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its_likealchemy) wrote2011-11-05 09:09 pm
its_likealchemy) wrote2011-11-05 09:09 pm
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counted_stars ❧ memory share event narrative
Blue-white light fills the room, warm and healing, centered around Anders' hands, and your brother staggers backwards. Anders apologizes, mumbling something about that being the best he can do, but you don't hear him, not really, your attentions fixed solely on Bartrand now. He stares at you like it's the first time he's seen you in months, and given how rabid he was just a moment before, ranting about the idol you found in your last great dungeon crawl, you wonder if maybe it is.
"Varric?"
You're not sure how you should feel, your heart twisting in two different directions. On one hand, he left you to die after you found that damn thing, and you've been almost able to taste your revenge for the better part of three years now. It's why you came to his estate in the first place and why you started following up ever rumor that even so much as hinted that he was back in town. On the other hand, though, you know now that it wasn't his fault, that the idol was magical, corruptive, and that maybe if you'd never gone looking for fame and fortune, none of this ever would have happened. You're torn between hatred and pity, and the way he looks at you breaks your heart.
"I'm here," you tell him, touching a hand to his shoulder briefly.
"Varric, what have I done?"
There are bodies in the hall and blood on both your faces from where you mowed his men down in an effort to get to him. You can't feel bad for them -- violence normally isn't in your nature, but it was kill or be killed, and they were just as mad as Bartrand was for the most part, unsavable -- but you can see the guilt on your brother's face. He never meant for this to happen, hell, maybe he never meant to stab you in the back in the first place, and he remembers it all. It's hitting him hard and you don't know what to tell him. You can't lie but you can't bring yourself to lay the blame at his feet. Not when he's like this.
And so instead, you just shake your head. "I don't know. I honestly don't know."
"Make it stop, little brother. Don't let me ... don't let House Tethras fall like this." Bartrand looks panicked, fear of losing himself to the madness of the idol creeping up on him again. You try not to let your expression mirror his and you're almost grateful to have something to look at that's not him directly when he pulls your hands into his. You don't look up when he moves his hands to your shoulders. "I know ... I don't deserve it. But please, Varric ... don't leave me like this. Make it stop."
One year ago, one month ago, one day ago, you would have given every gold coin you had to hear him begging you for mercy. Now it just leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You look up at him abruptly, cutting him off before he continues. "Enough with the speeches! I'll get you a healer and you'll be fine."
"We can probably carry him," Hawke puts in from behind you. You don't bother looking back at her or the others, assembled behind you. The fact that this is what became of your brother is bad; the idea that you have an audience is worse. "You want to take his arms while I take his legs?"
"I'll send someone to come get him," you answer. You can't be here, you can't deal with this. Even if you're going to help, to get Bartrand help, you need to get out of here. The urge to escape is nearly overpowering. You do allow your brother another long, meaningful look, though -- you're not heartless, just shaken to your core. "Sit tight, brother. Help is on the way."
If he hears you, he doesn't register it, the magics of the idol or his own guilt overwhelming him, and you step away, turning to head for the door, unable to bring yourself to look at anyone. "Come on, Hawke. The sooner we get out of this house, the better."
Muse: Varric Tethras
Fandom: Dragon Age II
Word Count: 705
Note: For the memory swap event atcounted_stars.
"Varric?"
You're not sure how you should feel, your heart twisting in two different directions. On one hand, he left you to die after you found that damn thing, and you've been almost able to taste your revenge for the better part of three years now. It's why you came to his estate in the first place and why you started following up ever rumor that even so much as hinted that he was back in town. On the other hand, though, you know now that it wasn't his fault, that the idol was magical, corruptive, and that maybe if you'd never gone looking for fame and fortune, none of this ever would have happened. You're torn between hatred and pity, and the way he looks at you breaks your heart.
"I'm here," you tell him, touching a hand to his shoulder briefly.
"Varric, what have I done?"
There are bodies in the hall and blood on both your faces from where you mowed his men down in an effort to get to him. You can't feel bad for them -- violence normally isn't in your nature, but it was kill or be killed, and they were just as mad as Bartrand was for the most part, unsavable -- but you can see the guilt on your brother's face. He never meant for this to happen, hell, maybe he never meant to stab you in the back in the first place, and he remembers it all. It's hitting him hard and you don't know what to tell him. You can't lie but you can't bring yourself to lay the blame at his feet. Not when he's like this.
And so instead, you just shake your head. "I don't know. I honestly don't know."
"Make it stop, little brother. Don't let me ... don't let House Tethras fall like this." Bartrand looks panicked, fear of losing himself to the madness of the idol creeping up on him again. You try not to let your expression mirror his and you're almost grateful to have something to look at that's not him directly when he pulls your hands into his. You don't look up when he moves his hands to your shoulders. "I know ... I don't deserve it. But please, Varric ... don't leave me like this. Make it stop."
One year ago, one month ago, one day ago, you would have given every gold coin you had to hear him begging you for mercy. Now it just leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You look up at him abruptly, cutting him off before he continues. "Enough with the speeches! I'll get you a healer and you'll be fine."
"We can probably carry him," Hawke puts in from behind you. You don't bother looking back at her or the others, assembled behind you. The fact that this is what became of your brother is bad; the idea that you have an audience is worse. "You want to take his arms while I take his legs?"
"I'll send someone to come get him," you answer. You can't be here, you can't deal with this. Even if you're going to help, to get Bartrand help, you need to get out of here. The urge to escape is nearly overpowering. You do allow your brother another long, meaningful look, though -- you're not heartless, just shaken to your core. "Sit tight, brother. Help is on the way."
If he hears you, he doesn't register it, the magics of the idol or his own guilt overwhelming him, and you step away, turning to head for the door, unable to bring yourself to look at anyone. "Come on, Hawke. The sooner we get out of this house, the better."
Muse: Varric Tethras
Fandom: Dragon Age II
Word Count: 705
Note: For the memory swap event at
counted_stars.