serindrana - Scattered Coin :: H is for Hospitality [Athenril ABCs]

30th January 2012

Post with 16 notes

Scattered Coin :: H is for Hospitality [Athenril ABCs]

H is for Hospitality

“Go away, Hawke.” Athenril moves to shut the door, but her associate already has a booted foot in. Athenril has half a mind to crush it, or bruise it at least, but an injured foot is lost money and lost time, even more than an injured hand.

“It’s First Day,” Hawke replies with a measure of ease that is unfamiliar. “And so we’re continuing the grand old tradition of checking up on you. Open the door.”

“We?” Athenril frowns, hand tightening on the makeshift knob. She’s still relearning how to grip two ruined fingers, even with her glove in place to help. They had contributed more to the strength of her hand than she had realized, and she’s been left retraining how to fight, blade clenched in her first two fingers and balanced by the metal that holds the others in place, but it’s tricky and she can’t run two styles in concert across two hands.

“Hi, Athenril,” Bethany says from somewhere behind her sibling. “We brought dinner, too.”

“I’m not in the mood for dog food.” She tries to shut the door again. Again Hawke stops her. The leather of her glove creaks as she tightens her hold.

“I thought we were past that,” Hawke says, lowly. “And Bethany cooked it for you. Open the door, Athenril.”

Half a year has changed the balance between the three of them (the ginger remains apart, aloof, clearly displeased and already looking for work when the year is up), and Athenril doesn’t particularly like it. Hawke grows more surly and confident in Kirkwall by the day. Bethany follows where her sibling leads.

But it is First Day, and as much as she would like to leave the Hawkes standing out in the sleet that turns all the Kirkwall stairs to ice and makes everybody miserable without providing the comfort of a pure white snow (that would have been piss and blood stained by day’s end, but nobody talks about that), she does know something of being a gracious host. Her mother had insisted on it. They had had almost nothing, not even a home of their own or even a steady shelter, but her mother had insisted. Food for guests. Comfort. Whatever they had, shared.

Athenril wouldn’t go so far, but she does open the door on the tiny hole she’s taken for herself.

Not, she thinks, the little home in Lowtown that she would have liked - but it does. She keeps it clean and she even has a fire burning. Her belongings are stashed in caches around the room, hidden from most gazes, and it looks for all the world as if she is barely clinging to any semblance of comfort.

Hawke steps in, followed by Bethany with her veil still drawn up and a hood raised against the weather. In her arms is a pot with a cracked lid, and she holds it out to Athenril.

Athenril hesitates, then takes it and places it on the nearby table.

She watches as Hawke takes stock of the room and as Bethany drops her hood, tugs down her veil, and offers a small smile.

“How, exactly, did you find me, Hawke?” Athenril asks as the Fereldan takes a seat by the fire. “I prefer to be discreet about where I sleep.”

It’s Bethany who speaks. “We followed you. After your arm was injured- it was in case you ever needed us, we’d know where you were.”

“Nosy little thing,” Athenril says softly, and she thinks she sees Bethany blush. “Your idea?”

“Mine,” Hawke says.

“And what happened to it being convenient if I died and you were released from service?” Athenril asks, pulling the lid back. Bethany comes to her side and peeks in, then holds out a hand and wiggles her fingers. The stew inside begins to steam.

It doesn’t smell as poorly as Athenril had feared, and she murmurs a small thank you. The girl beams, then ducks her head.

“I’m not heartless, Athenril.”

“Practical is a better word.” She cants her head towards where a few worn wooden bowls are stacked in the corner, usually to catch drips from the roof. They’re a little wet now, but Bethany wipes them dry on her skirt. Useful girl.

Girl, Athenril reminds herself, and turns fully to Hawke, hands bracing on the table as she leans back. Her right hand twinges. She ignores it. Hawke is becoming too clever by half, and a show of weakness would be dangerous. Could be dangerous.

“Well?”

“I’m still getting my feet under me.” The Fereldan is stretched out by the fire, legs crossed easily. “As much as I’m not a fan of slavery-“

“Indentured servitude. Bargaining.”

“As much as I’m not a fan,” Hawke continues, “it does serve as a sort of apprenticeship.”

Bethany returns to Athenril’s side, lifting the pot and messily serving out some of the stew. “We wouldn’t have enough money to pay the bribes to keep me safe without you,” Bethany says. Hawke’s nose scrunches up in disapproval at her honesty. Athenril turns to watch her instead. “We don’t have the connections yet, and we wouldn’t have known the streets and the rhythms without you as a teacher.”

“So is this a visit of gratitude, then?” Athenril asks, and Bethany sets the pot down with a shrug, nudging a bowl towards her. A twirl of a finger and the bowl is steaming in full.

“It’s First Day. It’s not like we have many other friends or family to visit.”

“And Gamlen is cooking,” Hawke adds.

“That too.”

Athenril glanced around the room. “And yet you leave your poor hound to suffer it.” Hawke’s mabari was not always present, but she marked its absence now.

“You don’t like people knowing where you live,” Hawke says as Bethany brings over food for them both. “He’d be a bit noticeable, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps you doglords aren’t so simple after all,” Athenril says with a snort, and she rubs the fingertips of her left, ungloved hand as if to clean them. She lifts the bowl to her mouth and scoops some of the thick meat and broth to her lips.

Hawke laughs at the insult and shrugs. “Not all the time, no.”

“I also wanted to see you,” Bethany says, and Athenril’s swallow turns unexpectedly harsh. She coughs to clear her throat.

“Is that so?”

The mageling nods, smiling sheepishly. “I like you, no matter what the others think. And I wanted to see how your hand was doing.”

Hawke sighs. “And I am forever incapable of denying my darling sister.”

Athenril is left unsure of what to say, beyond a muttered, “It’s fine.” It’s an unbalanced position that leaves her uneasy. She draws then on what her mother taught her, and she moves to one of the caches, a spot in the wall where a board can be pulled loose.

She searches for just a moment, then retrieves two items, crossing to the warm circle of the fire. She isn’t used to entertaining guests or to being liked as opposed to tolerated, and so she pauses first in front of Hawke, the one who is the least likely to respond in any quiet, intimate way. Athenril offers out a small bottle of Antivan brandy, opened but only barely touched.

Hawke’s eyebrows lift in question.

“Happy First Day, Hawke. To six more months of making sure you know where to put your muddy Fereldan feet.”

Hawke smirks, head inclined in thanks, and takes the bottle.

Athenril turns to Bethany, who is looking pleasantly bewildered.

“And to you,” she says, holding out a small hair comb decorated with Nevarran glass beads. “To six more months of keeping you out of trouble.”

The mageling flushes. “I couldn’t.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Athenril says, stepping close enough to tuck it into her curls, “I killed a man for it.”

Bethany blanches.

Athenril’s smile is lopsided and more than a little tense, and the displeasure in Bethany’s eyes as she reaches up to touch at the trinket tugs at something in her she’s not comfortable having tugged. She drops her mother’s mask of hostess quickly, turning away from them and shoving the lid back on the pot.

“Now finish eating and get out of my house. Next time I see you two here-“

“Understood,” Hawke says.

Bethany only mumbles a small, “Sorry,” that tugs at that same little bit. Athenril scowls at the wall. They’re some of the best allies she’s ever had in Kirkwall.

But sometimes, she can’t wait for the six months to be over.

Tagged: scattered coin dragon age alphabet meme alphabet meme athenril bethany hawke Hawke