First Entrance.

[fate_or_chance]

Carver leaving for Ostagar has everyone in the Hawke household on edge. Mother begged him not to go, not that he listened; Bethany entertained, for a while, wild ideas about pretending to be a Circle mage and going with him until Hawke pointed out (as calmly as he could) just how much that wouldn't work; and Hawke - did nothing, because Maker knows that Carver is so contrarian that Hawke could make an offhand remark about not getting killed by ogres, and the boy would probably fling himself into one's jaws just to prove a point.

So, Carver's gone, and Leandra and Bethany are fretting in perfect, harmonised union, and Hawke is getting supplies from a now very empty Lothering. Supplies and a drink, except - this is not the Dane's Refuge. This is much more upmarket. There are clean glasses, for a start, Hawke can see the light blinking off them, it's - really actually quite blinding.

"Well, this is a lovely surprise," he says, with slightly forced brightness, for whatever desire demon he's sure is listening. "You shouldn't have, really, I'm blushing at all the effort."

Comments

[inquisitions_anchor]

Well, there isn't a desire demon nearby, but there is a red-headed teenager with a very obvious mage staff set next to her while she reads.

(Evelyn discovered the books in this place. There are even more crime serials here than just Hard in Hightown! Even if it remains her favorite. The others are nice, but they don't have the homey feel of a place she has at least heard of.)

Still, the comment and the tone make her look up and clear her throat slightly. "Ah, excuse me? Did you... mean about this place? Or have you been here before?"

Ysalwen and Varric were very nice to her. She's determined to pass that on to others.

[fate_or_chance]

This is why Hawke always uses staffs with sharp blades attached. That way he can always pretend that they're spears if anyone asked.

"Is this the bit where you tell me this isn't some illusion?" He asks, a little dryly. "Because Lothering doesn't have taverns this nice. They get driven out of the business by the less-nice taverns."

[inquisitions_anchor]

Evelyn isn't trying to hide she's a mage. That's just for people who are-- well, smart enough to stay out from under the Templars.

Still, she blinks and lights up a little. Someone from her world! "You're from Lothering? I live in Ostwick." Wait, no, she is going about all this the wrong way.

[fate_or_chance]

"That's a fairly long way away," Hawke says, raising his eyebrows. "It's at least an hour's walk. At least." You know, approximately.

He folds his arms, cocking his head back a bit. "Are you sure this isn't time you could be spending tempting me with fell contracts and the like? I'm especially vulnerable to money, wine, and those tiny statuettes of birds that every travelling merchant seems to stock."

[inquisitions_anchor]

For a moment Evelyn looks very confused--why would she want to be offering him contracts and such--before the import hits her and she looks to her own staff.

Hawke doesn't... look too scary, or particularly crazy, and seems averse to deals with demons, which is very much not what the Templars would like to have her believe about apostates. Still, she also doesn't want to set him on edge or running or something, that would be bad.

"I don't really have much money. And the last time I had any wine Jordan and Brit stole most of it. And I've always been more of a dog person." She pauses, trying to figure out what to say here. "Um. The door is like-- a portal. It collapses space and time and then you're in the Bar. It's called Milliways."

[will_scarlett]

Will's brushing some sawdust off himself as he enters, today he's been working with John on some repairs around Locksley.

Milliways is a nice surprise, he could do with something warm and he laughs when he hears Hawke's statement as he sits at the counter, "Keep flatterin' Lady Bar and ye'll get well fed."

[fate_or_chance]

"- Did someone name the tavern Lady Bar, because I'm not sure that's the most imaginative name they could have come up with," Hawke asks, tilting his head. "Not that it's not a very nice tavern. Much nicer than the one I was actually hoping to visit."

[will_scarlett]

"Tavern's called Milliways, she's Lady Bar,"

Will pats the counter and a pint of ale appears for him.

[fate_or_chance]

"Well, that's certainly flavour detail. Is this the part where you offer me some kind of bargain, where I get vast amounts of wealth, earth-shattering powers, comely virgins," he gives Will a brief 'like so' gesture up and down, "in exchange for something? That's generally how the whole demonic illusion thing works, I know."

[freedom_is_grey]

"You're really not," a white-haired elven woman observes, looking up from her seat at a nearby table.

She's wearing a traveling cloak and a sword, but there's a staff resting against a chair back at her side. A stark black tattoo covers her right eye, and a complementary loose triangle decorates her left check. There's a mabari at her feet, as well, his head lifting quizzically as the newcomer speaks.

"I'm going to assume you're talking to yourself, then? Some people do, the first time. I had Liranan, here, for mine, so I don't think I made anyone leap to that conclusion myself."

[fate_or_chance]

Okay, so if this here kindly elf woman is a demon, she did well with the mabari, because everything Fereldan in Hawke's nature wants to start praising it for being a good, sweet puppy, with such delicate and refined paws, who's a good dog, who has a nose.

"Much as I do love talking to myself, it was really addressed to whichever delightful Fade resident set this whole thing up," Hawke says, gesturing widely at the bar. "It has a very personal touch to it. A lot of artistry. You just don't see that as much as you should from enterprising young demons these days."

[freedom_is_grey]

"I'm -- not actually sure demons are young. Ever."

Huh.

"Not that I'm planning to ask, because that would be remarkably stupid. Talking to them at all, I mean."

Always, always terrible. Hugely terrible. Sometimes necessity dictates, but -- usually it doesn't.

She's frowning at him a little now, tucking some flyaway strands of hair behind her ear. Liranan, at her feet, shakes his coat and stands up. There is talk of demons! Maybe one will attack!

"Also, this isn't the Fade. If you take a moment to stop being surprised at its sudden appearance, you'll realize the feel is wrong. Also -- try stepping outside and seeing the Black City. You can't, because it isn't there."

Comforting, right?

[fate_or_chance]

"I'm not either," Hawke admits. "Sure, I mean. But it feels like it would be very cruel to say that to their faces. Or face-oid areas, sometimes."

It is taking all of Hawke's willpower not to praise Liranan right now, because who's very good at standing up yes it's you.

"It doesn't feel like the Fade," he adds. "But sometimes it can be difficult to tell! I once dreamed that my brother's face was melting, it was awful, totally indistinguishable from reality in every way." He says it with fondness. "Although I suppose if there's no Black City, that'd prove it."

[cassiefuckingcage]

"What, this?"

Cassie gestures at her outfit.

"P'shaw. First thing I found in my closet."

As always, there's a smartass grin plastered across her face.

[fate_or_chance]

Hawke is more than willing to play along.

"Ah, and here was me thinking it was especially to impress poor old me," he says mournfully. "I feel wounded, truly I do."

[cassiefuckingcage]

"Maybe if I'd seen you around before," Cassie says.

"This your first time in Milliways?"

[fate_or_chance]

"Wounded," Hawke repeats emphatically. "Yes, let's assume I am. New, that is. I presume there's a spiel, people love spiels, there's always a spiel."

[thewidewideworld]

An androgynously pretty blonde looks up from his book and smiles. "Hello?"

[fate_or_chance]

Well, this person certainly looks like a potential candidate for whichever demonic being is creating this here tavern.

"Yes, hello, greetings, good day to you," Hawke says, twisting his hand in a 'can we get on with it' fashion.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric watches the gestures with an expression of mild confusion. "Are you new here?" He asks, closing the book and straightening up.

[fate_or_chance]

"That does depend on where 'here' is," Hawke says. "And on whether it's all some elaborate trick."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"The place is like that sometimes," says a grey-haired young woman with the kind of facial scars you get when you can't afford a helmet in a war zone. Also she has a dog. Did we mention the dog? He's not a mabari, but he's a dog. "Catching people by surprise, I mean."

[fate_or_chance]

Oh Maker, it's a dog, he's so cute, he looks like he has such velvety ears.

"Well, I am definitely surprised. It's done well. It should be very proud. Where am I?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"It's called Milliways. People tell me it's at the end of the world- the destruction of the world, I mean, not the geographical end or anything," she says. "It kind of takes some getting used to, even if you grew up on the surface like most people here."

For her, this was a thing. Still is, at times.

[fate_or_chance]

"Well, that's certainly one of the most alarming sentences I've heard all week," Hawke says. "Is there going to be all that much time to get used to it? Unless it's a very sluggish apocalypse."