#anyway lonely kirkwall christmas felt right

[baejax-the-great]

For wrapped prompts: 40 & Fenhawke

Hawke isn’t sure what drove her to climb the roofs of Viscount’s Keep. They are spiky and slippery by turns, steep, with a sharp wind knocking her about, not at all convenient for brooding, and if she falls, she will almost certainly crack her head on the cobblestones below.

And wouldn’t that just be fitting? One year after driving the arishok from this very keep, the last of the Hawkes falls to her doom for no other reason than this city is an endless maw of death that seems to want to eat her family alive. Or because she had half a bottle of wine before starting on this venture. Protection against the wind, at least.

From her perch, just like a real hawk, she thinks somewhat absently, the view might be beautiful if she held any sort of tender feelings for this city. Instead, each glint of metal reflecting moonlight makes her wonder whose house is being cased tonight, which gangs have decided to gift themselves with a new claim as Kirkwall rings in a new year. She can see all the way to Lowtown and the Gallows beyond. She thinks she might even be able to smell them.

And then she spies something else—another miserable soul who has decided that a rooftop in Hightown in winter is just the place to spend Satinalia. Hawke pulls at a roof tile, jamming a knife in and wiggling it until it’s free in her hand. She feels the heft of it, then she chucks it across the night sky.

Fenris bursts into fiery blue as the tile shatters next to him. He is on his feet quicker than Hawke can see, and she waves at him. He is too far away for her to see his expression, but as the lyrium on his skin flickers down to just a dull glow, he picks up a bottle of wine from near his feet and raises it to her before taking a swig.

It’s the closest they’ve come to talking since they spent the night together.

She turns her attention away from Fenris and stares down at the city that saved her life and took everything from her. She inhales deeply, and wondering if the echoes will help her reach all the way to where her sister rots in the Gallows, she shouts at the top of her lungs, “Fuck Kirkwall!”

From a lower rooftop somewhere to her left, she hears a deep voice call, “Here, here.”