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allaganexarch · 5 months

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ok also if i get a bonus then how about generic ⭐star⭐ but like ⭐star⭐ not on a full fic like on a drill down like i want to hear about a SECTION or even like A TINY SNIPPET or like A SENTENCE you could even give me the directors commentary on ONE WORD

oooohhhhhhhh this is so fun okay so I chose this snippet from ch5 of The Chance You Take, and I am starting this by saying this fic is NOT!!!!!!! abandoned this is like the only fic that survived the 2020 ficpocalypse of my brain and I still desperately love it it’s just in the purgatory of me trying to convince myself not to edit the first part instead of just continuing it.

Meredith eyed Isabela curiously, then turned her attention to Hawke. “What?” she demanded. Hawke made no effort to contain her amusement. She shrugged merrily. Meredith’s glare hardened. “Nothing! It’s sort of fun to watch when it’s not me, that’s all!” Hawke confessed. Meredith’s expression did not change. At the very least, it did not get worse. “To what are you referring?” she asked crisply. “Oh, you know,” Hawke waved vaguely, “the whole Scary Templar Lady thing.” “Is that what you think of me?” Meredith wondered coolly. Hawke startled. “What? No! That’s not what I meant—“ “Isn’t it?” Meredith leaned in, soft-spoken and subdued, somehow even more frightening than when she towered or blustered. “Allow me to repeat the question, Serah Hawke,” she continued. “What is it you’re so afraid of?”

I liked this particular exchange because I think it highlights something very critical about the Hawke/Meredith dynamic, in this story specifically but also I think how I usually write them: Meredith tolerates a lot from Hawke, and on the surface what she does and doesn’t tolerate seems arbitrary.

This whole exchange is pretty fraught—first, Meredith is in a bad mood because Hawke is talking to Some Man when she arrives, but Hawke manages to talk her down from that ledge, to the point that they’re having a good time and Meredith is considering hinting about the gift she found earlier. Then, Some Man comes back, and Meredith kind of reverts back into her Templar Persona, which isn’t so much different from how she is normally as it is a particular mindset that she has not been engaging with since she’s been gone.

And then Hawke has the audacity to treat it, to treat what Meredith feels is essentially the sum of her entire existence, into which she has poured everything, because tragedy gave her her purpose, and because she has nothing else—as a joke.

Meredith’s duty is not and can never be a joke to her, but more than that, her duty is so inextricably tied to her entire formative sense of identity that someone laughing at her, denigrating her, disrespecting her in her capacity as a templar can only ever be deeply personal. And if it were anyone else (besides the fellow templars she respects and feels bound to), she wouldn’t care. It would still be personal, she just wouldn’t care.

Without realizing it, Meredith has been living with this contradiction: she thought that despite everything Hawke is and does, Hawke still respected Meredith’s work and what had to be done, and supported her genuinely. And, at the same time, she thought Hawke saw her as more than just her job. Because their interactions up to this point have been so completely insane and nothing like Meredith has ever experienced before, she thought Hawke had somehow managed to differentiate Meredith from her work (still believing Hawke respected her work), even when Meredith could not separate herself from her work.

And that is almost, almost true! Hawke very obviously does see Meredith as separate from her job, and even though she doesn’t always like it, she has grown to hold at least some respect for what Meredith does! Pretty much everyone Hawke knows has some kind of deep-seated duty or calling that can never really shake—but the difference is that it isn’t the literal core of who they are. Meredith lost her family when she was seven, and was pretty much raised a templar from that point onward. Even if Hawke’s other companions don’t always like her teasing, they’re able to tolerate it because they’re able to separate the core of themselves from their duties. From Meredith’s perspective, Hawke viewing her duty as something to joke about is akin to Hawke viewing Meredith as a joke.

Meredith pretty much shuts down, because she’s not used to being bothered by what people think of her. People say horrible things about her all the time. She’s surprised and hurt that Hawke admits to being afraid of her, but it’s not really about the fear—it’s about the lack of faith in her work, and therefore in her. Hawke is one of the few people who doesn't hate her or think she's crazy at this point, and that has been wayyyyy more of a source of comfort for her than she realized. (She thinks about this explicitly a little in chapter one, and somewhere else also I think.)

I don’t love some of the wording I chose here between the dialogue—this is what I mean when I say this fic makes me want to gently edit it LOL. I think clearer, simpler connecting phrases would make the mood shift pack more of a punch. I want it to feel like everything’s going fine, Hawke is having a good time, not grasping the danger, and then the mood just DROPS. Maybe something like:

Meredith watched him go, impassive. She turned her attention back to Hawke. “What?” Hawke made no effort to hide her amusement. She shrugged merrily. Meredith waited. “Nothing!” said Hawke. “It’s sort of fun to watch when it’s not me, that’s all!” Meredith narrowed her eyes, uncomprehending. “To what are you referring?” “Oh, you know,” Hawke waved vaguely, “the whole Scary Templar Lady thing.” “Is that what you think of me?” Meredith wondered. Cold premonition sent a shiver down Hawke’s spine. She looked up, startled. “What? No! That’s not what I—“ “Isn’t it?” Meredith leaned in, soft-spoken and subdued, a thousand times more frightening than when she towered or blustered. “Allow me to repeat the question, Serah Hawke,” she continued. “What is it you’re so afraid of?”

It’s not much of a change, but the connecting phrases supply the timing for the dialogue. The way it was before, the pace was being slowed by the connectors before the mood shift rather than right after. This way, the first part reads as quick and snappy, and then the pace grinds to a halt with the stronger word choice and heavier descriptions. They’re in conflict after this, but it’s a tense, cautious kind of conflict where they’re choosing their words very carefully, juxtaposed against the loud, boisterous atmosphere around them. So where you might normally want to escalate the conflict by speeding it up, in this case I think it makes more sense to slow it down.

Aaaaaaaah I can’t wait to go insane about DA2 again!!! Thank you for indulging me, this was super fun, I love rambling about this kind of thing!!!

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allaganexarch · 7 years

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The Chance You Take (1/?)

Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Marian Hawke/Meredith Stannard Rating: T (for now) Summary: There’s only one thing keeping Hawke in Kirkwall. Notes: Canon-divergent around the beginning of Act 3. Shameless angsty fluff. I watched Carol on repeat for like a week and a half before I wrote this so there are definitely some silly references. Play a drinking game and see if you can find them all!

"Point somewhere! Anywhere!"

Hawke laughed, tossed her hair and allowed it to obscure her eyes, to hide how touched she was by the thought. Going soft, that was what, but these had been difficult years. The thought of...not only of something new, but of someone offering it to her? It was definitely too good to be true.

"Better yet," Isabela came around behind her and covered her eyes. "I'll blindfold you, spin a globe, and the destination will be a surprise."

Hawke caught her hands, thin laughter still upon her lips. "I wish," she said. Deflected, really.

Isabela freed one of her hands to ruffle Hawke's hair. "Why wish?" she pressed.

"I've got..." Hawke gestured vaguely, sighed.

"What?" Isabela drew her face into a garish frown. "Responsibilities?"

Hawke averted her eyes again. "Well," she said.

"So drag her with us for all I care, if she'll go," Isabela sighed, as though it were nothing, and then suddenly let out a loud bark of laughter. "Can you imagine, actually?"

"I can't, no," Hawke agreed.

There was a twinkle of mischief in Isabela's eye as she returned to her seat next to Hawke, and propped her boots up on the table. "Five silver she's a better sailor than you."

Hawke managed a genuine chuckle at that. "No argument there."