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djarrex · 2 years

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From Where We Stand

Chapter 3: Back for More

Post-Stasis!Kix x f!OC

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Chapter Rating: M

Word Count: about 3.5k

Warnings: language, mild violence, one teeny tiny mention of blood but very non-descriptive. we're starting to feel, people - buckle up

Chapter Summary: Strange feelings and mixed emotions flood Ahri’s system as she, her crew, and Kix make the trek back to town.

Note: as always, thank you to the darling @rowansparrow for beta reading! This chapter isn't too long but we're starting to get more into the feels :')

Another note: for some unknown reason at the time of posting, I am unable to post this chapter unless I omit my tag list people AND the post tags. So, reblogs are so very appreciated that way those who are usually tagged in this can have a chance to see it (and the rest of Tumblr). Thank you! x

“Hey. Ahri.”

Ahri’s eyes flutter open, her head tilted back and resting against the sand dune she’d apparently fallen asleep against. Kix is still beside her just a foot or two away, lightly resting his gloved hand on her shoulder and calling her back into the world. Ahri grumbles, rolling her head back and forth against the dune and covering her eyes with the palms of her hands - digging the heels into her sockets until white specks burst in the pitch-black. She hears Kix breathe out a little chuckle as he retracts his hand, and when her eyes open again, she notices how the sky is no longer the color of night - instead painted with warm hues of orange and reds blending with the deep blue and lavenders sprouting from the horizon.

“I think it’s time to go,” he continues after a pause - letting her fully wake. Ahri lolls her head to the side to look at the man speaking to her, and instantly gets lost in the way his eyes shine with the beautiful colors of Ponemah’s dawn. Quickly pulling herself from that, she lowers her gaze instead to the geometric shape painted in worn and chipped blue on his chest piece. From her peripheral she sees how he offers a soft smile as he lifts his chin towards the others who are now putting out the fire - kicking the surrounding sand into the charred depression to suffocate the flickering embers.

“Did you sleep any?” she asks - cautiously returning to meet his eyes.

“No,” he answers plainly. There’s a momentary pause before he continues. “I’m- I was a soldier.” Messing with the recently reattached vambrace that once sat in the sand beside him, he sighs. “Didn’t get much sleep. With my duties, there was never any time.”

Ahri lets his explanation sit between them, remembering what little information he’d told her last night and only imagining what his duties had consisted of in the midst of an active battlefront. She nods absently, taking her braid into her hands and undoing it with practiced ease. She pulls apart the thick, auburn strands and combs them through with her fingers before standing up and tilting her head forward and letting it all waterfall in front - shaking the grains of sand from her loose hair. Kix watches the cascading flames draping from her scalp as she runs her slender fingers through, and he swallows. Taking her seat beside Kix once again, she begins to rebraid the dry waves.

He stares at her; Ahri can feel the heat of his gaze - heat that eclipses even the early morning Ponemah humidity. She keeps her eyes forward and her focus somewhat on her fingers’ familiar dance within her hair, and decides to change the topic.

“Have you tried standing again? Walking?” she asks - still staring forward. Her eyes begin burning from the lack of blinking.

Shaking his head and pulling himself out of his thoughts, Kix bends each of his legs at his knees a few times - testing - then nods. “I did, but, I didn’t know what to do after that.” He chuckles and rubs at his nape - the material of his under-armor top that stretches up his neck. “I sat back down. You were asleep and I don’t know the rest of your crew, and I don't exactly have anywhere to go.”

“But you didn’t topple over,” Ahri pokes at him with a smile - blinking the moisture back into her eyes before facing him. She ties off the end of her long braid, throws it over her shoulder to rest against her back, and tucks the shorter hairs behind her ears that never do end up fitting into the style. “C’mon.” Standing to her feet and dusting off her leggings, she extends her hand down to him.

He blinks at her a few times - his eyes flickering back and forth between the three standing off in the distance and the woman standing just in front of him. Ahri internally cringes at her gesture; she knows he can stand up himself, unaided. He’s a grown man - a soldier for fucks sake - but it’s too late to retract her hand now. It’s several, awkward moments before he takes her hand - repositioning into a squat before pushing himself up. Her hand was merely a gesture - a gesture in which he accepted, but did not fully utilize.

She presses her lips together. “Allow me to introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

Kix remains still, looking down at his boots and seemingly focusing on his balance and stance. Ahri watches his expression carefully, noting his firm stare and pinched brows directed at the ground. That’s when they both realize their hands are still loosely held in one another. With wide eyes and expressions mirroring the other’s, they simultaneously snatch their own hands away, quickly dropping them to their sides.

“I’m, uh, sor- ”

Ahri coughs. “Guys,” she draws the crew’s attention - cutting Kix off in the process and stepping closer to them. “This is Kix. You may also know him as the guy we found taking a nap in that cruiser.” She chuckles and looks to Rev. “Or maybe you’d know him better as the guy who knocked our lovely and fierce Reveth in the jaw.” Ahri sends the back of her hand smacking against Kix’s rerebrace, and smirks at the way his eyes have widened.

“I… I what?” He shakes his head in confusion - yet another detail from the cruiser he does not remember. “M’sorry about that, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” Rev cackles. “Haven’t been called that in a while.”

“She’s Rev,” Ahri informs with an amused look on her face. “But yeah, you whacked her right in the jaw when we first woke you.”

“It’s all good, handsome.” Rev winks - running her tongue across her sharp top teeth. “I’m a big girl. I can handle anything.” Ahri flashes her a look - her stomach churning in the strangest way. They all stand in silence until she’s able to continue - swallowing the weird feeling that had begun to bubble in her throat.

“That’s Squeaky, the guy who carried you all this way.” Ahri pauses to give Kix a moment to nod in thanks, and the Gamorrean nods back. “And that’s Quiggold, our first-mate.” Quiggold nods in greeting as well. She then looks down at her boots - the toe of her right drawing a small pattern into the sand. “Though I suppose you’re, uh... you’re the captain now, Quigg?”

The... tone in her voice does not go unnoticed - the hesitance.

“Are you ok- ”

“Alright, are we ready?” Ahri cuts into Kix’s question of, no doubt, unwarranted concern. She looks off towards the north - the direction they need to continue heading to get back to town. “I could use a drink.” The others verbally agree with Ahri as she turns to Kix. “And I’m sure you could use a drink.”

<<<>>>

Bringing her forearm up to her face, Ahri wipes the sweat from her brow - grains of sand scraping along her sun kissed skin. The not-so-loose hairs that had been escaping from her messy braid throughout the trek stick to her cheeks and her nape, the braid itself fringed and ready to be redone. More accurately, though - ready to be washed. Tailing the group with Kix a few feet distant from her side and stepping in time with her, Ahri scans the backs of the heads of the very different species that are leading the way.

“I could use that drink right about now,” Kix says under his breath - laced with a sarcasm that Ahri can appreciate. Having heard him, Rev chuckles from the lead, turning her head back towards the clone and raising her nonexistent brows - her long, red and patterned lekku swinging from her front to rest behind her shoulders.

“We’ll get you that drink, pretty boy,” she promises with a too-cocky grin stretching on her slim face. Ahri can’t help but discreetly shake her head and roll her eyes once Rev faces forward, and Kix can’t help but notice.

The glowing red sun is at the peak of the sky when the crew catches sight of the sandstone domes that roof the sparse buildings of the outskirts of town - the short skyline blurry, nearly mistaken as a mirage. Quiggold points in the direction of the very real buildings in the near distance, stopping and turning to face the crew. Ahri sighs in relief, sneaking a glance to Kix who is standing as tall as ever, appearing to be totally unwinded and unfazed. Something tells her that he’s not one to complain - that he’d grown accustomed to spending hours and hours and even days on his feet with little to no rest, food, or water.

She, too, will not complain.

“Thank fuck,” Rev dramatically groans. “My legs feel like they’re about to fall off. Not to mention that I’ve had to piss for over an hour.”

Squeaky cocks his head and makes a face - his four tusks dropping with the rest of his jaw. “Why didn’t you just, you know, piss?”

“Does it look like I have a dick that I can just pull out and piss anywhere I please?” Rev’s hands are on her hips - her eyes narrowed as she approaches Squeaky. Without so much as looking Ahri’s way, Rev calls to her: “Ahr? Back me up.”

Ahri chuckles. “Yeah, uh, we can’t exactly…” Her words trail off when her eyes briefly catch Kix’s - her train of thought derailing straight into a dune of sand. He’s looking at her so intensely, like he’s genuinely interested in what she has to say… about women not having dicks. “Pee,” she concludes half-heartedly after an awkward few moments of silence. She shakes her head - passing by her crewmates to take the lead, waving at them to follow.

We can’t exactly pee? Motherfuck, what the fuck is wrong with me?

They venture into town - Ahri falling back as the caboose once again - through the random patches of green that become even more scarce as they head towards the heart of it all. Three children no older than nine-years-old dressed in scraps of canvas and duraweave run right in front of them, chasing a deflated ball that still manages to skid across the loose terrain. She keeps on in tow of the others, electing not to give the children a second glance before they’re turning the corner. A cracked and dried up fountain constructed with sandstone blocks catches her eye instead, but more specifically, the gentleman that sits at the edge of it with a gadget of some sort in his hands and absorbing his focus. His clothes - they’re… normal. He looks normal. Having only passed a small group of children playing and soon the man sitting on the edge of the out-of-commission fountain, there hasn’t yet been an opportunity for undistracted townsfolk to look in the direction of Ahri and her crew and their newest addition. While still maintaining her current steady pace following the others, Ahri’s eyes scan the narrow alleyways that open just on the other side of the fountain - soon spotting just what she was hoping for, hanging between walls.

“Guys, wait.”

Ahri’s feet plant themselves in the sand, and the crew plus the trooper pause and turn to face her. She lifts her chin, gesturing to the man sitting to their right then eyeing Kix and making it a point to appraise his conspicuous attire with a brow lifted. They all nod in understanding, save for Kix.

“Hm?”

“You need to change out of that.”

His brows pinch together as he follows Ahri’s finger, noticing a clothesline hanging wall to wall in the alley nearest to them - each end of the rope tied to the high windows of adjacent residential structures. Following the redhead’s eyes and finger, Squeaky - the tallest of the crew - heads down the alley and jumps a foot off the ground, grabbing the suspended pieces of what appears to be men’s clothing. A couple of hops into the air and Squeaky had managed to collect Kix almost an entire outfit - a plain black tunic and a pair of tan pants.

“Oh,” the trooper says flatly as the Gamorrean passes him the clothing in a haphazard bundle. “I, uh- ”

“It would be… safer… if you weren’t dressed like a stormtrooper,” Ahri cautiously advises - pursing her lips.

Kix returns her look with a blank one. “A what?”

Collectively, the crew averts their eyes, leaving Ahri to explain.

Eh, Maybe another time.

“...Nevermind.”

<<<>>>

The five, sand-coated and parched members find themselves standing in the cantina they were in just a rotation ago - now with three missing faces but with an added face belonging to one who’d lived in the days before the majority of the patrons in this rundown place. Everything else is the same: the various species dancing to the loud tune of the band playing in the corner; the cheering coming from those who’re winning bets in the other corner; the man behind the bar serving warm drinks in foggy glasses -

Ahri freezes when her eyes land on the old timer who’d given them the information on that so-called ‘lost treasure’ of Count Who-the-Fuck- anger and something else brewing in her panging belly at the memory of the subsequent loss. Her red vision catches the glimmer of the daggers that line the belt on Rev’s waist as the Twi moves towards the bar to no doubt order a round of drinks, and seconds later, before anyone has a moment to react, Ahri snatches the shiniest blade and charges at the hunched-back barkeep - diving over the counter. A freshly poured glass drops from his veiny hand that he’d opened in shock, shattering on the floor at his feet - the dark liquid splashing on her leggings and boots. The music falls silent, and the patrons freeze. Her crew doesn’t make a move other than to brush their hands over their holstered weapons in preparation.

Kix, the furthest back from the others and with the sack filled with the rest of his armor thrown over his shoulder, watches with concern in his eyes.

Concern for her.

“What the fuck?” she spits. The enraged redhead ghosts the point of the dagger at the bob in his throat as she glares at him - her gut twisting and twisting to the point of a whole-body shudder coursing through her. The man at the end of the blade notices.

The barkeep’s surprised expression quickly fades and a disgusting grin stretches along his chapped lips - the remaining teeth in his mouth coated with a thick, yellow film. His breath absolutely reeks of bourbon and rotting gums and death sticks as he chuckles in her face. His reaction catches Ahri off guard - the dagger lowering slightly - the smallest nick in his skin beading with a single droplet of crimson.

“What’s the problem, lil lady?” he chides. “I told yous, I told all yous that m’information is good to anyone who’s willin’ to pay for it. Don’t come cryin’ t’me if someone got there first.”

Crying?

Ahri steps back, almost in shock from the punch of his rancid words, setting the dagger on the counter for Rev to secure back on her belt. It’s then she feels the wetness sitting at the corners of her eyes - the heavy stickiness of her lashes when she blinks.

Oh my fucking Maker.

“I’ll be outside,” she mumbles as she hops over the counter. Keeping her head turned away from the others, she lets her arms drop loosely to her sides and steadily paces towards the thin, torn curtain only half covering the exit. Brushing it aside, Ahri steps into the unforgiving sunlight and practically sprints around the corner once out of sight of the entrance - her back hitting the wall lining one side the alleyway before sliding down and sinking her ass into the sand. She brings her knees up to her chest, burying her face into them. Her forearms wrap around her shins, resting right above the liquor staining her leggings and bleeding onto her skin. The warm breeze bouncing off the sandstone of the narrow alley tickles the loose hairs hanging down from her sweaty hairline. It’s all catching up to her - she’s exhausted, filthy, and starving. She wants to fucking shower.

There are too many things happening inside of Ahri. Sensations. Feelings. Emotions. Some recognizable, others - not so much. It’s as if she’d chugged a carton of moof milk then sat under the twin Tatooine suns - the ugly, swirling sensation brewing in her gut. She feels as though she has not properly mourned, but what is the proper way to mourn someone who was your captain who was also the only person who really knew you? There’s sadness. Rage. A very small flicker of comfort and hope that has blossomed within her because of the frozen man, which not-so-beautifully mixes with the hopelessnessoverpowering all else. The strangest internal battle Ahri has ever felt.

And what’s with Rev? She’s a natural flirt, sure, but-

No. No, I am not jealous. I have no reason to be.

The gentle and soothing whooshing of the air passing by and creating small sand tornadoes in the corner is what Ahri tries to focus on until the soft slosh of parting sand from approaching boots makes her look up.

Fuck.

She scans the trooper from toe to head, appraising his new attire and noting how he’d elected to keep some of the painted plastoid pieces secure in place but above the stolen clothing. His tan pants - which fit him perfectly - are tucked into the boots and greaves, the blue and white rerebraces circle around the short black sleeves that wrap around his biceps, and the vambraces are secure over his bare forearms. The rest of the armor and his under-armor body glove - the one with the Empire’s fucking logo printed dead center on the chest - should be in a canvas sack that Kix was carrying, but something tells Ahri that Squeaky ended up getting stuck with it.

They lock eyes for a moment - his dark brows lifting when he catches her eyeing his getup - but then he’s sliding down the same wall, and sitting right beside her.

Right beside her.

“Something happened when you saved me,” Kix says softly - his voice dropping an octave and face turned towards her as she re-buries her own into her knees. “Didn’t it.”

“You could say that.” She scoffs - shaking her head. “A lot happened, Kix. I told you we were after treasure, but found... you instead. We saved you - he saved you. Us.

“Your captain,” he acknowledges.

My captain.

It stings Ahri - in the depths of her ribcage. She can feel her eyes begin to burn, but blinks a few times to will the forbidden tears away. She will not cry in front of this man - again. She will not dare make herself appear weak in front of a man like him.

“Yeah... our captain,” she says with a forced, steady voice. “He’s gone because of greed. Which is just so fucking ironic since we’re pirates.”

His hand - his ungloved, bare, worn hand - drapes across her knee. The heat radiating from his calloused palm bleeds through her leggings as the spilled liquor has. Her eyes burn a hole through the thick veins spidering underneath the dark skin of the back of his hand until he speaks again.

“I know it’s not my place, and we really only just met, but I know what it’s like to lose people. Family.”

Ahri regards him with a furrowed brow and glossy, emerald eyes - meeting his own, golden ones with understanding.

Understanding, and empathy. His eyes speak the same.

Kix lost everyone; Ahri doesn’t need him to provide her with a list of names and their relation to him to know that’s true. She hasn’t yet allowed herself to think about it… but imagine waking up fifty years in the future after everything and everyone you’d once known and loved had since vanished after you did.

She wants to know how he got here, fifty years in his future, but now isn’t the time to open that wound. Perhaps he doesn't yet remember.

“I know what you’re feeling,” he continues. “There’s an emptiness in your chest, but at the same time, something in there is still sitting heavy. You know what that is, that heavy emptiness?”

Her eyes one again drop to the hand resting on her knee - lashes dampening. Kix’s fingers dig into her - squeezing comfort into the bones. He’s good at that, she mentally notes.

“‘There was nothing I could’ve done.’ That’s the feeling.”

Perhaps he does remember.

For some unknown reason, I am unable to post this chapter unless I omit my tag list people AND the post tags. So, reblogs are so very appreciated that way those who are usually tagged in this can have a chance to see it (and the rest of Tumblr). Thank you! x

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chaosride · 3 years

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A Divine Appointment (x7)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

“You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance.” — Franklin P. Jones

Their next weekly Wicked Grace night was interesting. Anders had tried to beg off with the reasoning of not wanting to leave the kids alone all night at the clinic, and Varric had easily told him to bring the kids with him. Anders had expected Norah to run them off, as the owner had made it clear that the Hanged Man was a place for drinking and gambling. However that night Norah had just waved them through towards the stairs to Varric’s quarters. At Anders’ questioning look, Norah shrugged.

“New management,” was all she told him.

It was really all the explanation needed; the Hanged Man changed hands so often between the shadier figures of Kirkwall’s underground that they were under new management every other week it seemed. It was something that made Varric rhapsodize about how the Hanged Man deserved a better owner, someone who knew what they were doing and deserved her. It was no secret that the someone the dwarf had in mind was himself. Anders hoped he wouldn’t be too irritable about it tonight- it made him ruthless in cards.

Varric, however, was cheerful as ever when they got to his room. Hawke, Fenris and Isabela were already there. Aveline was going to come later after her patrol and had asked to bring Donnic along. They chatted as Anders settled at the table with them, allowing the twins to sit in his lap when neither would tolerate being put down. He rolled his eyes as Isabela cooed at them but allowed Cahir to go to her regardless. Primarily because he knew who the boy was really wanting to go to. He chuckled when Isabela called Cahir a traitor when he immediately began squirming in her hold, trying to get to Fenris. The elf let out a very put upon sigh but he was smiling when he took Cahir from her.

“You are very determined, I’ll give you that,” Fenris told Cahir.

The boy had settled down once in Fenris’ lap. Anders determinedly did not stare at them together; Cahir was skittish and didn’t like to be held by many people. He sought out even fewer as actively as he went to Fenris anytime the warrior was around. The sight of them made Anders want things to be different, despite the fact that he had more than he ever expected to. So instead he determinedly pulled the tie free from Cat’s hair and rebraided her curly red hair so it was away from her little face. Anders had learned if he didn’t she would pull at it until it came out in clumps in her small fists.

The mage had worried that the kids would get bored, but he supposed he should have known better. The entire group had learned to sit still and entertain themselves in order to avoid unneeded attention. Even the twins, young as they were, seemed to have learned it, sitting quietly with them at the table and watching them play with curious eyes. Tanner, Rosalyn and Bree had settled on the open stretch of floor a little away from the table, talking quietly amongst themselves as they played some game they had created with pebbles Tanner had produced from his pocket. Raelnor had sat with them at the table at Hawke’s merry invitation for him to join the game.

Anders had thought the entire walk over that he should bring something for them to do but he didn’t have anything. At the clinic they normally chased each other around or played games together but unlike other children they didn’t get loud or unruly without his attention on them really. The older of the kids had become quite adept at entertaining their younger siblings when no adults were around to mind the toddlers, and with them occupied were happy to sit quietly together all evening.

In the end they hadn’t even made it through an entire round before it clearly bothered Varric too much to continue. He laid his cards down despite it being his turn and stood up.

“Y’know, I got a cousin who owns a toy shop, I’m sure I’ve got some of his stuff around here,” he had said.

To anyone who didn’t know him, it would have been a convincing lie but Anders knew there wasn’t a single member of Varric’s family with any such business. The lie was confirmed with how quickly the rogue located the box of toys he presented to the children to go through. Raelnor was watching him with the same puzzled face he used to direct at Anders; bafflement at someone doing them a kindness with no expectation of anything in return.

Bree, the sweetheart that she was, had brought over a small selection of toys for the twins to choose from, showing first Cat then Cahir the ones she had thought they would like. Cahir had latched onto a small rattle drum which he clumsily waved until Fenris gently corrected his grip and showed him how to roll it between his palms to make the small beads hit the drum more consistently. Cat’s choice had been a carved wooden horse with wings and little wheels attached to its hooves. As she rolled it back and forth on the table in front of him, Anders resigned himself to picking it up a thousand times throughout the night as she lost her grip on it. Once content that the twins had gotten something as well, Bree returned to Tanner and Rosalyn. The dwarven boy was showing Rosalyn how to make the top spin with a practiced hand, and gave a proud grin when the girls exclaimed at how long he got it to spin.

Pleased with himself, Varric retook his seat and took his turn. He shrugged his shoulders amicably at Anders’ knowing look without a hint of shame. The healer wasn’t going to complain; he knew the kids needed toys, they just weren’t expenses he could afford. Technically he couldn’t afford to feed himself and seven kids but he was making it work. Mostly.

“So, you had any luck?” Hawke asked Raelnor, who had been sullenly studying his cards.

Raelnor had been moody and temperamental since he had lost his job at the docks. Burgess had been upset that Fenris had interrupted the fights. He had even accused Raelnor of setting him up since someone had massively outbid him at the last moment before the fights and took the entire betting pool in result.

Raelnor had pointed out that he didn’t exactly have the money to place a big enough bet to more than double Burgess’ bet, which was what it would have taken for the mystery gambler to take all the winnings from the betting rather than just a portion. He had bit his tongue to avoid mentioning that without Burgess setting the rule of the whole pot going to the top bet if it was more than twice the second highest bet to benefit himself, he wouldn’t have lost everything. Of course, he had been correct but it hadn’t helped him keep his job.

Anders couldn’t blame his sour mood- Raelnor had spent years knowing he had to make money for any of them to survive, the only one besides Delilah remotely old enough to work a regular job. Every person that turned him away was a personal failure to Raelnor, no matter how Anders told him they would figure it out. The assurance that there were people around now who would make sure the kids didn’t starve only served to make the teenager complain of feeling useless, like deadweight.

Anders mourned the childhood the boy had clearly given up in favor of caring for the younger children. He wished he could tell Raelnor not to worry about money or finding another job even as he knew logically they needed the extra income for food and necessities for the kids.

“Nothing yet. The only place willing to hire Fereldans, much less one as young as me, is the Bone Pit-”

“I would rather pay to not have to go there,” Varric said.

“Bad news, that place,” Isabela agreed.

“Yeah, don’t take that,” Hawke told him.

“But my overbearing mum told me I would not be working there under any circumstances,” Raelnor finished. He scowled at his hand of cards and set it down face up to show he was folding.

“Yes I did,” Anders told him. “I would rather you not be turned into mincemeat by giant spiders or blighted dragons, Rae,” he began, which the boy waved away dismissively. It was an argument they had revisited a few times since the subject came up.

“Yeah, yeah, like I said mum here said I couldn’t take that one so I’m still looking.”

“Well, that’s good, then,” Varric told Raenor. “It would mean you can’t come to work for me. Think you can handle serving food during the day here?”

“What? You can’t seriously be offering to pay me to come run and tote for you all day.”

“Well, Norah works nights here and they’re going to start serving more meals during the day.”

“Ah, Varric, I know you basically run it but I don’t think you can just offer him a job here.”

The dwarf grinned, the kind he only wore when he was especially proud of whatever trickery he had managed. Usually when one upping petty criminals or raining fire on unsuspecting enemies with Bianca from the backlines.

“Oh, I didn’t mention? I recently came into possession of a little something that gives me a bit more say about what happens here than before.”

Oh, Anders thought, remembering the look Norah had given him earlier when he came in with the children.

“You’re the new management.”

“Aw Blondie, why did you have to steal my thunder? I wanted to deliver it all dramatically,” Varric pouted. When Anders just raised an eyebrow he chuckled and confirmed, “yeah, I’m the new management.”

“Good on you Varric!” Hawke praised.

“Now you can stop bringing it up to Aveline,” Fenris said.

“I know, she was no help.”

“You’re who out bet Burgess,” Raelnor realized.

“The bookie who he had working the fights is an old friend of mine, he was happy to tell me how much he bet and lied about who I betted for. Figured he wouldn’t give you a fair cut even if you did take the dive for him. Sorry if I caused any trouble for you, kid.”

For the first time since being fired, Raelnor’s laugh was raucous and sincere.

“He only scheduled me for that fight because he figured he would kill me. Fuck that blighted nug-”

“Rae, language,” Anders scolded, mainly because all of the younger kids would no doubt repeat what he said, all eager to emulate their older brother. He tried to ignore how Fenris stifled his chortle into his drink he had been raising to his lips.

“Sorry, mum,” Raelnor said, still beaming. Varric winked at him.

“Can you start tomorrow at noon?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good to hear, you’ve got the job, on one condition.”

Raelnor hesitated, his eyes flicking to Anders then Fenris and back to Varric.

“Which is?” he asked nervously.

“No more fighting for money.”

“Done,” Raelnor said immediately. He had already promised Anders (and a tearful Bree) the same thing the morning after his last fight.

“Alright, I’ll show you around tomorrow. Welcome aboard.”

“Anders, we found one of your kids on our patrol,” Aveline called as soon as she and Donnic arrived. Delilah waved at them meekly at the mage when she followed the guardswoman in, Donnic bringing up the rear.

“I thought you were staying at the Rose tonight?” Anders asked her.

Delilah had a bunk there along with some of the other girls where she usually stayed after her shift. She would usually come to the clinic around midmorning to spend time with the kids, taking them out into town or bringing them odds and ends she thought they needed. She had been steadfastly stubborn about not needing anything, to give to the kids instead.

“I changed my mind, was hoping you wouldn’t mind me bunking with the kids tonight. I was fine waiting at the clinic but, uh,” she floundered, and looked at the guard-captain.

“Aveline,” the redheaded woman provided kindly, smiling. “I insisted.”

“Thanks Aveline. Delilah, you can stay whenever you like,” Anders told her.

“You know how to play Wicked Grace?” Isabela asked her.

“Boy, do I.”

---

Delilah continued to stay her nights at the clinic once she was off work. Working at the Blooming Rose usually meant she crept in during the early morning hours. The first few days she looked surprised to find that Anders had waited up for her, but after a few times she seemed to grow used to it. They had established a tradition of sorts; Anders would stop working on his manifesto for the evening when she arrived and they would brew tea and discuss their days before both going to bed.

It was a nice routine, and Anders hadn’t had quite enough of those in his life. Delilah had been very polite and distant at the start, even offering to pay Anders for watching the children. He was just glad she seemed to be warming up to him.

She seemed extra tired tonight though. It was later than she normally got home and Delilah was walking favoring one leg. Anders had noticed that something seemed to be going on with her; something that had made her stop feeling safe enough to sleep at the Rose and jump at corners. He wasn’t sure it was his place to push her though. The other children had been all but officially adopted as his charges. Even Raelnor had come around.

“Sorry, healer, you didn’t have to wait up for me,” she told him softly.

“I didn’t even realize how late it was,” Anders lied. “Here, come sit down and I’ll make us some tea.”

Her smile was weak but sincere. Anders put the lid on his inkwell (improvised, a necessity with kids running around and bumping into the desk) and put his work and quill away. He gave his knee a brisk rub before he got up. From how it and his elbow ached, it was going to storm soon. Delilah watched him as he gathered the tea pot and filled it with water.

“Healer, I can do it,” she said, getting up.

Anders flapped a hand at her and continued with making tea. Rather than the normal tea he normally made, he dug out the last of the mix he had made to help with pain. It was a little bitter but it did the trick. He winced when he stepped wrong and felt the bolt of pain shoot all the way up through his hip.

“Healer,” Delilah protested but Anders was already leveraging himself to sit in his chair in front of the fire beside her, the water coming to boil hanging in the fireplace.

“How many times have I told you to just call me Anders?”

“It just feels weird,” Delilah admitted.

Anders rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile. Delilah had tried to call him messere or serah at first but he had finally got her to stop doing that. Maybe one day she would refer to him by something other than a title but every step closer felt nice regardless.

“Guess you could be calling me mum instead,” Anders conceded.

Delilah giggled and glanced towards the back of the clinic where the rest of the kids were resting. Her expression was fond, if not a touch sad. She got up to get the teapot from its hook before Anders could once the water inside could be heard boiling. Delilah poured their cups with a practiced hand and set the tea in it to steep.

“Sorry if that bothers you,” she told him once she had sat back down. “Rae means it in a good way. His dad was terrible and wasn’t around much but he had his mum, even if she spent more time drinking and wailing on him than taking care of him. She’s basically his only concept of a parent, he probably never even considered calling you anything else. He just calls his dad William.”

“It doesn’t bother me. My father… wasn’t the best, usually so I understand that,” Anders admitted. He picked up his cup but didn’t drink from it, content to let its warmth leech into his hands.

“What… ah, you can tell me if it’s out of bound, but what was it like growing up?”

She asked so hesitantly that Anders found that he wanted to answer more than he wished to avoid thinking about his parents or the life he had had, all those years ago. Usually remembering it made him feel lonely and like he was twelve years old again, cut loose and thrown to the wolves.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-” Delilah began to backtrack, her dark brows furrowed.

“No, sorry, it’s fine. I’m an only child, my parents moved out of the Anderfels to a small Fereldan village when I was very young, and we had a farm there. My mother was a caring soul, and she wanted more children but couldn’t have them. My dad was from a large family that was mainly still scattered all over the Anderfels. He was… bitter a lot because he was homesick. I remember I tried to learn his native language, and called him Táta when I was younger. I thought maybe it would make it… easier. It would be something special we shared, like my ma teaching me about healing. Eventually he told me to stop calling him that and just call him father. I think I disappointed him. His only son, flamboyant and more interested in cats and my mother’s garden of herbs than anything he considered boyish. He was the one who turned me into the Templars. I guess I should have just been happy that I had evaded the Circle as long as I had.”

Anders took a sip of his tea even though it was still much too hot for his taste. It helped force down the knot in his throat even if he still felt a bit like crying. He always felt like this when discussing his father; wistful for what could have been, if Anders hadn’t been so… Anders, shamed that he had not been enough for his own father, mournful and angry in equal measures with the cold, distant man who had wanted to love him so badly. His father had been sad under it all, plagued by darkness Anders could not have understood. More than once as a child when he had gone to his father in search of affection or comfort and had been turned away. Anders had sworn he would be a better father. As he had grown, Anders realized that perhaps his own father was a sign he shouldn’t be one himself. He often drowned in his own feelings of helplessness and desolation, he didn’t want to risk a child suffering for it.

Delilah reached to him and carefully tugged one hand from his cup to fold in her own.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. For him to turn you in, Maker it’s awful,” she whispered. “I was lucky in some ways I think, since I never knew who my da was. I was just another brothel brat, and all the girls looked after all of us kids as their own.”

“Is that how you and the kids found each other?”

She shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Our village avoided the worst of the blight, it was kind of out of the way, but a horde of Darkspawn were pushing in. The… Andraste, some of the villagers got the idea that if they locked the gate from the alienage to the rest of the city and set it on fire, everyone running out the other gate onto the road into the village would draw the Darkspawn that way and they could defend the village.”

“Did it work?”

“I didn’t stick around to find out. I just remember seeing some of the kids running and jumped the gate. Raelnor and I grew up together and he followed me over when he saw me go. We saved what kids we could and ran. Bree and Rosalyn ended up staying with us, we were going to get them to safety but that… didn’t end up happening. We met Tanner when we were passing through Denerim. He asked for help because he didn’t know where to get milk that was safe for babies to drink. The twins had been abandoned outside the local chantry with a note that just had their names. But the chantry didn’t have space for babies or the resources, especially after how hard the blight had hit them and Tanner… he refused to leave the twins even when everyone else in his travelling party moved on. They told him they didn’t have the money to take care of them so he stayed and did it, as best as he could. His parents were killed by Darkspawn, he ended up with other refugees from his village. In the end, we wound up on a boat here looking for some of the people he had been travelling with who said they were coming to Kirkwall but we never found them. Everything else is kinda history I guess,” she shrugged. “I know a lot of people think I’m stupid for staying here and taking care of them but I couldn’t just leave them. We’re a family now, after everything.”

Anders smiled and squeezed her hand. “Yes, you are a family. All those who think you’re stupid are the dumb ones. It’s admirable to do for others with no ulterior motive. You have a good heart, Delilah.”

She blushed and looked away from him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything other than how little they were. Bree was so small then. I mean, she’s still small but she was tiny. I picked her up and she weighed basically nothing. I just… couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. I wasn’t trying to be a good person, I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to them.”

“Because you’re a good person, sweetheart,” Anders told her.

She smiled some to herself before carefully pulling her hand back and taking to her own tea. They finished their drinks together, the silence comfortable and contemplative. The warmth from the tea seemed to fill him at his core and slowly the pain ebbed away. He hadn’t even realized the heat of the fire on his skin and the familiar hissing crackle had lulled him into a light doze until he felt Delilah’s lips touch his forehead.

“Night, ta, thank you,” she murmured before creeping away.

He listened to her as she got things settled before slipping back into their sectioned off sleeping area, a smile he couldn’t fight off gracing his face. The healer had planned to get up and bank the fire before turning in for the night himself. Instead when he awoke it was the Cat squealing in joy the next morning. Someone had covered him with a blanket and couldn’t even be upset about being woken up when Tanner was so apologetic about it. His kids were worth more than any amount of missed sleep.

---

It was inevitable that Hawke would need him for an overnight trip. She had agreed to look into demons that were coming from one of the caves near where the Sabrae clan had set up. With how long of a trek it was, they had never managed to make it back before nightfall and always had to make camp along the path back. But Hawke wanted a healer along with them and Anders needed some of the rarer herbs that only flourished on Sundermount.

Of course, that didn’t make it any easier to leave the children. He had given Rosalyn the key to the clinic so they could lock up if they left and had told them where to leave it when they went to bed so Delilah could get in. He had asked Varric to check on them and even accepted Aveline’s offer for Donnic to swing by during his patrol to make sure they were alright as well. He had made sure Tanner and Rosalyn knew where they kept the extra coin stashed in case they needed it. None of it eased the anxiety of leaving them to fend for themselves without him.

“Go, ta, we got it,” Tanner had assured him when he mentioned telling Hawke he would send her with extra healing potions, that he just couldn’t go overnight. He considered asking about the new nickname the kids (except Raelnor) had adopted for him but let it slide. At least they had stopped just calling him healer.

Varric knocked on Fenris’ door in the late afternoon. When he first saw Varric waiting for him his heart had rabbitted in his chest, sure that something was wrong. He couldn’t think of another reason for the rogue to come calling for him when Hawke was out of town for the night.

“What’s happened?” he asked immediately.

Varric chortled at him and raised his hands in a soothing gesture.

“Calm down Broody, there’s no fire. I just figured since I’m going to check on your children you should come along,” the dwarf cajoled.

“They’re not my children, they’re the mage’s children,” Fenris answered, but stepped out of the mansion to follow him regardless. He hadn’t even considered the logistics of where the children would be while Anders was away. Just another reason they weren’t his children; he wasn’t suited to looking after others.

“Whatever you say, elf.”

Fenris had expected they would go to the clinic and find the children inside, or perhaps playing on the landing just in front of it as they often did. They met Donnic coming down from Lowtown, apparently given the same task as them by his wife. The man didn’t look too put out by it though, laughing and joking with them as they made their way through the slums.

Rather than the sound of Rosalyn’s distinct tinkling laughter or Bree shouting or even one of the twin’s excited baby talk, there was the sound of a child crying. Fenris heard it first and took off in a run, hearing Varric’s surprised shout at his sudden departure and the clattering of Donnic’s armor as he hurried to catch up.

When he rounded the corner, his heart calmed some to see all five of the younger children sitting against the wall just outside the clinic’s doors. Rosalyn’s face was buried in her knees as she wailed, Tanner rubbing her back with a contrite expression.

Cahir was the first to notice Fenris approaching and called out, “Da!” to him excitedly just as Donnic and Varric rounded the corner. Varric complained about how fast he was when they caught, practically panting. Fenris made a note to tease the dwarf about being out of shape later.

Once he knew what was wrong with his kids. The mage’s kids, he meant.

“What’s wrong?” Fenris asked Rosalyn when she looked up at him with wet eyes.

Her face scrunched up again before she could speak and she let out a small hiccuping sob. The warrior found himself wrong footed and unsure how to proceed; danger and fighting were more his forte, crying girls and children not so much. He wasn’t sure what to say to calm her but clearly she was upset and needed something. Fenris would have given her anything to wipe away her devastated expression.

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “Tell me what has happened and I will do what I can to rectify it.”

“T-the healer gave me the k-key to hold onto but I lost,” she choked out before sniffling miserably. “It’s his only one, he’s going to be so mad. He told me he was giving it to me because he t-trusted me with it and-” she sobbed again.

“Well that’s not the end of the world, sweetheart,” Donnic told her.

Rosalyn looked up at the guardsman.

“B-but I lost it, and…”

“No one’s hurt or dying, the sky isn’t falling, the clinic isn’t on fire, and all of you are together,” Donnic told her in a calm voice. He knelt and ruffled her hair.

“If you know about where you lost it we can ask around and see if anyone found it, if not we can retrace your steps and look for it,” Fenris offered when she looked at him.

“Even if someone did pick it up they would have no way to know which door in the city it opened,” Varric agreed. “Not to mention I can just pick the lock to let you in and replace the lock.”

“Oh! We know right where it is we just can’t… uh… get to it,” Bree told them. “You’ll help us, right da?”

Fenris looked to Varric and Donnic, unsure who the girl was addressing only to find them both aiming what Fenris could only describe as shit-eating grins at him. Oh, she means me, he recognized. Looked like he would probably be best keeping his taunts about Varric’s stamina to himself for a bit.

"Yes, we'll help you," he told Bree, already resigned to his fate.

“How ?”

Fenris felt a little bad for his incredulous tone when Rosalyn hiccuped and sniffled behind him but really how she had managed to drop the key where she had eluded Fenris. Over a wall and down the side of the steep rock Kirkwall was built into and on top of, of all things. The kids hadn’t been wrong; they had taken them straight to the key. It taunted them from a jutting section of wall built out to take the brunt of the waves that crashed against Kirkwall’s walls. Occasionally the light winked off it whenever the clouds weren’t hiding the slowly setting sun.

“Cahir saw a bird,” she offered meekly.

All three of the adults stepped away from the low wall they had been leaning over to peer down at the key to turn and look at her more fully. Ironically they were within eyesight of the clinic’s door still.

“Cahir… saw a bird…” Fenris repeated slowly, feeling his eyebrow raise in question against his will.

“He’s been fussy all day and didn’t want to be carried, but if we let him down he ran off. There was a bird here, and he saw it and tried to grab it. Tanner was holding him but he was so wriggly that when he jumped Tanner couldn’t catch him. I did but I forgot… I forgot I was holding the key and it flew out of my hand. I just panicked! I… the spikes, and no one else was close- I had-”

“I see,” Fenris said, nodding. “Things happen, we will figure it out. Cahir is more important than the key,” and he didn’t even want to imagine the boy managing to land on the rusty spikes that lined the outer half walls of Darktown’s walkways.

“Told you,” Tanner told her, “Cahir would have gotten really hurt, I knew they would listen and not be mad, Ros.”

“No, you didn’t, you just said we might as well tell the truth because they would find out.”

“Shh,” the dwarven boy said but wouldn’t look at any of them. “You could have told them I dropped it, I told you.”

“No one’s in trouble,” Fenris assured. “We just have to find a way to get the key now, alright?”

They weren’t going to be able to get the key. It was too far down with no real path to get to it. The three men had stood for a long time discussing ways of getting it before they had given up on the idea. They had discussed trying to hook with something or even getting a boat and going at it from the water. In the end, none of their ideas got them any closer to the elusive key. They had nothing that they would use with any accuracy to snag it and pull it back up, and any boat they would have been smashed agaisnt the rocks around the outcropping of rocks. Their plan of picking the lock itself and simply replacing it was dashed too as one by one Varric broke every lockpick he had in it, growling and cursing the entire time.

“If we got some rope one of us could rappel down to it,” Varric suggested.

“Are you going to go down after it?”

“I know us dwarves are small but we’re dense. There’s no way I would get down without falling, not to mention back up. Donnic? Dashing rescues are supposed to be your thing, just pop on down and grab the key.”

“I’m in full plate armor, I’m pretty sure the rope would snap if I tried. Fenris could go, he’s the lightest of us.”

“I’m able to pass through solid objects, not scale vertical walls,” Fenris informed them drolly when both the rogue and the guardsman looked to him. They stood in silence for a moment and Fenris glanced back at the clinic door. “I can kick that door down though.”

Varric considered it for a moment, tapping his index finger on his chin contemplatively.

“I got a guy that can replace it today,” he agreed.

Donnic perked up. “We have spare locks at the Keep we can install. They’re replacements for the ones on the main entrance to the Keep, so they’re sturdy. And come with more than one key.”

“Okay, so new plan,” Varric said and clapped his hands before giving out orders.

The new door looked almost too nice as it set into its new frame, out of place in dingy Darktown, but there was no questioning it was sturdy. Much more secure than the one Anders had had previous, and could be locked from the inside instead of just the outside, unlike its predecessor. To lock up for the night, Anders had rigged some kind of bar and chain across the door from the inside.

“Sorry about all the trouble,” Rosalyn told them all over dinner. Donnic had left to finish his patrol after helping them install the new lock but had returned for supper and had even brought sweets back for the children to have for dessert. They had all been ecstatic when presented with them, something Fenris made a note to bring them more of.

“We’ve been harping Blondie to change that door for months,” Varric dismissed, “really I should be thanking you for giving me a reason to just take care of it.”

Rosalyn smiled some down at her food and allowed Bree to pull her into whatever the kids were discussing so seriously. Fenris half listened to them, mainly happy that they were all at ease again and there were no more tears.

“Oh, were you two there when Aveline said something to Isabela about the dinner party? She was pretty hurt about her not coming and said she told her about it but I’m not sure I believe her. You know Ave,” Donnic asked them once it was clear the children were absorbed in their own discussion.

Varric snorted. “Oh man were we. Your wife can be ruthless, told Bela that if you two ever had kids together who asked what a slattern was, she’d just point at her and tell them ‘that’s a slattern.’ In the middle of Hightown.”

Donnic’s laugh was startled and boomed out of him.

“Yeah, that sounds like her,” he agreed.

“What’s a slattern?” Bree asked innocently, her head cocked to the side.

“Uh, nothing you need to worry about,” Varric said at the same time Donnic said “you’ll find out when you’re older.”

Both answers just made Bree pout but she dropped it anyway. Fenris hoped she didn’t ask Anders about the word later, as the mage had been persistent about them not cussing around the children. Evidently hearing Tanner call something “absolute blighted nugshit” had been a bit of a wake up call to how much they listened and repeated what the adults said.

After dinner, Varric had said his goodbyes and mentioned he would send Raelnor home with his own key once he got back to the Hanged Man. The boy had been enjoying his new job, especially since he got tips on top of his hourly wages. Donnic mentioned that he had to get home to clean before Aveline got back the next day. Before long it was just Fenris and the children. The elf was tidying up the clinic and trying to convince himself to leave for the night as well when Bree tugged on his shirt.

“Will you stay tonight, da?” she asked him. He wanted to dissuade her from calling him that but couldn’t bear to say anything when she was looking at him with wide earnest eyes. “Please?”

“Yes, fine, but you need to start getting ready for bed. It’s getting late.”

“Okay but you have to tuck me in!”

Bree grinned and scurried away to do as he said without waiting for an answer. Fenris sighed and surveyed the cots available to sleep on for the night. He supposed he should have guessed that he wouldn’t have the heart to return the mansion and leave them alone for the evening. He was just starting to put bedding on one when Raelnor came in and regarding him with a confused face.

“Just sleep in mum’s bed, it’s not like he’ll mind,” he had told Fenris, “those cots are tiny, you’ll never sleep on ‘em comfortably.”

“Da! I’m ready for bed, come tuck me in?” Bree interrupted. She tugged at his hand and Fenris followed her back to the children’s makeshift room, Raelnor’s chuckle following him as the teenager sat at their little table with his own dinner.

Rosalyn was sitting on the edge of the twins’ cot with a book open in her hands. She looked at him in surprise when he came in.

“Da’s tucking us in tonight,” Bree informed them and clambered into her own cot.

“Oh, did you want to read to us then?” Rosalyn offered, and held out the book. It looked well worn with it’s yellowing pages and cracked spine.

“Sorry, I can’t,” he told her.

“O-oh, right, sorry. We’re not your kids, um, everyone say goodnight and thank you,” she said even as her little voice wobbled with tears at being turned away. Fenris laid a hand on her skinny shoulder even as he refused to look at any of them.

“I wouldn’t mind reading to you, I just… can’t. I can’t read,” he admitted, something he had taken pains for even his friends to not know coming out easy when he knew it would comfort the girl. “I will stay and listen though, and I believe I did promise to tuck everyone in.”

He settled down in the rickety chair that was undoubtedly there for Anders to sit in and read to them nightly. Fenris wondered what he sounded like, reading to the children every night. With his expressive face and array of voices, Fenris imagined Anders was a good storyteller for children’s stories.

Rosalyn read a chapter to them from the book, something about a princess escaping a curse from what Fenris caught. The twins were asleep by the end of the first page, and when Rosalyn softly closed the book Fenris looked around and realized that all of the younger kids were out like lights. He tugged Bree’s blanket up to her chin, tucked Tanner’s more firmly around his feet and made sure the twins were not at risk of rolling out of their bed in the middle of the night while Rosalyn extinguished their lantern.

“I can teach you,” Rosalyn whispered to him as she got into her own bed, the book safely put away with a small collection of other books and toys shoved into the corner. “How to read, I mean. I used to teach the kids in the alienage, and some of their parents too. If you want, it’s okay if not, you may want someone else to teach you or-”

“Ros,” Fenris said to get her attention. He knelt beside her cot and brushed her hair back from her worried face. “That sounds very nice, thank you. I would love for you to teach me.”

If I am teachable, Fenris bit back. Rosalyn smiled at him and laid down. He settled her blanket around her shoulders and smoothed her hair back before standing and sliding out from behind the curtain.

Raelnor had put away the bedding he had set out on the cot and jerked his thumb at the door to Anders’ cupboard of a room. He didn’t go back to his cot with his siblings until Fenris had slipped into it and abandoned the thought of sleeping out on the cot.

“What happened ?” Anders asked as soon as he saw the new door the next day.

“Cahir saw a bird,” Bree told him sagely. Around her the other children nodded with serious expressions on their little faces and Anders could only sigh. At least the clinic was cleaner than it was when he left, he supposed.

(leave kudos and comments here please ♥)

#fenders da #fenders da2 #fenders fic #fenris x anders #anders da2 #fenris da2

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morsmordrehasbeensaved · 7 years

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CONGRATULATIONS KAY, YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AS ANDROMEDA BLACK WITH THE FACECLAIM OF ADELAIDE KANE!

We are so glad to have an Andromeda back right away, Kay! In our first acceptance round, we had such an incredibly hard time deciding for her, and we are so happy you decided to reapply for her again! You can really tell from your application that you’ve put thought into every single detail of Andromeda and her life, and your writing sample was just absolutely wonderful to read. We are super excited to have her here!!

Check out our acceptance checklist right here on what to do next!

♔ OUT OF CHARACTER INFO ♔

NAME/ALIAS: Kay AGE: I’m 27 (hello, I’m the rp grandma), and my birthday is January 30 - fun story: when I read Deathly Hallows for the first time, I freaked out at the graveyard scene because Lily Potter and I share a birthday and that sort of spoiled the emotional impact of the scene for me. PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She/her TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY: I’m from Arizona so we’re in MST right now (although we don’t change with daylight savings, which is nice) and also GMT -7. For activity, I would say probably a six or seven out of ten, depending on how long threads are in general here. I’m a teacher, so I’m gone most of the day and rping is how I relax at night, but sometimes I get home just too tired to write anything. That doesn’t usually happen, and if the rp does mostly short threads, I can almost always do some replies at night. Longer threads can be a little more difficult. TRIGGERS: REMOVED. ANYTHING ELSE: REMOVED.

♔ IN CHARACTER INFO ♔ FULL NAME: Andromeda Leto Black - she doesn’t particularly care for nicknames but Andie is acceptable, Meda, or Dromeda. Only for family or very close friends, however. BIRTHDAY AND AGE: July 19, 1960; now she is seventeen years old. (I picked a date somewhat at random but I tried to put it late enough that she’ll just turn seventeen before the school year starts, but I’m more than willing to change based on Bella’s birthdate if that needs to happen - although to be honest, I would love to have them as twins as well, particularly given how closely they resemble each other in canon. I think it would be a really interesting twist on their relationship but that’s just my two cents, and I’m happy either way!) PRONOUNS: She/her/hers SEXUALITY/ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Andromeda wouldn’t ever admit to anything but heterosexual heteroromantic, but she’s actually more pansexual and panromantic than anything. If it were an option, she might be interested in a relationship with another girl, but she knows that can’t (or won’t) happen and doesn’t see a need to pursue any relationship when she knows she’ll marry Mulciber. EXTRACURRICULARS: I’d really like for her to be on the Quidditch team as a Chaser. I love the idea of a prim and proper pureblood girl on the Quidditch team. I have a headcanon that she loves the feeling of freedom and she’s agile and fast on her broomstick (and the headcanon is expounded upon in the bio). Aside from that, I love all the extracurriculars she’s listed under. PERSONALITY TRAITS: +Loyal - you can’t be a Black and not be loyal. It’s been ingrained in Andromeda since birth to put the family first, above anything else. And she does. Except for the part of her that’s turning to other people as well, but that’s not well-known. +Smart - you have to be smart to make it in this family. Ignorance and foolishness simply aren’t tolerated, but luckily Andromeda was always interested in learning. She masks it at times, underneath a sweet facade, but her mind is quick and sharp. +Kind - It seems impossible, that kindness sprouted up in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, but it did somehow. Andromeda looks at those around her and wants to do right by them. Again though, she hides it at times because her parents see little use for kindness. But it’s there. -Withdrawn - though she longs to treat others well, Andromeda rarely lets herself get close to people outside her family. The ones who are approved as companions hold little appeal to her, and the ones she would befriend are scorned by her family. It’s a lose-lose situation and so her solution is not to get involved. -Impulsive - she hides it well, beneath her quiet nature, but Andromeda is prone to doing things without thought. It’s a Black trait, after all, and she’s proved it by joining the Quidditch team and befriend Muggleborns. So far, it hasn’t extended to anything that might bring harm or danger to herself, but it’s only a matter of time before that happens. -Deceptive - she doesn’t mean to lie or be deceitful, but Andie learned to twist the truth to her favor as a child. She never wanted to be on Cygnus Black’s bad side, anymore than she was just for being born as female, so she managed to avoid it by slightly misleading him. She has rules for it, never anything that could hurt or endanger anyone else, but Andromeda isn’t above lying if she needs to. BIOGRAPHY: The second born daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black came into the world in scorn. Neither of her parents were pleased at the birth of another girl and for that, Druella gave her the middle name Leto, after the forgotten mother of Apollo and Artemis. Andromeda would be doomed to fall into the cracks between her sisters: never as angry and zealous as Bellatrix, never as beautiful and cunning as Narcissa. Andromeda’s strengths and weaknesses were all but forgotten as she began trotting around the house behind Bellatrix. They were inseparable and even as a tiny child, Andromeda couldn’t think of anything better. Until Narcissa joined them. Andromeda was too young to remember her sister’s birth, or her first few years, but when Andromeda was four and Narcissa was three, there was a moment when Andromeda watched her little tumbled down the stairs and a sudden blinding fear and anger at the thought of harm coming to her little sister rushed through her. And that was the first time Andromeda really understood what it meant to be one of the Black sisters: the fierce, all-consuming love; the knowledge that your entire life would be about the other two girls.

That was how her childhood went: the Black sisters were always together and Andromeda always tried to look out for the other two. She knew, instinctively, that she held something they needed. Bella was fierce and protective, and Cissa was clever and demure, and Andromeda had enough heart for all of them. Not that her sisters were heartless by any means, but it was in a different way. Andromeda wanted to soften their sharp edges and remind them of the goodness and beauty in the world. She tried to be a lady and succeeded for the most part, but there were things her parents couldn’t take out of her: the pleasure of racing on foot with her blood pounding and her cheeks flushing; the thrill of speeding through the air on her broomstick; the joy of Muggle literature. Andromeda learned from a young age how to mask those things, however, and avoid drawing her parents’ wrath on her head. She mastered the art of sneaking in books under her cloak, and rebraiding her hair after flying, and cooling her cheeks down after she raced around the manor grounds. On the surface, Andromeda acted almost as much the perfect pureblood lady as her younger sister did, and she let her rebellious nature lurk beneath that so she could indulge it secretly.

Hogwarts brought a change to Andromeda’s ordered life. The hat debated briefly which house to place her into, but Slytherin won out. Though no one would guess it, Andromeda had immense determination hiding beneath the surface as well and the hat recognized it. Andromeda wanted to be as unobtrusive as possible for her first year and shadowed Bella almost constantly, never apart from her sister. She wrote Narcissa on a nightly basis, counting down the moments until they were united again. The only thing that managed to break through the icy front she put up - imitating what she thought her sisters would do - was the weekly flying lessons. Which she didn’t need, of course, but she enjoyed nonetheless; it was fun but more importantly, it gave her a never before seen insight into the lives of those who weren’t purebloods. The fear and joy Muggleborn students felt as they began flying sent joy into Andromeda’s own heart, and she began to take note of the other students in way she hadn’t done before. Despite what her parents had told her for the past eleven years, she could see that they weren’t lesser or beneath her. That might have rattled her a little bit, but she still pursued it. That first year marked the beginning of her careful foray into the lives of halfbloods or Muggleborns, and Andromeda had a new world opened up to her. New friends, new thoughts, new ideals - pureblood supremacy, a staple of her childhood and something she believed without thinking, suddenly seemed wrong. Andromeda hardly let herself think about it, and never expressed it verbally, but she began to change.

Although she did well in her classes, making it to the top in marks consistently, Andromeda spent her first four years rather unnoticed in the shadows of Bella and Cissa, and that was fine. But something in her longed for a change, and she resolved to join the Quidditch team when she was a fifth year. She didn’t inform her parents until after the fact, when she had the acceptance secured and she could inform them that she had flown “exceptionally well” and brought some pride to the family despite the less than ladylike pursuit. She so rarely opposed them that Cygnus and Druella gave in, in the end; Andromeda was on the Quidditch team and that was that. There were other changes; Andromeda was a little less careful in her associations with Muggleborns, although she always explained it away as necessary for a class. She didn’t become more vocal but she began writing down her thoughts and every counter-argument for blood-purity she could imagine. And it was barely noticeable, but she began seeing that there were other people as important as her sisters. Andromeda could barely bring herself to admit it, even to herself, but she saw the flaws and cracks in Bella and Cissa, and began to wonder what it would be like to have different friends. People who had flaws and cracks still, but not the ones that seemed to run straight to the moral foundations of society. With these thoughts already blooming, it was little wonder that Ted Tonks managed to work under her skin and into her heart so easily. Though she won’t admit it to anyone, least of all herself, Andromeda already knows where their friendship is headed, if she finds her courage. She knows it can be done - the Black family can be left behind, a life of freedom and goodness chosen - but doing it is a different matter entirely.

ADDITIONAL INFO:

Playlist: I picked each song for a reason, and the progression is meant to signify her character growth through the years: It begins with “Sweet Liberty” as currently Andromeda feels stuck and wishes for a change, although she doesn’t have quite the courage to make the change. “Broken Glass” and “Sit Still, Look Pretty” were chosen for the lyrics about changing circumstances and her willingness to grow and change (“So what? Still got knives in my back/So what? So I’m tied to the tracks/I’m gonna dance on broken glass” and “I don’t want to sit still, look pretty”); as she grows older, Andromeda is more willing to let go of her past and move on. “Say Something” is about her feelings toward her sisters as she starts making this change and realizes what it will cost her. “Fight Song” would be representing the time after she finally makes her decision and adjusts to it, and “The Girl I Mean To Be” is somewhat similar. With both of those two songs, Andromeda is learning who she is now and how she’s going to act. The last two songs - “Brave” and “Warriors” - are for when Andromeda is an adult, comfortable in her new situation and willing to fight for her new family.

Mockblog: I have some edits and character development asks published here, and I might do more while we’re waiting to hear about acceptances, just because I have a ton of muse for this version of Andromeda and it’s been a lot of fun writing her.

Plot points: (Here are some things I would like to do with Andromeda)

Muggleborn and Halfblood friends: As much as I love Ted and Andromeda, I believe that he can only be part of her reason for leaving the Black family. I’ve written this into her bio, but I believe Andromeda’s journey to leaving began earlier, and Ted wasn’t the only or even the biggest part of it. I’d specifically like to see her and Lily Evans developing a friendship (honestly, they have to have some things in common and Andromeda would have grudging respect for the girl who beat her out to the Head position). Any other Muggleborn or halfblood students would be welcome as well (or blood traitors!) and I want to have her and Sirius develop a relationship as well. I think he would be a part of her decision-making process, if only to offer support and a glimpse into the other side of things.

Bella and Cissa: They’re still close at this point in their lives, but that has to crack at some point. I’ve never had the chance to write this aspect of Andromeda’s life, and I’m dying for a chance to do so. Everything that has to happen to lead up to the estrangement, and the bitterness on Bella and Cissa’s part is so fascinating and I want to explore whether it’s a series of small things or one big fight, and who shoulders most of the ‘blame’ - not that it should be pinned only on one sister, of course, but surely one of them started the final descent into it. I have a personal headcanon that Cissa and Andie kept in touch via owl despite the estrangement and although that doesn’t have to be included in the future for this particular version of her, I’d love to lay the groundwork for it.

Ted Tonks: Look. This is one of my favorite relationships in the entire Harry Potter universe and I really want to see it develop from the ground up. Obviously they’re already friends in the rp, and I love that, but I picture Andromeda as very hesitant and opposed to romance (she never saw the need for it when she knew she would be betrothed someday) and the feelings with Ted are very unexpected, unwelcome, and confusing. But they’re real and strong, and enough to make her break away from everything she’s known, and I want to write that.

Healing: My personal choice for Andromeda’s future is Healer, and I would like to write her as starting that process (whether she shadows the Hogwarts healer, or starts working toward an internship at St. Mungo’s). I think that a career like this is something she also didn’t consider much because she was meant to be just a trophy wife, but she’s going to change her mind on that and start working in the direction of a job. (One of the ways I’ve written her in rps where she’s older is that she talked her parents into giving her a few years to work after graduation and postponed the marriage until she was twenty-one or so, which I think would be a fun thing to include here).

Writing Sample:

“Andromeda. Your father wishes to see you in his office.”

Stopping midstep, Andromeda murmured, “Yes, Mother,” instinctively even as she schooled her face into stillness. There was no question as to what this unwelcome order signified: a betrothal had been arranged, and she would be told of her fate now. She’d known it was coming - Bella had faced the same thing a few weeks prior, but Andromeda hoped she would have some leeway first. Time to grow more accustomed to the fact - although if sixteen hadn’t been long enough, a few more weeks certainly wouldn’t be either. Marriage seemed so much closer and more real with a face and name to the betrothal threat.But she turned quietly and began the trek through the manor house. Just moments ago, she’d been full of life and excitement and now everything seemed duller somehow.

She’d barely made it down the first hall before she heard footsteps behind her - light, dainty footsteps that only could belong to Cissy. A glance over her shoulder confirmed it. Narcissa caught up to Andromeda, wand out. “Hold still, let me fix your hair.” Andromeda paused and let her younger sister fill the role she had for so long, of beautician. All Andromeda could manage with her hair was a braid, sometimes a French braid or something more complex, but rarely more than that. In moments, Narcissa had deftly wound up the loose tresses into an elegant knot and moved around to pull some free to frame Andromeda’s face. “No matter what happens, or who it is,” she said in voice soft but firm, “nothing will ever come between us. We’re sisters forever.” With the hair fixed and color applied to Andromeda’s lips and cheeks, Cissy fell into step beside her on the way to the office. It gave Andromeda courage to feel her sister’s hand gripping her own and hear the tapping of heels on the floor.

They were nearly to the office when Bella appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. “Here,” she said brusquely, thrusting something in Andromeda’s direction. It was a necklace, heavy black beads and a sparkling onyx stone; one of Bella’s more treasured articles of jewelry and something that Andromeda had long admired. “Not to keep,” she added, eyes narrowing, “just for now. It’ll make you feel better.” Then she fell into step with the others as well, seizing Andromeda’s hand in a grip far tighter and more fierce than Cissy’s, but no less loving.

Andromeda was lucky to have them.

At the door to the office, the sisters paused. Andromeda embraced Bella and Cissy, allowed them their last minute fussing - Cissy with soft murmured exclamations over how pale she was, Bella with hissed advice on how to stare Cygnus Black down without crying - and then rapped lightly at the door. At her father’s terse command to enter, she shot one last look at her sisters and then stepped into the office. She could count on one hand the number of times she had been in this room. It was Cygnus Black’s inner sanctum, a place where few entered freely and even fewer came out unscathed. She’d been called her shortly before her eleventh birthday to discuss her upcoming Hogwarts education and the family expectations, and once when she was thirteen after one of her classmates had reported to their parents that Andromeda had been seen talking to Lily Evans more than once during the course of that year, and those parents subsequently informed Cygnus and Druella. Andromeda didn’t like to think of that conversation. Once she had come here after making a good impression on some Ministry official at a function; that had been surprisingly nice and ended with Cygnus gifting her a necklace and earrings that had belonged to his mother. But this time wouldn’t be like that one, although she suspected she would come out of it with jewelry.

“Sit down,” he began, waving a chair in front of his desk. As Andromeda took the seat, her father never even looked up from the letter he composed, and Andromeda was left to stare around the room as dread built in the pit of her stomach. The office never instilled any sense of peace or tranquility in her; it was too dark and the walls felt like they were closing in around her - which wasn’t even a feeling associated with the pending betrothal. She always felt like that in the study. “I have finalized your betrothal,” he added after setting the quill down and studying her for a moment. Andromeda didn’t reply; Cygnus didn’t like that. His daughters, or at least Andromeda, was to be seen and not heard, silent until invited to speak. Bella could get away with interruptions, as his favorite; even Cissy could, because she was the undisputed beauty of their family. But Andromeda’s place was different. “You will marry Joseph Mulciber after you completing your education. His family can use the good connections after the disgrace of his father,” his lips curled in disdain that someone of their rank had been so foolish as to get caught, “and we have secured Rodolphus Lestrange for Bellatrix. You will do well with Mulciber.”

The room had started spinning, although Andromeda betrayed no sign of distress. Mulciber? She had envisioned someone like Rodolphus or … or Lucius Malfoy - not actually Lucius, of course, because it was no secret that he and Cissy were meant to be a match. But Mulciber? She would have thought after his family’s scandal that he wouldn’t even be a consideration. But then, as her father had said, with the Lestrange family already linked to theirs - and the Malfoys as good as - there was no need for Andromeda to make such a spectacular union.

Joseph Mulciber. She was going to hate being married to him. He was cruel and thoughtless and she could see in his eyes that he would do anything to reclaim the family’s spot among pureblood society. Life with him would be miserable.

As Cygnus continued speaking, Andromeda didn’t hear a word; between the spinning room and the upheaval in her stomach, it was a wonder she made it through the rest of the conversation without losing her breakfast. She took the ring from him woodenly and slid it onto her finger - an ugly, ostentatious thing that didn’t fit into her aesthetic choices at all. But surprisingly, it wasn’t Joseph who occupied her thoughts as her father spoke.

Ted. All she could think about was Ted. His hair shining in the sun by the lake, his eyes so soft and gentle as they talked. The warmth of his hand. She was half in love with him, she knew, or perhaps completely in love with him. How could she face him knowing that she was betrothed to someone like Joseph Mulciber?

When her father dismissed her, Andromeda slipped out of the office and found herself glad that Cissy and Bella had dispersed. She couldn’t manage a conversation at the moment - with anyone, not even her sisters. The sympathy would be her undoing and she needed time to collect herself. So instead of seeking them out, she slipped through the halls of the house until she came to her room. Though Druella Black decorated the rest of the manor, she had allowed each of the girls to take charge of their own room when they were thirteen, and Andromeda’s reflected what she wanted quite well. Decorated in almost white and silver, she felt more at home here than anywhere else. Which meant that as soon as the door was locked behind her, the tears that had stung her eyes slipped out and rolled down her cheeks. The betrothal had been bearable when she thought she would marry someone like Rodolphus or Lucius; someone she at least could tolerate, or perhaps even respect in time. Someone she could build some sort of life with. But Mulciber … she could hardly even stand to look at him, let alone talk to or - she’d have to kiss him, someday. Do far more than that. The thought turned her stomach.

She would become her mother - a sudden wave of sympathy struck her. Was this how Druella Rosier felt, as she was informed of her betrothal to Cygnus Black? Perhaps it had been a cold, loveless marriage that turned her into the detached, disinterested woman she was today. Perhaps she could give Andromeda advice on how to handle her future -

But Andromeda didn’t want that future.

Andromeda didn’t want that future.

Bellatrix faced it, Narcissa faced it, Andromeda faced it. But she didn’t want it. And unlike her sisters, she could see a different future. It had blond curls and hazel eyes and a good heart. She had subverted her parents’ plans before - when she joined the Quidditch team, when they wanted her to host a tea for her sixteenth birthday. Surely she could come up with a way to change this as well, or at least buy herself some time. Joseph didn’t strike her as a patient person, really; if she could postpone the betrothal long enough, then he might lose interest. Her parents would be a challenge, of course, but she thought she could manage it. If there was something in it for the family, some hint of prestige or glory … something that would improve their reputation.

Something like healing - a Black working at St. Mungo’s might be a little unorthodox but with what Bella would undoubtedly do to the family name, they could use it. Andromeda was an excellent potioneer and wonderful with charms and had fairly good people skills. That was something that could be used to postpone a betrothal: she could work for a year or two. Or three, or five. She’d still only be twenty-two, if she worked five years; long enough to make Joseph Mulciber regret the betrothal and break it off, with time for her to steer her father’s eye toward someone she could stomach.

By the time she emerged, with the ring dangling from a chain around her neck, Andromeda had a plan for her future - work with the Hogwarts healer for the next year, secure an internship at St. Mungo’s, hint to her parents that it would be good for the family - and a pretty lie to explain why she didn’t wear the ring on her finger - “It’s so lovely but distracting. I thought as a necklace, then we would still know of the intentions without risking blindness any time I moved my hand,” delivered with a demure smile would assuage anyone’s concerns - and she felt much calmer in general. As her sisters moved to intercept her on the way to dinner, she flashed them a genuine smile.

“It’s going to be fine.”

#morsmordre accepted #andromeda black #hp rp #harry potter rp #marauders rp

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