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Consciences And Consequences [Closed]

Varric Tethras

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#1
((9 Firstfall, 9:35; Afternoon; @Joscelyn Hawke ))

Two days had not markedly improved Varric's mood, possibly helped along by the fact that he'd been sleeping like shit. Some comfort could be derived from the fact that nobody seemed to be looking for a mage, a pirate, an assassin, a noblewoman and a certain dwarven writer in connection with the slaughter of twelve templars and one Tranquil, but that comfort was decidedly minimized by the fact that said dwarven writer had in fact been involved in the slaughter of twelve templars and one Tranquil.

He'd killed at least one of them himself.

Varric had never kidded himself about being a law abiding citizen, but there were rules he'd always lived by, and not attacking the law had been one that was pretty high up on the list, for reasons both practical and ethical. Templars had been included in that category when he hadn't known any mages. Currently, they occupied a place in shades of grey; he wouldn't let them take Sunshine or Daisy, but they served a purpose, and what he'd seen two nights ago had been vivid proof that they weren't just there to keep mages from sneaking down to the kitchen to steal the last cupcake.

And he'd helped kill them. He hadn't known the mage they were trying to free, and obviously he didn't know Blondie. And Josc -

Shit.

He'd gone because she asked him to, same as Rivaini and the Crow. He didn't blame her for things going south. That risk came with the territory. But she'd held back something that could have gotten them all killed, and might still land all of them at the end of a noose.

The Chantry had clamped a tight lid on things; there had been no public announcement of the deaths, no panic in the streets. But the number of armored patrols, and the number in those patrols, had gone up: never less than three templars together now, and the hungry look in their eyes made it clear that they were looking for more than a guilty party.

They wanted payback. And he couldn't blame them.

He'd given thought to passing a tip through a few hands, just a whisper of where a certain apostate-slash-abomination might be found. Just one problem: it was in his best friend's basement.

So he hadn't, but neither had he been able to bring himself to go over there. And Josc hadn't sought him out. So he'd stayed in his suite, letting his network be his eyes and ears, never giving any hint that he might be more interested in one bit of information presented to him than any of the others. There was a lot going on in Kirkwall on any given day, and Varric knew most of it, even when he'd rather not.

He sat with a tumbler of whiskey at hand, his eyes on a sheet of parchment that had been brought to him earlier that morning, other scraps scattered on the tabletop in front of him. Twelve names. Twelve lives reduced to ink on a page.

And he'd been one of the ones who had done it. Letting the paper fall to the table, he leaned back in the chair and took a drink.
 
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Joscelyn Hawke

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#2
Josc was beginning to forget what actual sleep was. Her dreams were nightmares that woke her up in cold sweats and terror. It should have been templars that were the villains of such dreams, but instead it was Anders.

What Anders became each time Justice took over.

He was still recovering in the basement, but he was able to do most things for himself now. Soon, he’d probably make his way back to his clinic, and they would have distance for a while. Distance she thought she desperately needed to be able to sleep again.

Despite how tired she was, she knew that she needed to seek out her friends who had helped in the bloody endeavor at the Chantry. She was going to have to do a lot to make up for the shock they had went through.

First on the list had to be Varric. Her closest friend had been so angry she could feel it rolling off of him when they had parted.

So, after cleaning up, and trying not to look like she hadn’t slept ever in her life, she made her way down to the Hanged Man. If he wasn’t here, she wasn’t sure what she would do, but she’d find a way to track him down.

Thankfully, such tracking wouldn’t be necessary. Norah told her he was up in his rooms, and she trudged up the stairs leading to them. It felt like the worst walk of shame ever, but there was no one there who knew what had happened, save herself.

She knocked on the door, pushing it open a little. Josc usually just strutted in -- when she wasn’t notified he had private business going on -- but today, she lingered at the doorway.

Hi…” her voice sounded rough to her ears, but it might have just been the trepidation she felt. “May I come in?
 

Varric Tethras

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#3
The knock on the door wouldn’t have been unusual except that it was Josc who nudged the door open. She hadn’t knocked since the earliest days of their acquaintance, and she never lingered in doorways when she could saunter in like she owned the place.

“Hi…” The voice was ragged, the brown eyes uncertain and ringed with dark circles. Varric felt a slight, grim satisfaction that she quite plainly hadn’t been sleeping any better than he had, but mostly, he just felt a wave of relief that she was still alive. That that thing hadn't killed her and everyone in her house. “May I come in?”

“Always.” His voice was in no better shape than hers, but the response would have been gruff regardless. They’d been through too damn much together, and the idea that what had happened two nights ago might change things between them was not a welcome one.

He shifted in his chair, reaching for another glass and adding two fingers of whiskey to it before setting it at her place, then refreshing his own tumbler. Whatever the direction the talk went in the next few minutes, it was going to require booze.
 

Joscelyn Hawke

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#4
Always.” came his rough response. A welcoming word with a tinge of roughness. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well either as she made her way to the table. He had already poured her a drink and put it in front of her usual seat before she had even finished crossing the room.

She was tired, defeated in a way. This clustrefuck had been her fault anyway. How did she attract the crazies into her friend group anyway? Before he could start, she did, sitting with a heavy thump in the chair and taking a drink, “I trust too easy I know.

She was tired and drained. There was repentance in her voice, “I thought… I thought we could get through things without it turning into a mess. That’s why I didn’t say anything.

After that it just started tumbling out, “I’m sorry. I should have said something. Should have told you, the others. But he’s been helping people, and I didn’t want to break his trust. It’s not an excuse, just… that was my justification to myself.

She stopped, downing the rest of her drink and setting the empty glass on the table. Should she even mention that he was staying in her basement still healing up? Maybe he’d ask. But no one but her was allowed to go down there, and thankfully, no one else in her household had disobeyed that rule, even her mother.

She sighed, repeating her apology, but this time without all the word vomit, “I’m sorry, Varric.
 

Varric Tethras

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#5
In all the years he’d known her, Varric had seen Josc lose her cocky ebullience exactly once: watching the Grey Wardens carry her one surviving sibling off to an uncertain future.

Until now.

She slunk into the room and sank into the chair, picking up the whiskey he poured and taking a healthy drink. “I trust too easy I know.”

Varric certainly couldn’t argue that point, but seeing her looking so defeated was draining away the anger faster than it could rise, so he simply took a sip of his own whiskey and let her speak. “I thought… I thought we could get through things without it turning into a mess. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

He nodded. “Just … so we’re clear. That … was an abomination, right? Just so I know what to mark off the list of shit I never want to see again.”

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes stayed on the table as the words fell from her lips in a dispirited flood. “I should have said something. Should have told you, the others. But he’s been helping people, and I didn’t want to break his trust. It’s not an excuse, just… that was my justification to myself.”

“He.” Varric turned the word over in his mind. He’d met Anders. Shit, he’d bought the man a bathtub. He’d known he was a mage - an apostate, but he’d seemed genuine in his desire to help people in that hole in the wall clinic of his. Now, though … all Varric could see was smoke and eldritch light and blood, and all he could hear was that unearthly bellow of rage and the screams of the dying. “Josc … he … it -”

He broke off, trying to figure out what the fuck he was trying to say, and she sighed. “I’m sorry, Varric.”

He regarded her helplessly. Forgiving her required no thought on his part, but - “Josc, that thing slaughtered twelve people! And we helped it! I helped it!” His hand reached out for the scrap of parchment, wondering which of the names on it he was responsible for. “I killed a man, and I don’t know why.” He’d never killed anyone who hadn’t been trying to kill him. And when his finger had been on Bianca’s trigger, he hadn’t hesitated. Forgiving himself for that … that was going to take some time.
 

Joscelyn Hawke

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#6
Just … so we’re clear. That … was an abomination, right? Just so I know what to mark off the list of shit I never want to see again.” Varric interjected, and Josc winced a little. She wasn't actually clear on that.

"I think so?" her tone was completely uncertain. "Though from experience and what little knowledge I've gathered over the years, usually abominations twist and distort and never give control back?"

She sighed. The creature inside Anders had made it clear that it did not see itself as a demon, being offended when she even suggested it. To say that she had a conversation with it, might be more damning, but she would probably have to admit to all of it before this conversation came to an end. For now, she continued her professed apology, her non-excuses.

He.” Varric was having a hard time with what she was saying. The context of what Anders was and was not blurring together. It was a difficult thing to grasp, and even she was still having a hard time with what exactly she had gotten herself and her friends involved in. “Josc … he … it -

Josc, that thing slaughtered twelve people! And we helped it! I helped it!” she watched as his fingers touched a piece of paper, there was guilt on his face. Guilt that she felt as well, but maybe not as keenly as her friend. “I killed a man, and I don’t know why.

Josc pinched the bridge of her nose, pulling one of her legs close to her chest with her other arm. Anders -- or the thing that Anders had become -- was here for more than just healing people in the worst places of Kirkwall. He had confided his intentions in her, and she knew why those men had been killed. Varric needed to know what she had gotten involved in, what she had gotten him involved in. "I can tell you what I know, though I'm not sure it will make it easier."

She took a deep breath, looking at her empty glass. "The creature inside of Anders is a spirit of Justice, or that's what he claims to be. They were friends once, when he was a Warden. And Anders offered his body to him. He said that his friend was changed by his own desire to see mages free from the Chantry, but the creature still claims he is Justice. But this Justice doesn't see shades of grey. To him, the Templars are the oppressors, the evil holding poor mages prisoner, turning them tranquil against their will."

She sighed again, "It felt like a trap. I should have told you and everyone else to leave as soon as I felt that way. He wanted so hard to save that man, Karl. To free him from his bonds, but there was no freeing him from what they had done to him."

Her forehead pressed against her knee, "I should have let him go alone..."
 

Varric Tethras

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#7
"I think so?" Josc looked as perplexed as Varric felt, which took most of the remaining edge off of his anger. "Though from experience and what little knowledge I've gathered over the years, usually abominations twist and distort and never give control back?"

Experience? He put that question on a back burner for another time. Curiosity was currently running a distant second place to guilt.

"I can tell you what I know,” she offered, “though I'm not sure it will make it easier."

“I doubt it could make it any harder,” he replied with a shrug, draining his glass and pouring another three fingers; he had a feeling he’d be needing it.

"The creature inside of Anders is a spirit of Justice, or that's what he claims to be.” Varric couldn’t quite hold back the incredulous snort, but he let her continue. “They were friends once, when he was a Warden. And Anders offered his body to him. He said that his friend was changed by his own desire to see mages free from the Chantry, but the creature still claims he is Justice. But this Justice doesn't see shades of grey. To him, the Templars are the oppressors, the evil holding poor mages prisoner, turning them tranquil against their will."

“Shit.” He added more whiskey to Josc’s glass, then took a healthy swallow of his own, setting the tumbler down and scrubbing a hand over his face, trying to make sense of what she had just said. “That’s some seriously crazy shit,” he muttered. “That’s like saying all mages are evil.” Mind you, he could quite easily be persuaded that Daisy and Sunshine were just exceptions to that rule at the moment.

"It felt like a trap,” Josc said with a heavy sigh. “I should have told you and everyone else to leave as soon as I felt that way. He wanted so hard to save that man, Karl. To free him from his bonds, but there was no freeing him from what they had done to him."

Free him?” Varric shook his head slowly. “Josc, have you considered that this Karl had been made Tranquil for something similar? I heard a rumor that he was caught sneaking children out of the Gallows to give them to a cult of blood mages. What the fuck would this so-called ‘Justice’ call that?”

"I should have let him go alone..." Josc dropped her head onto an upraised knee.

“You wouldn’t be you if you had,” he told her resignedly. “What do we do now? Is he still in your cellar?”
 

Joscelyn Hawke

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#8
Shit.” Varric blissfully refilled her glass after her explanation of what was going on, bringing it to her lips like it was water and she was parched. “That’s some seriously crazy shit. That’s like saying all mages are evil.

She gave him an expression that said I know right? as she swallowed the large sip she had taken, "That was one of my primary arguments when I was trying to convince it that it couldn't paint them all with the same brush. Justice was having none of that."

She still felt defeated, and terrible about bringing her friends into that terrible situation.

Free him?” There was an incredulous tone in her best friend's voice. “Josc, have you considered that this Karl had been made Tranquil for something similar? I heard a rumor that he was caught sneaking children out of the Gallows to give them to a cult of blood mages. What the fuck would this so-called ‘Justice’ call that?

She sighed, shaking her head. Josc would have liked to believe that Anders wouldn't be involved in something like that, but maybe he was blinded by his own need to assist his friends just like her. She almost let out a dry laugh. He already had done something similar in just letting a spirit into his body.

You wouldn’t be you if you had,” she tapped her forehead against her knee when he said that. “What do we do now? Is he still in your cellar?

She lifted her head up, her chin now resting on her knee as she picked up the whiskey glass again, "He is. He's still recovering from his wounds, and he hasn't exploded yet."

Another sip, "He wants to go back to work at his clinic soon. I don't really know what to do Varric, he's been as normal as Anders has been since he arrived in Kirkwall since that night, though maybe a bit more depressed due to the death of his friend."

She put the glass down again, not wanting to kill it too quickly.
 

Varric Tethras

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#9
"That was one of my primary arguments when I was trying to convince it that it couldn't paint them all with the same brush,” Josc explained to Varric when he pointed out the hypocrisy of making the same blanket judgment of templars that some made of mages. “Justice was having none of that."

“Justice,” Varric repeated, shaking his head in disgust. For his money, there had been damn little justice in the Chantry that night and a whole lot of out and out murder, and all for the sake of someone that may well have been as big a monster as the one who had done the killing. Josc’s expression made it clear that she hadn’t yet heard the rumor that Karl had been handing mage children over to a blood mage cult; she never would have agreed to assist if she had. Varric might not know who - or what - the fuck Anders was any more, but he knew Hawke.

Which is why he knew that Anders was likely still camped out in her cellar.

"He is,” she confirmed, propping her chin on her knee and looking unutterably weary. “He's still recovering from his wounds, and he hasn't exploded yet."

Three days ago, that last statement might have sounded odd to him.

"He wants to go back to work at his clinic soon,” she went on, sipping pensively at her whiskey. “I don't really know what to do Varric, he's been as normal as Anders has been since he arrived in Kirkwall since that night, though maybe a bit more depressed due to the death of his friend."

“The fact that he killed twelve people isn’t bothering him?” Varric shoved the list of names across the table. “Justice may not be the only monster in your basement.” Anders had seemed normal enough. Admirable, even, with his dedication to helping the poorest of KIrkwall’s poor. But now … “Let him go.” He wouldn’t suggest an anonymous tip to the Chantry; he knew that Josc would reject the idea. Nor would he do it himself, though he didn’t dismiss the idea completely. If he ever thought that either Anders or Justice was likely to turn on Josc, the Knight-Commander would be getting an unsigned letter.
 

Joscelyn Hawke

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#10
Varric really didn't seem to like the name the entity had given himself. She had tried to understand it, but like most things to do with the Fade it was alien to her. Maybe if she had been born a mage her father would have taught her more about it, or she would have learned to have a better grasp on it. But had she been born a mage, her life and her family's life might have been dramatically different.

She knew she was trying to justify things to herself that scared other people, but after every fucked up thing Josc had ever seen she couldn't discount that maybe this spirit was not a demon. That maybe she'd be able to get it to understand shades of grey instead of absolutes. Varric was not so convinced of that.

The fact that he killed twelve people isn’t bothering him?” A piece of paper that listed names was pushed over into her sight. She frowned, felt herself tense just a little. “Justice may not be the only monster in your basement.

A moment later, “Let him go.

Josc closed her eyes and shook her head. There was more to it than just random people. Those templars had been there to set a trap. Despite whatever Karl had been accused of, Anders had helped many people on the streets of Kirkwall. More than the most charitable citizens of the city would. "If that man who had been tranquil had been Bethany... my father..."

She stopped before she said I would have been happy about all of their deaths.

She sighed and finished off her second glass of whiskey. "I won't involve you with in anything with him, if you like. But I can't give up on him. Not yet. Yes, we helped kill those men, but those men were there to spring a trap. I regret they died. But I don't have absolute trust what is happening in the Gallows is for the better of the mages in there."

Why should it matter now, her siblings were gone. Her father was dead. She wasn't a mage. But Merrill was. Anders was. There were likely apostates in hiding in Kirkwall right now, and those being abused in the Gallows. They had seen how Ser Karras would have handled the mages from Starkhaven. Maybe she'd played neutral in all of this for too long.

She closed her eyes. There were good templars out there though. Knight-Captain Cullen. Keran. Ser Emerick. "Do we have any more information on that rumor about the children being peddled to Blood Mages?"

Maybe she could help the good on both sides of the coin somehow. And maybe she could find out if the dead man they had defended was as bad as the rumors said.
 

Varric Tethras

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#11
Varric didn’t consider himself squeamish. He’d seen death and he’d killed. But he didn’t see himself as a killer; every time he had taken a life, it had been in defense of his own life, or that of a friend. And the ones he’d killed had been criminals … bad guys. Until now.

Maybe the templars would have killed them all in cold blood instead of arresting them. And maybe that mage had just been an innocent pawn. But the simple fact was that they would never know, because Anders and his pet demon had taken away any choice the rest of them had in the matter.

He didn’t really expect Hawke to take his advice. She wouldn’t be Josc if she gave up on anyone. But he had to say it.

She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. "If that man who had been tranquil had been Bethany... my father..."

“And if Aveline had responded with the guard to reports of a massacre in the Chantry?” There were two sides to that coin, and Varric’s was by far the more probable. “You think that ‘Justice’ would have had any respect for the law if she tried to arrest him?”

"I won't involve you with in anything with him, if you like,” she sighed, draining the glass once more. “But I can't give up on him. Not yet. Yes, we helped kill those men, but those men were there to spring a trap. I regret they died. But I don't have absolute trust what is happening in the Gallows is for the better of the mages in there."

“And what Anders did is?” he retorted, heat edging his voice. “That thing is exactly what makes people fear mages and want to keep them locked away. What he did puts Daisy and every other apostate in this city in danger; the templars are going to be turning Kirkwall inside out looking for him. You think they’ll believe that your mother doesn’t know he’s in your house if they find him there?” He scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling the stubble on his chin and cheeks. “If you’re in, I’m in,” he growled, “but if it happens again, I’ll kill him if I can.” From what he’d seen, it was probably going to be the other way around, but he wasn’t going to be able to live with himself if he just stood by for another bloodbath.

"Do we have any more information on that rumor about the children being peddled to Blood Mages?" Josc wanted to know.

He shook his head. “Nothing confirmed,” he told her. “I have to be careful where I poke around. The Gallows is buzzing like a hornet nest.” And if he confirmed the rumor? He didn’t really want to think about that. “Give it a few more days.” He tossed back the last swallow in his glass and reached for the bottle again. “If we’re all still out of jail and Justice hasn’t killed us, I should be able to get some more information.” He tipped another three fingers into the tumbler before him, tilted the bottle toward Josc with a questioning look.
 

Joscelyn Hawke

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#12
And if Aveline had responded with the guard to reports of a massacre in the Chantry?” Josc frowned, running her hand through her hair again. “You think that ‘Justice’ would have had any respect for the law if she tried to arrest him?

She had nothing she could say to that. If it had been Aveline there, they likely would have all died while Josc tried to diffuse the situation. All she knew was those templars had set a trap for Anders, and Justice had lashed out to protect his host. It was a mess, and she still hadn’t processed everything.

And what Anders did is?” She hadn’t heard that tone from Varric since Bartrand had left them in the Deep Roads to do. “That thing is exactly what makes people fear mages and want to keep them locked away. What he did puts Daisy and every other apostate in this city in danger; the templars are going to be turning Kirkwall inside out looking for him. You think they’ll believe that your mother doesn’t know he’s in your house if they find him there? If you’re in, I’m in, but if it happens again, I’ll kill him if I can.

Josc stared at her friend for a long moment, and felt some of her own resolution waver. For now she would just do her best to sequester everyone else away from Anders. In for a penny, in for a pound.

He’ll be going back to his clinic soon,” her voice was thick. And she knew she needed more time to decide how much more she was going to involve herself in all of this mess.

She tried to change the subject, hoping that she could stop reliving some of the horror they had seen that night behind her eyes.

Nothing confirmed,” He said about the blood mages, “I have to be careful where I poke around. The Gallows is buzzing like a hornet nest.

She gave him a nod as he continued, “Give it a few more days. If we’re all still out of jail and Justice hasn’t killed us, I should be able to get some more information.

He had finished off his drink, and tilted the bottle in her direction, She held out her glass, “Please.

Thanks,” she said as she took another long drink. Holding the glass with both hands. Josc would have given anything to have been magically inclined, or at least better educated. Maybe there was some way to separate the man from the monster.

Have you talked to Isabela? I haven’t talked to Zevran yet. Are they doing okay?” Isabela likely wouldn’t speak to her again, especially the way they had parted, and Josc would understand if she didn’t. It felt like she had lost a lot of trust from her friends in this venture, and it was going to take some time to get it back.
 

Varric Tethras

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#13
Josc listened to Varric’s rant so meekly that he almost felt bad for letting loose like that, but only almost. Anders and his glowing, smoking buddy had come with a hairbreadth of killing them all last night, and it hadn’t been sentiment that held them back. The next time that thing decided to slaughter a damned regiment, they might not be so lucky, and Josc knew it. She was no dummy, but she also wasn’t the type who gave up on the people she cared about … not when she had already lost too many of them.

“He’ll be going back to his clinic soon,” she mumbled, looking lost, and Varric felt his own anger and fear waver. He didn’t give up on his friends, either, and while Anders might not qualify, Joscelyn Hawke most certainly did.

He reached out to cover her hand with his own, squeezing lightly. “I’m with you,” he assured her gruffly. They had pretty much come back from the dead together, and if whatever came next required them to make that run again, he wouldn’t back down. “No matter what.”

She asked him about the rumors of blood magic, and he didn’t know. Wasn’t sure that he wanted to know, honestly. If they had killed a bunch of templars on behalf of a mage who had been smuggling innocent, magically-gifted children out of the Gallows to be either turned into blood mages or sacrificed … well, ‘suck’ didn’t even come close to covering it, and he’d be doubly glad that dwarves didn’t dream. But he’d still keep an ear to the ground, because he needed to know; they both did.

She accepted his offer of more whiskey, holding onto the glass like it was the only thing tethering her to reality.

“Have you talked to Isabela?” she asked him. “I haven’t talked to Zevran yet. Are they doing okay?”

Varric shook his head. “Haven’t seen either of them. Rivaini is probably drunk somewhere, and the elf … he’ll be all right.” He might even do what Varric hadn’t yet worked up the nerve for and take care of the problem, one way or another, but he wasn’t going to mention that to Josc, because he didn’t want his best friend putting herself between an assassin and an abomination.

“I talked to Daisy, though,” he went on, his expression carefully neutral. He didn’t know what had transpired between Merrill and Hawke, but as much as Daisy was hurting, he knew that Josc hadn’t done it maliciously. You couldn’t always choose who you loved, and you damn sure couldn’t make them love you back. “She thinks that the only one who can get rid of Justice is Anders, and that maybe it’s just scared or confused, that we need to find out what’s wrong.” Sounded easy when you just said it like that, and he quirked a wry grin at her. “Maybe it just needs some kittens to cuddle?”
 
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