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LOST, AND FOUND (a work of fanfiction that can be found at http://archiveofourown.org/works/7833421/chapters/17882275)
Chapter 1, 2016
A Ferelden drunk was not an unusual sight in the Hanged Man of an evening and this night was certainly no exception. Why the blond loser in the corner had caught her attention, Hawke was never quite sure. Perhaps it was the muttering about the hero Loghain. Or the strange ramblings about grey wardens. Or maybe just that he was handsome and his clothing was a tad finer than the usual patrons.
It had been a raucous evening of debauchery and laughter with Isabella and Varric. An unusual one where little brother Carver's glowering presence hadn't dampened the shenanigans and so things had escalated. Three sheets to the wind and without said sheet to cover her flushed nakedness (having lost a drinking game and her clothing to Isabella), Kirkwall's newest scion found herself dizzily demanding a rematch to the laughter and appreciative whistles of the tipsy crowd surrounding their table.
“Darlin' I think you've had enough alcohol tonight to sink an armada.” Varric laughed at her while surreptitiously sliding the nearly empty bottle near her elbow off the table and out of sight.
“Well, clearly not enough to convince her to sink MY armada.” Isabella pouted.
“She can sink my ship anytime.” The slurred words from some random stranger near the back of the crowd prompted Hawke to glower fuzzily at them all.
“No...sinking armadas while I'm naked.”
“Honey, when you're naked is the best time to sink an armada.” To the laughter of the crowd Isabella leaned back in her chair with a saucy flourish.
“Damn, I wish I'd thought of that one!” Varric shook his head as he pulled out a battered deck of cards. “Okay my fiery Hawke, I think it's time to allow you to try to win your clothing...and your dignity back.”
“Ooooo Wicked Grace! I love that game.” With a glint of card-shark shining through her intoxication, Isabella took a last swig and leaned forward. “So, the wager is Hawke's robe vs what?”
“You just drank the last of my money.” The red-headed apostate pointed out in a helpful and rather slurred voice.
“True, true, but perhaps there is something else? You could indenture your little brother to me. He's not bad looking and he'd probably like the life of a sailor.”
“Hawke's mother would have your head on a pole. Hell, Hawke's mother would have MY head on a pole for allowing it.” Varric's nimble fingers dealt out two hands while he spoke.
“But I need my...my robe back. Mother will kill me if I come home without it.” The plaintive note to her drunken voice made both her friends laugh and then Isabella slapped her hand on the table.
“I know. If you win, you get your robe back. If I win, you have to sink the armada of someone in this bar tonight.” The dusky pirate smirked. “You have a beautiful pirate, a surly barkeep, a sexy dwarf,” Varric interrupted “Oh no, keep me out of this!” Isabella shrugged and continued. “A rather nasty barmaid and all these...interesting men...to choose from. Personally I think the beautiful pirate is the best bet though.”
“Alright...I'll take that bet. I'm reeeeaaaalllly good at Wick...ur Wicked Grace.” Hawke plomped her naked bottom down in the chair and squinted at her cards.
Xxx
“You cheated!” Hawke didn't know how she'd done it, but of the three out of five, Isabella had lost the first two and easily won the last three when Hawke had agreed to keep going.
“Of course I did. Why you ever thought gambling with a pirate was a good idea isn't my concern.”
Varric gathered the cards, shaking his head and snickering. “Chalk it up to lessons learned my friend.” Hawke grumbled. “I should never trust a dwarf or a pirate. What was I thinking. If I ever do it again, stop me Varric.” The dwarven rogue laughed out loud. “You mean, before tomorrow night?”
“Oh, don't be a spoil-sport.” Isabella chided, then gestured grandly at the room before bouncing her own amply bosom at the naked woman across the table. “Time to make a choice. Whose armada is getting sunk tonight by our beautiful, if dangerous loser?
Standing with all the dignity she could muster naked and drunk, Hawke turned her nose into the air and began a slow and saucy saunter around the room, peering at each of the patrons in turn. Some flushed at her perusal. Some reached for her with greedy hands, but even drunk she easily evaded their touch. Until she found herself in front of the strange blond Ferelden in the corner. He seemed lost in his own world, paying little attention to his surroundings.
Funny, she thought to herself as she paused to study him. His own world was one of bitterness and sorrow and loss if his expression was any indication.
She knew about bitterness and sorrow and loss.
Without even realizing she'd made the decision, she moved closer and struck an inviting pose. “Hey stranger, if you let me “sink your armada”, I'll let you sink mine.”
“Wha? What are you talking about?” His blurred gaze moved to follow her voice and his eyes widened in surprise at the flagrant nakedness before him.
“Seriously? You don't know? Well… I think it means do you want to have sex with me.” Her voice faltered in uncertainty. Sleeping with strangers was not something she did often. Honestly, she'd kind of intended to make Isabella happy if she'd lost (she had really not believed she would lose).
“Have sex? With you?” His voice rose to a shocked wail and he nearly dropped the cup he'd been bringing to his mouth when she spoke.
“Yes, with me. Are you daft man? Never mind. My dignity is worth more than this. Not much more, but...” She turned away, then whirled as a questing hand caressed her bottom.
The man sat with wide eyes, holding his hand up as though it had been burned. “You, you're a real woman...talking to me and...everything.”
“What? You thought I wasn't real?” She gawked back at him in surprise and they stared at each other for a moment. A moment that slowly faded from outrage to ridiculousness and then they both began to laugh.
As the laughter faded his eyes dropped to the pale skin on display and he flushed but didn't look away.
“Do you still want to...uh...sink my armada?”
“Yes, yes I think I do.”
He stood, and with a clumsy but somehow noble bow, he took her arm in his and they staggered down the hallway together.
Chapter 1, 2016
A Ferelden drunk was not an unusual sight in the Hanged Man of an evening and this night was certainly no exception. Why the blond loser in the corner had caught her attention, Hawke was never quite sure. Perhaps it was the muttering about the hero Loghain. Or the strange ramblings about grey wardens. Or maybe just that he was handsome and his clothing was a tad finer than the usual patrons.
It had been a raucous evening of debauchery and laughter with Isabella and Varric. An unusual one where little brother Carver's glowering presence hadn't dampened the shenanigans and so things had escalated. Three sheets to the wind and without said sheet to cover her flushed nakedness (having lost a drinking game and her clothing to Isabella), Kirkwall's newest scion found herself dizzily demanding a rematch to the laughter and appreciative whistles of the tipsy crowd surrounding their table.
“Darlin' I think you've had enough alcohol tonight to sink an armada.” Varric laughed at her while surreptitiously sliding the nearly empty bottle near her elbow off the table and out of sight.
“Well, clearly not enough to convince her to sink MY armada.” Isabella pouted.
“She can sink my ship anytime.” The slurred words from some random stranger near the back of the crowd prompted Hawke to glower fuzzily at them all.
“No...sinking armadas while I'm naked.”
“Honey, when you're naked is the best time to sink an armada.” To the laughter of the crowd Isabella leaned back in her chair with a saucy flourish.
“Damn, I wish I'd thought of that one!” Varric shook his head as he pulled out a battered deck of cards. “Okay my fiery Hawke, I think it's time to allow you to try to win your clothing...and your dignity back.”
“Ooooo Wicked Grace! I love that game.” With a glint of card-shark shining through her intoxication, Isabella took a last swig and leaned forward. “So, the wager is Hawke's robe vs what?”
“You just drank the last of my money.” The red-headed apostate pointed out in a helpful and rather slurred voice.
“True, true, but perhaps there is something else? You could indenture your little brother to me. He's not bad looking and he'd probably like the life of a sailor.”
“Hawke's mother would have your head on a pole. Hell, Hawke's mother would have MY head on a pole for allowing it.” Varric's nimble fingers dealt out two hands while he spoke.
“But I need my...my robe back. Mother will kill me if I come home without it.” The plaintive note to her drunken voice made both her friends laugh and then Isabella slapped her hand on the table.
“I know. If you win, you get your robe back. If I win, you have to sink the armada of someone in this bar tonight.” The dusky pirate smirked. “You have a beautiful pirate, a surly barkeep, a sexy dwarf,” Varric interrupted “Oh no, keep me out of this!” Isabella shrugged and continued. “A rather nasty barmaid and all these...interesting men...to choose from. Personally I think the beautiful pirate is the best bet though.”
“Alright...I'll take that bet. I'm reeeeaaaalllly good at Wick...ur Wicked Grace.” Hawke plomped her naked bottom down in the chair and squinted at her cards.
Xxx
“You cheated!” Hawke didn't know how she'd done it, but of the three out of five, Isabella had lost the first two and easily won the last three when Hawke had agreed to keep going.
“Of course I did. Why you ever thought gambling with a pirate was a good idea isn't my concern.”
Varric gathered the cards, shaking his head and snickering. “Chalk it up to lessons learned my friend.” Hawke grumbled. “I should never trust a dwarf or a pirate. What was I thinking. If I ever do it again, stop me Varric.” The dwarven rogue laughed out loud. “You mean, before tomorrow night?”
“Oh, don't be a spoil-sport.” Isabella chided, then gestured grandly at the room before bouncing her own amply bosom at the naked woman across the table. “Time to make a choice. Whose armada is getting sunk tonight by our beautiful, if dangerous loser?
Standing with all the dignity she could muster naked and drunk, Hawke turned her nose into the air and began a slow and saucy saunter around the room, peering at each of the patrons in turn. Some flushed at her perusal. Some reached for her with greedy hands, but even drunk she easily evaded their touch. Until she found herself in front of the strange blond Ferelden in the corner. He seemed lost in his own world, paying little attention to his surroundings.
Funny, she thought to herself as she paused to study him. His own world was one of bitterness and sorrow and loss if his expression was any indication.
She knew about bitterness and sorrow and loss.
Without even realizing she'd made the decision, she moved closer and struck an inviting pose. “Hey stranger, if you let me “sink your armada”, I'll let you sink mine.”
“Wha? What are you talking about?” His blurred gaze moved to follow her voice and his eyes widened in surprise at the flagrant nakedness before him.
“Seriously? You don't know? Well… I think it means do you want to have sex with me.” Her voice faltered in uncertainty. Sleeping with strangers was not something she did often. Honestly, she'd kind of intended to make Isabella happy if she'd lost (she had really not believed she would lose).
“Have sex? With you?” His voice rose to a shocked wail and he nearly dropped the cup he'd been bringing to his mouth when she spoke.
“Yes, with me. Are you daft man? Never mind. My dignity is worth more than this. Not much more, but...” She turned away, then whirled as a questing hand caressed her bottom.
The man sat with wide eyes, holding his hand up as though it had been burned. “You, you're a real woman...talking to me and...everything.”
“What? You thought I wasn't real?” She gawked back at him in surprise and they stared at each other for a moment. A moment that slowly faded from outrage to ridiculousness and then they both began to laugh.
As the laughter faded his eyes dropped to the pale skin on display and he flushed but didn't look away.
“Do you still want to...uh...sink my armada?”
“Yes, yes I think I do.”
He stood, and with a clumsy but somehow noble bow, he took her arm in his and they staggered down the hallway together.
Excerpt from "The Night Color"
By Taunya Gren and Steve Fuelleman
A Victor Penn/Serendipity Smith Mystery
c2007
The night was saturated in color. How this was she didn’t know, and didn’t care. She was drowning in the rich, decadent fullness of purple and scarlet. The scent of blood and tears tearing at her heart and her groin, filling both with need, the breath of the wind like a lovers whisper against her skin. She’d never known a lover and that emptiness filled her eyes with unaccustomed moisture. Vaguely she became aware that the sensual whisper of the wind held a voice and she moved slowly toward it, skirts singing their own whisper against the long grass. There, under the trees, the shadow speaking of need filled, of warmth in the cold night. Arms outstretched to enfold her, her clothing melting away as she moved into their circle, the cold of the night air an exciting contrast to the warmth of the embrace. “Come to me, my pure one, my little pearl.” The voice shivered down through her body, sending it vibrating in response as....
“Did you write that report? Walkins wants it on his desk ASAP.”
She sat up with a jerk, startled and disoriented. “What?” she asked in a breathless voice, hands fumbling for her glasses.
Victor looked at Sara, surprised. Over the last 2 months she’d adjusted to the night shift very well. Sleeping on the job was not like her and her diligent nature. Her normally crisp and prudish appearance seemed rumpled and almost relaxed…heaven forbid.
“Walkins wants the report on the Forester case on his desk as soon as possible.” He came over to touch her shoulder and she flinched. “Are you alright? You seem a bit tired.”
She moved from beneath his fingers with a polite smile. “I’m fine. I’ve just been having trouble sleeping recently. Bad dreams.”
She began shuffling through the pile of paper and reference books that always overflowed her desk, eventually pulling out a folder, which she handed to Victor. “Here it is. I finished it last night… I… must have forgotten to put it on his desk.” At that, she exited the small office and headed off down the hallway, the brisk clip of her sensible shoes sounding on the linoleum floor.
.
“Did you write that report? Walkins wants it on his desk ASAP.”
She sat up with a jerk, startled and disoriented. “What?” she asked in a breathless voice, hands fumbling for her glasses.
Victor looked at Sara, surprised. Over the last 2 months she’d adjusted to the night shift very well. Sleeping on the job was not like her and her diligent nature. Her normally crisp and prudish appearance seemed rumpled and almost relaxed…heaven forbid.
“Walkins wants the report on the Forester case on his desk as soon as possible.” He came over to touch her shoulder and she flinched. “Are you alright? You seem a bit tired.”
She moved from beneath his fingers with a polite smile. “I’m fine. I’ve just been having trouble sleeping recently. Bad dreams.”
She began shuffling through the pile of paper and reference books that always overflowed her desk, eventually pulling out a folder, which she handed to Victor. “Here it is. I finished it last night… I… must have forgotten to put it on his desk.” At that, she exited the small office and headed off down the hallway, the brisk clip of her sensible shoes sounding on the linoleum floor.
.
Aefe finds a Crow
A character outline, 2008
Macha
Other Names: Mania, Mana, Mene, Minne.
Location: Ireland.
Description: One of the aspects of the triple Morrigu. Associated with ravens and crows. She is honored at Lughnassadh. Protectress in war as in peace. Goddess of war and death.
Rules Over: Cunning, sheer physical force, sexuality, fertility, dominance over males, childbirth, wisdom, overcoming enemies, past-lives:
Aefe sat staring blankly at the book open in the sunlight before her. The symbols and letters SHOULD have made sense to her but this morning the fog of exhaustion and the headache really had just stolen all meaning from them.
She sighed and rubbed her eyes before stealing a glance at the doorway. Evelyn had seemed either without knowledge of her night of partying or had not cared, preferring to leave her to her own folly.
She'd stopped the drug use as it interfered too much with what she was so determined to learn .....but... her knowledge of chemicals had translated well to her bartending skills. The party had been fun, although empty-seeming somehow. That emptiness puzzled her and she'd perhaps drank more than she'd intended to cover that strange lack. Well....she'd definitely drank more than she'd intended. Try as she might she couldn't quite remember how she'd gotten home.
She'd kept her eyes studiously away from the sunlight drenched window where she'd been set for her studying. Vindictive bitch.... Aefe grumbled under her breath. Come to think of it, Evelyn probably knew EXACTLY what she'd been doing and had done this on purpose.
A plaintive sound at the window drew her thoughts back from their ponderings and she reluctantly turned her eyes that way. A slight flutter and another sound, rather like a baby's cry had her curiosity overwhelming her hangover and she moved to the window and peeked out.
A crow...rather a young one, best as she could tell. And half it's feathers were white. As she watched it uttered once again it's plaintive caw and fluttered a bit more, too weak to actually fly away.
"Poor thing. You're just a baby." Aefe muttered in sympathy. A quick look at the closed door and then she slipped out the ground floor window as the young crow fluttered across the well-manicured lawn a bit before coming to a panting halt. A short chase later, and Aefe held the shivering bird close to her chest as she snuck carefully back in through the window.
"I wonder if they have some cat food in the kitchen here? As I recall, white feathers means you're starving." And with a whispered prayer that the bird would be quiet, she sneaked out the door to the kitchen.
Later, when the bird was fed, Aefe fell asleep on her book. And in a strange half-dream, she heard a little girl's sing-song voice recite:
Axe time, sword time
Ere the world falls.
Wind time, wolf time
Do you know more now, or not?
Now Garm howls loud
The fetters will burst,
and the wolf run free;
Much do I know,
and more than I can see:
Of the fate of the gods,
and the mighty in battle.
I know where Odin's eye is hidden,
Deep in the dark well of Mimir;
Mead from the pledge of Odin each morn
Does Mimir drink: would you know yet more?
Then to the gods crowed Gollinkambi,
He wakes the heroes in Odins hall;
And beneath the earth does another crow,
The rust-red bird at the bars of Hel.
Aefe shook herself awake. She'd read something like that, somewhere, but what she'd heard seemed truer, deeper, closer. She reached for a pen, and jotted down what she recalled. When she was finished, she looked up, and for a moment the crow turned it's head, and looked her straight in the eye. But only a moment before it went back to picking at the cat food Aefe had put in a dish for it.
“Muninn.” Aefe said to it. And sat there a moment pondering why. “That’s your name… Muninn….memory.”
And then she sighed and looked at the wrinkled page of the book she'd fallen asleep on. "Cause Lord knows I need it."
Other Names: Mania, Mana, Mene, Minne.
Location: Ireland.
Description: One of the aspects of the triple Morrigu. Associated with ravens and crows. She is honored at Lughnassadh. Protectress in war as in peace. Goddess of war and death.
Rules Over: Cunning, sheer physical force, sexuality, fertility, dominance over males, childbirth, wisdom, overcoming enemies, past-lives:
Aefe sat staring blankly at the book open in the sunlight before her. The symbols and letters SHOULD have made sense to her but this morning the fog of exhaustion and the headache really had just stolen all meaning from them.
She sighed and rubbed her eyes before stealing a glance at the doorway. Evelyn had seemed either without knowledge of her night of partying or had not cared, preferring to leave her to her own folly.
She'd stopped the drug use as it interfered too much with what she was so determined to learn .....but... her knowledge of chemicals had translated well to her bartending skills. The party had been fun, although empty-seeming somehow. That emptiness puzzled her and she'd perhaps drank more than she'd intended to cover that strange lack. Well....she'd definitely drank more than she'd intended. Try as she might she couldn't quite remember how she'd gotten home.
She'd kept her eyes studiously away from the sunlight drenched window where she'd been set for her studying. Vindictive bitch.... Aefe grumbled under her breath. Come to think of it, Evelyn probably knew EXACTLY what she'd been doing and had done this on purpose.
A plaintive sound at the window drew her thoughts back from their ponderings and she reluctantly turned her eyes that way. A slight flutter and another sound, rather like a baby's cry had her curiosity overwhelming her hangover and she moved to the window and peeked out.
A crow...rather a young one, best as she could tell. And half it's feathers were white. As she watched it uttered once again it's plaintive caw and fluttered a bit more, too weak to actually fly away.
"Poor thing. You're just a baby." Aefe muttered in sympathy. A quick look at the closed door and then she slipped out the ground floor window as the young crow fluttered across the well-manicured lawn a bit before coming to a panting halt. A short chase later, and Aefe held the shivering bird close to her chest as she snuck carefully back in through the window.
"I wonder if they have some cat food in the kitchen here? As I recall, white feathers means you're starving." And with a whispered prayer that the bird would be quiet, she sneaked out the door to the kitchen.
Later, when the bird was fed, Aefe fell asleep on her book. And in a strange half-dream, she heard a little girl's sing-song voice recite:
Axe time, sword time
Ere the world falls.
Wind time, wolf time
Do you know more now, or not?
Now Garm howls loud
The fetters will burst,
and the wolf run free;
Much do I know,
and more than I can see:
Of the fate of the gods,
and the mighty in battle.
I know where Odin's eye is hidden,
Deep in the dark well of Mimir;
Mead from the pledge of Odin each morn
Does Mimir drink: would you know yet more?
Then to the gods crowed Gollinkambi,
He wakes the heroes in Odins hall;
And beneath the earth does another crow,
The rust-red bird at the bars of Hel.
Aefe shook herself awake. She'd read something like that, somewhere, but what she'd heard seemed truer, deeper, closer. She reached for a pen, and jotted down what she recalled. When she was finished, she looked up, and for a moment the crow turned it's head, and looked her straight in the eye. But only a moment before it went back to picking at the cat food Aefe had put in a dish for it.
“Muninn.” Aefe said to it. And sat there a moment pondering why. “That’s your name… Muninn….memory.”
And then she sighed and looked at the wrinkled page of the book she'd fallen asleep on. "Cause Lord knows I need it."