I hate that Bioware is going to include another ‘silly’ dialogue option in DA: I. Hawke could afford to be an idiot because Hawke wasn’t ruling Kirkwall. As the Inquisitor, you’ll be literally deciding the fate of Thedas. Saving the world. Being a silly idiot who makes poorly timed jokes and answers everything with a dumb one-liner isn’t going to close the Breach.
Excuse the fuck out of you.
Have you played Dragon Age 2?
You know, the game where no one listens to the hero who can’t save the day?
Oh and pretty much your whole family dies and your lover will probably leave or betray you at some point.
Ever been so tired you get the giggles?
Ever used humour to cover up the fact you want to JUMP OFF A FUCKING BRIDGE?
Just because someone is funny, doesn’t mean they’re having fun.
Super busy right now, but not to the point where I’m going to declare a hiatus. Marian will be back in action soon.
The Spoils | Talons & Demon
Her snarky little comment wasn’t dignified with a spoken answer, Kili’s lip curled in a growl as he glared out across the tracks, at the train, everywhere but at her. He couldn’t remember if she’d been this infuriatingly flippant during her own Games, or whether it was a trait learned from the Capitol — but either way, he’d have to work not to strangle her at this rate. They tended to frown on violence when it wasn’t televised for their enjoyment.
But this annoyance did not last, her sudden about-turn in terms of attitude coming quickly enough to give him whiplash. Quite literally. His head snapped around almost inhumanly fast, his permanent scowl briefly giving way to a stare of utter disbelief. He hadn’t expected that. Would anyone expect it? As non-sequiturs go, it was a pretty spectacular one, and it automatically had him twist, looking about them for hidden cameras. Did they film on the trains? Could they? Either way, he wasn’t sure what the game was. Why say something like that? An attempt to win his favour? They were already supposed to be partners, allies — did they find him difficult? This and a thousand more paranoid theories flashed through his brain in those moments, but most of them failed to hold water. Not least because if they wanted a little spy to eke information from him, they’d chosen a pretty fucking poor one. Because that had been about as subtle as a thrown brick.
Even so, he was seriously considering on taking her up on checking her for bugs.
"Is this the new schedule they’ve set up?" He asked, altogether too brusquely. "You tell your sob story and I tell mine? ‘Cause there’s not that fucking much to tell. Got a mother. Got a brother. They live right across the damn street from you when we’re not both in the goddamn Capitol."
And if she thought he’d be telling her the ins-and-outs of that on a Capitol train, then she was even dumber than he thought she was.
"What? No, I’ve been worri—eugh!" with a groan of frustration, Marian buttoned her lips and let him finish. There was plenty more to tell and she knew it, but special thanks to the Capitol there wasn’t a soul aboard with whom she could have an honest conversation. It was parties with Caesar all over again: Smile, Talons, and the world smiles with you!
Doing the opposite, she watched Kili’s dark eyes flick about like black marbles. Checking for cameras, peacekeepers, the President himself… or maybe he was just a railway enthusiast. He’d taken this ride often enough, the unlucky prick.
"Oh, is that who that is? And here I thought you’d splurged on some gardening staff!” she shot back, then folded her arms to establish a physical barrier between them. Separate lives; separate stories. Same ending though, probably, but that was another day’s problem.
They passed inside a tunnel and Hawke refilled her lungs, watching Kili’s silhouette in the fractured light. “Just because—”
A pair of green eyes peered out from the passenger cabin. Chip. Barely fourteen years old, daughter of a paper-maker. She’d folded a napkin into a bird for Hawke just last night. Clever little thing. Marian had high hopes for knot-tying.
"Livia says to come see her." Chip paused to cast a wary glance at ‘Demon’, who she had been expressly told not to anger. And who happened to look very angry at the moment. "About the first gauntlet."
"Wouldn’t miss it for the world." Marian was grateful for the dimness as she brushed past Kili. "I guess that concludes today’s interview."
Game of Thrones
”We’re buyin' you yer own hat.”
”Which Ah’m goin’ t’then relentlessly decorate in preparation for winter, of course.”
"I’ll only wear hats that are absolutely festooned with pompoms.”
//I kind of want to use the Firefly prompts to make starters like this:
“WHOO-HOO! I’M RIGHT HERE! I’M RIGHT HERE! YOU WANT SOME O’ ME?! YEAH YOU DO! COME ON! COME ON! AAAAAH!”
Ruffles… did not suit the woman that Kili knew. Not Marian Hawke, and certainly not Talons. As a matter of fact, Cicero had committed a similar crime with his own outfit: a white suit and a shirt so deeply red it was almost black. A white suit! And here he’d thought that Cicero was mildly sane, what with usually sticking to black (even if there was a little too much leather mixed in). This sudden focus on an image change was worrying to say the least. Grousing, he tugged at his hair again, wanting nothing more to rip out the ties and stick his head under the faucet. Maybe he’d spray Cicero for good measure.
"Why interviews now?" He grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. "Things are quiet - no-one’s died in over a day. Why are they trotting out the fucking show ponies?"
"I think you just answered your own question: things are quiet. They’re bored." Hawke adjusted the train of her dress for the third time with a huff. Falling leaves indeed, she thought, the moment I get near a stairwell in this thing it’s going to be ‘falling Hawke’.
"At least you’re in slacks." Tight ones, she’d noticed when he arrived. Thank you Cicero. "And aren’t expected to do all the talking.”
'frozen' starter sentences
Ruefully, he runs a hand through his hair, slicked back and tied in a knot at the back of his head. If possible, he looked even more awkward and standoffish than in his usual rags.
"The stylists managed to corner me." He grunted, scowling. "Don’t say a damn word."
Stifling a snort, Hawke shrugged and moved to stick her hands innocently into her pockets - only that her current getup didn’t have any. Just a fountain of ruffles that started at her hips (which Prisca had melodramatically deemed ‘too twiggy’). As for her hair, well…
The Spoils | Talons & Demon
He let her go, falling back against the metal door of the train with a dull thud, arms folded across his chest. The wind whipped at his hair as the world moved along beneath them, and he pushed it irritably out of his face. Not nearly as irritable as her little revelation though.
“Did he now?” His lip curled, much as it always did when Capitol folk infringed upon his life. Cesar Flickerman. He was far from the worst of the primped and frilled serpents that infested the Capitol, but something about the man set his teeth on edge all the same. There was something hideously perverse about his media frenzy, and his permanent smile as he interviewed children destined to die. He had been one of those children once, and Cesar had been dying to ‘catch up’ ever since. Hence the little dig about ‘uncut’ footage: thus far Cesar had rather been dodged at every turn, or left with footage that had to be very heavily edited. Then again, a lot of ‘Demons’ footage had been edited throughout his career — the grittiness was part of his appeal, apparently.
So she’d been mingling with the vipers, then? Why was Kili not surprised? “Oh, I’m doing fine.” He sneered, narrowing his eyes at the fences of District Three. “Matter of fact I’m downright giddy. Our turn to be Mentors, fucking whoopee for us!”
Idiotic, she thought cynically. Plain idiotic if she thought Kili was going to open up to her just like that. Especially not if they’d been at him. She was going to need a crowbar. ”Are you sure? Because this giddiness you’re talking about looks a lot more like ‘pissed off’ from over here.”
She looked down at the apple, red next to the cloth at her wrist, and flipped it from palm to palm before taking a bite to cap her fidgeting. It bloomed honey-sweet in her mouth. Like a bad joke.
"They took my sister," she told her own teethmarks. "They said it’s just a routine check, to ensure Bethany’s still in remission, but I’m not a fucking idiot.” Hawke’s face hardened as the apple core flew from her hand and out of sight; snatched by the wind drag.
When she’d won the games, Bethany had been given top-notch treatment much to the excited frothing of Marian’s fans. They’d posed for pictures together, smiling and waving in the dappled sunshine of Splitwood Beach while a team of stylists and her escort looked on proudly. It had almost been a happy ending. Except it wasn’t. Just a long pause for breath in the endless sprint of their lives.
She decided to gamble. “What about your brother?”