Chapter Text
"It's a wax pencil. " Scout Harding explained. "It resists water, so we tend to use them for field notes or map sketching in places where someone could fall in a river or get rained on. Not much good out in the desert, mind you, but they were an absolute boon in Crestwood."
"Smart." Varric admired, twisting one in his hands, getting a feel for it. Not as light as the quills he was used to, but workable. "How come I never knew about these?"
"Because you do most of your writing indoors?" Harding smiled innocently.
"I honestly thought all that business with the inkwells and the quills was part of your process. " Lavellan teased.
"Alright, point taken." Varric grumbled.
Lavellan smiled, testing out the pencil on a wayward scrap. "Would it be alright if I commandeered a few of these?" she asked Harding.
"Whatever Your Worship needs."
Lavellan was making a care package. The wax pencils, several sheets of paper, and an oilcloth case to fit it all in. The bundle could be stuffed in a pack, or in Lavellan’s case, in the side of her armored coat.
"Think it'll go through?" Varric asked.
"Only one way to find out. " Lavellan grinned. "You want to write something to go along with it?"
"Just let me fiddle with my inkwell first."
Dear Hawke,
Andraste’s shiny knickers, am I glad to hear from you, pal. Hopefully this packet makes it through so you’ll have some stationery to work with until we can get you home.
Do you need anything? I don't know, do you need to eat in the Fade? Or sleep - I'm guessing not, since you'd probably just end up back in the Fade and that turns into a loop of shit i have no clue about. Fuck, I have no idea how this works. Even Chuckles is a little hazy on the matter, and he’s the closest thing to a fade expert we’ve got. At any rate, we’ve got some smarty-pants mages figuring out how to get you the fuck out of there. Just hold tight, okay?
Write me back and… fuck, just write me back.
Love,
Varric.
PS: Cole says you shouldn't need to eat or sleep there, just to be careful if you do actually eat or drink something.
To Varric, best dwarf ever,
Now we’re talking! Thanks for the writing stuff, it is really nice, actually.
I’m sitting here fishing and figured I’d write back while I wait for something to bite. (Did you know there’s a lake with fish here? I’ve caught some, but I didn’t eat anything. They looked normal but I’m more bored than hungry, so I didn’t want to risk it.)
Yeah, I don’t seem to need to do any of that normal stuff here. It’s kind of surreal (but hey, at least I don’t have to figure out finding a fade-shitter so I can go, right?)
In the meantime, I’m okay here. Seriously. Most of the fade isn’t nearly as icky as what we went through in the Fear Demon’s domain. A lot of it is just…normal dream things like “what if you were doing this stressful thing but forgot to wear pants?” or “Hey remember this dumb thing you did when you were twelve?” or “hey everyone, let's have a Cookout at the Bone Pit!”
Reminder to me when I get back, check and see if dragon is edible. (why the fuck did I never think to check before?)
Love you, bud. Take care of yourself, and let the others know I’m okay, would you? I don’t want them to worry. Let me know if there’s any progress on the getting-out-of-here-plan.
In the meantime, I don’t know, tell me what’s going on with you. Tell me what the Inquisition’s up to, what the latest Skyhold gossip is. If the Seeker’s still up your ass, tell her to piss off. On second thought, maybe just give her a wide berth for now.
XOXOXO,
Hawke
PS: Can you check on Fenris for me? I kinda told him I wouldn’t be long when I left to help out the Inquisition. Just don’t be surprised if a pissed-off elf winds up on Skyhold’s doorstep. I’ve included a note for him, if you wouldn’t mind passing that along.
Hey Puppy,
I’m okay. Seriously.
Alright, I’m kinda trapped in the Fade but it isn’t as bad as it could be? Anyway, they’re working on a way to get me back, so soon I’ll be on my way home, as promised. You know, just a slight delay.
I love you. Try not to be too mad at the nice Inquisition people, okay? I volunteered for this.
…so, I guess if you’ve got to be mad at somebody, be mad at me. I’m sorry. I’ll get home as soon as I can.
Love you,
Hawke.