chrisisofaith | IC Contact

[ Magic suppression. Chris is no weakling, he can hold his own in a fist fight too, but five armed guards against one unarmed man is not a fight, it's brutality. ]

No, I imagine not.

[ That sickly film of worry and frustration that had clung to Hawke's heart since he learned where Chris was to be sent grows thicker. Tighter. His own voice sounds leaden to his ears and feels it on his tongue. He tries to push through it, telling himself silently that it could have been worse. Could have been a whole lot worse. ]

You're still hurt. Can I come to you? I'm no replacement for a healer but I can do something at least.

[ Please let me do something... ]

[He’s quiet again. Hawke will come and he’ll likely need access to the injuries. He’ll see where there’s still faded sharpie written on his skin.

Even without, he was a fool to consider Hawke wouldn’t find out.]

I’m at the Hollow. It’s Jacob’s house in the forest. I’ll send a pin.

I…thank you, Hawke.

[ The long pause makes something in Hawke's chest twist painfully, but he exhales a little in guilty relief when Chris agrees. The pin is sent soon after and he's able to start moving again, this time in the right direction. ]

Of course. I'm not going to leave you to hurt on your own.

[ He pauses a moment. ]

I know you're not alone, you're with Jacob, I just mean if I can help I'm going to do all I can.

[ He switches ears, looking both ways briefly and then crossing the street at a jog to race against the light turning. He's not far, thankfully, though he'd not grabbed a heavy enough jacket for the snow that's still on the ground. Right now it hardly matters. ]

I'll be there shortly. Do you want me to stay on the call until I get there?

[ Something in Chris' demeanor makes him not want to hang up. He doesn't question it, just keeps moving, desperate to get there as soon as possible. ]

[Yes.

What a foolish and childish thing, he berates himself.]

No, I’ll go unlock the door and maybe find some tea. Or a drink. Don’t need to hear me working on that. Don’t tell me you’re walking here, love, even you get cold.

[ The no sounds like a yes and Hawke takes it as such, guiltily more for himself than for Chris. He needs to keep hearing him, be reassured that he's out of that place and out of immediate danger. ]

It's faster on foot, I don't have to follow the roads.

[ Or in his panic he'd forgotten than taxis exist, but it all amounts to the same thing. ]

So tea, if you don't mind. It's soothing to make and I'm certainly going to need a cup when I arrive.

[ That much is true. His hands are starting to ache from the cold, but he's not going to waste the mana warming them when the movement is doing well enough. He needs his magic for something more important than cold fingers. ]

I can see the edge of the wood now anyway. I'll try and be quiet coming up, so as not to wake Jacob. I assume that's who you were talking to when you answered? I'm glad he was able to get you.

[ As if this is a normal conversation. As if it's not taking everything in him not to run full tilt to the Hollow and arrive gasping for breath on the porch. Even so, his steps over the call become more rapid as they begin to hit more snow now that he's off the main city streets. He's not running, but only technically. ]

[He's not sure that's true, but he doesn't argue. He also doesn't hang up when Hawke doesn't. Something he mildly regrets as he makes another stifled sound of pain and gets up again to go unlock the door and then head for the kitchen.

He listens to the crunch of snow from the other side and fights down the wash of guilt. Hawke wouldn't be rushing to see him if he'd just kept his mouth shut. 'Let's see how many smart things you've got to say now.' His breath catches and he carefully makes to pour some whiskey into two glasses.]

Yes, Jacob's dom bought me. She doesn't live here, so it's just me and him right now. He patched me up as best he could. You'll...you'll see it when you get here. It's no Death Tyrant bite, I've had worse.

[Physically, at least.]

[ It's no dragon bite, I've had worse. He'd insisted to Anders, his own blood still staining his teeth and unable to even look at the wound Fenris had put through him. He has no idea if he was right but it certainly felt like a lie at the time looking at the expression on Anders' face and trying to focus just on that and not the feeling of only magic holding him together or the absolute shambles his life had become because of the choices he'd made. It's minimizing, pushing away what's too painful in the moment, and he recognizes that for what it is too. ]

Good. We'll get you patched up anyway. Even if it's not the worst you've had, it seems incredibly unpleasant.

[ He wants to ask why not Kyle, as Chris had planned. Jacob's Dom had never been mentioned before in all their conversations, which likely means they're fine, but Chris trusting someone he doesn't know well to buy him is suspect. Jacob's request then, maybe? Likely of his Dom and not of Chris, which Hawke is of two minds about if that's against Chris' wishes. Ultimately he lands in grateful, though. Clearly he'd needed to be gotten out of there fast, but it does beg the question of how Jacob knew so quickly if Chris hadn't been in a position to message anyone.

All questions for later. Though not terribly much later as the house comes into view. ]

I'm here, I can see the house. I'll be there in a moment.

[ Before Hawke finally hangs up, the sound of snow crunching under his boots picks up to a runner's pace. ]

Edited (Coding ) 2023-02-16 14:47 (UTC)

[Incredibly unpleasant. Yes, that was a good phrase for it. This whole...thing was going to be incredibly unpleasant. It already had been with Jacob. He wasn't looking forward to it with Hawke. Or Jon. Or whoever else. There's shame, the embarrassment more sharp than the violation itself, but above it all is the guilt and anger. The twisting of his insides until he wishes he could simply scoop them all out until time did as it would. So he detaches from it. It's easy, really, to look at it objectively. It was no different than what he did to separate himself from pain in combat or from things that scared him. He simply...didn't need to feel any of that right now. He had to be above it.

He takes a generous sip from his whiskey and refills it as he hears the front door opening. For a moment, there's a spike of panic in the back of his mind. He can't see Hawke. What if it's not? What if it's one of them coming back? He breathes. It's Hawke. He knows it is.]

In the kitchen, Wolfe. Water's almost ready.

[Even dressed in Jacob's over-sized shirt and some loose pants, he does his best to keep his back straight, chin lifted. His lip is split and held together with one of those butterfly plaster things and there's dark mottling all up his cheek to the dark circle under his right eye. More damning is the belt-width, dark red, bruise still forming around the front of his throat.]

[ There's no thought to the quickly melting snow that Hawke tracks in on his boots, only the sound of his feet and the look on his face when he rounds the corner into what he hopes is the kitchen. He's breathing out air colder than the outdoors and it's plain to see now that he's inside but he pays that no mind either, standing there in the doorway looking disheveled, out of breath, and with every emotion vying for dominance in his expression.

Chris looks so... Small like this. Draped in clothes too big for him and wounds mottling his fair skin. It breaks Hawke's heart and he sucks in a breath, walking over tentatively. He wants to pull Chris to him. Wrap him in his arms and never let go, burn the world around them for daring to hurt him. But in the state Chris is in, that wouldn't be appreciated. Instead he very gently focuses on the black eye, bringing his hand up to hover lightly over the dark bruise. His hand begins to glow a soft green and slowly but surely the color improves by shades. Hopefully the feeling too.

Black eyes he knows how to fix. He's had enough of them in his time, but the rest. The rest... There's so much more and done not just with hands but other implements. He recognizes a belt bruise at his throat, had seen it in too many mages trying to flee the Circles or escaped slaves or native Submissives brought in to Haven, and he clenches his teeth behind his lips. Someone will pay for this. ]

There you are...

[ He turns his hand to very lightly, gingerly, brush his knuckles to Chris' healing cheek. It's barely a touch at all. ]

I'm a poor excuse for a healer but I'll do what I can for you. We can talk or if that's too much just... I don't know. Anything. Whatever you need, dear- Chris.

[ He stutters, nearly having said 'Dear Heart' and flinching instead. There's too much here for him to slip up and add more to the pile. He'd hate himself if he made this any worse than it already is. ]

[Even with the static in his head, he can read Hawke when Chris looks up from pouring them tea. He can see the tension and the frost on his breath and that stammer in his speech like he intended to say one thing and changed his mind. Hawke needed...stability. Needed to help and see Chris was ok. He could do that. It was something to focus on rather than anything else lingering at the edges of his mind.

The lessening of the bruising on his face into practically nothing helps and Chris offers a small smile as he presses his face to Hawke's hand.]

You'll do fine. When my magic comes back, I'll take care of whatever remains, you're going to help me weather the time between.

[He's not used to having injuries that linger anymore.

He goes to open his mouth, but his phone chimes and he reaches for it as he slides a mug to Hawke. A line creases between his brows and he responds quickly. Then again, a shorter message.]

Jon isn't...he's not doing as well as I'd like. Amelia's on her way here. Imminently.

[He makes to get another mug even as he knows he ignores Hawke's question.] I'm going to get her some tea and then we can start, if you don't mind waiting a moment. You ought take a breath anyway, love.

[Being stressed can result in an overuse of energy, Hawke would need his concentration.]

[ Perhaps if he were more clear headed Hawke would notice the dynamic here is not what it should be. Chris shouldn't have to be supporting him, not right now or with this. Instead all he manages is to cup his hand around Chris' cheek gently and then allowing him to pull away for his phone. ]

Jon will be alright, we'll see to that once you're healed. He'll be more alright if you can say the same.

[ Amelia arriving puts another stutter in him, mind starting to reorganize what his demeanor should be, how he will need to watch out for the both of them and how they may be feeling. But he stops, forces himself to stop even, taking a sip of his tea to steady himself and drawing in a breath of steam coming off the drink.

Chris is right, he will need his concentration.

He nods and sets the mug back down, pulling a beaten leather notebook from an inner pocket and starting to move around the kitchen to prepare what he'll probably need. ]

Don't stay outside too long, just bring her inside if you want her to stay. I'll get set up in here.

[ He stops in his rummaging for a moment, setting a stack of bowls on the counter and leaning over to brush his lips against the crown of Chris' head. ]

You will be alright, I promise you. I know where the pieces go.

[Hawke kisses the crown of his head and says...that and something tugs so harshly in him, his next breath shakes. His eyes sting for two blinks before the feeling fades. Not right now.]

Thank you, Wolfe.

[For now, he sets his phone aside and turns with the tea to head for the back door and the woman he can see coming up onto the patio through the glass.]

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