Hawke doesn't sleep that night. She barely even makes the attempt. She spends most of the night in her training area in the basement. Even weakened by lack of food, she's stronger, faster. It will take time to learn how much and how to control it.
She definitely needs to talk to Fenris again, sooner rather than later. And Merrill. And everyone. Maker, Aveline is going to love this.
She knows she's being watched (how could she not, when she can hear their hearts, the blood pumping in their veins?), and has a few words with each of her servants when it's their turn. She explains very bluntly what's happened and what's being attempted. Orana, to her surprise, not only takes the news in stride but has some useful secondhand knowledge to offer. Bodahn is shocked and horrified, but shakes his head in refusal when she offers to release him from her service.
She gives orders for all of them to purchase silver neck rings from her account, and to wear them. And gives them all a substantial bonus. Orana still doesn't understand the concept of being paid, but Bodahn handles her accounts.
Hawke wonders more than once if she's making a huge mistake.
In the morning she goes to bed, which is probably why Varric is willing to leave the house. She sleeps like the dead until nightfall.
Damn.
Varric waking her up with a canteen is a surprise. She'd actually meant to go through with his original plan of donating his own blood, keeping herself a room or five away, so it'd still be fresh enough to be useable. His plan had been good but Merrill would probably have a better method, to say nothing of knowing how to help Varric recover from the loss afterwards.
As she eyes the canteen with suspicion, she thinks they'll probably end up reverting to that. Whatever's in here will be congealed and disgusting in ways she doesn't want to think about, and Maker only knows where--who--it came from. No one who'll be missed, for certain, no one who the world isn't better off without. No one who survived. She doesn't need to gauge how much blood is in there to be sure of that. She knows her friends.
But she doesn't ask, so Varric doesn't have to lie to her. She just grits her teeth and opens the canteen.
...oh sweet Andraste, the smell. Even like this it's overwhelming. She's been able to ignore her cravings for the past day or two only because all the blood around her has been nicely contained inside people she cares about, but now she's growling and drinking down the contents in a flash, gulping it, and it's cold and disgusting and clotted and her skin crawls and she'd like to vomit and it's life, so sweet, so rich, second-hand and old and what would it be like fresh and warm from the vein and she gasps and oh Maker it's almost obscene how good it tastes and she wants, wants, wants...
When she finishes her mouth is stained red, and she licks her lips so as not to waste a single drop, and she raises a finger to her mouth to feel the sharp fangs there. Not large, but she could expand them, she knows, if she needed to feed. If she decides she wants more.
And Varric is standing right there, and it's a damned good thing he cleaned himself off thoroughly before coming to her--she can smell the soap, strong stuff--or she'd be on him. Yesterday her heart would have sunk at the realization but now she's jubilant, her eyes shining, and she feels stronger than she ever has.
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She definitely needs to talk to Fenris again, sooner rather than later. And Merrill. And everyone. Maker, Aveline is going to love this.
She knows she's being watched (how could she not, when she can hear their hearts, the blood pumping in their veins?), and has a few words with each of her servants when it's their turn. She explains very bluntly what's happened and what's being attempted. Orana, to her surprise, not only takes the news in stride but has some useful secondhand knowledge to offer. Bodahn is shocked and horrified, but shakes his head in refusal when she offers to release him from her service.
She gives orders for all of them to purchase silver neck rings from her account, and to wear them. And gives them all a substantial bonus. Orana still doesn't understand the concept of being paid, but Bodahn handles her accounts.
Hawke wonders more than once if she's making a huge mistake.
In the morning she goes to bed, which is probably why Varric is willing to leave the house. She sleeps like the dead until nightfall.
Damn.
Varric waking her up with a canteen is a surprise. She'd actually meant to go through with his original plan of donating his own blood, keeping herself a room or five away, so it'd still be fresh enough to be useable. His plan had been good but Merrill would probably have a better method, to say nothing of knowing how to help Varric recover from the loss afterwards.
As she eyes the canteen with suspicion, she thinks they'll probably end up reverting to that. Whatever's in here will be congealed and disgusting in ways she doesn't want to think about, and Maker only knows where--who--it came from. No one who'll be missed, for certain, no one who the world isn't better off without. No one who survived. She doesn't need to gauge how much blood is in there to be sure of that. She knows her friends.
But she doesn't ask, so Varric doesn't have to lie to her. She just grits her teeth and opens the canteen.
...oh sweet Andraste, the smell. Even like this it's overwhelming. She's been able to ignore her cravings for the past day or two only because all the blood around her has been nicely contained inside people she cares about, but now she's growling and drinking down the contents in a flash, gulping it, and it's cold and disgusting and clotted and her skin crawls and she'd like to vomit and it's life, so sweet, so rich, second-hand and old and what would it be like fresh and warm from the vein and she gasps and oh Maker it's almost obscene how good it tastes and she wants, wants, wants...
When she finishes her mouth is stained red, and she licks her lips so as not to waste a single drop, and she raises a finger to her mouth to feel the sharp fangs there. Not large, but she could expand them, she knows, if she needed to feed. If she decides she wants more.
And Varric is standing right there, and it's a damned good thing he cleaned himself off thoroughly before coming to her--she can smell the soap, strong stuff--or she'd be on him. Yesterday her heart would have sunk at the realization but now she's jubilant, her eyes shining, and she feels stronger than she ever has.