Participants:

Bethany_icon.gif Tamet_icon.gif Carver_icon.gif

Scene Title All the Wrong Questions
Synopsis The twins try to escape the heat, and Tamet comes to say hello.
Location Lowtown Slums
Date 13 Solace 9:31 Dragon
Watch For Grumpy Carver being kept in line by his sister.
Logger Carver

Summer afternoons in lowtown were hot, inhumanly hot. The twisting streets were not conducive to any form of breeze. And, with five people living in Gamlen's glorified hole in the ground, it just got to the point of being oppressive. Thus, Carver and Bethany had opted to escape, not very far, just to the steps in the front of their home, mindful of the spikes that line the stairs. Because really, what's more charming in your slums than spikes? Bethany sits with one of Kailen's shirts in her lap, diligently taking a needle and thread to fix a tear in the under arm. She's humming to herself softly, with the 'walking stick' she usually carries around sitting just within her reach.

Heat rises, right? Right. That had been his logic, anyway. Unlike his significantly more dignified sister, Carver is laying on the stairs. Backward, so his feet are higher than his head. He's eschewed a shirt, even, because summer is fucking awful okay? A towel, doused in water, sits on his his stomach, cooling his core. He's practically panting. Beside him, between the two twins, is a dark bottle of some indeterminate liquid. But it's cooler than the air around them, brought up from a cellar, and that's something.

It was about damned time he'd been sent back to the slums. All the work in Hightown, and around the docks was wearing him out. So boring, so dull, just a bunch of fancy coats flittering about their day in one place and weird oxmen at the docks. After he was caught by that guard lady too, that sort of killed the thrill. Knowing she was watching. Tamet snorted at the mere thought, as he skulked around the slums. He was looking for a fight to watch, or some interesting words to relay.

Something.

It was as he was turning down a corner he spotted someone, well, two someones. Squinting their way, he mutters, "…shems…" There's a low sigh that escapes his lips as he draws closer. "…better not—wait…" he narrows his eyes on Bethany. "Oh! Her!" the kid blurted out, picking up the pace as he approaches the shack as it were.

"Looks like ya got back home alright, huh?" the elf boy wonders towards Bethany with a grin, though there's a low whistle that slides from his lips.

"…An' I thought th'Alienage were bad. Tch." the kid muses about the house.

Bethany seems to be doing her darnedest to avoid interacting with Carver's ridiculous state, or the fact that he's apparently stolen a bottle of wine out of some hightown cellar. But, Maker is it warm, so she can't really hold it against him. She doesn't quite realize Tamet is speaking to her at first, you here a lot of expletive-followed-by-pronoun in lowtown, but when he starts speaking about her getting home she looks up from her sewing. She blinks a few times before smiling at the boy, "Tam, I did." she says looking over her shoulder at the hovel. "How've you been?" she asks of the street thief. There's then a glance down to her brother, "Carver, remember the boy I told you about who helped me out of a tough spot the other day?" Then eyes drift back to Tam, "And do you remember the brothers I threatened those thugs with? Well, here's the younger one."

A little more jumpy than his sister, Carver's gaze (albeit upside down as it is) had moved to the kid near immediately. His brow knit, looking the elf over with more than an ounce of confusion. He wasn't used to there being people who knew Bethany that he didn't know. This was weird. When his twin offers that explanation, though, he nods. "Ah…" He says, "Yeah. That's me. Youngest Hawke sibling." There's even an eye roll to boot. Prat that he is.

"Helped? I prac-tic-ally saved her!" the kid claims, with a wide gesture of his hands. "If it weren't fer me comin' outta the shadows all watchful like, them idjits woulda gotten her good. I mean," Tamet rattles on, his voice still youthful, but with a Lowtown slurr mingled with that boyish arrogance that comes from street kids.

"She _helped_, but…" he griiiins, going into a moving action as if to fight an imaginary foe. "-I- got the leader." he says, ending on probably an over-the-top martial pose. Though his movements aren't terrible.

Bethany smiles as Tamet rattles on, with the same smile she often directed at the younger children in Lothering, the sparse few times she managed to get out of the house at least, when she wasn't sitting in a lesson or hiding, or having made a beeline straight to the Chantry. Carver likely knows that look, and likely hasn't seen it in a long time. But, it is a clear indicator of Bethany settling down in their new home for the long haul. "It's true. If it hadn't been for him and our own, courageous war dog." Giving the Mabari credit where credit was due. "I'd have been done for. All I had to fend them off was my stick." Oh. The irony. "Getting them for the whole of their day's take was a particular stroke of genius."

Carver actually laughs, shakes his head. Sure, that look means Bethany is settling in, but it also means that she's happy and Carver wasn't a completely terrible brother. Sometimes. Taking a deep breath, Carver pulls the towel from his stomach and chest, setting it aside, revealing the mabari tattoo on his chest. The towel had warmed to body temperature anyway and was no longer comfortable. He turns on the steps, coming to sit properly beside Bethany, and taking up the bottle to drink. "Well, then, thanks, kid." Carver says, as though this is the simplest thing in the world.

"Particular genius." Tamet states with a nod, as if 'particular' was some sort of word that it wasn't. He thought it sounded fancy, didn't bother learning it's meaning.

"An' yeh, I forgot about the dog! He fucked them idjits up, what-for, an' then some. Fuckin' awesome." the kid says, eyes drifting off towards his hands in the recollection of that fateful night.

"…Wish I had a war dog." Tamet mumbles, wistful, lifting his gaze back towards Carver and Bethany. "So, yeh, name's Tam." he says crossing his arms as he moves to lean nearby, nonchalant, though his eyes are constantly moving here and there-abouts.

"She said… Carver? What kinda name's that?" the elf boy questions.

The Mabari tattoo. Bethany tried her hardest to forget about the Mabari tattoo. Bethany also went out of her way to avoid seeing her brother shirtless, but today the sun had conspired against her. "We're lucky to have ours." she remarks about their mabari, who is inevitably sitting inside the house being a complete doofus. Perhaps purely for the purpose of annoying Gamlen. Tamet's interpretation of her use of the word 'particular' wasn't quite off enough to be worth her needing to cramp his style and correct him, so she lets it be. At the question about Carver's name Bethany laughs, "Our parents had aspirations about him being a butcher." She says, nonchalantly. Butcher, meat, carving, carver. Get it? No Bethany, that came out way more pointed than you ever intended it to.

Indignant, Carver is about to make some pointed answer about his name when his sister beats him to it. He'd had his mouth open and everything. It closes with a click of teeth as he sighs. Leveling Bethany with a look that says he doesn't find her joke funny in the slightest, he just shakes his head. Shouldn't have gotten out of bed today. Back to laying on the steps he goes. "I don't think that has anything to do with it." He says bitterly. Not that he knows.

"A butcher?" Tamet wonders, snorting out a laugh. "You ain't big enough t'be a butcher!" the boy states, though his height isn't something to shake a stick at. Still on the shorter side, even for an elf, he looks a bit younger then he might be. "Ain't they like, fat, an' ugly?" the kid questions, though it's clear he's never actually really met a butcher.

Bethany isn't precisely sure what she did wrong, after all, she doesn't know how armies work or the derogatory names that get flung out at soldiers. Apostates are generally either really sheltered, or really not. The confused, affronted look she shoots carver is indicative of just as much. "The ones I've met have been." She supplies for Tamet, turning to look at the elven boy instead of 'what the fuck'-ing at her brother. Her expression softens a bit. Maker, she can't stay mad at either of the doofuses for very long. "And carver certainly is none of that."

"I imagine they can look like just about anything." Carver says, with a little more edge to his voice than he really intends. More drinking. That'll somehow make this better, right? But, honestly, Carver had never much developed a taste for wine. And for all he's grumpy, just as Bethany can't stay mad at him, he's not very good at staying mad at her. Not that he says anything. The forgiveness is given in the smallest movement closer to his sister.

"Uh-huh…" Tamet comments, with a little glance towards the wine. Then he looks towards Bethany, "He's a real kinda up-liftin' sorta person, ain't he?" the kid questions, with another glance shot towards Carver, a thoughtful sort of thing. "…d'you like t'fight? 'Cause, I seen lots of good ones." the boy offers, with a little arch of his brows. "Not jes' countin' the ones where I win, either."

Bethany shakes her head, "Not in the slightest." she responds to Tamet. There is a disapproving glance at Carver, "Have you thought about eating a meal instead of drinking one?" But even with the harsh-ish words she's scooting a little closer to her twin brother in turn. At the question of if Carver likes to fight or not she just sighs, but doesn't inject any sort of banter, or try and stop Carver from answering.

Carver huffs. It's very… Canine. But he doesn't say anything to that little jab. He's not going to rise to the goading of a kid. But then that question comes, and Carver pops up onto his elbows and looks down at Tamet with a cant of his head and a raised brow. "Why do you ask?"

"'Cause you ain't sayin' much…" the kid observes pointedly, moving to rest his hands behind his head now in a languid fashion. "Most people what ain't got words t'say, means they seen lots of shit." he says simply, "Me mate, Leon, he don't talk much either. He says he seen lots of things, though." the kid says, moving to half-sort of climb up onto a railing, if there is one to be had. If not he settles on the edge of the porch.

There is kind of a railing it's just… sharp, and precarious no navigate, that that that's a deterrent to some. At the notion of having 'seen some shit' Bethany turns towards he brother and, with surprising responsiveness, but also gentleness, reaches out to take his hand in her's. So, yes, they had seen some shit, Carver more than any of the others. Other than the show of grounding support, which may well get her barked at, she leaves it up to Carver to answer how he wishes.

There is an instinctive, sharp, and immediate answer to that question. It begins to spill from his lips, but he only gets as far as the first, soft, negative syllable before Bethany is taking his hand. Blinking, he looks over at his sister, brow knitting in confusion. But he realizes something quickly and swallows before looking back to Tamet with a small shake of his head. "We're from Ferelden," He starts, "Plenty of people saw a lot of things before they made it here." Vague. And only speaking to the twins' shared experience. To hell with talking about, much less thinking about, anything else.

"Ferelden…" echoes Tamet, with a slow nod. He's light, and careful enough to find himself a safe little perch upon the railing. Though it's short lived as he decides to settle under it, with his legs hanging off the edge.

"Ain't that where the Blight was?" he asks, tone forming into one of boyish excitement mixed with curiosity.

"Damn… didja fight any darkspawns? Were you in the war??" Tamet asks, eyes going wide as he leans in a bit more towards Carver. Eager to hear the gory bits like any young boy.

Bethany more holding Carver's hand tightly, now less to the tune of 'It's okay, I'm here' more to the tune of 'Don't punch the kid in the face, Carver'. "We came to Kirkwall because the Darkspawn overran our home." Bethany explains, the sadness evident in her voice. "Carver was in the army, our father died, it was… horrible." She hopes, Maker she hopes that some of the solemn sadness in her voice might temper Tamet's enthusiasm to learn more, and consequently rub salt in Carver's wounds… but it's been a long time since Bethany's had to deal with a thirteen year old for a prolonged amount of time.

Again, there is an immediate response prepared for this scenario, too. But, again, his sister reminds him that she is there and somehow that manages to temper him. Carver just inhales through his nose and lets Bethany answer. Because he does. not. want. to talk about this. Not even a little. He hasn't. He doesn't. At least not what came before Lothering. So he's silent, and staring straight up at the blue sky and not looking at the curious kid.

"Oh…" Tamet says, nodding his head. He notes the tone of her voice, and falls silent for a moment, it hadn't occurred to him how awful it might've been. Of course, most things don't to a thirteen year old, so he felt bad. With a little sigh, he looks back towards Bethany. "…sorry." he offers, scratching behind his pointy ear.

"Didn't figger it was too much asking. But I guess it was…" he says, as he begins to slide from his perch. "Anyway… I should prolly get goin'." he says, stretching his limbs outwards once he's standing.

There's a little grin offered to Bethany, "…but at least I know where ya live now." he says, with a wink.

Bethany offers Tamet a sympathetic, kind smile, "It's alright." She says with a small shrug, "You didn't know and now you do." And that's really all the woman had to say about it. At him getting going she nods, "Maker watch over you." she says, because of course she does. Perhaps if Tamet wasn't thirteen the comment about knowing where she lives would be disconcerting, but it isn't. She gently elbows Carver in the ribs, trying to encourage her brother to be polite.

Look, just keeping his shit together is an effort right now. He's not snapped. He's not growled. He didn't even snarl. Carver was doing well. So the push to do more that is that elbow to his ribs gets a sharp look. It doesn't last, though, and Carver takes a deep breath. "Bye." A single syllable. It would have to be enough.

There's a lift of a hand, and a wave, then off goes Tamet. He vanishes into the streets.


Any additional notes fall to the bottom.