It’s not unreasonable to stand against a force that threatens our ecosystem, disrespects an already abused nation and ignores all present and long-term consequences of oil contamination in the name of profit.

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anonymous asked:

Prompt w/femHawke/Anders? : “I have to say, I am equal parts scared and fascinated.”

Written during @dadrunkwriting :)

Here in the deep road, he wonders at how powerful she is. She’s more physical than any other mage he’s ever seen, running to the front with her hands aflame. She and Aveline weave together, the shield and the storm, Hawke the deadliest cut of Aveline’s blade. She wields her staff with deadly fury, unafraid to bring the head of it down upon a darkspawn’s skull. Flame follows metal, the lava that lights the tunnels not as bright as she.

He and Varric stay towards the back. Anders lays a trap for the approaching alpha, roots it to the ground. Varric’s bolts are steady and repetitive, piercing soft flesh as they find their mark. Aveline winces when a sword nicks her arm. He sends his magic towards her, healing it before it can even bleed. Hawke doesn’t seem to need his help. In fact, she’s laughing.

She says something to Aveline, something he can’t hear over the din of battle, and soon, she is laughing as well. Two whirling dervishes, smiles on their lips, a gleam in their eyes. He’s seen that gleam before in other mages. Back when he was locked in a tower. Back when a demon was preferable to the Templars. It frightens him, scares him, at the thought of Hawke falling to a demon. No, no, Hawke would never.

It also fascinates him, the carefree way in which she moves. Or at least, the seeming freedom of it. There’s control in her power, every move calculated. Ice at their feet, a blade at their throats. Bolt, bolt, bolt. They tear through the horde quickly. Hawke claps a hand to Aveline’s back, grins as Aveline shakes her head and sheaths her sword.

She brushes back hair from her eyes as she moves towards him. “Alright, yeah?” She asks, her staff held loosely in her hands.

“No mage fights the way you do,” Anders tells her. She throws back her head and laughs.

“I doubt there are many like me, that’s true.” She’s wrong. There’s no one else like her.