Until recently, Anders looking worried indicated that the sun had probably come up that morning; it seemed so normal that for a second Hawke didn't even parse the dissonance clanging in the back of his mind. He'd been given to understand time operated on its own rules here, so while it had been (he guessed) something like a month since he'd seen anyone from home, Hawke himself might not even be perceived as having been gone.
That was at the bottom of a wealth of details to be sorted out later, though, and it was pointless to try to order now all of what fell on that list. They needed (or he, if Hawke was honest, he needed) to unravel what had happened at the Gallows and after; he needed to understand, or at least--to try. If he couldn't give Anders that there wasn't much point to any of this.
And he was doing a brilliant job of not focusing on what needed to be sorted out later, wasn't he? He shook his head like clearing dust, squared his shoulders and nodded, efficient if still a little visibly off-balance. The geometry of the place wasn't so bad once a person understood it (not that Hawke ...did, actually, but he was passable at faking as much), and the consequences were--well, certainly interesting. Like the Fade, but malleable for anyone who had the means, not just Dreamers. So meeting in the middle proved a path relatively painless, and didn't require anything like leaping through empty space.
Although if he'd been less preoccupied that would have been the route Hawke would have taken anyway, just for the sake of showing off. As things were it was only about a minute before they were within speaking distance, and then what could have been close enough to touch if Hawke hadn't stopped, steps uncertain (his walk was many things, but never that), brows drawn together like brushstrokes. He almost didn't know what to say, and wasn't that an untenable feeling, especially for the second time in as many minutes.
It was fine, his mouth was going to continue on smiling without his permission anyway. "Anders." (Again. Like if he just kept saying it, it would mean--that this was real, that Hawke could keep him here, solid and whole.) "I can explain--" he gestured, expansive and fluid, with a showman's sense of unnecessary drama, "--all of this."
...a pause. "Or at the very least I can pass on all the helpful tips I got, and then we can be confused together. It'll be fun!"
No it wouldn't. A beat, and then his face sobered - however briefly - looking (accurately) like he desperately wanted to move closer, but ...not. Either out of a sense of prescience or because most of what Anders felt hung around him like a halo, and everything about him projected distance. "I'm glad to see you," he finally summoned up, sincerity as always a little difficult. Meaningful sentiment laid him open in a way all his terrible jokes never approached, and there was vulnerability in that any sane person would be wary of.
But he'd stopped that with Anders a long time ago. "I wasn't sure I would, and I didn't want that to be the last time. Not after everything that's happened."
a challenge???
That was at the bottom of a wealth of details to be sorted out later, though, and it was pointless to try to order now all of what fell on that list. They needed (or he, if Hawke was honest, he needed) to unravel what had happened at the Gallows and after; he needed to understand, or at least--to try. If he couldn't give Anders that there wasn't much point to any of this.
And he was doing a brilliant job of not focusing on what needed to be sorted out later, wasn't he? He shook his head like clearing dust, squared his shoulders and nodded, efficient if still a little visibly off-balance. The geometry of the place wasn't so bad once a person understood it (not that Hawke ...did, actually, but he was passable at faking as much), and the consequences were--well, certainly interesting. Like the Fade, but malleable for anyone who had the means, not just Dreamers. So meeting in the middle proved a path relatively painless, and didn't require anything like leaping through empty space.
Although if he'd been less preoccupied that would have been the route Hawke would have taken anyway, just for the sake of showing off. As things were it was only about a minute before they were within speaking distance, and then what could have been close enough to touch if Hawke hadn't stopped, steps uncertain (his walk was many things, but never that), brows drawn together like brushstrokes. He almost didn't know what to say, and wasn't that an untenable feeling, especially for the second time in as many minutes.
It was fine, his mouth was going to continue on smiling without his permission anyway. "Anders." (Again. Like if he just kept saying it, it would mean--that this was real, that Hawke could keep him here, solid and whole.) "I can explain--" he gestured, expansive and fluid, with a showman's sense of unnecessary drama, "--all of this."
...a pause. "Or at the very least I can pass on all the helpful tips I got, and then we can be confused together. It'll be fun!"
No it wouldn't. A beat, and then his face sobered - however briefly - looking (accurately) like he desperately wanted to move closer, but ...not. Either out of a sense of prescience or because most of what Anders felt hung around him like a halo, and everything about him projected distance. "I'm glad to see you," he finally summoned up, sincerity as always a little difficult. Meaningful sentiment laid him open in a way all his terrible jokes never approached, and there was vulnerability in that any sane person would be wary of.
But he'd stopped that with Anders a long time ago. "I wasn't sure I would, and I didn't want that to be the last time. Not after everything that's happened."