( open ) which will refresh my broken mind

[eruit]

WHO: Hanzo Shimada and open
WHAT: New specialization and Angst
WHEN: End of the month
WHERE: All over Kirkwall
NOTES: N/A

I. GALLOWS TRAINING

Training with his spirits has become second nature to him now and he feels it as he steps forward into the Gallows; they've been growing stronger, especially since the intense dangers of the Deep Roads. His desperation to protect them, to not let Storm Bow out of his hands, had resulted in a level of fear he had never allowed himself to consider before; he had not wanted to run the risk of them suffering any more pollution because of his uncertainties and his pains. He had come so close to losing them already -

he grits his teeth. He cannot let them be harmed.

As he works with his bow, standing with his eye on the target before him, critical, his arm moves a touch faster. Three arrows are shot in quick succession, the shape of Hanzo's arm almost a light blue blur as he aims. He doesn't seem to notice, particularly, that anything is different with his arrows, his eyes sharp as some of the tension bleeds out of him, some of the tightness of his shoulders relaxing just so. He doesn't look happy, necessarily, but... Better, perhaps, for the shooting.

GARDENS

When he's not training, Hanzo spends a great deal of his time sitting in the gardens in the Gallows, legs tucked under him in something that seems like it must be uncomfortable for extended periods of times. He seems to be quite happy with it, however, more comfortable like this than he might be otherwise - with something familiar, something almost like 'home' - than he is in any other way. Being back from Tevinter for a few weeks now has him tense, a little on edge, not sure how best to handle the culture shift of 'home to 'Kirkwall'.

Can he even call Tevinter home now, when he has given up so much?

Other hours of the day are spent with him sitting with bits of paper and ink at his side, writing letters that will never be sent. He writes and he writes, almost as if he is dictating his life in a diary entry, pieces of parchment building a pile at his side. When he's done, or it seems as though he's done, he puts the paper to one side and bows his head, overcome by something, his hands shaking a little before he begins to fold them all, meticulous and careful. When he is done folding them he turns, creating a small circle of rocks before he starts a small fire.

Then, one by one, he burns all the parchments until nothing remains.

The fire burns out as Hanzo sits, watching it. He lifts a feather and places it on the burning pile, watching the shape of it curl into embers and ashes, watching as it falls apart, as it becomes nothing, just like all the words he had written down. He bares his heart where no one can see it then burns it away to hide the shame.

III. ROOMS / LIBRARY

When he isn't training or meditating Hanzo can normally be found in his room, settling down, tidying, folding and stitching his clothes. He sits with his formal gear on his lap, a needle in hand, repairing what was damaged during his expedition into the Deep Roads. He'd had to wash them first, deeply and with as much soap as he could muster, just in case the taint had been carried in the dirt and the blood, but he doesn't have coin enough to waste clothes.

When the door is more shut than open there is, at times, a faint, blue glow, just enough that it might attract attention.

Otherwise, Hanzo can easily be discovered in the library, books about Tevinter and the language open in front of him. He's an assistant project leader now and with it comes certain expectations, a certain level of understanding that means that he should at least be making some kind of an effort. He wants Corypheus to be defeated, he wants the Venatori to fall to pieces, for his family - well. The less said about them the better, he thinks, scowling at the parchments in front of him.

IV. WILDCARD

( Feel free to wildcard your own prompt or message me at aziraphale for a prompt of your own! )

Comments

[eruit]

"There is," he agrees. He had abandoned magic and learned how to use a bow and arrow - that had been difficult enough. Bring at range was one thing, but learning the upper body strength necessary to wield the Storm Bow had been a process in itself. The fact that there were spirits attached to it had made him want to do it more, not less.

"I have not spoken to the Avvar much. I am not inclined to share this knowledge with anyone." Why would he want to go around spouting about the fact that he has spirits bound to his bow, the fact that they were put there by his father? "I... Perhaps I will speak with them, in the future."

[aceso]

"As you see fit," Christine says with a slight incline of her head. "But if you choose to, know that their augur will surely know on your arrival, because the hold spirits will tell them." And the Avvar are a straightforward people, not inclined to hold back for politeness's sake like Christine. "There are several friendly holds in the Frostbacks. The one I am most familiar with is Falcon-Reach hold, but I know people at Honey-badger hold as well."

She thinks anyone should experience time in an Avvar hold if they're granted guest welcome. It's quite the experience when one is only used to the uniformity of Andrastian lands.

"For now, I should let you three get back to your archery."