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[Delilah Howe]

[Outside the Chantry, Late Morning, Date TBD by Nathaniel]


The summer sun shone strongly upon a small patch of the otherwise shadowed courtyard at the foot of the Chantry's steps, lending Delilah Howe and the Chanter beside her an ethereal golden aura. As the woman droned on, spouting seemingly random passages from the Chant, the former noblewoman peered down at the wriggling bundle in her arms.

Little Nate's face was pursed like he'd eaten something terribly sour, but Delilah knew it was just the too-strong light. With tender fingers, she brushed his yellow blanket over his face to shield him from the harsh rays. He let out a loud squall in protest and punched his balled fists mightily in an attempt to remove it, but eventually gave up and quieted down.

Delilah's gaze rose once more to scan the area, but saw no sign of her brother yet. It was strange; despite knowing him for years, despite sharing a childhood with him... she barely knew him. He was a Grey Warden now. Would he be wearing that shiny armor with the blue griffin she'd once seen on the few near Amaranthine? Was he still angry at father? Not much had been shared in the short letters they'd sent each other, for fear that the information could be used against him in his new position. All that was said was the time and place of their meeting, and that was that.

The butterflies flitting about in her stomach grew ever more distracting. She inhaled, then sighed slowly in an attempt to quiet them, but to no avail. Where in Thedas was that silly man?

This post has been edited by Delilah Howe on Feb 29 2012, 02:04 AM

[Nathaniel Howe]

Kirkwall had not changed dramatically since he had visited it during his time being squired, but it was the first time he had been back as a Grey Warden.
There were more people crammed into it than there had been the first time he visited.

The Warden armor did more to deter people than the mabari pup who thought he could throat a dragon, but if he grew into his paws or his ferocity, he’d be a fine war hound in a few months. The purpose in Nathaniel’s stride and warning from the comically growling puppy kept him from worrying about pickpockets, even if he had anything of value to steal. Frederick occasionally barked at someone, and Nathaniel tapped him on the neck to quiet him.

“That’s enough,” he told the hound sternly, and the mabari turned intelligent, blinking eyes up at him. In recognition, Nathaniel put a hand on top of the dog’s head and rubbed the base of ears with his the side of his gloved thumb. Standing so that his shadow fell in the animal’s face to make him more comfortable, Nathaniel gave silent praise for a few seconds before pulling a hood down over his own face to keep out the bright light.

Reynard was curled up in the pack slung over Nathaniel’s shoulder, only occasionally poking his nose out between the heirloom bow and a quiver of arrows. The Ranger’s clothing was going to be odorous when he unpacked because of musk, but that was the price paid for making friends with a fox. They didn’t belong in cities, but Nathaniel was ready to find an inn and get a hot meal. He liked being outdoors, but there was something to be said for accepting what his surroundings had to offer.

It was easier for him to think when he was working, but thoughts marched with his footsteps as he made his way toward the Chantry. He and Delilah had kept a correspondence since Theron had taken him to meet her in Amaranthine, but he wasn’t the most articulate in letters. There was also restrictions on what he could talk about with his duties in the Wardens for security and the fact they would have been tediously dull to anyone outside the order. There wasn't much for him to put into writing even had he been able to.

Having a sister of his own, Nathaniel wondered how Fergus could keep from holding a grudge over what had happened to Kahrin. It was difficult to imagine if he would have been so forgiving had it been Delilah, and he hadn’t seen Kahrin since before the war.

With Thomas dead, Delilah was the only family Nathaniel had left, but aside from Amaranthine, the last time he’d spent any real time with her they’d still been children. Sigrun found one of the dolls at the Keep shortly after their Joining, and Miss Maggie’s arms were still missing after he’d gotten mad and hid them somewhere for his sister to find later. She had gotten even with the beetles in his bed* not long after that, but they’d both grown up. His sister had married and had a child of her own, and ironically the family line was gone for good except for her. Being a Warden left him no time or any inclination for family matters outside of his sister and nephew.

Pushing the hood of his cloak back once he came within sight of the Chanter’s Board, he scanned the opened spaces for his sister. Finding her almost instantly, he strode in her direction, no less awkward than he had been the last time they’d met in the market square of Amaranthine. “Delilah?” His voice, however, was warm, confident, and pleased.



*Taken from ambient chat in Awakening - normally I wouldn’t talk about another character’s actions unless the player has done them first, but that’s part of the stuff from in game.

[Delilah Howe]

Delilah was not kept waiting much longer. The tell-tale glint of polished armor stole her gaze from the alleyway which she'd been expecting him to come from, to the one he was actually striding from. As he approached, she marveled (not for the first time) at how closely he resembled father- that aquiline nose of his, so very characteristic of Howe men, the constantly wrinkled brow, even the small smudge of dark hair beneath their lips. How could two men so alike be so very different? Revulsion churned her stomach at the thought of father's war crimes, but she was quick to quell emotion the as soon as the taste of bile tinged her tongue.

Forcing herself to relinquish those dark thoughts, she began to step forward to narrow the space between them but stopped when she heard a high-pitched, very insistent warning growl. Delilah froze and blinked down to the origin of the noise; a young Mabari hound. Yet another emotion -surprise- was thrown into the already over-flowing pot.

"N-Nathaniel...?"

She was not afraid of the hound for herself, but for her child. Despite the famed intelligence of mabaris, she knew they zealously guarded those they bonded with and would not think twice to strike against anyone they deemed a threat. Unconsciously, the woman pressed little Nate to her bosom. The child gurgled sleepily, but did not wake.

"Who's this charming young friend of yours?"

All the 'how are you doing's and 'it's been a long time's were forgone in lieu of this unexpected addition to their reunion. And she hadn't even noticed the odd, musky smell about her brother yet.

This post has been edited by Delilah Howe on Apr 14 2012, 08:36 PM