Run
Hawke walked in late to the memorial, in a pair of darks pants and a black shirt, a crow amongst the mourners in white. She settled into the back of the Chantry and ignored the stares and whispered words. The makeup had melted off as her skin had burned from the inside and refused to stick when she had frantically tried to cover the marks again. Bloodied knuckles and teeth cursed skin would heal but the pitying looks scraped at what was left of her soul.
After the service, everyone went to the Isherwood's for something to eat. Hawke stayed in the garden after one too many questions and looks. Eliza had taken one look at her and encased her in a hug before leaving her to the tree and pumpkins. She didn't look up when the gate clicked open, not until boots entered her vision. She glared at Stanton. "Go away."
He laughed. "Not until I get what I pay for. Three silvers is a more generous than anyone else will offer you." She snarled at him and he smiled. "Come on, Rosie, we all know you only get those marks from fucking and everyone knows you're a frigid bitch." His eyes gleamed. "Unless you like getting knocked around first? Can't say I'd mind."
She swung at him, cursing when he ducked and grabbed at her. He whispered in her ear as his hand slid down her body. "Come on, Rosie. Let's have some fun, be a good little girl and I might throw in an extra copper."
She threw her head back, her eyes darkening with the contact before he released her and she shoved herself away and spun on him. She looked about wildly and grabbed Eliza's gardening knife, brandishing it before her. "I am no whore."
He eyed the knife warily as blood seeped from his nose. "That's the second time you've bloodied me."
She snarled. "Then you should have learned the first time, the third time is a charm." He nodded and backed away as Mira was entering the garden. She gasped softly and ran towards Hawke who stuck the knife in front of her again. Mira stopped. She spat out her words. "Don't touch me."
Mira's face fell and tears welled into her eyes. "Rose."
"That's not my name!" Hawke roared. She took a deep breath, her whole body shaking as her family and the Isherwoods began flooding into the garden. She threw the knife back at the bench. "My name is Hawke. My father named me. He loved me." Mira flinched back from the look on Hawke's face, still backed away when it was turned on Leandra who stood still. "I'm no one's whore, I'm no one's trinket. And I'm leaving." She stormed from the garden, leaving a dark path as blood dripped from her hands again.
She threw herself into her loft and tossed open the trunk. She tossed aside the leathers she had outgrown and had hoped to replace in Denerim. She left them for Carver but she strapped her daggers and belt to her waist and grabbed her pack. She tossed a couple pouches of sovereigns in and two changes of clothes. She added her healing kit and camp kits, it was only half full. Most of their supplies had been lost or damaged when, she took a deep breath and slammed the lid shut grabbing her cloak. It was still warm enough to travel without the tent. She let herself out the window and down the edge of the house.
She was saddling up Red when David crept into the barn. He closed the door softly behind him, peering through the crack. "They are looking everywhere for you." She stayed silent. "I know you have to go, Hawke. But I'll miss you all the same." An ugly sob escaped her throat and he left the door to wrap his arms around her. "Where are you going? I'll tell them tonight."
"Denerim." She spoke into his chest. He nodded. "I hate them all, David. But I hate me more."
He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I think the sun shines out your ass." A laugh choked out of her. "Come on, let's get Red saddled and you gone." Between the two of them they had her ready in minutes, with Red impatiently chomping at the bit. David tossed her up into the saddle. "Did you grab something to eat?" She shook her head. He sighed, leaning his forehead against her knee. "Don't die of hunger out there. You can't write me then." He looked up at her, his brown eyes burning into her blue eyes. "And you will write?"
She laid her fingers gently against his cheek. "I will write you. I promise."
He nodded and opened the back door of the barn. "What should I tell Mira?"
Hawke's face hardened. "Tell her whatever you fucking want."
He gave her a wry grin. "You may not like that when you hear it, trouble." He smoothed a hand down Red's neck. "Take good care of her." He gave the horse a slap on the rear and sent him galloping from the stable and towards the road. He watched until Hawke was out sight and knew she never looked back as she fled Lothering.