[private] Leliana;

[leliana]

The day is quiet. Eerily so.

Vulgaris has scooped Adna up and taken her with him on one of his trips to another kingdom, around the border. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that her precious child, the little girl with the spitfire eyes and wicked grin, was safe, tucked in close to her fathers side and doing exactly what she loved best: adventuring.

Which left Leliana to the quiet in their absence.

To be truthful, she was grateful for it. She was grateful for the silence, the ability to rest, to store up energy. She was healing but she still tired quickly. That sickness she helped pull from Warrick still rattled slightly in her chest, causing her to cough when she slept. She was still thinner than usual, her cheekbones more prominent, the ribs more visible beneath the mahogany of her coat. It was subtle changes that clued one in to the exhaustion deep within her. But, still, she was feeling better.

Physically, at least.

Mentally, she was still reeling from their last encounter. Still had no idea what had happened. Why she had woken up to chaos, to the sight of the ground dissolving beneath Dovev and Vulgaris clearly worked up. To the sight of Heartfire trailing after the armored stallion. It had made her heart ache, the memory of the last time she had seen the blue mare, the visions she had thrust upon her, the chaos of that moment, the sweetness of the stolen time after. It had come rushing back and left her markedly off balance.

This time had been no different, and she still struggled to come to terms with it. Things had been made right with Vulgaris, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him what had transpired. She wasn’t sure she was ready to explain it or hear it.

Still, her heart leaps into her throat when she sees Dovev, and she quickly rises to her feet. He is wild eyed and frantic, and she takes a step forward, almost reaching for him before stopping herself. He wasn’t hers to hold. He never had been. Instinctually, her body responds to his nearness, her wings turning to the black and onyx of his boned armor and her healing sweeping through him. The golden light roots out the constant wounds, their placement so familiar she could map it out blindly. It feels good to exercise the muscle again and although it leaves a faint sheen on her neck, it doesn’t exhaust her. It just feels right.

At his words though, her mouth goes dry.

A mother?

She can only imagine that it’s one of the many women he loved, who loved him, and part of her recoils from the problem. She couldn’t bear to look them in the eye. She couldn’t bear to face the truth of it, the reminder that she wasn’t enough for him. That he had chosen others. But she also can’t turn from the hurt and so she lifts her solemn gaze to him, hazel eyes not flickering despite the turmoil that churns in her belly, the agony howling already at the prospect. Instead she just nods. “Take me to her.”

it started with a perfect kiss, then we could feel the poison set in