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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [private]  Leliana;
    #1
    dovev

    He was slick by the time he got to Loess, the sweat mixing into his open skin and stinging harshly, salt into his constant wounds. His black eyes were wide, alert, battening down a prickly panic as he raced across the lands from the forest to this kingdom. He couldn't let her die, and this was the only way he knew how to help. Find the only healer he knew how to track the quickest. He knew where she lived, had met her daughter. Had met her man.

    So he was in a hushed but heightened state, his nerves on edge, his breathing short from running and the tangle of fear inside him. When he found her, his Leliana, she was blissfully alone. No sign of her viper husband to stall this important rescue. Her child might be near, he figured, but he only had eyes for Leliana, settling them on her in a sudden softness that was so rare for him, this monster, this killing machine.

    "Leliana," he murmured, glancing around to make certain they weren't seen. Then he stepped in closer, stopped himself before he could reach out and nuzzle the tip of his face guard against her. He'd kissed her, he realized now, remembered now. He'd kissed her without realizing she was married. He wouldn't do that again, wouldn't touch her. He didn't deserve to. 

    His eyes fell a moment, but that wasn't important now, and he lifted them again to her. "I need your help. How are you feeling?" God, if she couldn't travel, couldn't do this, he didn't know what he'd do. He shouldn't have said he needed her help before asking her how she was feeling. He cursed himself silently for that. She was impossibly selfless and would likely tell him she could handle it and hope it was true. But this time, he tried not to care. Life was in the balance. Not his worthless life.

    "A mother is dying."
    And he left it at that.

    we're slaves to any semblance of touch

    Lord, we should quit but we love it too much


    #2

    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

    [Image: avatar-1975.gif]
    the heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity
    #3
    dovev

    God, even still not fully back to health, she was impossibly beautiful. He could see the line of her cheekbones, just barely sharper than they once were. She seemed thinner too, just slightly. It was all there so subtly. And he hated it. He shouldn't let her leave, and he almost turned away. He'd figure something else out.

    But, damn it.

    Her wings shifted to match him, and he cast his eyes away. God, that fucking hurt. His eyes closed with a soft breath as her healing swept through him, such a familiar friend, the healthiest he ever was. He was always left feeling so whole, so vibrant, invincible. So loved.

    Why did she do this to him.

    It must've been punishment, though. He forced his gaze back to her, stared at his likeness in her beautiful wings. A disgusting scourge she always seemed to make so gorgeous, how did she do that. He didn't think she'd done it on purpose but he stared anyway, let the hurt bury deep and remind him that he'd done right. He had. He had. He'd done right. This had been best for her. He'd taken care of her in the most painful way.

    "Take me to her," she said so damn firmly. She had a stubborn streak with that selfless nature, not that he figured many knew of it. He could argue with her all day but she'd just turn around and walk the way he'd come from, search for the fatal wounds herself. She would always do whatever it took to heal the hurt.

    There were so many hurts she could never heal.
    All the ones that he caused.

    He looked down at her wings again, memorized them again, held the ache so close to his heart. Then he turned and walked the way he'd come, a brisk pace but easy enough for her if she were still weak. He kept his attention on her as he stared ahead, watched vigilantly for any cues that she needed to rest.

    "Thank you," he murmured with a little tilt to his head, a little glance.
    Dizzy would be healed. And then she'd be happier without him too.
    Zoryn would take care of her and his babies. The ones before and this new one.

    we're slaves to any semblance of touch

    Lord, we should quit but we love it too much


    #4

    I've never loved a darker blue than the darkness I have known in you

    So much goes on behind those dark eyes. So much hurt and agony and guilt. So many things he bears himself because he is convinced no one else will be there to shoulder the burden with him, that no one will think he is worthy enough for their assistance—because in his mind he’s not. It causes her stomach to wrench, but she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t bother to try and dispute whatever is going through his mind. There is no point to it, she knows, and they’d be stuck for hours arguing while someone out there needs her help. So she just sighs, shaking her head as he turns to walk back the direction he came from.

    Taking a deep breath, she gathers her wings to her sides, cursing them for giving away so much of her inner thoughts and forcefully changing them to the familiar red dragon wings. The weight of them is heavy and comfortable, a reminder that she is not without her own internal strength.

    She is not something to be easily broken.

    Even if so many think she is.

    They walk in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of their own breathing, their own hooves hitting the ground steadily. Every once in a while, she sneaks a look at him from beneath the curtain of her red forelock and mane, her hazel eyes studying every line of his agitated body. She wants to ask him what happened. She wants to ask him where he’s been. She wants to ask him about his daughter, about the lost years between them—instead she just opens her mouth and closes it, crimson lips pressing together.

    It’s only when he thanks her that she tilts her head toward him, brows drawing together in confusion. “You don’t need to thank me for this, Dovev.” His name always hurts to say, but she says it anyway, letting the sting sink into her belly. Part of her wants to leave it at that, because that’s the truth. No one needs to thank her for healing, for giving back with the gift she has been given. It would be of the utmost selfishness for her to hoard it to herself, to not do what she could, but the truth was larger than just that.

    “I will always be here for you.”

    Her voice is low, quiet, and she searches his gaze for a moment before dropping it and turning back to the path that unwinds before them, letting the silence fill the chasm opening up cleanly across her chest.

    like fire weeping from a cedar tree, know that my love would burn with me

    [Image: avatar-1975.gif]
    the heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity




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