I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

 

Their encounter had been brief, intense, confusing.  

He had pressed sweet emotions into her chest and then left as abruptly as he had showed up. At first, she had been puzzled, her brow furrowing beneath the splash of crimson forelock. Then she had been sad, her chest aching and open with his absence—a reaction that had surprised her. Finally, she grew curious, the name he had whispered in the velvet against her mouth repeating steadily, thrumming along her pulse.

Ischia. Ischia. Ischia.

It was a name she had heard before, a name that had previously melted amongst all the others. A name that now emerged from them and took up solitary space within her mind, her thoughts revolving and often returning toward it. To a land she had never visited, a boy she did not know. A boy who had wept blood from open wounds, one who had wicked armor piercing his flesh, one who had left such delicate soft kisses down her throat and then tempting bites—as if he wanted more, as if he known what that meant.

She still did not comprehend why her, why he had cradled her when she slept, why he had not left when she awoke. She did not burn with the same fire he did, that same intensity. She did not match him in his feverish touches, did not open up beneath them like a flower bloomed. Were they elements, he would be fire, and she water. Where he consumed, she soothed. She did not rage like an open ocean or pound waves upon the cresting cliffs; instead, she was large, still bodies—her depths unexplored, untouched.

For days, Leliana did her best to put him out of mind. Focusing herself on her sister, on those she passed with aches in their joints and pain radiating throughout their body. She turned herself single-mindedly to the task, appreciating the exhaustion it brought at the end of the day when she returned to sleep, nestled against her sister. But still—she thought of him, dreamt of him, wondered about him during the day.

Until, finally, she decided to search for him.

It was night when she left, standing upon the edge of Tephra, the sky illuminated by the faint, dull glow of the magma seeping from the volcano’s ridge. Silently, she unfurled her wings, letting them reach to their full width, watching with quiet appreciation as they shifted from the wings of an eagle to her favored dragon wings, the leather copper and ruby, melding seamlessly from one hue to another. They were strong, tireless, and with minimal effort, they lifted her into the sky, carrying her over the crashing waves.

The journey was not long, but still, she felt its length, Leliana intermittently gliding through the cloudless night sky and racing forward, feathered feet skimming the edges of the white caps. By the time that she landed on Ischia’s coast, her legs were splattered with salt water, the crimson hair dripping and clinging to her slender cannon bones. She glanced toward them, smiling as she curled her wings into her side, the harsher form melting into something softer, as black as the color she remembered him being.

For a moment, she considered calling him, lifting her elegant head in preparation…but her voice caught in her throat. She didn’t know if he wanted her here, if he ever intended for him to follow him. So instead, she tucked her nose into her chest, mane curtaining out to the side. If it was meant to be, if any of this meant anything, he would find her. She remained silent, the hazel of her eye tracing the tide as it washed up around her, the glow of Tephra’s magma replaced by the tiny blue creatures nestled in the sand.

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow

I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

She felt him before she saw him.

Something stirred in her, primal and deep, something that caused her to lift her head, crimson-dipped nose gently testing the air, nostrils flaring to drink him in. It was like the first time she had found him and because of it, she almost missed the coppery scent that permeated the air, the bite of it. When she saw him, standing near the edge of the shadows of the jungles and looming branches, her pulse jumped in her throat and her thick lashes fluttered. “Oh,” she cried softly, voice catching as she took in his wounds.

Without thinking, her magic clawed from her chest and reached forward, desperate as it found its way through him. She closed her eyes against the force of it and gave herself over to the power of it, letting her mind move through his body—finding the aches, the bruises, the deep wounds. Her lips parted on a shuddering exhale at the extent of the damage and although the healing hesitated, she drove it on, pulling together the flesh that gaped apart, pressing the bruises from him, once again, staunching the bleeding.

It was exhaustive and by the time that she was done, she swayed a little on her feet, taking a stumbling step forward and then catching herself. While a part of her, the healing was still new, and she had to wonder if she was capable of holding it or if it was like the sun. Perhaps one day she would go blind from trying. She could feel the moments, like now, when she overexerted herself and the fatigue set in as deep as her marrow, reminding herself, always reminding herself, that she was a conduit—not the source of it.

Her eyes fluttered open again, the bruise of exhaustion clear in their lovely depths, but she smiled, red velvet curling softly, shyly in the corners. “That should feel better,” she echoed, the same words from the meadow escaping her, although this time, her mouth was not against his cheek and he was not pressed into her side. This time, he stood yards (eons) apart; despite the pull in her chest, she hesitated to move closer to him. Instead, she ruffled her wings by her side, the onyx of them turning first a brilliant shade of emerald, matching the jungle canopy behind him, and then turning the same shade as the blue creatures that glowed softly around her, their light illuminating the beach as the waves rolled continually upward.

She glanced downward, brow creasing with a frown, as she watched the water lapping around her ankles and then looked up to him through her lashes. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure why she had come. He had given her no inclination that he expected her to follow him; he had never even told her his name. She has simply followed him, as the sun follows the moon, hopeless against the pull of his gravity. She had no idea of knowing the others who laid claim to his heart, both the innocence that lay trapped within it and the sin that roiled; she had no way of knowing what curse erupted bone from flesh, gifting him with such tragic power. She simply knew that when he looked at her, when she saw the darkness in his eyes, she felt compelled to follow, to soothe, to press her magic into his chest.

Caught between her need and her fear, she remained rooted, the only movement coming from the salted breeze rolling in off the ocean, lifting her mane and exposing the dappled arch of her neck.

Finally, she whispered, letting that same breeze carry her voice to him—

“I had to see you again.”

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow

I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

“Why?”

He question hung in the air between the, soft and unassuming, her fatigued eyes tracing the now almost familiar lines of his body, relief clear in the way he stood. She had not asked why he bled every time that she saw him, why lacerations adorned his body, contusions blossoming beneath the bone and flesh. She did not demand answers from him, recognized that she was unlikely to receive them. Instead, she just let a small frown knit her brown, red lips pressing together in concern. What hurt him so? Who enjoyed it?

At his command, she could not help the small smile that tugged at her mouth, weary as it was. “You mean ‘come please,’” She was not used to being ordered around, bending like a young sapling to the words of others; she was not raised to it. In truth, she was hardly raised at all, save the watchful eye and guidance of Magnus—but he had not been charged with her daily upbringing, just her protection. So she had grown wild and free beneath the vast Tephra sky, learning her way and carving her destiny out next to Exist.

Still, she could not deny the tug in her chest—the need to follow him.

So, despite her initial reluctance, she stepped forward, bringing herself out of the cool, lapping water of the tide, wings falling downward so that the edges of them could trace the sand as she walked. Her eyes did not leave him, questions flickering in their depth alongside the concern, but she acquiesced to his request. She walked silently behind him, wings dissolving to familiar copper, the metal glinting beneath the silver, watery light of the moon, the weight of them reassuring as the hard edges pressed to her side.

When they reached his home, she came to a stop, studying it. It was beautiful; the green of it, the moss that crawled down, the cool floor. She could see why he had chosen it. But still—that wasn’t what drew her eye. Instead, she focused on the solitary nature of the place, how he’d chosen upon a spot that was so far removed from where others may roam, as if purposefully shielding himself from potential company.

“It’s lovely,” she commented in her voice of fog, dipping her fatigued head in acknowledgment of what he showed her. And then, because she could not help herself, she followed up, voice softer, reaching out to him as quietly as her healing had. “But it must get very lonely out here.” She ached to reach out and touch him, to bring relief with a brush of muzzle or to bring herself to cheek to cheek, but she resisted the urge, folding it back into herself. It was unlike her to deny her instincts, but she felt the distance between them almost physically and instead, she dipped her head shyly, exhaling quietly into the silent night air.

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow

I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

She made a soft, strangled noise when he crossed to her, when he crushed their bodies together.

She closed her amber eyes, drinking in him, leaning into his touch as he pressed his forehead to hers. He was real, she thought; he was real, and whole, and alive--not some dream she had imagined. At his words, she felt her heart contract in her chest, youthful emotions swelling in her, emotions that did not feel youthful at all. "I missed you," she said quietly, knowing it was not exactly what he had said.

"I'm not sure how," her voice trailed off and she leaned back ever so slightly so that she could look him in the eye. "I barely know you," a half-laugh, soft and fleeting. "I don't even know your name." None of that mattered. She had missed him. Missed the weight of him, the urgency that simmered beneath the surface--the bruises she could not heal, the aches in him she could not soothe. There was so much pain trapped in him, so much that she could not comprehend or understand or fix.

"But none of that matters," her nose hesitantly reached forward to press against his cheek.

"Because I still missed you."

She shivered in response to his touch but didn't move away, doe eyes trailing his movements, the deliberate motions of them. Initially, she hesitated at his request, thinking of Exist, of Tephra, of those who may look for her tonight, but when he amended it, she melted, simply dipping her head. "Yes." Even now, she could feel the exhaustion branching throughout her, the tendrils of it wrapping around the dull ache of her very bones, the fatigue only counteracted by the thrill of being near him.

"I will stay with you tonight."

Emboldened, she took another step forward, her narrow chest meeting the width of his own, pressing against him as she wound around him, her cheek coming to rest upon the armored expanse of his back. For several moments, she stood like that, leaning against him for support, for warmth, for things she could not name but somehow knew that she needed. She lifted her head to begin tracing the harsh lines of his back, the areas where sunken flesh belied the strength and power underneath.

Without thinking, her wings shifted again, turning from down into black leather, wicked bones protruding, the edges dulled against him but the ivory of them unmistakable. They wrapped around her barrel, edges flickering as if mirroring her own hesitation before they transformed into the wings of a swan, the edges dipped in black and gold. She closed her eyes, feeling her pulse race as her mouth traced unrecognizable patterns into the flesh she could reach, skimming over the bone.

Closing her eyes, she paused, her voice lost as she whispered into him.

"Is this a dream?"

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow

I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

She could live a hundred nights and not feel the way she did now.

Life thrilled through her, raced through her veins, and she focused on steadying her breath, on the feel of him beneath her lips, the curve of a body both powerful and thin, warped and wicked. He was unlike any she had ever met before, anyone she would ever meet again. The torment that flashed behind his eyes fascinated her, but it was the control he shakily held that made her stay; the way he battled his demons, brought them to heel. She could tell it took effort, strain, could feel the way that he practically shook with the exhaustion of trying, but he did it. He fought them.

He beckoned and she followed, not altogether a lamb to the slaughter, but wordlessly, looking up at him through her lashes. She was wading into water deeper than she knew, riptides looming. Soon, she would be pulled into the undertow; soon, she would be gasping for air. But for now, all she could think about was the calming waters of him as they rose around her, as she sank her body into his embrace. In over her head, but she didn't care. He was too much for her, but she didn't think of it.

Instead, she handed herself over to the incessant pounding of her heart, her pulse thrumming in her throat as the darkness enveloped them, as she felt the quickening of his breath. She reached over, burying her face into the thickness of his mane, letting it engulf her senses, the scent of him thick and tangible, taking a hold of her and rooting in her belly. She would think of this and think of it often; she would carry this with her, long for it, ache for the feeling that now spread through her.

At his name, her smile grew softly, curling the edges of her lips, and she laughed, the sound low and easy and kind. Playfully, she nipped at her neck, finding a spot between the curves of the armor. But it died as she let the name cement in her memory. "Dovev," she repeated slowly, tasting the syllables for the first time, finding them to her liking. "Dovev," a second time for good measure. She let her mouth linger on his flesh, breath rolling softly over it. "I like your name very much."

Innocence radiated off of her as the silence grew between them momentarily, and she busied herself with the sweep of his body before her, the closeness of them, the isolation.

"Why did you find me that day?"

Not accusatory, but curious--the answer all of a sudden crushingly important.

Because she had to know. She had to know why they met.

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow