run love, im the truth you're afraid of; any

[Dovev]

He was always moving.
Always pacing, always raging. Blood always roared through him with a fevered heat. Bottomless black eyes always glint like hard steel, burned with bitterness and fury. Wounds always covered him, bled to the ground at his feet. Trailed in his wake like a river of pain. Outward pain that went ignored.

Today he was still.
Frozen. Locked in place. Black eyes were flat, bland. Filled to the brim with darkness and yet so empty. Like his heart. It sat aching and cold in his chest. Loud, yet so quiet. When he looked out, the world was dimmer. Almost colorless. Quieter and yet still so loud. The inward pain could not be ignored.

No matter how hard he tried.

He swallowed. Finally let his eyes trail down to his feet. To the ground beneath. He let his stare settle there. the place she lay. He watched a memory. In his mind where only he could see it. Only he could know it, the image of a flowing crimson ocean. Waving, but still. Not blood at his feet, but something softer. Warmer. And russet.. like glittering chocolate diamonds. Valuable. Priceless.

He sank slowly, purposefully to the ground. Cold with absence. Not heated by moments stolen, tenderness forced without mercy. Without guilt. Without regret.
Without regret.

Black, sunken form stretched out on his side, bone digging uncomfortably into him. His blank face rested in the grass. Grass that had been weighted down by an angel as a demon pressed her to the ground, hovered over her. Flowers that had seen a time of controlled passion, a slow and hungry exploration taken without askance. Lips that trailed burning passes down a perfect throat, savored skin with unforgettable taste. He swallowed, closed his eyes. Let the memory play, watched it without emotion.

He didn't have to breathe to smell her. Her scent was long gone, but he knew it. He'd followed it. Knew where she lived, where she slept. Where she curled next to an ever-watchful guardian in silence. Where her wings would change and make him cry.
Where he would walk away. Where he would never exist.
Where his memory would slowly die.

Where hers would always stay safely locked away in his mind.
He had a trained focus, perhaps too trained, could push anything from his thoughts. But when that wall relaxed, she was there again. They all were. Zoryn, Diz. Cerva. Atrani.
And Leliana.

And sometimes he just had to slip away for a time. Had to remember the destruction he could cause. The pain that was deeper than any wound. Deeper than she could ever heal. Deeper than the driving agony of his bone erupting slowly out of him, as it did now, scorching him with unimaginable pain as blood spilled to the earth.
Outward pain. That went ignored.
Inward pain that never could.

He was destruction. He was the end of good things.

[leliana]

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

Some days, she convinced herself that she could no longer smell him. She convinced herself that he was fading from her memory, that with each breath she was burning him from her mind as if he had never taken up space there. She flew above the forest, wandered along the familiar curves of Tephra, and she could almost believe that he had never existed, or that he never existed to her. It was just a brief interlude in her life. She woke up and ignored the ache in her bones and piercing pain in her chest.

It was a lie though. Of course it was. Her wings still changed when she dreamt at night, still shifted into his likeness, still curled around her barrel with the memory of his weight. She still looked for his figure when she landed in the meadow, when she walked its borders. And it still hurt. With each breath, each memory, it scorched her insides, a silent pain that she bore silently. If she ignored it perhaps it would eventually go away.

So she almost did not believe when she saw him. She almost thought it was a mirage, and she took a stumbling step forward, breath catching her throat as she caught and righted herself. It was him. In the same spot that he had found her, spread out on his side, blood staining his coat, pooling around the base of ivory armor.

She made a small strangled sound but refused to step out from the crowd. She couldn't bear to look him in the eye and have it confirm everything that she knew, that he loved, and was loved, by others. That he had turned from her to return to his family. That the passion with which he had held her was temporary.

That she was temporary.

Anguished, she dropped her head down, chin against the mahogany of her chest, and pulled her crimson wings right around her. Her healing, however, had other plans. It responded to the metallic scent in the air, the coppery reminder of pain, and it unraveled from her chest. She did not stop it as it sought him out, moved through him fluidly, remembering all of the lines that drew him up, all of the familiar bruises and gashes. She healed him wordlessly, a final gift she lied to herself, as she collected the rope of her powers and coiled it back within her. She ignored the bruises that blossomed beneath her skin, the freshly opened wounds at being so near and yet so far from him.

For a moment, she lifted a feathered leg and then placed it down again, lifting her chin so that she could look at him one more time. Her face was cool, calm, a mask for the turmoil that raged within her. She pressed her lips together and then nodded, the breeze shifting the crimson coils of her forelock across her forehead.

Part of her hoped he would look up, see her standing there amongst the crowds as they milled around her. The other hoped that he would ignore it.

Maybe she could still get out of here in one piece.

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

[Dovev]

He breathed through the pain, let it bleed from him. Let it beat in tune to a steady pulse. Slow, weakened, but steady. The familiar chill against his skin, followed by the irritating itch as it dripped, told him it had spilled over again. His blood drained to the earth. A passerby might think he was dying, he thought absently. They would be mistaken. Maybe. Or could he die internally and yet still live on?

A familiar warmth trickled into him, a stream of the most soothing sensation, healing magic. Hers. He flinched violently, tightened and curled in on himself. Black skull burrowed against the soft dirt as if it could cradle him. Even as his mind wished it wasn't happening, was just a dream or an illusion, his body knew the truth and drew it further in hungrily. It gripped and pulled, stole more of her as greedily as he had. Filled himself, and still couldn't get enough. His face was pinched in a strained grimace, his body full and warm and whole, and he strangled a cry of agony.

Because it healed his body.
But broke his heart.

His thin sides heaved gulps of air as though he'd been put through torture, not healed. Not cured. Not cared for. But they were all cared for with her. He struggled to a half-rise, body trembling, leaning on an elbow with his head bowed to the ground. His breath stirred the dirt an inch from his nose in wild bursts, stringy black hair curtaining his face, and shoulders hunched. His pulse was no longer slow and weak.

He kept his eyes closed, afraid to look at her, afraid to see her. Afraid of what it would do to them. Was she glaring and hating him? Were her big, brown eyes pleading and needing? Did she weep as he wished to. It was best not to know. Best not to show her the brokenness that had consumed him, the fragile glass of his cold eyes. He was not what she needed, and never would be. He should not be selfish and look at her one last time, just because he wanted to.

He swallowed, and shuddered. He fought himself. Don't look. Just ignore her, let her walk away, he thought forcefully. But his was a selfish heart, and he wanted to see her again. Just a look, just a quick glance. That was all. needed more, just a little more.

His head shifted but a fraction, a subtle change, because he could feel where she was. He could sense her as clearly as his own heartbeat. He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't let her see, shouldn't let her know. He was destruction. And perhaps she deserved to see how damaging he was. Perhaps she deserved to know she was not alone in this as she slept with the image of him swaddled around her. He was glad that she slept.

Slowly, hesitantly, around the curve of his shoulder and through a gap in his hair, he opened harshly reddened eyes. Bloodshot and tired, so dry. His breath was labored as he held himself. So tired. So empty. So broken and laid bare for her. Sleepless. Not even the blackness would claim him anymore. Even the air burned them. They rolled back and he fell heavily back on his side with a sharp exhale.

There. It was done. Now she knew he was getting his payment for hurting her, for leaving her alone in the forest that day. For not coming to find her again -not when she was awake and aware. He was destruction. Destroying her, destroying everyone. Slowly erupting from within himself just as this bone armor was. Eating away at his own life. The damage he caused could never be healed by her magic.

But for that moment, he thought he could sleep.
He could see her again. Calm, stoic, any emotion shielded from prying eyes.
Good. Be strong. Leave me as I left you and never look back.

I know I can't ask you to stay
But I've stayed awake

[leliana]

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

His body bucked at the touch of her healing and for the first time, she felt guilt at use of it, felt ashamed for healing without asking. She shook her head, distressed at the sight of the pain she caused him, at the way he hungrily gulped for air, his body drinking in the support after her power curled away from him and then back into her chest. For a second, she tore her gaze from him and then outward into the crowd around them, the breeze rippling around her, shifting the thick crimson of her mane over the graceful curve of her neck, revealing the hidden dapples beneath its weight. One second—then two, then three.

With each breath, she fought for balance, fought for understanding.

Fought to think outside of herself.

When she looked back to him, he was glancing at her, just a little through the thin curtain of his black mane, his eye bloodshot. Her stomach twisted at the sight and she bit down on the inside of her cheek, and fought the moan in her throat. What had she done to him? What was she doing? When he flung down to the ground again, her heart constricted painfully in her throat and she took several steps forward against her own will, the movement unbidden and unchecked. She could not help but be pulled to him, the string in her chest inexplicably tied to him. It was like gravity, and she was helpless against it.

She took one step, and then another, moving toward him slowly, the crowd parting and moving around her without thought. She should leave. She had already folded herself into his life unbidden today, and here she was furthering it—here she was selfishly stepping toward him, breathing in the scent that grew more potent with each step. Her nostrils flared, fluttered, as the scent of him hit her, her chest expanding to drink it in, to memorize it. If this was to be the last time she saw him, she wanted to remember it.

She came up to his side, steady despite the way she shook internally, her hazel eyes expressive as she looked down upon him. “Dovev,” his name was still so sweet in her mouth—and it was difficult to not repeat it. It took everything within her to not murmur it again, to not continue saying it, the sound so natural. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat, taking a steadying breath. “I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

How could she not be?

He had made his decision; he had a family. And here she was, impeding upon his privacy. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her head dropped slightly, hovering over his cheek, the curve of bone armor; she could practically taste the closeness, feel the heat of him radiating up toward her. For a second, a brief and tantalizingly real moment, she considered closing it. She considered dropping her mouth those few inches to brush against his cheek, to linger against his jaw, taste the salt of his flesh.

But even in those stolen moments, those rare moments where he had held her with such passion, he had not wanted her to touch him. And now—well, now, he had his true love. He was never hers to touch, and that certainly didn’t change now. So she withdrew her breath no longer warming his cheek as she took a hesitant step back, fighting tirelessly to keep the pain restrained, to not burden him with the ache of it as it thrashed in her chest. “I will leave. I promise. I won’t ever bother you again.”

It would be the hardest thing she had ever done, but if it was what he wanted, she would do it.

His happiness meant more than her agony. It always had.

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

[Dovev]

His eyes may have been dead and dry, bloodshot. But inside he was not empty. Inside he was raw. A sandpaper scrub to his bleeding heart, an acid to the wound, a burning blight lining every grisly organ in choking pain. Her healing only hurt it further, only drove it home just how bad he was broken; that even her magic could not fix him. She could not cure a shattered soul.

Dovev, her voice alone made his tension begin to melt away whether he wanted it to or not. She was always the one to break their silence. He was always the one to cling to it. Especially here, where he’d left her with but one simple word. And so much heat.

He held still, kept his eyes closed as she approached carefully closer. Part of him wished she’d just leave, just forget about him. Let him be nothing but a strange memory of tender moments. But there was of course another part that begged her closer and closer still, to hold him, to care. To forget everything that happened but their wonderful memories of each other. Relive their time together. Even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. I am so sorry, she said. Why the hell was she apologizing? He had done this. It was all his fault. Everything.

He never should have left Cerva. He never should have been so greedy as to need to protect her and keep her wholly to himself, to be able to fight off any others if he needed to. He should have known she wouldn’t understand, that he’d just be another person to have abandoned her. He’d only wanted to keep her close. Forever. Now he was losing her. If she wasn’t already lost to him. Always, it had been them together. As a child to adulthood, all he’d ever known. He knew nothing else, had never considered anything else. Losing her ripped the foundation from beneath him, threw him from confident and sure to this -this broken and shattered shell. What was he without her?

Porcelain can be so sharp, so cutting.
Can be so fragile.

I just wanted to make sure you were okay.
Her muzzle drifted closer. He could sense it, could nearly feel her again. His eyes slid open, staring ahead at nothing. Waiting to see if she would fall further, make the connection. But after a few long moments, time-stopping breaths, she took a step back. His head turned up to her, black eyes burning with a challenge. A dare. Do it. See what happens. See what I become. Still, he held his silence.

This is the place he’d first found her. The place he’d had a life without Cerva, without the memory of her. The place he’d first learned.. He wasn’t sure what. Something good. Something to counter the darkness. Something he hadn’t stopped craving. Perhaps that was why he’d returned here, to try and feel it again. He was tempted to do it, to push everything else from his mind and fall back into that time. Fall back into her embrace.

I will leave. I promise. I won’t ever bother you again. She meant it. She was not like him, did not clutch so tight to what he wanted that he nearly strangled it in the process. Did not grip the breakable and fragile until they nearly shattered to pieces. His fear had always been his strength. Afraid to lose what mattered to him. It made him ruthless, powerful, merciless. Nothing would keep him from what he cared about, who he cared about. Maybe that’s what happened; he clutched Cerva too tightly. He’d set her down so gently, put her somewhere safe until he could come back for her again. But it was too high. She’d wobbled and fell, broke into a million pieces.

He wasn’t much of a fixer, was he? He was destruction. The end to good things.
It was only a matter of time before Leliana would be squeezed to death, too.

He struggled to sit up, eyes locked on her, burning and blazing and hot. He was too weakened today to do as he had then, to steal from her like an unbidden lover. This time she was the one standing, and he the one curled on the earth. He closed his eyes a moment, letting his cool eyelids soothe the sting in his sleepless eyes. So tired. His breath slowed as if he’d managed to fall asleep, but he couldn’t sleep anymore it seemed.

After a moment, he peered at her from behind half-lidded eyes. He was too exhausted to send her away, to think if he should or not. His chin jerked toward his shoulder, the movement sluggish, gesturing for her to join him. Hoping she might give him rest one last time before tomorrow took her away again. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, his breath still heavy and slow, and he waited to see if she would leave now. Or later.

[leliana]

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

This was, in many ways, her nightmares come true. This was a hurt she could not soothe, a wound she could not heal. This was something beyond her powers. Even if she worked until exhaustion, she would not be able to save him from this; she would not be able to hurt the torment that lay in the eyes. Peering at him, her hazel eyes soft and wide, she cannot decide what hurts worse. The pain he is in, visible in the tensed muscles and bruised depths, or the way that he stares at her with such heat, the challenge in the tip of his chin. There was no love, no passion here; just what she perceived as regret, as anger.

Her heart shattered in her chest, but she bit it back.

It was worse to see him in pain.

It was absolutely worse.

When he got to his knees, she watched silently, her healing uncoiling naturally as she focused on his weak motions. It began searching through him, almost as a reflex. She hunted for abrasions, infections, anything—but she could find nothing. She could not find a single source of pain and so the cooling tendrils of her power returned to her. She could not fix this; she could not help. The idea that she was so utterly useless before such pain undid her, and were she not trying to remain strong, she would have sunk to her knees. As it was, she remained upright, clinging to her calm, remaining steady as she needed to be.

It wasn’t until he motioned that she moved at all, her shoulder twitching slightly as she sought to interpret the signal. It didn’t make sense; not when she had felt the heat roll off him, the pain and fury simmering just below the surface of his motions. Still, she did not deny him—was unable to turn her back on him. She moved several steps forward and lowered herself gracefully, folding her crimson-dipped legs beneath her. She kept space between them, despite the way she ached to fold into his side, to press herself into him as if nothing had happened—as if she didn’t know he had a lover somewhere else waiting for him.

Of course, even if she could forget that, even if she could deny those internal protests, she could not get the image out of her head of his burning eyes, the hard edge to them. So she left space, feeling the heat that radiated off of him but not leaning into it, just breathing slowly, steadily. Her wings rustled at her side as if preparing to flare and then settle over his back but she stopped the motion, frowning slightly but then dropping her head.  She could not fix this, she thought. She could only make this worse.

So why was she still here?

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

[Dovev]

He was a fool. He knew it the most in the way she settled near but apart from him, keeping distance. He was an idiot to think they could go back, even for a moment. He had already destroyed this. Whatever it was. It was what he did, destroyed everything. He swallowed the pain of her distance, the lack of her touch. This was his life now. Emptiness and pain. Inside and out.

Her wings lifted -his eyes flickered- but she only resettled them around herself. Of course she did. Why would she do any different.

He rolled carefully to his side, his spine toward her, and exhaled a heavy sigh. He wasn't sure what he had been thinking. What had Zoryn told her in the forest? He couldn't even remember. Certainly enough that she should be demanding answers, or simply walking away and forgetting him. Instead, she healed him, she stayed, she lay near. How much more of her would he steal before he was satisfied? How much pain must she be in even now and burying it deeper than his own. If she really felt anything for him before, that is. He wasn't sure.

His neck stretched and he slid his head closer to her, pressing against her foreleg. If it was all he would get, he would take it. As he always did, take and steal from her. It was just barely a touch, but the rest of the tension eased and he sighed again.

He knew he couldn't stay here. He couldn't keep putting them through this. Whatever it was. And he needed sleep. He would have to claim it the only way he knew how anymore. Then retrieve his daughter, take her home and raise her. Alone. Cerva wasn't really coming, was she? Had she ever intended to? He smothered the thoughts, drowned them in darkness and pushed them away. First, sleep. Then, whatever came next.

With a weary groan, he dragged himself slowly to his feet, swayed with dizziness. His eyes closed as he waited for the world to steady beneath him. When he finally opened them again, he looked at her. Blank, empty, sad. What had he done to her? Why did she bother staying now? He didn't deserve any of this, and even she knew it. His muzzle fell towards her, but like her own movements earlier, he stopped before he could touch her.

This time, he didn't whisper Ischia. This time he didn't whisper anything. Left her without the tenderness, without the heat. Without a word. He only turned, taking stumbling steps away until his body woke up enough to walk again, his head hanging. It was time to seek the blackness.

Time to fight until he collapsed.