it's still my heart to sell; dovev

[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

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