02-12-2017, 02:22 PM
What Leliana said to him sank in so very slowly, hard to believe it, hard to accept that she could want him even after all she knew. And she didn't even know the half of it. He thought it would be enough to turn her away forever, but it wasn't. Not yet.
But he smelled him before he could continue.
His black eyes immediately hardened, gleamed like polished obsidian. His teeth clenched tight and nostrils flared as if the choking smoke of hell could come billowing out from within him. The hate wafted from him, sharpened every line of his body like eager blades as he slowly, slowly turned to the one man he never wanted to see again. The man that had hurt his Cerva's heart as he, her black colt and the very beat of her heart, stood at her side and watched the light dim in her eyes. As she buried her face in his crested mane and breathed him in for comfort to steady herself, and as he stood strong for her when she needed him most.
Dovev, said he, a lethal pop in the air, and his ears pinned back and teeth bared. He hated the soft way the man's name left Leliana's lips, Magnus, and he hated him for that too. That his name could sound so sweet from her precious lips as his own did.
Your daughter was looking for you.
And so quickly, intense distress blanketed the raging fire and brimstone as his black eyes fell to his baby. She had followed him across that treacherous land bridge on her own? She could have died, could have been swept away in the tide and he'd never have known it. He would have thought she slept so peacefully still, even now. A tear fell openly down his cheek and his head shook. His breath caught painfully in his throat. He could never leave her alone, would never leave her again. Never.
Distress turned to rage again as she pressed herself into Magnus, rubbed herself along him so blatantly like a feline in heat. And rage turned to heart-shattering pain, a slap in the face that she would so willingly touch a strange man but not him, not her father. Anyone but her own sire. His beautiful Atrani. How he ached for her to touch him that way, to seek his warmth on her own as he so eagerly sought hers.
He choked on that pain and jerked his eyes away, heart-bleeding tears flowing freely. Maybe he should leave, maybe that's what a good father would do. His head shook more and legs trembled, unable to breathe, unable to think through the suffering in his fragmented chest. It was as though shards of his own protective bone splintered within him and pierced his heart, betraying their guarded purpose and stabbing deep to kill him slowly.
He could only stand their mute, trying to work through these emotions slowly suffocating him, slowly squeezing the life from his lungs and causing his breaths to come short and ragged. When he could finally speak again, he lowered his head to her level, forced himself to look at his beautiful little heart. Atrani.. he croaked, a broken whisper as he tried to call her to him, tried to coax her from the warmth of his enemy. His heart was stabbed again at that, that she stood so comfortably in his arms, and he lost his breath as he waited with unabashed hope in his eyes.
But he smelled him before he could continue.
His black eyes immediately hardened, gleamed like polished obsidian. His teeth clenched tight and nostrils flared as if the choking smoke of hell could come billowing out from within him. The hate wafted from him, sharpened every line of his body like eager blades as he slowly, slowly turned to the one man he never wanted to see again. The man that had hurt his Cerva's heart as he, her black colt and the very beat of her heart, stood at her side and watched the light dim in her eyes. As she buried her face in his crested mane and breathed him in for comfort to steady herself, and as he stood strong for her when she needed him most.
Dovev, said he, a lethal pop in the air, and his ears pinned back and teeth bared. He hated the soft way the man's name left Leliana's lips, Magnus, and he hated him for that too. That his name could sound so sweet from her precious lips as his own did.
Your daughter was looking for you.
And so quickly, intense distress blanketed the raging fire and brimstone as his black eyes fell to his baby. She had followed him across that treacherous land bridge on her own? She could have died, could have been swept away in the tide and he'd never have known it. He would have thought she slept so peacefully still, even now. A tear fell openly down his cheek and his head shook. His breath caught painfully in his throat. He could never leave her alone, would never leave her again. Never.
Distress turned to rage again as she pressed herself into Magnus, rubbed herself along him so blatantly like a feline in heat. And rage turned to heart-shattering pain, a slap in the face that she would so willingly touch a strange man but not him, not her father. Anyone but her own sire. His beautiful Atrani. How he ached for her to touch him that way, to seek his warmth on her own as he so eagerly sought hers.
He choked on that pain and jerked his eyes away, heart-bleeding tears flowing freely. Maybe he should leave, maybe that's what a good father would do. His head shook more and legs trembled, unable to breathe, unable to think through the suffering in his fragmented chest. It was as though shards of his own protective bone splintered within him and pierced his heart, betraying their guarded purpose and stabbing deep to kill him slowly.
He could only stand their mute, trying to work through these emotions slowly suffocating him, slowly squeezing the life from his lungs and causing his breaths to come short and ragged. When he could finally speak again, he lowered his head to her level, forced himself to look at his beautiful little heart. Atrani.. he croaked, a broken whisper as he tried to call her to him, tried to coax her from the warmth of his enemy. His heart was stabbed again at that, that she stood so comfortably in his arms, and he lost his breath as he waited with unabashed hope in his eyes.
