haunted by the ghost of you; vulgaris

[leliana]

I don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you

Before she knows it, she finds him—but he is not alone. With him is another stallion, older and carved from stone. She finds his eyes and is not surprised at all to see that they are the same shade as Vulgaris’. She is not surprised to know the shape of them set in his features and her face blossoms like a rose before him. There is sorrow beneath it like a river’s current, but it cannot stop the sheer joy at reunion.

The absolute, earth-shattering joy at these stolen moments.

“I am not dead,” she says quietly in affirmation as Vulgaris’ lips find her flesh. “But it is difficult to not feel as if I am.” After all, the world has taken so much from her. She has felt the blood of innocents on her hands. She lost Vulgaris. She has no idea where Dovev is. Magnus remains bloodied and bruised and refuses her help in accelerating the healing. Tephra remains coated in a heavy layer of ash and destruction.

If that is not death, what is?

But in this cocoon of silence and awe, she does not have to sink into the belly of her despair. She does not need to bathe in the waters of her failures. She is washed clean of them and she can turn to meet his gaze when he finally does look at her, when his smile wavers. “It was never about revenge,” she says quietly, but there is not admonishment in her voice. How could he understand what pierced her heart when he had been carved for war from the start? He had only known bloodshed and chaos on his tongue.

“I wanted,” she pauses, correcting herself gently, “I needed to make things right. It was an impossible calling in my blood. I couldn’t ignore it.” There is a soft laugh, broken on her lips as she leans to press her forehead into the strength of his neck, wondering at the way he feels the same and yet so different.

“And what did it bring me? Children were hurt. Innocents were killed. Families torn apart. My thirst for justice did more harm than had I simply let the injustices continue.” She feels the reality of it quake in her bones, a fear that it may rip her apart should she pause long enough to let it. But he is there and real and in this world, she does not have to feel the impossible sting of the dagger in her breast.

Another time.

Another time.

“Come back to me,” she pleas, finding the curve of his jaw and the velvet of his mouth.

“Please. Don’t leave me and our family alone. We need you.”

@[vulgaris]

giddy up boys let's get sad