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

 

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

@[Dovev]