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]

[Dovev]

Pain lanced through him with every step. He didn't show it save for the slight stiffness in his stride and the bitterness in his eyes, riddled with more wounds than simply his shrapnel of bone. Skin hung loosely from a deep bite at his neck, coppery blood pouring freely. Various unseen bruises tendered his black hide, some ripped open from too-successful hits. It was a hard lesson learned today. His focus had slipped, he'd mouthed off. Because he never seemed to learn to shut the hell up. Neither did his roaming mind.

Even now her face haunted him. Focus.

Ever since Ashley had returned from the forest with that pathetic lump of skin, he'd been more and more brutal in their bouts. His enemy was out of his reach, and so Dovev became him. It took every ounce of strength, every wit of knowledge, to stay alive. Ashley was a hard man, and killing a failed student probably wasn't beneath him. It would be Dovev's own fault for slipping up. He would be his own demise.

This was why he had no memory of Before.
He couldn't afford to.

Dragon's wings in the sky caught his attention, and he easily angled toward the treeline where they sank out of view. Sabrael would have news on Ashley's little pet, and how soon he might give up his vicious torture. It was about-damn-time he released it on his true enemy instead. Surely the damn girl should be healed by now.

He weaved steadily through the dense jungle of the island, mindful not to bang himself up further. He needed as much of this to heal as he could before tomorrow. When it would begin again. His back left gave out beneath his weight and he stumbled forward awkwardly, breaking through the trees to the beach with a curse under his breath.

But it was not Sabrael, the handsome Ischian dragon-prince, who stood before him. Someone far more beautiful, more valuable than even a prince. He stared dumbly at her, not entirely convinced he wasn't imagining this. It would not be surprising, for how often she crept into his thoughts. For how often he could swear he felt her folded up next to him as he slept, as though she'd flown in at night just to hold him again. He'd never rested so soundly.

He could believe it was his mind giving him a fantastic illusion, except that she'd always had angel-white wings, and now they were the richest black. They still looked just as soft though..

Leliana.. he said in a slow breath, barely audible even to his own ears. Again, he felt vulnerable and laid bare before her, salty sea breeze stinging his open wounds. This was real, wasn't it? There should be angry males coming at him, shouldn't there? But she stood alone, a solitary vision of the only things he could remember. Such amazing things. That he'd stolen from her.

But she'd come anyway. She'd found him.

Was this a good meeting, or a bad meeting? Had she learned to hate him? He could only stand and stare, as though waiting for her to pass judgement on him, all thoughts of finding Sabrael lost. All thoughts of anything else, lost. His heart raced in uncertainty as he maintained a distance between them, and he felt more naked than he thought he ever had before. She was so right. So bad for him.

Ashley's going to kill me.

[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 felt him before she saw him.

Something stirred in her, primal and deep, something that caused her to lift her head, crimson-dipped nose gently testing the air, nostrils flaring to drink him in. It was like the first time she had found him and because of it, she almost missed the coppery scent that permeated the air, the bite of it. When she saw him, standing near the edge of the shadows of the jungles and looming branches, her pulse jumped in her throat and her thick lashes fluttered. “Oh,” she cried softly, voice catching as she took in his wounds.

Without thinking, her magic clawed from her chest and reached forward, desperate as it found its way through him. She closed her eyes against the force of it and gave herself over to the power of it, letting her mind move through his body—finding the aches, the bruises, the deep wounds. Her lips parted on a shuddering exhale at the extent of the damage and although the healing hesitated, she drove it on, pulling together the flesh that gaped apart, pressing the bruises from him, once again, staunching the bleeding.

It was exhaustive and by the time that she was done, she swayed a little on her feet, taking a stumbling step forward and then catching herself. While a part of her, the healing was still new, and she had to wonder if she was capable of holding it or if it was like the sun. Perhaps one day she would go blind from trying. She could feel the moments, like now, when she overexerted herself and the fatigue set in as deep as her marrow, reminding herself, always reminding herself, that she was a conduit—not the source of it.

Her eyes fluttered open again, the bruise of exhaustion clear in their lovely depths, but she smiled, red velvet curling softly, shyly in the corners. “That should feel better,” she echoed, the same words from the meadow escaping her, although this time, her mouth was not against his cheek and he was not pressed into her side. This time, he stood yards (eons) apart; despite the pull in her chest, she hesitated to move closer to him. Instead, she ruffled her wings by her side, the onyx of them turning first a brilliant shade of emerald, matching the jungle canopy behind him, and then turning the same shade as the blue creatures that glowed softly around her, their light illuminating the beach as the waves rolled continually upward.

She glanced downward, brow creasing with a frown, as she watched the water lapping around her ankles and then looked up to him through her lashes. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure why she had come. He had given her no inclination that he expected her to follow him; he had never even told her his name. She has simply followed him, as the sun follows the moon, hopeless against the pull of his gravity. She had no idea of knowing the others who laid claim to his heart, both the innocence that lay trapped within it and the sin that roiled; she had no way of knowing what curse erupted bone from flesh, gifting him with such tragic power. She simply knew that when he looked at her, when she saw the darkness in his eyes, she felt compelled to follow, to soothe, to press her magic into his chest.

Caught between her need and her fear, she remained rooted, the only movement coming from the salted breeze rolling in off the ocean, lifting her mane and exposing the dappled arch of her neck.

Finally, she whispered, letting that same breeze carry her voice to him—

“I had to see you again.”

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

[Dovev]

He had meant to stop her, but the rebuff died in his throat the moment her magic touched him. His body had other plans and opened eagerly to it, welcomed the soothing flow of warmth that made him want to sleep. So peaceful. So quiet. He sighed into it, knowing he was going to regret this, but not strong enough to give a damn just then. Tautness and strain were massaged away, tender bruises were cooled and injuries were cured. Physical relief, ever out of his grasp, in moments became a dear friend to him.

Ashley was not going to like someone healing him; his lesson so easily washed away and replaced with peace and comfort. But he wouldn't tell her tomorrow would be worse for it. Tonight, he would selfishly enjoy the respite.

You shouldn't have done that, he said quietly, his voice surprisingly smooth for a man of such sharp edges and sunken form, gory shards of bone. But it was not for the magician's wrath that brought it from him as he stepped forward. She'd exhausted herself with it, stumbled weakly. The fatigue was in the fog of her russet eyes when she met his, cold heart answering with a pang of concern.

Colors danced in her wave of uncertainty. Her wings ruffled and resettled from black to vibrant green to nearly glowing blue like those strange things on their coast. A hint of amusement hid in the corner of his mouth. Had she any control over her changes? He realized then that it had been her and not the dragon-prince that he'd seen, her chameleon wings. Good. Maybe no one was around to see her then. Better that it wasn't Sabrael after all; he wasn't too inclined to see her throw herself at the handsome man's feet like every other female that lays eyes on him -the prince, meanwhile, entirely oblivious to it. Idiot.

"I had to see you again."
Barely heard, a caressing whisper that only further soothed him. So she was not angry then. That was both confusing, and relieving. He couldn't deny the thrill that sang through his veins, the pleasure and surprise that she might want to see him again. Especially after his blatant theft of tender moments. He never had visitors before. He only had Ashley; mentor, master, and perhaps a shadow of a father-figure in some way.

He knew he should send her away. He never should have told her where to find him, but he suddenly didn't want to see her leave. And she was so weary, besides. And he was so very selfish. The magician would learn of her presence regardless, so he would enjoy it while he had it and damn the consequences.

Come, he commanded flatly, and turned to walk further down the beach a little ways, expecting her to follow. My home is near. He'd been headed there when he spotted her, anyways, and he couldn't very well have her here in the open for anyone to stumble upon. For tonight, at least, she was his.

Home was a deep crevice carved out of a rock formation; the magician's work for his only student. Moss grew all across and ivy hung down loosely over the entrance like bars of a cage. One of the many springs splattered across Ischia trickled a ways before it -how many times had it washed his blood out to sea? And so within the darkness, the ground was not stained and drenched in his blood, but was surprisingly clean and damp.

He paused before it and looked around, trying to see it from new eyes. It certainly wasn't breathtaking, but he supposed it could be worse. It was.. quaint. Solitary. He turned back to her to see what she thought. Home, he declared with a shrug.

[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

“Why?”

He question hung in the air between the, soft and unassuming, her fatigued eyes tracing the now almost familiar lines of his body, relief clear in the way he stood. She had not asked why he bled every time that she saw him, why lacerations adorned his body, contusions blossoming beneath the bone and flesh. She did not demand answers from him, recognized that she was unlikely to receive them. Instead, she just let a small frown knit her brown, red lips pressing together in concern. What hurt him so? Who enjoyed it?

At his command, she could not help the small smile that tugged at her mouth, weary as it was. “You mean ‘come please,’” She was not used to being ordered around, bending like a young sapling to the words of others; she was not raised to it. In truth, she was hardly raised at all, save the watchful eye and guidance of Magnus—but he had not been charged with her daily upbringing, just her protection. So she had grown wild and free beneath the vast Tephra sky, learning her way and carving her destiny out next to Exist.

Still, she could not deny the tug in her chest—the need to follow him.

So, despite her initial reluctance, she stepped forward, bringing herself out of the cool, lapping water of the tide, wings falling downward so that the edges of them could trace the sand as she walked. Her eyes did not leave him, questions flickering in their depth alongside the concern, but she acquiesced to his request. She walked silently behind him, wings dissolving to familiar copper, the metal glinting beneath the silver, watery light of the moon, the weight of them reassuring as the hard edges pressed to her side.

When they reached his home, she came to a stop, studying it. It was beautiful; the green of it, the moss that crawled down, the cool floor. She could see why he had chosen it. But still—that wasn’t what drew her eye. Instead, she focused on the solitary nature of the place, how he’d chosen upon a spot that was so far removed from where others may roam, as if purposefully shielding himself from potential company.

“It’s lovely,” she commented in her voice of fog, dipping her fatigued head in acknowledgment of what he showed her. And then, because she could not help herself, she followed up, voice softer, reaching out to him as quietly as her healing had. “But it must get very lonely out here.” She ached to reach out and touch him, to bring relief with a brush of muzzle or to bring herself to cheek to cheek, but she resisted the urge, folding it back into herself. It was unlike her to deny her instincts, but she felt the distance between them almost physically and instead, she dipped her head shyly, exhaling quietly into the silent night air.

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

[Dovev]

He ignored her question. Ignored, too, her amendment to his command, a grin spreading despite himself. He did note to be more polite the next time, though. It wasn't something he was used to out here; practically breathing hard work and labor. Not exactly the most social way of life. And he did tend to keep to himself, his secluded home a testament to that.

When they stopped, he was mesmerized by her soft eyes as she looked around, studied this place that he slept. That was what a home was, wasn't it? Where he slept when he was finally given the freedom to. The solid darkness within called to him, and he realized how tired he was even after being healed. Or maybe because of it. As though without the aches and pains his body could now demand rest loud enough for him to hear it. She was drained too, the magic had pulled the brightness from her eyes and weighed her feet, her graceful shoulders slumping just the slightest bit.

"It's lovely. But it must get very lonely out here."
He'd forgotten how calming her voice was, how smooth and warm. His head tilted a little as he studied her, reflecting on what she'd said. Lonely. No, he supposed he hadn't known what lonely was until he left her. Now the emptiness was blinding, the cool air too chilling on his bare side. He was all-too aware of the gaping lack against his skin, in his life. Things he knew he'd just have to accept and move on. But those were burdens for tomorrow and the days -weeks, months- after. Tonight, he could pretend there was no tomorrow.

He didn't respond, but his eyes softened as he finally ripped apart that unseen wall he'd put between them and crossed to her purposefully. He held her gaze close, and echoed a fragment of their time together, tentatively placing his forehead to hers. A quiet sigh passed through a faint smile, remembering such wonderful details of that day, his eyes closing and tension further melting. He'd forgotten how much he needed this. Needed her.

I missed this. Their closeness, the sight of her, the feel of her. All of it.

He moved carefully forward, dark mouth passing over her neck experimentally, seeing if she would again accept his tender attention. You're tired, he whispered into her rich, mahogany skin. Stay a while with me? Even he could hear the underlying plea in it. How badly he wanted to cradle her in that darkness of his den. More than anything, he hoped she'd let him, as he backed away slowly. He just needed more, that was all.

Just a little more.

Please, stay, he amended softly.

[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

[Dovev]

He had always been controlling, even forceful, and so he couldn't say if he would have let her leave had she declined. He'd like to think so, but his was such a dark and selfish heart. She was here for a reason, wasn't she? She had come alone, not with a guardian or mob of brothers. She had come for more, and he intended to give it. He intended to take it.

On that day, their first day, she had tolerated his touch. Accepted it. Now as he pressed to her, she returned it with her own embrace. He tensed in surprise, not expecting it despite having wanted it so badly. He stayed that way, locked tight in place, even as she told him she missed him. They barely knew each other, but she'd missed him. His gaze slipped away when she said she still didn't know his name. He still didn't want her to know it, hear the darkness of it.

"But none of that matters," she touched his cheek and his eyes slid closed. "Because I still missed you."

Her words were powerful, plunging deep within him to seed new emotions he didn't have names for. Didn't understand. And she didn't even know him, not truly. He hoped she never would. He kept his eyes closed, guarding it from her. There was only so much she would be able to accept before turning away from him forever. And he wasn't ready for that. He still needed her.

His heart soared when she accepted his offer to stay, his plea to stay with him. Just for a while, maybe not even the full night. Yes, with he, the dark and foul. The wicked and vicious. But he wasn't that to her. He was someone else entirely for her. How long could he play this ruse that felt so damn real? She changed him, subdued him. He'd pushed himself on her before, and now he was asking. Begging. What had she done to him?

She moved closer, breast pressing to his, curling her head to rest on his spine. He breathed slow, though his heartbeat quickened. She held him that way, and slowly the tension began melting from him again. He still felt uneasy, unsure of what this was becoming. What it all meant.

Then she was lining his bony back, her wings shifting again to match him. He shook his head but his voice was lost behind the lump in his throat. She shouldn't wear his grotesque disfigurement. She was beautiful. She deserved better. But it only held briefly, before changing again. He still doubted if she could control it, so he said nothing.

Then -oh, God, then- her perfect lips drew patterns in his black coat, sweeping so sweetly across his flesh in a trail of fire. He inhaled a quiet gasp of pleasure, head ducking as if that could hide it, skin twitching beneath her touch. No, she definitely had not returned his attention this way before. He could barely breathe. His heart hammered against him.

"Is this a dream?"
He pulled out of her touch, backing up to push his cheek to hers.
If it is, never wake me.
Tenderly, he kissed her cheek, coaxed her further into the darkness of home as he backed up slowly. Into the privacy, the safety, the place that had always been just him alone. But now would have her too, together.

Come, Leliana, he whispered, retreating further, bringing her further. Stay with me. She had already said she would, but he just needed to speak. Let her hear the want deepening his voice with need. Let her know how badly he needed her to stay. By the time they were submerged in the dark, dancing ambient light reflecting over them like a weakened moon, his breaths were shallow. Quick. Aching.

He stepped into her chest again, hugging her close as they had done just moments before. He only held her, trying to control his breathing, calm the wild storm brewing within him. His heart raced against her skin. He swallowed, body taut once again. He could control this, he would control it. His dark face turned, and he whispered into her hair.

Dovev.. my name is 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 could live a hundred nights and not feel the way she did now.

Life thrilled through her, raced through her veins, and she focused on steadying her breath, on the feel of him beneath her lips, the curve of a body both powerful and thin, warped and wicked. He was unlike any she had ever met before, anyone she would ever meet again. The torment that flashed behind his eyes fascinated her, but it was the control he shakily held that made her stay; the way he battled his demons, brought them to heel. She could tell it took effort, strain, could feel the way that he practically shook with the exhaustion of trying, but he did it. He fought them.

He beckoned and she followed, not altogether a lamb to the slaughter, but wordlessly, looking up at him through her lashes. She was wading into water deeper than she knew, riptides looming. Soon, she would be pulled into the undertow; soon, she would be gasping for air. But for now, all she could think about was the calming waters of him as they rose around her, as she sank her body into his embrace. In over her head, but she didn't care. He was too much for her, but she didn't think of it.

Instead, she handed herself over to the incessant pounding of her heart, her pulse thrumming in her throat as the darkness enveloped them, as she felt the quickening of his breath. She reached over, burying her face into the thickness of his mane, letting it engulf her senses, the scent of him thick and tangible, taking a hold of her and rooting in her belly. She would think of this and think of it often; she would carry this with her, long for it, ache for the feeling that now spread through her.

At his name, her smile grew softly, curling the edges of her lips, and she laughed, the sound low and easy and kind. Playfully, she nipped at her neck, finding a spot between the curves of the armor. But it died as she let the name cement in her memory. "Dovev," she repeated slowly, tasting the syllables for the first time, finding them to her liking. "Dovev," a second time for good measure. She let her mouth linger on his flesh, breath rolling softly over it. "I like your name very much."

Innocence radiated off of her as the silence grew between them momentarily, and she busied herself with the sweep of his body before her, the closeness of them, the isolation.

"Why did you find me that day?"

Not accusatory, but curious--the answer all of a sudden crushingly important.

Because she had to know. She had to know why they met.

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

[Dovev]

Her laughter washed over him, new and refreshing, tugging a faint smile to his lips as he placed sweet kisses at her spine. She nipped him playfully and he chuckled softly, nosing against her as though he couldn't possibly touch her enough. Maybe he couldn't. He couldn't seem to let go of her, even for a moment. The feel of her was electrifying, shocking his entire body into hyper-sensitivity.

She said his name -once, twice. It felt so good to hear it taste her tongue, sing from her soothing voice. It wasn't quite soothing then, though. It was maddening; made him wish she were moaning it instead. Screaming it in the throes of passion. No, he couldn't do that to her. He was villainous enough without going that far. She'd never forgive him.

"Why did you find me that day?"
She pulled him from delicious dark fantasies, and he hummed absently as though waking from sleep, reluctant to release them. He had heard her though, he just didn't know how to answer her. Another tender kiss at her nape, then teeth gripped her and dragged her down to lie with him, pulling her roughly against him. The gentleness returned immediately in butterfly kisses along her hair. He sighed.

You were like a memory, a dream, an illusion. I could see nothing else. He shook his head against her dark crimson hair. breathing in that fragrance that fueled him to touch her regardless if she wanted it or not. I still see nothing else. Even when you are gone. Had he always been able to speak so kindly, so sweetly? He couldn't remember. He never had since as far back as his memory went. But it stopped abruptly, and so there was no knowing for sure. It didn't matter. She was here, and he did it for her. And he meant it.

And why do you allow me to touch you so? He emphasized it with a playful bite high on her neck, more lingering lover's kisses. How long would he last until he was trying to arouse her? Just like that first day.

No, he would control himself. It couldn't be that hard, right?