"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
02-05-2017, 01:43 AM (This post was last modified: 02-05-2017, 01:53 AM by Dovev.)
Before they even left the meadow, he knew he'd need to stop. Knew he would need to rest, so he could take them home. Take her home.
Stay a while, Atrani, he breathed softly into her hair. There is something I must do first. And then we will go home. He'd hovered, making sure there were no obstacles around her to trip and harm her, making sure there were no others near enough to find her before he returned. I will be as quick as I can. He pulled her to his chest, tucked her in close and embraced her. Listen for your mother, he wanted to say, but held it in. He wasn't sure why.
Then he'd left her. Found that place in the meadow where he'd first set eyes on Leliana. He thought he might have dreamt that she was there too. Or perhaps she had been. But rest did not join him, even there. And he'd had to claim it the only other way he knew how.
When he'd returned to Atrani, his breath shallow from a fractured rib and a gash above his eye, he'd been coated in blood that had blanketed him when he finally slept; some was his, most wasn't. He still was, as they walked, as they ghosted through the lands until they finally reached the sandbar to Ischia. He kept her at his side, walking slow and steady. But Cerva's hoofbeats never neared them. Maybe she just needed longer. Maybe he should go back for her once Atrani was home and safe. No, he wouldn't leave her alone; maybe they would both go back in the morning. Or give Cerva a day first.
He was uncertain now, when he'd always been so confident.
Confidently at Cerva's side.
He shook his head, pushed the thoughts away. They slowed to a stop at the lip of the ocean. The sandbar that led to the island stretched before them, and he nudged her onto it before him, steadying her. This is a path through the sea. It is dangerous, so never try to cross it without me. He guided her carefully to the left side of it until the water licked at her little feet, and then the right, showing her how narrow it was before falling in place behind her.
You will know it one day, but for now only walk. I won't let you fall.I will never let you fall.
He was solemn. Numb. And they walked the rest of the way in silence, only the rush and whisper of the sea in their ears. Night was falling, but only he could see it. A painful truth, that he had broken her before she was even born. That he'd already damaged her, like everything else he touched.
They didn't stop until he was guiding her into the darkness of home, a shallow hollow in the rock with vines hanging across the entrance like a camouflage. It no longer smelled like Leliana, a scent long lost in time's passage. How long had it been? At least a month, he supposed. Maybe two. But he pushed those thoughts away too. Only Atrani.
He left her there a moment without a word, stepping to the spring just outside and dropping himself within. The chilled current brushed against him, swept away the layer of blood -some his, most wasn't. He lay motionless a while, letting the spring system pump the filthy water away and replace with fresh again. Finally, he shook off and returned to her.
Rest, he said, settling before the opening so she couldn't wake up and wander out without his careful eye. Then he fell quiet, and watched her. How long would he wait until he searched for Cerva? Maybe he wouldn't have to.
She hears him, registers what he says, and still hesitates. Her head lifts to his shoulder where she traces her lips across skin and bone. ”Dad,” she whispers, but he has already left her in the meadow. He is gone as quickly as her heart takes another beat, just like mom. Confused, lost, she lies down so that the tall grass swallows her. She envisions herself hidden, but her splotched coat starkly contrasts with the vivid green of summer. In her solitude, she trembles and hums to herself.
Whether her parents are here or not, she is still alone in this dark world.
She can’t see them. Her senses are becoming more acute to take the place of what she lacks, but it still isn’t enough. Father could be standing just far enough away, watching her, but she wouldn’t know any better. This life she has is eternally lonesome, but she doesn’t have great optimism for her welfare. Even if it were to improve, even if she were to somehow find joy, she knows it wouldn’t last. It never does.
Atrani had been gleeful upon being born and finally meeting mother, but she had been rejected.
She sensed mother’s hidden rejection behind her false croons and forced kisses.
Father had his love back, but then she left.
Rhonen had made Atrani smile for the first time, but then they were forced apart.
So, no, nothing great ever lasts.
Her head is curled around her legs. Passersby glance nonchalantly toward her, but they don’t know if she is alive or dead, sleeping or awake. They simply look and move along.
Atrani was beginning to accept this new fate – father is gone, too – but he eventually returns and they are on the move again.
Water laps at her legs and she ambles backward in surprise. ”What is it?” She meekly asks, but father is already answering her and advising her of the path across the sea. ”I won’t,” she reassures in a most feeble voice, suddenly realizing that she is trapped. This isn’t Tephra, she convinces herself, while wondering what Tephra actually is. The word rings in her memory with mother’s voice, but it’s meaningless. One day she will learn, but for now, she is forced to obey father’s whims as he guides her to a hollow. The draping vines glide across her lovingly, but then she is advised to stop. She is unaware of the darkness within – her entire world is dark – and so she finds comfort in lying down while father leaves her again, albeit briefly.
When he returns, his voice rippling the silence, she peers up with hollow sockets and regards him with a mellow sigh. ”She isn’t coming back,” she murmurs into the blackness of their home, ”and I don’t blame her.” Who would want such an atrocity for a child? An abomination? A painful reminder of her faltering relationship with father?
”She didn’t want me.” She didn’t want us.
dove into her eyes and starved all the fears
picture by haenuli shin- HTML by Call - words: ________
She was dutifully compliant as they traveled. He felt every inch of distance between them, an ache in his chest he couldn't soothe. Even as they walked, he wanted to pull her into him. She was his everything. His very heart stolen from his chest and beating outside him. The only piece of Cerva he would ever have anymore, tainted and soiled by his blood. And still perfect.
"She isn't coming back," she voiced his own dark thoughts, "and I don't blame her. She didn't want me."
Anger immediately flared to life, anger at Cerva. He'd never been angry with her before, never disappointed in any way. But he hurt, and their baby hurt, and that hurt him further too. And it was Cerva's fault. How could she abandon them? No, how could she abandon Atrani? She was so little, so beautiful, so perfect. The product of their love. Why couldn't she just send him away, and love their baby. He could've settled for that, he lied to himself. But she hadn't wanted him, hadn't wanted their child.
I will want you enough for the both of us, he promised softly, burying the bitter hurt of abandonment as he eased closer. His body heat reached for her as eagerly as he did, but he was hesitant to touch her, hesitant to wrap around her and cradle her so close as he wanted to. So he didn't. Each time she pulled out of his embrace cut him deeper. He wasn't sure he could take another rejection from her just then. But he also couldn't go without touching her, needed to feel her.
His breath warmed her little cheek, longing to draw his mouth along that beautiful inverted blaze. How could his heart hurt when it was there before him so peacefully, beating in her. How could he survive ever losing her. He wouldn't. He couldn't lose her. So he didn't smother her until she broke, tried to keep himself carefully apart, from taking what he wanted. For her. Because she didn't truly want him too, did she. But maybe she could one day. Maybe she would want him too.
I will love you for the both of us too. I'll be all you ever need.
Promises he would always keep.
His mouth hovered along her pretty face, wishing he could just touch her and know she wanted him to. He sighed quietly, drifted to her little crest and began to carefully groom her. Each stroke and tug was gentle, methodical. She was beautiful, his little heart. He would keep her that way. He would learn to look after someone more than himself. Are you hungry, love? There's a woman that will feed you, but you must wait til morning. Will you be alright til then? It didn't matter that he hadn't asked if the mare would nurse her along with her twins; what mother could turn away a hungry little mouth, especially this one. He'd much prefer if he could do it himself. He wanted to be all she ever needed.
Are you happy, my heart? he asked softly, pulling away from her little mane enough to look into hollow eyes. Ruined by him, but so beautiful. Please be happy with me.
02-11-2017, 09:23 PM (This post was last modified: 02-11-2017, 09:23 PM by Atrani.)
Atrani
His breath is warm on her cheek. She accepts it with a soft lean into him and breathes in his familiar scent although it still lingers with that of the other girl. It causes an uncomfortable twist in Atrani’s stomach, but she says nothing of it. The pain of everything is still too fresh, and she’s reminded of it every time she takes a breath with no note of mother nearby. ”It isn’t the same,” she sighs into his shoulder despite how much she knows the truth will hurt him. ”Mothers are supposed to stay,” or so she has assumed although she may very well be wrong and lying to herself. But she looks up to father hopefully, her brows raising as her senses hungrily grope for him.
The promise that he makes immediately burns itself into her memory. Like a desperate child, she latches onto what he says. She wants to believe him, but there is a greater part of her that’s refusing to put her whole heart into his words. There is fear webbing around her because if there is one thing she has learned thus far, it’s that all good things come to an end. This intimacy between father and daughter will conclude and they will develop their daily patterns with or without each other. He will find new interests and eventually, Atrani may find herself the outcast and the shadow that looms over him, getting in the way of his true happiness.
She is his heart today, but what about tomorrow?
Shrouded in darkness, Atrani curls deeper into her father’s embrace where his body heat blankets around her. She savors these moments and rests her head against him to hear the steady beat of his heart. Her own synchronizes somehow, but then the drumming is masked by the deepened tone of his voice. As obediently as he can hope, she listens. Her small ears dance in circles to listen to his baritone, but she doesn’t yet lift her head away from him. Hesitation sinks its teeth into her, darkening her mind more than it already was. Her lip curls in distaste, but the scorn is hidden from him well enough until she is able to reply to him with a rather unsettling voice for one her age. ”Who, father?” Hunger is the last thing on her mind, but the opportunity is tempting enough to ask. ”Is it the woman you reeked of in the meadow?” She still knows nothing of the other woman or of the other life father led before she was born.
She knows nothing of her parents.
In due time she will learn, but she takes the assumption that her questions wouldn’t be answered now. And so she swallows her uncertainties for another day, reverting to being submissive and responding to father like she should. ”I want to be,” she breathes weakly, her face finally pulling away from his warm body, ”but then all of this would end.” Because good things never last.
dove into her eyes and starved all the fears
picture by haenuli shin- HTML by Call - words: ________
She settled into him and his breath hitched in his throat, his heart swelling for her. He brushed his lips along her cheek as her head rested against him. Perfect. She was perfect.
It isn't the same. Mothers are supposed to stay.
His heart broke, agreeing silently. He wished Cerva would have stayed too. Would have come home to them. But he couldn't bear the thought of her thinking so poorly of her mother. I don't think she could, Atrani. I saw how she loved you. She never would have stayed away from you. It surprised him that he believed it. If Cerva had been anything, it was endlessly loving. Maybe not towards him in the end but, there was a time when he'd been her everything. He swallowed the pain of that, ducking his head to kiss her, and whispered, I can't stay away either.
He mentioned the nursing mother that would feed her. Who, father? Is it the woman you reeked of in the meadow? He tensed at the mention of Leliana, at the subtly darker tone in her little voice, but let it fall away as he kissed her cheek, then her jaw. No, love. A mother here with us. Only until you can eat on your own. He bathed her in adoration, fully intending to take advantage of this time with her while she allowed him to. He needed her to be happy.
I want to be, but then all of this would end. She said quietly, pulling away from him at last. The loss of her tugged at him, as though his heart pulled out from his chest. Her words hurt him too. No, Atrani, he breathed, barely keeping himself from pulling her back in as he dearly wished to. But her rejection always hurt the worst, and he couldn't take it tonight, so he let her be. You and I will never end. Never.
He shifted and settled against her again, but refrained from pulling her into him. Instead, he tucked her close then reluctantly released her.
