Leliana does not make it in time to assist with her daughter’s birthing process or the arrival of her granddaughter. She does not feel her breach the border. She is asleep—deeply rooted in dreams—and only wakes when she feels Prayer’s first shuddering inhale. Her hazel eyes fly open, growing round, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. She leans over to Vulgaris, curled quietly next to her, and presses a kiss into his cheek—not rousing him from slumber, instead pressing the message into his subconscious.
“I’m going to check on Sabbath. Watch over Saint and Drache, my love.”
Then with a yawn, she pulls herself to her feet and is gone in a swirling pattern of leaves and petals. When her eyes open again, it is next to her daughter and the pink glow of morning continues to creep toward them both. “Sabbath,” her voice is a soft cry that spills over her lips before she can contain it. She knows that she should give her daughter space—should let her come back to her on her own terms—but she can’t restrain herself from gathering her up and pulling her close into a warm embrace.
Her heart aches at the sight of the mare’s broken horn (just how much pain had her daughter been in?) but she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she presses a thousand kisses to her cheek and neck before leaning back to look down at the tangle of midnight limbs. “She’s stunning,” she exhales and with it, her magic begins to weave around the pair of them. It is restorative and so similar to the golden light of her healing that she almost forgets that it is fortified by a greater power. Regardless, she presses the strength into Sabbath’s limbs—easing the ache and the exhaustion so that she can focus on the golden glow of it all.
it's only you and me there until the darkness calls
let's face the dawn together; we'll brave whatever comes
@[Sabbath]