#dai: griffonheart

[danceswithdarkspawn]

is sunday

happy sunday *throws confetti*

The ride to Vigil's Keep was an unhurried one. Fair weather followed them for much of the trip north of Denerim until about midday, when the sky suddenly turned dark and opened in a downpour.

Leliana glanced over toward Ariel, riding next to her. She hadn't spoken since the first flush of rain. Ariel was soaked to the bone - they both were - but something about the mist and grey skies made her features longer and her skin paler. Her long hair stuck to her face in ribbons, and her eyes, bright and shining when they took to the road that morning, lost their luster and seemed far away.

Leliana knew that look, but she decided to hold her tongue until they were upon the keep proper. “You have been quiet,” Leliana broached as they rode through the gates. “Something on your mind?” When he looked over, Ariel had an almost surprised expression.

But it melted with a quiet laugh and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Ariel looked up the face of the keep, squinting against the rain and ruefully replied, “There's a lot of old feelings caught up here.”

“It must bring you some comfort to be here again,” Leliana said, and Ariel laughed. They rode single-file into the stables.

“’Comfort’ might not be what I'd call it,” Ariel said as she slid off her horse. “But I guess it'll do.”

[danceswithdarkspawn]

A little something I did for the discord a while back. The prompt was "A getting caught undressing B with their eyes." Post-Trespasser; at the very end of Griffonheart (so some spoilers).

The Winter Palace is about as stuffy as the last time I was here. Hard to think it's been nearly a decade; I can't remember what Leliana and I attended for. The outfits people wear to these things have only gotten more ridiculous, and I'm not entirely sure how that's possible. But assessing crimes of fashion is not why I'm here.

I adjust my mask for what feels like the hundredth time within the space of an hour, pushing through crowds of partygoers. This place is like a Maker-forsaken labyrinth. It only takes about a dozen doorways, a little backtracking, and some subtle eavesdropping, but I finally find my way, and I find what I'm looking for.

It's hard to mistake her for anyone else. It's not exactly a high bar; the Inquisition and its people are the only ones in attendance not in masquerade attire.

But that red hair...damn, I'd recognize her anywhere. She's got it up in some kind of chignon, all the way off her neck. The stark red of her hair looks good against the black of her Inquisition dress. The attire looks stiff on the other Inquisition members I've spotted throughout the evening, but she somehow makes it look good, like the edges just...fit her perfectly without being severe. The whole getup is serious, modest, leaving very little to tantalize, but I know better.

I don't want to think about the effort it would take getting all that off. Bet it'd look better on some noble's parlor floor, though.

And when she turns from her colleagues to gaze across the garden— Maker, the look on her face. Hard, serious, her eyes sharp; she's working. There's something exhilarating in watching the way she carries herself, the way she effortlessly moves, everything with deliberation.

I can feel my heart start to gallop when she scans the gathered crowd, and my fingers clutch at the balcony railing, wondering if she'll spot me at my hiding place.

But I'm brought from my reverie as some fellow stumbles onto the balcony with me. Gaudy, wearing a high-collared jacket a size too big, golden masked, and reeking of strong spirits, he heavily leans on the rail next to me. He leans a bit close and says in a thick Orlesian accent, "I'd be careful of that one, were I you." He points a little haphazardly. "The Left Hand. They say many have met their end by her."

I decide to humor him. "Really? Is she that dangerous?"

He lets out a grunt and nods. "She catches you looking, bats those doe eyes, leads you away, and before you know it-" He lifts a fist to his collar, and runs his thumb across his neck. "You're food for the gutter."

I look back down into the garden, finding her and the other Inquisition members walking back into the palace.

A smile that creeps at the edge of my mask. I push away from the balcony, intending to pursue her. "I think I'll take my chances."

[danceswithdarkspawn]

wip wednesday

drafting a chapter for something you havent touched in a year is hard

The Constable dragged himself to his feet, brushing himself off and reordering his attire. His lip curled as his eyes scanned Ariel up and down, lingering as if to scrutinize every little detail. He let out a huff and said, "You're too defiant for a Warden-Commander. Eran would have-"

Ariel drew one of her swords and leveled it to the hollow of his throat. The Constable held up his hands in surrender, for what little it was worth, and peered down the length of the blade. "I don't recall you being the one to appoint my position," she coldly answered. "And you have precious little authority over what I do." She held the sword a moment longer before lowering it to her side. "Go back to Weisshaupt. Tell whoever's in charge to fuck off."

Another tense breath held between the trio while the goings on of the castle continued, oblivious. Finally, in a flurry, Ariel sheathed her weapon and turned, staggering towards the stairs into the gardens below.

“They will come for you,” the Constable called after her, and she froze in place. “You can run to the far corners of the world, and they will drag you back, one way or another. It's inevitable, just like the-.”

“The Warden-Commander is an important asset to the Inquisition,” Leliana cut in, drawing the Constable's scrutiny. “I am afraid she cannot be spared while Corypheus remains a threat.”

The man sputtered. Almost like a spoiled child, Leliana thought. “But the Wardens-”

“-are capable without her. She has been charitable with her time; I suggest you heed her instruction.”

He raised a finger to her, mouth opening, closing, and opening again, before he flourished off in the opposite direction. Leliana said a curse under her breath. She turned toward Ariel, only to find her no longer on the battlements. She peered across the garden just in time to watch her vanish inside the castle.

Leliana raised a hand to her eyes, squeezing at an ache that threatened to develop.

Maker, help me.

[danceswithdarkspawn]

we're pretending its still sunday

i got sidetracked making a meme, oops

"People talk," Ariel said, pulling Leliana back, "and it doesn't take much listening to figure out what's going on." She bent down, snatching something off the floor. "I'm not stupid. I know what happens when the Divine dies." She let out a humorless laugh. "Just wish I found out from you and not some gossiping jackass."

[danceswithdarkspawn]

six sentence sunday

it's too early to do math but i think this is six

She handed the reins of her horse to one of her agents before wading through the crowd to where Ariel stood. Ariel briefly looked up as she approached; the lines in her face deepened, her eyes darkened and her attention darted away again.

"I wanted to see you off," she said when Leliana stood before her, waiting. "I guess this is how you felt when I went away to Amaranthine." Though her lips bore a crooked smile, her voice betrayed something else.

"With luck, I won't be gone nearly as long."

"Of course not, I only meant that...just be careful out there, won't you?"

[danceswithdarkspawn]

Last Line/Heads Up 7 Up

*crash lands onto tumblr*

Hello, I am a disaster coming here on this *checks calendar* fine Saturday morning to participate in the tumble games.

@justanotherpersonwhowrites tagged me earlier this week and I am happy to report I actually wrote something.

tagging to play: @kayedium-writes, @mikaharuka, @oceangirl24 + open tag because I'm tired and I love you all, if you see this participate if you can/want to

"Do you remember the first time we danced like this?" Ariel murmured to break the silence. Leliana drew back just enough to properly look at her partner. The moonlight coming in through the rookery's small window and the opening in the roof was the only illumination in this place, and it danced slowly across Ariel's face as they made lazy turns. It was a pale silver that lit up her sea-storm eyes, made them wax and wane; found peaks and valleys and war wounds and all the familiarity in them. It was a sharp contrast to the firelight that heralded the first of their many dances, which laid bare trepidation and vulnerability. She was on the burning edge of change then, fighting submission even while the flames swallowed her whole.

Leliana's fingers slid into the hair at Ariel's nape, coursing through it. It never ceased to amaze her how easily it slipped through her fingers. "How could I forget?" she quietly answered, pressing their foreheads together. A stifled laugh filtered from Ariel's lips and her arms tightened around Leliana's waist.

"Do you wanna know what I was thinking then?" she said.

"What?"

"I was thinking, 'Maker, I hope I don't step on her toes,'" she answered, and Leliana laughed a little. "You know what else?" Leliana let out a questioning hum, letting herself lean into Ariel's presence. "'Damn, she's pretty.'"

A smug grin pulled at Leliana's mouth, and she turned her head until her lips met flesh. "Is that all?"

"Mm, one more thing." One of Ariel's hands came up and cupped her face, guiding Leliana to look at her. Their steps paused, suspended in the small space between them, and Leliana felt like she could drown within Ariel's argent eyes. She'd gladly go, if told to.

Ariel leaned forward until their lips brushed. "'I really want to kiss her,'" she whispered.

[danceswithdarkspawn]

it is sunday my dudes

have some Griffonheart bonus chapter

i was gonna write newer-ish stuff but my brain is on fire as of late

Leliana made her way to the vestibule, where most of the crowd now gathered. At the opposite end, Ariel ascended the staircase to the guest wing.

She weaved her way through the crowd, pushing past the many false faces and people of overgrown importance. The hum of it all, the voices, the flicker of fire in the chandeliers and lamps, the quiet debauchery that permeated these events mattered so little. They were obstacles now instead of an elaborate game to navigate, and she intended to carve a path straight through the board.

The guest wing door clamored closed behind her, sealing away the party and its annoyances. The entryway was quiet, barely lit, and devoid even of the palace’s servants and other guests.

“My, my, Sister Nightingale—” Leliana looked up to the upper level, finding an unmasked Ariel slanted against the railing. “You've been quite busy tonight. And your little underlings,” she added, pushing away from the rail and vanishing, “have been watching me like a hawk.”

Leliana shook her head, smiling to herself. She expected her agents to refer to her as such; a title, an ill omen, but the moniker always felt silly coming from Ariel. She supposed that was the point. “Can you blame them?” She padded over to the stairs. Ariel waited for her at the top. She was wreathed in the soft silver and gold glows of both moon and firelight, looking almost phantasmal and devastatingly beautiful. Leliana began a deliberate ascent. “You weren't exactly discreet.”

Ariel laughed. “I wasn't trying to be discreet.” She extended a hand when Leliana approached the top, which she graciously took. “Must've gave you bedroom eyes at least a dozen times.”

[danceswithdarkspawn]

wip wednesday

its fine it's still wednesday where i am don't look at me

anyway this was/is part of a prompt game I got aaaaages ago and am now desperately trying to finish. some spoilers.

CW for self-destructive thoughts

Morrigan approached the fire sometime later, jarred salve in her hands. Ariel didn't look up from the fire until Morrigan stood beside her. The sharpness of her features were made even more severe by the shadows resting in their hollows. It made her appear much more slight than she was. Her skin was a sickly pale, nearly taking on the orange hue of the light of the campfire. The only variation was marked by black spidering veins creeping up her neck. Ariel's eyes began to cloud in the days prior, transforming her pupils into endless milky pools.

"Do I look that bad?"

Morrigan blinked, catching herself. She released a small breath through her nose and said, "You've not quite the visage of a hurlock. Perhaps there is some humanity left in you yet." A long breath passed with only the crackle of fire between them, meanwhile Ariel simply stared in silence. "I made more of this for you," Morrigan said, holding out the jar. Ariel took it slowly and turned it over in her hands. "I noticed you were having some trouble walking; it should help alleviate some of the pain."

Ariel set the jar down near her boot. "Thanks."

"Are you experiencing any other pains?" Morrigan frowned a little when Ariel shook her head. "Nothing at all?"

The beleaguered Warden let out a humorless laugh. "I'm dying, but yeah, I'm fine." Morrigan inhaled a slow breath and bit down a scathing remark. Ariel tilted her head up to regard her, was silent for a long moment, before letting out a sigh. She looked down, head dropping between her shoulders. Morrigan thought it reminiscent of a dog tucking its tail in. "I'm sorry," Ariel finally said, rubbing at her eyes. "I know you're just trying to help."

Morrigan released a measured breath, feeling her bristling ire cool. She crossed her arms, shifted from one foot to the other, flippant, meaningless motions meant to distract from her raw heart. Anger was how Ariel dealt with things, Morrigan reminded herself. She supposed she would be angry too, given the circumstances. Still, something about this anger was different. Helpless, perhaps.

The night and the campfire crackled on, unaware.

"Is there anything more I can do for you?" The question came out a little sharper than Morrigan intended.

But Ariel let out a bitter laugh that bordered on a sob. She shook her head in her hands, drew in a seething breath, pushed her fingers through her hair. "You could kill me," she finally said.

"I will do no such thing." Ariel didn't answer, hands clenched. "How severe is the pain?"

"Go stick your hand in the fire," Ariel said, motioning. "It's like that, but everywhere." Another hissing inhale. "And probably...I think I'd prefer to burn, at this point."

Morrigan made for her potions stock before Ariel finished, rummaging through little corked bottles, holding them up to the light, before choosing one. She uncorked it on the way back. "You could tell me before it gets so debilitating. Here." She held the bottle out; Ariel righted herself long enough to take and down its contents. Morrigan retook the emptied glass and returned it to the stockpile.

But she lingered there, frozen at first and eyes glazing over open tomes with their annotations, different reagents and the rest of her supplies. Her heart began to gallop, and Morrigan made herself busy without much thought. Pages turned, bottles opened, a crucible was filled; the scent of crushed embrium and wax and just a little rose water and—

"It's not debilitating," Ariel said from across the fire. "If it was, I wouldn't be walking."

"You are a fool," Morrigan spat. She flicked her wrist and a fire sprang to life beneath the crucible. "You needn't be immobile to be debilitated. You know this, I hope?" She shot a look over to the fire, where a pair of colorless eyes bore right through her. She snapped her attention back down, snatching a stirring rod and plunging it into the waxy slurry. "You should be resting."

"I will, once that stuff starts working."

Morrigan scoffed. Her brow ached. "I will hold you to that."

A strained laugh. "What are you gonna do, turn into a wolf and lay on me?"

A pang streaked through the witch's chest. A memory, long since tamped down, dredged to the surface; her lips flickered, the fire licked at the sides of the crucible. Morrigan hadn't meant for the gesture to hold him down, but rather to—

"It worked for Eran, did it not?"

The night turned deathly quiet. Morrigan tamped out the little fire, went about pouring the mixture into an empty vessel. It wasn't blended well. Too choppy, too stiff from scorching. It did not matter much to her, however; the distraction had served its purpose, though her nerves still felt frayed and raw.

"Would you do it for him?"

[danceswithdarkspawn]

wip wednesday

i had nothing but filth on sunday but i finally have some non-filth (yay fluff), also i hope everyone had a happy holiday (or a good day if you don't celebrate for any reason, i see you i love you you're valid)

Leliana had missed the feel of Ariel’s weight against her. The cadence of her breaths, constant like the rise and fall of the waves, soothed her nerves on even the worst of days. The silk of her hair, finally unbound, felt divine through her fingers.

She lingered on familiar and favored spots; her temples where featherlight wisps gathered, behind the flare of her ear, the nape of her neck. Leliana couldn't help but smile whenever Ariel's breath turned to a pleased hum, long and rumbling, almost catlike.

Ariel was the first to succumb to sleep, still curled into Leliana's side with her head squarely nestled in her shoulder. Leliana stayed awake for a while longer to savor her presence, knowing she might be gone by morning.

Leliana wasn't sure when she drifted off. When she woke, she resisted the waking world in favor of staying comfortably curled beneath quilted finery.

It was the first time in a while she'd felt truly rested, she realized as she lay there. Always too on edge, fully guarded in anticipation of being needed.

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Two heavily curtained arch windows let in just enough light to cast soft outlines of the guestroom. The evidence of their lovemaking—strewn clothes, bits of armor, furniture pushed out of the way—marked a path from the door, the couch, to the bed. Leliana guessed it was early, in the twilight phase and long before most of Halamshiral’s visitors woke. Late parties birthed late mornings, Leliana told herself with a languid stretch.

Much to her relief, Ariel was still there when she looked over. Contorted in some awkward position, hips slanted so she could lay on her bad leg without putting too much pressure on it. She was still just as naked, and her hair spilled out behind her in a tarnished silver waterfall. The scar-polished edge of Ariel's ear jutted out like a rock amongst a river current.

She gingerly tucked the flow of hair behind Ariel’s ruined ear. Ariel stirred but didn't wake. Leliana's touch trailed down her neck, the slope of her back. She was burning hot despite barely being covered, a quality Leliana was frequently thankful for, and sometimes disturbed by.

She supposed she should get up; indeed, there was much to be done in the wake of the Inquisition’s disbandment, and its leaders were not afforded the same fashionable luxuries of late-waking Orlesian nobles. Still, it was rather early, and no one had come to fetch her yet, so…

She molded herself to Ariel's back, pressing a light kiss to the nape of her neck as the other woman grumbled. A hand closed over her own, tucked it neatly in the valley of Ariel’s chest. She again fought the tug of sleep, gently lulled by the rise and fall of steady breaths.

Leliana missed this so keenly.

[danceswithdarkspawn]

six sentence sunday

i'm ignoring it's almost midnight where i am

"You have an obligation to the Order—" "My obligation was over once the Blight ended," Ariel snarled at him. "The Order told me to rebuild Ferelden's Wardens. I did that my way. I'm not going to hand them over to you so you can sign their death warrants." "My orders were to bring you back; the others will reconvene in time."

[danceswithdarkspawn]

Good Lines Tag Game

Rules: What’s a line that you’re tremendously proud of writing, and what’s a line that’s just ridiculous out of context?

Heeding the call from @frozen-fountain for this, I have SO MANY lines I love and had a hard time picking something I haven't shared 900 times.

Soft-tagging the following: @tsunderewatermelon, @justanotherpersonwhowrites, @kayedium-writes, @udaberriwrites, and @alpaca-clouds. Additionally, Open Tag for anyone interested!

This first one is technically two line breaks but I felt it needed the additional context. It's just Ariel going off an internal monologue tangent, as she is wont to do.

From Chapter 13 of Broken Bird, With Passion'd Breath:

A faith that did nothing for the alienage was often the only thing one had in life. Believe in the Maker, follow the Chant; live a life in worship, and perhaps in death, you will burn as Andraste did, and sit by the Maker’s side.

In death, their faith meant nothing. Fire could not burn away the hardships of the alienage anymore than faith and prayer could stop the squalor, the killings, the rapes. The Chantry had placed us there, quartered away behind ghastly walls, and told us to keep to the faith.

For the out-of-context line, I present the following from Chapter 10 of Griffonheart.

“And why not? You scare the shit out of me.” She took a long drink. "I literally watched you snap a guy's neck with your legs."

[danceswithdarkspawn]

🦀

this part is so silly and i just fucking love it to bits

“Come on,” Ariel whined. A corner of Leliana’s lips curved upon hearing the noise. “The boy is old enough to learn swords! Eran and I learned way earlier than he did!”

“That is because ‘twas necessary for you to do so.” The witch crossed her arms. “He has an aptitude for magic, which I have already been fostering, mind you.”

“Who said mages can’t use swords? What about conjured swords?”

“The answer is still a decisive no.”

[danceswithdarkspawn]

Character Master List (aka The Idiots I Lovingly Torture)

Eran Tabris | The Eagle | Grey Warden | 11 Wintermarch 9:04, Denerim, Ferelden | 5'10 |

WARRIOR: Sword and Shield | SPECIALIZATION: Guardian | ROMANCE: Morrigan |

Patient, understanding, and averse to conflict...but Maker help you if you hurt his sister. The backbone of the group, a natural leader, taking on more burdens than he should bear for the sake of helping others.

TEN OF WANDS, REVERSED: BURDEN, RESPONSIBILITY, STRESS

THE HANGED MAN, UPRIGHT: RELEASE, SACRIFICE

KING OF CUPS, UPRIGHT: COMPASSION, BALANCE, PEACE

Ariel Tabris | The Swallow | Warden-Commander | 20 Justinian 9:10, Denerim, Ferelden | 5'6 |

ROGUE: Dual Swords | SPECIALIZATIONS: Bard, Shadow | ROMANCE: Leliana |

Iron-hearted. Fiercely loyal. Passion in all things.

KNIGHT OF WANDS, REVERSED: HOSTILITY, RECKLESS, IMPULSIVE

FIVE OF CUPS, UPRIGHT: GRIEF, LOSS, REGRET

DEATH, UPRIGHT: TRANSFORMATION, REBIRTH, RELEASE

Renata Lavellan | The Blackbird | Herald of Andraste | circa 5 Draconis 9:15, Free Marches | 5'5 |

WARRIOR: Sword and Shield | SPECIALIZATION: Champion | ROMANCE: Josephine |

Once a proud Dalish warrior, now the unfortunate and unwilling spearhead of Thedas' major religion.

THE MOON, UPRIGHT: DECEPTION, FEAR, UNCERTAINTY

THE HERMIT, REVERSED: ISOLATION, INTERNAL STRIFE

THE HIEROPHANT, UPRIGHT: CONFORMITY, TRADITION, FAITH

Elisabeth Trevelyan | The Owl | Inquisitor | 16 Harvestmere 9:12, Ostwick, Free Marches | 5'8 |

MAGE: Spirit Blade | SPECIALIZATION: Knight-Enchanter | ROMANCE: -

Brutal. Pragmatic. Once destined to a life of luxury and privilege serving the Chantry, until she showed a mage's talents. Her time in the Circle has made her disillusioned with the Chantry.

THE TOWER, UPRIGHT: CHANGE, REVOLUTION

FIVE OF SWORDS, UPRIGHT: CONFLICT, OVERAMBITION

SIX OF CUPS, REVERSED: MOVING ON, INDEPENDENCE

[danceswithdarkspawn]

Her faith was a frayed carmine rope, hanging on by a single thread that, Maker help her, could destroy her if it broke.

Leliana eventually drifted back to the rookery. She quietly oversaw her delegations, assisting where she saw fit, but careful not to give solutions outright. Careful with herself not to skirt the knife’s edge of Marjolaine’s teachings. It was a good opportunity to foster fledgling seneschals; once the Inquisition was over, Leliana had no intentions of remaining in the fold.

Though, in truth, she may not have a choice. 

She stood a short distance away from the gathering of her agents, staring passively at the Andrastian shrine erected in an alcove. An unsophisticated thing, paling towards the Grand Cathedral or even the proper chapel in the gardens. And yet it was hers; a reminder of her wavering faith and the sin she committed in service to the Divine.

The Divine whose death held a knife to her throat, whose death she could not mourn, because there was no room to do so. Her faith was a frayed carmine rope, hanging on by a single thread that, Maker help her, could destroy her if it broke.

Leliana carefully relit the votive candles that sputtered out with a gust of wind, scraping away excess wax.

That one thread was a life already forfeited to service, honor, and sacrifice.

“Blighted blood burns in her bones, beckoning her to darkness.”

Leliana looked up from the shrine, hearing the familiar, almost emotionless voice. It was spoken directly in her ear, stark against the quiet mutterings of her agents just feet away, but she found nothing.

Until she looked up, finding Cole, all limbs and a large, brimmed hat, perched upon the rafters above. Leliana said nothing for an overlong breath, finally glancing back toward her agents before finding the enigmatic boy again.

“They won’t remember me,” he said. 

Rather than entertain him, Leliana returned her gaze toward the altar, but Cole’s presence lingered on the back of her mind like a brooding raven. She searched the lifeless face of the Prophetess, a crude machination of wood weathered by time and the elements, and yet piercing in Her stare as if she could see right through the Nightingale’s guise.  

"Dark, betrayed, broken bird. Hopeless and then hope.” Each new word came more fraught than the last, steadily rising to match the well of emotion building through Leliana’s lungs, her heart, her head, threatening to spill. Hot, sharp. “My last light. Maker, help her.” Remorse. Regret. Rage. “Maker, please.”

“Stop.”

And it did, the burden sliding away from her shoulders to slink back into the shadows.

“Sister Leliana?”

A stab ripped at her throat, searing down through her chest. It was with shame that she felt her agents’ eyes upon her back. She turned just enough, meeting their gazes with the indifference of a wolf eyeing a lamb. “You’ve done enough,” she declared. “Go, now. I will finish here.”

A collective hesitation flitted across the three agents, but they quietly relented, closing a fist over their hearts before departing the rookery. Her heart galloped loudly in her chest as Leliana made her way back over to her ramshackle desk. She stared down at countless pieces of parchment, but between the pounding of her head and the twisting of her stomach, she focused on none of them.

She felt numb. Drained and utterly numb. 

The presence filtered back over her, less looming and more sympathetic this time.

“She has many names,” Cole said, his voice flat once again. Leliana didn’t look up this time. “She only wants one.”

[danceswithdarkspawn]

Ariel/Leliana and kiss prompt 6...on a falling tear 😊

Mhm, your fluff disguise doesn't fool me.

Something like this is technically going to be in the final chapters of one of my longfics, but its not really spoiler-ish i guess.

6: on a falling tear

Leliana gave Ariel a beseeching look, and she in turn glanced between her and the others ahead. Ariel whistled to get their attention as she and Leliana stopped their horses.

"Could you give us a moment?" she called out to Morrigan and Cassandra. Morrigan went on without a word; Cassandra tossed a silent question to Leliana, who answered with a nod.

Leliana spared no time in dismounting from her own horse once they were a respectable distance away, and threw herself against Ariel before she could fully gain her bearings.

"Please be safe," she said against Ariel's shoulder, tightening her hold around her back.

Ariel wound her arms around Leliana's waist. "You're worried about me?" Ariel laughed, but it fell flat when Leliana's breath choked into a sob.

"I'm always worried about you." Leliana pulled back enough to look into Ariel's eyes, her face feeling hot despite the frigid mountain air. Ariel's expression twisted, her lips parted, and she brought a hand back to cup Leliana's face.

"Come on, Dove, don't cry," Ariel pleaded, her lips forming a broken smile. "You're gonna make me cry." She leaned forward until their foreheads met. A heavy breath passed between them. The sorrow that crackled in the space between them felt tangible against Leliana's skin.

"I'm gonna miss you," Ariel whispered to her, the words coming out thick.

Leliana turned her head until her lips met Ariel's skin, feeling the stain of a tear and tasting its salt.

"I already miss you."

[danceswithdarkspawn]

First Ten Lines

@axolotlsupremacyowo tagged me for this interesting game I haven't seen yet. Big Heckin' Open Tag because it's still way too early and I need more sleep.

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway!

Bear with me because a lot of these are sitting in my drafts waiting to be edited. >.>;

The Queen of Swords (WIP)

It started with a proposition.

It was on a day she couldn’t quite remember, maybe a week or better after returning from Adamant. Elisabeth sat in Skyhold’s gardens, reading and rereading over the same three paragraphs of a letter. It arrived early the previous day, sat in squalor upon the Inquisitor’s desk, before she finally snatched it. And how she dreaded it, because it was filled with pretty words from pissed off nobles, dancing around displeasure over the Inquisition’s actions at Adamant.

So when the sun cast a long shadow over and beyond her, she looked up, squinting harshly, and found the Iron Bull, all greyskin and muscle, towering over her. His good eye peered at her from over his crossed arms, but his face remained otherwise neutral.

“Hey, boss.”

“You’re blocking my light,” she said, and looked back to her papers.

Two of Swords

To say that the events at Adamant were demoralizing would be…insufficient.

True, Elisabeth Trevelyan gave Inquisition forces and the remaining Wardens a rallying speech once she emerged from the Fade. She made an appeal to the Wardens to unite under the Inquisition’s banner, to fight the common enemy that brazenly showed its face there. And to her credit, it worked. Even her companions who opposed the idea acquiesced to the prospect, however unsavory.

But the fragile quiet could only last for so long. The adrenaline that carried the Inquisitor through the siege, the Fade, through that impassioned speech for change…By the time the Inquisition made its way back to their outpost at Griffon Wing Keep, Elisabeth wanted nothing more than to collapse in her tent.

A Small Victory

One of my earliest memories is the first day Eran taught me to pick up a sword.

It was just after my sixth nameday in the waning days of summer. Eran woke me in the small hours of the morning, way too early for any of my small-self sensibilities. I remember him dressing me in the dark and taking me by the hand, leading me out into the dirt path street and to the quietest corner of the alienage that he could. I remember the smell of the final gasp of the season’s wildflowers, remember feeling the heaviness of the air. A promise of a sweltering day.

Stricken Canticles (M, NSFW if clicking through)

The glittering tiles of the Grand Cathedral are immaculate, but they cannot compare to the stars in her eyes.

She leads me away from all the fuss and flurry, navigating rooms and corridors known only to the privy. The walls are gilded but so is she, resplendent in the moonlight that reaches through stained glass windows.

A Letter to Swallow (WIP)

The days meld into one another, as they have every day for what feels like Ages on end.

19th of August. 9:41 Dragon. I keep track in a journal if only to remind me of the passage of time. Of how many days, weeks—years have gone by since I saw her. A reminder, also, of the time I have left. 

Mourning Dove (WIP)

“I came here seeking Grey Warden recruits,” that shem had said. What was his name—Duncan? “It seems it may have found what I seek. Someone who can show restraint is a valuable asset to the Wardens, especially in times like these.”

I wonder if Duncan thought the same when I delivered my sister and the others from Arl Kendell’s estate. Bathed in blood, wild-eyed and furious doesn’t strike me as the image of restraint.

Remove The Mask (WIP)

Everything was too much.  The grandeur of it all made her teeth ache.

The lights were too bright. The heat was too stifling. The string quartet sounded like dying darkspawn, regardless of the melody it played. Innumerable voices speaking in hushed whispers, low like the thrum of insects, grated against the inside of her skull.

For the Love of Nugs

"Nug breeding, eh?" 

Leliana looked over her shoulder at Ariel as they walked through the gardens back to the villa. "You sound like that's unexpected."

Ariel shrugged. "I'm just wondering what kind of monster I made wrangling Schmooples all those years ago."

Broken Bird, Chapter 1

We clash together in the predawn grey, as we always do after the events of Ostagar.

Eran moves with all the calculation of an eagle, shoulders squared, as he lunges towards me. His sword comes down from his shoulder in an arc, exacting where I will be when it crashes. I catch it in time between the cross of my swords; it was a light-hearted swing and he knows I know this. I shove him away with a frustrated grunt.

Griffonheart, Chapter 1

"Leliana,

Situation at ritual site in the Approach was as bad as it sounded. There was blood magic. They were using Wardens to summon and bind demons. That's where the demon army I was told about in Redcliffe will come from.

We neutralized the Wardens and demons at the site but the person behind this bullshit got away. Hawke has a lead on Adamant Fortress.

Corypheus planted false Callings in their heads. They were terrified. Attached are some notes from affected Wardens, courtesy of Stroud.

I don't know what else to say except it's fucked.

-R. Lavellan"