#fuzzles and champ

[mapplestrudel]

Hurt

A/N: My first time writing something angsty… Rona is about to leave and wants to sneak a hug, but instead the past sneaks up and things go wrong.

It takes place some time (a month?) after - Night Whispers -.

This whole journey with Rona and Cullen is a chronological mess, but if you’d like to know more, there’s a Masterpost - here -.

Thank you very much @gwen-cousland and @john-cousland for pre-post comments and encouragement :D  Also tagging @element-104 and @princess-underthemountain because Rona ^_^

Word Count: ~ 1.200

It’s not long before dawn, the sky already shedding its night blue dress as Rona and Mira approach the Command Tower in full traveling attire. She had hoped to find Cullen up already to say goodbye before leaving for urgent Mail matters in Denerim, maybe even sneak a hug for good luck. But as she quickly scans the office, desk and chair, and the sofa at the other side, she finds them all empty. Upstairs, though, a lantern is lit, its flame fretful in the breeze through the hole in the roof. The corners of her mouth twitch slightly as her face warms up. It’s her lantern, a gleaming little welcome. However, she doesn’t want to disturb his sleep, so a quick note will have to do.

With a few fast strides she’s at the desk, while Mira runs up to the ladder. She’s just found a pen, as indistinct groaning from above catches her attention. A short glance to Mira, and the pen clutters unwanted on the table. The mabari fidgets, keeps looking up and whimpers, and Rona is at the ladder within the blink of an eye, steps echoing between the walls.

“Cullen?”

She calls up and tilts her head in hope of an answer, listening with her good ear, grey eyes squinted and focussed through the planks of the loft. Again groaning, tossing, all accompanied by the song of a robin in the branches of the roof tree.

“Cullen? Is everything alright?”

No answer, but a clang on the planks. She looks again at Mira as if the mabari could grant a sudden spark of knowledge of what to do. Fists clench as she stares back up the ladder. Then the sounds from above culminate into a series of pleading “No, no! No!” while Mira puts her forelegs at a chest high step, and barks once.

“Yeah, you bet I’m going up. Keep watch, alright?”

An affirmative bark is the answer, and the mabari sits on her hind legs, ears up and twitching. With swift steps Rona climbs the ladder, its metal cold to her touch. A peek over the fall hole reveals nothing unusual, but Cullen is heavily tossing and turning on the bed, his mumbles like a silent plea for help.

“No… no… leave me.”

Old wood creaks as she steps up and onto the planks.

“Cullen! What’s – ”

Her breath gets caught as her heart starts weeping at the sight before her. The bed is a mess, crumpled, damp. He is writhing as his hands grasp the sheets so hard the knuckles turn white. His face, pale, but glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, is contorted into a mask of pain, eyes squeezed shut, forehead furrowed, jaws pressed against each other as his teeth grind. His locks are dark from the sweat, sticking to his face. Beside the bed a mug lies in a clear puddle.

Rona is at a loss. Never before has she seen anybody having such an intense nightmare. Her own occasional bad dreams seem like a piece of cake in contrast. What to do? He has to wake up, or he’ll hurt himself.

“Cullen, wake up.” She calls him somewhat louder and rakes a shaking hand through her hair, still put where she climbed onto the planks.

“No. NO! Go away!”

“I’ll –,” her voice trembles, as much as she’s trying to keep it steady - “I’ll go for sure, but you’ve gotta wake up first!”

She takes a deep breath and rounds the bed to his side, reaches out - recoils - but then closes the distance at last. And as soon as she touches his shoulder, she knows - this was a mistake.

Cullen rises abruptly, eyes wide but not recognizing.

“Demon!” he shouts with hate contorted face, and grabs her, falling on her from the bed. “Stay away from me!”

Strong fingers snake around her throat, pressing in unrelenting force.

“Cull… Stop…! “ - she rasps desperately - “it’s me!”

To no avail.

Something shatters inside her with a crystal fine “ting”, and as her breath leaves her, other sensations flood over her.

A manic crowd cheers, entrenched in smell of blood and sweat and booze and death. Above her the furious amber eyes disappear, dissolve into mud brown bogs of hate in a greasy face, adorned by a vicious smile. The foul stench is overwhelming and makes her heave. Two strong hands grip tight around her neck while the sheer mass of the body keeps her wiggling uselessly in place. Dark spots start to dance in her vision, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. Then one hand leaves the throat, starts tearing at her pants. Somewhere in the back, a half grown puppy growls and barks, shuffling at a cage door. A tongue slides up her cheek, a mouth breathes rotten air hard into her ear and grates with disdain dripping voice

“Know your place, woman.”

She bites. At the ear. Bites through. Spits while blood gushes and the smelly meat loses balance, almost burying her. But she scrambles, scrambles, scrambles, kicks at the face, anything. Then free, finally. Breathing. Air into the lungs. Air. Breathe! It hurts. But she breathes.

She’s on him a second later, sitting on his back, his arm twisted backwards. Oh she knows the leverage and presses hard and fast, the sound of breaking bone like music in her ears. She dissembles him. Methodically. Limb by limb. Doesn’t know what’s more disgusting. The blood-thirsty crowd rejoicing in the symphony of pain. Or the smelling, sobbing Meatface making sounds like a little bunny in a bear trap.

Or - that she likes that she’s good at this, good at something after all.

It all comes back and floods her mind. She’s there at the loft, but also not. Bone cracks, and a furious wail sends her flying against the wall. She picks herself up, trembling, fists up in reflex to counter any move. But nothing comes. She shakes her head and blinks, her vision returning reluctantly.

He’s there, staring, a distant cold marring the soft amber. But he, too, blinks, and the hate melts and she sees her own pain, regret and guilt reflected in his eyes. His shoulders slump, arms hanging at the side, blood dripping from his right wrist where bone protrudes from the flesh. Her hand goes up massaging her throat, falls down as she looks again at his wrist.

Her ragged breath picks up pace as her eyes well up. It’s all too much - too much - it hurts.. everything… her throat, her head, her heart - she can’t… She can’t… She cannot stay.

“I’m… leaving… for Denerim.”

A hoarse whisper pressed through clenched teeth and quivering lips across the bed - their refuge! - that now feels like an abyss. She’s not sure if it reaches over, cannot care right now. Then she turns and heads to the ladder and is gone.

***

Cullen stands paralyzed. Red pain circles in his arm, white pain stings in his head, blue pain singes through his veins. All too much to bear, the lantern too bright, but the room got darker when she left. Exhaustion stayed, however, and brings him down. He curls up on the spot beside the bed and weeps.

[floweringthewords]

Untitled pt. 2 - Bitter Taste.

The air was crisp as I waited parked by the front gate, near the park that was currently surrounded by toddlers. It was a nice enough breeze for me to leave the windows open. Arizona was pretty much always hot year round, save for a few heavy showers at the beginning of the year. 

I was about a quarter way through my book when the long bell tone rung out and the doors flew open. I flip through a few more pages before keeping a lookout for Kelsey.

I spot her passing a group of kids, holding their stomachs as she passes and her with a very ready-to-go-home look.

She opens the car door, climbs in, and it slams. My face instantly falls. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I have a lot of homework. I’m gonna get started on it at grandma’s.”

Knowing fully well that wasn’t the case, I start the drive so I can get her to open up. This was usually our catch up time in case I got back late to pick her up from my parents’, or we had other plans that night. Our band practices could go on for hours, while other times, it was turned into a meeting and cut short.

“Hey, so did you decide yet if you’re gonna do that Softball Team thing over the summer?” I ask casually, glancing over to gauge her response. “If you end up liking it, we could even sign you up for the season in the fall.”

She sighs. “I don’t know. I thought you said we were gonna try to road trip?”

I bite my lip forgetfully. “Oh right. Well there’s still time! We could either go before the practices start, or at the end of the summer before school starts up again-“

“I wanted us to have the whole summer together,” she mumbles off handedly, staring down at her lap. It causes my chest to fold in on itself as the guilt settles in from last year. The band ended up having to tour all summer long, so we never got to spend time together. It really seemed to break her heart and I didn’t want to turn into the negligent father after her mother dips out on her. She doesn’t need me to let her down when she already has a no-show for a mom.

I smile and rest my hand on her seat. “You’re right. Maybe next year. I can just show you myself and get you warmed up, yeah? Give you some one on one lessons.”

That seems to cheer her up as she grins. “Yeah. And we can still go to Wisconsin like we talked about!”

“Maybe,” I chuckle, letting a short moment pass. “So what happened at school today?”

Her lifted spirits disperse and she scoffs. “Jonathan McWatsky decided to start a food fight at lunch and someone got pizza all over me. They called me into the office thinking that I had something to do with it. They wanted to give me a detention. Detention!”

“Nine year olds get detentions?”

“I guess so.”

“And you told them all about your perfect attendance and straight A’s?”

“Yes.

I shake my head. “Well then, you know you weren’t the one that started it and now they know and mister McWartsky can go suck it.”

She giggles. “McWatsky.”

“He’s not the one with the weird wart?”

Her mood is instantly restored as she laughs, asking if she could change the station to radio Disney. Sometimes I forget I’m still raising such a girl.

“Hey dad?”

I look over, convinced I was going to be asked about buying a new doll or weird girly thing I didn’t know, or have a stray puppy brought to my attention and ask if we could keep him. Instead, I got her furrowed eyebrows looking up at me, her green eyes pleading. “Promise you won’t get busy this summer?”

My guards come down like a house of stacked cards, taken aback and a bit terrified from how serious and scared she sounded, like she knew for a fact I’d back out from what I planned. Like I’d take back what I said and decide she wasn’t important to me anymore, like she knew that she’d learn what it feels like to not have either parent there.

Stuck at a red light, I lean over and grasp the nape of her neck as I kiss her forehead. I crouch a bit, our eyes leveled. “I promise. And I’m not gonna forget or back out of that promise. Okay?”

She smiles softly before throwing her arms around my shoulders. “Okay.”

There’s a car honking behind us, so I quickly resume my position at the wheel.

“Oh, and can I go to Starbucks with you again tomorrow?”

“Why?”

“That lady was nice. She said she liked my bookbag and my Fuzzle.”

I scrunch my nose. “Your Fuzz-? Oh, the fuzzy ball on the zipper?”

She rolls her eyes at me, as if I was being premature. “It’s called a Fuzzle, dad. It’s not just a fuzzy ball. It’s a fuzz creature.”

Laughing, I rattle her bookbag in her lap. “Whatever you say, boss.”

We cruise down College Avenue as the traffic dies down, Kelsey getting some of her homework done before she got to her grandparents’. I swear, even I couldn’t understand some of the instructions on her assignments, but she made it look like a piece of cake.

“There,” she says, picking up her pencil and plopping it into a pocket in her bag. “Just a few more math problems.”

“That’s my girl. How about some ice cream after I get back?”

She looks up at me excitedly. “Donna’s?”

I nod. “Whatever you want.”

Pulling up into my childhood home, I park in the driveway briefly while I step out and walk her to the door. My mom already had opened the door before I rung the doorbell, warming brightly. Her arms open wide as she crouches down to welcome Kelsey. “There’s my little sugar bear! So sweet you’ll give me a cavity,” she coos, squeezing her tightly.

I chuckle, seeing she was left in good hands and seeing myself off. “I’ll be back after practice.”

“I love you, daddy!”

I turn around, grinning wide with a wave. “Love you, too, sweetheart.”

Unlocking the car, I check the time on my phone and see I have a message from Patrick, our drummer. I send him a quick reply that I was on my way.

It’s not long until I’m in front of the Kirch house and park before finding the group huddled up in the studio room, some setting up equipment, the rest of them lounging on the couch.

“Daddy’s here!” Jared jokes, tipping his beer toward m with a grin. “Fashionably late as always.”

“I was dropping Kels off at my parents’,” I muse, helping Kennedy hook up an amp. He looks up with a welcoming grin. “How is the little champ?”

And so commenced the catching up and dad talk. They always teased me about it since I was the only one that had any kids, and any since anything we talked about always transformed into some sort of story about Kelsey, no matter what the topic was. I guess it was just a tendency parents had, and I wasn’t immune to it.

We fuck around for a bit while guitars get tuned, acting like our usual chimp selves. From then on, it becomes all business as we discuss what we want the next album to sound like, and when we wanted to attempt shooting for a release. I tell them about my promise to keep my schedule cleared during the summer, so we decide to save pre-recording until after the fall and utilize the time to take a short break and allow me to write. It all worked out for the best. Although, that never stopped us from putting out music.

With a few drinks in and a few ideas getting thrown around, there’s talks of possibly putting out another acoustic EP and we get to work, taking some old unfinished songs and warping them into something that could be released.

It’s not until four hours later that I realize that I should already be picking Kelsey up.

“Shit, I have to go,” I mumble, my stomach twisting with the thought of disappointing her before we even made it to summer.

I drive as quickly as I can to make it back. My thoughts linger on coffee for a while, the empty cup from earlier that I really should have thrown out still sitting inside the holder, on my book that provoked a few ideas for the new songs, then on getting to go back with Kelsey tomorrow. Maybe if she got mad at me about the ice cream, Starbucks in the morning could soften her up.

What was I saying? I wasn’t going to just accept the failure and let my daughter not believe in me. I was the one person she counted on. I couldn’t afford to start slipping.

I take a quick detour, heading towards the nearest gas station.

I wouldn’t allow it.

~

Not even turning off the car engine, I jog up the front steps, bag tucked under my arm, and start knocking frantically. My mother opens up and I swallow. “I’m sorry I’m late, I didn’t even realize the time and we…I-Is Kels still up?”

She gives me a sympathetic look. “She fell asleep an hour ago. She tried staying awake, saying that you were taking her somewhere later.”

I clench my jaw, blaming myself for my carelessness. This was supposed to be the time where I could show her she could count on me, not have her staying up with false hope.

Hanging my head, I let the cold bag fall from my arm into my hand. “I told her we’d get ice cream. I was going to make it up to her, I was, I just-Fuck-“

“Sweetie, don’t be so hard on yourself,” she coaxes me. “This doesn’t make you a bad parent. We all have slip ups and can’t keep our promises all the time.”

“But you just don’t know, ma,” I sigh, frustrated. “Today was important.”

There’s a short silence. “I didn’t want to tell you earlier since you seemed in a rush, but you got a letter.”

My skin chilling, I look up to stare at her blankly. “A letter?”

“It was in the mail. No return address. I didn’t want to give it to you out of the blue and just drop a bomb on you for the rest of the day.”

“I-“ The container of ice cream turns my fingers icy, much like how the rest of my body wanted to feel. She was right not to give it to me before. I wouldn’t have been able to stop thinking about it.

“I’m gonna carry Kels to the car,” I mumble, stepping inside to find her, my mom informing me that she was in the living room.

I find her on the couch, using her bookbag as a pillow, her jacket and shoes already on. My heart constricts, feeling like a piece of paper being sent through the shredder. How did this not make me a bad parent? Sure maybe something as small as promising ice cream wouldn’t have mattered on any other day, but not on the day that you make a promise to your daughter that you won’t let her down. Not on a day like today.

Sighing, I let the bag hang from the crook of my arm before throwing her bag onto my shoulder and scooping her up in my arms. It felt like she was three years old again, snoring softly into my shirt and nuzzling her face into the warmth of my neck. She was always feather light, but the weight of disappointment made it feel like a stack of textbooks.

My mother walks me out and holds the door as I look back at her over Kelsey’s head. “Thank you for watching her. As always.”

She smiles gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong, John. Her leaving doesn’t make your mistakes as grave as hers. It doesn’t all have to be a burden on you.”

I lick my lips, averting my eyes. “Do you have the letter?”

“You don’t have to read it, John. You know that, right?”

“I know, Ma. I have to. Just not right now.”

Hesitating for a moment, she sighs and disappears before returning, a simple envelope in her hand. I nearly buckle from staring at her name, so clearly written in her handwriting.

I take it shakily in my hand before stuffing it in my jacket and nodding. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Take care of yourself, sweets.”

Once I’ve placed Kelsey into the back of the car and gotten in myself, I grip the steering wheel, the envelope feeling like burning iron against my chest. I take it out once more, weighing it in my hands and thinking of the pros and cons of opening it now would be.

I could have answers. Or I could not. I could get an answer and hear something I didn’t like. I could regret this whole thing ever happening and resenting my daughter. I could know if she was okay, if it was killing her as much as it was me, or if she could’ve give a single damn. Or even worse, I could read and believe her lies and fall for the false hope of her ever coming back.

My fingertips feel frail as I grip the paper, as if I’d bleed if I got too close to the edges. It was just an excuse to not open it, but it was also good reason not to.

I trace the three letters, convinced they’d cut me, too.

Where the hell did you go, Ava?

[mapplestrudel]

Scenes From Haven: Stars

A/N: @princess-underthemountain asked for 34. “These stars are nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes” from the Writing Prompts For Days, thank you very much, dear Miss Ladybug! :)

So here is some pre-romance fluff for Cullen and Rona at Haven, also available at the AO3.

Tagging the Rona Cheering Squad @element-104, @gwen-cousland, @john-cousland ^_^

Also tagging @ladydracarysao3 because, I don’t know, maybe you’re interested what became of that first line from the First Line Game the other day?

If anybody wants to make another prompt for these two, please go ahead, but be aware that it’ll take ages… ;)

It’s a clear night. Stars and moons are out and throw a silver light on mountains, roofs and trees, while the day’s bustle at Haven has already faded into song and laughter at The Singing Maiden.

Rona and Cullen sit in front of the hut she shares with the head of the Mail Office, Lyssan, as they have done before during the last few days. In front of them a brazier burns and brings light and warmth into the night and to their feet; behind them a few lanterns are hung up for some more light as well.

While Rona is invested in a book on her lap, Cullen has a small stash of reports on his left side which he reads and notes and meticulously puts to his right side once finished. Occasionally he looks over to Mira who lies on her blanket to their feet and chews happily at the ram bone he gave her when he arrived, and she wags her tail each time they share a glance.

It’s a relaxed companionable silence they’ve found to still fall easily into, even after all those years. Of course, there are things unsaid, stories untold, hurts unhealed, but for now, these perch above them, not between them.

Suddenly Rona snorts and starts laughing, and fine lines fold themselves into the corners of her eyes.

Cullen jerks up and almost throws away the parchment in his hands at the sudden outburst. “Maker’s Breath, Fuzzles! What is it?”

“Listen to that!” she giggles and tries to compose herself, unsuccessfully at first, but at last she straightens her back, takes a deep breath in and with serious face and dramatic voice quotes from the book she now holds delicately in her hand with extended pinkie.

“Slowly, he stepped closer, his steel blue eyes fixed on her soft brown ones. Reaching out he dipped her chin a little higher with his finger so he could catch her gaze. ‘These stars are nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes,’ he whispered in a hot breath against her lips, and she forgot how to breathe.”

Ending with her hand thrown at her forehead and her eyes rolled up, Rona stays in pose for a few moments, cocking an eyebrow at Cullen, but he just deadpans and slightly shakes his head: “So? What’s so funny about it?”

She slumps from her pose and huffs indignantly at the obvious ignorance from her friend.

“So? Champ! Nobody talks like this! And who would fall for it anyways? It’s all cheesy and silly and worn-out and…”

Cullen raises an eyebrow at her.

“What?" She laughs. "It’s true! - ”

He smirks, eyes glinting mischievously, and scoots closer on the bench.

“Is that so?” he chuckles and reaches out to lift her chin, catching her stare with his. With conviction he repeats, in a low pitched dramatic timbre:

“These stars are nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes.”

There’s a short breathless moment when she drowns in amber and he’s swept away by the storm, but then he smirks and she cocks an eyebrow and they both roar out in laughter that makes the bench shake and Mira sit up in attention, regarding them with a little confused whine.

“You are right,” he says, as the tide ebbs into an occasional chuckle, “this is ridiculous!” “See?” “But I almost had you!” “Nooo,” Rona stems her arms to the hips. “No you didn’t!” “Did too! Your chin dropped!” “Yeah, because I was about to sneeze!” “Riiiight!” he drawls, mirth dancing in his eyes.

At that she forces a sneeze out and sticks her tongue out at him.

Still chuckling, Cullen gets up and starts to gather his papers that scattered on the ground at their outburst. He picks up a page and muses quietly, more to himself:

“You’ve got no stars in your eyes. They’re more like… hmm,“ he takes a moment to think, looking into the night, then picks up another page, “... like the distilled essence of a summer storm.” Another page. “Brewing clouds in the back” -  another page - “deep thunder above, and” - he walks a few steps and picks up another page - “and sharp flashes whipping through the air. You know” - his eyes sweep the ground in search of more pages - “like the showers we used to get caught in, back at home in…” He sighs and shakes his head, but then a small smile sneaks into his face. “Your eyes almost make me smell the wet grass and feel the mossy bark of the old oak…They’re are quite remarkable, really.” He picks the last astray sheets, and turns around, still focussed on his parchments.

Rona meanwhile sits there with open mouth and wide eyes, book forgotten in her lap. She squints then, cocking her head to the side, and silently mouths: “Wha-?”

But he’s oblivious of her stare as he scans through the pages in his hand, checking if none is missing. Finally he sighs, and pops his shoulders. “It’s late. I’ll better let you go to sleep. Training tomorrow?”

She blinks, as if awaking from deep slumber and clears her suddenly dry throat.

“Uhm… yes! Yes of course! Someone has to teach them properly how not to hurt themselves with the pointy things in their hands!” She winks at him and he does this neck kneading of his she’s been wondering about since she noticed.

“Ha, right! I really appreciate your input, though! It’s good to have them learn how to stand against different fighting styles…. The Inquisition could really use your skills and talents.” A hopeful gleam shines from his eyes, but maybe it was only a flicker of the brazier.

“As does the RFMS. But I’m here for a few more days. They better get the basics right until I leave.”

He nods. “See you tomorrow then. Good night, Fuzzles.”

He leaves, and she stays sitting on the bench, listening to the fading crunch of his steps. Her ears are red and burning, her nose tingling and her whole body feels as light as a feather. Maybe she’s about to get a cold? She scratches her head, unconvinced. Mira merely cocks an eyebrow, huffs and throws a paw above her eyes.

Rona nods, and yawns.

"Exactly."

[mapplestrudel]

Fuzzles and Champ MP

So here is a nifty overview of what my brain has spit out already of the adventures of Rona Norgreen and Cullen Stanton Rutherford. One day this may even become a coherent tale, who knows ;)

Scenes from a Childhood in Honnleath

Chapter 1: The Intruder - tumblr - AO3

Chapter 2: A New Friend - tumblr - AO3

Scenes from Haven 

Stars - tumblr - AO3

Scenes from Skyhold

Night Whispers - tumblr - AO3 - Audio read by me

Hurt - tumblr - AO3

Other Bits

Rona’s Dream (origins!au, rpg!au) - tumblr

[mapplestrudel]

Night Whispers

So this happened and it’s sappy and I regret nothing.

——————–

Night has fallen onto Skyhold, quieting the bustle of the day. The Command tower is dark, its doors locked until dawn. Up at the loft, Rona and Cullen have temporarily fled from reports and responsibilities, seeking respite in cuddles and sleep - him the big spoon, a shield,wrapping himself around her, she reveling in this newly accepted feeling of warmth and home and… “right”. Their minds are half in the Fade, drifting asleep already while Mira lies huddled at their feet, slobbering in blissful dreams.

Suddenly Rona jerks up with wide eyes as if she just had a revelation. She looks at him with opened mouth and slightly furrowed brows. Her mind is ticking, her heart racing.

“Hey Cullen?” she whispers into the night.

“Yes?” he grumbles half asleep and tries to pull her back into his arms - unsuccessfully so, as she sits and looks at him with glistening eyes in the dim light of the lantern that stands beside the bed.

She still does not like the dark.

He half-opens an eye, the amber glint enhanced by the lantern’s flame.

“I love you.” She states matter-of-factly, though with a pinch of surprise.

He closes his eye and chuckles, a sleepy rumble vibrating from his heart into hers. “I know.”

She smiles and settles back into his arms, eyes falling shut again already. “Good.”

Some moments pass, filled only with soft breathing sounds.

Then suddenly Cullen lifts himself up on his side, and now it’s his turn to look wide-eyed. With the gentlest touch he tucks a stray curl behind her left ear. Her weak, almost deaf, left ear. That’s how safe she feels, he realizes, and it makes him proud.

“Rona?” he rumbles, loud enough that Mira’s ears twitch. Still, with her good ear pressed onto the mattress she feels her name more than she hears it, and she smiles and turns around to peck a little kiss on his forehead.

“I know.” she whispers, and Cullen’s heart does an extra jump at the adoration he sees in her eyes.

They settle back in. He wraps as much as he can around her, and places a small kiss at the back of her head, smelling earth and campfire and summer in her curls.

“Good.”

He’s content, happy even. Who would have thought?

A cool breeze dances through the loft, rustling the leaves of the branches peeping through the hole in the roof as the two of them fall into an undisturbed restful sleep for once.

[mapplestrudel]

Scenes from a Childhood in Honnleath - Ch. 2: A New Friend

Ugh! I reached a point where any more stewing wouldn't actually help. So there, a new chapter ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Chapter 1 can be found here. A little fluffy scene from when they’re grown up (at Skyhold) can be found here as text and here as audio

Tagging the Rona Cheering Squad @princess-underthemountain, @element-104, @john-cousland, @gwen-cousland because new chapter ^_^

She is there the next day, sitting in the same spot, not too close to the tree trunk but well within the reach of the old, wide crown, her freckled nose stuck into a book.

He thinks of shooing her away, but as she keeps to herself and doesn’t willingly bother him, he returns to his usual oak business, and tries to find faster climbing paths, builds little boats from what he finds lying around, and carves little templars with the small carving knife, his dad had gifted him last birthday, all the while pretending she isn't there.

Still, he observes her. While dangling on a low branch, he notices when she closes her book and throws it into the grass with a deep sigh of relief. She reaches into her bundle to get out another one, immediately starting to read it. Curious, he lets himself fall into the soft grass and saunters over to her. As he slumps down beside her, she doesn't dignify him with so much as a glance. He picks a blade of grass and starts chewing on it.

“How did you like it?” he asks casually after a while, arms on his knees, looking ahead.

“What?” She looks up with furrowed brows, puts down the book into her lap, and stares at him.

“The book you’ve finished.” There’s a small smirk dancing on his lips as he nods at the discarded item in the grass.

“Oh… I…uhm.. ” Her eyes wander over to it, as she takes a moment to think. “I’m glad it’s over I guess. It was boring, but my mother insisted I should read it. I like this one better.” She pats the book on her lap.

“What's it about then?”

She scrutinizes his face, stopping longer at his eyes and their patient honeybrown gaze, and he notices small muscles twitching as she thinks, until a happy smile sneaks into her face, and she starts shuffling through the pages with eager fingers.

“So you see, there is this girl - here -” she lifts the book so he can see an illustration of a redhaired, freckled girl with two braids sticking out horizontally on both sides of her head - “and, and, and her dad’s a pirate king, and she’s, like, superstrong! She can lift a horse with one hand!”

“That’s strong alright.”

“Yeah, I know, right? … Hm, can you lift a horse?”

“Me? No.” He looks to the ground with a pinch of regret, but then up to her again with proud eyes. “But I lifted this huge pumpkin last year. It was really big, like this!” And he throws out his arms, almost hitting her in his enthusiasm. “Whoops, sorry.”

Unfazed, she nods acknowledgingly. “Ha, not bad. But I bet you wouldn’t stand a chance against her!”

“Well good then, she’s just in the book.” He shrugs with a smile.

“Yeah, maybe…” She looks pensively at the book in her hands, before her enthusiasm bubbles out once more: “Though it would be fun to have her around and go on adventures together!”

He hums agreeingly, but has nothing more to say, and so he doesn’t, and a silence filled only by Nature’s songs wraps itself around them like a warm comforting blanket.

“Did you carve it?” A sudden thought breaks through and she looks at him curiously. “What?” “The pumpkin I mean.” Now it’s her time for a little smirk, and she immediately finds herself face to face with a scar on his hand. “Sure did! I tried a mabari face. Even cut my hand, see?” “Nice.” She nods approvingly. “Yeah! Ma made pumpkin soup and her famous pumpkin pie after.” “Oh I love pie!” “Pie’s awesome! And my Ma’s pumpkin pie is the best.” He’s outright bragging now, but she doesn’t seem to mind, and both sink again into their thoughts, this time of pies, while the wind picks up a little and ruffles through their hair - hers tightly braided to her shoulder blades, with some rogue locks flittering about, his short locks dancing in the breeze.

“So... what’s your name then?” he wonders anew, and breaks her from mouth-watering thoughts.

“What?” “What do people call you?” “Oh. Well…,” she shrugs and huffs a little a self deprecating laugh, “mostly “Stopdoingthat”, I guess?” “That’s a stupid name.” “Yeah well, tell them!” “Who’s them?” “My mother and sister, mainly.” “Oh.” “Do you have siblings?” “Yes! Three actually, 2 sisters and a brother.” “Wow. That sounds… exhausting.” “Yes, well...it sometimes is. Then I’m glad when I can sneak away for a bit.” “So this is your sneakaway place?” He nods. “One of them anyway...”

“It’s awesome.”

“Yup.”

She pauses and looks down, almost whispering her next question. “Can it… can it be my sneakaway place, too?”

She looks up with big grey eyes and he’s stumped for a moment because he finds the brewing storm in the back reflected in them.

“I… um…” Scratching the back of his head, he hinks on her question. He likes to pretend it is his tree alone, but he’s very well aware that it’s not.

“I’ll try not to bother you. You won't even know I’m here!” There’s a pleading tremble in her voice that makes him draw a swift conclusion.

“Alright then. Welcome to your new sneakaway place! Want me to show you around?”

“Yes!”

“Come on then!” He jumps up and starts running. “Last one at the tree is a loser nug!”

They race to the tree, he wins only at an arm’s length because she first stored her books away in her bundle. She sticks out her tongue at him when she reaches the trunk. Shrugging nonchalantly, he leans against it and folds his hands to give her a boost up.

They settle down in the crutch she had occupied the other day. Looking into the countryside with dangling feed, he explains what can be seen, and she listens, sucking in all the information like a sponge. There’s the market, there’s the smithy, the chantry, his house can be seen, too, and oh, that house over there? It’s where old Mrs. Winters lives and her apple pie is just as famous as Ma’s pumpkin pie...

Her head is reeling with information when he’s finished, but she doesn’t feel like a complete stranger anymore. Lightning flashes and thunder pounds through the air, and they look at the spectacle unfolding.

“I’m really sorry I yelled at you…” he muses into a fading thunder. “ I just… I had a fight with my brother and it was completely my fault… and.. well…”

“... you needed to stew on it in peace?“

“... exactly…”

“I see… I’m sorry I disturbed your stewing.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know. And now this is your sneakaway place, too, so… Never mind…”

He shrugs and smiles at her, and she smiles back and once more they settle into the bliss of a comfortable silence, each hanging in their own thoughts, while enjoying the other’s company. The first rain drops start to fall then and scent the air with summer freshness.

“You still haven’t told me your real name, you know?”

“Oh… yes… uhm…” She extends her hand, smiling brightly. “I’m Rona.”

He returns the shake and the smile. “I’m Cullen. Nice to meet you, Rona.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Cullen.”

By then the clouds open their gates. They climb down carefully, wait out the strongest of the shower’s wrath, and run home in the aftermath’s drizzle. Both are wet to the bone when they arrive, but both are vibrating with a fuzzy feeling of new beginnings they cannot fully grasp.

[mapplestrudel]

Tumblr apparently ate the file I uploaded yesterday (I hope it was tasty...), so here’s a re-upload of this litte fluffy thingy I wrote which can be found here to read along.

@john-cousland @element-104 @princess-underthemountain

Maybe you’re interested, too, @dragonagethistle?

[mapplestrudel]

It’s @becausedragonage’s Fandom Friday and I’d like to share my Dragon Age mind child Rona.

She’s the first OC I’ve been this obsessive about and that’s a whole new and creativity inducing experience which I’m very grateful for!

The pics are watercolour paintings by the wonderful @merrillydoodles who I highly recommend to commission ^_^

Basic Information name: Rona Norgreen nickname: Fuzzles race: human gender: female status: alive date of birth: 9:11 Dragon place of birth: tba class: rogue | double daggers specialization: n/a (maybe Assassin later)

Love & Religion sexual orientation: demisexual romance interests: Cullen belief: andrastian upbringing; not practising.

Appearance hair: auburn, curly, short eye color: storm grey complexion: lightly tanned, freckled height: 1.70 m build: wiry, compact misc: ring of scar tissue around neck; left ear shredded (and deaf); several other scars

Personality reserved curious sceptical defiant loyal and bubbly once her trust is gained ISTP

A free spirit, Rona had to endure several confinements in her life before a wink of questionable luck brought her to the Royal Fereldan Mail Service and thus, to the not yet Breach illuminated village of Haven.

Rona has got me into writing, and there’s 2 litte pieces so far (though there’s more in my head which I hope to get out sooner or later...^_^):

The Intruder (Scenes from Childhood in Honnleath - tumblr, AO3) Night Whispers (Fluff at Skyhold - tumblr, AO3, audio version)

Thank you @becausedragonage for giving us the opportunity to share our mind childs! I’m looking forward to see the others :D

[mapplestrudel]

Scenes from a Childhood in Honnleath - Ch. 1: The Intruder

[A/N: Okay, so this is as good a first chapter as I can manage. It is not betaed, but I decided to not worry and not make a “serious fic” of Rona’s story - I don’t even have a fancy name yet… O_o So whatever follows, might be just scenes, drabbles, dialogue, bla, though I hope to keep some semblance of chronology. That being said, I’m still proud of this headchild of mine ^_^ ]

~~~~~ * ~~~~~

(Honnleath, 9:21 Dragon)

“Hey! That’s my tree!”

The sandy haired, maybe 10 years old boy cannot believe his eyes which are now narrowed to honey coloured slits. He’s had a fight with his brother, and mother send them both away to calm down. He just wants to be alone and sulk, but somebody had the audacity to climb up the old oak tree - his tree! - and made themselves comfortable in his favourite crutch!

“/Your/ tree?” a small voice pipes unbelievingly from above.

“Yes! /My/ tree! Now get down and leave me alone!”

“But it’s surely large enough for two people?” the voice tries again.

And of course it is! This oak is older than he can imagine, a solitary tree with a wide reaching crown. He just doesn’t want to be around people at the moment.

“No it’s not!” he shouts stubbornly. “Take off!”

“But…”

“No buts. Get lost already!”

He sees the intruder putting something into a bundle before finally climbing down the gnarled branches in fluid movements. Whoever it is, seems to have climbed their share of trees, and he cannot help but secretly acknowledge the shown skill.

Impatiently he waits at the foot of the trunk, kicking at rocks and last year’s acorns, and hitting the grass with a twig while his mind is still at working through the fight. “It was his fault!” he mumbles under his breath and wipes his nose with his sleeve.

He is so absorbed in his thoughts, that he startles a bit as with a thump somebody lands beside him. It’s a girl, his age approximately, and dressed in a summer attire similar to his, grey flap trousers, a half clean cotton shirt, bare feet. Her auburn​ hair is held in a shoulder long, sloppy braid some curls have escaped from.

She throws him an angry look from greyish eyes and huffs indignantly. Without another word she stalks off, a green bundle hanging over her shoulders.

With a sigh of relief, the boy starts climbing his tree, focussing on the rugged feeling of the moss and lichen covered bark, and the familiar pattern of the branches he has climbed so often. A slight breeze whispers through the leaves with the sunlight, ruffling through his hair. And when he reaches his favourite crutch, looking far into the countryside with fields and roofs and clouds, his anger has almost dissipated.

It flares up a bit again, however, when he sees the strange girl sitting not too far from the tree, reading a book. Why is she still here? She should have left, as he had told her!

But then a pang of embarrassment hits him and he blushes as he thinks of his behaviour. He should apologize, he knows. Maker, he can almost hear his mother telling him to apologize! Still, he’s not yet ready to admit it. Maybe later. Maybe he’ll also ask what she is reading.

Later then.

But she’s gone when he finally climbs down and heads back home as the sunset paints the blue sky in bright hues of red and orange.