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feynites · 7 years

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I did more Modern Werewolves aka Modern Fen’Sulahn Kel x Olwyn AU! Tagging @justanartsysideblog for it! <3

Kel means to take it slow with the Sexy Biker Lady, she really does.

Rebounds are not generally her thing. They just don’t seem to have a lot of appeal – although, admittedly, she hasn’t been dumped that many times. So maybe they are, and she just hasn’t had the opportunity to realize it before?

But it’s not as if she calls Olwyn up straight away. The number sits in her phone for a few days, as she more or less resumes business as usual. As usual as it can be, all things considered. She walks her new beat a few more nights without much incident. The streets are quiet. She sees the weird owl she’d noticed the first night a few more times, but it seems perfectly content to lurk in the trees around The Den apartment building, glaring disgruntledly at Kel while she checks the alleyways next to the building for any stray…

Dogs, she supposes.

Or drunks.

Drunk dogs.

Wildlife isn’t really her jurisdiction, though, and stray pets and cosplayers(?) only barely are.

The more time she gives it, the more she can sort of convince herself that the people she saw were just in really, really nice costumes. Drunken costume enthusiasts. Who looked very realistic because of the… lighting, probably.

After a few more rounds, Kel decided to make it a point to swing by during the day, too. The south side of the city has not had a good relationship with the police force. And, people aren’t always out at night, unless they have a reason to be. Walking around a little during the day, out of her uniform, might make her seem like more of a familiar face. Get people to feel less anxious about approaching her, if they actually need help.

So, she puts on a pair of jeans and one of her favourite shirts, checks the weather and figures it’s sunny enough to forgo a jacket, and heads down.

Then she just… goes for a walk.

The neighbourhoods are obviously friendlier during the day. Shops are open, and windows are open, too, to try and mitigate some of the heat rising up off of the concrete. She can hear music playing, spilling out to the streets from cars and apartments. A garage not far from The Den is open, sending the whirring sounds of machine work out, along with what sounds like classical Nevarran music. Next to it is what looks like the bastard lovechild of a hardware store and a sporting goods outlet, with some kids out front sitting at a lemonade stand, selling cups of the stuff to help buy costumes for their school play.

Ostensibly, anyway.

Kel drops some change into their jar and accepts a little styrofoam cup of pink lemonade, and has to fight not to make a terrible face when the obscene sweetness of it hits her tongue. She waits until she’s a block away and out of sight to ditch the rest of it, where the kids can’t see, and then heads into a nearby convenience store to buy a bottle of water to wash the cloying taste out of her mouth.

She’s opening the cooler door when she spies a familiar face, standing in front of a rack of fashion magazines. Dressed in a different leather jacket, and with her hair tied back, but Kel only needs a glance to make the connection anyway.

“Oh!” she blurts.

Olwyn turns around, and then smiles at her with pleased surprise.

“Officer! I thought I smel… uh, saw, um, saw someone familiar,” she replies, stuttering a little. Reaching up, she pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head, and clears her throat.

Tongue tied?

Kel feels a butterfly or two start to flutter in her stomach.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” she offers. “I was just going for a walk around the neighbourhood.”

Olwyn nods.

“I heard,” she admits.

Kel raises her eyebrows, as she pulls out her water bottle.

“I mean, I live near here,” Olwyn admits. “Gossip gets around. I heard there was a new cop…” she shrugs.

“Ah,” Kel allows. “I guess I’ve been around enough, people have started to notice.”

Olwyn chuckles a little.

“Uh, yeah,” she says. “Don’t take it the wrong way. We had some bad experiences…”

“I know,” Kel assures her, fiddling with the water bottle a little. “That’s kind of why I’m wandering around, to be honest. I’m not dirty. Well, not in – um. Not in that sense.”

Olwyn raises an eyebrow.

Kel clears her throat and bravely barrels on. Olwyn probably doesn’t want to know what kind of dirty she is. Not right now, anyway, in the middle of the a convenience store, when they haven’t even gone on one date, and Kel is absolutely not going to be the kind of creepy person who propositions someone inbetween a magazine rack and a cooler after meeting them a grand total of once before.

…Gods this is perilously like the time she threw her phone at Solas.

When did she become this bad at flirting?

“I’m not particularly by the book, either,” she hastily asserts, trying to move on. “I mean, I am when it matters, when it comes to filing reports that need to be filed and dotting my I’s and crossing my T’s, I kind of have to be, I can’t really afford to give the precinct an excuse to get rid of me. Uh, not that that’s – anyways, the point is I’m usually only by-the-book when I feel compelled to throw it at someone, and the kinds of people I throw the book at are just… assholes, mostly. Criminal-criminals.”

She clears her throat again.

Olwyn smiles at her.

“Good to know,” she says.

They stand in the aisle for a minute, staring at one another, until Kel’s throat starts itching, and she remembers what she came in for in the first place.

She holds up the water bottle demonstratively.

“I should probably pay for this, and not just stand around holding it,” she says.

Olwyn nods in understanding, and then shifts from one foot to the other. She bites her bottom lip, and follows Kel up to the register.

“It’s around noon,” she blurts, after a minute. “Did you have any plans for lunch? Because I know a place. If you want people to get used to seeing you around, helping local businesses probably wouldn’t hurt. And they make really good steak sandwiches.”

“Uh…” Kel intelligently replies.

“No pressure!” Olwyn declares, raising a hand and waving a little. Right when her stomach lets out a very distinctive gurgle.

Kel blinks.

Olwyn’s cheeks darken.

“…I was maybe headed in that direction anyway, too,” she admits. “Had to skip breakfast.”

“I could eat,” Kel’s mouth decides, before her brain has completely caught up. She swallows, and wonders if it’s really a good idea – but she genuinely likes Olwyn, more and more by the minute, it seems. And it’s just lunch. It’s not like…

It’s just lunch.

“You parked anywhere?” Olwyn asks.

“Nah. I took the bus,” Kel admits. “Didn’t want to bring the squad car today.”

Olwyn smiles a little, as she finally pays the store clerk, and takes a swig from her water bottle.

“Ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle before?” she wonders.

“Once,” Kel admits. “My college roommate had one, for all of a week. She was already trying to sell it by the time we met, though, so I don’t have much experience.”

“Well, we’re not going far. We can walk if you’d prefer not to try it,” Olwyn offers.

“I never said I wouldn’t do it again,” Kel counters.

The motorcycle is parked not far from the store. Olwyn only has one helmet, though, and despite offering to let Kel wear it and assuring her that ‘it’s fine’ otherwise, Kel declines. The last thing she needs is to get into an accident, and cause the death of someone just because they were more blithe about helmet safety than they should have been. Olwyn doesn’t take offense, at least, and the walk to the restaurant ends up being pretty pleasant. They make odd small talk before Olwyn directs her towards an old, grey brick building, with a vividly painted sign out front proclaiming it to be ‘Ess’ Place’.

When Olwyn opens the door, the scents that come wafting out of it make Kel’s own stomach start to rumble.

“Detective!” someone by the door greets, in a bubbly, cheerful voice.

Kel blinks, and is just about ready to correct a stranger on her rank, when she realizes the comment was directed at Olwyn. A small elf with bubblegum pink hair skips up and hugs Olwyn, as she laughs a little.

“Lath,” Olwyn greets. “Isn’t it your day off?”

“Eh, I’m covering shifts for Squish. She got an interview for some security work,” Lath declares. “Come in, come in! You want your usual lunch order? Who’s the pretty lady? Did you get a new girlfriend? Is she from Uptown or our neck of the woods? Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, we have new specials! A new supplier opened up in City Central, and we finally got good salmon! Do you like salmon? Does your friend like salmon? Ess made me salmon mousse last night, it was delicious, but it’s not on the menu yet. We have other new things, though! Like duck! And vegetarian options, but our vegan selection is still tiny. Is your friend vegan? Does she have any food allergies?”

Kel blinks as she finds herself hustled over to a table by one of the restaurant windows, all while the tiny pink elf keeps up a running commentary, bouncing a bit with each step.

“I’m… uh, no, I’m good,” she manages, responding to the last couple of questions.

“Okay!” Lath chirps. “I’ll go get you some menus! Stay right put!”

Kel lets out a breath, settles into her seat. The chairs are comfortable, at least. And the inside of the restaurant is beautifully vibrant, covered in all kinds of artwork and photographs on the walls. A few of the photos even seem to be of Olwyn herself, although it’s hard to tell at a distance.

“I take you’re a regular?” she jokes, as Olwyn pulls off her jacket. Her arms are bare underneath; the tops covered in a fine dusting of freckles, and they look pretty strong.

“I’ve come here a couple times before,” Olwyn wryly concedes, boots thumping a bit as she slides into her own chair. “Sorry. Lath is… uh. Energetic.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” Kel assures her. “Though… did she call you detective…?”

Olwyn blinks, brought up short for a minute, before she coughs.

“Sorry. I didn’t even think about it. It’s a nickname,” she says. “Lots of people around her call me that. It’s sort of an in-joke. I technically have a Private Investigator’s license, but I don’t put up advertisements or really take clients or anything. Still, sometimes people come to me with their problems, so… it’s kind of a joke that stuck.”

A private investigator? Kel thinks back to when they first met at the police station, and can’t help a trickle of suspicion. Nothing really heavy, of course, but… maybe she should find Officer Peril, and ask a few questions of her own.

She puts it away for now, in any case.

“So what do you do for a living?” she wonders. “If you don’t mind me asking. My job’s kind of already on the table.”

Olwyn smiles.

“To be honest, I do a lot of things,” she admits. “Odd jobs. Dog-walking, pet grooming, housesitting. I have some veterinary training, and some certifications homeopathy and dream therapy. I used to have a bar, or, well, some friends and I did, but it… went under. And I-”

Whatever career path is next on the list gets interrupted, though, as Lath brings them their menus; and then they’re interrupted once again, as a perfectly stunning elf approaches their table, in Lath’s wake.

Kel blinks.

The man – at a guess – has long, dark hair, and is wearing a fashionable silk shirt with a slightly mesmerizing print on it. At his side is a very large, white purse, and in the purse is a very small, grumpy looking little dog, with a single, silver bow on the top of its head.

“Detective?” the man asks.

“Beauty!” Olwyn exclaims, and for a moment, Kel wonders if she isn’t just being particularly descriptive. But, no, that seems to be the man’s name, as he inclines his head. Olwyn gets up, and exchanges a hug with him.

The little dog makes some small, grumpy near-growl noises, and sniffs in Kel’s direction.

“You’re back!” Olwyn notes, when she pulls out of the hug again. “You didn’t call me, I would have come to get you at the airport!”

“I appreciate that. But my bags might have been a bit much for your motorcycle, and Marassal was already there,” Beauty replies. Then he looks towards Kel, at last.

“Who is your friend?” he asks.

“Oh!” Olwyn says, sliding back into her seat. “This is Kel. Kel, this is Beauty. He lives in my building, we’ve been friends for a very long time. Actually, he was a co-owner of that bar I mentioned. He has a new one now, though, all his own.”

A friend, hm? She finds herself hoping that he’s not competition. Her looks are nothing to sneeze at, but every detail of this man is stunning in a way that’s difficult to concretely describe.

“Pleased to meet you,” Beauty greets.

“Likewise. You might see me around,” Kel tells him. “I’m the new beat cop.”

Up go Beauty’s eyebrows.

“Really?” he asks, looking at Olwyn. “Another police officer?”

Olwyn laughs, a little self-consciously. The little dog sneezes, which draws Beauty’s attention down towards his companion.

“Oh, dear,” he says. “I should get Gra’mi home. She hates flying, and I think she is still having some stress over it. My poor little guard dog, yes, my best little guard dog.” Reaching into his bag, Beauty pulls his tiny beast out, and nestles her up against his chest instead. Kel’s not an expert on dogs, admittedly, but Gra’mi seems quite satisfied with this state of affairs, as Beauty fusses over her all the way out.

Once they’re alone again, Kel looks at Olwyn.

“What did he mean, ‘another police officer’?” she wonders.

Olwyn clears her throat, and takes a sip from her water glass.

“My, uh, ex-boyfriend,” she says. “We dated about a year ago. He was on the force. But hey, look, the menus are here!”

Kel knows a diversion when she hears one, and given her own circumstances, she’s sympathetic to the concept of not wanting to talk about exes.

But…

“What was his name?” she can’t help but wonder, as Olwyn picks up the menu, and holds it up. And then, after a second, lets out a long sigh.

“Cullen,” she answers. “Cullen Rutherford.”

Oh.

Kel… Kel knows that name. Officer Stannard’s former partner. The one who was discovered to have templar ties, to have been implicated in a shooting that left three people dead, just outside the city limits. The case had always felt weird to Kel. Not that she didn’t think Rutherford was good for it – he and Stannard had a reputation that was pretty dark even by their precinct’s standards, and his templar ties looked genuinely airtight. He’d always been affable whenever she passed him by the water cooler, and she’d met his sister once. Nice woman. But that stuff didn’t always mean anything, when it came down to corruption.

No, what bothered her was that Stannard had walked away, somehow squeaky clean and free despite having been present at the scene, too. The official word was that she’d been knocked on her ass before the shooting began. Had tried to talk Cullen down, from a distance, but hadn’t been able to de-escalate the situation before it all went south.

Kel had met Meredith. She didn’t buy it.

But she couldn’t prove anything based on suspicion alone, and the case was never hers to touch.

“I’m sorry,” she offers, after a minute.

Olwyn’s head tips a little further down behind her menu.

“I didn’t break up with him,” she says, quietly. “I wouldn’t have. I know it didn’t… go down like how they said it did. He was good for some stuff, yeah, but, he was getting clean. He was getting his life together. We were. I promised I would wait for him, but he told me not to bother. Said he was tired of me and my – of dealing with my ‘extra baggage’.”

Olwyn’s voice turns rueful and pained. She swallows, and Kel’s heart squeezes.

Rutherford’s a fucking tool.

“Well, fuck him,” she mutters.

Olwyn lets out a gusty sigh, and then shakes her head. “No. He had every right to feel that way about it. Anyway! We didn’t come here to talk about that. Menu! I’d recommend anything that catches your eye, to be honest, the food here’s always good.”

The prices, surprisingly, look pretty good, too. Kel takes the hint and forces her inner investigator to let the matter go, for now, as she peruses the options instead. On Lath’s suggestion, she decides to try the salmon burgers, while Olwyn orders one of the aforementioned steak sandwiches. The food actually is good – and plentiful – when it finally arrives. Lath delivers their plates with a flourish, and then settles a tiny vase with a collection of pink and red flowers onto the middle of their table, too.

The plucky server offers Olwyn a wink, before skipping off again.

“You ever get the feeling like you’re being set up?” Kel jokes, looking at the flowers. They look an awful lot like the flowers growing in rows out in front of the restaurant. And some of them still have roots attached.

Olwyn sighs.

“The perils of knowing most people in town,” she jokes. “This is… just lunch, though. Friendly lunch. No pressure.”

“No pressure at all,” Kel agrees.

There is a moment of awkwardness. She thinks that’s probably inevitable, though, because it’s not like she hasn’t noticed Olwyn noticing her. And she doubts that Olwyn hasn’t noticed Kel’s own noticing, too. They regard each other across the table for a moment, before Kel reaches over, and pluck one of the flowers up out of the vase. She breaks off half the stem, and then tucks it behind her ear.

“There,” she says. “Cheerful decorations all around.”

Olwyn smiles, a very pleasant sort of smile, and Kel thinks to herself that it’s pleasant enough to enjoy for its own sake. Then she lifts up her steak sandwich, and further awkward conversation is halted by the sounds of companionable dining.

Just lunch.

When they’re finished, though, Kel thinks that maybe she should come back again another day. In a week. Or less than a week.

Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe they can have lunch again, then, too.

Too fast? she wonders, when they finish splitting the bill. Well, it’s not like you’re inviting her back to your place.

She kind of wants to, though.

Inwardly, she sighs at herself.

Kelvallastheneras, you are a mess.

#modern werewolves au #modern fen'sulahn #fen'sulahn au #kel x olwyn

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justanartsysideblog · 7 years

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Kel and Olwyn Pacific Rim AU or Sports Anime AU?

Pacific Rim AU

(Oh man, Pacific Rim is one of my favorite movies, this is perfect. Kel belongs to @feynites)

Olwyn hasn’t been in a Jaeger for years. Not since the battle with kaiju that left one of her brothers dead and the other in a coma. Too reckless, Falon’Din had always been too reckless and eager to fight, and she’d gone along with it.

But Marshal Victory Elvhen has tracked her down, and wants her to rejoin the fight for Thedas’ survival...and that means getting back into a Jaeger.

With someone that isn’t her brothers.

It won’t work, she knows. Not when she can still feel her brother dying inside her skull, and the empty void where Dirthamen still sleeps, unable to awaken after the neural load had nearly sent all three to the bottom of the ocean.

But Marshal Victory thinks she’s ready, and he’s had her old Jaeger rebuilt, revamped, and refitted for two pilots instead of three, a punch to the gut and a reminder of her failure.

The world is ending...and she can’t deny that if she’s going to die, she’d rather do it fighting.

She looks over the list of potential co-pilots for Dread Wolf, and her eyes catch on the small photo. A name so long and complicated it barely fits in the provided space, too big a name for someone who is only about 5 ft. But there’s a determination in that gaze that makes Olwyn pause.

Kel, huh?

#pacific rim au #kelwyn #kel #olwyn #modern fen'sulahn #Anonymous #cinn replies #answered ask

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justanartsysideblog · 7 years

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Werewolf AU

@feynites sorry I haven’t finished the werewolf au doodle I’ve been working on, so have an aesthetic collage instead. XD

#werewolf au #modern fen'sulahn #olwyn #kel #kelwyn #I may or may not be making a playlist #I'm in too deep #XD

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justanartsysideblog · 7 years

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so @feynites a long time ago you asked for a werewolf au and my brain decided modern Fen’Sulahn au, and then went: you know what would make it better? motorcycles. I don’t have anything concrete written yet but here’s Olwyn and a motorcycle I spent way too long on. XD

#werewolf au #modern fen'sulahn #olwyn #fen'sulahn #fen'sulahn's wolfpack is a bunch of bikers #but like...the bikers that go with kids to court to face their attackers #and come over when they're scared to fight off creeps

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justanartsysideblog · 6 years

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Old God, New Tricks

Old Dog Sanctuary AU

I finally managed to finish the first part of the Old Dog Sanctuary AU! I’m sorry this took so long, writer’s block has not been kind. This is mostly just setting the scene for what’s to come, but I hope you enjoy!

This version of Dirthamen, Fear, and Deceit (mention) belong to @feynites.

Eda (mention) belongs to @palindromekomori.

Olwyn's alarm goes off at 4am and it takes all her willpower not to turn it off and roll back over. Her blankets seem especially warm and inviting this morning, and one of the sanctuary dogs is curled up at the foot of her bed and it would be cruel to wake them, wouldn't it?

But then she feels something pecking at her head and sighs.

Fear is not going to let her sleep in.

“I'm up,” She grumbles, reaching up a hand to pat the raven that's tugging on her curls. She tries her hardest not to disturb her bedmate—correction bedmates, there's two other dogs sprawled out on the other side of the bed—as she crawls out from under the covers in the darkness of early morning.

The dogs barely stir as she fumbles into a pair of jeans; one lifts her head, lets out a tired boof, and settles back down. Lucky girl, Olwyn thinks wryly, pulling on a pair of socks.

First things first...time to feed the dogs.

It's almost mechanical, as she fills food bowls on the porch, deftly maneuvering around wiggling bodies as the dogs crowd around her feet. The early autumn air is cool, especially this high up in the mountains, but nothing a sweatshirt won't fix; it'll warm up by early afternoon anyway. She administers the proper medicine to the ones that need it, and then heads out to the kennels to feed the rest, Fear flying overhead to perch atop the old barn beams.

Some days are harder than others.

The dogs keep her from drifting; from slipping into uthenera where she doesn't need to feel the guilt of all she's done and left undone. The world doesn't need her anymore, and it was getting harder and harder to keep awake. But the dogs help. If she does not get up in the morning no one will be there to feed them, or give them their medicine.

She needs the dogs as much as they need her.

And then, of course, there are the wolves.

Olwyn doesn't own the mountain, per se—such a strange concept, when thousands of years ago she had, and had no need for deeds to show it. She has a rather gargantuan chunk of land in her name though, enough that some would call it a nature reserve rather than a private residence. And even the parts of it she doesn't own are heavily warded and legally are counted as a national forest. It keeps the loggers away, and Haurshos keeps away the rest.

She's always felt responsible for the wolves, with the steady decline of their numbers; it isn't their fault they're associated with a disgraced god. There's a few packs in the area that she'd introduce to the mountain; enough territory between them to keep them all satisfied and out of each others' hair...and away from the locals in the towns on the eastern side of the Hunterhorns.

Not all of the wolves sent her way are those that can make it in the wild. Some were pets, or rescued from haphazard zoos and exotic animal shops; wolves that were raised as dogs until the owners saw that they wouldn't be cute and cuddly and domesticated the way they wanted, or wolf hybrids that people thought were tame enough to keep as pets, only to learn otherwise.

People know to call her when there's a wolf problem, and all the local vets have her number.

The wolves remind her of Adahlan's hounds to a painful degree. They remind her of her Emerald Knights, and of their namesake that emerged when the Dalish held onto the remnants of culture that had been stolen from them through no fault of their own.

She tried her hardest to help, and failed all the same. At least she can give the wolves a fighting chance.

Olwyn steps into the 'wolf barn' and immediately finds herself the recipient of several enthusiastic greetings. Mossfur, the resident alpha male of the domestic pack, trots forward and gives a play bow, tail wagging.

Olwyn laughs, “Should we play for a bit?”

---

The first thing she notices when she enters the kitchen two hours later is that she's out of coffee.

Olwyn lets out a small, defeated sigh as she looks down at the empty coffee canister. She thought she'd bought some on her last trip into town, but apparently she'd forgotten to pick it up. This is why you should make lists, she thinks. Maybe she hadn't had a coupon for any at the time, and had thought she'd be able to stretch her stores until then.

The sanctuary is closed today, which means Eda won't be coming in. She can't call her and ask her to pick some up with the cleaning supplies she'll be bringing tomorrow morning.

It isn't that Olwyn likes being alone. She's always been a social person, and isolation can be suffocating at times. But seeing the passage of time, walking among those that live and die because of her own folly...that is worse. It chips away at her, bit by bit.

It's hard, especially when her brother sleeps. Isolation suits him more than it does her, and so does silence. The span of time between his visits varies, and each time a bit of her thinks he is not going to wake up this time. She knows better, of course. They are two parts of a whole, and he would not leave her, not after everything they've lived through and done.

Their brother is dead, Dirthamen would not subject her to that loss a second time.

Still, it is...it is maddening, to not know, even with either Fear or Deceit flitting around, making certain she has physical reassurance of Dirthamen's presence. But it is not the same as seeing her brother sitting at the kitchen table, clipping coupons from the newspaper as rain pelts against the windowpane.

Fear catches on to her thoughts, and lands on her shoulder and begins to preen.

“I'm heading into town,” Olwyn decides, “You're in charge while I'm gone, Fear, but no answering the telephone, you know what happened last time.” Fear glances at her, the picture of feigned innocence, and Olwyn shakes her head as she heads for the front door, grabbing her keys as she goes.

She finds Hopper, a ten-year-old bloodhound, lounging in a patch of sunlight on the porch. His tail begins to wag when he spots her, thumping loudly against the wood. She always takes one of the dogs with her when she goes into town; it's a nice little adventure for them, to go somewhere new, and to meet other people aside from herself and Eda.

“Wanna come to town with me, hm?” Olwyn asks, and is rewarded with an increase in tail wags and thumps, before Hopper gets to his feet and slowly follows her off the porch.

“Here we go,” She lifts the old bloodhound into the passenger's seat of her jeep and gives his ears an idle scratch, earning a slobbery kiss in return.

The small town of Haven is a forty five minute drive down the mountain. It's got one main street and a population in the triple digits; she's lucky it's even got a local grocery store and a post office.

It's become a bit of a tourist trap as of late, due to the old ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Someone had thought it would be good for business to make a historic sector, with everyone in period dress from the Dragon Age; it's a bit tacky, and more than a little historically inaccurate, but it means that every summer there's an upswell of visitors, and far too many souvenir shops. There'd even been talk of putting in a hotel to handle the growing seasonal crowds.

There are lots of things she can't get at the local grocery, of course. Supplies for the dogs, medicine, clothes...for that she takes a day trip to Redcliffe. But all she needs is coffee today.

So Haven it is.

Hopper gives a low woof and leans his head out the window as Olwyn pulls away from the house and down the long and winding driveway to the main road. Getting radio reception this far up the mountain is hit or miss, so after a minute or so of hiccup-y static she turns it off and drives the rest of the way in silence.

There's very little traffic this time of year, and plenty of empty parking spots along the main street. Olwyn manages to snag one right in front of the general store, and comes around to the other side to help Hopper out, and is greeted with another kiss that has her smiling brightly as she walks into the store.

The bell at the front jingles, and Seggrit, the owner, looks up with a surprised smile, “Serah Olwyn! What a pleasant surprise!”

“I needed some caffeine,” Olwyn holds up a coffee canister from the nearby shelf, “So I thought I'd make a short run into town.” She glances around and picks up a coke and a bag of barbecue chips before placing it all on the counter.

Seggrit nods, “Just be sure to steer clear of the main square on your way back, unless you want to get dragged into Grand Chancellor Roderick's latest tirade.”

Olwyn tries to hide her grimace as she watches Seggrit ring up her items. She and Grand Chancellor Roderick were not on good terms. With such a small community, it was very obvious who worshiped the Maker and who didn't, and her absence at Chantry gatherings is noted and remarked upon frequently.

There is also the fact that Grand Chancellor Roderick had strongly railed against her wolf sanctuary. He said it was too close to Haven, and that the wild beasts were dangerous and would only cause trouble. He'd cited several over-inflated and easily refuted stories of wolf attacks in Ferelden, and the rising number of tourists during the summer months. There'd been about five town meetings and several petitions, but in the end enough of the residents of Haven had refused to take his outcry seriously.

Olwyn has a feeling the majority of them were apathetic, and had taken Olwyn's side for the simple reason that she hadn't gone door to door trying to get residents to sign a petition for the local government to take action.

Besides, Olwyn has all the proper paperwork and licenses needed, none of the sanctuary wolves had ever escaped the grounds or had any reason to, and the wild nature reserve packs don't come anywhere near the local towns. They and Olwyn have an understanding, and the wards keep them as safe from people as they do the people from the wolves.

People can be far more dangerous.

“Who is the current target?” Olwyn asks, reaching down a hand to scratch Hopper behind the ears.

“Flissa,” Seggrit shakes his head, “He's mad she won't close The Singing Maiden on Sundays.”

Olwyn finds herself shaking her head as well. Chancellor Roderick can be persistent, she'll give him that. Still, she hopes nothing comes of it; Flissa always has dog treats to give out when Olwyn stops in for a drink. “Some people aren't happy unless they're complaining about something. Thanks for the warning.”

Seggrit nods as he closes the register and pauses, “Hey, when is that brother of yours visiting again?”

Olwyn blinks, trying to shove down the hollow feeling that comes when she’s reminded of his absence. “I'm not sure. He's been busy with his research.”

Seggrit shrugs, “Just wanted to ask. Last year my cousin came to visit for the summer and won't shut up about him. She keeps asking me if I know if he'll be back next year.”

Olwyn grins, “I'll be sure to tell him he has an admirer. See you next time, Seggrit.”

---

The drive back to the sanctuary is a little more lively than the drive down the mountain. Olwyn puts on an old CD—Eda has commented that Olwyn's taste in music is, to put it kindly, dated—and Hopper drools out the window, and Olwyn only has to stop once; a small herd of deer comes bounding out of the trees severl yards up, but she's going slow enough that she has time to slow without slamming on the brakes, and Hopper's tail thumps against her arm as his nose twitches and he watches the deer disappear back into the forest.

She lets Hopper down from the Jeep, and heads into the kitchen to start some much-deserved coffee. Fear is in the living room, watching reruns of an old tv show that Olwyn's forgotten the name of. Fear doesn't seem too interested, but when he spots Olwyn he flies to the counter and lets out a loud greeting.

“Just taking a small break before I go clean the kennels,” Olwyn explains, throwing a few pieces of bread in the toaster. She contemplates making some scrambled eggs, but decides against it. “Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

It's meant as a joke, so she's surprised when Fear squawks a yes and flies into the front office. Olwyn follows, intrigued. Fear hops down next to the phone, and Olwyn sees the answering machine light flash.

A message? She presses the button, and heads back into the kitchen to check on her toast. The recording filters in as she grabs the butter from the fridge.

“Hello, I am Keeper Deshana, of Clan Lavellan. I was given this number to call by Keeper Marethari, of Clan Sabrae. A wolf has been spotted within our reservation, and I fear it is becoming used to people and will soon come into contact with my clan. I would like to see what could be done for it, as it seems to be without a pack, and I was told you were the leading authority for such things...”

There isn't much more; a mention that Keeper Deshana is calling from a landline from one of the few permanent structures on their lands, and that she will be staying for several days, to wait for Olwyn's response, and the number to call to contact, just in case Olwyn doesn't have caller ID.

It's an interesting situation.

Lone wolves in the wild are rarer than most people think. They are pack animals by nature, and it is dangerous and counter-intuitive to their survival to go at it alone. But if it is the case and there is a pack within the area of Clan Lavellan's lands, then the lone wolf would likely be driven closer to the populated areas of the reservation in order to avoid an aggressive alpha. It happens sometimes; an omega wolf or a sickly alpha wolf that can no longer lead its pack may be picked on or physically challenged to the point of leaving the group. Especially when food is scarce, the weaker wolves may not receive adequate nutrition and leave out of necessity.

Olwyn has been able to...maintain a stable growth and weather pattern for the mountain to make certain her wild pack finds no reason to venture further toward civilization. The hunting is good, enough to support them and keep the population stable. But she doesn't know how scarce food is up north.

Clan Lavellan's lands are in the northern Free Marches, if Olwyn's knowledge is correct. That's quite a distance to go for a lone wolf. She'd need to have Eda stay at the Sanctuary while she was away, and the paperwork for transporting a wild animal over that many borders...the best way to go about it would be by boat, but Kirkwall is a city Olwyn would rather not visit anymore than she has to.

No need to make plans yet, you need to call Keeper Deshana first and see the scale of the problem, she thinks, picking up the phone.

Fear gives an encouraging caw.

Well, no harm can come from a phone call.

---

#old dog sanctuary au #olwyn #modern fen'sulahn au #dirthamen #also if anyone has any names for cute dogs that they'd like to submit #they may appear in later fills as part of the sanctuary pack

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feynites · 7 years

Text

*sneaks this into @justanartsysideblog‘s bag*

Their first attempt at becoming parents does not go well.

Werewolves, as it happens, are somewhat prone to miscarriages, and to multiple births. No one is entirely sure why. In part because they’re mostly a secret society, and not prone to letting doctors and scientists poke and prod at them. There are some experts within the community, of course. Sympathy is a doctor and also a magical healer by trade, and so is Lensa, and Olwyn herself knows a good deal of first aid and has taken some online medical courses. But their facilities are pretty limited, and without exposure - which carry its own host of dangers and likely destruction - there’s only so much they can do.

Still, when Olwyn finds out that she’s pregnant, they celebrate. With sparkling apple juice, and friends who pretend that they’re getting drunk on it anyway, and an impromptu sort-of-baby-shower that features a lot of unsolicited (but mostly fun) advice, and a whole lot of speculation. Marassal, eager soul that he is, is the first one to turn up with baby gifts - three sets of adorable footie pyjamas, in different patterns, all soft and small enough for a newborn. But he isn’t the only one to turn up at the apartment complex. Especially considering most of the pack lives there. In the span of the first month, they are given baby booties and blankets, toys and supply kits, and Beauty and Sym even come by to help paint the nursery room.

And then…

Well.

Olwyn wakes up bleeding in the night. Trying not to panic, but somehow they both just know what’s happened even before Kel carries her out to the car, and gets her to the clinic.

She tries to be objective about it. And, mostly, she finds that she can succeed. There are so many ways in which the process can go wrong. So many factors outside of their control. She tries to think of it as a false start, for her own sake, but Olwyn takes it harder. Blames herself, even when she knows that she shouldn’t - even when she tries to act like she doesn’t. Kel can see it, can hear it in the way she cries and struggles with it, and burns the bedsheets she bled on, and can’t go into the nursery for the first few days afterwards.

Kel holds her, and tries to offer comfort. But sometimes there’s nothing for it, except to be there, and to share the grief.

Even that is subject to Olwyn’s capacity for guilt, though.

“I know it doesn’t… that I’m, I’m focusing too much on…” she tries to offer, one evening. After another night of crying, and Kel getting them both up and making them tea. Her wife’s hands curl around her favourite mug, soaking in the warmth. But she doesn’t sip it. Just sits and stares at the cracks in the old tabletop.

Kel reaches over and steals one of her hands from the mug. Threading their fingers together.

“It matters,” she says. “You’re allowed to focus on it, Vhenan.”

Olwyn closes her eyes, and lets out a long breath.

“You don’t,” she says.

That stings.

“Of course I do,” Kel replies, unable to hide it. But Olwyn shakes her head, then, in wordless apology.

“No, not like that. Not like you don’t care. I just mean… you’re not fixating on…”

Ah.

Well, that’s true, too. She can admit.

“It’s easier for me, on that front,” she says. “It happened to both of us, in a way, but in a more physical sense it happened to you. I was on the outside. So, I can be the one who looks at the practical things right now. And you can take your time. It’s alright, love, it really is.”

Olwyn closes her eyes, and lets out a long breath.

“You want to try again,” she says, with certainty.

Kel doesn’t deny it.

But…

“There are a lot of ways to have children,” she says. “I’m good with all of them, to be honest. And I’m not in a hurry. If it doesn’t happen, then it doesn’t happen. Life’s still good. I’m not going anywhere, Olwyn. Even if you don’t want to try again - then we won’t, and we’ll live.”

That gets her a surprised look. Which might sting a little too, except that Kel knows how hard it is to get over the idea that the people you love will leave you. That at the first sign of trouble or failure, the first ounce of suffering, they’ll decide you’re not worth it anymore, and then just cut themselves free. Olwyn’s fingers tighten around her own. She tugs, a little, and after a moment Kel goes. Standing up from her chair, and settling in front of her wife’s. She wraps her arms around her, and sinks into a long, slow kiss. The full moon is a few nights away, and usually when it is things start heating up between them. But not this month. This month everything is slow and steady, soft and careful. The both of them handling one another with a keen awareness for the fragility of everything.

“It’s the curse,” Olwyn murmurs, before closing her own arms more tightly around her.

Kel sighs, and squeezes her back.

“Maybe. Or maybe this is just a bad thing that happens to a lot of people, for no good reason,” she counters. “Either way, it’s not your fault.”

And that is the mantra for the next while, too. Not your fault.

Sometimes Kel wonders if it’s hers, instead. Something she did or didn’t do. Something she could have noticed. Maybe she should have argued more, when Olwyn offered to be the one to carry their child. Maybe that would have been wiser or more practical. But at the time, her wife’s enthusiasm had been infectious, and Kel wasn’t really all that enamored with the concept of pregnancy.

She thinks on it more, though. Through the full moon and the end of the month, through the pack meetings, and into the next, and so on. Gradually, things begin to regain their equilibrium. They sort of have to, she supposes - life doesn’t actually pause for grief or trauma, and both of them are trying to get back to it anyway. Their love life starts to heat up again. On their anniversary, Kel scoops her wife up into her arms, and carries her much more happily. Carting her off to bed after a long and romantic dinner; taking her time to pull off Olwyn’s jewellery, and free her hair from the fancy braids she wove it into.

And Olwyn slides her hands up Kel’s dress, and hums as she unhooks her bra, and cups her breasts. The full moon is on its way again, and it shows in the way Olwyn shivers more at her touch. Pressing in closer, nipping with her kisses, and letting off a few soft growls of frustration whenever their clothing impedes them. Kel teases her, drawing it out. She pins her to the bed, and trails her lips down the sensitive side of her neck. Lets her touch linger at Olwyn’s hips, and knees, and leaves her in her dress even as she gets a thigh between her legs, and watches her breasts escape the flimsy straps of her top.

“You look good enough to eat,” she declares.

Olwyn huffs, and then twists her position enough that she can wrap her legs around Kel, and squeeze her close.

“Then get a move on, before I flip us over and take care of this myself,” she replies, tauntingly.

Kel laughs.

“My pleasure.”

She migrates her way down with kisses, even so. Letting Olwyn’s breasts stay in her bra, because it’s a pretty one and they look good in it. She pauses at her navel, and dips her tongue into it, first. Before she finishes unzipping the dress, and lets go of Olwyn enough so that she can pull it away. Then Kel takes a moment to admire her matching set of panties. Blue and lace and lovely next to the soft spray of freckles on Olwyn’s thighs. Those, of course, need kissing, which she indulges in, until Olwyn’s hips are twisting and her fingers and pressing very pointedly against the skin behind her ears. Hurry up, the gestures say.

Kel toys with the band of Olwyn’s panties, but in the end, her first move is to press her mouth to them, and leave them on as she drags her tongue along the smooth center of the fabric.

Already damp, and the scent of arousal is very strong.

“Delicious,” she hums.

Olwyn pinches one of her ears. The moonlight spills into the bedroom, but the heat that’s building up inside of her feels too fiery for it. It looks good on the two of them, though. Landing gently on Olwyn’s curves, and catching on the shine of her lips as she opens her mouth. But whatever she had been planning on saying turns into a soft moan, as Kel presses her legs a bit further apart, and then sets upon the task of devouring her through her panties. Dragging her tongue in long, deep strokes, until the fabric is thoroughly askew, and she can’t resist the tantalizing offer of the heat beneath it.

Then she pushes the fabric aside, and indulges her fingers and her tongue. Pausing only to look up and enjoy the view, to watch as Olwyn struggles her way out of her bra and cups her own breasts, and bites her lip, and rocks her hips into her licks and touches. Unhesitating in a way that makes something in Kel’s chest ease. An unspoken apprehension, built up from months of carefulness, that finally loosens its jaws.

She even feels inspired enough to go and retrieve her favourite strap-on, leaving Olwyn perilously close to her edge as she casts her own dress aside, and shimmies her way into it.

“This alright?” she checks.

Olwyn looks at her, her gaze all fervent in desire, and then reaches over to grab the belt of her strap-on, and tug her closer.

“Yes,” she says, emphatically. Before she flushes even more, at her own boldness, and bites her lip again.

It makes Kel laugh with relief, and steal a kiss from her lips. Pressing close enough to feel Olwyn’s breasts against her own, to feel her pulse hammering, and breathe in the send of her. Then she lines them up, and her wife grips her biceps tight, and lets out a low moan at the inward press of the strap-on.

This particular toy isn’t two-way, but it still presses pleasantly on Kel’s own parts at the briefest bit of pressure. It means that she has to make fairly deep strokes to get much stimulus on her own end, though, and she takes it careful at first. At least until Olwyn reaches down to her ass and grips her tighter, pulling her in abruptly enough that the both cry out at the sensations. Her nerves tingle and Olwyn’s eyes are yellow-bright in the moonlight, her teeth a little sharper than usual, the whole of her spread out in an invitation that hedges as close to a demand as she ever gets.

Kel moves faster, then. Picking up the pace and giving in to temptation again, until she’s lifted Olwyn’s hips, and the bed is rocking in time with her thrusts. Each inward stroke tantalizes and teases her further. Drawing her perilously close to her own finish, by the time Olwyn arches and then stiffens in a very distinctive way.

She has to stop herself from carrying on, then. Mindful of the sensitivity of the aftermath. He chest heaves with her own breaths, but while she thinks Olwyn is still coming down from her own heights, her wife pulls her down for another kiss, and then very pointedly does roll them over. Closing one hand over the strap-on, still slick from being inside of her, and pressing it down, before she undoes the belt. And then she takes it off of Kel, and turns it in her grasp. Sending her a questioning look, as she lines it up with Kel’s own entrance.

“My turn?” she suggests. Her voice sounds shaky, and the light in her eyes is bright enough that if Kel didn’t know any better, she’d think it was the full moon.

She stretches her arms up, and spreads her legs wider in invitation.

“If you want-”

Her acceptance barely gets any further before her breath catches, then. As Olwyn presses her thumb to her clit, and starts to work the slick toy into her own entrance. She doesn’t put it on, not this time. Instead she just uses it by hand, making shallow strokes and rubbing firm circles against her, mindful enough of her nails that she switches to her knuckle after a moment, but this evening she doesn’t need to take them off, as Kel is close enough already. A few more strokes and she comes, calling for Olwyn.

Who answers it by climbing back up onto the bed. Her limbs a bit shaky, her grip possessive as she wraps her arms around Kel. But Kel can’t claim the high ground on that, as she clutches her back just as fervently - and with no moonlight to blame for the covetous note in her murmured affections.

All in all, a pretty normal anniversary for them.

A few nights later, she wakes up with Olwyn’s head on her chest. Fingers idly tracing patterns over the bedspread. When Kel starts carding her own through her wife’s hair, she glances up at her.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” she asks.

“Maybe. S’alright,” Kel replies, because it is, and she likes the way Olwyn smells when she’s halfway asleep. Likes the way she feels when she’s relaxed and easy against her. She presses a kiss to the top of her head - and mostly gets hair, but who’s counting - and eases into the rhythm of both of their breaths. Almost slipping away again, before Olwyn speaks.

“I want to try again,” she says.

Kel’s brain takes a minute to catch up with her, and she finds herself murmuring in reflexive agreement - of course, dear, if you want to - before the real meaning hits her. It wakes her up more, and has her sitting up against the pillows. Olwyn shifts so she’s beside her, and they can look at one another.

“You’re sure?” Kel asks. Because, whilst Olwyn is not a doormat, she is an exceedingly generous person. And generous people need to be given the space to not be, when it’s needed.

There’s no furrow to Olwyn’s brow, however. Just a steady - and very awake - sort of contemplation in her gaze.

“I do,” she affirms. “But I… I’m not sure if… well. If it went wrong again, I don’t think know if I’d be able to try even more. Maybe, but… I’m just, I know I want to. I think I knew I would want to even before, but I just couldn’t let myself. It felt too much like I was just casting aside…”

She trails off.

Kel gets it, though. She brushes some strands away from Olwyn’s face, and then cups her cheeks in her hands, before pulling her close again.

“We’ll talk specifics in the morning. It’ll be okay,” she promises.

They don’t decide it that night, or even the next few days. But that’s the start of how Kel ends up on the ‘receiving’ end of the ritual, this time. An old elven one, which is neither as sexy as one might hope, nor as invasive as one might fear. It takes them a few tries, another six months in fact, but just when they’re starting to consider that the process might not actually work on Kel for some reason, she takes one of her scheduled tests and sees the blue lines come back positive.

It fills her with more feelings than she can readily describe. Trepidation not the least among them - and that makes her wonder if they shouldn’t have maybe looked at other options more thoroughly. Though most, of course, were further complicated by the whole ‘werewolf’ thing. Adoption was especially tricky when you knew that any kid you took in was essentially being brought into that, on top of everything else.

Though, of course, a baby being born into it probably isn’t much better.

But then she takes a few breaths, and lingers in the bathroom for several minutes. Reminding herself that they’ve been over that. And that there really isn’t much problem with the whole werewolf thing.

It’s been a while since surreal turn of her life has caught her off-guard. But it strikes her again, as she stares at the positive test. She was just… normal. All her life, just a normal elf. And now she’s married to a werewolf, and it turns out magic is more than she ever might have imagined. And she’s in love and she’s going to have to go on maternity leave and there is a person growing inside of her, which was dizzying enough when… when it was Olwyn. But there’s an added layer of strangeness to the experience, when it’s her own body that’s going to grow and change and… and hopefully accommodate what’s going on inside.

Creators, she hopes it doesn’t… doesn’t go wrong.

She’s not the praying type. But she maybe manages a few, just on the off-chance anyone is listening, before she leaves the bathroom. Olwyn knows when she’s testing. They have an agreement that she’s not supposed to wait, because when she sits and waits she gets worked up and over-thinks everything and worries if it takes too long. So she’s on the couch, in front of their television set, pretending that she’s watching House Hunters and not the clock next to it.

But there’s really nothing for the look in her eyes, when she turns and stares at Kel, and the test in hand.

Normally Kel just throws them out, when they’re negatives. Comes back out empty-handed.

This one, she holds up.

What should she say? ‘Surprise’ doesn’t really seem accurate or appropriate, and ‘congratulations’ seems weird when they’re both going to be celebrating the news.

“It, um… it took,” she says, and then almost smacks herself in the forehead, because what the hell, that’s the probably the least romantic or enthusiastic or happy way to deliver the news. Which is, indeed, happy news.

But Olwyn doesn’t seem terrible bothered, as her eyes go wide, and she shoots up from the couch like a rocket.

“Really?!” she exclaims.

Kel nods, rapidly, a few times. And then Olwyn reminds her that werewolves are fast, as she’s barely opened her mouth to attempt some slightly less awkward commentary before there are arms around her. Squeezing her tight - though only on the backs of her shoulders, she notes - as Olwyn makes a sound of incoherent joy, and then spins them both around.

“It worked!” she exclaims. “It worked, it worked!”

A laugh, equal parts delighted and nervous, bubbles out of Kel.

“According to the test, anyway,” she says.

“We have to go to the clinic,” Olwyn decides, immediately.

And even though Kel isn’t quite as convinced that an immediate visit is called for, she gives in. Sym is on duty, and he takes the time to do a basic check-up, as well as pretty much just confirming what the test told her. It’s early days, yet, for anything more extensive. At Olwyn’s behest he does an ultrasound, too, but even that can only just confirm that there’s a speck of something in there, and not really give much more information either way.

They do things differently this time, though. Telling everyone right away had also meant that everyone knew when they’d lost their first attempt, too, and that had stung throughout the community. And Kel’s pretty sure it had made Olwyn feel even worse in the end, too. Like she’s somehow let people down, in addition to losing the pregnancy.

So this time, they don’t have to debate much to agree that they’re going to take a different approach. They keep it just between the two of them, and Sympathy, and Lensa, for the start. Kel goes into the nursery to take stock of what all they have again, though. And Olwyn ventures in too, though they don’t really talk about it. She runs her hand across the side of the crib, and dusts everything, and gets new curtains for the windows.

The nursery looks out over the small, square park behind the housing block; and staring straight out gives a view of the forests, in the distance, rather than the city skyscrapers.

If Kel starts acquiring a few more charms for good fortune and health, and happens to leave them on the nursery windowsill, Olwyn doesn’t bring it up, either.

The first trimester is mostly marked by a lot of nausea. Pregnancy is uncomfortable, Kel finds. She throws up a lot more, and becomes infinitely more neurotic about her food. And not even in the ‘weird cravings’ sense that she’s expected - though she does find herself suddenly wanting to eat things like liver and curry and blackberries, that she’d never been entirely keen on before. Those aren’t weird foods, though, and the biggest shift is that she starts getting more particular about what she has with what. Suddenly fruit with cereal is unappealing - it has to be fruit or cereal. And meat she just wants on its own as often as not, too. Her normal breakfast-lunch-dinner habits break down into something more like six smaller meals a day,

She throws up in the evenings pretty often, too, though not with enough regularity to cause concern.

Concern doesn’t really make itself known until she goes in for her first proper ultrasound, and a check-up that has been slightly bumped up because Olwyn is convinced that she’s vomiting more than she should be, and is worried about preeclampsia. The check of her blood pressure doesn’t turn up any major problems, though - which is a relief.

But the ultrasound provides another explanation for Kel’s increased quality time with the porcelain throne.

“Lupine fertility strikes again,” Lensa declares, as she moves the wand around Kel’s stomach, and gestures to the blurry and - to Kel, anyway - undecipherable shapes on it. She’s too busy trying to parse what’s on the screen to really register the comment’s implications, at first. Olwyn is quicker on the uptake, and squeezes Kel’s hand tightly as her lips part a little in surprised.

“Two?” she says.

Wait, two what?

And then Kel remembers. Werewolves are known for complicated pregnancies, and for multiple births.

“Twins?” she asks, as her eyes go wide.

Lensa grins at them.

“At least,” she declares. “It could be triplets, it’s a little early to be completely sure. But it’s definitely more than one.”

Kel blinks.

She feels weirdly faint, for a few moments.

It’s strange, she supposes, because obviously on some level she knew it was a possibility. But they’d had to work so hard to get pregnant - Olwyn’s pregnancy hadn’t taken in a hurry, either, and while she knows there are people who’ve gone through a lot more, it still feels like it took a monument combination of luck and effort to get here. And now somehow it’s not even just one little baby, it’s two. Two people, growing inside of her. Depending entirely upon her actions to make it to birth, and then depending on her and Olwyn to survive once they’re here.

Two.

At least.

“Kel?” Olwyn asks her, as she blinks some more. She moves closer, obviously concerned, and brushes a few fingers across her forehead. “Are you okay?”

She considers that. Olwyn’s wanted kids and Kel has too, and as big as this is… well…

“We got a bargain,” she finally says. “Two kids for one pregnancy. What a steal!”

Olwyn lets out a breath, and Lensa snorts at her. Kel leans her head against her wife’s, and stares at the weird little screen blobs.

She can do this.

They can do this.

#kelwyn #citrus #fen'sulahn au #modern fen'sulahn au #werewolves au #jump forward #not sure if this is canon or not but hey #also maybe more to come?#x3

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