SHEARWATER

      nary a recoil from  this  vision : gore , death &  ravens  uncomfortably  acquainted  with – soft , proper things unnerve him now . scrutiny befell the mind , emerald capturing stillness typical of carnage . (  shadows dance ‘cross  your  mind , iron wolf .  ) beneath  a  forest  green  hood , mien  pulled into eternal grimace – helped , at  least , to  intimidate  those  who  would  not  relent . slowly  did  both  hands  rise ,  deprived  of weaponry . he did not fail to notice his injury , crimson blossoming from open flesh & exertion .

      ❛   i came here on whispers of dh’oine activity ,   ❜     sonorous , alarmingly deep / cavernous , age & experience factors in  the natural haggard of  his vernacular .     ❛   – you are wounded , my friend . you would not be able to venture far enough as it is .   ❜     should gratitude ever fall from cautious lips ?

How surprised he looked, so shaken and hurt! Two centuries had he hunted midst the dangers of the woods, and in all those nightfalls did Anwyl endure the horrors of its many monsters. No, fear no longer claimed him with ease, and so it was with unflinching discipline did he hold his bow. The pain made him pale. Would he faint?

 ❝ —Wait, please don’t shoot ! You’ll hit Calder. ❞ Quickly the young imperial advances and scoops up the fox in the archer’s line of sight, cradling him close to her chest. ❝ He’s my friend. I thought I lost him, we got separated and….❞ Overwhelmed she buries her face into the creatures fur, silently fighting back tears. She wasn’t sure where she was, or how far she’d strayed from the path home, all that mattered at present was her friend’s well being.

Rowan stopped short at the other’s words, lips thinning as he raised a skeptical brow. An odd manner of speech if he’d ever heard one, but the elf had come across stranger when faced with the eccentricities of Orlesian nobility. Even so… he hovered back, uncertain, trying to reflect on his previous tone of voice and how it might have given such a thing away. Was he becoming that obvious in his curiosities? Strange, what a change in setting could do to a person.

His brows soon shot up at the other’s following advice, averting his gaze sheepishly and folding his arms across his chest. Odd indeed. Choosing not to respond to anything before the question, Rowan hesitantly allowed himself to appraise the stranger once more. ❝Should you request solitude, I shall leave,❞ came the slow, deferential reply. ❝But as I heard talk of your… homeland, I’ll admit I was… interested…❞

Casually, Anwyl, in good spirits, asked in jest, “Do you think so poorly of me to believe I’d send you off?” Now, do quell the hesitancy, for he meant not affront. It was with hope that his unfailing smile would be reassurance enough. “You are not my guest,” the older elf then reminded, fingers running by stone and brick. “But I yours.” When at last his hand stopped, it sat by the head of an ornate bow, its make foreign yet familiar – quite like him. 

It wasn’t terribly often Emma found somebody that was quiet enough and skilled enough to sneak up on her, to hide from her senses. Though when she did she truly found herself beyond intrigued, pale blue eyes immediately falling to the blonde haired man that made himself known. Ebony ears perked fully forward on her head, hand immediately coming to the hilt of her sword in an action that was far more instinctive than it was threatening… though it certainly did help the fact that the hand that rested on the weapon was not her dominant hand that would draw the sword from the sheath. 

“That they are…” she agreed slowly, looking to him with a steady and calm expression. She sensed no ill intent coming from him even as she suppressed the demonic aspect within her, though truthfully that didn’t mean a whole lot of anything. “…Tell me, is that a threat or is that an offer for help, my friend?” she mused, lips quirking at the edges in her relative amusement, head cocking off to the side just enough to be noticed. Even with her mild teasing, she was prepared for some kind of reaction from him should he find offense… and yet she didn’t move from her spot where she stood.

“Were I to say the latter, would you even grant me the pleasure?” Ready to strike, she was, as naturally as one was wont to breath. Such confidence with experience! Such daring in heart! All the same, it had been wise of her to behave quite cautiously. In these friendless lands so pitiless, even this here elf could bring upon her undoing. Yet, eyeing the sword she kept, Anwyl, unassuming, smartly wondered, “Or would you sooner find offense?

“Indeed.”

When the stranger rose, he nearly fell, and Valathaan swept by his side quick with a firm hand on his arm. He had looked after this elf for hours. He had carried him through the hills to safety, drying him off and setting him down into a sea of sheets where he lied since. They were lucky drowners didn’t find him first. Or the hands of angry men.

“From unforgiving seas you return to the land of the living. It would appear you came as though by dream,” Valathaan mused, guiding the elf back down to bed. He offered a cup full of what could only be medicine, and there was a smile in his eyes. “I fear you will bear my company a while longer, wedd of distant shores. The night grows long and the air still. You will not find these lands as welcoming.”

It was in his head that the storming seas still rumbled, violent gales whipping without relent. How was it that he endured such violent wrath? Thinking, Anwyl took the medicine, the word ‘dream’ falling softly from his lips. “I felt Death as it kissed me, and the taste of its lips I can still recall. If that was but a dream, then I dare not welcome sleep this night.”

Tell me your honest opinion of my portrayal!

    Tips back champagne glass of ur tears**    Seriously, though, I can’t even begin to describe how ruined I am that my boy has the potential to hurt Ariella in his presence alone. Hell, maybe not even hurt, but simple longing, nostalgia, or the reminiscing of memories for a past love of hers. It’s absurdly sad, and I gotta admit, I have an inexcusable fondness for heartbreaking themes.    Aside from that, though, in all seriousness, I have to say again how overjoyed I am that you’re here and supporting this blog. I love Ariella so much, and writing with you is always such an extreme pleasure. Anwyl, as pure as morning dew, already owes her so much that he fears not being able to pay her back. This level of kindness and altruism is ridiculously needed in The Witcher tbh. All my debts have been paid. My skin is cleared.

Tell me your honest opinion of my portrayal!

Venturing deep into forests always posed its risks, as beasts of all kinds lurked within these woods, & sometimes ——– sometimes, Evyn wondered what his emperor found SO appealing in conquering these lands. He anticipated the presence of a ghoul, a wraith, a fiend, even, but never did he expect a  v o i c e  to resonate through the forest trees & address HIM. Startled, he turned abruptly towards the direction, the source - an elf, perched on a tree with an arrow aimed & ready. Gods, had he truly wandered too far, perhaps trespassed into Scoia’tael territory ? He wasn’t dead yet, hasn’t been shot & killed. There may be room for negotiations … at the very least, he hoped so.

           ❛         Uh – no, actually I haven’t found what I seek, but I will leave at once if my presence is not welcomed.         ❜

Good-- “Then you have not come to see your life robbed.” 

{ ⚘ }

          The sudden pull from a hand unknown to her startled the she-elf, had she been any quicker the poor elf might have ended up with a slab of rock embedded in his face. For once she was at least glad her reflexes were not so refined. 

                           “  neén “

She uttered in hushed breath, burning amber eyes gazing out behind the dense forest cover.

                        “ Witch hunters...”

Her answer was brief but to the point, these were men she wished to avoid. And for that she was thankful she was pulled away when she was. Though still she was uncertain if this man was to be friend or foe. 

Warm did his eyes grow, concern endearing in all its clarity. “And for mere pleasure, is it your head they seek?” he asked in a whisper. These violent woods grew silent in the night, and Anwyl dared not speak over the hushing breeze. True, the men would hear them! 

“No, not unsettled.” Ariella quickly gathered her wits about her. “I know what it is like to be hunted here.” And she knew the kindness of strangers who were willing to help. There were many Sorceresses in this city that would help, but how this one stumbled into her establishment was yet to be explained. 

“You look like someone I once loved,” she said quietly. Had this one the scar on his forearm from the billhook he had often carried in his pocket? Was his skin, underneath the cloak, darekened by the hours in the sun? “You can —” 

Could he hear her heartbeat? It felt as though the thing would leap out of her chest should he continue talking. They didn’t sound alike — and it was easier for her to affirm that this was not Bradford, her beloved. 

“Are you hurt?” It was a quick diversion as she watched his pale hair appear from under his hood. It was a relief that there were no dark curls concealed. “Hungry? I suspect you seek refuge, which I am willing to give to those in need.” 

“But at what cost to you?” Anwyl, with much concern, answered instead.

He saw something fade in those eyes, but for all his years, he knew not the name. Was it hope? Pain? Or was it a longing most profound? Anwyl, not yet devoted to another, could say only this: among his people, a lost love brought an absence so rarely filled. Humans escaped him. Frowning, he thought of what next to say.

“The wind wails as if in song,” rose his sing-song lilt. “For you, one whose words his heart has not yet forgotten. You’ve a giving soul, that which is larger than life. He has much to sing about.” For as any man graced by her should.

The elf from beyond Thedas– Rowan had only heard words here and there about the odd arrival. Skilled with a bow and useful on stealth assignments… The residents of Skyhold were not the only ones intrigued. Despite keeping to himself most days, Rowan had been unable to fight the fact that here, he may actually be safe to wonder. And beyond wonder, he could even risk asking questions instead of letting himself speculate and wait for things to be explained to him. Because of that, he had gone as far as to seek out this strange elf himself, if for no other reason than to see him in person.

It did not take long to do so. 

As the elf took to the ramparts, the sight of long blond hair and a bow slung over the individual’s back made him pause. It took a few moments, but after a slow exhale, Rowan quietly spoke up.

❝You are… Anwyl, correct? From beyond Thedas.❞ 

How far he had wandered from the hymns of the oceans. Her songs, his heart missed, swelling with longing as She did in booming storms. But, here, did he not look at home? In this cold? In this frost? Fair as the falling snow, Anwyl stood listening to the mountain’s loud silence. The footsteps that approached -- oh, deft and skilled rogue -- were a mere whisper louder. “You speak with much wonder in your voice,” the hunter greeted instead. “As though you’ve found yourself wading in dream...”