♦ if you don't mind?
ACCEPTING - //send me♦ in an ask if you would like me to write a drabble about anything involving your character. If you have multi-muses, and do not specify, I will pick one at random. Domestic. Fighting. Emotional. Funny. Insightful. Heart breaking. Complete fluff. The drabbles will (usually) be short. If we have never RPed before, I will be drawing on information found in your muses / about /characters section and or gut instinct impression of your character. I am sleepy, but I want to write and I figure I could do a few of these before bed called. Mutuals, non mutuals, never rped with before, all welcome.
It is three AM and he has no business still being awake. It is 3AM and he cannot remember the last time he had slept. Sleeping was time gone. Time ticking. Seconds, minutes, hours, days gone. Do you understand? All that time could be dedicated to something more important. There was always something more important. And he had to do it. No one else could. They wouldn’t do it right and that was not acceptable. It is 3 am and his eyes are wide like tea cup saucers as he wakes his fiance from a deep sleep with trembling, panic. “You can’t go,” breathlessly said, hands as pale as snowdrifts, fingers as cold as them too, wrap around his lovers face to frame it, as he bends down to speak these rushed dark fears. These worries. These unending scenarios of truth and science and hard fact. “You can’t go without me. You can’t go first. You cannot go. Don’t you see? I will be undone. Everything I have built will be nothing, you will turn to dust and I will turn into the living dead. So you can’t. You can’t die first. You cannot die. Don’t. Never. I won’t be able to handle it. I won’t have it,” the last note was more anger than fear. “If you go, I will go--go mad. I was mad once, I think, and then you came. I can’t go back like that. I cannot.” Loghaindid as he always did, and always would. He gathered the man to him as if he were lost child. There were no words to sing, no phrases to say that would change these fears. Death was, for some, inevitable, and lying to say else wise was an insult to Gastor’s mind. Beautiful and broken as it was. No. What he did, was simply be there. And for a while, in the circle of Loghain’s arms, the strong, slow heart beat thudding in his hear, against his cheek, the hands in his hair....He remembered. He remembered what home was supposed to feel like.
