#davrich

He just had to keep pushing, didn't he? Perhaps his heart was in the right place, perhaps this was him trying to connect with Davrin, which wouldn't have been an issue in any other circumstance. Unfortunately, the topic of the ancient elves left a sour taste in Davrin's mouth at the moment, and he wasn't in the mood for the constant prodding.

"Even if I were to believe you truly meant that, you have such an inquisitive mind, my dear. Learning about the intricacies of how the elven people evolved into who they are seems like such a rich topic. Why wouldn't you—"

"Because it changes nothing!" Davrin snapped, right as his knife slipped, tearing open a large gash clean across his hand. An explosion of pain shot up his entire arm. "Shit!"

Darting up to his feet, Davrin's knife clattered to the floor alongside the mutilated chunk of wood, all while blood poured freely from his wound.

"Darling!" Horrified, Emmrich rushed forward, frowning when Davrin snatched away from him, shoving past Emmrich to get to his desk in search of supplies. "Let me have a look."

"I'm fine," he grunted.

"You most certainly are not!"

They both knew the truth. If he didn't heal up with magic or potions, then the wound was going to need stitches at the very least.

Great. Just great.

They were lucky Assan and Manfred were out so late chasing wisps in the courtyard together, or that would have been another headache all on its own. Davrin had suffered worse out on the field, but who knew how Assan would react to such an injury up close? Concern might lead him to act out of aggression on Davrin's behalf, that instinct to protect.

Although, speaking of those damn wisps, Davrin's annoyance continued to fester when he couldn't immediately locate his travel kit. He knew where he had last left it, yet it didn't turn up anywhere for all of his clumsy, one-handed rummaging. The best that he could find were some bandages, but that wasn't going to help much before they were completely soaked through.

When his bleeding showed no sign of slowing, Emmrich intervened.

"Davrin, please. Be upset with me if you must, but there is no point in you suffering when my magic can heal you," he insisted.

Not even Davrin could argue with that.

After a moment, he slowly held his burning hand out towards Emmrich, only to shy away from him when he rushed forward without hesitation.

"Don't," Davrin warned. "Don't touch my blood."

Emmrich sighed.

"As you have reminded me countless times in the past, my dear. I am more than capable of working around your condition. I swear, I will take the utmost care when casting my spell."

Searching his expression, Davrin eventually stretched out his hand again, then fixed his gaze on a spot over Emmrich's shoulder while he worked.

Silence settled over them with the weight of a heavy blanket.

Under Emmrich's guidance, every incantation, every gesture, coaxed the wound into sealing itself closed. Flesh and skin knitted itself back together until the bleeding finally stopped.

The only memento left behind from the blunder was a jagged scar to add to his collection. Other than that, his hand was almost as good as new. A light tingle remained where that burning agony once was.

Davrin balled his hand into a fist, clenching and unclenching it with a furrowed brow.

In time, he broke the silence and said, "I know that it can be hard to imagine a world beyond our life here. The Lighthouse is our base, yes, but it has grown into so much more than that in the time that we've been here. Our team has grown into so much more. Together."

After the blood loss, a slight dizziness crept up on him while he spoke, so Davrin took a few deep, shaky breaths to brace himself before continuing.

If Emmrich was so adamant about hearing his opinion on the matter, then Davrin wouldn't hold back, but he was going to speak his truth in doing so.

"It's so easy to forget here that your average, everyday Thedosians aren't Wardens or Watchers or Crows. They don't see the things we see. They haven't witnessed all of the wonders and horrors that our experiences have exposed us to. Not all of them have the knowledge that we do," Davrin explained, crossing his arms over his chest, "so when a lot of those average, everyday people hear the word, 'spirit,' they're not all taking the time to try and distinguish between whether it's a 'benevolent spirit' or a demon, Emmrich. They're not going to hear about ancient elves being spirits made flesh and stop to get into the details about how modern elves are different."

"They are fools then," Emmrich huffed.

With a bitter laugh, Davrin shrugged.

"Perhaps, but my earlier point still stands. Besides fueling some hate and fear among less… tolerable groups, knowing this changes nothing in my opinion, as much as I hate to be the one to break it to you." Leaning against his desk, Davrin stared out into the Fade, deep in thought. "It doesn't change the fate of an elf starving in their Alienage. It doesn't stop the purges when the nobility get antsy. It doesn't stop humans from hunting down those 'heathen' clans—" Davrin sneered at the term. "—who dare travel across 'their' lands. And if we—" He stopped himself short, quick to amend his statement, hopefully well enough that Emmrich didn't notice. "If I were to have any kids in the future, this isn't going to stop people from taking one look at their ears and judging them for it."

That was the harsh reality of it all, one that Davrin had to live with every day.

"Davrin…"

"Look," Davrin choked out, "the elves' history is just as important as everyone else's. I'm not denying that. How else can we learn from past mistakes? How else can we improve on things without a foundation to build off of?" He pursed his lips, locking eyes with Emmrich. "But for once, I wish that everyone could look at the Dalish, the city elves, my people as a whole and realize that we are worth preserving, too. As we are now, not only as we have been."

So much had happened since he left his clan, but he was always proud to call himself one of the People. That feeling never once faltered.

Shoulders slumped, he ducked his head, studying the floor when he whispered, "Why aren't we ever enough?"

Not only for the other races, but also for themselves as well.

Slowly, Emmrich closed the distance between them, giving Davrin more than enough time to withdraw, if that's what he truly wanted. However, Davrin didn't shy away from his touch this time. Instead, he leaned into it when Emmrich cupped his cheeks, resting his forehead upon his.

"If I ever made you feel such a way, then I cannot even begin to express how sorry I am. You are more than enough," Emmrich stated, "and I believe that the apology I owe you extends beyond even that matter."

"For what?" This, Davrin had to hear.

"For disregarding your feelings about the subject!" Emmrich exclaimed, as if it were obvious. "I should have known not to press the issue, yet I did so anyways. That was most unbecoming of me, and it was not fair to you."

"It wasn't," Davrin agreed, "but I'm sure you'll try to make it up to me somehow." As was Emmrich's nature. "You know, even with all of the progress in the South under Divine Victoria and the Inquisitor, there's still such a long ways to go for things to get better, not only for the elves either." Davrin was under no illusions, after all. Defeating the Evanuris and the Blight wasn't going to solve all of Thedas' problems. He paused while he considered that, his voice lowered into a mumble when next he spoke. "It's been a long time since I discussed this with anyone else. I try not to think about it too much, especially not while the gods are still on the loose. It can feel overwhelming, like fighting a losing battle. Sometimes, I swear it feels like I'm drowning."

The unfortunate side effect of caring too much, it seemed, but Emmrich didn't miss a beat.

"If ever there was a way for me to do so, tell me what I can do to support you, and I'll be there to help keep you afloat."

How did he always know what to say to make Davrin melt?

"In that case," Davrin said, nudging his nose against his, "you can start by taking the hint next time when I don't feel up to talking about something."

Emmrich spared him a sheepish grin.

"Fair enough. I shall keep that in mind for the future," he promised. "I get so carried away when it comes to the thrill of uncovering mysteries at your side that I sometimes forget myself."

"And that's one of the qualities that I admire most about you," Davrin told him. "I mean, I did let you show me more about the Fade, didn't I?"

"That, you did."

"Because I trust you, Emm, and I value your opinion, believe it or not." Leaning in, Davrin stole a quick kiss from him, Emmrich chasing after his lips for another before they parted. "If I'm not ready to speak about a subject quite yet, then trust me to come to you when I am ready."

"Duly noted." Emmrich nodded. "I think that I can handle that."

"Good. Now, I should probably clean up this mess before we have to go chase down Assan and Manfred." Looking around the room, Davrin frowned at the mess, right before he recalled another conversation between the two of them. "Hey, da'lath, my blood isn't actually gonna cause a haunting, is it?"

Emmrich followed his gaze, humming in contemplation.