#faeven

In Love, Avoidance

For @dadrunkwriting

Paring: Faewall || Established Relationship || Fluff

Summary: Thom worries about the truth coming to light while being around the wardens. During a quiet moment of introspection, Faeven finds him.

They had been in Crestwood for a week. All these actual wardens around had Thom on edge. He was in awe and in constant fear he was going to slip up. Any one of these people could call him out, could know that he wasn't who he said he was at a moment's notice. Every time they called him over or asked him questions, his nerves wound tighter and tighter. One of these times those nerves were going to snap, and he knew that a fuck up was inevitable.

The wardens had gone away for the night, and it was just him and the sigh of summer wind through the wet canvas of the encampment. It had been drizzling throughout the day, and only let up around dusk. He poked his sword at the embers of the fire that had all but went out. It had been spitting its hot defiance despite the damp wood, along with the jovial and drunken faces of the rest of his lot, but that was a while ago. The night was lonely now with everyone sound asleep, and he was here with his taut nerves and thoughts that tried to drown him during even the smallest moment of peace. Well, he thought he was alone. He smelled the bright notes of citrus before her voice came from somewhere in the darkness near him.

"So are you practicing that bit about vigilance, in peace or whatever?" It was Faeven. Backwards as ever. She popped the last slice of orange into her mouth before chucking the peel into the embers.

"Heh. I guess I'm not that vigilant, if you can sneak up on me." He remembered earlier in the week when they first ran into that scouting party, and how bad his hands were shaking. There was a moment when Faeven remarked, almost without knowing she did until the words were out of her face. "Oh, there they are. Found 'em." It threw him back to their time back on the storm coast when they were doing anything but their job. He was consumed by it. Those memories and the weight of them. It was such an incredibly unexpected thing to say in that moment with the tense air of suspicion and undead swarming around them that he burst out laughing. Winning both a smile from Faeven and twin looks of concern from the warden scouts. 

Now, with the moon peaking through the clouds, Faeven was regarding him in that way she did. Her eyes were bright like the sun glaring off the sea. "You are. Usually," She scratched her chin, sniffed. Her nose was runny from the chill of the night. "You seem...inside yourself right now. What's eating at you?"

"Faeven, I…" He trailed off as a gust of a particular chill blown through them, rustling his paper thin soul. He felt so vulnerable, and why did she have to look at him like she could see the real man buried inside. And how could she stomach him if that was true? It wasn't fair, so he looked away. Vulnerability was not something that he was entirely used to. Usually when this sensation came over him like a black wave, he was alone. This time, she was here and her presence wasn't something he could ignore. He rubbed at his arms to try to force some warmth back into him. It didn't work. This damp chill seemed to soak further than skin deep. "It doesn't matter. It's late, you should sleep."

"So should you." Faeven was sitting beside him, her profile sharp from the moonlight above. She seemed to want to say more, almost like not knowing was too much for her, but she didn't pry. She gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. He felt his hand turn over, and he felt her light touch trace the delicate arches of his fingertips, long since callused over. That finger of hers explored the deep lines set with his palm, lingering at the topmost line. He took her hand that lay still on her lap in his, explored the loops and the lines with the same quiet reverence as she did. His head rested against her forehead. Her hair smelled musty, not a bad smell. He liked the smell of earth. It was then when she decided to break the silence. "It has all been a tad much, hasn't it? Whenever you're ready...no rush." 

He nodded his thanks, his breath rustling her hair, before he straightened. "How about we go for a walk and take a dip? I know a place around 'ere with a nice little pond."

"I'd like that." She freed her hand from his and pulled a joint out of her pocket. She smiled around it at him. He lit it with a match from the matchbox he started carrying around for her,  in case she ever ran out. She took a small drag, blew the smoke away from him. "Let's get out of here."

They weren't going to sleep anytime soon. 

Faeven: Well, His name is Poppycock for a reason.

Sera: You're really out here whacking baddies with stabby dangles? *titters*

Varric: Andraste's ass, are those flowers sprouting from it?