#jawsandbones

“His eyes reflect the heaven’s stars,” Cullen continues after a moment, “the Maker’s light. My body opens, filled and blessed, my spirit there. Not merely housed in flesh, but brought to light.”

A success. We have taken the proper precautions with this one. Porcelain is easily shattered. We will not risk a repeat of the First.

B.I.R.D. [protect your protagonist]

Where did that sound come from? Am I awake... Am I awake? Oh God, the damage done.

Companions

Bird. The Porcelain Golem.

Agnes. The Goldsmith.

Luca. The Guilty Shield.

Cecelia. The Last Gorgon.

Jacob. The Death-dealer.

Mattie. The Badb Catha.

First. The Failure.

B.I.R.D. is a community project. It will follow Bird, your protagonist.

You will help Bird make choices that affect not only them, but their potential allies, friends, romances, and enemies.

At the end of each chapter, you will be presented with a set of choices, and their likely outcomes.

These outcomes will have lasting consequences which will not only be felt in the next chapter, but the story beyond. These consequences range from getting one of your companions killed, to successfully romancing others.

These choices will be voted on by the community. If your choice is losing with the poll, present your argument to change the vote of others.

Bird is counting on you.

Lance jolts awake in the hospital bed, drenched in a cold sweat. He groans, bringing a hand to his still healing ribs. He curls his legs up against his torso, chest heaving as his eyes slowly regain focus in the dim room. He leans forward, head falling onto his knees. He shivers, the dream still tangible at the edge of his consciousness. Cold, alone in the dark expanse of space. He screams and he screams and he screams, but no one answers. No Red, no Paladins, just him. Just Lance, lost in some forgotten corner of the universe. His screaming stops, uneasy acceptance melding with his panic. He floats, eye closed, drifting away into nothingness. The nightmare is familiar, and he forces his eyes open to keep it at bay.

He drags a deep breath through his lungs, and he shakes his head. His heart hammers in his chest, an untethered thing that nearly chokes him. He gingerly brings his feet down onto the cold sterile tiles, wrapping himself in the robe the nurses provided. He’s well enough that the doctor has allowed him movement when he needs it. He doubts that entails a midnight stroll, but sleep is definitely not an option tonight. He pads quietly through the sleeping ward, careful to avoid any lingering nurses. His fingers ghost the walls as he wanders the silent halls, grounding him.

Almost of their own accord, his feet bring him to Keith’s door. He allows himself a small smile. Of course. Doubt crowds his mind, hand raised at the handle. Would Keith even want to do this anymore? He risks it, cracking open the door.

Keith is seated on the window sill, the curtains drawn back to gaze at the stars. Lance remains unnoticed, and he finds himself drinking in the sight of him. Keith’s profile glows in the moonlight, all the sharp lines of his features softened by an exhaustion he never shows.

Head bandaged and one leg pulled up against him, he looks smaller. There’s a look on his face that Lance doesn’t recognize, something vulnerable that doesn’t suit Keith at all. For once he finally looks his age, and Lance remembers just how young they all are. A pang in his chest, and he’s clearing his throat.

Keith whips his head back at Lance, surprise melting into warm recognition. He smiles at him, a gentle thing that tugs at the corner of his eyes. Lance grins in return. He can’t remember the last time he saw that smile.

“Can’t sleep?” He says, voice hoarse. Keith shakes his head.

“Bad dreams. You?”

“Bad dreams,” Lance says. Keith beckons him over.

Lance closes the door behind him, moves forward to make himself comfortable on Keith’s bed. He crosses his legs under him, and it’s almost like they’re back in the Castle. A silence falls over them, the shared quiet of two tired boys. They stare at the stars together, and Lance pictures them back on one of the observation decks. They were each afraid of what awaited them in their dreams; of what awaited them outside the castle walls. Keith had been the Black Paladin then, too.

They’re boys; boys playing at men in a war that outdates their very civilization. They distracted each other in any way they could. They planned and trained, and, when business exhausted itself, they talked. Well, Lance talked, but Keith proved to be a very attentive listener. In those many shared nights, Lance likes to imagine they had found solace in each other. Lance enjoyed the Keith he was allowed to see in those evenings. He had feared he’d never see that Keith again when he left. He never wanted to admit it, but his presence was an anchor in the sea of war.

Heart in his throat, Lance stands to join Keith on the windowsill. He hugs him. It’s new for both of them, but it feels right, long overdue. Keith is stiff in his arms for a few awful moments, dread curling in Lance’s gut, but soon he melts into Lance’s embrace. They stay like that for a long time, listening to the beating of their hearts and the beeping of the hospital machines.

I know I said I would write wlw pairings for the Sappho prompts, but I forgot to check and it was too late ;-; I’ll probably write another fic with this prompt later, because it’s so good. Anyway, I hope you like it <3 <3 <3 

On one of their first nights back together, Fenris took uponhimself to discover every scar on Hawke’s body. He was waiting on the bed—theirbed for Hawke to step out of the bathroom. His breath was taken away when Hawkeappeared in the doorway, only a towel wrapped around his hips. His hair was wet,droplets sliding down his shoulders, and his skin tinged pink from the hotwater. Fenris extended a hand. Hawke smiled and walked to him. He took Fenris’hand in his and pressed a soft kiss to it.

“Sit,” Fenris said, returning Hawke’s smile. The mattressdipped under Hawke’s weight. Fenris put a hand on his shoulder, then slid itdown his back. He felt every irregularity on Hawke’s skin, every previousinjury, some healed better than others. His other hand joined in, tracing ascar in the middle of Hawke’s back. Hawke seemed to understand what Fenris wasdoing. His head hung low, the smile gone from his lips. Fenris noticed.

“I—is this okay?” he asked. Hawke’s nod was slow, hesitant,even. Fenris ran a hand through Hawke’s hair, moving behind him. He leanedforward and kissed the back of Hawke’s neck. His hands splayed on strong shoulderblades, then went lower, around Hawke’s hips to his stomach, feeling the deepgash left by the Arishok, a wound that almost cut him in half, that almost tookHawke away from him before he could tell him…everything. Another scar on Hawke’sback mirrored the one on his stomach. Fenris kissed the side of Hawke’s neck,then his shoulder blades, and descended down his spine. Hawke shuddered underhis touch. Fenris had a hand on Hawke’s waist, the other on his chest. He couldfeel Hawke’s heart hammer against his fingertips.

“You,” Hawke whispered. “You’re so warm.”