#morriganders

(Some of these broke my heart but the chastising Justice one made me laugh so hard it evened out!!)

>.>

#mother hen Morrigan

Morri:  *glares balefully at mun*

Send ✆ for a morning text

This is your requested reminder to call your contact in Starkhaven.

Send ✉ for a text that wasn’t sent

They found m

Send ☎ for a rushed text

just saw a patrol too close to eigth st safehouse for comfort.  Taking the air to watch, will keep you informed.

Send ☏ for a loving text

If I have not rejoined you by sunrise, go, and know that I have loved you as no other.

Send ⁇ for a drunk text

Whyyyyyy are you notton tetris.  too tirde for nything else.

Send ø for a late night text

Just finished, much easier to show you here, have had FAR too much coffee to sleep.  Come over?

Send ✘ for a hateful text

4 - Our muses are the only two survivors in a plane crash on a deserted island.

“Well that was… unpleasant,” Morrigan observed. 

Anders winced, gingerly flexing the shoulder whose torn cartilage had just been repaired by magic.  “Understatement of the month.  Where do you think we are?”

“Judging by the time that had elapsed before the malfunction…” she pursed her lips, considering.  “Not far off Highever.  ‘Twould be a simple enough matter to get back to Kirkwall; certainly easier than continuing on to Denerim.”

“Sounds like a plan, then.  I didn’t want to go to Denerim that badly, anyway.”

Twenty minutes later, after the aircraft’s food compartments – or what was left of them – had been thoroughly raided, a pair of albatrosses launched themselves into the sky, heading northwest.

11 - An earthquake has ravaged Kirkwall, our muses are trapped in a collapsed building together until rescue comes.

After several attempts to shift the massive slabs of concrete overhead had required swift termination, lest they bring even more of the building than the two of them could hold off crashing down upon their heads, Morrigan and Anders at last resigned themselves to wait, at least until a better option presented itself. 

“I’ve got a vague idea that this should be embarrassing,” Anders said with a tired chuckle as they re-stabilized their most recent abortive attempt.  “Two most concentrated sources of magical firepower in the city, and here we are, stuck under a building.” 

“I am more concerned with the sorts of people we shall have to deal with when we are dug out of here,” the witch answered, sliding to the cracked, basement-level floor and stretching one booted leg out in front of her.  There was a tear in her favorite leather pants, she noted sourly. 

He dropped down beside her, his presence as always more reassuring to Morrigan than she was ever apt to admit aloud.  “We’ll just put on our best ‘scared, harmless civilian’ faces when they find us.”

Morrigan snorted a laugh, taking up his hand almost without hesitation.  She was still getting used to initiating contact in situations that were unlikely to lead to sex, but it was… rather nice.  Particularly since she was still trying to clear the dregs of the adrenaline that had flooded her body as the building had been collapsing.  “I do not believe I possess such a thing.”

“Nonsense,” he smirked, squeezing her hand.  “Do you not remember that night at the Hanged Man, when you were tipsy and bragging to Elissa about how you dealt with nosy police in college?  Because I definitely do.”

Morrigan muttered under her breath, the only clear word being ‘undignified,’ which brought another chuckle from Anders, who of course knew that any true objections to such a thing on her behalf were minimal. 

“Regardless, there isn’t much we can do about it until they actually get to the business of digging.”

“On that, we are agreed,” she sighed, idly tracing at the ink that marked the skin of his arm, through a tear in the sleeve.  “You promised me the long version of this tale, once, you know.  Is now an acceptable time to collect?”

21 - A romantic camping trip turns deadly when something in the woods starts hunting our muses.

On the second day of their backpacking trip through the Korcari Wilds, Morrigan began to get the sense that they were being watched. 

Or rather, that they were being watched by something other than the magpies that had been eyeing the shinier parts of their gear, the small pack of timber wolves whose territory was nearby, and the impressively grizzled stray tomcat who was waiting for them to leave food unattended.  The forest had more eyes than even paranoid city dwellers usually gave it credit for, and most of them were hardly a matter for concern. 

On the third day, she was sure of it, and resigned herself to the necessity for dealing with the watcher, when it eventually decided to show itself.  In the meantime, however, she was showing Anders her childhood home; they were on vacation, damnit, and she was determined to enjoy it.  For his part, he had been meeting what she showed him with interest, and with an unfettered delight that she had not seen in this degree since she had first taught him to shapeshift.  It was more gratifying than she had ever imagined such a thing could be. 

On the evening of the fourth day, they lay entwined, half-unclothed and rapidly becoming moreso, beside the coals of their campfire, and it was then, of course, that a dragon’s nearby wingbeats shook leaves from the trees in a flurry like sudden snowfall. 

“Is that…?” Anders whispered, frowning, the haze of arousal rapidly retreating from his eyes.

“Yes,” Morrigan growled.  “Indeed it is.  My mother has profoundly impolite timing.”

33 - Our muses get into a fist fight, and it turns to hot, passionate sex.

Most things between Anders and Morrigan tended to escalate rather precipitously.

They had been having a friendly – if rather spirited – argument, and then he had zapped her teasingly with a spark of electricity, one thing led to another, and before they knew it, they were a pair of 300-pound wildcats grappling in the central underground chamber beneath the clinic.  It was fortunate, Morrigan fleetingly supposed as she reared up on her hind legs to clash forepaws to forepaws with her adversary, that they had not yet begun to furnish it.  Anders suddenly threw his weight to the side, nearly toppling her before she could disengage, and she growled as she arched her body to connect her front legs solidly with the ground.  With a feline hiss that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, he nipped at her exposed flank, prompting her to swat his ear.  Anders dodged the blow and sprung at her fully, the pair rolling across the floor until he managed to mostly pin her with his slightly greater weight, sharp teeth bared in a grin that rapidly shrank in size as he shifted back to his own form at last. 

The shift showed a great deal of trust, both for her benevolence as well as her reflexes, that she would dampen the force of the kick she had been aiming at his belly at the last moment before it connected.  Which of course she did, shifting back to human herself… but using the last moments of her size advantage to roll them, so that by the time she was fully human, she was on top, eyes wild and burning into his. 

9 - Who taught my muse how to fight?

“Flemeth taught me battle magic,” she said, tilting her head in consideration.  “But ‘twas the wolves, in truth, who taught me to fight.  The physicality of it, the sense of timing, and the cunning that has nothing to do with magical prowess, but simply focuses on defeating one’s opponent by any means necessary.”

2 - Fighting with Anders

“So this is a Grey Warden’s weekend jaunt,” Morrigan muttered just before releasing a blast of cold from her palms that snap-froze three darkspawn in front of her. 

“More or less,” came Anders’s answer with a snorted laugh from just behind her as a shield materialized around them both to halt the sickly green fire flung by a shouting hurlock mage.  “Could you…?”

“Of course.”  The hurlock emissary promptly fell to the ground, clutching its gruesome head and shrieking, while the witch was already turning to her next target.

7, 11 (Soundtrack for this drabble, because my playlist is trying to kill me with feels: “Illusion,” by VNV Nation)

[Readmore’d for length]

She did not know what had finally eroded Anders’s control beyond the final point of endurance; she only knew that the creature who now dominated the battlefield was Justice. 

"We Want Revolution" - Covenant

We want revolution

Kill your television Steal the satellites Download all the codes Catch the public eye

Shout your manifesto Bring your megaphone Stay below the radar Join the underground

I wanna car, skid and crash Into the brave new world I wanna ride, ride

Command

Morrigan was seized by a sudden, ridiculously giddy notion that she followed before she could give herself too much time to think on it.  It was easy, almost too easy, as she smirked and gave him a slight nod.  “Very well.  I love you, Anders.”

Question

“I…”  Morrigan blinked at him, surprised.  “I do not know how wise that would be,” she answered carefully.  “But ‘twould be… interesting, there can be no doubt of that.  Yes.  I would do this if you asked it of me.”

Attractive

She found herself fascinated, sometimes, by his hands.  Whether carrying the glow of power, gesticulating as he spoke (moving with as much animation as his face), or rising to run terrifyingly gentle fingers through her hair, they seemed to underscore and punctuate everything Anders was. 

Flirt, Intoxicated

As any self-respecting programmer knew, alcohol and code had a curious sort of synergy, the one facilitating the growth and coherency of the other… for a while, at least.  Morrigan had left that point behind at least an hour ago, and she finally accepted that if she kept trying to work on the project tonight, she would most likely end up scrapping the whole blighted thing in the morning. 

That wisdom, however, did not extend to avoiding text messages. 

<You are my loop condition – I keep cming back toyou.>

In the morning, she wasn’t sure whether she was more disgusted that she had been drunk enough to find that ridiculous list of ‘programmer pick-up lines’ from her departmental email list amusing, or horrified that as drunk as she’d been, she had managed to reproduce them coherently. 

Anders was never going to let her live this down. 

Compliment

“You make me think,” she said, quietly.  “Evaluate the way I see things and find better ways.  I have… always liked to think I am reasonably adept at that, myself, but it is seldom that another person can drive me to do so.  I am… most grateful for that.  For you.”

Insult

“Why you persist in thinking that such jests are funny, I will never know,” Morrigan muttered, rubbing at bloodshot eyes as she set her bag down on Anders’s desk.  It had been a very long night. 

“I persist in thinking they’re funny because they are punny.  Funny,” Anders chuckled, good humor unfazed by the witch’s morning crabbiness.  “And because you usually think so, too, when you’re actually awake.  Have some coffee.”

Hug, Kiss

Morrigan had followed Anders back to the clinic despite his admonitions to the group to split up, slipping in the door just after he did.  He acknowledged her presence, but quiet reigned for several long minutes as they both went through the mechanical tasks of cleaning and dressing the assortment of minor wounds they had collected, and healing a few that weren’t so minor.  When that was done, though, he was just sitting there on the side of the desk, shoulders hunched, and she had to do or say something. 

Anders was a tactile creature.  Eventually, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and simply stood there, letting her presence speak for her in place of words that she would surely fumble if she attempted to speak then.  The kiss, when it came, was not lacking in passion, but it was a far more gentle, careful thing than what they had shared in the recent past, and there was comfort in it that – she very much hoped – went both ways. 

Grope

They had come out of the fight exhilarated and relatively unharmed, but Anders suggested that she take the chance to practice healing with their assorted cuts, and she had readily agreed.  As she tugged at the waistband of his pants to get a better view of a shallow cut on the back of his hip, Anders let out a low chuckle, looking back at her over his shoulder. 

“If this is what it takes to get you to feel me up, remind me to get myself sliced up more often,” he said with a smirk. 

Morrigan rolled her eyes, but swatted at his rear somewhat playfully and returned the smirk.  “You know ‘tis not, but if you are looking for an excuse to exercise certain types of creativity, you need only ask.” 

Gift, Marriage Proposal

“This is enchanted,” Anders said, raising his eyebrows curiously at the simple tiger’s eye band where it now rested in his palm. 

“Yes, quite,” Morrigan replied with a small nod, eyes roving uncertainly over his face.  “ ‘Tis a tracking spell, keyed to its twin.”  She held up a smaller, but otherwise identical band for him to see, her mouth going dry as she approached the necessity of explaining. 

“I… “  She cleared her throat and tried again.  “The world is about to change, quite precipitously.  I do not wish to be without you.  I… do not know how much stock you place in formal… arrangements, but either way…” 

Anders grinned at her, though it was a gentler expression than she was used to, and drew a slight, answering smile from her own lips.  “The world’s about to end, so let’s get married?” he translated glibly, raising his eyebrows.