#vorashvan

she   doesn't.

unprompted, always accepting!

@vorashvan wants to know if there's a problem

maybe   it's   for   the   best;   a   wound   left   to   fester   cannot   heal,   although   she's   certain   that   with   time,   she   could've   handled   this   hurt   on   her   own.   mind   over   matter.

❝    you   thought   i'd   be...   happy...   that   you   went   behind   my   back   &   invited   my... colleagues   here?    ❞    she   asks   flatly.   the   necropolis   looms   over   them,   &   valeria   lets   the   decoration   drop,   folding   it   in   half   &   leaving   it   on   the   dresser   for   later,   before   turning   to   finally   fix   her   black   gaze   on   bellara.

she   shouldn't   be   mad,   or   annoyed,   or   whatever   it   is   that   she   is   right   now.   everything   went   well,   better   than   she   ever   thought   it   would.   but,   that's   only   because   it   was   myrna   &   vorgoth   that   intercepted   the   letter,   &   chose   to   respond.   she's   lucky;   she   can   list   a   handful   of   senior   watchers,   at   least,   that   would've   ignored   it   at   best   or,   at   worst,   told   the   not-so-young   watcher   ingellvar   &   her   new   associates,   in   the   most   academic   of   terms,   to   shove   it. 

though,   if   they   had,   she   wouldn't   have   to   go   back   an   even   bigger   failure   than   last   time.

(   on   top   of   everything   else,   she   gets   to   tell   them   that   the latest   surge   of   magical   activity   is   now   her   fault.   assuming,   of   course,   she   thinks   venomously,   bellara   hasn't   already   done   that,   too.   )

the   thought   of   the   towering   stone,   the   spirits   at   work,   the   sand   that   somehow   always   gets   in   her   hair… she's   not   ready.   she   wasn't   supposed   to   say   goodbye   a   second   time.   valeria   aches,   &   she   glances   up   at   the   schools   of   colourful   fish   -   fucking   fish   -   to   keep   bellara   from   seeing   it.   this   time,   frustration   cuts   a   jagged   edge   in   her   voice.

❝    you   didn't   think   i   could   do   that   myself,   if   i'd   wanted   to?    ❞

Tugging them closer by the waistband, teasing with a slow grind.

Flirtatious Sentence Prompts || Accepting

Cassandra had mentioned needing to take a shower, and perhaps some kissing and teasing ensued that gained Bellara an exclusive invite to join her in the shower.

The entire path to the washroom was filled with giggles and quick kisses. That was, until they finally made it into the room, closing and locking the door behind them. Cassandra was already quick to pull her own shirt off, tossing it aside somewhere within the room.

Cassandra felt fingers hook along the hem of her skirt and she was pulled towards Bellara. Cassandra's hands quickly wrapped around the elf's waist before pressing her lips into hers, gasping against her lips as their connected hips grounded into each other.

I know that this isn't the most practical form of communication, but in the spirit of romanticism, I thought I would send you a letter instead. In my opinion, it's always better to have something physical to hold onto and treasure—although I'm starting to regret my choice because it's raining here in Arlathan and my paper keeps getting wet! I'm settled down in my canvas tent for the night. It's my smaller one, but it still feels weirdly empty. I think I'm used to being cramped up with you. I adore it, actually. I love when our legs tangle together and I can feel your chest rising and falling against me. I love when you're not totally awake and you squint around like a little mole. Also, I love having someone else's body heat. I'm freezing my ass off right now!

People think that it's lonely out in the forest for weeks at a time by myself. I think it's the opposite! I'm surrounded by so much life, so much magic, I can feel it in my bones. I love it so much. I see the fade butterflies, how they're purple and magenta, and I think of you. Remember when we set up camp near the waterfall? We woke up totally covered in them! I was so scared we were gonna squish them, but they kept tickling my legs and I accidentally kicked you in the stomach trying to shake them off.

Okay, maybe that's not so romantic. I'm going to move onto more romantic things. I meant to make this a love letter, but you know me. Either I focus too much on something or not enough at all. When it comes to you, though, it's like my mind just goes ... quiet. My head is always filled with a constant buzz, like one big cloud of words and shapes and thoughts.

Mythal'enaste, you made it so much worse. At first, I mean!

It was incessant, Laika! I wanted to tell you everything I was doing. I wanted to know what you were doing. I wanted to know who you were with, what you were feeling, even what you were wearing. I think to know is to love, and I wanted to be intimately familiar with you.

I love you. Sometimes I just need to say it. You're my life partner. I can't wait to make you tea in the morning. You're my reason. If Elgar'nan ever came back for you somehow, I'd let him take me all over again in a heartbeat.

I can't wait to tell you about my most recent discoveries. I won't get into it now or I'll run out of paper! I can't wait to see your smile when I do, though!

[ Ink smudge ]

I also can't wait to kiss you. I keep thinking about it. Like, a lot. You are a great kisser. It's unfair. You can't keep kissing me when you want to steal my quills! When you kiss me, you make me feel like I've never been kissed before. Your hands—I know how scarred they are, but they tell so many stories just from that alone. I know you've gotten them from pursuing what you enjoy the most, and I think that is a beautiful, stunning thing. You are a beautiful and stunning thing. You touch me and I feel like my skin just erupts into flames. I want you to touch me until there's nothing of me that you haven't felt. I want you to touch me like a forest fire and engulf me completely.

Maybe those are the thoughts I'll leave you with tonight. You have plenty of time to consider! And reconsider. And maybe reconsider again after that.

I'll see you soon, Vhenan!

Bellara

unprompted ask. always accepting. @vorashvan

When Bellara receives the reply, it comes wrapped in a red envelope and sealed with wax and dried flower petals. A little fanciful, for both their tastes, but it's deeply sentimental. The parchment is lightly scented, spritzed with perfume. It reads:

Amata,

When I first got your letter, I could not help but read it, and read it again, until I knew the words so well I could recite it blind. I'd find myself on a Minrathous roof, recounting the shape of your smile and reading your letter back in my head. It certainly made the time slip by. A letter this lovely deserves a reply in kind.

Each time I considered my reply, I found myself lost in the sea of words and promises I would make. How I miss you! How I would turn to ask you for a synonym and you would not be there. I had to consult a real thesaurus! Do you know how boring that is, rather than debating the exact use and connotation of "slip by" as opposed to "fly by"?

I trust you are keeping safe in Arlathan, or rather, as safe as you can manage. That's a dim hope to have - and a bit hypocritical of me, given where both of our works take us. I'm sure you're reading this, surrounded by any number of artifacts that could become critical. And yet, despite the danger, you continue to work, to rediscover the past and shape the future.

You are so, utterly relentless. There isn't a truth you won't uncover. Only one of many reasons I love you. But to watch you as you uncover the next big secret, as you unravel mysteries that I can barely begin to fathom, as ideas click in those beautiful eyes of yours— how lucky I am to even be a footnote in your tale. Bellara, you are simply amazing. You must tell me everything when you're home.

If it makes you feel any better, our bed at home grows cold. The cats circle the door, waiting for you to come through, and leave me bereft of warmth. Though, I'm feeling the same, waiting for your return. The city carries on as if there is not a giant hole in it, a void of my beloved. Every day life keeps walking. And I will keep wanting your lips, your hand, the crinkle of your nose when you smile.

Forever consider me caught in your web,

there’s a dead man in the crossroads, and rook can’t find it in themself to care. the clothes mark the would-be-attacker as venatori. if they express anything, it’s disdain.

“ oops ? ” there’s a shift when they look at bellara. nearing amusement, but full of relief. “ maker, bellara – look at him and remind me to never get on your bad side ! ” truth and joke, and there’s never been a better time for both.

the nights in which it's lucanis' turn to cook dinner for the group are doubly some of her favorites ---- and not just because it means having a little piece of home spread out on the plate in front of her. ( there's only so much ' crow feed ' a girl can stomach; for all the elements of being a good crow that viago's imparted on her over the years, being excited about rice and onions meal after meal was never one of them. ) it means getting the opportunity to sit wit the rest of the team around the table while they wait ( not that she wouldn't otherwise be mingling with the rest of the group; but when it's bellara's turn to have full command of the little kitchen alcove, emilia often finds herself perched upon --- or at the very least --- leaning up against the counter over there, doing her best not to be in the way .... too much. )

so tonight being lucanis', she finds herself seated next to bellara at the table, already passing around the fresh bread that had been brought back from a trip earlier in the day to the markets in treviso for ingredients. across the table, taash and davrin are playing another round of who has the better monster death story, while to emilia's left, emmrich and neve are once again attempting to compare notes about a cold case in dock town before the meal officially begins. the go - between for now, lace makes her way back and forth with bowl upon bowl of food, doing her best to find empty spots to fill.

it's the nice sort of chatter and noise; overlapping conversations that don't have anything to do with the heaviness that waits for the lot of them on the other side of the eluvian back in the lighthouse proper. she even finds herself drifting from one conversation to another, listening to a little bit here before moving onto the next; never actively participating, but interested nonetheless. ( it's the crow in her; always listening even when she doesn't realize it. senses always turned on to what's around her. ) until there's something deliberate enough to break the concentration she didn't even know she had.

the toe of bellara's boot nudging her ankle before rising slowly ---- deliberately ---- up along her calf. ( and what else is she supposed to do but blindly try to catch that boot under the table with her own? ) she manages to catch a little bit of leather before she feels it retreat, but it won't be long before bellara makes a second attempt.

she tries her best to keep her expression unchanged, but fails spectacularly in between bites of bread. it's evident in the way an eyebrow raises, and even a subtle little curl in the corner of her mouth closest to the instigator. emilia pinches off another bit of bread and pops it in her mouth as she turns her head ( not completely; she still makes it appear as though she's interested in what taash and davrin are arguing about ) and gives bellara a cheeky little wink.

i know what you're up to.

a calloused hand hold on to varric's shaving mirror, eyes skimming over her features. blue eyes, crooked nose, a scar across her face. certainly not features people might ascribe to a hero, and she says as much to herself. her other hand comes up to gently prod at those same features, fingertips trailing over the circles under her eyes, the raised skin of her scar.

elissa knows that under her fatigues are more scars, more stories of failures, and each one eats at her. they're not just physical imperfections, they're reminders of every single time she's messed up. gotten herself hurt. gotten others hurt. those blue eyes, ever wide and emotional, fill with tears. she hates that she's gotten people hurt.

"elissa?" bellara's voice rings out, her door creeping open wide. the warden sets the mirror down, wiping the tears from her eyes and turning towards the elf with a wide smile. "what are you doing, da'mis?"

"oh- nothing. just.. looking at myself. wondering if i look like the type to save the world." a heavy silence sits between them. "i don't think i do. i think i look like a failure."

"da'mis.." lara's gentle hands come to find el's, holding them tight. "you are not a failure- you've never been a failure." thumbs lightly caress elissa's skin, bellara's own wide eyes staring down at el. "i wish you would see yourself the way i do."

"and how do you see me?" her breath catches as bel tugs her closer, presses gentle lips to her forehead.

"i see you as a hero, but you're more than that. you're beautiful, and talented, and clever- everything good in the world." those tears return to elissa's eyes, spill out onto her cheeks. it's so hard to see what everyone else does, even when it's laid out plainly. "i promise, da'mis. whatever you think of yourself, it's not how anyone else does. it's not how i do."

foreheads are pressed together, bel's hand coming up to rest gently against the other's cheek. it's not quite enough to quell the insecurities, but it's a start. it's a good start.