An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Whumptober Prompt No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.” Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”
When he comes to, there are arms around him and a gentle humming from above his head. He fights the urge to thrash against the confinement – but the arms don’t feel confining. There’s no weight to them, just a warmth and a softness against his chest and around his back. He blinks open his eyes, taking in the flickering light of the fire he’s faced towards, and the long brown hair next to his cheek. He catches the scent of leaves and earth and sweat and life, and has to jerk back despite how comfortable he realizes he is.
Or, Astarion gets hit by a Fear spell. Halsin comes to the rescue.
