#i’m getting “cave bear used claw” or some shit on the side dialogue thing and i’m ???? tf is going on

[fizzytoo]

babygirls i cleared the goblin camp

[mexican-honeymoon]

I can’t find your ask box, so I hope this is the best way to send this! Dialogue prompt options: 14, 23, or 37? Or all three if you want 😂 I’m so excited for more SethKate from you!!!

@yossariandawn this is for you! My love for this ship has just reignited over the last week and I’ve missed writing for them. Hope you enjoy! 

14. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” 

37. “Lie to me then” 

He doesn’t know how he’s ended up here; hunched over an oak bar, light headed and with a clenched hand wrapped tightly around a bottle of whiskey, nothing but the distant thrum of traffic and the silvery glow coming through the windows for company. Actually, scratch that, he does know how he’s ended up here, but if he thinks on everything then he’s just going to fall further and further down the neck of the shiny bottle and he doesn’t want that. Seth doesn’t want to drown in the amber contents that now slosh against the glass as he moves the bottle from side to side, because he knows if he does end up getting as drunk as he wants then he’s just going to fall even more apart. 

He’s tried to hold it together since Matanzas, tried to ignore the dull ache that rests in the crease of his elbow like a taunt - like a fickle craving that’s just about ready to burst at the seams or pop like a balloon. But he can’t do that to himself anymore, he can’t give in to that destructiveness he used to so readily clutch. But most of all he can’t do it to her. 

What would Kate think of him if he stuck a needle inside his arm and filled it up with venom? How would she see him then? He can’t ignite her trauma anymore than he has with the bitter memory of all those months in Mexico - the time he was strung out and irritable, just about ready to give up and crumble. 

He shuffles a little on the bar stool, looks around the dark expanse of Jed’s bar and tries to roll the memory out of his head with a brisk movement of his shoulders. No, he’s promised himself that he would just get drunk enough to forget every shitty thing he’s done since he came across a beat up Winnebago, not swim down memory lane and learn to hate himself even more. 

But it’s all really for nothing anyway, he concludes to himself, because no amount of alcohol or shitty drugs can do away with the memories. They all live inside his mind like little demons that scratch and dig with sharp claws, and they burrow holes inside his heart and his very torn up soul and there they live and fester. He just can’t get away from them - can’t get away from his guilt no matter how hard he tries. 

That point is proven when he’s met face to face with the very object of his torment as he turns back around on the stool. Kate. 

A dark silhouette cuts her shape within the doorway, and her shadow falls, elongated and warped, right over to where he sits. Seth just peers towards her with whiskey bleared eyes as she comes into view, and somehow his very worn out heart does some sort of a somersault inside the caved in shell of his chest as she leaves behind the darkness and begins to walk towards him. 

She’s tired looking, with dirt brown indents carved under her green eyes and porcelain pale cheeks that hollow just a little under the bone. Her fiery hair is tickling her shoulders, ruby red and glistening in the dark light that swathes her. Seth knows the frustration she went through after defeating Amaru, he knows the bitter tears she had cried while reconciling with her new appearance. But now she wears the red well, won’t go back to brown because deep down Seth knows she’s too afraid to look in the mirror and see the girl she used to be - the girl she could have been. But she had taken a rusty scissors to it and chopped off the long ends after Seth had sat with her for hours and combed out the unruly tangles and after she had scrubbed herself of any lingering war paint around her eyes. So now, she’s some version of her old self and this new, trauma wielded woman that looks like the ghost of an Xibalban queen. 

“Hey, princess" his voice sounds more like a sigh than actual words, so heavy with the things he really wants to say to her and punctured with the apology he aches to give her “Why are you up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep” she tells him as she sits down on the stool beside him, her emerald eyes flickering towards the bottle that sits atop the bar like an uncut gem, glistening with the way the moon shadows across it. But she doesn’t say anything. Whatever discontent Kate has for Seth’s late night drinking stays hidden behind her cherry lips - or perhaps she can understand why he’s trying to wash away his pain with straight whiskey. 

Her answer is leaden, lingering between them like a heavy anchor that’s just about ready to bring them down. Seth knows that there are a million unsaid things hidden behind the curtain of her words - that she can’t sleep because of the nightmares, the guilt she has festering inside of her because of all the crimes Amaru made her hands commit, and of the grief that has consumed her like a wave. 

She shuffles even closer to him then, and he freezes in his spot at the way her presence just bursts whatever protective bubble he’s tried to encase himself in. All he can feel is the electricity off her skin that bounces off of his and crawls right up his spine, and he can smell the apple scented shampoo he had grabbed for her in a convenience store coming off of her hair - and the entirety of her being just wraps around him like an embrace. He shivers a little where he sits. 

He’s tried so hard, these past two weeks, to stay close to her but remain distant at the same time. Seth has hovered around her, watching protectively from the shadows or staying close to her but never really talking much. He wants to make sure she’s safe, that she’s not falling into shards of broken glass but he doesn’t want to push her too much and be the cause of her downfall. He won’t do that, not again. 

He heard what she said in that cave. In the eyes of the people I love. He had seen the sincerity flicker itself inside her jade eyes. He remembers how much his heart had soared, but he knows he’s not worthy of her love. Not at all. So he’s resigned himself to be miserable without her, so she can eventually move on and forget all about him because Kate deserves to be in love with someone good. Someone that isn’t him. 

But he’s weak, always has been when it comes to her, so he can’t help it when he feels his body lean closer to hers. He wants to curse loudly or down the contents of the bottle in front of him in one swift go. But he refrains - just locks his elbows tight and slowly moves away from her again. 

“What about you, huh? Why are you up so late?” Kate asks him, her voice trying to sound light and playful, but it comes out winded like someone’s just punched her in the chest. Seth looks at her then, flickers his eyes all over her face and takes in the way her bottom lip is dry and chewed, and how a very painful sort of worry swims deeply in the expanse of her eyes. 

Something stills within his chest, and his breath is squeezed from him like someone’s just stuck their fist between his ribs and clenched his lungs. He hates seeing so much anguish shadow itself across her pretty face, because he knows he’s the cause of it and he can’t bear the vision of all his wrongdoings reflect within her eyes. 

“Ah, I’m not tired” Seth shrugs, looking away from her and towards the label on the bottle, reading it absently in an attempt to fill his mind with something that isn’t the all consuming devastation he feels whenever he looks at her. 

He loves her so much, and he knows he shouldn’t, he knows he’s no good for her and that he’d just ruin her further if he was to ever reach out and hold her like he wants to. So he just slinks further into the shadow of his soul, and lets his own self deprecating values completely swallow him. He needs to just put distance between them and brush off all conversation with something like indifference, but this is Kate Fuller who sits beside him, and she’s talented at prodding and poking the tight stitching of his soul and causing it to unravel within him. 

She does so with one scoff and a roll of those wondrously magnetic eyes, and somehow Seth feels as transparent as the whiskey bottle. 

“Alright, lie to me then” Kate says, her voice crystal and tight and it bounces off of him and reverberates somewhere deep inside him. He chances a glance at her and when he does she’s sitting rigidly in the stool with her face cupped between bone white hands. 

“I’m not lying” he dumbly answers her, calloused fingers drumming impatiently against his glass that is now half full, the amber liquid looking dismal and forlorn as it sits there undrunk at the bottom. He picks it up, brings it to his lips and downs the burn of it in one go. 

“Seth, you’re just as tired as I am. I know you, and I know you’ve not been sleeping and I know it’s because of me and -” 

“Woah, slow down, princess” Seth tells her with a concerned shake of his head “don’t think that this is your fault, alright? I’ve got my own shit crammed into my head, and yeah alright, I haven’t slept properly in two weeks but it’s not your fault” 

“Seth, you haven’t looked at me properly since I’ve come back. Every time we’re alone you come up with some excuse to leave me, you won’t look at me and you barely speak to me unless you have to. I know I’ve put you through a lot and I can’t help feeling like you can’t see me as….me anymore” her words are like an uncapped rush, like a flowing river that gushes out of her and Seth just sits there frozen when they reach his ears. Because fuck, she’s blaming herself for this as if she has anything to be held accountable for. 

All he had wanted was for his shitty excuse of a personality to be completely detached from her, because he just can’t corrupt her or ruin her any more than he already has. He’s the cause of all of this, the reason for her trauma and her pain, and Jesus Christ he’ll be damned if he ever allows himself to be the reason again. But now here she sits, still completely broken, thinking that she’s the reason why he’s wallowing in a pool of whiskey, as if she’s caused him pain. It’s the complete opposite really. 

“Kate” Seth groans, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, his head pounding now with the weight of all the things he wants to blurt out “that is not the reason for any of this, alright? You’re you, and I’m still me and I…I just can’t allow myself to be near you anymore because I don’t want to hurt you, okay? All of this is my fault. Mine, not yours, princess. You need to heal and just get over all of this shit, and I can’t ruin that for you. I’ve done enough damage to you” 

“So that’s what this is about? You blaming yourself? I thought we were over this, Seth” Kate sighs heavily, her eyes intently studying him as he climbs off the stool on heavy legs. He paces a little in front of her, one hand clasped around his hip like he always does when he’s preparing a speech that is always prominent with his own self hatred, or when he’s ready to lash out something she doesn’t really want to hear. 

“I did this to you, how can you not see that? I can’t sleep with the guilt of it, Kate. Every time I look at you I see somebody I fucked over, someone I should have protected and look what happened to you. I walked away from you and the fucking Queen of Hell took you, don’t you see how this is my fault? I never should have left you…fuck I never should have taken you in the first place” Seth tells her, his pacing coming to a stop as he stands in front of her. Kate looks so small, so shadowed from where she sits, with her wide eyes peering at him with that all too familiar glimmer in them that makes him feel like she can truly see his soul. But he’s reminded then that she already has seen it - she’d cleaved it from him and tasted it on the tip of her tongue when she’d been possessed. 

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” she almost whispers, her voice like a delicate breeze that kisses against his skin. 

“I’ve gotta live with what I’ve done, and I’m okay with that because I deserve to feel like shit. But don’t ever think that this is your fault, or that I don’t see you as you because you’re still Kate. No matter what. You’re Kate, and you’re wonderful and beautiful and I can’t destroy that anymore” he doesn’t really know why he feels like he can say all this, but he guesses the gold whiskey that now swirls in his veins is making his lips looser. 

“Listen to me very carefully, alright?” Kate jumps off the stool, her hands a little shaky by her sides as she comes to stand before him. He looks down at her, his whole body sagging in on itself with how close she feels to him right now. If he wanted he could reach out and touch her, run his fingers through her red hair and down her pale face. He could lean down and kiss her. But he doesn’t of course, he just nods dumbly and crosses his arms in front of him. 

“You didn’t destroy me, Seth. You fought so hard to get me back, and any guilt you have shouldn’t matter because I’m here now because of you. You’re the only one who can piece me back together, and you won’t even look at me” she tells him with a wobbly lip “I thought….I just thought that you’d understand how I felt for you when I said all those things back in that cave. I wouldn’t have said any of that if I blamed you or if I didn’t want to be near you again” 

“Kate, I’m not good for you, alright? You need to just forget about me and move on. You should just leave here and go back to wherever and put all of this behind you” 

“You’re not even listening to me, are you? I don’t blame you. I forgive you and I need you, Seth. You think you’ve broken me? Fair enough, I can’t change how you think, but man up and help me put myself back together. I can’t do that without you” she tells him, her slight shoulders now tightly squaring up like she’s gathering all of her courage under her skin to turn it into steel. He just looks at her for a second without speaking, just staring into her eyes and trying to see any flicker of insincerity but there is none. Whatever she had meant when she’d confessed her love at the mouth of Hell is still evident within her now. 

“I don’t deserve to do that, Kate. I don’t deserve you” Seth shakes his head, his voice hard like he wants to try and convince her to run a mile from him and never look back. But her face just falls a little, some sort of pink tinge colouring the apples of her cheeks as she peers up at him. 

“I saw into your soul, remember? I could feel how you felt for me then, but if you don’t feel like that anymore I understand” she whispers, her words like a window that’s just shattered into splinters and her pretty face crumples into furrowed lines. He can’t help himself then, he instinctively moves towards her and cups her lovely face between his gun roughened hands. He can see it swimming in her eyes - that uncertainty and rejection - as if his words of defiance are an inclination that he doesn’t want her like how she wants him. 

“Kate, you’ve no idea how much I want you. But I’d be selfish if I allowed myself to be with you” he tells her with a shaky voice, his heart hammering inside of him. She just peers back at him with green eyes that are filling with tears, and he collects the pooling at the corner of them with his thumbs. She doesn’t deserve any more tears, she’s cried enough already, and he especially doesn’t want her to cry over him. 

“We’ve been through so much, Seth, we deserve this. We deserve to be happy, and I’m happy when I’m with you, and I know you think you’re no good for me, but let me decide that, please” Kate almost pleads, her hands now coming to trace over his wrists that are pressed to her face. He lets a sigh out of his lips at her touch, and he knows then and there that no matter how much he’s tried to convince himself that he shouldn’t be with her, he’s not strong enough to deny his love for her when she’s so close. 

Maybe she’s wrong and she’ll live to regret this decision that the both of them are at the precipice of deciding. Maybe it’ll be too much for her to be with an older man, a criminal and someone who inadvertently destroyed her life and she’ll wake up some morning and decide to bolt. If she does then Seth will just allow her to, because she sure as hell deserves better than him. 

But maybe he’ll end up being the wrong one. Perhaps he can be good for her, and be the one to knit her broken pieces back together and she can do the same for him. Maybe they’re soulmates, and all of the shit that they’ve been through had been the universe’s cruel way of testing them and bringing them together. 

“I love you” he hears her say, and he’s brought back to reality then and he wonders just how long he’s been standing there wordlessly. But she’s looking at him with the most endearing look in her eyes, and the most kissable lips parted towards him and he thinks for one maddening second that if a girl like Kate Fuller thinks he’s worthy of her love then perhaps there’s a small semblance of truth to it. 

He has been trying so hard not to hurt her, but he knows deep down that pushing her away right now when she’s so vulnerably confessing to him will just hurt her even more. And it’s just going to hurt him too, and he wants to believe he deserves pain, but he also wants to be a good man and he wants to prove to her that she’s lovable and worthy and not some broken and tormented soul. She’s right, he thinks, they both deserve to be happy. 

“I love you too, Kate” he whispers to her in the dark “I really fucking love you, princess” 

“Then be with me?” she asks him as she gently pries his hands away from her face and holds them in her tiny ones. She starts walking them backwards then, well away from the bottle of whiskey that Seth would have allowed to consume him, and towards the doorway. 

Somehow she doesn’t look so tired anymore, like the weight that has been tied to her small shoulders is all but dissipating with every step they take together, and there’s something hopeful in her eyes that radiates out of her when he nods to her with a smile. 

“Always” Seth tells her honestly, but there’s still some sort of doubt that perches itself in his heart so he finds himself asking “Are you sure you want to be with me?” 

Kate just stops before the doorway, lets his hands drop as she takes a step closer to him. She’s so small and warm as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses against his chest, and before he can even let out a tight breath he feels her lips press gently against his own. It’s sweet and short, but he knows it’s going to be the first kiss of many and he relishes in the hope of that as she pulls away with a small smile. 

“I want to be with you” Kate tells him “Always” 

[the-rogue-apostate]

Out of the Darkness - Chapter 2

Welcome to chapter 2 everyone!

The only warning I can think of is some foul language on Kara’s part; canon violence in the form of killing demons...

Again, as I will do regularly, I’ve taken some liberties here and there with the dialogue, but overall it’s the same content.

You can check out Chapter 1 either here on Tumblr or on Ao3!

Enjoy (under the cut)!

Chapter 2

With a protective hand resting on her back, Cassandra led Kara through the camp near Haven. It didn’t take long for those in the camp to become aware of their presence, and eventually, Kara was walking through a sea of glares. It became apparent to her that they all knew who she was, and that they all thought she was guilty.

And as if by reading her mind, Cassandra eventually spoke up.

“They have decided your guilt,” she explained. “They need it.”

Kara could only think about how she needed them to know she wasn’t guilty, but she knew it was impossible to prove - for the moment. She let Cassandra continue.

“The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia. I’m sure you know the Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between the mages and the Templars. She brought their leaders together. Now they are dead…”

Her familiar tone of grief was starting to resurface, and even Kara couldn’t help feel a little sad over the tremendous loss. She didn’t remember much about the Conclave, hardly anything really, but she did remember the amount of people there. The Temple was vast, and it housed hundreds of people from both sides, and countless other Chantry folk. To think that they were all dead was unreal, and to have everyone thinking she was responsible…even though she knew she didn’t do it, she still couldn’t help feel guilty.

They reached the edge of the camp quickly, much to Kara’s relief. A large wooden gate came into view, one that likely led to the path into the valley. Cassandra continued her impassioned speech about the Conclave and its importance, in addition to the late Divine’s wisdom and the importance of closing the Breach. She was right, of course, and Kara knew that, though it was hard to focus on much of anything at the moment; especially while walking through hoards of people who wanted her dead, and she not having any weapons or use of her hands.

Two soldiers pushed the gates open for them as they approached. As they stepped onto the bridge, Cassandra motioned for her to stop. She turned to face the young woman, reaching behind her as she did so and pulling out a dagger. She pulled Kara’s wrists closer to her, and before the young woman could object, she had sliced clean through the weak metal and let it fall to the ground. Kara exhaled in relief and rubbed her wrists slightly.

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more,” Cassandra told her.

Kara could only imagine what a trial by the Chantry would be like for her. The only suspect in the brutal murder of thousands, including the Divine herself, with no way of proving her innocence who also happens to be an apostate. She knew she’d have better luck being covered in honey and thrown into a bear cave in the Hinterlands.

“Come, it is not far,” Cassandra instructed.

“Where are you taking me, exactly?” Kara asked, knowing it couldn’t be anywhere good.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach,” she explained.

“A smaller rift, then?”

“Precisely.”

Kara didn’t question any further, and instead followed Cassandra across the bridge. They weren’t running, but their pace was quick enough for everything to move past them in a blur. There were people everywhere, Inquisition soldiers and various Chantry folk. Kara couldn’t tell if they were staring at her or not, and frankly, she was starting not to care. She had a job to do, and no one was going to get in her way; especially not with Cassandra in charge of her.

Another set of gates opened for them at the end of the bridge, and they made their way onto a snowy path. Every few yards there were small blockades set up, one or two soldiers guarding each. Occasionally there would be more soldiers running past the two women, usually in the opposite direction; and judging by the one soldier screaming “it’s the end of the world!”, it didn’t seem like anyone should be heading where they were.

Eventually the steep path leveled out, and they had a better view of the Breach than ever. The sickening green glow emanated from the eye of the Breach, trickling all the way into the valley below. It was almost hypnotizing, as it was impossible to keep one’s eyes off of it. At least, that’s how Kara felt.

“AGH!”

Her reverie was cut short as another shockwave pulsed through the Breach, causing yet another painful burst of energy through her arm. It knocked her down to her knees, and she was helpless to do anything but cradle her arm to her chest until it was over. Cassandra calmly knelt down in front of her and brought her up to her knees once more.

“The pulses are coming faster now,” she declared with a gentle pat on Kara’s shoulder.

“Great,” Kara muttered, glaring down at her hand.

They immediately resumed their course, and Cassandra chose to break into a jog after a few moments. Kara somehow managed to keep up, despite feeling like utter shit. Every time her mark grew, she felt energy draining from her; and she was inevitably becoming weaker. More than that, though, according to Cassandra, the damn thing was actually killing her. How it didn’t kill her the moment it was embedded in her hand, she couldn’t even begin to imagine. Come to think of it…

“When I was found…” Kara began, almost unsure of how to phrase her question. “What did…how did I survive? The explosion not only killed everyone at the Conclave, but it caused the Breach!”

It was a fair question, at least as far as Kara was concerned. Cassandra probably thought she was joking at this point; she was still the only suspect, after all. Still, she was willing to cooperate, despite their dire situation.

“They said you…stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious,” she replied, a hint of amazement in her voice.

It was Kara’s turn to be amazed…and stunned.

“I stepped out of a rift? So…I was in the Fade?”

“It would appear so. They also said a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”

Likely the same woman who reached out to me…

“Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough,” she continued. “After you emerged from the rift, we took you into custody and placed you under close supervision in the prison. You were unconscious for the past three days.”

Kara’s eyes widened. “I was out for three days?!”

“Indeed. We were unsure as to whether or not you would ever wake. But now you have, and Maker willing, your mark will help seal the Breach. Now come, we must keep moving.”

The pair made their way to yet another bridge and were met with more soldiers headed in the same direction. They sped up to join their ranks, but about halfway across the bridge, chaos ensued.

A blast of green light shot out from the Breach, barreling down on their position and shot right through the stone. The bridge gave out underneath them, and the blast itself caused a small explosion. Kara and Cassandra were thrown down a slight embankment and onto a frozen pond; though, there was no sign of the other soldiers. It took them each a moment to gather themselves, Kara slightly longer in her weakened state, but they were back on their feet in almost no time.

That was when the real trouble began.

Another blast of light came hurdling towards the pond, breaking through the ice a few yards from the two women. For a moment it was quiet, and in the tense silence, Cassandra stepped slightly in front of Kara. The two of them eyed the spot where the ice broke, and within seconds, the water was bubbling. It began to glow the sickly green of the Breach, and the bubbling grew faster and was accompanied by a cloud of steam.

And from the steaming abyss, a sloth demon emerged.

“Stay behind me!” Cassandra ordered, drawing her sword and shield.

The beast let out a terrifying roar before making its way towards them. Cassandra ran towards it at full speed and immediately started slashing away with her sword. Kara felt helpless, having had no weapons and far too drained to utilize what little mana she had. All she could do was watch as the woman battled the beast, praying to the Maker that she was truly as strong as she looked.

Her worries for Cassandra were cut short as she felt a familiar rumbling beneath her feet. She looked down, and just a few feet ahead of her, large bubbling began to crack through the thick ice. Kara began to panic, scrambling to find something, anything she could use as a weapon before the demon emerged. She whipped her head this way and that until finally her eyes settled on a large wooden box; likely one of many thrown from the bridge explosion. And much to her relief, resting just next to the box was a longsword.

She lunged for the weapon just as she heard the ice break behind her, landing on her knees as the creature let out a throaty roar. She felt the beast sliding towards her along the ice as she scrambled to grab the sword. It practically fell out of its scabbard when she grabbed the hilt, and she whipped it behind her just in time to block the demon’s advancing claws. Its hand clanked against the sword, and it let out a shriek as it thrust its other arm towards her. Kara blocked the second attack with ease as she rose to her feet, then immediately went on the offensive. She slashed at the creature’s left arm, embedding it into the sinewy flesh and earning a sickening shriek. It retaliated with a hefty swing from its other arm, catching her briefly on the shoulder. Its claws stung, but not enough for Kara to lose focus, and she took the opportunity of its proximity to kick it in the midsection. To her surprise, it doubled back, and its temporary loss of balance allowed her to charge in for the killing blow. She jammed the sword straight through its head, and with a gargled shriek, the demon slumped onto the ice.

Cassandra had finished off the other demon a few moments prior and began to make her way over to Kara. The young woman didn’t even realize she still held her sword as she stared down at the creature’s corpse, but it quickly became clear that Cassandra had both noticed and took issue with it. She approached Kara with her own sword pointed and her eyes glaring.

“Drop your weapon. Now!” she demanded.

She can’t be serious, Kara thought.

“Wait, I-“

“I said now!” she repeated, taking a step closer.

Kara’s frustration was resurfacing. How was she going to convince this woman that she needed to be able to defend herself? Wasn’t what they just encountered enough?

“Just listen to me for a minute!” Kara shouted back. “If we encounter more demons, I need to be able to protect myself. You can’t defend me against an entire hoard by yourself if it comes to that.”

She knew the tone she used was risky, but it was necessary. Cassandra thought about it for a moment, and judging by the slightly softening expression on her face, she knew Kara was right.

“You’re right,” she agreed, sheathing her sword. “I cannot expect you to be defenseless.”

Kara took the opportunity to grab the scabbard off the ground nearby and fasten it to her belt. She sheathed her own sword and approached Cassandra, who had clearly been considering her words.

“I should remember that you agreed to come willingly,” she reminded herself.

Kara nodded. “Thank you.”

“We should get moving. Come, it isn’t much farther now.”

The pair left the area and resumed their course to the rift. Cassandra made it a point to mention that they would likely not encounter any of their soldiers until they made it to their destination, so any resistance they would face would be theirs to deal with alone. And sure enough, there was resistance.

Within the first ten minutes alone, they encountered nearly half a dozen demons. Fortunately, they were either on their own or only in pairs, and they were relatively weak; taking them down could have been harder. Unfortunately, though, as they encountered demons along the way, they also encountered the bodies of dead soldiers. It appeared that their numbers were crumbling.

They continued to make their way through the valley, crossing over frozen streams and sliding down embankments. Every few minutes, they’d encounter more demons, and every time they’d slay them with minimal issue. Eventually, they came to an intact set of stone stairs built into the side of a mountain. Cassandra recognized them immediately, prompting them to continue forward. It didn’t take long before Kara started to hear the distant sounds of swords clashing and men shouting.

“We’re getting close to the rift! You can hear the fighting!” Cassandra called from behind her.

“Who’s fighting?” Kara asked through ragged breaths. “I thought you said all your men were elsewhere!”

“You’ll see soon. We must help them!”

Kara didn’t know what to make of that statement, and at that moment she didn’t care. Just seconds prior, she became aware of the mark flaring up in her hand once more. It wasn’t like the shooting pain that came with a pulse from the Breach, but more like small sparks of lightning accompanied by a flare of green light. She wondered if it had something to do with the nearby rift…

They reached the top of the stairs and Kara soon realized they were in the remains of a building not far from the temple. There was barely anything left, save a short set of stairs and traces of where stone walls once stood. Just down the stairs, though, was the fighting the pair had begun to hear moments prior. There were no more than five or six soldiers present, fighting against almost as many demons. And floating above them all was the rift.

It glowed the same sickly green as the Breach, though it was a fraction of the size. At the center of it appeared to be a large emerald stone, warping into various lengths that jutted outward in all directions. Kara took one look at the demon-seeping tear and immediately realized that she had no idea how she was going to seal it. But she knew she had to try.

She and Cassandra unsheathed their swords and dove into the fray. With the assistance of the other soldiers, the demons were dispatched within minutes. The rift remained, however, and they all knew the danger wasn’t over with.

That was when an elven mage stepped forward and grabbed Kara by the wrist.

“Quickly! Before more come through!”

Before she could even protest, the elf thrusted her left hand up against the rift. The mark lit up upon contact, sending a shock of pain down her whole arm. Kara grit her teeth, holding back a scream as she noticed the rift beginning to warp and collapse in on itself. After a few more seconds, the rift exploded into a ball of light, and it was gone.

How did he do that?

Kara scowled a bit as she turned to the elf, who had since released her hand.

“What did you do?” she asked him as she subconsciously rubbed at her wrist.

He smiled as he gestured to her hand. “I did nothing. The credit is yours.”

She looked down at her palm. “You mean…the mark?”

He nodded. “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake. And it seems I was correct.”

Cassandra had been briefing the few soldiers fighting the demons, advising them to head to their forward camp. Upon hearing his explanation, she approached the group.

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself,” she added.

“Possibly,” the elf mused, turning back to Kara. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

The key to our salvation. He spoke the words so calmly, yet they held such weight. The mark closed the rift successfully, of course, but the Breach itself was ten times as big at least. Kara was surprised at how sure, and how calm, the elf seemed about it.

“Good to know. Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.”

These words came from someone Kara didn’t notice, initially. It was a dwarf, standing just off to the side casually adjusting his coat. He then turned to the group and casually strolled up to them, a crossbow on his back and his shirt unclasped to expose a mane of golden chest hair. He seemed a bit out of place on the battlefield, but confident nonetheless.

“Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tagalong.”

He looked up at Cassandra and winked at her, earning him a scowl that any other might’ve found intimidating; it only seemed to amuse him.

Kara simply smiled politely, but couldn’t help thinking his name was familiar. Then it hit her.

“Wait…not Varric Tethras the author…?” she checked.

He chuckled and spread his arms wide. “The one and only.”

Considering everything that had happened thus far, Kara was surprised to be confounded by encountering a novel writer in the middle of battle. Still, he appeared to be as equipped to kill demons as she was, so she went with it.

“Well it’s good to meet you, Varric, but…what are you doing here?”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, and his demeanor sobered a bit.

“Technically I’m a prisoner, just like you.”

Cassandra stepped forward. “I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly that is no longer necessary.”

“Yet, here I am; lucky for you, considering current events.”

Kara cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Well, it’s, er, good to meet you, Varric.”

The elven mage chuckled behind her. “You may reconsider that stance in time.”

“Awww, I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles,” Varric quipped.

“Absolutely not,” Cassandra declared harshly, approaching the dwarf. “Your help, is appreciated Varric, but-“

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore! You need me.”

He flashed her a grin and stared at her a moment, and she responded with a disgusted groan. As she turned to put some distance between them, the elf once more approached Kara.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” he greeted with a smile. “I am pleased to see you still live.”

Varric chuckled. “He means ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’”

Kara almost didn’t know how to respond. She was aware that the mark was a danger to her very life, but how truly close was she to death? Clearly she was much closer while she was unconscious, and it seems this elven mage knew more about it than anyone.

“You seem to know a lot about all this,” Kara observed, trying not to sound accusatory.

“Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters,” Cassandra explained.

She was surprised he was still breathing, considering he was knee-deep in Chantry folk. Under normal circumstances, she supposed she’d feel the same way about herself.

“Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra,” Solas pointed out; an observation that was not entirely incorrect. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin.”

Kara had to admit that his attitude was impressive considering how much danger he was in; not just from the Breach, but from the Chantry. The Circles may have dissolved, leaving mages “free” for lack of a better word, but that didn’t mean they were safe. Having been an apostate herself, for nearly the last decade, she knew the danger well.

“Well it’s good of you to be here, even with the risks. And I suppose I should thank you, as well,” she told him.

He nodded, then turned to Cassandra.

“Cassandra, you should know, the magic involved here is unlike any I’ve seen,” he informed her. He shot Kara a quick glance before adding, “Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

Fuck. They know. But, of course they would; she couldn’t mute her mana while she was unconscious. Why was he the first to mention it?

“Understood,” Cassandra replied calmly.

“Right. So, anyway, er, prisoner…” Varric chimed in, looking up at Kara. “I know as well as anyone that even prisoners have names. So, what do we call you?”

She hesitated a moment. The dwarf seemed genuine, even eager to be friendly despite her present status. Maybe he was crazy; maybe he was fishing for information. Either way, Kara knew that they would likely find out everything about her sooner or later. A first name wouldn’t hurt.

She exhaled. “Kara…my name is Kara.”

[rizlowwritessortof]

If We Don’t Make It...

@whispersandwhiskerburn - Angel, I made it!! :D 

This fic is for Angel’s 2K Follower Celebration - congratulations again, girl!

My song prompt was “Broken” by Lifehouse, and the dialogue prompt was “If we don’t make it out of this, I need you to know...”

Here’s a little taste of the lyrics:

The broken locks were a warning You got inside my head Tried my best to be guarded I'm an open book instead I still see your reflection Inside my eyes That are looking for a purpose They’re still looking for life

Sometimes darkness can be so absolute.

You lie there for a second, listening. Then you try and shift your body, feel that everything is still there and mobile, not trapped under debris or broken or bleeding profusely. “Dean?” you whisper, then try to move. God, it hurts. All of it. You feel like a football team used you as a tackle dummy. “Dean?” you say a little louder, then force yourself to sit up, moaning softly. You hear a rustle nearby, and you freeze, not sure if it's him.

A clutch of panic freezes your lungs for a moment, your heart pounding almost painfully in your chest. It couldn't be the wendigo, Dean shot that thing right in its gut, and you saw it burst into flames before it reared up, hitting the rotten timbers of the ceiling and sending them crashing down on you both. The opening you had entered through is now sealed off with tons of dirt and debris, but at the moment, you just want to find Dean.

A groan and the sound of movement shifts your attention directly to your left. “Dean! Are you okay?”

A quiet 'fuck!' reaches your ears, and then, “I'm fine. Are you hurt? Can you move?” You reach out a hand and collide with one of his, and he holds on firmly. “Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“I don't think so. I don't think anything serious. How about you? Damn it, I wish we had a light!”

“I... I think I might have a slight problem.” A flare of flame sears your retinas, leaving you momentarily blind before vision fades slowly back in the glow of his lighter. You inhale sharply at the sight before you, your hand flying to cover your mouth for a moment before speaking.

“Shit. Dean... shit.”

He lets out a laugh that’s half-moan. “Yeah. Kind of impaled myself here.”

“Dean… omg…” You squeeze your eyes shut tight for a second, internally yelling at yourself to stay calm, to act like everything’s going to be fine. It will. “Give me your lighter for a sec, let me see if I can find something to use for a torch.” He nods, swallowing hard against what you know must be overwhelming pain. You take the lighter, scanning around the room, trying not to gag at the remains of the wendigo’s past meals lying in random piles here and there. There are a few human-type touches here and there, probably from someone he… well, already ate. The creature had piled the belongings of his past kills in a corner, and you head there, digging through, hoping to find anything helpful.

A canteen, mostly full, sloshes as you shake it, and you put the strap over your shoulder, continuing your search. There are a couple of flashlights, and – hallelujah, a lantern! A backpack, heavy with its load, gets slung over your shoulder next, and you set the lantern up, lighting it before closing Dean’s lighter.

“Gotta say, I wouldn’t give this place four stars,” he jokes, his voice rough and strained.

“Oh, I don’t know – look at all these amenities,” you smile back, fighting like hell to keep the waver from your voice. You move quickly back towards him, setting the lantern down close by. “Let’s have a look at that, shall we?”

You brace yourself, digging through the backpack to hide your face, hide the struggle to control yourself. The first thing you pull out is a bottle of whiskey, and you close your eyes in gratitude. A first aid kit? Awesome! You keep digging, finding energy bars, a couple of bottles of water, aspirin, matches and several other little gifts that just might keep you sane and alive until you get out of here.

If you get out of here.

You finally take a deep breath and lift the lantern to look more closely at Dean’s injury. He has a piece of rebar protruding from his chest, a couple of inches below his collarbone on the left side. His face looks pale, but his skin doesn’t feel clammy and he’s not showing any other signs of shock. Yet. You hold up the whiskey bottle, twisting the top and breaking the seal. “Want a swig?”

“Oh, hell, yeah,” he rasps, and you slip a hand beneath his head, lifting it carefully and letting him use his good hand to help control the flow.

“So – anything else broken or busted up that I should know about?” you ask, trying to keep things light. It’s not easy, because right now you’re scared shitless. 

“I don’t think so. This’ll kinda take your mind off the bumps and bruises,” he manages to say, his teeth clenched together as a wave of pain hits.

“Just lay still. I’m gonna see if it’s possible to dig out of here.”

“One more belt of that whiskey before you leave?”

You settle back on your heels, putting your hand to his face, and your emotions almost win for a moment or two. “Of course. As much as you want.”

After you help him drink a few swallows more, you move to find a couple of pieces of broken beam, hauling them over to prop his legs up. Then you strip your jacket off, shaking your head at his protests.

“I’m gonna be warm, I’ll be digging. We need to keep you from going into shock. So just take it easy, cowboy. Let somebody take care of you for a change.” You tuck the jacket, still carrying the warmth of your body, around him carefully, then venture a look at his face. He’s looking up at you, and the expression there puts a lump in your throat. You bend to kiss his forehead, then stand abruptly and make your way over to the pile of debris that blocks your exit.

You begin to pull at the broken timbers, focusing on moving one thing at a time, determined not to let defeat weigh you down. One chunk of wood after another, and when you find a piece that’s small enough for you to manage as a shovel, you dig the dirt away as you work. The longer you work, the more angry you get. That creature, that murdering asshole is not going to win. You will not let Dean die down here.

It feels like it’s been hours. You’re exhausted, no idea what time it is, but if you don’t rest you’ll collapse. You drop your makeshift tool and make your way over to Dean. “Hey, how’s it going?” he asks, and you battle back the sob that tries to make its way from your throat.

“Slow. I need to rest for a bit.” He looks up at your, a glint of pride in his eyes.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Just c’mere, get some sleep. We should probably conserve the lantern, anyway.” You nod, blinking back exhausted tears, and sit down at his right side before extinguishing the lantern. You feel his arm behind you, and you lay down, head on his shoulder, letting him hold you close in the inky blackness around you. You let your arm creep over his middle, resting on his belly, and hold him right back.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s disconcerting when you wake, your eyes finding nothing to focus on as you open them. It takes you a moment to get your bearings, to realize where you are and what woke you. Dean shivers, and you squeeze your eyes closed, a wave of fear washing through you. You have to get him out of here. You feel carefully around until your fingers land on the lantern. You click Dean’s lighter a couple of times to get it going, and light the lantern, then turn your eyes to Dean’s still-sleeping face. You lay the back of your hand gently against his cheek, then his forehead. He feels hot, feverish, and a clutch of panic twists in your belly.

You carry the lantern over closer to where you are working, trying not to let the desperation of the situation overwhelm you. You will get him out of here or die trying, you tell yourself, and start working.

You actually start seeing a faint light through some spaces in the cave-in, and hope blooms in your chest. You are re-energized, yanking timbers free and tossing them aside, digging at the dirt with your crude shovel, and you turn towards Dean with a smile. “Dean, I can see light!”

That’s when it happens. The earth rumbles and you scream angrily at the fresh load of debris crashing down, dirt crumbling in around your feet. The wreckage blocking your way is just as bad, if not worse, now, the corridor outside filling in even more, your hard work made pointless. “No!! Damn it, no!” You lose control, shouting obscenities as you claw into the obstruction, pulling pieces free and flinging them wildly, digging with your fingers until you are spent and fall to your knees, sobbing.

Dean’s voice calling your name brings you back, and you grit your teeth, making yourself stop. He needs you, and you have to get through this. You grab the lantern and make your way over to where he lays, dropping to your knees beside him. “I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry. It was working. It was working, but it’s all closed off again, and I don’t know if I...”

“Stop. Y/N, just stop. It’s all right.” He reaches for your hand, and swears softly. “Jesus, sweetheart, look at your hands.” Your face crumples again, and he pulls at you with his good arm, urging you to come closer. You bury your face in his uninjured shoulder, sobbing quietly as he hugs you tight to his side, murmuring calming words, his lips in your hair. “Please don’t cry, sweetheart. Please. It’ll be okay.”

“How is it gonna be okay? The one time you need me to save you, for once – and I can’t do it. You’ve always given everything for me, for Sam. I just wanted...”

“Listen.” The command stops your rant, and you turn your face up to look at him. “You worked your ass off shifting all that shit. You did the best you could, sweetheart. As good as Sammy or I could have done. It’s not your fault there was another collapse, it was bound to happen. And Sam is out there looking for us, okay? He’s looking for us, and he won’t stop until he finds us. You know that.” He looks into your eyes in the dim light, searching. Then his fingers grip the back of your head and pull you close, his lips gentle as they cling to yours. “You’re my hero, you got that? My fucking hero.”

Another little sob escapes your lips, and then you kiss him back with everything you have in you. As you pull back a bit, the lamp flickers, then dies. Dean cradles your head against his shoulder and holds you there for a moment before he speaks again. 

“I need you to listen to me, okay?” You nod, your head nestled against his neck, and he hesitates for a few seconds before he continues. After a shaky breath, he speaks softly. “If we don't make it out of this, I need you to know...”

“Dean! Please don’t say that!”

“You said you’d listen.” You bite at your lips to stop the words from bursting out, then nod again. “You know how I feel about family. You’ve been family to me, and to Sam. But in case we don’t get out of here, you need to know, before it’s too late. You’re more than family to me. You’ve always been more. I just never had the guts to tell you. Sorry I waited so long.”

You prop yourself up beside him and put your hands on his face, bending to kiss him. “I’ve loved you for so long,” you whisper against his lips. You kiss each other breathless, and then he moves just a little, groaning with pain. You sit up, feeling around in the darkness for the bottle. “How about taking me out for a drink?”

“Never let it be said I don’t know how to show a girl a good time,” he retorts, his voice strained with pain, and you grab one of the flashlights so you can guide the bottle to his lips. You both take several slugs from the bottle before you put the top on and shut off the light. You lie down at his side again, letting his arm surround you, clinging to him as much as you can without causing him pain.

You wake slowly, your head pounding. You hear muffled shouts, thudding noises, and you sit up, your eyes wide, reaching for the flashlight. “Dean! Dean? Do you hear? Someone’s here!”

He stirs a little, clearing his throat. “Yeah. I hear it.” His voice is faint, and a sense of urgency forces you to your feet. You rush over to where the doorway used to be, shouting at the top of your lungs. “Sam? Sam, is that you? We’re in here! Dean’s hurt, but we’re okay, we’re alive!”

~~~~~~~~~~

You walk into the bunker, breathing deep of the scent, books and coffee, gun oil and men and comfort. “What?” Dean asks as he stops behind you.

“Nothing. Just good to be home.” You look over your shoulder at him, smiling. His eyes are warm, sparkling as he teases you.

“Wait till you see how good it is when you actually, you know, go in.” He grins as you stick out your tongue, then head down the stairs.

He fights you, but you insist on putting him to bed. He's still fighting the fever and infection, although it's a damn sight better than a couple of days ago. He strips down to his boxers, even with his arm in a sling, and actually lets you help him get into a pair of sweats, then hits the pillow with a sigh. You cover him up and bend to kiss him, standing to leave, but he grabs your wrist. “Aren't you getting in?”

“You – want me to stay? Here?”

He looks at you, scanning over your features for clues to what you're thinking. “You know what I said back there, in the mine?” You nod hesitantly, your lip between your teeth. “I meant it. It wasn't just the heat of the moment, or me thinking I was gonna die. I meant what I said. Did you?” His voice is soft, his eyes showing the faintest hint of fear as he asks.

“I meant every word, Dean.” You can see the tension slip away from him as you speak, and he smiles.

“Well, then, yeah. I want you to stay.” You feel a little bubbling surge of joy, and you return his smile with a big one of your own.

“Okay. But first I want a long, hot shower. The one the nurses let me use at the hospital was barely a trickle.”

“I told you to let Sam take you home.”

“And I told you I wasn't leaving you. I'm just dying for our wonderful water pressure so I can feel like I really cleaned all the stink of that place off my skin.” You squeeze his hand and pull away slowly. “I'll be right back.”

When you come back he's down for the count, breathing deep, his good arm flung out to his side as if he's waiting for you. You stare at him for a few quiet moments, fully aware of how close you were to losing him. Then you push that painful thought away and climb in beside him, tucking yourself in close to his side. He sighs, his arm folding you in even closer, and you smile. His voice rumbles in his chest as he speaks, his face nuzzling into your freshly blow-dried hair.

“If we don't make it out of this – it'll be the best fuckin' thing that ever happened to me.”

Tagging my usual lovelies - don’t faint, I actually wrote something! (I know it’s been a while):

@saenalife    @salvachester    @misswhizzy    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog    @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid    @aprofoundbondwithdean    @mamapeterson    @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel    @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @jessica-bones-winchester    @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess    @deangirl96    @iamflanneltrash    @deanslittleangel2y5    @melanie451    @juliaspnlover    @lovin-ackles    @spectaculacular-sammy    @dyingforlove1992    @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean   @avasmommy224    @shadowlightforcast    @tonifish    @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @angelofwinchester17    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain    @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester    @typicalweirdbookworm    @purplecocopops    @feelmyroarrrr    @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit    @youtoldalie    @tanithlowisabamf    @deandoesthingstome    @jxackles    @nerdwholikesword    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic    @kreweofimp    @deansbaekaz2y5    @trippleberrydeanpie    @gabavaldman    @chaos-and-the-calm67    @darkx143    @disassociativedogma    @ioanashalala    @jencharlan    @deansthirst    @randomvlogstuff    @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms    @dorky-and-i-know-it    @mischief-maker1    @hamartiamacguffin    @winchestersandwordprocessors    @percussiongirl2017​    @bringmesomepie56​