#sowwy if my writing looks rusty

[reginrokkr]

"I'm sorry but I have to do this at least once - please don't zap me!" This was all the warning that the traveler would give before he scooped up the small Tinysleif into his arms, encasing the little potato cake in an embrace that he did his best to not make extremely tight. Being impulsive was something that got him into trouble sometimes, but also acting on his emotions was just a part of him and Tinysleif was too cute to not give a squeeze!

Confusion and curiosity reflect in icy sapphire depths spotted with stars at the suddenness of the statement. What is there to apologize for? What is there to zap him for? Unbeknownst to him, Dáinsleif would find out sooner than later. For Aether’s actions seem to be as swift as his words that the Twilight Sword of old is struggling to find sense for still as he moves to scoop him up. The deed alone does naught but add to Tinysleif’s confusion that settles on a frown, not by the act itself, of course— he appreciates greatly how kind and gentle is his touch, but out of sheer ignorance of where this is leading.

Dáinsleif was never an individual known for seeking physical contact, after all, and he is certain that the traveler caught wind of as much during the moments they spent together. Mostly fighting hand in hand against the Abyss Order forces.

...Oh.

To say that the Bough Keeper didn’t anticipate this outcome is an understatement. Snow white features burn in shame as soon as his prominently smaller form is pressed against Aether’s in a tight embrace. Not too tight to cause any kind of discomfort, regardless. The first set of thoughts that cross Dáinsleif’s mind are in the likeness of whether he is so stern that asking directly for a hug becomes god’s work. If perhaps the solidified trust betwixt them is not sufficient to request one. Or maybe— maybe the fact that Aether is fully cognizant of his reluctance to touch more than necessary is the reason why he daren’t ask.

Cyan irises soften thereafter, astral pupils trembling within their orbits when the first set of thoughts is dispelled to give room to a whirlwind of sentiments that wash over him in tidal waves. Comfort. Kindness. Warmth. Dáinsleif has re-learned how nice human warmth is these past days since that Abyss Exegete dared to enchant him in this state. Nevertheless, there is an underlying feeling interwoven with a simple act such as an embrace that he cannot deny. How long has it been since the last time he felt the safety that comes from being surrounded by someone else’s arms in a genuine, kindhearted gesture? Most importantly—

For how long did he yearn to reminisce what it feels like once again?

Ultimately does Tinysleif grasp onto the white fabric of Aether’s scarf with his little hands, face burying into the fallen seraph as much as he can in the semblance of a reciprocated embrace. A mental note to be followed at a later time to remind the traveler gently that should he wish to hug him in a future occasion, there is no need to act so abruptly or assume that a negative reaction will come out of it. For now, he will remain perfectly still to bask in this affectionate touch for as long as Aether wills it. He may draw something from this experience that Dáinsleif ignores, but so does the prophet in reaffirming his humanity. That he, too, needs someone else’s warmth even if he is no longer mortal.

@risingsol ✦

[ephemereon]

30 pour ara et tamtam (après l'incident de l'eluvian bien sûr) :v

There goes our feels :’) thanks for the ask I’ll probably write more these days because I can’t draw lol. Also I’m very rusty, so this can be full of… mistakes. :V sowwy30. “I’m fine.”for Aralc Mahariel and Tamlen.

Night has fallen on the camp, and the wardens have just finished their dinner. They returned to their routine, some talking to each other, others remaining quiet and listening to the ongoing conversations.

Aralc was verifying her bow, as usual after every battle. Fortunately, there was no scratch nor signs of weakness of the wood. A noise coming from the surroundings alerted her ; she recognized those sounds. Darkspawns. The others noticed it too and seconds later everyone was on their feet, weapons in hand. Blades were slaying, arrows struck their enemies. The darkspawns were numerous, but the wardens ended them all.

As they looked around, commenting on how they needed to make fortifications, Aralc noticed a figure in the distance. She approached it, putting her daggers away. It looked… familiar. “You… Lethallan…” It spoke. Rough, sick voice. But it had a tone, something Aralc could never forget. “Tamlen ? Is that you ?” Her reason said it couldn’t be him, he died. After all, that’s what Duncan said. But deep inside her, she knew it was him. “Don’t come near me ! Stay away !” Tamlen ran away from the camp, but the redhead elfe followed him. “Tamlen wait !-Don’t look at me ! I’m sick… -Tamlen we can help you, I can assure you. Look, I’m fine ! I was tainted like you but the ritual… the ritual fixed it !”

Aralc’s mind was now buzzing : she needed to find drakspawn blood and maybe something in the grey wardens’ scrolls to make the ritual ? The other elfe looked sick : skin darkened, almost burnt. His beautiful blond hair were gone and his blue eyes were now yellowish. “No help. There’s no help for me.” Tamlen voice was husky, very different from the melodic low voice he had when… when he was himself. “The song… in my head. It calls to me. He sings to me ! I can’t stop it !-I know Tamlen, just let me-” She went closer to him but he took a step back. “Don’t want to hurt you, lethallan. Please… stop me…”

Aralc shook her head, tears at the corners of her eyes. “Can’t do that Tam, you know it. I have to try and heal you ! -Too far ! You cannot help me. It’s the only way, lethallan. I know you can… do this. You have to. For me.”Aralc heard steps coming their way : her companions must’ve wondered what she was doing. They’d show no mercy…She had to do it. She didn’t want to. She cursed the gods and the earth, and every living being on this land. “I wish we’d never found that cave…, she said. -Always… loved you. I am so sorry. It was all my fault. ”

He didn’t get the time to lunge at her : his eyes widened, looking at the dagger in his stomach. Then went back to Aralc’s face, drowning in tears, her hand still holding the dagger. “Thank you vhenan…”His body fell to the ground and Aralc dropped to her knees, grabbing the dirt, sobbing quietly.

He needed a proper burial. It would’ve been under a tree, like the clan’s tradition. But with the taint, it probably wasn’t a good idea. She screamed in anger ; she could’ve saved Tamlen when it was still possible, at the beginning. She shouldn’t have listened to Duncan, she’s should’ve trusted her instinct.

She finally took out the dagger from Tamlen tainted body, wiped her tears and rose up. They needed to dispose of the body - in the most respectful way.

you can send on if you want :)