ABELAS; SORROW

dorfvir

Tamlen can barely believe that he’s  survived— When he had touched the  mirror, he had seen things he never  wanted to see, had touched the way into a damnation that was hard to believe. 

Now, he’s at Ostagar, he and his clanmate have been recruited into the  Grey Wardens out of necessity to not become darkspawn, and he isn’t sure whether he should be grateful or not.

Duncan gives them orders to go into the Wilds, and he follows the group of shemlen into the dense area, staying close to Mahariel.  ”… I don’t trust anyone here.” He says, perhaps a bit too loud. 

There's a growing smirk, despite his discomfort.  The shems at their backs, their fronts, causing weary glances. It's a miracle to be here, he knows, Duncan warning him of any antics he may get up to. It doesn't excuse the shems from their own, he had wanted to say. But ah, they're away from camp, surrounded by the wilds. It is better in the fields than the fort, he thinks. Especially with Tamlen at his side.     Which is cause for his smirk. The way he     isn't afraid to voice what he speaks about     the shemlen before them. Admirable, if not     dangerous. Not that Theven doesn't agree.     He's not a fan of murderers and thieves.     Yet...he would rather not a sword in his     chest.    "Neither do I." Softer, whispered. "But we     must continue. Duncan saved us both, yes?     Shem or not, we owe him our duty. The other     ones we...must simply put up with."

"Well— I am pleased my presence has lightened the mood for you.” Ashe joked playfully as he leaned against the tree. He grimaces for just a moment, the wound still twinging with mild pain and infection, but the worst of the ordeal was over with the deep roads far behind them.

"Would you care to join me for a walk? I wish to get moving again, lest Wynne captures me and forces me back to bed rest.”

Cue a snicker and laugh, face brightening up. Theven pulls himself from where he sat, head shaking as he made his way to Ashe. He's been wanting to spend time away from the camp, away from the deadline of the landsmeet. With every victory, every ally, it'd only grow closer. This? Having the chance to walk, to talk, to have a sigh of relief       He'd take it.     "You know," He starts, finally coming to a       halt at Ashe's side. "Listening to Wynne       is not all that bad. She is, after all, looking       out for you. For all of us. Sooner or later       she'll find out, and we'll all have to suffer       the wrath of the camp mother."

dorfvir

"THEVEN — .. correct?” the name he tugs from the tatters of the elvens mind. the singing, the loss, the duty —- the song of a warden, truly.                                   one he has heard rarely ;; but enough                                   to distinguish it. "I’d call you by your title but I was never a fan. MY NAME IS NOVI. Can’t see why you’d come seeking me, but I will greet you politely regardless.”

Gaze is fleeting at the mention of his name. Simple thing, a name, yet it brings back the memories he has yet to repress, to bury. They're a relief to feel, a relief to know that he hasn't changed completely. But as a Warden            He is the Hero of Ferelden. Not Theven Mahariel. Never Theven Mahariel.                  "Andaran atish’an. Novi."       ( weak, strained. throat working as he         holds back things to say, things to ask. )         "There are...matters I wish known. Understood."    It's all he says, shifting uncomfortably as the    nervousness, the anxiety, creeps from the dark    of his mind, his heart, spreading and spreading    and he gasps                            "You can help me."        ( it is more question than statement. )

I don’t mind                    not getting a happy ending

if it means                  you get yours…

try not to break your fist tyke, && i’ll try not to laugh too hard at your actual punch attempts

yes because a grey warden, the very same grey warden who slew the archdemon, can't hurt the bear man.  how about you stop while you're ahead

We bear a sacred burden.

          "Theven."

It was warm. Much warmer than any spell, or spirit’s name Ashe had ever spoken. He smiled as he leaned against the tree, arms crossed. The downtime seemed to be agreeing with him, although the wound on his chest he gained from the deep roads still hampered his movements.

       ”Enjoying the small break we have before we go         to Redcliffe?”

"Depends on what you mean by 'enjoying'."           It's a halfhearted jibe, smile growing across his           face with abandon. It's rare to have such a break,           to actually feel the trees, the wind, again. All the           worry he's been holding in, all the concern for            the man now steps away, seems to fade into           nothing. He needed this, no matter how much           he denied it.         "Though, I do concede that having you here           more than makes this 'enjoyable'."