GREY WARDEN (AP)

stellaluminis:

                       not many know the tales of yevralan’s adventures with the ill fated tamlen; how they snuck passed ferelden guard and stole from orlesian nobles and found themselves in situations more than sticky. that through the years they were always together --- there was no yevralan without a tamlen by his side, and here sits the warden, staring with glassy eyes into the amulet where he sees only his face. he is alone, there is no weight next to him such as there always had been. it was hard to cope with the pain of it.

                           he continues to stare at the reflection as she speaks, not once does his gaze lift to meet hers. he misses those eyes, he misses that smile... it was wrong for him not to be there, it was wrong for that damned temple to play with him like that, it was wrong for it to play with either of them, and yet here they are. broken and bloody and bruise and aching for any kind of love from those they had lost. he watches her hold the amulet in the fire, a fascination for how she does it without burning, but he stares back down at the haunting smile instead, ‘maybe it can remind us why we’re out here... who we’re fighting for, you know? i don’t know...’

stellaluminis:

                       anger burns at the skin, it bubbles dangerously with the sadness thats woven it’s way to his core, the one that’s been there from the beginning. it was his fault, all of it -- maybe if he had been faster he would not have lost a love and maybe this blight never would’ve started to begin with. he hadn’t looked at the amulet, the more he stared the more tears threatened to spill over. instead it is held firmly in hand, a white knuckle grip that threatens to crush it between his fingers as he can’t get the image of a boy he once loved out of his head. he remembered little of the dalish, little of the home he once knew... he only remembered tamlen, he only ever remembered tamlen.

                         his feet are heavy against the ground, if anything he needs nimia but he will never really say it. dumping himself on he ground across from her and pulling knees to his chest before she speaks, ‘what?’ he asks bluntly, looking at how she holds the amulet in hand then to his held in hand, ‘i don’t.... i don’t know,’ is murmured as it is lifted as close to the fire as his hands will let him without burning, and soon enough he is staring, ‘it does... why do you think it does that?’

samahll:

                        how the night panned out; a victory while the sun still shined, dragon slain, old gods brought to their knees and an entire night to celebrate. contrary to popular belief yevralan was never fond of parties such as this, not since becoming an icon to a broken nation anyway. it was too crowded - it buzzed too loudly in his ears and too many people tried to talk to the elf at once --- and in turn he was never interested in talking to them back. thus instead of finding solace in the company around him, he drinks instead; a table in a dark corner with the more quiet herald. CURIOUS, really, no one had managed to bring the trouble out of the warden much like he did, perhaps it was the alcohol --- but he thinks it must mean something.

                         one arm lay draped over his face when the sun found its way through haphazardly pulled curtains, he was a heavy sleeper, yes, but it was hard to sleep knowing someone lay with you for the first time in years. his heart had thumped nervously in his chest whenever the other shifted --- the encounter was not new... though it felt it, and he had panicked before, but with the voice cutting through the silence yevralan simply sighs, ‘you’re absolutely right,’ he teases, a sly smile and a exhausted, short lived laugh passes over parted lips as he moves himself so the other could retract their arm (admittedly it was in a spot that twisted his back in a way it shouldn’t) and rolling onto his side to face him, ‘have fun last night?’

siimplewolf:

                      ‘and here’s me thinking I’M the one with no tact; at least i don’t threaten people. apology accepted; you know i would die for that girl,’

isene: