#i sincerely apologize for my wolf-drawing abilities | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uwua3 · 4 years

Text

request: “Hello!! Just found your blog and I'm excited to see what you got installed for us. On that note, can I request Azuma x Reader who was Azuma's former client but they developed into a serious relationship? Thank you so much and looking forward to the rest of your writing!! 😊😊😊” — @sakura-1819

summary: azuma always left before morning came, but all you wanted him to do was stay

warnings: slut–shaming, derogatory “cat calling/wolf whistle” culture, violence, arguments

author’s note: i want to apologize for the long delay on this TT i hope you’re not too mad~ but you have every right to yell at me for taking so long !!!

word count: 3,357

music: high class women – jet black alley cat, lie – bts (jimin)

in your bed.

❄️🍶 yukishiro azuma

azuma knew all the red flags that came with spending the night with someone

if they asked to stay for breakfast? leave quickly, act like it’s against the contract (it’s not). didn’t let go in the morning? pretend to go to the bathroom and never come back. wanted to see him again during the daytime? azuma wouldn’t have them as his client anymore

azuma was the perfect cuddler—if you ignored his ability to trick anyone. he would lie and tell you sweet compliments that didn’t mean anything, he’d touch you the way you want but didn’t let you linger for too long, he would promise all these things with no intent to carry them out

he knew how to draw the line between romance and professionalism; azuma wasn’t going to deal with someone’s accidental developing feelings because he let someone fall in love with him

azuma was smooth like a snake and if you got too close, he wouldn’t hesitate to bite

he expected you to be another normal client. when he arrived to meet you in a nearby outdoor bar with an easy, practiced smile and natural ethereal appearance that made the whole room have their eyes on him, you were just like everyone else

your jaw nearly dropped, your eyes wide and skin flushed just from seeing him. he must have been the most beautiful man you had ever seen, you almost spilled your drink over the bar countertop (how innocent, azuma just wanted to take you to bed right away)

when azuma walked in your direction with a charming wink, you seemed to have made the connection as you instantly looked away, staring down at your hands with an expression of embarrassment. of course you were caught admiring the one person who you’d go home with that night

“is this seat open?” azuma hummed, his footsteps silent like a cat. you wondered how stealthy someone could really be, he even sat down elegantly without making any noise. before you could contemplate the ethereal man’s unusual trait, azuma spoke with the same effect as the gods

“azuma, here at your service for tonight.” azuma said, his voice like velvet as he lightly laughed at the blush on your face. you stammered out your name in response. he repeated it, it sounded even better coming from him

as you looked back up, you took in the sight of azuma being absolutely radiant in the purple neon sign just behind him. the yellow fairy lights decorating the roof illuminated his sharp eyes in the same hue. he leaned his cheek on his hand, his thin fingers tapping on his face as a small smile graced his lips. in a way, his silver hair almost glowed purple in the night life and you were afraid if you blinked, he would disappear

(azuma really was too much to be real, or mortal, to be honest)

“my dear, i believe we will have the best night.” azuma giggled, gratefully taking an order from the bartender (he didn’t have to look to know someone bought it for him) as he winked over the rim of his drink

he didn’t know what it was, maybe it was the influx of alcohol in his system or the thrill of being in power, but you were a delight. you responded to his every word with a honest reaction, keeping light conversation easily as you slowly opened up to him. azuma liked you, perhaps you could hire him again and become one of his regulars

after hours of getting to know one another over drinks, it was time for azuma to escort you home as he offered his arm, a pretty smile on his face when you shyly took it. you were borderline drunk, but azuma’s high tolerance kept you safe as he helped you stand up like a gentleman would

before azuma could ask for your permission to take you home (even though he had it in your client details form), a heavy hand rested on his shoulder as his back went rigid. of course he knew where this was going to go, it didn’t mean the confrontation was desirable

azuma turned his head and forced a thin–lipped smile, an expression only a person tired of shameless cat calls and wolf whistles could make. the man must’ve been a regular with how much he reeked of alcohol, azuma almost scrunched his nose at the way the predator was staring at him like he was a piece of meat

“how much for a—” the sleazy man started and before azuma could even tell him to leave, the bastard stumbled back with a thud as he held his bleeding nose

oh my god, did you just punch that guy?

you were suddenly much taller, standing with andrenaline–rushed anger as you clenched your fists, ignoring the pain in your knuckles. you stood between the man and azuma, glaring up at the jerk like he wasn’t a foot taller than you

“what the hell is wrong with you?! he didn’t let you touch him!” you called him out, pushing him back even more as you stretched your arm out, keeping azuma behind you. you were staring down the guy, who cursed and knew he couldn’t hit you without getting kicked out

“whatever, not like you’re worth a fight anyways, whore.” the deadbeat swore before he lazily left, stumbling over his own feet as azuma rolled his eyes at the comment, boredly looking at his own nails with distaste. wolves really acted like they were the alpha

“fuck you!” you yelled after him in your drunken rage, about to chase after him before azuma held onto your wrist, acting neutral for the most part but he had a warning look in his eye, like it truly wasn’t worth it (like azuma wasn’t worth the drama that would come from the bar fight)

“you poor thing, your hand must be hurt.” azuma said, slipping his hand into yours as he lifted your knuckles to his lips. you paused amidst your frustration, letting out a sound of surprise as you became flustered under the sudden attention

(it was working, you were distracted enough to forget. thank god for that, azuma wouldn’t know what to do if you had gotten into a fight)

“let’s get you home.” azuma hailed a taxi like it was second nature, letting you in as he said the address (you didn’t ask why he already knew it), buckling you in safely and running his thumb over your tight fist

as azuma watched the city pass by his window in a blur of lights, he felt you lean your head on his shoulder. he tried not to, but azuma knew his whole body was tense when he felt your breath on his exposed neck (this was a little too close, but maybe you deserved it after the night you had)

“azuma...” you whispered and the way you said his name made him think you’ve known him for years, your chapped lips ghosted over his collarbone as azuma gulped, looking down to see your tired yet determined eyes. you weakly pointed at him, furrowing your eyebrows as you nodded like what you were about to say was fact

“you—you’re not a whore. you’re not, no one should—” you hiccuped and shook your head, continuing, “no one should, treat you like that. i’m sorry.” azuma hoped you didn’t notice his slightly shaky fingers as he pushed a loose strand behind your ear, you smiled despite the redness in your face

“it’s not your fault.” azuma reassured, running his hand through your hair as you hummed against him, not noticing how hard his heart was beating against his chest. was that a blush on his cheeks? there was no possible way, azuma ignored the heat in his face and blamed it on the drinks

“stay with me tonight.” you mumbled sleepily, moving closer to him. you were crossing so many lines and boundaries that azuma had every right to reprimand you right now, but for some reason, he didn’t. azuma lifted his arm so you’d lay under it, and he did so willingly

“of course, that’s what i’m here for.” the words left a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought, only for tonight

azuma helped you up the stairs to your apartment, patiently listening to you ramble about anything that crossed your mind. he unlocked your door with your keys you had fumbled with for a minute or so, took off your shoes at the foyer, and assisted you to your own bed

(you had to go change and he gave you your privacy by facing the wall, waiting for your confirmation to turn around and help you get into bed)

“you have a lovely apartment, thank you for inviting me into your home.” azuma said and you barely acknowledged him, muttering something about city rent as you climbed under your blankets. azuma tsked, gently sitting next to you as he lifted the pillow off your face with a soft smile (you looked especially angelic in this light)

“darling, i simply cannot let you sleep with your make up still on.” azuma insisted to which you ignored. you tried going back to sleep but azuma had already somehow found your make up remover

you didn’t react when azuma began doing it for you, lecturing you about the importance of skincare as he patted your cheek, saying you were too young to have wrinkles

azuma leaned in closer to carefully remove your lipstick, your sheets pooled around your hips as your eyes landed on his lips, tracing the shape of them and committing them to memory

was it too much to say drunk thoughts were honest thoughts? because you grabbed azuma’s wrist, unaware of your proximity to him as you breathed out what was on your mind in that moment

“you’re so beautiful.”

azuma’s breath stuttered in his throat, his hand freezing mid–air as he noticed the adoring look in your eyes. there were so many red flags already—the intense sincerity, you really did mean it

(maybe, that’s why he wanted to stay)

azuma was about to stand up and leave you to your own means, hoping your drunken state would forget him long in the morning. this was too much, you weren’t like his previous clients who were so superficial with their meticulously placed flattery. you were very much real and so unbearably honest it made him uncomfortable

yet, you had kept your grip on his arm, staring at him with confusion as you whined. “i thought you were staying?” you asked, and something in your expression made azuma stop as he looked out the window. the glass reflected his uncertainty, as the cars below raced on the empty streets

“azuma?” you asked again, about to get up before azuma joined you in bed, taking you in his arms regardless of the warning bells going off in his head

“go to sleep, my dear. it’s quite late.” azuma murmured, letting you rest your head against his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist, hiding into him. azuma made sure the blanket covered your frame as he pushed your hair from your face, positioning it in a way so you wouldn’t have to brush the knots out tomorrow

typically, he wouldn’t sleep for a majority of the night. his mind was like the city that never slept, overthinking every little thing he did earlier that meeting as he stared up at the ceiling, knowing it would be the last time he saw it. he would think about what time to leave, which mask he should put on tomorrow, who he was going to pretend to be

but with you, azuma didn’t even have time to overthink that night. when you dozed off, he had followed suit without another word

for the first time in his entire career, azuma woke up to an empty bed

azuma sat up, about to escape without anyone noticing before you entered the bedroom, stopping at the door frame with a sleepy smile and a wave of your spatula

“hi, azuma. care for some breakfast?” you inquired, the smell of something homemade wafting in from the kitchen as you leaned against the frame, your baggy tee shirt hanging past your shorts. your hair was tied up and azuma noticed you had smile lines around your eyes (he didn’t)

azuma knew this was his turn to leave, to politely decline and refuse to let anything happen between them. he did this every time, and it was never hard to say no. yet, azuma watched the sunlight stream in through your bedroom window, the dust floating in the air as a blue sky welcomed him to today

it almost felt like a dream, maybe he was still sleeping. if he was, azuma would let himself have this, just this once

you were glowing in the morning light and azuma couldn’t help but agree, getting out of bed to come eat with you in the dining area

your living space looked different during the day. it was lived–in, from what he could tell. of course your home felt like you, it was welcoming and open. azuma rested against the chair after he helped you bring the items to the table, insisting on setting up after all the hard work you’ve done

the pancakes weren’t perfect by any means, the circular shape irregular and had an unbalanced amount of chocolate chips & blueberries. the orange juice was nearly overflowing at the brim, the utensils slanted near the plate, the fruit overabundant and a mismatch of flavors. yet, azuma loved it, and you blushed when he told you that

“i–it’s no big deal. i wanted to thank you for the night before, it was the first time in a while i slept that well.” you laughed, brushing him off with a wave of your hand as you sat across from him. azuma bit his tongue to refrain from saying “me too” before he did something he never thought he would do: eat breakfast with someone

like last night, it was surprisingly easy. for some reason, it felt like azuma had met you before. like you guys were friends in a past life and already knew everything about each other, azuma found himself telling you things he hadn’t told others he’d known for years

it was like all the red flags were just flags now

when he thanked you for the meal, you invited him over again for another night. azuma agreed, going against every single one of his rules as he promised to see you again (he meant it this time)

azuma began seeing you in the daylight, staying past dawn and watching the sunrise

he complimented you but it was heartfelt, genuine, honest, like you deserved. he let you place your fingerprints upon his skin without warning, slowly becoming used to your presence around him. although he made few promises, azuma carried it out every single time

during nights when he couldn’t see you, when he was with another client, azuma would leave sooner just to see you the next day

it was one of those nights again. he didn’t know what time it was, but azuma was making his way towards his scheduled appointment as planned

his phone buzzed in his pocket, which he casually was about to reject before he noticed your contact blink up at him. azuma stopped, glancing around before answering, unsure why you were dialing him in the first place

“you know i have a—” azuma teased, about to hang up before a sniffle came from the other line. were you crying? azuma picked up on the sound of glass in the back, the stillness of your apartment apparent through the phone

“azuma, i want you here.” you slurred, clearly drunk like the first night he had with you. azuma continued towards the bar that was minutes away, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out why you were drinking in the first place

“like i said, i have a client right now.” azuma reasoned. wrong move. you huffed, gulping something before slamming the cup down on your counter. you must’ve been in your kitchen, probably leaning against your table with your phone against your ear. it was so like you, azuma knew where you were just based on the background noises

“why? am i not enough?” you asked and azuma paused, unsure of how much he could admit. he walked faster, letting the wind carry through your speaker for a moment before he spoke warily

“of course you are, angel, what makes you say that?”

silence. then another drink being poured. ah, liquid courage

“you go to every other person’s bed, when you should be with me.” you ranted, your syllables mixing together and enunciation unintelligible but he heard you perfectly clear. azuma was afraid of what was coming next, but before he could’ve stopped you, you kept going

“why do you go to them when you have me?” you asked, your voice cracking towards the end. azuma wanted to say something that would’ve made you feel better, but the bar was right there and his client waved from across the street

“you know it’s the same.” azuma said and the message was clear. you were a client to him, that was all (at least, that’s what he tried telling himself)

“it doesn’t have to be.” you weakly argued and azuma lowered his hand, signalling his guest to wait a moment as he forced a pleasant smile

“call me back when you’re done and tell me if things are going to change, azuma.”

a click. you had hung up. azuma swallowed the hitch in his throat as he walked over to his guest, at the same bar he met you before

everything reminded him of you. azuma could recall every detail: the way you were speechless and taken away the first time you met him, your foolish bravery and need to make things right as you stood off with a man that cat called him, your brutal honesty about your feelings and holding nothing back. azuma ordered the same drink you had that night, and felt his fingers pass your contact one too many times

azuma could barely remember the client’s name, even as he entered their apartment and laid in bed with them. the moonlight seemed to spotlight his phone on the nightstand beside him as he stared at the ceiling. the shadows outside crept into the room, reminding him how much time had passed

when azuma had slipped out of the room much earlier than he had anticipated, it didn’t take long for him to start heading towards your apartment not too far from where he was, in the midst of putting his blazer back on as he held his phone to his ear

your phone rang but you didn’t pick up

by the time he was at your door, he was about to knock before he hesitated. azuma rested his forehead against the surface as he closed his eyes. the light in the corridor flickered

was he about to do this? to go against everything he’s ever established for himself? but, how many nights had he spent with you? he stayed for breakfast and kept coming back for more, he even helped you make it and clean up because he wanted more time with you. he let you cling onto him in the mornings and encouraged you to do so. azuma met with you during the daytime because he loved the way the light made you seem ethereal

the line between romance and professionalism was long gone between you two, and he wanted it that way

he let you fall in love with him because he wanted it, too

before azuma could knock, you called him. his ringtone echoed in the hallway. a rustle and suddenly you opened the door, your phone screen illuminating the dark apartment

azumxa answered anyways, bringing the phone to his ear as he smiled at you

“can i sleep in your bed tonight?”

#yukishiro azuma #azuma yukishiro #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #azuma x reader #a3! azuma #a3 azuma

125 notes · View notes

angstmongertina · 5 years

Text

FFXIV Write Day 4: Matchmaker

Day 4 for @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast‘s FFXIVWrite2019! We’re back with more fluff! And posting late yet again because grad school.

Prompt 4: Shifting Blame

Her friends were up to something.

That was the only possible explanation she had for why she suddenly found herself running into one Haurchefant Greystone at every possible turn, often with some object or another that she would later discover had been missing.

It started innocuously enough; it wasn’t overly uncommon for her to misplace her notebook, given her propensity for pulling it out whenever inspiration struck for some point of research or another and especially given Eorzea’s ability to find something new to throw at her whenever she thought she had a moment to herself. When Haurchefant knocked on her door and presented it to her, nearly tripping over Garnet for his troubles, she only thanked him and offered an apology on behalf of her unrepentantly sprawled carbuncle, thinking nothing much of the matter.

But then, of course, it escalated.

Papers, books, and even clothing all somehow found their way to a bemused Haurchefant, who was no doubt beginning to find her incredibly absent-minded, disorganized, or perhaps just downright rude to be leaving her things scattered all over a home that was not hers, of a family who had taken her in when they had no real reason to have to. The first of which, to be completely honest, was not entirely false, but it was the principle of the matter.

And the fact that some part of her didn’t want Haurchefant to see her as a complete and utter mess, let alone a boor, a thought that she buried deep into her subconscious for much, much later as soon as it surfaced.

At any rate, they had gone too far. How they thought they could get away with stealing her grimoire without her noticing it was missing, she didn’t know. For that matter, how they managed to take it from her without her noticing in the first place, considering she always kept it on her person, was a mystery she would have been fascinated by if she weren’t so damn irritated by the whole situation.

Her friends had claimed one of the parlors for their use, ostensibly to plan for their approach to dealing with the followers of Shiva. Whether or not they actually were was open for debate, one she found she didn’t much have the patience to discover.

“Where is my grimoire?!”

Eos jumped. Even Thyra visibly tensed, turning her head so quickly that her hair whipped Hishasha in the face. Shasha, bless her, barely seemed to notice, instead furrowing her brow in a very good imitation of sincerity. “Did you lose your grimoire?”

“No.”

“Then…?”

She grit her teeth. “I didn’t lose it but it’s missing. Where is it?”

Thyra crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do you think we know?”

“Because it’s always on my belt unless I’m using it or I’m in my room and it’s not there.”

Eos’ eyes widened. “So you think somebody took it?”

“No, she thinks we took it.”

She sighed. “What else makes sense? It’s not the first time my things have been gone missing and been returned.”

“But that doesn’t mean we know took it or even know where it is.” Always the voice of reason, Shasha was, and almost obnoxiously so. “Why do you think we took it?”

She opened her mouth, but before she could decide on a proper response, Thyra sat forward, a sudden, and horribly, knowing look on her face. “Wait, who keeps returning your stuff?”

“Oh!” Eos’ eyes were equally predatory. “Is it Lord—”

“X’ondarya?”

She closed her eyes, drawing upon every ilm of her self-control to not swear. “Haurchefant.”

Someone snickered, but when she turned around, Haurchefant’s expression remained endearingly earnest, even in spite of the turquoise carbuncle coiled around his shoulders… and the smug looks on her friends’ faces as they quietly, though hardly unobtrusively, left the room.

“I believe this book is yours? I found Mistress Sapphire… ah, exploring my quarters with it in her possession and thought it best to return it to you as soon as I could. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you without it.”

“I…” She blinked at her grimoire, realization filtering in, before glaring at her cheerfully purring menace. “Yes, it is. I am so sorry for her intrusion on your privacy. I thought I had taught her manners better than that.”

He laughed, the sound sending an additional burst of heat to her already bright cheeks. “Think nothing of it. You and yours are full welcome to consider Fortemps Manor your home. Mistress Sapphire is only taking advantage of all such privileges.”

“It is an honor I do not believe we deserve, but thank you.” Smiling in spite of herself, she took a step forward, reaching for the book and completely unaware of the large, golden carbuncle suddenly barreling directly towards her legs.

“Shit.” Thrown off-guard, she watched in what felt like slow motion as her surroundings tilted around her until she found herself colliding with something warm and solid and oh gods, if the Twelve could just take her now...

That last part she must have said out loud; he chuckled, his chest vibrating with the sound, before gently pushing her back upright.

“Careful there.”

She buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

A laugh. “Don’t be.” Warm fingers curled around her wrist, pulling it down to reveal his eyes, soft and gentle and breathtakingly sincere. “I’m not.”

From her position still perched on Haurchefant’s shoulders, Sapphire preened.

#ffxivwrite2019 #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #Haurchefant Greystone #Haurchefant Greystone/WoL #Tina writes stuff.#Tina plays FFXIV.#soft elezen bf #otp: a warm presence #X'ondarya Mitnu

7 notes · View notes

fuckingjohnprompts · 6 years

Note

Vamplock

oh my gosh i apologize that it took so long (also that it’s a wip-) but I hope you enjoy!

TheWolves were not only disgusting, dirty creatures, they were also abysmallyidiotic.

“Don’tyou say that to us too?” Molly asked uncertainly, her head tilted as sheglanced at him, watched him watch them.

“Yourpoint?” he muttered.

IfMolly had said anything after that, he hadn’t heard it. He hated to fall intothe clichés of their century long feud, but there was something about the waythose mutts prowled that stunk of misplaced superiority, and if there wasanything he hated more than attending galas in his brother’s place, it wassomeone thinking themselves better than he.

Thewolves were only passing by the city, on their journey to the deserts ofAhastier. Having gone through his brother’s files well before the gathering, heknew exactly what it was that they were after.

Personally,Sherlock was surprised his brother hadn’t showed his face - Mycroft pridedhimself in his ability to keep the world in line with his wishes. That thewolves would become near infallible should they find cure to their afflictionto silver could be… troublesome, and should be well within Mycroft’s concern.

Hiseyes, having swept over the room disinterestedly, caught on the blond wolfhumming in the corner of the room, in his arms a grinning human with bright eyes.

Humansgenerally didn’t care to be out and about with werewolves, or vampires, orgargoyles, or sirens, or anything that wasn’t of their own kind. They wereclose-minded that way, and the only exception he had met had been Donovan, whoonly hated him for undermining her, instead of his lack of humanity.

Nothingwas sacred in a hall filled with Vampires and Werewolves, and the thrillinglaugh torn from the human’s throat made something in him shift. Curiosity,perhaps.

Atany rate, it would take up his time.

Molly,who had been his attendant for nearly a decade, startled when he strode throughthe crowd, hurrying to follow. He took a glass from a near empty tray, makingsure to have some of the thinned blood spread across his lips.

Thewhole point of this endeavour was to entertain himself, after all.

Closerup, he saw the worn travelling cape the human had clasped around his neck, thedusty boots in a hall as grand as this, and allowed a faint sense of surpriseto flood him. He had come with the Wolves. A human had come with the wolves ontheir little classified mission, or perhaps he hadn’t known what he’d sign upfor.

However,watching the way the human’s hand was curled around the wolf’s shoulders,watching how they murmured amicably to each other, it was highly unlikely thathe hadn’t been told.

Thewolf, nearly a head taller than the human, stilled imperceptibly at hisapproach, his gentle smile fading as his green eyes flickered towards him.

Hefelt his lips stretch in a smile, just as the music reached a crescendo.

“MayI have this dance?” he asked smoothly, offering a hand to the human with a headcocked.

Thehuman, with an assemble just on the side of formal, all weapons – for Sherlockwouldn’t make the mistake of assuming him without, a human among wolves –hidden properly, politely, turnedtowards him, ocean eyes widening to the sight of his bloodstained smile. Therewasn’t as much of a struggle as he had hoped, as the man’s heartbeat calmed ina way that was most certainly practiced, dipping his head in a cordial nod ashe pulled away from the Wolf. He had a handsome face, if somewhat plain, linedwith age and worn with time. His cheeks were flushed, just slightly, a productbrought on by his dancing.

Thewolf backed away, but Sherlock could feel him hovering.

“Partner?”he asked in a rumble, slipping his arm around the human’s waist, tugging himtowards him firmly. Their fingers entwined easily.

Thehuman allowed him his manhandling, a small oofshocked out of him when their chests bumped. “Nothing like that.” He saidcarefully, his voice a pleasant tenor as he tried to shift away, his fingerstwitching against his shoulder. His head tipped to keep their gazes locked,barely pausing on his lips. “It wouldn’t be proper if I was… romanticallyentangled with my C.O.”

“He’snot your Alpha.” He hummed, turning his head away to catch Molly’s worriedgaze.

Hesmirked.

Tensionshad always been high between them and the wolves – a word out of place and theycould be looking at a war. He believed his brother to have taken special careto warn his attendant of watching over him tonight.

“Whatmakes you think I have one?” The human countered, both eyebrows raised. Therewas a small plastic smile playing at the edges of his lips, as he movedmechanically from left to right.

“Evenif I hadn’t seen the crest sewn into the inside of your cloak,” he said softly,bent to murmur into the human’s ear, relishing in the sudden uptick of hisheart, the sudden pounding of his blood just a finger beneath him. “Wolves areterritorial creatures, slow to trust outsiders. You are no mere soldier – youare human. You must hold quite a standing to have been allowed on thisridiculous trek, and yet,” he gently spun the human, watching him trail afterhim uncertainly. “You don’t know how to dance. A family member then, or afamily friend, to have volunteered you. No matter which way you look at it,none of these Wolves would have trusted you unless you were part of a pack.” Hetipped his head to the side, drawing the human’s wide, disbelieving eyes dartingto the numerous Wolves watching them, whether discreetly or not.

“Andas you can see,” he murmured, surprise flitting through him to see a half smilecurl the human’s lips. A real one,this time. “They are remarkably fond of you.”

“Theycould have just known me for a really long time.” The human argued, sounding atouch breathless; he pulled away slightly to look at properly the man. His eyesnarrowed slightly, to think that he had accidentally lost himself to the whitenoise of human blood, losing sight of the man himself. He hadn’t in a long time. The human’s eyes were astormy colour, and the flush of his cheeks had spread. Sherlock had the sudden,unfamiliar urge to follow it with his tongue.

“Ifthey did, you would have been accepted into the pack at some point.” Hereminded, his fingers spreading on the man’s waist, stroking once with his palmto invoke an involuntary shudder. “A pack has an Alpha.” He continued lowly,his teeth aching. “Logic.” He finished, hearing a low growl definitely meantfor his ears.

“Not mind reading?” the human asked, staringup at him with wide eyes.

Sherlockrolled his eyes heavenward, just about to snap out a sharp reprimand at thesurfacing of an old rumour, his patience diminishing, when he saw the grin thehuman tried to hide, ducking his head from his sight, and he suddenly felt at aloss as to what to do, with such a magnificent creature in his arms.

“Thatwas brilliant.” The human said, as if assuring a companion – an enjoyable companion.

Hehadn’t felt this wrong-footed since Irene.

“Wasit?” he asked softly; the rumble of his voice caused the human’s to pupils todilate, to his satisfaction and delight. He’d always known his features tocause heads to turn, but his tongue and dripping disdain usually warded themoff, usually had them watching from afar instead of coming too close.

Thishuman, however. This human withcoarse fingers curled warmly around his cold skin, his smile sincere andbreath-taking, and Sherlock might want to keep him forever.

Theyhad drawn the eyes of nearly everyone in the hall.

“MayI have this dance?” another voice said, accented and gruff. There was anunderlying current of amusement in his voice.

Thehuman seemed to tear his eyes away from him as reluctantly as he did, turningto face a wolf as tall as he, one he had spotted lounging by the candle-littables chatting up a forest nymph. There was a jagged scar running along hisjaw, one he certainly flaunted. He had ahead of windswept bronze locks, and a hand held towards the human, his headcocked to the side.

Sherlockdidn’t even have to look to know they were conversing without him – the human’sheartbeat stuttering with indignation and shame.

Theman finally dipped his head in a nod, reaching out to let the Wolf cradle oneof his hands.

Blueirises flickered to him; he saw his own eyes burning red reflected in them. Hiseyes had never glowed without hisconsent – he blinked, pulling his glamour over himself carefully once more.

~cookie-eat-me

#sherlock #toplock #bottomjohn #johnlock #vamplock #cookie-eat-me

58 notes · View notes

elfrootaddict · 4 years

Text

GROWING PAINS - Chapter 2/6

DESCRIPTION: Change. Growth. Hard truths. As the Inquisition’s Lady Herald, El’lana must step-up and help establish the orders’ influence. Many lessons are learnt and life-altering decisions are made.

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 4

“You ready to go kid?” asks Varric as he pops his head into Lana’s tent with Bianca rightly strapped across his back, and his chest chair exposed for all the world to see. Despite the fact that it is almost below freezing outside.

Lana offers a slight, polite nod instead of the truth. The truth being that her heart is pounding faster at every passing moment with the possibility of running into a real life-and-death situation today.

As Lana leaves her tent, she looks down at the ring that Tamara gave her almost two months ago and tries to steel her heart and mind. If she dies, then she will never see her family again. If someone gives her no choice, she will have to do what is necessary. At least, she hopes she can.

Lana walks towards her companions at the edge of the camp and sees Scout Harding discussing the day's route, “As I said to the Herald last night, follow this small path east, pass Calenhad’s Foothold, and you’ll see the path wind down north. The village will be at the end of that path.”

“Thank you,” responds Cassandra sternly. “We should be back before nightfall.”

Following Cassandra’s lead, Lana, Solas and Varric begin their small trek to the Crossroads Village. The day, albeit cold, appears to be a good one as the sky is clear with only a few scattered clouds and no icy breeze whipping through the trees.

Although the rest of her party has their weapons sheathed, Lana decides to keep her staff out just in case while simultaneously using it as a convenient walking stick. Every step she takes, every bend around a large boulder, she clutches tighter onto her staff’s handle. Her knuckles slowly turn white, and her jaw clenches down harder as her eyes continuously dart back and forth, fixating on every single rustle in the bushes or birds fluttering in the trees.

Suddenly, a hand is placed on her shoulder and she lashes out with her staff at the unfortunate soul behind her. Luckily, Solas is quicker to react and manages to grab her staff before it connects with his face, “Careful now, da’len.”

“Creators Solas, you scared the shit out of me!”

“My apologies. I simply thought you might want this,” Solas releases his grip on her staff and extends out his other hand, wherein Solas reveals a single branch of elfroot with it’s long stem branching off into larger, single leaves. “To help with the nerves.”

Bewildered, Lana takes the unseemly plant known for its numerous healing properties from Solas and murmurs with a sincere smile, “Ma serannas,” and continues walking alongside him. “Where did you find some?”

“I went foraging this morning at first light. It’s good to be—”

“Quiet!” whispers Cassandra as she kneels close to the ground, hiding behind a boulder. “There’s a group of mages up ahead. Be prepared.” and slowly draws out her sword.

Solas, Varric and Lana quickly huddle together low to the ground and hide behind Cassandra’s flank, shielded by the large boulder and some tall, thick bushes. With the elfroot still in Lana’s hand, she quickly plucks a single leaf off the plant's stem, and begins to chew frantically. The rest is then quickly put in a pouch attached to her belt for later.

With everybody’s weapons now drawn, and ready to defend themselves if need be, Lana’s heart begins to thrash inside her chest. With Cassandra being a Seeker, Lana begins to worry that Cassandra might find any excuse to hunt down apostates - just like the templars. But hopefully, based on Cassandra’s behaviour so far, Lana doesn’t believe Cassandra would seek or enjoy killing others unnecessarily. Even if they are apostates.

With each passing moment however, Lana’s heart luckily begins to slow and her nerves settle. With her mind beginning to clear, she can focus on her breathing and ability to open herself up to the Fade. Her sense of control slowly creeps up in the back of mind. All thanks to the wonders of the humble elfroot plant.

“They’re gone,” declares Cassandra eventually as she sheathes her sword. “They’ve gone west and luckily we’re headed north.” and with the imminent danger now gone, the group begins to relax and continue their way through the Hinterlands.

With the elfroot effectively calming her nerves, Lana's mind begins to drift from her anxiety to appreciating being amongst nature once again instead. Where the dirt is rightly nestled underneath her feet, the grass tickling her toes, and the trees being only a few arm-lengths away from her touch. The Hinterlands may not come close to what she had in the Free Marches, but it is a damn sight better than being cooped up by the cold, lifeless stone walls of Haven.

Lana quietly chuckles amongst herself as she knows Lhoris would hate this place. The amount of impossibly steep hills to trek on a daily basis, and where the trees are too thin and dense to climb quickly enough, and the rivers too shallow to catch a decent sized fish. Nevertheless, to just see her family again would bring Lana no greater joy in the world. Even if it was just to hear Lhoris complain, or Tamara fret over something trivial, or to listen to one of the Keeper’s timeless life lessons that Lana has already heard for the hundredth time.

Now having passed the rubble castle that once displayed the great and mighty Calenhad Foothold, Varric soon spots a sign - Crossroads Village - lying broken and scorched on the ground at the bottom of the hill.

“Something’s up,” remarks Varric cautiously. “Signs don’t fall down on their own. Or catch alight.”

“Agreed,” adds Cassandra, drawing her sword and furrowing her brows. “Stay alert.”

The party readies their weapons once again and slows down their pace as they turn in half circles so that they can catch anything out of place. Still following the path north, the group carefully wind their way through a tall, narrow stone passage and after a long, tortuous time of staying alert, Lana suddenly hears small muffled cries in the nearby distance, “Wait. Do you guys hear that?”

“I do,” answers Cassandra with concern. “There’s fighting up ahead in the village. Come on!” and then jolts into a run, causing the rest of the party to follow suit.

With their sudden and hastened departure towards the fighting, a surge of adrenaline courses through Lana’s body. With the shouting growing closer and louder, Lana tries to take several deep breaths to calm her nerves as she opens herself up to the Fade.

With the burning desire and full intent of seeing her family again, she tries to harden her heart and mind for her first battle against real, living people. If this was a battle against demons, she would have no problem, or hesitation, of ridding the world of them. She knows how to defend herself against demons and has done it her whole life. She knows how they think and how they behave. They’re simple, mindless and crude creatures.

But to kill another person? That is something else entirely. People are complex. They have friends, family and contain both good and evil within. However, for the sake of her family and the fact that only she can close the rifts, she cannot allow herself to die on moral principles. There is just far too much at stake and her mark is just too valuable.

As Lana draws from the Fade her staff’s head glows with a white-blue light. She then lunges her staff in the air and the magic expels out and over her companions, coating them in protective spirit magic. Solas notices Lana doing this and turns with an impressive, unexpected smile.

That is when their path suddenly opens up to the entrance of the little Crossroads Village and they can see three mages and two templars fighting to the death. From only a quick glance, Lana notices several dead bodies already littering the humble village. Blood and dirt intermixed and covering almost the entire village’s centre.

From what Lana can also quickly discern in a matter of seconds, is that most of the bodies appear to be that of mages and templars, but to Lana’s horror she then notices a few villages amongst the dead, too.

Now feeling angry and truly disgusted by the mindless slaughter of these innocent villagers, Lana decides to not heed the Keeper’s words this time and decides to use her fury to anchor her. For these mages and templars may not be demons, but they certainly act like them. Mindlessly slaughtering whomever is in their wake to justify their end goal.

With the enemies in sight, Cassandra runs ahead of the party and straight towards the heat of the battle while Varric takes a sharp turn left around a large boulder. Lana decides to run ahead with Cassandra to cover her flank with her shield magic, but Solas grabs her by the arm and yanks her to the right instead, “This way!” and leads Lana to a boulder with a better view over the village and battlefield.

As they reach the edge, Lana watches Cassandra take down two mages in almost one swoop of her blade. With the skill of an experienced warrior, Cassandra lunges her blade through one of the mage’s necks, and then immediately follows with bashing the second one down to the ground with her shield before running her sword through their chest. As she removes her sword, the last mage screams in a high pitched, grueling cry over their slaughtered companions and pulls out a knife.

“Blood magic!” warns Lana from above towards Cassandra.

But without a moment's hesitation, and his gaze already locked onto the blood mage, Solas quickly intervenes. Raising his arms up and then immediately lunging them back down, Lana witnesses a surge of white-blue magic fall down hard on the blood mage, immediately rendering them incapable of standing upright no matter how hard they try to defy the weight of the magic pushing down on them. Taking the opportunity, Cassandra lunges forward with a wide arch of her sword and slices the mage’s head clean off.

Having just witnessed such grotesque violence for the first time, Lana’s stomach begins to turn in knots and she needs to be sick. But with no bush or shrub nearby, Lana spins on her heel, falls to her knees, and lunges herself over the edge of the boulder as she relieves herself of the morning’s oatmeal.

Meanwhile, Varric has managed to take out one of the two templars, and just as Cassandra turns around from the beheaded mage, the remaining templar bashes Cassandra’s face in with his shield, knocking her off her feet.

“Halt!” cries Cassandra as she flails her sword hand in the air in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. “We are not apostates!”

“I do not think they care, Seeker!” shouts Solas from the boulder’s edge, and then turns to Lana. “Come, we need to get down there.”

Ignoring Cassandra’s plea, the templar brings his sword down regardless but she manages to block his attack with her shield just in time. With the templar’s back turned to Varric however, he quickly fires three perfectly aimed arrows straight through the templar with the arrow heads sprouting out on the other side. The templar drops his sword and shield as he falls to his knees and lands face first in the dirt.

Solas and Lana come around the bend to catch up with Cassandra and Varric in the middle of the little village, “Is that all of them?” askes Lana nervously. “Please tell me—”

Suddenly, as Lana turns her head she sees five more templars running down a path from the west and two more mages from behind a burning house in the east, leaving Lana and her companions completely surrounded and caught in the middle.

Without hesitation, Lana refreshes her protective barrier over her party while Solas simultaneously slams his staff onto the ground causing an explosive force of spirit magic to shoot up and out towards the oncoming templars, knocking the closest three completely off their feet and hurling them several paces back in the air. Their weapons rip out their hands and their helmets shoot off their heads as they land violently back on the ground, rendering them unconcious.

Varric then aims Bianca up towards the sky and fires five consecutive arrows into the air. With the wind’s direction taken into consideration, the arrows then curve perfectly back down towards the unconscious templars and pierces them through their armour, effectively pinning them to the ground.

Meanwhile, Lana takes a brief moment to look at Solas from behind in awe over such impressive, powerful magic. She also manages to take a quick mental note over the spell itself and the stance Solas used when performing it. With both of them pulling from the Fade simultaneously, Lana is able to feel the arcane energy surrounding Solas, and can tap into understanding how he did what he did. Being able to understand the magic used by another mage is like an unspoken language, and is impossible to describe to anyone who isn’t a mage.

Suddenly, a ball of fire flies past Lana, and hits one of the two remaining templars instead. The templar drops her weapon and begins screaming murderous cries of pain as she violently burns to death right before Lana’s very eyes. The smell of a burning flesh quickly hits Lana’s nose and she feels the need to be sick once again.

But with so much going on however, she manages to swallow her bile and takes a quick deep breath as spins on her heel to expel a wall of ice tall and wide enough to cover her and her parties eastern side. The same mage releases another ball of fire towards Lana’s ice wall but luckily Lana’s connection to the Fade is strong, and her ice wall absorbs the fire with ease.

“We are not templars!” shouts Solas from behind Lana and towards the mages as he carefully peers over the ice wall. “We mean you no harm!”

“I don’t think they’re listening, chuckles.” remarks Varric as he peers around the edges of the ice wall to shoot several arrows in the fire mages chest.

Cassandra then runs around the ice wall and straight towards the last remaining mage, deflecting their magical attacks with her shield. Unfortunately for the mage, Cassandra is just too quick before another spell is ready to be cast, and she runs her sword all the way through the mage’s chest, lifting them off their feet before kicking them off her sword with her boot. The mage clearly dead before they even hit the ground.

While Lana stands in shock and denial over the continued horror before her eyes, Solas slams his staff back down onto the ground and a focused bolt of lightning shoots out from the staff’s head, shocking a templar to their knees. Sprinting past the party and towards the templar, Cassandra swiftly kicks them onto their back and lunges her sword through their throat, piercing all the way through and into the ground.

With no more obvious threats around to look out for, Lana numbly watches Cassandra remove her sword from the dead templar’s throat and witnesses a seemingly endless flow of blood spew and gush out from the fatal wound.

After a while of waiting for more mages or templars to appear, the group eventually relaxes as they realise that the fighting is finally over and even if there are any left, they have most likely scattered deep into the forest by now.

“Is everyone alright?” asks Cassandra as she rests her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. “Herald? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” answers Lana with relief. “You’ve got a nasty cut on your forehead though. Here, let me heal you.”

“No that won’t be necessary,” refuses Cassandra with a brief wave of her hand as she stands up straight. “We can attend to our wounds after we’ve found the villagers.”

“Agreed,” adds Solas with concern. “Let us search for them, together.”

“Very well,” remarks Cassandra with a subtle nod before turning to Varric. “Stay here with the Herald. We’re going to look around.”

“You got it,” concurs Varric with a nod as Cassandra runs east and Solas west, and then turns back around to regard Lana with a gentle smile as he folds his arms across his chest. “You did good, kid.”

“Thanks,” murmurs Lana sheepishly, but then turns around sorrowfully as she sees the bloodied village with all the corpses surrounding her and Varric. “It’s uh... it’s just a lot to take in right now. There’s so much—”

Then suddenly and unexpectedly, at the corner of Lana’s eye, she catches a glimpse of a templar viciously leap off a boulder's edge just behind Varric. With his helmet removed and an arrow sprouting from his shoulder, she sees the murderous, vengeful and monstrous intent in his eyes. His mouth stretched out wide as he roars out a loud, intimidating cry.

And as if in slow motion and in a blink of an eye, Lana instinctively pushes Varric aside with her left arm while simultaneously slamming her staff onto the ground, just as Solas did moments before, with her right. With her connection to the Fade still strong she expels an explosive direct force that sends the, still mid-air templar, flying several paces back and across the village. The templar violently crashes into a fallen tree at an alarming force, and once the dust surrounding the templar settles, her heart immediately drops to her stomach as she notices a razor sharp, broken branch the size of a man’s arm sprouting through the left side of the templar’s chest, just above his breastplate. Panicked over what she has just done, Lana gasps for air as she sprints towards the impaled templar.

Flailing her staff to the side, she crashes to her knees and tries to assess the damage she has just done, “No! No! No! Creators, no!” her hands begin shaking uncontrollably as she hovers over the templar’s impaled body, unsure of what to do next. “You’re… you’re going to be okay! I’ll… I’ll heal you! We just got to get this out!”

“Lana!” shouts Varric from behind as he starts running towards her.

Still on her knees and her eyes filled with frightful tears, she turns to Varric still running towards her, “No, please! Help me! We need to help him!” and turns back around to regard the unconscious templar.

Having finally reached her side, Varric cries out sympathetically, “Listen, even if we got it out—”

The templar eventually gains some sense back and quickly notices Lana assessing his fatal wound. With vengeance firing in his eyes, he swings his right arm up to tightly grab Lana by the throat as he shouts. “Don’t you fucking touch me… you demon!” and spits into Lana’s face. But with so much blood loss, the templar quickly loses his remaining strength and releases his grip around her neck.

With his blood starting to slowly choke him from within, the templar begins coughing violently as blood spills out his mouth and down his armour in disturbing volume.

Ignoring the warm blood and saliva on her face, Lana presses her hands lightly around the base of the branch sprouting from the templar’s chest and then releases a white-blue pulsing energy as she desperately, and illogically, attempts to heal him, “I’m sorry…” cries Lana hysterically gasping for breath. “I'm so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to do it… I didn’t want to hurt you… I only wanted… I only wanted you to get away...”

“Herald!” cries Cassandra from afar as she runs towards them. “Step away!”

Solas also makes his way back, and once hearing his arrival, Lana looks up from the templar and cries, “Solas, please help me! There must be something you can do! We have to try! Please!”

Cassandra and Varric look at Solas with concern as he drops his head and sighs, “Ir abelas, lethallan,” and slowly kneels down next to Lana sympathetically. “He’s already dead.”

Unable to comprehend what she is hearing, Lana fixates her distressed lavender eyes onto Solas as tears still fall down her flushed cheeks. Eventually and ever so slowly, Lana reluctantly turns back towards the templar and confronts his lifeless body lying pinned to the fallen tree with his eyes glazed over, staring into nothing.

With Lana still using her healing magic on the dead templar, Solas subtly lays a hand upon Lana’s and gently guides them away. Once releasing his touch, Lana slowly brings her hands to her lap while still focusing on the templar before her. The templar’s warm blood now dripping from her hands and onto her specially made Dalish robe, permanently staining the fabric and intricately woven details.

Realizing it is truly over and there is nothing more she can do, the reality hits her like a ton of bricks falling on her chest. Exhausted from her hysterical crying, her breathing eventually slows as Lana becomes despondent while she continuously stares at the lifeless eyes of the templar before her. The man - the stranger - she killed.

After a moment of deafening silence, Cassandra eventually murmurs sternly, “This man meant you harm, Herald, and if he had succeeded the world would be in grave peril without you and your mark. You did what you had to do. Better it be him, than you,” but without so much as a response or inkling of acknowledgement from Lana, Cassandra sighs and decides its best to move on. “Varric, I need you to come with me. We must make our way back to camp as we need more men to secure the area and restore the village.”

“Of course,” murmurs Varric, locking his concerned gaze on Lana still lying on the ground.

“Solas,” utters Cassandra as she turns to regard the mage. “I trust you will look out for our Herald in the meanwhile?”

Solas looks up towards Cassandra and offers a subtle nod of agreement. With nothing more to say, Cassandra turns to leave the village. But before departing however, Varric moves in closer to place his hand on Lana’s shoulder and murmurs. “You… you just saved my life, kid. Thank you.” and quietly steps away to catch up with Cassandra.

With Cassandra and Varric now gone behind the rocky valley, Solas stands up and extends a hand to Lana, “Come.”

Lana slowly turns her head up to meet Solas’s soft and concerned gaze and eventually takes his hand. Once to her feet, Solas picks up her staff off the ground and hands it back to her. Lana takes it and slowly glides it into its holder across her back.

After creating some considerable distance between herself and the templar, Lana eventually turns around for one last gaze at the person she just murdered with her own hands, and then turns back around to catch up with Solas.

Solas guides Lana across a boarded path by the tiny pond in the centre of the village, followed by walking underneath a rickety bridge between two small buttes of earth. And then eventually walking to the top of a flight of steps next to a large, cascading waterfall.

After helping Lana sit down on the top step, Solas quickly finds an empty bucket lying around, places it between them, and then promptly sits on the other side. With a simple hand gesture, Solas fills the empty bucket with water as Lana stares blankly into the distance. Then, from the corner of her eye, Lana notices Solas swings his backpack around towards his chest and take out a piece of white cotton cloth.

Solas dips the cloth into the water and swirls it around for a while. He then pulls it out, wrings it of excess water, and stretches out his hand towards Lana, “Here.”

Lana looks at Solas despondently, takes the cloth, and slowly wipes her hands clean of the now dried up blood lodged between her knuckles and fingernails. Blood has even soaked between the crevices of the ring Tamara gave her, with the underneath planes of the stones no longer reflecting their true, clean colours. The purple amethyst now a dismal brown, and the white diamonds lying dark and pale.

With the cloth covered with as much dirt and blood as it could possibly absorb, Lana dips the fabric back into the water and tries to clean it. Once submerged however, the water quickly turns into a murky brown and the cloth, when pulled back out, is no longer white but stained and patchy. The blood has already set deep within the fibres of this once pure, white fabric and will no longer be the same again. Lana begins to imagine she is looking at her own heart, which was once white and pure, but is now permanently stained with the blood of that templar.

Lana rests the cloth on the edge of the bucket and looks up at Solas who, in between turning his head to look out for more trouble, hasn’t removed his gaze from her the entire time. Perhaps out of concern or maybe he is worried that she might do something reckless? Either way, Lana can feel his eyes on her and she eventually looks up in return, “Ma serannas.” and turns to look at the swaying bridge in the distance.

Solas then takes the blood stained cloth and dips it back into the bucket. Once again, he swirls it around for a bit, wrings out the dirty excess water, and passes it back to Lana, “Your face, too.”

Lana turns to Solas feeling slightly embarrassed by the fact that she completely forgot about the templar spitting in her face only moments ago, and takes the cloth back. As Lana slowly and gently wipes away at the dried blood on her young, tanned and taut skin, Solas watches her violet vallaslin, curved elegantly around her cheekbones and up towards her temple, reappear. Her eyelashes still wet from her tears, and her cheeks and nose flushed with a pink hue.

“It will get better,” murmurs Solas knowing there isn’t much he can say to ease her internal struggles. “With time.”

Lana just closes her eyes in frustration and release a loud sigh, “I just murdered—”

“But he was going to—”

“I don’t care what he was trying to do, Solas,” snaps Lana with furrowed brows. “At the end of the day, I had to kill a man to protect a friend,” and pauses with her gaze filled with anger and unrelenting guilt until she eventually murmurs. “Tell me I’m wrong?”

Solas keeps his gaze firm, but his response quiet, “You are not.”

Lana drops her head, turning away from Solas and shuts her eyes, “I’d like to be alone… please.”

“Of course.” murmurs Solas as he looks to Lana one last time before swinging his backpack back across his shoulder and slowly stands to leave.

As Solas reaches around the bend of a house behind her however, he suddenly hears Lana quietly singing to herself, which is almost completely muffled by the sound of the waterfall nearby.

Confused as to why she would be singing at a time like this, Solas turns back and carefully peers around the corner to observe, and that is when he not only hears but understands the lyrics of her tune. As only someone familiar with the elvhen language would be.

But only a Dalish elf would know the song's true meaning. A song Lana’s people would sing only when one is struggling with deep, personal sorrow. A song only sung when one is strife with pain and suffering. A song Lana’s people sang when they had to leave Halamshiral.

“Melava inan enansal

Ir su aravel tu elvaral

u na emma abelas

In elgar sa vir mana

in tu setheneran din emma na

Lath sulevin

lath araval ena

arla ven tu vir mahvir

melana ‘nehn

enasal ir sa lethallin.”

Elvish to English Translation:

“Melava inan enansal

Ir su aravel tu elvaral

u na emma abelas

In elgar sa vir mana

in tu setheneran din emma na

Lath sulevin

lath araval ena

arla ven tu vir mahvir

melana ‘nehn

enasal ir sa lethallin.”

Time was once a blessing

but long journeys are made longer

when alone within.

Take spirit from the long ago

but do not dwell in the lands no longer yours.

Be certain in need,

and the path will emerge

to a home tomorrow

and time will again

be the joy it once was

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

READ ON AO3

Halla & Wolf Series

#ElfrootAddict’s Halla&Wolf Series #ElfrootAddict’s Growing Pains #ElfrootAddict's El'lana Aemma Lavellan #Solas #Cassandra Pentaghast #Varric Tethras #Dragon Age #dragon age inquisiton #Hinterlands #Crossroads Village #dragon age fan fic #fanfiction

0 notes