open post;

[propheretic]

propheretic dasharathi lavellan ( DA: I )	eleutheron fenris ( DA II )
( coding by whambam )

- leave a comment; blank, with pictures, with prompt, etc
- select character or i will; AU or OU or whatever
- will play dasharathi as companion
- presume dasha & fenris are unromanced, but OTA for whatever

Comments

dash dash dasha

[internal]

[ It's late at night, that's when the people sleep. Cole finds that he does get more tired now, but still he doesn't often take to bed; he wanders around dark Skyhold instead, and listens to the dreams and nightmares creeping like a song stuck in his head, a humming tune he never can quite quit. The Skyhold guard are used to him by now, though being remembered is quiet joy and terror all at once. He knows their names, and whispers each of them beneath his breath as they pass behind his seat atop the crenellation.

He sent the Inquistor flowers yesterday, or more accurately just a single stem left on his pillow, dawn lotus, though to be honest Cole has never understood why Dasha cuts the living beauty from its wild growth, he understand that hey mean more than just the poultices and potions they become to the slight elf. His friend. Who now approaches. ]

Hello.

[ Says Cole as quietly as the names. He wants to tell Dasha all is well, and yet a gloomy fog has settled in his brain and heavy as the whole world on his back, his shoulders tight against the pain, of knowing that there's nothing he can do to help that means more than a drop of clear, pure water can desalinate the sea. ]

[propheretic]

[ Dasha often has difficulty sleeping through the night, especially lately, especially here. He's still used to stretching out under the stars, curling up in a thin bedroll, taking the night sky as his duvet. The fine Orlesian bed in his quarters is too soft. He sinks into it, feels like it's just about swallowing him whole. He suffocates.

When he tries to steady himself by reviewing the events of the day, his chest tightens as though trapped in a vice. His scars ache. He thinks of the people counting on him, on this organization. He thinks of the price of failure, now and in the future. He must rise to the challenge--and he has, he has risen to every single one so far--but the way forward is more occluded than ever.

So he wanders, too. The dawn lotus is on his mind. Dasha's fondness for floriography is well-known at this point, but not many people reciprocate his gestures. He's twirling the stem in his fingers as he comes up beside Cole. ]

Lovely middle-of-the-night, isn't it?

[ He speaks softly, as ever. Cole's tension is plain, and not surprising, either. The transition from spirit to something more substantial has been troubling for him. Dasha's tried to help, tried to offer distractions and assurances. Like Cole, he wishes he could do more.

Dasha sits down, lets his thin legs dangle over the edge of the battlements. Swings them a little, like a child. ]

Let me know if you'd like to talk about it.