I'm giving up slowly, I'm blending in so that you won't even know me
Title: Finality
Characters: Elissa Cousland/Alistair
'Verse: Dragon Age: Origins
Rating: PG-13
They stare at each other in awkward silence, nervous smiles plastered on their faces. It's glory and pride and the fact that they're alive that forces their lips into these lopsided grins, the adrenaline of the battle still pumping through them.
They've won.
They're alive.
There's no silence around them, but she can feel it crashing against her. And her smile tightens up when his done, almost as though they are mirror reflections of each other. He looks away first, busies himself with someone nearby, and she takes a step back. Her eyes are always on him, no matter how far away she walks, her footing unsure as she slides over the slick stones and tries to not stumble over the corpses of the darkspawn that were slain.
Her armor feels heavier than it ever has before, tugging on her body, the pull of gravity forcing her against the stone walls of the fort until she slides down it. The sound of dragon bone and metal on stone makes her grind her teeth as her sword and shield drop. Her boots gleam in the light of the flames, casting colors of orange and red and yellow with eerie finality. For two years, everything has been building up to this moment, and now...
“Elissa!”
She blinks and looks up at the red-haired woman as she runs towards the warrior on the ground. “Leliana...”
“Are you all right?” Leliana crouches next to the other redhead, peering at her with the most worried expression. “You were not hurt, were you?”
Elissa sighs and smiles thinly and shakes her head. “I am just... content that it's over.” She almost wanted to say happy, but what exactly was happy about any of this, about these last two years that seemed to have lasted an eternity. Her words are soft, and she's unable to hide just how exhausted she is. “That the Blight is finished.”
Leliana's face relaxes from a look of worry into a bright smile. “We have done quite well, considering how far it is that we've come. The Maker is pleased, I think.” She stood then, towering over the woman, that smile still on her face.
“Go on,” Elissa says, shaking her head when her hand is offered. “I want to sit and think.”
Her eyes close, and she listens as the bard wanders away from her with soft footsteps. Fires crackle and triumphant cheers fill the crisp air. Blood stings her nose with every breath she takes. A heavy ache rests in her chest.
There's a creak of armor, and her blue eyes flutter open to stare into the face of the man she loves. He kneels in front of her, face too serious, the light in his eyes gone dark from this bloody war. He's lost as much as she had, gained as much as her.
“Alistair...”
In her mind, the image of his shock when she came to him with Morrigan's offer flashes bright and hot, forever burned into her memory.
He's been cold and silent, and with good reason, really.
The king-to-be leans forward, bowed much like a servant until his forehead is resting on her knees, and he takes a shuddering breath. “For a moment... I didn't think we'd make it. Silly, right? I mean, Gray Wardens are supposed to suit up and face demons dressed like giant dragons and hoards of darkspawn trying to gut us!”
There's a brief silence that she allows to fall between them before she laughs softly. At first. And then louder, desperate, and she's crying before she even realizes what's going on, tugging her gloves off and letting them fall before digging her fingers into his sandy hair. She lifts his head up, and there's a grin twisting his lips, tears streaming down his face as they laugh and cry together.
“I thought the same,” Elissa admits with a noise that seems to be a crossbreed between a chuckle and a sob. “I'm sorry.”
He rests his head in her hands, rubbing his cheek against her palm. Her thumb brushes over blood, smearing it on their skin. “I can't... say that the memory won't haunt my soul forever.”
“Give me some time. I'll fix that for you,” she promises in a lazy tone, the weight pressed to her chest lifting with each touch, each word.
Alistair takes a deep breath before moving forward, capturing her mouth with an intensity that burns through her. “I love you,” he breathes, and she kisses him again, holding tight to the man who is to be her husband.
Characters: Elissa Cousland/Alistair
'Verse: Dragon Age: Origins
Rating: PG-13
They stare at each other in awkward silence, nervous smiles plastered on their faces. It's glory and pride and the fact that they're alive that forces their lips into these lopsided grins, the adrenaline of the battle still pumping through them.
They've won.
They're alive.
There's no silence around them, but she can feel it crashing against her. And her smile tightens up when his done, almost as though they are mirror reflections of each other. He looks away first, busies himself with someone nearby, and she takes a step back. Her eyes are always on him, no matter how far away she walks, her footing unsure as she slides over the slick stones and tries to not stumble over the corpses of the darkspawn that were slain.
Her armor feels heavier than it ever has before, tugging on her body, the pull of gravity forcing her against the stone walls of the fort until she slides down it. The sound of dragon bone and metal on stone makes her grind her teeth as her sword and shield drop. Her boots gleam in the light of the flames, casting colors of orange and red and yellow with eerie finality. For two years, everything has been building up to this moment, and now...
“Elissa!”
She blinks and looks up at the red-haired woman as she runs towards the warrior on the ground. “Leliana...”
“Are you all right?” Leliana crouches next to the other redhead, peering at her with the most worried expression. “You were not hurt, were you?”
Elissa sighs and smiles thinly and shakes her head. “I am just... content that it's over.” She almost wanted to say happy, but what exactly was happy about any of this, about these last two years that seemed to have lasted an eternity. Her words are soft, and she's unable to hide just how exhausted she is. “That the Blight is finished.”
Leliana's face relaxes from a look of worry into a bright smile. “We have done quite well, considering how far it is that we've come. The Maker is pleased, I think.” She stood then, towering over the woman, that smile still on her face.
“Go on,” Elissa says, shaking her head when her hand is offered. “I want to sit and think.”
Her eyes close, and she listens as the bard wanders away from her with soft footsteps. Fires crackle and triumphant cheers fill the crisp air. Blood stings her nose with every breath she takes. A heavy ache rests in her chest.
There's a creak of armor, and her blue eyes flutter open to stare into the face of the man she loves. He kneels in front of her, face too serious, the light in his eyes gone dark from this bloody war. He's lost as much as she had, gained as much as her.
“Alistair...”
In her mind, the image of his shock when she came to him with Morrigan's offer flashes bright and hot, forever burned into her memory.
He's been cold and silent, and with good reason, really.
The king-to-be leans forward, bowed much like a servant until his forehead is resting on her knees, and he takes a shuddering breath. “For a moment... I didn't think we'd make it. Silly, right? I mean, Gray Wardens are supposed to suit up and face demons dressed like giant dragons and hoards of darkspawn trying to gut us!”
There's a brief silence that she allows to fall between them before she laughs softly. At first. And then louder, desperate, and she's crying before she even realizes what's going on, tugging her gloves off and letting them fall before digging her fingers into his sandy hair. She lifts his head up, and there's a grin twisting his lips, tears streaming down his face as they laugh and cry together.
“I thought the same,” Elissa admits with a noise that seems to be a crossbreed between a chuckle and a sob. “I'm sorry.”
He rests his head in her hands, rubbing his cheek against her palm. Her thumb brushes over blood, smearing it on their skin. “I can't... say that the memory won't haunt my soul forever.”
“Give me some time. I'll fix that for you,” she promises in a lazy tone, the weight pressed to her chest lifting with each touch, each word.
Alistair takes a deep breath before moving forward, capturing her mouth with an intensity that burns through her. “I love you,” he breathes, and she kisses him again, holding tight to the man who is to be her husband.