rowancrowned | fade rift ✧ inbox

Stay for dinner with me, at least, ( a little coaxing, combing through her mind—is his room aired out yet? honestly, probably not. is julius's? he may be already in it.

probably he's right; he should return to the gallows before they set out. she'd prefer to see him off, but she'd prefer a lot of things, wouldn't she, that aren't entirely feasible.

yet. for now. he's patient, but she's not got so long to wait. )

Come upstairs, ( looping her hand at his elbow, ) I want you to have a look at something and see if you agree with me.

Of course. I would not wish to insult the cook. [ he needs no coaxing, but must, at the very least, appear somewhat unattached. he will miss having her at hand, but he will turn that towards putting things as they ought to be.

he lays his hand over hers on his elbow, and allows himself to be led. it is her home. it will always be hers first. she is safest here. ]

As you like. A new painting, my lady?

Something like that.

( nothing at all like that, in fact, when she ushers him up to her private quarters. the master suite, which she doesn't intend to give up if her grandfather returns, but nevermind that for now: it's half-unpacked and still quiet, but she's not yet touched her desk, her bookshelves.

they are orderly. they are not as she left them, and she is most precise about her things, her space. )

Something isn't right, ( pronounced with certainty. it's subtle, but she sees it and it bothers her. )

[ 'poor romain', he thinks, noting the decor change, and then 'that is a large bed'.

he extracts his arm, and leaves her standing there, taking a slow circle of the room. something isn't right- so something the staff would know not to touch, given that they are all familiar with the lady's preferences and quirks. nothing obvious, no hints that a wild animal or leviathan got in while they weren't looking.

if her books are arranged in a particular order, he cannot sense it nor pick out the problem. if not that... ]

I do not see it, my lady.

( her breath out is explosive, and on another day she might elaborate. her suspicions, her worries, the lingering frown when she'd offhandedly mentioned the neighbour she doesn't like the mood of-

but he leaves tomorrow.

maybe it's nothing.

maybe he doesn't need to worry about it, when he'll be too far to do anything. )

Nevermind it, then, ( finally, dissatisfied but not more forthcoming. ) Maybe it's only me. I wanted to talk to you about something else, anyway.

( cue jaws theme. )

[ despite a general sort of disagreement with the idea that they set it aside, he says nothing. he'll save it and prod her about it once he's on the road. the distance ought to shake something loose, make her more inclined to share with him what ails her.

when he'll be far away.

and unable to meddle. ]

Oh? [ brow raised, head cocked. ] What?

It was interesting,

( in that deceptive way she sometimes has, so steady that perhaps it's time to wonder why, )

that I didn't know what Luwenna Coupe ( as if the name is so distasteful it has to be picked out of her sentence with gloves ) was talking about. With regard to my husband.

( hers, hers, hers. does he need reminding? because she has teeth and a possessive streak a mile wide. )

I understand why you don't share your scars with everyone. I'd like to hear why I didn't know and fucking Coupe did.

[ warm, still, delighting in the sharp side of her, even though the dropping of coupe's name, up until she says scars, and then- ]

They are immaterial. [ calmly, coolly. ] You saw them when my illness afflicted me. I did not refuse you entry.

[ a step or two towards her, nonchalant. ]

Indeed, you should spread your anger among your father's staff, Alistair, all who accompanied us on that unfortunate ride.

Edited 2018-03-12 23:46 (UTC)

( he moves and she doesn't, small and stoic and staring up at him as if she can see right through, should she wish it. he can see her picking it apart for flaws, for something to be angry with. how much she'd rather be angry when she had been so afraid.

then, worse: not afraid at all.

how hard it had been to hold onto knowing. )

All of you ( abruptly, more insistent, threads of careful steadiness unraveling ) is mine, the whole of you. Nothing is immaterial.

( how horrendously close she'd come to having nothing of him at all. )

[ that is the problem, isn't it? flaws. for a people who wear their goodness on their skin. ]

As you are mine. [ smoothly, still patient. she is still half his size, even if her nails are sharp? does she have the reach? yes, likely. ] You thought Coupe had something you didn't? You, who hold all of my secrets? You, who I love?

( sink her claws in and make him feel it-- )

Do I?

( hold all of his secrets. )

[ dryly: ] If there is anything you wish me to enlighten you about, now would be the time.

I want...

( assurances that she'll never be afraid for him again?

unrealistic. unfair to ask for. she almost asks, regardless; lets her hand fall gentle to his waist when inclination would have her dig her nails in. a hint of tension remains, the implication of restraint. )

I want to be stitched inside of your heart so tightly you can feel me when it beats. I almost forgot you. I hate anyone knows anything and it could all just, it could have not been. You could have not been.

And even when I didn't know why, it felt wrong to think of anyone else, like something tugging on me I couldn't see- there's never going to be anyone else.

( that's sufficiently pointed he might twig she found the letter he meant for his death. )

[ using his words against him. he should have burned that letter once he was well. ]

In wedding you, I have bound my fëa to your... [ whatever humans have. ] It is not something than can be undone. It makes one soul of two bodies. As for forgetting me, well- I think I have left marks enough, and more the longer we are together.

[ softer. ] Gwenaëlle. I am well again. The illness was- abnormal. We do not sicken, not usually. I am here. I am not leaving.

You don't usually a lot of things, ( but she's relenting, a little. enough. ) It's only now past and you'll be away for weeks.

( she's never objected before; it's so small an objection, so quiet, but it speaks volumes of how jarred she'd been by that experience to say anything at all when she's so well trained herself not to. they're at war and there's much they have to live with that they might not wish. mostly, she breathes deep and lives with it.

and she will. just, she likes it even less today. )

You're very important to me.

[ he'll push his luck, close the distance between them. reach out and cup her face- and wrap a glamour around the room. he knows how this works now. ]

I will have the crystal. You might come with me, you know. Morrigan has been hinting about what we might see, Dalish who are not Dalish, and the dark sort of things that live on the forest floor. Much to write about.

[ if she actually showed any inclination towards coming, he would forbid it and use his authority to bar her from coming. luckily, not an inquistion member means she can't join them on official inquistion business. ]

Am I? I was wondering why you kept calling me husband.

( she hits the beat he expects in the face she pulls at the mere suggestion of trekking off to parts unknown to see dalish better left that way. one day she'll surprise him, but not today. today she tilts into his hand and presses a kiss to his palm, )

You're also a great trial to me.

( and anyone but morrigan she'd be criticising, too, but morrigan is perfect. )

My insufferable husband. You'll speak to me whenever you can?

[ he smiles, and bends to kiss her forehead, lingering as he is entitled to, even only in these private moments. ]

I fell through the rift to tempt you, mademoiselle.

[ his hand on her hip, too, an embrace that last only a little while and has no chance of turning into anything else. he is scheduled to eat here, and then return to the gallows. there is not time for more. ]

Naturally. As if I would be kept from it.

I miss you, ( very simply, ) when you aren't here.

( he knows, but it feels important to have said. to say things to him occasionally that aren't complaints about what an enormous pain in her arse he is, although he's that, too.

she leans in, leans her weight against him, her heavy velvet skirts tangling around his knees. rests there. thinks at least there's something satisfying now about missing him, about feeling deeply something that had nearly slipped out of her grasp.

all the little notes she'd written to herself and how they puzzled her, every time she found them. you love him. don't forget. she takes a breath. )

Wait. What are you and Morrigan up to now?

As I miss you.

[ it is certainly nice to have it spoken, as it is nice to have her close.

but, ah, this again, and he resists the urge to look heavenward or roll his eyes. ]

She wishes to speak with Dalish who are-- in all honesty, I am sure the distinctions would bore you.

Edited 2018-03-14 00:57 (UTC)

( having been put on this earth to sorely test thranduil's resolve not to cast his eyes up, she says, )

I don't know, I'm fascinated by the novelty of useful Dalish.

( doesn't she sound fascinated. )

[ he holds fast. ]

Like the scoutmaster?

Was she useful? I hadn't noticed.

( madam. )

The best mark of someone's usefulness is that all their good works are so seamlessly done as to appear effortless and unnoticed.

[ smiling placidly. ]

If I adopted her, I think that would make you her mother, no?

Edited 2018-03-14 03:19 (UTC)

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