bakerstreet | You're my home

[compromise was hard and took some time, but an agreement was finally reached. every year if they finished a job or they had some time, they'd meet here at the griffon statue in Redcliffe, on the ides of Solace. (Alistair had made some sappy joke about the month they chose to try and get her to laugh.) Redcliffe because this village welcomes them warmly and without pressure. a friendly, safe place that's happy to thank them with quiet, peace...and excellent discounts. (never say that being a warden pays well.) the griffon because Seren loves them. (and, well, wardens maybe. but they agree that that's obvious and boring.)

if they were both there, well and good. they'd allow themselves a week together before going back to their respective business. if only one arrives, they're allowed to stay no longer than one month, waiting every day at the griffon at noon, before moving on. horrible conclusions are not allowed until ten years pass with no meeting or correspondence. no abandoning of missions and chasing them down. the other is simply too busy. that's all.

he agreed, and yet Alistair can't help but scowl to himself every time he's come to wait, and had to leave when the month was up. "too busy, that's all." like that's going to make him miss Seren less.

it's been...what, eight years now. he's missed once, and still worries that that was the time she was here. he was late another couple of years, but made it before the month was up to find he was the only one to show at all. two more years before the deal is off and he can go running to find her. ...or what happened to her. (don't think about that.) he considers breaking it a year early.

...Andraste's knickers, he feels old.

much older than he is, at any rate. weariness and an odd, general bitterness cause his shoulders to slump, his smile to come less easy, his steps to slow. when he first became a warden, he knew that it would likely be a thankless job, but there'd likely be some company. he never expected that working alongside the love of your life and then...not...could be more lonely than the life he knew before the order. if - no, WHEN - they meet, he'll never tell her about the mantra he had to cling to as the months crawled by: "one day less until I see her again." a desperate wish; his last thought before exhaustion took him each night.

so he waits, unsure if he still hopes she'll show...or almost expects too much that she won't.]

Edited (i made the length of time longer because pain :D) 2015-08-29 18:19 (UTC)

[the first year is easy; she's too busy following the leads Morrigan left for her to pay any mind to how long the nights may seem, how empty the days.

the second year is a sea-scented blur, a mess of maps and sights and knowledge she's too abysmally unprepared to take in to think of anything else. she devotes herself to her studies, fifteen and eager once again, and on distant, unfamiliar shores she forgets about time and home altogether.

the third year she's running from one place to the next, following ghosts and slaying other people's terrors. she goes from town to town when she can, craving human contact; this is the year her yearnings catch up with her, when no mysteries, no ancient tomes of lore can spare her the weight of her own thoughts, her sorrows.

(she dreams with roses and please, please wait for me, i love you, i love you)

when the land trembles and the sky opens, she waits. and then she lets herself be found and writes her letters and follows fires unto the dark places of the world all the while hoping and praying and i will not loose him, i will not.

(Andraste, but she misses her land and her dog and her lover, she misses everything.)

things get worse after that. and then get better, and then fuzzy and then she's so far gone and so set on seeing this impossible thing done that she gets it done. she moves and moves and stumbles but in the end victory comes and when she traces back on no longer strange roads, she feels-- so stupidly light.

young and hopeful and afraid and excited and a million of other things that leave her crying alone when first the familiar shores of her home come into view, hugging and kissing devious pirates that wave after her and call her friend.

and Sten was right, Ferelden does smell like wet dog.

wet dog and leather and rain and Andraste's grace and home and a whole new set of adventures that she's ready to ignore for a while, needs that can wait as she-- they have done, because the closer she is to her destination the more her heart flutters and her mind screams and her body trembles, eager and desperate and in no small amount scared because, really, eight years is an awfully long time to be waiting for someone, and--

(roses and stolen kisses and new scars where his shield wasn't there to cover her.)

--and it doesn't matter, since he's there.]

You're looking rather grim over there, warden.

[Her hair's so long now. loose and kept from her face (there's a scar over her cheek, near her ear, funny story, that one) with feathers and bells and wooden beads, and her eyes are painted with dark kohl, dark and deceivingly calm. the heavy cloak guarding her is concealing the uniform she's kept for this day and gods, but he's beautiful still.]

Your girl stood you up again?

[Elke goes practically insane with joy, barking and jumping around her with fevered energy, licking her hands with excited slobber. YOU'RE HOME! YOU'RE HOME! I MISSED YOU! I WAS GOOD! I WAITED! I REMEMBER YOU! DO YOU REMEMBER ME! I MISSED YOU! I WAS GOOD!

after a thrill travels up his spine at the sound of her voice (almost faded in his memory and burned into it at the same time), the distraction gives Alistair time to turn; it feels like eternity. as his eyes fall on her, it's an odd sensation he would never be able to properly explain: the world dimmed around her and yet colors brightened, and in an instant he realized how dulled and blurred the world had seemed to him only when the sight of her brought it all back into sharper focus.

she looks so different... but it's her eyes that he knows instantly, dark and glittering against the kohl, and the curve of her small smile.

his mind is blank. oh no. why now. say something, idiot.]

...Looks like it. Maybe- Maybe next year-

[he can't do it. he can't finish the quip. love was something he tried to ignore or forget to keep missing her from hurting too much, from being too distracting; now it's blooming in him so hard that it burns, rising from his chest upwards until it comes out as-

crying. he's crying. less than a minute in. how ridiculous.

good thing he doesn't care.

he starts to run. his bad leg twinges but he ignores it, the limp disappearing as he distance closes. it protests even more with added weight as he wraps his arms around her and picks her up, scooping her up so fast that her hair pillows into his face as he buries in her shoulder. he doesn't care.

he'd almost forgotten what she smells like so he breathes in deeply. much about it has changed; there's sea and unfamiliar earth, something burnt he doesn't recognize. but paper and magic and a little bit of flowers, that's all still there. he's so happy he could just

sob]

[she's laughing, a loud, brilliant, sound, falling to her knees to embrace the barking hound because yes, my darling, I'm back, of course I remember you, how could I not? I love you! with just enough time to get up in time to be held in turn and oh! but the world is spinning and spinning until everything's just a flash of warmth, of color, of her lovers' arms around her, alive and here and well and I love you, darling, I love you, I love you!

she's whispering it over and over against his ear, voice soft and secret because she does, she loves him still, after all these years apart and all their years together, a fire jealously kept burning inside her heart, the only talisman strong enough to guard her.

(my first and only, my last.)

she sighs into his hair, holds his face between her hands to kiss away his tears, to rain kisses over his face. beautiful, you're so beautiful still, and I love you, Andraste, I love you so much and it hurts, this love that is now free to rule her once more.

she presses their foreheads together, and sighs.]

I'm home.

[he sobs every time she says it, weeping so that air shudders in his lungs and makes his head light and his everything feel weak - with relief, joy, sadness. so much time lost to tell her the same, and now he doesn't have the breath to make up for it.

he's still holding her up as she kisses him over and over, brushing his tears away, putting her face close to his. just...holding her up, because he can, because he doesn't want to let go, because this is so much more important than thinking about silly things like his arms getting tired or his leg starting to scream at him.

his small laugh is wet and thick, gazing into her gorgeous eyes with his now red ones, and kissing her at last - long and sweet (if a bit damp).]

Took you long enough.

[damp is good. damp is-- it's perfect. the tears he gifts her with and the strong hands that hold her, the warmth that keeps her from breaking down. a steady, constant love-- a fereldan sort of love.

she holds his face between her hands and kisses his lips briefly, and sighs.]

Yes. But I didn't want to come back empty-handed. [and her smile growing.] I can't really make an honest man of you with nothing to tempt you with.

[okay no really his arms are getting tired... he lowers her a bit, but he's incredibly stubborn and inwardly refuses to put her down until he's ready to.

or, you know, if she asks.

his breath no longer shudders because it's stopped altogether, puffy eyes widening. there's a hint of reluctant hope as he almost whispers]

...You found it? A cure?

[her smile grows and softens and she's glowing, silently pushing his arms to set her on the ground once more. she needs the support to properly straighten her back and lift her chin and almost ten years of searching and fighting and hoping and missing you all come to this.]

I want girls with your eyes and boys with your smile and hopefully none with your nose

[oh.

He puts her down as she gently commands and then just

sits

on the ground.

absorbing. staring straight ahead at nothing

there is A LOT about that sentence to think about.

finally, after nearly a full minute's silence:]

What's wrong with my nose?!

[ah, she broke her warden.

how nice.

she sits primly by his side, hugging and clinging to a happily panting hound AND YES! PUPPIES! I HAVE THOSE, YOU SHOULD MAKE SOME TOO!, scratching his ears and simply enjoying the pleasure of his company.]

It's too perfect. It would look completely out of place without the rest of your face to do it proper justice.

Edited 2015-09-03 03:12 (UTC)

You're just saying that to make up for the grievous insult.

[he musters up enough of a steady lungful to chuckle, then snuffles and wipes his nose a bit on his gloved fingers, then wiping at his eyes.

then he just...looks at her, teasing out all the implications of That Sentence and working through them, mentally. (where to start, is the question.)]

...D'you mean that?

[she looks back at him with a very calm smile, arms full of mabari (SHE LOVES ME THE MOST!!!!), as if she had never left, as if this were just a day more in their lives.]

Darling, I truly love you nose.

[she reaches for his cheek with one hand, wiping a wet spot he missed.]

Now, if you're talking about the other thing, I did. Of course, you don't have to collaborate if you don't want to. [an eyebrow is raised.] Antiva is just a step away, after all.

[amazing. amazing. apart this long and yet falling back into old routines of teasing is so...easy.

he might just love her a bit more for that alone.

narrowing his eyes and lifting his chin at her in mock defiance, Alistair catches her hand (the one that's not wrapped around her beloved dog) in both of his, both as a playful "but you're mine!" and a sincere "I'm only joking. ...mostly."]

'Absence makes the heart miss the other option', is that it?

[she beams back at him, her bones and heart warm.

peace is such a strange, wonderful thing. you never quite know when it's going to hit you until it's already here, easy, happy banter filling the empty spaces she's been carrying.]

Just think about it-- girls and boys with his eyes and accent. It's very, very tempting, no?

I don't find it tempting.

[it's funny... he mostly laid awake sometimes worrying if she was alright, not whether or not she found someone else. call it trust or stupidity.

but...there really was another option. he'd forgotten about Zevran and...the flirting.

yet here she is.]

Guess I'll have to figure out how to make myself the better option again.

Edited 2015-09-04 03:12 (UTC)

Ah, yes. He never got to make you cross those borders, after all.

[she lets go of Elke then, graciously crawling to go and sit on his lap.]

That would be very wise. We'll need to go and make rounds soon, after all. [she rests her head on his shoulder, voice growing soft.] I have missed them.

Edited (dumb edittttt) 2015-09-06 00:44 (UTC)

[Alistair coughs, going a little red. maybe he hadn't "crossed those borders", but he'd. thought about it. maybe. ...once or twice. it's Zevran's fault for being so......

ahem

but then she's in his lap and he sighs, more than happy to be holding her again and to lean his head against hers (Elke, not wanting to be left out, sits and flops his head in Seren's lap). sitting on the ground and being stared at by the villagers, smiling or giggling knowingly, is of little consequence.

maybe he'd be more open to the idea than he was ten years ago, but what hasn't changed is his desire to be faithful to her. it isn't because of youthful ideals anymore; it's just powerful devotion, reinforced by time.

I am yours, and only yours, always.]

What, are we going to bring these theoretical children of yours on a tour of nations?

[she laughs gently at that, kissing his cheek. love is a funny thing; after so many years trying to keep herself away from its claws (after so many years of yearning for it) it was nothing short of amazing just how strongly it took her once she went through her Tower's doors.

she loves, and she loves all of them, and the longer she does the more she discovers how infinite the heart can be. she loves Zevran but she chose Alistair, and somehow she can live doing both things. she can love them as she can love the rest, as she can love whoever comes her way.

because she's free to do so.]

Last time I looked children don't pop out of you the moment you figure you want them, ser. I was hoping to send word of my arrival and set things straight with the Wardens first. [her expression softens, and her voice grows sweet.] I need to visit Wynne and Duncan as well.

[ohhhhh. um. maybe he should...mention...

he looks almost surprised at the last, though, and even he's not sure why. but his smile softens.]

We can definitely do that on the way. But when you say "straighten out", what do you...?

Many things must have changed while I was away, but a few more changes will be necessary still.

[her hand falls to the griffon adorning his chest, tracing its wings with care.]

And the faster they come, the faster we'll be free to live as we please.

[he watches the path of her fingers, something stirring in the back of his mind...which will have to wait. his eyes fix on her, unsure if he's the best person to--]

Did you not hear about Weisshaupt...?

[she stops, and pulls back.]

What happened?

[inhales to puff cheeks. blows out said air. sweet Andraste, he really wishes he didn't have to be the one to tell her. he almost doesn't know where to start...

he runs one (still slightly damp) gloved hand through his hair, stopping to rub the back of his head, all broadcasting those thoughts.]

Um. ...Maybe this isn't the best conversation to have while sitting in the dirt. We could go back to the inn and grab a pint, or-- Are you hungry? Or we could just, go back to the room I've got...

[it would be really, really nice to know that things will stay... well not fixed, but at least not... whatever it is happened now, gods, if he tells her the whole damn thing got set on fire she'll--

probably try to fix it, gods above, but she really hates herself sometimes.]

A bath would be lovely, dear.

[he leans back against the griffon to roar with laughter, discomfort instantly broken.]

Stupid me! Of course you want to do that first.

[but then there's the matter of a certain someone in his lap. and a certain dog in hers.]

As soon as we disentangle ourselves, I guess.

how did i do. rate me from "nug kiss" to "chantry"

YOU'RE THE CUTEST NUGBUTT

aw i wanted to destroy you ;n; thread soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdH7QoVfCSA

I'M STROOONGEERR THAN YEEESTERDaaaAAy

CURSES. i must try harder!!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izXScOqVhMM

YOU WON'T BREAK ME https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGvYSUY3F6c

I LOVE THAT SONG what happens if you break me... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0nSDOiAHo0

candy pops out of you. LIKE A TRASHY PIÑATA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLbFIbdsLF0

i am the worst trashiest garbage

the soul of the fiesta

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