bakerstreet | MY RESCUER Shipping Meme

❝My Rescuer❞ Shipping Meme

There is no possible way the two of you could have gotten off on better footing. One of you saved the other. You were complete strangers - or just as good as - yet someone put aside that fact and swooped in when they saw trouble like a guardian angel, whether because of their own moral reasoning or just being at the right place at the right time. The one who was saved? Well, they can't help but be grateful to their rescuer...and, perhaps, all that high octane emotion will lead to more. After all, you've never felt so much towards one person.

Will you be able to finally have peace alongside this person, or is all really as it seems?

How to Play

Comment with your character, preferences, and etc. Is your character more likely to rescue, be rescued, or either?
Reply to others.
RNG for your prompt and thread!

Prompts

No Hope: They were in a situation that looked incredibly bleak, such as being kidnapped or held prisoner. It was likely they would never see freedom or happiness again. That was something you couldn't stand for.
Life Threatening: It was a simple accident, but it could have ended their life. You stepped in and pushed them out of the way or caught them as they fell.
Harassment: Hey, leave them alone, pal! They clearly don't want your attention or your perverse remarks.
Stand Up: You're being tormented and verbally abused by your peers. Finally, though, someone steps in and defends you.
See Myself in You: They're different - like you are. You don't think they deserve to be treated this way...and neither would you.
Ridiculous: Uh oh. A giant octopus is attacking you! Can anyone, will anyone save you from certain doom?
Saved...From Boredom: Your life seemed like it was in black and white before this person introduced you to color.
Superhero: Saving people is your job. Why is this case any different?
Justice: What's happening before you is disgusting. You have to get justice for this victim; of course, that "justice" may also be needed for yourself and your sense of fragile reality.
Spur of the Moment: Rescuing someone was never in your plan, but you couldn't pass up the chance.
Love at First Sight: They saved you, and you fell. Or the other way around.
Bring Back Happiness: All that was good has faded until you got a new lease on life.
Guilt Complex: In the past, you failed. You'll never let anyone get hurt again.
Not Only a Job: Technically, you were hired to take this person from their captor to another captor, yet in the end, you changed your mind.
Warming Up: You can't help but soften towards someone you owe your life to.
Honor Among Thieves: Your record may not be squeaky clean, but there are acts even you cannot condone.
Gone Too Far: Your rage at seeing a living being treated this way has welled up, and the one who was victimized has to pull you back. Can they?
Hurt Because of Me: In your defense, your savior has been injured. You feel a certain sense of sinking culpability.
Patched Up: After the fight, both of you care for each others' mental and physical wounds.
Who Rescued Who?: They may have physically saved you, but you emotionally saved them.
The Truth Comes Out: You learned that your "rescue" was a fabrication to gain your trust. Has your relationship changed them? Even if it has, can you ever believe them again?
All's Well: Once out of the limelight and out of harms way, you two can explore the prospect of getting to know each other better.
Violent Delights Have Violent Ends: Your relationship ends as it began: with violence and despair.
Doesn't Last: All of your attractions are a flash in the pan. When it comes down to it, you can't make it work between you when there's no danger to draw you close.
WILDCARD

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yes, your mother. I don't have a mother."

He goes quiet while he thinks about it. He remembers now. "I heard Cole. He needed someone, he needed help. I wanted to help him so badly, but all I could do was be there, sit with him and hold his hand until the end. I needed to be on this side to do that. I can help a lot more on this side."

The details are scarce, but the bones of the story are revealing enough. "That shows great empathy. Something that templar could stand to learn."

In truth, her experience with spirits in the mortal realm has been unfortunate more often than not. Many summon with intent to harm, and many more are simply careless. She is aware that it is not always so, and she remembers Wynne, whose story was told by her Warden so long ago and only after she had sworn herself to the strictest secrecy.

It has been a long time.

"I once traveled with a woman who believed she had died shortly before meeting us and had been saved by a spirit."

Edited 2015-01-23 05:27 (UTC)

"Enchanter Wynne."

Cole knew her. He remembered her, and Faith. He didn't understand Faith, even now, but he had a distant thought they Faith was a bit like a mother, believing the best.

"I knew her son well. He was my friend. My only friend. He was very kind to me, even when I was difficult and confused and lost. He's happy now. I like that."

"You... knew Wynne's son?"

She had only heard of Wynne's child because Alistair was less than discreet one night over the campfire. It was not a topic Wynne had been interested in discussing with her. For better or worse, she is aware she was not always kind on their travels, but they walked the Deep Roads together, they set up camp together, they bled together: respect grew, however grudging, and it was enough.

"I am sure that if he is anything like his mother he is as strong as he is stubborn." She pauses. "You have been here some time then?"

"Yes. I knew Rhys. He saw me when no one else did. Because he's a medium, like Wynne, his mother. Solas was me because he's very connected to the Fade. But people don't forget me like they used to. It's good and bad. But more good."

He looked up at her, actually lifted his head enough to look out from under his hat. "In Skyhold? I came here when everyone else did. Or here, out of the Fade? I came out of the Fade... a year before the Mages rebelled? Maybe a bit more. But I didn't know I was a spirit for a long time. I thought I was a person. A mortal person."

"And what," she asks slowly, interested, "is it you consider yourself now?"

Cole says Varric claims he is human enough. Varric is amusing, yes, and appears to come with an endless supply of stories to tell, but he is not the one whose opinion she would seek here.

"I'm Cole."

That really is all the answer he'll give. It's all he has to give and it doesn't really occur to him that isn't an explanation.

"And you're Morrigan. The Witch of the Wilds."

Her chin dips, just a bit, and for a moment her lips want to twitch into a smile. "It has been some time since I anyone called me that."

In spite of herself she takes a step closer, voice low.

"Just how much do you know?"

Cole doesn't step back, just lets her encroach into his space. "Dangerous, wild, magic crackles, thrums, weak people fear, other mages, templars, mortals, fear the power, fear my control, fear that I do not fear them. Madame Vivienne doesn't like you. She doesn't like me either."

He rocks on his feet back, back and forward and stopping. "I don't know how much I know. I just know things. How much do you know?"

His words come out in a rhythm that sounds more like poetry. She believes he is only picking up on what is... most present on her, the most immediate and most prominent feelings.

That is relieving, if she is correct. She would need more evidence to say with certainty.

"I know more than some think I should and certainly less than I would like." She smiles. "Your Madame Vivienne does not care for me, no, but I suspect there are not many she does like. You are in good company."

"Relief, soft water ebbing over the soul, a sigh of breath than was held too long." He shakes his head. "Are you good company? You're not scared of me, I like that. When people find out I'm a spirit, they stop liking me and start being scared and calling me demon. I don't think I'm a demon. The Inquisitor said I'm not and if I was, I'd be stopped. I like knowing that. You can't stop her."

The last sentence is said as he looks straight at Morrigan's eyes, his own pale ones focused sharp on her.

Then he gives a small 'oof' and stumbles into her as a large, thrown stone hits him in the back.

She barely has time to be thrown off her guard before the stone strikes and he lurches forward. Her arms instinctively go out, protective, but she looks past Cole to the clusters of people beyond.

"Are you hurt?"

More than one guilty face lurks behind him, but the guiltiest seem to make up the half-circle their templar friend now stands in.

It disgusts her.

She should almost certainly know better by now, but she opens one hand, swirling cold between her fingers, and aims a warning blast of frost at the ground near their feet, intending to make them scatter.

He's more shocked right now. Being seen is still something new and he doesn't know if it hurts. It's not like claws or blades in his flesh, so he shakes his head.

"Anger, seething, hurt it, make it show itself, drive it away, demon." He pressed closer to Morrigan and tried desperately to make them forget him, eyes closed and pulling on the Fade.

He couldn't make people just forget he existed. But he was surprisingly good at still going invisible, pulling threads around him until the eyes glazed over him. If he worked at it.

The group does scatter. It's not worth a fight with Morrigan.

No doubt someone -- perhaps the Commander -- will have something to say to her later about fighting with refugees, but in the moment she aims her hands for the general area of Cole's shoulders. She certainly knows he did not leave.

"'Tis almost a shame you are not the demon they want to believe you are. If they hurt you again I will gladly correct their mistake. Is there a safe place for you within these walls?"

After a moment he comes back into view properly, pushing a hand to his nose and coming with with a single spot of blood. It happens, sometimes, when he vanishes to a lot of people at once.

"I stay above the tavern. It's quiet, but there's a hum of people. When they drink, they relax and I can help them easier."

A look of mild concern softens her eyes. The spilled blood, no matter how little, only serves to make her more angry at those she chased off. She appraises his face as well as he allows.

"I will walk there with you."

The relative safety and comfort of a spot above the tavern, especially one he is used to, seems far preferable to this.

"If you would like."

It's the effort of vanishing that often makes his nose bleed, but he holds onto her for a moment longer. Mages make him feel that bit safer, that bit more reassured.

"That would be nice. Thank you."

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