#eggywrites
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Sensory Prompt: Fingertips smudged in ink
Their lesson had been delayed, which was a rare occurrence for her punctual teacher. She had found him slumped over his desk, hand moving furiously between a sheet of parchment and his well of ink. She had noted that the books they were to cover during their lesson still remained on the shelf, suffocated by the overwhelming number of books he had tried to fit into each shelf. The movement of her skirts had alerted him of her presence, and he had dramatically waved a hand over his head without fully acknowledging her. Sebastian would have demanded that he had stood and appropriately addressed her, including her royal titles, but Zarina enjoyed the casual exchanges that had become commonplace in their relationship. Tension had built between them, as if an invisible string that connected the two grew more taunt with each passing day. She often became breathless at the thought.
The droll in time convinced her to wander around her teacher’s quarters. Solas resided in the tower situated near the front gate of the castle grounds. He showed no interested in the intricate decorations that embellished the castle, therefore most of his furniture was made of simple oak. The only ornaments he utilized was his mass collection of books. Each wall of the tower held towering bookshelves stacked with literature he had gathered from his travels. Zarina ran her fingertips across the spines of the books. Lingering on a leather bound book, she shimmied it from its confines. The book was heavy, and the writing was in a language she did not recognize. A smirk flickered across her lips; most of the pages were dog-eared and the white margins contained his neatly curated notes. She imagined that all of the texts Solas possessed were equally marked up.
Zarina waltzed around Solas’s living space several times. With each pass behind him, she noted the slope of his broad shoulders, the tension in his jaw, the way his pen flicked across the page furiously. She paused behind him, maneuvering herself so that she might be able to see what he was enthralled with. Zarina noted the breaks in his work, how each paragraph consisted only of four or five lines. He had marked through some words, and even whole paragraphs. A poem?
Solas abruptly stopped writing and quickly turned on her, eyes narrowed accusingly.
“Might I get some space, please?” He hissed at her. Zarina’s lips turned down as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Is that how you are to address your future queen, Solas?”
His face softened and he chuckled softly, a sound that caressed the inside of Zarina’s ribs. Solas turned back towards his work, dragging his hands across his face. Zarina moved to his side as she tried to read over what he had been working on, but she found herself distracted by their proximity and the heat that radiated from him.
“I’ve been working on this for months, but I can’t get the wording right.” His hand moved down the paper once more, crossing out words or whole lines as he went. Zarina noted that his shoulders tensed under his loose-fitting tunic. She moved her hand to rest on his shoulder and she felt him freeze under her touch. Zarina suppressed a smirk as her heart beat against her insides. She found pleasure in throwing off her often-composed teacher.
“What is so important about this document, anyway?” A quick read over the words painted pictures of spring-time, warm nights, and fields of green in her mind. She felt a sense of yearning settle in the deepest part of her heart, something that tugged at a distant memory that she could only recover in single frames.
“It’s for…it’s something that is important for me to finish.” Solas muttered, before gazing up at the princess. Zarina often felt the heat from his gaze brush against of sense of longing within her, but black smears adorned Solas’s face and she erupted in a fit of laughter. Her professor, who was always reserved and stoic had been seemingly brought to his knees by a poem. Solas looked at her curiously as she clutched her stomach, a soft smile began to stretch across his face. Tears welled up in Zarina’s eyes as she passed a handkerchief to her tutor.
“Your ink is all over your face, my dear professor.” Solas accepted her offering, scoffing at the commotion she was causing. He watched as she regained her composure, something soft wavered in his eyes as he took her in, and Zarina could feel the warmth return to her freckled cheeks as she looked away, nervously tugging at her corset. Solas stood to make his way to wash basin, his light-colored eyes permanently fixed on her. As he passed by, his hand reached out to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye, his fingers brushing gently across her face. They exchanged a moment, a shared breath, before he moved away.
“You are unique and splendid, princess.” He said quietly, so only the two of them and the books could hear.
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Satin in Candlelight
The cadence of the music still buzzed in his ear, rested at the base of his brain, his senses numbed from exhaustion and the last glass of wine that he drank from eagerly. He had had too much to drink, and he silently cursed himself for it as he guided himself up to the room that had been assigned to him at the Winter Palace. The light emitting from the sconces dissolved into orbs of light around him, taunting him as he fumbled his way up the stairs. He knew this night was going to end poorly when the Inquisitor had arrived to the ball adorned in a satin dress the color of blooming spring blossoms. The cowl of the dress was draped in such a way that it revealed the slope of her neck, the subtle arch of her collarbones. Never mind that the dress was cut so that it clung to the fullness of her hips and slope of her backside in such a way that it nearly caused him to draw blood from biting his bottom lip.
In that moment he had decided that wine was the only cure. The only thing to keep his body busy so that his eyes wouldn’t stray to how her hips swayed to the music, how the crowd seemed to devour her and how bachelor’s eagerly grabbed for her hand, looking to pull her close. He couldn’t help but smirk when she declined their offers. After the events that had unfolded, she needed this moment to lose herself in the music, to forget that blood had coated her hands just hours prior. She had wrapped herself up in the music in such a way that he had felt as if he were intruding, as if he had walked by her living quarters and caught her dancing about her room without any knowledge of the outside world. It had been months since she had emitted pure freedom, since her face had been lit up in such a joyous manner. It was as if innocence had reclaimed her, as if the music had washed away the events that had occurred over the last few months.
He drank deeply at the thought of it. Hoping that her joyous face would be etched into his mind forever.
Now, he damns that drink as he hauls himself up to the landing where the crew was quartered. His hands grip the railing as he tries to regain his sense of balance. The air around him shifts, and he feels something trailing across his lower back. The smell of lavender consumes him as he turns quickly, too quickly, almost losing his balance. She stands before him (although he swears she must be floating, damn she looks so heavenly) hands folded elegantly behind her, and her face flushed pink, bringing color to her ethereal skin.
“In-inquisitor.” He stumbles over his words as she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. She angles her chin, taking him in, and waves of insecurity begin to beat against him. They had shared kisses in the fade, passing glances, a brushing of fingertips, but he had tried to avoid this. He wasn’t sure how he could manage direct interactions, and now that alcohol numbed his senses he wasn’t confident in his ability to keep up the wall that he had built between the two of them.
“Solas.” Mischief glinted in her eyes. The light from the wall illuminated her satin dress, and she shimmered in such a way that he swore he should drop to a knee and bestow offerings at her feet. “You should have joined me on the dance floor.” A smirk pressed at the corner of her mouth.
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself. Besides, I’m not that great of a dancer.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, which had grown uncomfortably warm.
She chuckled, a light sound that offset the gaudy music that still echoed from downstairs. “I highly doubt that. Next time, perhaps?” She chewed at her bottom lip as her eyes scraped against him. The movement caused him to ache in unexplainable ways, and he felt his knees wobble beneath him. She turned to continue down the hallway, but his hand shot out and caught the curve of her arm, a movement that shocked both of them. Her pale eyes surveyed his grip, then lifted to meet his gaze. Her lips parted, and he moved quickly to press his lips against the curve of hers.
His body shattered into two. One part clawed at his sense of reasoning, demanding that he pull away and march himself to his room, demanded that he never speak of this again. He knew that half of him would be the better of the two to listen to. Instead, he gave himself fully to the latter. The part that shattered against the movements of her lips, the part of him that he had never surrendered to before. His hands were in her hair, a thumb stroked her chin as their lips moved together, as she broke him apart with each sigh she breathed.
Her tongue moved against his lips, then danced across his tongue, and a growl escaped him as he pressed her against the wall. His lips descended her neck, paused over her collarbones which he traced with his tongue, until his lips were between her breasts. He pressed his lips against the piece of bone that caged her heart, and he could swear that he felt it flutter against its boney confines with each pass of his lips. Her head rested against the wall as her fingers passed over his ears, tracing where they sloped, memorizing the pointed tips. His hands slid down the slick fabric of her dress, roamed over the slope of her thighs, the fullness of her ass. He sucked in sharply as he cupped it, she arched against him in response.
“Solas.” She whispered his name in a way that described everything she wanted from him. His teeth scraped against her neck as he ascended back to her lips. He planted one final kiss against the fullness of her mouth, trying to savor her taste, the scent of lavender, before that other half overcame him, and forced him to pull away. His body begged him to stay, and he released a chuckle as he noticed that a considerable length had grown in his pants, and he shyly adjusted himself.
She tilted her head, taking in the sight of his length, noting how the warmth of his body wasn’t pressed against hers anymore, her mouth curved in response. He cupped his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look at him, hoping that the apology he held in his eyes didn’t get muddled with the lust that still raged within.
“Goodnight, Inquisitor.” He whispered breathlessly.
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Nights always seemed to be the worst.
The midnight sky caved under the weight of reality, of the thoughts that refused to gnash their teeth when the golden orb ruled the sky. No, her thoughts flourished during these lonely hours, plucked from the depths of her consciousness by the sickly ruler that levitated against the inky black nothingness.
She buckled against the fear of failure. Phantom flames licked at her neck, burned her fingertips, whispering to her the names of those lost at Haven. The ghosts of the innocents marched through her dreams, burned and boney fingertips pointing at her, accusing her for cowering, for not acting sooner. Their tears became hers, and her tears became ashes on her cheeks and her cries settled heavy in her lungs like the soot that decorated the virgin snow after the attack.
The cries of those lost where stifled by a larger figure, the harbinger of this chaos. Or perhaps, he was simply a pawn, like the rest of them had been. Just cogs in the wheel. She would mistake the chirping of the birds at dawn as the cries of the demon he commanded. She swore that her bones still rattled from the power that he carried, for her body never fully recovered from expelling such power from the universe. Loneliness and hunger ravaged against the darkest parts of her, traits that reminded her of the monster of a once-man, and she often wondered who had been the evil one all along.
The memory that the night loved to twist from her memories was that of him. Of the shadow that stalked her dreams. Of the dagger like teeth crowned by eyes the color of an eternal flame.
A wolf. A man. A god.
Whatever he had become she had loved him regardless. Her fingertips still tilted across satin sheets in the middle of the night to find that his side had grown eternally cold. Still, she swore to scavenge for pieces of him, anything that could she could offer Fate or the Gods to bring him back. She would offer her flesh if she had to, the pieces that still burned from his touch, where he had stained with his lips.
Yes, these are the thoughts that the creatures of the night preyed on, roasted on spickets over burning orbs of eternal light. How they feasted on her fears, salivated over her obsessive thoughts until it gathered across her brow, settled against her lower back until she was thrust from slumber once again.
Ash in her mouth, eyes blind from burning tears, fingertips fumbling for him.
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Promise
Well hot damn, its been a nug-licking minute since I’ve posted anything besides memes and rants. So I finished Horizon: Zero Dawn about a week ago and I’m still mourning the fact that I completed it, so of course I had to push my sadness onto Solavellan. Also, the fate of Tumblr seems to be precarious so I needed to do something to get my mind off of that. I’m sorry in advance.
She laid under the giant oak that had been rooted eternally in the courtyard of Skyhold, the one that he had nurtured since it was a sapling, feeble and meek. Its branches now cradled a sky that had begun to fold itself into faded colors of pink and orange, a sharp contrast to the rubble and smoke that surrounded him and the defiant tree. All his doing, although he could not bring himself to accept that truth. Not yet, anyway. There was a truth far graver that he had yet to swallow.
He knew her time had begun to swing precariously at the end of a rope, he felt the twinge of surety that is death beat against his insides, softly like the flutter of a moth. He had tried to save her, although the distance between them had grown substantially. He was naive, idiotic, in thinking that removing the anchor from her would save her from the poison that had already embedded itself in her veins. When he visited her dreams and found them erratic and fevered, dripping with hazes of green and black, he knew his actions had not been enough. He tried to mend the chaos that brewed in her while she slept, but the strength of his powers wavered from the distance. He needed to be closer, he needed to find her.
But damn his pride, his sense of duty. On one particular night he found that the poison had begun to wane, not completely, but enough for him to be convinced that she still had time and that his mission was still justified. He pressed on with his journey. Although the world around him uttered goodbyes laced in ash, he held onto the ignorant promise that his journey had a well-intentioned end. Despite these self-reassurances, he could not deny the flicker that gnawed at his insides. He remembered the sharp stab that altered him and he sent his subconscious out across the land, feeling for the fading warmth that was her, but he found nothing. Only a cold emptiness. The universe had caved around her being, leaving nothing in remembrance. The universe was cruel in that way. Perhaps he shared that trait with the endless being.
Now she laid eternally, six feet under a crude etching of her name in the base of the tree. Although they had existed worlds apart for many years, she had never felt so far away. He should have listened, should have turned back, accepted her help. Perhaps he could have saved her then. His throat swelled at the thought, eyes burning from the grief, he reached a hand out to the oak to balance himself. Was he so naive to wish for the same fate? Banish himself into the other realm so that he could do what he should have done before. Run his hands through the length of her hair, take in the scent of lavender that danced across the nape of her neck. Utter pleas of forgiveness and promises of love between her lips. No, he knew that the world was cruel enough to not allot room for forgiveness.
He was unsure of his purpose now. All he knew was that it was unfair that she remained in a courtyard, alone in a world that she no longer recognized. His hands cast themselves around the courtyard, magic surged around him as wards erupted to protect her final resting place from the rest of the world. Trees and flowerbeds reverted themselves to their original form, cracked benches and fallen stone shuddered as they repaired themselves. This is what she deserved, to be buried in a world she remembered, not one that she tried to prevent. A twitch of his fingers caused the earth above her to adorn itself in flowers of white. A sharp tug released the necklace that hung from his neck, and he tucked it carefully among the flowers.
Nothing he could do would bring her back, nothing could revive her laughs that tickled at the inside of his heart. He couldn’t protect her in her past life, but he vowed to protect her in this one. A hand passed over the ward, allowing him passage out of the sanctuary. He faltered, heavy eyes fell back to her resting place, heart raising to his throat, making it difficult to speak.
“Ma vhenan. You deserved better, a thousand apologies will never suffice. I promise I will keep you safe here. My heart will always find its way back to you.”
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14 smut! For Aijah!!
The first of my birthday prompts! I wrote this with a modern take, and I hope you enjoy it! Man bun Solas…. hrngggh.
Thank you so much for sending in a prompt!
“Can I at least take my shoes off before you pounce on me?”
The tires of his car spedacross the pavement, one hand gripped the steering wheel while the fingers ofthe other tapped along to the song that was blaring through the speakers. Themusic poured out of his rolled down windows, mingling with the summer air thattore at his hair that was tied up in a messy bun. He tucked a stray brown lockback into the band that held the mass together as he maneuvered around a carthat he had deemed was driving too slow. The bridge of his sunglasses slippedforward to the tip of his nose, piercing eyes flew to the rear view mirror thatreflected the expression of the disgruntled driver. His phone that he hadtossed in his passenger seat began to buzz wildly, a calloused hand reached forthe device, then pulled up the message that he had just received.
Where are you? Shit, he was late. His foot fell heavily on thegas pedal.
He pulled his car to the side door of the neighborhooddiner, the outside was covered in black and white tile which made the redfluorescent signs seem more aggressive. A long legged girl had plopped herselfon the curb outside of a door that read “Employees Only”, her black apron satnext to her worn sneakers. Pale eyes acknowledged him, hair had escaped itsbraided prison, falling around the soft curves of her face. She rose, her slowgait announced that her shift had been long and her feet were angry with her. Thedoor slammed, and she fell into his passenger seat. Her makeup had begun tobleed across her dewy face, but she looked more radiant than she ever had.
“I’m sorry I was late,I got you this.” He revealed an iced coffee and shook the contents, temptingher with the noise of rattling ice, a goofy smile spread across his face. Shesmiled softly, thanked him quietly, and began to sip at the drink.
The pair sped off in his car, back to the apartment thatthey shared. They paid were new to town, both about to attend university in thefall semester, and at this point they were just trying to make it through thedry spell that had become the summer. He had landed a job as a gardener, andshe was a waitress at the popular local café. Money was tight, and would be forawhile, but they knew that it would be worth it in the end. The wind furtherdisrupted the braid that she had constructed, and she tore out the band to letthe length float around her in the wind. Her favorite song began to ringthrough the speakers, and her once soft voice bloomed into a soulful cadence asshe sang along. My god, she was everything he needed and more. Sheabsentmindedly pushed the windblown hair out of her face, felt the weight ofhis gaze, and turned to catch his eyes upon her. Her cheeks flushed with colorand she turned back towards the window, releasing a laugh that sounded likespring.
Their apartment was crowded with his parents overstuffedfurniture, they made up some of the last memories he had of them, and some dayshe swore that their bodies were still curled up on the loveseat. The windowsill was occupied with a sleeping tabby, who refused to acknowledge them whenthe closing of the door announced their presence. She dashed her bag next tothe door, a groan escaped her as she rubbed her lower back. Sunlight streamedthrough the open blinds, dust illuminated by the sun danced through the air indizzying patterns. He collapsed on the bed that was stuffed in the corner, hishand ripped the band from his hair and his deep brown tresses fell around hisshoulders. She had made her way in the kitchen, picking through the remains oflast nights’ dinner that was stored in the fridge, her frame was illuminated bythe harsh white light that the appliance emitted. He propped himself up on anelbow and watched her move through their apartment, she placed the remainder ofher coffee in their fridge, ran her fingertips over the fur of the sleepy catwho meowed contently. She finally made her way to the bed, sat back facing him,and began to work at the buttons of her work shirt.
He moved to close the space between them, encapsulatingher thighs with his own, pressing her back against his chest as he pushed herfingers out of the way to take on their task. His lips found the delicate curveof her neck where it met her shoulder, and a sigh escaped her lips before shepulled herself away. She looked back at him, and he could catch the retreat ofa smirk across her scrunched face.
“Can I at least take myshoes off before you pounce on me?” She scoffed at him. He shook his head ather, a mischievous look flickered in his eyes. He moved from behind her, andplaced himself on his knees at her feet. His fingers began working at the lacesof her sneakers, and once he removed both shoe and sock he moved to the otherfoot. Once both shoes were thrown to their place by the door, his fingers beganto work at the muscles of her feet, coaxing out the tension with well-placedmovements. Her feet flexed when his touch tickled her, and she let out agiggle, falling back onto the mess of comforters that crowded the bed.
“I love you”. Hemurmured, his kneading hands now moving up to her calves. He shifted his weightforward so that he could see her now, how her hair had fallen in a mess aroundher, face now soft from the touch of his hands. Her hands held tightly to theblanket under her, as if she were afraid of floating away. His lips were nowwhere his hands once were, and he began kissing up the seam of her pantsalthough his lips begged for her skin.
“I love you, too.” She breathed.
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Last one I swear. / “You’re the perfect height for me to rest my chin on your head.”
When I started writing I focused mostly on prose and poems before moving towards my current writing style. I wanted to revisit that with this prompt, and I hope you enjoy! Also, bless you for giving me so many amazing prompts to work with!
*eeee I’m finally caught up on prompts!*
She radiated before him.
Like the sun, but brighter.
Her hair had captured the color of the risingsun,
Knowing that only one perfect thing couldexist in this world,
and that perfect thing was
Her.
He had memorized her.
Memorized how the curve of her lips
Preluded a sly remark, one that dripped with
Childlike deviance.
Gods, how he wanted to kiss each remark out ofher,
Gods, how he wanted to rest his chin upon herhead.
She would fit
Perfectly.
She was the only god in his world,
From the people she came,
And for the people she served.
He wished to worship her,
With words, with touch, with kisses
Pressed against her under the blushing moon
Until she would release her blessings on him.
Everything in that moment would be perfect,
Because of her.
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“Let’s share my coat, since you’re so cold.” for Aijah
Thank you so much for the prompt, I really enjoyed working on this!
The whole of Skyhold shivered as the first snow of the season blanketed the grounds, tucking the castle in for a long winter. Flakes clung to the withered trees and bushes, dressing them for the new frigid season. Children made erratic tracks through the snow, eyes wide with awe and cheeks red from the bite of the wind. Snowballs whirred through the air as children and adults circled the grounds, searching for their next target, their laughter hanging off of their frozen breaths. Winter ushered in a time of wonder, a time to reexamine the course of one’s life in an attempt to be better prepared for when the earth would wake from its frozen slumber.
This feeling of anticipation settled strangely in Aijah’s stomach as she watched Skyhold’s inhabitants frolic in the snow. She felt as if she were dangling over the edge of a great unknown, and no matter how hard she tried to remain above the pit, she knew she would be dragged into the abyss eventually. The chaos that had swept up the elf and her friends seemed to have been overcome by the colder weather, for Corypheus’ forces hadn’t been seen for weeks. Her companions had made it a point to celebrate almost every night next to a warm fire with drinks that burned Aijah’s throat, and as much as she wanted to wholeheartedly celebrate, she couldn’t shake the fear of the danger that lurked on the other side of the castle gates. A deep sigh escaped chapped lips, her breath clung desperately to the chilled air. Long fingers reached to calm the tension that built between her eyebrows, a small prayer begging for relief failed to escape her lips.
“Inquisitor.” His voice melted the air around her, reminding her of the security that Spring always seemed to promise. A sharp turn of her chin revealed the warmth of the man that presented himself to her. The thick muted furs of his coat seemed to swallow him, and he had replaced his foot bindings with sleek leather boots that had yet to succumb to wear. His jaw was still profound, despite being overwhelmed with the furs, and his eyes searched her furrowed brow. She wanted to close the space between them, to run a finger along the length of his jaw, trail her touch with kisses. She wanted to feel him burn beneath her, to eradicate the winter that had crystalized within her.
“Solas. Ma Vhenan.” A twitch of his lips alerted Aijah to the fact that he had caught how her words had breathlessly escaped her. A solemn offering of an outstretched hand signaled for Aijah’s, yet her pale eyes searched his.
“Join me for a walk around the grounds?” A moment passed between them, frozen, before Aijah accepted his offering. Despite his lack of gloves, Solas’ hands felt surprisingly warm in her grasp, her fingers buzzed from the sensation. How could she invite his touch to sacred parts of her body so that they may experience the same feeling? The warmth spread to her face in an effort to scold her for the thought, yet she received it with a concealed smirk.
The grounds hung delicately around them, icicles hung from trees like gaudy jewelry and the snow bowed softly under their feet. A comfortable silence had settled between the two elves as their footprints mimicked the others, side by side, step after step.
Forever? The wish clung desperately to Aijah’s heart. As of this moment, the two mimicked the footprints they were leaving. While both remained at each other’s side, yet Solas always seemed to take the lead, and Aijah always seemed to have trouble keeping up with him. Perhaps, when the war ends, he will slow his stride enough for her to catch him. Engulfed in her thoughts, her hand clutched his absentmindedly, causing Solas to falter in his gait. Broad shoulders turned to take in the Inquisitor, a quizzical line had formed between his eyebrows as he searched the pale form of Aijah.
“Is everything alright?” The warmth in his voice had returned, but the weight of his strong eyes sent a shiver down Aijah’s spine.
“Of course, just a chill.” The she-elf fumbled over her explanation, she refused to break his gaze even though it swallowed her. A chuckle escaped from Solas, soft like the snow yet warm like the sun. What Aijah would give to wrap her up in the feeling for eternity, to let his laugh reverberate off her rib cage and beckon for her heart to continue its methodological pace.
“Let’s share my coat, since you’re so cold.” Solas broke the grasp between them and shrugged off the furs, revealing velvet clad shoulders and a trim waist beneath the weight of the coat. He carefully placed the coat over Aijah’s small frame, her knees buckled under the weight but her hands moved to wrap the coat tightly around her. An aroma of pine needles and medicinal herbs engulfed Aijah in their scent, and she began to breathe deeply with contentment. A warm hand cupped her face, and Solas tilted her chin so he could take her in. Her white fringe had fallen into her pale eyes, but she dared not move under his touch. His thumb swept across her face and moved to part her lips, and she eagerly kissed the smooth pad without shying from his gaze.
Forever. She begged the gods.
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The Grace of Morning
This is an early birthday present drabble for @ironbullsmissingeye of her Shok and Iron Bull! I hope you have a wonderful birthday, you deserve it!!
Winter had exhausted its stay in Skyhold, and began to fracture under the warm winds that spring had begun to conjure. The ushering in of a new season began to brew anticipation in the bellies of those who resided within the walls. The sun clung to the horizon for longer, allowing the blushing sky to paint itself with vivid colors of purple and blue, before ultimately giving in to its celestial lover. Warm evenings tempted those who resided indoors to shrug off the comfort of their quarters and join the other cheerful faces around a growing fire that began to lick eagerly at the dimming sky. Ale sloshed from cast iron mugs as they were passed around the fire, burning the throats of those who dared to drink the amber liquor.
Nights warmed by fire and ale broke into breathless mornings that whispered of a chilled wind that was able to snake its way through the stone of the castle. The golden rays of the peaking sun guided the wind through the open windows of Shokrakar’s room, twirling around the woven blanket that encompassed him. Shokrakar blessed the blossoming of the new season, the bitter bite of winter often left his joints sore, causing his movements to be stiff and calculated. The warmth soothed his aches and ushered in fluttery feelings that settled in the depths of his stomach. Curses muttered under his breath danced on the wind as he shuffled the blanket over his feet, tightening the wool around his ears. The Qunari shivered against another gust of wind, noted the lack of heat from the side of the bed his lover slept on, then stiffly maneuvered his body to allow him to sit on the side of the bed. A numb ache slithered through his leg, a soft grunt escaped his lips as he gingerly rubbed at his joints, swear words dripping from his lips.
Shokrakar’s room expanded before him, constructed for simple needs of simple means. The dark oaken floors creaked under his feet, and the bare stone walls did little to keep the warmth in. A soft smile eased across his lips as he remembered the moments he had shared with his lover, how their laughs reverberated off the walls, filling the room with warmth despite the chill of the stone. The Qunari shouldered the woolen blanket over his broad shoulders, then mindfully eased his way towards the open window. The scent of Spring rode through the simply framed window on the back of a crisp wind, the perfumed air pirouetted around his horns before nestling itself in the flutters of his heart. The grounds of Skyhold leisurely folded itself out below Shokrakar’s window, small sprigs of new beginnings pushed their way through of past promises, some balanced brightly colored petal crowns on their frail stocks. The sun had only just begun to rub the blush colored sleep from its eyes, yet children were already making erratic tracks through the dewy grass, freckled cheeks flushed from the game they were playing. The Inquisition was quick to shuffle in families and children from the wrath that threatened them outside Skyhold’s walls. While some doubted the aged Qunari’s ability to lead, the children were quick to make friends with Shokrakar. Looks of awe spread across plump cheeks at the sheer size of the Inquisitor, and tiny bodies fought over who would swing from Shokrakar’s horns or ride on his shoulders. A proud smile flooded Shokrakar’s face, suffering often knocked at the gates of Skyhold, yet the children remained unafraid and faced each bleary morning with bright eyes. The Qunari latched the window shut, passing one more protective glance over the red-faced children below.
A different smell began to dance around Shokrakar, overcoming his senses with an aroma of sweetness. Turning on one foot to once again face his room, the Quanari noticed a crude silver plate had replaced the leather bound books that usually took residence on his bed side table. The floorboards creaked beneath him as he shuffled closer to examine the contents upon the plate. Small rolls presented themselves on the platter, tucked neatly into the folds of cloth scraps in an attempt to keep them warm. The aroma of fresh baked bread circled around him once more, then nestled its way into his grumbling stomach. Next to the plate lay a bouquet of rare Crystal Grace, dew still hovered on the blue petals. A small smile pressed at the corner of Shokrakar’s lips as he gently rubbed a satin petal between two fingers.
The huge door to his room opened with a sigh as the mass of his lover pushed his way through the opening. Iron Bull shrugged off the furs that shielded him from the cold, revealing the broad scarred shoulders that were hidden beneath. Rough hands discarded the pelts on the foot of the bed, and it was only then that he met Shokrakar’s gaze. Bull’s dark eyes flicked from his lovers to the plate of rolls, to the flowers that Shokrakar held delicately in his fist, a flush of color rushed over his cheeks and he shyly rubbed the back of his neck.
“Ah, Kadan, I’m glad you’re awake. I saw those on my hunt this morning, and when I came back the kitchen had fresh rolls and I uh-.”
The discomfort in Shokrakar’s joints melted away as he rushed towards the bashful Qunari, arms wrapped themselves around the thickness of his lover’s neck. Iron Bull paused, then gathered Shokrakar into a tight embrace, lips pressed naturally to his neck. Shokrakar moved slightly to meet Bull’s lips with his own, and a familiar warmth enveloped him.
“I love them.” Shokrakar whispered in Bull’s ear.
“I love you, Kadan.”
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So I had an idea...
On July 19th, I will be turning {22}, and I was trying to think of a way to celebrate...
So I thought the best birthday present ever would be filling 22 prompts by the time I turn 22! So I wanted to make a (very) early post regarding this idea and ask all of you to send me prompts to fill!
I will be reblogging some lists that I’ve saved, and I’ll probably pick a couple myself, but it would mean THE WORLD to me if you all would send me suggestions! Even if you think of a prompt that isn’t on a list, send it my way!
Thank you all in advance, I truly appreciate each and every one of you! Starting today, any prompt I receive will be saved for my 22 Days of Prompts. I am aiming to begin posting them on June 28th!
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“How do you always manage to look so captivating?” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bless you for this prompt! The others will be coming soon!
He remembered the first time he laid eyes on her, a fawn tremblingbefore the drooling wolves of court. Shaking fingers tugged at the end of hermud stained sleeves, perhaps grasping for some sense of understanding to whatwas happening to her. The castle swallowed her, and Solas feared that itsinhabitants would make quick work picking through the bones of the new elvenprincess. Would they circle her like vultures, bide their time until shefinally collapsed from the weight of her duty? Would they then pick her bonesclean, form a puppet from her skeleton, use it to do their bidding? AlthoughSolas had only been at court for a few years before her arrival, he had seenwhat the masterminds were capable of. They mimicked the gods with the powerthey wielded, and they demanded to be feared as such.
Her appearance haddrawn weary gazes from those who resided at court, and not simply because ofthe point of her ears. Her brow was smooth, lacking the hairs that shapedthemselves into eye brows. Under this blank slate rested deep set eyes thecolor of the sun. When he first caught her gaze, he noticed how they burnedthrough him with the intensity of roaring fire. He recognized the willfulnessthat hid beneath her unwavering orbs, and in that moment he knew that she wouldsurvive the trials that court life promised.
Five years had passedsince their gazes first found each other. In that time, Solas found himselfteaching the princess famous literature and important history of the land thatshe were to soon rule. She was intelligent, quick to catch onto concepts, andeager to learn more. It was then that Solas began teaching her of her homeland,and how her heritage had influenced her childhood. He remembered how her eyesgrew with wonder when he narrated the original story of her gods, and how herancestors came to reside in the forests that her family still walked. He foundhimself stumbling over his words as he hurried to share new ideas with her. Healways became flustered when her golden orbs followed the movement of his lips,when her body weight shifted so she that balanced on her elbows in an effort tocling on to every fact he uttered. It was when her hand hovered over his for amoment longer than necessary that he wished to share a different kind of factwith her. But how could he tell her how he had grown to care for her? That thethought of her consumed his every waking hour. How could he tell her this ingood conscious knowing that she were to soon be wed? A brush of his fingertipson the inside of her arm was his only way of conveying these feelings, and asmile pressed to the corner of her lips told him that she caught his message.
Summer had stifled thelife of those who resided within the castle, and most had retreated to thecomfort of the inside where they cooled themselves with paper fans and chilledwine. Zarina had begged Solas to move their lesson in to the garden, and hefinally obliged after she successfully bribed him fresh fruits. They loungedunder one of the grand oaks, backs resting comfortably against the bark of thetrunk. Embroidered slippers tossed to the side, Zarina had tucked her feetunder the hem of her gown and she chewed thoughtfully on a pear while sheskimmed the book Solas had assigned her. Solas scribbled aimlessly in hisnotebook, piecing lines of potential poems together before furiously scribblingthem out. How could condense a feeling that consumed him like fire into lineson a mundane paper? The words of this world would never suffice. A sigh escapedhis lips and he turned to see how much progress Zarina had made with her work.
The sun filteredthrough the leaves of the oak and illuminated the color of her hair, mimickingthe look of melted copper. Under the soft color of her eye lashes, golden eyesscanned the pages of the book in her hands, completely unaware of his lingeringgaze. The freckles across her face were more prominent, and she would discoverthat two more would be added to her collection after this afternoon in the sun.He couldn’t recall how many times he had counted, recounted, fawned over themarks. He began to realize that he was in the presence of a goddess, one thatnever asked for tributes of gold and jewels but only wished for knowledge andbeautiful words. Her aura was enough to eclipse the sun, and he wished that hewould be able to watch her ascend across the sky.
Another bite into the pear and Solas realized that her eyes were uponhim, a childlike smirk painted across her face. “Is something wrong?” Shechided him.
He exhaled as her eyes shot through him like an arrow. His eyes scannedthe grounds of the blooming garden that shielded them from prying eyes. When hehad convinced himself that no being would repeat his words, he let his heart spillfrom his tongue.
“You look so captivating.”
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Colors of His World
So I discovered this absolutely beautiful song earlier this week and have not been able to stop listening. Thus, it inspired this short piece below. I wanted to experiment a bit, so this isn’t my normal writing style, and I’m unsure if this is going to make it to my AO3. Regardless, I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you all enjoy it as well :)
He awoke. Stumbling, sputtering, sobbing, into this world. He trudged through the strange expanse of the foreign land, eyelids hanging heavy with the sorrows of a time long forgotten. Shadows of a once great people ushered past him, lips stiffly formed the words of a broken language and sang praises to deaf gods. The world swallowed him, folded him up in the strangeness of itself. He moved, hands perched cautiously before him, fumbling blindly through a world void of color. Stiff legs carried him through the sludge of existence, carried him ever forward to a future that had turned a blind eye to the past. He sought to return color to a world which he had ignorantly painted grey. His people were once vibrant, existing between the shades of the earth and the shades of the sky, uttering precious words that painted the world around them in an array of colors as unique as the people. What he would give to witness the beauty once more, to not stumble through a world that warped colorlessly around him.
She awoke. Curiously, confused, caged in a body that no longer belonged to her. Accusations and duties shackled themselves to her ankles, anchoring her to the grey of the stone floor when she wished to frolic in the green of the forest. A world that once exploded with the vibrancy of love and culture bled out, leaving nothing behind but a colorless vein. In its place, grey shadows cast upon grey walls escorted her through a grey existence. She tried to reach out, to defiantly pull the color back into her world, but was swiftly dragged back into the pit of perfectly calculated movements. She held no authority over her tongue, held no power over her actions, she was a puppet jerking violently on strings before a crowd of unamused beings. How she wished to paint her world with the colors of her childhood, how everything existed in vibrant shades that were impossible to mimic. How she wished to banish the grey.
They met. Hurriedly, happily, hazy forms in a void that sought to swallow them whole. She existed before him in a manner that he had yet to encounter, as if she were a defiant flower that refused to bow to the bite of winter. Shades of yellow erupted from her, a brightly colored light that she was unable to see for herself. They reached for each other, curious fingertips reached for shaking hands, softly at first. A world that had barely existed began to flare with the vivid color of molten gold. The warmth of the color enveloped them, then the warmth of each other’s arms, then the warmth of lips upon lips. Their lives swelled with the newness of love, with the remembrance of a life that was once lost, and the world around them sighed contentedly.
He left. Brazenly, broken, bound back out into a world that carelessly engulfed him. Nightmares of the past gnawed at his consciousness while he wrestled with sleepless nights. He found himself looking down at the source of color in his life while she peaceful slept in the familiarity of his arms. It was then that he decided to leave the vivid world she had painted for him, to brave the wild expanse of grey that existed outside of their walls. He sought to restore the world to its original color, he longed to see her eyes grow in wonder at the beauty that had existed before. The breeze carried him from her arms, and she floated in a fickle world once more. She refused to let the world see her break, she turned a sure face to the sun and carried on. While the colors of her world bled in his absence, they never shifted to the void that once was. She now existed in a world of blue, a world that was once touched, and forever changed, by him.
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Hhhmaigawd this thing has been sitting on my To Do list for much longer than I was anticipating. I’m not 100% happy with it, but it was one of those things that I needed to stop doting over so I could move on with the story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it, and as always feel free to comment, like, or share!
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Courted - Chapter 7
How shall I call you,
My lover, my forever
What name shall I utter
For the rest of eternity?
The gaudy walls of the castle blurred by Zarina as she stalked through the hallways, Elgar’s claws clicked alongside her against the marble as he matched his owners quickened pace. Confused murmurs of ‘Princess’ from castle staff and visiting dignitaries soared past her, but they were unable to land within Zarina’s ears. She must have been a sight, donned only in a thin white satin slip that tangled up around her bare ankles, hair half done from the night before. The people and greetings passed by her in shades of grey, all she could focus on was the aging expanse of the castle garden, but she wasn’t sure if her feet would stop at the garden’s edge.
The russet brick of the courtyard expanded before her, she took a solemn step from the smooth marble floor to the unfinished edges of red brick. Her toes curled, greeting the new surface, thanking it for being imperfect. Stained leaves pirouetted over her feet in dizzying circles, inviting her to dance with them. Zarina hurried across the red expanse of brick, her heels dragged awkwardly over the masonry, leaving the skin on the bottom of her feet raw.
Shems hate rough feet. A mischievous grin trickled over her freckled face, and she continued in this manner, relishing in the blasphemy. The garden was a place of worship for Zarina, and she was their goddess. The flowers offered their plum-colored petals, the trees relinquished the last of their leaves, and the earth promised its warmth. This green expanse is the kingdom Zarina wished for, not the walls of the castle that blubbered heavily with jewels and gossip. Her feet carried her past the flowers that Sebastian planted to remind her of her homeland, past the trees that would have hung shamefully under the grand oaks of forest her clan inhabited. A chilled wind bit at the exposed skin and tore relentlessly at the silken garment that clung to her curves, but Zarina failed to take notice. The land past the castle grounds consumed her mind, the painted meadows began relinquishing the lush of their greens to the melancholy colors of death. A lake was nestled between the grove of oaks and a far off stable, accompanied by a leaning cabin. The sweet smells of seasons past tugged playfully at Zarina.
The outskirts of the castle grounds had served as Zarina’s refuge when she first arrived many years ago. For months, the small elf could be found curled stealthily among the tree branches. Tracks in the underbrush would signal what she wanted, and the release of an arrow from her taunt bow would bring her some sense of comfort. She needed that release, the ability to take care of herself once more, to provide for her and Elgar like she had in another life. A week had passed before the palace guards, led by a concerned Sebastian, finally caught her in the woods. A fresh kill was slung over her shoulder, a mixture of blood and dirt stained her wrinkled tunic, much to the shock of the hunting party. Sebastian guided her back to the castle under the cover of night in an effort to not draw attention to the wild elven princess, and she was hastily cleaned and her bow was relinquished from her. Sometimes she could still feel the firm vibration of a strung bow on her fingertips, and a soft hum of a singing arrow filled her ears.
Zarina’s feet halted her escape, then turned to face the tower her tutor resided in as if she were a compass that had finally found true north. The tower loomed mysteriously in the sky, the red brick only gave way to a weathered oaken door and two small windows. Zarina had never witnessed the tower from the inside, Sebastian made sure that her and Solas interacted in public places with prying eyes on them at all times. She would catch herself in her thoughts, which concocted tales about the contents of the tower. Bookshelves of aged oak would line the curves of the tower, sunken over the weight of dusty tomes. A small desk tucked under the staircase that was always lit with a half burned candle. The dust from the shelves would float up with the smoke from the candle, carrying its distinct scent to the loft were a sleeping Solas lay, eyelashes softly fluttering at the arrival of dawn.
A cold nose pressed to Zarina’s calf alerted her that she had begun to dote too long on the memory. Elgar nudged her again with a large black snout, signaling her to continue with the soft wag of his tail. Zarina’s hand found its way behind the wolf’s perked ears, a scratch brought about an excited wiggle that overcame the animal.
“Ghilana, Elgar.” She clucked to the wolf, who answered with an excited yip. Elgar continued down the path that led to the lake, large paws padded quickly against the brick. His gait carried him along the path in an “S” formation, allowing him to simultaneously check both sides of the road while keeping a protective gaze over Zarina. As the princess fell in line behind the wolf, she wondered how long it would take for Josephine to send Alistair after her. Hours? Days?
I am too valuable for them to stall that long. A bitter tone overcame her. The wedding loomed ever closer, therefore Josephine would try to avoid a clamor at all costs. The Antivan was probably furiously searching for her guard, with a timid Merrill in tow. Always check the kitchen first. A childish smirk curled at Zarina’s lips as she fondly remembered when Alistair was caught sneaking pastries from the kitchen when he was scheduled to be watching a younger Zarina. They were ignorant to the fact that he was trying to win over her friendship with brightly iced cookies and tarts.
A loud bark erupted from Elgar and the massive animal took off at an extraordinary gait towards the stables. “Elgar!” Zarina’s heart skipped a beat at the urgency with which her wolf ran. “Garas!” She yelled after the wolf, who continued to fly towards the building. Zarina gathered the hem of her silk slip in her fist and took off after the animal, who had quickly put distance between them. Muscles extended and retracted in ways that once came naturally, but now felt foreign. Legs that had grown accustomed to stagnation were now carrying the elf over beds of flowers and grass, quickly gaining ground on the wolf. The wind ripped at Zarina’s dress, trying to slow her from reaching her target, but her legs kept carrying her. She almost forgot what it felt like to run, to have adrenaline snake through her veins. She almost forgot what it felt like to be alive.
Elgar skidded to a stop in front of the stables, hackles erect and teeth bared. A young boy had placed himself between the sharp teeth of the wolf and the erratic shuffling of a nervous deer. Hands wrapped in stained cloth were raised apprehensively towards the poised wolf, his lips moved quickly but Zarina was still too far to make out the words.
“Elgar!” The final plea was ripped breathlessly from Zarina’s lips by the wind. A few more strides brought her to the scene, and to a fearsome wolf who had relinquished its teeth and offered its belly to the curious boy. Her bare feet brought her to a halt, and she unclenched the train of her dress to allow it to lick her exposed ankles once more, golden eyes took in the frail form of the boy. Gentle hands were covered in blisters, yet they ran over Elgar’s wiry coat without hesitation. Deep set eyes void of color were barely visible behind shaggy blonde hair, and cracked lips whispered calmly to the mass of dog beneath him. The lanky deer that once stood erect from panic was now grazing peacefully behind him, ears still alert to the boys words.
“I’m sorry about him.” Zarina began, she shifted from foot to foot uneasily. “He usually listens to me.”
“That’s quite alright.” The boy’s voice was smooth and quite, unlike his rugged appearance, and he spoke without looking up from the wolf. Zarina broke her gaze from the boy and her wolf, and she looked at the barn that stood worn down on the edge of the castle property. Wood from the surrounding forests had been gathered to construct the simple building, and the rain and sun made quick work of wearing the wood smooth. A small corral was adjacent to the barn, two chestnut colored horses nosed through patches of grass.
The strange boy stood suddenly, then turned towards the deer that grazed silently behind him. Elgar shifted to his side in disapproval, soft whines escaped him as he watched the boy move quietly away from him. Zarina clucked her tongue, signaling a reluctant wolf back to her side. Zarina eyed the boy curiously, then began to follow behind him.
“What exactly do you- oh!” The deer perked at her approaching, black eyes widened with fear, the deer bolted into the expanse of woods. The young boy helplessly watched at the deer shot between bushes and trees before disappearing in the thick of the forest.
“Oh gods, I am so sorry!” The frame of the boy turned on Zarina, and his eyes picked over her frame as if dissecting the elf before him. A moment passed between the pair and the forest that surrounded them held its breath, the boy shuffled his feet before finally responding.
“My name is Cole.” The words soared towards Zarina on the breath of an exhale. “I’m the groundskeeper.” His eyes fell to his hands, unable to hold Zarina’s questioning gaze, and a rough hand adjusted the bandages of the other. The frail frame of the boy seemed to shrink into his surroundings, as if he were a ghost of the barn. His eyes circulated his surroundings, but continuously failed to land on the fiery-haired elf before him. A soft whine escaped from the wolf at Zarina’s side, and he began to furiously wag his tail when the boy’s gaze fell on him.
A soft smiled spread across Zarina’s lips. “You have a way with animals.”
The boy fell onto his knees and the white mass of wolf excitedly scooted into Cole’s arms, tongue falling from his black lips as Cole’s hands found themselves behind the back of Elgar’s ears. An unspoken innocence seemed to radiate from the boy, as if he were a new spring bud that managed to push itself from the earth with a content sigh. Where there was innocence, sadness also seemed to lurk, like a stubborn weed that continued to harass the new bloom.
“Animals don’t ask for much.” His voice was smooth like glass, and each word was spoken with care. “I don’t either.”
“Princess! Zarina!” Sharp voices broke the calm that had settled between the elf and the boy. Elgar rolled away from Cole, body alert and rigid as his eyes scanned the party that was ascending on them. Josephine led the group, skirts gathered awkwardly in her hands to prevent her gown from dragging through the grass while still keeping the hem at a modest length. Merrill and Alistair closed in behind the Antivan, and Dorian kept a steady pace behind the leaders, face painted with a disheveled flair. Zarina stood to face the approaching group, fingers anxiously buried in Elgar’s scruff.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” The Antivan exclaimed, furious eyes taking in the sheerness of Zarina’s dress and the dirt that had gathered between her toes.
“I’m sure you have.” The words dripped with venom as Zarina pulled her face taunt with a smug grin. Merrill appeared from behind Josephine, bright eyes begged for Zarina to surrender to the group.
“We’re sorry about what happened.” Merrill’s voice was frail as she chose her words carefully. “Please come back with us.” Zarina’s gaze rested on each of their faces, forehead wrinkled from frustration. She turned to fall back into the calm that was the groundskeeper, but found that the boy had vanished back into his surroundings. The princess hesitated, then relinquished her grip on Elgar.
“Fine. Let’s go.” Her voice wavered despite her effort to conceal her emotions. Josephine’s lips parted, as if to offer a final word, but her painted lips were unable to form a comment. She simply turned towards the distant castle, hiked up her dress to expose a toned calf, then proceeded through the meadow. Alistair remained tight lipped, nodded to Dorian that they were to return. Dorian responded with a moody breath of disapproval, whipped the sweat that had accumulated on his brow, then followed the guard.
Merrill linked arms with Zarina, and the pair flanked the rest of the group with Elgar keeping pace beside them. Silence settled awkwardly between the pair, both unsure of how to process the chaotic morning. Anger rooted itself at the base of Zarina’s consciousness, she knew that Merrill meant well but her friend’s loyalty resided with her. Shame, or something of the sort, tried to soothe the anger, tried to reason that Merrill owned nothing to her. Zarina’s face flushed, and she tried to swallow the emotion.
“Here.” Merrill’s voice dropped to a suspicious whisper as she cast a wary eye over those that lead them. A hurried palm pressed something into Zarina’s, and a cluck of the tongue demanded Zarina’s silence. The princess’ fist fell to her side as she cast a confused eye over her friend, then chanced a look at the contents that she bore in secret. Parchment, with the edges unraveled from a fire. She could make out the simplicity of Solas’ writing.
“Is this..?” A sharp elbow in the princess’ ribs once again demanded her silence, but also confirmed her suspicions.
“You know magic is forbidden.” Zarina tried to curb the sharpness of her tongue, but she feared for her friends. Most of Orlais remained unforgiving of magic unless it was used for parlor tricks, Sebastian continuously lamented the use of magic, often described it as an uncontrollable plague. No one in the castle knew of Merrill’s power, of how she had accidentally burned Zarina’s eyebrows off when they were children. If the nobility were to find out, Merrill wouldn’t make it out of Orlais alive.
“You deserve to be happy, my friend.”
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