Variations On The Word Love: Oghren-Guilt
āYou musta been pretty mad at somethinā, Girly.ā
Ā It probably isnāt too advisable for Oghren to be addressing his leader as āGirlyā but as far as humans go, Lis is informal enough. Itās probably what makes it so easy for him to follow her. That and the fact that he has absolutely nothing to go back to in sodding Orzammar but thatās beside the point. She could make it difficult. She could have turned him away. Lis (and heās the only one to call her by that or any sort of nickname, heās noticed) keeps him, though, for whatever reason, and even makes him feel useful. One of the reasons he just couldnāt turn her away when she requested he train her as a Berserker.
Ā That and, well, he likes the kid, hard as heās tried not to.
Ā Itās the main reason that his guts clenchāand not from the questionable slop Alistair served up, thanksāwhen her face shifts.
Ā A subtle thing, to someone who hasnāt slogged through mud and darkspawn entrails with her for weeks it would go unnoticed. Mostly because it stays in her eyes. The unnatural blue, those paragon-polished sapphires, lose their light and itās replaced byā¦Nothing.
Ā The vacancy chills him to the bone both because he gives a pickled nugās rump about the chit and because heās seen that emptiness in the mirror before. Ancestors, he still does, when he sobers up enough and is stupid enough to find his reflection before downing a barrel of mead.
Ā Oghren knows what Lisā lost, has heard the whispers, and was told more than he wanted during a cursedly long nightās watch by that old chatterbox from the Circle.
Ā Thatās what really makes him like this big whelp of girl: everyone in their merry little group has lost something on the road but Elissa and Oghren? Theyāre the last of their lines, unlucky survivors of whatever sodding all-powerful arse tugs at the strings of fate. They are ghosts who live and watch the rest of the world with envy, hoping that one day maybe, just maybe, theyāll find a door back in.
Ā Or be lucky enough to die before even the numbness offered from drink (him) the good cause of this Blight (her) isnāt enough to fend the void off.
Ā Until then, thereās the rage and heft of a good, head-cleaving swing.
Ā The void is hidden in a breath and Lis smiles down at him, offering him the water-skin she carries on her belt. She lies to herself so well, Oghren canāt not be proud of her. Or jealous, for that matter.
Ā āāCourse Iām angry,ā she says as he takes the flask. āI got myself knocked over twelve times by someone who shouldnāt be even be able to keep upright, all the ale youāve put in you today. My tail and my pride are positively bruised, Oghren.ā
Ā He grunts as he swills down half the skin. Itās not a real drink but heās not picky when heās thirsty. āWell, you best get out the salve, then, Girly.ā Oghren tosses the skin back to her, secretly delighting as she catches it with a single hand in one smooth motion; she knows him so well. āāCause we aināt done yet.ā
Ā There is a comfort, Oghren decides, as he sends Elissa flying arse-over-applecart a thirteenth time, in sharing a hankering for the grave with someone, unspoken as it may be. Comfort enough that thereās the distinct possibility that said hankering will get duller by the day.
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