I’ve joined another writing event but this time on Twitter and this is my take on the first prompt “Campfire”, where Elluin and Varric have a heart-to-heart conversation about the burden of responsibility. Also on my AO3.
Words: 2002
Warnings: none.
A shiver rippled over Varric's skin at the sudden gust of cold wind, the dying small campfire failing to keep him warm. He sighed, wondering why he agreed to stay with the Inquisition, the long trips through woods, mountains and plains exhausting him. In moments like this, when the lack of comfort affected his morale, he wished he was back in Kirkwall with Hawke and her friends, enjoying a cold beer at the tavern and making up stories. Instead, he stood on a wood log, his butt still hurting from the long hours of riding, his stiff back begging him for a hot bath and a massage. His clothes weren't fit for the long days of travel, his cotton shirts and pants doing little to protect him against the capricious weather.
He huffed, shoving a stick in the fire, hoping it would bring it back to life, but he only succeeded in putting it off. "Great," he mumbled, crossing his arms before his chest, his warm breath fogging in the air. "I'll freeze until someone wakes up. Why is it so damn cold?"
He raised his eyes to watch the sky in an attempt to forget about the situation he found himself in, only to be greeted by the sight of the Breach, swirling and twisting above them like a silent threat, ready to swallow the whole world. Instead of making him feel better, the hair on the nape of his neck rose, and his muscles spasmed as if readying him to flee from a dangerous enemy before it got the change to attack him.
His lips slightly parted, his fingernails digging into the log as fear slowly crawled into his mind. How were they supposed to close it when none of them had any idea how it happened? When the only one who barely understood it was a suspicious elf who came out of nowhere, offering his help? The fate of the world stood on the shoulders of a few heretics who got dragged into this mess, with little to no support from the ones who should have dealt with it. His breath hitched in his throat at those thoughts, anxiety hovering above him.
The noise of the tent's flap opening startled him, and he almost jumped in place. He swiftly turned in the direction of the sound, curious to see who woke up this early in the morning.
The Herald left the tent yawning and scratching her wild curly hair. He frowned, noticing the unusual dark circles surrounding her eyes and the tiredness written on her face. Exhaustion shrouded her, and it slowly turned her from the laid back, always ready to joke elf to a snappy person, ready to fight at the slightest misunderstanding. This sudden change worried him, for it wasn't the first time he saw this transformation.
"Morning, Sparks," he greeted her with a broad smile on his face.
She acknowledged his comment with a tilt of her head and continued her morning routine, stretching her arms and legs until her joints stopped popping. After a few more minutes of light exercises, she finally joined him, creasing her nose at the cold, half-burned wood. With a swift flick of her hand, the fire took shape again, dancing lively and consuming the wood in a few seconds.
"You don't need wood to keep it burning?" he asked, leaning forwards and outstretching his arms to warm his palms over the fire.
"No," she shrugged, flicking her wrist again, the fire blazing even brighter. She sat on a log next to him to warm herself. "I don't need any wood to sustain it. As long as I have mana, it will burn."
He hummed, cocking his eyebrow at her explanation. Magical explanations always confused him and brought even more questions to his mind. In the end, it only mattered that the fire slowly warmed him, and the mage casting the spell was on his side.
"You're up early," he spoke as casually as he could after a few minutes of sitting in total silence.
She shrugged, wiggling her fingers, the campfire slithering in the rhythm of her hand movements. "Yeah. It happens."
"Been happening to you often. Are you getting enough sleep?"
She eyed him, pursing her lips into a thin line. "Are you monitoring my health? I thought Solas was supposed to do that."
He shuffled his legs uneasy, sensing the hint of annoyance in her voice. "Chuckles isn't the only one who's worried for you."
"Worried for me? Why?"
"You've been acting strange lately, randomly snapping at us. Just wondering if you're alright."
Her nostrils flared, and the fire suddenly sizzled, its flames growing bigger. He quickly pulled his arms back, raising an eyebrow at her. "See! This is what I mean."
"I'm sorry!" she apologised, squeezing her fingers into a fist and hiding them in the pockets of her trousers. "Are you all right?"
He waved his hand in dismissal, shaking his head at her. "It's fine. You didn't hurt me. But something's going on with you."
She ran one hand through her curls, a finger getting stuck into a hair knot. She yanked on it, her jaw tensing. With another yank, she released her finger only to clasp her hands in her lap. When she spoke again, he could hear the tension in her voice. "I haven't got enough sleep lately. "
"Nightmares?"
She nodded. "Yes. How did you know?"
He gave her a small, sad smile, stretching his hands again as the flames shrunk to a safe level. He stared at it, his eyes glassy with the memories of the past. "I've seen this look before, Sparks. You're not the only one hunted by nightmares. How bad is it?"
She stared into the fire, her eyebrows furrowed into a deep crease. "Bad. I've had them for almost two weeks. I barely get enough sleep to function at day."
He contemplated her face, noticing how the bags under her eyes turned purple, the whites of her eyes bloodshot and how her usually rose cheeks caught a sickly pallor, a few spider veins showing through the paleness of her cheek.
"I think Chuckles can help you with this since he's the expert in the Fade and the stuff you mages dream at night."
She snorted, glancing at him. "And how do you know that?"
"I've heard a few of your conversations. Can't he do a spell to drive your nightmare away?"
She bit on her lower lip. "I think so, yes. But I'm not going to ask for his help."
He rolled his eyes at her. "Look, I know you two have your differences, but you're not looking that good, Sparks. And he can help you. He won't say no to you."
A few months ago, this suggestion would have gained him a huff from the Herald, but now she nodded solemnly, without commenting on how annoying Solas was. He found it amusing how quickly they became friends, and he had a hunch this friendship might slowly turn into something else.
"We've solved our differences, Varric," she confirmed, staring down at her feet, deep in thought. "I know he'd help me. I just don't want to burden him with my problems."
He admired Lavellan's stubbornness and eagerness to stick to her moral ideas, but, at this moment, he had to suppress his need to roll his eyes at her comment.
"You won't burden him. It's his duty to take care of you. You hold the key to the safety of this world in your hand. You have to stay healthy, or else we're doomed."
She straightened her back, a frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. "So my health matters only because I'm bearing the Mark. Is that what you're trying to say?"
He sighed deeply and scowled at her knowing very well she tried to change the subject by bringing this up. "No. But your health is affected by this Mark, and we're here to help you."
"Well, I don't need your help," she barked, the fire blazing strongly again but, this time, her outburst did not impress him.
He spread his arms wide, drawing in a long breath, readying himself for the confrontation. "Look, Sparks. I get it. You don't like to talk about your feelings. You've been dealing with stuff alone since you left your Clan. But those things were simple, compared with what you have to do now. You're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. You need someone to talk with."
"No. I don't," she fumed, rubbing her temples, her skin turning red under her fingers. "I can deal with this alone."
He threw his hands up in frustration at her words, "No, you can't. Your fears won't let you sleep, and you need to talk about this. Before the bitterness and anger take control of you."
He could hear his blood pumping, her stubbornness giving him a headache. He took a deep breath in again to calm himself, but his heart still banged against his chest.
She jolted to her feet, balling her hands into fists. "Why do you care anyway? Isn't it like my lack of sleep is hurting you."
The question finally brought an end to his patience, and he found himself shouting, all of his worries making themselves heard." "Because one day, your anger will explode, and you will hurt everyone around you!"
She opened her mouth to speak, but no word came. She dropped back on the log, bowing her head. When she spoke again, her voice quivered. "I...would never think of hurting any of you."
His anger immediately dispersed, hearing the pain in her voice. He felt ashamed by his outburst, but the thought of her succumbing to her rage and fears made him realise he was right. He made the mistake of acting gently and carefully with Anders when he noticed the changes in him but never pushed him to seek help. He promised himself he won't make that mistake ever again, even if it meant shouting at the ones he cared about.
He reached for her shoulder, and she jerked under his touch but relaxed as he gave her a squeeze. She kept her head down, avoiding his eyes.
"I know, Sparks, I know," he spoke again, this time his voice softening, and he hoped she understood how much he cared about her and her well-being. And not only because she wore that cursed Mark but because he saw her as a friend. "But if you let your anger and fear build-up, it will happen. I've already seen that once. I don't want you to end up like that."
"You really think I should talk with Solas?” she asked, her voice just a whisper. She fidgeted with the rim of her blouse, wrapping it around her fingers.
"Yes. And if he won't help you, I'm here if you need to talk. I can't take your nightmares away, but I can listen. You're not alone."
When looked at him again, he saw tears forming at the corner of her eyes, but she quickly raised her hand and wiped them away. "I'll speak with Solas later. Thank you."
"It's fine, Sparks. Sometimes it's easy to forget others care about us.”
She rubbed her nose, sniffing loudly. "Kids learn only when you shout at them, right?"
He chuckled softly and released her shoulder. "Right."
They sat in silence for a few seconds, and before he could say anything, she got up again, but this time, her face showed no signs of anger. "I'll go get some wood for the fire."
He nodded at her, relief washing over him. "All right. I'll stay here."
She hummed in acknowledgement and strolled towards the forest. He watched her as she dragged her feet through the dust, head down, shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. He did the right thing by staying with the Inquisition because even heroes need a friendly shoulder to cry on.
I hope all my friends are doing well and having a good weekend. Also want to get out of my mind that I hope I’m not annoying. It’s not my intention to be, though I might come off as such or do things that might make it seem like I am, sometimes.
