So... who's Scout Harding, really?
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So... who's Scout Harding, really?
You're Fereldan, aren't you? You have that look about you. I was in Denerim not too long ago.
Hey everyone! Although we've finished posting any new editing events for the time being, we've decided to compile a list of all our previous events so that you may still take part in them if you wish.
In every event, there is one character prompt and one colouring prompt. You can choose either option, both, or combine them. You can create as many edits as you like! You can find them under the cut:
31. “You snuck into my room, at 4am…to cuddle?”
I don’t know how to write atm but that's everyone else's problem. --------------------------------- Cassandra sits up with a jolt when she hears the front door to her apartment click shut. Of all the nights to forget the security chain, she admonishes herself as she reaches under her bed for the baseball bat that she keeps under there. It always felt foolish having it there considering her apartment was in a nice neighbourhood with good security. She had spent the night with Ellana, but had arrived home a little after midnight after a text from Cullen telling her there was a 7am meeting at the precinct to go over the case they were working on. The bat is smooth beneath her fingers as she tightens her grip, bare feet stepping quietly on plush carpet as she makes her way to her open bedroom door. She frowns when she hears the sound of keys being set down on polished wood, she’d always kept hers in a bowl on the side table near the front door. Who does this person think they are? Cassandra squints, watching the shadow of the intruder move quietly around the room. The dim street lights barely illuminating anything through the half-drawn curtains. She watches as they move towards the kitchen, her hands flexing around the narrow neck of the bat. They were small, and it would be easy enough for her to subdue them. And she had memorised the layout of her apartment so there was nowhere for them to hide. She watches as they take a glass from the drying rack on the sink, lowering the bat in confusion when the familiar figure of Ellana is illuminated in harsh white light that spills from the open fridge door as they reach for a pitcher of water. “Ellana?” Cassandra asks in half asleep confusion. She had given her her spare building pass and front door key a few days ago. She just hadn’t expected that she would use them anytime soon. “You’re awake?” Ellana replies raising the glass to her lips, taking a long sip. Something was off about her, but in her tiredness Cassandra couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “What are you doing here?” Cassandra asks, taking in the welcome sight before her. Ellana was dwarfed by the oversized hoodie that she was wearing, the hem somewhere down around her leggings clad knees and the sleeves rolled up around her elbows. Her usually neatly braided hair tangled around her face and spilling out of her collar. Something was wrong because she doesn’t answer, just turns away from her to rinse her glass and put it back on the rack that she’d taken it from. The question is on the tip of her tongue, ready to be asked again - the sooner she got to the bottom of this the sooner she could go back to bed after all - but she hesitates when she hears a small sniff and a deeply drawn breath. She rests the bat against the wall, her feet taking her to where her heart needed to go. “What's wrong?” Cassandra asks quietly, concern gnawing at her ribs. Ellana flinches at her soft touch on her arm, and Cassandra pulls her hand away, perplexed. Her reaction feels like a slap, and Cassandra takes half a step back. Ellana’s fingers claw at the thick fabric covering her arms as she curls in on herself. She looks like she's about to break and Cassandra watches her hesitantly, wary and unsure of what to do - how to help. “Can I touch you?” Cassandra asks softly. Ellana nods, biting her lip. She’s seen people in such states before in her work, but seeing it firsthand in the woman she loved? She hated how powerless she felt. How unfamiliar the woman in front of her was compared to her usual cheerful self. Cassandra steps forward, holding her hands palm up like she would with a skittish horse to show that she isn’t a threat. That she means no harm. She pulls Ellana into a tight embrace, cradling her head against her neck as she hums a quiet tune. Ellana is stiff against her at first, but eventually, she begins to thaw. To soften. Small hands bunch in her threadbare shirt, nimble fingers picking at the holes in the fabric. She draws a thick shaky breath and tilts her head back to look at Cassandra. Ellana is warm where she curves into her, moulding herself against all the places that their bodies meet. “Thank-you,” she murmurs, her voice a rasp in the quiet darkness. “Anytime,” Cassandra sighs, her breath teasing the wisps of hair that frames Ellana’s face. “Do you want to go to bed?” “Please.” The bedroom is quiet as they settle themselves, and Cassandra sighs when Ellana wraps herself around her. Curse the timing, and the time she laments, the warmth between the body pressed up against her and the soft feather quilt was a luxurious indulgence that she wanted more than a few hours to savour. “I’m sorry,” Ellana whispers against her neck. “What for?” “Letting myself in in the middle of the night.” “I never would have given you a key if I didn’t trust you. But I am not about to complain, you’re always welcome here Ellana,” Cassandra reassures her. She’s curious as to why she was here in such a state early in the morning - 3:57am the eerily green glowing alarm clock on her bedside table tells her - but Cassandra knows Ellana well enough to not push her to speak before she is ready. “I… had a bad dream and I needed company. Needed you.” Ellana murmurs, her voice tired and small, husky on the edges but laced with warmth. Ellana had only ever mentioned her nightmares once or twice, never going into much detail about them. Something she can’t quite name stirs within her at the thought that the first thing that Ellana wanted after waking up in distress was her. She was never any good at this emotional support thing but with Ellana it feels easy. “You broke into my apartment at 4am because you needed a cuddle?” Cassandra asks, trying to bring some light to the darkness in the room. “Creators when you put it that way it sounds foolish,” Ellana groans. “And it's not breaking in if I have a key.” She had a point. Cassandra lays there quietly, drifting contentedly between the shores of awake and dreaming with Ellana heavy in her arms. How much longer could she lay here? She wishes that she never replied to Cullen’s message earlier. Wishes that she could ignore the responsibilities that tether her to wakefulness and spend a lazy morning in bed with her love. “If I told Cullen that I came down with a sudden bout of illness do you think he’d believe me?” “No. But at least it's Friday and we can spend the entire weekend right here if we want.” Cassandra sighs. Ellana was right, as usual. The dawn paints the walls slowly, grey and gold kissed by pink. She leaves quietly, not wanting to disturb Ellana or her rest. The leather of her shoes creaks softly with each step she takes, looking forward to the end of her day and the retraced footsteps that will lead her back to the woman who makes everywhere feel like home.
We're both Shadow Dragons, and both from Minrathous. Maybe our paths haven't crossed, but I know our work has. It's a start.