A tiny one shot born out of insomnia and intense brooding. The title is taken from Keane’s ‘Perfect Symmetry’- go listen to that song right now, it’s amazing! Huge thanks to @pikapeppa as always for beta reading and fixing my crimes against the English language!
He never gives away, but rather gifts and is immediately rewarded tenfold. He never feels bereft or taken advantage of, but invited, welcomed and cherished.
Where once his pain, his blood and sweat had meant less than nothing, and pleasure was a foreign concept not of this reality, now... now his every breath and little sigh of contentment are treated as wondrous things to be collected and treasured.
Bit by bit, metal spikes and feathers fall off of him, unnecessary; his battered skin not wanting to be hidden, but craving her touch, to be caressed and soothed.
She never takes, only asking for what he is already more than willing to give her.
She pleads, even though he doesn't want her to, for he and his every breath are already hers. So he hastens, eager to anticipate her every desire, his kisses urgent and firm, for this is the only time he doesn't want her to talk. Every other moment of the day, he enjoys Eris using her voice to reason, to comfort, to amuse. But now he knows she will only beg, and this simply won't do. He will never beg again, and she will never have to start to.
They both give freely and receive with gratitude. They have found a gentle balance, by all accounts impossible; why the universe unbent itself to allow someone like him find happiness, he will never know. And yet, their tiny world in which everything is as it should be, exists. And he, a perfectionist to the last, revels in it, pledging in his heart to do anything to protect it.
And as the urgency rises, his mind presses all those thoughts together, scattered dust giving way to crystal clear form, until there's no dichotomy, no logic, no intent, but only her name on his lips.
"Eris" he breathes out, there, at the end.
She kisses his sweaty forehead tenderly. "Your look of utter concentration will never seize to amaze me. You had the same expression while solving Merril's wooden puzzle box the other day," she says with a cheeky smile.
"You will regret teasing me, you know." His hands quickly descend to her sides.
Eris squealed and wiggled under his touch. "You went straight for the ribs, you fluffy goose! Stop tickling me!"
"It's only fair. Had you not interrupted me with your silliness, I would've said I love you. But you get what you deserve," he says with as much seriousness as he can muster in this position, raised up a bit on his elbows to properly look at her.
Instead of continuing their mock argument, Eris suddenly envelops him in a tight embrace, burying her head in the crook of his neck.
"As long as I deserve you, Fenris, that's all that matters," her slightly muffled voice says from somewhere under his chin.
"I love you," he whispers, kissing the top of her head and restoring the balance.
What a day, what a day! I get beautiful artwork of two different (almost) couples from @lethendralis-paints, @tryvyalsynnes, and my epic RP saga, Tevinter Knights. This one features my new Lyanna Lavellan, trying her hardest to flirt with Fenris after he saved her life at a wedding in Minrathous.
It doesn’t go well. Here’s a little snippet of the accompanying dialogue that @lethendralis-paints and I put together for this piece!
Artwork by the ineffable @lethendralis-paints!
L: I was horrified to hear from your friends over there that you’ve sat out every dance this evening! It’s a travesty that must be remedied, immediately.
F: Is it? I'm perfectly content at the moment. Do not worry yourself, Inquisitor!
L: Perhaps I’m here to sow a little discontent then! I humbly offer myself up for this noble cause. [She bows to him, smiling.]
F: [Scans room for the nearest exit.] "I....I must decline your gracious offer, I do not dance. But I am sure there are dozens of people here more deserving of your attention, Inquisitor!"
L: [She sighs, smiling and moving ever so slightly closer.] Then I suppose neither of us will be doing any dancing.
F: [Bushy eyebrows draw together] "Forgive me, but I do not like where this is going"
L: [Her eyes widen, and frowning, she glances around] I... I had forgotten I had promised Dorian I would find him a drink. I must be off, then! Thank you for the conversation, Fenris.
There were only a few constants to the ever-changing landscape of Wounded Coast, constantly torn apart by harsh, unrelenting winds from the sea. These were the salty dunes, and the long menacing shadows cast by melancholic sunset, and there were always bodies of some poor sods either stupid enough to challenge Hawke's merry band of misfits or unfortunate enough to fall prey to many dangers of the region. And as common as it was to see sun falling towards the darkening sea, so it was for Eris to lose herself in thought.
After making sure their camp's fire pit was set and stew was bubbling, Eris sat down to pick a humble burdock flower from the ground, and her thoughts, unsurprisingly, turned towards certain prickly companion, who was currently busy with Aveline hauling bandit corpses over the nearest cliff so that they could have a moderately comfortable spot to camp for the night.
Lately Eris had come to the conclusion that she loved that underfed elf. Desperately so. She wondered how that had come to be.
It wasn’t for his looks, even though she found him dashing; the cruel markings were not enough to dim his effortless beauty. It wasn't even the voice, smooth enough to melt the stone she was currently perched on. It was the honesty, Eris concluded.
For all the spiky armour and aloof manners, Fenris was like an open book to anyone who cared enough to learn about him more. And Eris never passed a book without at least peeking in.
She liked what she saw. Under the rough leather cover, there was an unconquerable will, a burning fire of hope and a lonely soul desperate for meaningful connection.
Eris tenderly brushed her fingers over the tiny flower's fluffy crown. Then Fenris settled down beside her.
"Does studying weeds bring you closer to solving the secrets of our Universe?" he asked with a chuckle.
"No, you git!" she said, and hit him right in the ribs with a well-aimed elbow. He winced and rubbed his side, but nevertheless kept smiling. Taking the burdock flower from Eris' hand, he studied it intently.
"I was actually thinking it reminded me of you," she continued tentatively.
"Clingy and useless?" he said with a frown.
Eris measured him with a glare. "Beautiful and resilient, actually.” She was rewarded with an adorable blush spreading over his freckled cheeks.
Fenris turned away for a moment, and that moment was enough for her to regret her words. She started panicking and thinking of at least four different ways to turn the conversation into a joke before flinging herself off the nearest cliff, just to be sure she never embarrassed herself like this again.
And then his brilliant green eyes were back with that intense look that was unique to him.
"There isn't a flower in this world that could be compared to your exceptional beauty, Hawke."
“I...ummmm...oh, wow".
Merrill's distressed call broke the suddenly thickening air between them. "Hawke, is this stew supposed to smell so funny?"
Eris jumped from the boulder in alarm. “Oh no, I forgot about it entirely! Coming!" In a fit of bravery, she kissed the spiky elf on the cheek and rushed to save their dinner.
Sharing a tiny pebble from the Tevinter Knights, as always!
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"In truth, I do not know, Anders," he said with a heavy sigh, "I have limited knowledge of shifts in power on such a grand scale. Petty underhanded intrigue was the bread and butter of Minrathous politics while I was there. But... from what I have seen in Seheron, it is the common folk, those who have no desire to join in on the perpetuation of violence, who will suffer the most. The balance of powers is shifting here, that is for certain, but I have no reason to believe that it will lead to improvement of lower classes lives. Thousands of years of Tevinter history point to the opposite. Heroes make heroic sacrifices, leadership changes, but the oppression remains."
He leaned forward oh the terrace railing, lowering his head.
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Baby Porcupine being all smart and thoughtful again!
Tagging forward to @schoute (give me that nouir AU!) @pikapeppa (anything will do!) @whatsherfacewrites @tryvyalsynnes @aban-asaara @theherocomplex @codenamecynic @bettydice @loquaciousquark (will anything remotely good be happening to our heroes in your new story?!) and anyone else who wished to join in! Hugs!
Always the one to find himself more at ease around fauna rather than humans, Fenris craved the simple emphatic contact domestic animals provided. Everyone at Danarius' household knew that the feared Lyrium Ghost, their master's bodyguard, only lowered his guard around the livestock, especially horses.
Patting the head of a beautiful chestnut mare, no doubt the estate's prized possession, Fenris fed her a few apples he picked up on the way here and sat down on the hay stack that took up most of the space in the mare's stall, his back pressed to the horses warm and silky side. The gentle noises of the stable's inhabitants calmed his racing heartbeat after a while and he was able to close his eyes and sort out the whirlwind of thoughts inside his head.
What Justice has said in all honesty had nearly crushed him. If true - and he had no reason to disbelieve the Spirit's words - it meant that he should abandon all hope of ever recovering the parts of his life lost to amnesia. It was as if he had never existed before the ritual. Danarius kept mocking him even from his grave, it seems. *Merdam, that bastard deserved much more then having his throat neatly crushed.*
Fenris took a few steadying breaths, but that did nothing to sooth the pain, ripping his chest from the inside. He hugged the mare's neck, hiding his face in her soft mane. For a while no noise could be heard from the stable's corner, the elf's shoulders silently shaking.
He should be crying his eyes out, but he long forgotten how to do that. Fenris prided himself for remaining stoic under any beating or magical spell the former master and his apprentice deigned to throw at him as a form of entertainment. He never once broke down. Perhaps it would be easier if he could do so now. But for good or ill he was a fearful weapon, hardened to the point of metal blade singing at the lightest touch. He would ride this out, pick himself up and continue on, burying the hurt deep under the layers of leather and spikes.
Tired beyond belief Fenris never noticed his breathing leveling out and slowing, as he fell asleep, still clinging to the soft fur of his unlikely companion.
Tagged by a friend in mischief @midnightprelude who is also responsible for saving the English language from me! Thank you so much!
Tagging forward @whatsherfacewrites @aban-asaara @minionripley @bettydice @schoute @pikapeppa are always on the list
Having so many extremely talented writer friends should rub off on me someday, right, right?! Should I drink their bath water or something?
I’m attempting to write a thing.... Here’s hoping it will come together.
It’s tied to the Ariverse, I guess. Eris, Fenris and the gang battling that incomprehensible stone-demon-abomination thingy in the Deep Roads.
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Demons should have no right to possess mountains, mused Eris, giving the abomination a once over. That thing was huge. Ginormous even. Her thoughts as usual, turning to a particular blend of macabre humour in times of mortal peril, which had unfortunately become quite a common occurrence in their lives of late....
After casting force waves in rapid succession as well as exhausting every other spell she knew, Eris began to register with horror that none of their attacks seemed to be hurting that ugly collection of rocks. Varric’s bolts bounced off the stone surface without making a scratch. Anders’s fire spells,which he preferred to use regardless of the situation at hand, seemed to only harden the Abomination’s outer layers. Even Fenris’s peculiar sword technique, with its broad but quick slashes and far-reaching lunges, which would typically make quick work of any foe they had previously encountered, slicing them into uniform pieces, was leaving only shallow scratches on Abomination’s annoyingly shiny granite sides.
It seems our luck has run dry, thought the force mage bitterly, her hands shaking from overexertion.
And just as I started to entertain the hope of finally getting a feel of that cute, firm elven butt. Oh well, at least we got to share that one kiss before facing a heroic death together. It will make for a tear-jerking poem one day.
Her inner monologue was cut short by that exact cute, firm, elven butt flying across the cavern right next to her and about to smash into the far wall. A hastily thrown gravity pillow spell stopped him from crashing against the stone and cushioned Fenris' fall to the floor.
Swift as lightning, the elf picked himself up from the ground and jumped into the fray again, rushing past her in a glowing haze, smelling of ozone. He was grumbling something under his breath, but she managed to only discern "fututus et mori in igni". Eris interpreted it as him inviting the demon for tea and biscuits.
