Hi, darling, and thank you for the prompt. <3 How about some Bethbela? Ok, here goes nothing. @dadrunkwriting
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Bethany travels light. She's got little more than a staff, a coin-purse, and a nondescript set of light armour to her name when she's on a mission. Anything extra just gets in the way and risks to compromise Warden business — and the same applies to squad mates.
Right now she carries information — safely tucked away into her memory — as she rushes from Denerim to Amaranthine. The forest around her grows darker as the last beams of sunlight bathe the treetops, but the village she seeks for shelter isn't far. She just needs to keep up the pace.
Weariness weighs her eyelids, but experience keeps her steps light, even as the way dims. However, something unusual catches her eye when the path curves — a campfire glows nearby.
Huh, that's strange.
She slows to a sneak, a hand instinctively reaching for her staff. A rough laugh echoes from the camp; her nose crinkles in displeasure. Are these the bandits she's heard complaints of in local taverns?
It's not a Warden problem, she tells herself, they can't interfere with—
"That's it? That's all you got? Pathetic."
Bethany draws to a halt, the voice freezing her into place. She'd recognise it anywhere.
The nasty laugh bellows, followed by a loud slap and a demand: "Talk, woman! Where is it?!"
This has become Warden b— no, Bethany's business. She approaches the camp swiftly, silently, crouched so a line of bushes conceals her. A spell ready on her lips for when she sees the presumed assailant.
There's three men in the camp, including the one Bethany's heard, and that's who she aims her first paralysing spell on. A ball of white light hits him smack in his chest and he falls onto his back, alerting the others. She crouches again; leaves obscure her vision of the camp and she dodges an arrow by sheer luck, prompting her to splurge some mana on a personal shield.
Isabela needs her.
The two others suffer the fate of their friend; she's nothing if not quick and well-trained — battle-hardened, these days. But skill in combat doesn't help with what she's left with. Isabela stands by the campfire, her profile lined with the yellow glow.
Bethany lifts to her feet and swallows. All the nights spent in rough linens, softened by warm touches rush back to her. She never knew the right words to say, then, and she sure doesn't now.
Perhaps this was a mistake.
She almost turns to leave, but Isabela speaks first.
"You know, that was meant to be a negotiation." Amber eyes turn from the fire, fixate on her. Alight, as she always remembers them. "I was never in danger. Not that I don't appreciate your gallantry."
Isabela's dry little chuckle lifts the corner of Bethany's lips, even bitter as it sounds. She can't quite help it.
It's been years, and their ending was rough, and yet... there Isabela stands, as glorious as ever. Captivating, strangely majestic. Bethany never stopped lo— caring, and it's useless to claim otherwise.
"Sorry to have ruined it," Bethany responds, softer than she intended. She marches into the camp, her steps surer than she feels, and nods towards the paralysed bully who'd surely hit Isabela. "Guess you could clean their pockets and redo your plan."
Isabela nods, setting out to rummage through each of their pockets. In between discarding disappointing finds, she looks at Bethany. There's a fair bit of calculation in her eyes — already rerouting, Bethany knows — and finally Isabela approaches her and crosses her arms on her chest. "You know what, sweet thing? I think you owe me."
"Yeah?" Bethany says, her cynical snap almost the real thing. She pokes the bully with her boot for want of something better to do. The frozen surprise on his face doesn't flinch; her spellwork is never half-arsed.
"Yeah. I think you owe me a drink. Or twelve."
Bethany shrugs. "If you insist." She gestures for Isabela to follow — the thugs may be paralysed, but they can still see and hear. They'll be stuck like this all night, but names are dangerous. Knowledge is power.
By the time they'll stir, Bethany will have something much worse than their revenge to worry about — how to mend a heart twice broken.
From the Dragon Age Promptober - 10, 11, 22 or 24 for Isabela/Bethany or Leliwarden please
Thank you for the prompt, my darling. <3 I'll go for Bethbela and "10. In Death, Sacrifice" -- for @dadrunkwriting
Warning: Major character death. It's tragedy hours over here.
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Bethany's hand shakes around a cup of coffee. The morning is bright, the sky so blue, and the birds sing their spring melodies. There's a gentle wind in her hair as she sits on the terrace of her and Isabela's beach house.
Her nightmares have always been bad, but rarely have they followed to her waking hours. Lately it's been more a rule than exception.
She takes a sip of coffee, and that's when she hears it.
A distant chime, as if carried from the sea.
Bethany swallows, barely able to lay down the cup without spilling. She's not ready. Not... not yet.
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"You're humming again," Isabela says, looking at Bethany from over her shoulder. "What is that song?"
Heard it at the market.
A sailor sang it at the tavern the other week.
The panicked lies nearly escape Bethany's lips, but she thinks better of it: Isabela's eyes betray worry.
Resting her berry basket on the grass, she sighs and looks away. She can't keep doing this.
"I... hear it," she confesses quietly, unable to meet her lover's gaze. Can't risk it, lest she breaks and chooses Isabela's juice-stained lips over hard truths about love stories cut short. "It's time."
There's a beat of silence before warm arms close around her. Burying her nose in Isabela's hair, Bethany cries. She's not ready.
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Leaves crunch beneath their feet, barely audible through the Song, but Isabela's hand in Bethany's is firm and calming. The path feels long and winding, but she walks with determination she doesn't really feel.
They haven't spoken in what feels like hours.
There's so much left unsaid, so much more they both wanted, but nothing changes the trajectory Bethany is on. It's been twenty years. Twelve of them happy, filled with the steady kind of love she thinks neither of them believed in before.
Steady like the steps Bethany takes. Steady like the hold Isabela has on her hand.
When they reach the entrance to the Deep Roads, it's Isabela who breaks. Her breath is choppy on Bethany's neck, her arms too tight around her frame, and Bethany wants nothing more than for the two of them to melt together right there. Stay here forever.
She's not ready.
"I love you," she whispers, barely making out her own voice. Reading the response from Isabela's lips, drawn on her skin.
They kiss, and kiss again, until Bethany knows the feel of Isabela can carry her to the end.
"Live for me," she pleads in lieu of goodbye, and it's only once Isabela is out of sight that she cries.
Hello, darling! <3 Thank you so much for the prompt! 👀
@dadrunkwriting Prompt: 10. Distracting the other with sex
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"I should really get back to my m—"
Godren can't quite finish the sentence; the elf in his lap surges forward and shuts him up with a hard kiss.
"Ravendras, there's work to be done."
"Work?" the elf in question grins, tilting his head and upsetting the hair he's swept back; it falls on his face like a silk curtain. "First time someone calls me that, but if that means you'll do me... I suppose I'll accept it."
Before Godren can protest, swift hands undo his templar sash with practiced ease. Well, it would have been a token protest, anyway. He doesn't bother with further complaints when the elf's fingers find what they're looking for; he leans back, supporting his weight on his elbows.
"You're a piece of work, you know that?"
The answering chuckle is muffled in the best possible way — against his length — but its notes are amused. Godren closes his eyes; the recruits can wait a while longer, he decides.
Henloes and thank you for asking about my favourite muffin. <3
1. How does your OC feel about their full name?
- In all the settings he has an incarnation in, it's troublesome in one way or another. In Dragon Age and Warcraft he never tells anyone his surname, although the reasons are different. In Warcraft he's trying to hide his exiled status, so he goes by first name only if he doesn't know you well. In Dragon Age I haven't come up with a good surname and the Warcraft one can't be imported and aaaahhhh help me I hate names it's problematic For Reasons.
3. How does their social personality differ from how they act when they’re alone?
- Ravendras is sweet. He actually smiles a lot when it's just him and he's lost in thoughts, but when he's put in public, he stiffens instantly and exudes this cold and awkward air. Although it needs to be said that his Warcraft version is much, much stiffer than the DA one. Thanks, Void whispers.
5. Do they have a “tell” for when they’re lying?
- Excessive sweating. Lying makes Ravendras a sweaty, sweaty boy.
8. How much jewelry do they wear, and do they have a favorite or distinguishing piece?
- The DA Ravendras is too poor to own the kind of jewelry he'd want. Poor as he may be, he won't settle for inferior quality. His Warcraft version, however, always carries an enchanted amulet hidden beneath his shirt and has two golden earrings in his right ear. The amulet keeps up his illusion that he's just a regular sin'dorei (void-touched? who? him? no no no noo...). One of his earrings was meant to become an enchanted key into the academy he went to, but it never came to be; he received a key badge instead. The other earring he acquired when his friend started a tattoo and piercing shop and he wanted to support her.
Aahh! I am so bad at remembering things having favourite scenes. XD Any in which Karen gets to speak (she's so sweet most of the time!) or in which COOL MOM appears.
