rubatosis for halsa and alistair? 👀
Rubatosis - the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
They’re going to die down here.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
They’re going to die with layers on layers of impenetrable rock between themselves and Ferelden, which is going to collapse and rot, and so will they. He’s going to die down here with Morrigan.
thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-
His head rolls against the rock behind him, his back hurts from sitting on it, his feet from walking on it. There’s only rock down here, that’s all there is. They’re trapped between and under rock like a- like a... stone coffin - what are those called? There’s a name, there’s-
“Hey. Don’t think about it,” Halsa tells him. He can barely see her face even though she’s sitting right next to him.
“Oh, right,” Alistair murmurs back, “don’t think about it. Easy. Brilliant. Thank you.”
“I’m a helper,” she whispers.
He laughs uneasy, and bends to put his head between his knees. Her hand is cold on the back of his neck. He’s sweating.
thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump
“Maker, your heart,” she says.
Morrigan snaps, “Will the two of you kindly shut your fool mouths before you attract every creature in the area?”
“We can tell where they are,” Halsa says. “It’s not like- Shit!”
thumpTHUMPthumpTHUMPthumpTHUMP
A gurgle, a growl rips from the corner where Oghren is sleeping - snoring.
They laugh. One of Halsa’s legs is draped over his now.
“I think I heard yours too,” Alistair says.
Oghren sits up and blurts, “Where?”
“’S your watch, dwarf,” Halsa tells him.
Morrigan sighs, mutters something, “...entombed with a drunk and two-”
“Sarcophagus,” Alistair announces. “That’s what they’re called.”
Halsa snorts, and wraps an arm around him. Morrigan groans.
What light there was vanishes as Morrigan quits doing whatever magic she was doing to keep it. It’s quiet again.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
He hates this. Unequivocally. He’s always hated the dark, this sort of dark, where you can’t even see your hand in front of your face. He grips his knees tighter, drawing in, centering.
Still next to him, Halsa pulls him down with her, awkwardly scooting until she finds her bedroll and sort of rolling onto it. He settles on his side. She climbs over him and curls against his back.
This is nice, her nose against his neck, her arm around his waist, her hand-
She’s stroking up and down the inside of his thigh, apparently trying to drive him mad.
“I, um- I beg to differ.”
She snickers against the back of his neck. “Well, you’re not losing your shit anymore, are you?”
He can’t disagree with that. He can feel her heart beating against his chest, in time with his own.
