(Randomnonsensedragonage) For DWC, how about "Secrets beneath floorboards, memories in the walls"?
Thank you, dearest!! ❤️❤️ I believe this is the first I’ve interacted with you? I hope you’re having a wonderful night!
@dadrunkwriting For the first time since my very brief attempt at rp, I present the premiere fill of Ghani Lavellan! And, with immense gratitude to my bestie, @shift-shaping, for allowing me to borrow (and hopefully not besmirch) Ghani’s only friend in the world and my favorite Warden of all time, Eirwen Surana! ❤️❤️❤️
She had learned as a child that, if one sits very still and listens very carefully, some places will tell of their past. They will allow their mysteries to seep up from the ground, through the skin and into the bloodstream. With certain places, it hangs in the very air; only becoming clearer with each breath, every step taken inside. Other places are more difficult, keeping their secrets buried beneath the floorboards, deep down into the very roots of the foundation. Those places hide the corpses of memories deliberately in the walls, bricked over while still vivid and screaming within their mortared tombs. In this respect, Skyhold was a unique amalgamation. Ghani had retreated quickly following the ordination, curious to explore the keep before the rubble was picked through and scoured. She could feel the current of riddles beneath the surface: a riptide of mysteries to drown her mind, if only she could find a way to submerge herself.... But there was a net, a tension of resistance she couldn’t seem to pierce. She gave a soft huff, opening her eyes to take in the soft blue sky peeking in amid broken ceiling slats. Flooding in through crumbling stone and collapsing wood, golden sunbeams of late noon illuminated eddies of dancing dust, and a gentle breeze flashed the leaves of crape myrtle from red to yellow in the light. There was something soothing about this room, both sheltered and open, ivy grasping at the eroding mortar between stones to climb the walls. She wondered, in passing, which of her new associates would choose this room for their own, if they would fix the damages and wall out the sky, whether they would evict the crape myrtle tree or allow it to stay. It had been so strange, these last few days, surrounded by people. She hadn’t a moment to herself, and yet, with more company than she could bear, she had never felt so lonely. Now she was perfectly alone, at last, and she felt very nearly whole again. The slow creak of the door below snapped Ghani from her reverie. Panicking, she lay completely still, barely breathing. The whisper of a boot step on the floor, quickly followed by two more, and by the time the ladder groaned with new weight, she had stopped breathing altogether. She clenched with white-knuckles at the fabric of her robes, her pulse a deafening thrum in her ears.
“Gha-weh-vha-near,” Recognizing Eirwen’s grin as it popped into view, a wave of relief passed over her, “There you are.”
Eirwen Surana was probably the single person in the entire castle that was pleased to see her, and the first person she’d ever met that she might call friend. Freckled ears flushed at the Warden’s teasing way of over-pronouncing Ghani’s (mouthful of a) name, though she didn’t mind it at all. She was still acclimating to being fondly teased. Surana crawled over to where she lay, loosing an armful of jugs and decanters before rolling over to mirroring her pose. Ghani examined a bottle, glancing to Eirwen’s unapologetic shrug, surprising herself with a sharp bark of laughter.
“Already found the wine cellar, I see?” Her slight Orlesian accent slipping out around her ‘l’s and ‘s’s.
“Don’t pretend you don’t need a drink,” Eir gave a cheeky wink as she tugged a cork free with her teeth. “I saw you up there, nearly toppling over with that sword over your head.”
“Oh, I am definitely not complaining,” Struggling to open the bottle in her hand, finally taking a long sip.
They drank in comfortable silence for a time; Ghani felt the warmth spreading from her chest as a pleasant defense against the cooling breeze and slow approach of dusk. She let her eyes wander across the crumbling walls and roof, the creeping ivy, the crape myrtle burning tangerine and honey in the setting sunlight.
“What are you thinking about?” Surana whispered, as though not to startle her, “You looked far away and happy.”
“I was thinking of new places,” Her head lolled towards the Warden, smiling softly, “New places and all the history that they hold.”
“Pffft,” Eirwen arched her back with a laugh, “You’re beginning to sound like Solas.”
