#t morrigan

[elissaromildecousland]

Satinalia Gift - [for Morrigan]

Elissa felt like a girl again, lying draped diagonally across her bed, feet crossed at the ankles and kicking back and forth at the knee. She lay on her stomach and watched with a subtle smile while Morrigan worked to open her gift. When the other woman looked up, she shook her head pointed again to the half-opened paper. "Open it!" "If you wish I should focus, then cease to be so distracting." The witch smirked, running her eyes along the fair, naked skin of her lover's body. "I can get dressed..." Elissa suggested, starting to roll over. "You shall do no such thing, unless you wish to reap the punishment for such an offense." Dark eyebrows arched, and then relaxed when the assassin settled. She trailed the nails of one hand along the woman's side, smirking at the very vocal response she received before shifting her focus once again to her gift. "You take too long." There was a trill of low laughter at the responding glare. "And you are lacking in patience." "I'm sorry." Elissa pouted, dropping her chin onto the back of her hand. "It's our first Satinalia together. I'm nervous. I just want you to like it." Morrigan raised her eyes at the tone, recognizing that something had shifted even if the reasons behind it were unclear. "A tangible gift was unnecessary, Elissa. I assure you that the two rather exceptional orgasms you just gave me have already made for a most excellent holiday insofar as I am concerned. But, as it holds importance to you, I will like it because it was given. You needn't worry yourself further." "Sometimes you can just suck the fun right out of a thing, you know?" She was teasing, though there was an element of truth to it. "'Tis true. Or so I have been told." She gave more of a grimace than a smile and finished removing the last of the paper to reveal a very old and weathered looking box. It had been carved from one solid, almost golden, piece of wood, the intricately carved characters along the sides of it spelling out it's meaning in a nearly forgotten tongue. White teeth pressed to dark lips when Morrigan's golden eyes flicked up to find hers, and she could feel the heat on her skin as the blush began. "It's carved from a piece of the Heartwood. It's meant to be a--" "Bosca Gealltanas, yes I've heard of them, though I have never seen one as lovely as this. Not this close." A sharp breath in, and then a question. "This is very old, Elissa, and clearly meaningful to you... are you certain 'tis me you mean to have it?" She nodded, shakily but with no hesitation, things reading clear in her eyes she had no verbal way of saying beyond: "you are important to me, Morrigan. The first person in a long time. If you will have it, then it is (and I am) yours." The witch shifted, pushing to her knees and leaning up against the bed to press her lips to her lover's, whispering as she withdrew: "then I shall treasure it. Always. Now lie back, for there are other gifts I should like to share with you." 

[absolutioninflame]

Satinalia Gift - [for Morrigan]

"It's a gift."  Luminescent golden eyes narrowed at the frustratingly humored man she'd taken as her lover. "'Tis not an entirely foreign concept." "You're supposed to open it." He added, now obviously prodding at her to get a reaction. "Today is--" "Satinalia. Yes. I am aware." She rolled her eyes, continuing to stare at the small humbly-wrapped box in her lap.  "Elissa?" She looked up as if startled. "'Twas one such occasion we marked together, yes." "Does that mean you don't mark it now?" Anders dropped onto the bed beside her, humor shifting with the realization that he might have actually unwittingly stepped on some hidden sentimental trigger. If Morrigan had them, he had no doubt they were tied to her time with the assassin. "No, I..." It wasn't that she didn't, but more that she hadn't. Not before Elissa, and not after. And, like most things she'd believed to be somewhat of a unique occurrence tied only to her failed but fondly remembered romance, it seemed to be resurfacing with the man to whom she'd recently devoted her time.  "If you don't want it..." Anders reached out and then retracted his hand when Morrigan looked primed to bite it off. "Did you hear me say anything of the sort?"  "No, but you're looking at it like it's going to grow arms and brand you, which is rather the opposite of how gift giving is intended to go." He chuckled warmly and dropped back against the headboard of their bed, watching her. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, still not touching the gift. "I have no gift to exchange for this. You gave me no warning." "Giving isn't about getting in return, Morri. Or it shouldn't be." He shrugged. She snorted, having heard almost that exact sentiment from Elissa on their first Satinalia together. With a sigh she began tearing away the simple brown paper to reveal a worn but frighteningly recognizable sized jewelry box. Her eyes flicked up toward Anders, who only smiled wider. "Just open it before you give me that look."  With a frustrated but strangle amicable smile, she did as instructed, pulling back the lid to reveal not a ring but a plain, grey, unimpressive looking stone. To anyone else but perhaps another very old or well-studied mage, the item would remain just that. To a woman like Morrigan, this stone was anything but as mundane as it might seem. "Is this?" Her eyes went wide and flew to his. "It is." He nodded. "Where did you get this?" She drew it out from the box, the warmth of living flesh bringing the light within the gloomy grey to life in a pumping, throbbing, /living/ stream of vibrant violet as it responded to her particular signature. He shrugged cryptically. "I called in a favor from a very old friend." "Indeed." She carefully placed the stone back within it's box, watching the color within it flicker and fade to leave it dull and listless once more.  The concept of forever no longer seemed far out of reach, and as they'd both been forced to face the very tangible fear of his mortality with frightening regularity, Morrigan found herself nearly wrought speechless by the profound meaning behind his gift. Saying nothing she merely shifted in the bed to lie beside him, breathing in the comfortable silence of the space that they shared.

[heartwrencher]

☽ Pride and Practicality :: [ for Morrigan ]

Enough was enough.

The past few months had not been barren of activity for Fenris. For the most part, his attention had been poured into home renovation and money-making both by use of his own talents and in the sale of many items found squirreled away in the home. One painting, in particular, had set him off well enough to pay for a good portion of the initial exterior renovations in one fell swoop.

Part of him felt silly for focusing on such trivial things. Although the logical part of his mind easily argued that maintining the home meant keeping the home and all of its valuables, which despite requiring time and effort on his part was essentially free. He now posessed funds he had not before and they could prove useful in his actions against Danarius.

But the longer he lived as a "free" man in Kirkwall, the more he'd become aware that he was enslaved by far more than the magister's reach. His own illiteracy effected him in more ways than a simple inability to enjoy text. Most electronic devices proved a challenge for him, and they only seemed to be getting more complex. He had no computer; no decent phone. He needed to be able to take advantage of what technology could offer him in terms of securing the freedom he'd worked so hard to pile together, but language had firmly planted itself in the way.

He'd met Morrigan via Zevran near the end of winter. He hadn't lerned much about her, but what he did learn was enough to have him requesting her presence again: she was incredibly capable with computers. If any of his acquaintances knew how to assist him in what he needed, it would be her--if not, perhaps she could point him elsewhere.

If what he needed was even possible.

Now he waited at the fountain in the Hightown Commons for his contact to arrive, a cup of coffee in his hands and a bag full of high-end, recently purchased and largely useless electronic devices at his feet.

[butchers-boy]

Bitter Pill - [Nathaniel and Morrigan]

Urgent. 

A single word. That's all the message that woke him said. Had it been from anyone else, Nathaniel might have ignored it, or responded with a question about what was responsible for such urgency. But the message had come from Anders. The healer didn't ask for help unless he needed it, and he didn't throw around words like urgent unless they were required.

That knowledge got Nathaniel out of his bed after having just barely gotten into it. It had him dressed and moving silently through the city streets at a pace that would make anyone who caught sight of him reconsider getting in his way. Urgent could mean Anders was in danger, and though they were no longer together in the romantic sense, Nathaniel still cared enough for the man that the thought of what sort of danger could breed urgency within the confines of Kirkwall put a chill in his blood and bade him move faster still.

The lantern outside his door was not lit when Nathaniel arrived, adding even more fuel to the fires of his concern. He drew his bow, long past caring how odd the the weapon might appear this time of night... this part of the city. It was his strongest and most accurate weapon, and if Anders needs were urgent, then his strength and accuracy would be required.

"Anders?" The whisper seemed exceptionally loud in the empty walls, and though his silver eyes scanned the room for any signs of another presence, he could find nothing worth noting.