that "“You can’t love someone unless you love yourself first” Bullshit. I have never loved myself. But you. Oh god, I loved you so much that I forgot what hating myself felt like.” quote makes me think of Valens and I kinda wanna draw something to it
For the OC meme: My blood mage OC Valerian is a hemophiliac.
Valens, despite relying heavily on blood magic, is terrified of being possessed. He’s afraid he may already be, since he has only vague memories of the night he first used it.
Valens is totally a Gryffindor. Not sure on the material, maybe ash, but the core would be dragon heartstring. Patronus is a kangaroo. Also, he was a quidditch chaser until a particularly rowdy game that resulted in his crashing into the audience. It scarred his face and broke his arm. Afterwards he was happy to take the role of keeper. I see him enjoying and being amazing at ancient runes. He probably likes charms too.
The docks were crowded, as they often were this time of the week; many businesses needed restocking and Gemma’s was no different. Her orders ranging from spirits to clothing to things her employees wanted to give a try. And who was she to say no if it made them happy?
Either way, it was a normal day, their supplies in the same location they always were. And Reg accompanying her to carry the crates she couldn’t push on the cart.
Normal.
At least until she stumbles and nearly falls over an elf taking a nap between a couple of crates.
"Alright, kid, nap time’s over." Gemma gives his foot a light nudge with her own when he doesn’t respond. Sighing in frustration, because Stone only knows why the drunks pick her supplies to sleep on, she’ll never know, she kneels to smack his cheek. Usually did the trick. But she stops short and grabs his chin instead, to get a better look at the puffy red line on his nose.
That one line turned into four. As if an animal mauled his face and the infection left the dwarf feeling sick to her stomach. It took at least a week for a wound to fester like that and if he’d stowed away on a ship, it might’ve been even longer. That would explain the fever too.
"Shit. Reg, I need you to run back and have the girls clean out that back room. Tell Ayla to fetch a healer, she knows the one, and bring him here."
The qunari hesitates, trying to see over his boss’ shoulder,” Is he dead?”
"Not yet, but keep standing there and he will!"
That got him moving, a few long strides and he disappeared around the corner. She turned her attention back to the elf; he couldn’t be more than seventeen. Young, too young. Probably a runaway slave from Tevinter. Wouldn’t be the first she’s seen on the docks, wouldn’t be the last, but they normally didn’t look like they picked a fight with a bear.
What she doesn’t understand is…sure, the marks on his face are in bad shape but the poor kid looks near death.
A thought strikes her and she pulls the purple scarf down from his chin. Gemma covers her mouth at the sight, two festered slashes from the sides of his throat to the center. Ugly, deep, and—how in the hell was he still alive? Let alone last long enough to make it to a ship that was Antiva bound!
She doesn’t have long to think over the possibilities when the elf grabs the hand holding his scarf. It startles her but he’s too weak to do much more than that. He’s barely able to open his right eye because of the swelling, but there’s a fear that runs so deep in them that it breaks her heart.
"Please," is all he manages to croak out before his face twists in pain.
When he reaches for the wounds on his neck, the dwarf stops him.
"Leave ‘em be, you’ll just make it worse and you really can’t afford that." He keeps hold of her and she can feel him starting to shake. "You’re alright. Everything’s gonna be okay, just relax and we’ll get you fixed up."
It doesn’t look like he’s willing to believe her at first but, eventually, his hands falls to his lap. He lets her touch his face and even leans into it, her skin ice in comparison.
A silence falls between them and Gemma thinks he’s fallen asleep, until he clears his throat. And it’s obvious that that alone takes a great deal out of him.
He his lips, something he instantly regrets but ignores in favor of asking,” Where?”
"Antiva, sweetheart, you’re in Antiva City."
If he wasn’t in such bad shape, Gemma would’ve hugged the kid until he couldn’t breathe. Instead, she settles for stroking his hair, pushing it back, and pressing her cold hands to his uninjured cheek. Anything to keep from seeing him break down, tears filling his eyes and chin trembling. Ancestors help her, if she wasn’t already hurting for him, the pained sob that leaves him would’ve done the job.
And it’s as he’s calming down, exhaustion seeing in, and Ayla rounding the corner with Reg and the healer, that Gemma decides. If Antiva isn’t where he wanted to be, that she’d make sure he got to his destination, one way or another. No matter the story behind the scars.
