He was quiet. Still dripping.
The lips of his skin around the edges of his bone plates were puckered and pink, soggy from his little trip through the river. At first, he'd been livid with her. He had always been completely, all-consumingly, one-track minded - as he was trained to be - and she put herself in danger by attacking him. She was then the sole obstacle in his path to his target's immediate death. The only thing standing between him and the one thing left on earth that existed to him, protecting Leliana.
There was no way in hell he was going to just stand aside, let the man pass, let him get anywhere fucking near Leliana.
Heartfire knew this about him.
And he knew that's why she'd done it. Why she'd thrown him into the raging river to be swept away so violently. Because there was no other way. He was unstoppable. And she had to. The man would have died swiftly at Dov's hands and Dovev would wake from it to realize what he'd done. How he would've managed to destroy his Leliana yet again. That's who Dovev was. Act now, think later. Destroy those closest to him.
Kill now, regret later.
He would always have a regretful life.
Heartfire rescued a man, and spared Dovev more regret all in one go. She was a busy woman.
The currents forced him down river, further and further away, as she knew it would. The further he got, the less likely he'd be able to follow through in his mission, his one reason for breathing, in a timely fashion. As she knew it would. The further he got, the more he woke from the immediacy of it, the stone-solid urgency. As she knew he would.
So he was silent beside her. And she knew the sniffle in his nose wasn't entirely from sucking in water and choking. And the red in his eyes, the wetness on his cheeks, were not only from the river either. The weariness in his step wasn't from physical exhaustion. He was so damn solid outside, so protected.
And so raw, and bare, and shredded inside.
His lack of fight was his thanks. She probably knew that too. Probably knew that when he dragged himself out of the water, and could only look the way they came with haunted, longing eyes, that he was done. He was so done. And he had her to thank for it. So he went with her willingly, turned back towards Nerine without a word. Took up his place at her side just as he had been on their long trip far away to "find something". Right at her side where she could hate him and distrust him and wake to find him still there anyway.
His manner didn't change until someone came for her. His eyes, though certainly duller, brightened again with renewed fight, the bladed sharpness returning in an instant. He scowled beneath his bone mask and pressed closer to her, possessively, staring the strange-looking man down. She wouldn't even want him to be this way, but he was so good at pissing her off, as they well knew. So he was plenty prepared for rebuke from her, and didn't care if he got it.
we're slaves to any semblance of touch
Lord, we should quit but we love it too much
