let me steal this from you now, leliana

[leliana]

I waited for something, and something died
so I waited for nothing, and nothing arrived

Would she ever learn to live with this?

Would she ever learn to breathe again?

She doesn’t feel like it. Not now.

Her lungs feel too small, her head light from the missing oxygen. Her wings pressed to her side are deceptively serpentine, which is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, she can sometimes trick herself into thinking that it is Vulgaris. She can close her eyes and feel the weight of him, his head draped over her neck, his lips pressed so sweetly to her throat. She can feel the way his heart sounded thrumming in his chest. She can feel the way his pulse slowed when he slept, when his defenses finally lowered and she could spend hours tracing the edges of his sharp face, the discontent and anguish swept away.

But still, these wings are all she has of him and in some strange way, she clings to it. Clings to it even though it is a blade that presses into her belly even as it comforts her. She lets the weight of them wrap around her belly, protecting that which grows within her even now. She lets it hold Adna close at night, giving the girl some protection, some reminder of the father that is coming any day now.

Oh lord, how is she going to tell Adna this?

The thought nearly breaks her, this reminder that she can’t keep up the facade forever, but she is stripped from her own thoughts by the approaching mare. Her breath catches in her throat at the familial resemblance, the serpentine features and alien grace with which Khuma moves. For a second, her face is split open and vulnerable, awash with the agony of the moment, but Leliana quickly pushes it to the side, wiping her expression clean. Something still lurks in the corner of her eyes, bruises that mar the depths of it, but she does her best, crimson lips pulled into a shadow of a smile. “I’m no one’s,” she replies quietly, thinking that it is both an answer to the mare’s question and a reminder of Vulgaris’ rejection.

“My name is Leliana.”

At her sides, her wings shift, turning to unique shade of Khuma’s scales before morphing into the familiar red down of her youth, the feeling alien against her—a reminder of a girl she no longer is.

it's our dearest ally, it's our closest friend
it's our darkest blackout, it's our final end

@[Khuma]