He could nearly sense her. He didn't have any other explanation for the way he'd slipped away from his children. Now he stood watching her from the shore, those familiar crimson-dipped legs settled in the water. Something had happened. He knew it even before seeing the wound, the bruises in her eyes.
It was not like her to be so isolated away when there were sick nearby. So still and hollow.
Leliana.
After watching for what seemed like a small eternity, he made his way to her. His feet pressed crescents into the sand, lining an unwavering path to her until his prints vanished with hers and joined her in the water. The trickle of the lazy tide was the only sound he heard above her breathing as it scrubbed away dried blood on his legs. Fresh blood slipped away with it unnoticed, the salt stinging comfortably in his permanent wounds.
He didn't say a thing, only hovered his nose near her hip, leaving space between them as he followed her spine. Too thin again. Why? Her coat was dull, her hair thin. She wreaked of her husband and he hated it. His mouth twisted with disgust before he smoothed it away, tucked it down deep where she didn't have to see how he hated her life. How he hated her happiness.
She wasn't happy now, though.
She wasn't healthy.
When the salt of the sea could no longer hide her injuries from him he hissed and jerked back, scrutinizing them sharply as an instant rage welled up inside him, burning brightly in his dark stare. His teeth clenched tight, jaw muscles pulsing, and his black eyes flew to her face. What the fuck was this? Why was she hurt and not healing it? Just like when Zoryn had--
Why the fuck are those from fangs like her husband wears?
He stared in her face and waited for an explanation, his legs trembling with the need to rip someone apart. He should've been there to protect her.
we're slaves to any semblance of touch
Lord, we should quit but we love it too much
