tell me life is beautiful; toli pony

[leliana]

I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

 
It had been easy to drift into sleep—a shallow sleep, but sleep nonetheless.

In it, she had dreamed of Exist, of their mother, of the strange burnt orange man that they had found, one who both looked completely familiar and yet wholly alien to them. She dreamt of the Mountain and how she had pressed her magic into Exist, willing her into life before she had known what it meant to heal. When the gift had been like breathing, the ability rearing up within her chest and exhaling outward, pulling the tendon and nerves together, knitting them back into a piece that was whole and well.

When she woke, it was to the distinct metallic tang of blood.

Her russet eyes fluttered open, still dazed, heart pounding. She felt the weight of him and she startled, but she did not move away. Instead she looked around purposefully for the source of the copper scent. She could feel it on her skin, soaking into her, and although fear fluttered in her chest, she did not show it. Instead, she twisted her head to find the stallion wrapped around her, more intimate than she had ever been with anyone beside the familial comfort with her sister. Still, she did not pull away.

She saw the gaping, weeping wounds around the bone that protruded from him, the angriness of the flesh as it flared open to allow for the unnatural progression of growth. She moaned internally at the sight of it, but instead of showing him her distress she just reached over to press her muzzle gently onto his cheek. “It’s going to be okay,” she reassured him and then closed her eyes, letting the powers of her healing reach out and through him. Her gift rooted through him, searching out the aches and the pains, lighting when it found a spot that it could heal, glowing purposefully as she guided it through him skillfully.

Leliana could not heal everything—could not pull his body back together into its more natural form, but she could at least ease the worst of it. She fought away the infection that brewed, staunched the flow of blood. She knew the wounds would re-open, that the growth of bone and shifting of his body would let loose, but for now, perhaps, he could feel some relief. Could relax with her gift singing through him.

Pleased, she shifted only slightly, enough to loosen her wings so that they could expand, large and white this time and soft as down. She flared them above them and then settled them down over his back, the edges of the feathers staining a dark brown from where the blood had dried. She leaned over again, touching his neck gently before blowing out a breath there. “That should feel better.”

She did not give her name. Instead, she gave only a soft, dreamy smile.

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow