it's still my heart to sell; dovev

[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

The loss of him, the sudden departure, left her aching. She watched him with wide amber eyes, face framed by the curtain of red as he stood and walked to the doorway, barely illuminated by the silver of moonlight. She rose to her feet, and although uncertainty sprang from deep within her, she followed him. Wings shifted to her preferred form, the red down matching the rest of her, the softness of them comforting in the absence of him. How could she miss something she barely had?

When she reached his side, she felt the coolness of him in the space, the fire dampened, lost. “Dovev,” she said his name again, the plea in her voice apparent. She ignored her fear and pressed into him, her mouth resting on the hollows of his neck, finding the flesh still warm beneath the wicked curve of bone.

“I didn’t come here for just that,” she corrected herself, but she had to wonder if it was too late. If she had already done the damage, drove him away. To emphasize her point, her lips traced his skin, finding the strength of his jaw and resting there, moving to the edges of his face, tasting softly. Not with the same intensity, but with the same desire beneath the surface, the same unsated curiosity. The need.

“Don’t leave me,” she pled, trying to pull him back, usher him out from his shield. “Please.” She continued to press soft kisses into his neck, his jaw. Entire valleys had been carved within her chest. She could feel the way they opened up, his presence having settled within her. If she could, she would claw at her chest from the pain, the sudden, gaping lack of him so clear, even though he stood right next to her.

A single tear slid down her dark cheek as she curved her neck and let her lips rest against his shoulder. “Come back to me, Dovev.” Part of her, part of her that she desperately wanted to ignore, flared in her belly; the hurt surprising  and sudden. Had he only be interested in her when she lay on the ground? Had he only wanted a warm body? Was she just a stand-in for the night?

Bruised eyes found his, and she shook slightly, tremors racing down her spine. “Is this all you want from me?” She motioned back to the ground where they had lay, a frown creasing her lovely brow. More words formed in her throat, but they died on her tongue, and she pressed her lips together, pulling her wings tighter around herself as she stood hurt, alone, confused. And vulnerable. So incredibly vulnerable.

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