I'm not here to say I'm sorry; Leliana

[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

He is rough and skittish—the way of wild animals with large eyes and fear in their hearts. She recognizes that in him and she responds accordingly. The way she would react if she found a wounded deer or a wolf with an arrow in his heart. She remains still, the edges of her calming, her breath going deep and slow, hazel eyes watching him carefully but not pointedly, softening so that her focus grows hazy and soft.

It is a distraction, and she is grateful for it. As with all distractions nowadays, she pours herself into it wholeheartedly, abandoning the pain, the memories, in the back of her mind, turning instead toward this creature who she believes needs her help. Her fingers skim over the edge of her gift absentmindedly, but she doesn’t grasp it just yet; the healing he needed was not the kind she could provide so easily.

There were no bruises to soothe. No wounds to staunch.

When he gives her his name (nay, throws it—tosses it on the ground at her feet), she picks it up and dusts it off, holding it to her chest carefully. “Rhonen,” she repeats quietly, letting the syllables grow familiar on her tongue, her attention gravitating toward him. Part of her wants to ask more, but she remains quiet for a few more moments, the wings at her side taking up the color of his coat, matching the rich copper.

She doesn’t notice though and instead just tilts her head to consider him. When he tips his head back to look at the branches she follows suit, lifting her chin and revealing the elegant curve of her throat. For a moment she imagines she can see the stars twinkle through them, but that was of course impossible; not when the rain was coming down as heavily as it was. Finally, her voice of fog breaks the silence.

“Nights like this feel like a secret to be shared.”

She drops her head and gives him a shy, kind smile.

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