so long, my luckless romance; any

[leliana]

goodbye, my almost lover
goodbye, my hopeless dream --

Leliana was so tired of feeling empty—of feeling sorrow.

She was young, but heartache had become a constant companion, carving out space in her chest so that when she woke in the middle of the night, it was with short gasps, the monsters of her dreams still lurking in the shadows of the land. Sleep came to her less and less, even when she curled into the warmth of her sister, and more and more, she found herself wandering away from Tephra at night, trying to find a place where she could find peace. A place where she was not haunted by his face, by constant memories.

It was nearly impossible now, his scent ghosting across the land. Sometimes alone, sometimes intertwined with the scent of others. She never went looking for it, never trusted herself to face it. So she lied. She told herself that it wasn’t him, that she was mistaken, that she couldn’t possibly know. But there, in the deepest pits of her belly, she knew. She turned her face from the truths, but they still rooted there, bare and ugly and crawling up her throat to strangle her. She was not enough—had never been enough.

She dreamt of him. Of Zoryn. Of his daughter’s face when she had found them.

She dreamt of Magnus’ rage.

She dreamt of his back, for it seemed to be the thing she saw most of all.

But such dreams did not come to her tonight and instead she found herself in the forest, purposefully avoiding the places where she had been with him before. The land was quiet and she was glad for it, her wings twisting by her side and then turning into a deep forest green, the feathers lined with gold. They ruffled, as restless as she, and then settled, tucked in tight to the dappled mahogany of her coat. 

When she came to a small clearing, she paused, her lovely face frowning as she stared down at the thick coverage of needles. She wasn’t sure who she was anymore, and while part of her wanted to figured that out, right now she was so incredibly tired. So she sank to her knees and closed her eyes.

Praying for rest—for sleep, for unending darkness.

leliana