mewsbawks | Reunion for fightingale

[Elissa was tired. Not just the regular tired that happens after a whole day of riding, but the deep, exhausted ache you can feel in your very bones. She felt like one of the corpses that had risen in Redcliffe all those years ago; moving with no thought, just shambling on and on thanks to pure instinct.

Her journey had been long. Her journey had been rough. Her journey was still incomplete, but it was progressing. She was at a stage where she could only wait now, as some of her new friends testing a few of the theories they had managed to piece together on her travels through the western lands beyond Thedas.

Friends... that sent an ache through her almost as intense as her exhaustion. She had spent most of this journey alone, and it was in these times that she missed the nights spent by a merrily glowing fire, repairing her armor with Sten and Alistair, or sharing reading material with Wynne. She missed listening to Morrigan talk about magic, and talking to Zevran about his adventures in Antiva. She missed Oghren's drunken antics, and Shale's deadpan criticism of everything they did.

She missed Leliana.

The thought of her lover - of everything that had happened to her in their time apart - sent a sharp pain through her chest. A pain worse than the Joining, worse than when she had struck the final blow against the Archdemon. It was like the separation was killing her as surely as the Blight inside of her was.

This, at least, was something that Elissa knew she could remedy.

After her correspondence with Inquisitor Trevelyan, she'd held out only a few more days before she made the preparations. She recalled her fastest runners, her quickest birds, for the express purpose of contacting her if something should happen while she was gone. Then she had hurriedly packed her supplies and meager possessions, saddled up a horse, and headed out.

That's how Elissa got here now. Before her, the great castle of Skyhold loomed tall, nearly blotting out the sun with how close she was. Even outside its walls, she could hear the hustle and bustle of the soldiers and servants and countless others, and it wasn't long before a party was opening the gates and coming out to greet her. Most didn't recognize her, but some did - and as per her request and the Inquisitor's orders, they said nothing. Elissa... she wanted this to be a surprise for Leliana. From what the Inquisitor had told her in her letters, the bard had been in a terribly dark place as of late, and so she wanted to do something good for her. A surprise that didn't end in heartbreak, she hoped.

She didn't really have a chance to wash herself up, but she was able to at least wipe off the dust and grime from her armor before she strode into Skyhold's great hall. Now let's see, which way to go....]

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( With how tense Elissa is, Leliana has only a sip of her wine before setting it down. Her love seems as a string wound too tight, like to snap if she is pushed any farther. Leliana takes one of her hands, holding loosely at the wrist, working loose the gauntlet. Some contact, actual contact seems entirely necessary, although she looks up sharply from the task when Elissa says that she loves her. It isn't-- she does not falter from her task, because the Left Hand does not falter, must always hold tight to reason and carry things on.

She keeps on working away the gauntlet until she has one of Elissa's hands free, can trace the pads of her fingers over her knuckles. They are mapped in her memory, even with those changes the years have inevitably brought. And while, in the past, her expression might have shuttered with the mention of her confessions and Marjolaine's efforts to slander her, for now her gaze is focused on only one thing.

Elissa may be convinced, and she may even be right. It seems to much to hope for, and yet-- hope has been what has carried her on for so long, is it not? Hope has not lead her astray or verged on destroying her, as other things might. Her hand squeezes Elissa's, and she'd move closer if she had not managed to draw closer by inches over the course of all Elissa's words. )

And I had thought that bards were the ones who were meant to be so gifted with words.

( Softly, too genuine to be mocking either of them, as she reaches out to push Elissa's hair out of her face. She did not deserve someone so good as the Hero of Ferelden, but then, she doubted anyone ever could deserve her. And frankly, after those words and far too long a period of separation, with her hand holding Elissa's, holding back from her at all feels impossible, absurd. But she still will ask, because of... everything they have shared, because she adores her too much not to, even if she leans forward to kiss her before she thinks to hang back-- ) Elissa, if you've no objection, I'd like to kiss you. Properly.

[It's been so long, so damn long, since Elissa's had any contact like this. It isn't to say that human contact in general was now an alien concept to her; handshakes were still things, or claps on the back for a battle well fought or a job well done. But this... so tender, so intimate...

She almost wants to cry. But she can't. Not right this moment. She just needs to focus on Leliana right now. So she leans forward - not to kiss her, because she still wants all of this to be in her lover's control - but to press their foreheads together in a light, affectionate gesture.]

I've never objected to it before. I wouldn't dare start now.

( The exhale of breath as Elissa leans against her, rests her forehead against Leliana's own, could be called shaky. It is not something she would allow herself in any other company but this. Wynne saw her sobbing, once, in the Deep Roads after their encounter with the Brood Mother, and Zevran made her want to stomp her feet like a petulant child with his teasing, just as Morrigan made her face fall more than once with a withering comment. That was a different time. She does not doubt that she would have some greater measure of flexibility with each of their old companions, but none of them would see her as Elissa does.

Leliana's mouth quirks in a slight smile, even as her eyes have slipped shut. ) Not if you know what's good for you.

( Admittedly, coming from a spymaster and assassin, that is a more alarming jest than it would be from most others. She is rather counting on how well Elissa knows her, however, on how any hint of severity (humorous as it is) is washed out by the softness in her voice, and her thumb brushing over her love's cheekbone. She feels like she could be content with just this, in only this, and would need no more - but she feels, equally, that this is nowhere near enough, not will all the time between them, time lost.

Leliana lingers a moment, before she finally (finally) lets her lips graze against Elissa's - light, careful - as her left hand settles at the small of Elissa's back. )

[If Elissa had been anyone else, maybe she would've been at least slightly nervous. But after that heartfelt speech, there's no way the warden could even think of taking the jest seriously. All it really does is bring to mind how huffy Leliana would get at some of Elissa's attempts at flirting. She even nearly laughs, but the sound is quickly cut off by the kiss - the wonderful if brief kiss - that she had been waiting years for.

Kissing Leliana always made Elissa feel more self-aware than she normally was. She's very aware that her lips are chapped and her hands are rough, and maybe she would have worried a bit about it at once, but now? She doesn't care. They could be caked head to toe in darkspawn blood and she wouldn't care!

So she doesn't hold back, barely letting Leliana recover from that brief peck before she leans in, mouth pressed firmly and fully against the spymaster's. It's a little rough, and their noses bump together a bit, but it's still damn near perfect.

If being in Leliana's arms made her feel like she was home, then kissing LEliana made her feel like she was ascending to the side of the Maker Himself.]

Reunion for fightingale

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OH MY GOD I ACCIDENTALLY ARCHIVED THIS i am so so sorry

NO PROBLEM BB WE GOOD