I fear that you were always our Inquisitor, Lavellan. We were simply waiting for you to take the mantle. The title of Herald was nothing more than a prelude to your story.
[ He had asked her, once, what kind of hero she intended to be and they had gazed out at the landscape together; he had seen her perform great things, do incredible things, the type of acts that would be written in stories and passed down to be believed as myth in a thousand years time (and, oh, he knew far too much about how stories could be ruined by mythology). He had seen her rise up to a challenge she had never intended to take and he was fascinated by it, by her. She had changed his entire world.
It makes their situation all the more painful.
He knows he should turn from her, he should shrug his shoulders and take a step back, but it is impossible. His cowardice twists at the base of his spine and he can do little more than let his eyes close, to enjoy how close she is and how real she feels, her skin touching his. This is no aspect of the Fade, no faux-dream; she is real and standing before him, unchanged by the words that he had once used to break both their hearts. He had chosen himself over her, after all, and the selfishness is biting - even as he takes pride in it. ]
You ask me for stories so very often. It seems only fitting that I allow you to be the centre of attention for now.
[ She leans up, enough to give him deja vu, a sense of nostalgia, and it reminds him so sharply of that moment on the balcony when he had given in to her that his breath catches and he has to shake his head. She is so incredible, even now, that the slightest touch draws him closer to her. She is a beacon, a light in the darkness, and he is drawn to her.
He still wishes it were so easy, to give into her light. To pretend he is something he is not. ]
Do you not fear there are more pressing matters? [ His eyebrow lifts, barely, tilting his head as he leans forward. ] An investigation of our company, if our fellows are here, if we can trust the people that have brought us here... [ He shakes his head even as he leans down closer to her; they're almost too close, enough that he feels that he might burn from it. ] Though, I admit, the idea of running away with you is quite tempting.
[ He ignores the pang her words give him. We can do it together, she had told him, even as he backed away and shook his head, turned from her and spurned her. No, he must be alone. ]
no subject
[ He had asked her, once, what kind of hero she intended to be and they had gazed out at the landscape together; he had seen her perform great things, do incredible things, the type of acts that would be written in stories and passed down to be believed as myth in a thousand years time (and, oh, he knew far too much about how stories could be ruined by mythology). He had seen her rise up to a challenge she had never intended to take and he was fascinated by it, by her. She had changed his entire world.
It makes their situation all the more painful.
He knows he should turn from her, he should shrug his shoulders and take a step back, but it is impossible. His cowardice twists at the base of his spine and he can do little more than let his eyes close, to enjoy how close she is and how real she feels, her skin touching his. This is no aspect of the Fade, no faux-dream; she is real and standing before him, unchanged by the words that he had once used to break both their hearts. He had chosen himself over her, after all, and the selfishness is biting - even as he takes pride in it. ]
You ask me for stories so very often. It seems only fitting that I allow you to be the centre of attention for now.
[ She leans up, enough to give him deja vu, a sense of nostalgia, and it reminds him so sharply of that moment on the balcony when he had given in to her that his breath catches and he has to shake his head. She is so incredible, even now, that the slightest touch draws him closer to her. She is a beacon, a light in the darkness, and he is drawn to her.
He still wishes it were so easy, to give into her light. To pretend he is something he is not. ]
Do you not fear there are more pressing matters? [ His eyebrow lifts, barely, tilting his head as he leans forward. ] An investigation of our company, if our fellows are here, if we can trust the people that have brought us here... [ He shakes his head even as he leans down closer to her; they're almost too close, enough that he feels that he might burn from it. ] Though, I admit, the idea of running away with you is quite tempting.
[ He ignores the pang her words give him. We can do it together, she had told him, even as he backed away and shook his head, turned from her and spurned her. No, he must be alone. ]