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Minor Edit: March 29th, 2014


Skinny Love

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.


Chapter 8 - Monster of the Sky


Content Fool

Ophelia slowly withdrew her finger from under Morrigan's teary eye and stared at her caringly, "Reconsidering that childish fantasy?"

"I find myself at times wondering what might have become of the girl with the beautiful golden mirror. But such fantasies have no place amidst reality."

"No..." Morrigan murmured, her gaze still on the golden mirror. She then regarded Ophelia firmly in a late effort to convince her. Her thin brows furrowed, desperately stifling the softness that dawdled within her golden irises.

Damn the lulling warmth of the flames that neighbored them. Damn the lingering warmth of the finger that heartened her. And, most of all, damn the enticing warmth of that woman's vibrant diamonds which so invitingly captivated her.

Ophelia matched her steady resolve but stated without inveracity, "It's not too late."

A futile breath escaped Morrigan before she spoke in undertone, "'Tis a fool's dream..."

"A content fool."

Morrigan virtually gasped from the simple yet ingenuous comeback, clutching the mirror tightly against her lap. "You…" biting her lower lip once, she denied it anyway, "Cannot gauge the merit of such idle fantasies." Her head gradually dropped doubtingly, eyelids flickering irrepressibly.

Fuuuuck. She would not bawl her eyes out over such a thing…

"Can't I? I once had a life like that..." Ophelia cupped her visibly flushed face and consoled her with a sincere whisper, "You remind me of her." She smiled preciously and noted, "She had the same dream. I once hoped I could give her that luxury... Younger that I was to her..."

Morrigan's grimace stiffened and her gritted lips quivered marginally, the blonde's soothing words triggering emotions she didn't know she held inside…

How many times did she run away from the Wilds to roam the world of man? How many envious feelings did she bottle up from the sight of rich and happy nobles? How many painful reprimands from Flemeth did she endure the minute she returned home? Could she have really hated her past and current life this much?

Thankfully, when Ophelia's tender lips pressed against hers and their kiss deepened, Morrigan couldn't focus or worry about crying anymore.

[-]

Love is worth pursuing,
Through the burning wreck of a demolished world,
Over mountain kings on thrones of rock,
Through mansions in the clouds,
On a starbeam I have ridden,
Though my love may be forbidden,
A breath of twilight blows,
How the longing grows.

[-]

Somehow Unsurprising

The gloomy morning was nonetheless pleasant for campers who favored its peaceful atmosphere – just as it was for Morrigan. After she finished her preparations for the morning, she paced for Ophelia's tent for a routine checkup. Separating her tent's covers, she darted inside bereft of a warning.

Ophelia acknowledged the foreseen entrance with a glimpse then continued to quietly button her charcoal long sleeves, the first layer of her outfit. She was standing straight, her greaves and boots already modeled.

Morrigan watched her intently by the entryway, her arms crossing in interest. The neat leader strangely took longer than she did. It was because of her meticulous habits, she pondered. When Ophelia finished with her shirt, she grabbed an object from a tiny table.

Morrigan immediately noticed the rosewood ring she gave her – but it was held up by a black string in order to form a necklace. "Why not wear it on your finger?" she queried before Ophelia could put it around her neck.

Ophelia deftly tied it in a small knot without having to look at it and said, "It's safer this way. I can't mistakenly punch too hard and break it."

A dark brow slanted. "You punch? I have never seen you punch," Morrigan identified.

"Heh. You enjoy watching me, don't you?" Ophelia smirked amusingly, to which Morrigan rolled her eyes. Adjusting her collar to comfortably accompany the necklace, she explained, "In any case, this is safer. If my hand were to get chopped off, I may lose it. If it were around my neck, under my armor, I would need to be decapitated first before I lose it."

"What a ludicrous argument," Morrigan gestured an unconcerned hand, "No matter. Wear it however you please. I care not."

"And it's closer to my heart," Ophelia added, a passionate hand on her chest, and she winked with glee.

"Somehow, that is unsurprising..."

[-]

Doubted Level

Wynne had addressed her moralistic codes to Ophelia countless times in their journey. More often than not, they shared the same beliefs and opinions. If the occasion to butt heads presented itself, the rogue had an open mind, easy to absorb, and the senior enchanter was quite lenient, easy to absolve.

The elderly woman was particularly waiting for her turn to be privately spoken to, patiently sitting on her favorite stool. When Ophelia strode to her, Wynne began, "You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?"

Ophelia snatched her own stool and propped her butt on it, "You mean… Morrigan and I?"

Wynne explicated in that wise and soft-spoken voice of hers, "Well, she's hardly discreet. Though I cannot catch her sneaking inside your tent at night, I can decipher the noises..."

"Oh…" Ophelia tucked loose stresses of hair behind her ears, a brief sign of the situation's awkwardness. "Haha. I apologize. I'll try to muffle all of her moans next time. There's this thing that drives her insanely wild and she cannot ignore it…"

Wynne huffed from revolted surprise, "Oh, sweet Maker! Is a little decorum too much to ask?" She inhaled and exhaled severely with her eyes shut for ten seconds then affirmed, "Moving along now…" She redirected her kindhearted yet stern stare towards Ophelia, "I've noticed your blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going. She is a cunning woman, a maleficar. She will use you for her own ends."

"Maybe. The only way to know for sure is to move forward and accept that challenge," Ophelia countered.

"I am telling you what I see, and what my instincts tell me. And even if the feelings you share are genuine, this affair may not be the best thing for either of you," Wynne attempted to dispute, "You are a Grey Warden. You have responsibilities which supercede your personal desires."

"Wynne… I can guarantee you that I can distinguish the moment when I begin to slack." Ophelia coerced with subtle hand movements and an unyielding tone, "There is a time and place for everything. I know my limitations."

Wynne unconfined a coherent riposte, "Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?"

Ophelia sighed but didn't surrender, "First of all, I doubt Morrigan and I are at that level... Second, I won't let our situation come to something as calamitous as... What you speak of."

"Nothing is certain, not in these times. You cannot take anything for granted, I wanted you to be aware of this."

She nodded and reassured, "Morrigan and I can handle whatever comes our way."

"If you insist." Wynne's chin tilted pretentiously for a second, "I have given my advice. Do with it what you will."

[-]

Love is intoxicating,
Like the blue depths of the water,
When the wind speaks,
And echoes cross the waves,
I have sailed rivers of time,
To find you and make you mine,
A breath of twilight blows,
How the feeling inside me grows.

[-]

Repugnant Smell

"OPHELIA!"

Morrigan's blaring call resonated in Ophelia's most profound perceptions, instantly veering her head and body to the witch's rescue. "Morrigan!" she sprinted, dodging the darkspawn pawns that strained to persecute her.

The dark head was squirming upside down, her leg gripped by a grimy tentacle. The repulsive and colossal broodmother swung her uncontrollably in order to incapacitate her under extreme nausea. "Help…" Morrigan could only yelp weakly, eyes scattered on the bloody and fleshy walls.

Ophelia obtained a sudden burst of adrenaline, centering her objective on emasculating the hideous monster by any means. She dexterously planted one foot on each aggressively swaying tentacle, advancing faster to her goal. The broodmother swirled Morrigan to its front, its ugly bald head making a horrendous scrunching face for a frightening sign of regurgitation. Instantaneously, Ophelia vigorously leapt high with a loud cry, her arms arched behind her to deliver a devastating blow. She brutally thrust her twin daggers downwards, impaling the broodmother on its neck before she twisted the sharpened blades and made a scissoring motion – amputating its head off. The darkspawn breeding machine broke down by convulsing its tentacles and short arms for minor seconds, its putrid blood spewing out of its neck in streams.

Morrigan was tossed aside with a light thud against Shale's careful catch when Ophelia skipped down the distasteful valley of wobbly breasts below her and distanced herself from the dead behemoth. Ophelia glanced at Morrigan, Shale, and Oghren, a freshly recruited dwarf, to ascertain their safety then she scrutinized the atrocious display of their hastened victory.

Besides the darkspawn corpses, the fiend's inert tentacles spread across the meaty ground, its head trundled a messy trail of foul crimson sludge, and its fat body bathed in its own carnage; the massive gore surrounding her staining her boots completely.

Ophelia sealed her eyes in silence, catching her breath and replaying the events that occurred minutes ago.

She couldn't comprehend the startling amount of anxiety that shot through her veins as she heard her despairing scream. The last time she had saved her life, she was entirely in control of the situation since the opponent was only a bandit. With this, on the other hand… The latest and nearest comparison would be when she discovered her father on a puddle of his own blood. The split-second she opened the door and saw him – a ton of bricks were bombarded at her. Yet… This was still different... It had barely been half a year since she knew of her – but to hold a sentiment that was almost as intense…

"Something troubling you, my Grey Warden?" Morrigan approached from behind her and forcefully interrupted her introspection, her slender arms snaking around her armored torso and her chin leaning against her exposed neck.

Ophelia was pulled a tad while she declared seriously, "The smell is repugnant."

Morrigan snickered lusciously and teased, "'Twould be worth your deep contemplation..."

[-]

I am the rider of the wind,
The stirrer of the storm,
A hurricane of rage,
In human form,
And now the hour has arrived,
And this vow I renew,
I am a monster of the sky,
And I'm coming after you.

[-]

Binge Drinking

Ophelia eyed Morrigan's attractive back discreetly while the newly crowned King Harrowmont provided his parting acknowledgments for their exceptional assistance. She was so glad that the witch stuck with wearing skimpy shirts despite her exploitive behavior concerning it.

"Have you no desire to discover this Anvil's potential? It is a marvel, a tool of creation. You can rival the Maker himself with this instrument. If you destroy the Anvil, I swear you will regret it."

Morrigan's bitter words rewound inside Ophelia's head while she pretended to listen to Harrowmont's complimentary speech. On their way out of the Deep Roads, she had simply put a finger to her lips and articulated a long 'shhhhhh' sound (that was more annoying than comforting) every time the sorceress whined. Since the moment she finally quit her complaining, Ophelia had not heard a single word from her again.

The sulking mage wanted condolence and she would give it to her…

In perfect time with Harrowmont turning his back, Ophelia cunningly draped a hand underneath Morrigan's pansy purple blouse but over her stomach, and hauled her close. Morrigan flinched and gulped mutedly from the assault. Placing her obsidian lips against the fair-skinned earlobe, Ophelia first breathed licentiously, "Get over it, Morrigan," then she grazed a damp tongue on the side of her neck, starting from the base.

Morrigan shut her eyes and suppressed a moan simultaneously with the tingling sensation, skewing her head faintly upwards.

She snapped back to reality when Oghren's collapsing thump from behind resounded in the stone room and Ophelia swiftly pushed her away as Harrowmont returned his solemn regard for them.

"Oghren? What just happened?" Harrowmont expressed in wonder.

Shale speedily answered, "Must be all the ale. The dwarf drank itself to a binge as soon as we surfaced from the Deep Roads."

[-]

Lasting Journey

Ophelia lounged in a luxurious hot tub, its architecture carved from natural solid rock and its water heated by gingerly channeled lava. Harrowmont was generous in reward and coerced Ophelia to ask for anything she deemed fair. On the spur of the moment, she modestly asked for a hot bath.

Her body was submerged up to her shoulders and she sat contentedly on a well-shaped ledge beneath the water. She leaned her head against the tub's rim and rested her eyes, the dimly lit room and the mildly boiling water subduing her to sleep – until Morrigan stepped into the room. Ophelia could only gawp at her while she gracefully barged in.

The enchantress sashayed with an enticing grin, a towel wrapped around her suggestive and nude form. She ambled at the edge of the tub slightly across of her and made a blasé but dramatic peel of her towel. She ignored Ophelia's ogling eyes as the cloth slithered off of her, then she extended a silky leg and leisurely dipped into the water.

Ophelia swallowed, "You really made that towel's journey down your body last."

Morrigan giggled sensually as she crept closer to the tanned woman. "Oh? Did I?" She quizzed sweetly and braced herself on the ledge where she sat, one hand settling in the narrow space between Ophelia's thighs.

The blonde hummed while their faces drifted closer, their noses a centimeter from touching, "Mmhmm…" She parted her lips to capture her rosy ones but Morrigan recoiled with a devilish mien.

The Witch of the Wilds steadily placed her hands on her shoulders and hastily readjusted her position to straddle the Grey Warden. She loomed over her and traded lustful stares for a few seconds, her dampened lengthy hair clinging to her breasts attractively. Then she eventually sunk down and purred by her ear, "Can you sense how much I want you?"

When Ophelia froze and just blinked dumbly, Morrigan coaxed, "Kiss me."

Ophelia obeyed, their lips meeting for a momentary tight peck, then they widened for a fiery tongue grapple.

Some heartbeats later, Morrigan angled her lips away enough to merely command: "Touch me," then she guided Ophelia's right hand to cup a milky breast, their tongues intertwining once again.

Ophelia felt dizzy from the entrancing activity, the surrounding steam seemingly heightened along with their passions.

Morrigan swayed a little as her hands shuffled from roving behind her back, the nape of her neck, and her cheeks. "Take me," she demanded fleetingly, supervising Ophelia's left hand to swim by her core.

They kissed some more 'til she briefly peeped at her, batting her eyelashes seductively, then added: "Have me."

[-]

Love is unrelenting,
It burns deep,
Like a slumbering earthquake,
On a pillow of flame,
I would burn over a thousand fires,
For the object of my desire,
A breath of twilight blows,
How this need inside me grows.

[-]

Dazzling Bracelet

The silent evening blew a calming breeze on the trees, inducing dangling autumn leaves to drop unto the crimson and gold floor. A Templar and apostate's boots carelessly crunched over the foliage that sprinkled path as they progressed back to their camps, finished with the little errand that they were assigned.

"You know… I'm glad you've toned your–err–meanness down a notch," Alistair finally blurted out, not necessarily looking at the woman behind him.

"Are you seriously talking to me?" Morrigan apathetically replied.

"Yes. I'm hardly terrified to tackle anything now. Haven't you noticed?" he raised a finger up to point out, "Ophelia calls it… Character building. I truly feel like a strengthened man. I'll be a bloody tyrant once she's done with me. Haha. Since she's hardly finished."

Morrigan responded earnestly, her eyes counting the stars, "Not a surprise. There's a plethora of deficiencies to work on. And some flaws cannot be mended, such as your striking resemblance to a toadstool, for instance."

"Hey... That's cutting it close. But I still think you've improved a bit..." Alistair solemnly remarked, "We all have, one way or another…" a small number of steps later, he supplemented, "She's a great leader."

With that aside, they returned to their peaceful voyage. They viewed the ground as the night air caused the leaves to playfully tumble into each other.

But then an owl's hoot echoed in the woods and Alistair brusquely announced, "Oh! I need to go."

"What?" Morrigan questioned in irritation, shocked that he 'needed to go.' Couldn't he hold it in?

"Nature calls, I need to go," he glimpsed at her a concluding time then jogged into the shadows of the forest.

Morrigan snarled tetchily, "What are you – seven years old?" Unable to receive a reaction, she scoffed to herself then folded her arms and leaned on her rearmost foot in an exasperated exertion to wait. Possible tyrant? For her, he would always be a foolish and immature boy.

"By the Maker!" Alistair yelled somewhere in the darkness – metals clinking and rowdy beating sounds mixed with grunts and groans could be discerned.

She shouted in astonishment, "Alistair!" then she hurriedly dashed for him, "FOOL!" How the fuck could he get in trouble taking a stupid piss?

Upon reaching a few yards inside, she swerved her head around to search for him. Trees. Trees. More despicable trees! Following the sounds and smell instead, she had shapeshifted into a spider and distinguished his location.

He was raucously fighting against three masked bandits who appeared like amateurs by the way they struggled to beat him. When one of them lunged after him and brought him down, she copied the action and lunged after the thug, all eight of her legs pinning him down.

The bandit frantically squealed when she lowered her spider head to chew on him, "NO! NO! DON'T EAT ME!"

Motherfuck… That voice…

"Huh––?" Morrigan transformed back into her human form, totally appalled, "Ophelia?"

The boisterous clamor ended when Morrigan christened her name and Zevran removed his disguise. "Ha–ha! Our plan worked flawlessly!" he hit the other 'bandit's' hand for a high-five.

"Hehe. Yea!" It was Leliana… And she lent a hand for Alistair, "I knew she would come after you."

"Don't you guys think you got a little carried away? You didn't have to butcher me!" Alistair complained as he got on his feet, "I'm gonna have bruises after this…"

"You weren't screaming loud enough. We had to make it sound convincing," the bard chuckled.

Ophelia slipped her mask off and observed Morrigan cutely, "Hi Morrigan. You're looking extra beautiful this evening." Recognizing the other woman's heaving chest and contorting expression, she pleaded, "Please don't kill me?"

"You–!" Morrigan sneered under absolute scorn, "Why you–––!"

SLAP!

"OWW!" Ophelia cried when Morrigan's palm connected with her face. She attempted to reason while the witch pounded her away.

"Morrigan!" A backhand.

"Please no!" A double smack.

"Alistair was the mastermind of all this! He wanted to get back at you badly!"

Morrigan paused, gripping the neckline of her shirt sorely upwards, "Do you take me for a fool?" Then she stretched an arm high up, "Alistair is not that wily!"

SLAP––––––!

Elsewhere, Wynne stirred a pot, laughing inwardly at the distinct shrieks of their fearless leader.

"What are you doing?"

"NO!"

"I have a dazzling bracelet waiting for you at camp!"

"OH DEAR GOD NO!"

"What are you three giggling at?"

"HELP ME! HELP!"

[-]

Impressive Résumé

Ophelia marched to her tent, her boots clicking in a unique pace. Prior to their grand supper and game of cards, Morrigan had implied a desire to speak privately with her. Spotting the studious mage on a mat by their small campfire, she advanced noiselessly.

Ophelia delicately hunkered down by Morrigan, who concentrated on reading the black grimoire. She initiated the imminent conversation resolutely, "So… Found something you wish to share?"

Morrigan answered with a light hesitance, eyes glued to the tome, "'Tis… Not what I expected. I had hoped for a collection of her spells, a map of the power that she commands. But this is not it." Then she surveyed her, face stained with trepidation…

And conflict. Ophelia guessed, "Yet you look disturbed."

"Disturbed? Yes, perhaps that is the right word. One thing in particular within her writings disturbs me," Morrigan flipped the book and traced at a foreign writing with her finger, "Here, in great detail, Flemeth explains the means by which she has survived for centuries."

"A spell of immortality?"

"If only 'twere so," she inhaled sharply then she proclaimed comprehensively, glimpsing at the attentive Warden, "Flemeth has raised many daughters over her long lifetime. There are stories of these many Witches of the Wilds throughout Chasind legend, yet I have never seen a one and always wondered why not. And now I know. They are all Flemeth. When her body becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter. And when the time is right, she takes her daughter's body for her own."

Ophelia loosened her posture on the mat, sprawling her legs out, "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

Morrigan continued in an enlightening tone, "Once, Flemeth was a mage. This was before the time of the Circle of Magi, but she wielded magical power of the same sort that all the ancient shamans did. 'Twas no different. She summoned a demon and made it part of her, and became an abomination. One that was thrived. Whether Flemeth has always been the demon, or mastered it, or they are one… I truly do not know. No matter what she is, her body still ages and will not sustain her forever. So she must find new bodies. I… Am to be the next new body, in a very long line."

Merging with a demon… "So is Flemeth immortal or not?"

"Whatever spark of the demon that made her what she is remains within her keeps her from dying of old age. But her body deteriorates. Eventually she would be so wizened as to be senseless and immobile. So she must seek a new body, a fresh body, and start the cycle anew."

Ophelia cocked her head to a side, "Can this body be anyone? Or it must be a daughter?"

"I am… Uncertain. According to her writings, certain hosts are better than others. The more a host is prepared, the quicker the transition will be." Morrigan abruptly detracted her gaze in distress, her speech diminutively shaky, "I am… Sorry. This simply takes me by surprise. I would have thought I would have had some inkling… Some notion…"

Ophelia laid a hand on her shoulder in an effort to appease her, "You really had no idea?"

"Flemeth is capable of many things. I was a fool not to suspect her capable of using me for her own self-preservation."

"So why would she risk sending you with me?"

"I do not know. Perhaps 'tis as she said: the darkspawn threaten her as much as they threaten anyone else. Or perhaps she believes that this journey will make me more powerful." Morrigan elaborated further while she fiddled with a page, "According to the tome, if the… Host… Is already powerful and trained in magic, it takes far less time for Flemeth to… Settle in."

"So if you died she would have another daughter?"

"Not by any natural means. Perhaps I would take this as a vote of confidence from her on my capabilities? Or perhaps she simply wished me gone from the Korcari Wilds so she could prepare her ritual in peace. A disturbing thought."

Ophelia bolted upright and decisively beheld her, "Are you certain about this?"

Morrigan bobbed her head, "Indeed. That is primarily what this tome details. The various daughters that Flemeth has… Acquired. Their preparation and training," then she shook her head from disbelief, "I recognize all of it. I… Am to be her next host. This is my purpose."

"And you had no idea? I'm so sorry," Ophelia rubbed at her back affectionately.

"Do not be sorry. I am not. I am angry." Morrigan scowled as she arrived at a conclusion, "There is only one possible response to this: Flemeth needs to die. I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled. Flemeth must be slain and I need your help to do it."

Ophelia detached her hand, skeptical, "Kill Flemeth? Isn't that a little extreme?"

"It may seem so, if you think of Flemeth as a mother. Think of her, instead, as an ancient abomination that intends to use her own flesh and blood to extend her life beyond all natural limits." Morrigan persuaded, yellow cat eyes soliciting determinedly for sympathy, "She did not wish anyone to get ahold of this information, least of all me. Now I have. If I do not act on what I know, then more the fool am I."

"Perhaps you should talk to her about it first?"

"And what would that do? At best I would receive pointless reassurances. At worst, Flemeth would imprison me once she became aware I know what I do. I know my mother well enough to be confident she would show no mercy when it came to her own survival. I must do the same."

"Not to be appalling, but…" Ophelia scratched at her neck for the diffident transition, "Why… Would you need my help?"

"Because if she is slain while I am near, I am not certain that she will not simply be able to take possession of me right there. So obviously I cannot be the one to do it." Morrigan exhaled heavily to gather her courage then she twisted her upper body and caressed the rogue's face lovingly, whispering her appeal, "I trust you… You can do this. Please..."

Ophelia dallied wordlessly, searching in the glimmering stars for a solution. She deliberated intensely… Kill Flemeth? It was a crazy idea. Absurd. Outrageous. Suicidal. But if it meant that Morrigan would be safe from her… She had been willing to take dangerous risks for innumerable others she personally did not know of and so she would be willing to take this risk for her… Besides… Well… It would fill an impressive spot in her résumé... "Okay. I'll help you, if I can," she faced Morrigan, assuring her with a determined countenance.

Morrigan smiled faintly then she specified, "Then what needs to be done is for you to go back to Flemeth's hut in the Korcari Wilds… Without me. Confront her and slay her quickly. I doubt she would truly be dead even then, but it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power… If that is even possible. The thing I must have is her true grimoire. With it I can defend against her power in the future. Everything else in her hut is yours."

Ophelia sighed, "I'll see what I can do." She couldn't convey more as Morrigan inched closer and trapped her in a fervent kiss.

A minute later, Morrigan broke away and expressed her utmost gratitude, "I am grateful. The sooner this can be done, the sooner it will set my mind at ease."

Ophelia nodded to accept her thanks then she reclaimed her mouth and stuck with her decision, for now…

But why would Flemeth need to write about the process if the procedure was as gravely confidential to herself as it was?

[-]

I am the rider of the wind,
The stirrer of the storm,
A hurricane of rage,
In human form,
And now the hour has arrived,
And this vow I renew,
I am a monster of the sky,
And I'm coming after you.


Song

"Monster of the Sky" by Stereo Alchemy


Feedback for Bernal Heights

Andy Lewis: Thanks! And I'm trying. D:

Silentragnarok: Thank you so much! But... I'm a girl. XD Glad you're liking the music. From here on out, they'll be mostly darker themed.

Moral Attention: Thanks! Glad the Morrigan and Leliana banter was good for you! I'm so relieved. XD

whiskered oranges: As long as you review before I post the next chapter, you're awesome. :D I am so happy their interaction was believable for you. That makes me feel like a writer with a really good grasp of their characters. Lol. And you should know... Wynne and Zevran do have a banter about her bosom in the game. I won't spoil it for you but it's pretty fokin' funny. Try YouTube if you don't have a save. Thanks for all the compliments. And also, how do you like the song for this one? There will be more songs like this one.

Only four reviews for the last chapter? Aww... Give me more! ; 3;


A/N: I tried a new... Structure? Sorry if it seems like things were rushed. It's supposed to have a faster pace for this chapter with only brief highlights of their relationship... But I might add some more things in the future if this isn't adequate.

I will edit this a bit and try to update again before the duration of a week.

Huhuhu... Review please.

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

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