Number TWO! Be prepared for a quick about face in the tone set previously.
This is Kara Tabris. Now, I realize that some are going to ask me, "Basil, why didn't you just keep the default names?" Answer being, "because I thought they sounded slightly daft."
Hem; now, because I'm a forgetful sort, I neglected to thank someone who is very important in this area of fandom. Thank you, Hatsepsut, for reading over these two shots at literature, and then giving me your opinion. Hopefully it's really what you think, and not you being a sweetheart, which I know you are. Prosperity and longevity be yours.
All disclaimers and invitations previously stated apply.
Two for Flinching
Kara stood still and silent, staring off into nothing; her fellow Wardens and other traveling companions were gathering themselves from their latest skirmish with a stray band of Darkspawn. She herself had already dried her blades, and was lost in her own memories. Her eyes closed against the voices of her fellow elves as they begged for mercy and a savior. She flinched away from the image, burned into her retinas, of her husband struck down by a sneering noble-mans brat. Bawdy laughter, tearing hands, gripping hands; on her thighs, on her shoulder-
"Kara?"
It was only Alistair's quickened reflexes and his armor that saved his hand from departure. She yowled like a cat on fire, and executed a quick spinning draw, her knives sparking off of his plate. Alistair stumbled back, dumbfounded by her bared teeth and animal snarl. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at the scene. "What was that?" He shouted, clutching his hand to his chest.
Kara shifted backwards, away from the perceived threat. "What do you want?" She demanded. After a moment of the young man just watching her like a caged beast, she shrieked at him: "What!"
Alistair flinched back, before answering in the breathless tone of one caught off guard. "I was just checking on you, to see if you were all right." He seemed to pull himself together, drawing himself up. "Why'd you try to stab me, I didn't even hurt you!"
She closed herself off against another rush of fear-tainted memories with a full-bodied shudder, and carefully put her weapons away. Everyone watched as she focused herself, her eyes dark with secrets and pain. "Don't touch me," she whispered. "Never touch me."
She whirled on her heel and marched on.
So short, so dark. Thoughts, ideas?