ff is screwing me around and I'm tired of their shit, so I'm officially posting on deviant art now.
You can find me under raven-jadewolfe
I don't own.
"You can't be leaving already," Alistair fusses as Lynx swings into the saddle ahead of her assassin, "You just got home three days ago! And I know you're still mad at me!"
The hedge mage peers down at the cranky Warden Commander, "I'm not letting my husband run off without me again Alis. Besides, I've sent word to Aja and Kieran, they are sending people to Amaranthine to help take care of the problem, if there is one. I have to go to make sure that those Orlesians don't get themselves killed on Chaisnd blades. And no, I'm not mad at you anymore, you idiot. I have to do this Alistair, Zevran needs me and I need him, you have to understand that."
"Dammit Lynx," even in full plate, his shoulders noticeably droop as the Templar accepts defeat, "Alright, go if you must. But you will keep regular contact this time around or I will come after you personally. I will track you down and make you kick my ass if I don't hear from you inside of a month. Got it?"
"Crystal clear," she gives her brother a solemn nod before tugging her hood up. After a pat on the leg, Alistair takes a step back and Zevran nudges the warhorse into a lazy trot.
"How are the clansmen going to know to meet us at Vigil's Keep?" the Antivan suddenly queries a few hours later, "It would take them months to cross Ferelden in the first place and you said yourself that you've only been back on Ferelden soil a few weeks."
"I sent a message to Jade for him to meet me at the Peak a week before I set sail. I did promise to train him when I returned after all," Lynx divulges with a grin, "He and the others were just days away when I arrived, so it was a simple enough task to tell them to move on to the Vigil instead of climbing all the way up the mountain."
"Jade is with them? This could prove to be quite the adventure then," he smirks as they watch Spiorad veer off the path in hot pursuit of a wild rabbit, "I expect that you will be glad to have your own people around you again."
She wiggles in her seat until she is facing her husband and places a hand on his chest, directly over the tattoo the Chaisnd chief had bestowed upon the elf during the blight when he pledged himself to his apostate, "They're our people Zevran. Thrice bound, remember? According to the Chaisnd, that puts us barely half a step from being the same person."
"Aon intinn, comhlacht amháin, amháin anam," Zevran flawlessly declares in the Chasind tongue, then changes to Antivan, "Anima gemella."
"Soulmate," she needlessly translates into common before also resorting to Anitvan, "And do not think for a second that I have not discerned the meaning of your oath by now Zevran."
He smooths his features into what would be a very believable caricature of innocence, if he were not trying to convince his own wife of the facade, "I have no idea what you mean, my goddess, unless you are referring to my promise of widespread talents that include-but are not limited to-bed warming and thoroughly delightful massages?"
"Ass."
"Yes? My wife tells me often that I have an exemplary one. Very firm, and what was the word? Oh yes, scrumptious, if she is to be believed," he retaliates, playfully rubbing a hand over one haunch, "What is your opinion?"
She rolls her eyes and yawns, pretending to be bored while he shows off, "No, you are absolutely, positively and completely an ass."
"As long as my face doesn't match my personality, yes?" he cheekily refers to her long standing threat with a throaty laugh.
"I can still fry snarky assassins extra crispy you know," she grumbles, but the act soon crumbles and she bursts into laughter along with her lover.
The seriousness of their banter waxes and wanes throughout the course of their journey while they rediscover one another after nearly two years of constant separation. They laugh, they cry, and yet there are many things left unspoken between the pair. For now.
They night they arrive, they find Vigils Keep drowning in chaos, darkspawn overrunning the courtyard while people scatter and try to beat back the creatures.
A young woman battling a hurlock notices the pair, "Run! Get as far away from here as you can, the Vigil is lost!"
Lynx raises a hand and encases the beast in a thick layer of ice, then watches Spiorad knock it over and shatter it before turning on her heel to acknowledge the human, "We are Grey Wardens, do you know who is in charge here?"
"I don't know, I'm only a recruit!" she yells in frustration and yanks her longsword out of another darkspawn, "Be careful Sers, the Chaisnd are helping the monsters!"
Zevran cleanly disposes of a pair of genlocks, then dazzles the girl with his 'come hither' smile, "The Chaisnd are here to help us ragazza. I hope that none of our allies have been injured by yourself or the other Wardens."
"Ní dhéanfaidh aon ní ach cúpla éadomhain marcanna Uncail," an elf with emerald tinted black braids and piercing green eyes announces from the shadows as he emerges, "I've been keeping an eye on her all evening, making sure that she didn't get eaten."
"You!" the recruit accuses as the elven man saunters over, "You stole my horse! And my bow!"
"Me," he impishly confirms with a mocking bow, then lifts his right arm to show the poultice bound to his forearm, "I might presently be in a spot of trouble though, dear Auntie. It seems that hurlocks really can bite through leather armor when you hit them with enough electricity to make them feel threatened."
"Dammit Jade," Lynx jumps forward, then strips the bandage away before releasing a toe curling string of curses, "It's cut right to the bone kiddo, and it's turning septic fast. You're-"
"Infected? Yes, I'm well aware of that, but thank you for stating the obvious for the other kids in the class," he swipes the sweat coursing down his face with his free hand, "Guess it's a good thing I know a few Grey Wardens then, yes? I'll be right as rain in a few hours, or I'll be dead. Not fond of being dead all that much, so I'll focus on the right as rain part, if no one minds terribly. I like rain, it's clean, it smells amazing, and for some strange reason women love to be-"
"Jade, you are rambling ragazzo," Zevran gently interjects while holding out a poultice for his lover to apply to the young man's wound, "You are already fevered nipote, you must be careful if you wish to stay lucid long enough to see this battle to its end."
The Chaisnd elf's sarcastic reply is drown out by the roar of a trio of ogres and the quintet rushes to ready themselves for the next onslaught.
Translation-
aon intinn, comhlacht amháin, amháin anam -one soul, one mind, one body
anima gemella—soul mate
ragazza-girl
Ní dhéanfaidh aon ní ach cúpla éadomhain marcanna Uncail-Nothing but a few shallow marks Uncle
ragazzo-boy
nipote-nephew