What can I say? I love mirror chapters.
Insomnia, II
Morgana
She wakes from a nightmare, and suddenly, it's too claustrophobic in her tent; she wants to see the stars, feel the reassuring weight of her sword in her hand, but it's too cold to go outside.
It's been so long since she's stopped and simply looked up, breathed it all in; she twists her lip at the thought that she might be beginning to take freedom, all this, for granted.
Leliana's cooking and tinkling laugh.
Zevran's lewd humour (yes, she admits that she enjoys it - she has no idea how to respond, ends up blushing and mumbling at her feet, but the elf can always make her laugh).
The scent of woodsmoke, steel and sometimes blood. Terrible jokes, the clank of another set of splintmail beside her. Gentle, callused hands correcting her posture, helping her up, holding hers.
She screws her eyes shut with a sigh, half-opening them to squint at the ceiling of her tent; she can't help looking to her side, as if she can see through the canvas. Yes, she knows exactly where he's pitched his tent. She wonders...
The taint connects them with an unbreakable bond, and it would be so easy just to reach out and find his feelings.
No. She remembers what he said about the lack of privacy given by the ability, about the frustration it caused...
It's wrong. Unwelcome.
It's too tempting, and he could always do the same if he wanted to.
She breathes out, shuts her eyes, and lets the carefully built wall in her mind collapse, simply listens to the humming in her blood.
Her eyes snap open at what she finds - sadness and a little panic, as well as...
Guilt? Why would he feel guilty? She wonders whether it has something to do with his odd silences and his refusal to look her in the eye. Whatever's caused it, it makes her anxious, too; she'd like nothing more than to comfort him, apologize for intruding, but then she'd have to explain...
There's something else there, too, underneath it all. It's warm, nearly a physical ache, and she can't name it. It's almost familiar. She focuses on it, ignores the other emotions.
Warm, pleasantly so, and reaching somehow...
She frowns and shifts on her bedroll, rolling onto her side and wondering what could have caused... whatever-it-is. She finds herself once again looking to where she knows he'll be, not bothering to resurrect the barrier between their emotions. The warmth is soothing, almost an embrace, and she finds her eyes fluttering closed, her breaths steadier. It gives her sleep sometime before the dawn.