faderift | ( closed ) it is time we were together

Entry tags:

( closed ) it is time we were together

WHO: Herian & Cosima
WHAT: a talk
WHEN: a week or two after the return to the Gallows
WHERE: Gallows library & ?
NOTES: reference to violence & recent trauma, possibly description of gross injuries?

She feels as though she were made up of smoke, that is the wind dragged at her too hard she might disappear. Herian is not entirely certain how she might manage all this; the understanding more, day by day, the impacts of the battle, the weight of what they might need to do to win the war, and what will become of things if they do win. Will there be Circles once more? Will elves have better lives alongside humanity? Will the Chantry still have its grasp, will Orlais settle back to itself, will there be change or will this be more akin to a strange pause and shuffling before all falls back to what it once was? If there are changes, will the world be better or will there be new monstrosities?

Being shrouded in dark colours is not necessarily unusual for the Ambassador, but slowly she had been starting to wind in bolts of brighter colour. Now she is all in shades of grey and black, a mark of respect for their fallen. She would have woven forget-me-knots, but they have been dormant since the first frost— nothing to be done, on that count. Around her neck hangs the necklace Cosima gave her, the reminder of mercy.

Walking quickly until she reaches the library, Herian stops at the doorway, resumes walking at a slower, more respectful pace for a place of learning, looking between the stacks until she spots Cosima at a table and walks towards her. Very softly, Herian calls out so that she doesn't startle her with her approach. "Cosima."

She is still a little too pale, her right shoulder still recovering and wrapped up beneath her clothes, but at first glance she seems well. Her hand, at least, is whole and only a little stiff rather than needing bandaging. That's an improvement.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Wow, serious. Okay." Cosima schools her expression into what could be described as a "serious listening face," with a hint of a smile lingering. "Do you want to ask here, or is this a like... go out to the ramparts then ask thing?"

The response coaxes a grin from her, bright and without the weight of before dragging at it.

"Let's go to the ramparts. You can take my cloak." Save them the detour, allow her to be chivalrous - she's already unfastening it.

"Fine, but if one of your healers comes to find me to say you've caught whatever the Thedas equivalent of pneumonia is, I'm gonna feel really bad," she says. But she'll accept it all the same, because she suspects Herian is trying to preserve their momentum for whatever reason and she doesn't want to undercut it.

A quiet laugh as she leans forward to kiss Cosima's temple, bringing the cloak around with a carefulness born of not wanting to aggravate her injuries, settling it on Cosima's shoulders and using it to playfully tug her a little closer.

"I accept full responsibility." So serious, so severe.

"Alright, fair." They go, with Cosima as close as she can be without making walking awkward. As they come up, she smiles a little, looking out over Kirkwall. "Man, this city is so weird, but I kind of love whoever was like You know what, screw it, we can build a city vertically."

Her own gaze catches on Cosima, and smile fond as she watches her take in the city. “‘Weird’ is a rather more generous assessment than I tend to hear,” she replies lightly, almost teasingly, as she sets her hand at the small of Cosima’s back and draws her a little closer to kiss her temple. The wind is tugging at her robes, and it’s a good enough excuse for a moment of closeness as any, though she doubts they either of them look for excuses any more. Not when so many have departed - willingly, or through missions, or by slipping back to the Fade. Reassurance of Cosima’s solidness, her presence, is always welcome.

“We should see more cities. Explore and get into mischief together.”

"I'd like that," Cosima says, with a small grin. "I haven't seen much of Thedas that's not Kirkwall or some variation on camping. Oh, maybe we could go see the university at Val Rayeaux and cheerfully ignore any hints we shouldn't actually be there." It's only half a joke.

"Where would you want us to go?"

"We should." So far as she's concerned, any university would be privileged to have Cosima walk their halls. Perhaps she's a little biased - just a little. "I'll start a list."

Looking over towards Kirkwall, she's quiet as she considers. "I think... Starkhaven, first. I would like for you to see my city, and my home. Although—"

A moment of hesitation, solely to take a breath, "although when you meet members of my family, I would be... especially happy if it were to meet people who were your family, as well."

It takes her a second...

"...Herian?" Because she thinks she knows what Herian is getting at, but it'd been so far from her mind that it's necessary to make sure before she does something ridiculous like cry.

Ah. Yes. That was not the clearest expression, was it? Not that she really expected it to be, but there had been a certain safety in not having spoken it yet, and having said it unclearly seemed rather more perilous.

"I— am not familiar with the traditions of your home, although I suspect that tradition is of little concern to you," she continues, gently conspiratorial, as she draws something from her pocket. "I found this in my mother's books. She pressed it with flowers." In her palm rests a wooden ring, though Herian trails her finger over a braided grass loop that has been set and sealed into a carved depression in the wood. "Would—"

She inhales, exhales, and gently takes Cosima's hand. "My life is so much richer for having you in it, and I— there is nothing I wish for more than to be always at your side."

Say it. Don't lose nerve now, don't falter. "Will you marry me?"

Cosima's eyes fill, but the tears aren't -- quite -- falling. "Yes, oh my god, yes, of course I will..." and then she's kissing Herian instead of saying anything else, because she's going to say something embarrassing if she keeps talking.

It's not quite disbelief, but certainly a relieved breath that could almost have become laughter, before Cosima kisses her. She wraps her arms around her, drawing her closer (could they really be any closer?), the ring carefully in hand. Cosima said yes.

(Eventually they'd need to figure out what that could even mean, but that was for later.)

She's mumbling against Cosima's lips, not bothering to pull back from the kiss, "this means you have to come running in the mornings." Quiet, teasing, as she kisses Cosima again.

"Shit," she says, laughing against Herian's mouth, "are you going to try to put that in our vows, that's terrible." Not terrible enough, evidently, for her to pull away. "Do I get to pick something that intense for you?"

"We'll see," quiet and conspiratorial, as she bumps her nose against Cosima's, just a little bit ridiculously. She feels— light. A little giddy.

"You absolutely can. Anything you like."

"I'll really have to think about it." She rests her forehead against Herian, rising on her toes a little to do so. "I love you. So much." Which is and isn't a change of subject.

"It'd be a sorry thing if you didn't and said yes regardless." Said with a breath of laughter, and she turns to lean back against one of the ramparts. "And I, you."

Rolling the ring between her fingers, she gently catches Cosima's left hand. "If you've any desire for discretion, I won't begrudge you wishing to wear this about your neck." Gently, because, well. The Gallows are a little judgy.

"OK, look, I've got a glowing green anchor in my hand," she says, warmly if with a bit of an eye roll (what even is her life). "I'd rather people stared at me for something that's my choice, if they're going to stare. I feel like you're the one with more to worry about."

Marrying a rifter is no longer unprecedented, technically, but it's still something that's going to be complicated. Especially since Cosima's not especially interested in converting.

Her smile is warm and comfortable, unfettered by the normal seriousness that tempers so many of her movements and expressions. Her arms are looped about Cosima’s waist, and in truth she feels calmer for that proximity. Even without it, though, she is certain of at least one thing.

“There will be challenges, no doubt, but trepidation and anxiety cannot cheapen this, I promise you.” A tilt of her head. “Coupe will likely... caution both of us. Others may do the same, though I suspect I will be the one receiving menacing warnings about protecting you.”

Those last few words are spoken with a certain dramatic flair.

"Oh come on," she says, laughing. "Who's gonna keep me safer than you, honestly? It's like marrying a bodyguard." It is killing her that she can't make a Whitney Houston joke.

(She does imagine what Sarah would say, briefly... and then promptly puts that out of her mind.)

"We're gonna have to think about how to play it, you're the head of Dipomacy, but if it were up to me, we'd just elope, honestly."

Wrly, Herian's nose wrinkles just a little, and she shakes her head, before her voice drops to something more like a conspiratorial stage whisper. "In her case, the concern is that I might be the danger."

Not a concept that's wholly foreign, entangled as it was with that desire for Tranquility and the fear of what she could become. She nudges Cosima gently, a little reassurance that it's not a fear pressing on Herian. Certainly she's careful, aware of herself and her moods, but that fear is not deeply rooted as it once was.

She makes a quiet sound of agreement, and kisses Cosima's temple and staying close. "We don't need to rush our decisions or make a grand announcement. If people ask, we can tell them, but— we have a little time, I think."

"I think most people in the Inquisition have more important things to worry about than us," Cosima says, frankly. "I might tell a few people, and I assume you will too, but... I don't want it to become a big political thing, if it doesn't have to. You know?" It's already enough so, given who they are, but she isn't inclined to make a show of it.

"Maybe I'll read up on Thedosian wedding traditions in the meantime."

Herian nods in agreement. "This is for us." She grasps Cosima's hands in her own, brings them up so she can press a kiss to Cosima's knuckles.

She didn't envy the headaches and pressure Gwenaëlle has endured in the past months. It was something she might take on for herself, if she had to, but she would far sooner avoid it. All the more important, she'd rather spare Cosima being made into some sort of spectacle.

A little smile, with that. "And traditions from your home that you want honoured, promise me you'll tell me of those?"

"Totally. I'll have to think about it, though. A lot of our traditions either assume a man-woman couple or they're overtly religious, so I wouldn't do them even at home, but there are some things that would be nice." Thoughtfully, "Is wedding cake a thing in Thedas? We should definitely take the excuse to get a big, ridiculous cake. OR an equally ridiculous bunch of tiny cakes."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( closed ) it is time we were together

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject