faderift | Under a Violet Moon

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Under a Violet Moon

WHO: James Norrington and Pel Ashara. Also Cyril Ashara, but only ceremonially.
WHAT: He asked for a shot at courting her, so...this is that.
WHEN: Early Wintermarch
WHERE: A grove outside Skyhold
NOTES: CW for first date awkward cuteness.

Vivienne polished her. Katniss dressed her up. Her hair is mostly loose in silver waves to her hips, but for where she wears Vivienne's scarf for a headband. She arrives fashionably late to the grove in question, honestly because being "on time" isn't really a thing in Dalish culture since nobody really bothers with clocks. But she does arrive, hands clenching nervously at her sides, grateful to know Cyril is somewhere around here making sure she doesn't trip and fall and die or something.

Sylaise isn't the one she usually hears from, but she sends a prayer to her. Also to Andruil and Ghilan'nain, because, you know, lovers. And to Mythal, the one she does hear from, because you can never go wrong asking Mythal's blessing. She is, after all, Mythal's creature. It is wise to ask her permission.

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James is waiting far, far outside of Skyhold, as per requested by the lady, dressed in the formal Templar dress uniform. It was rare when a Templar only went out in that, but honestly one couldn't very well go to social engagements clanking around for tea. His had been thoroughly cleaned, shoes polished and his hair combed back as best he could.

He had yet to find the hair oil everyone else had been raving about, apparently.

Still, he was neat, handsome, and he had a covered plate in one hand and a small flower pot with a flower in it with the other. He did have a sword strapped to his hip, but it was there as an afterthought. Something that was as much a part of him as her magic was part of her.

The way was clear -- except for an odd elf with pure white hair, out in the distance. Norrington couldn't be sure but he thought the elf was ... hissing at him. He frowned, tilting his head, but her approach pulls his attention back around to her.

And ... ah. Well. Maker. And Andraste. He swallows, hard, before he stutters, "Lady Pel! You look ...like a beautiful. Woman. I mean, you are. Beautiful. And a woman. Clearly."

He closed his eyes for a moment, before he stated with a little more gravitas, "... You look splendid, my Lady."

She smiles, blushes, and stifles a laugh. Or...giggles in a muffled fashion, really. Her chest shudders slightly with each tiny exhale before she composes herself.

"Thank you. You're very handsome tonight." And that smile...oh Creators, that smile. Whoever sent me that smile, thank you. She feels a bit like she's floating toward him. "And always. I...what did you bring?"

A sudden pit of dread. Was she supposed to bring something?

Edited 2016-01-05 21:46 (UTC)

He is utterly sheepish, but at her compliment, he does smile, eyes crinkling. He glanced at the pot, and the plate. "Oh! Well, this is traditional ... flowers, but I did not think you would want something that would die so."

He offered it to her, clearing his throat, "It's some sort of hearty winter bloom. Not really sure what - I never really had a head for plants."

And now, he had the plate, which he gestured with, "And this is for when we reach ... well, wherever you wanted to walk to. A friend told me this might be something you would enjoy."

Pel takes the pot as if she is being entrusted with a gem. "It's beautiful," she breathes, glowing. Oh, perfect. A gift that isn't a gift at all, but a life shared between two. "I love it."

She tucks the pot in the crook of her elbow and bites down on a smile. He brought her cake, didn't he? But she doesn't want to guess it before it is time, making him feel foolish just to prove she's clever enough to guess.

"Thank you. We don't need to walk far. I don't think there's far to walk before it gets steep and snowy anyway."

He lets out a sigh of relief, oh thank the Maker she liked the flower - she loved it. Now, he was grinning like a schoolboy.

He took the plate one hand, "Well, in that case, if I might escort you, Lady Pel, to the area in which I shall court you? I would be honored."

"I think that's the idea!" Pel really has no idea what she's supposed to say or do here. So much formality. She feels a bit breathless.

He laughed at that, a quiet one, as he took her arm and well, let her lead the way. If he smiled at her like a moon-faced idiot? Only person who would say anything would be the tiny elf out in the field.

They don't go far. She chooses a spot with a fallen boulder. The snow is easily brushed off and the stone dried off as well as can be, for sitting. All conversation topics have been stricken from her head, and there is some awkward silence. Knowing she's being awkward makes it even harder to think of what to say.

She sets the flower on the stone and lets out a breath.

"Our little aravel, I guess," she says inanely. A beat. "We usually set up tables and things outside our aravels, and make it look nice."

No secret domestic dreams here. Nope. Only blatant ones.

Edited 2016-01-07 02:50 (UTC)

There is that level of awkward, while he tries to think of something to say that is not inane babbling. He clears his throat, several times, before going to sit on the rock,, next to the flower pot. Her statement brings his gaze back to her, and he tips his head.

Suddenly, then, it clicks with him, and he gently pats the spot on the rock next to him. "So you all get together for clan meals? That sounds ... well, very nice. Tell me about it."

"It's...no, we don't all eat at tables. Not enough chairs for it."

She looks flustered. She's been fighting off Mia's words for days now, but it's all coming back.

"James, are we sure this is a good idea? You and me? Both of us politically involved, in different factions, mage and templar, are people going to think we're manipulating each other? Are they going to lose faith in the Council?"

"So you all gather on the ground, or boulders? That sounds ... well. That sounds very family-orientated." Which, Maker help him, sounded appealing. Did he sound wistful? Probably.

He blinked at her, and that statement, before he pressed his lips together and put the plate down. Then he reached over and took her hand in his.

"First of all - Mages and templars have been uneasy allies for over a thousand years, and openly enemies in the last thirty. I think our relationship is going to prove that mages and templars can be more - in fact in many cases want to be more. I wouldn't stop an Orlasian from marrying a Fereldan, after all."

Then he squeezed her fingers, looking her in the eyes, "Second of - hang them. I don't care what people say. I am not courting you because you are a mage, I am courting you because you are ... strong, and smart, and so bloody beautiful it might hurt me a little. We are both of age, we are both of ... reasonably sane mind. Sod them and what they'll prattle about. I don't care about anyone's good opinion but yours."

She melts a little at the look in his eyes, the touch of his hand, her fingers curling around his. She scoots closer, putting her head on his shoulder.

"It's just...Commander Cullen. His sister stormed up to me the other day and said I'd be the ruin of him. I didn't even know it was rumored we were sleeping together--we're not, we're just friends. She was very upset. I didn't know shems cared so much about things like that."

He folds their fingers together, tucking his arm through hers so she could lean against his shoulder. So he could give into the temptation to lean his cheek against her soft hair, breath in the soft, fresh scent.

"Well, clearly she's protective ... " He said wryly, before he spoke more seriously, "That is a horrible rumor. Thank you, for telling me." One corner of his mouth lifted, "I am also dreadfully glad you are just friends."

He shook his head, "It is not how it is - it is how it can look. He can look like he is taking advantage of you, you can look like you are taking advantage of him. There is only one way to disprove such slander, and that is to simply deny it, and move on with your life. People can talk, but if there is nothing to back up the talk they grow bored and move onto something else."

One corner of his mouth lifted up, "Shems are rather stupid, in that aspect."

A faint smile touches her lips. She looks up at him.

"You're not."

He looks down at her, quirking a small smile at him.

"You know, considering how most Dalish feel about us shems -- I think that is perhaps the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me." He leaned in to whisper, "Thank you."

He leans in, she cranes up, touching her lips softly to his. Then she lingers, waiting, letting him take the lead.

Ah.

oh maker.

Warm lips, soft, smell of something flowery, her breath on his cheek and she is staying there and holy andraste, her mouth feels so very good on his. So he lifts his hand, and cups her cheek, to keep her mouth there for a few moments longer. So he can taste her lips, slid his thumb along the softness of her skin.

He lingers for a moment longer, before pulling back, his green eyes slightly darker as he murmurs, "...so, I take it that you are agreeable to me formally courting you?"

A faint laugh. She has goosebumps from his touch, and her skin feels warm. She wants more of that touch, all over.

"Yes. No more secrets. We'll do this properly."

Well, that should be rewarded with another kiss, so James leaned forward this time. Pressing his mouth to hers once more, with the same light and intent touch.

When he pulled again, he was beaming. "Good. Marvelous." He thought about it for a moment, "So .. that means I am going to meet your entire family, correct?" He hummed. "I shall need more armor."

"I'll protect you." One more little kiss, and she threads their fingers together. "And they'll do no worse than give you dirty looks. They know I'm the deadliest of us all."

"Oh, I believe it. All of it." She might look small and delicate, but there was a soul of steel in those soft eyes. He brought her fingers up to his lips so he could kiss them gently. "But I shall muddle through their dirty looks."

... Not like he hadn't gotten worse looks from everyone else here. Hrm.

"Pel ... are you going to be all right, being with a Templar? Ignoring reputation nonsense -- bad blood has abounded for years. Do you feel safe with me?"

"I--"

The question is so loaded for Pel that she has to stare and blink for a moment to process that it was asked in the first place and that it's on her to answer. She can't just wait until it vanishes into the ether.

"As safe as I've ever felt with anyone." She is suddenly feeling flustered. Upset that she can't give a simple yes. "I--James. James, feeling unsafe all the time has kept me and some of the people around me alive."

It's like he accused her of something, and she's having to defend herself. Heat of a different sort is rushing to her face now, shame and fear, terror that he won't want her if he knows she's afraid of everyone.

"I can't...stop."

He frowns, not because of the answer but because she seems so upset over making him upset. "Pel ... Pel it's all right. I'm not upset. In fact it - it is something of a relief to know that even though you have felt unsafe around me, you feel safer with me than -- well." Everyone. Outside of her own clan.

He looked at her intently, his voice quiet, "All I want to do, is earn your trust. If I have earned that much, considering how much you have been through - how much to have to fear - I consider myself honored." He kissed her hand again, fervently, before looking at her solemnly.

"I did not mean to subject you to my own ... issues. I am sorry."

"No--no, if this is going to be real, we'll have to get used to subjecting each other to our issues. Frankly, I like it better than trying to scrounge up painful small talk. It lets me get to know you. Puts you in context. The only other real relationship I've had was someone I grew up with, so...this? This is more comfortable than little pleasantries and trying to make you think I'm also pleasant."

He searched her face for that, before one corner of his mouth lifted in silent agreement and pleasure that someone understood the need to be ... well. Straight-forward. So he squeezed her hand, speaking quietly.

"The Templars will survive because the Order, or rather the New Order, is so dedicated to helping the Inquisition and bringing back peace to Thedas. I just ... I am so afraid we will forever be tainted by the brush of those who abused their power. I am used to being hated for what I am -- but not for what someone else has done."

"It gets old. Quickly." Pel settles against him again with a sigh. "Lately I've started just expecting to be murdered in my sleep. The possession that was recent, that poor apprentice..."

She hesitates for some time, remembering how Adelaide spoke of this. Her grief, her resignation, how old fears made her speak old words.

"Killed by an angry spirit. I hear so much blame on the Council, especially from the Council. For not acting quick enough. For not being as extreme as we could be. But nobody seemed to care there was this young mage who died. Just pointing fingers, trying to make sure everybody knew it wasn't their fault. It's totally symbolic, scapegoating. Like that mage in Kirkwall who destroyed the Chantry. He did wrong, but he didn't do all the wrong. But that's how people treat it, so the blame can be swept off of them and the people they like. So long as some other person is guilty, it's impossible for me to be guilty as well.

"...Maybe that's how the elves got driven away from the Dales."

Her eyes are downcast briefly, then she looks up at him.

"But the Inquisition is our chance to make things better. Our chance to make the world better. Everybody is looking at us. Seeing what we do. This is our chance to set our example and see what happens. And I really believe--I have to believe--that if we do it right, the world will have no excuse anymore not to do the same."

Edited 2016-01-09 02:21 (UTC)

"Indeed." He listens to her, nodding his head at many parts, although he does make a face at the 'mage from Kirkwall'. "I won't argue that he was not the entire problem -- that was Meredeith and all her paranoia. He did do wrong though and ... well. One of these days I need to give him a solid punch to the face for as many mages he scared into blood magic out of desperation that day. You are right though - he did not do all the wrong."

He is silent for a moment, "... Perhaps it is. Perhaps it is time to stop pointing out what is wrong, and focusing on what is right. Like the Inquisition. Like making the world a place where you would want to raise a family. Like making other people see us ... all ... for who we truly are."

"I know it sounds hopelessly idealistic. But there's no way to make the world idealistic if you're not going to be idealistic. Value life, more than anything. Blowing up a Chantry and saying it's for the greater good is worse than just the deaths it makes, it's the world it makes. I can't believe a world built on corpses is a world worth saving. If we can't win against evil, against Corypheus or anyone, by doing the right thing, then maybe we don't deserve to win."

He looks at her for a long and silent moment, before he states quietly and simply, "Pel, I have to say that you are, without a doubt, the most attractive woman I have ever known in my entire life. I may just be completely infatuated with your mind and your morals. Is that acceptable?"

And there he goes again. Thinking she's amazing exactly the way she is. It feels like she's lying to him.

"But I'm not--you--why do you have to be so kind? I'm not moral. I'm not pretty. I've abandoned my duty to serve my clan as First and as Keeper. I used to pretend corpses weren't really people so I wouldn't be too scared to prepare them for burial. I'm not polite. I've no idea how to talk to people who spent their lives worrying about feelings instead of day-to-day survival. Everybody I've ever known needed me to be something, and I became that for them. But you like me the way I--"

Yes. He already knows everything she just told him, and he still likes her.

"You like me the way I am. I don't have to become anything for you, so I've no idea what I should be doing. Nobody's in danger, nobody's hungry, nobody's tent needs mending, it's just you and me and I don't have anything to offer. You don't need me like the others."

Edited 2016-01-13 18:02 (UTC)

Right ... both of Norrington's eyebrows are just going to on as she sat there and ranted at him, because there really wasn't anything else he could do at the rapid fire spattering of words until she was done. It wasn't funny - not in the slightest - because it was a bundle of worries that Pel had laid at his doorstep, and he had to rub the back of his neck.

"Well ... I will probably need you to tell me to slow down. To assess everything you've told me and not just jump in blindly because you're the first woman I have met who is practical, and rational, and yet feels as deeply as you do."

He looks over at her, his expression sober, "But you're right - I have made myself self-sufficient. I have had to be. My family was ... murdered when I was a child, and I was made to watch. I swore to myself I would never be that helpless again. So - I wasn't. I was determined to be able to handle anything life threw at me - blood mages, being an orphan, everything on my own. So no ... I don't need you for ... being a parent, or a sister, or a cousin, or a Keeper. I am not going to apologize for that."

He bit his lip, and stated, "But I need you, because I want you. I ... pray that is enough for you?"

Her eyes are wide as saucers until he finishes speaking. The horror when Elan committed suicide in front of Merrick still haunts her, and James...James had been the Merrick in that situation, the child screaming like an animal. But Merrick had had her to carry him away, back to the encampment, her fear giving her strength. James hadn't had anyone. James was the adult in his life since boyhood. She had grown up like that. And now they've found each other.

"It is," she says quietly, something in her chest giving as she admits to it. "It's...a gift I never thought...yes."

He wants her like she wants him. Not because he's needed, but because it feels right for him to be at her side.

"I'm sorry. I want you, too. Sometimes I'm afraid to say things because so often I say the wrong thing. But I do want you. You're strong and you have such integrity, and you see things clearly. You're kind and patient and treat everyone with respect and dignity. If I doubt, it's because I can't imagine being worthy of you. But I think I'll stop caring about that, given time."

He gives her a crooked smile, sad along the edges. "What a pair we make - someone who has spent so much time on his own he doesn't know how to say anything he doesn't mean ... so much for sweet nothings, eh? And someone who is so used to being needed for everything outside of a lover she's not sure what to make of one."

He took her hand again, and kissed the inside of her palm, right at her wrist. "We both have a lot to learn." Now his smile was a little sly, "I look forward to learning you."

And her smile, in turn, is positively wicked. Oh, it is fortunate for James that Taas and Zevran have taught her new tricks in bed. Rehearsals they, compared to James.

"Well, when we get to that point, I just might have to learn you first." She squeezes his hand lightly. "What did you bring me? Cake?"

...all right he didn't know she had that smile in her repertoire. That smile promised all sorts of things in the future, and he would be delighted to find out.

He cleared his throat, before he beamed again and then produced the plate, "I brought you cake. A Sam-bird told me it was one of your favorites."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you." She tucks her hair behind her ears, positively glowing now. "Ma serannas."

"Really? It wasn't my charming smile or my pretty eyes? Tsk. I'll have to remember the cake all the time then." He smiled more brightly at that. "You are quite welcome."

"Your charming smile and pretty eyes hooked me, but cake made me stay." She helps herself, leaving half for him. "I didn't know you knew Sam."

"I shall keep that in mind - if this courtship is ever in danger of my losing my charms I shall simply have to buy a bakery." He broke off a piece, and took a small bite, before his lips quirked up wryly, "He was one of my charges, in Ostwick. One of the many mages who proved to me that mages could do the right thing - even if they felt like they were backed into a corner."

He looked off across the mountains, "I know the Circle wasn't easy on him -- but he made the best of it. As he's making the best of it here. I'm proud of him."

Which ... sounded surprisingly older brother-ish.

Another sort of smile. Glad, peaceful, that Sam has someone like this.

"I'm grateful you were watching over him. He deserves that."

He looks at her thoughtfully, before he smiles a little at the ground.

"I was pleased to do it. I just wish -- well. Now I know more, so now I wish it was different."

"It's always easier to know what you should have done than what you should do. Don't punish yourself for it."

"Hmm ... but so many are willing to punish me already." He smiled a little more sadly now, before he looked out to the expanse. "All I know is this - I have to prove that my brothers and sisters can change, that we will change and that we can live alongside mages as partners ... or everything I have worked for will be destroyed because of one madwoman's mistakes."

"Welcome to the uphill struggle. I suggest making friends with people who live under oppression--they'll be able to show you the ropes of proving a thing that can't be proven."

He looked over at her, before he smiled a little and leaned towards her, "Would you like to be my friend?"

"Strictly speaking, I'm not oppressed. The Dalish are pretty strict about that." She leans in to place a feather-light kiss on the tip of his nose. "But yes. I'll be your friend."

"Well good." Then maybe he could stop walking on eggshells around the lot of them - or at least some of them. He grinned at that kiss, even as his ears flushed pink again. "Why thank you."

"You are adorable," Pel says as if confirming something to herself.

"Please keep thinking that as long as you want." He stated simply, and firmly, before he smiled back."

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Under a Violet Moon

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tw: suicide (past)

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