[closed] There's a million things I haven't done

[slipshot]

WHO: Gavin and Maxwell
WHAT: trouble in paradise
WHEN: NOWISH basically after Gavin visits Galadriel
WHERE: Location
NOTES: There's gonna be a FIGHT.

It was in the deepest part of the night - the moon had set but there were still hours before the sun rose, and despite the fact that the air was growing warmer in general, it was still bitterly cold when the wind blew strong. Running through the courtyard chilled him right to the bone, but once he made it into the hall, and into the gardens, the wind had at least stopped.

It didn't mean he was any warmer.

He found Maxwell tucked in a little closet off of the garden, and shook him awake.

"Maxwell - Maxwell, I need to talk to you --"

Comments

[dreadinquisitor]

"Yes," he said flatly, because what else could he. He had his misgivings about what the Inquisition had decided, wasn't happy with it, but what was the alternative?

There had be more. It couldn't be the same old arguments again. Not again, not here. Not now.

The Inquisition was supposed to be better.

"The mage who blew up a chantry and started a war. The war the Divine was trying to stop when she, and everyone else at the Conclave, were murdered. It's not exactly a small thing."

[slipshot]

A dark flush rose to his cheeks and to his ears, sharp and pointed as they lay against his head. He rarely felt the height difference between him and Maxwell, but he did now. It had never been intimidating before.

Never felt the race difference between them, but he did now.

Since the beginning, he'd just always assumed they were on the same side.

He should have known better.

"So, the humans just reignite their war here, too, and now it doesn't matter if an innocent elf is imprisoned?" He asked, hotly. "You're right. How could that possibly be important enough for you to even think about?"

[dreadinquisitor]

"I didn't say that," Maxwell said quickly, all heat and surprise, his jaw tightening. "But if you're so eager to believe the Inquisition would--"

That he would. Because he could see it then, in the sharpness of Gavin's gaze. A question and answer, as quickly - as easily - as that.

"What did you want from me, Gavin? To just do what humans do? What nobles do? Use my name, my influence... just be a tool for you."

[slipshot]

"No I thought you were my friend," Gavin snapped back, the anger and the hurt almost undistinguishable from each other.

"I wanted your help because I thought you would care."

[dreadinquisitor]

His friend. Had ever such a usually good word sound so damning?

His lips parted, a flash of hurt, before he was sucking in a breath and tightening again, stiffening all the length of his spine as, unbidden, Zevran's old lesson about friends came drifting up from the depths of his memory.

"Lucky then, you have so many friends."

[slipshot]

The flush deepened, a dark embarrassed red all through his face, his ears, and down his neck. Looking like he was both wilting and being defiant at the same time.

"Yeah. I guess lucky I do," He replied, sharply, trying to ignore the way his eyes were growing hot.

"I guess I'll go bother one of them and see if they find it important."

[dreadinquisitor]

Each word was like an individual insult. Each it's own grain of salt, rubbing into the wound the quiet little rumor had opened. The one he'd hoped was only his own foolishness....

But then he'd been proven wrong by so many things lately.

His eyes went distant, still on Gavin, but not really seeing him. A defense he'd honed so well over his years. (It helped, some. But he still felt it, just as he always had with his parents.)

"That might be for the best."

[slipshot]

There it was. He'd thought--

No. It didn't matter what he thought.

He just stood there, for a moment, looking both furious and heartbroken, panicked and resigned, his eyes getting hotter by the second.

But Damn Fen'Harel, he would not let Maxwell see him cry.

So he just stared, a moment too long, and then he turned, and ran away.

[dreadinquisitor]

He almost spoke, right there, at the end. He shifted one small step, took a breath, but Gavin had already turned and whatever might have been strangled in his throat.

For the best.

He'd given up everything, he'd crossed Thedas, he'd tried so hard.... But he was what he was, and it was always going to come to this.

At least he'd had some time. Something good.

If only for a small while.

Slumping, he turned and moved back out into the cold.