..I'm sorry, I believe I got a bit of lunacy caught in my ear.
[ Excuse him, but he's just going to be very concerned for a moment before his expression is perfectly fine. ]
At least you are all right, now? [ And oh, how can he deny her request when she looks at him like that? He closes the distance between their hands, wrapping his around her smaller one. ]
[ All she can do is smile at him, gently, squeezing his hand and moving to shift closer. The urge to rest her forehead on his shoulder is incredible, but they're still learning how to be friends when she loved him so much and he had no idea who she was.
Her hand aches and she's tired, exhausted, with nightmares of Vieziei and Solas haunting her and making her feel sick to her stomach. ]
[ Stupid Inquisitors with their stupid heroism and sticking their necks out unnecessarily. Well.. He doesn't know that it was unnecessary, he hadn't been there. He has an inkling, though, that she did what she thought she had to. It's what most of them do.
Her hand squeezes his and he brushes his thumb lightly over her knuckles once. ]
I'm relieved. That was.. terrible, to say the least.
We had to find them somehow. I managed to lead people to their rituals and save some of the others, too.
[ But it took its toll on her. Her hand still hurts and she's still exhausted - the amount of magic she had used in the last few weeks, the amount of strain she put herself through, all because she wanted to help people. She's glad Dorian doesn't know most of it because she can imagine the tense, frowning judgement that would come.
When he brushes his thumb over her hand she feels as though she's going to fall apart. It's been weeks since she felt safe - not since waking up, since before finding Solas, since arriving at the Palace for the Exalted Council - but here, with Dorian holding on to her, she feels as though there's nothing for her to fear. ]
Dorian. [ She breathes out his name, closing his eyes. For a moment, her throat is tight. ] Did you know I'm dying?
I'm glad you were able to help them, then. It's something no one should have to experience.
[ She looks exhausted, but not from magic use- this is a bone-deep exhaustion that seems to sap the life force. She needs rest, more of it than she's been getting; than she's probably had since they left. Of course there will be judgment, but that's his modus operandi. He judges because he's at a loss. He should have been there. What sort of companion is he that he let the Inquisitor go at this alone-- especially when something like blood rituals are involved??
There's silence, and then he feels his throat constrict and a leaden weight settles in his stomach. He hadn't known that. Dorian doesn't know Leilani as well as she knows him, but.. there's still a feeling of loss at the fact. Dying, and she's still saving people. The conversation mirrors one that he's had before. Far longer ago and even further away, but the feeling is so familiar, and it's one he has difficulty with.
Helplessness.
His mouth works to say something, but nothing comes up. His jaw clicks shut, teeth clenching together. ]
I-- [ Goodness, this is unbecoming of him. She's the one ailing, not him. He clears his throat, brow knitting together. ]
I wanted to do something. No one should have to suffer that.
[ It is bone deep; it's years and years of being placed on a pedestal, it's months of working herself to the bone, of tracking agents of this and that and Qunari spies and spies of Fen'Harel only to find out that it all comes back to half of them tripping over the machinations of the her ex-lover, who was Fen'Harel himself. Learning the truth about Solas, about the loss of her vallaslin, about everything... It hurts. It's like her entire life has been destroyed and shattered by the revelations.
Lifting her head, she watches Dorian for a moment, feeling shame rush over her. She never wanted to hurt him or upset him, but she can't sit on this knowledge on her own for long. How many people realise the weight of the Anchor? How many people recognise that it's killing her? How long can she survive here? It's a question that has no real answer, and she bows her head. She loathes herself for putting all of this on a man who doesn't know her at all; he doesn't have the same feelings as the Dorian she knew. It wasn't fair.
Closing her eyes, she breathes out. ]
I need to have my arm removed or for Solas to appear and take care of it for me.
[ Neither options fill her with glee, but there's definitely one that's preferable. ]
[ She shouldn't have to endure the knowledge on her own, it must be agonizing to carry alone. He had no idea that the anchor she bore was killing her, and immediately, he remembers their earlier conversation about it. He had outright refused to aid her, and doesn't he feel like an ass for it. There's no taking it back, of course, but perhaps...
He should help her with it, especially if it means her life. Is that what had befallen Cyril as well? Is this the same fate his own Inquisitor will face? How much time does she have in this moment, and what ramifications will befall her for staying in this place? There are too many variables.. too many things that could go wrong. What made it different suddenly?
Even though he doesn't truly know her-- not like he should... it's still a melancholy sort of ache. Another version of himself may have to deal with the same thing. How will he react to the news? Does he even know? The air between them is heavy with uncertainties, and Dorian is at a loss for how to make it better. ]
How long do you have? [ He is building up his resolve, now. If that's what he has to do to ease her suffering? Well.. That's why she came to him with the topic again, isn't it? He won't deny her that if it's what she wants him to do. Leilani is still the Inquisitor. ]
Not long enough. [ But she shakes her head, drawing her hand away from Dorian's, feeling silly and stupid all of a sudden. There's a sudden rush of discomfort that floods her and she bows her head, taking a few deep breaths and counting back from three. It helps her to calm her racing heart, helps her to gather her strength and her determination, and she steps away from Dorian to slide down and rest on the floor with her back against his bed.
She feels awful. She didn't come here to tell him about her Anchor or her fate - she came here because she was scared and she wanted someone familiar. She wants to reach up and have him laugh with her, to tease her, to flirt and compliment the curve of her jaw or something about her mind, for things to go back to normal. She doesn't want to slip into dreams where she can't reach out to Solas, she doesn't want to remember the devastating pain of her Anchor exploding around her, making her want to tear her own limb away.
Shaking her head, she leans back, finally turning to look at him. Her sadness makes her stomach twist and she shakes her head, offering him a soft smile and her hand again, if he wants to come to her. There's no push, nothing that demands that he come to join her, nothing that should make him thing that it is an order. She isn't here as an Inquisitor or as a Keeper - she's here as someone who needed a friend and had no one else. Dorian might not know her, but he is everything in this moment. ]
I don't think I'm going to die here. It may be that there are no measures that need to be taken. It only hurts sometimes, but I can survive it. It has been my burden for years anyway. [ Lifting a shoulder, she tries to be nonchalant. ] I didn't come here for this, truly, Dorian. I came because I couldn't sleep.
[ He stays put for the time being, watching her as she settles on the floor with her back to the bed. Lets her have a moment before he takes her hand again and sits on the edge of the bed, his leg pressed to her shoulder. There are a great many things he'll do, but sitting on the cold, metal floor is where he draws the line. ]
You shouldn't have to hurt at all. [ That would be the ideal, wouldn't it? He knows that his own Inquisitor has the occasional flair up, but he's not aware of how bad it actually is. It must be an Inquisitor inclination not to over share what is going on. ]
I anticipated as much when you asked whether or not I was awake. I bring out the dramatic side to most people.
[ Really, that's all that she needs. Dorian settles down on the bed, Dorian takes her hand, Dorian lets her rest her head on his thigh and it's everything she could have asked for. Tears well up inside of her as her heart sings Dorian Pavus over and over again, reaching to hold on to the one anchor she has here on the fleet. She feels awful, shame curling at her, biting at her fingers as she grips at the weight of him, loathing the way she depends on a man who knows her and doesn't all at once.
This isn't the same person she shared wine with or cornered in a library, the man she called brave, nor is it the man she stood beside in an uncertain future they needed to change. He has no idea who she is, at her core, and yet he holds onto her anyway, seeking her sadness and attempting to push it away. That's who he is, and she's never adored him more than she does in this single moment. ]
No one should have to hurt, but that's not how our world works.
[ She does laugh, though, tilting her head up to watch him fondly, a gentleness settling around her. Her fingers squeeze his hand and she shifts, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles in a mirror image of what he had done for her earlier. Breathing out, she closes her eyes, trying to relax. ]
You bring out the best side of people too, you know.
[ He lets her have her moment of desperation, being her silent anchor as she needs. He wonders how her version of him would handle this- if there's something he should do that he's missed because their timelines are just a bit skewed. That thought gets pushed immediately to the back of his head. He can't keep thinking that or it's going to drive him insane.. Dorian is here now and that's what matters. He may not truly know her relationship with him, but maybe this is a step closer. She trusts him enough to have a moment of weakness in front of him, and that's incredibly humbling in itself.
She grasps at his hand, her head pillowed on his thigh. Tan fingers find their way into her hair, carding through her soft locks and dragging against her scalp lightly. He didn't know how much he needed to see her smile until she gets that fond look on her face. ]
No, it's not at all.. [ Suffering is the native sound of Thedas and right now, he feels it. His heart squeezes almost painfully in his chest. What is it about the Dalish Inquisitors that they feel the need to wound him in the best ways? Her thumb strokes over his knuckles and his heart swells. ]
That sentiment will depend entirely upon who you talk to.
[ There's a problem with being Inquisitor and that is that she can't let herself be weak in front of people; she must be a statue, strong and unshaken, proud and determined to the end. She couldn't be afraid when she hunted Corypheus, she couldn't be afraid when she stood before a dragon, she wasn't meant to feel fear when she stumbled into the Fade and came face to face with her own nightmares, but she was. She's afraid now, too; afraid of her own demons catching up with her, of the Anchor exploding again and hurting the people she cares about, of dying before she can bring everyone she loves back into her arms.
Leilani is desperate for some kind of comfort now and even though she doesn't voice it Dorian is there, reaching back for her and lifting a hand to touch at her hair. He strokes his fingers against her scalp and she relaxes, sighing a soft noise and resting her cheek on his leg, leaning closer and holding onto him. This is her anchor, she thinks. It doesn't matter how far she goes when she has someone to come back to - someone who will make her laugh, who lightens her heart, who doesn't shoo her out when the nightmares drag her courage from her. Dorian is someone who reaches back, and it makes her heart pang in the most wonderful of ways. ]
It could be worse. I could be listening to Mother Giselle again.
[ It's a tease, and she brings his knuckle to her mouth, leaving a soft kiss there before she pushes herself up. Then she's settled on his bed, wrapping her arms around him and holding on tight, squeezing him and letting her fingers grasp - gently, she knows how he is - at his shirt. He's warm and feels like home, and Leilani feels happy for the first time in a while, even with the haunting reminder of her nightmares prickling in the back of her mind. ]
Consider me on the side of 'Dorian Pavus is wonderful'. [ A fond smile, and her forehead moves to nudge his gently. ] Ar dhrua ma, lethallin.
[ The only problem with being the Herald is having to be that beacon of hope for all of Thedas. It's a burden that's hard to carry, especially for someone like Leilani, who probably had no intentions of becoming this involved when she entered the Conclave. Constant and unyielding strength eventually takes its toll. The thing is..everyone gets scared and has the right to show it. Bull shows it with getting himself beaten with a stick, Dorian uses sarcasm as he does with most things, analyzing at a later date. Or drowning everything in wine. Her suffering is quiet and desperate in the way she holds onto him like he's the only thing keeping her above water.
The jab makes him huff in laughter, shaking his head. ] You're right, listening to that crone is a punishment in itself.
[ There's no way he could adore her more, and it worries him. Her arms are around him and he returns the gesture, his own coming around her back. She squeezes a bit too tight, his still-healing ribs screaming in protest. His grip on her tightens, and he absolutely doesn't make a noise of discomfort, just clearing his throat. This is an emotional moment and he's floored.
Dorian's grasp on Elvish is definitely lacking, but there's one word he knows enough from hearing it often. Lethallin. His hand moves to the back of her neck, giving it a light squeeze in return. ]
[ There was never a part of her that wanted that role, to take up the mantle of some kind of shemlen figure of power, to pretend to believe in something that all her Gods and beliefs told her were false. She prayed to the shrines of the Pantheon, she kept her Keeper's ring around her neck and she stood by those that she thought were real and true. She accepted the role as an elf and nothing more, recalling the tales of her people, of the Dalish, of their own desires - We are the last of the elvhenan, and never again shall we submit. She because Inquistor as much for her people as she did for Thedas.
In moments like this, though, she can't find any reason why she can argue some kind of happiness. Wrapped up with Dorian, with a friend she would never have met otherwise - he in Tevinter and her in the Dales with her clan - she knows she made the right choice. Even when her mind floods with bright green dreams and a solemn, careful voice stalks her through the Fade she knows she has chosen right. She would never choose to give up any of them, not for a moment. Any pain was worth bearing if it means she could hear Bull and the chargers laughing, Blackwall carving quietly, Vivienne and Cassandra sniping... Dorian reading aloud and scoffing at the ridiculousness of the books.
She'd choose them. Every single time. In any world, in any place, at any cost, she would choose them. ]
Your ears would fall off and then we've have to get you prosthetics. It would be a terrible shame.
[ She is not blind, however, and she notices the shift, the cough, and her eyes narrow before she shakes her head. Shifting, she moves back and settles higher on the bed, taking Dorian's hand and tugging gently. He might not be in the mood to lie down but she's not going to have him lounging and embracing her when, clearly, he is suffering something. Her lips twist down into a frown and she tilts her head, wanting to draw him close but being afraid to hurt him more. ]
I'd gladly lead the club, if I am permitted. [ Then, softer; ] Come and lie with me. Just for a few hours, then I will give you some peace.
[ Expression gentle, she just waits. It's up to Dorian to make himself comfortable or not; she just wants him to have his pain eased. ]
Perish the thought. Nothing compares to the ones I have already.
[ After a few moments of reluctance, Dorian nods in agreement, moving up on the bed so they can stretch out under the layers of blankets. He can see the request for what it is, even if she doesn't voice it. He is grateful that she isn't fussing, at least. There are others who ended up worse than he did, and he's perfectly fine healing naturally- even if it's rather tiresome and long-winded.
Once he's settled next to her, he huffs in amusement. ]
You're the first woman that's managed to get me into bed. [ It's not an uncomfortable thing by any means, merely a humorous observation. If he weren't comfortable with Leilani, he wouldn't have conceded to her request. ]
I'd be devastated if we had to get you a new pair. These are charming.
[ But he moves, at least, and for a moment Leilani wonders just how comfortable he is - is he doing this because he wants to, or because he feels obligated? Then she feels a spark of foolishness. No one can make Dorian Pavus do something he doesn't want to do, not really, and that's not something she expects her to be somehow above. If he didn't want to settle down with her then he'd have told her to go back to her room or something of the like.
He'd tell her to shove off, and it makes her smile even in her own mind.
Settling, she breathes out, relaxing a tiny bit as she turns to face him. ]
I am? [ It doesn't surprise her, not really, even as platonic as they are. Shaking her head, she nudges him gently. ] Don't go telling the whole fleet, ma vhenas.
[ Indeed, he wouldn't have moved if he truly hadn't wanted to- excuses are easy enough to come up with. Dorian doesn't believe he would have to with Leilani, she respects him enough to honor his wishes but knows when to demand something of him. Letting himself get used to her proximity, he relaxes a little more against the pillows. ]
I don't know whether my father would be proud, or horrified that we've come full circle. [ Probably at least thankful it was a woman in his bed and not another one of the men on his laundry list of liaisons. The fact that they were elves may take away some of that pride. Not that there's much to be had, but Dorian's past the point of caring much about that anymore.
He smiles fondly at the nudge, adjusting himself so he can lay more on the side that hurts a bit less, arm under the pillow. ] As it happens, I am marvelous at keeping secrets. [ Ah, that's a phrase he doesn't know, and the confusion shows on his face. ]
[ There's a part of her that's very slightly overwhelmed by the trust Dorian is placing in her right now. She knows about his past and his history, and she knows he know she's aware - and to let her be this close to him, to nudge and tease him, to bask in being his friend... It means more to her than she can say. She feels incredibly alone sometimes, drifting in as an Inquisitor with no one that knows her or recognises her, the weight of the world bearing down on her, but in this moment she feels safe. With Dorian at her side she feels as though nothing can threaten her, and she only hoes he feels even a little bit the same.
Snorting, she shakes her head, petulant and frowning all at once. ] I find I couldn't care at all what your father might think of the situation. Apologies, but he hardly made the best impression on me. [ She reaches out to touch his cheek gently, though, softening her words - Dorian's relationship with his father is confusing and complicated, and she doesn't want to upset him when, here, together, they're supposed to be relaxing, coming down from nightmares and battles and uncertainties.
She wishes, all the same, that he didn't have to hurt. That he didn't have to keep secrets. That he didn't have to feel as though he was alone. Leilani knows that she's here for him, but she isn't his; Dorian is going to go back to an Inquisitor that doesn't have her face but shares her story, and that makes something uncomfortable knot in her stomach.
His confusion makes her pause, her expression blank as she thinks back on what she said - and then her cheeks are flaming red, her eyes widening a little as she turns her head away. She's embarrassed, but only because she worries about the slip, about pushing too hard, about making him feel uncomfortable somehow in her own happiness and ease. ] Ma vhenas. It's elven. [ Clearly, and she frowns, turning her head to stare blankly at the ceiling. ] It means... 'My home'.
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Having difficulties sleeping as well?
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Something like that. I've been having some bad dreams.
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[ He motions to the room. ] Make yourself comfortable if you'd like.
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[ She doesn't go further into the room, instead stepping closer and reaching for his hand, to anchor herself. ]
Will you come with me?
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[ Excuse him, but he's just going to be very concerned for a moment before his expression is perfectly fine. ]
At least you are all right, now? [ And oh, how can he deny her request when she looks at him like that? He closes the distance between their hands, wrapping his around her smaller one. ]
Of course.
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[ All she can do is smile at him, gently, squeezing his hand and moving to shift closer. The urge to rest her forehead on his shoulder is incredible, but they're still learning how to be friends when she loved him so much and he had no idea who she was.
Her hand aches and she's tired, exhausted, with nightmares of Vieziei and Solas haunting her and making her feel sick to her stomach. ]
I'm not as bad as I have been.
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[ Stupid Inquisitors with their stupid heroism and sticking their necks out unnecessarily. Well.. He doesn't know that it was unnecessary, he hadn't been there. He has an inkling, though, that she did what she thought she had to. It's what most of them do.
Her hand squeezes his and he brushes his thumb lightly over her knuckles once. ]
I'm relieved. That was.. terrible, to say the least.
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[ But it took its toll on her. Her hand still hurts and she's still exhausted - the amount of magic she had used in the last few weeks, the amount of strain she put herself through, all because she wanted to help people. She's glad Dorian doesn't know most of it because she can imagine the tense, frowning judgement that would come.
When he brushes his thumb over her hand she feels as though she's going to fall apart. It's been weeks since she felt safe - not since waking up, since before finding Solas, since arriving at the Palace for the Exalted Council - but here, with Dorian holding on to her, she feels as though there's nothing for her to fear. ]
Dorian. [ She breathes out his name, closing his eyes. For a moment, her throat is tight. ] Did you know I'm dying?
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[ She looks exhausted, but not from magic use- this is a bone-deep exhaustion that seems to sap the life force. She needs rest, more of it than she's been getting; than she's probably had since they left. Of course there will be judgment, but that's his modus operandi. He judges because he's at a loss. He should have been there. What sort of companion is he that he let the Inquisitor go at this alone-- especially when something like blood rituals are involved??
There's silence, and then he feels his throat constrict and a leaden weight settles in his stomach. He hadn't known that. Dorian doesn't know Leilani as well as she knows him, but.. there's still a feeling of loss at the fact. Dying, and she's still saving people. The conversation mirrors one that he's had before. Far longer ago and even further away, but the feeling is so familiar, and it's one he has difficulty with.
Helplessness.
His mouth works to say something, but nothing comes up. His jaw clicks shut, teeth clenching together. ]
I-- [ Goodness, this is unbecoming of him. She's the one ailing, not him. He clears his throat, brow knitting together. ]
Can nothing be done?
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[ It is bone deep; it's years and years of being placed on a pedestal, it's months of working herself to the bone, of tracking agents of this and that and Qunari spies and spies of Fen'Harel only to find out that it all comes back to half of them tripping over the machinations of the her ex-lover, who was Fen'Harel himself. Learning the truth about Solas, about the loss of her vallaslin, about everything... It hurts. It's like her entire life has been destroyed and shattered by the revelations.
Lifting her head, she watches Dorian for a moment, feeling shame rush over her. She never wanted to hurt him or upset him, but she can't sit on this knowledge on her own for long. How many people realise the weight of the Anchor? How many people recognise that it's killing her? How long can she survive here? It's a question that has no real answer, and she bows her head. She loathes herself for putting all of this on a man who doesn't know her at all; he doesn't have the same feelings as the Dorian she knew. It wasn't fair.
Closing her eyes, she breathes out. ]
I need to have my arm removed or for Solas to appear and take care of it for me.
[ Neither options fill her with glee, but there's definitely one that's preferable. ]
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He should help her with it, especially if it means her life. Is that what had befallen Cyril as well? Is this the same fate his own Inquisitor will face? How much time does she have in this moment, and what ramifications will befall her for staying in this place? There are too many variables.. too many things that could go wrong. What made it different suddenly?
Even though he doesn't truly know her-- not like he should... it's still a melancholy sort of ache. Another version of himself may have to deal with the same thing. How will he react to the news? Does he even know? The air between them is heavy with uncertainties, and Dorian is at a loss for how to make it better. ]
How long do you have? [ He is building up his resolve, now. If that's what he has to do to ease her suffering? Well.. That's why she came to him with the topic again, isn't it? He won't deny her that if it's what she wants him to do. Leilani is still the Inquisitor. ]
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She feels awful. She didn't come here to tell him about her Anchor or her fate - she came here because she was scared and she wanted someone familiar. She wants to reach up and have him laugh with her, to tease her, to flirt and compliment the curve of her jaw or something about her mind, for things to go back to normal. She doesn't want to slip into dreams where she can't reach out to Solas, she doesn't want to remember the devastating pain of her Anchor exploding around her, making her want to tear her own limb away.
Shaking her head, she leans back, finally turning to look at him. Her sadness makes her stomach twist and she shakes her head, offering him a soft smile and her hand again, if he wants to come to her. There's no push, nothing that demands that he come to join her, nothing that should make him thing that it is an order. She isn't here as an Inquisitor or as a Keeper - she's here as someone who needed a friend and had no one else. Dorian might not know her, but he is everything in this moment. ]
I don't think I'm going to die here. It may be that there are no measures that need to be taken. It only hurts sometimes, but I can survive it. It has been my burden for years anyway. [ Lifting a shoulder, she tries to be nonchalant. ] I didn't come here for this, truly, Dorian. I came because I couldn't sleep.
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You shouldn't have to hurt at all. [ That would be the ideal, wouldn't it? He knows that his own Inquisitor has the occasional flair up, but he's not aware of how bad it actually is. It must be an Inquisitor inclination not to over share what is going on. ]
I anticipated as much when you asked whether or not I was awake. I bring out the dramatic side to most people.
[ Trying to lighten the mood??? ]
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This isn't the same person she shared wine with or cornered in a library, the man she called brave, nor is it the man she stood beside in an uncertain future they needed to change. He has no idea who she is, at her core, and yet he holds onto her anyway, seeking her sadness and attempting to push it away. That's who he is, and she's never adored him more than she does in this single moment. ]
No one should have to hurt, but that's not how our world works.
[ She does laugh, though, tilting her head up to watch him fondly, a gentleness settling around her. Her fingers squeeze his hand and she shifts, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles in a mirror image of what he had done for her earlier. Breathing out, she closes her eyes, trying to relax. ]
You bring out the best side of people too, you know.
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She grasps at his hand, her head pillowed on his thigh. Tan fingers find their way into her hair, carding through her soft locks and dragging against her scalp lightly. He didn't know how much he needed to see her smile until she gets that fond look on her face. ]
No, it's not at all.. [ Suffering is the native sound of Thedas and right now, he feels it. His heart squeezes almost painfully in his chest. What is it about the Dalish Inquisitors that they feel the need to wound him in the best ways? Her thumb strokes over his knuckles and his heart swells. ]
That sentiment will depend entirely upon who you talk to.
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Leilani is desperate for some kind of comfort now and even though she doesn't voice it Dorian is there, reaching back for her and lifting a hand to touch at her hair. He strokes his fingers against her scalp and she relaxes, sighing a soft noise and resting her cheek on his leg, leaning closer and holding onto him. This is her anchor, she thinks. It doesn't matter how far she goes when she has someone to come back to - someone who will make her laugh, who lightens her heart, who doesn't shoo her out when the nightmares drag her courage from her. Dorian is someone who reaches back, and it makes her heart pang in the most wonderful of ways. ]
It could be worse. I could be listening to Mother Giselle again.
[ It's a tease, and she brings his knuckle to her mouth, leaving a soft kiss there before she pushes herself up. Then she's settled on his bed, wrapping her arms around him and holding on tight, squeezing him and letting her fingers grasp - gently, she knows how he is - at his shirt. He's warm and feels like home, and Leilani feels happy for the first time in a while, even with the haunting reminder of her nightmares prickling in the back of her mind. ]
Consider me on the side of 'Dorian Pavus is wonderful'. [ A fond smile, and her forehead moves to nudge his gently. ] Ar dhrua ma, lethallin.
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The jab makes him huff in laughter, shaking his head. ] You're right, listening to that crone is a punishment in itself.
[ There's no way he could adore her more, and it worries him. Her arms are around him and he returns the gesture, his own coming around her back. She squeezes a bit too tight, his still-healing ribs screaming in protest. His grip on her tightens, and he absolutely doesn't make a noise of discomfort, just clearing his throat. This is an emotional moment and he's floored.
Dorian's grasp on Elvish is definitely lacking, but there's one word he knows enough from hearing it often. Lethallin. His hand moves to the back of her neck, giving it a light squeeze in return. ]
A small club, but a humbling one.
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In moments like this, though, she can't find any reason why she can argue some kind of happiness. Wrapped up with Dorian, with a friend she would never have met otherwise - he in Tevinter and her in the Dales with her clan - she knows she made the right choice. Even when her mind floods with bright green dreams and a solemn, careful voice stalks her through the Fade she knows she has chosen right. She would never choose to give up any of them, not for a moment. Any pain was worth bearing if it means she could hear Bull and the chargers laughing, Blackwall carving quietly, Vivienne and Cassandra sniping... Dorian reading aloud and scoffing at the ridiculousness of the books.
She'd choose them. Every single time. In any world, in any place, at any cost, she would choose them. ]
Your ears would fall off and then we've have to get you prosthetics. It would be a terrible shame.
[ She is not blind, however, and she notices the shift, the cough, and her eyes narrow before she shakes her head. Shifting, she moves back and settles higher on the bed, taking Dorian's hand and tugging gently. He might not be in the mood to lie down but she's not going to have him lounging and embracing her when, clearly, he is suffering something. Her lips twist down into a frown and she tilts her head, wanting to draw him close but being afraid to hurt him more. ]
I'd gladly lead the club, if I am permitted. [ Then, softer; ] Come and lie with me. Just for a few hours, then I will give you some peace.
[ Expression gentle, she just waits. It's up to Dorian to make himself comfortable or not; she just wants him to have his pain eased. ]
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[ After a few moments of reluctance, Dorian nods in agreement, moving up on the bed so they can stretch out under the layers of blankets. He can see the request for what it is, even if she doesn't voice it. He is grateful that she isn't fussing, at least. There are others who ended up worse than he did, and he's perfectly fine healing naturally- even if it's rather tiresome and long-winded.
Once he's settled next to her, he huffs in amusement. ]
You're the first woman that's managed to get me into bed. [ It's not an uncomfortable thing by any means, merely a humorous observation. If he weren't comfortable with Leilani, he wouldn't have conceded to her request. ]
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[ But he moves, at least, and for a moment Leilani wonders just how comfortable he is - is he doing this because he wants to, or because he feels obligated? Then she feels a spark of foolishness. No one can make Dorian Pavus do something he doesn't want to do, not really, and that's not something she expects her to be somehow above. If he didn't want to settle down with her then he'd have told her to go back to her room or something of the like.
He'd tell her to shove off, and it makes her smile even in her own mind.
Settling, she breathes out, relaxing a tiny bit as she turns to face him. ]
I am? [ It doesn't surprise her, not really, even as platonic as they are. Shaking her head, she nudges him gently. ] Don't go telling the whole fleet, ma vhenas.
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I don't know whether my father would be proud, or horrified that we've come full circle. [ Probably at least thankful it was a woman in his bed and not another one of the men on his laundry list of liaisons. The fact that they were elves may take away some of that pride. Not that there's much to be had, but Dorian's past the point of caring much about that anymore.
He smiles fondly at the nudge, adjusting himself so he can lay more on the side that hurts a bit less, arm under the pillow. ] As it happens, I am marvelous at keeping secrets. [ Ah, that's a phrase he doesn't know, and the confusion shows on his face. ]
You'll have to tell me what that one means.
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Snorting, she shakes her head, petulant and frowning all at once. ] I find I couldn't care at all what your father might think of the situation. Apologies, but he hardly made the best impression on me. [ She reaches out to touch his cheek gently, though, softening her words - Dorian's relationship with his father is confusing and complicated, and she doesn't want to upset him when, here, together, they're supposed to be relaxing, coming down from nightmares and battles and uncertainties.
She wishes, all the same, that he didn't have to hurt. That he didn't have to keep secrets. That he didn't have to feel as though he was alone. Leilani knows that she's here for him, but she isn't his; Dorian is going to go back to an Inquisitor that doesn't have her face but shares her story, and that makes something uncomfortable knot in her stomach.
His confusion makes her pause, her expression blank as she thinks back on what she said - and then her cheeks are flaming red, her eyes widening a little as she turns her head away. She's embarrassed, but only because she worries about the slip, about pushing too hard, about making him feel uncomfortable somehow in her own happiness and ease. ] Ma vhenas. It's elven. [ Clearly, and she frowns, turning her head to stare blankly at the ceiling. ] It means... 'My home'.
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