Mᴏʀʀɪɢᴀɴ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wildness) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
museboxings2013-08-07 08:59 pm
wildness) wrote in museboxings2013-08-07 08:59 pm
let your instincts break the rules
[It is an excellent thing, sometimes, that their group is always so busy. When night falls and they have struck their tents, too many of them are exhausted enough to tarry long around the fire. There is the occasional night when Leliana strikes up a story or one of the others insists on discussion, the Warden often chiming in to discuss strategies, their path, and the morning's journey. Morrigan most often keeps to herself at her end of camp, making what she wills and reading from the tomes they often pick up on their journey.
Tonight is no different: most of the others retire to their tents early - all save Sten - and she offers to take first watch. The Qunari is more than willing to give her a wide berth and so she is granted more privacy than she needs, lucky her. There is enough for her to dwell on in the wake of the possession of the Arl's son, the battle at Redcliffe, and their early morning's march that will take them to their next destination.
The castle had been quaint and full of memories of Alistair, many of which he provided for them. In the wake of such horrors, she supposes he cannot be blamed for withdrawing. It does not give her much reason to continue to contemplate the situation nor on him. It is a weakness, she tells herself, because these are not feelings. There is a purpose to all of this. One day, she will have to implore the Warden to make a choice and Alistair will be part of it. He is a piece of the whole - a small piece, she reminds herself - and that is it.
It is a shame. For all that he infuriates her, he has his good qualities. It's that mouth she hates most of all. With a sigh, she goes back to her book, stoking the fire at her side the wave of a hand.]
Tonight is no different: most of the others retire to their tents early - all save Sten - and she offers to take first watch. The Qunari is more than willing to give her a wide berth and so she is granted more privacy than she needs, lucky her. There is enough for her to dwell on in the wake of the possession of the Arl's son, the battle at Redcliffe, and their early morning's march that will take them to their next destination.
The castle had been quaint and full of memories of Alistair, many of which he provided for them. In the wake of such horrors, she supposes he cannot be blamed for withdrawing. It does not give her much reason to continue to contemplate the situation nor on him. It is a weakness, she tells herself, because these are not feelings. There is a purpose to all of this. One day, she will have to implore the Warden to make a choice and Alistair will be part of it. He is a piece of the whole - a small piece, she reminds herself - and that is it.
It is a shame. For all that he infuriates her, he has his good qualities. It's that mouth she hates most of all. With a sigh, she goes back to her book, stoking the fire at her side the wave of a hand.]