RP: Aria (lavellanfadewalk) ((NSFW content further down))

[blackwall_fadewalk]

Skyhold. He was back in- but the sky…

Sometimes Sera had the absolute right of it. Fucking magic shite.

Blackwall sighed, choking up a tad on the bit of chair leg. There was the feeling of Darkspawn or other Wardens in the distance. Supposed to be someday he’d be able to tell the difference. Didn’t do him much good now.

The hold was empty. Not even wind to make the trees move. Like the air just before the storm broke. Unsettling.

He paced along the battlements one foot at a time. No one else around ‘less they were sneakier than him. Not like that was hard. His Warden armour made enough noise to cover a snowfleur’s approach. The next tower was the one the Inquisitor had refitted for the Mages. Couldn’t hurt to have a quick look. Some mageling may have hid in there and could tell him what in the Blighted Void was going on.

The west door opened with only a small creak.

Comments

[blackwall_fadewalk]

“Oh? She heckle you about that, then? Would it be a bad time to mention that your Barriers always gave me the willies?” He smiled to show he was teasing. Though he hadn’t always been fine about magic, at least he’d never had to deal with Bull’s levels of discomfort. “I don’t mind talking about it. Magic and shite, as Sera would say. Just don’t understand it. So I end up asking fool questions and then Dorian or Solas or Madame de Fer or someone looks down their nose at me.”

He rolled his eyes with feeling. “Least you never did that. You tease, but you don’t make a man feel like a child for not knowing a thing.” Blackwall stretched his legs out under the table. Slouched down in his chair a smidge. Pulled his second mug over to the edge of the table.

“Shame of it is, I know you’d answer if I had a question for you. But damned if I can think of one now.” And not like she’d want to know anything about what he did. Swords and shields, woodcarving and angles. Not much use to an Inquisitor. Not much use to anyone.

[lavellanfadewalk]

"Dalish mages are very different from Circle mages, or Solas, since he doesn't fit in any group. A Keeper is a mage trained to serve the clan, their kin, to keep alive our culture and our history. We can't mock people over things they don't know, otherwise they won't come after us for guidance. Deshanna taught us it so we could look after the other mages, keep them safe for themselves and for everyone else, through knowledge. We never had any problems with abominations, so I guess her methods were good."

And she took another sip of ale, staring Blackwall in silence for a few seconds, clearly thinking about something. "I have a question for you. More like a stupid request. Very stupid." she warned, before going on "See, elves don't have beards, they simply don't grow any. May I... touch your beard? It's so... beautiful. I promise I won't pull it." Okay, now she was blushing and making stupid requests. Damn ale.

[blackwall_fadewalk]

He can’t help the smile. But he won’t laugh. She’d take it wrong. But that might be the most adorable thing she’d ever said to him. Blackwall wasn’t stone hearted enough not to be flattered and a little charmed.

So he got up and moved his drink out of the way. Leaned halfway across the table and braced his elbows against it so he’s close enough for her to reach. But wait. He held up a finger and leaned back a little, finger combing through his beard to make sure it’s sat right. Resettled the streaks of grey around his mouth into order. Made sure the two points were even at the ends. Then, just to be a prat, he fiddled with his sideburns so she’d have to wait a little longer.

He resettled back on his elbows, arms folded together and out of her way. “Alright then. And you can pull it a little, if you like. Make sure it’s properly grown and not a fake.” His smile faltered. Bit of a loaded word that. Well done old man.

[lavellanfadewalk]

Aria clapped her hands together, joyful, sitting properly on her chair before standing up, almost unable to wait until he was done with his combing. She sits in the table edge then, reaching for his beard with both hands; her fingers runs through the strands for some time, feeling its touch, far rougher than the touch of hair, but surprisingly fluffy too. She smiles, without noticing she's doing it, her light blue eyes huge with fascination.

"I must say... this is a dream coming true. Since I first saw you in the Hinterlands, I've been thinking about it. 'How must it feel like?'... and the color! How come this is almost perfectly symmetric!?"

She was referring to the gray strands, focusing on it now. Thing is, while focusing on his beard, she lost track of how she was invading his personal space, so close she would feel the warmth of his body if she wasn't totally focused on something else. Her thumbs reaches for the beard line close to his cheekbones, pads feeling the texture there.

[blackwall_fadewalk]

So Lavellan’s a giggly drunk, then. Not that she’s properly drunk yet, but. Good to know.

It’s always an odd feeling, someone else touching his beard. He adjusted though. Focused on her eyes, her smile. It’s a simple thing, but her enthusiasm is catching. He’s smiling back at her and can feel the hairs pull through her fingers when he does.

“You’ve been dreaming about my beard? Did you use that line on Dorian as well? Not that he’d ever let anyone at his precious lip-worm.” That was a terrible insult. Definitely take that one back to the drawing board. “Has a bit of brown in it, bit of black. Sometimes a bit of red, when the sun catches it right. Otherwise just comes from time and stress. Same thing as the rest of my hair.”

He was about to start complaining about her messing with the evenness when he realized how close she'd gotten. Her thumbs rubbed over his cheeks, going with the grain of the hair. Practically cradling his face. Her eyes were close enough he could see each different shade of blue in them. He could smell the ale on her breath, and under that something like Elfroot and spice and air just before a lightning strike.

Oh. Maker’s balls. He’d thought he was past this. Keep your dirty old paws to yourself. She doesn’t want them. He closed his eyes and started to take a deep breath. Realized that was a terrible idea and started breathing through his mouth instead.

[lavellanfadewalk]

"Dorian is handsome for a shemlen, I'll give him that much. I'm almost convinced he grooms his hair with magic." She narrowed her eyes at the thought, as if sharing some deep theory about the other mage. "Now this... this is..."

Aria cut out her own speech, noticing her heart racing for the first time. Blackwall was so close; not close was they had been in the war room just earlier. This close felt almost... intimate. His eyes were like hers, crystal clear, but the shade of blue was slightly more gray than her own. Gray. The sides of his hair had a bit more of gray too, now that she was thinking of it. But the smell of wood, metal and something more muskier were the same and that felt good, suited for his handsome appearance. Not like Dorian, not at all! But handsome, regardless.

She closed the distance between them. She wasn't drunk. Aria knew exactly what she was doing, or thought so. Her heart beat was hammering inside her chest, the reason why she felt so guilty about sending him to the Wardens becoming a little clearer now. She bent to plant a chaste kiss to his lips, a hand resting sofly over his shoulder as the other remained over his cheek.

[blackwall_fadewalk]

“This is what?” He prompted, trying not to drown in her eyes and miserably failing. Didn’t feel like misery, though. Not a thing like it. “Less primped? Rougher? Real?”

But she didn’t answer. Just kept looking back at him because he was a clod who wouldn’t stop staring. And then she was moving nearer, and her eyes dropped to look at his lips, and.

Oh.

Oh…

Well. Maybe she wouldn’t mind his paws.

He doesn’t reach out for her, though. Lets Lavellan decide exactly what she wants. And when she leans in that last little bit he tips his head to the side just a touch to accommodate.

Damn.

She’s so soft. Lips, hands, her eyelashes brush his cheek and they’re soft as well. He presses back gently, heart in his throat and hands clenched on the tabletop. He’ll take no more than she’s willing to give, and not force anything on her. But damn. Damn.

Eventually they pull back from each other. This time he inhales through his nose as deeply as he wants. Her scent sends a curl of warmth through him, but the overtones of ale hold him back.

“Alright?” He asks her chin.

[lavellanfadewalk]

Aria opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. His kiss was gentle, so gentle it made her heart ache. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead over his, noses brushing. She was a terrible person, playing with his life like that.

"I'm sorry. I'm a terrible woman." she shook her head without breaking their touch, a hand still cupping his cheek "I should've acted like a proper Inquisitor when I took for me the responsibility of judging you. Instead, I acted like a vengeful foolish girl, risked your life only to inflict you the pain you had caused me. A pain you never thought could be there because I was too afraid to admit it myself." she chuckled, weakly "And now I act like a foolish girl again, crying over the decision I made, complaining people leaves when I'm the one pushing them away. You deserve better than this."

[blackwall_fadewalk]

She leaned her head against his and Blackwall closed his eyes in order to savor it. Her weight against him made him feel stronger, somehow. The ticklish brush of her little nose against his made him huff a laugh. It felt peaceful, being like this with her.

And then she called herself terrible. He watched her lips, trying to make sense of this. He listened to her guilt. He felt the air get knocked out of him when he realized.

Reached up, pressed her hand to his cheek and leaned into it. “No I don’t. I’m an arrogant tit, and a murderer of children, and a thief and a liar and a mess. Only thing I deserve is death.”

“Instead you gave me everything I ever dreamed of. And you made me earn it.” He wrapped his hand around hers. Thick, calloused, clumsy fingers around powerful and dainty ones. “You had every right to be angry. I expected you to hate me. Still do, if I’m honest.”

“I can’t speak for the others. But I don’t think they wanted to leave you. Just, life gets in the way.” A crooked smile pulled at his mouth. “This? Being here, with you, right now. It’s a gift. I’m glad to have it, so long as you’ll let me.”

[lavellanfadewalk]

'I'm glad to have it, so long as you'll let me.'
His words were undoing her. Aria never thought someone would make her feel so many feelings at once, putting her heart on the edge. A gift, he said. Could they be more foolish than it, both thinking so ill of themselves and so highly of the other? A chuckle escaped her mouth.

"I want you to have it." she nuzzled his nose "Everything."

Aria pulled away to see him better, running her free hand all way through his hair until rest it on the back of his head, bending to kiss him again, more passionate this time.

[blackwall_fadewalk]

Everything.

Maker.

She could have it. Whatever she wanted. Whatever she asked of him. Everything.

He surged up against her, standing so suddenly his back popped. No matter. One hand held hers tight and the other cradled her jaw, holding her like she was precious. Her lips against his, her scent of Elfroot and spice and lightning-cracked sky filled his nose, and the feel of her skin against his fingers was perfect.

She was perfect.

She should know that. He pulled away and mumbled it against her cheek, her forehead, her lips as he kissed her. A litany of “Perfect, perfect, perfect.” His hand drifted down her neck to rest at where it joined her shoulder. Her pulse thundered under her skin, vivid and alive.

[lavellanfadewalk]

She couldn't help but giggle with his kisses, a little surprised to have it inside her. Perfect. Aria held a snark comment about how perfect she would look blabbering with the voices inside her head; for once, she wouldn't spoil everything with her sarcasm.

Another kiss, and she wrapped her hands around his waist, resting her cheek on the curve of his neck, intoxicated with his scent.

"If I only knew all I needed was to be lost in the Fade in order to open my heart to you, I would've done it a long time ago."

[blackwall_fadewalk]

He moved enough so that the table wasn’t in the way and relaxed into her hold. Wrapped his arms around her shoulders, but with care she didn’t get poked by his armour. He could feel her voice vibrating in him when she spoke, and he pressed a kiss into her hair. “It’s too bad Adamant wasn’t enough. Could’ve saved ourselves a fair bit of time. Suppose we weren’t lost enough then.”

Her heart. Damn. His felt near to bursting. Any second he’d open his eyes and wake up back in Weisshaupt. It was foolish, but he still kept his eyes shut as she let him hold her. Anything to make this last.

[lavellanfadewalk]

"I don't know... could've made the Nightmare Demon jealous of you, since it was so eager to be so close."

She thought of planting a kiss to his neck, finding his armor most annoying for being on her way. She planted a sound kiss to his ear instead, tucking a few rebel strands behind his ear before pulling away, taking his hand on hers.

"Thank you for not rejecting me, that would've been awkward." she grinned, kissing his knuckles.

[blackwall_fadewalk]

And now he was thinking about a giant deformed spider-shaped demon trying to cuddle Aria.

His shoulders shook as he laughed too hard for noise. Barely pulled himself back together before the smack of her kiss echoed in his ear. He squeezed her hand and resisted the urge to try to flutter his eyelashes at her gesture. Last thing he needed was for her to think he was having a stroke.

“Thank you for accepting me, such as I am. Now, and all the times before. I don’t have the words to express my gratitude.” He pulled their clasped hand to him. Bowed low in a courtly manner. Pressed his lips to her knuckles as she had to his. Lingered over her hand, and looked up at her with everything he didn’t dare say.

[lavellanfadewalk]

A fond smile blossomed and lit her face, her free hand coming to caress his cheek. "You inspired me to be the best I could be. I don't even know how many times I thought of running away, before Corypheus threw his archdemon in my face. I was alone, knew nothing about shemlen religion and the idea of becoming a symbol as Herald of Andraste frightened me. Still does, actually. But every time I thought of running away, I remembered the sacrifice made by the Wardens. Five Blights, all of which facing horrors no one should. And I, complaining of few rifts pouring demons, with half of the world by my side. I couldn't do less."

Aria pulled him closer. "This, and my utter wish to touch your beard, of course."

[blackwall_fadewalk]

Sacrifices of the Wardens. Which he hadn’t been. At most he was a shield at her back, a sword at her side. He’d lied, through his teeth, about things he hadn’t even known. A fraud, a fake. He’d stolen Gordon Blackwall’s life. The life of a good and righteous man. Paraded around in it like a costume. As though Thom Rainier could be more than what he was.

And out of his pile of bullshit, she’d grown something great. She’d stood strong, and proud, and pulled the whole of Orlais up by it’s sodding collar and given it a good shake. He was nothing, compared to that. Didn’t mind it one bit.

And then she made him laugh again. Get your head out your arse old man, the lady should have all your attention. “The truth at last. Now I understand why the Maker put me in your path. Beardly inspiration.” And he went at her chin-first, trying to rub it in her face.

[lavellanfadewalk]

She yelped with surprise, but leaned to the touch, giddy. Her hands rested over his chest plate, the armor again frustrating her touch.

"My darkest secret, revealed."

And out of the playful motion, she captured his lips again in a more demanding kiss, needy even, head tilting and lips parting. Her heart never stopped hammering against her ribs, but his scent, his warm hands and Creators, his voice! She felt warmer, and she knew it had nothing related to the ale.

[blackwall_fadewalk]

His hands ran up her sides slowly, settling around on her shoulder blades. Her staff bumped against his fingers. Her mouth was captivating, the slick slide of it seemed to throw sparks in him. Heat curled in his gut and made his heart beat double-time. He matched her need easily, pressing into her, wanting everything she gave.

Slow down old man, you’re in the fucking tavern. For the Maker’s sake! Aria deserved better than a quick rut against a table. He pulled away to heave in a breath. Collected himself enough to realize that his hands had come to rest just above the curve of her arse. Getting ahead of yourself, thinking like that.

“You undo me, my lady.” He tried to warn her. If she kept giving of herself, he would just take, and take, and take.

[lavellanfadewalk]

Praise the Creators! His warm hands over her curves, steady, wanting, were sending shivers down her spine. She had a mischievous smile on her face, nuzzling his ear.

"Right now I'm more concerned about undoing your armor."

Aria nearly purred. Nope. Not the tavern. Wooden tables had always the best ways to make you regret not looking for a better place, in her experience. She stood, taking his hand and tugging him back to the main building, If memory served well, there was plenty of nice, vacant rooms in the guest wing.

[blackwall_fadewalk]

Maker’s hairy ballsack. He was blushing, he could feel it. At least she wasn’t looking. He coughed and held on while she practically dragged him out of the Herald’s Rest. He looked up to the top of the keep, where he knew her bedroom was. Well. Getting to go lots of places today he’d never gotten to before.

You dirty old fuck. Blackwall nearly slapped himself for that. As it was, he wasn’t paying attention, and by the time Aria had pulled him to an unknown door he was too distracted by her smirk to care. “Not going to your quarters then, I take it?” He asked as he gave her hand a squeeze. Maker, her hands were gorgeous. Fine, long fingers with calluses from wielding a staff.

And he was blushing again. There was going to be no escape from his dirty thoughts, was there?

[lavellanfadewalk]

"The other Inquisitor got there first." she shrugged, simply; she had picked one of the largest rooms for dignitaries, one that, if memory served her well, she had complained about the expensive improvements. Ironic. The place was beautiful, though, even if slightly too Orlesian for her taste.

Aria closed the door behind them with a soft click, staring Blackwall in silence for a few seconds, blue eyes darkening with her want. Closing the distance between them, she laid a hand over his cheek, a fond smile curving her lips, fingers caressing his face, memorizing the sensation of his skin under her touch. The grains of his beard, the skin marked by time, emotions and weather. She stood on the tip of her toes to kiss him; slowly, coaxing his mouth to open for her and despite the passion of it there was also reverence, something deeper than pure lust.

The lust was there, oh it was. How one hand found its way through the armor's side, gripping the fabric to pull him closer. The soft, involuntary noises dripping from her lips clashing over his. The fingers scrapping the base of his neck.

[blackwall_fadewalk]

“Would be poor manners then, to use it. Shame. Always was curious.” He shivered under her touch. Felt like magic, stupid as it was to think. Her thighs brushed against his, knees knocked together. Damn. Her lips consumed him, pressing, demanding, taking, conquering. The sound of her gasping burned through his chest, set him on fucking fire.

He leaned away, heaving for air, wrestled his shield off and threw it in the general direction of the bed. Straps came loose, layers of silverite thrown off, gambeson removed and all his armour chucked out of the way so he could get back to her. One arm around her waist, the other in her hair, her fucking glorious hair. He ran his fingers through, slowly, wanting to feel every bit of it, of her. Happened to brush against her ear and she made a noise. A noise that. That...

“Bloody Void, my lady,” He breathed against her cheek. Needed a moment to collect himself.

He’d heard rumors, about elves and their ears. Sensitive. Very sensitive. He pressed a hungry kiss to her jaw and put his ear beside her mouth. He wanted to hear her. Ran his thumb from the lobe slowly, slowly up to the tip, pinched it. Tugged.

[lavellanfadewalk]

Aria trembled, mouth falling slightly agape with a low, soft moan. His calloused fingers working on her earshell were slowly draining her reasoning, knees almost giving up, arms with a funny, tingling sensation. Desire boiled past her navel, breath catching on her throat at each new gesture of his fingers. The feeling was delicious, enticing. Just like her moans and sighs.

She wanted, needed to feel more of him, desperately, hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt so she could reach his chest, nails lightly scrapping their way up from his sides. But not only skin. She also needed pressure, friction, her hips rolling against his, following the motion of his fingers.

All of sudden, she snapped out of his touch, fumbling with the buttons of her own vest now, desperate to get rid of the clothing layers keeping them apart. She fought briefly with the straps of her trousers and toed her boots off. All that was left, aside from her undergarments, was a simple loose undershirt. She was panting when she stopped to look at him, eyes even darker now.

[blackwall_fadewalk]

The sounds she made went straight to his head. She wobbled and he caught her, held her close. Felt all of her pressed so sweet and tight up against him. Her blunt nails felt sharp against his sides, like lightning, like pure heat. She pushed back, perfect pressure against his hips and his head fell back against the door with a loud thunk and a groan.

And then she was gone.

He reached for her, but she was too busy, pulling frantically at her clothes. She wanted him that much? All that frustration, all that passion, for him? He fell back against the door again, trying to breathe. Watched her shed her layers, watched her make herself vulnerable. Maker, look at her skin. He swallowed so he wouldn’t drool all over the floor.

Her eyes were… Andraste wept, were there words for it? Heat, want, caring, hunger. So fucking hungry. She’d eat him right up. A shudder raced up his spine, his hands trembled a little as he undid the buckles on his boots and toed them off. Only shirt, trou, socks and smalls left, but damned if he didn’t feel naked under her gaze.

“Sit, please.” He motioned to the bed. Stepped in close just to feel the heat coming off her. His face was doing something sappy, he knew, but couldn’t bring himself to care. Too busy leaning in, kissing her softly, backing her up until he felt her meet the edge of the overly-fluffy monstrosity.