Simplicity Part I
Night had fallen over the camp and the moon hung high in the sky. The fire was still crackling as it worked its way through the last of the fading embers. The only other sound was the occasional roaring belch or ripping flatulence from Oghren. The feisty dwarf had drunk himself into a coma and was curled up next to the fire, the location of his pants unknown.
The Warden carefully stepped over his snoozing companion to tend to the dying fire, chucking a few more logs on. The rest of the camp had long turned in for the night but he found he himself could not sleep. His mind was too worried, too stressed; what had happened today still didn't sit well with him.
The Warden closed his eyes, sighing haggardly.
The fire started to rumble back to life and he stepped back over
Rather UnexpectedWell-Woven Net, Knot 1: Rather UnexpectedRather Unexpected5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"You do realize this is probably a trap, right?" Alistair murmured as the companions followed the distressed woman who had begged them for help.
"Could be." Alessar glanced sidelong at his fellow Grey Warden. "If it is, we're ready for it. If it's not, then someone honestly needs help."
"Does this altruism really pay all that well?" Morrigan said in the bored, disparaging tone that she used when she was irritated. "Grey Wardens -- roaming the countryside, finding lost children, fixing broken wagon axles and solving marriage disputes. It's all so very noble."
Alessar ignored the woman's pointed remarks. She seldom saw the value in doing what the others considered "the right thing" for the sake of one's conscience. Of course, she had a point, sometimes, and they did have more important tasks, but this was right in their path, after all.
Dragon Age: Origins - LoveDragon Age: OriginsDragon Age: Origins - Love4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Zevran Aranai/(Any gender) PC
Zevran ponders the meaning of love as he finally starts understanding just how love works.
What is this word that my Grey Warden seems able to use at almost anything of pleasure?
This word that seemingly can be as weak as an infant or as strong as the mightiest of dragons?
What is that?
My Grey Warden uses it for many things.
Claims of loving the forest, loving the rain. The times spent outside together, breathing the air (even as heavily scented by the smell of wet dog as it is) and wandering the forest, just talking and indulging in activities of love.
My Grey Warden also loves well-roasted boar-meat and the sweet wine introduced to us from the Tranquil mages in the Tower of Magi.
But what puzzles me is that my Grey Warden also claims to love me more than anything in this world. That I am the most important thing in the life my love lives and something that cannot be lost without inflicting my lover great pain.
And I th
Confessions of the Worst KindA Dragon Age: Origins fan-fictionConfessions of the Worst Kind4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Zevran/Grey Warden (m/m)
A pair of sea-green eyes stared upwards, right eye twitching slightly as the young elf glared up at Sten. The Qunari just stared emotionlessly back down at him, dark eyes betraying nothing but a low contempt for the much too small elf before him.
The two did not speak a word, only stared at each other Well, the Elvin warrior glared up at his comrade, but still...
"What is it you wish of me, Grey Warden?" The low voice made the small elf all the angrier. No matter how much he poked or prodded this stupid Qunari, he couldn't get a reaction! Now could he get the idiot to like him! For Maker's sake, he had admitted the filthy Mabari Yivon was a warrior! Was Sten racist or something?!
"Sinon, just walk away." The elf glanced over as Alistair walked past, chuckling to himself as he bit into the meager dinner he had been given. "You know you're not going to get a reaction out of him. Go flirt with Zevran."
Sinon sighed, rolling
How. DAII END SPOILERHow. DAII END SPOILER3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Ashes from the burning chantry remains dance their way across the courtyard, ticking off the seconds, minutes of silence, before it is finally broken by a small, choked voice that can wait in silence no more.
"You hate me right now, don't you? You want to make me hurt, make me suffer; pay for what I've done. And yet, somehow, I'm under your skin. Unbidden, I have crept into the deepest parts of you until until you cannot conceive of a world without me in it. And you hate me all the more for it."
The dagger at the speaker's back pauses. The hand holding it shakes.
"Ask me how I know."
Cortland Hawke bites down hard on his lower lip as his fingers twitch on the knife's hilt. Is it to stop his mouth from answering the question? As blood is drawn from the wounds his teeth inflict he realises that, no, he just needed to feel something. Slight though it is, the pain is something different. It's not here. It's not this.
The blond head in front of him is dipped. Long, white, sha