A Nightingale in Sunshine 1/?
anonymous
January 31 2012, 03:12:41 UTC
(I'm not very good with WiPs, so if anyone wants to write their own version don't let me stop you. But here's a start)
Bethany nearly didn’t notice her. The Chantry sister was bathed in shadow, a smudge of orange and cream beneath the tree in the Chantry courtyard.
“Sister!” said Bethany urgently. “Sister, what are you doing? The darkspawn are coming! You should get inside the Chantry with the others!”
The sister looked up from her reverie. She seemed to have been staring at a rosebush, where a single rose bloomed incongruously against a mass of dried up brown branches covered in thorns. She had a small pale face framed by vibrant orange hair in a boyish cut, Bethany might have mistaken her for a young girl were it not for the look of wearied sorrow in her pale blue eyes.
“What use is there?” said the sister. She had a sweet voice and an Orlesian accent, it was strange to hear so far south of the coast. “The Maker gave me a task and I have failed in it. If I am to die, I would rather it be out here surrounded by flowers than in some crowded building surrounded by fear.”
Bethany was going to protest, but had to admit that what she said made a certain amount of sense. Carver and Marian had gotten their fill of darkspawn at Ostagar, and had seemed quite certain that anyone remaining in Lothering was doomed, whether they hid inside or not. But she couldn’t just leave this woman here to die.
“Then…do neither,” she said quickly, before she had a chance to think better of it. “Come with my family and me and escape. My brother and sister are soldiers, and I’m…” Was it unsafe to admit to her magic even now? The habits of a lifetime won out. “I’m not as useless as I look. Surely the Maker would not wish you to throw your life away unnecessarily.”
The sister looked at Bethany in surprise and stared at her for a long moment. “Yes,” she said, her expression lightening. “If you are willing to let me come then I will follow you. Perhaps this is the Maker’s will. And I am not as useless as I look either.” She smiled, and Bethany had the rather shallow thought that it would be nice to have someone to look at other than her family during the trip, especially someone so pretty.
“Oh, I am glad to hear it!” said Bethany. “My name is Bethany Hawke, I’ll introduce you to my mother and Carver and Marian when we meet up with them.” Assuming they didn’t get angry at Bethany for being so impractical and refuse to let this woman come along. But surely they would take pity on a woman of the Chant. “Um…but do you need to grab anything? We’re leaving very soon, I was just looking for supplies.” Bethany held up the sack she was carrying and gave a weak smile. “I hope you like turnips, because that’s all I could find.”
The sister stood up and dusted off her robes, revealing a small bag that she’d been using a cushion while she rested against the tree. She really was quite small, maybe even slightly shorter than Bethany. “My name is Leliana,” she said, “And I have been ready to leave for some time, although this is not quite how I imagined I would be leaving. Let us go and meet this family of yours, Bethany Hawke.”
Re: A Nightingale in Sunshine 1/? - OP
anonymous
January 31 2012, 09:15:39 UTC
Thanks, I'm glad you like it! I adore the prompt, I've never tried writing for a kink meme before and was worried I wouldn't find anything inspiring, but this is a great idea.
Bethany nearly didn’t notice her. The Chantry sister was bathed in shadow, a smudge of orange and cream beneath the tree in the Chantry courtyard.
“Sister!” said Bethany urgently. “Sister, what are you doing? The darkspawn are coming! You should get inside the Chantry with the others!”
The sister looked up from her reverie. She seemed to have been staring at a rosebush, where a single rose bloomed incongruously against a mass of dried up brown branches covered in thorns. She had a small pale face framed by vibrant orange hair in a boyish cut, Bethany might have mistaken her for a young girl were it not for the look of wearied sorrow in her pale blue eyes.
“What use is there?” said the sister. She had a sweet voice and an Orlesian accent, it was strange to hear so far south of the coast. “The Maker gave me a task and I have failed in it. If I am to die, I would rather it be out here surrounded by flowers than in some crowded building surrounded by fear.”
Bethany was going to protest, but had to admit that what she said made a certain amount of sense. Carver and Marian had gotten their fill of darkspawn at Ostagar, and had seemed quite certain that anyone remaining in Lothering was doomed, whether they hid inside or not. But she couldn’t just leave this woman here to die.
“Then…do neither,” she said quickly, before she had a chance to think better of it. “Come with my family and me and escape. My brother and sister are soldiers, and I’m…” Was it unsafe to admit to her magic even now? The habits of a lifetime won out. “I’m not as useless as I look. Surely the Maker would not wish you to throw your life away unnecessarily.”
The sister looked at Bethany in surprise and stared at her for a long moment. “Yes,” she said, her expression lightening. “If you are willing to let me come then I will follow you. Perhaps this is the Maker’s will. And I am not as useless as I look either.” She smiled, and Bethany had the rather shallow thought that it would be nice to have someone to look at other than her family during the trip, especially someone so pretty.
“Oh, I am glad to hear it!” said Bethany. “My name is Bethany Hawke, I’ll introduce you to my mother and Carver and Marian when we meet up with them.” Assuming they didn’t get angry at Bethany for being so impractical and refuse to let this woman come along. But surely they would take pity on a woman of the Chant. “Um…but do you need to grab anything? We’re leaving very soon, I was just looking for supplies.” Bethany held up the sack she was carrying and gave a weak smile. “I hope you like turnips, because that’s all I could find.”
The sister stood up and dusted off her robes, revealing a small bag that she’d been using a cushion while she rested against the tree. She really was quite small, maybe even slightly shorter than Bethany. “My name is Leliana,” she said, “And I have been ready to leave for some time, although this is not quite how I imagined I would be leaving. Let us go and meet this family of yours, Bethany Hawke.”
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