(no subject)
GODS OF ANTIVA, sequel to mud and sand, m!hawke/anders, antivan ever-after, ~49,000 words.
After two weeks on the open water, Anders never wanted to see a foamy wave-cap again.
He wouldn’t have minded the sea-birds, the smells of salt and sweat, the quick breezes or the black, cool nights, but the bouts of seasickness-which came without warning and passed without cure-made it difficult to appreciate the wind in his hair or cooling his skin. He was a man better suited for leaning over window-sills than over boat-sides; a coastline that changed hourly and a vessel that bobbed heavy with its illegal, breathing cargo day in and day out was almost as appalling as the sight of qunari dreadnoughts on the horizon, when the captain of The Siren’s Call steered them dangerously close to Seheron on their way out of Minrathous port.
That was days ago now. The craggy line of qunari land had long since faded into the distance-the horizon behind them, instead of the one glittering with the setting sun far beyond the ship’s prow-but Anders knew from personal experience that qunari never disappeared. They always were, and never stopped, right up until the moment they died-and probably even after that. Their certainty, their Qun, was no less confounding on a boat than it was on solid ground.
After two weeks on the open water, Anders never wanted to see a foamy wave-cap again.
He wouldn’t have minded the sea-birds, the smells of salt and sweat, the quick breezes or the black, cool nights, but the bouts of seasickness-which came without warning and passed without cure-made it difficult to appreciate the wind in his hair or cooling his skin. He was a man better suited for leaning over window-sills than over boat-sides; a coastline that changed hourly and a vessel that bobbed heavy with its illegal, breathing cargo day in and day out was almost as appalling as the sight of qunari dreadnoughts on the horizon, when the captain of The Siren’s Call steered them dangerously close to Seheron on their way out of Minrathous port.
That was days ago now. The craggy line of qunari land had long since faded into the distance-the horizon behind them, instead of the one glittering with the setting sun far beyond the ship’s prow-but Anders knew from personal experience that qunari never disappeared. They always were, and never stopped, right up until the moment they died-and probably even after that. Their certainty, their Qun, was no less confounding on a boat than it was on solid ground.