Double Drabble: No Land in Sight (Aveline/Wesley)
No Land in Sight
Aveline/Wesley, DA2
200 words
During Aveline's journey from Gwaren to Kirkwall
Sitting still for three weeks. She hears nothing but the boat’s creaking planks, waves slamming against the hull. The sea opens its gaping maw, ready to swallow the boat whole, only to spit it out again. Wesley’s shield is still slung across her back. It knocks into her body whenever the boat pitches, pulls at her each time the boat rolls. The cargo hold floor is wet. Briny sea foam slides over puddles, mermaids’ tears given up by the drowning sea. All of them could die without anyone elsewhere in the world taking notice. Lost to the ocean deep. Gone in an instant.
She remembers kissing Wesley’s stomach. Following a scar that ran along his skin to meet with another. A crossroads marked on the map of his body. There she had placed a long kiss, looking up at his face, his eyes closed, lips parted, waiting for where she’d travel next. Her hands moved across the plain of his chest, reclaiming him inch by inch. All of him tasting of leather and battle and sweat. She had thanked the Maker for returning him. Left an offering with her lips marking the place holding his soul.
The Maker never listened.
Crossposted at http://vieralynn.dreamwidth.org/165630.html.
Aveline/Wesley, DA2
200 words
During Aveline's journey from Gwaren to Kirkwall
Sitting still for three weeks. She hears nothing but the boat’s creaking planks, waves slamming against the hull. The sea opens its gaping maw, ready to swallow the boat whole, only to spit it out again. Wesley’s shield is still slung across her back. It knocks into her body whenever the boat pitches, pulls at her each time the boat rolls. The cargo hold floor is wet. Briny sea foam slides over puddles, mermaids’ tears given up by the drowning sea. All of them could die without anyone elsewhere in the world taking notice. Lost to the ocean deep. Gone in an instant.
She remembers kissing Wesley’s stomach. Following a scar that ran along his skin to meet with another. A crossroads marked on the map of his body. There she had placed a long kiss, looking up at his face, his eyes closed, lips parted, waiting for where she’d travel next. Her hands moved across the plain of his chest, reclaiming him inch by inch. All of him tasting of leather and battle and sweat. She had thanked the Maker for returning him. Left an offering with her lips marking the place holding his soul.
The Maker never listened.
Crossposted at http://vieralynn.dreamwidth.org/165630.html.