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peopleofthedas2011-03-30 11:10 pm
sagacious_rage) wrote in peopleofthedas2011-03-30 11:10 pm
Let Love Go, Chapter 4: Bloody Cute
Title: Bloody Cute
Rating: PG for slapstick violence
Warnings: none
Word Count: 2565
Story Summary: Flashback to a time when things changed without either realizing it.
Author's Note: Somebody make me check myself before I wreck myself plskthx I CAN'T. STOP. WRITING. THIS. PAIRING.
And many thanks to the lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
xogs for the beta!
Bloody Cute
A year after arriving in Kirkwall, Laica was still uncomfortable in all the sunlight. It just felt unnatural, to have days and days of blue skies and bright sun that bleached her hair and whitewashed the stone walls of the city.
Every morning she and Carver emerged from Gamlen's house, she would glance over at him to see him squinting in confusion at the sky. It brought her some measure of comfort. Carver hadn't gotten used to it, either.
She never remembered what she was doing in the Chantry's courtyard in Hightown at that time of day. She couldn't ever remember if she were coming or going, what her plans had been or who had proposed them.
In fact, when she went back to look in her diary later this was all she had written:
Whatever the reason, she was there when he was there. And nothing was ever the same after that.
~*~
Laica glanced from the irate Grand Cleric to the furious priest and waited for her chance. “Can we get a move on?” Anders asked, a hint of anxiety creeping in his voice. “I'm feeling... exposed.”
“Sh!” Laica waved him off irritably. The sun glinted off of the priest's armor, stinging her eyes. “Maker's Breath what kind of clergy goes around kitted out like that anyway?” she grumbled. And then looked again. Because as ridiculous as the armor was, the man wearing it was, quite possibly, the most attractive man she had ever seen. And there was no sin in looking.
“Stay focused, Hawke,” teased Isabela. “Don't get distracted by the scenery.”
“A rich one,” Varric smirked. “And if you're quick, you'll snatch up that post he's trying to make on the board before they do,” and he cocked his head toward a raggedy-looking group of Rivaini mercs on the other side of the courtyard.
Laica glanced over and made eye contact with their runner. He looked quick, but probably not as fast as her. Not many people were. She crouched slightly, easing her weight forward and shaking her arms loose. “I can beat him,” she assured Varric.
The priest spun on his heel and stalked away, shoulders tight with anger and head held high. The Grand Cleric shook her head sadly and began to walk away from the board. Laica saw her opening and made a dash for it.
But Laica had made a grave error.
The priest wasn't finished with what he had to say, and turned back just in time for Laica to slam into him at full speed.
There was a resounding CLANG! as her face smashed into his breastplate and she crumpled to the ground.
“Sweet Andraste! Are you hurt, miss?” the priest reached for her, heedless of the sizable blood smear on his armor and the additional blood gushing out of her nose.
“I, uh...” Laica tried to blink the stars out of her eyes.
“What was she doing, running through the courtyard like that?” wondered the Grand Cleric, also bending over her.
The Rivaini was running for the Chanter's board. “That man,” Laica pointed. “He's after me! He's trying to hurt me!”
“Templars!” the priest yelled to a clutch of knights to the north end. “Arrest that man!” He turned back to Laica. “I apologize, young lady,” he said, extending a hand and helping her up. “But I cannot stay.”
“Sebastian,” the Grand Cleric said in a weary tone. “This will only lead to more pain.”
“I said I cannot stay,” he repeated, eyes glinting stonily.
“Yeah, uh, neither can I...” Laica slipped away and made for the Chanter's board before either noticed. “Sod it all,” she muttered, searching the fliers and leaving bloody fingerprints all over the board, much to the Chanter's dismay. “Where did it go?”
“Come on, Hawke,” Isabela handed her the posting with a wink. “Good job on the distraction. It's enouraging to know you're the sort to sacrifice your nose in the name of good coin.”
~*~
“Ow!” Laica hissed as Anders lightly pressed the bridge of her nose with his fingers.
“Oh, come off it, you big baby,” Carver chided. “he barely touched you.” For all her talk, Laica was the whiniest person Carver had ever known. If he had broken his nose, he wouldn’t even have bothered to go to Anders. He would have just rubbed some elfroot on it and called it a day.
She pouted. “I’m very tender in that area right now, thank you very much.”
“Well, that much is understandable,” Anders said as he gently wiped the dried blood from her face. “I’ll have to keep your brilliant strategy in mind next time I’m fighting Templars, by the way. Did you actually manage to crack his breastplate? Or did your face come out the only loser in that skirmish?”
“Well, I got a good bloodstain on him, at any rate,” Laica grimaced as Anders covered her face with his hand and began healing her. “But he wasn’t a Templar,” she said into his palm. “He was a priest.”
“What?” Anders asked, smiling sickeningly. Carver fussed with his arm braces. It was always awkward to watch men try to flirt with his sister. “Are they arming priests now? What for?”
Laica shrugged. “Don’t know. But he wants us to kill people and he’s willing to pay for it.”
Anders frowned as he finished up. “Mages, I wager.”
“Nope,” Laica shrugged. “Mercs. Some kind of family dispute, I didn’t ask too many questions.”
“Especially not what you wanted to ask,” Carver sneered, going for the soft spot.
“Shut up, Carver!” Laica threw a pillow at him.
Carver grinned and went for the kill. “Oh, Father Whatawaste what a nice day for a stroll,” he said in an exaggeratedly feminine tone. “Shall we go to your place or mind, Brother Blue Eyes?”
“I hate you,” Laica growled, reaching for a stone.
“No fighting in the Clinic!” Anders declared, flashing blue for a moment and stretching out his hands.
It always frightened Carver when he did that, and he bowed his head, somewhat cowed.
But the blue light didn't totally fade away. “I hope you know what you're doing, Laica,” Anders said as he angrily washed his hands. “Because arcane and ordained don't exactly make the best pairs.”
“I really wish the two of you would just leave me alone about this,” Laica crossed her arms, equally angry. “It's just a job. I get lots of jobs. That's what's keeping us all fed. The only thing I'm interested in from that man is his money.”
“He must have been carrying quite a purse on his arse, then,” Carver quipped, unable to help himself.
“Carver Horatio Hawke so help me I'm going--” Laica glanced back at Anders as he began to glow brighter. “I'm going to walk you home and tuck you in like the darling boy you are,” she finished in a sugary-sweet tone.
“But I don't--” Carver began to protest.
“Just keep walking, my dear dear brother,” she said in an ominous tone as she dragged him out of the clinic.
~*~
Merrill shifted uncomfortably. She never could understand the human compulsion to kneel while praying. Why their Maker demanded stiff joints and a sore back remained an impenetrable mystery. “Will we be here very much longer?” she asked Laica.
“Shh! You're supposed to be praying!” Laica hissed in a whisper.
“Oh.” Merrill whispered back. “Do I have to? I'm not much for praying in a Chantry...” she looked around the ostentatious building. How could anybody feel close to the divine in something so unnatural? “Do you think anybody would mind if I just pretended?”
“No, that's fine. Pretend all you want,” Laica whispered before bowing her head. “Oh Sweet Bride of the Maker give me strength...”
“You know,” Isabela said, eyes twinkling in that way they always did right before she said something Merrill found baffling. “Usually when I'm on my knees this long I'm doing something a bit more entertaining.”
“Please don't,” Laica groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I really don't need to be thinking about that... sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing?” Merrill asked. The Keeper always said the only foolish question was the one that went unasked. “Usually when I'm on my knees I'm scrubbing the floor. Or sweeping ashes out of the fireplace. Or trying to find my socks. I really wish I could find my socks my toes have been so cold lately.”
“It's not...” Isabela sighed. “Let's wait until we're out of the chantry, eh Kitten? Then I'll explain it to you.”
Laica clasped her hands together. “Oh Maker if you could just strike me blind for a few moments that would be very helpful...”
“It's just another job, Hawke,” Aveline said in a calm tone behind from her seat in the pew behind them. “You did the work, you tell him, you get paid. Simple as that.”
“Yeah, simple as that,” Laica repeated. “And he won't think I'm stupid for breaking my nose on his armor?”
“Oh no,” Isabela said emphatically. “Not at all! He might even throw in a little extra for your trouble.” And then she winked.
“You're not making this easier,” Laica glowered.
“Why would that make it harder?” Merrill asked. “I think a little extra would be lovely.”
“If the little extra was harder then all her problems would be solved,” Isabela snickered. “Though I might be underestimating how much extra he can afford, if that belt buckle is an indication.”
“Shut up,” Aveline scolded them. “Unless you want to spend all day in here.”
“Fine,” Laica hissed. “He's done with the candles. I'm going.” She took a deep breath, stood up, straightened her shoulders and slowly made her way to the priest. She walked stiffly, her knees must have been sore as well.
Merrill watched as Laica made her way to the red haired man she had been watching so intently. He was nice looking, she supposed. For a human. Merrill couldn't find much all that attractive about humans. They just looked so clumsy. Like oxen that decided one day that they wanted to walk upright.
Laica was twirling her hair around a finger and laughing nervously. The man cocked his head to the side, quizzical, and said something Merrill couldn't quite make out. He then handed Laica something and walked away.
Laica turned around, shoulders slumped, looking slightly dazed. “Oh,” Isabela said sorrowfully. “Damn.”
“That's going to smart,” Aveline said grimly.
“What will? Did he not pay her?” Merrill asked. The only foolish question...
“Let's get out of here,” Laica said sadly when she got back to the pew. “Chantries are boring.”
Isabela linked arms with Laica as they left. “Is he very stupid, then? The bruise you left on his chest hasn't had time to fade yet.”
Laica shrugged. “I guess maybe without all the blood I look different.”
~*~
For most of his life early life, Sebastian had felt like he was spinning aimlessly. There was no purpose to his existence. He was an afterthought. An unwanted and useless extra to the roles already determined for his brothers.
His solution to this sense of meaningless was to seek oblivion in drink and sex. Which was diverting, to be certain. But as his debauchery took on a life of its own and led him to even greater excesses, he slowly became aware that he was not simply spinning in place. He was circling downward.
Somehow, through the efforts of others and eventually himself (despite his best efforts), he found a reason to exist in the Chantry. There he could be of use to somebody. There he was able to conquer his demons and set his mind right. There he discovered a peace he had never even considered a possibility. And while the sacrifices he had to make in order to achieve that peace were harsh, in the end it seemed a small price to regain his mind, his soul, and his self-respect.
The Chantry became the axis on which his whole life revolved. Constrained, constant, and composed. But then one day he received word of his family's cruel slaughter, and that world tilted on its axis. And in trying to set it right, he met her. And she ripped the axis out completely.
~*~
“Was that Hawke you were just speaking to?” Ser Thrask asked him as Sebastian was on his way back to his quarters.
“Who?” he asked, looking around the empty hall. “Oh, you mean the woman? Was that her name?”
“Yes,” Thrask nodded. “Laica Hawke. She had helped me with some personal problems recently. I had hoped to thank her. Do you know where she went?”
His mind was still racing from the revelation that he no longer had to fear the assassins. He barely even remembered what he had said to the woman. Had he even paid her? He hoped he had. “I'm sorry... I... I don't think she mentioned.”
“Ah, no matter. I'm sure she'll be around,” Thrask smiled fondly. “She always seems to pop up when you need her most.” He turned to leave.
“Ser Thrask,” Sebastian stopped him. “You know this woman well?”
Thrask shrugged. “She helped me a great deal when she didn't need to, and when it probably would have been in her own best interests to turn away. I've never sat down to supper with her but in my estimation she's one of the best people in Kirkwall. Why?”
Sebastian thought a moment. What did he want to ask? Her eyes haunted him. They had held an expression of such hopefulness when she began speaking with him, but by the end of their conversation she turned away with such despondence that he couldn't help but feel guilty. “Did she ever seem like she expected something of you? And that you had somehow failed her?”
Thrask knitted his brows. “I'm sorry, but I can't say that I have had that sort of interaction with her.”
“Oh,” Sebastian nodded. “Perhaps I imagined it.”
“I'm sure you did,” Thrask said, smiling and clapping him on the back. “How could anybody be disappointed in you?”
“You're too kind,” Sebastian excused himself to pack.
That night, and many nights following, his dreams were haunted by a woman with deep blue eyes that held no end of sorrow. And nothing was ever the same after that.
~*~
Mods, I've decided to stop worrying and love my muse. If you could make a "Series: Let Love Go" tag I would be much obliged.
Rating: PG for slapstick violence
Warnings: none
Word Count: 2565
Story Summary: Flashback to a time when things changed without either realizing it.
Author's Note: Somebody make me check myself before I wreck myself plskthx I CAN'T. STOP. WRITING. THIS. PAIRING.
And many thanks to the lovely
xogs for the beta!A year after arriving in Kirkwall, Laica was still uncomfortable in all the sunlight. It just felt unnatural, to have days and days of blue skies and bright sun that bleached her hair and whitewashed the stone walls of the city.
Every morning she and Carver emerged from Gamlen's house, she would glance over at him to see him squinting in confusion at the sky. It brought her some measure of comfort. Carver hadn't gotten used to it, either.
She never remembered what she was doing in the Chantry's courtyard in Hightown at that time of day. She couldn't ever remember if she were coming or going, what her plans had been or who had proposed them.
In fact, when she went back to look in her diary later this was all she had written:
More bloody errands. I think Hubert shorted me. Lousy, sleazy scumbag. Too useful to kill. Nearly have enough to go in on the expedition.
Met a very angry priest today. Angry and rich, judging from the armor. Going to kill some people for him. Hope he didn't take poverty as one of his vows and thus can pay up.
Whatever the reason, she was there when he was there. And nothing was ever the same after that.
Laica glanced from the irate Grand Cleric to the furious priest and waited for her chance. “Can we get a move on?” Anders asked, a hint of anxiety creeping in his voice. “I'm feeling... exposed.”
“Sh!” Laica waved him off irritably. The sun glinted off of the priest's armor, stinging her eyes. “Maker's Breath what kind of clergy goes around kitted out like that anyway?” she grumbled. And then looked again. Because as ridiculous as the armor was, the man wearing it was, quite possibly, the most attractive man she had ever seen. And there was no sin in looking.
“Stay focused, Hawke,” teased Isabela. “Don't get distracted by the scenery.”
“A rich one,” Varric smirked. “And if you're quick, you'll snatch up that post he's trying to make on the board before they do,” and he cocked his head toward a raggedy-looking group of Rivaini mercs on the other side of the courtyard.
Laica glanced over and made eye contact with their runner. He looked quick, but probably not as fast as her. Not many people were. She crouched slightly, easing her weight forward and shaking her arms loose. “I can beat him,” she assured Varric.
The priest spun on his heel and stalked away, shoulders tight with anger and head held high. The Grand Cleric shook her head sadly and began to walk away from the board. Laica saw her opening and made a dash for it.
But Laica had made a grave error.
The priest wasn't finished with what he had to say, and turned back just in time for Laica to slam into him at full speed.
There was a resounding CLANG! as her face smashed into his breastplate and she crumpled to the ground.
“Sweet Andraste! Are you hurt, miss?” the priest reached for her, heedless of the sizable blood smear on his armor and the additional blood gushing out of her nose.
“I, uh...” Laica tried to blink the stars out of her eyes.
“What was she doing, running through the courtyard like that?” wondered the Grand Cleric, also bending over her.
The Rivaini was running for the Chanter's board. “That man,” Laica pointed. “He's after me! He's trying to hurt me!”
“Templars!” the priest yelled to a clutch of knights to the north end. “Arrest that man!” He turned back to Laica. “I apologize, young lady,” he said, extending a hand and helping her up. “But I cannot stay.”
“Sebastian,” the Grand Cleric said in a weary tone. “This will only lead to more pain.”
“I said I cannot stay,” he repeated, eyes glinting stonily.
“Yeah, uh, neither can I...” Laica slipped away and made for the Chanter's board before either noticed. “Sod it all,” she muttered, searching the fliers and leaving bloody fingerprints all over the board, much to the Chanter's dismay. “Where did it go?”
“Come on, Hawke,” Isabela handed her the posting with a wink. “Good job on the distraction. It's enouraging to know you're the sort to sacrifice your nose in the name of good coin.”
“Ow!” Laica hissed as Anders lightly pressed the bridge of her nose with his fingers.
“Oh, come off it, you big baby,” Carver chided. “he barely touched you.” For all her talk, Laica was the whiniest person Carver had ever known. If he had broken his nose, he wouldn’t even have bothered to go to Anders. He would have just rubbed some elfroot on it and called it a day.
She pouted. “I’m very tender in that area right now, thank you very much.”
“Well, that much is understandable,” Anders said as he gently wiped the dried blood from her face. “I’ll have to keep your brilliant strategy in mind next time I’m fighting Templars, by the way. Did you actually manage to crack his breastplate? Or did your face come out the only loser in that skirmish?”
“Well, I got a good bloodstain on him, at any rate,” Laica grimaced as Anders covered her face with his hand and began healing her. “But he wasn’t a Templar,” she said into his palm. “He was a priest.”
“What?” Anders asked, smiling sickeningly. Carver fussed with his arm braces. It was always awkward to watch men try to flirt with his sister. “Are they arming priests now? What for?”
Laica shrugged. “Don’t know. But he wants us to kill people and he’s willing to pay for it.”
Anders frowned as he finished up. “Mages, I wager.”
“Nope,” Laica shrugged. “Mercs. Some kind of family dispute, I didn’t ask too many questions.”
“Especially not what you wanted to ask,” Carver sneered, going for the soft spot.
“Shut up, Carver!” Laica threw a pillow at him.
Carver grinned and went for the kill. “Oh, Father Whatawaste what a nice day for a stroll,” he said in an exaggeratedly feminine tone. “Shall we go to your place or mind, Brother Blue Eyes?”
“I hate you,” Laica growled, reaching for a stone.
“No fighting in the Clinic!” Anders declared, flashing blue for a moment and stretching out his hands.
It always frightened Carver when he did that, and he bowed his head, somewhat cowed.
But the blue light didn't totally fade away. “I hope you know what you're doing, Laica,” Anders said as he angrily washed his hands. “Because arcane and ordained don't exactly make the best pairs.”
“I really wish the two of you would just leave me alone about this,” Laica crossed her arms, equally angry. “It's just a job. I get lots of jobs. That's what's keeping us all fed. The only thing I'm interested in from that man is his money.”
“He must have been carrying quite a purse on his arse, then,” Carver quipped, unable to help himself.
“Carver Horatio Hawke so help me I'm going--” Laica glanced back at Anders as he began to glow brighter. “I'm going to walk you home and tuck you in like the darling boy you are,” she finished in a sugary-sweet tone.
“But I don't--” Carver began to protest.
“Just keep walking, my dear dear brother,” she said in an ominous tone as she dragged him out of the clinic.
Merrill shifted uncomfortably. She never could understand the human compulsion to kneel while praying. Why their Maker demanded stiff joints and a sore back remained an impenetrable mystery. “Will we be here very much longer?” she asked Laica.
“Shh! You're supposed to be praying!” Laica hissed in a whisper.
“Oh.” Merrill whispered back. “Do I have to? I'm not much for praying in a Chantry...” she looked around the ostentatious building. How could anybody feel close to the divine in something so unnatural? “Do you think anybody would mind if I just pretended?”
“No, that's fine. Pretend all you want,” Laica whispered before bowing her head. “Oh Sweet Bride of the Maker give me strength...”
“You know,” Isabela said, eyes twinkling in that way they always did right before she said something Merrill found baffling. “Usually when I'm on my knees this long I'm doing something a bit more entertaining.”
“Please don't,” Laica groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I really don't need to be thinking about that... sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing?” Merrill asked. The Keeper always said the only foolish question was the one that went unasked. “Usually when I'm on my knees I'm scrubbing the floor. Or sweeping ashes out of the fireplace. Or trying to find my socks. I really wish I could find my socks my toes have been so cold lately.”
“It's not...” Isabela sighed. “Let's wait until we're out of the chantry, eh Kitten? Then I'll explain it to you.”
Laica clasped her hands together. “Oh Maker if you could just strike me blind for a few moments that would be very helpful...”
“It's just another job, Hawke,” Aveline said in a calm tone behind from her seat in the pew behind them. “You did the work, you tell him, you get paid. Simple as that.”
“Yeah, simple as that,” Laica repeated. “And he won't think I'm stupid for breaking my nose on his armor?”
“Oh no,” Isabela said emphatically. “Not at all! He might even throw in a little extra for your trouble.” And then she winked.
“You're not making this easier,” Laica glowered.
“Why would that make it harder?” Merrill asked. “I think a little extra would be lovely.”
“If the little extra was harder then all her problems would be solved,” Isabela snickered. “Though I might be underestimating how much extra he can afford, if that belt buckle is an indication.”
“Shut up,” Aveline scolded them. “Unless you want to spend all day in here.”
“Fine,” Laica hissed. “He's done with the candles. I'm going.” She took a deep breath, stood up, straightened her shoulders and slowly made her way to the priest. She walked stiffly, her knees must have been sore as well.
Merrill watched as Laica made her way to the red haired man she had been watching so intently. He was nice looking, she supposed. For a human. Merrill couldn't find much all that attractive about humans. They just looked so clumsy. Like oxen that decided one day that they wanted to walk upright.
Laica was twirling her hair around a finger and laughing nervously. The man cocked his head to the side, quizzical, and said something Merrill couldn't quite make out. He then handed Laica something and walked away.
Laica turned around, shoulders slumped, looking slightly dazed. “Oh,” Isabela said sorrowfully. “Damn.”
“That's going to smart,” Aveline said grimly.
“What will? Did he not pay her?” Merrill asked. The only foolish question...
“Let's get out of here,” Laica said sadly when she got back to the pew. “Chantries are boring.”
Isabela linked arms with Laica as they left. “Is he very stupid, then? The bruise you left on his chest hasn't had time to fade yet.”
Laica shrugged. “I guess maybe without all the blood I look different.”
For most of his life early life, Sebastian had felt like he was spinning aimlessly. There was no purpose to his existence. He was an afterthought. An unwanted and useless extra to the roles already determined for his brothers.
His solution to this sense of meaningless was to seek oblivion in drink and sex. Which was diverting, to be certain. But as his debauchery took on a life of its own and led him to even greater excesses, he slowly became aware that he was not simply spinning in place. He was circling downward.
Somehow, through the efforts of others and eventually himself (despite his best efforts), he found a reason to exist in the Chantry. There he could be of use to somebody. There he was able to conquer his demons and set his mind right. There he discovered a peace he had never even considered a possibility. And while the sacrifices he had to make in order to achieve that peace were harsh, in the end it seemed a small price to regain his mind, his soul, and his self-respect.
The Chantry became the axis on which his whole life revolved. Constrained, constant, and composed. But then one day he received word of his family's cruel slaughter, and that world tilted on its axis. And in trying to set it right, he met her. And she ripped the axis out completely.
“Was that Hawke you were just speaking to?” Ser Thrask asked him as Sebastian was on his way back to his quarters.
“Who?” he asked, looking around the empty hall. “Oh, you mean the woman? Was that her name?”
“Yes,” Thrask nodded. “Laica Hawke. She had helped me with some personal problems recently. I had hoped to thank her. Do you know where she went?”
His mind was still racing from the revelation that he no longer had to fear the assassins. He barely even remembered what he had said to the woman. Had he even paid her? He hoped he had. “I'm sorry... I... I don't think she mentioned.”
“Ah, no matter. I'm sure she'll be around,” Thrask smiled fondly. “She always seems to pop up when you need her most.” He turned to leave.
“Ser Thrask,” Sebastian stopped him. “You know this woman well?”
Thrask shrugged. “She helped me a great deal when she didn't need to, and when it probably would have been in her own best interests to turn away. I've never sat down to supper with her but in my estimation she's one of the best people in Kirkwall. Why?”
Sebastian thought a moment. What did he want to ask? Her eyes haunted him. They had held an expression of such hopefulness when she began speaking with him, but by the end of their conversation she turned away with such despondence that he couldn't help but feel guilty. “Did she ever seem like she expected something of you? And that you had somehow failed her?”
Thrask knitted his brows. “I'm sorry, but I can't say that I have had that sort of interaction with her.”
“Oh,” Sebastian nodded. “Perhaps I imagined it.”
“I'm sure you did,” Thrask said, smiling and clapping him on the back. “How could anybody be disappointed in you?”
“You're too kind,” Sebastian excused himself to pack.
That night, and many nights following, his dreams were haunted by a woman with deep blue eyes that held no end of sorrow. And nothing was ever the same after that.
Mods, I've decided to stop worrying and love my muse. If you could make a "Series: Let Love Go" tag I would be much obliged.
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LOL. I loved that banter while the girls were kneeling, too. I'm glad you did this chapter. It's a great way to see how it all started, and I feel I understand Laica better now.
And, may I add, I am thrilled your muse has kicked you in the ass with these two! *happy dances*
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This is in no small part YOUR fault, btw, so I'm glad you're enjoying it at least lol
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I'm waiting for my muse to return. This month has been kind of tough... cat died, DA2 came out, getting new kittens next week... so hopefully the muse will come back soon!
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But yay for new kittens!!!! Any names picked yet??
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Leto is good because of Fenris and also Duke Leto from Dune.
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(On my lunchbreak, I can't believe this site isn't blocked at work!)
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