𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕

[aberratic]

OPEN POST

FOR TEXTS, TFLN, RANDOM SCENARIO, AND OTHER MEMERY.

OTA | AUS WELCOME | NSFW OKAY

Comments

[aberratic]

There have been many moments in Ennaris' short life that have marked before and after—where her reality tilted around her and she has had to accept a new normal with hardly a breath to adjust. There was the moment she realized her mother had left her behind in Candlekeep, and she would not be coming back—the moment she turned in her wagon seat and found she could no longer see the spires of the library behind her—the moment she woke in Thedas, everything and everyone she knew forever beyond her reach—

and now there is this, Vanya returned from the grave in front of her. She reaches dazedly up for his hand, curling hers around it. Feels the warmth and the solidity of his skin under her palm. Turns her cheek into the cup of his palm, and feels the warmth there too. Holds her breath, like he'll spook and disappear if she so much as breathes wrong.

It feels—unreal. Like she's watching this scene from outside herself. He can't be here, despite all the combined sense that tells her otherwise.

"I'm alright," she says, quiet, not taking her eyes off of Vanya, "except I think I may be so tired I've begun to hallucinate, because you're dead."

[wearyallalone]

His look immediately shifts to sympathy, though he doesn't pull his hand away. "I'm not, I swear to you I'm not." His tone is quiet, as if not to startle her further. "It was all a mess, Pamplemousse was injured badly enough she couldn't fly, and I lost the saddle bag that had the sending crystal in it. I had to walk most of the way back, I couldn't find a secure way to send any word."

Nor, as he'd berated himself for privately, had he memorized the eluvian map. He might have had a shortcut if he'd known to head for it, but without the information, there was little choice other than walking home from the Anderfels. It had taken longer than he might have liked.

Of course, it had occurred to him people might assume the worst under the circumstances. But it is a bit different, now, seeing the reaction in person.

[aberratic]

"I see," she murmurs, even though she doesn't at all, "that makes sense," even though it doesn't. It could make sense, it will make sense, when she's had a night to sleep on it—but right now it feels as if her mind is a wagon wheel stuck in a muddy rut, trying to push forward yet getting dragged back into the muck with every shove. Vanya is alive. Less than a minute ago, he was dead. Only one of these things can be true.

He hasn't disappeared, or warped into a demon. He sounds like himself. Has the same warm eyes, the same dear hands.

Something doesn't have to make sense to be true.

Ennaris exhales a shuddering breath and steps away from his hand—forward, not back. She wraps her arm around his torso in a clinging embrace, curling her fist into the back of his shirt. With her ear pressed to his chest, she can hear the steady beat of his heart, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Her throat works, thick with tears for the second time tonight. There's so much she should say—is Pamplemousse alright, is he alright, who else has he told that he's back, Gwenaëlle should know—but all that she can find the words for is

"I missed you, I missed you, Vanya—"

[wearyallalone]

He immediately wraps her in his arms without hesitation. "It's alright," he murmurs into her hair. "It's alright, I'm here now." He had missed her too, of course, but he hadn't had any reason to fear she was gone. (Or, at least, any more than one always did with rifters. It's a thought to put away for the present.)

He gives her a few moments before suggesting: "Why don't we sit down?" Not an indication that he plans to separate from her, but perhaps an acknowledgement that this might be a long enough reunion that later she might be glad to be having it somewhere other than the doorway of her office. And he is arriving from what must have been an extremely long walk, for what it's worth.

[aberratic]

Despite that she nods, despite that she can very clearly see the sense in moving this reunion out of the hallway... It still takes a long moment for Ennaris to release Vanya. Even when she does, she doesn't let him go entirely, trailing her hand along his arm, elbow to wrist, unwilling to let go just yet.

"Of course, you must be so tired," she says, "Come into the office, I have—well. There's a seat, anyway."

Her hand finally falls away from his wrist long enough to open the door to the office, but she reaches back for him once inside, as though he might have somehow disappeared in the time they weren't touching.

The Archives-Special Acquisitions office is in a state of what might generously be called "organized chaos", at least on her side—the desk she leads him to is piled high with paperwork, with only a small space in front of the seat left clear for working. A plate of food sits, untouched, on top of one of the piles. Behind the desk is a threadbare chaise, a blanket draped over it, and she encourages Vanya to sit on it.

"Are you alright?" she asks, brushing her thumb over his knuckles, "are you hungry? I have," she says, turning to look at the desk, "I got dinner today, I can warm it, it'll be—but it hasn't gone off, it's just been a couple hours—"