Moonspear ᵐᵗᵐᵖʰ dornröschen (mtr.)

“Ja,”
—having heard this bit of his language previously, she has assumed that bit is rooted in the affirmative; the acknowledging, at the very least;
and it's all she might murmur; a softened wisp that would go unheard, had not her lips been hummingbird to the ambrosia of his kiss; shorn lips that winged to the dark corner of his own. Though her lashes linger heavy upon desecrated cheek, and though he touches this, too, he would know the hushed hitch within her naked throat for her myriad waking.

Her heart shudders, staggers; stops; for there is nothing like these breathless and aching moments; nothing like her bewitcher’s stone mouth at her ear, her cheek; nothing more shepherding, more guiding; nothing more knowable that they remained to chart themselves to another even as he meant now to depart of her. Time and time again, they were both found and fond. Time and time again; this deep and golden moment within that untread hall, quivering upon that threshold. He was not simply body to her.

How far has her evinyatar come, to reach to her through her own labyrinthine mists of that previous dawn, and this? How far has he gone from his people, to caress her so? She loathes him for this, and—

The stricken is unafraid, and quails not. Into his ironwrought embrace had all her tears and hesitant hopes went; and so too had the musiker of her. They made it theirs, as they had in the last dawn and
in the waters; their waters;
—the strain returned now to rawboned hips, curvaceous only when canted with wanting; and Andraste means to veil that pervasive scent of herself from him; feathers the tail betwixt intermittent and quavering thighs in a thin veil of modesty. So quail she does, then; awaiting and entreating; fearing, longing now to melt upon the anvil and else he offers her.

Marred lips part; flushed; ardent, speechless;
a trembling kiss to the hammer-laden muzzle for his own scars; wishes to hold them all as if they were fortunes; and so kisses them for the uprising that he has settled upon her faded shores.

Andraste croons to the wars of him,
faerie and all.