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UNBOUND

Here on Unbound, our plot follows four different timelines, set throughout the canonical history of the Dragon Age. The events following Trespasser, the time of the Inquisition, the rise of the Champion of Kirkwall and the quest of the Warden against the Fifth Blight.

And So is the Golden City blackened
With each step you take in my Hall.
Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting.
You have brought Sin to Heaven
And doom upon all the world.

-Threnodies 8.13


 
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 The Dawn Will Come, Zevran, 9:30
as played by SQUEE

25" posts

group

Warrior
“Why couldn’t ya have just been dead?” Nolani asked the trees. Although her question was not for the trees, but for the spaces between them, so they reached the memory of her oldest friend. She stood in the chilly dark, as if expecting an answer to be carried on the voices of owls and bats. Being out here in Nolani sniffed and smudged the back of her hand beneath her leaking nose. “It would have been so much easier.”

Her knuckles were busted and swollen from striking trees because she transformed her grief in short-lived spurts of rage. She had mourned similarly a only months ago, although her earliest companions would remember her anger being inconsolable and indiscrimitory, compounded also by Ostagar circumstances which had presented her with her current, inescapable destiny.

This grief was different. Horror rang in the hollow, renewed each time she recalled Tamlen’s gaunt, sickly frame. He had been dead to her. Then he was there, reanimated it seemed, and he marched to her with darkspawn and her typical war cry had turned into a scream of wretched disbelief.

Why couldn't he have just been dead?

She’d asked Tamlen’s corpse several times, while holding him, ignoring the wealth of blood from the fatal wound. Ignoring that his blood was on her blade beside her.

Nolani couldn't remember if there had ever been a time in her life she had sobbed or felt as if her chest had been split and cracked open, so her heart felt like it was falling out. She had holding Tamlen’s body, wondering who she could blame for his monstrosity.

The Ferelden air was brisk, especially for one standing in a long shirt made for a human. What it covered below it bloody well didn't on the top when the laces lay open. She trudged back to the tent, the balls of her feet skimming the ground. Nolani had pitched her tent further than the others these past two days to give herself space and denied most company not just at camp, but when they were traveling as well.

She ducked inside, numbly sat in the middle of her bedroll, and laboriously rubbed her palms against her sticky eyes and cheeks - like a small child too tired to cry over her nightmares any longer. She looked at Zevran beside her as the stars cleared from her vision, in hopes looking at someone else would chase Tamlen’s ghoulish expression from her mind.

He was awake. She scoffed, immediately averting her eyes onto her bleeding knuckles and tried to stem the slow swell from a particularly nasty gash with her fingertips.

Her voice was thicker and stuffier than usual, “Ya should be asleep. If that’s my fault then…” Nolani shrugged, then brushed her nose against her shoulder to contain evidence of her useless tears. “Ya should maybe find another place to sleep.”

That was as close to an apology he was getting. He also wasn't going to hear how she’d prefer if he didn’t leave, but the man was also entitled to his sleep. Despite the blunt wording of her suggestion, there was no fight in her inflection or shoulders. Her blooded hands stilled in her lap. “Because I can't. Fucking drained and I…” Nolani squeezed her fist as new pain welled inside her chest and she ground her teeth audibly as her instincts worked to convert the pain to anger in spite of her exhaustion.


ZEVRAN ARAINAI
Dec 12 2017, 08:31 PM
as played by becca

4" posts

group

Rogue
He wakes quickly, a habit of yonder years and one Zevran could not see giving up anytime soon. The canvas of the tent's roof flutters against the breeze and Zevran watches it and pulls his hands back to his side from where it had slid up to find a dagger.

It takes only a moment to sort through his various instincts and thoughts to the heart of the matter. The brief whisper of cloth as the tent's opening is pushed aside and the Warden enters. The chill she brings in with her; the goosebumps on his flesh where the furs have been pulled away from his shoulders.

Zevran watches her; watches as she takes notice of him scoffs. He sits up slowly, putting his weight on his elbow and reaches out with the other hand to cup her bruised and bloody knuckles. Sweeps his thumb through the blood and does not comment. Lets her speak. Chuckles at the end but not at her. Never at her.

He does not know the full story, but he doesn't need to. He likes to think he knows her well enough to see the ache in the tears she desperately tries to hide she's shed and in the gashes on her hands they both cover up. "I have no complaints, dear Warden," he drawls. It is her space, and as long as she is willing to share it with him, he will take her up on the offer. As she has not outright told him to leave, Zevran...lingers, eyes flickering over her form and posture.

This Warden is something new, something different with glimpses of the strong woman he has come to respect shining through. Zevran pushes himself to fully sit up beside her, wiping his hands clean. He reaches for the discarded tunic he'd thrown away before settling and pulls it on. HIs movements lack his usual grace, but the cold still clings and sleep - now that his mind knows there is no danger to lock urgency into his limbs - makes him hazy.

"I shall endeavor to be a distraction," he says. It's not even a suggestion to have sex, though he will not fault the Warden if she wishes to go down that path. He keeps his words light, his tone neutral. He stretches and brushes fingers through tangled blond hair and waits, the space between them open. He cannot say he is not unnerved, but it is nowhere near the uncertainty he'd felt in first months as Nolani's companion, and here in the privacy of the tent, where he has already stripped himself of most of his walls, he was willing to offer any support.
Dec 26 2017, 04:24 PM
as played by SQUEE

25" posts

group

Warrior
His hand lay over hers and Nolani was surprised the gesture comforted her, but in a pathetic way. She relaxed but when the tears watered her vision again, she hunched back up into herself. She felt like a weak husk of the warrior she was, holding the cracks of her body together with sheer willpower to make a container for her sorrow, fearful of being thought of as less capable.

Nolani moved her hands, unwilling to succumb or admit her heart lay in tatters and her fears were churning overtime.She was still, staring at an ambiguous space in the rumple of furs. Zevran moved beside her, pulling on a tunic and remaining a lingering presence, there but not prying. Nolani made an amused sound. “Ya should have kept the tunic off to be a real distraction.”

The joke was spoken too sternly. The quiet settled and Nolani closed her eyes, willing her mind to shut up and the memories to stop. Just stop. The grief was overwhelming and she was exhausted from wrestling it.

“He should have been dead,” she said, low and miserably. “And I guess… The Blight… Or the taint… That’s how I ended up here.” Nolani snuffed, rubbing her face on her sleeve and pointedly avoiding Zevran’s gaze.

With sharpness, she pulled bandages from her pack beside her bedroll. In a haphazard method, she wound her bleeding hands in the staunching cloth while continuing, “That damn mirror.” Exhaustion and the small hours of the night had a way of rendering one vulnerable. Despite sharing her tent with Zevran, she stoically tamped down how terrifying she found her nightmares about the Archdemon. And since the fight with Tamlen? She had a whole other fear eating away at her resolve. “We thought we found a great treasure for our clan and then he touched it and I’m waking up with a Gray Warden saying I got to go with him or die. I thought Tamlen died.”

She’d gone. Back to the temple with Merrill, wanting to find a body, sure as the sun sets that the shemlen Warden hadn't bothered with her dead and may be lying about her condition. There had been no body. Just a corrupted mirror which she’d shattered because it had taken her friend. Her only friend. The one who’d known her like the Dread Wolf knew treachery.

“It wasn't my friend. But it had his face and...” Her mouth worked, her throat sealing her fear inside her, making it difficult to speak.

“What if that happens?” she asked, barely a whisper. “To ya? To Leliana? Or Morrigan? To me? Is that my fate? To become…? Is that what’s happening to those people left in the south? I can't do this, Zev! Not over and over again!”
Dec 27 2017, 02:17 PM
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