hallarider | thinking that you're all I ever need now

thinking that you're all I ever need now

[for

pavus_redemit]

It wasn't something Bramen ever expected to truly happen and yet, here they found themselves. Here he stood, no longer as the Inquisitor, no longer Andraste's herald - but rather, a man. A hunter of the Lavellan clan, just a man with a talent for taming harts. He'd never expected to find this again, even if just for a little while and yet, here he was, approaching the aravels of his clan, all eyes turning towards him - and the companion at his side. There was something tense in the air but it was quickly overwhelmed by joy. Despite the uncertain glances in Dorian's direction, there were cries of joy at the sight of one of their own returning. The elves began to approach, most welcoming Bramen with open arms.

The two of them had spoken of this frequently enough - finding the Lavellan clan, spending time among them. A piece of the elf felt it was all just a dream though, something that might never come to fruition. They had already made a few attempts to contact the clan, to locate them and all of them had been met with disappointment. Not this time though. Leliana's men had taken greater care when locating the clan, relying on hearsay from local villages. That had been enough to get them moving in the right direction.

The sun was starting to lower in the sky, the evening would be settling upon them soon enough. It had been a long hike to get out this far, both men needed a good rest. It might be some time before they could do that, however - not with the way the clan was keeping their distance on the approaching pair. They recognised one of their own easily enough but it was clear his companion was to be met with a great deal of hesitation. Bramen hoped Dorian didn't blame them.

He could feel his pulse racing as they approached, though still unable to hide the smile across his face, one that continued to broaden. The clan spoke in Elvhen, speaking loud and fast as two older hunters moved to either side of the Inquisitor. They both urged him to stop, looking him over, patting his shoulders before laughing - continuing to speak in their tongue, words Dorian wasn't able to pick out. Bramen responded to both men, returning the touch they both offered.

Moreso Dorian, however. Bramen knew how little his partner liked being outdoors like this for long periods. He gestured to the mage near him, speaking in his own tongue to the pair of hunters who took a long look at the mage. They looked uncertain and stern, the tattoos across their face differing drastically from Bramen's own. They were both older men with shorter, brown hair and grey eyes. Brothers, more than likely. They continued to speak in Elvhen, looking to Dorian before turning their attention to Bramen. The words they spoke were too hard for the mage to decipher but one might have caught his eye, a word - or name - repeated more than once. Deshanna.

The pair of hunters motioned for Bramen to move on ahead, though they looked to Dorian and went still, eyes locking on the man. Bramen took a step forward and then paused, turning towards Dorian and looking a bit apologetic.

"They want you to stay here," he explained with a light frown, hoping that his lover wouldn't mind too much. He knew it was no doubt a bit unsettling. He wet his lips, gesturing towards the two hunters. "This is Camras and Deywen," he explained, "They want me to speak with the Keeper first before you join us."

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Bramen only gave Dorian a smile, knowing the elf he spoke of. Dalish was a good woman, the Chargers were a good team overall. It would be nice to bring the woman something to remind her of the clan she'd long left behind. Mages never had it easy, even among the Dalish clans, unfortunately. Taehel, however, grimaced a bit, giving another light hum.

"Don't have any ironbark staves made up," he said with a shake of his head, "We've only two mages to our clan, staves aren't in high demand," the man murmured, proceeding to pick up a few of the bone rings, examining the carvings upon them, looking for one that met Dorian's criteria.

"I remember Mihya used to go through staves quicker than our hunters went through arrows," Bramen piped up, giving the craftsmaster a thin smile. The man returned Bramen's glance, though there was a sadness behind his gaze.

"That she did, da'len. Never quite got used to riding while carrying her staff," he said, shaking his head. He offered Dorian one of the rings he'd carved, the ring with intricately carved deer skulls etched into the surface. On closer inspection, each of the skulls appeared connected with a thorny vine, the back of the ring having the image of a rose there. For such a small piece, the precise work on it was impeccable.

"That's one," Taehel said, before he offered up a bracelet, covered i a repeated pattern of deer with skulls on their heads, each biting the other's tail to remain together. Varied lines connected along the edge, creating a diamond-esque pattern.

"Falon'Din is our shepherd, guiding the dead and whispering kind promises in their ear. He promises them no more pain, to not fear their life's end, for he is with them now. He will not let what is dark take what remains of their light. We revere him and his soul, Dirthamen, as deeply as we revere any of our gods."

"So Bramen told me. I've been a horrible nag about learning his tales and histories," he said as he examined the ring. It was incredible work and of course skulls were common in necromancy and its symbolism. "I'm quite familiar with the spirits of the dead myself. I like to imagine Falon'Din and I would have very interesting conversations."

He tested the fit of the ring on his bare finger to see if it would fit. His hands were quite a bit thicker than elvhen ones. Still, he could change it with magic without damaging the work, possibly. He would have to make sure first.

"What do you think, amatus? Does it suit me?" He imagined the clan would not understand Tevene so he felt safe saying it.

"It suits you perfectly," Bramen beamed, overjoyed both because of his lover's interest in his culture and his people, being so welcoming to the man who meant so much to him. "It's a bit small though..." he murmured, glancing to the craftsmaster again. The old man nodded and looked to Dorian,

"I can have a larger one made in the next few days, my apprentice should be able to size your hand this evening, should you be willing," the man offered, "He could also look into that ironbark staff if you're quite serious on that matter. He isn't one to turn down practice on that."

"Thank you, Haren," Bramen bowed his head, "Your generous offer does not go unnoticed." He looked to Dorian, hoping the man would welcome it.

"Fantastic!" Dorian beamed and returned the ring to the craftsman. "What would I owe you for such work? Do not say no, your people's hospitality is gift enough. Let me return it some how."

He doubted people would welcome his magic to help them. Most people were a bit scared when a Tevinter magister offered to help them magically.

"Yes, thank you, Master Haren. You are most kind." He gave him an elegant bow.

Bramen couldn't help but let out a bit of a snort as Dorian addressed the older elf, grinning a bit to himself. Even Taehel let out a short laugh, raising his hand as he shook his head.

"Haren is my title, shem," he said, though he didn't speak the word maliciously. "It means Elder in our tongue," the man explained, "Elder Taehel. And we require nothing in return. As I have said, you've returned Bramen to us, you've kept him safe. We could not ask for anything of you, aso you ahve bestowed upon us such relief... Though should you insist, you may do a favour for me," the craftsman said, moving towards his aravel and opening one of the crates inside. He dug around a little before returning, offering Dorian up a stick of incense.

"Light this and place it upon Falon'Din's statue. That is where the two of you will be heading next," Taehel gave Bramen a brief glance, the younger elf nodding. It seemed the logical place.

Ah, the first social faus pas. Had Bramen taught him that? Dorian wracked his brain and yes, there it was. He knew that one and made a mistake. Well, good for him. Bramen was going to need to give him more lessons in the language.

"Master Elder seems like a good title," he said with a little laugh, trying to play off his embarrassment. "I will have to work on my understanding of your language, perhaps a few private lessons with Bramen later."

That was all? Dorian really wanted to give him some sort of gold or something to pay him for all his work. It didn't feel like enough to light incense. He took it carefully from the craftman's fingers.

"That I can do," he said looking over to Bramen. "If there is anything else you merely have to ask."

The elder gave a bit of a snort, a thin smile across his face. Incense was more than enough in his eyes.

"Ensure this one is taking care of himself," he said, gesturing towards Bramen, "Tell Mihya exactly what he's been up to. If she finds out he's let himself wear down, she'll be furious."

"We'll tell her," Bramen said, shaking his head as he gave the old man a smile. "Come on, Dorian. We'll head to Falon'Din's statue. It should be in the north." He motioned for Dorian to follow, the dog and the halla quick to accompany them as they moved away from the craftsman's aravel. Others in the camp watched the pair (and their new animal companions) move back to the edge of the camp, heading north of it to where a heavy and worn statue stood. It had no face, the details long faded from the slab of stone. The shape was vaguely elf-like, wearing a robe with extended hands. There was writing carved at the front of the stone, something in old Elvhen - too worn for Dorian to read though it no doubt depicted who the statue was supposed to be.

"it's said that this statue was carved by the first Keeper of the Lavellan clan," Bramen said, looking fondly upon it. "They say it goes back to the second Blight... And just like Falon'Din himself, remains strong and standing."

"Oh, don't worry. I will take care of him." That was one thing he would do without trouble. There was no better choice, really, to take care of Bramen.

He bowed one more time before he left and followed Bramen through the camp. He was certain the news of his slip would get around camp and people would know he had messed up so much.

"I thought you worshiped Mythal most of all," he said as he set the incense in the little hole that was clearly meant to be there for that exact purpose. "Has it been Falon'Din all along?"

He created a little flame in between his fingers and lit the stick. There, task done.

"Oh, we worship Mythal. Mythal, Elgar'nan, Andruil, June, Sylaise..." Bramen shook his head, reaching out to touch one of those outstretched hands of the statue. He squeezed it a little and breathed out through his nose, looking towards the statue's face.

"We roam so often, we can never be certain where our dead lie. We know as our bodies turn to dust, trees and life will flourish from where we remain - but the clan never gets to keep a piece of that with us. We keep Falon'Din's presence with us to remind us of those who have crossed over, to those who now walk at his side. We can't say prayers at the graves of our loved ones, but we can speak them here." Bramen glanced down to the ground, looking at the grass that sprouted around the base of the statue.

"There are old stories that say Dirthamen's ravens linger near depictions of Falon'Din. They whisper our secrets to Dirthamen who returns to his brother's side, seeks out all of our loved ones and tells them what we've said."

"A necromancer may be able to help you find them," he said, running his fingers over his mustache. "It's harder to find the long dead than the fresh dead but it could be done."

Would they appreciate it is the question? It seemed the Dalish liked their ways and Dorian did his best to respect that even if he felt there were better ways. He was trying to remember what he thought was better didn't always match up with what was really better.

"But... that is another matter for another time." Dorian put an arm around Bramen's waist and held him against his side. "For now I will spend time with my Dirthamen."

Bramen leaned a little against Dorian, smiling a bit at the familiar warmth. He closed his eyes for a moment, smiling a little to himself. "It's kind of you to say," he began, "But we don't need a necromancer. This is where my people find their comfort, just like many humans take comfort in worshipping Andraste and the Maker." He opened his eyes, looking fondly up at Dorian. He knew the man wouldn't try and force anything in his people. He took the opportunity to pat Dorian's hand and eased himself upright again, no longer leaning against the man.

"Mihya was Haren Taehel's daughter," he began, "She was a mage, like Meallan. The Keeper's second. She preferred to focus on alchemy and healing. She was a good woman, a good friend." He looked back to Falon'Din's statue, reaching out to hold its hand again and squeezing the stone.

"We were ten when she was betrothed to me..." he worried his bottom lip a little, "And she was twelve when she found herself walking at his side."

That was the first Dorian had ever heard that Bramen had a promised wife. He hadn't even mentioned it when Dorian talked about what his father wanted and what his father had done.

This moment was not about him, though. He turned towards his lover and took both of his hands in his. They were alone out here. It seemed safe to touch as they would back in Skyhold.

"I am sorry," he said softly and kissed the corner of Bramen's mouth. "I'm sure you cared for her, even if it was only as friend and family."

Bramen turned his head a bit to nuzzle against the side of Dorian's face, returning that light kiss. "She was a good friend," he explained, releasing the statue's hand and reaching up to touch Dorian's cheek. "Among the Dalish, the Keeper often tries to pair us as children. The Keeper speaks to both parents, determine if they feel it's a good match. In the end, once we become adults - we still have a choice in it. We have the final say as to whether or not we wish to marry," it was very different from anything in Tevinter, "I still miss her - but in a way, it's better we never married."

He turned his head, smile a bit pensive as he looked to his lover.

"After all - we both know I'm not too interested in women."

"Your clan understands," he reassured him. "Even if it's not favorable, they clearly still adore you. Are you a hero here too? Was there some incredibly heroic thing you did before becoming Inquisitor?"

These people adored Bramen, it was so easy to see. Dorian was a bit jealous but he was happier for him. Bramen had a group of people who loved him regardless of who he loved and what he preferred in bed.

Bramen's expression turned almost sheepish, his ears turning a bit pink as he brought his hand around to rub at the back of his neck. "A hero? I wouldn't exactly call myself that..." he said with a short chuckle. "I wouldn't say I've done anything heroic - but the clan often found ways to talk about myself and Meallan. He and I were usually up to something, the Keeper usually had to keep an eye on us."

He stepped away and walked a bit, kicking at the ground before he looked over his shoulder, giving Dorian a bit of a grin. "Meallan once said I wouldn't be able to catch a wild hart. I told him I could not only catch it, I'd ride it bareback all the way back to camp. While the hunters were busy trying to determine the best place to lure one, I'd climbed a tree and kept watch. They slowly started getting it into place - I jumped out of the tree, landed on it's back. Let's just say he didn't appreciate that very much - nor did the rest of the clan when he destroyed two aravels trying to throw me off."

Dorian gaped at him for a moment because honestly of all the reckless, foolish and stupid things his lover could have done as a child riding a wild hart like that was probably the most believable thing.

"I am always surprised that we actually managed to meet with how reckless you are," he said with a laugh and caught up to him. "You're lucky I adore you so much with how often you try to give me a heart attack."

"Would you believe me if I said I was the less reckless one between myself and Meallan?" he asked with a laugh, stepping closer to the statue again. The halla had decided to move closer, opting to step between the two men in order to nibble at the grass that the statue's base. Bramen put his hands on the halla's back, leaning against them as he looked to Dorian.

It was a wonder he managed to meet the man sometimes. But it was true - he wasn't nearly as reckless as his twin. In fact, he was considered the responsible one of the pair. He pat the halla, resting his cheek against her back.

"Meallan was so fascinated by storms, he used to think that if allowed himself to be struck by lightning, his magical talents would amplify without having to practice. We all but had to tie him down when the summer rains came."

"You're both mad. Honestly mad." Dorian was a bit reckless with his magic but he had never done something so stupid or believed something so stupid. "What on earth made him thinking being able to do magic would keep lightning from killing him?"

He huffed out a breath. "When we meet your brother am I going to have to give him a lecture about the basic principles of magic? Honestly, your people can practice freely. How can you not know these limits?"

Dorian threw up his hands in frustration.

"We were young and we were daring," Bramen said with a shake of his head, almost amused by Dorian's exasperation. "He's long since learned, the Keeper has taught him everything she could. Dalish magic is still very different from anything they see in Tevinter though, don't forget that. Your magic has structure, a Dalish mage is free like the wind."

He braced his hands on the halla's back and hoisted himself up onto it. She tensed up for a moment from the sudden weight but didn't flinch, content to nibble the grass a bit longer. It seemed as though she was used to this. Bramen gave her neck a pat and reached out towards Dorian, hoping to help him up onto the creature as well.

"Besides... We both know you've pushed magic to its limits as well. Don't pretend you're innocent of that - that knowledge helped the Inquisition greatly."

"A man theoretically invents time travel magic and you think he pushed the limits," Dorian scoffed, though he knew Bramen meant other times that he pushed himself to near exhaustion in the pursuit of knowledge.

He gave Bramen a look for wanting him on the back of the halla but accepted his hand anyway. He climbed on with a bit less grace than his lover but managed it.

"I have helped you greatly." He rested his chin on Bramen's shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist. "But I don't think of myself as reckless."

Considering how graceful halla were, they were astonishingly sturdy creatures. The deer easily supported both Bramen and Dorian's weight looking up and glancing back at them as Bramen patted the animal's neck. He smiled and turned his head a bit, kissing Dorian's forehead as best he could from the angle they were at - quite contented to have the man's chin upon his shoulder. Bramen pat the halla's neck again, patting the left side and the halla turned and began to walk in that direction - a careful and steady pace with her two riders.

It was certainly a far less bumpy ride than being on the hart, though a much slower pace. It was as though the halla moved in hopes of not disturbing a single blade of grass.

"You're done incredible things," Bramen admitted, easing back into his mage's arms. "And I suppose I wouldn't call you reckless either... Daring to dream, maybe."

He chuckled softly and squeezed Bramen tightly for a moment. "I think my greatest accomplishment was not magical."

Being with Bramen, loving him and learning from him was truly the most incredible thing he had done. It was something he never thought he would get a chance to do. He had hidden away parts of himself, kept people from knowing them so he couldn't be hurt.

Now, he had someone, he had Bramen who he could be vulnerable with and share secrets with.

Bramen let out a soft chuckle as Dorian squeezed him, bringing his hand to Dorian's around his middle. He stroked along the back of his lover's hand, turning his head to better give the man a fond look. He knew what Dorian was referring to. Even though the man wasn't often outwardly affection, even though he didn't normally voice his deep and private affections, Bramen knew.

"I like to think we're pretty magical," he said with a smile, giving Dorian's hand a little squeeze.

"Maker," Dorian rolled his eyes. "That was horrible joke, horrible. It's almost as bad as all the jokes Bull makes about my staff."

Those jokes are terribly old and recycled. Dorian had no idea how there were any mage and staff jokes left to make, honestly. Everyone kept trying though. Sera probably was the most creative and half the time Dorian didn't really understand what she was saying.

"You are not allowed to make jokes anymore. I forbid you."

"I thought you liked my jokes," Bramen grinned wide positively beaming. Even if Dorian was rolling his eyes over it, he knew the man appreciated it. He continued to stroke his lover's hand, leaning back a bit further to brush the tip of his nose against the side of the man's temple.

"But if you insist, no more jokes."

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Holy layout change! I thought I had the wrong place at first, lol

hah yeah I've been messing around with changing the layout. Still not happy with it.

it's pretty

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