Inquisitor Bramen Lavellan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hallarider) wrote2015-02-18 08:22 am
hallarider) wrote2015-02-18 08:22 am
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."
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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But there were things in the human world he simply couldn't leave behind. Dorian in particular.
The night carried on, many of the clan gathering around, asking Dorian questions about Bramen, about the Inquisition, about the world he came from. They limited their interaction with humans with just cause - but to have one in their camp was a strange and fascinating thing. Everyone seemed to want to ask Dorian things, some of the younger elves were incredibly curious about the man's moustache, one little elven girl daring to try and touch it before her father grabbed her around the middle and picked her up, apologising profusely.
One of the elders rose up and began to tell a story, speaking all in complex Elvhen - though Dorian picked up a few words. Fen'Harel, Sylaise and June, names of their gods. Bramen moved in closer, whispering an interpretation to Dorian as the elder moved animatedly before the fire.
"He's telling the tale of when Sylaise created fire," he murmured, close to Dorian's ear, "When June took her gift and used it to forge remarkable things, creating our first daggers and bows. As he revelled in his talent, he made Elgar'nan a sword of silverite, the hilt made from the bones of a wolf. It's said with Sylaise's magic, he was able to melt the bones like metal, mould and polish it all the same. A gift for the All Father, a request for his blessing. Fen'Harel stole it before June could present it - and the story says when June found him, the Forgotten Ones had accosted the wolf and shattered the blade out of spite."
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"Very different from the old Tevinter legends," he said softly in return. "The end of the story involves a magister getting his liver eaten out by a deep stalker for the rest of eternity."
All in all Bramen's tale was much nicer. Then again many of Bramen's tales were much nicer than Tevinter legend. There was a lot of blood and death in Tevinter lore.
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"Thank you for coming here," the elf whispered, hoping not to disrupt the elder's story, speaking quietly for his lover's ears only, "I'm glad you were able to meet my clan like this."
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Yet, Dorian dreaded the eventually day he would take Bramen to Tevinter. His lover would not be treated well even if he dressed in the finest clothing and gilded him with gold. He would always be an elf, seen as the lowest of the low. Dorian wanted to share his homeland with Bramen but he knew there would be no hiding the ugliness from him.
Hopefully, he should share something redeeming with his lover.