"He's handsome," buys Ellis a little time to consider the gloves. A small kindness. And they'll be of use, in the journey through the Anderfels. Ellis hasn't forgotten how miserable the terrain can be.
One bare hand strokes up the horse's shaggy neck.
"We'll get on well enough, I think."
Well enough to think of a name? Maybe. Ellis' naming skills are perhaps less imaginative than Adrasteia might be hoping for.
His attention shifts back to her, grip flexing on the gloves.
You can thank me when you get back, crosses her mind but is discarded as too harsh, too... emotionally involved as a response. It's an interesting balancing act, sometimes, having feelings for someone who she's certain doesn't have feelings for her, and might resent her if she confessed her own.
Instead she nods, once, a small smile on her lips.
"I know you'll be careful." Because there's a lot on his shoulders, she imagines. People here who depend on him, who expect him to survive. "But I crafted some potions for you, just in case." They're in a bag at her feet, which she nudges in his direction with her toes. "There's healing potions, obviously, but a few offensive grenades as well."
A quirk of a smile finds its way to Ellis' face, as if he knows what's gone unspoken. Ellis will be careful because Tony has made it a condition of this venture. He will be careful because he has promised to come back and there is no other way to do so than to be very, very cautious in the way he proceeds onward from here.
Because he wants to come back, perhaps. (A more complicated thing.)
Ellis tucks the gloves into his pocket on his way to crouching to lift the bag. There is the clink of glass from within, which Ellis weighs up and then, very carefully, stows in the saddlebag before he tells her, "I'll do my best not to use any of them."
Potentially the best thanks he might give her.
"I'm not afraid," comes on the heels of some quiet scrutiny of her expression. "So you needn't be either."
Adrasteia takes a breath, nods. Attempts to loosen some of the tension along her spine, in her shoulders. Accept. Breathe. "Alright." Is it that simple; can she just set aside her fears in favor of his fearlessness?
Maybe. Maybe not. She's going to try her level best, however.
Worrying has rarely gotten her anything good, after all.
"Is there anything you want me to keep an eye on while you're gone?"
He's not convinced her of anything. Ellis knows he hasn't from the look on her face, the way Adrasteia tries to forcibly shake the worry from her body. But this is all he has, this reassurance that he is not afraid and he believes this is a thing that can be done.
It is a risk, yes. But it feels less of one than many things he's done in his life.
"Yes."
Of course there is. Between them, he reaches to take her hand. Beneath this glove, Ellis knows there's a shard. He still disapproves, but now—
Well. There's nothing to be done. The flicker of frustrated anger dissipates as he runs his thumb across her gloved palm, pausing briefly over where the shard may lie.
"Mind this," he says first. "And see that Tony and Wysteria keep safe, if possible."
There's still a stab of guilt when she sees his fleeting expression, even this many months after she made the decision that led to both the shard and his displeasure. Maybe she should have let him talk her out of it, or at least given him the opportunity to try; but it's beyond them both, now.
"I will," she promises. It's both easy and not to forget she's done this. Gloves are nothing new to her, and she's kept part of herself locked away from strangers' eyes before. "So far nothing has changed about it." Just in case he was wondering.
As far as Tony and Wysteria go, well. She swallows, and nods, before leaning up on her toes and kissing Ellis on the cheek. "I'll do all I can to keep them safe. Despite the Provost's...everything." Difficulty at staying out of dangers' way, for starters. Wysteria is nearly as bad but. At least some of that doesn't appear to be her fault, as far as Adrasteia can tell.
puts the most shamed hand over timestamps, forgive
Ellis bends to meet her, opposite hand coming to her hip to steady her. If there's some minor tension pulling his shoulders tighter, it doesn't culminate in anything spoken aloud.
Adrasteia is well, and the shard doesn't pain her. She can be trusted to keep Tony and Wysteria safe as can be in the midst of Riftwatch's work. And Adrasteia will be well, because that is her habit.
"Thank you," is what he tells her, though he's equally sincere over this second expression of gratitude. "If we're lucky, it will be a quiet few months."
Though the chances of Riftwatch staying collectively out of trouble for more than a week at a time—
Well.
"They'll keep you busy, so you'll have little time to worry over me."
She makes a disapproving sound at his mention of 'luck' and presses her lips together, amused but shaking her head. Clearly, he's gone and jinxed it now— but she won't say as much. Especially when he's just about to leave.
"Truly," she says instead, of Wysteria and Tony and their collective ability to keep her worried about them instead of him. She smiles. Adrasteia suspects she'll worry anyway. It's just the sort of stuff she's made of.
There's nothing left to say. No more goodbyes or good lucks or well-wishes. She won't jinx them doubly. "May Andraste watch over you," she says instead, hoping that her prayers are more than just noise in this moment.
She needs him to come back in one piece and alive.
There is no need to contradict her, though it seems that Andraste turned her face from him long ago. This is about Adrasteia, what might give her some small comfort in the face of what they're attempting.
And so here, instead of gratitude, Ellis lifts a hand to cup her cheek. He bends, sets a brief, soft kiss to the crown of her forehead.
"I will see you soon," Ellis promises, as he draws away. Not a good-bye. The same easy thing that might be said if he were riding out to see to a rift, or run an errand in Kirkwall. Soon.
Soon as if he is not going so far.
He takes the reins. It's time to make his way to the ferry, and that promise will have to hold space for him until he makes good on it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bless u
One bare hand strokes up the horse's shaggy neck.
"We'll get on well enough, I think."
Well enough to think of a name? Maybe. Ellis' naming skills are perhaps less imaginative than Adrasteia might be hoping for.
His attention shifts back to her, grip flexing on the gloves.
"Thank you."
no subject
You can thank me when you get back, crosses her mind but is discarded as too harsh, too... emotionally involved as a response. It's an interesting balancing act, sometimes, having feelings for someone who she's certain doesn't have feelings for her, and might resent her if she confessed her own.
Instead she nods, once, a small smile on her lips.
"I know you'll be careful." Because there's a lot on his shoulders, she imagines. People here who depend on him, who expect him to survive. "But I crafted some potions for you, just in case." They're in a bag at her feet, which she nudges in his direction with her toes. "There's healing potions, obviously, but a few offensive grenades as well."
no subject
Because he wants to come back, perhaps. (A more complicated thing.)
Ellis tucks the gloves into his pocket on his way to crouching to lift the bag. There is the clink of glass from within, which Ellis weighs up and then, very carefully, stows in the saddlebag before he tells her, "I'll do my best not to use any of them."
Potentially the best thanks he might give her.
"I'm not afraid," comes on the heels of some quiet scrutiny of her expression. "So you needn't be either."
no subject
Maybe. Maybe not. She's going to try her level best, however.
Worrying has rarely gotten her anything good, after all.
"Is there anything you want me to keep an eye on while you're gone?"
no subject
It is a risk, yes. But it feels less of one than many things he's done in his life.
"Yes."
Of course there is. Between them, he reaches to take her hand. Beneath this glove, Ellis knows there's a shard. He still disapproves, but now—
Well. There's nothing to be done. The flicker of frustrated anger dissipates as he runs his thumb across her gloved palm, pausing briefly over where the shard may lie.
"Mind this," he says first. "And see that Tony and Wysteria keep safe, if possible."
no subject
"I will," she promises. It's both easy and not to forget she's done this. Gloves are nothing new to her, and she's kept part of herself locked away from strangers' eyes before. "So far nothing has changed about it." Just in case he was wondering.
As far as Tony and Wysteria go, well. She swallows, and nods, before leaning up on her toes and kissing Ellis on the cheek. "I'll do all I can to keep them safe. Despite the Provost's...everything." Difficulty at staying out of dangers' way, for starters. Wysteria is nearly as bad but. At least some of that doesn't appear to be her fault, as far as Adrasteia can tell.
puts the most shamed hand over timestamps, forgive
Adrasteia is well, and the shard doesn't pain her. She can be trusted to keep Tony and Wysteria safe as can be in the midst of Riftwatch's work. And Adrasteia will be well, because that is her habit.
"Thank you," is what he tells her, though he's equally sincere over this second expression of gratitude. "If we're lucky, it will be a quiet few months."
Though the chances of Riftwatch staying collectively out of trouble for more than a week at a time—
Well.
"They'll keep you busy, so you'll have little time to worry over me."
A blessing, right?
always always
"Truly," she says instead, of Wysteria and Tony and their collective ability to keep her worried about them instead of him. She smiles. Adrasteia suspects she'll worry anyway. It's just the sort of stuff she's made of.
There's nothing left to say. No more goodbyes or good lucks or well-wishes. She won't jinx them doubly. "May Andraste watch over you," she says instead, hoping that her prayers are more than just noise in this moment.
She needs him to come back in one piece and alive.
just in time to stick a lil bow on this i think
And so here, instead of gratitude, Ellis lifts a hand to cup her cheek. He bends, sets a brief, soft kiss to the crown of her forehead.
"I will see you soon," Ellis promises, as he draws away. Not a good-bye. The same easy thing that might be said if he were riding out to see to a rift, or run an errand in Kirkwall. Soon.
Soon as if he is not going so far.
He takes the reins. It's time to make his way to the ferry, and that promise will have to hold space for him until he makes good on it.