Elsa Zerbino Vargas (elsavargas) wrote in thedas, @ 2010-10-18 21:12:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ! thread, & 9:45 (5) molioris, @ brennan wulfe, @ elsa vargas |
Redcliffe holds the key to your heart
Who: Brennan Wulfe and Elsa Vargas
What: Elsa seeks out Brennan to get some answers or is it the other way around?
When: 9:45, 29 Molioris, the same night as the fight.
Where: Redcliffe
Rating: Um, I forgot?
It was not the adrenaline of the battle. She knew this because she had done battle before. Only small encounters with farmers or wild animals, where she somehow found the power to protect herself, without knowing how; but it wasn’t the fighting that made her feel like this, Elsa was sure of it.
Fighting made her feel exhilarated, in control, alive and bursting with vitality. This feeling was a ball of nervous agony twisting in her stomach. Her heart was beating too fast and it was hard to breathe – and at the same time, she didn’t feel bad at all. She felt nervous and happy at the same time, as if the torment tasted sweetly.
She was looking for the tall man. She didn’t have a name to the face, just this feeling that she had met him many times before; indeed that she had known him. He had been such a recurring figure in her dreams that at first she had not been quite sure she was awake. But she was and even though she had looked for him, he had slipped away in the aftermath of the battle. So here she was searching through the village, as she had never looked for a person before, indeed the way a woman without memories would search for a person who she had suddenly recognized.
Once or twice there had been men in heavy armour, making their way through the village, the slight clanking sound of them almost making Elsa run away. Yesterday it would have. Today she had a goal, something to aim for, rather than flee and continue her wanderings. So she only dragged her faded grey shawl over her head, twisting a fold of it so she could use it to hide her face if need be. Hurrying along she did not find her quarry anywhere – even going so far as to timidly peeking into the village inn. She was on the verge of giving up and labelling the man a figment of her imagination, when the water glittering in the distance made her realise the place she had not checked.
Hesitatingly she followed the path towards the water. It made her uncomfortable, the vastness and darkness of it, but she knew she could not rest until she had made sure that the man was real.
And there suddenly he was, and that feeling that she could not quite find a word for got stronger.
Her back straightened out of reflex, her chin rising slightly to keep the nervousness at bay. He was the first man she had approached out of her free will – usually she preferred to deal with women if she could and men only if she was forced to. Nevertheless, her feet slowed down of their own accord, and her hands took an anxious hold of the folds of her dress. Step by step she came closer. When she was close enough she suddenly found she had no idea what she was going to say, all words disappearing in the sudden enormity of finding someone who had a familiar face.
“I wanted to talk to you…” she began tentatively, not aware that the nerves were making her accent even thicker. Words then abandoning her altogether, she just stood there, tense and with here gaze lowered to the dark ground.