tinybluepixel
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The blood rushes through his ears and drowns out all other noise as he goes still. Intentionally, he reaches deep within himself, down to the very essence of what makes him the person he is, and twists it, knows it. It hurts; of course it does. But in the end, he opens his eyes again and he knows that he has to go on.
In this moment, the Archivist forces himself to become Jonathan Sims once more.
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I'm sorry for all the things I said, and for those I didn't say by tinybluepixel
Fandoms: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age - All Media Types
22 Sep 2020
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Just past where they’re standing, where the ground hasn’t been trampled by the feet of travelers to and from Redcliffe, just past the bare earth and the patches of mud, there’s a large patch of grass. On it, a smattering of daisies grow, their soft delicate petals tinged slightly pink at the tips. Alistair walks over to it, bends down, and picks the one that he thinks is prettiest. It’s missing a single petal on one side, but the underside is a brilliant pink, brighter and more vibrant than all the others. He holds it in his hands for a second, then gently, carefully places it behind her ear.
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On the road to Recliffe, Alistair thinks about how he is going to tell the party (and the Warden) about who he really is.