Summary: You’re sick and you don’t know why. Sam tries his best to keep you sane through it all.
Sam x Reader, Dean, Castiel
Word Count: 2,525
Warnings: some angst, some fluff, swearing, illness, tiny bit of smut at the end (I think that’s it)
A/N: My entry for @impala-dreamer‘s “Titles Are Hard” challenge. My title was “I Won’t Back Down”.
I used my own unknown illness I’ve been dealing with for over a year as heavy inspiration for this as it was the first scenario to pop in my head to fit the title. This is un-beta’d and if I don’t post it now, I’ll obsess over it and ruin it by picking it apart. XD I hope you enjoy.
“Ye gonna drink that or gaze lovingly into it all night?” Jorie, owner and operator of The Rook tavern, nodded to Raven’s half filled glass. It was well past the time when the more respectable folk had departed and even a bit past when the not-so-respectable folk had. A lone waitress swept and stacked chairs onto the round tables, gathering the last of the empty glasses into a tray.
Raven sat at the bar, indeed staring into his glass as he spun it in a slow circle, watching the lights reflect off the facets on its surface. “Hmm? Oh,” he said, broken free of his reverie. He upended the glass of bourbon and sat it back down, pushing it forward. “ ‘nother, please” Raven said quietly, his voice was heavy with thought and drink.
Jorie took the glass and dunked into the sink of soapy water, “oh no no,” he chuckled. “I think yer done for the night, little bird.”
Acquired after Iseran’s companion quest, and asking him about why he and Atisha travelled alone.
Acquired after asking if he truly is a traveling keeper.
“We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit.”
Yet none of us walk as lonely and with so much lore in their hands as the traveling keepers.
They are mages like any keeper yet they wander without a clan fulfilling their duty to our people in ways only few could. Have you ever wondered what happens if a Keeper has more apprentices than they feel they can handle? Or how we all know when and where the next Arlathvhen will take place?
It is to their credit that we have not lost what little of our people and past we have left.
The traveling keepers are many things. Scholars, teachers, ambassadors, messengers and much more and they are to be treated with respect.
They voluntarily leave their clans, some even as soon as they come into their magic, and they travel alone most of the time, all over Thedas from clan to clan, to ensure that knowledge and news are exchanged and to safely guide young mages and hunter to other clans so none of them vanish into nothingness.
Some are even daring enough to wander into the shem cities and smuggle elves and young mages out, ensuring that they do not fall into Templar hands.
Always welcome them with open arms for our people owe them much and should you ever find yourself at the other end of their staff you better pray to the gods, for none of us knows could ever hope to defeat someone that fights shems on their own and walks as lonely as they do.
- Hahren Gharadriel, Storyteller of the Farathrin clan of the Dalish elves
nano 18: a Codex entry for traveling keepers probably should have done that one a lot earlier but better late than never.
Destiney walked forward through the dreamscape. Surely it had to be a dream. The broken buildings and strange sky. The lack of other people. It was a odd location. The atmosphere felt almost oppressive.
This wasn’t the usual bad dreams that plagued her on rare occasion. Their occurrence came about less and less anymore. The happier her life was, the less they had a chance of happening. Right now? Her life was very good.
So why was she having a bad dream now?
Feet pausing in her walk as she stood before a woman in red kneeling before a sword. The hat with it’s white feather hiding her face. Destiney tilted her head as she looked on with curiosity.
The woman’s hand reaching for the sword hilt as she stood. Blue eyes meeting their match. Destiney was staring at herself. In an outfit she had never worn before. Taking a step back in surprise as the phantom pointed the sword in her direction.
“Accept your Fate.”
Destiney reached for her own blade only to find it not there. Reaching for magic that refused to respond. Looking on in wide-eyed horror as nothing was there when she needed it. Falling backwards in panic when the phantom rushed her with that sword. Raising her arms to protect herself when nothing else worked.
Destiney lowered her arms to find the phantom of herself gone. The sword was there in the ground before her though. Slowly she stood up as she looked towards that blade. Once more the words of the phantom rang in her ears.
“Accept your Fate.”
Hand reaching for the hilt of that sword. Testing to see if this was what the phantom wanted. Yet before she could touch it…
Destiney gasped as she opened her eyes to stare up at the ceiling above her. What a strange dream… She didn’t understand any of it. Of course she was working on her red magic and sword work. So what was with the odd dream? Maybe it was all she had eaten and drank at the party. Yeah maybe that was it. Just a strange dream.
This is a very soft, gentle, and passive blessing for those who are constantly under a lot of stress or seem to be suffering a lot of misfortune.
Spell components • Powdered sugar • Soft natural wool yarn • Sunlight • Dried lavender • A bottle • A tag lock of the one you’re doing the spell for
Best performed during a waning moon. Ideally performed the day after the moon is full.
On a sunny day, take all your spell components somewhere there is plenty of sunlight and where people either go to relax or play. Take your powdered sugar and lavender and mix, letting it sit.
Take the yarn and make a string about seven (single) arm lengths long. As you do so, let it gather the sun’s energy and catch a calm breeze. Take the string and lay it in the sugar, being sure to work it and some of the lavender into the yarn. As you do so, use the following rhyme and speak it over the sugar bowl softly.
“Soft and sweet Rest your feet Hope and heart Shall not part Chin kept high See the sky Soon at last This shall pass”
Take the tag lock, which can be anything from a picture, to a name, or even something like hair or the like if you got it, and wrap it up in the sugary wool yarn. Should you feel it’s appropriate, you might want to kiss the bundle before putting it into the jar.