therookery | lately i've been waiting for my body to feel like a body

Wish you'd have warned me.

[--Bellamy says, to Gwen, in passing that abruptly becomes not passing, as he stops walking when he encounters her. Wherever he encounters her this time.

It is not conspicuous that Bellamy has been taking on missions and assignments around Skyhold in the immediate vicinity, never straying terribly far from the Inquisition's stronghold. This doesn't concern Gwen, who has more than her share of concerns. It's still true. Bellamy has run into her as often as possible: this is also true, but Skyhold is only so large, and he hasn't been avoiding her. Never stayed for long.

Now he gives her half a smile, a pretty familiar expression. Folds his arms.]

( he hasn't avoided her, but -

the opportunities to see or choose toavoid her have been fewer, 'as often as possible' not meaning as much as it might've done another time. gwenaëlle is not the ever present shadow with a notebook that she has been; since returning to skyhold, she's left her quarters on specific errands or not at all, and yngvi's presence outside her door has discouraged casual visits.

she doesn't smile back, clutches the leash of the small (for now) puppy circling her skirts and manages not to frown or step away and considers those small victories good enough. )

What?

( an honest question. )

That I wasn't going to have anything to read this month.

[Not that he blames her. Instead of meeting her eye just yet, Bellamy looks down at the puppy. Back at his camp, Dally is probably doing the same thing to Clarke, though without the full drape of skirts to contend with. Boots and rocks and stuff instead.

He crouches, offers his hand to the puppy. They're standing close enough to each other that it won't be a terrible strain on the leash if he's taken up on that offer. From here, he darts a glance up at Gwen, makes a quick study of her face.]

Figured that meant it was my turn, so I brought you something instead.

( hardie isn't completely sure, at first; taking his cues from gwenaëlle, whose body language does not exactly scream 'this is all totally fine'. it takes her a moment to realise that, and crouch down, too, swallow her nerves and encourage the pup forward. )

I didn't - plan it that way.

( she'd written to her editors with a belated apology, and the acute, uncomfortable awareness that she'll still be able to submit something new next month without consequence for this misstep because her father could comfortably buy and sell their entire business without bothering to look at how much he paid for it. )

What did you bring me?

( emboldened by the growing ease, hardie's investigatory sniffing heads for the junk. thanks for crouching, big man. )

Don't get too excited. I don't have any money.

[So it won't be fancy, he means, or the level of gifts she's probably used to receiving, fancy lady that she is. And so on. He shifts his attention from courting her puppy's affection to reaching inside his jacket, which shifts his stance in the crouch a little, which is about the time Hardie's sniffing really ramps up.

Wait.]

Hey, c'mon--

[--muttered, under his breath. Bellamy pushes at the puppy, not unkindly, just a little gruff, more used to working dogs and the hardy Dally than any other kind of animal.]

( it's stupid to feel hurt, she thinks; he doesn't mean to call her ungrateful, probably, just unused to simpler things. she swallows the impulse to defend herself with a laundry list of simple gifts she's very much appreciated, thank you, and instead concerns herself with persuading hardie that bellamy's personal areas are less interesting than he thinks.

probably best he learns that while he's still small enough that she can still nudge him correctively; when he's the full grown guard dog he's supposed to be, he'll be stronger than she is and she's going to get herded for her own good if she isn't careful. )

Commander Rutherford is helping me train him, ( quietly. ) There's still a bit to do.

Edited 2016-10-27 22:58 (UTC)

Commander Rutherford?

[Wow. He raises his eyebrows as the puppy is successfully deterred. (For now.)]

I guess I'm not the only one that finds you charming, if you got a commander agreeing to help you train your dog. At least he'll be good at taking orders.

[And to help with the persuasion efforts, Bellamy rearranges himself, sits down in earnest on the ground with his legs folded under him. There. Less of a-- target. Maybe.]

What's he called?

I'm charming. I charm people.

( ...sure, jan. it would also be more convincing an argument if she sounded less indignant, probably, but hardie noses back under her hands and she sighs. )

His name is Hardie. I didn't choose him, he was a gift. ( from thranduil, and that's another kettle of fish entirely, her brows drawing together in a stormy little frown as she thinks of him.

nothing is simple any more.

nothing was ever simple, really, but sometimes she got to pretend. )

Hardie.

[Bellamy doesn't call any specific attention to the significance of the name, though he does betray himself a little by shooting a quick look at Gwen after he's echoed her. Very quick. She's frowning enough that she'll likely miss it.

He offers his hand to Hardie as a peace offering. Or maybe as a distraction, since he's got to shift his crouch (and, you know, crotch) to dig something out of a pouch situated nearly at his back.]

I wonder which one of you is going to end up more charming. Huh, Hardie?

[Talking to dogs is totally normal. Bellamy succeeds in freeing his gift, which he holds out to Gwen over the puppy's head.]

Here.

[It's small, well-worn but not necessarily well-read, like it's been in a saddlebag traveling around for awhile. Black painted lettering spells out the title: HISTORIES AND LEGENDS OF THE FREE MARCHES.

Maybe not her style. It's the thought that counts.]

( morrigan had been the first one to whom she'd said the words - she was my mama - on purpose, but not the first person that she'd ever told. no, that had been asher hardie, taking her secret to his grave only a matter of weeks before she wept it out over guenievre's; thranduil gave her the dog to keep her safe. it makes sense to name him for someone who made her feel that way.

but she doesn't catch his look, and she doesn't care to explain herself. hardie noses closer again (dangerously close!!) while his little mistress rolls her eyes at this talking to dogs like they might talk back business -

which she will probably adopt in time, anyway

- only to catch herself, head tilted, when presented with the book. her small smile is involuntary, and the sweeter for it. )

This is very thoughtful.

[When you grow up in the wilderness with your secret sister as your only real company, you end up talking to a lot of animals. It's a habit Bellamy has tried to break himself of, in order to better pass as a tough Templar; it's a habit he only really manages to suppress, with intermittent success.

He's still a little gruff in trying to push Hardie away, but the puppy is nothing if not persistent. This means that Bellamy's attention is divided, and saves him the trouble of acting truly awkward or weird about having handed this book over to Gwen.]

I used to have a copy. That one's newer--you can keep it, if you want it. Probably take better care of it. Books shouldn't be out in a camp, they belong on shelves. I know you've got others.

Stop. [--which he mutters in a quiet firm undertone. Hardie seems disinclined to obey all the same, and wriggles easily out from under Bellamy's hand.]

lately i've been waiting for my body to feel like a body

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