Simplicitate Cordis Quaerite

And he didn't miss how the younger man's eyes flicked to his lips. If anything, that just made Jasper's grin widen. Well, with an invitation like that...

Unless alcohol and Wicked Grace were involved. That memory made a smirk threaten. Only an idiot would challenge an Antivan to a game of cards. He'd backed off but had been more than eager to watch as Cullen came to the rapid realisation that Josephine was not as unskilled at Wicked Grace as she had pretended to be at the start.

"Only socks huh?" Talon couldn't help but smirk. Now he was thinking about that and... Yeah, ok. That was a decent mental image, given what he'd seen of the man when he was in the sparring ring and-

The idea of him and the Commander was almost as ridiculous as imagining Corypheus waltzing through the gate of Skyhold with a white flag in hand.

"I have to do something to liven up those meetings. He just goes on and on about this division and that one and I don't think even Leliana and Josephine are particularly riveted listening to him."

Alistair looked to Duncan, who had managed to wrangle the nug into at least nibbling some bread from his hand. Beric too remained vigilant nearby, ears still perked but subtly more relaxed. It was such a contrast to the image that the Inquisitor created - bodies in the snow, people struggling to find their way through the storms - and Alistair found himself frowning.

"I'm not going to kick you out," he finally said. The words felt easier than he'd expected them, but he realized that it hadn't been his intention all along. "Whatever happened at Redcliffe - it has nothing to do with here. I'm not going to make your people suffer over a few sharp words, especially when they've already sacrificed so much."

It felt good to say, he thought. To know he was looking past the frustrations in order to move on. And Jasper looked as though he may have done much the same - the cocky Herald the blond had met in Redcliffe only lingered a little, replaced by a man who had already seen and experienced too much. Alistair was all too familiar with the notion.

"You know," he continued thoughtfully, "I thought when I was starting all this - putting on the crown, taking responsibility for Ferelden - I thought the hard part was going to be dealing with the nobles and all the politics of everything." He turned a thin, dry grin towards Jasper before turning his attention back to his son. "Turns out those parts are hard, but the hardest - The hardest is knowing that people live and die based on every decision you make. For better or worse of it, you're in control of so many lives you don't even see. And it's all just… guessing what the right decision might be."

What he hadn't expected was Alistair to speak so frankly on his own challenges with leadership. Jasper said nothing but listened attentively all the same.

He knew exactly what that felt like, Haven had hammered it home for him harder than any lesson he had ever learned. He kept returning in his mind to why they had chosen to stay in a town with no real fortifications, barely enough room to house everyone, and reeling from devastation on its doorstep. Logically, he knew it was the only base they had and that trying to move earlier would have been complicated and maybe even impossible. Still, the people of Haven had suffered twice over and the worst bit was seeing the bodies laid in the snow as they had trekked through the mountains, too weak and tired to continue so they had passed in their sleep or the ones who just collapsed and couldn't summon the strength to move.

"Thank you." Jasper's voice was quiet but his words were earnest. "They didn't deserve what happened to them. If I hadn't been there..."

If he hadn't been there then Corypheus would have never looked twice at the village. It didn't feel fair when he'd gotten away with bruised ribs, a dislocated arm, and some minor frostbite. If anyone had deserved to bear the brunt of it, it was him. He had been the real target.

"Does it ever get easier? How do you even cope with that? I'm still surprised I'm still standing at all."

Doctor. Not Dorian. That was a curious choice of words though, and he knew to an extent what it was that Jasper wanted from him. "Oh? How are you, is there anything I need to take a look at then," he said, hand lowered from his own chest and onto Jasper's thigh, rubbing it as he looked at him.

If this was an actual emergency, he wouldn't be this calm or focused on getting Dorian into the bedroom. Still, he appreciated the concern. His partner checking to make sure he was actually alright was something Jasper didn't realise could make him love Dorian more, but it did. Proof that the other man cared about him and not just for his body and the fun they had together. That was an old insecurity but one that Jasper was grateful to be proven wrong about time and time again.

He turned his head to press a kiss against Dorian's palm, hoping that would soothe any lingering concerns. It was just a game. Something to add an extra bit of fun to their sex.

And then dove right back into an acting performance worthy of an Oscar.

The thought of sitting up drew an immediate frown on Soren's face. He hadn't been 'here', he'd been asleep for... he didn't know how long, and all he wanted to do was sleep again. His body hurt all over.

But the promise of relief held in that clay cup Serra held was too much to resist. "No..." he grumbled. Like her, he didn't want to accept help... but after a moment of stuttered breath and a sigh, Soren gave in, at least halfway. His hands on Bjorn's head shifted to cup the back of that wide canine skull, and Bjorn understood. Using his muscular neck and shoulders to pull back, he hauled Soren's torso up several inches, giving Serra a chance to rearrange his pillow so that he might be propped up a bit.

Soren remained otherwise quiet however, until he was finally, at last, given that cup and was able to drink deeply for the first time in days. Whatever drips and drops that Serra had managed to trickle into his mouth during this time hadn't been enough. He gulped rapidly, not pulling back until the cup was empty, and he was panting to recover his breath.

After a moment, the bed dipped with her weight as she sat on the edge, teeth worrying at her lower lip as she tried to put the last few days into some sort of coherence for Soren. She addressed the situation as she knew it to the floor.

“The Divine is dead.” Serra said. There was no use in sugarcoating the truth and Soren would not thank her for it either. “There was some sort of explosion and…everyone who was in the building when it happened is dead. Leliana and I were up there right after it happened and…Maker, Soren. The place was torn to pieces. No one knows what happened for certain only that the explosion destroyed everything, killed everyone, and it somehow ripped a hole in the sky leading directly to the Fade. It’s huge. You can’t miss it. Leliana told me everyone has started calling it ‘the Breach’ and that there are other smaller tears like it opening and closing themselves all through the valley pouring demons out.”

She hadn’t left Soren’s side but Leliana had come to see her once or twice while she sat vigil. Her friend came with news and sympathy both. Outside the four walls of the cabin was madness and more death and a seeming never-ending army of demons. Serra almost felt guilty that she hadn’t been there to try to help but Soren came first. She wouldn’t leave him. She couldn’t.

Her gaze shifted from the floor to her husband, her voice thick with the roil of emotions in her chest.

“The Seeker thought you were responsible because you were the only survivor. I told her she could shove that idea somewhere unmentionable. But you’re the only one. The only one who—“

Suddenly anger rose in her. She launched herself across the space between them, her fist landing a solid strike against his chest. Even in her fury, she held back the full force, a more sensible part of her brain unwilling to send him back into a catatonic state after she’d just gotten him back.

“You stupid—you fell out of the fucking Fade!” She was shouting at him, every few words punctuated with another blow “I thought I was going to find your body up there all charred and mangled like everyone else! Instead you just fall out of a rip in the Fade and spend three days almost dying! Do you have any idea how scared I was? I had to almost brawl with a Seeker not to have her throw you in a cell! You’re lucky you didn’t die because I’d have gone to the Void itself just to drag you back so I could kill you myself!”

At some stage the tears she’d been holding back slipped free, coursing down her cheeks. Her blow lost their force as her ranting reached its climax and instead she simply rested a closed fist over his heart. She turned away, head hung so her loose hair hid her face and the evidence of her emotions. She tried to breathe but it sounded like a choked sob.

“And you’re not even safe yet. You’re still dying because that fucking mark—“ Serra took another shuddering breath “Solas said it would only grow as the Breach does until…until…”

Oh, how he loved to tease Cornelia. He never gave much thought to why, it simply brought him immense pleasure to see her blush or grow flustered. At least, he hoped it was a blush and not annoyance.

Well... sometimes he knew he edged close to a line with Cornelia, and he never wanted to cross it. His teasing was always meant in good nature. A bit of fun. Perhaps flirting, if he ever stopped to realise what he was actually doing.

So it felt like a tease like no other as they shared kitchen clean-up duty. Perhaps the joke had been a bit much, but he had expected a light shove in response, or maybe a towel thrown over his face to silence him and hide his grin.

What he hadn't expected was for her to reach up, curl her fingers around the back of his head, and tug him down into a kiss.

Finn went blank for a moment -- mind completely empty, the world reduced to the press of her lips against his. Then, slowly, realisation crept in. He understood, with some kind of dawning clarity, just how completely oblivious he had been. And then came the next realisation: that he was kissing her back.

And Finn, being himself, apparently decided to fill the quiet with teasing. No amount of her pointedly ignoring him seemed to give him the idea that perhaps he should give up. If anything, it only seemed to encourage him and to push it further instead. She’d almost commend him for the persistence if it wasn’t designed to get a reaction out of her.

And, Maker help her, it was. She could feel a flush on her cheeks which she knew would only add fuel to the fire.

Eventually her patience snapped. She turned, ready to throw the rag she’d been wiping down the table with right in his stupid face just to get that smirk of his to vanish. That was what she had wanted to do. It was what she would have done but lately her thoughts when it came to Finn had become more jumbled. The flirtatious side to his teasing starting to feel less and less like a tease and more like it might just be flirting. Her retorts had definitely lost their edge as time had gone on, especially so after Weisshaupt. Then there was the fact they both were interested in the same man to complicate matters even further.

Well one way to get him to shut up was to make sure his mouth was otherwise engaged.

And for a moment, it worked. Cornelia felt him go absolutely still while he processed what she’d done. She almost smirked against his mouth. That maybe she could have found another solution besides kissing him was immaterial. So was the fact that when Finn’s brain seemed to kick back in again and he was kissing her back that she found herself enjoying it. A warmth she usually associated with Andefells clear spirits settling over her. If she pressed her tongue into his mouth, would he taste like rum?