for all of thedas to see

Lace touched his face, felt his forehead. Clammy, but not feverish. Her worry drove her to pull him close, insensible to anything but those deep green eyes and the sound of his breath. He wrapped his gloved hand around hers and stared at her as if nothing else existed. “There’s—there’s no dizziness,” he rasped. “What?” Dawes’s hands shook as he brought his glove to his teeth, tugging it off and letting it fall to the ground. He reached for her, and impulsively she pulled away. Slowly, softly, he touched her cheek. The cavern around them was still and silent, and so was her blood. No cyan lines crawled down his hand. His eyes didn’t flutter with lethargy. His touch turned bolder, cupping her face, and then he was tearing his other glove off and pulling her close, wrapping her tight in an embrace as their lips met. She melted into him, tasting salt, choking back a sob. Since meeting Dawes, Lace had read a dozen kisses from a dozen of his favourite books. Soft or desperate, angry or heated. Not a single one—not one—compared to the kiss she shared with him in the hollowed out husk of that Titan. They were miles below the open sky, but in her heart, she soared.