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“They’re gloves, Dalish make—” Kios notes with a smile at the Crow. She had listened, worried that the man thought she hadn’t given how quiet she was, but she was just worried that had she interrupted Zevran he wouldn’t open up ever again.

(she knows that most of their other companions still don’t trust him, but kios thinks he’s ever so charming... and he’d been truthful about his intentions, she can respect that.)

His expression is unreadable to her, and her brows knit in worry that she might’ve offended him, or misunderstood him bringing it up. She shifts on uneasy feet, hands clasping in front of herself to pick at the edge of skin on her thumb. Before she can open her mouth to apologize he flashes her a smile... and Kios smiles because seeing it makes her realize that every joke, smirk, and wink before was a mask to a degree. This.... this was a real smile.

He thanks her with a tenderness tucked into his voice as he grips the gloves closer to himself.

“Canonically” Kios doesn’t romance anyone during the blight, but she does absolutely ask the male party members what they think about Women (yes this includes Oghren please do not come into my replies w/ any comments).

Mostly because while she KNOWS that women are in relationships together, she doesn’t really know or understand romantic attraction period??? No one is ever direct with her about what it’s supposed to feel like if you’re interested in men or women!!!!!! It’s very frustrating for her!!!!!

Varric smiles at the fleeting press of lips to his temple, eyes never moving from his writing, pen scratching at the paper with focus as Andrea announces she’s going for a walk in the gardens in case her mother needs her. Be it far from him ever to tell a Hawke or an Amell what to do. “Andrea, wait a second—” he calls, and he lifts from the table a small cloth wrapped neatly around some bread, a hunk of cheese and some cured meat. Varric gives a smile as she trudges back over to take the small suggestion of a breakfast with her and she breezes out the door.

Finishing the document that Bran insisted was supposed to be done two days ago, the Viscount takes a long breath before rising from the table. If his timepiece was right (it was fast by at least 15 minutes), it was more than past time for him to wake Wayu.

Returning to their room, Varric pauses a moment at the door to see if she’ll rise on her own, smiling when she doesn’t. He moves quiet as ever, taking a seat on the edge of a bed for a long moment before taking one of her hands to squeeze twice, leaning down to kiss her shoulder with a wide grin as she finally peeks an eye open at him. He releases her, happy to allow her to roll to face him , curling herself around him with a tired grin that almost makes him feel bad for rousing her.

“Do you want coffee?” He ventures, raising a hand to carefully brush her hair back from her eyes, curling a few strands around his pointer finger as she resettled. He felt her fingers ghost up over the back of his hand before her fingers gripped his wrist with relaxed affection, and a small hum and nod. His heart fluttered, and he waited a beat longer as she pressed a kiss finally in reply to the soft of his wrist, releasing him so she could doze a little longer.

(forget everything he ever said about a tragic hero. this was a much better ending....)

A low hum leaves Alistair, already leaning back into the fingers that snuck their way into his hair. His eyes shut and he takes a long breath before he abandons the pen back into the inkwell before it can drip on the report he is writing and he relaxes all at once, leaning back into his love’s chest behind him.

(if the crickets are anything to go by, the sun is lower in the sky than he thought.)

He takes a few long deep breaths, laughing a little as Cian thumbs the sensitive shell of one of his ears before opening his eyes. “Hello, my love—” his voice is tender as ever, and he shuts his eyes as Cian’s other hand pushes back the overgrown locks of hair away from his forehead to lean down and press a kiss between his brows. Slowly in reply, Alistair guides one of the hand in his hair down so he can press a kiss against Cian’s knuckles, turning it over to press two more to his palm before pulling it around him securely and resting his love’s palm over his own heartbeat to ground it from running too far away from him.