#sataareth

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The Inquisitor was leaning against the ledge of the parapet, the night sky illumination the fortress beneath. The moons were full, and the stars were bright, and this high up in the mountain range, everything was so crystal clear. He could have counted the stars, if he had the time... Maybe it was a good idea that he didn’t have the time, otherwise his OCD would have him counting stars until dawn.

He didn’t rightfully notice the heavy thuds of the other qunari’s footsteps as he made his way up the stairs. Only when a shadow made itself present, was he started from his gazing, looking over his shoulder and leaning his elbows back off the stone.

Embarrassing Starters

Well that really wasn’t the way Kaaras wanted to make an entrance. He liked to hold his head high, and perhaps it was the fact that he’d spent a couple of years working with nobles that he’d picked up on a few habits that made him appear to hold himself with dignity. But Kaaras had always been a determined individual.

Unfortunately, he was no seer, and he had no way of predicting the sudden boot that made him stumble very awkwardly and not very gracefully. He managed to catch himself on whoever had tripped him, catching themselves against their very thick... chest.

Kaaras looked up and immediately removed his hands, collecting himself. “Maker’s breath.” He patted himself down and went a little red in the cheeks, embarrassed over his tumble--despite it having completely been the other man’s fault. 

You remember vaguely how much the wound in your arm stung, but that thought was clouded over real quick. You were practically rushed back in fear of infection after that nasty demon had bitten you, sunk it’s gnarly teeth right through the armor and into your skin. They even performed some odd magic in fear of you being taken over! That was a bit much in your opinion; one bite wouldn’t kill you

But being back in your room was more comforting, especially with Tabitha there to actually patch up the wound. Her calloused hands are small, yet gentle. Hands that have held many a weapon, and have spilled more blood than most. But you never were afraid of them. Not even when she held a knife to your back and dripped venom through her words whenever she was angered. 

Her hands worked around that thick arm of yours with her bandage, and after it was cut and tied, they settle still above the bite. You were tempted to say anything, but her look told you not to say something stupid, or even anything at all. So you lean down, and give her a gentle kiss on her cheek