#vilefate

he’s not the best at comfort; not naturally anyway. he thinks if he were, things would be a lot easier. but teren always fumbles over his words, unsure of the right thing to say or the right way to act. so instead of thinking too much about it, he reaches out to take gavin’s hand, giving a gentle squeeze, before mumbling, “we never are.”

instead, just as soft, just as airy, she lets her sadness carry across the dream that connects them from wherever he is, lets her promise to keep waiting lay on her tongue. “they’re yours when you’re ready to have them again.”

teren is easily worked up. doesn’t really think a lot of things through (its the whole reason his keeper sent him to assist the inquisition in the first place). but the thrill of things, or the boredom of others, has him on his toes, bouncing, reminiscent of a small child waiting eagerly for a gift. and most times, he acts before his action has even processed in his mind, so there’s really no way to prevent any consequences that may ripple out from whatever nonsense he’s gotten himself into this time. which is precisely the case now, where in a momentary lapse of concentration of the conversation, teren had giggled at something ash had said, and without thinking, had pressed a kiss to the inquisitor’s lips. it’s only sitting back that he blinks, realizes what he’s done, and goes to apologize. “oh. i just did that. i was thinking about doing it, but i didn’t mean to actually do it. i mean not that i didn’t want to, of course. i wanted to. i just didn’t... think i was going to. uh. sorry?”

but fenris says none of that, because if he did, hawke wouldn’t go, and maybe he really is needed. even if he’s not, he knows what it feels like to have decisions made for you, and he won’t be that person. instead, when hawke promises to send word once he’s no longer needed, when he asks fenris to promise to wait for that letter, all the elf can offer is a kiss.

she likes watching him work almost as much as she likes listening to him talk. there’s a focus in his dedication to rival the passion in which he describes his dreams of the fade. if she had no other obligations, ellie would be content to sit here for hours. but she doesn’t have that luxury -- today, or ever really. maybe she never will. and that’s the excuse she uses when she offers a soft, “hey,” to get his attention, taking the brief delay in his focus as he looks up to press a light kiss to his lips. “take a break.”

the witch hums, arms crossed delicately but lazily, the hint of a smirk turning her lips. she has felt very little towards anyone in her lifetime, but the elf -- morrigan finds she more than tolerates the other woman. could even say that she cared for the warden, which was a strange thought in itself. nevertheless, she dips her shoulder in what could be a shrug, could be acknowledgment, replying only with a nonchalant, “now that would certainly be a sight to behold.”

“I’m certain I have some. I just can’t think of any at the moment.”

“Would I like to? No, not particularly, but I’ve seen it more times than I care to admit. His libido runs hotter than my own, and if I can’t gather up enough interest, he’s content to try to arouse me by arousing himself. Occasionally, it even works.”