"Fenris!" she yelled out the door of the hanged man. He'd stormed out of the Hanged Man after one too many of Isabela's jests and/or flirtatious comments. He paused for the briefest of seconds, she's coming after me? "Fenris please, I... Fenris..."
He thought he'd get tired of hearing his name, but he didn't and she kept on saying it while she jogged to catch up. Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder, he flinched at the touch and she pulled away, noticing his discomfort, "About what happened in there..."
"You could not have done anything, the pirate's mind is her own to control."
"Still..." She trailed off, my hands twitching nervously at my sides, itching for something to do. She looked down, the next thing she knew he was standing in front of her, a hand on my chin, forcing my gaze.
Then, because she just seemed to attract trouble, there came thugs. Stupid thugs. She shook her headd in disgust, and almost pity. "Get her!" they screamed.
She drew her bow and smirked, "Me? I'm flattered..." She released.
Fenris was up ahead keeping the thugs from getting too close. Swinging his greatsword, hacking off heads, and slicing people in half. Lovely. She had always preferred archery. It was cleaner...quieter...less bloody. She put away her bow, jogging up to Fenris. "You'd think they'd realize they were going to lose and run.." He nodded. She bent down, jerking an arrow free from the body and wiping it on her pant leg. He smirked, trying to imagineher as the "lady" she might have been. Hawke in a big, frilly ball gown, dressed head to toe in pink and cream. He imagined she'd be kicking and screaming, fighting tooth and nail to get the thing off. The poor maids.
"What?" she asked looking up at him. He noticed the slight upward curve of her mouth as she stood. She was teasing him. "You have blood on your face..."
She raised a a hand to him, expecting him to back away from her as if she was some monster. A hand had never been raised to him, except in anger. He was scarred physically and mentally. Now everyone was a threat. Everyone was guilty. No one did anything without expecting something in return. No one was innocent...
Surprising her just as much as himself, he stood. Frozen, not moving, not backing away. Stock-Still. He felt the warmth of her touch flowing into him. Her thumb gently wiping away the blood maring his handsome face. She stared into his large emerald eyes as her looked into her piercing blue ones. They stood out against her golden tan and raven black hair. He couldn't avert his eyes from her. Her hand lightly brushed against his chest as she lowered it from his face. Bowing her head, she awkwardly cleared her throat, "I..." he lifted her chin, "I, uh, Bethany... she'll be, I should go..."
He nodded, thought running through his head faster than he could process. He watched as shen disappeared behins a lowtown wall, making her wat to her... No, that was not home to her, it was a stop, a place to rest, before she would move one... and up.