I don't own Dragon Age, its characters, plots, or any of its other awesomeness. Bioware is amazing. That is all.
Lysias purred out a little sound, finding interest in the movement of his hands, the way his fingers played in silky white strands. The sleeping male before him seemed none the wiser, having already been semi-conscious when the other male entered through the window, and probably was used to people moving around his room through out the day, and had gotten used to it to the point where he wasn't easily woken. Lysias liked that idea. It gave him more of an opportunity to see his friend calm and a little more relaxed, though he did realize that there was a chance that his dreams were plagued – Fenris's life was as hard, if not harder than Lysias's, and the latter male had nightmares all the time.
Fenris stirred under Lysias's fingers, inhaling deeply before he relaxed again against his not so soft duvet. He probably knew that Lysias was there at that point; Lysias figured that he was too tired to wake up and offer a greeting. It didn't matter, Lysias didn't come up to talk, he just wanted company. Alosio was livid – the Orlesian elf accidentally spilled a tray of food earlier that day, and had been locked inside his room before he snuck out. He was denied food as well, unless he wanted to eat the food that he had spilled off of the floor. Lysias could live without a meal, he had done so before.
Absently, the smaller elf tugged at the sleeping male's hair lightly, making the other stir again, his eyes opening in little slits that focused on the green eyes of his friend, then he looked down to his pillow. For a moment, Lysias feared that he had bothered him, and that his presence wasn't appreciated; he quickly retracted his fingers from the mess of white and shyly folded his hands together, averting his eyes and pretending to find interest in the tawny color of the walls.
"It's late . . ." Was the sleepy response to the small elf's presence.
"It is. You should go back to sleep." Lysias muttered in his accented voice, trying to take the attention away from himself, but he knew that it rarely worked – but this time, Fenris didn't seem that he wanted to pry any.
Fenris snorted, but closed his eyes again, a little etch of a smile on his lips, but it diminished before Lysias could catch it. The smaller elf reached over again, petting his fingers over the other male's hair again, humming lightly under his breath – a song that the Keeper in his old clan had sang to the younger elves, to fight off nightmares of the Dread Wolf.
Author's Note:
I kind of wanted to write a little about Lysias and Fenris's friendship from when they were in Tevinter.
And this was born.
It is purposely very short.
:]