"Did you hear? Anders escaped again last night! All the templars were- Neria are you listening to me?"
Fingers were snapping in front of her gaze, it took Neria a moment to bring focus to her glazed over look. She hummed, blinking slowly as a dreamy sigh slipped past her lips. Jowan scowled at the elf, now elbowing her in the ribs for her full attention.
"Ow! Hey!" she squeaked. Thin brows pulled together in her own scowl as she shoved her friend.
"Did you hear anything I said?" he demanded.
"Something about Anders?" she offered. "Were you going to finally profess your undying love?"
Her lips twitched, turning upward ever so slightly in a smirk. Jowan, on the other hand, huffed indignantly at her, less than amused at the jest. Truthfully she hadn't heard a word he'd said, but his recent obsession with the other mage would drive her to drink. It was easy to guess who he'd be talking about.
"This is serious, Neria!"
Her gaze had drifted away again from Jowan, eyes locking on the templar stationed at the door of the library. With the helm on she couldn't tell if he was paying attention to her, or was oblivious to the staring. Either way, Neria did not care. The idea alone that he might be watching her specifically made her whole body tingle.
Jowan cleared his throat, loudly. Neria's ears twitched as she trained a glare on him. "What?"
"Why do I even try?" he groused. "I'm going to find Solona."
She waved him off, eyes focused on the templar again as Jowan rushed out of the library in a huff. She'd had her eye on this particular templar for some time now. Ever since she'd accidentally bumped into him early one morning on her way to study with Wynne. He'd been so polite and so friendly. Not like most of the other templars. The rational part of her supposed it was because he was young by comparison. The irrational part of her didn't care one way or another.
Neria Surana was utterly infatuated and nothing anyone said or did seemed to change that. Or ease her daydreams. Which were getting worse. She'd nearly set Jowan on fire two days ago during one of their shared lessons. Her templar had walked in to relieve his comrade and it all went straight to the Void. Screaming, scolding, embarrassed laughter - the whole thing. Not that Neria regretted it. Or felt that bad. "Hair grows back, you know." She recalled telling Jowan when he'd fussed at her later over her poor apology.
Another wistful sigh escaped her lips as she propped her head in her right hand. Daydreams began once more as she idly traced her left hand up and down the worn page of the book on the table in front of her. All thoughts focused on her templar, stationed innocently and obliviously across the room. She imagined what it would feel like if the book was the cool metal of his cuirass, to trace the delicate outlines of the flaming sword emblazoned on the armor. Or, better even still, the warmth of his skin beneath. She shuddered at the thought, pressing her thighs together under the table as her fantasy progressed.
One day. The thought lingered in the back of her mind. One day, he will truly belong to me.