Yay I wrote a thing.
If anyone is curious, Salwyn was born mute, which is why he is signing. I headcanon that Solas, also known as Salwyn's Best Friend Ever, taught him. The others learned sometime too, I guess.
Warm, smooth hands press on his ankle and Salwyn hisses, jerking his foot.
Green eyes meet unrepentant grey eyes in an indignant glare. Salwyn pushes himself back a bit more against the boulder he is leaning on, to better raise his hands, and signs, "Do you really need to press so hard?"
"If someone hadn't insisted on traipsing about cliff edges, there would be no need for this, now would there?"
"It was a small cliff," Salwyn protests, "and I hardly was injured." He shifts his ankle to prove exactly how completely and utterly hardly hurt he is, only for the traitorous thing to throb.
Dorian looks unimpressed, doubly so when Salwyn fails to hold back a squeak of pain. And then he just raises that damn perfectly shaped eyebrow of his, really how does he maintain such eyebrows, it's unfair really and don't even start on that ridiculously styled mustache of his, honestly, look at it, it's so manicured and too perfect to actually be real, but it is, and it is possibly the best-
"Ah!"
It seems Dorian found the worst part of his injury, and, Mythal preserve him, Dorian has to be doing this on purpose, how long does it really take to probe an injured ankle, it isn't even broken, Salwyn would know if it were broken, thank you, and clearly Dorian has decided to teach him some kind of lesson, presumably one about cliffs, and
"Amatus, really, must you wriggle about?"
"It hurts!"
"Well, I should be rather astonished if it didn't!"
And yes, there's the Creation magic, little that Dorian knows, but clearly enough for this (ha! Salwyn told him it was barely anything), and Creator's above, but does Creation magic really have to be so painful?
Salwyn grits his teeth (is Dorian making this painful on purpose? Wait, no, that doesn't make sense) and tries his best not to move too much. His best must not be enough, because Dorian shoots him a Look and Salwyn forces himself to still his twitching leg. It's almost impossible really, and Salwyn is really starting to realize why Dorian is generally the last choice for healing. Talented as his vhenan is at the flashier aspects of the arcane arts, he is absolutely abysmal at healing.
Really though, so is Salwyn, so who is he to judge. At least it worked-
Wait. The weight of Dorian's hands is missing and Dorian is looking at him expectantly. Salwyn shifts his ankle. There is still a dull ache, but no where near as bad as the pain was before. It's enough for Salwyn to stand without crumpling like his ankle is made of paper. Which actually hadn't been too bad before, since he'd fallen right into Dorian's arms, and if that wasn't the very picture of one of those romance novels Salwyn liked to borrow from Cassandra, then he didn't know what was.
He grins up at Dorian. "Told you it was hardly injured."
That brings out a rather inelegant snort from Dorian, which he will probably deny to his dying breath. "You have very strange ideas of 'hardly injured', amatus. Why, I seem to recall you positively refusing to even so much as glance at your ankle earlier, so swollen and dis-"
Salwyn jolts and signs wildly, like that will somehow block out Dorian's words. "All right! I see your point!" He so does not need to picture that, seeing it was enough, thank you, without having to remember it-
Ahhh! He's picturing it!
Dorian is smirking, just so pleased with himself, isn't he, and Salwyn huffs. "You are terrible!"
"Next time you should entertain the brilliant notion to prance about cliff sides, amatus, you might remember this."
Salwyn snorts at this, because they all know it won't be long before he goes 'prancing about' again.
Although…
Dorian offers a hand and Salwyn takes it, grunting a little as his ankle protests a bit at the sudden weight on it. Still, he can stand, even if he is leaning a bit against Dorian, waiting for the ache to ebb a little. At any rate, it's much better than before.
"I'll be more careful next time," Salwyn signs, once he is able to stand on his own and free his hands. "I promise."
I won't worry you like that again, he adds to himself, because although he knows Dorian will just brush it off with a laugh, Salwyn had seen that flicker of worry in Dorian's eyes. It's hard, sometimes, to remember that there are others who worry for him, that Dorian worries for him, and that he can't just run into things without any regard for his safety, not anymore.
After all, he worries for Dorian too, doesn't he?