The day has not yet begun, but the camp has already begun to stir by the time Alistair peeks out of his tent. Leliana is head-and-shoulders into Bodahn's cart after breakfast supplies, while Zevran and Sten quietly oil steel and leather. And Elin –

Alistair gapes. Elin sits crossed legged on a hide as her fingers deftly work a needle and thread.

And she is bare as a newborn babe.

A lump forms in Alistair's throat. It's not that he hasn't seen her like that, scars and sinew broken only by the slight swell of her small breasts. He just hadn't expected to see her like that out in the open.

Maker help me.

"E-Elin?" His voice breaks and he clears his throat. "Elin."

She barely glances at him, but her lips twitch into a smile. "Alistair."

"I, uh, just…" Alistair coughs lightly. "Wondering what you're doing?"

Elin pulls thread through cloth. "Sewing."

Alistair waits for more of an explanation, but is met with silence. Of course. Elin rations her words as strictly as she rations their food. He sighs and creeps out to sit next to her.

The cool morning air has pricked Elin's skin with goose pimples and tinged it the slightest shade of blue. It's cold enough that Alistair shivers in his linen tunic and trousers, but Elin's hands never tremble.

"So." Alistair worries at his lip a moment before daring to continue. "What happened to your clothes?" It's easier than asking her why she's stark naked under the sky.

Elin shrugs and leans forward to examine a seam. "Drying." Her forehead wrinkles the dark lines that streak across her forehead. "Or here to mend." She pulls a small dagger from Maker knows where and picks a few stitches apart before resuming the smooth rhythm of pierce and pull.

"Something wrong with doing it in the tent?" Alistair realizes the words sound dirty a half-second too late and quietly curses himself.

A small huff escapes Elin's lips as she drops her sewing and sits back. The move thrusts her breasts out in a way that is both enticing and completely distracting. "No, why?"

Alistair drops his hands to his lap and silently pleads with his body to just… quiet down. Down, please, go down. "I just, well, you know, thought it was an odd place. Here that is. Strange place to sew." At Elin's puzzled frown he lets out a panicked laugh. "Ah, what I meant was," he swallows and drops his voice to a whisper. "Elin, you're naked."

Elin's green eyes blink a few moments before she gives him an uncertain smile. "Yes." She lets out a nervous chuckle. "You laughed. Is it funny?"

The question catches him off guard. Funny? "Not really? I mean, I'm sure someone would find it funny. Not that you aren't funny. That is, if being funny isn't offensive to Dalish. It's just that sometimes you say funny things." Alistair had a niggling suspicion that he should just shut his mouth and stop, but he blathered on, propelled by his innate talent to get himself in trouble. "Not that you mean to be funny. You're very, ah, capable. And strong. And an excellent fighter. I mean, if someone wanted a good laugh I definitely wouldn't send them to you. Oh Maker, why did I say that." Alistair clamped both hands over his mouth when he realized the last had been aloud. This is punishment for all those times I made fun of Sister Tabitha's bad teeth.

Elin presses cool fingertips to his forehead. "Are you well? You feel warm." The look of concern she wears is almost motherly.

The absurdity of it all suddenly strikes Alistair and he begins to giggle. Here she is, bare to the world without a care, and somehow he's the crazy one. The laughter bursts from his lips and it's not long before he's clutching sore sides and wiping tears from his eyes.

Thanks to vehlr for the beta!