Isabela sat upright in the tent, leaning a bit to one side so as not to touch the rain-wet canvas, and tried to dig the cork out of the bottle of rum she had in one hand with the tip of her dagger. She swore as a chunk of cork broke free and bounced off the canvas on the other side of the tent, the remainder of the cork moving not at all.

"Give me that before you stab one of us with that dagger," Fenris said sharply, frowning as he leaned over and reached to take the bottle from her hand. A brief pulse of his tattoos, and he was dropping the cork to the floor of the tent and passing the bottle back to her.

"Thank you," she said, and smiled warmly at him. "That trick never gets old."

Fenris snorted, then turned his back to her, curling up in his blanket.

"Sure you wouldn't like some of this?" Isabela asked, wiggling the bottle back and forth in his general direction as she leaned back against the rest she'd made at one end of her bedroll, using her and his backpacks.

"I prefer wine," he said.

"I may have wine as well. Not that fancy-pants Tevinter stuff you drink, but a nice fruit wine," she said. Not entirely truthfully, the only relationship between the bottle of applejack in her pack and wine being that they both started out as fermented fruit. "You'll like it, it's made from apples."

Another snort and then silence was Fenris' only answer. Isabela suppressed a sigh. Stuck in a small tent in the rain on the Wounded Coast and it had to be with Ser Broody-Pants, while Hawke claimed Anders' much more scintillating company. She smiled, remembering a use of his magic to which the term scintillating was particularly applicable. If only she could convince him to apply that particular magic to her once again, now that she'd recognized him as the charming young mage she'd met in Ferelden some years before. Sadly much of the charm was gone now, though at least he still talked a good game, even if he seemed to have misplaced his libido along with the charm. But at least he'd talk, and be entertaining company, even if nothing actually happened beyond a little teasing banter.

Fenris, on the other hand... she really did sigh now. He was at least easy on the eyes, even if he didn't like being openly admired any more than he liked ever being touched. And he had such pretty eyes... they'd been one of the first things she ever noticed about him. Not the very first of course; there'd been the arrogant walk, the white hair, the pale lines etched into light brown skin that flashed to blue-white brightness a moment later, the way he'd sunk his hand into that mercenary's chest and casually ripped out his heart... but then he'd turned back to Hawke, lowered black brows and bright green eyes showing for a moment behind the fall of white hair even as his shoulders rounded and back hunched, the earlier confident arrogance vanishing as if it hadn't existed. There'd been something in those lovely green eyes of his, just before he lowered his head... a look. An emotion... something. Something oddly familiar, though she couldn't have said what it was.

She'd been fascinated by him ever since, and by the complete transformation he went through between when he was in a battle and when he was in a more social situation. In battle he was like a force of nature; overwhelming, not just in his fighting skills but in the confidence he showed then, having no hesitation or doubts. In social settings – which he avoided like the plague itself – he tended to be silent, withdrawn, prickly, answering in monosyllables much of the time, carrying himself all hunched up and bent down as if trying to occupy the least space in the world that he could. Though when he did speak up – usually some form of confrontation with Anders – he'd straighten, that arrogant walk returning, his speech becoming very precise. A walk and manner of talking he'd learned from watching someone else, she guessed, or been schooled into; it didn't seem to fit easily with the rest of his personality.

Learning a little more of his history later had made sense of the dichotomy; a slave, and the bodyguard of a Tevinter magister, a bodyguard fearsome enough to cow other magisters merely with his presence at his master's back. Superbly trained as a fighter, of course, and as a bodyguard expected to show nothing but disdain for any magister but his own master when on duty, yet he had still a been slave and trained to otherwise be totally subservient.

There was a flash and a long, loud rumble. Fenris started, his marks flashing alight for a moment as he sat up, hands tightening convulsively on his sheets before he regained control of himself. Isabela froze, bottle raised to her lips, then lowered it. "Sure you wouldn't like that bottle?"

He gave her a brief glance over his shoulder, then started as another crack of lightning lit up the tent. "All right," he said hoarsely.

She dug out the bottle of applejack and passed it to him. He removed the cork and took a swig, shuddering and gasping afterwards. "This is not wine," he said. But kept the bottle, and took a second, more cautious drink from it.

"Don't like thunderstorms?" she asked, then slouched into a more comfortable position, watching him.

"No," he said, and shuddered at another flash, his lines briefly glowing blue again. A fascinating sight in the darkened tent.

"No, you do, or no, you don't?"

He remained silent, taking another drink of the applejack, then sighed and lay down again, hand still wrapped around the bottle. "It is not so much that I don't like thunderstorms as what all the flashing and noise remind me of," he said, voice soft enough that she could only just make it out over the drumming of the rain on the canvas overhead.

"Oh?"

Another long silence, before he finally spoke again. "You've seen what it's like when we fight mages; a lot of bright flashes, noise... you're familiar with gaatlock, too. Imagine a war where one side has gaatlock and the other has magisters, many of whom are blood mages. The sounds, the sights, the smells..."

"Oh," she said, much more softly, appalled by the scenes she imagined, and certain her imagination was likely not as bad as what he'd actually seen, had lived through, while his master was embroiled in the wars on Seheron.

They both fell silent for a while, drinking and listening to the storm passing overhead. Fenris still shivered or started occasionally, his markings glowing intermittently. The storm began to quiet, the lightning less frequent, the thunder more distant and muted, even the rain slacking off.

"I do sometimes wonder just how far down those markings of yours go," Isabela said, during one of the periods where they were shining softly. The glow immediately winked out again. She grinned at the offended look the elf gave her. "Come now, surely it wouldn't hurt for you to satisfy my curiosity just once?"

Fenris snorted. "Perhaps on some other subject."

"Colour of your underwear?"

"No."

"You're no fun. Hmmm... all right then. Something easy then. Favourite food?"

A long pause. "I don't know," Fenris said after a while.

"How can you not know?" Isabela asked, surprised.

"There are many foods I like. A few I dislike, as well. But none that I would call my favourite."

Isabela snorted. "All right then... favourite drink?"

"Wine. Red wine. Though this... whatever-it-is... is not bad."

"Applejack."

Fenris grunted, and took another sip.

"What else do you like?" Isabela asked.

Fenris suddenly smiled at Isabela, much to her surprise. A nice smile... a rather happy one. "I like you," he said, and then flushed and quickly took another sip from his bottle.

Isabela smiled warmly back at him. "Really? I never would have guessed, the way you act..."

He shrugged, looking embarrassed now, blush deepening. "Why do you think I let you get away with all the things you say me?"

Isabela frowned. "Huh. I suppose it's true you tend to cut off almost everyone else. Except Hawke."

Fenris shrugged again, somehow looking even more embarrassed. "Hawke is Hawke," he said, then looked down at his hands, nervously turning the bottle around and around before darting another glance her direction. "I like you," he repeated quietly. "You're so... free."

Isabela smiled, then set aside her bottle and moved closer to Fenris. He went very still. She hesitated, then leaned forward, brushing a brief kiss across his cheek. "I like you too," she said as quietly, and smiled.

Fenris looked away again, with an odd smile twisting his lips... embarrassed but please, she thought. She remained where she was, sitting beside him, and after a moment he set aside his bottle as well, then turned back to her, meeting her eyes this time, clearly nervous. Then, finally, he slowly leaned toward her, right hand rising to lightly touch her cheek as he neared. She could feel his fingertips trembling slightly, and smiled just before his lips brushed against hers.

It was a delicate, hesitant kiss. The kiss of a novice; of someone who wasn't really certain about how kisses were supposed to go. A sweet kiss; a first kiss. Isabela leaned a little into it, increasing their contact, and let the tip of her tongue slip out to flick lightly along his lips. Fenris twitched away for a moment, startled, then leaned forward and tried again. She lifted one of her own hands to rest lightly on the nape of his neck, keeping the pressure of it light but using it to delicately guide him into tilting his head to a better angle, then deepening the kiss.

Fenris gave a soft little sigh, his mouth opening under hers. She let her tongue take a swift, shallow taste of him, then withdrew it and opened hers in turn. He only hesitated briefly before his tongue slipped into her own mouth, moist tongues sliding briefly against each other before his withdrew again.

His eyes were opened wide, the pupils dark, his breathing a little short. She smiled, and moved to cup his head between both hands, her touch still light. His own hand moved from her cheek, fingertips ghosting along the curve of her lips before withdrawing. She tilted his head just a little, then pressed another kiss to his lips, pleased by the moaning sound he made, his hands coming to rest on either side of her waist.

Lightning cracked nearby, the thunder immediate and loud. Fenris yelped as he jumped in startlement, lines flaring brightly again, almost falling over from the violence of his movement. The look of embarrassment returned. "Sorry," he said hoarsely.

Isabela smiled warmly at him, and reached out to take one of his hands in hers. "Nothing to be sorry for," she said, then sighed, and smiled wistfully at him. "Though I think perhaps we'd better stop now."

Fenris looked disappointed, then started to hunch in on himself, turning his face away from her. "Sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"That's not it," she said, reaching out to touch his arm, waiting until he looked at her again. "If you're still interested when you're not full of applejack, I'd be pleased to continue. I just don't want to do anything right now that either of us regret later. All right?"

He bit his lower lip, looking thoughtful, then suddenly smiled again, looking pleased. "All right," he agreed, and abruptly leaned forward, brushing an kiss across her cheek. "Thank you."

She smiled, and stretched out again on her bedroll, retrieving her bottle of rum and taking a final swallow of it before knocking the remainder of the cork back into it. "You're welcome."

He curled up on his side on his own bedroll, facing toward her, the bottle of applejack cradled against his chest. "Good night," he said softly.

She smiled, and said the same, then closed her eyes, listening to a last few distant rumbles of thunder before she drifted off to sleep.