Author's Note: Looking at Morrigan pics makes me drool. Just saying.
On a sidenote: Thank you, my loyal computer for deleting yet another half chapter before I could save it. Thank you. You are awesome. You are really making me hate this story. Thanks for that. ARGH.
Morrigan rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. Her body craved sleep and relaxation, quiet and peace. She rolled her eyes and massaged her forehead. 'Twas becoming increasingly difficult to fight off sleep, but the stupid boy was still clinging to her like a madwoman.
Normally she would not waste much time on taking a bath, but the Orlesian had made for an unexpected and somewhat unwanted distraction. Her inner clock told her that they had been here for a while now, and she could feel her spells wearing her down. Not only did she have to keep the water warm, the flame that was so diligently burning on top of her staff did drain a lot of energy, as well. 'Twas not surprising her eyelids were becoming heavier by the moment. Having the skinny boy clinging to her was not making things easier, however. Morrigan forced herself to stay calm and after imagining several painful deaths for the younger woman, she had regained at least some of her ususal composure.
She was not sure how she would get out of this situation without hurting the bard at least physically. The lithe body that clung to her was covered with water, but the witch's topside was exposed to the cold air mercilessly. She was starting to feel the cold, even though her magic had kept her from freezing so far. Slender arms had at one point locked behind her back and the witch did not know what to make of it. Bonding and helping friends in need was Kaala's prerogative. She wanted no part in it. But still, here she was, offering something akin to comfort to a woman she hardly knew, and frankly, did not care to know.
No matter the effect on her relationship with the boy, she would have to get out of the water and dry her hair, or else there might be an ice sculpture, after all. For once, she was at a loss for words. 'Twas not often that she considered her words before they came out of her mouth, but tonight, the bard had touched something inside of her that made her think before talking. She was not entirely sure whether that was a good thing, as yet. So far she had been able to keep her distance, as well in camp as in their travels. The frequent discussions the younger woman forced upon her were a nice distraction on missions, although she would never admit to that, but she had never cared whether she hurt the bard with her words or not.
"The cold is starting to bother me. I will have to get out of the water. I suggest you do the same." At first there was no reaction at all, but then she could feel eyelashes flutter against her abdomen. It was an odd sensation, one she had never felt before. A pleasant shudder ran through her body and settled between her legs, which made her gasp involuntarily. Blasted damnation! She took a few shallow breaths and tried concentrating on the matter at hand. Which proved hard enough without the light scraping of nails on her back.
"Off you go. I want to dry myself off now." She rolled her eyes and pushed the lithe body away from her. Gently. She did not want the young woman to make another scene, after all. When she turned to exit the stream, she could see the bard shaking heavily. Bloodshot eyes were darting around aimlessly and archer's hands were trembling while they tried covering a swollen face. She had to force herself not to act on her first instinct... To hit the woman. Hard. Instead, she grasped one of the trembling hands and pulled the rogue to her feet.
No word was spoken when the two of them stepped out of the water, and Morrigan was glad about it. Once out of the cold wet stream, the witch released the spell that had warmed the water and the sudden rush of mana returning to her sent a wave of heat through her whole body. She grabbed for her staff and diminished the flame to a small torchlike size, using the returning energy to dry off her moist body. A low sigh escaped her lips when she let her free hand glide over her arms and up to collarbone, exploring the shallow depths just beneath her throat. The light prickle sent shivers down her spine and for a few moments she actually enjoyed herself. But when a second sigh escaped her lips, she became keenly aware of the fact that she was not alone.
Withstanding the temptation to wheel around and cover herself, she cleared her throat and picked up her flimsy clothes instead. As she slipped into the all too cold fabric, she made sure not to turn her backside to the bard while bending over. Then she risked a glance over at the other woman and her heart almost stopped. Morrigan was not a sentimental person, nor was she one who would not exploit every weakness that she could find. But when she saw the drenched figure of the Orlesian sitting on the nearby log, linens carelessly thrown over a slender body, a part of her yearned for a closer look. And maybe a touch. The witch knew that this evening things had changed between the two of them, there was no point in denying it. She felt an uncommon attraction for the other woman, that much was certain. Lying to herself would not make it go away, so she might as well admit it. Her thoughts were only her own, after all. Nothing would come of it, she would make sure of that, but the memory of a naked bard would prove useful one day. Or night.
The older woman watched the rogue sitting in silence for a while, until she couldn't handle the vulnerability that was displayed to her anymore. When she walked over to stand in front of her, the wet thing didn't move a muscle. The witch had no experience with crying women whatsoever. Or people, for that matter. So she decided to do the only thing she was good at: Magic. She pulled the last of her mana out of the staff and grabbed for one of the still trembling hands, letting the energy flow into the other body. A surprised bard looked at her when she felt moist skin drying and wet hair fighting off the cold water.
"Morrigan... I..." Tears welled up in blue eyes and Morrigan couldn't help the frown that was forming on her face. Why did the bard have to ruin a perfectly good moment by talking and crying? Exasperated, she rolled her eyes several times, before she finally looked into the orbs that were desperately trying to lock onto hers.
"Yes." Making it easy for the young one was certainly not her intention. Surely the boy would leave her alone now that she was dry. Go to bed, most likely.
Red hair waved through the air when the rogue shook her head for no apparent reason. Morrigan successfully resisted the urge to comment on it. Fighting the scowl that was forming on her face was another thing, however. So she let it drop into place, eyes blazing. Quivering lips seemed at a loss for words and the witch decided she'd had enough of the crying woman for one night. She would make sure that this was not something the bard would talk about in the future. Neither to her nor to anyone else. The folly of this awkward evening would be forgotten once the sun came up again.
"I just wanted to..."
"Save your sentimental gratitude for someone else, because I care not." With that, Morrigan waved her staff in the general direction of the camp and let the flame burn again.
"Best you go now, or would you rather stay here in the dark?" Her words had the desired effect, she could clearly see tears in the corners of the bard's eyes, and although she felt a pang of guilt, she knew there was no other way to keep their relationship the way it was until today. Mocking the young woman was more to her liking than offering her emotional support. She would have to remind herself of that once a similar situation would arise.
Not waiting for the hurt woman to follow her, Morrigan strutted towards the camp, never looking behind. Once she was inside, though, she casually glanced for the other woman, making sure she had been able to keep up. When the whereabouts of the bard were confirmed, she went to her part of the camp, letting out an annoyed sigh on her way over there. She had planned for a bath in the quiet of the evening, instead she had found herself cornered by her least favourite member of the group... The witch shook her head. No need to go over this evening again. It had been made clear that such a thing would not occur again, surely the bard had unterstood that. She dropped the staff in the corner and slipped out of her clothes, sitting onto the cot in her underwear. Her hands rubbed her face, trying to get rid of the tension she was still feeling. But to no avail. Shaking her head unbelievingly, Morrgan slipped under her covers, knowing full well that sleep was still hours away, even though she was tired.
As she was drifting off, she became aware of the quiet. It seemed like the rest of the group had turned in, as well. Even Oghren could not be heard... He had probably passed out snoring somewhere... A soft noise made her open her eyes again, as if waiting for something. She stared into the darkness of the night for some time until she convinced herself that it had been an animal she had heard. Her eyes closed of their own accord and her body relaxed again. Until she heard a soft voice say her name.
TO BE CONTINUED.