It wasn't the first time that she found herself distracted by an action of Zevran, and as the feeling of familiarity seemed to spread on her, she truly doubted that it would the last. Laeti cringed, white hot pain moving like electricity from her back as she turned her body slightly, clentching her teeth together at how her movement to end such pain seemed to make it worse. Oh, she just HAD to get injured on her BACK, of all places! She thought bitterly, exhausperated with the linger pain.

"Hold still." Wynne sighed, her voice aged with experience and knowledge brought very little comfort to the elf sitting before her, red hair momentarily brushed away from her injured back. Laeti groaned softly, turning her attention back towards the front of the tent that surrounded her and the elder mage.

"Didn't you say that this would last only a week at the most?" Laeti accused grumpily, turning her head slightly to the mage at her back. It seemed like it had been more then a week since she had returned to camp on Alistair's back. "I did, but that was assuming you'd listen to my advice." Wynne retorted, fingers probbing the healing wound lightly.

Laeti, being a Dalish was not one to display weakness for others to see, instead she simply clentched jaw tighter, her hands settling on her knees below her to dig into flesh with her uneven nails. Still, her voice grew strained and thin, even as she tried at humor, "I DID take your advice." Laeti pressed, occupieing her mind with the fabric of the tent wall before her, her face contorted into a pained grimace.

"Oh, of course you did. I asked that you rest for the week, you rested a total of two days, and even then, it was because the assassin was all but holding you down-" Laeti flushed, "He was not doing anything of the sort! Besides, it was healed up well enough. Stopped bleeding and everything." Wynne gave the red headed elf a look of annoyance. "You tore your stitches. Twice. And you have been ever since. This would have been a week recovery, but because you intend to spent the time you are supposed to REST in fighting, overloading your pack, and sleeping on your injury, it has gotten worse." Wynne pulled her pack over to herself, opening the top to find the bandages within.

"I sleep on my back. It's what I do." Laeti stated stubbornly, closing her eyes in anticipation for the bandages. Her back was tender, and needless to say, it was going to sting, it so usually did when Wynne rebandaged her back. But, she didn't trust the act to anyone else, when exposed, the injuries on her back left little room for her armor, leaving her wearing simple and long cloth around her chest.

It didn't show anything, naturally, but still..

Zevran was going mad with restless fury, pacing absentmindedly by the camp, ears perking at the slightest hint of pain in Laeti's voice. She wasn't the type to call out, but that tone she had cut through him as if she had. Oh, he couldn't stand the worry that flooded through him at her one word. Why did his world seem to stop for her? How could he, Zevran Arainai, be so affected as to be unable to think upon her mere pained tone? Zevran sighed, noticing that his unrest was leading him to pace the camp.

What was that Dalish doing to him?

Though, he'd suspected that the fact Laeti forwent most of her recovery (he was lucky to be able to get her to stay two days in bed) was at fault for her longer recovery time, he still found it rather interesting that her strange night habits were leading to the same outcome.

Perhaps he could offer his help, if he could just get his mind under control.

It seemed like ages, ages with the elf throwing blades at a nearby tree, forcing his restlessness through his actions, before Laeti stepped out of her tent, bandages freshly white, and dressed in her loose green cloak hanging around her frame. Her skin was paler, something he took careful notice towards, before walking over to her, a grin on his lips and a witty line upon his tongue.

Clearly, he was lusting for this little dalish because she seemed to be the only one in the entire camp that wouldn't have him. Wouldn't even indulge his well woven words.

"Zevran, can we speak about something?" Laeti asked, standing stiff before him and moving her back minimally. Maker, she was beautiful, Zevran allowed his eyes to slip over her smaller frame appreciatively before meeting her gaze, watching those pale cheeks of hers flush such a lovely shade of red.

Five more points for that hue, naturally.

"That did not work out so well the last time, yes?" Zevran grinned, recalling the time in which she had asked him a question, or rather, had tried, but after a few looks from himself, she had found herself so flustered that she fell backwards and into Alistair's tent as he slept. Returning the favor back to Zevran when she emerged, though alternatively, she had pushed the man into Oghren's tent instead of an ex Templar's.

Zevran repressed a shudder as he drew his attention back towards the elf just a bit shorter then him with a fond smile.

"Mm, well, maybe not THAT time.." Laeti shifted her stance slightly, cringing as the bandages stroked her sore wounds on her back. "That kiss, the one for the hiccups.." She started, features searching his for something that he wasn't sure existed. Zevran's entire body froze. What did she want from him? To claim that it meant nothing to him, that he wasn't recalling the pressure of her lips against his fondly? Thus she wasn't bound to explain that it meant absolutly nothing to herself to him? Perhaps, she desired it to mean something, to claim him as hers and only hers. Ugh.. Committment.. Even for those pretty blue eyes, he just wouldn't. The madness that was in his mind stirred wildly, and he quite saw no way to get out of the situation unharmed, as it were.

Zevran couldn't do it.

"Did you truly have to specify which kiss, my dear warden?" Zevran rolled his eyes, his hands clentching into fists at his sides. What did she expect from him? What did she want from him? It was simply, far to much. Denying it all, that was so much easier. So much more familiar to distance himself from her, to have her name fade to the countless he had forgotten.

"As for what it meant, as I'm sure you mean to ask, it was merely a cure for hiccups. Nothing more."

These surfacers had some STRANGE mating rituals, Oghren speculated drunkly, stumbling slightly outside of his own tent, a flask in hand as he watched the pair. They were so busy dancing around one another that they were tripping over their own sodding feet! Glancing to the sloshing flask in his hand, a wide grin spread on his features as a throaty chuckle escaped his lips.

They needed to loosen up a bit, it'd be a mercy to themselves and everyone else in the group. Already Oghren was working out a plan, involving the mabari, health potions, and some ale (Not his own brew, naturally, that was to good for such an occasion)

In the latest hour they could manage, as Zevran left camp to keep watch, Bumu snuck around the camp, eagerly poking his large head into the tents to drag out the leather packs of the group. Each in turn was sorted through for health potions, which, when discovered, were filled with a slight amount of alcohol. Just enough to loosen a few belts, he thought to himself, swatting at the mabari as once again Bumu dragged a half eaten hare into one of the packs.

How the hell was he supposed to know that the group would battle a high dragon the next day?

Rain was the first noise Laeti awoke even slightly to, the patter of the droplets against the fabric of the tent in a gentle cascade enveloped the ever so slightly stirring elf. From the sound of it, she supposed groggily, it was raining rather hard outside the small tent, the downpour rousing her consciousness insistently. The air had a certain chill to it, biting at any piece of exposed skin available to itself.

Strangely enough, though she felt the cold pebble on her skin, Laeti felt warmed to her toes, accompanied by a feeling of hotness just beneath the skin. She felt contented, pleased, and safe for once in the morning. Absolutely nothing like the fear that so wrapped itself around her heart usually when she woke. Nightmares so often waking her many times in the night until she simply gave up on the prospect of sleep and rose, often well before the sun.

With a deep breath Laeti shifted her body slightly as she welcomed the awake world before her. Stretching out her arm that lay over top of something warm, Laeti froze, an electrical sensation running through her entire body, a weight around her waist tightened slightly at her movements, fingers ghosting over her hip protectively. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes flying open.

Even in the dim morning light, accompanied by loud claps of thunder and flashes of blinding light, she could recognize the features of the man she looked up towards, though she failed to register a name for a long moment, taking in her bearings dizzingly. Laeti lay upon her side, a body larger then her own pressed against hers. Her head was upon his shoulder, with an arm outstretched across the top of his chest, a muscular, well toned thing. Her other arm was beneath her body completely numb and undoubtedly crushed under her weight, she no doubt would be dealing with pins and needles immediately after she lifted the weight.

The man she couldn't seem to put a name on, was a handsome one, with a muscular build and taller frame then herself, though not so large as to be a qunari and fine features on his face. Elven ears could be seen through braided back blonde hair, with a bold yet elegant tattoo stretching across his features on the left side.

Zevran.

Zevran could not, for the life of him recall the night before, or rather, anything from the day before, and it seemed that it would truly be worth recalling, seeing as the little Dalish was quite literally in his arms beside him. She was such a light little thing for something so strong, weighing so little on the shoulder she had her head upon on that he hardly noticed her weight in the slightest.

For the past hour he had been finding collective reasons to not rise and make it apparent that he was awake, but, as the hour passed, they started to seem more like excuses. Oh, how it was JUST his luck that he couldn't recall the one night he spent with the one woman in camp that didn't desire him in the slightest. Though, he supposed as he felt her stir and shift beside him, if his drunken self had managed the feat, he could certainly replicate it!

Oh, he couldn't seem to stay away from that damn little dalish!

He felt the woman wake up, shifting to look up at the situation. She seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he had, though her reaction seemed far different. The skin under his fingers grew tense, and she gasped, clearly upset and distressed as she sat up, pulling back from him, her arm slipping off of his chest and her body out of reach.

"Before you actually kill me this time, you should know we're both fully dressed. So you're mistaken if you think anything occurred." Zevran purred, opening his eyes, already missing sensation of that soft skin beside him. It had been the first thought to himself as well, specifically because he had felt her arm across the bare skin of his chest. Laeti, alternatively, had felt his skin on her hip, coming to the exact same conclusion, though a moment later.

He didn't sleep in a shirt if he could help it, settling instead for a bare chest and comfortable pants. Laeti, alternatively, wore the very same long piece of cloth across her chest, leaving her injured back untouched (much to her embarresment), loose pants around her waist. Laeti breathed a sigh of relief, ears expressively dropping and features calming, much to Zevran's offense.

Was the idea really THAT bad to her?

Laeti could finally breath! Oh, she thought with a rush of relief, that was nearly unforgivable! For the Dalish, sex was called bonding, and it was only for those one intended to spend the rest of their lives with. Laeti couldn't help but be relieved. The very idea of bonding with a man who had attempted to kill her, and gone out of his way to lead her on, only to mock her about it later, and NOT remember such an act was something she knew would never be forgiven on her part.

In truth, she hadn't even kissed a man before his cure to her hiccups.

And to know that it meant nothing to him, made her feel cheapened, poisoned at his touch.

Yet, here he was making her heart stop at his look her way.

Dried blood were in cresent forms on his chest, the reason he'd woken up. Apparently, the reason the mysterious dalish warden woke well before him was due to present, and as it would seem, violent nightmares. Zevran noted to speak to Alistair about them, perhaps it was a grey warden attribute.

"I knew you couldn't resist me." Zevran smirked, satisfied that in her sleep she had searched for HIS comfort. And, ego inflatingly, it had worked, when he'd woken, all he'd had to do was whisper some comforting nothings to her, lay his hand upon his back, and she relaxed beneath his palm.

"It's a small tent.." Laeti managed, flushed to the ears and ducking out of the tent, throwing a "We never speak of this again" over her shoulder, tripping on the hem of the tent for a moment on the way out.

Zevran smirked, locking his fingers behind his head with a smirk, watching her go.

Now, how did he manage it again..?