It isn't like she wants to avoid him or anything. The truth is she just does not know what to do now.

The days that followed after the kiss had been busy – full of scheming, fighting and political debates. But now that they are back at the surface, she has become fidgety and altogether unsure about what her next actions would be.

"Are you feeling well, Filauria?" Leliana asks, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. At the corner of her eyes she sees Zevran glance at her with an unreadable expression.

"I'm fine," Filauria says, offering the bard an assuring smile. She turns to her companions. "Ready for the road?"

She hears Ogrhen sigh. "Give me a moment," he says, looking up at the sky. Filauria follows his gaze and finds that the familiar warmth of the sun comforting.

"Sure, take your time," the elven mage says, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

"By the Stone…" Ogrhen breathes out. "I feel like… I'm going to fall of the world with all that sky up there."

She glances at the dwarf who'd spent most of his life underground and feels a familiar twinge of being overwhelmed pull at her chest. She'd felt awestruck as well, the first time she'd set foot out of the Circle Tower.

"Is it that strange for you?" she asks.

Ogrhen turns to her with a dry laugh. "Strange?" he echoes. "Strange is your wife turning out to prefer ladies – not living in a world without a bleeding ceiling."

Filauria lets out a good-natured chuckle. "Well, I guess 'strange' isn't the word one would use."

"Well, let's get moving," Ogrhen says, adjusting the binds of his war axe. "We're losing… whatchacallit? Daylight."