Ben was seated on a medium sized bolder, tending to his bow. He'd checked and rechecked the string, re-waxing for posterity sake…Rubbed oil over the limb and grip.

…

There was a dead dragon behind him.

He looked over his shoulder to be certain.

Yeah.

It was still there

…That….that had actually happened….in real life.

So much of that fight had been a blur of 'Fucking fuck!'.

He still didn't remember who got the dragon's attention…or how, even. Crista's itchy knees had been right. He was pretty certain that the only reason they'd all survived unscathed was because the entirety of their party had been with them.

He looked over his shoulder again, this time assessing his teammates.

Crista had taken Míriel, Alistair, Leliana, Wynne, and Morrigan with her. In a line-up of Míriel, Alistair, Crista, Wynne, and Morrigan… one of these things was definitely not like the other.

Morrigan had grown close to both Míriel and Crista, in her way. Technically, he could argue that even he had found a way into Morrigan's (very) small circle of friends. He suspected that she had gone with the others more out of a sense of duty to protect the foolish women she considered her friends in spite of their ludicrous quest to find the ashes of a dead woman.

Either way, it was Alistair and the ladies… lucky dog. Ben was left to inspect the carcass for valuable parts with Sten, Zevran, Bral, the two dogs and Shale… The Non-Believers, he'd joked. It would've been a good joke if he wasn't suffering from a crisis of faith… or whatever it was. Was it really a crisis of faith or just complete disillusionment? Did it even matter?

He sighed, re-slinging his bow. Dwelling on it would not help. You could only get so far on this path... it was about as progressive as an Orlesian round-about.

He was distracted when a bird perched nearby. It was iridescent black…and its face made him think it was a raven, but it's feet and feathers weren't right.

"Look at you, beautiful and brave." He said in his lowest croon. The bird puffed up proudly. "You're special, aren't you?" Ben said. "You've the look of a Corvid…but your feet are zygodactyl, like an owl's and the feathers on your wings are shaped like a hawk's."

A quick scant glance revealed he was mostly alone. Zevran had refused to remain near the carcass, announcing his intention of 'guarding their rear' (Ben had announced that he wouldn't make the obvious joke) near the walkway from the caverns. Ben suspected he just wanted to move upwind..or out of the wind.

Shale was also positioned near the caverns, reasoning that they'd eventually tire of this nonsense—another reason he wasn't shooing the bird away. He didn't have to worry about the golem's bird-thing. Shale was...Shale was weird. It turned out that Honnleath wasn't as out of the way as they'd though (or they'd gotten very lost on the way to Haven, he wasn't sure). Either way, their newest traveling companion was... Well, he was a golem, wasn't he? There was no way he'd be normal. In any case, Sten and Bral were on the other side of the carcass. Sten had reverted to his own language, and Bral was watching Sten… it almost sounded like Sten was praying. The two dogs weren't bothered by the bird, and that sealed Ben's decision to allow its presence.

He was momentarily startled out of group inspection when the bird glided over to the bolder he was seated on.

"Fearless too, aren't you, Beautiful?" he smiled, absently reaching towards the bird. He didn't pet it. He just held out his arm as if to say, 'this is a part of me, don't be afraid of it'.

Strange purple-black smoke enveloped the bird, and Ben found himself jerking away as he stared up at an emerging Morrigan… until he finally couldn't correct his weight and balance and fell off the boulder in an undignified heap.

"Indeed I am." She gloated with a knowing grin.

"What…what sort of bird was that?" Ben felt a touch simple-minded, that being his first question.

"Twas many." Said with a crafty smile. "I find no point in gaining the status of master shapeshifter if I cannot assume the best traits of any creature." Morrigan tried to sound imperious as she waited for his reaction.

She'd enjoyed detailed discussions with Míriel, but she knew Ben might not be as open-minded. He was awfully close to Alistair and had obviously been raised Andrastian.

"You're a goddess." He finally said, utterly awestruck. He rose quickly, somehow managing to do it without appearing to scramble, and extended a hand to help her down. She considered hopping down on her own, free of his offered aid, but… she couldn't work up the ire. So, she took his hand and hopped down.

Morrigan's dilemma with compliments was that she usually felt as if it were all useless flattery or obvious observances.

Take the assassin as an example. He never flattered because of anything genuine…it was all part of his persona or in a ludicrous attempt to work his way into sexual pleasure.

Ben, on the other hand, was virtually guileless. Mostly because he was too straightforward or blunt...it didn't mean he didn't understand diplomacy where it was warranted, but in those situations he tended to remain silent and let others determine the mood. It was relatively bold considering the repressed company he kept. Certainly, he was occasionally sarcastic, but even when he attempted nihilism..it just wasn't a good fit. Morrigan assumed that something had happened to dampen his natural good humor, but that something was a non-fatal wound. Eventually he would recover, and the moody shifts between morose pessimism and biting ironic humor would pass.

He was still staring at her as though he truly believed her to be divine… but now they stood on equal footing.

"I decided to return upon meeting…" her teeth clenched. "The guardian." Her lips pursed in distaste, and Ben arched a curious eyebrow. "Apparently, I am too antagonistic.

He snorted out a soft laugh. "That's never stopped you before." He reminded with a grin.

"Hm. True. Evidently it was too grating on Crista's nerves."

"Ah." Ben's enlightenment was only partially realized.

Crista had been… not different exactly, but certainly not the same. Had it been the trip to Denerim? Maybe. But something had crawled under her skin. It wasn't overly noticeable really. She just seemed more tense. Still, she was obviously attempting to work through something.

"Míriel requested that I return. I suppose that means Crista's knees no longer itch."

"Hmm?" Ben murmured curiously. "I wonder if our fearless leader is Andrastian." He mused. "I've never asked."

"If it's to be measured out on a scale, I would say she is more Andrastian than Shale or Sten, but certainly less than Alistair."

"Not a bad call." Ben said with a tiny chuckle. "I noticed there was no question as to who I was referring to…"

Morrigan raised a critical eyebrow. "No doubt we both know exactly who leads our merry band." She regarded him expectantly.

"Míriel." They both said and the same time before smirking.

His eyes seemed to consider her bare shoulders. "Are you not cold?"

A tiny smirk tugged at the edge of Morrigan's mouth. She leaned just a touch closer to Ben—not an overly noticeable gesture. Just a simple nudge into his space.

"Do you intend to keep me warm?" she asked, staring up into his big brown eyes.

There was a moment of heat in those eyes, before he seemed to freeze entirely. She could practically see the wheels in his head as they turned, but their direction surprised her. The initial moment of lust sparked, followed by a stalwart slam of self-reproach. Oh, that should be something she explored in further detail when they had the time. She watched his very sizable jaw clench before he looked away, swallowing thickly. His hands rose…to the clasp on his cloak.

She held up a hand to halt his actions. The fool man intended to offer her his cloak to keep her warm when clearly he required it more than she. Sweet ridiculous clod.

"Tis quite unnecessary." She said, summoning a slight barrier before conjuring flames to lick at her fingers. "I am capable of making my own warmth."

She saw his shoulders relax just a touch as he stared at her hand. A tiny smile of delight made his expression almost child-like as he stared at the flames, transfixed.

"You're so amazing." It was spoken so softly, she had a feeling even the dogs had to strain in order to hear it.

It was then she recalled Ben's behavior around magic. Now that she was actually thinking about it, she couldn't remember a single time he had regarded any magic cast by the mages in their group without fascination. Whether it had been her, or Míriel, or the crone from the circle, their abilities had always provoked the same captivated, don't-move-you-may-miss-something gaze.

"Are you truly unafraid?" Morrigan asked before she could think better of it.

His eyes darted up tp hers. "Oh, I'm terrified." He said, his face slack. She blinked at him. "Wait… what are we talking about?"

She leveled a bored glare at him. "Magic."

"Ah.." He took a deep breath, taking that time to think over his answer. "Not… really." It almost sounded as though he were questioning himself. "I mean, magic as a concept doesn't seem to be the sort of thing to fear. It's like…" his eyes scanned the ruined countryside around them. "Well, I was going to say, 'It's like being afraid of air,' but that doesn't really fit. We all breathe air, but we don't all possess magic." He shrugged. "At least not that I'm aware of." He shook his head. "It's not as if I have extensive knowledge of such things."

Nigilings of suspicious began to gnaw at Morrigan's mind. It wasn't the first time she'd stopped to wonder exactly who the people she traveled with were… but Ben continued to lay bricks in the foundations of this enigma.

"Suffice to say, No." I don't inherently fear magic or mages. It's a ludicrous template to adhere to, because magic isn't inherently good or evil. It simply is. It's no different than a skill or tool, like my bow or daggers." He shrugged again.

"And this is your stance on all magic?"

"I don't see why not."

"Even that which the chantry does not permit?"

"The Grey Wardens don't necessarily operate within the confines of the chantry." Ben reminded. A very political answer in Morrigan's opinion. "Desperate times and all that. We let Míriel's blood mage friend go free, and I've scarcely even thought about it."

Morrigan's eyes widened. "What?"

Ben blinked before freezing. His eyes snapped to her's, tinted with the barest hint of panic. "Míriel didn't tell you." It was and wasn't an inquiry.

"When did this happen?"

Ben sighed. "Back at Redcliffe." He grumbled, a touch of misery tinting his tone. He explained how they'd found Jowan, what he had done, and their allowance of his release. Or, rather, their allowance of Míriel to make the call. He even told her of Alistair's aversion to Míriel's decision.

"Fool." Morrigan determined. "As though allowing that poor boy to languish away or be executed would serve any higher purpose."

"He and Míriel have patched their fences…" he muttered with little enthusiasm. "He isn't a bad guy, he just believes as he's been taught and doesn't entertain questions on the…" Ben raised his arms to physically bracket the next words in quotations. "'Truths' that he's been taught." He shook his head "That means every knee-jerk reaction is based in dogma instead of logic."

Morrigan eyed Ben. "Were you not raised in the chantry teachings as well?"

Ben smirked. "Of course. But I've never stopped asking questions, and I find the chantry's answers are either lacking substance or unfounded." He let out another deep sigh. "My mother would be so very disappointed."

"And your father would not?"

"Only if it ever came to a point of open vexation for my mother." The mood turned somber as a very heady sense of sorrow settled over Ben.

"How long has it been since you lost them?" she asked.

Ben closed his eyes and swallowed harshly. "Months. I'm not entirely certain anymore." He took a few measured breaths. "Shortly before my recruitment to the Wardens. It's harder to tell on the move like this." He looked around them, his face wrinkling in disdain. "We've managed to cover quite a bit of ground since then."

"Is that how you came to be with the Grey Wardens? Did you kill the responsible party?" He looked at her questioningly. "Many Grey Wardens are recruited as convicts… I assumed—"

"No." He said, a strange staleness in his tone. "I haven't killed my parents' murderer." Morrigan had come to associate Ben's eyes with a certain kind of warmth. They were dark brown, but rich in hue. They were not staid as mud or so dark that his pupil was indistinguishable from their color. It was odd to see cold iron determination take them. "Not yet at any rate."

Silence prevailed for long seconds as both of them found something else to look at. Ben felt a need to divert the rage of tumultuously chaos building in his chest. If it wasn't contained it would boil his brain.. And it was unworthy to loose such fury on no purpose. He hadn't been the sort to throw tantrums, especially after his mother beat it out of him. He wasn't going to start now.

Morrigan was experiencing a completely different struggle. Offhandedly, she'd observed that his open desire for stone cold violence did nothing to decrease Ben's appeal… which forced her to admit that Ben was appealing. Which simply would not do. Not until she was certain this attraction wouldn't ruin…anything.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything." Zevran murmured as he approached.

"Only companionable silence." Ben replied. "As it's a treasured rarity, I do hope this interruption is worth it."

Zevran chuckled. "Sten appears to be done praying to the beast…or over it… or …whatever he was doing." Zevran shook his head, still puzzled by the Qunari. "Also, I was wondering if we shouldn't give some thought to setting up camp. It's been a long fight to the top of this mountain. I don't know when our intrepid teammates will return, but I assume we won't be setting off immediately."

Ben nodded. "I've no desire to camp out in the open here, surrounded by rotting dragon and fragrant sulfur pits." He said. "Do you remember the caverns we came through? There was an area with live stock for the dragons… We could make use of them as supper before we leave." He murmured contemplatively.

"It would be better than letting them languish away… besides, those caverns were warm." Zevran nodded enthusiastically. Any chance to escape frigid Ferelden at it's finest.

"I believe I saw an area with naturally heated springs as well." Morrigan reminded.

"Oh, the girls will be delighted." Ben grinned. "They're going through Maker knows what for a bucket of ashes, after all." He motioned between himself and Zevran. "We can start on butchering the animals. I'll ask Sten and Bral to see if they can about finding some firewood. Morrigan, I'm putting you in charge of finding a decent place in the caverns to camp and getting a fire going. Preferably near those springs you saw, but if you find a better place, so be it."

"Oh, hurrah team." Zevran chuckled, making his way back towards the long road back into the caverns.

"Ah a moment?" Morrigan began before Ben could walk away. "What were you talking about before when I first asked if you were afraid. You said you were terrified."

"Oh. That. I was talking about you." She blinked at him and he grinned. "You've quite a hold on me, Morrigan."

Her smirk was positively feline. "Not yet. But the day is not yet over and the night is long."

He placed both hands over his heart as though he'd taken a wound. "Even if there is a Maker, I don't want to be saved."

She laughed openly at his antics even after he followed after Zevran.