"-and then I jumped in! You should have seen the expression on the Templars' faces, ah! Priceless!" Anders concluded, laughing really hard as he retold one of his many escape tentative. His tankard swayed with the rumble of his laughter, the contents sloshing a bit over the edge and on to the table.
Telin joined him in his merriment, smiling and taking a pull of her own drink.
The Hanged Man was quieter than its usual, though it was still packed almost to capacity. It seemed the night was going to be a calm one, with several patrons drinking by themselves or in small groups, giving no indication whatsoever to any degree of rowdiness. But, the night was still young, and Hawke was still absent.
Telin and Anders had agreed to meet to celebrate a job well done; the mage had managed to convince the Underground to momentarily pull out of the Circle, and she had succeeded in her endeavour to persuade Cullen that there was no threat of Blood Magic, at least for the moment.
"I can imagine," she snorted, settling the tankard back on the rickety table "though I would have loved to be there to witness it" she added, giggling. She had a slight idea of what they would have looked like, remembering a very specific shocked yet indignant look on her English teacher's face that one time.
"Well, isn't this a lovely picture!" Sinead's voice rang from the entrance of the place, turning several heads in the process. Telin and Anders were amongst those, and they both smiled sheepishly as the other mage approached their table, followed by a bored-looking Carver.
"Hey Hawke, care to join? We're just celebrating a job well done" the girl offered, motioning to the still empty chairs next to her. The elder Hawke arched an eyebrow with some curiosity as she took her place on her side, while Carver didn't even bother to spare a word as he sat in the one further from his sister.
"I didn't know you two were working together" she said, waving a hand at Norah as she passed by to place a new order.
"Not in the strict sense; our interests seemed to have crossed, so we had to work together to resolve the situation" Telin explained vaguely, aware that it wouldn't be a wise choice to so publicly blabber about the Underground.
"Telin here is really good at what she does, she played one under the nose of the Knight-Captain!" Anders cheered, raising his flagon again to bump it against Telin's. She grimaced a bit at his enthusiasm, not really proud of her deceiving. She would have preferred a solution that was truthful to all parties, but unfortunately she was aware of the impossibility. At this point in time, Cullen would probably have disregarded her words and acted on his Commander's words, causing more harm than the Underground was worth. Telin was conflicted about lying to Cullen at all, but she hoped she could steer the Templar towards a more gentle end of his faith in the Order...
"Weren't you working for the Knight-Captain?" Hawke asked, and she shrugged.
"Technically, yes. What's important is that the job is concluded and all parties are satisfied" or that was what Melchor had told her, at least. She had gone to him the day after her meeting with Anders, to consult with him and bring him up to date with the information. He was on board with her plan, even praising her for her good thinking, and didn't reprimand her for acting of her own accord without going through him before. The job was hers, he said, and as such she had all the freedom to come up with her own solutions.
"Until the next one shows up" Carver helpfully supplied from his sulking corner, taking a good swing at the drink Norah had served.
"Well, someone's cheerful today" Telin commented, throwing a glare towards the younger Hawke. "Though I'm inclined to agree with you, sadly. The Circles will never be without problems-"
"Until there are Templars" Anders butted in, cutting her off midsentence.
"No Anders, until the Chantry takes its head out of its own ass. Templars are just an instrument of their will, the armed hand to the mind of profiteers. They proclaim fear in the name of the Maker, but no God worthy of such name would ever discriminate against its followers. Templars are just the result of a thorough indoctrination, and they are leashed to the Chantry like the Mages are leashed to the Circles. Tell a child that magic is bad often enough, and they'll grow up believing it true. And since there are no mages outside the Circles to demonstrate that magic is not inherently evil, they will keep believing that mages are secluded because they deserve it. So you see, it's not as simple as getting rid of the Templars."
"And here I though Tevinters did not care about the southern Chantry" another voice jumped in the conversation cheerfully. Varric strolled over to their table with a mischievous smile on his lips, and Telin found herself sagging a bit into her chair. She should have known that sooner or later someone would catch wind of her supposed background.
"You're pale for a Tevinter" Hawke snorted, curious more than anything at the newly acquired information.
She sighed, debating with herself for a moment on whether to tell the truth or keep her cover story up.
"Well, and you're dark for a Fereldan" she finally settled on, shrugging.
"Ah - of course. Should have known" Varric commented, taking up the only other seat left. "It's never that simple with you 'Wallers, is it" he added, mirroring the exact same gesture Hawke had made to call for the waitress to bring him his usual.
"Yeah well, I fear the truth is far more complicated than it's worth to share" Telin tried to downplay her hand nonchalantly.
"More complicated than coming up to us and saying: 'You don't know me but I know how you'll die' ?" Carver piped up, looking at her with unconcealed skepticism over the ale he was nursing.
"Junior has a point, Riddle" Varric readily agreed, always eager to have as much of the story as he could.
"Maybe I'll share it, someday. For today, let us just drink, aye?" she deflected, raising her own tankard to initiate a toast. "To surviving another day and getting awfully well-paid!" she cheered, grinning cheekily when the others joined her with a laugh.
The night eventually picked up from there, and the group soon moved to Varric's room to accommodate the newcomers. Bela and Merrill joined them some time later after their toast, followed by Aveline, who brought with her a as per usual brooding Fenris. Together they played a couple rounds of Wicked Grace, bickered over all kinds of matters, and made plans for the day ahead. It seemed that Hawke had accepted to help a mother look for her son, a young elven boy who had escaped in order to avoid being sent to the Circle upon discovering his magic. Sinead and Carver had already talked with the boy's father, and would pursue the trail the following day. Telin graciously declined the invitation extended to her, claiming that she would need some time to settle some loose ends now that her job had been completed.
They rendezvoused back at the Hanged man the night after, and by the looks on their faces, Telin immediately could guess the outcome of their little expedition.
Feynriel had been rescued without much fuss on either part, but then Hawke had refused to send him to the Circle, fearing for what might happen to him under the hands of the Templars. Instead, she had directed the boy to where the Dalish were camped and had sent him on his way. By the looks of it, it wasn't hard to know how the group's opinions were divided; Fenris obviously disagreed, while Anders seemed pleased with the freedom of another mage. Telin avoided taking any parts, knowing that whatever the case, the boy wouldn't be safe forever.
"It's pointless arguing about it. Feynriel is safe, and that's all that matters. I'm sure Keeper Marethari will take good care of him" Sinead said in the end, putting a stop to the circular, and seemingly endless discussion before it could escalate in something worse than bickering.
"Agreed. Though I have another probably controversial topic to share" Varric piped in, promptly extracting a piece of rolled parchment from the front pocket of his shirt. "I've got wind of a Chantry Sister looking for help to smuggle something out of the city, thought it was right up our alley" he informed the group, handing the letter to Hawke. The mage studied the lines for a second, then passed it along to Telin with a grimace.
"Does that tell you anything? I would avoid getting involved with the Chantry, if I can help it" Sinead told her earnestly, and she really couldn't disagree with her.
Telin read the missive quickly, but it was pretty vague, only gossip. No name, no indication of anything that could trigger a memory.
"Sorry, no idea. Could be legitimate though. How much is she offering for the help? If the price is worth it..." She trailed off, shuffling the piece of paper down the line for the others.
"Around ten sovereigns?" Varric threw there, pleased with himself when he noticed Hawke's eyes bulge.
"That's just how much we need for the expedition" she replied, sighing in defeat. "Ok. Where can we find this overly rich and highly suspicious Chantry Sister?"
"Lowtown, where else."
Telin joined Hawke, Merrill, Isabela, and Carver to where Varric had said the Sister was waiting for them. It turned out she was hiding right opposite to where the Hawkes lived, but no one besides Merrill seemed surprised of it. Kirkwall was one big smuggling hole from the time of the Imperium, after all.
They knocked on the door twice in a row, and waited. The minutes ticked by, but no one came to open. When they finally decided it was best to leave it, the decrepit wooden slab that worked as a door inched open.
"Are you Hawke?" A familiar yet never before heard voice asked. There wasn't enough space to clearly make out who was on the other side, but Sinead still nodded.
"Come in then, all of you" the voice hurried them, cracking the door completely open. They quickly piled in the small front room, freezing when they spotted a Templar standing in a corner.
"If this is an ambush, Sister, you've chosen the wrong crowd" Hawke commented coarsely, hands already burning bright, ready to cast at a moment's notice.
"Still yourself mage, he is not here for you" the Chantry Sister brushed her off, her voice betraying her sympathies very clearly, as she rounded on them after barring the door. When she came into view under the light of the burning candles, Telin felt her blood heath up.
"I'm -"
"Sister Petrice" Telin seethed, finishing the sentence instead. The Chantry Sister glared at her with the intensity of a thousand suns, and she felt herself return the sentiment.
"I thought you didn't know who she was" Hawke said, her defensive stance back in place at Telin's sudden change of demeanor.
"I do know now. It is no goods that she wishes to smuggle outside the city" Telin went on accusingly.
"If not goods, what do you want out of Kirkwall so fervently?" Sinead demanded.
Sister Petrice kept her abrasive glare on Telin for a few more moments before nodding to the Templar. The man disappeared in the back room, the rattling of his own armor soon followed by the one of chains. Telin knew what to expect, but felt dread crawl down her spine nonetheless; she was used by the sight and nearness of qunari by now, but she had never seen a Sarebaas in person. More than his size, what chilled her blood was his appearance: his horns were cut to the base, his eyes were covered, his mouth was stitched close and both his wrists and neck were bound and chained. She wouldn't disagree that mages were dangerous, it was a fact, but to treat them as things? Her stomach coiled, and by the look of it, Hawke's did the same. Her group was rightly wary of the imposing presence of the qunari, having met Tal-Vashot and the likes, but even more so for the implications of what his presence entailed.
"This is my burden of charity," the Sister began, casting a pitiful glance towards the bound mage that made Telin snarl "would even a Templar bind a mage like this?" she asked, probably rhetorically.
She had to cover her indignation with a scoff to avoid replying; given free reign, Meredith would have probably done the same if not worse to each and every one of her charges.
"This is Ketojan, he was the only one of his unit to survive an encounter with the Tal-Vashot outcasts" Petrice continued undeterred, seemingly unperturbed by Telin's scowl. "What I ask of you, is to escort him outside the city and to freedom; I will not see him returned to his brutal kin to face death. It is not what he deserves. I know that the Viscount is convinced that peace begins with appeasement, but mages have suffered enough, don't you agree?" the Sister finished, clearly satisfied with her little act.
Telin threw a meaningful glance Hawke's way, but she could see that the woman's words had had the desired effect on the mage. She sighed; could she, in all honesty, have expected anything less? There were not many mages who would leave another of their kin to suffer.
But Telin was determined not to fall in the trap, even if it meant antagonizing Sinead.
"No," she announced sternly, taking a step forward, "the only thing you want is to cause a diplomatic accident to satisfy your sick xenophobic views. This mage is free to go on his way if he wishes, but we will not aid you. And that's final" Telin stressed her refusal, pointedly looking at Hawke.
In return, the mage looked back with outrage in her eyes.
"Are you suggesting we leave him to his fate? Are you that cruel?" she cried out in anger, something of the picture she had made up in her head about Telin breaking slightly.
"I'm pragmatic, it's different. This is clearly a set up, can't you see it?" she replied with the same amount of heat.
"I don't care if this is a trap or a set up, I'll do it. If you don't want to help, feel free to leave" Sinead finally put her foot down, overruling the decision that Telin had no authority whatsoever to make.
"Maker bless you, Serrah, you are truly a kind soul" the Sister exclaimed, clearly enthusiast to have found the fool to execute her plan.
Hawke nodded.
"We'll be leaving now, then."
Telin didn't remember much of what happened after she decided to remain with Hawke and help her. It was all very much a flurry of memories, up until the point she found herself with a spear through her leg. The same could be said of the journey from the coast back to the city; she was somewhat aware that Carver was carrying her on his broad shoulders, and that Hawke had set a quick pace for the group, but everything else was pretty hazy.
Merrill had made a pretty crude job at stopping the blood flow with her magic, but the solution was more than just temporary, as she was anything but a healer. The wound needed to be reopened and then sealed properly in order to heal correctly and without the risk of infections. Which, to Sinead, meant going straight to Anders' clinic; Telin vaguely recalled steering her towards the Guild, instead, knowing that Melchor could heal her just as easily. It wasn't a skill he made a point of advertising much, but she knew he could do it – had done it on several occasions actually, when she had injured herself during her training with Athras. He would certainly put her back on her feet – quite literally. The blade of the spear had gone through her tight, missing her femoral artery by mare inches, leaving behind a gruesome – yet clean cut. Despite the simplicity of the wound, it hurt like a bitch, the pain strong enough to numb the edges of her consciousness; which was probably for the best, really.
And so, she barely noticed Hawke barge in through the front doors of the Guild, shouting for help, equally missing the voice – that sounded suspiciously like Moran's – that came back in reply.
Telin did not realize when the two siblings were granted access to the inner parts of the Mansion under the haste of the situation, nor she picked up on the confused looks she received when Moran addressed Melchor as 'The Boss'.
What she did take notice of, though, was the string of curses that left the qunari's mouth when they reached him, his voice unmistakable even in all the fuss they seemed to have stirred.
Melchor quickly directed them to his own chambers, prompting Carver to leave Telin on his bed. He quickly washed his hands thoroughly in one of the basins he kept in the room, then approached her with blown eyes and worry written all over his handsome features. Immediately, his hands were on her, glowing a familiar blue against her bloodied skin.
Relief washed through her with the strength of a wave crushing against the rocks of cliff, and she found herself able to breathe and think with much more ease than before.
"Thanks" she sighed finally, when the fog of pain had cleared altogether from her mind.
In front of her, Melchor scowled as he knelt down to exam the gaping wound on her left tight.
"What in the Maker's name happened to you?!" he demanded as his magic started to probe the wound.
Telin opened her mouth to reply, but Sinead anticipated her.
"We had a run-in with some Qunari; she caught one of their spears with her leg" she told him drily, her own joke falling flat even to her own ears. Humor was not the solution to work through the frenzy she had worked herself in, but old habits were always hard to break…
"You mean Tal-Vashot?" Melchor asked, to clarify the distinction as if they didn't know any better.
"No – Telin began, wincing mid sentence as his magic slowly pried her flesh open, leaving behind a stinging sensation – these were members of the Antaam" she elaborated, watching his face fall even further, his brows pinched in a tight frown in between his shadowed eyes.
He didn't say anything for a long while as he kept working on her leg, attentively stitching muscles and skin where they belonged; then, when only a pink and scratchy scar remained, he spoke up once more.
"Thank you for bringing her to me, I owe you" he finally said, getting back up to his feet and facing both siblings with a bob of his horned head. "But if you'll excuse us, I'd like to have a word with her, now" he explained, his voice holding a weight of command that neither Hawkes seemed able to refuse.
"Of course. We'll see you when you're better, ok?" Sinead agreed.
When brother and sister had said their goodbyes and had disappeared out the door, Melchor let go of an angry sigh.
"Do you care to tell me how you ended up fighting members of the Antaam, or should I just guess, perhaps?" he asked, his words clipped and hard, definitely betraying his flaring temper.
"We were helping a Sarebaas to – "
" A what? Are you insane?!" he shouted, making her flinch at the sudden loudness.
"I knew it was a trap" Telin murmured guiltily, unable to look at him in the eyes as she confessed that. The strangled noise that came from him was all she needed to gauge his reaction.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he asked, almost exasperated. "Because, in case you were wondering, it doesn't!" he bristled , his hands unclenching at his sides to run through his long white tresses in an attempt to calm himself.
Finally, after what felt like an entire age, he sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. What was done was done, it was futile getting angry for something he couldn't change. The important thing was that Telin was safe and none the worse for wear.
"I swear, Kadan, you make me worry so fucking much…" he breathed, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. He plopped down on the bed next to her, the mattress bending slightly under his weight, and leaned on her shoulder.
Telin took a second longer to metabolize his words, half of her ashamed and sorry to have made him worry so much, the other taking care to impress the moment to memory.
"I'm sorry, I tried to – " her brain stopped her halfway through the sentence, pushing a very precise word at the front of her mind.
Did he just call me – ?
Yes, yes he had.
Kadan.
My heart.
Telin's central computer showed her the blue screen of death for a split second before rebooting itself in an attempt to not blow up. Color raised to her cheeks as she walked through the implications of that simple, yet deeply meaningful word.
Kadan.
It wasn't a term bestowed lightly among the Qun, but Melchor was Vashot – did it held the same weight and meaning to him?
She was silent for probably too long, because the mage lifted himself from her side, leaning forward to get a look at her face.
"You ok?" he asked, taking in the way both her neck and cheeks were flushed, but her eyes wouldn't raise to meet his.
Telin considered his question, aware of the puzzlement in his voice, and imposed herself to calm down. He'd probably just called her that on the spur of the moment, without thinking about it. Or perhaps the word had a whole different meaning to him. Whichever the case, she shouldn't have made a big deal out of it, regardless.
"I'm fine, I promise. As I was saying, I tried to warn Hawke that helping the Sarebaas was dangerous, but she wanted to take the chance to help another mage. I still have no idea how the Chantry Sister managed to get her hands on him, but I do know why. Sister Petrice is a vicious agitator, who's only objective is to disseminate dissent between the people she's supposed to guide. The Antaam followed the trail she conveniently left for them, leading them to us. In the end it was all pointless; the Sarebaas chose to go back, and he died at the hands of the Arvaard . That's when skirmish began, anyway. It was a pointless endeavor, but I let it happen anyway" Telin concluded bitterly, angered at both herself and the Sister. Despite her knowledge, she had stood by and watched as the seed of hate took root by the hands of a social climber without an ounce of respect for the lives she stomped on.
And it angered her further to know that she had no way of eradicating the Sister from the Chantry save from killing her…
And maybe that wouldn't be such a terrible idea.
A cool finger jabbed itself gently in between her eyes, easing out the creases of her frown. She turned to look back up at Melchor, noticing the intensity with which he was regarding her in that moment.
Her stomach churned, tightening itself into knots.
"What" she choked, suddenly very aware that she was sitting on his bed while still wearing her dusty and bloodied leathers and probably smelling, while he was close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his skin.
"You look as if you want to plant a dagger in someone's back" Melchor replied matter-of-factly, and maybe even with a little bit of amusement in his voice.
"I know, and that's because it's exactly what I want to do" she countered, her scowl setting itself back in place as her resolution strengthen. If taking out Sister Petrice could, in any way, help avoid some of the bloodshed to come, she'd happily shoot an arrow in her heart.
"Kadan, please. Whatever you think you have to do – don't" Melchor warned her, his hand moving away. He eyed her sternly, hoping that she would heed her words.
But Telin seemed impervious to everything he had to say, all of it.
It was the second time he had called her Kadan, and he was quickly losing confidence that she knew the meaning of it. Melchor was aware that he was being a bit of a coward in using such subtleties with her, but Simmons' words echoed in his head; he had to make a step forward with her, make sure she could feel for him what he felt for her, and he hoped to prod in the gentlest of ways, if only to avoid misunderstandings or hurt on each side.
Telin, on her part, brushed the endearment aside, refusing to let it go to her head; she was almost completely sure he did not mean it the way she was hoping it would.
She knew the taste of disappointment all too well; it was an old friend she had no wish to any time soon – or ever again, if she could.
And besides, there were more important matters at hand that needed her attention, and her feelings were best left in the background if she truly wanted to accomplish her goal.
"You don't understand, Melchor. Petrice is a menace, I have to take care of her before it's too late to act. We – the Guild – cannot touch neither the Chantry nor her, but a single individual acting independently would be able to do the job just fine" Telin insisted, raising from the bed in the vehemence of her speech. Her legs wobbled at the sudden weight, reminding her that she had barely just been healed from a severe injury. Melchor reached out to her, his hands gripping at her waist to keep her upright.
"Don't make me order you to stand down, Telin" he breathed morosely, worry already snaking down his spine at the thought. It wasn't the first time he saw her with such determination in her eyes, but there was something else there, an edge of danger that hadn't been there before. He wondered for a moment whether such ruthlessness was his fault; he had been the one to insist to have her trained to kill, after all.
"I'm sorry, but you're not going to change my mind on this. The only thing I can promise is that I will do the utmost to leave you and the Guild out of this; there will be no repercussion on you" she kept on going stubbornly, her mind made up.
She could already see how she was going to proceed with it: it would require some time to stalk the Sister and establish her routine, but she was confident she could succeed in her endeavor. All she needed was a window of time when the woman would be out of the Chantry, so that she could strike undisturbed.
Her attention was diverted back to the present when his big hands squeezed on her hips, dragging her forward. Telin braced herself against the sudden movement, her hands going to rest on his broad shoulders for support as she forcefully stepped in between his legs. Her breath hitched when she caught a glimpse of his face; Melchor was staring up at her with a searing intensity, his violet eyes burning with a feeling she had never before seen aimed at herself.
"Listen to me Kadan – I'm not worried about myself, or the Guild for that matter. It's you I don't want to see in harm's way. Do you understand?" he told her seriously, his gaze locked with hers in one last attempt to convey his feelings without spelling them out for her.
Melchor felt her tense like a bow string under his hands, her face betraying the tumult of thoughts whirling inside her head.
Telin was fighting an internal conflict between her heart and her mind; one part was screaming at her to ignore the blatant meaning behind his words, while the other was insisting that they were what she wanted them to be. After all, how did they say?
One's an incident;
Two's a coincidence;
Three's a pattern.
She hesitated for a moment longer, but in the end she settled on a decision. If there was one thing Thedas had thought her, it was that moments were fleeting , and inaction wasn't a valid choice.
She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the inevitability of disappointment.
"When you call me that," she begun, the fingers of one hand tangling themselves with the strands of white hair that fell over one shoulder, "do you mean it?" she finally asked, eyes flicking down to his mouth before trailing back up to his.
Hearing her acknowledge his words, Melchor felt something melt in the middle of his chest: relief, happiness, desire…he wasn't sure. All he knew was that Telin was looking at him with the most beautiful yet sorrowful expression he had ever seen; her eyes were full of hope and already resigned at the same time, as if she was expecting him to just stomp on her feelings.
In that moment, he knew she had given him the possibility of breaking her in a million pieces, baring herself to him.
But he had no intention to break her, if not maybe for all the right reasons.
Melchor felt her take a deep breath when one of his hands moved to cup her cheek.
"I mean it. You are Kadan" he said, his voice barely higher than a whisper. "I don't know what I'd do if you were to get hurt, Telin" he added, his thumb brushing lightly on her bottom lip.
Telin was burning hotter than the sun, she was sure, with her heart beating mercilessly in her throat.
He meant it.
He was serious…
A sudden hunger bloomed in her stomach, and in a second she was yearning for more of everything.
"Kadan, where the heart lies" she said, answering a question he hadn't voiced. Melchor smiled back, suddenly beaming.
"I was right then. You do know what it means" he chuckled at his own expenses, glad to have persisted. Telin nodded meekly. "And yet you let me repeat it three times before giving a reaction, how cruel" he said jokingly to tease her.
"I know the word and what it means in the Qun" she specified, "I wasn't sure it held the same value to you."
At that, Melchor was left speechless for a second.
Was it possible that she had never picked up on all the signals he had thrown her way up until that point? He was aware that his nature was one of teasing and humor, but to so surely dismiss all his attentions as just mere jokes was something else; something that gave him yet another insight on her character.
"Did you really assume that all my flirting was for naught?" he asked then, suddenly very serious.
Telin felt her cheeks darken one or two shades more, shame taking the place left vacant by her embarrassment. She knew she could be thick when it came down to truly assessing someone's intentions towards her, but she usually always dismissed the interest shown to her as politeness or just a part of someone's character.
No one had ever flirted with her for real, and the few times she had believed it to be true, she had been let down. With time, she had learned not to build any expectation when it came to her personal interactions, romantic or else.
"I just – I thought you weren't being serious, is all" she finally confessed with a weak shrug.
Melchor moved the hand on her cheek to cup her chin, drawing her forward until their foreheads rested against each other.
"I'm always serious when it comes to you, Telin" he told her in a breath, sighing in contentment as he hugged her closer.
"Maia" Telin whispered then.
Melchor moved back a breath to look at her, unsure of what to do with the word she had given him.
"That's my name" she explained with a small smile, pleased to see the sparkle in his eyes.
"Maia" Melchor repeated slowly, rolling the foreign name on his tongue. To him, it sounded sweet and soft, just like her.
Telin shuddered as she heard her name on his lips, something bittersweet unraveling inside her. It was good to hear her real name out loud after so long, even better when it was Melchor to call her that.
A surge of affection washed through her, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him.
Her eyes flicked back and forth from his eyes to his lips a couple times, and when he caught her, he gave her a smug grin, well aware of what she wanted.
They leaned in almost imperceptibly, their mouths hovering just a breath away from each other – before a forceful knock on the door had them both scrambling back with a start.
"Melchor! Is Telin ok? I saw the two Hawkes leave, is she alright?" Simmons voice came from the other side of the door apprehensively.
The qunari let go of a deep breath, resting is head against her shoulder for a second before he gently moved her out of the way to get up.
"Yes, come on in!" he called back, taking Telin's hand to lead her in the foyer with him.
The door opened immediately after, and Simmons sighed in relief when he saw Telin safe and sound next to Melchor. His eyes scanned her figure to examine her, grimacing as he noticed the amount of blood that stained the leg of her breeches; he trailed back up and down one more time before he was satisfied, and it was only then that he noticed how Telin's hand was intertwined with Melchor's.
He snorted.
"Well, looks like I needn't have worried" he commented, resting his weight on one foot and eying the pair with something akin to satisfaction. "Glad to see you still standing, Telin" he offered with a nod, and then backtracked until he was out the room and the door had closed behind him.