"Oh, Zevran. Look at this pretty bar we found while we were out." He turned and gazed down at the bar of gold in her hand. She had bounded over to him so giddily.
"Here, hold out your hands. It's for you. We sold the silver one but I wanted you to have this one."
"Why?" He knew his assumption track record with her was still off, but he still bristled a little on reflex. What did she want from him in return? She just looked from the bar to him and then repeated the action. Her face expectant as if she was trying to say something without speaking.
"Its like you. You are all bright and golden. Your hair, skin, and even your eyes. Hasn't anyone ever told you?" Wren's voice slowed and her expression morphed to confusion. He blinked. That was...a compliment. An honest one at that.
"No one has ever used such a comparison. Nor given me anything without expecting something in return." Zevran lowered his suspicions some, but remained wary of her.
"Well, that's what I did." Then she walked off. More like skipped off. His hands closed over the bar as he examined it. It was unfair for him, he knew, to group her with people from his upbringing. She appeared unoffended as she went off to cook as it was her turn today.
"Where did you find this?" He asked later as she was nearly done with the stew. It was a bit darker now and she looked up at him, the blue of her eyes almost catching him off guard again. Wren seemed to be off in her own world until she realized what he had asked her.
"When we found Wynne at the Circle, it was one of many things I kept. First, I had been planning to sell it but it was so pretty, I didn't. Then we met you and I felt that you would like it more. The silver one was found in our time in Orzammar…" Her voice lowered until it stopped altogether. Her mouth then drew into a line and he recognized it as a sign her thoughts had become negative.
"The Deep Roads." Zevran hummed and Wren nodded absently. If he had been healed, at the time, he would have been taken along with her and the others.
"The Deep Roads." She said back, with her voice just barely above a whisper. He didn't know what to do when her face got that haunted look on it. Not until tonight, where he got an idea.
"Do you like stories, hermosa luna?" At the words, her head snapped up.
"You called me that the other night. What does it mean?"
"I wondered when you would ask me that." He dished himself up a bowl of fish stew and took a seat next to her as the others came through for their servings.
"It translates in Common to 'beautiful moon'. Tell me, Warden. Where did you get such lovely white hair?" One of her hands came up to push longer ends out of her face as she watched the fire crackle.
"I was struck by lightning sometime last year. I got caught in the storm while hunting wi- while hunting. Was blind for about a month. Lucky my sight even returned." She swallowed a bite of food and began to eat with vigor. Something he was used to after hearing of Warden appetites. Again, she seemed to be hiding something but he let it slide. Perhaps, he would find out one day.
The Dalish woman set her now empty bowl down near the fire and lifted the left sleeve of her tunic. Zevran saw the spidery pink lines from that night and couldn't help but marvel at them. So, these were proof she had survived such an ordeal.
"I'm shocked you didn't notice when you caught me fishing." Wren jested lightly.
"Do not get me wrong, Warden, I saw them. I was just too busy enjoying how gorgeous you looked in the moonlight, water droplets making you glisten as you fished."
"Ever the flatterer, hm?"
"You say that like you think I don't mean it. I say it because I believe you to be so. Should I not?"
"You asked me if I liked stories earlier. Are you going to tell me of one of your adventures?" She asked, her eyes briefly flickering to her fellow Warden. Curious, I allowed her to change the topic and told her of the time I survived a job by falling out of a window and getting robbed. Her unease turns to interest and fascination.