Author's Note - I honestly don't know what I was doing with this one. It was just interesting to try and write from Faendal's perspective, especially considering how much I enjoy abusing the poor guy. This ended up a lot more heavy than I expected, but I hope you still have fun reading about these two troublemakers.

Prompt: War Paint

During one of their many long treks through the wilderness and mountains between Riverwood and Whiterun, Faendal noticed something about Gabrielle. Even though she was a relatively strange and happy Redguard and seemed to be able to carry more than her own body weight and produce a sword, three books, and a large staff from almost nowhere, she never really took off her helmet, armor, or weapons. It had honestly been almost weeks since the last time he'd seen her face.

Did she ever take that stuff off?

Faendal vaguely remembered seeing her face before she got that helmet and she'd had some kind of paint on her face. Was her face really painted? Or was it something else?

The more that the elf thought of this, the more curious he became and the more the urge to find out the truth niggled at his brain. But how? He couldn't exactly come out and ask her about it, could he? He knew almost nothing about Redguard's and even though he'd been traveling with this particular one for weeks now, that didn't guarantee that she'd be okay with those kind of questions. The last time he'd bothered her about anything, specifically her archery lessons, she'd pickpocketed him and then pushed him into the stream after threatening to use him for target practice. She'd still used him for target practice, but she'd run up the mountain before he could do anything but follow after her.

He still didn't know what that was all about…

He felt a strong tug and found himself looking up at the very Redguard he'd been thinking about.

"You're just trying to get killed, aren't you?" She asked him. Of what he could see through her helmet, her eyes seemed amused, but he could imagine them tight around the edges.

"What?" He couldn't help but ask. She nodded her head towards the edge of the mountain, where he had been about to step off and fall to his death.

He gulped and muttered a quiet thank you. The edges of her mouth twitched into what was the beginning of a smile before straightening out. She dragged him back to his feet and started back on the trail.

It was quiet between the two before Gabrielle stopped and turned back around to face Faendal. He quickly halted and backed up to avoid running straight into her.

"So," She started, "what was so important that you almost walked off the side of the mountain?"

"Ummm...," Faendal was at something of a loss for words. He debated whether or not this was a good idea, but ultimately, Gabrielle made it easy.

She sighed and reached up to scratch at her head, but her helmet was in the way. She gave a small growl and lifted it off her head. To answer Faendal's question, she did still have the design on her face, but it looked smeared and faded around the edges.

As Gabrielle smoothed down her hair, the elf couldn't help blurting out,

"Is that war paint?"

She stopped and stared at him for a moment before she huffed out a breathy laugh.

"Is that what was distracting you?"

The silence was answer enough and she started to giggle at him before she stifled it. Faendal tried not to cross his arms and look upset, but Gabrielle could obviously see that he was bothered.

"Yeah. It's war paint. My mother helped me pick the design and my father taught me how to apply it."

"You have a family?" He couldn't help but ask. He'd never had the courage to find out before.

She smiled, small and bittersweet, "Yes, of course. Don't you?"

This time, the silence between them was heavier. Gabrielle placed the helmet back on her head, hiding her eyes, her sad smile, and her regret from the world. She turned back towards the path and Faeldon followed dutifully behind.