The streets were already bustling with vendors and townsfolk dressed in all variety of finery and masks – from the absurd to the beautifully ornate. Hawke was again reminded of her need to obtain her own mask, and her promise that she would do so with Fenris before they met up with Varric, Merrill, Isabela, and Aveline at the Chantry. Anders said he had no interest in celebrating the holiday and declared his intention to spend his time sulking in his clinic (those were Hawke's words, though, not his own).

Hawke turned to tell her mother her plans, but saw that she was already making her way toward Lady Laurent – her new best friend – and some other noble women who were waving and smiling at her. Well, I'm glad mother is pleased and has met people of her ilk at last. I know I will never live up to her expectations as Lady Hawke, but as long as she can find someone else to do all her…noble-y stuff with, I think we're both satisfied.

Hawke continued thinking on her mother's latest endeavors as she made the short trip to Fenris' mansion. As she approached his door, however, her thoughts switched to curiosity at what he might wear that evening. I hope it's one of those silk shirts…

Before she had a chance to knock on the door he was already opening it and started as he saw her standing there, her fist poised mid-air as she, too, nearly jumped. She quickly took a step back to give him room to step outside, giving him a quick once-over with her eyes. Dammit. He's wearing his armor. At least it's one of the shiny new sets that he showed me – one of the several Danarius had left at the mansion.

"Hawke, I- almost didn't recognized you," he gave her an appraising look. "New armor?"

She laughed, "Not armor per se, but…" she waggled her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner as she reached back and flipped her hood up over her head, draping it loosely on her shoulders. She then tugged her scarf up over her face, covering her mouth and nose. "Hmmm? What do you think?" her voice was slightly muffled behind the fabric of the handkerchief.

Fenris let out a throaty laugh, "I think you look ready to ambush a caravan. Have our plans for this evening changed, then?"

She pulled the handkerchief back down and dropped the hood back again, laughing as well. "That does sound like fun, but I've honestly been looking forward to this evening for a few weeks now. We'll have to save the thieving for another night." She winked at him. "Now, shall we go find some masks so we can terrorize the residents of Kirkwall in anonymity?" Turning she began to walk toward the vendor stalls that were set up along the street back to the chantry. Fenris paused for a moment to watch her. It had been a while since he had seen her in such high spirits and he had to admit, it made her all the more attractive to him. He, too, had been looking forward to an evening out with her and the few individuals he now considered friends of a sort. But seeing Hawke back to her old self – the woman she had been before they had left for the Deep Roads – made him even more eager.

He shifted the weight of his sword to hang more comfortably on his back as he began to stride towards her, catching her up quickly. Without hesitating, he reached down for her hand and entwined his fingers with hers, offering her a warm smile as she looked up at him a bit shyly, her cheeks a bit pink now.

I don't know what we are, he thought, unknowingly echoing her own thoughts from earlier that evening. But I'm enjoying it.

"This one, Hawke," Fenris insisted for the third time, holding up a simple mask made of black leather that was designed to tie in the back and hold it in place tightly. It was just wide enough that it covered her eyebrows down to just above the tip of her nose and had two almond-shaped cutouts for her eyes.

"Not this one?" Hawke turned to face him, batting her eyes at him through a rather ostentatious mask that reminded him of a peacock, covered in purple and blue feathers of varying shades with flecks of gold surrounding the eyes.

"I was hoping to purchase that one for myself," he replied, dryly, eliciting another laugh out of her. "But seriously, Hawke, I don't want to enrage the dwarf. We should make our purchases and get moving."

"All right, all right," Hawke sighed resignedly. "But I'm picking out yours." She grabbed one that was very similar in style to hers, just a bit larger and in a deep burgundy leather rather than black. Fenris rolled his eyes, but was glad she had not opted for one of the feathery masks that seemed very popular with the nobility. They made their purchases and helped each other with their masks.

"I think we still look like we're going to rob a caravan," Hawke smiled slyly, "Albeit in style." She gave an exaggerated twirl and nearly collided with a nobleman who was walking past.

"Pardon me, messere," she stifled a laugh, but ended up snorting. The man gave her an unappreciative look through his own feathered mask as he continued walking without saying anything.

Rolling his eyes, Fenris grabbed her hand again and pulled her along through the crowded street toward the Chantry. As they drew near the square, lively music could be heard along with the din of conversations and laughter as the celebration was well underway.

"There you are, finally!" Isabela exclaimed as Hawke and Fenris approached the group. She was holding a large flagon of ale and held it up in the air in a salute. She was wearing a steel Orlesian mask that covered most of her face, exposing only her chin and mouth. Merrill was standing next to Isabela, looking around nervously, as she wasn't used to large crowds. Her mask was made of white silk with white feathers on the outside edges. Varric wore no mask, and Aveline was wearing her guard helmet.

"You guys need to get into the spirit of things," Hawke addressed the dwarf and the Guard Captain, crossing her arms. Aveline sighed and ignored her remark, continuing to watch the festivities, never quite off duty.

"Maybe after a few drinks you can talk me into a mask, but for now, this is as festive as I get," Varric retorted, eying a stand a few yards away where a woman stood, selling ale.

"I'll just be over there," Aveline said, motioning toward an empty table – one of many that had been set up for the evening. Isabela was now trying to talk Merrill into dancing as she dragged the poor elf closer to the band that was playing a jaunty tune. Varric, Fenris, and Hawke headed toward the ale vendor.

Hawke was refusing Varric's third offer of buying her a drink. She finally agreed on a compromise, "If you stop harassing me about the ale, I'll try one of your sodding nug sticks you keep raging on about." Varric raised an eyebrow at this and grinned eagerly.

"Deal."

Fenris gave Hawke a wary glance and she just shrugged. After Varric had purchased his beverage they made their way around the square until he found a food stand run by one of the Merchant's Guild members. Hawke had to admit, the smells coming from the stand were rather enticing. I just need to stop imagining one of those adorable little creatures while I…eat… her complexion began to turn a bit green as she tried not to think about it.

"Order one for me, as well, dwarf. I will not be outdone by Hawke," Fenris spoke up with a mock competitive tone. Varric nearly danced with delight at the thought of having convinced two non-dwarves to try nug.

Stepping up to the food stand, Varric slammed his coin down, "Four roasted nug on a stick!" The dwarf running the stand handed each of them their fare and watched with curiosity as the human and the elf studied the food closely, hesitant to try it.

"Well it's not going to start dancing. Try it!" Varric rolled his eyes.

Hawke closed her eyes in an effort not to think about what a live nug looked like and carefully took a bite. After chewing for a second and letting the flavor fill her mouth, her eyes snapped open.

"Andraste's right buttcheek, but this is good!" she took another large bite. "Mmmmm…"

Varric laughed, "See what you've been missing out on all this time?"

Fenris had been watching Hawke, still holding his own stick a few inches away from his mouth. He was simultaneously distracted by the sight of her biting down on the tender meat, and curious about what it actually tasted like. Finally tearing his eyes away, he shrugged to himself and gave it a try.

"I suppose it's not bad," Fenris said after a moment, "But honestly, it just tastes like chicken to me."

"If I had a sovereign for every time someone said that…" Varric grumbled. "It tastes nothing like chicken. It's so much better!" Hawke laughed at his apparent passion about dwarven cuisine.

The three headed back to join the others, eating their food on the way. They spent the night in pleasant companionship, laughing and recounting stories of their adventures together. Isabela convinced Hawke to dance with her several times – insisting that Hawke had improved. Eventually the pirate was too drunk to stand up straight so she sat at the table, resting her head in her arms.

After some time, an acrobatic troupe had made their way to the area where Hawke and her companions had been seated. They watched in awe at the various acts the group performed, until Varric hopped up suddenly out of his chair and ran over to one of the members of the troupe. He had a short conversation with him, but he was waving his hands animatedly looking very excited.

"What on earth is Varric doing?" Hawke turned to the others. Fenris smiled slyly, as he had overheard enough of the conversation to gather what the dwarf was up to. Finally, the man that Varric had been speaking with came over to the table and stood in front of Hawke. He was brandishing three unlit torches and Hawke suddenly realized what was happening.

"Varric…" she raised her eyebrows at the dwarf who was now seated across from her.

"You owe us Hawke," he raised his mug to her. She glanced nervously at the others. Merrill and Aveline just looked confused, but Fenris avoided her eye contact for fear of bursting out laughing.

Hawke sighed in resignation and stood, loosening up her arms and neck. "If I start the Chantry on fire, it's on you, Varric." The dwarf just shrugged and watched her with a grin on his face. He already had his notebook out, hand poised to start sketching.

"And you'd better make me look good," she added, nodding her head toward his notebook.

"Quit stalling, Hawke."

She turned to the acrobat who was now lighting the torches with a flint. He handed them to her as she walked a few paces from the tables and turned to face the crowd that was now forming. Maker, don't let me die, she thought wryly. Testing the weight of the now flaming torches in her hands she tossed them up one by one in a slow steady juggle. Thankfully, it was hard to see the gazes of her friends with the blinding torchlight in front of her and the dark backdrop of night. After she fell into a good rhythm, she picked up the pace a bit.

The crowd continued to grow around her and the musicians had switched to a tune that kept time with her steady pace. As she grew more comfortable, she began adding some flourishes to her routine, crossing her hands and catching the opposite torches. Tossing them slightly behind her and reaching with her opposite arm behind her back. Juggling two torches in one hand and one in the other. I guess this is one of those things you don't forget how to do, she told herself, her confidence growing. It's all coming back to me, even though it's been several years since I've done this with torches.

The crowd cheered as she tossed the torches up higher and added a spin before catching them and resuming the juggling. She saw the acrobat from earlier out of the corner of her eye, waving a fourth torch at her with a grin on his face. Pursing her lips and swallowing her nerves, Hawke gave him a quick nod. After timing it, the man tossed the torch into the fray so she was now juggling all four of them. The crowd grew louder. She smiled and motioned with her head at the other juggler. He caught her meaning and moved to stand a few feet across from her, facing her. She carefully began tossing the torches toward him, and he back to her as the crowd cheered loudly. Hawke's face grew flush with embarrassment but she continued on. After several minutes of this, Hawke was back to juggling all four torches on her own.

Her confidence surging even more, Hawke decided to try something else. She blew out two of the torches as they passed in front of her face, tossing them to the side as she was juggling. Now down to two torches she caught one in each hand and began spinning them as she so often did with her daggers. She occasionally tossed one or both in the air, still spinning, before catching them, adding in some twirls and behind-the-back catches. She was beginning to sweat but was too caught up in the excitement to stop. She smoothly switched between spinning one above her head and the other to her side, and back again. Then she was twirling one in front while the she spun the other behind her. The pace grew dizzying as she tried to focus and keep in time with the ever-increasing tempo of the music.

In her mind, she was back on the road with her family; she and her father providing similar entertainment to her mother and siblings. She remembered many of the routines they had worked out together and it brought a smile to her face. She continued spinning and tossing and twirling the torches as her body moved fluidly in time to the music. She bent backward, ducking under the torches as she brought them across her chest and over her head, then bent forward as she spun them behind her, over her back. Moving and twisting and turning, Hawke had the torches spinning so they were a whirl of fire moving around her lithe body. She was caught up in the rhythm of it, unaware of the passage of time or the excited crowd surrounding her.

Hawke began to grow breathless and decided to end with a bang. She crouched as she began flipping the torches up in the air, one in each hand. Once she felt grounded enough and that she could gain proper momentum, she pressed down with all her strength and threw herself into a backflip, tossing both torches high up into the air as she did so. The crowd gasped and grew silent as she landed in a crouch, one leg stretched out in front of her, the other bent underneath her, her knee nearly touching the ground. Reaching out both her hands, she deftly caught both torches, swiftly bringing them to her face and blowing them both out with one heaving breath.

The crowd roared, but she couldn't see as she was momentarily blinded by the loss of the bright firelight. She merely took a quick bow and turned to where she knew the acrobat was standing, handing him the torches. She was panting and blushing as the man took her hand in both of his, shaking it firmly, grinning at her. Slowly regaining her vision, she made her way shyly back to her waiting friends, strangely nervous about the show she just gave.

Looking up at her friends she noticed they were all staring at her, mouths agape – except Merrill who was grinning and clapping her hands excitedly. Even Isabela had sat up again to watch the display.

"Maker's breath, Hawke. That was amazing." Varric finally spoke up, his hand frozen, clutching his pencil above the open journal in front of him. Hawke noticed he hadn't actually sketched anything.

Throwing herself back in her chair, intentionally avoiding Fenris' gaze, Hawke grabbed up the mug of water she had been drinking and chugged it down. Varric, Merrill, and Aveline were now talking animatedly as Varric finally began sketching Hawke juggling torches.

"I have to admit," Fenris finally spoke up next to her, "When you had previously mentioned juggling torches, I thought you were joking. That was…impressive." She finally turned her head to meet his gaze, her face now crimson, though she hoped he didn't notice in the dim light of the Chantry square.

"Just one of the things my father taught me growing up," she tried to sound dismissive but her voice quavered with nervousness. The expression on his face caused her to shift uncomfortably in her seat. He had a hint of his infamous determination in his eyes which made her heart beat wildly.

"Surely with the time you spent in Antiva, you've seen plenty of acrobats and jugglers far more impressive," she tried changing the subject. Fenris didn't respond, his gaze remained as steady and intense as ever. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Hawke cleared her throat and announced that she was going to get some more water. She grabbed her mug and hurried to a nearby servant who was walking around with a bucket of water and a ladle.

By the time Hawke returned, Fenris and Aveline were several yards from the table, caught up in a discussion with a blade salesman from Orlais. Relieved, Hawke plopped back down in her seat next to Merrill and Isabela. Varric was still sketching away and the two women were now, rather drunkenly, chatting about Merrill's hair of all things.

"I think I might try the braid thing," Isabela was saying, holding one of the elf's own braids in between her fingers, staring closely at it.

"I could show you!" Merrill responded excitedly. Isabela laughed and pushed the braid back behind Merrill's ear. As she did so, her hand brushed up against the tip of the mage's ear and Merrill let out a startled squeak as her faced began to turn red. Isabela burst out laughing at the girl's reaction.

"Sorry, kitten," the pirate apologized, clearly amused by Merrill's reaction.

Hawke was rather confused, "Did I miss something?"

"I accidentally brushed her ear with my hand."

"I don't understand."

Isabella raised an eyebrow, "You know about elves' ears, surely."

Feeling that she was missing something rather important, Hawke cleared her throat uncomfortably and gave Merrill a pleading look.

"Our ears, uhm," Merrill looked down, clearly embarrassed. "They're…very sensitive."

"That's one way of putting it," Isabela chuckled, taking another swig of ale.

Suddenly, Hawke realized what she meant. Oh, Maker, she grimaced. Their ears are…well, an erogenous zone. Her face was turning crimson yet again that evening as she recalled several occasions on which she had intentionally touched Fenris' ears. No wonder he reacted the way he did the first time I touched them, telling him they were beautiful. I can't believe he didn't tell me! Surely he must know that I was clueless. Oh Andraste's nipples, I hope he knew I was clueless. Surely he wouldn't… She swallowed hard as the thought crossed her mind that maybe he preferred not telling her. Well then, two can play that game. A smile crept across Hawke's face as the blush faded and she tucked away her new knowledge for future use.