Dulce
Zevran
Morrigan returns from the lake, glaring at them, and Alistair, sitting with elbows on knees, observes, "They've been a while..."
Morrigan looks at him briefly, then turns away her gaze contemptuously, striding to her tent with the words, "They are not bathing. The bard appears to have the fool notion of teaching your fellow Warden to swim."
The templar gazes at her, open-mouthed, for a moment lost in thought; he tries and fails to hide the slight reddening of his ears. "Ah." A pause, his eyes straying unconsciously to the tree line. "Right." Zevran watches him amusedly across the fire, wondering what sort of pleasant images are in his head, as the Warden looks determinedly at the dirt, swallowing. Poor fellow.
Morgana and Leliana return short minutes afterwards, clad in loose tunics, hair still dripping down their backs. He notices that the mage is slightly pale and out of breath, looking round the camp shyly and refusing to meet anyone's eye; he grins widely and slightly lecherously at her, giving her "the Lone Wolf, number three", and raises his eyebrows. He lets his tongue wrap around the words, caressing them as his eyes do the same to her. "I did not know they called it 'swimming' in Ferelden."
Eyes widening, she blushes, the whiteness induced by this country's freezing water abruptly fleeing her face. Oh, this is almost as enjoyable as playing with the other Warden. Almost.
"Leave her, Zevran," Leliana and Alistair say in chorus, looking at each other in astonishment, while Morgana herself tries not to laugh.
"Besides, I think her tastes lie elsewhere," Leliana adds with a sweet, devilish smile, walking away to dry her hair.
Alistair catches Morgana's arm as she makes to walk past him, eyes concerned, and Zevran sits, lazily lip-reading.
You look a little...
I'm fine, Alistair. I'm just... glad to be learning. I can't yet. She says it might take a time, but I'm more comfortable than I was.
Good. You... gave me a scare in the forest. The templar gives a nervous laugh to try and cover the depth of feeling in the statement, but Zevran remembers Leliana's recounting of the tale, of how he was apparently wild-eyed and terrified as he took her from the pool. And if it'll make all... this... easier for you, I guess it's good, right?
The female Warden simply looks at Alistair for a moment, eyes aglow in the firelight, his hand still resting on her arm, and Zevran shakes his head in frustration at their ignorance, recognising the look in her eyes all too well; it is mirrored in the templar's. Then she smiles. I hope so. She steps back, walking across to her pack, and the man watches her go, eyes seemingly unable to leave her.
She is talking with Leliana about something when Zevran says, as casually as he can, "She is quite the woman, is she not?" His eyes flicker to Alistair, watching the man's reaction carefully.
Alistair tenses instinctively, looking at his boots. "I... I suppose so. I mean, she's recruited the elves, saved the Arl..." His voice trails off.
"Si, but that is not necessarily what I am speaking of. She is..." He tries to find the word, murmuring eventually, "Dulce." Whether she is is beside the point - he will poke until he has a reaction. Ah, how he has missed this.
"What?" Alistair asks sharply, raising his head; the use of Antivan, as expected, has clearly discomfited him.
"She seems... sweet," he clarifies.
The Warden raises a sceptical eyebrow. "'Sweet'? You called her a 'deadly sex goddess', if I remember rightly," he remarks, Fereldan accent wrapping comfortably round his usual shield of sarcasm.
"Oh, yes," he replies. "She is that also. If I may say so, she does have quite the..."
There it is, the Warden turning red. Zevran carefully keeps the triumph from his face as Alistair exclaims, "I am not talking about her like this! She's... She's my fellow Warden, and my friend, and this is just wrong. And stop looking at her like that."
"Looking at her?" Zevran asks innocently, making sure to look at her exactly like that.
"Yes, like she's... a fine cheese, or something. I don't know." Alistair runs a hand down his face with an exasperated sigh.
A fine cheese? How very... eloquent. Zevran struggles not to laugh. "I see. But surely you have also looked at her this way?"
Astonishingly, Alistair turns even redder. "No. Never," he says, stumbling over the lies, eyes straying to her once again. "I... don't... think about her like that..."
Zevran stands, saying smoothly, "I am sure," and leaving the Warden to squirm.