I is for Ice
They always asked if she was cold. It would almost be sweet, if it wasn't so annoying, and if they were actually concerned for her well being and not their own prudery. Her wardrobe suited her just fine and no, she never minded the cold.
Why would she? She was a child of the Korcari Wilds. She was bred for the freezing temperatures and the constant mist. Ferelden may be foul-smelling, rainy bog, but it was a tropical paradise compared to the swamps that were perpetually iced over and the wind that whipped through the trees, sharper than any razor. Alistair and Faleni had spent but a short time there, and they shivered and shook and hoped for the cold snap to end. They didn't realize it never would. They wouldn't have survived in the Wilds.
But she had an affinity for the ice and cold; revelled in it. It sharpened her senses, opened her eyes, forced her to stay active and alert in order to survive. She accepted it as a part of her and harnessed it's power. What need had she to hide from it? Let the others complain, bundle themselves up and wish for warmer weather. They hid from the ice's bite and they were weak for it; lethargic and stupid.
The campfire blazed merrily away in front of her. The light it gave off was nice, even if she didn't need the heat. The silence around her was broken by the sound of laughter from the main camp. She glanced over at the rest of the group. Leliana was telling a story, and apparently something she said made Alistair, Zevran, and Faleni fall over each other in laughter. Oghren was hiccuping in mirth, and even Wynne had a smile on her face. Laughter, when the Blight was all around them? Just how blind were they? Morrigan snorted in contempt. Let them cling together for comfort. She had the ice.