"Ought I be jealous?" But her tone is joking, warm. A terribly fine thing, to see a gift well received, especially after the work she went through procuring the bastard.
Her hand finds him again, this time not settling-- an airy caress, fingers running behind his ear, through his hair. What a bloody picture he is. Her focus lingers on him far too long, smile lingering, refusing to quit.
"These are rare," she says. "You'll be a terror, with helm on."
A finer thing, to be given such a gift from someone that knows him well enough to understand what he needs— what soothes the tensity in his chest when it comes to perceptions in the broadest sense.
"I am a terror with you at my side." Far from a correction, his own expression relaxed in the rarest show of docility manageable. She combs her fingertips through his hair, and he leaves her to it, pale eyes watching her with almost unsettling clarity.
"I've gone too long alone. Forgotten too much of what I've lost."
She makes it easier, remembering what it was like.
She feels a little humbled, to receive such a confession from such a closed off man. Amazing what a good shag will do to you. (Her throat feels blocked by the weight of an inconvenient emotion. She ignores it.)
"And now you're trapped," she says, grinning. She gives his ear a light tug. "With you til the end, I am."
"Trapped is not the word I would use to describe it."
Humor pulls at the edge of his mouth. Colors the way he lets his head roll briefly with the tug of her fingertips. There's no difficulty to it, reaching across in that moment to steal one lone strip of jerky— lifting it in offering just beside Jone's cheek, ensuring she's struck by yet another puff of stale breath as jagged rows of teeth gently close around dried meat, tugging insistently until he lets go.
Jone goes very still, until the creature moves from her face. Just as promised, it doesn't bite, doesn't scratch. It's almost gentle, but she's not risking it. As soon as the teeth move away from her, she leans slightly to the side, making more room between them.
She pushes a hand out, poking him in the shoulder. "Arse. Starting to regret my anointed kindness."
She pushes at him, and he— in an uncharacteristic burst of movement— sets his own gauntleted fingertips to the back of her head, using it as leverage to (provided she opts not to fight it) draw her close to his chest. The softer hang of his cloak, rather than cold, jutting metal.
Much as he'd riled her, he wishes only to have her near.
She's stiff and still against him, but only for a moment. At some point, she's gained the ability to fold against his armor, feel soft and warm against all that cold metal. A quick movement, and she kisses him just under his ear, light and airy.
“Eternally.” He says, hand sliding higher into the tangled curtain of her hair, fingertips scrubbing against her scalp. It is a sigh of a sound, his voice.
A sincere sound.
"I am with you until the end of your years, Daughter of Denerim."
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Her hand finds him again, this time not settling-- an airy caress, fingers running behind his ear, through his hair. What a bloody picture he is. Her focus lingers on him far too long, smile lingering, refusing to quit.
"These are rare," she says. "You'll be a terror, with helm on."
no subject
"I am a terror with you at my side." Far from a correction, his own expression relaxed in the rarest show of docility manageable. She combs her fingertips through his hair, and he leaves her to it, pale eyes watching her with almost unsettling clarity.
"I've gone too long alone. Forgotten too much of what I've lost."
She makes it easier, remembering what it was like.
no subject
"And now you're trapped," she says, grinning. She gives his ear a light tug. "With you til the end, I am."
no subject
Humor pulls at the edge of his mouth. Colors the way he lets his head roll briefly with the tug of her fingertips. There's no difficulty to it, reaching across in that moment to steal one lone strip of jerky— lifting it in offering just beside Jone's cheek, ensuring she's struck by yet another puff of stale breath as jagged rows of teeth gently close around dried meat, tugging insistently until he lets go.
no subject
She pushes a hand out, poking him in the shoulder. "Arse. Starting to regret my anointed kindness."
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Much as he'd riled her, he wishes only to have her near.
"And here I've been grateful for it."
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"How grateful?"
no subject
A sincere sound.
"I am with you until the end of your years, Daughter of Denerim."