let your instincts break the rules

[wildness]

[It is an excellent thing, sometimes, that their group is always so busy. When night falls and they have struck their tents, too many of them are exhausted enough to tarry long around the fire. There is the occasional night when Leliana strikes up a story or one of the others insists on discussion, the Warden often chiming in to discuss strategies, their path, and the morning's journey. Morrigan most often keeps to herself at her end of camp, making what she wills and reading from the tomes they often pick up on their journey.

Tonight is no different: most of the others retire to their tents early - all save Sten - and she offers to take first watch. The Qunari is more than willing to give her a wide berth and so she is granted more privacy than she needs, lucky her. There is enough for her to dwell on in the wake of the possession of the Arl's son, the battle at Redcliffe, and their early morning's march that will take them to their next destination.

The castle had been quaint and full of memories of Alistair, many of which he provided for them. In the wake of such horrors, she supposes he cannot be blamed for withdrawing. It does not give her much reason to continue to contemplate the situation nor on him. It is a weakness, she tells herself, because these are not feelings. There is a purpose to all of this. One day, she will have to implore the Warden to make a choice and Alistair will be part of it. He is a piece of the whole - a small piece, she reminds herself - and that is it.

It is a shame. For all that he infuriates her, he has his good qualities. It's that mouth she hates most of all. With a sigh, she goes back to her book, stoking the fire at her side the wave of a hand.]

Comments

[wildness]

[The hand at her hip is a start. He is more easily swayed than she thought. Perhaps this is not a joke after all. Morrigan knows better than to let her guard down so easily, especially around someone with Alistair's particular training, but she lets him close, lets him take his time in exploring what feels just right and what he's comfortable with.

The kiss is surprisingly tender for the moment, sweet, as it would be with him. She wraps one arm around his shoulders to cement the contact, moving her mouth so she can fix around his lower lip and tug gently.]

[woahwoahawkward]

[He'd have a hard time getting into his Templar mindset in his current situation. It's easy for him to fall into the kiss and try to concentrate a little -- his shoulders do finally relax, though, and he's a tiny bit less jumpy.

His other hand threads into her hair, drawing her closer against him.]

[wildness]

[Morrigan makes a sound, unbidden, against his lips once they are flush. He is warm in the cool night air, as inviting as she was before, and she is loathe to even contemplate the idea of sending him away now. She nips at his lower lip, careful and surprisingly gentle - she doesn't want to startle him - for the moment.

The hand at his chest snakes down to his hip and pushes up beneath his tunic, finding the strong and defined muscles of his stomach which she can admire through touch instead of sight.]

[woahwoahawkward]

[Oh, she's touching his stomach and -- he takes a breath in, forcing himself to speak even though he doesn't like the idea of pulling his lips away from hers right now.]

Perhaps ... somewhere more private?

[At least now his mind is distracted by what Morrigan's little hut might have inside of it. Hopefully not any shrunken heads or anything like that.]

[wildness]

[She hums thoughtfully as he pulls away, as though having to contemplate whether she wants to entertain his request. At length, she gives him a flicker of a smile, wry.]

A sound idea. Come.

[Stepping away, she moves back to her little hut and pushes aside one of the red drapes that serve for a cover. The inside of her 'tent' is not so large as it appears from the outside, but roomy. There's a bedroll in the corner and two books to the side, obviously more reading material. Her pack is also there but little else. Her potions and herbs are inside, tucked away.]

It is not so big, I'm afraid, but I don't expect company.

[woahwoahawkward]

[Alistair has to bite his lip to keep from making a smart comment about her not needing much room to lure someone to their death -- that doesn't seem like the best plan right now.

He is worried for a moment that she's changed her mind, and so when she invites him inside he goes just a little hastily.]

It's cleaner than mine.

[wildness]

[Truth be told, she's surprised he hasn't protested against using his tent...and yet, thinking on it, she's grateful they're in hers. She shoots him a look from over her shoulder, one that's more amused than anything else.]

And somehow that does not surprise me. You often complain of losing your socks.

[Morrigan takes a few moments to survey her living arrangements to best decide where they would be more comfortable. She goes to her pack and pulls out a cloak she has packed away and spreads it down beside the bedroll and furs beside it, hoping to at least give the semblance of something usable, if only to let him be at ease. She goes to sit and beckons him down with a hand.]

[woahwoahawkward]

[While he might pretend to be more comfortable in his own tent, the fact is that it really is sort of messy and he'd probably be more worried about accidentally stepping on some sort of rabid animal concealed under a smallcloth.

He gives her a sort of lopsided smile and dropped down next to her.]

And here I was expecting you to want to bind me up by now.

[Or bind his mouth shut, at least. That might still have to happen.]

[wildness]

Well, if that's what you'd like...

[But that might frighten him a bit too much. Gagging, of course, is still an option. Morrigan smirks in his direction and takes him by the chin for another brief kiss.]

But you can divulge your fantasies to me later, hm?