"Fuck in the bathroom?"
"I wash you"
"… You don’t need to get my permission. You bought me. "
"Nothing has changed your room · · · · after I went out"
"Yeah ….. I’ll wash hair…. close your eyes"
"You will get wet"
"It’s alright. No problem"
babbled about rock formations, medical supplies, how her mother always said she had her fathers eyes, about templars, about mages, about how she didn’t quite know how she ended up in kirkwall but it was safe to say she was glad all the same.
scratch the last one, she couldn’t admit that in front of him.
she’d trail off her sentences when her eyes met his, marvelling at how they glistened in the low level light.
romanticising again, joan? you’ll never learn.
but she had to tell him how she felt. either one could find themselves at the wrong end of a blade at any given moment.
maybe if we get out of here, maybe if the moment is right, maybe i should just steady myself this second and open my mouth..
“…tell me again about your manifesto”
Fenris you have the worst tact in the world.
Before fanart, holiday cheer in the language I understand best- ridiculously photoshopped pics.
The holiday wouldn’t be complete without Anders wearing some terrible cat sweater.