He wants to go into attack mode very much. To snipe and scream- to rail against her- take out all his anger towards mages on her, on this conversation. He needs a release from all his recent troubles, from what Hadriana has said, of knowledge of things beyond his control.
He wants to remember his fucking sister. But he can't he keeps trying and there's nothing there. A blank face, no voice, a whisper, a caress of a memory and then it's gone. And magic made it that way. He's angry, he needs a punching bag and here she is.
But then she says that- those last few words knock the wind right out of him. He stands still, opening and closing his mouth, trying to find the traction he'd just lost. He hates magic, he hates most mages...but not her.
"I-" he wants to remain angry, he wants to get it all out before it continues to consume him, but he falters. "...I it was never my intention to aim it at you."
It's funny how it works. As his anger falters and stutters, replaced by a contrite sincerity, Hawke in turn feels some of hers simmer down. It's not gone, oh no, but it doesn't burn quite as bright. The flame's gone down a notch, but it could easily burst forth anew.
"It might not have been your intention, but that's what you've been doing." Or it feels like it sometimes, anyway. Relm runs a hand through her hair, disheveling it even more. These sorts of conversations are foreign to her, ones where she reveals what she's feeling and exposing her hurts. Ever since her father died, she'd been burdened with taking care of the family, and Maker forbid she show any pain, exhaustion, or anger. Oh no. That's not what she does. That's not what a Hawke does. And there's the instinct to turn this around and try and brush off everything but... they're a little too far into this for now.
"In all your anger, when you say those things about mages, did it really never occur to you how I might take it? Me, a mage? Do you think I like hearing that I deserve to rot? That - that I'm lumped in with the people who hurt you? I know you're venting your and I get it. I'm glad you trust me enough to do it. I just - even us filthy mages have feelings, despite popular opinion."
He folds his arms as she speaks, gaze downward. He listens to what she has to say, remains silent throughout it, and for some time after, too. He tries to choose his words carefully, lest he inadvertently throw tinder onto the fire.
He surprises himself that he doesn't want her to be hurt. That he doesn't want to see her wounded by his usually oh so barbed words. Despite everything, despite her being a mage...he's starting to see her differently. It's something he feels he should probably be concerned with. Weakness.
"...No. I didn't take your feelings into account. For that I apologise, I just-" he hesitates, turns his gaze to the ceiling. "It's difficult. Far too many mages are not safe. You're the first one I have met to give me reason to think otherwise."
His answer hardly surprises her, but it stings all the same. Relm looks down at the floor, trying to hide her hurt. It's not easy hearing that someone didn't bother to take your feelings into account, no matter how justified it may or may not be. Especially when she worked so hard to consider his.
But hey, at least he apologized for it, and that's all she can ask for at this point. Hawke nods, finally daring to look up at him. "Some are bad. I'll be the first to admit it, Fenris. And they should be dealt with accordingly, just like the bad non-mages out there." Hell she's killed a number of them already. And if she weren't so mad and hurt and if it was anyone other than Fenris, she'd make a joke about him needing to meet more mages, but... yeah. She's not that stupid, thanks. "I wish you could have met my father, and Bethany. They were good, even better than me." But she's the sad, sole representative mage of the Hawke family now, for better or worse. "Look, I'm not asking you to shower mages with compliments or anything. I just... I don't know. Maybe remember I'm one too? I try not to be too mage-y or anything but I'm one of them, whether I like it or not."
The look that crosses her face causes a sharp pain in his chest. He hurt her, this he can see. He never thought he'd feel guilty for his views on mages, but here he was. Perhaps he would have liked her father, her sister. Perhaps if things had been different...
"Tevinter was full of the bad kind. The good sort tend not to survive there, for very long. Corruption and the power structure there all but encourages them to blood magic and depravity. I...am not used to thinking of mages in any sort of positive light."
Only with fear. Waiting for the next horror they'd put on some slave, to sit back on their chairs and laugh. Like suffering was a form of entertainment to them. It still made his skin crawl, years after escaping that hell. He folds his arms, shifting uncomfortably. He could lie to her, brush her off, but Fenris is always brutally honest.
"I...cannot promise I will be able to take my guard down around them, perhaps I never will," he doesn't trust them, he can't trust them but, but - "...I will try and remember your feelings in the future. I- I do not trust them, but I trust you."
'But I trust you.' The words are a balm, and enough that a small smile appears. Maybe she knew deep down that he did - after all, he still follows her around and vents to her about things, that should be proof enough - but it's another thing entirely to actually hear him say it. More, it extinguishes a lot of her anger. She's still not exactly thrilled, but progress has been made.
"I don't expect you to let your guard down around them. Honestly, even I don't, though that's more around pretty much everyone rather than mages specifically." When you gain as much notoriety as she has, you can't be too careful. "But... thank you. And I don't expect you to be perfect about it right away, you know. All I ask is that you try."
Suddenly she laughs, rubbing the back of her head. "Well, shit. I came here, ready to have a knockdown, drag-out fight, and we went and worked it out like rational adults. How did that happen?" And now she has all this pent up energy that she has nowhere to go with. Maybe she can take it out on some stupid gang on the streets...
He doesn't know how well he'll do. Hell, if it had been anyone else asking for his help, he would have turned them away with snide, sharp, spiteful words. He wouldn't have even entertained the idea of following through on such a request.
But she's different. She makes him want to try to be a better person. To try and deal with his past hurts and grow from them. To get better. A chuckle rumbles out of him.
"I honestly don't know. If you wish to fight, we can pretend we weren't reasonable adults and break some of the furniture in the West Wing. I need to clear it all out anyway."
And that's all she can ask. This might not be the last time they'll have this conversation, but it's a start. Communication! Honesty! Progress! Look at them go, being emotionally mature adults.
...it's kind of terrifying, really.
Her smiles brightens at his chuckle. She loves it when he laughs. And it helps dissipate the tension that's been hanging in the air. Entirely her fault, of course, but the not-really-argument needed to happen.
"It certainly would make for a more entertaining story. 'Hawke and Fenris got into a row and broke all the furniture in the West Wing' sounds more fun - and a bit likelier - than 'Hawke and Fenris kind of fought but they calmed down and talked it out all very reasonably.' Poor Varric would be crushed if that's all we gave him."
"Narratively, it really would sound better, and I certainly wouldn't want to break poor Varric's heart. "
It's nice...to be able to joke around her. To let down his walls, even a little. He meant what he said, that he trusted her. That he was happy with her seeing this side of him.
"He'd probably find a way to make even the furniture breaking more interesting that it would be."
"Give him a few days and some whisky and he'll spin it all wildly out of proportion to entertaining effect." Which is what Varric does best, aside from shooting people and wooing women (and some men) with his chest hair. "You know he would find a way to make it captivating. Well, ten to one somehow bandits would break in or something equally dramatic."
He's getting more relaxed around her, bit by bit. This hasn't been the easiest friendship to build and maintain, but it's been worth every minute, even with all the disagreements and insults. And honestly, she's glad she's not so angry anymore. It still stings a bit, but she's glad they worked it out, at least for now. She likes - no, loves spending time with him in any capacity. Sure, everyone's at the Hanged Man and having a good time, she's sure. But being here, with him? Talking and... probably about to break furniture? This is better.
"It'll be an interesting way to finish the night." Relm tucks some hair behind her ear, giving him a coy little smile. "You sure do know how to show a girl a good time, Fen."
...aaaaaaaaaaaaaand of course she had to throw in that stupid flirt. Maker she's going to just. Toss herself out a window now.
"Oh yes. And he'll probably throw a dragon in there, somehow. It wouldn't be Varric if it wasn't utterly ridiculous and questionably real."
And yet people did believe him. The dwarf had a kind of magic over people that was all his own. He could convince the Maker Himself that the sky was painted polka dots if he really wanted to.
Fenris wasn't expecting the none-too-subtle flirt. A blush flashes across his cheeks as he dips his head, clearing his throat awkwardly. He's...really not very good at this sort of thing.
"Oh. Well. I'm sure I could be better at it with practise."
What the hell was that? He groans inwardly, wow. That was awful.
"A dragon would make it really fun, it's true. But I think he'd also then have to explain how your mansion somehow didn't get destroyed in the process." Though Varric might just skim on those details. He tended to do that with those pesky little things that tripped up his tales.
It takes a gargantuan effort of restraint to not burst out laughing at his, uh, comeback. Oh, Fenris. She adores your attempt at it. (And it kind of makes her feel less ridiculous at her own poor try.) But it gives her room to work, if nothing else. "Oh, so it's practice you need?" Her grins widens. "Feel free to practice away on me. I'm a very willing volunteer."
...boy that kind of came out with a bit of innuendo she hadn't considered until she already said it. Uh, whoops?
"He'd figure a way around it. Probably something to do with a band of helpful carpenters or somesuch."
Varric could handwave like a king. Oh, but that definitely came out more of an innuendo than Fenris was expecting and a nervous laugh bubbles out of him, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.
"Oh, well. I will...bear that in mind," a pause. "I would never turn down a chance like that."
Oh, this is fun. Very, very fun. Fenris, outside of bouts of anger, so rarely loses his composure. Seeing him blush and stumble is adorable. It's weird to realize that not even a half hour ago, she was raring to go to pick a fight and get into a hands down, drag out argument with him. And now here they stand, flirting (terribly) and gently pushing some boundaries on their relationship. For all that it's unexpected, she's more than a little pleased to see him flirting back. As... horrible as their attempts are.
"Wouldn't you now?" And because Hawke's mildly evil, she begins to circle Fenris a bit, grin ever present. "Would you like an opportunity now? The night's young, and I'm willing if you are."
Letting his guard down, allowing some of the feelings for her that had been quietly stewing for the last few months bubble to the surface was equally exhilarating and terrifying. He turns, watching her circle him, realising he's probably got himself into Something here, but not really wanting to escape it at the same time. It was better than screaming at each other.
"I would be lying if I said I wasn't," oh sweet Maker he really should stop while he's ahead, but he knows he won't. "So I don't see any harm in it."
Relm knows she's toeing a delicate line here. She hates to push him much in anything - thus why the earlier confrontation took so long to build up to - but this delights her a great deal, and she's relishing the attention. And there's.... something. A spark between them, strong enough that she can all but taste it. Maybe her feelings aren't as one-sided as she thought. Sure, Fenris puts up and occasionally returns Isabela's flirting, but not like this. This is different.
"No, no harm at all." Relm trails a finger across part of his gauntlet: a teasing touch that doesn't actually touch his skin. Safe enough, she hopes. "Quite the opposite. You know me, I'm always down for anything. Especially if it helps vent some pent up energy." She's fully circled him by this point, and stops in front of him, her grin turning into a coy smile. "And we've both got that in spades, don't we?"
It's very much different between him and Isabela. Flirting with her is just par for the course- often a means to get her to give up and go away. Isabela is much more likely to get bored and leave if she doesn't think she has a chase in it. No, this is different, he finds he means it.
The touch is, indeed, safe enough. Though normally an action which would make him tense and shy away, he surprises himself by craving more of it. He offers a crooked smile as she comes back round to face him.
"Given we very almost had quite a violent fight I would say currently we do, yes," his hand moves forward, only slightly, his fingers brushing over her wrist- a show that he didn't mind her touch, welcomed more. "It would be a shame for it to all go to waste."
And there's that smile she adores so much, the one that makes her weak in the knees. All it takes is that, a twist of his lips and the brush of his fingers against her skin to completely disarm her. For all that Relm likes to tease and flirt and push things a little, it actually doesn't take very much to trip her up. With most she can hide it but with Fenris, it's impossible. Almost shyly, she ducks her head a bit and smiles. Maker help her.
"A great shame, yes." She gently traces a part of his chest piece with her finger, still pushing that boundary a bit more while still being cognizant of his markings. "So, how should we let out all that would-have-been-a-fight energy? Furniture breaking, like you suggested? Or did you want to... practice on something else?"
There's a clear out she's offering here. For all her flirting and whatnot, Fenris gets to decide where things go. If he wants to stop now and go back to friendly bantering while they wreck furniture, then that's his choice. She's leaving it up to him.
She steps closer and his breath catches. He doesn't pull away, though, not even as she pushes those boundaries. He doesn't want to step away. A small, spiteful part of his mind whispers that this is a terrible idea. That this is something they'll both no doubt end up regretting- but he silences it. Consequences...well, he'll deal with them when the time comes. Or he won't.
He sees the out for what it is, but he doesn't take it. Instead, his hands moves to where hers lingers on his chest, taking it. His smiles softens, just a touch.
"Oh. I think we could practise something else entirely," there's not a flicker of hesitation as he leans in, pressing his lips against hers.
It's been so long since she felt like this. Most days, she feels older than she is. Aged and bending over all the responsibility and hardship she's endured. But right now, she feels young and almost silly. Just a girl standing in front of the boy she likes hoping he'll return her feelings and give her a kiss. Simpler feelings hearkening back to simpler times. All her worries and frustrations aren't gone, but rather left at the door, and she's all too happy to just get lost in the present and see where this leads.
She shudders out a breath when he takes her hand in his. His hand's warm over hers, and she so wants to twine her fingers in his. But before she can even consider it further, she looks up just in time to see him lean in and kiss her. She sighs into the kiss, exhaling relief and joy as she leans closer to him, kissing him eagerly in return. She's sure her heart's going to burst, but that's all right. There are worse ways to go.
After a long, wonderful moment, she pulls back just a bit to catch her breath. And she's smiling like a loon. Her free hand reaches up and tenderly brushes some of the hair from his face. "I was really hoping you'd do that," she murmurs.
His heart beats a tattoo in his chest as his brain catches up with the rest of him of what he actually just did. He finds he genuinely wants it, all of this. Relm...well she irritates the holy hell out of him a lot of the time, but she's also the reason he's still here. Still free. One of Danarius' traps would have undoubtedly caught him out by now, were it not for her.
More than that, she's a friend- someone he trusts, someone...well, someone he certainly thinks of as more than a friend. His life is far, far richer with her in it. He smiles, soft and genuine at the touch as she pulls back.
"I...admit I have wished to do that for a while."
It just took him time to find the courage to do so.
"And I've been wishing for it to happen for quite awhile." Hawke doesn't normally just sit around and wait for something like that, but with Fenris she erred on the side of caution. Besides, he's had enough forced on him for a lifetime. He deserves to be able to take the reins for a change. "Punch you? Never. Especially not with how thick I was laying on the flirting." It would take something significantly worse than an unwanted kiss for her to punch him. Like... eating babies or killing small puppies or something.
Touching him is always a delicate balance. Most of it so far has been with his armor acting as a barrier, and even then that wasn't always enough. She remembers the way he shoved her hand off after they fought Hadriana. Sure, he'd been angry, but all the same, she's never sure how receptive he is to it. And this is a line she toes much more carefully than others with him. Which is why her hand moves so tentatively to cup his cheek, braced to pull back in a second if need be. "May I kiss you again? Practice makes perfect and all."
"Really? I genuinely had no idea," he chuckles, awkwardly. "I...hadn't really realised that's what you were doing at first, to be honest."
He wasn't very good at interpersonal anything, so he definitely didn't pick up what she was putting down. But at least he wasn't into eating babies or killing small puppies. He still had that much going for him.
He appreciates the care she takes in touching him- or not touching him, as the case may be. Though he tenses, just for a moment, as her fingers brush his cheek- he leans into the touch, a faint smile crossing his lips.
"Well. I wouldn't want us to fall out of practise."
"Apparently I wasn't as obvious as I thought." Varric teased her about it often enough, as had Isabela. Perhaps she'd been so focused on everyone else being aware of it that she hadn't stopped to consider if Fenris had been aware of it. Her own nerves over the whole thing hardly helped, either.
Hindsight is 20/20, and now she knows better.
All the tension escapes in a soft sigh as he leans into it. She'd been ready to pull back in a moment, but he leans into it and she's glad. It shows in her smile. "No, that wouldn't do, now would it?"
With all the gentleness and affection she's capable of, she leans up and softly kisses him. He's warm, and she can taste a hint of wine on his lips (it certainly beats the ale that she was drinking earlier). It's still a little cautious, not advancing things further than they already had gone, but it's more than enough for her.
"Honestly, I don't tend to...notice that sort of thing, so it's not completely on you."
He leans into the kiss, then after a moment's hesitation, parts his lips, deepening it. HIs hands move to the small of her back, pulling her closer. He's not powerful, not demanding, but he is asking for more. He's not afraid, not of her. Never of her.
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He wants to remember his fucking sister. But he can't he keeps trying and there's nothing there. A blank face, no voice, a whisper, a caress of a memory and then it's gone. And magic made it that way. He's angry, he needs a punching bag and here she is.
But then she says that- those last few words knock the wind right out of him. He stands still, opening and closing his mouth, trying to find the traction he'd just lost. He hates magic, he hates most mages...but not her.
"I-" he wants to remain angry, he wants to get it all out before it continues to consume him, but he falters. "...I it was never my intention to aim it at you."
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"It might not have been your intention, but that's what you've been doing." Or it feels like it sometimes, anyway. Relm runs a hand through her hair, disheveling it even more. These sorts of conversations are foreign to her, ones where she reveals what she's feeling and exposing her hurts. Ever since her father died, she'd been burdened with taking care of the family, and Maker forbid she show any pain, exhaustion, or anger. Oh no. That's not what she does. That's not what a Hawke does. And there's the instinct to turn this around and try and brush off everything but... they're a little too far into this for now.
"In all your anger, when you say those things about mages, did it really never occur to you how I might take it? Me, a mage? Do you think I like hearing that I deserve to rot? That - that I'm lumped in with the people who hurt you? I know you're venting your and I get it. I'm glad you trust me enough to do it. I just - even us filthy mages have feelings, despite popular opinion."
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He surprises himself that he doesn't want her to be hurt. That he doesn't want to see her wounded by his usually oh so barbed words. Despite everything, despite her being a mage...he's starting to see her differently. It's something he feels he should probably be concerned with. Weakness.
"...No. I didn't take your feelings into account. For that I apologise, I just-" he hesitates, turns his gaze to the ceiling. "It's difficult. Far too many mages are not safe. You're the first one I have met to give me reason to think otherwise."
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But hey, at least he apologized for it, and that's all she can ask for at this point. Hawke nods, finally daring to look up at him. "Some are bad. I'll be the first to admit it, Fenris. And they should be dealt with accordingly, just like the bad non-mages out there." Hell she's killed a number of them already. And if she weren't so mad and hurt and if it was anyone other than Fenris, she'd make a joke about him needing to meet more mages, but... yeah. She's not that stupid, thanks. "I wish you could have met my father, and Bethany. They were good, even better than me." But she's the sad, sole representative mage of the Hawke family now, for better or worse. "Look, I'm not asking you to shower mages with compliments or anything. I just... I don't know. Maybe remember I'm one too? I try not to be too mage-y or anything but I'm one of them, whether I like it or not."
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"Tevinter was full of the bad kind. The good sort tend not to survive there, for very long. Corruption and the power structure there all but encourages them to blood magic and depravity. I...am not used to thinking of mages in any sort of positive light."
Only with fear. Waiting for the next horror they'd put on some slave, to sit back on their chairs and laugh. Like suffering was a form of entertainment to them. It still made his skin crawl, years after escaping that hell. He folds his arms, shifting uncomfortably. He could lie to her, brush her off, but Fenris is always brutally honest.
"I...cannot promise I will be able to take my guard down around them, perhaps I never will," he doesn't trust them, he can't trust them but, but - "...I will try and remember your feelings in the future. I- I do not trust them, but I trust you."
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"I don't expect you to let your guard down around them. Honestly, even I don't, though that's more around pretty much everyone rather than mages specifically." When you gain as much notoriety as she has, you can't be too careful. "But... thank you. And I don't expect you to be perfect about it right away, you know. All I ask is that you try."
Suddenly she laughs, rubbing the back of her head. "Well, shit. I came here, ready to have a knockdown, drag-out fight, and we went and worked it out like rational adults. How did that happen?" And now she has all this pent up energy that she has nowhere to go with. Maybe she can take it out on some stupid gang on the streets...
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He doesn't know how well he'll do. Hell, if it had been anyone else asking for his help, he would have turned them away with snide, sharp, spiteful words. He wouldn't have even entertained the idea of following through on such a request.
But she's different. She makes him want to try to be a better person. To try and deal with his past hurts and grow from them. To get better. A chuckle rumbles out of him.
"I honestly don't know. If you wish to fight, we can pretend we weren't reasonable adults and break some of the furniture in the West Wing. I need to clear it all out anyway."
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...it's kind of terrifying, really.
Her smiles brightens at his chuckle. She loves it when he laughs. And it helps dissipate the tension that's been hanging in the air. Entirely her fault, of course, but the not-really-argument needed to happen.
"It certainly would make for a more entertaining story. 'Hawke and Fenris got into a row and broke all the furniture in the West Wing' sounds more fun - and a bit likelier - than 'Hawke and Fenris kind of fought but they calmed down and talked it out all very reasonably.' Poor Varric would be crushed if that's all we gave him."
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"Narratively, it really would sound better, and I certainly wouldn't want to break poor Varric's heart. "
It's nice...to be able to joke around her. To let down his walls, even a little. He meant what he said, that he trusted her. That he was happy with her seeing this side of him.
"He'd probably find a way to make even the furniture breaking more interesting that it would be."
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He's getting more relaxed around her, bit by bit. This hasn't been the easiest friendship to build and maintain, but it's been worth every minute, even with all the disagreements and insults. And honestly, she's glad she's not so angry anymore. It still stings a bit, but she's glad they worked it out, at least for now. She likes - no, loves spending time with him in any capacity. Sure, everyone's at the Hanged Man and having a good time, she's sure. But being here, with him? Talking and... probably about to break furniture? This is better.
"It'll be an interesting way to finish the night." Relm tucks some hair behind her ear, giving him a coy little smile. "You sure do know how to show a girl a good time, Fen."
...aaaaaaaaaaaaaand of course she had to throw in that stupid flirt. Maker she's going to just. Toss herself out a window now.
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And yet people did believe him. The dwarf had a kind of magic over people that was all his own. He could convince the Maker Himself that the sky was painted polka dots if he really wanted to.
Fenris wasn't expecting the none-too-subtle flirt. A blush flashes across his cheeks as he dips his head, clearing his throat awkwardly. He's...really not very good at this sort of thing.
"Oh. Well. I'm sure I could be better at it with practise."
What the hell was that? He groans inwardly, wow. That was awful.
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It takes a gargantuan effort of restraint to not burst out laughing at his, uh, comeback. Oh, Fenris. She adores your attempt at it. (And it kind of makes her feel less ridiculous at her own poor try.) But it gives her room to work, if nothing else. "Oh, so it's practice you need?" Her grins widens. "Feel free to practice away on me. I'm a very willing volunteer."
...boy that kind of came out with a bit of innuendo she hadn't considered until she already said it. Uh, whoops?
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Varric could handwave like a king. Oh, but that definitely came out more of an innuendo than Fenris was expecting and a nervous laugh bubbles out of him, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.
"Oh, well. I will...bear that in mind," a pause. "I would never turn down a chance like that."
Oh sweet Maker what is he even saying.
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"Wouldn't you now?" And because Hawke's mildly evil, she begins to circle Fenris a bit, grin ever present. "Would you like an opportunity now? The night's young, and I'm willing if you are."
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"I would be lying if I said I wasn't," oh sweet Maker he really should stop while he's ahead, but he knows he won't. "So I don't see any harm in it."
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"No, no harm at all." Relm trails a finger across part of his gauntlet: a teasing touch that doesn't actually touch his skin. Safe enough, she hopes. "Quite the opposite. You know me, I'm always down for anything. Especially if it helps vent some pent up energy." She's fully circled him by this point, and stops in front of him, her grin turning into a coy smile. "And we've both got that in spades, don't we?"
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The touch is, indeed, safe enough. Though normally an action which would make him tense and shy away, he surprises himself by craving more of it. He offers a crooked smile as she comes back round to face him.
"Given we very almost had quite a violent fight I would say currently we do, yes," his hand moves forward, only slightly, his fingers brushing over her wrist- a show that he didn't mind her touch, welcomed more. "It would be a shame for it to all go to waste."
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"A great shame, yes." She gently traces a part of his chest piece with her finger, still pushing that boundary a bit more while still being cognizant of his markings. "So, how should we let out all that would-have-been-a-fight energy? Furniture breaking, like you suggested? Or did you want to... practice on something else?"
There's a clear out she's offering here. For all her flirting and whatnot, Fenris gets to decide where things go. If he wants to stop now and go back to friendly bantering while they wreck furniture, then that's his choice. She's leaving it up to him.
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He sees the out for what it is, but he doesn't take it. Instead, his hands moves to where hers lingers on his chest, taking it. His smiles softens, just a touch.
"Oh. I think we could practise something else entirely," there's not a flicker of hesitation as he leans in, pressing his lips against hers.
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She shudders out a breath when he takes her hand in his. His hand's warm over hers, and she so wants to twine her fingers in his. But before she can even consider it further, she looks up just in time to see him lean in and kiss her. She sighs into the kiss, exhaling relief and joy as she leans closer to him, kissing him eagerly in return. She's sure her heart's going to burst, but that's all right. There are worse ways to go.
After a long, wonderful moment, she pulls back just a bit to catch her breath. And she's smiling like a loon. Her free hand reaches up and tenderly brushes some of the hair from his face. "I was really hoping you'd do that," she murmurs.
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More than that, she's a friend- someone he trusts, someone...well, someone he certainly thinks of as more than a friend. His life is far, far richer with her in it. He smiles, soft and genuine at the touch as she pulls back.
"I...admit I have wished to do that for a while."
It just took him time to find the courage to do so.
"I'm glad you didn't punch me for it."
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Touching him is always a delicate balance. Most of it so far has been with his armor acting as a barrier, and even then that wasn't always enough. She remembers the way he shoved her hand off after they fought Hadriana. Sure, he'd been angry, but all the same, she's never sure how receptive he is to it. And this is a line she toes much more carefully than others with him. Which is why her hand moves so tentatively to cup his cheek, braced to pull back in a second if need be. "May I kiss you again? Practice makes perfect and all."
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He wasn't very good at interpersonal anything, so he definitely didn't pick up what she was putting down. But at least he wasn't into eating babies or killing small puppies. He still had that much going for him.
He appreciates the care she takes in touching him- or not touching him, as the case may be. Though he tenses, just for a moment, as her fingers brush his cheek- he leans into the touch, a faint smile crossing his lips.
"Well. I wouldn't want us to fall out of practise."
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Hindsight is 20/20, and now she knows better.
All the tension escapes in a soft sigh as he leans into it. She'd been ready to pull back in a moment, but he leans into it and she's glad. It shows in her smile. "No, that wouldn't do, now would it?"
With all the gentleness and affection she's capable of, she leans up and softly kisses him. He's warm, and she can taste a hint of wine on his lips (it certainly beats the ale that she was drinking earlier). It's still a little cautious, not advancing things further than they already had gone, but it's more than enough for her.
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He leans into the kiss, then after a moment's hesitation, parts his lips, deepening it. HIs hands move to the small of her back, pulling her closer. He's not powerful, not demanding, but he is asking for more. He's not afraid, not of her. Never of her.
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so late wow
shhhh you're fiiiine
<3
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