and i still find pieces of you in the back of my mind

[paperwing]

WHO: Sabriel and semi-open.
WHAT: Sabriel goes about her business. Probably feelings. Probably talking.
WHEN: Latter Wintermarch, after she returns from Warden training with Felix and Kaidan.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: Catch-all, starters below for interested parties. If you'd like to do something, PM me or see this plurk right here and we can figure something out!

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[paperwing]

Sword sharpening, check. Scowling, check. Both somewhat expected and half the reason she has food in her hands; the other half is that she knows that sword sharpening and scowling are hungry work! Those motives are entirely innocent. At least he's inviting her to sit. That's a good start.

Not that she sits, because she opens her mouth to respond, and then snaps it shut again as she processes exactly what it is he said and the implications. Then opens it. (He's wrong, he has entirely the wrong idea, there is nothing going on here.) Then closes it. (Those are lies.) Then feels the rush of blood to her cheeks and looks away as she does sit, holding out the the food in his direction, still not looking.

"I wasn't here to seek one," she mumbles. "There's nothing happening between us." She sounds unconvinced, maybe disappointed. Nothing at all. Zip. Nothing but sickening smiles and nights sat together in the tavern and the fact she's gone from annoyed to lovestruck. That's a heck of a transition. Whatever, Alistair, you're not her real dad. Not that Tercial ever got the chance to side-eye her relationship choices given she'd never had one, okay.

[byblow]

"Good," Alistair says, though he's taken the plate and his mood has already improved enough that he can't sound too mean about it.

He likes Scipio, honestly, and he likes him and Rafael even more now than he did before, now that keeping them in line is technically Kaidan's job and Alistair is free to find them funny. But he likes Sabriel most. She's young and sincere and responsible and can do much better than to take up with—with literally anyone Alistair can think of right now.

He sets his sword aside properly, propped on the ground against his thigh, and pokes at the food. It takes a lot for a Warden to lose their appetite, but knowing the order is eating itself alive out West while they're helpless to stop it—it comes close, at least. He only nibbles, holding it out at his side to share.

"Are you all right?"

[paperwing]

He says good, but she still feels like she's being scolded. That, or she should leap to Scipio's defense. Sabriel debates, for a whole second almost, asking what would be needed to make him approve - is getting a blessing really so hard - But then she remembers that's a moot point, because nothing is happening obviously, so she doesn't ask.

Not that she needs that approval, but it would be gratifying to have it from those she holds in high esteem, those she respects.

Sabriel takes a chunk of the bread and begins pulling it into smaller pieces. Partly because she will never be over the Ferelden cuisine of tastelessness, and partly because it lasts longer, that way. But she notes his lack of enthusiasm, even to the cheese. That's telling enough.

But he asks her first if she's alright, which she's not entirely expecting. Aside from the blood rushing to her face and them being stuck here without any improvements or news? She's fine. "Well enough, I think. But I can't help but be worried." She hesitates, then adds, "And not always about those who aren't here."