The Champion listened, noting immediately the change in her companion’s tone. It normally didn’t take much to bother the strong woman before her, but this seemed… Different. It sounded to Hawke as though the woman before her had all the weight of the world upon her shoulders, something Marian was all too familiar with.
“Of course I will,” she sighs, offering a small smile as her clawed gauntlet reaches out to clasp Aveline gently upon her shoulder.
“Its funny… I really shouldn’t forget, but you have just as much to deal with as I do, if not more. Only… You never get the recognition, or the rest, that you deserve. Come with with me and then grab a pint or two afterward! We can even avoid the Hanged Man if you like.”
Marian might not be the best at comforting, but she knew that the Captain would appreciate the stress relief provided by bashing in a head or two. When it got to that point, of course. She still needed to see if Varric had a tip or two up his sleeve and see if Isabela might have an idea as to where they could start looking first.
Actually…. Avoid Isabela. At least if there was to be any hope that Hawke would accomplish a lick of work.
It was true – the normally proud and self-reliant guard captain had fallen short as of late, the weight of the world pressing down between her already sore shoulders. It wasn’t that she minded the responsibility; she much preferred knowing that someone capable was in charge of handling the city’s crime and dealing with it as necessary.
Still… a reprieve, if only for one night, seemed appropriate. It was a quiet night, thankfully, so she wouldn’t feel too guilty for taking a few of her off hours to join her friend in a bit of merriment.
”… I suppose that’d be alright. However, if you start making a spectacle of yourself again, I’ll be forced to haul you out. Watch yourself.“
Her words came as a warning, but the faint hint of a smile on her lips was unmistakable.
Oh, she feels it. There’s heat everywhere. It settles low in her gut. Her skin hums with it. That beautiful hunger that rises before a fight, or before sex.
“Oh?” She drawls, her free hand rising to rest upon Aveline’s breast plate. ”I do love a challenge.” That stated, she presses their mouths together before Aveline can speak.
It’s chaste and light, Isabela drawing back a mere second later to taste her own lips with her tongue.
“Oh look,” She taunts. “I still have my hands.”
For once, there’s no angry remark to spew from her lips, no retaliation or brute force to push the other woman away. Barely-contained rage simmers beneath the surface, her eyes wide with disbelief and awe. Isabela was certainly cheeky; Aveline would give her that much, but– No! How dare she cross such a thinly-treaded line, especially in public… or as public as her office could be.
As much as she wants to speak, she can’t. There are simply no words, no smart quips to throw back.
“… It would appear so,” she finally choked out, her voice rather strained.
The warrior takes the bait and Isabela’s eyes narrow. Victory. She has the woman’s nerves at the very tips of her fingers and, oh, is she quite talented at plucking them towards an edge. Unafraid of the fire emanating from the taller woman, the pirate queen slips close and reaches out to play long fingers against one of the many clasps piecing together Aveline’s armor. She grips hard and pulls until they’re face to face. Her breath blooms over pale skin, as her tone turns sharp.
“Do not underestimate me,” She locks their gazes. “I have taken on bigger than you and come out on top.” She pauses for effect.. “In more ways than one…”
Aveline can’t help but let out a sharp, sudden gasp as Isabela gives a sharp yank on her armor, forcing the guard to take a step forward to avoid losing her balance. By this point, she’s practically seething, a deep red shade accentuating the array of freckles lining her face. Heat radiates from her cheeks, and at this distance, she’d be amazed if Isabela didn’t feel it as well.
“Take your hand off of me,” she commanded slowly, though there’s a distinct tremor in her voice. “Or lose it."
She clasps her hands behind her back and bends forth to observe her latest victim. The pink splotches speak volumes. A thin, dark eyebrow hitches a fraction, before Isabela lets her voice dip low. It slithers through the air between them.
“My, my.” She purrs, like a lioness; all heat and spice. “Have I touched upon a raw nerve?” Her mouth curves into an infuriating smirk. “I’m sure this is the most that you have been touched in aeons.”
Bright green eyes, practically ablaze with anger, stare back at the dark-haired woman. She bristles once Isabela leans in, but dares not pull away – the first sign of weakness would be admitting defeat.
“If you know what’s good for you –and considering your track record, I have my doubts–” she hisses, teeth clenched. “You’ll keep your distance."
She’s neither confirming nor denying Isabela’s claim.
Isabela feigns a smile of innocence but graces the larger woman with a hooded, knowing once over.
“Do you quiver at the thought of being manhandled, my dear Lady Man Hands?”
The way her lips part into an indignant sneer makes it clear that she’s not amused. However, the faint pink blotches forming on either cheek betray her – clearly, Isabela’s words have hit some kind of mark.
"I only quiver at the thought of throttling you for your insolence. Do you ever allow yourself to think outside the realm of your sexual deviance, or is that simply too much to ask?“
