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Our own little Awakening. // Dream&Relix

Rage could only groan when the Ogre turned his attention to the mage.

"Must .. " The male spoke, panting for breath, that short run had taken almost all his stamina. "You make .. him angered before I can get him to focus all his attention on me?" The male muttered to himself as the Ogre began to walk toward Deacon. This would be bad, she was most likely out of mana and had a two ton beast about to charge her. Oh, this spelled disaster.

Dropping to one knee, the male felt the vibration of the Ogre's footsteps.

"This can't be how everything ends .. " The male spoke to himself, panting. Using his sword to hold himself up, pressing his chest against the dull, blunt side of his greatsword. "No .. it won't end here." Rage spoke, his tone determined. Pushing himself up, his knees weak with fatigue, shaking as he continued to hold himself up against his sword. Tilting his head upwards, toward the ceiling.

Rage had let out a loud yell; a shout, a taunt, a cry. His body becoming renewed again, a smirk forming across his face as the Ogre turned back to face him. Watching it get into a three-point stance, rearing its head down to charge its horns into the male figure. Swinging his sword around, the male gripped the hilt with both hands .. the sword seeming like nothing in his hands.

"Ahh ... how it is good to get a second wind of energy."

His statement was cut short by the charging Ogre, rolling to his right to avoid being gored. Sliding to a halt from the roll, the male quickly charged at the beast. Swinging Ageless to strike at its leg tendons. Hoping to hit the hamstring, immobilizing him or causing the beast to limp around. Which ever, it would benefit the two fatigued companions greatly.


Watching the blood from the leg of the beast splatter against the wall, the pool developing on the floor quickly. Rage pulled his sword from the skull of the Ogre, a long fight that swung in balance of who could win. Often times, Rage felt that they would be defeated .. the ogre was no mere walk in the park. May have been an Alpha Ogre at that .. but, it was dead and they weren't. A battle hard fought but won.

Staggering back from the corpse, Rage could barely lift his sword. His arms ached, his abdomen cried out in pain as his wounds may have tore back open. Wincing in pain, the male mustered enough strength to swing his sword around to his back, strapping it to his tunic. Turning to face Deacon, the male shot her a quick, cocky smile before walking toward her. His hand clapped against her shoulder, "Glad you are on my team." He spoke lightly as he walked past her, Zander coming out from behind the rock with his sister.

"I do admit .. being shot with two arrows, damn near torn apart by an Ogre. He still is able to carry his sister." Zander spoke as he looked up to Deacon, Rage had long started walking without them. "Got to give him credit for his determination about Cloud. Isn't that right, dear?"

A small sigh escaped the lips of the male, the walk through the small tunnel that lead to Orzammar. His pants were soaked from the renewing blood from his wound, or possibly from a new wound from the Ogre. He didn't know, Rage just wanted to get to Orzammar .. get to a place that could shelter them for the night .. or two days worth of rest.

Feeling the girl shift against his body, Rage couldn't help but to smile. The only soft spot in his heart was for the girl, someone who was able to just make him forget about all the bad .. all the trouble he went through to find her.

"B-brother ... ?" Her shaky voice spoke against his skin, eyes opening and closing.
"Yes, it is me, Cloud. Go back to sleep, you are safe." Rage replied, his right hand moving to the back of her head, rubbing softly.
"I k-knew .. you'd come for me." She continued, fighting the sleep the called her back, "I-I love you .. brother."

Rage swallowed deeply, fighting back a few tears that welled up in his eyes. "I love you, too, Cloud."

Hearing the footsteps creep up behind him. "Hey! Rage! Wait up!" Zander spoke. "I managed to get quite a bit of co- Are you crying?" Zander asked, fighting back a small laugh.

"No, I got something in both of my eyes. The dust .. debris fell into my eye. It began to water. Shut up and mind your own damn business!" Rage scolded, quickly walking up the tunnel.
 


      • The heroic feats displayed by their caravan did not go unnoticed by the dwarven indigenous. Upon their return they were greeted with pious cheers accounting for their saviors' good deeds. Zander was the first to step forward and accept the 'burden' of being a hero of Orzammar while Deacon stood in the shadows per se. Becoming unique rather then a typical individual would somehow create a chaos effect and, as unlucky as she often was, inform templars of her whereabouts. She had reason to believe the trail leading to her current location had since gone cold but there was always a tiny margin for error. While their agnostic elven companion bathed in the praise of shaken citizens, Deacon spiraled into obscurity.

        "They're not Grey Wardens and yet, their physical prowess is virtually unmatched by even our highest ranked Proving warriors," the dwarf nobles would whisper amongst themselves. The very moment Deacon caught word of their hasty gossip she slipped her charred fingers into her hood and fastened her mask tight against her dirt-ridden visage. During their trek through the bazaar a man approached them. As most dwarfs he was short and stalky but was quite well dressed. No doubt he was a noble or of some terribly important caste. Things like "bloodline" and "family" meant as much as a tiny insect's worth to the mage and ultimately, she did not favor the dwarves. A philosopher once told her, "'There's an easy solution to every human problem - neat, plausible ... and wrong. So if the solution to our problem is not neat, plausible and wrong then it could be messy, unlikely and right." The dwarves followed a similar maxim in the subject of politics.

        "Lord Pyral Harrowmont has heard of your fantastic feats and wishes that you recover and replenish your supplies under his roof." Before Zander so foolish accepted, Deacon interrupted. She thrust her arm to her side as if to stop him. "This sounds like an endorsement," she began, insuring her voice was masked by her skilled vocal chords, "We take refuge with your Lord Harrowmont and suddenly we've sided with him. I've heard your criers; word travels sickeningly fast in this overheated little grotto of yours." The nonchalant tone had taken Harrowmont's representative aback. While he felt the need to rebuttal it would be against his lord's wishes. "We will not involve you in our politics. If you wish to rest elsewhere you may." Given any other situation Deacon would have declined his offer without second thought. But ... the girl was still very ill, especially after being exposed to the elements of the Deep Roads and Rage was severely injured. For the sake of others she lowered her guard and allowed Harrowmont to house them.

        After being escorted to Harrowmont's estate, Rage and Cloud were taken to seprate quarters for treatment. At first Deacon hadn't worried. Though her hands were razed and ever so slightly scathed with burns nothing compared to the pain from an empty stomach. She hadn't eaten in well over twenty-four hours and her strength was waning with each breath she drew in. Servants sat her in the main hall and sat before her and Zander an extravagant meal of venison, stewed vegetables, freshly cooked breads, cheeses and wines. While Zander displayed relatively decent table manners, Deacon did not. Her hunger overwhelmed her and outweighed her formality. Zander watched in terror as she devoured damn near every morsel on the table, from stew to bread then haplessly asked for second helpings.

        When her stomach eventually was filled and felt it needed no more, the shock of her wounds set in. The cuts, the bruises ... all of it. One of the maidens offered Deacon a private suite to share with Rage's sister as they were both women, while Zander would room with Deacon. While the girl slumbered and rested off her disappointing illness Deacon took advantage of the situation and bathed. A tiny chamber was built in the bedroom where a tub was, much larger then the last they had. She approached the child who was resting on the bed and quietly placed her hand on her shoulders. "Cloud," she whispered, recalling her name from Deacon's cry, "Are you well enough to bathe? If you'd prefer, we can take one together."[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]
 
Rage was more then glad to be taken in by the Harrowmont house. Wounds would be properly attended to, good food, bathing, all the good stuff. So, when the girl decided to bark at the small dwarven messenger, the male felt a small rage building inside of him. She'd spend time idly by talking about how politics were ran and effected word on the street for Orzammar ... while he bled to death? Because, that is just .. terrific.

Though, a great joy of relief spread over his body as she allowed the male to lead them to the estate. Rest and relaxation were bound, thank the Maker.

"Sir! You need to stop fidgeting!" A female voice called.
"No! Never! You and your damn ... ow!" Rage howled, good enough for him, the male had broken a rib or two in his little tussle with the Ogre. Perfect to add to a healing slice wound, two arrow holes in his abdomen. When could his body take a rest?

"Sir! It won't take a momen- Guards!" The voice called.
"Damn you all to the Deep Roads!" Rage howled as he was held down by five well armored Dwarven guards.


Limping lightly, Rage needed to walk off their 'treatment' for his broken left ribs. Each step with his left foot would sound out an 'Ow' from the male as he limped toward where they had taken Cloud against his opinion. Well, the one guard would know not to attempt to take the girl from him .. the male damn near bit off his finger. He may have been holding her but he'll defend her with whatever he has. His own head, feet, knees, and yes, his teeth. Of course, then too, took four guards to hold him back so they could get the girl from his grasp. Rage was sure enough that he broke one of their noses.

A deep sigh exhaled from the male, leaning up against the door hinge. His new bandage wrapping over his torso hid most of his knicks and scratches. Blood soaked pants still on, his body dried in blood, sweat. Dirt mixed with sweat covered his forehead, cheeks.

Rage was surprised to see Deacon watching over his little sister, probably asking to see if she was alright. Rage warned the guards about them giving her a bath when she woke up, she may be little but if it isn't Rage cleaning her off, she has some mean claws on her hands.

"I should warn you, not because you are thinking about it or anything," Rage spoke as he was guessing the topic on mind for the female mage. "She has quite a temper for bathing. Being that I'm her only familly, she has certain boundaries that she won't let anyone but me do. One being bathing." Rage spoke, a small smile on his face as he stared down at his little sister. "She's .. uh .. not very good around strangers, I guess. Talkative with them, yes but when it comes to something like that, she can be a real gremlin."

Taking a step forward, the male placed his left foot down. Feeling a pain spike through his left side, the male immediately clutched his left side. "Ah .. the fine dwarven art of making something feel worse .." The male spoke, tightly holding his left eye closed as he hopped on his right foot to the bed his sister laid on. Letting out a sigh of relief when he was able to sit down.

"So, on top of that infected wound - that is looking so much better, by the way - and the two holes where arrows hit me in the gut. I have two broken left ribs. Ah, the joys of knowing that your sister is safe because you didn't sit around sulking."
 


      • At this point in time Harrowmont must have been starting to feel unappreciated. With a mannerless mage devouring every possible morsel of food he had in his caste larder, a lascivious rogue flirting with every passing female rogue and an overly vehement warrior cursing and threatening physician and guards, there was no doubt he may have been regretting his offer to let them rest there.

        After Deacon withdrew from the slumbering child's side she was greeted with a healthy warning from her elder brother, Rage. Rather then go against his kind suggestion as she usually would Deacon decided to mind herself and leave the child rest. There would be plenty of time for resting now, but one could easily tell from Deacon's wanton eyes that she longed for a taste of fresh air. How much longer she could tolerate the stale, dust-ridden air below the surface was uncertain but she would grin and bare it for however long she could. "Well you're alive. I think that, in itself, is a forlorn miracle," she chided while plucking a tiny waxy wad of soap from the edge of the tub. She took a whiff, clearly bewildered by the aroma. "What is this? Buttermilk?" she questioned silently to herself. After she had sated her intrigue she returned it to its original position.

        "I don't like ... these dwarves and their poor doctoring skills." Each word was like liquid venom from her pretty mouth as she unwravelled her knee guards and slipped off her leatherback boots. Though she was cognizant of their commitment and their attempts, she wasn't all too pleased with the result. Even now Rage seemed perfectly stoic in this underground environment when she felt like she was ready to rip her hair from head. "Rage you know I don't need to be telling you this but you shouldn't be walking around. They just set the bone. If you keep wriggling around like some spring chicken it's going to heal improperly." She was sure he didn't like entertaining the idea of being bedridden for months, but so was the unfortunate circumstances following a malicious ogre attack.

        But, this was no time for chastising. This was a time for relaxation. After all ... he had gotten his sister back, hadn't he? Technically her job was done and she was free to leave any time now. But what kind of woman would she be? A stupid one. With no supplies, torn clothing and injures, she'd be a prime target for the templars. But again, who was she kidding. Her time spent with the easily aggravated warrior and the perverse elf was definitely something memorable. While she reminisced on past events she began removing more and more articles of her clothing until every piece of armor was left in a messy dune by the bed. She gave the bathing room's door a tiny nudge with her foot as she re-entered, removing her tunic and leggings this time. She could bathe in privacy this way but still talk to Rage if he had something troubling him, or just sought companionship.

        "So what now? Your sister is well on her way to recovery. Unfortunately the same can't be said for yourself. Will you move to Denerim? Or rebuild your village?"[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]
 
Rage groaned lightly as he pushed himself up the bed, inching closer to his sister as she laid there sleeping. Attempting to not shift the bed so she wouldn't wake, he learned his lesson long ago to wake her up when she wasn't ready. Goes back to that clawing at your eyes bit. Tough to say that she doesn't have some similarities to Rage. It wasn't that hard to hear the mage speak through the door that closed them off from the room to the bathroom. Her question was a good one indeed. At the moment, the male knew nothing of what he planned to do. Just got his sister back, nothing else was really in perspective.

"Ah, well, I figured that we would settle down around the area of my old village. I'd rebuild us a nice, wooden cabin while you bared my children. Maybe even get a dog, possibly a cat. Handful of chickens, and just live peacefully." Rage spoke, fighting back a small laugh. Ah, it was tough to pass up .. that one. For whatever reason, it was tough not to tease around with the mage about that type of stuff. "Yeah, you know, the good life. Minus impeding Darkspawn invasions, of course. That would just be on holidays, when we left for a family vacation. We'd return to have our crops ravaged, home burnt to a crisp, chickens missing."

Rage slowly laughed against his breath, a deep sigh passing as he looked to his sleeping sister.

"Truthfully, I've yet to think about that sort of thing." The tone of his voice becoming more serious then his early banter. "I just got Cloud back .. would be all sorts of emotion if we went back to our Village. Everyone is dead .. Denerim, ick." The male spoke, he'd be recognized then have Crows on his neck for still being alive. "Denerim isn't somewhere I want to go anytime soon. Bad history in those parts .. bad enough to leave me and my sister as orphans."

It was funny, that was the first time the male ever considered them as that. Depressing in all the wrong ways, happy to know the male was able to keep his sister alive.

"Though, I still owe you a debt, don't I?"

Rage wanted to switch the topic, it was a bit awkward to reminisce. Liked to keep everything from the past just where it was; dead. "One hundred sovereign." The male spoke out loud, a deep sigh following. It would be a bitch to get that back. "How much do you think I could get for Ageless?" Raged cooed to Deacon, "Probably not enough, I assume."

A small laugh quickly filled up the loose silence between them, "Unless you are up for more adventures."

"Y'know. You, me, Zander .. okay, maybe not Zander, but, you and I. Going to tackle whatever in the Maker's creation is out there." Of course, that would leave the question of; What about Cloud? She was showing signs of being a Mage .. maybe he'd take her to the Circle. Even though Deacon would ream his neck for that one.

"Ah, here's to dreaming .. right? Good times aren't always supposed to last. My case in point; our little adventure in Ortan Thaig."

Oh ho. He was just fishing for some sort of reaction.
 


      • While Rage seemed to be put at ease with the end of their venture, Deacon's mind was still filled with discrepancies. She slept in terror every night fearing the templars would subdue her and return her to the Circle Tower while now, that Deacon had his sister returned to him, he could go about his life. Not much effort would be required to reassemble the shattered pieces. But Deacon was not the type to enjoy another's misery. In fact, she took pride in Rage's merriment knowing that she helped him find it. Maybe her peace would come sometime soon, too. She could only hope for a woman with a wily spirit such as her own could only run for so long.

        "Nothing is every promised tomorrow today," she preached, resting her nude body in the vat of piping hot, soapy water. She watched in disgust, almost, as the clods of dirt and grime seeped away from her flesh revealing a very healthy layer of flesh below. "In other words, you needn't plague yourself with thoughts of tomorrow at this instant. For the time being rest, enjoy yourself, revel in the notion that your sister is safe and sound, for tomorrow the sky may fall and the sun may plummet into the earth." During her lapses of silence she marveled at the image of her skin and hair as more and more layers of dirt were scrubbed away by idle water. She hadn't ever seen her hair so clean and was quite pleased with the result.

        "You should know by now I don't want your money."

        While chiding the over-sized man, she plunged her head into the water, sat straight, then ran her partially healed fingertips through her scalp. It was an enjoyable sensation, one that made her know that she was clean. When she was sure every last stubborn speck of grime was gone from her curvaceous body she stepped from the tub and took the towel in her claws, viciously rubbing it over her hair and face. Her mane after being subjected to water - and a decent hairbrush - was tame and fell around her shoulders and precariously casual waves. "Every day of my life is an adventure. I live in obscurity, in the shadows, because I am deemed unfit to walk the same streets as even common folk according to the chantry. I often wonder what it's like to live a regular life ... but even it templars weren't hunting me I don't think my life would be 'regular' at all."

        Of course Rage had to stir up old nonsense. The woman slipped on her fresh clothing - which was suitable for bed - then skittered out into the room to address the beaten, battered and bloody warrior. He wreaked of blood and sweat unlike she who had depicted the aroma of freshly churned buttermilk. "If you're looking for another 'painkiller', there's plenty of noble whores fluttering about looking to greet Orzammar's savior. I'm sure they'd be more then happy to oblige."[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]
 
Rage let out a light laugh, Deacon was so humorous. Why wouldn't she just admit that she liked it more then she put off, it wasn't like she was bad at it. It was tremendous. Ah, well, might as well continue with the fun until she .. beat him. Which wouldn't be that long, given that they were at each others throats in the Thaig. It was only a matter of time before they had either a fist fight or a outrageously loud screaming match.

"Aw, but, Deacon. I thought we had something going."

Rage spoke in reply, his face turning into a grin. "I know for sure I don't want to go to whores for some 'painkillers'. Why do that? When the best possible 'painkiller' has been traveling with me the whole time?" Pushing himself to the edge of the bed, his grin still remaining on his face. Oh, how it was fun to be around the mage. Though, Rage only did it because soon there would be no time to act like this with Deacon. Cloud will be well enough by morning, if not by tonight, so his perverseness would need to be cut short, immediately.

Picking at the bandages, the male slowly unwrapped the cloth from his blood stained body. A sigh of relief exhaling from the male as the tightness of the cloth loosened up against his torso. "That feel better .. " Rage muttered to himself lightly. Pushing himself up from the bed, letting the cloth bandage fall to the floor. "You can come watch me .. maybe even join me, Deacon." The male spoke, giving her a wink before moving to the bathroom.

"Hey, Deacon, if I drown .. take Cloud far."

Smiling lightly, the male was a bit tired so the possibility of falling asleep in the tub, ending up drowning was a possible. Pushing the door close, his smile on his face quickly faded to anguish. Wincing lightly, Rage leaned over lightly. Hands resting against his thighs, taking in a deep breath .. how it was hard to breath with his broken ribs. "Damn the .. Maker." Rage muttered, sucking his pain up like a man. The male moved his hands to his waistline, pushing down his pants and trousers. Luckily enough, there were two tubs in this bathroom. "My clothes are going to soak up all water you soaked in, Deacon. For when they dry, I shall be constant reminded that the water that cleaned my clothes was your bath water."

Laughing lightly, the male slipped into the .. tub, guess you could call it. The square blocks that held water .. blah, whatever they hell you call it. Least it was somewhat warm, sinking underneath the water. Air bubbles slowly floating to the surface of the water as Rage held himself under the water. Letting the dirt, grime, blood and sweat be purged from his body.

Twenty minutes later...

Rage stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. Cocking his brow, what was she still doing in the room? "Deacon .. you didn't pass out, did you?" The male asked, breaking the silence in the room. She looked like she was checking on Cloud then managed to fall asleep.

"Or did you reconsider my offer?"
A devilish grin developing on the face of Rage.
 


      • The moment Rage stepped foot into the vat of water, Deacon had fallen into a deep, balmy slumber. He head was empty ... no dreams, no nightmares, no sounds. She felt at ease, at peace, with nothing to plague her. No templars, no lascivious Zander, absolutely positively nothing. She curled one of the pillows closed to her bosom while cradling her head upon another. The coverages were soft and warm and supplied her sore, ailing body with comfort. Though the child had consumed a large portion of the cot, Deacon's tall body fit just fine.

        When Rage re-entered, his booming voice startled her out of her rest. Her body jetted upwards while she peered warily left to right. Her senses were on full alert for that instance in case some enemy had suddenly appeared. "There's no need to be so loud," she grimaced, burying her head underneath one of the pillows. The truth of the matter was, he wasn't loud in any way, shape or form. Her fatigue merely caught her off guard and heightened her irritant behavior.

        "I didn't ... I didn't pass out, I just fell asleep."

        She kept her spine erect while washing her palms over her pretty visage, flattening any stray locks that dared fall from place. Of course Rage had sex on the brain, or if anything, bothering her. The only thing she craved was undisturbed rest and as things seemed she wouldn't be getting anything of the sort that night with Rage being playful like some young pup. "Rage ... it's too late for your jokes. Put on your clothes and go to sleep, for all of our sakes," she chided while peeling back the blankets and gently sliding her legs effortlessly in. "I'll entertain your childish antics in the morning. But for now, sleep."[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]
 
Rage was speechless. Absolutely speechless. She was serious? Deacon wasn't going to entertain his childish antics, aw, well .. that was no fun. Mood kill. "I don't have anything to toss as a rebuttal." Rage spoke honestly, it was weird. He just wanted to push her button, hoping to get her to rage at him. It would be fun, a screaming match would be fun as hell right now. Grunting lightly, the male turned to face the bathroom. The male walked to the tub, his clothes had been dry for a while now. Soaking the scent of the mage into them, it was good. Would smell amazing for the next few days, until he pours more sweat into it .. and blood, can't forget the blood.

Pulling up his trousers, the male quickly slid his pants on as well. Cracking his neck slightly, the male let out a yawn / sigh mixed. A very pleased release of air that informed him that he needed sleep. Shaking his head lightly, Rage stretched lightly, sleeping without a shirt on seemed like a good idea.

Stepping out of the bathing room, the male walked to the candles on the walls. Blowing them out individually, the room growing darker with each candle being blown out. His attention was brought to the bed, his sister and Deacon were taking up a third of the bed each. Giving him the edge while Deacon slept in the middle, well .. hoped she didn't mind getting spooned again. Walking around the bed to the vacant spot on the bed. "Since you are staying in my room tonight, you are warned now .. if I wake up with a hard-on, its morning wood." Letting out a small chuckle at the end of his whisper, piling into the bed quickly.

A sigh of relief passed through his lips, throwing his arm over the mage. Hand resting on the bed, "Good night." Rage whispered, pulling the girl's body closer to his as he shifted slightly in the bed.
 


      • The night was long ... but not cold and hard like it had been previously. It was comfortable, energizing and completely relaxing. No disturbing wind howling through her head to disturb her sleep, no dense, raw earth to sleep on and most importantly, security. Being exposed to the outdoors and all of its 'majestic wonders' wasn't always settling. It was difficult to progressively rest when danger haunted your dreams. But when thick, gilded walls surrounded you? There was nothing but a settling sensation.

        The following morning, Deacon found herself surrounded by some uncanny warmth. It wasn't from the blankets or pillows, but body heat. That was a given being sandwiched inbetween two corpses - one of a behemoth and the other of a child. Her tart, beryl eyes opened a sliver of a fraction, gauging the darkness first. The room was mild and the low glimmer of quartz and other common minerals flashed. Her arm rested at her side while she squirmed under a vice-like grasp. Such an immense heat was burning at her back she could no longer bare it. At first she thought it was the child - fever perhaps - but she felt hardness, muscle definition and hot skin.

        She turned and knocked her head against something particularly hard - a chest. Rage's. She knew no other hardness, not even that of the mask that hid her beautiful face. The man was still sleeping but under Deacon's watchful eye. His arms, strong and unwavering, were wrapped like a python's coils around her curvaceous frame. She gazed up and him softly and ever so prudently tapped his cheek. "Rage." At first his name was all but a whisper from her ginger breath, peppering the underside of his chin, but when he didn't reply she was forced to utter his name once more. "Rage?"[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]
 
The morning came rather abruptly, felt like the male had just fallen asleep no more then minutes ago when he felt the shifting of the bed. Cloud should be better, so, she'd be up and about more then usual .. he was spooning Deacon so she'd be beckoning her gripes when she couldn't move from underneath him. There was barely any space left for the male to move closer to the girl, his chest pressing into her back, arm over her side resting at on the bed. More then happy the girl would be to realize that he didn't have a handful of her breast, gripping it like it was the hilt of his sword.

Soon the continuous poking underneath his chin slowly began stirring him from his deep sleep. "Damnit ... Cloud ... stop .. " The warrior mumbled in his sleep, shaking his head lightly as he closed his eyelids tightly. Deacon's next call of his name, woke him up enough .. groaning lightly, the male opened his eyes somewhat.

"Deacon .. what?"

He spoke lightly, feeling her chest press into his. A slight hint of red coming across his cheeks, "Something," A yawn interrupting his statement, "wrong, Deacon? Thought you were Cloud being a pest since she was better now .. " the male mumbled, still half asleep, wanting to go back to sleep. His body ached for the rest, to feel the darkness swoop back over him, sweeping him into the safe arms of sleep.

Ah! The male knew exactly the reason why she was waking him. "Sorry .. sorry." Rage mumbled lightly, removing his arm from over top of her. Laying it down his side, shuffling his other arm underneath his head for another pillow. "Was .. there anything else .. ?" The male asked, speaking into a yawn, his eyes opening a tad bit more. Was rather surprising she didn't yell at him to let her go, seeing that they were at each other's throats for a while during this past trip.
 


      • Deacon was too tired and too sore for arguing. Aside from that he hadn't injured or mentally harmed her in any fashion so there was no reason to waste her hard earned rest obsessing over some tiny 'intimate' moment they shared. "Nothing too important," she uttered softly, gently placing her palm flat on his chest. She felt the bandaged wrapped taught there, supporting his broken bones. While she was sure the inside of his chest cavity was preparing for many weeks of excessive rebuilding, there was no doubt he'd be experiencing mild to severe agony throughout the process.

        She was careful not to disturb his displaced bone and let her fingers rest along the outer perimeters of his sternum, gauging the bruising done. Luckily it wasn't anything all too severe ... but it was a major hindrance. With this wound - which would make it virtually impossible for him to walk let alone wield his weapon - their venture would be drawn back. But, it had been completed, hadn't it? Unless Rage had something else to ask of her, and if so, she could kindly lend him her ears.

        "Do you want me to get you some medicine?" she questioned silently, "The maidens told me where their medicinal herbs are ... I can brew up a tea or get you something to eat, or ... maybe you just want to sleep?"
        [/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]
 
Medicine? No, no, no. The girl didn't even have to move to give him anything .. her finger running a course over his chest only seemed to .. intrigue lustful natures inside the male. Oh, how the morning was rather good yet a pain for the male. Her touching his torso only seemed to magnify what his body normally craved for in the morning, pleasures of the flesh unfortunately.

"Why medicine .. ?"

Rage asked lightly, leaning forward lightly. "When you can simply give me something that'll help .. without needing to move out of the bed." The male continued, pushing his lips against the mage's. Rage's hand moved to her thigh, grasping down lightly as he pulled from the tender kiss he laid upon her lips. Whether or not the girl objected, the male would play touchy-grabby with her for a few. Figured it was the least he could do since she woke him up from his sleep. Moving his lips to her neck, the male placed a few kisses on her skin, teeth nipping at her flesh as his hand coursed up the side of her body.
 


      • "What do you mean, 'why medicine'? I thought you may have been experiencing some a little pain if any so I offered -" her words, all of them, hindered by the warrior's hungry lips. For the moment she laid there, idle, bewildered by the man's bewitching actions but then felt the urge to react. Though reluctant at first she followed in suite behind him, returning his gentle kiss. It was nothing severe, or passionate, experimental, she thought.

        She even craned her neck for him, letting him pepper kisses down her jawline and neck, only to feel a sense of wrongness. The warrior was acting on the needs of his body, most likely wanting the 'special treatment' he recieved before. In that sense Deacon felt used; like a commodity, and wasn't all too pleased with that notion. However the warrior had went through virtual months behaving, keeping his hands to himself, not even making a sexual innuendo until recently. This was admirable ... for a man.

        And then Zander strolled in. He was quiet at first, drawing in the situation, just as Deacon slipped from Rage's embrace to chide him on his innopropriate behavior. All she could think was fuck. "You can't say anything this time, Rage," he hissed, "I fucking caught you ... with your dirty man hands all over her. You horny bastard! She's not a toy!" He advanced where Deacon took a defensive stance against him. He was only acting in an immaturely shattered heart.

        "He was just messing around, Zander," Deacon protested. "Yeah, messing around with you. Look at him ... he's another typical man, dirty, selfish ... he doesn't actually like you, he just wanted to have sex with you. I ... I like you!"

        "Zander! Calm yourself."

        "NO!"[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]
 
Wait, wait, wait. Rage had said something before in his defense on why they were .. in a wrongful position? Not that he could remember. The male didn't care what this elf had to say, nor how he felt. Zander's delusions make him believe Deacon and himself are a match, when clearly .. its not exactly correct.

"You may say all you wish, Zander .. because, frankly, I don't give a shit."

Rage replied in between Deacon's and Zander's small little quarrel. "My dirty man hands, huh? I'm pretty sure the same could be said about you and every girl that walks past." The warrior continued, pushing himself upward in the bed, well after Deacon had jumped from the bed to prevent any .. damage. That would be the day, Zander attempting to harm the warrior. That was like a Ogre trying to kill a Dragon single handedly.

"I'm pretty sure I saw you hit on a male dwarf .. thinking it was a female, at some point yesterday. Those damn breads are confusing, huh?" Rage smirked lightly, simply trying to get under the male's skin. Which wouldn't be that hard, just needed to put in a little effort. "What about that little elf maid? Swore I saw you getting flirty with that one at the dinner table." The warrior spoke with a small shrug, a slight whimper causing him to turn his focus away from the ensuing argument between the two males. It was .. Cloud, she was waking up to the sounds of yelling. Not good, not good. She was a .. emotional girl; screaming, fighting, tones raised high .. they all frightened her to the point of just breaking down into tears.

By now, the Elf was furious, practically steaming. Face red of anger, "You ... you ... bastard!" The elf shouted, attempting to lunge at the male who was scooting toward his sister. Thought halted immediately by Deacon. Rage's attention quickly snapped to the elf, not pleased at all. "God damnit, Zander! Get the fuck out of here. I swear if my sister wakes bawling her eyes out because you wish to flip a lid every damn time Deacon and I .. fool around, well, you better hope you can run faster then I can, because if I catch you .. every damn bone in your body will break." Rage quickly chided, running his arm under his sister's head, her whimpers only growing louder as the room quieted down. Animosity could be felt clear in the air.

"Cloud, shuu .. everything is alright, I'm here." Rage whispered lightly to his sister, placing a small kiss down on the top of her head as she rolled over, cuddling up into his arms, head burying into his chest.

"Deacon," The warrior whispered lightly, enough to be heard clearly through the room. "Mind going to get some of medicine?" He asked, wincing slightly as he shifted in the bed, "Maybe bring some back for Cloud as well, for when she gets up." Rage simply just wanted to go back to bed, the time for his lust was over when Zander decided to get uppity.

"Thank you, Deacon." Rage spoke, without giving her much option to say yes or no. Maybe it'll give her time to talk to Zander about their 'relationship'.
 


      • The mage dismissed his "thank you" with a loose wave of her hand while she escorted Zander out of their chamber. She said nothing to him, and the scalding lapse of silence was a chastising enough. "I'm sorry," he apologized, bowing his head in shame, "I ... I just get a little jealous. I realize my feelings aren't reciprocated and I promise from now on I'll act more like a man then a randy adolescent." The look in Deacon's tart beryl eyes made him feel like a complete, utter fool. She was the only entity that he had ever had the chance to come across that could alter his emotion with the pure flicker of her eyes.

        Aside from that, Zander felt chagrin well up inside of him - to the envious elf, Rage did not harbor any genuine feeling towards the mage. To him, he believed she was a commodity; a convenience, and nothing more. If the warrior failed to see that raw power and regalness the mage possessed - so he deemed - then the warrior was unfit to lay his eyes upon any woman and call himself a man. The Maker knew that the rogue's plight was unjust and ultimately incorrect, but his beliefs were his beliefs and he refused to be cajoled into thinking otherwise. "Do you at least see through him?" Zander questioned silently. There was an uncomfortable lapse of silence before she replied.

        "I see through everyone."

        The frigidity - yet profoundness - in her tone sent unwavering shivers down his spine. He was frightened by her voice and how cold it seemed, though he was cognizant that she had to be hard to the world, but stoic behind closed doors. With templars searching frantically for her to return her to the Circle Tower far in the northwest of Thedas, she couldn't spare to be soft and expose her weaknesses. "So ... what are you going to do? About the templars, I mean." While Deacon collected a platter of food from the main hall, she eyed the elf peculiarly. "Don't worry about it." He hadn't thought that whole time Deacon hadn't been devising some master plan? She was vastly intellectual and wise beyond her years. Shame on the elf if he thought otherwise.

        While the mage collected the food for the healing child, Zander left and returned with medicinal herbs for the child. They were raw, but Deacon was a herbalist and could conjure a healthy poultice of ingested serum for the child. "Bring these to Rage," she commanded. "Why can't you do it? You're comin' back, aren't ya?" he questioned in reply.

        "The maidens took my armor to be commissioned. I'm going to see if it's done ... and I have some things to pick up. We may be here for a while so I want to be prepared."
        [/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]
 
Cloud whimpered a little bit more as she dug her face to hide in the male's chest, Rage had wrapped his arms around the girl. Petting her hair lightly, attempting to soothe the shaken girl. "Its okay, Cloud. You are safe now." The male spoke, tone light and caring. May be more then just the small argument held within the room, possibly nightmares from the drugs battling her sickness. Removing his hand from the top of the girl's head, the male reached for the blanket, pulling it up to cover them both up. The small hands of the girl clenching at his chest, Rage frowned slightly. Hated seeing his sister in any other mood then cheerful and childish. A light sigh passed through the lips of the male, hand resting atop of her head once more.

"Don't worry, Cloud. Nothing will harm you."

Rage spoke in a whisper, leaning forward to place a kiss down on her head before looking forward. Deacon and Zander should be back relatively soon, the male only hoped to soothe his sister and get her back to bed before anything. A small yawn passed, the male could use some more sleep for his aching body. Feeling the girl practically slump over against his chest, a sigh of relief passing through his lips. "Must have had a bad dream mixed with the small argument." The male mumbled to himself lightly.

Shaking his head lightly, attention turning to the door that slid open. To his surprise, it was Zander coming through the door rather then Deacon. Terrific. She left him with the medicine, neither would them take any of it til Deacon got back and checked it. Does the male trust Zander? No, hell no. Who is to say that he didn't put some poison in it for 'grabbing at his woman'.

"Just put it down over there and get out." Rage spoke, tone quickly turning to agitation by simply looking at the male.
"Deacon told me to make sure you took it." The elf quickly retorted, his facial expression showing nothing.

Rage cocked his brow lightly, no, he wouldn't take anything. "You can leave it there or I'll chop your fucking hands off." The warrior growled, watching the Elf quickly do as he said. Shaking his head as he watched the elf bolt from his room. Shifting lightly on the bed, Cloud making a small groaning noise to his shift. A small smile returning to his face as he closed his eyes, shaking his head lightly.

"Sleep well, Cloud."
 


  • The mage hadn't seen the likes of the sun in virtually a week. After Rage's brazen scuttle with an overgrown alpha ogre, he was left bedridden with cracked ribs and a substantially bruised sternum. Ultimately, this hindered the progression of their adventure but Deacon wouldn't feel fulfilled if Rage and his sister weren't completely healed. She felt herself cracking; bending at the lack of sunlight. Her eyes craved to witness the flaxen glow of the overtly bright star every night she spent in Orzammar. Eventually she was subdued by the wantonness and ventured outside where the "surface dwellers" thrived outside of the city gates.

    A dwarven guard warned her to shield her eyes as they had grown accustomed to the darkness for many days. Deacon wasn't extremely convinced that a churning pool of lava was a healthy source of light but, the dwarves managed to dwell on it so she no longer questioned it. As the dwarf opened the doors, Deacon did as he suggested, veiling her jaded view with her hand. The first thing she seen was white. All white. A cool blast of air purged her bronzed flesh of soot and dust, sending pleasurable chills up and down her spine. The hawkish gale summoned her outside entirely; she stepped out, one foot after another, finally gaining the gull to gaze up towards the sun.

    The sky was stunning; a shade of drab silver, spotted with several eerie gray clouds. Falling from the heavens were somber white orbs, snowflakes, that fell in wet dunes over the frozen earth outside of the gates. For an hour she stood outside as still as stone. The snow collected on her shoulders and upon the top of her skull, seeping into her bone and causing mild discomfort, but her fervency regarding the outdoors was unending. That was, until, a familiar voice cried out. "The banshee woman? In Orzammar? Oh, the templars will be pleased to hear this!" The mysterious woman's voice was shrill and high, arrogant if anything.

    Deacon peered upward and caught a glimpse of the shade. Her eyes went hard in an instant while she shifted, knocking the collected snow from her shoulders. "Don't give me that look, Deacon. But I know. It's been too long. How have you been? Good I see, making a living for yourself ... traveling around with some low-life warrior. Very unlike you!" The woman's berating voice made Deacon's anger stir. She held her stave tight in a furled fist. Her silence was if anything deafening, which irked the blond woman perched on a stone slab before her. "I apologize that you were so easily cajoled into working along side the templars. What did they offer you? A leeway to run before they slaughtered you?"

    "Actually, complete freedom," the blond replied, "they said if I brought you back to the Circle Tower, they'd destroy my phylactery."

    The mage was an irksome woman that went by the name Belladonna. She was a witch in every sense of the word - backstabbing, untrustworthy, deceitful and if anything, a conceited sociopath. Though a relatively attractive creature with long, tight flaxen curls, she was a monster and a powerful shapeshifter. Deacon and her had butted heads since the day they uttered hellos and more often then not, Deacon arose triumphant. "Of course ... we both know I can't bring you back. So! I have another plan!" She giggled and leaped from her resting spot while taking two steps through the snow. With a mysterious wriggle of her bony fingers she assumed the form of an enormous arachnid and lunged forward. The second Deacon took a defensive stance the woman reassumed her human form, leaped over Deacon's head and swatted her on the back with her hand. It was a light impact that hadn't staggered the armor wearing mage, but she worried about it.

    "As I was saying, I can't bring you in because - as much as it pains me to say it - you're physically superior to me. So I'll just let my little tracking brand lead the templars to you. As long as your heart is beating, the brand will stay active." Amidst her cocky explanation, Deacon subdued her with a powerful swarm of arcane magic and pressed her staff to the blond's throat. "And if the owner of the brand dies it disappears, does it not? When the templars find your body, I'll make sure they know that you were euthanized, not murdered."[/list:u]
 
It had been a long, painful enduring week for the warrior. Ribs seemed to ache and bother him no matter what he did. Walk, shift some in the bed, touch it ever-so lightly. Bedridden was the least of his worries, it was not being able to god damn move was his problem. Every slight movement aggravated it in some way, turning over took twenty fucking minutes rather then the two-three seconds it should. Hell, Deacon had to take care of his sister for him because it was that bad. Dwarven medicine didn't seem to work, Deacons drugs? God damn, he hounded her constantly! 'Pleasseeeee .... Deaconnnnnnnnnn! Gimme drugs!' He would plead, beg, grovel at her feet for them. They worked and sent him on a hell of a trip, normally dealing with Deacon causing Zander to go into a jealous rage.

Well, that was until four days ago where he was bunked with a dwarven female. Then he didn't care for Deacon, just tossed her aside like she was nothing. Then, toward the end of the week! Guess what! The girl wasn't even of age and Zander decided to take her flower. Oh, man. He, yet again, got out of something again. Should've been skinned several times now. Rage didn't find out until Cloud was blabbering about it to him, she was joking and trying to play around with Rage .. which he was very limited in doing, when she was spoke that they gave their money from all the Darkspawn looting to a Dwarf. Of course, Rage got pissed tried climbing out of the bed to go find and kill Zander. That didn't happen.

"Sir! Get back to your bed! Sir!" A female voice called as she followed the staggering warrior to the Gates of Orzammar.
"Oh, shut the hell up!" Rage howled back, right arm wrapped around his torso .. wincing in pain as he hobbled through the corridor half dressed. Breeches tied loosely at his waist, boots untied at his feet with only the bandage wrapping on his chest. Cloud followed quietly behind the dwarven women who tried to persuade the male to get back to his bed.
"Sir! Please, you aren't healed fully! You need rest!"
Rage grunted heavily in disagreement, "I'm fine! Go to hell!" The warrior continued to howl as he moved to the gates, the guards opening them. A white light blinding the male as he stepped foot outside the gates, "AHhhh!" The male howled, left hand attempting to block the light from his closed eyes. "So bright!" He continued, the guards letting out muffled laughs at Rage's expense. Cloud running outside, hindered only slightly by the light. God damn kids.

Rage closed his eyes tightly before opening them slowly, 'Blasted sun ... damn light.' the warrior thought as he looked over to Deacon and some other female. His primary concern to come out here was Deacon, she wasn't planning to run off, did she? Hell, if she was .. he was going with! He would not be stuck with Zander! Gripping his right side lightly, the male took in a deep breath. "And where are you going?" Rage asked with a slight annoyance, question directed toward Deacon. "You best not expect to leave me with our good little friend who now put us in the whole .... again."
 


  • "Oh, is that you're little warrior friend? Seems like he's quite frail, being subdued so easily by darkspawn. The templars will be pleased to know that your primary mode of defense is no longer sufficient." Infuriated by Belladonna's arrogant sputtering, Deacon thrust the blunt end of her newly commissioned weapon into the blond's thin throat. A frail squeak passed her lips as she trembled with raw agony, but still managed to adorn the same narcissistic smile she had before. While Deacon was distracted by Rage's unnecessary appearance, Belladonna discreetly summoned what strength she had and assumed the form of a field mouse.

    "Fuck!" the tiny creature scampered away to safety, within the cold walls of a snowy dune. Much to Deacon's chagrin she summoned an enormous burst of blue flame which melted the dune upon impact, but during the time it took for Deacon to conjure her mana, Belladonna was able to flee. It was rare that Deacon displayed her frustration, but today was one of those days. She howled vehemently, booting a nearby collection of snow which swiveled into the wind with her strength. The one time she had found Belladonna (or more accurately, Belladonna found her) the sneaky blond managed to slip through her fingers.

    "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she turned to take her anger out on the brazen warrior who had ventured out from his quarters. "You're supposed to be in bed, resting. And where's your sister? You left her alone?" She began cursing silently under her breath and turned her back on the man, watching the path that lead down the mountain. Her voice was calmer this time around. "I'll be back soon." [/list:u]
 
Rage's eyes quickly formed into a glare as the Mage began to question him with a few choice curse words in her sentences. Crossing his arms over his chest, the warrior sidestepped to the right slightly. The little girl smiled innocently and gave Deacon a small wave. "If you are to believe that I would simply leave my sister alone in Orzammar or with Zander, then you clearly have me mistaken. Didn't go through all the trouble to get her back just to throw away all my responsibilities as a brother." Rage spoke with a small grunt, the girl's arms quickly wrapping around his leg, laughing lightly. She had no idea what was going on, was just happy to be outside for once .. well, outside the Deep Roads and Orzammar.

"Back soon, eh? Well, I warn you now. You don't return by tomorrow, I will come find you." Rage spoke firmly in reply, rotating his right arm lightly before looking down to Cloud, giving her a small smile before looking back to the Mage. "And I will bring a club. This club won't be there for show, either." Grinning lightly, he was sure she understood what he meant by bringing a club. Go caveman on her and bonk her on the head. Rage let out a small sigh, looking to the little girl once more. "Oh, you may want to not stay away for far too long. I'm pretty sure Zander was being Zander again." Letting off a shrug, the male turned back toward the gates of Orzammar, patting Cloud on the head. The male wouldn't last very long if he was to deal with Zander's antics ... not right now, at least.

Rage retreated back to his bed, the nurse spewing idle threats about getting the guards to make sure he stayed in bed from here on out. The warrior would simply take the empty threats in stride until the dwarfs showed they were going to back them, then .. well, there'd be some fighting. Some bloodshed. Broken bones, and of course! Deaths! And then Rage would no longer be able come to Orzammar. Grunting lightly, "Three more fucking weeks of this damn shit." The male spoke in between his grunts. He hated, hated, hated being bed-ridden. Rage's arrogance felt that it was better for him to be up and about to help heal his wounds, not medicine and rest. Though, he did like the drugs that the Mage gave him from time to time. Helped sleep come faster then what the dwarves have given him.
 


  • Despite Rage's commands, Deacon trekked down the mountain pass to a snowy copse of trees where she discovered an iced over pond. While she did not condone self-punishment, she realized she needed a way to reflect on her decisions and poor performance concerning her encounter with Belladonna, the master shapeshifter from Orlais. She combed over the ice with her ginger-ale eyes and noted a watery region. She approached the bank and slowly submerged herself in it. At the instant she felt her skin burn with an unfamiliar sensation, ridden with sharp, stabbing pricks.

    She felt her heart come to a painful slow; her tawny flesh turned blue from the hawkish water and her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Since tending to Rage's wounds - and traveling with him in general - she hadn't had any time to practice nonchalance or peace of mind. This may have been the aspect that made her lose her battle to the Orlesian shapeshifter. Because she was not able to still her mind and thoughts, she was troubled, frantic even, and could not find her innermost complaisance. After hours - in and out of the rivulet, so her heart could return to a normal beat - she was able to find her peace again. It consisted of meditation, stretching, and physical discipline.

    When even-tide burned through the sky, she knew her day to herself was coming to a close. She trekked back up the mountain - shivering as the harsh mesa air tore through her clammy, cold skin - and asked for the dwarven guards to let her return to the city. During her venture to the Diamond Quarter, she had a thought - with the cold water bringing her heart to a slow - and inevitably, a temporary stop (which didn't mean death) - wouldn't that technically mean the brand would be dispelled? She couldn't practice something so dangerous on her lonesome; she would need someone to return heat to her body when her heart stopped and otherwise revive her.

    The warm was inviting; something, for the first time ever, she had welcomed. Her quarters were quiet; she believed the physicians whisked Cloud off, or she was sleeping, but she hadn't quite taken note of the child yet. Rage, too, was nowhere to be seen. She took this time to disdain her wet clothing and position them by the hearth; she rummaged through her belongings, wrapping a tight, cotton black bandeau around her body and finding a warm cardigan to warm her icy corpse. It was then she heard the singing of water and ginger footfalls - they were too heavy to be Cloud's. [/list:u]
 
It wasn't a thirst of battle that drove the male into his near homicidal rage; it was everything. Battle brought him peace. Broken ribs, Zander, being bed-ridden for three more weeks and now Deacon leaving. That .. pushed him to his homicidal rage. Took four dwarven guards to subdue him long enough for a nurse to give him a tranquilizer. The day passed quickly under that 'medicine', he didn't remember a thing after that. Until that, he could remember it perfectly. Why couldn't he just go back to killing Darkspawn?

A deep sigh passed through the lips of the male, Cloud had been running about with a young dwarven child. Cloud standing only a couple inches taller then this said child, who she quickly became friends with. Rage told her to stay clear of getting into trouble, she was inquisitive by nature. He wouldn't stop that; stealing, fighting, cursing. That wouldn't sit with the male. He may act like an arrogant, curse-swearing low-life. That didn't give her the reason to go around mimicking him, he wouldn't stand for it. She'd be a lady, ladies do not act like such ... unless you are a lady named Deacon. Then you simply skate on people just because Zander lost his money, not once, but twice now. Grumbling to himself lightly, the male sunk deeper into the tub. The hot water easing slight tension in his ribs, wincing every time he shifted.

The male had taken it fairly hard by now. Deacon's 'disappearance' lead him to believe she had simply said 'Fuck it, I'm done with you guys.' and left. She had every right to do so, Rage didn't discredit that because he had yet to pay her like negotiated. For reasons - unknown to him - the warrior simply took it hard. Her disappearance symbolized that he would have to deal with two children after he got better. Cloud and Zander. One of which he would rather drown in a lake and not have to worry about, and no, he wasn't talking about Cloud. Grunting lightly, "God damn, mage. Should have never been so quick to trust her." The male grunted, quickly howling some as he shifted, causing a pain in his side to rack his body.

Nails digging into the stone slabs, "Oh, and yay, I get to deal with fuckin' Zander now, too. Wonder where his dumb ass is. Probably chasing some one, wracking up more gold that we have to pay people with to keep them from skinning his hide." The male continued to tirade, shaking his head in disgust. "Why can't I enjoy this damn bath in peace!" Rage spoke, slamming a balled up fist into the side of the tub. A crack showing from his impact.
 


  • The mage felt mellow; calm, even after Rage so vehemently spat on her name time and time again. She didn't feel anger anymore; it was this complaisance she hosted that defined her persona; she was not a violent human being, and traveling with a temperamental warrior and overtly hormonal rogue didn't help her cause. Before addressing the warrior, she plopped down on the bed and rubbed her feet with her strong, jeweled hands, tending to the sore compilations of hawkish pain that lived there. It waned soon enough and she stood, stretching her heels and ankles, then swiveling on her soles.

    She cringed at the disturbing sound of marble cracking under Rage's raw strength; his anger was something, too, she felt had to be controlled or at least, expelled. Everyone had an outlet. For her it was mental and bodily discipline while for Rage, it was the thrill of battle; the sensation of adrenaline pouring through his body while he bore through fetid darkspawn flesh with his blade.

    As she approached the man, her footfalls virtually inaudible, she knelt down near the crown of the marble and placed her now warm hands on his shoulders. His flesh was hot; moist with the water he was bathing on, but hard from the many times he had battled. Her fingers rested idly for an instant, gauging the density of his tendons and the amount of knots his mistreated muscles were holed up in. She hadn't said a word to him, merely, let her fingers talk; the peppered up near his neck then down around his shoulder blades where she yet again, took note of several horrid scars. [/list:u]
 
Rage heard the door creek open, but no sounds of feet pressing against the hard floor. Grunting lightly, "Damnit, dwarfs, get the hell out!" The warrior howled, continuing to hear no footsteps nor someone replying. The warrior continued to grumble under his breath, to himself. Mainly about everything and not being able to fight. It was the only thing that seemed to not be an issue. It was! Blood! Guts! Gore! Death! Swinging Ageless around decapitating worthless Darkspawn. Killing them by the hundreds. What could be better!?

"Close the damn door, I am in the--" Rage felt the fingers dig deep into his shoulders, a tremendously great feeling. The warrior felt quick work, whoever was rubbing his shoulders surely was amazing with their hands. A light moan escaped his lips, quickly covering it up with a long, exaggerated sigh of relief. Yes, the warrior was deeply enjoying whoever was rubbing his shoulder muscles. Built up tension, soreness; it all went there the most. Given that he had to carry a relatively heavy sword, swinging it was no easy challenge either. Leaning forward, the male covered another moan with a harsh breath of air. Though, quickly covered up with a grunt from moving in the tub. The male's thoughts went completely dead, rage built up inside him; gone. If someone close to him knew that it shut him up completely, they could use it to their advantage when he runs him mouth in anger, frustration or just cause.

Leaning back once more, the male sat up in the tub. Allowing whoever was behind him to rub his shoulders as a whole. "My .. god .. " Rage muttered lightly, these hands were very skilled indeed. Whoever was behind him seemed to hit a lot of his knots, if not all of them. "This .. is far better that Deacon's drugs." The warrior continued, letting out a silent laugh. "If you are still here when I'm out of this tub, I'm going to have to buy you a brew. This is just .. amazing." Opening his eyes, 'Unless this is something from Zander .. what did he dooo ---' "Ooohhh~" The warrior chimed, completely nullifying any thought of Zander doing something wrong in his head.
 
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