Daydreams

Maker’s Breath. Just look at her.
Swerving from left to right, tossing a fireball at a darkspawn here, ducking under a skeleton’s arm there. So smooth, so fluid. It looked so natural, so… so her. Like a fish in water. If fish were as handsome as she was.
Alistair leaned on his sword, taking a moment to really look at the scene in front of him.
She was beauty incarnate, as far as he was concerned. And the funny thing was that she didn’t even know it.

He sighed dreamily as Solona froze a Genlock with a mere flick of her fingers. Those long, slender fingers. Alistair never knew fingers could be this attractive, but hey, here he was.
Oh, and the sound of her voice. He didn’t care if she was casually talking to him or screaming deathwishes and profanities at whatever was attacking them that day, it was always so husky and silky and hmm.
And the best part when she talked? Her lips. The way they moved. Absolutely mesmerizing. It was all he could do not to stare at her lips all the time when he was near her.

“Alistair! To your left!” Zevran’s voice abruptly tore Alistair from his daydreams.

Acting on reflexes alone, Alistair jumped to the right. Which was a good thing, because now the rusty blade only grazed his side. If Zevran hadn’t called out his torso would’ve gone without the lower part of his body.
Gritting his teeth at the sudden sharp pain, Alistair swung his sword at the offending Hurlock that had snuck up on him while he was looking at Solona. With a guttural gurgle it collapsed on the ground in a disgusting black, glistening heap. Alistair kicked it, for good measure.

“Nicely done, my friend. But next time, try to stay focused on something else than the excellent curves of our warden. Yes?” Zevran’s knowing grin stung more than the gash in Alistair’s side.

“I did no such thing.”

Raising an eyebrow, Zevran didn’t reply.

Alistair scowled, “I don’t know what you and your eyebrow are talking about.”

“As you say.” The grin didn’t waver.

~~

Ignoring Alistair’s muffled cries of pain, Wynne shook her head as she prodded the nasty gash.
“Do pay attention when you’re in battle, Alistair. You’re no use to anyone when you’re dead,” she gently scolded. Her hands glowed a bright blue and the wound slowly closed.

“I can’t help it!” Alistair threw up his hands in frustration, “It’s just… there I am, fighting off darkspawn with all my might. Hacking and slashing and grr. You know how it goes. And then…”
He sighed again, rolling his shirt down, “Then… I see her. And my mind goes completely blank. Except it doesn’t, only it’s filled with images of her.”

“Ah,” Wynne slowly stood up, “Love.”

Shocked, Alistair looked up at her, “What? Love?” He laughed, too loud, too fast, “I wouldn’t go that far. Not really love. Not as such.” His voice trailed off.
“But Wynne, she is just so… so…” Words, for once, eluded him. “Perfect,” he concluded, for want of a better description.
Suddenly his own words caught up with him, “Wynne, please, please, please, don’t tell Solona what I just told you. It’d just make things weird and we don’t want that. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I get it, Alistair. You may not yet get it yourself, but I do. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
And with that Wynne dusted off her robe and walked back to the campfire, leaving Alistair to his pondering.

Love? Could it be? He scrunched up his nose. No. He’d only known her for a few weeks now, that was too short a time to-
But then again, he told himself, how else would he explain his recent behavior? That odd feeling in his stomach when she smiled? Could it be?

Once again, his thoughts were rudely interrupted. But this time it was the annoyed taptap of a shoe on the ground. He looked up and saw the subject of his daydreams standing in front of him. And boy, was she angry.

“Alistair! What were you thinking!” she started when she noticed she had his attention, “Wynne and I just had a little chat, do you want to take a guess at what she told me?”

Instantly, Alistair’s gaze flickered over to where Wynne was standing. Wynne, who was now smiling encouragingly at him. That old hag!

“No! Wait! Solona, this isn’t what you think it is,” he hastily said, scrambling to get up on his feet, “Unless you happen to think it’s a good thing, then it probably is what you think it is. But judging by the look on your face you don’t think it’s a good thing, so I-“

“A good thing? Honestly, Alistair, how can you think it’s a good thing when you-“

Ignoring the almost audible shattering of his heart, Alistair interrupted her, “I know, I know. How can I be so unprofessional, right?”

Solona deflated a bit, “Well. Yes,” she admitted.

“But I can’t help it! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell Wynne!” Alistair raked his fingers through his hair and started pacing. “It just happens! Every time I see you my mind just goes zap and the rest of the world disappears. And I know that it’s dangerous and that it shouldn’t happen, but I promise you that it’s just a… a… a thing.”
Oh great, now he started stuttering as well. As if this wasn’t painful enough yet.

Solona just stared at him, a blush creeping up on her cheeks.
Maker, that blush looked good on her though.

No, Alistair! He scolded himself. Keep it together. Just this once!

“Anyway,” he continued, “I will do better next time. I’ll get my head on straight, I assure you. Or as straight as it ever was, anyhow.”
He sighed, his eyes cast down, “I just wished I could’ve told you myself, instead of Wynne being the bearer of this rather personal news.”

“Ehm,” Solona obviously felt uncomfortable. She cleared her throat, “Wynne told me that you were wounded,” she said softly, chewing on her lip, “And I didn’t know you got, y’know, hit. I would appreciate it if you would tell me if and when you’re hurt. Next time.”

Alistair could only stare. His head felt as if it were on fire. His ears were buzzing and his heartrate went mad.
“Well,” he squeaked, cleared his throat and tried again, “Well.”

“Yeah.” Solona actively avoided his eyes, staring at her feet.

“This is awkward,” he managed to say, before turning on his heel and fleeing the scene. Solona was left behind, smiling faintly. Only one thought dancing through her mind.

“He likes me.”