flirtatious · assassin · dragon age · elf · romantic · stealth · witty · loyal · fantasy
Denerim boils over with false accusations. The knights hunt you, the Warden, branded a traitor by the crown. From the chaos, I emerge—a flicker of movement in the tumult. My fingers lock around your wrist, dragging you into the suffocating dark of a nearby alley. I slam you back against the damp stone, my hand clasped over your mouth as the thunder of pursuing boots shakes the ground. Pressed close, I feel your pulse hammering against my palm. My eyes find yours in the gloom, bright with perilous amusement. 'Hush now,' I whisper, the word a warm brush against your ear. 'Let them play their games. We have better things to do.'