"What's that? Cat got your tongue?"
When she doesn’t answer straight away, Alistair’s smile faulters a little.He tries not to fidget or look uneasy, but the longer Isha stares at him, the harder it is for him not to move around.
Isha manages to squeeze a sound out of her mouth, but its not a word and quickly covers her mouth.
Alistair clears his throat and because the silence is too much, he has to say something. “What’s that? Cat got your tongue?”
His teasing snaps her out of her surprised stupor as he hoped it would and she blinks rapidly at him, eyes dropping from his face to the ring between his fingers.
"You…" Isha swallows, "have the worst timing. And you’re mad."
He raises his eyebrows, “that isn’t a no.”
"I’m going to Amaranthine in two days!" Isha snaps, "you’re asking me now? When we’re going to be seperate for who knows how long?"
Wincing a little, Alistair avoids the mages flailing hands as she gestures wiildly at him, talking quickly about how he can’t marry a mage anyway, plus they’re Grey Wardens and why would he do this now?
"I’m doing this now," he begins, "because I love you and because you’re going to Amaranthine. If we’re going to get married, it’s going to be done properly, not some half-arsed wedding in a backwater Chantry in the middle of no where.”
"Alistair…" Isha’s voice drops and her eyes return to the ring. Its silver, not gold - she hates gold and he’s remembered. There’s a small stone in the centre, nothing grand or eyecatching, but understated.
"Also," Alistair continues, slowly grasping her left hand and watching Isha watch him slide the finger onto the appropriate finger, "I can marry a mage, and if you say yes, I’m going to marry a mage.”
Isha flexes her fingers, and must admit to herself how at home the ring feels on her hand.
"If?" She repeats, raising her eyes to meet Alistair’s.
He smiles softly, gently holding her hands in his. “Well, I don’t want to be presumptious. You haven’t said yes, yet.”
"You’re that certain I’ll say yes?" She asks, challenging him a little. He says nothing, just raises both eyebrows and looks at her shrewdly. "Alright, yes." She huffs and smothers herself against his chest when he pulls her close. "I still think you’re mad."