Fenris being a piece of shit and saying really dirty shit to Hawke out on a mission just out of reach of the party
Fenris had been quieter than usual this morning, he had barely said anything since leaving the outer walls of Kirkwall and getting on the road towards the mountains. But Hawke noticed that the elf’s eyes were pointedly on him every time he looked back at his party. He had a way with his eyes, something that everyone else had seemed to notice as well. Sometimes there was something heavy and sad behind them but sometimes, like today, there was something indefinitely more striking. It made Hawke feel warm even in the dismal Free Marches autumn.
It wasn’t long before the group was jumped by a band of raiders, the men fanning and attempting to over power them with numbers. They were not particularly skilled but made up for it with their scrappiness and speed . Hawke struggled to get a decent aim on any of them, his arrows catching only arms and boots before cursing and pulling his daggers out for the fight. He was vaguely aware of the frost in the air as Merrill cast something near him, a flurry of arrows catching one of the men to his right, Fenris almost growling as his blade wrestled another. Daggers out Hawke moved in for a man he has flanked, but before he could slash away at the man’s armor he was caught in the shadow of more raiders, reinforcements from over the hills.
A dagger jammed into one of the men’s ribs, blood warm on Hawke’s hand as he withdrew it and whipped around to try and get himself some space. But he wasn’t as skilled in close combat as he was in archery, especially not with four men surrounding him. Hair stood on end as a lightning spell caught two of the men and trapped them on the spot, convulsing and Hawke turned to take down the last one when one of the convulsing men threw himself forward and toppled Hawke to the ground.
The weight of the man, with his armor and his manic movement trapped Hawke against the rocky earth, hands fumbling for his blades before the man hit him hard on the head with the pommel of his short sword. Black dots sprang into his vision before the man on top of him stilled suddenly, a death rattle slipping from him before he was pulled off of Hawke by a seemingly casual Fenris.
“You alright Hawke?” Fenris asked as Hawke rubbed his forehead and stumbled up to his feet.
“Yes,” Hawke said before making a disapproving noise at the bump he already felt forming on his head. “I just dont appreciate having violent men throwing themselves on top of me.”
“Funny. Last night gave me a different impression.” Fenris slid his eyes to Hawke with a small smirk. Hawke blinked, mind completely blank as he felt his face burn up, only closing his gaping mouth when he heard Varric’s distant chuckle.
“If thats the case,” Fenris continued casually as he pulled the coin purses from one of the bodies, “Perhaps you should do the throwing next time.”