16, dorian/ansel
“I have not the patience for children, much less infants,” Ansel says, but he kneels down anyway, examining the curious ensemble of sentient wailing wrapped rags. The baby appears uninjured, though miserable about its state, if not specifically for its abandonment at one of Skyhold’s less visited outposts. He frowns, thinking. “We cannot leave it here, however.”
“Order one of your scouts to take it to the nearest village,” Dorian suggests, which is by far the most obvious solution. He isn’t thrilled about the prospect of adding yet an additional child to their company. Cole and Sera are enough.
“We’re the ones headed to the nearest village,” Ansel reminds him. He scoops up the infant into his arms, cool and efficient as if firing an arrow from his bow. The baby miraculously quiets, startled by the attention. “Dorian, give me your sash. Please.”
“Really, Ansel? Right now? Right in front of the babe?” Dorian says, almost missing the briefest smile from Ansel, but he unwinds the expensive piece and hands it over, already sighing over its loss.
He isn’t sure if he wants to comment on Ansel’s surprising proficiency with baby handling. It must have come from being Dalish, where the community is small and the minding of children is shared between adults. It might not even be worth bringing it up. He watches Ansel fashion a makeshift baby sling, wrapping the sash around his shoulders and waist to secure the baby over his chest like fragile cargo.
Ansel bears it well, especially when the baby begins to squall. He tests the movement of his arms, miming drawing an arrow to his bow. “Good enough,” he finishes, as if that was all he needed to know. His voice is barely audible over the wailing.
“Ridiculous,” Dorian scoffs, stepping closer. He catches the baby’s attention with a harmless wave, producing a soft warm light from his palm. The child’s eyes go wide, but when Dorian smiles, the child smiles back.
“You’re good at this,” Ansel says, unexpected.
Dorian glances up, finds Ansel staring at him. “Me? Look at you!”
Ansel shakes his head, lifting a hand as if to acknowledge they were both partly right and partly wrong, in the end.