Omg all those prompts are so good 0_0 *wheezes* Okay, snowball fight in Skyhold's courtyard (include as many chars as you want) combined with either “we were playing in the snow and you suddenly tackled me to the ground and now…we’re just…staring… at each other…” or "PULLING YOU IN FOR A KISS WITH A SCARF", with Maraazim maybe?? >3> Hope you get your muse back soon <3
Well, here it is! Apologies if this is riddled with mistakes; it is 1am and I do not have any energy left to edit u_u
~2500 words. Featuring Hanin Lavellan, The Dawn Squad, Jarvaazim (@taerellavellan’s OC) and Maraas Adaar. Most under the cut <3
It was a rare thing, for the soldiers of the Inquisition tofind a few moments to just relax. Unwind. Breathe.The snow fell softly from a marble sky, decorating hats and the shouldersof coats, dusting its way across every signpost and steeple. There wassomething picturesque about winter. It froze the world in more ways than one;gave people longer to enjoy it.
So, as one might imagine, the sound of cursing and delightedsquealing came as something of a shock to Hanin.
Grumbling, he snapped his quill down against the table, hisreport barely a third finished and already overdue by more days than he caredto count. He had tried ignoring it, and it had worked for a time, but now thenoise had swelled to the point of inexcusable. And right outside his window. So, tugging on his coat and marching downthe stairs from his quarters, Hanin mulled darkly over what he would say.Terse, strict, and scathing. Their lack of duty did not give them leave todisrupt the work of others. He would set them to cleaning out the stables if hehad to, just to get a moment’s peace. He would—
Hanin threw open the door, teeth clenched, jaw stiff withirritation… then blinked in surprise as a blonde blur rocketed past him,laughing brightly until he copped a ball of snow to the face. He stumbled andfell with a fwump into the snow… thenwas up again almost immediately, grinning broadly, cheeks flushed, nose red,remnants of powdery snow falling from his freckled face as he began franticallypreparing his counter-attack.
“Ha! Got you!” Ralon whooped, white teeth flashing againstdark skin, another snowball already in hand. He tossed it up lazily, catchingit again and losing almost half the snow in the process of showing off. “Who’snext, huh? Who dares to challenge me, Ralon, King of the—OOOF!”
Lyrene appeared almost out of nowhere, sniping Ralon with asnowball to the back of the head, knocking the man forward indignantly. Helanded in the snow face-first, his rear in the air, arms sprawled out in frontof him as the archer let out a thrilled laugh, skipping from where she had concealedherself behind a snow-covered fence. “Less talking, more throwing, your Majesty,” she jeered playfully as Ralon extractedhimself from the snow. But the Antivan did not rise, instead succumbing to afit of laughter, flopping onto his back and covering his face with one glovedhand in mock-shame.
Darren, who had been running around dodging snowballs tossedby some of the other off-duty soldiers, came to a breathless halt when henoticed Hanin standing in the doorway. His face immediately coloured and,puffing, he tucked his hand behind his back, snowball melting into his glove. “S-Sir!I, ah… we were just… um…”
“Come to piss on the parade, sir?” Cyrus asked. He waslounging against the wall of one of the buildings, a pile of pre-rolled snowballsbeside him, clearly content to just peg them at anyone foolish enough toventure too close. Connors sat beside him, dutifully rolling snowball aftersnowball, seemingly content with the task. The dark haired man cocked his head,smirking. “Huh. I figured your allergies would be playing up, what with peoplehaving fun so close-by.”
“I was working,” Hanin replied, still a little caughtoff-guard by the scale of the conflict taking place in the courtyard. Were those… forts on the far side? “Writingreports.”
“Oh…” Darren dropped his snowball and dusted off his gloveanxiously. “You were? Are we being too loud? Maker, I said we shouldn’t do this here…”
“C’mon, it’s the only place with enough room for us all,”Lyrene countered with a pout, wandering over to Darren and slinging her armaround the boy’s shoulders. “Stop acting like you killed somebody, yeah? We’lljust keep it down a bit.” She turned her attention towards Hanin. “That alrightby you, sir?”
Hanin thought on it for a moment… but Darren’s hopeful gaze,peeking out from beneath snow-tousled hair, was enough to break even thestrongest of wills. So, despite his earlier convictions, Hanin just grunted,leaning against the doorframe. Folding his arms, he regarded the group. “Verywell, then.” Darren let out a gasp of delight, Lyrene grinning and laughing aswell, but Hanin raised his hand to silence them. “On one condition.”
“Knew it was too good to be true,” Ralon noted with a sigh,having composed himself and moved to stand with Lyrene and Darren. “What’s itgonna be? Silence? No running?”
Hanin’s gaze flicked between the three members of his squad,then over to Cyrus and Connors, then over to the distant forts on the otherside of the courtyard. “Whose forts are those?”
Ralon frowned, and all of the Dawn Squad turned to regardthe two forts. “Riegler’s squad’s on the right, I think,” he said after amoment. “Yeah… that looks like Sanson and Naria.” Murmurs of agreement rose fromthe others. “The one on the left is Maraas’ and Jarvaazim’s.” Ralon snorted. “Ain’tno one getting into that fort.” Then,slowly, the group turned back to look at Hanin.. “Uh… what about them, sir?”
Confused, they all gazed at Hanin. The warrior, so bitterbefore, so angry, let the momentstretch for a time… then a smirk tugged up the corner of his lips.
“You have half an hour to take one of them.”
“Shit, those kids really don’t let up, do they?” Maraas letout a booming roar, hefting a large snowball in one hand, then leaped up,hurled it over the wall of the fort and sending it crashing into Darren, whowas quite literally knocked flat by the impact. His squadmates immediatelyrushed to cover him, pelting Maraas with counter-snowballs, and the largeVashoth ducked back down again, tossing his head back and laughing. Unrestrained.Fun. This was surprisingly fun. Heglanced across at his teammate, and snorted in amusement. “You wanna share someof those, partner?”
Jarvaazim, who had a veritable mountain of snowballs by his side, cocked a brow at Maraas, handsalready working another clutch of loose power into a tight sphere. “Sure. When you stop wastin’ all ourartillery.” He flashed a wicked grin. “Rate you’re goin’, we’ll be out in halfa minute, easy.”
Again, Maraas just succumbed to laughter, shifting to movecloser to Jarvaazim. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t you want to see me floor some of Hanin’sducklings? It’s pretty fun once y—OOF!”
Sadly, sometimes being a Qunari was a distinct tacticaldisadvantage, and Maraas failed to keep his head low enough, copping a directhit, then another in rapid succession, thrown by Lyrene and Darren. However, seeing thedelight on the kid’s face at having actually hit him, Maraas made a big show of falling over, vanishing behindthe wall and groaning loudly, as if dazed. There, lying in the snow, he grinnedas he heard Darren’s delighted laughter and the sound of high-fiving drift overthe fort’s wall. “Reckon Hanin’ll have them cleaning out the stables later forslacking off?” Maraas asked Jarvaazim amiably, tilting his head towards his snow-sculpting teammate. Thepirate hummed, an amused smirk flickering across his lips. Maraas watched the expression appreciatively. Good lips, those...
“Sure. If they lose.” Jarvaazim hefted a perfect snowball in his hand, inspecting it for a moment as thoughit were a work of art, then launched to his feet. “Avast! I may be a man down,but ye’ll never take this fort!” He hurled his snowball, then another, catchingRalon and Cyrus this time. Then, Jarvaazim grinned, snagging a third snowballand aiming it at the pile Connors was building. It smashed into it, scatteringthe carefully moulded snow, earning shouts of dismay from the Dawn Squad astheir supply was ransacked. Triumphant and satisfied, Jarvaazim crouched backdown behind the wall, then tossed a wink to the still-prone Maraas. “Got ‘emgood that time. See? It’s all about tactics.”
“Yeah, yeah, tactics. Huh….”Maraas let out a sigh, his gaze slipping away for a moment to watch the clouds.Then it flicked back, a frown playing across his face. “You’ve uh… got a littlesomething. On your nose.”
Jarvaazim blinked, surprised by the sudden announcement, andreached up, brushing his fingers over his face. “What? Where? Did I get it?”
“Nah, still there.”
Frustrated, Jarvaazim swiped again, then turned towardsMaraas. “Now?”
“Nope. Missed it again.” When Jarvaazim groaned and cursed,Maraas just grinned, gesturing. “C’mere. I’ll get it, you big baby.”
“Ay, says the one who wanted to come play pretend with thekids,” Jarvaazim shot back, although both Vashoth’s tones remained playful. He shuffledover, proving wiser than Maraas and keeping lower than the wall. “All right. Goon, then. Go get i—mmph!”
Without further ado, Maraas reached up, snagged the scarfbundled around Jarvaazim’s neck, and tugged the pirate down for a kiss,catching his lips with his own, smiling as he pressed himself hard against theother man. Jarvaazim pulled back on instinct at first, then let out a grunt ofamusement, leaning into the moment once he realised what was going on. Afterall, he was down there now. Might as well make it worth the trip.
“You’re such a shit,” he informed Maraas once they brokeapart, air steaming between them as their breath mingled with the cold. Themercenary just laughed, a deep, wholesome sound, hand still tangled inJarvaazim’s scarf.
“Maybe,” he agreed after a moment, grinning, “but it keepsthings interesting. Where’s the fun in playing by the rules, right?”
Jarvaazim considered Maraas for a moment, then succumbed tohis trademark smirk. Shit, Maraas really likedthat smirk. “Sounds like one of my lines,” he mused. “Don’t tell me youactually started listenin’ when Ispeak.”
“Hm? You say something?”
Jarvaazim rolled his eyes and let Maraas tug him down foranother kiss. They hummed against one another’s lips, content despite the coldand despite the water slowly seeping through Maraas’ coat from lying in oneplace for so long. It was an easy thing to ignore, with such a good distraction…
Distraction….
Frowning, Maraas pulled out of the kiss, placing a stillinghand on Jarvaazim’s chest. “Hey… is it real quiet, or—”
Suddenly, the Dawn Squad came careening over the wall,whooping and roaring battle cries, snow trailing behind their coats and boots inan explosion of white as they breached the forts defences and surrounded thepair of Vashoth. “Surrender!” Lyrene declared as they all aimed snowballs atthem. “Or we’ll be forced to… wait…”
Maraas watched in amusement as realisation dawned on each oftheir determined faces, exhilaration turning to confusion turning to understanding.“UGH!” Lyrene abandoned her snowball, vaulting back over the fort wall withreckless abandon, crying, “Nope! Not worth it!” Connors followed, albeitsilently, until only Cyrus, Ralon, and Darren remained. The three young menstared down at the Qunari, who stared back, utterly unperturbed by the untimelyinvasion.
“Well shit, don’t let us stop you or anything,” Cyrus saidwith a smirk, folding his arms. “Was a lot of work getting this far – might as well get a showfor it.”
“Hm, gotta agree,” added Ralon, nodding sagely. “But eitherway…” He flashed a grin. “We win.”
“We did?” Darren asked, seemingly shocked by the prospect.He was also the only one who remained steadfastly in the confusion stage of the realisation process. But his expressionbrightened nonetheless, and he clutched his snowball close, as though it were aprize. “We won!”
Jarvaazim opened his mouth to argue, but Maraas tugged himdown again, chuckling, keeping his voice low. “Ah, c’mon… let the kid have it.”He released Jarvaazim and sat up, brushing the snow off his coat and raisinghis hands. “All right, all right! You win – we surrender,” he declared loudly,then let out a melodramatic sigh. “Alas. It was a hard battle, but it seems FortHorny has fallen.”
“Oh now that’sdisgusting,” Cyrus declared, wrinkling his nose. “Really?”
“First order of business: renaming Fort Horny,” Ralon announced with a snort of laughter. Darren justblinked, blue eyes flicking between his squadmates and the pair of Vashoth.
“I don’t get it. What’s wrong? It makes sense.” He gesturedwith his melty snowball to Maraas and Jarvaazim. “They both have horns.”
Laughing, Maraas hauled himself to his feet then reachedout, ruffling Darren’s messy blond hair, earning a squeak from the boy. “That’sright. We sure do. Keep up the good work, kid.”
Darren pouted, sensing there was something he was missing,and Jarvaazim stepped forward, draping an arm around Maraas’ shoulders. “Cyrus’llexplain it to ye after, lad,” he declared, then winked at the man in question,whose expression had gone from amused to horrified in a matter of seconds.
“Like hell I will! Ralon, you do it.”
“Whoa, hey, you heard the big guy – it’s your job!”
“This isn’t fair! Can someone please just tell me what I’mmissing? What’s wrong with the name?”
Laughing, Maraas and Jarvaazim exited their fort to the sound of the trio bickering, acceptingdefeat with a surprising amount of grace. “Can’t believe we lost to that lot,”Jarvaazim grumbled as they wandered off towards the tavern, thoughts of thewaiting fire all too alluring. Maraas just hummed, nodding, content with hisarm wrapped around the pirate’s waist.
“Ah, they fought well,” he said. Then, he started to chuckle.Jarvaazim cocked his head, bemused as he regarded Maraas.
“What?” He frowned, then added accusingly. “What did you do?”
“You know that mound of snow at the centre of the fort?”
“Aye. The one you told me not t’ touch.”
Maraas glanced across, eyes glinting, and grinned a wickedgrin. “Let’s just say… I cleaned out thestables earlier.” He gave Jarvaazim a knowing look, then burst intolaughter when he saw the telltale look of horror sweep over the pirate’s face.
“Oh now that’sdisgusting,” he declared, then snorted despite himself. “Well… they’re in for anasty surprise when they go digging around in it.”
Chuckling to himself, Maraas reached out, shoving open thedoor to the tavern as they arrived.
“And that, my handsome sea-loving friend, is why you never underestimate your enemy.”
A sneaky little fic for @taerellavellan, featuring her handsome pirate Jarvaazim and my Maraas Adaar! Also contains a brief cameo from Hanin >.>
Approx 2200 words, most under the cut <3
Maraas snorted as he watched Hanin reel back, turning away from his opponent, his free hand going to his eyes in a sharp, indignant gesture born of shock and irritation. A cloud of dirt still hung conspicuously in the air like a bad thief taking too long to snatch the trinkets off a shopkeeper’s table. Beneath the cloud, bare-chested and gleaming with sweat, crouched Jarvaazim. He wore his favourite accessory proudly on his face; a shit-eating grin. The red paint across his eyes and lining his chin gave off the vague impression of a skull. Well, from a distance. If Maraas tilted his head. And squinted. Which he did, determined to prove his own theory, but was sadly left unsatisfied.
From out on the training field some heated words were exchanged between the pair of sparring men, Hanin furiously blinking out the grit that had been so unceremoniously tossed at his face, Jarvaazim dusting off his hands in an aloof yet threatening manner that suggested he would happily do it again. Maraas watched, amused, as the pair got closer to each other, their simmering disagreement slowly beginning to boil into a full-blown argument, and wondered how long it would take for them to either kill each other or hire someone clandestine to do the job for them.
Hell, maybe they’ll hire me, he mused, fingers thrumming absently against the outer fence of the training field. Although that would be pretty awkward, all things considered, with Hanin being a buddy of his current employer and Jarvaazim being… well...
Maraas was clever in a sense. He’d positioned himself close enough to observe the two fighting men, but far enough away to avoid the attentions of some of the more eagre recruits that dotted the field, practicing forms or sparring for themselves. However, his distance was not proving conducive to eavesdropping, and seeing the colour rising to Hanin’s face at Jarvaazim’s seeming dismissal of his grievances was simply too much for Maraas to resist. With a put-upon sigh, he levered himself off the fence then hopped over it with ease. It had not, after all, been constructed with a nearly seven foot Vashoth in mind. It was like stepping over a chair.
Unfortunately, Maraas’ expedition into the dust-churning sea of practicing soldiers was for nought. He had barely taken a few steps into the training field before Hanin turned and stalked away, stiff-backed and royally pissed off. Jarvaazim watched the elven warrior go, arms folded across his chest, a strange mixture of satisfaction and frustration mingling on his handsome face. Whatever their argument had been, Jarvaazim had come out on top, but something about the whole experience had proven, well, off-putting. It was like winning a prize, but he prize was an old pair of smalls from an anonymous benefactor. Sure, you still won, but it wasn’t exactly a satisfying victory.
Maraas announced his presence with a low whistle, prompting Jarvaazim to turn his attention away from Hanin’s receding form. “Trouble in paradise?” Maraas asked lightly, then smirked as the currently landlocked pirate let out a short yet emphatic snort.
“Tch. Fundamental differences. Not my fault he canna see the difference between a proper fight an’ his fancy sparrin’.” Jarvaazim shook his head, reaching up to swipe tersely at the sweat on his brow. “Shit, toss a bit o’ dirt in his face an’ he just about bursts a fuckin’ vessel.”
“Yeah, seemed like that didn’t go down too well, huh?” Maraas acknowledged with a chuckle. “Shit, look at him. He’s storming off like a thundercloud.”
In the distance Hanin shoved his way out the gate, the wooden hinges screeching in poorly-oiled protest at the rough treatment. Jarvaazim just huffed and turned his back on the elven man, those sharp lavender eyes focusing on Maraas with a distinct edge of curiosity.
“What’re ye doin’ out in the sparrin’ field, anyway? Not really your sort of haunt, far as I ken.”
Maraas shrugged absently, the sound of training recruits filling the short silence with the clattering of wooden weapons and grunts of exertion. “Hey, I just came for the show. Word always gets around when you or Hanin step into the ring. Twice as fast if it’s both of you at once.”
“Huh.” Jarvaazim’s mouth curved into an almost satisfied smirk, which didn’t really surprise Maraas in the slightest. He seemed like the kind of man who liked an audience, especially if he was delivering a lesson. “Dinna suppose you’re keen on a round or two yourself, Little Rock?”
Cocking an eyebrow, Maraas looked down at Jarvaazim. Just a bit. It was, however, enough to convey his point pretty clearly. The white-haired Vashoth stood about an inch shorter than Maraas, and Maraas intended to never let him forget it.
“Oh well, I would, but you know…”
They met each other’s gaze, Maraas’ bright with amusement, Jarvaazim’s hovering somewhere between fondness and exasperation.
“Bad back,” they chorused, then broke into a pair of stupid grins that would have looked far more at home on a couple of Chantry boys dodging afternoon lessons. Shaking his head again, Jarvaazim gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. To what, Maraas had no idea. Until the man spoke, that is.
“Back t’ the Rest, then?” he asked. Maraas gave an amicable shrug and fell into step beside Jarvaazim as they walked towards the nearby fence. Draped over one of the posts was the man’s coat, which Jarvaazim had clearly elected to go without for his little bout with Hanin. Fair enough, Maraas thought, feeling his own sweat starting to bead beneath the surprisingly hot midday sun. Damn, watching all that fighting was hard work…
“So, how’s the old man?” Maraas asked casually as Jarvaazim plucked his coat off the fence and shook it out, churning a cloud of fine dirt into the air from the force of the motion. “Samuel, right?”
There was an almost wary edge to Jarvaazim’s reply, but Maraas decided to let it slide. It was obvious he cared about the man, after all. They’d arrived together, but Maraas hadn’t had a chance to meet him. Apparently he had been in pretty bad shape.
“Still recoverin’,” Jarvaazim said eventually, sliding the coat over his muscled form. There was barely any point in wearing it, really; he always left it wide open to display a generous amount of torso. Not that Maraas was complaining, of course. “Mountain cold ain’t what either of us are used to. Dinna exactly agree with him,” the pirate continued, although his voice had lost a measure of its easy, charming lilt. “Healer’s say he’s doin’ well enough, aye, but it gets harder t’ recover, the more years a man has on him. An’ Samuel?” He gave a soft snort, although it lacked his usual humour. “Well… he’s a tough old bastard, but he’s got himself a fair share o’ those.”
“That he does. But hey, if he’s even half as stubborn as you...” Maraas reached out and placed a firm hand on Jarvaazim’s shoulder. The other Vashoth paused mid-reach for his chain, which was still hooked over the fence post, and cast a perplexed glance across at Maraas, eyes flicking from his face to the hand resting on his shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” Maraas continued reassuringly, offering a gentle squeeze. “Shit, if anywhere has an unusual amount of well-trained healers, it’s the Inquisition. At least, you’d want to hope so, what with demons tearing new holes in people every other day. I hear Tuesday's are flat-out.”
That wrung an amused bark of laughter from Jarvaazim’s throat. The pirate hesitated, then reached up, closing a hand over the top of Maraas’ and returning the mercenary’s reassuring grip. “Aye, well… here’s t’ hopin’.” He sighed tightly, but seemed to release his troubled air along with the breath, forcing it out and away. He shrugged off Maraas’ hand absently, his gaze distant for a moment. Thoughtful.
Probably should have kept my mouth shut, Maraas thought with a slight twist of regret, but it was only slight. A part of him was convinced it was worth it - that it was important to at least ask. It was just the two of them – Jarvaazim and Samuel – who had arrived at Skyhold, after all. Maraas had heard the ruckus Jarvaazim had made demanding a healer for the old man. It was obvious he had been far more than just worried about him. A few weeks had passed since then, sure, but…
Well, if Maraas had been in Jarvaazim’s place, he figured it would be nice to not feel like the only one who gave a shit.
Moving towards the fence, Maraas reached out and drew the loops of chain up and over the post, the metal sliding softly along the wood as he lifted them free. Turning, he held it out with a half-smile, as if to entice the pirate with an offer of… well, his own possession. Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best way to lighten the mood, but it was all Maraas had on hand and he was nothing if not resourceful. At the sound of the jingling metal, Jarvaazim’s eyes seemed to refocus and he looked at the necklace proffered before him. Slowly, almost sceptically, he arched a pale eyebrow.
“That your idea of a gift?” he asked with a disbelieving laugh. “My own property?”
Maraas shrugged, “Well, it’s a pretty smart gift, if you think about it.” He smirked. “No loss on my end if you don’t take it.”
He jostled the chain again, the musical sound of metal on metal strangely discordant when combined with the harsher noises of the training field. Jarvaazim eyed him for a long moment, but Maraas jingled the chain again and he succumbed with an amused huff, reaching out to take the golden necklace. Maraas watched in quiet appreciation as the pirate navigated it over his horns with surprising deftness, looping it a few times, the ease with which he performed the movements about as taxing as breathing.
“You’d make a fine enough pirate, y’know,” Jarvaazim informed him, mouth sharpening into a crooked smile. “What with all your takin’ of other people’s things and sellin’ them back.”
“Ah well, you know how it is. People are always underestimating us mercenaries.” Maraas laughed and together they began to stroll towards the far edge of the training field, neither Vashoth bothering to navigate around the sparring recruits. They were more than happy to scuttle out of their way without any real prompting after all which, while amusing, left Maraas with a strange sense of unease in his gut. They didn’t really belong here, even if they wore the uniform and fought under the same banner. Something would always feel… off. Off in a way Maraas had never felt with the Valo-Kas. Off in a way he doubted Jarvaazim had felt when he was out at sea, striding the decks of his ship. Absent-mindedly, Maraas stepped over the fence again, a part of him glad to be rid of the ever-present cloud of churned-up dust.
“Drink’s on you, aye?” Jarvaazim said him as he, too, navigated the fence with ease, using a hand to swing himself over it with agility Maraas just couldn’t be bothered to muster. “For refusin’ to spar. Consider it your penance.”
Maraas feigned insult as they continued on their way to the Herald’s Rest, boots scuffing along the cobblestones. “Hey, I got you a present, remember? Pretty sure you’re the one who owes a drink, Cuddles.”
Jarvaazim visibly stiffened at the nickname, bestowed upon him by a certain hairy-chested dwarf, then shot Maraas with a sidelong glance as sharp as any arrow. “Ye won’t be callin’ me Cuddles for long, Little Rock,” he said, drawing out his own version of Maraas’ nickname pointedly. “Not unless your keen t’ join Samuel at the healer’s tent, ye ken?”
It was a threat… but it also wasn’t. Maraas laughed, throwing back his head, pleased that he’d managed to draw out Jarvaazim’s dagger-sharp wit again. Evoking his nickname tended to do that, although now a part of Maraas was beginning to think the pirate was just playing along for his benefit. “Alright, alright, fine! First round’s on me,” Maraas conceded, hands raised in mock defeat. He paused, then slid Jarvaazim a sly glance. “But if you think you’re getting the good stuff, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Ha! Tight-ass,” Jarvaazim replied, laughing and reaching out to slap Maraas on the back good-naturedly. Maraas snorted then glanced ahead, the Herald’s Rest finally coming in to view as they climbed the last few steps from the lower courtyard.
“Hey, I pride myself on that, you know,” he informed Jarvaazim casually, then slapped his own rear to solidify his point. “Why do you think the hairy dwarf calls me Rock?”
“Well, I s’pose he is at arse height,” Jarvaazim conceded, then shrugged, a devious glint sparking behind his eyes. “Though I just figured it was on account of ye havin’ rocks for brains.”
“Ouch,” Maraas cried, flinching for effect. “Right, okay, that’s two rounds from you now! For hurting my gentle feelings.”
Jarvaazim seemed to consider that for a moment, as if weighing up whether or not to argue the point. However, after barely a few seconds, he caught Maraas’ gaze and relaxed into a satisfied grin.
