❦ Sweet Maker, I had to.
Elian could have sworn he heard Talia calling his name from all the way down the hall. He peeked out into the hallway of the little inn, looking around to be sure, and yes - it was her voice, calling for him, calling for help. His heart froze and he dropped his book, sprinting to her door and throwing it open, expecting to find bandits inside, or perhaps monsters.
What he found instead was Talia most certainly in distress, though not the kind he had expected -- mostly-naked, chocolate-covered, and helpless-looking. His face turned red so quickly from the blood rushing to his head that he thought that he might faint. He slammed the door shut again, standing with his back to it, eyes wide, breathing heavy.
What in the blood of the Maker and Andraste...?!
Keep calm, he told himself. He struggled to breathe, he struggled to regain his composure. Surely there was some kind of... explanation for this. Surely there was some kind of reason behind it all.
He opened the door again and stepped inside, carefully choosing the areas of her body which he allowed his gaze to fall upon - mainly, her bound wrists, and her face. Everything in between was very, completely, strictly off limits.
"What are you doing?"