"Oh, do hush your grumbling. I'm nearly done, you great big baby."
Trisha ducks her head to hide her smile as Alistair shoots her an affronted look, pouting petulantly as she tends to his wound. She tuts and dips her waterskin against the rag once more, wiping the excess dirt from the gash along Alistair's forearm.
"You don't have to enjoy this so much," he gripes, grimacing at the sting. "Some healer you are. Shouldn't you be all… you know, delicate? Tender? Like… uh, a feathery… fluffy… marshmallow. Thingy."
The grin bubbles over as Trisha giggles, patting the cut dry before setting her work aside. "Ah, yes. The famed 'feathery fluffy marshmallow' technique. A most revered school of healing. How had I not considered that before?"
He sticks his lower lip out. "Oh, sure, mock the injured man. See if I don't remember this next time you need saving from a band of marauding trees. 'Oh no! The branches are everywhere! Whatever shall I do without a big, strong, dashing hero to—ow, hey!"
She presses the tip of her finger onto his nose and pushes up until his head tilts back. "Hold still," she admonishes. Her other hand glows blue with a soft healing light, fingertips hovering just over his skin in preparation for the spell. "This is a rather nasty cut you have here. It will scar if I'm not very, very careful. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
He actually considers it. "…What are your thoughts on battle scars?"
"Dear Maker. Just be still, Alistair. Compassion is a very busy spirit, I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate being summoned twice over for a silly little scrape like this one."
He sighs and settles, his gaze wary as she works. Spirit healing is still a foreign magic to him, she knows. A sentiment likely born from the distrust of the Chantry, though Alistair had never vocalized such an opinion aloud. It's a reasonable fear, she supposes, coming from a Templar. Greagoir never did approve of Irving's clearance for her studies. We're meant to combat the arts that demons spread, the Knight-Commander would argue everytime Irving brought his apprentice to the Templars' medical wing, not propagate their foul magic ourselves.
What an odd thought, to be afraid of something as gentle and nurturing as the assistance of Compassion. Trisha can feel the spirit hovering in her periphery, her magic flowing through the Fade like a gentle wave into Trisha's hand, soothing away the hurts. Do the Templars also fear the warmth of an open flame when it's cold in winter, simply because it can grow into a wildfire in the summer? She supposes they must. What a tragic way to see the world.
The spirit fades as she finishes the last stitch in the wound. Trisha smiles, shutting her eyes and clasping her hands in a silent gesture of gratitude. A brief burst of warmth flutters against her skin in reply. When she opens them again, it's to Alistair watching her, his gaze soft.
"What?"
He blinks and glances away. "Nothing. It's just…" He shakes his head and clears his throat, his ears pinkening. "Your magic is very… different. That's all."
She glances at him from beneath her bangs and smiles, taking his healed forearm and turning it for inspection. The skin is pink and raw, the faintest hint of a white scar marring his complexion—Maker help her, but she tried to warn him—but the gash is sealed, good as new. "Different bad?" she asks. Alistair's head snaps up to stare at her incredulously.
"Good! Good. Very good. You're very good—very good at magic, obviously—not that you're not good, of course. I mean. Ah…" He trails off with a sigh, his shoulders hunching in embarrassment, and Trisha has to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. "I think I'll go… dig a hole. And then bury myself in it, thank you."
She takes pity on him and lifts his hand to her lips. A light brush, barely a whisper against his skin. Still, Alistair stiffens, sucking in a startled breath as Trisha kisses his palm. His fingers curl inward instinctively to brush her jaw, and when he meets her eyes again, she smiles and pecks the tip of his thumb. "You're very good, too, Alistair. I thank you for being such a brave patient."
A goofy grin breaks out over his features. Alistair lifts his other hand to cup hers and brushes a kiss of his own against the back of it, lingering a second longer than she had. His voice, when he speaks, is a murmur of soft sincerity, no trace of the bumbling awkwardness from before. "It is easy to be brave around you, my lady."
3. What is something that always reminds them of their partner(s)?
Seeing young couples being affectionate in public makes Trisha extremely homesick and nostalgic for a time when they were still young and the whole romance was just so new and exciting. It reminds her so much of how they were before that it almost feels like an open attack on her emotions. Reminder of innocence lost you know. Roses and little things carved out of wood remind her of him too. She still has a habit of picking up statuettes on the road for him, even if she knows it'll be a looong while before she sees him again. It's just something that comes naturally to her.
9. ls there anyone in their life that disapproves of the relationship?
The First Warden fucking hates it LOL Trisha doesn't at all make it a secret that everything she does is out of love and devotion for Alistair and that he will Always come before the Wardens. Can't break it up either. 1) She'll just go off the grid again 2) She's his most loyal and powerful Warden 3) That Is The Hero Of Fhunkcking Fereldan. In my canon it's kind of this open secret that Trisha is the real head of the Wardens and the First Warden's authority only exists because she hates the politics side of it and doesn't care enough to challenge him. Whenever she makes an appearance at Weisshaupt literally everything suddenly starts running around her. Fuck that lady and her stupid husband.
omg. all of them. you're so good to me ❤️ (literally blows up)
da ship questionnaire
19. ls there a task that they do not trust their partner(s) to do? Why?
alistair's cooking has quite literally poisoned her once before. you can blame it on a weakened immune system caused by being indoors for an extended period of time all you want the point is he is literally never allowed near a gotdam pot ever again. Trisha is also never allowed to leave his sight unless he knows damn well she actually knows where the hell she's going and isn't just wandering around like a lost toddler at the market
21. Would they be able to functionally cook a meal together? What would they make? Would it turn out well?
oh. this is awkward.
well anyways that stew is going to be 90% aged cheese and by aged i mean alistair just found it in the bottom of his pack and by stew i mean magical radioactive sludge yum yum bon appetit
3. What is something that always reminds them of their partner(s)?
Answered here ^_^
17. What did they do would they want for a wedding ceremony? Would it be a large occasion, a simple one, or would they elope?
Giant smoldering crater in the room aside this is the daughter of Malcolm and Leandra there's no way these two aren't running off to some random corner of the world and immediately starting a new life together without so much as a note explaining where the hell they went.
1. Have they met their partner's loved ones?
okay no but literally could you imagine. hey keeper. this is my boyfriend. please don't talk to him about our culture like at all i mean literally in any shape or form. actually just don't talk to him maybe just stare at each other from a safe-ish distance. glad to be home btw
13. How do they comfort or reassure one another?
Elnora's kind of got this optimistic yet still practical approach to most things in life which I think is a crazy breath of fresh air for Solas. If he's having one of his weird cryptic episodes of existential guilt she'll usually just pull him aside and start asking about his dreams or something else equally mundane but still close to his heart. It's not that she's trying to change the subject either. She finds subtle ways to spin it towards an encouraging angle, like if his dream involved someone's memory of the Blight she's like. wow. crazy how that shit like. ended though right. and now we have people rebuilding and prospering on the land that used to be ravaged by taint. awesome how people can overcome and thrive and make something good out of tragedy like that right.
Solas is more private in nature so his methods I think are quieter. He lets her hang around in the rotunda while he paints to decompress from a long day, maybe ask an innocent question or two about what happened to set her off and just listen. There's something very soothing about watching him work too that I think calms her down — at a certain point she wonders if he's using magic. He also tells her stories to help distract and entertain her, and if(when) she falls asleep on his couch he'll maaaybe take a glance at her dreams to ensure they aren't troubling.
