Doom Upon All The World

Chapter 8: Preparations

She was frantic. Running back and forth around the room, she seemed unable to focus on one task but determined to achieve one goal. Solas watched as she scurried from one side of the house to the other cleaning and organizing, mumbling to herself, cursing the fact that she didn't start sooner. There was a fierce look of stubbornness and tenacity in her fascinating green eyes. Written across the rest of her face was regret and fatigue. She'd been working herself silly since she woke this morning. She did not ask for help, though that did not stop him or the children from doing so.

She was all over the place. One minute she'd be sweeping the floors, the next she'd be alphabetizing the bookshelves. From the sitting room, Solas could hear the children above, scrambling to clean the study and training room, lest they want to feel their mother's wrath. They were eager to help her make preparations for dinner but she was so stressed and panicked that she rather they stayed upstairs and cleaned their rooms. Nicolynn and Mythalus were not uncleanly children but there was a sense of disorganization brought to one's attention when observing their living space. Solas stood by the fire place in the sitting room, watching her closely. She'd told him she had no more work for him and thanked him for his help but that was obviously not the truth. She was still cleaning which meant there was more to be done. She liked to be stubborn. She wouldn't be herself if she wasn't so.

Solas snickered to himself as she passed by him with a set of plates and carried them to the dinning room. She didn't even look at him as she went. He didn't say anything, he just admired her. He loved how determined she was. It was a stunning quality he had never seen so beautifully exposed in another being. Her long dark hair hung free behind her back, swaying as she moved through the house. It had grown incredibly since the Inquisition. It had always been long but it was well past her backside now. He loved its length, its slight wave, its perfect rich color. He loved the feel of it beneath his hands, the sturdiness of it intwined in his fingers. Two thick strands laid over her shoulders on either side and small portions were pulled away from her face to form braids that met in the middle at the back of her head.

It draped just above the end of her tunic. She wore dark trousers underneath a dark maroon tunic. It buttoned down the middle and hugged her slim figure, outlining the defined curve of her hips. The red material made her look more pale than she actually was but it was thick and kept her warm when he was not close enough to do so himself. She was so beautiful but that look on her face, that tired, concerned look, distracted him from her immense gorgeousness. He found inside himself the sudden urge to take it away. She rushed past him again, on her way back to the kitchen for more plates. Solas grabbed her by the wrist and she nearly jumped at his presence.

She hadn't been paying attention and missed him completely. Maeve wanted nothing more than to just relax in his arms for a moment. She had spent plenty of time in his embrace these last days and there was so much work to do now, she couldn't afford to give in again. Still, she could not help the smile that clung to her lips as he pulled her in. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her closer but the other hand held close to her face, brushing her dark hair behind her pointed ears. Slowly, she inched towards him, his hand cradling her cheek as his mouth drew her in. His lips were soft and warm and inviting. He went about kissing her with delicacy and tenderness, only teasing slightly, giving her just enough to make her want more.

She felt the need in her gut spark to life, making her shudder in protest. She had to restrain herself. She had things to do. Nevertheless, her hands found their way to his hips and traveled up his back under the thin material of his shirt. His skin was smooth and hot beneath her hands. It felt like the warm surface of a tempered blade only fleshy and alive in her hands. He stepped back only a little and bumped into the mantel above the fire place. This resulted in Maeve giving a sharp chuckle and smiling against his mouth. He let the grin sneak onto his as well and take over his expression. He loved that she could make him smile this way.