Comfort

Her research hadn't progressed at all in a week. Her head hurt from constantly staring at text in the candlelight of her dark little home, her back aching from hunching over her desk. Merrill couldn't help but feel depressed at the whole situation.

But, thankfully, she knew just the woman that could help cheer her up even on her gloomiest of days.

"You behave now, ser Ducke," she said, giving the little mallard a pat on his little green head. He was fully grown at this point, but she was still of the firm belief he was little. He wasn't even two yet. Ducke gave a small quack, settling back down to sleep in his little baby bed Hawke had helped make once he outgrew his little crate home. The thought of Hawke made her smile a little, even if her ears were still droopy.

She grabbed her satchel from beside the door, placed it over her shoulder, and began the slow walk to Hightown.

Bodahn answered the door after a few knocks, informing her that Hawke was up in her bedroom. Now that Hawke and her were... intimate, she hardly spared a thought to coming here unannounced. She spent every night in Hawke's mansion. Well, all the nights she didn't spend passed out over her research, of course.

"Hawke?" She asked quietly, pushing open the warrior's bedroom door.

Hawke looked up from her book, face lighting up when she saw Merrill in the doorway. "Oh, hi!" She smiled, setting her book down on the floor and standing up. "Merrill, I..." She trailed off and her smile faded when she noticed Merrill's dour mood. "Is something wrong, dear?"

Merrill sighed, walking over to the towering human and wrapping her arms around the woman's muscular frame. Hawke held her tightly as she maneuvered the two back onto her fireside armchair.

"I'm wasting my time," she sighed, curling up small into Hawke's lap. Hawke gently stroked her hair. "I've hit a wall, Hawke. I haven't made any progress in over a week..."

"Merrill," Hawke cooed, resting her cheek on the top of Merrill's head. "These things take time, you know that." Merrill didn't bother replying. "You're working harder than anyone else ever could on that mirror. We'll go see if Xenon has any new tomes tomorrow, alright?" It was astounding, really, how accepting the warrior was of her blood magic and of the Black Emporium's wares.

"That's very kind of you, Hawke," Merrill said, quiet. "But I've spent so long in there and I can hardly find a thing I haven't read anymore."

Hawke shushed her, moving them both so that she could look into Merrill's eyes. "Hey," she said, blue eyes soft and caring as they so often were. "Why don't you and I just... cuddle a while?" Her cheeks got a little pink, her smile a little nervous. "To take your mind off all this research?" Hawke was cute when she stumbled over her words. She seemed to do that a lot around Merrill, who had felt like the biggest idiot in Thedas when she realized that Hawke had been actually pining after her. Merrill had thought she just overheated a lot.

"Alright," she said, mustering up a smile. "It is quite toasty here." The fireplace was full of burning logs, the heat radiating out and onto her body. The walk to Hawke's mansion had been a little long, and the night air was cool and damp and Lowtown smelt like seawater and urine.

"Is it too warm?"

Merrill shook her head no. "Quite perfect, actually." She rested her head on Hawke's chest, looking at the fireplace. She could tell Hawke was happy with her answer, her breathing calming a little and the hand on the small of her back resting gently. After a few moments, the silence became just a tad awkward. "Hawke?"

"Need something, Merrill?"

"Do you... do you think I'll ever fix that mirror?"

"You're the smartest person I know," Hawke said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Of course you will. Just... not tonight."

Merrill couldn't help but feel her heart swell at the praise. And Hawke was right. She'd fix it eventually, help her Clan, help restore the lost bits of history... but just not this instant. She looked up at Hawke, smiling as the warrior turned to silently deny the fact that she had been staring. Hawke was always doing that, denying that she was so... in love. Out of embarrassment, likely, shyness and an inability to fathom that someone would return affection in ways she was unused to. "Oh, Hawke, what would I do without you?" Merrill asked, shaking her head. "I'd be working myself to death, I think." She wrapped her arms around the back of Hawke's neck, snuggling as close as possible into the human's beautiful form. "And I'm pretty sure Kirkwall would be in flames..."

Hawke laughed softly at that, nodding. "Probably." She cupped Merrill's face in her hands. "And Isabela would have a lot less material to write friend fiction with," she added, rolling her pretty blue eyes.

Merrill giggled. "Oh, certainly!" Isabela had given her one of her lovely little friend fictions as a gift once. It was quite entertaining to read about herself as a character, all her little mannerisms exaggerated. Hawke's face had gone red when she found out what Merrill was reading. Merrill didn't see what was so embarrassing about a friend who liked to write about her friends, even if it was a little naughty most of the time. And a little inaccurate. Hawke wasn't nearly so bendy as Isabela imagined. Merrill felt her head be tilted up a little more, and excitedly pressed her lips into Hawke's. Hawke was an excellent kisser. All sweet and gentle and soft lips and human-y nose that poked Merrill in the cheek.

They spent what seemed like hours cuddling and drinking a bottle of wine Hawke had managed to get her mabari, Stubs, to go fetch. He was a very clever dog. They had to shoo him out eventually when they moved from the chair to the bed, Hawke hoisting the poor thing and all but plopping him outside the door. Merrill had said it was quite rude to toss him out without telling him why he had to leave, but Hawke insisted he was just looking to be annoying. That seemed to be in character, so Merrill hadn't pressed the issue of tossing dogs out of bedrooms any further.

And when she woke up the next morning in a tangle of muscled and lithe limbs, she had almost forgotten that she'd started her previous evening in such a dreadful mood. Hawke's cute little snores made negative thoughts vanish like magic. When it came to Merrill, Hawke was a far better mage.