"Can we..." Leliana trails off, shaking her head. "We can talk about the Fade later." There is a certainty in her voice that doesn't entirely match the questioning in her gaze, the request that it carries rather than an instruction. "It was horrifying," is something she does allow, after a pause, allowing Morrigan something, at least. "We couldn't use our crystals."

I tried is arguably something she should volunteer, but does not, and there is a part of her that dreads she will latch onto the chance to talk about something that isn't them, that nebulous, invasive thing.

Morrigan coming to meet her around the desk is a relief, simply put, but it is also terrifying. The teasing is terrifying, the lightness with which it seems Morrigan can approach this, and Leliana looks up sharply with the comment about sharp things, even as her fingers lightly brush against Morrigan's (so much as a hand can brush another when it is gloved, but even so.) It seems an odd contrast to words that compare Leliana to a brandished knife, and yet both things are irrefutable true, real.

I am driven to distraction, says she. Leliana's eyes slip shut, her breath a single slow shudder as she leans forward to rest her forehead against Morrigan's. She feels undone, uncertain how to proceed, and there are few things she hates more than that, even as something in this admission feels like a relief.