Morrigan's words are enough to make her eyes slip shut and leave her wanting just this, for a little longer. This space with just them and a window to forget the world outside. Her hands anchor more steadily, certainly, at Morrigan's hips, the warm heels of Leliana's palms pressing heavy against the crests of bone and muscle.
There's no breath of a word in response. It feels unnecessary, really, when instead she's able to lean into the kiss, dragging at Morrigan's lip with her teeth, slow and carefully and cautiously possessive--
-- and then a knock at the door comes.
"Lady Morrigan? I'm looking for Sister Nightingale. Rennard mentioned she'd come this way." A quiet voice with a Starkhaven accent and a somewhat apologetic tone, one who has been sent to deliver messages to Morrigan and who ferried chocolate spiders to her before.
Leliana's hands flex, grip hardened for the barest moment as she looks over her shoulder, utterly venomous, at the door. She is still silent, still does not speak, and very slowly turns to look back at Morrigan.
no subject
There's no breath of a word in response. It feels unnecessary, really, when instead she's able to lean into the kiss, dragging at Morrigan's lip with her teeth, slow and carefully and cautiously possessive--
-- and then a knock at the door comes.
"Lady Morrigan? I'm looking for Sister Nightingale. Rennard mentioned she'd come this way." A quiet voice with a Starkhaven accent and a somewhat apologetic tone, one who has been sent to deliver messages to Morrigan and who ferried chocolate spiders to her before.
Leliana's hands flex, grip hardened for the barest moment as she looks over her shoulder, utterly venomous, at the door. She is still silent, still does not speak, and very slowly turns to look back at Morrigan.
This is the worst.