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Jan. 11th, 2015 05:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
witticasterIn the morning, Betrys rises first. She didn't expect to--Cullen seems the sort to be awake well before dawn--but perhaps he was as tired as he said the night before. It's rather pleasing, being the first up; she has plenty of time to look over the scars that mark him as a soldier. Now that he's finally out of all those layers of clothes, it would be a shame not to study what's been hiding beneath them all this time.
She doesn't get far, though. The state of his hair is so incredible that she bursts out laughing, hands flying up to her mouth to try and stifle it.
Cullen stirs, groaning when the pale, sharp sunlight hits his barely cracked eyes. "Wha...what is it?"
"It curls!" Even though she's gotten hold of herself, Betrys can't keep back the merriment in her voice. This was already promising to be one of the better mornings she'd spent at Skyhold, but the sight of him, groggy and mussed, puts it over the top.
He glances down towards his lap, brow furrowed. A gentle tug at a stray lock seems to clear things up. "Oh. Yes, uh. It waves, more like."
"Close enough." She runs her fingers through it, smiling at the way his expression softens at the corners of his eyes. So simple a thing, letting her hand slide over the little snarls he managed to acquire in half a night's sleep, and it puts him at ease. He isn't touched nearly as often as he should be. "Do you want to know what it looks like?"
"I can guess." Cullen reaches up and wraps a strand of her hair around his first finger; the smile forming at his mouth belies the grumpiness of his words. "I could ask the same of you, you know."
"You could," Betrys agrees, "but you're a gentleman. So you won't."
"No, I won't." He tilts his head under her palm, kissing her. One kiss begs another, a
She doesn't get far, though. The state of his hair is so incredible that she bursts out laughing, hands flying up to her mouth to try and stifle it.
Cullen stirs, groaning when the pale, sharp sunlight hits his barely cracked eyes. "Wha...what is it?"
"It curls!" Even though she's gotten hold of herself, Betrys can't keep back the merriment in her voice. This was already promising to be one of the better mornings she'd spent at Skyhold, but the sight of him, groggy and mussed, puts it over the top.
He glances down towards his lap, brow furrowed. A gentle tug at a stray lock seems to clear things up. "Oh. Yes, uh. It waves, more like."
"Close enough." She runs her fingers through it, smiling at the way his expression softens at the corners of his eyes. So simple a thing, letting her hand slide over the little snarls he managed to acquire in half a night's sleep, and it puts him at ease. He isn't touched nearly as often as he should be. "Do you want to know what it looks like?"
"I can guess." Cullen reaches up and wraps a strand of her hair around his first finger; the smile forming at his mouth belies the grumpiness of his words. "I could ask the same of you, you know."
"You could," Betrys agrees, "but you're a gentleman. So you won't."
"No, I won't." He tilts his head under her palm, kissing her. One kiss begs another, a