Usually, when a particular warrior wanted to bathe, the thirty-five year old had a private tub that could be warmed to her particular tastes. Joined with a decent enough mead, it was relaxing enough to wash away all the stress of the world's weight that constantly clung to the seventy-eighth in line for the Nevarran throne. One quiet dip into an embracing washtub was enough to cleanse her muscles of their stiff aches and loosen her mind from its twisted coils; not entirely, of course - not with a certain Dwarf constantly fluttering in the back of her mind - but enough to give her the facade of complete, peaceful bliss. But that was usually... This wasn't one of those few luxurious times where Cassandra could strip her armor and melt away in her solitude - far away from their Inquisitor's influencing gaze.
Much like the main rift they had accomplished in sealing before Haven's destruction, it was just as important for the Inquisition - mainly its Inquisitor - to seal the smaller tears into the fade. No one had put their faith entirely in the Inquisition yet, and everyone was currently watching to see what their banners were up to. It helped that they were literally the only force capable of sealing these anomalies, but it didn't make it any less physically straining. And the Hinterlands did little to reward them with shade or continuously cool breezes. Mix that with the exertion of fighting off demons, and it left Cassandra with a much needed bout of release.
After making the suggestion they stop to set up camp near the Upper Lake, wholeheartedly expecting no one else to take the same train of thought and utilize the lake relatively close by. Not that the hazel-eyed woman had paid too much attention after claiming a tent for herself, already feeling the after effects from battle wearing her down, both physically and mentally. With the added sexual frustration that had been building up for months now, it was a wonder how Cassandra didn't end up punching every little thing that disturbed her in any sense (although Varric was always an option).
Retrieving a dry wrap and her sword, Cassandra abandoned her shield within her tent to make her way up the hill to the lake above. Little did she know, Einar had beaten her to it - and it wasn't until the warrior stripped behind a tree and a few shapely rocks that the thirty-five year old took any notice of the dwarf. Instantly, her eyebrows pinched together in annoyance, and a scoff barely released from the back of her throat. At first, as she leaned her weight into the rock in front of her, barely covering little of her exposed chest, her anger almost took control and she damn near blew her cover. But the longer her eyes peered towards the dwarf, the more her thighs started to slightly shift against one another.
He had always made his interest known - at least, from the types of conversations she'd caught herself falling into with him, that's the impression he gave. But the former Right Hand had never allowed herself to invest heavily into the topics.. or him, for that matter. Despite her abrasive refusals, or obvious remarks about keeping a solid focus on the Inquisition and its progress - not what was between the Inquisitor's legs - it didn't stop her from tossing in her cot, alone, with nothing but the blacksmith anvils below her loft to keep her warm. In fact, the more she tried to escape his gaze, the more she felt herself yearning for it to land on her.
Moments passed, and the warrior couldn't separate her eyes from the sight in front of them. It took all of her strength to inhale as deep as possible through her nose and hold the breath as Cassandra forced her way from behind the structures. Coyly, the woman acted as though she hadn't seen him, knowing full well that she could use the nearby waterfall as an excuse for her senses being 'delayed'. As she slowly made her way to the water's edge, and descended within the cool liquid, the breath he warrior had been holding escaped in a slightly shocked groan. The temperature difference on her womanhood was enough to make her teeth suck in her bottom lip, and without thinking, her hazel eyes instantly shifted to lock onto the dwarf she'd been intent on pretending to wasn't there. "Dammit.."<|im_end|>
The long day had worn on the former mercenary turned Inquisitor, the efforts of sealing rifts and battling the Fade spawned horrors that came through them were beginning to wear on him. Einar had lived on the surface for over thirty years and had seen his fair share of combat since then and before he left the Stone. He had fought battles against darkspawn in the Deep Roads, Orlesian chevaliers to help Ferelden gain its independence, Templars to help mages that had hired him escape from the Kirkwall Circle and more. But none of those battles had prepared him for the duty that he now found thrust upon him. Every moment of every day the pain of the Anchor was there, throbbing, reminding him of his "duty" to the world. Sure the Anchor was no longer killing him, but it had forced him into a position of servitude more or less. Needless to say, Einar was slightly bitter about the situation, but what was a dwarf to do? He had not shared those feelings with any of his companions, instead opting to exude a sense of determination and stoic resolve. But in his heart of hearts he often wondered what he had done to deserve the wrath of the gods and the Stone, to be cursed and called Inquisitor.
Such thoughts had flown through Einar's mind briefly as he and his companions settled into the camp near the Upper Lake, but he had pushed them away. The day had been hard enough and he realized that he should not allow himself to wallow in feelings of self doubt and pity. The dwarf had quickly claimed a tent that was further toward the edge of the camp, preferring a bit of solitude for the time being. There he had set about removing his Inquisition scout armor, which he preferred to wear. If he had learned one thing as his years as a mercenary it had been that a leader should not think himself above those he lead, so he wore the armor of the soldiers he commanded, or at least it appeared to be the same. In truth the armor had been altered a fair bit, having had magically enhancements worked into the metal and fabrics that the armor was composed of. The armor had kept Einar safe so far and had helped to endear him to the troops under his command. But as he peeled it off of himself all he could do at the time was sigh, thankful to be free of its weight for a time. His body was covered in sweat and a bit of blood, his undercoat saturated through with it. He had been wounded more than a few times that day, but the magical mending talents of Vivienne had worked wonders, as was usual. Setting his armor aside, the Inquisitor took a moment to stretch, then quickly stripped down to only his underclothes.
Einar's gaze briefly went to the weapons that he had carried into the tent with him; a sword known as a falcata that was favored by many in Antiva, two throwing axes and a blade of evlen make that craved blood, or at least it seemed to. He considered them, then went over and grabbed his two throwing axes, wanting to not be entirely without some form of protection where he was going. Thus armed and barely clothed, the Inquisitor slipped out the back of his tent and made his way up towards the lake without alerting anyone to his departure.
The dwarf made his way up to the lake, stripping entirely by the shore and leaving his weapons near a couple of boulders with his clothes. As he slipped into the water a content sigh escaped him. The water was cool and refreshing, exactly what Einar needed. He dove under for a moment, then popped up, loving the feel of the water sliding through his copper blond hair and close cropped beard. He was enjoying himself so much that he almost did not notice the arrival of a certain brunette Navarran. He initially caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye as she leaned against the rocks, but he pretended not to notice. Instead, curious to see what she would do, he moved over to a shallower part of the lake so he was only waist deep. He reached up then, pretending to stretch. Einar was still doing so when she slipped out from behind the rocks... naked. His blue-green eyes widened for a moment as he watched her discreetly, already feeling a stirring down below. He turned his gaze forward for a moment, wondering what game she was playing, doing his best to pretend she was not there. However the perfect opportunity presented itself as he heard her cuss. Acting startled, Einar turned quickly, then paused, smiling. "Well, I was not expecting company... but I certainly don't mind!" the dwarf declared in his deep, mellow voice. Grinning he let his eyes drink in the sight of her for a moment before he took a step towards her. "It has been a long day and I think we could both use a little distraction from our worries. Don't you Cassandra?"<|im_end|>