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Marina Hawke considered herself the best at hiding, but Isabela certainly gave her a run for her money.
"Hawke," That familiar velvety, generally sardonic voice called, almost mockingly but never quite so, "Up here."
So she looked up. “How do you even get up there?”
Isabela smirked as she swooped down, gracefully wrapping an around around the mage’s shoulder, “I’m an exceptionally good climber, you know.”
Marina leaned into the warm body at her side, “Used to climb up onto the cabinets,” when the Templars visited. “But, Maker, I got nothing on you.”
Isabela wriggled free, almost like a dance before her eyes, “Don’t put yourself down too much, sweetling. Not everyone can be this spry.”
She rolled her eyes as she turned to scan the room, “Yeah, yeah. Well, now it’s my turn to hide, so we’ll see if you can find me.”
She glanced back to make sure Isabela had her eyes closed before moving on, looking around the room to see where she might find a nice spot. The ceiling? Not even in her dreams. The bed? Too…desperate.
Ah! There!
By the time Isabela opened her eyes, Hawke had stolen away to behind the divider, nestled between a dresser and the wall her shoulder leaned against.
"Oh, Haaawwke," Isabela said aloud, "Wherever you are… I shall…”
Hawke giggled, hunched over in her spot as she was. Isabela was certainly going to have tro-
Warm breath at her ear, she shivered, yielding so easily to the arms wrapped around her, breasts against her back.
"Find you," Isabela finished, cutting off the strings of Marina’s robes with a knife, and, somehow, Hawke didn’t even care that she lost.