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“You stare.”
Inara blinked fast. She had indeed been staring, and being caught made her cheeks flood hot with blush.
“Have I done something to draw some disapproval, hm?” Morrigan hummed with her golden eyes glittering with disapproval of her own.
Inara’s mouth was dry. She tried to swallow anyway, and the pulse of her throat was tense and uncomfortable. Her fingers tangled in the dry, scratchy grass that they had settled in to rest, and pulled out a chunk of it, with its root. The dirt rained down on her knee before she managed to toss the clump away.
“No,” she said. “You’re just uh…”
She brushed at her knee, feeling stupid and awkward.
“What?” Morrigan pressed, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the Warden down the length of her nose hawkishly.
“Really pretty.”
That, it seemed, Morrigan did not expect. Perhaps in her mind she was armoring herself, guarding, preparing for every possible barb and insult that the Grey Warden could throw at her. But a compliment, that seemed to throw her off.
“I– thank you,” Morrigan stumbled, her face crunching as if in question.
And even that was beautiful. Everything about her – her fine features, her high cheek bones and pointed nose and chin, the makeup that adorned her eyes and lips, the clothes that hung off her frame and accentuated her curves… everything about her was pleasing.
“I’m sure you knew that,” Inara guffawed, her stuttered breath coming out of her breath as an ugly snort that made her feel even more foolish as blush poured down her cheeks, down her throat. “I just– I don’t know. You’re– different pretty. It’s… I like it.”
Morrigan’s brow knitted together.
“You are an odd woman,” she said.
“Is it odd?” Inara blinked. “To find you beautiful?”
Morrigan’s head bowed as she laughed softly.
“For men, certainly not. They are easy creatures to beguile. Most women I met before would instead resent me for the way that their husbands’ eyes lingered upon me, however,” she said.
“I don’t have a husband,” Inara supplied, her eyebrows raising. “Do you… prefer the attention of men, then? You… don’t seem to care for them much. When you talk.”
Morrigan’s head tilted at her, as if the question that she asked was a queer one. Her golden eyes blinked, and the silence between her question and its answer made Inara’s heart creep into her throat.
“What else is there?” she huffed, looking mildly annoyed.
“Well the uh… interest of women.”
“That is not something I have ever thought on before,” Morrigan answered, her dark lips pursing for a moment before her gaze swept once more over Inara. “Why do you ask?”
Morrigan’s gaze fixed on her face, and Inara’s voice hid. She opened her lips to speak, but nothing came out for several long, torturous moments. Inara cleared her throat.
“No reason,” she said, sinking back into the grass as if she were melting.