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Fenris woke to a squeal pealing through the mansion. His muscles tensed as he took in his surroundings, the early morning sun lighting the room. A loud thud followed, accompanied by a loud, “Shit!”
Hawke. He rolled out of bed and rushed to the landing outside his room. The sun was not enough to illuminate the room and the damned mage didn’t think to light any candles. He could just make out the silhouette of Hawke flat on her back in the middle of the room.
“Hawke, is there a reason you’ve incapacitated yourself so early?”
The supine mage lifted an arm to release a small mage light in response. She was laying beside a large overturned bucket. A bundle of rags were on the floor at her feet, the whole area soaked with what he hoped was water. Hawke pulled herself up, looking to Fenris with flushed cheeks.
In place of her usual armor she wore a pair of brown linen leggings and a white linen top; a top that was rendered completely transparent from being drenched in water from the overturned bucket. Any comment about the floor or her timing died on his lips, and he silently thanked the maker for the railing hiding his body from the mage’s gaze.