Chapter Text
Mamihlapinatapei (Yagan, an indigenous language of Tierra del Fuego): The wordless yet meaningful look shared by two people who desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to start.
Oh yes, this is an exquisite word, compressing a thrilling and scary relationship moment. It’s that delicious, cusp-y moment of imminent seduction. Neither of you has mustered the courage to make a move, yet. Hands haven’t been placed on knees; you’ve not kissed. But you’ve both conveyed enough to know that it will happen soon… very soon.
***
They’re doing it again,” said Isabela to Varric, under her breath.
Varric looked over at Broody and Hawke but he’d missed it, apparently. Both were examining their cards intently. “You keep telling me about this look,” he said, “but I have yet to see -“
“You have to be watching,” she said. “For a storyteller, you’re startlingly inobservant. Look, there!”
It was brief, the length of a heartbeat perhaps, but the hope and fear and lust that seared across the table between them was nearly visible. Then Fenris glanced at his cards and raised his bet. Hawke picked up his mug and drank.
Isabela smirked at Varric, pressed her breasts against his arm and whispered into his ear. “Find the words for that.”