So, I decided that I was tired of my self-imposed exile (and writing in general) from Fanfiction. Now I am to go on a 30-day writing prompt challenge, inspired by one word given to me by my friend.This is gonna be fun! :D

~*Pity*~

Hawke feverously worked to warm up her hands. The small fire she had created did little to protect her bare arms from the bitter cold, but she remained as close as she could to it while out of range from the crackling embers. A puff of white mist obscured her vision as she released a hot breath of air.

"Merrill's must be worrying herself sick," she mumbled. "She's probably running around in the snow looking for us." Even as she said it, an image of the little blood mage crawling up and down the mountain, her big puppy eyes opened wide in a panic as she cried out for her missing party members, weighed down on her mind.

"I highly doubt Isabela, or anyone, would let her wander off far," Fenris' gloomy voice echoed from a dark corner in the cave. He shifted uncomfortably on his stone slab. "Though I would suggest being more concerned about yourself right now, rather then the blood mage's potential heart attack."

Smart ass, Hawke gritted her teeth. She was always told that the Maker had a sick sense of humor, but this seemed ridiculous. Tucking away a flyaway strand of hair, Hawke cleared away some snow on a patch of ground and noiselessly sat down. She could see Fenris' eyes glowering in the darkness.

"It's not like it's going to hurl fireballs," she said sullenly, glancing up at him. Silence answered her. "You're not a block of ice, you know that right?"

"I'm well aware."

"Then come on over and warm up," she grounded out. "You're no good to yourself with frostbite."

She heard Fenris shifting again, but he didn't move an inch towards her magical fire. Stubborn headed fool, she glowered. Her frustrations were quickly mounting, and the air grew icier. Ten minutes slowly passed by. Hawke sighed in exasperation. "Please come over here, Fenris. You'll freeze to death before morning even comes at this rate."

It seemed like an eternity passed before she heard a shuffling noise, and Fenris entering the firelight. Small icicles clung to his hair as he crouched down next to her small fire. Awkwardness suddenly thickened the air. Hawke cleared her throat.

"So…once the sun rises…we should be able to thaw our way out," she started thickly, not at all accustomed to long periods of silence. Alone time with Fenris when he was in one of his brood moods was agonizing.

"It's a plan," he muttered. Hawke bit her lip.

"It'll be warmer…when the suns up and all…" she tried again. "I'll just be able to…blow it up…" she gestured at the collapsed mouth of the cave.

"I know."

Her stomach began to growl ferociously, causing her cheeks to adapt a sickly green color. Isabela and her damn diet plan… Nausea gripped at her, causing her vision to swim. "I've never been so cold before," she talked, fighting to keep her dizziness at bay. "It's never snowed much in Lothering. Dad always kept us inside when it did." She could feel Fenris' annoyance rising.

"I've been through worse."

Aha.

"Like when?"

Fenris suddenly paused.

"That's not your concern," he bit out. Hawke scoffed, her breath turning into white mist.

"We're trapped in a cave," she snapped. "Now isn't the time to be antisocial." An uncomfortable silence befell the both of them, only interrupted by the howling wind outside. Hawke's stomach growled viciously again. Fenris sighed

"Danarius and I were traveling through The High Reaches during a violent blizzard one night," he said. "In order to see where we were going Danarius lit up my tattoos. It wasn't pleasant." He poked at the embers of the fire. Oh, what she wouldn't give for a jug of beer right then.

"A blizzard? At night?" she thought out loud, before cracking a small grin. "Jeez, what a moron. You'd think he'd—" Hawke was violently cut off from a blast of power that knocked the wind out of her. She gaped in amazement. Fenris bowed his head, ashamed.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Reflex…"

Ah.

Nervously raking her hand through her mussed up hair, Hawke fixed her eyes on the fire. "That was my fault... I'm sorry." As soon as the ill-thought-out words left her lips she immediately began cursing her stupidity. Fenris recoiled.

"I'm not interested in your pity," he snapped. Her earlier bitterness was quick to resurge, as was her nausea, when she glared spitefully at the foul-tempered elf. Preaching to the choir.

"It's not pity, it's sympathy."

"There's no difference of the two."

"Yes, there is," Hawke persisted. "Sympathy is when you understand someone's pain; pity is when you look down on them for it." His face was contorted in a deep scowl. The circumstances of their condition were obviously starting to affect him.

"And I presume you understand my pain, then." It wasn't a question. "You would hardly even know where to begin." Without warning Hawke jumped to her feet, anger flushing her cheeks a bright, furious red.

"Oh, sure, poor little Fenris is the only one that can walk around acting like he's the only person in the world who has scars," she shouted, heart hammering.

He began to start growling violently. "Few can say they lost as much as I have."

"Merrill lost her home, Varric lost his brother, I…" She furiously cut herself off. The old wound on the bridge of her nose was stinging from Fenris' dark gaze. Shame welled up in her chest. Hawke crossed her arms and glowered angrily at a speck on the cave floor.

Time passed by agonizingly slow.

"I'm sorry," Hawke mumbled.

"...it was unnecessary of me…"

Hawke nodded, her pride refusing for her to take another action. Her chest began hurting.

Eventually, Hawke sat back down on the floor, her feet wickedly sore. She suddenly felt exhausted, and found it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open. Her companion didn't look that much better off, as his head constantly began to nod off.

"I know what it's like to be scarred by magic," Hawke bit out finally, watching the breathy mist float away. A few seconds passed before she heard him grunt in reply, and took it as a Fenris-y "yes". "And... I won't ever look down on you, you know."

Another grunt. Hawke's tongue poked out between her lips.

"Well, yelling at you was fun, at least," she tried one last time. This time she got a little chuckle. She, too, cracked a small smile. "Hmm, I should do it more often…when we get out of here and all…"

"…yeah."

~*O*~

Ah well, expect the next prompt tomorrow, my fellow Dragonlings.

Au revoir~!

~DM-sama