[ He is not too early then, he thinks, for the strains of music that find his ears. Though as his gaze finds Zevran and, unexpectedly, the spymaster, perhaps he was too early, after all.
It's a strange sensation. Lasulahn likes Leliana, for all that he finds her intimidating, and feels that there is a veneer of stone about her that was not always there. That the world has hardened the former Chantry sister, and something was lost in her for it. To catch the barest glimpse of something gentle in her expression as they turn along the floor is sweet. But as pleasing as that might be, cold washes through the Inquisitor, nothing to do with the chill of the fortress basement. Instead it is the guilty sensation that he has spied, intruded on something not meant for his eyes. They are graceful, both, beautiful in their dance, but he perceives an intimacy there that makes him distinctly uncomfortable, for reasons Lasulahn hasn't the time to identify. Zevran and Leliana have known each other a long time, and have been through things together that Lasulahn cannot imagine. To say he is jealous of such a friendship isn't quite true... perhaps it's closer to say that he feels unworthy.
When Zevran turns to greet him, the elf hesitates against the frame of the door for just a moment before he finds himself. ]
Good morning.
[ His tone is softer for the confusion that has dampened his excitement for his lesson, but he finds a smile anyway. He ventures a few steps closer, and glances in the direction of Leliana's disappearance, and ventures, quiet and unsure: ] I... am sorry, if I interrupted. I did not mean to intrude.
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It's a strange sensation. Lasulahn likes Leliana, for all that he finds her intimidating, and feels that there is a veneer of stone about her that was not always there. That the world has hardened the former Chantry sister, and something was lost in her for it. To catch the barest glimpse of something gentle in her expression as they turn along the floor is sweet. But as pleasing as that might be, cold washes through the Inquisitor, nothing to do with the chill of the fortress basement. Instead it is the guilty sensation that he has spied, intruded on something not meant for his eyes. They are graceful, both, beautiful in their dance, but he perceives an intimacy there that makes him distinctly uncomfortable, for reasons Lasulahn hasn't the time to identify. Zevran and Leliana have known each other a long time, and have been through things together that Lasulahn cannot imagine. To say he is jealous of such a friendship isn't quite true... perhaps it's closer to say that he feels unworthy.
When Zevran turns to greet him, the elf hesitates against the frame of the door for just a moment before he finds himself. ]
Good morning.
[ His tone is softer for the confusion that has dampened his excitement for his lesson, but he finds a smile anyway. He ventures a few steps closer, and glances in the direction of Leliana's disappearance, and ventures, quiet and unsure: ] I... am sorry, if I interrupted. I did not mean to intrude.