Author's Note: First I managed to forget about this story, and then I somehow misplacedthe rest of what I'd written, so I just wrote this bit of filler for astalavista until I locate the missing chapters. Thank you, and enjoy!

What Isabela was doing was wrong, there was no doubt about it. More importantly, she knew it was wrong. But, try as she might, she couldn't stop herself from uncrossing her bronzed legs and leaning back against the splintered crate as Merrill dropped to her knees in front of the pirate.

Merrill was by no means an idiot, but she lacked knowledge of the world beyond the safety of her clan, lacked experience in things that Isabela was only too happy to teach. But this wasn't teaching, it was taking advantage. The elf was too easily influenced, and the human had put a lot of time and effort into protecting her from a wide variety of pitfalls that were all too abundant in Kirkwall. So why was she toying with her emotions like this? She should say no, tell her that this had gone far enough now, but all she could do was sink her teeth into her tongue as Merrill's slender fingers trailed down her calves, thumbs ghosting over the length of her shins.

Isabela tried in vain to force the words out of her mouth, screwing her eyes shut in concentration, but there was no turning back as the mage's palms smoothed up over her knees, over her...

"No," Merrill said abruptly, though her hands didn't cease their exploration of Isabela's shapely legs. "I can't," she shook her head, tickling the insides of the older woman's thighs as she peered up from between them, looking like she'd let herself down just as much as Isabela.

"It's okay," Isabela told her gently, cupping the mage's cheek as she tried to look away. "It takes a certain kind of person to be able to pull it off, no questions asked, and I think all of this goes to show that you're just too special for something like that," she reassured her with a promising smile.

"I just... I can't," she sighed again. "I cannot tell the difference," Merrill continued to massage the backs of Isabela's slender ankles. "When did you say you got your Sea Legs again?" she asked curiously, "Did your old ones look any different?"

"Oh, umm..." Isabela fought back another fit of giggles. This is too good. "Many years ago," she nodded for emphasis, straining her jaw as she tried to look serious. She shouldn't wind Merrill up like this, but she couldn't help it.

"Was there a ceremony?" Merrill brightened up at the thought, large eyes still fixed on Isabela's left leg as she lifted it from the ground, tentatively flexing the knee joint.

"Of course," Isabela boasted a little too convincingly. "Ceremony, party," she counted off on her fingers, "the lot!"

"You must have been very good at sailoring," Merrill sat back on her hands and watched as the smuggler told her tale. "Can anyone get a pair of Sea Legs, then?"

"Certainly not," Isabela's palm collided with her chest as she made an effort to look hurt, "they're only for the very best," she beamed. "Now, peg legs are much easier to come by, but do you really think one of those would go with my shoes?" she arched an eyebrow in the direction of the boots laying unconscious on the ground.

Merrill's face scrunched up as she tried to imagine said attire on the Rivaini.

"I didn't think so," Isabela gave her a knowing smirk.

"So, umm, what happens if you don't want them anymore?" she inquired.

"Why on earth would I want to get rid of them?" Isabela gasped theatrically, like the very idea was sacreligious.

"I... I don't know," Merrill stammered, afraid she'd offended the pirate. "Perhaps if they got broken or didn't work properly?" she offered.

"True, they can get a little rusty if you don't put them to good use," she told the girl, using her feet to grip Merrill's narrow waist as she reached down to the floor for her pipe, "but a little venture out soon sets things right," she struggled back upright with a groan.

"Can they even get broken?"

"Anything can be broken, kitten," she said wistfully, "but, given time and care, it can also be mended."

Merrill looked relieved; the thought of a broken Isabela made her stomach feel very odd indeed, like it couldn't make up its mind whether to feel hungry or worried.

"A short amount of time, mind you," Isabela added hastily. "Accelerated healing powers. One of the many perks," she winked, trying to make her limbs sound as interesting as possible. Too much?

"Oh, well that's good," Merrill breathed, "very handy. Or would it be... leggy?" she almost winced at her own joke, like she was expecting a hard slap to connect with her delicate features.

"Something like that," Isabela rolled her eyes, but couldn't quite contain her childish grin. "Nah," she eventually drawled, patting the tops of her thighs affectionately, "I couldn't get rid of the old girls, we've been through too much together."

"Merrill?" a rather stern voice called out from somewhere to their right, and the elf almost collapsed to the stone paving as her elbows weakened from the shock.

"Looks like you're up," Isabela gave Merrill a small nod of encouragement before shifting around to see Aveline waiting patiently in the doorway of the Blooming Rose.

Both human and elf had almost forgotten their reasons for loitering outside the brothel so early in the morning. Isabela, at least, didn't usually saunter this way until gone noon.

The pirate's colourful anecdotes had kept Merrill distracted long enough for her nerves to settle, but now her stomach was in knots as she thought about entering the crime scene, Isabela's warm hands and smiles doing little to comfort her as she was uprooted from the floor.

"What if I do something wrong?" Merrill turned to Isabela, panicking. "I mean, what if I don't know what to do, or say something stupid? I say stupid things, don't I?"

"Relax," Isabela ruffled the elf's hair, "just follow her lead," she nodded in the Guard-Captain's direction as she stooped to gather her boots. "You'll soon know the ropes like the back of Aveline's hand," she chuckled to herself.

"But I don't know the back of Aveline's hand," Merrill was puzzled. "Her hands are quite large, though, aren't they? I'd never noticed until you said."

"Truer words have never been spoken," she patted the mage on the back, feeling her chest swell with something akin to pride.

"I can hear you," Aveline growled from the doorway, and both women immediately snapped their mouths shut, chests heaving in unison as they snickered in silence.

"Will..." Merrill began after a moment, but hesitated as Isabela ceased her attempts to light her pipe, awarding the elf her full attention. "I mean, would you maybe... come with me?" she requested, wringing her hands nervously like she'd demanded too much and was to now suffer the consequences.

"You don't even have to ask, kitten," Isabela secured her pipe between her teeth and slipped her free arm into Merrill's, dragging her jingling boots behind them as she accompanied the mage to the door.

"I know none of it was true," Merrill whispered as they approached the brothel, "about your legs, I mean, though I'm not quite sure about the lily-liver," she admitted, referring to one of Isabela's earlier fables. "But I liked hearing you talk about it," she smiled up at the pirate. "You sounded happy. It was nice."

"Merrill, dear, you're going to rot my teeth," she planted a chaste kiss on the elf's temple.

"That's... bad? It is, isn't it, it's bad?" Merrill babbled before Isabela clamped a hand over the smaller woman's mouth, laughing heartily.

"Come on," she tugged Merrill past Aveline and over the threshold, "it's show time."