Who: Morrigan and the Grey Warden What: ARGH, feelings. Warnings: Just blood and gore. No sexings, I swear.
Morrigan's insistence that she didn't have feelings made it difficult for her to actually process said mythical feelings in a stable, mature way. Any attempt to logically explain her actions at this point was idiotic, in her opinion. She was killing demons. It was what she had done in Fereldan. She had wiped out a nest of lesser demons in Cornwall, pulling them out and taking them on one at a time. It took hours, but that was what she needed. Grueling, mindless work to clear her head.
Once Cornwall was clear, she'd sought out something more difficult. Petit had sent her after feral weres, the sort that had lost all humanity and were dangerous month-round. Of course, being the full moon, they were stronger. And they hunted in packs. Morrigan hadn't been ready for all of them, and they'd taken her down. She'd tried keeping herself healed, but there was only so much she could do. Her body was lying in the bushes, bleeding and missing several large chunks of skin where she'd been bit.