Blink and you’ll miss it: Krem traces his jaw with the hollow of a bare hand, measuring its strength and texture. Finding it wanting. He puts his gauntlets back on and picks up his helmet. Some days are harder than others, but the armor fits.
Blink and you’ll miss it: Sera lingering near an ancient wall mosaic, her laughter a mocking bark. Elfy shite, who cares? But when the others are turned away she reaches out to touch its surface, wondering.
Blink and you’ll miss it: Solas reacting instantly with brilliant spells to save an ally, face twisted in desperation. When the spell fades, he has a quizzical mien as if surprised by his own attachment.
Blink and you’ll miss it: Blackwall stooped with fatigue and worry, pulling his shield free from his back and running a palm over the griffon painted on its battered surface. He swallows and stands straighter.
Blink and you’ll miss it: Dorian weaving explosive spells at breakneck speed, protecting his allies with sincere fury. They are his tether and his foundation, his friends—erupting walls of fire and ice save Blackwall from flanking Venatori—every blighted one of them.
Blink and you’ll miss it: Vivienne lags behind, turning to watch their tracks. She leans against the red stone for a moment, eyes closed, stealing a moment of fragility for herself. Then she’s among the group again, powerful and radiant.
Blink and you’ll miss it: The Iron Bull is quiet when the fog is thickest in the field, searching hard for enemies within it and taking out his violence on the assassins that come for him. This isn’t Seheron. His mouth shapes the words without sound.
Blink and you’ll miss it: Cole reacting to something Cullen says and yet stopping to think about it, seeing his own hurt more clearly now. His fingers tapping together but then he nods to himself and weaves away.
Blink and you’ll miss it: Cassandra crouches lower with her shield, searching the faces of red templars for some sign they can be redeemed. A spark of betrayed frustration every time, every fight, and she’s up and driving her sword in deep.
Blink and you’ll miss it, but Varric has the eye of a storyteller.
amandla
