Winter's Grasp.

[arvilkiem-deactivated20150803]

                      you will rip the sinew from the lengths between your bones                         if that is what it takes to become immortalized in                                       the eyes of the maker & his bride.

[bitingchill]

Better Call Saul was amaaaaazing. aaAAH! also hello! I'm poking my head back up because I'm finally starting to feel calmer ( long story short, anxiety built up over some real life stuff and I wanted to avoid busier blogs and just...yeah, sorry about that. ) but I'll be 100% back tomorrow and finally going to polish off those replies that I've left to sit waaay too long.

[bitingchill]

I did not choose to lead.

[bjorndyr-archive-deactivated201]

                                                                 YOU WILL                                                               NOT BREAK                                                                        ME. indie avvar oc.                                                  |                                                  ind. & selective. mun is 18+.                                                       |                                                 5+ years exp.

[bjorndyr-archive-deactivated201]

                                                                      ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

[sapphic-legs]

How many Templars does it take to light a torch?

Two. One to conventionally light a torch and another to accuse the first of being an apostate. (via ellie-tist)

[curlyms]

[bitingchill]

                                                  ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ

                   ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ’ᴍ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴜᴘ?

                                     ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ?

[bitingchill]

i can not believe that i found a good faceclaim for my Lavellan. it's too late, google. okay? you had your chance weeks ago and u blew it.

[bjorndyr-archive-deactivated201]

          "Apparently I’m not allowed into the melee            incase I — quote — ‘start ripping off jaws             again.’”

          “Sounds like a boring melee anyway, right?”

[bitingchill]

"How dreadful! Would you like me to speak with someone about that? Assure them that your days of jaw ripping are over?”

                   There is a pause.

"I suppose that would be a lie, but there’s no reason  anyone has to know it's a lie.”

[bitingchill]

♬

We Will Rock You [x]

Unfortunately, the idea that one will get better at something with practice is  simply not true. After all, Antha has danced with many that night, and  she is no closer to figuring out how one is go about the task without tripping over their own feet than she was hoursprior. She has not had the benefit that others of the noble class have -- what with being stuck up in a tower for most of her life. This does not stop her. Her face is alight with enthusiasm as she winds her arms around the Inquisitor's shoulders; body swaying in what is surely a mockery of the graceful dances seen in the noble houses. 

"It is an honor, to dance with the mighty Herald."  The music is lively, but her movements continue at a pace that is slow and decidedly exaggerated. "I shall be the talk of the Tourney!"

[ofhawkiingsarchive-blog]

bitingchill sent a Grand Tourney thing: ✫

Hawke simply smiled at the woman before gesturing for her to sit down with him. His tankard was still rather full, but he was happy to have an excuse to drink more.

"Having fun? Or did you come here to escape the masses of people probably wanting to talk to you?”

[bitingchill]

"You would think that I might catch a break, what with all the excitement, but it is still Inquisitor this, and Your Worship that." Her forehead is against the table before she can even get the rest of her sentence out. It is a touch dramatic, but then...when is Antha not? Her fingertips are outstretched, seeking to find his tankard.

"But I suppose this is fun. Ostwick has hosted many tourneys, and my family has participated in them time and again -- alas I was not included. So this is a refreshing change." She has found his drink, and manages to pull it away from him. "What of you? Is the great Hawke not competing? I should like to be able to bet on you. I hear that's a sure win."

[bitingchill]

♬ to dance with my muse

We Will Rock You [x]

She takes her life into her own hands by even approaching the other Mage. Manytry, and just as many seem to come away with injured egos. Words bite as readily as any beast. Yet Antha is among those who will try. Vivienne is a vision -- but then, the sky is blue and giants are troublesome -- and Antha has had a bit too much to drink.

 She is within range. A hand reaches forward and slips around the other woman's elbow.There is no escaping the Inquisitor, now. "Viv!" A grin is plastered to her face. There isa flush to her cheeks that speaks of the ale she has been drinking for the better part ofthe night. "T'is a celebration, you know. Yet you're not -- well, you're not celebrating!This won't do at all! Come, won't you dance with me?" 

Of course, Antha will leave out the fact that she does not know how to dance. No needto spoil the merriment -- her merriment, anyway. Vivienne does not look quite as jubilant. 

[memekeepsakes]

Send me a symbol for a Grand Tourney starter

◉ for our muses to compete in an event (specify which one, if you like) ♘ for our muses to play a game together ♥ for my muse’s favour ✿for my muse to react to receiving your muse’s favour  ♦ for my muse to bet against yours ✫to drink/toast with my muse ♬ to dance with my muse ❦for something different (be specific)

[radtracks]

Visit Original Link

we will rock you // queen

you got blood on your face you big disgrace wavin’ your banner all over the place

[templarhael]

bitingchill liked x

   At times, the former Templar found himself occupying the sparring area on his own; sword in hand, chainmail in place rather than full-fleshed armour and sweat dripping down his forehead, the curls of his hair pushing through even stronger than usual. One hit followed another, thoughts running freely, exploring darker memories, fuelling his will to swing his blade. It went on like that for a while, sharp hits continuing on, until the memories began to nag, and along with them the scar crossing what used to be his right eye. He came to a halt, placed a hand over the eyepatch in place and let out a light grumble— one that was cut short by quiet steps nearby. His head turned, saw a familiar face and he immediately straightened, giving a light bow in greeting, along with something of a forced, polite smile.      ”Your worship.        I wasn’t aware you enjoyed wandering these parts. How may I help you?”

[bitingchill]

She has made her way down onto the training field -- perhaps she is hoping to  catch sight of the commander? Or do her interests lie with the clash of metal and  wood that rings across the courtyard? Even Antha does not rightfully know. Truth be told, the Inquisitor is prone to aimless meanderings, when not suffering the weight of responsibility bearing down on her shoulders.  Today she will find a lone Templar -- she knows of him, though they have not yet become well acquainted, and she can't help but to smile at the bow she receives by way of greeting. He is simply going through motions. It is a position that Antha knows well.

A hand raises. A silent cue for him to be at ease.

"Yes well, so often am I forced to wander into rebel encampments and spider infested holes that I enjoy going anywhere that does not pose a threat on my life." Even her  forces are not sparred from the humor that is never far from the Inquisitor's lips. She does not stand on ceremony -- not if she can help it, anyway. "As for your help, there is nothing terribly pressing at the moment. Though, the way things are going lately,  that is bound to change at any moment. How are you finding yourself, Ser Knight?"

[arvilkiem-deactivated20150803]

death  is  lastly  only  debris, an    obstacle    to  overcome. the blood   matting   fur    only darkens  with the setting  sun. life is firstly only bones of the living, & there is nowhere left to                                   r u n.

[iamtheobsidianqueen]

I am a bolt of lightning. I am wild, and dangerous, and unpredictable. I am admired for beauty. But I am feared for the nature I possess. Who could ever love such a thing?

(via iamtheobsidianqueen)