blackenedfangs:
“Why, to maintain my innocence and good name, of course!”
“I didn’t even suggest you did anything yet. That leads me to wonder only one thing: what are you up to, then?”
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@elgararla
blackenedfangs:
“Why, to maintain my innocence and good name, of course!”
“I didn’t even suggest you did anything yet. That leads me to wonder only one thing: what are you up to, then?”
“You mistake me. I am only stating the facts in hopes of reaching a fair conclusion to your decision, my friend.”
“And there couldn’t be any reason you’d insist.”
She’s silent for a good long moment, until a sigh announces her defeat. Khaliya pulls at her scarf, and produces two more potatoes from the safety of its confines.
“—I normally keep bread rolls there, before you ask.” As if that’s any better.
The curled hand that presses against her mouth is supposed to make her stare more impressive, but it likely doesn’t do much of that, either, when behind it remains a smile.
“Doesn’t that get itchy? Smelly, too. But I feel like I should be applauding you. I never would’ve guessed the real reason you accessorized so well.”
“—-I feel like this is a trap.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
elgararla
“Whatever you think me guilty of, I can assure you, it wasn’t me.”
“How do you know what I’ve decided at all?”
“And I suppose answering with the ‘old Dalish trick’ wouldn’t work so well on you now, would it?”
“I don’t know. If it helps, I could play along?”
fadecloaked:
“I usually eat it before then.”
“Surely you know the longevity of potatoes, lethallan. A couple months of luck goes a long way.”
“Oh, I know their longevity well. When they’re not in your pockets.”
“I have to wonder how you fit one there at all. I’m impressed.”
dreamingapostate:
Her hair is impossibly long, a shade of red streaked with gray that forms a stark contrast against his pale skin. Solas would be lying if he says he doesn’t enjoy the motions, weaving it through his hands with a deftness that seems foreign given his lack of hair.
“There is something soothing about this,” murmurs Solas, close to her sharply pointed ear. “And it gives me an excuse to touch your hair more often.”
“No arguments on the first point,” Ainsley concedes with a slight shake of her head, flipping a page to the side after reviewing it. “But the second. A seeker of excuses, are you? A bold statement.”
And no use in letting it slide unnoticed, really. The company is appreciated, and all things considered, it makes an already light amount of missives lighter; the heavy penning will be with Josephine at their usual appointments.
dreamingapostate
She reads over scrolls and parchment alike, carefully inked requests and invitations. It is the small tug at each lock of hair, intertwined with the next, that keeps her from tiring over this task, too, the same as she had pulling back her own hair.
“You know, I never thought you were quite so concerned with grooming. Or at least mine.”
{ elgararla }
“Tell me, lethallan, do you regret the choices you’ve made thus far?”
It’s a gnawing feeling, like sharp little teeth in the back of his mind. He’s sees many things about the Inquisitor—power to sway nations, power to change the flow of fate, raw, unadulterated power. But he wants, no, needs to know the way she thinks. Perhaps, even, to test her on where she stands and guide her towards something better. If she’ll allow him, of course.
It’s a rather pointed question, despite its intent. She likes to think she knows why.
Ainsley stands on threshold of the rotunda, leaning a shoulder against its old stone, picking over her words carefully. “I’ve made my fair share these days,” is her dry remark, getting a feel for the exact mood of this conversation. “You’ll have to be specific.”
Since joining the Dragon Age RP community, I’ve had a lot of fun and a lot of opportunities to grow and develop as a writer. That wouldn’t be possible without all of you, so thank you. Thank you for writing with me, for sending me questions and ideas, and for letting me have the opportunity to see you guys write as well! There are so many talented and sweet people here in this community, and I really treasure that.
This will be both a giveaway post and a follow forever. But let’s start with the good stuff and let me give a shout out to these folks on my dash. Keep in mind you might see the same mun multiple times given different RP blogs and all. These are the people I dig both on this blog and on my other blog, delayedcorruption. Chances are I might’ve forgotten some people because I’m exhausted—if that’s the case, I’ll apologize sincerely. All of you are fantastic writers!
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alphaqunari / withinvigil || arielshepard / clawofdumat || ameamin / harbingerofjustice || bloodiedamell / taintedhawke || commendure || dreamingapostate || drekihilmir || edledhron || elgararla || fororder-deactivated20150222 / pavusarcanus-deactivated2015022 || herorecipe || littlecurseddeity || morgulais / tethrxs || necromanciies || seekingabalance || stabbystabseeker || starkhavenshadow || twicebound
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brynhallavellan || cadashsmash || childofthedreaming || cloudgazercadash || couslxnd || cxsteless || defensorx || didntsayandrastesays || enelyalavellan || findhimworthy || gildedfaith || hawkefortherescue || heraldofdoubt || oflavellan || necrmantic || oathbroken || ofandraste || prophetry || sinsoftruegrey || soulofaknight || withdrawment
The Soldiers (canon blogs)
altusboy || bijoudefer || coeurdxlion || commandercullywully || compatiors || covetousfade || cremiisius || daisythedalish || enchantergalyan || ensorcellisms || fadedtouch || fadeforsaken || falondiiin || falsebride || ferrumleones || gladiusknight || hoboblaidd || howlingstorminside || iustxs || just-milling || leofortis || lesserendofthebargain || liberatiiis || lionoffthelyriumleash || lyriurn || madamiisms || ofandruil || ofdirthamen || oneredjenny || path-of-sorrows || reclaimabull || redemptior || rxghthand || theharellan || trxder || visverbi || wardenshonor
The Allies (OC blogs)
amgefxrn || forgeryy || formerbravo || halcyonisms || hewaanders || invintersend || killerpigfarmer || ladycaedron || lostlavellan || nobodythedalish || rattrunner || requireamiracle || sataareth || therabbitofthecity || vatesvati || vintyvanora || whisperedisolation
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“Ah, this should open to the mountainside,” Solas says as he studies the sigils intently.
He feels the way the Veil thins, like a prickling across his skin. It intensifies as he raises a hand to dispel them, certain that he can apply enough power to reset them when they’re finished. As he suspects, the door opens easily to a stone structure settled into the mountain side.
Snowdrifts line walls, and sunlight spilling in from the midafternoon sun. He shields his eyes from the brightness, and lowers the torch. Its use is complete.
Sunlight chases away the shadows, blotting out her vision. She blinks against it rapidly, her eyes adjusting quickly enough. The cold is less easily shaken off, carried on a biting wind. It is reminiscent of the lonely mountain pass, the cover of night, broken supplies and embers in makeshift fire pits her only guides.
"I hope we never have a use for it, but I'll make sure the others are aware of it."
And there was the voice. The motherly, caught-you-red-handed kind. Braith made an admirable effort, admittedly, but her sister had already spoiled her hand. Khaliya would’ve chuckled at the sight, but she knew her role to play in this as well. Instead, there was but a gentle hum, and a carefully neutral expression. Her arms folded, body slanted towards the two young hunters. Poor Brigh, with her wide and hopeful eyes.
"Chances are if you need to say it isn’t what it looks like…" Her voice trailed off, humored, cheeky. She’d let the sentence remain unspoken. "But by all means, explain what we’re seeing wrong—I love a good tale.
Her attention cut towards the poor hunter caught in the crossfire, as if (regrettably) just realizing he was still here. Of course he was—he was a part of this situation, whether he wished it or not. “And how have you enjoyed this Dalish welcome? Probably not much—ma’falonen, perhaps you should show this man what a proper Dalish apology looks like?”
All the hope Brigh strategically piles on Khaliya wilts in a single moment, the young elf's eyes nervously darting to the man they'd been jeering on not moments earlier. "It was a kind lecture on proper form?" she offers with what she hopes is a disarming smile.
Braith isn't quite as optimistic, shaking her head where she stands. "An apology? You can't be serious. He started this."
To her credit, Ainsley has managed to keep a rather aloof stance and expression throughout the exchange, considering them all in no particular fashion, the man included.
"How so?" she asks of the twins.
"He challenged us." Bright sounds as if she's nearing exasperation.
Ainsley remains unmoved. "It is a tourney, you realize. That's the point." Her eyes turn to Khaliya. "It's been a while since I've heard a proper Dalish apology myself."
Two sets of eyes trail between both Inquisitors as if they are utterly irrational.
"I am. There is no need to be impatient, Inquisitor."
"I happen to be the pinnacle of patience."
“You did no such thing. On the contrary, I would welcome the company,” Solas remarks over his shoulder.
His strokes are broad as he colors the fur of a howling wolf. He remembers that terrible night at Haven and the subsequent nights after the escape. Solas could hear the mournful sound for most of it. The painting dredges up many memories in that moment, none of them savory.
“What do you think so far?”
At that, there is a fleeting smile, her footsteps quiet as she walks into the rotunda. Her attention wanders the scope of the curved walls, meticulously dappled with paint from scenes, losses and victories, gone by. Different tales that flow, each into the next. It is a humbling talent, to be certain.
"It's stunning. I've never seen anything like it."
"Of course!" Catriona said enthusiastically, a rare and bright smile gracing her face. "I’ve always wanted to compete in the Grand Tourney, but I was never allowed when I was in Starkhaven."
Shadows should stay where they belong, her uncle had explained gently. He hadn’t meant it to be unkind, but only that their role was one where they were not to be seen. It wouldn’t be safe to reveal their skills in such a public event.
Not only that, but the Game always came to the Tourney, and politics inevitably got involved in some of the matches. ”I no longer serve a noble family in the Marches. I needn’t worry about offending some chevalier when I take him down a peg or three. I’m not some Marcher upstart; I’m a member of the Inquisition,” she added with a grin.
"That happens regularly, does it?" Given the easily wounded pride Ainsley has rapidly familiarized herself with, it isn't entirely a shock, but the part of her that remains hopeful tends to reflect on tales with caution. Exaggeration, perhaps, but as with everything, they always contain a shred of reality.
"You've earned your right to wear our colors, Catriona. No one can take that from you, within these walls or outside of them."
"I’ll work on it, then. Better luck next time, as they always say." The concept of mother and child is something forgotten to her, something she hasn’t really put thought in for longer than a minute or two at a stretch. Easier that way, but it lends only to inexperience and ignorance; something that Ainsley clearly doesn’t suffer. The First always seems so knowledgeable, so worldly… Though not without a mischievous streak, try as she might to hide it under wraps. "Never sure who ‘they’ refers to, however…"
Khaliya is content to watch Ainsley’s process of preparing her own tea, methodical as always. Something as simple as tea can be surprisingly illuminating on a character. Or something. Maybe Ainsley just likes her tea sweet. Maybe Khaliya just enjoys the bitter tartness of hers, always drinking it too fast and scalding her tongue. Perhaps it’s just that.
"I remember the first time she made it. Burned the egg and crust and undercooked the fish. The smell was awful, completely ruined the cooking pots." An easy hum from her lips, and Khaliya’s heels tap the ground. "Sometimes I’ll wonder if we’ll even be able to return when this is all over."
The smell, that day, had been horrendous; it had clung to everything, and even the open breeze blowing over camp hadn't been enough to chase it away. It had been no small feat to ruin cookery as sturdy as the crafters had made them. The stunned silence, the bewildered faces, the barely held snickering.
It is a memory worth honoring and not one she is entirely surprised to hear Khaliya favors. Light, casual, with its hidden bittersweetness that makes it anything but thoughtless.
"It was everywhere. I never thought she'd get it out of her clothes."
Before long, memories might yet be all they have. A look at the people taking refuge in the garden, whether from the outside world or their duties, tells Ainsley that by this point, they have more than stumbled into the world of humans. Any clan to take them in would forfeit their anonymity. So, instead, she thinks of it differently. "Would you go back, if you could?"