Angry Little Knife Ear

She wears the flames like armor, stoked high and hot enough to turn away even the most persistent of hands. Do not touch, she says, the words spit like embers at their feet. I have burned better men than you for less. But wildfires do not show mercy in what they devour. Fanned and spread by fear-fed anger, a wariness which will not ease drives even what might have been a gentle touch away. Soon it is all she can do to keep their destruction in check, and what had once been her defense inches ever closer to becoming a funeral pyre. ____ Revka Tabris Independent, canon divergent Hero of Ferelden Written by Lilou

[fireinherveins]

Indefinite Hiatus

If I’m completely honest it’s hard for me to write this. Tumblr rp and DARP have been such a big part of my life for two and a half years. I’ve made some wonderful friendships and written some great stories in my time here, and I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for those memories. But at the same time, it’s gotten to the point where I can’t ignore the truth of things.

I’m sure it’s been fairly obvious to most of you, but I’ve been spending less and less time on the dash over the last few months. Part of that has been real life being hectic and crazy as always, but at the same time I know there’s more to it. I can definitely tell I’ve lost my “umph” when it comes to my presence here, and my attempts to jump start my motivation both on Revka and Zevran have been ending up less and less successful each time I give it a go. I hate to say this, because I know I truly do love writing and hope I never stop puttering away at my keyboard in some form or another, but doing it here for some reason has just lost its luster for me. It’s been a struggle to keep up with threads while feeling like this isn’t a fun hobby anymore, but a second (and pretty stressful if I’m honest) job for me.

Which is why I think it’s time for me to tap out. I don’t want rping to be a chore, and I don’t want to disservice my writing partners with anything less than my best writing, and I just don’t feel capable of giving that in this medium anymore. I do apologize to those of you who I have threads with – I feel guilty for ending them the way I am, and hope you can forgive me for it. I promise that – even though I’m leaving – I have loved getting the chance to write and create with as many of you as I have, and thank you so much for everything you’ve given me.

I will be around still on my personal blog @lilouapproves, as well as Skype. Feel free to poke me for my username if you’d like it. With that – I guess this is it. Thank you again for all the good times, lovelies. I’ll always treasure them. Take care of yourselves and be kind to one another, and remember that I love the heck out of all of you. <3

[fireinherveins]

Indefinite Hiatus

If I’m completely honest it’s hard for me to write this. Tumblr rp and DARP have been such a big part of my life for two and a half years. I’ve made some wonderful friendships and written some great stories in my time here, and I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for those memories. But at the same time, it’s gotten to the point where I can’t ignore the truth of things.

I’m sure it’s been fairly obvious to most of you, but I’ve been spending less and less time on the dash over the last few months. Part of that has been real life being hectic and crazy as always, but at the same time I know there’s more to it. I can definitely tell I’ve lost my “umph” when it comes to my presence here, and my attempts to jump start my motivation both on Revka and Zevran have been ending up less and less successful each time I give it a go. I hate to say this, because I know I truly do love writing and hope I never stop puttering away at my keyboard in some form or another, but doing it here for some reason has just lost its luster for me. It’s been a struggle to keep up with threads while feeling like this isn’t a fun hobby anymore, but a second (and pretty stressful if I’m honest) job for me.

Which is why I think it’s time for me to tap out. I don’t want rping to be a chore, and I don’t want to disservice my writing partners with anything less than my best writing, and I just don’t feel capable of giving that in this medium anymore. I do apologize to those of you who I have threads with – I feel guilty for ending them the way I am, and hope you can forgive me for it. I promise that – even though I’m leaving – I have loved getting the chance to write and create with as many of you as I have, and thank you so much for everything you’ve given me.

I will be around still on my personal blog @lilouapproves, as well as Skype. Feel free to poke me for my username if you’d like it. With that – I guess this is it. Thank you again for all the good times, lovelies. I’ll always treasure them. Take care of yourselves and be kind to one another, and remember that I love the heck out of all of you. <3

[aseaofquotes]

Ann Aguirre, Hell Fire

[cccrystalclear]

smol assassin

[missinyouiskillingme]

I think the saddest thing someone could ever say is ‘please don’t leave me’.

R.R (via missinyouiskillingme)

[morripan]

 vivien tsang & @belkovich’s || “Dragon Age Origins Fictional End Credits Sequence”

[porcupine-art]

Visit Original Link

[wnq-writers]

He loved her and she loved him. She wanted him to say that. While he didn’t know how to say it. In the end they never said a thing.

writers-memory, Say I love you (via wnq-writers)

[comalard]

I swing both ways ;)

Violently. With a bat. Come get some motherfuckers.

[sino-archives]

Chinese Sword

[chestoftheages-blog]

              “ Another line like that, Hero, and I’m taking your tankard away.”

    His smile is kind, well meaning, too used hiding his concern behind the humor on his lips. He suppresses the large chunk of worry that settles over his heart like a stone.

     He knows right now he was getting in too deep with this kid. Revka still his junior in years at least, but he feels that old mind ticking, the one who grabbed up kids with no hope and made them into agents, then kept the safe no matter the cost. It is his greatest weakness, occasionally he gives a damn.

    Silence stretches for long moments, Varric not willing to press her for more when he can feel the pot boiling. Instead his eyes look out at the large crowd, dancing the revelries that will be the last for some of the lot. There is a saying he heard around the camps, when the fires burn low and the injured come in yet again from Venatori attacks, Red Templars, and Demons. If you last six weeks you’ll live, but in those first six weeks no one bothers to learn your name, because there is a chance you won’t last.

     So many fresh faces in that crowd, hope in their eyes. How many are going to make it back? What will it do to them? Varric knew the realities of city life, of working both sides, of being poor and downtrodden and desperate, filled to the brim with poverty. But War? War is a different beast than he has ever encountered before, and he has to admit to himself if no one else, he doesn’t like the look of it.

            “ He knows that you have to fight, that there are bad men and not                everyone can be trusted. But you’re a god to him, Revka. How many                battles has he seen you come out of? ”

    He thinks of Hawke, even as he speaks of Revka and her son. He felt the same way about Hawke for far too long, that she was untouchable, unreachable, unkillable. Sometimes it took the world damn near ending to make you realize your Gods were as mortal as the rest of you.

            “ And do you really think Nightengale is going to drop her duties for                Sorris? That she’d keep him safe? Living with the Spy Master of the                Inquisition, the previous right hand of the Divine, blighted hells, a                woman who has a shot of becoming Divine herself. We gotta work                on your taste in surrogate parents. ”

    He frowns, the current conversation a bit too dour for even him. He takes a long pull of the ale for real this time, no tricks, desperate to get the taste of death out of his mouth.

            “ Calling or no, dying in a field isn’t going to help him, it isn’t going to                help you. You should be out there looking for a cure, fighting like I                know you can, rather than coming here and dying under some other                man’s banner.”

    He sighs, a hand smoothing over his hair like a dwarfier dwarf might smooth his beard.

            “ I’m sorry, Knives. That was unfair of me. I just don’t want to see you                die without needing to, I don’t want to see Sorris go through that.                At least with the Calling there’s a chance to say goodbye, not staring                at the bridge and waiting for them to come home,                                                                                           and they never do.”

[fireinherveins]

And there it is. The first blow comes sooner than even Revka had expected, hurtling into her like one of Varric’s bolts through a break in weakened stone. She jerks with the force of it, spine and shoulders snapping taut as she draws her walls back where they belong, the anger which flashes in her eyes when they snap from her ale to stare down the dwarf meant just as much for herself as for him. Foolish. Pathetic. Has she learned nothing after all this time, or is she truly that desperate to earn another scar?

And Varric – Void. She doesn’t so much clench her fists as feels them tighten while he slings around his criticisms, knuckles aching where they rest in her lap and about the handle of her tankard. As though she hasn’t thought them a hundred, a thousand times before. Whatever disgust he might feel towards the idea of her trusting her son to someone else is nothing compared to what she has already turned on herself, the guilt and fear of leaving him to another’s mercy a weight she’s carried since she’d first set them on the path to Skyhold.

But what choice does she have in all of this? Should she have kept him away, held on to some miserable shadow of a hope that Zevran would appear from nothing to take her place while the sky tore itself apart over their heads? Perhaps Leliana might not be best suited to such things, but she is someone who can be trusted at the very least – that alone is more than Revka can say for most anyone else.

Her jaw aches something fierce, teeth clenched against the urge to spit embers back across the table, the lot of them held in check by a precious few threads of control. Then the mention of the Calling comes, and Varric’s accusation tears them from their seams. Temper rears its head like a hissing snake, burns hot and acrid in her chest, a venom which spreads through her veins with the quickened beat of her heart. She doesn’t hear his apology – or rather, is in no state to pay it mind, what with the way her ears have started to ring and how much effort it takes her to stay seated in her chair. A wonder, really, that her ire is given away only by a scowl and not with upturned furniture.

“’S what you think, is it?” she says as her nose flares around a breath, voice honed into an edge keen as any dagger’s. “Been a half dozen ages since the first Blight, Tethras. There’s no Maker-damned cure. ‘Spose that doesn’t matter though, does it? ‘Spose I aught to traipse back and forth ‘cross Thedas, hoping for some damned miracle to come falling out the sky long with the demons and every other bit of shite.”

The tankard is at her mouth in the next moment, half of its drink drained down her throat in two long pulls. It strikes the table with a loud crack as soon as she finishes, the sound loud enough to catch the notice of a few pairs of ears, their owners turning wary glances towards Revka’s fuming.

“Should just drag Sorris with me ‘s well, hm? Not like the Inquisition’d care to keep him ‘round Skyhold if I’m not willing to make it worth their while any longer. Then he can end up dead in that same field right ‘long with me.” Her head shakes, frown turning bitter as she pushes back against the sickened dread that image leaves churning in her stomach. “’S no point in it. No good end coming out of this, and I sure as the bloody Void won’t start pretending otherwise.”

[wnq-movies]

The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained.

Little Birds (2012), Dir. Elgin James (via wnq-movies)

[wordsnquotes]

I think there are pieces of yourself that you will always guard.

Kiera Cass, The Elite (via wordsnquotes)

[rioghanborn-blog]

                                                ━ Well, well, what do we have here? ❜ the sarcasm drips like ichor from a festering wound. How could she not have noticed this intruder, as they snapped, bashed, and beat their way to her wood. She appreciates the effort certainly, but she does not take kindly to disturbances.

Eyeing the dark skinned elf, her scowl so piercing it should be a physical blow the Witch of the Wilds has to keep herself from laughing. How darling, to come here with such impudence. ❛ You’ve come an awful long way to Die, Warden.❜ She steps down the crumbling stairs of the temple, the forest growing in and out with a careful weave to fill the holes in this once great monument to Forgotten Gods. She did not settle here for the irony, but she finds it perfectly acceptable for others to think so. ❛ Not that I would need to land the blow myself, the taint is doing a fine enough job of that on it’s own. ❜

She is alike to the great statues of Mythal given life as her bare feet touch the damp ground. A single eyebrow raises as she wonders just what this foolish woman may do next. ❛ Don’t stop on my account, dear. Seeing how you have slashed and slain you way to my doorstep, I am sure whatever has brought you to a place you are so obviously unwelcome is something you find Terribly important.❜

                                ♛  ━ @fireinherveins

[fireinherveins]

She is not welcome here. Not safe. The very air around her thrums with the same threat that meets her behind a pair of gleaming eyes, their golden shine as frigid, ruthless as the worst of winter’s winds. The chill wraps itself about Revka, whispers those same promises of death in her ear as had been shouted to her back a week ago now, a last warning from wary villagers who had called her fool to even consider what she has done. They turn her stomach to ice, leave what breath her panting draws into her lungs sharp as needles in her chest, sweat from the day’s exertion at her brow and neck, trickling down her spine gone clammy and leaving goose flesh in its wake. Fear, she realizes distantly, as though somehow some part of her might remain outside of this all as observer. Fear the likes of which she has not felt in years – since the Archdemon had shrieked as it soared on tattered wings over Denerim, since those first few silent moments when Sorris had lain unmoving in her arms.

Revka does not move as the woman descends her staircase, a memory of another Wilds Witch forced to the front of her thoughts while she watches bare feet pad silently against stone steps. But no – at their meeting Morrigan had moved with grace born of pride, confidence bordering on that of the arrogant. This woman… There is no assumption of power here, nor a need to reaffirm its presence. One glance at the sleek grace in her step makes it clear she is nothing less than some great predatory cat, and Revka the deer struck motionless in its sight. If the hunter should decide to bare her claws, there is no question in her mind which of the two would claim their victory.

But she will not let that deter her now. Not with how far she has come and what precious time she has forfeited to see this through. So instead she forces her chin high and the crumbling line of her shoulders firm once more, both boots dug in to the soil by their heels. Stained steel catches a muted flash of light as she sheaths her daggers, fingers caked in dirt and worse left to rest about their pommels. A choice which goes against instinct, certainly, but one she knows will do little to shift her fate in the end. A moment’s extra time to draw her blades will not see her at any greater a disadvantage should the witch’s whim sway towards her end, and perhaps if she is fortunate the gesture it is meant as will not go unnoticed.

“I’ve my reasons,” she finally manages to say as the witch continues her approach, the twist beneath her ribs which comes at the blunt mention of the taint muted beneath the rest of the dread churning through her. “Don’t much expect you to care what they are. Not looking for sympathy or charity on your part. Way I hear it though, you know things. Lost things. Secrets. Shite what might be useful fixing… problems.” Her weight shifts through her hips while she swallows hard against the knot lodged into the base of her throat. “Think you know what I want. Think you know I’m desperate, ‘s well. ‘Spose all that’s left is if you’re able, and what you want as payment if you’re willing.”

[wordsnquotes]

Better alone than badly accompanied.

Candace Bushnell (via wordsnquotes)

[juls-art]

Some backwards play was done this past few weeks.

I’m not too hot on it but it does make me appreciate characters that appear in recent games so much more– Leliana in particular. u 3u

[canticleofmercy-a]

✍ Am I too late for the thing I would love the thing if you're still taking them! <33

Not this shit again — Revka @Thedas probably