rune

run away with me and lets go somewhere no one else can see

[forsaken-eye]

NONVERBAL WARDEN

hear me out. the warden doesnt have a VA, yeah? so i have a story for my warden about why that is. like, why she doesnt speak. or technically two. THE ROUGE the rouge warden knows how to speak but as a child, she rarely did, preferring to listen rather than speak. she also was a slow learned and did not learn how to speak until well after the average age. now, the reasoning for that changes based on the origin. for dalish elves, she preferred to learn and study. for city elves, she enjoyed staying silent in order to cause mischief. for dwarf and human nobles, they were positioned to eventually become a spymaster for their older sibling so they stayed silent to eavesdrop. for dwarf commoners, it was part of working for the carta and living in dusttown. while the rouge warden DOES know how to speak, her voice is so unused that her words are pronounced wrong, her voice doesnt seem to fit right in her mouth and her voice sounds raspy, which she dislikes. THE MAGE the mage warden knew how to speak and was once a very articulate child despite being a late bloomer. however, very soon after entering the circle, a spell backfired and rendered her voice severely damaged. when she speaks, her voice has been compared to that of a demon or a darkspawn’s growl. while both can speak if they wish, the sound of their voice is so bothersome to them that they prefer to write out what they wish to say, or have a companion translate for them. i also canon my warden as having sensory issues and autism. she has a hard time controlling her impulses, leading her to do things that might have been better left alone. she is not the best with social interaction, she tends to hyperfixate on things (cough reading every single codex entry in the game cough) etc etc. THE WARDEN AND SENSES - Wynne has learned how to calm the warden down when they have an overload. - there have been multiple times that companions got yelled at because they were talking when the fire was making just a bit too much noises and the warden couldnt get her armor off quick enough when it just wasnt fitting right and her tongue felt like it didnt fit in her mouth. - the warden CANNOT touch drake or dragon scales. the feeling of them is too unpleasant for her. - sten taught the warden a qunari tactic for blocking out noise during a battle because all the sounds could render her useless during a fight. - leliana kept a journal of all the things the warden could and could not wear based on their texture and introduced her to new ones that would help her. - morrigan taught the warden a way to block the taste of foods when she eats so that if she HAS to eat something that bothers her, it wont affect her as badly. - alistair is just confused about it all but tries his best to help. - zevran knew an autistic crow recruit and has experience with helping so he keeps a large journal of all the things he has learned throughout the years and will sneak into shops if he sees something he knows wont bother the warden - the wardens dog learned that the texture of his fur doesnt affect the warden and will cuddle her when she needs it - shale doesnt understand why the small squishy thing is crying but they bring her pretty rocks and crystals. - oghren brewed a special ale that doesnt bother the warden after he learned the taste and smell of everything else was too much

[forsaken-eye]

i want to hold you.

- please stop being so far away

[forsaken-eye]

youre the kind of boy who could bring the world to its knees. the kind of boy the sun will sink for. you are the kind of boy poems are written about. the kind of boy who is made of honey and ash. an angel risen from the fire who possesses a sweetness that draws me in closer with every breath you take and every word you speak. you are a boy created in the forges of the world and shaped by the flames of hell. a boy crafted by fire yet holds the gentleness of a breeze.

- my eyes on him - r.t.

[forsaken-eye]

im the kind of girl who can never love right. the kind of girl who holds on just a little too tightly even when your hand feels like the sharpest knife. im the kind of girl whos never been able to love myself because the world has never given me the love i should have received. im the kind of girl made from broken glass and raindrops. whos been broken so many times and rebuilt with the pieces, losing a little bit more each time. im the kind of girl who destroys everything around her in hopes of something beautiful being created. im the kind of girl who could never love you right, but will love you with everything she has.

- my eyes on myself - r.t.

[forsaken-eye]

“if you have ever once loved me, be here in the morning. be alive in the morning. survive for me. survive for us, little love..”

- words from a story i will never show anyone

[forsaken-eye]

“i wanted to kill myself. and i almost did. but now, im glad i didnt, because youre here and i never want to let you go.”

- words from a story ill never show anyone

[forsaken-eye]

i wanna go home. and when i say i wanna go home i mean i wanna go to you. i would burn this world to ashes if it meant i could be by your side. i would shatter every bit of glass and walk across the shards just to see your smile. i would lose my life to make sure you didnt suffer a papercut. youre my everything. youre my home. i just wanna go home.

home ; r.t.

[forsaken-eye]

we’re wasting our youth and we’re wasting it for each other. long nights just to talk to each other and spending every moment we can waiting for the day we can be together.  wasted. wasted you, wasted on you, wasted for you. and i wouldnt have it any other way.

wasted ; r.t.

[forsaken-eye]

everyone gets their happily ever after. that moment in the story when everything is just right and the last page is turned and the book is closed, over and done. but thats never really the end. theres always the day after the happily ever after. theres always the time when the high ends. when the heroes fade away, when the legends are forgotten, when the kingdoms fall and the lovers grow apart. there is always the days, the months, the years after the happily ever after when life goes on and problems arise and things change. because nothing can stay perfect forever. not even a happily ever after.

happily ever after ; r.t.

[forsaken-eye]

the glint of the crown reflected from the moonlight as he stood inhumanly still. his eyes swept across the unlit city below him as a cool breeze fluttered his cape. he drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, the beat of his heart echoing in his chest. the days events replaying in his head as he began to plan for the next. the feeling of a gentle pressure drew his attention back to the present and his eyes opened. glancing beside him, he saw the still figure of the love of his life standing, her delicate hand resting on his shoulder. he let out a shaky breath and moved his hand to cover her smaller one as he closed his eyes. the effect she had on him had always shocked him. he was a prince, the power of the world in his hands. people bowed to him and heeded his every word. and yet the moment she spoke, he melted. she was the one thing that held power over him. a queen, an empress in all but name. the pressure leaving his shoulder drew his attention away from his thoughts as he opened his eyes and looked to his side. the girl was gone. he froze, the memory of her hitting him like a tidal wave. the memory of her spinning through the ballroom as the candles and the starlight cast an ethereal glow around her. the gorgeous gown she had worn billowing out around her legs as he watched her from his throne, his full attention locked on her movements. the memory of the arrow shot from seemingly nowhere finding its way into her chest. the memory of the look on her face, wide eyes, her mouth forming a little ‘o’ in shock. the memory of her eyes locking with his as she reacher her shaking hand out towards him, silently begging for a savior. the memory of rushing to her as her tiny body crumpled, the crown on her head falling to the floor, creating a sound of metal hitting stone mixed with the cries of the people watching. the memory of holding her body close to him as he wept. the memory of her gentle breaths as her hand pressed to his chest, staring up at him with the eyes that had always enraptured him. the memory of her whispered “i love you” as her breaths finally stopped. the memory of crying out in pure desperation, in pure pain, as the love of his life was ripped away from him. the hand on his shoulder had never been there. the image of his love beside him had not been real. she was gone, and he had gone with her.

ghosts ; r.t.

[forsaken-eye]

"dont worry, love! ill come visit! and ill tell the others about you... i love you." those were the last words he said before he left the manor. he never heard her response. her whispered “i love you too.” she spent days and nights sitting by the entrance of the manor, waiting for the day he said he would come and visit, but it seemed like it would never come. she watched from her spot as the children grew and became adults far more capable than her, she watched as couples became heartbound and new children were arrived and old faces left. she became a silent sentinel, never moving and always watching. three months after he left, he never visited. she knew he was far away and busy so she stayed quiet and continued waiting. twelve months after he left, she still didn’t catch even the smallest glimpse of him. not a trace of his scent or the sound of him. not the smallest bit of life that could signify that he was there. thirty-six months after he left, she was desperately clinging to the image of him, scared to lose it like she had lost herself. scared that she would lose the one piece of him she had left. sixty months after he left, she could remember the sound of his voice and the glint in his eyes but could not for the life of her remember where she was. she could barely remember her own name, but she could remember the way he looked at her so clearly. eighty-three months after he left, she grew tired and her mind continued to leave her, but still she waited for him, so sure that he would come and visit like he said he would, like she believed he would. she trusted him with every fiber of her being, gave him every piece of her until there was nothing left for herself. it was two-hundred and four months after he left that he visited. two hundred and four months after he made his promise and said he loved her. he came into the manor and looked around, having obviously changed but still having that same gleam to him. he walked into the manor, not noticing the sad looks being sent his way, or the hushed voices speaking around him. finally he looked up and asked where she was, confused and hurt because he thought she would be there like she always was, like she always had been. had he been away too long and she had given up? why was she not there, racing to him as she had so long ago when he would return and she would ask him to tell her everything that had happened, excited just to hear him speak. he received no answer and his confusion and his hurt only grew until he was yelling and demanding an answer, a haze surrounding his thoughts that were moving too fast and too loud to comprehend until finally a single voice stopped him. stopped everything dead in its tracks and made it seem like time had stood still. it had begun raining at the same moment he felt as if his heart had stopped beating and as if his stomach had dropped to the ground and all in that moment, everything was still. everything was silent and frozen and it seemed as if the world were weeping for him as only one thing repeated itself in his mind. “shes gone. shes gone and shes not coming back. she died waiting for you. she gave you everything, even her life.”

too little and too much ; r.t.

[forsaken-eye]

and his voice is like the gentlest breeze that ruffles your hair and fills you with serenity. it flows over you like the sweetest honey and fills your senses with a sound that can put you in a trance. he has the kind of voice that you can listen to for hours and still feel drunk off his words. he has a voice like a siren, like beautiful temptation drawing you in. he has a voice like the breeze, carrying secrets of the cruelty of the past. and i would give anything to hear those whispers one last time.

whispers ; r.t.