glory && gore

[gorewrought-blog]

          i had been planning on being on semi-hiatus this whole week but then my charger stopped working :/ my dad fixed it though, so i’m finally around again! i’ll be working through anything i have to do soon.

[web1995]

[spaacemusings]

         ❛   It seems that ANYBODY close to you has a pretty low SURVIVAL rate.❜

[gorewrought-blog]

hey, friends! i’m going to be taking a semi to full hiatus starting today ( friday, june 30th ) to next sunday, ( sunday, july 9th ). i’m going on vacation with my family and while i will be bringing my laptop i won’t be using it very often. 

[depre-ss]

[lavellanpls]

da:i + locations // pt.3 

[gorewrought-blog]

samahll:

  “i’d believe it, after what has happened only recently.” even with what has happened in his own life, he knew that magic was nothing but a gift. his parents were definitely victims to a man who thought that wielders were capable of atrocities just because of what they were born with. no one even began to think that only the wielder them self could corrupt the magic if they so desire it. “yet it brings up the whole question of ethics and no one likes to talk about that. the easiest thing is to just ban it all so they don’t have to think about it any longer. eh, whatever. you doin’ good here so far?” 

          “rational thought is something orders like the templars have never been capable of,” fingers wrap ‘round edge of stone and she leans face into sharp winter air, gaze still focused upon her companion here. tongue feels heavy with weight of the truth in response to his question - that she feels these walls weighing upon her just as those of kirkwall had. that she knows she is but a tool to the people who walk this place - an unkind means to necessary ends. such words are not spoken. “your advisors best make up their minds soon, or else my being here will have been for nothing.”

[odairannies]

get to know me meme; 2/10 female characters: vanessa ives (penny dreadful) “You’re not a woman of convention or you wouldn’t be here, but you like to pretend you are so people don’t notice you. But you sometimes like that as well and can dress to draw the eye. But then you think the men who look at you are fools, or worse, to be taken in by such an obvious outward show. So instead, you’re drawn to dark, complicated, impossible men, assuring your own unhappiness and isolation because, after all, you’re happiest alone. But not even then, because you can’t stop thinking about what you’ve lost, again for which you blame yourself. So the cycle goes on, the snake eating its own tail.”

[gorewrought-blog]

blueshaded:

her lips curve with the smallest hint of amusement flitting across dark eyes.   ‘ family, it would seem, ‘   an arm extends over the table between them in an offer of greeting, hand outstretched.   ‘ helene amell, a pleasure to finally meet you. ‘   it would have been a pleasure to meet any of the amell bloodline. they were memories to her, and vague ones at that. the most she knew of the amell family came from the tales of leandra and her children which everyone knew. but she did not come to be reconciled with estranged kin.   ‘ i’ve come to find anders, i’ve heard the two of you were connected. ‘

          hand lingers between them and victoire makes no move to take it within her own boney grasp. no one comes to her without wanting something. her death. someone else dead. a job done. sometimes it’s benign as a story - the truth, or her version of it - but there is no one who approaches her without want for something dying on their tongue. even family it seems. oh, victoire had heard of the hero of fereldan, her cousin in the circle, blood tied to leandra’s veins. she’s surprised one so holy as this, so revered and spoken of in memorial around great griffon statues, would deign to speak to sullied cousin. wrecking ball of a woman who had plowed through lothering and kirkwall alike and left naught but ash and ichor in her trail. harsh laugh blows past chapped lips at the woman’s words. anders. “i have not seen the man since i left kirkwall. if you seek your wayward warden you will have to keep looking.” she knows popular rumor spreads tale of two apostates, of them moving in some dangerous pack like a pair of wolves, but such things are untrue.

[gorewrought-blog]

samahll:

  stories were one thing, but the real life person was another thing entirely. Zahir may have read Varric’s ‘Tale of the Champion’, but he knew that only went so far. if one wanted to get to know someone, one had to leave all bias behind before the actual conversation can begin. “as much as this entire world has gone mad with ‘blood magic is bad’ rhetoric, still kind of commendable that you keep to your magic well enough,” Zahir commented with a small smile. “always thought they were loons anyway. it’s not the practice that’s bad, it’s the user who corrupts the practice that is. and yet, here we are, a year and a war later.” / @gorewrought . sc

          it would be a lie to claim she has never had thoughts that would be called evidence enough for templar’s blade to come down upon her throat - murmurs of if i had more and i wish i was able. dangerous thoughts. victoire knows this, but still, she has yet to act upon such things. perhaps she has more control than even those who hunt her ( memory of red lyrium infusing with meredith’s flesh flashes before victoire’s eyes ). “any weapon is a threat in specific hands - those who think any sort of magic a death sentence are often more dangerous than those who wield it.” 

[gorewrought-blog]

blueshaded:

@gorewrought

her cousin’s reputation preceded her, though, helene supposed, the same could be said for her. although, helene’s reputation was less…. notorious than her kin’s. and the taverns she spent her nights in were usually cleaner. helene didn’t know what she was expecting when it came to victoire hawke, all she had on her own cousin was rumor and conjecture and descriptions that her connections gave her. but she had expected that someone on the run from templars would have made an effort to draw less attention to themselves. the skull-capped staff and feather-lined cloak were definitely eye catching to say the least. the previously vacant seat adjacent to victoire was quickly occupied as subtly as helene could manage.   ‘ victoire hawke? ‘   her name is poised as a question, though her confidence in her identity is steadfast.   ‘ your reputation precedes you. ‘

          people give her a wide berth, skirting about her perimeter with wary eyes and worried words listing from their lips on the underside of their breath. name has been uttered in form of question ( is that hawke? )  but none of approached - victoire is fairly certain no one has fled to alert whoever they think best suited to handle a situation such as herself. so it is noticed when a woman slides into space beside victoire and speaks her name aloud with no fear tinting the tone of her voice. gaze slides to look at the stranger, head of dark hair familiar in a way that had mind wandering to bethany for a shaken moment. “who’s asking?”

[sunken-sanctuary]

[cruciform-solidarity]

…not an end, but a remnant.

Giorgio Agamben, from Remnants of Auschwitz: The Witness and the Archive (Zone Books, 1999)

[albrakia]

[gorewrought-blog]

sensehurt:

❛ stare?  ❜ like a voice carrying in THE DARK: surrounded by shadow, heavy with burden, the hawk helped but not for them.❛ look, maybe. you want them to SEE YOU.  not the blood-stained fingertips, echoing cries, palms that REACH UP to praise as well as punish. they call you MONSTER because everyone fears what they cannot control. a hawk refuses to CLIP ITS WINGS. ❜ cole fidgets, words like a whisper. ❛ hurt, so much HURT, but you left it behind. it’s easier that way. ❜ he looks through the shade of his hat. ❛ is it lonely, there?  ❜

          she trusts him not - trusts so few within these walls. varric holds the most of her in his palms, familiar and bringing with him a tide of memories she would rather forget. this boy speaks and his voice feels like ice-tainted fingers trailing her spine, leaving chest hollow and throat a knot. “stop. “ voice hisses from her lips with an utter finality to it. lonely. he speaks the word as if victoire has given herself enough time to feel such things, to let the truth of night-dark emotions creep into her mind through marrow channels.

[gorewrought-blog]

ghimyelan:

⊰ @gorewrought ⊱

     ⟢ ⟢ ⟢ ❝𝐔nless the  g e o g r a p h y  of the world has much changed while I      was bound, you are far from 𝐊irkwall. Is it hard on you to be so far from home?❞

          “kirkwall was not my home.” it never could be, with bethany laid across a sea and carver lingering in the depths below. “i miss it not, the city was a cesspool and now it is nothing but chaos and rubble.”

[gorewrought-blog]

atonings:

—✕ █ ▌❝No, you’re just impatient — !❞ Loghain’s lips widen, a gasp of IRRITATION slipping between heavily clenched teeth He’s been wanting this, perhaps even needing this opportunity to sit down, rest, relax. Fingers itch as he idly comes to a realization in his ANGER — that not only does he want Victoire to rest, but that he desires fingers to weave that unruly mess into a carefully crafted braid that would make all men turn their heads. Yet, hands clench into fists as if willing himself to withhold temptation, pleading glimmers in his eyes as he meets her fire with FLAMES of his own. ❝It isn’t like I have much of it either. But you must rest sometime. You NEED it.❞

          “i’d say i have the right to be!” words snap from her lips and she turns on her heel, beginning to pace. perhaps she will wear a hole through the world with her feet - though she has already left one in the free marches. fingers twist in fabric of her dark robes and tongue works against blunt edge of her teeth. he’s probably right - victoire knows he is, deep in her stomach, but she does not want to admit to it. and she does not want to rest. she wants to stay up until she knows truths behind this mess, until she has learned all she needs to know. “you rest if you must - i’ll take guard.” even as she says it she knows it a poor idea. even if she will not rest, nerves have become frayed and unsure with stress and wakefulness. either she would react too harshly to benign intrusion or stagger should a true threat become seen.