𝖜𝖊 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖆

ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁿᵒ ᵐⁱˢᵗᵃᵏᵉ: ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵖᵉⁿᵗᵃᵍʰᵃˢᵗ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵃʳʳᵃⁿ ᵗʰʳᵒⁿᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵒʳ ʷᵒᵐᵃⁿ ʷⁱˡˡ ˡᵉᵃᵈ ᵘˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵃ ᵖʳᵒˢᵖᵉʳᵒᵘˢ ᶠᵘᵗᵘʳᵉ.

[hordebled-blog]

fateorchance‌:

Some other time perhaps, he would contemplate more as to just why the Inquisitor sent him. For now, he was simply grateful he hadn’t been kept waiting any longer. If he’d sat there in the silence of that sitting room alone much longer, he might have gone mad.

The Champion stood as the baroness entered, bowing slightly at the waist automatically. He looked… well traveled. Downright unkempt next to her silks and velvets, leggings covered in canvas riding pants, tunic rumpled beneath the long travel cloak that still hung on his shoulders. “Baroness,” he greeted, managing not to wince at his own stiff back as he straightened. “Please, feel free to simply call me Hawke.”

“As surprised as I was, I believe,” he flashed a wan smile, reaching for his belt to retrieve the letters he’d been sent with. “I bring letters from Lady Josephine Montilyet, and from Inquisitor Trevelyan. They were felt too sensitive to trust to regular ravens.” And so they chose a Hawke instead. Another time perhaps, he might have chuckled at the implied pun.

“ so  they  sent  a  bird  of  a  different  feather, ”  she  smiles,  something  indulgent  in  her  voice  as  fingers  reach  forward  for  the  letters.  oh,  she  had  corresponded  with  lady  montilyet  before,  though  never  through  a  messenger  of  such  high  importance.  it  seems  whatever  they  require  now  is  more  worrisome  than  the  coin  and  raw  supplies  alia  has  been  sending  first  to  haven  and  then  to  skyhold.

it  must  be  of  great  importance,  whatever  it  is.  the  letters  are  looked  down  at  for  a  moment  before  she  lays  them  on  a  small  side  table.  “ do  you  know  what  they  are  writing  me  for?  or  did  they  send  you  across  thedas  blind? ”

[hordebled-blog]

fateorchance‌:

@hordebled liked! Alia Pentaghast + Gabriel Hawke

In an opulent sitting room in Nevarra, the Champion of Kirkwall fidgeted. Sitting alone, for the mine being, he shifted in the overstuffed chair he sat in, uncomfortable and ill at ease. Gabriel Hawke was a nobleman in his own right, a wealthy man who still, technically, owned many nice things. But the manor house of Baroness Alia Pentaghast was… several steps higher than he’d ever really experienced.

It was a situation that he had not quite been prepared for. But he supposed ‘Anything you have need of me to do, I will’ meant… traveling to Nevarra too. The Inquisition needed support – Adamant loomed on the horizon, and they needed support both politically and financially.

And so here Gabriel Hawke sat, letters of introduction in hand, and he waited for the Baroness, trying valiantly not to let his backside slide off of the brocade upholstery. “Maker’s Mercy…”

there  is  something  to  be  said  about  making  people  wait.  it  is  an  act  of  dominance  in  it’s  own  right  -  forcing  someone  to  sit  and  wonder  when  you  will  deign  to  walk  in.  that  is,  surprisingly,  not  what  baroness  alia  pentaghast  is  doing.  thedas  is  in  shambles,  and  nevarra  is  not  exempt  from  the  way  the  world  is  crumbling  beneath  their  feet.  the  king  is  making  increasingly  odd  decisions,  retreating  further  into  his  cabinet,  refusing  advice  or  an  audience  to  even  those  he  has  called  friend  in  the  past  -  those  like  alia  herself.

such  things  create  paperwork.  papers  and  letters  she  needs  to  read  and  sign.  that  is  what  she  had  been  doing,  until  realizing  she  has  left  the  champion  of  kirkwall  and  whatever  petition  it  is  he  bears  waiting  in  one  of  her  sitting  rooms.  hopefully  someone  has  brought  him  something  to  drink  in  the  meantime.

the  heavy  doors  open  and  she  pushes  into  the  room  in  a  cloud  of  dark  pearls  and  red  velvet  and  white  silk,  gliding  across  the  plush  carpet  on  the  floor  to  greet  him.  “ the  champion  of  kirkwall, “  she  smiles,  though  it  is  not  warm,  “ i  must  say,  i  was  surprised  to  receive  word  of  your  journey  to  nevarra. ”

[hordebled-blog]

ofthedas‌:

          ——— there is a hum in the back of siobhan’s throat, trying to imagine some sort of statue or plaque in her honor among the flowers. it was a nice thought - she supposed. she wasn’t one for bragging. humble, mostly. except when it came to fighting. then it was all about knocking them to the ground and showing them who was truly the better fighter. most of the time, it was her. 

          ❝ what about you? ❞ she asks, a smile on her lips, ❝ plaques, statues? stars? what would you want? ❞ it’s a fun little game now. what would you want the world to name after you? what would you want the world to remember most about you? when all of this is said and done, siobhan just hoped she wouldn’t be lost to time. she couldn’t remember anything about past inquisitors - but knew that there were past inquisitions. did history forget them? or did those thereafter choose to erase them?

alia  truly  can  picture  it.  some  marble  statue,  like  those  that  line  the  paths  of  val  royeaux,  with  vines  and  blooming  flowers  growing  up  around  the  feet  and  legs.  it  would  be  lovely.  stately.  peaceful.  all  things  the  inquisition  are  not  -  not  yet.  things  change  in  time,  though.  the  inquisitor  before  her  seems  the  sort  to  make  things  better,  even  if  she  apparently  does  not  want  the  recognition.

a  soft  laugh  slips  from  her  lips.  “ to  see  the  pentaghasts  remain  in  their  rightful  place, ”  is  her  honest  response,  “ to  see  that  there  is  a  world  left  for  us  to  live  in. ”  it  is  hard  to  become  queen  when  the  world  is  ruled  by  mad  cultists  and  a  speaking  darkspawn.  call  her  selfish,  if  you  so  wish  -  it  would  be  true,  and  alia  would  not  dispute  it  -  but  her  wish  for  thedas  is  merely  for  it  to  remain  in  one  piece.

[hordebled-blog]

whooo  replies  will  be  done  soon  but  oof  writing  on  benadryl...hard

[bullyfreed]

i’m too lazy to bother putting together a theme, so like…i’m gonna wait and hope tumblr gets it shit together, if it doesn’t i’ll eventually find a theme.

[hordebled-blog]

guiltsworn‌:

𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖, 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘. legendary ? hadn’t she just said the inquisition still needs to prove itself ? one would think that saving the world ‘once,’ a ‘success many would laud as legendary’ would be enough to prove their worth. then again, vic isn’t expecting her to make much sense, anyways. all her arguments thus far have been backed on whims, the hopeful attitude of a person from a completely different culture, used to everything being HANDED to them, likely without the smallest bit of conflict. he thinks on it  &  half rolls his eyes, again, head shaking as he looks ahead instead of at her. 

❝ i don’t believe in the maker at all, ❞ he mutters, ❝ and you’d be surprised how soft-headed people can be. ——-actually, maybe you wouldn’t. ❞ the last words are delivered with a cocky smile, lilted  &  amused to MOCK her tone, as his head tilts  &  he rises from his seat. acting in such a way sends the smallest pinch of nervousness to his heart——he would be killed for such an outburst back in denerim, no matter how small ! however, weariness is minuscule  &  just barely shows, now ; the inquisition is safe, he knows.

he steps away from his seat, enough to throw on his coat, eyes not paying her much mind. ❝ listen——no offense, but you’re very annoyin’. don’t worry ; i’m SURE i am, too. but i guess i’ve got a lower tolerance for bullshit, so i’m gonna crack on. ❞ half of his mind scolds him for being too mean. the other half doesn’t care. ❝ thanks for the chat anyways, ma’am, was very enlightenin’ ! assured me the nobility is no different, yet. maybe in the next decade, aye ? ❞

his  chair  scrapes  the  stone  as  he  gets  up,  making  her  head  tip  as  dark  eyes  watch  him  move  impassively.  seems  she’s  hit  some  nerve,  or  he  simply  does  not  feel  like  interacting  further.  lips  curl  in  a  polite  smile  as  he  speaks.  “ i  see  why  you  are  not  a  diplomat, ”  there’s  honeyed  amusement  coloring  her  voice,  but  it  keeps  that  soft  and  silently  laughing  quality  -  saccharine  but  hot  somewhere  beneath.  fingers  curl  as  hands  fall  to  her  lap,  “ and  yet  i  was  so  enjoying  your  company! ” she  isn’t  mocking  -  not  quite.  it  is  not  the  worst  conversation  she’s  had  with  some  urchin  alia  would  have  otherwise  never  spoken  to.  

a  soft  laugh  drifts  from  her  lips  and  she  gives  a  polite  bow  of  the  head.  “ i  would  not  place  too  much  hope  in  that  -  if  you  cannot  stomach  a  conversation  with  the  nobility,  we  may  never  have  reason  spoken  into  our  silly  little  heads. ”  that  is  mocking,  but  only  a  shade  of  it,  slipped  over  the  top  of  the  words  like  a  fine  layer  of  mist.  head  turns  to  look  across  the  gardens  for  a  long  moment.  if  she  squints,  it  could  almost  look  like  one  of  the  plainer  public  parks  in  nevarra,  though  the  cold  grey  of  the  stone  ruins  the  illusion.

“ allow  me  one  final  annoying  question?”  she  doesn’t  wait  for  him  to  agree,  “ if  you  believe  in  neither  the  maker  nor  the  power  the  inquisition  will  grow,  why  are  you  here? ”  her  tone  is  less  affected,  words  laid  out  flat  and  simple  as  she  turns  her  eyes  back  to  him,  head  still  cocked  and  eyes  keen.

[hordebled-blog]

emcads‌:

@hordebled liked for a starter !

       IT WAS SAID that the Nevarrans were UNRIVALED in terms of their culture and ceremony, and so the Lady Esmeralda was drawn to them as a moth to FLAME. ( her attempts to court the Armada into an alliance with the Brethren Court ——— or indeed, into ANY sort of unity ——— had achieved little more than mere FRUSTRATION at the stubbornness of men. rest and respite were NECESSARY from such tiring diplomacy ) And so the woman known in her own port as the PIRATE QUEEN sipped on spiced tea ( with a few generously poured modifications ), donning finer wear so as not to draw UNDUE attention. But the pirate born of the Caribbean Sea hadn’t anticipated such cool conditions, and she huddled ‘neath Luis’ coat with such clinging desperation that her opulent silk gown was HARDLY visible at all. 

     ❛❛ how do you suffer such weather ??  ❜❜ a pause to accommodate a VICIOUS shiver. 

     ❛❛ we do not SEE snow where I come from.  ❜❜

“ with  plenty  of  whiskey - spiked  tea, ”  lips  curl  upward,  head  turning  to  peer  at  the  newcomer  from  behind  the  heavy  fur  collar  of  her  outermost  cloak.  a  pair  of  ice - skates  dangle  from  one  arm  -  alia  has  always  enjoyed  gliding  across  the  surface  of  the  frozen  minanter,  ever  since  she  was  a  little  girl  -  but  she  has  already  skated  enough  for  one  day,  gliding  arm - in - arm  with  one  of  her  van  markham  relatives.  both  had  been  looking  to  fuel  a  little  stir,  seeing  as  both  families  are  vying  for  the  throne  -  and  dear  cousin  helenus  had  interesting  news  about  some  more  remote  member  of  the  van  markham  line  trying  to  levy  a  bid  for  power.  now,  though?  a  cup  of  aforementioned  spiked  tea  is  in  one  hand,  a  parchment  bag  of  roasted  chestnuts  in  the  other.

“ well.  that  and  having  been  raised  to  enjoy  it. ”  eyes  follow  the  slow  descent  of  mild  snowflakes,  nothing  heavy  enough  to  hinder  carriages  but  surely  enough  to  bring  discomfort  to  this  stranger.  “ have  you  been  out  on  the  ice? ”

[hordebled-blog]

guiltsworn‌:

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑. change always comes too late for someone. vic scoffs, audibly——that doesn’t mean it should, doesn’t make it okay, doesn’t mean people should turn a blind eye to it, or shrug it off. he can’t tell if this person CARES, or not. she’s provided supplies, claims she would supply the world if she could ; but speaks with a casual air, smirks  &  smiles at all his arguments,  &  has felt the need to remind him of her incredibly gracious donations at least twice or three times already.

not to mention, she does keep insulting him. ❝ and you think too big. i can’t blame ya’ for bein optimistic, but there’s a point. ❞ quickly, rather with every sentence she goes on to say, vic finds himself less  &  less ready to clutch on to what’s left of his courtesy. he can’t tell if one can be blamed for their own ignorance, or not. ❝ we’ve got the left and right hand’s of the divine, but the divine’s DEAD, and they’ve opposed the chantry by formin’ the inquisition in the first place. got called heretics for it. ——and don’t even get me started on the ‘herald’ bullshit. ❞

his head shakes, a hand raising to rub his forehead a bit, a tell as to how annoyed  &  exhausted the conversation has him. really, he has no idea why he’s trying to reason with anyone high born, make them care about anything less than themselves. he’s clearly getting nothing from this one, except for a HEADACHE,  &  the strong urge to go home. ❝ we’ve been on thin ice with them and the people since this begun. what you’re talkin’ is best case scenario ; that never happens. maybe we’ll get close, but i find it hard to believe one organization will rise above the chantry, then cure bigotry, prejudice, and poverty, just ‘cause they saved the world once. i don’t see anyone worshippin’ the hero of ferelden. ❞

“ has  the  inquisitor  not  already  saved  the  world  once? ”  in  truth,  she  only  half - listened  to  him  after  the  mudlark  scoffed  at  her,  dark  eyes  still  glittering  intently  even  as  something  at  the  back  of  them  grew  disinterested.  the  hand  by  her  throat  flutters  dismissively  before  fingers  return  to  idly  resting  against  her  skin.  “ i  would  say  their  work  of  closing  the  breach  was  a  success  many  would  laud  as  legendary,  when  the  time  comes. ” 

what  she  had  said   of  her  care  for  the  people  was  true  enough  -  if  she  was  able  to  feed  all  the  poor  and  starving  in  thedas  and  supply  them  with  warm  homes  to  sleep  in,  she  would.  it  would  be  quite  the  feat  and  would  gain  her  respect  from  people  like  this  ragged  man  before  her.  it  is  not,  though,  so  she  does  what  she  can  to  grasp  the  love  of  others,  donations  and  paying  for  food  to  be  given  to  those  in  need  during  the  ancestral  pageants. her  first  worry  will  always  lie  with  nevarra.  with  being  thought  of  as  a  good  noble  there,  of  keeping  her  name  and  the  line  of  the  pentaghasts  in  good  regard,  no  matter  how  much  king  markus  seems  to  misstep  with  age.  maker  forbid  she  not  know  the  plight  of  the  fereldan  masses.  it  seems  this  man  would  condemn  her  for  it. 

“ there  is  no  cure  for  such  things, ”  words  are  again  lilting  and  amused,  though  her  eyes  are  no  less  distant,  “ merely  steps  to  be  taken  in  the  path  of  trying  to  rid  the  world  of  such  things.  unless  you  believe  the  maker  will  return  to  us  and  set  all  things  right? ”  shoulders  rise  and  fall  sharply,  “ perhaps  you  are  correct.  the  inquisition  is  no  heroic  legend  in  the  ages  to  come,  but  it  will  set  off  a  reaction  that  will,  i  believe,  one  day  set  the  whole  thing  tumbling  down, ”  she  cocks  her  head,  “ or  the  people  of  this  nation  are  too  soft - headed  to  turn  against  the  foundation  that  abandoned  them  in  their  time  of  need  and  forget  the  one  that  aided  them. “

[hordebled-blog]

❛❛ Don’t look into the painting’s eyes, it’ll… hurt you. ❜❜ | from Inanallas

lovecraft’s  commonplace  book  starters  -  accepting

“ the  painting  will  hurt  me? ”  though  there’s  amusement  in  her  voice,  it  is  not  mocking.  no  -  the  baroness  knows  there  is  plenty  in  thedas  she  does  not  and  cannot  fathom  or  understand,  and  the  idea  of  a  painting  somehow  able  to  harm  her  is  one  that  is  unusual  but  all  too  possible.  there  are  all  sorts  of  magicks  that  could  have  been  put  on  such  a  thing.  “ only  the  eyes,  you  say? ”

[hordebled-blog]

❝ How many of us would be granted pardon if our true hearts were known? ❞

lovecraft’s  commonplace  book  starters  -  accepting

the  smile  that  cuts  her  face  is  sharp  as  a  blade,  teeth  too  white  against  scarlet  lips  and  eyes  dark  and  bottomless.  it  is  an  unfortunate  truth.  sometimes  she  is  glad  the  maker  has  abandoned  them  -  it  is  better  he  does  not  see  the  world  that  stole  his  bride  and  the  actions  of  those  who  inhabit  it.  “ none,  i  would  imagine, ”  her  voice  is  too  light  for  the  words,  drifting  from  her  in  lilting  tones,  “ it  is  good  none  can  know  that  knowledge  but  ourselves. ”

[hordebled-blog]

❛❛ Can you hear that…? The music. I must follow it. ❜❜

lovecraft’s  commonplace  book  starters  -  accepting

following  mysterious  music  was  not  exactly  on  the  top  of  the  list  of  things  alia  would  like  to  spend  her  time  doing  -  but  here  she  is!  “ are  you  sure  that  is  wise? ”

[hordebled-blog]

❛❛ They died, but the corpse retained life. It stalks about, tries to conceal the odor of decay. ❜❜

lovecraft’s  commonplace  book  starters  -  accepting

“ you  sound  just  like  uncle  vestalus, ”  though  he  lacks  the  grey  robes  and  the  solemn  set  of  his  mouth,  “ the  necropolis  never  smelled  of  rot  -  it  has  always   been  the  mortalitasi  who  cloak  themselves  in  the  most  cloying  and  sweet  incense  in  an  effort  to  hide  the  smell  of  death. ”

[aecervus-deactivated20210215]

❛❛ I shivered when the sun shone upon me. ❜❜

❛❛ Always gay and without sorrow. ❜❜

❛❛ The shores respond in song to the waves. ❜❜

❛❛ I dreamt of falling, and in the morning my body was sore and bruised. ❜❜

❛❛ Beasts dance and march so music in these streets. ❜❜

❛❛ It was just the tones of the clock striking three. ❜❜

❛❛ The garden is much bigger than possible from the outside. ❜❜

❛❛ What was that hideous sound coming from the dark? ❜❜

❛❛ The water… it’s all… dark? Dark and slimy, black. ❜❜

❛❛ The walking dead… they seem alive, but- ❜❜

❛❛ The doors mysteriously open and shut, the windows close.  ❜❜

❛❛ Don’t look into the painting’s eyes, it’ll… hurt you. ❜❜

❛❛ I can’t sleep, not now, I refuse. They’ll grab me from my fluttering eyelashes. ❜❜

❛❛ In the deserts hides an ancient colossus, yet no man has seen it. ❜❜

❛❛ Dreams are older than Egypt and Babylonia, did you know? ❜❜

❛❛ Death… desolating and horrific, but isn’t life worse? ❜❜

❛❛ The bottom of the sea, dead cities, hideous beasts. ❜❜

❛❛ The rank slimy vegetation suffocates me. ❜❜

❛❛ Determinism is just a prophecy. ❜❜

❛❛ We’ll move away from earth, more swiftly than light. ❜❜

❛❛ I can hear the voices from distant universes whose stars are too far to see. ❜❜

❛❛ This smell… it brings back childhood memories. ❜❜

❛❛ I feel like drowning at all times, undersea, it engulfs cities, ships, and the dead. ❜❜

❛❛ Drowning is a horrible death. ❜❜

❛❛ Can you hear that…? The music. I must follow it. ❜❜

❛❛ I don’t trust mirrors, who knows who’s watching through? ❜❜

❛❛ The moonlight makes monsters of those born living. ❜❜

❛❛ At midnight, it descends into the soft earth at the graveyard. ❜❜

❛❛ Those cities were wiped out by supernatural wrath, none may be built in those cursed grounds. ❜❜

❛❛ Hideous… Hideous name. ❜❜

❛❛ A river of liquid fire streams from the underground now. ❜❜

❛❛ They say that the moon reveals that and those unknown to the human eye. ❜❜

❛❛ The voice of your dead calls you from the living room… ❜❜

❛❛ It was terrible. They say the hand of the dead man wrote the will.  ❜❜

❛❛ Eventually, it disposed of its human shell, above us. ❜❜

❛❛ Your fears are nothing but an incomplete duplicate of yourself. ❜❜

❛❛ The catacombs don’t belong to the city, sadly. ❜❜

❛❛ The black mass lives under the old church now. ❜❜

❛❛ If you wish to steal, go ahead, but beware of the gargoyles. ❜❜

❛❛ A horrible, horrible secret eats at you. ❜❜

❛❛ Even nightmares die, they leave marks in one’s heart. ❜❜

❛❛ They told me that the organ caused the church’s heaven to cave in on the congregation. ❜❜

❛❛ Don’t read that terrible book if you like being sane. ❜❜

❛❛ We never know what hides in the lone lagoons and swamps, in the ancient abandoned homes. ❜❜

❛❛ Even brainless monsters can survive. ❜❜

❛❛ [ He / She / They ] died, but the corpse retained life. It stalks about, tries to conceal the odor of decay. ❜❜

❛❛ Change comes over the rising sun. ❜❜

❛❛ An overgrown gardener is always a bad sign. ❜❜

❛❛ The people here talk about unknown, dark fires dancing across the hills at night. ❜❜

❛❛ Fear blinds you, it makes you hollow. ❜❜

[hordebled-blog]

isiliden‌:

;; – “Not sure I mentioned it yet, but I don’t know what a Baroness is.”

@hordebled liked for a starter.

“ my  family  was  given  land  called  a  barony  and  the  title  by  a  king  many  generations  ago.  i  was  the  heir  to  both,  and  as  i  have  inherited  the  barony,  i  am  a  baroness. ”

[hordebled-blog]

ofthedas‌:

@hordebled sent an ask and got a starter

“they’ll name constellations after you one day.”

          ——— her cheeks burn red hot; quickly followed by the shake of her head and a nervous laugh. siobhan was nothing more than doing this to stop corypheus. constellations were one of those things given to heroes and legends. she was… just a woman doing what she had to. what she was supposed to do. the mark was hers for a reason; she needed to do with that what she could.

          ❝ maker, i hope not, ❞ she finally says, ❝ stars seem far too important. too permanent. maybe a statue. or a plaque. those things can be taken down and lost to time. ❞ her gaze turns to look elsewhere, the hand with the mark squeezed tight in a fist, ❝ however, stars would… certainly be interesting. ❞

an  amused  sort  of  smile  flows  over  her  lips  and  she  delicately  raises  one  shoulder  in  a  shrug.  dark  eyes  are  turned  up  towards  the  very  sky  they  speak  of.  “ i  would  say  the  starts  are  rather  fitting  for  the  woman  who  stitched  together  the  skies. ”  alia  replies  easily  as  she  turns  her  gaze  to  the  inquisitor  rather  than  the  stretch  of  the  sky  above  skyhold.

“ i  am  sure  you  will  have  statues  and  plaques,  too, ”  there’s  a  laugh  hidden  among  the  words,  “ likely  one  right  in  the  center  of  the  garden  here,  at  least. ”  the  image  of  a  stone  replica  of  the  inquisitor,  hand  raised  to  close  a  rift,  positioned  among  the  flowers  and  herbs  of  the  garden  courtyard  is  one  that  alia  can  imagine  easily.

[hordebled-blog]

templion‌:

          𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐒 to look out into the large outer court of skyhold, where everyone attended to the day’s work without a care in the world. such a life is envious and he must known, he once had the chance to continue such a peaceful and docile manner of living, but he chose war. and he may call himself foolish, but she need not know what such events do to a soldier like him, for as long as they have.     ❝ while I can agree with some of that, the call is not mine to make. ❞     now he turns, fully facing her. she reminds him of a dragon, he likes to believe ; sharp tongue, piercing eyes, and dangerous cold blood. simply put, a singular creature he would not like to come across. yet as they are dangerous, they are mythical, and can offer wisdom where it is needed.     ❝ besides, such decisions aren’t my call. this is the inquisition, and I am merely the leader of its army. such decisions are for the inquisitor to make. maker knows how much they already have on their shoulders now. ❞

she  must  wonder  about  what  they  all  think  about,  bustling  here  and  there through the courtyard  with  weary  and  determined  faces.  her  social  circle  has  always  consisted  of  nobility  -  dukes  and  lords,  family  names  she  has  read  about  the  exploits  of  in  history. seeing  the  drawn  faces  of  so  many  common  people  who  have  the  will  to  travel  through  snow - slick  mountains  in  order  to  follow  in  the  train  of  the  inquisitor  is  interesting  and  new,  though  their  discourse  is  not  always  appreciated.  “ of  course,  commander, ”  alia  smiles,  mind  wandering  to  the  weight  on  the  shoulders  of  the  inquisitor,  “ but  you  do  have  their  ear,  i  am  sure. “  a  beat  passes  she  she  turns  fully  to  face  him.  “ do  you  believe  they  are  the  herald  of  andraste? ”  it  may  seem  a  sudden  question,  but  it  is  one  she  has  been  ruminating  on  for  some  time.  “ please  spare  me  the  response  given  by  your  ambassador  and  spymaster. ”

[hordebled-blog]

revamped  nevarran  chantry

because  i  say  so  and  because  bioware  decided  to  give  nevarra  a  mage - power - heavy  society  that  literally  compares  the  political  power  of  the  mortalitasi  to  that  of  magisters  but  then  never  examine  how  that  would  change  the  chantry  and  circles  in  nevarra,  the  nevarran  chantry  and  how  nevarrans  view  mages  is  wholly  different  than  the  fereldan  chantry  &  the  circle  system  in  larger  thedas. this is something  that  can  elicit  responses  similar  but  far  less  frightened  than  those  surrounding  tevinter’s  imperial  chantry.  that  reaction  is  not  aided  by  the  fact  that  nevarran  chantry  services  use  a  mixture  of  alamarri language  and  tevene,  the  language  the  chant  was  originally  orally  passed  down  through  and  then  the  language  it  was  most  widely  originally  written  in.

the  nevarran  chantry  is  not  led  by  some  version  of  the  divine  -  there  is  no  singular  leader  of  the  nevarran  chantry,  rather  a  council  of  chantry  mothers  who  serve  as  elders  and  guiding  forces  with  less  political  power  than  the  divine  of  the  wider  chantry.

the  chant  of  light  is  an  ancient  text,  one  that  has  been  greatly  changed,  added  to,  and  edited  over  the  long  course  of  its  life,  with  dissonant  verses  being  struck  and  many  canticles  being  added.  the  original chant  of  light  consisted  only  of  the  portents  -  the  canticles  threnodies,  andraste,  trials,  and  transfigurations.  the  original,  unedited  version  of  the  portents  is  the  base  of  the  nevarran  chantry,  refusing  to  accept  the  addition  of  canticles  written  since  the  original  hymns  were  collected.

the  version  of  threnodies  used  by  the  nevarran  chantry  bears  more  similarity  to  the  original  oral  tradition  titled  “ the  slave  dirge ”  than  the  current  canon,  though  the  messages  relayed  within  regarding  the  creation  of  the  fade,  the  defiling  of  the  golden  city,  and  the  actions  of  tevinter  magisters  are  much  the  same  as  what  might  be  heard  in  ferelden  chantries.

the  canticle  of  andraste  is  a  different  version  of  what  is  current  canon,  though  that  is  not  surprising  seeing  as  it  is  the  most  disputed  canticle  in  the  chant.  while  the  chantry  claims  their  canon  is  the  oldest  version  of  the  canticle,  the  nevarran  chantry  insists  the  version  used  within  nevarra  predates  it  by  at  least  fifty  years.

the  canticle  of  trials  is  the  most  similar  to  what  is  considered  canon  within  the  greater  chantry,  though  they  are  largely  untranslated  and  remain  as  close  as  possible  to  the  original  alamarri  hymns  and  prayers  they  were  orally  passed  down  as.  it  is  not  unusual  to  hear  them  in  either  alamarri  or  tevene  at  nevarran  chantry  services.

transfigurations  is  the  largest  departure  from  the  chantry  canon.  the  sermons  of  andraste  are  most  often  recited  in  tevene,  though  not  the  version  written  by  archon  hessarian.  the  canticle  still  preaches  that  magic  exists  to  serve  man,  but  the  preaching  that  departs  from  that  is  far  less  wide - reaching.  rather  than  this  canticle  calling  for  the  leashing  of  mages,  the  nevarran  chantry  views  the  use  of  magic  as  a  tool  rather  than  an  inherent  danger.  a  sword  is  dangerous  in  the  hands  of  someone  who  longs  to  harm  you  -  if  that  sword  is  taught  to  defend  rather  than  lunge,  the  risk  of  magic  being  turned  against  the  maker’s  children  is  far  lower.

as  a  result  of  both  the  culture  surrounding  death  &  necromancy  /  the  mortalitasi,  as  well  as  the  differences  in  how  the  canticle  of  transfiguration  is  translated,  how  mages  and  circles  are  regarded  is  vastly  different  in  nevarra.  mages  are  not  put  into  circles  -  they  are  allowed  to  live  freely,  but  are  by  law  required  to  attended  several  years  of  schooling  at  the  college  of  magi.  this  does  not  end  in  a  harrowing,  but  a  display  of  control  over  magic  that  is  considered  acceptable  by  the  council  of  mothers  as  well  as  a  similar  council  of  templars.  if  this  test  is  failed  they  must  spend  more  time  at  the  college,  but  they  are  able  to  take  the  test  again  after  further  control  is  learned.  once  it  is  passed,  mages  are  allowed  to  live  freely  within  nevarra,  though  they  still  have  a  phylactery  in  case  of  abominations.