sea bound.

every good thing, i kill it dead. ind & selective dragon age oc. by bean. established 5/1/16.

[wifiandbow]

#my precious cupcake 

[celebritiesandmovies]

[latrocinor-blog]

@vociivus​.

“ If you’ll be wanting passage to Jader, it’s gonna be a hundred royals at least. I can’t negotiate that for you. ” It’s not often that the Armeria takes on passengers at all -- not while he’d been a part of the crew. But if it meant extra gold, and they had a few extra beds... well, where could the harm lay in offering help at a pre-determined cost?

[latrocinor-blog]

“ i tried to sell my soul last night -- FUNNY, he wouldn’t take a bite. ”

[latrocinor-blog]

“are you drunk?”

SHE asks him the question JUST as he is about to throw back another of Orlais’ ridiculously sugary and colorful alcoholic drinks. Val Royeaux’s taverns are… over the top, too fancy, and everything they don’t need to be, but at least he can get drunk.

THE small cup that BARELY fits inside his hand is slammed down onto the tabletop, spilling drops of liquid askew across the wooden surface. He gives her a toothy grin, and reaches for the next one. “ No. But I’m trying. Care to join me? ”

[latrocinor-blog]

@magexkiller.

HE dislikes Orlais -- specifically Val Royeaux for any number of reasons. They have stacked higher and higher during his time on the Armeria, and unfortunately, they won’t be dwindling anytime soon. The only good thing about Val Royaux? The small pastries, colorful and tiny at the same time. He’s always had an affinity for the delightful things, ever since discovering that he could eat them without anyone saying when or where. Small freedoms are indeed larger discoveries, ones that have impacts on his every day life more than Iiren had ever expected. He is looking at a... cupcake, one of the bakers had explained.

IT looks to be more frosting than actual cake, with a lime green tint to the white. There is a small cherry on top, even, and he wonders if it is worth spending a whole three royals on something so tiny. He can feel his mouth watering, and Iiren idly licks at chapped lips. He looks up to speak with the employees of the minuscule stall, reaching for his coin purse, when something catches his eye. Well---- not something, but someone.

FREEDOM from a life of chains in Tevinter is hard to come by. Indeed, he had struck metaphorical gold when Captain Balthasar had rammed into Magister Avilia’s massive ship ( the last of her bountiful funds, unfortunately ) and dragged him from a life that surely would have been hell otherwise. To see others that he might even know, if not by name then by face? Well, that’s... it’s incredible, and he is fleeing from the stall and rushing in the woman’s direction, long legs carrying him far within seconds.

“ EXCUSE me! Hey! ”

[latrocinor-blog]

“you’re an ass.”

“ BUT you love me for it. ” It’s spoken with too light a tone when his face is covered in his blood, and his nose hurts like a bitch. Don’t get into bar fights, Bal had told him, and Iiren had evidently decided not to listen to it. He snorts, and the elf covers his face with a brown-red stained rag torn away from his shirt. He gives the human a confident smirk, dazzling and blood-stained teeth shining. “ Right? ” His voice takes a sudden turn towards serious, but he’s averting his gaze before Balthasar has the chance to answer.

[morleybell]

I’m alone. 

[sorta-ish]

Look at us both. Covered in other people’s blood and talking about morality.

Mitchell (via caedstrade)

[latrocinor-blog]

stellaluminis.

        She does not recognize the ship that has docked,  or the men currently finding their way off it.  And though an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of her stomach,  Nimia does not hesitate in approaching,  as calmly as possible.  She locks eyes with an elf,  gestures for him to come forward.  ❝ This dock is currently being operated by the Grey Wardens ; who gave you permission to be here? ❞

IIREN cannot help but feel discomfort at being expected to go anywhere. It’s a feeling that has solidifying in his chest and simply refuses to leave, no matter how many years it’s been since Tevinter. He’s still learning. Jaw locked, he strides over, looks down at the-- Warden, he’s sure --with as neutral expression he can manage. “ The Inquisition, if I am correct. It seems as though there’s plenty of room for us. We need to repair our ship. ”

[latrocinor-blog]

shepcrd.

          SHEPARD EYED THE SHIP THOUGHTFULLY in the sunlight. All the way down to the pink accents. No one could ever claim that the Armeria wasn’t a memorable ship, at the very least. She was sure even ten years down the line when THE CALLING was knocking at her nightmares, she’d remember that ship. ❝ She certainly is er, quite the ship. How fast does she sail? ❞ Granted, Shepard had never really been one for sailing HERSELF, but she’d been around port cities enough to know a thing or two.

“ FAST enough. ” He supposes that could be considered the right answer, in certain aspects. “She’s built more for power than for speed, but she does what she needs to. Our pride and joy.” That’s the truth, and Iiren knows it: Balthasar practically worships the damn thing, although Iiren could not say he feels the same sort of love -- not that that’s anyone’s fault but his own. “ Do you have much experience with sailing, then? ”

[latrocinor-blog]

like this for a starter maybe??

[ettatheartist]

[latrocinor-blog]

ximisaari.

                   ximisaari is uncomfortable in val royueaux and it shows. he slinks through the tavern like a cat, ready to start up and flee at the slightest hint of unpleasantness. he knows he isn’t thought very well of in this city, or in orlais in general — he’s heard the rumours and read the reports, and he’s half expecting someone to inform him that ox-men aren’t welcome here. but he makes it to liren’s side without incident, thank the maker. gnawing nervously on his bottom lip, the inquisitor shakes the proffered hand. “eh — yeah. wanted tae meet ye myself.”

WHILE Qunari do appear to have a bit of a tendency towards standing out, Iiren is sure that no one would actually dare to try and remove a man of Ximisaari’s size. At least, he can’t see it happening in a discreet manner as Orlesians are so prone to do. Disgust roils in his stomach, but he pushes it down and gestures to the table that he has claimed for his own. In retrospect, it might be a bit small, but they’ll find a way to make it work. “ Appreciated. Normally it would be our Captain meeting you, but he’s occupied with other matters. So I’ll be speaking for him in his place -- hopefully you’ll have the chance to speak with him later. He’s quite an anomaly. ”

[cacciatriice]

eao:

i’m full of love but i’m not soft anymore

[bellskaikru]

There may be blood on your hands, but it’s not Lincoln’s.  Some of it is.

[latrocinor-blog]

he's like that one really aggressive discourse blogger who'll battle anyone to the death or no maybe one of those ones who fights off the discourse with a whiffle ball bat studded with nails, screaming, please leave him alone,

@fademarking.