Fast, Pointy, Brightly Colored

Inquisitor Oleander Trevelyan, at your service, assuming your service doesn't involve anything too stupid. I'm up to my neck in enough of that just trying to put the world back together. {Independent Inquisitor Trevelyan from Dragon Age: Inquisition Semi-selective, multi-ship, multi-verse} Please Read Oleander Open RP Headcanon

[likexafox-blog]

summermagus:

“And here I thought I was the one bargaining for something” he replies with a nervous laugh.

(he doesnt mind the bargaining)

Then he shrugs lamely, unfurling his arms slowly. “It’s not bad… I’m self-taught, but not bad” he admits carefully, idly picking up a spare marker off the side of the map and playing with it.

They may not know each other particularly well yet, but if Henrik is willing to concede that something is ‘not bad,’ then Oleander is fairly sure that means it is, in fact, good. Grinning, he lifts himself up to sit on an unoccupied edge of the war table, crossing one leg over the other.

“My little issue isn’t exactly a secret,” he points out, considering his entire inner circle knows. “And do you know what makes it even harder to hear people talk? Parties. Ordinarily I fall back on lip-reading, but do you know what makes it very hard to read lips? Masks.”

He pauses for a moment to let it sink in, just how hellish the Winter Palace has the potential to be. And then he lifts his hands, long fingers deftly shaping the words {I will need an interpreter.}

[fulluponcrazy]

@summermagus

Keep reading

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summermagus:

“If you were not planning on it before… take me to Halamshiral – The Winter Palace…” he replies rather quickly, voice very nearly crackling.

(it feels silly)

Standing a little taller he forces his arms to his sides, and looks Oleander in the eyes. “I know the layout of the Palace, went there once when I was younger, but….” he smiles shakily then, “In the Circle one of the only things I did was read, and that often times included architectural layouts of plenty of places, the Winter Palace included” he made a small hand gesture to show the connection between the two thoughts.

“There’s hidden passages built all through out the Palace… and I just want to help.” he finally takes a breath of air and folds his arms back together.

Oleander’s grin is easy. “You know you don’t need to twist my arm to get me to bring you along, Henrik,” he points out. And then he pauses as a thought occurs to him, his mouth closing with an audible click.

(He has actually put some thought into Halamshiral and how it will likely go and how he wants it to go. And of some of the challenges likely to pop up.)

“Actually...” he begins slowly, after a moment of pondering. “You’re from Ostwick, yes?” he asks, mostly just to double-check. His smile takes a wry turn as he wonders, “How’s your sign language?”

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summermagus:

Another laugh, and he sends a jokingly harried look towards the rouge, then back to the map. “I don’t know, I know I’m rather bitter when someone stabs me with something” he muses at his own expense.

(of course he’s learned to deal with a vast proportion of his emotions as a circle mage, healthily or not is debatable)

“I don’t see why the map wouldn’t be just as bothered” he offers with a lame shrug, leaning a hip against the stone table for a moment. “I did… I did come here for a reason other than to apologize, granted the was my main worry” he admits carefully, holding out a letter towards Oleander. “My Father sends his regards, and is offering aid in the way of lumber  and ores to the Inquisition” he explains quietly. “And he wants nothing in return… but I do–” Henrik says shyly, wringing his hands together nervously.

Oleander accepts the letter, setting it down on the table to be read in more depth later. Whether he wants anything or not, he knows Henrik’s father will at least get a proper thank you (and probably a token of the Inquisition’s gratitude, if he knows Josephine at all).

One eyebrow raises, both at the statement and at Henrik’s renewed nerves (or...re-intensified, since they never seemed to fully abate). “You do?” he wonders, and for a ridiculous moment he has an urge to reach out and grab Henrik’s hands. He keeps his hands to himself, though.

(it’s a silly thought, he knows, but he can’t help it, and he’s not really inclined to feel badly about it.)

“Well, I’m all ears.”

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summermagus:

“I rather you not go it alone next time” he huffs, shaking his head and curling his arms around himself.

(he can’t imagine how much Olly is hurting)

At the question, a choked noise that is supposed to be a laugh leaves him. “You found my brother alive and well–” he replies simply, “And it’s not like I ever wanted us to stop talking in the first place… I just thought you would have preferred it” he admitted, looking down at the map again, the knives sticking  from it still bothering him. He finally holds a hand out towards Oleander, a sheepish smile in place. “Uh… friends?” Henrik asks a little unsure, even now, maybe more so because of other emotions wrapped up in his embarrassment.

(He can make no promises about going it alone. He hadn’t exactly intended it the first time, now had he?)

Oleander tends to state his preferences. Verbally. To people who are around to hear him state them. But that he keeps to himself. He supposes it’s no longer important, if the avoidance has stopped.

The handshake is slightly awkward, largely because Oleander only ever shakes hands with his right hand at that point, regardless of which hand was initially offered to him. (The fear is groundless, he knows, but he still can’t help but think that touching people with the Anchor is not good.)

“Friends,” he agrees. “Now stop pouting at the map. I assure you, it doesn’t mind in the slightest.” Finally, there is an actual smile.

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summermagus:

Henrik stares back down, and to his clasped hands as he finds his voice. “No I do–” he interjects firmly, swallowing a little thickly after. “You… were right.” he admits with furrowed brows as he finally looks up.

(he wants to hide in his hands and away from the man in front of him)

“I did know.” he replies, careful to raise his voice, and to look up no matter how much he doesn’t want to. “You are very kind, and I was afraid… fortune favors the bold usually, and I was not prepared for what being bold actually gives you?” he sighs lowly. “And I… well lets not dance around it, I panicked” he laughed nervously.

Swallowing thickly he has to look down again, and his voice cracks. “And then you were stupid, and you nearly died saving us all from Corypheus.” Henrik crosses his arms and clenches his jaw.

There’s a flinch--small, concealed, but still there. Haven is gone, smashed to pieces beneath a mountain of snow and ice and rock, and people--people who had been relying on him, screaming for him to save them--are dead, from fire and exposure. He knows he was stupid.

He musters up a slightly more convincing smile. “Next time, I’ll endeavor to chase the crazed magister and his pet dragon off with firmly worded letter. It’s a foolproof plan, surely.”

He leans more of his weight against the table, and after a moment he prompts expectantly, “I nearly died, and that led to an apology.” It’s not that he doubts that the apology is genuine. He recalls waking up in the camp in the mountains, and Henrik had been sleeping less than two feet away, and he hadn’t been there when Oleander had been dragged to his cot. But it sounds like there’s more to it than that, though if not, he supposes he’ll just settle with ‘thank you for apologizing,’ with perhaps an optional ‘are you done avoiding me like a blood plague?’

[summermagus]

@likexafox

Henrik patiently waits, for the meeting to disperse, and he keeps close to the wall as the advisors speak in muffled tones to Oleander on the other side of the door, and Henrik slips in as Cullen leaves last.

“Uh…. Inquisitor?” he ventures quietly, eyes slipping to the map, and the scattered pieces across it, his eyes narrow. “You know… someone spent a lot of time making that” he mutters nervously, “And you’ve gone and ruined it by putting a knife through it” he rattles off, taking a few steps forward.

(it’s different walking around in pants instead of his circle mage robes)

“I wanted to apologize…” he finally mumbles, looking up eventually.

[likexafox-blog]

He’s leaning over the table still when Henrik enters, his attention wandering. He’s not accustomed to other people coming in after the meeting is over. So he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching, until there is a voice behind him and he jerks upright just slightly, his grip on the edge of the table tightening.

His gaze darts away, until he remembers Henrik’s tendency to mumble when uncomfortable, and his gaze returns to the mage. If he’s not going to be able to hear what Henrik says, he needs to at least be able to see it.

“People respond well to gusto,” he offers in explanation. Besides, it’s not as if the map is unreadable. ‘Ruined’ seems a little drastic.

He turns to lean against the table as they get to the actual topic at hand. There’s a small, crooked smile on his face, and it seems out of place. He knows it it’s about; he certainly hasn’t forgotten. Still, he replies, “I’m not sure what you need to be apologizing for,” rather blatantly offering Henrik an out.

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Oleander jerks his hand away from Henrik as if he had been shocked, and for a split second his expression is best described as ‘wounded.’ The look melts away quickly, though, replaced with pleasant, albeit slightly strained neutrality.

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” he points out, his voice light and mild.

(Or at least he hopes Henrik knows he wouldn’t do that. He knows he can tease and poke fun, but he tries not to be mean about it.)

He backs up a pace once Henrik let go of his shirt, putting space between them again.

[summermagus]

“With all due respect… I don’t know that” he replies whisper soft as his arms curl protectively around himself. “I know you are a good man, and your heart is in the right place–” he begins, a quake in his tone. “But for each of those things I do know about you, there are at least ten I don’t” he swallows, hazarding a glance up enough to catch the wounded look, and his stomach drops.

(of course he’d ruin this too)

He speaks again with a strained voice, trying his best not to waver anymore. “I know that I am not in the circle anymore, but I can’t help but fear for the need to return” he admits, arms dropping slowly, reaching out with care towards Oleander once more, “And for anything I’ve worked towards to be taken away in an instant…” he breathes out lowly. “The Tempalrs have long scared the thoughts away of anything more than…. than wanting” he murmurs lowly, shoulders pulling together tightly as ghost of wounds began to ache.

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For a split second, one of his hands twitches upwards, as if to touch Henrik’s shoulder, before he instead simply clasps his hands tightly together in the small of his back.

His voice is as mild as his expression, though slightly higher than usual with the effort of keeping it mild. “My apologies for interrupting you. My impulse control has never been my best trait.” There’s a twitch of a smile, though the joke is not exactly his fine. “Have a good evening, Henrik.”

He beats a hasty retreat.

(The next time he passes through, there’s a bit of a jerk in his step, as if his boots want him to take a detour, but the rest of him has decided to keep going forward. In the end, he carries on, gaze fixed ahead on his goal.)

[summermagus]

@likexafox cont. from x

He stills, not expecting for the other to actually do it. He had said it as a joke… and yet, here Olly was, and Henrik couldn’t help it when he pulled back:

“Are you… being mean?” he questions, fingers tightening in the other’s shirt as a reflex. Not to let him get away if he was, and his knuckles paled as he held on, before Henrik released altogether, and he swallowed thickly.

(he couldn’t take a tease like this, not from Oleander)

“If you’re doing this as a joke please don’t” he begged the other, staring at the ground now.

[likexafox-blog]

Oleander jerks his hand away from Henrik as if he had been shocked, and for a split second his expression is best described as ‘wounded.’ The look melts away quickly, though, replaced with pleasant, albeit slightly strained neutrality.

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” he points out, his voice light and mild.

(Or at least he hopes Henrik knows he wouldn’t do that. He knows he can tease and poke fun, but he tries not to be mean about it.)

He backs up a pace once Henrik let go of his shirt, putting space between them again.

[likexafox-blog]

“Are you going to kiss me, or am I going to have to lie in my journal?” - homesteadonahill

Oleander grins, and he makes a show of carefully thinking the question over before he concedes, “Well, I would hate to turn you into a liar.” His grin softens, and when he cups Henrik’s chin to tug him closer for the promised kiss, the movement is slow, as if he’s half-expecting Henrik to suddenly bolt.

[janna-zimmer]

Cullen Rutherford from Dragon Age: Inquisition.

[theclashofqueens]

[duxbellatorum]

theclashofqueens:

dragon age female companions and advisors // dragon age inquisition 

[skirtish-blog]

SEND ME A BAD PICK-UP LINE

Go ahead and add more if you want!

[skirtish-blog]

“Are you a magician? When I looked at you, everyone else disappeared.” “I’ve been feeling a little off today, but you definitely turned me on.” “Can I get a picture of you? I want to show my parents what my spouse looks like.” “Your hand looks heavy. Let me hold it for you.” “When God made you, he was showing off.” “Your lips look so lonely. Would they like to meet mine?” “What time do you have to go back to Heaven?” “Are you a camera? Every time I look at you, I smile.” “I might as well call you Google, because you have everything that I’m looking for.” “Nice pants. Can I test the zipper?” “I love every bone in your body. Especially mine.” “Are you made of Copper and Tellurium? Because you sure are CuTe.” “Would you like to have breakfast in bed tomorrow?” “Are you a thief? I think you just stole my heart.” “If I could change the alphabet, I’d put U and I together.” “Call life alert! I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up.” “Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?” “I lost my teddy bear, can I sleep with you?” “Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.” “Feel my shirt. You know what it’s made of? Date material.” “If you were a triangle, you’d be acute one.” “There’s something wrong with my phone. It doesn’t have your number in it.” “On a scale of 1 to 10: You’re a 9, and I’m the 1 you need.” “I lost my number. Can I have yours?” “Let’s play Titanic. You be the ocean, and I’ll go down on you.” “Did we have a class together? I could’ve sworn we had chemistry.” “Do you have a mirror in your pants? Because I can see myself in them.” “There are 21 letters in the alphabet, right? Oh, wait. I missed ‘U’, ‘R’, ‘A’, ‘Q’, ‘T’.” “If you stood in front of a mirror and held up 11 roses, you would see 12 of the most beautiful things in the world.” “Are you going to kiss me, or am I going to have to lie in my journal?” “I don’t have a library card, but can I check you out?” “You must be a broom, because you just swept me off your feet.” “Do you like KFC? Because you’re finger lickin’ good.” “What’s on the menu? Me-n-u.” “I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.” “Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” “You must be tired. You’ve been running through my mind all day long.”

[likexafox-blog]

Say It Thrice

@dcpravcd

To say the look on Oleander’s face was less than thrilled was putting it generously. Now, it was true that his life involved a rather absurd amount of killing people, but still, the idea of hiring someone to do the killing for him left a bad taste in his mouth (...the Chargers did not count). But occasionally the Inquisitor needed to be somewhere specific, and he couldn’t be in two places at once. Needs must when demons take the reins, et cetera, et cetera.

(Granted, it could have just been who he was planning on hiring who he objected to.)

His hood was pulled low over his face, possibly because it was a rather bright day outside and possibly because he was attempting to convince himself he was elsewhere (it was not working). Still, his voice was light when he asked, “Are you going to make things needlessly complicated, or can I just give you the who, the when, the where, and the money?”

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I added a tags page. There’s also a link to it on the rules page.

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Two Roads Converge

@flame-of-ostwick

He had not actually seen Lasair for a rather long time. Not since their parents had forced them to break off their engagement over some (probably imagined) slight, when they were little more than children.

(”You’re the ones who made us get engaged to begin with,” Oleander had tried to reason, to little success.)

So when the news of the Conclave, and especially who was wrapped up in it reached Ostwick, to say he was surprised was perhaps an understatement. When he told his family that he was leaving to offer whatever assistance he could to the Inquisition, he did not actually tell them why.

And that led him to Val Royeaux, perched casually on the edge of the fountain, watching the Herald and her...entourage, he supposed, make their way through the curious crowd. Oleander took a deep breath, hopped down to the ground, and straightened up to his full height before making his way over to intercept her.

“Lady Trevelyan?”At least he managed to keep himself from sounding nervous. “Fancy running into you here. It’s been half an Age.”

[likexafox-blog]

Assuming I ever play with any Varrics, they’re free to make up whatever nicknames they feel like making up, but in my mind, Oleander’s nickname is Foxtrot.