bloody bones & crystal skulls

marian hawke blood mage problematic fav citta

[mageprotagonist]

hawke looks down from a balcony and resists the urge to sigh a little. all she needed at this point was a cigarette, but she doesn’t know what those are. not yet. cliche averted.

whatever she felt like she owed anyone else, all of that was gone. except not really. her heart still beats as surely as her nature remains unchanged. take one forested path for too long, and at some point it’s nigh impossible to retrace the steps. better to press on than to forget who you are.

(what a load of shit)

in all honesty, hawke feels a little bit cheated out of her ending. she wants out, and she’s not sure what she needs to do to get it.

the story repeats. hawke figures that means that she’s only got more treasures to hoard and dragons to slay.

[amihandsome-blog-blog]

He used to like to sit on the walls around Skyhold. His feet would dangle, and he’d kick the air absentmindedly. He could see a lot from up there, and he could hear as well. It was a good place to be when looking for people to help. It was also a good place to be when he simply needed to think.

But… he couldn’t be there anymore. So instead he sat upon a balcony, hidden from view as his legs dangled once more. He had been out there alone for some time, and upon hearing someone even the slightest bit nearby he hid himself. He was trying to be alone right now, after all. So, he tried to pay no mind to them. At least he was lucky that he

Unfortunately, he had forgotten that he couldn’t stay hidden for very long and soon enough, he poofed back into existence. Whoops. Cole shifted awkwardly as he spoke.

"… Hello."

[mageprotagonist]

it wasn't the first time that hawke had become the victim of a peeping tom, and she's arrogant enough to assume that it won't be her last. luckily, her sense of self-importance had never swelled to outright paranoia. it had taken no less than three waves of carta assassins to break into her mansion before she had decided that it was an actual problem.

"have you been here for very long? or are you just a fan?" hawke pauses when she realizes something a little more important. "...you sound ferelden." years of living in kirkwall had beaten the accent out of hawke herself, but she could still hear it from other people.

[mageprotagonist]

hawke had finally discovered the maker’s true gift to mankind in a convenience store: potato chips. she’s not sure if they are what’s attracting a line of stray dogs to her, but she doesn’t really do anything about them. 

which is why hawke is currently walking down the street with a slew of various breeds of dogs who follow her like a duck line. it’s almost like having a full party again, ha!

there’s got to be some ferelden joke tucked in there that she’s  not exploiting. hawke was racking her brain trying to think of one when she bumps into someone and all the dogs end up running into her and it’s just a disaster domino all around.

[abyssalribbons]

Riful had also learned the joys of the convince store. She never seemed to buy enough meat to keep herself feed for weeks at a time. Besides, pepperettes were surprisingly good. They were no human guts, but they were very good. She decided she must have a taste for pork. It was one of the few things that got her out of her house.

When she walked down the streets, these days, her eyes were always on her feet. This made her seem rather meek, but the Abyssal One did this to stop herself from slipping on the ice.

The girl was surprised to feel an impact against her chest. Somebody had knocked her back. She gasped and looked up. she caught glimpse of the other woman before she fell on her behind.

"Hey, watch where you are going!" she snapped as she tried to push herself to her feet.

[mageprotagonist]

it's actually kind of nice that she's obscure enough around these parts to the point where people aren't bending over backwards for potential offenses against the champion.

"excuse--" she's cut off as a dog gives a sharp bark and makes off with a large chip bag. oh no, he is not getting away.

hawke isn't heartless enough to blast the stray with a fire attack. besides, the bag might go up with him. "after that dog!" she runs after him before the other woman can get in another word.

[mageprotagonist]

hawke had finally discovered the maker's true gift to mankind in a convenience store: potato chips. she's not sure if they are what's attracting a line of stray dogs to her, but she doesn't really do anything about them. 

which is why hawke is currently walking down the street with a slew of various breeds of dogs who follow her like a duck line. it's almost like having a full party again, ha!

there's got to be some ferelden joke tucked in there that she's  not exploiting. hawke was racking her brain trying to think of one when she bumps into someone and all the dogs end up running into her and it's just a disaster domino all around.

[mageprotagonist]

hawke looks down from a balcony and resists the urge to sigh a little. all she needed at this point was a cigarette, but she doesn't know what those are. not yet. cliche averted.

whatever she felt like she owed anyone else, all of that was gone. except not really. her heart still beats as surely as her nature remains unchanged. take one forested path for too long, and at some point it's nigh impossible to retrace the steps. better to press on than to forget who you are.

(what a load of shit)

in all honesty, hawke feels a little bit cheated out of her ending. she wants out, and she's not sure what she needs to do to get it.

the story repeats. hawke figures that means that she's only got more treasures to hoard and dragons to slay.

[mageprotagonist]

hawke would probably be corporate corruption incarnate if she didn’t like adventuring so much. some of her thedosian contacts certainly were, though.

"i can’t say i’ve ever handled a satanspawn before, but i’m not against trying new things." hawke looks around. "so what exactly is this ‘right place’?"

[grapedoll-blog]

Corporate corruption and Akane Kurashiki simply went hand in hand. They were going to get along swimmingly, she could tell.

"Goodness. You’ve handled demonspawn but never a satanspawn?" If she was trying to be condescending, she was doing a poor job at it; rather, she just sounded absolutely fascinating. "Oh, my kitchen sink," she adds, with a matter-of-fact tone that would have made even the most deadpan of comedians weep. "It’s absolutely infested." If the other woman wanted to laugh, she’d have to get past Akane Kurashiki’s dedicated whisper, first.

[mageprotagonist]

she's used to dealing with patrons who could possibly be insane, but it was usually on a level of crazy that hawke could understand.

she could laugh, but hawke did't have the full punchline yet.

"a kitchen...sink?" sinks weren't invented until the modern age, silly akane. though hawke will admit that she didn't do a lot of the water-fetching herself when she had perfectly able-bodied servants at the estate to bring her water in a golden basin.

but she'll play along.

"so what is your kitchen 'sink' infested with?"

[mageprotagonist]

at times like these, hawke really did wish that she looked a little more like a mercenary instead of a mage with half a breastplate strapped on. carver would always get all the good looking armor, and the worst thing was that he would complain about it anyway.

hawke really didn’t think that she would be able to find modeling work when she had such bad skin problems.

"i’m really good at solving other people’s problems." by which she meant, she was really good at walking into danger zones and killing the shit out of every shady goon involved. “do you know of anyone with … people problems? or even demon problems, maybe? i would charge extra for darkspawn problems, but i would think about it.”

[grapedoll-blog]

Skincare? What was skincare? Didn’t everyone just, like, bathe in the blood of corporate corruption and call it a day? Who needed a fountain of youth when you had the true secret to immortality.

But upon hearing the other woman’s sparkling verbal resume, Akane’s eyes brightened and she clapped her hands together girlishly.

"Demon problems? Well, in that case, you’ve come to the right place, actually!" For a girl who was apparently standing in the “right place” for “demon problems,” her demeanor was almost sickeningly cheerful. "Darkspawn, hellspawn, you name it— Do you do satanspawn, too, or is that another extra charge?"

[mageprotagonist]

hawke would probably be corporate corruption incarnate if she didn't like adventuring so much. some of her thedosian contacts certainly were, though.

"i can't say i've ever handled a satanspawn before, but i'm not against trying new things." hawke looks around. "so what exactly is this 'right place'?"

[mageprotagonist]

the problem with hawke is, the moment she sees a shady-ass person with completely unknown origins, she instantly assumes that she can take them if things go really sour. hey, at least they didn’t have a full army of metal soldiers standing behind them. now that would be really stupid.

(that isn’t to say that she’s not cocky enough to assume that she would be able to take an imaginary army.)

"hi, i’m the new girl. do you know if there’s any work around here that doesn’t involve taking my clothes off?"

[grapedoll-blog]

Akane Kurashiki was many things, but in possession of a phantom army was not one of them. Nor were the honesty facilities necessary to admit that maybe she didn’t know best in every situation.

Besides, she liked being helpful! Who didn’t. Letting out a soft sigh of contemplation, Akane pressed a hand to her cheek in thought.

"Well, you could probably look for work as a model, I suppose? That would probably count as the exact opposite, at least." Although, being a model would probably also stipulate having to take one’s clothes off at some point. What a dilemma!

[mageprotagonist]

at times like these, hawke really did wish that she looked a little more like a mercenary instead of a mage with half a breastplate strapped on. carver would always get all the good looking armor, and the worst thing was that he would complain about it anyway.

hawke really didn't think that she would be able to find modeling work when she had such bad skin problems.

"i'm really good at solving other people's problems." by which she meant, she was really good at walking into danger zones and killing the shit out of every shady goon involved. "do you know of anyone with ... people problems? or even demon problems, maybe? i would charge extra for darkspawn problems, but i would think about it."

[mageprotagonist]

the problem with hawke is, the moment she sees a shady-ass person with completely unknown origins, she instantly assumes that she can take them if things go really sour. hey, at least they didn't have a full army of metal soldiers standing behind them. now that would be really stupid.

(that isn't to say that she's not cocky enough to assume that she would be able to take an imaginary army.)

"hi, i'm the new girl. do you know if there's any work around here that doesn't involve taking my clothes off?"

[mageprotagonist]

citta had breathed new life into leather and stardust. they didn't call it a miracle, and nobody else seemed to think it was. curious and curioser.

really, the real miracle is that her boots had made it all the way from thedas in one piece.

the first thing that she does is to roll up her sleeves to examine her forearms. the once-angry welts along her scars had mellowed out to the point that they resembled fault lines along her arms.

maybe her blood isn't corrupted anymore. she doesn't know how to feel about that either, but the day is still young. 

this is the part of her narrative where she picks someone as shady as athenril, she suspects. hawke picks a direction and starts walking.  

[mageprotagonist]

[ hi i have no idea what i'm doing. if you would like a starter, send me an ask to plot or like this post so i can write you...something ]