SIN-EATER.

BEHOLD, THE BEARER OF LIGHT.

[prophetries]

even the iron still fears the rot ;

independent, selective long-form rp blog for inquisitor evelyn trevelyan, written by bri ( 30+, she/her ) exploring themes of religiosity, repression, self-sacrifice, messianic complexes, charismatic leadership, and crises of faith. veilguard story spoilers present. carrd. pinterest. interest tracker. meme tag. graphics credit.

accompanied by: @berthindeath , @magecrashout / @todrawblood , @wvlfthorned , @coryphcus , @fatescarred / @kismetwilled

[somerhall]

Rhaenyra | 2x05 | Regent HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (2022-)

[multiverse-of-multifandoms]

Emma D'Arcy as Rhaenyra Targaryen House of The Dragon 2.07 - 'The Red Sowing'

[berthindeath]

@prophetries sent: 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇   𝐎𝐑   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒 - CLOSED

long  digits  dip  into  the  endless  sea  of  white  silken  strands,  the  pads  of  his  fingertips  brushing  over  the  column  of  evelyn's  neck  as  the  elvhen  man's  hand  closes  around  it—delicately.  he  cradles  her  like  the  reverent  being  she  is,  solas'  storm  violet  hues  traveling  the  length  of  her  neck,  the  curved  sharpness  of  her  jaw  to  find  her  eyes  peering  at  him.  ❝  is  that  what  you  desire  of  me—  ❞  he  pauses  as  he  leans  in  to  the  crest  of  her  ear,  using  his  loose  grip  to  guide  her  closer  to  whisper  against  the  shell  of  it,  ❝  —vhenan?  ❞

[todrawblood]

[morbidstallion]

two rooks in love & my friend's gorgeous rook that i love to death 💜💚

[theviscuntess]

#THEVISCUNTESS:  ❝  I AM BOTH 𝐖OUND AND 𝐊NIFE.  ❞  a  private  &  mutuals  only  canon  divergent  portrayal  of  blood  mage  MARIAN  HAWKE  from  dragon  age  2  with  main  verse  as  the  viscountess  of  kirkwall.  dark,  nsfw,  dead  dove  &  triggering  content  present.  exploring  themes  such  as  moral  failure &  the  corruption  of  a  pure  heart,  changing  under  grief,  holding  onto  sanity,  losing/having  self-control.  as  ravaged  by  mor  [  21+  she/her  ].

CARRD.  PLAYLIST.  PINTEREST.  MEMES. blogroll: @todrawblood / @osculumabmor

haunting & governing: @prophetries, @rcgueprince, @berthindeath, @mageforged, @lyr1umgh0st

[calellon]

unfortunately i could never be nonchalant because i am not well in the head and also my soul is on fire

[prophetries]

those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven ;

independent, highly selective, long-form rp blog for inquisitor evelyn trevelyan, from dragon age: inquisition. written by bri ( 30+, she / her ) exploring themes of religiosity, repression, self-sacrifice, messianic complexes, charismatic leadership, and crises of faith. ©

[berthindeath]

               DON'T  CALL  IT  A  WARNING  —  THIS  IS  A  WAR

Visit Original Link

【   BERTHINDEATH   】  an  independent  multi-muse  roleplay  blog  with  a  heavily  focused  dedication  to  the  original  character  ‘  gwendolyn  minerva  ingellvar  ’  created  from  a  combination  of  dragon  age  lore  and  original  lore,  please  review  my  carrd  for  further  explanation.  curated  by  bree,  30+,  they/she,  central  time  zone  -  this  blog  is  multi-ship  and  multi-verse.   

   CARRD || GUIDELINES || GWEN'S BIO || GWEN'S VERSE || SECONDARY MUSES

[prophetries]

long, black claw-like fingernails slowly drag the fair, white silk of the hunter's hair away from the soft, supple skin of her throat. she's unable to contain herself as her blood red lips drag over the porcelain skin of evelyn's neck, listening as her heartbeat races and her blood calls out to her. she, who invades and conquers her thoughts, knowing that she was sent to end her existence, she still presses a kiss to her pulse, sighing against her flesh as she murmurs, " you could be so much more, dragostea mea, " her hands traverse as one strokes up into the other woman's hair while the spare splays up her throat into a light grasp. " you could be powerful, beautiful, mine—for eternity. " and she kisses her pulsing neck, her fangs only grazing as she moans into her perfect prey's tender flesh.

Gooseflesh rises along her skin, follows the blooming path of lacquered fingernails. The sisters of Perpetual Absolution warned her that the children of Cain were cunning, devious fiends ever at the mercy of their own base lusts. She was warned that the screech owls, the lilītu, in particular, were adept at reading the desires of mortals and promising fulfilment. How much like their wicked sire, the Father of Lies, the Prince of the Air, to tempt her with her own weakness. Evelyn’s desire to be more, to be something. To rule herself. To feel lips on her skin, to feel desired, to feel that which she never has: love.

Not love. Lust. God is love, and the only true love comes from God.

But why then did God fashion her this way? Why did He give her a heart that races to feel dead-cold lips on her neck? She squeezes her eyes shut, tries to say the Lord’s Prayer, but the vampire’s fanged purr clouds her memory. Her body betrays her, muscles tightening until the only relief she seeks is the feeling of teeth in her neck, of the cool euphoria of her life’s blood flowing over lips and teeth and tongue. Into the promise of a forever in the dark, in her arms.

[lannasroleplaymemes]

Give my Muse a kiss on Anon, but leave them hints as to who it was from!

[prophetries]

a trail of pirate-themed objects begins at the stairs up to the inquisitor's room. first a rather large bronze coin, then a few steps up an olden rusty dagger, a full bottle of very old rum, a piece of rope — the trail is meant to lead no one else but the owner of the chambers up.

would she follow it, she'd find a hand hook, an eye badge, a piece of a ship's sail — the trail curving to the closed doors of the balcony, but obviously left to be opened by the receiver. who hopefully would be only evelyn, given the late hour of the day.

behind the doors stands tulin wearing nothing but a head bandana and a captain's old hat that presently just covers his crotch. the same can't be said for his butt, that feels the full wrath of the chilly air in skyhold. it hardly dampens his anticipation for being found by evelyn in the current state. he thinks she'd be piqued by the foreign objects, perhaps a bit puzzled as to who would leave them, but truthfully no one could make it this far into her private space with her guard dog present.

the guard dog now shifts on his bare feet and tunes his ears to catch any possible noise behind the doors. his eyes instead fall on the necklace that's arranged into an arrow to point toward him. he recalls briefly his interactions with isabela on the quest to acquire the items used as props. she'd asked what they're for and he narrowed his eyes as a scary crow before telling her it was better to not ask. less talking, more giving him the props. they'd finally agreed on their price — a favor for tulin to fulfill — and he'd swiftly made his way back through a number of eluvians.

his hair whips his face, but he thinks he hears something and he braces himself. a figure that must be evelyn's behind the glass hesitates before pulling the doors open. tuiln lifts his chin up and smiles smugly at her. "arrgh?!" he must work on his improv. the elf puts the hat crookedly on his head and reveals a considerable amount of manliness for evelyn. "a pirate at your service tonight, corazon."

Her slippered foot brushes against glass and sends a bottle rolling across the cobbles, the tinkling sound echoed by the vast emptiness of Skyhold’s halls. The Inquisitor takes an intuitive step back, looks down to see where an old dusty bottle of something brown has meandered off to stop against a wall, its contents sloshing. She blinks, rolls up the missive in her hand, and spies knick-knacks sprinkled throughout the hallway, placed on the stairs leading up to her quarters, almost as if left there to entice her forward. It reminds her of the days when she’d find Cole’s stashes of this and that, all with purpose and intention she’d only glean that much later. But Cole is long gone from Skyhold, hopefully safe and sound in a cottage somewhere with Maryden still at his side.

The trinkets stop at her closed door, a solid oak barrier between her furrowed brow and the answer she seeks. She presses the wrought-iron handle and enters. Her eyes dart from the rug to the bed to the nude (or near enough) man standing front and center, a tricorne hat hanging just so from his (apparent) erection. The missive slips from the Inquisitor’s fingers, her jaw drops in silent surprise. She watches, agape, as he removes the hat from its perch and places it askance on his head, baring all without a hint of reservation.

There is a heavy moment of stunned silence as she takes in the sight, attempts to formulate a response, and fails to find words that suit. Instead, a gust of laughter bubbles from her throat before she can clap her remaining hand over her mouth. One more look and the dam breaks, great gales of laughter that could shake the snow from the Frostbacks, tears pricking her eyes as her knees no longer bear her weight and she must brace herself, hinged at the waist, against her door.

When she can breathe again, her stomach hurts from laughing, her eyes are wet and squinting against the icy drafts blowing in from the open windows. Tulin is a specimen unto himself to have waited so patiently and so nakedly in this perpetual chill. This whole production, no doubt, spurred on by some flighty comment about rakish pirates and their damsels. And now she’s not just tickled but touched that he would do all this for her—to satisfy a silly, superficial whim.

“Maker’s blood,” she gasps, her hand falling from her mouth to her chest, willing her breath to return to a normal pace. “It appears a roguish sort has come to plunder my treasure.”

[monstroussuggestion]

Don’t turn away. Look at what you made me.

[kismetwilled]

- A selective/mutual only, multimuse blog, featuring muses from Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Hades, Baldur's Gate 3/D&D, and Honkai Star Rail. Loved by Dani - she/her, 30+, UTC+9 ( Tokyo )

-- 𝑊𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒, 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑑𝑒; 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝘩 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑖𝑑𝑒.

[optional]

EMMA D'ARCY as Rhaenyra Targaryen HOUSE OF THE DRAGON | Driftmark

[todrawblood]