LOOK TO THE HEAVENS!

well, shit.

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lefthope‌.

being able to see his expression better up close, she realizes he’s analyzing her far more than she realized. beri sits next to her and leans on her, warming her leg and making her aware again of the cold. curling her fingers tightly into the blanket around her shoulders, she simply stares at him, forgetting, once again, how disconcerting she can be, and that there’s a thing called manners. andraste was never very polite either. 

brows furrow, and she blinks as if it’ll help make clarify his words. ‘ you’ve seen elven celebrations? i thought you didn’t like the dalish. ‘

     there is something very familiar about thedas’ inquisitor. ( their herald. ) the way she stares, the way she speaks, the silence that hangs heavy in between words -- there are things she knows that she should not know, things only dreamers and spirits should know. old gods, too, but that is an issue for the future. he knows she holds the same creeping suspicions. there is the faintest flattening of his mouth at her nearly-innocent retort, too-subtle, disapproval filtering in beneath his skin. ‘ yes. ’ he agrees, tone endlessly, blessedly patient.

     ‘ my distaste does not negate the inherent need for knowledge. ’ 

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lefthope‌.

in a way, it’s dazzling. parshakata’s never seen anything like this — but it’s familiar. it’s people gathered around large fires and unsure of what will follow after chains have been unleashed. they were happier then, having just been freed, but just as scared for what came next. she’s aware of solas’ gaze, eyes darting to look at him in turn. for someone of her size, she’s subtle and makes her way to solas without alerting anyone. standing beside him, she tilts her head towards him, ‘ do you know this song? or is it a human thing? ‘

     solas tucks his hands behind his back, ever proper. you’d hardly realize the looseness of his stance if it weren’t for the faint, creeping edge of a smile at his mouth. by the time she reaches him, his eyes have settled on the largest bonfire, on the throng of refugees finding solace as the song begins to approach its end. ‘ quite. ’ it isn’t entirely the answer she had asked for, so he elaborates, ‘ it is newer to me, but they have a great many like this. ’ 

     he tips his head sidelong to study her. ‘ the elves’ own are not nearly as joyous. ’ 

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@lefthope.

     the camp is alight with song, warm with the glow of firelight. ( keep to the stars, the dawn will come -- ) it is a chorus of hope, of dreams, an andrastian hymn as old and new as the land beneath them. the look he spares her is pointed, eyebrows hitched upward by a hair’s breadth, as if to say, now, doesn’t that seem a familiar tale?

[riftbledarchive]

@lefthope your move, bitch.

[minotauri]

mom said it’s my turn to conjure the old gods

[seong-une]

I got @mnesiko for @satinaliagiftexchange! here’s a sera who got happily drunk and dug up a lot of flowers from the skyhold garden and will now cover her qunari girlfriend with smooches. she took a running jump at her because qunari women are very tall and very excellent.

I looked a bit through your blog to see if you had any inquisitor OCs but couldn’t find any so I just drew in my own. happy satinalia!

here’s an extra doodle: 

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lefthope‌.

she looks up in surprise, ready to bolt. most attention is bad attention, what with all the templars and the increasing tension waiting to burst, but the free food and her empty stomach is too much to resist. and, she’s seen him before in the market. he’s never seemed the type to call on the templars to make someone’s life hell. her second thought, after that, is to save it for her mother or hawke. taking it, she breaks off a piece, but reaches for her bag to set the rest aside.

miraculously, a smile is still easy to muster up. ‘ what every lady wishes to hear, isn’t it? ‘

     ‘ i would take it back if it displeases her, ’ he assures. he knows how noblewomen are, though she does not seem it. ( therein, you will find that there is elegance bred and that there is elegance inherit. even as she appears, thin and harrowed, he’s seen enough of her to recognize that hers is inherit. ) she is much too kindly to fit the title. he offers a smile as soft as his bread and as warm as the sun above. 

     ‘ -- and inform her that there is more where this came from. ’ 

[lefthope-deactivated20190330]

i love two gorls in love @riftbled

[inksplit]

[riftbledarchive]

hello dash it’s me again! the winner takes it all is about solas and lavellan 

[riftbledarchive]

mamma mia was written about bianca and varric look me in the face and tell me i’m wrong

[riftbledarchive]

the dangerous edge to listening to abba again is that i want to bring back my donna

[mediuming-moved]

androidelf‌:

(lays back all sexy for u on the bed) (bangs my fuckign head on the headboard)

[rugifs]

[riftbledarchive]

people who don’t wear plaidweave are going to hell 

[hyssrad-deactivated20190821]

sera throws a clumsily tied package towards bull’s head, addressing him only directly after it becomes airborne. ‘look large!’ (it took a lot of asking, a lot of looking, a disgusting amount of coin, and a bit of bullying, too. you don’t often find yellow plaidweave of his size.) ‘open it, open it— or i’m stealing it back.’

HE BARELY MANAGES TO DODGE the parcel as it goes flying towards his head, and only just ducks so it doesn’t get caught on his horns. he gives sera a long and exasperated but fond look — one that communicates ‘ this had better not be bees ’ rather an an oh, for me? attitude. ‘ this had better not be bees, sera. ’ regardless, he reaches back and grabs the package.

it has been clumsily tied, sure, but she’s clearly made an effort. he huffs out a breath, unravels the twine, and has to stop halfway through once he sees the peeking of awful yellow fabric. ‘ you didn’t — ’

oh, she did. a sense of dread and joy alike fills him as he pulls the plaidweave pants out, looking at her with admiration and fear back to the gift. ‘ you’re shitting me. ’

she is not, and he knows it, and he’s going to absolutely relish wearing them.

@riftbled.

[riftbledarchive]

@beforewecrash.

     not unkindly, ‘ oi, hold on -- shut it. ’ 

     sera’s feet keep solid purchase atop a stone ledge, even as she leans to peer over, hand fisted around the arrows in her quiver to keep them from rattling in the silence. a nobleman turns a corner and strides purposefully into the pathway beneath them, masked in a veil of ridiculously intricate silver filigree. she wants to mash it into a jagged ball in her hands. her voice is a disgusted hiss, softer than a whisper, quiet even after he passes. 

     ‘ what a fuckin’ pisser. ’