* oh, grey warden .

AFFILIATED & PRIVATE loghain mac tir. independent friendly blog @atonings R18 READ RULES BEFORE FOLLOWING

[roseoath-blog]

—✕ █ ▌The TEMPTATIONS of Hell are so great, that even those prudent individuals proud of their temperance are weak to such machinations. It is an UNDERWORLD created to wear upon even the strongest of souls, he's come to realise with clarity and pain.

A sigh of relief is exhaled without much thought, head shifting to glance into the eyes of the female. DESPITE her age, she's alert in posture, stature not too different from Loghain's, particularly in his youth when his love for his family hadn't yet worn him away into a softened pebble of a man. This woman could just as EASILY be his friend as she could his foe.

❝Is that not why they say that CURIOSITY killed the cat? Though it is a double-edged sword — hasn't curiosity not led to many great discoveries?❞ He presses his hand against the underside of his chin; it isn't likely he's to discover anything great in this pawnshop. ❝At my age, there's a great MANY things I could be looking for... in truth I don't know and I wouldn't even know if anything is worth the price.❞

[roseoath-blog]

—✕ █ ▌Biting words he may perhaps provide, but those were mere simple truths and not remarks laced with malicious intent. There's a quirk of his head at an angle, still taking in the appearance of the young royal with SHREWD eyes. He's always been a watchful sort of man, an observant individual above all else.

If ANYTHING, the youth's presence may yet provide a healthy distraction from the addiction threatening to weigh down upon him. Teeth GNAW upon the inside of his cheek as he contemplates, before a tomato is plucked with a snap. The edge of a thumb brushes against the skin; what could be the cost of this action be?

❝Harsher? Did you expect every inch of this afterlife to be CRAWLING with depravity?❞ It would make sense to him, for is the goal of the DEVIL not to punish his prisoners? Even so, he thinks about how a simple taste of a tomato could plunge him into the deepest of longing. ❝I disagree ...❞

Thoughts INTERRUPTED as he quietly thanks the young royal. This tomato is inspected like the others, and lo and behold, the youth is not a lost cause after all. A faint smile tugs upon his lips as it joins the others in his basket.

❝You see ... when you are given a TASTE of heaven, it makes the rest all burn even more. Take these tomatoes. There's a chance they may indeed be GENUINE and uncursed. They could be the most delicious tomatoes in the world. They could leave us craving for more and being driven mad over such a thing. Sometimes even the kindest of gifts can be the most terrible.❞

[roseoath-blog]

—✕ █ ▌He does not care if he's PUSHED into the waters; perhaps if he is lucky, this is all a dream, and the thought of being torn apart by the river would wake him up. Despair, an unfortunately fitting word to describe his fragile mind; Loghain knows not what to do yet. Is there a need to survive when you are not even ALIVE?

The demon's words FLOW through one ear and out the other. He's focused on nothing in particular and everything at once. Dull eyes lower to take in the slow ebb and flow of the waves before him. Grey and black glassy waters shift and flow like a RIPPLING mirror before his eyes.

Loghain TENSES at another voice, fingers curling into a fist as if in anticipation of a fight. Dulled senses he may have, but a PROTECTIVE nature is naturally his to own. The least he could do is defend the being who chose to help.

❝You're no demon,❞ he mutters, offering a lame DEDUCTION in regards to the monstrous creature. If he were a demon, he'd react differently, right? Loghain hesitantly stands to his feet.

❝Yes, I am RECENTLY deceased, what of it? Surely you arrived on the same boat.❞ Brilliant eyes scrutinise the newcomer. He's never met a living being lacking skin and hair and proper eyes, but in his own fashion, the skeletal being is ... intriguing. Arms cross over his chest. ❝You're not FOOLISH enough to try to sneak back, are you?❞

[shittyrpmemes]

* ∘ ∙ — misc sentence starters (pt 3)

“revenge smells so sweet.”

“i know a few things about love. horrible, terrible, awful awful things”

“it’s not that they’re evil. they lack empathy & go into a dissassociative state & commit atrocities”

“oh, how the turntables”

“what a beautiful fucking day. nothing beats this shit”

“doctor called me sick. i said tru”

“local dumbass knew what they were getting themselves into & did it anyways”

“please have a curhs on me but also don’t cause that’s a lot of pressure”

“spongebob dies in infinity war”

“home is where i feel empty on a sunday”

“life ain’t all burritos & strippers my friend”

“well, that didn’t work”

“it really be like that sometimes”

“do you want salt with your answer?”

“you had sex how many times? yeah, that’s not technically a bromance”

“love is a neurochemical con job”

“i’m in love with you but you’re a little shit”

“i’m gay & also stronger than all of you, so don’t try any shit”

“it’s a shock every day to remember i’m cute & amazing”

“i don’t remember falling in love with you.”

“shit’s fucked up!”

“life is just a series of sidequests & grinding until you’re strong enough to fight your dad”

“my priorities aren’t straight & neither am i”

“birth is a curse & existence is a prison”

“i am often seized by the fatal need to have a pretty good time”

“hey there demons, it’s me, ya boy”

“shoutout to my depression ya stupid bitch”

“don’t talk to me.”

“i don’t friggin give a heck”

“what do you do when you’re crying again because women are so pretty”

[milamai]

What if..? (by Milamai) 

[roseydoux]

[roseoath-blog]

〔 SYLVANAS WINDRUNNER 〕 @forsakenwarchief // gluttony.

—✕ █ ▌It is still UNCLEAR whether he believes in the rumours or not.

The idea that Hell would provide a LITERAL garden of starvation is not a strange one; knowing of the monsters who run this place, it speaks volumes. that they would toy with their prisoners in such a way. He gazes into the NOW EMPTIED bottle of his ale and can't help but wonder if he's already in the garden. ❝Fuck you,❞ he whispers to the bottle. Fuck addiction.

The man who is seated next to him is CERTAINLY more than a few screws loose in the head, though perhaps he too has drunk more than he likely should. An unreliable source of information like every other being who brought up the FABLED garden.

❝How do you expect me to find this garden if you don't even know where the fuck it is?❞ Loghain snaps, slamming his bottle against the table. He ignores the hush that settles over the room as is TYPICAL fashion to his ever dwindling patience. ❝Come back when you're sobered up. Or not. I don't care.❞

[roseoath-blog]

〔 SELVARIA BLES 〕 @cymatillis // pembrooke pawnshop ; greed.

—✕ █ ▌He does not know what it was he expected. What use is there in anything this Circle provides if not to taunt those who cling to material gains. As it is, even Loghain is TEMPTED to seek one of the objects the pawnshop carries, for even he has material objects of sentimental value.

Yet, is it WORTH it?

CAUTIOUS eyes wander over the wares on display, seeing not objects of use, but those that must have meant a great deal to long gone individuals; literally priceless objects before his eyes. Fingers wander over the thin layer of dust that clouds countertops, shadow crisscrossing these items of import.

The longer he PROCRASTINATES in offering the employees a proper answer, the antsier he grows. What use would a memento be? Certainly nothing, unless such memento was the prized armour he wore those many years ago at the dawn of the Dragon Age. Such value would likely cost him an arm and a leg.

❝An INTERESTING set up,❞ he murmurs. ❝Like being drawn to a spider's web.❞

[roseoath-blog]

〔 SOLF J. KIMBLEE 〕 @alchemistofred // lover's grove ; lust.

—✕ █ ▌❝A hat?❞

Loghain can't say this is all too SURPRISING a sight, not with the way that they keep taking more and more from their prisoners. Unbreakable eye contact with marble eyes while his hand snakes up and tugs the object from an outstretched hand. The dolls still stare, UNBLINKINGLY upon his figure.

❝The owner of this thing better be GRATEFUL,❞ he mutters, tearing away from the doll with utter distate.

They're everywhere.

Loghain assumed that with a name like this, he'd find RESPITE. He supposes that compared to everywhere else, the grove is harmless, but he's uncertain as to whether that would remain or not. With hundreds of eyes upon the back of his neck, clawing hands, and deformed, sensual posturing, he feels as if he's interrupted something ... PRIVATE.

A man could grow LOST here quick. A sobering thought indeed as he returns to his journey, expression something akin to seriousness as he moves. ❝Find whomever owns this thing and head back out. Sounds EASY enough...❞

[roseoath-blog]

〔 LEO 〕 @duscast // long pig farm ; gluttony.

—✕ █ ▌This is perhaps the CLOSEST he may get to being home; perhaps, being a key word in all of this. He can't help shifting his line of sight towards the forbidden doors shut tight. This is Hell. This is Hell. Remember you're in HELL. Eyes return to the fuzzed stalk of a stout tomato vine, lifting to observe a muddled red reflection within the fruit. Don't look. Don't think.

It is of RELIEF to feel the flicker of a shadow across his form, a healthy distraction from the possibly sinister out of bounds nature HIDDEN within. A snap as he plucks the plump tomato from the vine, fruit settled atop a pile of others. He shakes his head, wiping away sweat with the back of a hand.

❝Don't you look like a FANCY lad,❞ he remarks, crystalline eyes squinting in mild suspicion. ❝Must say, you look like the sort who had servants do this for them.❞

Yet he holds his tongue against lashing further quips, wandering stare taking in the hardened features of the young man's lips and eyes. ❝Say...❞ he begins cautiously. ❝Do you even know the RIGHT ones to pick?❞

[roseoath-blog]

〔 ZERO TWO 〕 @strelitzero // beyond the veil ; lust.

—✕ █ ▌He's not much interest in the patrons of the club. Perhaps there may come a MOMENT in time when his resolve wears and he demands a longing for peace, but for now, punishment is accepted with good grace and resignation. He deserves a life in Hell; why would he take pleasures that are offered? All he wants is a chance to REDEEM himself one final time.

That being said, these sort of establisments are REMARKABLE in squeezing out information and making deals. Perhaps it is even one of the safest places in this afterlife, if the Madame's rumoured ironclad fist is any INDICATION.

❝Hey kid,❞ Loghain grumbles from beneath the club's neon lit signage. ❝You don't look like the TYPE to be found here.❞ He can't help but wonder if he does.

[roseoath-blog]

〔 SIGURD 〕 @dawnofdestruction // gluttony.

—✕ █ ▌He doesn't NEED to eat any longer.

The sensation makes very little sense to him, having to spend the past ten or so years working on a very peculiar, SPECIFIC diet. He isn't quite accustomed to the lack of a growling stomach, to the calories meant to be counted. It makes him ill, and he doesn't know if it is addiction and gluttony that drives him, or the utter sense of WRONGNESS that being here provides.

He doesn't care. He eats and he eats.

❝It is ODD going from having to eat twice as much as an average man to ... not needing to eat at all,❞ he explains, twisting a french fry between index finger and thumb. ❝I FEAR I may grow fat on the food of this Circle, but to live contradictory to what I'm used to? That takes getting used to.❞

[roseoath-blog]

〔 MILLA 〕 @herfall // the valley of cacophony ; lust.

—✕ █ ▌At first, there is SILENCE. Foreboding. As calm as he could be in a place known as Cacophony, he faces the silence with a stone cold expression, jaw set in a grimace at the prospect of the future. ❝Too CALM,❞ he mutters, voice piercing the silence. Echoing, echoing ... Until the noises crash down upon him like a mighty wave.

He wonders how long it would take for this place to drive him MAD. One step following another and the noise grows louder and louder and even louder still. He tilts his head at an angle, pricked ears. Shall he stay any longer? Would insight rest beyond? A man spoke to him of PROPHECY. Is it worth it?

Better to try than to rot in Limbo WAITING for change to be given. Better to seek a solution than to wait for salvation.

❝Do you hear anything INTERESTING?❞ He shouts over the whirr of an invisible buzzsaw.

[roseoath-blog]

〔 ORION HUNTLEIGH 〕 @skhizma // the citadel ; limbo.

—✕ █ ▌The building's structure is an entirely UNFAMILIAR make to him, and nothing at all like the creations of his faith. It is his relief at least that the creatures who claim this citadel as their own are not of his homeland or of the Fade that rests just beyond. A palm rests upon a crumbling stone, watching dust and rock SLIP through his fingers when he pulls it away. An ancient thing, far older than he could imagine, though history has always been DIZZYING to him.

Hell is still much of a MYSTERY to him. Oh, he knows what it means —- fire and brimstone and punishment for one's sins -— but his questions are often met by scathing stares.

What is a man to a God he doesn't know about?

❝I don't know if I BELONG here,❞ he says with a sigh. ❝I do not mean that I am holy, simply that where I come from this isn't where you go when you die. I know no Lucifer in my world and demons look ... rather DIFFERENT to me, really.❞

[roseoath-blog]

〔 EDMOND DANTES 〕 @demonofmontecristo // the homes ; limbo.

—✕ █ ▌Fingers WEAVE over tall grasses, roughed blades tickling the leather of his gloves. He'll have to devise a plan to keep his lawn to be cut short; it isn't as if there's an abundance of shears in the landscape of Hell, nor in the grey nothingness of Limbo. He doesn't keep his hopes up, not about the location, not about ANYTHING, but for once he can pretend this is normal, healthy even.

Cautious eyes take in every PASSING individual as if searching for weakness or perhaps, more accurately, a knife through the dark to stab him in the back. The Warden leans over the warped wood of a fence — his fence, if there's not a soul to swipe this house from him. The home is nice, as nice as he's LIKELY going to get; it would be a shame for him to settle for less.

❝Do you live in the neighborhood?❞ He questions a man who LINGERS perhaps a fraction too long to go unnoticed. Loghain balances his palms upon the wood, not at all threatening, though with a rigid stance and bright eyes. He's not here to let squatters walk all over him. ❝Hell is rather LOVELY this time of year.❞

[roseoath-blog]

〔 MORDRED PENDRAGON 〕 @perfidiam // last chance casino ; greed.

—✕ █ ▌He's not a gambling man, a GREEDY man. What he's done, he's done for his people. His friends. His family. How could a man like he allow selfishness when the weight of his past rests HEAVY between his shoulders? All he's done rests on a calculated path — towards freedom, towards the future.

Leaving it all to luck? How ridiculous.

But a man needs something keep himself SANE, and in hell, everything is a risk.

❝Excuse me Ser,❞ Loghain asks the armoured woman. ❝How do you fare in card games?❞

An odd question? Perhaps so ... He tilts his head at an angle as he observes her. He knows his fair amount of knights lacking in a STERN code of honour; knighthood never quite proved to be a deterrent from the lives of vices.

[roseoath-blog]

〔 W.D. GASTER 〕 @voidata // the acheron ; limbo.

—✕ █ ▌Were he in better spirits, he'd comment — and sarcastically so — upon the FALSITY the calmness the river provides, yet he is still in shock even as he's deposited upon the shore. A TERRIBLE FATE —— that makes sense to him —— but his surroundings and their nature are not what the lay sisters sung of. The Maker didn't judge him. No one did.

What is this place?

Whatever it is, it is sickening, HELLISH — though he does not complain. Eyes distant as if in a dream state, chest pulsing with the Fear Demon's wounds ever still. An idle hand wanders over a gouged abdomen ... and feels nothing. Is there a special place in the Fade for those TORN APART within the Maker's realm?

He walks away from the now departing Charon, footsteps slowing with every step. Planks of wood creak under his movements, the weight of the docks squeaking as he takes a seat upon an upturned barrel.

❝Are you planning on sitting there ALL DAY?❞ A voice calls. Loghain lifts his eyes to gaze, perhaps mournfully into those of a rather small demon with perhaps too many teeth.

❝What are you going to DO about it?❞ The old Warden snorts with a tilt of his head and a wrinkled nose. ❝KILL me? I'm already dead.❞