Jules of Nature
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@seekerdivine
WHAT DOES YOUR SOUL SMELL LIKE?
CANDLE SMOKE
key words: self-assured, courageous, intuitive. you are an expert at overcoming your demons and should be proud of how brave you have consistently shown yourself to be. others are amazed by your perseverance, strong personality, and unapologetic uniqueness. compatible with: coffee, freshly baked bread.
tagged by: @champions-folly & @kaaras-adaar
tagging: I am so late on this but whoever would like to <3
multimuse page by captainskells (preview) . (code) (single muse version)
about this page:
Tab system between muses and sections
Different examples in the code
All icons are 80px by 80px
Side image is 280px by 400px
Like this if you use it so I can have a look ❤
FAQ and instructions are here
How to add muses?
How to remove links from character navigation (black bar)
credit for icons . .
A QUICK NOTE:
just because I feel bad when others are patient for me, activity may slow, probably going to stick with queuing replies as I can.
Work and the current state of things leaves my mood and writing inspiration greatly shifting each day, also may slowly be working on some info pages for a possible multi 👀
champions-folly:
The moment Hawke turned, weapons out, towards the sound, the Seeker followed suit, shield up, sword at the ready, looking for a moment as if she meant to charge the abandoned house. Hawke would’ve felt sorry for the house. No one could fault her reflexes–nor her willingness to trust that Hawke’s instincts were correct, even though they had traveled together only a short time.
“Yeah, after that,” Theodora replied, trying to soothe her nerves. This place was creepy as hell, even if there was less pollution than Lowtown. She rolled her shoulders and her neck; there was no casual way to talk about how she had left Kirkwall. Fleeing into the darkness cloaked in soot and notoriety after a close associate of hers had blown up the Chantry and she had slain both the first enchanter and the knight-commander–that just didn’t look good, no matter how it was couched. But after that, she had traveled with the Wardens for a time.
“We don’t,” she admitted with a shrug, looking up at Seeker Pentaghast. “If he has been, I suppose we’ll have to give him a Kirkwall Surprise. That is, to kill him,” she clarified. “Without notice. With a knife.” There was nothing called a Kirkwall Surprise, but having come up with it on the spot, Hawke thought it was rather clever. She’d have to tell that one to Varric later. “But I do hope that’s not the case, or we’ve waded through all this wonderfully fragrant algae for nothing.” She nudged a limp pile of seaweed with the toe of her boot as they passed by.
“According to Varric,” Hawke began after a pause, looking up at the sky, “you went through quite a lot of trouble trying to track me down. Now he does tend to exaggerate, and he does love to complain but I have to ask, Seeker–did you really think I could fix all this?”
“Right,” Unpredictable, it seemed a risk but there was little to worry on. They were capable, they outnumbered the man ( as far as they knew ) and it was no secret to be kept that they were to defy Corypheus in his plans of action. The merciless attack on Haven, it would not be forgotten. And this man vying for Godhood would be foolish to think he had startled the Inquisition into a form of inaction.
“Is a Kirkwall surprise really so different from plans going south and improvising?” it’s a bit of dry amusement toward the other. Sounds like something she’d used time and time again in the past, and with their recent streak, seemed to become a universal sort of method. She cannot recall the last time anything went according to plan and didn’t result in death.
According to Varric, Cassandra did not need to specify why sentences that began with such a turn of phrase left her slightly edgy with a groan at the ready to fall from her lips. But the question is a valid one.
“I, it was foolish of me, but I had hoped that perhaps...” pausing for but a moment to collect her thoughts. “You were decisive in Kirkwall. You had good intentions, and if anyone had the drive to get us through this, I would imagine it would’ve been you. I would not expect miracles, who could really fix everything. That is a heavy burden to ask for. But you are capable, you make decisions that need to be made, a natural leader. And the name itself does tend to inspire.”
a brief pause once more, a slight curl of her lips turning her head toward Theodora Hawke, a hint of a tease playing at her words to follow. “Would it be better if I said you were the second option. The Hero of Ferelden could not be located,”
Susan Ee, Angelfall
@goldvned asked: “ i’m sorry to wake you up , but i really need someone to talk to . ”
“Don’t be,” Cassandra woke with an acute awareness and vivid concern once she had processed Yrel having entered her room. It’s plain across her features, something so carefully concealed now caught off guard by the drowsiness fading. “I was in and out of sleep regardless. You can always come to me, any time. You know that.”
There are many burdens upon his shoulders, plain and unspoken. In battle she shielded, she distracted and shot at openings. In peace, she would do the same for him. Be a shield against the darkness when peace of mind was earned. Taking the hits, Cassandra would welcome whatever burdens needed to be laid bare.
Her misty eyes watching him with mild patience. To speak when it eased him. For she would listen.
haeralds:
@seekerdivine liked for a starter!
“You worry me sometimes.” Diantha remarked, sheathing her blades from the last fight and approaching Cassandra. She knew that it was the Seeker’s job to fight, to protect, but even so… “The way you charge into a fight– it’s almost reckless.”
Cassandra could nearly laugh, endearing and appreciative at the display of concern. “Well, I do fight with a shield, part of that does involve blocking thus charging.” she knows it is not what was meant, it’s been a common scolding for years. You’re too impulsive, Cassandra, think before you act. Don’t just throw yourself into the midst of chaos. “Did I seem at risk?”
spitesurvives:
❛ 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 things — elvhen words and phrases i wouldn’t have understood before. sometimes they give me instructions, or warn me when i’m in danger. other than that, the voices stay pretty quiet. ❜ a lie, but ailis sees no use in worrying cassandra when she’s already grown accustomed to the well’s dull roar. ❛ actually, let me see if i can… ❜
she takes a moment to orient herself, just in case. then her eyes go glassy and unfocused, lashes fluttering as she plunges into the well and opens herself to it. the twinge in her face turns into a throb, then a burn, like the pain of receiving her vallaslin but all seared on at once. it’s rushing water in her ears, muffled fragments of a language she knows but doesn’t know. the whispers coalesce into a clearer voice: tel’tath, da’len. she is not ready.
when she surfaces, it’s with tinnitus and a headache blooming behind her eyes. she looks back at cassandra with a flat expression. ❛ you’re not going to believe this, seeker. one of the voices just asked me for a pint. ❜ a joke, but her companion isn’t laughing. ailis clears her throat. ❛ sorry. they’re not telling me anything right now. ❜
a well of sorrows, of course it offered ancient knowledge. An asset in itself and better hands with the Inquisitor than the unreliability of Morrigan. And yet, the danger of its consequence grow greater a burden each passing day. So much of the Temple from what was heard, it felt off. Partaking in magic rituals seemed risky and who really had control over these elements. Who could say for certain, the intent of the voices?
And thus the seeker watches, attune to much of magic through her training but curiosity toward these uncharted waters, a need for understanding burning vividly in dark eyes. Watching, bated breath and a movement once Ailis speaks, but the moment her concern is met with a joke,
Cassandra holds back the groan but still holds a stoic expression. “At least it didn’t cleanse you of that humor.” Questionably endearing, really it needs to be read into. “This way, at least I know it’s still you. ” A brief pinch in between her brows, QUIET should be a blessing, but nothing felt as such. “It is like, they’re looking out for you though?”
Show her that.
kaaras-adaar:
Kaaras softly laughed. He was thankful that she was asking, but it was her that he was more concerned about. He knew she didn’t enjoy being here, but she was an important adviser of his, and a trusted friend–even if he’d started out in shackles no thanks to her. Funny how different things were now for them all, wasn’t it? And Cassandra had been one of he first to think something important of him, and not just a liar who had murdered the Divine. Just a mission failed. A terrible one, and one that Kaaras likely would never forgive himself over. He may not have followed the Andrastian faith as closely as Cassandra did, but he still considered himself Andrastian, and a child of the Maker.
“I’ve had worse,” he confessed with a smile as he leant against the railing where she stood, linking his gloved fingers as his elbows rested casually. “Despite it all, I am enjoying myself. It’s not every day someone like me gets to step foot in a palace like this, and so close to an Empress. A shame the circumstances, really…” He frowned then, knowing that this wasn’t a trip for pleasure, but for business and addressing a plot to kill.
“You on the other hand, you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself. Is there anything I can do to make your experience a little better?” he asked sincerely. He didn’t like to see any of his companions in irritation or boredom, but there wasn’t a lot they could do here other than keep up their appearances (and discover what was truly going on).
“Perhaps a dance later?”
Growing up around this sort of grandstanding and elegance, it’s quick to forgot how uncommon this could be. “I am glad to hear you are enjoying yourself,” even if she was not. “The Orlesians do seem to enjoy their finery.” it’s the most she will concede to the styles. The decadence balanced by fragility. The most rare of artifacts upon display, and bragged about, as if these were trinkets of their own victories and not passed down by those who actually performed such feats.
“It’s not that I am not enjoying myself,” a lie, and she was never a good liar. “There’s just too much familiarity here, reminds me of many a party thrown by my uncle, back when I was kept in my pretty little cage.” The only pretty thing about her through the rebellion and dirt-stained dresses. Everything perfectly placed and designed, everyone in place except her.
The dance though, her throat bubbles a near chuckle, not at the thought of sharing a dance with him but more for the mere formality of Cassandra dancing in general. Unless he was longing for bruised toes.
“I don’t dance, Inquisitor. Though for you, maybe.“ it’s a weak excuse, turning toward Kaaras with curiosity, “Do you?”
@tempermodest asked: “ i will always believe in you . ”
It’s touching, to be shown such DEVOTION in return. Cassandra was never good at taking a compliment, struggled to express her emotions and passions in the overactive way the characters in her silly romance novels did. But to hear these words from one who she revered as more than just the Herald of Andraste, someone she hoped to be lucky to call a friend.
“Always is a strong word, be careful what you commit to.” but her eyes crinkle on the sides slightly, gratitude dancing slowly upon her features. “Thank you. - Believing in our cause has been easy, in you as our leader- has come easier still. But in myself,” it trails off,
She could believe in where she placed belief. At least there was that much.
lathsuledin:
❛ why is it that I’m not convinced, Cassandra ? ❜ Lathas chuckled & tilted his head, visibly amused. he observed her with a keen gaze, noting her tone of voice. she seemed amused by his previous statement, which hinted that she had not expected it. Lathas simply refused to believe that Cassandra would not be anyone else outside of the inquisition - they all were, after all. ❛ will you be honest with me ? ❜
“I suppose I will,” when had she not been? but all that had to do with duty, professionalism - personal vulnerabilities that could result in shame was different. “I read.” she doesn’t have to admit to WHAT it involves. Let there be whatever assumption which would likely be associated with her, like histories. “I used to enjoy hawking, racing, and while I do not have any talent in the arts, it would be a lie to say I don’t enjoy seeing it.” even if creativity was beyond her grasp, and she took images too literally, she enjoyed the detail and talent in every line. She enjoyed to hear the rhythmic flow of poetry, get lost in the octaves of tune from the bards. Sometimes, she trains close to the pub, to hear the songs reverberating outside. “And what of you, Inquisitor?”
Cassandra: Writing does not come naturally to me, as I’m certain you can imagine.
elysianfell:
❅ FEATURING : Cirilla Riannon & Cassandra Pentaghast // @seekerdivine ❅ CLOSED STARTER ;; semi-plotted - Dragon age AU
Ciri sat in front of the fight, her palms rubbing together as she glanced around the surroundings. They had left Skyhold to go on their own personal quest. She asked Cassandra to accompany her because she was one of the best warriors she knew, she could trust her at her side. Dorian and Iron Bull were also there, as she knew, and while she didn’t invite him, she knew Cole was following as well. But for now, it was just Cassandra and herself at the campsite. She had made the travel plans, moving along the bay. She planned to find the pass between the Exalted Plains to Val Royeaux. She last had word that he was there, though she highly doubted he was still there.
She knew Geralt wasn’t one for big cities, not unless he was getting work. He might be a Warden, but he helped anyone around who needed it, though sometimes for a price. He wasn’t like the other Wardens, but he was far more effective than a normal bounty hunter, and there were monsters around, and darkspawn, that only he could handle.
But this had nothing to do about the inquisition or about the Wardens, she needed to find her father. With everything going down, she needed to know her father was safe. She never forgive herself, and at least she had some companions who were willing to help. “Thank you,” Ciri finally said toward Cassandra. “I know this is completely off course with the mission but, I need to find him,” She said, as she looked over to Cassandra.
“We’ve been separated for so long, and with everything going down…” She took a breath and glanced at the fire. “He could help the inquisition,”
Cassandra is seated alone with their inquisitor, with Ciri. Sharpening her blade with a whetstone while Dorian and Bull were off doing. . . whatever it was they did. Usually their silence was filled by Ciri, Cassandra would give in and offer questions, listen to the girl speak of her life and experiences. A gentle smile at her spirit, a hope to set things right so that she may continue on as life had planned. That is, if any of them could truly move on.
“You don’t need to thank me.” It’s stern, and after a pause, the seeker elaborates. “You give, so much for all of us already. Besides, this is family. I can understand the importance of tracking that down.” Just as her and the seekers, closest to a current family, and it was a request not taken lightly even among everything they faced when Cassandra voiced it to their Inquisitor.
There should not be guilt for the value and loyalty to one’s chosen connections. “Besides, he is a Warden, and with this calling.” she swallows back the harder truths though. That his mind could already be taken, or desperation of believing in an impending death could be driving him to extreme measures. Hope was a powerful tool, and yes, people called her a pessimist. Such as it was, when voicing things plainly, even if harsh.
But they don’t need that right now. “We will find him, help him, if needed.” Maker, she hopes she sounds more certain of that, as confident as others perceived her. A forceful tone helped the illusion, but truth was she was just as unsure as they all were. Ciri needs better thoughts though, and to bring forth nostalgia may help, “When was the last time you saw him?”
@goldvned asked: “ well , hello sleeping beauty . you fell asleep on me . ”
It’d been a night of talking, planning. Into the late hours, preparing the next steps to rebuild. Focus could only linger for so long, settled beside him as plans turned to memories. Absently sharing moments valued in her shaping toward the woman she is. A lighter Cassandra who could smile more, before stripped of emotion and touched by Faith.
She’s becoming that Cassandra again, a subtle smile finding comfortable permanence upon her features. Questions posed to Yrel, listening with fascination of his training, of an Andrastian faith and teachings. His experience among the ranks of the chantry, when least expected by first look. Eventually softer topics of dreams and laughter of childhood fancies filled the tent.
Cassandra was unsure of when she began to drift at the comfort of a low voice and the way their talk left her relaxed, walls down and vulnerable. That same voice greets her along with the sun the following morning. Cassandra, ever-focused, ever-moving, allows a moment to linger and listen to a resting beat, all before sitting up, back toward Yrel - concealing the minor tint to her cheeks, but a smile.
The Seeker smiled, turning to look toward him, missing some of the warmth from their proximity, the way there was ease to curl up and be held . . . she was rarely the one to be held. “And I take it, you are not looking for an apology?” a crinkle upon the side of her eyes,
one of, contentment.
how many brain cells does your muse have?
you have 78 brain cells
you are very brain celled. what's it like knowing you have all these brain cells and none of them work? my guess is only up to 5 can work at a time. still rude though. leave some for the rest of us.
Tagged by : @victoryrite ( you’re a delight !! ) Tagging: whoever has not and is concerned for their muse’s brain cells
meravaas:
@seekerdivine wants a starter
It has been long enough that Asha finally feels settle in Skyhold. Although Rivella had asked her only to keep tabs on what was happening in the South, to see what it was that had Thedas in such a tizzy, Asha cannot help but be curious about the Inquisition and its founding. Who better to talk to than Cassandra? Luckily the woman is easy enough to find as she spends much of her free time sparring with dummies. For a moment she stays near the tavern, watching, before clearing her throat, “Seeker, do you have a minute?”
Perhaps it makes her predictable, the discipline and control placed to a daily routine. But with constant interruptions and urgent holdings of meetings, nothing would get done without a bit of structure to her day. Rhytmic striking against the dummies, focused and powered, but always attentive to her surroundings regardless. Her training prepared her to hold multiple points of focus. Asha does not catch her off guard, welcoming this break and setting her sword down, as if to welcome a closing of the distance between them. “Of course, is there something you need?”
