#✕. queue

[rovgefonce]

    It is no secret that James Hazard is sort of a dumbass. Not logically per se — though his current position points to the contrary — but in a street smart kind of way. Fit as he is, he won’t fight back when he knows he deserved it. This is one of those times. Considering WHAT he pissed off, he stood no chance anyway. He only wanted material for his book… Turns out not all supernatural creatures like being interviewed.

    Thankfully someone walks by. James waves at them with a bloody hand, the other covering a leaking wound on his side. It’s a GREAT way to greet people on the street, really.     “Oi, can you maybe… ‘elp me out…?” He’d use his phone but it’s nice and he doesn’t want to get blood on it. And also his hands are a bit too shakey.

[rovgefonce]

    “There’s a theory ‘bout those mattress stores — y'know the ones that get no business but stay open? People think they’re a front for the mafia an’ money launderin’. That makes sense, but I got another idea…”

    “…Fairies. Ya go in, lay on a cozy mattress, lose track o’ time… an’ they keep ya trapped in there.”

[rovgefonce]

[finecorpse]

✖︎. bythestone ( starter call )

Filtered phrases slip through her mind, lips opening and shutting moments later. ‘Tis not the sight she expected to see -- nary so, she knew the Hero of Ferelden bared a dwarven heritage and that did not bother her one bit. But perhaps it was in the sharp contrast in which she held herself to that of the Inquisitor. No matter, the aid of the Wardens had been welcomed into her halls all the same and a cordial visit had been deemed appropriate ( especially by her Spymaster’s standards ). 

She is all teeth with her smile, loathed to have it reach her eyes. Crow’s feet crinkle and lips finally covered battered maw, carved out of porcelain and bloodied intentions. A corpse with a soul, Eyual Lavellan breathes a sigh into the air and tips her head downward for proper respect. 

                ❝ -- I did not expect to see the famed Warden Commander here in my halls so soon after Adamant. ❞ Or at all. ❝ Did you fret for your Orlesian brethren so that you held off your venture for this... Cure? Or did such a thing come to an end. Either way, I assume you’ve been treated appropriately. ❞

[finecorpse]

✖︎. ataashe ( starter call ) 

            ❝ -- I’m not entirely sure this is the wisest course of action, ❞ it’s a slow start, an even drawl that slithers along her lips. Her wary gaze locked just beyond the bulwark of a broad shoulder belonging to the qunari amongst her ranks. Her palms itch, gripping taut against a wooden staff. Such a jest left her tongue in the earlier day about the possibility of thieving something precious from a beast belonging to flame -- She had not expected to be taken seriously. She never expects to be taken seriously.   ❝ It was only truly a joke when I suggested that we might pilfer a dragon egg and now you and the dwarf rather... Involved in this farce. ❞

[finecorpse]

✖︎. prophetry​ ( starter call ) 

‘Tis beyond the most fathomable consequences that one shifts between dusty tomes and rotted vellum, fingers bleached with chalk skirting from paper to paper -- never finding, always searching. She grieves the loss of archives, the loss of order. For humans to waste, to forget that which is written... Her nose crinkles in irritation, skull jerking up to note the audience that a she-elf now shares. 

            ❝ You shemlen, ❞ the necromancer starters, teeth chattering whilst wills combat a rage bellowed. Her jaw tenses, clipping back. It is not the Inquisitor that she is angry at ( not this time ) and to hold her as merely an outlet? Perhaps the woman who wants for the sky deserves not the pestilence brought forth by forked tongue. ❝  --  are so careless with your histories. Do you know how many clans would love for a library like this, a written word, and it’s just... Stored down here, in this dank, dark place.  Is even half of Skyhold aware of library beneath the main floor? ❞