#adrius lavellan

[cdhurricane]

Inktober 2019 Day 8 FRAIL

Adrius Lavellan

[pestopascal]

otherworldly, never-ending

“Elfsblood River.” At the voice, Adrius looks up in confusion. Cassandra looks remarkably awkward, then, shifting from foot to foot. “The Orlesians are far from subtle.”

Part of my trade with the absolutely amazing @cdhurricane! 

Adrius is always so great to work with. And writing out the first steps into the Emprise du Lion? So good.

In one simple, misunderstood word, Adrius would think of the snowfields as breathtaking.

Described in such a way, as they cannot seem to pick up their feet high enough to wade through snow. Conversely used, when they reach the forward camp, and from the peak at where he stands, Adrius can see the spread of a frozen lake, trees caught in time, before him. Of course he had seen snow before, such as the lighter, fluffier stuff in Haven only months before. 

But there was something different, with how the Emprise du Lion seemed to lay before him. No, not  in the way red lyrium jutted out, bleeding red over pure white, no matter what Dorian would argue. Adrius could say, with a certain amount of confidence, that the snow seemed otherworldly. Sparkling, even with the sun gone for another day.

Like there was something wound beneath the ground, as they settle in the camp for the night. It wouldn’t be the first time to consider that veins of lyrium were not six feet below them, making for a show. Or even that the rifts created some phenomenon that others could not quite realise. Whilst he was not blessed with magic, Adrius could feel the thrum of it in his arm, where the mark lay. But here? Amongst the snow and the cold and the fallen towns? His anchor was positively alive.

Idle curiosity has him shove his entire arm into one particular lump of snow, just outside his tent. It melts upon contact. Fascinating.

Sleep does not greet Adrius for some time, as the wind picks up, as soldiers march. From what he picks up from the voices outside, their arrival had not gone unnoticed, scouts seen along the path. Dorian sniffs in his sleep, rolling over. Adrius soon forgets about the soldiers trudging through snow, as he follows Dorian with a smile, curled up against his back. Warmer there, and the cold just disappears into an idle thought. 

When dawn breaks, Adrius is up, ready, hands raised to cover his eyes. Incredible, the first word that passes through his mind, as he’s suddenly hyper aware of heat. Sun reflecting off the snow, throwing light where it wasn’t necessarily needed, and the soldiers were sweating. Not a cloud in the sky to break the incessant pressing. 

Almost like the Breach was just another figment of his imagination, as Adrius couldn’t quite see it. Too much light, burning his eyes, his skin. Where they were, there was no true cover, ruins of abandoned towns giving little break. In Haven, the sun hadn’t quite touched the land like this, and they had been high in the mountains. Perhaps, that was just Ferelden as a whole, where the clouds offered protection. Adrius hadn’t realised how much he missed Ferelden, until he stumbled down the path laid out before them. 

Sticking to trees and shadows, their way forward was slow and careful. Eyes scan the skies, looking for something, anything, that would suggest breaking the incessant sun. He’s almost tempted to ask if magic would be enough to change the weather, but has to catch himself. That would’ve likely only inflamed the situation, in all likelihood. Dorian was none too pleased with the weather, likening it to a summer in Qarinus, whatever that meant. 

Eventually, they reach the great frozen lake. Glitters in the sunlight; oddly enchanting. Adrius doesn’t deny himself a chance to crouch by the edge, reach forward, fingers brushing along the ice. There’s cracks threaded through layers, and he swears he sees something beneath the surface, that flashes and disappears. But it continues to dance, just out of sight. A trick of the light, having him try to keep up.

“Elfsblood River.” At the voice, Adrius looks up in confusion. Cassandra looks remarkably awkward, then, shifting from foot to foot. “The Orlesians are far from subtle.”

Adrius sniffs, rubbing a hand under his nose. “This is the Dales, too. Perhaps they had a warped sense of humour.” His comment didn’t seem to ease Cassandra by much, but she nodded regardless. And he wasn’t wrong, truthfully. After spending weeks trudging through the Emerald Graves, Adrius had long come to expect something twisted underneath what looked like perfectly safe ruins.

Such as a tower, in the middle of a frozen lake, sitting haphazardly in snow. The sun doesn’t shine, when Adrius takes the first step forward over the ice. As if he should expect something. Eyes carefully level the tower, trying to see what it held. Until,

“There,” he says, pointing just right, where the air shimmered. A shame the locals had forgone mentioning the presence of demons so close. Adrius could forgive such a critical lack of information when considering the resident Red Templars, of course. Removing the rift would at least allow for Sahrnia to not be strung up for some time.

Behind him, he can hear grumbling. Complaints. The tender sounds of feet on ice, trying to keep balance, to not fall face first. Around the tower was the smallest amount of land, and Adrius waves Cassandra and Dorian over. Cole, for his part, hovered ever closer. There’s only a passing thought, as Adrius raises his hand towards the rift. 

Could spirits slip on ice, with their newfound corporeal forms? 

When the rift throws itself open, howling screams in the dead of the lake, it was a habit by this point. Arrows released, hand held towards the sky, a few shouts about watch your left or right flank, that disappear with the demons’ screeching. Long nails claw at the ice below their feet, vivid green crawls across the crystal blue surface. Adrius doesn’t have time to linger on the differences between that world and this one, as another arrow catches a despair demon in the forehead, quelling it with a lingering whine that rattles in his head. Louder than usual. 

There was no red lyrium this far from the Keep. It grew towards the sky, haphazard and dangerous, on the trail they did not take. Only in the pass they settled, along Elfsblood River, did it seem the corruption didn’t quite reach. But Adrius was not above considering the possibilities, as the rift takes a fraction longer to close than usual. Almost like it was fighting back, wanting to stay, to continue to spill over the frozen river long until summer broke. Sad that wasn’t feasible to even consider, Adrius thinks with a passing twitch in his nose. Sneezes, despite himself. 

It’s the trek back along the ice that was more sure, more certain, with their feet following one after another. Once they had cased the Tower, settled pleasantly in the middle, in which they found nothing of note, Adrius ushered them back. With the rift gone, unsettling silence had fallen over them. Not even their shoes crunched on the ice, the snow. Adrius breathes deeply through his mouth, clouds of white threatening to interrupt his vision. Was there to be another attack? They could handle it, surely. 

Just a patrol, only slightly more startled to stumble upon his merry little band. As if it had been only them, in the great expanse of white. Adrius understood the feeling, as they try to keep a conversation going, to fill the droning silence. The rest of the way back to the camp was awkward laughter, slight agreements, and a simple wonder when Adrius realised something. 

It had already started to turn. As if the sun had simply had enough, running away until tomorrow. Blinking up at the sky, he could scarcely believe it. Incredible to compare to the Hissing Wastes, which had seemed to never quite see sun, and the Western Approach, which was bathed in the dullest of light. Even Crestwood, once they had ended the storm, was still cloudy, overcast. And the Mire, sunk so far that nothing seemed to touch. Or better yet, the Graves, so thoroughly covered in green, it was hard to believe that life managed to thrive.

Adrius couldn’t remember seeing the weather turn, the way it did just now. He hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye. No longer did his skin burn, or did the reflection along the snow have him cower. Everything had turned… blue. For lack of a better word. As he blinks, once, twice, there is no longer just the thick blankets of white snow. Everything was tinged, from the sky to the trees — to the buildings, as Sahrnia approached — just that subtle shade of blue.

He doesn’t point it out to Dorian, not yet. Just drops to a crouch, fingers wavering over one particular pile, that had been pushed away to make room for another tent. The anchor doesn’t melt the snow, not quite, but where the magic in his hand thrums, breathes, it’s like the world sings back. Blue, green, yellow, back to green, back to blue. Adrius watches as the colour changes when he wiggles his fingers, oddly fascinated. 

Only then does he notice the shadow, just to his left. “Dorian,” he greets, not needing to look up to tell who it was. Even in his shadow, was Dorian’s hair perfectly angled. As if they had not trekked through snow, over ice, nor fought demons with their backs against a tower. Adrius was always impressed by such willpower Dorian could extend towards his outward appearance remaining intact.

Dorian must have seen the changing colour, with how he too drops to a crouch. Fingers tender, careful, as they turn Adrius’ hand over in his own. Where his mark throbbed, on any other sort of day, Adrius was not above saying how he could not focus on such a thing, when Dorian simply held him like this. The anchor just faded into some part of his mind, and Adrius levelled Dorian with a warm gaze. 

“I’m fine,” he says, trying for reassuring. Actually, it was the best he had felt in a while. Perhaps the mysticism of the Emprise du Lion was keeping everything at bay. “It doesn’t hurt.”

There’s a twinge in Dorian’s cheek, that tells Adrius he wasn’t convinced. “But you’re reacting to the area?” Ends in a question, open and inviting. As if Adrius wouldn’t talk to him about every little thing later. There’s a book, that Adrius knows all too well, small and quite easily overlooked, tucked inside Dorian’s pouch. From the look on Dorian’s face, he wished to pull it out, write down whatever he was thinking.

“Vhenan,” Adrius whispers, just the two of them, no one else. Just them, the snow, his hand on Dorian’s cheek. “I am fine.” And, as if to prove a point, Adrius does not break eye contact, not once, as he nooks an arrow, fires through the trees. Only when Dorian looks away first, to see a neat end for one particularly low hanging flower, crystallised and glinting despite itself, does he sigh.

Stands, hand extended towards Adrius, pulling him up with ease. “Tell me if something changes. Please.” Afterthought. So many afterthoughts. Adrius smiles quietly, nods his agreement away. Kicks up powdered snow when the continue their walk. 

Only when he’s away from the camp once more, not so far that he would be an easy target, but enough for some privacy, does Adrius pull his glove off his hand once more. His anchor seems to almost breathe, the vicious green extending between his fingers. Stretching, reaching. Adrius would not say it was alive, not entirely. There was no pain, not this time anyway, but that doesn’t stop him from dragging a finger along the outline, from trying to take hold of the ends of the light. 

He lands in the snow with an oof, distracted now. Overlooking the other end of the river, with the tower hidden behind the trees. Still so quiet, clean, as if not a few hours earlier, had a great rift sat in the middle of the water. Adrius lies back, hand raised towards the sky. The snow was warm, strangely so, like a comforting blanket on a frosty night. Holding his hand higher, until his anchor and the Breach were side by side. What have you done to me? he asks it.

Silence was his only answer.

[theifwerelost]

My part of OC outfit swap with @crashed-down-in-a-hurricane, Sevy in Adrius’ clothes. He looks like a magician lol.

[valerie-royeaux]

A Thorn at His Side

A one shot for @crashed-down-in-a-hurricane, as part of our art trade. I loved writing this! The next one will be for her Frey Mahariel.

Word Count: 2,397 Read on AO3, or continue below.

Cassandra did not budge as the stout shelf rattled on its feet when Cullen’s gauntleted fist smashed against its side. “He is a heathen!” the former templar bellowed, assisted by the myriad of droplets that dotted the woman’s face. She did not bother to clean herself. Her answer was contained, silence during the storm, marred only by her traditional stern Nevarran accent. “He bears the Mark. We have no choice.”

“This is not what I signed up for, Pentaghast. Maker’s breath, in one instant we are following the Divine’s orders, and I am working with her Hands – I can deal with it. I left the Templars, you left the Seekers, we are going to reform them. We are going to go after our lost sheep, slay the wolves among them.” For a moment, it seemed Cullen had been able to regain control of himself, as he leaned against the shelf he had just assaulted, and pinched the bridge of his nose. But soon his voice boiled up and his temper flared up again. “Bring the goddam Chantry back on its feet! But now,” and there he was, barging once more, increasingly closer to Cassandra’s unmoving face. “We are following the lead of a tree-hugging pagan!” The Commander could not believe as not even Cassandra’s brows moved. His eyes widened in desperation, he brought both his hands to his head and, in a swift movement, turned and kicked a chair against the walls of the improvised war room in Haven’s Chantry. He turned again to Cassandra as quickly as he had kicked the chair and pointed at his own face with all his ten fingers, his spit finally hitting the woman straight in the eye and forcing her to wipe it clean. “He has a demon symbol tattooed on his face! All over his face! I tried to turn a blind eye, ignore him like we have ignored the bald mage elf, but he is making the Inquisition be a Dalish thing! He goes, leads our scouts, speaks in our name, and… Pentaghast! I saw children putting that demon symbol on their faces with mud! We cannot have that face be the face of the Inquisition! The Most Holy…”

Cassandra’s disgusted noise finally put a stop to Cullen’s shouts. She pierced him with dark eyes and temperance, and the storming man halted, moved his chin to speak, but didn’t. He took a step back, let his shoulders fall, and looked away. “You will watch as you address the most Holy, Commander. You will respect her memory. And you will understand that it is not our place to question the Herald of Andraste.”

Cullen had both his hands on his hips, and although he avoided Cassandra’s gaze, he would not accept it. “He is not the Herald of Andraste. He. is. Not!”

“I am the Herald of your Andraste”, Adrius Lavellan said, opening the door with the calm that Cullen lacked, and carrying a smirk full of a mirth stranger to both humans. “And her message is: Commander Cullen, there is a stick shoved deep up your ass. Remove it, and use it to help Adrius close the rifts. You know, the thing that must be done? And please, wash it. The demons don’t deserve to suffer the stench of your… deep recesses.”

Cassandra quickly interposed herself between Adrius and the poucing man. Adrius laughed his nervousness in a careless headshake, and reminded himself, silently, not to poke a lion with such a short stick. Much shorter than the one the Commander had up his ass, his mind quickly reminded him, which caused a snigger than angered Cullen even more. “You see him mock our Lady like this and won’t do anything?” Cullen pushed through in between his teeth. His anger, fanned by Adrius jokes, now focused also on Cassandra, who braved it by standing strong. Adrius, on the other hand, preferred to let the current carry him, with idle steps, to the safer end of the room on the other side of the war table. The young elf took a deep breath and ran a hand through his short, straight hair.

“Seriously, man. Chill. I am not the Herald of Andraste, and I am elvhen. An elvhen will close the rifts. One of the people will save the world. Again. From the mess you...” and by you, his hands moved in wide arcs all around him, “...you… You all… You know? Created. If you don’t want to help, Cullen, we have a saying: the door to the street is on the house.” A brief moment of silence ensued as both Cassandra and Cullen blinked at Adrius, who chuckled, and shrugged. “Just kidding. We don’t have streets. Or doors. Or houses. Anyway, if you won’t help, Cullen, leave.” “No.” Cassandra intervened again, stern and contained, before the thunder could leave Cullen’s lungs. “The Commander won’t leave. He is part of the Inquisition, as much as you are, Herald.” “I thought you were at my side, Seeker. You know… He is pretty mean.”

“I am not on anybody’s side. My role is to establish the Inquisition. And Cullen is part of it.” She took a deep breath in, and approached Adrius with a somber countenance that had him on edge. He couldn’t remember seeing Cassandra this way, so judgemental. With the look determined people have when a bad idea grows roots on their minds. Her anger at the prison, back at the Conclave, hadn’t seemed so threatening. “It is as hard for me as it is for our Commander to accept you as part of the Inquisition, Lavellan. You must understand. You pray to wrong gods. And yet, our Prophet sent you to us. And I will always accept a humility lesson, gladly.”

Adrius remained in silence, penned between the peaceful menacing woman and the walls, and feeling like he would have more chances of bursting through the latter. His nervousness showed clearly, and it fed Cullen’s smirk.

“I am simply better at shouting to the inside before I do it the outside. It is a lesson I learned a long time ago. And that most people still need to learn. But you are a pagan with a mandate to save the faithful. And while I accept that with an obedient heart… My mind wonders. Wonders if this is not… maybe… Circumstance? Magic has scarred the world many a time. And in most of them, it did not involve the Maker, or our Lady.”

Cullen took a deep triumphal breath and crossed his arms. There was a reason he admired this woman so much, and it showed now. He wondered why the Inquisition needed a different leader, when it was clear who Andraste had actually sent to lead them. Adrius eyes widened, and he finally leaned against the wall. Damn thing wouldn’t move! “So I think there is a way to know if Andraste sent you.”

“Elgar’nan, I’m so screwed.”

“There is no way in which you would survive combat with Cullen. If you are the Herald of Andraste - somehow you will. If you are not…”

“Then I die?!”

“I will break the combat before that. The rules will be…”

Adrius squealed as Cassandra was shoved aside and Cullen smashed the lithe elf against the wall with a steel pauldron blow to a soft, exposed sternum. What little air was left on his lungs was expelled when Cullen rammed him flat on his back on top of the war table, and all those little pieces certainly punctured him in a few places. Cassandra tried to yell to Cullen that it was not fair, that Adrius was wearing just pants, a shirt and a fur cloak, while Cullen was in full armor. All the former Templar did to appease the objections of the other human was to unbuckle his sword belt before calmly putting a knee on each side of a stunned Adrius and starting laying punch after punch on the elf’s face. It didn’t take many hits of the steeled massive hands to burst the skin open. The blood splattered over the Fereldan map as if marking another Dalish hero’s path.

But the map crumbled when Adrius slid under Cullen’s leg leaving only his cloak to received the last few blows. While the elf got back to his trembling feet, and without being sure of he was actually doing, he slammed his palms on Cullen’s ears, flat and open, one on each side, at the same time. Classic anti-shem blow, you can’t do that to elves! Adrius slipped and fell of the table, and Cullen did the same, thrown off-balance with ringing ears which made the room swirl.

Adrius was quick on his feet first, and sprung to kick Cullen square in the gut. But he hit chainmail instead, and saw himself spin on his own axis, propelled by the twist Cullen gave on his aching foot. Cullen was still disoriented, which didn’t prevent him from trying and climbing over Adrius. The elf did not forgive: blow after blow landed on the Commander’s face, eachs stronger than the previous, but to no avail. Other than making Cullen’s nose and lips bleed, the towering human kept advancing, slithering over Adrius body, and weathering the punches with gritted teeth and a devious smile. Mythal’enaste, Cullen was actually enjoying it. The fucking bastard was actually enjoying it! Even though right now, with the anger, Adrius was putting everything he had in his punches, swinging with all his strength, and Cullen’s chin wouldn’t break. The Commander was clearly stunned, and could barely keep himself straight, but he didn’t even try to block Adrius’ blows. The elf decided is was time to try and overturn things, when the finally felt Cullen’s hand on his long ears.

And then he felt the blood spreading under his scalp, soaking his thin hair, and a high pitched noise muffle something Leliana was saying, blocked by Cassandra, who did not allow the Left Hand to interfere. He felt the grip on his ears again, and once more the sharp thud made everything spin silently.

Adrius was trying understand the blurred waves in front of him, and make sense of where he was, and the names of the colors. That man, Frey, he had met once. He was the Hero of Ferelden. How did he do so people wouldn’t say he was the Hero of Andraste? Andraste must have been a bad woman. Why sticking her nose where she didn’t belong? Maybe if Adrius had told people he was a Grey Warden? Then we would be able to… To wield the sword of mercy. Cassandra would be shoved to one side, Leliana to the other, and…

Adrius let out a shout of rage and rolled to the side before Cullen’s sword could pierce his neck. And with a roar he stretched his left hand, grabbed Cullen’s face, and felt his soul run like uphill water to the small breach in his palm. The mark flared and crackled, and Cullen cried in agony, bending backwards, arching as a bug on fire, as Adrius got to his knees, and then up, and then bent over Cullen, pressing the human’s face against the rock floor.

On his peripheral vision, Cassandra moved. Adrius turned to her, his hand shooting green bolts randomly across the room, and with the right hand, he grabbed the sword Cullen had dropped. “Wait!” Adrius shouted, the anger still rumbling on the back of his throat. Cassandra stopped, and unsheathed her own sword. Her narrowed dark eyes scrutinized the elf deeply, and they softened when she saw a smile on Adrius thin lips. At his feet, Cullen was still arching his back in pain, gritting his teeth as he tried to recompose himself. And behind Adrius, Leliana stopped when he touched the tip of the sword in Cullen’s head. Blood dripped from his nose, his brow, and the wound behind his head. It competed with the fading green that shone from Adriu’s left hand.

“Don’t you try --” Leliana started. But she stopped talking when Adrius tipped his head a bit to the side. And spoke louder.

“Shsshhh! Let me speak!

Cassandra and Leliana were ready to try and do something. Cullen was back in control of himself, and surprisingly, not a single mark dotted his face other than the blows of Adrius’ fists had left there. The Commander tried to move, but found the tip of his own sword pressed against his neck.”

“The gods have spoken!” Adrius started, looking around to the other humans. “I have bested you in combat, Curly of Honnleath”.

“You used magic!” Cullen growled, at which Cassandra was quick: “And you had armor, and you reached for your sword, Commander”.

Adrius pointed the index finger of his now calm left hand at Cassandra, and smiled. Elgar’nan, he was in pain. His head throbbed, and he could feel his left cheekbone swell to the point he could almost not see through that eye. But he was almost done. At least all his teeth were still in place, and he was able to talk.

Adrius touched Cullen’s right shoulder with the sword. And then the left one. It looked like the human raised a questioning brow. The sword then touched Cullen’s forehead. “I know pronounce you, knight of the elf. You may kiss the bride!”

Leliana chuckled instantly and broke into heartly laughter. Cassandra suppressed hers, and Cullen stood wide-eyed on the floor, as much as he could with the beating his face had taken, and watched aghast as Adrius limped away from the war room. His adam’s apple moved up and down intensely, working as hard as it could to swallow the broken pride.

Cassandra touched Adrius’ shoulder as he passed by her “Go see Minaeve. She that she can find you some healing.”

“I do need some healing. The Commander gave me a hell of a beating. Maybe we could go see her together, Cullen?”

The man still stood flabbergasted for some seconds, but finally got up, rejecting the help Leliana offered. “Maker’s breath. Let’s go, my lord.”

Adrius shook his head at that, and removed a war table piece that stuck on his side.

[acaranna]

And day five. Again for my dear @crashed-down-in-a-hurricane. This time it’s her lovely Adrius Lavellan who gets a kiss from Alec. I’m not so sure about this one since I haven’t had much time to play with him. At least not as much as I had with Frey. But I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading. 

Day One   Day Two   Day Three   Day Four

Steam rolled out of the door as soon as Alec opened it. He watched with a raised eyebrow as the white fog waved across the floor only to scatter away when the air grew too cold. It seemed like someone had the same idea he had after spending the day cooped up in the meeting room. If he had to listen to one more noble whine about how the soldiers needed provisions and equipment he would take his axe to their head.

Leiliana would probably help him hide the body and Cullen? Well, his lover would certainly be rather put out but relieved as well. Only Josie would be a bit more rattled. She did like to dance around them with her words. It was also the reason why it had been calm and quiet so far. 

“Are you going to come in and close the door or are you going to continue letting the warm air out?” The voice came from inside the room. Alec turned his head back to gaze inside. It was dimly lit with only a few candles. Still, it was enough light that he could make out the wooden tub and a head laying against the edge. The sound of splashing water echoed quietly from the high walls. It felt almost serene.

Alec shook his head with a smile and stepped into the room. He closed the door behind himself.

“Thank you,” the voice sighed. It sounded familiar but Alec couldn’t quite put his finger down on who it was. Which wasn’t all that surprising, given how many of his old friends and companions had appeared in Skyhold after he’d send out word that Thedas was in danger. Again.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here at this hour,” Alec admitted with a shrug. He put the bundle of clothes, he’d been carrying, onto the vanity table that stood next to the door. “I thought that most people had gone to bed already. It is rather late after all.”

“Which is why I’ve come here, too,” the other man answered with a huff. “Although it seems that a quiet bath isn’t in the cards anymore.” 

“Adrius,” Alec shook his head. He should have known. The young elf was prone to playing little pranks when he was in a good mood and hiding away from hours when he felt down. It had happened quite a few times when they’d travelled together. 

“Figured it out then,” Adrius turned towards him. He put his arms onto the edge of the tub and cushioned his chin on them. The dim light of the candles illuminated the slender face. The tired face. Alec sighed and shook his head. 

“Well, can you blame me?” he asked softly. “So many of my old friends stumbled in that it’s hard to keep track of who sneaks off to where.” Adrius laughed as well and tilted his head sideways.

“I guess that’s true,” he agreed with a sigh. Alec frowned. His legs moved before his head gave the order to do it and moments later he stood next to the tub. Adrius looked up at him and his eyes betrayed the tiredness. 

Alec shook his head with a soft smile before he crouched down. He took the small cup that sat next to the tub and motioned for Adrius to sit up.

“Come on,” he grinned when his friend’s ears flattened slightly in suspicion. “I only want to help you get done before you fall asleep in here and drown. That wouldn’t go over well with the maids and least of all with Josie.” His words had the desired effect and Adrius lips slipped into a smile.

“Alright then,” he agreed. “But only because of Josie.”

“Of course,” Alec nodded, before leaning forward to fill the cup with water. In the same movement he pressed a gentle kiss to Adrius temple.

[cdhurricane]

Inktober 2019 Day 24 DIZZY

Adrius Lavellan

[cdhurricane]

Elfebruary 2019 Day 4 - Dance

[cdhurricane]

Elefebruary 2019 Day 6 - Disguise

Cassandra / Sera / Adrius Lavellan