#aislintrevelyan

[ostwickjoker]

Dom’s head felt leaden and he wanted nothing more than to lie down; it was with great relief that he saw Haven emerging from between the mountain peaks where it was nestled. There was no actual time to rest, of course. He’d sent a bird ahead to inform his advisors that the templars were coming, but he would have to give them a full report on the situation at Therinfal and somehow explain what had happened inside his head, not to mention begin the overwhelming amount of work needed to prepare for the new arrivals.

Some of that, at least, seemed to be already in progress, judging by the amount of people rushing around as he rode with his entourage through the village’s entrance. Good. His advisors were efficient people, almost frighteningly so. Presumably most of the camp knew the general situation by now and was starting to prepare for the influx of new people.

Maker, please just help them all to keep calm. The poor blighters back at Therinfal -- those who hadn’t been corrupted, at least -- had suffered enough, and he was well aware that tensions could be very high trying to bring them among many other people who had also suffered. It’s going to be a long few weeks.

He caught a familiar face out of the crowd, smiled vaguely as he drew near his sister, pulling his horse to a halt. “Hullo, Ais,” he said tiredly, sliding from the saddle to land with a thump in the mud.

@aislintrevelyan

[ostwickjoker]

Ooooh! (*＾▽＾) Yes, please! For both Ostwick Aislin and Kirkwall Aislin, if you're willing?

Send (*＾▽＾)／ for the mun to give your muse advice/gossip about their relationship with my muse

Ostwick Aislin:

That little bit of reassurance you gave Dom, that you have faith in him, means more to him than you probably suspect. You’re catching him at an uncertain time where he’s still trying to figure himself out. He kind of just wants to give you big hugs now so watch out for that. ;)

Kirkwall Aislin:

Different advice but the same reason...go easy on the poor lad. ;) He’s at a point where he’s in dire need of encouragement and people to care about; he’s not likely to think you’re ‘too much to handle’ like you’re evidently worried about. He doesn’t get shaken off easy. :P But he will appreciate a little warmth.

[ostwickjoker]

Family Business

Dom let out a long, heavy sigh and tugged at the fingers of his gloves, pulling them off and absently noting the stickiness of blood on the leather. Unusually enough (given his line of work lately) it was mostly ram’s blood; they’d had good luck hunting in the Hinterlands and had managed to provide some meat and furs that would help keep the refugee camps at the Crossroads from being overwhelmed.

All in all, a good day’s work, and that wasn’t even counting the life-altering revelation that his sister was alive and safe. Not only that, but she was here in Haven; according to the quartermaster at the Hinterlands camp, she’d gone on with one of the supply carts and was already set up near the main Inquisition healers. And so that, therefore, was where he beelined immediately.

“Ais?” he called softly, ducking his tall frame so he could peer inside one of the tents. “You around?”

@aislintrevelyan

[inquisitor-mage-trevelyan]

Hello again // Aislin and Saga

aislintrevelyan

   Redcliffe wasn’t exactly big, and now with the war, it wasn’t exactly populous either. It was important, none the less, as a  haven for rebel mages. Mages the so called “Herald” had been meaning to join the group prior to the conclave, but as fate would have it, that was not to happen. 

   Adding them to the fledgling inquisitions power base seemed a fine compromise between fate and the revolutionary firebrand burning in the heard of the Trevelyan. No mater how much the commander grumbled about it. 

     She looked over to her companions, then forward, as she stepped through the towns gates. The sky was a dark, and heavy grey, and looked as if it might open up at any second, it fit her mood just fine. She couldn’t help but have a sinking feeling in her gut the moment she walked into town. That was, until she gave the crowd in and around the market stalls a good look through.

    A familiar face, but it couldn’t be her, she must have died back in Ostwick. Why would she even be here? Questions of a similar line went whizzing through the Heralds head and she pushed her way through the crowd. “Aislin Trevelyan!” she spoke in a somewhat commanding voice, meaning to be heard over the market murmur. “Aislin!”