#bestowment

[snarkomancy]

pet name <3

“Lucky Charm”  (Modern Verse)

[coalheart-blog1]

✖ @bestowment ✖

For a year now he’s been working alone and he had to say, he was a lot happier for it. Well... maybe ‘happy’ isn’t necessarily the right word when it comes to spending your days as a slave to your employers, not being allowed to refuse a job or otherwise they will rat you out to the people you’re hiding from. But he didn’t have to feel the constant pressure of being around Jas, having to endure her words and the... temptation.

As far as he heard, she got a new cleaner but he didn’t care to know more of the details. As the months passed, he thought about their arguments less and less. Maybe he was over the whole, free of her even in his thoughts.

But one day there was the familiar knock on his door, another job no doubt, but as the car stopped at its destination, his heart sank; It was the building with Jas’ apartment. So maybe the new cleaner didn’t work out in the end... great. Or maybe... maybe, they had enough of Jas and they wanted to get rid of her... but then why wouldn’t they just use the new cleaner? No doubt he would find out soon enough.

The guards unlocked the door and let him in, slowly stepping inside and looking around. Not much has changed in terms of furniture, the place was still that stomach-twistingly rich as he remembered. For now Jas hasn’t showed herself, but he still elected to act like he’s at home, first journey leading him to the liquor cabinet. No cheap drinks this time... well then the expensive whiskey will have to do. He took a sip as he sat down, waiting for his old work partner and instructions. Maybe she has changed... maybe things will be different. He felt like he could definitely rise above being petty... if she could. The idea of being around her didn’t even bother him now. Not that he was fond of the idea of being here, but maybe he could handle it in a civil manner.

[lucernimaevaris]

☣ : Character my muse respects greatly.

[Symbol Meme]

“Respect…I have had little to look up to, unfortunately. My father, for always having a good heart, despite circumstances. Dorian, I respect highly as my friend, and for his wit and talents, certainly.”

[ostwickjoker]

♙ : Character my muse hates

[[This is not really an easy question cos the truth is it’s really hard to fully piss Dom off. There might be people he doesn’t so much like hanging out with, but he is really easygoing until he’s forced not to be.

But for an idea off the top of my head…Lord Seeker Lucius – a man whose betrayal of the trust of the templar order destroyed many people Dom respected – not to mention betrayed Cassandra’s trust as well, and was responsible for the envy demon’s presence at Therinfal, one of the most unnerving and terrifying experiences of Dom’s life.]]

[coalheart-blog1]

╳ @bestowment ╳

At first it was simply slaps, but that wasn’t enough, the guards laughing, saying this is not what the boss needs, not just red cheeks... they need a face swollen from punches, plenty of cuts and bruises. And so Lambert followed the instructions to a T. Yes, Jas could annoy him a lot, just the way she could be generally, but this was something that he still didn’t wish for her.

It was for blackmailing, they said, and that was more than what they usually gave him. He didn’t need to know their reasons, he just needed to execute their wishes and that’s what he’s been doing, one punch after the other, ignoring how bad it already looked, ignoring her cries of pain, ignoring the laughter of the guards.

“ I think she’s decorated enough... “

He tries to sound nonchalant about it and they finally agree, pulling a phone out, taking their photos and then they were gone, door closing behind them.

“ I’m sorry... “

Lambert mutters when it’s finally just them in the room.

[snarkomancy]

Invasive Treatment

@bestowment

“Transient, reversible factors are corrected initially and less invasive treatments are attempted before more invasive methods.” (Lewis’s Medical-Surgical Nursing, p.1111)

“Philippa. No. By all that is sacred, do not do this!” Marti Sodergren stands in front of the door to the infirmary, arms crossed over her chest, her jaw set, eyes twinkling with outrage. Hell hath no fury like a healer when someone is about to interfere with a patient, and Marti is no exception. “And do what instead? Stand by and watch her go insane while you waste time with your soft methods? My way is the only way you know that as well as I do.” Philippa is riled herself. She knows what she is about to do is risky, the chance of survival without suffering permanent damage is low, but it is not impossible. There is no time to lose and here is Marti, being difficult.

“She won’t survive what you suggest. What do you think she is? Your fucking experiment? Transient, reversible factors are corrected initially and less invasive treatments are attempted before more invasive methods. It is in the fucking book, Phil!”

Marti is an outstanding healer, but her heart is soft. She doesn’t understand that sometimes drastic situations require drastic measures. Marti Sodergren is completely, entirely too ethical. Philippa makes a clicking noise with her tongue and shakes her head slowly, in a condescending manner. “Language, Miss Sodergren. Language. Do mind it, if you please.” She pauses, watches the other sorceress become exasperated, unsettled. Marti has always been a slave to her own emotions. Pushing her buttons is easy, too easy to be at all interesting, and yet she simply won’t learn her lesson: 

Opposing Philippa Eilhart is never a good idea.

“Don’t you give me that bullshit, Phil! I speak however I fucking like, especially when you walk in here as if you own the place and want to mess up my patient’s brain!”

“Her brain is already messed up, Marti. Do you not understand? Erana is damaged. Beyond repair, unless you let me do what needs to be done. You know what, I am done arguing with you. Get out of my way.”

“Over my dead body. Over my dead fucking body, do you hear me?!”

Philippa laughs, a quiet, raspy chuckle in the back of her throat. It is the most unsettling sound that Marti has heard in a long time. Worse than the rattling breath of a dying man. Worse than the keening wail of a mother who has just been told that her child is lost forever. Worse than the grind of the saw on bone. “That, my dear, can be arranged. Which method would you prefer? A lightning strike? Fire? Slow suffocation? Or maybe you would like a non-magical death? Poison? A knife between your ribs? An unfortunate accident involving a fall off a balcony?” 

The healer grows pale, averts her eyes. She would like to call Philippa’s bluff, but she knows in her bones that she is dead serious. Her pretty, girlish face darkens, and she knows that her fear is written plainly on her features. She has lost this battle, and with it likely Erana’s life. There is not a damn thing that she can do. 

“Do what you will, Philippa Eilhart. I can’t stop you. But be advised that the Council will hear about this highly unethical behaviour.” She turns on her heel down the long corridor without looking back, wrapping her cloak closely around her shoulders, as if it could protect her from Philippa’s wrath.

“I am glad that you could see reason, Marti,” Philippa says, regardless of the fact that the other sorceress can no longer hear her. To threaten me with the Council… What a farce. Who does she think controls the Council?

She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders before opening the infirmary door. Let’s get to work. 

­­­­­­­­­

Erana’s mother arrives just after sunset, dressed in black, her veil obscuring her face. Marti stands in the entrance hall, all alone. She shakes the woman’s hand. Such an impersonal gesture. “I am so sorry”, she says, eyes fixed on the marble floors in front of her, voice is barely above a whisper. “There is nothing I could do.”

[snarkomancy]

#1111 {drabble}

“An estimated 80% of incontinence can be cured or significantly improved.” TRUST YOU TO GET THAT PAGE LMAO!!!!!! (i might have to go with the next sentence lol)

[altus-dracona-blog]

@bestowment

Maker's sweaty balls he always seemed to forget the sweltering heat of the Approach. His boots sunk into the sand and his legs felt like the filling of one of those delicious pastries his cook made him as a child. With an unbecoming grunt the Tevinter scholar hefted his bag higher on his shoulder and finished the trek up the sandy hill, lifting his hand and wiping the sweat from his brow. Eyes as blue as the sky itself gazed out at the pillars of stone, ruins from some structure that had been here long ago. "Divine's cock, how many times do I have to dismantle these traps?" He cursed, sliding down the dune and heading for the enormous traps that were no doubt waiting to be sprung by dragon or dragonling.

He had no idea how long he was out there, jamming sticks between the teeth to trigger the spring and render the contraptions useless, but as he sprung one of the last one's he plopped onto a fallen pillar, opening his canteen and gulping mouthfuls of water. It wasn't wise but he was a thirsty, weary man. He closed his eyes for a moment, bowing his head and attempting to recover any energy possible for the return trip to camp, not expecting to see a single soul out in this wasteland.