#bledroots

[necrmancer-blog]

@bledroots

     There is a certain tranquility that comes with joining the Inquisition, Dorian finds -- here he can be himself without fearing that his father might be hiding in the shadows. judging his every single move. And the actions of the Inquisition have perfectly aligned with his beliefs thus far; needless to say, Dorian Pavus would much rather be here than at home. 

     While the lack of an overprotective father to hide in the shadows is a true issue, that spot has not been left open for too long. Perhaps he thought the Tevinter wouldn’t notice, this Chosen of Andraste, but the heir of house Pavus was quick to pick on his little spy. For a while, it had been fun to simply sit back and observe, see how long he was watched until the other gave it up or simply got bored. Today, however, Dorian felt like taking the initiative. 

     The Herald is quick to notice the absence of a certain handsome man from his usual spot, and with composure that looks almost too forced he tries to look out for Dorian, unknowingly that he was standing just there, behind him, mere meters away. ❝ In case you’re looking for the ever so charming Dorian Pavus, you might have to look elsewhere. With all the staring at me you do every day, I started thinking you might have taken a liking on me. ❞

[truempathy]

walking down the hall, out of the maximum security area, will breathes out for the first time, feeling like he’s able to. like he can breathe. no. like his breath belongs to him again, in all the ways it hadn’t when he’d been in the same room as hannibal. it’s every bit as disconcerting as it should be, but will’s mind is already parsing through the new information he’d gotten through his visit. visiting the bshci hadn’t been something he’d ever wanted to do, not after his lengthy stay as one of its very own inmates. back when he’d first found out who --- what -- hannibal really was, when he’d tried to have the man killed in a show of will’s own agency. will pauses, steps ceasing, and his hand is still on the railing as he stares down at the next step. curiosity leads his feet not to the entrance of the hospital, not to alana’s office, but to the lower cells. away from hannibal and his own personal slice of maximum security, lavish and decorated and every inch him, towards cells with criminals no less under guard but no more dangerous. a few gates, another pat down and the customary warning, and will steps down the long hallway of open, metal barred cells, towards ----      

 ❛  so you are still here.  ❜    he says, in lieu of a greeting, coat still hanging from his arm, and will looks at matthew. he’s not sure why he’s surprised. he knew matthew had survived, had been locked away in the very place he’d formerly done the locking away in. will had just, naturally, assumed, matthew hadn’t survived for long. not with hannibal out there. hannibal and his many, many eyes, his many fingers in many brains.

♞ ( STARTER CALL : @BLEDROOTS. )

[diealive-blog1]

@bledroots

annie lenox spins around in the record player, sweet dreams fills the air and she’s in vincent’s lap. it feels right, her knees on either side of his thighs. her mouth is pressed against his, her hands on his cheeks. biting gently at his lower lip, she releases him and pulls away. myrtle offers up a quiet smile.

❝ it’s been a good day, then? ❞

[dalishflame]

Starter Call! || Accepting

“ My good man, there you are! ” As always, Atreion was hardly subtle in announcing himself, sweeping an arm wide to halt the tattooed elf as he tried to scuttle past. He did a lot of scuttling, trying exceedingly hard to keep from being noticed, or really seen at all. It was, he knew, a habit wisely formed on the streets, and his cajoling was doing little to help break him of that, but it didn’t mean Atreion wouldn’t try. When he could bloody well catch him, that is.

“ You’re a hard man to find, you know. The mages tell me you haven’t been showing up to the library. ”

            @bledroots

[ofboomerangs-blog]

@bledroots replied to your post “ooc. I am like not happy jan, okay. I am one of those weirdos who...”

if people delete their blogs or if the post is deleted that you liked, the number will still stick to the like page even if it's literally not there anymore.

no way, that is like the worst thing...I’m going to cry. so it’s just legit stuck like that?

[dalishflame]

@bledroots continued from here

“Well, I was about to say I hope you gave as good as you got, but if it was a tree… ” For all his fussing, Atreion was clearly trying not to laugh, pressing a hand to his mouth even as he peered down at the arm in his grasp. They certainly looked bad: his limbs mottled with purple and yellow with some grazes mixed in for good measure, but there were children in his clan who’d come off worse for far sillier reasons. Quite a relief, considering Taylor’s habit of getting into things he shouldn’t.

“ Either way you should get some poultices on those, else you won’t have fun sleeping tonight. ” He let Taylor’s arm go, gaze lifting to the marks now lying dormant on their wielder’s skin. “ But I have to ask: how in Thedas can symbols make one fly? Aren’t they just… ink? ”

[purestsouls-moved]

@bledroots scott | rae who needs cuddles

coal black hair fell forwards softly with the animorphs SIGH. eyes pressed tightly shut she leaned down into their couch, fingers searching for his in the hope of COMFORT. her eyes opened slowly as she reached over to almost fall over onto his lap. “―i had the shittiest day.. how was yours ? ”

[ulfhrafnxa]

@bledroots

Gaze locks onto the dim glow of a fire in the distance, the sounds of laughter and the scent of burning embers drawing her closer. Urging her to shed away her human confines and feast, in the manner her ancestors had intended, on those too weak to challenge her.  To pose any real threat to a beast made to stalk and claim all it’s feral heart desired. And who could deny her hunger when prey wandered so willingly into her domain. Dulling their senses with drink and debauchery, unaware of the danger lurking in the trees.

   So she advances, nothing more than a ghost cloaked in darkness, sheds away what restraint still lingered in her heart and mind, her bones snapping and cracking, limbs lengthening to a seemingly unbearable size, bringing her to her knees as flesh fell away, large paws sinking into the dirt where bare feet once stood. 

 She reveled in the pain, how alive she felt, and the adrenaline and freedom only instinct and the moonlight’s guidance could provide. There was nothing quite like the thrill of a hunt on a cloudless night.