#bloodwritten

[rp-kat]

Bloodwritten

[magicbound-a]

[slowly slides into your inbox] I’m here

My Muse is dying. Send me “I’m here” to hear their last words to yours.

  Red lyrium’s existence brought only tragedy. It twisted and took, spreading, spreading, spreading… until it consumed all that one was. When Orsino coughed, blood was mixed in with his spittle. The crystals fused to his bones and organs were stabbing into the vulnerable flesh, his skin bruising as vessels in the blood were cut. After his arms and legs became discolored, he could bear it no more, and hid himself away forever underneath layers of fabric. It was nauseating to look at, even worse to feel the crystals underneath when he rubbed his fingerpads together… or that could be just another symptom of his sickness. A fever fell upon him, his skin going pale and clammy. It never killed him, even when it felt as if it should have. As he died slowly, there was power to it. As terrible as he felt, exhaustion was not present. He ached as he walked, but something kept him moving. Living.

  Eyes looked at him with pity, but they still kept their distance. They feared the infection and Orsino didn’t blame them. He wouldn’t want to be near himself either, especially now that a few crystals began to poke out of the skin over his collarbone. The wounds didn’t bleed, but he wish they did. It would have made him feel more like a person and less like a monster. The spread of the material was a poorly concealed hint towards his rapidly approaching fate. The mage decided to head out with an Inquistion scouting patrol and await his fate.

  When he finally collapsed, the joints of his body no longer able to move, he wondered how much of him was still him and how much was red lyrium. It must have been in the blood vessels as his eyes, as an Inquisition scout who locked gazes with the green of his eyes as having a glow. Orsino didn’t look at anyone else. Not until familiar armor that reminded him of home walked up to them, a sort of hesitance to their steps.

  “Champion.” He greeted with a solemn smile. His words were light but still obvious that they were coming from a dying man. Orsino traded words with the woman he internally claimed to love but never confessed to. And even as he laid dying, he did not utter a word about it. He would take this secret to the grave. He didn’t want to ruin anything before he passed. Having Hawke beside him as he died was the greatest form of comfort he could have received. 

   He wished to hold her hand.    He didn’t want to kill her.

  Hawke wasn’t much as a talker, so he talked for the both of him. Even when his jaw began to lock up from the lyrium wedging itself into the hinges, he still managed to spit out one last question, desperate for peace of mind.

  “Did you ever forgive me?”

[freehawke-blog]

bloodwritten replied to your post:why r my reblogs being weird 

its probably still a problem with editable reblogs. something staff did messed up the coding for it. i heard updating editable reblogs is suppose to help but idk

that’s probably it tbh i did it and things seem to be ok ,, for no w      i  never think of updating anything until something goes noticeably wrong so 

[hellathanmoved-blog]

bloodwritten replied to your post “Read more doesn’t work anymore? D: I apologize for the long post. ”

try just editing and putting in a new readmore, that seems to fix it. i've been getting the same issue

Thank you, dear. :3 Worked like a charm.

[idolbound-a]

idolbound: (im busy sinning but u have fun)

bloodwritten: LEXIE Y U ALWAYS SINNING

fadecloaked: mmmmm ohhh my godddd

fadecloaked: stop fucking sinning!!!

idolbound: oh my god

bloodwritten: oh my god

twicebound: Meredith sinnard

[shedancess-archive-blog]

"#hawke's unobtainable hopes & dreams" wow, okay, first of all,

[slorsionnach-blog]

hi im spear and i really hate peanut butter

Hi Spear!!! That’s ok i really love peanut butter I will eat it all for you

[goldbladed]

dorian?

Send me the name of a DA (Canon) character and I’ll try to make up a Banter between them and my muse.

Dorian: You’re a Prospare!Chrysaor: Aye, I suppose I was. At one point.Dorian: You know, I met the Lady Prospare once. At a ball in Qarinus. It was– an experience.Chrysaor: She threw a man off the balcony for complaining about the roast duck. Yes, I heard, she told me.Dorian: Certainly wasn’t what I expected. I heard that she used to be all the rage at parties.Chrysaor: Only in a literal sense, unfortunately.