#coryphcus

[valorcorrupt]

I need to save this

[orxna]

THREE FOR THREE ON DICTATORS GIVING HER DOGS, I AM HOWLING.

[cert4inty-a]

                        𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔪𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔯𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨.

the headcount was unfavorable, his men returning in bits and pieces of themselves. some were haggard, bloody but numb. others missed limbs in theory though they walked without stagger and answered his questions by way to suggest they, too, felt little. and the patrols who'd gone on ahead ? those who met the full force of an inquisition's tide ? he'd reached thirty and stopped counting.

if he had been there.. if samson had stood amongst their numbers—

@coryphcus speaks and the thought dies premature. it falls away with the rise of his head, chin intentionally high, albeit lacking defiance. a good little soldier, arguments fail to latch, excuses mulled, but untended. " i didn't account f'er the venatori tuckin' their tails. " running from the fight that painted these forgotten tombs with the bright and glittering remnants of lost lives. lyrium would sprout where it'd already found roots, deep in the bellies of recruits who had died with more purpose than the chantry would have allowed. for the greater good.. for the lesser of two evils.

" i sent scouts t' follow 'em back into the mountains, " back towards a keep that could only shield for so long. back towards the final pin on a map tucked away in the lining of his armor. skyhold wasn't unknown. the inquisitor didn't hide anymore than he did, here, in the sprawl of a field, salted and stormed. " 'm not finished yet. "

[valorcorrupt]

“All that effort… and yet somehow you still couldn’t win.” - @coryphcus

“You too, huh?”

The laugh she offers is hollow. She’s on her back, staring up at what is currently the sky and, in a few moment’s time may be the floor, or the wall, or a thousand miles away. 

She hates this place. 

And yet, somehow, death in it escapes her. It’s been– fuck, she doesn’t even know. But hunger doesn’t scrape at her ribs. Exhaustion does not pull at her eyelids, except for in the way that languishing boredom and resignation to an eternity here does. 

Her head turns towards the hulking has-been magister, the twisted and angry thing that joins her here in undeath. No matter how many times they leave each other’s company, somehow… they wind up face-to-face. 

She should have thrown Hawke at that fucking spider. Shoved his whole head in its mouth, planted her foot in his ass. How goddamn dare the Inquisitor leave her– to fix his mistakes! It was almost disappointing how easy it was to kill the fucking thing. Sometimes, she still gives the hulking corpse that does not decay another stab, when she’s particularly angry.

“Your whole fuckin’ thing is how you were so strong, you broke in here once. Why can’t you break out? Weak.”