#critrolememe;

[lightlorn]

"i don’t have very many things that i care about and i don’t have anything that cares about me." -solast for aria :3

burt reynolds attorney at small. ll accepting. ll @solasast

“Frilly cakes.”

Staring casually out the window, she might well have been speaking nonsense. It would hit true, she knew, adjusting so her legs were nearer to her chest. Turning her eyes on Solas, she buried her smirk against her arm. Silvery orbs twinkled as she caught his number in her grin, trapped like a web.

“The Inquisitor. That… You know, I can’t recall their name at all, but that one youth. Chess. Your books. You care for many things, hahren, and those that are capable of returning the sentiment clearly feel the same.”

Lilting her head, she let him catch the sight of her mouth, curling against every syllable.

“I care. I should hope you feel the same way for your favorite student, Solas. But perhaps not, with the way you lie straight to my face…”

[lightlorn]

"i think we’re very broken people. but i think together we’re much greater than the sum of our parts." [ FOR ARIA ]

burt reynolds attorney at small. ll accepting.

“Spoken like a true rebel.”

Like a Dalish, like a Mage, like anyone of worth in these turbulent days. More than anything, she thinks rebellion is a team effort, the radical idea of standing united against the many that dare to stand in the way of progress. He understands this, she thinks, as many cannot. Their aftershocks curve ever nearer to one another, scars inside and out bleeding into one another like family ties. He sees her, better than most, better than any other in this Keep, certainly.

“But you mustn’t forget, Loki – We are stronger together. We still stand strong on our own.”

Better to turn all that shattered glass outside rather than in. Better to show the Shemlen and their Chantry what their stones and words and prisons have created, and how it can be used against them. When last she fell into such discourse, she won herself a husband, started the war, black powder and flame–

“And these broken parts may sharpen us yet.”

[solissecunda-blog]

"i’ve been in a barrel for an hour. i fell asleep in there!"

im still crying over that ending tbqh. ll not accepting.

And sent the whole kingdom on an unmerry chase, she thinks. The words do not come, however, the queen instead gathering her young son into her arms. Studying the delicate boy in protracted silence, she finally runs her golden fingers carefully through his hair. No strands come loose at her near-spectral touch, and she is privately proud of herself for it.

“Lothric...”

Her hand comes to rest against his narrow cheek, gaze studying his face for any stress, but it is instead her nose that comies away with the scent of old wine. In an instant, she knows precisely where he has taken refuge, and struggles not to laugh at how it paints her boy a lush.

Gwynevere counts it a blessing that the latest stores were all emptied over the last month, well before the boy found them.

“Why would you do something so silly?”