#fadedforthem

[outlivings]

♡ eyezorms

pre-established relationships! | @fadedforthem​

bold = what i want for their relationshipitalic = what i could see strike out = what i don’t

FRIENDS.   childhood friends  /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic  /  turning into something romantic  /  stable  /  falling apart  /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  /  pen - pals or internet friends  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other .

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts  /  newly entered  /  soulmates  /  skinny love  /  unrequited from my muses side  /  unrequited from your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  /  fading  /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND. sibling bond  /  older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  child figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .

ENEMIES. dangerous to themselves  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  passionate  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into a sexual tension  /  developing into a romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based off circumstance  /  based off professional matters  /  based off misunderstandings or lies  /  other (UHHHH THREATENING TO KILL THE WORLD MAYBE???????) .

[theeternalsun]

   “Please leave us.” the priestess stands beneath the door’s arch, hands closely held on the curve of her back. The cold metal against the bare scarred back of her hands. There were still signs of the times where her bones had been so close to her skin that she almost believed she would not be able to bleed from them, now... Now she could almost see a resemblance to her prime years. Accepting that things will never be fully like they had been was a hard pill to swallow. She stands tall, black eyes moving as the two welps get out of the room after looking over to their pack leader to make sure that they should follow her orders. She bore no love for them, their presence there akin to that of a cancerous mass in a living being, but that did not mean that they were completely lost. Perhaps if they were shown the right path they’d willingly walk it.

Only when they are finally alone does she take a few steps forward, a piece of paper taken from her robes’ pockets and thrown over the maps on the table towards him. It was the page of a book, clearly torn from it and far too old to have been removed now without crumbling to pieces. It had been hers, truth be told, it was a small map of one of the sections of Arlathan with various points pointed out. Potential spots where the traitors had been operating and where they had hidden tomes that they taken from the temples. It had been drawn before the Invasion and Siege and eventually forgotten. Until that point. Black eyes don’t leave him “Are those right?”

@fadedforthem

[fuckthedivine-blog1]

@fadedforthem

           “I’m sorry, Solas, did you ---” a faint, sharp inhale, “--- need something?”  Despite best intentions, it’s apparent that the woman is distressed; voice catches and eyes dart.  “I was --- distracted.  I didn’t hear you approach.”

[theeternalsun]

do solas AND walter do both of my trash mages

talk about us ( accepting ) | @charyka / @fadedforthem

For Solas

What they define their relationship with your muse as: I feel that the only thing that is keeping these two from tearing each other apart through their throats and fists is really the fact that neither of them is at their full strength and that they see usefulness in each other’s resources. Their end goals are not quite the same beyond the ‘tear down the veil’ and that makes for a very thin line between ally and ‘let me slash your throat’. Until now they can be polite to each other, they just tend to throw a lot of jabs around.

Something they like about your muse: His face, I think that’s literally about it. She refuses to even acknowledge anything beyond that, he is not even a person, not a god, he’s basically a very good looking trash bag of an elf.

Something they dislike about your muse: Destroying the world was a pretty shitty thing to do in her opinion.

Their first impression of your muse: She didn’t know that he was Fen’harel ( because I think that even if they had met in battle before the world went up in flames that they’d both use armour/helmets that would protect their faces ). Even the faces of the Gods were probably not common knowledge. So she just found it very odd that someone that has a bare face would know so much about elvhen culture and would have such opinions about blood magic as he does. He still finds his ‘know-it-all’ attitude insufferable. 

Their impression of your muse now: Allies until it can’t hold anymore, she respects his intelligence though she is growing more and more to want to punch him in the face while fully knowing that he will not care. She doesn’t use Solas the same way that he never really called him that during Inquisiton ( if she was recruited ) though she no longer call his ‘apostate’ and calls him Fen’harel instead.

How they feel about your muse: If there is a bigger word for unending hatred and resentment while also being keenly aware that he is one of the last of the People, that’s the word. Think an anger that has been brewing for the past 6000 years and finally being faced with the person that is the source of it. 

Something they are hiding from your muse: I guess what would be more common would be her past before she became one of the Faithful. To make sure that he only sees her a mindless pawn, mainly because it is easier to deal with pure hatred with shades of grey. Though, when he meets Manala and understands what it means that the priestess named anyone, the priestess first is scared and then might get ideas on how to use this to her advantage.

Something they wish they could to tell your muse: Drop off the edge of the earth please, leave her and her People alone, if Fen’harel even look at my people the wrong way I will put a muzzle on him.

For Walter

What they define their relationship with your muse as: Non existent, she doesn’t like being in his presence, she doesn’t like talking to him and she certainly doesn’t like knowing that he is breathing the same air as she does. Anyone from Tevinter makes her feel on edge, add that with being a smart ass and someone that has zero respect for other’s comfort ( though she does the exact same thing to other people so she shouldn’t really speak about these things ).

Something they like about your muse: As of right now there’s nothing that she really likes, she likes it when he stays away with his eyes away from her.

Something they dislike about your muse: Pretty much him breathing, she can’t stand being in his presence and that whole sleek attitude that he has, makes her feel that he is constantly either trying to get on her good graces or to manipulate her ( or worse, to purely annoy her ). 

Their first impression of your muse: Tevinter scum.

Their impression of your muse now: Tevinter scum that talks far too much why did the inquisitor think this was a good idea? Creators, why.

How they feel about your muse: Urgh, urgh, urgh, yikes. He makes her skin crawl and not in a good way.

Something they are hiding from your muse: Anything and everything but it’s not something conscious, it just comes from her wish to not even associate with him.

Something they wish they could to tell your muse: She would not tell him anything.

[mercysought]

I just saw that trailer and all I'm saying is that I AM BUZZING

[mercysought]

🤝 + out of necessity.

fifty reasons to touch someone ( ACCEPTING ) @fadedforthem // out of necessity.

To return to the Imperium was a task far greater than she had first anticipated. In reality, she had never expected herself to return there, much less via a Eluvian. While she knew that his steps were light, as if returning to his home after a very long time away, the priestess’ mind burned brightly and with each step the nails in her mind dug deeper into her flesh, scars burnt brighter, her lungs slowly receding as further away as possible from her ribs. With each step she feels as as the stones beneath her feet seem to melt into her armoured boots, preventing her from moving as fast as they would have allowed her before… before all of this, before he laid chaos into the very fabric of their existence. The General presses forward, chin raised as black eyes focus on the path ahead; the destruction caused by the final days of their Nation is nothing but blurred colours in a mind that slowly shifts to crimson as the soft silence of the fade turns to low humming screams at the base of her neck. 

She doesn’t question if he hears them. The glances in his direction give her a stark reminder that even if he heard them that he would not have cared: the sound of crunching bones beneath his heel was no unfamiliar sound to the likes of him. When your teeth taste nothing but the desperation and the flesh of your own people for years, when your home is paved with their bones, what is a symphony of the memory of their last breaths?

They cross another eluvian and immediately she can smell it. Hidden hideous scars beneath her golden bands at the neck and wrists burn intensely. Her hands are over the golden bands, fidgeting and almost expecting that such an action would illicit the sound of chains: they did not echo the same way but she can hear them almost too clearly. Her mouth is half open and the images around them blur further, throat dry as she falls behind momentarily. She had told them, told them that remaining and waiting for whatever forces of a prophet was a bad idea. Black eyes move to the child that looks up at her with a million questions on his mind but only one emotion: fear. Tiny hands hold her arm and he asks: ‘what’s wrong, mother?’. 

The face disappears, like many of the children that had been with them then. It disappears but it is not forgotten. That child’s face was one of the last things she had ever seen; The first one to give her hope after the chains were released from her body and the last one before she raised weapons knowing that she would die there, so far away from home. Arms bound again, legs forced into kneeling and a crowd cheering, a flash of a blade. 

A warm hand holding her arm firmly pulls her back into reality. The hand that had nearly been puling at the flesh hidden beneath the golden bands comes to a stop nearly instantly. Black eyes blink upwards to find his and while there is not worry lingering behind them, there is something worse, something far harder to kill: curiosity. 

   “I’m fine.”  her mouth closes and she resets the golden bands, slowly moving out of his hold. Her voice is dry and tired as she continues walking on. Scarred fingers pulling the dark and worn hood over shaved head and into the streets.

[ofrevas-a]

we end, to begin again.

poetry

The existence, if not the nature, of the trap had been clear long before anyone set foot in the castle, and still they’d decided (decided! what right had they to assess the risk to another life and find it acceptable?) that his far superior talents were necessary in facing Alexius.

“It was senseless!”

Alanari had decided, damned him…him, Solas who wasn’t, to corruption (and whatever else had been done to him in that year, horrors they couldn’t bear to imagine). He should rage at their arrogance, should question them.

He does not, and it is left to Alanari to do so. 

[ofrevas-a]

"All these things happened. Allegedly. When you paint an evil thing, do you invoke it or take away its power?"

Richard Siken, "Four Proofs"