#iserahopes

[uvher]

@iserahopes liked for a starter

The problem with Arlathan Forest, Lucanis decided, was all of the trees. Trees were a problem if you were trying to get around quietly and Lucanis— used to stalking around a city— found the leaf-and-twig laden ground a frustratingly noisy challenge.

The Dalish had clearly figured out how to succeed where he was failing. Maybe it was the lack of shoes, but they were all nearly silent on the forest floor (or sometimes, if he chanced to look up, in the boughs of the trees).

[Want. To try. Climbing] "No, Spite," he muttered under his breath. Their Veil Jumper contact couldn't get there fast enough for him.

[inenaste]

"I do not know if I am worthy." x @iserahopes

"few are born worthy, da'len," the ancient elf gave a thoughtful hum, nodding his head. "one could even say that none are born worthy. you will have to face trials and tribulations before you find your worth."

violet gaze settled on her, and his expression softened into a smile. "we all have had them. fen'harel had them, i've had them, every other elf before you has had them. you will be worthy when you pass them."

[fadewalking]

[A pretty tray full of carefully embellished blueberry cupcakes awaits for Solas on his usual desk, with a small note penned in protestant handwriting.] "Thank you, hahren, for all you do for us." ((From @iserahopes - and happy birthday too, mun!))

It's Solas' Name Day (kinda) // @iserahopes

Solas first picked up the note and smiled at it. He had not wanted any sort of celebration or unique attention on the day he was badgered to pick. But the gesture was thoughtful anyway, and he did appreciate the attention to his inconspicuous sweet tooth. He picked up the center cake carefully between two fingers, and observed its decorated make. He looked around first to ensure no eyes spied him... and he ate. The entire tray.

[cygnus-van-markham-blog]

A Little Cold

Starter for @iserahopes

Ｆｒｅｅｚｉｎｇ． Fingers were still cold.  Shivers were present since the other day.  It would have been more prominent if she wasn’t so ｒｅｓｏｕｒｃｅｆｕｌ and ended up making some warmer clothes with the fabric leftover from some of the spare supplies.  

‹ Ｗｅｅｋ　ｔｈｒｅｅ．．．›  

She made a ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌ note in in her journal.  It had been three weeks to the day that she had been in Ｓｋｙｈｏｌｄ and there still proved to be no sign of the rumored Archdemon.  Awaiting further instruction, she thought to deliver some other garments she’d made for the people still ｒｅｃｏｖｅｒｉｎｇ from being in the cold, over to the healers.

Approaching the healer’s tent there were new faces and old faces.  All of them had the same look.  Ｆｅａｒ.  Peering inside, she saw a small figure.  A child?  Without giving it a second thought, she invited herself into the tent after noticing the medic’s ａｂｓｅｎｃｅ and placed the coat on the small elf. 

❝Has the healer ｎｏｔ arrived yet?❞   

[remainatyourside]

@iserahopes

Skyhold can all get to be a little too much sometimes. On a particularly busy day, Fenris likes to retreat, find somewhere quiet to sit on his own. His usual spot had been taken by a cat in labor, and so ousted, sought a new spot. Now he sits out on the battlements in a little nook in the wall, unaware that this is the usual sitting-and-thinking spot of a certain barefoot elf.

[afroditeohki]

This is my Isera, in an Elvhenan AU.

She should be fancier, specially being a servant of June (... and I JUST noticed I forgot her vallaslin dammit), but I failed hard at the frills and filigree. |:

[xfenharel]

a woman in the city of crafts

His robes flutter with the winds gusting through June’s city, and he brings the hood of his cloak closer to his face, shielding his cold, red cheeks. Pieces of the city float and move, like a labyrinth that can’t stay put, but Solas navigates it swiftly, down one alley, around a corner, up and down and left, left, through a busy street--and the moons in the sky are dim, tonight, only able to illuminate the white gleam in his gray eyes.

He passes a row of shops, most of them dark, and then there is a loud crash, and he jerks his body backward, a small explosion of fire finally lighting the rest of his face.

In a breath, a single heartbeat, he is inside the shop.

“Is anyone hurt?” he calls, as he looks around.

@iserahopes

[inenaste]

"That doesn't look like a scratch." from @iserahopes for Felassan

"That's why we knock, da'len," it was a gentle chide as the mage wrapped the gash across his torso. It was ugly, and resisted the sparse healing he'd attempted on it. So a potion had been spread over split flesh, and gauze was being wrapped around it when she had entered.

"Did you need something?" He continued his task with some awkwardness as he wrapped his torso.