#keepslore

[valorcorrupt]

Look at her. She's beautiful

[b1uewraith-a]

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ @keepslore  to  fenris: The morning after their first night together, Dhavihal's demeanor is—stilted. Usually graceful and warm and confident, she finds her footing unsure around Fenris. The truth is that the last night had been impulsive—but not unpleasant. It still glows under her skin, next to the pulsing threat of the Anchor, and if she lets her mind wander, it falls back to the feeling of his hands on her skin, his lips, his— But it had been impulsive. The pain from the Anchor, a loneliness she hasn't been willing to admit to, a craving like a pit between her legs, and Fenris has been there. With a gaze that threatened to pierce her to her core, skin gleaming from sweat and the residual glow of his lyrium brands after the short skirmish with Venatori. Her sword, ready and willing to be wielded as she saw fit. But her heart—she isn't sure it's hers again yet. Sometimes she doubts it ever will be. She can't give him that, and she hopes what she can give him will be enough. Because she hadn't meant to use him. She should have been clearer. Lacking the ability to go back in time (and hoping the previous night doesn't have to be their last), Dhavi approaches him after most of the small camp has eaten their morning rations, and she—awkwardly—clears her throat. "Can we—talk?" she asks, fingers tapping the cup that holds her morning tea, dark eyes failing to meet his, uncharacteristically shy. “Privately.”

throughout the forward camp a damp chill has settled with the dewy, morning mist. scouts emerge from their tents, rubbing at their eyes; the scent of day-old lit kindling wafts between the sounds of inquisition rations being prepared, water boiling for tea, as the camp residents give way to the beginnings of their day.

fenris had been the first up. and the first out of the inquisitor's tent by the time daylight crested. it was not entirely unlike him; the last to rest, the first to rise in the time spent on the road, it was something he'd grown used to quite quickly, before even his recruitment into the cause. but this time, it is marked with discretion. not for his own sake — no, fenris did not care for the whisperings, not when there were far greater things to concern himself with — but for the woman approaching him where he sits atop a downed log, lethendralis leveled in his lap and oiled rag in hand. because while he did not care himself, it was not a topic they'd had the chance to discuss: how dhavi might feel about it. whisperings. rumors, should the nature of the events of the night before circulate.

hard to discuss, really, when fenris was far too busy acquainting himself with how she might feel in another manner. the reciprocal want had been uninhibited, but foolhardy, given the looming proximity of . . . well, complications. it was easy to overlook, though, with the heated weight of that glittering gaze of hers, and the adrenaline that seared within him even after the fight calmed. 

the flat of his ear twitches with the clear of dhavihal's throat, and fenris lifts his head. privacy, she asks for, and conversation. over what, fenris only has to guess. there's a nervousness in the rhythmic tapping of her fingertips, and a refusal — inability? — to meet his eyes, and fenris knows not whether to be amused or bemused by it.

it could remain that: want. it was not the first time he'd been impulsive. he could let it be, if that was what she wanted. 

nor the first time he'd lied to himself on matters of he heart, either. 

fenris, though, is getting ahead of himself.  ❛ of course. ❜  a quick duck of his head, a nod, as the warrior stands, folds the oiled rag he'd held limp in his grasp neatly atop the log for retrieval later, and slides lethendralis into its scabbard strapped to his back. fully dressed, is he, and ready to head out as soon as she'd been.  ❛ i will . . . follow you. ❜

[inevitableking]

@keepslore sent: You’re lonely too. // for king!alistair. it's lonely at the top or smth Deathless Starters | Accepting

His first instinct is to laugh it off and to make some kind of joke about how impossible it is to be lonely when you're surrounded by a castle full of servants and advisors and who knows who else. But the way Dhavi is looking at him tells him that she would see right through that lie, either from personal experience or because it's simply not true. It is possible to the be the loneliest person even when in the company of hundreds.

"That seems like an unfair observation," he murmurs without any real heat in the words, because they both know she's right.

He can't pretend she isn't for very long. Alistair takes a moment to approach the nearest window and look out at the activity happening around them, everybody below them busy with their own lives and priorities and everything else. But what does he have with his own life besides constantly giving it to others? What does a leader have with their people

She does understand, he realizes, and he turns back to her. "It's not something you can complain about either, is it? It sounds absolutely ridiculous when you say it out loud. Melodramatic, even. Poor lonely king in his full castle."

He blinks rapidly for a moment, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "What if we are lonely?" he asks quietly. "What is there to be done about it?"

[felledarrow]

🌵 ✨ 🍁

@keepslore / positivity time! accepting.

🌵 a canon rp blog i recommend

I’m realizing that I follow a lot of people who write oc’s lol but I simply CANNOT give enough praise to harrow on @fenanera. his take on solas is truly unique and captivating. he really manages to highlight the best and worst of solas in a way that feels very true to the character and his themes. he shows us that solas is angry, grieving, manipulative, and so so so full of love.

✨ a multimuse blog i recommend

speaking of following a lot of people who write their oc’s, I absolute adore @bloodlaurel. dotty’s oc’s are especially delightful to read about in their complexity and their backstories are amazing. one day I’ll get her to feel more confident writing canon characters, but she does an amazing job with cullen and merrill as well.

🍁 my favorite blog duo

I’m gonna be a little cheeky and say you, lou, and @skyheld! I think about dhavi and ameridan’s relationship often. it’s very sweet and genuinely one of my favorites. and I’m so obsessed with whatever the hell dhavi and hakkon have going on.

[avrorean]

@keepslore. For all her faith in the Order and the Chantry, Seeker Pentaghast excels at one thing that is absolutely vital to Dhavihal's perception of what led to the mage rebellion (beyond the obvious, of course). Seeker Pentaghast always begins with a straightforward and matter-of-fact description of whatever aspect of Circle life the Inquisitor has asked after, and she withholds her biased defenses until criticisms arise.

"The Right of Annulment," she answers today, "is the right of a Grand Cleric to order for any Circle to be purged of mages entirely, should the Circle be considered irredeemable."

Dhavihal's brows pull together, and she feels her mouth begin to open before she has even thought of a response. Something in her chest twists and tightens, but she presses on. "Define—purged. Surely you don't mean you would perform the Rite of Tranquility on all of them?"

"No, Inquisitor. In this case, to purge a Circle would mean to condemn the mages within." She clears her throat before pressing on. "To death, I mean. It is considered an extreme option—"

"But it is an option!" Dhavihal's voice raises without meaning to, a nearby candle burning so hot and bright that the wick became ash before the wax had a chance to melt, extinguishing it. She realizes she has stood with her outburst, and the Commander, Seeker, Ambassador, and Spymaster stare at their Inquisitor. The conversation at hand, she realizes, is commonplace for them. A horror that exists in their world but is considered necessary, no matter how horrific. Something they can ignore, a fate they can blame on the mages should it arise.

She presses her lips together in a thin line, digs her fingernail into the pad of her thumb, and resists the urge to dismiss all of them at once, permanently. "As if I needed more reason to agree with the mages," she sighs, shaking her head. "I need to breathe. We will resume in an hour." They scramble to their feet as she leaves the room, not waiting for a response from them to do so.

As she walks, Dhavihal massages the point between her brows, feeling a headache beginning to form behind her eyes. Then her fingers thread through the roots of her curls, fluffing them before sliding back out. And again. Before long, she finds herself at the door to Nanna's chambers, rapping lightly. One question sticks in her mind, one she doesn't trust her advisors to answer without their own biases.

When Nanna answers the door, Dhavihal is clearly rattled, but she tries to force something like a polite smile nonetheless. "Nanna, I—" She swallows. Suddenly asking the woman about the terror that blanketed her in the Circle feels crass, and her smile falters. "Do you have a moment? I had a question about what life was like in the Circle, if that's alright."

The flowing cursive script of official letters dotted several of the soft and colorful pillows that Nanna had strewn across her bed, each with a wax seal popped and left to weigh the paper to the duvet. A variety of issues were piled between them—a quarrel between the local Banns, status updates on Warden activity, a few written in delicate enchanted cipher, all of which would require a response.

The droning script of Lord on the matter of revisiting trade agreements had Nanna blowing a stray coil out of her face to keep herself focused, flown free from the messy way she'd pulled back her hair. Even if her presence hadn't been required in this particular meeting between the Inquisitor and her Advisors, Nanna had plenty of work to occupy herself until she next saw the field.

A sudden rapping at her door broke through the monotonous message, and it was all Nanna could do to keep herself from flinging the paper aside in relief at the welcome distraction, but thought better of it before gathering the papers up a little more neatly. Admittedly, not many people came knocking for her, all things considered.

Not Solas, then.The intruding thought tugged the corners of her mouth into a toothy grin meant for none other than herself, the bubble of a laugh threatening the back of her throat that Nanna only just pushed down to maintain some air of dignity in case it was important.

But the one who awaited her, and in what state, shuttered the merry thought, and the surprise made Nanna's smile drop to cobbled stone between them.

“Dhavihal?”

And so it was—but the warmth of the Inquisition's leader had somewhat dimmed since today's meeting, and frayed nerves weighed a heavy cloak around her shoulders beneath the pull of a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Nanna was silent as Dhavihal made her hesitant request, the dark of her own violet eyes instinctively picking at every fraying detail she could see in the other woman's body language. While it was true that the woman seldom had time to relax, this clearly went further than that. That wasn't a typical question, after all. Something had happened.

"Of course.” She stepped aside with a carefully forged smile, letting her own warmth soften the edges of its crafting as she stepped aside to allow Dhavihal into her room, and closing the heavy oaken door behind her. “Sit wherever you like. Would you like something to drink first? I do not mind making a trip to the kitchens for some tea.”

[fenanera]

not based on who you play but based on you rambling in my dms, i must say ganondorf. a bit more based on who you currently play, i'd be interested to see your take on urianger ffxiv

SEND ME A CHARACTER TO PLAY | @keepslore

hfjkgh he shall be on my multi very soon once i get some time to type him up; i'm so cheesed you liked my ramblings on him, the lore on him + gerudo in general has been so rancid. for urianger, i admittedly am still in the very very Very beginning of ffxiv so idk who that is yet, but just on the wiki alone .... yeah. yeah. that seems like someone i'd form an attachment to jdfk

[theodosiani]

@keepslore sent: “I’m sorry, but no.” // elvhenan dhavi for ghil

"He is one of June's finest artisans," There is a smile in Ghilan'nain's voice as she attends to her halla keeper. It is funny almost, attending to her attendant but Ghilan'nain had once been like her. Had once been so loyal and devoted and dutiful and so Dhavi is one of her favorites. It's why she keeps her with the halla when there are likely better fits for her skillset but those places might draw Andruil's golden eyes, "But if he is not to your liking, I will decline his request for your hand."

Were she married it would be less troublesome, Andruil would have no need to deem her a threat for Ghilan'nain's affection. A ridiculous notion, for no one fills her heart so much as Andruil but her love's heart is a capricious one. That Ghilan'nain can spare even a sliver of her own is something to be crushed before it can grow, so the goddess must always be careful with her favor.

"Is it duty or is there someone who has caught your eye that has you spurning my suggestions so, lethallan?"

[anecdotist]

@keepslore asked: haven't you ever done anything crazy for love? // for dorian :) some ask meme i don't remember / meme tag

His hands freeze in the middle of --something. He was doing something before this walloped him outside the head. One injured, zero survivors, the white flag of surrender is waving frantically. The time for witty answers to deflect, to divert attention literally anywhere else is now, right now, and the only thing Dorian can think of is--

Skin sweet as honey. Hair just begging for fingers to be run through it. A throat he wanted to make a meal of--and did. Many, many times.

They'd actually held hands once. In bed, sure, but he actually can't think of another time he'd done that. Even as a child, it was always being guided by hovering hands over his shoulders, the back of his head, some servant walking in front of him.

Fuck the Inquisitor. Fuck his memories. Fuck fucking fuck fuck.

"I got a tattoo, once." That is--not what he wants to say, but it's also been too long for him to not say something at least somewhat answering the question while not saying something fluffy and soft and obscenely vulnerable. "Unfortunately, I think Solas' head will explode if I show you."

A pause long enough for a Cheshire grin and a mischievous twirl of his mustache.

"On second thought--how comfortable are you with the naked male form?"