#malcolmhawke

[ataashe]

[ The Iron Bull has been watching him. Of course, he watches everyone, so perhaps it's not so strange. Except where he looks on his chargers with something protective and possessive, instead there's calculation in Bull's  remaining eye every time it turns to Malcolm.                 And the next time the food gets passed around,               the Qunari is there, broad enough to block out               the fire's glow as he leans close and hands Hawke               a bowl. Before the other man can pull away, he says. ] "-- I have one question. Only this."              [ Bull nods to the lingering bruises,               what's left of the injuries from the night                the Chargers had found Malcolm. ] "... is who ever did that   going to be a problem? Because I'd rather handle them now rather than later..."

[nutrimentum-blog]

ily kiss kiss =3=

HONHONHON, TRÈS BIEN. B]

[nutrimentum-blog]

[ walk into the club like what up i'm incapable of managing rp blogs ]

[ofhawkiingsarchive-blog]

- sees this post - - looks at relationship page - my milkshake did good. it did very good. and dad can't stop it.

[ofdxlish]

Mihtriel slips -- bare feet causing her to skid on her own floor. The red ribbon is still tied loosely around her neck, flapping out behind the elf as she tries to put together and find the items she's strewn about.      It's just a quick and sneaky trip down to Dagna and back before it's ready. Shouldering the long, leather-wrapped item over one shoulder, the elf clad in a loose shirt and slacks makes way for her door and right outside. It's not long before she's there, knocking gently on his door.

"Malcolm -- ?"

[of-hellfire-blog]

malcolm-hawke

y'know we should be friends. oh wait

[ofdxlish]

♦:Slow dancing

"I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Malcolm." Mihtriel says up to him. She wasn’t one for parties - let alone Orlesian Balls. The Inquisition had been invited, luckily this time with a lot less assassins and something more of a festivity. She’d taken some time out and away from the crowds — dull music playing in the background when he had approached her in one of the side gardens.     Mihtriel blushes slightly, messing with the gloves that went with her uniform."….. I am not taking blame for the toes I’m going to step on either." The Dalish adds. Gently, she takes one hand and places the other on his hip like Josephine had shown her.    ”I’m horrible at this.” She chuckles sheepishly.

[ofdxlish]

malcolm-hawke​:

—-Lips press into a hard line, brows furrow,and shoulders tense as chilled fingertips traces the expanse of marred flesh across the inside of his forearm. Most times he forgets it is there; so deep is the scar itself that the cool patch of skin is numb. But he can feel it as she prods at it curiously, and it sends a hard chill down the length of his spine as the memories coupled with such a wound drift back to him. He’s young, in love, and simply looking to protect his family. —-He clears his throat, shifts away slightly,and offers a forced smile before tugging on a worn tunic. “We’ve much to do, today hm? Let’s get to it.” “

Mihtriel is simply fascinated. She knows of a few lingering scars along her hands and arms that look similar to this -- but she doesn't question it. Before she stops she's cut off, reminded that touching sensitive spots like that are probably very unwelcome and uncomfortable.  

Mihtriel steps back sheepishly, shoving hair from her eyes and nodding.

"I ah -- yes. Of course." The Dalish returns. Slipping her sleeves back down to cover a few bruises and marks of her own, the elf checks to make sure her Mark is properly covered. She nods and waits patiently for Malcolm.