#mithari lavellan

[lyrium-lavellan]

Tumblr don’t you fucking dare flag this I spent an extra 5 seconds drawing on those fried eggs

[lyrium-lavellan]

ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵐᵉ, ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢʰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᶦᶠᵉ ⁻ ᵇᵃᵇʸ, ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵃʸ ⁿᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ, ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢʰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᶦᶠᵉ

[lyrium-lavellan]

The tired parent energy of these two is off the charts

[lyrium-lavellan]

32. Dust motes for Mithari!! (Am I spelling it right?) ♡♡♡

32. Dust Motes - for Mithari(it’s spelled correctly! You did great 😊)

Ari never did like old places. They smelled like dust and mildew and memories. Old was good, though, like her clan always said. Old meant remembering, preserving. Old meant reverence.

“Mithari. Wheel of Blades. The histories of our people are yours to defend.”

It was different to Bull. He traced his fingers across her vallaslin, the blood writing that painted nearly every inch of her skin. She was beautiful - brave, strong, and stubborn. She carried the weight of the world on her delicate shoulders, and yet still had time for tenderness.

“What do they mean? Your tattoos. Always thought I should ask someday.” He murmurs into the soft pink flesh of her belly. She was so tiny next to him, he thought he would crush her. But he didn’t. And she never said katoh.

“They’re symbols of my people. Stories that we tell. Histories we want to protect and tell our own children.” Ari rolls onto her side to show her back, covered in intricate writing and small renditions of trees and battles. “They’re written into my skin, so I don’t forget them. It was the greatest honor my clan could bestow on me. I hope I do them justice.”

“You do, ‘Thari.” Bull says, placing a gentle, chaste kiss on his lover’s forehead. “I don’t think you could disappoint them if you tried.”

Send prompts for either Vel/Varric, Nehri/Solas, Ari/Bull or Isolde/Sten!

[lyrium-lavellan]

Y’all but I used this site to compare the heights of my Inquisitors and their LI’s and... AOISAKHJK ARI IS SO TINY COMPARED TO BULL 😂

[lyrium-lavellan]

ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵒⁿ ᵗʷᵒ ˡᵉᵍˢ, ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵗᵉᵃʳᶦⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ ᵃᵖᵃʳᵗ ⁻ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵒⁿ ᵗʷᵒ ˡᵉᵍˢ, ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ

[lyrium-lavellan]

introducing my Mahariel~ She’s gay and a whole dumbass and I love her! courtesy of this picrew! 

From Left to Right ~ Fellenasta Mahariel ~ Teya Adaar ~ Velahris Lavellan ~ Cassia Cadash ~ Mithari Syrillon Lavellan ~ Nehriel Lavellan

[lyrium-lavellan]

The aesthetics of all my OCs are wildly different and I just love them so much!!! I had a bunch of thoughts and needed to write ‘em down so here’s some pairing aesthetics!

Vel and Varric are busy taverns with clever names serving cheap, shitty ale; ink-stained hands dripping color onto each other’s skin. The sound of coins clinking on well-worn tables, backs pressed up against doors. They are confidence and ease. They are knowing.

Ari and Bull are bloody hands and war paint, the rhythm of the drums like the thumping of still-beating hearts torn from the chests of gods. They are instinct and desire, ripped sheets and heated kisses. They are primal.

Nehri and Solas are an endless, flat sea - magnificent and green, the calm after a storm. And yet, they are the storm. They are the wind in the trees, the howling of the wolves on a frigid winter’s night. They are omnipotent- they are divine.

Ash and Dorian are the softness of marble in the hands of a master sculptor, humid summer evenings soaked in wine and sweat. They are the soft touch of silk, a high-cut collar angled dangerously upward towards the heavens. They dare to defy. They are rebellion.

Teya and Sera are terrible jokes and toothy grins, the cool touch of a sharp blade against the skin. They are the lights in the city on a foggy night, and the danger lurking behind every shadow. They are blasphemous - They are irreverence.

Cassia and Blackwall are honeysuckle blossoms and lamb’s wool, the crocuses peeking through the snow in the first warm days of spring. They are the calloused hands of laborers, the courage of soldiers, memories of hardship never to be forgotten. They are virtue - They are righteous.