#oholyvile

[elvenflower]

@oholyvile liked this

       Tevinter was a strange place. Though Aoife had heard tales no of them quite captured just how strange and different it was to Ferelden and Orlais. From the moment she’d crossed the border the little elf had felt like she’d stepped into a different world entirely. Mages here were revered instead of feared. They were the ones in charge of everything. Of course that meant little for her, even though she could use magic she was still an elf and more so here than back home that meant you were at the very bottom of the food chain.

       So she’d moved from house to house working where she could, still keeping her magic secret, and trying to stay away from the slavers. For the most part, Aoife was able to stay under the radar. Though perhaps this last job hadn’t been the smartest idea. She was currently working in the kitchen of the Black Divine himself. A mere assistant, but she was usually left to start things on her own early in the morning when she had proved herself capable.

       It was one such morning that she finally came face to face with his Holiness. Aoife had entered the kitchen early to start on breads and pies. She was humming to herself as she kneaded the dough, flour was smeared on her face and up her arms hair pulled up in a messy bun. Turning towards the oven, she didn’t think twice to use her magic to start the fire in it. It was a practiced move, one she’d done a million times before when thinking she was alone.

       It wasn’t until she turned back around that she realized her mistake. The color drained from her cheeks instantly. “I -- I --- you’re Holiness.” Aoife immediately bowed low, her accent coming through even thicker in her panic. How was one even suppose to act around a Divine. “Forgive me, I didn’t expect you.” Her eyes darted towards the fire she’d just made and back to him before looking at the floor. “I can explain....”

[vintyvanora]

ღ B)

attraction meme||accepting

Romantic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extremeSexual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extremeAesthetic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sensual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

[magisterivm]

oholyvile liked for a starter:

“The world appears to be... swirling, Your Grace. Please, humour me: it’s just me, isn’t it?”

[favcurite-blog]

♠

     meme   |  symbol headcanons.

♠ the riskiest thing my muse has ever done.

                 ahhh, this is really hard. i mean, he tends to push his boundaries                 when with his Master often. it’s risky when he does it in the                  presence of others. i’d say up until this point he’s a pretty good                 boy. the riskiest thing he’s done is speak a bit too openly with the                 Divine ( @oholyvile ) but most interactions with aure are quite                 risky. ‘specailly for one so easily a) entranced or b) riled into being                 sassy. YOU DO NOT TELL THE DIVINE HIS SERVANTS AIN’T                  THAT PRETTY. 

[ofanderfels-blog]

 ;;oholyvile

liked [ this ] for a starter

               &&. as a child in the Circle, he wondered what                          it felt like to be free of the Chantry -- he                        had forgotten, and the memories of the                       Anderfels long-faded. As a man -- no an                       apostate for in the eyes of the Chantry he                       was less than human -- on the run, he had                       often fantasized about traveling to Tevinter,                       but never did he arrive. The least of blood                       known as a phylactery had always alerted                       the Templars of his presence. As an                       escape-artist locked up in solitary, Anders                       had wondered about the outside word with                       every waking moment...

                      As a Warden, his fancies of living far, far                        away from Chantry rule had been all but                       forgotten, and in Kirkwall he hadn’t the time.                       But after Kirkwall... Then he was on the                        ‘ run ‘ again, having to flee the city after                       destroying the Chantry. It was then that                       the fancies came back -- to live life                       without having to look over his shoulder for                       anyone. 

                      And, perhaps that is how he found himself                       here, in the Tevinter Imperium. Even thing                       is so different and foreign -- there are no                       dogs barking in the distance, unlike                       Ferelden, and the air is pleasantly free of the                       hazardous haze that always seems to settle                       over the City of Chains. It’s a great deal                       warmer, too, yet he doesn’t shed his many                       layers -- he has nowhere to put them, and                       isn’t terribly keen on carrying them either.                       Despite everything, however, there is a                       sense of unease that hangs in the air. 

                      For a moment, the mage wonders if it is                       Justice -- or is he Vengeance now -- that                       is causing the feeling. It makes sense,                       seeing as how there’s at least one slave in                       nearly every second place he looks. There                       are emotions each time his eyes fall on one,                       but he does not mistake them for Rage. Still,                       the last thing he needs is to have his Spirit                       burst forth in the middle of what he assumes                       to be a marketplace.

[hereticcl-blog]

✘. oholyvile.

         SHE refused the offer to go to Tevinter. If there was to be a meeting between the INQUISITOR and the Black Divine, then it would be here, in Skyhold, where she could be surrounded by both the walls of her fortress and her armed, armored retinue. And here -- after the Lady Ambassador’s back and forth with the Imperium, they both could stand, meeting. 

                      Ahurani wasn’t sure what to expect, and if she expected anything, it would                            not have been what she would SEE. 

               Fear clawed up her throat, and she let her hands ball into fists at her side.

                                                   “Your Holiness,” Josephine had instructed her beforehand,                                                           on the proper honorific to greet him with. “It is an HONOR                                                            to meet you. I am Inquisitor Lavellan.”

[blasphemiic-blog]

oholyvile​

   Tact is only something that Thomas can manage when he’s sober or lightly buzzed--    the usual state he wanders Skyhold in. Having the damn Archon lurking around certainly    doesn’t make him more inclined to politeness, particularly after it became obvious that    the Archon sneered at all of them. So Thomas had taken to just ignoring the man, or    snubbing him as often as possible. When he sees him in the tavern, Thomas’ haven, he’s    already four or five bottles in, and there is no chance for politely ignoring him. So when    one of his drinking buddies points it out, Thomas just laughs, exclaiming in a voice a tad     too loud for the place,

       “No idea what he’s doing here. I thought        we were all below his Holiness.”