#palavenblues

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palavenblues replied to your post:I made a post about welcoming new followers and...

*hugs* I lost a mutual today. No idea why :/

Oh no! I'm so sorry dear *hugs* Perhaps it was an accident? If you'll recall I used to accidentally unfollow you any time I messaged you on mobile.

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Bethany/Fenris

A+ It’s pretty much the only ship I ship Bethany in. Bethris 5ever

[bioticbooty]

booty lovin' blogs:

riptidemonzarc

palavenblues

theoriginalimpossiblesoufflegirl

eternalshiva

officialpajamaelf

saintsflows

biotictrash

cellostargalactica

dgcatanisiri

ayyyyyyy

[stargirl-luna]

palavenblues replied to your post

“I love that the Dalish are suddenly Irish. That’s fantastic.”

Whaaa?

in DAO, the dalish have the general british-ish accent but in da2 they've got irish accents.

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palavenblues replied to your photo:I am a child. A child who has a lot of followers....

Blaze it.For medicinal reasons.

*lights the follower count on fire* Aw yis. *knows nothing about drugs*

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palavenblues replied to your post: Wow. My birthday is tomorrow. I totall...

HAPPY FREAKING BIRTHDAY

*super hugs* THANK YOU WOOO! also thank you on skype too xD

[mythalrisingarchive-blog]

You still taking prompts? Cause I can totally see Cass as a tough greaser and Varric as the book-writing nerd with a crush on her.

not sure if nerd is applicable to Varric? so i tweaked a little, hope you like!

Varric tended to have an eye for stories. He was a business man first and foremost, of course, but writing was something he was good at. It was something he enjoyed. And who said writing wasn’t business? He thought it counted just the same.

Having such a keen eye for stories, it didn’t take much for something to trigger an idea. Generally, his characters were inspired by his friends, people he had met. His most widely-sold novel, The Tale of the Champion, had been based on his friend Hawke and her posse (of which he was a proud part). His lesser-known series, Swords and Shields, had a main character based on their mutual friend Aveline and her husband, Donnic. 

This, however, was slightly different from his normal inspiration.

He noticed the woman when he was sitting in a starbucks - what can he say, some cliché’s were worth buying into - staring out the window and watching people walk by. He was supposed to be working, but he’d gotten distracted. 

If his publisher asked, he would say he was ‘gathering information’. And it wasn’t even a lie, exactly. The information just never seemed relevant, however.

Until today. Today, one of those people made a very clear impression.

She had caught his attention when she roared up on a motorcycle - sleek, black, and fancy. Varric didn’t know shit about cars, but he could figure out which ones cost more than others. That was child’s play.

He watched her from his peripherals, chin propped up on his hand. She stood in a fluid motion, black-boots connecting with the asphalt, and when gloved hands pulled off her helmet he nearly forgot to be subtle about his staring (but only nearly).

Her face was made of sharp angles - he hazard to go so far as to say there wasn’t anything remotely soft about her. A hard, wide jaw, jagged cheekbones (the one facing him bisected with a pink scar), and a pointed nose that seemed to have a small knot near the bridge that disrupted the otherwise smooth line. She turned more fully, facing him straight-on as she took off her gloves, and he retracted his earlier statement. Her lips looked soft - slightly unbalanced, perhaps a little wide, but the skin was smooth and glossy.

Glossy? Now that was a kick. A biker who wore lipgloss. That wasn’t something you heard every day.

Black hair slashed across her forehead, jagged and unkempt. He couldn’t tell if that was purposeful or just carefully styled.

She looked up and he looked away, but not before he noticed her eyes were hazel.

Had someone asked him why he seemed so fixated, he wouldn’t have a single damn answer. After a moments thought, however, he supposed it was because she was striking. She certainly broadcasted a certain image, and perhaps it was that which caught his eye. The atmosphere she provided was like something you would read in a novel. 

That was how Varric found the inspiration to start another book. Not that he needed another, of course, but at least it wasn’t a series (or so he hoped). A figure like that though - one that left an impression - wasn’t something to just throw away. It was something to savor.

He watched her subtly as she met with a few people, none of which looked quite as leather-bound and hard as her, and the group made their way into the coffee shop. 

In his mind, Varric was already formulating a plot. A character. A story.

"Are you getting something today, Cassandra?" the slender redhead asked, the french accent catching Varric off guard slightly.

"Perhaps," the biker spoke., her voice entirely unexpected but surprisingly suiting. He couldn’t place her accent - was it germanic? European? Shit, he had no idea. She didn’t look European. “I have not decided.”

"Might I suggest you start?" the lone-male of the group said, glancing towards Cassandra. His blonde hair was slicked back slightly with gel, but if Varric looked closely enough he could see a few curls starting to escape their prison. "The line’s short today."

"You go ahead," Cassandra said, shaking her head. "If I want something, I’ll get in line."

The group parted, three going ahead while Cassandra stayed behind, and Varric kept his peripherals on her as he opened his laptop and pulled up a new document. 

With her presence in his mind, he began to write, crafting a character based around her - a character that went nameless. He called her the Seeker.

The group left half an hour later, coffee’s in hand as they walked down the street. Window shopping, no doubt. Even though the woman was long gone, she had left a lasting impression.

He just hoped the fictionalized version of her stood up to the real thing. He assumed he would never know.

(TBC?)

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Kate Shepard can sing, play guitar, and play piano. None of her crew have seen any musical ability because she left it all on Mindoir, along with family singalongs and seven siblings.

Ouch.

Ori Lavellan's favorite part of learning Dalish and Elven history was learning the songs they remembered. She used to sing them in the tavern with some of the Inner Circle, but since Solas told her the truth about the vallaslin, she hasn't sang them.