#praeceptore-m

[ruinofostagar]

praeceptore-m replied to your post: When people finally go at @praeceptore-m instead...

me ? disowning u ? more likelY THAN U THINK !!!

Um no, that's not allowed sorry you can't disown me or all of Ferelden will disown you.

[valorcorrupt]

Slurred words !!!

send “slurred words” to hear my muse describe yours while drunk || selectively accepting

She stares too long when he’s in the room. 

She knows she does it, knows she watches his movements too closely, studies his face like she’s a would-be scholar of an old and ancient kind of hurting, something that sinks below the skin, wounds beyond speaking, scars beyond healing.

So it comes as no surprise. “Do you and the Commander... know each other?”

The look she turns on the Tevinter might have made lesser men turn and run. 

     “We do,” she answers. “Sort of.”

Dorian’s eyebrows raise, and Inara considers walking away. But the alcohol clouds her brain, makes her sway as she stands, and she needs the bar to hold onto. Probably. Anyway, this is where the drinks are. 

     “We met during the Blight,” she says, the memory as bitter as the liquor on her tongue. She’s not sure he’d want to know. “I tried to save his life but--” but did she? She still doesn’t know, could never say. Perhaps it would have been kinder to kill him. Perhaps no one should have to live what he lived through. Perhaps her sort of mercy hadn’t been mercy at all. She only wishes he could have given her cause to kill him without guilt. (Perhaps he still might.)

     “He was badly wounded when I found him.” Weren’t they all? She still has nightmares about those halls. No one walked away from those days unscathed. No one. “Seems better now. He seems-- a little more at peace, at least.” And she hopes that’s true. She frowns. “Takes a Hell of a man to keep on living after some things,” she muses. 

She knows -- she’s been there.

     “I just hope he’s on the right side of the flames now, is all.”

[valorcorrupt]

praeceptore-m replied to your post: praeceptore-m replied to your post: ...

Cullen: well at least *I* don’t have orlesian blood in me *coughing into his fur rug*

vigilflight: remember that time he wore a chevaliers helmet

praeceptore-m: @vigilflight I'm cry I can't believe they shoved a helmet on him to fix a glitch that still makes me sob tbh dhsjs

Inara voice: U WORE CHEVALIER ARMOR and you call urself a Lion you may as well BE ORLESIAN BLOOD!!!

[valorcorrupt]

praeceptore-m replied to your post: //that episode of Friends where Phoebe finds out...

Cullen, in the distance: how could u betray me like dis inara /) ������

Inara voice: says the “”””Lion of Ferelden””””???

[valorcorrupt]

praeceptore-m replied to your post: Okay so I not-so-subtly stalk your blog and I...

Merc army is growing xD

//idk if I can take the pressure of having an army tbh?? I’m pretty sure I’d be a super-villain if I had powers so uh.  I’m concerned.

[valorcorrupt]

I lov you and I lov Inara and anyone who disagrees can meet me in the bone pit tbh ❤ you're such a good egg and deserve the best /chus forehead

anonymously tell me what kind of vibe I give off

is “meet me in the bone pit” innuendo?

[schwarzcrfuchs]

meta: a fragment of his past ( can be anything you want! ) c:

the blade of the dagger was digging into Remi’s throat. body pinned to the ground by a larger frame, blood dropping from his split lip. the one in control did not look too much better, cheek bleeding from a wound that’d later form a scar.

karolis finally had the fox’s life in his hands. he just needed to push the blade a bit deeper and then slice his pretty throat open. but something was holding him back, like chains, maybe those pale green eyes that stared into his. like waiting for something, like they had found the doubt inside him.

❝ why? why didn’t you just give up? if you would just become like everyone else… you’d not be hurt. ❞

the question had kept karolis awake at night. to see the young man hide his injuries to throw another party or go to the orphanage in the alienage to bring presents. laughing and hiding the pain when a child jumped into his arms.

and then karolis felt startled when the bloodied lips curved into a smile.

❝ doing the right thing is never easy. wouldn’t have started if I hadn’t planned to go until the end… ❞

karolis lifted the dagger, high above his head and remi closed his eyes. looking nearly peaceful that way. the dagger hit the ground beside the young lord’s head and karolis got up, sighing.

❝ the right thing? huh? well didn’t do that in a while… I can try it for some time again… ❞

he offered his hand to remi, and the young man beamed up to him as he took his hand and lets himself be helped up.

❝ sounds good to me…  and… we probably should call for a healer from the circle… ❞

[righteousmade]

🌺 // it HAD to be done omg

🌺  what’s there to like? ( selective )

it’s hard to really consider this place a home, what with the single thing treasured and loved taken from him — stolen, trapped, kept under lock and key in a place worse than nightmares ( prison, you feel their breath upon your neck and eyes as sharp as the blades they wield — careful, not a toe out of line for fear of a mark upon one’s forehead ). here’s four walls and a roof made of stone that collect the wet and keep the cool. it’s rough, a little wet and harsh against his body ( a thin man, almost as bad as the robes he wears now damp from the water that seeps from stone ). 

there’s the familiar sound of metal — a clang, a slide, and a push of a tray. 

he holds a piece of fresh bread, warm and cupped in hands and he finds himself once more ravenous. but he waits, holds it there and allows the warm to spread across his hands before he begins to eat. a small scramble as he does, his back against the wall and anders looks up, just enough to catch the familiar glimpse of curled, blonde hair. 

a moment. eyes meet, and he decides this time he’ll give a small wink. 

that turns his head fast enough.

a sigh.

no beatings, no poison, no forced temptation to touch a spirit in the fade. but it was only a matter of time. the fool tries. more harm than good, but he tries; and he guesses — maybe that makes him less awful than the rest. still awful. but less so. for now at least.