tagged by my lovely friends @gingervitus @biowaredisasterbisexual @serensama & the ever-delightful @hedwigoprah who created one of the most fun writing games on tumblr dot com (:
I will tag @antivan-sprig & @the-sparrohawk and whoever else would like to learn new words with us <3
Iniquity (n):
Def: Deviation from what is right; wickedness, gross injustice. An unfair act or unconscionable deed. Hostility, malevolence, lawlessness. Denial of the sovereignty of God.
do I think i used the word right? I'm not sure. Was the use of the word a complete afterthought because I wrote this and I liked it and I do what i want? yes.
also this is a follow up to this blurb if that matters to anyone (it does to me)
faction dividers here(:
Davrin has to pull on the door as his key turns in the lock, just one of the many quirks of the flat they've taken residence in. And the moment it's open, he knows something is off. It's the energy that pours out from inside more than anything truly tangible.
His hand hovers just over his sword-hilt as he steps inside—where he finds Assan, eyes wide and staring at him from the couch. His head tilts inquisitively, driving Davrin's attention to where Cyri has halted from where she'd very obviously been pacing. Upon seeing him, her eyes light with something like fury.
"What is that?" Cyri demands, throwing out a finger in the direction of the thing winking at him from her desk. Davrin let his eyes drift to it, tries not to let his lips curl too much as they drift back.
"You haven't seen a ring before?"
Her pointed finger turns to him, sharp as any blade as her eyes narrow to something murderous—interesting. Davrin wonders if he should want to kiss her quite so badly when she looks at him like that.
Cyri crosses her arms emphatically over her chest, "Explain."
He lifts an eyebrow, remaining safely sequestered to his side of the battlefield, "I don't think I need to."
According to Neve, a betrothal ring was common practice in Tevinter, and usually came with a contract. The one he'd had made was a bit different than what he'd come to learn was traditional, so truth be told he's quite pleased that she recognized it for what it is.
She must have, to be reacting like he's just dealt her some iniquity.
It probably shouldn't delight him as much as it is.
Davrin takes one step forward. Her eyes follow warily, as though preparing for him to strike at any moment. He continues well until he's encroaching into enemy territory, decidedly not retrieving his weapon of choice. She takes note of that, eyes narrowing slightly as he continues forward.
She allows his hands to slide into her hair until he's cradling her scowling face.
"Why?" she asks.
And this time, he allows himself to smile at her, "Because I love you." he kisses her, still smiling. "And I want to."
Another kiss that lingers, warm and reassuring. Davrin tilts her head back just slightly as her fingers tug him closer by his belt. She sighs into it, which is the only thing close to surrender she'll ever admit.
"You haven't asked me." she murmurs against his lips, and his smile widens to the point of pain, something which isn't unusual when he's around her. He's taken with thinking it's a distinct vulnerability.
"No." he agrees.
Cyri pulls back slightly, eyes searching his face. She waits one moment. Two.
"I hate you."
But she allows him to kiss her again, "I have a plan." he assures her. "It isn't my fault you've spoiled the surprise for yourself."
"Liar." she mutters against his lips, and when he opens his eyes, he finds her eyes narrowed to accusatory slits. "You wanted me to find it."
Davrin shrugs, too nonchalant to be truthful. "Why would you say—?"
"It was in the bottom drawer of my desk."
"At the back of it."
"My desk—"
"I didn't want you to panic," Davrin presses another kiss to her now pouting mouth, quite satisfied with himself. "When I do ask."
She arches a stern eyebrow in his direction, a hand flat on his chest. a deterrent to his usual form of peacemaking. "Which will be?"
He hums vaguely, "Because telling you seems like something I'd do."
"You are insufferable." Cyri groans, but when he hugs her to his chest, her arms wind around his middle.
Davrin presses a kiss to the top of her head—and he does think of it, asking her now. But he holds his tongue, determined to do this the right way. He wasn't lying when he said he had a plan.
It just so happened that this was a part of it.
They'd never discussed it in direct terms, and blindsiding her in a room with all her loved ones seemed unfair, but he suspected that if he'd tried to broach the topic in what might be considered a normal manner, she'd run.
Not in any physical sense—though he can't help holding her a little tighter at the thought—but she had a way of doing that sometimes. Pulling away.
Even after all this time, she's afraid. Of what, he's never been able to pinpoint. It seems to him that what terrifies her most is wanting things, especially when they're things she wants for herself. But it just so happens that this is something he wants just as badly. He's happy to pretend that's the only reason he's doing it, if that's what she needs.
Whatever she needs for the rest of time—whatever she wants, too—that's what he's willing to give her. He only hopes she'll take him up on the offer.
Jess wrote a drabble that's less than 1000 words (837) & everyone clapped. 🎊
The real story behind the saree making the news is one woman, Roshan Appa’s insistence that if Meghan Markle should support the girls in India, she should first understand our culture. She went to the local market to pick up a saree, and the smallest size golden blouse she could find. The other women got so excited that they then also got bindis and bangles to go along with it. When Meghan arrived, no one knew how to ask her to change into a saree! What was appropriate? We didn’t know.
But our women are go-getters. Roshan Appa, being the mother she is, went up to her confidently and requested in Hindi if she could do a favor for her. I translated. When Meghan nodded, suddenly there was an excitement in the room. All the women started giggling, and then Roshan Appa finally brought out her saree and showed it to her. She pointed at her and then at the saree.
Meghan understood her messaging, smiled and said, “I have never worn a saree before! This is beautiful! Thank you so much.” She asked if she could wear this now and if the women can help her put it on. 10 women followed her into another room to dress her in the saree.
Then one woman comes out panicking. “Shoes laane bhool gaye! (We forgot to get shoes (for her)!” Another spotted the shoes Meghan has come in, marked the size and then rushed to the local market.
15 minutes later, Meghan was stunning in the saree selected by Roshan Appa, adorned in the love and respect all those who dressed her, and the sparkling new Indian sandals. The women looked at her proudly. Meghan’s ease with the whole process surprised them. She was so welcoming, open, and genuine. She keenly listened, walked around the slum, ate locally made food, and sat floor the floor to talk to groups of girls and women, all in a saree she had worn for the first time.
She knew it meant more to the women that she wore it than it may have for her, and she did it for them.
She had just won their hearts. And that’s the power of her blue saree.
Suhani Jalota of the Myna Mahila Foundation explains the story behind Meghan’s saree from her trip to India in 2017
