Distant cousin to Neha and Ariette, was taken to the circle when she was young, around five or six, she can’t quite remember.
Is in perpetual family disgrace. Literally cannot give a flying fuck about them.
Was in a relationship with a Templar. He died. She REALLY doesn’t want to talk about it.
Because of said ‘not wanting to talk about it’ she doesn’t quite trust Cullen? There’s an underlying thing with Templars after the thing with her lover.
Honestly she’s still broken, and she really just needs a hug, to be honest.
A spin off of @fetchuses there is always light series.
They watched the sunset from the balcony of my bedroom, when Solas grabs her, bringing her in "It's time", she looks at him excited, "finally" "its time for the elftoot" she laughed "you mean elfroot?" He shook his head, and farted.
Brought to you by
[11:14:59 PM] Baberic Sexthras: guess who wrote elftoot for the third time today
[11:15:11 PM] ughhhhh: uhhh hmmm
[11:15:14 PM] ughhhhh: was it you
[11:15:16 PM] Baberic Sexthras: yes
[11:15:32 PM] ughhhhh: can I guess one of the lines?
Female Lavellan/Cassandra Pentaghast, Female Lavellan/Solas, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus, Cullen Rutherford/OC
Major character(s) death(s) (maybe), Hurt/comfort, Angst, probably violence.
Chaptered, Ao3
8. Silence;
They arrive at midnight three days later, the moons high in the sky and clouds covering most of the stars.
Cassandra wakes first, the distant sound of hooves pulling her from the fade, Fira's nightmare pushing her deeper into a never-ending darkness. She presses a kiss to the other's forehead after pulling clothes over her frame, not bothering to pin her braid, her curiosity and hope getting the better of her. The loss of her lover's heat beside her disturbs Fira slightly, but the fade was not done with her yet, and so she did not stir as Cass creeped down the stairs, careful not to make noise for fear of waking the other.
Cullen is staring down at letters with bleary eyes when the warrior makes it to the main hall, the walls eerily silent as her half tiptoed footsteps echo off of them. He barely acknowledges her presence, a hand running through his curls as he leans his back in his chair, putting his feet up onto the wooden table. Normally she'd chastise him for such an action, but right now she doesn't quite blame him, though the hunch in his shoulders was beginning to irk her slightly.
It could just be her imagination, the courtyard seemingly bare as she shuffled her way to the gates, sparing a look to the dimly lit tavern as she wanders past, a half thought spared to Bull, who she knew was wide awake inside the warm walls. Footsteps make dim noises on the stone stairs, hand reached out to the wall to focus herself, promising not to tell Fira if it was just a false alarm, not to get her hopes up. There's a tired soldier goading the horses into the stables and absently she wondered if the warden was awake, too. Her eyes glance around wearily before the other notices her, a stifled yawn stopping him in his tracks before he can answer her unspoken question. “Took 'em into the barracks, only place where someone's 'wake at this time of night.” A picture she must look, sneaking around in the courtyard, in hastily pulled on breeches, which, she was sure were on the wrong way and a crinkled sleeping shirt, the cold air leaving goosebumps on the back of her neck and down her shoulders. There's a half nod shared between them, one in thanks and one in respect, in welcome at giving information that was needed before she tiptoes off to the fading lights that illuminated the doorway leading to the soldier's quarters.
The door makes little sound as she pushes it open, but her eyes meet those of a weary, impossibly tired looking healer and... Solas. The healer slinks off a little while after, Cassandra having settled herself in the corner, beside one of the twins, their chest rising and falling lightly out of the corner of her eye. “I stumbled upon them in my sleep, the youngest one's yelling to loud for me to bear.” His hand ghosts over the one she presumes is Althrael's arm, fingers lingering at her wrist, his eyes sad but somehow hopeful and she wonders if for a second she had imagined the slight shake in his hand as it hovered, as it was gone as soon as her eyes graced upon it. “What..” Her voice is hoarse, quiet and barely audible to anyone else but herself, “Do we know..” It is not much louder, on the second try, but loud enough, it seems, as his orbs flicker to her, pulling him from his thoughts. “The healer has done well. There is enough heat in their bodies that they will survive, to what extent... At what point they will wake, I am not sure.” Her eyes glance to the recently lit fire on the other side of the room, the flames caressing the logs as they bite away at them, absently she wonders if either of them will ever be the same as they were before, not just from the world changing around them, but the effects of being out there for so long. They are competent, it has been what has gotten Fira through all of this – they know how to keep themselves warm, they know how to defend themselves, care for each other. A thought passes through her mind that chills her to her core. What if they don't know each other when they wake? What if they do not know Fira?
Her mouth moves before she has the sense to stop it, the thought burning in her mind, the heat of it becoming too much to bare on her own two shoulders. “Do you know if they will remember much, when they wake? Will their memory still serve them correctly?” His breath catches in his chest, and Cassandra's heart sinks at that, her hand absently reaching to rest on Oleander's wrist, quietly counting the thrumming beats of his heart against her fingers. “Amnesia is... common in patients who have been in a comatose state for... as long as they.” Solas' eyelids slide closed, as if he had failed to think of it, the dejected tone in his voice confirming her thought, his eyebrows furrowing as he kicks himself mentally.
Silence sits heavy between them as the night goes on, dawn rising with pale skies and a vague bustle of people waking, awaiting inspection from their commander. There are a few who pass by with sadness etched on their faces, some with a hopeful, pitiful look thrown the twins' way as they make their way to their post, or to the mess where warm food is there to fill their bellies. Cassandra feels sick at the thought of food, somewhere she imagines Solas feels quite the same. He shifts, and if she stretches her neck slightly she can see his fingers ghosting patterns across the soft skin on Althrael's wrist, somewhere alarm bells were ringing in her mind, the gesture seeming too affectionate, too intimate for just an unconscious patient and a healer. But he travels the fade, does he not? Does it not mean he could pry someone from their own dream, their own nightmare, give them the tools to get out? Her mind floats away with her as her heavy eyes pull her into a sleep of necessity, not want. The lingering thought of just how Fira was going to react to this situation a harsh reminder of what they had yet to endure. She does not know if.... Could her lover, could the Inquisitor, cope with this? Andraste give her the strength to get through.
pumpkkinpie replied to your post “pumpkkinpie replied to your post “i fucked u p i fuc k e d up”WHAT....”
But what's gonna happen now that you didn't do it?
idk what was supposed to happen, but there was a mini boss during the temple of mythal and the inquisiton captured him. thats how i got him. but. i should probably go back, right?
