#revivical

[bornpariah-a]

        It’s not often that Dorian deigns to go up the tower ——— his level is the second and it’s a necessity to descend ( and share a passing glance with solas ) in order to reach the rest of Skyhold, lest he wishes to go an entirely circuitous route. Up above, however, is not his domain nor domain that anyone can walk : such belongs to the SPYMASTER, accompanied by her birds and spies which are, it seems at times, one in the same. Several perch at his window on the daily, watching him through the glass / hopping through when he allows mountain air to drift in. there’s little of interest here, he says to them, but feel free to carry a page back to her ——— i’m not certain even she could decipher it.

        But, hark !! He ascends, a letter in hand, perfectly folded, the seal broken that he peruses for what may be the fifth or eighth time. It’s not often that he deigns to go up the tower and thus his business with Sister Nightingale is, to say the least, rather truncate, but if nothing else he knows precisely where to find her.

        Eyes follow him as he curls up the path, walking directly over to her and her table and the shrine in the corner, candlelit and tucked away. A raven crows and he glances at it / hears a responding shout from beyond the Veil / ignores the whole of it. ❝ I have some information that might interest you, Spymaster, ❞ her title falls easily and naturally from his mouth ——— nearly as polite as he gets. Distant, as well, glancing up at her, wrist tilting as if to say look here, this paper flowing in the breeze.

@revivical // you’re burning , you know : incendiary. ( for leliana )

[antichant]

she licks remnants of magic off of her lips, ozone and bitter, skin trembling beneath the weight and press and expanse of magic that pulls, demanding, at her. above them the moon is full and waxy ——— as if it were about to crack ( she remembers, as a girl, she had feared such a thing nonsensically, had loved the moon so much ) and her gaze lingers / departs. settles on him, instead, the man who had earned her trust, though whether or not he knows that she doesn’t dare guess.

upon her palm she could trace the path that led them here. beginning at the base of her pointer finger, a lulling thing, curving and without desire nor design, a harsh crossing and then / a steady drift up before / a steep decline, not quite following the valleys of her skin. settling, hesitant and nauseating, at the swell of her thumb. and he’s been there that whole time.

duty? guilt? ——— no, she doesn’t know.

❝ you don’t want to be king, ❞ she says without prompting, eyes overbright in the light of the moon, her voice a modulation of LEADERSHIP, weighty and purposeful. she’s trying. she’s trying. she will become / has become / will lead him, if that’s what he wishes. he would be a bad king, she thinks, and tucks that thought behind her heart.

@revivical​ // i have been digging, dirt beneath my nails, searching for ——— you? not you. another you. this you. look at me, let that smile split your face, dirt on your teeth. ( for alistair )

[antichant]

though she is no young girl any longer she feels her heart begin to quicken as if she had been transported to ten years prior, her steps easy and measured across the narrow sill that she has found herself upon. in spite of everything, happiness begins to coil around her throat as she steals into the window, perching upon it and ———

her heart sighs, rapturous bliss overtaking her.

the magic of this place sighs with her. ❝ hello, my love, ❞ she speaks !! voice quiet and measured as it often is / as she feels her heart tumble as it had the first time leliana had smiled at her truly. she’s smiling, pulse thudding against her throat, every line of her body murmuring heart—fully i missed you i missed you i missed you.

@revivical // i have whispered your name to the oceans in hopes that the wind would carry me to you. ( for leliana )

[bornpariah-a]

Time has slipped / doesn’t it always? He’s lost track of it, lost the thread, it has passed and when had the sun set? Long ago, he can only presume, gazing outside of the window of his alcove for the first time in what could be DAYS or mere HOURS, peering up at the moons above. Barely visible from this vantage point, meaning that it’s late, though that’s rather obvious given the relative quiet of the tower, silence broken by the caws of the ravens up above. The tea at his elbow has long gone cold. His shoulders roll, muscles pulling and his head tilting from side to side, tension sighing just beneath the surface of his skin.

His stomach cramps and he sighs, lamenting the fact that it appears that he’s forgotten to eat dinner ( felix would have his head, were he present ) as he stands from his chair, spine straightening and the books drifting around him settle upon the ground, stacking themselves oh so neatly, papers joining them on top. Dorian pushes his hair back as he casts his gaze about the area and ——— ah, yes. There she is.

He had somewhat forgotten that he had company, though he presumes that she, too, had forgotten that he was sitting no more than several paces from where she had seated herself at some point in the late afternoon ( if memory serves, and it always serves ) announcing that she was going to be doing research.

❝ ——— Inquisitor, ❞ his voice cuts through the night as he steps between stacks of books, absently patting the one at his hip to ensure that it remained, before his head tilted as he attempted, perhaps in vain, to catch her attention. ❝ Unless you slipped away sometime in the evening without my notice, it seems we’re rather tardy for dinner, ❞ by several hours, it’s a wonder no one came looking for her. ❝ Shall we make for the kitchens? I’d rather not be the one to explain to Josephine why the Herald of Andraste has wasted away over her studies under my watch. ❞

@revivical // idiots forget to eat in favor of research, more news at 12 ( for ellana )