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"a prince who can sway a whole city" caption in the photoset you reblogged i thought it was referring to his swagger walk omg

( i mean. i’m sure thats like. 90% of the reason tbh )

#( OOC; )#( OHMYGOD... )#rxghthand

aesthetic: feathered albatross 'round his neck, his body heavy with the burden of chainmail and secrets. his hands are worn and his cheeks sunburnt red, crows feathering the corners of his ice-chip eyes. there was a sister once, hair raven-wing glossy as the locks that tumble messy onto his shoulders, but now there is no one. not even blackwall.

Aesthetic (for Cassandra)–

Starched, weighty fabrics in dark colors, brass fixtures lit by candle flame. Arched, domed ceilings with prickling spires like the pointed horns and tails of great beasts, the kind that once stained the blade of a brother. Cold metals, browned skin–the laughter of onlookers when even Qunari are sundered and a voice edging on rasp, tongue thickened with a land far away. Burdens banished with divine levity, muscles worn from refinement. Sunrise. Sunsets. Complex peace. Regret and sorrow held at bay with faith and purpose–an arm whose sockets only ache when not in use.

#rxghthand #I'm really no good at these #but man yours was damn beautiful #answered ask #aesthetic meme #saved

#ooc #tbd #you should all know that blackwall in a bear kigu is the one thing I want more than anything in the world #rxghthand #and I once sat down and tried to put everyone in the inquisition in a kigu #the kiguquisition #it's amazing #dash commentary

rxghthand said: murmurs orlesian ball at you when i have time to write paras again

:// Oh gosh - yes please check these out

#since u been gone plays in the distance #rxghthand #s nuggles the susie #outofelves

"Do the dead frighten you, Vivienne?"

( it is the sound of her name thatdraws her attention. the sound of it, nearly a comfort. ) ‘i have seen too much to be frightened by the apparitions of a ghostly past, my dear. ’ and yet. yet. her gaze is tumultuous,yes, buried there under temperance,gilded grace;; the hardened bells ofof her laughter, or more precise a chuckle, there is caution. apprehensiveness,of those who linger in spirit, those whocling to earthly vices. their voices ahowl that batters on the breeze. of course, her reservations are tuckedfar, far up her sleeve, face schooled,implacable to the sudden, inexplicable unease that steadily creeps into her bones. ( let the dead be dead, let themnot linger in this place she has madeat last, her own. )

‘ the dead can do no harm to us, here. ’

#rxghthand #mes lettres;#[ in a metaphorical sense or ???? ]#[ the world may never know ]