#shieldtheself

[theharellan]

@shieldtheself asked: meta question! if solas could change classes, which would he choose? rogue, warrior, etc. which class specialization would he lean towards?

I could make the argument that Solas was likely not strictly mage class and that mage is, in a sense, the class he changed to.

In Elvhenan it would be a pretty non-existent class identifier given that everyone was a mage. Characters like Cole sort of demonstrate one way rogues may have worked in Elvhenan, as his ability to disappear and reappear is linked to the Fade (hence why the animation for his abilities like stealth differ) and arcane warriors/knight enchanters are obviously one demonstration of what warrior-mages could’ve been like in Elvhenan. Given they were sometimes seen with derision, having the derogatory term Ghilan'him banal'vhen, it’s likely they weren’t the only discipline of warrior-mages and that other more accepted sorts existed.

Pre-Veil I think Solas behaved somewhat rogue-like. The rebellion operated by disrupting the commonly accepted method of Elvhenan warfare, with battles being over and done with when they were once long affairs and being fought on their terms. In the myths where Fen’Harel appears he uses trickery and sleight of hand to escape, again employing tropes we’d typically associate with rogues. In banter with Bull the qunari remarks that Solas doesn’t draw much attention to him in a fight as Dorian and Vivienne do, which might imply that the nature of a warrior where a lot of your abilities revolve around yelling and drawing attention to yourself wouldn’t suit him.

I should also note that when he impersonates another class in Tevinter Nights it’s a bard he chooses, a rogue class. Which I actually think would be the class specialisation he leans towards, given his spirit tree abilities include a lot of support abilities. It’d marry his DPS and support talents nicely, and finally he can show everyone else in Inquisitoin what it’s like when people burst into songs you don’t know the words to.

[lt-wolfpack]

[ourdawncomes]

10 @ thora!

FIFTY KINDS OF KISSES | selectively accepting | @shieldtheself

10. A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

Sunlight spills into the Inquisitor’s quarters, glass doors that had been jammed tight to shut out the evening air now swing open. Thora greets the morning gladly, eyes closing to bask in the early light stealing over the Frostbacks. The breeze is nearly enough to send her shooting back to the safety of her sheets, but after a fortnight in Orzammar it just feels good to see the world rising with her. No matter the chill that comes with the sky.

“Enjoying the view?” comes a voice from behind. She cracks one eye open to glance over her shoulder, watching as Thom stirs reluctantly from his sleep. He pulls the covers with him as he sits up, shielding his bare skin from the naked air.

“Trying to,” she quips with a pointed look towards him. Her brow peaks, grin growing as the cover slips ever-so-slightly from his shoulders. “You’re not making it easy.”

Thom lets out a hearty laugh, smile brimming from beneath an uncombed beards. “You’re too generous with your flattery, my lady,” he says. “This old body’s seen better days.” As if to prove a point, he sits up, joints cracking in protest at the exercise. The covers draped around him provide a makeshift collar, the point meeting at the center of his chest where his hands clutch the edges to each other. Beneath their furs she sees the body she studies nightly by candlelight, marking the places that elicited pain or prompted pleasure— or sometimes both. The scars have different stories than they did before.

“I’d beg to differ,” she says. When he laughs again, he rumbles, a gentle sound that never fails to send a flurry of affection rushing through her. She turns her face away, cheeks heated by more than the mountain air. “I should get dressed,” she says reluctantly, one hand slipping from the door. The pile of papers on her desk looms taller than its true height, envelopes marked with her name and all the titles that come with it nowadays that needed her eyes on them. “Unless you can think of some reason to sleep in?”

“Several come to mind.” With the same reluctance he leaves the shelter of the sheets, reaching with bleary eyes for the clothes they’d heaped carelessly on the floor the night before, preparing for his walk of shame. He shakes his shirt by the neck until hers drops unceremoniously to the ground. “Some may even be worth the grief I’ll get if I’m the one to keep you.”

Her fingertips disguise the fond turn of her lips, but there’s no hiding the bemusement that dances behind dark eyes as she watches him dress. “You know, we really should consider moving some of your stuff up here.”

Thom stalls with his trousers mid-way up his thighs, a look of careful consideration arches his brow before he answers. “If you would allow it, my lady.”

“There’s room in my bed, why not my wardrobe?”

“Then it’s settled.” He rises, tapping the toes of one boot against the stone for good measure. “I’ll find you later.” She turns her cheek into his kiss, a soft hum of satisfaction serves as her good-bye.

It’s only when the door shuts behind him that the significance settles over her. Touching the lingering impression of his kiss with her unmarked hand, she asks herself when his good-byes had stopped feeling like tortured farewells. He presses them against her cheek like promises of their next meeting, and she doesn’t doubt him for an instant.

[whocanretell]

[ he recognized that sound from halfway across judicael's crossing. of course a dragon would choose an ancient colosseum for a den. thom shares a look with the inquisitor then up at bull. ] don't even think about it. [ to close rifts and root out red templars are their objectives. never mind his personal reservations, they needn't add provoking a dragon onto the list of today's plights. the weather itself is a hassle. bloody orlesians. ]

[the iron bull doesn’t grin so much as bare his teeth at thom in excitement as the dragon’s screech is followed, not by an echo, but by two other distinct higher-pitched screeches. his expression turns beatific as bull clasps his hands together, axe between them.] there’s three of them. [he practically vibrates as he rushes to the edge of the cliff to get a better look. when he turns back to the others, his eye shines like a child on their first birthday.] on the other side. [bull clasps his hands together, axe in between, as if blessing the ground with the pommel.] we’ll have to make it safe for the villagers and the soldiers. the two smaller ones should be enough to start. that way, they won’t compete for prey.

[chiefambassador-archive]

yearning prompts // accepting

“It reminded me of you.” @shieldtheself​​

Her eyes are focused on the necklace in her palm.  It is gold with antique plating and wields a single jewel in its centerpiece.  Josephine’s eyebrows knit together while she studies it.  Soon, the corners of her mouth lean up, and she lifts her head to look at Thom.

“How ever did you find this?” she asks, elated.  The craftsmanship is distinctly Antivan, and yet she knows that he has not been there in his travels with the Inquisitor.  For a moment, she falls speechless while shadows of memories cross her features.  She allows herself to bend to their whims for a time until she must look at him again. 

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, the depth of her gratitude immeasurable.  Only a second’s delay holds her at bay before she turns her back to him and glances almost invitingly over one shoulder.

“Will you please help me put it on, my lord?”

[romanaofheartshaven]

"your vote of confidence is overwhelming."

“--- --- I’m gratified you think so.” Sarcasm begets sarcasm.  “Is there anything in particular I can help you with?  I’m a tad busy at the moment.”  And she was.  Sonic pen in hand she was crouched beneath the TARDIS console, goggles pressed up her forehead looking a little worse for wear.  “That is, unless you’d prefer to float aimlessly in deep space for the next few millennia?” 

[divinesleft-a]

@shieldtheself​ said: [ stroke ] ! non-sexual acts of affection accepting!

     she hadn’t thought it was possible to sink this LOW again. 

and it’s due to circumstance that she finds herself in the barn - she had been WANDERING the grounds of skyhold far too late for her own good, and found herself comforted by the warm light inside the barn. 

she hadn’t expected the comfort that was to be found in the company of its inhabitant, however. but leliana finds herself unable to stop herself from expressing JUST how tiring this has become. 

then a hand rests upon her back, and it feels like a SUPPORT she hasn’t felt in years. a support that she finds herself sinking into. 

“you are a good man, blackwall.”

[fawnslay]

“leliana told me a GREY WARDEN had joined the fray,” shoulder rests against the rough-hewn doorframe of the barn and greer idly sets to work slicing a hunk off of the apple in her hand with a sharp dagger that glistens silver in the warm, setting sun light that slants over the top of skyhold’s tall walls. she regards him with a smile and steady eyes that flicker over the man. HUH.

“for all your oaths about staying OUT of politics, my experience has been quite the opposite.” she half-expects something about how THIS ISN’T POLITICAL, IT’S ABOUT SAVING THE WORLD ; for all she detests the way teryns and queens bicker and fiddle with their maps, even she cannot deny the fact that the inquisition is something of a political faction, views molded by the herald. an interesting figure. NEARLY as interesting as the warden before her. greer must admit to being BIASED in favor of taking a vested interest in those who wear blue-and-silver.

     @shieldtheself​