#stonecarved

[grandboute]

Tête en l'air #felin #stoneCarved #lionness #feline #lionne #felinPourLautre #leNezEnLair #enFlanant #dessusDePorte #porte #pasDePorte #peuUnePorte #instaporte #nainPorteQuoi #door #instadoor #heinjtadore https://www.instagram.com/p/CV5YuhGsVHg/?utm_medium=tumblr

[stolenmagi]

first meetings - with @stonecarved

Rosal stirs in his bed, too weak by far to rise from his cot to rejoin the living. Fever burns on his skin, and when he opens his bleary eyes, the world around him swims. Candlelight feels bright as day in the chamber he’s been placed in. There is a figure by his bedside, wearing a gently-concerned expression in no-nonsense manner; honey-blond hair pulled from a pale round face. 

“... Anders?” he musters, but his voice is dry, barely a croak. His friend’s name falls from his lips, weary and cracked by disuse, and quite probably dehydration. 

It occurs to him, then, that he may be hallucinating. Did he die, and this is but the afterlife, beyond the Fade? Was Anders dead too, or merely a spirit? A jolt of panic lances through him, enough to bring him half-upright, but just as fast, he realizes the pain, burning in his side as hot and ruthless as a brand. He’d never imagined pain to be a part of death, much less to this vast degree, in a wave, set to drown him under the current. His shoulder, arm, and torso serve as the epicenter of it, and his previous recollections of consciousness return to him. 

He realizes that not only is he quite alive, he is quite injured to boot. The last he remembers, he had reached the road. What road, exactly, he isn’t sure, and who found him there, he couldn’t say. But there had been the remnants of a band of roving Darkspawn for this Thaw hot on his heels. Perhaps they’d begun considering him a meal when whoever pulled him out of there managed it.

The wounded mage sinks down into the bed, head foggy with pain and discomfort, but he manages to settle into a relatively comfortable position on his opposite side. A soft grunt leaves him as he does. 

This room smells astringent, sterile... an infirmary? It would make sense for Anders to be there. But also... he’s not seen the man in nigh on a year, just to find him in an infirmary saving his life? Sounds... odd. When Rosal glances up again, it occurs to him that this figure is far shorter than Anders ought to be, and he swallows down another pang of discomfort... this is not him. In fact, to make things one step worse, he notices the figure seems to be dressed a warrior. And not just any... a woman. He chews at his lip. Perhaps he weren’t hallucinating quite as much as he thought, but perhaps also it was just wishful thinking. 

“I must have... thought you were someone else. M... my apologies. A-are you the one who... who saved my life?”

[a-byronic-heroine]

@stonecarved asked: “ the harder you fight against the paths life puts you on, the steeper the climb becomes, the worse the falls. ”

Kly had only been in the Warden’s company for a few days after literally crashing into their encampment one evening, likely looking wide eyed and feral as any darkspawn. Warden Aeducan had been kind enough to let her trail along for the time being, though Kly was unsure she’d remain what with a templar present and the Warden's intentions to travel to Kinloch. Kly swore she'd never go near that hellish prison again. She was primarily a healer, anyway, not any sort of decent fighter. She could defend herself easily enough, but that wasn’t where most of her expertise was, and she had no interest in joining the Wardens in their Blight quest. No, her eyes were on revenge. On slowly peeling Rendon fucking Howe out of his skin, keeping him alive as she boiled his blood in his veins for what he did to her family.

She looked over at the dwarven warden as she spoke. “Surely you understand that some of us simply can’t roll over and submit to what life gives us. It is fighting against our life-given path or death.”

[swapnil1690]

✨💫Happy Deepawali everyone! 💖🙏🏽 Hope you always chose good in you over evil, and shine through in your darkest nights...these two beautiful Ganpatis one wood inlaid and another made in stone at Kesargarh, Rajasthan Patrika office in their main lobby here in Jaipur. #Heritage #Art #Sculpture #Historic #Beaut #Beautiful #HandCarved #StoneCarved #WoodInlay #Ganpati #Ganesha #Diwali #HappyDiwali #Deepawali #Lights #LightOverDarkness #GoodOverEvil #Always #Kesargarh #RajasthanPatrika #Jaipur #JaipurDiaries #JaipurJournal #Rajasthan #India #Wanderer #Wanderlust #Travel #Travelogue #TravelDiaries

[swapnil1690]

This is what defacing heritage looks like. This elaborately carved dome over Lakshminath Ji temple in Bundi is truly spectacular, but the unplanned three coloured coating of synthetic paint is what I am truly against. #DefacingHeritage #Historic #Temple #TempleAesthetic #Art #Architecture #StoneCarved #Sculpted #StoneSculpture #Bundi #BundiDiaries #BundiJournal #Rajasthan #India #Wanderer #Wanderlust #Travel #Travelogue #Traveler #TravelDiaries

[saviornot]

@stonecarved​ | plotted starter

Call it luck or coincidence that she had appeared seemingly in an instant, neither of those words could explain Adamant’s mess and its horde of demons. Cutting through bewitched Warden mages was no small task, though the still intact warriors withdrew from the battle upon seeing Ferelden’s Warden-Commander right next to him and his companions. No doubt relieved at the blood not spilled, Stroud urged them to press on, and Eron wasn’t going to argue otherwise.

Whether it was Clarel’s sole doing or her blatant disregard for the consequences and lives, or even Erimond’s manipulation that led the Orlesian Wardens to this point, it wasn’t so simple as to shake her off her plan even as he stormed forward and yelled. And Clarel sure as hell was a stubborn one. Patience running thin, Eron turned to Sereda, brows furrowed. “She won’t listen to me. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

( Sera ; sc )

       𝐈𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. How in heroic glory and with confidence, the Warden and her companions’ journey started ever since King Calan’s death on the battlefield, an event Sera never saw. How the Warden attacked the Darkspawn in her home city of Denerim, swords in hand, bows at the ready, all prepared to strike down the Archdemon at the roof of Fort Drakon. Varric explained the tale with much more zest, one only a writer could do (or a habitual liar with a storyteller’s tongue, could be both).

       Now the Warden was at Skyhold, something Sera never would wish for, but wouldn’t outright dismiss either. She saw as many archdemons as Sera did, fought the same amount as her, too.

       She thought the Warden would be a tad taller though…

       ❝ Wardy, bet you ten silver coins I can stab an archdemon with my arrows quicker than your blade. ❞

@stonecarved​​