#trevelyanborn

[nyf-archive]

     guess who made a bias page? yeah. cause i needed another page. pfft. anyways! give these babes some love!!! <3 <3

[markburdened-a-blog]

      nothing in this world brought her more pain than the thought of HOME. she was brought up to be prideful of her blood, for there should be NOTHING more important to her than the love of her family. she missed her family DEARLY but did they miss her? it never really felt that way to her, not in the circle. there was no pride or love to be found in the circle. which is why evee could translate her mixed emotions into words now as she was greeted by a vaguely familiar face. one she hadn’t seen in years.

      ‘ ...cousin? ‘

                           @trevelyanborn  ||  starter call!

[warwcn]

@trevelyanborn || Liked for a starter! || Hawke

     There was always noise when she moved, the only noise she wasn’t given being that of her footsteps falling on the tiles of Skyhold. Sharp greens glance around before she moved to a darker corner to slip in by Josephine and the War Room. She’d heard that the Inquisitor was in a meeting in there, so best she could do for now was to wait for him to exit the meeting. There was no hiding but the advisers likely saw her settled there when she passed, a small smile offered to Cullen before he continued to head off to wherever it was that he was hiding away at. “Inquisitor..” Her words were spoken quietly, glancing to the side for a moment. “Do you have a moment...?”

[hawkeblooded-blog]

@trevelyanborn

How Varric managed to smuggle one Fereldan’s most sought-after mages into Skyhold, under Rutherford’s keen watch, she would never know. Perhaps a slip of coin here, a dance of a silver-tongue there. The dwarf was always one step ahead of those around him, even while pressed under the thumb of his Nevarran jailer. Something told her when she met the woman, sparks would fly. Not necessarily good ones, either.

Skyhold’s imposing silhouette reminded her somewhat of the Gallows with its white stone peaks, yet it resonated with ancient energy. Any mage would be able to sense a long-forgotten tale hidden within its walls, perhaps even a templar. One could only hope the story of this place was not founded upon the backs of others, as Kirkwall had once been. Thoughts of home left a melancholy taste on Hawke’s tongue. Ten years had come and gone since she had last seen it, and yet the world seemed to remain in a constant state of chaos. That was why Varric reached out to her. Another staff, another voice to assess the situation and influence the masses. History once again drew upon its reluctant heroes, this time the threat was personal. She vowed to return the Magister to his grave, permanently.

Varric’s fond introduction finally broke the mage from her wall of thoughts, spine straightening as she descended steps to finally meet the fabled Herald of Andraste. The years were not kind to Mother, I now understand why she greyed so early. Strands of silver wove themselves into the mass of curls she kept tightly pinned atop her head, the occasional piece slipping free. Her gaze swept to the significantly taller man, piqued with a mix of curiosity and understanding. Young, thrown head-first (literally) into a title that would eventually define him, whether he liked it or not. Hopefully he would use it well, not squander it for fame or riches. Maintain his sense of duty, instead of descending into a red madness that would leave behind nothing but the echoes of a tortured scream. It made her shiver unconsciously, such thoughts creeping up unexpectedly. Her voice, timid but firm, spoke in spite of the fleeting memory.

“Varric, you know I no longer go by that title..You’re the Herald, if I’m not mistaken? The secrecy, you hopefully understand. After what they did..we had to be certain something similar woudln’t occur. Varric is much more compliant than I..”

[magnificarum-blog]

@trevelyanborn

“I heard that Cassandra was rather displeased to hear about my survival. Y’know, in ways that I thought only the Divine would be pissed off about. Hopefully none of that anger has turned itself towards you.”

[guiltsworn-a]

🚪 ( hope you don't mind me sending )

door meme  ╱ 24: covered in blood ( someone else’s )

            this is not a fun experience, and not one vic had ever expected himself to have. he carries himself slowly up the stairs of skyhold, a ruffled mess with blood spattered across his coat and leathers ⏤ but no visible wounds besides cuts and scrapes. the hilts of his sheathed daggers appear bloodied too, a hint that the blood covering him is not his own. there’s a shake to his hands, moreso than usual, a subtle tremble to his entire presence. for all the past robberies he’s carried out with knives involved, he never intended for them to go further than mere threats. outright hurting others isn’t for him. so even now, having acted out of self-defense, he’s unnerved. it was necessary, a reaction to an attack that clearly would have ended in his death ; yet he hopes the perpetrator will live, for some reason.

           he opens the doors to skyhold slowly, blood transferring from hand to handle, and his eyes search the main hall for any sign of the inquisitor. when maxwell is spotted, vic nods at him lowly and approaches, exhaustion written on his face. ❝hey. tonight’s, er⏤❞a hand raises to scratch the back of his head, a force of habit, prompting him to frown once he realizes he’s likely getting blood in his hair. even better. ❝tonight’s scouting mission went … great, clearly. ⏤ i’m okay, but … well. i think everything’s clear now, anyways. ❞

[nyf-archive]

✣ : )

✣ — for a sad kiss

He hates to see him this way. He’s in such pain, such suffering, and there’s nothing he can do but be close to him. The mage has long since hidden the letter that was sent to him, not wanting him to see it anymore, for he knew that if it were within reach, he would read it over and over again and do nothing but put himself into a deeper, darker abyss of sadness than he is already in. 

He hasn’t left their room...not in almost a week. Dorian has done his best to get him out of this state, to try and do anything to make him better, but he fears that he is out of things to do, to say, to do anything in his power to get him over this loss in his life. 

The altus settles himself in Max’s lap, this time. His knees are on either side of his hips, his right hand at the nape of his neck, the other against his temple, fingers delving into deep, dark trusses as he guides his head to look up at him. He sits himself back and against his lap, and for a long moment, Dorian just looks him over. His thumb strokes gently along those deliciously high cheekbones and wishes him to look at him, to pay attention to him instead of the darkness in his mind.

Dorian leans down and gently takes his lips in a kiss; it is slow and sensual, hoping to distract him, if only for this moment. He aches to see him smile again...and if sharing in small, sad kisses was what it took, then so be it.

[nyf-archive]

💕 okay but years later, fincullen w/ a bab on the way. max gets to be an uncle ! it's a surprise !

Cullen didn’t like to travel by Eluvian, the weird magic and the realms that they lead to freaked him out just a smidge. But, it was the fastest way to get from Skyhold to Tevinter without causing a scene. It was also the best way not to be found by slavers who lurked around every corner. With her cloak tied around her shoulders and it keeping her covered, she lift a hand and activated the mirror, and with her other hand clutching Cullen’s, he pulled him through and into the realm beyond. Her blue orbs found that of the marked eluvian, a portrait she had done of a horse and a peacock drawn just before the entrance of the mirror. 

She looked back up to her husband who was noticeably antsy to leave this place, and as she spoke the activating words, did the Eluvian leading to Max and Dorian’s estate opened. Stepping through, the elvhen woman let out a small sigh and looked around.

“Sumus in domum suam!” Fin called out with a light smile, her tevenae growing better and better every day she used it. She could hear the familiar laughter from Dorian as it emitted from the study, the Magister was quick to his feet and running around the corner, practically running towards his best friend as he heard her sing song voice. 

“Carissime! How lovely for you to be here!” He grinned as he took her into his arms, carefully, though, as she slowed him from his delighted quickness. He raised a brow curiously, and she revealed the ever-growing bump just below the cloak. A look of shock came over his features and his hands flew to his cheeks. “Are you serious?!” He said with an excited sound. Finduilas just nodded her head and rubbed the small bump before hiding it away again within her cloak and gave him a sign to stay hush about it. He nodded his head with a bit of a giddy grin before he cleared his throat.

“Oh, amatus, we have a special guest!” He called out. “Stop sharpening your daggers and get out here!”