#witchofthcwilds

[zevran-theblackshadow]

Bonds That Break

@witchofthcwilds​

He stood before the memorial built for the Hero of Ferelden, carved and sculpted by hands that never knew him. A Griffon--how blasé, Zevran thought--and the words of the legendary Wardens engraved into the stone.

In War, Victory.

In Peace, Vigilance.

In Death, Sacrifice.

But did they know the man this statue was built for once left kisses sweet like caramels upon the tongue? Did they know the Hero Cousland stood tall against any demon--rage, desire, sloth--and yet cowered from dipping his toes into the frozen waters of Lake Calenhad? Did they know Asher Cousland was more than just a legend? That he was a man before he was a hero?

Did they care?

The Hero of Ferelden, the Grey Warden who ended the Fifth Blight had been real. And Asher had been his.

“After all these years, mi amour...” The elf mused as bronze fingertips followed the delicate swirl of the “s” in sacrifice, a forlorn smile tugging on lips that certainly felt no joy. “The Wild Witch decides to come .”

Ominous was the air that trailed behind the beauty of the Korcari Wilds, magic spun from hands that men would fall to their knees to worship. Slowly the Crow defector turned towards his old companion, studying the face of the shape-shifter with optics as sharp as the daggers he carried.

“You are as stunning as ever, my dear Morrigan. But I wonder what could have possibly lured you from obscurity? Certainly, it is not to see me.”

[apostateofsass]

Give me all the K.

I want the K: not accepting

17: Goofy Kiss

          “You actually wore this?”

The grandiose descent down the stairs into Skyhold’s garden fell a little flatter than Hawke anticipated, breathless as she was from the bone corset constricting her organs. The shoes were one slip away from sending the Champion careening down the stone to break her neck. And having a hoop within a skirt was asinine. Hawke had to kick hard just to take a step forward.

          “Twould seem you’ve no regard                for my personal effects. I’ve no                love for that life but I would mind                if you should blemish the garment                with blood. Tis obvious you are                fond of smearing it on yourself.”

With a hand over her heart, Hawke sighed over dramatically and stumbled forward as if physically wounded by Morrigan’s scathing remark. Hard to say if she perfected the art of insults during her time at court or simply possessed the gift all along. Probably a mixture of both. Taking up position next to the arcane advisor, Hawke leaned against the wall in Morrigan’s court attire, the Champion wholly unperturbed by how ridiculous she now looked.

          “You forget I am friends with Varric,               whose exact words were, and I quote,               ‘I would pay five sovereigns to see that.’” 

A dry chuckle was her only reward, but Hawke flashed a grin nonetheless, sidling ever closer as if part of the courtyard’s ivy snaking towards the sun. Morrigan turned her cheek, paying the other’s antics no mind until Hawke deftly dipped the other woman into a kiss for all present in the garden to see.  

          “Or do you prefer to be the one swept off your feet?”

[onthesirenscall-blog]

I also want the K. No shame.

<Random Kisses> | 5. Firm Kiss

    Of course the dwarf bet her she wouldn’t. She had to prove him wrong. She had heard about the mage, Varric had stories. But it was a dare and she couldn’t back down. The pirate would stroll right up to the woman, looking her dead in the eye. She would place her hands on Morrigan’s arms (mostly to prevent the inevitable strangling that was going to occur) to hold them steady, and would suddenly pull her in, pressing their lips together for a good few seconds. She pulled away with a satisfied sigh, then suddenly realizing that she was still staring down a presumably angry Morrigan. It was hard to tell what she was feeling. “Um...Itwasadaregottogobye!” Her words mashed together as she explained and turned to begin to flee for her life.

[heraldoflavellanarchive]

witchofthcwilds

“Do you want to explain that to me one more time?” 

[usuledinnadas]

@witchofthcwilds

First, Myrrha wanted to gripe about Morrigan’s presence being forced upon her. Then she intended to demand what the large ominous artifact transported to Skyhold was, but when she found the apostate in the garden the first words tumbled out, unfiltered.

          “--Aren’t you cold?”

[idiedinthedark-blog]

@witchofthcwilds started following you

“Is Kieran a spirit? I...I can’t see him...he’s...too bright...” [squints uncertainly at her from under the brim of his hat]

[thewardcn]

@witchofthcwilds

“How are you traveling in our company, Morrigan? I hope the others have not made you feel too unwelcome, have they?”

[sneakystabstab]

to catch a crow

The halls of the Winter Palace turned from luxurious to haunting as the lanterns were put out and a hush fell over the castle. Whatever deeds were being carried out in the dark of night were done so with discretion. Much like what he was doing now, feeling somewhat amateurish roaming the plushly carpeted corridors in a stolen servant's uniform. Were he discovered by the wrong person, it wouldn't be hard to surmise that he wasn't supposed to be here. Scaling the vast walls to creep into a window wasn't his entrance of choice, however, and he was running out of time.

He made his way to the rooms in the upper levels. With a dagger tucked into his trousers, he'd hoped the servants uniform wouldn't be necessary. Avoiding crossing paths with the guards was easy enough. Their patrols were predictable, and the soft flooring muffled his footsteps in the shadows. He saw the map in his mind, counting turns and checking landmarks as soon as his eyes adjusted.

Then, rounding a corner, he almost ran into another servant in the dim light, judging from her clothing. Black hair pulled into a tight bun, she took a step back and parted her lips to apologize before she drew her eyebrows together in suspicion. Her voice came out just above a murmur. "I don’t think I’ve seen you before."

Zevran played dumb, widening his eyes and feigning innocence. "Marin, ma'am."

"Is that so?" She put hands on her hips. "Well, 'Marin,' you best tell me what you're doing in the guest wing before I call the guards."

He flinched. "Please, ma'am. I was summoned at the Baron's request."

"I already sent Gigi for that."

"Ah, well then," he dropped the Orlesian accent and let his Antivan lilt emerge, "there goes that plan."

She only had time to take in the air to scream, before his hand went over her mouth and he dragged her into a side corridor, pressed against a shadowed wall before footsteps headed toward their hiding spot. She struggled, trying to elbow him, pull his hair, anything to get him to let go or alert someone to their presence.

He pressed lips to her ear. "I truly do not want to kill you, my lady, but if you continue as you are then I'm afraid I will have no other choice."

Almost immediately, she stopped, whimpering beneath the clamp of his hand. She grasped his arm, as if it might keep him from drawing a blade on her. He held his breath as the footsteps neared.