#years later....

[synthmama]

@puazo || random dialogue starters.

"Alright. It's done. Might want to hold onto something... Closing your eyes might help too."

[synthmama]

@theharellan​ || from here.

“One of the benefits of not requiring sustenance,” he responds, voice humming with his processing hardware.

It is late when she finally arrives, the night sky’s stars swallowed by city lights hours ago. Streetlamps cast orange reflections in the puddles from that evening’s rain. “You are a remarkably difficult woman to find,” Solas says, inclining his head towards her. The hollow eyes in his faceplate never leave her shadow. Someone does not vanish for five years without becoming particularlygood at running. “I was not about to risk losing you.”

She is not what he expected, but then whenever he thinks of Omnica employees there is a faceless quality to them, as though his mind resists the human faces of his creators– or rather, his creators’ creator.

“I mean no harm, only to ask questions. Questions I have been led to believe you would have answers to.”

There’s a flanged, tinny quality to his voice, able to coast over the sharp whip of winds from December chill, able to make itself heard. Quinn remains stock-still, and the only sign of movement is the bluster of her scarf, and the crunch of snow beneath her boots as she shifts. There have always been attempts – by omnics, by others – to find her. To understand if she was the purported martyr that shed light on the atrocities of Omnica Corp and nearly died for it, or if she was just as monstrous as the board itself.

“Sweet of you,” Quinn comments. Her eyes study the surroundings. Blackwatch training bleeds into the gaps of the situation, pointing her in the direction of where to go next in the brief moment of aimlessness. Her mouth curves upwards, conveying slyness; paired with a sharp slant to her stare. “But you know the saying – can’t lose what you never had.”

If her response seems confrontational, ornery, it is with reason.

“… Just questions. No more, no less.” A step back, and then – her hand beckons from over the shoulder, before she turns to make her way to the latest safehouse she’d been holed up in. “If you want to ask, we’ll take it inside. I haven’t had my morning coffee.”  

[supafrootee]

finally watching promare

[thebrazenandbold]

// I hate that my appreciation for Kansas songs will always be slightly tainted by S/PN

[synthmama]

@nullbloom from: here.

                         ❛  my  whole  body  is  a  sore  spot,  ❜  the voidwalker mumbles with a shake of her head, a small laugh drifts from her lips but it’s short-lived as quinn’s hand travels to a particularly bruised area. a sharp inhale followed by the faintest shudder. it hurts, but it’s not unbearable. scuro mutters something about how nico had been an idiot for literally running at the giant knight during the hunted.  ❛  it  was  absolutely  worth  it,  ❜  nico breathes, a faint smirk tugging at her lips,  ❛  you  know  you  kind  of  glow  when  you  devour  things?  it’s badass,  but  also  makes  you  kinda  visible  to  the  enemies.  ❜

“Maybe that’s the point. If they’re looking at me, they won’t see you coming.” The properties of light are like beings all their own. A warlock can channel it to heal as any other, but there are differences. Solar is a warm wash; refreshing and restoring in its heat. Arc feels like a crackling shell, frenetically stitching the wounds back together, putting one to rights. But with the void, it feels as if something from the other side pours itself to restore. <Drink deep, and yearn for the next fight, Dear Wanderer>. Quinn watches Nico carefully; hand wreathed in violet light.

                                                     “Anywhere else?”