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Today's Document
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
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@theialen
affiliated with : @thedasfm .
"I just wanna be spoiled so bad" <- girl that proceeds to describe having access to necesities and having her most basic needs met as luxurious and the desire for that as greedy and punishment worthy
CHARADE 1963 | dir. Stanley Donen
𝐖𝐇𝐎: vaelen aravelle, closed to @veilwhcsper 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: val royeaux, the university of orlais, library 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: all soul's day, 9:41 dragon, just before sunset
"𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝚃𝚆𝙾 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚁 — " he's worked up into a frenzy, practically foaming at the mouth as he shoves another heavy tome across the table to saretha. "directly contradicts mareno's findings!" vaelen runs a long-fingered hand through untidy hair. he had styled it for the day, to try and be respectful in observance, but with the day of remembrance coming to an end outside the walls of the university, he's too absorbed in research to keep the sweat and finger oils out of too-long tawny locks any longer. they leave for skyhold first thing in the morning, but vaelen and saretha couldn't miss the opportunity to take advantage of orlais's fine resources, so they — snuck away just after dinner. "i still don't understand any of this, and i'm starting to wonder how much i actually — want to." he pushes back from the table somewhat. even he's overwhelmed by the study of fade and rift magic. "leave this to solas, go back to — mending minds."
CASABLANCA (1942) Directed by Michael Curtiz
Zevran expected rudeness in a Chantry, that of course was where the most rude of all people, chantry mothers, generally were. He wasn't expecting the rudeness to be quite so sudden. He's stood there still holding out the unlit candle to Vaelen. There was something about this human that was familiar but Zevran couldn't put his finger on it at this present moment. "You don't want..." He looked down at the candle wondering what was wrong with it. It was a perfectly good candle all things considered. He looked at the other ones half burnt that had already dripped wax on to the marble. They looked pretty much the same to Zevran. Then he caught his reflection on the polished surface of the statue, he always forgot about the pointed ears. How silly of him. He was once again walking around as if he were just Antivan. Just human.
"Ah I see. I am still holding it yes. Don't worry, I will set it down and then you do not have to take it from me, the elf, yes." He nods setting the candle down for Vaelen. That was obviously the issue. Humans sometimes acted funny when elves offered them something. Maybe he should have gone to see the Dalish with Solas after all. He glanced at two of his candles placed side by side. Taliesen and Rinna were possibly the only people to have ever treated him as an equal. Not even the Dalish had done that.
"But if you really do not want it I have one person left I can light for."
⋰⏆◝ノ 𝕍𝔸𝔼𝕃𝔼ℕ 𝔸ℝ𝔸𝕍𝔼𝕃𝕃𝔼 ⤐ zevran aranai .
𝙷𝙴'𝚂 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴𝙻𝚈 𝙻𝙾𝚂𝚃 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳𝚂. 𝙰 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙻𝚈 rare event, and not the first time zevran himself has elicited this reaction from vaelen. "you think i'm being — what? no!" the accusation truly wounds him, and his denial is a little louder and more animated than he should be speaking in a chantry. there are stares. vaelen turns a lovely shade of crimson, livid and steaming. he averts his gaze, can't meet zevran's eyes. lips tight and drawn, he tries desperately to summon composure before he speaks again. how do you inform someone who has no idea who you are that you're not being racist, you're just horrified because they've bedded your mother? frequently? and you walked in on them once? "i — " nope. slender, veiny hands close into white-knuckled fists. he closes his mouth and tries again. "you — " vaelen closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in — and lets out one sharp huff. "my name is vaelen aravelle," he says pointedly. "we've — met." this day is already going so, so much worse than he could have ever possibly imagined. "maybe you — recall." the implication that vaelen wouldn't want to accidentally touch zevran's hand is — truly, amusing on so many levels. situation as — revolting as it is, even vaelen can't help but see how undeniably attractive zevran is. he has a hard time imagining even the most elf-hating orlesian taking such a strong stance against zevran.
Lark let out a soft, amused breath at that, cradling his mug like it was doing him a personal favor. “You say that now,” he replied, glancing up at the sky as if reconsidering the Maker’s early-morning judgment, “but I’m fairly certain the Maker and I are still negotiating terms before sunrise.” He took another cautious sip, winced again, then shrugged. “Still worth it. I think this coffee could wake the dead. Or at least threaten them into consciousness.” At her comment about expectations, he snorted quietly. “Trust me, mine are rock-bottom. Anything warm that isn’t trying to poison me outright counts as a success.” He shifted a little closer to the fire, stretching his legs out with a sigh that sounded like it came from somewhere deep in his bones. “And yeah, I get that. People hear ‘healer’ and suddenly assume you’ve got soup recipes memorized and endless patience.” A crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “For what it’s worth, I don’t need a mother. Just someone who won’t let me starve before noon.” He followed her gaze toward the distant suggestion of Redcliffe, squinting into the morning light. “I’ve been once. Briefly,” he said. “ It’s… got history. Some of it rough. But the people are good, and the food usually makes up for the rest.” He glanced up again in the direction she’d indicated, squinting like that might magically conjure rooftops. “A little scary, sure. But most places worth seeing are.”
⋰⏆◝ノ 𝕐𝕊𝕆𝕃𝔻𝔼 𝔼𝕄𝕄𝔼𝕃𝔸𝕀ℕ ⤐ alaric vernhart .
"𝙼𝙼." 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙰 𝚃𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃-𝙻𝙸𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳, 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝙶𝚁𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙲𝙴, ysolde shakes her head with an almost frenetic energy — this is very serious to her. "you shouldn't say things like that." she knows it's a joke. of course she does. not even in a way that starts with the word 'technically.' she just desperately does not believe in even jokes that broach the realm of blasphemy. she's also very aware how that rigid moralism presents to others. on a similar note — "let you starve?" she chuckles and sets her now empty mug down in the slightly moist earth next to her. "you're on your own unless you're bleeding, i have prayers." she flashes lark a bright smile and a little giggle.
as he talks about redcliffe village, she listens silently, nodding along sagely with real interest. "so what's your story, then? i'm sure you've seen so many amazing places." she's more interested in travel as a concept. though she's somehow found herself doing — forward outreach or something, she's never really been a fan of the adventuring life. hearing about it, though? or briefly experiencing a romanticized version? an absolute gift from the maker.
Revas gently placed his index finger on Vaelen's lips to hush him. "Indoor whisper, falon. I am right here and all ears as we elves like to say." By all of the gods, this one really wasn't used to anything. Vas wondered how long it would take Vaelens soft hands to harden up in The Dales. He's a little surprised that Vaelen can't see the artifact, surely he had some of the elven traits right? "They have it in the camp," Revas explained. "It hasn't been activated yet but Shemlen playing with Elven toys doesn't usually end well for them or for us."
Revas had no doubt that some nearby clan would be accused and punished for an explosion of a human's own making. "I also don't think this part of the forest needs a crater in it. It didn't need this camp either but the crater's going to be there for decades, the Shemlen camp won't."
He let out a soft sigh. "I was going to sneak in after dark..." he looked Vaelen up and down. "Perhaps with you we don't have to sneak in we could simply walk in and take it... in the name of the inquisition of course we are both very devout members." Revas winked trying to convey to Vaelen what he meant.
⋰⏆◝ノ 𝕍𝔸𝔼𝕃𝔼ℕ 𝔸ℝ𝔸𝕍𝔼𝕃𝕃𝔼 ⤐ revas brecillian .
"𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂," 𝚅𝙰𝙴𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚂, 𝙸𝙽 𝙰 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴. heart pounds in his ears. he's still trying desperately to see the aforementioned triangular artifact revas is referring to, but if anything, his vision is the furthest thing imaginable from the keen eyesight elves are known for. after so many hours poring over worn tomes in low light, it's something of a wonder he can see at all. "i always thought that was an offensive turn of phrase." he's vocally informed others of that, at least.
slowly, vaelen reacts to everything else revas is saying. brow knits first, then he turns to the other man — head alone, and then the eyes follow a second or so later. "it's — this item is something dangerous? is it magical?" he glances back to the forest beyond for a moment. "i still don't understand why i should help you. you could be lying. i — i have no idea who you are." he has a horrible feeling that any choice he makes here will somehow manage to be the wrong one. part of him wants to leave now, say he represents the inquisition and shouldn't be doing things like that. but what does vaelen really care for the inquisition, anyway?
She's right to keep her eyes fixed on him, not that Bastion was stupid enough to do something out in the open and during such a... festive event. An apostate with the Chantry? Bastion almost laughed at the idea but he kept his cool. A waste of her talents more like it. He tilts his head, interested in what she's saying but he has no desire to indulge what she wants, approval for doing what she she thinks is the right thing.
"And I suppose that brings you... peace yes?" Her words don't sting him, Bastion isn't phased. He's had worse things said to him by much worse people that actually meant it. He knew deep down what Ysolde desired and he knew that the Chantry would never give her, unconditional love. The Chantry wouldn't give it to anyone who was magically gifted, even if they vowed never to use their talents again. She'd be shoved back in to a circle as soon as the Chantry were able to do it.
"It does pain me," he said softly. Tenderly like a parent would. "To see you so openly admit that you enjoy wasting your talents for people who'd lock you away the second they can." Bastion leans in, to play in to her desires, his voice is sweet, caring and fatherly.
"You'll always be welcome in Kirkwall."
⋰⏆◝ノ 𝕐𝕊𝕆𝕃𝔻𝔼 𝔼𝕄𝕄𝔼𝕃𝔸𝕀ℕ ⤐ bastion hutter .
𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝚂 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙸𝚂𝙴𝙻𝚈 𝚆𝙷𝚈 𝚂𝙷𝙴'𝚂 𝚂𝙾 repulsed and terrified by him. she's been frozen this entire time but, when he leans in towards her, all her limbs, her joints lock into place. viscerally displaced in time for a split second, eve flashes back to a moment much like this years ago. the feeling of bastion's hand brushing tenderly across her face as he murmured something about pride and potential. it was everything she'd ever secretly wanted to hear from someone who cares about her. but none of it was real. in a way, she and bastion are doing the same thing. they each want the other to be not who they are, but a different person entirely, one more palatable and convenient. "they aren't gifts," she whispers. the words barely pass her lips, they're so quiet. "you are evil, what you do — is evil." truthfully, she's likely blamed bastion for everything that went wrong in her life after they met. a stubbed toe, a letter lost in transit? sent from the maker as a punishment for indulging in blood magic.
kirkwall. is that where he lives now? she wonders if she could drop an anonymous hint to lady nightingale. surely this man, with all his wiles, is no match for the inquisition. "i've heard kirkwall is terrible," she says confidently. "i can't imagine i'd have any reason to visit. ever."
Saretha startles only a little at the commentary, then lets out a quiet huff of laughter she quickly smothers behind her hand. She leans closer not enough to draw attention, just enough to be heard over the murmurs of the crowd. “Careful,” she murmurs dryly. “If the wrong person hears you, that popcorn might be the least of what’s flying.” Her eyes flick briefly to the stage, then back again, one brow lifting. “You’re not wrong, though. Tragedy loses its bite when it’s polished into a sermon.” A pause, softer, amused. “They always forget the messy parts. The doubt. The people who didn’t want to be symbols.” She reaches out, nudging a stray kernel back into the bucket with one finger. “Still,” Saretha adds under her breath, “complaining through the whole thing is half the fun. I assume that’s why you stayed?”
⋰⏆◝ノ ℂ𝕆𝕃𝔼𝕋𝕋𝔼 𝕊𝔼ℝ𝔸𝕌𝕃𝕋 ⤐ saretha valetha .
"𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙸𝚃 𝙾𝚁 𝙽𝙾𝚃, 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝚂 𝙰𝙽 𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙸𝙰𝙽 tradition, particularly on the annums." with a rather unladylike sniffle, lettie slides even further down in her seat and flicks a kernel of popcorn into her mouth. "i'll be damned if i miss out." her gaze turns from the stage to the woman in the seat next to her — then she does a small but deeply unsubtle double-take, and her nose wrinkles when she sees saretha's ears. it shouldn't be a surprise to see an elf in the theatre. not in the slightest. half the cast are elves, regardless of their comparative rarity elsewhere in val royeaux. the fact colette is caught off guard is an unfortunate artifact of time spent away from her dear orlais. "i'll speak my peace," she murmurs, slowly turning her attention back to the performance. "they already don't want me here." a musical number begins, orchestral theme swelling. "ugh." she points to the actress standing center stage. "see, this is exactly what i mean. sermon." was she the one who said that? "flies in the face of historical accuracy just to push the narrative of the chantry. she was put to death for that, certainly not celebrated for it."
Psych – 5.06: Viagra Falls
Who: @theialen
Where: Dales
When: All Souls Day, morning
Develva does not look forward to such a sad day as All Souls Day, but she enjoyed seeing so many elves congregate to honor the same ancestors. No matter dalish or city elves, they all came to share stories and share losses. Donni was in attendance. Develva had a soft spot for the younger Dalish who shared the same hatred of humans.
The Druid hoped that Donni would behave herself during this period of mourning. If not that would only serve as more entertainment for Develva.
Develva wandered near the edge of her encampment to look for Donni. "Celalen" She called sarcastically despite the mournful energy in the air "Where are you Donni?" Develva needed the hunter's assistance with supplies and completing the rites.
⋰⏆◝ノ 𝔸𝔻𝔸ℕℕ𝔸 𝔼ℕ𝔸𝕍𝕌ℝ𝕀𝕊 ⤐ develva hanin .
𝚂𝙷𝙴'𝚂 𝚂𝚄𝙿𝙿𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝙾𝙽 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝙱𝙴𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙸𝙾𝚁. she mostly is. she has people that she's lost. both of her parents, for starters. but as an elf — she supposes she does not understand the reason for mourning, on its face. all elves are family, and the ancestors await in the beyond. life is so short. in donni's opinion, it should not be wasted in tears. at the sound of develva's voice, adanna drops from a sitting position on a high branch and hangs by her knees for a moment. "ir ara!" donni swings herself off the branch, flips gracefully in the air, and lands in a squat in front of develva. "here," she repeats in common with a grin. "e’e! paliera il shivanas! what do you need?"
Rhiannon looked on rather disturbed by Ysolde's lack of coordination as her books fell into the mud. "Am I alright?" Rhiannon repeated the question rhetorically. "I would be better if you would have watched where you were going"
The bloodmage glances sideways to try and get a look at what was in Ysolde's hand. Books could be such dangerous little things full of unknown magic. While Rhiannon learned her forbidden gift from a freak encounter, there were still many more that could be taught. "What's in the tome, girl?" She asked filled with sharp prying interest. Could she be a new recruit for her little circle of bloodmages? No. She should not try and bring someone into such a chaotic life. "You should know better than getting into subjects you cannot possibly comprehend"
⋰⏆◝ノ 𝕐𝕊𝕆𝕃𝔻𝔼 𝔼𝕄𝕄𝔼𝕃𝔸𝕀ℕ ⤐ rhiannon .
"𝙸 — " 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽'𝚂 𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚂𝙴𝚂 𝙴𝚅𝙴 to freeze and look over to see just who she's run into. "i'm really, really sorry." her apology, meek and breathless as it is, is completely genuine. at the moment, eyes wide as they are, eve has never looked more like a frightened halla. which is — saying something. "i got a little — overenthusiastic." a bad habit for her, really. and one she's put no effort at all into breaking.
what's in the book? mouth hangs open as the question bounces around in her mind. "i don't — they're just novels." romance novels, to be specific. "i just bought them." she gestures behind her, to the dwarven bookseller a few paces away. "are you — are you injured, or — ? if i've gotten your clothes dirty, i — " she has no money. she effectively took the chanty oath of poverty upon arriving in haven years ago. the coin for the books came from lady cassandra. "i'm sure the inquisition would pay for them to be cleaned, or — get new ones? if that would be preferable?" there must be some reason this woman is so upset with her, though it's not readily apparent to ysolde.
Minaeve had the choice of going to Val Royeaux or the Dales. While the elf had felt a need to go home, she was nervous that she would run into the elves that exiled her and left her to fend for herself all those years ago. She hardly thought that Vaelen would understand her struggle with her choice of holiday since the mage was obsessed with Dalish culture.
"I have my reasons, as everyone does" Besides, Minaeve was thrilled with the prospect of exploring a city. "You must understand as a fellow scholar yourself, Vaelen! The prospect of exploration comes so rarely" she looked over the menu for what was available. There was a lot of seafood. The crab legs looked delicious, but so did the fried fish! "We could split something from the seafood selection, maybe? As for drinks I prefer anything with fruit"
⋰⏆◝ノ 𝕍𝔸𝔼𝕃𝔼ℕ 𝔸ℝ𝔸𝕍𝔼𝕃𝕃𝔼 ⤐ minaeve karil .
"𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚅𝙴 𝙶𝙾𝚃 𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴, 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃'𝚂 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙴." with a chuckle, he takes a small sip of water and eyes nearly roll back in his head. he's not a precious person by any stretch of the imagination — like his friend, vaelen also enjoys a good adventure. but having grown up in orlais, even in a circle — suffice to say he shares lady josephine's complaints with the accommodations of skyhold. the water here is cool, crisp, and without any threat of pathogenic illness. a luxury he does not take for granted. "the crab legs are incredible, they're so meaty here. they catch them just around the corner, there." he replaces the water goblet on the table once more. he'll have this reaction to the water at least four more times.
"you can get fried fish anywhere." with a haughty frown, vaelen waves a hand in the air dismissively. "get anything you haven't tried before. mother will be more than happy to cover whatever the bill is, she'll just be glad i had a meal with a friend." the somewhat embarrassing admission doesn't even register with him. fruit. he picks the menu back up and scans it. "how much fruit?" there are some lovely citrus cocktails that would pair nicely with the seafood, or maybe a nectarine yellow of a good vintage?
solas felt different than many of the others; the inquisitor shone differently as well. but solas… he felt in between. solas was different, he was sharper– of material and the fade. his companions had a song of their own, but solas was quiet. cole cannot hear his hurt as much; the hurt is there, but it is softer—difficult to hear. “the statue—there is pain within you--but faint.” his neck crooked slightly to look over at the crowd, "it doesn't matter that they won't remember me. what matters is that I helped."
⋰⏆◝ノ 𝕊𝕆𝕃𝔸𝕊 ⤐ cole .
𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙰𝚂 𝙼𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚂 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝙾𝙽 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙴'𝚂 shoulder affectionately. "it is nothing you need to concern yourself with." he hopes, in fact, cole does not push any further on this matter. pale eyes fall back on the shrine to someone who was once a dear friend. it is an exquisitely human experience, to have such a profound emotion and not a single place to safely put it down. "i am simply taking time in remembrance. just like everyone else here." he smiles at cole — someone he can actually help. a fresh start. "is there someone you miss today, cole? someone no longer in your life who once was?"
The Three Musketeers - Part I: D'Artagnan (2023)