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@trevelyann
ind. inquisitor trevelyan rp blog | rules | about | the dawn will come.
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bowbeforeyouâ
He wished he could say the water tasted like heaven itself, but it still tastes like copper. Thin, wet copper that made his sore throat feel much better. Normally he hated people fussing over him, but right now he accepted it with open arms. Especially because he canât move his arms very much.
He rubbed at his wrists, blood shot eyes taking in his wife. She looked upset and tired, like she needed to see the sunlight and get some fresh air. Maker knows how long theyâve been locked down here for.
âFine,â he lied. If it was a good lie was a different story. He looked at Evâs green eyes, leaning into her touch. âYou should go rest. Eat something, take a walk. The worst bit is over and you look like you need a break, my love.â
Alistair himself wanted a bath and to change into clean clothes that didnât smell sour. Comfortable ones, maybe a good cup of tea. But that took a bare minimum of strength that he simply did not have. Being sat up alone felt like fighting a dragon, getting himself up, undressed and into water sounded like fighting two archdemons with one hand tied behind his back. Evelyne didnât need to know all those details though. He shouldnât have put her through this to begin with.
He said fine, and one of Evelyneâs eyebrows shot up in obvious disbelief. Her thumb gently caressed his cheek, and it took all she had not to climb onto the cot with him, sweaty or not.Â
She was sure she looked as tired, as strained, as she felt -- if not worse. Whilst some in the room might have been worrying about what would have happened to the Ferelden throne, Evelyne honestly hadnât given it a single thought. Of course, she recognized her husbandâs title, respected it -- but he was, first and foremost, her love, her companion, her friend. It wouldâve felt like losing her other arm, had the worst happened.
âPerhaps,â she agreed, shrugging. âBut where I want to be -- need to be, I think -- is here.â
She offered him a sweet smile that also seemed to suggest there was no use arguing with her. âIâll do my resting here, thank you. Iâm going to assume the world still remains outside the walls of this room. It canât have completely gone to shit while weâve been down here.â
ooc / hey all! iâm gonna be a little slow this week; iâm feeling pretty exhausted lately. replies will probably be done in a slow trickle. thanks for your patience! and if you would like my discord for ooc chatter, please feel free to dm me. đ
bonus note for here: iâm going to do a significant update to this blog soon-ish. for now, iâm gonna be slow bc tired, lol.
bowbeforeyouâ / alistair
He gave a curt nod, or at the very least hoped it looked like one. Her words with twisty-turney in his ears, but Alistair could still put two and two together. He couldnât comfort her though. Even if he could move properly, there was no comfort to give. Heâd welcome a swift knife to the chest or even a slow one to the gut. Something.
At some point, his will gave out, as did his ability to struggle against the pain or even cry or speak. Instead he simply laid there and let fate run its course, unaware of the movement of time at all. Not that it was easy to measure it down here, what with there being no windows.
After what felt like two thousand years, something changed. He felt utterly exhausted and sore, but the burning was gone. He could see.
Alistair desperately wanted to roll on his side and curl up in the blankets, but he was still bound. His eyes fluttered half way open. âI thinkâI think itâs done. Can someoneâŠ?â He waved his hands a little, fighting to stay awake as best as he could. For Evâs sake, if not his own.
He felt gross. Sticky. Like heâd run one hundred miles in the midst of winter. âMay I have some water? Everything tastes like blood.â He scrunched up his noise, trying and failing to put on some what of a cheery tone.
This time, when Alistair spoke, the room sprung into action. Because this time, he wasnât pleading for the end -- he wasnât screaming, he wasnât seemingly on the precipice of death. He sounded like him, albeit incredibly exhausted.
Someone ran for water, and while they did, Evelyne worked with remarkable speed at undoing the restraints that had held him in place. Heâd no doubt have burns, scratches, and bruises because of them, but otherwise, he seemed -- he seemed -- to be in one piece.Â
She wanted to crush her body to his, to hold him tight, so relieved was she. But someone soon appeared with water, and then began to work towards propping Alistair up. Evelyne placed her hand atop his -- that would do for now.Â
Maker, theyâd been through so much. Hell and back, really. Maybe, just maybe, they could start working towards calm. Sheâd have said normal, but she suspected normalcy was not something that would ever be in their cards.
If you had told her all those years ago that sheâd not only befriend the Gray Warden Commander who would eventually become King of Ferelden but marry him, and then set to finding a cure for the Blight -- she would have laughed in your face. Andraste knows that marriage and love and all that went with it had not been in Evelyneâs periphery when sheâd become Inquisitor. But if anyone could have won her affections, well, it was Alistair.Â
âHow do you feel?â she asked, brushing her fingers idly along her husbandâs skin.Â
ooc / in an effort to get interactions rolling again, iâm going to reblog some memes & do a starter call shortly. if youâve reblogged a meme, look out, bc you might get a random evelyne in your inbox
so i am super back into da rn because i have started a new playthrough w/ a different inqusitor but like. gosh, i love the world, i love the lore, i love the locations, i love the characters. i also told myself iâd romance a different character & yet here we are romancing cullen again dnfjgj. listen i do what i want okay
anyway it just reminded me of an idea i had a long time ago that i never threw out b/c i was being shy so: if any cullens would be down to write a slow-burn romance to the tune of the da plot, likeâŠactually writing what their relationship is like as it unfolds with the in-game events (sprinkled with our own interactions ofc), i justâŠi am a sucker for slow-burn and i feel like cullen/inquisitor is the ultimate form of that
but that idea also goes for other characters, too, and relationships that we can write canon or decide we do what we want with them â so companions, advisors, etc. i donât know if itâd bore anyone but i would love to do like, deep multiparas of the events as they unfold
anyway itâs like 330am so iâll reblog this again tomorrow but. yes.
battle coupleÂ
@bowbeforeyou | alistair x evelyne, aka:Â the couple that kills bad guys together, stays together.
trevelyannâ:
â â Huh.â Evelyne sounded, tilting her head, now thoroughly distracted from her possibly-dying husband, at least for a moment. Strange, thatâŠdid that mean that her son was running about Ferelden? Her green eyes settled on Alistairâs frame and, for a moment, she thought â wouldnât it be funny ifâŠ
She shook her head, as if literally ejecting the ponderings out via her ears; she could muse and wonder later, when she was sure of her husbandâs mortality. And she couldnât help herself from checking on him, either, standing up to go walk over to his side, where she rested her palm on the edge of the cot he laid upon.
Dorian was still meditative, legs crossed and eyes shut. Evelyne looked between Dagna and her friend, and then shifted her gaze back to the man whom she loved so much that it almost actually ached in her chest. She was wary of touching him, as she didnât want to send him into a frenzy, but it feltâŠodd, to sit away from him, to pretend as if he werenât putting his life on the line.
âAlistairâŠâ she breathed, hoping that he could hear her, wherever he was.Â
The dark lifted from his eyes, the feeling of being completely tied down did too. But it took a few minutes for Alistair to realize where he was or even who Evelyne was.
Where there was just darkness and fear now sat a heavy sort of pain, twisting through his whole body to the point where he couldnât explain what hurt and what didnât. It was if it it was his blood that hurting more so than anything flesh. It was a constant, making the world around seem hazy and red.
âEvâ kill me. Please kill me.â He throat was hoarse from screaming not too long ago, and between the burning in his veins and the threat of slipping under into that nightmare again, heâd welcome death. Death meant peace, no matter what came after. This? This was worse than any torture he could think of it. It was worse than the Joining or the Calling.
âI canât,â he shook his head as tears slid down his cheeks, some of them even tinted red. âCanât do that again. Please donât make me. I canât!âÂ
Funny how hearing her husband plead for death made Evelyne wish â pray, even â that it was instead she who was in his place. And worse still, there was not a single thing she could do to help. Her occupation for the last few years had been to solve problems, to help, to remedy; and here she was standing before the one person she would have sacrificed everything for and then some, and she could do nothing.
She could not help herself; she reached out, pressing her hand against his shoulder. What was she to do â stand there and not try and comfort him? Her green eyes were wide, taking in the sight of his bloodied tears and strainedâŠwell, everything.
For being Andrasteâs Herald, Evelyne did not pray much. And yet here she was again, praying silently, pleading with whomever or whatever was willing to listen: Please donât let him die. Please get him through this. Please tell me I havenât killed him.
âAlistair, itâll be over soon,â Evelyne said aloud, and as she did, she realized she too was crying â soft, silent, desperate tears. Her voice, normally sure and strong and a bit snarky, sounded meek, even fearful. âMy darling, Iâm â youâre not dying today. Please, hang on just a little longer. For me.â
just thinking abt how evelyneâs first follower on this blog was cheezebot
cultivatedmemesâ:
Itâs about the yearning. the devotion book, song, poetry starter list, feel free to change pronouns or anything else to make it fit your character better!
â I would know his face in dark or disguise. I would know it even in madness. â
â I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world. â
â I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me. â
â To the ends of the earth, would you follow me? â
â In my dreams, itâs always you. â
â Your name fit into my mouth better than my own ever has, like I was born to speak it. âÂ
â There is no room for anything in body but you. â
â I think you know how to love better than any of us. Thatâs why you find it all so painful. â
â If I had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth. â
â I would give all this and heaven too, I would give it all if only for a moment. â
â How I ruined everything by saying it out loud⊠â
â He is half my soul, as the poets say. â
â You can love a monster, it can even love you back, but that does not change its nature. â
â What a waste to say the heart could feel apart or feel complete. â
â Someone will remember us, even in another time. â
â We were like gods at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but each other. â
â I cannot love a hero. I do not want to see you being turned into a statue. â
â I called your name âtil my fever broke. âÂ
â There is nothing in the world I wanted more than to hear what he had not said. â
â The heart is hard to translate, it has a language of its own. â
âIâd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, Iâd find you and Iâd choose you. â
â I made a promise when we were young. I told you I would see you again, no matter what became of us. â
â We are only human, and the gods fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy. â
â I am not beautiful, but I could be. â
â If you didnât want the beautiful so badly perhaps you wouldâve found it in your spirit singing softly. But hunter, you are human. â
â Because you want to die for love. You always have. â
â Iâd give him all that I am. Iâd give him all that I was. Iâd tie our hearts together, chamber by chamber. â
â The blood in your mouth, I wish it was mine. â
â Be with me alwaysâ take any formâ drive me mad! â
â I love you so much Iâm going to let you kill me. â
â When I am dead, I charge you to mingle our ashes and bury us together. â
â I will love you forever; whatever happens. Till I die and after I die, and when I find my way out of the land of the dead, Iâll drift about forever, all my atoms, till I find you again. â
â You were my new dream. â
â I wish for earthquakes, eruptions, flood. Only that seems large enough to hold all of my rage and grief. â
â Speak of her over my grave, and watch how she brings me back to life. â
â Iâll live without you, though the struggle will be daily. â
â How dare you ask me to live with it? I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul! â
â No grave can hold my body down. Iâll crawl home to her. â
â Donât leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you! â
â When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him. â
â I cannot conceive of a universe without you in it. â
â He would go, and I would follow, even into death. â
â If you have to go, you know I will go with you. â
â Perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. â
đ
bowbeforeyouâ:
Dagna opened her mouth to speak, only hesitating when she realized the Inquisitor wasnât looking for an indepth analysis on blood usage. Not sure why Evelyne would care but wanting to be useful if it would make her stop looking so sad, Dagna attempted to recall what she could remember.
âThe Wardens have some of the best archives in the world. One of the highest positions you can get in their order is to be an archivist, sort of like how it is in Orzammar. Except Dwarves strip things from their records if we donât like them or if someone shames their family. The issue is that thereâs a lot of stuff in the history of everything, and itâs impossible to hide all the juicy bits.â
She wrung her hands together. âThe only Warden in history to get rid of the taint is Grand Enchanter Fiona. Thatâs not really a secret, sheâs in a circle, you donât hide that kind of stuff from the templars. So IâŠmay have found out what Circle she was from and asked about the rumors. Someone had to hear something, right? But hereâs where things get crazy: the Circle she was First Enchanter in is Hossberg, which is controlled by the Grey Wardens. MyâEr, sources from there get to work in the libraries in Weisshaupt Fortress and thereâs no one more reckless than a bored mage. No offense, Dorian. So they managed to go through some old records and even though there was a lot of redacted information, most of it was pretty easy to piece together. Also, utterly useless. She got enlisted, in 9:10 she got pregnant, in 9:11 she was dismissed for not being tainted anymore. All but her and one other Orleasian Warden got killed in 9:10. The other one died in 9:30 at Ostagar.â She shrugged.
âIâm sorry itâs not all that exciting, but I thought it was interesting. Whatever killed everyone that same year must have done the opposite to her. Iâm guessing her son died or was taken away by the Chantry.â
â --- Huh.â Evelyne sounded, tilting her head, now thoroughly distracted from her possibly-dying husband, at least for a moment. Strange, that...did that mean that her son was running about Ferelden? Her green eyes settled on Alistairâs frame and, for a moment, she thought -- wouldnât it be funny if...
She shook her head, as if literally ejecting the ponderings out via her ears; she could muse and wonder later, when she was sure of her husbandâs mortality. And she couldnât help herself from checking on him, either, standing up to go walk over to his side, where she rested her palm on the edge of the cot he laid upon.
Dorian was still meditative, legs crossed and eyes shut. Evelyne looked between Dagna and her friend, and then shifted her gaze back to the man whom she loved so much that it almost actually ached in her chest. She was wary of touching him, as she didnât want to send him into a frenzy, but it felt...odd, to sit away from him, to pretend as if he werenât putting his life on the line.
âAlistair...â she breathed, hoping that he could hear her, wherever he was.Â
bowbeforeyouâ:
âI almost want to get all my notes bound in leather and send it up to the Warden headquarters just to rub it in their faces. How lazy can you be to call something âincurableâ when you havenât even tried to fix it. I mean, the Grand Enchanter got cured, lived, and had a baby at basically the same time and they didnât even try to study it. Thatâs two whole people who have some weird taint resistant thing and no one cared at all!â
She sighed and threw her hands up.Â
âMan, what I would give for some of their blood. Especially baby blood, itâs the best since thereâs no outside impurities yet. Hypothetically, and itâs very very hypothetical because Iâm just making guesses here, you could synthesize it and use it to cure any Warden you wanted. Maybe even make a version of the Joining that cuts out the Calling part and leaves the ârawr, Iâm really good at killing darkspawnâ part intact.â
Dagna paced the room before going back to her desk and falling onto her stool with a thump. âItâs too late for that now, but I wouldnât complain if I somehow got some of the Grand Enchanterâs bloodâvoluntarily, of course.â
Thereâs something odd that Dagna says about the Grand Enchanter â that sheâd gotten cured, lived, and had a baby. When had she...did Evelyne know this already? Evelyne already felt out-of-it; maybe sheâd misheard Dagna. Yes, thatâs it.Â
Besides, Dagna soon said something else equally as concerning shortly after, though it was concerning for different reasons. Evelyne, who had previously been leaning against Dorian, sat up with a quirked brow. âDid she just say she wanted...baby blood?â
âYes, my dear,â came Dorianâs reply, said with a strange sort of maternal affection. He wrapped an arm around Evelyne and squeezed her shoulder. âItâs...not worth getting into.â
Evelyne shook her head. âBut something else is,â she said, narrowing her eyes. âDagna, I need...a distraction. Can you go over all of that...Grand Enchanter stuff, again? You said no one cared at all, but suddenly, I am finding that I care quite a bit.â
well hey, yâall. sorry for low-to-no activity here lately. i am planning on getting back to things here soon enough (still thinking about converting this into a video-game based mm too, so thatâs on the table). i still love evelyne, of course, but iâve mostly been over here.
divinesleftâ:
@trevelyannâ // lyric starter call // crystal clear - hayley williams
âwe donât know how this could END - letâs hope it wonât have to.â
âI suspect it will end with my great-axe relieving Corypheus of his head. If not, I donât know what else there is. I canât fail this. I canât fail you.âÂ