roma★
Fai_Ryy
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Interview Vampire Daily
ellievsbear
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
Andulka
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
occasionally subtle
d e v o n
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
almost home
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
shark vs the universe
ojovivo
YOU ARE THE REASON
🪼
hello vonnie
Game of Thrones Daily
Color Me Curious
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@venviru-blog
★ “ To extend our reach to the stars above ! “ ★
credit.
★ “ To extend our reach to the stars above ! “ ★
credit.
Whatever people’s opinions were of the Circle of Magi, Vivienne knew better than to simply believe that nobody cared for the preservation of culture and knowledge. There were many great resources and lore that had been lost in the war, and it pained the First Enchanter to think of all the potential that had been wasting away because of people’s prejudice.
She sighed with relief at the Herald’s reply. “Thank you, my dear. The Circle ––– and I ––– greatly appreciate such a gesture.” It was a risk, sticking her neck out for the Inquisition with its small beginnings. Most believed her to be utterly out of her mind, joining a group that had been declared heresy by the Chantry, but she paid them no mind. The World was burning; and if there was one person who would not stand idly by, it was certainly Vivienne.
“Might I ask what brought you to staying with the Inquisition? Surely, you did not choose for much of this to happen to you.”
Since Vivienne was the one to ask the favor, she did not expect the mockery and condescension that often resulted from her efforts to preserve and protect. But that was so far from the norm it still took effort not to be surprised. Most would argue that there’s a war going on and the last thing to worry about was filling the libraries and saving letters and artifacts. Admittedly, those were not her main concerns. But as someone whose entire way of life was once centered around recovering histories lost to violence, she could not simply let more years burn and rot if she could put a stop to it by folding missives away in her coat or adding extra books to her pack. “I’m glad to help.” At least in part. The knowledge that her efforts would inevitably be aiding the Circle was almost sickening. But-- Vivienne had risked her life for their cause, this small favor was minuscule in comparison. A laugh nearly bubbled to the surface. Choose? “If you’re referring to falling from the Fade and making an enemy of the Chantry, Templars, and at least half of Thedas, no I didn’t choose it.” Now she did laugh, because it’s all so ridiculous when she actually said it. “Staying though--.” The rifts were tearing the sky apart, war and fear were tearing Thedas apart, and there was a chance she could help. “I can’t just do nothing.” She’d inadvertently done so before and refused to do so ever again. “Isn’t that why you stay? Or have you found a sudden love for apostates?” It was not a joke so much as slight recognition of Vivienne’s own circumstances. How it must grate upon her, and yet she remained despite.
( @venviru )
“ Tell me, mon ami, from a Dalish perspective – how are you acclimating to Skyhold? I can imagine it would be quite, ah… overbearing. ”
Brows lift, as they always do, when he speaks Orlesian at her. She still hasn’t a clue what those little phrases mean.
“---From a Dalish perspective, hm? Alright. The walls are too high, the ceilings are not high enough, and there’s nowhere to run without falling off a cliff or a rampart. But--- it’s also one of the most amazing places I’ve ever been.” A tentative smile. “What of you, lethallin? Splendid enough for you?”
@venviru
It is strange to see another elf in such a position, but Fenris shrugs it off. He will certainly not be treated any differently due to a supposed shared cultural heritage. From the look of the Inquisitor’s face, he was dealing with a Dalish, and he had never quite managed to get along with his wandering “kin.” The inclination of his head is automatic. “Inquisitor. I wish to offer my services against Corypheus.”
Rather respectful, that’s refreshing. “And I wish to accept them, trust me.” She nearly smiles. “But taking in everyone who walks up can be a bit of a liability. So if I may ask-- who are you?” A non-Dalish, she already knows. The accent is entirely wrong as is the nature of his markings. She has seen all manner of vallaslin, countless variations of patterns and colors, but nothing like the intricate designs trailing down his chin. That coupled with his (admittedly) menacing armor makes her curious, if not a bit cautious, though she is careful not to let it show.
blah, blah, blah. obey me! arrow in my face –
credit
Sit? So many possibilities could take place from just sitting. They could be ambushed. A bear could raid the camp. Templars or rebel Mages could carry their current fight towards their spot. That weird green mess in the sky could rip open right above them. Demons could get them. Their ‘master’ would find them. The entire world could become–
Stop. Breathe. They know none of such things were going to happen. At best, they’d sit, speak, and they would leave with a belly full of food to last a few more days. They swallowed thickly, shifting on the spot, utterly silent the entire time while their mind raced, louder than a group of riled up people. A nod eventually came, words just barely trailing behind…
“ Yes– I mean. If it’s… If it’s not wrong if I do sit down. Sorry, that– That sounded weird. Didn’t it. ”
“I’ve heard weirder, trust me.” Again, if only Cole was there. His cryptic, border-line non- sensical method of communicating might put their mind at ease. Or freak them out like with most people---. Maybe it was better not to take that gamble tonight. “But it’s not wrong. You’re more than welcome.” Something about their fears of sitting down with her pulled unpleasantly at her mind, bringing memories of Haven servants scurrying from her presence for unfounded fear of inspiring her displeasure. As if to lead by example, she turned, showing faith by not only putting her back to a perfect stranger but also by trusting them to follow as opposed to run off while given the chance. She took a seat in front of her own tent, sitting cross-legged on the fire-warmed ground before patting a spot beside her with a smile still in place and looking up expectantly.
Ava Lavellan and Cullen commission for vallasliin.
“Will you be finishing that?”
✧ @venviru
“It’s chocolate.” Translation: I will bite your hand if you so much as reach for this cake.
’ inquisitor! ’
a voice — bubbly, lilting, heavily accented — called out from the courtyard of skyhold, beckoning the aforementioned woman to her side. cheeks shone a cherry tint from the sharp, freezing wind that swirled ’round the dead limbs of the wintery trees — a snowstorm had passed &&left a wake of both a sickly && delighted crowd of inquisition members. — merrill was definitely the latter of which.
so much so, she was ecstatic to involve her friends in the cold weather’s activities. it had been hours since she first began forming rumpled && misshaped shapes, && a few more since others had begun to participate. there had been one, however, that merrill was determined to invite.
so, charcoal eyelashes flaked with white crystals && nose numb, the elf approached the other with a wide smile, ’ savhalla, inquisitor! would you — would you like to join us? it’s not too terribly cold, if you don’t mind a runny nose — && you’re always working so hard — you never know! perhaps you are the most talented snow-builder-woman! ’
@venviru.
Tapered ears flicked at the sound of her title (Josephine would applaud her for finally answering to it) and she turned with a smile already blooming from recognizing the voice. Merrill, she nearly put Viru in the mind of Cole with her ability to dispel the shadows so often hanging over the inhabitants of Skyhold (herself included). And it seemed that today was no exception. Although not fond of freezing her arse off in the snow, the thought of remaining out in the yard among the smiling and shivering revelers made her eyes light up where before they seemed heavy. How --nice it would be to simply join them, fumbling with freezing hands to build statues of snow, complaining and laughing about how foolish they all were. She could--. For a moment, her smile faltered, a thousand duties running through her head and sitting on her shoulders. No, Merrill, I’m sorry but I’ve too much to do, perhaps later, I can’t waste any time--. The excuses almost fell, inarguable and hasty the better to ensure escape. But instead her boots crunched upon snow and her gloved hands scooped up a ball of the white powder. “Well, I’ll never know unless I try, right?” Cheeks rounded out with the curve of her grin. “How hard do you think it’d be to make a halla out of this stuff?”
Variety reports that Imogen Poots is starring in Mobile Homes, a Canadian-French drama written and directed by Vladimir de Fontenay and currently being filmed in and around the Niagara Falls area.
Adapted from a short film with the same title, the story follows a young woman drifting from one motel to the next with her dangerously intoxicating boyfriend and her eight-year-old son. After a crisis rips their lives apart, she lands in a mobile home community, where the promise of a new beginning for her son forces her to reexamine the very meaning of motherhood.
good responses to getting stabbed with a sword
rude
that’s fair
not again
are you gonna want this back or can i keep it
Irenirendil Lavellan: The Inquisitor
The Hermit
irenirendil‘s inquisitor, rift mage extraordinaire, trying to find her way after the incidents at the end of Inquisition.
Things that an elven Inquisitor probably deals with
Diplomats and dignitaries attempting to address their advisers instead of them because consulting an elf is like consulting a servant
Someone suggesting they cover their vallaslin with powder or tinted creams when they go to court, likely in the name of being helpful
Never ending backhanded compliments. “Oh Maker, they know how to use a fork when eating? Goodness they must not be so barbaric after all!” “How nice it must feel to have risen up from such lowly beginnings. Surely they never imagined such splendor and power, it all must be so new and exciting.”
Being overly-sexualized due to their race. “You know, I’ve never seen elven ears up close. Am I wrong in thinking they must be delightfully sensitive?”
Being mistaken for a servant. All the time, often purposefully.
Hearing knife-ear, savage, barbarian, heathen, and other more colorful terms both to their face and behind their back.
People talking slowly and loudly under the assumption that they cannot speak common. Add hand gestures for extra points
People marveling when they can speak and understand common without difficulty, thanks
Enduring suspicious looks and even comments when they dare to communicate with fellow elves in their own language. “You could be saying anything!”
Receiving gifts of art supposedly rendered in their likeness. But the portraits tend to hide their ears beneath hair and soften the angles of their faces. Curves and bulk are added in places where none exist and in short they look awfully HUMAN in all these paintings and statues
Hearing the phrase “for an elf/Dalish” way too much. “You’re very pretty–for an elf.” “You read so well for someone Dalish!” “You speak common so beautifully for an elf.” “You’re so intelligent for an elf.” Yes yes! They get it! They’re an awfully exceptional elf bc surely no other elves have any talents or wits or virtues about them whatsoever!
Dealing with constant (be they subtle or obvious) attempts to convert them to Andrastianism or whatever the shems call their faith
Weird and offensive assumptions. “YEAH ya know what? We DO offer blood sacrifices up to our gods– or at least we’re about to start. I’ve been taught that they see killing off idiots as a particular act of reverence.”
the ENEMIES are becoming STRONGER. the BATTLES are becoming more INTENSE. the sting of LOSS is becoming more PROMINENT.
yet, here i stand.
surviving and fighting.
ι'м ѕтιll нere.
At times it’s hard to tell where your loyalties lie. Where you put your trust is important, as it can effect your relationships later on. I chose to trust you, because you showed me that not everything is as difficult as it seems. A free man is only as free as his own spirit, and I am afraid that mine is still chained to the past, and the chains are not so easily broken. Looking back too often is unhealthy, but what do you do when the slightest turn of the head can make you feel as though you are not worth to meet the eyes of a companion?
I AM STILL IN CHAINS, GNAWING AT THEM TRYING TO GAIN THE FREEDOM I SO DESPERATELY DESIRE.
independent and selective fenris of dragon age 2 mutliship / multiverse written by fen’harel rules.
A casual buttcheek stab with a fork. Absolutely stunning.
There is an undignified screech, more surprise than pain, right before Viru whirls around. “What in gods’--!?”
“Miron?” It’s almost comical, how confused she is. From Sera or Bull or even Varric it’d be nothing short of typical (truly the lewd jokes never end), but Miron? Smirking ruefully, she flicks their arm, giving a little static shock. “Any particular reason you’ve decided to be a pain in the ass?”
