#muse: uldred

[massgrav]

And I have died a thousand times And endured agony they could only dream

—

in the end I'll always crawl back to my cherished, ugly, life-sick, gangrenous misery.

#darkart #muse: #uldred #blood #wounds #glass #suicidaldepression #blood magic or selfharm? who knows #doesnt matter #traditionalart #digital editing #lyrics: dead space - a portrait of sacrificial scars

[darthlordcommie]

DAO Thoughts: Niall

So, here talking about an overlooked but unbelievably important character in Dragon Age Origins: Niall. Spoilers for DAO, obviously.

So, the first time we can possibly see Niall is in the mage origin. He’s talking Circle politics with a senior enchanter, and he mostly seems to be there to set up that there are Circle politics.

The first time that any player can hear about Niall is during Broken Circle. We hear from the Tranquil Owain that Niall had rounded up a group of mages, grabbed the Litany of Adralla, and was heading up to confront Uldred, and do something about the situation. So, before we even really meet the guy, we learn that he’s someone who, in a crisis, was someone that other mages listened to, and was able and willing to step up.

Unfortunately, he and his group encountered the Sloth Demon. Just as the player does. He’s actually the first dreamer and real person you encounter in the Fade, and he explains what’s going on, and how the Circle fell apart. He mentions that at first he was dozing, bc Circle meetings like that tended to be boring, but he woke up when magic started being cast. Niall explains what happened to Uldred, and how he cheesed it out of there as fast as he could. And although he positions it as a cowardly act, with how everything went, it was probably the smart thing to do. And in an example of incredible courage, the moment he caught his breath, Niall gathered up a bunch of mages, grabbed something he knew would be useful, and went to take on Uldred. Unfortunately, he never reached him.

Putting aside game mechanics, it’s pretty clear that a great deal of the reason your character succeeds in the Fade is that Niall already laid the groundwork. He explains what’s going on, points out transformations, demons, how the nightmares work, and guesses pretty accurately where your companions are. At this point, the only reason Niall wasn’t able to escape himself was because by the time he’d figured it all out, the Sloth Demon had drained him of his will, and he was fading. Remember, Niall was trapped in the nightmare for days, slowly dying.

In the end, with his guidance and advice, you’re able to reach the Sloth Demon and kill it. As he advises you one last time, he also muses that he wasn’t destined to save the Circle or the mages. But the truth is, he did. He guided you through the Fade. He retrieved the Litany of Adralla, when you yourself had no way of knowing that it would be important, he gathered forces, and he tried. And when he died, he passed the torch to you, and you were able to finish what he started, and save the mages.

Niall was, as the game presents him, a fairly ordinary mage. But in a time of need, he stepped up, and he did his best to fight and save the Circle. And he was able to survive long enough to make sure you survived and succeeded. Your success literally would not be possible without him. So, here’s to you, Niall. You stepped up, in a time when nobody would have blamed you for running and hiding. At a time when the trained soldiers who functioned as your jailers turned tail and fled, you, a civilian who could shoot fire, stepped up to try what you could. You were truly one of the unsung heroes of Dragon Age Origins.

#dragon age #dao #dragon age niall #broken circle

[a-byronic-heroine]

So, I was reading your stuff about your muse's DA verse, and I see you made her a Kinloch mage. Does this mean she knew Cullen, Jowan Anders, Amell/Surana or any other Origins characters we see there?

I think I’ve talked about how Kly knowing Cullen at Kinloch is highly unlikely. During the mage origin prologue, it’s implied that he’s a fairly new recruit. He hasn't developed the ability to separate himself from his charges (he's still trying to be amicable with mages instead of just watching them). If they ever met at Kinloch (very, very big if here), it would have been at the very end of Kly’s tenure there but again it's very unlikely. Now, Kly will know of him from the Gallows due to her work with the Mage Underground, but again she's never met him until she got caught in Inquisition.

As for Jowan and Amell or Surana, that’s going to be a no. She will not know them. If she did, they would have been much younger than her.

Anders is a different story. He was fairly notorious at Kinloch for his constant escape attempts, and Kly admired that about him. If they had met (this would be dependent, of course, on any Anders mun consent and whatnot) it would likely have been during healer classes. And even then, it would likely have only been in passing as Kly was usually too anxious to socialize or make friends. The only person she really interacted with outside of learning was Uldred, and we see how that turned out.

As for others from Origins, I think only Knight-Commander Greigor, Uldred (obviously), Wynne and First Enchanter Irving would know of Kly. Greigor and Irving would likely know of her because 1) she’s a Cousland, 2) she is a harrowed mage and 3) they had to orchestrate a cover for her escape. Wynne was a healer and teacher, so she likely oversaw Kly at some point. I won’t go over Kly’s ties to Uldred because I’ve done that a lot elsewhere.

#ty for the ask #dragon age verse #headcanon #headcanons

[orsino-the-enchanter]

Which fictional characters are your favourites & sharing some headcanons about a muse ?

(The symbols don't work, sorry 😭)

♕ ━ which fictional characters are your favorites?

All the morally grey antiheroes, especially if they are not considered ‘attractive’ in the conventional sense.

◈  ━ share some headcanons that you have for a muse of your choosing

My favorite headcanons for Orsino:

He’s about six feet tall. Average height for a human, but freakishly tall for an elf.

After Maud comitted suicide and Orsino overheard some templars laughing about it, he lashed out and sets the templar barracks on fire, almost killing all of them. The knight commander wants him dead or tranquil, but First Enchanter Maceron persuades him to make it 100 whiplashes and one month of imprisonment instead. That first night in prison after he was whipped within an inch of his life, Orsino’s somniari abilities awakened and his hair turned grey.

Survives on sugar, coffee and elfroot. Skinny as a twig.

He has earned his place in Kirkwall by setting people ablaze for disrespecting him without warning.

He and Uldred are besties

He is utterly oblivious to being flirted with.

Meredith is going all claude frollo over him and she is mad about it.

#mun speaks #headcanons

[lcgacyofages]

Hello, this is a multimuse RP blog for the Dragon Age franchise. I go by JB and I’m over 25 years old. This blog is filled with mature content, from violence to sexual situations and I would advise to follow at your own risk. I do try to tag things but sometimes it slips and Dragon Age is a mature game series.

Undercut is a list of muses by media as well as cut into primary, secondary, and request only. I have a female Mahariel rogue for my Warden, a Female warrior for my Hawke, and a male Lavellan mage for my Inquisitor. I also have a variety of companion and NPC muses as well. I am still working on setting up google docs and a few profiles yet.

Interest Tracker located here

Dragon Age: Origins

Primary

Eliana Mahariel - A bit spunky and mischievous, Eliana is headstrong and doesn’t take kindly to being talked down to. Naturally curious and friendly, though, she does try to do the right thing. Sometimes that right thing is revenge against Loghain.

Secondary

Arik Tabris - Companion non-HOF Tabris, who was recruited three months before the events of the game. He’s known as being severe and ruthless and not entirely diplomatic.

Zoria Amell - Amell Non-HOF Companion, where she leaves with the warden during Broken Circle after being put in isolation and the chaos enabling her sister, Aurora, to free her in order to protect both of them. Her phylactery was destroyed, she finds out, so she flees instead of returning to the Circle.

Request Only

Dimetrea Brosca - Brosca Non-HOF Companion. Instead of getting into the end of the Brosca origin, Dimetrea decides to leave and go to the surface for a better life and becomes a mercenary. She employs herself to the warden when she meets the group after dealing with a band of darkspawn.

Lir Cousland - The middle child of the Couslands (typically). He went off with Fergus to the Battle of Ostagar. The youngest Cousland managed to barely escape and was able to tell him of the betrayal at home before succumbing to their wounds. Lir managed to survive Ostagar and vowed revenge on Howe.

Dragon Age 2

Primary

Atena Hawke - Leans a bit towards red at times, Atena is a former soldier in Cailan’s army. Highly protective of those she’s close to, she wants to avoid confrontation but often her own patience and protectiveness makes that difficult. She sides with the mages.

Secondary

Dazbo Amell -  The older brother of Zoria and Aurora. Dazbo was at Kinloch Hold, helping his older brother, Sorin, with his plan of faking a study on magical families and how to curb it but actually plotting to get all of the Amell siblings out. When Uldred revolted, Dazbo managed to escape without his siblings after destroying his phylacter his templar handler had, and fled to Kirkwall. As far as any else is concerned, he was killed at Kinloch.

Request Only

Alric Hawke - A what if twin for my Hawke. He plays as her impulse control, often the more cautious of the siblings. He has a good heart, but being a mage, he knows he has to step lightly. He decides to be an instructor to the apostates of Kirkwall, in secret, feeling that is the best way to avoid abominations.

Katarina Anhalt - A templar transferred to Kirkwall who meets Hawke in Act 2. Transferred to Kirkwall to try to toughen her, she’s sympathetic and compassionate, having become a templar in an effort to protect people, mage and non-mage alike. She wants to follow her duties but she has questions about how things are run in Kirkwall.

Sasha Fitz - an elf blooded human raised by his elven mother in the alienage. His father is a Kirkwall nobleman and his mother’s former employer. Sasha has a strong contempt for the rich and well-to-do of Kirkwall, to the point he works as a thief known as The Hooded Figure (Hood for short). He steals from the elite and redistributes the wealth to the less fortunate.

Selena Porter - An Orlesian apostate mage who operates as a smuggler of a variety of finery to Kirkwall. She works independently and sometimes with other groups. She’s skilled at seeming to know when and were guards are going to be, in order to get her shipments in safely.

Dragon Age: Inquisition

Primary

Rajmahel Lavellan - A young elf sent to spy on the Conclave, due to his decent relations with humans and strong social skills, he found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was it the right place at the right time? Far from home, his daughter, his family, Rajmahel now takes on the task of saving the world from what threatens it.

Secondary

Arik Tabris  - by the time of Inquisition, the Hero of Ferelden has gone seeking a cure for the Taint. Arik has stepped in as Commander for Ferelden. If the Inquisitor does not exile the wardens, Arik becomes a companion/advisor.

Aurora Amell - Aurora is the youngest of the Amells, having been at Kinloch with her sister. A gifted healer, Aurora worked as an assistant to Wynne before the Mage Rebellion. She joined the cause and was at Haven but not the Conclave. She joined the Inquisition to get justice for the friends she lost at the Conclave and works as a main healer.

Idrilla Lavellan - at the request of her brother, Rajmahel, Idrilla brought his daughter to Skyhold shortly after they found it. She works as Rajmahel’s most trusted agent, often times handling the more brutal jobs. She’s also knowledgeable in the arcane and has abilities gained from finding an artifact as a youth, which she utilizes in helping her brother.

Seigfried Trevelyan - The older brother of Maxwell Trevelyan, a templar who died at the Conclave (base setting). Seigfried was also meant to be there, at his father’s orders, but he was held up in Haven due to a personal matter. Angered at the death of his brother, Seigfried joined the Inquisition to get justice for his brother. His past military experience is useful in training the new recruits.

Request Only

Hildegard Cadash - Hildegard is the aunt by marriage of the Cadash killed at the Conclave. Hearing of their death, the major figure of the Carta decided to offer her contacts and skills to the Inquisition. Because no one messes with her family and gets away with it.

Inatar Adaar - Younger sister of the Adaar killed at the Conclave (base). She also works with the Valo-Kas but decided she would join the Inquisition to get revenge. She’s known to be brash and hot-headed, not the type to hold back. Twin to Shamut Adaar.

Sergio di Vasco - A former Antivan crow who decided instead of fulfilling a contract on the Herald’s life, he would warn them instead. Tired of being a pawn and wanting to make something of himself, he joins the Inquisition. He knows the Crows won’t take lightly to this and is always looking over his shoulder.

Shalelan Amalasis - A Dalish warrior from the Amalasis clan in Antiva. Shalelan is sent as an envoy to a Dalish Inquisitor, to work with the Inquisition and hopefully sway for some help with Clan Amalasis’ feud with the merchant princes of Antiva.

Shamut Adaar - a qunari mage, younger brother of the Adaar killed at the Conclave. He learned his magic from a tal-vashoth apostate and works with the Valo-Kas like his siblings. He goes with his sister to find out who killed their sibling.

Other - May be able to fit in with game timelines in some verses

Request only

Antoinette de Ghislain - formerly an Orlesian bard, Antoinette ended up marrying into the de Ghislain family with an arrangement with Laurent de Ghislain. After having two children, an heir and a spare, the couple don’t spend much time with each other and Antoinette decided to earn an income for herself by writing erotic fiction about the heroes of Thedas, a hot topic among the Orlesian nobles.

Emrys Moysten - A Fereldan mage and Isolationist, Emrys formerly worked with the Inquisition but once the threat of Corypheus was past, left to see about setting up a mage commune away from others who would be a hinderance and in danger from the magic. He finds himself in Tevinter and realizing the danger is not yet passed.

Etienne de Rousseau - a former Senior Enchanter for the White Spire. The legitimized bastard son of Maquis de Rousseau and his mage lover, Etienne has had some ease being a mage. Yet he joined the Mage Rebellion after the events of Asunder and knowing things were too far gone. He was sent by Fiona as the negotiator to the Conclave, where he was killed. He does have AU where he functions as an advisor in the Inquisition.

Falon’Din - the Evanuris and God of Death and Fortune. Vain and ambitious, Falon’Din has always sought for his own personal gain and power, often putting him at odds with Elgar’Nan. When the Breach occurred, Falon’Din managed to find his way out through a rift, but by cruel fate, vallaslin appeared on his face and worked as a seal, containing a fair amount of his powers. He now seeks to undo the seal so he can gain control of the world while the other Evanuris are locked away.

Fenvir - the what if child of Idrilla Lavellan and Solas. Fenvir is a gifted dreamer and mage, but often finds himself feeling as if he doesn’t fit much of anywhere. Deciding he needs to stop his father and persuade him to find a different path, at 18 years, Fenvir leaves home to find a better solution and a way to convince his father to stop his plans.

Mathras Myriani - A former priest and soothsayer of Mythal’s temple. Mathras, in his youth, made the mistake of trying to advise Falon’Din during one of his visits and was blinded by the enraged Evanuris. After the fall of Elvhenan, Mathras did what he could for a time to help the elves left with their destroyed world. Yet he soon found himself falling into Utherena. He was guarded for a time but was forgotten when the Imperium conquered. He awoke in 9:30 due to the stirrings in the Fade.

Vincentius Titus - the former apprentice of Magister Aurelian Titus, he is now magister in after his death. He was born to a Soporati family but abandoned them in his ambitions. He is a blood mage and feels the Chantry holds back the Imperium and desires to return to the old ways, but with better social movement for mages, no matter the class they were born into while non-mages have little rights.

#Dragon Age RP #Indie darp #indie da rp #indie dragon age rp #Not A Legend { OOC } #I wanted to redo my pinned post

[tallowes]

@theharellan​ said: ❝ The odd thing about ambition is this: You can acquire it like a fever, but it is not so easy to shed. ❞ (for tace or any of your DA muses if you'd prefer another!)

THE CRUEL PRINCE | ACCEPTING

He grins, looking over him his transcriptions at the board and the reference tome in his hand to where Solas standing brooding his standard brood. ❝ Spoken from experience I wager-- what are you getting at this time Solas ? Should I count myself lucky my primary ambition is just " Don’t Die ” ? Or are you saying I’m at risk of a summer ambition and might want to take something for it ?  ❞ He laughs, hoarse and irreverent, like a slap. ❝ -- I mean we’d all hate for me to go the way of Uldred ! Imagine ME an Abomination ! The lost my beauty would be a sin against the Maker ! ❞ He laughs even more loudly at his own bad joke. 

#theharellan #TACE ❭ ANSWERED #TACE ❭ MEME REPLIES #i kinda love u picked tace bc he's.... very interesting and complex......and this just such a volatile mix #there's a LOT to gain from them talking but also tace's coping methods easily set people off since they're all kinda rude or disrespectful #and he likes to irritate people fdjgkdsgdskl #but he's also sharp as a whip and an avid scholar so #tfw u make bad jokes about the ominous looming fear of ur life that is a legitimately dangerous threat to everyone dfgljhsdlk

[authorellenmint]

Cullen’s Death

For those that love angst, this is when Cullen dies and meets the love of his life beyond the veil. Taken from Epilogue. Seriously, that’s a cry a minute fic. Beware.

Feet stomped up the stairs, one after the other. Clomp clomp clomp. It was never ending, the beat of shoe striking stone that echoed for an eternity in this narrow staircase. Maker's breath! Cullen paused to grab onto the railing and gaze upward. His work gloves dug into the old wood while he seemed to stare into infinity itself. How long was it going to take to climb this cursed thing?

Going back was impossible. His only hope was to keep moving forward. Sweat rose on his forehead while his back and knees both screamed in agony. They were begging him to stop, to take a rest, but he needed to reach the top.

Beginning again, Cullen managed another dozen steps when he heard a loud clang. Glancing down he was surprised to find instead of his leather work boots armor circled around his shins and calves protecting them from attack. How long had it been since he wore armor? Too many years as it was a struggle to get on and off.

But now, it felt as if it fit like a glove. Warm bear fur snuggled against his cheek, the old surcoat he wore during the Inquisition days draping against his arms as he continued to walk higher.

His steps grew steady, but the climb still seemed insurmountable, as if he had to scale an entire mountain by stair alone. Still, he wasn't turning back. Not now, not ever.

Passing another step, the bear fur swiped away from his cheek. Cullen glanced down to find that the trousers he'd purchased that first day after Cassandra invited him to serve the Inquisition were now a burgundy and gold skirt. Metal encased his hips and chest, his gauntleted fingers scraping down the sword of mercy embossed over his heart.

Templar armor. Not just any, but the one he wore in Kirkwall. A fire burned inside his stomach, begging for retaliation. Who else would build a staircase that goes nowhere but mages? They are the ones pulling this on you. Find them and punish them!

Cullen calmed the roar of rage with a cool breath. The cooling hadn't been there in his younger days, the fire always threatening to push him too far -- even past his limits. But she taught him, she helped him to find it. Her trust helped him to trust himself. With the assurance in his heart, Cullen began to leap up the stairs two at a time. What had once seemed impossible was now a lighthearted exercise.

He felt his body shifting as well, the muscle and fat put on over the years reforming to something younger and sleeker. No doubt he lost the scruff that never left him and perhaps a pimple or two prodded free on the end of his nose. The uniform de-aged as well, all the signs of promotion fading away until he was nothing more than a Templar-Knight.

No Commander, no Captain, not even a Lieutenant. He was 18 years old and staggering up a staircase inside... Yes, this was the tower. Kinloch tower, exactly as he remembered it before they tore it down. How was he here climbing it if the circle was destroyed? Did they miss a section? Or did someone rebuild it?

The thought clung to his brain a moment like a sour wine, when he turned to look up the stairs. Light burst through the entranceway, so beautiful it brought tears to his eyes. With an easy step that hadn't been inside his body since Uldred, Cullen scrambled up the stairs needing to reach the top. The warmth called to him, begged to envelope him in a sense of belonging and peace.

Fading quicker than a blink of an eye, the staircase vanished beneath his feet and he stood at the precipice of wherever he was eternally climbing to. Bookcases stretched as far as he could see, nearly fifteen feet tall and crammed with every cover imaginable. The entire air had a hazy pink quality, as if -- if one turned their head fast enough -- the world would fade to clouds. But what made Cullen freeze and hold his breath was the silhouette picking a book out of the shelves.

She already carried another five in her hands, because one was never good enough. The curly hair spilling off the sides wasn't kept in check by any towel or barrette. It was free to run wherever it wished. Dressed in the mage robes of old, when she turned in profile, Cullen gasped. She stood before him, a fresh faced seventeen year old not touched by war or death, loss or pain. A beautiful young woman standing on the precipice of her future while smiling serenely at the words of those who came before.

Suddenly, she turned and her breathtaking eyes landed right upon the scrawny, uncertain templar who stumbled onto his angel reading in the library. Lana's entire face lit up with the most perfect smile he'd ever seen. His heart stopped at the smile free of pain, of anguish, of sorrow. Cullen gasped a final breath at how her eyes glittered, bright as they'd always been and taking in only himself. He lay a hand to his chest, a flash of discomfort rising in his body, but with a step towards her it all faded away as he walked to his wife.

A wave wafted off her and she was both a fresh faced seventeen and a well worn sixty, a battle hardened twenty-five and a content, mothering forty-one. She was everything she'd ever been, and everything to him. She was perfect.

He managed another step forward, his body moving as if through water, while Lana perched her books on her hip and sighed. A laugh reverberated through the air sending waves of joy to his dour face as she shook her head. "Here I thought I'd have enough time to read through this entire library before you'd arrive."

Dropping the books onto the shelf, Lana -- both wise mother and nubile girl -- turned to the man growing in strength from her presence. Her eyes darted up and down him, the smile flattening a moment to sadness. As she reached out through the void between them, Cullen instinctively flinched. He feared that her touch would evaporate or be cold as the grave, but when her palm skirted against his cheek a warmth greater than any he'd ever felt in life overwhelmed his soul.

"My Honey eyes," she mused, Cullen's amber sight closing as he leaned into that hand he thought he'd never feel again. "I should have known you'd find me sooner rather than later."

"Lana," he gulped, "what's going...?"

Her finger drew against his lip, before sliding to traverse the scar. "Shhh," she smiled deeply and floated right into his arms. Cullen greedily tucked her close, his heart throbbing to match the one returned to him. As he buried his nose into the top of her head, breathing in the smell that always greeted him on the pillow beside his, she said, "There will be plenty of time to talk about that. To talk about everything."

"I missed you so much," he gasped into her hair, tears beginning anew. "I thought, feared that I'd..."

She looked up, her endless eyes staring deep into his. He tried to shake the tears free, but she was the one to gently cup her palm against both cheeks and wipe them away.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Cullen sputtered out.

Her smile lengthened, the years of torment and pain she had to crawl through reverberating from a small twist of her lips. "I always find you my templar, my husband, my love."

A gasp of breath rattled from him as Cullen cupped both her cheeks in his hands. "You do." Tugging her tight, he brushed his lips against hers. So many kisses over the years, soft ones, pressing ones, ones born in pain, others in joy; but one fact held true for them all, they were never enough. When it came to kissing her, the love of his life, Cullen would never be satisfied.

Her fingers dug up through his hair, seeming to tug the locks that shifted from the forced upon waves back into his curls of old. His whole life he gave his heart only to this amazing, beautiful, world-bending mage and never in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine that she'd give him hers in turn.

Cullen's lips slipped away from hers and the words forever etched into his heart sputtered forth, "I don't want to lose you."

She caressed a finger over the worry lines in his forehead, seeming to raise them and blot away all the anxiety in his mind. "Honey eyes, you never will. We have all of eternity together."

Leaning down, his forehead pressed against hers. Mage and templar thrown together in the darkest of times. They should have never worked, but she knew more than his heart, she was a part of his soul and would always be. A small chuckle lifted up his scar and Lana's eyes opened in confusion. Laughing to himself, Cullen mused, "That may still not be enough time."

She chuckled too, cupped his cheeks, and pulled her templar to her lips for a kiss that would never end.

#epilogue #angst #so much angst #death #this will hurt #cullen x amell #cullen's death #dragon age inquisition #my fic

[lcgacyofages-a]

💔 Zoria

send me a 💔 for my muse to talk about one of their exes. | ACCEPTING

“You could say I’ve a bit of a reputation for scandal in my life,” Zoria remarked dryly. “And that was no different as an apprentice.” She sucked in a breath, brows raising a bit. “My first time was when I was 16 with an instructor about 10 years my senior. And we kept up the relationship for some time. I decided I probably shouldn’t do it after a few months and glad I did that.” She paused. 

“It turned out he was a blood mage, having studied under Uldred.”

#Asks: Zoria #Character: Zoria Amell #HC: Zoria #Anonymous

[vstiges]

← - … My muse’s childhood friend

 send me a symbol and i will write a drabble about my muse from the point of view of… |  meme.

 ❝ And  you’re  sure  about  this?  About  me?  ❞

It’s been the fifth time he’s asked her this week, and somewhere in the hundreds in his whole lifetime the question rose up. He watches her pause, dark hair brushed aside and tucked against her ear, and although she doesn’t look up at him, he can still see the faintest trace of a smile; tight-lipped and confident. She smiles wider and brighter now, unlike the way she did in the Circle, like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. One whole blight later and they’ve both changed so much.   ❝ Jowan,  if  I  wasn’t,  I  wouldn’t  have  come. ❞

His identity of “Master” Levyen only lasted so long, the survivors he traveled with began to suspect him, and with the Darkspawn gone there wasn’t much use for a ‘helpful’ apostate. Templars suspected foul play from the newly christened Hero of Ferelden, and, one thing hurtled into another. And now here they were, heading vaguely in the direction towards Vigil’s Keep. 

 ❝ I  forgave  you  a  long  time  ago,  for  that  one  day. They  would  have  killed  you  if  you  told me.  I … I  made  some  mistakes  too. ❞  She continues, and he notices her hands begin to wring against her thighs. The same nervous habit she’s had ever since she was young, a way to cast her thoughts somewhere else.  He knows what she means, he guessed what happened when he saw both the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter in the foyer two long years ago. But by the Maker, he misses Lily.He sighs, heavy with the guilt radiating from both of them. ❝ No, no! I  should  have  stayed, let  them  make  me  tranquil. It  would  have  been  better  than  what  they  going  to  do  to  you.. Or .. ❞ She’s quick enough to reach out to him, clasping his hand and pulling it towards her. Anger in her eyes, a static shock numbs the skin through his arm, he yelps but she doesn’t let go as she pulls him to her level.❝ And  I  would’ve  let  Uldred  burn  Kinloch  Hold  to  the  ground.  Fuck,  Jowan. I  don’t  have  anyone  left  from  the  Circle  to  care  about. ❞  Eira breathes, arching brows at him the way she does when she has a plan in mind. ❝ Besides.  You’ll  make  it  up  to  me. 

     Only  thing you’ll  need  to  do  is  survive  a  couple  of  drops  of  darkspawn  blood. ❞

#feohtn #▒ jowan ; redemption suits you. #this was going to be a circle drabble but i wanted to write about them meeting up after the blight #they make me so sad #▒ messages.

[oelfinessend]

just can’t handle it, must get round to it

Hello, @tsukiharu​. Here’s your secret santa step in. I’m incredibly sorry for the delay, but I was stranded away from decent coverage and electricity, and had to climb the roof to check my mail :/. Moreover, by the time you replied I’ve already began writing and while I certainly have ideas for your prompts they will take a while to write properly if you’d still want them. My attempt at arranged marriage and courtship has run away as early as the second page, so all I can do is give you this bizarre AU and hope you won’t hate me :[

Find the fic on <a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/13460478“>ao3</a> or in this post.

‘Greater than many you will fly.’ They wrote. ’Higher than your wildest dreams you will be taken.’ Was promised. ‘And for all will be price.’

Except Tony won’t fly and pay the price because he is Howard’s price, carelessly promised for many trinkets.

He knows it since before he can remember, that his father agreed to give away his own child for a chance to find Captain America.

He also knows that whatever his being a ‘price’ might entail so far it involves him being miserable, added with impressive substance abuse and whole weeks he spends in his workshop. Tony has his workshop only because of Obie, who allows him to invent, to think, to create. Aside from his bots and JARVIS, he can converse only with Obie and Rhodey. The staff is afraid of him and the world seems to be focused entirely on his every move, analysing the rare precedent of a prayer being answered.

Tony meets Pep like that. She masks her gentle curiosity and the following pity very well and later they disappear whatsoever, and for that he will be forever grateful. This is the lifeline that allows him to keep going, to live while Howard Stark becomes a husk of himself with eyes still burning with unholy fire, with the spite of the damned. He is a recluse, immersed in his projects that promise to drain the Stark fortune. SI is all but given to Obadiah who likes to lure Tony into his dealings and Tony hires a maddeningly competent Virginia Potts to be left  with the only thing he really cares about - making stuff.

Soon enough, Pep is involved in SI far more than she is in Tony’s life, which is understandable, and somehow Tony finds himself looking at his new assistant. The guy is standing right in his workshop, looking friendly and soft around the edges. Then it turns out it’s impossible to chase this intruder away, his soft edges are bullshit and soon Tony finds himself snarking back at Adam.

He’s awesome, that guy who grasps Tony’s jargon and ideas and keeps up and gives as good as he gets and doesn’t take any bullshit thrown at him. Adam is putting Tony on edge, though, the puzzle pieces never quite fitting and something always missing in the picture.

Two or so months of amazing creative process later, Tony is doodling idly, having just showered and eaten, because Adam is a prude and won’t go anywhere near if Tony ‘is not presentable’.

This is the day everything goes to shit, because Howard decides to show his zombie face an hour before Obie storms in, demanding to see Tony.

Obie narrows his eyes at Adam, demanding to state his identity, while Adam looks bored and unimpressed, which is his default expression. In fact, he looks unnervingly interested in Howard, which kinda makes Tony hate them both (and, as usual, hate himself, because what else could he have expected, what did he think, he could be interest-)

“Address me in that manner once more and your tongue shall be buried ahead of you.”

This is a growl and everything falls silent. Adam smiles his thin smile and cocks his head.

“Who are you?” This is the first time Tony’s heard his father speak in years and his voice is scratchy, low. His eyes are still unnerving, portraying his unyielding focus. Adam keeps on with being unimpressed, though, only moves and paces around Howard, looking him up and down.

“Midgard’s grown disrespectful since I’ve last visited it.” He muses and changes, just like that, his hair growing longer from its stylish cut, skin pales and eyes grow green, so bright that Tony can actually discern the colour from across the room. Then not-Adam is moving back towards Tony, his movements smoother, somehow more powerful and just as the transformation the fact that Tony isn’t scared is baffling. He is actually relieved. This is some closure, finally, to (not) Adam’s unnerving edge and clearly, the bullshit ‘price’ thing is coming to its end.

“Are you Adam?” Tony asks carefully, his lizard brain alarmed at that prowl.

Head cocked, eyes laughing, the man smiles. “I am Loki.” Is all he replies.

Loki. Tony knows that name, he’s spent countless hours reading on any supernatural being known to the Internet and Loki is… interesting. Not really appropriate, in Tony’s opinion and surprising, given Howard’s prayer.

Apparently satisfied with whatever reaction on Tony’s face he sees Loki smiles again and sprawls into a chair, impressively pulling off his almost whore-like posture. “Now you may leave us alone.” He addresses both Obie and Howard and both dig their heels.

“I’m not leaving Tony with whoever you are.” Obie intones darkly and Howard steps forward, looking almost feverish.

“Who are you to appear in my home and demand this after making me wait for so many years!” He almost shouts and his voice breaks slightly out of disuse.

Loki sighs irritably. “Mages of Asgard cannot break a prayer-bound promise. Your demand was heard and it was satisfied - your mind was clear and fast for many years, was it not?” He waves dismissively as Howard opens his mouth. “Don’t let your hubris blind you, mortal. No one on Midgard is able to go weeks without any sleep and yet your thinking was unhindered. Such was the blessing given to you. Whatever you decided to do with it concerns me not and I am beginning to tire of your presence.” He smiles at the procured indignation and turns to Obie. “And you don’t have to worry, mayhaps if the Fates favour us we can all go to Afghanistan.”

At that Obie pales strangely and seems to deflate. Looking bored, Loki switches his gaze to Tony. “This is getting ridiculous. I will await in your workroom.”

Left alone and gaping at the empty chair, Tony scrambles away from Howard’s burning glare and Obie’s thoughtful one. As stated, Loki is in his workshop, occupying his usual place with his newfound dramatic flair.

Loki patiently sits through Tony’s almost-meltdown and only blinks at the following barrage of questions. It happens that Loki is a prince and a mage (ha! Tony will need far more than a couple of parlor tricks to even contain his laughter, never mind taking this seriously) and the Head Seidrmaster in Asgard. It doesn’t really matter except that it totally does, because apparently Howard’s half-assed (by Loki’s standards) prayer reached one of those seidr-people and for whatever reason they decided to go along.

“A prayer gives a remarkable bout of power, of happiness.” Loki explains patiently, giving off surprisingly Pepper-like vibes. “An inexperienced mage has to be exceptionally strong of will to resist that. Uldr was not.”

Tony snorts. He doesn’t really care (he does, a little, Loki is a living story and also a lot of people would literally give their limb for a chance to talk to him).

“When I found out about the deal it was too late.” Loki purses his lips unhappily, eyes becoming hard. “And the duty of overseeing this fell to me.” He makes a vague gesture with his left hand. “I admit I have forgotten about the Midgardian lifespan and allowed myself to linger a bit too long.”

Tony huffs, asks about the lifespan thing and blinks at the answer. Five thousand Asgard’s years, Loki says, more for a mage. Asgard’s year is nearly four of Earth’s.

Talk about unimaginable scales, Tony honestly can’t comprehend the life where decades are nothing, where your milestones are hundreds.

His mind blanks out a bit at that and when Tony finally scrambles his brains back in order he finds himself alone.

There is very little time for him to begin feeling abandoned or offended because soon he hears the commotion. By the time Tony decides to investigate he is again in Loki’s company and for a change the other man looks pleased.

The following days are, for a lack of a better word, busy. Everyone has a lot to do; Howard is trying to pin Loki down and get something from him, Loki vanishes and appears as he pleases, his mood changing just as suddenly. Obie is suspiciously docile while Pep is busy arranging the business so that it belongs to Tony. That is a sudden development and apparently both Howard and Obie are okay with Loki basically telling them what to do. Well, not really, Howard is all of a sudden a lot more present in the mansion and Tony’s life. Tony is busy planning building his own tower where he will live as far from this gloomy place as possible. He discovers that managing a company is fucking hard, especially if you just basically got it and the attention he thought he is accustomed to is even more intense and seemingly every person in the world wants something from you.

Loki doesn’t help. In fact, Loki revels in the chaos, which is unsurprising, given his title. He refuses to accept numerous invitations or even pleas coming for him. At the same time, he somehow helps Tony, because navigating people is hard and Loki knows how it’s done. It’s pleasant, even, that change of pace and scenery, the constant challenge and, most importantly, the freedom. For the first time Tony is able to get out, to do as he chooses and give a finger to anyone objecting. Not always and not really, but he moves out and never looks back.

***

“What you are describing is marriage.” Tony says flatly, looking down at Loki. Which is only because he’s standing six feet higher, overseeing the construction of his tower. Because now he can build himself a fucking tower.

“Yes, in your language and culture that is the closest concept.” Loki allows and returns the look. He manages to stare Tony down, the fucker. “But you need to take into consideration that ‘the marriage’ as you know it is just the most long lived and respected form of union on Midgard, which is untrue for most of the other Realms. I’ve been married by Aesir customs, married twice.” He jumps to Tony, covering fifteen feet in one effortless leap. “What the All-Father demands is different.”

“I don’t care.”

Tony doesn’t, he doesn’t care about some medieval crap with predestiny and respectful unions.

“‘Medieval.’” Loki spits. “Your charming egotism will help in your business, I think.” He smiles toothily at Tony’s outraged grimace. “Your conservative and limited brain is so busy clutching at comforting concepts you can’t even hear me properly.”

“Conservative and limited?” Tony hisses in disbelief, because wow. “Explain how is your magic-bound shit is not limited? It was without my fucking consent and now I need to fucking marry you because some guy I don’t even believe exists says so!”

“Consent.” Loki snorts. “Don’t cheapen the word. Your father consented for you, as is your land’s custom. It can’t be marriage because I am not a lawful citizen of Midgard so this argument is obsolete. And it’s not marriage by the Asgard’s law, Anthony.”

“Yes, we are just bound by your voodoo shit and take responsibility for each other’s actions. Wow, that’s not marriage at all.”

Loki’s eyes narrow and face relaxes, which is beyond alarming, he’s on his way to being livid.

“Not by Asgard’s law.” He repeats in a soft, calm voice. “And what a hardship it will be, with that law not recognized on Midgard and as such you being a man free to pursue whatever fancy might strike you. Ah, what a burden to be protected by the royal House of Odin, to have an opportunity to learn the ways other realms live and evolve, to perfect your inventions in ways unimaginable to any on Midgard.” He gives a tender smile, which gives an unpleasant contrast to the offended fury of his glare. “But that’s a scientist’s reasoning, so what am I even thinking?”

And, because he loves having the last word, Loki disappears. Tony swears loudly and explicitly, hoping that the words will reach their target.

Loki doesn’t pop out the following day, or week, or month. Tony goes from scared to angry to repentant to offended to furious.

By the time the bastard decides to finally show his face the Tower is ready, a shiny, perfect thing better than anything Tony could’ve dream of. In a fit, tied in knots about Loki’s absence, he decided to stop with the weapons and now is busy dealing with the fallout. The press hounds him, Obie keeps throwing him dark looks and even always flawless Pep looks harried.

Tony arranges for a new PA and that is exactly when a timid-looking guy decides to throw a fucking grenade at him. Tony is too busy staring as the grenade is being disintegrated by a golden mist to hear the crunch of bones.

He looks up at Pep’s scream and follows the guy as he drops to Loki’s feet, his head turned almost 180. There’s a moment of silence and they are alone again, body vanishing along with Loki.

“You fucking motherfucker.” Tony growls, which is a bit lame, but whatever. What the fuck is he thinking, disappearing and then-

Loki is here again, with a loud, uncharacteristic noise. He looks at Pepper and throws another body at her feet.

“I though corporate espionage is against the law on Midgard.” He sneers, nudging at the woman. “Or do you invite killers willfully?”

Pepper, bless her, calms down immediately and peers down at the woman, who, Tony can see now, is alive and just unconscious.

“Are you bleeding?” Is what she asks next and Tony snaps his eyes higher. Loki’s lips press together and it brings out the unhealthy grayness of his face.

“Look out for her.” Is his reply.

“Wait a second.” Tony springs into action, cursing himself for standing there like an idiot. Loki picks up the woman and gives Tony an unimpressed stare.

“We need to talk”. Tony says quickly but it’s too late.

He curses again and turns away from Pep’s curious and pitying eyes.

Fucker, selfish fucker, that Loki.

Tony doesn’t bother with goodbye, just goes to his fabulous penthouse and pulls the feed. He tells himself it’s purely to learn who wants him dead but in truth he concentrates on Loki as he appears in a burst of sparks and grasps the man’s head, long fingers sure, experienced. Loki sways a little as he pick the body up and sways again when he reappears with the woman - who Tony needs to investigate also - and Loki’s never swayed, even when he played his part as Adam.

He hates himself for the fact that all of his anger and indignation disappear and now there is only worry and brittle hope, stronger than ever, because Loki protected him, he obviously came because that golden thingy alerted him and the fact that Tony was, err, spelled, apparently, is a bit condescending but mostly returns the warmth missing since after their last conversation.

Tony hates that he is mostly okay with the weird not-really-marriage thing because it will give him an added leverage to pin Loki down and explore other planets, fuck that, other star systems, Tony was really having a childish reaction. Maybe he needed the time to stew and think this shit over, who knows. Now he just hopes that Loki’s alright and comes back soon. He chases the thoughts of ‘six months are nothing to his fifteen thousand years, he can disappear for a year this time’ away with effort. Tony hopes.

“Sir.” JARVIS wakes him gently. “Sir, you have a guest.”

“Whatever.” Tony yawns, tries to stretch his neck.

“It’s Mr Odinson.” J says with a hint of gentle reproach and Tony bolts out of his chair.

“The living room, sir.” JARVIS provides.

Loki is standing in front of the glass wall (because Tony’s had enough of the mansion’s semi-darkness), cutting an impressive figure against the windows. For the first time he’s dressed in not Earth’s clothes. There is a lot of leather and what looks like gold designs on his boots and sleeves.

At Tony’s steps Loki turns around, revealing more gold on his high collar and what looks like a stylized breastplate. He looks kinda like the prince he claims to be.

“You needed to talk.” Loki says evenly, keen eyes watching as Tony moves forward and politely looks at Loki’s face and not his alien clothes.

“Yeah, well.” This is so uncomfortable, fuck. “Want a drink?”

After a moment of consideration Loki inclines his head. His gaze presses on Tony as he moves to the bar and waves in the direction of the couch, hoping the gesture is welcoming and effortless, not dismissive.

Loki is surprisingly omnivorous so Tony takes a decanter of whiskey, because there’s no way he’s living through this conversation sober. By the time he makes it to the chair Loki’s already settled, more collected than his usual sprawl of limbs.

“I have conversed with JARVIS briefly.” Loki starts and Tony, who was just a second ago busy manning up to apologize, is blindsided a bit. “He has new servers and capacity, isn’t he better as your assistant?”

The question is voiced with a gentle curiosity, which is very polite, and Tony hates it. He snorts and waves his glass.

“But I programmed J and I can silent him. That’s sometimes counterproductive.”

He waits for a snort or a derisive smile at ‘counterproductive’, but it never comes and Tony frowns. “C’mon, what’s with that diplomatic stuff?” He can’t quite bring himself to apologize, not because he doesn’t feel guilty, but because- Tony doesn’t even know himself.

Loki’s eyes are unnaturally green and very bright.

“What do you wish to talk about?”

Honestly, sincerely, Tony just can’t. What the fuck is up with that bastard?

“What do you think? Where were you, why the fuck did you just leave and didn’t bother to, I don’t know, visit and rant at me? What’s that misty thing and what the fuck did it do to a grenade? Why weren’t the pen Pep threw at me three weeks ago misted away? Are you alright? Because you didn’t look all that great just this morning. Where did you take that guy and I really want to investigate, you know, my attempted assassination. And is all that shit with not-marriage still valid or  you just decided to fuck off for good?”

Loki’s brows shoot up at that last part and admittedly Tony has revealed a bit more than he intended.

“Hmm.” Loki visibly relaxes, his body sprawling more and face more open. He looks up. “In order: I think there are multiple questions you want to talk about, I have left because there were too many hurtful words on my mind and some blows are easy to make and hard to recover from.” Loki’s eyes are heavy under his slight frown. “I had no desire to make a visit for a quarrel and I have duties I needed to attend to on top of that. I left a protection spell working and it is somewhat sentient so it couldn’t react violently to the Lady Pepper’s pen. I am well, the alert came in a bit of situation but the Aesir are more resilient than you of Midgard and any wounds I received are healed by now. Your assailant's body is kept for future purposes and the union still needs to take place.”

“Somewhat sentient?” Tony repeats and forces himself back on track. “Well, thanks for holding back, I suppose.” He doesn’t know what to say. Tony feel stupidly grateful for that, shit, he is angry but he’s also glad that Loki didn’t eviscerate him, because he very well can, both with words and, apparently, with his bare hands, fuck. Tony just knows that he’s most likely will rewatch the footage of this evening when Loki leaves. With that thought in mind he blurts. “Are you staying over? There’s a floor for you.”

He wants to disappear as soon as he says that, but Loki brightens a bit, not a hint of derision on his face. “A floor for me?” He smiles, but it’s a pleased smile.

“Yeah, well, aren’t you a prince?” Tony tries for lighthearted. It was a foregone thing in his planning, even after Loki decided to hide his face, that there would be a place for him, and what a joke to give a guest room when Tony has the whole Tower and it’s Loki.

“Show me.” Loki says, as he always has, when he was Adam and demanded to know everything about Tony’s work and when he is Loki and wants to know everything about Tony’s life.

Loki likes his floor, which is a bit strange, because Tony had no idea what to do with the interior and left it as it is - bare walls, which makes him a bit of a dumbass to invite a guest to sleep on cement floor.

Still, Loki is obviously pleased. “Ah, and can I raise the walls as I see fit?”

Tony shrugs at that, because whatever. “You have to let me get J’s sensors here, though.”

“I’m afraid my seidr will intervene with their workings anyway, but I’ll think of something if that’s necessary.” Loki allows, making a dismissive gesture and successfully making every wall disappear. Tony blinks at the sudden illusion of low ceiling and turns around in light panic. Thankfully, the elevator is still present.

“Are you competing with the palace of Asgard, Anthony?” Loki asks with a smile as he steps around, looking back and forth. There are multiple shiny balls springing from his hands and floating around and giving the surroundings a warm hue.

“I’m Tony Stark.” Tony huffs in reply, which sounds a bit stupid but Loki nods in understanding. Then he makes a forceful step, more like a stomp and the space begins to morph.

In a matter of minutes they are standing in an inviting hall, with light walls and ceiling adorned with what looks like multiple polished crystals. Loki disappears into a wide, large arc of pale stone and by the time Tony catches up the next room is transformed also, there is a large black bowl in the middle, made of what appears to be semi-transparent rock.

“Is it one of your customs?” Tony calls while Loki is busy creating low padded stools or something. At the inquiring glance Tony shrugs and motions at the bowl. “I know you are not vikings but you must drink a lot.” The bowl is easily seven feet in diameter.

Loki looks uncommonly bewildered then he huffs. “It’s a fireplace, Anthony.”

“A- A what? It’s not a fireproof room!”

He receives an impressive eye roll in reply. Loki settles on a very soft-looking seat and gives Tony one last dirty look before dumping firewood and with a snap of fingers there is fire. Bright golden light which lights the bowl from the inside, making it rich red with deep blue streaks running roots-like from the bottom of the bowl.

“There will be no smoke.” Loki says, looking at the ceiling intently. There is nothing to see for a mortal eye but aside from pleasant warmth there is no smell or other sign of open fire. Tony settles closer to Loki and stares at the crackling fire.

“You can’t create matter.” He says at last because he can’t really think of anything else.

“Of course not.” Loki replies. “The law of Universe doesn’t work like that.”

“Right. Because you knew physics so well.”

It was Tony who had to explain everything to him, even if Loki is an exceptionally fast learner.

“Oh, do be more condescending. I never learned Midgard’s sciences and why would I? You have only recently began to get closer to understanding the world around you, while Svartalfar scholars knew how to create local singularities long before the birth of eucumene.” Loki snorts gently at the last word. “To be able to change the Universe at will one must understand how it works; to apply pressure at exactly the right point in the exact amount. This is what a mage is, and magic as you so charmingly laugh at is nothing like what I grew up learning. We do not deal in toad hearts or whatever your tales concocted. We study the workings of seidr and the World Tree and work with the knowledge we gather, we do not hope for a result.”

“So. Still physics.” Tony grins at Loki’s huff and nudges a bit closer. “And what were you doing? How did you make all this stuff?”

“I did not make the fireholder. I fetched it from my workroom, such items are not created overnight. Mostly I just rearranged the matter residing here. There will be more work to make the floor to my liking, but it will do for now.”

“Wow, your mageness, you’re easy to please.” Tony gives the bare room a telling look and grins. He missed this.

“I slept on bare stone or wet shore many a time. This is no hardship.”

“Sure, Loki Grills, as you say.” Then, after a pause, Tony itches again. “So, you can take whatever you want from wherever?”

Loki scrunches his nose. “I need to be familiar with the place and with the item in question; my workroom is imbued with my seidr, it’s the place I know the best in all the Realms, as such concentrating on it and reaching out is no hardship. Otherwise it’s easier to shift somewhere and extract what is needed by hand. Small items I carry around.” He makes a smooth gesture rotating his wrist and there is a bottle in his hand.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket dimension?” Tony asks, because. Because.

“You call it that, yes.” Loki nods. “But it’s more like a cluster of bends in space, individual for each item. It’s easier that way.”

Tony blinks at him, what the fuck, you bastard, how could you- it hits him suddenly that Loki’s been teleporting this whole time and apparently Tony’s been so deep in denial that he wrote it off as some bullshit pseudo-god power, but no, Loki has just been bending time and space and leaping light years away and back with just a thought.

“Do it again!” Tony demands, hopping closer and concentrating solely on Loki’s hands. He has a moment to hate himself for sounding like an eager kid (he feels like an eager kid, but that’s a heartbreak for another time), then Loki lifts both hands and makes a flowing, rotating gesture, then grasps as a book appears out of thin air. He passes it to Tony, who takes it with a rare reverence.

The book is solid. Quite heavy for its size, no thicker than Tony’s thumb and bound in an unknown material with three clasps made of dull red metal. They are completely smooth without a hint of a slit and flow into the cover seamlessly.

Maybe the questions are apparent on Tony’s face, because Loki reaches and expertly flicks open the clasps.

“This is my latest, ah,” he frowns, looking for the word, “dissertation, you might say. It’s a standard protection for spell-filled writings, they can be violent without proper containment.”

Tony feels like Harry Potter, only rich and insanely smart and having not mumbo-jumbo words but extraphysics in front of him. Some pages are nothing but symbols and they are obviously words but there are often blocks of completely different symbols. Sometimes there are diagrams, one page opens by itself and Loki has to slap it and burn the drawing back into the page. The lines make Tony’s brain hurt a bit because they are clearly not even three-dimensional.

“Enough.” Loki says gently and takes the book back. He slaps it closed with force and the clasps morph together. Tony wants it back, his own, science fairytale literally in his hands.

The book disappears again and instead Loki holds Tony’s favorite mug. He turns it around in his hands, drums his fingers along the rim and then gives it to the owner.

“Here.” He says with a slight smile. “It will contain four times its measure of liquid and will keep it of starting temperature.”

Tony stares at him of a moment, then his gaze snaps to the unassuming (and now very clean, of course) mug, then back. Then Tony frantically looks around, but of course there is nothing here and he bolts to the elevator. The crystals in the first hall twinkle in rhythm with their gentle shift in brightness but Tony sees and hears none, he is busy tearing down to his kitchen and firing commands at Jarvis, who is not very pleased at having a whole floor basically cut out from his reach.

“Later, J.” Tony promises as he dumps iced water into the mug and watches it disappear. The bottom of the mug is foggy and Tony can’t see where and how the water goes but after a while it begins to fill and then he dumps the water in the sink, watching as it flows.

It’s not a real science test, but Tony is still feeling like a kid and he feels ridiculously happy, as if he’s received a gift he asked but didn’t believe he’d get. Except he couldn’t even ask for that, that casual, fast and effortless bending of all the laws he knows.

“It will contain solid objects according to its visible size and expel the dirt after a while.” Loki says from behind Tony, startling the man. “For safety concerns I spelled it unbreakable in usual circumstances, but be aware that upon destruction the contained space will enlarge and then implode, affecting at least seven feet of surroundings. Concentrating laser on it will most likely result in destruction.”

Tony gapes at him and carefully places the mug on the counter. Suddenly he can see the awkwardness in Loki, in the way he stands and patiently waits for the reaction, his face relaxed but eyes alert and ready. Tony doesn’t know what it is Loki is preparing himself for, doesn’t want to know why he is so uncomfortable with giving gifts but there is too much in his chest to contain so he dives forward and gives Loki a hug.

It’s an awkward thing, marred by Tony’s indignation at Loki’s too tall frame and the fact that he isn’t used to being physical, but it beats talking about problems, so Tony grasps at the soft texture of Loki’s jacket and after a moment a hand is placed carefully on his shoulder. It doesn’t press him closer but neither is it pulling him back so that’s a win.

From that point on it’s like the floodgates are open and Tony can’t stop reaching out and touching. It takes some time to notice and some more time to analyse and in the end it’s Jarv who concludes that it’s most likely that sir’s actions are a result from severe touch starvation. Well, that explains it.

Actually, no, it doesn’t explain Tony’s childlike joy when the whole business with the ‘union’ is explained properly, doesn’t explain a sneaky thought at the back of his mind that Loki can’t really go away and abandon Tony. It’s an unpleasant arrangement in concept but does Tony care? Not in the least, not anymore. From what he saw Loki enjoys his company and it’s very much reciprocated, so that’s it.

The whole ordeal is far less impressive than Tony’s expected, what with Loki’s title and big words about magic. There is the teleportation (which is severely unpleasant on what feels like molecular level) and Loki’s determined eyes as he takes Tony’s hand and places it on a warm bluish panel in a column of solid black stone.

“Recognized.” A solemn woman nods and a dozen of figures go on their business. That’s it, the big thing Loki was raving about is summed in a couple of seconds, because ‘of course, Anthony, the ceremony or any redundant flair is harmful to the dealings of seidr’ (so cute, there is not redundant flair).

Tony has much larger things to concentrate on, like for example the strong possibility that his sexuality has taken an abrupt one eighty and there is a whole list of moments normal at first but which are constantly on the back on his mind, like milestones leading to the inevitable.

There was that awkward hug in his kitchen, the first time Loki laughed freely, that day they spent under the invisibility spell, the purple spires of Svartalfheim, Loki’s hunting outfit and his dress armor which to be fair Tony has seen maybe a fraction of a second, because he kinda needed help for his latest experiment and was exploiting his right to call. Loki wasn’t impressed and left immediately; Tony pulled the feed to try and catch the moment of his arrival and, well. He wasn’t aware Asgard’s fashion trends tended towards ‘obscene’ or ‘obscenely revealing’.

Despite the numerous willing women he’s picked up in blatant protest, Tony feels wrong-footed somehow, unable to even recognize his attraction. He knows he’s getting clingier, abusing Loki’s goodwill and patience, but it’s just good. Tony will stop as soon as he’s told to, until then, he’ll take what he can.

This stellar plan is destroyed by the betrayal of Tony’s own body. He’s busy listening to Loki explaining how their flying ships work, maintaining just enough brainpower to ask appropriate questions now and then, while most of the focus is directed at the way Loki’s chest expands on inhales and rumbles when he speaks. After a while there is a pause and Loki says, “Is that particular topic arousing or are you just in the mood?”

Tony freezes, but it’s too late, he’s pressed himself close so thoroughly that there is no way for misinterpretation. For a couple of agonizing moments he keeps still in a childish hope that if he wishes for it hard enough it will all disappear - his boner, Loki’s attention and the fact that he can’t even jerk off properly anymore, because there is one person on his mind and he’s afraid of mind reading.

Not getting an answer Loki simply lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder, a heavy, grounding presence and it’s electrifying. At the resulting shudder, the mage exhales softly.

“Or there is that.” He says nonsensically and his hand travels to Tony’s jawbone, a steady torture. Loki’s eyes are always attentive, but this is something else; in the back of Tony’s mind there is a thought that their position is ridiculous and more than resembling covers for numerous trash romantic novels the maids used to read and think their hid so well. Then Loki kisses and Tony comes alive, scrambling forward a bit to align them better and put his hands everywhere at once. He doesn’t know what he wants but that apparently it was a bit too long and if there isn’t sex in the immediate future there would be violence.

Only Loki delivers, oh he does; it is an interesting experience to be the one pampered and indulged: the prep takes hours, literally, and afterwards Tony just lies in a fucked out haze, carding his fingers through Loki’s hair lazily.

It’s a pity his brain doesn’t really shut up for long and soon he twitches restlessly, making the body above stir. Loki frowns down in disapproval, the usual sharpness of his gaze tempered. Tony grins and it’s most likely that his grin is dopey but who cares.

“Can we have science pillow talk? Because that’s the best and about those ships-”

Loki springs into action, one second he is giving Tony an Unimpressed Eyebrow, all relaxed and pliant, the next the mage is crouching over, eyes intent, promising. The kiss he delivers is no less brain-numbing than the first one and Tony pants a little, feeling, to his horror, the beginnings of erection.

“Are you going to kill me with sex? I’m not sure I’ll live through it right now.” Sure, Loki is a master of edging and he makes the torment totally worth it and more, but there are things mortal men are just not able to do.

“Oh, well, we’ll have to do something about that.” Loki shrugs a little, smug and unrepentant; he doesn’t take things further, though, just pins Tony with his weight and frowns a bit.

“I must admit I intended to kill you initially.”

There we go, away with that arousal, thank you, Loki.

“Um, what?”

The mage shrugs minutely. “It seemed like a mercy to us both; I had no intention to be shackled to some mortal imbecile and you are too fragile and young to take to the court.” He makes a pause, visibly fighting with the following words. “Good thing you are not what I expected.”

“Aww.” Tony drawls, immediately relaxing. Maybe he’s spent too much time with the bastard, or maybe he’s just wired wrong but he accepts the admission for what it is: it’s silly to expect different logic from Loki, thousands years old warrior and diplomat of warriors. “I’m so charming the tall, dark and murderous decided against offing me.”

“Am I not handsome?” Loki sniffs, but he smiles a bit, eyes bright and more relaxed than ever.

“You know you are, I’m not feeding your ego. Seriously though, that’s some Twilight shit.” Tony laughs and laughs more when he receives a gentle bite in reprimand. “Yes, I managed to snatch a magical immortal rich prince! That calls for screen adaptation with inaccurate portrayal of sex. I’m too fabulous for a bland cast, though.” He grins unabashedly at Loki’s restrained mirth. “Also, I have multiple MIT degrees and hold patents for most of SI’s innovations, but that’s all trivia.”

“Oh, yes, clearly I was struck with a sense of Fate.” Loki adds wryly.

“Uh-huh. And spent so much time in disguise because you are adorably shy. Shy will do instead of you snapping necks with your bare hands and returning from hunts covered in blood and guts.”

“That happens rarer than you are inclined to think.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean you make a pretty sight.” Tony hums, absurdly happy and content. “On that matter, why Adam?”

Loki blinks in silent question.

“I mean, there is a perfectly acceptable Luke, for example.”

“Luke.” Loki deadpans. “If we ever go in disguise anywhere on Midgard I’ll make sure to create an appropriate alias, Tommy.”

Tony scrunches his nose. Like that, it does sound stupid. “Point taken. So you just picked up a random name?”

“Pretty much, Toby.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ahaha, the initial draft was around 20 000 words of disjoined notes dealing with shit I have no patience towards now, like Obadiah, Iron Man armor, Howard, Fury, Natasha, Shield, Loki-Jotun thing, Asgard, Egyptian and Greek deities (I just threw it away, because fleshing out at the beginning stages was just under 6000 words and I’m just, eeeeeh, deadline, Oel). Yes, I thought of it. No, I couldn’t fit it all in without it taking a couple of months and growing into multi-chap. One day, maybe, who knows.  

#fge2017 #my fics #frostiron #loki/tony stark

[massgrav]

I'd whip myself with razorwire for you If you'd only promise to kiss my wounds.

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Please enlarge for full resolution! ^^

#muse: #jowan #from #dragon age origins #implied #jowan/uldred #ropeart #rope #lyrics: the devil's blood - I'll be your ghost #traditional art #digital editing #mixed media #fan art #dragon age

[ellenembee]

The Revelation of All Things - 39. In which blooming hearts bring deeper harmony

Read the full fic on AO3.

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Cullen took the steps slowly. If she were truly asleep, he wanted to be as quiet as possible. He knew how to walk quietly when necessary, but his armor still emitted soft clinks as he climbed toward her room. He grimaced at the sounds as reached her outer door, and after a moment of indecision, he removed his armor, moving slowly to minimize the sounds. Once he’d taken off all but his tunic, breeches and boots, he quietly unlocked the door and eased up the stairs.

Slowing his steps, he approached the still form underneath heavy blankets. He had no desire to disturb her, but he ached to simply be near her. He walked around and knelt beside the bed to study her face in the darkening room. Dusk had fallen early, as was typical in the mountains, but the final glow of the setting sun left him just enough light to take in her serene but exhausted expression. Suddenly, the weight of their task, the weight of his own duties and the ones he knew she carried, felt unbearable. He couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped his lips.

Suddenly, one eye cracked open, and then both her vivid eyes were staring at him as a small smile curved her lips. His heart gave a jolting thump, and he grinned like a fool in response.

“Oh, it’s you,” she breathed.

“I… I just came to check on you,” he explained, his cheeks flaming from being caught so blatantly staring. “I thought you were asleep.” “I just laid down for a nap when I heard someone come in… Someone from the kitchen I suppose. They left a tray and built up the fire. I didn’t want to frighten whoever it was, so I pretended to be asleep. Then you came.”

Cullen lifted himself off the floor and sat next to her on the side of the bed. He wanted to touch her, but he wasn’t sure how - or if - he should. As if in answer to his unspoken question, she threw the covers off, sat up and snaked her arms around his neck. He gladly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Her muffled whisper caused his heart to thump painfully against his ribs once again.

“I missed you so.”

“And I you,” he responded quietly. “But you said that last night.”

“I can only say it once?” she inquired with a little laugh. “Besides, I wasn’t sure if that was just a dream.”

He laughed and pulled her closer as he tried to shut out the doubt and exhaustion that plagued him by replaying her gentle words in his head. A small, involuntary tremor ran through his body as he recalled holding her in the night. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d fallen asleep with her body pressed snugly against his.

“It was no dream. I hope I didn’t wake you when I left.”

“No. When… when did you leave?”

“Later than I should have - it was nearly dawn.”

Just in time to get out of her quarters relatively undetected. He’d met a few early risers on his way through the courtyard, but none of them said anything - not to his face, anyway. A little more gossip to feed the fire, he supposed. That small part of him that preferred privacy was overruled by the much larger part of him that had reveled in the few short hours he’d held her and slept soundly with no nightmares to interrupt his slumber.

He was roused from his musings and let out a short puff of air as he felt her lips ghost across the hollow of his neck. Her voice came again, still a little muffled, but louder this time.

“Where’s your armor, Commander?”

He smiled into her hair. “At the bottom of the stairs. I didn’t want to wake you with all that clanking metal. It seems I needn’t have bothered.”

“But I’m glad you did. It’s far nicer to feel you instead of plate metal.”

“I can’t argue with that,” he murmured. He paused briefly, then added, “Thank you for collecting the letters.”

She let out a short laugh. “You’re very welcome.”

Her breath fanned his neck as she sighed contentedly. Feeling her soft body molded against him, he marveled at how she fit so perfectly with him - as if they were puzzle pieces snapping together. Had the Maker designed them for each other? To be brought together by this trial? It seemed ridiculous to think so, and yet she was his perfect counterbalance in so many ways. Where he was rough and harsh, she was kind and forgiving. Where he was weak, she bolstered him - she had faith in him. He was quick to anger and even vengeful at times, but she was the embodiment of patience.

Yet what did he give her in return? What had he to offer? She’d said that he understood her like no one else. Perhaps he did, but was it enough? He was not worthy of her, that much he knew for sure. And yet he’d selfishly claimed her anyway. Words and deeds spanning more than a decade pushed down on his consciousness - a deep hate for mages that had taken years to overcome, a stringent belief in a black and white world in which templars were a force of good and a fervent denial of the abuses happening all around him. The dream, now more than a week behind him, still haunted his thoughts. Would he have cared for her five years ago? Even three years ago?

And you still need to tell her about the Ferelden Circle… about Uldred. He held her tighter, and another tremor flowed through his body as the horrors he’d buried away long ago threatened to resurface.

“What is it, ma vhenan?”

She hadn’t pulled away, yet, but he could feel her grasp loosening. He drew long, deep breaths as he tightened his arms around her and tried to calm the panic, tried to pull himself out of the dark thoughts. She let out a small huff at his crushing grip and gently pushed away from him. He mumbled an apology, letting his arms fall limply around her. He barely held in a groan as he read the concern written all over her face when she pulled back to look at him.

“Please, tell me?”

He ducked his head and rested his forehead on her shoulder, still breathing deeply. Her hand came up to hold the back of his neck, caressing him as if attempting to sooth him with his own nervous gesture. Another wave of self-loathing and unworthiness pushed up from inside and threatened to overwhelm him. How could he tell her? She already carried so much. She didn’t need to carry his insecurities as well. He would not be a burden to her.

Her head dropped until their cheeks met. He tried to force the emotions back down inside - down where they belonged - but her soft “Cullen?” stopped him. Even if he couldn’t speak now, he couldn’t keep shutting her out like this. Unbidden, a ghost of a thought, of words that weren’t his own, echoed in his head: Uldred marked you but didn’t make you. You stayed you. He shuddered again.

“I can’t speak of it… not… not yet… But I… may I just hold you?”

She took a deep breath and put her hands on either side of his face. He let her gently lift his face until they were looking into each other’s eyes.

“Of course,” she replied with a quiet conviction even his irrational fears couldn’t deny. “I love nothing more than being in your arms.”

Then she wrapped her arms around him once again and simply held him. Her words soothed his anxiety and calmed his fears. She wanted to be with him. She cared for him. Maker only knew why, but it was her choice, too. And she’d chosen him.

He drew a tremulous breath and suddenly pulled her out from under the covers and onto his lap. Burying his head in her neck, he inhaled deeply of the heady blend of flowers and her own particular earthy fragrance. Instead of being drawn into his dark thoughts, he let her presence and the soft caresses of her hands against his neck and shoulders comfort him. He would work harder to be worthy of her. Perhaps someday he could actually be the man she deserved. For now, this was enough.

A calmness settled over them as he closed his eyes and matched his breathing with hers. He couldn’t say how long they sat entwined, but when he opened his eyes, they were enveloped in darkness. He raised his head and let out a long sigh. Leaving her seemed harder each time he had to do it.

“I should return to work.”

A muffled “hmmphf” was her only response as she tightened her arms around him. He let out a breathy laugh.

“I have much to do - and you need to rest. Tomorrow, the work begins. Though I’ve heard you spent today finishing reports?”

“A few.”

“Or all of them?”

Her lips feathered across his neck. He willed his body to remain still as she responded, “Maybe.”

“You’re not good at the resting thing, are you?”

“Not when there’s work to be done. And neither are you.”

Cullen had to laugh at that. “I feel like we’ve had a similar conversation before.”

She pressed her lips firmly into his neck, then nipped at his skin. Despite his attempt at control, he shivered.

“We have. It was about sleeping more.”

“Ahh… yes,” he responded, keeping his voice steady with great effort. “I recall now. We agreed that neither of us would get what we wanted.”

She kissed his neck again, this time a little further up. “Mmmm-hmmmm.”

“Evana…”

He’d meant it to come out as a playful warning, but it came out a breathless plea instead. She took that as encouragement and trailed kisses up his neck, her warm, soft mouth setting fire to his senses with each press of her lush lips. He only had a moment to curse his lack of discipline before his desire for her cleared all other thoughts from his head. Dragging in shallow, tremulous breaths, he let his hands begin to wander across her back and sides, and she sighed lustily into his skin.

She’d been gone so long, he’d started to become used to the dull ache in his chest. With her here, however, he felt so full - of love and of gratitude and of all the things he wanted to say to her. He suddenly wondered how he’d ever survived without her in his life. Maker, what would he do if she…

Her lips danced over his skin with delightful pressure and distracted him from his thoughts. He swept his hands up her ribs, his thumbs brushing over the outer edges of her breasts. Her breath quickened against his skin, and she arched her back into him. Her mouth had nearly reached his ear, but he could wait no longer. He turned his head and claimed her lips with the force of a man too long denied. The feel of her came back to him then - the wet lushness of her lips under his, the soft give of her body under his roving fingers, the small whimpers at the back of her throat as he nibbled her lower lip with his teeth. She opened up to him, and he delved into her, eager to taste her sweetness again.

She tasted of herbs - of mint. He vaguely registered it must have been her healing tea. The thought took hold, however, as his more coherent self admonished that she was still recovering from an unknown reaction. He half-heartedly tried to pull away, but her lips followed him. The heat of her body against his fought with his better judgment, and he allowed her to move off his lap and kneel on the bed beside him. Wrapping his arms fully around her waist to pull her against him again, he lifted his face, and she pressed her lips against his forcefully as her hands alternately caressed his face, neck, shoulders and back, intoxicating him with her passionate response.

Soft fabric caught on his calluses as he kneaded his fingers into her back and hips. The crackle of fabric under his hands only heightened his awareness of her every curve, and his hand skimmed down over her bottom to the back of her thighs and up again. The blood rushed in his ears as he began to move faster - pulling her closer, deepening the kisses, letting his hands come dangerously close to those places he burned to touch.

Warning bells went off in the back of his head, but he didn’t want to stop… Even if he couldn’t tell her now, he could show her how he felt… he could just lay her down and… and… Maker, just a little bit more…

Suddenly, she dragged her lips away from his and laughed breathlessly. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me. I shouldn’t have started that… not here… I mean…” She laughed again and draped her arms over his shoulders, giving him a chagrinned look. “I just missed your touch… your presence… Have I mentioned that I missed you?”

He slid his hands up from dangerous territory to her hips and rested his forehead against her cheek as he attempted to calm his breathing. Unable to help himself, his fingers kneaded into the sensuous dimples on her lower back even as his palms rested on her sides. He marveled again at how small and delicate she seemed. It was a dangerous mistake for her enemies, but here in this darkened room, on her bed, she was even more dangerous to him and his fraying self control. He smiled wryly to himself. How did she manage to strip away his tried and tested iron will in a matter of minutes?

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “It’s not as if I resisted… I mean, it’s not as if I don’t want… to… to… ah…” He laughed wryly, a hand rising up to rub at his neck as he leaned back to look at her. “I only tried to pull away because I remembered you were ill.”

“Hmmmm… I’m feeling much better. I should probably get more sleep, though. And… you said you have work to do?”

“Um… yes. I have much to do to prepare for the peace talks. Leliana and I have nearly completed the details, but I’d like to double check our numbers and go over orders with the soldiers…”

Cullen realized he was suddenly talking about Inquisition matters and blushed. He’d done exactly what he’d warned Leliana against.

“Err… I didn’t really mean to talk about business…”

“I started it, ma vhenan. I’ve been a little under the weather, but I know there’s still much to be done.”

Cullen shook his head in the dark. “But no more for you tonight.”

“Agreed, as long as you promise to go to sleep at a decent hour.”

“I will do my very best.”

In the dim glow of the firelight, he saw her arch an eyebrow at him. Nevertheless, she bent her head to gently kiss him again before climbing over him and offering him a hand up. The gesture was comical, but he placed his hand in hers anyway. She tugged, and when he stood up off the bed, he was reminded forcefully of their size difference.

“To be clear, I don’t want you to leave,” she murmured. “I just know you have to.”

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead as she looked up at him. “I know the feeling. If there were anyone else who could do what you do, I’d send them out to close all the rifts and keep you here. Just to… just to have you always near me.” Bending down, he kissed her deeply before letting her go. “Now, back into bed, Your Worship.”

“But I was going to-”

“You need rest. Your Commander commands you back to bed. I know where the door is and… you’ll only distract me if you follow me down the stairs.” She huffed a little, so he swept her up into his arms and kissed her again. “You know exactly what I mean.”

She hummed contentedly as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

He reached down to pull back the covers and deposited her gently on the bed. “Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight, ma vhenan. I hope you sleep well.”

Bending down for one final kiss, he moved away from the bed and took the stairs as quickly as possible. He managed to lock the door and put his armor on in the dark - many early mornings had taught him how to do it by feel. Then, he descended the rest of the stairs to the main hall. Crossing through the hall and Solas’ office, he reached his own office to find one of Leliana’s messengers waiting patiently at his own locked door.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh, Commander, ser… yes. Leliana requested I wait here for your report on the Inquisitor’s condition.”

“The Inquisitor is fine.”

The messenger hesitated as Cullen turned away to unlock his door. “Uh… is that… is that all?”

Cullen didn’t bother to hide his frustration. Leliana was still teasing him… through one of her messengers no less. Classic.

“Yes, that is all. Good evening,” he growled.

“Um… very good… yes… Good evening, Com-”

Cullen slammed the door closed before the messenger had even finished speaking.

**

The next day, they met briefly to review Evana’s progress in the Western Approach as well as the content of the letters she’d retrieved from the Emerald Graves.

Cullen moved a piece to the Orlais section of the map. “It looks like the red lyrium is coming from the Emprise du Lion. We’ve sent scouts to the area and should hear back within the next few days. It’s not something we can act on right now, but it will be good to keep tabs on activity. Perhaps once we deal with the peace talks and Grey Wardens, we can focus attention on crippling the red templars.”

Leliana nodded. “I agree that we’ll need to wait. It’s hard to prioritize these things, but at least the red templars are a known threat. Demon armies and entire countries thrown into chaos simply must take precedence.”

Evana nodded, a sardonic smile on her lips. “Pick your battles, as they say. So, shall we begin with the most imminent danger? I can’t wait to practice being smug and uppity.”

Cullen tried in vain to hold back his laughter and ended up letting out a quiet but undignified snort. Evana couldn’t hold back a grin as she turned to him, and they shared a mutual look of amusement. Josephine, however, was not amused.

“Laugh all you like, you two, but this is important. It could spell doom for southern Thedas if Orlais falls into chaos.”

Cullen mumbled an apology while fighting down his grin and heard Evana do the same.

Josephine, somewhat placated, continued, “Leliana and I will take turns practicing scenarios with you for the next few days. We’ll also need to update you on court gossip from the last few weeks. Are you ready to begin?”

Evana took a deep breath and nodded. “Lead the way, Josie.”

They filed out of the war room, and Cullen gave her a quick smile and head tilt as he left Josephine’s office. She returned his smile before Leliana and Josephine captured her attention.

For the next few days, Cullen barely saw her - not that he would have had much time to give her even if she’d been available. The other advisors kept her busy late into the night, and she apologized to him the second day, then again the third and fourth days, for missing their nightly tea. They’d also talked of him teaching her more about chess, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. He did miss it all - missed seeing her - but simply knowing she was there and within a short walk of him if he really needed to see her was comforting.

And he did enjoy the once or twice a day she’d taken to sneaking away to have a “break” with him. After the resulting gossip from their first kiss on the battlements, she’d requested a more secluded spot. The top of the second gate tower, yet to be renovated and close by, hid them from the prying eyes of Skyhold. Their breaks were always much too short, but he came to look forward to the stolen moments in which she greeted him with open arms and warm lips. By the fourth day - after collecting his gloves off the half rotted wood roof at the end of each encounter and even forgetting them completely once - he’d taken to leaving his gloves on his desk when he went to meet her.

The morning of the fifth day came early as they packed up and headed out on horseback. Evana had chosen to bring Cassandra, Cole and Dorian with her. She’d expressed concern in their final meeting at bringing someone from Tevinter, but Leliana had assured her that Dorian’s standing in Imperium society would be enough to keep the nobles from behaving too badly around him or harming their already tenuous standing with the court. Besides, Leliana and Josephine hoped to have the influential Madam de Fer joining them as well, which would greatly improve court opinion.

His mind briefly wandered back to their plan to infiltrate the Winter Palace. Soldiers had left with Leliana’s agents two days earlier and would be traveling in small groups off the main road in order to arrive and get into position before the main envoy arrived. He’d sent some of his best soldiers ahead of them and more now traveled with them as the Inquisitor’s retinue, but the idea of political intrigue and assassination made him uneasy. Balls and masquerades were exactly the kind of thing he hated. He knew Evana felt the same.

Perhaps that was why, as he rode beside her on the Imperial Highway, he could feel the nervous energy radiating off her in waves. They were riding at a quicker pace, which made conversation difficult, but he made note to speak with her about it when they stopped to camp. He chuckled to himself as he recalled the exasperated resignation in Josephine’s face when Leliana, Cullen and Evana had all agreed that the speed of horseback was preferable to a carriage. As a peace offering, they had allowed her to engage carriages to take them from their accommodations in Halamshiral to the Winter Palace. He had no doubt their ride to the palace would be in the form of some overly ornate monstrosity.

Throughout the rest of their first day’s journey, he occasionally caught Evana’s eye to smile at her. The action seemed to calm her, at least for a time. When they finally stopped for the evening, the sun had dropped low in the sky, and the orange-pink streaks of sunset were just beginning to cut through the heavens. It was an odd sight after so many months in the mountains, and Cullen paused while setting up his tent and walked to the edge of the camp to admire the horizon.

“It’s particularly beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

Evana’s soft voice in his ear drew his attention. He looked down to find her standing beside him and smiled at her ever stealthy movements. She’d turned to watch the horizon, but his gaze was caught by her eyes, bright with an emotion he hadn’t seen since their silent walk in the snow at Haven. He recalled how her appreciation for the small moments in life had drawn him to her during those first weeks. He determined he would follow her example and took the opportunity to admire her in all her glory, her silvery hair shining and her full lips glossy in the golden light. He had strong urge to kiss her slowly and try to make her feel even a fraction of what he felt for her now. He knew he couldn’t with all the others there, but a part of him still thrilled at the thought that now she would allow… no, she would welcome his attentions. His chest tightened with emotion. He tried to turn away from her, but instead his eyes roved her profile, memorizing every curve and freckle.

“Enjoying the view, Commander?”

Dorian’s voice cut through his musings, and he quickly turned his head back to the now setting sun. The mage appeared between them, resting one hand on each of their shoulders. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached down and placed Cullen’s hand over Evana’s.

“There, that ought to make the view more enjoyable. Let’s settle in to watch, shall we?”

Dorian stepped back a pace but remained behind them to block the view of anyone who might be looking their direction. Cullen’s heart pumped a little faster now, but he didn’t drop her hand. On the contrary, he took a tiny side step closer to her and slid his hand farther around her fingers to grip her hand firmly. She tightened her grip as well. He didn’t know if she looked at him because he didn’t dare turn to look at her again. If he did, he knew he’d kiss her for sure, even with Dorian standing just behind them.

They stood for several minutes in silence before they heard more footsteps behind them. Cullen tensed as Dorian called out a greeting.

“Ahh! Cassandra! Leliana! Josephine! Coming over to enjoy the view as well? Or are you here to scold us for being lazy? Scourge of the earth and all that?”

Cullen felt Evana’s hand twitch in his, and he loosened his grip to let her remove her hand if she wished. He was sure the women already knew about their relationship, but he didn’t want to make Evana uncomfortable. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but when Cullen didn’t move to release her hand completely, she relaxed and tightened her grip once more. He did the same.

Cassandra came to stand beside Cullen while Leliana and Josephine stood back with Dorian. If any of them noticed the lovers’ entwined hands, they didn’t mention it.

Cassandra scoffed at Dorian’s comment. “We did not come to scold anyone. I happen to enjoy beautiful things, too, you know.”

“So do I. Everyone is so peaceful and quiet right now. Sunsets help.”

No one had seen Cole join them, but he suddenly appeared beside Evana. Cullen had to fight off a grin as Cole slipped his hand into Evana’s free one. The boy was strange, but as the weeks passed, Cullen had found something comforting about him. It wasn’t a feeling he wanted to parse any further, however. He’d rather think of the feel of Evana’s gloved hand in his and the warmth radiating from it, even through the layers of leather.

The seven of them stood there, watching the sun drop steadily behind the horizon. As the final slice of burning light slipped out of sight, the group gradually dispersed. Cassandra and Josephine left to help arrange the evening meal. Leliana went to check on her agents. Cole wandered off mumbling something about “helping” a soldier. Finally, Dorian patted them both on the shoulders.

“Well, I’d love to stand here silently communing with nature a bit longer, but there’s a bottle of wine in my saddlebag calling my name. Don’t let anyone see you canoodling out here. It would be scandalous for the Inquisitor to be caught with her pants down.”

Evana gasped. “Dorian!”

The mage simply laughed and turned to leave them alone. Cullen glanced over to see that her face was, in fact, just as red as his felt. As Dorian moved away from them, Cullen slowly, regretfully, allowed her fingers to slip out of his. Even in the twilight, he knew they would be seen if he continued to hold her hand.

“I should finish setting up my tent. Would you care to join me?”

Despite her cheeks so recently flushed with embarrassment, she raised an eyebrow and faintly smirked at him. “In your tent? Did Dorian put ideas in your head?”

“W-wha- no!”

Much to his chagrin, Cullen’s hand automatically lifted to rub his neck, and he felt the heat suffuse his face yet again. Just when he thought he’d gotten over most of his stuttering foolishness… he vaguely wondered how she would have reacted if he’d said yes. Because in truth, Dorian’s words had put ideas in his head - highly inappropriate ideas he quickly pushed aside. She looked at him with a comical mixture of embarrassment, regret and amusement.

“I’m sorry. I think spending so much time with Dorian, Bull and Varric had a bad effect on me.”

He laughed awkwardly. “It’s alright, Ev- my lady. I was merely wondering…” He cleared his throat as if to clear away the last vestiges of awkwardness. “…if you’d like to speak about whatever has been bothering you all day.”

All the emotion drained from her face and was replaced by uncertainty. “What… what do you mean?”

He realized he truly was beginning to understand her - in this case, perhaps better than she understood herself. From their previous conversations, it was clear that she needed to speak her fears to overcome them, and he was happy to support her now as he had done so many times before. If this was all he could truly offer, he would not waver in encouraging her through her doubts and insecurities. The thought briefly crossed his mind that he might be of a similar persuasion - perhaps that was why burying his own feelings had never really worked for him. This wasn’t about him, though.

Despite who might be watching, he risked taking a step closer to her and spoke in hushed tones. “You’re not the only one who can sense when something is amiss. You’ve been tense all day. Will you tell me why?”

She blushed again, a becoming pink tinging her face in the fading twilight. She looked away from him.

“I’m just worried about the ball. What if…” She paused, her voice small and fragile. Then, the words she’d been holding inside spilled from her like a dam suddenly bursting under the weight of the water behind it. “What if I can’t do this? Even practicing with Leliana and Josephine, I know I’m going to be completely out of my element. I’ve always disliked large crowds - it makes me nervous just thinking about being among all those people. Then to have to pretend to smile, pretend to be cordial and good-natured, and yet also pretend to be mysterious. All the reactions and turns of phrase feel so foreign to me. I just know I’ll mix things up… say the wrong thing to the wrong person. They’ll kick us out… Empress Celene will be assassinated…”

“Evana, stop.”

Cullen put his hands on her arms and nearly pulled her into him before remembering where they were. Instead of holding her to him, he merely caught her gaze before dropping his hands to his sides again.

“I understand your hesitance and worry, but you can’t let this get the best of you. You have been working hard on this, and even if things don’t go perfectly, I have no doubt that you can accomplish what we must. You can save Orlais - if that means saving Celene or taking a different route entirely. Whatever your choices, know that we are all here to help you and advise you as best we can. You won’t be in this alone.”

She gave him a wane smile. “Ma serannas, Cullen. I- I wish you could hold me right now.”

Cullen closed his eyes briefly before opening them to smile back. “Maker knows I do, too.”

They walked back to the camp and joined the rest of the group for dinner. They all ate quickly and headed to their tents, Evana sharing with Cassandra, Leliana with Josephine and Cullen with Dorian. Cole didn’t really need to sleep, but he liked to have a space nonetheless, so Cullen set up a pallet for the boy at the back of his and Dorian’s tent.

The next morning, Cullen sent up silent thanks to the Maker that he’d had a relatively dreamless night. In fact, he’d been feeling much better in the last week. He prayed it would last.

They broke camp before dawn, rode hard and camped again that night. The travel had left them all weary, so they ate in relative silence and retired early. The next day, they arrived at Halamshiral as the afternoon sun bathed the city in a hazy golden light. They settled into their accommodations and met briefly in the Inquisitor’s room to discuss the next evening’s event. Josephine, already in her element, started them off.

“We are invited as Gaspard’s guests, so we will be able to arrive a bit earlier than a majority of the other guests. This means we have more opportunity to mingle and gather information. While the talks commence, the Inquisitor will look for clues about the assassin. We’ll have to be on guard at all times for anything that seems suspicious.”

“Won’t I look suspicious if I’m wandering around the party so much?”

Leliana nodded. “Yes, but that’s why we will disperse ourselves throughout the ballroom and outer rooms to give you an excuse to come speak with us. That will also give you an opportunity to speak with various dignitaries - and possibly some of the servants, too, if you can get them to speak with you.”

Cullen had nothing to add to the conversation, so he remained silent and watched Evana’s shoulders gradually, almost imperceptibly, slope downward. The circles under her eyes had faded a bit but not enough for his liking. Cullen resolved to check on her later that evening after he’d taken care of a few last minute tasks for tomorrow.

The meeting ended with Leliana and Josephine coaxing Evana into going out for a bit to tour the city, so Cullen bowed to them all and headed to his room before they could drag him out, too. After a brief meeting with his Lieutenant to review protocol for entering the palace, he shed his armor and pulled out a few reports and requisitions for the Western Approach that he’d been unable to finish before they left. Three hours later, he was interrupted by a knock at his door. At his word, Josephine swept in with a large bag.

“We’re back with the uniforms for tomorrow. Please try it on tonight and let me know if you need any last minute alterations before the ball. I’ve also taken the liberty of providing you with some day clothes. I’m sure you didn’t bring anything appropriate for tomorrow, did you?”

Confused, Cullen furrowed his brows and motioned to the neat stack of metal and leather on the armor stand next to him. “I have my armor. That will do until I need to change.”

Josephine didn’t bother to hold back a sigh. “No, it will not do. I’ll repeat what I told Cassandra: We are here for peace talks. You cannot be seen walking around the city in armor all day. Wear the clothes I have provided, please.”

“What do you mean ‘walking around the city’? I have work I need-”

“Your work will wait. We must be seen before the ball. After the Inquisitor meets with Madame de Fer for a morning brunch, we’ll be enjoying some afternoon entertainment, then dinner out, then heading back here to change for the evening. Be ready by 2 o'clock, please.”

Cullen swallowed another protest. The look in her eye told him it would be useless anyway. Josephine gave a quick bow and walked to the door but paused before closing it behind her.

“If it helps, the Inquisitor will be there the entire time. The two of you can commiserate on how boring and unnecessary it all is.”

“Yes. Fine,” he replied, trying to keep the terse note from seeping through. “Thank you, Josephine.”

He still wasn’t happy to be wasting an afternoon in the Orlesian city, but the prospect of time with Evana was always pleasant. Perhaps they could find a way to enjoy themselves in spite of the pomp and finery.

The nearby chantry bell rang out eight o'clock. If he was going to check on Evana, he should do it now and then let her sleep. Stowing away the papers in a safe place, he exited his room and walked down the hall to her door. Josephine had ensured all their rooms were in the same wing so they could keep a better eye on security. Still, the large building would be difficult to protect. He silently tried Evana’s door and was gratified to find it locked. He knocked softly.

After a moment, a muffled voice came from the other side of the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s Cullen.”

The door opened immediately, and without a word, she grabbed his hand to pull him into her room. Almost before she’d closed the door again, her arms were around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. He gladly accommodated her by bending down to press his lips against hers. The delicate scent of herbs and lilac engulfed him. Lifting a hand to cup her face, he threaded his fingers into her hair and found it slightly damp letting him know she’d likely just bathed. He pushed away the improper thoughts that invaded his mind and focused on the now - the feel of her skin and hair, the way she tasted, the soft sighs as she struggled to pull him closer.

He kept the kiss gentle - he was beginning to see the danger in allowing himself much more than chaste kisses - but more than the feel of her lips against his, he enjoyed simply being able to touch her without fear of someone watching them. He felt the kiss deepening, and they both began to breathe a little heavier. Instead of following his instincts this time, he pulled away just slightly to catch his breath while dropping light kisses on her cheeks, eyelids, nose and jaw.

“Good evening to you, too,” he murmured between kisses.

She laughed breathlessly. “Sorry. I’ve been wanting to do that for two days now.”

“I have no complaints.” He found her hand and brought it to his lips, then pulled her gently to the plush chairs by her fireplace. “How are you holding up? Did you enjoy your tour today?”

“The city is actually quite beautiful, although I suppose it would be to me considering it was originally built by the elves. Dorian insisted on joining us, which I thought would be a good idea until…” She rolled her eyes a little and smiled. “The three of them have strange ideas of fun. We spent much of our tour just looking at people’s clothing. Dorian was properly sarcastic, of course, and Leliana was particularly attentive to the shoes. But it was all lost on me, I’m afraid. I did try, though, for Josie’s sake. I even allowed her to buy… a few things for me.”

She paused, and he thought he saw a faint blush on her cheeks in the firelight.

“That was good of you. I’m sure it made Josephine’s year to be able to buy our practical Dalish Inquisitor a few fine things. What did she get you?”

The blush on Evana’s cheeks deepened. “Uh… just a few items of… of clothing. Some sleeveless tunics for training and… and other… things. Oh! And a new outfit for tomorrow - she insisted it wasn’t appropriate for me to wear my armor around the city. I think she likely had to say that to a few people in our party.”

Cullen was a bit perplexed by her vague answer and apparent embarrassment around the clothes, but he decided not to pursue it further and gave her a sardonic look instead. “Indeed. One does not disobey the ambassador lightly.”

“Josephine Montilyet, part-time diplomat, full-time intimidator of inquisitors, warriors and commanders.”

She laughed to herself, and Cullen joined in with a small chuckle. She looked down and smiled shyly as her hands played with the ties of her robe. With her sudden greeting, he’d barely had time to register what she was wearing. Now, it occurred to him that she’d just had a bath and was now wearing a robe…

No. He couldn’t allow his thoughts to roam in that direction. Eyes up. Ask another question.

“How is it I get this time alone with you? I thought for sure Josephine and Leliana would be pumping you full of last-minute information.”

“Oh, they have been, but I finally sent them away about a half an hour ago. There’s only so much information my brain can process at once. I’m sure it will begin again tomorrow morning.”

“Are you still feeling nervous about tomorrow?”

“A little, but not as much thanks to you. You’re very insightful for a rough and tumble military man, you know?”

He laughed awkwardly, lifting his hand to rub his neck. “Not really… but I suppose I can be about some things… or about people. People I… ah… care about.”

Since admitting they cared for each other as more than friends, they’d really only spent a handful of days together in the last six weeks. It still felt new and almost forbidden to say such things out loud. He’d thought them in his head for months, of course, but the spoken words felt far more potent, more intimate, than they’d ever felt in his head. Even after the few things he’d already spoken - that he’d wanted to kiss her for months, that he wanted to get their relationship right, that she made him happier than he’d ever been - it was a struggle to remember that he was allowed to be open with her now. At least, open enough to mention some of those little things he found so attractive about her. In truth, however, he was terrified of scaring her away with the strength of his feelings. Knowing her as well as he did, he understood that “love” would not be a word she took lightly.

She leaned forward to face him, propped her elbow on the arm of the chair and placed her chin in her palm. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“As am I,” he said in a quiet voice.

She no longer seemed to have as much trouble as he did saying such things, though her cheeks flushed prettily with every admission. He flinched inwardly at his own ineptitude. He’d returned her sentiment, but she deserved more. He had so much he wanted to say, but fear held him back. She smiled softly and blushed again as she noticed his intent gaze.

“It’s nice to see you in a different setting once in awhile. I travel so much - see so many new places I wish I could share with you. I often wonder what you might think of certain landscapes or ruins… though I like coming home to you, too.”

Cullen felt his heart skip a beat at her continued frankness. “Oh?”

“Yes, of course. Don’t you like it when I come back? Or am I just a distraction from your work?”

She was teasing him. The tone of her voice and sparkle in her eye told him as much. He’d noticed her playful attitude coming out more and more as they spent more time together, but considering his recent thoughts, he wanted to give her more than a teasing or flippant answer in return. He swallowed hard. What should he say? Perhaps the simple truth wouldn’t be too much. Yes. Just tell the truth.

He clenched his jaw tightly and determined he would make the most of their time together… starting right now. Taking a deep breath, he locked his eyes on her and held out his hand.

“Come over here, and I’ll tell you.”

She seemed mildly surprised, but gave him a shy smile anyway. Getting up from her chair, she walked the short distance between them and placed her hand in his as she stopped in front of him. He sat up, placed his other hand on her hip and felt his breathing deepen in anticipation. He gently tugged her down into his lap, and she fell willingly, her arms circling loosely around his neck. The desire building inside him threatened to take over his brain completely, but he needed to say this before he lost his nerve. He wanted to hide his head but forced himself to look her in the eyes instead. Clear blue with a ring of violet regarded him with such trust, such admiration. After her candid declaration, he could do no less in return.

“When you leave, I feel… it feels like someone has ripped a hole in my chest. So I work. A lot. And after a week or two, the ache begins to feel normal, and I remember that’s what I used to feel like all the time. Empty - an emptiness I always tried to fill with work and duty. But when you come back…”

He took a deep, shaky breath and finally looked away from her. The intensity of her gaze, and the way her face had changed as he spoke…

“When you come home, you fill me. I feel whole again.”

She didn’t respond, so he tentatively glanced back over at her. The look on her face… had he frightened her? They were together now, but he still felt so insecure - as if she could slip through his fingers at any moment.

Maker, did I ruin it? “I’m sorry. Was that…? I didn’t mean to put that on you. Please forget-”

She stopped his words with a shake of her head and placed thin fingers over his lips before trading them for a brief, fluttering kiss. “Cullen… Cullen, no. Thank you for sharing that with me. I- I feel the same. When we are separated, my heart hurts. You are so important to me. Being away from you is… is like-”

“Like I’m missing part of myself,” he finished in an awed tone.

She nodded as her hand rose to caress his cheek. “Yes,” she whispered.

He pulled her into an embrace and let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She feels the same. Maker, how…

He pressed fervent lips against her neck, and the air between them changed instantly. Trailing soft kisses along her jaw wasn’t enough. Simply tasting her, touching her, never seemed to be enough. He craved more - wanted her closer. She held his jaw with her small hands, fingers splaying across his cheeks and neck, and guided his lips to hers. Here was the desperation and desire. Here was the need to show her how he felt. Words seemed so inadequate, but as he tasted the sweetness of her mouth, the truth he longed - but also feared - to speak out loud echoed in his head like a mantra.

I love you. I love you. I love you. Maker, how I love you.

They barely registered the knock and simultaneous sound of a key in the door before it opened and Josephine walked in carrying an empty bag. Evana broke away and struggled to stand. Cullen tried to help her but only ended up entangling their limbs even more.

“Inqui- Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t realize… I can come back later.”

There was a sheepish look on her face as the ambassador began backing toward the door, but Evana stopped her. The small sigh passing the elf’s lips as she finally managed to stand up was his only indication she was displeased by the interruption.

“No, it’s alright. We were just… err… talking. What can I do for you?”

Josephine looked back and forth at them. Cullen felt the heat spread up his neck and onto his cheeks. He stood.

“I’ll leave you two to discuss matters.”

Josephine dismissed his offer with a wave of her hand. “No, no, Cullen. I simply came to…” Josephine looked behind her and closed the door. “I came to collect Evana’s armor for Leliana. They are arranging to smuggle it in tonight with the first round of Leliana’s spies. I will be out of your way in no time.”

Cullen debated protesting, but a small hand slipped into his and squeezed. The pleading look on Evana’s face had him sitting down again as she left his side to collect her armor. She wanted him to stay. That was good enough.

His embarrassment subsided as he watched Evana move gracefully around the room. Her compact body seemed to float over the carpet, the overly large robe that should have looked ridiculous on her small body actually enhancing the ethereal effect.

“Leliana already has my staff, I believe,” Evana murmured to Josephine.

Josephine nodded as she folded the boots and light armor into the bag. “Yes, she has it with the other weapons. Once we’re in the palace, Leliana’s spies will ensure it is available to you when you need it. We’ll make sure Dorian, Cole and Cassandra’s armor and weapons are also available.”

Josephine looked up when she was finished packing the bag and smiled at them. “Well, that’s all. Enjoy your evening, you two.”

Josephine left the room quickly and locked it behind her. Evana returned to stand in front of him for a moment as if debating her next move. He gently took her hand and tugged at it, smiling softly. She grinned at him and fell back into his lap.

#revelation of all things #revelations #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #my fanfiction #evana lavellan #evana approves #commander cullen #cullen rutherford #cullavellan fluff #cullavellan #fluff and angst #troat

[orsino-the-enchanter]

"🍸 Admit it. You have a cat fetish."

(from @carnal-malefactor , too lazy to log out and in, sorry 😂)

Send 🍸+ a question and my muse will answer while drunk.

“The things I hear coming from your mouth sometimes make me wonder why I still hang around with you. What, from the bottom of my heart, the fuck, Uldred?!”

#orsino speaks #orsino answers #carnal-malefactor #rp #drunk orsino #don't mind him #he needs a bit of alcohol to remember he's from ansburg and start swearing

[thieving-brilliance-blog]

;; So, here’s the deal. I want to make roleplay blogs for some OCs of mine, but I’m not sure which to choose. I’m only going to make one blog for right now, and I need help choosing which OC muse to go with. So.. Let’s try this.

https://strawpoll.com/223g913

Here’s a poll for you guys to vote on the OC muse I should pick. I’ve got two muses each from three different stories. Those stories being; Down the Rabbit Hole, Beyond the Rainbow, and The Second Star. Each one is my own take on classic stories (Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, and Peter Pan), now with a steampunk spin! And below the cut here, are some short descriptions of the characters, to help you guys know what I’m talking about.

Joker (Down the Rabbit Hole)

Joker is an outcast in his society, and a resident born of Wonderland. He was born disfigured, and therefore, was given the name and the role of Joker, making him the world’s scapegoat, the one on whom all bad things are blamed, and the one who the rest of Wonderland can be united against, so the peace of the world may be maintained. He’s rude, sarcastic, and generally rather grumpy, but he owns up to and accepts the role he was given, and says that ‘if they expect me to be bad, well.. why shouldn’t I give them what they want?’

Klein (Down the Rabbit Hole)

The Mad Hatter. Klein is another resident of Wonderland, and it is a rule of his role that no matter where he might be, if the opportunity arises, he must seize the chance to have a tea party, right then and there. So, it should come as no surprise that he always has a teapot on him, as well as teacups, tea bags, and a means to boil water. He’s quite often more than a little mad, and isn’t always the most coherent individual, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly aware of everything happening around him. He most certainly is, and actually is almost hyper-aware. It’s just dulled by his perceived madness that’s part of his role.

Weston (Beyond the Rainbow)

You all know of the Wicked Witch of the West, but.. What if things were different? What if she.. had been a he? That would be Weston. The Wicked Wizard of the West. For generations, the Four Witches of Oz have chosen their successors, and at the end of their lives, they pass on their power to those chosen few. And for generations, it has always been to females, and always to fellow Elfric Ozians like themselves, the most prominent race among the residents of Oz. However, when the previous Witch of the West found an orphaned boy in the woods and rescued him from death, everything changed. She raised him in secret, and when her time came to pass on her powers, she gave them to him. Now, Weston is hated and feared by all other Ozians, because he is a Wizard rather than a Witch, and he is not of their kind. He is an Uldred Ozian, a race believed to be born of dark forces.

Hawke (Beyond the Rainbow)

Hawke is but a humble scarecrow living out in the cornfields on the Eastern side of the land of Oz. Or is he? As of recently, he’s encountered a young girl named Dorothy (who goes by ‘Thea’), and has joined up with her in a journey to get to the Emerald City. While he’s not the smartest individual all the time, he’s certainly smart enough to be sarcastic and cynical, and now that they’ve got Gizmo the Tin Golem and Leon the Cowardly Lion with them, well.. He’s not exactly thrilled by them and won’t hesitate to give his two-cents about the whole thing. All in all, he likes to complain, but Hawke has a good heart where it counts. Well.. Sort of. He is made of straw, after all.

Tinker (The Second Star)

Tinker A. Bell is one of the minute residents of Neverland, affectionately known as a pixie (not a fairy, mind you, it’s a common mistake). You may think you know who Tinker Bell is, but this one is a bit different. After all, in this case, she.. is a he. Yes, this pixie is a boy, and he certainly gets into his fair share of mischief. He likes to pretend he’s a voice of reason and keeps Peter out of trouble, but.. The truth is, he enjoys a good prank as much as the next pixie. Sure, he can get a bit fed up with Peter’s often reckless, and sometimes even dangerous, behavior.. But he will often play along. Of course, it does help that Tinker can use his own magic to make himself the same size as a normal human, but.. He usually can’t keep it up for very long. Still, he’s Peter’s near constant companion, but now that there’s a young lady in the mix.. Tinker’s gotten worried.

James Hook (The Second Star)

James Hook is, as you might expect, the Captain of the pirate ship Jolly Roger, and a resident of Neverland. He’s clever, he’s sarcastic, and he has a grudge against Peter Pan. Rumor has it that the pair of them were once friends, and had an alliance of sorts even. But whatever may have happened between them, which likely includes the cause of Hook’s missing hand, they are certainly not allied now, and are often at each other’s throats. Of course, due to the fact that Peter did actually feed Hook’s severed hand to a crocodile, the pirate captain is often followed by the beast and now remains absolutely terrified of all crocodiles, falling into a nearly paralytic fit of terror any time one comes close.

#;; out of lockpicks (ooc) #mun wants to make a new blog #but i need help picking a muse #so it's time for a poll #always

[orphicpath]

My depiction of Anders is somewhat Canon Divergent. He will remain truer to his Dragon Age Origins persona and not dive so far into desperation and frothing hatred of templars. 

This Anders still blows up the Chantry. As the action sparked major events in Inquisition. But he made sure to convince people to leave the building so there weren’t as many casualties. 

This Anders is still possessed by justice in certain Verses. In others Anders has realized how warped his own ideas made his friend so Justice is put in his own body.

Name: Anders

Gender: Male

Age: 34 years old (At the beginning of inquisition)

Birth Date: 2nd Harvestmere,  9:7 Dragon

Languages Spoken &/or Read: Common

Ethnicity: Human

Nationality: Anderfells

Birthplace: Unnamed Village, Anderfells.

Current Residence: Verse dependant.  

Allegiances:

Circle of Magi Ferelden (formerly)

Gray Wardens ( Formerly )

Faceclaim? Tom Milson

Height: 5’8”

Weight: 131 lbs (underweight)

Eyes: Honey Brown

Hair: Dirty Blond

Body Type: Lean

Distinguishing Marks: Freckles on shoulders and face.

Tattoos: No

Piercings: Loop in left ear.

Scars: Yes.

Physical Disabilities/Illness?: Nightmares Insomnia Headaches Body Aches.

Mental Disabilities/Illness?: PTSD Depression Anxiety 

Medications: Sleeping Draughts

Medical Aids/Equipment: None 

Allergies:  Strawberries (mild)

Drinker? Yes

Smoker? No

Drug use? Yes, if you count the Lyrium potions.

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Temperament: Choleric

Vice: Wrath

Virtue: Charity

Tarot: Justice

Core personality Traits:

Positive traits:

Kind

Charming

Witty

Determined

Passionate

Negative Traits

Short-sighted

Impulsive

Judgmental

Manipulative

reckless

Unnamed Parents - Status Unknown - Estranged

Karl - ex lover - estranged (verse dependant)

Marital Status: Single

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Romantic Orientation: Panromantic

Do they practice Monogamy or Polyamory?

Are they open to; One night stands? Yes Friends with Benefits? Yes Hateships? Yes

Alchemy

Defensive Magic

Escape Artist

Born in Ferelden in an unnamed village Anders was a popular child always surrounded by a gaggle of younger kids. When he was 12 he accidentally set a barn on fire, showing he was a Mage. His mother was immediately ready to protect him, but his father, fearing Anders’ power, called the templar and had the boy shipped off to the Circle. 

When arriving in Kinloch hold Anders refused to speak to anyone. This is how he got the name Anders, as he was referred to as ‘The Ander’. Anders despised the circle and would constantly escape only to be recaptured by the Templars. On his seventh and final escape, just before Uldred’s Coup, Anders was found Virgil’s Keep by the Warden-Commander. When a Templar Ser Rylock arrives with Ferelden's monarch, wanting to arrest Anders for killing his templar guards despite his protests of innocence.The Warden-Command invokes the Right of Conscription.  Anders successfully undertakes the Joining ritual to become a Grey Warden. 

TBD

General Tag

Answered Asks 

Closed Threads

Desires

Headcanons

Musings

Open Starters 

Visage

[massgrav]

Consumption

#tuberculosis #consumption #dark 'art' #muse: uldred #disease #sickness #black and white