all wise men weep

Open (nsfwish) / mutuals only pls

Close quarters was always a concern for the qunari. Not always was the mage‘s body overly sensitive—it came in waves—and some days were much better than others. Today was not that day. From time to time, a mere brush of someone else could set his skin aflame with heat that surged right between his loins. His arousal was harmless of course, but who wouldn’t assume someone like him (a savage qunari) was trying something unwarranted. Something foul and perverted. It was one of the many things that caused such insecurities to smother him.

So of course, on this already flustered day, the Maker—or someone—had it out for Kaaras. And the moment that someone backed into him, he made a stifled noise that was cross between a groan and a gasp. They had no idea the suffering that came with the sensation of a body, a warm body, being pressed up against his awkward erection. Worse, the person steadied themselves against him, their hand against his firm appendage. The disadvantages of his height.

Kaaras couldn’t have been quicker in stepping back and out of their reach. Blood rushed to his cheeks, praying to the Maker that perhaps they had no idea what part of him they’d touched, that maybe they thought it was his belt buckle or something nestled away in his pocket. Anything!

“Maker’s breath…” he breathed. They were going to think the worst of him now, weren’t they.

Valdra is very much new to Skyhold. They were going to try to petition for the Inquisitor’s aid, but it seems luck isn’t on their side. When they trip and lose their balance their hand definitely lands on something it shouldn’t have & their cheeks immediately turn a rosy pink. “My, what a healthy man you are!” Oh, wait, no, that’s definitely not how they should have responded. Granted, is it normal for the Inquistor to walk around, er, standing at attention?

They clasp their hands together and duck their head sheepishly. “I apologize. . .that was, ah, not the most tactful way of responding. . .” Valdra trails off and looks away. Their face feels hot. This is definitely not how they planned their first meeting with the Inquisitor going. “Not to be insulting! It was, ah, very nice. Anatomically correct, I’m sure?” They tilt their head. “Oh no, I shouldn’t have said that either.” 

“Age aside, in my experience eating has never been strictly necessary, more a matter of pleasure than sustenance.” Still, to refuse would be impolite. He tears off a corner of the bread, pausing before he pops it into his mouth. “Please, ‘Solas’ will do.”

@allwisemenweep​

Visus eyes the mysterious elf. It’s been weeks now since they’ve been in Skyhold, and he still wasn’t sure what to make of them. A chill ran up the Inquisitor’s spine, and like the other had heard, Visus was joined in the small clearing outside of Skyhold.

(a rock garden to put it kindly, but visus had statues of the evanuris erected here for his own use initially.)

Visus was quiet, watching Valdra inspect the statues, and shut his eyes when his gaze lingered too long. His prayers were disjointed, and ultimately his own internal monologue failed him. Rising quietly, he made his way to wait at the entrance, a silent indicator that he would walk back with the other.

“I’ve never seen anyone pray to Fen’Harel.” Visus claims bluntly as Valdra joins him finally. “Not for any good reason typically” he tacked on wearily. He nodded forward, folding his hands behind his back as they walked.

Valdra walks away from the statues resolutely—for a creature that is no longer in posession of much of their memories—they do seem quite determined. They remember fragments of rebellion, of praying to Fen’Harel, but that is all they remember. Taking note of Visus, they join up with him, and smile faintly. “Fen’Harel was a God of Rebellion first and foremost, as I’m sure you know, Inquistor—for better or for worse, I was a part of that rebellion. I remember that much.” They murmur softly. “What we were rebelling against I still do not remember, but praying gives me some semblance of comfort, even if he will never answer my prayers.” 

  —–  BROW  ARCHES  UPWARDS,  but  carver  gives  a  small  nod  of  his  head.  by  himself,  he’d  sooner  be  known  as  a  warden  than  as  the  inquisitor.  it  was  easier  to  remain  low  profile  that  way,  for  his  enemies  were  numerous.

  ❝ i  wouldn’t  say  no  to  help,  if  you’re  offering  –  &  if  you  promise  not  to  set  me  on  fire  in  the  process. ❞  a  beat,  &  he  looks  back  to  them,  ❝ what  was  your  name? ❞ 

—— “I  APOLOGIZE,  I  did  not  mean  to  bring  up  past  difficulties.”

- their dick is 4.5 inches erect and they’re proud of it. if you make fun of them for their dick being on the small side, they will literally light you on fire and call you a bad bedroom guest. be nice to valdra.

- if they really want to impress their lover, they’ll wear cute lace bralettes. they really enjoy looking good for their lover.

- they’re confident when it comes to their body. if they want to entice you into the bedroom, they might dance for you. it’s sensual and slow and the way they dance highlights the curves of their body.

- they’re fine with taking charge or being told what to do. they’re very much versatile—they won’t hold it against you if you don’t feel safe giving up control around them.

- valdra’s a very considerate lover. they will ask questions. they will try their best to ensure that their lover is having a good time. 

  —–  GAZE  FALLS  TO  the  other,  but  his  attention  is  still  largely  upon  their  surroundings.  after  a  moment  or  two,  he’s  looking  back  to  them. 

  ❝ warden  carver,  yes. ❞  he  makes  a  noise  in  the  back  of  his  throat,  thoughtful,  ❝ there  are  a  few  entrances  to  the  deep  roads  that  must  need  tending  to.  i  haven’t  seen  so  many  on  the  surface  for  some  time. ❞

So strong men that have overcome trauma basically.

Garrett watches, and a moment of surprise briefly has his heart in his throat. He swallows against it and a little smirk quirks his lips. “Oh. You promise, do you?” His hands find Valdra’s hips before he’s pulling them closer. When he’s satisfied, an arm wraps around their waist to hold them firmly in place. “You’re making good on it so far.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Hm?” The question rouses him from a waking dream, spoken in a voice so familiar that it takes a moment to process where he is. “Ah, is that so? I suppose it must have slipped my mind.”