Euleogy

am scared

The youngest daughter of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, showing up at Ostagar broken and wounded with a snarling disposition and a propensity toward using threats of violence to address the lack of respect from her fellow recruits, determined to fulfill her last promise to her father, regardless of what the nation thinks of her family now.

Adaia and Cyrion Tabris’ daughter, arriving at Ostagar having already killed so many humans, she feels as if their blood will never wash off her hands and in some ways she never wants it to, suspicious and distrusting of every single human she runs across, vowing to show them all what a scrappy fighter from Denerim’s alienage is really capable of.

The Princess Aeducan, a princess no more, her identity erased, her title stripped, showing up at Ostagar with her head held fucking high, not caring if she has to look up to meet the glance of all the cloud heads she meets, speaking in a stern voice that commands authority and respect, staring down those who would challenge her with a withering glare.

The huntress Mahariel, arriving at Ostagar clinging to life, a fever raging in her blood, but on her own two fucking feet, stoically bearing the pain of Blight sickness with a quiet strength so vast even her human healers can’t help but be impressed.

Brosca shows up, eyes sharp and deft fingers twitching, already sizing up every person that crosses her path as a possible opponent, or even a mark, eager to get on with this whole Blight business and ready to knock some Darkspawn skulls together, performing a duty with more honor than the feckless nobles of Orzammar could ever hope to achieve.

Surana arrives with her swishing robes and wide eyes, feeling raw and hurt from recent betrayals, but an insatiable curiosity propels her to swallow her fears and explore the wide world around her, secure in the knowledge that lightning and fire can be called at a moment’s notice into her soft, uncalloused hands.

Agreed. 

navy blue was literally named for its use in the BRITISH ROYAL NAVY in the mid-1700’s

maroon is literally an evolution of french marron, meaning chestnut. its a brownish red. like a chestnut.

it comes across as “haha look at this funny r/showerthoughts post i saw!!! so relatable, am i right fellow non-artists?”

its a low effort joke aimed at people who could not be paid to give a shit about trying any artistic medium, but lose their mind over a notebook sketch someone does in 15 minutes and scream “I WISH I COULD DRAW LIKE YOU” as if it doesnt take years of practice; like the artist was born with an “artistic gene” or some bullshit

You call everyone dude. You were raised in an area where dude is an all-purpose term. One day your coworker Mary tells you that she doesn’t like being called dude. You’re a decent person and stop doing it. It turns out she’s trans, and even though she’s transitioned and is satisfied and secure in her body, being called dude makes her dysphoric. She’s much more comfortable being called girl, pal, or just Mary.

but rather than go on some journey to find some true love or whatever, she decides to use her last years to travel the seas with her crew and collect treasure and drink and be merry

“happy birthday” every time i hand them something

“well, that’s not ideal” whenever something is going wrong

“we are in the timeline that god abandoned” whenever i’m mildly inconvenienced

“can’t you see that your fighting is tearing this family apart?” whenever two or more coworkers are arguing

referring to taking medication as “eating medicine”

“time to go back to prison!” when putting animals back in their cages

referring to inanimate objects as (s)he, particularly when i break something and say “oh no, he’s dead.” this concerns them especially when i follow it up with “that’s not ideal”

Eating is going to be hard too: