huntress

“Oh, you’re Greer!” For someone at risk of being very publicly murdered, Atreion sounded quite delighted. This time his grin was genuine, not even hesitating to link their arms. “Oh, our dear Nightingale has told me all about you! I did hope that I’d run into you one of these days. What a stroke of luck, eh?”

Well, any friend of his terrifying advisor was absolutely a friend of Atreion’s. This simplified things quite a bit. The Arl of Redcliffe was still sore about wrecking his hall during the whole Magister Incident, so causing a brawl in the middle of a street was… unwise, especially when his magic leant towards the destructive side of things.

But if he had someone to fight with, someone who could watch his back in close quarters…

A stroke of luck indeed.

“Oh, we are absolutely eliminating them.” He grinned, ears twitching in the direction of their little stalker. No running feet or ringing knives yet. Good. “I got a good look: no markers or uniform, so I’m guessing common garden variety of hired goon. Should be easy enough to lure away, and the Crows or the House of Repose won’t be billing me for wasted materials again.”

“So My Lady Cousland, any ideas?”

“to be honest, you can scarcely call it luck ; i’d heard word your lot would be here and i was in the area, visiting an old friend. figured i might lurk around and see if i could track you down.” there was always the option to simply show up at the inquisition’s base of operations, of course, but that would involve all the fanfare and such nonsense her name requires ; greer likes this better. or rather - she WOULD, were it not for someone else tracking the herald down at the same time.

HIS HANDS ARE DEEP WITHIN the dampened soil strewn out before him ; every SEED had been planned and planted accordingly, to THRIVE ( he knew the make up of each seedling, as easily as he knew the laces of his armor. both were second nature ). FOOTFALLS lift honeyed - emeralds toward the approaching guest, and a soft smile curls along full PETALS. ❝ Lady Greer, ❞ the GREETING spills of his tongue like a song, and Magni is hasty in attempting to wipe the SOIL for his hands, onto his trousers. ❝ they are not much NOW, but soon enough, there will be enough COLOR to rival the sunset. ❞ 

@fawnslay​ 

The elf at her side gave her a dazzling smile, but close as they were it was very obviously for show. It was too rigid, never meeting his eyes, and down by his own sides his hands had balled into fists.

“Assassin.” He murmured, then laughed as if she had told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. It looked downright deranged. “And they want what they usually want: the Herald dead. Probably with nasty things done to my corpse for good measure.” An old man pushing a wheelbarrow came the opposite way down the street, and the elf stepped around it, a hand going to her arm as if to help her, too. He didn’t remove it after, keeping up the facade. “I really am sorry to be so familiar, messere, but if you help me get away I’ll gladly repay you with whatever is in my power to give.”

she had recognized THE LORD HERALD at a glance ( leliana’s letters are descriptive ), but there’s no need to bother the poor fellow with questions about it all. better to get out of whatever this current danger is and then bother asking about everything going on with the inquisition. “figures,” greer glances back over a shoulder and flashes a smile to him, moving along with the offered hand and linking their arms, “no worries, herald. greer cousland - - - i don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. i traveled with your lady nightengale during the blight ; being followed by assassins isn’t new.” greer keeps her voice low and cheerful, her head tilted so only he might hear.

          ❛  Lady Cousland, a pleasure it is to see you again.  ❜  CONNECTION FROM PAST. Faces near forgotten yet not entirely. Faint glimmers of golden curls, glimpses of pale blue. A bird free to fly whenever the wind guided, soaring through clouds &&. embracing the sun.

          ❛  It’s been a while, hasn’t it  ?  Since we last met, that is.  ❜  /  @fawnslay​​​​  ♡  ‘  d  .

❝     YES,  YES-  I  KNOW,  I  CAN’T  DO  ANYTHING  RIGHT,     ❞          despite  the  roll  of  her  eyes  and  flippant  wave  of  her  hand  at  greer’s  grumblings,  she  smiles.     there’s  a  little  melancholy  twinge  in  her  chest,  she  pulls  too  hard  and  braids  too  tightly   in  comparison  to  their  mother.     but  greer  would  have  to  settle  for  elethea,  now  that  she  couldn’t  have  their  mother.     she  tugs  loose  the  black  silk  ribbon  that  had  been  holding  back  her  own  golden  curls.           ❝     if  i  don’t  braid  it  tightly  it’ll  come  loose.     i  will  be  gentle  with  the  comb,  however.     i  promise.    ❞