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Not today Justin
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@malcolmhxwke
"Oh, you have got to be joking. This is another one of the funny man’s put-ons, isn’t it?” Carver’s shoulders trembled as he scanned the area for any hints that Varric was involved. “You’re out there aren’t you dwarf?”
"This isn't a joke, Carver," Malcolm assured, though he couldn't help wondering if it would be less painful if it were. "And there is no dwarf involved, whoever it is you're talking about. Just me."
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ooc:
[ hiii i’m still alive! apologies for the extended hiatus, i’ve been busy unpacking and job hunting and arguing with my muses, thanks to that i’m gonna be pretty slow replying, i’m so sorry .n. thank you so much for being patient with me ]
ooc:
[ just a reminder that i’m busy packing boxes and moving this week so i won’t be around much. apologies to those waiting for replies, i’ll try to work on them .n. ]
If it’s family, you protect. Doesn’t matter who it is, blood or not.
Aveline (via dragon-age-quotes)
Broken Wings
The bite of the liquor was welcome, the heat in her empty gut smoldering pleasantly. Despite how hollow it made her feel, these sensations were familiar, reminiscent of better times spent not alone but, usually, in good company. Usually. However there was not much contained within this humble flask, certainly not enough to sate the mage’s unending thirst and she ultimately chose to flick the metal lid back into place before her unclawed fingers twisted it tight. Best to save it now, drink it later… When the nights got too lonely or her thoughts too heavy.
It was then her sapphire gaze fell upon a figure, quick to approach though it was likely they had not yet spied the wanted woman. To move now, away from his path would likely draw his eye and therefore his suspicion… To sit in place meant that he might see it fit to approach, to converse with her and this would possibly lead him to the discovery of her identity.
If he even cared… From what Marian had managed to gather from the crowds she parted, the general populace did not concern themselves with those of notable repute, but simply if one was a mage… or a Templar… Or was it simply surviving that they cared for? It was difficult to say, considering the turmoil that Marian found thriving in Ferelden. Turmoil she had inadvertently assisted in causing.
Marian did not move, simply pulled her cloak more tightly around her form and her hood further over her eyes. Parthalan was claimed from its resting place against the fence beside her and she found herself grateful for the thick swath of wrappings around it…. It would no doubt be recognized.
Would he stop? Or would he continue by in silence? It was these two questions that bubbled over and over themselves within her skull as the figure, distinguishable as a man with a heavy cloak not unlike her own, laid his eyes upon her and drew ever near.
malcolmhxwke
He paused on the path again, heart panging at the sight of Lothering. The scars from the Blight still lingered; scorched earth where crops once grew, skeletons of broken old houses. He'd hoped that people had returned, rebuilt. A vain hope it seemed. Malcolm continued forward nonetheless. He had nowhere else to go, after all.
As he neared the forgotten town, he realized it was not so abandoned. Someone stood by the remains of a fence, their figure hidden in heavy furs. Either to protect against the bite of oncoming winter or to hide their face. But who would hide themselves while in a place where nothing lived?
He couldn't help the paranoia creeping in, free hand slipping down to rest on his belt knife. Magic was naturally his best course of defense, but he didn't want to risk revealing himself. Then he spied the staff the figure held. A wild mage perhaps?
Only one way to find out.
He slowed as he neared them, his legs and feet still throbbing, forcing him to lean heavily on his staff. Pulling his hood back a little he gave them a weary smile. "Good morrow, ser. This may seem a foolish question, but do you live in these parts?"
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[ღ]—— Her lip curls up in disgust at that and she groans. “But papa they taste nasty.” Her head flops back against him as she tries to stare up at him with a pout. “Mama says they’re good for me but they have the worst taste!” Of course, the biggest travesty in a little girls life; eating her greens.
He chuckles. "I actually quite like them. But then I'm strange that way." Malcolm winks and gives her a gentle squeeze. "But bad taste or no, you do need to eat them. They'll help you grow stronger so that one day you'll be able to best me." He started tickling her again, both to prove his point and bring a smile back to her sweet face.
"What? What do you mean by that? I— father?"
Malcolm steeled himself and nodded. "Yes. It's me."
bitofatit started following you
"Carver? Maker's mercy, is that really you?"
ooc:
[ Apologies for the absence, work kicked my butt. I’ll start slowly but surely getting replies out ]
She clapped as she wiggled to be put down, her hands holding out to see the book. Dark eyes wandered over the pages as she sat down where she stood, setting it in her lap to read over it a little bit. “What’s it about Daddy?” What was the story like? Had he read it before? She liked Foxes.. they were clever. And sometimes they were brave, her mind was going a million different ways, his curious little one. A big wide smile crossing her face at the prospect of a new adventure inside a book.
He scooted closer and put an arm around her. He loved and admired his daughter's curiosity, even if it did occasionally frighten him like her adventure into the trees. She had such a sharp mind and anything he could do to encourage that was a blessing. "It's about a young man, an Orlesian noble who became a clever thief and rogue. He and his companions fought against tyranny and oppression for years. They were very clever and very brave people."
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malcolmhxwke started following you
Emmett gently settled in his knees before reaching out, gently gripping Malcolm’s arm “I’m sorry, Father. I tried, really I did, but it just…it just slipped through my fingers.”
Malcolm grabbed Emmett's arm and pulled him into his chest, holding him there tight. His voice had fled, but he hoped the hug would convey that he didn't blame Emmett. If there were any guilt to be had, it was his own.
Broken Wings
The mage trudged on, her thick cloak wrapped tightly around her form. She knew this area by heart, even now after all of these years and despite the way that the Darkspawn had warmed the lands ability to grow and flourish. Her dulled hues, once bright even on her harder days, scanned the husks of once thriving trees for any signs of life. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, as the Blight had moved so powerfully through these parts that there was sure to be nothing healthy here for a long while…
Marian paused then, slumping against what remained of a fence. The Baker’s fence, if she recalled properly as her clawed gauntlet fell to the flask at her hip.
I should ditch the armor, she would think as her lips met the kiss of that cold metal a split second before the ale within. Too recognizable even with the cloak… But then, so is the scar on my face.
A heavy sigh left her as she recalled the moment of mishap that had resulted in the mark. A year or two before, Marian might have laughed at the tale. I mean, lighting ones head on fire was always something to chuckle over, but now? Now the memory hurt her.
It was of happier times, even with the pain. Back then, she had her father… Her mother…. Her baby brother and sister… Even at the worst of times, it seemed… So much more preferable to running, alone and without purpose.
Malcolm stopped at the roadside to catch his breath. Leaning against a tree, he reached for his water skein as he shook his head. "Maker, I'm too old for this." His legs ached from the endless walking. He didn't dare sit down for fear that they would mutiny and he would be unable to stand again. He couldn't really blame them. Over ten years of walking with hardly a rest? If he were his legs he'd mutiny too.
He chuckled softly at the thought of his recent adventure. Wandering all over Ferelden in search of his family, only to find that his family had left for the Free Marches. Go to the Free Marches and search all of it, only to find his family had returned to Ferelden. Malcolm couldn't help wondering if this were just a long and ill-humored jest for the Maker's benefit.
Still, jest or not, he wouldn't stop searching until he'd found them. And it felt good to be back in Ferelden. Like coming home. If an apostate could have a home.
He'd had one for a while. Here and there in Ferelden, until the Lothering house, when Bethany and Marian could hide their talents as easily as he could. They'd dug their roots deep there, deeper than Malcolm had thought. His heart ached at the thought of returning there, both from the proximity of home and the thought of its current state.
He took a gulp of water and straightened with a grunt of discomfort. He had no idea if his family would return home, but it was as good a starting place as any. Staff in hand he started down the road again.
"Well, when we came from Lothering mother had thought that Uncle Gamlen had taken care of the family estate while we were gone…" She started to explain to her father, "Turns out he gambled it away, so, Carver and I signed up to go on an expedition into the Deep Roads, if I had known what would happen down there then I wouldn’t of let Carver come, but it turned out well, I suppose."
Somehow Gamlen didn't surprise him much, he'd always been a bit of a weasel. But that things had been so dire his children had to delve into the Deep Roads disturbed him. Malcolm frowned, but nodded in understanding. "So long as he is content there, that is enough for me. What about you, Marian, are you well?"
malcolmhxwke started following you
“Bethany didn’t make it to Kirkwall, she got crushed by an Ogre while we were running from the Horde….Mother…mother was…..butchered….by a blood mage who was trying to bring his wife back. The only one who survived, if you can call it that, is Carver but he became a Grey Warden to combat the taint….”
Emmett hung his head in shame. If Malcolm had been there, they’d have all been fine, but they’d just had Emmett and so it all crumbled
Malcolm stared at Emmett for a long moment, horror sinking in slowly. He trembled as he eased himself onto the floor, chest suddenly tight, too tight to breathe. Grief overwhelmed him and he pressed a hand to his mouth. "...oh, Maker...I..." He closed his eyes tight and leaned into Magnum, trying not to cry.
[ i am the worst at replies today and i have no idea why OTL ]
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malcolmhxwke started following you
Emmett let out a shuttering breath before speaking again “Mother is…gone…As is Bethany…”
Malcolm froze, staring up at his son. "Gone...as...as in dead? I don't...How? When?"
malcolmhxwke started following you
“Mother was ecstatic. Said it made her feel like an Amell again.”
he replied. As he lead his father to the library, Magnum came running down to see who Emmett had brought home
Malcolm beamed and crouched down. "Hello, Magnum! It's been a while." He pulled a face as the dog began to lick his beard. "Speaking of Leandra, where is she?"
