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//whispers if it’s on ur mind, you might consider changing it b4 it’s too late. don’t wait until u have 1000 posts and have ur blog for a year and a half to change. dONT DO IT

bloodydeeproads replied to your post: the question is…. how quickly am i goi...

//stares at u hard kATY WHAT DID I TELL U

          « Comfortably sheltered— Yes, and no. » He had used similar adjectives himself, once, with all the vitriol that could colour his voice. All the outrage that came with the memory of contentment and submission appeared in the wrinkles around his eyes and between his eyebrows, like a soft echo of the havoc of rebellion that would never leave his skin. « But whatever elves may be now, whatever remains, wishing to be one of you would be a greater defeat. » Becoming a Qunari, then, was a flight, a refuge and a surrender, and was no lesser fault. 

          His eyebrow remained arched. « And is this comparison to your old friend supposed to be a compliment, a statement or an offence? »

The elf talked in circles, and moreover, was more insufferably arrogant and, yes, holier-than-thou, than even any Qunari Hawke had ever known ... and that was saying a lot. Her amusement and her patience, such as they were, were fraying at the edges rapidly now. “Oh, yes, it’d be terrible to be me,” she said, deliberately flip -- and deliberately obtuse. “No one else could manage it with half my style. No, not even a quarter! It’d give me a bad name, if anyone else were me but me.”

Anders opened his mouth to retort but paused after her afterthought, lifting a brow suspiciously. “That was a rather drastic change of mind.” He hummed, thinking, her change of tone throwing him for a second. “If cats are planning something - world-domination, let’s say - I wouldn’t be opposed to it. But I don’t think they’re dangerous; they just like personal space. That’s not a bad thing.”

Margaux laughed, raising a brow. “Drastic? Well, I have to keep you on your toes, Anders. You’d find me boring if I was too predictable, don’t lie!” She shifted her weight, suddenly wondering if they were still talking about cats. The comment about personal space seemed rather on the nose. “I’m still going to have to keep a close eye on the cats,” she added, looking around with exaggerated suspicion. “Juuuuuust in case. Suppose that means I’ll have to spend a lot of time in your clinic.”

fireinherveins:

There was no sense in reining in her ire now, the venom she felt searing through her veins displayed in equal measure in Hawke’s expression, cutting through her voice. Revka’s shoulders drew back into a steel-rigid line, chin lifted and snarl set free to twist its way across her mouth as she glared up into the human’s face, undaunted as ever by a size difference which would no doubt seem comical in any other situation. Let her spout her threats all she liked. This Maker-forsaken city might think her a force to be reckoned with, but here, now, she was proving herself nothing more than an annoyance.

“Awful certain of yourself for someone who doesn’t know a blighted thing,” she bit back, fingers flexing tight enough to see the scars across her knuckles flash white. “My business with Anders is just that. My damned business. I don’t need some shem prodding her nose in telling me how to handle it.”

Her head jerked to one side, mouth pursing to spit at the ground before leveling the woman a last hard glare. “Could say the same to you, Champion,” she said, boot heel grinding into the cobblestones as she spun herself about, back in the direction of Lowtown and her rented room at the Hanged Man. “But a dead god won’t do you shite against me.”

It was evening before Anders knew it; he’d meant to make his trip to and from the Wounded Coast in a much shorter span, and as he walked down the tight, winding alleyways of Lowtown, he silently cursed himself. While he could afford the time out - he’d made sure what patients he had were tended to before he left - he could still feel guilt pressing in on him. He’d been running low on herb stock, sure, but he hadn’t meant to squander this much time. The thought of refugees having to turn away when they needed his aid made his stomach knot, and he found himself walking faster for it.

It wasn’t so late that he needed to keep a hood up, but the sun had began setting earlier these days, leaving shadows to paint Kirkwall’s dirty walls darker sooner, and it was near instinct for him to have one pulled up just in case. He thoughts had wandered to the hidden door near the alienage - the one which would bring him down into Darktown’s depths - when he spotted the back of Hawke and… –that voice. He felt a rush of something take hold of him as he faltered in his step, and his chest went tight. While it’d certainly been a few good years since he’d seen her, there was no mistaking that voice or that attitude. Could that really have been Revka, his previous Warden-Commander? What was she doing here, if so? Did she come looking for him? He moved forward, now spun on by dangerous curiosity, and he came behind Hawke, touching her shoulder gently.

“Mar? Who was that?” Anders came to stand beside her, eyes looking out into the growing dusk in Lowtown, searching. “Are you all right?”

It was probably lucky for both of them that the so-called Hero had spit on the road and not on Hawke herself. Margaux didn’t think she’d have been able to contain her temper at that point and they’d have wound up rolling around in the street biting and scratching like a pair of furious cats. Hardly dignified, and given how well-armed both women were, likely to result in more than a just few claw marks.

Her eyes narrowed to gimlet points as she watched the elf’s tight-shouldered frame disappear into the glowing gloom of the Lowtown streets, back in the direction of the Hanged Man. At least I know where to find you, Hawke thought, distrustfully. Varric and Isabela would keep an eye on the elf, at least. Revka Tabris would not be able to go anywhere in Kirkwall without Hawke knowing about it.

The sudden footfall behind her had Margaux tensing toward readiness, but the voice was familiar and she relaxed just as quickly, leaning ever so slightly into the light touch on her shoulder. Turning, she grinned up at him; she hated that look of worry and dismay on his angled features. Nothing she did or said ever quite smoothed it all away, but she did try.

“Met the Hero of Ferelden,” she answered lightly, aware that no matter how she told him, it would likely come as a bit of a blow. She might as well try for humor.