True Fucking Grey

Mother Adaar was a large woman.

Not just tall – fuck, she was Tal-Vashoth, there were no short Tal-Vashoth to begin with – but fat. It was what her lifestyle had produced, and she loved every inch of her body with a reverence that bordered on worship. There had never been too much food under the Qun, only ever enough, exactly the right amount for them to stay healthy and well, but never enough to gorge on.

Once she told Unica that everything in her old home had been counted – every ounce of flour, every piece of bread, every egg, every morsel on her table. Sure enough, Mother Adaar had never gone hungry then – which they now sometimes did, in long winters or during times of prosperity and peace when work was hard to come by – but, Mother Adaar said, she had also never known fullness. Feeling as if her body nearly burst, as if one more bite could rip her stomach open. And hunger, she said, just made indulgence even sweeter – even though she hated to see her baby girl go hungry, her little cup who was too young to understand the nuances of pain, of suffering. But hunger, she told her, made you appreciate food more, any kind of food, and it made you stronger, like every kind of suffering did. They would always eat again – sometimes there would just be more time in between their meals.

And Unica nodded at those words, even though she sometimes, in dark, cold nights, when her horns had still been nothing but fuzzy stubs, had found herself wondering how it would be to live in the Qun – to live without hunger, like her mother had described it, but without freedom too.

And so hunger became freedom, and indulgence became bliss. Unica admired her mother, everything she did, everything she was, every ounce of fat and every string of muscle and every purple or white or red scar that littered her body. Her mother had turned her body into an instrument of her own freedom, had made it broad with fat and muscle, and whenever she’d laugh, whenever she’d yell, whenever she’d fight, that large, fat, strong body of hers would quake like mountains about to tumble.

"Courage…. That’s a difficult one…

Doing shit without knowing if it’s gonna pay off.Charging to your death with a battle cry on your lips.Going on and on day after day after day, even though there is no path and no goal and nobody else on the fucking road.Walking away from everything you ever knew with a big, fat smile on your face.

"Tal-Vashoth. We who rebelled for freedom. Tal-Vashoth. We who refused to be tamed. Tal-Vashoth. We who fucking escaped.”

"Can’t define an imaginary fucking concept, can I?"

{{Never fall for justice, child. Justice is nothing but the whim of those with power. Justice does not exist.}}

”Justice is what people with grudges call it when they take revenge. Justice is when somebody pisses you off and you cut their throat open for it - maybe on a larger scale, but that’s what people call ‘justice’.It’s a nice-sounding word, but in the end that’s all it is.

"Pain."

                                                                              Hot, searing, crushing, blazing.

        "Pain is a lot like sex.        Pain makes you feel more alert and aware than you could ever feel any other way.        Pain makes you realize that your body is a thing, nothing but flesh and blood and bone.

tacixus

(A note at the beginning of the letter: "This letter has been written at the behest of Her Inquisitorial Worship, Lady Unica Adaar. The writer of this letter, Lady Josephine Montilyet, takes no further responsibility for the content of this letter.")

"Mahariel.

What the fuck is this 'I am on my own quest' bullshit? You realize there are giant green cunts spewing out demons all over the continent, right? Also, there's a DARKSPAWN MAGISTER trying to take over Thedas! That's Darkspawn AND a Magister, you should be interested in that, fucking shit! The fuck are you on your 'own quest'?? What good is your quest going to be if the world is taken over by demons? Move your ass to Skyhold.