in peace, vigilance

friend: dude that's dark are you okay?

widdleolgideongleeful:

[Your url but  you change it with the following criterion:

Every “i” is replaced by “iii” 

Every “e” is replaced by “c” 

Every “o” & “a” is replaced by “x”

Add “isms” to the end of it

     @sonofthegrey· can meet him in weisshaupt in 15 minutes for an ass kicking

      For a brief moment after he gave the order for his men to stand down, Inara allowed herself to feel relieved. However…unstable their relationship had been throughout the entirety of their betrothal—and despite all behavioral evidence to the contrary—she had never TRULY wished Alistair dead. Least of all by her own hand, and especially not when she felt quite certain he had no idea what it was he’d actually been fighting against. He clearly hadn’t known who he was really hunting.

        Releasing a slow breath, Inara’s eyes darted around at the remaining soldiers of Gwaren, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as they lowered their weapons. But of course, she hadn’t considered the confusion it’d cause her OWN companions. 

        Morrigan held a fireball aloft before a soldier who’d dropped his sword but not his shield, while both Daveth and Zevran cast raised-brow glances Inara’s way and Sten kept his sword at the ready. She suspected that somewhere among the trees, Leliana held her bowstring taught and trained on the very man Inara had subdued, prepared to fire at his first sign of treachery. 

        The harsh set returned to Inara’s shoulders as she drew her blade away from Alistair’s throat and took a step back, circling around to FACE him properly. “Tie up anyone who’s still alive. Have Wynne see to the wounded.” Her head barely turned as she issued the orders to Sten, his curt nod only visible in the corner of her eye as she kept her gaze resolutely on her would-be husband. 

        Inara waited until Sten had dragged his most recent opponent away before she spoke again. “You look like a man who’s been LIED to.” 

There was no relief however for him even when the blade was withdrawn, only an exhale as he felt he could breath properly and a hand lifted to touch to see if there was any blood. Alistair doubted it though, she had always been more skilled with daggers then he had been, never seen the point when a good longsword got the job done then dancing around with a smaller blade. But whatever ease of breath he’d regained was stolen away as she moved to stand in front of him and it was indeed Inara. He couldn’t mistake her face for anyone’s else, even dirty and bruised as she was.

Bite his tongue despite his doubts as his men were disarmed and bound, his own knees still in the dirt of this no-name clearing in the middle of the Bannorn. Hardly touched by the Blight yet, could almost imagine it was not threatening their land with the way the wind gently shook the leaves on the trees. 

“And you look remarkably well for a dead woman” Alistair retorted, hand lifting from his throat to wipe some blood from the corner of his mouth. Helmet knocked off earlier in the fight and somewhere behind him. Eyes flicked to her companions, lingering on the mage and the qunari in turn, before settling back on her.

      “Drop your weapons and call off your men.” Inara’s voice was low, but urgent as she spoke directly into Alistair’s ear. The moment she’d recognized him, she’d done the only thing she could: snuck up behind him while he was distracted by Sten’s great sword, kicked the backs of his legs in, and put a dagger to his throat as his knees hit the ground. As she’d expected, Sten hardly paused upon seeing her before he redirected his swing to knock away a nearby soldier attempting a flanked attack, mighty blows ringing against a shield bearing the familiar crest of the Mac Tir forces. “I don’t want to kill you, Alistair.” // @sonofthegrey· 

The voice in his ear was familiar but he had no time to chase that thought further before his knees were driven into the dirt, a dagger’s sharp edge to his throat. A sharp intake of breath and his chin tipped up as if that would help when all it did was give his attacker a clearer target to drag that dagger across. There was no more pain however and the young Mac Tir started to move to try to break free but the woman’s voice froze him in place as swiftly as a spell.

Inara.

No, no that was impossible. She had been slain at Ostagar, drawn into the disastrous plans of the Wardens and his brother-in-law. She was dead and yet when he twisted his neck he could just barely see her face, eyes widening.

“Hold!”

“My lord?!”