could that lass be i?

an independent & selective canon-divergent warden mahariel. revamped 9/21. loved by puck.

carrd. // memes.

if it were possible to give them PROPER BURIALS esyllt would ; it would grind their party to a halt and be an inordinate amount of time, but she would. these people were not turned into these THINGS of their own free will - - - red lyrium slipped covert into shipments, taken unknowingly by the rank and file of the templars, blood turned crystal and eyes hazy. the image of cadoc like this makes esyllt feel ILL and the terrible thought that she hopes he perished elsewhere, before THIS, lurks in the back of her mind.

“as have i,” esyllt sheathes her daggers and rubs bloodied hands off on her trousers. the daggers are reserved for CLOSE QUARTERS like these strange gardens of orlesian chateaus built in an ANCIENT BURIAL GROUND. the gaudy structures have never seemed in good taste to esyllt but it is especially garish in the emerald graves. “if you’ve the energy for it. my head is ringing.”

      ‘ i wouldn’t have offered if i didn’t, ’  idrilla points out while picking her way over to esyllt. it feels wrong, to stain the earth of the emerald graves with more blood, but they haven’t exactly been given a choice. and, she thinks to herself as she raises her hands to rest gently at esyllt’s temples, i think my ancestors will find it in themselves to forgive any violence on my part.  as soon as they pry the elder one’s grip from these forests, idrilla is going to find some way to celebrate. she thinks she has an old tevinter vintage stashed somewhere among her things; maybe she’ll pop the cork and invite the inquisitor to share a glass.

       after all, she knows how important it is to celebrate the small victories during war.

@soutarasyl​ said ;  ❛ i’m starting to think that this may indeed have been a terrible idea . ❜

is there such a thing anymore, when EVERY decision to be made seems to have some terrible caveat hidden within them? esyllt grits her teeth and takes a higher step over the corpse of a red templar ; she resolutely does not look down at it, at the face that could be familiar hidden within those terrible crimson crystals that jut at all angles from the shape that once could have been called a person. a sparking hand wipes a bead of blood from her cheek where a blow had landed. her ears are still ringing from the club-like fist.

“even if it is, there’s no turning back now.” though she does seem to SLOW, moving across the room to open a chest and peer inside with weary gaze. “if we leave and come back, they will have redoubled their forced by the time we return. “

      the former warden hums in agreement, sheathing her sword and tugging off one of her gauntlets to wipe at her own face. idrilla had always thought darkspawn were the worst enemies she’d ever have to face, but the red templars scrape her nerves raw. she doesn’t like the order—hates it, even, for all it took from her & all it laid on her shoulders—but there is no justice in the monstrosities corypheus has turned these men and women into.