sᴘᴏɪʟᴇᴅ

yes for inquisitor oc or no way throw it out

this is my new favorite icon omg

         somebody stop me from making a blog for this tiny cinnamon roll

         “i do recall chest-plates, yes.” fingers drum against her thigh and hawke offers another far too innocent smile to the knight-commander. “am i cleared, knight-commander? if not i’m sure some of my friends would vouch for me.”

         “i had fallen into a fight with a group of highway-men who thought to assault me on my way to the chantry, knight-commander. i may have been spattered with a bit of blood from them, though can i be blamed for defending myself against a group of thieves?” it’s not a lie, as she had taken care of a group of men who had been filled with ill intentions.

         they don’t have time for this, for all this waiting around and puzzling things out ever so slowly. who knows when, and what, the grey warden’s next move might be. maybe hawke’s impatience is just because she’s always been the sort to simply rush in with little to no plan. making things up as they happen has always been her style. thus the champion’s near constant pacing through anteroom to the door of the war room and then back out again.          “what?” gaze snaps onto the ambassador as the other woman speaks, pale lips drawn into a taut line. “oh. no, i don’t need anything, ambassador. my apologies if i’ve been distracting you.” 

         “i must have left before the slaying occurred, then. have you any evidence that it was me other than a handful of people saying i was in the chantry? when the doors are left unlocked just about anyone can enter.”

sorry for not really being around today (yesterday? w/e), i’ve got some kind of bug and slept from after my chiro appointment at ten to about four/five, at which point i was just kind of. blech.

         “considering the amount of bloodshed that goes on any given night around here, i’m sure a dozen corpses is actually a rather small, overlook-able number.”

         “there are, i’m sure. they just tend to be few and far between. there’s no need for thanks. when i heard that corypheus had to do with the massive tears in the veil i had little choice, really.”

         “if you’re looking for somewhere with better alcohol and less thieves, you better head up to hightown. horrible company, though, or so i’ve heard.”

         “how could i ever be adept with a weapon that’s practically the size of me?” the blade is place unsteadily in his hand when he reaches for it. she’s not eager to accidentally swing the thing in some improper fashion and manage to sever a finger. or worse, really.          “well, you can remain sure you’ll be being dragged along with me for quite some time, then.” her lips quirk even further upwards as she watched him with the sword. it’s a skill she admires, proficiency with a blade, while magic can freeze and burn and shock it’s rather poor at slicing. hands move to pick up her staff from where it had been set against the wall and the weight of it is much more familiar as hawke reaches back to strap the weapon in it’s usual spot against her spine.

         “because you’ll do enough loathing for the both of us, hmm?” it’s bit out, teeth clacking down on the words and cutting them with sharp edges. “glad to know nothing’s going to change on that front.”