heart of a lion

“This one in particular seems like there is more than the usual.” The Reaver made a slight face as she poked the dead creature with the pommel of her dagger. While she agreed to bring it in after an encounter for the researchers in Skyhold to take apart, it still gave her a feeling of dread whenever she came close to it.

     The night breeze brushed against his face, chilled cheeks ignored to admire the twinkling stars against the sky near Skyhold’s surrounding walls. A someone who for most of his life has been spent in the cold, the winds were nothing to shiver about. 

His mind lingered on the various list of duties and missives he needed to go over before daybreak. The gaze on his face lingered on the dark for more than a moment, getting lost in his thoughts until he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder. Jolted back into the present, the rogue turned his head towards the other and blinked slowly. 

This new order, birthed from the fallen Chantry. Shale hadn’t failed to take notice of the gigantic gaping hole in the sky during the time it was there, either. It had been roaming the Brecilian Forest when the breach appeared, and though initially alarmed, Shale decided that whatever it was, it was more of a threat to the frail squishy humans. Not it. No, it was hard stone. A few demons posed little threat.

But then came stories of a talking darkspawn with a new archdemon. A new blight. The breach being closed, the Inquisition gaining fame and power. Shale had no interest in the Chantry. If a bunch of pitiful priests wished to squabble about trivial issues all day, accomplishing nothing and praying away to a god Shale did not believe existed to hear them, well, that was their business. Shale wanted no part of it. But this Inquisition, its people…their accomplishments reminded the golem of a certain group it had once traveled with. And the archdemon was all too familiar. 

It was lucky sometimes, Shale thought, that Fereldens were so incessantly chatty. Else it would never have known of this Inquisition, nor of anything else. And it certainly wouldn’t have found out where the same Inquisition’s Commander might go to unwind. Shale did not possess ready means of finding the Inquisitor, so the Commander would suffice. It would be well enough to satisfy the golem’s curiosity - or so it hoped.

But upon arrival, upon seeing the Commander’s face, Shale was given pause. It knew that face. Last it had seen the other, the face had been accompanied by a Templar uniform; Shale was mostly unaware of the war. Knew only that the mages had forgotten their place and corruption had grown in the Templar ranks. The former seemed a familiar problem, and Shale felt no pity for any of the mages who had died. Perhaps that would explain why this one no longer wore its uniform; perhaps it had quit? Shale would have. Regardless of potential reaction, the golem opted to address the other directly upon entering the area.

“I would speak with it, if it is willing to answer. I believe I met it once, did I not? In that abysmal tower with all the pathetic squirming little mages, yes? It did seem in much distress at the time, I would not be surprised if it has forgotten. I would like to ask about this ‘Inquisition’.”

There was no mistaking its approach: the ground rumbled underfoot as the formidable creature stepped closer to him, eyes and runes glowing icily. A lesser man might’ve soiled his pants at the sight of it alone. And when the golem spoke, its gravelly voice briefly transported him back in time – back behind a hissing magic prison. Squaring his jaw, he rid himself of the unbidden recollection. Cullen nodded once, allowing it to speak further.

"On the contrary; I remember all too well.” As much as the entire encounter with the Warden and Company felt like a twisted fever dream... Even now, as the golem stared down at him, he was finding this reality hard to believe. There was one time in his youth he would gaze up at the intimidating statue in the middle of his humble village, its arms outstretched in a silent scream to the sky. Cullen thanked the Maker that the golem’s memory didn’t precede the Circle Tower, nor could it feasibly predict what a young boy might become over a decade later.

Yes, thank the Maker indeed.

She wasnt the worst flat-mate on earth. Sebastian, her twin, was defiantly more boisterous, liked to cook for everyone in the flat, took the dogs for long walks while Margaux was the quieter of the pair, was either at work or in her room, rarely using the common areas and keeping quiet during her weird hours.

With Sebastian at an art residency in Manchester, the house was much much quieter. And Margaux lost her usual model.

Crit always said that she needed to vary her models more but… Margaux isn’t great at the whole ‘people’ thing.

Frustrated, jaw clenched she brushed the canvas with gesso yet again, her seventh coat of it, she could swear. She almost throws her big stained brush at her water mug, but she doesn’t want to break it and re assemble it again. Looking around, her room was an absolute mess, crumpled up toned paper, multiple printed out references…. Fuck.

its due tomorrow too.

A nap would do. Just a few minutes, or perhaps thirty... That’s all Cullen wanted. The world became darker... more muted... Suddenly, sharpness met with a soft voice. The knock rattled him out of his half-asleep stupor, and a frown dragged the corners of his mouth down shortly thereafter. Such a shame he couldn’t get what he wanted. 

Slowly, he roused from his bed to answer the door.

Send a symbol for a thread based on these prompts:

🌠Stargazing

🌼 Picnic in the garden

🍭 Candy shop sugar high

🔥 Cozy autumn bonfire

☁️ Cloud-watching at the park

⛲️ Cooling off at the fountain

🦋 Butterfly garden visit

🍷 Sharing wine at sunset

🐚 Collecting shells at the beach

🍄 Mushroom hunting in the forest

1. Where were they born? What is the story behind their birth, if any?

2. Has their living situation changed from when they were born?

3. What occupations did their parents have when they were born? Did this job influence your muse in any form?

4. Did they have any childhood enemies? Any friends? Enemies that became friends?

5. What sort of religion was practiced in their home? Did religion play a role in their upbringing?

6. How many siblings did they have? What was their relationship like? Were they an only child who wished for siblings?

7. What is their fondest memory? Their worst?

8. If they could name the worst moment of their life, what would it be? Did this change them as a person or change how they perceived the world, themselves, and others?

9. If they were to make a timeline with their life events, which ones would they list? Which would they leave out? 10. What was the hardest lesson they had to learn as they got older?

11. What occupation did your character want to have growing up? Is this the same as what they wish to be, or are in, now?

12. Did they face any kind of bullying or abuse growing up?

13. Are there any moments of their past they keep secret?

14. Did they live near extended family in the past? How did this shape their environment? Are any of their relatives near their age? What are their feelings towards extended family in general?

Blessed are they who stand before The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.

Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker’s will is written.

—Canticle of Benedictions 4:10-11

When your VA is giving you bad rep...