#ahvir

❝ You have that furrow in your brow, ❞ surprise beyond surprise : Dorian has left his alcove and is out amongst the rest of Skyhold !! Wonders may never cease, has the sky split open again, has Corypheus arrived on their doorstep ——— et cetera. Still, happening upon Ahvir is hardly the worst thing that can occur during a break from his research. ❝ You know the one, surely. It’s a sure sign that you’re irritated. Let me guess : another unproductive war meeting? More uppity nobles trying to get their way? Or, Maker forbid, more offers of hands in marriage? ❞ he speaks lightheartedly, amusement lighting his features / leaning comfortably against the wall.

Because I just realised I never posted this doof, but here we have a Breton OC of mine: Ahvir Beaumont!

Inquisitor Ahvir Lavellan was a beautiful woman indeed. And she’d been flirting with him all evening. More than once he’d about inhaled a drink over a subtly placed comment.

To be fair, he’d started it. Malachi wasn’t even so sure he knew how he’d gotten so close to her, so suddenly. Perhaps it was the cold. Her tent hadn’t the same material needed to block out the weather and his own winter clothes gave him only a little more armor to the weather. He lifts the side of the fur blanket he dragged along with him, opening the cover to her.

              far away a door opens and his eyes dart. his ribs shift, curl, settle to protect, but there are precious few who have free access to his rooms. he can hear the footsteps, can hear the movement, can hear her. his bones uncurl like a flower blooming and he settles once more, trying to make his way through another tangle, another knot. did his hair do this, back then? did his hair do this, before? before he became, before he fell, before he stopped, before he started.

              she enters his room proper and he turns, glances over his shoulder, meets her eyes and then turns back once more. says nothing; holds the comb gently and looks at himself: finally, finally, finally. pale face forehead scar dark hair dark eyes dark. he doesn’t look for long.

what’s my like vibe tho dude?? / accepting

ahvir . tomorrow . always looking FORWARD , at least , that’s what they say / look towards tomorrow , inquisitor . look towards tomorrow , so that in time you might be able to SAVE THEM / and tomorrow raises the sun in her hand that marks her with a NAME UNWANTED .

it would be easier to just be tomorrow . then there would be just the future / not the look of horror , pain , i shouldn’t have given her that staff , blood on my hands , rage in my heart / TEMPLAR like a burn , scalding . should’ve protected , but didn’t . / SHEM . should’ve said something , but didn’t . / their bodies like imprints in the back of her eyes . should’ve saved them , but couldn’t .

a smile on her face . SHE WASN’T AFRAID . she always knew he would help . just like she helped / she wasn’t afraid of him , but something else / failing , failing , the world on her shoulders . HOPE IS A CRUEL THING ; their hope is a burden / afraid of the loss of what she thought was HERSELF . not gone , suppressed . left in dark corners so that she could become what they WANTED .

tomorrow maybe their hands won’t drag her down . tomorrow maybe she’ll breathe finally , a breath she could call her own . 

tomorrow passes without reprieve . ahvir is a rusty chain , refusing to break  BUT SHOULD . but can’t .

❛ i’ll always be there to save you , ❜ she says , words caught in the familiar passing of laughter , of lack of seriousness . & yet , he knows , cole always knows . 

he looks up at her beneath the shadow of his hat . he says with a gentle shaking of his head , ❛ no . let me save you . ❜ 

   As many had said before--- it takes one to know one--- and oh, how Orsino KNEW the game of masks. Even now, despite that many of his previous faces had crumbled like ash between his fingers, he still played. Almost like an addiction, a SICKNESS of a mind that did not know how to stop because danger was always there. Someone always sought harm, he knew it. It was FACT. He had the history to prove it. 

   Which was why he had detected the slightest hints within Ahvir. The details that not even she picked up on ( that’s always how it went, revealing the face below the mask was always a mistake ). Unlike others, he did not look to BOND or find solidarity in another like him. Orsino looked at her and her youth. He reflected upon himself and his own age, and daringly touched how absolutely miserable he felt inside. Empty and lost, a web of lies, tragedies, and lies to hide the tragedy. He watched her spin her own web, and knew he couldn’t watch another trap themselves.