#aposthates

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definitely not | no | not really | it's okay | kinda | yes | fuck yes | there goes my pants bonus: giving | receiving | both

she was exhausted -- that much was clear with her mumbled words to anders, a hand running over her face. she could feel the bags getting heavier under her eyes, could feel her gait slowing and shoulders slumping. hawke was running herself RAGGED. between the bandits and the gangs throughout the city, the viscount thinking that she was some sort of MIRACLE worker, and everyone's problems (which they were allowed to have! but andraste's flaming tits -- there sure were a lot of them!), hawke just felt like she was falling APART.

his question forced her out of her stupor, eyes sore and ever blinking as a sigh escaped plush, frowning lips. "i can't remember the last time i was alright," came a dry remark forced through a chuckle -- ever the jokester. she was sure on her deathbed, she would have one last smart remark to make.

she could FEEL his gaze, didn't even need to meet his eyes to know exactly how he was looking at her. and she felt... small. bare. like she couldn't HIDE. his suggestion almost made her wince. she DID need help -- but how much? more than he could provide, she was sure. and nobody should have to give that much help. she shouldn't have to take and take and TAKE. a sigh at his proximity and for once, she just wanted to lean against him -- against SOMEONE. "i just need a moment. or twenty. maker -- i'm sorry, anders." guilt seeped in. she wasn't supposed to be bothering him with her sorry issues. he had enough on his plate. she turned slightly, just enough to meet his eyes full on as her expression softened.

ellis had been trying to throw on his armor quickly as possible. he wore it nearly every day, regardless of his task. it was meant to be a statement that he would fight to live, a dare to anyone who would try to take that right from him.

unfortunately, every once in a great while, he had to shed his extra skin. it was uncomfortable to sleep in, especially when they were camping. it was never a function he was fond of, but he always seemed to be in need of. when he woke up, it was in a foul mood & putting the armor back on had frustrated him quickly. anders must have noticed, because he had offered a bit of help. ellis was very secretly thankful for his intervention.

it was terrifying, in a way. trusting anders with his defenses, with his life. some part of him was thankful that the mage cared enough to help him, thankful that he now had a hand in ellis' survival. it's often difficult to trust his new recruits. there were so many unknowns on the horizon & they would be a part of every single one. ellis' armor was more important to him than any shield or sword, it's what would save him. or maybe it was the man fastening the straps on his back that would be doing the saving.

    @aposthates  liked for a starter

the  clinic  is  quiet  for  once,  the  few  remaining  patients  already  sleeping  in  their  cots.  edmund  hawke  leans  casually  against  the  doorway as he watches anders tidy up,  arms  crossed,  his  staff  slung  over  his  back.

"you  know,  anders," hawke begins, his voice carrying that typical edge of dry humor,  i  think  you  spend  so  much  time  down  here  because  you’re  secretly  afraid  of  fresh  air.  what  is  it—too  sunny up top?  burn easily, do you? or  are  you  just  dodging  another  one  of  varric’s  stories?"

edmund, of course, knows it's deeper than that, but when can he ever resist some light teasing?

"not  that  i  blame  you,  mind," edmund sighs.  "if  i  have  to  hear  one  more  exaggeration  about  my  own  heroics,  i  might  start  hiding  too."

          ━━ KARL'S HANDS REST HEAVILY ON ANDER'S SHOULDERS, BEGGING THE MAGE TO LOOK AT HIM ; yet Anders persists his work, swaying on his feet as his magic sputters.

          ❝ Let me, ❞ Karl says quietly into Anders' ear, stepping beside him.

          The fledging healer hovers his palms over Anders', eyes fluttering closed as he strains to channel his own Spirit within. Compassion stirs weakly as Karl's brows knit. The Fade called to his fingers coalesces thinly above the back of Anders' hands, using the mage as a conduit as though he were a breathing staff ; steadying the flow of his magic.

          The wound he has labored to heal knits gradually, leaving a puckered scar that would've otherwise been smooth if Anders hadn't pushed himself so hard.

          ❝ There, ❞ Karl half groans, half sighs, nearly stumbling.

          His head vibrates as Compassion recoils like an overstretched band of leather. He breathes deep a breath of mana and reaches again for Anders' shoulder as the injured man eases himself off the table with effusive gratitude.

          Assortment of Dialogue Prompts | Accepting

          ━━━ KARL WASN'T ENTIRELY SURE HIMSELF, BUT HE WASN'T ABOUT TO LET THAT GET IN THE WAY. He smiles despite the uncertainty, the Spirit within him aching at the heavy bags under Anders' eyes ━━ the gauntness of his cheeks. The compassion is raw and new, intense as a wound and he feels it everywhere. Perhaps that is the only reason Anders has finally conceded to rest.

          ❝ I will not move an inch of my own volition, ❞ Karl promises, a hand cupping the other mage's cheek, gentle thumb across the protruding bone.

          Pointedly, he sits on the floor next to Anders' bed, knees folded with idle hands upon them.

          ❝ Now sleep, ❞ he instructs, though the words may have been teasing years ago, they sound beseeching, like a plea. ❝ I will be right here. ❞

@aposthates inquired : there's more that you aren't telling me . inbox prompt : the dragon's hoarde ( fantasy - based prompts ). prompt status : accepting !

𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍  𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒  𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅    against  any  would  -  be  tells  that  could  fuel  more  of  the  other's  accusations .  lying  came  easy  to  solas  ,  even  after  awaking  a  millennia  from  the  last  time  his  feet  had  touched  solid  ground  ,  now  surrounded  by  those  who  did  not  know  their  world  was  but  a  fragment  of  what  he  once  called  home .  a  home  he  destroyed  in  a  haze  of  grief  and  desperation  ,  one  he  sought  to  revert  now  that  all  the  fractures  the  fade  had  left  both  on  and  in  his  physical  form  had  healed .

ㅤㅤㅤ❛  perhaps  ,  though  i  imagine  there  are  many  things  one  would  want  to  keep  close  to  their  chest  ,  no ?  ❜  through  effort  his  tone  is  even  ,  there  is  no  hiding  how  pointed  his  words  actually  are .  the  mage's  free  hand  moved  to  rest  against  his  own  staff  ,  leaning  his  weight  against  it  with  a  tired  hum .  though  the  other  mage's  curiosity  was  understood  ,  there  was  a  slight  exasperation  on  the  elf's  part  at  having  to  weave  lies  that  would  be  stable  enough  to  last  for  as  ever  long  as  they'd  be  in  each  other's  company .