#askmaneatermildred

———   陰の太陽   ———

//I never got past the second, unfortunately. Someday, I’ll play the third; I remember feeling salty that Tevinter was basically not!Byzantium, and of course was eeeeevil and decadent, haha. Ping me if this happens, though - faith is my lifeblood!

{ooc} I do suggest the third one, as I rather like it I also have various issues with it, mostly with the pacing and things that could have been done differently late-game, but still. 

You do get a range of different perspectives on Tevinter in Inquisition, as one of your party members is from the ruling mage class, but if you choose to side with the Templars you also get to meet/fight against Calpernia, who has a very different view and background on Tevinter than Dorian does. And one of the minor-major NPCs that hangs around the Skyhold tavern is also from Tevinter, so you’re at least getting several different character views on the subject. Also the Big Bad throws some doubt on certain historical ‘facts’ that were supposedly Tevinter’s fault. It’s really very interesting.

That was entirely unexpected. From this foul dweller of the swamp the Pardoner expected no speak of Gods or redemption - Lords be damned, he barely even expected words. But after years of this holy work, he had most certainly learned that l’habit ne fait pas le moine, and nor did this woman’s lack of clothing made her a barbarian.

The that she would worry for her actions and her future seemed nearly absurd to the Pardoner. Luckily, he hid his confusion under the appearance of a compassionate smile, a chuckle.

“It is no sin to hope and have dreams, my daughter. The Goddess does not yet condone man for being good and pure at heart.”

askmaneatermildred

The water was cool.

It’d had been awhile since she’d let her feet drift through water that wasn’t blighted sludge, although she wasn’t uncomfortable with the reality of Blighttown; it was just that this was an entirely different feeling.

Mildred could feel the curious fish swimming buy after they’d realized she wasn’t going to seize them out of the water and eat them raw; the idea had crossed her mind, of course, but that wasn’t really the best way to make a good impression, even on someone who’d gone and killed you. That much - she remembered.

She’d taken time to get over the pain of having actually lost a hunt, or more accurately, being surprised by the skill of the lance-wielding man with the very… Emphatic laugh, but her sisters were fed and well - silent, for now. That brought with it a kind of freedom, and Mildred bore no grudges in this new world they lived in - though his had clearly been… Different.

Finding that place - Majula, was it? - Had seemed an impossible task, and none of the people she captured seemed to have a clue where it was. She’d grown frustrated and finally all but given up on crossing paths at all - but then…

Here, where the water was warm and the sun seemed welcoming - even if it was quiet, and she could only just hear the faint sounds of conversation around her - here, where it seemed like people without any set path were destined to cross theirs… Here was where she found herself, wondering if she might run into him again.

Placing a hand under her sack and feeling her face, Mildred grit her teeth. This was stupid - she was stupid. There was no way that guy would recall someone like her favourably, or see this as anything but an excuse to get revenge. Maybe it was, too - maybe she was fooling herself. But - even still - Mildred waited, enjoying the feel of clean water against her legs, and the passing of time.

She’d even brought drinks, of a sort.

To say that Maldron despised the woman was as wrong as to say that he was a mole that slept underground. He had enjoyed her sense of individuality- her unique nature. Mildred, her name was. As the wandering warrior approached the gates of Majula, his slitted helm scanned the horizon, simply looking out for any enemies of his currently making residence there. It was as he always did, making sure no trouble would befall him as he entered the fishing village.

When his gaze fell upon the burlap sack upon the head of a silhouette, Maldron felt something stop in his chest for a second. Memories of the snow-covered hunt returned to him, and a sadistic grin befell him. Oh, good times waited ahead. His footsteps were quiet as he approached her, a quick tap on the shoulder alerting her to his presence.

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you of all people here, my dear! How have you been?” His armored leggings quickly came off, and bare feet were placed in the water next to hers, and a soft chuckle came from inside the man’s helm. In a bare shirt and simple leather pants, which were quickly rolled back up, he simply kicked back and relaxed.

How long had it been since he was able to be as simple and divine in his sadistic tendencies- far too long since he’d been able to just be himself, in all the chaotic desire, with a kindred spirit, and not be beckoning for her head, or feel truly endangered.

For once, he felt free to embrace himself. With Cailyn and Ciaran, he was always cautious, apprehensive, not to let too much desire seep out, for fear of his rejection and abandonment... but there was no such paranoia here.

askmaneatermildred:

Gods, but it was cold.

The snow didn’t bother her so much - as a red phantom, Mildred was somewhat protected from the environment around her. And when she was on the hunt, everything else seemed unimportant… Even if she hadn’t intended to invade directly from Blighttown into - wherever this was.

But that Nicholai - he’d ran fast. She could still hear his screaming, or perhaps the reality-rending screech of his projectiles; she wasn’t sure which. Probably wasn’t used to being invaded himself…

Snow crackled underfoot as she sought him out, only too glad to follow the trail into some kind of building. She paused, letting the frost fall off of her and melt onto the warm ground. The breathing of - Wait. Breathing?

Mildred’s sack-clad face turned to face the source of the sound - hoisting her huge knife over her shoulders as she did. It was unmistakeable - there was certainly someone there, and it certainly wasn’t her prey.

Eleum Loyce.

How was it that Maldron found himself here? Heh... he didn't care, not as so many people fell into his trap like moths to the flame. So easy to trust a friendly looking phantom... But the man's screams as he ran up the stairs, right past the hidden invader had caused the unstable man to take a second. What had just happened?

As Maldron began to follow the mage's path, he heard weight creaking on the staircase. Another person? He took his spot again, and slowly but surely a woman- barely clothed, with a sack over her head, hoisting a large knife over her shoulder, came up the stairs.

Wow this woman looks threatening. Who walks around, almost naked, in the snow?Maldron frowned, thinking to himself. This woman was clad in red- the telltale sign of an invader. Like everyone else, he threw his arms out in welcome, lance still at the ready in case she sought his head.