#bitingchill

artificial brightness that burns the lid of her eyes, the sun reflecting from powdered flakes that drift, dust her lashes and burn her throat, blinking once twice thrice, palms shivering, shakings in the folds of her dress;; white is cold, brutally so, no color no life just the burn of it, the memory of it, the cold of it under her fingers, gnawed down deep in her bone lasting long after the ice and snow has given way to the ravenous bite of spring;; the herald of a new season welcoming.  

lmao. but. a dark skinned /not mage/ little girl given up to a lesser noble house. vivienne keeping tabs on her child who is no longer her child because she feels like she gave up the right of motherhood when she entered the game. the inquisitor finds out, demands answers, and when asked she spits, "let them say i have not suffered. let the say i have not sacrificed." 

brb viv-mun is currently emotionally incapacitated by own words 

He laughs. "That's more like it!" He pats her on the back and downs another shot of whiskey.

"I don't know if you've thought this through."

"Inquisitor, I heard that you  found some old tomes on  your last excursion.. Could  I trouble you for a chance  to look at them?" The elf's adoration of books  was well known by now,  through the ranks of the  Inquisition.

i'm way too lazy for that omfg. its also really, really fucking funny to me so i guess i'll leave it. more garbage for the garbage pile [dumps it all over iron bull's face.]

"Why would you ask a question like that?!"