#cadashcrew

     The young dwarf, at least she appeared to be the youngest      in her group, seemed to always be talking. She spoke her      mind. Loudly. And Saarebas swore that she was never quiet.      Perhaps when she slept. Normally she would simply turn      around and find another place to be, Skyhold was large enough,      but she was trying to eat and the dwarf’s boisterousness was      doing nothing to help Saarebas’ headache.

“You seem to be looking at something, but I cannot tell what.”

        “How much longer do you plan on keeping me here exactly?” He made it sound like he was being held prisoner by some terrible being, when in fact he was just being kept in bed, resting, being fed by Igrid who had been kind enough to save his life merely a couple days before. And instead of being grateful, Clancy was nothing but miserable, glowering at the dwarf like a sick child.

“What does the Breach look like to your eyes?”

      Death was never a familiar sensation, no matter how many times it swept over Clancy like an icy blanket, smothering out the flame that burned inside him. He knew he needed to stop using blood magic, it was literally killing him, rotting his body from the inside out, but he didn’t stop; he couldn’t, not in his eyes. If he stopped mutating and poisoning himself with the forbidden form of magic, he risked being discovered by the Templars and his father who hunted him. Either way, he would be dead.

      So far, he had died exactly four times. Two were in his sleep, one was from his heart giving out, and the other was...he wasn’t sure. One minute he was walking through the woods of the Hinterlands, and the next he was waking up on the ground, gasping for air.

      This time, it was his heart again. A hand flew up to clutch his chest, breath catching in his throat while a terrible pain swept over him. The mage staggered and fell against a tree, eyes bulging and other hand fumbling for his satchel. He just needed a potion, that’s all and he would be okay, but damn it! All he had were lyrium potions, essentially useless bottles of shit. He gasped and wheezed as he slid down the trunk of the tree, hand tangled with his robes, tears filling his eyes, and then—

Tbh Inara’s feelings on allof the above are a pretty heavy mix of absolute horror and incrediblecuriosity.

Inara mostly FEELS SORRY forghosts. She doesn’t like fighting spirits, doesn’t like seeing them trapped.She thinks the afterlife should be freeing and relaxing, so seeing spiritstrapped either in servitude to something or unable to settle makes her really,deeply sad and she’s interested in finding ways to help them.

She dislikes the smell ofrotting flesh and REALLY dislikes getting her weapons stuck between bare bonesor when her physical attacks do little to stop the creep of some awful,magically-bound skeleton. She REALLY hates Revenants, because they’re wickedstrong and scary.