#chantryprince

chantryprince

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dalishflame

lockhcrts

proditeur

cordemaris

vaillance

snufflesmajor

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Inquisitor!”

Lasair groaned, exasperated, and slumped back in her chair on the other side of Josephine’s desk. “Josephine, I am not getting married. Do you know how ridiculous that even sounds?”

“On the contrary, it actually makes perfect sense, for both yourself and the Inquisition,” the Antivan asserted. Somehow, she still had that stubbornly cheerful look on her face, despite what felt (to Lasair, at least) like hours of arguing. The woman’s patience knew no bounds.

If Lasair wasn’t so annoyed, she’d be impressed.

“A marriage is an excellent idea. The Inquisition is in need of allies in the Free Marches, firstly. And second, you are a beautiful young lady--you can’t tell me you haven’t received a single hint of a marriage proposal since becoming Inquisitor?” Josephine continued. “I’m told your parents already attempted to make a match of you and Prince Vael, did they not? They are encouraging this to move forward, after all.”

Lasair scoffed, arms folded across her chest. “That self-righteous, womanizing--”

A knock on the ambassador’s office door interrupted whatever Lasair was about to say, and Josephine hopped to her feet. The grin she wore looked ominously victorious, Lasair thought with some concern. “It seems he’s arrived. At the very least, you should welcome His Highness to Skyhold, Inquisitor.”

What Kirkwall lacks in trees, it at least makes up for in sea. It’s one of the few reasons Hawke puts up with the wounded coast. There are still times, even now, where her heart aches for the green and browns of Ferelden, but the way the sunset burns on the waking sea at least makes it bearable. Hawke regards the view now, ignoring the way her shoes are full of sand and the bone deep ache in her shoulders. “Would you look at that,” she says softly because there is only Sebastian with her, and she trusts him with softer moments like this. It’s probably against the Maker to grumble about His creations or something. Looking out at the orange sky she can almost understand how people can trust so deeply in Him. Almost. 

“Sunsets in Ferelden were always so different to this,” she says pulling her eyes away from the view after a moment or two. “No sea in Lothering, just a whole bunch of trees, but I grew up always moving around. The sunset hitting the Frostbacks is so bright sometimes people call it Andraste’s Pyre.” In her minds eye she can still see the mountainside glowing and feel the cold wind on her face. She misses it, but not as much as she once did. She glances at Sebastian from the corner of her eyes, deciding to risk her luck with her next question. She figures he needs to talk about his homeland sooner or later, now seems a good a time as any. “What about Starkhaven? I’ve never been. You could have purple trees for all I know.” 

idk how people can say they like fenris so much and then not pay attention to anything he says or does at all??? where does he have bad manners? where is he not well spoken & intelligent? where does he not laugh at every single one of hawkes sarcastic responses?

Ugh this, so much this ^^^

It was always weird whenever he stood among the candles and the statues, like the marbled carvings of the Chantry dared to judge him for dusting the floors with his very presence. He could still recall the words from that lifetime ago, how the Revered Mother of the tower Chantry floor had wanted it to be known that the doors would never be shut to his kind and he could come to express his worries at any time…

Maybe the Anders of that lifetime would have appreciated it, but the Anders of now had some concerns.

It was an uncomfortable wait for the archer, shifting from foot to foot while eying the statue. A glance to the left, a glance to the right… and well, now that he thought about it perhaps he could actually squeeze in one of those old prayers his mother had taught hm when he was a kid.