#chcngenation

He turns around at the voice and suddenly he is eighteen again, and in Kinloch Hold. The pain that permeated his whole body, the same as it was that time, this time by his own choosing, for now he knew that it was the withdrawl of lyrium and not blood magic. He had a few hallucinations at the beginning of this undertaking, but none had been of her...

His hand reaches, before drawing back as he remembered the visions that he had all those years ago. Visions that had taken his desire for her, and corrupted it with pain and pleasure as horrors were unleashed around him. The talk of romance has him swallowing, as he tries to push the memories from his mind.

"Eh." Bambi decides to reply, jumping from one rock to the other. "Not planning, but it's been known to happen." She speaks vaguely. Her recruit deaths are not caused by her, but Jehanne wouldn't know that yet. "Whether you live or die is up to you. Whether you follow me. Whether you have the fortitude I believe you to have." Bambi lands on the other side of the river. "I could do it here. But I'd rather not. If you are to die, I want you to be somewhere safe."

TRULY, IT WOULD NOT MAKE SENSE FOR BAMBINA TO SPARE HER ONLY TO KILL HER HERSELF BUT IT IS NOTHING THE TEMPLARS AND CHEVELIER'S HAVE NOT PULLED ON UNSUSPECTING MAGES AND ELVES. Bambina did not need to save her life to lower her guard for the kill, if she had truly wanted Jehanne dead she would've left her in the blood and dirt of Halamshiral and let monsters in armor finish the job.

"You would truly let me leave? If I wished it?" It does not sound like a lie but still she needs to know. Trapped in the Circle though they were, her fellow mages were still adept players at The Game, she could not trust most of them not to backstab her purely for entertainment.

She jumps to the next rock to catch up, foot slipping momentarily, cold water rushing into lackluster boots at the first second. Even as a girl, hiding and seeking with Antoine, conjured butterfly's to give her away, she had not felt as free as she does now, with the wind whistling through her hair and wet feel of her socks.

“Well, what have we here?” Gavriel’s red eyes glinted in the street lights as he stared down at the girl in the alleyway. He’d heard about what had happened to the Romanovs, even all the way across the continent. But from the accounts he’d heard, the entire family had been killed - so what was one of the Tzar’s daughters doing here in front of him? 

Send “Hello There!” to meet other muses / @chcngenationaccepting

Lucille Sharpe, found on @truthsecn

      There’s a blink with the greeting. Eyes lifting from the front counter that she found herself perched at. Such a loud greeting shouldn’t be such a surprise, it was a nightclub after all. At least, as the front predicted, the nature of the company kept inside were a secret that held a life of their own. And from the bright eyes of this one, it looks like she has no idea what sort of establishment that she would now enter. Was she even aware of the existence of kindred, or was she an addict coming for a taste of the vampire blood that her kind pursued as their next fix.

        She hums quietly to herself, and inhales the cigarette pressed between her lips and sits forward with the drop of her heel from the place inside of her chair so she could sit forward.

“Thank you for clearing that up,” Anastasia bristles, taking the few steps to snatch the bottle from her other half’s hands. “But I’m very much still breathing, God has deemed it fit that I continue to walk the earth. Can’t see what he’s deemed fit for you,” Her nose wrinkled at the smell of alcohol, having long since lost a never acquired taste for it, as she dropped the bottle straight into the bin.

“You need a bath.”

“I don’t need anything!” She shouted at the spectre before her, but the bottle of white wine was no longer there. If not a spectre, then perhaps an imposter. thos bloody women who only cared for the reward, not letting her por sister rest wherever the fuck in Siberia she was buried.

Demz says 💋 to Cullen

Anders looked up at the sound of someone entering the clinic, his heart aching at the site of Hawke. What he was needing to do.... what Justice was pressing him for... He did not think that she would approve, and he doubted that he was going to survive it. He was certain the archer would make sure of that. He was tired of people just standing there and doing nothing while mages were brutalized by the Templars. 

He had thought that the Circle in Fereldan was bad, but Sir Greagoir had never used the Rite of Tranquility as a punishment. And mages who had passed their harrowing as he and Karl had... it would have been unthinkable at Kinloch Hold to see a full mage made tranquil. So many great minds... lost. There was no justice in what was happening in the Gallows. There was no justice in what had happened to Karl.

The mages needed freed before he heard the Calling, the true Calling, not what he had heard when they went to that prison and found the magister from long ago. He was going to make sure that he made his mark on history, one way or another. Even if his name had been lost when he was a boy, he would make sure that mages remembered him as someone who fought for their freedom.

The mage glances back over again, seeing that she had not left just yet. A frown crosses his features, usually she tucked in to see him and make sure he was okay when it was obvious he was working. She must want something today, he found himself realizing, though what it was he did not know. She did not have Varric or one of the others with her, so he supposed it was something private.