Feb 15, 2015
My hair is red, my armor is blue. Shem poetry's vile, and so, too, seem you.
" Says the one who holds the aura of a woman. A haircut is in order, yes?"
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My hair is red, my armor is blue. Shem poetry's vile, and so, too, seem you.
" Says the one who holds the aura of a woman. A haircut is in order, yes?"
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dalishcommander replied to your photo:My Tumblr Crushes: dalishcommander...
/whispers elf fetishist
/whispers gtfo you murderous bastard
"What did you just call me?"
"Stupid," she repeated, stabbing the needle into his shoulder. Perhaps the added pain would encourage him to learn that not all fights need to happen. "I think you've let all that hero talk go to your head. Either that or you're just too sodding brave for your own good. Or both, that's always possible."
Finishing the stitches, she set to wrapping the injury, careful not to make the bandage too tight. "There is no shame in running away, you know," she muttered, voice quieter now. "Realizing that you could be out-matched and escaping, that's a survival mechanism. It keeps you alive. And unless I'm wrong you seem to enjoy living well enough." She tucked the end of the bandage inside the wrap and collected her kit, dusting herself off as she stood up. "So you might want to consider it for next time."
"Then you’ll be a suitable teacher." The Warden declared, tilting his head toward the other elf. If there was some etiquette that Reinier was meant to follow in the presence of another elf, he was entirely unaware; this Antivan assassin he’d found himself in the company of was the first that he’d actually had lengthy interaction with outside of his own clan, and he seemed to be much more human than elf, in terms of mannerisms.
"I once thought that killing humans, other elves, dwarves, would all be no different from any of my other hunts. However, I see now that there’s something more to it. I want you to teach me."
x
The pretty Warden was direct— an admirable quality, to be sure, even among rogues. Expression thoughtful, Zevran took the completely reasonable opportunity to look him over, his fingers tapping absently on the hilt of one of his throwing blades in a tell he hadn’t bothered to train himself from.
"You wish to learn the finer aspects of dual-blade combat?" Pushing off the wall he’d leaned against, he circled Reinier, taking note of his weapons, the angle of draw, the patterns of wear on the hilts as he paused once more before him. “Or do you speak less of bladeweaving and more of the game of shadows?”
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"You keep going and leave me here." (scenario: fresh Grey Warden Reinier meets Seryn for what they both think is the final time at Ostagar.)
"Reinier..." Was he aware of what he was asking her to do? Leave a friend behind? Her closest, truest and only friend? To leave, with all her pain and secrets?
On the other hand, if things took a turn as bad as she expected, she had to take Carver. Leave and find Bethany and Mother. She squeezed her eyes shut, then gave him a nod.
"But if you die, Maker help me Reinier, you'll regret it!"
-X-
Reinier you are literally the worst.
The clever Dalish elf had left a warning scribed on the sleeping Champion's face in ink-- "Highly flammable due to alcohol levels--do not store near open flame."
It took El a few minutes to decipher the writing with a mirror. When she finally managed it she collapsed into a fit of giggles. "I need to send that man a bottle," she gasped after her laughter had ebbed.
