#dalishflame

"Hi, yes, I, uh - " Alistair's ears are red, and it's not just from the cold of Skyhold's altitude. Most of the redness in his features does come from the wind - he an his entourage have clearly been travelling with haste, and as Atreion greets him he looks and feels more and more eager to get inside and share his news. "Sorry for the surprise visit, I did try to warn Lady Montilyet in time but - I brought you something. Well, a little something. A tiny something but it's time sensitive up here so I wanted to make sure it got here safely - "

But he's rambling already, and he can tell it's because he's so nervous. He gestures to one of his attendants to step forward and they and a couple of their companions bring forth a large box that's been strapped down on one of the wagons. They open it to reveal a large chest of dirt.

I'm finding it harder to be a gentleman every day. - Bertrand

The White Stripes - White Blood Cells Album Lyrics Prompts

Bertrand raised a brow, cup of wine halted partway to his mouth.

"Had you ever been a gentleman in the first place?" he asked, not bothering to hide the note of incredulity in his voice. Of course, he could understand the sentiment; his own patience with the nobility of Orlais wore thin at the best of times. For a backwater elf like Atreion, he imagined there was no inconsiderable amount of strain in dealing with obnoxious courtiers.

Closed Starter || @dalishflame - Atreion ||

ᒥ🕷ᒧ—      It wasn't uncommon he found himself alone at the tavern. Not many sought his company, and he preferred it that way. Never had he been one for small talk. And when he was found himself seated at the bar there was only one thing on his mind: drinking. Already he had paid the barkeep and in his hand was a tankard of ale. Rinnill sipped on it slowly.

He had been in this town longer than he normally would have been, but he had finished the quest he had taken the tenday before, now he felt he earned at least a night of rest before he moved on to the next town.

Nym was somewhere other on the Ethereal Plane, no spider in sight unless that sight could see onto the Ethereal Plane. He dealt with enough stares and judgement without his precious pet around, he thought it better she was hidden away.

You had wonderfully complex world building, and flavor characterization that intrigued me. Small tidbits and aperitifs about a character I wanted to know better.

Staying?

You made me feel safe about wanting to gush and croon over shared interests. I didn't have to mask around you. THAT. That right there is the biggest reason why I love you.

Cullen gives a soft huff of amusement at the attempt at a compliment, quirking a grin at the Inquisitor.

"Thank you, I think," he says. "I've dared not question who commissioned these rather vibrant jackets, I'm too worried I may not like the person after."

He tugs at the jacket in question, as if pulling at the hem might loosen it around the neck. It doesn't.

"You look..." he looks Atreion up and down, trying to find the best word to describe them. Handsome doesn't seem right for it, which is the first word he'd typically reach for, but it doesn't fit the luxurious flow of fabric that drapes round them.

🌑 . . . ╰──╮ Ivy and weeds reclaimed the crumbling stone benches in the neglected space tucked between run-down buildings, accessible only through a half-collapsed archway. Shadowheart had found this little sanctuary months ago by accident and as far as he could tell, no one else bothered with it. It had become his refuge. A family of stray cats had also moved in recently, it seemed.

The cleric knelt down and a tabby cat wound between his knees, purring, as he scratched behind her ears.

ㅤ❝Hi, Mittens———❞

His tender smile immediately vanished when he felt the presence of another person. Shadowheart’s hand jerked back as though he’d been burned ; or as though he had been caught in a forbidden act. Which, to him, it most definitely was. Dread, cold & heavy, settled in his chest. So many of his memories had been taken from him, but he still remembered with agonizing clarity what the Mother Superior had forced him to do to his pet mouse many years ago. If someone from the cloister saw this…

His heart had to belong to his Dark Lady alone.

He tried to excuse his weakness, telling himself that petting a stray every now and then couldn’t be too bad, right? Still… he was terrified these animals would be the ones to pay for his sentimentality.

Late Munday Meme

;; Besides rping and writing, I play video games and I DM for some friends for DnD. I've made a homebrew world(s) that I could gush about for AGES. I do collect things. I collect pins (of any kind), anything that looks neat or from a place I've visited. I have a curtain in my office that I'm trying to fill up with pins.