#fadedancer

    “—not that I don’t appreciate your delightful company, but I’m starting to suspect you don’t have any other friends to hang out with.” It’s getting dark outside, shadows gathering in the alleyways, every thug and petty criminal’s best friend; the dim lantern light within the tavern had felt warm and welcome as he’d pushed through the door.

It’s by no means unusual to find familiar faces already in the Hanged Man whenever he happens to return there, but there’s only a handful he’ll find brazenly making themselves at home in his rooms. He settles into a chair, kicking his boots up onto a low table.

there  is  an  intensity  to  him  that  varric’s  words  didn’t  quite  manage  to  capture,  for  all  his  skill  with  them,  an   intensity  that  seems  to  flow  from  him  with  graceful  urgency.  he  also  bears  that  strange  loveliness  that  all  the  dalish  possess,  she  thinks,  though  his  has  clearly   been  marred  by  cruel  hand.

it  occurs  to  sidri  then,  that  she  is  very  likely  staring,  which  is  both  unbecoming  and  rude,  and  blinks  herself  back   into  focus.  “i’ve  heard  a  great  deal  about  you.  varric  has  been  highly  complimentary,  i’d  have  you  know.”  a  small  smile  is  offered  then,  faint  but  genuine  and  offered  not  as  inquisitor,  but  rather  just  sidri.  “the  inquisition  and  i  welcome  you.  any  friend  of  varric’s  is  an  honored  guest  within  skyhold.”

at first there’s thought on a balance precarious - but, as luck would have it, wreathed flowers and stems had chosen to effectively entangle themselves upon the healer’s mess of hair. “wh--- ” 

aurelio and his entourage await the inquisitors arrival in the great hall.  the advisers had scurried to fetch the inquisitor as soon as his holiness arrived.  no one wanted to be alone with him. who can blame them?  even he cannot.   

there is a small smile across the divines lips when the herald arrives !!   in truth .. he hopes it’ll act as an olive branch.  aurelio has never negotiated an alliance before, and the herald has reason to hate him  .. though the ancient part of him feels completely at ease with the situation, the human part of him is a mite wary.  somewhere deep inside the inner mechanisms of his mind, his father whispers that asking for help at all is a weakness, especially from one so against his homeland ----- and he tries his best to ignore that foolish notion. 

[  injury starters  |  still accepting  ]

@fadedancer​ said: “What happened to you?” (Isabela)

          “The Qunari’s what happened.”

          She gestures to the crumpled form on the ground as she wipes her mouth, upon which a spout of fresh blood had poured over. Her upper lip was swollen and turning purple, but her nose got the worst of the hit.

          “Stiff punch from that dead fellow over there. Knuckles caught underneath my nose. Don’t think it’s broken, but it sure as hell stung when it happened.”

          Her eyes glance down at her tunic. Red was splattered across the white cotton, a mix of her own crimson and the dead Qunari’s. Well, he probably bled more to be honest, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was stopping the bleeding on her own face before people started calling her Isabela the Red. Or Isabela the Bloody? Isabela the Sanguine Siren? Something like that.

IT’S TAKING ALL OF HIS MIGHT NOT TO WRETCH.       aveline had sodded off a while ago: to wretch in silence, he feels, bitterly.      unashamed.    alone.  no one to judge her. 

head lolls back.  he swallows at the sight of it, all the blood on the floor --- his own blood was fine, others seemed to ... put his stomach into a state of ... disquiet.              ❝  fenris ----- please, i think he’s dead now.  ❞    the sword thunks wetly into skull once more, and honeys nostrils flare.        poor bugger.   it were only some thief, some bandit in the night, in the streets of lowtown.    what a grand fate for such an insignificant man.

continued from [x]

Zevran was merely being glib--though with more than a grain of truth at the center--and hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction from Fenris. Stunned into silence, he could only blink, and his ears flattened. 

He did believe that was the first time anyone had complimented him so aggressively. How could anyone respond to that? 

“Like a man fleeing a burning building,” Zevran said after a long moment, his voice quieter. “You leave behind everything--every quality--you can afford to lose. What remains, you would hardly call a house. It is the same for a man.” 

Almost imperceptibly, he closed himself off, shoulders drawing in closer, shying away from Fenris. He was suddenly very fascinated with something between his boots, and didn’t dare meet Fenris’ eyes.