#finaltalon

fight, fight, and fight. will it ever end? ( if it isn’t venatori, it’s darkspawn. if it isn’t darkspawn, it’s the antaam. ) a silent prayer is sent to the maker. florence wonders if it’s negated by the blood on their blade.

“ how can they not know ? ” there is irony to be found in her question. for as often as she doubts if she is happy, she shouldn’t judge those poor men. except she does, and does it without hesitating. “ it is as clear as anger, isn’t it ? either you are, or you aren’t. ”

she spares a moment and looks away from the book, pinning zevran with a no-nonsense stare. looking back, turning a page, and disappointment begins to set in. there is nothing of use to be found in it. 

@finaltalon for LITRIU

She'd more or less removed herself from the camp that evening, after having dragged back the game she and Whar had felled for Alistair and Sten to process and use. The wolf lays curled at the base of the tree that her ranger has climbed into- watching the perimeter, watching the camp.

She notices, of course then, when the Crow wanders out of the firelight and to the base of the tree she's sought out- she's not as high as she could be within it, only eight feet or so above him, and so it's a simple thing to lower herself a few more, until she's balanced on a slender branch just above his reach, tipping her head to one side.

"- Looking for something, or just restless?" The wolf below 'grins' at the Antivan, and Litriu's mouth twitches to an almost-smile that quickly fades.

"I thought the cold would have you staying in the firelight as l-long as possible." Bluntly stated; but not unkindly. She'd volunteered first watch alone- a habit, by now. After all- she's never actually alone. Somewhere in the shadows lurks her mountain lion too, green eyes glowing like embers.

an exposed flaw opens the door to frustration. more so when the flaw ought to have been solved years ago – a decade, even, when they were under the wing of an experienced knight. he’d be disappointed.

“ i know. ” they don’t mean to snap, but failure stings. “ i know, i know. too much focus on the right leaves the left vulnerable. . . ” and that would have been followed by a swift attack, ending with them flat on their back.

embarrassing.

Merc's Meme Collection

"I've never once heard those words come out of your mouth in that order," Inara snorts at the assassin at her side.

Her eyes sweep over him once before she looks back to the man across the tavern.

Merc's Meme Collection

Isn't that the truth?

As Inara relaxes beside the fire, she offers Zevran a little smile. She's pulling apart the bread in her hands - a plain hunk of bread is preferable to whatever it is Alistair is stirring over the fire. The other Warden is humming to himself, seeming horribly pleased - which likely means that whatever it is he's made, it's got a story behind it.

Those are always the worst ones. So it's best that she's good and full before it gets served, and the bread will do the trick. She offers Zevran a little piece.

" you sound surprised. " her eyes are trained on him, the way she looks at everyone. discerning. disdainful. distinguished. she's calm and collected- and what else could anyone expect from the first talon? one doesn't make it to caterina's age by running around like a headless chicken at the first sign of danger. or rushing in unprepared. she twists her hands around the head of her cane, back straight, eyes locked.

alessio is getting used to people just knowing the things he's done. he knows that he has all the subtlety of a brick thrown through a stained glass window and that stories of these so called 'exploits' have been spreading throughout at least northern thedas.

exploits is a good word for the absolute carnage he causes wherever he goes. " they're true, " he announces, with a little too much pride in his voice. he has no shame in what he's done, he fights antaam, he causes problems on purpose, he punches well above his weight. he has all the confidence and none of the humility. and he has no problem boasting about it.