#ghsting

@ghsting​: Happy belated Valentine’s!!!!!

          Snow in his boots is the worst of his problems. He repeats this to himself every hour or so as if it’ll ring true at some point: snow in his boots is the long and short of it, and anything else that happens to be wrong is occurring to some other, less fortunate Dorian. He trudges alone, for the most part, a distrusted Vint hedging outside the clumps of soldiers and civilians that’d naturally formed. Hiking is not his strong suit; he’s been slowly falling to the rear.

          The scent of smoke still strikes him with every odd shift in the wind. Haven’s destruction had been absolute, blown to little pieces by templars of all detestable things, the ramifications of which has kept his mind occupied through the frozen slog to... somewhere, eventually. The Herald has let them believe there’s a safe place at the end of all this, but Dorian isn’t quite the optimistic fool to think they’ll all survive that long. He feels them die, if they’re close enough -- the souls of the mortally wounded finding some warmer, kinder place, with any luck. Speaking of souls --

          The young man who’d appeared so abruptly at the gates, speaking in riddles. Had he mentioned his name? Had he lived? Despondency falls over Dorian anew, and reflexively, he casts a look around as if it’d produce him somehow.

         COLE looked as though he were barely nineteen. It was a thought that continued to float through his mind unbidden, every time his eyes cut to look at him on their journey to wherever the Inquisitor deemed necessary. But Cole wasn’t a boy, nor was he human. Was he human ? Saren didn’t understand the complexities of it all, but he knew one thing: magic always held the threat of demons. The mysterious boy hadn’t shown any aggression towards them, but his perplexing commentary and bizarre behavior sometimes made him question his intentions. 

hawke isn’t sure how he feels about this one.  there’s an endearing nature to him, of course, little .. strange .. blonde spirit boy that smiles at flowers and nugs and does other ... endearing things.  though the searching your soul part, hawke could do without. 

so when said boy sits opposite him, in the field in the grass, as honey sits and sharpens the blade of his mage he is mildly unsettled.   he could do without having his fortune told right now.       ❝ you don’t make any sound when you move, you know. ❞        he grumbles, amid the shink !!  of sharpener against blade.        ❝ perhaps you should wear a bell. ❞

@ghsting​

UNPROMPTED ASKS || always accepting ! 

Wulf stills.  He doesn’t know much about spirits, personally -- but he has come to know a little about Cole.  He wants to HELP.  ( He can’t help this. )  Rabbit, sensing his companions distress and rising hurt, whines beside him and nudges Wulf’s hand. 

“ They were.  Heavy, that is -- heavier than I ever thought irons could be ... and they stared at me like I’d been caught red handed !   Like I didn’t have an alibi ... like I wasn’t found in my wife’s bed that morning, like someone had seen me because someone said they did ... I was found guilty on a farce of a trial ... I have every right to be angry.  It was easier to be angry.  I’m still angry. “  

Only ladies? ��