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@invindictae - starter call
“My dear Anders, how can you call yourself Fereldan and not love dogs?” Her tone is teasing, but El always takes the matters of Ferelden and dogs very seriously. Or perhaps she’s just trying to get the dour healer to smile.
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@invindictae liked for a starter
Saarebas cannot be sure how far South she is, nor can she determined exactly where it is she’s found herself. Far enough South that few people spoke Rivaini, which made things challenging to say the least. The small inn she found is off the beaten path and quiet. She feels eyes on her as she approaches the bar, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“Bread...and, cheese. Please.”
The words are awkward, clunky, but he understands. Her eyes are downcast as she makes her way towards a table, focused almost entirely on the ground when she walks straight into someone else. The plate drops to the floor and she jumps, muttering a curse in Rivaini.
“Sorry, sorry.”
@invindictae || Continued x
“I’d enjoy it more if I wasn’t always bloody or bruised,” Neil quipped. In truth, he hadn’t wanted to come initially. Yet, Aveline didn’t by his “just a scratch” routine and practically dragged him to the Clinic. The gash on his arm was from an arrow that had flown too close for comfort. It stung some and stained his favorite shirt. Other than that, Hawke felt fine. It was probably a wound he could have cared for on his own. Yet, here he was, standing in front of Anders.
@invindictae // I LIVE ON PAIN
“WHY ARE YOU looking at me like that?” She recognized the face, but couldn’t understand the distress plastered on his features. She stood stoic before him, hands resting at her sides idly.
“Are you in need of aid? I can assist if you are troubled by something.”
@invindictae [X]
“I’m fairly certain I still look better than the other guy,” Hawke managed, holding a clean-ish rag to the gash in his flank. “I mean, he’s dead, but he was relatively good-looking, so it’s not as clear-cut as it might sound.”
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starters || @invindictae
“If you’re going to run from the Wardens, you might want to consider hiding yourself better.” He looked around the clinic and the various people gathered there before turning his gaze back to Anders. “Or at least going by a different name.”
@invindictae like x for a starter
“You’re the mage,” Alistair called in surprise, stopped in front of a gentleman with only barely familiar hair and even less familiar eyes. But he reeled even as the words fell from his lips, shame inflaming his cheeks and nose scrunching with his indiscretion. “The one who used to be a Grey Warden, I mean. Er, one of them,” he corrected quickly, hopefully before he could scare off the other man. Alistair’s mouth often tended to run a few sentences ahead of his brain, especially on matters that could give offense.
Still, he took an insistent step forward. “I’d heard rumors that you might have joined the Inquisition. Even after leaving the Wardens, it seems like we can’t seem to avoid trouble. We met, once. In Amaranthine.”
starter | @invindictae
“I’ve heard of you--Anders, isn’t it? The one to bring the Southern Chantry to it’s knees and start a revolution heard ‘round the world.” Akil can’t help the way he eyes the other mage, almost as if memorizing every line and curve of his features. “Have you ever thought of sitting for a portrait?”
