@isrya: ❝ remind me again how you convinced me playing a game of wicked grace would be good for me. ❞ adam drawls with a smirk, a brow lazily raised in question. sitting slouched in a chair by his bedside in the infirmary, he shuffles the worn cards for them both before they start. ❝ not that i’ll go easy on you. just because you’re recovering and therefore lighthouse bound doesn’t mean you’re senile. ❞
“ who said this was for you? gotta keep my wits about me in here — what better way to do that than having you talk my ear off? ” hard to write a book when he’s been benched in the prologue, isra’s more than his eyes and ears now. might as well be his pen, too. the mage doesn’t strike him as a religious sort, even in the most dire of circumstances, but he’d be smart to pray that varric doesn’t get his hands on the angel of death card first. there's no telling when the sun sets — if it sets, in this damned fade — but that card'll be cozy in his hand 'til the birds sing. “ yeah, yeah. you're lucky you're in here for wicked grace and not to sponge me. ”
