#keepslore

throughout the forward camp a damp chill has settled with the dewy, morning mist. scouts emerge from their tents, rubbing at their eyes; the scent of day-old lit kindling wafts between the sounds of inquisition rations being prepared, water boiling for tea, as the camp residents give way to the beginnings of their day.

fenris had been the first up. and the first out of the inquisitor's tent by the time daylight crested. it was not entirely unlike him; the last to rest, the first to rise in the time spent on the road, it was something he'd grown used to quite quickly, before even his recruitment into the cause. but this time, it is marked with discretion. not for his own sake — no, fenris did not care for the whisperings, not when there were far greater things to concern himself with — but for the woman approaching him where he sits atop a downed log, lethendralis leveled in his lap and oiled rag in hand. because while he did not care himself, it was not a topic they'd had the chance to discuss: how dhavi might feel about it. whisperings. rumors, should the nature of the events of the night before circulate.

hard to discuss, really, when fenris was far too busy acquainting himself with how she might feel in another manner. the reciprocal want had been uninhibited, but foolhardy, given the looming proximity of . . . well, complications. it was easy to overlook, though, with the heated weight of that glittering gaze of hers, and the adrenaline that seared within him even after the fight calmed. 

the flat of his ear twitches with the clear of dhavihal's throat, and fenris lifts his head. privacy, she asks for, and conversation. over what, fenris only has to guess. there's a nervousness in the rhythmic tapping of her fingertips, and a refusal — inability? — to meet his eyes, and fenris knows not whether to be amused or bemused by it.

it could remain that: want. it was not the first time he'd been impulsive. he could let it be, if that was what she wanted. 

nor the first time he'd lied to himself on matters of he heart, either. 

His first instinct is to laugh it off and to make some kind of joke about how impossible it is to be lonely when you're surrounded by a castle full of servants and advisors and who knows who else. But the way Dhavi is looking at him tells him that she would see right through that lie, either from personal experience or because it's simply not true. It is possible to the be the loneliest person even when in the company of hundreds.

"That seems like an unfair observation," he murmurs without any real heat in the words, because they both know she's right.

He can't pretend she isn't for very long. Alistair takes a moment to approach the nearest window and look out at the activity happening around them, everybody below them busy with their own lives and priorities and everything else. But what does he have with his own life besides constantly giving it to others? What does a leader have with their people

She does understand, he realizes, and he turns back to her. "It's not something you can complain about either, is it? It sounds absolutely ridiculous when you say it out loud. Melodramatic, even. Poor lonely king in his full castle."

@keepslore / positivity time! accepting.

🌵 a canon rp blog i recommend

I’m realizing that I follow a lot of people who write oc’s lol but I simply CANNOT give enough praise to harrow on @fenanera. his take on solas is truly unique and captivating. he really manages to highlight the best and worst of solas in a way that feels very true to the character and his themes. he shows us that solas is angry, grieving, manipulative, and so so so full of love.

✨ a multimuse blog i recommend

speaking of following a lot of people who write their oc’s, I absolute adore @bloodlaurel. dotty’s oc’s are especially delightful to read about in their complexity and their backstories are amazing. one day I’ll get her to feel more confident writing canon characters, but she does an amazing job with cullen and merrill as well.

🍁 my favorite blog duo

"The Right of Annulment," she answers today, "is the right of a Grand Cleric to order for any Circle to be purged of mages entirely, should the Circle be considered irredeemable."

Dhavihal's brows pull together, and she feels her mouth begin to open before she has even thought of a response. Something in her chest twists and tightens, but she presses on. "Define—purged. Surely you don't mean you would perform the Rite of Tranquility on all of them?"

"No, Inquisitor. In this case, to purge a Circle would mean to condemn the mages within." She clears her throat before pressing on. "To death, I mean. It is considered an extreme option—"

"But it is an option!" Dhavihal's voice raises without meaning to, a nearby candle burning so hot and bright that the wick became ash before the wax had a chance to melt, extinguishing it. She realizes she has stood with her outburst, and the Commander, Seeker, Ambassador, and Spymaster stare at their Inquisitor. The conversation at hand, she realizes, is commonplace for them. A horror that exists in their world but is considered necessary, no matter how horrific. Something they can ignore, a fate they can blame on the mages should it arise.

She presses her lips together in a thin line, digs her fingernail into the pad of her thumb, and resists the urge to dismiss all of them at once, permanently. "As if I needed more reason to agree with the mages," she sighs, shaking her head. "I need to breathe. We will resume in an hour." They scramble to their feet as she leaves the room, not waiting for a response from them to do so.

As she walks, Dhavihal massages the point between her brows, feeling a headache beginning to form behind her eyes. Then her fingers thread through the roots of her curls, fluffing them before sliding back out. And again. Before long, she finds herself at the door to Nanna's chambers, rapping lightly. One question sticks in her mind, one she doesn't trust her advisors to answer without their own biases.

When Nanna answers the door, Dhavihal is clearly rattled, but she tries to force something like a polite smile nonetheless. "Nanna, I—" She swallows. Suddenly asking the woman about the terror that blanketed her in the Circle feels crass, and her smile falters. "Do you have a moment? I had a question about what life was like in the Circle, if that's alright."

The flowing cursive script of official letters dotted several of the soft and colorful pillows that Nanna had strewn across her bed, each with a wax seal popped and left to weigh the paper to the duvet. A variety of issues were piled between them—a quarrel between the local Banns, status updates on Warden activity, a few written in delicate enchanted cipher, all of which would require a response.

The droning script of Lord on the matter of revisiting trade agreements had Nanna blowing a stray coil out of her face to keep herself focused, flown free from the messy way she'd pulled back her hair. Even if her presence hadn't been required in this particular meeting between the Inquisitor and her Advisors, Nanna had plenty of work to occupy herself until she next saw the field.

A sudden rapping at her door broke through the monotonous message, and it was all Nanna could do to keep herself from flinging the paper aside in relief at the welcome distraction, but thought better of it before gathering the papers up a little more neatly. Admittedly, not many people came knocking for her, all things considered.

Not Solas, then.The intruding thought tugged the corners of her mouth into a toothy grin meant for none other than herself, the bubble of a laugh threatening the back of her throat that Nanna only just pushed down to maintain some air of dignity in case it was important.

But the one who awaited her, and in what state, shuttered the merry thought, and the surprise made Nanna's smile drop to cobbled stone between them.

“Dhavihal?”

And so it was—but the warmth of the Inquisition's leader had somewhat dimmed since today's meeting, and frayed nerves weighed a heavy cloak around her shoulders beneath the pull of a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Nanna was silent as Dhavihal made her hesitant request, the dark of her own violet eyes instinctively picking at every fraying detail she could see in the other woman's body language. While it was true that the woman seldom had time to relax, this clearly went further than that. That wasn't a typical question, after all. Something had happened.

SEND ME A CHARACTER TO PLAY | @keepslore

"He is one of June's finest artisans," There is a smile in Ghilan'nain's voice as she attends to her halla keeper. It is funny almost, attending to her attendant but Ghilan'nain had once been like her. Had once been so loyal and devoted and dutiful and so Dhavi is one of her favorites. It's why she keeps her with the halla when there are likely better fits for her skillset but those places might draw Andruil's golden eyes, "But if he is not to your liking, I will decline his request for your hand."

Were she married it would be less troublesome, Andruil would have no need to deem her a threat for Ghilan'nain's affection. A ridiculous notion, for no one fills her heart so much as Andruil but her love's heart is a capricious one. That Ghilan'nain can spare even a sliver of her own is something to be crushed before it can grow, so the goddess must always be careful with her favor.

VERY SPECIFIC MUNDAY ASKS // accepting! @wakesleft

🎀 Say something nice about your character.

I have quite a few, but let's pick Asharen and Orla since those are the two we've written together so far:

Asharen is truly a joy of a person and I strive to have her strength of character and ability to grow and adapt as she does. I would have lost my shit and get thrown in jail more times than I could count in her situation. It takes strength to remain steadfast in your beliefs, and bravery to let go of what no longer works for you when it used to work so well before

Orla is a survivor, rough edges and all there is a single throughline that guides them: they want to be a better person. At whatever the cost to themself, they will make sure that they are never controlled to do terrible things for another. These hands will continue doing terrible things - they are good at that - but they will be done for the right reasons. It's not always a good thing, but that sort of drive is impressive.

🪷 Whose writing do you admire?

Oh there are so many and for so many different reasons. I'll restrict myself to four for now because otherwise I will be here all day. I still stand by the sentiment that @warwine 's writing might be the best that I've ever read. @k1tch3n is much of the same, though you could say that ryan and charlie are both in a single package. @extravagantfool tepid is tepid, you all know them. Asha is wonderful but the breath of talent and in the characters written is insane. And outside of the RP since @bodysnatch3r is no longer around in the rpc, each time I see Matty's writing I feel inspired to write myself - and that is worth gold!

💕 Say something nice about your own writing. this was also asked by @keepslore and @archaeval

I'll write three then!

I enjoy writing themes and being able to stick with them. It truly sparks a lot of joy to be able to see themes that I set up in earlier timelines come to fruition in rp. Of course, these often take years (if you ask @psychescape how long we took to get Krem and Maxima to where they are in Veilguard you will see that it's been almost a decade, and no I don't want to hear a single thing about it actually)

I enjoy how quickly I'm able to draft and leave in a somewhat complete state a draft or drabble. I have very little free time, so being able to focus and do things is vital in order to keep rp as a hobby. To be able to say that I enjoy and am proud of 90% of what I write is something to be proud of, especially since that wasn't always the case and the fact that English is my second language.