FORGIVING WHO YOU ARE FOR WHAT YOU STAND TO GAIN. JUST KNOW THAT IF YOU HIDE, IT DOESN'T GO AWAY.

#KINLOCHS : HERO OF FERELDEN. COMMANDER OF THE GREY.

@kinlochs asked:

The battlefield is dying down with the decisive victory the Inquisition has garnered over the enemy Templars in the area. Of course, through all this, the party has scattered—separated by combat and struggle. Cassian searches for Nimue through the thick wood, the only noise his breathing and the crack of branches. He hears an odd sound nearby. Grunting, maybe? Some sickening squelching sound alongside. He breaks through the treeline and stumbles upon Nimue spattered in blood, grappling and stabbing the last Templar with vigor. "Inquisitor," Cassian calls across the clearing. Nimue continues digging into the now-still Templar, the blood surely dripping from her hands at this point. "Inquisitor." He shouts louder, crossing quickly now that he realizes something is amiss. The mage attempts to intervene with Nimue's carnage but is only pushed and shoved away. He only manages to grab her attention when he practically yanks her against him in a gamble, their lips colliding in a tense and furious kiss. Cassian keeps his grip in her hair until he no longer feels resistance and slowly allows them to part, breathing hard. "Nimue?" He asks hesitantly.

She'd lost herself somewhere. Somewhen. Daggers glinted as she flourished them. She was far enough away from anyone she could consider friend or ally. Again, again, again. The shining blades had long ago turned red with gore. As had much of her. Blood spray coated the little elf from gouged arteries. There was no thought. No perception beyond this desire for more blood. More death.

Inquisitor. The title meant nothing. It was someone else. It was something else. It was meant to apply to someone good. His calls of the title gained no reaction. Her blade began to thunk against solid bone, carving into it. The victim was long dead, but she wanted him deader. She felt the attempts to stop her. At first her thoughts were solely on returning to the body, making more holes, but something in her registered that she was being hindered--- so her blades turned to the source.

Or, they would have. She was, in all ways, far smaller than the Warden-Commander. A foot shorter, a thinner form, and even in her blood-rage, he was stronger. She'd squirm against him, try to unpin herself, until she was distracted. The last thing she could have expected was a kiss in this state. It was enough to throw her. Rough and harsh. Her mind stalled, the urges quieting as her surprise overwhelmed them. Nimue relaxed, at least partially. The blades clattered on the ground, an intentional show of disarming before they'd even parted.

Her name... now that meant something. That wasn't some title forced on her by strangers. It was her. Brows knit as her body quivered a bit, shaky from the strong feelings clearing so suddenly. When she spoke, it was soft.

❝ i do not want to be here any more than you do, ❞ said @kinlochs. ↬ dragon age: the veilguard prompts pt 1

the saying to never meet your hero, well——in this case, ferelden's hero, was starting to ring a little TRUE, at least that's what evie was gathering so far from the few short minutes she's known him. however the young inquisitor doesn't say anything, at least not immediately. instead she sucks her teeth and reigns in whatever words first came to mind.

demons poured from the sky and all of southern thedas had been plunged into madness and confusion. no doubt the conflict had effected the warden-commander and his men in grey. or maybe he was just offended at the prospect of working alongside a TEENAGER.

either way, the best evie could do in these circumstances was offer GRACE where none were offered in return.

Ah. The traitorous Wardens ever fragile to deception...! Peering up, their gait, their gravity, reels his mind.

THERE'S A MISCHIEVOUS SMIRK ON the boy's face and a mirthful glint in deep blues. what is he up to now. . . ‴ so, i think it would be REALLY cool if you told me about the super secret joining ritual. ‴

SMASH OR PASS / ACCEPTING !

@kinlochs asked:

it is not the strength of the body, but the strength of the spirit.

HER INITIAL INSTICT HAD BEEN ABOUT THE SAME AS MORRIGAN'S. why should they help a bunch of helpless shemlens? whatever was going on at the castle seemed like their problem. not something that their little gang needed to help with. but, the more faces they saw, the more stories they heard, it started to tug at her heart. especially seeing the children. hearing the fear in their voices; the way they clung to their parents.