#lithaldoren

@vishante-ka-fuckyou // @crookedlydecaffeinatedprince

Lithaldoren had told he had to prepare for a journey into the outskirts of the city, but as usual, not once was he told what to expect.  The basics came into play - a sheer black and gold slave shirt; a sleeveless garment which would show off each scar and bruise given whilst also having triangle sections cut off at the waist. skin-tight black leather leggings were pulled up to the lower hip and golden chains jangled with each and every movement. It was all simple enough. until a almost chokingly tight collar was clipped around his neck - the human who attached it not caring that the lock caught the skin - blood now dripping down slowly.

Oh but that didn’t matter; it was removed soon enough, by the touch the slave knew best - a golden leash clipped shortly after the blood was taken away to be used as a source of energy and power from the mage many knew by the term ‘The Black Divine’. whilst the elf knew him as: Master, Ser, Lord, Magister, Owner, Amatus.

Offering soft eyes to the man cloaked in pure black and gold, the rogue bit his tongue as arms were yanked harshly behind his back, matching gold cuffs chained them together to assure no attempts on somebodies life would be done without the word of the magister. A click of a finger caused the small frame to groan whilst heat runes burnt into the skin it touched, clearly going to leave a blister in the hours to come. But that did not matter, as the leash was tugged forward setting them both in motion. 

Maker only knew how long they had been walking.. well.. he had been walking. The black divine able to use a horse to not put strain on his feet for the miles they had trekked - the scolding stone beneath the slaves feet battling with his training, almost causing a few groans with each step they took.. shadows became a blessing. Every once and awhile, the horses strides were larger than the previous, causing the leash to be yanked harshly, nipping and scratching at tanned skin leaving the elf breathless every once and awhile.

But eventually, say an hour of walking.. They came to the outskirts of Tevinter - lavish grass and an array of tree’s and mountains surrounded it, distinguishing the city greatly. But so it seemed this was all for show and in reality, Lithaldoren was there only for display and a shield if things went wrong. 

Aiding the magister down off his horse, the elf thought nothing of it as his cheek was slapped twice, not loud enough to create a brutal sound - only harsh enough to create a stinging sensation. Feet finding themselves in motion as his back officially began to crack and ache from being straight all this time.

@cydnaplexius

Lithaldoren had taken his time today, dragging himself towards the main hall of Skyhold. Yes, he was well aware he had to make it to Leliana is great haste, but frankly, he could not bring himself to care. The Spymaster could inquiry on him about it later.  The Tevinters feet ached, taking his time to take in his surroundings, deep breathes as he carried the piles of paper from one place to another. The grass which escaped passed his toes was in fact, rather delightful. But as soon as they had hit the cold harsh stone of the stairs up towards such a place, it sent shivers up his spine. Some days he cursed the fact he did not wear shoes, but no, he was not planning to change his apparel any time soon.

Stones dug into his unprotected feet, but all the elf did was sigh, groaning as Varric chuckled, clearly watching his every step. “May I help you, Dwarf? he addressed the smaller man finally making his way inside.  “No, elfy, unless you can come up with anything! may wanna get some shoes.” Scoffing Lithaldoren shook his head, rolling his eyes “You’re vastly annoying, do you know that?” “All in a days work.” And so banter was thrown back and form before the elf finally got to be blessed with the warmth of the room around him; heat being something he missed. The south was brutally cold compared to the north, something the Tanned elf would never get used to. Allowing the soft carpet to grace his feet, eventually he made his way up to Leliana.

//Starter for: @vishante-ka-fuckyou

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It was a pleasure to be invited to the Winter Palace, or so the silver haired elf thought. It finally gave him the chance to wear his uniform for situations based in Orlais, his armour consisting of something similar to what he would usual wear; his arms covered. The black he normally dressed in, replaced with White and the Golden decorations replaced with blue or red fabrics. A mask used to shield his face and his gauntlets replaced with what looked like a simple plain white glove, secretly a harsh leather, almost unbreakable. Anything to which would represent Tevinter, or his past, was replaced. No trace of snakes nor the origin of the city elf was given. It was in fact, a different, but nice change. Light, and odd... but nice.

Either way, he was not here to enjoy his new outfit, he was here on inquisition business; to make sure nothing bad would take place during their duties, Leliana’s orders, And sadly due to his previous run-ins with situations like the game... Lithaldoren was placed front and centre.

The elf despised being front and centre, not even able to speak to on-goers back in skyhold.. But if it was the place he was required to be, he would take his steps in pride, put on a fake smile behind the mask which showed such, let his eyes glisten in the chandelier light, his outfit flowing as he would walk confidentially around, allowing his onlookers to believe he was no mere servant, but a man of power. Not just a ‘knife-ear’. Not a slave nor servant.  An elf who understood this place, better than anybody within.

Keeping in mind however, he was there to assist the Inquisitor. Do nothing more than that, keep him safe and gather as much information as possible, hide the evidence which his party may have left around. Anything to keep them safe.

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//Oh. Oh definitely; he’s just a stubborn, scared hopeless romantic out there to cause as much havoc as possible xD.//

Lithaldoren’s usual scowl had doubled under the other elf’s belief, his eyes narrow and frame moving to be kept straight, to see as large as possible. Not that it made much of a difference.

“What?!-… what does such an inference even mean?!… “sinnamon roll?..” I-…. Well!”

He continued to stutter under the others elfs words, admittingly knowing the sin aspect was right. Never being a part of a romantic relationship, but constantly ridded with the thought of such.

Shaking his head, he scoffed, the tips of his ears turning red.