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🌲
🌲 to climb a tree with my muse | not accepting
Duncan grunted, arms trembling as he did his best to lift the elf higher. “Can you reach it yet? Surely you can climb up now!” Maker, his old age was showing--he could feel himself getting red in the face from the effort of lifting the other, though if asked about it later he’d chalk it up to all of the armor.
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@lostlavellan This was home. Sure, Skyhold was nice, the views were beautiful but Emerald Graves was true home. The smell of the forest, the feel of the dewy grass between her toes was always the most welcoming. And any time she came to her birthplace she adorned her ancestor's armor, it had been passed down through generations and was one of the rare things that had survived back when elves were... elves. She was only here to check on the camps, no real reason than to enjoy the hills and trees. It was easier to run here, to climb up trees like a panther or jump from them like a squirrel. Much easier to hide and maneuver, unlike Val Royeaux. But for now, this sun-lit patch of grass she had currently been laying in had her full attention.
@lostlavellan continued from here “Krem…” Melana’s voice was lower in tone than usual as she tried to keep herself awake. “I can walk. I can totally walk.” Still, she didn’t make any motion to have Krem actually put her down, her eyes drifting shut for a few seconds before she forced them back open. “I’m the Inquisitor.” And as the Inquisitor she could very well walk, regardless of how tired she was. “I’m awake…” Maybe she’d pushed herself a little too hard in training to hit the tavern afterwards because every time she opened her mouth to tell Krem to put her down, she dozed off slightly instead.
Krem chuckled softly at the half asleep protests Melana stubbornly kept up with. He’d spied her dozing in her cups in the tavern despite the noise of the place and taken it upon himself to make sure she actually made it back to her own room before she completely passed out at the table. It had been easy enough to lift her, she was a slight thing and he was used to lifting and carrying far heavier things.
“Of course you are, Your Worship,” he agreed amicably enough to her sleepy mumbling. “But just this once, let someone else take care of you.” They were in the Keep proper now, and Krem just had to remember his way through the halls to get to her room.
HIS BROWS HOIST, hidden behind the shaggy, thick lengths of his hair. instead of letting his poison temper get the best of him, hawke keeps QUIET, lets his tongue TUCK against the back of his bared grimace.
but his chin snaps up to a slant, & it when it finally comes out, it comes out BARKING : ❛ haven’t I answered ENOUGH of your questions ? ❜
@lostlavellan ( ♥‘d )
@lostlavellan Liked for a starter
It was late, far later than most liked to train, but Fenris found a certain peace on the training grounds at night. He liked the solitude amongst the constant bustle of the Inquisition. His ears twitched at the sound of footsteps approaching and he paused in the middle of a drill. For the briefest instants, his marks flared to life, illuminating him and his immediate area with Lyrium's distinctive blue glow. They died back down once he identified who was approaching him.
"Inquisitor." His voice was as welcoming as he got, head tilting slightly as he replaced his massive sword on his back.
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[ ♡ ]
For every “♡” I get I’ll give tip on how to win my muse’s heart.
Be complex. Have layers, have issues, have doubts, have flaws, have a history, have defense mechanisms and wishes and dreams. Tell lies for good reasons, or bad ones. Stay guarded, or don't, but... The Iron Bull is part of the Qunari secret police. He likes a good mystery. He likes figuring things out, and taking them all apart with his hands. And he wants to know you're more than just a pretty face, or that's all he'll treat you as.
lostlavellan started following you
"Have we set up your party yet?"
lostlavellan:
Da’len. How long has it been since anyone called him that and not mean it as patronising? From the Inquisitor, at least, it wasn’t condescending.
He mustered a smile, using his staff to haul himself to his feet and looking away from the destruction around them. So many enemies, and these just foolish bandits, not willing to listen to reason.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly, spotting the blood on her lip and concerned about her cough.
She places a hand at the small of his back for support. "I'll be fine. If I thought it was life-threatening, you'd know. Not much gets to me these days." Mihtriel chuckles. The hand pulls back and she begins to walk forward, stepping over the body of a bandit. Pausing, the elf turns around. "Are you alright is the better question." Her eyebrows knit in concern, leaning. "You're not injured, are you?"
