#meravaas

@meravaas​​  | Short form starters | Accepting

@meravaas

In an inquisitive manner and forgetting the Act of a humble Permission, doth Roland kneel in black soil and caked, thus, up to his elbows in the stone-tier’d garden of helpful Skyhold. A grasp of elfroot seeds, spindelweed seeds, and naught but four seeds of the elusive Crystal Grace sit in the center of his palm, and doth he peruse with a furrowed brow, the beginning silence of a hum ‘pon his lips, and three ceramic pots set a’fore him like the hushness of a Stage.

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DO YOU WANT A FLOWERCROWN

   Saarebas freezes in her tracks, eyes wide as she stares     at the stranger. Was ‘good morning’ not a customary     thing to say when passing by and accidentally making     eye contact? She opens her mouth, then closes it when     she realizes she isn’t sure at all how to reply.

         “Ah…all of them at once? I think…”

There’s a moment of silence as Caecilia realizes that she  had actually spoken aloud, a few loose papers slipping  out of her grasp as she tries to rethink her next statement.  There was no use hiding the fact that she’d meant to stay  quiet, or maybe just give a small nod or a quick greeting on  her way back to the library, instead of letting her tired thoughts take control. She grabbed the papers off of the ground  before they can get ruined by mud, weeks of work hanging in the balance.

The only drink Radonis had drunk was a glass of wine. And that was because the bottle had been opened right in front of his eyes and the taster had taken a sip of the rich Antivan red.

Why, had said his host, no more wine, your Imperial Majesty?

And Radonis had smiled, genial, and answered, « The night is young, Magister Urathus, but alas, I am not. »

The man had laughed, as he was expected to, and Radonis had hinted at the glass that Urathus was holding in his gloved hand. He added, « And neither are you. »

That, all in all, was the most pleasant conversation they’d ever had, which was rather revealing of Radonis’ opinions on his cunning host. But, of course, one could not so easily turn down an invitation to an important party, not when he knew for a fact how interesting the conversation might turn out to be. Or the entertainment --- if the Qunari mage that the Magister kept as a novelty and a pet could be considered entertainment to begin with. 

(Flavius had come to Radonis and had leaned slightly over him, speaking in a hushed voice --- the elf was his personal attendant, indeed, but he understood the whispers of slaves still, and they said that the Qunari was almost always paraded around when guests were around the household. That she was, perhaps, the key to the Magister’s secrets. Flavius might well have been correct.)

« Your little pet », said then Radonis to Urathus, observing the woman, his kajal-lined eyes a little narrowed, like a blade. « Does she understand instructions? »

« Barely », the Magister answered, sipping at his wine. « Enough to do what she’s told. »

The Rifts were mostly gone, thank the Maker, but that didn’t mean that the countryside had been cleared of their spawn or the destruction which had created the havoc in the first place. With the Inquisition increasingly busy and the people in need of faith, the King of Ferelden had begun his own trips into the dangerous territory.

He’d mostly zoned out, bored by the droning and mostly unaware of his surroundings when he’d come upon one such demon . Alistair had been more than thrilled to be able to handle the fight, but his for had been vanquished just as he was drawing his sword. The blond was only able to catch a quick glance at his would be savior, a woman who had just been clearly wielding the familiar hand of magic. He kept his hand steady on the hilt of his blade, not knowing for certain whether he was truly among friends or not.

Hella Sweet Munday Meme