#morgulais

            ❝— you’re TACKY & i HATE you. ❞

                           ‵ 'Hate’ is such a strong word. ′

        limbs sore, bones bruised, the trip into the fade at adamant had been... well, it certainly hadn’t been on his agenda, and days later he is still feeling the effects of the emotional and physical hardships he endured. the healers had insisted he stay in skyhold if only for another week until his wounds were healed, but he knows they can only treat the ones they can see.

        hawke does not actively seek anyone out in this time. no, he’s still keeping a low profile within the fortress. no one needs to know the champion of kirkwall is here besides those necessary. hiding his presence from so many would have been a difficult task many years ago, when he was younger and more vibrant and fully prepared to be the center of attention...

        now, he tires of it. he tires of having so many lives in his hands.

        a chilly breeze washes over the battlements. hawke does not react, but his face turns a soft red in response to the cold. with arms folded across his chest, he stares out across the landscape with a look of pure indifference. no one on the outside could truly tell how he felt, unless you were that odd boy that skulks about with his large hat hiding his face.

        the minutes drag by. there are footsteps against the stone. hawke sees her out of his peripheral. eyual, a driven and rigid woman who he’s grown to respect even if she does not seem all that fond of him. a few more conversations to possibly start some kind of acquaintanceship before he leaves skyhold might be possible, maybe...

[ Dragon Age Verse Starter Call ]

“ Look, there will not be peace in the Wilds until this shitstorm is resolved, so I could go back and keep fighting the demons that pour out of those things, treating only the symptoms, or I can stay here and help with the greater problem that caused all of this. The question is, will you have me? “

Send “✖” If you think that I’m playing my character properly.

He does not mean to interrupt, but he has ALREADY taken too many steps into the little library alcove to pretend his presence would not be noted. Instead of a silent retreat, Cullen’s lips quirk into a SMILE, and he takes quiet note of the book the Inquisitor is currently reading. He understands the allure of such peace and quiet ---- not many TRULY take advantage of their library. 

        ` YOU WORK... SO hard. there is fight in your head but hurt in your heart. a tumultuous twisting, turning, tearing ache. a tepid feeling tugging tight within your chest. `

        cole looks directly at her when he speaks, eyes cast in the shadow of his hat and mouth in a neutral line. the young man crouches down, rocks forward and back on his feet and exhales softly. he forgets to breathe sometimes. it makes his lungs burn and black spots form in his vision.