#mostunwise

!!!! merrill/bela is my end-game ship but I’ve never thought about Merrill topping before oh gosh

the noise I just made?? yeS GOOD

lmao it takes a little while for merrill to get used to it at first

     HE DOES not remember the exact words out of the human’s      mouth, is only able to recall the sudden blinding rage. It comes      and goes quickly, but simmers afterwards, remaining absolute      in its place. Orden finds himself moving, two steps forwards,      grabbing Magnus’ shirt collar, and with a fierce tug, drags him      down to stone floors. The sound RESONATES about & around,      rings in his ears. And then he is pulling the man back up, hand      raising, fingers splayed out, and hits Magnus as hard as he can.

     IT COMES too fast. Too quickly. Being a child, sitting patiently      as his mother tells him not to think too much of it. It will hurt,      she says, but the pain will not past long as long as you do not      touch it. And then there is agonizing PAIN, blinding. Ink dipping      into skin, black contrasting a sickly pale palor. Time skips, and      he is standing statue-still as the old woman holds him by his      jaw, whips out her pliers, takes one of his molars. The blood      does not stop flowing for some time, but it is good to see Cadri      eat a full meal for once that night.

     AND HE is ripping hair from Markil’s scalp, pinning him to the      floor, digging a blade deep, deep, deeper into the fool’s spine.      NO ONE WILL DEFY ME NOW, he roars, a scream into the night      and leaves Markil’s head on his doorstep. The pride that comes      with the fear they wear on their faces when they look at him, when      his sisters look at him? It is overwhelming. A sudden tug, and he      is brought back the present. He is staring at Magnus, lungs heaving,      holding his jaw with one hand. His grip is IRON. Orden’s teeth are      bared, a beast among men, one shaking hand raising to point      at the brand drawn into his skin. The pain never goes away, he tells      his mother one night. I know, she replies.

     ‘ DO NOT say such a thing again, ’ he whispers, no, demands.      ‘ Else you will find yourself removed from the Inquisition, alone,      in the mountains with no meal, no fire, no home. Is that understood? ’

And he found himself on his knees and hands. Felt them crashing against the cold stone floor, unable to do a thing. Not because of his position or rank. But it was the fire in Orden's eyes that made him freeze.

He himself could not remember what he said, an off handed comment about the Carta, possibly about the markings some dwarfs wore. He didn't know what they meant. Educated in human history, elves and Qunari were mentioned, but what happened under the surface? That stayed there.

So he didn't understand the rage, but when the hand hit him and he can taste blood, he knew he deserved it. Saw it in the Inquisitor's eyes, not only burning with rage, but also darkening with pain. He averted his gaze, did not feel like he of all people had the right to see more than the hate, the strength the other embodied. 

And for a moment he blinks at the words, wondering if Orden was threatening him with the worst punishment he could imagine.. wondering what went through his head after Haven, when it was him without home, fire, food..                                                  alone in the snow.. injured..

And the instinctive fear changed, was still there, but most of it had turned into what everyone had just told him to have.       Respect. For the fire burning inside him, for the pain he seemed to carry around. 

He swallows his blood, and maybe also his pride:

          ❝Yes.❞ 

A short answer at first, closing his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening them again, making their eyes meet.

          ❝Yes. Yes I understood, my Inquisitor..❞ 

          ❝By Andraste's flaming titS.. Fuck!❞ 

He usually was no one to curse, especially not in such blasphemic ways. But an arrow to the the arm did hurt, enough to even make a devoted man curse his heart out.

And for what? To protect some ex-criminal dwarf.. It wasn't even his job to be on the front line like this.

Pride: a headcanon about something your character is a bit cocky about

It’s not so much as being cocky. It’s more about her being proud that this is the one things she’s great at. Merrill believes she’s a great gardener. It might not mean much to someone who’s good at archery or singing. But it’s the one thing she can do that won’tjudge her or ask more of her than water and sunshine.

*aggressive inquisitor voice* /ORLESIANS/