#notbornheroes

@not-born-heroes​ liked for an Anduin starter!

He’d been searching. Looking for some kind of internal peace. To grasp something of what he’d been only a handful of years ago. Returning to Pandaria had made sense, despite that he’d had to be careful none who knew his face saw him. Perhaps someone had... or perhaps the dragon had simply had a feeling. Either way, it almost made sense for Wrathion to be the one to find him there. After all, it was where they’d first met.

     Ubbe had backed off at her insistence, and she had had two men drag him back to town. The man, the sword, everything about him, had drawn her eye and she was interested to know more about this strange warrior. The fact that she was told he was a Christian, mattered not to Lagertha, she had dealt with them on more than one occasion.

     Still dressed in her armor, covered head to toe in blood and gore from others, she had sat down on the side of the bed he had been placed on, had watched him as he was seemingly still unconscious, had studied his face. He was a handsome man, for a Christian.

@not-born-heroes​ asked:

“you are remarkably well-behaved tonight, what have you been up to?” - Rowan Hawke for Marie

           too busy putting yet another darkspawn down, lily hadn’t seen the sneaky genlock appearing out of nowhere with a crossbow pointed at her. she wouldn’t have been fast enough to dodge it --- subsconsciously she braced for the pain that never came. nathaniel howe, of all people, shielded her with his own body and took the arrow right on his shoulder. 

          lily didn’t let shock deter her. she only had a few seconds until he reloaded and shot someone else. the warden-commander took advantage of her momentum and lunged at her opponent, shoving both daggers into his chest. she didn’t even wait until the creature was on the ground before she rushed to nathaniel to check up on him.

          it felt weird to be concerned when she spent so much time avoiding even making eye contact with him, afraid she would hate him simply for who his father was. she still felt it --- everytime he was around. hatred, boiling inside of her, making noise inside her head until she couldn’t think coherently.  ❝ that was monumentally stupid, nathaniel. ❞ the arrow hadn’t broken inside of his shoulder, apparently. that was good. 

          ❝ i have to take that out. anders, can you make something to help with the healing? ❞ the mage nodded while sigrun dragged the corpses nearby to another place so they’d have more space.

the guilty sentence starters. / accepting!

@not-born-heroes​ asked: “am  i  interrupting  something?” - Fenris for Uther

@not-born-heroes​ inquired:  [ TOUCH ] for sender to trace one of receiver’s scars - Tanassan Mahariel & Zevran

     Most of them had already retreated into their tents, and despite the fact that Zevran had already attempted sleep as well, he had ended up outside at the fire after a little while. Sleep didn’t come easy to the former Crow and tonight was no different than any other night. What was different, was the fact that he suddenly had company.

     He glanced to the side where the Warden had sat down, almost touching elbows with him. “I see sleep did not come to you either?” He asked, nudging the other’s elbow with his own. “I think there shall be many more nights without sleep.” Usually, when insomnia hit, he was the only one at the fire, so he was not quite sure if Tanasssan suffered the same fate. He could only imagine he did. He had heard the stories of the nightmares the two Wardens suffered from.

     Instead of an answer to his statement though, he felt the other man’s fingers on his arm and he glanced down to see what was going on. One of his scars was being traced with a gentle finger and he furrowed his brow. “What are you doing?” His first instinct was to draw his arm away. He didn’t like to talk about his scars. But before he actually did, he realized that Tanassan probably couldn’t see them. The elf cleared his throat and moved his arm closer to the Warden. “It was a poisoned blade that did that,” he said softly, not looking the other in the eyes. “I thought I would die. Fortunately for you, I did not, or you would not have been able to travel in my presence.” An attempt to make light of a terrifying memory. He could only hope the other couldn’t hear it in his voice.

@not-born-heroes​

     The moment the snow had come down the mountains, Maxwell had been sure that it had been the end of his career as The Herald of Andraste. He was never going to see his parents again, his siblings, any of the new friends he had made after starting the Inquisition. Yet, he had woken up nonetheless. He had woken up cold, in pain, barely able to move due to his stiff muscles, but he had woken up. That’s more than could be said of some of the people who had lived in Haven before the attack. And he was grateful for it.

     Now, they had been walking for a couple of days, and Solas kept telling them they were almost there. Yet, they had set up camp again and were going to spend the night out in the cold yet again. Luckily, everyone pitched in and their little encampment was done in no time at all. It gave him some time to get to know the latest addition to the Inquisition.

     Still a little wobbly on his feet from the beating they had taken at Haven, he shuffled over to where Dorian was sitting. The mage intrigued him. He acted like any place he was, he owned, and people just seemed to accept it. The man was extremely cocky and incredibly charming and, not knowing that much about him, Maxwell gingerly lowered himself onto the cot next to Dorian.