#oldmagics

PARTY BANTER ; ACCEPTING ; @oldmagics ;  ♡ — my muse and yours

“What led you to believe we will find an eluvian of all things at the Temple of Mythal? You seem quite confident for what I imagine is, at best, an educated guess.”

“so you knew the hero of ferelden?” it’s always a bit of an adventure asking morrigan a question, an equal chance she’ll either look PLEASED with the line or questioning or stare in such a way that makes sidri feel roughly as intelligent as the nearest DRUFFALO. sidri TUCKS a loose bit of hair behind an ear, looking UPWARDS carefully. 

                  making the trip to morrigan’s solitary, smaller camp offset from the others likely defeats the purpose of why she set it up in the first place. then again, dom can’t recall her explicitly expressing dislike for his presence. alistair’s, certainly, and while he pitied the man, he’s always admired a woman unafraid to speak her mind.

                  “if you’ve a need, i can fetch you some supplies. food, tinder... an extra bedroll?” his lip curls into a good-humored smirk, one eyebrow teasingly quirking upward in mock-suggestion. he’d made it obvious the witch had piqued his interest from the beginning, but he’s under no illusion that she’ll suffer arrogant fools, and thus, his ceaseless flirting remains minimal and easily dismissed. “i’d hate to make you brave the company of the rest of us any more than necessary.”

You must'nt gawk.

Nanna had repeated those words several times to herself since that first encounter in the Korcari Wilds, and each time she caught herself, the heat of embarrassment grasped her. It was rather uncourteous, for one. And, for another, Morrigan was an apostate. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Nanna could hear the disapproving tut of her mentors for having needed her help to begin with, much less for such easy consortment with one who had so thoroughly rejected their ways.

But the other woman carried herself with such assuredness and knowing, that she. Things that Nanna felt that she was distinctly lacking, and in truth, something she had never seen to such an open extent among the mages of the Circle Tower. At least from another mage. How she was meant to fully avoid it, Nanna could hardly have said, save for refusing to speak to Morrigan altogether.

@oldmagics said: “that's the price of freedom.”

        death? you wonder. is that truly a fair price to pay for what should be the right of any living person? you gaze around the curved, narrow hallway ahead of you with a growing sense of dread. with the doors shut tight behind you, the mages' tower feels more claustrophobic to you as each moment passes.

        it's not right, you think. none of this is right.

        and the first, petty thought you have in response to morrigan's callous disregard for the circle mages, the one you choose not to voice: it could have been you up there, if things were different. but you don't think that will do anything for her. so instead, you hop straight to the next thought, the one that truly plagues you, and has threatened to plague you for many long years: “it could have been me up there, if things were different.” 

        you don't think that will do anything for her either. you've only known her a few weeks, maybe a month. all she's seen of you is how you handled things at redcliffe—how you tried to engage with a demon and a child paid the price—and you don't think that's reason enough to care what becomes of you, really. but it is one thing, and that is a true and vulnerable feeling you have. a feeling that makes sense in this tower of horrors you've barely stepped foot inside.