#perditus

If someone ever told her a couple of months ago that she'd be bringing hot mead to a templar in the middle of the night, she'd tell them to have her head because she'd have been turned into a servant, a slave.

If someone ever told her a couple of months ago that she'd be bringing hot mead to a templar in the middle of the night because she honestly cared about the guy having been working way too much, she'd tell them to have her head because she'd lost her entire mind beyond any hope.

And yet here she was. Sure, technically former templar, but still the one who'd treated her fairly all along, who'd first found her in that awful snow in Haven, who'd rallied a crowd to cheer at her being appointed their Inquisitor. It was all so new and felt so weird for her, but Samahla appreciated that, humans as they were, these people treated her well and felt like bastions of resolve and safety at her side so far.

"You need to sleep, commander." Nonchallantly, she placed the warm tankard in front of Cullen on his desk without a previous word, and perhaps he didn't know her enough to have given her such liberties - but it was just the way she was. And maybe having faced a would-be god together and living to tell the tale was enough to give people some measure of intimacy for such liberties.

THE PAST FEW WEEKS HAD BEEN HARROWING, TO SAY THE VERY LEAST. haelia had left her gilded cage. she'd been thrust into the wardens, had lost almost her entire family. she wanted to believe that fergus was still out there; but even that didn't seem likely. and now? she and alistair were all that remained of the grey wardens. they'd been labeled traitors and given a nearly impossible task. one which she wasn't entirely sure they were even capable of accomplishing. but it wasn't as if they had any other choice. ferelden was counting on them. they had to try. ❝ i guess we are, ❞ she agreed, her lips curving into a small frown. though she tried quickly to lighten the mood. they wouldn't get anywhere if she kept wallowing. ❝ at least we have each other. i can't imagine doing this alone. or without your charming wit. ❞ her tone was teasing as she gave him a small smile.

send 🌼 and i'll recommend a blog with beautiful writing

@perditus

the way i am SUCH a flowers fan should be studied. all of their muses have their own unique voice and style, like you can tell who they're writing from the way a thread reads, the vocabulary, the way they speak and what they notice/point out/focus on in a scene. also love it when they yap in a thread cause you just know they've got some good shit to say

@teethearted

absolutely love a good soft-seeming muse that's actually very much Not That asdkjhas Bunny is beautiful and sharp and i love to see it. shelle's writing is just so evocative and interesting, the kind that really paints a picture when you read it

@ischaron

hi i'm squeezing rian in my arms and twirling him around because the way i absolutely adore this cowboy reaper man !!! fork's writing is genuinely such a thematic homerun. every reply i read inevitably there's a line that just makes me go OHMYGOD YOU JUST DID THAT!! like just grabs me by the throat in the best way

@torntruth

there's such a rhythmic flow to aphelion's threads. like they're so good at the composition in writing, word choice and sentence length, structure, etc. coming together to make something that's almost musical. her formatting really helps to push it that little extra bit too

@freakarus

listen if i'm not yelling bestie's praises every 5 seconds i WILL explode so. here we are

soapy is an absolute legend in my head. she has such an amazing grasp on eddie and her writing is incredible. it truly pulls my into the world that she's describing, sits me right down in the middle of the scene and holds my head to make sure i don't miss a thing

@shepardsdaughter asked: 🏆💻🎀😍

🐝  *  ―  𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑻-𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑨𝑾𝑬𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺.

💻 ― excellent writing

@contritioned beating up the air when I say Metric's writing is top tier. I can hear Frank in their writing and just OUGh chef's kiss. Eating their writing all day every day.

🎀 ― all-around kind person

@theflexorcist I love them so much. They are super sweet and I just love talking to them about our babies and just random things for them in their own little universe ;; They are SUPER creative too omg but also #Stebby 4 lyfe

😍 ― admiring from afar

@milfwriter HELLO? Every time I see them on dash, I just have to stop, read, admire, and then roll away giggling because AHHH I love them... We are writing together but I still gotta admire from afar I swear

🏆 ― 10/10 blog, would recommend

@perditus listen like, if you want an awesome multi-muse with Dragon Age and KPDH muses? I love Flowers so much, I've known them since I was over on my other muse and OUGH I love they. Write with them or else 🔫

In little over twenty years, he’d seen a great number of Thedas’ landscapes. Such is the life of the Dalish – to move from place to place, never with a permanent bed to call your own, but at home with the people who matter more than anything to you. It was a life that bred adaptability, safe in the knowledge that he’d been anchored to a great deal of terrains, but never once tethered. 

From the dark outskirts of the Tirashan forest to some of the most beautiful, flowering plains in the south, or the vibrant vineyards of Antiva, the continent can be as beautiful as it is tumultuous. And in some way, he’d liked them all, every place he’d been to had its charms. 

The area surrounding Haven is just as beautiful as any he’d seen before – snow-capped mountains that glisten gold with each dawn, sturdy evergreens and the familiar scent of pine, the crisp sort of air you only get at high altitudes. But it’s unfamiliar in its permanence. Sure, he’d seen cities in passing, but he’d never spent much time in any one of them. 

And Haven isn’t a city. Really, its size is comparable to a clan of his own people. But the experience of sleeping in a permanent building is new (even if several people had asked if such accommodations were sufficient), and the bed is far bigger than he needs, and fairly comfortable. And he’s fond of the campfire – the one where Varric’s always hanging around – because it’s a nice sort of communal thing he thought humans didn’t bother having in their settlements. And tea… he’d grown very fond of a specific blend of tea Josephine had found for him. 

Although that wasn’t really Haven, was it? Isn’t it Rivaini? 

But in many ways, Haven is trying. There’s an intangible quality to it that disagrees with him… perhaps it's just the way he’s being looked at by everyone here, or the Chantry’s overwhelming presence. It isn’t quite a new home. 

Either way, he’s spent an awfully long time sipping his tea, if only to hold off from answering Cullen’s question. Does he like it? 

“Honestly? I’m not sure. Obviously, the mountains are beautiful, and I’m glad we’re here and not in the middle of some city where I’ll never find my way to the war room on time… more than usual–”

It’s true, he is late to the war table a lot. And frankly, he’d love to be able to listen to the conversations that must happen in there without him. 

“I’m just not used to it yet. That’s all,” he says, and it’s an answer enough. But something begs him to carry on, so he raises his mug, smiles a little more and speaks with a cheerful sort of sarcasm. Or is it optimism? The line between the two is thin in his voice, to the point where they’re indistinguishable.  

“I’m sure I’ll be feel at home in no time,”

Right now, he’s going to glaze over all the reasons why. He’s not sure he knows the commander well enough yet, and he’s not certain that he’ll understand the depth of the cultural divide. 

Although, that line of thought does inspire some curiosity. 

“But what about you, Cullen? You’re Ferelden, aren’t you?”

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑹𝑶𝑶𝑴 𝑺𝑼𝑭𝑭𝑶𝑪𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮. Lark was sitting alone at the long table in the Dellamorte estate. She was staring downward as she began to process the information that was currently a whirlwind in her mind. 

Marriage. That is what they proposed. Not they--Caterina. Caterina wanted to save her from the jaws of Armando who made himself indispensable. He wouldn't face consequences for past actions but with this proposal, Lark would be free of him.  All because Lucanis sacrificed his freedom and happiness to protect her and no one would be foolish to mess with the wife of the first talon. 

This was him giving her protection, and she didn't know how to feel. Now that they were sitting alone, Lark felt the weight of the dread around her shoulders like a wet shroud. 

She finally looked up at Lucanis. 

❝ 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬? ❞ She asked.

 ❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞--𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞… ❞ The dread was suffocating and she felt her nerves beginning to fray. She sucked in a breath in an attempt to calm her hammering heart. 

@perditus