#sheharrowed

      ❛ cirilla... she’s almost as a DAUGHTER to me, even if not by blood. ❜ eyes lifted to land on tamara’s, am honest confession. ❛ she’s being hunted as we speak, perhaps even in danger... i could use your help. ❜ silence fell. ❛ please, tamara. ❜

   She never stops looking for her, not for a moment; never stops trying; from realm to realm, she travels, year after year after year-- she, no longer maiden-- only mother-- only, crone-- gathers the warmth of the night in the curve of her palm, stretches her arms toward the sky, over rivers of blood and the dark woods, singing with all her skin and bone and sacred body-- "Please keep her safe," whispers in Elven, "bring her back home to me--". and Luned. Cáemmm aep te modron... , howls it into the sky the night she slips through a portal to the other world-- feeling the frost upon her mouth; upon her shoulder. From Kaerh Mohern to Skellige, through silver plains and mists and woods, she passes, prowling the lands and realms beyond, summoning olden gods and spirits with spells and ancient magics; she slips through the chill, dark passage between the worlds-- seeking that, which she might never get back-- grows desperate with it-- obsessed, her body wrought in agony, in wrath. To the Blue Mountains she travels, and dwells with the hags on the edge of the marshes, so that she might learn from them to look into the sacred rivers, see where she might have vanished -- make your heart true, they tell her-- and light will come upon you, and you shall see-- you will see; but she never does.

       She returns empty handed and dripping rage-- locks herself away into a dark room; she tries to summon creatures from alternate dimensions or worlds across time and space, meaning to bargain with them, bind them blood and bone to her soul and have them leap across the span of time and space to bring her Ciri back--- casts spells upon herself so that she might prowl the lands that keep Cirilla, in her sleep-- she walks from dream to dream and realm to realm, but never finds her, her, more shadow than girl, always just out of her reach; she scalds her fair skin black and silver, her wrists and arms now covered in scars from rites gone wrong and summoning darklings that she has not yet learned to master-- that neither hag nor witch nor sorceress can she alone command.

       Go to Toussaint, Yennefer of Vengerberg. Look for the countess. Tamara., Elna of Rosberg tells her one moonless night besides the fire, not a week after the Belleteyn; Yennefer stares blindly ahead, at the stars rising cold above the hills, listens to the witch she's met not yet two moons ago in the forests, gathering herbs. The world seems narrowed to the tug of the knife in her hand, the faint scraping noise it makes as it slices through the flesh of her palm. For her, she thinks, she'd go to the end of the world and beyond.

[  character questions  |  still accepting  ]

@sheharrowed​ said: 1) Your character discovers that someone they care about is actually a criminal hiding from the law. How would they react? for Nalindri

          Nalindri has a complicated relationship with the law in general. She is the type of person who only minds the law so long as it doesn’t get in her way. She has no true respect for the laws of Thedas nor those who made them as it’s quite obvious that many of those laws exist solely to suppress certain groups in Thedas, her own people being one of the main targets for these mandates. But she’s not stupid enough to go around breaking laws just for the hell of it. Elves could be killed for even the slightest of imagined offenses, so why tempt fate by giving the humans a more concrete reason to send her to the gallows? She tiptoes within the bounds of the law for the sake of her own survival. But that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t break the law at all. She does it often, but only when she feels like she needs to and not for the thrill of it or to spite the rulers of the land. Again, survival is the key for everything when it comes to Nalindri. Survival is the reason she keeps to the law, and it is also the reason she breaks it when she believes it is necessary.

          Nalindri’s relationship with the law changes more decisively depending on what happens after Origins. In verses where she becomes an outlaw, there’s obviously no issue with protecting a criminal friend as she herself constantly breaks the law. It’s more complicated in verses where she becomes Chancellor of Ferelden, though, because then she is part of the system and has to work more tightly within the constraints of legality or else she might damage whatever progress she’s made for her people. Even then, if it’s someone she actually has a bond with and not some random acquaintance, I don’t think she’d hesitate to help them. She couldn’t be seen with them obviously, but depending on her relationship with them, there are various lengths she might go to to help them. She very much puts her family and close friends above everything else, so if their relationship is important enough to her, she may even be willing to risk her career for them.

          With all of that being said, the most important deciding factor for her would be the crime itself. Petty theft? Trespassing? Easy to overlook. But something like murder? Most likely a deal-breaker unless you can truly justify it to her (with the obvious caveat of this being a fantasy setting and killing being rather commonplace for many of the adventuring types she associates with). She might not give a shit about the law, but she’s not without morality.

and skyhold was something grand.  credit given where due,  it did not elude the commander that their now-inquisitor  ( and solas; the mage’s stride kept at the fore )  had led them to an impregnable fortress.  even now,  when he stands whist  /  observant in the courtyard midst soldiers’ skirmishes,  he thinks briefly on how well-fortified they are.  how not only the castle behind,  but the walls surrounding seem to stretch towards a pale sky.  stolid,  like even he.  once-templar turns on the damp,  cold grass underfoot and towards the ever-open gate.  its approach swarm with numbers,  daily he thought them growing.  merchants,  mages,  simple people climbing the mountains in pilgrimage  ━   every one of them another stone upon his shoulders.  and every one of them he is aware,  in some respect,  of their arrival.  his fellow advisors undoubtedly knew more than he can ever want to,  so hence the burden of names and titles is theirs.  but he does look upon the people coming into the sanctuary that is skyhold,  and he does take into his hands a receipt of attendance given to by one of his many soldiers.   tepid,  calm,  he looks a bulwark standing; perhaps the left hand upon his blade’s pommel paints him a challenge while he all but glances over the account of the day’s comings.  intentional or no.

it is only by chance that he looks up.

when at first he sees a mass of faces,  an old instinct bubbles up inside his chest.  that he must watch,  that he must be ever-vigilant  ━  he  CANNOT  look away.  but like the years have passed him,  he too lets this pass.  there is a comfort in knowing there are those he can rely upon to help protect these people,  and for that moment he casts his hard gaze elsewhere.  it is,  of course,  in that fraction of a second that he catches a nightmare.  black mirror,  face familiar,  his head is hurting and he grimaces to himself only.  what he recalls is not fond,  and when he looks again he is staring.  i know you,  his thoughts whisper,  but how do i know you?  faces of mages and failed harrowings,  not the start of a rebellion but a deeper memory.  he was much younger when last he saw that face.  cullen,  stricken,  does nothing but wonder could she be the circle mage from many long years ago?  guilt festers there instead of nightmarish horror,  but his face wrinkles like he’s angry.  he’s not,  cullen is not fiercely tempered anymore,  but he is... he is unsure.  the commander wavers after a long time.

@solastaes​  asked for  childhood memories !! @sheharrowed​  asked for  family meta !!

hawke,  as  of  inquisition,  has  naught  left  of  the  family  she  begun  with.  family  has  always  been  her  grounding  point,  a  salvation  and  reassuring  shoulder  to  a  girl  so  often  pulled  in  too  many  directions.  before  his  death,  hawke  adored  malcolm hawke,  if  disagreed  with  his  sheltering  of  bethany.  before  her  death,  leandra  was  a  calm  and  adoring  shoulder  to  cry  on.  carver  was,  for  all  his  brash  nature,  was  her  greatest  competition,  and  in  being  so,  was  her  greatest  confidante.  and  bethany  was  her  chosen  object  to  protect     (  until,  that  is,  that  object  decided  to  protect  itself  ).  

when  much  of  her  family  is  either  dead  or  far  away,  hawke  finds  family  ---  her  friends  turned  into  a  surrogate  kinship  that  she  desperately  needs.  Hawke  needs  to  be  grounded,  needs  an  anchor  to  her  wily  need  to  help.  So  when  her  blood  is  gone,  her  found  family  is  of  utmost  importance                     (  and  it  is,  as  always,  her  nature  to  lose  them  too  )

          A few days had passed since they left the circle. Now they were on their way to Redcliffe to seek Arl Eamon's aid. A task Kayli wished she could avoid. Other nobles might be willing to help, but not with Eamon's influence. While she had met him only once before, she had heard about the man from both nobles and common folk alike. She knew she would have a lot to deal with in the upcoming days.

          As she sat by the fire in camp, she couldn’t help but think about what happened at Kinloch Hold and what she saw. The demons, the abominations, all the death and destruction caused by one man. She had questions, questions she didn’t know who she could ask. And she was afraid. Afraid her daughter might be taken by the templars one day. Taken away to the horrors she had witnessed.

✯ IMPRISONMENT is man’s natural state. From his existence &                                                                                        our curse                                                We derive imprisonment unending.               IMPRISONMENT UNENDING, time doesn’t bleed here.       Passing of the year, the day, the hour. A cruel kind of infinite.

Enlisting the help of the mages! What a recurring pattern in history since man knew what his history was. Like treats to the pantry we dare to sneak our hands in to reach in, so daring, so clandestine: the best we have to save ourselves from temptation and desire. But then we slam the door shut: the Maker’s little SIN we conveniently hide until further need. Mages serve to save our souls, nothing more. And just that.                                        When we get to the part where he’s                                        breaking her heart, it can really make me cry.

In gallant blue-dyed leather attire adorned with gold and white silk, him and all his grace walks accompanied of the First Enchanter, whom gesture the Warden and welcomes him into the Circle’s library, taking his leave. The Warden so graciously bows with retracting arms like a mockingbird presenting; that beautiful, noble way they do in Orlais. He’s... thankful to the First Enchanter, to lend his mages for such a harrowing task. It is not for the faint hearted, only the broken hearted. A Warden knows of broken bodies and mangled souls.

❝Mmm...❞ he trails off the sound, looking all around him in the vast library, to find the suitable one. And why should the discerning customer walk the entire store when he can simply ask? 

The Circle tower of Kinloch Hold was by far the most impressive structure in Redcliffe, at least as far as Avexis had seen so far. It had taken a couple of weeks to travel from the border port Jader, down across the southern reaches of Thedas until they’d finally seen the looming Circle off on the horizon. Small fists had clenched tightly on the edge of the boat and the mage’s apprentice squeezed her eyes tightly in fear that some large sea monster might nudge the bottom and send them toppling over. It was much different crossing the narrow sea on a ship, never mind a rickety ship manned by a lone Templar at the docks. 

When they finally reached land once more Avexis felt as though she could kiss the steps of the tower if it wouldn’t completely shatter her remaining composure and mar the pristine apprentice robes that she’d been given for travel. Despite her exhaustion, the pale haired woman followed after her senior enchanter and the Templar guard, though her attention began to wane as the higher ranking members of the Circle discussed the pleasantries before truly meeting to discuss their reason for being there the following day.