#thewardcn

         SURROUNDED ON all sides, cullen turns to prayer. pleading with the maker to spare him the turmoil of this day. orlesian politics, is there no greater evil? has he not been punished enough for his sins? must he now exchange pleasantries with masks for atonement? no, he will hide. off the vestibule there is a space uninhabited by foolish fancy beyond the clawing reach of nobility. a garden. beautiful, but under construction and therefore unfit for the soiree. perfectly suited, though, for a commander reaching his last nerve.

           HE DROPS his weight without thought onto the marble bench, setting free a long caged sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose. there he sits for sometime, unmoving, as if he were the latest piece of the garden. a statue of a subdued commander. that would be his title were he a fixture here. he chuckles to himself at the thought, interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. panicked, he attempts to conceal himself behind a tree. 

@thewardcn​

    she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been a little bit EXCITED for the arrival to skyhold. and yes, perhaps she’s been through and made sure most of the rubble has been removed from the floor, despite the other, far more PRESSING situation at hand. 

after all, it’s been YEARS. 

leliana is there at the gate when the warden finally arrives, there is time to discuss corypheus and time to discuss the inquisitor...later. now is the time for something far more innocent, reuniting with those she cares about. 

of course, the last time she had seen the warden she was barely coming into who she was, let along carrying the title of sister nightingale, part of her wonders how her old friend would feel about the change. but she still greets the other with a warm smile. 

anders writing a very angry letter to the warden commander like a week after they leave amaranthine about how the orlesian wardens want him to give pounce away, even after attempting to passionately argue that if mabari can go through joinings then why can’t his cat at least be an honorary warden

He watched her approach, a small smile on his face the giveaway for Alistair’s affection for the returning party. Eyes remained on the human in front of him, grin growing more broad as she finally stepped within hearing range.

“You’ve improved since last I saw you my Lady.” Cauthrien hums, glancing down at the Cousland girl. “Though still slow with your shield hand.”

Just assigned to Havoc squad and already things were looking bad. First, their ship was shot down by Separatists and now his team was captured, possibly killed, before he had even gotten a chance to know them. Talk about rotten luck. Nothing had gone Roland’s way since, well, for a very long time now. 

Now, he had left Fort Garnik and was headed to the Separatist’s stronghold in the mountain. Alone. Roland would worry if there was any time to process the emotion. It was easier to focus on his task, and to serve the Republic, than to get lost in processing his emotions. There would be time for that later. 

Even more so when the battlefield commanded his full attention. The path to the mountain was paved with seps. All of Ord Mantell was, but he seemed to be walking through a particularly thick patch of them. Crouched behind an rocky outcropping, Roland loaded his gun and then, noting the lack of blaster fire, stepped out from his cover.

Only to find the sep dead. 

Roland paused. It sure as hell wasn’t his blaster that killed him. Roland looked around to find the source, expecting to find another soldier of the Republic. Instead, he found a ghost.