#toffeeee

HAHAHA that's very funny, I will do it though I'm not sure I will have much of a fulfilling answer to the question but we shall see !!

H: How would you describe your style?

I'm trying to be as objective about this as possible, to make some sort of analysis of my writing from an outside perspective, but it's difficult :') I would say it's simple. Not in a bad way, but I try not to over-embellish things or add too many descriptors to clutter it up. I'm not the most verbose person in terms of my writing, because my entire goal is just to carry across an emotion. And I try to do that in as few words as possible. Give the reader only as much information as they need, and leave the rest up to their imagination in a way. For some reason, that is just where I have come to with my style.

When Cole returned to them he pointed the way to a cave along the rocky coast that would make good shelter for the storm. His timing was a lucky thing as the cold rain began hurtling at them along with the sea’s salty spray.

“We're lucky to have found such a place, the other groups further into the forest wouldn't have this luxury,” Blackwall said absent mindedly as he looked about the cave for dry materials to burn. If they were going to be stuck in here they may as well be warm.

“You are right.” Cole said in an amused tone, obviously sensing something but not sharing.

After finding a small pile of dried twigs and such in a small alcove off to the side, Blackwall began building a firepit, beginning by digging out a little dip in the ground with his hands.  A few decently sized rocks dropped down beside him, kicking up loose clouds of dust and dirt that made him cough a little as he breathed it in. He glanced up a noted Aphel stepping away to search for more.

~

Andre paced back and forth, expression filled with worry. How much of that had she heard? What did she make of it? Had he'd been too harsh on Julien? He shook his head. No. She had no idea how much he'd changed since they were little. She'd just have to figure that out on her own, it seemed. Still, he was worried for both of them – Gwyneth and Julien. Even though the Templar had followed her, who knows if they'd found each other or if they were both simply lost.

“You'll wear a hole in the ground if you keep that up,” Iron Bull said simply, turning the venison over on the fire.

~

Julien jolted awake with an audible gasp. He sat up with a quiet groan, folding his arms onto his raised knees and resting his head against them. A nightmare - not an unusual occurrence of late.  Although this time he could not quite remember it, only that it was quite distressing. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly a few times, letting the sounds of the forest calm him.

A sudden shiver rose up through his body and any lingering feelings caused by the unwanted dream were shaken from his head. The early morning nip was still in the air as the sun began to rise up above the horizon. It was then he noted his marked hand aching, as it often did when these nightmares came to him, only this time it ached so bad it was making his arm shake slightly. He wondered for a moment if that was a side effect of his recent reality hopping – he'd have to ask Aphel the next time he saw her if she'd been experiencing anything similar.

“Really? Why don’t you share it then?” Bull said nonchalantly.

Gwyn swallowed. Shit. He was onto her. She wondered just how loyal to her brother he was. Would be foil her plans if he knew? Or would he assist? It was a risk she couldn't afford to make.

“Its Circle Mage humor – you wouldn't get it,” she said, laughing nervously as she sipped her ale.

“You're acting pretty suspicious there, Gwyn,” he replied, eyeing her intently.

She scratched the back of her neck.

A warm orange glow from the setting sun shone through the window and a loud, rapid tapping on his door, woke Andre from his nap. Groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes (and the drool from his mouth) he sat up on the couch he had crashed on. That had not been a good idea. His muscles ached from being in such an awkward position for so long. How long had be been laying there? At least he had had the sense to remove his armor first.

The tapping increased its frequency and he groaned.  Raising from his spot, still half asleep, he trudged over to the door and opened it, eyes squinted. As the cool air from the hall hit his bare chest, it dawned on him he'd not found his shirt. It was too late to go back now and, despite how self concious he was, he'd have to just roll with it.

“Marlow? The Guard Captain? I'm surprised he's even mentioned him to you. It's been twenty odd years since they were together...” Celeste said, studying his expression for clues. There! That awkward glance away from her. So they didn't talk about it? Then... oh.

“He saw him in the Fade, didn't he? Shit. That explains his attitude then.”

Celeste released a long breath. Oh boy. This was going to be unpleasant. She got up and padded over to her table, brandishing two glasses and a bottle of wine. Pouring one for each of them she returned, handing one to Dorian before returning to her seat. She took a sip of hers.

~

Cypress and Blackwall both stood at the counter of one of the local bakeries, purchasing all the discounted end-of-day loves of bread – at least 2 dozen of them. Cypress had insisted they come here first before they moved on to the Alienage. This bread would feed all the orphans there for the next couple of days at least. Last time she'd come through here, they'd all been half starved – the lady that ran the place had been late on rent and not been able to feed them. Cypress had helped her out of that fix right quick. She paid the baker the correct amount and turned to Blackwall.

“C'mon, Possum! That bread isn't going to carry itself!” she hounded him, hands on hips.