#vigilflight

send “can I kiss you?” to see how my muse responds.

The question is moot before she has the time to answer, and all she can do as the slobbery tongue graces her cheek is twist her head down towards her shoulder and SQUEAK with laughter as she side-steps away from pup and wielder, doing her best to summon a dirty look to shoot at Bethany as she wipes her cheek off with a gloved hand and doing her double best to AVOID glancing the dog with a blast from her glare, so that the poor darling doesn’t think IT has done any wrong. 

hot

     word of stroud’s return from the marcher deep roads had reached kattrin a day or two ago, but swamped with her own duties & a little personal research she had started in her spare time, had left her unable to greet the man. she knew he had brought back a new recruit for her, a woman found tainted in the deep roads with her own party. she felt pity for her, forced into the wardens to save herself, but hopefully her own personal greeting could turn it into a better situation than it was.

     kattrin had promised herself to seek out the woman when she had a moment of time, which turned out to be near dinner that night. she’d give the recruit a warm welcome to the wardens, & perhaps get to know her better. the title of warden-commander still hung heavy on her shoulders, but it looked like making friends among her fellow wardens seemed to lessen its weight.

     with a vague description of appearance & on the hunt for an unfamiliar face, kattrin scanned the mess hall of vigil’s keep with a hawk’s eye. it took her a minute as she filled her own plate, but once she spotted her target, she made a beeline towards her.

  good evening hawke would and probably has killed...

I’m here for snitches getting stitches in kirkwall

Taking one for the team.

Sure, that’s what she’ll call it, HARRUMPHING a bit even as the little spitfire of a mage gets cute and presses a kiss to her cheek. 

     “You’re LUCKY I washed my face off FIRST,” the Warden-Commander grumps as if anyone would do anything ELSE, working on undoing the guts-slucked buckles of her armor so she can REMOVE the hideous sloppings of blood and worse from her body before her urge to VOMIT can prevail. 

Secretly, she’s THRILLED with herself. The feeling of taking on an ogre one-on-one -- and WINNING -- is the best kind of high, the thrill of it still lacing her veins with the sort of electricity one only felt when they did something extraordinarily stupid. Outwardly, though, IRRITATION is the only route to take. For an entire group of recruits to FREEZE at the sight of the beast, well. That was never a good sign. And though that wasn’t Bethany’s fault (or Nathaniel’s. or even Inara’s.), she couldn’t let THEM see her cheer up on account of one cute little junior Warden officer. 

Intimidation Meme

💀 - OH MY GOD DON’T EAT ME PLEASE

*exits, pursued by bear*

The simplest questions were hardest to answer. Ketojan sat for a long moment, contemplating his answer. 

“A name should describe the purpose of its bearer. Saarebas is dangerous thing. Arvaarad holds back evil. Your name hold no such function. It is between individuals, not purposes,” he explained slowly. An outside observer might think he was looking down on her, but speaking in the common tongue was new to Ketojan. He tried his best to be understood. “Bethany Hawke does not mean mage. Bethany Hawke means… the one with dark hair and bright eyes. The one who tends to her family and fellows. The one who fears Qunari. And then there is the name you share. Bloodlines are important to all of you, not just Tamassrans. It is… unusual.” 

Ketojan thought for another long moment.

give it a bit of a dusting while you’re at it