#witchsabre

CONTINUED  FROM  HERE   /  @witchsabre

            That   had   been   unfair.    He  should  not  have  antagonized  them  so  quickly.  In  his  head,  the  words  had  been  teasing  ;  in  his  mouth,  they  were  just  cruel.

The  cabinet  door  shut  with  a  quiet  thump,  Faust  rubbing  their  eyes  on  the  other  side.  She  looked  small,  &  despite  the  anger  roiling  inside  her,  she  looked  tired.

Puck  frowned  only  slightly  when  they  didn't  take  the  potion,  &  bit  back  the  urge  to  chide  her  for  irritating  her  wounds.  Frustrations  taken  out  on  one's  own  body  never  did  fix  anything,  but  the  same  could  be  said  for  scolding  a  child  during  a  tantrum.  She  could  almost  hear  the  roar  of  fire  in  their  ears,  &  so  she  let  them  navigate  the  flames  on  their  own  for  a  moment.

           You're  not  like  this.

Her  lips  curled  into  a  soft  smile  then.  If  only  they  knew.      ❝      Better  at  what,  hm  ?   Giving  some  peace  of  mind  to  my  elders  by  drinking  the  healing  potion  offered  to  me  ?      ❞

           She  wasn't  much  better  at  that  at  all,  really.

A  clawed  finger  poked  their  cheek,  careful  not  to  prod  at  any  bruises or cuts.      ❝      Besides,  I  know  you,  Faust.  I'm  certain  you  aren't  the  only  one  that  left  with  a  black  eye.  Am  I  right   ?      ❞

When he first heard about their stowaway, Cathal had laughed. Apparently, that wasn’t the ideal reaction, and certainly not the one Leliana had been looking for, but he couldn’t really help himself. The sadness of the situation crept in, of course, but there was a good moment when he found it amusing to imagine a kid running around this place. And although some people seemed to speak about Cole as if he were a child, Cathal had never viewed him that way. This, it seems, is entirely different. 

As they always do, his advisors had declared it the Inquisitor’s decision, to some extent, to make sure they were doing the right thing with them. And he’d agreed, although the thought of being responsible for a life younger than his own rings a sort of bell in his head. 

After all, the Inquisitor isn’t exactly old himself. The young man sitting atop the war table seems awfully relaxed. “So, why Skyhold? Or, maybe how is the better question,”

either slightly approves or slightly disapproves depending on a few factors:

how it comes up. if this is in response to a wild magic surge, she will take the offer as a slight.

what they're teaching. what do the tricks do? she will ask, she expects answers, and anything about letting it be a surprise is a no. she already did that with the necromancy of thay, this time alara wants to know what's going into her brain.

also she needs to pick up on them quickly or she'll think faust is trying to make her feel dumb. :)

hug ruby // @witchsabre ;;

𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑼𝑵𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑫𝑬𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑨𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲, Ruby was careful to always make time for Faust when he found themself at her door. Kind words were a rarity on her lips for her peers, but children would always be a distinct exception, and she praised Faust openly for a job well done.

What she did not expect was their reaction to the most recent compliment. Ruby stiffened instinctively as his arms encircled her waist -- an old habit she'd never quite grow out of -- but made no move to pull away. She hardly expected Faust to make any grand shows of affection, much less touch her, to the point that a hug had never even entered her thoughts.

Somehow, Jon's frown seemed to deepen. Of course he wasn't smiling, the Inquisition was a very serious matter. He needed to play the part, to be-

The child's fingers got near his mouth, and he took a giant step backwards, baring his teeth in a snarl. "Do not touch me!"

Perhaps an overreaction to a precocious child, but he didn't like being touched. There were very few people who could touch Jon without permission, and this child certainly didn't count among them.

Kar slips down from her perch above on lands on their feet with a fluid grace that made her seem more feline in human form. The staff shrinking and turning back to its more common dagger state in her hand. Her presence both the playful air of a trickster being and something more deeper and unfathomable. Magic came to her as reflexive as breathing or a heartbeat, someone one does but doesn't even need to think about it.

"What is the key part of magic?" Kar asked, looking for a moment like the professor people expected, and not the semi-feral creature one faced in reality. "Intention."

She paused, adding. "Take a breath-- visualize the intention. Make the abstract literal. What do you want this ward to do? Will it to your command."

A wicked smile cross her lips; it seems she's found the perfect audience. It's no fun to tell a story to someone barely listening, their attention more on their cup than to her. Laika finds herself inching forward, back straightening. A good performer never slouches ( unless the role absolutely calls for it! )

“ My greatest? Quite the ask. ” As if she does not have at least two favorite stories lined up. The kind she tells when the newest recruits need something to keep as an aspiration in their back pocket.

Ever the dramatist, Laika gestures and plays, first, spreading her arms wide for the introduction, “ Put yourself in the dim, dusty backstreets of Minrathous. Fog rolls in off the Nocen Sea. ” She waves her hands, and pulls them closer in; mimicking a wave.

“ It's never sunny in Dock Town, and certainly not for long. The brass have the entire expanse, from the shore, ” She points from the left end of the table, and drags her arm to the right, “ to the Middle City Gate, shut down. They were looking for escaped rebels, caught in the act of market disruption. ” Code talk: to free slaves.

Laika drops her voice to a quiet rumble, “ Out from an alley, four Chantry folk come walking out, heads down real low. ” She tips her head down, looking Faust in the eye. “ Shortest in the lead, she's prayin' to everyone but the Maker that the Guards don't look too close. See, the rebels they're hunting were the procession of fake nuns. ”