#xcapableof

“... Jack.” Seoras was determined to meet his eyes, as hard as it had been for them so since he arrived. Every time Seoras looked, they thought of of the way they’d left him with – nothing. An obituary in a newspaper, if anything, when he’d deserved so much more.

Their throat felt tight. They’d stared down monsters human and alien without flinching, but looking at the man they’d –  well. Jack’s opinion meant a lot more to them than some monster’s.

“I suppose I wanted to ask if – I mean, you came here, I don’t know if that means something to you, I can’t say enough how much it means to me – but if...” They fidgeted. They’d been silently working themself up to this, but now that the moment was here, they couldn’t make themself speak sense.

     “There were rumours you had a fall-out with your father... and so that’s what it was all about.”  Like most members of the upper class, she adored poking her nose into matters she had nothing to do with - rumours and gossip. Now, however... Janna approached Dorian rather carefully, not even sure whether now was a good moment to speak to him. Of course, she had encouraged him to hear his father out, at the very least, though she was not sure what came out of it, in the end. Maybe he would tell her now.

👑ROYALTY AU STARTERS👑  ( accepting )

“As if my reputation wouldn’t suffer from your influence either.         You aren’t the only one with everything to lose. Your father isn’t exactlypopular outside of the castle walls.”

Freja’s...well, her everything aches. The anchor is sending the occasional shooting pain up her arm, and insists on throbbing dully in between. Then there is her head, aching in protest at the reading she is attempting to do. Why it’s so important for the “herald” to be able to read she isn’t sure, but Josephine was insistent and she’s not in the mood for another argument with her. She knows that the ambassador is just trying to do her job, but Maker’s arse, it’s not her fault she’s a casteless shit bag and an ex-carta thug. She agrees with Varric; if this is the Maker’s doing then he has a wicked sense of humour. 

The door of the Inquisition's library creeks open and she looks up, thankful for the distraction. A grin is thrown in the direction of her companion, and she abandons the book she’s been trying to make sense of. Instead she kicks her feet up onto the table, her hands resting behind her head. 

@xcapableof

Like is too strong a word for how Bull feels about the Western approach. It’s hot and dry, leaves him sticky with sweat, and the biting flies are a nightmare. But there’s one redeeming quality of the Western Approach; all the goddamn Venatori, and the rampant slaughter thereof.

Even if the heat dries the blood sticky on his skin, there’s something deeply satisfying, even therapeutic, he’d say, about killing roaming bands of Tevinter nut jobs. Even getting carted around with that bratty Altus the inquisitor holds a candle for couldn’t ruin his good mood after cutting a venatori spellbinder in half.

“Hey, boss!” he calls out as they crest over a sandy cliffside. There’s a cluster of venatori down below, currently tucked-tail and running away from a roaring varghest. Inquisitor Batista comes up beside him, followed by Dorian and Sera. She immediately busts out laughing and suggests they just stay up here and watch the venatori get eaten, but the Inquisitor makes the call that they’ll go down and kill both the venatori and the varghest. He’s been wanting new boots, after all.

— To say she’d kept an eye on him upon first hearing the word ‘shapeshifter’ used to describe him would be an understatement. She’d been curious at first, wondering how this odd elf had learned such a rare (and oft forbidden) skill. Eventually, she’d come to find herself more interested in guiding him. It wasn’t often that she came across mages interested in learning the art, let alone those who already knew.