#ymirgel

His first thought (if it can be called that, more distracted acknowledgement than coherent statement that it is), when confronted with this farcical interrogation, is that surely Ymir has been strong armed (metaphorically speaking, of course!) into participation, as he can't for the life of him imagine why she would care one single whit about the intimate particulars between himself and Cassandra. It is exponentially baffling, again, considering that while he doesn't particularly feel the need to share the minutia of what those intimate particulars may or may not entail with all and sundry, really at this point he would assume the answer to the question is obvious.

The second, perhaps more salient, domino to fall in this string of events is the sensation of Manfred's goggled eye sockets firmly fixated on him, rictus skeletal grin at odds with the sharp, raspy gasp, where he still stands frozen, the calipers Emmrich's requested before they'd been interrupted extended for him to take.

"Smash?" The tone of the hissed word is horrified, to put it mildly, and his wide, round, panicked gaze finds Cassandra before returning to Emmrich himself, with a new sternness. "No smash!"

He can feel the heat spread to the tips of his ears, internally cursing both his unfortunate knowledge of the colloquial meaning of the term and the terrible timing with which it is thrust upon him. "Ah...Manfred, I'm afraid you might have misund-"

"No." Manfred takes one of Emmrich's hands, none too gently, and slaps the calipers into it, where it clacks against his grave gold. "Smash. Work."

―  𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑺𝒀𝑴𝑩𝑶𝑳𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺. 

"Would you rather I spell it out? I thought you'd like your mysteries. Crypts. Seances. The rumors of an affair at the funeral service. The typical Mourn Watch accoutrements -- give or take the last."

Oh, Dorian. Even now, it would appear, he's not much changed. Of course, she wouldn't know that, would she?, being more inducted in the Mourn Watch than the raggedy little band that had made the Inquisition. Still, he's no less friendly and accommodating, a smile and a humor so plainly worn about him. Oh, so certainly does he dance them, pulling on the strings of the dead in half a waltz. Indeed, he had even followed Emmrich, had so regrettably learned how to make ghosts serve, but all the bubbling rumors of the 'unruly little magister'? He inclines his pretty head. And smiles wider.

" thy company is most welcomed, friend. i've the leisure for idle conversation. "

"Ymir, isn't it? I've heard of you."

Being the local fear demon held under the care of the Mourn Watch had ... benefits. And by benefits, it meant plenty of socialization ranging from jokes, to stories, and downright gossip. Anything to teach the learning former hope spirit.

Though, perhaps starting with a 'is it true that your weapon is made from your enemy's skull?' is a bit too forward.

( frankenstein // accepting ) YMIR [ @ymirgel ] WROTE: ❝You shall repent of the injuries you inflict.❞

JOHANNA'S DECAYING LIPS TWISTED OVER her teeth. What a hateful word: repent. How the Chantry Mothers cracked it whip-sharp over their congregations' heads. How the shroud-kissing Mortalitasi emphasized it was possible — necessary — even after death. As if every soul existed to bruise its knees begging for someone to drive a boot into their face. They made repentance seem a virtue, a self-driven renewal of the soul, but the root of that word meant punishment. Johanna Hezenkoss' flayed herself for no one.

❝Spoken like a true Watcher: all bark without the bite to enforce it. Belaboring how far superior I am to you would do me as much good as explaining metaphysics to a sliver of pond algae, but even the mangiest dog must listen. You can ask Volkarin to define any words you don't understand later.❞

There was a momentary temptation to gather power like thunderclouds. The threat of a storm that would rip palaces from their foundations. Such posturing wouldn't wind her even in the mortal world, and here in this so-called Lighthouse in the Fade? Child's play. Ymir could dispel it with a twist of that lyrium blade riding her hip, courtesy of the Evanuris' shattered geas holding Johanna in check. Barely. It would nevertheless be a reminder of how fragile that hold was. A caged viper could still kill.

But, Ymir was not worth that effort to her.

      ❛  here, you look like you need this more than me right now.  ❜

          ❛❛   Oh   ...   uh   ...   ❜❜        uncertainty paints the healer's expression,   dark hues catching the offered flask before they could recognize the one it belonged to.   Ymir,   he only caught her name by chance,   a stranger very much like him who only happened to be around when a group of bandits tried their hand at pillaging the town.   Successfully drawn out by collective effort the two and those brave enough to stand their ground.   He took to tending to the wounded afterwards,   the exhaustion of the long trip before and the overuse of his light had drained him much faster than anticipated.   He sat for a moment to catch his breath,   just enough so he can go about his way,   perhaps he looked a little worse for wear that had the other offer what little resources she possessed.        ❛❛   Thank you.   ❜❜        he says,   accepting her aid,   but only having a little sip in case she needed it more than he did.   The item is handed back,   now the fog that clouded his vision a little clearer,   she wasn't in better shape than him,   dirt   &.   blood covered her from head to toe.        ❛❛   What about you ?   Are you alright ?   ❜❜

@ymirgel // he's always tired that's just his face

you’re ……… pregnant?

You're Pregnant? ||

Cassandra should have known having to turn down a chance for an expedition into the lower levels of the Necropolis would have been hint as to her condition. She tried her best, keeping the symptoms tame until in private when it came to morning sickness, or giving vague excuses for avoiding alcohol. So when her flippant excuse for passing on the mission, she had to tell her sister the news.

❝  let me do this for you.  ❞ self-sacrificing sibling moment

YOU CAN KILL ME BUT DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH THEM ||