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ABOUT: Emmrich Volkarin

ABOUT: Tarquin

ABOUT: Davrin

ABOUT: Alistair Theirin

ABOUT: Vittorio [ OC ]

ABOUT: Reyes [OC]

ABOUT: Godfrey [OC]

THIS BLOG WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE GAME.

This blog is a sideblog. That means any likes or follow-backs will come from my mainblog, @infernalmechanic . All asks from this blog will be sent on anon (or from my mainblog, if you have anon turned off) and ‘signed’ with this blog’s URL.

When sending in askmemes to this blog, please specify which muse you intend it for, or I will not respond.

Also:

DO NOT REBLOG MY RP POSTS IF YOU ARE NOT PART OF THEM.

What does this mean?

It means if you are a personal / non-RP blog, or an RP blog who is not taking part in a roleplay thread of mine, do not reblog that thread. You will know if it is a roleplay thread because I always tag such posts with  #rp .

Posts that are okay for personal / non-RP blogs to reblog from me:

images, photosets, and/or gifsets

quote posts

most OOC posts / non-RP-related posts  (they are tagged with  #ooc )

NOT TO FUCKING REBLOG MY RP POSTS IF YOU ARE NOT PART OF THEM

christ, i put it right in my blog description!! hello???? do i have to put it in the tags? turn off reblogs on answered asks? fucking hell at this point i'm considering both]

Devoted, Yearning, & Obsessive Starters

@serpentinemask

Tarquin was often quick to call others saps and hopeless romantics, to tease them about how besotted they were, and to accept he'd probably never see anyone act or talk like that about him. He'd been fine with it, really. No one had caught his eye to such a level anyway, so dealing with that much intensity from someone else would've just felt strange and stifling.

Like in so many things, Ashur was his exception.

Ashur just being himself had pulled Tarquin deeper and deeper into a slew of dreams and cravings and hopes. Ashur matching every one of those desires felt like the only time the Maker had ever shown Tarquin mercy. Ashur treating him with such adoration, even in small and casual ways, made Tarquin want to balk, to cling, to argue and say nothing and cry. And Ashur being so honest could still take Tarquin's breath away.

His hands lowered as he finished untying his hair, letting it sweep forward around his face while he shifted his weight back against the other man. Staring at the stars in question out the small window of his flat, Tarquin rested one palm on the arm looped round his bare waist while his other hand rested on Ashur's cheek. His own face was burning with ruddy pink from ear to ear. I don't know why you'd tie yourself to me... but please don't let go.

Devoted, Yearning, & Obsessive Starters

@stixnbonez

Emmrich would rather not think about precisely how long it'd been since he'd been involved in a confession. He'd much prefer to dwell on Stix's words. Emmrich had been the one to invite the younger Watcher here, among cascades of Shroud's Kiss and beneath the statue of embrace. He had prepared himself to hear a kind and careful refusal, or perhaps an awkward one, hinting toward his age as the primary reason.

Instead, he was offered such an intimately, viscerally romantic sentiment that Emmrich's breath caught in his throat.

Emotional & Plot-Driven Intimacy Starters

@rialtoborn

The qunari, apparently invited to be boasted about by another noble who'd sought some long-stolen heirlooms, had caught Vittorio's eye for most of the evening. Not only because of the other's height, but for that curtain of hair like moonlight and how each smile and laugh on those handsome features made the ballroom seem a little brighter. Vittorio had been entirely content to sit in his crafted persona of a harmless hedonistic nobleman, when it meant counting such a person among those he watched.

It was crossing paths, in a quiet corridor near the guestrooms of the host's manor, which revealed he hadn't been the only one watching, nor the only one interested. Pleasant conversation, with more and more suggestion, had given way to this request from who he now knew as Burhan. A flattering request indeed, and certain to be a better use of the evening than more rehashes of old gossip.

Devoted, Yearning, & Obsessive Starters

@demondellamorte

Though Emmrich had been sunk into deep sleep for an unknown span of hours, he woke with a small start, as if surprised he'd slept at all. What time was it? What day? Such concerns hadn't troubled him before, not like they did now. Not with Rook missing. Missing, not gone. He refused to even think the word. It felt too... final. Too much like the loss of Lace.

Last he remembered, he'd failed once again to complete their fake lyrium dagger. Then he'd been poring over all his notes and supplementary tomes for the latest of countless times; there had to be something he'd missed, some fine detail overlooked. A stretch to lean back on the sofa... Ah, that must've been it.

"Damn it all," Emmrich muttered, rubbing sleep from shadowed eyes and smoothing unkempt hair back from his face. As his hand lowered, he belatedly registered a familiar gaze fixed upon him from above, its welcome owner likely near the sofa's armrest.

Devoted, Yearning, & Obsessive Starters

@anothercrowbastard

In Davrin's defense, the cover was open.

Only the cover, which for him was enough reason to flip through it and find out where - or who - it might've come from. They'd started a little informal book club here in the Lighthouse, after all, so pretty much anyone was a candidate. And if it was something important, even more reason to keep it away from Assan's beak and claws.

Turned out, it wasn't the sweeping romantic adventure or academic thesis he'd half-expected. The sketches were pretty decent; flattering to see portraits and poses of him took up two full pages. Then a turn... and another turn. Well how about that. Davrin couldn't recall ever being anyone's 'muse' before, but that seemed like the best word for how many pages were covered with his own face. A few of them, he even remembered the particular moments: allowing Assan a play break in Arlathan, at Esha's request, and getting caught up in indulging his charge; laughing in the midst of another strength competition at Taash's story about guiding a pompous rich asshole through old catacombs. Most of the others, though, made him realize how often the person behind the pencil had been looking at him. He didn't even know he made some of these expressions...

Davrin flipped back to the inside front cover, hoping to find a name. Seeing those four familiar letters wasn't a surprise, not exactly. More like... a flattery. So, Esha had been staring too?