The Golden City

Princess Arianne Martell (via solarveined)

Anonymous (via wnq-writers)

❛ —– i’m tremblin’ in my boots, sweetheart. ❜ 

      christ, she’s fucking him off something sweet. he almost starts to       wonder if she’s from the same neck of the woods as him. nice girls       don’t have this much attitude. rough girls do. a smirk twitches on his       lips, but he doesn’t let it see life. instead he wraps a hand around her       throat. he’s all brute strength, right down to his fingertips. he’s not       going to kill her. he’s done enough killing for this lifetime. he just       wants to spook her a little. ❝ y'fuckin’ should be. ❞

Dagna’s lips curve in a smile. “That’s quite alright, serah. I’m used to it. What can I say, it’s the curse of us dwarves. We’ve got such charming looks, but only such a small ratio for them to cover.”

      ❝ That’s an oddly optimistic way of looking at it. I can’t comment on       Dwarven charm, though, you’re the first I’ve met. You might be       exceedingly cheerful, and everyone else is miserable. ❞ Is he joking?       It’s hard to tell sometimes. Mostly he’s just bad with people.

  ❝ It’s powerful because it has information people would die to protect      or kill to have. If you know any place it could be stored without attention,      I say you put it there. Castiel isn’t going to come and get it, and the people      who will aren’t the sort of people you want to run into. ❞

      ❝ The Word of God? You’ll have to excuse me, I’m not a Christian. ❞       Not to say he isn’t religious, he simply doesn’t believe in a single       primordial being. Especially not one with such confusing and       conflicting ethics and commands. He is silent as he thinks of       somewhere to hide this prize, keen as he is to try and decipher it. The       obvious answer is his home’s neighbouring city, but he doesn’t trust       the Oracles not to meddle. Rinian is his next best bet, but he doesn’t       want to endanger his friend without due cause. ❝ What sort of people       are they? ❞

                It had been quite some time since scars and                 lacerations have instilled a sense of discomfort                 for their own sake, instead eliciting something                 much closer to anger. It seemed as though the                 world would never run out of it’s victims to trauma,                 left over from those benders who would choose                 to use their talents to lord over others in power                 from violence. The wounds that marred his skin                 were not those of water or ice, but his tone spoke                 volumes…. this fact hardly mattered.               ❝ I’ve been walking a long time… I’m just looking for                a place to stay for the night. ❞

      He eyes her suspiciously. Ever since that girl that helped the Avatar,       everyone’s loved waterbenders. They heal. They’re tranquil. Gentle.       Surely that just makes it easier for them to sneak in and do harm?       They can’t all be upstanding citizens, can they? He elects to ignore his       gut feeling, though. It’s getting dark out, and his neighbourhood isn’t       the best. ❝ Got a spare blanket and some space on the floor. S'the best       I can offer. ❞

“ In the Wilds there are no Circles, no Templars, no Grey Wardens, nothing like that… so to capture abominations or kill Darkspawn or any demons… the witchers were created. But we have been trained in physical battle as well not just magic. And I can say we are stable. In the history of the witchers, I have never heard of anyone of us becoming an abomination. Which clearly shows the wrong of the ways of Templars and Circles… so you might want to rethink about judging someone for being born a mage. No one ever chose such a fate. “

      She can’t imagine what life must be like in the Wilds. She’s only ever       lived in Redcliff, and almost all of that was spent in the Chantry. The       Wilds have always been the setting for stories about monsters and       wild men. But the stranger doesn’t look wild. A little rough around the       edges, maybe, but nothing close to the barbarians she had come to       expect. ❝ What’s it like in the Wilds? It must be awfully scary. ❞ Cities       can be just as scary, though. She almost cried the first time she went       to Denerim. ❝ They can choose not to be mages anymore. The Rite of       Tranquility exists for a reason. ❞

Love And Space Dust (via story-dj)