* 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 ╱ 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 !

                    He breathes in the painfully FAMILIAR aura—-not that of a spirit or entity, but one of a tortured HUMAN. Sent back to where he started, on the DARKER side of the Veil, the spirit was without purpose. He remembers her from so long ago, & hunts her down before something else does. & he can only hope that she will recognize him as he is, & not as a demon coming to tempt her, “Victoria…” / @victorybird / sc.

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄?  There is no sense of time,  nor sense of distance ; on she treks in a hope she can scarcely remember anymore,  in pursuit of only survival.  ( She knows little else. )  Perhaps it has been only a day since she defeated the Nightmare,  but it feels so much longer than that.  Perhaps she has only gone in circles while the Fade reshapes itself around her.  Or maybe it’s been a lifetime,  or two or three,  and the world has moved on.

                            Perhaps she is dead,  and this is her hell.

“Oh.” Surely that’s not all he can think to say. Not when he’s been presented with such a… colourful sounding character. “When did you see this transformation again?” He sure was full of questions tonight.

He shouldn’t frown. It could be nice to be indulged, even on less prideful points. “Who?” Has he moved himself forward a little too closely to the edge of his seat? Perhaps. He wasn’t Hector after all.

“Suit yourself. It was just a flight of fancy anyway.” Too much like a pun: bleh.

“Griffons.” Alright, so no fire but the other marks checked out. “They’ve earned a little more respect than they’re given, since their presence overhead doesn’t spell out destruction.”

“Because the world is sorely lacking more…?”

       she pauses, taking her time before making her final decision. as much as she wanted to follow the magister, to gain more insight before heading back towards skyhold – if he was heading towards adamant fortress, then they’d just be walking into a trap. evelyn didn’t know much of the fortress, other than it was impossible to penetrate. she’d rather have a plan to get in there, then to rush in and get ambushed.

a sigh moves past her lips and her gaze flickers to move to where her companions where waiting, feet ahead. ‘  skyhold it is. we need a plan if we’re ever going to get into that fortress, and ruin corypheus’s plans.  ’ her head tilts as she looks over at victoria, waiting a beat for her answer.

❝ 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃,  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍, ❞  Victoria confirms without missing a beat,  even as her lips twist into a frown.  She HATES the idea of him getting away,  hates to simply turn her back,  and so when she turns and begins to head the other direction,  without waiting for the Inquisitor,  it’s with a sidelong glare towards their Warden friend.  ❝ It’d be nice,  though, ❞  she continues,  voice louder,  ❝ if there was someone who could TELL US about it. ❞

                            Stroud opens his mouth to speak,  but Victoria cuts him off.

          INTENDED OR OTHERWISE, the remark was received as an insult. Little more than a cocked brow and tilted head reflected Ariadne’s irritation, however, her expression otherwise impassive as she eyed the stranger for a moment or two, only to then turn her attention to the task at hand. She was not so proud (or unwise) as to rock the boat unnecessarily.

“ A blade in his boot, nothing more, ” she remarked plainly, tucking a loose strand of white hair behind her ear. “ But I wouldn’t discount magic. Meeran wants him alive, after all, and mages backed into corners tend to… ” A pause, and Ari shrugged a shoulder. “ Well, templars carry swords for a reason, I suppose. Any particular way you’d like to go about this? ”

𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍,  the tilt of her head or raised eyebrow,  too focused is she on the mission at hand.  Her gaze roves slowly over their target and his sellswords,  lips twisted in concentration.  It won’t do her any good ; the moment Ariadne mentions magic she knows it’s useless.  Whatever comes next will either be simple,  easy -- or it will go terribly wrong.  ❝ Are we SURE Meeran needs him alive? ❞  she sighs,  knowing full well the answer is yes.  

                              ❝ You up for providing a distraction?  Rain a few arrows,  I’ll go down and sneak up on our fancy little lordling.  Should be easy enough to knock him out and head back. ❞

⇒ Lyric is listening, watching, the space before them. She appears like a vision, beautiful and crested in starlight, her hair as fair as the moon itself. Her voice is soft and compels them to speak the truth, but Lyric will not be swayed by falsehoods. They have not come this far to fall to the tricks of a maiden of any kind.

“And yet you are still here.”

⇒ They do not answer, deliberately. Beneath the thick fabric of their cloak their hand rests on a sharpened knife, curved like an eagle’s talon for rending flesh from bone. They stand slowly, wary–Her story might be worth pitying if Lyric had ever believed it, but no person would calmly wander these woods. Not unless they had power greater than things that sleep in shadows.

“This cloak is not beautiful; for once, it was white and embroidered by my mother’s hands and now it is RED, like the blood in me.”

⇒ Lyric plants their feet firmly on the ground, stares up at the woman with their sharp eyes, the shade harsh orange as if made from amber facets. They breath out slow. Is her smile too sharp, or just enough?

“People must pass through these woods again and again– they must escape the wolf every time.

So which are you? The wolf of the savior?”

❝ 𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑. ❞  The wolf responds without hesitation,  carefully measuring each of their movements,  trying to decide -- what will get them to falter?  Which form will gain their trust,  which one will allow her to strike?  She knows the warnings the villagers pass along,  knows only those too idiotic,  too confident would choose not to heed them.  But the danger is what makes the hunt so much more FUN.  Who will be the one that tries to fight back?  

❝ I only wish to see the beast dead. ❞  She takes a small step forward.  ❝ So tell me, ❞  all at once her voice is sharp,  demanding,  ❝ are you here to kill it?  If not,  then you waste both my time and yours,  and you should LEAVE.  Preferably before it finds you. ❞  Another step forward,  bright blue eyes filled with fire,  lips twisting into a SNARL.  

                         ( The wolf is many things ; overly patient is not one of them. )  

       ‘ where? you mean your boots? weird, i thought it was just me. ‘

“Well,” she says, “they’re white, and they walk. Sometimes they run.” 

     Astoria isn’t meant to have loyalties. She is a Grey Warden, and the Grey Wardens are meant to exist outside of the ever-changing flow of politics and noble houses and everything that comes with them. But what she is meant to do and what she does are entirely different, she finds, and more and more she realizes that her loyalties have been secured practically since her arrival. And so she doesn’t trust the Lannisters, or the woman sworn to them – but she can be practical, at the very least.

     “They’re terrible,” she says after a beat, and she looks up; she’s been sitting on the stone, feet dangling over the side and heels knocking idly against the wall. “They look like death. They’re worse, even, than the darkspawn in the east – those look like monsters. There’s something human enough in these beasts that makes them worse. And they’re clever, which is probably worst of all. Do you intend to stay and fight them?” She quirks an eyebrow, offers up a crooked smile. “Are you any good?”

❝ 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋. 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎. ❞  Victoria shrugs,  allows her gaze to travel out towards the horizon to the north.  She hates it up here,  hates the cold and the way it seeps into her very bones.  She hasn’t the slightest idea what darkspawn are,  or how far east this girl is from to have encountered such a thing,  but they all just sound like monsters that need to be killed to her.  Bigger monsters than the man she’d been sent to kill,  supposedly hiding out among the Night’s Watch like a coward.

                        Either the coward has fled,  or he was never here at all.

with     the     way     victoria     barely     gets     her     words     out,     please     excuse     her,     but     temperance     doesn’t     quite     believe     her.     and     for     good     reason     too.     she     is     small     but     does     her     best     to     hold     the     other     woman     up.     how     she     can     even     begin     to     think     she     was     okay,     she     isn’t     sure.     ‘ victoria, ‘     perhaps     the     inquisitor     is     overreacting,     but     wow,     she     never     expected     this     today.     ‘ come     here     and     take     a     seat. ‘     see     if     she     can     get     someone     to     look     at     her     leg.

          ‘     NOT     .     .     .     EXACTLY      ——                      uh   .   i  do   .   .   .   things   ——   to  my  hair   ,   yes   .                sometimes   .   not  every  day   .

                     maker   ——   why  does  everyone  seem  to  be  obsessed  with  what  i  do  to  it   ?                              it’s  just  hair   !  ‘