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It was a new change, sitting in the shade in the courtyard rather than hiding away in the vault with his books. He'd grown to enjoy the sound of the keep around him, the din of idle chatter and the sound of clashing metal as the troops went through their routines, through their training. It was easy enough to read through the noise and the conversation when it was just that, but this?

This was, unfortunately, mesmerizing.

It always was in a way when Dorian started weaving his spells, though by the makers mercy Maxwell never truly got the opportunity to stare much like he was now. With his book still open in his lap and his right hand resting atop the pages the Inquisitor is almost shameless in the way his eyes follow the other mans hand as it moved through the air. The ripples the heat left in it's wake, the delicate and deliberate movement of practiced hands tempering that heat to shift the colors in a dazzling show of skill.

Stop staring, Maxwell.

Stop. Stop staring.

He shifts faintly where he's seated, lifting and resettling the book in his lap in an attempt to tear his focus away and back on what he'd originally intended to do. Read. He could read while Dorian practiced too, of course he could -- The man turns and immediately his attention snaps back up, the eye contact when he'd only just moments ago managed to look away pulling color up into his cheeks, tinting the tips of his hears.

" Oh it's really-- No. Sorry. I was staring for a little bit there. "

@circlefled asked: read .   silently  read  a  book  alongside  my  muse. / 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄: still accepting.

It's frustrating. Out in the courtyard, the persistent humdrum of Skyhold pitters away. Normally, Dorian wouldn't mind the silence, not when there's a particularly novel tome with its horde of secrets. However, he would find no such fortune, the library here so abundantly lacking, and what's a man to do when beset with such a quiet?

Improvise. It's cold! In the air, a ripple of heat spills in a blur.

Here, Dorian would summon from the Fade, the faint murmuring of fire bristling in his wake. It's something of a marvel, surely, to this Circle-shackled noble cloistered in the South. But, still, how beautifully he would weave it, a shade like plunging resin caught fluttering up his arm. Dorian would wield spells like a brush, all impossible colors and mesmerizing feeling, and when hears the spine of that book of crackle? He turns. Catching those eyes, the altus grins.

"Invigorating, is it? More than me?" he teases. The book, he means. Tsk, tsk. "Unlikely."

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Maxwell is an extremely competent combatant. His reluctance to fight does not translate to an inability to do so.

Raised around the Templars in his family, he's disarmingly proficient in Sword and Board tactics, he can read opponents, spot weaknesses and openings, and exploit it. While he didn't maintain the muscle needed for this battle style in the circle, the muscle memory is still there.

In a similar vein but to a much smaller degree, Maxwell is still dangerous with a bow. One of his brothers was an Archer in the order and just like the rest insisted he learn as soon as he was strong enough to pull a bow with any real weight. The strength needed to pull a bow with enough weight in it to be worth attempting has waned in his circle years, but the accuracy remained.

That accuracy translates to thrown weaponry, but not the skill. Maxwell can hit the target with the throwing knife well enough but he can't get the angle or the speed down to keep it from hitting hilt first or bouncing off.

Overall, Maxwell can defend himself an others with a great many different fighting styles if his magic has otherwise been disabled. He just doesn't have the stamina to do it for long.

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in hushed whispers

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if you ever wanna ship with me just come to my ask and be like “listen dick face we bout to fuck shit up with a ship ok.”

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reblog if you want your followers to tell you one thing they secretly think about you.

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Let me tell you something: there are mirrors. Old mirrors, from the ancient times when our people ruled every part of this land. Only they’re not really mirrors–they’re Eluvians. You find some dusty old scholar, he’s going to tell you our people used Eluvians to talk to each other. Don’t believe it. They’re portals. You walk into one, and eventually you come out the other side…or, at least, this is what I’m told.

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I’d love to relax but it’s just not realistic

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Blythe Baird // Dave Eggers

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Skyhold DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION 2014・dev. BioWare

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Having had much fun with portraying Ramon Tikaram as an older Dorian Pavus, I thought I’d have a go and paint him as a young Dorian.

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Dragon Age: Inquisition | Frostback Basin Treehouse Camp

requested by @vimmark 💌

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“flirting” aka staring at u and when u look back at me i look away very fast so u wont see that i was staring at u

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tiny dagger on trouble maker only because he can be a trouble maker , it just depends on the circumstance and wouldn't be an all the time thing.

Well. Max already knew solas was his type, yet somehow he is still surprised by this. | are you his type?

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A bingo! | are you his type?

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i, personally, would love to calm down, and yet

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Oh. That would be the reason his heart hammers about in his chest at the sight of him, or the thought of him, or even the mere mention of him.

Sebastian Vael full sweep, Max's first love. | are you his type?