dereliict-blog1 - Tumblr blog

[dereliict-blog1]

Isabela in Dragon Age: Those Who Speak #2

[dereliict-blog1]

If you don’t become the ocean you’ll be seasick every day.

Leonard Cohen (via sacred-chaotic-geometry)

[dereliict-blog1]

I hear the waves taste like ashes and it feels right, thousands of years of bodies being thrown over ships, of bodies never going back to the earth thousands of words for dead and dying, of moments where I can’t breathe through the smoke the ocean and I are tired of holding on to so much death

a mouth full of remains and a sea full of loss || O.L. (via poetbitesback)

[dereliict-blog1]

She was the kind of girl who was a chaos of contradictions from one second to the next, for her mind was never free. Sometimes bright like the sun, sometimes calm like the moon, sometimes stormy like the ocean, and sometimes all three.

A Girl of Contradictions | Nikita Gill (via untamedunwanted)

[dereliict-blog1]

She’s got oceans tucked away in her hair, poems swim under her skin.

Sanober Khan (via pascalestarosta)

[dereliict-blog1]

[dereliict-blog1]

I’ve never been one for calm water. Give me the storm. Give me the challenge of sailing. Don’t make it easy. After all, a rough sea is a challenge. It teaches you how to love the ship and to respect the storm. Give me a hurricane, leave me breathless. I’m ready for the challenge.

If you sail with me, it won’t be easy, but it’ll be worth it- © Michael Greywood Poetry-2015 (via mgreywood)

[dereliict-blog1]

Queen of the Eastern Seas

[dereliict-blog1]

Born out of water, Waves pushed her outward; Of the sea she’s the daughter And not one of a coward. Child of the ocean, Wild and free; The tide set her in motion, The wind whispers her decree To erase mankind’s sins And wipe them clean off their skins.

denmysterywoman (via denmysterywoman)

[dereliict-blog1]

[dereliict-blog1]

hemorrhaging :

[ ᴍᴀʟᴇғɪᴄᴀʀᴜᴍ ] ℋ ;; – The only reprise they both have is that it’s only a week and her ship is big enough that he could avoid Isabela, so long as she doesn’t purposely go and look for him. Avoiding an admiral on her own ship would be a foolish endeavour, but at some point he’s certain he’s going to try.

The Champion’s appearance on deck is his confirmation that he’s slept for FAR too long, even though the brightness of the sky told him that in only a couple hours it would begin to darken again as the sun would set. Astor forewent the cloak and heavy platemail in favor of much lighter leather; protective enough to feel comfortable as he was, but easier to move around in than the restrictive spiky armor he usually wore.

Astor only began weaving through the crew in his search for Isabela seconds after he stopped blinking rapidly, squinting eyes shielded from the sun by his raised hand. On the way he greeted the only other familiar face– Cricket, as he recalled– with a nod of his head and careful gesture of two fingers. Half of the orange is still in his hand, conveniently peeled before he left his cabin.

When he does find her, he announced his presence through a cough now that the clink of armor is no longer a tell and his footsteps are much lighter. Astor put an orange slice in his mouth and fished a pouch out of his pocket.

“I’m up. You’re gonna want this,” he extended the pouch and inside was the payment for transportation.

Day one of seven and she’d be lying if she said the gold in her hand didn’t make her feel at least a little bit better about the whole thing. Idly she fingered the bag open and watched the gold glitter in the sun. Reasonably she should count it, but what would be the point? This was Hawke, after all. Astor was a lot of things, but he wouldn’t weasel out of a fee.

With a sigh, Isabela fastens the coin purse to her belt and snags the last piece of orange from Astor’s grip, popping it into her mouth. “Thanks,” she mumbles around the mouthful, casting a quick gaze around the deck. Everyone in their proper places. Only a few sidelong stares. “You didn’t have to pay upfront. Payment at the destination is more customary,” Isabela adds dryly, avoiding his eye. “Feel free to explore, just don’t get in the crew’s way. I’ll see you at supper.” And she’s off, stalking across the deck and snapping at sailors to pick up slack.

The next week is a painful game of cat and mouse. Except Astor and her are cats that hate each other and the crew are the mice getting trod on under foot. Awkward small talk, sharp illusions to past hurts, one near tender moment fishing off the Nevarran shore. Tense as things are it’s... Nice. Their banter is stilted, but familiar. Despite everything, they still move around one another with near perfect synchronicity. She hates that the ship will feel empty without him there.

She’ll get over it, however. She always does. After Varric and Alistair parted from her path, she adjusted. She can do it again.

But as Kirkwall slowly crawls closer, she wonders. Cricket rings the bell and her hands tighten on the wheel before relinquishing control to Brand. She claps her hands sharply together as she drops down the steps to the main deck and barks orders, but really her eyes are searching for Astor. She finds him coming up the steps from below deck and gives him a small, fleeting smile.

“Ready to go home?” Isabela asks, strained. Her tone screams how much she hates this place, how eager she is to be gone again.

[dereliict-blog1]

dragon age aesthetic  (33/?)  →   ISABELA

“sweetness, men are only good for one thing. women are good for six.”

[dereliict-blog1]

‘I’ve had sex’ she said ‘but i don’t know what making love feels like’

milk and honey - rupi kaur (via y0ung-h0m0)

[dereliict-blog1]

I drew your name in the sand And watched the waves wash it away. I wish it would pull my memories of you away too. Drag it off to some foreign beach and let it wash up for someone else to find. But theres no where else for memories to go. Theyre trapped like a letter in a bottle.

A.P (via 3amwritting)

[dereliict-blog1]

Isabela in Dragon Age - Until We Speak

The Silent Grove | Those Who Speak

[dereliict-blog1]

🎒 Insta: @ ohthesun

[dereliict-blog1]

When we try to sweep things under the rug, or pretend they’re not there, it can often make matters worse.

(via deadsensescompany)