#( && visage || thalia )

[heartsbreaking-migrated]

NICO'S BELOVED DEMIGODS (AND TWO TITANS)

mutuals may interact, do not reblog

[archived-diegesis]

Late night stretches

[uncxntrxllable]

[tragedicna]

Ma'am?? Why are you so hot??

[ofyearnings]

name: thalia hoffman. // age: mid 20's. // gender: cis female. // pronouns: she/her. // occupation: professional cheerleader. // romantic: panromantic. // sexual: pansexual. // position: switch. // faceclaim: madison beer.

thalia hoffman, a professional cheerleader, embodies a blend of passion and shrewdness. in the dazzling world of entertainment, she takes her role with utmost seriousness, effortlessly portraying the image of a cheerful and outgoing darling during performances. however, behind the scenes, thalia reveals a different facet of her personality—resolute, resentful, and obstinate. life in the limelight has taught her the importance of navigating the complexities of interpersonal relationships, and she is not one to back down from a challenge.

[pupsmailbox]

DOLL︰PUPPET ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ abbie. adelaide. adorablesse. adorablette. aerlyn. alena. alexis. alice. amaia. amaya. andrea. angeline. ankou. annabelle. annie. antoinette. anxiette. anxious. apricot. asaka. ash. asha. aspen. atticus. ava. avel. babette. babydoll. bambi. bambina. bambino. bashfelle. bashful. beau. bellamy. belle. bells. bernadette. blu. blue. bluesse. bluette. blushe. blushesse. blushette. boo. bram. bronach. bronagh. brone. button. buttons. cadel. candace. carmilla. carrie. catherine. cessair. charlie. charlott. charlotte. chelsea. chia. chica. chirella. chirelle. chiwa. chuckie. claeg. coffin. colere. commedia. constance. coquette. cordelia. corelle. corette. corsette. cypress. dahlia. dalia. damon. darling. dawn. dearesse. dearest. dearette. dearie. deidre. demure. desdemona. devin. devon. doilie. doily. doll. dollaintye. dollawie. dollerie. dollesse. dollette. dolleyed. dollie. dolline. dollita. dolly. dolores. dottie. drea. dread. drusilla. dáinn. eeria. eldritche. elissar. eliza. elle. elodie. eloise. emerence. emily. essie. esther. evangela. evangeline. evelyn. eveyln. faith. frill. frillette. genevieve. genoveva. gia. gladys. glorie. glory. gorey. gorie. gracelyn. gregory. gretta. gwen. gwenivive. haldor. haunt. hiccup. hyde. iraia. iresse. irette. itishree. jabez. janelle. janet. jannet. jinx. josie. julie. juniper. juno. kailey. kanani. kewpie. kiva. krak. lace. lacesse. lacette. lacey. lacie. lain. laintess. lakka. lalki. lavender. lea. lefu. letta. letum. libitina. lilac. lillith. lilly. lily. loaela. lola. lolah. loletta. lolita. lolite. lolla. lottie. lovelace. luci. lucius. lulu. lute. lyla. lys. madison. mahina. mandy. mannie. manon. many. mara. maria. marianette. marie. marion. marionette. marionne. marotte. marrionette. marrow. mary. maryjane. marzana. maveth. meek. melanie. melodie. melody. merripen. miel. minuette. mold. moldie. moldy. molly. moonie. moore. morana. morgana. morgue. mors. mort. mot. muriel. murmur. muse. nadine. nadzen. nancy. nanea. nanelle. nanette. nappi. naz. negan. nekane. nelly. nemesis. nettie. nicodème. niegan. nimbus. nina. nuri. olive. oliver. olivia. omega. panchaali. parner. pinkesse. pinkette. pinkie. pinky. pinocchio. pippin. poe. poppet. poppette. poppy. porce. porcelain. porcelynn. prantika. pulau. punthali. pupetta. puppet. puppetear. puppetesse. puppetette. puppette. puppyte. putala. quinn. ravanche. raven. realiteer. rebel. ribbon. ribbonne. riley. rion. robert. rose. rubella. ruby. sacrifette. salem. sasha. satin. scarlet. sebastian. sew. sewine. shivani. shiver. sidney. smierc. smiley. smilie. softesse. softette. softie. solikha. spirit. sprout. statuette. stitches. strings. sweeheart. sweetheart. sweetie. sweetiebelle. sweetine. sychar. teacup. tearie. teddy. tempest. thalia. than. thana. theodora. thorn. trembelle. trista. ultima. ulysses. vanessa. vera. viola. visage. whisp. whisper. willow. winston. wisp. wispera. wrathes. zizi.

PRONOUNS ⌇ adorable/adorable. ae/aer. angel/angel. anger/anger. antique/antique. app/apparition. bell/bell. berry/berry. berserk/berserk. bjd/bjd. bla/black. blank/blank. bliding/bliding. blue/blue. blush/blush. bug/bug. button/button. cake/cake. car/carcasse. cheer/cheer. cloth/cloth. coffin/coffin. control/control. coo/croon. cor/cor. cor/corrupt. core/core. corpse/corpse. coy/coy. crack/cracked. cracked/cracked. cre/creepy. creep/creepy. cu/curse. cu/cute. curse/curse. cute/cute. da/dark. de4/de4d. de/dear. de/demure. dea/dead. dead/dead. dead/death. dear/dear. death/death. decay/decay. delica/delicate. delicate/delicate. demon/demon. despair/despair. dirt/dirty. do/doll. doll/doll. doll/dolly. dolly/dolly. dread/dread. dress/dressup. dress/up. d♡ll/d♡ll. eer/eeerie. elegant/elegant. en/energy. end/end. evil/evil. eye/eye. fabric/fabric. fae/fae. fi/figure. fig/figure. figurine/figurine. flower/flower. fragile/fragile. frail/frail. friendly/friendly. frill/frill. fury/fury. gho/ghost. glass/glass. glo/gloomy. gore/gore. grave/grave. grief/grief. grim/grimm. grime/grime. gru/grudge. ha/haunt. happy/happy. haun/haunt. hx/hxm. h♡/h♡m. it/it. joint/joint. joint/jointed. joy/joy. ke/ker. kew/kewpie. kill/kill. kor/kor. kor/korrupt. la/lace. lace/lace. lae/lace. lo/love. lo/loved. lolita/lolita. love/love. mad/mad. mae/mae. mari/marionette. marionette/marionette. me/meek. mi/mier. mim/mimic. model/model. morbid/morbid. mu/mutter. mur/murmur. nap/nap. null/null. ny/nym. patch/patch. phan/phantom. pink/pink. pitter/patter. plastic/plastic. play/play. play/playtime. play/time. plush/plush. plush/plushie. por/porcelain. porce/porcelain. porcel/porcelain. porcela/porcelain. porcelain/porcelain. pose/pose. pose/posed. possess/possessed. pup/puppet. puppet/puppet. rea/reality. rest/rest. reven/revenge. rib/ribbon. ribbon/ribbon. rot/rot. scare/scare. scary/scary. seem/seem. sew/sew. sew/sewn. shi/shift. shi/shiver. shx/hxr. sh♡/h♡r. sie/sier. silk/silk. slee/sleep. sleep/sleep. smile/smile. snap/snapped. sneak/sneak. soft/soft. sou/soul. spi/spider. spi/spirit. spo/spook. spook/spook. sta/stalk. sta/stare. statue/statue. sti/string. stitch/stitch. string/string. sweet/heart. sweet/sweet. sweet/sweetdolls sweetie/sweetie. ta/tap. te/teer. tea/teatime. teeth/teeth. thre/thread. thread/thread. thxy/thxm. th♡y/th♡m. ti/timid. to/toy. toy/toy. toy/toytime. trick/trick. un/canny. unca/uncanny. ve/ver. vey/vem. vi/vr. vintage/vintage. vomit/vomit. wan/wander. watch/watch. whi/whisper. white/white. wilt/wilt. wood/wood. wrath/wrath. yarn/yarn. zzz/zzz. ♡/♡. ⚰️ . 🍨 . 🛌 . 🛏️ . 🥀 . 🧸 .

[acronym-chaos]

The Stranger Inspired ID Pack

[PT: The Stranger Inspired ID Pack].

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom, end ID]

Names

[PT: Names].

Abigail, Adeline, Alistair, Ambrose, Anwen, Aveline, Azura, Belinda, Bennett, Calliope, Cassius, Cecil, Damien, Darcy, Delilah, Doll, Doppel, Echo, Eloise, Emory, Evelyn, Facsimile, Falsity, Faux, Faye, Felix, Form, Gideon, Harlequin, Hollow, Idol, Ingrid, Isolde, Jasper, Lenore, Lucius, Manikin, Mannequin, Marionette, Marlowe, Mask, Masque, Mimic, Mirror, Mock, Morgana, Mortimer, Oddity, Oswin, Parody, Peregrine, Puppet, Reflection, Reginald, Replica, Rosalind, Silas, Silhouette, Thaddeus, Thalia, Theodora, Thing, Twine, Vesper, Vivienne

Pronouns

[PT: Pronouns].

Co / Copy / Copies; Do / Doll / Dolls; Doub / Double / Doubles; Echo / Echo / Echoes; Face / Face / Faces; Figur / Figure / Figures; Fo / Form / Forms; Gui / Guise / Guises; Mask / Mask / Masks; Mimi / Mimic / Mimics; Mo / Mock / Mocks; Mo / Model / Models; Puppet / Puppet / Puppets; Ref / Reflect / Reflects; Repli / Replica / Replicas; Sha / Shape / Shapes; Vis / Visage / Visages

Titles

[PT: Titles].

A Harbinger of the Uncanny, A Shapeless Mimic, A Silent Observer, The Echoing Figure, The Facade Weaver, The Faceless Mannequin, The Hollow Form, The Identity Thief, The Mocker Masque, The Mysterious Masquerade, The Odd Entity, The Reflective Stranger, The Replicant, The Unfamiliar Familiar, The Unsettling Presence, [Pronoun] Who Borrows Faces, [Pronoun] Who Conceals Reality, [Pronoun] Who Echoes Humanity, [Pronoun] Who Fashions Facades, [Pronoun] Who Manifests Doubles, [Pronoun] Who Mirrors Souls, [Pronoun] Who Twists Appearances

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom, end ID]

Requested by @yipiiee!

Also tagging: @pronoun-arc @id-pack-archive

[doevademe]

Short prompt: What if Nico was a year older than Percy? When Annabeth, Thalia and Percy went to Westover Hall to look for the Di Angelo siblings and saw Nico checking his Mythomagic cards (even if he's 15 he is still a lovely freak) Percy's first thought was "I want to play with him" and the second was "OMG he is dark and cool" and he got so crushed by teen!Nico. And being the adorable Seaweed Brain idiot he is, the first thing he does is going near Nico and blurts: Hey, I'm Percy. Wanna dance with me? (Remember they were on the school dance) What happens next, I'll let you think~~

Percy was uncomfortable.

But he needed to be here. Grover had found a couple of demigods, siblings, and very powerful. The loud music filled the cheaply decorated gym as he, Annabeth, and Thalia shuffled awkwardly trying to blend in.

Usually, he got expelled before any big balls like homecoming or prom ever took place, and he felt really out of place among the 11-16 year olds just dancing to the music or hanging awkwardly by the punch table.

He really wanted to join that second group, but Grover was panicking, since he only caught sight of the older sibling, a girl that was sipping from her fruit punch and looked like she wanted to run away or go Carrie on the attendees.

"We might find the other one on the dance floor," Annabeth said. Her tone seemed to be hinting at something, but Percy, for the life of him, couldn't think of what.

"You and Grover can do that," Percy said distractedly, then he turned to Thalia, missing his best friend's frown. "Can you stay by the one we found? We don't want two missing demigods."

Thalia looked like she wanted to argue solely because Percy had proposed it, but bit her lip and nodded curtly.

"What about you?" Annabeth asked, looking intensely at him.

"I'll... look by the bleachers," Percy said. Anything to escape this atmosphere.

He ran away before Annabeth could protest, and once he was behind the bleachers almost tripped on a guy wearing tweed sitting on the floor, organizing a deck of cards.

"Is that... Poseidon?"

His father's visage was extremely accurate, as he swung his trident around while atop a chariot pulled by hippocampi.

"One of my favorites," the guy said back. "He gives the best terrain boons if you have the right deck."

Now Percy didn't know what the guy was talking about, but the way his velvety voice said it made his throat dry as if he was tossed in the middle of the desert.

"Oh, cool," was all he could say. The guy looked up and smiled at him. Percy froze. His eyes were dark like an abyss, and his pale complexion almost glowed from the reflection of the gym lights.

"You're also hiding," he stated simply. Percy could only nod. "Me too. My sister is far more social than me. She gave up on making me interact with others long ago."

"Um... I'm Percy, by the way," he said. And because he hadn't proved how lame he truly was yet, he added, "Wanna dance with me?"

The guy looked shocked before looking back at his hand full of cards. With the low lighting it was difficult to tell, but his cheeks may have turned slightly redder.

"Everyone would see..." He said so low it was almost lost to the music. "Do you... maybe want to stay here and... play with me?"

"Okay!" He said stupidly, not even hiding his excitement at sitting close to the guy. "I don't know how to play, though..."

The guy smiled again and beckoned him closer. Percy followed and sat down as if bewitched.

"It's okay, I can teach you," he said kindly, offering him some of the cards. "I'm Nico, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Nico."

Percy didn't know how much time passed as Nico explained the basics of Mythomagic (apparently it used both cards and figurines?), but he was entranced as this cool, older guy taught him how the game worked and a few tricks to the deck he had lent him.

"Okay, I think you're ready," Nico said finally as he set his deck down. "Let's start."

"Peercy!" Grover's familiar bleats interrupted them. Percy was about to look at him in annoyance when he noticed how panicked he looked. "The girl is... oh, you found Nico."

"You were looking for me?" Nico asked, and Percy remembered why he was here. The demigods. Chronos rising, make sure he didn't have more supporters.

"I... I guess I was," he managed to say. Nico looked bemused. "It's a bit of a long story, you see—"

"There's no time!" Grover interrupted again. "Dr Thorn! He... has Annabeth, and Bianca too! Thalia is going after them, but—"

"My sister?" Nico stood up, worried. "What does that creep want with her?"

"We'll explain later," Percy promised.

Despite being worried for Annabeth, a part of him was also excited. He could finally show Nico that he could be cool, too.

"Right now, we have a rescue to go to."

[saulweissberg]

availability / @edwardsthalia setting / happy tails; friday, august 2nd, around five thirty pm.

saul was beginning to have a new appreciation for how thalia must’ve felt when he didn’t return to manhattan after their divorce. with all three ex-wives in town, it was like he couldn’t turn a corner without some reminder of how messy his personal life had been lately. there was never really a time in his life when it wasn’t chaotic, but he never had all three exes within a few minutes of each other before. the island of manhattan might have been thirteen miles long, but it felt like a thousand when it came to keeping his previous spouses separate. blue harbor was much too small and he was feeling suffocated. luckily, he had a trip planned for the next weekend; a quick conference in washington, d.c. and then up to his mother’s home to visit her and attend the country club’s annual end-of-summer celebration for a few days. he needed to prepare, though, and part of the preparation was making sure his cats would be taken care of while he was away. stopping by happy tails to pick up some more cat food, saul turned down an aisle and was, of course, confronted with the visage of his most recent ex-wife.

he was actually trying to take it easy on thalia recently. their relationship had been semi-friendly lately, but with cassie and terry surely to come across her around town, saul tried to keep any situations where their paths might cross to a minimum. he didn’t foresee this, though. grimacing for just a second, he replaced it with an easy smile and reached down to pick up a few cans of fancy feast to put in his shopping basket. “hi, thalia.” saul greeted softly, almost warily. there was a bloom of anxiety within him that she was going to be mad at him for inadvertently bringing her predecessors to town. well, i didn’t exactly ask them to come here, he thought. “i heard your summerween tea party went amazingly—sorry that i missed it, birdie.” saul figured she wouldn’t have wanted him there, anyway. her brother, deacon, certainly would've tossed him out on his ass if he could've.

[duderosiers]

he had known something was wrong the moment it happened - the way he was suddenly overcome with a hunger for blood, so quick to down the reserves in his fridge and reach out to his own walking blood donation centre. jean-claude had text around, asked a few people what the fuck was going on and of course rung thalia. there had been a tug of distress that he shared back, eager to see if his progeny was okay following the events of founders day and the aftermath that followed. what worried him most however was how his hands looked, nails like black claws and his skin...grey, tight to his bones. it was a look associated only with hunger, when blood no longer kept him looking fresh and youthful, no older than 30.

it occurred to him then, that his face may look different yet, holding the phone j.c couldn’t bare to press camera. the visage staring back would be what he truly ought to look like - a monster. the hands began to tremble, and he put it away. no, don’t. don’t look at yourself. 

the dark of night provided a cover, many people inside due to the events that had taken place. still, the vampire did something quite uncharacteristic of himself, putting up the hoodie of his cropped jumper and pulling the strings tight to hide his features. it seemed that he couldn’t run as fast either, so used to zipping to thalia’s place in the blink of an eye when in reality it was a 40 minute quick walk at the most.

coming to a familiar door, the sire pressed the buzzer. “tal? you okay?”

@thalia-stone

[nirikeehan]

HAP FRI NIRI I beg for some Pravinquisition PLEASE, perhaps with ❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜???

HI MER so this one kinda got away from me. It's a continuation of this fill that I posted last week. Enjoy Pravin and Cullen and their bad ideas. And we're both writing about Cullen hitting things tonight, which I love. 😊

As always, Pravin belongs to @monocytogenes

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 2903

CW: Violence, blood, some light torture

---

Cullen squinted at his reflection in the looking glass. The dark circles under his eyes he had long since considered a permanent feature, much like the vertical scar above his lip. Although he deemed his hair presentable, he’d once again lacked time for a proper shave. The stubble clung to his jaw and chin, giving him a vaguely disheveled visage. And the collar of this infernal uniform was still too tight. He watched himself tug at it, once, twice to no avail, the ire growing on his face. 

Sighing, he looked down at the notecards in his hand, scrawled with the shorthand for tonight’s speech. He’d memorized Varric’s words a week earlier and had been practicing them ever since, but still feared he’d take a singular glance at the crowd of sycophants tonight and forget every one. 

The knock was a welcome distraction. “Come,” Cullen called, straightening. The heavy wooden door to his room at the Gull and Lantern slid open, and in slipped Fidencio Frye — no, scratch that. His name was Pravin Talavera, and in one of many strange twists in Cullen’s life as of late, the Antivan was actually the Inquisitor’s third cousin. 

Or was it fourth? Tracing noble bloodlines gave Cullen a headache. 

He did not fully understand why Pravin and Thalia had decided to keep this fact a secret for months. However, given Pravin’s line of work, Cullen could not begrudge him the desire for anonymity. He had proven a reliable advisor, tempering Leliana’s more… straightforward approach. Whatever Pravin’s true identity, Cullen considered him a friend. (Which was more than could be said for some who still served the Inquisition despite inconvenient identity reveals.) 

“Have you come for a last minute rehearsal?” Cullen asked. The damn speech had been Pravin’s idea, and the bard had spent much of the previous week coaxing a passible delivery from Cullen’s lips. “I hate to tell you, but unless Corypheus crashes the party tonight and I need to rally the troops, this is as good as it’s getting.” 

The joke fell uncharacteristically flat. Pravin seemed distracted, a frown etched below his waxed mustache. He ran fingers through the pointed chin hair, lost in thought. “A situation has arisen.” 

“What is it?” Cullen asked, dropping all pretense. His gaze darted to the nearby bureau, on top of which he’d put his scabbard and sword. In truth, he was almost relieved.

Pravin looked at Cullen from under the brim of his hat, his green eyes glittering in the shadow cast upon his face. “How much do you know about Thalia’s tattoo?” 

Cullen blinked, surprised by the non sequitur. “I… very little. She doesn’t like speaking of it. It’s something related to her time at the Circle, I understand.” 

When Cullen met Thalia, he’d assumed the face tattoo to be a statement piece, much like that of his friend Rylen. Something en vogue across the Free Marches, perhaps. When Thalia told him it had been mandatory for all Ostwick Circle mages to get, Cullen had been taken aback. The Gallows had had more than its fair share of institutional troubles, but at no point had any Kirkwall Templar suggested they permanently mar the faces of all their charges. 

He had never succeeded in learning more about the practice. Not even recently, when he’d felt compelled to kiss every inch of the ornate design across her face. He’d stopped when he tasted the salt of her tears, horrified. Cullen sensed that he had tapped into a deep well of pain — a phenomenon all too familiar to him. She hadn’t wanted to talk, and he hadn’t wanted to push. 

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Why?”

Pravin paced the room with a strange, frenetic energy. “Evidently, at some point before her time at the tower in Ostwick, some Templar came up with the brilliant idea that face tattoos could act as a backup security measure to mage phylacteries. I’m certain you know more about this than I do, Commander, but this Templar was not satisfied with the idea, thinking that such things could be lost or broken. He also fancied himself something of an artist. He devised the design himself. By the time she came to the Circle, he’d had many years to perfect it.” 

Cullen felt nauseous. He braced himself against the stone wall. “Thalia told you all this?” 

Pravin nodded. “I assume,” he said, voice soft, “this was not standard protocol among the Templars?” 

“Maker, no.” Cullen shook his head vehemently. “The phylacteries were always considered the least invasive way of making sure every mage was accounted for.”

“That’s what I thought.” Pravin took a slow breath. “It’s very painful, I’ve been told. Tattooing that close to the bone. And takes hours, for work that intricate.” 

Cullen felt a deep, seething rage rise within him. Such anger hit him sometimes, red-hot and mean, with a potency that scared him. “Pravin, what’s going on?” 

“It seems,” his friend said carefully, enunciating each word as if he were on stage, “the man responsible, someone named Algernon, is present in Redcliffe tonight. He must have left Ostwick to join the Mage-Templar war, and is how skulking about the Hinterlands, not having the grace to die when he had the chance.” 

“He’s here,” Cullen said, stunned. “Right now?” 

“Indeed. And had the absolute gall to approach Thalia this evening, when she was taking petitioners. I chased him off before he could try anything, but she’s pretty shaken up about it.” Pravin grinned tightly. “A couple of your soldiers need a reprimand, by the way. They stood right by and let it happen.” 

“Andraste have mercy.” Cullen leaned against the window frame, glaring out into the night, as if he could catch a glimpse of the knave by sheer chance. The soldiers he could discipline later. “So he could be plotting to return as we speak.” 

Pravin’s mouth twitched. “You always get right to the heart of an issue, Commander. I like that about you.”

Cullen paused. In the window glass he saw his reflection — jaw set at a sharp angle, eyes narrowed. He barely recognized himself, although he knew he must look like this often, when about to give an order with lethal consequences. “Are you proposing we do something to cut off his plans?” 

“He can’t have gone far, and Redcliffe’s not that big.” Pravin gave a casual shrug. “I have a few contacts among the refugees I could ask. Probably won’t take long to find him.” 

Cullen looked up, meeting Pravin’s eyes. “And what exactly are you proposing we do about it? The Inquisition has limited jurisdiction for law and order here. All that falls to Arl Teagan.” 

Pravin waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Oh, I don’t think Arl Teagan need get involved. Or anyone else, for that matter.”  

Cullen leaned his back against the wall, crossing arms over his chest. “So you are suggesting vigilante justice.”

Pravin narrowed his eyes. “That’s a strong term for it.”

“But an accurate one,” Cullen countered. “If the Inquisition’s Commander and one of its most trusted advisors are caught sneaking about the slums of Redcliffe on some petty quest for revenge—”

“If we’re caught. I have no intention of letting that happen.” Pravin sighed. “Think about it, Commander. Think of how much damage this man has caused, under the banners of a corrupt Order. Think of how it must have felt for Thalia.” 

The fury crept up Cullen’s throat, coiled and waiting to strike. He thought of all the complaints that crossed his desk in Kirkwall, the official accusations and the anonymous rumors alike, how they were often appalling to even behold. And all the times he brought them up to Meredith, only to have them dismissed, the papers cast aside, forgotten. It’s not your job to advocate for these unfortunates, Cullen, she told him, more than once.   

Then what is it? he’d snapped at her, finally, near the end. 

Her blue eyes had never seemed colder. To keep them where they are. 

“This man.” Cullen’s voice was raw. He felt an abrupt, maddening desire for a hit of lyrium. “This — Algernon, you said his name was?”

Pravin nodded. 

Cullen thought of Ser Alrik, the spate of Tranquil mages, the stack of complaints sitting untouched on Meredith’s desk. He ignored the tremor in his hands. “Did Thalia say whether he… did anything else to her?”

A knowing silence passed between them. Pravin’s face hardened into a mask to rival that of Orlesian nobility. “No,” he said softly. “But she was fourteen years old, and he apparently ‘really seemed to enjoy himself.’”

Cullen closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. He felt, rather than heard, a roaring in his ears. He strode to the bureau and grabbed his scabbard, pretending not to see the azure haze at the edges of his vision. “Let’s go pay this Algernon a visit.” 

Slowly, painfully, Pravin smiled. 

---

The row of rotting cottages along the Redcliffe docks was notorious for housing degenerates. So went the wisdom of Pravin’s contacts, who eagerly accepted his sovereigns in exchange for the information. If someone like Algernon was to be found, it would be there. 

Two cloaked figures kept to the torch-lit shadows, the shorter and slighter leading the way. Cullen felt as though his heart might burst out of his chest following behind Pravin. 

The first two houses were abandoned, containing only damp barrels and the scent of fish. The third gave shelter to a handful of former Templars. They sat on the grimy floor on their bedrolls, passing around contraband lyrium bottles. None answered to Algernon and no one claimed to know him. Cullen was grateful for the hood on his cloak, and that Pravin had insisted they both change into more discreet clothing. He stared at the sunken faces and haunted eyes, and did not want them to know that he felt the pull of the cerulean song as strongly as they did. 

The fourth house had a collapsed roof and no way to get inside. The fifth possessed a window that glowed dimly with the light of a lantern. When Pravin knocked and called the man’s name, the door opened. 

He was raggedy, taller than them both, thin and spindly like a scarecrow. Limp hair sat on either side of his temples, and his eyes were a dull, washed-out blue. “Can I help you gentlemen?” 

Pravin kept his head bowed in darkness, but Cullen found it impossible not to look the man square in the face. He pictured his spidery hands on Thalia, holding her down to be restrained, imagined his grotesque face leering close to hers, delighting in causing her pain. 

“Are you Algernon, formerly of the Ostwick Circle?” Cullen demanded. 

The man’s beady eyes darted from Cullen to Pravin and back, his grip tightening on the doorframe. “Who’s asking?” 

Cullen turned to Pravin, catching his friend’s one green eye visible under the shadow his hood. He nodded, almost imperceptibly. Cullen surged forward, catching the door before Algernon could slam it in his face. With a hard kick, he sent it flying open, nearly breaking off its hinges, and Algernon backed away with a yelp. 

“Please, sers, I don’t know what this is about,” Algernon groveled as Cullen and Pravin stormed the premises, “but I don’t want any trouble.” 

“You chased trouble yourself tonight when you approached the Inquisitor,” Cullen growled. 

Algernon’s eyes widened. “That? I was just being friendly, I swear! I wanted to see an old— friend, let’s call it.” 

“That runs rather contrary to what we’ve been told.” Pravin spoke for the first time — a soft, menacing tone that rivaled the near shout Cullen had achieved. He closed the door to the one-room hut, dragging a stray barrel in front of the entrance. 

“You.” Algernon pointed at Pravin with a trembling finger. “You were there. Her… cousin. Listen, whatever she said to you, y-you mustn’t trust it. Mages have such a loose relationship with the truth—”

Cullen balled his hand into a fist and struck Algernon in the face. The blow caught him by surprise; he gave a yelp as he lost his balance and fell to the earthen floor. Cullen stood over him, knuckles stinging, chest heaving. He felt rage and disgust and exhilaration all at once. 

“Nice shot,” Pravin deadpanned, stepping beside Cullen. “Shall I get him up for you?”

Cullen nodded.

“Wait, wait please! Whatever it is you want, I’ll do it. I’ll— I’ll apologize to the little miss, I’ll—” 

Algernon shrieked as Pravin bent down and grabbed him by the back of his loose linen tunic. As Pravin hauled him to his feet, he tried to twist away, and Cullen saw just how emaciated he was. The life of a former Templar refugee was not kind.  

“That ‘little miss’ is the Herald of Andraste, and the leader of the Inquisition,” Cullen said, while Pravin forced the man’s arms behind his back. His jaw was already beginning to swell, and fear danced in his pale eyes. Cullen’s voice dropped to near a whisper. “And you hurt her.” 

“Please, you have to understand, it was for the good of the Circle! For her and everyone,” Algernon pleaded. “I was just doing my job.”

Cullen shook his head, flexing his hand and aiming another jab, this time at Algernon’s mid-section. The air escaped his lungs in a choked gasp. 

“You weren’t,” Cullen said. “I know exactly what duties are in the Templar job description, and disfiguring the faces of children isn’t one of them.” 

Algernon slumped forward, coughing and sputtering. “I-I’m an artist,” he rasped. “I— I only— wanted to practice my art…”

Recoiling, Cullen hit again, two sharp jabs in the jaw. The man gurgled and heaved, spitting out saliva mixed with blood and white bits that might be teeth at Cullen’s feet.

Cullen leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. The knuckles on one hand had split, and the other tingled with pain. Yet he wanted to lunge forward, punch Algernon again, and again…

“Did I hear right?” Pravin asked, calm. “Did he just call himself an artist?”

“He did.” Cullen felt ill. 

Pravin shoved Algernon in his direction. “Hold him for me, will you?”

Algernon stumbled, head lolling. Cullen caught him, seizing him by the elbows, a technique born of habit of subduing apostates. 

“Not like that,” Pravin said, pulling down his hood. His mussed black hair shone in the dull lantern light. “You’ll want to hold him very, very still.” 

Cullen frowned, the primal elation quieting as he took in Pravin’s unsettling serenity. He advanced on Algernon, hand slipping under the hem of his doublet and returning to his side. The motion was so subtle Cullen didn’t see what he held until the blade glinted orange. 

“Whoa, hang on,” Cullen said as Pravin raised the long stiletto. “This isn’t what we agreed upon.”

Algernon saw the knife and began to struggle anew; Cullen had to grab his torso to keep him from escaping. Algernon let out a scream. “Help! Help, they’re going to kill me!”

“Shhh,” Pravin murmured. He glided closer and held the point of the stiletto under Algernon’s chin. “I’d think very carefully about your next movements, if I were you.” 

Algernon fell into terrified silence. “Pravin,” Cullen insisted. The thrill of exacting revenge was rapidly wearing off, replaced by a growing alarm that perhaps the two of them had come here with different agendas. “Summary execution is not—”

“Oh, do relax,” Pravin chided. “I’m not intending to kill him. Merely give him a memento he’ll never forget… just like Thalia.” 

Pravin grabbed Algernon roughly by the shoulder and kneed him in the groin. He cried out in pain and fell limp; Cullen staggered and dropped him. He backed away, grasping the wall for support. Pravin fell on top of Algernon, who lie face down on the floor. Straddling Algernon’s back, Pravin asked, “Is this how you did it? Is this how you held her down?”

Algernon was weeping openly. “No, no, please…”

“Pravin,” Cullen warned, but stayed still as if transfixed.

Pravin grabbed a clump of Algernon’s hair and lifted his head. “This man calls himself an artist, but it’s clear he’s never suffered for his art.” With his opposite hand, Pravin pressed the stiletto tip to the man’s cheek. “Let’s see how close I can get the design to Thalia’s, shall we? I suggest you lie still if you want to keep your eye.” 

Algernon began to scream. Cullen felt light-headed and strange, clapping his hands over his ears. He knew he could stride closer, insist Pravin cease, knew he should. He sank to his knees instead, finding it difficult to breathe. 

The door burst open then, the barrel rolling impotently out of the way. Standing there was Cassandra, looking aghast. “Commander?” she demanded in concern, locking eyes with him first. Then, aghast, her gaze fell to Pravin and his victim. “Fidencio!” she cried, drawing her sword. “Get away from him at once!” 

Pravin pulled back, getting to his feet. Algernon stayed face down on the ground, sobbing and retching, his face a patchwork of red. Much of it had splattered on the front of Pravin’s clothes and cloak. “How did you find us?” he asked evenly. 

“Never mind that,” Cassandra snapped in disgust. “Why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood?”

[luxcruor]

🔪   //   put  a  knife  to  my  muse’s  throat . ( thalia and sam LESSS GOOO )

↪  𝑨𝑮𝑮𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵 / ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀꜱ. [ @pazuzud . ]

a "normal" human being would tremble, sweat and hold themselves carefully when a blade is mere inches from their neck. alas, this was their unlucky day as thalia's mouth curls into a smirk. SHE IS NOT NORMAL. electric blue eyes glisten playfully down the length of the blade, the threat of a fight making her stomach bubble. a mixture of rising amusement and WRATH behind her voice she speaks.

" dude, chillax. " thalia checks her footing keeping her shoulder behind the other's arm. multiple moves play out in her head as her ego begins to drive. a demigod , a near indestructible being with a weakness most human. the air around them begins to cool a revoltingly clean smell of ozone gathering in the room and her glare is at it's peak, a million volts strong. the shadows dancing suddenly frantic across the walls carving out the scars over her battle hardened visage. as the god inside of her begins to roar. WHO DOES THIS HUMAN THINK THEY ARE? thalia wasn't her father though, she'd give this girl a WARNING. ( gods did she NEED it )

" besides, back at my summer camp i was WRESTLING CHAMP, four years in a row. 'you reaally wanna see how that goes ?? "

[uncxntrxllable]

[tragedicna]

i hate how pretty she is . . . no , i don't actually .

[random-cafe]

2024.02.22

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[saulweissberg-archive]

so, what was the reason why saul hadn’t left providence peak? he had given many different people many different answers. he complained often about the city, the whole state of colorado, the nature, friendly locals, and fresh air (when it didn’t stink like weed), to the point that others often wondered why the fuck he stayed, especially if he was going to be such an asshole about it. once again, it all came down to winning. saul had tenacity in droves. he was a deeply stubborn man, and while he missed manhattan and resented the distance it put between him and his son (though he never saw micah enough even when they lived in the same city), he had spent close to a million buying a home and leasing an office downtown. he put a lot of money down in providence peak. moving away felt like giving up. moving away would be a loss.

on the topic of losses… he wasn’t ignorant of her pain. indeed, he might’ve been the only person in the city (besides kathleen, he shuddered to think) that knew her stony face was a well-worn mask. her mouth wouldn’t twitch, but there was such misery in her striking eyes. he was the cause of it, too. he was always the cause of everyone’s pain. “hm, yes, i should’ve assumed that.” she probably put more thought and research into her choice as well; saul just called up a college in denver and requested they send their best player, he didn’t care how much money it would take to sponsor him. there was a competitive spirit within him, and yeah, maybe once he realized that they separately had the same idea, he felt a growing, desperate need to win.

face-to-face with thalia now, he didn’t care about the outcome of the game as long as he could get out of this confrontation unscathed. it was easier to hide from her pain filled eyes than look into them directly. not when he could see his reflection in her pupils and see his own avoidant visage shining back at him. “oh god, don’t remind me. did she tell you how she threw a grape at me a few months ago in frontier’s? i don’t have any proof but i saw her rushing down the aisle right after it hit me in the back of the neck.” he knew better than to talk badly about her sister in front of her, but it wasn’t exactly an outlandish conspiracy. kathleen made no secret of how much she hated saul, pretty much from the moment they met. (he suspected it had something to do with their age gap. he hoped kathleen would never find out how much younger sara was than him—she might actually kill him.)

well, thalia could use the win, he reasoned. “of course.” saul proffered the water bottle he had bought for himself moments ago. fuck it, he could just spend the rest of the day thirsty. what he really wanted was a glass of wine, but it was probably too early in the afternoon. “okay, sounds like a plan.” saul put a hesitating hand on her bicep, gently leading her towards the nearest tree. he didn’t want to touch her, fearing her reaction, but he knew better than to trust her to walk over by herself without stumbling again. that was the problem. he still knew her so well. would he ever be able to forget her? did he actually want to? “i’m fine. i’ve been getting out a lot more this week, enjoying the nice weather.” damn, had they really been regulated to mindless small talk? he wondered if they’d ever be able to have a normal conversation. maybe not the kind they used to have, making each other laugh over wine or exchanging pillowtalk in fancy hotel rooms, but just one fucking time, he’d like to be able to speak to his ex-wife without feeling like such an awkward asshole. “how about you? have you been having fun this week? i saw some facebook post about your morning yoga classes.”

The beginning was fun, it was always fun. There was finally someone to go with her to the many events required of a New York socialite. He understood her like few before him and she was swept away. Thalia had many acquaintances and a few friends but other than Kathleen, she was content with solitude. The problem was when Saul became her whole world. He was the person she wanted to tell about her day, who she wanted to go on adventures with. Every time she made him laugh, the world got brighter. It was a horrible feeling to feel it all go away. If only he would go back to New York and let her get on with her life. Two years, why wouldn't he just leave?

"You should have known I would pick the superior player." Thalia swayed just slightly when he let go. The gravity in the world shifted again. "Careful, Kath will think you tripped me on purpose." Invoking her sister's name was mostly for her own amusement. Saul was one of the more dramatic people she knew and his reactions and pettiness was one of the first things that hooked her. Thalia was never able to shift away from her defensive neutrality. His openness, and even the ridiculous habit of gossiping, made him seem so alive. He made her feel alive.

Thalia hesitated then nodded. "Water would help, please." And likely eating something. Her habit of forgetting to eat was always problematic. When she was with Saul, his love of food transferred to her. Instead of just consuming the required amount of sustenance, food became something she savored. "I was planning on finding shade for a few minutes." She wanted to leave and never see him again equally as much as she wanted to embrace him and have someone take care of her again. It was the worst feeling. "How are you doing?" Thalia asked after taking a sip of his water. Not their water. There wasn't a they. The reminder was cruel but necessary.