#Soriden

[strawberry-soil]

Hazel Soriden (Aph)

Template made by Epel and edited a tad to add a few things by Me. Also, art is by @emiboi33​​ (this is also mentioned later in the post).

◈═════════════════◈

"Loralie, show him around.”

═══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Basic Information

═════ • ❖ • ═════

Name: Hazel Maria Soriden

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Date Of Birth: November 29th 

Profession:

Age: 21?

Species: Half-Human, Half-Witch 

Hobbies:

Zodiac: Sagittarius 

Personality: 

Flaws: Anger issues, going overboard

Phobias: None

Love Interest: Erin

◈═════════════════◈

"Kill them."

══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Looks

═════ • ❖ • ═════

Hair Length: Half way down back

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Dark blue

Height: 5'6 ft

Weight: 143 lbs

Tattoos: None

Bandages: On left arm and feet

Scars: Probably where her pinkie is missing

◈════════════════◈

"You are a cat boy or rather.. what is it called.. a Meif'wa after all, the name fits."

══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Techniques/Info

═════ • ❖ • ═════

Stamina:

7/10

Jumping:

5/10

Strength:

7/10

Wisdom:

1/10

Charisma:

3/10

Wealth:

2/10

Intelligence:

6/10

◈═════════════════◈

"Ein, don't lie to me.”

══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Clothing

═════ • ❖ • ═════

Normal Clothing: Black tank top, gray pants, black fingerless gloves, and an orangy brown cloak

Formal Clothing: None, hasn't needed one

Pajamas: Black tank top and gray pajama pants

◈═════════════════◈

“Quote”

══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Health

═════ • ❖ • ═════ 

Sickness:

Disorder:

Cancer: None 

Diseases: 

Weakness:

Allergies: Dust

Asthma: None

Disability: Not sure if this counts but she's missing her pinkie finger on her right hand 

Fears: 

Addiction:

◈═════════════════◈

“Quote”

══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Personality aspects

═════ • ❖ • ═════ 

Normal Moods: 

Patient/Impatient:

Anger Management?: Yes

Three good things about personality: 

° 

° 

° 

Three bad things of personality: 

° 

° 

°

◈═════════════════◈

“Quote”

═══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Relationships

═════ • ❖ • ═════

Mother: ??? {Dead}

Father: ??? {Dead}

Sister: None

Brother: ??? {Dead}

◈═════════════════◈

“Quote”

═══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Extra

═════ • ❖ • ═════ 

Backstory: 

Home: (In the process of naming) 

Dislikes: Residents of Nalitini, alcohol

Likes: Violence, being outside, power, putting other people through challenges

Voice Claim: Cherami Leigh

Theme Song: [Discord (The Living Tombstone)|https://youtu.be/tOkdSj8Iz0I]

◈═════════════════◈

“Quote”

══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Art Credits

═════ • ❖ • ═════ 

@emiboi33​

◈═════════════════◈

“Quote”

══════════════════

[mommydragon-of-all]

Mirage 

Soren drifted on a shapeless sea, dizzying and swirling, waves thrumming in his ears, pushing and pulling, burying his limbs into a thick mud. 

Tension leaked from his body, washed away bit by bit. Why was he struggling anyways? Against what? He couldn't remember. Everything was so hazy. He was tired. He could just sleep instead. Everything was so dark and blurry, it was pointless to keep his eyes open, wasn't it? He sighed, a small puff of shallow breath, followed by a sting somewhere, but it was dull like everything else. Another wave, thick lashes fluttering shut. 

Drip. He twitched. 

Drip. An irritating spark in the dark.  Something hit his face, his nose. Something cold and prickling, poking his numbed nerves. 

Drip. 

He opened an eye, squinting, the small spasms waking a bit of light. Something flashed before him, something bright and fuzzy. That color.... There it was again, moving in front of him. A mop of sunshine, bringing forward a distant memory, a soft tingle, a ghost scent, a fleeting warmth on his pale skin, the shape of a mouth, smiling softly, a whisper, a soft laughter dancing like an echo in his ringing ears. Hadiden.  The name burst out from under the fog like a sharp blade, piercing a veil. He gasped and blinked, trying to clear his vision, wake his mind. What was happening? He hurt, badly, he was tired and the fog was still thick in his head, trying to suffocate every coherent thought. Focus. Fight. Yes… he had been fighting. What happened? Where was he now?

~Keep reading~

Another drip, another spark, the blur of sunny softness cleared before him, edges sharpening - but it was still fuzzy. It took Soren’s drowning brain a second to figure out it wasn't so much because of his vision, for the shape wasn't clean cut. He shifted his cloudy eyes around a bit. There were more of them in front of him. They were small, he figured, as the wind picked at them again, moving the one closest to his face to the side, shaking more droplets of cold water onto his face from it. 

They were above him, he realized. 

It was hard to concentrate, his mind woken a bit but everything was shifting in and out of focus. He looked up at the sunny tuft, seeing messy locks of hair, blue gems gleaming from under it. Hadiden. Focus. Fight....there was a fight. Was Hadiden safe? No, he wasn't there, he must be safe. Soren felt his tendons relax, numbness crawling back up over him. His Sun was safe. He could rest... 

Drip. 

Another gust of wind, another icy droplet on his face. His eyes jumped open. When did they fell closed? The yellow ball of fluff dripped old rainwater on his face. Crying over him.

Was Hadiden crying? Why would he? Was it Soren’s fault? If he stayed here, resting, if he didn’t go back... Didn't make it back... His mind kicked into struggling with new power to stir awake. He was dying wasn't he? And Hadiden would cry. That was the first protest to surface in his drowning mind. He couldn't let that happen. 

He could see Hadiden falling for another man, smiling at him, being happy. Perhaps someone gentle, kind, caring. Silly even. Someone who would make him laugh. Feel safe. Understood. Make him worry less. Someone better. A bittersweet resignation sneaked up over him like a blanket. He could see it now, two figures forming in the fog. He saw Hadiden look up at someone, smiling soft, heard him whisper: “Vhenan”.... And the hazy figure turned into a mirror of himself at that word, like a spell blowing away smoke. It was him, Soren, who Hadiden called Vhenan. It was him who the other elf chose for this life. It was a word reserved for a partner for life. That’s how dalish generally worked, and the blond was very dalish. He wouldn't toss that word around without meaning it, Soren knew it. He knew but it was so very hard to think. He had to do better. Vhenan. His Vhenan... He suffered enough. He deserved better. Better than loosing his chosen one, who he allowed himself to bond with, who he found happiness with, the man who’s helping hand and loving heart he accepted. Fuck. Soren needed to get his miserable ass back to him alive.

‘Hadiden. I’m coming home to you, as I promised. I did promise, didn't i?’ He watched a droplet slide down the stem of the fluffy yellow flower. He gritted his teeth, eyes sharpening. 

‘I wont make you cry. I wont.’

His heart made a strong kick, prickling warmth flooding his chest, tingling down his limbs. His fingers twitched. 

Potion. Yes. He needed more healing and more stimulants than what his own body could dose him with, enhanced or not, if he wanted to get anywhere. Moving his hand by pure willpower, he grabbed at his belt, fingers lacking their usual dexterity greatly, tapping around clumsily, but they eventually found the pouch of copper vials. He couldn't feel much with them, barely registered the sting of metal shards piercing his fingers. 

Damn. 

He hit that tree pretty damn hard, without being able to angle his body right, he recalled. His ribs and hip throbbed in confirmation. So much for the extras. Good thing he kept the really crucial things in sturdier little flasks, even if they were heavier. Hehh, and people wondered why he didn't use glass vials. Right. For someone who jumped right into the thick of every fight to tear the enemy apart. Finally he found what he was searching for. It shouldn't have taken this long. Damn he really needed it. 

Lifting it to his lips he opened it with his teeth, gulping down its contents, coughing and wheezing from the straying bits caused by his position on his back. It burned down his throat with hot energy, waking his body like alcohol ignited a smoldering furnace. He shot up, gulping in air, lungs burning. The pain hit him like a mad bull, waking nerves screaming at him from all over, frantic damage reports that made him dizzy with white hot lights. Coughing, holding on tight to a handful of the surrounding flowers by the roots, he frantically searched for other vials with shaking hands. He was now close to blacking out again from the pain, but with his thoughts much clearer. 

He found the other flasks much quicker now, downing them one by one, a stimulant numbing the pain but sharpening the right edges, the other kicking off rapid healing, then another dose of energy, a bit of concentrated blood, a sip of lyrium in it to stimulate the systems altered by touch of magic, to respond better. His improved body was fast to react, an advanced machine shaped for superior function, at attention from the brush of magic to receive commands, kicking into gear.

 His mind was suddenly painfully clear, sharp as broken glass. There will be drawbacks, but hopefully by then he will have the luxury of crumbling down and live to wake. He had to get out of here and go back, but he knew he couldn't just up and run. With his fast healing body now boosted to hell and back, the first thing he had to do was damage control. He patted himself down, roughly, looking for any sort of injury that wasn't supposed to heal left that way. Like the hard nudge in his side. A broken spike, thick as his wrist. He pulled it out swiftly, crying out in pain. The wound was already drawing in on itself. There were other bits and pieces of metal scattered all over, spikes, tree broken arrows, shards. The last things he had to tear out were already closed in. The smaller shards in his arms and hands mostly he left inside for now. Those wouldn't kill him as he moved.

He must have hit his head pretty damn hard if he was about to just give in, even for a dazed moment, to death. “Hah! Not today Fade, not today!” he rasped, his mad grin pulling at some wounds and making fresh drops of blood slide down his chin.

A quick patch work and he got to his feet, ragged an thorn and looking like he should be dead under a leather armor ripped to shreds like that, metal plating thorn out from between the hard leather, huge chunks of equipment missing, bigger wounds still bleeding under quick binds of ripped cloth, his own mixing with the thick cover of his enemies blood, but his eyes were sharp and glowing, determined. He was heavily overstimulated and overdosed, but he needed the push. He needed to get back, to get past a point in healing that he would survive the after effects, he needed to make it. And he was going to. He plucked one of the yellow fluffy flowers, and set on his mission of survival and return, clutching it tightly.

[hadiden-lavellan]

“I’m not leaving.”

“It wasn’t an offer, Soren,” Hadiden said, squaring his shoulders back and lifting his chin. If he had to claim the role as Herald, he was going to do so and make sure that everyone else was safe. He had caused this mess, had caused Haven to be attacked. He wasn’t going to let innocents die.Outside the Haven Chantry, the sounds of marching and a dragon overhead rang out. It was loud, loud enough that even the stone walls of the building couldn’t hide the fate that awaited the elf. He was going to have to lead the front, stand his ground, and make a distraction to allow people to escape. It was his job, his duty, Hadiden thought. He wasn’t one for karma, not like those he knew back home, but he would have to pay a price for the Conclave. If this was the price the Creators wanted, it was what he would pay. “I am not offering you to go, I am telling you,” he demanded. “You are leaving Haven and that is final.”The blond turned on his heels, walking away from the redhead and so many emotions. His time in Haven, the nights drinking with Soren, Wicked Grace and running a muck in the snow had been heaven. He was able to relax, to feel some sense of home as he dealt with humans and the Breach. It reminded him that not all things were bad, but he couldn’t allow for that ounce of sunshine to die. He wasn’t going to allow for Soren to be buried under the snow with him, facing down certain death because he wanted to be by Hadiden’s side. Hadiden, whether he lived or died, would not be able to carry that burden with him. This was his punishment, his price. It was his deed to equal out the world again. “Commander,” Hadiden said, walking towards Cullen. “Take the rest of Haven, follow where the Chancellor leads. And by the Creators, make sure Soren leaves.” There was a pause as the blond glanced back at the other man. “I will not have innocents die here tonight if I have any say.”

[evakaname]

OMG WHY DIDNT ANY1 TELL ME THERES DRAGON NEST 2 MOVIE dear spirits this is so much more amazing than the first one and that one had the coolest dragon ever. Now we get a love story starting from in love since years? YES PLEASE more of those! They are so cute omg. The emotional roller coaster of this one!!!!!!!!!!!!

also @hadiden-lavellan those green Soren eyes omg is she Soriden love child?

shes SUCH a Soriden lovechild i swear XD

[blazeraptor]

MMD Boogie Bam Dance from Blaze Raptor on Vimeo.

Credits

Models:

Fossilkat, Botafly and Oceana from Medabots Infinity for the Gamecube Publishers: Natsume, Imagineer, Ubisoft

Ripped by Senjen of Models Resource Converted and Rigged by Blaze Raptor - ux.getuploader.com/blazeraptor/

To match the scale, the bone set and hands were borrowed from Metabee by soriden - soriden.exblog.jp/11158681/

Song, Motion and Camera:

Wav, Motion and Camera - Boogie Bam Jam by Mijumaru Miju - youtube.com/watch?v=HCncHmcbbCg

Stage:

Simple box stage by Tamapiyo - seiga.nicovideo.jp/seiga/im5706049

[mommydragon-of-all]

Answering this from @hadiden-lavellan

Soren's brows furrowed in indignation at the words, and as Hadiden turned from Cullen he was already in mid step to follow him, grab him maybe, turn him around, make him see reason.

"Oh thats high," he threw ahead, "I wasnt even born innocent." But his momentum was haltered by a strong arm, and his burning gaze jumped to the commander in his way, pissed and incredulous about the whole scenario.

It was one thing that the blond elf believed Soren truly under his command, he was playing the inquisitions puppet decently enough in order to stay around in the middle of this new mess, but for people to believe they actually could stand in Sorens way, make him oppose the drive of his heart, that was ridiculous. He may have indulged it with an amused smirk, staying in his supposed role momentarily and going around it right after, had he not been so worked up. But he was pushed past play pretend by a protesting fire stirring in him like a waking dragon. 

Soren may have started to develop a bit of an itch to do as it pleased Hadiden, but he answered to no man, and his need to protect the dummy grew bigger by the day. Even if he had to face the mans fury for it, he was NOT leaving this idiotic martyr wanna be to his fate. The idea was noble and admirable, but the execution looked like giving up, and Soren loathed it. Here he was after all, taking this mad dive while throwing away one of his greatest weapons, a fine piece of blood magic work. Not that he was quite aware of Sorens countless enhancements, but still, he sure had a glimpse by now of just how efficient a beast of destruction he could be. Besides, he was no man to run *from* trouble, and much less so a man to leave people he cared about behind in mortal danger. The idea of leaving Hadiden behind so ignited a sinking feeling in his stomach. He didnt like it. He didnt like it at all.

He shoved away the restricting arm and started towards Hadidens turned back again, eyes gloving with defiance and determination.

"The only way-..." he was interrupted by iron grips halting his steps, from both sides now, along with some words that flew by his ears, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance. He had no patience now to pay this chain of command game.

An irritated tic to his pointy nose and he was done playing roles, done fitting in, done with these pathetic shackles latching on him. The two man were clutching his arms, legs wide and bodies stiff as they held their position restraining Soren. Or so they believed.

With his arms “held down” in their grasps he grabbed the two man by their belts and lifted them both, tossing them back with a casual ease one might shrug small monkeys off with, not grown man in full heavy armor. The momentum had them both slipping off his arms and stumble back several steps after they touched the ground again, the commander finding his footing first and steadying the other man. Soren didnt mean harm, he just flicked them off like the annoying little pests they were being at the moment, but that nonchalant effortlessness widened the mans -and onlookers- eyes even more.

Soren paying no mind to anyone but the other elf ahead of him, continued.

"The only way im leaving Haven is towards that incoming mayhem. Why not just let me loose on it, for fucks sake? Im the Master of mayhem!"

He noticed Hadidens back stiffening, as if he braced himself to say or do something perhaps, 'most likely to continue being stubborn', Soren thought with a huff.

"You know what? File your complaints after we’re done with this." Whatever the proper procedure this charade had standing, he would deal with it later. He wasnt one to ponder consequences whenever there was time to act. So with that said he turned his steps towards the entrance instead.

He was done reasoning too. It was a pointless exercise in stubbornness, and they had no time to have that match right now.

What he didnt expect though, was 'friendly fire'. He grew soft to a lot of these people already, had his usual guards down, senses filtering out the familiar, trusted movements. Big mistake. One that bit him in the ass a good few times already. Even Cáren couldnt beat that lesson into him, and she did toss mean surprise blows at him often enough to try. Well, if it wasnt always for purely educational purposes, that was still a counted bonus. Still, no use, once one was filed as friendly, the alerts went down.

A rush of magic filled his head and the world tilted, stretching distant and disappearing into thick darkness. 'How clever' was Sorens last thought in his surprised state, distracted for a moment before blacking out. It was just enough time for his quick brain to figure it was Dorians move, the one who knew enough of the loopholes in his magical artefacts and accessories defenses, and could pull that, well, less than reputable spell out of his finger. Impressed or not on that account, there was a thunderstorm to face... later... after he woke up.

[mommydragon-of-all]

Drop in

“They gave you too dry words to learn. Let me help.”

Soren stealing kisses from @hadiden-lavellan​ … cuz he can. ;) 

[mommydragon-of-all]

By all means and costs, you shall be protected.

- another Soriden flashback that can be read as standalone

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As every big recruiting bunch, the inquisition too drew around itself a fair share of delinquent and criminals, predators, curious opportunists and all sorts of misfits with interests and intentions far and wide from the “big noble goal”. So it was only natural that Soren got involved, as soon as it all started budding and it bumped winds. As it was also only natural, being a bunch of colorful individuals hoarded together with a big and heroic goal, that Soren soon stretched his giant protective wings over all of them good people.

Soren was hoarding to his nest yet again, one spreading over Thedas now thicker than ever, and no sneaks were allowed to touch it. Thus the number of shady figures in the bad meanings of the word (Soren had an extensive explanative vocabulary on the word “shady” alone, in all languages and a couple of his own additions) was drastically dropping. This territory was claimed and guarded by a much bigger beast after all. The most dangerous kind. One with a giant heart and burning passion, and a protective fierceness from hell.

Harmful elements, leeches and wolves in sheeps clothing or honest in appearance but fangs flashing the wrong direction were disappearing all around the inquisitions core, or anywhere it traveled accompanied by Soren. The Inquisition was HIS folks now. From the head of the inquisition to the last cleans maid that joined.

(If you asked Soren he could tell you that brought in by Dana the smiths wives older sister who was a traveling merchant, the last cleans maid joined yesterday, her name was Sara and she liked sour snacks and horses. But who even took notice of her presence yet, except Soren of course. And Soren simply had to ask her about her former village next time he saw her and actually MET her like normal people do, and also ask if she saw any interesting crystals in that area and what she thought of magic and her travel and her family and absolutely any and every other detail she would spill in sudden conversation with an armed to the teeth stranger with a stupidly big smile and –literally- glowing eyes… but people did spill. They did spill a LOT to Soren… it was easy and fluent and relaxing and they all just kept going on and on while this strangely sympathetic elf soaked every drop up like a sponge. A sponge containing the life stories and all spilled details of thousands and thousands and always eager for more.)

And so it happened that That predatory creep didn’t spend much time lurking around Haven. Soren made quick and (relatively) clean work of plugging that weed out, ditching the body to the bottom of the frozen lake. Only Leliana sniffed it out somehow, of which he really was not surprised about even then. He was taking a deep breath preparing himself to defend his act of killing a new civil recruit without any actual proof in is hand against the guy, nor had he actually done anything while still around, but Leliana just smirked and thanked Soren’s excellent social service. She sure had dug up the motive of the act too before facing Soren about it, or maybe her keen eyes caught suspicion too by then? “Points down on discretion though” she added in passing. Now that was an unfair bar to meet with Leliana in charge, really. 

He was a good assassin, thank you very much. ...tough he did act impulsively and also did need to accidentally burn a shed and he even did go and told Jamy with a self-satisfied smile that: “The stinky pig wont bother you anymore for sure, you don’t have to be scared now” and ruffled his copper hair like he was a small puppy to be herded, despite the boy being practically grown up already, then left for some celebratory drinking to treat himself to. Leaving the boy gaping after him because really, was his fear that obvious, and how even and wha~…

Ok, he was a good assassin in DEED.

Jamy would have been the guys first victim, had he not found a certain fully armed elf casually cleaning a blade on top of the storage building -where Jamy went for some extra linen at that chilly night-, eyeing him flatly, blade reflecting the moonlight cold and sharp. The guy then often found himself altering his route on the trail of Jamy or some other lithe young men heading to or through remote locations, the unsettling elf always lounging around the weirdest places, right in his way, silently tending to sharp things and looking at him like a deadly version of a conscience he long left behind. 

Soren figured out quite soon that his options for solving this ugly problem were narrowed down, especially since the thought of this filth getting his way somewhere else didn’t sit well with him at all either. This clearly wasn’t the start of his rotten ways and would not end here without being ended. Everything from the glint in his eye to his systematic under the radar observing routines spoke of a drilled and addicted predator, even his breathing on pursue. But Sorren would not let actual assault happen for an arrest. He considered briefly the “generous” second chance option of liberating the guy of some influential jewelry, but then there was a chance of the violence getting worse from frustration, with the problem rooted upstairs really. 

But the damn shit was considered a member here now and had done absolutely nothing wrong “in fact” and Soren was a bit reluctant to screw his place here up over some dirt like that, so he guarded and plotted for days. The guy seemed to choose the same type of targets, lithe and lean and young men, but only those picking his interest enough for pursuing who have accomplished something, had a big name or some skill acknowledged and praised, things like that… almost as if he would feel powerful by hunting them down and raping them. Which was probably the case. 

Soren mused about setting a trap and getting him locked up when he was sitting by the chimney of a small building one evening, keeping an eye on the pig on the move a few paces behind Noel, when it happened…

Soren took his eyes off of the guy for a second when a mop of sunshine flashed into his eyes through the darkening alley. An involuntary smile pulled up the corner of his mouth at the sight of Hadiden, always brightening his days, lifting him from the darkest corners of his heart. His lopsided smile widened into an amused grin as the lithe elf dropped an empty flask, almost breaking it, and looked like swearing under his nose while he picked it up, blinking around, swiftly checking if anyone saw him being clumsy, face suspiciously rosier. What an delightful distraction from chilly evenings and dark plans. Hadiden was so adorable, looking smaller and much more delicate than he actually was in puffy warm outer clothes and embarrassed over something so small. He continued on his way, very much likely to the hills for some last minute herb collecting, unarmed and hurried, carrying the right tools.

Soren considered coincidentally popping out of a bush next to him there and offering joined search, when he remembered he was on “duty” here.

He broke his gaze from Hadidens departing form and looked around in search for that worlds worse sight again, grin replaced by a disgusted pout, but he didn’t need to search far. In fact, the pig was standing right where his eyes left him. He was seemingly rooted to that spot until now. As if a new wind catching into his sails he moved again, wavering and changing course, panting big heavy clouds into the crisp air. Soren felt his blood freeze in his veins, then explode in fire. The bag of filth was going straight after Hadiden, more purposeful than ever, fuming like a horny beast catching a smell. While logically Soren knew very well that Hadiden was more than capable of defending himself, surely even unarmed and even from a human that big and muscular with experience of how to subdue a smaller body… it did not fucking matter, not through the murderous roar inside shaking Soren's bones. 

He saw red and was on his feet before he realized his body moved. Oh no, that pile of shit wont go even NEAR dear Hadiden, laying his filthy gaze and intention on that glorious bottom like that was already a deadly sin, and Soren wouldn’t allow even the forewind of an assault reach that precious man, regardless of who would pull the shorter straw of such an attempt. Even if it was, logically, the perfect solution against the pig. Attacking the Herald and getting his ass handled to him, assisted by a trusty ally of the elf, then locked up for good, problem solved. It was simply not an option, not even the wind of such attempt was allowed to reach Hadiden, not on Soren’s watch.

Soren moved swift and fast through roofs and alleys as if carried on the wings of death itself. He reached the last, remote building much faster than the lurking bastard, only instinct keeping him in full stealth, unseen by every possible onlooker. 

His fingers almost trembled as he waited, hidden in a blind spot, for his prey to reach the dark corner of the building from where the pathway narrowed and turned to the hills between bushes and trees. Where Hadiden passed with light steps just a short while ago. Soren felt rage over even the fact of how the rotten bag of filth was stepping on Hadidens trail. The wait felt like ages, standing still in a raging storm, but it did bring result. 

The guy was on the floor of the shed before he realized what was happening, but oh Soren did make sure he learned it swiftly, especially the cause of why it was happening, with his boot heavy on the filthy bastards throat, long blades to his face and heart ensuring he listened nice and still.

The pig pissed himself way before actual harm came to him, likely seeing the surety of his impending violent death clear as day in the dark of the shed, looking into the flaming eyes of a beast leagues above his kind, like a rat under the feet of a raging dragon. The glowing emerald orbs burned the words right into the rotten soul of the bastard, who couldn’t even utter a sound under them even without a long boot squashing his pipes.

Soren wasn’t one for torture though, not even in rage, when he was sure he got his point across he promptly crushed the insect under his booth. That did not magically blew his anger away, but it brought a dark satisfaction and relief over an ugly lurking danger to his dear folks eliminated for good, many saved and who knows how many avenged, and most importantly, Hadiden untouched by filth, in any way it might have been able to.… most importantly… despite so many innocents… sure, Hadiden was the one of the targets he knew best and started to really care for lately, but now that his rage calmed he found himself facing some difficult truths. “Dangerous” truths he rather not dwell on, showing them back down before they could gain ground in his head. He should occupy himself with the task at hand instead, ditching the stinky corpse unseen and untraceable.

He sighed, long and slow, blowing the last of the storm out, then looked up around in the shed as if seeing the scene for the first time. Everything seemed ten times sharper, his body just coming down the rush, silence deafening after the roar of his blood echoing in his ears. 

Shoulders sagging he leaned against a post behind him, arms going limp and blades scrapping the floor, head softly thumping back on the old wood. He looked up at the rapidly fading, weak stripes of light coming through the weathered roof and breathed a laugh, quiet and helpless, on himself, on the ridiculousness of this situation he got himself into, in automatic wash of lightness after such a heavy rush, but mostly, in disbelief. Bloody fade, he technically just have killed a new civil recruit in guarding a fine ass, if he put it like that, even if there was much more to it…

Funny how one kind of beast guards from other beasts in a harsh world like this. But as long as he was kept around for it or otherwise, he didn’t mind being one, newer had.

[strawberry-soil]

Hazel Soriden

Template made by Epel and edited a tad to add a few things by Me. Also, art is by @emiboi33​​ (this is also mentioned later in the post).

◈═════════════════◈ 

"You wouldn't kill me Princess, would you?"

═══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Basic Information

═════ • ❖ • ═════ 

Name: Hazel Maria Soriden

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Date Of Birth: November 29th

Profession: Head of the (name)

Age: 21 [Gem Beginning Flashback: 18] 

Species: Half-Human, Half-Witch 

Hobbies:

Zodiac: Sagittarius 

Personality: 

Flaws: Anger issues, going overboard

Phobias: None 

Love Interest: None

◈═════════════════◈

"Oh don't you even try to brainwash them!"

══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Looks

═════ • ❖ • ═════

Hair Length: Half way down her back

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Dark Blue

Height: 5'6 ft

Weight: 143 lbs 

Tattoos: None

Bandages: On her left arm and feet

Scars: Probably where her pinkie is missing

◈════════════════◈

"Have you ever thought that maybe.. NOT EVERYONE IS AS STUPID AS YOU THINK THEY ARE?!"

══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Techniques/Info

═════ • ❖ • ═════

Stamina:

7/10

Jumping:

5/10

Strength:

7/10

Wisdom:

1/10

Charisma:

3/10

Wealth:

2/10

Intelligence:

6/10

◈═════════════════◈

"GET THAT DAMN BRACELET!"

══════════════════ 

◈═════════════════◈

Clothing

═════ • ❖ • ═════

Normal Clothing: Black tank top, gray pants, black fingerless gloves, and an orangy brown cloak

Formal Clothing: None, hasn't needed one

Battle Uniform: Same as normal

Pajamas: She doesn't have any, she sleeps in her clothes

◈═════════════════◈

"'Raccoon boy'.. has a nice ring to it don't ya think?"

══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Health

═════ • ❖ • ═════ 

Sickness:

Cancer: None

Diseases:

Weakness:

Allergies: Dust,

Asthma: None 

Disability: Not sure if this counts but she's missing her pinkie finger on her right hand 

Fears: 

Addiction:

◈═════════════════◈

"Aw what a shame! You don't remember me?"

══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Personality Aspects

═════ • ❖ • ═════

Normal Moods:

Patient/Impatient:

Anger Management?: Yes

Three good things about personality: 

° 

° 

° 

Three bad things of personality: 

° 

° 

° 

◈═════════════════◈

"You've ignored me too long, but I've followed along.."

═══════════════════ 

◈═════════════════◈ 

Relationships

═════ • ❖ • ═════

Mother: ??? {Dead} 

Father: ??? {Dead}

Sister: None

Brother: ??? {Dead}

◈═════════════════◈

"You were always quite the loser, Rosie~"

═══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Extra

═════ • ❖ • ═════ 

Backstory: 

Home: (In the process of naming) 

Dislikes: Residents of Nalitini, The Gem Holders, alcohol,

Likes: Violence, being outside, power, putting other people through challenges

Voice Claim: Cherami Leigh

Theme Song: Discord (The Living Tombstone)

◈═════════════════◈ 

"Zhan Tiri, huh? Sounds like a dumb name but what can I say, your place is named Corona.”

══════════════════

◈═════════════════◈

Art Credits

═════ • ❖ • ═════

@emiboi33​

◈═════════════════◈ 

"Quote"

══════════════════

[mommydragon-of-all]

The Crimson Storm

Soren was flying through the battlefield.

Twisting, spinning, rolling, pouncing, tearing through the biggest clusters like a tornado of flashing blades and explosions, bodies dropping in his path like struck trees, dead before they hit the ground.

The wind carried his excited bursts of laughter across the field, and it sounded so different from the usual infectious, hearty melody ringing clear through taverns and camps, dancing above, unmistakable for all who knew him. This sound was crisp and cutting, rattling the bones, like a peculiar thunder to the flash of his electric blades. It was the exact opposite of the soothing warm bubbles lifting the roofs of Haven’s rooms, easing the weights from shoulders. Some of the support fire faltered a bit as soon as Soren landed in the grove. Although the active stun field was closely limited to the blades in his hands, it almost seemed like he had the shock wave of a true thunderstorm. Deadly to those within its perimeters and giving shivers to those that watched from afar.

The startled cries of the enemy and the sounds of battle were a symphony to Soren’s ears, and he was *dancing*, riding the height, the rush of battle, and his blood was *singing*.

He brought a crimson storm over the bone dry grass field, painting a vivid picture of devastation on the sun bleached canvas. It soaked the thick paint up just as greedily as Soren’s senses did, and he was drunk on it. In the heat of battle and high on the scent of blood, he didn’t see his enemies as people anymore, he saw *prey*, he saw *play*.

Whoever thought it was a desperately stupid idea to enter this fight head on with just Soren as melee fighter supported by mages and archers from above, as this unexpected encounter found their group in such unbalanced constitution, was severely mistaken. It was just crazy. And they didn’t know yet how perfectly “crazy” worked for Soren…

Oh it was so long since he got to properly dance with his blades, he was starting to get itchy. Soren didn’t even wait out the flood of retreat arguments against his instant elaborate plan of “Lets get them.” He flashed a mad grin and literally jumped in the middle of the Trouble, then took that title for himself.

All that blood made his wide grin stand out even brighter, his sharp canines seem even longer, the glint in his eyes sharper. He didn’t just feel like a majestic predator loose on a pack of wolves turned into a flock of prey, in their eyes he very much looked like one. Many of them froze for seconds upon sight of him, even before his lightning enchanted blades reached them. A deadly mistake. They rarely had any more time to react, not that that helped them much. Soren was untouchable in his drive, evading and striking without a break in his fluid whirlwind, each movement a continuation of the last. He was ziping across the battlefield several times over, not staying in the same spot for two seconds, bodies lining his trail, the raining blood filling his footprints.

Between the shitstorm Soren kicked up and the arrows and magic blasting down, soon there were none of the enemy left standing.

The last one got an arrow in the knee before Soren reached him and promptly fell on his ass in pain and sock, wide eyes freezing on Soren. His whole body seemed to shrink more and more with each step Soren took towards him.

With the battlefield falling quiet Soren dropped his momentum, and he was approaching slowly, taking long, hip-swinging cat steps towards his last prey: prone and waiting, for lead perhaps? Soren tilted his head to the side with cold curiosity. *‘Didn’t it know how to dance?’* A chuckle bubbled up Soren’s throat. He spun his bloodied blades playfully and stopped in front of his shivering prey, swaying weightlessly on his long legs, eager, assessing. This prey didn’t seem like planning to move anytime soon. How boring. It appeared to have trouble breathing too, despite only sporting a minor wound -a little red bloom on a grey clad leg- and has gotten as pale as the dry grass under it, but Soren liked the crimson better. There was not nearly enough crimson over here.

However Soren could smell it thick and potent and alluring in the air, could feel it everywhere, cooling rapidly, only this last one’s veins still pumping fresh rivers of it. Soren drew a long breath through his nose, savoring it with slightly dropping eyelids and quietly humming in appreciation, though it might have come out as a faint growl. He unconsciously licked his lips. His canines felt even sharper than usual when his tongue dragged over them -without being mindful of the pressure- and it sent an odd shiver of excitement through him.

But he had much better “fangs” for this hunt, he remembered. Unfortunately he did have to use his sharp teeth as weapon before in a desperate situation. Soren grimaced. It was not a fun memory. (despite loving the taste of blood in general, and lacking the slightest bit of regret over it all) He took a long, satisfying lick along one of his blades though, completely unbothered by the flickers of lightning cracking over it, gloving emerald irises never leaving his last target.

The blood carried the distinct flavor of mined lyrium. He felt the sudden urge to lick his blades clean, and let this sorry excuse of a prey lay fainted by the time he is done, or maybe die of a heart attack – certainly looking not far from either possibility, but where was the fun in that. His blood would turn sluggish. A total waste not even worth a glance.

Chasing the last one always changed the key, it was always when he realized the game was almost over, too soon, always too soon. The last one was the one he paid the most attention to, that he played with the longest, indulging them in a pace more their level, prolonging the fun a bit more, even if it meant sacrificing the thrill of speed.

They usually lived as many minutes more as they were interesting, as much as they thought they actually had a chance, of escaping or fighting back, even if they were almost always so underwhelmingly clumsy and shaky, so far from matching up to Soren’s deadly fluent lead. What a pity. But sometimes they were amusing enough to pay for the extra time and attention, to make up for the dropped speed. Apparently not this one though.

Soren flicked his wrist and slowly raised the blade with an elegant swipe, head tipping in light musing about the best angle to choose for the broadest splatter of beautiful crimson, when he felt a firm but gentle hand on his arm.

He blinked, as if waking from a trace, momentarily confused. He wasnt startled by it, nor was he alerted before it reached him, there were no alarm bells springing him to action, no kicked in reflexes. Which meant, when his sharpened senses registered the approach - familiar steps, maybe even voice, scent - some part of his clouded brain must have filed it as trusted and dismissed it. (Not bothering to alert his consciousness with the unnecessary information. Nothing to be wary of, nothing to protect from.)

He watched the familiar hand guide his arm back down and felt every drop of bloodlust leave him in a rush. He got almost disoriented for a second from the sudden deflate. But then his gaze, drawn further by a warm bright flutter in the wind, reached Hadiden’s face and he was grounded again.

… (Keep reading here if the line isnt working like on phones usually)

.. .

A blink broke the moment suspended in time, and Soren inhaled sharply, eyes widening.

Fuck, he almost wasted their last breathing chance of getting information out of this great mess. He was part of a bigger thing now, they needed to know all kind of stuff . This was no random bandit horde, no local incident to be cleared and be done with it.

Yet he got carried away, as per usual. Moreover, he “flashed his fangs”, quite literally, so disturbingly and undeniably. He turned his head down and away from Hadiden. His eyes stung a bit for a second for some reason but he blinked it away. It was strange. Shit, he didn’t want *Hadiden* to see this… this monstrous, cruel side of him. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t. Or rather, he refused to acknowledge it. He usually had no problems with going full savage beast in a battle for the whole world to behold, having wild fun and tearing the enemy apart, bathing in their blood and riding the height, grinning like a wolf above their ripped corpses without an ounce of sorry. His smoldering, more animalistic, wild sides, ready to blow into fire at the first wrong wind catching into it weren’t particularly well received across Thedas. Having your instincts and stuff boosted had its downsides. However he lived an unapologetic life, he wasn’t proud of things like his cruelty or brutality. And at this moment, in the presence of this beautiful, kind and caring man he couldn’t help but want to be more worthy of the warm hand on his arm.

For the first time in his life he outright *feared* judgment from someone, feared to be feared. He found himself desperately wanting to be trusted, to prove to Hadiden that there was no side of him, no matter how ugly, that would turn against him, that would harm him.

People often were taken aback when they saw Soren in battle. Some might utter how they would have never imagined him kill so brutally and lightly after how much compassion he showed towards everyone and their mother. But it was really simple. Threats were different. When a persons status turned into enemy there was no mercy left to give, they become prey or obstacles to destroy.

The bloodlust… the bloodlust was a bit more complicated. Even Soren himself didn’t know how much of it was original trait and how much it was amplified by all the blood magic jobs done on his body, all the boosts on his basics. A common side effect of enhancing blood manipulation seemed to be the slight general enhancement of the whole package too, the body being such a wonderful complex, which came as a nice bonus on things like hearing or instincts and reflexes, but a real bummer on things like touch, from the fucking sand itches to the joyrides of feeling pain on totally new scales. Soren needed to work on evasion seriously and go through another, stepped up pain tolerance training –like the original wasn’t HELL- so he wouldnt kneel over from less than appropriate level of injuries…. Only quality pleasures made up for that royal pain in the… well. That train of thought just turned towards awkward. But mostly everything had its up and downsides. The surprise distance upgrade to his sight that came with the night vision enhancement was neat, though the bioluminescence his irises gained was not exactly helpful to stealth.

Anyways, it was all part of him now and he owned it, he refused to regret any of it, or be defined by it. He also came to peace with his “darker” sides and urges and learned to accept himself and acknowledge his own needs and know his borders and edges.

He normally wouldn’t try to suppress a part of himself and pretend it didn’t exist just because it was… undesired, but he felt a sharp pang of longing to be accepted, to never become feared by this wonderful person.

Part of him would always remain a beast, but maybe he didn’t want to be a wild one anymore.

Suddenly, having a leash sounded a lot less like loosing freedom and a lot more like having an anchor, someone to belong to. He liked that thought. He liked it too much, and it was damn scary.

Following that spark of longing, old warning bells shook him off that rail. He straightened up fully, taking a deep breath and forcing a small smile on his lips. He spoke up before Hadiden could voice whatever he was thinking behind that gaze, the gaze that practically burned Soren even as he carefully avoided the smallest glimpse towards it. He wasn’t ready to know what emotions it carried, for being judged, or answering concerned or accusing questions or being scolded or… or *something*, so with a tone hopefully light and easy, he cut ahead to avoid being cut -just like in battle.

“Ah, right, this is the last one, isn’t it? Im gonna… ehm… go look what the others might have on them of use and let you question this one.”

Damn, he almost stuttered. He never stuttered, under no circumstances. Not in front of anyone but who he was infatu…… Anyways, true that he often got distracted mid-sentence or something, not for lack of finding what to say, but new floods of thoughts getting stuck on each other on the way out or changing course abruptly. But this… This was unusual and he had to get away before he dared think too much about it.

With that he turned and left, not once daring to look back at Hadiden, but with his eyes downcast he caught a good glimpse of the enemies face, shaking on the ground in shock, terrified out of his mind, like an apprentice about to fail his harrowing. He looked about ready to sell his own mother to the man who relived him of Soren’s presence. Oh, looks like his rampage proved to be useful for Hadiden after all. Self-satisfied, he smirked before his turn broke his sight on the prone enemy and it shrieked, covering impossibly more, seemingly tumbling himself to the next stage of shock.

Soren barely took a few steps when he could hear the guy start spilling without question, tripping over his own words in a high pitched rush. Soren huffed. Yep, having a beast *on leash* certainly could have its benefits on both ends of it.

….

It was later, while he relived a still twitching corpse of the weight of coins and some other valuables, that his wandering thoughts peeked back and he remembered … there was no tremble in that hand on his arm. A spark of hesitant hope glinted in his chest, not giving a shit about his flaring fears or shouting wisdom born from experience or the worry for the big signs of a force never before encountered.

 ………………..

[strawberry-soil]

Tangled The Series

Rose Winters

Hazel Soriden

Nova Scott (Elizabeth Henderson)

Nicole Laylanen [find rename] 

[mommydragon-of-all]

OC stats

@tessa1972 yep im so going to :D

Soren (Lavellan)

25 years old around the Conclave, has a bit of human blood, Rogue (assassin), adventurer, enhanced to the moon (blood magic), vallaslin is not for religious reasons (also modified design), magic nerd on a level that likely only Solas knows more.

B A S I C S

full name: Soren (later/in case takes the name Lavellan)

gender: male

sexuality: omnisexual XD

pronouns: he/him

O T H E R S

family: Had to leave his original clan because his twin sister (magic), parents died on the way to another, he grew up across Thedas cared for by a very colorful bunch of people over the years and places, who he forever considers family. He gained other not blood related “family” members throughout his life. It keeps expanding. Caren (twin sister) is the most important family member and partner in good and bad. Cousins and such and such numerous relatives mostly in dalish clans and humans from grandpas branch are still alive and sometimes they meet with some of them, and he has the honorary “mother” title for good reason across the lands. (he also has a legit blood related half human daughter of who he doesnt know about until much later in most versions)

birthplace: somewhere on the Dales

job: huh… mostly vigilante and fairy godmother to all, assassin, scout, magic - poisons - languages - explosive expert, spy, dragon (and all dangerous creatures and persons) hunter, the bigger and more dangerous the better, traveling adventurer, … i could go on as far as he goes on

phobias: well i guess babies (to be in his care/proximity…so fragile), insects (boosted senses… need i go on?), loosing himself?

guilty pleasures: all the pleasures yes please. He’s a sucker for highest quality everything, poison spiced drinks, blood/“bloodbaths”, lyrium (all kinds and forms but hes not an addict), magical stuff ;) (hmm maybe i could mention sometimes being taken care of in bed since he considers it a guilty pleasure, a selfish thing. The stupid dork cant help that engraved guilty feeling, even though HE loves and immensely enjoys giving care so much too, without ever thinking the other selfish… but thats a long story)

hobbies: (fuuu all long stuff omg)   magic, adventuring, being a vigilante, people, digging up information (from common peoples personal life to ancient magic documents), pranks, making people laugh, showering gifts to ppl he likes, adrenaline, fighting, danger, triggering traps, socializing, enjoying the shit out of life.

M O R A L S

morality alignment? chaotic good 

sins: Desire / Despair / Envy / Fear / Hunger / Pride / Rage / Sloth

virtues: Charity / Chastity / Diligence / Humility / Justice / Kindness / Patience

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert

organized/disorganized

close minded/open-minded

calm/anxious

disagreeable/agreeable

cautious/reckless

patient/impatient

outspoken/reserved

leader/follower

empathetic/unemphatic

optimistic/pessimistic

traditional/modern

hard-working/lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Soriden i mean Hadiden but Maxwell is getting there as well…

Acceptable ships: so MANY he loves good people (unfortunately it happens that he loves bad ones too but its not ending pretty)

ot3: sure can happen

brotp: BULL!, Varric, and basically everyone XD

notp: —

I tag @quizzikemen @pelle-lavellan @hadiden-lavellan @sakurabunnie @ ianazavi @lucaslightthinker @anywaffle @iamnotabard @daihell and everybody who wants to!

[mommydragon-of-all]

Good morning, Sunshine

A possible continuation of the Good Morning, Soren piece, in Hadiden’s AU ( @hadiden-lavellan ), who shines on the first piece, titled Morning Glow  :3

(/￣ー￣)/~~☆’.･.･:★’.･.･:☆  Beautiful Soriden feels.

bonus BW because i use it to verify the values and when i saw it O.O*

[hadiden-lavellan]

HOW DARE I MISS THIS BEAUTY

Drop in

“They gave you too dry words to learn. Let me help.”

Soren stealing kisses from @hadiden-lavellan​ … cuz he can. ;) 

[evakaname]

Reblogging my art for Happy (unofficial) Dragon4ge Day!

The Crimson Storm

Soren was flying through the battlefield.

Twisting, spinning, rolling, pouncing, tearing through the biggest clusters like a tornado of flashing blades and explosions, bodies dropping in his path like struck trees, dead before they hit the ground.

The wind carried his excited bursts of laughter across the field, and it sounded so different from the usual infectious, hearty melody ringing clear through taverns and camps, unmistakable for all who knew him. This sound was crisp and cutting, rattling the bones, like a peculiar thunder to the flash of his electric blades. It was the exact opposite of the soothing warm bubbles lifting the roofs of Haven’s rooms. Some of the support fire faltered a bit as soon as Soren landed in the grove, although his active stun field was closely limited to the blades in his hands, it almost seemed like he had the shock wave of a true thunderstorm. Deadly to those within its perimeters and giving shivers to those that watched from afar.

The startled cries of the enemy and the sounds of battle were a symphony to Soren’s ears, and he was *dancing*, riding the height, the rush of battle, and his blood was *singing*.

He brought a crimson storm over the bone dry grass field, painting a vivid picture of devastation on the sun bleached canvas. It soaked the thick paint up just as greedily as Soren’s senses did, and he was drunk on it. In the heat of battle and high on the scent of blood, he didn’t see his enemies as people anymore, he saw *prey*, he saw *play*.

Whoever thought it was a desperately stupid idea to enter this fight head on with just Soren as melee fighter supported by mages and archers from above, as this unexpected encounter found their group in such unbalanced constitution, was severely mistaken. It was just crazy. And they didn’t know yet how perfectly “crazy” worked for Soren…

Oh it was so long since he got to properly dance with his blades, he was starting to get itchy. Soren didn’t even wait out the flood of retreat arguments against his instant elaborate plan of “Lets get them.” He flashed a mad grin and literally jumped in the middle of the Trouble, then took that title for himself.

All that blood made his wide grin stand out even brighter, his sharp canines seem even longer, the glint in his eyes sharper. He didn’t just feel like a majestic predator loose on a pack of wolves turned into a flock of prey, in their eyes he very much looked like one. Many of them froze for seconds upon sight of him, even before his lightning enchanted blades reached them. A deadly mistake. They rarely had any more time to react, not that that helped them much. Soren was untouchable in his drive, evading and striking without a break in his fluid whirlwind, each movement a continuation of the last. He was ziping across the battlefield several times over, not staying in the same spot for two seconds, bodies lining his trail, the raining blood filling his footprints.

Between the shitstorm Soren kicked up and the arrows and magic blasting down, soon there were none of the enemy left standing.

The last one got an arrow in the knee before Soren reached him and promptly fell on his ass in pain and sock, wide eyes freezing on Soren. His whole body seemed to shrink more and more with each step Soren took towards him.

With the battlefield falling quiet Soren dropped his momentum, and he was approaching slowly, taking long, hip-swinging cat steps towards his last prey: prone and waiting, for lead perhaps? Soren tilted his head to the side with cold curiosity. *‘Didn’t it know how to dance?’* A chuckle bubbled up Soren’s throat. He spun his bloodied blades playfully and stopped in front of his shivering prey, swaying weightlessly on his long legs, eager, assessing. This prey didn’t seem like planning to move anytime soon. How boring. It appeared to have trouble breathing too, despite only sporting a minor wound -a little red bloom on a grey clad leg- and has gotten as pale as the dry grass under it, but Soren liked the crimson better. There was not nearly enough crimson over here.

However Soren could smell it thick and potent and alluring in the air, could feel it everywhere, cooling rapidly, only this last one’s veins still pumping fresh rivers of it. Soren drew a long breath through his nose, savoring it with slightly dropping eyelids and quietly humming in appreciation, though it might have come out as a faint growl. He unconsciously licked his lips. His canines felt even sharper than usual when his tongue dragged over them -without being mindful of the pressure- and it sent an odd shiver of excitement through him.

But he had much better “fangs” for this hunt, he remembered. Unfortunately he did have to use his sharp teeth as weapon before in a desperate situation. Soren grimaced. It was not a fun memory. (despite loving the taste of blood in general, and lacking the slightest bit of regret over it all) He took a long, satisfying lick along one of his blades though, completely unbothered by the flickers of lightning cracking over it, gloving emerald irises never leaving his last target.

The blood carried the distinct flavor of mined lyrium. He felt the sudden urge to lick his blades clean, and let this sorry excuse of a prey lay fainted by the time he is done, or maybe die of a heart attack – certainly looking not far from either possibility, but where was the fun in that. His blood would turn sluggish. A total waste not even worth a glance.

Chasing the last one always changed the key, it was always when he realized the game was almost over, too soon, always too soon. The last one was the one he paid the most attention to, that he played with the longest, indulging them in a pace more their level, prolonging the fun a bit more, even if it meant sacrificing the thrill of speed.

They usually lived as many minutes more as they were interesting, as much as they thought they actually had a chance, of escaping or fighting back, even if they were almost always so underwhelmingly clumsy and shaky, so far from matching up to Soren’s deadly fluent lead. What a pity. But sometimes they were amusing enough to pay for the extra time and attention, to make up for the dropped speed. Apparently not this one though.

Soren flicked his wrist and slowly raised the blade with an elegant swipe, head tipping in light musing about the best angle to choose for the broadest splatter of beautiful crimson, when he felt a firm but gentle hand on his arm.

He blinked, as if waking from a trace, momentarily confused. He wasnt startled by it, nor was he alerted before it reached him, there were no alarm bells springing him to action, no kicked in reflexes. Which meant, when his sharpened senses registered the approach - familiar steps, maybe even voice, scent - some part of his clouded brain must have filed it as trusted and dismissed it. (Not bothering to alert his consciousness with the unnecessary information. Nothing to be wary of, nothing to protect from.)

He watched the familiar hand guide his arm back down and felt every drop of bloodlust leave him in a rush. He got almost disoriented for a second from the sudden deflate. But then his gaze, drawn further by a warm bright flutter in the wind, reached Hadiden’s face and he was grounded again.

… (Keep reading here if the line isnt working like on phones usually)

Keep reading