#abanbas

[berthindeath]

8 bingos: you are my iubire, i the moon to your tides

[fortunesblade]

Zahav dropped down from the narrow space he climbed up into. Landing gracefully onto sand bellow with a soft grunt at the effort. The treasurer turned to his partner. Disappointment evident 'pon his freckled features. "I didn't find much of anything in there. Unless you count sand and a couple sorry sods that tried taking refugee there." He started, presenting the few coins he pocketed to Sire with a shrug, "They weren't very old--- think they might have been Vints. Just real fucking unlucky ones."

"You find anything interesting?" Leaning in he playfully pressed himself flush against the other's chest with a pleading face, "Please say yes."

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　° @abanbas

[scvcnofswords]

❝ you're gonna be okay. eventually. but first you gotta not be okay for a while. it's gotta suck so you can actually recognize when you're alright again. ❞ for Litriu || @abanbas

The reassurance does what is likely the exact opposite of the intent. The Warden's shoulders go rigid, and she goes very still, body halting entirely. Like an animal in a corner, a beast eyeing a trap it knows will cause harm. She looks to the speaker out of the corner of her eye, lips curling back just slightly from her teeth a moment before her expression willfully goes blank.

"I am fine." gritted out, vicious, ground glass in her throat. "I have no need for platitudes or appeasement to be effective. Mind your own self before you think to me and worry of mine."

She does not like to be seen, she does not like to be pinned like a butterfly to a board. And she feels it.

Instinct screams to retreat, to vanish into the shadows, but there's nowhere to go; so the bobcat weaving around her heels reacts instead, hissing a long, low warning to him.

"I am fine. I know myself and my limits. If I need help, I'll ask." words bitten-out and hard-wrought.

[blightworn]

immortalizing this because it made me cackle out loud

[fatewoven]

i’m  finding  it  harder  to  fit  in. / @abanbas

Emmrich shifts his weight on the staff, staring over the edge of one of the many overlooks scattered across the crossroad's islands. The sky takes on the hue of a lazy evening with the sunset painted like an afterthought, the distant horizon a damp watercolour canvas soaked a touch too much, with vibrant greens melting into cooler blues, blood red dissolving into streaks of gold. The same gold caught in Rook's eyes, stuck there with the same prominence of an eclipse. It's a fine gaze to be sought by, and yet, today, Sire's head tilts downward as if weighed by anchors — the airy personality diffused. Diluted. Popped like a stray bubble. A frown graces his features, disliking the implication of any wounded self-esteem. "My dear, it's odd to consider you as a conformist. What troubles you?" Question escorted by touch, the lightest drift of fingers against the other's forearm, he watches, as all those who mourn must, the slow coaxing of regrets to the surface. "One of the greatest tragedies in life is being what others want us to be, rather than being ourselves. You're straining. Relax your shoulders." There, breathe out.

[elliscousland]

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

ellis is a huuuge tease, in & out of the bedroom. it's one of the few things he's any sort of patient about. he's always looking for a new button to push, especially when it comes to his partners. he likes to frustrate them, rile them up. he gets a huge emotional high out of it & considers it a sport. if it's already established that they're okay w it, he will sneak passing touches anywhere he can when he thinks no one is looking to try & keep them wanting.

he'll spend a lot of time teasing his partner leading up to anything in the bedroom. touching them, whispering little nothings in their ear, promises even. if there are some sort of circumstances keeping them apart, he writes pretty in depth letters about what he's going to do when he gets his hands on them. his want cuts deep into him & he wants it to cut into them too. i touch kind of briefly on it here, but location is not going to stop him from touching a partner if they express they're also into it.

when it actually comes to teasing & sex, it's a huge part of the appeal. i have talked about it in passing but ellis is into bdsm / into kinky power exchanges & one of the sweetest things to him is to have his partner begging. he'll make every promise in the book, he'll put his hands everywhere on his partner but the place they want him to & even when they asks, he'll act like he can't hear them <3

throughout a lot of foreplay he stays dressed to maintain that illusion of control for both himself & his partner, if that makes sense? he uses losing pieces af clothes as a teasing tactic as well. like omg where did my SHIRT go?? >:)??? evilness. anyways, he uses teasing as a tool to frustrate, rile up & make his partner desperate for him as he is for them.

when it comes to teasing, he's a lot less patient. in fact, he get's mad fast. when he gets mad, he cries, but that's not super unusual for him during sex. it's not a bad thing, he just gets overwhelmed & overstimulated. but, lucky for everyone, he loves being overwhelmed & overstimulated. it's not difficult to get him begging because chances are, he's already desperate for whoever he's with. if ellis isn't doing the teasing he gets so, so, so riled up & will pretend it's the worst thing that's ever happened to him but it is a whole nother high to follow. he likes someone who can match his energy, who can bring out the same desire in him he tries to pull from them.

[thedaschosen]

( ⌺ ) // WAVES WASH AGAINST SAND, THE SOUND LIKE A CURTAIN OF RAIN. wind stirs at the palm leaves -- the shadows in stripes upon the crow's form. golden honey eyes trace the horizon of the sea. in treviso -- there were canals, lapping at old bricks and history stained structures -- but in rivain, the ocean felt vast and endless.

" so, this is home ? " the white blonde haired crow inquires, looking up at the other, " never seen beaches like these ... honestly haven't travelled much out of treviso until now. " she admits, arms crossing as she shifts her boots in the sand below. // @abanbas liked for a starter !

[thundrer]

@abanbas surprised thor. after the boop on his nose the corner of his lips pulled into a genuine smile, it shines brightly that matches the delightful gleam in sky blue eyes. ❝ thank you. ❞ and he bows his head in appreciation.

!

[cinderschild]

❝ I didn't know where else to go . . . ❞

show up on a dragon's doorstep.

The night behind him is oddly quiet compared to the glow and crackle of the hearth behind them. A slow nod is given as @abanbas is welcomed into the old, long-forgotten stronghold. ❝ You know you are always welcome here. ❞ Not much else is said as a second mug of tea is made before being placed into the mage's hands. Finally settling in one of the well-worn armchairs, Helia crossed her arms and leaned back. ❝ It's not often that you make your way out here. What has happened, Sire? ❞

[adizzyingemporium]

@abanbas starter

Carnage sang to Ursula's sinews as she walked through the goblin camp, her bliss amplified by the rich twang of blood on her tongue. Her first senseless act of violence caused everything to click into place even as her memory remained in tethers. This had been what she had missing; this was what she was meant to do. A weapon used to rip and tear.

What about the druid?

The unspoken question snapped Ursula back to reality, her eyes opening once more as she stopped near one of the many doors in the defiled temple.

"We pay him a visit," if he would be of use to her then she would save him. Ursula may have been a monster but she tried to treat those that aided her well at the very least.

Glancing around, Ursula projected her voice, an unspoken threat dancing on the sharp edge of her tongue, "if you live step out of the shadows."

[fortunesblade]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　° @abanbas There's a smile, a wide bright one as Sire bring Zahav into a hug, looking up at the soft, warm rain beating down on them. Slowly his gaze falls to his partner in crime, the sun on his waters keeping him warm through the colder nights. " It's little cheesy but," He pressed his forehead to Zahav's, then kissing it. " If it's with you, I don't mind a cheesy rain scene for our love story." Sire cocks a brow, bringing himself back to look at Zahav, his index finger and thumb now cradling his chin. " This is a love story, isn't it Sunflower?"

He's easily reeled into the other's embrace. Instinctively resting his head against Sire's plush chest, briefly listening to the soothing beat of his heart. Making it easy to block out the gentle rainfall they found themselves in. Salt coated skin and layer of sand that stuck to his body being washed away. It left him feeling lighter, even at his clothes began to soak. The elf chuckled before his partner even finished his confession. Pushing himself upwards like a needy feline when their foreheads touched, ears wiggling happily, he craved more than a mere peck in that moment. "Right out of a campy romance serial." He added humorously, Sire's words hadn't quiet hit.

Zahav settled into their touch. Gazing up at him just as he would look out to the sea; in utter admiration and wonder. Nothing could keep the treasurer from returning to that endless horizon. Just as nothing keep him from finding his way back to Sire.

Sun kissed pools were wide in surprise. They held each other's affections, yes, very much so. Yet, they had not... ever outright spoken that powerful word ( out of fear or hesitance--- one couldn't be sure ) . Love. No, the pair had other methods of showing it; through gifts, touch, words of praise and protective nature. But a love story? Theirs? Small smile curled over his rose tinted lips, "Is that what you want it to be? What you want us to have?"

[scvcnofswords]

@abanbas liked for a starter from HARROW THORNE

"In case I forgot to mention it before," Harrow says, leaning hard on their shield. "I hate swamps. And I hate Hossberg. The swamps here are much worse than the ones in Amaranthine. I never thought I'd say that." Their head bows down a moment and they take a long, deep breath, before straightening back up and looking to their compatriot, worry creasing their tattooed brow. "Are you alright? Shrieks can be very nasty to fight, especially in places where your movement is restricted." A pause and they look to a pouch on their belt.

"I've got plenty of first-aid gear, but my own first aid skills are limited to cleaning and stitching. I'm much better at breaking things than fixing them, I fear."

[crosaidi]

"No. No, tell me what you actually think. I want to know." @abanbas / dragon age 2

" Wot I think don’t much matter, " the Grey Warden rebounds, voice rough. He’s in a mood; a little dour, dark, in part caused by the dull headache behind his eyes. One Archdemon’s call back during the Fifth Blight was bad enough, back when he was young and fierce and newly Joined and his blood not acclimated enough to the Taint to form that connection between he and the Darkspawn so clearly. Now, he’s twenty-odd years older, the Blight firmly has hooks in every part of him, and at night in his dreams the Archdemons sing. 

Archdemon, he supposes, now. Razikale’s dead. Not that it helps. Their song is like nails down a stone. Even worse when he’s starting to understand it. 

Either way: he scrubs a hand over the coarseness of his overgrown beard as he kneels by the stream, plunging his waterskin into it entire. It bubbles, fiercely, as it refills. " Rook’s goin’ t’do wot they’re goin’ t’do —— " And he sits back on his heels, finally, giving a glance back. His thoughts war briefly, then settle. " Wot I think is that this en’t a Blight like we’ve ever known, an’ th’Grey Wardens’ve been all but bloody decimated since Ostagar, Adamant, an’ now Weisshaupt’s gone. An’ I’m tryin’ t’stay ——" He waves a hand, vaguely, because he can’t even say the word optimistic just yet, " But right now, I just got t’be pissed for a minute. " 

[blightworn]

✦

@abanbas | positivity meme: always accepting!

niko oh my god sire is probably the most unique muse i've met so far since jumping back into rping and i absolutely love him for it! you're a bright, creative, passionate writer and i love everything you put out. sire's heart is on his sleeve and that's my favorite place for a heart to be worn :')

[rookfang]

how does laika get her equipment for mixtures? Like i know we've talked about her being a mad science type, can you elaborate on that? Also can u tell the class about her time in the fade prison and what happens to her after that? Ok love u bye bye.

CURIOUS NOT-SO-ANONS . ACCEPTING .

I've decided to poke at this one out of character, for as much fun as trying to describe it all in character would be, I'm slowly losing all braincells.

MAD-ISH SCIENTIST:

Yes, I have occasionally described Laika has a ' mad scientist ' but it is more accurate to describe her as a pre-to-peri Victorian chemist. The era of science I'm picturing is that of John Dalton - an understanding of some of the underlying principles, but not all of them. There is a foundation of knowledge to pull from, but it is patchy, and very untested. Laika knows that something in the structure of saltpeter ( potassium nitrate ) causes it to amplify other ignitions, but doesn't know that ( on a fundamental level ) it's the amount of protons, and its reactivity is caused by the amount of free electrons in the valence ring. Because how the fuck could she?

I've said it once, I'll say it again: Laika is nerfed by not having access to an electron microscope.

Laika's equipment and supplies are taken from universities in Tevinter. I say ' taken ' but, usually, they are pieces that are already being thrown out; microscopes that need new lenses, or are too damaged for the professors to bother to repair, but for Laika, that's fair game. Otherwise, she gets supplies from wholesalers, or repatriated from the cabinets of Magisters. There are some things she has to collect herself, but for the most part, there's enough of an Alchemist's Guild within Tevinter that she can just write a letter and get stuff delivered. Exchange money for goods and service. That said, she does know how to forage for certain things as needed ( nightshade, poppies, etc. ) when traveling on the road.

THE FADE PRISON / FADE-TOUCHED

Now this is an idea that is... not quite canon, yet, because I'm still toying and chewing on it. However, I'll indulge you and myself here.

The Fade Prison was an experience for Laika. The Veilguard come to mean so much to her, that one of them choosing sacrifice - achieving what Laika has been trying to choose for herself... Actually, let me talk about that, first:

This is all actually built from — I suppose, my misunderstanding of the game's cues. I very much thought that Rook had BIG red death flags, all over the place. "And now, I die?" I mean, come on. So I built Laika into a character that is defined by a need for a good death. Death in service of a better tomorrow. That, then, someone else sacrifices themself, is enough to seal her in the prison.

Her escape happens much the same as canon; she untangles lies from truth, and makes room for acceptance. As much as she felt she had a responsibility to protect her friends, they are still people. If they make a choice, and she cannot claim it, she cannot say it was her fault. To do so would deny them their personhoods.

In accepting that not everything is hers to control, and all she can do is mourn and move on as they would want — the Fade.... bends to Laika. Bends around her, in the same breath that she makes space for her own mourning ( of the lost companions, of Varric ) the Fade cups around her heart.

When first out of the Fade, Laika is still not quite convinced of the reality she's in. I assume the party helps her, in this regard though we do not see this in game—— But, there's simply too much going on for her to notice that the Veil is... weird. Around her.

I have yet to consider how the magic manifests, though I think at some point during the ascent to battle Elger'nan is likely a good, emotional place for it. Because this power is transferred to her within the Fade, it bears a great deal of resemblence to Rift Magic, as the Veil takes to her.

It's not.... great. For Laika. She's a little frightened by it. Tapped into a world that was never hers, after spending months dealing with an unreality tainted by blood magic... It is hard to accept that it's real, at first? Much like mourning, it takes time.

[paterfang]

@abanbas said, “ if you really wanna stay, i'll go alone. ”

LONG LOST | ACCEPTING.

THE QUIET OF HIS QUARTERS somehow lacks any peace; the air feels thick, hot, sticking to the back of Charon's neck and slow, slow, slow dripping down in beads between his shoulder blades.  Brown eyes glance around, the warmth of the candles sputtering.  Sire stands at the door, frame so supposedly imposing and yet he is so...  vibrant?  A color yet to unseen; a brightness and levity and an enchanting expression.  Burning bright, outside of his customs and outside of his range of experience.  

“ Or— Or you could stay.  As well. ”  It falls out the Legatus' mouth; dropped like a glass globe onto the ground, shattering with the silence that follows.  Mercy from the Maker would not come, the air would continue to hold until he further explained himself.  “ I have enough tea to last the night, a-and could use assistance, translating these letters.  They are in Qunlat, and I— ”  Can read Qunlat fluently, actually.  It was basically required in his post.  “ — Could use a second pair of eyes. ”