#dalishflame

[cheekylilfiend]

Haarlep's nickname for her is stinky little demon (affectionate) @dalishflame

@dalishflame

”Says the smelly, filthy, horny Harlot,” She would grumble, not as affectionately, but with a smile nonetheless and maybe a fluttering of her lashes, “Shovel smells amazing thank you very much. Like shit, piss and blood.”

She appreciates the nickname and secretly preens under the affection.

[itsalcngstory]

i'm imagining what we'd be doing if we were together. - Nysa

Brows furrow im mild confusion as golden gaze flickers about, as though trying to spot if there were anyone else around them. In the moment, it was just the duo, having been off from the group to go rummage for some firewood for the night, perhaps find some berries or something that could assist in adding some flavor to tonights meal.

". . .I'm standin' right here, and we're together right now, trying to find firewood, so. . .Atreion, the hell do you mean?"

@dalishflame

[dionadaiir]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒; 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐀, 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒. Atreion's movements were always beautiful, but what had the Kelpie proprietor so distracted from serving drinks was the beautiful pleated ponytail the other seemed to wear.

It took all his will not to reach out and give it a pleasant little tug. Perhaps later, when they were alone. His eyes fluttered for a moment as he glanced at Atreion's face.

❝ 𝐀𝐡'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠? ❞

@dalishflame 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑.

[never-surrender]

@dalishflame \\ Anthony

You wouldn't normally find him in a place like this, being an activist over something that others found righteous fury in protesting against. In fact Anthony typically steered clear of matters pertaining to the political... call it habit, call it whatever you want, but as a retired special forces, he hadn't been able to participate in matters like this back when he was still enlisted. So quite frankly Atreion should be grateful he was here period.

"So what do I do again?" he asks, arms crossed over a broad chest as his gaze scans the crowd once, twice, three times before his gaze settles back on them.

[shishitoren-vc]

@dalishflame

"Your first time killin someone?" the drawl of his speech comes from behind them as Togame approaches, coming to a stop beside Atreion as he stares at the people dead before them. Sure they had killed goblins already, but there was a difference between killing one of those monsters ... and killing one of your own. Especially a pair of people who had only wanted to save their brother after an owlbear had attacked him. By all rights they had been helpless...

[eritvita]

@dalishflame

The air is cooling finally into that whisper of Fall, the Summer leaves of bright, iridescent Greene borne to gentle wisps of soft breezes, and Roland's leg kicks idly from his chosen spot within the branches of a strong, hearty oak. Beneath him, grazing without fantastic care, art a herd of halla, glittering sunlight glistening from their porcelain flanks, their horns jutting high and carved beautifully by the Clans.

Perchance is there a Clan nearby, ponders studious Roland, as he rests his head at his arms, leant safely inside this tree's berth. A crack of a twig nearby alerts the herd to a sudden presence, great heads lifting for clarity, and Roland follows their line of sight: still, searching.

[rhapsodyandwoe]

✏️

@dalishflame

Send in ✏️ and I’ll use this (improved) incorrect quote generator featuring both our muses!

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Cazador: I haven’t lost my virginity. Atreion: Because you have no friends? Cazador: No... because I never lose!

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Cazador: What must it be like to live in your head? Are there happy ponies in there? It’s really something how utterly delusional your optimism is. If I didn’t hate you so much, I might even be impressed. Atreion: Huzzah! I got a heavily qualified and slightly sarcastic compliment from Cazador!

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Atreion, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy. Cazador: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.

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[etdraconis]

@dalishflame asked: " [cook] - With Krem " [ cook ] sender and receiver cook a meal together // ordinary intimacy // accepting!

Cooking had always been one of Krem's favorite things, second only to sewing. He had never appreciated it as a kid, when his mother had tried to get him to help in the kitchen. Back then, he had only wanted to go outside and play or work with his father. Cooking had seemed so... domestic to him back then. But then he had joined the military and had quickly learned how to cook as necessary.

Fleeing the military had resulted in the skill becoming further ingrained, as it was either he cooked for himself or starved most of the time. The skill came even more in handy after he joined the Chargers; though some of the group could cook, many did not - especially Bull. In order to avoid accidentally getting poisoned it was best he just volunteered to cook most of the time.

What he loved even more than just cooking, however, was having a companion to cook with. It made the task even more fun, giving him someone to talk with as well as an extra hand to make the meal go faster. So having Atreion helping him now was a welcome task. He grinned at the elf beside him as he kneaded the bread he was making.

"Thank you again for your help with this, Inquisitor," he told him. "I'm sure you have other things that could use your attention. But I really wanted to make Bull a nice meal for his birthday, and it's far easier with an extra set of hands. And thanks, too, for convincing the cook to let me use Skyhold's kitchen; I promise to make sure it's back in order as soon as we're done."

[itsalcngstory]

"So, if we're going to be traveling with one another, it might be best to get to know each other, hm? Maybe play a little game - you ask me a question, then I ask you one. Best to tell the truth; good show of trust, you know." Blade is sheathed back into it's holster beneath her coat, reaching once again for another just to start the same cleaning process she had just finished, a light, orange glint refected from the fire of the camp.

@dalishflame

[dionadaiir]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃. He was smiling with a mischievous grin as his gaze connected with Atreion's. 

❝ 𝐈𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝? 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈’𝐦 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥.❞ 

@dalishflame liked for a 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫.

[inabsentiia]

"You're a good boy, aren't you? Of course you are. My dear, beautiful boy, you're always so good for me." 😈

The words take him off guard, and before he can even try to control it, the warmth of his cheeks creeps up to the tips of his ears. Turning the man's face a warm pink. For a moment he seems a little speechless. How is he even supposed to respond to that? Instead, he moves to capture Atreion's lips in a kiss.

"hm... that's cheating, you know?" He breathes softly.

[waywardtavsanddurges]

@dalishflame

"How often is that going to happen?" Felyn asked, patting out the fire that Atreion apparently 'invadvertantly started' because of this Wild Magic business. They were down in the Underdark, having just dispatched a group of Hook-Horrors and their master before a stray firebolt from Atreion set her cloak on fire.

This was why she never worked with sorcerers. Wizards, she understood, but those that could just... do magic like that. She had her own inherent spells, of course, as a ranger and a drow, but nothing like what Atreion could do.

"Is there no way to give a warning when it does happen?" She asked, looking down at the slick ground where her singed, burnt, and ruined cloak now lay in a smoldering mess.

[skyheld]

@dalishflame cont. x

"Not merely ridiculous, I find it troubling. I am— so glad you agree." It brings him no joy to see Atreion in such distress, but he does visibly relax at their reaction; it's the clearest confirmation he could want that his fears were unfounded. "I misunderstood you, thank the Creators. For a moment..."

He sighs, briefly closing his eyes around memories he wishes he could bury. For a moment he heard an echo of Drakon's words through their mouth: I have to lay the world under me because it's in shambles, don't you see? I can only stop this chaos if I can control everything. It doesn't have to be forevr, but look at how many lives would be lost if I let go.

In the light of that, Ameridan's reaction wasn't an overreaction. Atreion isn't anything like the emperor who ordered the execution of a cult of singers because they refused to bear weapons even against the darkspawn, but then Drakon as a young man wasn't like that either. He changed. He was changed. Power did something to him, as did the hardships he faced and the whispered words of his counselors, urging him to take more control, convincing him that it was needed. As did hearing the words he wrote into the Chant sung in the temple he'd built, by a choir led by the Divine he had elected. In his defense, that would change anyone.

At least Atreion doesn't have to deal with that — yet. Then again forcing them to listen to Chantry verse about themselves would likely have a different effect on them than it did on Drakon. "Maybe your advisors have been playing the Game for too long. They forget the pieces they move around on the board are people, even when they are right in front of them. Their trust in you is well-placed—" he says that earnestly, meaning it, especially now, "—but no one, no matter how good, should have the power you hold. As you already know, clearly."

[dionadaiiraaa]

❝ Why are you staring? Do you have anything better to look at? ❞ Honey hues fixated on Atreion, his ivory brows furrowing in a look of irritation.

❝ If you need something, spit it out. ❞

@dalishflame liked for a starter.

[ferinehuntress]

❛  i’m gonna take care of you, whether you want me to or not.  ❜ - Aylin

Even an immortal demi-goddess can be harmed. The broken wing hung limply against the ground after the battle had ended. A few heavy swipes of an axe had cleaved through muscle and tissue, leaving silver blood staining her wing. Her hand reached over to her shoulder, gripping at the ache, but could not reach her wing. Her shoulder rolled forward, growling at the burning ache in her muscles as they tried to lift her wing, but it proved fruitless. She pressed her sword against the ground to act as a stabilizing pole and used her hand to grab her wing and tuck it under her arm. Her nose scrunched as she kicked the body away from her, glaring with venom and anger.

“Atreion,” Aylin spoke as the red-haired elf came running up to her side and concern bristled against his eyes. “Do not fret, it is only a flesh wound. Tis heal in time,” Aylin spoke, as if she did not think he needed to use any healing on her. “Save your strength for those who need it. My body is more virile than mortals.” And yet, he would not relinquish, as Aylin pursed her lips together.

“Truly, this is...” Despite protest, Atreion had Aylin sitting down and already working to mend the wounds upon her wing. She flinched, not out of genuine pain but from terrible memories. Letting someone freely touch her wings had become a source of pain and fear; only Isobel could touch them without her reacting poorly. But Aylin constantly repeated within her mind that he would not harm her nor cut off her wings like the Sharrans before. Her hands curled into fist and pressed them against her legs, forcing them to stay put even though every fiber said to snap back and defend herself.

The burning faded and she could feel the muscles and tissues stitching themselves together once more. It ached, but no longer useless. “Thank you,” Aylin said, as she stretched her wing out and folded it against her back.

[shadovan]

@dalishflame cont. from here x:

Atreion went gladly into their embrace, burrowing their face into the cool skin of Tar's neck. He smelled strongly of his favourite cologne, almost but not quite hiding the acrid hint that Atreion always assumed was from Tar's many potions. It had become almost as familiar as their own, and they breathed it in with a happy hum -- until those whispered words hit home, and they stiffened.

"...What?" Atreion pulled back, just enough to meet those golden eyes. They searched his face, bewildered, for a hint of irony or laughter, but Tareque's poker face was immaculate. Their own was not, and they shook their head vehemently, swallowing hard around the lump forming in their throat. "Tar-- that... that isn't funny. Please. You mustn't tease me about something so important."

While a question such as the one that had slipped from his mouth might have been a bit intense or unexpected, funny or teasing had certainly not been two of the words Tareque would have associated with it. He looked at Atreion with confusion, his forehead creasing ever so slightly as he attempted to make sense of their reaction.

"I hadn't spoken it in jest," he assured, a bit softer as he realized this was a bit more of a tender matter than he might have initially anticipated.

A hand raised to tuck a long red strands of hair behind Atreion's ear and he offered what he hoped was a comforting smile. "Do not worry of it... If my words bother you, you may pretend they were never spoken." That wasn't the ideal reaction, certainly, but Atreion's comfort was far more important than his own instant gratification through sentiment.