#guarddogbiscuits

[bushelofmuses]

@guard-dogbiscuits Cont.

They were getting too old for the excitement, weren't they? Gods, someone might joke that they'd need a nap just so they could keep up with everyone else in the festivities. He was thankful that things were always moving or that they were always busy. It kept him from wallowing in self-pity or worrying about the future.

Ameridan sipped his wine, looking at the door over the glass rim. His lips twitched towards a smile. Good. Elpenor and Dorian deserved that; they deserved to be happy.

"They've only been dragging their feet for months..." Not that he could fault them for it. He didn't know their reasons for waiting. Maybe it was caution; maybe it was just them dancing around each other. Whatever the case, they got their acts together and could be happy now.

He snorted, "Pity for them or for her? I feel she's dodging arrows right and left; most of them are rubbish."

Ameridan had seen one or two make attempts to woo her, and their failures were pitiable on the one hand...but excellent entertainment on the other. He felt a little sorry for her that she'd have to deal with it at all, however. Maker, Drakon had had a time of it before he'd settled down. He wouldn't wish that attention on anyone.

"Careful though. You might wind up on Josephine's list next."

[altuspavus]

"Something doesn’t feel right." (Inquisitor Lennie, about the Winter Palace Uniform. Which among other things, clashes horribly with her red hair.} "This looks ridiculous on a Qunari. Can't I just wear my armor? Bet you anything I'll end having to change into it anyway..."

@guard-dogbiscuits

Dorian nodded in understanding. Something not being right was an understatement. Alas, he had offered his assistance and services many a time to the tailors and been turned away each time. Something about his 'Northern ideals on fashion' not fitting in, as if he had not been to Orlais, had entertained Orlesians, had kept up with their latest fashions for the majority of his life (admittedly half of the time to mock their choices in comparison to the clearly superior Tevinter choices, but that was of no matter).

He pulled at the collar of his own, matching, quite literally identical, uniform. "It is.... a statement, for sure. A statement of what, exactly, is beyond me. The colour is.... red." Astute, Pavus. "At least the fabric is.... ah... woven tightly enough that we shall not freeze to death?" Though it was horrendously scratchy, which was impressive in all the wrong ways.

"While it would certainly be simpler and most likely far more comfortable, armour is hardly the outfit of choice for an event such as this. We must look.... presentable." It took a ridiculous amount of effort for Dorian to call their uniforms such a term, but at least he did not try for a kinder word. "We must look, ah... military, but also able to play The Game and understand politics, we must appear as clearly united..." Which could be done with complementary colours and coordination as opposed to identical uniforms, in his not-so-humble opinion. "And we must not offend the nobility, which, unfortunately, is likely to happen if we showed up in armour." Dorian was sure that it would be clear in his tone and expression how this pained him just as much as it pained her, though clearly for differing reasons.

[magioffire]

“Just how rough was that last landing?” (Jag)

sentences for winged muses ; accepting.

@guard-dogbiscuits

"Ugh...pretty rough, indeed," Vali groaned, and then glanced towards the stranger with a start. He seemed to emerge out of thin air -- or maybe, just maybe, Vali was too focused on not breaking his neck on a branch to notice anyone in the general vicinity. Potentially laughing at his misfortune. They said it was okay to laugh at someone's accident as long as no one was seriously injured, and so, he entirely expected to be mocked.

The fae managed to escape his unlucky crash with nothing but a few cuts and bruises, torn clothes, and one of his wing membranes folded over. He leaned back to smooth out his wings, trying to make himself more presentable, more dignified. Hard to look dignified with twigs in his hair. "You didn't see anything." Vali sneered.

[softersinned-arc]

@guard-dogbiscuits said: ❝ oh, i do love a violent woman. ❞  (Lord Jagged, Vampire AU)

Living for centuries has done plenty, but it hasn’t made her immune to flattery. Astoria flashes him a bright smile, and she’d offer a theatrical bow, too, were she better positioned for one. Rather, she’s perched on a rooftop like a gargoyle, all sharp and inhuman angles, and instead she tips an imaginary hat in his direction.

        “Just doing a favor for a friend.” Astoria’s voice is tinged with false modesty. “You know how it goes. Every now and again somebody’s been alive for too long and it’s time to fix it. It’s a public service, if you think about it. I hope he wasn’t one of your friends. I’d hate to offend, but there’s no changing the past, and... well, there isn’t much left to put back together, is there?”

          And she leans forward, now, almost far enough that she’ll topple off her perch, and her grin widens. “So? To what do I owe the pleasure? Do you just happen to be passing through the same place I’m passing through, or were you looking for me?”

[bushelofmuses]

@guard-dogbiscuits From Open

Cole was easy to startle; loud noises or sudden movements blared in his mind like a horn. A man of his stature appearing without warning certainly had bells tolling loudly in his head and he jerked away from him. "Nearly coming out of his skin," Varric might say. So that's what he meant by it.

He eyed him warily from beneath the wide brim of his hat, but listened intently. Cole was almost scared to let his mind reach out to feel his thoughts and emotions, but curiosity won and he tried.

He sounded...sad, heartbroken, wistful, or helpless maybe? Helpless was such an odd word to use to describe someone like him. Someone so—yes, trying to feel his emotions was a terrible idea and he should have listened to himself. It was overwhelming and so loud.

Cole grimaced and shrank away a moment, shoulders raising to his ears as he quickly blocked it out. He wouldn't do that again.

"Does she know the pain she causes?" he finally asked.

The stranger was right, though; it was gorgeous here. But it should be loud...in a peaceful way, he supposed. Like a bustling city street during a festival, the excitement of chattering citizens.

"...It's not your fault."