#highteyrna

[championsofthegate]

@highteyrna asked: 💗  to  lean  against  my  muse. / to cietan!

Cietan was up late, tending the fire. Well, poking the fire with a stick and watching in fascination as the flames shifted and whirled. Same thing, really.

Fires had never been so bright in the shadowfell. It was like it sucked the color out of everything, leaving it in shades of grey and black and white. Even the fire hadn't been immune.

He gave a small smile as Beatrize approached him. Before he could ask what she was still doing up, however, she plopped beside him on the log, leaning against him. Cietan blinked, a light flush coloring his cheeks. She felt warm. He liked it.

"Umm, hi?"

[fereldensheroesa]

@highteyrna asked:

“I have a method to my madness.” for Helena or Cullen!

"Mm, I wasn't too worried. I'm starting to learn that fighting things happening is far more effort than just letting it all happen." Brows knit. "Not that I let everything happen. I wouldn't just let the Blight happen, for instance. But weird things? Sure, it's whatever."

[skyheld]

@highteyrna asked: “Maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road.” / for shianni! | EPIC: THE MUSICAL | accepting

That's a pretty thought, Shianni thinks, not even pausing in her tiresome task of washing blood from the floorboards of the Tevinter hospice. A stupid, pretty thought, just right for a noble girl brought up with gold slippers and white ponies. Did she throw coins out the windows of her carriage when she passed by the slums, and watch as the poor scrabbled and fought in the dirt for them, feeling all generous? Or was she the rebellious kind of girl who ran barefoot through the fields, so the servants had to do three times the laundry for her while she thought herself above those other girls?

Then, taking a moment to straighten her back and brush her short hair out of her eyes, she looks at the Warden and remembers those slippers and ponies are probably ashes by now, and the servants may all be dead. They all heard of what happened to the Couslands. The messy outline at least, if not all the gory details — but she thinks she can probably guess at those. So maybe it isn't such a pretty thought. Maybe that hope is like Shianni's hope that the world is ultimately good: a tiny flame, struggling to stay alive when everything and everyone has tried to quench it.

Her shoulders fall then, her face softening. Her instinct is to snap, like a dog at someone's fingers because another's hand hurt it — but somewhere inside her is another instinct. Following that, she speaks her hope aloud. "I think that's true. I want to believe it. We have to, don't we? Otherwise it would be unbearable. To think kindness means nothing."

She bends her back, lowers her head over the brush and its moving again, scraping at the dark stain. Even with so many taken, and others killed in the purge, enough refugees have come from outside the city there won't be room for all of them. Someone will need this house, whatever its history.

Her hope falters, thinking of it. "It's not down the road we need kindness, though, it's now. If we have to hold out much longer, I'm afraid it'll be too little and too late."

[quiisquiliae]

@highteyrna for Talon

He was lucky, or so he supposed. It certainly wasn't skill that had led him to Gwaren after all, instead a rather adventurous romp through the Brecilian Forest. A run in with some stand-offish Dalish and a frantic pursuit by some walking trees later, he'd had quite enough of that and found himself in need of some proper food and a chance to breathe and regroup. It was safe to say his curiosity was satisfied, and he had no intentions of going through that ever again.

It was lucky he supposed, that he had turned the right direction down the Brecilian Passage towards a city. The dense canopy of the forest surrounding him made it difficult to determine which way was north, and after an unnervingly short amount of time, the rocks and trees all started to look the same. Truthfully he could probably feed himself by hunting, but his own cooking left much to be desired, and hunting with a dagger was much harder than he had expected. Acquiring a new bow and getting much more practice with it were towards the top of his to-do list.

Bandit danced next to him, the hustle and bustle putting him on edge while Talon walked through the marketplace, scoping it out. He had little coin, and was in need of a new job. Food was easy to steal, but a place for Bandit to rest and a new bow would require money. Perhaps he could steal some of that as well.

A negotiation with a stable owner later and an agreed upon three silver for the night in exchange for mucking stalls that evening, Talon was satisfied with his horse's lodging. Once the black stallion was cared for and settled, the boy took off towards the market, off in search of food and coin.

It didn't take long for him to spot a potential victim. A woman walking through the bustling market, dressed in clothes nicer than many. Talon wasn't keen on stealing from the poor if he could help it, knowing they were often little better off than he, but she seemed like a reasonable target. He tugged the hood of his coat over his head, concealing the face full of tattoos and distinct violet eyes before sidling up to her, bumping into her as he deftly slipped a hand into her pocket, hoping for a prize.

[storyhaunt-a]

" reckon i might miss this place. "

it would have been more cinematic and symbolic, amaris thinks, had they found themselves a top-side path to the underdark; somewhere shrouded in light, so they might feel the warmth of the sun's dying rays against their armored backs one last time before plunging themselves into the dark unknown. as it were, they will have to settle for the dim flicker of flames and stuffy cave-scent and the strange hair-raise sensation of watchful eyes (selûne's statues and tapestries seeming to stare through even his bones) to see them off. that, and the goblin stench that has bled straight through the floors and the ceilings and permeated this whole place. could always find themselves on worse paths, he supposes.

" you know we're coming back, right? " amaris asks @highteyrna with a sarcastic drawl. despite humored inflection, though, there is a note of self-assuredness to the tiefling's tone - as though he is completely and utterly certain that they will claw themselves from those looming depths eventually, one way or another. " well - maybe not here. don't think i want to come back here. but we'll reach topside again. eventually. maybe. we'll see. " and then, facing beatrize, amaris asks her with a raised brow, " would you like to do the honors? or are you going to throw the sorcerer to the spiders on this one? "

[playedbetter]

❛ Alive, last I checked. ❜ to Zevran!

Meme / Accepting!

A chuckle escapes him, honestly were he asked how he was doing at the moment, his answer would be nearly identical. What else is there to say? There's blight, every group they go to are in the midst of strife, and it was all up to them. All up to her and Alistair really in the end.

None of that he says though, there's no need. Instead he reaches for her wrist and feigns checking her pulse, his eyebrows knitting together as if there were any actual question. "Hmm, ah yes!" He pulls his hand back. "You do appear to be right, thankfully. I'd rather not check 'talk to the undead' off my bucket list yet,"

[krkwall]

via's champion of kirkwall; sabrina hawke of dragon age ii. highly selective & perpetually low activity. 21+ only. this is a sideblog that follows from @highteyrna. rules below the cut.

guidelines: general tumblr writing etiquette applies. zero tolerance policy on bigotry of any and all kinds. plotting is a two-way street; i expect effort to be invested and shared. do not follow me if you do not plan on writing with me. shipping is welcome, but chemistry and communication are required. if you wish to break mutuals, hard-block me.

interactions: memes are the best way to get the ball rolling, but I LOVE PLOTTING and getting to know my writing partner's character. i am open to exploring all sorts of dynamics ( platonic, romantic, familial, antagonistic, etc. ) never hesitate to send memes and break into my IMs to plot. for my mutuals only, you can add me on discord: sringvenkas ( please let me know who you are when you add me. )

about sabrina ( just some key things so far )

class: dual-wielder rogue ( primary specializations being assassin and shadow )

worked with athenril for one year to pay for her family's passage into kirkwall

strictly pro-mage

canon in-game romance is fenris, but i don't like to force-ship so this is very plot-dependent, though it might be mentioned in interactions.

personality is a mix of aggressive/direct and charming/humorous.

tba.

[quiisquiliae]

He shied away from her as she pulled his hood back, unable to do so fully as he was being held in place with her other hand. Arthur? He hadn't heard that one in awhile, and wasn't real keen on hearing it ever again truth be told.

Talon scowled, shoving his hands in his own pockets this time, unwilling to admit it. "Think we're both mistaken miss."

Truth be told, she looked familiar, though he couldn't quite place her. Quite frankly if she knew who he used to be, he didn't really want either of them to remember each other. There were precious few people he had fond memories of in general, and he could count on one hand how many were from when he was going by Arthur.

He was different now. A grown up, as far as he was concerned. Hair cut short with a knife, tattoos on his face, boots on his feet (though the soles were due for repair). Some things were the same though. Clothes were either too big or too small. His coat bought two sizes too big for him in anticipation of further growth spurts. Too-short pants were tucked into his boots to hide the fact he grew a few inches over the last couple months. A shirt a size too large, as he'd swiped it from a clothesline.

Something nagged at the back of his mind, but yet...

"Sorry for any trouble, I thought you were someone else."

there is no coin in beatrize's pockets, only treats for furdinand, her loyal mabari warhound, who just a few moments ago had been by her side, but saw it fit to chase a squirrel along the edge of the woods. time seems to slow when the stranger bumps into her ( as it always does when her instinct kicks in and she is suddenly very aware of every movement that happens in her immediate vicinity, every breath exhaled in her direction. ) beatrize is equally amused and surprised; no one in town has ever dared to rob their teyrna before ( they all recognize her by sight, and she likes to think the trading ports make enough profit these days that no one would likely resort to petty theft, unless they are motivated by reasons unrelated to gold. )

it can only mean one of two things; either this man is an enemy sent to compromise her, or he's someone who does not know her at all. beatrize acts, hand quick as a serpent, closing around the wrist of the would-be thief. there is no reprimand just yet in the cast of her gaze, but there's curiosity and self-satisfaction at the speed of her reflexes despite being out of practice. the teyrna of gwaren can feel the rest of the market looking at them, and she signals to her guards to halt a few feet away from her. she'll deal with this on her own.

"attempting to steal from me isn't a very wise thing to do." beatrize's amber eyes are level with his, though it's hard to see his face hidden under the hood. with her free hand, she pulls it back, and something snags in her memory. she knows this man. she's trying to rack her brain, wondering when and where she's seen him. and then it hits her like a punch in the gut. beatrize realizes she's wrong; she doesn't know this man at all, but she knows the boy he was. "arthur?" the last time they saw each other was in the chantry, in redcliffe, the day she had to help the townsfolk stem the rapid flow of horrific darkspawn. those violet eyes struck her as unique back then, and it's starting back at her right now. "do you remember me?" beatrize asks, letting go of his hand. "do you know who i am?"