#lady archanist

[varvargartwork]

Another fanart piece of a Warcraft lady ^.^ High Archanist Thalyssra this time. Drawn with Copics and W&N Brushmarkers.

[incorrectkingkillerquotes]

An Inn in the Middle of Newarre

Elxa Dal: Class, I'm excited to introduce our next motivational speaker, a former student of mine, who I am sure you are all very familiar with. He is a master of sympathy, a world renowned archanist, a musician without limits, and all around hero!!! He is here today to present to you a few life tips. May I present to you, KVOTHE!!!

Class: *applause*

Elxa Dal: His speech is called Go For It. And I really think he will make a big impact on you guys!! 

Kote: Actually, it’s Kote now, I’ve renamed myself after the disaster I am and my life as become. Alright, how is everybody? Now let me tell you what my life is about. First up, I am 25 years old, I am divorced, and I live in an inn on the middle of Newarre. 

Now, you kids are probably saying to yourself, “Now, I’m gonna go out, and I’m gonna get the world by the tail, and wrap it around and put it in my pocket!!” Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re probably gonna find out, as you go out there, that you’re not gonna amount to Jack Squat!!” You’re gonna end up eating a steady diet of government cheese, and living in a inn in the middle of Newarre!!! Now, young man, what do you want to do with your life?

Student: I.. actually, Kote.. I kinda wanna be a writer..

Kote: You sure you want to be a writer? You want to be a WRITER? Let me tell you something about writers. Writers are BROKE. They all live in an INN in the middle of NEWARRE.[ turns to another student ] Young lady, what do you want to do with your life?!

Another student: I want to live in an inn in the middle of Newarre. 

Kote: Well, you’ll have plenty of time to live in a inn in the middle of Newarre when you’re.. [ tries to be clever ] ..living in an inn in the middle of Neawrre! Now, you kids are probably asking yourself, “Hey, Kote, how can we get back on the right track?!” Well, the answer is YOU CAN’T. You are DOOMED. Education is too expensive and it will put you in debt and no one will hire anyone they legally have to pay more. You will all die after living short lives you spend in an inn in the middle of Newarre. 

*crickets* 

Kote: Anyways, if you guys want some weed, I’ve got some in my van. I could use the cash. 

[searchpartydnd]

Final Session of Arc 1, Fate Touched

Session 10:

Inveni Domus, otherwise known as The Search Party, is a group of five skilled individuals who are dedicating their time to recovering the Novus Designs. These ancient artifacts were some of the first magical items ever created, only ever brought together once in recorded history by the circle of eight, the founding fathers of modern magic (ie Bigby, Volo, Modenkainen, Otiluke, etc.). Their main goal is to ultimately stop Lady Cecilia, a powerful entity who claims she is a god, from obtaining any of the designs to use for her own unpleasant purposes. 

Current Party Members: 

Avaar Acosta - High Elf Arcane Archer

Calladyne - Half-Elf Glamour Bard

Dixillion Ramada - Human Revenant Champion Fighter

Val Ganderstim - Aasimar Warlock of the Raven Queen

Veir Torunn - Dwarven Gunslinger

Artifacts recovered: 2

Turmoil on the Tundra

It’s the dead of winter up in the icy plains that encircle the peaks of Lyrengorn. The party had just recovered Cepheus, the Shroud of Tears, The Second. The clasp, created by the pre-ascended Raven Queen, is now worn by Val, who has just fucked up.

Like, big time.

The party had been in Bigby’s tower, stumbling through weird gravity, hacking desperately at enormous mimics, and getting stomped on by powerful constructs in bath houses. They eventually reached Bigby’s study, recovering the item as well as the wizard’s personal journal. Reading through, they had found more information about other Novus Designs and one was mentioned to be a bow. 

Most party members immediately looked to Avaar, as she seemed a likely candidate to wield it. However, Avaar expressed her dislike to take on another magical item that was going to attract the attention of undesirables. 

Avaar, prior to meeting the party, had willingly put on armor owned by a man named Lucidious. She soon found out, however, that she could not remove the armor and that the wearer had to obey all of their master’s commands. Lucidious turned out to be a massive evil dick and turned Avaar’s life into a living nightmare, forcing her to do terrible things, making her work for evil organizations.

Lucidious was killed in an attack, leaving Avaar free of him, but not of the armor. She came to Tal’dorei and joined up with Inveni Domus, eventually revealing to her friends the curse she had to live with. In an fight with Hags, Avaar was left greatly injured and mentally scarred, going into a nightmarish coma. Later, after she awoke and helped the party fend of Queen Cecilia’s lackeys, the armor began to break and chip away, finally getting fully removed when the party realized the magic binding it to Aavar was no longer there.

After Avaar had understandably voiced her distaste to take on another magical item, Val, on an rather unkind impulse, had commented “Well, you did wear that armor for a while,” implying that the arcane archer had also attracted unwanted attention and terrible things in her time enslaved to Lucidious. 

Avaar just walked out. Dixie gave chase, while Calladyne followed more slowly. Val stayed behind to help Veir gather the items they needed before heading out into the Tundra. A blizzard was approaching on the horizon.

Calladyne reprimanded Val for the comment, pointing out how the 16-year-old had been rather unkind to the group and really needed to re-examine how she treated her friends.

Val, still desperate to apologize, ran off to find Dixie and Avaar. When she caught up, Avaar snapped at the Warlock.

“You don’t think I don’t know what I have done? I have to live with that guilt every day!” (I’m paraphrasing here) “Is this how you treat your friends? Grow up Val!”

The blizzard finally hit the party, making it hard to see. They discuss whether or not to take shelter in Bigby’s tower or make the trek back to Lyrengorn. They don’t get the chance to decide was a massive form dashed past, scooping up Val in the process.

Two Yetis, attracted by the very loud noises we were making, decided to pay us a visit. 

For the first half of the battle, Val was basically a football, getting thrown about and used as a bludgeoning weapon. 

They were able to defeat the Yetis due to a well timed Hypnotic Pattern by Calladyne. 

Licking their wounds, the party headed back for Lyrengorn, trading their winter cloths for garments more suited for tropical weather. Avaar and Dixie head off together to find out more information from the Archdruid of the main temple in the sanctuary while Veir, Calladyne, and Val head off on seperate business. 

Avaar and Dixie speak with the head ArchDruid, asking about the Winter Court in the Feywilde (of which they believe Calladyne was part of). Yura says it is a nasty topic, and that the queen is the nastiest topic of that court. The Archdruid describes her as cold and vicious, and that she is a dangerous entity to have as an enemy. Calladyne spends time at a shrine to the Archeart, a god that she once worshipped before she was taken into a Fey court. Unsure of her belief in gods, she asks for guidance of some kind. She feels nothing, but she later discovers a new line at the end of her newest song.

Val goes to inform the airship captain that they found what they were looking for, only to instead receive word that the archanist (Allura Vysoren) they were originally going to visit in Vasselheim had shown up in Whitestone. Lord and Lady De Rolo had informed her of the party’s activities and intent, causing the mage to contact the entire Arcana Pansophical and bring the matter to their attention. They are to leave in the morning and head directly for Vasselheim, instead of going to Emon and then charter a ship to the holy city.

Val goes to the hostel where they were staying to inform the group of this new change, but finds only Calladyne (Performing Cherry Wine). After passing along the information, Val says she is going to sleep in the airship for the night, to get out of the party’s way. Calla says the party wouldn’t mind, but understands if Val was uncomfortable. Before Val leaves, Calladyne says she wants to talk later, when everyone’s heads are clearer.

Veir heads off into the city in search of something, but the party does not know what happens until later.

As night takes the sanctuary city, Calladyne performs for the people, garnering many new fans after another stunning performance (and raising her fame stat to 13). Avaar was also able to glean some more backstory about Veir’s past, learning that his drive was to prove the capability of firearms and, by extension, himself.

Calladyne and Avaar (they are an item) share an intimate moment that night and Avaar tells Calladyne that she’s been looking into the Feywilde so that she can help the bard if her past ever comes back. Calladyne sees the effort put in to helping her / saving her and breaks down, recognizing that she might actually be free from the Archfey and Her illusions. Calla tells her lover everything that happened to her while she was in the Feywilde in the court of a sadistic archfey. The full extent of these terrible events are secret for now, but who knows when they may come spilling out.

The party departed on the small De Rolo airship they had arrived in the next morning. For two weeks they traveled, and for two weeks, there were some shenanigans and conversations to be had.

Apparently, on his short trip around the city, Veir had acquired magical eye gear that allowed him to read multiple languages. He needed them in order to properly read Bigby’s journal, which was written in several different languages.

Avaar wasn’t ready to deal with it.

He also made a kite for some reason.

It wasn’t very well crafted.

Calladyne was able to finally pull Val aside for their talk, mentioning a certain incident that had occurred in Whitestone.

Long story short, emotions were running high when baby Vax was taken, so when the council member who had betrayed the royal family refused to answer any questions regarding the organization she worked for, Val had gotten…trigger happy.

After another refusal to comply, even though the warlock was threatening to kill the woman and use her pact of the tome ability that allowed the questioning of a soul, Val shot off eldritch blasts into the Myriad member’s chest, killing the bound captive. She asked her question and through the fast action of Calladyne, the present party members were able to revivify the woman.

Val had never killed someone is cold blood before. She hadn’t even considered it until Calladyne had pointed it out. Additionally, Calladyne mentioned similar things happening to her (being killed and revived) on multiple occasions, though she doesn’t specify further. This led to some very troubled thoughts and inner turmoil for the young Aasimar.

“I’m afraid of snakes.” Those were the first words Avaar addressed Val with since their confrontation outside of Bigby’s tower.

“When my siblings and I would fight, we’d make up by telling each other a secret about ourselves,” Avaar explained.

Val admitted she didn’t like dressing like a goth, which she had been doing since she was twelve. She preferred her current Valkyrie look over the dark aesthetic she had thought all Raven Queen took up.

Later, as the airship neared Vasselheim, Calla and Avaar shared a talk about fate. Avaar refuses to believe in it, not trusting her life in the hands of a god, preferring that her past was controlled solely by her own actions. Calla confessed that she believed the opposite, that they were destined to be on this path. She told Avaar she’d rather die a martyr than live as a survivor.

Vasselheim in view now, the party finds that the artifacts they currently have react in the presence of one another, becoming more active and magically charged. Dixie’s hand has also begun to glow, shining brighter and brighter the closer the party neared the city.

Landing just outside the city, Val is practically jumping for joy, excited to finally officially commune with her patron and show her friends around the city she was trained in not too long ago.

Dixie and Calla head off to the Platinum Sanctuary first, the scale on Dixie’s hand shining brighter as they approached Bahamut’s center of worship.

Dixie met the dragon god who resurrected her, confused and conservative about her true feelings towards her current relationship with the god of justice. 

Mad props to our DM @its-okay-to-yowz​ because he made one hell of a scary dragon god when he began screaming “DON’T LIE TO ME DIXILLION!”

Through a bit more prodding, The Platinum Dragon was able to get his revenant to embrace her desire for vengeance. They rounded out their conversation almost like coach psyching up their player for a game.

Dixie is now a Champion Fighter with one level in Paladin.

Veir ventured off to go gather supplies while Avaar was dragged along by Val to the Duskmeadow. 

Upon approaching the steps, the doors are opened for the pair and Val’s raven flies off, leading them to the pool of blood deep in the temple. Val won’t shut up, voicing her previous frustration that the priests wouldn’t let her into the communion room before. Avaar is visibly nervous about the whole process, despite Val’s assurances that everything is going to be fine.

Shedding some clothing, Val tells Avaar that things might get wonky with time and she may be going for a while before practically swan diving into the pool of icy blood.

Val still has to come to very cusp of death in order to see her patron, so it takes her a moment to work up the will to actively drown herself. Avaar watches as the surface where Val disappeared gets violently disturbed after a minute, showing obvious signs of someone drowning, but she holds herself back as the blood eventually stills. No body floats to the top.

Val finds herself in the same dark space she usually sees in her dreams, her Raven on the floor in front of her. Normally, it would either speak as her Patron or become her Patron, but this time it transforms into a man. It’s Vax.

He beckons the warlock and she follows excitedly, heading into the blackness, seemingly going nowhere.

Eventually, the ground becomes smooth obsidian granite and a doorway appears. Vax turns to Val.

“No matter what happens, you should know that she is so proud of you.” He presses a simple black bracelet of woven thread into her hand before Val steps inside. 

Val enters the Raven Queen’s throne room, a chamber made of shifting shadows. The Goddess herself is in her smaller form, appearing more humanoid as she welcomes Val. 

(The order as to what was said here is a bit wonky, but the details are there.)

The Matron of Ravens tells Val that she is glad to finally speak with her, noting how Val is wearing her clasp, and that she and the other gods have seen something on the horizon that they can’t make out. The strings of fate have blurred. She explains that in her desperation to find a candidate to enforce her hand in the conflict to come, she chose the young Aasimar, much to young at the time to be burdened with such a task. She apologized to Val for how things were, but Val just replied “I’m used to it. This is what I want to do. I chose to follow you on my own, it was my decision to make.” 

The Raven Queen removed her mask at that point, revealing her true face to a now crying Val. She whispered her name to her warlock, locking the secret into the back of the teenager’s mind. Val knows the name, it’s within her, but she doesn’t actually have to means to recall it or speak it. She just carries with her the knowledge that she knows the name.

Val finds out from her Goddess that there were five fate touched that the Gods were scrambling to get a hold of, Val among them. It is implied that the others are the members of Inveni Domus.

Val apologized for not upholding the values she was supposed to embody in Whitestone, to which the Raven Queen agrees that it was a most undesirable action that should never occur again. 

The Raven Queen warns again that there are dark times ahead, that she is fearful of not being able to see where the threads are leading. Val tells her that she’ll shine some light on the matter. RQ tells Val to go get ‘em (or something the writer will be editing this later) to which Val says “You know I will.” 

Feathers.

Cut to six hours later. Avaar has been worried sick, curing fate and the Raven Queen, afraid for the youngest party member. Val bursts out of the pool, yelling for Avaar. Helping the teen out of the pool, Avaar asks what happened. Val tells her all about the meeting (leaving out certain, more private bits), trying to dispel Avaar’s worry.

Avaar, however, is not convinced, still apprehensive to trust a God who chose a 16-year-old to be her champion. Val tells her that she doesn’t think she is her goddess’s champion, that the man she met in the meeting was the holder of that title.

Avaar asked what happened to him. Val’s response was not comforting. (bottom right corner doodle in previous picture.

So we close, zooming out from the five fate touched as they attend to their various activities. 

A Fate Forged in Iron (Veir)

A Fate of Vengeance (Dixie)

A Fate Embraced (Calladyne)

A Fate Looking Ahead  (Val)

A Fate Redeemed (Avaar) 

 author’s note :The crazy thing is, we all developed our backstories and characters separately, having no knowledge of what anyone was planning. @its-okay-to-yowz wanted us to all be fate touched from the very start, even before we created characters, as we had all been brought together by chance at GenCon and through a couple of chance meetings and well timed inquiries. 

He created a Novas Design made by the Raven Queen even he knew that Val was going to be a Warlock of hers. Our character colors all match up. Tony was able to take elements of our backstories and weave them together. Calla and Avaar both went through similar stories of trauma and abuse, bonding over their shared struggles. It was meant to be the whole time, and we had no idea. Tony just sat back and watched us flounder about and struggle to grasp how perfect our stories were and how well everything fit together.

Thus the first arc as named Fate Touched.

[kryssiesbookofselfinserts]

Ha... I thought of K’lyhhia being a tad sad because she knows Thancred’s popular with the ladies and she’d wondering if she’s even worthy of being around him?? Like, she was an Archanist before she went Scholar. She’s peak nerdy bookworm with heads full of theories and interest in history and magic.

She dresses mostly plain and and for comfort and doesn’t really do fashion unless her quest rewards add up to a matching set. She’s not the talking type and would rather read than talk to people, but she’s breaking out of her shell from necessity.

So it consistently baffles her that Thancred seems so charmed by her?? That when she looks at him she sees something like love in his eyes?? She doesn’t know why he likes her so much but she just wants to be good enough for him!! T^T

[novemberocean]

Fracture In Reverse CH. 6

AO3

ch1

Chapter Six: Scars

Peter examined himself in the mirror. He had removed the bandages to examine the scars. There were divots where the lyrium had protruded from his flesh, there probably always would be. He tried not to look at his face. That would probably never grow back either. He still favored his left leg, but at least he could stand up straight now. Well, straight enough.  

He still hurt, pains that feel like the crystals bristling under his skin. The Archanist said a lot of things about the red, its regrowth rate, why he would need regular checkups, and most importantly, why it would never truly go away. He didn't really understand a lot of it, but he got the gist; He would never be fully free of it. 

Still, he didn't hear the song anymore, and he didn't serve as a nightlight. His mind was wonderfully clear now, he liked to remember his alphabet, and count backwards from high numbers. Most importantly, he remembered Her, and that he needed to find her. But to find her, he needed help. 

Pulling on a shirt, he exited his room to go find Lace. They had kept him in a closet when he had been toxic. Now, he had his own room in the keep. The Inquisitor was a very generous person. 

Lace was sitting outside of the Herald's Rest, enjoying an apple. Her face brightened when he approached. Her scar seemed to shrink when she smiled. He wondered if his scars would ever look as at home on his face as hers did. 

"Hey," she greeted him with a wave. 

"Hi..." Peter said. Talking didn't hurt like it used to, his mouth wasn't confused and his head didn't hurt when he tried to think about sentences. It was slow going though. Like thinking around a head of molasses. 

"How are you feeling?" Lace asked. 

"Bruised..." Peter said, subconsciously touching his chest and the scars concealed under his shirt. "I need... The Inquisitor." He continued, haltingly. Lace frowned. 

"Okay." She looked like she wanted to ask questions, but held her tongue. 

"And... You," Peter added, in case she missed his implication. Lace's furrowed brows shot up in surprise. 

"Me?" She asked. Peter just nodded. After a moment of the two of them just standing there, Peter gestured towards the main hall. 

"Oh! You mean now," she said sheepishly. Peter gave her a tiny smile. His face let him do that now, mostly. 

The two headed up the stairs in the direction of the war room. Lace chatted about a new arrow trick she had picked up from one of the Inquisitor's companions. Peter liked when Lace talked to him. Or at him, as he wasn't very good at holding his end of the conversation yet. 

Lace pushed the door to the war room open and they slunk in. Commander Cullen had been speaking but stopped when he caught sight of Peter. The commander didn't like Peter. Peter couldn't blame him. Peter didn't even like Peter. 

The Inquisitor on the other hand, smiled brightly at the two of them. 

"Hello, friends, how can we be of assistance?" She asked amiably. 

"Need... Help," Peter swallowed nervously. 

"Obviously," the Commander muttered and the Inquisitor shot him a glare. 

"Help... Finding someone," Peter elaborated. 

"Who?" The spymaster asked immediately. 

"I don't... Know," Peter admitted. The Commander snorted. 

"Great, we'll get right to it." 

"Perhaps you should start at the beginning, Peter," the Inquisitor suggested, shooting another glare at her commander. 

So Peter told them, about his dreams, about how he had come to be aware of himself again, and about his gut feeling that he had to find whoever she was. It took the better part of an hour, but no one interrupted him, not even the commander. 

When he was finished, the golden lady sighed. 

"That's not much to go on, is it? Long brown hair?" 

"That's not anything to go on," the spymaster said bluntly. 

"We don't even know if she still wears it long," the Inquisitor chewed on her thumbnail. "All we know is that she's a woman." 

"Perhaps we would have better luck finding people who knew Peter before," the commander suggested. Peter blinked at him. "We have an idea where he came from, we don't even know that about this mystery woman." 

"That's an excellent idea," the golden lady said, scribbling on her notepad. 

"Hold on," Lace interrupted. "What makes you think anyone one who knew him is still, um, alive?" 

"It's a lead," the Inquisitor shrugged. "I'll take what we can get frankly." 

Peter stared at her, unmoving. He didn't know what he thought about learning more about his past. He couldn't go back, even if he had a home to go back to. He wasn't the same as he had been. Going back would only hurt anyone involved. 

But if it found Her... He had to do it.

--

Lace felt a little bit out of place in the war room, as the big people talked strategy. She didn't have anything pertinent to add. If they wanted her to shoot the head off a Venatori at 100 paces, she's your dwarf. She wasn't even sure what she was doing there. She had only found Peter. The fact she and Peter got along well wasn't a reason to include her in planning sessions. 

Then Peter looked down at her. It was only for a second, and only Lace could have seen it from that angle. But for a second, Peter looked well and truly scared. Without thinking, she reached out to give his hand a squeeze. She was going to release his hand, but Peter held tight. So they stood there, holding hands while the leaders of the inquisition made plans for his future. Whatever it may be.

[teacup-of-stars]

Best Laid Plans

Pairing: Kima x Allura

Genre/Warnings: Hurt/comfort, romance, fluff, F/F pairing

Words: 3370

           Summary: Allura has a plan. Life does not seem to care.

Sometimes I write things. Sometimes I like them enough to post them.

Lady Allura Vysoren, archanist of Emon took another look around her chambers to assure everything was in proper order. She had been planning this for months, and nothing, nothing, was going to ruin what was going to be the perfect evening. Her girlfriend was due home shortly, in fact could arrive at any moment and she couldn't be more excited. Kima had been away a mere two weeks, practically no time at all in their long history together but having her away for any length of time left Allura with a gaping sense of not quite being whole until the warrior returned home. A glance around their chambers revealed everything to be set as she wanted it: dinner was nearly finished, a collection of their favorite foods- enough to fill them but not enough to quell any...amorous urges they had after her surprise that night-, the softest and warmest blankets they owned on the bed-freshly washed and enough of them to sufficiently cover her Halfling who despised cold more than Allura thought it was physically possible to hate something, a fire stoked with a pile of firewood waiting, two bottles of wine pulled from the cellar-Kima didn't particularly care what she drank and had said as much on more than one occasion but Allura like wine and Kima liked making Allura happy.

The whole chamber was cleaned and organized- Allura's desks and laboratory cleaned off completely so nothing could disturb or distract them that night, and finally, sitting in a plain but lovely wooden box on the dresser near the bed, Kima's ring. Allura had briefly given thought to waiting for Kima to ask for her hand as the Halfling tended to take a bit more charge in their relationship (as she did in most areas of her life) before resolving to doing it herself. For all that she was wonderful and Allura's everything, Kima was dense in some ways, still believing however many years later that she wasn't good enough for Allura, that Allura could do better which was downright appalling to the archanist. To Allura it was Kima, strong, brave, loyal, devote Kima who could do better. Kima who could dead-lift someone twice her size without so much as breaking a sweat, who was a champion of the dragon, a warrior Paladin of Vengeance who protected and fought for those around her with such reckless abandon that Allura was often in awe of her. Kima who was all glorious muscle and bright eyes and teasing smiles, who loved Allura with every ounce of herself so intensely that often the blonde felt like she was struggling to give her back a fraction of what she received in return. Kima who-in Allura's humble opinion-could have any woman she wanted, had chosen Allura. Tall, awkward, gangly Allura, who was all arms and legs and stubbornness, who babbled when nervous and got overly excited about things most people didn't care about in the slightest. Bookworm Allura who blushed to easily and drank more coffee than was healthy, who forgot to do things like sleep and eat when she was reading, who wasn't a fighter, not really. She could hold her own if she absolutely needed to but battle made her stomach twist unpleasantly. Allura who trusted too easily and left books laying around everywhere and sometimes kept Kima up far later than she should have working on a spell that didn't even work in the end. Kima had chosen her with all her faults and every time she looked up at her Allura felt her heart melt and her stomach flip and she had woken up two months ago and decided enough was enough, she wanted Kima as her wife and was going to make it happen.

Thus began her search for the ring that currently laid in the box on the dresser. Allura went and opened it to assure herself it was still there (it was, she had checked it no less that 8 times this evening). The ring itself was plain, fitting it wearer, just a platinum band, no embellishments, no stones, just silver in color and small enough to fit the Halfling's tiny finger. Allura had had it made and when it arrived she had gone to Shaun and (after swearing him to absolute secrecy) they had spent the better part of the past two months enchanting it and inlaying it with every protection spell they could find. Every spell Allura felt Kima could need during a battle, every boost of strength and healing- no matter how small- got poured into the ring. Allura pocketed it in her blue and gold silk gown (the one she knew Kima liked her in) and took a deep steadying breath.

She expected to be nervous but all she felt was contentment and a sense of finality and eagerness for Kima to return home so they could begin their evening together. She sat down on one of the chairs by the table and toyed with the ring box in her pocket for a moment before she heard the knocker downstairs. Allura kept her pace brisk but tried to remain calm to not spoil or give away anything. (Kima could sense when something was even slightly off with Allura and had ways of pulling the information out from her). SHe opened the door with a creak and her stomach sank when she saw Shaun standing there, forehead wrinkled in concern, a small figure in his arms, head lolling bonelessly. Allura clamped a hand over he mouth before Shaun brought Kima inside, reassuring her before she had a chance to fully panic, "She's all right. Or she will be all right. I found her trying to get back home. She's lost some blood but I got a blood replenishing potion and few healing droughts in her. She's just going to need a few days to recover."

Kima lifted her head weakly to glare at him, "I can speak for myself you know."

Allura's mouth pinched with worry and she rushed them inside the bedroom, instructing Shaun to lay Kima on the table often used for when one or the other (mostly one over the other) needed healing. Once Kima was down Allura fully looked her over and her stomach and heart dropped before twisting unpleasantly. Kima looked bad, certainly she had looked worse, but nevertheless she looked bad. She seemed to be having trouble even keeping her head up and a cut on her forehead was bleeding sluggishly. She coughed once and didn't quite manage to hide the wince and gasp when she did. The rest of her body was covered by her armor so Allura couldn't quite measure the level of damage but the armor itself was scuffed and blood-splattered and had a dent in the chest that made her heart do a little dance of worry. Allura looked at Shaun and tried to keep her voice was wavering as best she could, "Please tell me its not that bad because to me it looks bad."

Kima scoffed and coughed again with a wince, "You should see the other guy."

Allura sank down to press a kiss to Kima's hair, "Hush. Just please, hush."

Shaun gave her a gentle smile, "It looks worse than it is. I promise you. A few broken ribs, some blood loss I already took care of, that head wound might need some stitches, and she's getting sick."

Kima glared up at them weakly, "I'm right here. I can hear both of you," She turned her head and coughed with a wince again, "I'm fine Allie. Just ran into some trouble on the way home, was very briefly out-numbered. Couple broken ribs, knocked my shoulder out of place, couple cuts and scraped but I'm fine. I've had way worse, you know this."

She coughed again and it left her breathless for a moment before she winced. Allura smooth some of the hair back from Kima's face and pressed their foreheads together despite the blood still dripping down from her hairline, "You have to stop coming home to me like this."

Kima managed to lift a hand and run it over Allura's cheek, "Sorry Allie."

Allura closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, "Shaun can you bring me one of the potions for pain from my desk. And start some tea. I need to stitch this cut."

Kima closed her eyes and seemed to focus on breathing for a moment, "There may be another one on my chest. Hit between the armor sections."

Allura nodded and tried to keep herself from crying and she waved her hand, arcane energy bringing a needle and thread to her without having to move herself, "You're sick."

Kima's eyes stayed closed and her voice was tired and quiet, "Rained a lot. Temperature dropped too."

Allura set about cleaning the head wound with boiling water and cloth Shaun seemed to pull from nowhere. He hands shook as she threaded the needle and Gilmore gently plucked from her hands, "I'll stitch, you get her armor off."

Allura nodded and set about removing her girlfriend's chest plate and gauntlets first, trying to keep focused on the task at hand and not bursting into tears. Kima, on her part didn't protest or even open her eyes, which worried Allura more. The Halfling seemed to be focused on breathing shallowly and avoiding coughing as much as possible. As the chest plate came off fully revealing the chain mail underneath Allura sighed, "Love I need to sit you up, need to get the chain mail off you."

Kima's voice was quiet, "Not sure if that's going to happen without help."

Allura lifted her from behind, one arm fully supporting her shoulders, "This may hurt. Are you ready?"

Kima's voice was tight, "No. Do it anyway."

Allura couldn't withhold her own wince and Kima sharp intake of breath as the mail shirt was lifted, causing her shoulders to shift. The ragged tunic underneath was soaked through with a mixture of rain, blood, and sweat and Allura could clearly see where it was sticking to the chest wound Kima had mentioned. Gilmore (who had finished with Kima's head while Allura was distracted) began to thread another needle preemptively as Allura cut it off down the middle, exposing Kima's torso, bare except for her breast-band. Sure enough, across the upper part of her chest was a slice deep enough to scar reaching from left collarbone to come to a stop just before her right breast. The cut was far too close to Kima's neck for Allura's liking and she said as much, beginning to clean it as she worried at her lower lip. The wound itself was deep but not particularly wide however there was a grey color to the edges of it that was cause for concern, "Kima...did this have poison in it?"

Kima nodded weakly, eyes still closed, "Orc party. Already took what I needed to for it. Healed what I could. Not dangerous just making things heal slow."

Allura felt the damn holding the tears back begin to crack and a few tears slipped down her face, "What am I going to do with you?"

Kima opened one eye and looked around the room, taking in the freshly made bed, warm fire going, and general cleanliness of their chambers and her face fell, "Allie...shit...I'm sorry. You had a plan didn't you? Dinner, time together for when I came back and I fucked it up."

Allura cut her off with a gentle kiss and Shaun began to stitch the chest wound causing Kima to noticeably wince, "Hush. You're fine. I just worry about you. You always seem to return to me...less than whole."

Kima's eyes were bleary but her voice came out stronger than it had been previously, "You had a whole evening planned, I'm sure of it. I know you. And I come home bleeding everywhere and ruining it for you and-fuck it Shaun that hurt!"

Gilmore murmured a soft apology and went to retrieve the bandages he had gather for Allura. The archanist pressed a kiss to Kima's scalp with a sigh and sniffle, "It's nothing that can't wait. You're home, you're alive. That's all I truly care about. Everything else can..."

She trailed off and looked up as Shaun handed her a roll of bandages with a judgmental raised eyebrow. Allura looked down at Kima whose eyes had closed again before coughing roughly and wincing, "Bahamut's left hairy testicle that fucking hurt. Remind me to never break ribs and get a cough at the same time again."

Shaun raised an eyebrow elegantly, "Bahamut's what now? Why only the left one?"

Kima weakly sent him a rude gesture, out of breath from pain and coughing and Allura made a decision, "Perfect night be damned. Shaun will you give us a moment?"

Kima opened one eye warily, "I don't know if I want him leaving yet. I feel like I'm going to get yelled at."

Gilmore rose to his feet gracefully and went to other side of room to the laboratory table, "I'll mix up something for the pain and something we can put into a tea for that cough. You ladies play nice."

Allura waited until he was far enough away, back turned to at least give them the illusion of privacy, "I had an evening planned for us for when you returned because I wanted to do something."

Kima winced but not from pain, her eyes open and guilt ridden, "I'm sorry Allie. I didn't think, I rushed in and you put thought into this and I ruined it for you and-"

Allura shut her up with a gentle finger to her lips, "Evening be damned. You're home and more or less whole. That's good enough for me. If I constantly wait for the perfect moment it will never happen and this moment is as perfect as any because you're here and you're home."

Allura removed the box from her pocket and opened it so Kima could see. There was a long moment of silence before Kima snorted, "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Allura's stomach fell to her feet, "I-I just-"

Kima cut her off with a smile, "Go inside my scabbard. On the floor, under the holy avenger. Black velvet bag."

Allura's heart thumped hopefully as she did what she was told. Sure enough, tucked into a small, secret pocket in the scabbard was a small black velvet bag that she removed. Kima's eyes fluttered and she closed them for a moment, clearly exhausted, "Open it."

Allura gently dumped the contents into her palm and gasped. A gold ring, possibly the most beautiful ring she had ever seen fell into her hand. A thin gold band with a very decent sized blue diamond in the center, cut into the shape of a heart, flanked by four smaller sapphires sparkled back at her as she looked at with trembling hands, "Kima...is this-"

Kima nodded, eyes opened again, "Took my forever to come up with something that suited you. You're always talking about how gold and blue are your favorite colors."

She was right, they were. For years they had been silver and blue but one look at Kima in that shining gold had instantly changed that for her.

Kima continued, "Shaun helped me out with the design. Wanted it to be perfect enough for you. He helped me put a protection spell in it. Blessed it myself too."

Allura's head whipped around to look at Gilmore who was watching them with a mischievous smile. When he caught he gaze, he shrugged one shoulder, "I was sworn to secrecy."

Allure couldn't help but laugh wetly, eyes already filling with tears. Kima smiled at her before attempting to push herself into a sitting position. Allura immediately went to support her with a noise of displeasure, "You shouldn't be-"

Kima gave her a look, "Like hell I'm doing this laying down."

Her Halfling took a minute to settle herself, eyes closed as she fought down a cough and the pain before looking Allura in the eye and holding out her hand for Allura's own larger one, "Lady Allura Vysoren, Allie. My Allie. Light of my life, will you do me the honor or marrying me even though you could do so much better?"

Allura nodded, not even bothering to withhold her tears anymore, "Only if you, Lady Kima of Vord, War Paladin of Vengeance, servant of the Platinum Dragon, champion of heart will marry me."

Kima rolled her eyes, "Of course."

Allura beamed, "Put it on me?" She handed her the ring which Kima slid gently over Allura's finger, "It's beautiful Kima. It must have cost you a fortune."

Kima's eyes were soft, "You're worth it."

Allura felt a blush creeping up her cheeks and she removed Kima's ring from the box, "I know it isn't very ornate but you're not the ornate type. I wanted something simple you could wear that you'd like because you're in battle and something gaudy just isn't you and it seemed distracting but it's just platinum because that seemed fitting what with your order and all but I inlaid it with protection spells and such that Shaun helped me with and-"

Kima kissed her firmly to shut her up before pulling away to cough sharply, "You were babbling."

Allura blushed, "Sorry."

Kima's hand still hadn't let go of Allura's hand she put the ring on, calloused fingers gently, ever so gently rubbing the top of hers seemingly without noticing she was even doing it. Allura slipped the ring out of the box, letting it clatter to the floor so she didn't have to remove her other hand from Kima's hold, "Can I put it on you?"

Kima's smile was so soft and Allura couldn't help the trill of excitement go through her as she slipped the ring over her fiancee's finger. Kima drew in a sharp breath before exhaling slowly, face peaceful as her eyes fell closed, "It feels like you. It's...perfect."

Allura pressed her forehead to Kima's, mindful of the bandages and carded her finger gently though her hair, "I love you. I love you and I'm going to marry you."

The was a moment of silence before Gilmore spoke from the sidelines, "Forget every romance novel I ever read, reality is so much better."

Allura glared at him halfheartedly, "You knew about the ring."

"Of course Darling."

Allura smiled, "And you didn't tell?"

Gilmore looked scandalized, "I would never. I was sworn to secrecy by both of you and I would never break that trust...plus I totally wanted to see how this turned out and I have to say it was better than I had ever dreamed."

Kima's eyes slipped closed again with a sigh that turned to a cough bringing Allura back to the present, "I'm going to get that tea. You're going to drink that and a potion, you're going to have some soup and then we are going to cuddle in front of the fire while you sleep."

Kima smiled, "As you wish my Lady."

Later that night, the sky dark, rain beginning to pitter-patter against the windows, steadily picking up speed and ferocity the newly engaged couple was curled on the bed, fire still going. Kima's head was in Allura's lap, unclothed and breathing deeply as she slept. Allura, in her night shift, was flipping through a book as she absent-mindedly stroked her hand over her Halfling's head, eyes more focused on the ring on her left hand than the book she was pretending to read. She was startled out of her gazing by Kima's voice, "I'm going to marry you."

Allura looked down at Kima's glassy eyes, the cough having turned to a mild fever and chills, "Yes. Yes you are. We're going to get married. Just us and a witness and nothing will stop us because I-"

Kima cut her off with a sleepy, cheeky grin as she reached up with her ringed hand to stroke her new fiancee's cheek, "I know."

Allura couldn't help but grin back and press a kiss to Kima's palm, "You know."

[dancerwrites]

Familiar Faces

Day 2 (yes, I know it’s late) of CritRole RS week is complete, with Shaun Gilmore & Lady Kima of Vord, who ended up being an interesting challenge to write for. Hope you enjoy!

(Set after Episode 45 - “Those Who Walk Away”)

Summary:  Something about this Gilmore fellow reminds Kima of Allura. It's strangely comforting. Words: 1.2k [AO3]

Kima slammed her warhammer into the side of a wooden training dummy, the thud of the metal and the splintering of wood doing little to chase away the worry and fear that was eating away at her chest. She had been in Whitestone for only a short while, and while Keyleth had scryed on Allura and said she appeared to be safe, there was a consistent nagging doubt that was only fueled by the knowledge that things could change at any moment.

Dragons were fucking terrifying, Kima had learned. Especially ancient red ones. And though she knew Allura and Drake were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, she couldn't help appealing to Bahamut with each strike she landed on the effigy before her.

“Let them- return-” she muttered, taking a breath before landing another series of blows on the dummy. “And give me- your strength- to protect them.”

She'd already lost enough friends to dragon fire.

Kima stepped back, breathing heavily but not winded, wiping a trickle of sweat from her brow. For all the shit she gave Vord about early morning training sessions, they really did help her stamina.

However, about to start another volley of blows, Kima saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and she whipped around, hammer raised in preparation.

She came face-to-face with a wide-eyed Shaun Gilmore, who seemed to have just lowered himself onto the bench on one side of the training field. She'd actually never met the man in person, but how many other people in Tal’dorei were of Marquesian heritage, had flowing purple robes, and a distinct air of magic about them?

(She could only determine the latter from spending as much time as she had around Allura, and it conjured up a strong sense of nostalgia for when they travelled together, all those years ago.)

The man looked resplendent as one could when they were involved in a dragon attack less than a week prior, which, Kima thought, was pretty damn good. Granted, for anyone besides one Shaun Gilmore, their presence would not have been quite as refined. She’d only ever heard tales of the man from Allura and Vox Machina, but if he was managing to look so well less than a week after dragons rained fire, acid, and ice on his city, then most, if not all, of their stories seemed to hold some true weight.

“Lady Kima, I presume,” Gilmore said, inclining his head slightly, the movement ginger in its execution, but still elegant. “A pleasure.”

Kima realized she had been staring, and bowed her own head in greeting, thinking she shouldn’t be surprised the man knew her name. Vox Machina could never keep their mouths shut. “You’ve got that right.”

She transferred the hammer to her other hand and hefted it onto her shoulder, a clang of metal on metal ringing through the yard. “And you’re Shaun Gilmore, archanist extraordinaire.”

Gilmore chuckled, one hand jumping to his ribs, but he smiled again. “Good to know my reputation precedes me.”

“Likewise,” Kima said, cocking an eyebrow. “Though it seems hard for it not to, with such excellent advertisers.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his eyes lighting up warmly, the corners of his lips pulling a bit more at his mouth.

“Vox Machina mentioned your glorious goods in the Underdark once or twice,” Kima said, thinking back to those days underneath Kraghammer. They blurred together, what with the lack of sun, but a few things stuck out in her memories. “Granted, they always seem to bring up your wares in the middle of battle, while fighting the darkest of beasts.”

“That sounds like them,” Gilmore said, laughing out loud again, though it looked it pained him to do so, as he winced, a hand rising to his ribs.

Kima understood.  

“When you get your shop back up and running I’ll have to stop by sometime,” Kima said, shifting her weight to one side and cocking her hip. “Vasselheim isn’t really the city for fanciful magical wares, but Allura says you’ve always got interesting trinkets in stock.”

“I aim to please,” Gilmore said with a nod, just barely covering another wince.

“So, what brings you down to the training grounds today?” Kima asked, swinging her hammer to the ground so she could lean against it. The man looked like he could collapse at any moment and Kima knew, having been in her own fights against dragons, that they left you beat up for a long while. “The new militia had their first practice session a couple hours ago and something tells me you’re not here to attack dummies or go over sword forms.”

“I’m simply getting out of the castle getting some fresh air,” Gilmore said, glancing over his shoulder at the tall white form on the hill behind him. “Thought I might see a bit of Whitestone while I’m here.”

Kima narrowed her eyes.

“The training grounds isn’t exactly a tourist site-”

“For now?” Gilmore interrupted, his lips pursing, “It’s enough.”

Kima debated whether the issue was worth pursuing, but she noted the quick rise and fall of his shoulders, his quick breathing and the paleness she hadn't seen at first glance due to his dark skin, and she thought better of it.

“Anyway,” he continued, stretching out his legs, “don't let me keep you from your training.”

“I was nearly finished,” Kima said truthfully, looking back at the dummy, its side smashed in and a good chunk of its leg lying on the ground. “But I'll walk up to the castle with you after I'm finished.”

“I would appreciate the company,” Gilmore said, a small grin returning to his face.

Kima nodded, and returned to the wooden figure, which would probably need to be replaced. Steadying herself, she tried not to think about the fact she was being observed and took a few more minutes to deal blows to the dummy, circling around it as needed. She finished a final series of attacks with a high swipe and took off the dummy's head, which had already been disfigured by an earlier strike.

It landed on the ground with a soft thump, and Kima nodded, the knot in her chest a bit looser than it had been.

“It looks satisfying,” Gilmore noted as she came over, grabbing a drink from her waterskin and leaning her hammer against the bench he sat on.

“It is,” Kima said, eyeing the man in front of her critically. “Have you never sparred with a weapon before?”

“Oh gods no,” Gilmore laughed. “I learned some basic self-defense, but I've never formally trained.”

Kima thought of Allura, of how she had hesitated to take a dagger Kima had offered her on their third day after they'd met so long ago. She remembered scoffing at the arcanist, then discounting all of her previous assumptions once she'd seen the woman in combat for the first time. Allie could hold her own.

The thought lifted her spirits.

“Magic is enough for you?” she guessed, tucking away her waterskin and the rest of her belongings.

“Always has been,” Gilmore said, pushing himself to the edge of the bench and rising gingerly. “It's gotten me through plenty.”

“Then I'm sure it'll get you through plenty more,” Kima said with a nod, waiting easily for his slow and careful steps to reach her side. “Well met, Shaun Gilmore.”

She held out her hand and he shook it, and they started back to the castle.

(And if Gilmore had noticed the small rush of divine healing energy Kima had given him, keeping his legs from shaking and making his breathing easier, he didn't say anything to her about it.)

[so-howdyouwannadothis-blog]

Hey Matt this might be random, but favourite npc or character you've had to create for your D&D campaigns you've ever made?

“Well, I am very proud of Sean Gilmore. And very happy that everyone else seems to love him too. Though I do confess I have a bit of a soft spot for Archanist Allura Visorin and Lady Kima of Vord.”

[novemberocean]

Fracture In Reverse CH. 4

AO3

ch1

Chapter Four: Skyhold's Archanist

They rode on horses. Peter didn't like horses. Horses didn't like him either. It made for an uncomfortable ride.

The green woman, the Inquisitor, was very loud. She laughed a lot, mostly at the hairy man. The other green person, the bald one with pointy ears, was also loud. But his loudness was inside. Lace was quiet. He liked the quiet.

"He is staring at you," the scary woman, the one with the scar like Lace and the soft eyes, muttered to Lace. She thought he couldn't hear her, so he pretended he couldn't.

"I know," Lace said, equally quiet.

"Does he frighten you?" The scary woman asked and Peter's heart dropped. He didn't want anyone to be afraid of him, least of all Lace.

"No," she replied and Peter relaxed. "He's not harmless, but he's also not violent." Lace huffed a quiet laugh. "If that makes any sense."

The scary woman nodded and rode on. Lace looked back at Peter and smiled. Peter attempted a smile and stopped. His face didn't respond too well to him anymore. He just stared back at her until she turned around again.

He would make sure he lived up to her expectations. If he couldn't be harmless, he would be as non-violent as possible. She would never be afraid of him. And she would help him find Her...

Not for the first time, Peter tried to remember Her. She was important to him, and he was pretty sure he needed to find her. To keep her safe.

Some part of him wasn't sure he wasn't what she needed to be kept safe from. But that part of him was drowned out by the much louder parts of him. Those parts kept seeing flashes of long, dark hair and fields of barley. The inquisitor would help. Lace had said so.

--

Cassandra was right, he was staring at her. While it was true, Lace wasn't scared of Peter, feeling his eyes on her all of the time was a tiny bit unnerving. It made for a long ride to Skyhold. It didn't help that the horses kept spooking and the group had to stop periodically to calm them down. Peter looked at the ground at those times.

Finally, Skyhold appeared on the horizon. Peter got as nervous and skittish as the horses. Lace rode up beside him.

"It'll be alright," she reassured him.

"It's... Big," Peter stuttered in his way. Every word seemed to be an effort for him.

"It's nice," Lace said, reaching out a hand to pat his shoulder in a reassuring way. Peter startled at the touch and Lace quickly withdrew her hand.

The big portcullis lifted for their passage. A familiar dwarf waited just inside the courtyard. Dagna practically bounced up and down in anticipation. She didn't even wait for them to dismount, she just ran alongside the Inquisitor's horse.

"You're back! Is that him?" She asked excitedly.

"Tell me you haven't been lying in wait for my return," Erica said as the party filed into the stables.

"I wouldn't call it 'lying in wait'..." Dagna said sheepishly.

"Waiting in ambush then?" Varric smirked as he dismounted his pony. But Dagna was already approaching Peter.

"Wow," she said as her keen eyes examined him. "I've never seen anything like it."

Peter backed away nervously, glancing from Lace, to Dagna, and back to Lace.

"You said it could speak?" Dagna asked either Lace or the Inquisitor. It was hard to tell which, because her gaze never left Peter. Lace decided that was enough of that. He was a person, not a device Dagna could take apart. Lace stepped in-between the slowly descending Dagna and the cowering Peter.

"Yes, he speaks," Lace said, emphasising the proper noun. "He is also nervous in open areas surrounded by people." Lace gestured at the stables and the full courtyard beyond. Dagna seemed to have a moment of clarity, and had the good graces to look embarrassed.

"We should take him down to the undercroft," Dagna said, averting her gaze.

They took a back way down to the forge, the way that wouldn't parade Peter through the main hall. Peter was equal parts curious and wary. He hunched his shoulders but craned his neck around to get a good look at everything they passed.

As they went, Dagna babbled about the various things she would like to do to study Peter. It was equally very technical, and very plebian. The first step was a physical examination.

While Peter was examining the waterfall, Dagna arranged her tools. They all looked very pointy to Lace. She knew that Dagna would never intentionally harm anyone. But something about her detached excitement worried Lace.

"Scout Harding and I would like to stick around," Erica said suddenly. "Initially anyway."

"Sure, I don't see why not," Dagna beamed.

So Peter was sat down on a barrel and the ladies tried to explain what they wanted to do. With varying degrees of success.

"Help Peter," Peter eventually nodded at Dagna who shrugged and took that as a sign to start.

Peter didn't flinch at the various implements Dagna produced, but Lace sure did. Through it all, Peter stared at her. She tried to reassure him wordlessly, but it was hard when she herself wasn't reassured by Dagna's actions.

Erica didn't seem too bothered by the whole affair. Lace would go so far as to say she appeared disinterested. It occurred to her that Erica might had offered to stay so that Lace could. She wondered at the implications of that.

It was all very normal, until Dagna held up a glass vial of something and Peter reacted by hitting it out of her hand and falling over backwards off the barrel in an attempt to get away from her. Lace followed him while Erica moved to shield Dagna from any further attacks.

Peter didn't seem too interested in attacking anything. He seemed pretty interested in hiding from whatever was in that vial though. He backed under a desk that only partially obscured his hulking form. As Lace approached him, hands outstretched, she called over her shoulder.

"What was that?!"

"Blood?" Dagna's shaky voice called from behind the Inquisitor. "My blood, I was going to see--" she went on but all of Lace's attention was on Peter.

His large brown eyes were wide with fright, the pupils blown so that the whole eye looked black. Covering his mouth with both hands as he shook under the desk. He seemed to be humming too, but Lace realized he was speaking behind his hands.

"Peter," Lace said softly. Immediately, Peter's eyes zeroed in on her. "It's alright Peter."

"N-no," Peter took his hands away from his mouth to cover his ears. "N-no m-more poison."

"Poison?" Erica echoed. She had put away her daggers.

"Did he think the vial was red lyrium?" Dagna suggested.

"Peter, we won't give you any more poison," Lace told him.

"D'snt m-matter," Peter stuttered, rubbing his face. "Poison is me now." He pointed to the templar symbol on his chest.

"Your body makes the red lyrium," Lace realized out loud and Dagna gasped. "That's the crystals coming out of you?"

Peter nodded.

"Well, that's going to be hard to work around," Dagna said in an irreverent tone. Lace whipped her head around to cast a baneful glare at her. Again, Dagna had the good graces to look embarrassed.

"Do you want it gone?" Lace asked, looking back at Peter. Peter nodded. "We will help you, Peter."

Erica made a strangled noise which Lace ignored. She reached out a hand towards Peter, stopping about a foot from him. Slowly, Peter extended his own hand to take hers.

His hand dwarfed her own, which wasn't surprising, she was a dwarf. What was surprising was the gentleness in his rough hands. They were hands used for fighting, but they were also soft in a strange way. Lace smiled her first real smile of the day.

--

"Way to make promises my ass has to keep," Erica said. She was fixing a drink for all three of them in her rooms.

"Technically, my ass has to keep them," Dagna piped up.

"Hush, I'm bitching," Erica replied. Her words were harsh, but her tone was amused.

Peter was set up in a closet near the forge. It was the best they could do given the circumstances. He was pretty toxic, and the only other option was the dungeon. Peter hadn't seemed to mind when they had left him there an hour ago. Lace had sort of minded when Dagna set the four shiny, new deadbolts into place.

Now, they were sitting comfortably in the Inquisitor's room. Well, Dagna was sitting comfortably on the Inquisitor's bed. Lace was standing awkwardly by the stairs as the Inquisitor paced.

"Can you do it?" Erica asked Dagna eventually.

"I don't know," Dagna said. "But I sure would like to find out," she grinned.

"What if it kills him?" Lace glared at the madly grinning women. The grin fell away.

"I'll try not to do that," Dagna insisted.

"And you'll be there to make sure she doesn't," Erica told Lace in that same matter-of-fact tone she had used when she told her that she was coming back to Skyhold with her.

"Me?" Lace sputtered.

"Since you have such a vested interest in the subject," Erica said in a suspiciously neutral voice, turning with three glasses of dubious nature in her hands.

Lace was about to protest, for the principle of the thing at least. But she really did want to stick around to make sure Peter was okay. He seemed to trust her, and she was becoming a little attached if she was being honest with herself. Which wasn't good, he wasn't a wounded animal, he was a man. A red templar.

She pushed her doubts aside.

"Fine."

"Excellent," Erica grinned, passing a glass to Lace and Dagna a glass. "To curing a red templar."