#lyriumwrath

[plaguefated]

@lyriumwrath liked for a starter ♠

A soft chuckle falls from her lips, eyes trained on the Templars marching past, oblivious to what lies before them.

❝ I'm surprised they haven't hauled me away yet. I wonder which it would be ; the Circle, the Chantry, or the GALLOWS. ❞

[tobebrutal]

fenris said,    ❛ if you’re doing it to help someone, doesn’t that make it okay? ❜

for every chaste and muted whisper that reminds of his fealty to vows and his maker so near, still, at the crest of the city..  there, too, murmurs an old, barely there voice to mock him.   it agrees forthright with  @lyriumwrath​  and tempts the start of a smile that sebastian doesn’t quite muster a desire to stomp out.   let it spread, he thinks, the beginnings of a chuckle stirring in his throat ;  let it give life to an outward gaze that combs the corridors of a city he’s still too foreign in to feel at home.   what the chantry offers is comforting, of course, but the thrill of adventure was always a rich diversion.   and wasn’t that the crux of it all?

“ you’re trying to tempt me, ”     out loud, it falls short of sounding accusatory despite a cornered gaze to suggest such.   over a shoulder that lacked the shine of armor..  humbled by robes that tried but failed to hide the way his chin sat that bit higher.   sebastian’s back so straight and his hands toying with a clasp at the small of it,     “ it shouldn’t be working so well. ”     he shouldn’t consider another venture beyond the gates so soon and yet—

the grand cleric would spare him no mercy if she knew..  and the better parts of himself, structured ‘round humility and earnestness, said she ought.   but that other part ;     “ the prayer hall  has  been feeling rather stuffy lately..  you’ll give me time to fetch my things? ”     a bow to bring security and all the bits come with it that sebastian uses to separate a brother of the chantry from the person whom, for the benefit of others, he’d argue, wouldn’t look so ill-placed in the throes of promised strife.

“ for the record ;  working around a promise to keep my hands clean, for you?   that makes it okay. ”     almost as few a family, friends were owed better than brisk rejection.

[dryadalismagicae]

@lyriumwrath || LIKED for a STARTER

"I don't take kindly upon being snuck up on-." The drawn blade was entirely poised in preparation, its length as a longsword mayhap not as common as others and yet he holds it with some perfect amount of skill, despite his presumed young age.

Eyes, pointed eagerly towards the silhouette of his unknown company, the glaring of honeyed eyes unwavering;

"I do suggest, however,, that you get chattering on why you're here-"

[scapedgrace]

       “I was thinking we could spar for a bit. When you have the time.” 

@lyriumwrath​ — call.

[cha1nbreak]

@lyriumwrath

there is someone else killing slavers in tevinter. calpernia took note soon after she was freed, when it became her own game as well ; there is some ghost slaying those who she wishes to see dead. it had been noticed and written down, marked as something to keep an eye upon to keep them from conflicting. it is a common goal and calpernia knew they would eventually meet. she did not anticipate that time being standing upon the threshold of a home she had come to rain death upon.

the former slaves were purchased and freed a week ago. the gold passing from her hand to another feels only a touch less sickening when calpernia knows she will be back in a few days time, will watch the skin of those who felt it right to purchase flesh turn to ash beneath her hands. it seems that job has been done for her. does this figure know her name, she wonders? or of her, of the other who skulks into grand homes in the night and leaves blood behind? calpernia knows her name has begun a slow spread through many of these homes, belowstairs, and there is a curiosity to the thought her fellow in ridding thedas of this scum has heard it.

"you have beat me to the punch," the door shuts behind her and calpernia does not move from its frame, does not draw the stave across her back, regards him with the cool hazel of her eyes, "though i suppose i cannot complain too heartily, so long as you have done what i came here to do."

[betterdcyz]

@lyriumwrath​ requested for a lyrical starter featuring Uther Hawke.

          “——look me in my eye,  tell me everything’s not fine.” 

[alcriti]

Fenris, showing up at Astarion's house this time: I'm here to be judgemental and eat your food 😌 / @lyriumwrath​

He does not believe in the idea that friends are worth keeping: They are an asset when needed, and traitors when the idea of betrayal fancies them. He knows both faces of friendship.

Fenris, though, is an oddity, wearing the mantle companion, of which he purposely stands just out of reach... something like a friend, but not quite. Astarion, too, is similar in that regard; they share few things in common, but are nonetheless content when they cross paths.

Often, that is the case, but as Astarion stares down the length of the table, adorned with expertly crafted meals by the manor staff -- reserved only for the most important of occasions -- and accompanied with wine brought from the cellar, that surpassed in its age, Astarion’s insignificant one-hundred years of life. His stare burns with disdain, recognising the jerkin their guest wears as his own, or it was... Pulled out of a dusty wardrobe somewhere, no doubt, and the young lord buries his scowl in his hand.

He feels the hands of his mother grip his shoulders from behind, her fingers pinching him through his vest, and she whispers to him: ‘ Don’t be rude to your guest. ‘

It is a warning, and request both, and Astarion abides with little resistance. Across the marble floor, he strides with arrogant posture, watching as Fenris pay his approach little mind. His eyes focus on the lofty ceilings, the paintings that hang on the walls, the arched windows that stretch impossibly high... And as his guest attempts to pour himself some wine, Astarion snatches the pewter jug from him possessively. He holds it close for a second, staring down the other elf in a highback chair he looks so out of place sitting in, and calmly, fills his goblet.

❝ Can I get you anything else, Fenris? ❞ His voice hangs on his name, a low rumble in his throat, and when he forces a smile, it shift into an unbecoming snarl.

[tobebrutal]

" —wait, you're leaving? " his words don't stumble as awful as they could, though jaskier's steps, quick to follow, are of a staggered sort. a snagged stool, a tankard toppled, he pursues @lyriumwrath towards the exit with few strides spared between them, " where to? " somewhere more interesting than a tavern that left his boots sticky and his hands stickier, no doubt, " not that.. you have to answer but— " ♡

[spphirrguearc]

          ❛  You seem eerily calm.  ❜  COMMENT MADE LIGHTLY. Not to push, not to test, a light-hearted observation. Kirkwall appeared calmer now with Hawke as hero, tending to those who needed assistance &&. forming a sense of justice to the city of hell. Impressive, by standards held in family history.

          ❛  What has you so calm this day  ?  ❜  /  @lyriumwrath​  ♡  ‘  d  .

[nonormality]

@lyriumwrath​ asked: ‘  dark  things  have  a  way  of  slipping  through  narrow  spaces.  ’

DESPITE  THE  GLOOMY  NATURE  OF  the  words  spoken,  a  delighted  (  almost  desperately  so  )  smile  spreads  across  her  face  at  the  sound  of  fenris  addressing  her.  the  past  few  weeks  have  been  nothing  short  of  intense  &  stressful.  at  first,  the  ever-present  war  between  mages  and  templars;  then,  the  peculiar  behaviour  of  the  wardens  which  had  unfolded  in  the  worst  possible  way,  leaving  her  faith  shattered  in  numerous  little  fragments.  combine  with  the  loss  of  a  dear  mentor  figure  &  an  almost  loss  of  a  sibling  she  holds  closest  to  her  heart?  yeah,  it  is  no  surprise  her  body  basically  thrums  in  the  presence  of  an  old  friend.

❝  WELL,  IN  THAT  CASE—  ❞  the  quip  falls  from  her  lips  with  natural  ease,  like  they  have  not  been  apart  for  years  now.  her  slender  fingers  curl  inward  into  a  tight  fist.  when  she  opens  her  hand,  there  is  a  small,  yet  bright,  flame  floating  above  her  palm.  ❝  should  be  less  dark  now.  ❞  bethany  chuckles.  ❝  i  promise  it’s  just  me,  though.  i took care of the other dark things that tried to follow.  ❞

[musamulta-arc]

@lyriumwrath​ asked:

"Come to serenade me?" (For Jaskier lmao)

“I could easily do that. Far worse fates.” Truthfully, he’d come to pester, but if that pestering took the form of singing, he wouldn’t mind. “I just know that... often when people want to be alone... well, they really don’t. So... maybe I followed you.” It was a slow admission, almost carefully worded. Still an admission, though.

[pellelavellan-a]

@lyriumwrath​ liked for a starter so I can be salty about the heat

“I’ve heard Tevinter is--unpleaant to live in.” he began. Unpleasant was definitely not the word Dorian had used to describe his own country, but gien the Altus was so frequently complaining about how cold it was in the south compared to Tevinter, Pelle could only assume that meant that it was hot--which in his humble opinion translated to unpleasant. 

“I find it hard to believe you’d miss it, though maybe not for the same reasons I’m griping about.” If what he’d heard about the way Tevinter typically treated their elves was entirely factual, he imagined the weather was the least unpleasant thing to dislike. 

“Is it better here?” he asked. “The weather I mean, I’m sure the everything else is more than better.”

[thanflowers]

        She holds the news right there in her hands, yet somehow it doesn’t feel entirely real to her yet: ARL RENDON HOWE DEAD IN HIS DENERIM ESTATE. Elspeth grips the pamphlet tightly, unable to even read past the bolded headline. She’s not sure she cares about the details of the thing; she wasn’t there, she had no hand in it, and somehow there is an emptiness where she ought to feel some relief. 

        Maker, she longs to feel some relief. The tears must surprise him as much as they surprise her, quick as she is to whisk them away with her sleeve. 

@lyriumwrath​​: ‘ I thought you hated the man. ’

        Elspeth grimaces, turning her face away for the moment. “I do. Or I did.” She swipes a teardrop off the page with her thumb, staring down at those words. Words she’s longed to hear for months and yet somehow feels nothing good about. “I’m not sure there’s any point left in hating someone who’s already dead.” She looks back to Fenris with dryer eyes, as though he might have some answer: “What do you do with it all, when they’re gone?” 

[fauxgryf]

“I believe my appearance renders me untrustworthy among the people.” A brief pause and a click of his tongue follows, “I hear the whispers and feel the gazes of those when I pass. So many questions, too FRIGHTENED to ask.”

@lyriumwrath​

[alcriti]

❝ You know -- and it’s just a suggestion -- but you should go outside more. ❞ His statement lacks any sort of real warmth or concern for his companion, as Astarion meanders around the ill-lit room of the abandoned home that Fenris, unfortunately, has deemed a place of refuge. And for Astarion, if it were not for the friendship of necessity the two shared, he would never allow himself to step foot inside the mansion, but... Somewhere within him, he can in fact muster up the desire to care.

Finger drags across a nearby end table, picking up a thick layer of dust that he flicks off with silent disgust, and in circling the room like a predator, he stops at the window, pulling back the tattered curtain to the view outside. ❝ You’re practically living in squalor, and darling, I do so hate to see you like this. ❞

❝ Think of all the fun you’re missing out on: Galivanting, carousing... a little bit of death. Kirkwall is bursting with opportunities and you choose to stay here: Why? ❞

@lyriumwrath​​ / ♥

[tobebrutal]

       number 1245 ,      ❛ i don’t mind.    your mess is my mess. ❜     /     @lyriumwrath​