#morsxmihixlucrum

[fadewalking]

"Be honest Felassan, is our people's history really the path of freedom ? " For Felassan from Merrill (@morsxmihixlucrum)

Send "Be Honest..." Followed by your question and my muse will answer truthfully // Accepting! @morsxmihixlucrum

"Depends. Where do you believe your freedom was stolen from? Will dusting off a few old pots and tomes end prejudice, slavery, or poverty? Will it stop a human from calling you knife-ear, or give you a voice in their politics? No.

But that does not have to strip your work of its value. Our culture’s worth is inherent and should not be measured by what it offers you, da’len. If knowing that feels hollow, then consider this: Our people's history is as much a chronicle of terror as it is of splendor. Your responsibility, should you continue to pursue it, is to sift through the rubble and decide what deserves reverence and what is better served as a warning of what not to repeat. Without that insight, any freedoms won for the Elves will crumble as moorings built on sand."

[fvrtvne]

@morsxmihixlucrum asked “Help! I’m stuck in a house!”

a slight swagger in the pirate’s step brought her to the frame of merrill’s home, the other’s honey-sweet chirps spilling through the open window just enough to catch her attention. the alienage was abuzz—neighbors whispering, their wary glances darting her way, though no one dared approach. isabela smirked, unconcerned, and knelt by the door. the lock was a little stubborn, but her deft fingers worked with practiced ease. soon enough, the soft click of success echoed, and she stood, pushing the door open with a flourish.

" have you tried asking it to let you go, kitten? " she called out, her voice dripping with playful mockery, a wide grin tugging at her lips.

stepping inside, she let her gaze sweep the room with an exaggerated air of inspection, her hands resting casually on her hips. " so, what’s the story? did you offend the furniture? or did the door just finally get tired of you? "

she paced further in, sharp eyes scanning for any signs of disaster. " seriously, merrill, next time maybe don’t challenge the house to a duel, " she added, a laugh bubbling in her throat. " cause my money'd be on the house. "

[that-hawke-woman]

❝Nothing creepy about a bunch of old abandoned caves. Nothing creepy at all.❞ for Merrill @morsxmihixlucrum

@morsxmihixlucrum

Dragon Age Inquisition Starters

"Of course not! Totally fine. Deeeh-finitely not going to die." Her tone was unmistakably sarcastic as she shook her head, but Ana was unable to shake the underlying feeling of unease that the empty, windswept cavern gave her. These caves were abandoned, right? Sure, there had been slaver activity here at one point, but they'd cleared those sorry sacks of shit out years ago. Still, something about this place felt wrong somehow. "Why did we come this way, again? And where the devil did Anders and Aveline disappear to?"

[fatewoven]

His armor remains bristled, sharp at the edges. Both a shield and weapon built from broken pieces, salvaged and scavenged, paid in blood an a waning naivety over the years. To that effect: his disdain proves oppressive. There's something clogging in the back of his throat, preventing him from breathing properly for too long of a moment at her response. "What I've endured," he repeats slowly, tone baleful. Acidity clings to each harsh consonant. "What could you possibly understand about it? No other choice existed but to endure it. Do you think I simply tolerated being treated as less than nothing every day of my life?" More awaits of that sordid, gruesome, and shameful history awaits on the tongue, but he swallows instead. Tastes bitter hops and something worse as he glares at Merrill and her too-wide eyes. Dalish, they're always looking down at something; always finding a lack to point out, a wisdom the flat-eared elves haven't the bloodline to earn. Too easily does her voice slips between the gaps of his armor, a chisel against the brittle surface he wants to hide forevermore. "I hope you do not take your freedom of choice for granted for as long as you live, mage." Expression shifting toward cynical neutrality, Fenris leans back into the chair. "I refuse because I want to refuse. It's an experience that's yet to wear out its novelty. The way you speak has little difference to how magisters bemoan their lost glory. You can pave whatever road you wish with good intentions, but do not be surprised when it leads to an ending that's far from satisfactory."

"Shall that reason present itself, will you truly be able to let go of it after this long ? " It was a genuine question. She had so much trouble in the beginning to shed what she had been when coming to Kirkwall. She had learned a lot from it, but to learn you had to accept certain things. As she watched , with a slight stiffness, Fenris take another swig of ale, she did wonder why he indulged talking to her, if he had that much disdain for her.

The usual chain of words then came again. Even if she showed him that she was no little girl, that she had been educated and tought to be a Keeper, he would still find something to correct her. "So you're hateful and a hypocrite" she concluded. " You are willing to use something from your past and mold it to something you stand for. You too use markings built on the corpses of countless slaves, with a potential that could cripple you and everyone around you. However you think you know what you are doing, but you only see the world through what you endured. " She picked up her cup, she felt the tips of her ears burning a bit. She was so daring, she had to tell that to Varric and Isabela later. But , the tone was still one of a historian. There was no judgement, just a matter of fact conclusion. "Maybe that is why you are so grumpy, lying to yourself must be more exhausting than me digging through the past. " She put her cup down. "And you are mistaken. I understand your disdain, you refuse to relate." And now she would wait for the sardonic laugh or the cynical reply.

[magecrashout]

[ a hug ] from Merrill (@morsxmihixlucrum)

accepting!

hawke needs to be hugged more often than she admits. merril takes her in her arms by surprise but she does not even complain. it's a short-lived shock and then she throws her arms right back. hawke take a breath, feeling somewhat relieved.

she smiles. ❝ thank you, ❞ her voice is soft. ❝ did i look like i needed it ? ❞ she hopes not, but a positive answer won't surprise her either. hawke holds the hug for longer than usual, not wanting to let go first.

[lone-blade]

@morsxmihixlucrum | starter call

" Do you need --- " he had seen the woman ahead on the road pacing in circles and...talking to herself? Carver couldn't make out if the the elf was in peril or not and, despite his wish to arrive at his destination promptly, cut back to offer assistance.

What he did not expect was this.

" ---Merrill? " disbelief coasts his tongue, and the Warden nearly gasps out loud. " What are you doing out here? "

[magecrashout]

❛  why me?  ❜ for Merrill @morsxmihixlucrum

❝ merril, dear, i ask myself the same thing. ❞ hawke hummed. she raised the bottle she had in hand — bringing it to her lips and taking a prolonged sip. hawke's eyes focused back on her friend. it was hard to imagine a world without problems, certainly not her world.

❝ in fact, i ask that all the damn thing.❞ she scooted closer and then brought her legs to a cross once more. ❝ for once, i will pretend to be the advisor — what troubles you? what can the mighty and very witty hawke help you with ? ❞ thought she jested, she was always serious about her friends. her methods sometimes involved less talking and more action... yet merril could confide in her, though it was best to not rely fully on the advice marian gave after a drink or two. or perhaps it was best to not take her advice in general.

[fatewoven]

History and elegy are akin. The roots of history reaching to a time when it meant to ask about things — about their weights, dimensions, location, moods, sanctity, names. And the historian who dares ask after such topics lost to erasure is not someone who holds an idle, carefree role. He knows this alongside with another fact that makes his dominant hand twitch, lyrium gathered at the claws each time Merrill's inquisitive (invasive) nature pierces through him as easily as she recites dead languages. Her arborescent eyes feel too knowing, too keen. Empathetic to a fault. He curls his lips and takes another swig of the piss-poor ale, and taps an irritated tune against the disgusting table that sees a cleaning cloth to its surface maybe once a month. "It's not a difficult state to maintain when I've yet to find any reason to lessen it." Hate left no space for any self-refletion deeper than survival. It kept his wariness sharp and continues to be the only thing he could rely on throughout the years. "You toy with a power that's built an empire from the corpses of countless slaves." Perhaps she does seek out answers for the right reasons, but how long will that last? "I would think it more exhausting to dig through the past for any shred of reason to justify your existence. A feeling I cannot relate to for the same reason you cannot understand my disdain."

@fatewoven sent for Fenris : “   Sometimes I wish I looked more fragile and feminine like a dainty flower, but I do enjoy looking like I hate everyone. ”

There was always a discret flinch in her mind when Fenris spoke to her. Like a brace for impact kind of reaction. She was used to not being liked by him, she was empathic to what he had been through, why he disliked mages, why he thought so little of the Daelish. However, while she tolerated his vision of the world, she would not renounce hers , the past was important, her choices had been made and were driving her forward. She had learned much since she day she had left her clan - yet sometimes, when his words were directed to her, they simple hurt - for many reasons.

So as he spoke, she wondered if he was meaning it or using sarcasm again. Probably the latter. "You're mocking me again, aren't you ? " she sighed and stood just straighter. A defense mecanism she had picked up long ago. She clasped her hands in front of her, and still looked at him with kindness. "Do you really? Hate everyone I mean. It must be exhausting to feel such an intense negative emotion all the time. "

[fvrtvne]

a chuckle rang out from the gathering behind her — low and smug, like they'd seen something worth gossiping about. isabela didn't need to look to know the kind of judgment that hung in the air. still, she glanced over her shoulder anyway, pinning them with a glare sharp enough to scatter even the boldest busybodies. the crowd out front wasn't any better. their eyes lingered far too long on merrill, gawking at her as if they'd never seen someone bleed magic into the world before.

isabela clicked her tongue, her jaw tightening at the thought.

her gaze flicked back to merrill, and the fight in her chest softened into something else entirely. isabela hated how fragile she looked — hated how the judgment outside clung to her like something alive.

she moved before she could think better of it, an arm slipping around merrill to draw her close, a solid and steady warmth between her and the weight of the world. her free hand caught merrill's chin, tilting her face gently toward isabela's lips before she returned the kiss in full.

" not like anyone else was going to pull you out of that mess, now, were they? " she murmured, her voice low but playful. there was a bite of reassurance there too, the kind she wasn't going to dress up with any fancy words.

she pushed the door closed behind them with the edge of her boot, shutting out the noise and the stares with a satisfying thud. the quiet that followed felt heavier, cooler — more private. for a moment, she let it settle, breathing it in as she guided merrill a few steps further into the room.

" you did good, you know? " isabela said, her words softer now. " i mean it. even if you scared the piss out of everyone out there. including me. " a grin tugged at her lips. " not that i'd admit it twice. "

her hand slipped from merrill's chin to her shoulder, her touch lingering like she was grounding the both of them. she let her eyes roam over merrill's face, studying her.

" now ... " isabela's expression softened. " you're not hurt, are you? that's what matters. "