#nobroth

[high-as-hope]

for @nobroth

The evening was rather somber still, despite the new additions to their party. Though that was probably to be expected. After their near-death experience, they started the day learning about Loghain's betrayal at Ostagar, and that the fate of Ferelden fell squarely on their shoulders.

The news they heard from Lothering was hardly much better. Loghain had taken the throne for himself, started amassing a new army, and wanted the two of them dead.

Their prospects seemed pretty dismal all things considered. Even Elsa found it hard to crack a sarcastic joke in the face of their situation.

Sighing, she looked down at her sad, fumbling attempts at pitching a tent. Duncan, the patient man that he is -- was, she bitterly reminded herself -- had tried to show her how after leaving the Circle, but it hadn't quite stuck. Giving up on that useless task for now, she instead cast a glance over her shoulder at her fellow Grey Warden.

If their situation had Elsa feeling gloomy, Alistair was taking it all far worse. She could hardly blame him -- Elsa didn't even have time to meet the rest of the Wardens, but Alistair had been close with them. Duncan, especially.

And just like that, they were all gone.

Biting her lip, she cautiously approached him, trying to decide what to even say. What could she even say to him? Words alone seemed ineffective.

The mage settled on a soft, "Hey," as she approached him. "Um... how are you feeling?"

Elsa suppressed a wince as she heard the words leave her mouth. What a stupid thing to ask.

[mercysought]

❝ I've seen you with him -- and I've seen you without him. I've seen you on the crescent of the hill. ❞ ( for Anora from @nobroth )

DISCO ELYSIUM // accepting . @valorcorrupt @nobroth

It would have taken every fiber of her body to stop her from showing on her face how the first words made her body be taken by a chill. It would have been difficult, even in the case where she had had preparation, if she had expected it. But she didn't, and so the Queen stops immediately what she had been doing to look up to Alistair. Her eyes wide in surprise as the quill hangs in mid motion.

She supposed it had been too much to hope, too much to ask that it could remain either something completely kept or completely unspoken. She had not know what exactly had tipped him off, only that something did, and only that she hoped that it was nothing that had spread to court. But if Alistair had noticed, then she feared the worst and it was hard not to feel fear and shame starting to pool in the bottom of her stomach.

Her eyes, however, do not move from the King.

   "If my meetings with the Warden Constable give you pause, my King" she hears herself talk, her eyes on his brown eyes as she placed the quill down slowly "you may take over the negotiations with the Wardens and their continued efforts to rebuild Amaranthine and Denerim."

It had been his idea, after all, having Anora focus specifically on this part. Selfish, of course, he hadn't wished to deal with Inara and she hadn't wished to deal with him so it was an arrangement that worked well. Until that point she supposed. The thought doesn't escape her though: that she was doing the same thing that Cailan had done onto her.

But Cailan had loved her. He had loved her and had promised to love her until the end of their days. And had betrayed her. She had never promised Alistair anything of the kind. Only discretion and the respect that his title is owed. He had given away and chosen to walk down a path that had shred his happiness, that did not mean however that she would let go of hers so easily, not when he had been the sole responsible person for her misery and loneliness.

And yet, the shame still sat, on the pit of her stomach, even as she held his eyes firm with thin lips pressed together. Her voice leveled as she bowed her head "If that is your desire, of course."

[anecdotist]

@nobroth continued from here

"What would I choose?" Zevran hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know."

His smile curled easily, softly. "A bit of an easy exit, I know."

Slowly walking around the table, he paused at the chair opposite of Alistair's where the queen would sit. Had sat. Refined, beautiful, and absolutely deadly. She'd have been extremely popular in Antiva. And successful, too, no doubt. Zevran lightly ran his fingers over the back of the seat, trailing the tops of the carvings. "The only advice I have to give would be this: you should trust those who listen to you. Trust those who make an effort to work alongside you."

His pace carried him on around the table, pausing briefly behind Eamon's chair. He did not touch it, for fear that the wretched snake's poison would rub off on him. "Do not trust those who undermine you. Belittling you or your thoughts is not loyalty. It is manipulation."

And he would know. The Crows were masters of the game--praising one in the same breath as admonishing another. The masters pit everyone against each other, assassins vying for praise and prestige that would never be theirs. And it was all for the benefit of the Talons.

As he neared Alistair again, he gave an easy smile. "You're a good man, Alistair, with a good head on your shoulders to match. You should trust yourself more. Follow your heart and your convictions--perhaps they'll lead you astray, but you'll rest easier at night knowing you are still yourself, under your glittering crown and finery."

[afraidofchange]

What does Ilona think of non-dwarven partners attempting to make references to dwarven things? Are there any turns of phrase that are particularly grating to her?

@nobroth | unprompted.

I think she finds it kind of endearing, that a partner would try to make the effort to try and incorporate parts of her culture, though she'd likely have to correct them on pronunciation or understanding of it. I don't think she'd really find anything in particular too grating unless a partner continued to say it wrong after being corrected.

Though, I do think she'd get tired of hearing the phrase, "Fine dwarven crafts direct from Orzammar" from anyone. She'd be like "there's MORE than just crafts, y'know."

[theharellan]

"You're, ah - with the Inquisition, right? I heard the Hero of Ferelden was with you. Is that... true?" (self indulgent King!Alistair nonsense)

It had been many years since a king had last deigned to speak to him.

Long enough that the standards have declined, it seems. For all their faults, it could never be denied that the evanuris possessed the might that lent weight to the power they wielded. Now, it seemed blood alone was enough to elevate one above the rest.

Whether there is merit to the idea remains to be seen, he supposes.

Solas bows his head with appropriate deference, but does not cut his gaze beneath the king's as he answers:

"For the time being, it seems so. Although she is far from the only Warden in our company of late."

[alitlantern]

Roses are red, violets are blue, my day is much better when I see posts from you! Happy Valentine's Day pal

Chewing on concrete, thank you 🥲 Happy (belated) Valentine's Day!!!!!

[crosaidi]

Roses are red, violets are blue, my day is much better when I see posts from you! Happy Valentine's Day pal

RIGHT BACK AT YOU happy day after valentine's day!

[hoboblaidd]

Roses are red, violets are blue, my day is much better when I see posts from you! Happy Valentine's Day pal

right back at you buddy. RIGHT BACK AT YOU

[littlehoundthings]

@nobroth: "Interesting. I didn't think they taught that kind of thing in the Circle."

Unprompted Starter! {Always Accepting}

"I did have a life BEFORE the circle you know, Alistair--" Asheriel commented with a slight grin as he pointed at Alistair with his whittling knife. He chuckled, before going back to carving the wooden block he'd bought from Bodahn-- occasionally flicking slivers of wood into the campfire.

"My dad was a carpenter. I learned how t'work with wood from him... though I mostly sticked t'carving and engraving." The young mage shrugged lightly as he continued to shape the wood into a little mabari statuette.

"Besides, the circle was too busy teachin' us t'dance naked under the moonlight and sacrifice goats-- if you ask the locals," he teased with a smirk and a wink at Alistair.

[nobodyexpectsthe]

"I don't suppose there's a place to buy socks way up here."

"Not in Skyhold itself, no. However the nearby settlement has a few shops that sell specialty wear for travellers such as yourself."

Pirith supposes he should be more mindful of what the man before him sees. It would be wise to downplay the extent that Skyhold has developed in the years since a dignitary from Ferelden or Orlais has last made the trek up. He had in past years, using sleight of hand and flattery to shift the focus from the fact that the town was home to more than just the families of his soldiers.

But they've grown far too much for that, and The Frostbacks have thrived in the years since the breach had closed and the Inquisition had shifted its focus from war to peace - a differentiation that truly only mattered on people. It is undeniable that Skyhold has become far more than a military outpost, just as it is undeniable that the people of the Frostback Mountains view its leader as far more than just the Inquisitor.

Perhaps it is his unique approach to leadership - a holdover from his Dalish upbringing, where all who consider themselves his clan are treated equal regardless of birthright or title.

The Avaar, the Dalish, and all the wayward souls who have never known acceptance in the Chantry's lands had trickled in slowly throughout the years, glad to have a land where they were free to worship their Gods and a leader who would love them no less for it. More than that, though, they were glad to have a land in which they were free to wander and others who were delighted to trade for their unique wares.

Pirith's role in this one he is glad to play. Providing them protection as he uses his connections to broker trade deals with those outside his lands, settling disputes with bloodless traditions of both the Dalish and Avaar, and granting an ear to those who need it. There is charm in the way he treats the King at his side with the same level of respect and dignity he gives to the merchants, no more or less.

"I can enchant your boots if you would like to take a look at their wares... I daresay it would make Nitha's day to sell a pair of socks to the King himself."

[high-as-hope]

from @nobroth:

i locked myself in a cage once, when i was a child. for an entire day. ahh, good times.

Elsa bit her lip firmly to stop the quip from leaving her mouth. She had to remind herself that, despite the rapport she'd quickly built with Alistair, they were probably not yet at the point in their relationship where she could tease him mercilessly.

She decided on a different approach instead.

"How did you manage to lock yourself in a cage?" Elsa asked, not hiding her mirth very well. "What were you even doing in a cage to begin with? ...Were you a naughty child, Alistair?"

[mercysought]

"Tell me I'm a bad, bad, bad, bad man." ( Anora from @nobroth )

DISCO ELYSIUM // accepting . @valorcorrupt @nobroth

Anora tries really hard to keep her eyes from rolling. She is successful, but she is not successful in keeping her expression from growing darker while her light eyes following Alistair. He had been passing, overwhelmed and annoyed at the growing complaints as the honeymoon phase with court came to an end. He was annoyed at her too and it was clear in the way that he was stumbling in any attempts to get her to react with the same level of snippy irritation.

Having had been married to Cailan, this was not unfamiliar, unfortunately. But she was far more proficient at it and the tug and pull than Alistair could hope. The Queen tried to find within herself a well of empathy to feel for the man in front of her, and yet came up nothing. This would not have been an issue that he had ever needed to worry about had he not forced himself upon a affairs that only concerned him because his father had decided the Queen was not enough.

   "You are not a bad man, Alistair." she finally speaks, flatly following as he looks up to her "No need for dramatics."

Though it should be something he should grow accostumed to. If he didn't know who he was, was sure in who he was, the rest of the nobles would eventually tear him to shreads until he was nothing more than what they wanted. Or, were he unlucky, the nobles would leave him alone - and Eamon would do all the shaping.

Was she a different woman, one like Celene, she might take advantage of this moment. His lost eyes and confused, hurt feelings. The thought made her blood boil, however. There was no reason to make herself hate her life and herself more, even if that would make her life easier in the long run.

   "You have simply..." a pause, her arms folding over her arms as she slowly walks around the dark red couches, she seats softly on the closest seat to the loud fireplace. She gives Alistair a polite smile "been advised poorly."

[anecdotist]

@nobroth said: "Does everyone in Antiva.......... like men?" random things | always accepting

The blush that spread over Alistair's cheeks was quite fetching. It took all of Zevran's will to not smile charmingly, teasingly in response.

As much as he loved to tease Alistair, it would not do well to make fun of him all the time.

Still, Zevran smiled, for any chance to think and reminisce about home was a pleasant one.

"Oh, the women most certainly do, my friend." He laughed. "Relationships there are less... procreationally focused. Antivans appreciate beauty and know it comes in many different forms. Such as a curvy, dark haired woman."

His eyes cut over to Alistair. "Or a broad, tall, blond man."

Zevran shrugged. "Sex and love, passion and romance--it's all far more open in Antiva than here in Ferelden. There may be few who judge one's partner based on their gender, but for most, it's hardly something to bat one's eye at."

Turning his face up at Alistair, he gave the other man a wide-eyed, curious look. "Why the sudden curiosity about liking men?"

[aposthates]

❛ run . run & don’t stop . ❜

HIS LIPS TILT WITH A MODICUM OF SURPRISE, and his eyes are warm, albeit alight with an equal measure of amusement woven into arch of natural confusion. "this coming from a former templar?"

he's being unfair, really . . . he never even took his vows, although his information on the subject was only so varied. either way, he can't help it. HYPOCRITICAL BIAS PLACED UPON THE ORDER, yet none so much that he cannot see a good man when they've been placed in-front of him. THOUGH THOSE WHOM HAD ONCE FOUND THEIR PLACE AMONGST THE FACTION had a longer, more hard-won journey to trust. NOT AS THOUGH ANDERS HIMSELF WERE DESERVING OF IMMEDIATE TRUST, EITHER. "and here i thought you were the ones who are adamantly against running." PERHAPS HE SHOULD GIVE HIS FELLOW TAINTED BROTHER A BIT MORE GRACE, however he's quite used to being allowed none. yet, still . . . the confusion upon his face deepens. SMILE SOMEWHAT RETAINED DESPITE. "so you're just going to let me go, just like that?"

@nobroth. deadly nightshade.

[the-heroines-of-thedas]

is it just me, or did i do really badly back there? (for whoever u like!)

"Well..." Evaline paused, scrunching her nose in dismay. "To be perfectly fair, those traps were fairly well camouflaged. At the very least, we all got out with just a few minor burns and bruises. That has to count for something, right?"

[that-hawke-woman]

your reputation precedes you .

It was not a familiar voice, but it was far from the first time she had heard such words by way of introduction. Reputations, it turned out, were vastly overrated.

She stopped working and let out a small sigh, setting the box she'd been moving down for someone else to handle. Standing straight but still facing away from the stranger, Ana placed her hands on the back of her hips to try and stretch out the stiffness in her spine. With a quick wipe of her brow, Hawke finally turned to look at the man. His accent was... Fereldan?

Her expression perfectly placid, betraying not a hint of her suspicion (most that sought her own deserved at least that much), she lifted a seemingly innocent eyebrow and said, "Ah... I am not quite sure what you mean, messere." There was vague, false, but convincing enough Orlesian lilt in her voice, an affectation she deemed necessary after her flight from Kirkwall, even if the idea had made Varric cramp up from laughter. On paper, at least, her cover seemed fairly solid. How was it, then, that folks kept sussing her out? It was getting frightfully irritating, having to move between towns over and over.