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Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Susan Gilbert featured in The Selected Letters of Emily Dickinson

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“I dare you to burn holes into me; I will bleed love and kindness from all of them, and you will drown in the things you tried to end in me.”

— Believe it, Eliot Knight (via eli0tknight)

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– Audrey Hepburn

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As he spoke, her eyebrows lifted in amusement. She wondered how often he made just casual conversation, and found herself wanting to speak with him about things other than Inquisition business. It was delightful to listen to him even in just these few moments.

"Your soldiers sound like stubborn horses," she remarked, a wry grin tugging one side of her mouth upward. "I'm sure I'll figure out a way to get them to listen, and if not . . . "Lywc shrugged. "They'll be on top of actual stubborn horses, and will learn quick.

"But," she continued, "I would be very interested in whatever you might have to show me with swords. I'm never above adding a few more tricks to my bag, and I'm more than happy to get you riding. When would you like to start? I'm sure your days are far busier than mine."

There was no small part of her that wanted to offer help, because that was simply her first instinct, but she'd learned to quash that urge quick over the years. Not only was it often not wanted, but she'd also been hurt badly for immediately assuming the best of people and their intentions. The fingers of her right hand twitched for just a moment, but stayed where they were. She wasn't anywhere near qualified to help him in his duties for the Inquisition, anyhow, so it was a silly notion to begin with. She'd just noticed how tired he looked sometimes, and how many letters and people went to his tower office. What did she think she could do? She just knew horses and poison and smuggling. While those things could be put to use, she was a blade to be pointed, and she knew that; everyone in her past had made clear she was worth only as much as she was useful. The Commander, in contrast, was the hand wielding the weapon.

"Who knows," she went on, as much to dispel her own thoughts as anything else, "you might even find you enjoy riding, with the right teacher."

        ❝ A heroic act, certainly, ❞ Cullen replied, nodding, seeing how Lywc would assume he would be at the front lines, ❝ but that’s not always the case. There has to be someone back at Skyhold taking care of all the paperwork. ❞ He snorted humorously, still crossing his arms over his chest. Slowly, but surely, Cullen found himself relaxing around Lywc, indulging in a conversation for longer than he normally has these past few months. He admired how she logically came to her own conclusions but wasn’t afraid to ask for clarification. Some people hardly had the initiative to ask him these questions, they just assumed. 

        ❝ I believe when I was twelve, I just began to start sword-fighting with my sister-- well, wooden swords at that. ❞ He indulged in her light-hearted stance, but her comment seemed to run deeper than merely play-fighting. Something serious appeared to accompany her words, Cullen caught it but reasoned that she didn’t want to go much further into it. He could understand: he wasn’t exactly looking to tell his first instance of using a sword in The Harrowing Chamber.

        While she seemed to know about handling a sword, an idea occurred to him, but he quickly squared it away to the back of his mind when Lywc brought up the idea of training his soldiers. Back to it was the mention of the Commander’s rather strained relationship with horses.

        ❝ If my soldiers will listen to you, certainly, ❞ he grinned a little. He quickly bit down on his tongue, realizing the implication of his words. ❝ Not to-- not to say the Inquisition’s army is unqualified, but there are a few who don’t take kindly to instruction. They’re capable, surely, just set in their own ways, and you’re knowledgeable I’m certain, and-- ❞ Stop talking. He found himself trampling over his words, his brain full of quips and quick remarks that would easily strike a chord in the ears of many. He sighed, eyes closing for a moment, moving his arms to his side, a faint blush on his cheeks. ❝ Perhaps we can start with me first. I want to become at least on good terms with the horses here, and in return, I can offer you some lessons on swordsmanship if-- if you would be interested. ❞ His voice fell on a sigh, picking and choosing his words carefully to not offend her any further. 

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Lywc nodded as he answered. "Mostly I wondered if someone as important as you are to the Inquisition regularly put himself in danger at the front of the lines," she said. "It would seem a waste if you needed to be there for every attack and got yourself killed."

She picked at a loose piece of wood on the flat top of the post her hand rested upon as she weighed her answer for his question toward her. He was templar-trained, this she knew; that, at least, was no secret in the Inquisition, though she figured it might be poor form to ask him details about it. Her own past, however, was much more sordid.

"My journey to sword fighting is a bit of a patchwork," she settled on. "I first held a blade against someone when I was twelve, and it was all downhill from there." Lywc kept her tone light and joking—if one were not to inspect it too closely. "But, I do know which end to hold, and manage to get by on both my own two feet and on horseback." The words to invite him to spar with her sometime to see how she handled herself were on her tongue, but she bit them back, unsure how appropriate they would be.

"If you like," she said instead, "I can also help train your soldiers how to fight from the saddle." A pause. "Yourself included, of course, after you're comfortable riding."

        ❝ Sword-fighting? ❞ Cullen echoed with a small chuckle, raising an eyebrow. Once he gave it more thought, he could see the similarity between fighting on a horse and on the ground. It didn’t sound so complicated now, since he was able to catch on quickly to swordsmanship in his youth, always trying to best his siblings every chance he would get. Mia was the only one who could outmatch him, but of course, he would never admit that willingly. The ex-Templar was able to have some secrets.

        ❝ May I ask, ❞ he started, growing curious about her, ❝ how do you know about sword fighting? Have you taken it up yourself? ❞ Perhaps her mentor knew about swordsmanship and bestowed the advice onto her through horse riding, but chalk it up to ignorance on his part; he never considered that she knew her way around a sword until now. The Commander certainly wouldn’t be against it if she did know or needed some lessons. Everyone in the Inquisition should have some handle on fighting if Corphyeus were to attack Skyhold any time soon. 

        Ah, her next question answered his own question a little. Perhaps she lacked a mentor who was outside the scope of swordsmanship, or perhaps, she taught herself to ride. Either way, Lywc appeared skilled despite her question about him, and he trusted her to teach him the ways of fighting on horseback if the need arose. 

        He crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side as he contemplated the question. ❝ Oftentimes, no, I stay in Skyhold, “ he answered simply. ❞ In the battle at Haven, I fought alongside my army, but my duties often reside in the realm of strategy, battle tactics, and ensuring the army is well trained here before they go out in the field. “ Whenever the Inquisitor walked into his quarters, she would often find him hunched over a map with markers scattered all over it or she would get interrupted by a report from the battlefield. ❝ But I’m not against leading my army into battle if that’s what you were wondering. ❞

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“there’s nothing more romantic than someone choosing to learn you. flipping the pages in your soul delicately and digesting your chapters with an open mind no matter how difficult or uncomfortable some of your moments read, treating each bookmark with no judgment, but pure love.”

— iambrillyant

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"The language of flowers and silent things."

– Charles Baudelaire, from Elevation; Fleurs Du Mal (tr. by William Aggeler), 1857

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Janet Fitch, from White Oleander

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i want a love that tastes like poetry

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Just The Flax, Ma'am

Watercolor on Black Cotton Paper

2022, 25"x 33"

Blue Flax Flowers

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{Alladale Wilderness Reserve, Scotland} by {Andrew Howe}

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by Burçin Esin

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Above and Below -  Mia Bergeron ,  2023.

American, b. 1979  -

Acrylic

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A warmth she pointedly chose to ignore bloomed within her chest hearing he did indeed intend to train as well. The prospect of the task certainly got far more appealing to her, and she already found it interesting; she did enjoy teaching people how to sit astride a horse. She'd been riding since she was a child and old enough to wander off by herself, and spent more time in the grassy valleys near her family's farm watching—and then riding—the wild horses that grazed there than she did around her siblings and parents. Being on a horse was second nature to her, and while she logically understood that not everyone knew how to ride, or even liked horses, it still surprised her a bit to hear the Commander wasn't entirely familiar with them. Perhaps Ferelden just didn't have as many horses as her little corner of the Free Marches did? That she wasn't sure of; she hadn't really had the opportunity to see most of Ferelden aside from the route they took to the journey to Skyhold.

She didn't try to quash the broadening of her smile this time. "Well, I've got some good news for you then," she told him, "because it's got little to do with luck. Just like sword fighting, it's about time, persistence, accepting failures . . . and learning how to fall well. So long as you remain willing to learn, then you'll do just fine."

A thought occurred to her, with her quip about facing armies. Her expression drew into one of seriousness, and she searched his face again. "Commander, I realize that I don't actually know . . . Do you really lead charges into battles for the Inquisition? Is it that large an army? How do you know which front is the best—the most effective, I guess—for someone as important as you to personally lead?"

As if coming back to herself, a blush crept across her nose, darkening the freckles scattered there. "I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overwhelm you with questions. I just have never met someone with actual military rank before, let alone the Commander." Lywc gave a bit of a nervous laugh, her hand flexing against the wooden post it still rested upon. "You don't have to answer any of those. Don't want to give away secret tactics, I imagine."

        𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲. Even the Commander grew nervous at an impending battle, specifically for the Inquisitor and those that traveled with her, but his belief in Andraste has always calmed his nerves. Not entirely, but it was a comfort that offered some relief. He always reasoned that the hole in the sky and Corypheus' reign on Thedas as a whole was a scarier thought than fighting and dying in battle, those who he influenced to work alongside him, the people he has killed in his wake, and the world he wreaked havoc on. Every battle was a step towards breaking him of his power, even if they tended to delve into political affairs as of late.

        When Lywc spoke of Dennet and her task of corralling the horses down the mountains, he realized then how foolish it would be to send her out on the battlefield. The Inquisition needed people like her back in Skyhold, between the fights and the bloodshed. Frankly, these jobs that lingered in the background were what really strengthened the Inquisition. Not just the battle tactics.

        When she brought up the idea of him being one of the cavalrymen, Cullen’s jaw stiffened. He could easily brush it off to his soldiers, but what Commander would he be if he didn’t take up the mantle? It wouldn’t only better his soldiers, but also himself, but also close the distance between him and his army. He tilted his head, a sheepish grin poking at the edge of his lips. ❝ I already have a few men in mind, yes, but you’ll find that I have no luck with horses. ❞ He could remember one of the hottest summer days he had ever experienced had a grim fate waiting for him. His sister did just fine with horses; the horse always showed its excitement with a whine as he ran up to the fence gate to greet her. But when it came to him, the horse had only scorn. In his eyes. He wouldn’t listen to any of his commands, always kicking him when he walked around it (even as he placed a hand on its back to alert him of his presence). The horse would either remain still or buck him off when he sat in the saddle. Since then, not many horses have agreed with him. Cullen was hesitant around them as a result. 

        He swallowed down the memory and eased a breath between his lips. ❝ But I’m willing to learn. ❞ Especially if the Inquisition calls for it.