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He shall know a thirst for the fight, and have the strength of Korth in his blows.

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Dragon Age Inquisition: the Fallow Mire + the moon

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armor laced with blood, shall reclaim his name

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Oh look, it’s Munday.

I’m one of those more-than-one-outfit-in-a-day kinda guys. Call me overly fashionable.

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Dorian:

“Yes, well, I’d rather have not had to do it at all,” Dorian snaps in reply, still angry, still so damnably worried that it all comes out as fury. And when had he begun to worry so deeply about Cullen, in any case? When had the sight of Cullen’s pain begun to make his own heart stop? His teeth grit hard and he brushes the back of one hand across his bone, wiping away a drip of sweat but leaving behind a smear of blood instead, all unnoticed. “Don’t make me have to do it again, yes?”

He stands, hearing the sounds of fighting die out in the next room. Exhausted as he is, lightning crackles at his fingertips as he steps toward the door, but he is met not by approaching Venatori but their own Inquisition soldiers, victorious. Dorian quite nearly slumps against the wall himself with relief; he can feel that empty, scoured-out sensation growing within himself. Mana depletion.

Turning back to Cullen, Dorian offers his arm for the other man, assisting him to rise. “You will yet be weak for some time,” Dorian says quietly. “The wound itself is knit up but you lost quite a lot of blood, and the muscle and flesh around the area will need time to regain their full strength also.”  

He gives Cullen a sharp look. “For the remainder of this little adventure of ours, you will lead from the rear as befits a Commander.”  It is not a request. 

In truth, all of this is a delaying tactic. They’ve reached their goal, and the returning soldiers will be bringing Caius – or word of his death. Dorian isn’t quite certain, suddenly, which will be worse, which hardest to bear.

“Commander. Serah Pavus,” one of the soldiers says, saluting smartly. “We’ve got him.”

And there is Caius behind the soldiers, Caius looking a bit older and rather worse for the wear, but still so handsome and self-possessed. He is only the son of a minor vulgati lord, but he’d always been charming and intelligent, charismatic and witty.

“They say you can judge a man by his enemies,” Caius Abrexis says in greeting, his voice a dry, amused sort of drawl. “If so, it seems you’ve rather come up in the world, Dorian.”

Commander Rutherford puts forth the effort to stand straight when the one they’re rescuing is brought out, despite his pale skin and sore body. He lifts his chin, sizing up the lord before himself and Dorian. A lover of Dorian’s, former according to his emergency healer, who now stands alive and relatively well. Cullen can’t help the sour feeling settling into his chest, the desire to flee and leave the two to their reunion. 

Will Dorian smile? Swoon? Embrace the other man? Cullen determines that he doesn’t wish to find out and takes a few cautious steps back to distract himself with one of the soldiers in their party, murmuring quietly to find out when the reinforcements will arrive. He’ll be damned if he’s going to sit here and let them enjoy a tender moment on borrowed time. And this isn’t about jealousy.

He steps forward again, looking between them. “I hate to interrupt the reunion, but we need to pull back before they recover from our first attack. Our reinforcements will be coming in shortly to seize the fortress.”

It’s not about jealousy. It’s not about the bitter hurt bubbling up in Cullen’s stomach at the thought of Dorian’s gaze growing tender while he looks at someone else. It’s not the desire to prove he’s worthy of that gaze more so than any other man, and that his foolishness was in the right place... it’s not a black and unyielding shame in his chest that he looked weak and incompetent before Dorian. And it’s certainly not a foolish feeling of inadequacy because of his wound in the face of so handsome a former lover. Cullen isn’t a jealous person, and this isn’t about jealousy.

Maker help him. Yes, it is. He sets his jaw and turns to limp his way back to the front despite Dorian’s order, mostly because he can’t bear to look at him lest he apologize or shout or maybe even hang his head to hide a tide of sorrow and shame over his features. Now isn’t the time to feel so vulnerable.

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He’s so cute I want to cry How can he be this cute?? I can’t even

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Dorian:

    “Oh?” Dorian takes his casual smile and instead substitutes it with something a little      more sultry to better suit the moment. The experience is an odd one to say the      least; this strangle back and forth they’ve found themselves in, or at least on      Dorian’s end it is. It isn’t the fault of the company by any means, no – it’s the      setting, of all things, that prompts the mage into raising a single brow, though that      crooked grin of his still remains so. Not exactly out in the open, is it? Tucked into a      small section of the library with only a sparse number of mages and other reclusive      persons lining it’s walls, but even so; the absence of a locked door standing nearby      is something to take notice of. It’s somewhat liberating, if he does say so      himself, and even if this spell of banter between them is nought but the talk of fools      … of boredom, or perhaps even simple comradery? Whatever might possess the      Commander of all men to speak with him this way is irrelevant, but what he does      know that even if it is headed nowhere, it is no less welcomed. 

    “You might find it surprising how little it takes to loosen my tongue, Commander,      especially when the reasons themselves happen to come from fine mouths      such as your own.”

     And then he relaxes, soft lipped and smiling, looking rather pleased with himself      now that he’s said his piece and is now free to indulge the academic curiosity of      the former templar. Hopefully he’s made it clear by now that any other curiosities      of his might also be satisfied upon request. 

    “But, ah – you asked of the buildings, didn’t you? Of that the Inquisitor has      informed you correctly. It remains vital that we preserve what we can of the old      Tevinter and it’s culture – the good parts anyway – and what separates us from      the other nations and makes us, in some respects, superior. You know how it is.      As for the buildings themselves, they’re nothing at all like the old ruins you might      find south of the border, those that have been allowed to fall into complete      disrepair. You’ll find that the general style varies from city to city, and that there      is more colour to be found as you venture towards the coast while the dark      spires tend to rise higher and higher the closer to Minrathous you tread. But      indeed! All of what you see spanning the entire country from one map’s edge to      another has stood there proudly for centuries upon centuries. Some even      pre-dating the first blight. Modern architecture does exist but the feeling upon      entering such a building pales considerably in comparison to that of a real      historical site. To walk the same halls that the great heroes and pioneers of      ancient times once did? The very same men and women that shaped the      world as we see it now? There is no experience quite like it. You can’t throw       a single stone in Tevinter without it hitting a wall of some importance.“

At the opportunity for Dorian to give a history lesson, Cullen leans back in his seat and relaxes. He listens tentatively, imagining the colors of the buildings, the ornate dragon statues, the golds and blacks... His mind wanders to Dorian walking along a street in Minrathous or Qarinus (not that Cullen really knows the difference, though he postulates different colors on the buildings that coordinate with gold). No doubt,Dorian would be wearing something eye-catching and flattering to his frame... Cullen clears his throat and gives a pleasant smile, nodding to Dorian’s words to show he’s paying attention and not mentally objectifying the mage.

“It sounds fascinating but I greatly doubt the images I conjure to mind do it any justice.” Cullen’s expression becomes apologetic at the thought, then he leans forward in his seat a little. “Do you intend to go back at any point in the future? Perhaps when... all of this is over. I don’t know what will come next but, I would like to think we know each other well enough that you might humor my company on a trip north.”

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Until my last breath, I’ll fight.

Six word story. #364 (via myfuture-mywriting-mylife)

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ofdxlish:

deathless ♚ sentence meme

You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast.

You are going to break your promise. I understand.

You’re lonely too.

It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be.

I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable.

I am your servant.

I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased.

For you alone I will be weak.

I belong here, and you will not deny me.

I say these things, and the world listens.

I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried.

In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold.

I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.

I moved the earth and the water for you.

You will always run away with her.

You will always lose her.

You will always be a fool.

You will always be dead, in a city of ice, snow falling into your ear.

You have already done all of this and will do it again.

No one should be judged for loving more than they ought, only for loving not enough.

We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying.

What we carry between us is hard-won, and we made it just as we wished it to be, just the color, just the shape.

There need never be any rules between us.

Let us be greedy together; let us hoard.

Do not leave me, swear that you will never leave me.

I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I.

Sleep with fists closed and shoot straight.

I can’t abide a poor liar.

You look like a winter’s night. I could sleep inside the cold of you.

Oh, quit that. Blushing is for virgins and Christians.

Scold me; deny me. Tell me you want what you want and damn me forever. But don’t leave me.

Bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing.

In his own country, Death can be kind.

What is the world but a boxing ring where fools and devils put up their fists?

Men die. It’s practically what they’re for.

I am no one; I am nothing.

Nothing in me was not made by you.

A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.

Just tell yourself a story that’ll satisfy you and pretend he told it.

Forever isn’t bright; it isn’t like that. Forever is cold and hard and final.

I savor bitterness - it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived.

If you want to kill yourself, do not use us as your knife.

What did I do wrong? Was I boring? Did I ignore you?

Don’t you dare speak to me like that.

I have worn nothing but blood and death for years.

I have fought all your battles for you, just as you asked me.

I have learned not to cry when I strangle a man.

I have learned to watch everything die.

I am not a little girl anymore, dazzled by your magic. It is my magic, now, too.

Are we not devils?

No one is now what they were before the war.

I have not seen you without your skin on.

Close up your head; your brain is getting loose.

We obsess. It’s in our nature.

I’ve a devil of a habit for being right.

In war you must always choose sides.

If you try to be a bridge laid down between them, they will tear you in half.

We are all dead. All equal. Broken and aimless and believing we are alive.

My old bones will follow yours soon enough.

It is better to be strong and cruel than to be fair.

I will see him with his skin off before I agree to fall in love.

After love, no one is what they were before.

I have survived, but I have not been spared.

In the space of one heartbeat to another I loved you and I was lost to you.

Frighten me, make me cry, only come back.

It’s not so bad, my darling. Being dead. It’s like being alive, only colder.

You’ll think it’s love, while he dines on your heart.

You will be so beautiful when you are old.

I cannot keep you and I cannot let you go.

You will live as you live in any world…with difficulty, and grief.

I look at you and it is like my throat being cut.

She said you’d come and I swore to eat your heart.

I still want to kiss you.

My heart is being cut in two. I cannot bear it.

What happens to anything beautiful?

I have to know, I have to or else you will just rule me until the end of everything because you know and I do not.

deathless ♚ sentence meme

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Banter stuff, one paragraph at most. If you want something longer, you gotta message me.

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when amb tries to feed u a butterfly

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lcnelypath:

“We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit.”

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a generic “10000 notes” type blog reblogged my promo i’m in hell

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A+ bioware product

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"Hey. Try this bug."

               “I’m not eating that. That’s disgusting.”

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Mikhail:

   nolyriium.

       ‘ i had, uh– i had a list somewhere of things for          you to do but… i, uh, can’t find it. ’

                “I’m sure everything on that list was very                 important for you to have missplaced it.”