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It’s still very much a WIP, but I’m drawing all my gorls

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So I’ve been writing a post Veilguard SolRook fic instead of focusing on my RP blog…

Oops 😅

But here’s the link if you wanna read 👀

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Reblog if your inbox is always open to:

Memeless Asks

Headcanon Asks

IC Anons

OOC Anons

Anything and everything pertaining to your muse and how you depict them.

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I was being a silly goose and wanted to do a height comparison of the ladies~

I’ll have to do a proper drawing (or commission one) sometime soon

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New icons!! My sister drew the gals for my birthday!

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iT'S MY BIIIIRTHDAY. I'M OOOOLD.

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OOPS I got busy with life, work and everything... And also writing a bad-end Veilbound SolRook fic.

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Maybe if she grips her staff a little bit tighter, her new companion won’t notice the slight tremor in her hands. Evaline hadn’t ever left the Circle tower since she was brought as a child and the prospect of leaving now is more frightening than she’s willing to admit. Even though she dreamed of seeing a world beyond Kinloch hold, she wasn’t expecting it to be like this.

“I think I remember reading about Ostagar in a book or two,” she says, her voice coming out weaker than she’d like at first. “I think you’re right. I recall something about it being a part of the old empire.”

Looking at Inara with wide, owlish eyes Evaline draws in a deep breath, trying to give her feelings a voice.

“I think…” she pauses, nervously biting her lip. “It certainly beats the alternative. As long as the darkspawn don’t get the better of us, it shouldn’t be all bad, right?”

Maker… she was terrible at this, wasn’t she?

That, she is quick to agree with.

"Have you ever been to Ostagar?" she asks her fellow Warden-recruit. "I've... heard of it, I think? Supposedly some ancient Tevinter place in the South."

She's not certain if she really has heard about it before Duncan, or if her brain is just trying to convince her that she has. Truthfully, she's not certain about much these days. She knows they mentioned it a time or two when the soldiers were leaving the capital, but...

"And what do you think about this whole Grey Warden thing? Are you... excited? Or are you nervous?"

She was nervous.

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A yelp of surprise tinged with delight slipped past her lips as he hoisted her legs around his waist. Yes, she had dreamt of a moment like this one, but she never expected him to pull a move like that. That said, she absolutely wasn’t going to complain as a tipsy giggle rose from her chest.

“Varric, you hardly need to ask,” she breathed between laughs as she settled on the edge of his bed. “Maker, I’m yours. I always have been, whether you’ve known it or not.”

Face flushed, her hair already mussed, she could imagine she was already a sight to behold.

“I’m so silly for not saying anything sooner.”

Fuck, the way she wrapped her arms around his neck made him never want to let go of her. His hand slid from her cheek to cup the back of her neck, holding her firmly. She was kissing him hard and Maker's breath, he wanted more than anything to put her on the bed and smother her in kisses.

So that's what he would do.

He was shorter than her, but he was solidly built. It was easy to slip his arms underneath her ass to pick her up, just enough that he could take the few steps to the bed to set her on the edge of it. He set his hands on her thighs, then, and kissed her again.

"I want you," he said against her mouth. "All of you, if you'll have me."

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“Well, if you don’t mind terribly, I think I’d much rather hear a story from you,” Maara said, praying to whatever god may or may not have been listening that she was coming across as somewhat charming. Flirting hadn’t ever been one of her strong suits, and she wasn’t sure if what she was doing even counted

“I get to hear about six different versions of the same story from Varric when we’re out in the field,” she said with a gentle, amused snort. Hobbling toward the infirmary door, she felt a little more stable this time around. The wrap and the poultice seemed to help.

“As it stands, I don’t spend enough time with the people around Skyhold already.”

Her face brightened when Maara said she wouldn't mind if she went with her to the kitchen. "Just to make sure you don't take a tumble down the stairs." That was what she was most worried about. The stairs in Skyhold could be a little steep, especially with an injured ankle.

She couldn't help but giggle. "I'm sure you could convince him easily. He likes any excuse to tell a good story." She headed towards the infirmary door and opened it, motioning for Maara to go through first. "If he's not there, though, I'm sure I can probably come up with a story to tell you instead."

It would be nice to sit and talk with someone. She had been so busy since coming to Skyhold that she hadn't had much of a chance to make any friends. It would be nice to make one.

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It took a few moments, but then muscle memory seemed to kick in as she got further along with mixing the ingredients. She could eyeball the measurements for the most point, and as long as she was careful with each step, she would be fine. At the very least, it would be decent enough to sop up whatever broth or stew they would be eating that night.

“I know my father would have loved for me to learn his craft, but he never had the time to teach,” she said, mixing her wet and dry ingredients together. “He was either trying to keep us afloat with the smithing business, or taking care of my mother after she got sick.” Lifting the dough from the bowl, she dropped it onto the table with a satisfying smack, and a puff of flour. “I found my own way through the world though. Found out I’m a hell of a fighter.”

"Blacksmithing is always a helpful craft." Sylvan nodded in understanding. "Forging weapons, working with metals for other purposes...did you ever learn any of the craft from your father?"

He observed her at work and decided to let her keep going at it. Even if the Inquisitor hadn't baked anything in a while, she looked like she got the hang of it...hopefully. (At the very least it had to edible, right? Surely she wasn't a lethal chef like others might be.)

"What other things have you learned - prior to the Inquisition?" His curiosity was lit up now.

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Once again, she is painfully aware that her new travel companion isn’t getting the best impression of her. Quickly, she swipes the tears from her lashes and sucks in a deep breath. She has got to pull herself together.

“I think I’ll join you,” she says, her eyes darting toward the templars gathered near Knight Commander Greagoir. The longer she lingers, the more she worries they might not let her go.

“Duncan seems to be about finished with First Enchanter Irving anyhow.” she notes, nodding toward the pair.

“I imagine we’re all quite eager to put this place behind us.”

Oh, awkward. She's going to cry.

Inara leans away from her new acquaintance a bit, pressing her lips together as her eyes narrow some. She breathes out slow.

This whole thing is... bad. Bad! She isn't enjoying it. First she and her best friend almost die in the streets of Denerim. Then Duncan takes her away and brings her... here. To the mage tower. And it turns out they've been all caught up in blood magic and every terrible thing the Chantry always warned.

"Yeah."

The Maker famously loves mages, she does not joke. She doesn't think it will go over well.

"Well, there's a boat. I'm going to... go get on it."

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“Pff, I’d say that ship sailed, except it never even came to port,” she scoffs, masking just the tiniest hint of disappointment in her tone. After all, Varric was her closest friend, and that passing curiosity did creep in from time to time. She knew better though.

“Though, circling back around to that oh-so-wonderful question you asked, there are plenty of people I would love to look my way.” she says with a lopsided grin. “Why do you think I do half of the nonsense I do? I think all of Kirkwall should have to bear witness to marvelous, little me.”

The more eyes on her, the less eyes there were on Bethany, anyhow. That’s how it had always been. That’s how it had to continue to be.

A soft "ah" trails from his lips as he nods. Right, a mabari... That was absolutely clear now that he took a look at it, and if he squinted... Crystal clear. Returning his gaze back to his friend a snort escapes him to which he quickly tries to brush off, pointing at the streak of charcoal before taking it upon himself to kneel down and wipe it away with his sleeve.

❝Ah, if I knew anything like that, shouldn't I keep it a secret?❞

That seemed like something that would be better off as a secret.

❝Surely there must be someone you want to look at you. It's only natural, ah, but I would give up if it's Varric.❞

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“Ah, yes, I learned that trick much too late in life,” she said with a crooked smile as she sprinkled flour over the countertop. “Though, to be fair, Dad was a former blacksmith for the Antaam and Mom was a Saarebas he rescued. Neither one of them knew the first thing about baking or cooking.”

Trying to recall her favorite bread recipe, she took her time putting the various ingredients together. At one point, she might have been able to make the dough without a single thought. Unfortunately, many of her hobbies had to be set on the back burner when the mage rebellions broke out.

“I’ve tried to pick up things here and there, when I can, though.”

Sylvan couldn't help but smile a bit att he idea of starting his business back up. "Oh, I hope I can. It would be wonderful to get back into regular business once Corypheus and his forces are defeated..."

As Maara asked about tips or tricks, Sylvan glanced toward what she was working with.

"Make sure to cover the countertop with flour before you start kneading any dough on it!, or else it'll be stuck." A chuckle left him after. "Trust me, that happens way more often than it should."

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Moriah felt positively feverish. He had just reassured her that this was all real, but it was all so dreamlike. She had fantasized a moment like this more times than she was willing to admit to herself or anyone else. 

It was such a subtle and steady process, and she couldn’t recall the exact moment she had realized it, but she loved Varric more than she could possibly say. Even as her world seemed to always be falling apart at the seams, he was always there for her. He was her rock, her anchor.

Now, she was standing here, weak in the knees, trying to physically anchor herself to him as he kissed her. She was absolutely certain if she were to swoon now, he’d never let her live it down. Though… she wasn’t sure she would mind all that much in the end.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck as she stooped down to kiss him back with as much fervor as she could muster.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "This is real," he reassured her. "And you still have your pants on." Though he wouldn't mind if she didn't, but he didn't want to rush anything. He also was a little unsure of what to say next. He wasn't used to being so vulnerable and open. He usually hid behind grins and white lies.

He didn't want to hide from Moriah.

One hand reached up to cup Moriah's face, tugging her down just enough so that he could press his lips to hers. He'd never thought he'd be kissing her, but he couldn't resist any longer.

Her lips were soft. Softer than he had ever imagined they would be.

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There was a moment where Maara was certain her heart might have stopped beating all together. Being treated with such a tender hand seemed to be having an even greater effect on her than she initially thought.

“I think I can manage the trek to the kitchen without much assistance,” she said, immediately regretting the words as they came out. Niamh was offering to spend time with her! And here she was about to turn her down out of some misplaced sense of pride.

“Though I would be happy to have you accompany me, just in case,” she added, hoping that was enough to salvage the situation. It didn’t seem terribly unreasonable of a request, didn’t it?

“If it’s a story from Varric you’re after, I’m pretty sure I could persuade him into entertaining us for a moment over lunch.”

Niamh looked up at Maara with a smile. "Good, good. I'm glad the poultice is working. Just keep it elevated tonight while you sleep and that should help." She stood up, fingertips brushing against the bandage wrapped around Maara's ankle.

"Well...it's almost lunch time. I could help you downstairs to get something to eat if you'd like?" She wasn't sure how much help she'd be, considering Maara was so much taller than her, but she'd try. "They should be all right in here without me for a little while." It was time for her to take a break of her own, anyways. Her stomach was grumbling at her.

She took off her apron and hung it on a hook attached to the wall. After that she quickly washed her hands.

"Maybe if we're lucky, Varric will be down there and we can wheedle an entertaining story out of him," she said, turning back to Maara with a dimpled smile.

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I might want all new profiles for my ladies now because holy hell I'm in love