bornpariah

[bornpariah]

dusts off this blog... i forgot to say that i’ve moved dorian over here! along with all of my dragon age ocs :’)

[bornpariah]

dorian has done several things in his life impressively wrong and i think he’s simply the perfect man

[bornpariah]

dorian often feels conflicted in regards to his faith and that he is ( imperial ) andrastian —— there is a great deal of wondering on his part if faith is truly something to believe in and follow devoutly when so many of that faith is wielded in such a way to harm others. to throw mages into the dark in the south and to subjugate commoners in the north. all of it seems ridiculous in his eyes and the justification is solely placed within the realms of andrastianism. things have always been this way, etc. he frequently finds that he wants to believe in things because the idea of there being nothing is far more frightening than the idea that there is a greater power in the maker, but to what end? he begged the maker for a way and he begged andraste for a path, to allow him to be his parents’ perfect son, to what avail? what use is greater powers if they cannot aid their believers?

in the end, dorian has a complicated relationship with faith and the idea that the maker is out there, that andraste is watching over them. but his journey in his faith has led him to the endpoint that there is something to believe in, regardless of how convoluted it may be, and he has found his own ability to “worship” outside of oppressive, constraining societal pressures in regards to prayer and etc. to live as himself and to live his life to the fullest, because if the maker has created them then surely he would much rather dorian simply be himself, and love himself, damn what everyone else says, there’s no need to cram himself into a pew or bow and beg in prayer as society demands. and, really, he thinks that his way is much better.

[bornpariah]

dorian keeps snacks stored around his nook to have on hand since someone has a tendency to skip meals when they get absorbed in their work and felix has long since instilled in him the compulsion to just have easy to grab food nearby his workspace before he goes another two full days without eating while only drinking tea. dried foods, generally, non—perishables because it would be a travesty if he just left something lying around for weeks or months on end. perhaps the weirdest edible thing he has lying around is the mint plant that he requested soon after their arrival to skyhold that he tends to and whatnot. it’s a nice smell ——— and he chews on them absenty, notable if you disrupt him in the midst of work. it’s simply good manners to have minty smelling breath.

tl;dr dorian chews on mint leaves regularly

[bornpariah]

chanticle​.

      𝙸𝚃'𝚂 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴 ,  𝙱𝙴𝙰𝚄 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚂 ,  𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝚈 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙴 .    the inquisition had not been at skyhold a year yet ,  but the moment her boots crossed the threshold into the courtyard  …  she felt a sense of  relief .  her first order of business ,  as always ,  was to report directly to sister nightingale :  deliver her findings and whatever messages that needed passing along from other agents in the field .  and then ,  upon her dismissal  …  beau had all but skipped down the small stairwell to end up in the inquisition’s library .  she  didn’t  skip ,  as it happened ,  mostly because her attentions were more consumed with fishing a volume out of her bag .  

     ❝ dorian , ❞    the girl says with equal affection and pleasantness ,  the kind everyone always assumed to be affected but any fool could see was painfully genuine .  she smiles at the sight of him  -  floating teapot and drawn brows and all  -  and takes up her usual perch upon the railing that circled the tower’s second level .  he’d chided her ,  in his way ,  multiple times about the precarious balance  …  it didn’t stop her .    ❝ not  too  hard ,  no , ❞    beau answers ,   dutifully  steering away from the subject of her recent assignment like a good little spy .  her heel taps lightly against the railing .    ❝ tea would be  lovely  -  consider it a repayment , ❞    she holds up the book with one hand and gives it a bit of a wiggle ,  grinning from ear to ear .   ❝ i brought you a  gift . ❞

       Isabeau had some of something of a surprise ——— the whole of his journey southward had been a surprise above all else ( throwing his lot in with a heretical movement at the spearhead of which is a man with a magically glowing hand alongside several of those who worked closely with the SOUTHERN CHANTRY, despite denouncing it in word, though not at all in action, not to mention forming friendships with several ) but his fondness and affection for her had taken him somewhat by surprise. Dorian is not a person lacking in affection for others, per say, but where it once had been a rarity or something that he protects out of necessity and little else, she had simply been disarming. And thus : he is happy to, at last, see her once more.

       He’s already set to looking for another cup that he’s sure that he’s left somewhere in his study before she has a chance to respond that yes, she would indeed appreciate some tea, and he’s just found one ( and magically thrown it beside the tea pot ) when she states that she’s brought him a gift. He turns with a flourish, brows raised and smile widening on his face as he looks to her / and then the novel in hand, ❝ A gift? For me? ❞ he points a finger absently at the teapot and it lifts in response, beginning to pour a cup for each of them. ❝ You shouldn’t have, Isabeau, you know what they say about expectations, ❞ he picks up the fresh cup from the table and holds it out for her to take, while extending his other hand, fingers wiggling ( there’s no better term for it, really ) in askance for the tome. ❝ But... it’s terribly rude to reject a gift ——— my mother would have my head if I did, and then where would the Inquisition be? Dare I guess that you’ve acquired me a book that I’ve lamented the absence of at length? ❞

[bornpariah]

Hey all. I hate to do this but I’m in real need of help right now. At the end of september last year I suffered a back injury that left me in incredible pain and unable to work. I need further medical treatment, including steroid injections to my spine, but have no health insurance and my funds are low after being out of work (which, I’m on medical leave, so no unemployment.) Also, I’m a queer immigrant with no family here or support system.

If you’re able to give me a hand, I have ko-fi here, venmo, or paypal at  teadrinkingelite@gmail.com. 

Thank you! 💜

[bornpariah]

       Late night stretches and he finds himself arrested in a moment ——— the moment, this moment, however which way you decide to think of it, whatever permutation. He hasn’t the slightest clue what time it is, if his internal clock serves ( and it nearly always does, mind you ) dawn is far closer than dusk and other responsibilities will begin to call and he’s uncertain what, precisely, has awoken him. Simply that he has awoken, cocooned in warmth that extends beyond his typical enchantments, much of which have long since faded with the passage of night.

       His head tilts and he finds himself summarily unsurprised to be greeted with the sight of Halwn, awake, and the mystery of what has awoken him has been solved at last !! Not that the man had been loud, mind you, considerate to a fault. How could you be considerate to a fault, you may ask? Well : simply look at the Herald of Andraste. Absurdism at its finest. ( he wonders, fleetingly, how long halwn has been awake. for mere moments? hours? it’s worry, he knows. worry, worry, always worry. )

       ❝ What’s that saying? It’s Ferelden, if I recall, though perhaps of the Free Marches ——— the early bird gets the worm? ❞ Dorian’s mouth presses together ( as if to suppress a smile ) and he takes Halwn’s hand in his own, turning it over and passing his thumb over the callouses he knows so well. He presses his mouth to Halwn’s palm within the span of the next beat of his heart ( slow, slow as death, as always ) before he twists, gathers magic about him as though it were a second skin ( it is ) and slips out of bed in a fluid motion. ❝ Well, the origin is neither here nor there. You have clearly taken it to heart ——— venhedis it’s freezing in here, people perish of frostbite, you know, ❞ complaining for all that he is the one who extricated himself from the warmth of their bed.

       Still : he, particular as ever, selects an orange from the bowl set unassumingly on the Inquisitor’s desk and throws it towards Halwn ( aided by magic ) as he makes a quick return. Dorian presses his already freezing toes against Halwn’s calves, imperious as ever, exhaling in something of a huff. ❝ If we are to be up before the crack of dawn, we might as well enjoy ourselves. And look : we are already well on our way, considering we slept on an actual bed. Revolutionary. ❞

@inquistior

[bornpariah]

(…) I don’t know what to do with my heart.

Emily Dickinson, from To Louise And Frances Norcross, Spring, 1874 in “Letters Of Emily Dickinson” (via adrasteiax)

[bornpariah]

       Candlelight casts long shadows, though the magelight that he has oh so casually conjured casts the deepest of all ——— it’s intolerable, how low the light becomes with merely candles while the darkness of night has long since descended outside. For once he is not cloistered securely in his nook, though it’s hardly as though he’s deviated much at all : several paces away, seated at the table beside, leaned back in his chair and balanced perfectly / awaiting a fall that will never come. Hands interlaced over his abdomen, the majority of his attention focused on the man seated across from him.

       Why only the majority, you ask? Well, very few people ever get the whole of Dorian’s attention, after all. ( there are too many things to ponder and theories to consider and his hyperawareness ——— doesn’t lend itself well to focusing the entirety of his attention on much at all. )

       ❝ ——— It’s as though they’ve never encountered quality fabric in their lives, ❞ he speaks both broadly and derisively, a flippant wave of his hand as he leans further back / and still yet doesn’t fall. ❝ Though that would explain their uniforms, ❞ pondering, now, gaze drifting as his head tilts and all four legs of the chair touch the floor once more, and he shifts, one of the legs aggravatingly shorter than the others. ❝ And yes, I’m perfectly aware : why keep the caged mages in any semblance of comfort? They have no reason to consider such material discomforts. It simply makes it more barbaric. ❞

@magicbound​

[bornpariah]

#𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑨𝑯 ——— a highly selective dorian pavus of dragon age : inquisition writing blog, est. 2016. hi, my name is mimi ( she / her, sapphic, southeast asian ) and i occasionally go by meems. this blog is heavily headcanon based secondary to how much time and development i have put into dorian over the years, 18+, and mutuals only. mature topics and themes will be explored. low activity / slow responses because i’m 25 and am finishing a graduate degree.

recently moved feb 15th, 2021 ( old blog )

other blogs : kaeya alberich, ganondorf dragmire.

google doc / pinterest board / aes side blog.

[bornpariah]

i cannot figure out if i should just repost all of my major headcanons or reblog them from the old blog, there are just. so many, help,

[bornpariah]

dorian, but he’s tracking you down because you haven’t returned a book to the library yet and there’s murder in his eyes

[bornpariah]

       The music swells ——— it’s quite a pretty sight. Magelights drifting to and fro, lush fabrics draping across windows, Minrathous glimmering and ancient and magical ( breathing with it / seething with it ) beyond, and beyond even that there lies the purity of the night sky. Conversation is an undercurrent to it all, people murmuring and laughing and speaking loudly, at length, meaningless words that would amount to nothing at all, were those people to have any sense. And they tend to, at least in part and in measures and in increments, otherwise they would not dare to show their faces here, amongst a vat of vipers ——— sharks, to some.

       He spots her across the way, never given to the darker pallets of their forebears nor their colleagues, and thus never difficult to spot. He amuses himself, for a moment, with the fact that they match, once more ——— match in the loosest of senses, that is : Dorian is swathed in his customary white and gold, jewelry glittering and fabric perfectly pressed. He leans closer to Maevaris and speaks quietly, melodious besides the music, before peeling away and weaving between attendees, customary smile on his face, returning passing greetings, stealing a wine glass from a passing server simply to hold.

       What? He knows very well not to drink anything without pause nor consideration.

       ❝ Magister Aurum, ❞ a warm greeting, accompanied with a raised glass and a nod of his head, smile widening and threatening to become an outright grin. ❝ What a pleasure ——— quite the festivities, wouldn’t you agree? ❞ he gestures to the room at large with his glass, tilting his head to catch sight of a knot of people across the dancefloor. ❝ Lady Decimus must be in a state right now. This may very well outshine her for the event of the year, unless rather drastic measures are taken. ❞

@mercysought / maxima ♥

[bornpariah]

The person I reblogged this from is someone I enjoy seeing on my dashboard.

[bornpariah]

me but instead of having a starter call like a normal person i just write ppl starters unprompted and out of absolutely nowhere

[bornpariah]

thank you for sending assassins after me btw i really needed that. it meant a lot to me

[bornpariah]

the crown of thorns is a heavy burden to bear on your own, good sir.

varric tethras as loved by elisabeth