fuckthedivine-blog1

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skysaved‌:

 ❛ i   don’t   blame   them .   i’ll   speak   with   him . ❜      it   had   set   her   on   edge   just   the   same ;   as   if   she   had   let   a   snake   right   into   her   home .   mislyn   hopes   he’s   more   misguided   than   he   is   malicious ,   but   it   remains   to   be   seen .      ❛ &   i   would   ask   that   you   tell   your   mages ,   those   of   the   People   especially ,   that   they   are   safe   here .   i’m   far   more   invested   in   their   well   being   than   i   am   in   his .   i’d   tell    them   myself ,   but   i’m   certain   they’ve   no   reason   to   trust   me   yet ,   after   all   they’ve   endured .   although ,   i   suppose ,   neither   do   you . ❜

“I have all the reason in the world to trust you, Inquisitor.  So do my people --- even if they may be too afraid to trust any but themselves.”  It’s sincere, this thought --- this kindness.  “You offered us a chance when few others would.  While I admit that I question the wisdom of allowing Dor --- one such as Pavus into the ranks, I’m avoiding passing judgement just yet.”  Her expression goes impish; she’s relieved, primarily, that the Inquisitor has agreed at all.  “And I’ve certain I’ve given you plenty of reasons to distrust me and mine.  So long as you keep Pavus from bothering anyone, we’ll call it fair.”

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exprncd‌:

the rain lingers with the smell of skin & earth,  something human, something new & old at the same time. there’s a feeling … perhaps, of familiarity, that starts in the tips of the toes & ends at the base of her throat. it can choke if she’s not careful, this love & nostalgia she has when the skies grow overcast. the thunder’s booming voice demands to be heard; geila’s fingers try to cup the shout and echo it back, but the voice cannot be matched. chalking it up to being unable to wield such a mighty voice, she lets her toes squelch into the soft dirt puddling around them; her childish heart grins despite herself.  “ — the walls? “ she finds herself asking & she turns her head from the water to look at something beautiful – someone beautiful – and the sight brings a tempered sigh from her lips. “ this storm looks lovely on you, I think it missed you too. “  again, a pang of familiarity covets itself somewhere in her stomach. she finds comfort turning her gaze back to the rain, her voice dropping into a lower, thoughtful tone, “ I can’t imagine … forgetting about any of this. I’d have to say if I missed the sun, the stars, the … world, I’d miss a part of myself. “ 

The other’s tenderness is not lost on the elf, and she smiles despite herself.  It is easy to think of herself as battle - hardened and hurting.  A revolutionary, and little else.  A collection of traumas rather than a woman.  It is a relief to indulge in something else --- softness, affection for the world rather than fear of it.  She is bursting with love for the land and the sky; were she not, it would be simple to abandon it.

“I think many circle mages do miss a part of themselves.”  She had, and she’d entered with an advantage.  So many came in younger than she, with not half as much experience with the world they were to be cut off from.  How can you build your reality and your self around anything but the Circle when the Circle is all you’ve ever known?  “Now that they’re free, they’re afraid of the world.  It’s a challenge to teach them that the world can be as much a friend as a foe.”

Thunder crashes and she only smiles and laughs --- a bright sound.  She loves the world.  SHE LOVES THIS.  This bright, powerful happiness matched only by the moment when she left the Circle for the Wardens.  Her gaze finally shifts to her companion.  “But it’s a far better battle to fight than our last.  Adjusting to freedom is far preferable to struggling to imagine freedom at all!”

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@halflegacy liked for a starter 15 fucking years ago and i FORGOT like a PRICK

“For what it’s worth --- thank you.  I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, but it grows tiresome to argue with the same armor over and over again.”  She is grateful; Templars with sharp words are common, as are Templars with flashing fists and swords.  She doubts they’d actually raise a hand against her here --- but there are too many years of trauma perpetually nipping at her heels not to flinch.  That Hawke had come to her defense is admirable, and saved her the familiar emptying of her heart.

[fuckthedivine-blog1]

@skysaved liked!

“I have a request, Inquisitor, if you’ve a moment.”  Head tilting, those dark eyes thoughtful --- distant, perhaps, though only with her ruminations.  “Some of my mages --- some of my elven mages --- have expressed discomfort with Pavus.”  That she refuses to say his first name means nothing.  (  the apprentices are not the only ones disquieted with the man.  )  “I’m not asking you to kick him out, but I’m certain there are many elves within the ranks who are concerned about his defense of slavery.  Perhaps ask him to --- be quiet.  I’m certain it will be difficult for him, but he ought to try.”

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hey when are one of u cowards gonna make out with fiona

[fuckthedivine-blog1]

@exprncd liked!

Here she is, ducked under one of the many stone overhangs which guard portions of Skyhold from the rain.  The elf is faintly soaked, but seems untroubled; she gazes at the sky with a solemn kind of contentment as it pours and shouts with thunder.  Fiona’s eyes do not drift from the sight as she becomes aware of another nearby; she does, however, speak.  “I’ve spent so much of my life in this circle or that ------ it’s too easy to forget about rain and snow and thunder within the walls.  I missed it.”

[fuckthedivine-blog1]

this is actually a starter call but i had my reaction image folder pulled up and didnt wanna switch back 2 my fiona icons so like this for a Starter

[fuckthedivine-blog1]

this is actually a starter call but i had my reaction image folder pulled up and didnt wanna switch back 2 my fiona icons so like this for a Starter

[fuckthedivine-blog1]

tfw u neglect ur mom even tho u love her

[fuckthedivine-blog1]

fiona's views on andrastianism!!

inbox cleaning!  /  @magicbound

she — doesn’t have any strong views on andrastianism itself.  the religion is…fine, she supposes.  she doesn’t worship or even really believe in the maker, but she doesn’t dislike those who do — at least in theory.  one like leliana is fine; good, even.  but at the end of the day, it is inevitably wrapped up with the chantry, which she holds no great love of.  it oppresses elves and mages and others who are not human, and it is far often more interested in protecting the interests of the already powerful than it is in helping those that andraste herself championed.

and, if i’m honest, practitioners of the religion tend to earn her worry or ire at first, though she likely won’t display it.  the comte who hurt her was quite devout.  as were the many guests she entertained — the ones who knew that he was hurting her and who still stood by and did nothing.  what hypocrisy; to claim to worship a maker who’s prophet freed the elves and raged against slavey and yet sit silently by and watch as a child is used.

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“How do you see all of this when it’s done?”//adrian

inbox cleaning!  /  @aniente

The young woman is passionate and fiery and loving, Fiona knows.  She reminds her much of herself in her youth; sharpened by the hurt of the world and determined to fight and fight and kill if she must to ensure that the hurt is inflicted on no one else.  But Fiona has had her passion tempered with age and disappointment; she knows better than to have expectations that may well be struck aside.  She has hope —— she must —— but little else.

“I hope that it will end with our freedom,” she murmurs.  “Permanently.  Not merely so long as this Inquisition persists, but long after.  And I hope that we shall have a future where mages — and elves, dwarves, qunari — are seen as much as people as the rest of Thedas.”  A low sigh.  “But as to whether I see that?  I don’t know.  All we can do now is prepare for any possible future, and keep fighting if that future is a poor one.”

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‘Everyone is fighting their own battles.’

inbox cleaning!  /  @extravagantliar

She likes Varric.  Respects him a great deal.  But he is —— like much of Thedas, she supposes, though not most.  Some do not hate mages, but they tolerate their oppression in the name of FAIRNESS and NEUTRALITY.  As though to stand up for the oppressed and to champion the marginalized is some minor frustration.  They do not hated mages, but will not stand for their freedom.  It is a state she has grown frustrated with; more frustrated, perhaps, than she is even with the outright bigots.

A point of contention, then.  They argue, sniping politely at each other (  she with that perfected orlesian coldness and he with that sarcasm masked as humor  ) and he says that EVERYONE IS FIGHTING THEIR OWN BATTLES.  A way to explain, if not excuse.  Others cannot fight for mages; they are too busy fighting for themselves.

She thinks of a girl, very young, alone in the pitiless moonlight and the aftermath of the unspeakable and wishing someone would save her and knowing that no one will, and struggles.

“Everyone wishes to protect their own people.  But some…”  A child in the moonlight and his bedroom and wanting to die.  “Some have no people to protect them.  Some have none of their own.  What should we do, then?  Leave them to suffer so that our own battles may be fought?  Will no one help them?”

It’s a silly question.  She knows the answer.

[fuckthedivine-blog1]

THE TIGER / SHE DESTROYED HER CAGE / YES / YES / THE TIGER IS OUT.  independent & private grand enchanter fiona.  as loved by rain.  poem credit.

[fuckthedivine-blog1]

aniente‌:

She makes it easy to smile;  he is grateful for that.   “ Ah.   Should I bemoan how the youth these days are nothing like what they used to be,  when you and I were young? “   When she was young,  he was almost as old as he is now  —  physically and spiritually,  only a few months younger,  and in terms of having existed,  a few decades.   If even that.   Existing outside of time makes the question of aging…  complicated.   “ Of course,  we would never have thought of disrespecting our elders,  would we? “

Smiling is rebellion; as is joy.  He has awoken to a world far more hostile to what he is (  elf / mage  ) than the world he fell in.  But she has learned not only to survive in this world but to thrive, and that means stealing what little moments and little joys the world would otherwise surely try to steal.  WHEN A WORLD WANTS YOU DEAD OR MISERABLE, LAUGHTER IS SOMETHING STRONG.  She wishes only to share it with him.  “Oh, of course not ------ ugh, actually.  There was a woman tried to mentor me during my time in the Circles.  White as a sheet.  Swatted my hands with a switch when I touched the wrong fork, which I did only to frustrate her.  Aside from her, though, I have been perfect to every one of my elders.”

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fiona is the most powerful of all my mages and would wipe the floor with all of them and don’t you forget it

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magicbound:

  Silence blanketed Orsino’s being, nearly a physical presence that kept him rooted in place. Petrified and unable to move as his mind churned like an upset stomach, disturbed by imagery and memory. A disgust for a reality he was forced to see repeated. A cycle and a trap, an echo of two mirror pointed towards each other. He thought he might be ill, overwhelmed with the influx of information that touched deeper than expected, but he held it in— as was his way.

  There was too much being felt and now enough words to convey it, nor was there anything fitting he could say in response to her recount of history. To say it was uncomfortable was fitting, but not enough to convey the magnitude of the experience, past and present. “I’m sorry,” he repeated from before. It’s not your fault, a voice on the inside reminded him, and he shook his head to self-condemn his response. In a fit of nervousness, there was a pathetic laugh. “I’m sorry all I seem to be able to say is I’m sorry.”

  Ten years he had been First Enchanter, but he had fought longer than that to make the Gallows a better home. It had all been for naught. Like dear friends, it turned to ash. He didn’t know if he should be glad or not it took this long to hear Fiona’s story. What hope would he have had knowing the circles were a haven nowhere else, that not even the future Grand Enchanter was untouched?

  “You are a person to me. I– ugh, I know you probably don’t need to hear it from me, but you are a person. More than that. You’re a person worthy of respect and a good life. A good ending.” It was easy to see a future for her, a future that so strangely eluded his own imagination. She was light, she was healing, she was… everything he couldn’t see himself being. It made the praise easier and much more genuine.

  “It might be achievable for people like us… for once.”

The bitterness is impossible to wear away.  It is not that she is incapable of love or joy or diplomacy; only that sometimes it is difficult to grasp those things past the ashen something always hanging over her, at once mist - like and leaden.  Hatred, or something like it, curling tight around her ribs and crushing all the flowers that might grow there in its stead.  The slavery is only one small part of it ------ but it is in many ways the first part of it.  Life was awful in the Alienage, but she had not the frame or reference nor the age to know it.  Slavery was the first time she was aware of her struggle and her agony.

And yet --- despite bitterness and hatred --- she smiles, something worn and thin.  His care and his hope and his guilt all stir something familiar in her.  He is like her and he is one of hers.  The words he speaks, even past his own clear discomfort, make her...not happy, maybe.  But telling this story feels like lifting a stone from her gut.

“We’re both people who deserve a happy ending, my friend.”  Her hands are slow when they shift and gently reach for his --- giving him ample time to pull away if he wishes.  It had taken her ample time to truly know this; she’d never thought herself bad, but...she offered her son to a king because she thought herself too broken to raise him.  Offered herself to the Circles because she felt she still had more to prove.  But the traumas of the past, however haunting, have given way to age and the knowledge that YES, SHE DESERVES A HAPPY ENDING.  SHE HAS SUFFERED ENOUGH.  HER EPILOGUE SHOULD BE A SOFT ONE.

And so should his.  With luck and the support of others, her rebellion has a chance of giving them both the chance for joy.

“Thank you.  For...giving me space to speak about it.  I --- all the people who knew of the time I spent a slave are long dead.  It’s a terrible weight, to be the only one carrying a secret.”  

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MY HEAD IS BLOODY, BUT UNBOWED.  /  independent & private grand enchanter fiona.  as loved by rain.  please read rules before interacting!