gemspoke-blog

[gemspoke-blog]

     fawn has always slept light - has jolted awake at the sound of her sister’s footsteps against the creaking wood of the cottage’s floor or the clink-clink-clink of templar’s heavy armor that clanks against itself noisily. that she has slept through some revelry that reaches her ears is near troublesome. perhaps she had needed rest more than she knew. wide eyes blink at the man who stands not far off through a curtain of loose curls that falls in her eyes and spills over her shoulders. after a half a second she nods and offers a small smile. my lady ! what a silly title to be used on her - like she is some orlesian noble and not a ferelden runaway.      “out of place?” beryl the color of expensive champagne falls from her lips, tear-drop shaped and multi-faceted. “i was not - ill to begin with. tired, i suppose. thank you, though. has something happened? what is that music?” there is a spill of sparkling stones ( deep-green of emeralds, clear quartz shot through with gold-colored shards, and the banded browns and reds of tiger’s eye ) that falls to her lap as she speaks.

✲ ||   JOYOUS WAS THIS DAY! A holiday for all of Thedas & beyond—- those wiling to drink to the days of victory for once again the Inquisitors have held their own against those whom would strike them down. However instead of celebrating with the rest of his fellows, he lingers about. Waiting for nothing & none. Jades focus on those whom danced & paraded about, ears open however to those behind him. The Surgeon was a fine woman. Dealing in more modern methods of healing beyond that of magical aid. A relief really, to one day cease using mages as a sole means to heal another would lessen the stress upon his own. Lengthy ears twitch at the sound of rustling & head cants to spot one of the more youthful residents of the ward.

          He turns slightly to face her, eyes so wide in astonishment. A dip of his head in greeting before naught anything else. Giving her time to awaken fully & take in her new surroundings. ＂You look a bit out of place, my Lady. Feeling better?＂

[gemspoke-blog]

Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet by mr wu

[gemspoke-blog]

     dark eyes shift towards the houses at the mention. mean is not a word she often attributes to buildings. rather, the people boarded up in brick and mortar so often are the cruelty that lingers. yet now that he has said it fawn can all too well see what he means - how the buildings loom, windows like dull and frightening eyes that glare down upon them. how frightening ! she shakes it off as best she can and looks again at the boy.      “oh ! but they take a great many forms - perhaps one is hiding. they like doing that, i think - watching humans from nearby.” the talk of the fae has moonstone and opal filled with multicolored flash spilling from her lips in a rainbow of colors that she is quick to catch.      he still has not looked at her, and fawn does not know if she ought to be worried or joyful at the fact. at least it seems he has not noticed anything out of the ordinary.

he does not have much, if any at all, experience with faeries. sometimes he thinks (he thinks so hard sometimes!) that small circles of light are floating just beyond where he can see, and tries to catch them himself, but never does. are those faeries? he cannot think of a reason why they would want to come here, for here is a dreadful place, full of darkness and misery and darkness and suffering.

smike does not know why anyone comes to dotheboys in yorkshire at all.

he shakes his head, straining to push out an answer through dulcet, wavering tones and break through his fear of strangers. she was a lady. she would not hurt him. still, he avoids looking at her, and instead stares down at the ground, for fear of insulting her.

“n-no. it’s too. too dark. too…..quiet and. th’ houses are very…very mean.”

[gemspoke-blog]

     a small part of fawn wishes to nod again - or better yet, produce her small pad of paper and pen and write out a yes. but that would be a lie. fawn vowed to herself a long time ago ( when she was very small and her mother had been lying to the neighbors again ) that she would never be a liar. so now she’s in a bit of a bind, you see - so she sighs and nods again. there ! the truth, without having to say a word !

        his eyebrows raise when she doesn’t SPEAK, instead she just nods. he founds that interesting enough to over analyze. was she a shy individual ? or perhaps she was mute, the latter was much more interesting. and ronan decides to bring it up. “ can you speak ? “ he asks softly, sort of mentally yelling at himself for getting all riled up over a conversation.

[gemspoke-blog]

[gemspoke-blog]

     she has been listening, truly ! even if she does not really understand what he’s been saying, fawn has been listening diligently, albeit silently. dark curls whip about her face as she nods a resounding yes, hoping to abate the agitation she can read across his brow.

@gemspoke

   “ it’s quite rude to ignore someone who’s speaking to you. “ eyebrows furrow, hinting at his agitation. he’d been rambling about natural selection again, not something many people found interesting anyhow. “ you even listening ? “ he huffs.

[gemspoke-blog]

     here is the thing about being on the run for so very long. fawn has grown so used to sleeping outdoors ( in small caves and make-shift camps or, if she was feeling particularly adventurous, up in tall tree boughs ) that to sleep inside seems ... unsafe is not the correct word for it, but close enough. so much so that when fawn’s eyes drift open she is not surprised to find the sky, blue and bright, as her ceiling even though she does have a bed she could sleep in.      dark hair falls in a nest of twisted tangles about her face as she sits up, wide eyes that most resemble those of her namesake dance about the courtyard. she is still somewhat jostled by finding others in the same space even as time passes - so used to having to be wary of those around her.

@nathdar

[gemspoke-blog]

     she is a poor conversationalist - fawn knows this much. but at this moment she can feel it more acutely than usual. it is always difficult to speak easily among others for fear of what they might think. and perhaps that is a fault, caring so much about the opinions of others. but she cannot help but think it is for good reason - so when another in the hall speaks to her fawn offers nothing but a slightly sad sort of smile and turns away, back to her food and drink.

@provocatcur

[gemspoke-blog]

     oh ! oh no, she’s - this is quite an awkward thing. fawn had been toting a bag that had grown heavy with varying stones. large and small - faceted and smooth-faced. and it seems that being jostled in the street has made her spill the stones in a shining river across the pavement. oh ! oh, shoot ! she hurries to drop to her knees and starts scooping up the stones with a quick hand. her constant apologies to the people trying to pass by, most casting her astonished looks - “sorry, sorry ! i’m so sorry !” - just keep adding to the pile, though, in diamonds and rubies.      this is ... the very opposite of good !

@astraost

[gemspoke-blog]

     “do you suppose there are very many faeries out and about?”      she speaks as if this is a normal question - the sort of casual conversation one stirs up every day. as if fae walk among humans in ways that are obvious. as if they exist to most beyond tales told by warm fires. though the spill of jewels that glides off her lips in a dark shine of benitoite blues and pearly whites. dark eyes examine the other before scanning the space around them like she’s seeking out any hidden creatures about them.

@castouthomeless

[gemspoke-blog]

     hecka ooc ( mostly because i’m currently in class and supposed to be working on a playwriting project but ) but my newest inquisitor is so cute? i love her so much?

[gemspoke-blog]

     i’m about to have three straight classes so these probably won’t get done until i get home, but like this for a starter!

[gemspoke-blog]

you had to be there.

[gemspoke-blog]

     cheeks heat again from his words - though this time perhaps it is more at the fact she has so thoroughly misconstrued his words. not that she feels truly self-conscious at the mistake. fawn was not raised among palace walls and feels she is catching most things at a somewhat steady pace - she has already begun reading in a nearly fluent manner, that must account for something. so it is not her lack of knowledge that has her blushing but rather that he has had to explain it to her, and has done so in such a kind manner.      “oh ! my apologies, sire - i fear politics have not come easy to me and i still have much to learn.” it is nice to not have to focus on catching the stones that fall - letting the bright green of chrysoprase and the deep blue of sapphire slip into the basket she holds between her fingers. perhaps she ought to carry a basket around with her at all times, though that would surely look odd.

“there are certainly positives and negatives to being born royal.” it was a simple statement that held much truth.. and while he was born ‘in between’, he was able to see the struggles of those readying their whole lives to take place on the throne, or even to merely be a baroness elsewhere. it was confusing and elitist but there was nothing that bash ( or anyone else, for that matter ) could do to change the structure of something that’s been present for thousands of years. 

at the sight of her smile, he couldn’t help but mirror it himself. blue orbs gloss over the little gems that sit in the woven basket, cut to a particular shape as though it was professionally crafted. interesting. was she born this way? “oh, that’s not what i meant at all, your majesty. only that there might be a war elsewhere and they’re forming an ally. wars do not spontaneously happen after a meeting between two kingdoms – unless one tried to poison the other!”

[gemspoke-blog]

     “i suppose she just - did not properly understand how humans would react to such a thing. they do make it rather easy for me to live comfortably on my own.” it is a silver-lining - she has taken to going silently to varying shops - jewelers and the like - and selling the stones silently. claiming they are family heirlooms she has no need or want for often works wonders. most simply wish to get their hands on the stones and do not truly question where they came from. she collects the small pyrope and peridots up in her lap and worries momentarily over how she will be getting these home discreetly.      “oh! my apologies - how rude of me. fawn clearwater - just fawn, please. i saw on your card that your name is theodore sallis?” as she speaks larimar and topaz slip from her lips and fawn lets them fall to the cobbles beside her - there really is no way she will be getting all of this home easily. “may i ask how old you are?”      perhaps it is a rude question - what if he looks much older than he is? but some small part of her cannot help but worry over such a young looking boy carrying business cards that are printed with the title of private eye - such an adult sounding job ! dark eyes watch him and she offers a smile in the hopes of perhaps soothing any confusion or worry or fear that he might hold towards her odd gift. at least he has not asked for proof - not yet, anyway. seeing as she has none it is a difficult thing to reply to.

The funny thing about her story was that, as hard as it was believe, that was pre- cisely how most faerie tales went. They always were a little odd, a little curious and nonsensical, particularly the earlier renderings and interpretations. The lite- rature enthusiast in Theodore could see why such a story could work–why it could be true. It was so strange that it was con- vincing (as if seeing someone practically regurgitate a gem stone right in front of him wasn’t convincing enough).

“ A gift for your kindness? “ said Theo- dore, not having intended to sound as incre- dulous as he may have. “ Well, she doesn’t  sound like a very skilled faerie, does she? “  What was he saying here, though? That he  believed her? That faeries existed? That the gems falling out of her mouth every time  she spoke were real? He couldn’t seem to make up his mind. What was the truth? Was he too bewildered by all this to think clearly? Why did magic have to be involved? He’d never dealt with magic before. This was ab- solutely absurd.

“ I–I mean… “ he said, shaking his head not a moment too long after. “ That’s all very strange, ma’am, and I– “ He stopped him- self short. 

He hadn’t asked her for her name yet, had he? 

“ Oh! Wait. I apologise, erm. Weird time, probably. But I’m afraid you haven’t told me your name yet, miss? “

[gemspoke-blog]

     i’m about to have three straight classes so these probably won’t get done until i get home, but like this for a starter!

[gemspoke-blog]

▌ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ɪᴄᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴇᴍɪʟʏ ʙᴀᴅᴏʀ ʙʏ ʟᴇғᴜᴇs 　 under the cut, you will find 79 rp icons of the stunning 　 half british, half malaysian model.     all of them were  　 made by me;   do not claim as your own.  the borders 　 are from the lizzie’s christmas pack,      thank you so 　 much for making them ! please, like the post if you’re 　 downloading them or using them. ▌ ᴅᴏᴡɴʟᴏᴀᴅ

Keep reading