lethendral - Tumblr blog

[lethendral]

what shape does your pain take?

chains

You have chains, keeping you linked to something you'd rather leave behind. Maybe this is a bad family, traumatic event, toxic relationship... But something's keeping you trapped there, and you don't know how to escape it. You can turn the chain around, to help you instead of trap you... Can't you?

Tagged by: @seahaloed​

Tagging: whoever wants to ahhh

[lethendral]

altuspavus​.

          Dorian knows the longer this conversation drags on, the more unstable his standing with the elf grows. He can see it in Fenris’ face, not even simply his expression, but everything about him. Dorian knows, for all of his talents as a Tevinter mage, he does not want to be on the other’s bad side. At least, he wants to keep from getting on his worse side, as it is. Dorian’s pretty sure the moment he breathed in the same country as Fenris is the moment he got on his bad side.

          He knows the agreement between the two of them is weaker than cracked glass which has not yet shattered, but it’s something to which Dorian can hold on to. Perhaps, if he finds some sort of luck, Fenris might cease disliking him. Dorian thinks himself very likable, after all, provided one is not an advocate for the Southern treatment of mages or else one of the more… traditional of his countrymen.

          All hope beyond the initial agreement is quickly snuffed out when Dorian’s mind catches up, processes what Fenris is proposing as a plan. Oh no, he has no issue with the idea of being bait ( he’s rather attractive enough to be so, after all ). Rather the issue arises with the realization that Fenris wants to use Dorian not as Dorian so much as use him as the heir to House Pavus. That’s shakier ground than their interaction, even.

          ❝ While it is never a bad day to kill those less pleasant Tevinters, slavers included, I fear I may poke a hole in that plan unintentionally. You see — I am currently unaware of my standing within my house, if I am even a welcome member any longer. I cannot say how interested anyone would be in me as bait. Is there… no other way, then..? Or perhaps have you heard something regarding me which led you to this idea? ❞ Dorian’s prepared for whatever backlash is to come from that admittance. He only hopes that the elf has enough sense not to ask for further details as to why Dorian has said what he has.

there are certainly things that fenris doesn’t know about the man across from him and perhaps he should have waited until he had all the pieces before laying out his consideration, but his expression doesn’t change even with the dismissal. he leans back some, the legs on the chair tipping to balance only on two, and he does think on it a moment. he’d known relationships between dorian and his family were, supposedly, shaky --- just how much so remained to be seen. 

fenris considers prying, then considers again. the dramatics of the elite weren’t really his concern unless it directly involved his blade. 

and then a smirk crawls it way across his mouth and his eyes are sharp ( pained and angry and personal ). “I think you underestimate just how much the people of our home care about recovering their property.” he folds his arms over his chest. “unless you really have nothing of value to offer, but since you are here aiding the inquisition i am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt in not being entirely useless.”

“it is an idea, at the very least. but i am... open to suggestions, if you have any.”

[lethendral]

altuspavus​.

          Had Dorian not been told how important it was that he be polite and welcoming to the Inquisition’s newest… ally, he supposes, he would already be standing up and leaving. Perhaps even knocking his chair over. He does have such a flair for the dramatic. Alas, that would not do… he cannot be so selfish, not given the circumstances. Instead, he focuses on tensing all of his muscles, forcing himself to stay put.

          „ I’m sorry that you believe the only men who can make a difference are those in the highest echelons of society. I cannot imagine what must have happened to you to cause that. ” Dorian tuts softly and allows his gaze to wander over the elf. The… tattoos, he reasons, are fascinating, catching his attention. Best not to ask, however ; he knows he stands on shaky ground already. Perhaps they told the story of why this man is so against Dorian despite solely knowing he is Tevinter.

          The apology, as unpleased as the elf — Fenris — seems to be to make it, very nearly startles Dorian. He’s pleased by the word, however. It’s something, at the least. Perhaps they could put up with each other for the necessary time. He does hope that it will be the least possible amount of time. „ As do I, ” he echoes hollowly. He can’t have the other man thinking Dorian some sort of idealist or anything ridiculous like that, after all.

          Finally, finally he knows why he must work with Fenris… and truly, Dorian is pleased. Incredibly pleased, in fact. His time spent away from the Imperium has shifted his views on slavery, has incorporated plans to help the country move away from it to the utilization of paid servants exclusively into his grand scheme to improve Tevinter. „ Of course, ” he practically scoffs, „ They can only be elusive for so long. Ideally that time is… coming to an end, yes? I am sure they will make gorgeous corpses. ”

fenris’ stare is sharp and pointed; he almost could have laughed. the kind of hollow sound that lets someone know just what dangerous ground they’re treading on, but a cautionary look from their dwarven mediation and he just settles for rolling his eyes. what difference would it make for him to bare his story to this tevinter mage --- he was the last person fenris wanted some insincere pity from as if apologies absolved the scars. 

he gauges him carefully as information is finally given and if nothing else it’s a... favorable response. fenris can’t say he really trusts it, a man who valued action beyond words, but then what action of these types were not riddled with subtly? always an ulterior motive. the picture being painted was a pretty one from selfish gain. eliminate a thorn in the side of his name. 

assumptions are set aside, for the time before, before he gets too caught up in his annoyance over imagined slights. “we agree upon something,” and as tenuous of an agreement it is, perhaps it will be enough to carry them to the end of this. a swift end, hopefully. fenris hates it here, solitary tempo thrown off with all the people and the complications which came with them. 

“tacking them has only gotten me so far, which means it is time for a different approach. bait. you.”

[lethendral]

𝐌𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭!                            𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝, 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦! ©

[lethendral]

me taking a baseball bat to dragon age canon

[lethendral]

on one hand fenris’ not aging since he got his markings means i’d have to make him older than i originally planned bcus i am Not playing a physically 15 yr old dude, but on the other hand...... fenris not aging since he got his markings is so ripe for pain and suffering.......

[lethendral]

fatetcrn​.

               “ You should pick your battles more carefully, Blondie! ” comes a voice out of the smoke and rowdy chatter behind him.  Mouth draws a thin line as eyes snap down to the cards splayed between them then back to narrow suspiciously at Fenris. Every single time! The heavily charged air could instantly incinerate anything that passed between them.                 “ — Oh, stop gloating. As if I’m to believe you have none of Isabela’s little tricks up your sleeve, ” He lays down his hand in defeat. “ All this means is you’ve coin enough to get us more ale. ”  

“what sleeves?” fenris jests, vaguely holding up his arms which are, indeed, devoid of sleeves. there’s a smarmy look about him, he finds little better pleasure than ruffling those feathers the mage wears around his shoulders. petty? possibly, but if anyone ever had it coming it was anders. 

he doesn’t really want to buy the mage any drinks, but refusing seems too predictable. “fine, i suppose you have earned a drink after that series of embarrassing defeats.” 

[lethendral]

@makercursed asked:  ‘ lean on me. ’

pride insists otherwise, the prickly instinct to brush off and avoid contact under most circumstances. he does not want to be touched and for all of the reasons he follows her trust is still fickle when it’s magic crackling at fingertips. but she’s already at his side and the lyrium under his skin throbs right down to his bones. this would not be the first time pain has rendered him immobile, overexertion in the wake of anger ( he’d known the face of this one, now unrecognizable where the body lay mangled ). it was, however, the first time someone was willing to help. 

he breaths heavily though his done, an irritated sigh of defeat. somewhere behind them someone snickers, because it’s truly an amusing sight giving the disparity of their heights. fenris more or less tucked under her arm while his own stretches around a broad back to grip her shoulder tightly. “just get us back to the city. i will be fine by then.”

[lethendral]

* hurt prompts

‘ are you bleeding? ’

‘ take it easy. you hit your head. ’

‘ where does it hurt? ’ 

‘ sit still and let me take a look! ’

‘ how did you get that black eye? ’ 

‘ you should see the other guy. ’ 

‘ did i say you could get out of bed? ’

‘ that’s going to leave a bruise. ’

‘ i’ll get some ice. ’ 

‘ that’s what you get for picking fights. ’

‘ are you trying to give me a heart attack? ’

‘ what’s wrong with you? ’

‘ you can barely stand. ’

‘ did you throw the first punch? ’

‘ that’s a nasty bump. ’

‘ get in the car. you’re going to the hospital. ’

‘ at least bandage it. ’ 

‘ no, you’ll get an infection. ’ 

‘ wet floor signs are there for a reason, you know. ’

‘ you’re lucky. that icicle could’ve killed you. ’

‘ where’s your gratitude? i rescued you! ’

‘ i’m calling the nurse. ’

‘ was that stupid dare worth it? ’

‘ what happened to you? ’

‘ sit down. i’ll make some hot chocolate and fix you right up. ’

‘ are those bandages? ’

‘ you need stitches. ’

‘ look out for that tree branch. ’

‘ i’ve got you. just stay awake. can you do that for me? ’

‘ lean on me. ’

‘ you got two choices: let me carry you, or die out here. take your pick. ’

‘ shit, you’re burning up. ’  

‘ you’re not dying. it’s only a sprained ankle. ’

‘ lie down. ’

‘ i’m sorry. i know it hurts. here, hold my hand. ’

‘ you’re in no condition to be walking around. ’

‘ wake up! wake up! ’

‘ i don’t feel sorry for you. ’

‘ look at your face! ’

[lethendral]

her...

[lethendral]

mun & muse

ya we gay keep scrollin

tagged by: @arallyingcry

tagging: whoever wants to n hasnt been tagged....

[lethendral]

🤔

[lethendral]

nightdraught​.

——— * ❀ SHAME ON ARTEMIS, HONESTLY, FOR FOCUSING SO HARD ON STEALTH. these parties are all alike, for all that the decorations might change there have been at least thirty parties identical to this one this year alone. mind you, it’s only just hit bloomingtide the week before. the same masks, the same tastefully extravagant decor, the same faint piping horns and harpsichords by what is probably the same bards. it’s all static, really.

                 the only reason he comes is to keep one ear out for information, whether genuinely useful or just interesting. there’s been some rumors brewing about something of an upstart further up east he’s been eager to glean more on, the rest is unusually tame, recycled gossip. which he doesn’t trust for a second. so perhaps he’d made his way up to a slightly less than authorized area upstairs to poke around. and summarily had a very, very close to guards patrolling the rooms for interlopers that had sent him scampering right back down towards the party with a couple of shouts at his back.

                 his attention had been more on a very specific bit of his environment than on the door behind him, and the force of another body at his back sends him stumbling and swearing fluently in orlesian as he barely manages to stay upright. “ what — “ he turns as the apology registers, gaze drifting towards the voice of his would-be aggressor and suddenly feels enthusiastically grateful for the mask shrouding his features. his words choke off in surprise. elven man, not a guard, dressed as a guest. highly unusual but much less of a liability, thank the powers that be. 

                 “ ah. er, oh. i’m… alright, excuse me. i hadn’t realized i was in the way, ser. are you alright ? “ they ask, aware of how breathless and hunted they sound. hopefully the guards weren’t too close behind.

he hates that the reaction is a relief. that he was expecting more orlesian superiority complex and howling about what a grievous wrong he had just done them as if they weren’t the ones just standing about right in front of a door. a cursory glance is spared to him, brows furrowing heavily as somehow the... politeness is almost more unsettling, in a way. orlesians, as far as he could tell, only used it as a front for the sake of wanting something. 

fenris had a thing for generalizations. 

the slight, out of breath heave to their words didn’t help cast away suspicion. just what had they been up too ---

“ah, yes, i am fine.” he ignores the dull sting in his hands. “just, needed to step away from all the... great... festivities, for a moment. get some fresh air, but i think i have gone the wrong way.” if nothing else he can get some directions out of this.

[lethendral]

i miss.... my isabela blog jksdjk

[lethendral]

if fenris was a girl he’d be one of the most hated characters in the game & if merrill was a boy she’d be one of the most beloved and this is just an unfortunate fact

[lethendral]

he takes his rest where he can, ducking into rotting buildings that reek of mold and structural instability. abandoned, run down places suited only for the rats and the desperate; the latter of which he most certainly is. but even a partial roof was preferable to the open streets --- or the reliance on someone else’s charity when there was no coin to be spared. often there was not. fenris had no qualms with stealing, but coin was better spent on bribery and food than shelter more often than not. 

besides, he’d made do with worse accommodations. 

but peace is always temporary. it’s a good thing he knows this, letting no rest truly come to him with the constant pulse of paranoid survival instincts running like the lyrium in his veins. fenris is aware of the presence the moment they step through the threshold. makes no noise. holds he’s breath. he’s not unwilling to share a space, but then --- his eyes catch the staff. 

it’s his own name that sets him off. 

fenris is on his feet and rushing in an instant, lyrium lines along his skin brightening with the surge of anger and fear. “i am not going back.” the blade comes down heavily. it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t recognize this man. this man knows him and that can mean only one thing.

Another week spent traveling through another packed city – it all looked the same to Garlan, but he was here for a purpose. He was on the verge of coming face to face with something that started out simply as a phrase written on a piece of paper: ‘lyrium, armour skin??’. The words around it were lacking any real cohesion, irrelevant to what what was jotted down, but with it, a name. That name, the person whom it belonged to, had led Garlan to another person, and so on. Weeks of traveling around Vyrantium and beyond, hunting down people ( with the occasional need for intimidation, which as he had learned, most took him a fool for… ), but, he had made considerable progress. 

Garlan had a bundle of papers, notes of his own making and that of his former teacher’s, which connected this thing to a specific group of people. Dealers, smugglers? No one ever really wanted to give him a straight answer, yet through his perseverance, the mage had come to what he only hoped would be his final destination; a chance to see this armour in person.

It’s a building, unassuming, damp and creaky, and Garlan presses on, using his staff to push away the debris to clear him a path. An elf, male, maybe a mage, has a connection to slavers – nothing he knew was truly clear. Garlan knew he likely had more more misinformation than truth, but to sate his own curiosity, he wanted to know.

He’s almost startled to see someone, at the very back of the building, and he breathes, loudly, staff pointed into the open space.

❝ Are you Fenris? ❞

@lethendral​ / plotted!

[lethendral]

drags hands down face