lostcaused

[lostcaused]

rorydouris‌:

          sat on her knees at the edge of camp with an unwavering focus between her sneezing, rory diligently sifted through a massive stack of old tomes and weathered documents; a report here, a log there - part of the overall effort to learn more about the western approach. each dusty discovery was punctuated by the tail end of a pinched ‘choo!’, the squeak as polite and muffled as she could make it. the bustle of camp easily drowned her out, though even then she could pick out the sound of someone approaching. no clink of metal or brush of leather; and rather than the heavy crunch of shod footsteps, the sand rustled gently under bare feet. that, combined with a glimpse of sun-blonde hair, gave rory an inkling of who it was; she turned with a smile. “letha,” she greeted, “i didn’t know you’d be here too.” another sneeze tweaked at her nose, and her face quickly scrunched up to stop it.

Gods, barely two days in and Letha’s already decided she hates the Western Approach. It’s arid, hot and far too open for her liking. She flits around camp with the supplies from Skyhold, setting it all up at one end as necessary. She takes the effort to circle around the perimeter each time rather than trudge through the centre, hoping to avoid interaction — she should’ve known it was wishful thinking. As she passes by the younger mage (Letha had barely even noticed her sitting there), she flinches at the greeting, but returns it anyway. “Rory,” she answers. “Yes, well — it seemed they needed a bit of extra help with camp provisions...” She trails off toward the end of her sentence, brows furrowing. She shifts the box of supplies in her arms. “What are you doing? ...With your face.”

[lostcaused]

storytellertm‌:

          the playful correspondence of letters spanned no more than a couple of days; when he went to drop off his next one, he found - miraculously - that the merchant was actually at her store, for once. with a raised brow and the letter in hand, he didn’t even greet her before he cleared his throat and recited its contents, with dramatic intonation, “o wise l, you learn something new everyday.” if she hadn’t realised who he was on sight, she’d surely recognise her ‘penpal’ now. “i don’t think i’d call myself a fan. just thought of getting it as a little gift for someone.” he tucked the paper away, as though bored with it. “rest of the letter asks if the nug’s still around, but since we’re here, i can see for myself, ey baubles?”

She’s known, of course, exactly who Varric was since the first note — but still she’s surprised to see the dwarf walking across the court toward her stall, and then (and then!) reading out his letter like some sort of news bulletin. She arches a brow and waits for him to finish, though her curiosity turns into a flicker of annoyance at the last word. “What?” Baubles? Her narrow-eyed expression is wary. “My name is Letha.” Absently, she shifts her things around, moving sketches and trinkets to one side, plucking out the glass nug in question — part of the delivery he’d helped her retrieve. It glistens with a misty translucence, a pale pink ornament with exquisite detail that was equally beautiful and ridiculous. “Still here. More than willing to part with it for a couple of gold coins.”

[lostcaused]

storytellertm‌:

o mysterious ‘l’,

gotta actually finish the book before i commit to illustrations, but i’ll keep in touch.

naw, i was just going to address all this to ‘the bauble collector’ and send it off on its own again, but i didn’t think that’d get very far. so i came to deliver it personally. the rest of the merchants told me only you sell this stuff, so here we are. i’m actually a bit disappointed you weren’t around. would’ve liked to ask about the glass nug.

- v

Varric,

I’m almost certain The Bauble Collector is the name of a black market dealer. The nug? I wouldn’t have taken you for a fan of those things. Old sculptor in Denerim was making them years ago. Think he’s stopped; hands shake too much now. Collectors see their value, though more often than not half these things are glorified paperweights. But, in the words of a particularly wise man, ‘commerce is commerce’.

— L

[lostcaused]

storytellertm‌:

          the letter was laid near a stack of admittedly impressive drawings at the merchant’s stall, half-pinned under a crate of assorted trinkets that were delivered in accompaniment. it started:

you’ve got a damn good eye. and good hand. ever considered book illustrations?

found this shipment on our last frolic out in the hinterlands. it’s addressed to skyhold, which is why it was so surprising to find it in the possession of a group of bandits. can’t tell what they’d want with all this - i’m not even sure what half these things are - but hey, commerce is commerce.

- varric tethras

Varric,

I’d consider it if it paid.

I hope those thieves got what was coming to them. I suppose I send my thanks for retrieving this shipment. Though I’m surprised there was any need for any sort of... correspondence. Or did you simply want to make clear who it was I owed a favour to?

— L

[lostcaused]

somnieral‌:

“I’d want everyone to know it was me. I’m sure they’d be a lot nicer to me for fear of their lives if nothing else.” Sora had no qualms about violence, whether it be within Skyhold’s walls or not. The elf had been through literal hell. They weren’t willing to go back or endure hateful people.

Sora burst into laughter at the other elf’s comment , covering her mouth with a snort. “Maker, they really do. But I’m done dwelling on them. They’re not important.” Dismissing them was easier than accepting they were still a bit more in power. “I’m Sora, by the way.”

Her crooked smile grows. Brave, then. Or foolish — but the elf speaks with confident capability; and she is inclined to believe more in the former. Though Letha considers herself adept with her combative abilities as much as her magic, keeping her head down has been essential for survival since fleeing the Circle. Even after it, she doesn’t quite have the freedom she’d expected. “Fear does tend to be effective,” she ends up saying. The other’s laugh catches her off-guard; it’s strange — almost a little uncomfortable — to hold a conversation without wariness or quiet aggression. “Letha,” she answers, the upturn of her lips growing a little less wry, a bit more genuine. 

[lostcaused]

doriianpavxs‌:

Looking towards the elf he was almost surprised to see her near him. But he had basically claim Skyhold’s small library as his own spot. “Old tower, old destroyed books. I suppose with the repairs they’re doing to skyhold there will eventually be time for books. Perhaps they will find some in the castle.”

Old, indeed. The place is a veritable mound of history, and yet none of it seems to have survived. She’s always been a bit of a reader, a curious learner, but Skyhold was quick to disappoint. “One can hope,” she murmurs, dejectedly closing the tome in her hands. “I wouldn’t hold my breath, though. Reading usually feels nicer during light rain, not when there’s a giant hole in the sky spitting out demons.”

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somnieral‌:

“No doubt. They’ve definitely called me worse not even one breath later. Though, tragically, we’re all very used to it now.” With Tevinter, at least, some elves were at least not despised simply because of their masters. Tragically, Sora didn’t have the most important master. So. She was used to it. “Surely if I told the higher ups that they deserved to have their tongues cut out, they wouldn’t be too mad, right?”

Tragically, indeed. “Don’t need to tell anyone anything if they don’t know it was you,” she posits with a crooked smile. Although she’s been — or is at least trying to be — less hostile among the Inquisition’s forces than she defaults to around most, Letha is abrasive and solitary by nature; it’s difficult, for her, being around frequent company. “If only it were so easy. Alas, I fear even if you sewed their mouths shut, they’d just find a way to talk out of their arses.” A pause, then a shrug. “Though they do a good enough job of that already.”

[lostcaused]

iscbelas‌:

Isabela looks up at the new voice, spotting the owner a few seats away, and her eyes wash over her – the sight isn’t unpleasant. “True,” she agrees, but then smirks with a shrug of her shoulders. “But at least you could never be worried about people being too bothered with your business there.” True, The Hanged Man had been a dive, but she had conducted many secret meetings there – and not so secret ones. Here, she wasn’t sure she’d be awarded the same privacy. 

Not bothered with your business? Sounds ideal, if she’s being honest. Now she’s almost regretting that she never got the chance to drop by. Not that she’d ever willingly return to Kirkwall. “Mm, I’ve never thought highly of the place, but you’re making a very good case for it,” Letha admits with a low, dry chuckle. “I wouldn’t say the folk here are all busybodies, but some do seem to like burying their noses in affairs that aren’t their own.” 

[lostcaused]

suvkanelf‌:

“I’ll just get scolded.” He huffed. It really wasn’t a good idea when he spent all day in the Tavern then went out scouting drunk. “The last time I went on a mission after the tavern, I returned with frostbite all over my arm and I didn’t even know it. Here’s some advice– never try to pass through a mage and templar fight drunk. Especially if the mage has ice magic.”

The mention of mages and templars has Letha bristling on instinct, but she conceals it with the arch of a brow. Curling up on the crate, she pulls her legs close to her and flips her parchment over. “...How many drinks did you have?” In the bottom right corner of the blank side, she absently begins to doodle the imagined scene: a mage and a templar duking it out, with a drunk Fenll caught in the middle. 

[lostcaused]

somnieral‌:

“Have I mentioned how annoyed I am with everyone calling me an apostate? Kaffas, aren’t all southern mages apostates now?” Sora had gotten sick of the shit they’d been called. Rabbit, go fetch me some water. Knife ear, grab that sword. Apostate, stay in your designated area. Blah blah blah. She was about to go crazy from it all.

“‘Apostate’ might be one of the better things to be called,” Letha admits with a wry smile. Name-calling was usually easy enough to deal with, truth be told — she remembers, as a child before the Circle, fleeing a group of drunken humans who had tried to chop off her ears for a laugh. She sighs, “You get used to it. Or you cut out their tongues in their sleep.” A joke. ...Probably. 

[lostcaused]

iscbelas‌:

Perched on a stool at the bar, the fingers of one hand curled around a mug of ale, the other as a resting spot for her chin, Isabela’s eyes took in her surroundings. She raised her glass a little, in a cheers motion, and took a sip, swallowing – then sighed. “Well, well, a step up from The Hanged Man, but I must admit, I did love that little place.”

The Hanged Man? It’s a name that strikes familiar against Letha’s memory, and she glances at the woman on the barstool a few seats away. She’d never personally been there — before or after the Circle — but she’d heard mention of the tavern in passing; which, more relevantly, meant that this woman had at least spent time in Kirkwall. Letha tenses at even so much as the memory of that place, but she can’t suppress her snort. “Much of anything would be a step up from Lowtown,” she says distastefully, more to herself than the other.

[lostcaused]

doriianpavxs‌:

“This library is rather dull. You think such an old castle would have a few old books laying around.” Dorian made a face before tossing one of the torn books aside. “A few readable old books. They’ve got plenty of this.” 

Letha curls up to one side of the library, reading — or attempting to read — a book in which half its pages were charred beyond recognition. “More kindling for the fires, at least?” She suggests with a shrug. She’s disappointed, honestly; for a fortress this magnificent, she’d hoped the knowledge it held would be vast. Alas, its prime was much too long ago. “You could always ask requisitions to get some. ‘Requesting: books that serve their actual purpose.’”

[lostcaused]

suvkanelf‌:

The Dalish elf huffed as he stared at the training dummy in front of him; a circle of arrows embedded in the head and one arrow stuck right in the crotch area. “I hope they don’t send us on another scouting mission. We just got back and I haven’t even gone to the tavern yet.” Drawing the string back on his bow; he let another arrow lose on the crotch of the dummy.

Letha quirks a brow from where she perches on a nearby crate. In her lap is a half-finished sketch of the fortress, her fingertips stained black with charcoal. “Then... go to the tavern?” she responds, brows furrowed. If he was complaining about it, why not go right now? Seeing as he had enough free time to mutilate a poor training dummy. She turns back down to her drawing, adding, “Or just tell them you need a break.”

[lostcaused]

i am... horrendously late to the party, but hi all! i’m tea, and i’m here to introduce you to my misanthropic city elf merchant mage, letha. tl;dr she’s from the kirkwall circle, trades in general goods, and hates everything. she’s got a more in-depth background here, if you’re up to reading it. otherwise, all you need to know is under the cut!

ANA DE ARMAS || introducing LETHA! at age 29, of FEMALE CITY ELF origin, born in THE FREE MARCHES, && best known as A MERCHANT / APOSTATE; she has just recently arrived at skyhold. she seems to be a MAGE, her known traits include ASTUTE, DISTRUSTFUL & ABRASIVE; and she stands with the inquisition.

letha is a city elf that hails from kirkwall’s circle of magi, a place she’s come to call “the ring of murder and madmen” in her head. prior to joining up with the inquisition as a merchant, she was a wandering apostate, travelling across borders, going south from the free marches to ferelden.

fierce and isolated on instinct, letha is the embodiment of morally ambiguous, and has taken her role as an outsider on as an identity: from being born in an alienage to being shunned as a mage, then fleeing her homeland after the rebellion — there’s nothing she understands more than being an outcast, and so feels a mixture of resentment and anger towards every little thing.

though it’s not possible nor entirely practical to fully hide the fact that she’s a mage, letha still does her best to conceal the fact from most strangers and common folk. she presents herself as a non-combatant, though she also keeps a dagger strapped to the outside of her thigh.

on the day-to-day, her services include trading in general goods, and she dabbles a little bit in art, as well — want a self-portrait or a beautiful landscape done? she’d be happy to oblige, for a price. she’s skilled particularly with charcoal drawings, largely because that was the easiest medium for her to get access to, growing up as she did.

when it comes to relationships with letha, friends don’t come easy. she can be fairly charming, and does like to have a laugh (though most of the time at other people’s expense), so acquaintances are likely — but in terms of genuine friends, she will have about as few as you’d expect for someone like her. any that she did have, however, she would hold very, very dear.

on the flip side, as someone who fends for herself and herself alone, letha is bound to have made her fair share of enemies along the way. while she’d be instinctively guarded around most templars, she’d also be wary around other mages; she’s scathing and isolated on instinct, and can be hard to get along with.

lastly, letha isn’t the type to consider much in the way of romance; physical affection is more likely, but still relatively rare. she’s the type to spend a night and leave the following morning — before you wake and without a note. she knows little of love and courtship, and probably wouldn’t know what to do with real feelings if she had them.

come plot with her maybe?? i’m open to pretty much any ideas, so feel free to drop into my IMs here on tumblr, or find me at koala tea#4782!