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Michael couldn’t exactly say he was disappointed when they were sent away. On the one hand, he did want to help out as much as he could. On the other hand, they were far from short-staffed, and the woman was right, they did need some time to catch up. He wanted to tell Sebastian everything that had happened in the time since he’d left. He wanted to know everything that had happened in his life since last he saw him.

“What a...colorful name for a tavern,” he chuckled. “I won’t say no to a good bowl of stew, though. Maker knows, I’ve been lacking a decent meal for days now, and my belly would love somethin’ in it.” And, honestly, even if it wasn’t the best, he could go for a drink too. The last few days had worn on his nerves more than he had realized.

Reunited

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“Sorry if I startled you. Seemed easier just to wing it.” He retrieved his glass eye from the bed and began to clean it of the gore that had smudged its surface. He carefully pushed it back into its socket, blinking a few times to adjust. When he noticed Marlo staring at him in horror, he laughed.

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I lost it ages ago. I certainly wouldn’t have popped out my own eye just for a laugh.” He reached for a rag and began to wipe down his face, hoping to get all the blood before it dried. “Did I miss any spots?”

Sleep, Interrupted

spare-to-the-heir:

Michael didn’t have time to really ponder if this was a good idea or not. This mage needed his help. Once the templars were gone, he could determine if he was a real threat or not, or they could come up with a true plan. Until then, this would have to do.

He reached for his crossbow bolt and pierced the palm of his hand, fresh red blood running down his wrist. He reached up to dig his fingers into the socket that held his fake eye, yanking it out in a practiced motion and flinging it onto the bed. As the clanking footsteps grew closer, he threw open the door with a yell.

“Help! Blood mage!!” He stumbled toward them with a fake sob. “He stole my eye and ran off into the woods! You have to stop him!” He pointed out the window to the thatch of trees surrounding the inn. “Look, he’s getting away! Hurry!”

He was kind of surprised that it worked. All the templars began immediately filing out of the inn, in the fictional direction he’d sent them. Within minutes, every templar was gone.

  Help, his apparent saviour yelled, blood mage! and Marlo’s blood ran cold. What?! But– He’d… he thought he could trust this guy! Oh no. Now he was trapped in this room, under this bed. The templars would be able to grab him easy. Perhaps if he slipped out now and– Wait…   Biting on the crook of his index finger, he listened to the rest of what Michael was telling them. Stole his eye and ran off into the woods? … Getting away…? He chewed on the digit to try and alleviate his anxiety. Oh. Maybe… Maybe he was helping him after all.   Only when the footsteps died away and he heard shouts from outside growing fainter did Marlo slip out from under the bed and climb back to his feet. He wasn’t sure what to say. He felt like he owed the guy.   But when he opened his mouth and raised mismatched eyes gratefully to meet Michael’s gaze, all thanks died in his throat and a silent scream froze itself to his face. His… his… eye… the… blood… what… what…?!

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Michael didn’t have time to really ponder if this was a good idea or not. This mage needed his help. Once the templars were gone, he could determine if he was a real threat or not, or they could come up with a true plan. Until then, this would have to do.

He reached for his crossbow bolt and pierced the palm of his hand, fresh red blood running down his wrist. He reached up to dig his fingers into the socket that held his fake eye, yanking it out in a practiced motion and flinging it onto the bed. As the clanking footsteps grew closer, he threw open the door with a yell.

“Help! Blood mage!!” He stumbled toward them with a fake sob. “He stole my eye and ran off into the woods! You have to stop him!” He pointed out the window to the thatch of trees surrounding the inn. “Look, he’s getting away! Hurry!”

He was kind of surprised that it worked. All the templars began immediately filing out of the inn, in the fictional direction he’d sent them. Within minutes, every templar was gone.

Sleep, Interrupted

spare-to-the-heir:

Well, the stranger had a good point. He could easily lie and say he wasn’t. However, it seemed like he was telling the truth, at least for now. He was desperate, and running, and if he’d wanted to steal from him he probably would have been a bit more inconspicuous about slipping inside.

Michael quickly put two and two together. If this man was running, from armored guards from the sound of it, he was probably an apostate. If that were the case, catching him meant he’d be dragged back to the circle, and possibly punished for running away. He’d heard stories of the terrible things they did to their escaped mages, and while he had no real obligation to help him, he did feel like he would regret it if he didn’t.

He set his crossbow aside and motioned for him to get under the bed. He had a plan, but with the templars right outside he couldn’t explain it properly. He just hoped the apostate would listen to him, and ask questions later.

  Bewilderment met Michael’s gesture, but despite his paranoia, Marlo couldn’t see any other way out of this situation. It would be best for him to co-operate with the crossbow-wielding gentleman and hope that he didn’t immediately sell him out to the templars.   If worst came to worst, he had his magic. He’d been practicing an explosive fire spell that would buy him enough time to escape at least – although it did have the major downside; in these close quarters, it would undoubtedly bring harm to people. At least the templars had their armour. But Mr. Crossbow, though…? Well… He would deserve it if he betrayed him! Right…? Mm… He just… hoped it wouldn’t come to that.   After only a brief moment’s hesitation, Marlo did as he was told and moved quickly over to the bed to slide underneath it on his belly. Biting his lip and trying to keep his twitchy fingers still, he settled down and waited in silence to see what the stranger had planned.

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“Ah...my eye?” Michael’s hand went to the glass eye sitting snugly inside the socket. “Yes, it is fake. I lost the eye some time ago.” Whoever this boy was, he made him a bit nervous, but he didn’t seem to be openly hostile. Just odd. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

He stared. Openly, an unabashed study of the figure ahead. Most might turn a subtle eye to glance if intrigue was captured but not him. He watched without hindrance, without a mask to shield his eyes from making their mark.

Michael glanced at the strange boy and smiled nervously. He was surveying him a bit too closely for comfort. “Er…hello, there.”

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“Of course.” Michael moved away, smiling down at his brother. “Surely, there’s something I could help with?” As much as he desperately wanted to spend some alone time with his brother, newly reunited as they were, he didn’t want to take him away from such an important task. The devastation had clearly been massive, and the injured numerous. There would be time later, he hoped. For now he just wanted to stay by Sebastian’s side.

Reunited

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He stared. Openly, an unabashed study of the figure ahead. Most might turn a subtle eye to glance if intrigue was captured but not him. He watched without hindrance, without a mask to shield his eyes from making their mark.

Michael glanced at the strange boy and smiled nervously. He was surveying him a bit too closely for comfort. “Er...hello, there.”

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Well, the stranger had a good point. He could easily lie and say he wasn’t. However, it seemed like he was telling the truth, at least for now. He was desperate, and running, and if he’d wanted to steal from him he probably would have been a bit more inconspicuous about slipping inside.

Michael quickly put two and two together. If this man was running, from armored guards from the sound of it, he was probably an apostate. If that were the case, catching him meant he’d be dragged back to the circle, and possibly punished for running away. He’d heard stories of the terrible things they did to their escaped mages, and while he had no real obligation to help him, he did feel like he would regret it if he didn’t.

He set his crossbow aside and motioned for him to get under the bed. He had a plan, but with the templars right outside he couldn’t explain it properly. He just hoped the apostate would listen to him, and ask questions later.

Sleep, Interrupted

spare-to-the-heir:

Though Michael definitely wasn’t going to shoot, he didn’t need to let this intruder know that. He held his crossbow steady and motioned for the stranger to move away from the door.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to ignore the way his heart was beating so fast it felt like it would pop out of his chest. “Are you here to rob me? Because I can promise you that’s a bad plan.”

  Marlo’s mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out a decent plan for Not Getting Shot. He wondered whether he would have enough time to cast anything before a bolt wound up sticking out of his face. No, was his conclusion. Likely not. And the sudden appearance of magic would only draw unwanted attention.   Cautiously, he edged away from the door as instructed, keeping his hands by his head in full view, and cast a calculating glance around the room to take note of his immediate surroundings. Just outside, he could hear the muffled voices of the templars questioning where he had disappeared to.    “If I was here to rob you, why would I tell you?” he responded in a loud whisper, mismatched eyes flitting between the crossbow and Michael’s face. “Bad plan’s an understatement, considering you have all the cards and I’ve an empty deck.”   Slow, heavy footsteps from outside the door alerted him to the return of the templars. Visible anxiety crossed his face and a desperate note slid into his tone.   “Just for the record, I’m not, okay? I’m not here to rob you. Just please – please stay quiet, and don’t open the door.”

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apparently  these  get  around  faster  than  normal  promos  so  !     LIKE  or  REBLOG  this  post  if  you’re  interested   in  writing  with  an  indie    josephine montilyet    from  bioware’s  dragon age inquisition  !     ( although  reblogs  would  be  appreciated  uwu   )      &    i’ll  check  your  blog  out !  

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“Mmm?” Panic nearly set in when Michael felt arms close about his head, but when he opened his eyes and saw that it was only Sebastian, he breathed a sigh of relief. Now an adult, his little brother resembled a child so much right now. So vulnerable and scared.

Michael moved so he could embrace his brother in turn, sitting up on the cot. “Shh, it’s okay...I’m here now.” He remembered just how much Sebastian had relied on him as a child. Those protective instincts kicked back in seeing him like this. “You’re okay...I’m not going anywhere.”

Reunited

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Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl Sentence Meme

“Cursed pirates sail these waters. You don’t want to bring them down on us now, do you?”

“Bad luck to be singing about pirates with us mired in this unnatural fog.”

“It’s bad luck to have a woman on board.”

“I think it’d be rather exciting to meet a pirate.”

“I intend to see to it that any man who wails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves—a short drop and a sudden stop.”

“You’re a pirate.”

“A fine gentleman, don’t you think? He fancies you, you know.”

“The blade is folded steel. That’s gold filigree laid into the handle.”

“I had a dream about you last night.”

“Apparently there’s some sort of high toned and fancy to do up at the fort, eh?”

“You’ve seen a ship with black sails that’s crewed by the damned and captured by a man so evil that Hell itself spat him back out?”

“I confess, it is my invention to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder, and otherwise pilfer my weasely black heart out.”

“Pride of the king’s navy, you are.”

“Do you really intend to kill my rescuer?”

“You are without a doubt the worst pirate I’ve ever heard of.”

“Pirate or not, this man saved my life.”

“One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness.”

“I saved your life, you save mine, we’re square.”

“You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?”

“I make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates.”

“Do you think this wise boy—crossing blades with a pirate?”

“I practice three hours a day so that when I meet a pirate, I can kill it.”

“He is a fine man, he’s what any woman should dream of marrying.”

“No survivors? Then where do the stories come from, I wonder.”

“Parley. I invoke the right of parley.”

“My sympathies, friend, you’ve no manner of luck at all.”

“The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers.”

“You know nothing of Hell.”

“I’m disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Mean’s no.”

“You are not a military man, you are not a sailor.”

“You want to turn pirate yourself, is that it?”

“If you’re intending to brave all, hasten to her and so win fair lady’s heart, you’ll have to do it alone.”

“This is either madness or brilliance.”

“That is without doubt the worst pirate I have ever seen.”

“I’m not a simpleton. You knew my father.”

“My father was not a pirate.”

“That’s not much incentive for me to fight fair then, is it?”

“The only rules that really matter are these—what a man can do and what a man can’t do.”

“He’s not a man to suffer fools, nor strike a bargain with one.”

“Take what you can, give nothing back.”

“Any mortal that removes but a single piece from that stone chest shall be punished for eternity.”

“I hardly believe in ghost stories anymore.”

“All the pleasurable company in the world could not slake our lust.”

“We are cursed men.”

“Compelled by greed, we were, but now we are consumed by it.”

“We are not among the living and so we cannot die, but neither are we dead.”

“I feel nothing- not the wind on my face nor the spray of the sea, nor the warmth of a woman’s touch.”

“You best start believing in ghost stories. You’re in one.”

“Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?”

“It’s frightful bad luck to bring a woman aboard.”

“Puts a chill in the bones how many honest sailors have been claimed by this passage.”

“When a man is marooned he is give a pistol with a single shot.”

“Pirates code. Any man that falls behind is left behind.”

“No heroes amongst thieves, eh?”

“For having such a bleak outlook on pirates, you’re well on your way to becoming one.”

“Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.”

“Our salvation is nigh! Our torment is near at end.”

“Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?”

“Who among us has paid the blood sacrificed to the heathen gods?”

“Begun by blood, by blood undone.”

“What sort of a man trades a man’s life for a ship?”

“People are easy to search when they’re dead.”

“Stop blowing holes in me ship.”

“If any of you as much as thinks the word parley, I’ll have your guts for garters.”

“His blood runs in my veins.”

“That’s the second time I’ve had to watch that man sail away with my ship.”

“Welcome to the Caribbean, love.”

“You’ll be positively the most fearsome pirate in the Spanish main.”

“What a ship is, is freedom.”

“I’m not entirely sure that I’ve had enough rum to allow that kind of talk.”

“Why is the rum gone?”

“It is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels.”

“There’ll be no living with her after this.”

“I beg you, please do this. For me. As a wedding gift.”

“A wedding? I love weddings! Drinks all around!”

“You get to die for her, just like you promised.”

“You’ve been planning this from the beginning. Ever since you learned my name.”

“Even a good decision if made for the wrong reasons can be a wrong decision.”

“Me? I’m dishonest and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest.”

“Will it be two immortals locked in an epic battle until Judgment Day and trumpets sound?”

“Hang the code and hang the rules! They’re more like guidelines anyway.”

“I’m gonna teach you the meaning of pain.”

“Do you like pain? Try wearing a corset.”

“I feel…cold.”

“If you were waiting for the opportune moment…that was it.”

“They done what’s right by them. Can’t expect more than that.”

“For those crimes you have been sentenced to be, on this day hung by the neck until dead.”

“I should have told you every day from the moment I met you. I love you.”

“So this is where your heart truly lies, then?”

“I want you to know that I was rooting for you, mate.”

“Perhaps on the rare occasion pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself can be the right course?”

“This is a beautiful sword. I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life.”

“I think we can afford to give him one day’s head start.”

“So this is the path you’ve chosen, is it?”

“Now, bring me the horizon.”

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Though Michael definitely wasn’t going to shoot, he didn’t need to let this intruder know that. He held his crossbow steady and motioned for the stranger to move away from the door.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to ignore the way his heart was beating so fast it felt like it would pop out of his chest. “Are you here to rob me? Because I can promise you that’s a bad plan.”

Sleep, Interrupted

spare-to-the-heir:

It was one of those rare times Michael actually decided to stop at an inn for the night. Normally, he camped out in the woods, too fearful of crowded rooms and the danger lurking wherever people managed to congregate. Today, though, his back was just a little too stiff, his skin just a little too chilled, and he couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping on the ground another night. He would risk it. Besides, he had the coin to spare.

The bed wasn’t exactly the softest, but the blanket was warm. When he thought back to the beds he’d slept in as a prince, it was a paltry substitute. He pushed that thought from his mind; best not to dwell on the past. After all, with his family dead, he was not a prince any longer.

A pair of loud, clanking footsteps rapidly approached his room. Instincts kicking in, he sat up, blindly reaching for his crossbow. He knew he would not use it, even against a possible threat, but he still felt safer with it in his arms.

The footsteps proceeded past his door and into the distance. He held his breath for a few seconds, then let it rush out in a woosh of air. Maybe someone badly needing the lavatory? Either way-

He nearly leapt from the bed as his door was suddenly flung open.

  Marlo had not had a good night. He hadn’t had a good month, really, but as pressing issues went, this night, right now, was not exactly going in his favour.   It had started out brilliantly. He’d stolen a few drinks, chatted up some interesting and attractive people, and had vanished into the night with their coin and valuables. Flogging their stuff to the local fence had gone smoothly, and he had been in the process of accepting his pay when the templars had burst in, swords drawn, looking for an odd-eyed apostate with short, black hair.   So much for that. The fence looked at Marlo, Marlo looked at the fence, the templars looked at Marlo, Marlo grinned at the templars, one of the templars pointed at his face, Marlo tried to grab the sack of coin, the fence snatched it out of his grasp, and Marlo bolted like a spooked cat.   Gods, how he wished teleportation spells existed. At least he had light feet and agility in his favour. Why templars chased people in full suits of armour, he’d never know. It would have been smarter for them to match speed for speed, surely. These ones were harder to shake than the last lot, unfortunately, and although he managed to put some distance between them, they were hunting him down like a bloodhound with his scent.   He hadn’t been keeping tabs on where he was going. His feet only knew that he needed to be away from Here, which wasn’t exactly helpful when he found himself bursting compulsively into an inn, and running straight up the stairs.   Just as he reached the top, the templars entered the building behind him, and he realised just what a grave error he had just made. Now he was trapped in the inn with them, and unless he dived out of the window, there was no escape. Shit.   Desperate eyes scanned his immediate surroundings. There were the rooms, a stack of boxes, the window– the boxes…    The templars clattered up the stairs like a can full of coins, and rounded the corner to find the mage completely gone. Spotting the window at the end of the hall, they made a beeline for it, assuming that the flighty apostate had risked life and limb to escape. They completely missed the shadow that darted out from the boxes behind them.   The door was unlocked. As quietly as humanly possible, Marlo flung it open, skidded inside, and shut it again with a click. Pressing his palms into the wood, he turned around, exhaled sharply – then froze. Someone else was in the room, sitting up in bed and staring right at him – was that a fucking crossbow?! His mouth went dry, and he flung up his hands, open-palmed.   In a loud whisper, he said the first thing that came to mind: “Don’t shoot!” 

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When Sebastian went limp in his arms, he nearly panicked. Was he injured? Some wound he had been hiding? But no, a quick glance told him all he needed to know: Sebastian was just exhausted. The deep bags under his eyes stood out starkly against his skin, and he had clearly been pushing himself to help in the makeshift hospital they had formed here in the courtyard. He needed sleep. And, frankly, so did Michael.

A friendly volunteer helped him get Sebastian onto a cot. There wasn’t a spare one for Michael, but truth be told he would rather it go to someone more in need. Besides, he didn’t think he could bear to leave Sebastian’s side. Not right now, anyway.

He settled down next to the cot and let his head rest on it. Within seconds, he was also asleep.

Reunited

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For a moment, Michael was afraid Sebastian had passed out. But no, he was still upright, still conscious, though clutching onto him as if he was the only thing keeping him that way. He forced a smile, watching his little brother’s eyes skirt frantically over him, and the confusion on his face that broke his heart.

He should have told him sooner.

“I...I had to go into hiding, Sebby. I was afraid...I was afraid whoever killed our...our family...would come back for me.” The exhaustion of the last few days finally caught up to him, and Michael sank to the ground with his arms still tight around his brother. He never wanted to let him go again. “I’m sorry...I’m so sorry...”

Reunited

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Michael nearly choked. He looked so tired, but it was him. He’d dreamed about this moment for so long. This reunion played over and over in his head for years, what it would be like to finally have some semblance of family again.

And Sebastian didn’t even recognize him.

He supposed that was to be expected...it wouldn’t even cross his mind that Michael would be alive, after all. It occurred to him that he could just walk away, and Sebastian would never know. But he’d come too far to duck out like that.

“Looks like you’ve...you’ve really taken to Chantry life...eh, Sebby?”

Reunited

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It was him.

It was him.

It was his little brother, unmistakably and undoubtedly. He had grown so much since Michael had seen him last, but there he was. After all these years.

He saw Sebastian move away from the crowd and to a private corner of the courtyard. Almost unconsciously, his legs started moving him toward the same corner. He was scared, of course. He hadn’t seen him in almost a decade. But now that he was here...he couldn’t just leave. He couldn’t go another second without speaking to him.

As he approached his brother, he began to slow. What if Sebastian didn’t even want to see him? What if he was angry he didn’t tell him he was still alive? He’d been through so much. Was this the right thing to do?

Reunited

Michael hadn’t been able to sleep for the better part of a week. Not since he heard the news.

In the back of his mind, he’d always known the possibility existed that Sebastian had perished on the same day the rest of their family had. Whatever assassins came after them very well might have sought him out as well. He wanted to believe otherwise, though. All this time, he’d wanted to believe his little brother was happy and alive living amongst the cloister.

Well, maybe not happy, if he knew Sebastian…but at least alive.

Now, with the news that the Chantry had been attacked, destroyed, and the entire congregation dead…it didn’t feel real. It felt like some cruel joke that fate was playing on him. The one thing that comforted him, his brother’s survival, now being ripped away from him at a moment’s notice. It was too cruel for words.

That was why he found himself on the dusty streets of Kirkwall, through the crowds of lowtown all the way through the cobbled roads of hightown. He had to see it for himself. It wouldn’t be real otherwise. He couldn’t bear to see Sebastian’s body, but if he saw the destruction that would be enough, and at least he would know.

As he approached the Chantry, he could see right away the rumors were true. The once imposing building was now reduced to rubble, a pile of rock with statues of Andraste littered all around. The courtyard was cleared, though, and beds set up under high tents. Some sort of makeshift hospital perhaps.

Though his curiosity regarding the Chantry was now sated, Michael found himself hesitating. There was one figure in the distance, tending to some wounded. They were turned away from him, but their armor looked so similar to the one his father had had made for Sebastian. And that auburn hair looked very much the same shade as his brother’s.

Against his better judgement, he moved closer, trying to get a better glimpse. Was it possible?

[spare-to-the-heir-blog]

Reunited

Michael hadn’t been able to sleep for the better part of a week. Not since he heard the news.

In the back of his mind, he’d always known the possibility existed that Sebastian had perished on the same day the rest of their family had. Whatever assassins came after them very well might have sought him out as well. He wanted to believe otherwise, though. All this time, he’d wanted to believe his little brother was happy and alive living amongst the cloister.

Well, maybe not happy, if he knew Sebastian...but at least alive.

Now, with the news that the Chantry had been attacked, destroyed, and the entire congregation dead...it didn’t feel real. It felt like some cruel joke that fate was playing on him. The one thing that comforted him, his brother’s survival, now being ripped away from him at a moment’s notice. It was too cruel for words.

That was why he found himself on the dusty streets of Kirkwall, through the crowds of lowtown all the way through the cobbled roads of hightown. He had to see it for himself. It wouldn’t be real otherwise. He couldn’t bear to see Sebastian’s body, but if he saw the destruction that would be enough, and at least he would know.

As he approached the Chantry, he could see right away the rumors were true. The once imposing building was now reduced to rubble, a pile of rock with statues of Andraste littered all around. The courtyard was cleared, though, and beds set up under high tents. Some sort of makeshift hospital perhaps.

Though his curiosity regarding the Chantry was now sated, Michael found himself hesitating. There was one figure in the distance, tending to some wounded. They were turned away from him, but their armor looked so similar to the one his father had had made for Sebastian. And that auburn hair looked very much the same shade as his brother’s.

Against his better judgement, he moved closer, trying to get a better glimpse. Was it possible?

[spare-to-the-heir-blog]

Sleep, Interrupted

It was one of those rare times Michael actually decided to stop at an inn for the night. Normally, he camped out in the woods, too fearful of crowded rooms and the danger lurking wherever people managed to congregate. Today, though, his back was just a little too stiff, his skin just a little too chilled, and he couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping on the ground another night. He would risk it. Besides, he had the coin to spare.

The bed wasn’t exactly the softest, but the blanket was warm. When he thought back to the beds he’d slept in as a prince, it was a paltry substitute. He pushed that thought from his mind; best not to dwell on the past. After all, with his family dead, he was not a prince any longer.

A pair of loud, clanking footsteps rapidly approached his room. Instincts kicking in, he sat up, blindly reaching for his crossbow. He knew he would not use it, even against a possible threat, but he still felt safer with it in his arms.

The footsteps proceeded past his door and into the distance. He held his breath for a few seconds, then let it rush out in a woosh of air. Maybe someone badly needing the lavatory? Either way-

He nearly leapt from the bed as his door was suddenly flung open.