#{{ it is not death i refuse but extinction }} inquisitor

[pellelavellan]

@quiisquiliae from here

"There is always a lesser evil." The inquisitor insisted.

He expected backlash for the choices made at the masquerade ball from a number of people: his advisers, the people of Orlais, shit even people who weren't Orlesian. He'd done what he had to, and as far as he was concerned had done nothing he wasn't told to do. He was told to make a decision, and he did. The circumstances were not perfect, but he saw an opportunity fall in front of him and he took it.

He wasn't happy about cozying up to people who would certainly sell him for a crust of bread, doing them favors, smiling and thanking them for backhanded compliments. He hated every second of it. But that was the game had to be played. It was necessary to play people, get them to think he was on uninformed of their political squabble or they'd keep their mouths shut. If he knew anything about the sorts of people that wandered that ballroom, it was that they loved to talk about themselves, and thought their opinions and ambitions were the most interesting thing to be heard. So he let them think whatever they wanted if it got them babbling.

Truth was he had done his research, and he had actually hoped he might meet Briala at the ball. There were questions that needed answers. Some she could tell him herself and some her body language and inflections would tell for her.

He needed to know if somewhere down there she still cared for the Empress, or the Empress for her. He got that answer, and he used that information accordingly.

"I know what you must think. I acted with an agenda to impose. I manipulated two women who have no business together into forgiving each other, one of which as I see it has no right to forgiveness. I put in a precarious situation to prove a point, and used their affections for each other against them. But do you not think it is better this way for them to see that two people, and one who they would otherwise overlook can work together? Do you not see that men who will do anything to seize power are better off removed before they become a deeper problem?" He sighed. Talon wasn't really the person to argue this with.

It wasn't like Talon was deeply involved in the political turmoil that was the Orlesian court, or that he could perchance offer a better solution. He had asked a question, he hadn't accused him or anything.

"Listen, I don't know if I did the right thing. That's kind of the shitty part about all of this isn't it?" He was very stressed, visibly so. Pacing around the war room babbling all his concerns to no one in particular. The feelings he had were somewhere between anger and fear. Angry that he was certain some would see his actions as a threat, or a ploy to force his ideals onto an entire country, and afraid of the consequences those notions would create. "I don't think anyone knows really. We all just do things and hope they don't come back to bite us in the ass. This certainly will, and I know, I fucking know it will!"

[pellelavellan]

"Hardly," he confirmed.

He hadn't mentioned it to Talon but he didn't let very many people touch his hair. While it may have seemed vain to some, it was one of his favorite things about himself, and so he had a tendency to guard it. It wasn't that he disliked hands other than his own running through it, he just preferred the he trusted the person whose hands were touching him. He did trust Talon, even if the assassin would certainly ask him to reconsider.

"You know, when I was a child, my mother used to braid together these beautiful crowns from flowers and sticks and would shape them into halla horns and place them on my head."

@pellelavellan from X

Pelle's hair was objectively stunning, especially when all done up with the braids and beads. Talon had been all but dying to know what it would look like with flowers woven into it. Something about the imagined result somehow seemed rather fitting for the elf, with his gentle nature and affinity for nature.

The wildflowers he'd found seemed fitting, or at least would do the trick. Small light blues and pinks, some large bright yellows. What any of them were he couldn't say, but the colors would be pretty in the long golden locks.

"Bandit kicks if I ain't," he laughed, beginning to separate it into 3 sections, deeming it sufficiently detangled. "Ain't had any other practice in quite awhile, didn't think you'd mind."

[wryter324]

Final Fantasy XIV's plot has a lot of mystery, deception, betrayal, and hidden sides

At least A Realm Reborn does. I started playing in January of this year, so maybe I'm late to the realization, but:

Everything to do with the Ascians (mystery, hidden sides): Their objectives and motivations are a giant mystery the plot revolves around unraveling, and all of them are people who cast aside their original identities

Foulques' backstory in the Lancer questline (mystery, betrayal): Part of a group that embezzled funds from the Lancer's Guild in private who couldn't bear the guilt and sought to confess, but the rest of his group backed out and let him take the full blame, turning him bitter and driving him to accuse the entire Guild of cowardice.

The side story of Edda, a novice conjurer (deception, betrayal, hidden sides): After losing her fiancé, she acts like she's going to give him his proper rites and move on as an adventurer after being inspired by you, but secretly delves into a mad quest to resurrect him.

"Into a Copper Hell" (mystery, deception): You catch a merchant accusing an innocent woman of stealing from him.

"What Poor People Think" and "Dressed to Deceive" (deception): The same merchant, Ungust, deflects suspicion away from himself in an investigation of a missing persons case. You then catch him duping wayward souls into Amal'jaa capture by posing as a priest.

"Lord of the Inferno" (deception, betrayal): After coercing Ungust into helping retaliate against the Amal'jaa, it turns out he AND a traitorous member of the Immortal Flames played you into a trap.

Trachtoum (deception): A random Roegadyn who dupes you into doing labor for him, under the guise of him being a former member of the Company of Heroes testing your mettle in your quest to face Titan. The most benign example of deception I could think of, but after you're done with him, you meet Wheiskaet, a real member of the Company of Heroes who also subjects you to a series of menial tasks as a test of your mettle.

"Give a Man a Drink" (mystery, betrayal, hidden sides): You discover the existence of a grape vine thought to be extinct post-Calamity, thanks to Drest, a homeless man with PTSD revealed to be an Imperial deserter pining for his true home country. Some of his former allies seek him out for revenge in a Deputy Postmoogle sidequest, but you don't find out until Stormblood that his home country was Damasca.

Cid nan Garlond (mystery, hidden sides): During your initial time with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, you meet up with Biggs and Wedge, a pair of engineers who worked under a "Master Garlond" and sorely wish he was still here to help them. In the early quest "A Proper Burial", you meet an enigmatic priest named Marques, who turns out to be an amnesiac tech genius trying to understand his own abilities in "You Can't Take It with You", then Alphinaud outs him as Garlond in "Eyes on Me", revealing his full name in the process.

The entire MSQ from "Cold Reception" to "The Heretic Among Us" (mystery, deception): The Ishgardian High Houses refuse to trust you because you're an outsider, forcing you (an outsider) to solve their problems and unravel a conspiracy taking place under their noses. Inquisitor Guillaime has the unwavering trust of the Ishgardians in the Coerthas Central Highlands, able to turn them against you with a single claim no one thinks to doubt. Of course, he turns out to be an impostor and the heretic behind the conspiracy, who has sent countless innocent people to their deaths to spite House Durendaire. Even in his dying moments, he taunts Drillemont with the fact that the latter blindly permitted those deaths along with the deaths of any who dared to question Ishgard's crusade.

And that's only as far as I've gotten in the game and looked up on the wiki. I'm also led to understand that there's a main story quest where you get in on the deception by impersonating an Imperial soldier to infiltrate their ranks.

I find it weird how much the game uses this trope. All this mystery gets stale after a while.

Open to discussion, all spoilers allowed.

[pellelavellan]

"Is there really ever such a thing as an accident?"

Pelle raised one eyebrow at Sylvia. He seemed to actually genuinely think about the question, the wheels clearly turning in his head. He tried to think back on the accidents he'd either witnessed or been a part of and began to analyze them, but found that he couldn't recall every minute detail of them on command.

Then he looked at the unconscious assassin that had attempted to jump him lying on the ground. He'd apologized to him as if his intentions weren't to take his life, but he felt a bit bad that in his alarm he'd blasted the poor fellow with enough magical force to grant him flight before inevitably crashing into a stone wall.

He didn't really mean to do that, though he supposed to call it an accident and not a reaction of self defense wasn't entirely true which made Sylvia correct.

"Didn't take you for a philosopher," he commented. "Is this your way of telling me to stop apologizing to people that just tried to kill me?"

[pellelavellan]

He hesitated telling her. Why? He wasn't sure. Maybe an instinctual need to prevent people from worrying about or some deeply ingrained urge to protect himself from appearing weak was the cause. Mythal knew he'd felt a certain pressure to appear unshaken by the horrors he was forced to witness being engaged in an active war, even more so as a man leading hundreds of people. The feeling was not foreign. He'd felt the same when the torch of guiding a clan that had fallen into disarray fell into his hands. He'd never gotten used to the heat of it. Where some might stop noticing when little embers jumped from the flame onto their skin, he still winced every time they singed a hair.

Elissa was not a threat. Though human she might have been he'd never sensed a combative nature towards from her since they'd met. He could not say the same of everyone he called friend and while many hahrens might declare him foolish he liked to believe that his senses did not fool him. He was not in danger in her presence, not from her at least.

"I've been having this awful dream lately," he confided. "I'm back home in the Marches but I'm a child. I'm by myself in the woods, but I'm not lost I know exactly where I am. I'm looking for a baby halla that lost its way to bring it back to the village. I search for a while until finally I find it, but when I reach out to touch it the youngling rots at my fingertips. I jump back in fear, horrified by the decayed patch on the halla's face when I notice that the grass under my feet is beginning to die too, as does the next patch of ground that I stumble back onto in my alarm. Actually...everything that I touch thereafter rots and decays when I touch it. I try to run from it, but I can't of course. The thing that is killing everything around me is me. I start to cry and flee aimlessly until I wind up at a small clearing of water I used to frequent and bury my face in my hands. The dream always ends when I look at my reflection in the water and catch a glimpse of my own face rotting away as well."

He thought he might feel better if he told someone else about it. He did not. Explaining it to someone else only made the most frightening detail stand out: everything he touched rotted and died.

"I have a--" he began, then paused, recalling the passage of time since his childhood. "I had a hahren who was very interested in dreams." he corrected himself. "She used to teach me about all the strange and hidden meanings in dreams. I wonder what she would have made of this one. "

"Probably something wise that I hadn't even considered," he thought aloud. "She passed a long time ago . She was very old." he thought to include though though he felt like he was not so much assuring Elissa so much as he was repeating what his elders had told him when she passed on to ease the pain of a grieving child.

pellelavellan​:

He hesitated if he should take her up on her offer. She wasn’t wrong–he was cold now that the sweat he’d woken in had done him the lovey favor of chilling him significantly. That had been the intention yes but…the temperature had taken some liberties on just how cold it wished to make him.

There was no harm in accepting the warmth–he would and had done the same for others may times before. He sincerely doubted the warden had any ulterior motives to asking him to sit closer, she hardly seemed the sort.

Tugging the blanket closer around himself to avoid flashing her, he got up to sit between her legs, taking care to make sure he sat on the blanket as to not rest his bare bottom on the snow. It wasn’t much warmer, the blanket was still dampened but…stubborn reason insisted sitting on wet fabric was better than sitting on wet ground.

She was a lot warmer than he’d anticipated–surprisingly so and he jumped a little as if he’d come too close to a flame.

“You…suspiciously toasty for someone who has been sat out here for so long.” He commented.

Elissa made a thoughtful sound and just shrugged her shoulders. She hadn’t felt warmer than usual, and the fire was, by safety’s sake, on the smaller side. Perhaps the slight young man was just that chilled. The thought made her brows pinch and the corners of her mouth tighten briefly.

“Warden bodies run hotter than others. It’s one of those little things that change after Joining that don’t often make it into the historical accounts,” she said with a tired smile in her voice, crossing her hands across his front, pulling Pelle a little closer, to rub them up and down the sides of his arms.

“Now,” she began with a softer quiet, after being satisfied that efforts to chase the chill away from him were working. Craning her neck to the side, she did her best to catch a look at the profile of his face - eyes gentle and searching.

“What is it that plagues your dreams tonight?”

[ohnotoomanyfandoms]

Okay but Jace was shown casually homophobic – sorry but there is no way around saying it – on quite a few occasions (like his attempt to out Alec or making objectifying jokes about sapphics, for starters). So, I headcanon he unconsciously learnt it from Robert who became a father figure to him. I was reading The Land I Lost when I realized what Robert’s brand of homophobia reminds me of. Admittedly, Jace was homophobic to a much lesser extent and his development in this particular aspect

You make a very nice point, but before I delve deep into this analysis, I want to say that Jace is in no way intentionally or overtly homophobic: he doesn’t discriminate or hate, he simply makes comments or jokes that in today’s world, with our savvy sensibility of what is and isn’t okay, we perceive as non politically correct. 

(On this note, I will also add that many of these scenes were set and written many years ago, when saying certain things was completely normalized and no one would bat an eye. Jace certainly couldn’t have known better.)

That’s light-years away from being an actual homophobe, and it’s important to stress, because otherwise people start throwing accusations around with a lightness that’s scary.

But yes, absolutely, even as an ally to the LGBTQIA+ community, Jace (who would probably die for Alec’s right to marry Magnus and adopt kids) often doesn’t pay much attention to what he says. I really like how you brought up Robert Lightwood and the fact that he might have passed negative feelings on to Jace. 

I do believe Robert suffered from a severe case of internalized homophobia, which made everything a million times worse for him. He actively rejected his parabatai after Michael came out to him and they grew apart. He refused to acknowledge his son’s relationship, going so far as moving out from their home (yes, he was also fighting with Maryse and running for the Inquisitor position, but I believe Alec’s coming out played a part). Robert passing homophobic ideals on to his children would also explain how it took Alec so long to accept himself.

Thankfully, Robert’s ideals didn’t really stick. One generation later, Jace, perhaps a son of his more modern time, has absolutely no problem with his parabatai being gay, even knowing perfectly well that Alec fancied himself in love with Jace. Jace goes so far as asking Alec to kiss him in City of Glass. Jace might play “no homo” with Simon, but never with Alec or Magnus, never where it actually mattered.

To broaden the picture a bit, it’s worth mentioning that Jace - just like Robert himself - hails from a culture of embedded toxic masculinity that rejects diversity and everything they consider “weak”; we also know that Shadowhunters were going extinct without the Mortal Cup, and therefore being in a same-sex relationship and not producing more Shadowhunters was frowned upon and considered a selfish act. 

Robert and Jace haven’t had anyone teach them about equality from a young age, but at least they both grew out of their ways. Jace supports anyone and everyone who deserves it, and Robert learned to accept Alec in the end. He became proud of his son, not only for his deeds in battle, but also for how open and true to himself he grew to be. We know that before his death, Robert doted on little Max and Magnus. 

In the end, love trumped hate and prejudice.

[therealdragonnerdagain]

I found myself scrolling through the #Bioware hashtag this evening for some unholy reason (after avoiding it for years like the plague), and honestly . . . there are more people in that tag whining about the fandom than actual fans do anything wrong.

So people complain about Bioware and their video games? So fucking what?

Spoiler Alert: nerds complain about video games.

It's our favorite pastime.

After coming to tumblr almost three years ago and seeing just how shitty and toxic the fandom was, I learned it was pretty easy to avoid that shit once you got the lay of the land (i.e. which crappy blogs to avoid). Your tumblr experience depends mostly on who you follow.

And if you can't handle shitty messages in anon, just do what I did and turn them off. It's just too bad you can't turn off tumblr's stupid private chat feature, because I get way too many people being rude to me there. To the point that I just don't read messages anymore.

But yeah. People are allowed to have negative opinions about the shit you love. Welcome to life.

Also, it's not the elves that Bioware hates. It the indigenous people they represent.

Dragon Age does nothing but demonize and crap on the Dalish. Over and over. Because they think indigenous people in real life are scum.

Maybe you're too young to understand that. Maybe you just don't have a real grasp on racism. But for everyone who's seen this shit before, we can recognize it.

Believe me, I didn't believe it either until I really started paying attention to how the Dalish are depicted in each game. Inquisition brings that underlining theme of Manifest Destiny to the forefront, but it's a racist theme that was always there.

The hatred was more subtle in Origins yet became shitfuck obvious in Inquisition. So it makes me very tired every time someone makes a post going on about how much Bioware must "love" the elves just because they've made their lore the main focus.

You understand it's possible to fetish a people's culture and want it for yourself even while hating the people who belong to it, right?

Hence the way only white humans in Dragon Age (the Avvar) are allowed to be tribal, worship spirits, practice magic, and at the same time are depicted as nuanced people, while the elves are almost exclusively depicted as cruel savages, snobs, blood mages, demon worshipers, and have been so stripped of all humanity by the last game that it's impossible to sympathize with them any longer.

The elves are depicted as inferior fuckups and humans are always presented as better. Morrigan is "better" than Merrill with eluvians, Morrigan knows more about the Dalish than an actual Dalish Inquisitor, Mythal would rather entrust her spirit to a human, the Dalish in The Masked Empire are too stupid to unlock the eluvian (to let Solas out) and yet, Briala the City Elf and Michel the Human can open it just like that, because humans and elves who have assimilated into human culture are superior to those dumb pagans!!!

The elven Grey Warden Iselya made the griffons go extinct. But her brother ended the Blight, so I guess even an elf can't fuck up simply DYING.

Elves are always dying in droves because they are presented as irrational and stupid by throwing themselves against the player for seemingly no reason, all so that white people -- sorry, I mean the player -- can absolve themselves of any wrongdoing when they commit genocide OVER and OVER in each game.

The elves asked for it! Why can’t they just surrender!

Slaughtering entire groups of indigenous people and then going, "Well, it was irrational of them to fight me. Why be angry that I invaded their land, raped their wives, outlawed their religion, and stole their children!" is the entire essence of Manifest Destiny.

Manifest Destiny: indigenous people are violent, irrational, inferior, can't achieve a damn thing without fucking up, and thus must be put out of their misery. Manifest Destiny. It's the belief that indigenous people are inferior and that killing them is so sad and beautiful because it's "for their own good."

Dragon Age is FULL of poems that romanticize the deaths of elves (mainly the original Dalish) who refused to surrender to human invasion and were "regretfully" slain by humans who begged them to stop fighting.

Yeah. The Dalish should have just surrendered. They should have just not been so proud! Why not just give in and become wage slaves in alienages who aren't allowed to worship their own gods? Their gods are demons anyway!!!

Solas, an elven god, is the embodiment of indigenous foolishness and pride. Because naturally, the elves were foolish for not simply submitting to human rule! Solas, a god, is so inferior that he can't even open his own fucking foci and needs the originally-human-Inquisitor to do it for him.

Only humans can do anything right in Dragon Age.

The Inquisitor was originally going to be a HUMAN who wielded the anchor better than Solas. The only reason they added races in at the last minute? A bunch of fans said they would not buy Inquisition if they were forced to play human -- AGAIN.

So while Bioware has an obvious fetish for indigenous culture, they could give less than a shit about indigenous people, and are perfectly willing to strip them of all humanity game after game, to the point that even ex-Dalish elves (Sera (arguably), Minaeve, and Dalish of the Chargers) hate and despise the Dalish as well.

We are not meant to sympathize with the elves. They are supposed to be buffoonish "inferiors" whose foolishness destroyed themselves and the old world -- true to Manifest Destiny and delusions of white superiority.

Canadians are super racist against their indigenous people, and this translated into Dragon Age. Unfortunately.

It took me a long time to make sense of this, as I didn't know much about First Nations people or Canadians (we didn’t really study them much in my anthropology classes). But now, after doing some reading, it all makes perfect sense.

Canadians only value First Nations people who have assimilated into white culture, thus the city elves in Dragon Age are treated ten times better by the narrative than the Dalish. Thus, we have Varric in Trespasser giving Clan Lavellan the opportunity to forget their own shitty pagan culture and assimilate into human culture. This is seen as a good thing that "helps" the Dalish: erasing their culture like it's inferior and being human is preferable.

So yeah, Patrick Weekes. Your wife being First Nations doesn't make you any less racist for everything that was done and said about indigenous elves in Inquisition by your hand.

And of course, David Gaider is racist too: he created the original lore that made the Dalish out to be inferior in the first place.

But silly me. Bioware "loves" the elves so much. That's why their culture is center focus, to the point of being handwaved as inferior demon worship.

[pellelavellan]

@quiisquiliae from x

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow right back at the boy. He wouldn't consider himself the expert on criminal judgement but he had a few under his belt now. He'd seen a few different types of people while bound in chains: the fearful, the remorseful, the grand standish. None of them however had looked him in the face and described their prisons as a vacation.

He didn't know what to say at first. He'd seen the prisons. They were cold, unwelcoming, a bit terrifying when you considered the massive cliff they stood upon. It wasn't a place he'd ever be happy to spend a single night in, though he'd never spent a night in a cell....ever. He didn't want to presume this boy had but the way he was listing off the benefits of being a prisoner to the Inquisition one had to wonder.

There were eyes all around the room watching him take in the prisoner sitting in front of him, waiting for him to have something to say to squash the boy's sense of humor but...he wasn't sure he could.

He was young, possibly even younger than Pelle. Human....maybe? Despite the tattoos on his face he was quite boyish. Messy brown hair feathered about his head in no particular fashion, and his clothes did not indicate he was of any importance to their enemy. He could have been mistaken for a beggar honestly, if not for the leathers.

Pelle couldn't tell if his nonchalance about the possibility of death was because he could not fathom the idea of dying at his age or if he was so relaxed because he wanted to be here. The latter sounded a bit mad to consider. He had to assume that his attitude had little to do with his own appearance. He appeared to be smirking before he was knelt down in front of him, so it was unlikely that his inability to be serious stemmed from anything to do with him.

If he were the stone cold leader most people associated with Inquisitors or war generals he might promise the boy that he would make sure his cell was far less comfortable upon returning him to it. He wasn't. He was curious.

"Why are you here?" he asked. "I'm either to believe you think this is a game or you believe that whatever I might do to you is a joke compared to what your allies would do if you turned up empty handed." something about that last statement was in all fairness true. Pelle didn't really believe in killing people, didn't really feel it was within his right to go deciding who did and did not deserve life. He did believe in people paying for the crimes they committed, though he would reserve that judgement for the people harmed--or ask that they repay their debts in an honorable fashion.

That probably was much kinder than whatever most people believed to be the correct course of action when dealing with criminals.

He would let the boy explain himself of course, but he had more questions. "You killed people. You do understand that yes? People's lives aren't funny. Who are you exactly? Tell me your name."

[pellelavellan]

Winter Palace - closed rp w/ quiisquilae

@quiisquiliae

Mythal's blessed tits! Orlesians, despite how conniving and terrifying they were, they were also....so fucking boring. Pelle had never spent any good or serious amount of time thinking about what a bunch of wealthy assholes talked about all day and yet--he was still pretty disappointed. He'd had conversations with nugs more interesting than the nonsense he'd overheard while trying to listen for anything of actual value.

He knew the reason they were there was important, but there wasn't anywhere else he wouldn't rather be than here at this masquerade. It'd been a shit show since he stepped through the gate. He hadn't even three steps into the courtyard before people started gossiping amongst themselves--with a tacky lack of subtlety at that. 'An elf savage,' someone had proclaimed almost immediately, and the amount of times he'd been so endearingly called a 'rabbit' had not gone unnoticed.

But--he'd had enough wine to ignore his discomfort standing in what felt like a den of wolves, and he would thank a typically unfortunate habit for survival to stride quietly amongst humans because it meant it was easier for him to go unnoticed standing in on conversations. He wasn't drunk, but about as relaxed as one could be socializing and eavesdropping on people who hated you.

When he found Talon, whom he was sure was just as pissed off to be here as he was, he'd finally managed to fake smile and flatter his way out of one of the dullest conversations he'd ever had in his entire life.

"Ugh, I'm going to need more wine if I'm going to have to carry on like that for the rest of the night," was as all he had to say about that. He didn't know Talon very well, he was a pretty fresh recruit.

Though green as he was Pelle had thought it would be properly stupid not to bring a trained assassin to an alleged planned assassination. This was his profession after all, he might notice things that he or the rest of his companions might not.

"I hope you're having better luck than me," he commented, making a small attempt to recover some modem of professionalism after his griping. It wasn't that he'd heard nothing interesting, but it hadn't come without sifting through a lot useless chatter.

[pellelavellan]

@quiisquiliae from x

Talon had good aim, he'd give him that. But the dummy hardly deserved all his aggression. Then again, they didn't deserve Cassandra's either but she much like Talon probably saw it more fit to carve up an inanimate object than a real person. Unlike Cassandra though, Talon's aggression seemed less methodical and more restless--frustrated. It reminded him of someone else he used to know. Red haired, seemingly impenetrable, a bit of a show off and an ass, and yet always so good to him.

For Mallas, it was the trees who took the brunt of his arrows and his unspoken fury towards his father. He wondered who it was for Talon that the poor dummy embodied. He doubted he would tell him.

He approached the dummy, giving it an apologetic pat on it's straw filled head and began pulling the knives from it's chest one by one. "I'm not confident I can send you off with the troops just yet," he confessed. He didn't return the knives, not directly. There was a target board behind the young man, and so he tossed the first one past Talon and into the board with impeccable aim. He might not have been any good with a sword or a bow, but knives? Knives were much easier to handle.

"You've probably noticed that not everyone is all that thrilled with my decision to release you. I might not think you're all that bad, but I'm not everyone." he said, another knife zipping past the young man into the target.

"I could maybe let you work with the Chargers," he thought aloud. "They're all misfits in their own way. I think skinner might like you. Plus, Iron Bull's not too judgemental about people's pasts."

it was a viable idea worth taking up with Bull. He was almost certain the Chargers wouuldn't be so discontent with him if he asked them to bring Talon along on a job. Some of the troops, former templars and rebel mages still bickered with each other. He wasn't really trying to push the man on them so he could be treated like the youngest sibling your mother forced you to take along with your friends.

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

[pellelavellan]

❝   careful, you might offend the chantry.   ❞ (probably said with a smidge of sarcasm lmao)

Pelle grinned, taking note of the levity in the woman's voice. "I'm afraid it's too late for that, I think my very existence offends them at this rate."

To be fair the feeling went both ways. He would say he might just barely dislike them more, but hate is a powerful drug and it appeared to be very popular amongst the Chantry and nobility in Orlais.

"What's that old saying?If you're to piss off someone who can't be pleased you might as well give em a good reason."

[pellelavellan]

"There's no such thing as a saint without a past." - from Finn!

@quiisquiliae

Truthfully, he was kind of fascinated? Excited maybe? To meet the Hero of Fereldan. He didn't have to tell Finn that was something of a celebrity even if a reluctant one, he was probably well aware. Pelle might have grown up in the Free Marches, but it would've been impossible to not have heard of him. His reputation preceded him, even more so now that the young elf was not with his clan.

"Is that a testament to yourself or--?" the Inquisitor asked. "Because I thought assuming most Chantry sisters and brothers had one--a pretty ugly one." he wouldn't elaborate on that. The Warden was an elf himself, a city elf even, he probably had more experience with the Chantry than Pelle did having gone most of his life without ever speaking to anyone from the Chantry. He wished he could have gone for longer to be completely transparent.

[pellelavellan]

i don't know what i'm doing.

PROMPTS FOR THINGS DONE WHILE DANCING

@wolf-at-worlds-end

"Don't worry, I don't either." Pelle admitted.

Suppose that was exactly why they were practicing wasn't it? Humans had so many rules for their gatherings and their dancing, it was impressive that they all managed to remember them all. Pelle couldn't imagine being raised up in a world that judged you for the way you stood, sat, ate, breathed even. It sounded exhausting.

"A pity I'm not allowed to dance the way I want," he commented. "Balls. would be a lot more fun if they were as lively as a Dalish bonfire."

There was something a bit comical about the young elf taking the role as the leader in their mock dance. The idea that he would guide Ras' movements, or even catch him potentially was ridiculous to even consider. His confidence in his ability to dip the much larger man was...not high.

"If a lady asks you to dance what will you do?" he asked.

[pellelavellan]

"I'm very fond of walking."

(She has an intense fear of riding horses.)

The Inquisitor watched her stubbornly strolling alongside him from up on his hart with an amused smile sneaking up on his face. He'd slowed down for her and still her legs much shorter than his mount struggled to keep up with him. Her long strode steps reminded him much of another woman he used to know. Stubborn to a fault, but she would never admit that her antics were just as exhausting for her as they were for him to watch.

"I'm sure you are," he mused, shaking his head. "As am I, though I'm certain your legs would thank you if you would give them a break. We do have quite a ways to go."

Had Elissa really wandered Fereldan on foot during the fifth blight? It was a commendable feat if it were true, but the young Keeper hardly believed such a thing were possible. Surely someone must have taught her to ride, whether it be her family or the Wardens. He wished he felt bad imagining she may have had a bad experience with one of the creatures and that had deterred her from climbing atop another, but he'd seen the origins to such stories many times before and they were never without some humour.

"The offer still stands to climb up behind me," he repeated for what must have been the tenth time by now. "I assure you harts are very gentle creatures, there are few creatures you would be less in danger riding."

[pellelavellan]

❝ I heard you the first time. ❞

"And yet you do not listen!" Pelle snapped, turning around and slamming fists against Solas' desk. He stared his hahren down with eyes like fire, assessing him for something, any sign of remorse. There was nothing. If Solas had spent his time away reflecting on his feelings and actions Pelle could not sense it--and he sensed many things. His attitude was colder than the icy hues in his eyes. He was not sorry, and he was not interested in being so.

"You killed them Solas, they are dead." he repeated. "You have made it clear you have no compunction for taking life. That does not mean you will hear no criticism from me. No one has the right to decide who deserves and who deserves death. We are imperfect creatures, driven by passion not reason. The power to do something does not give you the fucking right! Anyone who thinks they do lacks humility and ought to be humbled before the gods."

Teeth bared in his fit, he watched Solas intently. He was waiting, no--daring him to answer him.

[pellelavellan]

❝ You must not tell me about things. What is done is done. What is past is past. ❞

"Am I to never look behind me?" It was not a question so much as it were a statement spoken unto the still quiet of the night.

In their own way her words were wise. What had reminiscence ever brought anyone but pain and longing? Memories of a younger...stupider..happier you, untouched by strife and conflict, unknowing to the aching hollow that would become you in naught but a short few years. You would never know when the last time you felt the ignorant bliss of childhood was, but once it had passed you would spend the rest of your life searching...yearning to feel that light in your spirit again. But it was gone, snuffed out like candlelight. You were dead--long dead in fact, remains of a child sprouting from the ground like twisted weeds. People did not grow old--they decayed.

"Is it not wise to look to the past and learn from it?" he inquired. "Or have we simply termed things done in fear as learning?"