#skyheld / ameridan

[vicit-vim-virtus]

[ 10 ] the crumbling remains of a burnt-out homestead ameridan @ luran

The pungent smell of smouldering wood still permeated the air. The ground, once lush and fertile, no doubt, now lay scorched and desolate, and the abode, the homestead itself, had been diminished to a mound of rubble. Not a soul was about to salvage whatever could be salvaged after the devastation that had struck this farm; the crops, rations, personal belongings, livestock had all gone up in flames. It was debatable whether anything or anyone had survived this inferno, this accident... attack...

Vigilantly, Luran crossed the decimated property and kicked up ashes and soot; the remnants of the farm whirled up, gyrated in the gentle breeze for several heartbeats before settling back down on the charred ground. Even though the incinerated homestead looked abandoned, he preferred not to take any chances; his right hand lightly enveloped the hilt of his sheathed dagger and the magic under his skin hummed resolutely in response to his heightened sense of alertness.

Perhaps he was simply a trifle paranoid, or perhaps his instincts had discerned something he, himself, hadn’t been able to decipher yet. Either way, he would rather have the high ground and be one step ahead of his adversaries than getting the short end of the stick and suffer. He proceeded with caution and examined his surroundings; he wasn’t an expert with regards to determining whether a struggle had occurred or not, and yet, a still voice in the back of his mind informed him that something was amiss — these were peculiar circumstances. Devastation of this magnitude couldn’t have been caused by a mediocre family of farmers...

By the time he reached the other side of the farm, he was no longer alone; the stranger he’d happened upon mere minutes ago, seemed to have completed his search for survivors already. Luran quietly reconvened with the other elf; they had both, independently, stumbled across the burnt-out homestead and split-up to investigate.

‘There’s nothing but ash and debris where I trod — I didn’t find anyone, nor did I detect any signs that might indicate a tussle between two opposing parties,’ Luran reported serenely. ‘How about you? Did you find anything out of the ordinary?’

[recitedemise]

[ first hug ] sender pulls receiver into their first hug /ameridan gives the best hugs

PROMPTS FOR TOUCH-STARVED MUSES: still accepting.

There are things Gale appreciates. For starters, there is the motion of the stars with the whirling of the planets and the winking, silver twinkles of their distant, little moons. He adores gawking at it all, there upon his settee before a crackling fire. Yet, even more than starlight and perhaps, he wagers, even more than spells, he'd most covet the coming of the easiest affections...small ones, humble, and all too warm.

In truth, though he'd offer them eagerly, all too seldomly, he finds, is he given in turn. He's not a great wealth of confidantes and is remarkably bereft of genuine friends. That said, he's a heart like the cosmos, something mighty, tremendous, and vast in its depth. It would color all his motions, rendering his regard all too plain, and bursting as he is with all that...fondness, a simple hug, a meager touch, is all it takes. Ah. This man would smell of moss and long indulgent soaks in the twilit dark. Gale holds to his body, pleasantly stunned to be swept in those arms, but he's a man of great wizardry great spellcraft, isn't he? He smiles. Oh, yes. This, he hazards, may have bested the Weave.

"I would ask for a moment more," Gale sighs, body warm, warm, warm as he reels him in, "but I worry should I start, there would be no force either arcane or natural that would hold me back." Oh, wizard. Head resting on their shoulder, how they'd fold up together is wonderfully sweet. "Besides, there's no need for this just yet. I'm still here." For a time, at any rate. He thinks of his fate and his goddess' missive... "And I shall be for as long you require me.

[ferinehuntress]

◈　 ⇢  @skyheld　 ⋯　 Random Starter ♡ 　 ⸻　Ameridan learns more about the daughter of moonlight.

Black bags lingered heavily under Isobel’s eyes as she leaned herself up against the wall and slowly slide down to the floor. The strain of fatigue was visible in her silver-green eyes, revealing a loss of luster. And yet, she continued, her power linked to the barrier. Each day, she pulled that power and embraced it. As the barrier restrained the shadow curse, Isobel could feel the internal fight of it within her. The shadows tried to swallow up the magic, and yet the power of the moon fought to drown out the darkness. Slowly, she leaned her head back against the wall as she faded into her thoughts.

Every day here left her weary and worried. Already, one of their own had turned against them and Isobel couldn't believe how close she was to be taken back to her father. No, she wouldn't call him that. His name was Ketheric, no longer her father. Her father was kind and just, he took the protection of Reithwin personal. This tyrant was not her father. And yet he tried to dig his claws into her, dragging her back to a place she did not want to be. She had lost her lover, her soul burned from feeling as if the other half was missing. She reached over, pulling off her gloves and letting them drop to the ground. “What happened to me?” she questioned a little, staring at her black cursed hands flexing her palms and staring at the darkness that engulfed them. Was this her father’s fault or something else entirely?

The woman she saw in the mirror wasn’t who she used to be. Her raven black hair was now silver, her green eyes now a silver-green. Pale flesh lost its olive tone and now was more ivory. Still licked with warmth, but the undertones had faded. She slowly lifted her hands up to brush through her hair and sobbed quietly, before she jerked at feeling a presence. The wolf it reminded her of Aylin as her hand pressed up against her lips before reaching out to scratch his head. “I’m tired,” she whispered, and then leaned back and shook her head. “I don’t know what to do. How am I supposed to stop him and save everyone?” Her shoulders slouched with the weight upon them. “If only Aylin were here, she would know how to talk with you. I bet you would have loved her.” Just saying her name ripped her heart in two when Dread shifted and suddenly left the room.

Left alone again, Isobel slowly pushed herself up as she buckled over and started coughing. Something was wrong inside of her, she could feel it. A sickness or darkness, she didn’t know what; but she still didn’t feel right. She pressed her hand up against the wall as the attack subsided and she could lean back up and take a breath. She tugged off her armor and cloak, left in a simple tank top and some gray pants. Her body lead over to the fire as she dropped into her chair, trying to warm herself up. The cold of her body didn’t make the shiver, but she still didn’t like the feeling of it creeping over her hand.

It was when the person walked through the door that Isobel nearly jumped out of her skin. She grabbed a pair of gloves, hastily struggling to place them on her hands to hide the black tendrils that spread over her forearms and the black that engulfed her hands. “Ameridan,” Isobel quickly spoke up, recovering from any internal turmoil, and pushed back her rocking chair. “I was not expecting to see you back. Are you and your crew well? Do you need something?” She asked, as she lifted her hand, sensing the selunite magic still blessed him. “Oh good, the blessing is still strong. What can I help with?”

[championsofthegate]

@skyheld asked: let's get you up on your feet. /ameridan to gale

One day, Gale was going to stop getting knocked out by whatever they happened to be fighting. Today was not that day, however.

He let out a small groan, blinking up at Ameridan. How had he... ah, redcap, right. Gale pushed himself into a sitting position, taking stock of his injuries.

"Nasty creatures, recaps," he murmured to know one in particular, before focusing on Ameridan again. "Is everyone else alright?"

[intothewildsea]

@skyheld gets a starter for ameridan.

Niamh had been asked to check on a new arrival, someone who was apparently very important. The Inquisitor was worried that he was exhausted after his trip to Skyhold and asked if Niamh could spare some time to make sure he had everything he needed. Niamh reassured them that she'd make sure he was all right. She didn't mind.

She gathered up a few things to take to him: a cup of tea, some various medicines, and one of the fruit pastries she'd baked earlier that day when taking a break from the infirmary.

It took her a bit to remember where the new arrival's room was, but when she finally found it, she shuffled the tray onto one hand and knocked on the door. She hoped that she didn't wake him up from a nap.

[tadbitfooled]

@skyheld sent: now that's something you don't see every day. /ameridan, to talilah! from PROMPTS FOR TALKING YOURSELF OUT OF SOMETHING

"Considering we were all kidnapped by mindflayers and have little buddies in our heads, at this point little is going to surprise me," Talilah remarked dryly. "Although, I may require a cleansing ritual to get that image out of my mind."

A bugbear and an ogress going at it. Yes, she had opened the door. Yes, it had been out of curiosity. And yes, she had made silly remarks to de-escalate the situation. And it had been quite amusing.

But also scarring at the same time.

"Maybe the next time I open the door, we'll find a whole pile of loot to help us with getting this Halsin back."

[womanlives]

✿ merrill + surra, ameridan + vivienne, gatt + wyll

✿ for 2 headcanons ; @skyheld

SURRA & MERRILL.

Surra adopts Merrill straight-up, your classic ‘extrovert finding their introvert’ energy. She has five beasts that roll with her on the reg — eagle, mountain lion, wolf, horse, bear. Aatu, the wolf, takes to Merrill the best. He’s biiiiig puppy energy, and he joined Surra’s squad after being ousted from Merrill’s pack. Hence the connection. He likes lounging in Merrill’s house when Surra’s lurking around the Alienage like an off-duty watchdog.

Merrill and Surra have the most interesting parallels about magical techniques and trainings — Merrill with her knowledge from the Dalish Keepers, Surra with her familiarity with the Avvar augurs. This often devolves into debates about blood magic, of which Surra has a deep-seated aversion. Despite the Avvars’ close relationship and open viewpoint of spirits, though, Surra actively advises Merrill against blood magic in any capacity. She offers her services in whatever capacity she can to keep Merrill from a path from which she believes there is no natural return. She stays by Merrill’s side after, but Aatu whimpers whenever blood is spilled for the sake of magic and magic alone.

VIVIENNE & AMERIDAN.

Oh the conversATIONSSSSSSSSSSSSSSuhhh these two would HAVEEEEEEEE. In the beginning, Vivienne attempts to pick apart and verify as much of Ameridan’s story as he’s willing to tell. Protective of the Inquisitor she knows and follows; protective of the cause itself. She busts out texts, histories, books, anything and everything — but if the conversations continue, there is less and less suspicion and interrogation, and more and more curiosity, and the rare shade of empathy. Vivienne respects Ameridan too much to ever stoop to pity. Eventually she offers to share her study and her resources with him if their relationship remains civil, and relates the rare personal account on present-day Orlais.

 In fights, Vivienne’s protective barriers always find and shelter Ameridan first. Always. Doesn’t matter their approval. Always.

WYLL & GATT.

After finding out about Gatt’s aversion to casual touch, Wyll acts as Gatt’s midfielder where he can. While he’s very careful not to speak over Gatt or for Gatt, he does try to intervene in situations where he believes Gatt may find himself uncomfortable: to either provide a buffer, or a means of escape. If there are ever situations where Gatt feels self-conscious of this, Wyll attempts to alleviate with jokes and offers to teach him Armor of Agathys, so the unsuspecting will be met with an explosion of cold upon touch.

Wyll tried to spar with Gatt (sans magic) once. Once. Got his ass whooped so hard that he’ll carry this humility for years. Now he occasionally acts as the (sheepish) referee between Gatt and Karlach at an appropriately safe distance.

[mercysought]

really, what good would it do? have you not seen enough bodies in your time? maybe it helps other people, but it's just one more face to haunt your dreams. /for the priestess. ameridan is trying so hard

what moves the dead // accepting // @skyheld

   “Good?"

She felt something within her slip, and crack as she turned to the elven Inquisitor. She felt her scars pulse, her blood grow warm, threatening to reach a boiling point in a few seconds. She had tolerated his seemingly misplaced love and affection for the shem'len. Many of the Children could not - would not -separate themselves from their - for the good and the bad that did them. In the back of her mind, she felt the same beast of old rear up, its claws reaching for the same drums of war that they had been softly beating ever since she had last awoken.

Her throat pressed against the thin skin around her neck, hidden behind the golden band that she had taken to wearing. This noose that she had been cursed. She felt the skin that had cursed herself with wearing, this priestess skin, threatening to come and tear through her frame, revealing her very being beneath "Inquisitor, the time for 'what good would it do' is long gone."

It had been gone since they had attacked her home, since they had taken her brother and sister, since the traitor had locked in the only sources of protection of the People and left them all to die or worse - become enslaved to the scrambling ants that had poured out of today's Tevinter. What good would it do? It would give her immense pleasure to see it all burn to the ground.

Were she capable, she would tear each of the bones that built that accursed city. She would impress on them the same pain that they had done to her. Good? Nothing good could ever come out of this. And that was fine.

   “I am haunted by the faces of those I failed to protect, no one else's. They do not even remember who they killed, what they destroyed." what they took from me, from this world.

Looking into his eyes, she understands that he doesn't understand. He could never understand. He was not of the People, and while there was pain in his veins it was not the same pain as hers. His was the pain of the children, one of the many rivers - hers was the mountain spring. How could she not be enraged? Enraged at the shem'len, enraged for herself and for him? How could she not feel herself burn up when she saw him defending them? After everything?

It seemed that any and all memories she held were bound to the same fate as all: the great depths of forgetfulness and nothing else. She and all the Children were doomed to lose more, only more. She felt her lip quiver. Every time she spoke she felt more and more that her cause was a lost one and yet she knew not how to do anything else.

To carry this tragedy within her throat: she couldn't speak in any other tongue.

   “Forgive me" for I do not require it from you; the words hem themselves between the empty spaces that contained her voice and the inhaling of air "if my compassion cannot be extended to the blood of those who destroyed all that I've cherished."

Her back straightens and all she wants to do is weep. But she has no more tears to cry. In her body, there is only blood that can be spilt; ancient blood pumped by a tired heart that beats along a single track. Looking down at the letter that she had been reading, she sees the cracks along the paper and so she loosens her grip, grimacing without looking at the other.

   “You are dismissed."

[fatesown]

SEVEN  DEADLY  SINS.  -   bold what applies, italicize what  sometimes applies, strike through  for never applies.

LUST.      desire  for  connection.  pursuit  of  pleasure.  emotional  intelligence.  obsessive.  lovesick.  one-night  stands.  seductive  encounter.  flirtatious  conversation.  erotic  party.  seductive  attire.  revealing  clothing.  passionate  gaze.  provocative  makeup.  sensual  expressions.  suggestive  gestures.  flirtatious  smiles.  lingerie.  love  letters.  perfumes.  provocative  behaviour.  love  poems.  erotic  art.

GLUTTONY. indulgence  in  experiences.  savouring  moments.  hospitality.  generosity.  hedonism.  culinary  expertise.  wine-tasting.  excessive  snacking.  overloaded  plates.  excessive  portions.  bloated  stomachs.  messy  eating.  greasy  fingers.  full  tables.  indulgent  spreads.  overflowing  cups.  satisfied  expressions.  wine  bottles.  just  can't  get  enough.  fast  food  wrappers.

ENVY.      motivation.  competitive  spirit.  strategic  planning.  observational  skills.  bitter  rivalry.  contest. envious  gossip.  resentment-filled  argument.  social  media  jealousy.  furrowed  brows.  clenched  jaws.  side-eye  looks.  pursed  lips.  tense  posture.  whispering  behind  backs.  crossed  arms.  gossip  magazines.  keeping  up  with  the  joneses.  the  grass  is  always  greener.  feeling  inadequate.

GREED.      resourcefulness. entrepreneurial  spirit. negotiation.  materialistic.  aggressive  investment.  lavish  spending  spree.  resource-hoarding.  get-rich-quick  schemes.  auction-bidding  war.  property  acquisition. piles  of  money.  overflowing  wallets.  luxury  items.  locked  safes.  penny-pinching.  rare  collectibles.  selfishness.  unwillingness  to  share.

SLOTH.      calmness.  stress  management.  nonchalance.  relaxation  techniques.  lethargic.  apathetic.  inactive.  lazy  weekend.  binge-watching  marathon.  neglected  chores.  skipped  workout.  long  nap.  lounging  on  the  couch.  missed  deadlines.  unkempt  appearance.  messy  hair.  pajamas.  blankets.  slippers.  procrastination  station.  self-care  routines.

PRIDE.      confidence.  self-assurance.  self-respect.  dignity.  public  speaking. self-promotion.  arrogant.  conceited.  egotistical.  self-important.  vain.  boastful  speech.  puffed  chest.  raised  chin.  smug  smiles.  spotlight.  tooting  your  own  horn.  showing  off.  refusing  to  admit  mistakes.  feeling  entitled.  personal  branding.  leadership  development.

WRATH.      assertiveness.  decisiveness.  strength.  intensity.  boundary  setting.  courage.  indignant.  heated  arguments.  road  rage  incident.  physical  altercation.  angry  outburst.  clenched  fists.  glaring  eyes.  tense  muscles.  raised  voices.  reddened  faces.  aggressive  gestures.  stormy  demeanour.  intense  frowns.  destructive  actions.  broken  objects.  punching  bag.  out  for  blood.  fists.  simmering  anger.

tagged by @heirbane / tagging @morisenatha ; @nightsbloom (for aylin and shadowheart, or for melinoë) ; @soulcluster (for magus) ; @skyheld (for ameridan)

[oathwilled]

❝ Someday I’ll visit a place with no ancient evils, horrors, devouring plagues, or insanity. Maybe a beach. ❞/from ameridan @skyheld / dragon age 2

“ Wouldn’t it be nice, ” drawls he, humored in a weary and old way — the voice of someone who hasn’t had a lot of downtime in recent years. “ Can’t say I can make much advice. Most places I been in the last few decades have some kind o’ horror or another. ”

And: he sighs. “ This point, I’d take a place over some little evil. Maybe just a ghost ‘r two. A skeleton or three. Somethin’ not world-endin’. ”

[skyheld]

— how to they bear it? — as best they can.

skyheld. independent, selective multimuse for dragon age & bg3. lovingly tended by ciri (she/her, 30). established in the olden days & revamped may 2024, under reconstruction now and probably forever.

muses.

ameridan | a minor canon character from Dragon Age: Inquisition, the Jaws of Hakkon DLC | non-binary, using gender-neutral terms but he/him pronouns | TW: animal death present in backstory | DRAGON AGE VERSE | BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAV/COMPANION VERSE | ALT. BALDUR'S GATE 3 VERSE (wip)

gatt | a minor canon character from Dragon Age: Inquisition | cis male, he/him pronouns | TW: slavery, indoctrination into a cult, ptsd. sexual assault present backstory | DA VERSE | INQUISITOR VERSE | BALDUR’S GATE 3 NON-TADPOLE COMPANION VERSE

lethe | a tadpoled companion oc from Baldur's Gate 3 | cis female, she/her pronous | TW: parental abuse | BALDUR'S GATE 3 VERSE

merrill | a canon character from Dragon Age: Origins and II | cis female, she/her pronouns | TW: blood magic | DRAGON AGE VERSE | BALDUR’S GATE 3 VERSE.

shianni | a minor canon character from Dragon Age: Origins | cis female, she/her pronouns | TW: slavery and (fantasy)racial oppression. Shianni is a rape survivor, which is mentioned/alluded to in her biography | DRAGON AGE VERSE

guidelines.

1. SELECTIVITY. I’m mutuals only and somewhat selective, meaning if I follow/follow back, I’m interested in writing with you. I will try to reach out to you with memes or by liking interaction calls and I highly encourage you to do the same! Sometimes it may take a while because I’m not seeing a meme that fits or I’m not on the dash when you post (hello GMT+1), but that never means I’m not interested. I am here to write. OOC communication will probably make me a lot more excited for our threads, even if its just a small comment in the tags. discord is available to mutuals on request.

2. MEMES. If in doubt, send the meme! I may not respond to all of them and never expect you to do so either. I might send several to give you options, feel free to delete any that don’t inspire you. Turning a meme into a thread is highly encouraged if you feel inspired to, and I usually try to write them with an opening for continuation. Please try to send me something if you reblog a meme, or reblog from the source.

3. PLOTTING. I might lean slightly towards plotted thread and/or plotted relationships, just because I find they last longer. Again though, memes can be a starting point and ice breaker.

4. STARTER CALLS. I will probably not post completely open starter calls very often because I find it very hard to write a starter with no direction. For specific verses it may happen, or I may reblog a list of starter prompts. When I do, it’s because I want more threads. If I’ve written several starters for you and you haven’t replied to any of them, I might approach you for plotting before I write you another. it’s totally fine to just tell me a particular starter isn’t working and we can figure out another, but I don’t like the feeling that I’m just writing them for no response, especially since they tend to take me a while to write.

5. SHIPPING. I love shipping and while it's not my main reason for writing, I'm always down for any sort of established relationships. If you feel like there’s chemistry there probably is, so don’t hesitate to say it!

6. TRIGGERS. This blog deals with some heavy themes. I do my best to tag them when explicit or prominent in my writing and always if graphic, but not always when mentioned in passing. tags are formatted as ___tw (heavily present) or ____cw (just mentioned). Do let me know if I didn’t tag something I should have.

7. TRIGGERS II. I won’t follow/will unfollow if you don’t tag:

nsfw / nsft / whatever tag you use as long as I can find it.

pregnancy and childbirth (I’m fine with mentions and can deal with it in backgrounds and such. Descriptions and imagery are worse.)

8. FORMATTING. please don’t use double small text or gif icons in threads with me as I find it hard to read! I default to small text but will use regular if you do, and I alternate between almost no other formatting and a little bit more ~fancy~. If anything makes it hard for you to read, let me know.

9. CALLOUTS. I understand that sometimes callouts are necessary to protect others, but won’t reblog if I can’t verify the truth of them (which means it probably won’t happen). Someone acting shitty doesn’t warrant a callout but simply a block; someone being genuinely manipulative might. If harms people, it isn’t ‘drama’. If I do ever post/reblog a callout it will be tagged as ‘callout cw’.

Thank you for reading!

[bearmuther]

sc. @skyheld​. 

“ameridan..”  bozhena taps him gently on the shoulder. “ameridan.”

out only a moment’s walk away from skyhold, there is a courtyard. most do not know of it. if they do, they dare not mention it. bozhena and ameridan are there, and neither mention it. it is nigh sundown, and they have not eaten. she has a bowl of stew in each hand. she sits close and friendly, with ease in the languid length of her posture.

she offers him a bowl. she looks at the courtyard, and figures it would likely be called a graveyard, if the dead were not too old to be marked still by headstones. there are stumps in the ground where the ruined hunks of rocks once sat. she wonders if he knows their names. she decides to mention it. “i haven’t seen you here before, my friend.” 

[apothecates]

@skyheld [ with ameridan ] liked for a starter !

𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄 was not fascinated by the idea of meeting someone sustained by magic would be a lie. While Adan himself was not some sort of magical expert, it didn’t mean that he could not have a vested interest in things relating to it. He was a mage - not a very good one - but a mage yet still. And in his interest, he found himself watching Ameridan whenever he entered a room, spoke, even ate. For all intents and purposes, he should be dead. Yet here he is.

Adan wondered if the magic might work in other ways as well.

That’s just necromancy, the small voice in the back of his mind (which, ironically, sounded like his sister) spoke to him, reminding him that the dream of her coming back was simply that - a dream. To distract himself, he finally worked up the courage to speak to Ameridan, clearing his throat as the elf wandered by and closing the book he had not been reading the moment Ameridan had entered the room, ❝ If you wouldn’t mind, Ser, I actually wanted to pick your brain about something, ❞ he says, trying to come up with something on the fly. 

A beat passes and Adan realizes Ameridan likely has no idea who he is, ❝ Ah, forgive me. Adan, head apothecary. ❞ He reaches out with his free hand, offering it in greeting.

[ferinehuntress]

◈　 ⇢  @skyheld　 ⋯　 An Extremely Self-Indulgent Meme ♡ 　 　 ⸻　 ❰❰ TACKLE ❱❱ sender hugs the receiver so hard they almost fall over / do fall over (reverse ameridan @ karlach)

Karlach took a breath, picking up the firewood for the campsite. The others needed fire to stay warm and while she didn't need it, she would always ensure the others were safely taken care of. A silver lining to being a commander of the army in the Hells; she learned plenty of survival skills to ensure the team would be well taken care of and safe. She wasn't the best cook, but she was good at plenty of other things. Still, she couldn't help but pause for a moment, glancing back at the camp where she spotted Shadowheart milling around her tent. Setting up the cloth, a little chair outside of the tent, preparing her mats. Something about the woman stirred within her chest, and she didn't believe she was as dark and evil as she tried to be. Shar was a cruel mistress, but Karlach didn't know how to show her that.

Thought of Shadowheart fluttered into her mind, as she briefly wondered what she might look like without clothing, and then Karlach's eyes widened. "Nope, Karlach, stop it!" She snapped at herself as she laughed. "Yes, she's gorgeous but come on, not yet! Do not think about those thoughts, nope nope nope. Okay, stick, tree,… OH!" Karlach twisted her head around, allowing herself to get distracted so her hypersexual fantasies didn't take over and include one gorgeous black beauty before her mind. She grabbed another stick as Scratch started to run around her legs. "Mistress, Mistress! Can I help?" The dog barked happily, wagging his tail and she grinned. "Of course you can buddy, whatever stick you find, bring it back here," Karlach said, as she placed down down onto a bundle of cloth.

With a happy bark, the dog bounced off, picking up sticks and dropping them onto the cloth. She brushed her hand up against her forehead, the leathery hide of her dragon scales brushing against her fist as she heard Ameridan.

It happened all too quickly. She saw Ameridan running toward her, half expecting trouble, and then he just flung himself into her arms and instinct took over to catch him. "Ame!" Karlach shouted, not processing the fact first, she hadn't even fixed her engine yet and two, he was hugging her. She had fallen backward, hitting the ground in the process as she sat on her behind and her tail didn't move. "What's wrong, what's---" After a few seconds she just froze and it rippled through her mind. Ameridan was hugging her.

He was… hugging. HER!

Karlach found shock in her system at first, holding him but her brain short-circuited in the process. However, she couldn't stop herself as her arms wrapped around him and pulled him in close, burying her face into his shoulder. Fucking hells! IT WAS A HUG! She clung to him, her claws gripping at his shirt, and just held him close for a moment, knowing she had to let go sooner or later. Better sooner, as after he left to go, Karlach just let out a laugh. "YOU HUGGED ME!!" In which her engine let out a roaring sound, and her hair, horns, and shoulder lit up on fire and Karlach let out a gasp. "FUCK!" Karlach shouted, scooting far away from the pile of wood and trying to douse out of her fire. So what did she do? She kicked her hooves underneath her lunging into the river, and plopped down on the banks of it. Her body fell backward and she just lay in the water, giggling in the process.

[ourdawncomes]

@skyheld​ asked: ✵ for Ameridan

Their first impression of your muse: “I read about Ameridan, long before I’d ever got to-- you know, meet him. Considering his place in Chantry history it was surprising there was so little. I mean, think of how much we know about Andraste. Humans don’t keep the Memories like dwarves, but when something’s important they usually write it somewhere. In hindsight, I see why that was.”

Current impression:  “He’s nothing like I expected. I’d figured him to be a man of faith, the rumours that he was shirking his duty never made sense, but...  I always expected the last Inquisitor to be someone who felt different. From me, that is. It seems to me we have more in common than we don’t.”

Are they attracted to your muse?:

Something they find frightening about your muse: “It’s not so much anything he’s done, but I can’t shake the fear they’ll do the same to me as they did to him. My family name’s already been stricken from one people’s history, after all.”

Something they find adorable about your muse:  “Uh, adorable? It’s sweet how he gets along with dogs, I guess.”

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  “He did the same for us. How could I do any different?”

Would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  “It’s tempting. The stories he must have... but I wouldn’t want to press him. I imagine it’s takes a toll, remembering what he does.”

One word my muse would use to describe yours:  “Hero.”

Would my muse slap yours if they could?: “Are you kidding me? He tried to take on a dragon by himself. I’m not starting that fight.”

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?: “He could probably use a hug, but I’m not sure he’d appreciate one from me.”

[winterfollows]

@skyheld | Ameridan

“ Yes. “   It must be evident in the way he keeps tugging at his sleeves,  the hem of his tunic,  as if his clothes are to blame for discomfort.   Well,  they are  —  even when tailored according to his preferences,  with more room to move and less to see  —  but they are not the only thing.   If they were,  he could manage.  

“ I can barely remember people’s countries,  let alone their names.   And the formalities?   Etiquette? “   It was not easier back then  —  at least,  not in the ciriane courts  —  but he’d had time to learn.   He sighs,  exasperated,  because he would not have to be nervous if people didn’t insist on such complicated customs.   “ If I only risked embarassing myself I would not care,  but the Inquisition needs me to be ready,  and I…  don’t feel ready. “

Even if Ameridan had not told him, he would have known. Slender fingers rearrange his friend’s collar yet again, smoothing down the finely-embroidered front of his tunic.

“You are not required to remember all of them. You may be surprised how few formalities they remember themselves.” Haleir offers a serene smile, though levity peeks through its edges, slips into his tone. He’d finished dressing himself some time earlier, draped in sheered layers of white and palest blue, and now took it upon himself to act as the former Inquisitor’s personal valet.

“The Inquisition would not have asked this of you if there were any other way. And besides, you will not be alone. They have seen fit to assign me to you, and as such we will be sharing our successes.”

One more cursory check and he steps back to survey his handiwork, satisfied. “There. As dashing as ever.”