wardentheo - Tumblr blog

[wardentheo]

eritvita:

Climbing trees has never been a hassle, next to the life he’s lived. Hell, made for the life he’s lived, clinging feet and zinging stars, grasping toes and screaming from the mountaintops, streaking through the trees, frightening birds and small animals from their perches and he’s so, so sorry for this notion, those poor creatures so spooked.

Keep reading

 As Roland’s gripping feet ascended to the treetops, so did Theo’s boot heels clamor against the soft dirt floor of the forest. A race it was, then! Bracing the scratch of branching greenery and dodging gnarled roots with excited leaps, the Warden rushed through the brush with a spark of competitive delight. It felt good -no, not good- spectacular to bound through nature with his Beloved, to embrace the strain of muscles and pounding heart and fluttering of startled birds. It felt like home, like freedom. Laughter belted out of him, loud and bright as the grin it rode from. Leaves rustled from above and rained down upon him, with them coming the beautiful graces of Roland’s voice. Roland’s songs. Theo’s heart burst to hear it, his eyes welling with the greatest of joy, his feet kicking up dirt as he tried his best to keep up; chasing that glorious chorus as if it were the last thing he may ever hear. Alas, awe triumphed and drew him to a waning halt until Theo stood still and panting and beaming as he watched towards the canopies, simply savoring the echo of his favorite voice. Utter bliss. Eyes fell to a close, honing his senses only to his ears as he chuckl---

fwoom - thUNK!

Eyelids snapped open to find an arrow lodged into a nearby tree, and instinct alone ushered him to find harbor behind another’s trunk. The exhilarated pounding in his chest traded with panic, and the rogue knelt silent as he listened to the conversation was being had above him. Understanding of it was scattered, but the knot in his stomach was still perfectly realized whence Roland volunteered himself to cordially greet an arrow with his face. Peeking out from his hiding place, Theo’s heart leapt as he nearly jumped, himself...until-- Wait. The weapon was lowered....there was familiarity. There was...love! A Reunion! The shriek from the Dalish stranger struck his nerves with a flinch, but the intensity was immediately overwhelmed by relief. By joy for not only his Love’s life, but his happiness. How beautiful a sight it was to behold such a heartfelt homecoming! A bark of a laugh dropped from tensed lungs before suddenly clasping a hand to his mouth. Already, Theo had begun to approach, but tried to keep his steps gentle as not to interrupt. This was an encounter beyond him, with years of history... but he couldn’t help but watch like a baited-breath audience within the first rows of perhaps the best play he’d ever seen. 

[wardentheo]

eritvita:

They move in tandem: Roland a stern, silent sentinel in his narrowed eyes and pointed ears, fly-away hair struck like a wild halo ‘round his head; watching where Theo doth watch, studying the errant lines of a wheel streak’d ‘cross the ground like a line waiting for them to cross. Roland’s expression nearly splits beneath the grin of his Triumph.

“Truthfully? The diet of the halla is normally a crop of elfroot.” Leaning down if only to touch Theo’s shoulder with a warm, intimate hand, Roland moves, thus; touching treebark, touching the tall, springing weeds with the tips of his fingers, reaching out to him as if to say hello! “‘Tis been over ten years since I hath met my clan and kinsmen. I remember… they prefer the trees, and the shade. They prefer the silence of the Wood, and so, that is where we go,” Roland answers, turning his head to look back, in eye contact.

And, grinning, eyebrows lifting, the sun streaks o’er his face like the brightened strokes of a fresh painting. “I could take the trees in grander heights than that of the terra firma. Shall I race thee?” His grin gleams. “My skills against thine. The winner could ask the second place for a favor,” he nearly purrs.

        The whisper of a smile lifted the contours of Theo’s lips, pleased to both gather even the tiniest of unknown insights, as well as witness Roland in his element. If the man could stay put for long enough, Theo swore he was so in tune with nature that he could very well sprout roots and be perfectly content to merge with the trees themselves. In their days apart, many moons before love bloomed, Theo could often catch himself being reminded of the kindly mage on his treks alone through the woods. Sometimes, he’d even indulge in the fantasy that his silenced voice was really the wind that rustled through leaves. It made him wonder just how at home he’d been with the Dalish...of all the teachings of his clan he still carried with him. How he must have missed them - Missed much from this wild life he’s lead. And, oh! How truly nervous must he have been to face them after all this time, even in spite of Theo’s reassurances?...         Calmly observing, Theo was slow to rise to his feet as Roland reminisced and he couldn’t help the grin that triumphed over his face. The fauna greeted his Love like old friends, the beams of sun accenting his features as if they knew just how much such beauty was to be appreciated. If only he had a kit and canvas to capture the image...but alas, he simply committed it to memory before the man at which he gawked sharpened his focus with words. Race?        “You mean...through the trees?!” He sputtered, Roland’s challenge followed too quickly with tempting reward for him to scour his brain for any clever rebuttal. Instead, Theo’s cheeks flushed a rosy tint all the way to the peak of his ears, even as the flash of his grin broke through. He couldn’t say no to that.          “Alright...You’re on. I’ll take low ground, you take high. But no cheating!” A stern glare met Roland’s eyes as The Warden made a fluttering wing motion with his hands high at his sides. Honestly, the benefit of shapeshifting talents could have served them well...but now that this was a competition, magic be damned! Without further hesitation, though eyes still locked, Theo had already begun along the path in search of clues. Rather hastily.       

[wardentheo]

rootsofvhenadahl

    “Careful.” He hummed, his tone lowering as he spoke. “Probably wouldn’t be wise to upset our tour guide.” There was a very subtle tinge of humor in his last few words, attempting to make some light of the situation. 

    He took the hankerchief from Theo’s hand without any hesitation, he’d much rather the smell of the polish, it was almost comforting. The aroma was one he had grown accustomed to growing up with the other elf. It reminded him, solely, of home. 

     With a sigh, he squeezed the fabric. “I don’t want to get used to it.” His voice was soft, but a layer of anxiety was buried deep within his words. He knew he wasn’t alone in his unease, though with how well Theo can mask his every emotion, it’s difficult to know just how bothered the other may be.  Tam brought the hankerchief up to his nose swiftly, the sharp smell of oil rapidly masking the sour taint of the Deep Roads. 

    The dimly lit halls seemed to continue on with absolutely no end in sight, several doorways with slimmer earthen paths snaked off of the main road into the darkness, the frame’s of such tunnels a mere silhouette against the little light provided from crimson torches, and were the least bit inviting.  He had heard the story of where Wardens go to die. What an awful way to go, so secluded from everything and anything you’re passionate about. Any final cry of defeat would only be met by the chilling silence of these crumbling, once majestic arches and walls stained by the blood of those who too, once feared entering such a destitute place. He followed silently behind Oghren, perfectly ready to leave the minute any of the others in their party have second thoughts. 

         In response to the teasing warning, Theo’s shoulder ‘accidentally’ barrelled into Tamryen’s as he passed to fall in toe with their dwarven guide ahead. A playful gesture that had not been the first, and would certainly not be the last. He had been so heartbroken for so long, had missed his old companion so deeply...it was of great relief to remember he still had a physical form. To show his affection, even if it was displayed as being nothing more than a little shit. With that everlasting smirk upon scarred lips, the young man took a moment to halt Oghren as honey-hued eyes surveyed their surroundings.             “Wait...Do you think you could navigate through shortcuts?” A torch-wielding fist gestured towards the nearest earthen trail, straying from the much older paved path. “If we are to beat Bhelen’s men in our search for the Paragon, we’ll need to be even more tenacious than them.” Theo’s ear twitched minutely as he heard himself mispronounce ‘tenacious’...but still, the confidence it bolstered within him just barely stifled the mounting fear of venturing through some unknown narrow tunnel. Those books he’d managed to choke down since expanding his literacy seemed to be paying off. Even if they were meant for children.            “If these paths end up being quicker than the road, we could beat them there....Not my first time squirming into a tight hole, anyway.” Theo’s rather obnoxious snort of laughter echoed into the darkness as he already took the first decisive steps, not bothering to wait for a group consensus on the matter. Cracking that last joke helped in concealing his own absolutely dreadful anxiety about this stupid plan, but he’d already voiced it and Maker be damned if he was going to be called a coward. Or a loser, if their quest was to be all for naught. Still, he made sure to keep his face straight forward to keep his terror hidden. 

[wardentheo]

      Eyes eased closed as though Roland’s voice were a lullaby, hushing him to rest. He would be a bold-faced liar to say that those words did not bring him an immense comfort. An encompassing warmth of fire on a long and frost-bitten night. Alas, his heart could not reach peace with such a promise, for he loved Roland far too dearly to have their ends join as one...however soothing the ideal may have been. However romantic.         In a show of pure vulnerability and adoration, the Warden finally moved from his stationary silence and positioned himself to sit upon his Love’s lap. Not unlike a frightened youth, startled by thunder and seeking solace, Theo wrapped his arms tight around Roland. In honesty, The Calling was perhaps the only thing Theo still truly feared facing. To know, with certainty, that each day that passed was another day closer towards being driven mad and dying alone under miles of stone, in the darkest bowels of the enemy - such inevitable fate infected him with the deepest terror. As utterly, positively relieving it would have been to have Roland at his side when the time came...that terror was not something he would ever wish to share.         Fine elven stubble shifted against slightly coarser scruff as Theo’s face nestled fondly into Roland’s neck. The heat of breathy whisper muffled against the other man’s skin when he finally spoke, soft and gentle and somber.        “My heart...Ma’Vhenan.” He repeated, the slightest smile audible on his unseen lips. How he cherished hearing that endearment from the man he so very deeply loved. Who loved him so much he’d swear to face hell itself with him. His Roland.        “The darkness of the Taint corrupts every glimpse of light it reaches...do not let it prematurely steal away the beauty you bring to the world, as well. You needn’t swear a thing.”

(I couldn't choose woops, u do it ) ❛ Take me with you! for luck, for laughs, for the unknown.❜ and/or ❛Everything dies. I want to die when you die.❜

The old, ancient adage of the Grey Warden ability has been the bane of this relationship overflowing even the nasty, gritty moment whence Theo found out about the pen-palmanship Roland’s keeps with his Ex-Wife of childhood.

“I will die with you,” he firms; in a moment of pure, tender emotion, in the privacy of their own room. “I will go with you, when the Calling sounds. I shant leave thee alone to face the negativity of the bowels of the beast, ma’vhenan. I swear it.”

The Last Unicorn (1982) starters.

[wardentheo]

let your character fuck up. please. let them fuck up on a scale so massive that this particular thing cannot be salvaged. let their fuck up have permanent consequences. and stoooooooooooooooop having them being the smartest person in the room who always has a sharp comeback to put their enemies down, and who always handles their enemies with grace or at least an air of superiority that s justified because they’re so cool and smart and clever™ let them bleed for their mistakes, let them MAKE those mistakes, and let that bleeding be ugly and disgraceful. let them suffer for their own mistakes, and let them suffer in knowing that they cannot fix. and let other people hate them for the shit they’ve done, and for once let the haters not be ‘petty bad people’. Let the haters be right.

[wardentheo]

commanderhopeless replied to your post:

long hair in a helmet is everything I fear

[[GAWRD do not want. Even with some tight ass braids that sounds like a nightmare...but imagine those totes beachy waves after soaking in sweat all day, yknow.

rootsofvhenadahl replied to your post:

   (RIP those were supposed to be hearts. I love Theo’s hair though)   

[[Do not encourage this punk ass bitch.

[wardentheo]

[[Having recently cosplayed Theo, I now hold the headcanon that he’s even more of a stubborn prima-donna about his hair than I thought he was.

THAT SHIT IS NOTHING BUT A HAZARD. I HATE HIM FOR IT. As dedicated a dude as he is, he should have just shaved it all off but it is thE ONE THING. HE WILL NOT GIVE UP FOR DUTY. That luscious mane, bb

[wardentheo]

"Are you really happy now?" (HEY BABE smooches u)

[HELLO MY DEAR!! feshfegyw

Stark gaze focused just below the sharp, inquisitive raise of a dark brow. A thoughtful pause filled the gap between question and answer, though soon enough his voice followed Cauthrien’s with the usual creep of friendliness upon his features.

“…What does that even mean, really? ‘Happy’?” The Warden shrugged with a charming flash of teeth. Ever-deflecting, even when he knew she of all people saw right through him. Still, he’d take his own route to get to the point.

“I’m happy when I’m petting puppies, I’m happy when I’m dancing. Never have I known it to be a state to live in…but I have purpose. That is enough to satisfy me.” 

[wardentheo]

you think you want me to shut up? i have to listen to myself even when im not talking

[wardentheo]

rootsofvhenadahl

    As they ventured into the vast underground labyrinth, a pungent odor all but knocked him back, he scrunched his face and took a deep breath through his mouth. He had expected a subtle, earthy aroma, but instead was met with a stagnant, musty taint with the distant scent of general decay in the air. He huffed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, then glanced up to match his companion’s look of utter disdain.

     “Supposedly, to find that- er, paragon?” He whispered, not wanting to gather the attention of their rather, raucous new friend. His gaze flickered momentarily to that of their odd dwarven companion, thankfully the other seemed blissfully unaware of their conversation.

     “You’re telling me, it stinks to high heavens in here, not sure how long I can endure such a terrible smell.” He definitely wasn’t the only one to smell it, that he knew. Breathing through his mouth was not ideal, not with how stale the air was. How did anything live down here?? Or, more importantly, what still lives down here?

      The fowl hint across his features only strengthened in agreement with Tam's observation. Having essentially grown up sharing the same shelter as gutter rats, displeasure to the senses was never really something that deterred Theo, though even he had to admit the stench was something difficult to ignore. Even Shit-water and week-old Alienage animal carcasses couldn't quite measure up to the waft of ancient must and unknown rot that the deeproads served up to one's nostrils. It was somehow worsened by the ominous mystery of it all - an odor so particular that he already knew it'd be segregated to only bad memories; a scent that assaulted his very skin with how thick it lived in the air they breathed - he could have sworn he almost felt the very corruption now swimming in his veins. It made him shiver.  

      "Oh, I just thought that was ol' Oghren, here!" The elf's humor was nearly a knee-jerk reaction to the unease, as if to catapult them away from the true weight of what they were daring to venture into. With a lean and a jesting jab of his elbow towards the stout man in question, his grin accompanied a mirthful wink. "No wonder we're havin' to drag his wife back to him, huh?"   

       For all the wildly inappropriate joking the two had been carrying on with up to this point, it seemed Theo had misjudged just how far he could take it. The comment warranted nothing but a staunch, disapproving glare and a snarl of teeth that raised the curtain of a fiery braided mustache. Woops. The Warden's laugh fizzled into chuckles, which trailed into silence. The grin he wore survived through pure habit, though all the jovial life had drained from his face, leaving it hollow.

        "...Aaanyway," Voice crescendoed from an initial squeak as he pivoted on a heel to crane his attention back to Tam. "I'm sure we'll get used to it, in no time." Voice muffled into cloth as the kerchief around his neck was pulled up into a mask over his nose and mouth. After, he'd quickly retrieved a stained, tattered rag from one of his belt pouches and offered it to his friend to take - It may have wreaked of dagger polish and oil, but at least that was better than cave-funk. 

[wardentheo]

Deep Ass Starters.

Sometimes it's hard to get in depth with your muse and their backstory, because you can't figure out how to bring those things up with others. Here are a couple of starters intended to make things a little more personal!

"What's holding you back?"

"I'm not comfortable with this conversation."

"Will you /ever/ be comfortable with this conversation?"

"Let me in sometime!"

"It's not that easy, you know."

"Help me understand."

"It's hard to connect with someone when all they do is push you away."

"Why are you always so cold?"

"Why are you always so happy?"

"Are you really happy now?"

"Who hurt you this badly to make you this way?!"

"What, did your ex mess you up that badly?!"

"Why do you keep fighting it any time you feel?"

"It's a problem, I get it."

"This is all kinds of messed up."

"That's not exactly a good coping method."

"So what happened, with your parents, really?"

"What was your childhood like?"

"Everyone has at lest a little bit of mommy/daddy issues. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"My parents aren't exactly perfect models, either."

"You were bullied? What for?"

"Was it hard? Coming out, I mean."

"You can't just run away all the time."

"You can't just hide all the time."

"Are you still thinking about them?"

"I'm not the enemy here. But this makes me wonder who the real one is for you."

"Is the reason you're so cold and defensive because you feel threatened?"

"How long has it been since you last spoke to them?"

"You never talk about it, why?"

"How come you're so different around them?"

"It's like you don't have a care or worry in the world."

"You seem so perfect. I don't get it."

"What was your ex like?"

"I don't think I was ever good enough for them."

"Are you not comfortable being intimate?"

"Why don't you feel comfortable being intimate?"

"Letting someone see you that vulnerable, it's a scary thing."

"Are you scared of being hurt?"

"Have you ever been taken advantage of?"

"Why are you afraid of saying I love you?"

"I never understood how someone could say those words so easily."

"You're hurting others the way you've been hurt in the past, don't you think that's ironic?"

"You use people to make yourself feel better."

"I'm scared of being used again..."

"Losing someone isn't easy, but you're making it harder than it needs to be."

"How long has it been since you lost them?"

"You're too attached."

"I'm not attached, I'm just comfortable with what I'm familiar to."

"Maybe the real reason you're so controlling is because, deep down you'd rather have them in your grasp than lose them."

"Why did you ever break up?" / "Why did we ever break up?"

[wardentheo]

It’s not the kind of place where one turns down a tumble.

[wardentheo]

       @rootsofvhenadahl

       The crunch of gravel under boot-heel became far more pronounced upon taking those first few steps over the official threshold into the deeproads. There seemed to be a particular stillness in the already stagnant underground air, bringing attention to the scraping echoes as if to punctuate the oppressive uncertainty that laid ahead. It stopped Theo dead in his tracks where before, he had barely paid mind in favor of joking with the newcomer Oghren, sharing harsh sips from whatever was in his flask.

       Now, his upbeat poo-pooing of danger rang hollow in his bones as amber eyes scanned the vast, ancient stone arches that had been left to the mercy of time. He’d come to pride himself on adaptability in any situation...but...this was all completely foreign to him. Already, he yearned for the surface, again. They had barely yet ventured into the darkness and already he felt drowned by the underground alleys surrounding them, his heart gasping for a breath of fresh open-sky air.

      His hand subtly reached for the mabari at his side, scratching at the scruff of Toki’s neck for some semblance of comfort. It was passed off as the opposite, as if staying his hound’s unease instead, to mask his own anxieties the best he could.

      “So. Tell me again, why are we here?” Theo leaned in to mutter to his partner before matching Tam’s gaze with a reinforced smirk, however weak. “Our booze rations are low, so best not be here too long, aye?”

[wardentheo]

eritvita

He melts on that simplistic form of verbose and nature like warmed wax just beginning to see the peak of the orange dawn, and he presses his lips to Theo’s knuckles with the edge of a reverent man come seeking sup.

Keen, sharp eyes look above those knuckles, as Roland thinks carefully on this new ploy. How does one find a Dalish encampment in the middle of the Wood? To find those whom do not wish to be found in the rightful first place? He lifts his head with the sharp edge of a deer looking into the greenbrush, and e’ery thought-of-form in his body puts on the airs as a wild, flammable creature; forgotten in his ides to be the human being, of course. All around them is the tell-tale signs of absent Nature; green, healthy bushes of thorns and hidden berries, ripe and green and soft nooks of animal refuse and burrows; black trees so old they resemble more like fossils as tender shoots of baby leaves rise in gay tones t’ward the aching, clear sky of blue clouds and the hot, radiant Sun, painted as a deity on His cotton throne.

And thoughtfully doth Roland hum, soft as a hummingbird’s wings. “Hast thou e’er hunted before, my love?” he asks, as his eyes hath narrowed in his complacency to Find. Everything comes for him all at once, senses and knowledge, and his Father’s voice begging him to use the skills in which he was Known, as he was taught, all those years ago; that he still uses in his want of animalistic safety.

But Roland’s eyebrows doth bounce. “But, without the proper pay-off of primitive nutrients. We may need to track these people, to find them as accordingly. ‘Twould send them the proper respect as one who hast ne’er seen them, I think.” And Roland sends a sly, playful look Theo’s way, full of companionable, gorgeous meaning.

      An inner skip of admiration lifted Theo's head to observe as Roland peered this way and that, the fresh morning rays painting a warm halo of sunlight around his head. Fitting, he thought, and smiled in lieu of their current predicament. Upon the inquiry of his experience with hunting, the Warden offered a quick nod of assurance that he had indeed understood and could deliver on the idea Roland was so graciously nudging him towards. With all the traveling he'd done, he not only needed to learn long ago how to become self-reliant when it came to food, but also in knowing where safety did and did not lie. Though likely nothing close to the nature of Roland’s own skill, tracking had become a secondary habit in being both inconspicuous and aware for Theo. A staple rule in any successful endeavor was to first, think like your target. With Roland's last encouraging comment, he aimed to do just that.

     A swell of determination and hope blossomed inside his ribs at the implications of proving oneself, and another enthused nod followed with a grin to match his Love's. Roland knew just where and how to titillate him, didn't he?

     "Aah, not even a nibble?" Theo playfully pouted in regards to hunting without reward, though followed it with a chuckle before falling into a more astute manner. After a moment of taking in their surroundings once more, his knee gently met the forest floor to inspect a nearby plateau of dirt. What did he know of Dalish that could be useful, now? - Nomadic and insular. Tracking animals was easy - they didn't bother to cover their own tracks...but, that task could also be quite difficult for elves when traveling in the numbers of a clan. A caravan, even; it was then that he squinted curiously at a particular path. The ground was precariously muddled in a faux-natural way, with smears just a tad too smooth to be accidental. Footprints beside the tracks of a wheel, perhaps? He couldn't be sure it was even Dalish and not just a passing cart, but not just anyone would go through the trouble of attempting to obscure tracks - it was a better lead than nothing, eh?

"Shall we start this way?" Theo concluded. He pat his palm on the inspected ground to show Roland while craning his head to smile up at him. "Have you any ideas of other clues they could leave behind?" It wouldn't be an easy task to track a group of born-and-raised survivalists, but the question almost seemed to float atop a babbling brook of pure intrigue; There was an almost child-like thirst for knowing that twinkled in his eye as Theo took to his feet. "Do hallas have a preferred plant to nibble on? Does your clan have any particular habits on travels?...I wonder if they all stop for bathroom breaks, or if you just have to risk getting left behind." He chuckled at that, but kept his eyes on the scarce tracks below his now purposeful steps.

[wardentheo]

eritvita

They bump shoulders as they walk; their clasped hands like a living thing.

Roland laughs. “Nay: thy heart and soul should be sufficient enough to gain their consciousness.” He shrugs. “But if naught, that is their keeping: not thine.” For hours they’ve walked; nameless miles hiding beneath the shimmering leaf of golden and burnished oak; brown, craggy things and silted twigs snapping beneath their feet, stinking of fresh grass and the desperate, fading tang of wild onions and yellow dandelion weeds. Roland had gone an extra mile to wear boots for this long journey, aching in his knees and turning green-stained, and he already sweats ‘twixt his toe cracks for want of a proper form of Comfort.

“Much has changed,” he goes on to say; for he feels it in the wind, in the ground, and he gains a faraway expression from the softness of it, and it deepens in settlement of his face. “I’ve naught a wonder what that could mean. ‘Tis been years since I hath seen these people, and I am not sure if my letter had gone through.” He passes a sheepish glance to his Theo. “They would recognize me,” he continues, “if the guards of the Past are indeed the guards of the Now. I will speak with them firstly, if all pretenses should thus be shirked, and they do not remember me.” And his brow goes cloudy, thoughtful, as he doth continue to look a’fore him, in his walking.

“… I should hope that they remember me,” he says slowly. “I should hope I would not be forgotten.” 

            The worrisome weight perched atop Theo’s wrinkled brow soon eased at Roland’s words, melting away altogether upon hearing reason. True enough; all he could do was his best and the rest was out of his hands. It brought a smile to his face and an ease in his chest, as was often the case when seeing through his Beloved’s eyes. The continuation of their walk remained more carefree on his behalf, to the point of continued conversation.              Ear twitched, on instinct, as did the comforting brush of his thumb against the flesh of Roland’s palm. It was his turn to offer the evened scale of perspective - or at least, serve as partner in whatever was to come of this new information.             “No one could forget you.” The words fell not with cliche’ sweetness, but rather with a frank certainty as honey-hued eyes took to surveying their surroundings. With talk of potential miscommunication, a familiar sharpness of the Watchful Rogue’s nature settled over him like the first waves of the tide soaked into the cracks of shore.

             There brewed a downplayed buzzing in Theo’s gut. The only Dalish he'd ever encountered had been a formidable and wary folk upon first meeting, but he tried to let that influence little of his current situation. Alas, where initial doubt sprouted in his sense, the Warden quickly stomped it out in himself. Instead, he paused his footing completely to halt Roland alongside him with a gentle grasp. Firm hands offered a warm squeeze to punctuate a sincere and encouraging gaze.             “You mean no harm and you still know their ways, which is far more than anyone else they might encounter. You are no stranger to them, whatever the case.”  This adventure through Dalish lands would be different; he was with Roland, which forced him to trust and believe in the words that came from his own mouth. He was special, and that was true, and all would be well.

         Even so, it still would be far more ideal if they could manage to avoid any clumsy introductions and re-introductions alike. "...But, letter or no, what is the etiquette of greeting them...? Shall we continue on to find them - or do they find us?"              Deer, he could track. Forest-raised elves...far less conspicuous.

[wardentheo]

eritvita

The grin blooms and spreads whence a palm is pressed so firmly on the breadth of his clothe’d skin, slinking and pressing down on the wrinkles of his old, harrowed tunic. He doth pause in his packing, and leans downward whence his Chosen Man leans upward; and he cups Theo’s palm in both hands, migrating to cup his face, as they come together; body to body, pressed tenderly against the front of each other.

Such sneaking, hidden hints of romance in nearly every bit of Theo’s voice, and Roland’s grin deepens, grants a sharpness where there could possibly be a sharpness. The tips of his healthy canine teeth touch mildly the shining swell of his bottom lip, and his eyebrows rise, playfully.

He guffaws distinctly whence he bleats. “What sound doth a stag make? Hah!” He laughs! “A goat for thee, and a deer for me! What a couple we make, two hoof’d things prancing ‘round the merry-go bush as a painting of the Sabbat!” He laughs cackling, nuzzling Theo’s face; brushing his beginning-beard, creasing in his neck and scratching stubble to make him laugh.

    It was still early morning, the sun just now stirring awake over the peaks of yonder mountain ranges, hours after they themselves had begun their trek into the wilderness. While the air still held a crisp bite, chilly enough to watch one's breath dance ahead of them, Theo was convinced his rosy running nose was ailing him for different reasons. Probably all the close-quarters kept in the claustrophobic few days they'd spent on the sea. It wasn't the most ideal ship to hitch a ride on, but it was the soonest to leave port for the Free Marches.

      Maker, from Theo's unease of horseback to catching sea-sickness (not to mention how ragged he'd looked the last time he'd checked a mirror before leaving the Ansburg Keep), it was a testament of Roland's love how he put up with it all. Quite gracefully, at that.

       At the thought, honey-hued eyes glinted with a burst of vibrancy as the fresh sunrays warmed his sleepy face - a fitting moment, like many fleeting moments of poetry allowed by nature, to reflect his beaming heart. He beheld and quietly admired the taller man walking alongside him, with leaves still captured in curls and the gentle points of his ears a blushing pink from the nipping cold. The softest smile delicately wrinkled the corners of his gaze and with a passing yawn, his hand found its familiar home in Roland's. Theo was often left bruised and exhausted on his travels, but this time every step was an adventure instead of a task. He was haggard, and he was happy about it.

       Feet carried him along, enjoying the fresh air while allowing his ponderings to pleasantly wander. He’d been rehearsing his Elvish greetings for the billionth time in his mind when a sudden gasp of realization jerked his head up from it's idle downward tilt. Before he could even form his thoughts, they already came tumbling from his lips in hasty rambling.

     "Should I bring them a present?!...Oh shit, I should have brought them a present- I have nothing to offer, is that rude?--what about music, would they like music?" It was a custom he often adhered to when meeting new company, yet somehow it had completely slipped his mind. And now so deep into the forest, they would be upon Roland’s clan at any time, now. The scrambling worry of ‘good first impressions’ relayed openly on the poor man’s features. 

[wardentheo]

mienhxrel:

@wardentheo || ♥

“You know if you’re ever hungry, you’re welcome to eat with us. We have enough to spare.” The Tabris family is well off in comparison to most of their neighbours — which, in the Alienage, means they do not regularly starve, and might even be able to put aside some of their earnings during good times, for when times are harder. But then, to be four people of working age, none younger or older, in a single family is unusual. If Cyrion has his will it won’t last for much longer, either.

“There’s no need for you to STEAL.”

 Pointed ears perked up in attention upon hearing that familiar voice addressing him. The arch in his brow that followed peaked towards such a generous offer, only to fall flat at the mention of ‘stealing’. Ah, shit.

He must have been caught red-handed, very literally, with his dirtied fingers still clutching the apple he’d swiped from a vendor’s crate just seconds prior. Almost on instinct, the young fellow clutched the fruit tighter and jerked it back, as if obscuring the evidence would somehow absolve him of the crime she’d already clearly witnessed. There came a hot surge of annoyance at the blatant accusation - it’s not like there was any guilt in stealing from Shems, he did it all the time. That’s just the way things worked around their parts of town. Alas, he relented. Shianni wasn’t pointing fingers...she was trying to help. In his mind, pitying him, even. It made him fidget, uncomfortably.

“C’mon, It’s hardly stealing when you’re taking from someone who already has plenty.” Theo’s words held a biting matter-of-fact tone as he gestured back to the fruit salesman, who’d remained none the wiser. Still, his signature smirk presented itself, as usual. A smug characteristic he seemed to showcase far more often after a noble left his mouth scarred in a failed pick-pocketing debacle a year ago. In his case, humor had very well been an adaptation of survival and it served him quite well when it came to avoiding things; His specialty.

“Thanks for the offer, Shianni...but I gotta be honest with ya. Your cooking is just terrible. I’ll take my chances eating gutter rats.” Teeth captured his bottom lip to cage a playful snicker that tried to escape.