whencicatrized

[whencicatrized]

caught a lovely cold from my toddler (thank you for sneezing in my face my wonderful boy) so replies will be... eventually lol.

[whencicatrized]

@fatewoven asked for death: of course you're going to see me again.

Wind whipped through his hair as they stood on the balcony of Home. Jumping off and landing hundreds of iles below on the sand would have probably hurt less than the words uttered.

It had been roughly seven months since they left each other's sides - since Vash walked into the arms of his brother (and the painful control of Legato) in order to help Wolfwood achieve whatever his goal had been. He didn't know, because he never asked, but he knew with every fiber of his being that it was protecting someone - probably a kid - because he knows Nicholas better than he knows himself. And because of this intimate knowledge, he also knew when the other was lying. Especially when it was this blatantly, without any half truths trying to soften the blow.

Wherever Wolfwood planned to go next, he planned to die.

Alone.

Vash's eyes stung, and though he tried to blame the sand and wind, the exhaustion, the pain, he knew it was merely the threat of tears. One swallow, two, and his throat was mostly clear enough for him to speak. "Of course, yeah." Did the words ring just as false to Wolfwood? "After I stop my brother we can finally get those drinks, right? You owe me, you said." They both knew it wasn't Vash's mission that was going to keep them apart this time.

Movement at the edge of his vision almost got him to turn, but he stared resolutely forward. It would hurt less, he thought, if he didn't have to see the pity sadness in those warm brown eyes. Maybe this avoidance would let them both have one more night of pretending - that this wasn't the end, that there could actually be a future for them, that either would get the chance to settle down and learn what peace felt like.

"I think we should travel further west. There's this spot, way past where humans have settled, its this canyon the worms ended up carving through a mountain. Gorgeous view. You'd really like it, I think." If he just kept speaking... "maybe you could teach me to whittle, I think that'd be an inspiring place to learn a craft" if they never let this moment change into the next... "do you think we can do that, Wolfwood? Can we go there some day?" Please, please, please... just give me this one wish.

Eight months later, Vash stood alone at the edge of the canyon. It was larger than when he'd been there before, though that had been several decades ago. The wooden bird he held in his hand was barely more than a lump - uneven and rough, asymmetrical, leaving plenty of splinters behind as it was carved.

Maybe if someone had been there to teach him how, it could have turned out beautiful.

[whencicatrized]

working out the details of my verse where Hawke is left in the fade (something I've had since DAI but now can be more fleshed out!) feel free to throw out ideas or remind me if something doesn't fit with lore. I'm throwing darts at the wall and hoping for something coherent.

as the veil is weakened, during the brief moment between elger'nan's death and Solas being tied to it, Hawke and his new bestie manage to make it through. they land in the middle of minrathous, thoroughly confused but ready to kick ass, if needed.

time feels different in the fade, and he isn't totally sure how much time had passed. his body remained the same, but mentally he knows it's been a few years at least.

while in there a spirit of courage found him and helped protect him, thriving off the way Hawke refused to roll over and die. "I've faced worse than this" he says, "nothing could be worse than seeing the patched together monster a madman made of my mother!" (Aveline insists Courage is delusional. clearly its a Reckless demon and they're both in denial).

coming out to find out everyone mourned him, only for him to now have to mourn Varric..... agony

[whencicatrized]

@xthestormcrow continued:

Waiting a beat, two - with her hands on her hips and a smile on her lips, she knows that with enough patience she'll get exactly the reaction she wants. As if cued, Sylva breaks. "You say that as if you won't get caught. How many people have the skills to take his things, eh? You'll be the first suspect." The odds of Lucanis encouraging this - purely to cause a little chaos - were incredibly high. Still... "And I'll be the second, so I might as well get in on the fun, too." Besides, she still owed Viago for stealing her kill during their last job together. "Alright, Sylvita, I'll keep him busy with shop talk and you get the dagger, deal?"

[whencicatrized]

Little wrinkles form at the corners of Fenris' eyes when he smiles. They hadn't been there before, and something about the sight of them makes his heart full to bursting. The urge to learn poetry so he can spout it off at moments like this grows once more - and yet something stops him. Some odd sort of embarrassment, the kind he can't control, would be too much to bear. Instead he resorts to his tired and true method: asinine comments to cover up his emotions. "Perhaps I am just a few nugs in a trench coat. You must immediately undress me in order to check!" Thankfully, they are both similar in this regard and Hawke is able to laugh at his lover's actions, rather than give in to the swirling dips and dives his heart is trying to take. "There is no such thing as enough indulgence." With that, he darts in closer to steal one, two, three more little kisses peppered across marked skin. "But very well! If you'll withhold more as a reward than I shall get to work!" And with that, as the latest village they stopped by truly did need more herbs, he got to work scouting the hilltop for the leafy stalks.

Seated on chunks of slate, there's nowhere else to retreat save tumbling down the entire mountain face. Fenris leans back if only go goad him closer. Then, the slip of a breath, ever endeared if not pleasantly surprised by the grace of a tender touch against his face. It's a familiar sensation, this gentleness; somehow always reminiscent of the first time; painful and sacred and priceless beyond words. "Yours is a simple mind even a blind nug could navigate," he replies, mirth curving sweet at the corner of his eyes. Sword-callused, his palm rests over Hawke's hand, over the scarred ridges of his knuckles — and it's with a slight turn of the head he presses a kiss to the lifeline that's been scarred from so many years of fighting. A wordless indication of sentiment returned twice-fold: you have been dearly missed, too. "One. Is that enough?" Never ever, ever! He hears the breeze laugh in scattered echoes. "You've been indulged enough on our way up here." Contradicting the gravelly statement, there's a small satchel of goods in his pack: wine and imported cheese.

[whencicatrized]

Most Antivan Crows do not live long enough to experience a midlife crisis

The Crows supply their ranks generally from orphans, illegitimate or abandoned children, children purchased from slavery, whore houses and other similar sources. Some are born into the Crows already, but those would be a very small minority, for reasons explained below.

Lucanis mentions that Crow training involves a lot of acrobacy. After a brief search, sports with similar physical requirements such as gymnastics, ballet and martial arts have the ideal starting age in the range of 4-10 years, 15 at the latest, when the children's joints are still flexible (and their minds can be easily manipulated). Zevran is canonically stated to have been taken at the age of 7.

Crow training is intense and brutal, involving straight up torture as tests of pain tolerance. From the 18 fledglings of House Arainai taken in the same year as Zevran, only two survived to the end of their training (World of Thedas Vol. 2). Training with real weapons, harsh punishment, possibly the Spartan custom of underfeeding the children and driving them to stealing food for themselves to encourage learning stealth and resourcefulness, and very likely killing any who try to run away, all these are very likely factors for the high death rate among fledglings.

If the average age of newest Crow fledglings is 6, they might be ready for promotion to the rank of Assassin very well as early as the age of 14-15. This is where the second meat grinder starts, these new Crows will already have plenty experience, but the first solo contracts will still likely take many of them, either killed by their targets, by their Masters for failing the contract, or by themselves to avoid the pain and humiliation of returning to their Masters unsuccessful. This period might likely have the highest suicide rates in general, as the new Crows are still relatively emotionaly vulnerable but old enough to comprehend their position in the world and the weight of their actions.

Promotion to the rank of Assassin also certainly brings great benefits that only increase as the Crow's career progresses and their contracts bring them more coin. The comforts and opulence of Antiva are for them to take, and someone who has grown up only knowing hunger and pain will certainly not hold back. Alcohol, drugs, sex, all the addictions and diseases will surely take the lives of many Crows.

An Assassin's career begins early and ends early. To use sports and dance once again, most porfessional gymnasts and ballet dancers retire between the ages of 25 and 35 as their physical capabilities decline. Those who have survived this long will be granted the rank of Master and oversee the distribution of contracts and the training of fledglings, and will participate in actual assassinations much less. This is also where one might strive to become a Grandmaster or even a Talon. At this point, a Crow will have enough prominence within the organization that they might become a target themselves. Only the most skilled, well-connected and ruthless Crows will continue to rise and, most importantly, continue to live.

If a presumed average number of fledglings per House is around 20, 2-3 will make it to Assassin. In one Assassin's 20 years long career, that would make only about 50 new Assassins out of 400 fledglings. Probably only about a half of those will make it to 35. Even fewer will make it to 50. Out of 400 children bought or stolen from the streets.

Caterina Dellamorte is over 70 years old.

[whencicatrized]

PROMPTS FROM PRACTICAL MAGIC *  assorted dialogue from the 1998 film, adjust as necessary

sometimes i feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn.

be careful what you wish for.

wish you could believe in me.

we have to banish him.

he wants me. just me.

what was that, [name]?

you know what? i wished for you, too.

let him take me.

the nudity is entirely optional.

it wasn't me, it was you.

we'll grow old together.

can love really travel back in time and heal a broken heart?

i think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean.

don't die on me, [name], please.

i bet we even die on the same day.

of course you're going to see me again.

hang on to your husbands, girls.

what wouldn't i do... for the right guy?

i have this dream of being whole, of not going to sleep each night, wanting.

i took an oath to uphold the law.

life is perfect.

don't do that.

i'd like to think so.

i have never asked you for anything.

i feel like i'm never going to see you again.

what are you doing?

i came here to bring in the bad guy because generally that's what i do.

sometimes when the wind is warm or the crickets sing, i dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for.

i just want someone to love me.

i want to be seen.

please do this for me. please?

hold on just a goddamn second. one step at a time.

that's how you came to live with us.

everything is just so blissfully normal.

i wish you could see us.

they like to meddle in people's love lives.

thought you never wanted to fall in love.

you're saying what i'm feeling is just one of your spells?

fall in love whenever you can.

when you find yourself the center of attention... it's not that they hate you. it's that... well. we're different.

you have the worst taste in men.

i was born with them.

since when is being a slut a crime in this family?

you ever put your arms out and spin really, really fast?

maybe i had my happiness.

you promised me that.

so what kind of... uh... craft do you do.

yeah. it's not real.

curses only have power when you believe them. and i don't.

all i want is a normal life.

that's the point.

yeah, well, you know. all relationships have problems.

that's what love is like. it makes your heart race. it turns the world upside down.

when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue?

well... it's what i want.

now that was me.

i don't want them dancing naked under the full moon.

the guy i dreamed of doesn't exist.

is that why they wanted to hang her? because she's a witch?

i don't even mind the beard.

there's a little witch in all of us.

what was that?

i'll tell you all you need to know.

one step at a time.

you think he's dead?

is he cute?

you came for breakfast? we're having pancakes!

what's wrong? cat got your tongue?

someday you'll explain this all to me.

[whencicatrized]

PROMPTS FOR PATCHING UP WOUNDS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

it's honestly nothing. i can deal with it myself.

next time something like this happens, you have to promise to tell me.

you're making a big deal out of nothing. i'll be fine.

how long have you had that?

i'm good at this, you know. patching up wounds.

would you cut it out? i'm trying to help you.

why didn't you tell me you were bleeding?

you didn't have to take that hit for me.

what are you hiding from me?

it's not the worst injury i've ever seen, but it's pretty bad.

how long were you going to hide this from me?

at least let me look at it.

there. it looks much better.

this will help with the pain.

i'm forever in your debt.

i didn't have anywhere else to go.

this wasn't supposed to happen.

is that your blood?

i've patched up nastier wounds than this.

stop squirming! you're going to be fine!

this is bad. this is really bad.

i just need a band-aid and a nap. i'll be fine.

we need to get you to a hospital.

how does it look? be honest.

keep your eyes open, okay? keep looking at me.

it doesn't hurt that bad.

give me your hand. let me look at it.

who taught you how to patch a wound like that?

it's not as bad as i thought it would be, that's for sure.

would you just let me help you? please?

you saved my life.

let me go find my first aid kit. it's in here somewhere.

i'll take care of it. you just sit and rest.

see? that wasn't so bad after all.

i've seen worse.

take two of these and drink some water.

ow! that really hurt!

i've got you, okay? everything's going to be fine.

you're gonna have to take your shirt off.

well... it could have been worse.

it looks worse than it really is, i swear.

roll up your sleeve a little, will you?

does that feel all right?

i didn't even realize i was bleeding.

you could have been killed out there!

give me a second to patch this up.

don't close your eyes. you hear me? stay with me.

i'm not giving up on you just yet.

you still need some time to heal.

i'm right here. i won't leave your side.

thank you for taking care of me.

if you can still hear me, help is on the way!

just squeeze my hand when it starts hurting.

how long have i been out?

let me check for a fever.

did you patch this up?

i've had worse injuries than this.

where did you learn to do that?

take some deep breaths for me.

look at me. you're going to be fine.

hold still! stop moving around so much!

i'll take care of you.

what the hell were you thinking?

where does it hurt?

i'm so used to doing this myself.

lift up your shirt a little so i can see.

lay back down. you're not healed up yet.

you never should have put yourself in harm's way like that.

looks like i've got myself a really good nurse.

will you stay with me while i sleep?

no one's ever helped me like that before.

i would have died had it not been for you.

don't you get it? if you don't let me help you, you'll die.

we have to be quick about this.

this could get bad.

[whencicatrized]

@taughtdamage bullied me

[whencicatrized]

Warmth kissed his cheeks as a slight breeze ruffled his hair. Once, long ago, those were the only forms of affection he recognized - the only sort he ever expected to have. Oh, how times have changed. Here within arms reach is the greatest love he's ever known, one who manages to stay with him despite it all. "I contain multitudes! Or whatever it was Isabela used to claim." An easy smile rose to his lips, fondness screaming from the way he leaned down, the way his shoulders angled toward Fenris, how his eyes hardly left his companion. "I can gather herbs and-" Kon gave an exaggerated return of the expression, attempting to take it beyond charming and into ridiculous territory. "Can I not indulge in your beauty? We've been seperated so often lately..." His hand, rough and calloused and scarred, manages to lay gently against his lover's cheek. He had missed Fenris, and it had been far too long, but even when they did get to spend every day together he was insatiable. "Perhaps a few kisses will help me get back on task...?"

A glimmer especially bright in his gaze, Fenris tilts his head toward the sun — robust features catching the noon-rays of geniality. Perhaps with such a bright, welcoming expression he might've been once in his life appear approachable; no weight to press against his shoulders, a sprawl of limbs open an inviting. Such was never the fate of a slave turned wolf, but then again, he hadn't expected to live this long either. The mountains around them, in an area tucked between the Anderfels and the Imperium in that vague, disputed territory neither could fully claim, he watches his companion with appreciation, smiling at the strands of grey reflecting the daylight. Then, a knowing rolling of the eyes before he tosses back the watersack at @whencicatrized as he regains a steadier footing across the weather-worn paths. "Hawke. We came here to collect herbs. Not—" He quirks his brow the way Konnor often does in clear mockery of the suggestive (and dearly playful) gesture.

[whencicatrized]

how do you need to be touched?

hawke: fervently.

you crave a hug that cracks your ribs... the feeling of your wandering soul being crushed back into the bones that can't seem to hold it. you need a hand gripping yours so tightly you almost fear it may leave a bruise, a reminder that you are here. that you are not alone.

bellara: gently.

you need to be held as though you're going to break. you need someone to trace your scars like cracks in a wall, crumbling. their touch is almost painful; you've been without it for too long, without someone to hold you. but, you cannot bring yourself to pull away.

teia: cautiously.

your teeth are bared, as they have been, your jaw aching for so long as growls slip free. you always have to defend yourself. you lash out in fear. you need someone who does not shrink back... a hand falling slowly to your shoulder, however briefly, in a reminder that you do not have to lunge. there is no damage there, now.

[whencicatrized]

"I do. Insist, I mean. It would just cause a fight and that'd lead to more people being upset and- we don't really need to deal with that, do we?" It had been such a nice night before the comment, and it was still salvageable! Bel wasn't about to let some stupid jerk ruin their fun - especially not when they got so little time to truly relax as it was. Her first instinct was to deny, deny, deny. But her second - one that was steadily growing stronger the more she hung out with Rook - insisted that was correct. "Well, you have a point. What I'm saying isn't any less important than the others here, right?" Right. She just had to remind herself of that a few more times and it would probably stick!

"If you insist. The offer stands." Rook shrugs one shoulder, a coy little smile tugging at one side of her lips. It certainly would not be the first time she's punched an man—certainly would not be the last. Her gut says to clock him HARD: make him spin like a candlehop. She herself loathes being told to be quite. Calm down. Watch yourself. Silence equates to obedience, in her mind's eye. And for someone to tell Bellara? Her friend? Someone akin to a younger sister she never had? To stop talking? It's a grave sin.

"You owe no one your silence. Cities are supposed to be loud. You can hear newspaper criers from all the way down the block: what's one more voice?"

[whencicatrized]

@theredconqueror “ you  don’t  have  to  worry  about  anything ,   as  long  as  i’m  around .  ”

Oh. Oh wow. That was sure a thing to say! Unfortunately, she isn't as smooth with her own words. "I'm actually a bit of a worrier so I don't think you can stop all the worrying. Like what if we're in the Crossroads and all the Eluvians break and I can't fix them from that side? What if we fall down a cliff and don't have enough supplies? What if, in the story I'm reading, the couple never finds each other again?" Despite the varying levels of importance, she lists each problem as if they were equal. "I'm also going to always be worrying if my friends are happy, if they're resting enough, if they're eating well - because honestly, have you seen how some of them eat when left to their own devices? It's bad. There's a reason Lucanis and I split the cooking duties after all." And that's when she realizes she's gotten very off topic, probably ruining the vibes he'd been hoping to achieve. "Sorry, that was a bit- I mean you had some sort of- it was very sweet! What you said! I just don't think it's very realistic?" Bel clapped her hands together firmly, stopping them from flailing around any more than they already had been while she'd rambled, offering a sheepish smile.

[whencicatrized]

Nodding along, Bel thinks she understands... until Merrill points out her own flaw and Bellara is back to being confused. "So you have to wait until you observe them knowing something that you know they know. Like being a detective! Gathering the evidence of how they act. So you just have to... to uh..." She trails off, hoping the other will give her more answers. "Ask them something they know?" With a heavy sigh she slumps down, head in her arms on the table. "This is hopeless. I study artifacts, not people!" In retrospect, Merrill also studied artifacts - so perhaps she wasn't exactly the best person to come to with this.

"how do you know that he doesn't know that you know that he knows that you know, you know?" / @whencicatrized ( bellara & merrill )

Merrill chuckles just below her breath as Bellara's words process. Only because she finds it so relatable how quick she is to speak the thoughts that pop into her mind. (It reminds her of a younger version of herself, only in the good ways of course. Bellara doesn't stumble over her thoughts as terribly as Merrill used to, though.) " Well you can only really know that he doesn't know that you know he knows you know if you really pay attention to how much it looks like he knows, you know? " she beams, matching the energy Bellara brings.

When she realizes what she has said though, she hums thoughtfully. " But it's hard knowing how much someone knows if you don't know what it looks like when they know things. Varric and Isabela were always much more talented at that than me. "

[whencicatrized]

Briefly - very briefly, she wants to stress - she thought Lucanis was being crass enough to imply staring at someone's chest. Mouth open and ready to argue, she catches herself just in time and deflates. "Oh. Right. Like their hands, the cute way their lips quirk up, the little freckles on their cheeks... that's good..." Once more she's writing her notes down as she thinks to hopefully catch them all before they fly away. "Am I- what? No! No, of course not! Do you think I could ever do that? I've rewritten the ends to a few serials Neve has brought me just because I couldn't stand to see them all so sad! No one is dying!" Now that was an interesting question. Bel takes a moment to think it over, pen tapping against her lips. "Well... yes and no? Not quite in the same manner. Originally everything was told orally. We used to think that we lost all our stories while enslaved, but now that we know more of the truth it seems more likely that things just... weren't written down much!" A few bits here and there, more pictures with brief descriptions that likely were expanded on by the speakers. "In fact, Irelin had the thought that the only things truly written down were the propaganda the Evanuris wanted spread. Which is how our stories got as twisted up as they did."

In his periphery, the hunched demon blinks at precise intervals to replicate the descriptions in the text, engrossed at how easily the story changes with the flick of the quill — little wonder Spite laments about the laws of physics when it could, once, change the space around it as easy as crossing words on parchment. "There's more to stare than each other's eyes." Yet, he cannot deny the captivating appeal. These windows to the soul so often carefully hidden serving as the centerpiece of the moment. His brows arch, the silence stretching before: "Are you writing a tragedy? Now I expect all of them to die." NO! One victor for the. Ending.

"Do elves of old partake in this?" Have the gods been enraptured by weekly publications distributed on cheap paper? Devastated by a cliffhanger? Odd, to wonder such things. Perhaps it would be stranger, still, to not consider it after all they've learned.

[whencicatrized]

@oneiricspun “   you  want  me  to  punch  him  in  the  face  ??   ”

"No!!" A pause, the thought is compelling, as much as she hates to admit it. "Well... you could I suppose - no! Wait, no, definitely do not punch anyone for my sake!" Besides, it wasn't even that bad - not really, not when it's something she's heard her whole life - just some guy kindly suggesting that she stop talking quite so much and so loudly. "I probably shouldn't even be that loud in cities. There's already so many people, so much noise, you know?"

[whencicatrized]

@winterfromtevinter “   it’s  okay  to  be  confused .   nobody  has  all  the  answers .   ”

There was logic to her words. It made perfect sense! It was something that, normally, Bellara would even agree with her on. And yet... "That's kind of my thing, though! I figure out the weird answers to the weird questions. Like you have your seeing clues, and putting them together, and solving mysteries, and being brilliant at everything... and I have my digging up answers about our past." Her hands fluttered about in front of her, unsure what to do without an object in them. "If I can't find the answers... then, well, what if maybe someone else does?"