rabidbacon

Pride and Prejudice [ rabidbacon and EweDoughNo ]

Before we proceed, are you okay with us RPing the fantastical racism of DA, or would you rather we not focus on that? @EweDoughNo

Pride and Prejudice [ rabidbacon and EweDoughNo ]

At a loss for what to do, Bertram looked about, dusted the dirt off of his pants, and started rooting around for firewood... despite the fact that he knew very little about how to start a fire. He supposed that dried things were good for fuel, and that sticks were rubbed together at some point, but in the end, all he'd gathered was a mix of twigs in varying sizes. He sat down and tried to rub and rub, to no avail. That failed, he then turned to his horse and looked out into the darkness.

"It's okay, Audra," he said, forcing some cheer into his voice. "I'll protect you. I'm Bertam Reinhardt, and you're my horse, and as long as you're by my side, you will be safe."

He gave the mare a gentle pat on the side of her neck, while his other hand now rested upon the pommel of his sword. It was long, and rather ornate in its shine - clearly that of a noble, untested and knowing little of the world's marauding ways. As if sensing the unease in her rider and erstwhile protector, the mare finally lifted her head and gave his fingers a reassuring nibble. Bertram smiled at the gesture, heedless of the peril for the moment, then returning to his woeful pile of sticks.

"Well... I have all night to try, I suppose," he whispered, rolling up his sleeves. "I'll get this lit in no time, you'll see."

It Came From the Sky

Honestly, anything. Rats could also be one, lmao.
Go wild, surprise me!

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

God, I hope I'm writing Cullen correctly... but a lot of his war table suggestions are just... "hey let's fight them" 🤣

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

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Cullen understood the distance in her words, though he failed to imagine how one could feel, operating the way she did. Even as he could no longer remember the names of every single man or woman in the Inquisitions forces, each face, each pair of eyes meant much to the Commander. He was responsible for them all, and each life lost weighed on him, even as he did his best to keep such sentiments from showing. It helped that he was curt with some, though his newfound stance towards mages still meant he was still learning patience with their lot.

"Making a martyr out of their leader isn't the best course of action," he replied, seeing her point. His eyes lingered on her face, surprised at how different she looked out here, than in his stuffy office. Hyacinth was in her element, under the cover of night, and he was utterly out of it. The man averted his gaze, choosing to park it at the statue as he cleared his mind of unnecessary information. "But complaints... they can turn into more. Much more." Cullen looked back at her, his scarred lip now setting into a thin, grim line. "I think someone is keeping stores of lyrium on hold somewhere, taking advantage of the situation to drive up the price. Profiteers of the worst kind," he said, his voice dipping into a dangerous growl. "We need to force their hand, as soon as we can."

The catastrophe of Kirkwall had branded the importance of swiftness and urgency into the Commander's very person, and he could not stand to watch idly by as a potential thorn in the Inquisition's side would metamorphose into a full-blown stake in the heart of the valiant movement to save all of Thedas.

"I know Leliana and our Ambassador's ways aren't mine... but there is a time for action. That time is now. If we cannot gather enough gold to meet the merchants' demands, then we must get our stores elsewhere."

Cullen knew that she would be able gather that he meant forcibly collecting supplies from those in alliance with the Inquisition, even as he did not say so outright. There was a war going on, and there was no place for hesitation if the very mages that voiced their discontent here could turn into an army of demons the next day.

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Alba winked at the Ambassador in a rather flirtatious manner, earning her an outraged gasp from the woman. No doubt it was played up to indicate complete disinterest on the noble's part; it was a game most Antivans and nobles of other nations were familiar with. Though the pirate was by no means a member of their hallowed flock, she could still play by the rules and break them in their faces, for she was not at all bound by such restrictions. No, the only thing she was bound by were the ropes around her wrist, and only in this unfortunate, temporary moment. That little amusement done, she then turned her full attention towards the Inquisitor, smiling as she spoke.

"My lady Inquisitor... with all respect, I was under the impression that I was to be judged for my alleged crimes at the tavern... of which I assure you, I am utterly innocent of," she said. Her words came slowly, in a sort of lazy drawl. "As I have said many times over, my friends and I were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and with the wrong sort." Alba shook her head and gave a disapproving sigh. "Why, I even lost my hat in the skirmish that followed. A shame that the woman died. Such a beauty deserves a far better end than to spend the last moments of life face down on a sticky tavern floor. My bed would have been far softer, you see," she remarked, smirking as she did. "That was the only reason I spoke to her, and in these intentions, I was fully clear. Unfortunately, she had other expectations, namely... my aid." Alba's words now picked up speed, wary of getting interrupted at the crucial point. "As I was about to help, the good Inquisitor and her brave friends happened to grace us all with their presence. Then all Void broke loose. And now, here we all are."

She shrugged and tilted her head, glancing at everyone, as if the story made perfect sense. It was the truth, after all.

"As for the... other allegations, well. A ship does not just appear out of thin air," said the pirate, scoffing as she did. "What I do is not so different from what the fishermen do, after all. We sail the seas in search of a catch, and sometimes, well... what a catch it is!" A low laugh rumbled through her as she explained. "But you have my word that we have never chanced upon any of your fleet. I heard you had none, actually, and it continues to surprise me. How can you save all of Thedas, if you cannot traverse the great seas?"

Her eyes widened with an abrupt awe as she spoke of the waters, enchanted by the mere thought of it. One would think Alba had spoken of a lover, the way she stared vacantly for a moment, before returning her focus to the trial for her life.

"If I am in any position to bargain, I ask that you spare my crew," she said. "They make for terrible cellmates. I should know; I've spent months with them all cooped up in a ship, and they have such ugly, dreadful voices. Not one can carry a decent tune!"

It Came From the Sky

I did imagine them to be long-time friends at this point, so feel free to think up a fun nickname for my guy! :D

It Came From the Sky

Sometimes, he'd been envious of Evalynn -growing up on his own wasn't very fun, and it pushed him to make more friends with animals than with people- but today wasn't one of those days. Her brothers were dreadful; if he were their brother, he would have left home ages ago. Then, he realized that Evalynn probably didn't have that choice. Girls who did that ended up rather poorly, at least that was what the village gossips and his mother said. He wondered how many rats he'd have to kill, if he had to help her hide away somewhere. The thought fluttered away soon enough, as the bobbing of the cart and the sound of Merlin's hooves against the dirt called him back to the present.

"Oh, when I just stand around, he gets a little more gentle on account of being bored," he laughed back, striving to find humor in his father's little rages. It was easier with her, and at least, it made her smile. "We should get our fathers in a match. Then they'll be too battered to give us trouble, isn't that right?"

The hours passed quickly, whenever they spoke, and it was always a delight to hear what she had to say. For the most part, Eldwic listened more than he spoke, but he didn't mind. There was something about the way Evalynn gave voice to her thoughts that reminded him of the deer or the foxes he watched. She always told the truth, or at least, Eldwic chose to believe she did.

He leapt off the wagon and put Larder in his large pouch, which was now free of the rats. Then, he proceeded to lead the way to the tavern... before slowing his pace and letting her lead instead. Eldwic didn't like how people stared to watch, when one opened the door to enter.

"He should be. My father's staying in because he hates the bard's songs," he replied, snorting in amusement as he spoke. "Says they're too sad. I don't know. I think those are the best kind. Aren't they, Evy?"

It Came From the Sky

@BunniesOfDoom I'll get a reply in soon!

Regalia

[Location] Harbor of Winds, Votara
[Time] Saturday, 04:30 PM
[Interactions] N/A

Aethalos looked back at the crowd and gave them a solemn nod. In response, each one of them made a gesture of reverence, hands drawing out the great serpent's symbol in the air, followed by Ramuh's bolts and Garuda's claws. The sight of it made Aethalos' skin crawl, still - it felt a blasphemy to not reprimand them, to not put her full focus into the godess of perfection, to stare straight and only at light of Ultima. All she could do was turn away. Unceasing winds whistled past her, lifting her hair into the breeze, setting each strand free. All she had to do was to let go, and jump.

Fear slithered into her body, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake, and Aethalos' breath hitched. It was a new emotion, one she was still learning to grapple with. Not so long ago, her body and soul focused only on the fervor of faith, her senses dulled or aroused only for its defense. Now, all her body could do was recoil at the memory of how far a body could fall and break, but still remain alive - a drowning welt of battered flesh, snapped bones and lungs screaming for oblivion.

In her ear, a voice crackled, ending the trance.

"If you don't give them a show, forget the booze," it said. "You're not supposed to have them, anyway."

A clenched fist was all Aethalos could manage; her words would be heard by all if she retorted. She took a few steps back, creating enough distance from the ledge to get a running start. Then, her feet pushed her onwards, boots stomping on the ground in a furious, ordered rhythm.

"Five. Four. Three. Two," she thought, counting down the steps to the sky with each strike of the foot. At one, she leapt. These faithless days, she wondered when the day of abandonment would come. The roar from within served as answer; Aethalos fell into the beast, rising within.

The crowds of worshippers would cheer as Leviathan coursed through the towers in a sinuous dance, a sheen of celestial blue showered upon all within this great city of Votara. The residue scattered and touched the citizens with an invigorating energy, much like how a drizzle upon parched leaves and wilting flowers restored them to life.

As they rejoiced, the great serpent wound about the Harbor, circling the treacherous spires that threatened to topple with one wrong turn, one careless whip of the head, that horned crown full of tethered dread. Those ancient eyes stared straight ahead, chasing after its tail in a cautious, ceaseless lap until the night permitted rest.

_{[Location] Aboard a Ship headed to the Port of Landow, Estren
[Time] Sunday, 05:00 AM
[Interactions] @Mirandae}

The sweet clink of glass against glass woke Aethalos up. Her foot nudged a green bottle, and as she sat up, so did more rattles break out around her as gravity brought them home. Empty, crushed cans of Apis energy drinks rolled into bottles of byra and Kastran spirits, the sounds soothing enough to coax a wry smile from the woman's tired face. As she went into the bathroom for a brisk shower, her eyes caught sight of the run rising through the porthole window in her cabin. It was strange to Aethalos, how the sun still felt equally distant whether she was upon the seas or up in the skies. Closing her eyes, she rid herself of much thought and concentrated upon the sensation of cold water upon her skin. Cetra's scars and Ultima's inked words remained, despite the bath, but in the darkness behind her eyelids, Aethalos could pretend that the waters washed them away. Just as she pretended the waters could mend all the flesh she had torn apart, all the blood she had spilled, in the name of good.

As she dried off, she grimaced at the blurry Knight-Penitent in the mirror. Aethalos dried off in a hurry after putting on her contacts, and then, in an orderly succession, she buttoned and fixed her shirt and pants, finishing with a tailored suit prepared just for the occassion. Her fingertips traced the dark, wave-like patterns sewn into the waterproof fabric, marvelling at the details made with such care, even if few would ever see them. She felt unworthy of such efforts. Nevertheless, she would try to look worthy, if that was what the people needed. Before she left the room, she gathered up all evidence of last night's mess in two garbage bags, and she left it in a corner as instructed, for someone to dispose of. These were things she couldn't be associated with, at least, according to her new benefactors. She ambled down the halls to seek out her assignment for the day; Aethalos picked up the pace as some early-risers aboard the ship watched her, making gestures of blessing and thanks as her glance passed their faces. She nodded at them, inwardly chastising herself. If she was on time, she was already late.

She was eventually guided to a room, where a team of stylists and make-up artists impressed upon her face and her hair who she was to be for the rest of the day. It never failed to feel strange to Aethalos, for most of her life, she had lived and served as a faceless being behind a thick helm, virtually indistinguishable from her brothers and sisters in arms. After they were satisfied with the work, she stared at the figure in the mirror. It took some effort to suppress a smile; Aethalos was not blind to the austere elegance of her eyes or the symmetry of her brows, but it felt childish to be pleased by such things. She thanked them with as much sincerity as she could muster, and she hoped that they felt it. After they left, an official from Estren briefed her on the day's expectations, and all but begged her to sign the document that forbade the Dominant forms. It was an understandable worry; one mistake, and the great serpent could level the whole town. Not to mention what the other Dominant forms could do. She gave him no trouble... though the thought of hemming and hawing at the waiver did amuse her, somewhat.

Now ready for the scrutiny of the public eye, Aethalos finally stepped off the docked Velos and onto dry, sandy land. A discreet security team followed behind her, pistols strapped to their thighs. A small crowd of Leviathan's devotees had already formed near the ship; it was expected of its Regalia to traverse the waters to meet them, after all. She hailed them with a wave and went to speak with them, though she kept her tight schedule in mind, and she managed to herd them together and shepherded the crowd to reach the offeratory service in an orderly fashion. Ceremonies to Gaia had already begun, and Aethalos' eyes caught sight of the young Regalia. She seemed to feel at home in her duties; Aethalos felt a small wistfulness at such a sight. How whole she must feel, thought Aethalos, as she took her place by the shrine. Her chest tightened with anguish as she placed an offering upon Ultima's shrine, even if she would rather not.

As was customary, Leviathan's followers prepared small glass bottles, which Aethalos filled with her own crystal-lined flask. Despite the length of the line, the cool water in her flask never seemed to run out, symbolizing the ceaseless renewal of life, and the sharing of it within a community. Seeing as there was still some time, Aethalos spoke with some of the devotees, and they went around the streets of Landrow, searching for thirsty strays whose poor throats were parched and in need of quenching. The children found the endeavor particularly engaging, and despite the Regalia's stern demeanor, they remained and even conversed at length with her, the latter answering their absurd questions with great seriousness.

A Very Belated Hello

@BunniesOfDoom there were a few really good ones, but the bad ones... 😨