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Sun Oct 12, 2014, 2:43 PM


It's back again! I think most of y'all know the drill, but just in case:

 Ze Rules:
 1 - For each of the first 15 people answering this journal, I will put their avatar and 3 deviations I like most from their gallery on the list.
2 - If you answer, you have to do the same in your journal, putting the tagger (me) on the first place.

1. :iconyuhime: Loving her whole gallery is a given, and picking just three is like pulling teeth, buuuut...
Templar by yuhime Alistair Theirin by yuhime Intruder by yuhime with honorable mentions to every single other Evarist piece, and the one of Alistair being badass fighting the desire demon in LJ.

2. :iconemedeme: Another hard one(okay, let's be real, that will be true of most--if not all--of the people on this list XD). 
Warden Carver by emedeme  Knights of the Steam Republic by emedeme  100DoN - Butterflies. by emedeme honorable mentions to all things 100DoN and every other time she's drawn my babies

3. :iconmaloneyberry: another harrrd choice....
DA2: Sebastian by Maloneyberry  ME2: Kaidan by Maloneyberry  SWTOR: Sith by Maloneyberry

4. :iconfreethegoats: *sigh* I tried to pick not-our-babies things, and largely failed. (sorrynotsorry... at least there's one that's different XD)
Rogues: Ilerion by freethegoats A little privacy by freethegoats  Armor design - Trinne by freethegoats

5. :iconkitiaramajere:
SWTOR: Just Another Job
Title: SWTOR: Just Another Job
Author: KitiaraMajere
Game: SWTOR
Characters/Pairing: Bounty Hunter/Sith Inquisitor (mention Malavai Quinn, Gault Rennow)
Disclaimer: Characters, etc. property of Bioware/EA, anything they get up to in these stories is entirely my fault.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The clear gray eyes were rather striking, Ke’phias thought. Not to mention the scarlet tattoo that wreathed the side of her face. And her features, while not what some would call pretty, were strong and, to his mind, more attractive than the soft beauty of a dancing slave. He watched as the woman moved across the bar with a relaxed yet purposeful stride.
An ungentle elbow to his ribs interrupted his analysis. “Hey boss, I realize part of your allure is your overabundance of bravado, but doncha think that eyeing a Sith like that crosses the line into foolhardiness?”
Keph grinned, throwing a wink at Gault. “They still have nee
  Nothing left to lose(A short look at a possible event in Anders' past.)
Anders stood by the window embrasure, but for once his favorite view of the world outside didn't even draw a glance. All he could see was her laughing smile, her eyes sparkling with glee as she urged him along to another escapade. A corner of his mouth lifted a little as he remembered the practical jokes they'd played on instructors, or their quick, explosive trysts in hidden corners. And always, her smile.
There had been one time he had seen her without a smile. One time they had actually managed to spend the whole night together, in a forgotten storeroom. Instead of going their separate ways after sex, they had talked. He had told her things he had never told anyone else, about his family, his dreams. She had sat up, unconcerned with her nakedness as she reached out to cup his cheek. Her seriousness made him nervous as she stared at him unblinkingly. "Never let them see the real you, Anders. They'll use it to control you."
He had gr
Entwined Destinies----------------------
Entwined Destinies
Universe/characters: PotC, James Norrington
Author: KitiaraMajere
----------------------
"Think about it: The Black Pearl. The last real pirate threat in the Caribbean, mate. How can you pass that up?"
"By remembering that I serve others, Mr. Sparrow, not only myself." ―Jack Sparrow and James Norrington
"James Norrington. What has the world done to you?"
"Nothing I didn't deserve." ―Elizabeth Swann and James Norrington

Cold. So cold.
He had thought that steel was cold, but the blade that pierced his chest was hot. His lungs were on fire and he couldn't seem to draw a breath. The rest of him, though, was cold. Cold as the chill of the deep sea.
Even as he fell, his eyes searched for her. He'd seen her expression, when she realized what he meant to do. He had seen the horror, and the denial. But he had planned well, cut off all her options but the one he wanted. She was safe, that was all that mattered.  He had watched that fac


6. :iconrihouston: Gallery full of hot BioWare men made this a ridiculously difficult decision ;P

The War Room by RiHouston  My Favorite Flyboys by RiHouston  Don't Leave Me by RiHouston
 

  • Watching: David Tennat/Catherine Tate Much Ado About Nothing
  • Drinking: Peach Mango tea
Title: Bite My Tongue
Author: FyreQueen89
Game: Dragon Age Origins
Characters/Pairings: f!Cousland, Alistair, brief appearance by Leliana, Jowan, and Wynne (one sided Alistair/f!Cousland)
Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all its characters/locations belong to BioWare and not me. I'm just a fan who loves to write and play with their world.
--------------------------------------------------



In hindsight, it was the day that convinced her he could be a good king.

In the moment itself, it was rather more annoying than anything else.

"Marta, are you crazy? This is too big a risk." Alistair grabbed her arm to slow the rogue's rapid stride across the Orzammar Commons.

"I don't have any other choice," Marta shot back, tugging her arm free, Alistair's fingers sliding over smooth black leather. "If Bhelen's man either had to or chose to resort to forgery in order to undermine Harrowmont, that is not the sort of person I want to be supporting." She resumed her path, quickly mounting the steps and heading down the bridge to the Proving Grounds. "I cannot bite my tongue and tolerate that. I won't."

"But fighting? Marta, what if you get hurt? Bad, I mean," the blond persisted, not looking any happier with the situation than he had a minute ago.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing," she riposted lightly. "You've been watching me fight for going on a year now. Do you honestly think I can't win this?"

"I never said that!" Alistair protested. "I'm worried about you getting hurt, not you losing. They're not mutually exclusive, y'know." He rushed his next couple steps to beat her to the door, leaning against it so he could look her in the eyes. "You're the leader. What happens if one of your opponents gets in a lucky blow? We'll be stuck--"

"We have Wynne," Marta cut him off, crossing her arms and indulging his concerns. "And, worse case scenario, if I still need rest to heal, you can always lead."

That shut him up. The warrior opened his mouth, closed it, and stepped out of the way with a sigh. The absence of immediate--vehement--protest in regard to his leadership abilities, or lack thereof, caught her attention, and Marta filed it away for future reference.

>>|<<

Convincing Harrowmont's fighters to rejoin the Proving was far easier than she'd expected. Gwiddon had simply been "misinformed"--probably by that bastard Gavorn--that Harrowmont was conceding the throne to Bhelen. It wasn't hard to convince him that wasn't true.

Baizyl's situation was only slightly more difficult to resolve; a pair of Bhelen's fighters were blackmailing him with love letters that proved an affair with a married woman of higher caste. His love for the woman became a weapon against him, the threat of her ruined reputation his impetus for withdrawing.

The Myaja person who held held the letters was either inexperienced with blackmail, or arrogant enough to believe no one would dare attempt to retrieve them. Her chambers weren't locked, and the letters were easily found atop the other belongings in her storage locker.

With both Baizyl and Gwiddon back in the listing, Marta allowed herself a small pat on the back as she sought the Provings Master to get things underway.

The well-dressed dwarf cocked an eyebrow as she approached. "So you're Harrowmont's champion?"

"I am indeed," the noble confirmed, brushing a wisp of hair back toward her bun.

"Wait. Marta, a word?" Alistair whispered in her ear.

Praying for patience and gesturing 'one moment' to the dwarf, Marta followed her fellow Warden aside. "What, Alistair?"

"Let me fight," the warrior suggested. "Everyone here knows I'm also a Grey Warden, so wouldn't you allowing me to fight achieve the same thing?"

She shook her head. "It has to be me."

"But why?!" Alistair demanded.

"Alistair, I was raised among politics that were not entirely dissimilar to the one here. I am the leader. I was seen talking to Gavorn, a known sycophant of Prince Bhelen's. If I want to see Lord Harrowmont, I have to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I personally am not working in collusion with the prince." She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I appreciate the offer, and the concern for my well-being, but I have to do this."  She had other reasons--not risking the potential king of Ferelden chief among them--but Alistair didn't need to know them all.

"I just... don't want you to get hurt..." the blond muttered.

"I know. I won't," Marta assured him, smiling briefly before returning to the Provings Master. "My apologies, good ser. I'm ready to start now."

>>|<<

"...The winner is--the Grey Warden!"

Alistair was fairly certain his relief was plain enough he may as well have tattooed it across his face. He breathed a short prayer of thanks as Marta headed for the exit from the arena floor. He knew it was silly to worry, that she could more than handle herself in one on one combat, but his heart still dropped to his toes at every clang of steel on steel. Watching was torture. But not watching was even worse.

When she emerged from the fighter's tunnel and quirked him yet another reassuring smile, he was happy to see she remained unscathed, just a little tired.

The Provings Master appeared in the doorway. "You are doing magnificently, Grey Warden," he congratulated Marta enthusiastically. "I don't believe we've had a show this good in months."

A kaleidoscope of all Marta's close calls over the last half hour rushed through Alistair's brain. And this was just a good show to these people?

She sent him a warning look--probably sensing his impending outburst--and smiled graciously at the dwarf. "Thank you kindly. But I have a feeling offering me congratulations was not your only reason for this visit?"

The grey-bearded dwarf chuckled. "Astute as you are fierce, I see. Yes, I came to inform you the next round will be paired combat. You may choose your second from among your companions, or another from House Harrowmont's roster."

"Thank you," she nodded, and the Provings Master departed.

"Marta."

"I'll think about it Alistair," she replied calmly.

"Think about--" he sighed in exasperation. "Marta. What's there to think about?!"

"If I call on you as my second, it solidifies Grey Warden--the order as a whole, not me individually--support for Harrowmont. And since dwarves are resistant to magic, a mage is no good.... I don't know the fighting styles of the Harrowmont roster, but it might be worth the risk to quash any doubts he has about meeting me..."

"You are such a politician," Alistair couldn't help chuckling. "Just how long has this been second nature to you?"

"Since I was twelve," she winked, checking her weapons before heading back out to the arena. "Mother made sure of that."

"Marta." He caught her wrist. "Please. We're as good as invincible together, and you know it."

"I'll think about it," she repeated, turning her hand in his to give it a squeeze. "Trust me."

I do. But we still need you. And it would kill me to watch you get hurt. But he bit his tongue and didn't say another word.

>>|<<

Marta stood in the arena, eyeing the carved mosaics that decorated the walls as she tried to figure the best choice for her second. Sometimes, the drummed-in ability to see both sides of every choice was a damned nuisance. Like now.

Alistair had a point, and she knew it. The two of them as a team may as well be invincible. But she desperately needed Harrowmont to realize she was on his side. Thomas, help. She sighed. He wasn't going to answer. The Maker probably wouldn't, either. This was all on her.

So she took a deep breath and picked. Alistair might give her grief, but he was her best friend, not her nanny. "In support of Lord Harrowmont, I choose Baizyl as my second."  The dark-skinned dwarf emerged from the tunnel and the two of them faced off against their opponents.

What followed in the course of narrowly achieving victory was a rapid and painful lesson for the young noble: Not all fighters who chose sword and shield fought the same way. Fergus and Alistair's styles were similar enough she'd just assumed that was true of everyone who chose that discipline. And if you added in the fact she lacked the near-telepathic bond she and Alistair shared, well, it was a wonder her badly bruised shoulder was the worst of her problems.

Alistair's eyes said I told you so even if he was too sweet to let the words pass his lips. He held her weapons without complaint as Leliana helped her enough out of her armor to rub numbing salve on the bruise.

"Ow!" Marta yelped as the redhead massaged the salve into her skin.

"I'd never've let this happen," Alistair muttered, barely loud enough to hear.

"Alistair," she groaned, warning note in the intonation.

"No, I'm serious. Baizyl didn't know your fighting style like I do, that's why he left you open to attack."

Marta bit her tongue to keep from snapping back with something sarcastic. That wouldn't help matters. "Well, we still won. And, honestly, I've had far worse damage done to me."

"Don't remind me," the warrior mumbled.

"There. All done." Leliana straightened and helped Marta set her armor right.

"Thank you," Marta nodded, rolling her shoulder to test its range of motion, and then paced to where Alistair stood. "Don't worry; there's only one more match and then we're done." She lifted her sword and axe from his grasp. "Just one more match."

He still didn't so much as smile.

"Alright, Alistair, I only have a minute, but why don't you try to explain to me why this is so  much harder for you than all the fighting we've done since we met at Ostagar?" She raised an eyebrow. 

"Because..." He sighed. "Because I can't protect you out there! And Maker, I know you don't need it, but I hate not being able to watch your back."

She blinked at the vehemence and cracked a faint smile. "Well, then. You're in luck: the last fight is apparently full squads. So this time, when I really need you--" she rubbed her shoulder-- "you can watch my back."

His face lit with boyish delight as she turned and headed for the fighter's tunnel.

>>|<<

This fight was far more brutal than the others had been. Bhelen's cousin was hellbent on victory, and Marta was fairly certain he wouldn't lose any sleep if he or his henchmen "accidentally" maimed or killed one of them. She watched Jowan duck sideways, narrowly dodging a crossbow quarrel that would've hit entirely too high on his shoulder for comfort.

"Warden!" Leliana shouted in warning, and Marta dropped and rolled, feeling the breeze of the Aeducan's battleaxe ruffle her hair.

That was too close. Apparently, Alistair agreed with her, as he moved to place himself between her and the dwarven warrior. She completed her roll, seamlessly coming to her feet behind her fellow Warden to watch his back.

This brought her into a face-off with Aeducan's second, a snarling fellow with dark eyes and wicked blades. She did her best to hold him off, but her shoulder was beginning to weaken again, a fact the dwarf quickly noticed and exploited. Even as the rest of his unit succumbed to her companions' superior skill, the second batted away her defending strikes and took advantage of her momentary vulnerability. His first blow opened her side; shearing through her chain mail as if it were threadbare cotton. The pain was instant, deep and searing, and Marta went to her knees, biting off a cry of pain into a strangled hiss.

It was still enough, and Alistair whirled in alarm--just in time to watch the dwarf's second strike lay open her shoulder, splitting the black leather practically from the pauldron to the center of her chest.

And Marta got to watch his face, see the pain and the terror that flew through his eyes before they hardened and he bellowed a war cry. His shield slammed hard into the dwarf's chest, landing the last of their opponents flat on his back, unmoving after the stunning impact that bore him to the ground.

Marta struggled back to her feet, wounds pulsing agony. Say it. Hurry. Before I pass out...

"The winner is... the Grey Warden!" the Provings Masters announced, and the stands erupted in cheers. It had been a good fight, she did have to concede that much. So she half-heartedly raised her axe to the crowd before shuffling toward the exit tunnel.

One foot in front of the other...

"Marta!" Alistair's voice echoed dully.

Keep moving, just keep moving...

Footsteps sounded behind her as the others rushed to catch up. The tunnel door had barely closed behind them when Marta's knees gave out and she stumbled, groping at the wall for support but missing.

Alistair swore as he lunged forward to catch her. "Leliana, go find Wynne!"

"Alistair-"

"Now!" the warrior barked, gathering Marta in his arms like a child. The redhead bolted as Alistair hurried for the fighter's quarters Marta had been allotted. "Stay with me, Mar."

"'M not goin' anywhere..." she mumbled, singly focused on not passing out. "Owww..." The jostling of Alistair's pace was grinding the chain links into her opened side. Fortunately, she only had to endure a few more seconds before they reached her quarters, her head lolling against his breastplate. 

"Where do you want to be?" he asked as they passed the threshold.

"Table," she managed. "And then help--ah!--help me out of my armor."

He blushed slightly but complied, shucking his gauntlets and tossing them in the general direction of the room's chair first.

It hurt like the bloody Void peeling the armor away from the wounds, and the animalistic screech that tore from the rogue's lips gave testament to that. "By all the holy saints and martyrs...!"

"Marta..." Alistair stared at her shoulder as the armor came away.

She mustered a faint smile, feeling the wound's edges with her fingertips. "It's... only a scratch..."

"A scratch?!" He looked at her as if he feared blood loss messing with her head. "The bastard nearly took your arm clean off!"

"Actually, with this angle, it prob'ly would have been my head..."

>>|<<

He shot her a flat look, pressing one hand against the wound. "Not funny. Where the blazes is Wynne?!" A growl of frustration, and then he glanced over at the dark haired mage trying to stay as much out of the way as possible. "She teach you anything about healing?"

Jowan shook his head, eyes full of regret. "I mean, she tried. I'm just... not very good at the spells. And especially with something like that."

Marta must've sensed him about to lay into the mage, because she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Alistair. She'll... be here soon."

He hated seeing her in so much pain. It made him ache to scoop her in his arms and kiss it better. But he couldn't. For reasons beyond the mere physical impossibility of such an act.

So he bit his tongue again and let her squeeze his hand until Wynne arrived to make it better.

>>|<<

"Well, you certainly are lucky, dear," Wynne commented. "These are serious. It is a good thing Leliana found me so quickly."

"Just fix it," Marta pleaded, as stars invaded her field of vision once more.

"Of course." The mage rested one hand lightly against the gash in the rogue's side and began murmuring the words of a spell. As the pale blue light around her hand flared, Marta could feel the skin knitting back together, the pain easing. There wasn't even a scar left. Her death grip on Alistair's hand eased slightly, pained tension bleeding out of her posture.

The wound in her shoulder proved a bit trickier, and a faint scar remained just below her collarbone, but finally all was well. Except for one thing.

"Well, my armor is a total loss..." Marta grumbled, glaring at the ruined leather and chain.

"We can find you new armor," Alistair pointed out, relief plain in his voice still as he joked, "I'm just glad I'm not going to have to lead."

She rolled her eyes. "Y'know, I seem to recall you saying something to the effect you wouldn't have allowed me to be injured..."

"And I seem to recall you saying you wouldn't get hurt," the warrior retorted, grinning impishly at her.

"Apparently, we both need to learn to bite our tongues," Marta conceded with a laugh.

"Only sometimes. I'm still going to tell you when I think you're risking too much."

"That's fair. And I'm still going to insist you would make a good king."

"One throne at a time, Marta," Alistair deflected, grinning at her. "Let's take care of Orzammar first."

"You have a deal," she agreed. But she did not intend to drop this forever. Between his compassion, tenacity, and the lengths he was willing to go to fulfill his role as protector, she was more convinced than ever that he would be a good king. For now, however, he was right; they needed to settle Orzammar's throne first.

So she dug out a fresh set of clothes and prepared to meet with Lord Harrowmont, hoping they could settle this quickly.
Bite My Tongue
She, She is the words that I can't find 
How can the only thing that's killing me make me feel so alive?
~Parachute "She(for Liz)"

My muses apparently excel at churning out fics when I make a different than usual choice. Or when there's emotional turmoil. xD Maybe it's a subconscious need to explain myself, or maybe I'll just take any excuse to write my babies, I dunno. When it came to Orzammar, Marta informed me in no uncertain terms that she would not support Bhelen. Especially once--in her habit of talking to every npc about everything she could to better understand the lay of the political land--she found out about the notes being forgery. While she knows politics can sometimes be unsavory, she still holds that integrity and honesty are important. Knowing what I know about Harrowmont as king, it was very hard to stick to it, but I am roleplaying her, which means making choices that I wouldn't necessarily make. 

But then, of course, as I was writing it, the tone morphed away from explaining Marta's reasons for supporting Harrowmont and toward illuminating her relationship with Alistair(hence the song lyrics). Which has wound up oh-so-complicated as the game's progressed. OOPS. Marta still loves Thomas at this point, and considers Alistair her best friend/confidante, however(and there's always a however xD), Alistair's puppy-love crush from when he gave her the rose has not only stuck around, it's grown.  He's now pretty much full-fledged in love with her, which is killing him because he knows he can't have her, and he does his best to hide it because he knows she doesn't care for him like that and wants to respect her wishes. WHY do my playthroughs always wind up resembling soap operas?! XDDDD (What makes this even more killer for my heart is I know Alistair is exactly the kind of guy Marta would fall for if she was available)I think this is an outlet for all the emotional trauma my shows are causing me this season

Ooh, and if anyone spots the movie references, you get a cookie. There's two of them, older movies, and one is more vague than the other because of how I had to rework dialogue.

Also 500th deviation. YAY ME Give us a yay contest entry by BurgerBunny


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The red haired woman introduced herself as lay sister Leliana of the Lothering Chantry -and surprise, surprise, there was a specific reason hiding behind her aid, beyond simple altruism.

"Those men said you're a Grey Warden? You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do?" Her eyes shone as she spoke to Trinne, with eagerness  that stumped Harvey. She sounded so excited, he was on a verge of telling her the job was grossly overrated. Not quite as upstanding as the old stories would like you to think.

But Sister Leliana had never faced Darkspawn before, so her next words came easy: "I know after what happened you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along."

"Glad to hear we have any say in it!" Amell's tone remained within the borders of politeness, even while dripping with sarcasm. Harvey wondered if she regretted not being able to deny their affiliation with the Wardens, but after her earlier outburst it would never work. "Why would you even want to join us, it's not fun and games ya' know. Not that we're in a position to refuse help, but..."

"The Maker told me to join you!” the woman blurted out.

Strange, how a few words spoken in a particular order could sow such deep, uncomfortable silence. It lasted five seconds, resting heavy, and then became quite unbearable as it reached eight and counting.

The mage was speechless, her left eye twitching.

Andraste's dirty socks, she broke her.

"I...think that's our cue to leave.” It was Alistair who broke the spell, his tone a mix of jest and uncertainty. The attempt was admirable, but the joke fell flat as red flags were flapping in all of their heads already. There were certain individuals who could cause more trouble than it was worth, and Sister Leliana was on a verge of joining their ranks.

Trinne snapped out of her daze, and nodded sharply in agreement, her face almost relieved. "Yes, I think we are done here. But we really do appreciate your help Sister, really," she assured the young woman.

"I...I know that sounds...absolutely insane-–but it's true! I had a dream...a vision!"

Harvey suddenly wished someone would stop Sister Leliana from digging her hole. What was at first strange, now was quickly becoming painful.

Alistair shook his head. "More crazy? I thought we were full up."

"They say only crazy people don't know they're crazy." Harvey retorted quietly, a bit against himself, because he too felt the further they get away from here, the better.

"So she's like...half crazy, then?" the warrior wondered.

The rogue shrugged, undecided.

"Come on guys, let's go." Trinne hurried them up.

"Wait!" the girl called after them, sheer desperation on her face. She looked around, as if searching for something, anything that would act as leverage. Harvey's gaze fell on the corpses. Oh no. Templars would be there in a matter of minutes, and Sister Leliana was the only credible witness.

Who are they going to believe, a couple of wanted people, because that's what we are, or a lay Sister of the Chantry, whom they probably knew? He cursed internally. Here it goes.

But it didn't go, not in the direction of blackmail anyway, catching him completely off guard. "Look at the people around you. They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos...will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. What you do, what you are meant to do, is the Maker's work. Let me help!" she pleaded.

Alistair glanced in Harvey's direction. "You suddenly got red," he mouthed.

Yes, from embarrassment. When did he get so bitter as to suspect foul play on a whim? She wasn't even a member of the clergy, not really--maybe a bit overzealous in her belief, but that was that. She most likely didn't have bad intentions...even if there was a few tiles missing from the roof.

And maybe that's why they were even still talking to her. Trinne finally groaned. "Look, even if you go with us, we've got little need for midday sermons!"

The readhead was prepared for this particular argument. "I can fight. I can do more than fight. I was not always a lay sister--I put aside that life when I came here, but if it is Maker's will, I will take it up again. Gladly. Please let me help you.” 

What happened then was a three ways look between Amell, Alistair and himself. The templar just sighed as the rogue gave them both a small shrug. It wasn't a lifetime sentence...and if she gave them any trouble, they could always part ways later. 

Trinne rubbed her temples. "Fine, you can join. On probation," she hastily warned. 

"Thank you! I appreciate being given this chance. I will not let you down," Leliana beamed.

"Well, welcome to our little 'save the world' team, then. Trinne Amell," the mage introduced herself. "These two are Alistair and Cousland, and I guess they can tell you the details themselves, if you ask them. Or at least Alistair will. The second one is a bit of a grump."

Alistair gave a little wave, and Harvey said nothing.

"Aaand I see we are one member short, where's Morrigan?"

The rogue nodded in the general direction of the campfire. "She's minding the food." He wanted to say 'was preparing', but that would probably be a stretch.

"Good, I think we are all starving." Trinne started walking, while the rest of the group followed. "We need to plan what to do next, since Lothering's hospitality is running out." She made a face. "Shame about the qunari though."

It sounded strange without additional context, but before Harvey could even begin to imagine the meaning behind her words, the mage's eyes widened in sudden revelation.  

"You, you can help!" she turned to the rogue, excited.

What kind of mental shortcuts she was treading to end up looking at him like he was a solution to all her current problems was beyond Harvey. "With Qunari?" he asked dumbly. She had to backtrack her story a bit. Preferably to the beginning.

The mage briefly explained what she had meant, about her idea and what happened when they approached the Revered Mother in the Chantry, but the rogue was still lost to his own role in this.

"Don't you see?" Amell explained. "You are a noble, can't you just persuade her to let you take the prisoner under your jurisdiction? You're the son of a Teyrn, it has to mean something to her!"

The train of thought might've made sense under certain conditions, Harvey supposed. He wasn't going to enjoy bursting her bubble, even if Amell's naivety resulted from sheltered life in the Circle. Nobles had first say when it came to the fate of criminals,  even before the Chantry. The fact that a Mother was the one responsible for exacting this particular punishment, could only mean that...

"She's going to shield herself with the absence of the local bann. It's him I'd have to talk to make that deal. And if he's not here, it means he's either fighting in the field, or dead. We can't wait for him."

"Damn." As quickly as it sparked, her excitement withered into disappointment. The mage kicked a nearby pebble, causing it to bounce off of a larger rock and disappear into the grass.

Harvey wasn't sure why he was still babbling. "If we were in the Coastlands, then maybe, but..."  If he had a Cousland seal, or some kind of official document...still, bringing that up wouldn't do any good. He wasn't being in any way helpful.

"Well, if she doesn't recognize Grey Warden authority during the Blight, I'm not sure she'd listen to anybody." Alistair chimed in.

Trinne sighed. "I guess. It's really a shame, though. We could've found a better use for him than wasting in that cage." 

As much as Harvey was torn at the thought of traveling with a criminal, he had to admit she was probably right. Plus, it was cruel, foremost. It depended on an individual style of governing, but you rarely saw this kind of punishment dealt in Highever. If the criminal deserved death, he at least received it quickly. 

"I...think I could help you with that." Sister Leliana, who up till now has been trailing behind, was wearing a thoughtful expression.

"You could?" Trinne perked up, with a hint of disbelief.

Leliana mused, "Mother Euridice is...hard-headed in her decisions, but not unreasonable. I'm sure she would see the opportunity for doing Maker's work. He sometimes chooses the most unlikely of agents."

Harvey tilted his head. Like you?

"Well, that's what I told her!" Trinne groaned in exasperation. Harvey could see Alistair making the 'more or less' gesture with his hand as she did so. "But noo, she won't let him go without any supervision," she huffed.

"That's where I come in, no?" Leliana gave her a mischievous smile.

You contrive quite well, Sister. Harvey congratulated the young woman quietly. He couldn't say he was very much impressed, because the opportunity presented itself way too easily, but she didn't hesitate to grab it nonetheless, making a favor into her personal rite of initiation. Messages received from higher powers aside, she might actually be an asset.

"I think we got off from a wrong foot. I like you already!" The mage grinned. "Chantry it is!" she announced, changing directions abruptly.

The noble didn't follow.

"Cousland, aren't you coming? Or are you afraid you're melt upon crossing the chantry's premise?” Trinne waved her hand, Alistair chuckled, and Leliana gave him a weird look. "Come on, this ought to be good."

Harvey shook his head. The reason was far more mundane. "There will be six of us, if this works, and only two rabbits to share, I doubt it's enough. The inn ought to have some food...unless there already is a shortage..." he wondered aloud. Does anyone know how much qunari eat?

Leliana shook her head. "Lothering is still well supplied in this regard. Provisions are more expensive maybe, but everything has been lately."

Trinne nonchalantly tossed a satchel full of coin in his direction. He caught it. "Surprise us. I think after the last few days we all deserve a good meal. And ale," she added as an afterthought. "I always wanted to taste dwarven ale. Ask if they have any."

He doubted that was the case, but still nodded his head.

"Morrigan is that way?" the mage pointed to make sure.

"Pass the last cottages, and then fifty yards to the right," he confirmed.

And then they went their separate ways.

>>X<<

"So I assume you have a plan for dealing with the Revered Mother's stubbornness?" Trinne probed as they approached the chantry once more.

Leliana smiled innocently. "I'm going to say please."

The mage snorted, raking one hand through her hair. "Good luck with that."

"Oh, trust me," the redhead replied, still smiling, "I can be very persuasive."

Trinne raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"After all, you let me join you, no?"

Drat. Point for the Sister, Trinne conceded mentally as Alistair hauled open the large wooden door.

"Ladies first," he bowed.

Leliana giggle. "Why thank you, kind ser."

Something irrational tightened in Trinne's chest and she shook it off irritably. "Let's get this over with. The woman doesn't much like me, and frankly, the feeling's mutual."

"Leave the talking to me," Leliana admonished, brushing primly at the blood spot freckling her robe. "She'll be more receptive of me making the request."

"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise," Trinne muttered, dropping back so Leliana was the first one through the doorway.

"Ah, Sister Leliana," the Revered Mother greeted her cheerfully enough. "How are you on this fine day?"

"I am quite well, Your Reverence," Leliana replied, inclining her head respectfully. "If you have a moment, I needed to discuss something rather important."

"Of course, my dear." The Revered Mother's gaze caught Trinne and Alistair hanging back near the doorway and she scowled. "Have they roped you into pleading their case, Leliana? You need not assist everyone who begs for your aid."

"I offered to ask, Your Reverence," the redhead corrected, tone still even under the older woman's remonstrance. "I believe their cause is a righteous one. One the Maker would see us aid, no? Why else-"

One hand rose abruptly, followed by the woman herself. "Sister Leliana, I believe in your vision. And I admire your passion to do the Maker's will. But what assurance do you have to offer that freeing that... monster is indeed the Maker's will, and not the misguided zeal of traitors?"

Alistair's hand latched onto Trinne's arm and squeezed ever so slightly before she even opened her mouth.

"These are... desperate and dangerous days, Your Reverence," Leliana began carefully."I believe that with us--" she placed less than subtle emphasis on the word--"the qunari could make a difference. He could help. Quite a lot. And we can keep him from repeating the massacre at the farmhouse. Please."

The Revered Mother deliberated for a painfully long moment before nodding. "Very well." She crossed to the desk and slipped a key from the top drawer, handing it to the redhead. "I trust your judgment, Sister. Do not give me cause to regret it."

"Thank you, Your Reverence. You won't." Leliana turned and gave Trinne a triumphant smile as they headed out the door. "Here you go." She handed over the key.

"Gotta say, I'm impressed," Trinne admitted as she took it. "Nice work."

"You are too kind," the redhead demurred. "Now, if I am to join you, is it possible you have something... more suitable for me to wear? It doesn't seem practical for me to go into battle wearing this."

The mage winced in chagrin. "We sold everything we weren't usin' to buy food... an' stuff." She picked guiltily at one sleeve. "I dunno how much we have left..."

Alistair worked a coin purse free of his belt and peered inside. "I think there's enough in here for some half-decent leathers. Hopefully." He glanced at Trinne, waiting for her nod of assent before handing it over to the redhead. "D'you want us to wait for you?"

Leliana shook her head. "No need. I know the place where you will be heading. I shall join you shortly."

"Suit yourself," Trinne shrugged. "Don't be too long, or we'll have to send a search party."

"Of course," the redhead nodded. She split off as they left the chantry, heading for the merchant's cart.

"I don't get her," Trinne muttered, idly picking at a loose thread on her tunic.

"Whaddya mean?" Alistair raised an eyebrow as they walked back toward the caged qunari. "She seems sincere about helping us. And she can definitely handle herself in a fight."

"I... I dunno. With all her talk about having a vision, and the Maker wanting her to help us... She just seems sort of... off. Like she's a few books shy of a library, or an archdemon short of a Blight."

He shot her a marginally amused look. "Okay, first of all, not funny. Second, even if you're right, she's more 'ooh, pretty colors' than 'I am Princess Stabbity, muahahaha stab-kill-kill'."

Trinne laughed. "Princess Stabbity? Have I mentioned yet that you're really strange, ser ex-not-quite-templar?"

"Hey, you got it right," he joked, lightly bumping his shoulder against hers.

She made a face and bumped back. "I'll prob'ly still call ya Pretty Boy a lot. It's easier to say."

"Lovely. My dream come true," Alistair deadpanned, which made her giggle even harder.

>>X<<

They stopped at the cage and released Sten, much to the qunari's surprise. He admitted to not thinking the Revered Mother would part with the key.

"You just gotta know the right people," Trinne shrugged, sensing Alistair's eyeroll behind her back. "Speaking of people, we need to meet up with the rest of ours." And where the blazes is my dog...

Sten grunted in what sounded like displeasure, but followed. Fortunately, between Cousland's directions and the thin plume of smoke trailing upward from the fire, the meeting place wasn't terribly hard to find. Even more fortuitously, Dane was there, flopped spread-eagle next to Frida. Both dogs wagged their tails as the mage approached, Dane letting out a small whine of joy.

Morrigan looked up at the noise. "Ah, and here you are at last. Though you appear to have traded the Cousland boy for this giant?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Nah, Cousland's buying more food. He figured with two new people we'd need more than what we already had."

The witch bristled ever so slightly. "I cannot be held responsible for that. 'Tis only thanks to me we have anything in the first place."

Trinne held up a hand. "Whoa, sheath your claws. You're not one of the new people. This is Sten--" she gestured to the qunari-- "and Leliana went to buy leathers. They're the new people. Cousland was pretty sure two rabbits wouldn't feed six of us. Not to mention the dogs'll need to eat, too."

Morrigan waved her off. "I don't suppose, in the process of your... recruitment drive you managed to stumble across more coin, hm? Because if your fellow Warden is buying food, and one of your new friends is acquiring armor, I do not foresee us having an overabundance of wealth when they return."

"Don't be such a sourpuss," Trinne admonished. "We didn't find sacks of unclaimed riches laying around for the taking, but there were some job postings on the chanters' board. Killin' bandits and bears shouldn't be too hard, right?"

"Most bandits around here are going to be hard men, driven even harder by desperation," Alistair warned her. "It might be tougher than you think. Besides, shouldn't we at least wait for Harvey and Leliana to join us and decide as a group what to do next?"

"Oh, fine," the mage sighed. He did sort of have a point. "Oh, look, here comes Cousland."

Sure enough, the dark haired rogue was making his way toward them, one hand gripping a sack of provisions, the other twined in the strap of a good sized drinking flask.

"No dwarven ale, sorry," he informed Trinne with an apologetic shrug. "We have to make do with water."

"Damn. Oh, well. One of our treaties is with the dwarves, so I'll get to try it at some point in this adventure. For now, let's eat. I'm starving."

"Told you," Alistair whispered, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

>>X<<

They talked as they ate, discussing what they should do next, asking Leliana's opinion when the redhead joined them a few minutes later.

To her extreme surprise--shock, really--Trinne found Cousland agreed with her; that doing these jobs was worth the risk and the delay because they needed coin now. They didn't even have enough to buy Sten armor.  Alistair and Leliana were both antsy to get going so they could work on ending the Blight, Morrigan saw no point in solving more "petty villager problems of no real consequence", and Sten refused to express any opinion whatsoever.

"Ya know what? We're getting nowhere with this. Bottom line, we need money. Sten still needs armor, not to mention a sword, and we'll have to buy food along the way or we won't even make it to our first destination. We're doing at least a couple of these jobs," Trinne decided.

No one argued. And when it was all said and done--and they had added a sovereign's worth of silver to the purse--no one complained, either. They'd even gotten lucky enough to get Sten outfitted--one bandit group was led by a qunari mercenary. Who Leliana had dispatched with a single arrow. His chainmail wasn't particularly high quality, but they weren't in a position to be choosy.

Finally, with everything they could do in Lothering accomplished, Trinne led the way toward the Imperial Highway. Right then, let's go save the world...

The chittering vertigo of darkspawn presence slammed into her like a stonefist to the gut.

"Help! Help us!"

Oh, that can't be good.

Of Wardens and Pariahs ch21--Please
Behold, the next chapter! Roughly inside a month, I think. Yay us! :dummy: 

I had to work in the Princess Stabbity dialogue, if only because Alistair's evil laugh is adorable. And speaking of adorable, I forgot how cute he and Trinne were in the initial stages of flirting. :giggle: As usual, Alex wrote Harvey's POV and I did Trinne's.... Aaannnd I'm rushing to get this up before I go on vacation,so I'm sure there's something I'm forgetting to say.... I'll edit if I remember...


Of Wardens and Pariahs ch1--First Impressions

Of Wardens and Pariahs ch 20--Band of Fools

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Alistair, Leliana, Sten, Morrigan, and Dragon Age in general belong to BioWare

Harvey belongs to freethegoats

Trinne is mine
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AJSKDSJDKS(Agents of SHIELD spoilers, kinda)

Journal Entry: Wed Sep 24, 2014, 4:44 AM
NO.
ABC/WHEDON YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME.
YOU CANNOT START THE NEW SEASON OF S.H.I.E.L.D WITH PEGGY AND THE HOWLING COMMANDOS AND EXPECT ME TO NOT FANGIRL MYSELF INTO INCOHERENCY.
AKSKDFKNRIOGIROSGIOSBGISE-
OH. FITZ. FITZZZZZZ. NOOOOOOOO. BABY NOOO. MY HEART.
DAMN YOU, WHEDON AND TANCHAROEN.
*rolls on the floor crying* 
NONOONONONONO.
*DED* 

  • Watching: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
  • Drinking: Coffee
80. Hidden Talents

Cleaning up is more labor-intensive than I expected. Of course, that may have something to do with the fact I keep stopping to sass back at Sigrun every time she comments teasingly about walking in on me and Jowan kissing--again. That really kills my productivity.

Fortunately for me--and for Jowan, who would have wound up doing most of the work if things kept on the way they were--Nevio distracts the Legionnaire by instructing her to remove her shirt so he can start on her tattoo.

She doesn't even hesitate before stripping the garment off and bunching it up to use as padding when she sits and leans her chest against the back of her chair. "Aye aye, Crow boy."

Nevio sighs, spreading the necessary tools and ink on the table. "Cara, do you think we could maybe find me a different nickname, hmm? What with all we've been through together," he wheedles. "Consider the fact I am about to have very sharp needles in close proximity to your back before you get too sarcastic."

She grins and laughs. "I'll try to come up with somethin' better. But no promises. Crow boy."

The assassin gives a long suffering sigh--"Cielo mi auiti"--and begins inking the raven design onto Sigrun's shoulder blade. "Remember to hold still..."

"I'm no stranger to gettin' tattoos," the dwarf reminds him sweetly, waggling her eyebrows. "I know the drill."

"Good. Then hold still and don't distract me," Nevio admonishes, flicking away excess ink.

She gives a quick nod and then dutifully holds still and remains quiet.

Jowan and I are almost done cleaning up the water from our impromptu--and rather out of control--fight when Zev and Aenya return once more. I raise an eyebrow. "All finished?"

Aenya is laughing as she nods. "The tainted bedrolls are no more. Hope the new ones are comfy enough for ya."

"An' I hope you an' Blondie manage t' keep it in your pants," Sigrun mutters. "Least until we part ways."

"No worries, salroka," the redhead replies. "Last night was I haven't seen you in months/ thank the Stone we aren't dead sex. Badly as I may want to let him ravish me tonight, I'll be a good girl."

"So you you came to the same conclusion I did, huh?" I comment, using the footboard of one bed to haul myself to my feet.

"What, that by the time they're done it'll be too late in the day to get much travelin' done anyway? Yep." Aenya plunks cross-legged on the other bed. "Makes more sense t' just leave in the mornin'. 'Specially since we're not racin' the clock no more."

"I vote that I get one of the beds since I'm gonna be sleepin' on my stomach," Sigrun chirps with a mischievous grin.

"Fine by me," I shrug, leaning back so I'm half-sitting on the footboard. "So long as I'm sharin' with Jowan, I don't care where in the room we are."

"Thanks for that," the mage deadpans, sitting so that he's leaning against the same footboard as me.

"Oh, please," I scoff, roughing his hair gently. "You'll be dead to the world in five minutes, tops. What do you care?"

He shrugs. "Don't really. It's you I'm worried about."

"Jowan, I just said I don't care. I meant it."

"Sleeping on the floor makes your snoring louder," he mutters. He shoots me a half apologetic, half teasing smile. "Don't wanna keep people up."

"That's a risk we'll just have to take," I snark back with a grin of my own. "It's high time I took a turn on the floor. An' my shoulder's as healed as it's gonna get, so I have no excuse for needin' a bed. We get the nest." I nod toward the stack of replacement bedrolls in the corner.

"Fine." Jowan lets his head fall back against the footboard so he can give me a mischievous grin. "We get complaints about noise, I'm blaming you."

"Go right ahead," I chuckle. "Soris and Shianni have been teasing me about the snoring since I was five. While some aspects of myself bother me, that ain't one of 'em."

"Point taken," he nods, holding out one hand. "Little help?"

I laugh and give him a boost getting to his feet.

oOo

Sigrun's tattoo looks amazing when Nevio finally finishes. It takes hours to complete, and concentration enough I think the man gave himself a headache, but the result is a sight to behold.

The raven is simple lines, but somehow appears intricate at the same time. It's wings are on a downbeat, the feathers stretching across Sigrun's shoulder blade while the body and tail feathers extend down her spine. The inked lines follow the flow of muscles, incorporate her scars, and in general lead to my extremely eloquent comment.

"Whoa." I blink in astonishment. "Sig, he did a really good job."

"You got a real talent for this, salroka," Aenya agrees, elbow prodding the ex-Crow ribs. "I might add t' my own collection in our travels."

I raise an eyebrow. "So that's what you're doing then? Going with them?"

He nods. "It's far more appealing than spending the rest of my life behind a counter, asking people if they have their shipping manifest." He opens a jar of some kind of salve, scoops out a generous dollop, and smears it over the design that covers almost half of Sigrun's upper back. "There you go, cara, all finished, and it is protected from infection as well."

"I wanna see..." Sigrun mutters, scooting off the chair and heading for the mirror that hangs near the fireplace. It takes some twisting, contortionist worthy moves, but when she finally manages to see, her eyes light up. "Sweet Stone, Nevio, that's amazing! I love it!" She bounds back across the room and nearly strangles him with an energetic hug. "Thank you so much!"

"Ancestors, salroka, let the man breathe," Aenya laughs.

The brunette releases her death grip with a sheepish giggle. "Sorry, Feathers."

His eyebrows rise. "Feathers?"

"Mmhm. You have feathers--" she runs a finger along his tattooed scalp--"you gave me feathers, and ya used to be a Crow. I thought it fit. It's that or Crow boy, take your pick."

"Feathers is fine."

She laughs. "Thought so. Now, am I gonna need to smear that stuff on my back every night for a while to keep it from gettin' infected?"

"Just tomorrow and the day after should be good enough," he replies, nudging the jar toward her. "You just need to be liberal with it, yes?"

"Got it," the dwarf nods, palming the jar. "So, there's a few hours left in the day. If we aren't leavin' 'til tomorrow anyway, what're we doin' with those hours?"

I shrug. "Open to suggestion. Did you have something in mind?"

"We haven't played Wicked Grace in awhile..." she hints.

"Maker, no. Or, at least, count me out," I retort. "My pride suffered enough last time, thanks."

"Anybody?" Sigrun raises an eyebrow at the others. Jowan demurs as well, which isn't really surprising, but Zev and Aenya agree with alacrity, and it doesn't take much to talk Nevio into it as well. He cleans up the tattoo supplies and the four of them gather around the table.

Jowan rummages in his pack until he finds a rather large and impressive book, titled in some arcane language, before dragging a spare chair toward the fireplace and settling in to read.

"Good book?" I ask playfully.

"Yep. Lots of new spells in here," he ripostes, tone equally playful. He opens it, thumbing through until he finds where he left off. One eyebrow quirks in surprise.

"What?" I peek over his shoulder, but all I see is weird scribbles in some language I don't recognize. "What language is that?"

He clears his throat sheepishly, face going pink. "Tevene."

"Tev- You can read that?!" I gawk in fairly open disbelief.

Jowan ducks his head, looking even more sheepish. "...Uldred taught me. You think there's books in the Circle tower about blood magic written in the King's Tongue?"

"No, I just..." I stare at the illustrations on his current page. "You learned from Uldred?"

He side eyes me. "Rahna, I'm constantly insisting I didn't learn blood magic from a demon. Where did you think the knowledge came from, thin air? They don't leave books like that just lying around where apprentices can find them."

"Point taken," I concede, resting my chin on his shoulder and trying to puzzle out the spell on the page. "So, what was surprising?"

"This next spell is one that Crow mage used last night," he explains, pointing at a section of the text. "And so is this one..." he mutters, peeking ahead.

"Oooh, so you can learn to mess with gravity like she could?" "I ask. "Sounds good to me."

He chuckles. "So is this how you plan to spend the next few hours? Giving over the shoulder commentary on my book?"

"Nah." I step back. "I think I'll write Shianni. I haven't done that in ages."

"You haven't done that ever," Jowan corrects with a laugh.

"Oh, hush." I wrinkle my nose at him as I dig in my pack for blank vellum. I know he's right, though. I also know reading Tevene is not a common thing for someone who's not Tevinter themselves--even a mage--with their reputation outside their borders. What other talents do you have that no one knows anything about?

That's a mystery for another day, however. Right now I need to be figuring out exactly how much to tell my cousin about my recent escapades. Dear Shianni, I got captured and psychologically tortured by the Crows while trying to rescue a friend is probably not the sort of thing she wants to hear from me. I glance over at the Wicked Grace game in time to catch Nevio's triumphant grin and Zevran scrubbing the heel of his hand over his new scar. Well, I know how the first game went... I chuckle to myself as Sigrun demands they deal another hand.

That's it. The realization hits not unlike lightning. I can start with my friends. She's only ever met, Zev, Jowan, and Nate, so there'll be a lot to talk about. I settle in to write as Aenya shuffles and deals another hand.

oOo

Sigrun winds the next three hands in a row. When Aenya playfully accuses her of cheating, the Legionnaire protests her innocence, but Zevran wins the next hand.

All four of them seem to have plenty of energy left well when I"m ready to go to bed. I don't interrupt them; if we're going to be parting ways come morning, I can let Sigrun go as long a she wants at this game. So I simply start unfurling and arranging the bedroll in the nest we've been using them for in preparation for going to sleep. My shoulder twinges a couple times, but not in pain. It's more like the muscles are stretching ever so slightly beyond their allowed range of motion. I'll have to test it when we get back to the Vigil, but I'm pretty sure I foresee a weapons change in my future. And I'm surprisingly okay with that fact.

"Want some help?" Jowan asks, watching me over the back of his chair as he stretches--which leads to quickly snagging the book as it tries to slide out of his lap.

"Ehh, I'm almost done," I shrug, offering him a roguish grin. "But company would be nice."

He grins back. "It would, huh?"

"Yep. Assumin' you're ready to go to bed..."

"More or less, yeah." He marks his page and closes the book, setting it aside. "B'sides, it's important to have enough sleep for tomorrow, right?" This is pitched slightly louder and aimed more at Sigrun than me. 

The brunette waves off the hint she should get to bed. "In a minute. They're playin' for the other bed an' I wanna see how this shakes out." She nods at Aenya and Nevio, who are now facing off in a one on one game of Diamondback.

"Oh, fin, just don't wake us celebrating whoever wins," I tease, leaving two of the bedroll tied shut and leaning against the wall by the fireplace.

Jowan and I settle ourselves in the nest of bedrolls and blankets and quickly fall asleep.

oOo

When I wake in the morning, the figure cocooned in the bedrolls I left separate is decidedly alone, and decidedly too tall to be either an elf or a dwarf. Which means Aenya won last night and elected to share the bed with Zev. I smile to myself as I brush hair out of my face and gather it back to tie in a ponytail. I kind of figured it would end up like that. Aenya is good at Wicked Grace, but near unbeatable at Diamondback. Probably why it was her facing Nevio last night. When it comes to cards, Zevran's always preferred Wicked Grace.

I crawl out of bed, and--after making note of the time--start nudging people awake. Except for Jowan. I'm not even going to bother trying for another hour. It would be wasted effort to try now. The others are all fairly easy. Zevran especially has always been prone to spring awake at the slightest touch. He has his Crow training to thank for that, I guess. Which explains why Nevio is the same way. I bump him with one foot and he's bolt upright wide awake. The dwarves take a little more coaxing, and Sigrun's back is still tender, making her more snarly than usual. The raven is puffy to the touch, but Nevio promises that's normal and it'll go down over the next couple days.

She gives him a flat look. "It better, Feathers."

He chuckles and ruffles her hair. "It will. Now get up, have some breakfast. I'm sure your fearless leader would like to make a good bit of progress today, yes?" He glances at me and I nod.

"Well, then she better get workin' on her boyfriend. 'Cause Ancestors only know how long it'll take to get the man out of bed," Sigrun points out, standing and gingerly pulling on a shirt.

She's right, but I still wait until the rest of us are a good way into breakfast before I even try. And still all I get the first few pokes is mumbled gibberish that amounts to Leave me alone and his head disappearing under a pillow. So I laugh, steal said pillow, and whack him with it a few times to wake him up. Today does not go far enough to require tickling, but it comes close.

And Jowan looks decidedly grumpy when he finally sits up and rakes hair out of his eyes. "Okay, 'm up, happy?"

"As a clam," I riposte cheerily, pressing a quick kiss against the tip of his nose. "Get up, eat, and we need to be heading home." I'm really feeling guilty about how long Nathaniel's been in charge now.

"Slow down, Rahna," he grumbles, small smile tugging at his lips. "You know I'm the furthest thing from a morning person."

I do have to concede that point, and so distract myself by chatting with Zev, Aenya, and Nevio about their plans. It's pretty much what I expected; passing through Bastion so Nevio can tie up the loose ends with Ravenswing Exports and then off to who knows where after the next Guildmaster. My curiosity sated there, we turn our attention to packing.

oOo

It's late morning by the time we're finally ready to go. We exchange goodbyes outside the inn. I hug Zevran extra tight. "Good luck, and hopefully we won't ever have to do this again."

He laughs. "I don't know, Aenya seems to enjoy my new scars..."

"Zev." I eye the dark line that cuts across his cheek. "No getting caught again. At least for a few more years. And I'm really sorry about that." I nod toward the scar.

"Oh, please, minx. It makes me look more dashing." He winks at me before stepping back and nodding farewell to Jowan. "Both of you stay safe and take care, yes?"

Jowan snorts. "Please, it's Rahna. I wouldn't be surprised if she has us neck deep in trouble before a months's passed."

That earns a hearty laugh from Zev. "Very true. Best of luck, amico."

And with that, we're going our separate ways. Zevran, Aenya, and Nevio for Bastion, and me, Jowan, and Sig for Ansburg. I start whistling a song as we head down the road.

"What're you so cheery about?" Jowan, raising an eyebrow as he laces his fingers between mine.

"Just wondering what adventure we're gonna have next."

"Maker's breath, woman, can we have at least a month of peace and quiet before you start looking for excitement again?"

I giggle. "I make no such promises, ser mage. We're Grey Wardens. You know I can't."

"Concede the point," he nods. "Then just promise you'll let me help with whatever comes our way."

"That I can promise." I squeeze his hand. "In fact, I wouldn't want it any other way."

And that's the truth. I have no idea what's ahead, for the Wardens, for me, but I do know I want him with me to deal with whatever life throws my way. It's good to have people you can count on, and I know I can count on him.

Always.
Always ch 80
And with that, we're done. Only this installment, I promise. I just need to work out the next couple plot arcs. Witch Hunt in particular, I want to do, but don't want it to get too long(considering the events of Awakening took me 68 chapters to cover, it's a serious concern xD).  And I have an  idea for after that which involves some careful planning. I also have some family stuff to deal with(nothing bad, just time consuming). So we'll be back in roughly a month with the next story for my girl. :) See you then.

Chapter One

Chapter Seventy Nine 

------------------------------------------------
Jowan, Sigrun, Zevran, and Dragon Age in general belong to BioWare

Rahna, Aenya, and Nevio are mine
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FyreQueen89
Meat and Sarcasm Gal XD
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Current Residence: US of A
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Sun Oct 12, 2014, 2:43 PM


It's back again! I think most of y'all know the drill, but just in case:

 Ze Rules:
 1 - For each of the first 15 people answering this journal, I will put their avatar and 3 deviations I like most from their gallery on the list.
2 - If you answer, you have to do the same in your journal, putting the tagger (me) on the first place.

1. :iconyuhime: Loving her whole gallery is a given, and picking just three is like pulling teeth, buuuut...
Templar by yuhime Alistair Theirin by yuhime Intruder by yuhime with honorable mentions to every single other Evarist piece, and the one of Alistair being badass fighting the desire demon in LJ.

2. :iconemedeme: Another hard one(okay, let's be real, that will be true of most--if not all--of the people on this list XD). 
Warden Carver by emedeme  Knights of the Steam Republic by emedeme  100DoN - Butterflies. by emedeme honorable mentions to all things 100DoN and every other time she's drawn my babies

3. :iconmaloneyberry: another harrrd choice....
DA2: Sebastian by Maloneyberry  ME2: Kaidan by Maloneyberry  SWTOR: Sith by Maloneyberry

4. :iconfreethegoats: *sigh* I tried to pick not-our-babies things, and largely failed. (sorrynotsorry... at least there's one that's different XD)
Rogues: Ilerion by freethegoats A little privacy by freethegoats  Armor design - Trinne by freethegoats

5. :iconkitiaramajere:
SWTOR: Just Another Job
Title: SWTOR: Just Another Job
Author: KitiaraMajere
Game: SWTOR
Characters/Pairing: Bounty Hunter/Sith Inquisitor (mention Malavai Quinn, Gault Rennow)
Disclaimer: Characters, etc. property of Bioware/EA, anything they get up to in these stories is entirely my fault.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The clear gray eyes were rather striking, Ke’phias thought. Not to mention the scarlet tattoo that wreathed the side of her face. And her features, while not what some would call pretty, were strong and, to his mind, more attractive than the soft beauty of a dancing slave. He watched as the woman moved across the bar with a relaxed yet purposeful stride.
An ungentle elbow to his ribs interrupted his analysis. “Hey boss, I realize part of your allure is your overabundance of bravado, but doncha think that eyeing a Sith like that crosses the line into foolhardiness?”
Keph grinned, throwing a wink at Gault. “They still have nee
  Nothing left to lose(A short look at a possible event in Anders' past.)
Anders stood by the window embrasure, but for once his favorite view of the world outside didn't even draw a glance. All he could see was her laughing smile, her eyes sparkling with glee as she urged him along to another escapade. A corner of his mouth lifted a little as he remembered the practical jokes they'd played on instructors, or their quick, explosive trysts in hidden corners. And always, her smile.
There had been one time he had seen her without a smile. One time they had actually managed to spend the whole night together, in a forgotten storeroom. Instead of going their separate ways after sex, they had talked. He had told her things he had never told anyone else, about his family, his dreams. She had sat up, unconcerned with her nakedness as she reached out to cup his cheek. Her seriousness made him nervous as she stared at him unblinkingly. "Never let them see the real you, Anders. They'll use it to control you."
He had gr
Entwined Destinies----------------------
Entwined Destinies
Universe/characters: PotC, James Norrington
Author: KitiaraMajere
----------------------
"Think about it: The Black Pearl. The last real pirate threat in the Caribbean, mate. How can you pass that up?"
"By remembering that I serve others, Mr. Sparrow, not only myself." ―Jack Sparrow and James Norrington
"James Norrington. What has the world done to you?"
"Nothing I didn't deserve." ―Elizabeth Swann and James Norrington

Cold. So cold.
He had thought that steel was cold, but the blade that pierced his chest was hot. His lungs were on fire and he couldn't seem to draw a breath. The rest of him, though, was cold. Cold as the chill of the deep sea.
Even as he fell, his eyes searched for her. He'd seen her expression, when she realized what he meant to do. He had seen the horror, and the denial. But he had planned well, cut off all her options but the one he wanted. She was safe, that was all that mattered.  He had watched that fac


6. :iconrihouston: Gallery full of hot BioWare men made this a ridiculously difficult decision ;P

The War Room by RiHouston  My Favorite Flyboys by RiHouston  Don't Leave Me by RiHouston
 

  • Watching: David Tennat/Catherine Tate Much Ado About Nothing
  • Drinking: Peach Mango tea

Webcam

Think fast! Favorite character from How I Met Your Mother? 

33%
5 deviants said Barney
20%
3 deviants said Lily
13%
2 deviants said Robin
13%
2 deviants said Marshall
13%
2 deviants said Augh, I can't pick *headdesk*
7%
1 deviant said I LOVE THEM ALL
0%
No deviants said Ted
0%
No deviants said Ranjit(XD)

Comments


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:iconsquabbit:
Squabbit Featured By Owner Sep 6, 2014  Student General Artist
Thanks so much for the fav!
Reply
:iconrihouston:
RiHouston Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you so much for the fave on 'The War Room'!  I pray that is an actual scene that comes into play in the game.  If not, someone needs to mod that in and share it on Youtube so I can live vicariously through you non-console players. T-T
Reply
:iconblueberry-me:
Blueberry-me Featured By Owner Sep 2, 2014  Student General Artist
Hello there! Thank you for faving, dear! And sorry for thanking so late, summer has been crazy and I've been bussy... *sigh* I have to comment so many deviations yet xD
Anyway! Have a wonderful day! :heart:
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:iconolivegbg:
olivegbg Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Many thanks for adding my image to your favorites! Puppy-love :D by choco90
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:iconemedeme:
emedeme Featured By Owner Jun 12, 2014  Student Digital Artist
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAREST! I'm still in Seattle so I didn't have time to draw BUT EXPECT SOMETHING SOON
Reply
:iconfyrequeen89:
FyreQueen89 Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2014
THANK YOU DARLING! :tighthug: I SHALL EAGERLY AND SEMI PATIENTLY AWAIT THIS SOMETHING :giggle:
Reply
:iconsilieth:
Silieth Featured By Owner Jun 12, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Happy Birthday, Cait! :heart::hug::glomp:
Reply
:iconfyrequeen89:
FyreQueen89 Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2014
Thanks, darlin :iconcreepglompplz:
Reply
:iconthephoenixking:
ThePhoenixKing Featured By Owner Jun 12, 2014
Hope you're having a wonderful birthday!
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:iconfyrequeen89:
FyreQueen89 Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2014
It was rather awesome, thank you. :D
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