Ok dumb thought, but like… the inquisition is lucky that the inquisitor leaned down and caught the orb with their hand. i woulda just stopped it with my foot like u would a soccer ball or something. Like imagine trying to close rifts with ur feet.
uses her softest voice to express that she likes her armor
takes baths with rose petals
won’t tell anyone if her name is stitched into her underpants
broke a suitor’s arm
says the Divine wanted Varric’s autograph, but Cassandra brought him to Haven because she felt the Divine needed to see Varric’s chest hair “for herself”
obviously has more than four middle names but never reveals the rest
wants to be read poetry>doesn’t specify poem>lovingly mocks inquisitor’s choice in poetry
if you romance her and exhaust all of her Trespasser dialogue options she’ll say “what would you like, my love?” in a real gentle voice as many times as you want to hear it
has the best laugh
won’t play Eye-Spy with Varric but will play guessing games with Sera
somehow withstood 15 mins of an orlesian noble going on about soup, didn’t kill anyone in the process
The first time I saw this was on deviant art and I had to do a double take because I thought it was a 3-D Render or something. Like this is egg-squisite.
Everyone’s all drawing their inquisitors and I’m just sitting here therapeutically drawing my advisors until my hands bleed
Please feel free to keep drawing them! and um… I hope you enjoy this lil fic based on the second piece.
Like I really hope…
Cullen
fell to his knees. His breathing, which seconds before had been fast and
shallow, faded into a slow dull thud. He blinked, trying desperately to bring
the world back into focus even as it blurred before his eyes. Amid all the confusion
his grip had loosened on his sword hilt and he immediately tightened it on
reflex, his knuckles whitening with the effort. The sensation grounded him,
reminded him of the pressing danger and urgency of his task.
He took
a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his chest and the aching from every part of
his body, and forced the
world back into focus. For a brief moment everything was clear: the temple of
Mythal ahead of him, the bodies of soldiers from both sides scattered all
around, the faint sound of his men retreating through the forest… He couldn’t
see the Inquisitor’s party, but they had to be well into the temple by now.
Gingerly,
he dragged one leg forwards, his boot barely finding purchase on the lake floor.
It wasn’t enough. As soon as he started to stand it slipped and sent him
tumbling headfirst into the water. Fresh pain blossomed from his temple. It
took all his strength to fight off the unrelenting darkness and stay conscious
long enough to roll onto his back.
He
breathed steadily, slowly, in and out before absentmindedly reaching up to prod
his head wound. The fact that his fingers came away glistening red with his own
blood should probably have concerned him more than it did, but as it was, all
he could care about was the warmth of it trickling down from his temple, a nice
contrast to the cool shallow water gently lapping at him.
SourFlame 