Don’t you dare say Blackwall isn’t worthy. This is man will be my death!
Vivienne: Well, you two seem to make each other happy.
Blackwall: And? Surely, you’re not ending this on a complimentary note.
Vivienne: I was just wondering how you imagined your future. The Inquisitor and the– well, whatever you are now.
Blackwall: Ah, I see. You think we’re a poor match. Lady Vivienne, that woman there will stand with Thedas’ mightiest because of who she is. She may choose whomever she pleases, even an undeserving nobody. Envy her for her ability to love freely, but recognize that envy is what it is.
“Most Holy, Fereldan urges you to move forward. The peace talks have been delayed long enough. If Inquisitor Adaar is currently indisposed, then until he is able, the lady ambassador is surely capable of proceeding in his stead.”
“Arl Teagan, you are well aware I will enforce no such proceedings. Fereldan surely will not crumple under the weight of the Inquisition if you spend one more day brooding over your country’s own dilemmas. My patience wears thin with your pestering.”
Words have alluded her in the hours she’s spent curled into Kaaras’ side, stroking the curls at the back of his head to alleviate the grimaces of pain he pulls in his sleep, careful never to lay weight to the memory of his missing limb.
His breath discards the shallow pattern, and suddenly, he squeezes the small of her waist.
“I’m here, Josephine.” His voice is cracked and rough.
A hefty pause lingers, and Josephine rubs just behind his broken horn. She inhales the citrus and firewood of his musk, and finds it tainted by the metallic taste of blood and infection. Kaaras’ skin is unpleasantly damp and flushed, and his pulse thrums with the thread of a heart that knows fear.
Captain-Radioactive-Mentality 