Discussion in 'Your Bijou Blogette' started by Loq, Dec 16, 2018.
I mean one on ones are good too
The week.... has enough meals..... for everyone......
nine companions (solas, Viv, Dorian, Blackwall, Cass, bull+chargers, Sera, Cole, and varric) plus three advisors (leli, Cullen, and Josie) is twelve nights, plus one for group and one for Events is an even two weeks :p the math, it works
updoot: distressing in different ways
Soap Opera Ghilan did not put the priest back together, but probably did cry on a very uncomfortable Solas for everything that was lost and the people who died there
Din'an Hanin was more Righteous Fury at shemlen Venatori daring to desecrate what humans had already destroyed
I have further decided that this is at least 30% "holy shit we're still alive" after having to rez Dorian six fucking times fighting the Gamordan Stormrider
please stop standing in lightning, Dorian
he will not
Ghilan: so it makes me really uncomfortable when people call me the Herald of Andraste, I'm not Andrastean and we both know the idea of a mortal soul surviving 900 years to hand me out of the Fade is laughable at best
Ghilan: so anyway I was thinking of having Josie change the title to Herald of Mythal, because really if any glowing magic lady is going to save my life
Solas: waIT NO--
in which we don't have an Official translation so it can't go on the wiki, but 90% of the words have been used elsewhere so the line as a whole is understandable
Ghilan: if the Maker is real he's a dick and I'm gonna fight him
I'll punch your god, I'll punch my gods, IDGAF
Ghilan: ....I'm gonna punch a god and no one can stop me
OC PROMPT ME UP
GHILAN AND SNEAKING INTO THE INFIRMARY TO HELP FOLKS
Ghilan + knife elf
ECLIPSE BEING TOLD HE'S GON BE A DAD
Gess trying to figure out a present Jetski gave her
There's always a rush when a company comes back; they bring healers with them wherever they go, of course, but the Inquisition seems to attract an unfortunate number of soldiers who think 'it can wait 'til we get back' is a safe way to handle wounds. The infirmary has a capable staff, of course, but the extra workload gives Ghilan the excuse-- and cover-- they need to slip in and do some good. It's... soothing, somehow, to feel fever recede and watch flesh knit beneath the green-gold glow of their magic, a more tangible (more palatable) victory than some of the things they've had to do or decide under the weight of their title.
So, of course, it never lasts long.
Cullen at least isn't stupid enough to interrupt a mage mid-spell; he waits until it fades away to cut in, murmuring "a word, Inquisitor?" in a voice pitched just loud enough to make it to their ears. He is circumspect even in his annoyance, well aware a scene is the last thing a busy infirmary needs. The young, freshly-healed soldier who hadn't thought to question an elf treating her wounds is... less so. "Inquisitor?" she repeats incredulously, eyes widening. "Your Worship, I'm-- I didn't realise, I'm sorry--"
Ghilan bites their tongue on a laugh, one ear twitching to catch Cullen's sigh even as the title ripples out through the bustle of the infirmary. "No, no, it's alright," they say over the rising noise. "Have to make myself useful somehow, don't I, with you lot running around doing all the hard work for us?" They pat her hand, just shy of the ugly gash along her arm that had sat poorly bound for nearly a week before returning; even properly healed, the arm will be tender for a good while. "Go easy on that for another few days-- work on your offside, perhaps?-- and you'll be fresh as daisies. But I do believe the good Commander requested my presence, so I do hope you'll excuse me?" They don't wait for another poleaxed response, standing and turning to instead walk with their eternally exhausted Commander. "I suppose it's too much to hope you've come for yourself?" they ask, slipping back into the lower register he'd used earlier. Much a scene as The Inquisitor Working would be-- is, they note with a wince as they slip outside chased by furious chatter-- they can at least respect Cullen's need to keep his health private.
maraas and buying spices!
It probably says something that even now, years after moving north and settling, Ghilan still wakes to the feather-light shift of weight on the mattress with lightning in their remaining hand and 'assassin' pulsing in their thoughts. The weight vanishes back over the edge of the bed with a yip, a too-small silhouette in the dark room that produces a thud far more solid than its size would suggest when it hits the floor. When she hits the floor, Ghilan suspects. They sigh-- no true assassin would react so to their mark waking-- and let the lightning fade into veilfire, thankful for once that Dorian's been away. He's accepted that sometimes gremlins are going to show up at the estate, brought by Bull or Sera or simply someone who's heard of a healer who works for free, but being woken before dawn by one with a distinctly unchildlike appreciation of blades would be a bit much, even for him. "What is it, da'len? Show me."
The girl-- Ghilan still hasn't figured out her name, only that it's none of the more common ones in the area-- hops back up onto the bed, only bracing with one arm, and they see at least the start of the problem just in how the other is held close and stiff against her torso. They flick the veilfire over to the sconce sitting empty on the desk, let the girl decide just how to convey what she wants. It takes her a long few minutes, frowning tight under the old scar across her nose, but she does eventually offer the injured arm. Ghilan does their best to hide their surprise. She's barely accepted food before, only slipping into the house to take what she thinks won't be missed; to ask for help... It warms something in their chest, but sentiment can wait. "I won't touch you myself, but I will need to be close to figure out what's wrong," they warn, and wait for her nod before reaching over; even so, they keep their hand palm-up and open, golden light wafting up to wrap her from fingertips to elbow. The strains of growth are evident everywhere, of course, and a few old lines of badly-healed breaks, but-- they refuse to wince-- there's a thinner, fresher wound around the thin bone of her arm. "Did you land badly on this?"
The girl nods, looking a bit sulky; that they've guessed so quickly, that she misjudged at all... who knows. "It happens, da'len," Ghilan says instead of trying to figure out what's going on behind eyes made even bluer by veilfire. "I can fix it, but it will take time and you'll be tired and hungry afterwards." The tiniest mulish snort is all the answer that earns, and Ghilan bites back a smile. If they haven't already met, they have a sneaking suspicion this girl and Sera will get on quite nicely. "Don't say I didn't warn you, then. I'll dull the pain as best I can, but it might be a bit sore, alright?" Again, they wait for the nod before sinking into the true healing.
fair warning: Eclipse did not want to be a dad.
Eclipse feels Whisperwind's wings flick up just as quickly as his own drop. It does make sense-- had been his initial fear, even, when they'd first noticed the deformation-- but to have that confirmed...
His processor spins out on nothing, too many competing threads for conscious thought to make it through; distantly, he can hear Venture warbling on, can feel someone smaller (Whisper?) grab his arm, but none of it's sinking in past shock and dread and memory and-- Pain lances up his arm, short and sharp. He reboots his vocalizer, lets his gaze fall to Whisperwind. Delicate gold fingers have already left the gap of his elbow, not lingering past that first necessary shock.
[Whisperwind to Eclipse]: Are you okay?
The answer to that is obvious, but it still sticks in his spark, in his throat. There's a tilt of worry to Whisper's wings, but even that can't suppress the way they keep flicking up and up and up, joy shining through. Eclipse can't ruin that. He can't.
[Eclipse to Whisperwind]: I'll be fine. What did I miss?
[Whisperwind to Eclipse]: Venture bothering poor Twintrack, mostly, you know how he gets.
Eclipse shakes his head faintly, focuses for a long moment on the spin of his fans. It... should be fine. Several others onboard have produced sparklings already, all safely as far as anyone's been able to tell. Whisperwind will be fine, and the sparkling too. Eclipse...
He tears his thoughts from sparklight and fear and aftermath, and forces himself to derail Venture long enough that Twintrack can get back to work.
oh no poor Eclipse
now i wanna know how he reacts to Ups getting Feli but i reckon that'll be less of an issue for him
I mean, iirc Feli is entirely Ups' creation and didn't involve merging? Eclipse's issue with the twins specifically is that he knows 1) as much as any of the medics do what making a sparkling requires and 2) that whisper's as shy about sparkplay as he is so there's a very minimal chance this Isn't a trauma baby
(or, as the case may be, trauma twins, but they're not differentiated enough yet to be noticeable :P)
oh yeah no Feli is 100% Ups spawn... I don't think we yet worked out if Ups and Eclipse ever actually get to merging or just...don't because Ups has his own massive issue with sparkplay
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