crowblooded-blog

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archiving

sorry guys. can’t do this anymore and it’s not really fair to my writing partners either so

i love all of you very much <3 please be safe, and take care of yourselves. if you want to keep in touch hmu on my main!

#crowtext #i might move to overwatch but also i'm. really not feeling writing in general so [ shrug emoji ]

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svcrificed:

      It warmed him to see the boy so struck by the prospect of a man of his status. It meant little to him, Grey Warden, Commander— all titles of something he never truly wanted but was given anyway. But it was nice to seem something grand in the eyes of someone so innocent instead of revered like some strange holy thing. Talen was just an elf that had fallen into a path he wasn’t so sure was meant to be his, but he did his best. 

     With a hand rested upon Zevran’s shoulder he guided him toward where he’d known a tavern to be. Hardly the best place to take a child but far better than the dark of these streets. “What is your favorite food?” He inquired with a smile, ruffling his hair almost playfully. “We’ll get you your favorites, hm? Would you enjoy that?”

“Yes! Yes I would! Uh, my...favourite....uh...” the boy sank into thought, his forehead creasing with concentration as he tried to come up with something. 

It wasn’t as if there was much to be had at the brothel in terms of meals, really.

But it also wasn’t as if he really knew better. Of course sometimes the smell of bread wafted from the not-quite-nearby marketplace, seeping in past the curtains with the rot and stink of fish. Kings and Queens feasted on things like roast swans and figs and cheese and honey. He knew about finer food, sure, but knowing about it wasn’t the same as having actually eaten it. 

And suddenly Zevran realized then that he was very much out of place here. 

He stole a discreet glance upwards at Talen, tall and majestic in his cloak and armour, the bow slung across his back in a graceful arc. And what was Zevran, in the end? He knew enough to conceptualize that people generally did not take an interest in grubby little orphans whose idea of good food was watery fish stew. Whatever the Warden might have seen in him, he saw wrong; and when he saw right, he would be disgusted. 

“...um.” 

#svcrificed #au: little crow #local baby has a crisis #seven queues in an elf costume

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please do not reblog if you are not an rp blog

anyways here’s a bored inquizev

#sketches #narcisse narcisse #inquisitor au #rolls away

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[ sneaks in

#crowtext #do you know what i really miss #dashboard activities #i want to do memes but What Is Time #i also need to be less shy about replying to people i guess

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Late Classical to early Hellenistic period Greek gold olive wreath, c. 4th century BCE. From Christie’s Auctions.

#magpie tendencies #seven queues in an elf costume

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Jambiya Dagger with a Double Blade

Dated: 19th century

Culture: Ottoman

Measurements: overall length 42.5 cm

The dagger has a wide, undulated, double-edged blades with small, ribbed tips. Both blades are pierced at the centre and decorated with gold floral motifs and Arabic writing on one side. The grip is covered with silver-inlaid lamina, embossed with trophies and floral motifs.

Source: Copyright © 2017 Czerny’s International Auction House S.R.L.

#blades cw #tools of the trade #seven queues in an elf costume

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Vintage Snake Ring from diamentdesigns

#magpie tendencies #also very dorian #seven queues in an elf costume

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spiritflux:

The training dummy didn’t stand a chance. Even though he wielded a blunted wooden training blade, cored through with lead for weight, the figure was not made to withstand such a brutal, unrelenting attack. But for Fenris, he did not care for the well-being of the Inquisition’s possessions—he just needed to spar, to fight, to work his muscles until his entire body ached and he could feel something other than the total numbness that had fallen over him since hearing the news of Hawke’s death.

It just… hurt.

It hurt, in a way that he did not think he had ever felt before. It was not like when he had had slain the Fog Warriors, when the months afterwards had fogged him with a haze of confusion and uncertainty and guilt. It was not even like when he had slain Varania, his own sister, in a knee-jerk reaction that he had regretted ever since. Without Hawke, he was just… lost, directionless, set afloat at sea without oars. It was worse than when he had finally escaped from the Imperium, and for the first time in his life had found himself without orders, without routine. At least then, he had had a driving goal—to get as far away from home as he could. Now, he had nothing: he could not think of any future at all that he wanted. He simply ate, slept, worked—existed. It was no life, but he did not have it in him to care anymore.

He was aware, of course, that he was being watched even now; he had made it no secret when he had appeared at Skyhold, demanding to see the Inquisitor and hear for himself exactly it what had happened. He was aware that people whispered behind his back when he passed—though whether they were sympathetic murmurs or cruel jibes at how improperly he grieved, he did not care.

But no one had actually approached him so far and no one really bothered him, bar Varric or the friendships that he was slowly building with the Chargers, and so at first he dismissed the voice behind him as speaking to someone else, and paid it little heed. But when there was no immediate reply, he caught himself long enough in his regimented destruction of the dummy to wonder if it was he who was being spoken to. Breathing heavily, he lowered the tip of his blade to the ground, turning to face his greeter.

Zevran Arainai. He had a good head for names, and he had not forgotten this one—they had worked together only briefly, many years ago, but he had been aware of the elf’s presence here in Skyhold. Funny, how an organisation like the Inquisition could be such an attracting force for all of the faces of his past.

“It insulted my mother,” he answered him dryly. No doubt they already knew just why he was out here, but that did not mean that he was going to admit to it. No—some hurts were better kept locked away, close to his heart. Resting the blade up against the battered dummy, he reached for a towel hung on the fence nearby, wiping the sweat of the workout from his face.  “Can I be of service somehow?”

Fenris continued hacking at the dummy.

Zevran's expression faltered a little. It wasn't likely that he was standing too far away to be heard; good hearing was sometimes the difference between life and death for swordbearers. More likely that Fenris was too focused on his target. Most likely that this was a polite way of telling him to bugger off. The assassin shifted his weight subtly, wondering if he was supposed to be taking a hint.

But before he could shrug and leave Fenris turned around, giving him a quick appraising glance. "It insulted my mother," he said, his tone dry and his expression composed as usual -- though the remains of the dummy spoke otherwise. "Can I be of service somehow?" 

It was at this point that Zevran realized he hadn't quite thought of the specifics of his plan aside from Approach and Offer.

"-- er," he began, mentally cycling through appropriate phrases. You seem like you could do with some company? Not quite true. Care to spar? A bit abrupt for his liking. I am concerned about your wellbeing during the grief process? "I was wondering if you wanted, er, company. You know, a more challenging target." He smiled in what he hoped came across as an easy, friendly grin. 

Of course it could be that Fenris would much rather take his feelings out on something that could be comfortably destroyed, but -- well, no harm in asking, right? 

And as vague and uncomfortable this odd sense of empathy might be, it was still there and it demanded to be addressed if not voiced. 

#spiritflux #setting: dai #slowly #slowly adds this to the queue #(i completely understand if you don't feel the thread anymore it's been months i'm so sorry) #seven queues in an elf costume

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Don’t think too much, unless you are thinking about baby crows like these:

If that’s the case then continue thinking about them a lot, because that’s a really good idea and I fully support it.

#birds of a feather #seven queues in an elf costume

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#birds of a feather #seven queues in an elf costume

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#birds of a feather #seven queues in an elf costume

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bythestone:

She laughs at the teasing (it shows her age, young and inexperienced with much of what the world has yet to offer) and nods slightly, “Aye, just a bit.” 

Another sip is taken before the cup’s heat disappears completely – it would be a good drink to have in the colder months, something that can keep even one’s soul warm, she imagines – and then of course, another. The bottom of the cup feels a touch too sweet (Ancestors, damn near everything was too sweet for her on the Surface), though for now, she doesn’t ask for a means to dilute it. 

“If ya wouldn’t mind the company there, I wouldn’t say no to an invitation or two.” She didn’t feel herself the most interesting of their little band, but it was nice to even be even considered for more moments such as this. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Zevran said, watching her drain the cup. As she gets to the dregs her nose wrinkles a little; a tad too sweet, he imagines, for someone who’s never had sugar. 

Never had sugar, never had milk, never felt the sun or the rain on her skin. Or seen the sky, for that matter. The assassin wondered what it must be like, being made to put your life on the line to save a world that you haven’t even lived in. Of course it wasn’t as if the dwarves could treat the blight like someone else’s business, but all the same he couldn’t help but wonder how the Warden must feel about her situation. 

It couldn’t be nice. So the least he could do was make it a bit nicer. Sweeter, even. 

#he will make the Good Coffee for her #energy drinks??? all that aspartame????? nasty nasty #have some Sweet Gentle Coffee #bythestone #setting: origins #seven queues in an elf costume

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Malan Breton F/W 2017 Menswear New York Fashion Week

#walk walk fashion baby #Shiny Leather Gloves #seven queues in an elf costume

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Serpent Tie Bar by withcaregoods

#magpie tendencies #seven queues in an elf costume

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svcrificed:

     The sheer awe that ignited in the boy’s eyes brought a certain degree of pride into his own chest. Though Talen had never truly been proud of what he had been forced to become, seeing the fascination in that young boy’s face made it a lot easier to stomach with all he’s had to do. He smiled warmly, “Warden Commander.” He mended with a little wink, something soft and playful. “Maybe I can tell you a few little stories over some dinner?” It was getting late and the darkness while he was confident in it himself he would rather not have a boy out with him. “Why don’t I buy us a meal and I’ll tell you all the stories I have.”

“Warden Commander,” Zevran said, sincerely awestruck. It occurred to him briefly that the Warden Commander – or at least, given what he knew of people in High Positions of Authority – was supposed to be in some kind of keep or castle, managing the order, but it was soon swept away by the even more exciting prospect that Talen was on an Important Mission. Not just a mission, but a Mission. And maybe, just maybe, he’d get to hear a bit about it.

He was a child, after all.

The boy nodded excitedly, eyes sparkling, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t even supposed to be out this far in the streets, much less go wandering off with a self-professed Grey Warden.

#svcrificed #au: little crow #zevran: i'm a streetwise child! [ runs off with a stranger ] #seven queues in an elf costume

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some thoughts on this blog

so school has been keeping me busy (this is my last semester barring an internship over the summer) along with con prep, commissions, miscellaneous merch prep and mental illness etc.

and while i love writing zev it’s also like...i have drafts that are literally from september and i don’t even know how to reply because guilt

on one hand i feel like the responsible thing to do would be to archive, but on the other hand i’d like to at least get the replies out there and see what happens i guess? and just make it clear again that there’s no pressure to maintain a thread if there’s no interest

idk man life is hard with low self esteem and low permanence

i’m sorry that i’ve been absent and thank you so much for sticking around

#crowtext #rolls into a ditch

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Jade-hilted Dagger

Dated: AH [1]147/AD 1734

Culture: Ottoman

Place of Origin: Turkey

Measurements: overall length 33cm

The dagger features a simple curved steel blade overlaid with inscribed gilt decorated panels at either end and open sections along the blade. The faceted waisted hilt of a spinach green jade comes with carved floral detail to upper and lower edge either side.

The top features further carved detail and inset coral. The inscriptions on the blade read, on one side ‘Work of Dimashq (?) … the year [1]147 (1734-5)’, and the remaining inscription are mainly undeciphered, except for the word “al-sayf” (the sword); and on the other side undeciphered Arabic inscriptions, also containing the word “al-sayf”.

Source: Copyright © 2017 Bonhams

#blades cw #tools of the trade #seven queues in an elf costume