stormscoming-blog
and this is not our fate
[indie dragon age two-character rp blog written by Sara]
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Cora normally requires apprentices to share rooms, allowing them to split off into double or single rooms once they’ve passed their Harrowings. It helps with the loneliness and homesickness that comes from being dragged away from family and home. She’s made few exceptions over the years, and usually only for conflicting personalities that couldn’t be settled through other means.
She’s hesitant to separate Saarebas even more. Rumors of a qunari apprentice have undoubtedly already begun to spread, and assigning her her own room wouldn’t do much to help her with adjusting or finding friends. But perhaps forcing the socialization wouldn’t help either.
Nodding, Cora makes her decision. “Yes. The room will be yours.” They have the space, and Cora’s first priority is getting Saarebas to trust her (and giving the girl a decent meal). Maybe then they can work on the rest.
Hearing someone else say the…name… brings back memories, and the puckered scars around her lips, still nearly fresh, barely finished closing up, sting violently. She’s not sure she likes hearing the name. But not all truth is happiness.
Sataareth Saarebas watches the Templar pass the bundle to Cora. It takes a few seconds to register that those are, in fact, clothes meant for her. Would she have to wear a dress, like the rest of these mages? She glances down at her mud-stained shoes and pants, rips patched and sewn over and over again, the colors faded from a long year under the sun and in the storms.
Perhaps replacing these rags would be best.
She nods sullenly to Cora’s suggestion, as if she has a choice. “This room is… mine?” she asks.
A fantasy of never leaving, of locking herself inside and sitting in silence until she sees what Ashkaari Koslun saw in the desert unfolds in her mind, even as her stomach rumbles. She scowls down at it through the blankets at the traitor.
#ic | cora#ic | cora | sataareth#verse | if i had a voice i would sing#[[sorry it took me ages to get back to this! last week was a disaster]]
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@katadesis [continued from this]
The Chantry will come for her one day, of this Cora is certain. Casira’s words are true, but the goodness of that fact would undoubtedly be outweighed by her means: the last time she gave any Chantry or Templar rule serious consideration, she was still young enough to bear children.
Cora sighs and busies herself with the tea.
“Don’t think for a moment I am not proud of that,” she says, turning back to Casira while the water boils. “But there is a cost.”
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Appley Tower, Isle of Wight
Instagram VSCO Grid Tumblr
lillyhusbandsphotography.com
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Tyler Forest-Hauser
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11 for Edward, 10 and 15 for Cora!
from here | accepting
11. How much faith do they have in their justice system? Are they idealistic about it? [Edward]
He starts off with a lot of idealistic faith that the Templars are a pure and just cause. That goes downhill pretty quickly, but in general - yes, he has faith in the Thedas justice system as a whole. Like with Cora, that faith gets pretty well gutted with what happens with Ariadne (though perhaps his less so than that of the two women).
10. Do they take pride in their work or is it just a routine? [Cora]
Cora definitely takes pride in what she does, even if it’s just a routine. Some parts of the routine - like putting her hair up in a bun or putting on robes - aren’t particularly pride-worthy, but the way she interacts with her mages, the plans she has for the system, she takes pride in all of that even if it’s daily work.
15. If made to choose between their family’s desires and their own, which would they choose? [Cora]
Her own. Cora’s so far removed from her family at this point in her life, that “my family’s desires” to her have about as much weight as “the desires of some people I vaguely know.” If their desires conflicted with hers or were otherwise mutually-exclusive, she would definitely choose her own without even a second thought to it. The only thing that might make her think twice about it is if there was the possibility that her family could be physically hurt or injured by the situation.
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[wacky work week, wacky life week, plus I have to unexpectedly take cat to the vet - he should be fine but I’m a worried cat parent - etc etc;
will pick up various threads when I can later this week, and also hopefully be able to start plotting/writing with some of you this weekend!]
#!! ooc#also why'd a whole bunch of random people find that Ostwick insp image post I reblogged?#how did you people get to that post you are not RP blogs
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Hans Hermann Eschke - Lighthouse on a Cliff by Moonlight
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Jan Erik Waider | Website - Along The Coast, Norway
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Chris Moody
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Do not mistake me for my mask. You see light dappling on the water and forget the deep, cold dark beneath.
from The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss (via judexcrederis)
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by Alexander
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in their blood, the Maker’s will is written
Ostwick’s First Enchanter and Knight-Commander, indie Dragon Age RP
#maybe some day i will color this; today is not that day#because my entire upper body is mad at me for spending several hours in a row on this and i have to be done for the sake of my arm#dragon age rp#!! promo#!! my art#(still a bit *breaks pencil* about edward's chin but if i continue to fuss with it i may actually go mad)#but now that i've got both cora's and edward's bios written i can actually start this thing properly! \o/
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1, 7, 11, and 12 for cora
1. In regards to leadership: does a leader owe their loyalty to the people, or do the people owe their loyalty to them?
A leader owes their loyalty to their people. If she doesn’t show them that she cares, that she respects them, how can Cora expect anyone to follow her?
7. What matters more: accomplishing a goal, or the process of accomplishing a goal?
Accomplishing the goal. Cora knows the political environment of Thedas, she knows that she’s in it for the long haul. How she gets there isn’t important, what’s important is that she gets there at all.
11. How much faith do they have in their justice system? Are they idealistic about it?
Her idealism about the Thedas justice system, about the Templars and the Seekers and rights of mages being at all listened to, is chipped away little by little as she grows up and learns more about how the world really works for her people. She has even less faith in the system after what happens to Ariadne.
12. If allowed to travel to a single place in the world, with no repercussions, where would they go?
She’d like to go home to Orlais, to see her sisters. Her parents died a while ago, but she’d like to see Eleanor and Nathalie again, maybe walk through the vineyards a bit. She hasn’t been back since the Templars took her away at fourteen, and it would probably be more than a little strange, but she would like the chance to hug and speak with her sisters again, and see her childhood home.
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Character Development Q’s
Send a number from 1-15 to see what the muse thinks about the subject.
In regards to leadership: does a leader owe their loyalty to the people, or do the people owe their loyalty to them?
Marriage; How important is it to them?
If given a choice between saving the life of one person, or saving the life of many, what would they choose? How would they feel about it?
What is their opinion on fights? Can personal issues be solved better through diplomacy, or through violence?
How superstitious are they? Are there any particular rituals that they have e.g. knocking on a hotel room door before entering, not going under a ladder etc?
Happy youth or happy old age?
What matters more: accomplishing a goal, or the process of accomplishing a goal?
The “interrupting the wedding vows” question: how selfish are they in regards to their loved ones? If their significant other was getting married, would they gatecrash the wedding?
Material wealth; if it does matter to them, what would they sacrifice for it?
Do they take pride in their work, or is it just a routine?
How much faith do they have in their justice system? Are they idealistic about it?
If allowed to travel to a single place in the world, with no repercussions, where would they go?
Do they believe in an afterlife? The concept of karma?
What is a quote/song lyric that embodies the muse?
If made to choose between their family’s desires and their own, which would they choose?
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Names are tricky things. Her father called her Coralie when she was a child. It was diminutive, cute, fit for a girl of eight. She shed the nickname when she was twelve, insisting that he call her by her proper name, Cora. Two years later, she was led to this very office, and wished so very badly to hear Papa’s voice and Coralie again.
And now, she is solidly, immovably, Cora.
She wonders at girl’s hesitation. Is it fear, not wanting to give a stranger her true name? Or is it uncertainty, unsure of her name in this unfamiliar place?
Either way, Cora very much doubts that the girl’s real name is Saarebas. She knows what the word means. But if it’s what she wishes to be called, Cora will use it.
“Very well, Saarebas.”
The door opens, interrupting anything else she might have said on the matter. A Templar, finally having unearthed some clothes that might have a chance at fitting their new arrival. He hands the folded pile to Cora, and then leaves.
“If you’d like,” Cora says, “we can show you to your room, let you change into something dry and have a bit of a rest before supper.”
Marcus shifts again, and she glares at him over Saarebas’ horns. Before they’re let out into the tower, new apprentices are supposed to have blood drawn for their phylactery. But one thing at a time.
The corner of her mouth quirks up humorlessly, looking more like a grimace. “Learning,” she repeats flatly. “With basvaraad watching.”
Controlling magic, dealing with the Fade – these are things she wants to know, so she can make the dreams stop and the demons leave. But not from here. Not from these Andrastians, whose prophet was a warmonger, not an ashkaari.
But she doesn’t want to learn from the saarebas, either. Her lips tingle at the memory.
The woman’s question makes her freeze again, this time in uncertainty, not fear. “I –” don’t have a name. Sataareth isn’t truly a name. Not hers. It’s stupid, an idea she has been playing pretend with. That’s not who she is – especially not now, in this tower, under the gaze of the basvaraad behind her. “You may call me Saarebas,” she finishes. “That is who I am.”
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[Guess who got around to properly writing up Cora’s bio!]
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Cora watches the young girl cast her eyes around the room in a panic, looking for an escape route. She remembers doing the same thing when she first arrived at Ostwick, Maker, was it really over forty years ago?
It’s a common reaction, the urge to run. Most come to the same conclusion that both of them did: running will end poorly, even if they manage to make it out of the room. But still, some try for it, about one or two a year. Cora’s glad this one hasn’t; it makes her job easier, and shows at least half an ounce of sense.
She’s met a few vashoth before, qunari she’s accidentally crossed paths with on the way to Val Royeaux or Cumberland, but never had the opportunity to really speak with one. Cora wonders how the girl will do with the Chantry. She’s made efforts to diminish the Chantry’s authority here, and removed all but the most fundamental Chantry-mandated lessons. But the Chantry’s influence is still present, and still obvious.
“Learning, mostly,” Cora starts. It’s a rehearsed speech at this point, one she’s given countless times to those who aren’t sure if they’ve been taken to a cold, angry prison, or a prison that’s a bit friendlier. “The Circles are primarily a place of education. We teach how to harness and control magic, and how to safely interact with the Fade. Among other things.”
She pauses, realizing what she should have asked to start with. "What’s your name?”
A sob escapes her before she can stop it, but she catches the rest in her throat. Sataareth doesn’t understand how the Chantries and such worked, but she understands Cora has a commanding posture even when she’s smiling so sadly. And the Templar, shifting around so noisily, he is also to blame.
She casts about desperately for something that will help. Oh, she could probably get the Templar, fry him like fresh dough in his metal armor – but it was Cora who would stop her. And even if she got out of the room, she hadn’t been able to memorize the passages they’d taken her through. These stones were going to be the rest of her life, and her life would be very short. She had run all this way for nothing.
The thought makes her wish she could swim away in her little puddle. She would never see the sea again.
Meraad astaarit. Meraad itwasit. Aban aqun.
The canto comes to mind unbidden… and warm. Her eyes open, tears slowing to a stop. She hadn’t heard anyone speak the Qun in years, but she remembers. The tide rises, the tide falls, the sea remains changeless. If she could not go to the sea, she would become the sea. Moving a thing from one place to another did not change its nature. Shok ebasit hissra.
Asit tal-eb.
Her back straightens slowly, and she inhales. She wipes her wrist against her face, though it was hardly going to help clean up her face. “What –” She pauses, trying to think of the words in Common rather than Qunlat. “What happens here?” she asks, one hand gesturing vaguely to indicate the whole of the tower.
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