allthisshitisweird | Darkest Timeline AU Flashback Meme

Darkest Timeline AU Flashback Meme

DARKEST TIMELINE AU FLASHBACK MEME

Did you work out something for your character's darkest timeline AU that you love so much it would be an absolute crime not to be able to write it out for real? WHAT LUCK! This meme is here for all your flashback-from-the-future needs. It's also the place to display sad single-character vignettes, letters that were never sent to dead friends, and anything else your dastardly little heart desires. Go forth and suffer.

The contents of this meme do not count for AC. For AC, you must participate in the real logs for the event, which will take place in Cloudreach 9:48, or else continue your normal non-event RP in the present (Guardian 9:43). However, you can count log threads in this meme toward your rewards points for the month.

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"That I'd throw myself into wholeheartedly. Whatever the odds, she needs to go down. Thedas may be fucked, but we can still take her with us." At this point, she's of the mind that the only thing that matters is how spitefully they end it. And the Vashoth mage has enough spite to go around, in spades.

[ he makes a soft noise of consideration. there's a rustle of some sort, some shift of movement. wherever he is, he's relaxing. ]

You needn't spar with him. But he is skilled enough. He will not offer criticism?

[ they're all living on top of one another, and underground too-- it would drive thranduil mad, and besides that, he will not risk those he cares about, full aware he could be a target.

his change in tone matches hers, amused: ]

Ah. Does she bite?

At length.

( not a complaint. guilfoyle is the reason she's alive today; gwenaëlle is neither stupid nor ungrateful. that she didn't die shortly after her father, between his actions and the anchor-shard in her hand, is nothing short of a small miracle.

but she hasn't wasted it. the sabine comment gets a sharp laugh - )

You'd have to ask Alistair these days. She used to.

Edited 2017-01-29 22:17 (UTC)

He doesn't quite smile, but his expression is warmer. It's been so long, and sometimes reminders are pleasant things.

"Come in." He waits for the other mage to leave before even thinking her name; with no idea what she's been up to he doesn't want to risk compromising anything. Then he's moving around and pulling out a chair before offering a hand, missing two fingers. Odds are she's not here to kill him, and paranoia is exhausting so he's choosing to relax.

"You look as well as anyone could hope, Gwen. Welcome. Can I get you... We've water, and I believe there's some assorted nuts that were just roasted yesterday." There's not much, but they have supplies coming in this evening. No one's starving just yet.

He nods slowly.

"My first, the first man, at least, was kind. Careful, despite how we had to rush in the Circle for fear of being caught. Outside some of my experiences were... less patient. But as I've had the ability to set someone on fire for as long as I've been sexually active, it's balanced out." He's glossing over a lot, but thankfully he'd been lucky in the Circles. None of the Templars had tried that particular form of assault.

Anders sighs. "So we're both better on this path, despite, despite all it entails. We're alive, and we'd the opportunity to make these choices."

It has been a few days since the song began, though Nathaniel has said nothing of it to anyone. Anders may note, however, that Nathaniel has seemed to be in pain--something no longer such a trouble since coming underground, because the barometric pressure changes so little. In their little house--a tiny stone thing they were permitted to take over--he is getting ready, putting on clothes and armor so he can head to the perimeter and work.

Without thinking, because it is difficult to think now, he is humming. Humming the tune Anders heard once, years ago, when it was Corypheus who sang it.

Edited 2017-01-29 22:50 (UTC)

You know what? Rydia wouldn't care to be hunted right now: she never asked to be in Thedas and she's not going to hide in a corner just waiting for someone to kill her- even if she's probably going to look for some dyes to hide her color, keeping the hair short won't help her hide them forever. And... who can really smile in those times? The summoner tries her best in front of the few she almost lives with now but beside that.

"Until it's gone and after." She pauses, sighing and shaking her head, how could things go so wrong? "And... I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now. He was my friend too." Years ago she would have been unable to do anything, still too stuck with her ideals of friendship and love- but the world outside the FEymarch is real and Rydia finally adapted to it.

"We sho-" the summoner goes silent when she realizes someone is approaching, her hand closes around the handle of her whip and the other one grabs one of the many vials she keeps hidden under her brown cloak. False alarm, she can recognize that man... Anders, wasn't it?

"Glad to see you're still alive." considering how many people have been buried, Rydia treasures every meeting with everyone she met in the good old days of Skyhold- but there's no time for little talks or greetings, even because- Kain is there. The summoner doesn't look away, repeating herself that it's no longer him, the human kid sometimes she adressed as 'child' or 'kid'- he's dead and now it's time to take down his shell.

Being limited in terms of magic forced her to learn how to create her own potions and she travels with a good supply wherever she goes: a Mighty Offence tonic (Thedas names, ugh...) goes down her throat and two Rock Armor ones are tossed in her allies's direction with a "Drink this!". From the clinging that can be heard whenever she moves it's clear she still has more stuff with her but for now she starts with a simple and pure offensive beginning the cast of a firaga.Thank gods that world has fire magic, at least.

The man that steps forward seems to be fond of wearing darker things. Dark leathers, dark gloves that cover his hands - even the brown hair that's been pulled back is being held in place with a dark strip of cloth. But for the moment, there's a flicker of something lighter to be seen in all that darkness, although it's coming from a face that's no-longer clean shaven, the beard hiding some scars that weren't there a few years ago. It's a crooked smile, slightly lopsided just like it always used to be back before things went bad...and maybe the warmth that's in the perhaps-familiar brogue is the same as it used to be, as well.

"Depends on how you feel about having those efforts undertaken by an old friend."

"You're telling me." Some days she wonders that too. It is hard to play the other side and witness everything from what, to some, is considered the winning side of this war. It was equally hard to sit in camp and listen to the horror stories, to take part in her own horror stories out there on the field and in cities.

She eyes the salve for a moment before waving it off with a slow movement of her hand. As much as it would be welcomed right now to easy the pain, it wouldn't be good of her to show back up at camp without something to show for her absence in the field.

"I'll be fine. Your lot didn't mess me up too badly." She says, leaning back against the rocky wall behind her with a hum. "Besides... it would just be awkward for me to fumble around with this thing."

And by thing she, of course, means the stump of what remains of her left arm. It isn't something she enjoys drawing attention toward but it is done with more humor these days. She listens quietly to his words, humming and tapping her foot.

"It is a shipment of something but not slaves. The rumor of slaves was to get yours and others out of the woodwork, lead you into a trap. The only thing waiting in those wagons are Reds and Vint mages."

Weary on her end but thankfully clearheaded, Korrin responds because...well, why not. A conversation that isn't about how everything's going tits-up would be a nice change.

"Eh, gold is heavy and soft. If you're going to get an arm, it might as well be something you can effectively punch someone else with and not have to repair. Maybe just gold-tinted? Though something like obsidian or bloodstone would look way more badass."

"Because running around with a bonus rifter who could get you into even more trouble is a great idea," Waver said dryly, coming to lean in the doorway. His arms were folded across his chest, his hair pulled back into a braid, the rest of him caked in dust from the road.

"But I would like to help, if you think that there would be a way for remote assistance."

Waver had decided that remaining within Orzammar, save needed excursions out was the key to his own safety. But that also meant that he felt himself going stir crazy, and desired nothing more than multiple ways to distract himself, as well as help.

"I just got in from running something with Iskandar, sorry I'm tracking crap in."

Cade is good at staying in the background of people's lives. If he were the kind of person who tells other people his problems without prompting, perhaps he'd be in a better place; but he isn't, and he's not.
Ever since he began ingesting the red lyrium-- being force-fed it, having it shot into his veins against his will, burning, chapping his throat, making his vision red-- he has felt a new degree of helplessness. It was only recently that he's been released back to Beleth, to protect her, and he hasn't said a word of it to her. How, when he takes a break, he'll be compelled to report back to the ones holding his leash and succumb again to his addiction.
And in exchange, he must tell them everything Beleth has done today, everything she's said to him, everything she's written.

He cried the first few times, begging to be killed rather than forced to live this heresy and betrayal. Beleth saved his life, and now he sells hers out on a daily basis. On a deep internal level, he knows that this is the best chance she has; that if it were someone else in charge of her, they might be more actively cruel, might take advantage of her, torture her, any number of things that can befall a small woman imprisoned by men in armor. So he keeps himself alive that she might live another day, and one as peaceful as possible.

He can feel the wrongness in his body, growing larger every day, overtaking his thoughts with a song not unlike the one he used to hear, but more ....aggressive. There's never a quiet moment anymore, even when nothing around him is making noise.
When Beleth smiles at him, Cade tries to smile back. He used to be better at it--trying, that is-- and now he tends to just look at her, his eyes tired and worried and red with sleeplessness and the insidious, creeping magic. On some level, he's glad she's glad to see him. She is the least painful element in his life.

The tune Nate's humming is familiar and Anders doesn't pay attention at first as he laces up his boots, just glancing over with a small smile. It's a few moments later, as he's standing up, that it hits him and he freezes, looking back over at Nate. He doesn't want to ask. He wants to ignore this and pretend everything's fine. For several moments he wonders if he can just ignore it and act like he'd heard nothing, but that's not fair to anyone.

And so, heart falling in his chest, Anders sinks down to sit back on the bed before looking at his hands and speaking quietly. "You're humming."

It's hard not to lean into the touch. Christine has always been grateful there were those willing to be close to her, and as a Circle mage, she's sure Inessa would understand more than most how touch-starved they could be. But now Christine needs to break with everyone so they don't end up like her. She savors the touch for what it is, knowing this will be one of the last times she'll feel such a thing. It will be one of the last physical things she feels that isn't pain.

"Perhaps there is nothing than can be done after all. The red lyrium has won."

Nathaniel doesn't realize it until Anders mentions. That's when the music stops, his breath hitches, and he wonders how long Anders has known. If he only just realized, how much Nathaniel would have preferred him to find out some other way. His eyes close briefly.

"Of course. I'm sorry." A moment of denial while Nathaniel pretends the humming alone was what Anders heard, not the song. But Anders' posture indicates otherwise. Nathaniel hesitates, then wraps his arms around him as tightly as he can.

"It's all right," he whispers. "I'll be fine. And so will you."

He clings more than he hugs, holding tight to his partner. They'd always had a limited time, they'd known it, but it isn't until now that it sinks in. He's going to lose Nate. He's going to lose Nate soon.

It's not all right, it won't be fine, and Anders chokes back the argument because he doesn't want to fight. "I... How long? Why didn't you, why didn't you say?" His voice breaks on the last word despite how he's fighting to hold himself together. He can't lose Nate.

"Just a few days." He plants a few kisses on that golden temple. "Just a few days. There's no telling how long we have."

He knows it's easier for him, that he will be the first to go. It's much worse to be the one being left behind.

There's no telling which means it could be as short as a few days, and Anders can't even keep the promise he'd made to himself so long ago, that if Nate heard his Calling first Anders would go alongside him. They're at war, and so many people hang in the balance.

"I can't do this without you. I can't do any of it without you." The words are selfish but he wouldn't take them back even if he could. "How do I... I can't. I can't."

Gentle hands cup Anders' face.

"Yes you can," Nathaniel whispers. "You can do anything. You are the man I married. You can do whatever you set your mind to. And I'm going nowhere, for a while. I can bear the song for a time yet. I won't leave you."

Anders looks up, feeling the weakest he's felt in so long. Being with Nate had given him so much strength and confidence, because Nate had so much faith in him.

"You..." Words fail him, and he buries his face against Nate's neck. "Tell me? When it's building to too much. Some warning, or something, or anything." No warning would be enough. Only a cure would, and now it's too late. He should have worked harder on a cure before, should have done a thousand things earlier, but since he can't undo that, at least he can make this time count.

"Stay here today? Stay with me for the day? Please?"

For a moment, Nathaniel is torn between love and duty. People need him at the perimeter--or else, they do not. Optimistically, they can manage one day without him. Especially when he is distracted as he is. No, this is a choice of the heart, a choice of what he will regret the least if he were to die tomorrow.

He leans in and presses his lips to Anders'. "All right. All right, I will stay today."

There are potions to make and messages to send, but he needs this day as well. Just the one, he reminds himself, it wouldn't be right to ask for more, but this one he can treasure. Anders kisses back slowly, taking his time. This is what they have.

He reaches down to unlace his boots before kicking them off, returning his arms to being around Nate right away.

"I still remember the day you dropped me, you know. The most handsome man in Amaranthine, deliberately choosing not to have me in his arms. You'd standards, then."

Later, when the corruption begins to spread, Inessa might realize how much it meant in hindsight. Before the world went to hell, she had denied any touch-starved sentiment and cherished her personal space, the invasion of it often setting her ill at ease. But as those closest to her left or died, she's slowly coming to see how important such gestures can be. When it's her turn, there will be no one.

"It truly has, and damned the world with it.

...what will you do? Where will you go?"

"Jamie." There's a great deal of warmth in his voice in return as he gets up from his seat and crosses the distance, holding a hand out for a shake and the other arm out in case he wants a hug.

"I'm glad to see you." He has a mental list of Rifters he's been worried about, and Jamie's high up on it. "And you'd be welcome."

"They've had quite a lot of fighting of their own to deal with. These monsters are leaving nowhere untouched." All of that is at least true, since Kain still does hear from them. Though letters are more sporadic lately. There's just too much to deal with, everywhere, too much chaos and fighting.

Kain sighs. He knows that Inessa worries, and that's why he can't bring himself to tell her the truth. That red lyrium had embedded itself deep within him... he'd managed to pull it out on his own, but by then the damage was done, and some shard of it had to have remained inside him. Perhaps he'll tell her when the day comes when he does have to leave. He can't burden her with his impending death, or with what must be done to ensure he doesn't become a monster. He's planning to take care of that himself. When the time comes. It feels closer with every day that passes.

"I guess I can't argue with you." He doesn't have the energy to argue, and it shows. He feels so weak. "As for those reports... I've heard. Is it true she's speaking out against us? The very order who she once helped to form? What could have gotten into her head?"

Edited 2017-01-30 06:56 (UTC)

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Darkest Timeline AU Flashback Meme

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