Thread: ≒ To the Scar in the Sky We March | Dragon Age Inquisition | sixlikesgore. ≓

RE To the Scar in the Sky We March Dragon Age Inquisition with sixlikesgore. If not for the entirely too enticing skirmish breaking out upon the sea's bank, Leila would've definitely gushed over her name. Cassandra Pentaghast, the Seeker with a stick up her ass, calling her anything but You or Inquisitor? There was hope for this woman yet! But, as the battle seemed to be going in favor of the mercenaries, she would have hated to miss out on the fun. Last one to lay low a Venatori is a rotten pig! That was about as close to an order as Cassandra was ever going to get from her. The rogue's form blurring, stepping into stealth even as she charged, the very edge of a barrier catching her form before she'd ran too far. A single bolt pierced the air besides her, darting ahead even faster - she rode behind the arrow, her twin daggers biting into the Spellbinder's back even as Varric's Long Shot shattered the man's barrier. My kill She chimed, blowing a raspberry at her favorite crossbow-wielder, before melding into the shadows once more. If the tides of battle were slightly in the favor of the mercenaries before, then their arrival might as well been a tsunami that all but swept the Venatori away. As she disposed of her last prey - twin slashes through the man's throat from behind, vivid arcs of sanguine splashing forward as if a pretty fountain in her father's courtyard - Leila was almost disappointed to find that no enemies remained. A disappointment short-lived as she soon found the next most amusing thing to train her attention on. Chargers, stand down! The baritone voice might as well have been a war-horn, such was the commanding presence behind the voice, a command all the mercenaries seemed to obey, sheathing their swords. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the man whose voice rang above all others, those pretty silvers widening in surprise upon seeing this huge Quanari standing there. The rain poured over his muscular frame, every pale scar littering his form seemed to glisten, his ashen gray skin contrasted by those charcoal horns. Giant fucking horns. Damnnn , the rogue thought, letting the blood clean her daggers before sheathing them. If her training dummies had looked anything like this, she definitely would have paid a lot more attention while being taught about the varying muscle groups. Because holy shit, he was ripped. That's what I like to hear. Let the Throatcutters finish up then break out the casks. The Quanari did not address their group right away, choosing instead to speak to his lieutenant, the one that had visited Haven prior. His booming voice continued, even as those surprisingly pale green eyes, a shade almost gentle if not set under those prominent brow bones, surveyed the scene. Leila skipped over, finding herself needing to look up - she wasn't even short, but Iron Bull was just...wow! I hope you are breaking out the good stuff She echoed, her lip quirking, indicating her interest. So, you are with the Inquisition huh? His amusement colored his words as he gazed down at the human female, but his words were polite, as was his nod of acknowledgment. Come on, take a seat, drinks are coming. At this range, she could see even more scars, on his high cheekbone, his forehead, even one breaking the continuity of his mustache. Surprisingly though, the scars didn't take away from him. If anything, they only made him seem more masculine, more intriguing. Her silvers kept flitting back to his horns - she reaaaally wanted to try hanging off of those. But she kept that innocent desire under lids, for now. She hated to get chewed out by Cassandra again, and, as the glance behind her revealed, the rest of her party was closing in. Nice horns, Iron Bull. She sing-songed, not even asking whether that was his name, but judging from his laugh, she presumed correctly. You can call me Leila, or, the girl with the freaky glowing green hand, if you preferred. Gesturing behind her, she pointed to the rest of her party members, indicating that they would be joining this discussion as well. Meet my humble party, an elven mage, a dwarf obsessed with his crossbow, a pause, smirking as flourished with her hands, as though to herald someone of great importance, and of course Lady Seeker, 78th in line for the Nevarran throne, Right Hand of the Divine and-- She skipped a few steps to the right, making sure she was well out of Cassandra's range. I'm just kidding. They can introduce themselves.