spicyshimmy:

royalazure:

Assassin!Anders, for art trade with jambandit.
I’m so sorry it took me forever, I’m really really really sorry.
Also I don’t know how to draw fire and feathers, I hope Anders doesn’t look too weird and I hope you’ll like it c:.

fire and feathers
Hawke had not considered it was a city of chains until they took his father away in them—bound tight around his wrists, the last time he would ever see his winking smile behind a beard hinted through with gray.
Mother was never the same after that.
Food lost its taste. Pleasure, its meaning. All the pretty skirts and perfumed wrists no longer had color or scent; the softest skin may as well have been made of crackled leather.
‘You,’ his favorite pirate said, ‘are no fun at all anymore.’
Yet he was still more fun than the average citizen. And better dressed, better groomed, and better conversation. 
He considered climbing onto her boat when she sailed from port that autumn, filling his lungs with the same winds that filled her sails. But he did not, and she kissed him goodbye very deeply, and the rooftops were all the same as the sewers. High or low, daytime or nighttime, he could not find it in his heart to seek revenge, only reckless coin, and then he did not know what to buy with it.
It was enough for his freedom. But that was all.
‘Don’t worry about me, brother,’ Bethany told him from behind her ledger. ‘I’m making quite enough on my own—and none of the templar guard would close down the Rose for any reason. You know how often they come here.’
‘As often as I do?’ Hawke asked.
‘Very nearly,’ Bethany replied.
Ah, but there had been dreams, once. Ribbons and imagined adventures, all the stars on the backs of his eyes when he closed them. Heat from the festival bonfires and cold, wet snow when it fell from the sky. 
He wandered the streets, chasing a single pebble. With each kick it skittered across the cobblestones until, quite by accident, it bounced off a near corner and disappeared with a chittering laugh into the darkness of a door with a guttering lantern above it in the building’s eves. 
Then came fire. 
‘I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation,’ a low voice called over the hot flame. ‘Why do you threaten it?’
‘Ah, yes,’ Hawke replied. ‘I launched a full assault on your fortifications with a deadly pebble.’ 
The man before him wore a sash. It was red. There was a gold belt of studded leather and he was both shadow and light. Not that they were the same; they were at war with one another, the white hood and feathered pauldron and his golden hair. Hawke shaded his eyes from the fire and felt, for the first time in many months, true heat and true sight. 

spicyshimmy:

royalazure:

Assassin!Anders, for art trade with jambandit.

I’m so sorry it took me forever, I’m really really really sorry.

Also I don’t know how to draw fire and feathers, I hope Anders doesn’t look too weird and I hope you’ll like it c:.

fire and feathers

Hawke had not considered it was a city of chains until they took his father away in them—bound tight around his wrists, the last time he would ever see his winking smile behind a beard hinted through with gray.

Mother was never the same after that.

Food lost its taste. Pleasure, its meaning. All the pretty skirts and perfumed wrists no longer had color or scent; the softest skin may as well have been made of crackled leather.

‘You,’ his favorite pirate said, ‘are no fun at all anymore.’

Yet he was still more fun than the average citizen. And better dressed, better groomed, and better conversation. 

He considered climbing onto her boat when she sailed from port that autumn, filling his lungs with the same winds that filled her sails. But he did not, and she kissed him goodbye very deeply, and the rooftops were all the same as the sewers. High or low, daytime or nighttime, he could not find it in his heart to seek revenge, only reckless coin, and then he did not know what to buy with it.

It was enough for his freedom. But that was all.

‘Don’t worry about me, brother,’ Bethany told him from behind her ledger. ‘I’m making quite enough on my own—and none of the templar guard would close down the Rose for any reason. You know how often they come here.’

‘As often as I do?’ Hawke asked.

‘Very nearly,’ Bethany replied.

Ah, but there had been dreams, once. Ribbons and imagined adventures, all the stars on the backs of his eyes when he closed them. Heat from the festival bonfires and cold, wet snow when it fell from the sky. 

He wandered the streets, chasing a single pebble. With each kick it skittered across the cobblestones until, quite by accident, it bounced off a near corner and disappeared with a chittering laugh into the darkness of a door with a guttering lantern above it in the building’s eves. 

Then came fire. 

‘I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation,’ a low voice called over the hot flame. ‘Why do you threaten it?’

‘Ah, yes,’ Hawke replied. ‘I launched a full assault on your fortifications with a deadly pebble.’ 

The man before him wore a sash. It was red. There was a gold belt of studded leather and he was both shadow and light. Not that they were the same; they were at war with one another, the white hood and feathered pauldron and his golden hair. Hawke shaded his eyes from the fire and felt, for the first time in many months, true heat and true sight. 

234 notes
Posted on Saturday, 13 October
Tagged as: dokidoki  
Reblogged from: zeico
Posted by: royalazure
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  10. ladyartanis reblogged this from dalishmarshmallow and added:
    APOSTASSASSINS. I can see Meredith as Borgia and Varric as La Volpe. BEAUTIFUL FANART IS BEAUTIFUL.
  11. dalishmarshmallow reblogged this from jambandit and added:
    Gorgeous!
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