Private Character Introduction: Blackwall (Ground Zero Universe)
Sep. 5th, 2015 11:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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fadewalk[OOC: Warning for game spoilers, Dragon Age Final Flight spoilers, and Blackwall-specific spoilers.]
Weisshaupt hadn’t been as cold as he’d expected.
Granted, it was freezing. But from the stories Blackwall’d been expecting his breath to turn to ice and fall out of the air. Instead it was more of a tingling in his nose when he breathed in. A chill that stole into his fingers and toes before he’d notice. It reminded him of Skyhold in that way. But then, most things nowadays did.
There was the Senior Warden who moved like Dorian but spoke like Solas. Swaying hips and confident stares, but nothing came out of her mouth that wasn’t mellow and somehow cryptic. Could sling a pair of daggers like nobody’s business. Which he supposed meant she rather reminded him of Cole as well. Thankfully she couldn’t read minds. He didn’t know if he could stand someone else plucking thoughts out his head.
There was the smell of the stables. Though Weisshaupt had something there that Skyhold never had: Gryphon chicks. Blackwall’d gotten to see them after he’d got through the Joining and they were gorgeous. Well, no, they were ugly as a Pride demon’s arse, but they were perfect for what they were. Bloody live Gryphons. Fantastic.
Then there were the things he wished didn’t remind him. The watery porridge. The steps needed to work a privy on a mountainside. The recruit who he’d’ve sworn was Sera’s brother, if he hadn’t been a dwarf. He’d taken the Joining same time as Blackwall. Hadn’t made it.
Dour thoughts, old man. Blackwall shook himself. No time for woolgathering. He’d volunteered to learn how to take care of the Gryphon chicks and was expected in the newly reopened eyrie. There was constant talk of sending new clutches out to other Warden compounds once this one had grown. Blackwall figured the more he learned the more likely it would be that someday he’d be allowed to care for a clutch himself. He heard that they were already three times the size they were when they’d hatched. The Chamberlain of the Grey was pouring through old records night and day looking for stuff on how to care for the little beggars.
He’d nearly made it to the tower and was thinking about the door frame that needed to be replaced when he was suddenly somewhere else.
Blackwall froze. He was in a stone room now. Cluttered with broken furniture. Only thing intact was a clapboard bunk bed in the corner covered in spider web. Not from giant spiders, Maker be praised, because he didn’t have his sword on him.
Blackwall grabbed up an old chair leg. Better than nothing. He looked between the two doors and when he took a step toward the left one something slid under his foot. A little leather-bound book. He scooped it up and tucked it into his belt before heading to the door.
Weisshaupt hadn’t been as cold as he’d expected.
Granted, it was freezing. But from the stories Blackwall’d been expecting his breath to turn to ice and fall out of the air. Instead it was more of a tingling in his nose when he breathed in. A chill that stole into his fingers and toes before he’d notice. It reminded him of Skyhold in that way. But then, most things nowadays did.
There was the Senior Warden who moved like Dorian but spoke like Solas. Swaying hips and confident stares, but nothing came out of her mouth that wasn’t mellow and somehow cryptic. Could sling a pair of daggers like nobody’s business. Which he supposed meant she rather reminded him of Cole as well. Thankfully she couldn’t read minds. He didn’t know if he could stand someone else plucking thoughts out his head.
There was the smell of the stables. Though Weisshaupt had something there that Skyhold never had: Gryphon chicks. Blackwall’d gotten to see them after he’d got through the Joining and they were gorgeous. Well, no, they were ugly as a Pride demon’s arse, but they were perfect for what they were. Bloody live Gryphons. Fantastic.
Then there were the things he wished didn’t remind him. The watery porridge. The steps needed to work a privy on a mountainside. The recruit who he’d’ve sworn was Sera’s brother, if he hadn’t been a dwarf. He’d taken the Joining same time as Blackwall. Hadn’t made it.
Dour thoughts, old man. Blackwall shook himself. No time for woolgathering. He’d volunteered to learn how to take care of the Gryphon chicks and was expected in the newly reopened eyrie. There was constant talk of sending new clutches out to other Warden compounds once this one had grown. Blackwall figured the more he learned the more likely it would be that someday he’d be allowed to care for a clutch himself. He heard that they were already three times the size they were when they’d hatched. The Chamberlain of the Grey was pouring through old records night and day looking for stuff on how to care for the little beggars.
He’d nearly made it to the tower and was thinking about the door frame that needed to be replaced when he was suddenly somewhere else.
Blackwall froze. He was in a stone room now. Cluttered with broken furniture. Only thing intact was a clapboard bunk bed in the corner covered in spider web. Not from giant spiders, Maker be praised, because he didn’t have his sword on him.
Blackwall grabbed up an old chair leg. Better than nothing. He looked between the two doors and when he took a step toward the left one something slid under his foot. A little leather-bound book. He scooped it up and tucked it into his belt before heading to the door.
