Home is always going to be there. Home is always going to be the dark, the gutters, the places where people don't want to be but end up when there's nowhere else but he got a taste for better and knows that it's not what he means when he says it now.
"And some wanker writes a story and everyone laps it up, kisses his arse while they're at it." Yngvi? Bitter? Perish the thought.
(Trusting someone he knows has a sharper edge is a dangerous thing but his lady hasn't been shy about her opinions or presenting her truths, and nothing can be worse than having to hear about the Tale of the Champion when you were on the side that no one actually talked about, the footnotes that were just exciting filler, as if those people don't have lives too, don't have reasons for doing what they did, as if a hero gets divine right to decide it all.)
There's not a battlemaster to be found here who knows what they're doing with everything and despite not being a warrior, he's fought enough real blood and guts battles to know that much.
Armies break badly. The Inquisition is just one big messy one.
Yngvi laughs or attempts to, he doesn't know what you name the noise that comes out of him. Too aware of what it is, the edge of a ragged wet breath, that his mouth is shaped into a grimace not even having the good grace to be feral. "Isn't that how every story is, we're all what some fuck that abandoned us made us long long long ago, just left us to get on with it and don't come crying."
Dwarves have the Stone (allegedly, Yngvi's probably too tired to fight that battle tonight), humans have the Maker and so do some elves, the rest of the elves have the Creators, Qunari well he doesn't care tonight. Maybe the Avvar ones listen but they're still weird and fuck you over if you don't honour them properly too.
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"And some wanker writes a story and everyone laps it up, kisses his arse while they're at it." Yngvi? Bitter? Perish the thought.
(Trusting someone he knows has a sharper edge is a dangerous thing but his lady hasn't been shy about her opinions or presenting her truths, and nothing can be worse than having to hear about the Tale of the Champion when you were on the side that no one actually talked about, the footnotes that were just exciting filler, as if those people don't have lives too, don't have reasons for doing what they did, as if a hero gets divine right to decide it all.)
There's not a battlemaster to be found here who knows what they're doing with everything and despite not being a warrior, he's fought enough real blood and guts battles to know that much.
Armies break badly. The Inquisition is just one big messy one.
Yngvi laughs or attempts to, he doesn't know what you name the noise that comes out of him. Too aware of what it is, the edge of a ragged wet breath, that his mouth is shaped into a grimace not even having the good grace to be feral. "Isn't that how every story is, we're all what some fuck that abandoned us made us long long long ago, just left us to get on with it and don't come crying."
Dwarves have the Stone (allegedly, Yngvi's probably too tired to fight that battle tonight), humans have the Maker and so do some elves, the rest of the elves have the Creators, Qunari well he doesn't care tonight. Maybe the Avvar ones listen but they're still weird and fuck you over if you don't honour them properly too.