companion sleepover @ the hawke estate

wilyways ;  
☠ , ♣ //yolos into oblivion
Send ☠ for a threatening message

[ Hawke ] : I have an army at my behest.
[ Hawke ] : And I know where you live.

Send ♣ for a drunk message

[ Hawke ] : Hawke pls aid me.
[ Hawke ] : Turn off th e sun
[ Hawke ] :
Its too blight
[ Hawke ] :
*Bright . thx .

Post-Spar ☀ Sebastian & Zevran ☀ sebastiansvael


sebastiansvael started following you

                                                “Sebastian. You are here to see Hawke, no?”

Zevran is shirtless when he speaks to Sebastian - the question is ridiculous; the pretty prince is in Hawke’s home, and that means he is most certainly here to see her.

Sweat shines on the elf’s body, high-lighting black tattoos designed to accentuate his finest features - his pectorals, swirls that trace about his nipples and trace down his middle, showing over the dip of his hips before disappearing under the fabric of his trousers.

                       ”My apologies for the state of undress - we were sparring, and it was quite exciting, but I am far too hot to put on a shirt as of yet.

                                                             I believe she is bathing for the time being —- she will be half an hour or so, for she takes far too long.”

He lets out a laugh, clever and sharp as he absently polishes a belt buckle emblazoned with the symbol of Antiva.

                                 ”How does this day find you, pretty prince?

                                                                                              Are you well?”

   Sparring? Well, he supposed that made sense. However, he still could not be sceptical when it came to this man. There was a lot of things said of him, and almost all were in the domain of carnal desires. Lips press into each other, closing his eyes for but a moment, regaining his wit and his thoughts. He’s grateful for the ease into conversation. 

      “I’m more than fine, Zevran. Though a little left out in the concerns and problems
        which our Hawke is beneficial in,” 

   He chuckles, his tone light and hardly of the complaining sort. Sebastian crosses his arms, frost blue eyes drawn to that of which Zevran held in his hands that sparks intrigue and curiousity, tilting his head to put it in perspective as he looks without shying away, for all men are made of flesh and bone. This was something not to be embarrassed about

      “Is that tattoo similar to that of the Dalish’s tattoo’s, if you don’t mind my asking?”



    “Of course you aren’t, there’s just that worried look on your face.”

"And I had hoped it wouldn’t show."

    { He’s staring at his attempt to cook for himself. Everything’s burnt and
      nothing looks like actual food.



people need to learn to specify because if you just tell me to draw a character you end up with this. take this as a cautionary tale.

anyways, just a little rendition of the first time u meet sebastian. yes exactly how it happened.

antivandelight ;  
"I like when you smile."

   He’s flattered far too easily, a fact that is easily given away as blood creeps up his neck and colours the visage of a humble and embarrassed face. Yet, he smiles anyway, showing gratitude and nodding his head once in appreciation. It’s not often that he’s complimented and it’s a welcome surprise from anyone. However, he was still not adept at handling these situations as eloquently as he liked. 
                       ”I pray that the maker sees it fit to keep it that way,
                         Zevran. I also hope for the same for you, as well.”


"Serannas, Sebastian I will remember that. I’ve still never been in the Chantry, I might do the wrong thing."

"Nonsense. But perhaps, you’ll be more comfortable
  elsewhere, then? I’m not always found in the Chantry, you know.”



     ”——That’s disgusting.”

      “Is it really? I had followed what was written in the book.. but I
        suppose they do look a bit … overcooked.”
   { Overcooked? Try burnt.



             “— bad whiskey.”

      “I had never thought taste was something that was filtered
        through one’s senses when one partook in their drinking?”