Hello! Could you do LI react to the Inquisitor collapsing because of stress?
Hello everyone! This is Inquisitor First-Thaw with the absolutely incredible work of a potential new mod!I wanted to hear from our followers on whether you want more of their work as an official mod, so like this or send in an ask saying if you want them on the team or not. I know I sure do!
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Cassandra:She is at his side in a heartbeat, and Maker defend any who stand in her way. Her first fear is that it is an injury gone unnoticed, or some poison working implacably through him. There are so many people who mean him ill, who mean him harm, and it’s not the first time she has had to close the eyes of someone she loved because she was not fast enough to save them.
But he is still breathing, still by her side, and when the healers diagnose simple stress the Seeker is both relieved and determined. A great deal lies on his shoulders, and though she would be willing not all the duties can be shared. But she takes on what can be given, and before they return to the field they have a long talk.
“I am with you, my love. You do not fight alone.”
Solas:Healer he may be, and with the practice of centuries beneath his belt, but when his Vhen’an goes down Solas is –for only a moment- stricken with fear. He catches her close to his chest, the glow of his magic illuminating shadows carved deep under her eyes, and steadies her when the flagging energy is slowly restored.
“There, you are well. Lean on me, Vhen’an—you must eat and rest. Others will finish here.”
Blackwall:Maker, he dies a thousand death between seeing her knees buckle and his arms taking her weight. It’s too much on her, and the steady gaze of a veteran soldier has no trouble spotting the exhaustion. Too many long nights at the war tabe, too little sleep and not enough food that can be eaten in the saddle. She is stretching herself thin, trying to save everyone, and if he was not so very worried the sentiment would make him smile.
“Easy, love, lean back a minute. Let the healers look over you—the it’s sleep and hot food to set you right.”
Sera: She doesn’t panic. Anyone who says she panicked when her Honeytongue slid off the roof into one of the tavern’s riotous hydrangea bushes is a lying nob whose due an arrow. She certainly didn’t go taring to the tavern, screeching for Stitches to abandon the Charger’s corner table and then proceed to wrap her Inqy in every blanket Skyhold had on offer when it was deemed that their herald needed only rest. It’s all lies, and no one can prove differently.
Dorian:It’s almost rote by now, watching the slowed step, the initial sway before knees gave out and the subject collapsed. Dorian had turned it into almost an art form In Tevinter, for Felix seemed to find it a habit to collapse at least once a month. The necromancer was ready for that, ready for the symptoms of the Blight to overtake his friend.
He isn’t ready to catch his Amatus in a similar swoon, and there is considerably more concern as mages with more healing art than himself look over the savior of the south. When it is decided that the fall was only stress and not some obscure assassination attempt Dorian is more than capable of taking command and locking the world outside of the Inquisitor’s chambers.
“Let the Orlesians stew; it’s good for them. The Malificar Imperio may be propaganda of the highest form, but I think you will enjoy the part about Tevinter’s more….mature rituals.”
Cullen:He is a commander, and before that captain and soldier and older brother in their turns. He knows the signs of an overwrought mind- faces some of those signs in the mirror- and so when the woman who has seen past his faults and his mistakes wavers on her feet he is more than ready. Any argument is ignored as he carries her to the healers, and though the news that she is overexerting herself comes as some relief it still must be dealt with.And if the best way to do that is to put aside his duties for a scant few hours and hold her as she sleeps, well. He will make that sacrifice a thousand times over.
Josephine:She flutters. It’s not something she is proud of, and if it had been a noble or a servant or anyone but her love she might have handled it better. But it isn’t, and she flutters anxiously over them until the healers arrive, and even more so after they leave. Plying them with water and food and as many creature comforts as she can make them accept.And when they are finally resting comfortably she spends the rest of the night working to delegate the tasks that does not require their herald’s direct influence. She cannot fight by their side, but Josephine Montiliyet weilds a pen like a sword, and will cut away what she can until they are well.
Bull: Stress is a strange thing. Everyone reacts differently to it, has some different way of coping, but in the end mind will always win over matter. The Ben Hassrath have perfected the art of stressors, of pushing the body and mind to the breaking point, and it’s a little known truth of just how quickly exhaustion will wear down a soul that has endured worse.
And his eye is keener than most. He sees the cracks as they form, sees the shaking hands and dropping head and how their shoulder grow weak under the burden of command. And he has the training- both in the Qun and without- to intercede when they need it. Whether it’s food or rest, or other more carnal needs, Bull is ready to divert this particular disaster.
“Nothing good comes from working till you drop, Kadan. You tell me next time it gets this bad— I’m right here.”