Portrait of the Artist as a Young Wench, for yarnandtea
yarnandteaisallineed answered: Isabela thinking about her various DAII companions in the privacy of her own room? ^_^
Isabela took a sip from her stein, and tapped her quill on the table.
“Well, what do we have here?” the sultry pirate purred, strutting towards her helpless prey.
Yes, what do we have here? Or more to the point, who do we have here?
“Untie me, wench,” the lyrium tattooed elf snarled, his whipcord muscles bulging as he struggled against his bondage.
Isabela shook her head and crossed out the passage. As much as the image (both mental and otherwise) of Fenris bound tightly in rope aroused her, she’d already used him in her last three stories, the last of which hadn’t sold anywhere near as well as the first two. The horny housewives of Hightown were fickle in their fetishes, it seemed.
“Unhand me, whore.”
Nah. Anyone who knew Aveline knew she’d just bash her way out of any situation. Besides, Isabela was saving her for a fic with Donnic. It was quite rare for Isabela’s OTP to be canon, and she was enjoying the novelty.
“THIS IS AN INJUSTICE.”
Pfft. Writing Anders hadn’t been any fun since the Ella incident. Ella had escaped unscathed, thank fuck, but since then Isabela had very much moved Anders from her “sexy rebellious angst” box to her “scary best avoided” box. It was one of the great regrets of her life - that electricity trick, damn. (Isabela briefly considered putting Ella in the chair - she was super cute - but, with vivid memories of being a child-bride, she preferred the characters in her fantasies to be at least The Gentleman’s Age.)
“The Maker’s light protects me, pirate.”
Oh yes. Prrrrrotects. Pirrrrrate. Isabela even got a fair bit written with that one. It was so inspiring that she ducked into her bunk, and when she got back, she remembered that Sebastian fic sold really, really badly. She folded up her paper and kept it for later “inspiration”.
Varric was off the table. As much as Isabela enjoyed running her toes through that spectacular pelt, as a competitor, she didn’t want to give him the free advertising.
“Untie me or by the Maker I’ll show you the might of the Templars.”
Carver! Yes, she could definitely work with this.
The muscular young Templar struggled against his bonds, red welts on tender pale skin, flashing blue eyes furious as his rippling muscles sajdfksd;djfaj
Well. She was having fun, even if it wasn’t very productive.
“Are we playing a game?” inquired the elf, huge green eyes bulging as she took in her surroundings. “Because, um, the ropes are squishing me a little. Could you just pull them a bit loose?”
“What’s the safe word?” demanded the pirate, tilting the elf’s delicate chin to better appreciate her delicate features.