dishonored meme

[wolfofdunwall]

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a dishonored meme

'ever since the empress died, it's been getting darker in dunwall. but it's that moment just before the light goes that matters most of all.'

the isles are caught amid fractious days, and you find yourself living among them. perhaps - probably - you’ve lived here all your life. perhaps you’ve been brought here by some magical means. whatever the case, you’ve made or will make a life among the isles.

if you were born in or around the isles, what’s your lot in life? are you nobility? a person of great means? a member of the city watch? a shipmate? an inventor? perhaps a civilian just trying to make your way through the rat plague. perhaps a thief, a gang member, an assassin. perhaps a witch or a devotee of the outsider, or perhaps an overseer, scourge of the occult.

when you comment, add a little bit about who your character is in the dishonored world. what your occupation is (if you have one), what you think about recent events, what you tend to do with your days. (if you want to give multiple options re: who they are, feel free!)

you might also want to offer some prompts: scenario ideas, picture prompts, quotes, words, whatever you like.

Comments

[wolfofdunwall]

Daud mostly trusts to Oscar's loyalty, though he would hardly blame the boy for turning if the time came. Eventually all leadership is overthrown, and the stronger rise up to take control. It's a fact Daud's accepted for years, though now that the one he'd expected to succeed - expected she'd succeed years from now, when his own strength would be waning - is in exile, he's not sure how to feel about any of this.

And those words. 'Has anything gone wrong.' A question Daud can hardly begin to answer for himself, certainly can't answer in front of any of his assassins. The answer would be too ranging, deeper than he cares to think. So he pulls out a cigarette, lighting it in a practiced motion. Takes a draw.

"No. I would have summoned you if I did."

Really, he doesn't need to flee so far to find silence anymore. Over the past six months, he'd become accustomed to having Billie on his tail, trailing him so keen it could take half an hour or more to lose her. Now that she's gone, there's little risk in keeping closer to base. The other Whalers watch, yes, but theirs is a more distant observation, better satisfied hanging back (then, too, Billie was perhaps the only one he'd have accepted such tailing from).

"We can all use a little quiet."