Dragon Age 2 — Hands
anders’ are soft, the beginnings of calluses that never fully form cresting his palms from years of holding staves and mixing potions. Even though his fingers are long and thin, their tips are blunt, and the joints of his knuckles are thick, like knots in wood. A strange combination of fragile and enduring.
aveline’s are smaller than you’d think; long rough palms with short fingers. Every bit of them looking as sturdy as the woman to whom they belong. They’re rubbed worn on both sides, from sword work or gauntlets. It’s almost strange to see one of them curled around a quill, writing out reports, besides, the guard captain would rather lead from the front.
fenris’ are sensitive. The lyrium is at its strongest here, weaving patterns that reach to the edges of his fingers, bisecting the length of palms that are clenched into fists more often than not. The skin is always tender, never managing to achieve the hardness that would protect against the sting of wielding a sword as long as he is tall.
isabela’s are deceiving, looking as sender and petite as any noblewoman’s. But they can pick just about any lock, steer a two mast brigantine, and tie a line secure —even in the gravest of storms. Sea rough and world weary. Bela’s hands say nothing and everything.
merrill’s are scarred. Every last inch of them. Small nicks from the coarse stone of primal magic, other larger scars self inflicted, some still not fully healed. Fine boned as any elf, despite how delicate they look, Merrill’s hands could carry the world.
sebastian’s are swift and strong as an arrow. Hardened calluses worked into the skin from years of archery. They’re nimble, skilful despite their size, and unmistakably roguish. No doubt they’re more honest about him and his past than he’d like them to be.
varric’s are thick, robust, used to supporting the weight of a heavy crossbow. There’s something gentle about them when they’re resting on a table or wrapped around a pint mug, flipping through the pages of a manuscript. Varric’s hands have secrets and stories, and they spill from them, taking the shape of words on parchment.