dalishborne

[dalishborne]

Dragon Age: Inquisition - Altar of Mythal

[dalishborne]

Frontispiece from Picture Book by Edmund Dulac (1915)

[dalishborne]

Wait! Revenelan cried, desperately clawing to keep hold of the flickering dream-like vision that slipped through her grasp like tendrils of mist. Against a hazy canvas of celestial blues and pinks, Revenelan could barely make out the shadowed features of a broad, horned figure above her; the edges of its silhouette blurring out of focus. An abrupt, heavy pulse of energy reverberated from the depths of her mind, her stomach plummeted at its intensity. It took her a moment to recognize that each throb was a spoken word, an echoing, disembodied voice that was not her own.

“I have you, fear not. Our time is short now, but we will speak again, soon.” A deep, gravelly timbre pleasantly rumbled against the walls of Revenelan’s skull, strangely igniting a plume of warmth in her chest - familiarity? A sense of comfort wrapped Revenelan in a secure embrace, as if nestled in the cup of an unseen hand that kept her safe from a free-fall into the abyss below.

“For now, you must heed my voice, see my signs; only then can I protect you.” The vision flickered again, like the final flame of a dying candle begging to be snuffed. A surge of panic shot through Revenelan when whatever held her vanished in an instant, a rush of wind whipping by her ears as she dropped; and then, lurched to a sudden stop. In the middle darkness she dangled like a broken marionette. Limb by limb, the last strings of support dwindled and snapped, leaving her hanging by a single thread over a vast sea of nothingness that beckoned to swallow her whole. Fear jolted every heightened Elven sense into overdrive as she flailed and strained to find purchase in the mysterious forces at work. Wherever she was, a dream state or otherwise, the plunge of death felt all too near, all too real; its dread chill crawling up her spine.

“Keep strong, little one.” Hold on - please! Revenelan wordlessly begged the figure above, now a distant blot against the descending skies. “Do not be afraid–“

Finally, the last string of hope gave away, and the darkness took her.

* * *

“– I mean you no harm.”

At first, the world was a bright, white blaze and two flickering flames of emerald green directly above her. As her mind awakened, the green flames seemed to shape themselves into a set of eyes, their gaze inscrutable, and the pale light formed a woman’s face with sharp, statuesque features. Flecks of green glinted against something dark in the sunlight, and Revenelan realized that it was from two ridged, onyx horns that jutted and curled back from atop her head, protruding proudly from a gleaming, silken black mane. For a moment, all Revenelan could do was blink dumbly at the (Tiefling?) woman as she slowly regained her senses, then offered a belated nod at the lady’s reassurance.

The rough sand crunched beneath Revenelan’s weight and stuck to the back of her arms as she lifted herself onto her elbows, blinking away the remnants of her mental haze as she took of her surroundings. A few paces away, waves lapped at the edge of the sandy shore, leaving behind pieces of jagged debris and viscera in its wake. Evidence of the Nautiloid crash was everywhere - the otherwise blue sky snowed ash and dust, puffs of smoke and the smell of burning flesh, wood, and metal wafted from somewhere in the distance. Pieces of the ship protruded into the sky, bent and broken, the black iridescent metal gleaming purples, greens and blues in the sun. A chatty murder of crows circled a mossy boulder nearby, which Revenelan noted parts of their heated discussion – determining whether the splatter of gore and brain matter was safe to eat. Revenelan swallowed uneasily, the tattoos on her face twisting in disgust as she was reminded of the wriggling brain-creature she ripped from the skull of a barely-living corpse with her own two hands.

Just as the thought passed, a sudden pang of energy throbbed in her mind – the same as it had in her vision. The pain pulled Revenelan upright, her head ducked as she grit her teeth through ebbing discomfort. Heat pulsed behind her left eye, the one the Mindflayer worm had intruded. Her head felt hot, full, as if her brain itself had swollen too large for the confines of her skull; doubtlessly the work of her new tadpole friend. Even if her knowledge of the Mindflayer’s work was limited at best, she was not about to place too much trust in this stranger who meant no harm - yet. Perhaps she’d feel different if she knew what burrowed in the depths of Revenelan’s mind now. Revenelan wrapped her arms around her abdomen, and put on a show of pain, hoping her wincing was convincing enough to waive any suspicion - if any.

“That fall should have broken every bone in my body, and yet I am mostly intact.” Revenelan huffed after the pain, thankfully, subsided. It was true, however. All things considered, Revenelan was a little tired, dirty, and perhaps mildly traumatized, all matters could be dealt with later. It may have been the shock that maintained her resolve yet. She turned to offer a polite smile to the lady, but her eyes rounded in surprise instead when she took sight of the black, pointed wings folded behind the stranger’s back, leathery like a bat’s. Horns, wings, and - Gods, a tail too; the telltale physicalities of a devil, all she was missing was the red, hell-touched flesh.

Revenelan supposed she couldn’t draw conclusions just yet, but she could remain quietly cautious.

“Unless, of course, the Gods would favour me so much to send a winged saviour my way in my hour of need. Was it you? Did you catch me amidst my dire descent?”

The winged woman had witnessed a most peculiar sight within the dark hours of night. A flaming ship of wreathing tentacles luminated the night. Visible even to her through the canopy of the forest trees. Her search for medicinal herbs, roots and fungus for her potions, poultices, salves, brews, and all other sorts. To treat those she came across on her travels as her journey was nearing its end. To return to Baldur's Gate and her apothecary. With all she had gathered in her time away. 

Yet the appearance of a Nautiloid was most troubling indeed. Now gone from her sight as the distant sounds of war drums along with the muffled hoots and cries of goblins. 

The direction it had drifted, falling from the starlit skies was towards the lapping shores. A choice had presented itself to her. It was not glory, no, it was concern. Concern born through the slight chance that anything within had survived the crash. A most disturbing thought that a single Illithid had survived with its parasite tadpoles to infect a remote part of Faerun was even a slightest chance possible. It was a debate, an internal conflict to risk life and limb to make sure nothing survived. To cull a sickness before it could spread was her duty.

The duty of a healer, if anything else a learned sorceress of many centuries that knew the horrors of Illithids through study. It wasn't much of a choice. The woman had decided to investigate, with trusted stave and light of foot. The sun had peeked and bathed the land with its warm embrace. With so many eyes drawn to the skies. The woman did not risk taking flight above the trees that gave away to rocky cliffs sloping downward towards the sandy shores. 

The Nautiloid was just on the other side, yet separated from a long drop from the side she had journeyed. With ease of grace and the unfolding of her wings. The woman leapt from the cliff and glided downwards upon dark, blackish-green draconic wings. With shallow beats of her leathery wings, her feet settled upon the sand. Her track was short, flaming emerald eyes kept a vigil for signs of danger. The debris of the ship still fell from the sky as falling embers. Yet in her path was a figure laying upon the sand and debris of the ship.

An antlered woman laid motionless, lifeless. A victim of the Illithids she presumed or perhaps an unlucky passerby. Yet the woman wore the garb of a druid. She knew only one circle of druids within this region. The woman moved closer as she kneeled beside the body.

"Rest now, may your gods embrace you." The woman spoke. A clawed finger pressed against the side of the elf's neck to confirm her suspicions.

What the winged woman did not expect was for the woman to suddenly gasp. Yet she did not startle as the elf woman gazed up at her. 

"Do not be afraid. I mean you no harm."

@dalishborne

[dalishborne]

i have a da2 verse written up! bg3 + da2 verses are done, just working on origins. i've had a sudden burst of motivation to get all of this written out so my blog isn't missing any key info.

[dalishborne]

🌺 send this to ten blogs you think are wonderful 🌺

;-; thank you, nonny!

[dalishborne]

doing a durge run with revie for funsies! :)

[dalishborne]

promise imma be back soon. the start of my summer break ended up being busier than i thought lol

[dalishborne]

DONE FINALS

[dalishborne]

SO glad i'm reading (listening to) the masked empire bc it's not only giving me a little more material to help me shape revie's use of magic (thanks felassan lol) but the insight into dalish clans has been v reaffirming for my personal headcanons about clan aravun.

[dalishborne]

sometimes adhd rly does work in my favour

[dalishborne]

MYSHKA THE CAT | Baldur's Gate III (2023)

[dalishborne]

The Queen of the Ebony Isles, from The Story of the King of the Ebony Isles for Stories from the Arabian Nights by Edmund Dulac (1911)

[dalishborne]

writing is gonna happen the week after next week, got finals due til the 14th. once thats done and over with ill be feeling less stressed and definitely more creative lmao

[dalishborne]

NAGADA SANG DHOL BAAJE, DHOL BAAJE DHAAYN DHAAYN DHUM DHUM DHAAYN

[dalishborne]

[dalishborne]

Aishwarya Rai, Taal, 1999.

[dalishborne]

Aishwarya Rai, Taal, 1999.