#{ verse ;; DAI | Elvhenan }

[tangledfate]

Voices. So very many voices. And memories. Lifetimes echoing through her as Solas and the others screamed for her. Begging her not to do what was already done.

"Lan'lin..." ["Mommy..."] Head turning as eyes blind to the world around her searched for the voice that reached above the rest. Fiore knew that voice but-- how? How could she--?

"Lan'lin mahnast len'lin...?" ["Mommy where is Daddy...?"]

Then there was screaming. Was it hers? Or was it in her head? Her hands found her ears, tried to shut it out as her knees buckled into the water. It was so much--too much! Flashes of memories and pain as she reached for them. Searched for something, anything, to hold onto before--

"Fe'ne, ar'ona?" ["Fe'ne, is that you?"]

She found it. Whatever it had been. Sighing in relief as the memories fell into place as if they'd always known where they'd belonged. And as the image of a boy with her dark hair and skin but the bearing of his father flashed into her mind, she sank into the darkness.

Fiore groaned softly as she awoke, limbs like lead as she struggled to raise her arm to her head. She felt...fuzzy...like she was in a fog until she heard his voice. His beautifully chastising voice demanding what she'd been thinking--how could she do such a thing? His demands stopped when the tears skated down her cheeks and fade green eyes focused on him.

There he was, centuries later; a little older--was he wiser now? Had he waited for her all this time? Through death and rebirth and he was still here?

"mahn'an'the mar dhula, ma fen?" ["where is your hair, my wolf?"] The words came with the best smile she could muster as she reached for him--her love. Her mate. Wide violet gray eyes staring at her as she half sat up, half pulled him down until their foreheads met and they could both breathe again.

[lairofdragonagelore]

Andrastian Design: Stained Glasses

The Stained glasses of the Chantry that appear in DAI seem to narrate the main passages of the Chant of Light [for more details read Part 1 and Part 2]. I’m not so sure to relate them to Serault glasses, since the style is different.

The interpretation of these glasses is done under the hypothesis that their design may hide in plain sight details or elements from ancient tales that were used to create the Chant of Light [for example, we can notice the presence of Elvhenan elements in it since the tale of the Maker has strong resemblance with the Elvhenan tale of Fen’Harel when it comes to seal entities that endanger The People]. This makes sense because this a game, where the devs may have given to us small hints to pick in the art that we may feel a bit odd if we keep only the Chant of Light as the only source of explanation for this iconography.

I’m also working on this post under the hypothesis that these images in the stained glasses are as old as the tale of Andraste, as if they had been created by local andrastian cults that the Chantry, once founded, embraced in order to keep all the different andrastian cults under a single institution or to attract other religions that would see their same or similar iconography in it.  Sadly, we were never informed the date of these stained glasses and their iconography to be sure about this hypothesis. 

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

The Magisters perform blood magic rituals and taint the Golden City

The colour of this glass is predominantly green and red.

At the top of the glass the Golden City is placed, with a small detail of sun rays on the central tower and apparently some cracks in its walls since it’s more fragmented than the black version below [this could also be the stained glass style though]. Around it there are several swirly patterns, and a double circle encloses everything as if it were protected by a barrier. This may represent the Barrier that isolates the Black City, where neither dreamers nor spirits can enter [more details in Murals in DAI: Basics].

Below, there are two small circles: one with the face of a man, the other, with a skull.

In the middle of the image we see Magisters Sidereal, using sacrificial daggers that curiously looks like Swords of Mercy [not the one used by Fenris in DA2 but the one depicted in Chantry iconography and in the Female Kossith/ Desire demon /Tevinter Warrior]

The Magisters perform the sacrifice, and through blood magic, which includes their own blood, they manage to “spill” blood all around the Golden City turning it into black, and putting it upside-down with the exception of the red gate that remains in the same position. The Golden City loses its colours and swirly patterns; now it’s Black, and the barrier that surrounds it is red and yellow. The whole Black City is submerged in an ocean of blood. 

At the corners of the Black City there are several white slaves commonly depicted in Kirkwall iconography. This may be another dev-hint to reinforce the idea that Kirkwall was truly where this event occurred. 

This scene represents the verses Silence 1-3 [ Chant of Light - Part 1] where the Magisters commit the second sin: they enter the Golden City through rituals of lyrium and blood magic with 99 sacrifices [probably more than that] and “taint” it, according to the Andrastian myth. It is curious that the image does not show the entrance to the city through a bridge of flesh raising to the skies as the "dissonant verses” explain.  Instead, the Black City is located underground. It could be considered a normal limitation of the lack of space to draw this picture, but it also inspires this idea hinted in Veilfire Runes in the Deep Roads that something terrible is underground, collapsed, and hidden, so nobody would use it [or in my opinion, nobody would cause its reflection in the Fade].

The Maker speaks to Andraste

The colour of this glass is predominantly blue and red, with a central green ray.

Here, we find a figure without face and a crown that represents the Maker; we had seen this same concept in other pieces of art in what I called Faceless figure holding a crown.  It took me a while to realise this sculpture was the representation of the Maker so forgive the tag name.

Around the Maker’s heart appears a swirly tree that seems to be contained in a circular barrier. This brings strong reminiscences of the mosaics in the Fen’Harel’s mountain ruins, where we find some common designs between the Vhenadahl, Elven Tree Statue, the titan’s guardian’s heart, and dimensional pockets, all of them related to magic, lyrium veins, and spaces in-between the Fade and the Waking World. In Fen’Harel’s mountain ruins, I explained in detail that it doesn’t seem to be odd that the Fen’Harel mosaic which features an object that could be interpreted as a pocket space and also as a spherical elven tree [both symbols of power that may or may not be related to lyrium] appear later in this stained glass, in a very similar fashion to the symbols drawn on the Vhenadahl’s trunk of some alienages. 

How do we explain this without wild weird theories? Simply as the natural evolution of tales and symbols across history, modified by generations due to the inaccurate nature of the oral tradition. We could speculate that elvhenan survivors and former slaves of the Evanuris who found refuge in Fen’Harel may have kept Fen’Harel’s legend alive throughout history, despite the creation of the Veil and the posterior slavery of Tevinter.

We know via  Veilfire Runes in the Deep Roads that “something angry”, described as a “sphere of fire”, is hidden underground. It’s hard to tell how much of this knowledge leaked into the general unconsciousness of the free elvhenan slaves, since Solas always wanted to hide this piece of history, fearing others would use it to claim power.  But I think some details reached the elvhenan free slaves [maybe as fantasy cautionary tales] who passed that knowledge to other generations when they lost their immortality and the symbol ended up in the Vhenadahl being decorated with a red trunk and white branches/vines. Since this knowledge seems to be related to elves and the “old ways” [according to the elves from the alienage] one could suspect this element was developed around the time of the Dalish Kingdom in the Dales, where the Chantry was still creating its Chant by absorbing a lot of elements from different folktales [see The Chantry and the Mythology of the Chant of Light for more details]. So it seems that the Chantry may have also taken something of this idea of a “powerful and dangerous tree” and turned into this symbol: a white tree in a red sphere that represents the Maker’s heart, something they fear but also consider it dear [from a religious point of view]. 

In another interpretation, considering its root symmetry, we may consider this tree-symbol as a representation of Mythal, simply because it has some distant similarities with the Vallaslin [leaf-free tree]. In fact, since DAO we have been seeing a constant symbology of a tree, losing its leaves, which had a similar design to one of the old Vallaslins that may represent Mythal’s. 

There is also a symbol of a tree which upper part looks similar to the roots of the maker’s tree; it is a tree of peace that was cut to make a war table in Skyhold that may or may not relate to some original tale or event that can be linked to this old symbol of a tree in the stained glass. [More details about the tree symbols in  Murals in DAI: Red Lyrium Idol]. Sadly, we know nothing more about this symbol, so we can’t speculate much either. 

Continuing with the stained glass, this strange circle that contains a swirly tree drops a ray of green light [colour similar to the Fade if we follow the colours in the most naive, simple way and exclusively from a design point of view]. This could even suggest that  Andraste talked to the Maker through the Fade [something we have been suspecting for a while since some events in Andraste’s life make us consider her as a potential mage], which gives the idea that the Maker could have been any spirit, and Andraste spoke to it in a similar fashion as alamarri/Avvar mages do [which would make a lot of sense since she was part of the alamarri culture that did not punish magic and tended to contact spirits for counsel]. 

In the field of speculations, it would not be super strange that this Maker were Mythal herself too. We know she has talked to others through dreams: she may have called Kieran in this way, but we also know that there is an elf in Val Royeaux who claims to have been visited by Mythal in dreams and after that conversation, he has his face burned with her vallaslin [Elven Servant Dreams of Mythal, another videos here]. So, this detail in the glass may hide a situation of the like. Or maybe not. We are here reading too much into everything, after all.

Andraste extends her hand to reach a “sphere of fire”. We know how disturbing a “sphere of fire” is for the elvhenan; we have been discussing this for a long while in the series of Murals in DAI in general, and in The Creation of the Veil and in The Death of a Titan in particular. Somehow, the andrastian myth managed to have that exact symbol representing faith and cleansing [we also know that Andraste was always deeply related to fire, since in her Temple, she asks those worthy to cross a wall of flame, more details in “ Temple of Andraste”].

It also worth noting that this icon is deeply related to magic [a human with a flame close to their hands is a good representation of a mage] but the Chantry may have dismissed and erased any potential interpretation related to magic due to its agenda since the beginning to prevent the creation of any other nation similar to Tevinter [filled with free mages]. 

Another interpretation is that this “swirly tree”, so related to Magic in the elvhenan culture, drops a green Fade-like coloured ray onto her and grants her or gives her a “sphere of fire”, that could represent magic power. This has so many different interpretations of what could have been if Andraste were a mage, a dreamer or even a host for Mythal.  Sadly, all those speculations fit in an interesting way here but none has too much support outside the iconography of this glass alone. However, I must say, that the environment around Andraste favours a lot the speculation of her being a mage [I mean, the Alamarri may have a similar approach to mages than the Avvar].

From an Andrastian point of view, this stained glass represents Andraste receiving or showing her fiery faith in the Maker, as she speaks to him, or to his heart. Still in this interpretation the symbols of a swirly tree in the heart of the Maker is very strange. 

She is also standing on something that looks like a mountain. All over this image, we see the mantle of the Maker [blue with a small berries-like pattern] falls all upon her. This mantle will appear again in Andraste’s ascension, in the last stained glass.

The verses that this stained glass represents are Andraste 1 [Chant of Light - Part 1], in which there is no mention of any tree making this symbol even more curious in this stained glass.

With Maferath, Andraste leads the alamarri armies against Tevinter

The colour of this glass is predominantly orange and red, with blue.

The top of the stained glass shows two spheres: one with a golden crown [that I think it represents the Maker, since it’s a similar crown to the one he is wearing in the previous stained glass and in his other representations], and the other with fire as a representation of Andraste’s faith. Both “spheres” are on a golden circle that looks like a Golden Ring. Notice that it has a patterns of small Chantry suns repeated on it. Inside the ring, we see blue glass which may be interpreted as something related to lyrium? It’s a bit disturbing for me to see the Golden Ring containing a pool of water-lyrium, and then, on the bottom of the piece, several men that look like avvar/alamarri warriors painted in the same colour. In an Elvhenan context, this would mean servants or slaved. Here, it’s not clear if this meaning has survived when the Chantry adapted the elvhenan details and symbols to their own purposes, and to what extend they did it. 

I insist in doing these connections because we know that the Chantry is a mash-up of previous religions and symbols, so there is a chance for all these symbols to be distantly related to Elvhenan or others.

In an Elvhenan context, the Golden Ring seemed to imply control of masses [more details in Nation Art: Elvhen], and the presence of this water-lyrium pool reinforces the idea of control when each of the soldiers is coloured with the same blue. It’s also curious all of them are drawn below two diagonal lines that seem to imply mountains. So these warriors look like being below the mountain. Does any of this makes sense in the context of the Chantry? no. But I would not be surprised that part of these symbols were co-opted and adapted from ancient symbols. For example, look at the similarities of the design of this stained glass: 

The configuration of this particular stained glass reminds me of the Stone in Razikale-Ceremony-style [which despite being found in ancient Tevinter buildings, it seems to have an elvhenan origin that we cannot precise as we discussed in Razikale Ceremony and Dumat’s Warrior tablets]. Instead of focusing this stained glass on Andraste as an equivalent of this High Priest of Razikale, it focuses on Maferath and Andraste. The symbols of the Maker and the Faith have the same place than the strange skull in the tablet. At the lower half of the piece we find the devote warriors of Andraste, while in the tablet, there are priests of Razikale and some warriors. Again, I’m not saying this is the same representation nor that there exist a non-unequivocally equivalence between these pieces of art. I’m just considering how the tablet, of Elvhenan origin adapted to Tevinter needs later, may have been incorporated in the symbology of the Chantry to bring faithful of previous religions to this one, showing familiar, appealing images [again, this is how religion has been working in our world, specially when it comes about evangelisation during colonisation procedures]. 

The general interpretation of this stained glass is simple: the central part show the main two figures responsible of the Exalted March against Tevinter: Andraste and Masferath. Both are under the symbols of the Maker and the Faith, the “true” powers of this couple. Maferath is depicted as if he was getting tired of Andraste “leading” this Exalted March. He places his hand on her shoulder as a way to try to stop her, but Andraste is depicted too stoic and determined in her goal. Below them, armies of loyal/devout alamarri warriors, painted in a colour that is related to the background of the symbols of Faith and the Maker, maybe as a way to represent that they are guided, ultimately, by “the sun” that the Maker represents.

The verses that this stained glass refers to are not clear in the Chant of Light we were given. I don’t find a particular group of verses where Andraste narrates her movement across Ferelden and the Waking Sea to invade Tevinter lands. The closest verse to this action is Shartan Verses [Chant of Light - Part 2] but also this historical event is implied in Hymns and Transfigurations ]Chant of Light - Part 1] where Andraste prays to the Maker before some battles. It is curious that there is no verses about the “travelling” part of Andraste and her armies, not even when crossing the Waking Sea.

The Fall of Tevinter Imperium

The colour of this glass is predominantly orange and red.

This glass seems to represent the siege of Minrathous or maybe another important city. To be honest, I never understood well the event that DA series calls “the siege of Minrathous”, because that siege never happened, since Andraste was betrayed and handed over to Tevinter after talking to her armies but before the siege itself. In any case, we can consider it a generic Tevinter city. 

Anyways, on the top of the image we see the sphere of fire, a representation of Faith, enormous and powerful hitting hard on the city which turns into flames [red everywhere].  Two rays fall upon the city buildings, and the Tevinters, represented as those screaming people who are part of the city itself, burn with the fire of the faith that this Exalted March has brought. In order to snuff out the fire of their bodies, they sink into the water barely noticeable in the lower part of the glass. I don’t think there is nothing extra to analyse in this one.

However, if we see this image with Elvhenan eyes, we may suspect it as a prophecy, in which the “sphere of fire” raises to the skies and the world is burnt with its anger. The reckoning comes from the skies, almost as if this were the revenge that Mythal awaited for so long [I always remember Flemeth’s words: “She was betrayed as I was betrayed – as the world was betrayed […] and I will see her avenged! [...] a reckoning that will shake the very heavens”]. But then again, this is just another interpretation with an Elvhenan perspective seeing this image that may or may not have had this intention from the devs.

This particular scene is too generic to represent a particular verse of the Chant of Light. It’s a symbol of the army power that Andraste led in the andrastian myth. Maybe it can even be a cautionary image: “this is what an Exalted March looks like”, it seems to say, and maybe this symbol have put some pressure in the consciousness of the elves that ended up living in city alienages but their resentment for the failing of the Dalish Kingom was still too fresh. Certainly, it’s a pretty raw image.

Shartan as part of Andraste’s forces

The predominance of blue in this glass is interesting due to the potential implications with lyrium and eluvians.  

At the top of the glass we see a ring, but this time is coloured in a deep blue, which contains two spheres: one with Fire, as representation of the Faith in the Maker, and another one empty [????]. Andraste is in the centre and above Shartan to represent her as higher in the hierarchy of the forces; she is after all, the “prophet”.  

A bit below, we see chains in the red windows, the symbol of slavery without any doubt. These chains are a bit different to the one that wraps Shartan. That chain looks like chain-mail, which is used in Chantry-like illustrations. For example, the Tarot card of Justinia V represents her necklace with the Chantry-sun using this type of chain. It’s quite interesting that this chain is restraining Shartan. In a simple glance one would interpret it as the chains of slavery, but they are the ones related to the Chantry while holding a key. Inside an Elvhenan context, this figure would mean that Shartan had the key of some eluvians, and the Chantry, restraining him, forced him to be part of this Exalted March and even use it to cover long extensions of terrain. 

Another interpretation is that Shartan is represented as a vital key in the Exalted March against Tevinter: he has the key of victory, although he is very restrained by the Chantry itself. This may be a representation of the verses that have been “lost” or removed from the Chant. It’s a strange picture that does not seem to reflect any verse when we only have Shartan 9 and 10 [Chant of Light - Part 2].

On the background, we see slaves [I assume so because the shape of their heads is almost the same than the ones depicted in Kirkwall]. One of them is free, wearing green/brown earthy humble clothes, standing on grass, lifting their hand towards Shartan. The other is a slave, wrapped in white clothes and yellow chains? They seem to be a potential victim of a sacrifice. They are praying to Shartan and lowering their head in front of him. Curiously, Shartan and this figure have similar wrapping. This wrapping is negative as we can see in the next stained glass.

Even though we have the verses of Shartan 9 and 10 in the non-canon Chant [Chant of Light - Part 2], none of them seem to have inspired this image. To me, it’s related to the role that elves had in the history of Andraste’s march, but it’s not clear in what manner. Hence my suspicion that this image may represent the lost verses that scholars suspect exist in between 9 and 10. This, of course, would be a hint given by the devs. 

Based on my own personal speculation, I think this part may speak of “elven magic” allowing to “teleport” Andraste’s armies using the eluvians. Eluvians are always “locked doors” that can be unlock with a correct key [sometimes a password, sometime an object that works as a key], so the fact that this elf is holding a key in his hand is basically telling me that the devs are suggesting that eluvians were involved in this part of the story. To emphasise that from a design point of view, we can see a very subtle outline of an eluvian at the background, coloured in blue [as eluvians are when they are active].

Why would the Chantry remove a verse explaining that the elves allowed Andraste’s armies to use eluvians? simply put: because it looks like elven magic allows teleportation. This breaks one of the three main [Chantry] rules of magic [since DAO] that Thedas holds as something you cannot violate without disastrous consequences: No teleportation, no physical entrance to the Fade, and no immortality [all of them explained in the codex The Cardinal Rules of Magic]. Ironically, as we can see once we reach DAI, all of them are bullshit: it’s more Chantry misunderstanding of how the world of Thedas is and works. Elvhenan magic and Elvhenan nature are intrinsically the violation of all those rules, so it makes sense for me that the Chantry removed any potential verse that may implicate the fact that there are ways to transport people long distances through the eluvians. 

Maferath hands Andraste over to Tevinter

The colour of this glass is predominantly red with accentuated blue.

At the top of the glass we see once more the Golden Ring [now in a pale yellow] with the two spheres: fire and a crown that we know they stand for Faith and Maker, respectively. The inner background of the Golden ring now is grey, assuming it’s a way to interpret that the Faith in the Maker has been diminished, at least on Masferath’s part since here we see when he hands Andraste over to the Archon. 

In the main central piece we see Maferath holding a Chantry chain as if it were a sword that will decide Andraste’s fate. Since Andraste is wrapped in this chain, this represents the “betrayal”. Maferath chains Andraste and hands her over to Tevinter. These chains are in blue, standing out from the glass which has been painted predominantly in warm colours. 

There is a small tile in the background where we see two small snakes in yellow, suggesting this action was a consequence of a “whisper” of Tevinter or a secret arranged between Maferath and the Archon, so two snakes are behind this event.

Andraste is crying blood and she is wearing her typical crown of a single spike. She still looks upwards, to the Maker and the Faith symbols.

Down below we see a rat, which is curious because I can’t find a significant interpretation to this: Masferath is a rat? XD This kind of details spark wild conspiracy theories. I won’t go there, but certainly I would like to know what’s the design purpose of putting it in the foreground. The snakes representing the secret meeting of Maferath with the Archon is less relevant than this rat. Lol.

This stained glass represents the verse of Apotheosis 1 [Chant of Light - Part 2].

Andraste is burnt publicly and Archon Hessarian kills her out of mercy

The colour of this glass is predominantly red and brown.

Here we find the stained glass separated into two. The foreground is dominated by Archon Hessairan who is presented with a Tevinter outfit and two golden snake raising to his side, probably as a representation of the original “betrayal” he encouraged Masferath to do.  

He is killing Andraste out of mercy with a sword that doesn’t look like the usual one they depict as the “Sword of Mercy”. However, we see this sword in the “Tevinter warrior” that decorates the columns of the Imperial Highway: check the Female Kossith/ Desire demon /Tevinter Warrior tag.

On the background, we see Andraste being beheaded. This is curious because the verses and the most common depictions show her death being caused by the sword piercing her chest/heart. This makes us wonder if these stained glasses have more information than the verses [which I think they do since Shartan’s stained glass implicates a lot of more things than those said in the Chant]. The background behind Andraste is full of red and fire to represent the pyre. She is also wearing her typical one-spiked crown. In her hair, at the top of the image, we see the sphere of fire once more: the symbol of Faith, bigger than in the other cases, probably as a representation of her determined faith [but also, from an Elvhenan point of view, it’s a symbol of something terrible and angry]. 

Curiously, in the background, at the middle of the glass, we find the crown that we assumed it represented the Maker, but it’s not inside a sphere anymore, but inside an inverted triangle painted in green. The inverted triangle may suggest the Maker came down from the skies to take Andraste’s soul? 

In an elvhenan context, this elongated inverted triangle would mean the presence of the Fade in this event. Its colour is the same one than the “green ray” coming from the swirly tree/ heart of the Maker that we saw before. Is this a symbol showing that the presence of the Maker was here during this episode?

If we assume that Andraste was a mage, possessed by a spirit that kept her safe and taught her magic, this symbol may represent that this spirit [which has been talking to her and working as “The Maker”] left her body in that moment. Now, these interpretations can go as wild as we want, but at the end of the day is hard to appraise which is the better one, since we don’t know how old these stained glasses are, and if our hypothesis that there may be some elvhenan symbols is correct. 

The verse that this stained glass reprsents is Apotheosis 2 [Chant of Light - Part 2]

Andraste ascends her mortal form

The colour of this glass is predominantly yellow. If yellow can be understood as golden, and we add more meaning to these stained glasses by embracind the elvhenan iconography, this may be telling us that Andraste reached divinity. 

In the final stained glass, we find the ascension of Andraste: her background is entirely yellow/golden. At the top of the glass we see some columns and a structure that suggests a roof, implying she reached the Golden City.  

She is wearing her crown, but now it has 3 spikes. She seems to be bald now since we don’t see any bit of hair [that’s what pyres do even in the afterlife, I guess]. Over her head is always present the sphere of fire representing her never-ending Faith. At the sides of her face, we find two inverted triangles. One in blue, representing the Maker with his crown inside, and the other in red, representing a sword [that I think it’s similar to the one used by the Archon in the previous glass]. This may represent that through an act that spilled blood [being killed by a sword] she reached the Maker. But these triangles could also be used to “remember” her as a warrior as well as the bride of the Maker. I don’t know, the interpretation gets a bit diversified here. The red stands out and it related to the “earth”, since at the lowest part of the stained glass we see the ground painted in the same colour.

She is wearing a white robe with a golden scarf, reinforcing the idea of bride and purity [cleansed by the fire], as she is emerging from the mountains, interpreting this as her ascension to the Maker’s side [the Maker has appeared to her behind the top of the mountains, according to Andraste 1]. 

The sides of the glass show a pattern of “berries”, which are in the same style that the ones we saw in the Maker’s mantle in the first glass. This may indicate she is under the roof/mantle of the Maker now.

The verse represented in this image is the last part of Apotheosis 2 [Chant of Light - Part 2]

In the book World of Thedas, we find a concept art of a Chantry, which ground is what caught my attention the most: we find a Quincunx, a symbol that long ago we had found in a repetitive way all over DAO and had disappeared after DA Awakening. In DAI reappeared in Solas’ tarot card and in some elements of Orlesian Design, but never got the relevance it had once in DAO.

In here, we see the centre focused on the Golden City, while the other four points display the crown of the Maker.

[dreadfutures]

For Dorian & Ixchel (and Solas can be there too if you like) on this spooky dadwc friday night!

The despot of our days and lord of dust Needs but, scarce heeding, wait to drop Grim casual comment on rebellion's end; "Yes, yes . . Wilful and petulant but now As dead and quiet as the others are." And this each body and ghost of you hath heard That in your graves do therefore lie so still.

To The Dead in the Graveyard Underneath My Window, Adelaide Crapsey

I love getting your poetry prompts for @dadrunkwriting!! I look up new poets and sit and chew on the verses for so long...and then lose track of things and they spiral into what I hope is good but I DONT KNOW MAN.

Have Dorian, Ixchel, and Felassan ruminating on hope and mortality.

Words: 1571

Rating: G

Pairing: Dorian, Ixchel, Felassan

-:-:-

Wherever the refuge lay, it was summer, too. The dusty ruin baked all day in the unrelenting sun, surrounded all around by the blue of the lake and the blue of the sky. Halla still roamed the grassy island upon which the ruin had been built, though Ixchel wondered how they found enough sustenance in the now-gold grass. She vaguely remembered that there had been flowers here during the Exalted Council, but it seemed they had all been swallowed up by the dry, dead foliage.

Dorian's coat rasped across the hot stone as he stepped off the bridge and tilted his head back to take in the cathedral. She had seen Minrathous, and she knew how much of its architecture had been lifted—perhaps literally, in some cases—from that of Elvhenan, and she wondered if Dorian saw that truth now, too.

She did not ask, however; her memory was already echoing with the conversations they had had, in another life, as they traversed the Temple of Mythal. She knew of his conviction to redeem the morally bankrupt foundation of his homeland, knew how it had been both disturbing and comforting to learn that the grandeur of Elvhenan had not been wiped out solely at the hands of his people. He had learned some of that history already, though he had not seen the Temple of Mythal in this life, nor seen evidence of ancient elven survivors.

Yet.

Ixchel did not ask Dorian his thoughts, because her voice had gotten stuck somewhere in her ribs as she watched him drink in the faded banners of the rebellion that swayed almost imperceptibly around them. He remained in that spot for a while, twisting his head to take in all the details, all without speaking.

Dorian's cane clacking on the stone as he set off again at last broke Ixchel from her own reverie, and she followed him into the cathedral, and her new shadow followed a few feet behind her. She was careful not to look back at him for the moment. Instead she focused on Dorian's heavy steps and how the sun beat down on her own dark hair, and she tried not to think of how this place somehow still summoned the smell of gaatlok and charred Qunari flesh to the back of her throat.

The cathedral interior was just as she remembered, yet she was still surprised by the chill as she passed into its shadows. Greens and golds shimmered in the gloom above them; the sun never seemed to trespass inside here, as though even the memory of those rebels who slept in the rows of bunks and prayed in the seats and bled across the tiled floors was condemned to fade away in the cold. Dorian wandered among them, never drawing close enough to disturb the dust on the sheets and careful not to step too heavily on the loose shards of mosaics that had fallen from the roof.

He paused again to drink in the mosaics of the Evanuris stained black with mold and seemingly selectively exposed to the elements compared to the rest of this place. And then—then he reached the painted vestibule.

He chuckled and shook his head. Then, Dorian looked back at Ixchel as he pointed his cane at the iconography of the orb, with its fingerprint-like whorls, painted plainly on either side of the door ahead. "Now where have I seen that before?" he asked, one fine eyebrow quirked at her. "Alright, mula. What do you know, and how long have you known it?"

-:-:-

The sun had set by the time Ixchel finished answering all of Dorian's questions. They had taken seats out on the little balcony behind the statue of the wolf, watching while they spoke the sun set over the mountains in the distance.

Ixchel had hardly dared to look away, afraid of what she might find on Dorian's face despite his patient and mostly curious tone as she lay the truth at his feet. But now, as silence stretched between them, she dared a glance in his direction.

He was watching the sky too, as the bloody reds of the sunset faded once more into the deep indigo blues of night. His eyes reflected the scene, though they shivered with tears like stars.

"Dor?" she asked softly, reaching for his hand. "Are you alright?"

"I already know what you'll say," he sighed. He took her hand and passed it around his shoulders, then wrapped one arm around her waist and hauled her even closer.

She appreciated his warmth against her side, but she sensed something in him that felt heavy and cold. She squeezed him as tight as she could in return, and he sighed again. She snorted quietly and closed her eyes, ready to wait patiently for him to continue—though she knew he was waiting for her to ask.

At last, he broke. "Fine, fine," he said with an assumed dourness that made her snicker. "Save the copper for my thoughts—I'll offer them, free of charge."

"What a deal," she muttered, and he dug his fingers into the soft part of her waist where he knew he could make her shriek with tickled laughter.

But then he abruptly stopped, and tilted his head back to look up at the roof above them. "Inventions and accomplishments the Imperium can hardly dream of, let alone emulate…" He sighed. "And yet the ancient elves were plagued by the same bloody corruption, and greed, that I sadly must admit is nearly synonymous with 'Tevinter' these days. They could shape the world down to its very fabric with a pretty thought, but they couldn't stop that. Fen'Harel and his rebellion could lock away gods, create the Veil, but the cruelty and the cowardice of this world remained." His throat worked painfully around his words as he tried and failed to hide the tremble in them. "No wonder it's futility that haunts you, Ixchel."

She drew a sharp breath at that, but he did not let her pull away.

"Andraste, Fen'Harel—how many over the ages have tried to change the structures that govern this world and failed? And what have I got that a god doesn't?" Dorian asked, disbelievingly.

"Nothing," said a voice behind them.

Ixchel and Dorian turned in each other's arms to look up at Felassan, who had come to lean against the doorway. He, too, did not make eye contact with them. Instead, he looked inside the cathedral at the paintings on the wall, his arms crossed and his expression utterly inscrutable.

"Have you not been listening, Magister?" he scoffed. "That god is not the one who led the rebellion. No god sustained them through the centuries."

"Yes, yes, 'sustained,'" Dorian said with a frown. "And where are they now? Like every other rebellion before and hence, they're all as dead and quiet as the others are, and time and cruelty continued on. Isn't that why Solas wanted to open that cursed orb of his?"

Felassan turned his marked face to them at last, his eyes creasing with humor. "The rebellion lives," he said. "It was not Fen'Harel who sustained them, just as it's not the Maker who fueled Andraste's rebellion or brought Shartan to her side or however you believe the story, and it's not the Brave Guide leading anyone now."

"Hey," Ixchel muttered.

"Be wary, da'len," Felassan teased. "Belief makes you more."

Dorian's eyebrows shot up at that, and he turned more fully to face Felassan. "Is this supposed to be a sermon about how hope and a smile should be enough?" he asked acerbically. "If we're not fighting for a better future, if it is all but certain that the toil will accomplish nothing—"

"Then I invite you to jump from the tip of Andruil's bow," Felassan interrupted, and he flung an arm out in the direction of the monument to the Huntress up in the heights of the mountains above the valley. "But if not you, then who, Dorian Pavus? Or do you want someone to look at you, too, and your abandoned dreams, and see their defeat in your resignation?"

Felassan fixed his violet gaze on Ixchel as the twilight fell across his face. "We did not have a concept of time before the Veil. Many have cursed it for all it stole from us, and the unique suffering it has brought. We look at you shemlen and see the walking dead."

Felassan blinked rapidly, though Ixchel could not see in the gloom if it was tears that plagued him. He pressed on in a steady voice, however: "But I don't. You accomplish more in small lifetimes than we did with eternity. You rise up and make progress and dare to keep dreaming, while these people you call 'great' forgot that they could make dreams reality if they fought hard enough, or they grew weary of fighting. So don't allow yourself to grow weary. Especially not because of failures that were not yours."

With that, Felassan turned and disappeared, swallowed by the darkness that filled the cathedral.

For a few moments, all he left in his wake was a silence like an undisturbed grave.

Dorian swallowed hard beside Ixchel. He had been rubbing her shoulder as Felassan spoke so passionately, and now he gave her as squeeze.

"So…let me guess," he said under his breath. "Solas isn't the only ancient elf in our midst?"

[emerald-amidst-gold]

OC Interview: Fane Lavellan

Thank you for the tag @dungeons-and-dragon-age! I’ve been eyeing up this meme for a while actually, so this was perfect timing! X3

This takes place Post-Trespasser, about a month or two after, in fact. Solas brought the idea forward, and of course, Fane refused. But after some coaxing, some explanation as to why, and the promise of a whole cake, Fane agreed to humor the request. 

*THERE BE BIG THINGS REGARDING FANE HERE* 

I got carried awaaaaaay! XD

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

“I can, but it’s a lengthy list,” He sighs, “...Those who are close to me, who see as but an elf, call me Fane. Those who wish to meet cobble, call me Lavellan or Herald. Those who are blinded by reverence call me ‘He Who Flew Above’. Denizens of the Fade refer to me as, ‘Devotion’ or ‘Tenacity’. However, my true name is..” He sighs again, “...Aterian. I rarely go by it, but the truth won’t be ignored. It never can be.”

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

“Male. Elvhen. Dragon.” He huffs through his nose, shifting his gaze off to the side, “That’s all I’ll say on that. As for orientation, I’m...emotionally driven. If you asked me to look at another and tell you what’s attractive about them I would say, ‘Nothing.’ I don’t know them, so I feel nothing for them.“ He shrugs, turning his gaze back, but brandishes a glare, “There’s only one person who defies that response, and that’s because he knows me, without and within. More than that, is none of your business.”

Where and when were you born?

He lifts a hand, massaging a temple, “The ‘where’ is simple; Elvhenan. Specifics are lost to me, however, so you’ll have to be content with that response.” He shifts his gaze downwards, slowly crossing his arms, “As to when?” He sighs heavily, “...I have no answer for that other than: I’m roughly the same age, if not older, as Solas. Does it matter, honestly? Numbers fall through the cracks after a specific threshold is crossed.” What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

He unravels a crossed arm and guides his hand downwards, tapping the pommel of a sword he has fastened to his waist, “Sword. I use either long swords, short swords, or great swords.” He raises an eyebrow as a question is forwarded, “Shields?” He sneers a bit. “I don’t use shields. They get in the way, and anyways,” He raises his hand once more, the expanse steadily beginning to glow blue and silver before a spectral coating of scales cover the entirety, “this is better than any shield. I prefer the front lines, the place I can make sure no one breaches, and the lingering memory of what I once was makes sure I can do just that.” He dispels the scales and shakes out his hand before returning it to his crossed counterpart, “It takes energy to maintain, but I’m getting better at holding it for longer.”  Lastly, are you happy?

He blinks before his entire expression softens, two toned eyes shining with primary gold as they shift downwards, “...If you had asked that of me over twelve years ago I would have spat in your face and said, ‘Happiness doesn’t exist in this world’. But now..” He trails off, casting a sidelong glance towards one of the fortress’s entryways; a familiar voice sounding, firm, but soft, as if reprimanding a child, “...I understand what happiness is, and it’s in every corner if you allow yourself to see it.” His eyes shift back, holding a far away look and voice coming forward in a murmur, “I only wish we all could be happy; together.”

Family and Friends

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

His face holds a conflicted look, as if the memory is painful before speaking, “Complicated,” he says before beginning to tap a finger against his bicep, “I had a mother. She died when I was fifteen from a wasting disease, but she was the picture of serenity. Calm, guiding, measured. Hair like moonlight. Eyes like a clear autumn day. She was--” Unbranded features twist with a look of grief, eyes going dark as his voice drops, “...I’d rather not speak of her. It still hurts to. It hurts to speak of any of them,” His eyes narrow, grief stricken expression turning somewhat bitter, “...Especially those who throw all you did for them back into your face because they refused to listen when you needed them to most. Even so, I still wish for her happiness. Cullen better be treating her right,” That bitter turns outright malicious, dark eyes going darker as another question is meekly asked, “Father? I have no father. I only had a monster that haunted my childhood, tore my token of devotion apart, and then stalked me in my dreams. So, no. I have nothing to say about that concept.”

Have you ever ran away from home?

He chuckles, “Many, many times,” He throws most of his weight into one side, tilting his head back as if thinking, counting, “I can’t even remember the amount of times I fled into the forests, to be honest. All I know is that it happened weekly, maybe even daily,” He brings his head back, snowy hair moving with the action to brush the tops of his cheekbones, “Why do you look so surprised?” he asks, snorting a bit at the meek response of, ‘Why so often?’, “Because I refused to endure being treated like a beast every hour of the day merely because I believed differently, or rather, not at all.” He sighs within the next moment, “...I wasn’t any better than the Dalish, though. I lashed out, I spat in their face, dragged their heritage through the dirt, inflicted harm from the smallest of things...” He squeezes his arms, eyes narrowing into a glare, but seeming to see through everything, “...The past repeats. An infernal spiral that will never slow.” Would you consider marriage or having children?

“Marriage? Children?” He blinks, pale visage suddenly going flush before he snarls, “Why do I need to answer those questions?!” The blush deepens and he responds despite his displeased expression, muttering and biting the inside of his cheek, “...Damned keen eyed elves. They know, don’t they? I swear if Abelas fucking ran that mouth of his, I’ll--” He sighs heavily, letting his head fall limp a bit in defeat, “...Yes. To both. The latter is already taken care of, as everyone situated in the Crossroads knows, but...” Pointed ears are now a deep shade of red, “...marriage is...on hold. War time isn’t an ideal summer wedding.” His voice drops, eyes shimmering as if he was before the person his heart yearned for, “...The sky deserves a venue better than a garden of death and deceit.” Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“There were those in the Inquisition who I didn’t exactly see eye to eye with,” he started before shaking his head, “but I didn’t hate anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own views and what they find important.” He scowls a bit, tapping his bicep once again with a finger, “...Even if they didn’t extend the same kindness to me in the beginning. ‘Do you believe in the Maker?’ ‘Do you believe you’re chosen?’ ‘You need to use the people’s faith. It gives them hope.’” He mocks before snorting harshly, “No. No, I don’t. Oh, that suddenly makes me trash? Ohhh. How terrible.” He scoffs. “Disgusting.” Which friend knows everything about you?

“Solas,” He says within a heart beat before clearing his throat, shifting his gaze away sheepishly, “He knows me without and within.” Emerald and gold blaze as the orbs go wide, the blush of roses coming back in full force, “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t mean--! Fuck! You better wipe that shit eating grin off your face, elf, or I swear I’ll do it for you!” He growls in frustation, throwing his hands in the air, “Why did I agree to this? What fucking dragon entertains an interview!? This is worst than the courts in Arlathan used to be! And that’s saying something!”

Asked by Fans

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

”I am literate. Sometimes to a fault, in fact,” He smiles a bit, “Poetry is my niche; a lingering memory of my mother. So, I speak cryptically at times,” He snorts, amused, “Although, I guess that isn’t much of a surprise since the Elvhen language is riddled in verse rather than practical application. Still, even some of the ancients left have a hard time deciphering my words,” He shrugs, smile turning into a smirk, “They never expected a dragon to be able to talk, I guess. Well, ta-dah.”  The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

A somber expression flits across his visage and eyes, “...That, eventually, I would hurt the one person I never wanted to.” The corner of his mouth twitches, holding both bitterness and grief; a painful duo, “...And retribution came just as swiftly, but it--” He sighs, shaking his head in defeat before muttering under his breath, “Observe and accept. Observe that what came to pass was uncontrollable, and accept that it had to happen for your path to continue, for your soul to be complete.” What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

His face blanks, mouth going into a hard line before a sigh exits through his nose slowly, “...That I don’t have tail.” He snarls, blank expression twisting in warning, “Laugh, elf. Do it.” He nods in the next second when no sounds of amusement come forth, expression going stoic once more, “That’s what I thought. You try living centuries in one form and then transitioning. See what happens.” Do you have mental health or physical issues?

He nods, sighing tiredly. “Like my names, I have a lot.” A hand motions to his body lazily, “My entire body is littered in scars, inflicted through crude experiments by an abomination that sought power like so many others,” He expression sours, jaw working back a forth, “They’ve calmed over the years, but the memories are not so kind.” He sighs, trying to calm himself and lifts his left hand; the Anchor glowing faintly and his eyes watch it, “I have an illness, or rather, sensitivity to any Fade born essence. That, too, has calmed and I’m grateful for that. As for my mind..” He trails off, grimacing a bit as if suddenly in pain, “...Visualize the Void, and there’s your answer. Black walls with crimson torches, seats empty, but somehow wanting for memories to take their seats. However, those occupants never come, burnt to ash by fury’s flame. That’s my mind in a nutshell.” What is your current main goal?

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips, “Mm, as of right now, I’m busy helping Solas unlock the eluvians that he couldn’t while I was away,” He flexes his marked hand, watching it with a look of determination in his eyes, “That’ll take time, but after, my people, my kin will have their skies back. I won’t let this power be squandered, and I won’t let the key that I’ve been entrusted with fall into the wrong hands.” His face hardens further, “For if that key rusts, the locks break and the sky will blacken as surely as the earth will redden.”

Choices

Drink or food?

“Drinks.” He says with ease, shrugging, “Food is comforting, especially sweets, but a glass of rum or ale, or a cup of chamomile tea really pounds the word ‘relaxation’ into my head.” Cats or dogs?

He smiles, warmth caressing its edges, “You’ve seen Nislean wandering about the halls, laying on the window sills and curling up in front of the fire,” He hums suddenly, crossing his arms again, “Which reminds me, I need to go out of the Crossroads for milk. I’ll be getting more than five bottles this time.” Optimist or pessimist?

“Depends on who you ask,” He shrugs, seeming unbothered, “I’m neither from a personal standpoint. I try to see the bright spots, but shadows can be very persistent.”   Sassy or sarcastic?

He snorts, “Ask Fen’harel,” his voice is light upon the title, playfully mocking in its deepness, “He knows all about that side. Although, he would label it, ‘insufferable’. I would call myself dryly sarcastic, though.”

Have You Ever

Been caught sneaking out?

He purses his lips, “Hmm. Not that I can recall,” he says slowly before his brows jumped and his eyes lit up with memory, “Oh! Wait. There was that one time where I was with Solas and Mythal in a...courtyard, I think?” He shrugs before shrugging, “Doesn’t matter. But, I tried to slip away, tail and all, and I...may have shattered one or two or three eluvians trying to get to the balcony.” He somewhat wistfully, smirking, “Elgar’nan got fucking stuck in a far off settlement for a week, though. Completely worth getting my horn chewed off by a wolf.” Broken a bone?

“Surprisingly, no.” He huffs in amusement, “Wonder of wonders, truthfully.” Received flowers?

“I have,” He scowls, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust, “but I always throw them into the fire. Most are from suitors, those who don’t know what the fuck ‘taken’ means.” Ghosted someone?

His face tightens, completely deadpan, “...No?”, he says, voice raising in question a bit, “At least I don’t believe so. But, then again...oh.” He blanks further, “...Oh. I understand the term now. You mortals are forever twisting the languages, aren’t you? I can’t keep up, but the answer is still no.” Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

“Maybe once or twice, but I don’t ‘laugh’ per say.” He huffs through his nose deliberately, “I do that; a puff of air. Some habits are never truly able to be broken. No matter the form.”

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @blueheaded @little-lightning-lavellan @noire-pandora @the-dreadful-canine and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course!)

[mercysought]

you began to brood over humanity and made meals of our hope as if crushing our spirits would make your mirrors cast better reflections than the ones they gave as if the only way you could save yourselves was to make the world ugly so no one would notice you hided in it you learned to knit pain into a kind of camouflage treated hope like a mirage that you could use to lure in your next meal you lived off our fears, you could taste what we feared

you curled your hands into wrecking balls your breath became squalls, you made rocks rumble, you made land shiver, you made boys and girls pray that someone would deliver them from you we told them, you aren't real

and then one day, the world changed but you all stayed the same

you turned your hate into stones and hurled them at beauty, as if you couldn't bear to see anything other than ugly anything different you had fingernails like flint and scraped them against decency hoping we would be the ones to all catch fire you all had smiles like one-way barbed wire not meant to keep us out, but to keep us in always like a firing pin, you spoke in explosions

you praised suffering waltzed in between tragedies, gracefully dipping miseries as if we would be somehow impressed by the dexterity of your animosity

your loathing already dressed in riot gear ready to incite rage

we are stuck with you the same way you are stuck with you

we were once upon a time told that none of you exist we dismissed you as make believe or myth, now on only with resolve we can no longer afford to tell ourselves, that you aren't real we will not let you make your dinners out of the things we feel.

I have a lot of thoughts about how beautiful the poem Troll by Shane Koyczan but every time that I hear I just keep thinking about how absolutely brutal, disgusting, gaslight-y, abusive the ancient elvhenan was. And how that world view has twisted any ancient elvhen that survived to the “modern age”. Even those that are like Solas, those that fought against that system. 

They are awoken in a new world but they are the same, their mentalities not unchanged but trying to see any part of the old world that they could recognise. How to twist it to look closer to what they feel it’s right. And the people of the current world? They think that they are all legend, that the “Gods” never truly existed, or if they did they were never like what we know the Evanuris were. Monstruous and constantly hungry for power, even the “best” of them. Every one of them fed from different parts of their people (hope, fear) to grow in power and influence.

The priestess herself can be seen in a few verses as the victim of this same system:

you have coaxed the sober back into bars, handed out cigars at memorials offered nooses, cliffs, and pills to those who unfortunately found you before they found help

This poem is such a huge source of inspiration for the priestess and himsulem I am going to SCREAM

[felassan]

Some random things from Tevinter Nights I’ve been thinking about:

(under cut for spoilers)

It intrigues me that the Necropolis apparently goes as far back as the Towers Age, at the very least. That’s the age in which human Flemeth was born and when the Third Blight happened. Nevarra didn’t even achieve independence from Orlais til partway through 3:65.

Solas waxes lyrical about and we learn about some of the beauties and wonders of Elvhenan in DAI. In this book we have floating buildings and chandeliers and stuff in Tevinter. It’s not nearly the same or on the same scale of magnificence/wonder, and it’s not cool because a lot of these things were achieved off the toils of slaves, built on the bones of the elvhen empire, and by using their blood in blood magic, but even now in the present there are echoes of what once was and magic is still a very capable force capable of beautiful and complex things. those things are even super mundane to Vints. We also have the weird moving geography inside the Necropolis. That also feels like an ancient wonder-y thing and I have to wonder (pun intended) about the mechanism of how it occurs. I’m going to assume that with all the dead, spirits, mages and weird rituals, the Veil is thin in the Necropolis. Dizzying changing geography is really Fade-esque in tone.

What’s all this about all the monsters in Minrathous? I don’t mean the Lovecraftian stuff creeping ‘in’ like the Cekorax. There’s obviously going to be a fair amount of demons and abominations going around due to the high concentration of mages, powerful magic and evil deeds. It also makes sense that there’s no shortage of creatures that have become changed by magical experiments in the city - thats just Magisters are doing what they do. But what are these “Tevinter’s naturally occurring enchanted predators” Dorian refers to? They’re apparently all dangerous, cunning and usually hungry. What are those? Is that like a Tevinter wildlife thing?

I’m also intrigued by the priest’s prayers for the dead man at the funeral at the opening of Down Among the Dead Men. It’s not new, it’s from the Chant of Light, and it’s been discussed before but it’s an interesting choice to include in the text. “And the Maker, clad in the majesty of the sky, set foot to earth, and at His touch all warring ceased.” That verse is called The Maker Returns and opens “In dread I looked up once more.” HMM. Solas’ actions, while eventually unintentionally sundering and dooming the People, did cease the warring that was part of what was going to destroy them when he ‘held back the sky’. And ofc he made the Veil, when the Chantry believe that was the Maker. 

I also wanna know about Lucanis’ instincts. He’s not a mage but has developed a physical instinct where the back of his eyeballs twitch and his skull feels raw when someone is tapping into the Fade or when someone is tearing at the Veil’s seams. He can tell when the Veil is thin. He can feel when raw magic energy is charging the air and stuff. not a mage but magic-sensitive..? knowledge like he has about demons, red lyrium, the Veil and artifacts and stuff can be gained by reading a book. but how do you develop the instincts? Has he developed this in his long crusade hunting and killing Venatori? By this point in time he’s killed at least 9 so it makes sense he’s familiar with their ‘signatures’ if you will and related stuff. is it a case of learning to recognize it and you become more used to it/able to tell with repeated experience? does one have to have an inbuilt magical sensitivity first or can any non-mage do this?

[theharellan]

@ghilannainguideme​ asked: Does Solas read quickly or slowly? How's his handwriting? Does he have a preferred writing instrument? Questions for both canon and modern 'verse!

Solas reads slowly, as I noted the other day when he and Thora are reading the same book they rarely read together in the same room. Thora can easily outpace him, even at her average pace (she can speedread if need be, although she’d hardly do that for a recreational read). Time flows differently in a post-Veil world, and while he has adapted he still struggles. Not only that, but he is reading in a language which he has been reading a few years at most and books lack a dimension they did in Elvhenan. They were a more rounded experience and he finds it hard to read in silence, often muttering the words beneath his breath to help fill the void he’s feeling.

In modern he is a little quicker, though still tends towards taking his time. Some factors have shifted in his favour, I tend to make the Veil thinner to the point that spirits can live more freely in the world because it’s what they deserve, but it also would help with Solas’ reading. Silence is also something that he can work around, especially by the modern day. He listens to a lot of ambience tracks on Youtube.

Solas’ handwriting is not great, although he mostly writes for his own reference and not others. When he’s writing a report for Leliana or Josephine he’ll make a greater effort to make his words legible. I use the font Santos Dumont for his handwriting, which appears as follows:

A cleaned up version of that where his letters don’t run together is likely what Josephine or Leliana receive. I can’t say he’s changed much in modern, especially seeing as computers have enabled him to type most comments on papers, so he can write however he wants most of the time. All this being said, he’s capable of writing quite beautifully (but it may take him fifty years) if you wanted to count calligraphy or illuminated manuscripts.

He prefers to write with ink, but the Dragon Age lacks the utensils of Elvhenan, where I wouldn’t be surprised if something more akin to the modern pen existed. Or at least something that didn’t have to be dipped every dozen words or so, which is something he would certainly resent after falling out of the habit several centuries ago. In modern he likes rollerball pens and water-based inks rather than oil-based, preferring the smooth roll of the words onto the page.

[dirtharaxma]

Headcanon Retcon/Rewrite | Falon’Din [ Falon’Din is asexual and extremely sex repulsed, even going through adolescence, random erections, either from just normal blood flow or accidental stimulation, made him feel physically ill to the point wherein he physically castrates himself to prevent feeling it anymore. In verses where the twin is around that early, he heals it immediately, in others he likely has to be found passed out from blood loss before he gets his healing and he’s lectured at length by Elgar’nan once he wakes. The only verses where he doesn’t do it this early are the slave AUs wherein he’s not sure he wouldn’t just be left for dead. In those verses he does it the first time he gets an erection somewhere safe with Dirthamen near enough to get to for healing before he passes out.

The only actual exception is body swap AU in DAI Thedas. And even then, shortly after joining the Inquisition and deeming the healing capabilities of the Infirmary sufficient, he can and will castrate himself. It’s debilitating and extremely unhealthy for him to get physically ill on the regular and it’s embarrassing and made worse by the fact he’s lived without a dick for basically his entire life.

In Elvhenan era, up until being raised to godhood, some would, occasionally, proposition Falon’Din or offer him their sex slave or concubines or such in bids for favor. Depending on how the offer is worded/what it insinuates Falon’Din will respond anywhere from a polite refusal ro murder to eradicating a whole bloodline. However it plays, though, once alone he feels gross and violated and has to take a very hot bath and violent scrub it off of him. ]

[felandaristhorns]

Mun vs. Muse (repost, not reblog)

Name:     Mun: Fox     Muse: Fenumin

Age:      Mun: 28      Muse: 34-36 in verses where age is even relevant

Gender:      Mun: Cis female      Muse: Cis male

Occupation/Student:      Mun: Retail. I unload produce pallets all day; I’m stronk.      Muse: Clan Inahwen herbalist (Dalish); spy, assassin, agent of Dirthamen (Elvhenan)

Height:      Mun: 5′1″      Muse: 5'2″

Best Friend?      Mun: @ofxelvhen      Muse: Getting him to acknowledge it is a trial, but Dacien ( @ofxelvhen ) and Harellin ( @dirthara-an ) probably qualify. Dacien is definitely his best friend in modern AU, but this is balanced by Fenumin refusing to be his friend at all in Dalish verse.

Boyfriend/Girlfriend/Datefriend?      Mun: @ofxelvhen <3 <3 <3      Muse: Effectively dating Mi’Enasalin in every verse in the absence of other ships. Though he wouldn’t call it “dating,” as their relationship is typically entirely sexual in nature, barring extenuating circumstances.

Relationship with Family?      Mun: My dad passed away a few years ago, and I don’t talk to my mom and brother much.      Muse: In Elvhenan, he was sold into indentured servitude in infancy; in Dalish verse, he was orphaned. Regardless, Sulahn (either Dirthamen’s second-in-command or Clan Inahwen’s Keeper, depending on the verse) is the closest he has to a mother figure, and he’s on generally good terms with her.

Tagged by: I feel like I was tagged in it a while ago but never got around to it, so I’m just going to claim I stole it from @dalathin Tagging: @ofxelvhen (for any muse) and anyone who might wanna steal it from me.

[tangledfate]

Twisting trees of crystal and temples that floated as though they weighed nothing. It was where she'd been born and yet home was not the name she would have chosen for it. Because she was lesser, and though her master was kind, there would always be a divide.

Why she'd been chosen from all of the girls that had been paraded before Mythall's discerning eye, she could not have said. The living goddess must've seen something in her though, because she'd ordered for her to be bathed and dressed in the lavish trappings of a concubine. A title well above the station she held. Yet when asked why, she'd only received a cryptic smile. Now--as Mythall led her through the curtains to the room beyond--she knew why; she was a gift. A new plaything for one that her mistress called kin.

The whole room smelled achingly of perfume; lavish in its opulence for the creatures that prowled its perimeter. Gold and linen and crystal as natural a decoration as leaves on the boughs of a tree; and Mythall was a bird among the branches--so at home as she made her way with clear purpose towards another figure.

But if Mythall were a bird, this being was a wolf. Shrewd eyes of a deep stormy gray that darted between the goddess and herself--a halla brought for slaughter--and back. Yards of fabric and finery and yet when those eyes met her own soft green gaze, there was only one word that came to mind for how she felt. Naked. Breath that she hadn't been aware she'd been holding shuddered through her only once his gaze returned to she who would be called his equal.

His gaze did not phase Mythall; lips curled into a coy grin as she reached to gently prod her towards him.

"I have brought you a Gift, my friend." And with a sudden, firm shove, she was sent tumbling wide eyed into his lap.

[sqgworld]

Fen’Harel and the Trickster God

Okay, so this is an idea that has been floating around in my head for… over a year at this point, and I just feel like I have to share it, because it’s both been nagging at me – making me wonder whether I’m completely nuts for thinking these things – and… it makes me kinda giddy? Because it gives me a chance to talk about a topic I feel I know quite well and that I love: Norse mythology. So, you might be wondering why there’s an “and” in this thing’s title, and it will become immediately apparent when I say that this entire thing is gonna revolve around the parallels I have found between the representations of Fen’Harel (of Dragon Age (DA) fame) and Loki (emphatically not the one of Marvel fame, however) as they are presented in their respective mythologies.

Obviously, we’ve got the connection that they are both trickster gods – the elven word “harellan” directly means “trickster”, as I’m sure you know –, which is a good starting point, but the similarities go beyond that. Here we will more closely be looking at three major points of comparison: the lupine connotations they both have associated with them; the reported ability to walk freely among both sets of “deities” present within their mythological worlds; and their direct involvement in the end of the worlds of the people that they were said to preside over. If you know anything about Norse myth, I’m sure these points ring a few bells already, but if you still wanna hear more – or don’t do Norse and find yourself curious nonetheless –, then the details will be found under the cut below.

So, are we ready? Good, let’s begin!

The first point: lupine connotations. This one is obvious for Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf, so that’s not where the questions are going to arise – heck, the “Elven language” Dragon Age Wiki even tells us that the word “fen” just straight up means wolf, a suspicion I had after I had noticed that we have two prominent figures in the DA verse that have that… prefix? in their names and are associated with wolves; Fen’Harel (no duh) and Fenris, the “little wolf”. And it’s with that second name that I first found a connection between DA and Norse myth – though back then it was more of a “hey! they named one of their characters after a prominent figure in the mythology! nice!” than any deeper thought – and where Loki finally comes into the picture. Again, those of you that know the mythos know where this is going, because while Loki might not directly have any lupine things associated with him, he has got a very prominent son that is most certainly lupine; the Fenris Wolf, or Fenrir, for those that prefer. I think you get the picture.

So, even the elven language has got a word ripped directly out of Norse mythology, that is used as the noun for the kind of animal that originally held the ripped name. Pretty cool stuff, if you ask me, but then again, I may just be a nerd.

Who am I kidding; I am absolutely a nerd.

Second point: blending in with both “deific” sets. I put “deities” and “deific” in quotation marks, because in the Norse case, one group is not really so much gods as very powerful nature spirits, but we’ll get back to that point. Anyone that has ever read a DA Codex Entry on Fen’Harel probably remember reading somewhere that he had the unique ability to walk amongst both the Creators – the good gods in the elven religion of DA, for those that don’t know – and the Forgotten Ones – the bad gods, to oversimplify – and be understood as one of them; the Creators thought he was one of their kind, the Forgotten Ones thought that he was one of them. Okay, so Loki? Well, to anyone that has ever had a dive into the Marvel version of Norse myth, I want you to throw what you think you know about this character out the window for a second – or do as I have done, and create a separate folder in your brain for “Nature Boy” and “Popsicle the Frost Thing” – yeah, and just take my word for this. Loki is the only one of the prominent Norse gods that has the distinction of being half Æsir – what most all the other gods in Asgard are – and half Jotun (though he is by no means the only of the gods to have Jotun parentage, so why he’s the only one that counts that way, I don’t know; polytheisms, I guess). Remember those strong nature spirits I mentioned just above? That’s what the Jotuns are (and this is why “Popsicle the Frost Thing” needs his own box); they wield all sorts of nature magic and are very powerful and, yes, the natural enemies of the Æsir. And what can Loki do because of his prominent mixed heritage? That’s right; walk amongst both groups like he belongs.

There is the underlying connotation in DA lore that Fen’Harel doesn’t truly belong with either the Creators or Forgotten Ones (at least the way I read it) and the same holds very true for Loki, who always seems to be on kind of thin ice (pun not intended) with both the groups he mingles with, but manages to maintain his status in both places both because of and in spite of his mixed heritage.

Okay, so last point: the ends of their respective worlds (which means spoilers for the Trespasser DLC, I guess? but not really). So, from way back in DA:O (Dragon Age: Origins) we know that Fen’Harel somehow managed to trick both the Creators and Forgotten Ones into searching for the ultimate weapons to destroy the other group with and then managed to trap them both in their respective realms. What we then learn in Trespasser is exactly what kinds of consequences that had for the world of the elves. Spoiler alert: it absolutely wrecked their entire shebang. Their empire fell, their lifespans got shortened – the so called “Quickening” – and the nasty humans were allowed to enslave the physically weaker elves, that were now also separated from the magic that their entire way of life depended upon. For the Norse counterpart, let’s talk Ragnarok! Because yes, it is literally all Loki’s fault. He’s the one that starts the whole thing – where the Fenris Wolf jumps up into the sky and eats the f***ing moon – and he fights in the final battle between the Æsir and the Jotuns. Spoiler: everyone dies! Well, not quite…

In fact, both of those “end of the world” scenarios aren’t complete disasters. Y’see, not everyone dies in either of those two occasions. Yes, Elvhenan collapses, but the elves still exist in the Dragon Age of Thedas; Ragnarok kills off almost everyone, but a few gods manage to survive the ordeal as well as a couple of humans, and they then go on to rebuild the worlds. And this is noticeable, because in most doomsday scenarios, it’s just the end of everything; nothing gets out alive, at least not on the “mortal plane”. The Norse end of the world, for all the gloominess and battlelust the rest of the mythology is known for, is oddly enough the one that is the most optimistic about the world, at the end of the day.

But that is moving more into comparing Norse mythology itself with the religion of the Dragon Age elves, which is a whole other affair, with lines not so clear cut as in this particular case study. Though a few quick tidbits I’d like to point out before I sign off completely from this mess I have made:

Both Fen’Harel and Loki have close ties with one of the two primary gods in their respective religions: Loki is Odin’s blood-brother, while Fen’Harel had a close, if somewhat undefined, relationship with Mythal

I once found a source that called Elgar’nan “the All-Father”, and at that point I just surrendered myself completely to the idea of Norse mythos having at least some kind of impact on the entire elven pantheon

Andruil is obviously supposed to be some sort of Artemis/Diana parallel – all of them being huntress gods –, though I know a lot less about Greco-Roman mythology, so I’m not exactly qualified to dive further into that particular subject

Right, well, this thing is now officially long enough to be handed in as an essay for my uni, so I think I’ll stop here. I hope this was at the very least interesting, if not enlightening and please feel free to tell me if there’s anything I missed or if you have had the same kind of ideas!

[despairprayer]

✔ Is this necessary? no. Am I sending it anyway? yes. But like. plot twist; Haurchefant's DAI verse

Send me ✔ and I will bold my preferences for your muse!

My muse(s): A very confused Elvhenan High Priest who has no idea what this Inquisition nonsense is about.

Do I know your muse(s): yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse

Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate universe | other

Pre-established relationships? yes | no | depends on the relationship

Possible relationships: friends | classmate | co-worker | roommate | family, real or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protecter - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | other

I’m in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humor | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other

Feel free to: message me ooc | message me ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of my opens | send a meme | reblog this with your preferences - let’s find common interests! Listen nerd

[emerald-amidst-gold]

🦋👻👨‍🎤FOR FANE <3 <3 <3

Another FRIEND! My humble abode is so full of friends! Welcome, welcome! :D

Let's talk about our resident dragon, shall we? X3 Thank you so much for the ask! <3

🦋 ] does your muse have any unconventional interests? what are they?

One of the major things is that Fane relates a lot of things around him with color. He views the world as grey, as well as himself. He views Solas as 'blue', calm and soothing, an echo of the sky and its unending reach. He views rage and corruption as crimson or black, red hot or a desolating echo. A lot of this has to do with Fane's fixation around poetry and verse. It's also a part of his draconic side which sees color and emotion as the same thing. Red/anger. Blue/serenity. Black/despair. And grey is...the most complicated one for Fane to view because he feels like that color all the time.

So, taking that into account, Fane has a tendency to listen to music or read a certain wall of text (scripture in ruins or poetry) and relate everything he's hearing, seeing, and feeling with color. It's not really a hobby, I know, but it's something that not even many poets or eloquent people do. Many of his companions find it odd and try to question him about it, but then Fane locks up, won't share why he does it because he feels he shouldn't have to explain why. Solas understands, of course, but so does Cole, and it's why our dear cinnamon roll is one of Fane's closest friends next to Solas and Varric. :3

[ 👻 ] does your muse have regrets? what are some of their deepest ones?

So, we all know about the Well of Sorrows, of course, but did you know that Fane is literally the Well of REGRET? My boy has so many regrets. So many that I would be here all night listing them all, so like the second half of the question states, let's go with the deepest.

The first and probably most deepest regret Fane has is that he turned his back on his kin when he was a dragon. When the Evanuris began enslaving dragons along with the elves, Fane...hid. He stole away in the mountains, kept to the edges of the major cities of Elvhenan, and if he happened to stumbled upon one of his kin out in the wild, somehow managing to escape from magic leashes and mind shattering corruption, he would...leave them, ignore them. It was partly because of fear, fear of being turned into what he saw, into a slave. And another part, and the one Fane regrets feeling the most, is that he was filled with pride. He believed himself to be the only true dragon, strong, infallible, and one that would never be broken by pathetic magic of pathetic creatures who thought themselves 'gods'. And how did that turn out for him? Horribly, and Fane regrets it so deeply, so painfully, and it's why he will do anything to atone for his inaction.

"Why would you abandon everything we fought for, brother?! Why would you abandon me?! Is it because of Solas?! Is it because of something I did?!"

"No, My. This isn't just about Solas. And it has never been your fault. I know you don't understand, but--"

"Then make me understand! What's so important that you would betray the Inquisition, our friends?!"

"...My kin."

"Your...what?"

"...I don't have time to explain this to you. The Qunari are getting closer, and I have to get back to the Solas. I'm sorry, sister. Maybe one day I can explain the importance of...action over inaction to you, but not today. Today, you either turn your back or you fight. I choose to do the latter this time, but not for you, not for the Inquisition, not for Thedas, but for the world and the ones who were betrayed, who were leashed."

Another deep regret of Fane's kind pieces together with the one above and that's that he left Solas alone, alone to face a burden that they vowed to shoulder together. Solas had to kill Fane, guide his mind to rest when magic broke it and ancient weapons tore into ivory scales, painting a majestic body crimson and black, alone. Solas had to bear the grief of countless deaths, including Fane's, on his shoulders, alone. Solas had to sleep, power exhausted and mind weary as the world they both knew and loved crumbled, alone. Solas had to wake and wander in a world so stagnant, so quiet, so grey, alone.

Fane left Solas alone. And again, he will do anything to stay by his wolf's side this time, even if it means he has to bloody his hands with those who wish for Fane to be at their side instead. He will not forsake. He will not turn a blade against him.

"You must promise me, ma'isenatha, that if I stray, if I fall too far for your wings to follow, you must turn your back. Promise me.."

"Nothing will take me from you again, Solas. If you fall, I fall. If you stray, I stray. You won't be alone again, my sky. I won't allow it, and I'd rather break my back catching you then turn away."

"...You are an infuriating dragon, you understand that, yes?"

"I'm well aware, but that's why you love me, right?"

"Indeed it is, my heart. Indeed it is.."

[ 👨‍🎤 ] would your muse define themselves as rebellious or by-the-book? what are they, actually?

Fane would probably describe himself as a mixture of both? Like he doesn't conform to what the Dalish do, other than the vallaslin, but that was a personal choice. He goes to great lengths to disassociate entirely from the elves, even though deep down he wished he could be that...simplistic. On the other hand, his draconic nature has him fixating on order, on observing, and on accepting those observations as truth. Obviously, as I've said, Fane's nature is warped and observation and acceptance are replaced with assumptions and prejudice, but he still tries to do what his nature demands. Hence why Fane feels guilty every time he desires something. (Solas, hobbies, etc.).

And I would say he's both, too. Fane will do what he's told to an extent. Meaning, if he sees it as practical, worthwhile, and born from a place of knowledge and adept experience, then he'll follow it. If not...then Fane will make everyone's life a living hell and do it his way. *sweats nervously*

[thema-sal-shiral]

Memories Best Left Behind

Thema’s arrival in Thedas/Elvhenan was not easy, no matter the Universe. It was easier in Thedas, but in Elvhenan it nearly killed her again.

3some AU ‘verse. Lyna is owned by @katalyna-rose , Thema by me.

Warning: Suicide mention, may trigger

Pain wracked her body for years, everything that was before seemed like a dream, a foggy haze. She could barely walk, let alone crawl, and the spirits that would not come near her as a ghost, clustered around her. Purpose guided her hands and feet, Faith kept her fed and Valor drove off fearsome beasts. Every day her bones cracked and broke, fusing back together as her spirit fought for a shape it was used to. The vallaslin bled from her skin, drops of blood and green ink staining the ground of wherever Purpose was taking her.

She woke with a muffled scream, body convulsing in the memory of pain. Thema fled the bed, and her sleeping lovers, only grabbing a robe and didn’t stop until her feet were in the damp soil of Andruil’s gardens. The sun was at its peak that day but the grounds were still and quiet. Ghilan’nain, Andruil and Fen’harel were not supposed to wake for another few weeks and so the servants slept as well and magic maintained the palace.

The soft cotton warded off the chill of Fall even as she stood in the sunlight. Winter was coming soon, all the leaves on the trees in vibrant shades of red, orange and gold, and the Fall flowers were in bloom. She disliked how the Elvhen could cycle seasons away in sleep, around seasons or years awake. It drove her mad if she didn’t mark every day that passed even if it confused her mates. The habits of her home world would never be shaken, the measurement of time a foreign concept in Elvhenan.

And the dream...

No, it was no dream. It was a memory. She had died at her own hands, a bottle of opioids downed like candy, a bottle of premium whiskey chasing them. A forgotten path in the woods of British Columbia, the perfect place to end everything, to choose how she would die. She’d not waste away hours fearing the end, cradling her broken arm to her chest, weeping over cancer in her bones. Fate was just another thing to fight, just as she’d run away from her broken family, run from men and women who wished to claim her, made a stake for herself in illegal fighting rings in the northwest of the US and Canada.

Thema rubbed her arms and took a seat on a marble bench. So much had changed and yet so little at the same time. Death had left her a wandering spirit, somehow brought here to Elvhenan. Those memories were sparse as if she had slept for long periods of time. There was nothing to guide her and the bright glow of Spirits had been the only thing she remembered for a long time and their fear of her. She’d not been like them, born of a singular emotion, she was the birth of despair and rage but neither at the same time.

It was a day like this that she’d found the dying woman. Pointed ears and a soft face marked with an intricate bow, willowy in frame, there had been a moments confusion. What was this? An elf? Coming closer she felt a pull, the confines of an earthly body calling to her, and as the woman’s spirit left she was pulled into the void left behind. The dying body had seized, jerking, gasping for air as life grasped it, shook it and demanded it continue on.

Her mind nearly shattered from the shock of death then rebirth. She had begged for a clean death all that time, dreading the return to being a ghost, but hating the pain even more.

Those years spent readjusting were hell, the body she wore changing. It grew taller as the bones of her body broke and rehealed over and over again, her face longer and angled, teeth breaking when she tried to eat. Skin paled, losing its dark color, and then tanned in the constant sunlight. Black hair fell from the scalp, growing back lighter every time until it was as white as snow. And she was blinded for months at a time until everything finally settled, this alien body now hers in a blend of elvhen and human.

During it all the Spirits guided her through forest and field, past towns and cities, fed her and protected her. Faith, Purpose, and Valor were still her friends even now as they made the Halls of Andruil their home. She owed them everything.

They guided her, naked and scared, into the arms of a Huntress with violet eyes and violet horns on her face. The pain had faded away in her grasp, a concept so foreign after so long that she had nearly gone mad again. Because of that Huntress, she still lived today, after so many years she’d lost count, and she loved her so thoroughly for it.

Thema ran her fingers over the vhenan’nahr, a soft smile on her lips as she felt the love Lyna had for her. Every day she strived to be worthy of her and knew she fell short everytime. One day she would be worthy of the love she was given, prove herself to her mates and maybe find peace of mind.

She left the garden to reclaim her bed, unaware of Purpose’s presence at the bench.

[dirthara-an]

Alright.... the new muse is finished. I can’t believe it. X,D You can find him under @memoriam-spiritu. In his Dragon Age verse, he’s an immortal ancient elf, originally from Elvhenan, who one day washed up at the Inquisition’s fortress in the Western Approach. Feel free, to ask me questions about him and if you want to throw your own muses at him, feel free to do so, or bug me for threads! 8D

[justanartsysideblog]

Secret Sylmae fangirl here! Can we get some more info on her because she's honestly wife goals. Also what happened to her when the Veil went up? What kind of a companion would she be to an Inquisitor?

Hello Secret Sylmae fangirl! Welcome to the Sylmae Squad. XD Sorry I haven’t written much about her yet. I have plenty planned, but I was waiting for a bit more concrete info about the Nameless in Fey’s world before I took a crack at it in earnest. But I can definitely throw out some Sylmae facts!

Under the cut for length!

+ married to Nimronyn, who was the Keeper of their clan. Nimronyn went to sleep, when the Keepers began to realize there were just way too many dragons around and it was getting too much. Sylmae made sure the clan members went to other clans that were safe (@lycheemilkart’s Vitality was a member of the clan, I think?) most of them joined Ireth’s clan, or Merrith’s (the Keeper that Melarue followed when they were just a spirit of Cunning). Sylmae stayed with Nimronyn, guarding her resting place until Andruil came and demanded that she submit to the Evanuris. 

+ Sylmae resisted, and Andruil and Elgar’nan eventually subdued her. She suffered major burns and scarring from torture in one of Andruil’s slave camps. She eventually escaped, and ran off to Nameless territory to live out the rest of her life.

+ Sylmae does not know if Nimronyn still sleeps or if she’s even still alive. 

+ Sylmae is old as dirt. She’s one of the first Waking Born. Like...really, really, really old. Which is why the Evanuris are lucky that Sylmae has not joined the Nameless armies. But Sylmae sees the current Nameless, and sees that they’re turning into tyrants just like the Evanuris, and Sylmae is not a fan of that at all. 

+ Sylmae is known to the Nameless as an ancient elf that lives out in the woods, who they ask for assistance sometimes. She remembers the old ways, and keeps them, and finds old shrines and relics of the pre-Evanuris days and protects them. She’s the Asha’bellenar of Ancient Elvhenan, basically, and the term was used for her, because most don’t know her name.

+ She is called upon and knows the Nameless that still wander as smaller clans in the wilderness more than the ones in the large Nameless encampments and settlements, as they don’t tend to go into the deep woods and mountains where Sylmae lives quite as often.

+ Sylmae is an extremely proficient warrior, but she only uses it when she needs to. She’s also got a blunt personality, and doesn’t seem to smile. But she’s very gentle and will go out of her way to help others, if she can.

+ Can shift into a harpy eagle. She used to fly with Nimronyn often.

+ favors using two hatchets or a bo staff to fight

+ really wants to go into uthenera, but she’s afraid of what she’ll find there, because she’s almost entirely certain that Nimronyn is dead or has gone mad somehow, and that the same fate awaits her...

+ likes fishing

+ also a really big fan of candied figs

+ has never lost an arm wrestling match that she’s been challenged to

+ I imagine, when the Veil went up, she was probably either hiding out somewhere deep in the mountains or in Uthenera. When the Veil went up, she probably went out into the world and tried to help the People who were suffering from the sudden loss of immortality and magic. Living out in the wilderness where the connection to the Dreaming can be far away, one learns how to live without it, so she’s well-versed in such things.

+ oh man, as a companion she’d be great. XD Hm...I imagine she’d be a Dalish Warrior-Mage, from a deep mountain clan, reclusive, they probably don’t make contact with humans often. She’d probably actually be a Keeper, all things considered. Perhaps her late wife was the original Keeper, and something terrible happened--some humans came, murdered her, and Sylmae has been trying to keep the rest of the clan alive but then a few years go by and the Rifts happen and the human settlements nearby get really, really antagonistict so Sylmae decides their best bet is to go to the Inquisition to seek answers and perhaps aid? 

+ She’d be romanceable for any female Inquisitor, but it would be a very, very slow burn.