#'dalish elf asking who mythal is' moment

[proffbon]

"Tell me about Voidborn," I ask my Voidborn advisors, as if I myself am not a Voidborn.

[brekkie-e]

Something I think about a lot when it comes to the Vallaslin debacle- whether they should be maintained as a tradition in the future and what they meant in the past- is Felassan's place in the rebellion.

Felassan and Vallaslin theory under the cut.

We see some of Solas's agent's in Trespasser, Tevinter Night's, and other media. And it's a bit of a toss up whether an ancient elf who serves Solas has Vallaslin or not. Based off the info we have about the rebellion and what the Vallaslin were, one would assume anyone who makes it to Solas's side wants theirs off. Isn't that notion backed up by the murals we see in Inquisition? Solas taking off Vallaslin by the dozens?

Which brings us back to the agents who still wear them. The first thought that jumps into my head is, "Oh, these must be spies then. People who opted to keep them as a way of offering a specific service to The Cause™️."

And…. That brings me back to Felassan. He's not a spy. He's a general. One might argue he could have fulfilled the role of a spy at some point or another. But in TME- he's not working overly hard to fit in. The guy is unapologetically behaving as himself. He doesn't care if he actually believably passes as a Dalish guy. Sure, he brings up old tales, but the whole time he's practically begging Briala to ask him if he's really Dalish.

In the memories we see of him and Solas, he's a second in command. He's leading people on battlefields. There's literally nothing he does in the name of subtlety. I don’t really see him as a character who has “cut out for spy work” in their resume.

So why does he still have Vallaslin? If any free elf of Solas's time wanted them gone, if they served no deeper cultural purpose than to mark someone as property, Felassan's decision to keep them is called in to question. His role in the rebellion that we get to witness would make sending him to spy a moot point. He's a known entity. He's the Wolf's right hand. So why does the Wolf's right hand wear the very thing that Solas hates on his face with no shame? The codexes he wrote in Veilgaurd don’t scream to me that he carried any significant devotion to Mythal, let alone in a capacity that rivaled Solas’. In TME, he tosses out “Mythal’s tit’s” or “Mythal’s bosom” whenever he finds the chance. So why would Felassan keep a mark of fealty to her when Solas, in contrast, does not.

My point being is, I stand by the idea that even before the Dalish- the Vallaslin meant something to the Elvhen people beyond slavery. To maintain such specific designs through the ages after Elvhenan fell- they had to have maintained the tradition from day one. Fought tooth and nail to keep it from dying out during the Empire's reign. When an Inquisitor tells Solas they want to keep them, he honestly reacts like it’s not the first time he’s heard that response before. Which makes sense when you think of his closeness to Felassan. I wonder if she reminded him of his friend in that moment.

Whether the writer's want us to think they were maintained with full understanding of what they were from the jump, I don't know. But it's the only conclusion I have ever been able to come to that makes any sense to me. It has never been a possibility to me that they only began the tradition of wearing them again once they made home in the Dales.

This is full fanon territory now, but here are some of my thoughts on what they might have began as. With the revelation of the Elvhen connection to spirits, perhaps it was a way to signify which variety of spirit you originated from. I know Felassan gives off the impression that he’s younger than Solas, but I still think he was a spirit that made a body. “He sat crossed-legged, calmed his breathing until he found his true self inside the shell of his flesh, and sprinkled the herbs over the fire.” This is a line in the last few pages of TME, and I don’t know about you but that sounds like someone who feels they’re a spirit inside a meat suit to me. Now, we all saw how much Solas looked like Mythal’s Vallaslin as a spirit. Part of my theory here is that her Vallaslin wasn’t a direct copy of him, but an homage to the archetype of spirit they were. If I had to make an educated guess, I would say Felassan was a wisdom spirit. His dynamic with Briala is based on guiding her to conclusions and helping her figure things out on her own. Not unlike Solas and the Inquisitor. Except Felassan looked at the young woman thousands of years his junior and developed a paternal bond with her instead of a romantic one because he’s a king with standards. Point being, if the original wisdom spirits gravitated to looking like Solas- then Felassan might have looked like that as well at one point.

I don’t think I’m the first person to wonder if the Vallaslin were all based off the Evanuris’ spirit forms, but I keep getting caught up in how that began. There’s something interesting to me about wondering if they had a hard time adjusting to their new bodies and way they experienced emotions similarly to how Cole did. Solas talks at some point about how feelings worked differently in the Fade. I can’t help but wonder if the very first Vallaslin were an attempt to identify themselves. Put their true nature on their face since it was now hidden behind a flesh mask. If it helped old friends recognize one another despite new forms.

I also like this because of how it would mean that the Dalish wouldn’t necessarily have the core concept behind the Vallaslin wrong. They have placed a misguided religious notion on it, but in the end the decision of which god they honor with their Vallaslin is also a declaration of which spirit they identify with most. It declares something about their nature that others can discern just by seeing the marks on their face. The real reason behind the practice may have been lost but in some round about way the purpose was not.

Now, I should note that there are a few holes in my theory. I don’t know that I think they entirely sink it because so much of the lore has layers, but they’re there. The first is the fact Dirth���amen and Falon’din seem to be one spirit split in two. Whether that happened before they took a body or not, I’m unsure. If the split happened before- I don’t think that detracts from my musings because it means they could have developed further into fully realized separate spirits. But if it happened after it does beg the question why people would give them seperate Vallaslin outside of slave marking purposes. The other, and most damning, point is Cole’s line about Solas burning Mythal’s mark off his face. If the mark was to represent his spirit nature then why would it be referred to as her mark as opposed to his? Unless the line between Vallaslin for self expression and slave brands was blurred very early on. Though, it’s still not out of the realm of possibility that it began as one thing and by the time he got rid of his marks it meant another.

Anyways, regardless of the origins and my theories- we have atleast one significant Ancient Elvhen character who had every reason to remove his Vallaslin but didn’t. So when asking questions about the future of the Dalish and this custom- I’m always going to keep Felassan in the back of my mind. If someone who lived the worst of their cultural meaning, and was incredibly close to Solas still opted to keep his then the modern Dalish have every right to as well.

The irony of using Felassan, the certified Dalish Hater, to advocate for Dalish cultural value is not lost on me. I don’t apologize.

[hoboblaidd]

[ APPROVAL ] + intentionally playing ignorant with morrigan so she can correct the shem when she gets something wrong; big, innocent eyes when she asks questions like "who's mythal?"

ask meme | solas greatly (dis)approves

“Truthfully,” said Morrigan, with the smug air of superiority she’d worn since they passed the first broken statue of a hart that she’d attributed to the cult of Andruil. “I am uncertain Mythal was even a single entity.”

If Solas had been holding his staff, it would have shattered. He paused only to choose which of the five incredibly angry (and certainly not smugly superior) remarks he would levy at her, until behind him, in an earnest tone, Dhavihal, First of Clan Lavellan, Fierce Advocate for the Dalish People, and a woman he’d once watched chase a halla for two days, asked:

“‘Mythal’? Who is this ‘Mythal’?”

Solas turned on his heel so quickly that his pack almost hit Varric. The look he fixed upon Dhavi defied description, but was some intersection between aghast, bewildered, betrayed, and disappointed. A busy intersection.

It was his shock alone that kept him silent the few seconds it took to see that within Dhavi’s incredibly earnest expression, there was the same expression she’d worn when they were ‘teaching Elvhen’ to Mother Giselle.

“How would one congratulate a proud Dalish warrior on embracing an open mind in the face of the Maker’s splendor?” “Emma salin,” Solas had said without hesitation. When Mother Giselle turned to the Inquisitor for confirmation, a ‘safer’ elf than an outspoken apostate, since she was, after all, Andraste’s Herald, Dhavi, too, did not hesitate. “Indeed,” she said stoically. “The greatest honor for a ‘proud Dalish warrior’ is to congratulate that which is within her.” And then she’d turned to Solas and, as illustration, fixed him with another cherubic smile. “Emma salin, vhenan.”

Solas’ moments of silence were enough invitation for Morrigan to launch into several apocryphal and contradictory tales of Mythal, managing to weave the Old Gods of Tevinter into it all for good measure.

When Morrigan turned to (incorrectly) identify a mosaic, Dhavi followed dutifully. But not before whispering, “Emma salin, vhenan.”

“That could be arranged,” he said.

Solas could not possibly approve more.

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

A Talk in the Gardens

One of those aforementioned drabbles circa 2020. Lavellan & Dorian have a sweet chat during their visit to the Sunburst Throne. It can be hard to find a moment of reprieve when the world's about to end, and it's even harder when you're parents to a rambunctious hero in the making.

___

Basking like a cat in the summer sun, Mahvir Lavellan nestles himself in the Grand Cathedral's gardens. Orlais was beautiful this time of year, and he thoroughly enjoys hiding among the teeming wildlife. The flowers threaten to loom over his head, from the overgrown rose bushes to the blooms of crystal grace.

The sweet aroma engulfs his senses and makes him drowsy, it wouldn't be amiss if someone caught him purring, or mumbling about a past life and happier times. An elf was most in his element in nature, even in the confines of towering concrete walls on all sides. To the Dalish elf, the garden reminds him of the home he lost years ago. He was visiting the Sunburst Throne; the entire Inner Circle was. It was one of those rare summits where Divine Victoria allowed all her old friends to gather. The topic of this meeting was, of course, Fen'Harel.

Currently, they were on a recess. Thus, the retired Inquisitor found a refuge where he knew it best.

He forces his closed eyes apart when he hears the rumble of clumsy feet marching toward him.

He was not surprised to see his niece and nephew, Ellana's twins, or his own son leading them into the tulips. A warning rumbled in the back of his throat. The warmth in the air had made him sluggish.

Another voice, dangerously intoxicant in its familiarity, beat him to it.

"Stay clear of the flowers, unless you want to be replanting them!" Dorian's tone, while stern, easily frays with his fondness for the children.

Mahvir turns to greet him with a welcoming smile. "Dorian Pavus braving the outside world? the cathedral must be on fire."

The mage huffs before sinking to sit on the bench beside him. "The children wanted to play and I offered to watch them." His grey eyes followed after the troop of three as they changed course towards the pond a few yards away. "I don't get to see the twins enough. They are a spitting image of their parents."

Mahvir hums in agreement as he scoots closer, resting his head against Dorian's shoulder. "Does it bother you? That Alec doesn't look like us?"

A short laugh tumbles from the Magister as his gaze lingers on the young elf in question. The boy had the most unruly brunette locks and the most vibrant green eyes he'd ever seen. "It only bothers me that I can not claim him by name. I am happy he is a Lavellan, but I wish he could also be a Pavus."

Mahvir seeks out his lover's hand, offering it a reassuring squeeze. "He is a Pavus, and the people who matter are the ones who know it."

"He is my son," Dorian murmurs forcefully. Whether it was to convince himself or the world around them, Mahvir wasn't sure.

"He is, Vehnan, and he'll never doubt it."

Dorian dismisses the conversation with a wave of his free hand. "I suppose you're right, although he is like you in every other way. The way he gives those puppy eyes when he wants something? It's insufferable."

It is Mahvir's turn to laugh, and he does so joyously. "It is only insufferable because you fall for it! And Nellie, Mythal's Mercy, she is just like you. That clever tongue of hers will get her in trouble one day."

"Oh, but that's the best trouble to be in."

"You would know."

They lapse into silence. Comfortable. Peaceful.

Their moment is broken by a chorus of disgruntled shouting in the distance, muffled by towering hedges and reeds. Dorian sighs and pushes himself to his feet. "I suppose that is my cue. I would ask you to come with me, but you seemed to enjoy your nap."

"It's been a while since I've had one."

Dorian moves to step away, but he is caught by arms slinking around his waist. One made of flesh and the other made of metal.

Mahvir pulls him back in, and the embrace is nearly bone-crushing. The elf presses his face against the mage's abdomen, nuzzling against the soft fabric of his robes. He waits as if he is holding the other man hostage, until he feels careful hands brush through his chestnut hair.

"I love you, Dorian." He murmurs as if it was some secret between them.

Dorian takes a step away, releasing himself from the elf's hold, before bending down to take Mahvir's face between his hands, caressing his jaw with the pad of his thumb. They stay this way for a long moment, as the world grows still.

Dorian remains transfixed on his lover's face, from the faint strays of silver in his chestnut hair to the tiredness in his amber eyes. He leans in to kiss the wrinkles (some from worry, but more from laughter) that creased his loving expression. "Rest well, my beloved."

[soartfullydone]

12 and 45 for Rook Riven. 5, 11, and 50 for Kione!

Riven Laidir Arnor

12. Does Rook have any family? Do they keep in touch?

Yeah, she still has her da, Erosen, and I imagine their relationship's a lot better off living in a Dalish clan, which is more community-based, than in the campaign. It was Erosen who originally suggested she travel for awhile after the truth of the vallaslin originally being slave markings came to light. Wearing the blood writing of Mythal himself, he refused to allow Riven to undergo the ritual when she came of age, causing a deeper rift in a clan that was already divided on the issue of embracing or rejecting this tradition. Luckily, Riven had been vocally against getting her own vallaslin beforehand and the Keeper was willing to relent, but it doesn't change the fact that blood writing and its application practices are a heated topic in the clan.

Neither of them expected her to be gone so long, however and he's definitely past worried and missing her greatly. They're both from a clan in Southern Thedas, so Riven is currently farther north than she's ever been. She tries to write her da frequently, but her letters have been frustratingly vague lately in case any are intercepted, and she's falling off her schedule of writing with greater frequency. Nobody is happy about this. 45. Who was Rook’s closest friend before joining the Veilguard?

I could see Eravin living more contently in a Dragon Age Dalish clan than I ever could see Delethil, who is likely running cons in some Southern city right now, making humans wish owning elves was still legal. Without the moon elf/wood elf politics, Riven has a much better time of making friends, so there's probably plenty of friends back home that she misses. Lasses with names like Ashla, Unarial, and Maylen. Kione Ingellvar

5. What was life like for Rook before joining the Veilguard?

Kione grew up exclusively in the Grand Necropolis, surrounded by death and the dark. Frankly, she thinks people outside its grand, decrepit halls are nowhere near as adjusted. "Weren't you lonely?" people ask. Of course not! Between her fellow Watchers, drifting spirits, hard-working skeletons, and curious wisps, she hardly has a moment to herself and zero privacy. She's quite social. "But isn't it creepy?" What a silly question! We all have a skeleton inside of us, you know.

That being said, before the Veilguard, Kione's life was very structured. Studies of the Fade. Learning necromancy. Her responsibilities as a Mourn Watcher. Practicing drills for when the demons inevitably show up. Embalming and caring for the dead. Guiding the living to their loved one's last words. She barely has time to even research what it means to be an elf, why she was born in a crypt, who her parents might've been. Was she meant to be Dalish or a city elf? (Neither feels right.) Should she tattoo her own vallaslin, or will she regret it? (She does, kinda.) How worried should she be about Tevinter's proximity to Nevarra? (A little, all the time.)

11. Does Rook keep up with current events? (How aware of the situation are they at the start of the game?)

Unless you're involved with curating texts, current events trickle down to the Necropolis at a glacial pace until current has become old news. It's not that anything is deliberately hidden or not discussed amongst colleagues and initiates; it's just that folks are concerned more with the dead down here, not the affairs of the living. People learn about current events outside its walls, not while they're absorbed in their work.

Other Mourn Watchers also leave the Necropolis much more than Kione does, to give lectures to councils and at universities, to attend to awry funerary rights and malicious corpse possessions, etc. Kione has only started to do the latter two recently and can't quite understand why other Watchers willingly live outside the Necropolis' walls.

So, despite being a quick learner and adaptable, Kione isn't grasping the scope of what she's become involved in. She knows it's a good thing to prevent mass death on a global scale (her colleagues couldn't handle such a flood of work), she knows it's better for Nevarra if the chaos in Tevinter is quelled, and she knows it will be good, politically, for an elf to stop another elf from destroying the world. (And these are supposed to be "her" gods? What gods? She's Nevarran and doesn't even bat for the Chantry. She can't be expected to claim this, right?) She's looking forward to taking care of it all in a snap and getting back home to read a thick tome by wisp light :) 50. Are they a mystery, or an open book?

A bit of both. She's cheerful and sociable, more than enough to let people in. Kione knows herself, but also doesn't and the mystery of her origins lends her an air of mystery that she doesn't intend. She knows who she is and the conditions that made her, but she doesn't know who she's "supposed" to be, how the world views her outside of the Grand Necropolis. She's not sure if she's supposed to care and doesn't know why she does. And most people outside Nevarra treat their dead very differently, so her views of the dead and death magic draw increasingly weird looks from those around her, which she isn't used to. Doesn't know what to do with them, to be honest, except try to educate and explain. Weird how a lot of people don't like that?

She just knows that she's found a place where she fits, and she's not letting it get destroyed on her watch. (She would actually find quite a lot in common with underground dwarves and their mindsets/way of life, if this party had any.)

[foxx-queen]

so i was trying to work out why flemeth / mythal being the big bad doesn't sit right with me , beyond being a fan of her character, and i think i've finally worked it out? it's because solas is the villain

whether you like him or not, solas is the villain of the next game / responsible for the villain of dai, and everything he's done supports that. turning it into a 'oh he has actually been manipulated the entire time' doesn't suddenly absolve him of anything he's done. aside from almost causing the last apocalypse, and intending to cause the next one that he'll just have control over while everyone dies, even his attitude is very similar to every other villain we've encountered so far.

solas thinks that his way is the only way. loghain and meredith were the same. solas believes that the world as it is now and every other race in it, including elves, are beneath him, and doesn't even really consider them to be people. this is very similar to corypheus' attitude, even down to wanting to restore a lost kingdom to its former glory. if he does actually succeed in tearing down the veil and destroying the current world that'll leave him pretty much in complete power (presuming that he has plans to kill the elven gods / old gods trapped in the veil / beneath the earth) with only spirits for company, who he considers the only 'real' people. he'll basically obtain what corypheus wanted. maybe one of the most telling moments about his character is from a conversation with vivienne. when vivienne asks him what his solution would be for the dangers of magic without a circle, she asks him what he would do if mages became possessed, or used their power to harm, and solas says, 'i would kill them'. vivienne's follow up comment, 'so you alone would pass judgement, repay murder with murder, or do we open this up to mobs and vigilantes? if you're going to dispense judgment upon violent mages yourself, you'll need eternal life and omniscience'. solas sees himself just as that, all knowing and all wise and the only person who is right, even though we know he's not.

solas' attitude never changes – even if you romance him / become friends with him, he still sees you as an outlier of your people, regardless of whether you're human/elf/dwarf/qunari, and if you try and point out that he might've been wrong about people in general, he refuses to even consider the fact. he's prideful and often arrogant – he complains that the dalish are ignorant and that they wouldn't listen to him when he tried to tell them the 'truth', and puts no effort into understanding why the dalish might've struggled to believe a random elf showing up to say that they were wrong with no proof to back up his claims, or why they might've been offended, which is understandable given how he can be openly mocking towards a dalish inquisitor. he literally kills mythal, who was apparently his friend, for her power, because he thinks he's the only one who can save 'the people' even though those people are long dead. he might apologise to the inquisitor, but none of it has any weight to it considering everything he's done and what he plans to do, and it's obvious that he doesn't actually feel any regret, because at the end of the day he doesn't believe that the people who have died because of him are people.

there's a lot of speculation about whether solas can be redeemed, and i think the idea that he's being manipulated might be part of that. i personally don't think he will be – he's been set up as the villain with an entire game establishing that, and he would have to go through massive character development for that to happen, which seems unlikely considering the da4 protagonist won't even be his friend, but rather someone very much set to stop him. any chance of that character development / change of heart was in dai, and nothing happened. as he is now, it would be incredibly out of character for him to suddenly change his mind, because he's shown that he doesn't do that. he's incapable of considering another view point, or that he's in the wrong. he has far too much pride for that. i honestly think he'll end up being killed, and that as he's dying he'll see a glimpse of the world that will come afterwards (maybe one that restores things without destroying the current world, ie the compromise / balance he won't even consider), and that at that point there'll be an option to say that this is what he could've experienced, or to just say he was wrong.

[thejabberwokk]

Dalish Appreciation Week #2- Craft

@dalish-appreciation-week

#2- Craft

Rating- G

Featuring Warden Commander Isabeaux Tabris

(I wanted her to get to experience an Arlathvhen, Zathrian was a butt, but his clan was nice.")

Trying to whittle wood was always hard for her. Her fingers always trembled when it came to the fine details. It's why embroidery was never expected of her while she was a girl. That and well, the alienage was NOT quite the home of refinement.

“Could hold a knife, that one, but a needle is too delicate" she remembered her mum saying. 

Red eyes gazed at the poorly formed halla in her hands. She was ashamed at its odd angles and uneven shapes. ‘No skill to be had for one with elven blood.’ As she had been told repeatedly.

Warden Isabeaux heaved a heavy sigh, dropped her knife and ugly stick to the ground. Elbows landing on knees, chin landing in hands, ears dropping and face falling into a petulant scowl. 

She couldn't whittle.

The human wardens could whittle. Why couldn't her fingers do it?!

She watched as the elders in the circle chatted, and chuckled and enjoyed themselves. Their knives and fingers deftly making tiny amazement out of mundane stock. 

Zevran would smirk and goad her if he could see her now. ‘Oh mi amor, you are so deft with your fingers with other hardwoods, what’s a mere branch of pine?’ She flushed crimson at her impression of her Sunshine.

He had found his fingers in beadwork. Delicate confections of beads and pearls. Gems and velvets and satins and chains. Careful hair nets and caplets for his favorites in the orphanage. 

He could string a set of the tiniest, littlest seed beads you have ever seen, without a thought.

And her hands that could guide a blade cleanly through any surface… couldn’t through wood. 

She shook her head in dejection; A city elf shouldn't even be here. But she was a Warden…and Zathrian’s clan had asked her to join them as their guest.

She stood up abruptly, a few of the others in the circle taking notice, but their projects were still well in hand and soon returned too.

Leaving the circle of crafters to wander, she decided to see if anyone else had something that her hands may yet draft too. 

She never had an eye for drawing. Sculpting made no sense.  Dance was all left feet while she was a lead foot on right.

She was never afforded musical training. A bow was as close to a harp as a battle cry was to a choral. 

She paused at a fire of elders. No papers, no instruments or weapons seen.

They seemed willing to gaze at the fire.

So she waited. Annoyed and curious. 

“And thus the slow arrow falls" she catches the end of the prose.

‘Not sure what to make of it, exactly, but a slow arrow catches those unaware; even the shooter. You don’t know exactly where your quarry will scatter. He has created enemies, willing to protect the ones who cannot fight?’ she asks;

“What is the moral of this tale, who has been betrayed and why?”

The Dalish around her gaped for a moment, then recognizing her outsider status, chose to entertain her.

They relay the traditional message, the idea that the God of Rebellion is also of I'll omen and a major source of their collective woes. 

And she is inspired

“The slow arrow falls, claiming its kill. The people weep and grieve, give reluctant praise. But he who shot said arrow is far removed, beyond the outcome's touch. They do not understand individual grief, who the people feel to be so targeted. Only self preservation and instilling harsh truths.

“And the archer looks on, chagrined if not bemused, as those who sought to flee now unite.

“By becoming the focus of their hate they will have a clear path. 

"Hate the old gods. The abandoned. 

"Mythal and Andraste and Tridda. Women of fire and vengeance and force! Whose husband's are of punishment and violence. Of war.

“Rebellion requires focus, a spark, fury and passion and kindness."

She stares deep into the flames. Memories of towns full of undead, the fade full of demons and offers. An Arch Demon uniting a squabbling set of factions. Her forces rally with collective grief, and overwhelming hope.

“The slow arrow falls, and in its wake, comes change.” Refocusing, she looks about the circle, the men and women with blood writing on their faces staring incredulously at her.

“That is… not quite right, da’len,” one speaks up, voice gentle and a bit bemused. Her shoulders sag a bit at their tone, embarrassed for letting her mouth wander.

“But, it is an interpretation that may have merit. You have seen much in your life.” the elder shifts on the blanket they are lounging on, making space. 

“Come sit, let's see what other stories you have an answer for.”

Isabeaux beams, and eagerly waits for the next tale to be shared.

[lavellander]

hello im feeling extra “touch the stove”-y today so. i was looking for any dialogue where solas just straight up lies and (of what i could find online/transcribed, obv) i didnt find anything that was 100% untrue. he’ll completely avoid the question, change the subject, give part of the truth, etc etc etc, but nothing was just Entirely A Lie

what really gets me is that there’s a handful of convos where someone infers something from what solas says, and he will even point out that he didn’t directly say that. like, he tells people how to see through his shit, lmao

here is an embarrassingly long ass list of examples, all sorted by what kind of not-lying he’s doing lol, just bc i am unhinged<3

*note that some of these are cut from longer bits of dialogue or have been split up from one conversation into different categories*

literally just Not Answering The Question lol

Dorian: How much “will” do they have? They’re amorphous constructs of the Fade. Solas: Hmm.

Dorian: Solas, have I offended you? Solas: If you have, why would it concern you?

Dorian: Solas, what is this whole look of yours about? Solas: I’m sorry? Dorian: No, that outfit is sorry. What are you supposed to be, some kind of woodsman? Dorian: Is it a Dalish thing? Don’t you dislike the Dalish? Or is it some kind of statement? Solas: No.

Dorian: Let me get this straight, Solas. Dorian: You’re an apostate – neither Dalish nor city elf – who lived alone in the woods studying spirits. Solas: Is that a problem for you?

Solas: [has a whole tactical moment about the red jennies lmao] Sera: Where d’you get all this, then? Solas: Do you wish to be unnerved by another tale of my explorations of the Fade? Or do you wish to learn something?

Vivienne: You must be pleased with what was revealed at the Temple of Mythal, Solas. Solas: Why should those ruins please me, Enchanter?

changing the subject before he backs himself into a corner

Gatt: I don’t see any tattoos, but you’re carrying a staff. Are you from a Chantry Circle? Solas: No. And I would prefer not to discuss it.

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing. Varric: What’s so confusing about endless darkspawn? Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter.

giving the truth, but not the whole truth

Blackwall: Skyhold. How did you find it? Solas: I looked. Blackwall: Now you sound like Cole. You looked? Solas: This world is full of wonders for those who seek them.

Blackwall: You spoke of seeing death and destruction. Did you fight in a war? Solas: There are struggles across Thedas at any given time. I doubt you would have heard of it. Blackwall: An elven skirmish? Solas: In a manner of speaking, yes.

Cassandra: Solas, have you always lived alone? Out in the wilderness, as an apostate? Solas: For the most part.

Cassandra: Have you ever encountered templars before? Solas: Only at a distance. I am an apostate, after all. Cassandra: And they never caught you even once? Solas: I am a very careful apostate.

Dorian: We found elves, living ancient elves, at the Temple of Mythal. Does that bother you, Solas? If Inquisitor allied with the Sentinels: Solas: I am pleased we were not forced to kill them, if that’s what you mean.

Iron Bull: You’ve got an odd style, Solas. Your spells are a bit different from the Circle mages or the Vints. Solas: That comes from being self-taught. Solas: I discovered most of my magic on my own, or learned it from my journeys in the Fade.

Vivienne: So, an apostate? Solas: That is correct, Enchanter. I did not train in your Circle.

Solas: You are a man who made a choice... possibly the first of your life. Iron Bull: I’ve always liked fighting. What if I turn savage, like the other Tal-Vashoth? Solas: You have the Inquisition, you have the Inquisitor... and you have me.

from cutscene at beginning Inquisitor: [mentions the anchor closing a rift] Solas: Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct.

from cutscene at beginning Solas: [to a Dalish Inq] You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here? Inquisitor: What do you know of the Dalish? Solas: I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. Inquisitor: [Crossed paths? dialogue choice] Solas: I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.

from “I’d like to know more about you” convo in Haven Inquisitor: What made you start studying the Fade? Solas: I grew up in a village to the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined. I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, became troublesome.

actually telling the truth but no one picks up on the gravity of it

Solas: [...] I believe the elven gods existed, as did the old gods of Tevinter. But I do not think any of them were gods, unless you expand the definition of the word to the point of absurdity. I appreciate the idea of your Maker, a god that does not need to prove his power. I wish more such gods felt the same. Cassandra: You have seen much sadness in your journeys, Solas. Following the Maker might offer some hope. Solas: I have people, Seeker. The greatest triumphs and tragedies this world has known can all be traced to people.

Cole: No, inside. I don’t hear your hurt as much. Your song is softer, subtler, not silent but still. Solas: How small the pain of one man seems when weighted against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples.

Cole: You didn’t do it to be right. You did it to save them. Inquisitor: Solas, what is Cole talking about? Solas: A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything.

Solas: Empires rise and fall. Arlathan was no more “innocent” than your own Tevinter in its time. Solas: Your nostalgia for the ancient elves, however romanticized, is pointless.

Solas: Our people used to be here. Sera: Pfft, you say that everywhere. Solas: It is more true than you want to believe.

Vivienne: You must be pleased, apostate. With the Templars dissolved, your rebels will be most difficult to pacify. Solas: My rebels? Am I an agent for their cause, whispering poison into the Inquisition’s ears? Solas: How comforting. Vivienne: You enjoy seeing yourself as a villain? Solas: No more than any other clever man who wonders what he could do if pushed.

Vivienne: [about the Temple of Mythal] Now you know the elves were once a mighty nation. Solas: I always knew, Enchanter. The Temple of Mythal is just another reminder of what was lost.

(in the Emerald Graves): These forests have changed much since I was last here.

during the Fade!Haven cutscene Solas: It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture... and right then, I felt the whole world change. Inquisitor: [romance option] “Felt the whole world change?” Solas: A figure of speech. Inquisitor: I’m aware of the metaphor. I’m more interested in felt. Solas: You change... everything.

pointing out that people assume he means things he did not directly say

Cole: There is pain though, still within you. Solas: And I never said there was not.

Solas: You may well become fully human, after all. I never thought to see it. Cole: When did you see it before? Solas: I did not say that I had.

Iron Bull: We’ve got the alliance with my people. Given how much you love the Qun, I figured... Solas: I might scold you? Berate you for your decisions? Iron Bull: Hey. The Chargers died as heroes for the good of the mission. Solas: I never said otherwise.

Sera: Don’t you start. Solas: I’m reasonably certain I said nothing.

Vivienne: [talking shit about grey warden mages] Solas: I never claimed mages should be above the law, Enchanter. Vivienne: No, darling. You merely implied it, while offering no viable suggestions for improvement.

after infamous “side benefits” dialogue Warrior Inquisitor: You find my muscles enjoyable? Solas: I meant that you enjoyed having them, presumably. Warrior Inquisitor: Ah. Solas: But yes... since you asked.

diminishing things he does actually know by saying he he “believes” or “thinks,” or that things were vaguely “said” or “told”

Solas: I say what I believe to be true, even if it gives offense to those who prefer the lie.

Dorian: That orb Corypheus carries... are you certain it’s of elven origin, Solas? Solas: I believe so. Why do you ask?

Solas: It is said that we lived at a pace that sustained us for... ages.

making it sound like he’s talking about something/someone else, but it’s just him lmao

Cole: Do you know a lot about wolves? Solas: I know that they are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools think of as terrible beasts.

Solas: No man can kill so many people without breaking inside. To survive... those you fight must become monsters. Iron Bull: The ones that kill innocent people, yeah. The rest... I don’t know. Solas: The mind does marvelous things to protect itself.

during In Hushed Whispers Inquisitor: I’m glad you understood what he just said because I’m not sure I did. Solas: You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.

misc

this one i wanted to include because it’s the only circumstance (that i came across) where someone directly asks solas to lie and he literally says he can’t

during the fucking crestwood breakup scene Inquisitor: [angry option] Tell me you don’t care. Solas: I can’t do that. Inquisitor: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a cold-hearted son of a bitch and move on! Solas: I’m sorry.

*also note that most of these are banter transcriptions from the wiki; some are cutscene / other dialogue posted by either @/daitranscripts or u/karinini on reddit; it’s not all his cutscenes obv, but I’m not about to look up every single one individually sdlkfj*

[wyvernscales]

BIGGEST BRAIN MOMENT of all time:

Ok so Elara’s full name Elara Sabrae of Clan Lavellan because she was born into the Sabrae clan, but once Marethari died and they had no First, they decided to kick it with the Lavellan Clan until the next Arlathvhen or when one of their younger mages came of age.

The Keeper and Hahren of a Dalish Clan often work very close together. Merrill was the First and thus the next in line to be Keeper, and Elara was being trained under Paivel as the next Hahren. So they were obviously close and both passionate about uncovering their lost lore.

After Merrill turns to blood magic to unlock the Eluvian, ever cautious Elara feels it's just too dangerous. Doesn't she remember that Eth'las Mahariel (Elara's husband) died* after messing with the very tainted Eluvian that Merrill's experimenting with? Marethari's growing words of warning only strengthen her fear. They grow apart, and soon Merrill leaves the Clan entirely with a human who seems far too weak to keep her safe in a human city.

And years pass. Marethari's warnings go unheeded and their Keeper lie dead from trying to protect a ghost.** To Elara, the price was paid in the Keeper's blood, and what happened to the Eluvian no longer matters to her. The remaining Sabrae Clan bury their dead and leave Sundermount.

Then the Inquisition happens. Elara is all but forced into taking risks to protect what's important to her. After Brielle Lavellan goes missing at the Conclave and gets found with the Inquisition, she treks across the sea and over mountains to find her. As Dalish Advisor to the Inquisition, she survives two assaults on their main base, an Orlesian Grand Ball which ends with an Elven ambassador in power, and manages to save her clan from certain death in Wycome.

She even braves the Temple of Mythal unarmed as a follower of the Vir Atish'an and drinks from the Vir'abelasan--unlocking her own Eluvian--just to learn anything more about her people.

She ends up romantically involved with Solas, another Elven mage who seems to take endless risks for the pursuit of knowledge, and can't help but be inspired by him all while glimpsing specters of Merrill at every turn. Then he takes her to Crestwood, where he tells her that drinking from the Well of Sorrows was too dangerous and that she doesn't know the forces she's dealing with.

And then it's her getting abandoned for taking risks.***

He leaves not only her, but the whole Inquisition, and she blames herself for losing such a valuable asset both to the Inquisition and her study of Elven history. Never mind her own personal heart break. She marshals all the forces she can to scour the various ancient Elven archeological sites uncovered through the Inquisition's time and boldly makes choices (and discoveries) she couldn't have imagined earlier. The Exalted Council reveals even more bombshells about elven history. She can't help but wish she could share them with Merrill.

Merrill. Merrill who has spent the last ten years alone. Merrill who turned to blood magic just to recover a piece of who her people were. Merrill who has tolerated disrespect and Merrill who Elara abandoned the minute the stakes got too high.

And Elara, who has only just begun to make sacrifices for the pursuit of knowledge.

Having been too scared, and feeling too guilty, to know the truth before now, she asks Varric about what happened to the elf before he leaves for Kirkwall. She's elated to know that Merrill was successful, and hesitantly asks him to invite her to Skyhold.

Elara's not at all surprised when she arrives at Skyhold immediately after being invited. Though she wants to pretend like the past decade of separation never happened, Elara knows she hurt Merrill. The only way she can think of to mend their relationship is what brought them together in the first place, sharing all the Inquisition's knowledge on the topic. This time, Elara supports Merrill, and trusts her to know her limits.

The love doesn't come quick. It crawls slow like clematis. With time, they grow closer and more intertwined, and gradually find that they have wormed their way into each other's lives again. When the Inquisition is ultimately disbanded, they are left with a decision of what to do with all the items and research they've accrued.

Ultimately, they decide to distribute the relics and artifacts they uncovered to various Clans around Thedas, attempting to connect the item's history with existing Clans despite the complaints from the Chantry.

They end up returning to Clan Lavellan. Some members of their former Clan still harbored ill will towards Merrill, but Elara's trust and respect for her and Merrill’s contribution to their history spoke louder than the words of a Keeper long dead.

The Sabrae Clan thanks Clan Lavellan for offering them refuge in a time of crisis, and many decide to break off from the Clan. Merrill becomes the Keeper of Clan Sabrae, with Elara's daughter, Ghilana, as her first. Elara becomes Hahren. It's about always finding your way back home in the end.

--------------------------------

*he didn't actually die, but the Clan doesn't know that

**Marethari died from her own stubbornness and not believing in Merrill, but the Clan doesn't know that

***This isn't what Solas broke up with her for, but Elara doesn't know that.

Elara "I loved you, but you were just a stand-in for the homoerotic relationship i had with my bestie a decade ago" Sabrae of Clan Lavellan

INSPIRED IDEA. ELARA LAVELLAN X MERRILL.

SOLAS BREAKS UP WITH ELARA AND LEAVES SO SHE POURS HERSELF OVER HER STUDIES ONLY TO FIND OUT THAT MERRILL WAS SUCCESSFUL IN FIXING THE ELUVIAN SO SHE GETS IN CONTACT WITH HER AGAIN AND THEY BOND AND HEAL AND FALL IN LOVE. FUCK OFF.

OH MY GOD THEY WERE CLANMATES HOW COULD I BE SO BLIND.

[chaosroid]

You know I really hope DA4 handles lore exposition better.

In the past games, there's always been dialogue options in which we can ask about the lore behind race backgrounds and cultures, even if the character we're playing as CAME from those cultures. The most infamous examples of this was Inquisitor Lavellan (an elf raised by the Dalish) asking "Who's Mythal?" and Warden Audecan/Brosca (a dwarf raised in Orzammar) asking another dwarf what a Paragon is, which made for quite immersion breaking moments.

It'd be much better if the player character, depending on the race you choose obviously, can be the one delivering the lore details for once. It's way better than having other characters talk to us like we've been living under a rock our whole lives or that we're unfamiliar with cultures we came from. Not only would it still achieve the purpose of providing us lore exposition, but it won't feel forced at all. Because if we're playing a Dalish elf character for example, it follows that they're definitely gonna be well-versed about their own people/culture, and giving more race specific dialogue options in certain conversations would make it feel more authentic.

[theharellan]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm. tagged by: stolen from @dansiere tagging: @ghiassan, @deathsreflection, @altuspavus, @windrunnerrs (velanna), @hopewrought, @willbeshot, @seahaloed (iron bull), @asterfed​ (noctis), @ anyone who wants to steal it! also multis feel free to choose a different character

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated (i’m open to roleplaying with non-dragon age characters, and have AUs for other fandoms)

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO. solas is both wildly popular and wildly hated. he’s been more consistently popular than the controversial women in the series, like sera or vivienne, who have only recently begun to get to the point where their tags are less vitriolic (although i’m sure it’s still out there), but there’s still a sizable hatedom that can’t have his name breathed in their vicinity w/o them talking abt how much they hate him. even if you’re currently cosplaying him!

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. again, you have ppl who are super into him and ppl who think he’s ugly. my personal opinion is that i think he’s weirdly pretty, and wish ppl would commit more to his unconventional features rather than try to chisel him into sb more traditionally attractive and that ppl who don’t find him attractive would maybe chill w/ calling him ugly. find him unattractive by all means, but lets embrace the fact that inquisition let their love interests have skin flaws etc and accept that some won’t be our cups of tea.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. its hard to deny at this point tbh.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO / IDK. frustrating as the hate in the tags he has enough fans that i couldnt say he’s underrated w/ a straight face.

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO. he’s the reason the game starts with a bang and not the inevitable dissolution of the conclave b/c the sides are disparate.

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. regardless of solas’ relationship with the inquisitor, there are parallels and contrasts in their stories and he also is the reason they survive inquisition.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO. fen’harel is well-known and revered, if feared, among the dalish, yet at the same time he’s not remembered for a lot besides locking the gods away-- and the context of that decision has also been lost. as solas he’s relatively unknown until inquisition and especially trespasser.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. again, polarising!! he has loyal agents and people are willing to speak well of him despite everything, including his enemies sometimes (depending mostly on the inquisitor). 

How strictly do you follow canon?  — generally i try to have a canon basis for my interpretation, even if i interpret the text differently than the author.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  solas is an immortal who is simultaneously jaded and very much invested in the small moments of life. far from being weary of the day-to-day lives of ordinary people, it is systems and orders he is most tired of. he walks an interesting line that feels far less misanthropic than other immortal characters i’ve experienced, yet still he’s quite cynical. as a character who has fought against religious based tyranny before, but in a completely different era, he is in a unique position where what he sees around him is both horrifyingly familiar and yet completely new. it allows an exploration of the wrongs of thedas’ society from an outsider’s perspective. his motivations are complex and multifaceted, often condemnable and yet also understandable. his character arc in inquisition (if befriended, or regardless in the case of my solas) takes him from a dispassionate, disconnected antagonist to someone deeply invested in the people of thedas, deeply conflicted and actively hoping he will be proven wrong again. i think his story is a testament to human (or elven, or dwarven, or-) connection and how even when we resist we can’t resist creating bonds with the people in our lives. i personally see this bond going beyond the inquisitor hence why i play low-approval solas as conflicted as high-approval, if not when it comes to the inquisitor.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  solas is selfish and motivated solely by revenge, he’s clinging to a past that clearly no longer exists, if you ignore all the people from it who are still alive. he’s totally unaware of all his flaws and never owns up to any mistakes ever. no, i haven’t listened to a single word solas has said in my life why do you ask. he’s also critical of my faves which means he’s #cancelled, there is clearly no validity to what he’s saying. ksjdf no but in all seriousness i think a lot of reasons ppl don’t find solas interesting are just... weird readings of his character that sometimes have no basis in the text of inquisition, but also there are plenty of perfectly valid reasons to not find him interesting. usually those ppl don’t like... talk abt how much they don’t find him interesting constantly tho. they just chill and aren’t invested in this particular villain. for one thing i think the game missed out on opportunities for exploring how someone who may not have even had a body at the beginning of his existence would feel about gender and sexuality, so making him presumably straight and cis was a boring choice. i also think that the dragon age games being very protagonist-centric hurts solas’ character, there’s no real reason why the inquisitor is the only one who can throw his plans into question but making the player the center of the universe means he’s not allowed to change due to the effects of other companions or NPCs. thank god this is rp and i do what i want.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  i have a history degree so when the inquisition companions were being teased, solas describing bias in primary sources from the memories he’s seen got me interested in him. but my first playthrough i didn’t actually take him with me all too often, i think my main party was dorian-blackwall-varric. i liked him, and i think he or dorian were my first friends in skyhold, but my initial interest was in other characters. between his dialogue that appealed to the historian in me tho and how his spirit opinions sort of turned everything i’d felt about spirits in the last two games on its head, i started vibing with him more the farther i went in. like merrill set me up for the “spirits are people” thing and solas hit it out of the park. then temple of mythal happened, and i did bring solas with me there. i found his dialogue fascinating and also suspicious, i’d just finished masked empire like the day before da:i came out so i definitely thought solas was an ancient elf in the same vein as felassan. it was after temple of mythal that i actually decided to make his blog, although like as one idk linchpin to cement my status as solas trash... i was hit BAD by the banter bug on my first playthrough, probably got like a dozen banters total. but then at some point late in the game i took solas to the forbidden oasis and he wouldn’t stop talking to people, and i really loved his banter with the rest of my party at the time.

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  replaying inquisition, new DA content when the bioware gods deign to grant us a lifeline, but the biggest thing is my rp partners. i wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the people i write with, new and old. my activity of late hasn’t been the best, work and the summer heat has really been sapping me of energy, and does even during years when we aren’t going through a pandemic. but it’s the thought of my rp partners and love of solas that keeps me coming back.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO / I SINCERELY HOPE I DO? i have my doubts sometimes, but i think i do ok.

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO / SORT OF? there is no headcanon too small for me.

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO. but not lately * gestures to the low activity * i’ve been in this cycle where i get anxious abt late replies, so prioritise them, then burn myself out and can’t write the fics i want. i’ve had two i’ve been DYING to write tho i just... need to find the space in my brain to let myself.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO. i mean it depends on the day. if i work closing shifts at my store it gets very quiet and boring around 8:30 so i spent the next 90 minutes thinking about character stuff.

Are you confident in your portrayal?  YES / NO / SORT OF? 

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO / SOMETIMES. 

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO / SORTA.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  i’m going to say ‘no’ because like, i don’t ask for criticism. this is a hobby based on my interpretation of a character, if you think i write solas too soft then you’re welcome to think that, but i’m happy with the balance i’ve struck with his internal versus external behaviour and how he changes based upon who he’s speaking to. if you think i’m erasing straight people by making solas pan then ksjdfs. ok.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  yes!!! even if they retread ground already trodden, a) my interpretation may have adjusted since the last time i played or b) a reminder is nice. if it’s new stuff then it’s fun to think about.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  it’d depend on why they disagree. if they just disagree on a subjective opinion about what i took from a certain line, then they’re welcome to their opinion but i don’t necessarily care to hear it. if it is unintentionally hurtful then i would like to know. although rather than a comment i’d rather a non-anonymous message.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  same as the above.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  if they’re vocal about it i typically just unfollow / softblock if i was following in the first place. people can feel how they want about solas, but i’ve found over the years that if people really hate solas ooc it can often bleed into their ic interactions. it’s really weird seeing your character being brought up repeatedly in threads with others specifically to dunk on, for no reason other than i guess solas is living rent free in their heads, so at least we have that in common. but anyway unfollowing is just the best choice to avoid getting kinda pressed if i’m having a bad day.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  roleplay is the wild west of writing, so i think it’d depend on what the error was. coming at me like “you shouldn’t start a sentence with a preposition” would get a laugh, but i don’t edit my replies much if at all and mistakes will 100% happen. pointing out typos is chill so long as you do it politely.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  it depends! i’ve learned that being too easy going actually just means i’m subjecting myself to negative emotions to please people. so i’ve gotten less easy going as the years go by. how does one define “easy going” anyway? does asking that question mean i am objectively not easy going? the longer this thought goes on the more the answer seems to be “probably not,” but i like to think it could be a lot worse.

[elfrootaddict]

HERALD OF ANDRASTE - Chapter 1/4

DESCRIPTION: El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”. SERIES: Halla & Wolf VOLUME: 3

It was only yesterday that Lana woke up to find herself on a large bed, in a warm cabin - instead of lying outside on the cold stone floor of the temple’s ruins.

Confused by her surroundings, Lana abruptly sits up and frightens an unexpected young elven woman who immediately drops her supply box as she falls to her knees, plants her hands on the floor and exclaims, “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.”

Lana’s heart leapt when she saw a fellow elf kneel before her, “Creators lethallan, what are you doing?”

The elf only bowed lower as her forehead almost touched the floor, “You are back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand,” 

Lana looked down at her hand and noticed the magic subduedly illuminating underneath her skin. It felt suppressed and dormant.

“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

“Three days?!” shrieked Lana as she looked up from her hand.

To Lana, it felt as if she had merely fainted for a brief moment. However, instead of a minute or two, it had been days. And instead of waking up at the temple, she was back in Haven, in a cabin, and with an elf claiming to be her humble servant. 

To say Lana was wholly confused would have been the understatement of her lifetime.

Lana stared out the window of the cabin, watching the snow slowly trickle down as she tried to make sense of her rapidly evolving situation. While deep into her thoughts, the elven woman rose to her feet and nervously headed for the door, “...she said, ‘At once’.” and left the cabin in a great hurry.

Desperate for answers, Lana decided to get dressed and find Cassandra. Once changed out of the night dress, someone had put her in, and back into her old, filthy human clothes, Lana opened the door of the cabin and found herself standing in front of a horde of humans. One by one, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared with mouths agape.

As she slowly walked through the crowd of gawkers, she heard many whispering, “The Herald of Andraste! That’s her! That’s the Herald!”

Lana felt she needed to do a few double-takes to make sure she had heard them correctly, and to her astonishment it seemed there was no denying what she had heard. 

The Herald of Andraste? Mythal, ar halani lasa ghilan. I fear I may need it now more than ever before.

After awkwardly walking her way through the crowd and into the Chantry, Lana eventually reached the closed internal door within and immediately overheard people shouting on the other side. One voice she recognized to be Cassandra, and the other belonging to the senior Chantry gentlemen on the bridge days before. 

“Have you gone completely mad?” cried the Chancellor. “She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately and be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”

“I do not believe she is guilty.” Cassandra insisted.

“The elf failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky! For you all know, she intended it this way.”

“I do not believe that.” 

“That is not for you to decide,” demanded the Chancellor. “Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.”

Deciding that was as good of a time as any, Lana opened the door to find Cassandra, the Chancellor and Liliana standing around a large, wooden table. If they were going to be talking about her, she might as well be part of it. She was not going to allow these humans decide her fate. That’s what Lhoris would have done. 

“Chain her!” cried the Chancellor to the two Templars situated on either side of the door. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital, for trial.”

“Disregard that,” Cassandra ordered. “And leave us.”

And, so they did.

Lana stood awkwardly as Cassandra and Lilliana fought with the Chancellor over who had authority to do what. It was a dual, where their weapons of choice were their words. Each sentence cutting their opponent down precisely where they knew it would cause the most pain.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, a loud bang filled the room and Lana noticed Cassandra pointing to a thick, ancient book on the wooden table between them.

“You know what this is, Chancellor. A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act,” Cassandra paused as she looked about the room. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn,” and walked towards the Chancellor threateningly. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.”

Cassandra, having clearly won their verbal-duel, left the Chancellor with no other option but for him to leave the room defeated. Although she had been victorious, Cassandra did not look happy about it. 

Liliana turned to Lana and explained, “This is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos,” and then sighed with a heavy heart. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now... no Chantry support.”

As a Dalish elf, Lana's knowledge was understandably focused on elvhen culture, history, and magic. Up until recently, she never had any reason to know about human history. However, considering the situation, this had needed to be rectified. 

Lana was pleasantly surprised to find that, despite her numerous questions, Cassandra and Liliana seemed more than happy to divulge their understanding of the ancient writ and answer all of Lana’s immediate questions as best they could.  

“The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine, and then it will wait for her direction.” advised Liliana.

“But we cannot wait,” insisted Cassandra. “So many grand clerics died at the Conclave,” looking fiercely towards Lana. “No, we are on our own. Perhaps forever.” and then Cassandra turned her glare from Lana’s eyes to the dormant magical mark on her hand.

With her hand extended, like equals, Cassandra regarded Lana as she asked a heavy question with ease, “Help us fix this Mistress Lavellan, before it’s too late.”

The moment had demanded an immediate response, and with no time given to mull-over the decision or to find some way to escape this madness, Lana looked down at the Seeker’s hand and took a deep breath as she stepped forward, and shook Cassandra’s hand in agreement. 

Cassandra and Liliana then excused themselves so that they could inform the others, which meant leaving Lana alone in the room.

Immediately, Lana regretted her decision.

What. The. Fuck. Have. You. Done?!

When Cassandra asked her to help seal the Breach days before, Lana naively assumed her responsibility would end then and there. 

But now, Lana had agreed to become apart of this human ‘Inquisition’. 

You fool! Why are you like this? You should be heading back home so the Keeper can find a way to remove this damn magic from your hand! Not keep helping these shems!

Lana then looked down at her hand as her heart thrashed around inside her chest, and fear roared in her eyes.

As each moment passed with Lana staring into her palm, she slowly realised the full weight of her responsibility and the true reality of the situation. Her responsibility and role in this mess was far too great to ignore, no matter how hard she willed it away. No matter how nauseous her decision made her feel. No matter how harshly she scolded herself for the decision she made just now. 

This Breach threatens not just these shems, but the whole of Thedas… which includes everyone back home. The Keeper. Tamara. Lhoris. Everyone. 

And with this mark…

This mark is the only thing that is able to seal these tears in the Veil. So what choice do I really have? If I run, what does that say about me? Could I honestly leave knowing I’m the only one capable of sealing these tears? What would the Keeper say? 

Lana closed her eyes, took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and walked out the room closing the door behind her. 

She would tell me to stay. She would tell me to take this as an opportunity to mend the bridge between the shems and the elvhen. Show the shems that the Dalish are capable of helping others beyond our kin. 

As Lana slowly walked through the Chantry, she began admiring the peacefulness within. The Chantry sisters praying quietly in front of the dimly lit candles, the hushed ambiance, and the small trickle of sunlight creeping through the windows above its great doors. 

She would tell me that I can do this. That I have the fire of mamae and the caution of papae. That if I’ve made it this far, then I can do what comes next. Helping these shems is the right thing to do.

Once Lana exited the Chantry, she found herself once again in front of a crowd of on-lookers. However, this time Cassandra, Liliana, Josephine Montilyet and Commander Cullen immediately turned and gestured for her to join them in formation as they officially announced the rebirth of the Inquisition. 

Okay, Keeper. Then that is what I’ll do. For you and for the People. I will help fix this mess. For I am a proud, Dalish, elf. Arlathvhen, Mythal ar lasa ghilan.

Elvish to English Translation: 

“Mythal, ar halani lasa ghilan” = Mythal, help me and guide me

“Arlathvhen, Mythal ar lasa ghilan” = For the love of the People, Mythal guide me.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

READ ON AO3

Halla & Wolf Series

[sealeneee]

holy shit TWO likes. you guys are the real ones thank you for giving me an opportunity to be insane (/genuine)

anyway. the hero of ferelden. there isn't much to add in the context of the game itself, i just follow DAO's plot there. it's the stuff after that is worthy of talking about.

first the basics:

her name is Zielle (pronounced tsee-EH-l', with a soft L sound, like in the french word "elle". why is it spelled like that? because i am insane. moving on), dalish elf origin, dual wielding warrior.

a note about looks -- i use the elghar'nan vallaslin in origins but mythal when recreating her in inquisition. at this moment, mythal is the canon one for her (i just don't like how it looks in dao), but that's subject to change. both of them work fine thematically.

summary of major choices: sided with the elves in brecilian, sided with the mages in kinloch hold, branka destroyed the anvil and ended her life with bhelen ruling in orzammar, did not poison the urn of sacred ashes (subject to change), killed connor in redcliffe, romanced alistair who later became king (unhardened) and he ended the relationship, but still did the dark ritual when asked to. every companion (except for loghain) recruited and alive. if you want to know the minor choices hit me up i just didn't wanna crowd this post any more than necessary.

getting to awakening is where the slight canon divergence starts. for now the only real difference is that she is fuckbuddies with anders. bioware are cowards for not giving the option. every companion alive and well, both amaranthine and the keep protected, architect spared.

during the time anders is still with the wardens, they venture to the deep roads a few times. on one of such expeditions zielle gets hit in the face by a particularly nasty genlock, which results in her losing one eye and having a good half of her face scarred, despite the medical assistance from anders. this does not affect the plot but i wanted to give you a reference to when her looks change.

this is approximately how she looks at the time of DAI. but more severe scarring + an eyepatch on her right eye.

aaaand we finally made it to the interesting stuff! this is, obviously, not very canon compliant with inquisition and will probably completely shatter when DAD rolls out.

so what happens to mahariel during the DA2 and inquisition timeline?

due to some bad luck, she starts to feel the calling pretty early. but she doesn't die when she goes to the deep roads once again. because of her connection with the architect, something goes wrong. she does get corrupted -- white eyes, pale skin with visible black veins, the usual effect of the taint -- but does not become a darkspawn. she's somewhere in between, somewhat similar to an awakened one, but also completely different. she is still aware of who she is (or was) and what happened, but she follows the will of the taint. she stays in the roads, working with the architect, and later meets the personification of the blight. they enter some sort of relationship -- not romantic, not platonic, i'm not really sure how to describe it. at first it's semi-voluntary, but later zielle becomes his thrall, completely losing her own consciousness, giving in to the taint completely. the blight is somewhat of a lover to her, somewhat of a father, somewhat of herself, replacing her mind with unquestionable obedience. she attacks random places in thedas, wreaking havoc, killing people and burning buildings. nobody can say for sure who the short figure in a warden cloak is, and rumors of all kinds spread across the land. some say it's just a straggle darkspawn that stole a piece of uniform, some believe it's a traitor warden trying to make the darkspawn threat look bigger than it is, and some even claim it's the late warden-commander of amaranthine, a short blond elf that killed the archdemon a decade ago.

now you may be asking, "sealene, what the fuck?". well, Blight is @herba-serpylli 's OC, and when learning about said OC i went slightly insane and came up with this storyline. check out Ense's art btw, it's very cool!!

anyway this post was caused by me randomly thinking "man, people make such cool stories for some of their ocs and mine are pretty bor-- hold on zielle exists". thank you for reading my ramblings, apologies to ense for the tag

one like and i tell the absolutely bonkers story of my HoF

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

- Love Languages -

Ship: Dorian Pavus × Inquisitior Lavellan.

Mentioned Cullen x Companion Lavellan belonging to @ruinvevo.

Warnings: None

"Ellana seeks advice involving the Commander's birthday, and is surprised to find it in form of Dorian's sentimentality."

⚔⚔⚔

It was well past noon and the Inquisitior had not once gotten out of bed. Sunlight filtered in from the doors of the balcony, as shades of green and gold splashed across the floor due to the stain glass in the windows.

A winter chill was also present, a bit of cold air due to the mountains that the Inquisition called home.

All and all, the day had been dull and uneventful. This was something that Dorian wouldn't complain about, however, as they hadn't taken a moment to properly rest since returning from the Temple of Mythal.

The elf was sprawled out across the bed, back up, as he used the mage's chest as a pillow. Dorian didn't have the heart to move him and instead resigned to holding a book within one hand, while the other glided across the bare skin of the Inquisitor's back. Tracing out maps from freckle to freckle and scar to scar with nimble fingers.

He kept his touch warm with a bit of magic in order to weave the heat into his lover's stiff muscles; a natural relaxant.

Mahvir was a mess of long hair and exhaustion but he had barely stirred all morning. This was something rare, Dorian would note, but it was bound to happen eventually. You could only go so long before your body gives up on you- he didn't think the the old warrior would have been able to stay awake even if he'd wanted too.

Only Josephine had came to seek him out but upon being told of his current state, practically comatose where he lay, she had dismissed his need for duty until further notice. Something she had been promptly thanked for by his Tevinter paramour, before she departed. Not another soul had dared to disturb them since.

Until now.

A sharp knocking resonated from the base of the staircase and it shocked Dorian away from his thoughts. His grey eyes, cool as ice, rose from his book and turned instead to the man nestled within the crook of his arm. He didn't want to wake Mahvir, but he couldn't ignore whoever had come to see the Inquisitior.

He coughed to clear his throat, it was hoarse from having not spoken in hours. "Friend or foe?"

"Family!" A voice called back and he relaxes, closing his book and setting it aside before continuing to glide his other hand around the grooves of Mahvir's shoulder blades. The elf makes a small noise in his sleep, it sounds almost like a purr, and Dorian is fighting a fond smile as he watches Ellana turn the corner at the top of the stairs.

"He's still asleep?" The woman asks, her voice a thoughtful whisper.

Dorian inclines to the couch with a tilt of his head, waiting for her to take a seat before responding, "He wasn't feeling well last night and you know how he is. He won't listen to anyone, not even his own body." An annoyed sigh escapes him, "this is what he gets."

Ellana arches an eyebrow at him. "You didn't spell him?"

He lays his free hand upon his collarbone, unable to reach his heart in an otherwise dramatic display of mock hurt. "Dearest Ellana, such accusations wound me- but no, he's just gone and gotten himself tuckered out."

"Ah." The light dulls in her violet eyes for a moment. "I was hoping to ask him for advice."

"Perhaps I can help?" Dorian offers. The maker knew that he spent an unsavory amount of time with Mahvir, surely some of his sage like wisdom had rubbed off.

Ellana hesitates, undoubtedly because she had come to speak with her father figure and not his boyfriend, who she knew to be a lot more spontaneous.

"It's nothing serious." She finally says, biting her bottom lip in concentrating thought. "Cullen's birthday is coming up and he is refusing to talk about it."

"The Commander, stubborn? I never would have guessed."

"I want to get him something anyway, something that will mean a lot even in the years to come but he isn't a materialistic person."

Dorian considers this for a moment, his touch now linging at the curve of Mahvir's hip, tracing along the sharp bone- his lover was scrawnier by the day- he thinks, but then he remembers a conversation he's had with Josephine about the upcoming birthday.

"Believe it or not, you're not the only one struggling, our darling Ambassador has tried all sorts of ideas but finally settled on some tasteless Fereldan desert. Leliana has gotten him a gold chess set and I have a copy of his favorite book from childhood tucked away in here somewhere. I believe Mahvir has sought out something to alleviate his headaches and is sending a care package to his sister and her children. "

The woman on the couch seems to take this in for a moment, disappointment dancing across her expression. "You all seem to know exactly what he wants."

"Not at all but we do know things that will make his day easier."

Ellana groans and leans her head against the back of the couch. "You've all taken the best ideas." She complains, before tipping her head to the side to meet the mage's gaze. "What about you and Mahvir? What kind of gifts do you two give?"

Dorian considers this silently for a moment. "Without getting unsavory; my gifts usually include giving him refuge. He is an anxious person by nature and lives with a lot of physical pain as well. I order potions for him, make sure he has a bath drawn each night and I force him to see a healer at least once a month."

"Those seem more like chores than gifts."

"One would think so, but the greatest gift I could give him right now is being there to help him up when he falls. Like Cullen, he isn't materialistic. Sometimes actions speak louder than words."

Ellana furrows a brow, "So should I do something for Cullen? A gesture for how much I love him?"

"But with me," Dorian continues, "I find notes written in the margins of my books, or roses left by my desk in the library. My favorite brand of wine is always stocked in the cellar and I always have someone who listens to me just for the sake of listening."

"So actual gifts?" The poor girl seemed more at a loss than she was when she first arrived.

The mage can't help but chuckle. He was sure that he and Ellana shared the same amount of experience when it came to relationships, nothing serious prior to who they were currently with, and a few months ago he would have been just as put off as she. "The moral of this is, it all depends on the bond you two share. You are the only one who knows how Cullen gives his love and how you give yours. It's all very precious, if you think about it."

"He gave me his good luck charm." She slowly says after a moment as if the beginning of an idea was finally forming within her mind. "He used to keep it with him everywhere he went but then he chose to give it to me."

"The Dalish make each other tokens, do they not? You signify engagements with betrothal necklaces rather than rings?"

"Yes!" She sits up in excitement, eyes wide and ears perked. "I can make him something similar, so he can have a charm from me."

"A perfect choice." Dorian congratulates, offering the elf a smile as she springs off the piece of furniture and moves back to her feet.

"Thank you Dorian." She says, "You're really good at this."

"What is this?"

"Being a friend."

The man in bed, curled up among another body, blankets, and books, is at a loss for words. Straightforward sentiment had never been his strong suit. "Yes, well, don't go telling the others." He says. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"I wouldn't dream of it." She responds, with plenty of her own mirth.

"Go on would you, why wait around here all day when you have a Commander to charm?"

Ellana took his dismissal as her cue to leave, she'd hit one of his nerves, but neither of them seemed to actually mind it.

Her bit of farewell was a small wave, before she turns to the stairs and is gone a moment later.

"She's right you know." A gruff voice breaks through the renewed silence and Dorian turns his gaze away from the staircase to the elf at his side.

Dorian sushes his lover softly, turning on his side just enough to run his other hand through the length of his chestnut hair. "Go back to sleep, Amatus."

"You go back to sleep." The inquisitior retorts, almost grumpily, but a moment later his breathing had slowed once again.

Dorian sighs fondly, bends his head to leave a kiss on the other man's temple, and then returns to his book.

[brialavellan]

It has been 20 years since Inquisitor ‘Manehn Lavellan defeated Corypheus, and 18 years since the Exalted Council. Solas is furthering his plans and so far, all efforts to stop him seem to be in vain….until the Well of Sorrows begins to speak to ‘Manehn once more. Led by ancient magics and beset by enemies from Ferelden and Orlais to Antiva and Tevinter, ‘Manehn must gather allies old and new in a race against time to defeat Solas - at any cost.

(NOW ON AO3)

Chapter 1 ||  Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7

CH 8: Dalish Pariah

Since ‘Manehn and Davhalla had stepped into the eluvian on Sundermount, they had wandered aimlessly for what had seemed like eternity, though no time had actually passed. 

Time flows differently in the Fade. Time in the permanent world is linear, static, unchanging. The Fade is fluid, always changing. There is no past or future, there is here and not. It is a concept only Dreamer mages like Davhalla, Mirwen and Solas could truly grasp. The link to the Fade was too strong to ignore it, and if Dreamers like them did not learn to know the Fade as intimately as they knew themselves, they would have long been consumed, stolen by a distorted spirit itching for a taste of the static world. 

“We’re lost,” Davhalla finally said, her fingers thrumming against her sides as a sign of her twitching nerves.

“Davhalla -”

“Well, what would you call wandering about these Fade-like spaces without direction or without an end in sight?” Davhalla said. “It was foolish. I should not have done something so reckless,” she said, furrowing her brow and sweeping her locs from her broad face. 

“Like leaving your position as Keeper?” ‘Manehn unhelpfully added. 

“I would not be so flippant to speak of abandonment,” Davhalla said, in a defensive tone. “Many in our clan believe you abandoned us long ago…”

“I have done no such thing!” ‘Manehn snapped, stopping in her tracks, her hand balled into a tight fist that drained the color from her fingers. “Everything I have tried to do was for my people! I do not need to hear -”

“What your people think?” Davhalla said, “How can you win the war if you have not won your peoples’ hearts? Why do you think so many of our people rushed to Fen’harel’s side? His ambitions seem greater and his promises do not seem so empty.”

Davhalla softened her tone and gently clasped ‘Manehn’s shoulder. “I apologize. I did not mean to twist that against you,” she said, sorrowful, “I am stating what is whispered around the campfires and at the gatherings of clans. I know I did not, and neither did you - no matter how others perceive it.”

“I know quite well what people think,” ‘Manehn sighed as anger and pain and regret and bitterness roiled within her. She normally would have been livid with Davhalla. She was with anyone who dared question her dedication, cutting them down with biting remarks while forcefully recounting everything she had done not just for the elves, but for all of Thedas. But the kernels of truth within Davhalla’s words hurt more and, even worse, they frightened her. Years had passed. Decades. Solas had infinite patience and infinite time. ‘Manehn was wearing thin on both. She could no longer rely on past triumphs to silence her present critics.

A sad but tense silence passed between them as ‘Manehn and Davhalla surveyed their surroundings. The air hummed with magic like a singer with a tune on her lips, beckoning them forward down paths of dazzling light and color even though they still had no idea where they had come from or where they were headed. Even now, both of them could not help but marvel at the sight, which felt homey and inviting and filled with as much warmth as sorrow, for both of their hearts panged as they realized this was yet another marvel the elves had lost. 

An interruption of shouting and the clink of armor and blades drew them back to reality. Five elves rushed towards them, blades and teeth bared. ‘Manehn and Davhalla had barely readied their weapons when they both felt a sudden searing heat near them. 

“Stay next to me!” Davhalla yelled as she threw up a barrier. A wall of flame rushed towards them, immolating the elves, turning their screams of bloodthirsty rage into screams of unbearable pain. As the last ones fell, bodies ash-blackened, a figure strided towards them, carefully maneuvering around the bodies. 

She was tall and pale, with angular features, a strong square jaw and a fiendish gleam in her piercing yellow eyes. Long jet back hair cascaded behind a crown of dragon’s horns that gave her a menacing aura. She pointed her staff, adorned with a ram’s head, at both of them.

“You are not lost,” She said in a cool tone. “You are just refusing to be guided.”

‘Manehn put her hand on the hilt of her dagger and Davhalla readied her staff.

“Doesn’t sound like much of a difference,” Davhalla said.

“And I wouldn’t exactly take guidance from a complete stranger,” ‘Manehn added.

Davhalla leaned into ‘Manehn and whispered. “Not a stranger. I know what she is. She is a Witch of the Wilds. I would not trust her.” 

“My name is Yavana, young ones, and I expected you,” she said in a smoky voice, with the briefest glance at ‘Manehn’s grip on her dagger, which had grown tighter. “The Well of Sorrows led me to you as you were led to me, to play our part.” 

Davhalla was raised on tales of Flemeth’s daughters, as all elves were. Though she knew it to be a childish impulse, she could not help but fear her, if only because she could sense the immense power that Yavana wielded. 

“And what is your part, exactly?” ‘Manehn asked with a snarl, pointing her dagger at Yavana's chest.

“The same as yours," Yavana said nonchalantly, as if explaining the simplest concept to the most stubborn child. "To restore what was before. To protect what fools would destroy. To avenge what was lost.” 

“I am merely here to aid you, not fight you.” Yavana added, “I have a purpose, as do you. Mythal compels you to fulfill your part, as I fulfill mine. And should you try to end me as others before me….” she flashed a wicked grin, “know you will not succeed. Kings and peasants alike have tried.”

“I don’t know,” ‘Manehn retorted, “Corypheus thought the same of me.” Unlike Davhalla, her fear merely did little more than feed her anger at this interloper.

“A grasping pretender is nothing compared to whom you face now.” Yavana’s eyes narrowed. “You have been given a great gift, to be the Vessel of Mythal, to be her beacon, her champion. Her will works through you.”

She came closer to ‘Manehn and surveyed her, slightly bemused at this brash elf. ‘Manehn glared back at her, her dagger still pointed at Yavana.

“You have not embraced what you were given. Hopefully you will learn after what comes next.”

“And what does come next, witch?” Davhalla said with a condescending sneer.

‘Manehn hesitated for a while, her temper cooling as she evaluated the situation they were in. They were lost. This strange woman was offering...something. And she had just killed a bunch of elves who were ready to antagonize them. She was not a friend, but she was being friendly enough. Still suspicious yet compelled, ‘Manehn sheathed her dagger and turned to Davhalla.

Yavana stared at both of them with an almost bored expression. 

“We might as well follow her, unless you want to keep wandering around ‘refusing to be guided’,” she whispered to Davhalla with air quotes and a sarcastic tone. Davhalla lowered her staff and merely sighed, saying “I just hope this doesn’t end with our deaths.”

"You are smarter than you look," Yavana said as she turned her back and began to walk away from them towards a crossroads. She stopped after some distance and called to them. "Do you wish to follow, or would you prefer to stay here forever?"

"You don't want to miss your meeting, after all,"  she added, as she bade them to follow. 

'Manehn and Davhalla studied the strange woman who strolled along the paths in front of them with inhuman ease. All humans, when they entered these in-between spaces, found the footsteps grew leadan and legs weary, struggling to keep up with elven companions. Both were equally curious as to how she even managed to not merely keep up, but outpace them.

Yavana would occasionally glance back with an almost amused expression and 'Manehn's eyes would narrow every time she looked back. If she had learned anything at all from Morrigan, whom she strongly resembled, it was that any alliance, boon, or favor from someone like her was a demon's bargain. 

She would not find out until much later how high the price was that she had chosen to pay.

In between her speculations and suspicions of Yavana's intentions, ‘Manehn’s thoughts returned to those she had left behind, thoughts that she had reserved only in her times of greatest distress, the worries that came to her when she feared that her current moments were her final ones. Thoughts of her mother, sister and clan, now a wisp of memory she could almost never recapture. Thoughts of her friends and her daughter, those she loved most, who kept her from succumbing to the darkest corners of the darkest thoughts that came to her in her loneliest moments. She wasn't sure this was her last moment alive, but she also wasn't sure she wasn't making a grave mistake.

Davhalla's thoughts were focused elsewhere, on the strange witch who guided them. She noticed Yavana sauntered forward with an easy confidence but Davhalla sensed a secret within her. Whatever Yavana spoke of, she spoke of not as an agent freely acting within their will, but as a servant humbly obeying the wishes of a great master. 'Manehn had revealed Flemeth's true nature, and the nature of her daughters, these Witches of the Wilds, to her before. If Flemeth was Mythal, then why did she work through human daughters? Davhalla's fear grew with every step forward. This was not the will of Mythal the gentle Mother. What Yavana spoke of was a great vengeance that would shake their foundations. Either way, she thought, Thedas would quake under the power of a Creator. She just couldn't decide if it was Fen'harel's remaking or Mythal's reckoning she should fear more.

The twisting paths Yavana had guided them along stopped at a deactivated, darkened eluvian. With a wave of her hand and a mumble under her breath, the eluvian sprang to life, the silver sheen of the glass surface warping and whirling. Davhalla and 'Manehn almost audibly gasped and shared a weak laughter between them. She had actually guided them out. This wasn't a trap. Yet.

“Go ahead and meet your elf,” Yavana said as she began to walk away. “I will be waiting.”

“Great,” ‘Manehn said sarcastically, meeting her eyes with one last glare as she and Davhalla stepped into the eluvian.

————————

In the Brecilian Forest, as sunlight peeked through the canopy of trees that covered an ancient Tevinter ruin, a small elf with short black hair and large forlorn green eyes dressed in a First’s robes sat in front of an eluvian, muttering to herself with while leafing through a large brown leather book. 

The eluvian was a miraculous find, she mused, since the only other one she had found in this forest was nothing but a shattered frame sitting in her hovel in Kirkwall’s alienage. She would never get rid of it. It still had a use, though shattered beyond repair. It was a memorial to Tamlen and Naira. A reminder of mistakes that she, and those she loved, had made. And most importantly, it was motivation to finish what she had started. 

When she heard the news that Fen’harel had risen, had revealed himself, and was now walking the mortal world with a promise to remake the world to his whims, she felt not just fear and anger but vindication. She had doubted herself for so long. But protecting the people, all of her people, from the Dread Wolf was what she had been born and groomed to do. Even if she failed, even if she perished, she thought, she would try to do something, no matter how small. 

She was too lost in thought, and in her notes, to notice the small hum that began to emanate from the eluvian that stood behind her. Not until the hum grew louder and she felt the blast of magic behind her as two figures tumbled out behind her.

She tossed the book aside, leapt to her feet and grabbed her staff from the ground, pointing it at the two interlopers.

“Tell me who you are,” she said, trying her best to sound intimidating, “how did you - !”, 

She lowered her staff and she surveyed their faces, trying and failing to hide her shock. Both of them were marked with vallaslin, the marks of Elgar’nan and June. They were her People. More importantly, she knew them enough to know they were friends. 

Well, friend might be a strong word for the Inquisitor, she thought. Maybe she should say ‘ally’ or ‘enemy of Fen’harel’ instead. 

“Keeper Davhalla! And the Inquisitor?!” she said, helping them both to their feet, “Anetha ara, Keeper, I thought you were still with your clan.”

“I was,” Davhalla said. “But this fight needs me more than the clan does. And it needs you too, Merrill. Why did you leave Kirkwall so suddenly?”

“I’ve had too much to do here!” Merrill protested, “I’ve gotten myself in far too much trouble chasing history before but -” 

Merrill paused and took a deep breath. 

“But when I found out about the eluvians and Fen’harel, I had to come back to do something, of course,” she said, twisting her fingers, “Protecting the People from the Dread Wolf is a Keeper’s place. You know that, of course and well, I’m not a Keeper - I would have been terrible at it - but you understand. But I know it wouldn’t hurt for me to try again. At least, I don’t think so. But maybe I could -” 

Before either of them could interrupt her, Merrill’s voice trailed off as she walked past them towards the eluvian. She placed her hand against the mirror and closed her eyes, sensing the magic that still lingered.

‘Manehn and Davhalla’s eyes darted towards the collapsed stone walls when they heard a rustle in the vegetation. Both readied their weapons...and relaxed them while a deer bounded across, turned and walked away.

‘Manehn and Davhalla looked at each other with amusement, and Merrill ignored them both, until ‘Manehn heard the whistle of arrows.

“Barrier!” she screamed at Davhalla as she backed towards the eluvian. Davhalla readied her staff and erected a barrier seconds before the volley of arrows came down, bouncing off the erected wall of force magic.

Four elves jumped from the walls and barreled towards them, while another six elves perched on a collapsed pillar high above them readied another volley.

“Dread Wolf take you all!” they heard Merrill shout behind them as a stonefist flew between them and crashed into the pillar, knocking several of the elves to the ground. ‘Manehn unsheathed both her blades and lunged forward as the elves drew near the barrier, whirling fast as she cut into two of them. She turned and barely dodged a heavy hammer’s blow. 

“They seem awfully cross!” Merrill yelled at both of them.

“Ya think?!” ‘Manehn yelled back as she lunged forward to parry another blow. Davhalla held steady but muttered a few words. ‘Manehn felt a new, cleansing power surge within her and felt her feet lighten and her blows land faster. 

Merrill hurriedly drew a dagger and cut her arm. The small streams of blood began to levitate and surround her within a sinister aura. The rest of the archers and the fighters dropped their weapons and shrieked as their blood began to boil and their limbs twisted under Merrill’s control. They turned bright red and crumpled to the ground, gruesomely bloated and limbs twisted.

Davhalla lowered her barrier and shot Merrill a withering glare. Merrill pretended not to notice, calmly sheathing her blade and avoiding Davhalla’s gaze. ‘Manehn looked at macabre display of men, unsettled yet unwilling to contend against magic that, at this moment at least, had saved their skins. 

“I don’t know why I keep getting attacked,” Merrill said, “I don’t think I’ve done much of anything, really. I’ve only helped the elves in the Alienage and then all of a sudden, I’ve got intruders trying to set me on fire and -”

“He thinks you’re a threat and that’s enough for him.” ‘Manehn said, “You must know enough to be dangerous.”

“Well, I guess I do know things. About the eluvians, I mean. I spent 7 years working on restoring one. You don’t learn how to do that without picking up a thing or two,” she said, scratching her head. “I felt the power when it opened, and I can feel the power behind it even with it closed, just like the eluvian I worked on. I’m still stuck on how you open it.”

“A witch said some magic words and it opened. These eluvians need passphrases,” ‘Manehn said as she sheathed her daggers .

“An incantation...” Merrill said, eyes widening. “Just a simple spell! Really, was that all I needed this whole time? Elgar’nan, but how did I not figure that out before! I guess the spirit could have told me but....” her voice trailed off as a profound sadness began to grip her but she shook her head and snapped back to attention. “...if that’s true, then for someone without the gift to open it, you would need an artifact. Some sort of a - a reservoir of magic like -”

“Like a keystone...” ‘Manehn said, pausing briefly as she realized the implications. “That’s how Briala could use the eluvians in the first place!” 

Her voice grew excitedly, “And that means mages can unlock the networks independently, like Solas! Couldn’t we simply do that? Have a mage find the center of the network and just...change the code?”

“Not so simple,” Davhalla stopped her. “Remember? It’s a very specific passphrase. And there isn’t just one that unlocks all the eluvians. You would need to acquire a dizzying array of incantations. You only knew the first one because of luck.” 

Merrill folded her arms. “If Briala did it the first time but if Solas can override it, then it’s pointless to try changing it back because he would just override it again. You need very powerful magic to tap into that sort of power. But, just how much would you need? Oh! Let me try to find out...” 

She rushed past them to grab her book. ‘Manehn and Davhalla, who was still fuming, watched her pace around the eluvian for some time, muttering about misplacing things in between frustrated sighs and self-directed admonishments. 

“What are you looking for?” ‘Manehn finally asked.

“This!” Merrill finally said triumphantly, holding up a quill and small earthen jar of ink. “Thank the Creators it didn’t spill over during all that fighting. Just imagine what a mess that would make on such beautiful tiles.” 

She sat down near the eluvian,on the stone tile, crossed her legs, and rummaged through the papers within the book. Most pages were barely held in their binding, and some pages were completely loose. She dipped the quill in her ink and began scribbling some calculations and diagrams on an empty sheet, staining her hands and leaving streaks of pooled ink on the page while she muttered to herself some more.

“Well, I don’t have paper on hand to check my math but I know you’d need at least enough lyrium to kill every mage within a 5 mile radius,” Davhalla quipped between gritted teeth. 

“You don’t need piles of lyrium at all, actually,” Merrill said without looking up, “there’s more power in blood magic, but... ” she paused sheepishly, “you could bleed yourself dry. That is, if I’m not messing up my calculations, of course. Let me see, did I use the right formula here?”

“Absolutely not!” Davhalla erupted with such fury that her almost-onyx skin turned hot. “Every blood mage eventually perverts magic to suit their whims!” She whirled around to face ‘Manehn, pleading. “You can’t possibly -.”

“Blood magic is just magic, like any other magic,” Merrill calmly replied with the slightest glare, repeating a tired line she had stated countless times to combat a tired misconception. “Everyone who uses it doesn’t turn into a demon, you know.” 

“I can’t even believe you, of all elvhen, would succumb to such a thing!” Davhalla said, inching closer to her.

“I didn’t ‘succumb’”, Merrill snapped. “I’m not a child. I chose this path.”

“Enough!” ‘Manehn stood between the both of them with her arm outstretched towards Davhalla, “Right now, I don’t care right now about the morality of it. Let’s find out what we need to do to take back the network and worry about it later. We might be able to find a different way.”

Davhalla pressed her lips together in stony silence. 

‘Manehn turned back to Merrill.

“Will you help us?”

“Well,” Merrill paused, tapping her index finger to her chin, “I’ve been doing this alone for so long, I never even thought to ask for help. Well, not from anyone who would know anything about it. Though I guess Fen’harel knew. And the Qunari. And Briala. Actually - ”

Her lips curled into a small smile as she closed her book and rose from the floor. 

“I think I can, actually. I don’t know how helpful my assistance would be. But, of course, any assistance at all would be appreciated, right?”

“Yes, it would.” ‘Manehn said while shooting a quick glance at a still smouldering Davhalla, “Thank you.”

“But I don’t think I can join you directly. I just...” Merill paused for a moment, her voice lowered to a whisper, “Did you like her, when you met her? Hawke, I mean?”

“I did.”

“I did too. She had that effect on people.” Merrill said, her vivid green eyes beginning to glisten as she reminisced. 

“She was always joking, always wanted to laugh,” she said as a wistful smile spread across her face. “She always wanted to make sure you were laughing too. She really cared. She might have been wrong about the eluvian in the end, but it wasn’t out of maliciousness. She cared about me. About everyone. How they were treated. How she was treating them. She has...she had a good heart.”

She paused for a moment, then looked directly into ‘Manehn’s eyes. ”I hope you don’t forget her.”

“I haven’t,” ‘Manehn said, biting her lip, looking away from Merrill’s intense, almost accusing gaze. “I can’t bring her back, but I can kill the man who was responsible for all of it.”

Merrill paused as she pondered her words, her brow wrinkled and a small frown on her face.

“I’ll accept that,” she finally said, still clutching her book. “I can’t join you, and I’ve been away from my People in Kirkwall too long now. I have to check on them. And help them. But I can share everything I know and everything I’ve found.” 

She thrust her book into Davhalla’s hands.

“Dareth shiral for now,” Merrill said with a nod as she left the ruins. “You’ll hear from me again, of course, I’ll find out as much as I can. I have notes - more notes - I can work on and, well, let me stop blathering on.”

“But I do have one other thing to ask of you, Inquistor,” she turned back to look at ‘Manehn, a cold anger in her voice.

“Send Fen’harel to the Void where he belongs.”

‘Manehn nodded as Merrill disappeared out of sight.

 “I will.”

[ranawaytothedas]

Codex Drabble: The Twins Meet Solas for the first time - 

The snowflakes stung Mathras’s face as he grabbed Tamaris’s hand. She was out of breath from fighting back the demons that had fallen from the breach. He knew she was trying her best, his sister was never one for fighting. “You are doing very well.” He encouraged softly as he followed the Seeker who had taken them captive. 

The sounds of the distant fighting grew louder with each step. Mathras let go of his sister’s hands as he drew his daggers. “Stay here…” He cautioned. Tamaris nodded as Mathras and the Seeker joined the attack.

The cold air stung against Tamaris’s exposed hands as they clutched the staff she had picked up only a short time before. Her eyes focused on the battle playing out before her. It was over quickly. An elven man, who appeared to also be mage came striding over to Tamaris. “Now is not the time to sit by ideally like a child when you are the only one who can do anything.” He chided as he snatched her left hand that bore the mark and raised it towards the small breach in the Veil. “Now close it!” 

“How?” Tamaris asked unsure of what to do. “I am a healer, not some battlemage.” She cried. 

The elf glared at her. “The same as healing a wound…” He pointed out his tone softened when he saw how nervous the woman was. 

Tamaris closed her eyes and focused on healing the rift. Her hand began to tingle, then it was like it was aflame. Her hand was pulled back by the stranger and when her eyes opened. The rift had been sealed. “How? How did I do that?” 

The man let out an amused chuckle. “You are a healer, are you not?” 

Tamaris smiled, her cheeks flushing pink as she gave a short nod. The moment was spoiled when Mathras came running up behind her. “Mythal’s Mercy, Tamaris… you… you….” He stammered still in shock over seeing the feat that his sister had just committed. He cupped her face with both hands looking her over. “I can’t believe you did that! Oh maybe Mamae was right and you are really Falon’din reborn!” He laughed and Tamaris looked horrified at her brother’s joke. 

“That is not a jest to make, Mathras.” Tamaris scowled as she pushed her brother’s hands off her face. “Please just stop, there is some logical…” 

“Magical..” Mathras quickly corrected cutting his sister off.

“In fact there it is likely a little of both…” The elf who had helped Tamaris seal the rift noted. “I am Solas.” 

“Like your sister, he is an apostate. He helped stabilize the mark and save her life.” The Seeker noted to Mathras who looked rather confused.

Tamaris beat her brother to the question they both had. “But you are not Dalish, you do not have the Vallalsin, so are you one of the Elves that live among the shelmen?” Tamaris asked curiously as she had never seen another elf that was not Dalish. “Did you escape from… Mathras what are the mage prisons Babae always told me about called?” 

A dwarf off to the side laughed. “Mage Prisons, Anders would have liked you..” He muttered to himself. “They are called The Circle, sweetheart..” 

Tamaris glanced over at the dwarf and smiled brightly. She had never seen another of his kind before. “Oh, thank you! You are a dwarf? My Babae told me that you all live in the earth and you don’t dream… that must be so horrible…” 

“Focus, Tamaris..” Mathras said putting his hands on her shoulders. “Forgive my sister, she is what we call i've'an'virelan, so she has spent most of her life just with our clan, so this has been a journey of many firsts… she gets a little excited..” The Dwarf smiled at the smaller of the two siblings recalling his own experience dealing with a somewhat sheltered Dalish woman. 

Solas’s interest was instantly piqued. “You are a Dreamer?” He asked Tamaris who nodded unsure of how she should have answered. For most of her life, she had been told to keep that fact to herself. Her fears diminished when Solas spoke.  “I am as well..” He added with a soft smile. “It has been many years since I have met another outside the fade.” 

Tamaris’s eyes grew wide, she had never met another elf with the same gifts she possessed. “I have so many questions!” Tamaris exclaimed excitedly. 

Mathras let out a low sigh, “Two fade-walkers… this bodes so well because what we need are more powerful Mages..” knowing no matter how it played out, two dreamers was bound to invite trouble.