#Cian Lavellan

[feyflorist]

Former Inquisitor Cian Lavellan ⚡️

[andrastesflamingknickers]

Reminisence

Obligatory AO3 Link

The tent grew darker as the candles burned out, one by one, their small and flickering flames dying in a puddle of melted wax. The night was quiet, except for the rush of winter wind and the cawing of ravens not yet asleep. Leliana set her quill down and pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes as if it would cure the ache from reading and writing an endless number of reports.

It did nothing to alleviate the pain.

She took a deep breath and lifted the quill again, returning to her report only to find that the inked words on the parchment had become a blurred, unreadable mess to her swirling vision.

There was still much work to do—there would always be work for her to do—but even she knew there was nothing she could do in her current state. Trying and forcing herself to keep going now would only bring mistakes, and even the smallest of errors could have catastrophic consequences for the Inquisition, as new, small, and fragile as it currently was. She could allow herself a few moments of rest, a few minutes to close her eyes and give them a break before she returned to her work.

She set the quill back down and, with a groan, rose from her seat and felt her spine and neck pop and crack as she stretched.

Her ravens cooed and cawed as Leliana pulled back the flap of her tent to step out. With another stretch, another wince, she raised her head to look above. The cloudless sky above Haven glittered with countless stars, their beauty marred by the pulsating, green hole torn into the heavens. It was a disheartening sight, but one that also fueled her desire to work, to do everything she could to make sure that the Inquisition succeeded—that the Herald succeeded.

There were very few still awake at the late hour. Most only being guards patrolling the village and stragglers in the tavern. However, she could hear the faint sound of metal on metal further out, a sign that at least a few soldiers were training, even now, too restless and anxious to sleep and thus throwing that nervous energy into something productive. It was hard to say if Cullen would be proud of it or if he would chastise them for it.

She took another deep breath, feeling the frigid air stinging her throat as it filled her lungs, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

Haven. To say that Leliana had mixed feelings about the village was an understatement. She was grateful that they had found refuge here, that the Inquisition had a place to call home for the time being, but she could still remember the first time she had been to this little hamlet.

They had been fighting the end of the world, then, too.

“It is so unnecessarily cold. Why does it need to be so bloody cold?” Elio had complained, sneezing loudly as he pulled his fur cloak tighter around his narrow shoulder. It was old, smelled, likely had fleas, and was bought from a very shady merchant, but considering their group was—to put it kindly—broke, no one dared complain at what little warmth they could get from the harsh winter wind and deep snow. “Let’s just get Genitivi, get the ashes, and get someplace warmer.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him; I’ve so many questions I want to ask about his work,” Leliana breathed as she fiddled with the strap to her quiver. So excited had she been to meet someone as renowned as Brother Genitivi.

Their group hadn’t even entered the village before they were stopped by a man at the entrance, hostile and reluctant to allow them in, outsiders not being welcomed. When they mentioned a Chantry brother, he had stiffed and scoffed, denying ever seeing one in their little hamlet. A lie that Leliana had recognized immediately.

The village had been dead. Not a soul to be seen, all supposedly at the Chantry further in, listening to a sermon from a Father Eirik.

“A Father and not a Mother, huh?” Elio murmured as they slowly made their way to the building, looking for anyone and seeing no one. “If it weren’t for this ‘Disciples of Andraste’ talk, I’d suspect the Imperial Chantry is taking root here. Though I still have a bad feeling about this, stay on your guard.”

When they had reached the Chantry doors, there was still no one. But they could hear the screaming and cries from within clearly. It wasn’t the screams of pain or fear but of jubilation and worship. Fervent, passionate, and unsettling.

Elio took point, standing before them as if to be their shield as he pushed the doors open.

The Chantry was empty. It didn’t look the same when she first stepped foot inside all those years ago. Candles burned to provide dim lighting, and books on the Chantry and of the Chant filled several shelves. Some cobwebs had yet to be cleaned out, and several pews empty save for forgotten papers and books.

Most of the furniture from her first visit was gone. The wooden platform at the front where speeches and sermons were made was done away with, as were most of the shelves and desks covered in scrolls and books, burned—if Leliana remembered correctly—for their heretical, blasphemous contents. The Chantry looked barren now compared to when the Disciples of Andraste had made it their home.

Not for the first time, Leliana wondered if she looked hard enough, if she would be able to see the bloodstains from that night. She could still remember, vividly, where each person had been felled. How could she not? It hadn’t been soldiers or monsters that they had killed that night, but normal men and women, farmers and bakers and crafters.

Her eyes flickered to front of the space. A podium now stood over where Elio had cut Eirik down, his sword had cut through the man’s neck so deeply he had nearly lopped his whole head off. Not for the first time, but it was always a grisly sight. Even now it chilled her knowing just how easily he could decapitate someone in a fight—a feat that needed the executioner to be either incredibly precise in how they land that final blow, or incredibly strong to not worry about the resistance of muscle and bone.

And yet despite the nervous fear there was always a rush of admiration, of awe. Her Warden had always been a stalwart leader to their party, and when he fought, no matter how soaked in blood he became from the carnage he carved, he always incited a flutter in her chest, left Leliana wanting to reach out to him and—

She never did. Theirs was a friendship, close as it may have been at the time, but nothing more.

Leliana walked onwards, towards the end where the door to their makeshift war room was. She didn’t go inside, instead stopping at the statues that stood on either side, and knelt at the foot of one, her head bowed as a silent prayer was made. Faith could only get them so far, she knew that now, but that wouldn’t stop her from asking the Maker to aid them on their quest.

The shadows flickered and she realized she was not alone.

Raising her head and turning, she spotted the Herald sitting in the corner on an empty barrel, fiddling with a trinket in his hands. He was staring owlishly at her, as if he hadn’t expected someone else to come here, or for someone else to catch him here. She must have been more tired—more distracted—than she had realized to have not noticed him when she entered the Chantry.

For a moment, she considered leaving. The Herald, for all the good he had done for them so far, was still an unknown with dangerous powers, potentially blessed by and brought to them by Andraste herself. A part of her wanted to back away, unworthy to be in the presence of someone like that. But—no. Blessings or no blessings, she had just as much right to be in the Chantry as him. So she rose from her knees and discreetly pulled her hand away from the concealed knife at her belt.

The Herald blinked, wide eyes not leaving her as his fingers tightened around his trinket. “Leliana,” he greeted with a nervous bite to the name. She didn’t need to be observant to know that he was still just as nervous around them as most were around him.

“Herald,” Leliana greeted.

His attention stayed on her as the silence settled back in between them. Like most of his kind, his eyes were large, colored a deep, vivid green, like a vibrant forest, that mixed perfectly with the brilliant red locks of hair that fell just past his ears in tussled—fluffy—curls. He looked older than the Hero of Ferelden had been, yet somehow his gaze felt younger, full of the wonder and fear of a child. He was in his early twenties, this much Leliana knew, while Elio had barely been twenty when they met, old enough to be married off, old enough to go to war, and still a child.

She shook her head at the thoughts. “I apologize if I disturbed you, I hadn’t expected anyone else to be here so late at night.”

“No,” the Herald coughed, looking away from her and at the candles, the books, at anything but her. “It’s fine, anyone’s allowed to come and go in here.” He was taller than the Hero had been, she noted. Elio had been the shortest in their group until Oghren joined. The Herald was taller—more at an average height for their race, she supposed—and just as slender as any other Dalish Hunter she’d seen—toned arms and legs, slender features, lithe.

How ironic, Leliana thought, the last time the world was in danger, it was an elf from the slums who rose above all to save them, fighting on even as the rest of them fell in the final battle, striking the Archdemon down and ending the Blight. Now, as the sky is left wounded, torn open into the Fade, their fate and salvation rests upon the shoulders of an elf yet again.

She settled into a seat of her own, not too far from the Herald, but not beside him either. “What brings you out here so late, anyway?” she found herself asking, and then knitted her brows together. “You’re supposed to be leaving for Val Royeaux at dawn, are you not? You should be resting.” It was going to take several weeks, even with horses and if they travelled along the Imperial Highway, to get there. Cassandra would have his head if he was exhausted when they began their journey.

The Herald looked at the trinket in his hands again—a Dalish necklace, Leliana finally saw, an amulet for one of their Gods. “Couldn’t sleep,” he murmured quietly, “Everything’s just been so….” Pausing, he shook his head. “Sleep just kept eluding me.”

She understood that feeling more than she cared to admit.

Humming, the Herald reached down with his free hand, and she took note of the mabari that had been sleeping beside him, the young one he’d rescued from the Hinterlands—Buddy, if she remembered correctly. The Herald absentmindedly ran his fingers through the dogs short fur and wrinkled skin, looking the part of someone being crushed under the weight of the world, and Leliana was once again struck with memory by the resemblance to her old friend.

Gently running his fingers up and down Garahel’s back, Elio stared at the fire in contemplative silence. The rest of their camp had long since gone to sleep, only he and Leliana remained awake to guard them for the first few hours of the night.

There were bags under his eyes, she had noticed. They were worsening each night, his face aging rapidly from the stress of all that they had faced—and all that they still had to fight. In the quiet of night, he no longer looked the same friendly, cheerful Warden she knew, this was instead a man who was carrying the world on his shoulders, a man whose knees were finally buckling under the weight.

No words were said as Leliana sat beside him. His attention remained fixed, and she looked to the fire as if she might see whatever he did in the crackling flames, and then she turned her gaze away, afraid of what she might see.

Hand still on his war hound, gaze still fixed to the crackling flames, Elio spoke after an eternity of silence. “Do you think we can win this?”

She had been taken aback by the question, not that it had been asked but that it had been the elf who had asked it.

Elio was always the one to assuage their worries of fate and defeat, the one who told them that they were going to win, no matter how terrible the odds were against them. He never doubted, never shied, and treated the future as if their victory over Loghain and the Archdemon was already carved into stone by the Maker.

She couldn’t answer him, and they returned to silence.

Looking back on it, it had been a humanizing moment. Up until then, Leliana had seen her friend as an undefeatable hero, blessed by the Maker himself to be their shield and their sword, a soldier who would never be defeated. To have him express his doubts to her, it meant that he was still mortal, like all of them, that he was human—generally speaking, of course.

She saw that same look of doubt and exhaustion on the Herald’s face, now.

At the time, Leliana hadn’t been able to help Elio, she didn’t have the words, she didn’t have the confidence, and to this day she still wondered how much things would have changed if she had been able to soothe his own fears the same as he did for all of theirs. She hadn’t been able to help Elio, but she could at least help the Herald of—she could help Cian.

“We are going to win this,” Leliana said, her voice firm in the quiet, dim space. She watched as green eyes lifted to meet hers, and she continued. “You’re not doing this alone, Cian. You have me and the others here to support you whenever you ask, you have the Inquisition forces ready to spring to action the moment they are needed—and more still join every day.”

She straightened her back as she spoke, her gaze not leaving his, locked on his wide, wonder filled eyes, “Us winning isn’t a question of ‘if’, it’s a matter of ‘when’. We’ll prove ourselves and gain the Chantry’s support, absolving you of the crimes they claimed, we’ll seal the Breach, and we will find who is responsible. You don’t have to feel like you’re doing this alone, you can share some of your burdens with us.”

Slowly, Cian lowered his head, “I—thank you,” he whispered, his shoulders sagging as he let out a deep breath. “I needed that, I didn’t realize how badly I needed that.”

Of course he hadn’t. Leliana smiled, nevertheless, as she watched the tension fade away from his face.

Cracking a smile, struck by an idea, Leliana leaned forward, “You know…? I was with the Hero of Ferelden when we rediscovered the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” she whispered, feeling her smile widen as she saw curiosity and awe dance across the elf’s face. “At the time, Haven belonged to a cult who believed Andraste was a dragon and worshipped it—we had to fight through so many drakes, dragonlings, and cultists to reach the temple, and the Warden even struck down a high dragon.”

Cian leaned forward in his seat; his mouth opened slightly. “Seriously?” he asked, tapping his fingers to his legs with anxious energy. “I thought it was some Chantry guy who found it, but you helped rediscover the temple?”

“We did, we needed the urn to save the Arl of Redcliffe,” Leliana agreed, her heart feeling feather-light in her chest at the memory of the adventure. “Would you like me to tell you the whole story? It was quite the experience.”

At Cian’s eager ‘yes’, she launched into retelling how Eamon had grown sick from Loghain’s poison, and the journey they took to locate Brother Genitivi and the Urn. It had been a while since had had been a storyteller, but she found that she fell back into the role naturally as she recounted each fight and twist that took them to the Frostback Mountains.

[wyvernscales]

Symbols I associate with ocs - Worldstate: The Maker’s (un)Chosen

Talani Brosca: hands, bruises, daggers, nail marks/scratches, keys, crates/barrels

Feja Aeducan: pearls, anything art deco, sequins, gold, perfume bottles

Elias Mahariel: fire, the color green, puddles, tall grass, pine trees

Cian Hawke: the sea, the color blue, oil paintings, the sky, round staircases

Brielle Lavellan: leather, sunflowers, honey, the color yellow, bees, the sun

Elara Lavellan: old books, bundles of drying herbs, quills, feathers, botanical drawings

[wyvern-ocs]

Stars Warden: My canon has three Wardens. So there’s literally a constellation of them.

Moon Hawke: Cian is emotional and sensitive. He gives off a lot of light, but he doesn’t drown out the sky.

Sun Inquisitor: Brielle is sooooo sun. When I think of her, I think of sunflowers, honey, sunshine, and joy.

I just had a thought. In your canon worldstate, who fills what part of the sun-moon-stars character types?

Also please give me explanations in the tags i'm nosy 😳

[cityandking]

🔺🍎💛🧐 for Minah and Rani?

thanks! // details about ocs

🔺 RED TRIANGLE POINTED UP — does your oc know how to use any weapons?

MINAH — minah's got pretty broad weapons experience. she can use a bow, dagger, rapier, shortsword, and a fair few other simple weapons. mostly she sticks to the shortbow; she likes not having to get up close and personal in combat

NARAYANI — bow, daggers, and shortswords. usually she uses a pair of twin daggers, but she'll adjust depending on the job

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

MINAH — she's from the free marches, though she doesn't spend a lot of time there anymore except when passing through on the way to or from antiva. she has extremely mixed feelings about her homeland

NARAYANI — rani isn't sure where exactly she was born, but she was picked up by clan lavellan somewhere around the antiva/rivain border. the clan has drifted further south over the years, but rani has visited the area a few times. she doesn't remember enough about her birthplace to feel any connection to it; even her connection to clan lavellan has frayed

💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any?

MINAH — speaks common, marcher, antivan, tevene, and thieves cant if we're counting that. currently (iirc) she and party healer cian are working out some tevene sign language so cian can communicate with a mage from tevinter. she likes languages and wouldn't mind learning another—maybe orlesian?

NARAYANI — speaks common, a smattering of antivan, the tiny bit of modern elven her people have managed to hold onto, and (after the well of sorrows) ancient elvhen. she spends her time post-game getting more of a handle on the elvish. just in case.

🧐 FACE WITH MONOCLE — is your oc more logical or emotional?

MINAH — more logical. a lot of that logic is guided by fear and other emotions, but she is constantly thinking through things. not always coming to good or correct conclusions, but she's definitely thinking!

NARAYANI — more emotional. she's ruled by instinct and feeling, and often logic comes second to that

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

List of Sexualities for Current list of Dragon Age MCs:

For Freedom’s Design

Cian Mahariel: Bisexual. Does prefer men as a whole but is fairly equal in his interest. Romances Zevran, and has a threesome with Isabela.

Lorry Hawke: Bisexual. Goes for girls mostly due to her complicated feeling on motherhood and the scare of a child. Romances Isabela. Did have a minor crush on Fenris that went nowhere.

Mila Trevylan: Asexual but unaware. She’s interested in sex but only in a ‘this sounds interesting’ thing. Does enjoy it so she remains unaware. Romances Iron Bull after a brief flirtation with Blackwell she ends due to her uncomfortable with the idea of being with someone who sees her as the Herald of Andraste.

Good Men Need Rules

Folcher Aueducan: Bisexual but unaware. He’s always just looked at woman. Romances Leliana.

Archie Hawke: Demisexual. Struggled with ideas of attraction for most of his life. Romances Merrill who he loves dearly.

Lucas Cadash: Straight. Romances Cassandra.

Crashing Fantasies

Noamahn Tabris: Straight. He once tried with a guy but deemed it not for him. Romances Morrigan

Aine Hawke: Bisexual. Had a huge thing for Isabela but ends up with Anders. Is a himbo to the max.

Davhalla Lavellan: Pansexual. Had a thing for multiple members of the Inquisition, including Harding. Davhalla ends up with Solas in the end.

Those We Care For

Rosalind Amell: Gaaaaaaaaaay. She didn’t used to be but she developed into it. Romances Leliana.

Lilith Hawke: Bisexual. Has no preference. Gets with Anders.

Shok Adaar: Bisexual. Has a thing for Blackwall and Sera. I had two ways she went I’ve landed on her romancing Sera.

Mistakes Make us People

Thea Surana: Straight. Mostly. A pretty butch woman turns her head but it’s not common. Ends up with Alistair.

Teddy Hawke: Straight. Annoyed me since I wanted to romance Isabela but Teddy kept yelling straight. Romances Fenris then Anders.

Ophelia Trevylan: Straight. Never tried and never wanted to. Pretended to be to help a friend avoid and annoying admirer. Romances Blackwall.

With Bloody Hands

Muirin Cousland: No clue. Legit this girl is only into power. She does end up carings for Alistair in the end but she romances him for the power.

Willow Hawke: Straight. Romances Sebastian because she honestly liked him but it was a plus he’s a prince.

Gloria Trevylan: Straight. Was only into Iron Bull at first but romances Cullen for the power. Does actually come to love him.

Uneasy Rests the Laurels

Lochlan Hawke: Bisexual. Romances Zevran and married Anora. Ends up in an honest triad with them.

Simon Hawke: Gay. Very much. Romances Fenris.

Edmund Trevylan: Bisexual. Romances Dorian, and loves him very much.

Revolution is Never Kind

Runa Amell: Murder. And men. Very straight, romances Zevran.

Wyome Hawke: asexual but very into Anders and Justice. Has no positive or negative thoughts in sex.

Faith Sustains

Brynja Brosca: Gay. Has had sex with men for money but rates it a 0 each time. Romances Leliana.

Aisley Hawke: She is asexual and sex repulsed. Falls in love with Sebastian and they have a chaste marriage he supports and loves even when Prince because he is a good guy.

Charity Cadash: Bisexual. Also a trans woman who doesn’t talk about it much. Romances Josiephine.

To Be Kind

Caoimhe Tabris: Bisexual. Is into buff people though. Romances Alistair.

Ivy Hawke: Bisexual. Isn’t that focused on romance with everything. Romances Fenris.

Revas Lavellan: Pansexual. Has had casual relationships with all genders. Dabbled in gender non conforming and identity stuff. Not for her. Romances Solas.

Love Yourself

Riley Cousland: Straight. Has a lot of internal issues regarding beauty and self worth. Romances Zevran.

Ivy Hawke: Bisexual. In this world also has a lot of issues she’s working though. Romances Fenris still.

Harel Lavellan: Bisexual. I never really settled on a romance for her, she’s kind of always gravitated towards Josie though. So probably Josephine.

[ma-sulevin]

16. "when one person’s face is scrunched up, and the other one kisses their lips/nose/forehead" For Josie/Cian, please?

this is so cute. this also might be my first time writing them together?? I can’t remember.

Anyway. Cian Lavellan/Josephine Montilyet for @dadrunkwriting

When she’s working in her office, Josephine’s face is a careful mask of politeness. Her brow never furrows, her lips never purse, and her eyes always stay sharp.

When she joins the Inquisitor in his chambers to work in the evenings... she’s less composed. Frustrating requests are met with grumbles, frowns, glares, and heavy sighs. She puts off the ones she doesn’t want to respond to until the last minute, then works her magic with her ink and quill in this safe space she’s found in her new home.

Cian watches as her expression changes from moment to moment, a soft smile on his full lips, his own reports forgotten. She’s so beautiful--always, but especially here, with her hair flowing loose around her shoulders and her guard down. He can see the real Josephine, the Josephine he loves, and he can’t bear to miss a second of it.

She catches him staring. “What?” she demands, sounding cross even though he knows she isn’t really. He doesn’t respond right away, just waiting so he can see the way her face scrunches up in annoyance. Her nose wrinkles, her lower lip pushes up, her eyebrows lower. The little mole on her chin calls to him, so he pushes his writing tools aside to cross the distance between them.

Her eyes light up and her expression twists into something a little different, a light shining through her eyes that doesn’t match the way she’s still pouting. He cups her cheek to hold her face still and leans down, brushing his lips across her forehead, then against the tip of her nose, and finally on her full lips.

When he pulls away, she’s blushing.

“That’s what.”

[bliighted]

@pellelavellan​

         “what’s clan lavellan’s take on all this?”​

         there is finally a second to BREATHE. as soon as cian had noticed pelle alone on the ramparts he had taken the opportunity to join him. anything to escape the constant NOISE of the courtyard and the war table meetings. how had he ended up in CHARGE of all this? he was in chains DAYS ago. 

       “i doubt you see me as the herald of andraste- but i hope you’ll trust me to guide us as much as THEY do.” 

    he clears his throat, somewhat awkwardly, turning to look out over the mountains that surround the castle the inquisition has claimed. 

      “i want to do what’s right... for EVERYBODY. that includes your people, too. i won’t make the mistakes of my predecessors.”

[lvllns]

oc bio tag!

i got tagged by @goblin-deity​ and @stvnningstrike​ days ago lmao, thank you both sm!!

i will taaaag @femmeshep​, @arlathen​, @trvelyans​, @lavellane​, @solasan​, @ottobooty​, @darksprawn​, @montliyets​ and anyone else who wants to do this!!

The Basics Full Name: Eavan Delany Codename or Nickname: Hunter, General, Lieutenant, darling Birth Date: Winter (27 years old) Birth Place: [redacted] Nationality: Eskrian Organisation/Group: The Hunters Former Affiliates: [redacted]

Family + Friends Father: Cian Delaney Mother: Maeve Delaney Siblings: Three younger brothers (Aidan, Luca, and Torin), one older sister (Caoimhe) Other Relatives: None of note Spouses: August Willenheim Children: —

Description Height: 5′4 (163 cm) Weight: ~135lbs Hair Colour: Dark blonde Eye Colour: Grey Skin Colour: Fair, though usually slightly tan from all their time spent outside Any Scars: Too many to count. They range from claw marks, to wounds from swords and daggers, to bite marks. Any Tattoos: Yes but I haven’t designed them yet shhhh Any Piercings: So.....so many that I haven’t nailed down yet dsanfdsag Other Notable Features: Absolutely covered in freckles, a few small patches of vitiligo on her arms and abdomen Random Facts: Hasn’t seen their family since they were 12 but writes to them as often as they can. Runs a little hot. Heightened senses due to their Hunter status. Left-handed.

The Basics Full Name: Dust Mahoney Codename or Nickname: “Thorn in my fucking side” Birth Date: Spring (28 years old) Birth Place: Adelna, Vih’thris Nationality: Vih’thrian Organisation/Group: [redacted] Former Affiliates: N/A

Family + Friends Father: Alive somewhere probably Mother: Died when they were a young child Siblings: None Other Relatives: Uncles, aunts, cousins, the usual Spouses: None Children: Nope

Description Height: 5′8 (173 cm) Weight: ~150lbs Hair Colour: Dark brown Eye Colour: Green Skin Colour: Fair, almost always lightly tan from their time spent outside Any Scars: A few, mostly from various blades Any Tattoos: Yes but hhhhhh I haven’t designed them yet leave me alone Any Piercings: Ears in multiple places, labret, septum Other Notable Features: Freckles everywhere, slightly elongated ears and sharp canines due to their fae heritage. Random Facts: Very good at getting in and out of places undiscovered. Absolutely ticklish. Excellent smooth talker. Good memory. A pretty damn good spy really.

[feyflorist]

“I see you enjoy playing with fire, Inquisitor.”

[andrastesflamingknickers]

You Don't Adopt The Dog, The Dog Adopts You

Obligatory AO3 Link

Cian really didn’t see what the problem was. The Hinterlands were great!

Sure, the area had room to improve. It could certainly stand to be less on fire and ravaged by the templar-mage war as they killed each other and anyone who crossed their paths and looked at them wrong. But looking past all the bloodshed and carnage, Cian was sure that the Hinterlands were a lovely place when not used as a battlefield for two unhinged and powerful powerhouse groups.

It was packed with green fields and thick trees, plenty of hills and rocky outcrops, and so many streams that formed ideal places to stop and rest at. Really, it was just an incredibly nice place.

Even though his travel companions complained and griped about the area seemingly nonstop, Cian was perfectly content to linger in the Hinterlands for as long as they could, even after they had reached Mother Giselle and sent her on her way to Haven with an entourage of Inquisition soldiers. She had given them the next advisable step to take before she had left—to go to Val Royeaux—and their main reason to be in the Hinterlands was technically complete.

And yet, Cian remained.

Cassandra was not subtle in her displeasure as Cian continued to keep them in the Hinterlands, travelling from one Inquisition camp to the next, but she made no attempt to stop him. Yes, he was trying to hold off on going to Val Royeaux for as long as possible, because he just did not see a point to go. Even if they took the Imperial Highway and traveled with mounts, it would still take over a month for what would effectively just be them popping in to say hello and immediately being yelled at by Chantry ladies for existing, maybe even being chased out of the city because Cian was fairly sure they still thought him responsible for the Divines death and the terrifying green hole in the sky.

Considering all of that, Cian really didn’t see it as worth the time or cost.

But it wasn’t as if he was just mindlessly procrastinating. There was plenty of important things to do in the Hinterlands! And! Cullen and Josephine both did advise him to seek out opportunities to expand the Inquisitions influence in the area. He couldn’t well do that if he wasn’t in the area, now could he?

Besides, between the rifts and the war, he couldn’t in good conscious just up and leave everyone to fend for themselves. He’d head back to Haven once he was sure the Inquisition had more hold over the area.

For several days they spend the daylight hours wandering the land, exploring, and fighting when they were unable to avoid it, fighting both mages and Templars who thought them on the side of the other. The nights were spent beneath the stars, taking shifts to keep watch, a low fire in the center to provide light and warmth. And Cian liked that. He was far more used to sleeping out beneath an open sky than he was sleeping in cabins and buildings.

They were about a day out from Lake Luthias, and had already managed to seal four rifts since reaching the Hinterlands. Bonus; it left him less ragged and in agony with each rift—he was still tired after each one, and his body still felt like it’d been turned into a bears chew toy. But it was progress.

Personally, Cian saw that as a victory!

With a somewhat brisk pace, Cian led their small ragtag world-saving group through the trees and across a narrow creak, carefully stepping over twisted roots and fallen branches. This was his element. Exploring the wilderness, navigating dense forests and fields. This was terrain he was far more at ease in than in Haven—cold, cramped, and full of humans.

He stayed ahead of the group, always far enough ahead where he could scout for oncoming dangers and threats, never too far ahead that Cassandra might lose her head thinking he ran off.

“Did you truly believe the conclave could achieve peace, Cassandra?” Solas asked, his soothing voice behind Cian, bushes rustling as the rest of the group followed his lead. His staff was held and used like a walking stick, pushing away branches and shrubs and helping him as he walked up steeper inclines. Not that pretending it was anything but what it was did much to aid them. The few groups of Templars they had crossed paths with were the attack first, ask questions never sort. If they so much as suspected for a fraction of a second that they had a mage among them—it was on sight.

Of course, the Templars weren’t wrong, so really, Cian had to give them credit for always clocking Solas as a mage the moment they laid eyes on him, even if it was less of actually being able to tell and more a result of bloodlust and paranoia.

Cassandra sighed, and it was impressive that her armor didn’t slow her down, though it threw out any options of stealth with the way it clinked and clanked. “I had hope,” she answered. “We all did.”

“The Templars went to war to force the mages back into their circles, which the mages would never agree to,” Solas reminded gently, his voice patient, far from accusing. “What solution could Divine Justinia have offered when all sides so fervently rejected compromise?”

It was a good point, Cian thought to himself as he used one of his daggers to cut aside a low hanging branch, keeping his steps light and quiet with each step across grass and dirt.

“The war was going nowhere for either side,” Cassandra answered, and he heard the familiar metallic tapping of bush twigs scraping against her greaves. “That they went at all showed that they realized this. That they were willing to at least listen and could be urged to find peace.”

“Of they believed the other side would relent.”

Behind him, Cassandra sighed once more. “We shall never know, now.”

Cian frowned at that, but kept moving, leaving his companions to chat and whisper among themselves as he diverted his full attention to their surroundings once more. He would be more than happy to gossip and all that when they made camp at dusk, but for now it would be best if he remained undistracted, so that he could ensure they were not ambushed by man or beast.

Especially since the others were making themselves obvious targets with their absolute lack of understanding stealth. Really, would it have killed them to be quieter? Lovely scenery aside, they were still in an active warzone and no allies on either side.

As a result, the moment he heard rustling in the bushes ahead of them, he raised his hand to signal the others to stay still and quiet. Once the three behind him did as instructed, Cian crept forward, scampered along a fallen log that was propped up on another bent tree, he drew his daggers and watched in wait for whatever was approaching, every muscle in his body tensed, prepared to jump, and strike from above.

The bushes bent and crushed as a pair of rams ran through them, bleating as they went. He watched as Varric scrambled back just to avoid being trampled on as the two beasts kept running. That, Cian noted, wasn’t normal. They were running from something.

And so, he did not relax, not as he drew further up his fallen tree trunk, not as he eventually jumped down and followed where the rams came from.

His questions and wonders were answered quickly enough by the low whimpers and whines, and the thick scent of blood that hung in the air past the bushes, leading the small group to a small clearing.

There in the center was a large dog, it’s hind leg bloodied and trapped within the metal fangs of a steel jaw trap.

“Oh,” Cassandra breathed from behind him. “The poor creature.”

“It’s a mabari,” Varric said, and Cian was grateful, he’d ever seen a dog quite that big or broad before. “It’s still young by the looks of it, not full grown,” the dwarf continued, causing him to falter. Because the dog already looked like it was almost as big as Varric, it being even bigger was a frightening thought.

The dog watched them, growling lowly before breaking into another whimper from what Cian could only imagine was unbearable pain. It was heartbreaking to see and to hear.

He sheathed one of the daggers, left the other free in his hand as he approached the dog. “Hey there, buddy,” Cian whispered. The dog growled in warning as he lowered himself to a knee right in front of the animal.

“Careful, Lucky,” Varric warned. “Those things are pretty dangerous. Back in Kirkwall, we had one in our group, and the guy just about tore a man’s arm off with ease, and this arm was a barrel of muscle compared to your twig of a limb.”

“Not to mention you retaining your hand is more than a little important,” Solas piped up, and Cian almost didn’t notice how the mage kept further back from the dog than the rest of them. Almost. He just shoved that little detail in the mental file of My Companions Weird Traits to be looked over never, and focused his attention back onto the dog.

The dog growled when he drew closer, and Cian offered a smile. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’m here to help,” he said softly, keeping his hand out to the mabari and waiting, staying still and calm. He was never as good with the animals as others in his clan had been, better at hunting them, sure, but not so much at being buddies with them. But he did learn a few things from Renan and Athriel, and maybe that would be good enough.

The dog cautiously sniffed his hand before lowering his head with a whine.

Taking that as his cue, Cian shuffled closer and examined the trap. It was insanely rusty, which made him fear for the dog getting sick even after it’s leg was freed, but other than that it wasn’t an overly complicated trap by any means. Simple springs, coils, and levers. He could work with that.

Finding the two compress levers on either side of the rusty, bloodied jaws, Cian pressed down on them with all his strength and—nothing. No give. No shift. The dog shuffled and cried, and Cian set his jaw. “Okay, maybe I’ve just got noodles for arms and that’s why,” he muttered before smiling at the dog and running his fingers through it’s short, wrinkly pelt. “Don’t worry, buddy, I’m not giving up. We’ll get you out.”

Plan B, then.

He shifted so he was almost straddling the trap and paw, resting his knees on the levers, letting his weight press down on it instead. The jaws creaked and opened just a little—and now Cian could understand the problem was, the trap was so rusted and old, the lever’s were almost completely useless. It wouldn’t matter how much presser he put on them, he doubted the levers alone would open the jaws up any further than the little that it already had. So, that meant there was only one logical thing left to do to open the trap up.

“Be careful,” Cassandra said, stepping forward the moment Cian shoved his hands in between the rusty iron teeth, but he ignored her as he grabbed hold of the jaws and slowly pried them open.

The metal dug into his palms, and he felt the sting and ache followed by a wet, warm drip down his flesh. He ignored it and continued to push.

It took a while, the jaws were stubborn and stuck, but he eventually managed to open the metal trap wide enough for the mabari to pull his leg back with a whimper and a limp. Cian smiled in relief and slowly let the trap jaws shut until the levers left them open enough for him to slip his aching hands back out.

“Well, would you look at that,” Varric hummed, already pulling bandages and a wound cleanser from his bag to treat the dog as Cian worked to dismantle the trap so it wouldn’t happen again. “You got him free, good job, hero.”

With a sheepish laugh, Cian finished wrenching the last piece off, tossing the rusty parts into a pouch on his satchel so they couldn’t be put back on and triggered. “Just doing my Maker-given duty of helping people, I suppose,” he joked back as he watched the dwarf tend to the dogs leg.

The mabari was notably calmer. Sitting still as Varric worked on him, and once he was done and backed away, the dog remained sitting, watching them.

Smiling, Cian reached back into his satchel and retrieved a piece of jerky, tossing it to the dog. “A treat. For being so patient with us as we worked to get you out,” he said, reaching out as the dog started eating the meat up to pet him, running his hand along the wrinkly, loose skin. What a silly looking dog, Cian thought. Absolutely nothing like the small, lithe coursers the clans kept.

“There is very little that is quite so Ferelden as a mabari war hound,” Cassandra mused as she knelt down beside him, offering a gloved hand to the canine. With the jerky gone, the dog raised his head to sniff and lick the new hand, before snapping his jaws to gnaw on the metal of the gauntlet. She had a small, but soft, smile as the dog did so. “I wonder if it’s master is around.”

Cian continued to pet the dog, even as it tried to use Cassandra’s glove as a chew toy. “Master?” he asked, and wanted to slap himself immediately for saying it. Of course, a tamed dog would have a master, why was he even asking something so stupid?

But Cassandra paid his fumble no mind. “Mabari are incredibly intelligent, more so than any other dog. They are also fiercely loyal to their masters, or so I’ve heard,” she explained before pulling her hand back, earning a pitiful whine from the hound when it’s toy was taken. “I’ve seen very few mabari in person, and I’ve interacted with even less.”

“Hawke had a mabari,” Varric added with a wry grin as he packed up the medical supplies. “Dancer, she called him. The friendliest dog you’ve ever met when it came to the gang and family. But anyone that wasn’t buddies with her? Well—they’re war hounds for a reason. She took him with us on the Wounded Coast one time, and I swear that dog just about mauled a Tal-Vashoth to death without getting a scratch on himself.”

That was quite the mental image. He’d seen the Qunari before, from afar and only briefly, and they were massive beings of pure muscle. To imagine his little buddy right here to be able to defeat one with such ease? Well, now he was starting to wonder if there was more to the Dread Wolf’s aversion to dogs in the stories than just losing his tail to one.

Solas tapped his foot impatiently, and Cian realized he was the only one in their small group that had kept a distance to the dog. “Da’len,” he began, a faint scowl on his expression as he looked at the dog. “We should keep going if we still wish to make it to Lake Luthias by tomorrow, and it would be unwise to try to travel in the dark, with so many threats currently surrounding us.”

He had a point, Cian conceded.

“Well, little buddy, we’ve got to keep going,” Cian said, pushing himself back to his feet and offering the dog one last pet. “It was nice meeting you, but you should go find your owner and home. Try to avoid stumbling into any other traps, okay?”

The mabari tilted his head and barked, and Cian took that as affirmation. Still, something in his stomach twisted. Guilt, he supposed. This was a very dangerous place, and a part of him felt bad for just leaving a wounded dog to fend for itself. Sighing, he pulled out more bits of jerky from his satchel and offered it to the dog. “Here, so you don’t get yourself too hungry, though I’m sure you can hunt just fine on your own.”

They left the mabari there, happily chomping away on bits of dried jerky, as they continued their hike through the Hinterlands wilderness to reach Lake Luthias, the silence filled with boots on the earth, and of Varric telling of his exploits with Hawke—the theme now having shifted to adventures involving her own mabari.

Cian listened intently, though he made sure his attention was also affixed on their surroundings. They didn’t run into too much trouble beyond a couple of wolves that attacked them. By the time dusk had settled, they had managed to make camp in the shelter of a shallow cave.

They had a low fire to provide light and warmth, and cooking over it were the two rabbits that Cian had caught. Their dinner for the day that would go along with a small helping of wild berries plucked from a couple of bushes that were outside the cave.

Unseasoned, the cooked meat didn’t have the greatest smell as it cooked, but after a long day of walking, it was still a mouthwatering aroma.

It was a rather peaceful evening as they mended their equipment and rested their weary legs, the night quiet save for the song of birds, the gentle crackle of the fire, and the rustle of branches in the breeze. Or so, it was until the peace was broken by loud, loud barking.

Solas cursed under his tongue as the mabari from earlier ran to them from the cover of the trees and bushes, barking and howling, pounding his massive front paws to the earth. “Why did it follow us?”

His complaint was ignored as Cian drew to the dog, hands out in a placating manner. “Hey, buddy, what’s the matter?” he asked, and the dog turned on heel, facing the direction he came from and growling lowly. Cian followed his gaze, heard the snapping of twigs and the quiet, yet familiar, sound of metal on metal.

Immediately he withdrew a smaller dagger from his hip, his main weapons still by his pack in the cave. “We’ve got visitors,” he warned, just as an arrow flew by. It nicked him in the ear, but otherwise missed and crumpled when it struck the stone of the cave, but had struck enough to draw blood.

Several humans lumbered into the light of the fire, dressed in mismatched armor and equipment, clearly ransacked from fallen soldiers. Bandits.

Cian didn’t wait to find out if they were here to exchange pleasantries. With a cry of war, he leapt towards the closest one, his companions following suit with swords and arrows and magic flying about as the bandits retaliated. They had likely thought he and his group were simple travelers, that they wouldn’t be much of a fight. Easy pickings.

If that was what they had thought, they would have realized immediately how wrong they were.

They were barely outnumbered, and ill-prepared for a fight, and yet nevertheless the battle was over in minutes, over and done before the blood could even start pumping in his veins. It was almost disappointing, really.

Wiping his knife clean of blood, he felt the mabari press it’s head to his leg, a gentle bump that was still strong enough to nearly topple Cian over. But he remained standing, and looked down at the dog, butt wiggling, open-mouth panting, and looking incredibly happy with what had happened.

He couldn’t help but to laugh a little. “Thanks, buddy,” Cian said, sheathing his knife and dropping to his knee so he could cup the dogs face between his hands and just start rubbing and shaking him. “You really saved our hides, giving us that warning and all. What a good boy you are.” As he cooed, he couldn’t help but wonder if the dog had been following them this whole time.

Varric laughed at the sight as he rifled through one of the bandit’s pockets for anything of value. Great minds think alike, Cian supposed. Why leave trinkets and weapons on the dead when they could take them and use them? Not like the bandits were going to be making any use of them anymore, and is it really theft when it’s stolen from a thief? Before Cian could go too deep in those lines of thoughts, the dwarf spoke with another laugh. “I think the dog’s taken a liking to you.”

He raised a brow, looking from Varric and to the dog. “Oh?” Cian asked, feeling his lips twist into a grin. “Is he telling the truth, did you grow fond of me? I suppose there is no better bonding experience than a steel jaw trap. Do you want to come with us?”

The dog barked happily, and just about knocked Cian to the ground as it leapt at him again, giving him slobbering kisses.

Solas groaned, and remained a good distance away from the dog just as before. “Please think this through carefully,” he stressed, looking at the dog like he was midwife look a roach. “Do we really have the means to take care of a dog as we travel? Let’s just leave it with one of the soldiers at a camp, or one of the refugees at the Crossings, or—”

The dog barked and growled, and Solas flinched back so quickly that it was kind of laughable.

“Do you not like dogs, Solas?” Cassandra asked as she returned her sword and shield to her belongings.

The man gave a huff, crossing his arms over his chest and refused to look at the mabari. “No, I do not,” he confirmed with a bit of a bite. “They are loud, slobbering creatures. They make a mess of things, and— oh, I could just go on about why they are so unpleasant.”

The mabari only growled some more at him.

Cian laughed, and calmed the dog with some more pets, running his hands across the thick, wrinkled skin. “Should I just start calling you Fen’Harel?” he asked playfully, his attention on the dog as those growls turned into happy panting.

“Excuse me?” Solas spluttered, and Cian supposed that was a reasonable response from his hahren, no one would want to be called the Dread Wolf, it was a positively…dreadful moniker to be dubbed.

Okay, Cian would admit that was an awful joke.

“You know the myths same as I—” he probably knew the myths even more intimately than Cian, what with his fade exploits and whatnot. “The Dread Wolf loathes and fears dogs after losing his tail to one. You’re so hostile about our buddy here, that one might think it was you who lost a tail.”

Solas’ face twisted into something sour, “I’m not—I don’t fear dogs,” he argued before throwing his hand up into the air. “Just, nevermind. Keep the blasted beast if you must, just keep it away from me and mine.”

That was reasonable.

Turning back to the mabari, Cian grinned. “You know, I always wanted a dog of my own. So maybe this is a bit of fate finally giving me a puppy—not that you’re really a puppy anymore. Still as cute as one, for sure,” he cooed, and the dog continued to bark, butt wiggling in joy. “You’re going to need a name, now aren’t you?”

“You should name him Fen’Harel,” Varric offered with a playful smirk that only grew at Solas’ evident discomfort at the idea. “As a bit of a joke.”

It was tempting, but ultimately a no. Cassandra suggested, surprisingly enough, Barkspawn, and had defended that choice, citing that it was a common name among dogs back in Nevarra. Cian had his doubts, but he also had no evidence to contradict it, and so that was left alone.

Solas had, unhelpfully, said to just call it dog. Uncreative. Terrible. And cemented that Cian would never go to his fellow elf for naming advice again.

Eventually, Cian did decide on a name, one he was quite proud of as he sat on the cave floor, the dog stretched out across his legs, pinning him to the ground. “Buddy,” he decided, running his hand along the dogs back. He’d already been calling the dog his little buddy, so the name felt like it had already stuck. “You’ll be my little Buddy, how’s that sound?”

Buddy barked, twisted and rolled until he could reach Cian’s face to give him another slobbering kiss. His way of showing his approval.

So, it was decided. Buddy was his name, the newest member of their little band of heroes.

[wyvernscales]

Woe, full names be upon ye

Mi'var "Brielle" Atheraniel Mahariel of Clan Lavellan Cian Ronan Hawke Feja Anika Aestyth Valda Angyalka Aeducan Eth'las "Elias" Atheranion Mahariel of Clan Sabrae Talani Brosca Elara Assanniel Sabrae of Clan Lavellan Ghilana Elariel Sabrae of Clan Lavellan

Lucia Mairyn Evandra Cousland Marguerites "Rita" Hèloïse Caron Adelaide Elspeth Hawke Hissera "Tessa" Adaar Adralla "Aria" Anne Trevelyan Marzia Mercar

Alaric Theodemir Amell Syl'vhenan Andras Kirta Deka Kader Nikolas Kay Hawke-Amell Rihannon "Rynn" Shea Cadash Lorelei Surana

[templarstabler-blog]

DRAGON AGE CHARACTERS. HAND OVER HEART VERSE   →   ALESSA LAVELLAN.

31.   RIFT MAGE.   PANSEXUAL.   DALISH.   ROMANCED BLACKWALL & CADASH.

❝ we were never savages. all i wanted was to protect my family. ❞

APPRENTICED TO keeper deshanna from another clan at a young age, alessa grew up travelling the dales with her clan, and best friend, hael . both girls were cared for by the clan’s first, iona, and grew up with her son cian. she didn’t accompany hael to the conclave, instead scouting out the surrounding lands to find the safest path. when clan lavellan finds out hael and celebrian are at haven, alessa leaves immediately to make sure she’s actually okay, and that the shems aren’t lying. she informally joins the inquisition, and eventually her anti human / dwarf views soften when she develops feelings for both warden blackwall and mera cadash.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Crashing Fantasies

To face your fantasy falling as the harshness of the world hits you.

Naomahn Tabris, Aine Hawke, Davhalla Lavellan, Dahlila Mercer

Those We Care For

Having people in your life can inspire you to become better people yourself or to live life to the fullest you can.

Rosalind Amell, Lilith Hawke, Shok Addar, Branwen Ingellvar

Good Men Need No Rules

Anyone can believe their a good man, sometimes you have to learn to be one.

Folcher Aeducan, Archie Hawke, Lucas Cadhas, Reginald Thorne

To Be Kind

The strongest thing you can do after a life full of harm and hate is to be kind.

Caoimhe Tabris, Ivy Hawke, Revas Lavellan, Andy Laidir

To Love Yourself

Loving yourself despite all your flaws and what life has taught you is one of the hardest yet most rewarding things you can do.

Riley Cousland, Ivy Hawke, Harel Lavellan, Alondra de Riva

For Freedom’s Design

Some people yearn for the familiar and some fight for their freedom.

Cian Mahariel, Lorraine ‘Lorry’ Hawke, Mila Treveylan, Nadasa Aldwir

Mistakes Make Us People

When you make mistakes, you have to accept them and try to fix them. That's what makes you alive.

Thea Surana, Bernadette ‘Teddy’ Hawke, Ophelis Trevelyan

Faith Sustains

Having faith in something can drive you forward more then you originally thought possible

Brynja Brosca, Aisley Hawke, Charity Cadash

Uneasy Rests the Laurels

When you look around to see how far you come, are you happy with what you've done?

Lochlan Cousland, Simon Hawke, Edmund Trevelyan

With Bloody Hands

To get ahead, sometimes you have to stain your hands red.

Muirin Cousland, Willow Hawke, Gloria Treveylan

Revolution is not Kind

Sometimes the revolution is lead by the angry women not willing to back down

Runa Amell, Wyome Hawke, Abigail Treveylan

Anger Drives Us

Sometimes being angry at the world isn't useful. Other times it helps a lot.

Alanna Tabris, Diana Hawke, Tria Treveylan

[ma-sulevin]

why is this guy so cute?

[camorrsthorn]

Hi, I'm kinda new here, and so I mostly have just seen the art of your OCs? (Which is awesome, btw.) But I was wondering if you could give, like, a basic outline of who they are and maybe their universe? (Bc worldbuilding is ALWAYS cool.) Thanks! (And again, love your art

aaa thank you!! i have. a lot bear with me lmao but. i’m gonna put this under a cut because Oh Dang That’s Too Many

video game ocs: holy moley that’s a lot

tarris, relic, kharza gra-durza, serindil, riandil, vhesryn, saaji and zhakka are all from elder scrolls!! 

tarris is a bosmer thief/assassin who’s actually real bad at fighting and is probably half magpie, don’t wear jewelery near her she will Have It

relic is a bosmer vampire who is an asshole. he’s awful. he knows magic but mostly likes to Stab. he exists in the same world-state as tarris and kharza and probably a few others 

kharza is an orc warrior who’s like the only lawful good character i have, whoops. she sometimes turns into a werewolf and mauls people but that’s a minor character flaw. she’s a big gay

serindil is an altmer mage!! very very much a glass cannon. they were with the thalmor embassy in skyrim until they... sort of defected?? they’re still an ass tho

riandil is a bosmer scout!! he’s from eso so i’m not sure exactly how he fits into the world state, but he’s a big ball of sunshine. he likes very very bad puns and responding to altmer supremacy by acting real stupid until THEY look stupid. he’s great

vhesryn is a dunmer assassin but he’s also a big ol’ dick. he’s a vampire too but mostly a dick. his hobbies include being an asshole and stabbing people, also dancing

saaji is a khajiit thief and very pure good person. she;s good. she’ll steal your things but she’s good she’ll prolly give em back. really just wants a warm spot in the sun, very very tired of almer

zhakka is a redguard warrior and former pirate!! i love her. she scowls a lot and looks grumpy but she’s grinning inside just all the time. you know those people who say the most ridiculous funny shit with a totally stoic face?? that’s zhakka

spring and bishop are from fallout

spring washington is Soft. she’s a soft soft person. she likes plants and photography, but also she was her school’s boxing champion pre-war and won trophies for shooting, and likes to keep a switchblade on her at all times. met her husband when he had to drag her off some creep. she just wants to make the world a bit brighter!!

bishop is. bishop. he’s my courier and he’s??? the worst. he’s obnoxiously lucky and knows it, and very charming despite the amount of times he puts his foot directly in his mouth. he’s good at heart but also does what seems good/fun/cool at the time??? “hey bishop when is the last time you washed” “i dunno when did it last rain” “i don’t want to travel with you any more”

i have a whole lot of dragon age ocs bear with me

rasha tabris is Angry. i once described her as a wildfire in a very pretentious thing i didn’t post but it’s apt!! she stayed with the wardens because duncan was the reason she could kill vaughn, and the reason she wasn’t killed for it. she died fighting the archdemon because there was no way she was trusting some human, and died spitting and cursing

katia brosca’s main personality trait is Spite. people told her she could only be this this and this because casteless, so she did absolutely everything she could to prove them wrong. a lot of her loudness and bravado is a front to protect herself, but not all of it

hildr aeuducan’s middle name is duty. she does the job she’s got to do, and does it well. she doesn’t really Do sentiment?? and she’s never once but her own opinions over what’s best. she left behlen on the throne despite. everything

cian mahariel is Ridiculous. they spend half their time in trees despite having broken at least one bone on every part of their body falling out of them, and are Always Smiling

niketas surana lives on his nerves. his skills include flinching, stammering, going beet red if anybody looks at him for too long, and falling a little bit in love with anybody who’s nice to him. he’ll very very gladly swallow all his fear to protect people though, and repeatedly put himself between templars and scared younger mages while still in the tower. would die for jowan, frankly

vinnora lavellan is a sweetheart!! she just wants to be nice to everyone, and frankly deserves better than she got. she never wanted to be inquisitor, but figured she could at least use the position to help people who needed it, and tried to

noah shepard is my only real mass effect character worth talking about!! she’s a Delight and i love her. she’s paragon to her core, and goes out of her way to help people or offer a shoulder, but she’s absolutely not afraid to speak her mind or tell assholes to get fucked. she’s very very tired and full of guilt and regret. please let her sleep

d&d ocs!! are they ocs technically. i’m counting them i love them

dáithí lathlaeril is a half elven wild magic sorcerer and the only one i have actually played!! they’re half of a set of twins born to a high elven noblewoman and her human husband. they accidentally burned down their family library after overhearing their mother agree to essentially disinherit them, and have been an adventurer ever since. they have Lots of emotions always, and swing between “i’m inherently superior to all of you and also have cool magic” and “oh god i’m the worst i’m pathetic is my magic even good” and it’s terrible. please give them a hug. their name is pronounced DAH-hee

dáimhín lathlaeril is the other twin!! she left home to go be a bard but attracted an archfey with her singing, and wound up a warlock. still pretends to be a bard tho. she’s obnoxiously charming and knows it, and is WAY more relaxed and happy go lucky than their twin. she’s still pretty prissy tho. her name is pronounced like DAH-veen. also she’s not a girl, she’s nb!! like her twin. “finch that wouldn’t happen” haha what i can’t hear you

zeerith is a drow rogue!! he had just the worst life but is So Good at pretending he didn’t. what do you mean he’s almost certainly traumatised and emotionally messed up, he’s smiling, see?? trust him. he really really hates killing and would much rather talk his way out of trouble, but isn’t at all above hurting people to defend people?? also he’s very handsome and charming, focus on that. no don’t ask him if he’s ok. very very prone to talking someone to death if given half a chance

most of my actually original characters are from the same world!! it’s tag is “untitled a” because i don’t have a name for it yet lmao. there’s also a bunch of gods to go with these guys but i don’t even have names for them yet so lmao

fionn is prolly currently my most developed character from it. he’s an elf, which is fairly rare, and a magic user, which is rarer. he doesn’t care tho. he’s an ex-soldier who deserted after some very bad stuff happened, and he’s just trying to keep his head down. the god of luck and fate took a shine to him tho, so that’s not going too well. he uses his magic to make people think he’s much better at playing music than he is, but he could do Very cool things. he won’t tho

sabre is also an elf, but she’s a thief and very happy about it. she’s tiny and literally always ready to fight. she’ll fight anyone. she’ll Win against anyone. don’t fight sabre she jut doesn’t stop. she’s got a pretty strict Code tho, and won’t steal from anyone who can’t afford it, or fight anyone who can’t fight back. technically steals to give to the poor but also keeps a lot. she worked for that ill gotten gold!! she’s one of the two people who got “chosen” by the twin gods of the hunt, which she’s pretty stoked about. she’s got a tattoo honoring one of the twins

zarifa is the captain of an as-yet unnamed ship, and a totally legitimate merchant sailor. no pirates here absolutely not haha what’s that officer nope no illegitimate goods either, trust her. she’s got a good heart but also she’s pretty practical, and ensuring her own survival and the survival of her crew trumps morals every time. she’s the “chosen” of the god of the sea, which is an incredibly mixed bag

sylvie pike is zarifa’s first mate, but not nearly as professional. she likes to have fun, and insists on dragging zarifa with her. she’s got a much thicker accent than any other member of the crew, and makes it impenetrably thicker when she wants to be difficult. she’s not as good at overcoming her conscience as zarifa is

billie shaw is possibly my oldest current oc, holy shit. they’re kind of the odd job person aboard the ship, and also sing shanties and (badly) play the accordion. has a big big soft spot for kids. also hates shoes. what the fuck billie. put some boots on you ridiculous human being

sara tillman is possibly the only ordinary person on board the ship. she’s the ship’s doctor, despite being easily the youngest person aboard, and despite having only ever operated on her family’s farm prior to being hired. she’s got like ten siblings and loves all of them very very much

there’s also a handful of others from this universe who aren’t nearly as fleshed out yet, other than the gods, but they aren’t fleshed out!! “finch neither are any of the people you’ve talked about” [sweats]