#Dad Zevran

[heniareth]

ZevWarden Week 2023

Day 3: Fear and Safety

The Flight from Vigil's Keep

Wordcount: 3,440 | Rating: Teen and Up

In the middle of the night, Vigil's Keep is attacked. Zevran and Astala grab their children and flee.

WARNING FOR:

Children in danger (they don't come to harm, but they are in danger. The children are teenagers, 4-year.olds, and a baby)

Explosions

Fire

Fleeing from your home

Canon-typical violence

The attack is racially motivated, but this can be inferred and is not explicitly mentioned or discussed

(Read down below or here on AO3)

Zevran woke suddenly. It took him a moment to orient himself—a moment longer than he would have liked. Something was not right. One heartbeat, and the something not right became apparent.

Smoke.

Fire.

The smell was a mere whiff, but it was not where it should be. That alone made him leave the big, spatious, warm bed and Astala's side. She didn't stirr when he approached the window.

There. The orange glow of fire, inside the inner walls of Vigil's Keep. He opened the window. The smell of smoke grew stronger. Faintly, shouting reached his ear.

It was the unmistakable screaming and clashing of battle.

Zevran hadn't been party to many violent takeovers of a noble's property, but he had seen enough. He didn't bother closing the window. He hurried to Astala, and shook her awake.

"Amore!"

A grunt was his only answer.

"Amore," Zevran whispered, hurriedly. "Please. We need to leave."

Finally, his wife opened her eyes, blinking blearily.

"Whashappenin-?"

"We need to leave," Zevran repeated. He fished his belt with two of his daggers from the foot of the bed and wound it around his waist. "The Keep is under attack."

Astala sat up and looked at him, wide-eyed. "W-what?"

A loud bang, far too close by.

"Amore mio, please." Zevran took her hand. She allowed him to pull her out of bed. "We must be quick. We need to get the children and leave."

"The chil- Oh, Maker." A shudder ran through Astala, and suddenly she snapped into action. "We have to go!"

Zevran was right on her heels.

-

Eidela started crying when Zevran lifted her into Astala's arms. Her voice echoed through the empty hallway as they hurried to the rooms the rest of the children occupied, until Astala managed to shush her. It sent a sharp spike through Zevran's blood nonetheless. Barely an infant, and far too young to have to flee an invasion.

A low growl greeted them when they opened the door to their children's rooms. It took the old mabari a moment, but Rascal immediately backed down and started wagging his tail when he recognized them. Astala rushed in. Zevran looked around. The younger ones were fast asleep. The older ones, alertness sharpened by the streets of Antiva and the Crows, respectively, had already quietly started suiting up.

Virel and Carlo had pulled on their dark leathers. Perinella was nowhere to be seen. Virel was grim and decided, far from his usual sullen teenage mood. Carlo nervously played around with the pommel of his dagger.

Zevran gave them an approving nod. "Bravi."

Carlo smiled, unsure.

"Help your mother with your siblings," Zevran continued, addressing Carlo. "Get them out of bed and into warm clothes. Keep them close. You will be alright, I promise."

Carlo nodded. With a kiss to the forehead, Zevran let him go, and turned to his oldest.

"Open the passage," he said. "Where is Perinella?"

"Getting potions," Virel said. "She took Brigand."

"Very good. Get her first," Zevran instructed. "I will join you shortly."

Virel wanted to bolt off, but found time to roll his eyes when Zevran held him back and kissed his forehead as well.

"Andaos con cuidado, ¿eh?"

"Sí, padre," Virel muttered. Then he left as well.

Zevran turned and found the twins awake and scrambling out of their beds, eyes big and frightened like Carlo's as he helped them into their boots and coats. No protests came from either if them.

Eidela was crying again, and wouldn't let Astala tie her to her chest. Zevran held the fabric Astala was struggling with in place.

"Maybe I should carry her."

"No," Astala said. "We need you. I can't fight."

"I hope it will not come to fighting," Zevran replied.

"Still." Astala turned her head as he stepped behind her and tied the sling keeping Eidela in place. "Not taking chances."

Zevran glanced at her, at their four youngest, thought of Virel and Perinella out in the hallways with nothing but a dog to watch over them.

"I am yours," was the only answer that came to him.

-

After a quick stop at their own quarters to suit up, they joined Virel and Perinella up the hallway. Health potions were distributed. Astolfo and Rinona were instructed to hold Astala's hand and not let go. Zevran took Perinella with him to the front of the group, to light their way. Virel closed their march. Quietly, they descended the old servants' passageway.

Their walk was careful. Tense.

"I wish I knew where the Wardens are," Astala said at one point.

"Fighting, most likely," Zevran answered, then smiled wrily to himself. "This invasion is a slight their commander will not forgive lightly, I think."

He caught the beginning of Astala's chuckle when an explosion detonated somewhere far too close by. The whole stairway trembled. Zevran pulled Perinella closer to himself and back towards Astala. Brigand let out a whine of alarm. The explosion ran like thunder through the stairway and then it was silent.

Zevran looked back at his family to find them all unharmed, albeit shaken.

"One of Dvorkin's, probably," Astala said, and ran her free hand over Astolfo's hair.

"I suppose it is good to know that he is up and about," Zevran answered, trying to lighten the situation while fear coiled around his belly like a snake.

A scoff, and then Astala started: "Not if... well."

She didn't finish the sentence, but Zevran knew what she had wanted to say.

-

The staircase ended in a long, narrow hallway leading straight to the kitchen. The fighting was loud here. Screams, the clash of metal, explosions and the roar of flames filled the narrow corridor, muffled by the thick wall of stone. Zevran picked Astolfo up, Astala carried Rinona on her back. And then they ran. Astolfo was scared. He clung to him with all the strength the arms of a 4-year-old could have and hid his face in the crook of Zevran's neck. Zevran held him tight. Behind him, amidst the ring of battle, he caught snippets of Astala trying to keep Rinona calm. The light at the top of Perinella's staff bathed everything in cold, flickering light.

A torch, a person! Zevran brought them all to a halt as Perinella's barrier flared to life. Brigand and Rascal barked and growled.

"Who goes there?" Astala's sharp voice cut through the din of battle.

"Arlessa!"

The voice belonged to old Gemet, who had been working at the Vigil from before Astala had replaced arl Rendon Howe. Zevran nonetheless set Astolfo down and quietly unsheathed his daggers. Next to him, Perinella stood, tensely waiting.

"They sent me out to find you," Gemet called over the ring of battle, and then they all flinched and cowered as another explosion shook the walls of the narrow corridor. Eidela was screaming now, and Zevran felt Astolfo's hands balled into the fabric of his trousers.

"We cannot stay here," Zevran called out. "Gemet, move back. We will follow."

"Right away!"

The torch and the dark silhouette of Gemet made their way back down the corridor again.

-

The corridor led to the kitchens, which in turn led to the servants’ quarters. A good fraction of their fellow elves, all occupying different service positions until now, jumped to their feet. The relief flooding the room upon seeing the Hero of Ferelden was palpable. Astala stood a little straighter and stepped forward.

“They are in the Great Hall,” one of these scared people informed her.

“They will come down here any moment,” another said.

From above, a great crash was heard. Astala turned only briefly.

“Carry your small children and make for the outer service door,” she said. “We will ferry people down a few at a time.”

Another crash, and shouting.

“They’re breaking in!” a young girl screamed.

“Keep calm!” Astala commanded. “Move, towards the service door.”

Zevran handed Astolfo to Virel. The little boy clung to his older brother. Zevran held four of the elves back; they were strong, showed less fear than the rest of the people, and were unmarried.

“Stay behind with me,” he asked. “We will build some traps to greet them with.”

Astala stopped, and turned around. For the first time this night, fear crept over his Warden's face.

"You're not gonna stay here alone!" she called, disbelieving.

"Not alone!" Zevran gestured at the four other elves. He knew perfectly well Astala would regard them as insufficient help, and rightfully so, but...

"You can't stay!" Astala walked up to him with long steps, and Rinona had to run to keep pace with her. "Zevran! Those people-"

"I will be alright," Zevran tried.

"They will kill you!" Fear gave way to panic, gave way to wild determination. "I'm not leaving you alone!"

"Amore." Zevran reached out and held the hand with which she was holding Rinona. "Please. There is no time. Keep them safe; I-"

"I will stay."

Virel stood next to Astala.

"No!" Astala cried.

"Go with your brother," Zevran said. "Keep him safe. That is all I ask of you."

"But I-"

"No!"

Zevran immediately regretted his outburst. Virel flinched backwards. The noise was getting closer. They had no time. Zevran turned to Astala again. Her hand trembled; her eyes were wide. Mutely, she shook her head.

"I will do everything I can to return to you," Zevran said and cupped her cheek. "Go, my Warden.

"Please-" Astala whispered.

A loud bang. Screams. Eidela cried.

Astala stepped back. She, too, was crying.

"I love you," Zevran said.

Astala's answer was drowned out by another explosion that shook the walls. Then she turned and hurried down the hallway with their children as fast as her old injury would allow. Already, she was heavily favoring her right leg. She would be in a great deal of pain tomorrow. If she made it out alive.

Virel was leading Astolfo again, and didn't look back. It was Rinona who turned.

"Papa?"

"He needs a moment," he heard Astala say. "He'll be right behind us, just you see."

Then they disappeared around the corner. And Zevran, Crow that he was in his heart of hearts, closed his heart and his ears to the increasingly panicked calls of his daughter.

-

They grabbed what food they could easily carry. They ripped open a sack of flour so that the air turned dusty white, dumped oil over the floor, set a pot with hot coals over one door and a washbasin full of knives over another.

Voices approached, steps and the clanking of armor. While his four helpers ran for the exit, Zevran stayed by the third and last door and waited, a fire grenade in hand. Something heavy banged against the door. The wood splintered. Then it burst. Zevran stepped into the room. Men, humans with armor and weapons bloodied, poured into the kitchen, bloodlust in their voices. Zevran blew a kiss onto the glass vial that held the grenade and threw it into the kitchen, into their midst, turned and ran. The flour caught fire. The room exploded. The blast sent Zevran stumbling briefly, and then he ran. Screams, heat and a sense of burning satisfaction accompanied him as he rejoined his fellow trap-layers. They barricaded the door and hurried to join the larger group.

-

They did not take the path that was used to ferry goods up the steep incline that led up to the Keep. Instead, they made through the dark and gnarly forest with its dense undergrowth that covered the rest of the landscape. They hurried through, leaves and branches catching on their clothing. Zevran, in his comparatively tougher leather, led the way.

They found their people halfway to the river, gathered at the edge of a small clearing. A few figures rushed to put themselves between the group and them as they approached, but stood down as soon as they called out to them. There was a commotion at the back of the group. Zevran stepped out of the forest, only to have Rinona crash into him at full speed. Astolfo joined soon afterwards. Rinona was crying, big ugly tears. Astolfo wouldn't let him go. Zevran let them and hugged them tightly in return.

A weight fell onto his shoulders: Carlo. Somebody told him to move, to not squash Zevran, to give him some space: Virel. Somebody stepped behind Carlo when he didn't leave: Perinella. Zevran told them to let the boy be, even if his knees and thighs were starting to strain under the combined weight.

A shadow fell over him, a hand fell to his shoulder, and by touch alone he recognized his Warden. Astala said nothing. Zevran hugged Astolfo and Rinona with one arm and held Astala's hand.

-

They made their way to the river Hafter and along it, this small refugee group of theirs. Laseth, one of the head servants, who had spent some time with a Dalish clan before she had decided that their life was not for her, led them through the dark. It was a cold night. The heavy cloud cover allowed for almost no light, but thankfully kept the rain it carried to itself. Beside the quiet din of conversations and steps, there was no sound to be heard. The burning Vigil’s Keep grew smaller and smaller, until it vanished into the darkness.

Zevran was carrying Rinona. When his daughter shivered, he wrapped the edge of his cloak around her. Carlo walked next to him, occasionally bumping into him when he misstepped. Perinella was in front of them; she had offered to carry Astolfo on her back. Virel was behind them, silent. Astala walked next to him, Eidela on her back now, and heavily limping.

Her children and these people were still looking to her for guidance.

Zevran saw how tired she was.

They were all exhausted.

He approached Laseth with the suggestion to make camp as soon as they reached a patch of land with a sufficiently big grove of trees. Laseth selected an appropriate spot and set them to work. They built four tent-shaped shelters covered with leaves and ferns to ward against the worst of the chill. What clothes they had on their bodies and the shared body warmth would have to do the rest. There would be no fire. They were still too close to the keep. Zevran and his fellow trap-layers distributed what food they had managed to take with them. Then everybody went to sleep.

Neither Eidela nor Rinona woke up when they were set down; a small blessing. Astolfo fell asleep shortly afterwards, curled up in Zevran’s lap. Virel, Perinella and Carlo did not lie down right away. They sat close to them; grim faces, wide eyes, but unharmed. Alive.

For a while, nobody said anything.

“I’m sorry." Astala quietly broke the silence. “I’m so sorry. This was never supposed to happen. I didn’t want you to have to fight ever again.”

Perinella raised an eyebrow. “But we did not fight. You sent us away.”

“We never wanted you to be in a fight again, then,” Zevran suggested.

Astala nodded. “I’m so sorry. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Virel and Perinella exchanged glances. Carlo looked like he wanted to say something, but then he just curled up on Astala’s free side, mirroring Astolfo, and went to sleep.

Silence fell back over their group again.

This time, it was Virel who broke it; he was looking at Zevran when he did so. “Why did you not want me to fight?”

Ah. Zevran should’ve known. The Crows’ talons didn't let go easily.

He glanced at Astala.

“Because parents keep their children safe whenever they can," Astala answered in his state. “They care for them, and do not want them to be hurt. Fighting is a very easy way to get hurt.”

“But you train us to fight,” Virel answered, still looking at Zevran. “Why?”

“Because,” Zevran answered this time, choosing his words wisely, “we want you to be able to defend yourselves once you are adults, or if neither your mother nor I are there. Not being able to fight is also a very good way to get hurt.”

For a while, Virel stared off into the darkness. Perinella followed the conversation in silence, with big, serious eyes.

“I am grown,” Virel then said. “Old enough to have been a Crow for years.”

“Yes,” Zevran agreed. “And this is why Crow masters do not make good parents.”

Virel smiled at that, and Zevran did too in a quick, rare moment of shared understanding. Perinella leaned against Astala's free side.

“I want you to know that what your mother said is true,” Zevran continued. “If we could, we would make it so that you never had to fight and never got hurt.”

Virel looked up at him.

“Alas, it is impossible,” Zevran said lightly. “So we do the next best thing: arm you with a blade and knowledge and step between you and any enemies whenever we can, ah?”

Virel smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Of course, this is not to say that I do not try my very best to return safely,” Zevran continued. “My Warden would never forgive me if I died—"

"True," Astala said quietly.

"—and even if I am a terrible spoilsport who will not let you fight, I hope I-”

He didn’t get further. Virel bumped his shoulder into him, lightly, in a move that surprised Zevran. He was ready to laugh and tentatively push back. But there were confounded emotions darkening his son’s face once more as he leaned away from him again. Zevran stayed still.

“Virel,” Astala said again, gently. “What is it?”

It took Virel some time to speak. Finally, without looking at Zevran, he strung the words together.

“If you had not returned?”

Zevran’s heart lurched slightly within his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Astala tense.

“It would not have been what I wanted at all,” Zevran began, slowly. “I would have… I would have been very sorry to leave you behind. I would have wanted it to be different, although knowing you safe would have been a comfort. We make choices. We do not know how they will turn out. We try our best and take risks. You would have done the same for Perinella.” Virel nodded quietly.

“Then you know why I did not want you to be there,” Zevran continued. “Your help would have been very welcome, and your readiness to jump into danger speaks to your courage. But that risk was not one I wanted you to take. I apologize if I have overstepped. But I wanted you safe.”

For a while, Virel said nothing. The silence stretched on for so long that Zevran was beginning to fear he might have said entirely the wrong thing, and that Virel was now angry. He waited. And waited.

Finally, Virel moved. Slowly, unexpectedly, carefully, as if testing the waters, he leaned into him, wrapped his arms around him and rested his head against his shoulder. Zevran hesitated for one moment, then carefully hugged him back.

-

They broke their little round up, set Astolfo next to Rinona. Virel and Perinella preferred to sleep to one side. Astala advised them to keep close enough to catch at least some body warmth and tried to get them to accept her cloak. They refused, arguing that they had their own. Astala had to let it be in the end.

As Zevran lay down next to her, she turned to him and pulled him close.

“Thank you,” she whispered quietly into his leather. “Thank you for keeping us safe.”

"You were not pleased," Zevran said.

Astala snorted. "Of course not."

Zevran nodded. Of course she was not pleased.

"I hate it," Astala said quietly. "I hate it so much. I was so scared."

"I am sorry," Zevran said.

Astala leaned back to look him in the eyes. "Don't do that again."

"Amore-"

"I know that- that you had to." She was trying so hard to keep her voice in check, Zevran knew. "I don't care. Don't do that again. Think of Virel. He needs you, Zevran, they all need you. Don't leave them."

The words stung. Zevran savored it.

"And you, my Warden?" he asked quietly.

"Of course I need you," Astala said. And then her voice finally broke. "Please, don't go. Please!"

"I am not planning to," Zevran said, with perhaps a little more edge than he intended.

"I know." Astala wiped her eyes. "I know, I know. I'm being unfair. I'm sorry."

Zevran sighed and kissed her forehead. “I could not bear to lose you, my Warden. You know that.”

“I do,” she nodded. “Thank you for making it back in one piece.”

“I am yours,” he answered. And, teasing, he added, “Yours entirely. How could I deprive you of even one part of me? Imagine me without hair.”

Astala let out an undignified snort and muffled her laugh against his chest. The laugh ended in a sniffle. Zevran held her close.

"How is your hip?"

"Bad," Astala said. "I will manage."

"I will help, if you will let me," Zevran said.

"Thank you."

Astala nuzzled closer and sighed against his skin. Her breath slowly evened out. Her weight grew heavier. Zevran closed his eyes, breathed deeply and thanked the Maker for keeping them safe and whole.

-

These two are a seasoned battle couple, but separate them and hoooooooooooo the anxiety skyrockets.

It's not clear who attacked the Keep (which means I haven't figured it out yet). Maybe she'll never know. Fact is, the crown doesn't do anything much, and she goes to Antiva with the whole family and settles down there for a peaceful live. Until the qunari arrive (looks at DA4 with suspicion)

I hope you enjoyed this one, and thank you to @zevraholics for organizing this event!!

[kiivg]

.Tip: always kiss your LI after big boss fights to receive HP boosts.

[circtheeunbroken]

he's beauty he's grace (he's plotting tax evasion, according to my best friend)

[chimeowrical]

The ugly sweaters are a FAMILY AFFAIR now

[maiwong1]

I just wanna dilf!zevran ok??dad!zevran I wanna see

[a-drama-addict]

^ literally Vittoria Aeducan Arainai. she can do whatever the fuck she wants

[makerscockandballs]

"no mage I know has ever dared to fall in love" anders my sweet boy did you forget about Surana/Amell this quickly? smh

[periwinkle-warden]

So many people making their zevwarden children their rook while I already made their adopted daughter a red jenny instead of any of the offered factions😔

[bunbunsama]

Zev & Sili having a silent bet on who their daughter is going to end up with cause they know the signs - they’ve been the signs - & nothing brings a meant to be couple like saving the world.

Zevran bets on good’ole Antivan charm. Worked on Sili, though she disagrees, & the mysterious air of an assassin, especially such a notorious one, is far too alluring. Plus, he knows that Nasi, like her mother, is fond of spirits so hes confident that it’s a bonus, not a turn off. He sees how Nasi & Lucanis are, how she always has the same aura of comfort, of pure sunlight, when she talks to him. He sees his daughter soften, how she makes every move deliberate & hard to miss as to not startle the Dellamorte. Zevran knows what that’s like, knows how it crumbles the defenses, & it shows in how Lucanis seems to, maybe unknowingly, watch Nasi somewhat protectively, eyeing danger before it can even think to come at her.

Sili bets on Warden heroism & reunited childhood friends. Nasi was raised by Grey Wardens, learned to fight with Grey Wardens, & laughed with Grey Wardens. The Grey Wardens are her family, by blood & blight, & there’s a distinct charm about them. Davrin knows her like the back of his hand, knows just to challenge & grow with her; reminds her to touch grass & to breath. Davrin laughs as he notices that Nasi still had the same blind spot, notices because he’s already there, shield up to protect her. He pokes fun at her by calling her out when something goes missing, when she’s lurking in the shadows of the Fade & he isn’t a mage but he knows her tricks like the back of his hand. Sili is confident that if Nasi is like her, the Grey Warden will come first.

They both miss that she is a lot like her mother in that it’s the academic that gets her attention first - Emmrich Volkarin. The man who’s out together at every moment shared with Nasi, professional or otherwise; who is able to worm out of her a more inquisitive & academic side as they discuss the intricacies of spirit augmented magical abilities which both are keenly aware of. He charms her in a way that is polite & quiet, the soft touch reciprocated as he guides her with a hand on the small of her back as they traverse Arlathan, or when he offers her a hand every time she stops to loot a chest or body. The parents miss how animated he becomes when Nasi & him talk, how easy conversation comes to them & how her smile beams as they converse.

The mage academic ruins the bet & when Zevran tells Bel, the Inquisitor & Nas’revas’ bio dad, about it the man laughs so loud it’s a wonder Morrigan can keep him hidden. He brushes tears from his eyes as he smiles back at his ex-wife’s paramour and simply says, “That’s how I won Sil’lean’s heart when we were young in Kinloch Hold. I was the academic & she the young girl who’d seen the world.”

[astrxealis]

me rn having the biggest hots for leon kennedy and astarion sorry LMFAOOO <3

[heniareth]

ZevWarden Week 2023

Day 1: Traditions and Trying New Things

The Naming Day

Wordcount: 3,469 | Rating: General audiences

Zevran and Astala Tabris have adopted three Antivan kids; two of them are former Crow recruits. None of them have ever celebrated their Naming Day.

(Read below or here on AO3)

The day he had arrived at Vigil’s Keep with the three Antivan kids had been a cold and rainy day in the middle of Drakonis. Carlo had been asleep and wouldn’t let himself be woken up. Virel and Perinella had also been exhausted. Their flight from Antiva and from the Crows had taken a lot out of them, and they had gone straight to bed after they’d gotten some food. Zevran was happy to see them safe, happy to know them well-cared for, and sad to have to leave the next day. His safehouse back in Antiva seemed cold and empty when he re-entered it and none of the three children were there. Updates from the Vigil became the highlight of the week; apparently the keep’s humble appointments had been a source of disappointment especially for Perinella—and she was right, for Fereldan nobility had nothing against even the Antivan merchants—and the children treated their new surroundings with the utmost suspicion. Smart, Zevran had thought. But at the same time, he wished they would soon realize they were safe there. Safe like he had been. Astala told him about how the children, sticking together, the only Antivans in a large, unknown fortress, had explored the grounds bit by bit. They had grown bolder as the days passed. Zevran fondly remembered opening a letter from his Warden and discovering in it a rather rattled account of how the children had discovered the kitchens and stolen fifteen of her beloved plum-filled pastries.

Of course, there had been setbacks. Virel still hardly initiated conversations with strangers. Carlo had taken to breaking things to get hugs after having been comforted over accidentally spilling the contents of an inkwell. And Perinella had broken into Anders’ collection of manuals on blood magic more than once. Fortunately, Velanna had been able to prevent any demonic possession of the girl. For now. But Zevran couldn’t quite bring himself to fault any of them for their behavior. The streets of Antiva had not been kind to Carlo, and Virel and Perinella had been left to fend for themselves under the Crows after their own parents had sold them. Really, given the circumstances, they were doing very well.

Zevran only hoped that today would not be another setback or give Perinella the wrong ideas. It was her naming day, after all.

Zevran quietly observed how Perinella, paper in hand, Virel in tow, and a big stack of gifts still in their wrapping balancing in her arms slowly made her way up the narrow steps to the rookery. Maybe it had been a mistake to leave this gift as one of the last. Where would she set down the rest? The air around Perinella was shifting ever so slightly, which tended to happen when she let her otherwise meticulous control over her magic slip. This could be very good, or it could be very bad. Zevran suppressed the urge to shift anxiously in his space. It would be better if neither of them was made aware of his presence. Otherwise, Virel would start to scowl again. The boy still did not trust him, former Crows that he was.

If only he could get some kind of clue as to whether this had been a good idea.

-

The children had no actual naming day. Astala had discovered this over dinner one day when she had asked for it and had only received blank stares and confused looks in return. Zevran had jumped in to the rescue; the Crows, after all, were not ones to celebrate an individual’s continued survival, and neither were the streets of Antiva. Astala had turned to him, confused.

“So you don’t know when you were named either? I thought you told me your naming day was on the 7th of Bloomingtide!”

“And so it is! Technically,” Zevran had answered. “There were far too many children at the whorehouse to keep track of, so there was one day where all of us would celebrate our naming day. Everyone got their due without too much hassle.”

Astala made a face to herself that indicated just how unimpressed she was by this. Then she mercifully turned to the children.

“And you gotta have a naming day, because you have a name,” she said. “You don’t remember it at all?”

Perinella, normally the most forward, had said nothing and only glanced at her brother. Virel had silently poked his dinner. Carlo had looked around the table, and then had carefully set his spoon down.

“What is this?” he had signed.

“A naming day?” Once Carlo had confirmed this was what he was asking, Astala had sat back and contemplated the question. “A naming day is the day you were named, normally a year and a day after you are born. Every year on that day, there's a small celebration to conmemorate the fact that you're alive. You usually receive some gifts from friends and family-"

At that, Perinella had perked up.

"-and people wish you well for the coming year of your life," Astala had concluded. "I have a naming day, my cousins Soris and Shianni have one, even my Da has one. So, if you don't know yours: would you like one?"

Carlo had indeed wanted one. Tomorrow, had been his first idea. Once Astala had explained that it would make for a very poor and underprepared naming day indeed, he had settled on the 8th of Cloudreach, with the reasoning that Cloudreach sounded nice and 8 was his favorite number. Astala had called it good. Perinella had dithered to and fro, and glanced intermittently at Virel, who was still staring at his stew like it had personally offended him—and this even though Astala had managed to find a decent cook even by Antivan standards. Finally, Perinella had decided to take Astala up on the offer as well and had settled on the date of their arrival at Vigil's Keep. Zevran had a strong feeling that this choice was less of a celebration of their arrival in Antiva and more because the date was an easy option. Virel had only stoically shaken his head when asked.

-

One exact year after their arrival at Vigil's Keep, Zevran was hiding and observing the rookery into which Perinella and Virel had disappeared.

For a long while, there was nothing. Zevran was starting to get nervous.

It had been his idea to turn the giving of gifts into a treasure hunt of sorts. None of the- their three children liked the attention of crowds, and to assemble every well-wisher and gift-giver in one room to assault them seemed like the perfect way to make them hate the whole idea. But sneaking and exploring? They liked it. They were good at it. They did it often. And so Zevran had suggested everybody hide their gifts together with a clue to the next hiding spot. They would have liked to try it out on Carlo first, easily enthused and more easy to read than the older two; alas, Cloudreach came right after Drakonis. It should go over well enough with Perinella—she was an inquisitive sort—if she found all her gifts. And if the gifts were to her liking. And if she understood that they were, in fact, gifts, intended for her to keep with no strings attached. Ah, the Crows had a way of ruining everything good for oneself. But Velanna’s gift, which was the one hidden in the rookery, should really-

There was a flash of light, and a small squeak. Zevran jumped up, ready to run towards the rookery should his help be needed, but everything was quiet now. Should he barge in? Virel and Perinella did not trust him. But what if they needed help? Braska, he had to do something. Zevran whirled around, intent on taking the steps down to the corridor leading to the rookery two or three at a time, and promptly bumped into another small person.

“Surprised!” he signed once he recognized the boy. “Bravo.”

Carlo grinned widely. He had evidently snuck up on him on purpose.

“Is everything ready?” Zevran asked, now whispering.

Carlo nodded, long bangs flying all over his face. He still hadn’t allowed Astala to give him a haircut.

“Very good,” Zevran said and tousled Carlo’s hair further.

The boy giggled.

“Could we change our plan?” Zevran asked with a glance towards the rookery. “I would like to ask for a favor. You may say no.”

Carlo frowned, evidently not happy with the question. But he also tilted his head to the side in an unspoken question.

“Instead of waiting for Virel and Perinella to come down, could you go to them now?” Zevran elaborated. “There was a flash and a sound. I would like you to see if they are alright, if you could.”

Carlo pointed over at the rookery.

“Yes,” Zevran nodded. “They are in there.”

Carlo made the sign for danger.

“I do not think you will be in danger, no,” Zevran said immediately. And then he thought, why was he asking the kid to check on Virel and Perinella anyways?

Before he could develop that thought further, Carlo shook his head and made the sign of danger again, then signed Virel’s name, then Perinella’s.

“They…” Zevran hesitated. “No. No, I do not think they are in danger.”

Because what dangers could await them in the rookery of Vigil’s Keep, of all places? Perinella's magic had been a bit out of control already, and now that he thought of it, the squeal had sounded more excited than anything. Ah, nagale! He was making a fool of himself again.

“I- Look, maybe there is no need to go after all,” Zevran said. “So you-”

But Carlo was starting to look frustrated as he signed ‘danger’ again, then Virel’s name, then Perinella’s. Zevran frowned. What was the boy trying to tell him?

“I… do not think they will search for trouble either,” he tried.

Carlo shook his head again, big eyes pleading Zevran to understand.

“They… are a danger?” Zevran guessed.

Again, Carlo shook his head.

“I am very sorry,” Zevran said and suppressed a small sigh. “I do not understand.”

Carlo repeated his signs, now looking truly distressed.

“Carlo, mijo, please.” Zevran knelt so he was eye to eye with Carlo. “I do not understand, but I no longer think there is a need to check on Virel and Perinella. What if we stick to the original plan, hm? Would that be better?”

Carlo repeated his signs.

“Alright,” Zevran said. “What are you telling me? Are you saying something is happening?”

Carlo shook his head.

Zevran tried again. “Are you asking me a question?”

There, finally, Carlo nodded.

“Ah, very well,” Zevran said. “And you are not asking-”

The door to the rookery flew open. Perinella marched out, her stack of gifts grown by one and wobbling precariously. Virel followed. They seemed no worse for wear than when they entered. Carlo's head snapped around, wide eyes landing on them. He urgently tugged on Zevran’s sleeve, and this time Zevran understood without issue. They ran off, to the small dining room where the five of them took their meals, where Astala was already waiting.

-

They arrived out of breath, but Perinella was nowhere to be seen. Astala set aside her work immediately and heaved herself up with the help of her cane.

“What happened?”

“Nothing of note,” Zevran was quick to assure her. “Carlo and I missed out cue, that is all.”

Carlo pulled out three more packages from behind the cupboard and laid them on the table. Zevran recognized his gift for Perinella among them. Then he pulled on Astala’s sleeve and started signing, the same signs he had said to Zevran.

“Carlo has a question,” Zevran tried to help.

“A question?” Astala sat back down. “What are you asking? If Virel and Perinella are in danger?”

Carlo shook his head, then pointed at himself and gave a big shrug.

“You don’t know?” Astala said. “What don’t you know?”

Carlo signed ‘Virel’, ‘Perinella’, ‘danger’, and then pointed at himself.

“You? When Virel and Perinella are in danger?” Astala asked.

Carlo nodded emphatically and pointed at himself again.

“What you can do?” Astala said.

Carlo nodded so enthusiastically that his whole body folded at the waist under the motion, and Zevran wanted to clap his hand against his forehead. Of course.

“Well,” Astala answered very seriously, “I think the best thing you can do is get help. From me or Zevran, or from any other adult around. We don’t want you to get hurt, after all.”

Carlo nodded firmly.

“Are Virel and Perinella in danger now?” Astala asked.

Carlo shook his head, then shrugged, then looked at Zevran.

“There was a flash and a noise,” Zevran said. “I forgot it sometimes happens with Perinella and I... may have let my worry carry me away.”

“Oh. Alright. That reminds me,” Astala continued, addressing them both and clasping her hands together, “how did it go? Did she find everything? Did they see you?”

Carlo proudly shook his head, and Zevran added: “I think Perinella did find everything. They have sharp eyes, but after discovering the first gifts, those eyes were very much consumed with their search."

"Good. Good." Astala turned to the decked-out table and tucked a flower deeper into the vase standing in front of Perinella's plate. "D'you think she'll like them?"

She looked at Carlo. Carlo gave a cheerful nod and then scrambled off to inspect the plates laden with food closer. Astala turned to Zevran with the same questioning glance.

"I think she will like them," Zevran said. "They are big, and colorful, and look expensive. She loves those things."

"She does." Astala smiled and turned to him. "And you think she liked the whole affair?"

"So many questions," Zevran said and laughed. "Are you worried, my Warden?"

"They're reasonable!" Astala protested before her single-minded focus returned. "So, did Perinella like it?"

"Ah, I was a far-away observer, amore," Zevran teased her. "Why do we not wait until she arrives to see?"

Astala scoffed. "I've been in here the whole time, Zevran! Just tell me!"

"Why so impatient, my Warden?" Zevran said and laughed. "Such a mother hen you are at times."

"It's her first naming day," Astala said miserably. Her eyes turned big and round. "Please, Zevran? Just give me a hint."

Ah. He wanted to continue the ruse. It was far too satisfying after his own worrying and rumiating. But those big, pleading eyes...

Loud, labored steps up the stairs saved him from squirming any further. Zevran opened the door. Perinella, hidden behind her stack of gifts, still with Virel in tow, was making her way up the stairs almost blind.

"Ah, donna Perinella," Zevran dramatically declared and took one step towards her. "May I help you with that?"

Something between a huff and a giggle came out from behind the stack of packages. "No!"

"As you wish." Zevran bowed just as dramatically and then smoothly stepped back and away from the door entirely as she sailed into the room.

Perinella marched across the room and sat her heap of gifts down on the bench that ran along the wall. Then, very carefully, she sat a fat envelope on top of it. Those had to be the well-wishes. She had collected them.

"Was it fun?" Astala asked.

Perinella nodded and replied in careful Fereldan: "I founded everything."

"I'm glad to hear it," Astala said with a wide smile. "It would be such a shame if you missed any of them."

"I do believe, however," Zevran said, "that there are more gifts to hand out."

And he pulled his packed gift out from behind his back.

Carlo, however, was faster. He all but shoved his gift into Perinella's hands and waited impatiently for her to open it. The dragon, princess and knight puppets he had chosen for her—with Astala's help—were met with shining eyes. Especially the princesses’ fine gown drew her attention. Virel was next. He very seriously handed Perinella his gift, a belt made to hold several potion vials. It was received just as seriously; one more attempt from an older brother to keep his little sister safe.

And then it was his turn. Zevran stepped forward and handed Perinella his gift. As she was opening it, he stepped backwards, keeping himself further than an arm's length away and watching the paper rather than Perinella. She carefully peeled the wrapping off and pulled out a fine cloak.

It was a Fereldan cloak, but it had been retrofitted and altered to bear stitching local to Antiva. They were beautiful, colorful, and they looked expensive. Rich wreaths climbed up the seams, small stars climbed up the backside. The inside of the cloak was lined with pelt. A clasp in the style of an Antivan sun held it close. Zevran held his breath. Perinella shook it out and held it up, face serious, but her eyes had widened. And it didn’t look like fear or anything of the sort.

"Your own coat looked so sad," Zevran said quietly, repeating the words he had often heard from her. "I hope this one will keep you warm and also make you feel like a lady of high standing."

Perinella looked at the cloak and said nothing.

“Would you like to try it on?” Astala asked gently.

At a nod from Perinella, Astala asked for the cloak so she could swing it over her shoulder. Perinella turned this way and that, tugged the cape closer and ran her hand along the fine pelt on the inside. Then she left the room after asking if she might look at herself in a mirror. Astala was quick to answer, of course she could! Zevran noticed Virel’s gaze resting on him; heavy, as always, and scrutinizing.

Perinella returned, and a complicated expression lay on her face. She immediately went to Zevran.

“La ringrazio,” she said.

Zevran couldn’t help the shiver running down his spine at the expression.

“Now, now,” he said, attempting a joke. “Am I an old man that you must speak so formally with me?”

Perinella frowned slightly, and Zevran decided then and there it was best to drop the matter.

“Ah, don’t mind me,” he said with a small smile. “You are doing well. Di niente, Perinella. Ti voglio bene.”

Something fluttered across Perinella’s expression, there and gone. Then she stepped back and Zevran forced his treacherous mind to put the matter to rest.

Astala’s gift came last. Perinella pulled it out of the wrapping and held it in her hands, confused; it was an old stuffed mabari, recently cleaned and mended.

“This,” Astala said, “was mine when I was little. I gave it to my cousin Shianni when I didn’t need it anymore. Shianni now let me give it to you. His name is Fen, but you can give him a different name if you want to. He’s a very, very good sleeping companion.”

Perinella slowly folded her arms around the stuffed mabari and held him to her chest.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Nella,” Astala said with a big smile and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m happy you like it.”

-

They ate, drank, and Perinella finally allowed them to help her ferry the rest of the gifts into the rooms she shared with Carlo and Virel. The night grew late, but even so Astala checked in one last time with the children before going to sleep. Zevran waited for her in the hallway. Outside, the rain pattered against the windows.

He almost didn’t hear Astala’s quiet call for him. He only approached carefully; the children didn’t trust him. He would rather spare them the scare of seeing him peek into their room while they were supposedly sleeping. When he saw what Astala had called him over for, however, he was glad to have looked.

Perinella was lying in her bed, asleep. In her arms, pressed against her face, were the stuffed mabari Fen and the Fereldan cloak with the Antivan stitching.

Zevran smiled as something loosened within his chest and something else tightened in his throat.

She liked it.

-

By the end of the month, Perinella had asked to continue this tradition of the naming day, Carlo had asked every day if his had arrived yet, and Virel had chosen the 9th of Kingsway for his very own naming day. Astala was excited. Perinella wore her cloak, which she did until the weather got far too hot to wear it anymore. Then it was hung up in her wardrobe, right at the front, in its own place of honor. It made Zevran smile more than a single thing—except, of course, for his Warden—had ever made him smile.

-

A couple notes before you leave because I cannot not talk about this story XD XD XD

First of all, I'm by no means an Italian speaker. I do hope what I cobbled together is more or less correct ^^' Here's the translation: - La ringrazio: formal way to say "thank you" - Di niente: "You are welcome"; "It is nothing" -Ti voglio bene: "I love you" (Am I cobbling together Italian and Mexican Spanish and the fantasy swearwords Zevran uses for Antivan? Yes I am)

Second, I love these kids so much omg. Carlo is about 8 here, Perinella 10, probably, and Virel 12-ish? It's hard to tell. They don't know for certain how old they are. Carlo is nonverbal, and has picked up a few very limited signs. Astala, mostly, is currently trying to get them both to learn more, but Carlo has never spoken. Turning his thoughts into word, even if they're not spoken words, is hard for him. Again, I have no personal experience with this. I have done and am in the process of doing my research, but if anything catches your attention that could be done better, please let me know.

The idea for this fic, as well as the idea of Carlo starting to break things in order to get hugs was developed alongside bumbleRhizal (whose Novhen Tabris is an abolute delight). Basically, Carlo once broke something by accident. He was so so so scared of the consequences, but had developed enough trust into the adults now in his life that he decided to risk it and confessed his mistake. He was comforted, told that he had done a very good thing indeed and that he didn't have to be scared. And the broken thing could be replaced anyways. Here, let's clean it up together. And Carlo did admit to his mistakes from that moment on, mostly, but he also found that breaking something was a very convenient way for asking for hugs. He's a street kid. He did not get hugs prior to this. At some point, the adults figured out that the boy hadn't just developed a bad case of the clumsy and started working on it. He still got hugs, just not when he broke something.

The reason Perinella doesn't speak Fereldan (or, in this case, English, saying founded instead of found), is because she's still learning. She's spent a year in the country. It's a totally different language. It'll take her a bit of time still. Also, she's a mage. Those puppets Carlo chose for her? She'll be animating them with force magic at some point. Somebody will have a bit of a heart attack XD XD XD XD Virel and Perinella are former Crow recruits. Zevran freed Virel, and then freed Perinella when Virel refused to leave without her. They have been together through thick and thin, and Virel especially does not trust Zevran, despite having worked with him. Old habits die hard, and the kid is traumatized. They'll get round to it and it'll get better. Not in this fic tho

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this one and I'm so so so excited to read and see what everybody else has been making XD XD XD Huge thank you for @zevraholics for organizing this event. Happy ZevWarden week!!

[thebookworm0001]

Oh my god big brain idea

So I’ve been trying to fill out my post-trespasser fic a bit more before I actually write the thing (apparently I need something of an outline this time around) and I wanted to fit in a section where Ellana ends up meeting Solona

So solona isn’t exactly. Friendly. She’s kind, she’s just wildly emotionally closed off even after she works through all the reasons she is the way she is. So Solona isn’t about to have a lot of heart-to-hearts or even have much to say in the way of relating to her.

But I thought ‘you know who would? Zevran.’ Zevran would be friendly and kind and tease her without being hurtful. And he could probably help Ellana work through some of her shit in a way that reinforces the hope she wants to have.

Then I thought, hey don’t I have a scene prepped where news gets to Ellana that Fen’harel has a lover (because yes I am going to pepper this thing with a bunch of near-misses and this is one of them)

And at first it was just a play by solas to give her some distance - people have been whispering that she’s working for him because she’s not exactly hiding the fact that she isn’t keen on the ‘let’s kill Fen’harel’ plan everyone else feels is necessary. So he throws that out to get people to think he’s ditched her or was never with her or whatever.

But what if

What if he’s also being a little shit

What if he hears about Ellana spending all this time with Zevran.

He heard about her spending time with cullen, of course, but he knows she’s not interested

But Zevran? Who knows.

He thinks he’s helping of course - telling himself that he’s giving her a sign that moving on is good and right. See - he’s not holding her to anything. And it would be terrible if he did.

But also maybe he’s jealous and maybe that’s why he goes to that tavern and waits and hopes she shows up because he just has to see for himself

[crovvlipso]

Zevran as my rook's father. Girl dad zevran 😩

[necromosss]

I'm actually mad that "The Invitation" looks good on Rindhil. I haven't been putting him in it because I feel like he wouldn't be comfortable showing off his torso like that (BUT NOW IM MAD THAT HE LOOKS GOOD).

front/back ref & mods used in the pic below the cut

Murder of Crows recolor (this recolor doesnt work with the mask) by Montenstein

Crow Mask from Feathery Wardrobe by Kasteai

Grayscale Crows recolor (this recolor affects the mask) by ilzkaal

....Not to mention the desc is possibly a reference to Zevran just makes it even funnier (wearing dad's secondhand? gahd id rather be swallowed by an archdemon)

[coriphallus]

DA: The Veilguard Spoiler review pt2 - The Grime

this is a hard one to tackle without strawmaning anyone because itll be a direct response to alot of defense ive seen for the games morality system so ill just start by saying, iykyk

never a genre has been better equipped to discuss ethics than the interactive medium of games and yes, bioware games have been doing it since baldurs gate and no, theyve not always been 'centrist' and 'conservative'. im not even gonna entertain that idea. do you remember the cultural landscape DA:O released to? the landscape it was developed in? dont give me that just because zevran doesnt write in his little notes -that you can conveniently read- 'gay good. not me but me bisexual'

Thedas is a flawed world and its a world thats just as desperate to hang on to its status quo as our own. every time you play an elf thats thriving, or a human thats queer, or a mage thats not institutionalised you exist in a world that doesnt want you, it is an act of defiance that you do.

im sure we can all see why these games were so popular with the audience they can only weakly try to pander to today.

derailing time again; so one of my favourite paintings of all time is saturn devouring his son. it makes me feel so uncomfortable that it gave me nightmares as a child, and i still cant look at it without feeling this knot in my throat. i hate it. i hate how it makes me feel, how that man looks at me in terror like its begging me for help while cannibalising another. weird story but i was bewitched by that painting as a little kid.

it is not a well drawn painting, the proportions are all over the place, brush strokes crude and inelegant. it doesnt even have a deeper story nor was it intended for an audience. i will never know what goya thought of when drawing it.

i thought alot about that painting later in my life when i was struggling with mental health problems, i thought about goya alot too as an adult and after learning about his life. i stared at his paintings and remembered when i told my dad that i hated [saturns] big eyes and hed jokingly said "it would be scarier if he didnt have eyes"

i know what the drawing looks like now, nearly everyone with a little access to the internet does. if somebody removed saturn from it, we'd still be left with a brutalised headless carcass of a man in a canvas too big for itself. if we removed that too all we'd be left with would be void.

i dont want to live in a world where all i know of goya is his rococo work, i dont want to stare at the painting of a void knowing what filled it before. i hated every second of germinale but i never wanted it to be anything other than itself, the story it tells could never hold credence otherwise.

DAV has done its best to paint over it, but its still on the old canvas and i cant look away from the negative space its left, i know whats under it and it unsettles me, infuriates me. it hands me a palette with baby blues and pinks and tells me to paint over it to make a prettier painting. didnt i hate the eyes? wasnt it gross before?

i am not going to write why we need some grime in art, but its absence is disheartening. and to those who say hanged people in the streets or blighted villagers is dark and mature ill say no. its a kids idea of maturity, its the aesthetic of it with no substance. it means nothing to me if rook can just drench themselves in gallons of blight as they crawl through it. the horror of blight has never been the black goo and slimy tentacles, or the monster woman with way too many tits. it is watching people you love slowly fade away, it is a woman who was forced to cannibalise the contaminated flesh of her friends because the woman she loved betrayed her, it was the sheer scale and inevitability of it.

one area we go to is overrun by it and the game begs me to feel hopeful that flowers are growing again when it never let me lose hope. people have already prevailed, they have roofs over their heads and a steady supply of food on their tables. their spirit is unwavering.

its bad, everybody says. the sky is grey and soil is blackened, as my rook turns some statues to access a haunted house whos inhabitants are long gone and the only story they could ever tell is gone with them.

if the question is do i want to see famine? plague? misery? abuse? assault? the answer is yes. yes. i want to see it all of the filth. i rather face the fucking monster head on with its big bulging eyes and misshapen limbs than stare at the abyss its absence leaves on the canvas.

and if nothing else, this bastardization is disrespectful to the people who gave the IP its fame.

Why choose to be good?

back in the bsn days ive wondered why, even in a fictional universe where your choices have no real-life repercussions what-so-ever, players had more 'good' playthroughts than 'bad'?

what happens when you start killing NPCs, when youre needlessly mean to them? the game actively closes off its own content. you get less out of the game. just as, completely incidentally, you'd get less out of your life if you just started killing everyone around you. The world would be emptier, youd be alone.

in that quote i stole from good place chidi doesnt ask "why be good?" the wording is painfully deliberate. doing good is always a choice, and often not the easy one. what makes the act matter is that you chose to do it, even when given 6 other options not to. did i stop in the middle of an important quest to help a man retrieve an heirloom from a darkspawn infested hut? did i hear what that heirloom meant to him?

i cant stop thinking about that speech ever since playing this game after knowing its predecessors.

So, why do it then? Why choose to be good, every day, if there is no guaranteed reward we can count on, now or in the afterlife? I argue that we choose to be good because of our bonds with other people and our innate desire to treat them with dignity. Simply put, we are not in this alone.

i cant stop looking at this game that spits on its own legacy and think how could they have missed what fundamentally makes us human so bad, what makes us relate and empathise with eachother. what makes us pick the option to interact with an npc who openly hates what hawke is, and allow us to see the traumatised man underneath.

these characters of fiction are written by real people. i have absolutely nothing in common with a guy from canada yet for a brief moment in time i feel a sense of camaraderie as ive felt with goya that i couldnt articulate as a kid.

Nothing too terrible

DAV says it over and over again -as its wont to do with every piece of its flimsy morality- that people can change, people can be redeemed yet it shines as the game with most static characters in its franchise. it simply says things, and since it has nothing to show for it it makes sure to say it repeatedly, in case you missed it.

so when i first played DAO i was in high school, i started with a human noble because fresh out of dark side edgy kotor fame i wanted to be a posh brat. also because, ya kno, we were poor my entire life up until that point and i wanted to have power.

i committed to it, even as the game stripped cousland of everything he had, because i thought a man like him would. i picked the racist options, the sexist options, the options a man in couslands place would. halfway point of the game as i exhausted the initial dialogues something happened; this man who got paid to kill people, who showed no remorse nor care for his victims, begged my cousland to stil his blade.

and i did. i thought maybe he would be as confused as i was, maybe he had a moment of clarity but from thereon bit by bit he was less of an asshole. the characters grew around me, and my character grew around them. i chose to be good because -textually- we were in this together, at the end of all things.

rook is not a character, theyre a mascot. and quite frankly i think they may be a very evangelical mascot because they remind me of evangelical preachings of jesus more than the man from the bible (and i say this as someone whos only exposure to christianity has been through foreign media and the bible ive read that one time). they are the epitome of do no evil and their existence hinges on the frail concept of moral purity. theyre not a person trying to do good, who wants to be good, they are 'good'

-and lemme tell you its a wild choice to have someone like that locked in a prison of 'regret'-

rook can be mean to only one person in the game, and thats someone they dont even have a personal beef with for the most part. but even then they would be shouting at a wall because the game doesnt only undermine them with its narrative, but also every npc in the game suddenly gets possessed by the ghost of wattpad rejects past for a moment to tell them everyone can be redeemed. and i believe it because i played the other games, i believe it because i know zevran and sten and morrigan, isabela and thom and iron bull and dorian. i know it because i can see the vague shapes behind the new coat of paint but i am not rook.

so no, the game fails to get people-can-change points by its own merit, and it cannot gain points from its prequels because it destroyed them. none of those characters i watched grow exist in this universe. zevran cant exist with DAV crows, fenris` story cant exist in an imperium with invisible slaves only glimpsed through empty cages and broken chains left scattered on the ground. i dont know which morrigan this NPC is, is it the woman who grew to learn kindness, who begged to sleep with her friend just to save them despite knowing it would play into the plans of a destiny she so desperately tried to break free from? or is she the clever puppet her mother groomed her to be who wanted to harness the power of a god? i dont know her, i dont know this dorian or this isabela beyond their names ipso facto this is not a sequel.

bellara asks an assassin why he is trying to save the world and his answer is "ive done some things in the past im not too proud of. nothing too terrible, but some of it was bad." and i can hear the games desperation for me to not engage with its material in that 'nothing too terrible'

lucanis never killed anyone innocent, taash never harmed an animal they could shoo of or reason with, emmrich venerates the dead and is friends with every wisp he pulls to use in menial labour, davrin joined the wardens willingly because he wanted to do good...

rook tells harding that her anger is justified when shes not even allowed anger of her own.

nothing too terrible.

aside from creating boring and nonsensical and static characters it creates a dreadful echochamber that we're forced to sustain. No taash is not valid, their gender is but their behaviour is not and for the character to grow and mature it needs to be addressed. lucanis doesnt need to be pampered in shock blankets he needs to see how repressing his problems and jeopardising his health puts people around him in danger etc etc. they are adults and they need to learn more complex ways of healing. and if rooks flaw is that theyre an enabler, then that needs to be acknowledged by the narrative in some way too, and not mindlessly endorsed because they say some buzzwords.

none of these interpersonal relationships feels real because none of these people feel real beyond some draft of themes and tropes. some interactions literally remind me of two bots in facebook comments

i look at this dialogue wheel with familiar symbols and all im reminded of is hawke telling carver he carries every death with him, of him telling his uncle that he wasnt fast enough, of him begging the person he loves to tell him that his mothers death wasnt his fault.

and they dont. they just sit there with him.

[magesforthedas]

Saw a picture of a Tumblr post on Pinterest lol (original credit to @dorianpavus !) of interesting party compositions... And I figured I'd add my take featuring Veilguard companions 😂

Lucanis & Zevran | We're here, we're Antivan, and we're out to steal your heart (but only one of us knows that's what he's doing)

Bellara & Merrill | Adorable ancient elven history geeks, skilled against (….or with) blood magic

Emmerich & Wynne | Our favorite wise elderly mages who do have game still, thank you very much

Davrin, Blackwall, and Anders | We may not all actually be Grey Wardens, but we bond through our shared respect for them

Davrin, Anders, and Alistair | We are all actually Grey Wardens, and also have issues with authority

Neve, Vivienne, and Morrigan | The W. I. T. C. H. party= Woman In Total Control of Herself (and, ya know, they're all powerful mages who could probably rule the world through sheer willpower if they wanted)

Harding & Shale | You can find them bonding over rocks, probably

Taash, Sera, and Merrill | Will be asking all the most uncomfortable and/or confusing questions

Lucanis, Cole, and Anders | We're all varying amounts of spirit. Some of us handle that better than others

Neve, Cassandra, and Aveline | We are the law and you will behave

Emmerich & Leliana | Let's all sit down and have some tea, oh yes Manfred you can play with the nugs, but be careful not to break anything!

Harding, Nathaniel, and Alistair | Wait, you've been flirting with me? This whole time?? (Please I know canonically you can't flirt with Nathaniel.... But a girl can dream 😆)

Lucanis, Fenris, and Anders | Two "mage killers" and one "mage, killer"

Bellara, Cassandra, and Varric | The trashy novel enthusiasts

Emmerich, Carver, and Oghren | The sheer chaos and annoyance that would abound between these people... Oghren would probably still have a great time, at least

Taash, Dorian, and Sebastian | You should never hide your true self.... Okay actually nevermind, Sebastian maybe you should

Davrin & The Iron Bull | The Dad™ team

Assan, Manfred, and Dog | The real MVPs, the Dream Team, the Feather, Fur, and Bone Brigade… they know they’re the favorites

I can’t do enough tags to get everyone, so companions just know you are all in my heart 🫶