#Egeire Mahariel

[serendipitousoracle]

That Hushed Future

@mossandrock​ invited this hurt into the world and I have only faithfully given it shape. AU ficlet ft. Inquisition Companion Egeire Mahariel as he lives through the long year of the quest In Hushed Whispers that (moss’) Herald Camlen Lavellan misses out on due to time magic. It happened. It was real.

Warnings for the sort of thing you’d expect to have gone wrong there: body horror, sanity loss, emotional trauma, mentions of/suicidal ideation, etc.

Egeire had fought with every ounce of strength in his body, the Iron Bull at his side and cleaving through more of Alexius' men with the same ferocity. But they kept coming, and Alexius followed on the momentum of his first deadly spell, creating time warps and assaulting the Veil. Demons broke through into the castle hall. They moved like lightning on water, and Alexius berated the Inquisition's insignificance as Inquisition scouts were engulfed in barriers of slowing magic. They too were quickly overwhelmed. The last thing Egeire saw as he fell, almost immediately covered by Venatori, was the Bull in a swarm of demons and the faces of the Inquisition scouts almost frozen in pain and horror. Fiona screamed and distantly Felix was shouting for his father to stop.

And then everything went black.

Egeire was surprised to wake up; he was considerably less surprised that he woke up inside of a cell. His body ached from battle and from being discarded on a hard, stone floor. The cell had a bucket with the handle pried off, and nothing else. His wounds had been unkindly wrapped, and he was left with his armor, but everything else had been taken from his person. Egeire groaned as he sat up, trying to ignore the pounding in his head. Two Venatori stood outside his cell; keeping guard, clearly. Their heads turned only slightly as he stirred. One nodded to the other, who then left.

Egeire scowled. The remaining guard was smartly just out of arm's reach now. "And where is he going?" No answer. It was what he expected, but frustrating all the same. He committed himself to pacing instead, intermittently stopping to try and stretch some of the aches from his body.

The guard returned soon after. Following just behind him was a man in a sharp black and white coat whom Egeire would peg as more Venatori just for the way he seemed to be willingly escorted... but he wasn't Tevinter. Not like Alexius, Felix, Dorian (the man who had disappeared, died, gone in a flash with...). And it only became more sickeningly evident as the man came to stand right in front of the bars of his cell. His impeccably formal posture was contrasted by warm eyes and a friendly smile.

"Hola, Egeire Mahariel; buenas tardes." His voice was soft, a lilting Antivan accent tying knots in Egeire's stomach. "It is a pity, truly, that we must meet in these circumstances. My associates and I had hoped we could find a way to convince you to... meet with us, shall we say, to discuss a mutually beneficial business proposition. Fools like the Inquisition acquiring your reputable skills first was not a part of the plan."

There weren't enough words in any one language to describe the tumultuous knot of emotions in Egeire's battered chest. Anger. Pain. Frustration, desperation, a deep and vicious longing for numbness. This man was not a coincidence. Nothing about him was. "The plan." His voice shook even as he scowled once more, nostrils flaring and hands trembling. From anger, he told himself, only anger. "What plan?"

The Antivan's smile turned apologetic. "Ah, of course. Forgive me. I have such the advantage of you that simply beginning in the middle is rather rude of me. My name is Kharon Valisti, and I am here on behalf of the Venatori to negotiate."

"Negotiate what?" Egeire cut in, suspicious, shoulders hunched and arms crossed tightly.

"To put it simply: a collaboration. You see, Egeire, you are... simply an impossible, astounding individual. A man of unmatched skill, physical and political, who has shown time and time again capable of overcoming any odd. Or... almost any. The Blight has taken a toll on you. Even now, it ails you." Kharon held up a hand to politely ward off Egeire's impending interruption. "We are a resourceful group, Warden-Commander Mahariel, with contacts in many places. We know many things that most people would claim perfectly protected secrets.

"And of course, you have thrown in your lot with a motley group of fools. Just like the Chantry to use people as needed and then leave them to rot, isn't it? The Inquisition is little more than an obstacle to a better world, just like the organization it spawned from. You see, Egeire, I come to you on behalf of the Elder One. He is the being who can change this world and give it the divinity it lacks. If you joined us, he is the being who could find the cure for the early death that looms over you like the chill of a coming storm. Without the false Herald, Egeire, all this is over; it is only a matter of time. If you opted to join the winning side, however, your innumerable assets could make the coming months that much smoother."

Egeire refused to let his guarded stance budge. "If I refuse?"

A slight sadness in his smile, before Kharon's face fell utterly neutral. "A tragedy. After all, it would be such a waste to leave you to rot here in this cell for the rest of your life... but that is all it would be, I'm afraid. A once-great hero, left to wither away in darkness and obscurity, a sacrifice of nothing but stubbornness, ultimately changing nothing."

To betray the world to save himself. And for what? What an offer. Egeire remained silent, turning his gaze from Kharon to the stone wall in answer. Kharon sighed. "I see. Your reluctance is understandable, but I highly encourage you to think on our offer, Egeire. It is extremely generous, under the circumstances. I will be here another month before other work calls me away. I quite hope you will change your mind before then."

With that, Kharon left. Egeire did not dare glance after him, or even tear his gaze from the wall until his footsteps had completely faded. The two guards settled back at their posts.

It would be a horrifically long month.

For the next week, Kharon was there every evening like clockwork. He would bring dinner that was considerably nicer than the bare necessities Egeire was allowed for breakfast and lunch, and he would sit on the other side of the bars and eat his own there. Egeire picked at his own food, and talked as little as he could. It was hard, sometimes, to not let his voice be coaxed from him.

Kharon spoke more than enough to fill the silence anyway. Egeire learned far more about him than he had ever wanted to. He was born and raised in Antiva. His favorite kind of tea was chamomile. He had almost been an accomplished court dancer, once. He knew little bits of Elvhen. Years ago he had been in love with a Rivaini man, now deceased. There was a duel in Antiva between two nobles to settle a dispute over land deeds and a brothel woman; he had been involved in rigging it so that both would die. The land, amusingly enough, had then gone to the woman. What a world.

Egeire refused to speak when Kharon brought up the Venatori's offer. He could feel the eyes of Kharon and his guards whenever the silence hung in the air. Kharon would sigh, ask him to reconsider, and then take both their plates away. Egeire only hid his face in his knees after he left, and tried not to think about it.

Zevran was gone. Camlen was gone. Egeire didn’t know what happened to anybody else after what had happened in the castle hall; perhaps he was the only one they had even let live. And now... these were his choices? Join the Venatori, or be left to die in the Redcliffe dungeons. He had hated the dungeons enough when it was filled with demonically-possessed corpses, let alone when it was filled with cultists. It was unlikely anybody would be coming for him; for all he knew, the rest of the Inquisition thought them all dead. Even if there was any hope there, without Camlen, there was no closing any rifts the Venatori opened. No stopping the demons from passing freely and destructively into the world.

For the next two weeks, Kharon did not come. Egeire did not ask after him. Egeire's meals were reduced down to breakfast and dinner, still the basic, wanting fare that left him hollow and hungry. He refused to ask for more. He had a feeling as to how it might come, if he were given it at all. The various guards did not speak to him, and only sparingly, quietly, to each other. In Tevene, no less. There was no chance to try to escape; he was unarmed, and never left alone to have any time to even try to fashion a makeshift lockpick.

Instead, he waited in the silence. He would pace, inspect every inch of the walls, pray to Mythal in silence. He loathed sleep. It brought only nightmares, the Blight and the Breach slipping together in fluid, horrific detail. The Archdemon. The "Elder One." Darkspawn, demons. Zevran's death, Kharon watching Egeire coyly from his fallen shadow. Camlen, dead, left to rot on display for the Venatori just as Cailan had been left aloft at Ostagar for the darkspawn. He only woke up tired. Tired and hungry. Tired and hungry and in pain.

Egeire had almost jumped out of his skin when Kharon's laugh finally echoed down the hallway again. He'd brought lunch. He even dismissed the guards. Egeire did not pick at his food; he was starving, too much so to even look at the patient smile on Kharon's face as he let Egeire eat in silence, not rushing him for words. And then, soft again, as Egeire finished: "Have you reconsidered my offer, bello?"

If he had still been eating, he would have choked. As it was, Egeire's chest still seized with pain at the tender endearment. He looked away immediately. "The answer is still no, Kharon. I will not let the world burn to save my own hide." Egeire tried to sneer at the far wall, but could only summon a grimace. "Your mistake is assuming I even have a reason to live in the first place."

Kharon hummed, then sighed. He leaned against the bars, but still Egeire refused to look. "You could, if you would only choose to." His hand rested itself briefly on Egeire's shoulder, causing him to stiffen. He twisted to look away from Kharon completely "I will be leaving at the end of the week, Egeire. Please. Make the right choice." Then, Kharon took Egeire's plate, and left. The footsteps of the guards replaced his.

Egeire breathed out a ragged sigh, and gripped at his hair, desperate for the silence again.

For another week, Kharon returned for dinner, and Egeire's plain lunch returned. Kharon spoke philosophically and at length on many topics. Purpose. Loneliness. Sacrifice and suffering, and morality in the face of the coming end of the current ways of the world. Egeire even fell asleep to the warm ramble of his lilting voice one night, curled against the wall beside the bars. It was humiliating, and he seethed at himself for the show of weakness. No wonder Kharon was trying at this for so long. Egeire must have seemed so pathetic, so close to the knife's edge of breaking. Zevran would be ashamed of him. It had only been a month.

The final night of the week came. Kharon brought the largest dinner Egeire had been granted yet. He knew it would be the last. He made no show of reserve for this, resigned to at least eating the last full meal he would likely ever get. When Kharon passed him the other half of his own plate, Egeire wanted to recoil, shout at him, refuse. Keep some shred of pride. Instead, he ate. It would be the last time his stomach would ever be full.

"I leave in the morning," Kharon whispered, leaned against the bars, hand resting on the stone floor inside Egeire's cell. Egeire did not look up from his food. He couldn't bear to. "Egeire, please. You don't have to do this. Tell me you'll leave with me tomorrow. Just tell me you will join me, and this nightmarish chapter of your life can just be over. You could even spend tonight in my quarters instead of this awful, barren cell. Will you come with me, Egeire?"

Egeire was silent. Then, he slid the stacked plates toward Kharon, and moved away from the bars of the cell. "I believe I will be staying here," he replied, tired. He only had to get through tonight, then Kharon would be gone, and he would be left to rot to death in peace. "I will not join the Venatori."

Kharon sighed, almost sounding genuinely sad, before chuckling bitterly. "I suppose it is true what they say about Fereldens, then."

Egeire still didn't look. But he couldn't help replying. "Oh?"

"Stubborn as dogs." He took the plates and stood, brushing himself off. His voice was sad again. "And horrifically cruel. Goodbye, then, Egeire. We will not meet again."

With that, Kharon left, the guards replacing him almost immediately. Egeire's breathing was ragged, eyes burning before he even realized it. He dragged himself into the furthest corner of his cell from the direction Kharon had departed in, curling up tightly with his hands pulling his hair harshly over his face. He could at least hide the tears rolling down his cheeks. Pathetic, pathetic. Weak. All he wanted in that moment, more than anything else, was to see Zevran again. To hold him and bury his face in his hair and sob and let Zevran rub his back, to breath in the scent of leather and Antivan brandy and wildflowers, alone in their other home in Antiva.

But all he was was alone, alone, alone and pathetic and weak and crying. If he threw himself against the bars, begged the guards to send for Kharon, and knelt there sobbing that he had changed his mind, he was sure he would be released from his cell and held, rocked, reassured in sweet, soft Antivan. It would all just be over.

So instead Egeire curled in on himself tighter and murmured fragments of an Antivan lullaby under his breath, and despairingly tried to hold himself together until the next morning had come and passed.

Egeire didn't move from the corner until something soft hit him in the head. Then he jolted, looking up to see a meager bread roll tumbling onto the floor. The rest of his lacking dinner was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor just inside his cell, right next to his untouched and unnoticed breakfast. A miserable relief washed over him. His shoulders slumped. At least that agonizing temptation was over with. At least he still had the will to choose an austere damnation to oblivion rather than give up everything to show how spineless and weak he really was when he was alone.

He numbly took the roll from the floor and pressed it to his lips, curling back up and taking small bites when he could will himself to move at all.

With the Venatori giving up on turning him came the passing of days and weeks in a blur. Guards came and went. Sometimes he got meals. They stopped coming with any kind of regularity. Sometimes they were only scraps. Egeire vaguely stretched, but pacing had entirely lost its appeal. The injuries he had sustained in the losing battle with Alexius had not healed well. The scars ached and his body was painfully stiff. Having nothing to fitfully sleep on but the cobbles of his cell did not help either. When meals had become irregular, they started leaving him a second bucket, of water, to drink from. He wasn't sure why they bothered.

The first thing that changed over the slog of his captivity was the day another Venatori member came up to his guards. It was only one, so it wasn't a relief shift. "The two of you are dismissed," she told them, not even glancing down at Egeire. "You are being relieved by a patrol."

"A patrol?" the guard on the left asked. "You mean--?"

"Yes." She looked from him to the guard on the right, and then back. Egeire could not see her face under her helmet. "Empress Celene has been assassinated."

Right-Guard snapped to attention. "Really? Finally! Are we being transferred? Even without any mutts here, this place stinks of mongrel. Not to mention how intolerable--"

Head-Guard somehow managed to convey a withering sneer even through the metal covering her face. "Asking stupid, inane questions out of line is a good way to indicate that you're too unfocused on what is important to be good for anything but babysitting that fool Alexius and our lingering work here." 

Left-Guard stiffened at that, and immediately hissed for his companion to shut up. Head-Guard left, and Left turned to strike Right on the shoulder in disgusted exasperation. "Are you trying to get us stuck in this hole while the Elder One transforms the world? As if we want to be in Orlais when the Veil is torn entirely open there."

Right flinched, drawing away. "I just can't stand Ferelden," he muttered, turning with his companion to leave. "At least watching demons tear Orlais apart would be entertaining...."

Egeire blinked dully at the opposite wall as they left. Empress Celene of Orlais, assassinated? By the Venatori? Why? No. For the chaos, surely. They already declawed the Inquisition, so turning up the rest of Thedas in a state of unrest was likely to ensure nobody else would have the chance to mobilize against them. Or... perhaps this Elder One enjoyed the chaos? Or it enabled him to rip open the Veil? Was it another Breach to be created, pouring demons down from the skies? Or something else?

Distantly, he wondered if assassinating the Empress was something they had wanted him for. Not that it mattered, clearly. Just as Kharon had said... it had gotten done eventually. 

He stood up, paced around his cell a few times now that he was alone, stretched, and then settled into the other back corner of his cell. It wasn't like anything had changed, anyway. He was still here, still locked in a cell, still going to die here alone.

He wondered if he would ever hear anybody say his name again.

He was half-conscious in the corner of his cell, listening to Blightsongscream of the Calling, of the Taint in his blood, when the clanging of metal on stone startled him into awareness. He looked over at the door to his cell to see his dagger and sword, after so long of being apart, tossed through the bars onto the cell floor. Two Venatori guards were staring at him, one leaning on the bars with one hand and making sure to look down on him. "Noticed you weren't eating," one of them said.

He had somewhat stopped bothering. Perhaps they had taken it for a hunger strike. Not that he had ever demanded anything. He didn't reply either way. "So if you don't want your food, you may as well save us a stop on our patrol," the other said mockingly. "We'll just call it a mutual favor, knife-ear."

The first guard just snorted as they both walked on. Alone again, he looked over at his weapons. There was no point in giving the Venatori the satisfaction of his quick death. He shifted slowly and went to take them nonetheless. It was... almost comforting to sheathe them on his back again. He didn't really have a use for them, but at least he had them. Even if he broke out of his cell, what was he going to do? Storm the castle alone, maybe make it far enough to kill the man who had already beaten him once, who seemed to not even be an important pawn for the Elder One anymore? There would be no point.

At least it felt like he had a little piece of himself back, even if it was meaningless.

Dreams, dreams... dreams? Dreams. Yes, best to call them what they were. So what if they were his only company? What were they going to do, leave him too? The solitude had left him numb to caring. Even the constant ache of his body had become background noise. Well, just about everything had become background noise. The pain he was in, the leak in the lower dungeons that was starting to flood his floor, the stiffness he had started simply working around rather than try to work out of his body. Didn't matter none of it did. (None of it?) None of it. None. All drowned out by the humming anyway.

Not humming like voice humming. Humming like his bones, humming like clawing like the Calling digging claws into the back of his neck like trying to get up into his brain where it already was when it wasn't in his blood which was in his brain anyway so it was still there too. Except for when it wasn't. He was mad. No he wasn't. Well, yes he was, but it didn't matter. He had practically embraced it when he saw it coming. Mad was better than miserable, or at least consciously, solely miserable. Better to strain his throat humming and trying to harmonize than scream it raw.

Sometimes he ate but usually he didn't. Some part of him liked the idea of making them waste their damn efforts. He was usuallyalwaysnever hungry anyway-- the Taint was warping him-- so one more or less meal or twenty didn't matter. He had long tuned out their footsteps. He only liked the footsteps of the children that came to listen to his stories or the silent drifters who liked to listen to him hum. He liked to listen to him hum too. No he didn't. Well, he did it anyway, so it didn't matter. Nothing else to do.

Heavier footsteps passed. Not children, not drifters, so he only hummed and swayed to drown it out. They passed too. Background noise, background noise, like everything and one else dying in this hole. Whole hole, wholly dying. Stiff body splashing along the floor to retrace the steps of a field dance he didn't have the room for. Oh well. No room for anything really.

He was remembering the path through burning, Tainted woods when he heard a voice. Another voice. He always heard voices but they weren't always gruff and echoing and wrong and they didn't call, "HEY, KNIFE-EAR!"

Well, yes, they did, but not in that voice, and not from way down the hall.

He stuck his face out of the bars and looked down the hall and squinted, because he was pretty sure he was the only knife-ear here (or at least the only one worth yelling at if he said so himself). He would almost chalk it up to another waking dream except no except no, there was a grey hand and a big big grey shoulder pressed against the bars of a distant cell and a big big big horn poking out into the hall. It was angled awkwardly. He probably couldn't really get his head out proper. Big dumb sod. "WHAT?"

"So it is you!" Big Dumb Sod yelled back, because they were rather far apart for casual conversation volumes. "I guess they weren't lying when they said you didn't fucking talk. I've been trying to get your damn attention for days; I was starting to figure you were just dead."

He laughed at that, cold and gravelly and hoarse, almost doubling over. "As if our luck would hold out for that!" Luck. Luck! A joke in itself, a concept too high up the shelf. His face itched at the thought. And his shoulders. Fuck. They always itched, he was just noticing it again.

A gruff grunt. "Yeah." Pause. "You been here the whole time?"

"What time?" he asked vaguely back, slumping against his bars. "The all time, I suppose. Yes? And you. Not dead, ox? Thought everyone was."

"Nope. They locked me up a floor up. Guess they're just moving everyone downstairs since everything's a shit fire anyway."

He hummed. "Orlais too."

"I heard." Another pause, longer. "Everywhere by now, probably."

"Indeed." He drifted out, trying to picture the scope of Thedas. He could barely imagine the size of Ferelden anymore, cooped up under Redcliffe for... for months? Many. He turned back to the hallway. "How long, ox-man?"

"How fucking long what, knife-ear?" got shouted back, irritated. "Too fucking long, probably. Whatever it is."

"How long since... since...." What was in a name? "How long since we lost? Since they threw us in cells?"

The silence that followed pulled the heat out of the air, out of the other's voice. It was tired when he called the answer back. "Eight months, I think, give or take some weeks. Not much to do if you wanted to celebrate the anniversary of us and the world getting our asses kicked, though. They probably wouldn't even bring us any ale if we asked."

He let himself devolve into little mad, hopeless giggles, falling to sit on his heels and lean back against the walls by the bars of his cell. Eight months. Of course he couldn't even tell, down here. How old would that make him again? Didn't matter. That much he could agree upon. Well... no, no, it really didn't matter. If it did he wouldn't have a scar on his throat that itched too. So really, nothing mattered.

"KNIFE! EAR!" came the exasperated yell.

He perked up, looking back down the hall. "What?"

"Look, just... one more question. One more question, and then you can go back to talking to yourself or cackling like a loon or whatever the fuck it is you do over there for fun." He hummed and waited, leaning against the bars. Listening. "Does... your cell have red lyrium in it, too?"

He smiled wryly, looking down at the red glow cast across the surface of the inch or two of water over the floor. He tried to keep himself from actively itching even as a gloved hand came up to poke at his hard, crystalline scabs. "Of course it does," he called back, and laughed. "Where doesn't, anymore?"

Within weeks he was hewaseas-- he was fairly consumed. Felt no pain. Better than months prior. He itched so much, though. Had to braid his hair back to keep it out of his face or it would drive him... he was already there but more. Eyes closed didn't matter. Cell hummed skin hummed blood hummed he hummed. Red lyrium soothed the Blightsong, crystallized the claws at his neck. Made it damn hard to stretch his neck. It jutted out of his shoulders in solid stalagmites now. Rough peaks of ore poked him in the face if he let his head drop to either side. Learned it the hard way. A small piece broke off in his temple once, grew up to the tip of his ear. Whispered. He tuned it out.

Voices voices unimportant humming loud singing almost started humming too. "Hey, knife-ear!" He listened, this time. The ox. Coming... closer? "You listening?"

He cackled. When was he ever? Why would he? "Bite me, ox-man."

Splashing footsteps (floor long flooded), horrific curiosity bubbling up like drowning men's breaths. Ox-man. So tall. He'd practically forgotten. Ox crackled with red lyrium too, seeped into his eyes and radiating but not growing from his skin. But that was not the red that suddenly captivated him. He missed the gasp but not its owner.

The very picture of a year ago. Two wide open mouths, a white-knuckled grip on a staff. Green coat red hair warm skin, scaredshocked eyes. He met those eyes they said nothing. Impossible-- impossible? Ox-man free and dead men walking? He pulled himself from the wet floor, standing with a faint hum. They didn't speak hum. Pity. Good? Well, unimportant. Little one, important one, dead one, gaping, breathingwhimpering, "Egeire."

He cocked his head. What? What was that? It prickled like lyrium growing into his lungs but it wasn't there yet, not interested yet in his useless breath. Important. Yes important. The First said more but he didn't listen. Ox's voice, deep and rough and lyrium, "That's you, knife-ear."

... Him! Right! A small sound of understanding left his throat, as the other mage came to open his cell door. Egeire stayed standing in his cell, turning over the sound of his name in his mind again. Egeire? Yes, yes, right. Maybe Ox had used it. He'd never listened. He listened to the elf, little First and not-Herald. It seemed rude to ignore a specter (not-specter?). The Ox kept talking regardless. "Herald's not dead, we're going to kill Alexius, it'll be a good time."

Now that sounded fun. Fun wasn't something he-- Egeire-- had thought about in... months-that-felt-like-years. He finally came up to the open door of his cell. Cautious, careful. Just in case it wasn't really open and he was about to walk into it. He didn't hit anything so he leaned against the doorframe, unable to help a small laugh as a painfully wide smile strained his face. Egeire looked up to see the First looking so confused. He hummed. "Well then. You've missed quite a bit...." Name. The First remembered him, but Egeire didn't remember the First. Who was he? Who? It wouldn't come. He'd let too much go.

Egeire shook his head to focus. "You've missed a lot," he purred (maybe?), "a lot, a lot..." It was so entertaining to speak again, voice threatening to drift into the rhythm of the corruption consuming him. He stopped again, clearing his throat, "Ahem. Has the ox-man told you?"

"Bull hasn't told us much yet, no." Oh! Bull, not Ox. Close. He'd hardly been corrected. Until now? "If we can just get to Alexius, we should be able to get ba... well." Well. Unimportant, probably. Egeire never did get the actual plans of Keepers. Why should First be any different? "But how did... mythal'enaste, what happened?" Then he turned away, to Bull, and Egeire simply blinked. Well, Keepers never consulted him either. All fitting really. Egeire pondered on Mythal instead. How long since he had prayed to her...?

"Red lyrium set into him faster," was what Bull was saying when Egeire paid attention again. "Couldn't tell you why, boss. Knife-ear went completely insane months ago. At least he isn't singing about his glory days again."

Oh, insane! Bull thought he knew insane! Egeire smiled but held back a laugh, instead dreamily humming, "The Blight, the Blight...." Bull sighed. The Blight... mischief faded to thoughtfulness. "The Calling sang and the lyrium found it and harmonized," Egeire mused, voice rough and thin. "I could not answer the song but I have started to learn it, however faintly. I cannot tell the Calling from the lyrium anymore; maybe they're the same, now."

It felt like it. Had red lyrium grown into Blight or Blight into red lyrium? Impossible to say. Insecurity at ignorance in front of a First suddenly lashed at him, and Egeire quickly added, "Oh, but I can tell you of the year you've missed!" A smile, finally some use. Song in his blood and song in his memories called to him, but he tried to stay on topic. "You and the shem were turned to ash, the Inquisition couldn't last; the Elder One killed the ruler of Orlais at her ball, and soon after would the whole empire fall." A laugh! "Demons, little First! The Elder One commanded so many demons. An army, armies, stormed Thedas alongside his Venatori, and we all fell, fell, fell as he rose. And so here we stand, forgotten in the ashes of a dead world."

Egeire smiled, glancing back towards the First. "Astounding what happens in but a year."

"Like I told you, boss," Bull groaned, "crazy. Right about the last parts anyway, but damn far off the deep end enough to be halfway to Par Vollen."

The FirstHerald looked oddly thoughtful, glancing between Bull and him. He said no thoughts. All he said was, "Come on. Let's get to Alexius and end this. I've seen more than enough of this world."

Egeire gave a rough laugh in response, feeling something drain from him. "You're telling me," he quipped, suddenly realizing how tired he was. It grounded him a little from his madness, at least. He stepped out of his cell, joining the assembled group. The First and the shem had blood on them; the guards were definitely still around then. There was yet more fighting to be done.

He reached up and back over the lyrium growing from his shoulders to draw his blades, though at first they didn't want to budge from their sheathes. Egeire yanked harder, breaking them free with loud cracks as his sword and dagger, now encrusted with red lyrium, yielded to his hands. He had missed having them. He missed holding them. The difference in weight didn't even register. "Lead the way." Time to follow.

The First's jaw twitched, grip on his staff tightening. "This way," he replied evenly. He turned away and walked off into the corridors. Egeire, with the other two, followed behind.

They allowed themselves a slight detour from going straight to Alexius. The remnants of Fiona had managed to croak out a reason: "Leliana." That was all Egeire had needed to hear, laser-focused, only hearing "Find her," before he was already about to walk off without the others. They were not far behind him.

The hissed voice, an open door, the movement of armor. "I will die first." The First was ahead but Egeire was right on his heels. She saw them, they saw her, hanging from the ceiling, a Venatori torturer turning to face them. "Or you will." Her legs swung up and locked around his throat, the First stilling in shock at the sight. The Venatori choked and clawed at her shins but she was still armored and vicious and given new reason to fight. He started to fall and she wrenched against his struggles and just like that, he dropped with a broken neck. Egeire could only stare in silent awe through a fog of addled madness.

The First rushed over, fumbling at the dead man's belt for his keys, and Leliana watched with shocked but calculating eyes. She was gaunt and pale with sunken cheeks and bruised eyes, face warped by innumerable withered creases and wrinkles. Stringy, dry orange hair poked out from her dark hood. The First rose to free her from her bonds, and her voice held all the weight of the world: "You're alive."

She watched him he watched her, and he managed, "We have a plan, we-- we're going to try to fix this."

"Forget 'try.'" Her voice was nearly as sharp as her stare, softness worn away by... a year? of torture. "If you're back from the dead, you will need to do more than 'try.' You need to end this." The First swallowed thickly. "Do you have weapons?" A nod. "Good. The Magister is probably in his chambers."

Everyone watched her as she crossed the room purposefully to retrieve her bow and quiver from a chest by the door. Egeire almost didn't know what to make of her. None of this felt real but she felt like a reflection in a broken mirror. It felt wrong, she looked wrong, even though he knew he looked worse. "You... aren't curious as to how we got here?" the shem asked, awkward.

"No." Leliana stood with her reclaimed possessions, and Egeire could not help a snort. So lost. He felt so lost. Her focus was almost comforting. Why would anyone care about the story? There could be change. Change after so long a year of waiting and suffering. The Elder One couldn't possibly be stopped now, but if there could be a change before the now...

"Alexius sent us into the future," the mage said anyway. Egeire rolled his eyes. "This. His victory, his Elder One-- it was never meant to be!"

"If we can get back to that confrontation in the castle hall, we can stop this from ever having happened," the First agreed, determined. "We can fix this. We have to."

Leliana sighed. "And mages wonder why people fear them.... Nobody should have this power." The shem mage started talking again, and Egeire sighed in the doorway and shut his eyes. He was so tired. There was no time, no time, never and always and fixed and malleable and he was so so tired. Leliana snapped, "Enough!" A relief. "This is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was-- this is-- real."

She turned away-- and looked right at Egeire. "... We suffered," she said, rough and angry voice falling quiet. Up close he could see the blood under her pale skin, the mottled bruises and the way her pale eyes practically glowed in comparison to the shadows engulfing them. A long pause followed. He held her gaze. "My friend." He couldn't read her expression. "After all you did for me... I could not find you. I am sorry, Egeire."

There were no words left in the ravaged pieces of his minds to describe how comforting it was to hear his name wrapped in her voice, her accent; through the fog he could remember the Blight, a decade ago when her cheerful voice and the lilt of her accent had even then been soothing against that backdrop of chaos. Meeting her eyes, he had a feeling she knew how far gone he was. "I... knew... there was no saving me," he rasped, stumbling on trying to word grounded thoughts. "I never blamed you, Leliana."

Leliana smiled bitterly, the moment fading, but she rested a hand on his arm briefly to remind him, "We must once more go save the world, Egeire."

Egeire found a smile to return to her. "I suppose I could manage that one more time."

He tuned out most everything after that, the strain of thought taking its toll. Leliana and the Bull and the First kept him focused enough to help kill their way to the Magister. Egeire took an especial, vicious pleasure in seeing him cut down. But after that... the adrenaline began to subside. The mages knelt by the body and looted in, the shem taking an amulet and turning it over in his hands. They talked. More noise. Egeire leaned against a pillar and closed his eyes.

So close to the end. And yet... even if they left, went to "fix" things, what then? Would everything just cease to exist, gone in an instant, waking from a nightmare? What if it didn't? Where could they go? Nowhere. This "future" was still ruined. They were still dead walking, purposeful yet damned to the void.

"An hour?!" Leliana snapped, turning and approaching the mages. "That's impossible! You must go now!" She spoke reason enough even before the castle shook around them. Rubble toppled from the crumbling ceiling as the distant howl of demons tore through the halls behind them. Leliana looked up as the ground settled. "The Elder One."

Well, Egeire supposed that settled the question of what was going to happen to the rest of them.

"There's a reason they won," the Bull said, unsettled, as a silence fell. The First looked confused, afraid. Leliana, grim as ever. Egeire glanced over at the Bull, who was looking at him. They shared a look, and though Egeire knew Bull did not hear the humming, he knew they had the same idea.

Egeire stepped forward, Leliana turning back to him instinctively. "They'll be coming to kill the mages. Bull and I will go out to meet them, hold them off for as long as we can. Buy the time that was worthless a year ago. You remain here, kill anything that gets past. I know you can, for long enough."

The First's eyes were wide with shock. "Th-That's suicide. Egeire--"

"Look at us," Leliana hissed. "We are already dead, Camlen! The only way we live is if this day never comes." Camlen. Camlen, gods, that was it... and here Egeire was, only just learning it again before his death. He nodded to Bull, who nodded back and started moving to the door. "Cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows."

Leliana turned and drew her bow, stalking toward the door with purpose as Egeire began to follow Bull. He smiled wryly for her, one last time, but she did not return it. Despite himself, Egeire said, softly, "And here I thought I wasn't going to go on my Calling." Her determined expression shifted slightly-- pain. He dropped his gaze sadly, before it all began to fray again, and he joined Bull at the door. It was already open. Bull did not relish this moment either, but he was ready.

The crossed the threshold together and pulled it shut behind them. At least it was sturdy. The howls of demons grew louder. In the haze, Bull was just about the picture of a fellow Grey Warden, following Egeire out into the endless legion. They would fight as hard as they could, until they were overwhelmed and fell. He was no Warden, these were no darkspawn, this was not the Deep Roads... but this really was a Calling, wasn't it? Egeire saved them a bit of bloodletting, swiping quick slices across his arms as they approached the invading horde, and let the twice-tainted blood drip down his blades like a poison.

Egeire Mahariel did not fear the sleep of death any longer. He had become the bestial epitome of nightmares already. All, for one last time, to save the world.

[serendipitousoracle]

🌟🌟🌟

[For every “★” I get, I will post a fact ramble lbh about my characters.]

★ Egeire Mahariel is just. such a sweetheart?? He struggles with the idea that people would prefer him alive rather than themselves pristine and unharmed, has scary battle-trances in which he just spaces out and kills without thought, and will internalize bad feelings until they rot him from the inside out, but he’s just such a sweetheart. He likes being told stories and giving gifts and physical affection, is a cuddly cat despite being 5′10 and like 200+lbs of muscle, and he loves flowers?? My brain makes so many tragic and painful AUs for him but I just want to see him happy and cuddled ;-;

★ Soveliss Liadon has recently acquired an AU dragonborn paladin boyfriend. His name is Ishan and he belongs to @muffinyouadorablelittleshit. He is not the sharpest tool in the shed but he’s v Strong and protective. Apparently Soveliss is just fated to be attracted to paladins it’s an unfortunate pattern so far. But it works out well with Ishan! They’re v cute and Sov is esp willing to figure out how to kiss that dragon snoot when Ishan’s got all that muscle.

★ I still just really love the idea of Fae AU Grey so much. The lonely Fair Folk of the sea, and in a Dragon Age: Origins plot tie-in, the Warden meets him in the waters of Lake Calenhad. Trapped by Irving’s broken word, bound to the waters around Ferelden’s Circle of Magi in Kinloch Hold, forced to live away from his home and prevent mages from escaping should they step foot in the lake. He is willing to make a deal for his freedom, like a less shitty version of the “choice spirit“ in Inquisition. esp fun if you have a Warden like Tamaris who comes back to make another deal with him post-Origins. Like holy shit I still super wanna draw like mer-eel-esque Grey adorned in gold. and/or siren-esque Grey. just. fae aesthetic holy shit

[serendipitousoracle]

8, 14, 15, 24 for Egeire (squad verse, ofc)?

Egeire Mahariel – Well Adjusted Wardens AU

8. Emotional scar with the worst memory?

“… Tamlen. It will always be Tamlen.”

14. Worst thing a friend has done to you?

Egeire’s face is wry and annoyed more than anything. “Oh, I don’t know. There’s the night I spent in quiet terror that by the end of the night I would find that we’d saved the world, but either my lover or my best friend would be dead. Only to later find out that said friend had secretly taken measures to prevent a Warden’s death beforehand. Oh, or the time I was woken up in the middle of the night to fight the avatar of a goddess, where the revelation of the aforementioned secret took place. Ooh, ooh or the time I got heckled the morning after my birthday celebration. Or the time Tam–! the time somebody stole my ice cream and had the audacity to look adorable while they ate it. Or–”

15. Worst thing a lover has done to you?

He’s smiling more now after eventually winding down from the last question. Egeire then affects a pout. “Denoreth was carrying me once. It was wonderful. I hadn’t been picked up since I was a child and to be in the arms of someone strong enough to hold me was so romantic. I was elated. And then somebody asked him about a rune on the wall and he dropped me without warning on the ground like a basket of rotten fruit–” He pauses as he is jabbed and reminded. His ears flatten as he frowns. “I… suppose there was also the fight we had after the death of my ab… my old mentor. He didn’t understand. It hurt.” [mutter:] “Or the Deep Roads.”

24. How often are you told you’re loved?

Egeire perks up a little. “Love was… more silently expressed, growing up. I understand that my clan loved me but it was harder to believe when I did not hear it, direct and plain, so much. I did not hear it at all for a long stretch of the Blight, but… these days I hear it, directly and indirectly, so much more often. I might even believe what I hear enough to believe myself worthy of it.”

[serendipitousoracle]

O SHIT WADDUP IT’S DAT BOI

aka holy shit I finally have all my old Dragon Age: Origins screenshots and savefiles back!!!!! so here is Egeire Mahariel my son!!!

[serendipitousoracle]

me: *doesn’t play Dragon Age: Origins in like 2 years*

me: *loses access to old savefiles*

me: *suddenly starts getting attached to characters and doing crossover/collab stuff with other people with said hazy old characters*

me: “this will be fine, i remember Enough(tm)“

Egeire Mahariel, now, after years of not referencing his original material and rebuilding his personality through interacting with others: sweetheart, XXL moral compass, a bit shaky with some ethics but generally pretty goody-goody in a nurturing environment, privately soft, likes helping people, did p mch a straight Be Good To Everyone playthru

me: *regains access to old savefiles, goes to figure out what his voiceset was, finds a file named “justkilledcaridin,” worriedly investigates*

Original Flavor Egeire Mahariel: apparently kEPT THE ANVIL OF THE VOID LIKE A JACKASS. EGEIRE. NO.

[serendipitousoracle]

Anne Cousland used to wear Anora's hand-me-downs when they were growing up - a lot of Fereldan nobles exercise a sort of performative thriftiness. She generally wasn't too impressed with them though and most were quickly packed up and sent off to then next in line, Delilah Howe.

the fact i have probably done to death by now (but still love) is Egeire’s later growth spurts made Ashalle and Ilen throw up their hands because he’d outgrown any hand-me-downs the clan could give him, but he didn’t seem to be bloody done growing, so he ended up with a few oversized shirts and long, loose skirts so he could be properly covered without having to constantly make him new clothes. he got a more proper wardrobe when his height and bulk largely stabilized. (crossover wardens keep asking his clan what they fed him but his clan is just as baffled as they are.)

a fresher jump might be like– my D&D character Soveliss was raised by ghosts– the sole survivor of a monastery slaughtered when he was six– so for a good chunk of his life he was getting hand-me-downs from nearby villages and also learning to sew and repurpose the many robes and such that were left in the monastery by monks who no longer needed physical clothing. nothing like half-raising yourself to develop those domestic skills!

[serendipitousoracle]

Eg: 8, 16, 32; Ria: 7, 9, 19; Sov: 14, 31, 35

Egeire

8: What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

Broadly speaking, Egeire was probably told an innumerable number of times to stop following Tamlen into mischief, but it never stuck. As an older child he was also told, only partially joking, to stop growing oh Creators bc he got tol and big.

16: What makes their stomach turn?

The aftermath of darkspawn hordes. Ragged and torn bodies, the ground soaked with blood. The looming threat that you could be like them you are like them their taint is in your blood and you already kill with their mindlessness and how hard it is to banish those thoughts. Broodmothers sicken him too, and especially so if it’s an AU with his half-sister. In general, taint and the potential for its intrinsic corruption of a normal person– of people like Egeire and those he cares dearly for– is what often sickens and horrifies him the most.

32: Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

Stories work better than jokes; he likes hearing and telling stories, and there is something about a narrative that is easier for him to naturally create/remember and convey than jokes (tho canon Eg sure as hell is sarcastic). Pre-Blight it is inevitably some hilarious misadventure of his and Tamlen’s, and post-Blight his favorite stories might include meeting Zevran (edited for battle trance), the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the pitiful Sloth dream in Broken Circle, DRAGONS, an utterly made up story about griffons, and so on.

Egeria

7: What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

The little flowers that she used to grow in small pots in the Circle. Certain types of cookies. Bunk beds. Books of herbs. A garish shade of yellow, especially on Circle robes. Nostalgia tends to fill her with melancholy. So many mages in Ferelden’s Circle of Magi never got to see the outside world again, let alone with the freedom she had. So many lives she knew and couldn’t save…

9: Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

Ria is more of a precision-f-strike kind of person, but she certainly swears. Her first swear word was probably a soft, uneventful “shit,” when one of her plants died, which she quickly looked around to make sure nobody heard.

19: What is their favorite number?

She doesn’t particularly have one, but she is very familiar with counting to ten to calm down. She tells Alistair it is 30, because that’s the year they met (She tells Denoreth it’s the year they became friends while nuzzling him, bc she’s a sap and what is a little white lie :P)

Soveliss

14: What animal do they fear most?

FUCK FROGS

I am amused by the thought of Soveliss being uneasy around goats; their eyes are wrong and they scream like the dead and they eat far too many things they shouldn’t. Undecided as to whether he really fears an animals though.

31: Who are they the most glad to have met?

His smile was warm, and so were his hands, so real in the dark dream-like forest, so inviting when Soveliss was desperate and lonely and moving through his life like the ghosts who raised him, and he gave Soveliss the tools to engage with the world beyond his monastery though time has made his absence fade to a dull ache Soveliss still…

At this point, probably Grulka. She is the most constant person… in his life, really. Everyone is fleeting or dead or they look at him oddly or put him on guard, but Grulka is still here and she cares about him and she tries to listen and learn when he launches off on tangents she doesn’t understand and there are often nights where they share quarters and she keeps him grounded in physical reality. So. Yeah.

35: How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

Soveliss is not really used to having friends so it’s a bit of a hard question. Like really his only currently friend is Grulka, and his range of reactions, varying on his own interest in the thing, probably would range from wry amusement to mutual excitement. But, generally, at least trying to be supportive. With anyone else it probably depends heavily on how much he personally cares about what they’re excited about.

[serendipitousoracle]

Your choice of Dragon Age OC! (Or feel free to answer for multiple OCs!) What gift would your OC get for their LI for their first birthday they get to share with them as a couple?

oooh hello! Going to go with my like alt-verse Warden trio since they’re a handy bundle already (all being minor deviations of each other I kept accidentally getting attached to)

Egeria Surana (the very first DA OC)

Egeria romanced Alistair since, well, he was there first and I/she got charmed by his dorkiness. (Fun fact: I didn’t realize you could talk to your companions outside of camp so Egeria got the rose cutscene in the Redcliffe dungeon entrance surrounded by corpses. Smooth.) Assuming post-Blight, my first two thoughts are either fancy Grey Warden equipment (because hey she’s Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden now, she can do that, and he’ll be going out to fight in the Thaw and she wants him to be safe), or plans to get some time alone together for some manner of vacation because they’re both Grey Wardens, they’ll both be working a lot, and it’d be nice to take a break and actually get to enjoy just being a couple and not “a couple who also actively needs to fight Darkapawn watch your back dear there’s a genlock.“

Egeire Mahariel (Warden #2, Dalish-Rogue!Egeria, because hey I just wanna do another run to see other content so let’s not sweat making an entirely new character WHOOPS)

Egeire’s LI was Zevran, largely because I wanted to see what Zev’s romance was like after Egeria’s game. They ended up being very sweet though and now Egeire’s pretty much my main DA OC when it comes to fandomy things. Again there is the matter of timing. If it’s Awakening-era, Zev probably has to come to him because Egeire is a duty-bound wreck who doesn’t really want to be Warden-Commander but feels obligated to, so Zevran probably gets a nice evening in to drag Egeire away from his work, a flower crown, and a whole lot of affection. If it’s post-Awakening and Egeire and Zevran have reunited in Antiva, Zevran probably gets some very shiny thing that Egeire picked up in Awakening (that engagement ring from the Blackmarsh would make a very nice complement to the earring Zevran gave him), a flower crown, and a whole lot of affection (Eg is a bit of a sap if you couldn’t tell).

Grey Surana (Circle-Mage!Egeire who is somehow not just Egeria again, he was an accident, not even intended to be a Warden, but I kind of love him now so whoops)

Honestly I will maintain that Grey’s main LI is @aubergion‘s Tamaris Surana but if you were to make Grey a solo Grey Warden (and “Grey Warden Grey” is just unfortunate), he, like Egeire, would romance Zevran. (Taking LIs as in-game and not modding Alistair, Zev is the only option for a gay man anyway, and that aside is still just as charming to Grey as he was to Egeire.) Grey is generally flashier than Egeire and doesn’t feel as constrained by politics and duty, so honestly it is perfectly possible that Grey would go on vacation to see Zevran on Antiva despite all the assassins if it weren’t for people insisting he see to that pesky talking darkspawn problem first. Either way though, when Grey sees Zevran next it is probably with a lavish dinner, fine wine, candlelight, that engagement ring, another pair of Dalish gloves & Dalish boots, and plenty of oil for both massages and any other later ~fun~ activities during the night, because Grey is nothing if not Extraordinarily Extra. (and a flower crown if Zevran has figured out that Grey can make those too despite being a Circle mage because it’s utterly adorable amor aww are you *blushing*)

Thank you for asking, @heyscience! :D

[serendipitousoracle]

Mixtape n wardrobe for like... ALL the ocs?

[♡ OC ask meme ♡]

i will give you six (6) ocs.

Egeire Mahariel:

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like

1. “Love Love Love” - Of Monsters And Men (basically The song for Egeire/Zevran tbh. love and reluctance and duty and fear and pining, which eventually breaks down as despite it all they keep getting in deeper and deeper until Egeire finally goes fuck this and for once decides not to sacrifice everything he wants to hold onto)

2. “Rather Be” - Clean Bandit (happy fluffy love song for Eg’s sweet, loyal attachment to various love interests. he is devoted and adoring and when he is with the one he loves he would never want to be anywhere else)

3. “Wolves Without Teeth” - Of Monsters And Men (wqieujb?? devotion and consumption and non-physical wounds idk how to explain)

4. idk. something emo? and then instead insert “Not Gonna Die” - Skillet bc it’s really the message Egeire should be taking home

5. and then as throwback to something he’d like maybe smth Gorillaz or Disturbed just for “smth that would probably be on Egeire’s music playlists somewhere“

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?                                  

In DA-centric universes Egeire ends up becoming fairly all-or-nothing re: clothing. at the end of the Blight, into Warden-Commanderdom, and to some extent post-Wardenhood, he is either in full armor and weaponry (with some extra flash and ideally some small piece of elfiness in the Awakening period), or when he is completely alone and not paranoid and with people he trusts in a space he feels safe in, he is wearing like comfortable loose-fitting pants and that’s about it.

In more modern AUs Egeire wears more like… practical clothes, probably? flannel and open button-ups over tank tops with sturdy pants and tough boots, whatever clothes have been Gifted to him over the years, annnnnd at-home muscly shirtlessness with loose sweatpants

Also he looks so great in lace

Under Cut: Egeria Surana, Flytter the Junior Historian, Cyrron Mirevas, Soveliss Liadon, Grey Surana

Egeria Surana

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like

1. “Arms” - Christina Perri (still p much the First and Most Egeria/Alistair song. being Wardens is one rough thing and then the elven mage and the bastard prince is harder still. it works out in the end, but….)

2. “Retrograde” - James Blake (ouch that isolation and your friends are gone, and your friends won’t come, so show me where you fit. i’ll wait, so show me why you’re strong– i’ll wait, we’re alone now)

3. “You May Be Right” - Billy Joel (whoops it’s The DenRia Song)

4. “Beth’s Theme” (Broadchurch OST) - Ólafur Arnalds(Ria’s canon is just so like…. sad. unintentionally sad. quietly, wordlessly sad.)

5. “Stolen Dance” - Milky Chance / “Budapest” - Georga Ezra / “Break Stuff” - Limp Bizkit (just kind of misc songs for Ria Chilling Around The House)

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?

DA: a mix of aesthetic robes and practical ones, some with long flowing pieces and embroidered flowers that gradually transition to black dust, wearing her mage blood and magic specialties quite literally on her sleeve, some that are more armor than robe (bc spellsword/arcane warrior) but with elements of robes nonetheless. Dresses more lightly in private for ease of movement, with fur shawls and fine shoes and all. may be talked into some sort of short top + long skirt look by her fawning husband. in private.

Modern: light blouses and either loose-ish pants or long skirts, fond of flower motifs, plenty of like cardigans and soft jackets and things that generally perfect that sweet and trustworthy and caring outward demeanor she wields like empathy made tangible and precise. also has regular graphic tees and jeans for gardening.

Flytter

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like

1. “Little Talks” - Of Monsters And Men (grief is what drives Flytter from home to wrap themself up entirely in their work… for better or worse, despite the best wishes of those who cared about them)

2. “Non-Stop”, “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story”, … - Hamilton the Musical (um excuse me if somebody made a musical about Egeire Mahariel/WAWsquad/The Fifth Blight Hero you fucking know Flytter would be all over that)

3. “Radioactive” - Imagine Dragons (radioactivity… lingering Blight corruption… same difference, right?)

4. “Heavy In Your Arms” - Florence + the Machine (not entirely happy with this pick but struggling to find something for just– that kind of background gnawing of the slow, slow, painful death seeping into their being, the constant pain and the losing fight to the ebb of the corruption and their inability to keep it effectively treated or soothed or just. nesdfds.)

5. “Beyond the Veil” - Lindsey Stirling (trippy instrumentals for recording things and remembering dreams? sure why not. clear Veil joke? woo!)

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?

.DA: robes, again. robes with a focus on complete head-to-toe coverage and not irritating rough patches of skin or what not too much. Something comfortable enough to sleep in. Not really much variety once they lock themself away in Kinloch Hold rebuilt.

Modern: light shirts tied up and semi-professional vests and the ability to quickly create a skirt in any situation when they need to really move in a hurry

Cyrron Mirevas

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like

1. “Enemies” - Shinedown (i didn’t even have to think about this one everyone hates Cyrron except like…. you jay. only you. everyone else goes ‘ew’ or ‘why are his eyes sockets not full of sharp/sharp-ish utensils’ when i bring him up. only you cheer when he shows up or hand him over to tentacle monsters but)

2. “Simple Man” - Lynyrd Skynyrd (and the complete flipside– a simple kind of man, not rushing, revering the gods, settling down with a bondmate and having children… it was the life Cyrron intended to live, not exactly a soft or warm or gentle man by any means, but a simple man. Then he lost everything, and survived Vir Banal’ras, and we have present day Cyrron.)

3. “The Dalish Elves Encampment” - Dragon Age: Origins OST, or something (this is basically a placeholder to state: what do you think super traditional Dalish elf music sounds like? for Ferelden Dalish if you want to get specific maybe. Basically, whatever Traditional Dalish Music is, that is all Cyrron himself cares to listen to. That’s it. He hoards it. maybe even plays an instrument. the world will never know.)

4. i swear to god i’m not putting “Closer” on this list SO HOW ABOUT THAT BODIES SONG HUH IT’S SUPER MURDERY N STUFF

5. “Indestructible” - Disturbed (fitting, since it was on Egeire’s list, and he definitely got that from somewhere. really, Cyrron is indestructible to a point that even upsets himself until all the venom he sank into others finally comes back to flood his veins)

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?

DA: Armor. Sturdy Dalish armor, long updated and cycled through with parts, blades on hand at all times, each meticulously well-kept and menacingly. The only time he’s not in armor is if he’s for some reason in disguise to get closer to someone to kill them.

Modern: ranges from business semi-casual to business ultra-formal and nowhere below that range, at least not for wearing out in the daylight. Cyrron mostly has his crisp dress shirts and pressed black slacks and all that easy “I am wealthy and important and you don’t need to know what I do for a living” class, even despite the clear vallaslin, but he also has a variety of tougher garb and more lowkey clothing for when his real line of work comes calling in the night for a slit throat or a poisoned drink.

Soveliss Liadon

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC or songs they themselves would like

1. “Addicted to Love” - Florence + the Machine (possibly the earliest defining song for my vague thoughts of ‘Soveliss and his feylock patron’. Soveliss insists he knows what he’s doing! He just has to keep his wits around him! … gods, though, he is so lonely.)

2. “Carousel” - Melanie Martinez (have I mentioned Sov is really super doomed? And it’s all fun and games/‘Til somebody falls in love/But you’ve already bought a ticket/And there’s no turning back now)

3. “Believer” - Imagine Dragons, & “Whispers in the Dark” - Skillet (the main brain-chewing songs for fiendlock!au Soveliss)

4. “Dust Bowl Dance” and “Broken Crown” - Mumford & Sons (hypothetical #mood for potential Angry parts of potential Soveliss character/story arc “You haven’t met me, I am the only son.”)

5. “A Martyr for My Love for You” - The White Stripes (i’m just saying if anybody else dies before we finish this adventure Sov is gonna start getting real antsy about forming attachments to normal, mortal people)

Bonus 6. Welp. (a ghost monk floats through Soveliss’ room as Sov puts up a bard band poster up in his room in the monastery like “soooooovelllllissssss whaaaat isssss thissss” and teenage Sov is just Instantly Teenage Annoyed “MUSIC, JUST LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE, IS CHANGING, DAD” (all the monks in the monastery are Dad sov has like 2 dozen dads it’s a time))

BONUS 2 EDIT EDITION: i forgot “Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)” - Florence + the Machine was also a Sov inspiration song whoops

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?

D&D: Soveliss at the moment generally has his greyscale Acolyte of Kelemvor robes/garb, some dark leather armor, maybe some shiny beads or baubles, and his gorgeous blond hair (it is probably literally enchanted t b h), buuuut he has no real exposure to like….. choice of clothing let alone fashion. idk we’ll see if aub ever gets us somewhere cool where I can get him a truly art-worthy outfit or if he dies first i guess.

Modern: ????????????

Grey Surana

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like

1. “Stray Italian Greyhound” - Vienna Teng (whoops first song is a Grey/Tamaris song. but: Grey is every bit the tongue-tied hopeless romantic that Egeire is, except he somehow works himself up about it even harder bc in a way Grey can be summed up as Eg But Extra (i love this song tho))

2. “I of the Storm” - Of Monsters And Men (wh o o ps it’s another Grey/Tam song. but it is also a good sort of song for Grey’s general insecurities, still carried over if reflected differently from Egeire’s. not measuring up. not being loved. feeling trapped. are you really gonna love me when i’m gone? are you really gonna need me when i’m gone? i fear you won’t; i fear you don’t)

3. “In My Sleep” - Mystery Skulls (can’t find a good video but you can’t do this like i do/i fucking wrote this in my sleep is just. 1. it mostly inspired an au. 2. take Egeire’s mild peacock tendencies and turn them up to fucking 11 and you might start to approach Grey levels of pride and showboating. tempted to put “Magic” on this list but just. it’s so great. just go look it up.)

4. “Through Glass” - Stone Sour (something quieter. bringing back that feeling of isolation from Ria, but a bit more self-imposed– putting up walls of glass to keep a distance from everything and ending up sitting alone inside his own head, which really could account for a lot of his doubts. a negative feedback loop of sorts. but he is so used to it.)

5. “Work Song” - Hozier / “Iris” - Goo Goo Dolls / “Rather Be” - Clean Bandit (just some more love songs for the hopeless romantic bc I’m p sure I’ve spent like 8 hours on this ask and I’m dead now)

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?

DA: so fashionable. whether he’s the Circle Ambassador or the Warden-Commander, Grey is dedicated to keeping up with trends and edging out ahead of them where he can. It’s a careful balance to keep, neither being so compliant as to be invisible or stepping so far out of line that he’s branded “outsider“ again, but he loves it. Grey is all about politics, wealth, luxury, prestige– whatever the Circle and the Chantry wanted to deny him, he will take, one way or another.

Modern: so fashionable. if it’s In he is at least looking into getting his hands on it, if he doesn’t already have it. as the Circle is traded out for more like…. slicksharp white collar big business laddering-climbing type ambition, so too are robes traded for suits, and so some manner of dress shirt + jacket/blazer/etc + slacks/dress pants/etc becomes his norm. Whether he’s climbing or charming or sleeping his way to the top, he enjoys surrounding himself with luxury and learning how to take advantage of it.Is still a sweetheart who looks nice in lace though.

[serendipitousoracle]

zodiac shooting star mixtape & fragrance for Eg(any aus) & Ria & Sov plz

[ ♡OC ask meme ♡ ]

By question:

zodiac: what’s their sign? does it influence theirpersonality? do they care about astrology?                              

Egeire Mahariel & Egeria “Ria” Surana:

As Egeire is a derivative of Egeria and Egeria is originally aSelf Insert, both are born in the twelfth month, known as Cassusor Haring. Unfortunately if I ever nailed down a date fortheir birthday/s I absolutely cannot find it.They very likelystill both fall in the range for Sagittarius, though. I don’t thinkit terribly influences their personalities, though I am very biasedby years of being umimpressed with the common astrology babble of“Sagittarius is an extrovert who loves adventures and excitementand is changeable and spontaneous!!1!!1“ Ria would probably payastrology no mind and Egeire would probably mostly do the same but heis also absolutely the type to lowkey look up sign compatibility withpeople he gets crushes on.

In the Chinese zodiac, they were both born in 9:08 I believe,which if you translate that straight as 908, means they’re EarthDragons. I… think.

Soveliss Liadon:

yeah I’ve got 0 idea when Sov was born. soz fam. if it becomesimportant to his backstory or if aub develops any Cool Year Info NShit maybe I will figure that out but honestly I never come up withcharacter birthdays until it comes up. which is not often. I don’teven have any real vibes for seasons they all seem Fine.

shooting star: if your OC(s) could have one wish whatwould it be?  

Egeire Mahariel

Perhaps… peace, or maybe life depending on the timeframe. Peacebeing the ability to be cured of the Taint in his blood and live alife that makes him happy with the people who make him happy.Alternatively, life– namely, Tamlen’s. He feels guilty aboutTamlen’s death for a long time. Even if Tamlen isn’t his…Egeire wants his friend to live a full life and die a death not inagony.

(Egeire’s wish for peace extends to any Warden Egeire AU, but inWAW!AU imagine his life wish expanding. it would probably take quitesome rules-lawyering to keep it from being disastrous, but what ifEgeire could undo so much sorrow? Tamlen lives, and so does anybodyfrom Clan Sabrae who might have perished in the Blight. The Circle isnot ravaged, and so many mages who were locked behind heavy doors andleft to die have a second chance at life. Hundreds of soldiers, lostat Ostagar and beyond, return home to family and loved ones.Consultation is probably needed to keep his tongue from erring intosomething unwise, but what if the past year did not need to be soakedin so much grief? And, well… he has plenty of role modelsfor ambitious goals, now.

Royals AU Egeire would consider it, and… honestly find hedoesn’t want for much. He is happy with Denoreth, and unlike theother royals AU, this Egeire is not as scarred by Cyrron beforeCyrron is eliminated from his life. His training with Cyrron isultimately what allows him to keep Denoreth safe, in fact, and evenDen likes watching him fight. so Egeire would probably just wish forsomething like eternal prosperity upon both their kingdoms or somesuch.

Fugitives AU Egeire probably has an interesting wish: A life wherehe is never taken and broken by Cyrron, but still gets to meet andend up happy with Denoreth like he is now, without the trauma.Failing that, the follow-ups would be erasing the aftereffects ofsaid trauma, or him and Denoreth having a life of comfort where theynever have to struggle to get by again, like they did when they firstfled their past lives)

Egeria Surana

I think the big thing that would address a lot of Ria’s hurts inlife would be equality; if elves and mages and non-Andrastians wereon even footing with humans (etc), maybe then she and those who comeafter her wouldn’t have to worry about mages (some of themso young) leaping from high windows or choosing Tranquility,and elves wouldn’t suffer in alienages, and she would not feel socaught on a tightrope between Warden and elfmagegirl, the latter ofwhich also becomes a real threat to her relationship with Alistair.It is a gigantic scale wish, but it’s one concept, and itwould likely be hers.

Post-Inquisition, the wish she makes probably wouldn’tchange… but honestly, on the inside, she just wants Alistair backfrom the Fade.

Soveliss Liadon

There are two major angles Sov can wish for: past and future. Onthe one hand, he could have everything he lost back. The monks couldlive again, he could have a home, they could perhaps reconcile, andhe could spend like a week straight just crying and holding onto eachand every one of them for dear life.

But on the other hand, there is the future. There is him as anadventurer, a warlock, and a traveling acolyte. For the future, hiswish would likely be power. Knowledge, magic, and control farbeyond his current comprehension. With enough magic he could protectwhat few things he still cares about, and fulfill his duties toKelemvor in protecting others and striking down undead. With enoughmagic, he might not feel so small compared to his patron, though hewould not be able to fathom being on equal footing (or being morepowerful than?) his dear patron, an archfey. With enough magic… hecould perhaps bring his family of monks back himself, or at least putthem to rest so they no longer haunt the halls of the monastery. Sogiven the choice, Soveliss would probably wish for magic, power, andknowledge.

What could possibly go wrong?

Under the cut: mixtape & fragrance

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songsthey themselves would like

Answeredhere for normal Egeire, Egeria, and Soveliss.

Royals AU Egeire:

1. “TheBest Is Yet To Come” - Frank Sinatra (once Egeire and Denorethfinally get to the point of being in love… things are reallylooking up)

2. “I Lived” - OneRepublic (being very suddenly thrown into an arranged marriage feels a bit like being thrown to the wolves, but perhaps by the end of everything, he will have finally lived a life of his own choosing.)

3. “Collide” - Howie Day (tentative, sweeter love song for boys gettin’ to know each other)

4. “Float On” - Modest Mouse (chill song about carrying on through setbacks, bc hey that’s p much all Eg can do at this point)

5. “Any Way You Want It” - Journey (surprise most of this AU rn is young princes falling in love and holding onto themselves despite the politics as much as possible)

Fugitives AU Egeire:

1. “TheOnly Exception” - Paramore (Egeire learned from Cyrron thatlove was fickle and fleeting and led only to hell and heartbreak, andDenoreth had figured out pretty quickly that getting attached topeople was a fool’s errand, but…)

2. “Be OK”- Ingrid Michaelson (Poor tol has spent so long being torn topieces and scrambled and he just… wants to have the partsof himself he lost back)

3. “Field of Innocence” - Evanescence (The sadder half of the above coin. Flip-flopping between wanting to Be OK again and just wanting to go back to before he was ever hurt.)

4. “Jump the Fence” - Mother Mother (Fleeing and freedom and not necessarily goodness, only looking out for themselves and going straight back to merc work and profiting (surviving) off of doing richer bastards’ dirty work)

5. “Give Me A Sign” - Breaking Benjamin (Just. Boys gotta hold onto each other and try to keep each other together through financial struggling and moral conflict and internalized shit and the scars will remain but they can too.)

Bonus: “Home”- Phillip Phillips (could apply to both AUs, really. everything is uncertain- and inFugitives AU especially even terrifying- but they will have a home.This new place will be home, one day.)

fragrance: what do your OCs smell like?                              

Egeire Mahariel:

Canon/WAW: Leather and sweat typically, from being out on the road, often with some measure of blood. When they get to Vigil’s Keep and there’s room for fancy soaps and shit, he would probably be particular to pine or herbal scents or smth.

Royals: really it’s going to be like soap and scented oil rubbed into his hair or halla and sweat and there’s not a whole lot of in-between

Fugitives: When Denoreth first meets him, it is the light, almost undetectable scent of salt water and ocean breeze. This lingers through most of their encounters, at varying degrees of intensity, until they make their break for it– that day is just sweat and fear, ironically as they are surrounded by the real sea and eventually have their final confrontation with Cyrron. After that, Egeire never smells of the ocean again. He likes apple and water lily and honey scented soaps, and the smell of flowers often lingers on him when he leaves his room. He also specifically keeps unscented soap around for when they’re working.

Egeria Surana:

Scents don’t cling to her much. Soap and books if anything, in the Circle. Sweat on the road. Likes flowery soaps once she can get her hands on them. Still only lingers for so long, though.

Soveliss Liadon:

Pre-adventuring Sov mostly smelled like old, old books and incense. Adventuring Sov probably smells of pretty little considering he is extremely ready and willing to basically prestidigitate off layers of skin to keep himself fairly clean. Dusk of the New Morning Soveliss probably smelled like dust and food, while Here There Be Kerbolds Soveliss (aka current Sov which is absolutely getting a The Adventure Zone reference name bc of the Abraca-Fuck-You quote) probably smells like either linen or faintly of swamp (bc grumblegrumble it takes /so much prestidigitation/ to get swamp water out and he’s probably still going to have to wash so much shit after this is over).

[serendipitousoracle]

Thought: Soveliss vs Egeire?

Well that’s definitely a hard one, if largely because it is hard to like… put my D&D character and my Dragon Age Video Game character right next to each other? Sov’s media operates on very different rules from Eg’s. Plus just right now Soveliss and Egeire are at very different levels. Sov is a level 2 warlock who can get his shit fucked up by a dog-sized dragon and a group of fish, while Egeire has slain multiple huge dragons, saved the world, and gone through more shit than Sov can even fathom.

So just quick match-up of present-moment Sov and Eg– Sov can use Armor of Agathys to do probably 10 points of retaliatory damage tops, and maybe hit with eldritch blast once before Egeire closes the distance, but altogether Egeire is more experienced (in combat, difficult terrain, survival, poisons, life, sex, weapons, insight….), higher leveled, better equipped, probably straight-up faster, has killed plenty of simple magic users before, has dealt with far more cunning people than early adventurer Sov, and so far Sov hasn’t had a ton of Higher Power Back-Up so despite having actual archfey/god connections i don’t think that gives him any edge whatsoever.

pls do not make the level 2 warlock fight the like level 20 warden he will die quickly and painfully and sadly ty

[serendipitousoracle]

Egeire vs Egeria >:D

unless Egeire gets the drop on Egeria, he’s probably fucked. Canonically, Egeire is a very competent assassin (with Dark Passage!) who has fought and killed no shortage of magic users, but typically with backup, and also it’s Egeria. She is an Entropy/Creation specialist, with the Arcane Warrior & Spirit Healer specs. If Egeire gets into her line of sight without being ready, she has at least three options to lock him right down, which she can probably chain if need be. Egeria can paralyze him and start draining him, and if need be power up– Arcane Warrior up, create a unique, localized Death Cloud (a small headcanon sort of thing– not as powerful but no self-damage, follows her as she moves, a font of dark entropic clouds, seriously reduces battlefield visibility, fueled generally by siphons), make use of glyphs as need be… Egeire could use the cover but Egeria can generally navigate her own cloud. If he can get magebane into her his odds improve severely, but she has Dark Sustenance and Bloody Grasp to buy herself mana and emergency damage.

I luv my Eggo waffle son but one must Rialize that in most versions of this battle, there’s pretty much one clear victor.

[serendipitousoracle]

For Egeire: 5, 14, 23, 28, 33?

5. Is it better to hurt others before they hurt you or let yourself be walked all over and hurt by others?

Egeire is silent for a long time. “I… I cannot say that I would… resort to hurting others first, when I don’t…. The former is not a philosophy I could see myself believing in. That’s all I really have to say about it.”

14. What of love? Say you discover your lifelong crush on another has finally been reciprocated… but they are currently dating a family member or a dear friend the crush feels responsible to honour. Do you force the break up? Date on the side? Bottle it up forever?

Egeire huffs a strained laugh, with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well clearly it’s not that much stronger of an attraction if they don’t wish to initiate the break-up, now is it? I would not go behind the back of somebody I cared about, and if this… hypothetical crush were to do so, I can’t say that reflects well on any relationship we could have. B-besides, bottling it up is practically my specialty! H-hah. I thought these were supposed to be hard to answer. Next question.”

23. Could you ever become your own hero? Is that a role you can fulfill or is it something you look to others for?

Egeire frowns. “I have done many things beyond the ordinary, as we all know, but… I don’t know. ‘Becoming own’s own hero’ sounds a rather odd concept to begin with, and I– I am too soaked with blood. I fail to meet many of my own ideals, personal and cultural. Constantly. Intrinsically. Do I look to others? When I was younger, perhaps, and stories of legendary knights and elder hunters still fascinated me. But those years are long dead. I am set a bit too high on a narrow pedestal to even risk looking above me, let alone to actually find anything. There are plenty of good, admirable people in this world, sure; I would not call any of them ‘my hero’.”

28. How long would you wait for the one you love? A year? Fifteen years? Forever? Could you honestly be loyal to an unfulfilled love? 

Egeire smiles bitterly. “If I weren’t already, now I would be sure you knew me. My record so far is… six years, maybe? Seven? I can wait a long time, even with no hope. Would I shun all others for that love unreturned? Well, I have never faced that test and I pray I never will. I doubt it, though. I crave affection. If someone else were to take an interest in me while my original flame remained out of my reach, uninterested in me, then it is hardly as though I have a duty to them to freeze in the cold.”

33.If you could wipe certain memories from your head, would you? Why would you? What memories?

“Cyrron,” Egeire mumbles immediately, then looks quickly at the floor. “If I could… maybe it would draw his poison from my veins, to not remember him. Maybe so much less would bother me. Maybe I would not feel so overshadowed by the legacy behind me, or found so wanting by everyone who matters to me, or so undeserving of… anything good, or precious, or kind that I long for. Perhaps my softness would not feel so much like weakness.” He grimaces. “Or perhaps my bloodthirst, my weakness, and my doubts are just intrinsic, and he only brought them out more severely. Maybe it would change almost nothing. Perhaps I’d be better off simply forgetting who my father was entirely– hard to remember you don’t measure up when you have no memory of the stick, no? Or maybe I’m just unfixable. Wouldn’t surprise me. A ragged dagger does not become fine silk by forgetting it was made to bleed.”

Egeire sighs. “I would like to just forget this question, I think.”

[serendipitousoracle]

Drabble meme: any/all members of the WAW Squad, 44?

[send me an oc/some ocs/??? and a number and i’ll write you a drabble]

44. “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” 

There was nothing,Egeire had to admit, like the killing high that settled into his skinafter a fierce fight. It… unsettled him more often than not, but hewas alive. Egeire sighed inthe quiet as his blood cooled.

Thenhe realized it was less that it was cooling, and more that it wasleaving his body at an almost alarming rate.

Egeireturned quickly around to call for a healer, only to sway and nearlyfall. He was caught and held harshly in place by a sudden burst ofmagic that tingled across his skin. Before he could contemplate thesensation, its caster came into view– Tamaris, glaring daggersalmost enough to finish him off. Instead of crushing him, however,they set to work closing the worst of his wounds.

“Oneof these days you’ll be dead before you hit the ground,” theychided him irritably, “and when that happens, somebody is going tofigure out how to revive you just to kill you again. Inordinateexsanguination is nota virtue, Egeire…”

Egeireonly silently noted they didn’t have a scratch on them, and wassatisfied. He shut his eyes and simply hummed in response, lettingthem work.

[serendipitousoracle]

Tamaris' first impression of Egeire (WAW!verse): "A Dalish elf, so Daveth wasn't exaggerating... but do the Wardens make a habit of recruiting the ill?" (One minute later: "Maker what was he /fed/ as a child?")

Probably a good thing to be worried about there Tam

(the answer: everything. so much of it. there are many reasons this boy was trained as a hunter and one of them was he keeps eating and getting bigger creators’ sakes take this bow and these blades and help keep everyone else from starving godsdamn)

[serendipitousoracle]

Six word story -- He asks: "have you seen me?"

everybody go home this wins this is it

[; send me a six word story describing my muse.]