#I guess it’ll have to be an Inquisitor

[melhekhelmurkun]

Just realized that in my “Anakin doesn’t fall but the empire still rises” WIP there’s no Vader so who tf is going to order the capture of Leia’s ship

[felassan]

some snippets from Mark Darrah’s co-stream of SGF opening keynote:

Chat asked “We’re getting 15 min of gameplay on Tuesday. Can you share if the release date will be announced at any of these upcoming events?” Mark replied, “I don’t know if the release date is going to be announced. I don’t think so.” --- Chat asked if he would make a video about the name change. Mark replied “I want the news on the name change to settle a little bit before I do a video, just to see where everything’s landing, but yeah, I’ll do a video on the name.” [that video is up but is members-only] --- Mark: “There are good reasons for the name change. Any time, I mean, changing a name is definitely not a free thing to do, so. It’s impressive to me that the team considered it significantly worth it, and worth it enough to do it. Veilguard does fit the actual game better. The interesting thing is, is the group that it matters the most for are not the full Dragon Age franchise fans, it’s more the people who came into the franchise at DA:I and haven’t played another game. That’s where ‘Dreadwolf’ is the more troublesome game, because it's implying more of a direct sequel. So, if you’ve been with the franchise the whole time, you know that Dragon Age changes every time, but if DA:I was your first one, you don’t want people coming into this game thinking ‘oh it’s a direct sequel, where’s my Inquisitor, what’s going on?’ Like that’s just, an unforced error. If you had never played another DA game, Dreadwolf is fine, because it doesn’t really mean anything. It’s mostly the, I played DA:I and I’m not fully immersed in the franchise, I’m immersed enough to know what Dreadwolf means, but not enough to know what Dragon Age typically means.” --- Mark: “Honestly I think Dreadwolf is just carrying the momentum of having been around for a while. All names sound better the longer they’ve been around. Well, not all, I suppose, but almost all. I think The Veilguard will grow on everyone very quickly I suspect.” --- Mark: “Yeah, I’m not a huge fan of the ‘the’ either, but, there are reasons for it.” --- Mark: “I think that if EA ever decides to do a remaster of the original trilogy, then I suspect they can probably be convinced to change 'Dragon Age II' to 'Exodus', in that circumstance. Otherwise I don’t think it’ll ever happen.” “The only thing with Exodus is we a get a bit, in this sort’ve, accidental, the games are named after books of the Bible, thing, which I’ve talked about before, but. I guess The Veilguard is not a name of the Bible, nor Dreadwolf, so I guess it would’ve broken with this game anyway.”

[source]

[bucketsofmonsters]

Where the Light Enters - Part 12

cw: unreliable narrator, hurt/comfort, slow burn, enemies to lovers, past childhood sexual assault, past sex trafficking, past nonconsensual body modification, vaginal fingering, oral sex

Cole/Female Inquisitor

word count: 4k

ao3 link

Masterlist

Cole could not get drunk. He could get a little tipsy and his walking most certainly suffered from the alcohol, but he couldn’t quite seem to get drunk in this new phase he’d entered.

He could get hung over though. 

She never got drunk. It was bad form for a career manipulator. She was mildly tipsy, and Cole had given getting drunk a good try. After the ball, Rosemary had told Bull she needed to take Cole to his room, using the way he stumbled over rocks and then glared at them after as proof that he might not be able to make it there safely on his own. 

As soon as they’d gotten back to the attic, she’d collapsed on the mattress in a fit of giggles, everything suddenly seeming incredibly funny to her. 

Cole lay on the bed beside her, positioned so he could stare right at her as he was wont to do. 

She pulled him closer, pressing kisses across his face between giggles as he just stared, big eyes straining to focus on her while she was so close to him.

And then a wave of exhaustion passed over her and she closed her eyes. 

“Am I drunk?” Cole whispered to her, still not great at volume control. 

“I don’t think so,�� she said. “Do you feel drunk?”

“I feel dizzy. Your thoughts are all wavy in your head. I don’t feel like that.”

“Probably not drunk then,” she said, peeking her eyes open to touch her finger to the tip of his nose. “I’m going to sleep now. You can stare at me if you want.”

She wasn’t sure if he said anything after that, passing out almost as soon as the words had left her mouth. 

When she woke up, Cole was asleep beside her. He was curled in on himself, body facing her with his knees tucked into his chest, his head ducked down. 

His eyes fluttered behind his lids, like they still wanted to stare even as he dreamt. 

She was content just watching him, wondering if this was the first time he’d slept. She wasn’t aware of him sleeping before, but she wouldn’t put it past him to fall asleep and not inform her of it. 

He began to rise far too soon for her liking. She wasn’t done observing him, the tables turned for once. 

He awoke with a pained groan, the likes of which she’d never heard from him before. 

“I think there are bees in my head,” he announced, flinching at how loud he’d been. 

“Well, that’s concerning. Should probably get them out of there.”

His nose scrunched up. “You’re teasing.”

“I can’t help it, you make it too easy. Now come on, I’ll get you something to drink, it’ll help.”

“Help what? Why are there bees?” he whined. 

“You drank too much, it’s called a hangover.”

“I don’t like it,” he said with a pout. 

“Few do. It’s the price you have to pay for drinking, or else no one would ever stop doing it.” 

“You drank more than me,” he declared accusationally. 

She shrugged, knowing it wasn’t true and neglecting to correct him. “Guess I’m just better at it than you are.”

She ran downstairs to the pub and asked for a cool glass of water. The bartender shrugged and said she had no mages on call and so she took a warm glass instead and ran to go see Dorian. 

Dorian seemed less than thrilled to see her, sporting a mild hangover of his own. “How are you so spry?”

“I’m still young, I’m sure it’ll wear off when I’m your age,” she said with a laugh. 

She’d had a hard time with Dorian. He didn’t respond to flirtation, at least not from her, and he didn’t seem to care much for her sweet and vulnerable act. It had taken her too long to figure it out, to recognize that the way he bickered and joked with everyone was his own form of bonding. 

A few verbal sparring sessions later and he seemed quite fond of her. 

He rolled his eyes. “You’d better not be here to ask me for a favor.”

“It’s not for me. Cole’s got his first hangover, or perhaps some bees have snuck their way into his head. With Sera downstairs I suppose it could be either. Regardless, something cold would be much appreciated.”

He scoffed. “And why have you come to me for that?”

“Vivienne won’t do it if she thinks it’s for Cole and Solas won’t do it if it’s me asking.”

“Fair enough.” He waved his hand over her water, causing a layer of frost to form on the outside of the glass, also handing her a stone that was cool to the touch. 

“That will stay that way,” he said, nodding at the stone. “It’s rather handy for headaches. I don’t know about bees but it's worth a shot.”

She grinned at him and grabbed a pair of scissors she was eying before calling out, “Thank you so much, I owe you one. Good luck with the hangover!”

She was off before she could hear whatever jab he’d sent at her next, moving as fast as she could without spilling the water. 

When she returned, Cole was laying face up on the mattress, hat draped across his face. 

“Come on,” she said, pulling his hat off of him. “I’ve got stuff to help.”

He grabbed for his hat as she took it. “The light hurts,” he said, and she supposed that explained why he was doing it. 

“Come on, you have to drink something.” She handed him the glass of water and then pressed the stone to his forehead as he sipped at it. 

“Dorian,” Cole said, and it was an unusually brief thought.

“What?”

“The magic, it whispers to me. Electricity in the air, pieces of things that could have been. The water tastes like it, crackles on my tongue.”

“Yeah, it’s from him. He sends his well wishes.”

Cole’s head perked up and he looked up at her. “He’s like this too. I’m not the only one who hurts.”

“You are not. It’s kind of ridiculous, you’d think a magister would be able to hold his liquor.”

“He’s like you,” Cole said. “Afraid to drink because secrets might come out. Last night he wasn’t afraid, drinking to forget instead of refraining to remember where the lines are. You never stop being scared so you never drink. Always just enough that they won’t know.”

“Whatever you say,” she said with the same huff she used whenever he’d been right about something she’d rather he hadn’t been right about. 

He was uncharacteristically quiet for the next few hours, Dorian’s magically cold stone balanced perfectly on his forehead. 

She was content in the silence, just laying on their little tucked away mattress with nothing else to do or worry about.

Eventually, he began to stir, the painful grimace almost entirely gone from his face. 

She turned to him with a grin and asked, “Are you feeling better?”

He turned to her and asked, “Already?” with a bit of a huff, neglecting to answer her question.

“No time like the present,” she said as she pulled the stolen pair of scissors out from her pocket. 

He sat on one of the dusty crates that resided in the attic, full of who knows what. She should really go poking through them one of these days, see if there was anything useful in them. 

“I could always get someone else to do this, you know,” she said as she ran her fingers through his hair, experimentally pulling it back from his face. “I feel like Josephine or Varric could do better than I could.”

He shook his head. “I want you to do it.”

Whatever, if he wanted it he couldn’t complain if she messed it up. He wore a hat anyway, it didn’t matter that much. 

She supposed she had to start somewhere and so she took about an inch off of his hair, just enough so it wouldn’t hang into his eyes. She trimmed it practically, prioritizing letting him see over anything else. She kept the back mostly untouched, shaggy and long on the nape of his neck.

Speaking from a fashion sense, it was a travesty, but she doubted he cared that much in regards to fashion. Besides, it was a travesty before the haircut. It did what she needed it to do, it wasn’t like she couldn’t just cut it again in a week if it became a problem. 

“How much of me could you take before people wouldn’t see me anymore?” he asked, owl eyes looking up as if he was trying to see his own haircut.

“I promise you, I could cut off every last piece of hair and people would still recognize you.”

“People didn’t recognize you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not using blood magic on you so we shouldn't have that issue.”

There still was no mirror in the room so she directed him at the window where she looked at herself on occasion. “See,” she said, running her hands through it for him. “You can barely even tell. Plus, without it in your eyes, you can actually see yourself.”

He turned and pressed a kiss onto the bridge of her nose, hands cupping her cheeks gently. 

“What was that for?”

“You made sure I’d feel like me,” he said, hand shifting to feel the long hair at the nape of his neck. “You think it looks silly but it’s me and you didn’t want me to feel wrong.”

“I guess,” she said. “It’s really not a big deal. If you want to look stupid, that’s on you. I just didn’t want my soldier to be blinded by his own hair.”

He gave her a look, one that was more than familiar. One she’d seen many times before, usually from more disillusioned gentlemen. 

She burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you love me. Like really love me. That’s kind of embarrassing.”

Despite her outburst, he did not seem embarrassed by it, more confused than anything. “I thought you knew.”

She shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t poke around inside your head like you can with me.”

“You’re supposed to be able to read people,” he said accusationally. 

“You’re harder, you react to things weird. How did you not know what I didn't know? Can’t you see inside my head?”

“I can’t see everything, just things that hurt or things that help.”

He was being vague, intentionally talking around the truth. When they’d first met she’d taken everything he’d said as the same spirit nonsense, all just regurgitated thoughts and simple statements, none of his own input in them at all. 

Maybe that was true then, but now he would talk around things sometimes. Misdirect and tell her things that were almost answers. 

“You know full well that my thoughts on you often fall into both of those categories. There’s no way you didn’t know.”

“Sometimes I could see it. I almost told you on the roof, curiosity spinning through your head. That’s what it has to be. You can’t want, it would spit in the face of every time you didn’t. Wanting only hurts so you must be wondering. I loved you then too.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were scared. You would have run.” He was probably right. That’s what she usually did when things got too scary, although they tended to get scary in the other direction. 

Some part of her knew that wasn’t really the type of running he meant. She was safe and content here, she wouldn’t actually have booked it. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew she wouldn’t give that up because some spirit had developed something resembling a feeling.

It would have changed things though. She would have run from him. It would have made him another mark, revealing a weakness ready to be exploited. She would have jumped at the chance. 

“You have very little faith in me.”

“I’m right,” he said, brows furrowed, inevitably at least seeing pieces of her mental concession to his point. 

“I know. But that doesn’t negate the little faith thing,” she insisted. 

“You won’t run now,” he said, and it sounded like he believed it a little more than she did. 

“You’re sure of that?” she asked.

He nodded. “I can’t see it. Thoughts jumbling, tripping over themselves to blame and accuse in layers of lies. But I do have faith in you. You won’t run. Not anymore. Not with me.”

She wondered if he was lying. Maybe he could see into her better than he was letting on. Maybe he didn’t believe in her but simply knew. Maybe he was hedging his bets, telling her he had faith in her because it was the answer that he thought was most likely to convince her to stay.

Maybe she didn’t care. 

She leaned forwards and kissed him, hands raising to tangle themselves in freshly cut hair. 

He pushed into her eagerly, pressing up against her with every point of contact he could manage. In doing so, he seemed to incidentally grind his crotch against her, letting out a moan as he did and then going still. 

She giggled and went to tease him before something occurred to her. 

“You’ve never had sex before,” she said, like she was just now realizing it. She’d always known it, of course, but now it was really hitting her. 

“No,” he said. “I know how it works. I watch sometimes, people coming together. Flesh against flesh.”

Her hand flew over her mouth, stifling a shocked laugh. “You absolutely should not be doing that.”

His head cocked to the side. “Why not?”

“It’s meant to be private

“They never asked me to leave.”

She gave him a look that said they both knew no one was ever aware he was there. “You’re being disingenuous.”

“I was curious. I see lots of private things, I don’t know why this one is different.”

“Are you even interested in sex?” she asked, leaning back to really take him in. “I mean, besides in theory.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“That’s not even close to an answer. You’re being very evasive today,” she said, scrunching her nose up in playful displeasure. 

He shrugged, eyes down. “I don’t know. I don’t think I like it the way they do but you don’t like it the way they do either. I want to be close to you sometimes, want to touch and hold, but I don’t know what it’s tied to. It’s harder to see when it’s in my own head.”

He paused for a minute before speaking again. “I want to try,” he said, determination tinging his words. “But only if you want to try.”

Did she want to try? She’d never enjoyed anything resembling sex but then again, it had been ruined for her before she’d ever really gotten the chance. She’d never had someone she cared about before like this either, not really. 

Sometimes when she looked at him, when they kissed, she wanted more. It wasn’t desire, or if it was she couldn’t recognise it as such, but she did want more of him. 

“Yes,” Cole said. “Like that. But I don’t know how to know if we’ll like it if we never try.”

“Anything in particular catch your interest?” she asked, her voice light, trying desperately to mask the uncertainty that was winding inside of her gut. 

“In Varric's books-”

“Nope,” she said, cutting him off. “Bad frame of reference.”

“Why?”

“They’re not real. The stuff in them isn’t real.”

“I know,” he said, sounding almost mildly insulted. “But I saw something I wanted to try in there. Is that not what you were asking?”

“I guess. Can we not talk about Varric when we’re discussing sex?”

He cocked his head to the side. “I saw it in your head too, sometimes when you think about me. Fleeting but there. You’re scared if you think it too much it will sour. I thought that might be private too.”

“It is,” she said with a laugh, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I don’t mind though.”

She threw her arms over his shoulders and began to walk backward, sending them both tumbling onto the mattress. 

His arms caught him instinctively so he didn't crush her, his face inches above hers as she lay flat on the mattress. 

“Can I touch you?” he asked, breathlessly. “My hands want to touch.”

“I’m sure they do,” she said, grabbing his hands and sliding them under her shirt. He held her bare waist gently, keeping them where she placed them. They were soft, softer than they had been due to his insistence upon using her lotion now. They were also cold, although less cold then they had been when they’d done their little ritual. It was kind of nice, raising goosebumps in their wake everywhere they touched. 

She liked the way they felt against her, pressing gently while clearly wanting more. She selfishly wished he could mark her up, that next time Bull saw her he would know what had happened here. She wanted marks on her body that she actually wanted there. 

He whined a little, clearly reading the thoughts from her. His eyes were verging on desperate, looking down at her with a naked longing in his eyes.

“Can I touch you?” he asked again, and his hands flirted with the band of her pants. 

She nodded, doing her best not to tense as his hand slipped down her pants. 

His hand meandered, ever gentle in his exploration. It ran down the inside of her thigh and then back up to her lower stomach, pressing down tentatively. She let him, relaxing as she basked under the attention. 

When his finger grazed over her clit she jolted a little, the sexual context almost forgotten under the calm that had passed over her, besides the low burn of arousal she was almost shocked to find simmering inside of her. 

He paused but continued on, reading her eagerness from her easily. 

His hands meandered, brushing over all parts of her without real intent. He’d occasionally pass over a sensitive part of her, pulling a sharp intake of breath from her, but he kept moving, never lingering. 

And then he moved more intentionally and one of his fingers slopped inside of her and they both gasped at the same time, Cole’s eyes widening. “You’re so warm,” he said breathlessly. 

It was only one finger, so much less than she usually took. She didn’t know why it was affecting her like this, why she wanted it to stay so desperately. There was something grounding about it, about his presence inside of her. 

His fingers warmed inside of her, leeching her heat off of her. 

He moved his finger experimentally, hooking it up in a way that she was certain he’d stolen from the mind of some serving girl thinking about how she got herself off. She was relieved that at least that was where he was gathering his information from instead of cocksure stablehands. 

“Is this what you wanted to try from Varric’s books?” she asked with a laugh, hips pushing up into his hand a little, not wanting more but simply rising to meet him.

He shook his head. “No. I wasn’t sure if you’d want it.”

“Try me,” she said, emboldened by how much she was enjoying this. 

He wordlessly drew his hand out of her pants, falling to his knees beside the mattress and looking up at her with those big eyes. 

She moved to sit up and he laid his head on her thigh, eyes questioning. 

She knew immediately what he wanted and hooked her hands in her pants, pulling them down to her knees. 

He stared openly at her as soon as she was exposed, taking in everything between her thighs. 

The way he observed her, expression completely naked of any pretense, didn’t make her feel exposed. It felt like he was exposing as much of himself as she was exposing of her, everything safe inside their little attic. 

He moved towards her tentatively, hands moving to rest on her thighs. 

She nodded, despite the fact that she knew he could see every little twinge of emotion inside of her. 

He moved in suddenly, the second she gave him permission. 

He ate her out like he kissed, unsure but enthusiastic, eager to please. He seemed more interested in the exploration than anything else right now, tongue running along every bit of her, occasionally running up her thighs just because he could. 

She knotted her hands in his hair, not to move him in any way, just so she could feel him, to give her something to touch. 

It was nothing. He wasn’t moving either of them towards a climax, was barely rocking his hips, with nothing to get any friction against. It shouldn’t have made her feel anything. 

It was everything to her though. It was like he knew she needed this, the quiet exploration needed to occur before anything else could happen. 

His tongue brushed against her clit at just the right angle and she saw sparks, just for a second, a hum of something like pleasure forming inside her. 

And then she wasn’t there anymore. Then she was younger. 

They never meant it. Not really, not when they touched her like this. They just wanted her to want them and this was the quickest way to it, in their minds. It was easier when they were bad at it, quick and sloppy. It hurt more when they knew, when she started to feel good and couldn’t fight it. 

Cole was off her in an instant, sitting beside her on the bed, clearly hesitant to touch her.

“Sorry,” she said, legs snapping shut as she tried to come back to herself. 

“I hurt you,” he said quietly. 

“You did not,” she said, voice firm, leaving no room for questioning. “You did nothing wrong.”

He nodded, taking her at her word, and then laid down in the bed. 

“I can sleep now,” he said, clearly referring to the night before. “Do you want to sleep here again?”

“I should really be getting back to Bull,” she said, pulling her pants up. 

“Stay? Please?” he asked, and he shifted nervously in the bed. 

She wondered why he wanted it so badly. Was it the guilt from the way she was now? Was he emotional after his first time doing anything sexual? Or maybe his first time knowingly going to sleep he just wanted someone around. She supposed the concept of sleeping was a little frightening if you were unaccustomed to it.

“You think too loud,” he declared, and she laughed, collapsing into bed beside him. 

“Whatever. Don’t get used to this though, I can’t stay often.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. Just this once.”

She shifted on the mattress, getting comfortable beside him as they figured out how to lay beside one another properly, their legs getting tangled in the process. Admittedly, that was mostly her fault. 

“Can I try doing something to you next time?” she asked as she settled in. “I think I might like it more that way around, if I’m not involved at first.”

He nodded and she heard his breath hitch, just a little. She wasn’t sure if it was from interest or guilt, but she heard it and filed it away. Maybe she’d add it to her little book.

[impossible-rat-babies]

some thoughts below the cut now that I’m many hours into it (spoilers for the first 10-20 hours of the game)

—I haven’t recruited all the companions yet. I’m just missing two of them

—I also went into this thinking it’s gonna be cotton candy for my brain. yeah it’s gonna be tropey and corny, but there’s hopefully gonna be some good heart to it. And there is! there’s a great deal of heart in it, I can see it. I love the companions thus far, even if it feels like there’s….not been a lot of room to process what all is happening. I hope we get more conversations and them opening up.

—I think my biggest gripe is just the pacing right now. it’s so move, move, move one thing to the next to the next. even just in cutscenes it feels like the dialogue moves too quickly. some of the villian interactions could really use space between their sentences, and even their words to give weight and importance to scenes.

—like o said above, I’m sure there are gonna be more companion interactions, but the short little twenty minute scenes with them feel so. short? it’s the same sort of pacing issue as above. I hope to god we get some nice good long conversations with the companions. it’ll be hell on replay, but I still want that. I hope we get there with companion interactions.

—at least with the antivan crows, I like how the game is eager to acknowledge the connections and your role in the faction. it feels nice! I like it a lot.

—I will say that the game has moments of being very self referential, even to its own detriment at times. it’s kinda funny, like the cheese wheel in arthalan during bellara’s quest, but other times it feels…..I can see some of it getting lost on new players.

—I’m just gonna describe my issue: we go to places like Arlathan, and the crossroads and the fade. and there is acknowledgment of these places being fantastical, but not enough exploration into that it’s wild being here. like sure Jan. our home base is in the fade. that’s not utterly bonkers. sure it’s fine, rook. you live in the fade now. you use mirrors to move around from place to place. isn’t that wild? Do you love it when you hardly get to acknowledge how utterly buckwild that is, especially if you’re not a mage.

—the issue with the inquisitor and dialogue have come back to haunt rook. last verse same as the first. im scared to pick dialogue options bc i know I could pick the option that says “hi hello!” and rook could actually say “hi there motherfuckers!” (I’m gonna have to do so much workshopping of eshka’s personality outside of the game)

—the scenery is incredible. the mini maps are dogshit to navigate. horrid. it’s like Jedi the last order kind of dogshit map to navigate. the saving grace are the little dots that will lead you to your objective, but still. the mini maps are Trash

—the various puzzles around Arlathan are fun—I’ve enjoyed messing around in them quite a lot.

—the maps themselves feel like they are gonna open up over time as we collect companions, and move through the story and I’m not sure how I feel about it. The maps themselves kinda feel like. I’m a rat running through a maze. it doesn’t help that the mini map has no real character to it, so what I see on screen v what is in the mini map feel disconnected. It makes me miss Inquisiton map, or even bg3 map.

—in spite of all of this, I know I am early in the game and that there is still a great deal left to explore. I was looking at not spoiler achievements, and you can allocate 52 points into rook’s stats, so just by that I’m guessing there is a lot more. I’m just used to the likes of Inquisiton or bg3 where level cap is 27 and 12, respectively. (to be fair bg3 runs off the dnd leveling system). but considering I’m almost to level 20 and I’m still missing 2 companions, either I have done a great deal of exploring, or I’m on track. Im assuming the former, unless someone else has had experiences like mine

[lukedanger]

Owlcatober - Day 5 - Forgiveness (WotR)

Fifth day of @owlcatober

[Ao3 Link]

“I thought you’d be celebrating with Arueshalae.”

Elaina looked to the side, grimacing as she had to lower her right wing to see properly. Seelah, with two bottles in hand, one of which was already uncorked.

“Who’s to say we haven’t already?”

The other paladin chuckled, settling down on the ledge next to her. The army - both the celestial reinforcements they had brought to Iz and the mortal one they had managed to extract from the ruined city - was camped around a small plateau which was used as its center. The Sword of Valor flew proudly above, alas still not returned to Iomedae’s colors and crest even as it bathed the camp in heavenly light.

“So, that’s a second demon lord to your tally,” Seelah continued as she handed one of the bottles to her. 

Elaina gave the common ale a quick sniff, then took a drink. “You say it like I was the only one fighting them. The Holy Wardens contained Baphomet, and I seem to recall Deskari being brought low by a couched lance while I was pinned against a building.”

Seelah shrugged at first, loudly thanks to her plate harness, but smiled. “It’ll be a good story for the next fair, then. Might even be a good painting one day.”

They fell into relative silence, especially in contrast to the rest of the camp in various states of good spirit. Some of it were happy songs and reunions, others were in joyful tears as celestials walked among the crusaders again, and in strength rather than just the Hand’s select company or those summoned by clerics.

One angel was coming from the camp, clad in black robes with bronze trim, a halo like a north-south compass overhead as he (they?) glided over the ridge and landed several meters past them. Both paladins looked back and saw that they were striding towards the Sword of Valor. Or, perhaps, towards the former inquisitor kneeling beneath it.

“Balisse, right?” Seelah asked as she turned back.

Elaina nodded.

“Guess he needs a lot of forgiveness,” Seelah shook her head. “Speaking of that - are you really burying the hatchet with the Queen?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I remember how angry you were in the Abyss,” Seelah explained as she leaned forward. “Even with my own problems I could tell it hurt. You don’t have to actually forgive her, even if you gotta play politics.”

“I know,” she admitted, feeling her new wings flap in anticipation. “But what she said, back at the library? That was the last few pieces.”

“Come again?”

“You’re right, it did hurt. I had looked up to her since the abbey - we all enjoyed imagining ourselves a hero like her, Yaniel, or Zacharius. I had archived it away with all the other ‘what if’ dreams I had as a child, then, well,” Elaina held out her free hand, the light of Lariel’s sword materializing for a moment.

“You actually got to do it,” Seelah nodded as the light faded. “So, what she said about destiny and duty was what convinced you?”

“Somewhat,” Elaina admitted as she took another swig from her bottle. “Do you want me to walk you through it? It might be the easiest way to explain it.”

“Do I need to get Nenio first? For the Encyclopedia, of course.”

Elaina chuckled, “Maybe, but I’m sure she’ll pester it out of me later if she wants it.” The paladin sobered up. “At first I couldn’t understand it. What had I done wrong? Was it because of how I was trying to reform the Crusader ranks into something more cohesive? Was it Konomi, especially after she told me to treat Konomi’s words as her own?”

Seelah nodded along. She was well familiar with Elaina and Konomi going head to head over the Isger issue or the Knight-Commander endorsing the Royal Council, and how Sosiel’s suggested compromises were barely keeping things from escalating. The possibility that Galfrey had actually been in agreement with Konomi?

“In the end, you saw what she tried to use. Arueshalae and the Sword of Valor. As if the mission itself might not be enough to warrant it, temporarily. If we ever came back. I started to think the queen was more concerned about her own power, just like the Royal Council or the noble families. About being right rather than doing the right thing.”

“So what changed?”

“Something Yaniel said - that Galfrey was still much the same decades later, but broken. As if the decades had worn her down.”

Elaina took a long drink from her bottle. This was getting to the heart of the matter.

“You started to feel bad for her, didn’t you?”

“Somewhat,” Elaina admitted, “but I think what I really started to do was ask how she could have ended up like that. Started trying to see what I was doing from her perspective. Started thinking about some of the older brothers and sisters at the abbey, and how worn they were. How much worse is it for someone who has seen generations grow up and die under the shadow of the Worldwound? And without victories like Drezen along the way?”

“I get it: she was tired, then we showed up and yanked the rug out from under her, didn’t we?”

“Exactly. All while she was still stuck in the same rut of holding Mendev together while someone else won all the victories. And you know as well as I do how people refuse to consider keeping the Abyss contained a form of victory.”

“That’s the jealousy she mentioned,” Seelah was catching on now. “And after decades of just going through the motions, something in her snapped? She tried to step up again, but couldn’t as long as we were there. As long as you were Knight-Commander.”

“That was the last piece that put it all together. But I was already prepared to forgive her, because…” Elaina finished the bottle. “I would have been no better in her place. I hope I would be better, but if I had to go through the same thing? If I outlived all my friends and only had followers left? I probably would have made the same mistake.”

Seelah stayed silent, unsure of what to say in response to that. She settled for finishing her bottle as well.

[boytickler35]

Jedi Fallen Order: Return of the Ticklish Padawan

As Greez pulls his head out of the duct that he’s working in, a strange sound reaches his ears. With a frown he grabs one of his heavier wrenches and moves silently through the ship. Cere is off on a supply run so he and Cal are alone on the Mantis right now, and the kid is supposed to be sleeping.

When he approaches the sleeping quarters though, the sound grows louder and more distinct, coming from Cal’s room. Part of him is tempted to march in and demand to know what the kid is doing cause he’s supposed to be sleeping as in resting. The other part of him though is confused cause the sound is laughter, more freely than he’s ever heard from Cal before. He stands outside for a moment before nudging the door open.

Inside, the red head is laying out on his bed while the little oil leaker pokes and nudges at the kid’s sides emphatically while Cal lays and giggles, occasionally punctuated by a laugh when the droid hits a sensitive spot. Tickling. All of this racket caused by some tickling. He really never would have guessed that Cal, always stoic and somber in true Jedi fashion, would be ticklish. Come to think of it, he doesn’t remember ever hearing the young man’s laugh. Greez decides he likes the sound; it’s sweet, and genuinely happy, and clearly Cal’s enjoying this.

He lingers at the door debating what to do. The kid really should be sleeping after his fight with one of those Inquisitors but-he’s happy.

Finally he clears his throat.

The boy turns a pretty shade of red to match his hair and doesn’t say anything.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Guarded. He doesn’t blame the kid, being hunted for so many years would make anyone tense. It does sting a little, but he pushes that aside and continues the conversation.

“And this helps?”

He sort of gets a shrug, still standoffish and guarded and embarrassed.

“Well if it does, clearly your little buddy isn’t cutting it,” he advances on the bed menacingly, pulling the greasy, oil stained gloves off his hands, all four of them, and cracking his knuckles. He knows that if Cal really doesn’t want this, he’s more than able to stop it so he doesn’t feel bad.

His hands find the socked feet first, one sticking out from under the covers, the other not far from it. It’s easy when he gets close enough to pin both ankles and tickle with his other hands.

Cal yelps and laughs, more of the same happy sound mixed with a plea...or demand he can’t really tell, “GrHEhEhEhZE! SHthahAhAhAhAP!” The kid tugs his ankles back but not hard, not really even trying as far as he can tell.

“Nope, you made your bed, now lay in it.”

The socks are thick, good considering all the cold places he goes running off too, but wow. It’s impressive how ticklish he is with them still on. Greez scratches several nails against both feet and is pretty pleased with the reaction.

“KnOHahAocKIHehEHeheheITohAhoFF!”

He’s less pleased when the kid almost kicks him but hey, hazards of the job.

“Maybe I should move on up?”

Without waiting for an answer he grabs at the kid’s knees finding a new trove of nerves to exploit and continues bringing out the bubbling laughter and a lot of squirms as Cal rolls from side to side trying, maybe, to get away. With one hand he reaches up and pokes the kid’s belly, keeping the other three squeezing his legs. It takes a bit of leaning but he manages it and is rewarded by Cal trying to suck his tummy in as far as it’ll go and still not getting away.

By now the kid’s face is nearly as red as his hair but he’s smiling with glee not just from getting tickled but Greez stops anyway partly to give him a breather and partly cause the disappointed pout that spreads across his face is cute. It makes him look like the kid he is and not some solemn Jedi of the past.

“Done already?”

He almost laughs at the kid’s voice, trying to sound teasing and not disappointed but only partly succeeding, he doesn’t need the Force to know Cal is hoping for more. “I don’t have to be.”

“I mean-you can continue if you want.”

It’s sort of endearing how the kid won’t meet his eyes and he moves up again, now in prime position to attack both sides and both armpits and judging by the look on Cal’s face, he realizes as much.

It might be a little mean of him but he doesn’t give the kid an opportunity to back out and digs in. His fingers are pretty strong from years of working with picky, delicate machines and when he starts kneading the boy’s sides, the response is electric, thrashing and laughing wildly. Working Cal up is easy enough but he decides to wait until he’s got the kid good and squirming before getting into his armpits at the same time and that’s when he gets some real belly laughs.

“This what you were looking for kid?”

“GREhAheAHehAHss!”

“That’s my name.”

The best part about this is he can go as far as he wants, Cal is more than capable of stopping him if it gets too much.

He continues to drill the kid’s armpits and knead his sides, and occasionally when he feels like really getting him, he goes for the belly button. All told he works the kid over pretty hard.

“STAhAhAhAP!”

“Aww, what’s wrong I thought you liked this.”

He does though and gets a few more giggles that mingle with hiccups.

“Tired out yet?”

A surprisingly cocky smirk, “Not even close, old man.”

He huffs, feigning annoyance, “Bold words from a ticklish little pup. Let’s see how you handle it when I do this~”

In a smooth motion he strips both socks off. “Still feeling confident kid?”

“Maybe a little less?”

He lets out a chuckle and digs into the now bare feet and Cal’s laughter quickly overtakes his own. He wasn’t wrong when he thought the socks must be protecting some really ticklish feet because Cal lifts things with the Force several times involuntarily while getting tickled. It isn’t hard to see why either, despite the last ten or so years on the run, the feet are soft and sensitive.

Kid's lucky he’s a merciful man and doesn’t just focus on the toes because it’s obvious pretty quick those are his worst spots. The pad of each one is like a thermal detonator waiting to go off and he flicks at them here and there but not too often, only when he thinks Cal is getting used to the tickling. Other than them the rest of the kid’s feet are fair game, he scratches at Cal’s heels and the balls of his feet and pokes at the arches, earning a steady stream of laughter and squirming but never pulling away.

Cal isn’t even smart enough to keep his mouth shut and provokes him to new heights and he finds he really has no problem dishing out as much tickling as he can, moving up and down the kid’s body from his feet to his neck. In fact it isn’t until Cal yawns during his revisit to the terrible ticklish toe pads, one so powerful it overtakes his laughter and causes Greez to stop. He glances at the boy and Cal looks...probably tired enough to hibernate. Letting go of the kid’s feet he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and says awkwardly, “Sorry about that kid I guess I got carried away.”

He gets a hoarse chuckle, “You could say that.”

He hesitantly reaches out and smooths some of the silky reddish hair. He decides not to comment when Cal leans against his hand ever so slightly. “Well I’ll just see myself out, you’d better actually sleep now.”

The grin lingers, “I don’t think I'll have a problem with that thanks to you.”

He nods approvingly and goes to leave, but as he does Cal speaks again.

“Hey Greez?”

“Yeah?” He half turns to face the kid who’s now laying back, propped up on his elbows with an expression half thoughtful and half shy.

“You’re not as mean as you look.”

He reaches out and tweaks the kid’s big toe and replies, “You’re not as tough as you look kid, now I’m serious, go to bed or the metal monster and I will pin you down and make you.”

BD gives a pleased sound beep but hops over to Cal and snuggles up against his chest. Cal lays down fully and with a sigh Greez fixes the blanket over them. Gentle snores fill the room as he’s closing the door. He didn’t expect the kid to be so ticklish, much less get so much enjoyment out of it. It-well it’s kind of cute actually the way he let down his guards and looked like a blasted kid for a bit. He could get used to the Mantis being filled with that laughter too. It might be nice.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Dragontober: A Pocket Full of Gold

Day Six: Gold

Summary: There's a Lord of Fortune they call the name changer, who never keeps a name that long and who betrays anyone they work for. Of course, this isn't who they are, even if they'd probably like to keep people guessing.

Thirty-one single-word prompts, thirty-one one-shots/drabbles about Laidir, a rouge Lord of Fortune and the future leader of the Veilguard.

9:51 Dragon

 “There are no jobs right now.”

 “Well, that’s actual bullshit,” Len says as they flop into the couch Marcus kept in the office for the sole purpose of Len throwing themself onto it. He always humoured the dramatic actions Len had. He never said why, but the ring with the old crest Len once wore and once saw on Antoniette’s brother’s finger was telling in itself. “Not even that pirate?”

 “Admiral Isabela is busy with the Viscount of Kirkwall.” Marcus looks up with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want-“

 “Fuck no. I ain’t going near that guy. Every time he’s around, something happens. He was with the Champion and then the Inquisitor.” Len says instantly. “I just want money. Easy gold, not having to chase dragons or whatever.”

 “It’ll be hard to get money if you don’t,” Marcus says as he writes something down. “Monster slaying is what’s keeping us in the clear. That and pirating.”

 “What’s wrong with a good old-fashioned temple looting?” Len complains. 

 “The fact there may actually be Dalish Gods running around?” Marcus asks. Len rolls their eyes. The rumours of the Inquisitor’s fuck buddy being an elven god were weird.

 “Is there anything I can do to get things back to how they should be? Making me money?” Len complains.

 “Take a job from Varric Tethras,” Marcus jokes.

 “The day I do that, I pick a name and stick to it the rest of my life.” Len declares.

 “I’ll pay to see that!” Marcus laughs.

(A mission comes in on behalf of a noble Rivain a few months later. Marcus takes it, and the former Len is thrilled to actually be working.

 They never knew how it would change their life.)

[imogenkol]

— WIP PRETEND IT’S WEDNESDAY

tagged by mine lovelies @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies @corvosattano @adelaidedrubman @simonxriley

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @florbelles @marivenah @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @v0idbuggy @aceghosts @jillvalentinesday @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree

Slowly chipping away at this whumptober thing I’m working on. Who knows if it’ll actually be ready for October, but hey! It’s angsty af and I’m having some fun with the pain. Here’s a snippet that could be considered a crossover, but these two characters share something in common

Bix never would have imagined herself at a dusty saloon in the Outer Rim with such dire circumstances hanging over her head. Loud music reverberated through the floor and into the soles of her boots. Its low, lively beat reminded her of Cavo’s back home and she wished she could go to the bar and simply drown her worries in a few strong drinks. But that empty radio signal echoed in her mind, pounding inside her skull with more vibrato than the speakers, so she pushed the nostalgia and longing aside.

The mechanic scanned the crowd of colorful travelers and soon realized she had practically nothing to go on when it came to finding the Jedi Imogen mentioned only a few brief times. The former Inquisitor hadn’t really bothered to describe him outside of his so-called meager abilities. Bix only came here because of the subtle fondness she picked up on in Imogen’s voice during her recollection. Cal was Bix’s only chance, of that, she was certain.

Deciding on a more direct approach, she went to the bar and waved down the bartender droid. It smoothly zoomed over to her end and animated excitedly. 

“Welcome to Pyloon’s Saloon! The name’s M-6NK, but my friend’s call me Monk,” the droid introduced in a peppy tone. His optic winked — or, rather, blinked since there was only one — and the tank of alcohol behind his head sloshed as he whirled his mechanical arms with a flourish. “What can I do ya for?”

“I’m looking for someone.” Bix did a quick check around the saloon for eavesdroppers before she leaned in with a hushed tone. “I think he’s a Jedi?”

“Haven’t seen any Jedi ‘round here in a couple centuries or so,” Monk said, his extra dispenser arms filling up a couple of glasses. 

The possibility that she may have come all this way for nothing and wasted precious time doing it felt like a heavy blow to the chest. Bix would not give up so easily, though. Imogen never gave up on her. “Look, it’s really important. His name is Cal.”

“Sorry, doesn't ring a bell!” Something in the droid’s voice sounded a little too eager to dismiss her questions. “I can whip you up something to drink, though! And we have a full menu!”

Bix shook her head, getting increasingly desperate. “I’m not trying to cause trouble, I just need his help. Badly.”

“If you don’t want to drink and you don’t want to eat, I’m afraid there’s not much else I can do,” the droid said with a shrug.

“That’s fine, I’ll… ask around, I guess,” Bix replied dejectedly. Her fist tapped the surface of the bar as she pushed away from it with a frustrated sigh and faced the other patrons. There had to be dozens. If she had to bet, none of them had loose lips. 

Back on Ferrix, Bix learned how to make hard sales with all kinds of business people and travelers. She knew what to say and how to put her foot down. Here… Well, the hardened explorers of the Outer Rim barely paid her a second glance once she started to prod them for information on a Jedi of all things. The mechanic might attract the wrong kind of attention if she persisted, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She might as well be chasing a fairytale. 

Bix eventually found herself back at the bar, taking a generous swig of something bitter and strong. She let the liquid burn on her tongue before it scorched its way down her throat and settled in her stomach with a heavy warmth. It started to look like she would have to infiltrate the Empire herself. Whatever it took, she decided. 

“Why are you looking for a Jedi?” a male voice asked. 

Bix turned to see a man with reddish-brown hair and a close cropped beard sat in the stool right beside her. He studied her closely, but his demeanor was calm and non-threatening. She threw up her hand. “I don’t know. It feels like a fool’s errand, but I don’t have a lot of options.”

He shrugged. “Who knows? I might be able to point you in the right direction.”

The mechanic carefully regarded the stranger who appeared to be a lot more forthcoming than any of the others. A small spark of hope ignited in her chest. “Do you know the Jedi?”

“I’d like to know who’s asking, first.”

“Honestly, if I tell you, he might want absolutely nothing to do with it.”

“Try me,” the stranger urged with a friendly grin. 

“He knows my girlfriend. Imogen.” At the sound of her name, the man’s body suddenly tensed and his eyes widened just a fraction. Bix knew the name drop might cause issues given Imogen’s past, but she continued to make her case and silently prayed that hadn’t ruined her chances. “They have a… history. I need his help to find her.”

A flicker of recognition came across the stranger’s features as if he finally saw the woman in front of him. “You’re Bix.”

“I –” Bix stopped her sentence short and blinked in confusion as she struggled to put the pieces together. Then it clicked. She finally saw the man – the Jedi – too. “You’re Cal.”

He rose from his seat and motioned for her to follow. “We should talk in private.”

Bix hopped to her feet and noticed a small, two-legged explorer droid scurry from the surface of the bar up Cal’s arm to perch on his shoulder. It beeped low into his ear and Bix picked up on the concern the droid expressed about her presence in binary. Cal quietly assured the BD unit as he walked on. 

“How did you know my name?” Bix asked while she tagged along.

“Imogen talked about you,” he said, glancing back at her. “She didn’t say much, but more than a few sentences and a name told me how much you really mean to her.”

Bix let out an amused breath, but her warm smile was genuine. “I could say the same about you.”

“I mean about as much to her as one of her bounties.” 

“Well, you’re still alive and not imprisoned. Knowing her, that’s holding you in pretty high regard.” 

“I guess,” he chuckled. 

They walked through a door that led to the back of the bar. Bix smelled the line of cooked meals before she saw it. She didn’t realize how appetizing the food would be until they passed by the plates of steaming meats and vegetables. She’d barely eaten the entire journey to Koboh and pictured all the times Imogen had urged her to eat when she was too deep in her own head. As they descended a curved flight of stairs, Bix made a mental note to refuel after their conversation.

The music upstairs faded as Cal led her into a quaint basement room. The small space was impressively outfitted. She saw a comfortable bed, a workbench, even a terrarium. Bix wished her home back on Ferrix had been this cozy. She could have at least had a plant.

“So, what’s going on?” Cal asked, coming to a stop in the middle of the room. 

“Imogen had some business on Coruscant. She went radio silent. It’s been too long, I –” Bix nearly choked on her next words. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms before she could voice her theory. Saying it out loud made the probable fear all the more horrifying. “I think the Empire might have her.”

Cal remained silent for a long time, his thoughts thoroughly shielded behind the unreadable expression on his face. He placed his hands on his hips and his gaze dropped with a long sigh. “I’m sorry. Really, I am,” he said sincerely as he looked back up at her. Remorse shone in his eyes. “But if they have her… she’s either dead or turned.”

“She isn’t dead,” Bix insisted confidently.

“You can’t know that for certain.”

“I do know,” she snapped. “She told me I’d feel it if she was gone.”

He didn’t argue against that point despite how crazy it might have sounded to anyone else. Instead, he said something far more offensive. “Then she’s probably an Inquisitor again.”

The mechanic stared the Jedi down. Bix couldn’t blame him for this assumption after everything Imogen had done just to him alone, but she absolutely hated the lack of hesitation in his response. “She wouldn’t.”

“Do you know how most of the Inquisitors were made?” Cal asked patiently, his expression shifting from remorse to pity. “They tortured Jedi to corrupt them and turn them to the Dark Side. Imogen didn’t need that kind of convincing the first time around. How do you think the second will go?” 

The revelation made Bix’s stomach flip and her hands shake. She crossed her arms tighter around herself to hide it. “She’s stronger than you give her credit for.” 

“She’s strong in a very dangerous way.” 

Bix stepped closer to him, her fear and desperation palpable enough for him to sense in the air around them. “I need to find her and I don’t know if I can do it without your help. Please. At least tell me where to start looking.”

“If they have her, then…. I know exactly where she is,” Cal admitted. He held up a hand as Bix brightened with conviction to keep her expectations in check. “It is the last place in the entire galaxy you want to be, Bix. I don’t think Imogen would want you to be in the same system, much less in the stronghold itself.”

“I want her back, Cal,” Bix said with fierce intensity while she still held his gaze. “Tell me.”

“The Fortress Inquisitorius on Nur,” he answered grimly as if that all but confirmed her death sentence.

[daitranscripts]

The Verchiel March Pt. 1

A Favor

Sera Masterpost

The PC approaches Sera in her room.

Sera: Hey, you! I have an “Inquisitor favor” to ask. Just a little thing, really. A little march-around for some of your people. It’s nothing for you, right?

Dialogue options:

General: Resources are precious. [1]

General: I’m listening. [2]

General: Details first. [3]

1 - General: Resources are precious. PC: I can’t promise anything. We need every resource for the task at hand. Sera: Everything has to have a purpose, right? Well, don’t worry, this will, too. [4]

2 - General: I’m listening. PC: All right, let’s hear what you’ve got. Sera: Jump right in, huh? I like that. [4]

3 - General: Details first. PC: I won’t agree to anything without details. Sera: Smart of you. I wouldn’t dream of wasting your super-important time. [4]

4 - Scene continues.

Sera: It’s a Red Jenny thing. I got a tip that some noble stiffs are arguing over Verchiel. Land squabble. They’re getting little people beat up, so I need you to go to your big table and send some people to walk through town.

PC: Just walk through?

Sera: Just walk through. Easy, right?

5 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: Who told you about this? [6]

Investigate: Who would I be working for? [7]

Investigate: What’s in it for me? [8]

General: I’ll have people take a look. [9]

General: I can’t do this now. [10]

6 - Investigate: Who told you about this? PC: Was this a tip from one of your “friends”? Sera: Not a Jenny. Just normal angry people getting sick of being in the middle. I don’t usually hear about things this far away, but having a friend like you is like getting real big ears.

Sera (Dalish PC): Bigger than normal, I guess, because we both… never mind. [back to 5] Sera (non-Dalish PC): Bigger ears, I guess. Shut up. [back to 5]

7 - Investigate: Who would I be working for? PC: Who is asking for this? Sera: I’m asking, because I heard people complaining. See, when nobles fight, it’s not them. It’s their little people stuck in the middle. It’s like a polite war, so no one pays attention. But if you march through, the people up top feel threatened, too. Stuff like this is always happening. Good sovereigns to be made if you’re one of the few who notice. [back to 5]

8 - Investigate: What’s in it for me? PC: What does the Inquisition get out of this? Sera: Nobles think everyone is out to get them, so when your helmets march through, both sides’ll think the other’s your ally. Both get scared, both make deals. Worst case, you get a little bump among the people just because they see you active. Can’t promise anything, but something will happen. Just like always. [back to 5]

9 - General: I’ll have people take a look. PC: All right, Sera. I’ll have someone look into it. Sera: It’s fun, right? Being important without doing a thing? Well, not much of a thing. Not everything has to be torn skies and ancient arseholes. Every little thing makes a difference somewhere. Scene ends.

10 - General: I can’t do this now. PC: I can’t commit people to something like this just out of the blue. Sera: Fair enough, I suppose. I mean, you’re busy. It’s hard to find time to tell people to do one thing. That was me saying the opposite of what I meant, yeah? Because this is easy? Never mind. I bet it’ll stew for a while if you change your mind. Idiots don’t calm down on their own. Scene ends.

If the PC talks to Sera again after declining the quest Sera: You ready to listen to that territory squabble thing in Verchiel? It’s a pissy noble thing. [5]

Next: Deal Gone Bad

[guardian-andi]

Chapter 6: Leap of Faith

Andi awoke with a jolt.

He looked around as his surroundings came into focus. He felt the tight restraints around his hands and the crash bar holding him to the seat as the ship shuddered and shook. He looked around the ship and saw he was strapped into one in a row of seats, all were unoccupied. His staff was leaned up against a corner on the far side, near what was he guessed was the boarding ramp. The ship shook again, the roar of the engines only adding to the cacophony as he recalled the events before, how he was captured. Taken in by that woman, cloaked in the shadow of the dark side. His jaw ached as he remembered the swirl of emotions he had sensed, half hidden by darkness. For a moment he could see the true person behind this agent of the empire. He could still feel these emotions in the ship, the sensation of fear emanated from the pilot station. He turned towards the cockpit, seeing the same figure at the controls, dark smoke like tendrils emanating off her and masking her presence to him. Yet she was not fully consumed by this darkness, there was still a core of swirling emotion in her. Fear mixed with sadness and confusion. But there was something else, something buried underneath all the rampant emotion. As he tried to delve deeper, sifting through that sea of feeling he felt the familiar resonance as their minds briefly connected. The woman suddenly whipped around, staring right at him as she clearly detected his intrusion into her soul. 

“Look who finally decided to come around” 

She tapped a couple buttons on the control panel before standing up and walking towards him. She sat in the seat across from him, resting her arms on her knees and leaning forward.

He couldn’t see her face, only able to achieve that level of detail when surrounded by the living force. But he could tell she was clad in armor of some kind, her silhouette having a hard bulk to it that couldn’t have been normal clothes. Her left hand was covered by a gauntlet with sharp claws at the fingertips. From what he could tell she had short hair, clean cut but not styled beyond that. 

“How are you feeling?”

Andi sat back against the seat, simply sitting with his hands set calmly on his lap. If she wanted information, he knew better than to give her what she wanted. Defiance was his best weapon.

“Not feeling talkative? I get it, I know I sure wasn’t.” she said casually, sitting up and resting one leg on the other. 

“But speaking from experience, talking is your best chance at making it through this.”

She waited for a moment, seemingly waiting for Andi to respond. Once she saw he had no intention of indulging her, the inquisitor continued.

“You’re probably wondering where we’re going. Well, it seems like something about you interested my master, and he requested to meet you personally.”

At the mentioning of this master, a jolt of fear broke through the dark side barrier surrounding her form, betraying her casual tone. 

“Now according to imperial records, you were a temple guard during the purge, but I was under the impression all guards within the temple were killed. How did you slip through the cracks I wonder? Maybe you just got lucky. Or maybe you’re a coward… who hid while the temple burned around you”

Andi’s fists clenched, he tried to push down the anger rising within his chest. The guilt that he couldn’t do anything during the order’s greatest time of need. His thoughts were torn away as he felt that all too familiar resonance as she probed his soul.

“So, you do feel something. Hold on to that anger, it’ll give you strength.”

A tone rang from the cockpit, drawing the inquisitor’s attention. 

“You’re going to need it”

She stood up and walked towards the controls, taking a seat and guiding the ship. With a thunk and a final rumble from the engines, the ship settled down as they finally landed. The crash bar unlocked and rose up, freeing Andi from the seat. The woman walked over to him and hauled him up by the arm and walking him towards the landing ramp. She grabbed his staff with her other hand as the ramp lowered in front of them, harsh wind howling into the ship.

 The inquisitor shoved him down the ramp. He walked out and found himself among the ruins of an ancient structure, with the sound of waves crashing indicating they were on some kind of island. Among the ruined building to his right, he could see the silouhette of a deep pit, going down for who knows how far. But that wasn’t what worried him. Andi stopped, fear freezing his limbs and chilling his blood as before him he saw a pitch-black silhouette. The wisps of darkness emanating off this figure blurred the outline around him. As if the corruption sucked the any trace of the living force from the very air around him.

Andi felt a hand on his shoulder followed by a kick to his calf and bringing him down to his knees. He saw the woman kneel down next to him, bowing her head.

“As promised Grand Inquisitor, Padawan Andime Endari.” 

With her proximity to him, Andi could feel the same fear as his own flowing through her as the man in front of them walked calmly towards the prisoner, both hands clasped behind his back.

“Thank you, 12th Sister”

His voice was smooth with an almost regal tone. It sent chills down Andi’s spine, the last time he had heard this voice, it had come from behind the mask of the temple guard. A role Andi was once destined to fulfill. The Grand Inquisitor stopped in front of him, motioning for the pair for them to stand with a simple hand gesture. The 12th Sister hurriedly stood up, pulling Andi to his feet once more. Andi simply stared towards the ground, not wanting to once again gaze upon the man who had slaughtered his brethren.

With one fast motion the Pau’an grabbed Andi’s face by the jaw, analyzing his features. The inquisitor hummed.

“Ah, I remember you.”

Those words sent another wave of fear through Andi, he struggled against the Inquisitor’s grasp to no affect. He could feel the fear of the 12th Sister beside him, noting a surprising amount of concern swirling within her.

“The final student of a far too ancient lesson”

Calling upon the force, the Grand Inquisitor tossed the Miraluka towards the pit. Andi hit the ground hard, slamming onto the stone floor.

“I thought I had tossed you out with the rest of the trash that burned that night.”

The inquisitor pulled Andi’s staff from his subordinate’s grasp, looking it up and down. 

“How the mighty have fallen. Our kind used to wield such an elegant weapon. But here you are, using a simple stick.”

With a loud crack, he broke the staff over his knee and tossed the shattered remains towards the cowering Miraluka. Andi lunged to the pieces grabbing each one before finding a piece that hummed in his hand. He held it close and backed away from the Inquisitor as the Pau’an walked calmly towards him. 

“Now, you have a choice before you. Either you join us and rise above the bygone dogma of the Jedi.”

Andi got to his feet holding the piece of his staff firmly in his hand, it’s humming growing more intense, as if begging him not to listen.

“Or I finish the task I was given 2 years ago”

The inquisitor activated his light saber, an angry his emanating from the blade. With the pit at his back Andi attempted to move along the edge, hoping for an opening he could run through. As he did, he was met with the now familiar form of the 12th Sister, her saber creating a hiss of its own. 

“You know there’s only one way out of this. Please, make the right choice.”

Her tone was almost pleading, her soul twisting with guilt and sorrow. Andi hesitated, his heel approaching the rim of the pit. 

“You would no longer need to run; we can give you purpose again”

The inquisitor’s sympathetic tone was contrasted by the churning anger and hatred flowing from his soul. As much as he hated to admit it, Andi considered their offer. Even for a brief second, Andi thought about the possibility of joining them and being part of a team once more. But something began to call to him from the bottom of the hole behind him. Like an ancient melody, it chased those ideas from his mind. He remembered his duty, his will to protect those who had escaped the wrath of the empire. His urge to avenge the purpose that he was to pledge his life to. For a moment Andi shoved the fear from his mind.

“I once pledged my life to the protection of the Jedi order, and I will not break that pledge like you did”

Anger began to fill the outline of the Grand Inquisitor. Andi jumped off the ledge, pushing with the force against the Inquisitors in the same moment. He pulled his staff piece close, holding it to his chest as he fell into the depths.

[thats-it-im-fallingdown]

I’ve posted my first time viewing thoughts on season 1 of rebels, now here’s the same for the first half of the second season!

first of all: @intrepidmare commented that the reason why rebels animation gets a lot of flack compared to tcw is because it had a smaller team and budget and less production time, but that it improves in later seasons (hablo un poquito español, lo siento!). i should clarify, i don’t think the animation for rebels is all bad, I’m actually very fond of how much more fluid it is! familiar stuff looks really off to me right now (stormtroopers, lando, obi wan, lightsabers), newer stuff looks better (the grand inquisitor, hera). i didn’t like tcw style at first either. it took me time to get used to it, but i did. i bet that by the end of season 4, I’ll have stopped complaining about it.

Siege of Lothal duology

-they’ve stopped translating karabast into caramba in the captions. huh.

-tua seems more frightened by tarkin than vader? politicians are strange creatures no matter what galaxy you’re in I guess

-it makes sense that kanan doesn’t want to get involved in a wider scale conflict, as a Jedi he probably had more direct experience fighting in the clone wars, so he’s more disillusioned with armies and wars than hera is. of course the small scale Robin Hood stuff is more his speed. also, i love how they feel like real adults with different outlooks on life. sabine and ezra are great, but i can’t stand most teenagers (and i literally am one!)

-alright, I’m at the 10:39 mark and I’m betting now that the secret other reason for lothal’s importance is kaiburr mining. it would explain why a seeming backwater planet is so important to the empire to justify sending vader and tarkin, why there’s a Jedi temple there, and ezra finding a crystal in said temple. maybe I’m right, maybe I’m wrong.

-all this about what zeb smells like, even from himself, and i still have no idea what he smells like. bad like a wet space dog? something else?

-vader baby! i know it’s a departure from live action, but i like the red eye pieces, they seem more realistic for looking out of

-damn Vader’s tall. i keep forgetting that

-“if that doesn’t kill him what will?” “not us” kanan, you have no idea how true that is

-burning the refugee camp to the ground.. we’re pretty far away from stealing fruit noe

-the way they all go with Hera to fight vader, Hera straight up saying “alright kids do mom and dad proud”… this show was literally designed for me to vicariously experience a unified family. fellow “my dad went to get milk and never came back” kids, children of divorce, and/or people who have been disowned by their families how are we feeling. this show definitely isn’t perfect but it’s some of the best escapism for me in particular. screw that team as family but they’re just close friends, team as family found family is where it’s at

-oooo, ahsoka and anakin back in each other’s orbits. i can’t wait! this is shaping up to be a great season already

The lost commanders, relics of the old republic

-ahh, so this is where filoni gets his reputation for cameos. i can’t really blame him, since as a Star Wars fan and writer myself, i couldn’t say i wouldn’t want to write stuff with my favorite characters. since this is an ensemble show (unlike andor, per se, which benefits from focusing on andor with others in the periphery), my opinion is that it’ll work out as long as our original cast doesn’t get crowded out. aladdin bridger and the rest of his family are who I’m interested in watching at the end of the day after all!

-(I saw that rex was in this one from the episode description) I’m curious as to how/why rex and ahsoka got separated?

-I’m digging Sabine’s new hairstyle, it works for her

-i get that it’s for dramatic tension, but i don’t see why ahsoka isn’t just. telling them who they’re looking for, especially since she’s not going along with them. they don’t know him! if you don’t tell them rex is a clone at least how would they know who they’re looking for?

-sweet walker they’ve got, really reminiscent of the republic walkers. heck, that’s what it is under years of homemaking

-I really like how kanan still doesn’t trust them completely by the end of the arc. he’s moving in that direction, but order 66 is not something that can be forgiven in a day, even taking the chips into account. not being something that’s neatly resolved in an episode it gives it more weight, and kanan feels like a deeper character for it.

Always two there are

-commander fruit. I’m reminded that this show is a gold mine for expanding the worldbuilding in the produce aisle

-the grand inquisitor isn’t dead, is he. no body, cryptic final message, he’s gonna show up again.

-i like how these inquisitors are kind of incompetent. they aren’t getting a full sith course load, and they dropped out of Jedi college. of course they aren’t the best and brightest!

-i may be. unreasonably fond of zeb. i can’t really say why? he’s big. he’s purple. his older brother energy is off the charts. he survived a genocide. he’s comic relief. he smells bad. he’s literally me. he reminds me of one of my uncles. what more can i say?

Brothers of the broken horn

-man this hits a little too close to what being fifteen years old is like. ezra, you have got to get a day planner, they’re silly but they work! that’s also my advice to my ten followers. if you keep forgetting stuff, planner planner planner. no writing it down on scratch paper or making a “mental note.”

-the classic ship in distress trap. very familiar to a Trekkie such as myself, but is less common in the gffa.

-first he’s Jabba the Hutt, now he’s lando Calrissian. forget Jedi training or blaster practice ezra needs to learn how to make up fake names on the fly

-why is the empire shooting at them? they’re bad guys, but i don’t think they’re fire on broken vessels even if they happen to be on one of their checkpoints bad guys

-hondo’s jaw horns have grown with age. makes sense, but looks both strange and inconvenient

-chopper’s homicidal tendencies make him great backup

-how have none of them hit red guy? he’s enormous! he’s bigger than the broad side of a barn and moves just as slow

-fun episode, but i think they could have focused more on how ezra has changed since getting involved with the rebels. the last lines he has with kanan feel like they’re hastily trying to clean up the flaws in the writing at the last minute mark

Wings of the master

-a blockade episode, classic star wars. there aren’t as many distinct episode conventions like there are for Star Trek, but there are a few. the blockade mission is one of them.

-Hera backstory! Hera backstory! I repeat, we have a hera episode incoming!

-i hope we learn more about her childhood on ryloth during the clone wars. I’ve always been interested by the bits and pieces of Twi’lek world building I’ve read, and the ryloth liberation arc from tcw was one i liked. also, i really like hera’s character.

-kanan asks ezra “are you in” about the supply run in the phantom but the Spanish subtitle is closer to “are you with me” (i think. i think that’s how best to translate conmigo)

-quarrie’s a fun character for a one off. biased because I’m an engineering student and he’s an engineer character who actually acts similar to a real one (yes, this is a tony stark callout. we don’t act like that) also, he’s just plain charming

-now that’s a funky ship. i like it!

-why don’t the rebels divide the supplies up on multiple ships? then it would have the same flaws as a video game payload mission

-okay, so it wasn’t a full Hera Episode, but I’ll take it anyways

Blood Sisters

-sabine, the brightly painted mandalorian… selected for a mission which needs a low profile

-and the way they’re finding this courier is by asking a bunch of people in the port an unusual code? that seems like the opposite of low profile too

-ketsu’s haircut is… hilariously bad. good lord, what’s wrong with a buzz cut if you want to keep it practical?

-i like the backstory we’re getting with sabine a lot

-I’m also noticing that basically all of the human characters who aren’t imperial are poc. Star Wars is still allergic to brown eyes, which is kind of colorist (featurist? is there a term for colorism that includes physical attributes that aren’t skin tone?), but credit where it’s due. kallus is the white person who shows up the most. (I’m not including non human characters in this assessment, since coding is more finicky for them when in animation) i only noticed when ketsu took off her helmet

Stealth strike

-“gravity well projectors” look don’t take this the wrong way but this is what i mean when I say Star Wars doesn’t feel like science fiction. Star Trek would have pretended to explain it and dune would meticulously plot out how this changes warfare

-i see that this episode was set up to put Rex and kanan in a Situation. and i am totally on board this conflict is so juicy

-i had almost forgotten how much I like rex, but him knowing the emergency codes brought back memories of his clone wars version.

-i wonder if he ever met luke or leia knowing that they were padme and anakin’s children

-holy shit ezra really did sound like hera for a second when he was breaking up rex and kanans squabbling

-they keep calling ezra jabba even after they learn his real name i feel like my brain is leaking out of my ears

-Ezra’s really gotten good at using a lightsaber

-well. guess ezra shouldn’t have told that stormtrooper he wouldnt die in his escape. seeing as the ship was blown to smithereens

The future of the force

-oh there is something wrong with that baby’s face

-“if i never see one of those things again it’ll be too soon” was translated as “espero no ver otra de cosas por toda la eternidad” which directly (if I’m not mistaken) translates to “I hope to never see one of those things again for all eternity” interesting! i wonder if that means Spanish doesn’t have a more direct equivalent to the English phrase “if I never [x] it’ll be too soon?”

-I’ll remember this show as the one that taught me ayudar (to help)

-chopper the baby exploding pile of bolts

-aww, the ithorian baby is so cute. heck, the ithorians just look way cuter in the rebels style. in live action they’re much slimier (which isn’t bad either!)

-also lugar, which means place. this show is pretty good for picking stuff up since I’ve already taken a class on the basics plus growing up with it in my home, even though I was never allowed to actually acquire it

-ahsoka ex machina

-this is shaping up to be a multi part thing, so I expect that some of my questions will be answered: the empire’s presence isn’t as strong in the outer rim, same as the republic, so how are they tracking these force sensitive infants down, especially after the Jedi (and to a lesser extent the force itself) were wiped from memory? and if they’re taking babies, how many have been partially inducted into the dark side by the fall of the empire? are some of them running around, ripe for stories in which they’re villains with potential for redemption after the fall of the empire? there’s so much potential

Legacy

-no room in the budget for pajamas or blankets i see. aren’t you guys the opposite of cozy

-and this show is responsible for teaching me ghost (fantasma)! i can’t believe i forgot. and fleet (flota), and message (mensaje). don’t worry, this won’t turn into a Spanish vocab lesson!

-I was almost certain Ezra’s parents were dead, or if not would die shortly after because.. well, the same reason beru and lars had to die, it’s the classic story move. but that doesn’t diminish the emotional weight of the reveal that his parents are dead because of how excited he gets when there’s hope, and how he openly cries when it’s left him

-the shot of the plain on Lothal after the scene where Ryder is introduced is beautiful visually. natural land and skyscapes is where rebels really shines

-what a lovely episode! sad, but lovely

And this is where I’m wrapping up for now! I’m halfway through season 2, and legacy is a natural midpoint. Thank you for reading this far, making these posts is pretty fun for me :)

[herearedragons]

WIP Whenever tag

...so @greypetrel tagged me in a WIP game (thanks!), but the truth is that I. don't really do wips. in the sense that I usually spend a lot of time planning out a thing in my head and then draw/write it in as few sittings as possible, so I usually don't have any WIPs to show(unless it's a longfic, but I don't have any at the moment)

Buuut I still wanted to do the tag, so I'll just share some ideas for future things and one ongoing project that kind of qualifies for a WIP, I guess!

Tagging @ndostairlyrium, @dungeons-and-dragon-age and @shaykai.

Ideas for future things:

several DA-themed song lyric illustrations: Under Pressure for my 4 inquisitors, Muse - Blockades for Kyana, Twenty One Pilots - Ride for Aqun in Trespasser (it's going to make sense when I draw it), Fall Out Boy - Expensive Mistakes for Adina (this song does not fit her as a whole but a specific line in a specific context would make for a really nice illustration). I hope to actually do at least one of those.

a fanart piece for Mistfits and Magic (a ttrpg show I finished watching yesterday) that's kind of complex for what I usually draw, but it's a cool idea so I might do it when I have the time (so, not anytime soon)

I wanted to do this thing where a few artists drew their DA characters talking about their weird hobbies over a meal, so I will do that, just extremely late

Ongoing project:

I'm currently trying to post writing as close to daily as possible during August! I'll have to skip the next few days, but I've managed to keep up otherwise. I'll leave some of my favorite lines that I've written so far here. (I'm posting a separate short thing every day, but I think that still counts as a WIP since they're parts of a bigger project)

“Come on, it’ll be easy,” May’s double says. “You’re already so much like me.” Her voice changes, becomes Blackwall’s, then Cassandra’s, then Mother Giselle’s. “You’re already trying to make yourself into other people.” (x)

Adina pushes past him (he moves out of the way instinctually), downs one of her lyrium bottles and reaches a hand in the same direction the arrow went. An orange glow starts in her eyes, travels down her throat and into the outstretched hand, growing in intensity, until a sphere of fire forms between her fingers and flies howling into the fog. (x)

“...Wow,” Harding says after a moment. “You know, I bet you’re good at telling ghost stories.” Neilar laughs. “Thanks. This one is a real story, though.” “Well, it does have a spooky ending. Still - I’ve got to give it to the clan, that was resourceful. What happened to them?” “I don’t know,” Neilar admits. “Could be disease, or another sacking, or a natural disaster. Sometimes a clan just… doesn’t show up for the Arlathvhen anymore. That’s a meeting of the clans that happens every once in a while,” he adds, foreseeing the question. (x)

[trevisos]

okay here are my thoughts on finishing veilguard while i try to decide if i’m going to start my new rook or just immediately restart with magpie

i didn’t actually think i would be right about varric having been dead the whole time man. i wasn’t at all mentally ready to be right about that one. i Did cry. i love u varric. i also rly assumed davrin was going to die killing the archdemon?? so i guess if u choose harding there she beefs it instead??? horrible. and ASSAN JUMPING IN AFTER HIM…… OUGH.

the choice to send neve to disable the ward really sealed the deal on magpie’s run being Neve’s Horrible No Good Very Bad Day (But She Gets Laid). extremely funny. idk if it’ll stay her canon because i’m unclear on if neve like… got un-tainted at the end or if her taint didn’t load for me bc that happened once before when they were climbing up lol. i don’t need another romance where they’re just Waiting For The Calling so if she’s still blighted after. well. i will simply retcon this. LOL

overall the veilguard i played was a Fine Game. the gameplay was fun (tho being stuck on storyteller to avoid my save load error and magpie turning into a default model sucked balls) and the story was like. fine? it was a pretty solid game but maybe not a great Dragon Age Game. the veilguard in my mind where i’m fixing the weird retcons and giving my rook more of a real personality is fucking awesome tho.

more or less wiping out southern thedas with a double blight was…. a choice. flattening the whole elf struggle into a couple of throwaway lines and sidelining the dalish was also like. a choice. and retconning the crows into Purely found family instead of found family (that is still toxic) was just kind of a boring decision. let my de riva and lucanis bond over thinking child abuse is normal bioware! so many times bioware was faced with a choice between making something a little morally grey and making it boring and every time they chose boring! so many things also could have been improved by taking your previous choices into account but those choices were just Ignored and so often there wasn’t the level of emotional payoff i Wanted. like yeah i cried when varric died but i would have lost my mind if he even Mentioned hawke?? isabela being in game but not being able to mention it if she was romanced has single-handedly convinced me my isabelamancer’s world state will simply never make the jump to veilguard bc if my inq who knew siobhan hawke is going to exist in the world but isabela will never mention her wife i think i would die.

lucanis’s romance is……. bad. sorry. it’s bad. it has like no content until the very end and very few of the flirt options even really sound like Flirting. you lock in the romance by thanking him for making you dessert? no kiss! nothing! thankfully magpie is also canonically romancing neve so i get to experience that one next. yay :)

also as a nonbinary faggot. if a video game in a fantasy setting ever says the word Non-Binary to me again it will be too soon.

also. minor problem. but not a word out of the inquisitor’s mouth was in the ballpark of something quinn would say. them not letting us at least choose a General personality for the inq was BAD

overall well. i’m about to start it again so i did like it. i just think the game in my head is better.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2023 11 - Wander

Summary: As the Inquisition moves into Skyhold, Kaaras finds himself wandering both physically and mentally. This is a lot to take in... and it's only going to get weirder.

He can only hope he doesn't get a dumb title like Inquisitor or something. Creators forbid.

---

Well… one thing he could say about Skyhold was that it was big and cold. Also, it was a mess. He might not have known much about living inside solid buildings, but even Kaaras had some criticisms at this point.

Mostly… the place was kind of a dump.

He was alone for the moment, exploring what was to be the Inquisition’s new home after Corypheus had destroyed their base at Haven. On the bright side, it wasn’t a Chantry building – hopefully would never be if he got his way – but on the dark side… yeah, it was a mess. Nobody had lived there in ages, so it had kind of gone to shit.

And if he, the guy who lived in aravels and in tents for his entire life could notice it, he wasn’t even sure what the people who knew more about housing thought of it.

At the moment, Kaaras was wandering through the upper levels of the Great Hall. Josephine had said he was going to have his room above everything, but it wasn’t ready yet. So there he was, walking down abandoned halls that hadn’t felt footsteps in ages, listening to the sounds of renovation beginning below.

Everyone had been relieved to find a new base after Haven… but he wasn’t so sure.

“At least it’ll fit everyone without needing tents.” Or it would once they had finished the rebuild. They were trying to figure out how much that was going to cost… a lot was his estimation, but Josephine would come up with proper numbers. No doubt it was going to take a lot – the place was made of stone in the middle of a mountain range. Getting supplies was going to be a pain in the ass.

Also, it was big. They could only hope to renovate in stages as they found their footing and maybe found the funds.

Kaaras found himself climbing a flight of stairs, laden thick with dust and debris. Tattered banners flew in the wind, covered in torn symbols he had only seen in books. None of them were Chantry related thankfully, but no doubt the faithful were dying to make their mark. He would have to put a stop to that where he could.

Not everywhere – even Andrastians deserved a place to worship – but even if they were technically a holy army he wasn’t going to brand it that way. It went against his Dalish sensibilities.

Then again, when had the Chantry ever listened to the Dalish? He might have to get… creative there.

At any rate, his feet led him to the top of the stairs. It opened to a large room with a cracked fireplace and a balcony that opened up to the mountain range. It was empty, but in time it was to be a bedroom if he followed the plan.

It was to be his bedroom if he read it right.

“So… I guess this is where they’re going to store me when I’m not annoying the Chantry.”

Truth be told, he made a terrible Herald of Andraste, and not just because he wasn’t Andrastian. What the Chantry wanted he usually didn’t, and he wasn’t exactly a great mouthpiece. No doubt Cassandra regretted ever pulling him out of the Breech – maybe they could’ve gotten someone devout to be their mouthpiece.

Unfortunately, they got a Dalish qunari who wasn’t exactly fond of Andraste. Her mabari was fine by him, though – the Fereldens agreed with him there.

Kaaras sought the balcony with careful feet, ready to jump back should it not be able to support his weight. Lucky for him and the Inquisition – maybe not for the Chantry sisters or Cassandra – it held and he was able to get a view of the surrounding mountains.

Even with the cold wind blowing from the north, it was a nice view. The mountains still held on to their snowcaps, and probably would for the entire season. Their position would be easier to defend than Haven had been, at least by his guess. He was just a demolitions guy after all – his job was to blow things up, not keep them in place.

“It’s nice enough… I just wish I hadn’t nearly died for it.”

Kaaras sighed as he rested his arms on the railing of the balcony, leaning down. Everything still hurt, even though the healers had seen to him once he had found the rest of the Inquisition after Haven. The chill from trudging through the snow half dead hadn’t left his bones yet either – he shuddered as he pulled his cardigan tighter to try and ward it off.

He would hope that would go away in time… but part of him doubted it was going to happen.

The wind continued to blow through the open room as he stared out into the snowy mountain landscape. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the night Corypheus and his forces had attacked. The fires had blazed through Haven, trapping soldiers and civilians alike. They had rescued everyone they could, gotten them out…

And then the dragon had showed up.

It wasn’t the wind that made Kaaras shudder as he backed away from the balcony. He could still picture it – smell it even, the thing was foul – dark against the blazing fires of the ruined camp. It had been a battle and a half, and in the end it hadn’t amounted to much.

No doubt about it… it had been a complete loss. They were lucky to even be alive with who they had.

“We need to build up fast in case he comes back.” Kaaras shook his head as he tried to chase the dragon and Corypheus from his memories. It didn’t work, but he tried. “Whoever’s in charge has their work cut out for them.”

Josephine, maybe? Or maybe not – she had enough on her plate as the Ambassador to the Inquisition. Leliana was more of a behind the scenes figure, true to her position as the former left hand of the Divine. Cassandra was just a no – he’d rather the long dead Cullen led them.

Hissra maybe? She was doing a good job of leading the troops…

“I thought I’d find you up here.”

The voice made Kaaras turned. Despite the cold, heat rose in his face as he saw Dorian standing by the stairs. The mage soon joined him by the balcony, choosing to go right up to the edge in order to get the best view.

“It was too loud for me in the hall, so I decided to wander and see what I could find.” He joined Dorian at the railing, giving him a healthy amount of space. “I think this is supposed to be my room when everything’s fixed, but I could have read it wrong.”

It was a bit much for him – he was used to aravels and tents. Having so much space to himself was just… bizarre honestly.

“No, I do believe this is to be your space. The leader does tend to get the best space.” Dorian glanced towards the mountains. “And the best view. It looked good from what’s to be the library, but you’ve got it beat.”

Kaaras chuckled weakly as he shook his head. “Nobody’s dumb enough to make me lead the Inquisition, I’m just the weird hand that closes the rifts.”

After all, he wasn’t a leader. He was just a demolitions guy. If not for the fact his hand could close the Breech and keep demons from piling out, he would just be another Inquisition agent. That was the only thing he really brought to the table.

“Judging by the sword I saw them dig out, I think you’re going to be quite surprised the next time you’re called to the Great Hall.” Dorian paused. “Though the name is a bit of a misnomer at the moment. It doesn’t appear to be too great right now. Perhaps we should call it the Maybe Hall until they finish?”

The joke fell somewhat flat as Kaaras gave his remarks a blank stare. Names aside… him? Who in their right mind would pick him? Who would be dumb enough to choose a Dalish qunari to lead the Andrastian holy army? It was enough to give every chantry sister and brother an aneurism at the thought.

Then again, if they were secretly trying to thin out the holy heads of the Chantry… well, he could play that game.

“I’m probably one of the worst choices, Dorian. We need a leader, not…” He gestured to himself. “You know.”

The mage shot him a blank look in return. “No, I don’t. It’s because of you that we survived Haven at all, Kaaras. You were the one who manned the trebuchets after saving so many people. Add in the fact you’re the only one able to close the rifts, and you’re a natural choice.”

But Haven had only been destroyed because Corypheus had been after him… if not for him, more people might have survived…

Kaaras sighed as he rested his arms on the railing, head low. “I’m not exactly leader material, Dorian. I’m not even Andrastian.”

“You sell yourself short on the former…” Briefly, Dorian quirked a smile. “And perhaps the Chantry needs an outsider to keep their noses clean. I doubt you’ll be eager to convert the nonbelievers and claim lands for Andraste.”

That made him snort. “Pardon my language, but fuck no.”

Proselytizing for any faith, especially one that wasn’t his own, was the last thing he’d ever do. When it came down to it, he didn’t particularly care what people believed in as long as they weren’t using it to start a campaign of terror against his people or lock him in chains. A zealot he was not, to put it bluntly.

So maybe Dorian had a point there. At least this way he could keep an eye on things.

“My, I had no idea you even knew how to use those words.” Dorian jokingly put a hand to his heart as if he had been offended. “Well, besides the volley of ‘fucks’ I heard when the dragon showed up. I think you created a new language made just of expletives.”

Kaaras felt his face heat up as he glanced away. “I mean, can you blame me? Not every day you face something like that down.”

“Oh, I was doing the same right next to you, so I can hardly judge.” The mage chuckled, a sound that made Kaaras’ stomach turn as it often did. “But really, are you going to accept when they offer you the role?”

Was he?

The thought caused him to frown as he stared out at the snowy expanse of the mountains surrounding and protecting Skyhold. The events of the last week or so were still running through his mind. Corypheus wanted him. He was the only one who could close the rifts and keep out demons.

He was Dalish and qunari in an Andrastian holy army.

“I… well, if they’re foolish enough to offer it to me, at least I can use it to keep an eye on the next Exalted March.”

Dorian patted him on the shoulder – there went his heart. “There you go. Also, they’ll probably ask your opinion on the next Divine.”

Fuck that – if they asked him, he was nominating Akri out of spite.

“I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves there, but I guess it’s something to keep in mind.” Kaaras smiled slightly, still feeling his heart beat hard against his binder. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dorian.”

The mage smiled back, making his stomach churn. “Well, someone has to provide it. You could use a little more ego.”

“But if I have too much my head won’t fit through the door with my horns.”

That made them both chuckle, a sound that carried over the mountains and disappeared. Something about it made Kaaras feel warm inside, even with the cold breeze coming from the north.

He still didn’t feel like the right person for this nonsense… but he was willing to try.

“Oh, thank the Maker, there you are, Herald! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

A scout’s head appeared at the top of the stairs, followed by the rest of his body. Kaaras broke away from the balcony and met him in the middle of the room. No doubt his wandering was over for the day.

“Can I help you?”

The scout nodded and motioned for him to follow. “Lady Montilyet and the others are waiting for you outside the Great Hall. They said it’s important.”

Looks like Dorian was right after all…

Kaaras resisted the urge to sigh as he nodded. “I’ll be right down, thank you.”

The scout disappeared, their footsteps thundering down the steps, leaving Dorian and Kaaras alone in what would eventually be his quarters. Even though he hadn’t seen it, he knew what was about to happen.

Which was why he probably wanted to hide up there… but that would just bring more scouts.

“Before you go…” Dorian reached up to adjust his cardigan. “There, it was hanging off your shoulder. You want to look your best when being declared the head of a holy army.”

“Of course, it’s only natural.” Kaaras didn’t even try to hide the sarcasm as he smoothed back his hair and tightened his ribbon. “Well, time to go make a lot of people unhappy. I find I’m good at that lately.”

Came with the job, he supposed. No doubt he was going to get a lot more practice as the head of the Inquisition. He could only hope he wouldn’t get a stupid title to go with it – Herald of Andraste was bad enough.

Please don’t let it be something stupid or grandiose like… Inquisitor. He’d die on the spot.

[thebookworm0001]

Crestwood - Banter update

Summary: The companions react to the end of Solas and Ellana's relationship.

Cassandra: Solas, I was wondering if I could give you some advice.

Solas: You have given sound wisdom in the past. I would value any advice you had to share now.

Cassandra: You should not let fear stand in the way of your happiness. I do not know what has passed between you and the Inquisitor, but I can see that it has hurt you both. If it can be mended… 

Ellana: Cassandra…

Solas: It is not so simple as that, Seeker.

Cassandra: Are you certain? How many lives could have been saved if we had been willing to reach out and truly listen to the concerns of the mages and templars? Perhaps we would not be where we are had we not been afraid of the answers. 

Cassandra: There are many things in this life that men have decided are too complicated to solve when, in truth, the only thing keeping us from making meaningful change has been our fear. I would not see you make that same mistake if it can be helped. 

Cassandra: You are a man who holds many things close, Solas. I understand if you worry what vulnerability could mean. But you should not let that hold you back from what good this world has to offer.

Solas: I- Thank you.

Solas: I appreciate your insight, Seeker. 

Dorian: You know, I once knew someone who rented out the entirety of the finest restaurant in Minrathous for their partner. Hired a band, filled the room with perpetually-blooming flowers - it was quite the affair. Had the whole Magisterium aflutter with rumors of engagement. 

Dorian: Turns out they’d been planning to end things for well over a month and hadn’t known how else to go about it. Truly, I’ve never seen a relationship implode so spectacularly. And I’ve been witness to my parents’ marriage for the past 30 years.

Dorian: Had I known someone would try and replicate that disaster, I might’ve suggested they take another approach. Self-immolation, perhaps. It would have gone over better.

Ellana: There’s no need for this.

Dorian: Oh, there certainly is.

Solas: I am well aware of my mistakes, Dorain. I should not have allowed things to go as far as they did. For that I am sorry, more than you know.

Dorian: And that makes it all better, doesn't it?

Blackwall: Are you alright, my Lady? You took quite the hit back there.

Ellana: I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve taken a blow. 

Blackwall: No, it isn’t. That doesn’t mean this one isn’t worth tending to. Wounds like that tend to fester if you don’t get to them in time. Take it from me. 

Ellana: It’ll heal, Thom. Vivienne can give me something for it when we get back to camp, anyway. 

Blackwall: You know, not long after Blackwall found me - the real Blackwall - we ran into some bandits. Took a rather nasty cut on my leg in the fighting. 

Blackwall: I’d wanted to keep moving, bandage it long enough to get where we were going. 

Ellana: I’m guessing the good Warden didn’t care much for that plan?

Blackwall: Not at all. Threatened to drug me if that’s what it took to get the damn thing cleaned out. And good thing he did too - might’ve lost the leg to infection otherwise. 

Blackwall: Took me a while to realize that’s what I was hoping for. Maybe even to lose more than the leg. 

Blackwall: I’m not saying that’s where you’re at. But you don’t need to nurse your wounds alone. We’re all here for you.

Ellana: Oh. 

Ellana: I suppose the story was a bit much to be just about some bruised ribs.

Blackwall: I’m not much of a healer. I can’t hear your hurts like Cole or guck with the Fade like- uh, well. But if there’s anything I can do…

Ellana: There isn’t. But I appreciate it, Thom. Truly.

Ellana: Varric, did they ever tell you what changed? Fenris and Hawke, I mean. I know what you wrote in The Tale of the Champion, but…

Varric: Surprised they got back together? So were they, I think. Big sweeping confessions, eleventh hour realizations, heart-breaking proclamations? It’s the kind of mushy crap you usually only ever see in romance serials. Great for sales. Not exactly realistic by most accounts.

Varric: The breakup didn’t have much to do with them as it did all the other crap. Fenris needed time to work through what it meant to be free, to chart his own course without self-sabotaging. And Hawke? Well, she’s got a savior complex a mile wide on her best days.

Varric: Hard to let yourself have a happily ever after when you don’t trust it’ll stick. Harder still when you don’t think you deserve it. 

Varric: Eventually, Fenris figured out how to stop looking over his shoulder long enough to realize we had his back, and Hawke learned to let other people save her every once in a while. Both are still pretty shit at it, but they’re trying. More than you can say for most people.

Ellana: And here I thought all you needed to do was share a bedroll. No wonder Cassandra likes your romance serial, Mr. Tethras.

Varric: I still can’t believe she likes that trash. Truly the worst of all my work. Including the stuff I didn’t write.

Varric: But here’s the thing, Violet. Break-ups feel a lot better in stories. You get all that hindsight up front, so you see the signs. Or you realize what you missed after the fact and feel a little stupid. You may even be happy you were caught off-guard if the author did their job right.

Varric: Real life? You miss the small things. Or ignore them because it’s easier that way. Then one day it’s all piled up and you wonder how the hell you never saw it coming. And if somebody’s smug about pulling one over on you, it usually means they’re a dick. Most of the time, though, everybody’s just sad.

Ellana: Is that supposed to make me feel better?

Varric: Nah, it’s just true. But you know what? End result is still the same - big reunion or well-earned revenge rebound, you still find what you need. Unless you shack up with a god, then you start a new religion. Don’t think we have to worry about that though. 

Varric: You’ll figure yourselves out, Violet. 

Ellana: Like you and Bianca did?

Varric: Well. What’s a bit of hope without a cautionary tale to go with it?

[fischerfrey]

"Merlin, I hate this class!”, day 03 of @cursebreakerfarrier ‘s Back to School Challenge

Word count: 550

Hogwarts is going through some changes during Max Avery’s fourth year. (Max uses she/they pronouns.)

Autumn Term of 1995

Max had her head buried in a dusty old book about the history and appliances of different types of antidotes, when Ginny Weasley burst into the dorm in a flurry of robes and frankly, bad vibes.

“I cannot believe that horrid, ugly, old hag!” she bellowed and tossed her bag of books haphazardly on the bed, with its contents tumbling to the floor one after another. Max closed her book and glanced up.

“Some of us are trying to study,” they said with barely contained annoyance.

“Well, I’m terribly sorry, Avery, but Umbridge’s little inquisitors are on some sort of power trip and Gryffindor just lost 70 points over practically nothing!”

“So, this ugly, old hag you mentioned… Umbridge or Parkinson?” Max asked tentatively.

That solicited a laugh out of Ginny, at least. “I did mean Umbridge but works both ways.”

“With you I can never tell,” Max muttered and went back to her book. She had to get the reading done if she ever wanted to start on the essay.

“What are you studying for?” asked Ginny.

“Bloody potions,” Max said. “I haven’t even gotten started on the essay on antidotes yet.”

“I’ve got half a roll, I think,” Ginny said and knelt down to pick her school supplies from the floor. “Ah, here we are,” she said after a brief pause. “No wait, I lied, I only have the title.”

“You wouldn’t want to steal your friend Granger’s notes from last year?”

“You assume she hasn’t taken them home to catalogue alphabetically?”

“Right, I guess I just have to get through this book, then,” Max said in defeat. It wasn’t that she disliked learning about antidotes per se, but Professor Snape truly excelled in giving the most tedious, most dry, most excruciating homework anyone had ever thought of.

“Tell you what,” Ginny continued, getting up from the floor. “Let’s be study buddies.”

“What?”

“C’mon, it’ll be a lot more fun to get through that monstrosity together, besides, I have sweets!”

Max considered it. They weren’t exactly the best of friends with Ginny, in accordance with Max’s whole family being Slytherins and most of them also supporters of You-Know-Who. Things had improved with her dormmates a little this year though. The school had been divided into those who believed Harry Potter and those who didn’t, with Dolores Umbridge reigning supreme over the disbelievers. But Max knew Potter was telling the truth, had heard it from her own father’s mouth, and she had no intention of starting to play the role of the dutiful daughter now, when she never had before.

“Okay,” they said eventually. “But I’ll hold you to those sweets.”

Ginny fished several bags and boxes of Honeyduke’s products from her bedside table’s drawer. “I wouldn’t lie about sweets.”

Ginny handed her a bag of liquorice wands. “You like these, right?”

“They’re alright,” said Max and took the bag. She loved them, in fact.

“Good, let’s get started then, we’ve got a lot to get through.”

Max made room on her bed so Ginny and her copious amounts of sweets and school supplies could fit. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have female friends that weren’t her sister. Especially if it included not having to deal with Snape’s bloody essays all alone.