#Mostly because Sera could fly/fight/fall again

[deva-arts]

In a distant and unexplored future we see Sera doom spiral in real time. No, they do not lay eggs.

Nathaniel didn't expect a question like that. From Vincent? Probably. But Sera? He is trying his absolute best not to cry laughing.

He is experiencing the thorough breakdown of his paradigms regarding conception while also experiencing the miracle of life etc etc

He also refuses to move because the same hands that he has crushed pumpkins and skulls with are holding a tiny living squeaky thing and that kind of petrifies him.

What didn't happen:

[dragonofnevarra]

Hey there! Kinda weird question... Can you tell me all about your inquisitor and your Hawke? I'm working on something special for you 😊😊

Fuck, I’m so sorry I didn’t get to this before! I’ve been a bit under the weather lately and didn’t notice it. I’ll put it under a Read More because I have a feeling it’s gonna get long.

My main timeline Inquisitor is Tyla, First of Clan Lavellan. She was chosen to be First because Keeper Istimaethorial saw in her the ability to make hard choices when pressed and her deep compassion. Her magical inclination was pyromancy, but she studied ice magic in order to promote self-discipline and finesse. Her life was fairly standard for the most part. She studied magic and the elvhen histories, she fell in love with a bowman named Seryas, and helped keep the clan safe from Templars and bandits alike.

Her life sort of turned about when she met an outcast of the Neverran clans named Elian. She found him passed out from a high fever in the ruins of a temple of Sylaise. They became fast friends, teaching each other what their clan’s didn’t know. They’re friendship fell apart when Elian led to the death of Seryas.

After that, Tyla lost a lot of the faith she had in her gods and much of the idealism she had as a young woman. When the question of the Conclave arrived, she volunteered, not wanting to lose any more of their dwindling clan. The rest is history.

Tyla is a deeply emotional woman who takes on too much responsibility upon herself. She tends to lash out at people when she feels helpless, but she will always put herself in danger’s way before others. She had a short-lived friendship with Solas (which ended when it became clear that she didn’t reciprocate his feelings for her), had to deal with the news that her clan was almost wiped out, had an ill-advised fling with Cullen (another disaster ending when she found out how he truly felt about mages), and eventually fell head over heels for Sera, who helped her realize that she could relax without the world falling to pieces. Sera is the only person in the Inquisition who Tyla allows to see her as anything other than a stoic leader.

She begins to grow as a person again as Inquisition goes on. She and the survivors of Clan Lavellan build a new home in Skyhold. They unite outcasts and races across southern Thedas. When the Inquisition inevitably disbands, they set up Clan Ameridan in Skyhold, a place for refugees, cast-outs, and those who’ve no other place to go.

You can find what she looks like here.

Now, my main timeline Hawke is Lochlan. He’s primarily a creation mage with some backup primal spells and specializations in spirit healing and force magic. He’s primarily a diplomatic person who uses humor to hide when he’s furious. Despite how much Carver pushed him away, he only ever wanted to help his brother. One of his greatest regrets is taking Carver down into the Deep Roads where he inevitably succumbed to the Blight.

Lochlan chose to become a smuggler to get into the city of Kirkwall because it already suited his abilities. He’s very good at hiding things and lying on the fly, he keeps a keen eye on his surroundings, and he’s a natural at blending into the crowd. He has very rogue-like qualities which he worked on to hide the fact that he’s an apostate. His staff is shaped to look like a spear and he heavily relies on melee, saving his mana for healing his friends.

Despite being wary, Lochlan has a good intuition when it comes to people he can trust. And so he made easy friends with the Kirkwall group. Anders was the only one to give him pause, mostly due to the horror stories he had heard about abominations, but they soon bonded over trading healing spells and techniques. They became as close as brothers.

Fenris was the one who he ended up falling for. They would drink together in Danarius’ manor, the quiet atmosphere lending itself better to Lochlan. It seemed that Fenris would only smile around him and so it became a challenge to find new ways to make him happy for small moments at a time. The conflict with Hadriana caused a rift between them for a time. And when Fenris needed time to process, to come to terms with things, Lochlan let him, with the assurance that he would be there should Fenris need anything from him.

When the Chantry blew up, Lochlan had never felt more helpless in Kirkwall. He had tried so hard to keep mages safe and he knew, as he watched the sky light up, that this was all the Templars needed as excuse to kill any mage they could find. He was never so devastated by a friend than upon realizing that Anders hadn’t trusted him with the truth. He had Anders fight with them, defending the mages until their last breaths if need be. After the battle, he vanished. Sometimes, letters still reach Varric, Merrill, and Isabela. As far as they can tell, he wanders Thedas with Fenris, killing slavers and freeing captured peoples.

I don’t have any screenshots of Lochlan, but if I had to pick a faceclaim, he’d look like Will Yun Lee.

[kpssmithwrites]

Your Dragon Age Protag and Varric for 11

11. Things you said when you were drunk

Fun fact: Varric’snickname for Demenli Adaar is “Duckling” because when the Inquisition began,she followed Cassandra around like…well, a duckling. She’s also rather fond ofsplashing in puddles when she gets the chance, but he didn’t find that outuntil much later.

Another Fun Fact:Demenli did not handle going into the Fade well for numerous reasons. This ishow she decided to cope.

Fic under the cut!

          Varric, surprisingly, didn’t headto the Herald’s Rest very often. While he enjoyed a good drink now and then,every time he stepped into the tavern he half expected it to become the HangedMan before his eyes where he’d see Hawke waiting for him at their usual tabletrying to play Wicked Grace with their usual crew. When he blinked and theHerald’s Rest remained, he was disappointed. It wasn’t that he had anythingagainst the Iron Bull sitting sprawled on his sofa in a corner, or listening toSera flirt with scouts that had wandered in, or patrons humming to theminstrel’s (sometimes extremely depressing) songs, but it just wasn’t home.

         However, it was comforting that hewasn’t the only one who didn’t frequent the tavern as often as people thoughtthey would. In the eyes of Skyhold, Inquisitor Adaar needed a stiff drink morethan anyone here but she rarely visited the place, except when she was comingto visit Bull, Sera, or Cole. Otherwise, she kept clear of the place. Some ofthe scouts and soldiers said it was because she had a private collection of thefinest liquor stashed somewhere in Skyhold, but Varric didn’t believe that. Hefigured it was just because she didn’t like the taste.

         Then, Demenli went into Fade. Sure,it was her second time, but it was the first time she remembered. Varricassumed that it had been rough. He hadn’t been there. He wanted to be, butDemenli had chosen others to travel with her and meet with Hawke and her GreyWarden Agent (who Varric figured was Stroud—he was relieved to find it to betrue later, then saddened by the result).

         Apparently, the trip was hell.Varric hadn’t been surprised. Varric had been in the Fade once. It had been anexperience that he didn’t want to repeat, and after hearing Cassandra recallwhat had happened in it, and the aftermath, Varric was glad that he wasn’tthere for the trip. Hawke was safe, and that’s what mattered—and while he feltbad for Stroud, the fact that Demenli and her chosen companions made it back inone piece overrode any guilt, mostly. She had made the right decision.

         Still, Varric found himself wakingin a cold sweat one evening, and really craving a drink to help him sleep. Hisown personal stash was empty, so he got himself situated and wandered down tothe Herald’s Rest from his room, figuring that it was quiet enough at such alate hour that maybe he could just grab a drink and go.

         Lingering outside the door for a moment,preparing himself, Varric took a deep breath and pushed the door open. He waspleased to find that the place was mostly empty. Most of the scouts had gone totheir watch or to sleep, and even the Iron Bull’s hulking form was missing fromhis usual spot. Then, he turned to the bar. The barkeeper, Cabot, was quietlycleaning a few mugs with a dirty rag, and making what sounded like interestednoises at a lump sitting on one of the stools and slumped against the bar.

         Much to Varric’s surprise, it wasDemenli. He recognized her so quickly only by the fact that she was huge incomparison to everyone else—and was much too small to be the Iron Bull. Herhair was tangled and fly away, strung up awkwardly and stuck twisted around herhorns in some places, and it looked like she was in a nightgown of some sort.Her feet were bare and she looked cramped on the little stool meant for humans,elves, and dwarves, but she made it work.

         “Another,” she said hoarsely andslid a mug as big as her head to Cabot.

         “I think you’ve had enough,Inquisitor—”

         Demenli slammed her mug, like achild demanding more juice. “Another!” she repeated. Her words were slurred andquiet, so garbled that Varric barely understood her. “What else do you get paidfor?”

         Cabot scowled before he glanced at the door tosee Varric. “You, Tethras,” he said, pointing a fat finger at him. “Dosomethin’ with her. She’s been like this for an hour.”

         Demenli turned, focus off of thebartender. She blinked sleepily at Varric and she scrunched her nose.

         “Varric?” she asked, lost. “Tellhim to give me Maraas-Lok. I-I know he has it…gives it to Bull all the time…”She slammed her mug again, frustrated. Then, she said something angrily inQunlat, sounding fiercer than the Arishok. If Varric remembered correctly withhis limited experience with the language, she effectively said, “This isbullshit,” but he wasn’t certain.

         Instead, he said, “Fancy seeing youhere, Duckling,” and sat down next to her. Demenli’s eyes were glassy and red,nose looking irritated like she had been crying. Normally, she’d greet him witha smile, but all she could do was scowl at the barkeep for trying to change thesubject. “How much have you had?”

         “Not much,” she slurred, headdrooping slightly as if she were trying to hide her drunkenness. “Just alittle.”

         “Four whole mugs,” Cabot replied.“I tried to cut her off at two but she managed to wrestle the tankard from meand get it herself and emptied the last of it. She’d probably get more from theback, but don’t think she can walk now without falling on her arse.”

         Varric chuckled lightly, andDemenli scowled fiercer than before. Cabot went to take the mug from her butshe held it to her chest and mumbled, “No, mine,” and then slipped from thestool completely, falling flat on her back. Surprisingly, she managed to notknock anything over, but she curled up holding the mug like a teddy bear andrefused to budge.

         “She’s been like this for howlong?” Varric asked, surprised.

         “I’d give it an hour,” repliedCabot. “I figured she’d wander off but as you can see…”

         Varric got off the stool with agrunt and crouched next to Demenli. Demenli looked at him and said, voice softand serious, “Meravas itwasaam.”

         “I don’t know what that means,Duckling,” Varric prompted gently. “You know most people don’t speak Qunlataround here. Hell, I don’t think even you speak Qunlat fully.”

         “Do too,” Demenli replied. She shuther eyes and Varric saw her whole body quake. “Don’t feel good, Varric.”

         “Well, if you’re drinking that junkthat Bull always drinks, I bet your nerves are shot,” Varric replied. He helpedher sit up, and she sagged against his shoulder. He narrowly avoided gettinghis eye poked out as she sat back, horns veering dangerously near his face.“Let’s get you to your room, okay? Can you walk?”

         “Mm. Just gonna stay here,” shereplied.

         “You can’t, Duckling. People willbe walking here tomorrow morning, and Cabot needs to close up shop. Come on,I’ll help you. One step at a time, right?”

         Demenli shook her head but tried tostand. She used the stool to help steady herself  her body unfolded and she swayed once on herfeet. Varric only came to her waist so he wasn’t sure if she could really leanon him. There was no way in hell he could carry her, either. He wondered for amoment if he needed to go get Sera, who was probably fast asleep upstairs, or eventry and find Cole, when Demenli decided to start wandering out of the Herald’sRest on her own accord. Each step looked like she was going to topple over,tipping dangerously from side to side, and the steps were so small that Varrichad no trouble keeping up with her.

         “Hey, hey!” he said, waving hishand and trying to grab hers. “Easy, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

         Demenli snorted but did not soundhappy about it. She mumbled something under her breath and Varric slowlystarted to guide her towards the main bulk of Skyhold, towards her rooms. Itwas a lot of stepping, stumbling, and having Demenli be oddly quiet.

         “Y’know,” Varric began, his voicebreaking the silence, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this wasted. You don’tdrink normally, do you?”

         Demenli made a non-committal noisein response and nearly smashed face first into the stairs leading up to themain hall. Varric caught her by the nightgown and she tipped back, stumbled,and landed on the ground with a surprised, “Oof!” Deciding this is where shewould stay, she flopped onto her back and refused to budge.

         “Oh for Andraste’s sake—Duckling,come on. We’re almost there.”

         “Too many stairs,” Demenli replied.“Not gonna.”

         Varric sighed and sat down next toher again. Above on the ramparts, he could see a guard watching. He waved themdown, hoping that he recognized them or possibly could buy their secrecy tosave the Inquisitor’s image. “Well, sit tight. I’ll find someone to carry you.We’ll get you to bed. You’re going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

         “No bed. Don’t wanna sleep,”Demenli replied. She turned her head to look at him seriously. “Bad dreams.Don’t wanna go back.”

         Varric, surprised, shook his head.“They’re just dreams, Duckling. Sure, you’re dreaming and you go to theFade—but you’re stronger than that. You can fight anything if you put your mindto it.”

         “Can’t fight the inevitable,”Demenli replied. For a moment, she sounded so old, staring up at the night sky.“Can’t fight what you see and can’t get out of your head. Can’t get it out ofmy head…should’ve stayed. Everyone should’ve run and should’ve stayed, could’vestopped it, couldn’t I?”

         “Uh…” Varric was quiet before heshook his head. “We’ll chat about this later, okay, Duckling?”  The scout had arrived—some fresh-facedrecruit who was ogling Demenli for several reasons, none which Varric liked.“You, kid. Go get the Iron Bull. You know what he looks like. Huge, graymuscles, horns that could poke your eye out.”

         “Y-You want me to g-get—why—b-but—”

         “Because I sure as hell can’t carrythe Inquisitor, and neither can you. She’s not feeling too well.”

         On cue, Demenli turned on her sideand threw up. She lurched and hacked up what looked like dinner and a lot ofthe Maraas-Lok she had drunk. Varric helped her sit up, held her hair, andrubbed circles into her back until she caught her breath. Then she fixed astare at the scout and snarled, “GO!” in the loudest voice she could muster.The kid practically shat himself as he ran to find help.

         “That feel better?” Varric asked, afinal pat just landing between Demenli’s shoulder blades.

         “No,” Demenli replied. She leanedagainst Varric again and he made sure that she didn’t stick her hand in thepuddle of vomit. “Varric? Does it get easier?”

         “What, drinking? Sure,” Varricreplied. “It just takes practice—“

         “No. This.” She gestured ateverything around her. “All of this. Does it? Pretending? Hiding?” She blinkedblearily and rested her head on Varric’s shoulder. “It was in m’head, Varric.Knew my thoughts. Pickin’ at it piece, by piece, by piece…pickin’ at everyoneelse…”

         “It sounds awful, Duckling,” Varricreplied softly. “But it’s all right. That fear demon can’t hurt you now.”

         “I hear it,” Demenli said, eyesclearing for a moment. “I can hear it, on the edge of my dreams, in the fade.Stroud fighting it. Echoing…” She closed her eyes, and sniffed. Her hands roseand covered her head. “It won’t stop.”

         Varric sighed. “I know, kid. Iknow. But for now…” He looked up and saw the Iron Bull (thankfully, wearingpants) striding across the courtyard, followed by the jittery guard. “Look? It’syour favorite Qunari! Inquisitor?”

         Demenli had curled up and refusedto budge and talk. Then, he realized that she had passed out completely.

“          What the hell happened here?” theIron Bull asked, crouching down beside them.

         “She got into your stashof…mass-lock?” Varric said, squinting a little. “She said it once or twice butit’s kind of hard to say.”

         “How much did she drink?”

         “Four whole mugs. Big ones.Like…your mug, big.”

         “Shit. She’s gonna be half deadtomorrow. Better make sure to tell Josephine to clear the calendar because theboss won’t be getting out of bed for at least a day.”

         Varric pushed Demenli into the IronBull’s arms. She went limp and her head bounced against his shoulder. Then,silently, the two started towards Demenli’s rooms. The trip was awkward andquiet, a mixture of their discomfort and just lack of conversation minglingwith exhaustion.

         Demenli’s rooms looked completelyuntouched since she had returned home to Skyhold. The bed sheets had beencleaned especially for her arrival but a thin layer of dust had settled on herdesk and furniture, and the hearth was cold. The Iron Bull got her situatedwhile Varric started up a fire. When he gazed around and saw Demenli’s pained,pinched face in her sleep, he sighed.

         The scene felt oddly familiar tohim, and it made his heart ache.

         From the bed, Demenli grumbled. TheIron Bull pulled up the covers and brushed some hair from her face, which madeher fidget and curl up tight in a ball. “Better make sure she has some water byher nightstand,” he said. “And lemon. Sometimes that can take off the punch.”

         Varric nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’llmake sure to get that set for her, she has a pantry of sorts up here.”

         “You stayin’?”

         “Yeah. Just for a while, to makesure she doesn’t need anything.” Varric nodded at the Iron Bull, who noddedback in understanding. Varric watched from the corner of his eye as the IronBull headed back downstairs, probably back to bed. Varric looked around andwarmed his hands on the fire for a moment. He got the water set up, found somedried lemon, and left some bread on the nightstand before he settled atDemenli’s desk. The desk was huge, and his feet couldn’t touch the ground whenhe sat in the chair. Still, it was comfortable. He dusted off the inkwell andquill, and found some blank parchment, and decided to write. He kept watchuntil morning and tried not to grimace when Demenli whimpered in her sleep, andwaited for the night to pass.