#Remli Lavellan

[sirladyscripts]

She liked her advisors, she really did. But sometimes they could just be so, so… human.

Remli’s response to the War Table mission, “Bestow the MourningHalla.” Post Wicked Hearts, still romancing the Egg.

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Reports were coming in left and right, and it was quickly becoming more and more apparent that once again, he’d made a grave error of judgement, and he would have to readjust his plans. That he would have to admit that he’d been in the wrong about this world once again—fatally so.

Felassan had been right.

Solas had met Briala in person while attending the ball with the Inquisitor, and watched as the slip of a woman held her own in the human court—coming out on top, even, although much of that was Remli deciding to underplay that bit of blackmail when the time came to hold up the cards. And it was true, the elven woman had terrible taste in romantic partners… but her ability to plan for the night, to set up so many perimeter guards with such meager resource. She had great potential.

The agent in the field seemed equally impressed—no small feat, given this particular agent was a wandering Dalish apostate with no little love for city elves. Solas picked up the man’s most recent missive, delivered in the night and tucked into a text on Orlesian poetry:

“Papillon continues to flutter from flower to flower, looking for an open bud. She has asked the bees for help, and although they have been unable to peel away the petals, they supply her with other sources of sustenance. It may be more efficient to simply allow a few flowers to open, and watch what happens, if only to see where she will alight next. A predator may wish to take note; Papillon may be akin to the reigning monarch—if eaten, found poisonous. ~L”

He sighed, rubbing his temple and debating the folly of it. She was resourceful, the Red Jennies would certainly be a valuable network of supplies and information, even if they lacked access to the eluvians. That she was still attempting to regain entry was intriguing—she’d had them for months, but had done nothing of significance when she walked those ancient halls. What was it she hoped to gain in reentering the crossroads? Did she actually have a plan of action, or was she simply trying to regain control of them out of spite?

Perhaps it was not Fen’Harel, but Felassan whom she resembled.

If that was true… he would need to think of what he was to do with her, one way or another, and soon. The agent was in a good position to make contact, but until he knew exactly what to do with her, the agent was simply watching and reporting. A waste of a good mage and healer, but there were no better roles for him at the moment.

Pushing thoughts of the agent aside, Solas shuffled through his papers to another report, this one investigating naval activities out on the Waking Sea and rumors of strange excursions. There was a sketch within the letter, a rough etching of strange tracks found along the beach. He vaguely recalled seeing something like that in a previous report from the north, and had just opened a book on Tevinter Tales of Mystery and Magic when a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Solas, do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” he replied, smoothly tucking his notes into the book and setting it aside. He stepped back from the desk and turned to meet the Spymistress as she emerged from the shadows—a rare feat, given how brightly the torches in the chamber glowed. A slight frown creased her brow, and she studiously ignored the papers he covered, no doubt having read through copies of the correspondences before they were released to their intended readers.

“I wondered if I might call upon your aid,” she said, mirroring his pose by clasping her hands behind her back. “I have a puzzle that could use your unique perspective.”

“My assistance?” he asked, wondering what sort of materials her agents might have uncovered, and why it would take precedence over her other lines of inquiry. “Have you come across another elven text you wish for me to translate?”

His question tugged a smile to the corner of her mouth. “Of a sort,” she replied.

- - - - -

He managed to spot the Inquisitor leaving the stables with Smudge in tow, her lips set in a firm line and pace clipped as she stepped into the courtyard. The soldiers and refuges milling about quickly moved out of her way, stepping back with cries of alarm as the Inquisitor leapt onto the back of the hart once they were clear of the doorway. Smudge picked up a quick trot towards the main gates, squealing as Remli encouraged him to dash across the bridge. Solas could only imagine Dennet’s dismay if he’d seen one of his charges taken out without proper tack and saddle—given the Inquisitor’s appearance, however, it was probably just as well that the old man had returned home for a brief visit.

The barn was not unoccupied, however. Blackwall watched from the doorway, his impressive eyebrows drawn together in a mixture of concern and confusion. His face lightened a little when he saw Solas approach, and the man shrugged and sighed, sagging against the door.

“Before you ask, no, I don’t know what that was about,” he said, holding up his hands. “She wasn’t in here very long, so I am fairly certain I had nothing to do with it. Probably.” Blackwall pushed off the doorframe and followed Solas inside after taking one last look at the dust trail left by the Inquisitor’s rapid exit.

“Did she say anything?” Solas asked as they walked down the row of stalls. Solas stopped in front of his own hart, holding out his hand and sending a gentle wave of magic to the creature. Pride snuffed his hand, then pressed a velvety nose against his palm, following Solas’ hand as the stall door opened.

Blackwall stood aside, watching as Solas deftly mounted the beast without harness or tack, and sighed again. “I didn’t catch what she said, but the elven I do know and the tone in which she said it suggests it was unflattering. I did manage to catch a ‘shem’ in there,” he replied. He turned to go back to his workbench to pick up the abandoned chisel and hammer, then paused. “Like I said, I don’t know what it was about but I’m fairly certain it wasn’t directed at me specifically. Still, she’s in a mood. Might want to give her a bit of space.”

“Mm,” Solas responded, turning the beast with a knee and guiding him out of the barn. He held the hart’s ruff and urged it to a faster trot with a gentle kick. Pride flicked his ears back, briefly, but obediently picked up the pace, and they were running by the time they came to the massive stone bridge leading out of Skyhold.

Solas could feel the anchor call to him as it always did, a low and persistent pull on his magic. He turned Pride towards the Inquisitor, letting the hart set the pace and only adjusting with minor squeezes to ensure they took the easiest path. She wasn’t moving very quickly now—apparently she simply needed to get away from the keep, but she had enough sense to stay close. It seemed as though she’d stopped, actually, as the pulse of magic continued to grow as they made their way down the mountain path.

Her object was distance, then, rather than disappearance. But how far was enough? And when would she stop running?

Apparently, far enough was at the bottom of the waterfall that fed the massive lake beyond the forest. Remli sat upon a fallen log, skidding stones across the lake’s surface with sharp, precise flicks of the wrist. Magic flared from the anchor as she threw, engulfing the stones with green fire as they sped along the water’s surface before slipping beneath the rippled surface.

It was Smudge who gave them away as they approached. The hart lifted his head from the patch of moss he’d been chewing and bugled to them, stamping the ground and calling a challenge to the equally impressive Pride, who snorted and ignored the other beast. Remli stopped mid-throw, hand clenching around the rock as she lowered her arm, but she didn’t turn around, no doubt already knowing it was him.

Solas dismounted, patting Pride on the rump before walking towards the log. “Vhenan?” he called, getting a response at last.

“I just needed some time away from them,” she explained, not turning around. She raised the stone again. “Sometimes they’re just so… so… AUGH!” The pebble hurtled across the lake.

“Shall I find more stones?” he asked, half in jest. She sighed but gave him a weary smile as he sat beside her. She leaned into his embrace when he raised his arm to pull her closer, and they linked fingers, the collection of pebbles abandoned.

“I forget, sometimes, that they’re human,” she said, settling against him so she could listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. “And I know that they don’t mean to be offensive or insensitive, they don’t know any better, but… Augh.” She shifted again to tuck both his hands under hers, hugging them close to her chest. “They just have no tact, and they don’t even realize how much they insult me, my people, and our customs.”

“I do not profess much knowledge in the way of Dalish customs,” he said, which earned him a snort of muffled laughter, “But would speaking to a fellow non-Andrastian elf provide some comfort?” She didn’t reply immediately, and he gently squeezed her hands. “I know the feeling of isolation within a crowd.”

“It’s not isolation, per se,” she replied, frowning as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I just… wish they’d asked for some input from me before deciding the ‘best’ way to handle the situation.”

“A war table operation, then?” he asked, and she nodded.

“They all came up with suggestions of how to complete the mission with so little cultural sensitivity that I was immediately reminded that I was a knife ear from the wilds in a room of humans who believe that anything not closely-humanoid is automatically an inferior creature.” She sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against him. “I suppose Cullen sort-of understands, the way he goes on about marbari, maybe that’s why his ‘solution’ was the least insulting.”

Solas couldn’t stop the disbelieving laugh. “The commander rarely employs tact when brevity will suffice,” he said, and pulled her into his lap so he could better see her face. He smiled down at her, placing a gentle kiss against her forehead. “Tell me about it?”

And so he learned of Hawen’s desire to gift the humans of Red Crossing with a mourning halla, and the less than satisfactory suggestions of her advisers. Remli clenched her fists as she recalled Josie’s quip about dissolved marriages and a duel.

“…And none of them stopped to ask the elf, an actual, living, breathing Dalish representative what might be the best way to honor such a gift. What the significance of such an offering has, and how it should be handled!” she seethed, shaking her head.

“And it bothers you, that they did not ask?”

“It bothers me that they didn’t even consider asking, and that they laughed it off as though it was the simple exchange of livestock from the elves to humans.” She hugged his hand to her chest, and he could feel the rapid beating of her heart, and the crackle of magic that shifted with her anger.

“Halla are not dumb animals to be bought, traded, or sold. They’re intelligent beings who live with the Dalish out of a mutual understanding and respect. A halla keeper does not ‘keep’ so much as interpret and care for them—if you want them to do something, you have to ask and gain their permission. They’re not pets or livestock, they’re friends, they’re family. Hawen is gifting one of his family members—a family member who most definitely volunteered to go— to the humans of Red Crossing in the hopes to bridge the cultural divide between elves and humans, but…” she trailed off, and he picked up her train of thought with ease.

“But the humans do not understand the subtleties of such a sacrifice, and the levity they used for such a powerful gesture lessened the symbolism to an offensive degree,” he finished. A beat. “And you do not believe that they are open-minded enough to understand the sensitivity of the situation.”

“If I take any of their suggestions, I’m no better than a slave trader, giving the humans a member of Hawen’s clan to use or abuse as they will,” she said, and scrubbed tears of frustration from her eyes. “I like them, I really do, but sometimes they make me so angry, I begin to understand our dear Genetivi’s insistence that all Dalish eventually snap and go on killing sprees.” She sighed, slumping against him.

“I suppose I’m mostly just disappointed in them, because I’ve worked so hard to understand their strange customs and culture, and the moment I need them to return the favor they just… ugh.”

“Mm,” he said, thinking back to reports now hidden in his chambers, and his star agent awaiting orders on whether or not to engage with Briala’s people. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “Sometimes the best way to handle a situation is to deal with the problem indirectly,” he said at last.

“Take the halla into protective custody of the Inquisition? Go deliver the halla in person and threaten them with violence if the beast is harmed?” she asked, only half in jest. He laughed.

“Have Cullen’s men escort the creature without any false pretenses of surrender or politics,” he replied. “Let the creature go to the town as what it is—a gesture of goodwill to bring together two opposing families. Send the creature—but choose the men and women assigned to the duty.”

“You mean send some of our Dalish scouts along with the soldiers?” she asked, sounding intrigued.

“Dalish, or elves or even humans who are more…. flexible in understanding the deeper meanings of the exchange. Perhaps someone who can stay for a time, to freely communicate between the clan and the town to allay any fears—on both sides,” he thought aloud, and she nodded, considering it.

“And place an agent in the area as a scout for the region,” she finished, a smile beginning to form. She looked up at him, raising a hand to his cheek. “Mm, I am grateful that I have one advisor whom I can trust to act in the best interest of the elves.”

He responded by leaning down to kiss her, moving his hands to draw her up out of his lap and shift her leg so that she straddled him. She let out a quiet moan and ground against him, her lips seeking out her favorite nibbling spot on his neck. He responded by moving a hand to her breast, and his lips sought the tip of her ear. She pulled back and reached up to bring him back down for a kiss, tightening her legs around his waist, and he deepened the kiss once again, running fingers through her hair.

When she leaned away to catch her breath, Remli looked far more relaxed. She might be upset about her advisors and their lack of tact or sensitivity, but they were no longer first and foremost on her mind. She grinned down at him.

“On a scale of one to ten, how painful do you think the log would be?”

“I am sure that Leliana sent agents to follow at a distance. She was concerned for you,” he replied.

“… We could give them a show…” she said, although she sounded less pleased by the idea. He gave her a quick peck, then whistled. Pride chirped in response, then ambled over to them, Smudge in tow. Solas stood in one swift movement, scooping her up in his arms and supporting her legs to hold her against him a little longer.

“Best not to press our luck,” he said, starting to pull down Smudge’s lead. “Humans tend to be sensitive about such things.” She didn’t let him go, though. As she slid down to stand in front of him, she lifted a knee to brush against his thigh.

“Orrrrr we could take the harts a go a little further into the woods, and make use of the outpost cabin,” she suggested, “Scandalize the scouts and temporarily evict them in the name of elven glory and all that.”

“Slander. I do not say that,” he insisted, but she laughed, pulling away with a final kiss and climbing up onto Smudge.

“You might not, but given how today’s been going, I might.” She grinned. “If you’re not interested in the log and the outpost is also out of the question, how about a quick stop to the war room before retiring to my chambers? Want to shout things in elvish while we have some fun?”

“I hardly think that would be an appropriate response to the situation,” he chided, although he smiled as they turned back towards the keep. “You cannot hold their Human Condition against them, but you can remind them that you do not suffer from such a thing.”

[hallaharted]

The one GOOD thing that happened tonight was that I was able to grab some screencaps of Remli for reference purposes. Still in Haven, but I’m getting there. -__-

[sirladysketch]

Drawtober night 3~ I drew two things tonight but I’m gonna split them up because different fandoms get different responses. :p

This is Remli Lavellan, my main Inquisitor, hanging out with a friendly halla. No real story behind this, I just really like drawing large, soft herbivores, and halla have a soft spot in my heart. Post getting dumped in a wyrm-infested glade, Remli knows that the only one she can really rely on are her harts and halla (and Fluffy the undead unicorn).

If I end up doing more livestreams like this I’ll be sure to remember to post about it next time, haha whoops. Thank you for hanging out, @raynnromantica! <3

[sirladyscripts]

After the Inquisitor and her companions complete Keeper Hawen’s final request, he invites them to join the clan for the night. Solas gets moody, thinking about the way things were for his people and how they are now. Remli tries to allay some of those worries by painting a different light on the Dalish lifestyle. Post Fade-kiss, pre-balcony Solavellan romance.

Also, no, this is not an April Fools joke. I LIVE!

When the Inquisitor and her party arrived with the last of the pelts for the clan, the sky was already fading to a purple blush with a sprinkling of stars. The clouds burned across the horizon in rich reds and yellows, and the ruined markers along the road stood as tall black shadows against the fading daylight. To the west, the clan’s fires were burning high and the smell of roasting meats wafted through the air, and to the Inquisition troop, weary from a day of hunting the Venatori and the undead, it made the march back to their base camp tents seem all the longer. Remli paused at the edge of the Dalish setting, remembering other clan gatherings around other campfires in what seemed a completely different lifetime ago.

Keeper Hawen found her watching the halla bedding down in the protective cave, her mind miles away. He touched her arm with a small smile that deepened as she blinked away old memories.

“You and your people are welcome to join us for the evening, Da’len,” he said, inviting her towards the fire with the sweep of his hand. “No daughter of the Dalish should spend the night in a shem tent where there are family aravels nearby.”

She looked around the clearing to see where the others of her party were waiting, standing apart from the small band of elves—not in a fearful or disdainful way, it was more a separation of polite respect, a separation of cultures. Of course, Varric seemed most interested in what was going on, scratching his chin and making thoughtful noises under his breath. Cole was… well, she didn’t see him, but she also didn’t hear any angry noises around the camp, so he was probably alright. And Solas… well, Solas was watching her.

When he caught her eye, he gave her a slight smile and nod. Apparently he’d heard Hawen’s offer, and she took the gesture to indicate that he would not be adverse to spending an evening among her people. Whatever previous slights the Dalish had shouldered on him, he seemed willing enough to bear their company tonight, and Varric would go along with it. Maybe he felt that the nearby ruins would provide ample intrigues in the Fade. Maybe he thought her homesick, and believed she would benefit from some time amongst her people once again. Maybe he was hungry—the smell of the spitted meat did smell rather good. And it was a long walk up the river back to the Inquisition camp….

She opened her mouth to thank Hawen for the invitation when her stomach growled, apparently overcome by the scent of cooked venison.  She flushed, sheepish, although Hawen only laughed.

“Dinner, Da’len, and then we shall speak, and you can tell me more of how a child of the Dales comes to lead a pack of humans and.. city elves,” he said, giving Solas a curious glance, but then turning back to guide her towards the fire. As they walked, he motioned to the others of the group to follow suit.

 It was… odd, to say the least. On the one hand, everything felt familiar—over dinner, the laughing and talking of a clan after a busy day, after the meal, the short bursts of song and tales of travels. Sharing news of mutual friends, lauding a youth with freshly inked vallaslin, commiserating on poor traveling conditions. Murmuring prayers for those who had not made the journey, and wondering at the fate of clans and friends lost in the forests, unseen for years.

Of course, it was different, too. The sights and smells that would have once been welcome reminders of home now seemed strange, unfamiliar things in light of her new rituals and habits with the Inquisition. She was looking forward to sleeping under the stars, but a part of her missed the soft blankets and bedroll that awaited her back with the Inquisition supplies. She’d gotten used to the quiet whickerings of their mounts—now, the bleat of a halla gave her pause. It was a normal Dalish sound, part of a normal Dalish camp, but it had become unfamiliar. It made her stop, think, remember. Had she really forgotten the familiar sounds of her people so quickly, to replace them so easily with the sounds of human habitations?

She lifted her gaze from the fire, and caught sight of Solas at the edge of camp. He was alone once again, sitting half in shadow under the trunk of the tree sheltering the aravel. He watched the clan go about the business of settling down before sleep, but his lips were tight, his eyes partially closed. He fiddled with the traces tied to his staff, worrying over some thought that niggled at him.

Something weighed heavily on his mind, so much that he did not realize she approached until she’d touched his arm. He started and his eyes met hers, then some of the tension left his face. She smiled, keeping her touch light.

“Everything alright? You seem...” She floundered at that, trying to decide the best way to describe the slightly sour, thin lipped expression that had settled on Solas’ face. Dorian would have suggested ‘constipated’, and Varric, had he been paying attention, would mention something lewd and potentially rude to the clan. Cole, bless him… well, it was fortunate Cole was with Emalien, they were still working on teaching the boy tact. Remli tsked, then decided to finish the thought with neutrality. “You seem unquiet.”

He sighed and shook his head, turning his attention back towards the heart of the group where bedrolls were being laid out by the fire.  

“I am contemplating the remnants of the People. Are all clans so diminished? Nothing more than a handful of people, scraping out a life from the paltry earth?” he said asked, frowning at the group surrounding the fire. His voice seemed hollow, expression tight, as though the fate of the scattered clans was his burden to bear, and he staggered under the weight.

She wanted nothing more than to embrace him, to help dispel his gloom and draw him closer, into the clan’s warmth. Still, she hesitated—it had been weeks, and there had been moments where he’d seemed like he wanted to say something more, but they had not spoken further of what happened in the Fade, and she was loathe to press him with too much unsolicited physical contact when he wavered on uncertainty. She would not push the matter, not when all signs began to indicate that his interest was not as keen as her own. And he was a private man—unsolicited touch might seem too forward and bold, and unwanted signs of affection might frighten him back behind that cool mask she’d worked so long and hard to draw away.

There was also the clan to consider—their numbers were small, it was true, but their eyes were sharp, and their hunters skirting the camp, keeping watch. And while she didn’t particularly care about scandal or her reputation among the Dalish clans, she knew Solas valued his pride and privacy. She would not cause him any duress with a lingering touch that would become gossip halfway across the Dales by morning.

All in all, she settled for a friendly pat on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, then sat down beside him. Bold, perhaps, but she was the Inquisitor, damn it. She could take some social liberties, especially when she was so intimately familiar with Dalish customs (and when one could feasibly smudge the line of propriety). And Solas had never shied away from her when she sat next to him. Besides, it would be easier to talk, side by side.

She ignored Hawen’s interested glance, and focused instead on pointing out key areas around the campsite.

“Each clan is different in size and build, but I can tell you without hesitation that we’re not seeing this group in its entirety,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile. “Once a clan finds an area to camp for any length of time, everyone sort of wanders off to complete their jobs. Hunters go off to restock the meat stores and keep an eye out for things of interest, while crafters may go out foraging for supplies or things to trade. Firsts and Seconds may go off to perform rituals at local shrines, which can leave them away from the camp for hours or even several days. It’s not uncommon for a clan to scatter while they’re camped—especially after spending extended periods of time in the aravels. I used to sleep in trees, just for the air.”

She pointed to the clan’s aravel, still undergoing repairs. “It may not look like much, but you can fit a fair number of people in one of those, plus supplies. And most of my clan preferred riding or walking along our fleet, so we only had three or four at a time, depending on the time of year and how many supplies we needed to carry with us. But we had 30 to 40 people at any given time, usually.” She gestured out into the woods, shrugging her shoulder.

“And most clans have caches of supplies so they don’t have to carry everything along with them. Warded, of course, and hidden, but there in cases of emergency. I cannot speak for this clan, but Lavellans have multiple areas of rest and restocking all over the Free Marches.”

She laughed, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “And, of course, there are other times that clan members desire privacy—even in times of war, sometimes it’s worth the risk of bedding down away from the rest of your clan, who are more or less your immediate and extended family, and as such feel entitled to knowing each and every intimate detail of your life.”

This brought a small smile, although the tension did not completely fade from his face. He studied the clan members around the fire, then looked beyond the stream to the war-torn fields in the distance.

“Still, it seems such a tentative existence, being at the mercy of the wilds and weather,” he said. “To live such a life, and yet flourish, it is no wonder the Dalish are considered fierce in their clashes with humans.”

“We’re hardly Avvar barbarians, Solas,” she laughed. “We don’t actively stand in thunderstorms, challenging the gods to strike us with inspiration. And we’re not city elves, bending and scraping to every human we meet, trying not to get kicked or killed. We live in the woods, the plains, the hills, the valleys, but that hardly makes us uncivilized.”

She paused, thinking of a mountain of pillows and furs waiting for her back home. “I will concede a point to the humans where beds are concerned, however. It beats sleeping on rocks.”

They fell into silence once again, each lost in their own thoughts. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine they were back in the Free Marches, resting after a long day of hunting in the hills. The smells were familiar, the sound low and welcoming. Hawen even reminded her of her father—a bit, anyway—and his clan had always travelled farther South and West than the Lavellans. It wasn’t surprising that the keepers knew each other—of course they would, given that they would meet at the Arlathvhen, and no doubt kept in correspondence in the years between.

Still, as she sat there and listened to Varric’s attempts at wheedling more information out of the Keeper, it struck her how odd it was to go to the broken Dales, the place of her people, and feel… Pride? Sorrow? Bittersweet nostalgia? That was how she figured she was supposed to feel, anyway, but she also looked forward to camping in the woods with her companions. Human, dwarf, elf, Qunari—their little band had fast become home over the last few months, her own ragtag clan of misfits trying to save the world in their own unique ways—she had to wonder, when had they become more than allies in the war?

“Do you miss it?” Solas asked, interrupting her thoughts. When she turned to him, he gestured to the camp. “Traveling from place to place, visiting familiar sites, hunting in the trees?”

“It’s not like I’m housebound,” she laughed. “Harding seems to report in with new things that need my personal attention on an almost daily basis. And camping in Inquisition tents is not so different than sleeping by the aravels.”

“But clans are families, are they not? Do you not miss your parents, your siblings, your cousins, your friends?” he pressed, although she was uncertain as to why it mattered so much.

She frowned, staring out into the firelight. “Yes and no,” she admitted. “My mother died when I was young, and I had a falling out with my father years ago. I haven’t seen my brother in a long time, and the schism caused… issues… in my position. My last close ties to the clan were to Deshanna, so it was a bit of a relief when she asked me to go to the Conclave.”

She shrugged, toeing the ground with her boot. “To be honest, wandering around with everyone over the last few months has felt like a moving about in a proper clan, so… I suppose I miss Deshanna, and the anonymity and freedom that comes with being an insignificant part of the clan.”

She shifted, looking over the camp, biting her lip in thought. “I once told Cassandra that home was where I was, but I think it’s more accurate to say it’s where I am, alongside the people I’m with. I enjoy the Inquisition’s camping trips, and the company we keep.”

She gave his hand a small squeeze, smiling. “One day I’ll return, I’m sure, but it might not be forever—if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the world is full of amazing places to visit and explore. But I’m not particularly inclined on going anywhere else anytime soon.”

“Cassandra would probably have something to say about it if you did,” he replied lightly, a slight smile on his face. She laughed.

“I don’t think she’d outright yell at me,” Remli conceded, “but I would certainly not hear the end of her exasperated sighs as she chased me around the Dales.” They both laughed at that, picturing Cassandra running about, yelling about the Maker and Andraste having some higher purpose for everything, then making disgusted noises if anything particularly heathenistic occurred. Remli paused, then, a thought coming to her.

“I will return to my clan one day,” she said, tilting her head. “After everything is sorted out and Cassandra is adequately distracted elsewhere, of course. I’d like to see Deshanna again, to let her know I’m alright and to tell her about some of the things we’ve seen in our travels. You’re welcome to come with me if you’d like. I could show you that we really aren’t as ‘diminished’ as you think.”

He lowered his head. “It was unkind of me to speak in such a way,” he said, not meeting her eye. “My apologies, I spoke out of turn.”

“It was not unkind, it was uninformed,” she said, trying to soften her words with a smile. She dipped her head to catch his eye. “Come with me,” she repeated, squeezing his hand once again. “It’s really not such a terrible fate as you seem to think. I think you would like Deshanna, and I know our First would love talking to you about your experiences in the Fade. And it wouldn’t be terribly long—I don’t think the Inquisition forces could do without us for more than a few weeks, and I don’t think I could take many of Deshanna’s lectures about being a proper Da’len.”

She laughed, although Solas shook his head. “I am not sure that would be… ,” he stopped, seeing her expression falter. “Perhaps,” he finished with a small smile.

“The keeper’s face darkens at the words, anger and betrayal, hand raised, a flash of light, a ward to hold off the night—‘I will hear no more of your lies.’ The man is gone but He remains in dreaming, dealing, done. Sometimes it is best not to say anything when you know the truth will hurt,” said Cole, appearing between them. He turned his face to look at Remli, and his wide-brimmed hat effectively hit Solas in the face, separating them. “It’s better to remain silent than to tell a lie. But he doesn’t want to lie, not to you, so he says what he wants, not what he knows.”

“You know, most men just settle for asking their object of affection questions about themselves, saying what they think the lady wants to hear,” Varric interrupted, calling over his book as he scratched notes into his journal. “It might work out better for you in the long run if you try that tactic, Chuckles, instead of asking why the Dalish are so diminished. A little flattery might improve your chances.”

Beside Varric, Hawen gazed at Solas and the Inquisitor with an indulgent smile, looking for all the world like a proud father seeing his child well-matched. Solas shifted away from the Inquisitor and Cole ever so slightly, straightening his back.

“Am I not permitted curiosity in learning more of the Dalish customs, Child of Stone? It seems you have taken an interest in the clan culture as well,” Solas replied, voice cool. He sounded completely unfazed, although Remli could see the tips of his ears were blushed pink.

Varric wasn’t put off, either. “Yes, but my questions have to do with coming up with names for characters and descriptions of how things work around camp. Things Daisy never really wanted to tell me about, and things that Longshot says are boring. But your questions sound suspiciously like you’re trying to learn what to expect when you go home to meet her parents. Interested in becoming clan Lavellan’s mage in reserve?”

Remli laughed, taking pity on Solas and pulling Cole up with her as she got to her feet. “There’s no shame in wanting to learn more about another people’s culture, Varric,” she chided him, although she softened her words with a smile. “Didn’t you have to learn odd human customs when you first started travelling with Cassandra?”

“I’m a surface dwarf, which means we more or less live like humans. But Cassandra’s customs more or less involved grumbling about ingrates and walking at a very fast pace,” Varric replied, closing his book of notes. “And asking a lot of questions about things that really had nothing to do with what she claimed she was investigating at the time.”

“Oh? And just how close were you to the Champion?” Remli asked, grinning as Varric flinched.

“Fine, fine, I retract my questions. I’m sure Solas asks out of curiosity after waking up from all of his adventures in the Fade to find the real world not quite as brilliant as they are in his dreams.”

“Things aren’t brilliant in the Fade, but they do glow,” supplied Cole, picking up a bedroll and flapping it out as if to fluff it. “Brilliant means that something is too bright to look at, but most things in the Fade are soft. Except for the Inquisitor. She burns a radiant fire in the Fade. She is brilliant.”

“That’s… helpful Kid, thanks,” Varric replied. “I honestly don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that, but I guess I can work it into the book somehow.”

“Or you could not write a book about it,” said Remli, flushing. “I don’t know how comfortable I am with the thought of you describing me glowing like a torch. You’d have a far more realistic book if you talked about that time we were up to our asses in bog muck than waxing poetic about visions in the Fade.”

“Some of us were up to our chins in that muck, thank you,” lamented Varric. “I still worry about finding crap in my chest hair. Besides, people don’t want realism, they want escapist literature so they can forget about the state of the world for a while.”

“So you’re telling me that describing how the Champion’s consort punched his fist through a man’s heart makes the real world a little more bearable?” she asked.

“Ok, see, that’s the problem with you people. You get up to such weird shit that the things you do seem impossible. Yes,” he staved off Cole’s pending interruption. “Fenris really did pull out someone’s heart with his fist. Just like you really did walk out of the Fade, and you really did pull a mountain down on top of your head and survive, and you really do go riding around Thedas on an undead horse.”

“Fluffy has nothing to do with this!” she protested.

“Point is,” Varric continued as though she hadn’t interrupted, “You’ve gotta level out the weird realism with normal realism, or people won’t take you seriously. Hence my questions about living in the clan. See? A legitimate reason for inquiry, no hidden agenda at all.” He gave Solas another meaningful look, although the mage refused to take the bait. “I want to know the way things are.”

“Well, the invitation is an open one,” she said, trying to steer the conversation back towards their travels. “If any of you have an interest in joining me when I return to my clan, you are welcome to come. See for yourself, the life of a Dalish clan is not so wild or exciting as you might think. We don’t dance naked in the moonlight unless the wine is particularly strong and we are extremely young and foolish. We eat, we sleep, we go about our daily lives without much variation. If everyone comes it might be prudent of me to send prior warning, but…” she laughed. “Deshanna always did say I was full of surprises.”

A quiet cough drew her attention back into camp, where Hawen walked towards their little group. “Sylvirem’lin,” he said, pretending as though the whole clan had not heard them bickering. “I apologize for the intrusion, but we’re going to let the fires burn down for the night. We’ve prepared pallets for you and your companions if you’re ready to retire.”

She smiled, ducking her head in thanks and deference to the man who was putting them up—and putting up with them—for the night.

“Ma serannas, Hahren,” she said, flushing a bit in embarrassment. “We appreciate your hospitality, and thank you for your kindness. I apologize for our noise—a terrible habit I’ve picked up from the humans during my stay.”

He smiled at that, gesturing towards the clearing where the other bedrolls lay. “It is good to hear you so at ease among such an… odd company,” he hedged, although there was humor in his voice. “And it is good to see that you are well looked after.” There was a very deliberate look in Solas’ direction, but Remli tactfully sidestepped the implied question.

“I have been very fortunate in my recent adventures, both in companionship and in our challenges,” she agreed, not daring to look at her friends. “And while it is not an easy path by any means, I am grateful for the ways things are.”  

[sirladysketch]

Character Ask

I was tagged by @candystrippers, thanks! Been a while since I did one of these. :)

Rules:

1. Pick an original character!  

2. Fill in the questions/statements as if you were being interviewed for an article and you were the character/muse

3. Tag people to do the same: Anyone who wants to do it, maybe @warsonghold, @mindtrove @raynnromantica @ofdalishorigin?

Written short-story style (sort of) below the cut:

Remli would be having words with Josie when all was said and done. It probably wouldn’t come to blows (probably), although she would ditch the formal dinner and go out for a hunt in quiet rebellion as soon as the interview concluded.

An elderly Orelsian noble sat poised on the edge of her seat, quill in hand and portable desk in place. Remli had forgotten the woman��s name already, something frilly and difficult to wrap the tongue around, not that the Inquisitor would be able to read the article the woman was putting together, anyway. Why on earth did Orlesians keep popping up and asking her about things that were none of their business? And why did they expect her to tell them everything when they openly admitted that they would be publishing her responses? Leliana would have to explain the logic behind it at some point, maybe it was a ‘human’ foible.

Still, she could play her part. Remli tightened a smile in place and sat patiently as the old woman went through a list of questions for her interview. It might have been the mask muffling the Inquisitor’s replies, or perhaps it was the woman’s own failing health that had her shouting at Remli, despite the intimate setting. Remli forced herself not to flinch at each loud inquiry and held a cup of tea to occupy her hands from less murderous tasks.

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

I am Inquisitor Remli Lavellan.

2. NO SERIOUSLY WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME

My full name is Sylvirem’lin of clan Lavellan, if that is what you ask. It means “Flying or Airborn one.” I prefer “Remli” however. I’ve seen some... interesting interpretations in the spelling of Sylvirem’lin.

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT?

My clan has a coming of age tradition where one chooses the name they wish to carry into adulthood. I chose the name because I hunted from the tops of trees, keeping to the windy and high places.

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN?

I.... I am apart from my beloved at the moment, but he is never far from my thoughts or dreams.

5. DO YOU HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS?

I am no mage, if that is what you mean. I am adapting my skills to the loss of my arm, but this has not hindered me in completing scouting missions and other things on the field.

6. STOP BEING A GARY STU.

... My apologies, I find that sometimes I do not understand human phrases or terms. If you have a complaint of my conduct, please file it with Lady Montilyet.

7. WHAT IS YOUR EYE COLOR?

Green.

8. HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR?

Auburn....

9. HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS?

I have a half-brother whom I have not seen in years and a father in even longer time. Keeper Lavellan was like a grandmother to me for many years growing up, and I’ve come to feel as though the people who joined me under the banner of the Inquisition have become my new family.

10. I SEE… WHAT ABOUT PETS?

I don’t understand this human fascination with keeping creatures as objects of amusement. I have a persistent herd of harts that follow me about when I’m in the courtyard, and the keep’s cats seems to have decided that my room is now theirs. I do not keep a “pet” in the sense that you mean, however.

11. TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE.

I am not overly fond of shoes or clothing that’s only purpose is to dazzle.

12.  DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING?

I enjoy spending my free time walking the woods around the keep with my harts. I spend my free time in the evenings beside the hearth with a book or visiting with friends when they return to Skyhold.

13. EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE?

I assume you mean emotionally. Yes. I think it is unavoidable sometimes.

14. EVER…KILLED ANYONE BEFORE?

Only those who have attacked me and mine.

15. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU?

Do you mean what animal would I wish to be? In my youth, I would have said an eagle or a halla. Now... now I find such fancies foolish. I do feel more kinship with lone wolves, however.

16. NAME ONE OF YOUR WORST HABITS.

Agreeing to favors of friends before fully determining what it is they ask of me.

17. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL?

I know a great number of people who have admirable qualities, there is no single person whom I hold in high esteem.

18. SEXUAL ORIENTATION?

I never truly gave it much thought, as it never seemed that it would be an opportunity for me. I was not prepared for the attraction that grew towards Solas.

19. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL?

A Dalish hunter had no need for such institutional learning, although members of my clan taught me things like sewing and cooking. An old human woman taught me to read and write during a time of... healing.

20. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS ONE DAY?

I... I do not foresee that as a possibility for me, although it is a pleasant dream.

21. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF?

Now? Not doing enough to make a difference.

22. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR?

*sigh* Just because I am Dalish does not mean I cavort about in the nude. I wear clothing that is light and does not inhibit movement. I usually have light leather armor on at least-- Corypheus may be defeated, but the world is still dangerous.

23. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE?

Yes.

24. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? (HIGH/MIDDLE/LOW)

I suppose the title of Inquisitor would imply that I have some standing in the nobility, but I’m not sure what “former Inquisitor” would entail. I still have Skyhold, so I suppose “Landholder” would suffice. It is more than what a clan would have, at any rate.

25. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE?

I have been fortunate in meeting and befriending a great number of extraordinary people in my travels, yes.

26. THOUGHTS ON PIE?

I enjoy the savory pies prepared by Skyhold’s talented cooks.

27. FAVORITE DRINK?

The Iron Bull introduced me to hot cocoa, which is a wonderful pleasure on a long, cold night.

28. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE?

I’ve been to many fascinating places in my travels, although I find the beauty of the Emerald Graves particularly lovely.

29. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN?

I’m afraid I’ve never really been much for swimming. I prefer wading in streams or pools.

30. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN ANYONE?

I... didn’t I answer this already?

31. WHAT’S YOUR D.CK SIZE?

... Have you been speaking to our resident Red Jenny?

32. WELL, WHAT’S YOUR TYPE?

I do not have a type. I am attracted to the person, not a particular “type.”

AND WHAT ATTRACTS YOU?

I... hm. I am not sure what first attracted me to Solas. I suppose it was the sense of kinship I felt at first during those early days at Haven, and it grew to appreciation for his humor, gentle spirit, and passion for the things he loved. Now, I... it’s complicated.

33. ANY FETISHES?

... What sort of article are you writing? I thought this was a public relations piece?

34. SEME OR UKE? TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE?

I will not debase myself or my beloved to answer such a thing.

35. CAMPING INDOORS OR OUTDOORS?

What on earth is camping indoors? Is this an Orlesian pasttime?

36. ARE YOU WANTING THE QUIZ TO END?

Am I being quizzed? I am not sure what you mean, but yes, I believe this interview is over. Do make sure that you send your draft to Divine Victoria before your publication goes to print. I would not want to be the one who displeases Leliana with stories that might lead to... well. I’m sure you will have the good sense to write what is in the best interest of all parties.

[sirladysketch]

Adventures in screencapping continues, I’m starting to get some OK pictures of my Inquisitors, woo. I just need to figure out how to pause cutscenes and remove subtitles and other GUI features, lol.

Anyway, Remli Lavellan, everyone! Fulfills an ancient ask tag from many moons ago

[sirladysketch]

Next up from tonight’s Drawtober session is a group of sketches, from top left:

Cor Leonis (FFXV)

Norman (Paranorman)

Remli Lavellan (Dragon Age Inquisition)

Solas (Dragon Age Inquisiton)

Kagome Higurashi (Inuyasha)

Sephiroth (FFVII)

Tonight was all about experimenting with techniques and speed; some things are rougher than others, but over all I’m happy with how things turned out!

[sirladysketch]

Some of the art from tonight’s stream (stuff I liked, anyway).

Top two are Remli Lavellan during Trespasser-- I liked both the textured and untextured versions, so you guys get both. :)

Bottom is nothing in particular, I just felt like drawing clouds.

[sirladysketch]

Tonight’s doodle, a scene from my fic “Paper Trails,” when Solas reveals himself as the Dread Wolf to Remli.

You can read it HERE.

Thank you for joining me tonight, you guys! <3

[sirladysketch]

Annnnd posting this separately ‘cause I like the colors.

Still got a ways to go with refining edges, placing objects/characters (believably), and contrast, but.... I think I did ok. <insert Tony Stark gif here>

[sirladysketch]

Thank you all for joining me tonight! <3 Have a fade family portrait, haha. XD

[hallaharted]

I’d forgotten that I’d grabbed these shots of Remli while figuring out how to take pictures in-game. PS4 controls are kinda weird, and it’s tough to get decent shots, but I will probably go back and try some more screen shots later.

[sirladysketch]

Still trying to decide whether or not I like ArtRage.... I can tell you one thing, the damn watermark is annoying. :p

Remli Lavellan, close to the end of Trespasser. I may have gone a little overboard with the glitter tool.

[sirladysketch]

I felt like doing the Inquisitor drawing meme thing and figured it would be good practice for my daily doodles.

1. Skyhold Outfit

She’s rocking the Venture Capital outfit that was added with Trespasser (which you can see HERE) She is totally ogling Solas, haha.

EDIT-- WHOOPS forgot her Valaslin! Added, but left the romanced!Lavellan version too.

[sirladyscripts]

Just a short thing to prove that I’m still alive! ... Sorry I’ve been remiss in releasing writing lately... -__-

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Varric asked, pouring out a cup and pushing it across the table. The Inquisitor’s lip twitched, a small ghost of a smile flitting across her face as she took a sip of the offered drink.

“Does that line ever work outside of one of your books?” she asked in turn, reaching over to filch a potato wedge from his plate. She grinned at his mock protest, going back for a second, stealing a bit of sauce to add insult to injury. “Actually, does the line even work in your books? Can’t a girl just want to shoot the breeze with an old friend? How long are you here this time?”

“A week, maybe two. I’m afraid my editor has me on a tight leash,” he gave a dramatic sigh, although there was a smile on his face. “She keeps threatening to lock me up in some tower until the manuscript is done, but then she insists on dragging me halfway across Thedas on these book tours. I’m starting to suspect that she’s been getting pointers from Seeker on the abduction and keeping of dwarves.”

The Inquisitor laughed, a low sound that would have been lost in the din of the tavern’s patrons had they not taken their drinks to the third floor. The Kid was nowhere to be seen, and it was easier to chat here than below, fewer chances of getting interrupted by well-wishers and demanding fans.

“Anything I can do to convince you to run away with me?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows comically. “Josie’s gotten an odd letter from some professor in the Frostback Basin, and I could use an expert marksman by my side.”

Varric laughed, raising his own glass.  “When you put it like that, Longshot, I’d be a fool to say no. Hell, my editor would order me to tag along. The scandal itself would sell thousands of copies of the next book, not to mention the weirdest shit happens to you, so any new adventures are guaranteed to be prime sequel material.”

“Oh, you’re actually writing a book about… all of this?” she asked, frowning a little. “I thought you were joking.”

“I’m in the process of finishing up the final draft,” he said as he refilled their drinks. “Taking longer than expected, mostly because my editor keeps asking me if I’m sure that what I wrote is really how it happened. Honestly, I thought shit couldn’t get weirder after Kirkwall, but you’ve never half-assed anything in the time I’ve known you, so I thought it would be best if I set the records straight about what you got up to.”

“Hmm,” she replied, staring into her drink. She frowned a little, raised the mug to her lips, but didn’t drink immediately. She lowered her hands after a few heartbeats, sighing into the quiet. “Everything?”

“Well, I took out the bodice-ripping scenes per your request,” he defended himself, although he shrugged with a bit of a smile. “But I left in that time Vivienne walked into your tent unannounced. Ah, and that time in the Emerald Graves when you came back to camp dressed only in a shirt—don’t give me that look, I have to give the readers something. If I didn’t make you a living, breathing person they’d get it into their heads that you’re some cloistered sister, singing the praises of Andraste.”

“Did you, ah… all of it?” She asked, flushing at the memory.

“You mean did I include the part beforehand where you and Chuckles came back covered in mud and avoided eye contact with the rest of us for the remainder of the trip? Yeah, that made it in there. You can’t make shit like that up, and readers eat it up.”

“Hmm,” she acknowledged, and took a sip from her mug at last. “I hope… I don’t want you to write….” She sighed, and looked up to meet his gaze, reaching a hand out to cover his. “Varric, despite what happened, I don’t want him turned into a villain.”

His eyes narrowed at that, and he pursed his lips. “Longshot, he broke your heart. Twice. I know it’s been a few months, but maybe if he reads about what an ass he was—“

“No,” she said, tightening her grip on his hand. “Don’t you dare turn him into some dastardly ne’er-do-well, who had his way with me and then abandoned me. If you print something that slanders him in any way, I will make an official statement denouncing your book. I’ll send an autographed copy of the statement to your editor,” she threatened, and refused to look away as he frowned at her.

They stared at each other for a few long moments, not wanting to argue, but neither willing to back down. It was Varric who relented first, sighing and patting her hand a few times.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he grumbled, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he blew out a dramatic sigh. “Chuckles isn’t really the villain type anyway. I was thinking more of a dark, melancholic hero with a tormented past. My editor might complain that he’s a bit like Broody, but I’ll make it work out somehow.”

“Thank you,” she replied, giving his hand a tight squeeze before releasing him at last. He shook his head, and wagged a finger at her.

“Don't thank me yet. I expect payment in the form of one more adventure I can add as a supplemental novella. A guy’s got to eat,” he chided, although he grinned. “Tell you what; I’m feeling beneficent, so I’ll let you read what I have so far and you can tell me what you think while we talk to Ruffles’ professor.”

“I’d like that,” she said, taking a drink. Varric eased back in his chair, idly running a finger along the lip of his glass.

“What does this professor want, anyway?” he asked. “A firsthand account of the Rift?”

“Actually, he said he had information about the resting place of the last Inquisitor,” she said, brightening a little as she recalled the letter Josie’d received. “People are so interested in the Inquisition, why not dig a little deeper into its history?”

“Well, history books aren’t really my thing, but there isn’t a lot published about the Avvar. Maybe I can spin a travel piece if you’re just going to be exploring old ruins and whatnot. Although knowing our luck, we’ll probably run into a dragon that farts frost.” He laughed, raising his glass to her once again.

“Here’s to all the weird shit yet to come,” he said. She clinked her glass against his.

“I’ll drink to that.”

[hallaharted]

2. 3, 12, 13

Thank you for the prompts, anon! :D Please see my replies below:

Fromthis Ask the Inquisitor meme

2. What is their sexual orientation?

Remliis more or less pan, although she never really had much of an opportunity toget close to anyone given how much time she spent out and about, hunting on herown. Having little experience in trying to woo someone, she’s never really surehow to tell he difference between friendly and flirty. As such, she’saccidentally flirted with people she’s had no interest in, but probably wouldhave been willing to pursue more relationships with some of her companions hadshe not fallen so hard for Solas.

History-wise,she’d been with two men before joining the Inquisition. Her first experienceswere with the halla keeper from her father’s clan, the man she was supposed tohandfast. The arrangement fell through after a hunting accident left herostracized from the clan. She later learned that he was romantically involvedwith her half-brother, Virleal, much to the disapproval of her father.

Thesecond man she’d been with was a human hunter she met while hunting in the FreeMarches. They’d shared camps a few times, and when he came to her bedroll, shelet him stay. She ended it when she learned of his involvement in the massacreof the Halamshiral alienage.

Whenshe joined the Inquisition, she accidentally gave Blackwall the wrongimpression that she was interested in him. She was never really sure if Bullwas flirting with her or not, but he seemed too intense for her tastes. Shetried flirting with Cassandra, Varric, Dorian, Cullen, and even Scout Harding,although she often meant it as a friendly teasing. She only realized that she’ddeveloped feeling for Solas when he pulled her aside after the attack on Haven,and the Fade kiss decided it. The only member she continued to tease wasDorian, since he gave as good as he got.

3. What do they look like? (addscreenshots, drawings, descriptions!) 

(Picturesto come as soon as I figure out how to work flycam, haha, although I do have a quick character-maker screen on my bio page)

Athleticbuild and somewhat short (even for an elf). She has a smattering of frecklesacross her face, green eyes, a slightly pointed nose, and a broad jawline. Shebears the vallaslin of Mythal, but willingly allows Solas to remove them.

Remli’shair is strawberry blonde, bordering on auburn. She started her time in theInquisition with it in long, coifed braids in a crown around her head. When thebraids turned out to be a liability in fighting the Venatori (too easy tograb), she visited the Black Emporium with Varric, and cut her hair to ashoulder-length bob. Josie convinced her to curl her hair for the Orlesianball, but usually she wants something that’s easy to maintain.

Afterdefeating Corypheus, since she spent less time in the field she started growing herhair out again. By the time Trespasser came around, she was wearing her hair ina simple braid.

12. How do they feel about the Qun?

Shedoesn’t know much of the Qun before she met Bull, and what little she’d heardof them was from human whispers when the clan traveled through towns. From whatshe understood of the Qun, it seemed a bit too black and white for her tastes.The lack of negotiation did not sit well with her, although she was willing tolearn more to see if her initial impressions were wrong.

However,after the fiasco with the Chargers on the Storm Coast (as well as listening tothe conversations between Solas and Bull), she soon decided that they were tooextreme. However, given that they seemed involved with harassing Tevinter, shedidn’t think on them much since she had other, more pressing issues to attendto.

13. How do they feel about the Chantry?

The Chantry is a bit of a mixed bag. Remli can see how wellpeople are motivated by faith, and understands that many people rely onreligion to help them get through troubled times. However, her own agnosticviews and the Chantry’s blatant anti-elf policies make it difficult for her toaccept its religious aspects.

From a political point of view, however, she will be the firstto admit that there are good people within the Chantry trying to do good workto help the people. She would be more than willing to help the next Divine’sefforts to reorganize the institution, if asked for suggestions.

She believes that if the Circles are to be reestablished,they should be centers of learning where mages can freely enter and leave, notprisons. The Templars should return to their original purpose of keeping theland safe from real dangers, and should have an active role in the community sothat they are more inclined to protect the people they serve. The Seekers couldassist with more difficult situations, but ultimately would work amongst theTemplars to keep the peace of the land.