#Taren lavellan

[blarrghe]

DA4 Taren is finished! Short hair because of the arm thing! Eyebags! A thousand yard stare! You love to see it.

[ringneckedpheasant]

dorian and @blarrghe's taren lavellan, in a scene from twelve nights

[elvhenfaer]

Lo Satinalia

From this chapter https://archiveofourown.org/works/31505912/chapters/91660798 by the ever lovely @blarrghe

Flat colors so you can see Taren’s sweet, festive socks & full color, glowy, romantic, holiday magic because these two are the effing cutest.

[serphena]

even after getting used to the clan and his new family, feeling welcome and okay around the camp, Theo still loved to sneak out on his own, which worried the elders and got Taren an extra job of finding him for most of the time

[elfsidian]

The lovely Taren for a trade with @blarrghe ! <3

[reiddoesart]

dorian has two hands

taren belongs to @blarrghe! thanks for letting me draw your boy!

[veiljumpernyssa]

Did a lil thing for @blarrghe​ who was kind enough to write me a thing a couple days ago! More like a week actually, because I’ve been in a funk. But here I am and here is Taren! Bonus:

[sollavallenpitofdespair]

Introducing Inquisitor Taren Lavellan

Started another playthrough with the news of Dragon Age stirring and I’m really happy with how she turned out! Might even write some new fic based around her. Here’s a few things about Taren: Name: Taren Lavellan Background: Even as a child she thirsted for knowledge and always calculated her words before speaking. Whatever she learned it was never enough. She would often break into the Keeper’s aravel just to read everything she could. So named ‘Taren’ for her bright mind. Her clan had dealings with humans and only wanted peaceful existence. Though she would often be reprimanded for her open minded views and distaste for rituals to the Gods, it never stopped her from speaking openly on it. As a result, she clashed with the hunters of her clan whom faithfully served Andruil. She is a stark believer in Justice, and though she has her doubts on the matter she chose Mythal’s markings in full form but in a duller ink. Little known tidbit: Her magic manifested at a very young age. As such she is often teased about the time when she threw a temper tantrum it had resulted in accidentally freezing over the Clan’s water supply for 2 days. Likes: Learning, Reading, Magical Experiments (within safety and reason), Exploration, Wild Berries Dislikes: The Chantry, Organized Religion. Oppression, The Circles, Templars, Being Called the Herald of Andraste

Magic Specialization: Taren does not try to limit herself to only one type. She uses techniques drawn from all forms of magic to further assist her in battle or her goals. Though she found proficiency with Storm Magic and was able to discern how severe an oncoming storm would be for her clan using a combination of the veil and feeling static discharges in the area. She uses ice techniques for meditation purposes, and fire techniques for mana burn off and spell strengthening. When she learns of Arcane Warriors she wishes to hold onto past techniques and honor warriors of ancient past. Beliefs: Pro Mage Rights, Freedom and Knowledge over fear, Pro Elf Rights Companions She Likes: Solas, Cole, Dorian, Varric, Josephine, Leiliana Companions She Dislikes: Vivienne, Sera, Cullen Companions She Tolerates: The Iron Bull, Blackwall, Cassandra Best Friend: Dorian Love Interest: Solas War Tables: Often chose the Spy approach, if not she would choose diplomacy, and rarely listened to Cullen’s advice. She would only use his soldiers to protect refugees and build something. Scars/Markings: Has a scar over her lip and under her left eye. She got it by literally fighting with a human teenager that had wandered nearby their camp and called her a dirty knife ear. She was 12. That’s all for now, enjoy a few screenshots below! But I will always happily take nonnie questions on her if you would like me to elaborate on anything! Even if it’s silly OC prompts.

[mephistominion]

I-

Here’s the character sheet for my lovely Ren Lavellan - She means a lot to me and I loved drawing her looks 🥺 You can find more info about her on my Twitter and my AO3 fic if you’re interested 🥰

[crowsolan]

icons of my baby girl taren

[blarrghe]

What if I used one (1) watercolour brush to slap a bunch of soft colour on this soft baby? what then?

[felandriss]

Taren redrawn.

[elvhenfaer]

Art Req #1 completed!

In celebration of 100 followers, @blarrghe asked if I would do a dealer’s choice cuteness of Taren and Dorian 🌼🌸🌼

I adore them

[serphena]

Lavellan fam doodles (Theo, Lena, @blarrghe's Taren) & Theo's parents

[reiddoesart]

cuddle puddle of Deirdre, Dorian, and the lovely @blarrghe‘s Taren Lavellan! 

[elvhenwarden]

revelations

wc: 863

They came for him late that night. Not bards, not by what he could make of their discreet dress. But it wasn’t difficult to guess they were sent by the Inquisition—who else would endeavor to stay an Orlesian executioner’s justice?

The sour feeling forming in his gut wasn’t a response to the idea that Lavellan’s sentence would be worse, or unjust. The inquisitor had a good head on their shoulders.

He just … didn’t think he could bear facing them. Thom Rainier had intended to die for his crimes here in Orlais, as he should have done long ago.

He meant what he’d said to Lavellan before he left. He admired them, respected them. He couldn’t stand before them now to see the pain he’d caused them. Not that it mattered—what was done was done.

Once back at Skyhold, his guards escorted him to a dim, out-of-the-way room, furnished only with a simple table and a bench. Rubble, lumber, and canvas from recent renovations were piled in a heap in the corner.

He frowned. This was no jail cell. Did they intend to execute him quietly, then? Were that the case, why bother breaking him out of the prison in Val Royeaux and bringing him all the way back here?

The guards left. No shackles, no lock on the door. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t going anywhere. He sat and waited, trying and failing not to think about what awaited him. He couldn’t guess.

However long he might have been left to ponder the outcome of this meeting, he never would have guessed this. “You’re Warden Mahariel—you served during the Blight. You slayed the Archdemon Urthemiel.”

The door opened and Lavellan entered alone, quiet and unobtrusive as always. He’d seen them face down dragons and demons, lead armies, walk through the blighted Fade itself, and yet even now, with his life in their hands, they managed somehow to make themself appear inconspicuous. 

“Inquisitor.”

They nodded, sitting next to him and setting a dark bottle on the table between them.

He was accustomed to the inquisitor saying little, but now the silence stretched until he could no longer abide it.

“I—I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said.

“I knew.”

He stared at them. “You knew?”

“From the moment we met. You don’t have the taint.”

“How would you know that?”

They met his eyes briefly, a ghost of a smile crossing their face. “We both lied about being Grey Wardens.” They smoothed the vanes of one of the dark feathers they always wore on a cord around their neck. “My real name is Mahariel.”

They nodded, still focused on the feathers. “I was … observing the proceedings at the Conclave. Just watching. When I saw what those wardens were doing—I needed time to figure it out before the Chantry could get involved. Humans are quick enough to blame the Dalish when something goes wrong, and if the Wardens were involved—it was safer for me to be someone else.”

It was the most he’d heard them speak at a time, and he had no way to respond. He understood.

“Leliana knows, of course,” they said. “And Morrigan and Alistair. No one else can.”

“Why tell me?”

“You’re a good man. I trust you.”

“Do you?”

Again, a hint of a smile. “No. But more than most.” Then, “I found out everything, except what happened to the original Warden Blackwall.”

“We met in a tavern when I was on the run. I was nothing, a waste of life, but he wanted to recruit me. We headed to Val Chevin for the Joining, but Blackwall insisted on making a stop along the way: an old ruin from one of the previous blights. He said it led to the Deep Roads. I was to go down alone, find a darkspawn, and fill a vial with its blood.”

He swallowed. “When I returned, I found the Warden ambushed by more of the creatures. He took a blow for me.”

Grief and guilt welled up, threatening to suffocate him. “He shouldn’t have died. It should’ve been me.”

He was surprised by the light touch on his hand. Mahariel’s jaw was set, but their eyes were kind. Sympathetic.

“He—he would have wanted me to carry on to Val Chevin, I’m certain. But without Blackwall, there was no proof that I’d been recruited, that I didn’t kill him. I couldn’t go to the Wardens, but I couldn’t just walk away. So Rainier died, and Blackwall lived.”

“We’ve kept this quiet. You can still be Blackwall, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m done running from my past, but I’ve gotten used to Blackwall. Perhaps we can treat it as less of a name and more of a title, almost like Inquisitor. Reminds me of what I ought to be.”

Mahariel nodded. “I can arrange for you to undergo the Joining. Better late than never.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor. For everything. You’ve had more faith in me than I ever had in myself.”

Mahariel uncorked the bottle they’d brought and offered it to him.

He drank, wincing slightly at the sharpness of it.

“What is it?”

They smiled. “Grey Whiskey. What wardens drink.”