#VERSE. ( wot. )

[asha-mage]

Rand, prompt: pain

(CW: Chronic Pain)

Rand peered down into the cup. It was filled with a murky, slightly foul smelling brew, still frothy with crushed herbs and other things Nynaeve had mixed into it. That wasn’t what held him back though- he had taken far worse smelling and tasting droughts from Nynaeve when she had been Wisdom.

"It's Spider's Breath mixed with, Andaly Root and Callum Seed." Nynaeve said over her shoulder. "It should at the least take some of the sting out."

“I don’t think-“ Rand began, trying to make his voice gentle. He did not succeed. There was to little gentleness left in him to put any into his words.

“Don’t you start with me Rand al’Thor.” Nynaeve said without turning around form her scrip of herbs. “If you do we’ll see if you can sit your fancy throne with a sore bottom.” She paused half way to putting a jar full of what looked like tubers back into it’s holster. When she spoke again her voice was soft. “If you can’t even trust your Wisdom to mix cures for you…”

Rand shook his head, eyes widening in shock. “No! No it’s not that! I just….” He put a hand to his side. “I trust you Nynaeve. But I don’t think herbs can ease this.”

Nynaeve turned then to face him and for a long moment they just stared at each other. She knew him better then most, almost as well as his own father. Maybe better in some ways. When you grew up without a mother in the Two Rivers, many of the duties that fell to a mother- from explaining certain facts of life, to teaching the basics herb lore, to matters of manners- fell to the Wisdom instead. She had soothed his fevers, and bandaged his cuts, and taught him which plants never to touch, and which to look for if he needed aid.

She knew when he was in pain, even when no one else did.

“You hide it well.” She said softly. “You bare up that stone mask of yours, never letting it crack, except when your temper flares so hot you can’t help it.” She turned back to her scrip and slipped the bottle into place. “But you are still flesh Rand al’Thor. Flesh and bone and blood. And you can’t keep ignoring that fact. You must care for the flesh, or it will be the death of you.”

Rand felt his mouth thin. “I can’t afford to be flesh Nynaeve. I must be iron. Steel. Cuendillar.” He sighed then forcing his shoulders to slack. “Besides I’ve gotten…used to it.” He reached towards his side with his hand but stopped short of touching the never healing wound. It still felt like it when he had first awoken on Tomon Head: like a hot coal sitting on his skin. It would flare hotter sometimes, with the wrong move or the wrong gesture or even just when he dwelt on it to long. But he had had learned to live with it.

What was one more mark, one burden on his shoulders?

Nynaeve shook her head and pushed the cup forward. “That doesn't mean we shouldn’t try to soothe the pain if we can’t. There is nothing noble in suffering Rand al’Thor. Nothing noble in being in pain when you could have relief.”

Rand shook his head. She didn’t understand. To be a man was suffering, and being strong enough to survive it. But he knew if he said that, she would call it ‘hairy chested drivel’ and force the concoction down his throat anyways.

Nynaeve sighed when he didn’t move to pick up the cup and tugged once on her braid. “For me Rand.” She said, keeping her voice soft even as anger clearly bubbled up beneath. “As a favor, to the woman who was once your Wisdom, and doesn't want to see you hurting.”

There was no way to argue with that, so Rand sighed and raised the cup to his lips. He was right, it tasted just as foul as it smelled, and did nothing for the ache in his side. But he smiled anyways and threw back his shoulders.

“You where right. Better.” He said.

Nynaeve shook her head. She was not fooled. But she said nothing as she turned back to her scrip.

She would learn eventually Rand knew. There was no point dwelling on what could not be mended- and Rand had long ago been broken beyond repair.

[missmacfire]

10 characters/10 fandoms/10 tags

Tagged by @4typercent Thank you!

Gonna spice it up and only do women!

1. Karlach - Baldur's Gate 3, she is such a golden retriever 🥰 a soldier with a heart of gold.

2. Death - The Sandman, she is just lovely ❤️

3. Spanish Jackie - Our Flag Means Death, competent badass, fantastic fashion sense.

4. Olivia Octavius - Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, we love a bad bitch in the house. That she is hot does not hurt either 😏

5. Scorpia - She-Ra: Princess of Power, best hugger! such a sweet soul in a big muscular package.

6. Harley Quinn - DC (but particularly the Harley Quinn cartoon), do she really need a introduction?

7. Moiraine Damodred - The Wheel of Time, for being good she is a such a bad bitch. Really needs to learn how to trust people.

8. Homura - Puella Magi Madoka Magica, 💔 such a sweet girl, and totally transfomed because she will never give up, and she will never let go.

9. Jadzia Dax - Star Trek: Deep Space 9, sassy, smart, love her.

10. Sypha Belnades - Castlevania, competent badass, and not above dick jokes, love her.

There are so many fantastic women left out of this 😭

No idea who has done this but tagging with no pressure: @ahopefulsun @elen-aranel @katebishopofearth @deaderthandoubledead @readingtheentrails @bromelads @shiroisasori @skyhawkwolf @idrisstorey @alpaca-clouds

[markantonys]

One thing that is very different in Donal’s and Barney’s Mats is that Barney’s Mat is sort of… he is sort of tired. I mean he is depressed, while Donal’s is in recovery, obviously, but there was sort of defeat in the way Mat was from the very first episode of the first season, that is just not there in season 2.

For show!Mat it is very, very normal to react positively to the blowing of the horn, although I think Barney’s Mat would have not been so open about it. It’s a very interesting change, and I missed Barney a lot this season, A LOT. I wanted the bad boy vibes back, I wanted him to be a bit of an asshole, because Donal’s Mat is not like that at all and I constantly felt sorry for him and it clashed with the Mat in my head basically. The best way I can explain it is that with Barney’s Mat I sort of had the feeling, that if he decided that he likes me, I could really rely on him. Like he WILL come through and he will bitch and moan, but he’ll be with me. With Donal’s Mat he will try to help even if he dislikes me and maybe even won’t bitch about it, but he might do a shitty job? Which are two very different approaches.

But after the scenes where Rand and Mat meet again, where Mat waits for Rand to leave the city, where he takes drugs and where he feels relief that he is one of the heroes, and then immediately hurts Rand on accident? Like these scenes have sold me on Donal’s Mat. He is my sweet cheese, my rotten soldier. Nynaeve patting Mat’s cheek and not even looking at her supposedly dead friend who is now dying for real? Like I get it, I was “no you are so good you need to know”. It’s a completely different vibe though. I love this Mat and I don’t want any other Mats now.

This change suits show!Mat a lot and I wonder if they planned this change for Barney too, and if they did how would he approach that? He was never that sweet and I doubt that he would have gone for it?

if you are the same anon who worried about tumblr going insane and sending me either 1000 asks or no asks about mat, rest assured i got just the one here! all is well!

to me the differences in the two versions of mat were largely due to them being in different circumstances. even pre-dagger in the first 2 episodes of season 1, mat is a) having a bad time at home and then b) getting dragged on a roadtrip from hell. season 2 when mat gets out of tar valon, that's really the first time we've seen him almost completely carefree, so naturally he's much lighter (and i did see some of barney's darker & defeated mat in donal's Captive Mat in the first 2.5 episodes of s2, just like how i see some of donal's lighter mat in barney's Jokester Trying To Cheer Up His Friends Mat in the first 2 episodes of s1).

but at the same time i do feel some kind of difference in Vibe between barney's mat and donal's mat, in a way i can't really put my finger on but is just down to the fact that of course two different people playing the same character will each put their own little spin on that character! for example, i definitely get what you're describing of s2 mat feeling more like a lovable doofus and s1 mat more like an asshole with a heart of gold haha

it's also interesting to consider that barney's mat was written entirely with the original plan for mat in mind, and donal's was written entirely with the revamped plan for mat in mind, so that could also explain some differences! it is quite possible they wanted to make mat more of a lovable doofus in s2 because they knew him staying behind at the waygate was an unplanned change that made him look bad in the eyes of many viewers (not me though!), so they wanted to try extra hard to make him sweet and likable and pitiable in s2 to compensate. and there was for sure a shift in motives for mat between s1 and s2: in s1 he's a reluctant participant in The Plot because he's getting dragged along and just wants to go home to his sisters (more of the "doesn't WANT to be a hero" vibe) whereas in s2 he's a more eager participant in The Plot because hates himself for abandoning his friends and desperately wants to make up for it (more of the "doesn't think he CAN be a hero" vibe).

yeah, now that i'm writing it out i've convinced myself that it WAS the unplanned changes to mat's arc due to the actor switch that's really the key difference between barney's mat and donal's mat! and specifically the changes to his motivations and his willingness to participate in the plot. because s1 mat WAS a grouchier and more reluctant hero even without the dagger's influence, but s2 mat is so desperate to be good and to do good specifically because of the Great Waygate Abandonment. so i certainly don't think this change was planned or would've happened if barney had continued in the role, because his departure was precisely the thing that necessitated the change!

anyway, cosigned on mat being my sweet cheese and my rotten soldier and on him needing to know that he's good!!!!

[twicetolivetwicetodie]

Rand al'Thor and Anakin Skywalker Parallels

Okay, I said I was gonna do this so let's go. Warning: this is full series spoilers for Wheel of Time so if you do watch the show and don't want Rand's arc spoiled, look away!

First thing's first, they're both the Chosen Ones of their perspective stories. Anakin being called the Chosen One, Rand with the titles the Dragon Reborn, He Who Comes With the Dawn, Car'a'carn, and Coramoor (all Chosen One in all those cultures)

Prophecies foretell that Anakin will bring balance to the Force (though afaik they're pretty vague on how he's supposed to accomplish this). The prophecies regarding Rand are complicated and unending and too much for this one post but the gist of it is that he will both save and destroy the world.

Anakin was born of Shmi Skywalker but has no father (the Force made him possible). Rand was born to Tigraine Mantear former Daughter-Heir to Andor and Janduin, clan chief of the Taardad Aiel. Tigraine was a Maiden of the Spear sworn to take no husband so that's where the Maiden birth fits in here.

Trauma is an ongoing theme here as neither of them can seem to catch a break. Anakin was enslaved as a child, loses his mother, is tortured a numerous amount of times (I've lost count the amount of times he's electrocuted in Clone Wars), and loses many soldiers under his command as well as the enormous pressure of being the Chosen One. He is constantly being told to suppress his emotions as anger will only lead to the Dark Side however he is never given the space or even any idea how to process his trauma. He loses Ahsoka due to her being kicked out of the Jedi Order due to the Jedi's own mistakes. Even after she is exonerated and very rightly leaves the Order, he's expected to keep his emotions under control and pretend everything is fine with this entire situation. Sidious groomed him for the Dark Side from a young age and ultimately ended up weaponizing his trauma.

Rand had a relatively normal childhood until Winternight when everything went to hell. Trollocs attack his village and he finds out he's adopted leading to the first of many identity crises. He's forced to leave the only home he's ever known and leave his adopted father behind who means everything to him. He and his friends are pursued across the world by Shadowspawn and Darkfriends who mean to turn him over to the Dark One, he's repeatedly tortured in his dreams every night by Ba'alzamon, and by the end of EoTW he discovers he can channel, which in this world means he's doomed to go insane the more he uses this magic.

He finds out he's the Dragon Reborn and the pressure of that adds onto his ongoing trauma of being pursued by Forsaken, being used and abused over and over and over again by people who are supposed to help and protect him, having the voice of his previous life in his head, losing people under his command and he blames himself for every last one. Everyone around him gaslights him into believing his trauma isn't real and that his very real PTSD symptoms are a result of him using the corrupted side of the magic system.

Rand suppresses his emotions as a coping mechanism and outwardly presents a mask that he feels nothing. These emotions he is not allowing himself to feel otherwise he would not be able to function he is funneling over to the voice of his previous life as Lews Therin. We as the reader experience his true emotions via Lews Therin. And I can't end this without mentioning when a group of Aes Sedai kidnap him and force him in a box to take him to the Tower, only to take him out to beat him with the Power, an extended torture that takes place for two weeks.

Both have lost a hand. Anakin lost a hand when Count Dooku cut if off with his lightsaber in Attack of the Clones. Rand lost a hand when Semirhage burned it off by channeling a fireball at him in Knife of Dreams.

Both of their falls I think are incredibly similar. Anakin kneels to Sidious begging him that he'll do anything just help him save Padme. In the Gathering Storm, Rand kneels to Semirhage and begs her that he'll do anything, just stop hurting Min. These end differently as Anakin ends up swearing to Sidious and becoming Darth Vader. Semirhage refuses to stop hurting Min, so Rand breaks the one line he won't cross and kills her with Balefire, but not without briefly channeling the True Power to escape his bonds; a Power only those sworn to the Shadow can wield.

After his fall, Anakin kills the younglings. For Rand an equivalent would be Natrin's Barrow, where he balefires an entire city out of existence just to get at the Forsaken Graendal.

As far as their return to the light goes, both is accomplished by a family member. Anakin is brought back by his son Luke. In Rand's case, it's his father Tam.

The Jedi and the Aes Sedai both have significant roles in both their arcs which includes losing trust in them after a certain point. They're both orders of magic users that did good in the world at one point in time but at some point lost their way or became corrupted.

The Jedi become majorly involved in the Clone Wars despite their vow of being peace keepers. They're aware of the origin of their clone army by the end of season 6, yet they decide to do nothing. Ahsoka being kicked out of the Jedi Order is Anakin's last straw. She's invited back in, and yet the Jedi refuse to change despite recognizing that they did Ahsoka wrong.

The Aes Sedai get involved in things that further their own ends or "Control the world with puppet strings" as some put it rather than their purpose of being "Servants of All". They deny the existence of the Black Ajah and pretend they haven't infiltrated their ranks. A faction of Aes Sedai kidnapped and tortured Rand for two weeks and the rest of the Aes Sedai refused to hold them accountable.

Both Anakin and Rand are Chosen Ones who cracked under the pressure and experienced persistent trauma.

I'm gonna end with a quote by Rand that seems pertinent to both of them.

"My life isn't my own. I'm a puppet for the Pattern and the prophecies, made to dance for the world before having my strings cut." -Rand al'Thor, The Gathering Storm

[wellfell]

i think , akina's most unfixable verse is her wheel of time one because she basically thinks she's a god after changing the weather all on her own . and until that delusion breaks when she realizes she can't manipulate the dreams like the forsaken can , she's the worst human being ever . that's until the end of season two and i promise she gets better but she still rolls her eyes if you tell her she needs to be patient and use her words instead of breaking people's necks when they tell her no .

[akacosima]

"We didn't get it right but, love, we did our best".

And we will again.

All Things End, Hozier

[factiousfcrged]

They'd called it an honor, especially for one like him, who had nothing, who came from nothing, whose life had been little other than pain and blood and sweat and tears, in one form or another, since as long as he could remember. An honor, to fight for the Wielders that protected the kingdom. A chance at a life of service in the name of something greater than oneself.

For him, it was nothing more than what he had always known. Pain, blood, sweat, rising before sunrise and training until after the sun had set. The difference for him, was that in this arena, he was respected. Feared -- to him, they were the same. He was given a room, a bed, clothes to call his own, food, treatment for the wounds he sustained in his training. These things made it better than the chapters of the life that he had known before. Coin, in his pocket, and that was a rarity.

He spent none of it. Hoarded it, for the inevitable day that they would finally declare him too unfit for the Warders. Too feral. Too angry. Too incapable of holding back, too given to violence without the capacity or the care to stem the unbridled anger that had been his only comfort and recourse in his life til now. What reason would he have to give it up, now? It would only be a matter of time before they found that none of the Wielders would want him, and then, he would be free to go on his way. What that life would mean, or bring, he did not know and it did not matter.

This day had not been all that different from the ones that came before. Another series of bouts. Another set of rebukes for his inability to hold back. Another mark in his book. He did not see the point of restraint. They wanted to see what he was made of. They wanted to know what he could do. No enemy would hold back, so why should he. He made his way back to the rooms - carved out of sandstone, one next to the other, with no doors, no locks - he for one was happy enough to trade the lack of privacy for the lack of a cage. He stripped the tunic off, using the bedraggled fabric to wipe away the worst of the blood and sweat, tossing it into the corner of the room, finally turning his head to glance back over a broad shoulder to spare an almost dismissive glance to the man that stood, leaning almost languidly against what would've been a doorframe of the room, if it'd had a door.

"If you came for the show, you've come too late."

@aeternals / faux wot verse.

[lrdvyke]

can you not distinguish truth from fiction? or were you never taught the difference?

He laughs. There is no mirth to the sound, nor a subtle hint of sadness therein. Instead, there is nothing to it. A sound as if that is all that is needed in answering the question posed to him. He lives, so he suspects, upon this earth and what has been fiction, now is nothing but the truth. While truths, ones he has slept so calmly with, with nary a thought of them being untrue, have suddenly become just so. Vyke ekes out the sound, a wide-eye sort of stare into what he believes to be the horizon past his wits, and it ends with a cringe that flicks over pallid features until the wind pushes it away.

❛ You ask such to be cruel, do you not? ❜ Lanfear, Daughter of the Night, a heavy name that whispers across eons and ages. Vyke knows of her, in a sense as does everyone even if only in nightmares or stories to tell the shadows at night. He has not lost his grip yet. His mind is still his own, but sometimes he wonders, like now, with a specter come real before him asking if he knows truth from fiction as if it were easy. He grits his teeth, feels the taint of power within—calling him real, but knowing he is false. It rings hollow.

Crooning whispers beg him to continue on, towards the blight and its own creeping darkness where no stars pass through. Darkfriend is but a name like any other, one need not fear the coming of what can solve, what can bring forth what no other could. There is only so much one could see and know within the closed borders of Shara's wilds. Coming south has been much akin to dragging him out into the light, igniting comforts ablaze.

❛ I do not think it matters anymore. Only that it is, and it is not, ❜ he says at last, looking over to the woman framed in dark hair, his own milk-pale eyes a semblance of the freckles that dot the night shroud. ❛ Why do you care so? ❜

@somniamarum !

[brittlefcrged]

The city is just as crowded and chaotic as the Tower, but the seer finds the distractions there less taxing -- even a small amount of distance from the thrum and pulse of the power that flows through nearly all of the occupants in the Tower is a small relief. It also helps that there were few in the marketplace she frequented that knew who she was; the one benefit to the opulent trappings that the sisters often wore in their comings and goings through the city generally meant that she often garnered little attention in her middling and comfortable garb.

Clad now in her sensible and worn to comfortable riding boots, the tanned breeches, light blue tunic bound in place with the darker blue long scarf wrapped around her waist, there wasn't much to draw attention to her individually. The thin leather, dark blue gloves were not distinct, and her Serpent ring was tucked safely beneath her shirt. The dagger at one hip was well made and razor sharp, but not ornate enough to attract the eyes of any experienced thief and she never spent more than a few marks, and mostly that was on food and drink or perhaps a bolt of fabric or some small delicate jewelry or lace or beadwork.

The market was abuzz with the cries of merchants hawking their wares, of customers arguing and bartering and conversing and the rich scents of perfumes, herbs, food and wine being offered were either a delight to the senses, or overwhelming. Today, she found it to be the first. She held a fresh pastry wrapped in a handkerchief in one hand, the flaky delight stuffed with a sweet jam and candied nuts in one hand that she nibbled away at, the other a tankard of mulled, dark red wine. She was nearly finished with her wine, debating whether to return for a second, when something caught her eye.

Or rather, someone. Someone, passing in front of her, that struck her as both unknown, and familiar. The flash of images came quickly, unbidden, and she forced herself to breathe through the cascade, as memories of dreams that had been forgotten played through her mind's eye. David. The name was on her tongue before she realized it, spoken in a tone that implied familiarity. "David --" Had she spoken his name aloud, or had she simply projected it, from her thoughts to his? "I ... " She takes a step closer, a furrow creeping between her brows before she smooths it away. "That is your name, isn't it?" His eyes were the clearest blue that she thought she'd ever seen. "David?" She felt like she had known him for a lifetime just as she knew that they had never met.

@aeternals / david. wot.

[aeternals]

@factiousfcrged said, ❝ i want you to feel safe with me. ❞

truth be told, something was on the air that had desiderius bristling. he had no idea what it was, only that it wasn't coming from his connection to amos. being in or near the tower put him on edge but that didn't seem to be it, either. more like something was coming. people had been whispering of the oncoming prophecy but this was the first time he had to wonder if it was more than just talk.

so, he'd been a little more flustered and on edge. several times he'd gone completely silent on amos because all his walls flew up. in the days they'd spent travelling back to the white tower desi barely said a word. unfortunately, the change in demeanor made people look at him a certain way. that way. the way people looked at others who acted far too important and above the status quo. he felt bad and had considering trying to ease those feelings but he couldn't find the words to do much more than nod in response.

after a bath and a refusal to touch dinner, desi slipped into a loose pair of pants to walk around their room until the desire to sleep pulled at him. he'd started leaning against the carved window frame, looking at the bustling street below. the movement helped but it also prevented him from realizing a gentle hand was going to pull him back and away.

he was guided several steps to the edge of the bed. almost on instinct he straddles over amos's waist. arms rest on his warder's shoulders with several fingers starting to idly stretch at the base of his skull. was that worry he felt coming from the other man? confusion, maybe? hard to tell since there was very little experience there.

eyebrows pinch together, almost as if the words have a hard time registering. " i do feel safe with you, lion, " he leaned in for a light kiss against the tip of the other's nose. they'd come a long way from the initial argument they had in his living quarters and that thought along managed to cut through everything to bring out a smile. " i've never felt safer with anyone. why do you think i don't? is it because i've been too deep in my own head? "

[asha-mage]

Padan fain/ishamael. Redemption

[Send me a character or pairing, and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!]

Ishamael’s fingers where like a corpse’s: cold and stiff with faint discoloration at the nails and the tips. It made Padan want to snarl. It made him want to bite into the flesh of them and drink in the man’s accursed blessed blood.

“The Shienaran has left us.” Ishamael mused as he stroked Padan’s neck, almost scratching it. “It seems he craves redemption.”

Padan Fain couldn’t help but snort. Redemption? After all they had sworn? All they had done? It was no easy thing, being a Friend of the Dark, and no clean thing either. Not for Queens or beggars. Better to embrace it.

“His hunger for more died then?” Fain murmured. He could not imagine it. His own hunger had burned so long, so hot, deep in his belly- for more, for what he was owed, for what he deserved, that only the promises made by the Great Lord could dull the pain of it, even a little.

Ishamael laughed, a dark, terrible sound and for a moment his hands closed around Fain’s neck. Fain expected the life to be choked out of him in the next second. The whims of the Chosen where like that. But instead finger nails only dug lightly into his skin.

“No. But it was overcome. By hope.” Ishamael’s soft voice turned hard at the last word, almost spitting it with disgust. “That vicious lie, the one that keeps the Wheel grinding.”

Padan felt the urge to cackle. “Not a defect I share, I promise you Great Master.”

Ishamael’s nail dug deeper. “No. There is no redemption for you, Padan Fain, is there?” There was amusement in that voice now, and something else- respect. “You crave to deeply for that.”

In answer, Padan nipped at the edge of Ishamael’s palm, a shiver running through his body as he tasted skin. Even the Chosen where just flesh, in the end.

Ishamael laughed and then the lights started to dim of their own accord, before winking out.

[markantonys]

pairing: rand/mat rating: T length: 2.3k summary: That bloody dagger. Whatever Moiraine had done hadn’t been enough to break its hold on him altogether. It was back in Tar Valon, but he could still feel it, icy fingers around his throat, around his mind, around his heart. The pressure was light with the dagger so far away, but still very present, and the longer Mat lay here alone in the dark, the tighter those fingers started squeezing.

The bed was so big. Too big. Too big and empty and cold. Mat needed someone here next to him, filling the bed up and warming his bones and prying those fingers off of him.

Not just someone.

[spynorth]

Hands find their way into coat pockets, one brow quirking ever upwards as Lucas steps nearer to his charge. The words, when they come, are nothing more than a low rumble that crawls from behind a falsely bright smile... all but silent and meant for Elayne's ears alone. "If you're planning your easiest escape..." Blue eyes glint in the sharp white light of the room and he offers a grin, gaze flickering from the woman before him to cast about the crowd. " ... I'd say the first step would be to stop looking like you'll kiss the hand of the first one in this lot to offer it."

@agoldenlily shitty s.c

[wellfell]

 ❛ is this some kind of interrogation ? didn't anyone tell you aes sedai are old and impatient and hate listening to men ( @thenightmareofyourdrems ) ? ❜

    * one liner call. accepting

[frnknstin]

I'm confused — you say you don't do fantasy verses for Victor but you list GOT as a verse? /Gen /nm

// i had to look back on the list for this- GOT is on the lil list of verses at the end that i do not engage in, however if anything this confusion is good to show that i could have made the two lists somehow a bit clearer, i fixed that up to make the two lists seperate jwjsjwj

[stormlit]

bg3 elayne is princess and heir of idk faerun geography who has been sent to baldur's gate to train with a powerful and revered group of women who can use magic -- almost all sorcerers, though not exclusively -- who live at the white tower of baldur's gate. they seem reluctant to send forces out into the shadow-cursed lands, even knowing the harpers are holding out, but elayne (along with her friend egwene, who'd just made it to the tower after escaping what happened to her homeland) can't stand to sit idly by and she breaks the rules and ventures off to try and help people who'd been left behind. tav probably encounters her and egwene fully exhausted using their magic to protect a few people from the darkness, and gets them all to the last light inn, where egwene reunites with nynaeve and elayne gets to feel like a spare wheel. i don't think tav asks her to be a companion but she follows them anyway bc it's the right thing to do and nynaeve/egwene are still in their camp, so they're kind of stuck with her. she's got very powerful inherent magic, she's extremely useful.

class-wise, she's mostly a sorcerer. i lean towards her being a lunar sorcerer, but she's also multiclassed into artificer; she loves to tinker and create useful things and magic items. if she gets to a high enough level in it she'd be the artillerist subclass.