#a song in the stillness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lasatfat · 5 months ago

Note

hello and welcome to DADWC!! I am making heart eyes at your city elf mage, so how about Eireann Surana + A letter with a broken seal; the wax is stamped with a familiar symbol

happy writing!

-inquisimer

dragon age artefacts | @dadrunkwriting

Fun fact: this is the first DADWC prompt I ever got! It kind of ballooned a little bit. I hope you enjoy it.

Don't Look Back Into the Sun

In the newer quarter of Redcliffe, there’s a statue to commemorate the end of the Fifth Blight; a great griffon crouched upon a slab of black stone, held aloft by the twisted forms of scores of darkspawn half-crushed underneath. A bronze plaque is set into the stone, bearing the inscription, ‘the Hero of Ferelden.’

It’s flattering, Eireann supposes. It’s very…grim. More importantly, however, it’s a good landmark to schedule a meeting. She has new orders from the First Warden; there’s a scroll of paper in her hand, sealed with the image of a griffon she had split apart when she opened it.

She’d come back east because of the rumours of another ancient darkspawn, and the promise of new answers. Now, Corypheus is dead, and she learned nothing from him. A disappointment, but a journey she is endlessly glad she made. She’d reunited with Cullen, she’d met Kali, she’d seen Morrigan and Kieran again unexpectedly. She even has some new leads: Merrill Sabrae really had taken the Blight from a mirror, and Dorian’s medicines had extended the life of his friend Felix by years. New promises, new possibilities…and new potential for that same crushing disappointment. She’s so tired of it all, but she doesn’t have the luxury of stopping. Not if she wants to live past fifty.

“Warden Surana?”

Eireann turns. A certain bird is coming home to roost.

She had recruited Thom Rainier and kept him from a hangman’s noose: partly because the real Warden Blackwall thought him worthy – and he is, the perfect example of what a Grey Warden should be – but mostly for the sake of his family. His lover, Sigyn, and her daughter, Camile, are with him now. Looking at them now, it’s amazing to see how they’ve all changed. Thom’s head and face were shaved bare by his jailors, but he’s grown back a thick covering of salt-and-pepper hair. The way he carries himself is lighter, as if the mask of Warden Blackwall was a physical weight, now lifted. Sigyn is calmer, braver, more at peace. She bears the scars of her past with more confidence. Little Camile has changed the most, naturally. She was five when Eireann met her: painfully shy, at first, but curious in the way all young children are, and highly insightful. She too has grown in confidence, but she has grown physically, as well. She just turned seven last week.

She can’t truly understand what may lie ahead for the man she considers a father.

“Hello,” Eireann greets them, cordially. She bends slightly at the waist to address the child. “How are you, Camile?”

Not long ago, she would have hidden behind her mother’s leg instead of answering. Today, she smiles, politely, and says, “I’m okay. Thank you.”

“You asked to meet here,” Thom says.

She smiles. “I did. Thank you for coming.” None of them have good memories of this place.

“May I ask why?” he responds. The look on his face tells her that he already knows.

“I have new orders from the First Warden,” she replies, anyway. The scroll is supposed to be for her eyes only, but she hands it to him. “They want Alistair and I to escort you to Vigil’s Keep, for the Joining ritual.”

It’s strange. In the eleven years she has been a Warden, she has done surprisingly little recruiting. The people she’d taken from prisons were either shocked or relieved; to those already sick with the Blight, she may as well have been Andraste herself. This stoic, quiet despair is new.

“It’s alright,” Sigyn says, as much to herself as to the others. “We knew we’d have to go, at some point. We can collect our things…”

“This…this says you won’t be housed at the keep.” Thom manages to maintain composure as he says it, though Eireann doesn’t know quite how.

Sigyn lifts her head to glare. She is often quick to anger, though slow to act on it, if only because the threat of her rage is often enough to diffuse a situation. Somehow, even at her most nervous, she carried an exigent air of power.

“You said we’d be able to stay together,” she says.

“I thought you would be,” Eireann admits. “We were.”

That had been a bitter realisation. Farah had been allowed to stay with her parents. Their family was an exception, and now, she has to ask herself why. The innocent answer is that Farah had nowhere else to go, but she has a sneaking suspicion that, as the child of two Wardens, she was something for them to investigate.

She shakes herself. She didn’t come here today to stew over how the Wardens treat her. She came here to be a better kind of Warden.

“Walk with me.”

Eireann leads the three up the hill, towards the village gate. Autumn is fast approaching, heralded by the browning leaves and the slight chill that comes on the breeze. The late afternoon sunlight bathes the houses below in gold, and glimmers off the waters of Lake Calenhad, bright enough to leave bruise-coloured stains on her vision. If she hadn’t lived through the Fifth Blight, she would believe it had never touched the Hinterlands. There are places in the Anderfels where the dead still don’t rot, and yet here, the grass grows and the flowers bloom and the trees sprout fresh leaves every spring. They really had saved so much of this place.

By the time they reach the gate, the full weight of what is about to happen has fallen on Camile’s tiny shoulders. She clings to her mother’s leg, seeking reassurance that neither of her parents can honestly provide. Eireann could, and will, but not here. She needed witnesses, and she needs to be out of their earshot for the next part of the plan to work. If she’s ever asked, she can say she at least tried to do this properly. About fifty feet on, the path splits off towards Witchwood, and it’s at this junction that she stops to face her entourage.

“What are you doing?” Sigyn asks, incensed.

“Well, the way I see it, Thom can do one of two things,” she replies, casually. She meets his bewildered eyes. “You can come with me to Vigil’s Keep, do the Joining, and maybe get seconded to Skyhold, if I can pull the right strings. And that’s not a small ‘if.’”

“Or?”

“Or, you can hit me.”

He blinks. “What?”

“You can hit me, and then escape,” she repeats. “For goodness’ sake, make it look good.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Thom blurts. His entire face has turned the colour of raw rhubarb. “You’re the Hero of Ferelden. I can’t hit you!”

“I can,” says Sigyn, and her fist collides with Eireann’s mouth.

Her lip splits open on her teeth. The pain is sharp and stinging, and it blinds her for a moment. She doesn’t even realise she’s fallen until the other side of her face strikes the cobblestone, cheekbone first. “Fuck!” she yells, more out of surprise than anything else.

Camile screams, she thinks, and Thom definitely swears. “Sigyn! What did you do?”

Eireann wants to tell him not to worry – it was part of the plan, after all, she was just expecting more warning – but her mouth is full of blood and her lip is starting to swell. She waves her arm frantically. Go, idiot!

“Come on! The guards are coming!” Eireann manages to look up in time to see Sigyn grab Camile’s hand and run off towards Witchwood. Thom hesitates for a moment longer, torn between following his family and tending to Eireann’s face, which is no doubt turning some rather fetching shades of black and purple. She points, and he finally makes a run for it. He catches up to his girls, and scoops Camile up in his arms so she won’t lag behind.

“Miss!” The guards have reached her, it seems. One of them follows the escapees, and the other, a young man with a faceful of acne, is examining her busted lip. Maker, they’re letting baby children guard their towns now. “Are you alright?” he asks.

Eireann manages to half-smile without it hurting too much. “Very good, all things considered.”

“But your face…?”

“Even the face.”

So, Thom Rainier goes on the run again. The Fereldan Wardens search for him, of course, though if Warden-Commander Eireann Surana doesn’t want them to find him, it’s unlikely that they will. At least, not officially. And if Eireann receives the occasional letter, or a series of gradually improving drawings, or dried flowers from the Hinterlands…well, that’s one secret she is more than happy to keep.

#asks #answered #inquisimer #a song in the stillness #video games #dragon age #dai #Eddie writes #DADWC #Warden Surana #Blackwall #Warden Blackwall #OC: Eireann Surana #OC: Sigyn #OC: Camile

3 notes · View notes

corkinavoid · 23 days ago

Text

DPxDC Alt Rock to the Rescue

[Inspired by this art]

"...Alright, I might have an idea," John Constantine, who was seemingly busy texting someone for the past ten - or twenty, no one really counted - minutes, puts his phone away and snaps his head up.

The room falls silent. Superman blinks in surprise, Diana frowns slightly, and Batman's mouth is pressed into a thin, stubborn line. Flash recovers first.

"You have an idea?" He huffs a short, disbelieving laugh, "No offense, but I'm not sure a magic trick can help us against, you know, an alien fleet." He gestures to one of the screens on the wall, where said fleet is approaching Earth on live.

The rest of the Leaguers present don't exactly agree with him, at least not verbally, but the mood in the room shifts from tense, anxious alarm to an almost palpable annoyance. To be honest, no one was even sure why or how John Constantine of all people ended up in the meeting. It's not like JLD could actually help with an ongoing, massive invasion that was about to happen in less than three- Correction, less than two and a half hours. Besides, it's John Constantine. The man that never shows up unless outright bullied into submission.

The magician winces briefly and starts rummaging through his pockets under the weight of everyone's attention.

"I said I might," he amends gruffly, getting a cigarette out of one of his pockets and sticking it in his mouth but not lighting it. Seems like it wasn't what he was looking for, though, because after that, the man keeps going through the various places on his coat, patting himself down. "I know someone who can deal with it. Granted, I already owe him a great deal, but he won't say no," he pauses and grimaces, "At least I hope he won't."

"I do not think it would be wise to call upon gods in our situation," Diana tries carefully, but John pays her little mind.

"Or demons," Green Arrow adds, crossing his arms on his chest, "I'm not selling my soul to get rid of some rocket ships or whatever they are."

Now, that makes the magician bark a laugh. Or, maybe it's the piece of lime green paper - a sticky note, actually - that he finally finds in the depths of his pockets.

"Oh, your soul's gonna stay where it is."

"Constantine-" Batman starts, but John cuts him off instantly.

"Mine will stay wherever it is as well," he reassures the man, "It's not that kind of entity." And with that, he promptly sets the green note on fire - green fire - and uses it as a lighter for his cigarette.

The next moment after the note is reduced to ash, there's a shift in the air in front of him, and, before any of the heroes have a split second to react, there are two people floating in the middle of the room, backs pressed to each other.

Two teenagers, to be exact. A girl and a boy, both of them so pale that their skin looks gray, and both dressed in grunge, like they just came from a rock concert. Yet, that's where the 'normal' parts of their looks end - the boy's hair is so white it looks blinding, and moves in the air slowly, undeterred by gravity, and the girl's hair is neon blue, her ponytail flickering up like a flaming torch.

The boy nearly topples over as the girl leans her back on him harder and kicks her feet up slightly. The movement is awkward, like both of them were taken by surprise by the sudden relocation, and maybe the guess about the rock concert was not so far from reality; there are drumsticks in the boy's hands, and the girl is holding an electric guitar in her hands.

"The fuck?.." The boy asks no one in particular, as the girl makes an annoyed groan and straightens up, still floating in the air. Her guitar makes an aborted sound. Meanwhile, the boy's eyes land on Constantine, and his whole face scrunches in disgust, "John, for the love of Ancients, I was in the middle of something."

The girl takes a look around while her friend is busy expressing his annoyance and elbows him in the side, "Oi, look, it's the whole Comic Con in the flesh here."

Green Arrow sputters. Flash makes a wordless but very offended sound. The floating boy looks around, taking stock of faces in the room, and the disgust on his face morphs into exasperation.

He turns back to Constantine, "Really? I thought I told you I want no part in your furry parade."

"Alien invasion," the magician decidedly doesn't address any of that, instead pointing his finger to the screen behind him. "Thought you ought to know," he adds, a bit of sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

"Ooh, is it my turn to be your world saving buddy, Phantom?" The girl perks up, turning around and draping herself over the boy's shoulders with a giddy laugh. Her guitar shifts to hang in the air on her side all by itself.

The boy - Phantom - rolls his eyes. Bright green, glowing eyes that definitely don't belong to a human being.

"If I had a nickel every time I had to save the world, I'd probably be able to buy myself my own guitar," he grumbles and looks back to Constantine. "Do I, like, have to? Right now? You know, I don't get paid for this bullshit, and the studio we rented for rehearsal has an hourly rate, so if we can postpone this for about an hour and a half, that'd be real nice."

"The fleet is only two hours away from Earth," Batman supplies suddenly, and, when both floating kids turn to look at him, adds, "I can pay for your next rehearsal. Or a few of them." Evidently, Phantom's comment about nickels struck a nerve. Or, maybe, the man just likes throwing money at any teenager he encounters. Who knows.

The boy blinks, taken aback by the proposition. But the girl grins, sharp and wicked, and shoves her drummer - if the drumsticks are to tell - in the side again.

"Hey, free studio. Better than the last time."

That snaps Phantom out of his stupor, and he groans, "Don't remind me." With a weary sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in the air, almost like reclining on it. "Okay, fine, sure. Do you want them, like, away from Earth- um, this is Earth, right?" He turns to Superman, surprisingly, looking for confirmation, and the man nods, thrown off guard. The boy nods back and continues, "Or you want them blasted into oblivion, or what?"

"Whatever suits your mood, kid," John waves his hand at the screen as if making a welcoming gesture, "But all the aliens gotta go."

Unexpectedly, that makes the girl's grin even wider, and she reaches for her guitar, floating around Phantom and looking him in the face. The look she gives him speaks of mischief, and the boy seems to understand what she's implying before she as much as opens her mouth.

"Ember, no," he pounts a drumstick at her.

"Ember, yes," she wiggles her eyebrows, "Come on, your wail is boring as fuck as it is, why not spice it up?"

"I'm not wailing," Phantom scrunches his nose, "My throat will hurt for weeks."

Ember runs her fingers over the strings of her guitar, and it makes a comparatively quiet, vibrating sound. A few cords shoot out of the bottom of her instrument, like ones used to plug an electric guitar to an amp. She raises her eyebrows, still looking at Phantom, a silent conversation between them.

Then, the boy huffs and rolls his eyes, twirling a drumstick in his fingers.

"Fine."

The cords fly at him like snakes, aiming at his neck. None of the Leaguers watching the encounter get to say even a word as the metal pins insert themselves into the boy's neck, acting like some twisted kind of collar. Phantom doesn't even flinch.

Ember's guitar, on the other hand, reacts to the connection quite violently: it makes a high-pitched sound all on its own and then changes color from black and blue to white and green, with lightning bolts instead of flames for design. The girl's ponytail flares up higher as she softly murmurs in delight.

Then, she turns to the people around them and smirks, "Which way is the evil alien fleet?"

Flash wordlessly points his finger to the right and up. The girl nods in satisfaction, turning in the air so her guitar is facing that way.

"You might want to cover your ears," Phantom advises, a sly smile on his face and a glimmer of anticipation to his eyes. John Constantine follows that direction immediately, and, taking his move as the best course of action, the other heroes follow as well. Except Batman, who only narrows his eyes and looks at both teens in the air apprehensively. Phantom shrugs, "Or don't, I don't hold any responsibility for your shattered eardrums."

"Pick up where we left off, then," Ember tells him, and the boy blinks:

"Wait, I thought you'd just-"

[For some wholesome experience, put your headphones in and listen to 'KULT' by Jisaiah, grandson, and Steve Aoki]

But the girl has already started a tune, nodding her head to the rhythm of it and slowly picking up the pace. Phantom huffs, but doesn't protest any further, floating up as much as the cords allow him and spinning a drumstick in his hand.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

That the world's a fucking circus

That my life feels fucking worthless," he spits the words out with a sneer, slowly rotating in the air until he is hanging upside down. His eyes are closed, and his voice becomes more and more staticky with every new sound. The volume of Ember's guitar gets up, higher and higher, until the walls and the floor of the room around them start to vibrate.

Then, Ember's voice joins Phantom's, and the boy brings his drumsticks down on thin air, mimicking the moves. Only, even with the actual drums not there, the air around him ripples like they are, and they all can hear the beat.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

When it all comes crashing down

We'll see who's laughing," both kids pause, just for a beat, and Ember uses that split second to spin the volume knob to the max before strumming her guitar in one wide, sharp move.

"NOW!"

The sound wave is not only palpable, it's visible. A wave of toxic green ripples through the air, knocking everyone present - sans the two kids in the air - to the ground, and goes beyond. The screens on the walls flicker and turn off, sending sparks in the air, and the comms give off loud, screeching noises, and-

The following silence feels almost deafening.

Batman, unsurprisingly, is the first one to stand back on his feet and see a few of the screens come back online.

Just in time to see that same green wave of... sound? energy? power?.. decimate the entire fleet like a wet cloth over a chalkboard. One moment, the spaceships were there, and the next they are gone, wiped out of existence.

Ember laughs, leaning back and almost doing a backflip in the air.

"That was nice, dipshit!" She shoves Phantom in the shoulder, and the boy snorts, plucking the cords out of his skin and grinning.

"Yeah," he agrees with a smile, not even looking at the screens around, "Maybe we should try rehearsing in space next time. Sing to the stars and all that crap."

"Sing to the stars?" Ember raises her eyebrows mockingly as the rest of the heroes scramble to their feet, bemoaning their ringing ears. "Na-ah," she clicks her tongue and turns to Batman, "You still up for paying for our studio?"

The man just grunts in a semblance of affirmation.

"Sweet," the girl grins and offers Phantom a hand for a high five, which he returns instantly. "Cheers to the world being saved once again!"

The boy just rolls his eyes and turns to Constantine, "Next time, be a dear and text me before summoning, or I'm going to sell your soul to Morpheus, and who knows what he'll do with you."

John Constantine grimaces. "I did," he offers grudgingly.

But both unearthly teenagers are already gone without a trace.

[Edit: I want everyone to know there's ART now!!!]

2K notes · View notes