#alienages. and so she was like this is a future for elves etc. and she did everything she could to make the world better

[alistair-stan]

Clearly my stamina for video games has waned DRAMATICALLY bc ive barely managed to clock 2 hours of inquisition across 2 days.

And its not like im fatigued by the gameplay or anything yet like i just got the fucking title screen lol. Like this is not a hinterlands bear moment or a fallow mire situation yet

[catalystcrisis]

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Character(s), Cullen Rutherford/Spirit Healer, City Elf | Elves/Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford/Mage(s) Characters: Cullen Rutherford, Original Female Character(s), Eve Surana, Female Trevelyan, Dorian Pavus Additional Tags: Healer, Spirit Healer, Slow Burn, Rivalmance, blood and guts and revivals oh my, Medicine, Medieval Medicine, Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, like the slowest of burns probably Summary:

"Some call the Circle a prison - that can only breed resentment. Perhaps opportunities to work outside the Circle? A mixed military service, or healers' clinics with templar support." - Cullen

This fic is his idea brought to life. Skyhold is crammed with refugees, pilgrims, an army, and a sunny Inquisitor who flings herself at Venatori and dragons with her reckless companions at her side. There is no way the Inquisition can mend itself and defeat Corypheus without a resident spirit healer.

Cullen just wishes that she were grandmotherly and doting. Not ridiculously young, mouthy, and unrepentant whenever he catches her stealing military scarves to use as bandages. And she'd better stop saying "Maker's gilded spank paddle!" or he'll shut her mouth for her.

(A big thank-you to my Discord DA fanfiction writing groups! You're all amazing and I'm so thankful for your help!)

Notes:

Hello readers! Thanks for popping in. I know you want to get to the fic, so here is a quick rundown:

This fic is mainly told from a spirit healer's perspective, which means that there will be descriptions of injuries, diseases, and bodily fluids throughout the fic. It will include 'medieval medicine' which is prevalent in Thedas (ie. humorism, leeches, amputations, bloodletting, trepanning, etc.) but it will also incorporate some modern aspects of medicine, so while it may get a little jumbled, I hope it will make sense eventually. This fic isn't meant to be the most accurate history of medicine (I mean, it's Dragon Age), so please bear with my creative license. Feel free to write a comment or DM me if something is unclear!

This is a slow-burn rivalmance. Feed the flames with comments! Please?

Chapter 1: The Alienage and the Ex-Templar District

(You can read chapter 1 if you click below!)

"See here, Eve? How you can feel a rounded firmness - no, use the pads of your fingers, not the tips - there, feel it now?"

Eve held her breath against the sweet smell of rot, knowing that if Nessa spotted a shudder that she would get an earful later. Gently, she edged around the work table and obediently used her fingers to locate the lump under the patient's grimy, whiskered jaw. Just to the side of a muscle was a pea-sized spongey node.

The man hissed in pain and jerked away, cupping the side of his face so just the tip of a pointed ear stuck up above his hand. "I'm so sorry," Eve sputtered, hiding her flushing face behind her long black hair and twisting her hands behind her.

"S'alright da'len," the man muttered, trying to smile but grimacing around his swollen jaw instead. "I just need to grit and bear it."

"Hmm, well, gritting will only make the tooth rot feel worse," Nessa mused. She deftly coaxed the man's mouth open and lifted a candle to illuminate the inside of his mouth. "Eve, how can we tell that it's tooth rot and not an ear infection?"

"Umm," Eve said, trying to ignore the sounds of a spirited foot race outside. It sounded like her friends from the thieves' guild were out there racing the all the alienage children. "His tonsils and ear drums aren't swollen or red, no change in his hearing, and no pus found, thank the Maker."

"And what are the cardinal signs of a localized infection, Eve?"

Eve, who was edging to the clinic door, stopped in her tracks. "I can't remember," she muttered to the dirt floor, tamping down on the guilty twinge at the lie. She curled her bare toes, hoping Nessa would just dismiss her in exasperation.

"Tsk. I taught you better than this and Maker knows I've dragged you to see more than enough infections since you showed up at my door," Nessa said imperiously. There was an undercurrent of steel beneath the wry amusement in her crisp tone.

Even surrounded by mismatched furniture and tools cobbled together from odds and ends, Nessa was regal in the daylight streaming in from a nearby window. She sat on her patched clinic stool like a shem noblewoman - no, as if she sat on the Ferelden throne, a sharp light glinting from brown eyes stamped with crow’s feet. The man dutifully held still in her hand as she surveyed her apprentice with an expectant look.

Eve straightened and crossed her arms. "And they have all been disgusting," she declared. A prickle of pride glowed in her chest - her voice hadn't wavered that time.

The man winced and Nessa pursed her lips in a disapproval. "While that was true for some - most - of them, that is not a cardinal sign and your rudeness will cost you latrine duty for the week," Nessa said coolly, boring her eyes into Eve'. "What did I tell you about treating patients, yourpeople , with respect?"

"Oh, it's alright, she's just a child-"

"A child old enough to know better," Nessa said firmly over the man's protests, fixing Eve with a look that made her feel like a flea-infested nug.

"It'd be easier if infections and the pus weren't so gross!" Eve protested, knowing that she should shut her mouth like Nessa was always after her for, but she was right - infections were horrifying, and the smell ... she was just telling the truth.

"Well, don't get any high hopes for the future," Nessa said, "you are the child of an alienage surgeon. Your future won't be full of gold and candy. More of the pus and guts variety, I suspect."

Eve curled her little hands into fists. She was frustrated . She'd just learned that word that week and that was what she was. Frustrated of being cooped up in the same shabby clinic day after day with its never-ending line of sweating, coughing, puking patients that looped around the Vhenadal all the way to the outskirt fence penning the alienage in the city. Frustrated of standing on aching feet, as hour after hour she would hand over a tool Nessa needed to fix the patients or look at a particularly stomach-turning piece of anatomy that Nessa would present for inspection. Frustrated of having to trot at Nessa's heels as they paid house calls to particularly sick elves who would inevitably be stewing in their waste by the time they got there while the other alienage kids ran and played past them, or ran messages for extra coin from the thieves' guild. Not that she was mistreated by Nessa, not like some of the others or those who served in shem houses, but it was hard to live with the formidable woman.

Heat boiled into her cheeks and she glared as sharply as the costly scalpels Nessa used in her surgeries. Then I wish I'd been left on someone else's doorstep! Eve thought fiercely, wishing she could say it all out loud and hating how calm and expectant Nessa looked, as if she knew and it didn't matter .

A beat of silence stretched, then two. Only the somewhat muffled sounds of a crowded alienage pressed in through the thin walls as Eve glared then dropped her gaze. "Swellingheatrednesspainlimitedmovement," Eve spat out quickly. She sent a small pair of tongs skittering across the table to Nessa then bolted out the door.

Then, because she had what Nessa called ‘an unrepentant need for noseyness’, she hid around the corner. A low whistle drifted through the swinging door. "Thought for sure that she'd do something stupid and curse you til she was blue in the face," the man’s voice said. "What a fiery little troublemaker. And what spooky eyes. Must've rained and stormed the night she was born."

A short sigh followed. "Well, she was left at my door nine years ago, so I couldn't tell you," she heard Nessa say dryly, "but let it never be said that I raised a dumb bunny. Now, close your eyes, open your mouth, lay back and think of Andraste."

Evening settled down into the alienage, the dust quieting as families retreated from the deep blue shadows into the warmth of their shabby but cheerful kitchens. Eve loitered under a ratty awning, tugging the hem of her threadbare shirt higher to cover the colorful bruise she'd earned in her latest roughhousing match from her messenger friends. If only Nessa would let her out more; she'd be able to keep up with them and learn how to do more than just slip out of an attacker's grasp. She could learn to return the blows, learn how to wield a dagger with her eyes closed, slip by Nessa's watchful gaze with the stealth of a black cat. Then maybe she'd be able to join the thieves' guild one day and become one of its infamous Fangs.

She jumped when the door to the clinic opened and shielded her eyes as a bright light pierced the gloom. "Is that my loving and respectful aid?" a familiar voice drawled. "Will the Maker never cease his miracles?"

"I'm sorry," Eve blurted to the dirt without preamble. Even as she’d raced and scuffled with the other alienage kids, she’d felt guilt for leaving Nessa and the patient behind in the clinic. Nessa was the best surgeon of the alienage and deftly cared for patients too complex for apprentices, but what if she needed Eve for something? What if a kid came in with tooth rot and needed Eve’ smaller hands? She hadn’t been able to shake the guilt, even when her friends were teaching her how to dodge a flying kick. "I shouldn't've been rude to the carpenter. I didn't mean to make him feel bad. I know it's worse from a surgeon."

A thoughtful pause. "Why?"

A crimson flush flooding from the collar to the tips of his pointed ears of the bedbound patient flashed through her mind's eye, red in his chagrin and mortification. It'd been the first time Eve had felt such strong waves of nausea and pity at the same time, warring with each other until she could school her face into the semblance of calmness that Nessa wore all the time when she pretended to not notice these things. "Because," she said slowly, looking up, "we're there when people feel their worst. And they need us to help. It'd be worse to ask honestly for help when you feel weaker than nug piss and the surgeon told you to nob off because you stink."

Nessa's dark eyebrows had steadily climbed her forehead, the corners of her lips twitching. "That's- Maker's furry nut- I mean, for Maker's sake, where did you learn-" Nessa heaved in a breath then seemed to count silently to ten like she was after Eve to do. "Next time the guild kids start that talk, I want you to stuff your fingers in your ears or I will clean your mouth out with soap," Nessa threatened firmly.

Eve nodded, biting her lower lip to keep from grinning. She was about to offer to make dinner when Nessa hoisted her traveling satchel higher on her shoulder and instead blurted, "Where are you going?"

"Hmm? You know where I'm going," Nessa said absently, now adjusting her cloak and checking the oil supply in her lamp. "I go there every other week, for Maker's sake."

Eve didn't want to say anything that broke the bridge they'd just repaired, but a cold tendril of fear snaked around her insides. "You shouldn't," Eve said, "not alone. I can go with you-"

"Da'len, you are shaking in your boots - well, if you ever actually wore boots," Nessa said dryly, swinging her lamp to light the cramped alley. "Eat the stew and make sure the fire is put out by the time I am back."

"Nessi, no, I'm fine - I can do it!" Eve insisted, feeling like a baby, using her nickname for Nessa while clutching her fists against her sides and trying to stop the quivering. She knew that she was glistening with sweat in the amber lamplight and didn't care because Nessa could not go alone. "You can't go - not with those, those things . They're crazy!"

Nessa's face vanished in shadow as the lamplight swung in the breeze, obscuring her expression. But her voice sounded thoughtful when she spoke again. " That ," she murmured, "is precisely why I need to go. They may be crazy, but they gave their lives to the Chantry and that blasted dwarf dust they keep begging for. The People are not the only ones who suffer, and we have not forgotten - just as we will not forget others who suffer."

"But, but they're shems," Eve protested, rooting around her frazzled mind for a good enough reason to keep Nessa home and safe, away from the walled-off district full of emaciated wandering humans out of their mind with madness. She sometimes glimpsed their shivering, rail-thin figures hunched beyond the fence separating the grungiest streets of Denerim from the alienage, bloodshot eyes roving; their enraged shrieks and wails for lyrium scared her more than anything. "The Chantry have sisters, don't they? Can't they help? Or pay healers to?"

Tapping came from under Nessa's oiled leather work cloak, a sign of impatience. "You know as well as I that the sisters only know basic remedies," Nessa said tartly, then muttered under her breath, "wouldn't know the difference between an umbilical hernia and a pregnancy without checking the genitals, but I'm not the Revered Mother, thank the Maker." She continued in a somewhat more dignified voice, "And you know as well as I that nothing can be done for lyrium withdrawals, not even with the magic of a healer. And who has the gold to waste for a lost cause? No, better to be eased a little with some headache draughts and focusing solutions than die alone in complete agony."

She wasn't going to stop trying until Nessa stopped using that adult voice and listened to her. "But they don't care about us so why-"

"Who came and put down the abomination in the Banal'ras district last month?" Nessa interrupted.

Eve bit her lip. "Templars," she muttered, hanging her head.

"That's right. We were able to help the injured People thanks to those 'shem' templars whether or not they wanted to kiss every single elf in the alienage. Now, get back inside and not another word out of your smart mouth or I will put you to work with Cyrion."

Help Cyrion fuss over every single human, elf and dwarf that entered his house and listen to him haggle with them over things like 'trade agreements' and 'taxes'? Eve squirmed on the spot, watched Nessa take a few brisk steps down the alley, then ran to catch up before her courage ran out. "I'm coming with you," she declared, hopefully with as much conviction as her hands were shaking, "you can't talk me out of it even if I have to work for Cyrion for days."

"Is that so?" Nessa mused, lamp swinging away to reveal dark glittering eyes and a small furrow between her brows. "Even if the 'crazy' ex-templars start raving?"

"Yes," Eve said stoutly, hiding her hands behind her and summoning every ounce of determination in her nine-year-old body.

She waited on a knife's edge, trembling between wanting to go with Nessa and wanting to run inside the steamy warmth of their home until Nessa finally gave a curt nod. "Get your boots and your bag," she ordered in a tone that brooked no arguments. As Eve scurried inside to obey, she heard Nessa mutter, "and I hope your sticky-fingered friends in the guild teach you how to lie better."

Eve clopped along behind Nessa’s trailing cloak, trying not to trip on the patched leather boots that she was still growing into. The further they walked from their clinic by the vhenadal, the more cramped the dirt roads became with piles of filth and the buildings teetered higher and higher to accommodate the poorest of the alienage. Jagged bricks and hungry eyes gleamed in Nessa’s lamplight as they neared the gap-toothed fence on the outskirts of the alienage. Two tall silhouettes loitered by the posts, their armor glinting in the lamplight set behind them.

“Hello there,” Nessa called in a carefully neutral tone. Eve was suddenly struck with the need to drag Nessa home by the cloak as a distant moan carried through the blackness beyond the light. Was it too late to turn back?

“I am Nessa Surana, and this is my daughter,” Nessa continued, “we are here to help the ex-templars.”

The human closest to them peered down at them from under his helm with eyes rounder than any elf’s. “Help? Riiight… You know that the crazies don’t have anything worth stealing even for you rabbit-ears, eh?” he asked suspiciously. “They’ll have lost it or traded it for dust by now, and they’re howling at the moon tonight. Best to stick to your side of the fence-”

“Trenton, that’s the elf surgeon from two weeks ago.” Another armored human walked up and peered down at them, the lamplight throwing his acne scars in sharp relief. “You here to try and get them to shut up again? We won’t say no to that.”

“They aren’t supposed to,” a new voice interjected from behind Eve. She almost jumped into Nessa as a redheaded elf dressed in battered leathers suddenly stepped out of the shadows with a scowl. “They’re supposed to be home letting the shems take care of themselves.”

“As are you , Shianni,” Nessa said, looking unperturbed. “You’re going to worry Cyrion being out so late and I don’t need him on my doorstep first thing in the morning.”

“And who’s this?” the guard with the scars asked with his hand on his sword hilt.

“No one you need to know, shem,” Shianni sneered with a hand on her hip. At thirteen, she was four years older than Eve and starting to blossom into womanhood. The new swell of her hip emphasized the wickedly curved dagger hanging from her belt. Despite herself, Eve felt a stab of admiration at her courage against the large, towering humans.

“This is my niece,” Nessa said as she swept the youth under an arm. Eve could see Nessa’s fingertips pressing into Shianni’s shoulder tightly. “She is a demure flower who likes to keep her opinions to herself and is always polite to strangers,” Nessa continued, “because otherwise, her aunt will tell the nice guards about that time she ran through the alienage stark naked-”

“I don’t care if you do,” Shianni sputtered, flushing as red as her hair and trying to squirm out of Nessa’s grip. “And anyway, I’m only here because you shouldn’t be out alone and uncle Cyrion agrees with me-”

“Look,” the other guard interrupted, “I don’t care who you lot are or who your aunt or uncle or fourth-removed humpback is. What do you want with the crazies?”

“We want to help heal them,” Eve said when Nessa and Shianni started to argue again.

The two guards instantly took a step back and raised their shields. “What, like magically?” the scarred guard asked.

“No, thank the Maker,” Nessa answered swiftly. “None of us are apostates. We are just surgeons, seeking to help ease the old templars.”

“Well, she’s the surgeon,” Shianni said, pointing at Nessa’s bulging work bag full of draughts and surgical tools, “best one in the alienage and the brat’s her apprentice. I’m their messenger.”

The taller guard glanced at her dagger and the hard look in her eyes. “Messenger. Right. And I’m King Cailan,” he said.

“Just let them through,” the scarred guard said, elbowing his peer. “The Chantry doesn’t look out for them enough after they leave,” he muttered to the elves, “five gold bits and a thank-you doesn’t pay the bills for long or buy enough lyrium for the rest of their blighted lives. It’d be more than what the Chantry does if you could make them feel better with your potions and whatnot.”

The other guard snorted. “Softie.”

“Thank you,” Nessa said gracefully as they passed, leaving the guards to bicker with each other.

Past the fence, the dirt road occasionally winked with shards of broken glass. The muddy puddle Eve stepped in crunched oddly, and she was suddenly grateful to Nessa for insisting on her wearing boots. She didn’t fancy walking around on bleeding feet, forcing glass shards deeper and deeper into her flesh with every step. Then she’d get an infection - probably the nasty kind that turned the skin green, then black and foul until the toes shriveled and fell off… she shuddered and tried to peer beyond the small circle of light the lamp threw off instead.

Skeletal remains of burnt buildings loomed out of the darkness as they passed, broken walls yawning with shadows. Cloaks and jackets propped up on sticks lined the dirt roads as well, sometimes with feet or a hand poking out from underneath. Eve stifled a yelp when the makeshift tent they were passing emitted a high-pitched scream and immediately glued herself to Nessa’s side.

Shianni scoffed, her hand on her dagger as they passed another tent with a pair of bare feet covered in sores sticking out. “You should tuck tail and run home, bunny,” she said, “don’t know why you’re even here, not being a full surgeon or a healer to help at all…”

“Eve’s been really helpful around the clinic,” Nessa said with a warm hand on Eve’s shoulder, “and she’s mostly been good with her studies. Not so much with infections, however.”

Eve flushed a little even as her eyes jumped from tent to tent. “I wish I could heal magically,” she said, giving voice to a persistent thought she’d been having, “so I can fix everything and people won’t hurt anymore-”

“No,” Nessa interrupted. Eve flinched as her fingers turned into claws on her shoulder. “No, da’len. Be glad that you aren’t mage-touched,” Nessa continued in strained voice, “they can turn into abominations in a moment, then tear apart a building and its people in a blink.”

“I wouldn’t become an abomination if I were a mage,” Eve said indignantly. “Or use blood magic. I know better.”

“Well, thank the Maker that you aren’t touched with magic,” Shianni said, “or you’d be shipped off to a Circle, like Neria. Then you’ll vanish when the templars take you in the night, never to see the alienage again.”

“That’s enough,” Nessa said sharply. “Eve hasn’t shown a single sign of magic and that’s how it’ll stay. How else am I going to retire as an old lady? As if your uncle hasn’t enough grief with his only child gone. And enough talk of blood magic, we’re getting up to the right tent-”

A roar made all three of them jump and the lamp clattered into the mud. Shianni scrambled in front of Nessa and Eve with her rusty dagger thrust out as something erupted from the tent right next to them and roared, “BLOOD MAGIC?”

At first, Eve thought a scarecrow had been possessed and brought to life. What froze the scream in her throat was realizing that the black pits carved into the scarecrow’s haggard face were in fact sunken sockets with only a pinpricks to hint at burning, roving eyes in their depths. Greasy, matted grey locks hung around hollow cheeks and dirty skin hung in wrinkled drapes off the bones. What Eve realized to be a painfully emaciated old human staggered to his feet, waving a roughly sharpened tent pole in Shianni’s snarling face while clutching a fist to his breastbone.

“You looking… sacrifices?” he shouted, waving the stick and they all leapt back another pace. “ABOMINATIONS?”

“Hugh, no!” Nessa shouted, raising a beseeching hand toward him and holding Shianni back with the other. “My name is Nessa, do you remember me? I gave you the headache draught two weeks ago when you were feeling bad.”

Hugh jumped at his name, then swayed on his feet as he peered at them with a bloodshot eye. “Nessa?” he mumbled to himself, his fetid breath and quick, jerky movements making Eve mince a step back. “Feel bad… all th’time. All the time. Not abomination? No… not Nessa. Circle prayers start in an hour. Must ready… things. Headache… yesterday?”

“It was two weeks ago, Hugh,” Nessa said soothingly, trying to shake off Shianni and Eve as they tried to pull her back to the gate. “I brought more for you-”

Shianni and Eve cried out as Hugh suddenly dropped the stick and hauled Nessa to him by the arm. “You have it?” he asked fervently, the tip of an open sore on his nose almost touching hers, “you have the lyrium? I need my next dose, knight-captain, I’m burning on low and I found a little yesterday - day before yesterday? Monday? But it wore off fast and I got a wildfire in my head and I need it -”

“Hugh, listen to me,” Nessa coaxed and Eve could hear a note of desperation in it. Nessa threw a warning look at Shianni and continued softly, “Hugh, my name is Nessa. I’m here to help your headache. It’s in my bag - would you like some?”

Hugh swayed and blinked slowly at her as Eve discreetly scrambled to find the right potion in Nessa’s satchel. “Nessa…? Surgeon?”

“That’s right, Hugh,” Nessa said. “I have this headache draught for you. Best to drink it now.”

Hugh stared emptily at her, then relaxed his skeletal hands. He grabbed the bottle Eve offered without really looking at her and swigged down the red concoction as Shianni tugged Nessa back behind her.

“My thanks, Mother Christine,” Hugh said brightly, bouncing on the balls of his bare feet and trying to tuck his stick at his waist like a sword, seemingly unaware that he was wearing nothing but a long, holey tunic. “Best thing for a growing boy like me, need all the food I can get. All this trekking up and down the tower in full armor tires me out like nothing else. Well, maybe not as bad as drill. These mages better appreciate the view, eh?”

“I hope they did, Hugh,” Nessa murmured sadly. “You should get some rest.”

“Not a bad idea, Mother Nessa,” Hugh croaked, turning to peer up the line of makeshift tents. “My room… over here. I’ll see you at morning service. Good night, Mother.”

He bent to wrap a ratty blanket and the lamp threw a ridge of shadows down the knobs of his spine. As Hugh laid down on the dirt and made himself comfortable under the blanket, Shianni and Eve stared at each other, then at Nessa who was rapidly blinking wet eyes.

“We aren’t done yet. Come, he’s usually just along here,” Nessa said briskly, scooping up the lamp and heading past a few more tents towards a burned-down lean-to. Eve lingered, staring at Hugh’s shiny balding pate and at the small glass vial cradled in the hand laying by his whiskered chin before hurrying to catch up to Nessa and Shianni.

Nessa was crouched in the shadow of a crumbling wall with Shianni standing guard at her back. In the corner of the lean-to lay a shriveled husk on its side, even more painfully thin than Hugh. This man - who was probably an ex-templar - had sparse hair, neck and limbs stiffly bent inwards, and if it weren’t for the shallow rise and fall of his ribs Eve would have thought Nessa was paying her respects to a dead man. His crusted eyes didn’t even flutter when Nessa murmured soothingly to him, trying to coax him to swallow the drops of a draught that she’d poured into his mouth.

“Nessa,” Shianni hesitated, for once looking like a young teenager as she watched her aunt work, “I don’t think… will that even help? He looks like he’s going to…”

A muscle jumped in Nessa’s jaw as she abandoned the draught and instead tucked the patched cloak the man was curled under more firmly around him. Eve quietly kneeled beside her and helped. “Yes, he is on his way to the Maker,” Nessa agreed.

“Then why bother?”

“Because no one should die alone like this,” Nessa said. “The Chantry uses up their youth and dedication, then kicks them out when they can’t keep the delirium at bay. You saw Hugh - and you’ll see more, here. They all end up here eventually, without a copper to their name and begging for the demon dust even if it’s what got them to this stage in the first place.”

“Don’t the sisters come here?” Shianni persisted. “They should help-”

“But they don’t,” Nessa said, her voice laced with contempt. She laid a soothing hand on the man’s shriveled fist, the skin covered in old scars. “The withdrawal leeches at their sanity. They forget the most recent events first… how they got here, where they are, where they pawned their sword. Then they forget people - family, if they ever had one. Then their name. Then they forget how to walk, talk… how to eat or drink. Sometimes they remember certain things, but once they forget how to do bodily things… it isn’t long, after that.”

Eve’s eyes burned and she choked down a shuddering breath, patting the man’s cool skin unseeingly. She swiped at her eyes and was surprised to see Nessa watching her, a warm light in her own. “Do you see, da’len?” Nessa asked. “This is… we can’t leave others to a fate like this. Even if they don’t have pointed ears. It’s never a competition to see who has it worse… we must help, if we can.”

Watching the man gasp shallowly through chapped lips, Eve couldn’t help but agree.

[irafatum-a]

VERSE: WICKED EYES AND WICKED HEARTS

     A city elf born along the borders of Nevarra and the Free Marches, Rose grew up in a world full of abuse and neglect. She has very few positive memories when it comes to her mother and can barely remember her father, as her mother claimed he either ‘disappeared’ or ‘left because he wasn’t man enough to be responsible’, to the young woman the story always changes and oft times she suspects it was due to her overbearing mother for his leave, but that made her no less resentful to him for abandoning her in the process. Much of her young life spent learning to thieve and trick human’s and even other elves, doing what little she could to survive and keep herself safe from the clutches of the sick and perverse, as her own mother did very little to actually guide or care for her. Because of this she’s developed a nihilistic view of not only people but the world, and thus forced her to be independent and resourceful -- even cutthroat to a degree. 

     During this time she had many wild dreams of being free with the Dalish or having a nice home and husband, as any young girl does, but quickly abandoned these fanciful delusions upon the realization that the Dalish were no more welcoming than the shemlen, and a dutiful husband seemed all but a naive desire with how little her mother made and the fast-encroaching day when she was to be arranged to wed an elf from a neighboring Alienage. Instead of accepting her fate, young Rose had decided that she would adventure to Orlais and become a bard; many exciting tales had been sung from these passing minstrels about the countries beautiful cities and the thrill of The Grand Game; if she could be as good as the bards whom traveled Thedas, maybe -- just maybe -- she could climb the social ladder that elves were often barred from. All she had to do was kill enough...

     Stealing what money she could from her mother and betrothed, Rose left for Orlais on the back of a wagon and took a scornful look to her old home; this was most certainly not a place she would ever return or long to be. No, her future was in Orlais now, and all she had to do was get there alive. The journey to the beautiful city had taken months and a lot of self sacrifice, but once she’d made it through the gates Rose was elated to see that the songs did this land no justice; Orlesians were certainly pompous in not only their fashion but the designs in their buildings and mannerisms. And though she had initially been excited to be there, she quickly found that the Alienages in Orlais were far worse than the one’s in her hometown, she began to panic upon the realization that she very well may be right back where she started -- at the bottom with no hope of climbing the ladder out of the slums, even worse so that she knew no one here in this small space, nearly smothered in suffocation by the crampedness in which these elves lived. All hope seemed lost until she was offered a hand by a shemlen in a mask of gold and silver, he called himself; Marquis Francis Duret, a well-off nobleman looking to rise through the ranks of nobility through thievery, assassination and espionage. How opportunistic of him to find she -- a girl foreign born looking to rise in social standing -- to be his living weapon. Though Francis may have been a skilled Bardmaster himself, there were certain things tailored to his reputation that even he would not dip a finger in, but a beautiful elven woman could... none would be the wiser.  The Marquis often spied among the coming new travelers for susceptible targets for his tutelage, and in Rose found a promising pupil; maybe even obedient. 

     But the young elf quickly found that she was in a living nightmare; all the years spent under Francis had been one of slavery. She quickly found that the shemlen, though outwardly disgusted with the word, merely covered it in a new one; Servitude. There was no denying that she did, in fact, live a privileged life with her Marquis but it came at a price; her body and mind were not her own to do with as she pleased, and was often used for experimentation or sexual release. Quickly the young woman was looking for ways to escape her mentor, honing her skills as a bard to hopefully use them against her once benefactor turned abuser. While under his guidance Rose was subject to many tortures in hoping to make her stronger, one of many happened to be turning to the rituals of making Reavers; traveling to the Imperium to conduct the ritual -- one that nearly turned the young woman mad, though she survived. In his crafting of his pupil he had little realization that he was forging a monster that would in turn devour him. 

     During the events of Inquisition, when the Inquisitor closes the Breach and begins to form a small army in hopes of discovering the Divines murder and the Conclave’s explosion, Francis took this opportunity to send Rose off in hopes of finding information. The Marquis was certain that with the Inquisition growing in influence and power that the Orlesian nobility would turn their eyes upon them in worry, and should he have any political secrets could ascend him higher to Duke. Forcing his pupil to go would give others little suspicion of him and should Rose be caught -- damned with her, let her die. She, however, saw this as an opportunity to acquire allies against the Marquis and eagerly took to travel through the snowy mountains, being greeted as a traveling bard to sing to the weary pilgrims and warriors.

     The Inquisitor can recruit Rose as a companion and take her along on quests, can romance her or acquire her friendship and help her overthrow the Marquis so that she may ascend to Bardmaster and attend the Grand Game. Taking her with you to Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts will allow you bonus dialogue and special events due to her knowledge of Orlesian culture, language and fashion, giving you an edge during the ball. Should you make an enemy of Rose instead she will turn on the Inquisition and abandon the fortress entirely, either being enslaved by the Marquis ( timeline dependent ) or killing him and ascending bard status, using information acquired from the Inquisition to help advance her status among the nobility and become a highly sought-after Bard. 

     One of her special talents is her song; it can allure and confuse depending on the situation at hand or her intent. Even in the presence of other bards many will eventually look only to Rose; as she was trained in song and dance, using her natural good looks and beautiful voice to arouse and beguile. Rose also has a specialization in the Reaver class, and depending on the timeline will enhance these abilities or she will fall to the madness of not only the dragons blood, but her own WRATH. 

Name: Rose, Rose of Thorns ( Bardmaster status ), Rose of The Bards and The Carta ( timeline / verse dependent ) Age: 24 / 25 Sex: Female Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Race: Elf 

Mother: Deva ( unknown ) Father: Yevrand ( unknown ) Sibling(s): None ( unknown )

Mentor / Bardmaster: Marquis Francis Duret Employer: Barone Malatesta ( twice removed to Francis )

Skills: Bard and Reaver  Occupation: Bard / Bardmaster Birthplace: Between Nevarra and Free Marches ( closer to Free Marches ) Current Residence: Orlais / Skyhold ( timeline / verse dependent )

ALIGNMENT TRACKER

    Chaste ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌ ● Lustful    Energetic ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Lazy    Forgiving ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Vengeful   Generous ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Selfish       Honest ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌ Deceitful            Just ◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌ Arbitrary      Merciful ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Cruel       Modest ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌ Proud          Pious ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Worldly      Prudent ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌ Reckless Temperate ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Indulgent     Trusting ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Suspicious    Valorous ◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌ Cowardly

BIG 5 PERSONALITY TRAITS

EXTRAVERSION

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ : outgoing ★★★★★★★★☆☆ : risk-taking ★★★★★★★★★☆ : excitement-seeking ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ : physically adventurous

AGREEABLENESS

★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : trusting ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : compassionate ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : empathetic ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ : enjoys company

NEUROTICISM

★★★★★★★★★★: angry ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ : depressed ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ : anxiety ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : emotionally stable

CONSCIENTIOUSNESS

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ : self-disciplined ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ : hard-working ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ : prepared/dutiful ★★★★★★★★★☆ : aims to over-achieve

OPENNESS TO EXPERIENCE

★★★★★★★☆☆☆ : likes new things ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ : likes novel settings ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ : intellectual/ideas/imaginative ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ : enjoys art/culture/adventure

GENERAL SKILLS

★★☆☆☆ Climbing ★★★★★ Riding ★★★★☆ Swimming ★★★★☆ Tracking ★★★★☆ Cooking ★★★☆☆ First Aid ★★★★☆ Pick-Pocketing ★★★★☆ Survival

ARMOR AND WEAPONS

Light armor or heavy armor?:  Light / Medium  Favourite weapon: Daggers / Claws ( Reaver ) Name of your weapon(s):  Unknown; she does not attach herself to weapons Fight with shield?: No

★★★☆☆ Edged weapons ★★★★★ Dual Weapons ☆☆☆☆☆ Crushing weapons (mazes, clubs, etc) ★☆☆☆☆ Two-handed weapons ★★★☆☆ Thrown weapons (knives, axes, javelins) ★★★★★ Archery

CRAFTING SKILLS

★★★☆☆ Herbalism ★★★★☆ Poison-Making ★★★☆☆ Traps-Making ��☆☆☆☆ Armor-Crafting ★☆☆☆☆ Weapon-Crafting ★☆☆☆☆ Rune-Crafting

INFLUENCE SKILLS

★★★★☆ Acting ★★★☆☆ Appraisal ★★★★☆ Bribery ★★★☆☆ Diplomacy ★★★☆☆ Gambling ★★★☆☆ Interrogation ★★☆☆☆ Leadership ★★☆☆☆ Public Speaking ★★★★★ Seduction ★★☆☆☆ Trading ★★★★★ Trickery

ROGUE SKILLS

★★★★☆ Lock picking ★★★☆☆ Disarming Traps

TALENTS:

★★★★☆ Sabotage ★★☆☆☆ Scoundrel ★★★☆☆ Specialist ★★★★☆ Subterfuge

SPECIALIZATIONS:

★★★★☆ Assassin ★★★☆☆ Duelist ★★☆☆☆ Shadow ★★★★★ Bard ★☆☆☆☆ Ranger ☆☆☆☆☆ Legionnaire Scout ★★★★★ Other ( Reaver )

OTHER

★★★☆☆ Read / Write

LANGUAGES:

★★★★★ Common Tongue ★★★☆☆ Elven Language ★★★★☆ Orlesian ★★☆☆☆ Antivan ☆☆☆☆☆ Rivaini ☆☆☆☆☆ Ander ★☆☆☆☆ Qunlat ★☆☆☆☆ Tevene ☆☆☆☆☆ Ancient Tevene

[feynites]

Can you do a top 10 assholes of Dragon age and give us the reasons why their on the list and why some are worse then others?

Hmm.

Okay. I thought about this, and I realized that it would be very hard to quantify a lot of this stuff, because most characters in this series are assholes in at least some way. And how anyone would rate their asshole tendencies is bound to vary a lot based on personal values and perspective. For example, someone might find Aveline’s tendency to kinkshame Isabela much more asshole-y than Oghren’s inappropriate sexual overtures. And someone else might just be like ‘okay but Sten killed an entire family for no good reason’. Which would then lead us straight to A List villains, basically, because if we’re getting into the really ugly stuff, that’s who we’ve got.

So, I’ve decided to try and rate this list by two major deciding factors.

One is consequence - i.e. how many people did they get killed, how much stuff was destroyed, how much suffering was created.

The other is remorse/motivation - i.e. why did they do things that led to pain and suffering, what (if any) regrets do they have, and do they go about attempting to atone for it?

On that note, the list is below the cut. To disclaim - obviously this is going to contain some character criticism. If you see a character on this list and don’t want to read about it, feel free to skip their entry. Or skip the whole list altogether. This is by no means an attempt to shame anybody for liking certain characters or anything along those lines.

10. There are too many assholes who could fill this bottom slot, honestly. Petty, individually horrific people whose only saving grace is that they were ultimately not that important. Vaughan Kendells, Quentin, Magister Erimond, Bartrand Tethras, Bhelen Aeducan, the Viddasala, etc. So this is actually just going to be a reserve slot to acknowledge that there are a lot of assholes in Thedas. You’re all Number Ten in my heart.

9. Loghain Mac Tyr

Turning away from a questionable battle situation is a debatable tactic. Not wanting to permit Orlesian forces across Ferelden borders? Also worthy of discussion. Selling alienage elves into slavery and framing and putting out a bounty on the only people who are capable of dealing with the darkspawn threat at your doorstep, on the other hand, are pretty hard actions to bounce back from. Especially when you are a man who is absolute shit at going ‘whoops, my bad’. Nearly causing the destruction of Ferelden gets Loghain to Number Nine, but no higher.

8. Rendon Howe

I mean… if someone were to distil ‘essence of asshole’ into its purest form and inject it into a mosquito, I’m pretty sure the end result would be something like Rendon Howe. Spiritually, he should be top of this list. Fortunately for the rest of Thedas, though, he ultimately lacked the power he’d need to get there.

7. Magister Danarius

Slave owning rapist who is entirely sane and acting of his own volition and cruelty? Why isn’t he higher on this list? Well, mostly because of scale. But scale’s also part of the reason why I wanted him on here. Danarius may not have had the opportunity or means that some people on this list have had to inflict his dickishness on vast swaths of people, but he embodies a certain irrefutable, personal kind of evil that is inextricably tied to such things. And, y’know, he did his best to be the worst kind of human he could be with the tools he had. Honestly, he is probably far worse, as a person, than a lot of people higher on this list. He would have been Corypheus if given half a chance. But he wasn’t given that chance. I knew he definitely needed to be on here, though.

6. Solas

Solas gets to a middle point on this list, and he is mostly here for his actions regarding Corypheus, Felassan, and Briala’s eluvian network, and the far-reaching scope of basically everything he does. His future actions are still up in the air, and his confirmed up-to-date actions contain a balance of significant good and bad, and he shows a lot of remorse (though it’s not always clear what for, precisely). Because of his mystery, it’s hard to rank the full consequences or asshole-ness of his character, yet. He’s the guy who put up the Veil in what was probably an act of desperation, he may have saved the world (possibly more than once), and he has also threatened to destroy it. So, he’s at Number Six for now, because man is this a steep competition.

5. Grand Cleric Elthina & Meredith Stannard

Posts five and four on this list are going to double-up, if only because a lot of the crimes, consequences, and attendant assholery were group efforts. Together, Elthina and Meredith both sought to seize control over Kirkwall, with Elthina’s eye likely towards being named Divine in the long run, and Meredith’s interest mostly veering more towards being able to kill and torment any and all mages as she pleased. Not only did an entire city suffer under their combined hubris and cruelty, but Meredith’s use of red lyrium and the subsequent social conflicts ignited by their actions have had negative ripple effects throughout Thedas, with neither of them showing the least bit of genuine repentance or remorse. 

4. Empress Celene & Gaspard de Chalons

There is something especially asshole-ish about people who will throw countless other lives to the winds for the sake of being the winner of a game, and Celene and Gaspard are pretty much this concept distilled and flavoured in ‘diplomacy’ and ‘military’ forms. Still, they only just beat out Elthina and Meredith, and in part because the both of them had much more power and influence to leverage in their actions, with an entire empire at their fingertips, rather than a city. The corruption of Orlais persists, and the plight of the elven people has worsened, thanks to these genocidal reprobates.

3. Mythal

Now, this is Mythal I am talking about - the ancient elven ‘goddess’, not Flemeth. Flemeth is surely an asshole, but the jury is largely still out on how much of an asshole. To some extent there are still a lot of questions about Mythal, too, so this entry is really more of a joint effort between Mythal and the other ancient elven gods of her crew. But she gets to hold the name slot until we know more about them, as well, because all evidence points to Mythal having established the ancient slave empire of the elves. And while she seems to have eventually come to regret it, the fact that she probably got the ball rolling on everything from slavery to darkspawn to magical corruption, puts her here for now.

2. Corypheus

Corypheus is an asshole in so many senses that, as a character, he’s almost dull. The dude has zero remorse, his actions have quite probably directly resulted in the current Blight situation in Thedas (though it’s doubtful he’s actually responsible for the taint), he’s a prick who owned slaves and murders people left and right, and even the other assholes in this list would probably think he was worth killing. The only reason he’s not number one is because, as much chaos and suffering as Corypheus has caused, there’s one other individual who has managed to have a worse impact on the world - though the jury’s still out on what his personality was actually like.

1. Emperor Kordillus Drakon I

One of the biggest fucking assholes in Thedosian history is the guy who founded the Orlesian Empire and the Chantry, and cemented nearly every reprehensible tendency of the current power structures of the world. Drakon is not technically even a minor character - he only exists in the lore - but I hate him. I hate him so much. In a post-Andraste world where slavery was out of fashion in most of Thedas and various faiths and tribes were making their way, Drakon rose up, and like most conquerors, immediately began murdering the shit out of people who couldn’t fight back, and creating institutions of slavery that used more tactful turns of phrase to disguise what they were. The consequences of Drakon’s rise to power, and how he went about it, are defining conflicts throughout Thedas even so long after his death. Thedas is, in no small part, a violent, war-torn nation thanks to the institutions which Drakon put in place, and he had no reason for doing any of it except that he really liked the idea of being God King of Everything.

[serendipitousoracle]

zodiac shooting star mixtape & fragrance for Eg(any aus) & Ria & Sov plz

[ ♡OC ask meme ♡ ]

By question:

zodiac: what’s their sign? does it influence theirpersonality? do they care about astrology?                              

Egeire Mahariel & Egeria “Ria” Surana:

As Egeire is a derivative of Egeria and Egeria is originally aSelf Insert, both are born in the twelfth month, known as Cassusor Haring. Unfortunately if I ever nailed down a date fortheir birthday/s I absolutely cannot find it.They very likelystill both fall in the range for Sagittarius, though. I don’t thinkit terribly influences their personalities, though I am very biasedby years of being umimpressed with the common astrology babble of“Sagittarius is an extrovert who loves adventures and excitementand is changeable and spontaneous!!1!!1“ Ria would probably payastrology no mind and Egeire would probably mostly do the same but heis also absolutely the type to lowkey look up sign compatibility withpeople he gets crushes on.

In the Chinese zodiac, they were both born in 9:08 I believe,which if you translate that straight as 908, means they’re EarthDragons. I… think.

Soveliss Liadon:

yeah I’ve got 0 idea when Sov was born. soz fam. if it becomesimportant to his backstory or if aub develops any Cool Year Info NShit maybe I will figure that out but honestly I never come up withcharacter birthdays until it comes up. which is not often. I don’teven have any real vibes for seasons they all seem Fine.

shooting star: if your OC(s) could have one wish whatwould it be?  

Egeire Mahariel

Perhaps… peace, or maybe life depending on the timeframe. Peacebeing the ability to be cured of the Taint in his blood and live alife that makes him happy with the people who make him happy.Alternatively, life– namely, Tamlen’s. He feels guilty aboutTamlen’s death for a long time. Even if Tamlen isn’t his…Egeire wants his friend to live a full life and die a death not inagony.

(Egeire’s wish for peace extends to any Warden Egeire AU, but inWAW!AU imagine his life wish expanding. it would probably take quitesome rules-lawyering to keep it from being disastrous, but what ifEgeire could undo so much sorrow? Tamlen lives, and so does anybodyfrom Clan Sabrae who might have perished in the Blight. The Circle isnot ravaged, and so many mages who were locked behind heavy doors andleft to die have a second chance at life. Hundreds of soldiers, lostat Ostagar and beyond, return home to family and loved ones.Consultation is probably needed to keep his tongue from erring intosomething unwise, but what if the past year did not need to be soakedin so much grief? And, well… he has plenty of role modelsfor ambitious goals, now.

Royals AU Egeire would consider it, and… honestly find hedoesn’t want for much. He is happy with Denoreth, and unlike theother royals AU, this Egeire is not as scarred by Cyrron beforeCyrron is eliminated from his life. His training with Cyrron isultimately what allows him to keep Denoreth safe, in fact, and evenDen likes watching him fight. so Egeire would probably just wish forsomething like eternal prosperity upon both their kingdoms or somesuch.

Fugitives AU Egeire probably has an interesting wish: A life wherehe is never taken and broken by Cyrron, but still gets to meet andend up happy with Denoreth like he is now, without the trauma.Failing that, the follow-ups would be erasing the aftereffects ofsaid trauma, or him and Denoreth having a life of comfort where theynever have to struggle to get by again, like they did when they firstfled their past lives)

Egeria Surana

I think the big thing that would address a lot of Ria’s hurts inlife would be equality; if elves and mages and non-Andrastians wereon even footing with humans (etc), maybe then she and those who comeafter her wouldn’t have to worry about mages (some of themso young) leaping from high windows or choosing Tranquility,and elves wouldn’t suffer in alienages, and she would not feel socaught on a tightrope between Warden and elfmagegirl, the latter ofwhich also becomes a real threat to her relationship with Alistair.It is a gigantic scale wish, but it’s one concept, and itwould likely be hers.

Post-Inquisition, the wish she makes probably wouldn’tchange… but honestly, on the inside, she just wants Alistair backfrom the Fade.

Soveliss Liadon

There are two major angles Sov can wish for: past and future. Onthe one hand, he could have everything he lost back. The monks couldlive again, he could have a home, they could perhaps reconcile, andhe could spend like a week straight just crying and holding onto eachand every one of them for dear life.

But on the other hand, there is the future. There is him as anadventurer, a warlock, and a traveling acolyte. For the future, hiswish would likely be power. Knowledge, magic, and control farbeyond his current comprehension. With enough magic he could protectwhat few things he still cares about, and fulfill his duties toKelemvor in protecting others and striking down undead. With enoughmagic, he might not feel so small compared to his patron, though hewould not be able to fathom being on equal footing (or being morepowerful than?) his dear patron, an archfey. With enough magic… hecould perhaps bring his family of monks back himself, or at least putthem to rest so they no longer haunt the halls of the monastery. Sogiven the choice, Soveliss would probably wish for magic, power, andknowledge.

What could possibly go wrong?

Under the cut: mixtape & fragrance

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songsthey themselves would like

Answeredhere for normal Egeire, Egeria, and Soveliss.

Royals AU Egeire:

1. “TheBest Is Yet To Come” - Frank Sinatra (once Egeire and Denorethfinally get to the point of being in love… things are reallylooking up)

2. “I Lived” - OneRepublic (being very suddenly thrown into an arranged marriage feels a bit like being thrown to the wolves, but perhaps by the end of everything, he will have finally lived a life of his own choosing.)

3. “Collide” - Howie Day (tentative, sweeter love song for boys gettin’ to know each other)

4. “Float On” - Modest Mouse (chill song about carrying on through setbacks, bc hey that’s p much all Eg can do at this point)

5. “Any Way You Want It” - Journey (surprise most of this AU rn is young princes falling in love and holding onto themselves despite the politics as much as possible)

Fugitives AU Egeire:

1. “TheOnly Exception” - Paramore (Egeire learned from Cyrron thatlove was fickle and fleeting and led only to hell and heartbreak, andDenoreth had figured out pretty quickly that getting attached topeople was a fool’s errand, but…)

2. “Be OK”- Ingrid Michaelson (Poor tol has spent so long being torn topieces and scrambled and he just… wants to have the partsof himself he lost back)

3. “Field of Innocence” - Evanescence (The sadder half of the above coin. Flip-flopping between wanting to Be OK again and just wanting to go back to before he was ever hurt.)

4. “Jump the Fence” - Mother Mother (Fleeing and freedom and not necessarily goodness, only looking out for themselves and going straight back to merc work and profiting (surviving) off of doing richer bastards’ dirty work)

5. “Give Me A Sign” - Breaking Benjamin (Just. Boys gotta hold onto each other and try to keep each other together through financial struggling and moral conflict and internalized shit and the scars will remain but they can too.)

Bonus: “Home”- Phillip Phillips (could apply to both AUs, really. everything is uncertain- and inFugitives AU especially even terrifying- but they will have a home.This new place will be home, one day.)

fragrance: what do your OCs smell like?                              

Egeire Mahariel:

Canon/WAW: Leather and sweat typically, from being out on the road, often with some measure of blood. When they get to Vigil’s Keep and there’s room for fancy soaps and shit, he would probably be particular to pine or herbal scents or smth.

Royals: really it’s going to be like soap and scented oil rubbed into his hair or halla and sweat and there’s not a whole lot of in-between

Fugitives: When Denoreth first meets him, it is the light, almost undetectable scent of salt water and ocean breeze. This lingers through most of their encounters, at varying degrees of intensity, until they make their break for it– that day is just sweat and fear, ironically as they are surrounded by the real sea and eventually have their final confrontation with Cyrron. After that, Egeire never smells of the ocean again. He likes apple and water lily and honey scented soaps, and the smell of flowers often lingers on him when he leaves his room. He also specifically keeps unscented soap around for when they’re working.

Egeria Surana:

Scents don’t cling to her much. Soap and books if anything, in the Circle. Sweat on the road. Likes flowery soaps once she can get her hands on them. Still only lingers for so long, though.

Soveliss Liadon:

Pre-adventuring Sov mostly smelled like old, old books and incense. Adventuring Sov probably smells of pretty little considering he is extremely ready and willing to basically prestidigitate off layers of skin to keep himself fairly clean. Dusk of the New Morning Soveliss probably smelled like dust and food, while Here There Be Kerbolds Soveliss (aka current Sov which is absolutely getting a The Adventure Zone reference name bc of the Abraca-Fuck-You quote) probably smells like either linen or faintly of swamp (bc grumblegrumble it takes /so much prestidigitation/ to get swamp water out and he’s probably still going to have to wash so much shit after this is over).

[lavalampelfchild]

Sex and marriage in Ferelden (and my OCs’ views on them)

Based on a conversation I had with @celeritassagittae that got me thinking about how my OCs view sex and marriage in Thedas.  The lore itself is quite sparse on what each respective nation’s societal view on marriage and extramarital sex is, and there’s only one codex entry that I’ve found that talks about the different views on sexuality and sexual identity, which doesn’t really cover the whole spectrum.  

The act of sex and the institution of marriage have highly specific connotations and roles in different societies in real life, and BioWare seems to be taking its cue from different western societies and their different views on sex and marriage.  However, marriage, interestingly enough, is not mentioned very much at all in BioWare’s lore, though different sexual identities are, in a fairly predictable example of modern projection onto historically-based fantasy.  This strikes me as interesting and somewhat weird given the very Christian-like nature (let’s face it, the religion surrounding the Maker is a carbon copy of Christianity) of the Maker’s religion, Andrastianism.

Historically, Christianity has ascribed great significance to the role of marriage in the lives of its followers (from a certain point in its history onward).  After the apocalyptic writers who discouraged marriage and sex both, like Paul, had passed on, Christian authorities began to encourage marriage, describing it as a pure and admirable connection between a man and a woman.  

In contrast to that, sex was symbolic of impurity, of lack of control, of unholy lust, and – the kicker – the physical manifestation of our human imperfections and desires. Christians viewed marriage as the only condition which allowed two people to engage in sexual intercourse without it being emblematic of these things (and even then, never for pleasure, but always for procreation).  Christianity, as it grew from the ancient to the modern times, has only become more interested in the taboo nature of sex and what it means to be engaging in it before or without marriage to mediate.

Andrastianism has none of that.  There is literally no mention of sex or marriage in any of the tenets of this religion, and the only possible significance it has to the religion is in the story of Andraste’s death, which features a traitorous husband.  So even in Andraste’s time, the institution of marriage already existed, and was viewed as sanctimonious, though, in the story of Andraste, specifically in the tradition of the Avvar.  Andrastianism somehow grew from this story and this tradition, so perhaps they simply adopted the traditions of the Avvar and melded it all into this new Andraste-focused religion. 

But that still leaves the question of why the Chantry gives no definitive philosophy or stance regarding marriage or sex.  We know that things like vows exist, and specifically vows of chastity, which we hear about from characters like Leliana, Sebastian, and Cullen, and the terminology surrounding that (affirmed, lay people, confirmed, etc.) is remarkably similar to Christian – and, specifically, Catholic – terminology. So, why take the chastity but not give a reason for that?  One of the reasons for chastity in Christianity developed when Christianity was taking Ancient Rome by storm and people started to portray Jesus as being chaste.  The Jesus-figure in Andrastianism was Andraste, and she had a husband and children when she became a divine figure.  She is not depicted, by the time we get to the start of the DA series, as being chaste.  So what’s the reason for the chastity in this religion?

And, if there is chastity, what about marriage?  Why isn’t marriage being touted as a holy thing because it’s a state into which Andraste herself entered, first with a mortal, then with the Maker?  She’s known as the Maker’s Bride; that’s incredibly specific terminology that links her holiness to an explicitly married state. Why would not the Chantry encourage the repetition of this in its followers?

My thoughts on this are that the Chantry does in fact encourage marriage and discourage extramarital sex, though I’m frustrated to say I don’t know why the latter is the case. But, with regards to marriage, the Chantry views it as a holy institution that follows in the footsteps of Andraste and prepares those involved, the women especially, to ascend to the Maker when they die and behave as sort of secondary brides in the afterlife. I just figure that “The Bride” should be a very important iteration of Andraste’s character, and the act of getting married would be monumentally important because of that.

However, that is just my view, and it’s entirely possible that I’m missing something or that there actually is an answer to this, and I just haven’t seen it.  Feel free to add if you find that, but for the time being, I want to add what my characters each respectively think of the institution of marriage, of sex, and of whether or not you need one to have the other:

Dragon Age: Origins:

 Aja Amell: Aja believes very much in the sanctity of marriage and of not having sex until after one is married.  Raised in the Circle with no way to avoid exposure to Andrastianism, she grew up with sermons and services and constant lectures about the Chant of Light, about the scriptures of the religion, and about the tenets that were meant to guide one’s behavior.  

That being said, she also believes that she personally will never get married, as those kinds of relationships between mages are discouraged and prevented by the Chantry and templars present at the Circle.  As a result, Aja is very aware of the notion of the “forbidden fruit” (though it’s not specifically a fruit in this case, as there’s no fruit-related story in Andrastian lore that deals with giving into desire and temptation), and part of the reason her will-they/won’t-they interactions with Cullen are thrilling to her is because it is absolutely classified as something that would be forbidden.  On the flip side, part of the reason she has never acted on her feelings for Cullen is because, while exciting to flutter her eyelashes at him from afar, there is no way she would have the courage to take the actual risk of engaging romantically with him when she is painfully aware of what is at stake.

This fear of hers contributes to a general feeling of shock when she finds out about what Jowan wants to do with Lily; Aja had never known Jowan to be much of a risk-taker, yet here he is sneaking around with a lover – and an initiate of the Chantry, no less! – when he could so very easily be caught by the templars or the other sisters.  Her experiences with Jowan and Lily in the basement, her subsequent initiation into the Grey Wardens, and her foray out into the world beyond the Circle all succeed in throwing Aja’s own views of herself and the world completely off-kilter, including how she feels about marriage, love, and sex.  For her, it all becomes one big question mark.

Velyn Mahariel: As a Dalish elf, Velyn has absolutely no concern for Andrastianism whatsoever, and honestly, his people’s religion is even more frustrating in this regard because we hear even less about how the institution of marriage works, or what the view of sex outside marriage is among the Dalish. My guess would be that the clan itself has to be remarkably stringent and careful about who engages in sex because children of unknown parentage present a problem of potentially being from another unknown clan, which could greatly affect that clan’s standing with the first one.  

So my guess would be that marriages are often arranged between different allied clans so as to keep inbreeding from occurring and to keep new and varied genes coming into the clan. For that reason, casual sex is discouraged.  (However, there is the issue of the Mahariel’s parents being of different clans and having to sneak out to meet one another to meet; there’s also the issue of Tamlen Mahariel and a female Mahariel potentially having feelings for one another, which are mentioned in a positive light by another member of the clan later on; and finally the mini quest in which you help a young apprentice of Zathrian’s clan woo a hunter of the same clan, sooo… Really, it’s kind of up in the air for the Dalish)

For Velyn himself, he is very much of the view of his clan: sex is not something to be had casually, and an arranged marriage is something to expect in the future.  He feels no need to “prove his masculinity” by talking about sexual conquests because that’s simply not how Dalish society views masculinity; showing off strength has little to do with sex itself, and more to do with one’s role and success within the Dalish clan from a practical standpoint. And chastity is strictly an Andrastian convention; the Dalish care about reproduction so as to have more people help with any given role, not the first time sex happens for someone.

When confronted with the idea of people having sex without being married, and strictly for pleasure, Velyn has some mixed feelings.  He associates it with humans, for one, and believes that to be another example of their own lack of control over themselves.

 Ila Tabris: Similar to the Dalish, arranged marriages are a norm for alienage elves, and dowries reign supreme.  Ila has always known that she would be set up with a husband when she was old enough, and it never really bothered her because it didn’t affect her freedom at all; being stuck in an alienage was already doing that. Honestly, Ila has no strong opinion one way or another; marriage simply is, and so is sex, and that’s how she’s going to create her family when it’s her turn.

But the knowledge of people engaging in sex solely for pleasure, and before marriage, is another example of the culture shock she experiences after leaving the alienage. Yes, she’s aware of hormones and that the body finds sex pleasurable, and she, like many others at that age, experimented a bit with her own body when she was a teenager, but other than that, she hasn’t really indulged in sex with others.  (It’s also somewhat difficult when you’re limited to a community that you’ve known since you were a child, of which you knew all the residents as either child peers or adults to look up to; once you’re past the hormonal stage, you tend to avoid looking at the people of that community as potential romantic partners.)

Though open to the practices and beliefs of non-alienage cultures, Ila is not particularly interested engaging in the (to her) odd practice of casual sex with someone she does not know all that well.  Her own culture aside, Ila is just not a very sexual person, and she doesn’t feel those urges as poignantly as some others might.  

With regards to marriage, however, she feels the loss of her fiancé keenly, and is thrown off a bit by the abrupt absence of an imminent marriage in her life.  She had been expecting to take a husband, have a child or children, and she had honestly been looking forward to that.  It would have been a happy addition to her family (especially for her father, who was still suffering the loss of his wife, Ila’s mother) and community.  It would have brought her father and cousins happiness, and it would have started a new chapter in her life; that it all fell apart so spectacularly adds to the sense of failure Ila felt striking out with the Grey Wardens.

 Gundhram Aeducan: Dwarves have a view of sex and marriage that is much more on the practical side.  Like the Dalish, they are very careful about who occupies what role in society, and the size of their own population.  Because the dwarves are currently dealing with a decline in their overall population, reproduction is a huge deal.  Because the traditions of the ancient days – like the caste system – are still in place, reproduction must occur within that structure and frame.  So marriage exists to cement alliances and make connections between people of the same caste.  Sex exists as an entirely separate act from marriage, and serves primarily for reproduction purposes.  And rank and caste preside over both marriage and sex.  

For the dwarves, social role, rank, and caste determine relationships, and if one acts within that framework, then sex can be had for pleasure or practicality.  Nobles engage with nobles – or take a casteless woman as a lover solely for the purpose of bearing a child – smiths engage with smiths, warriors with warriors, etc.  Within one’s own caste, the rules are at their most lax.  When engaging with a member of another caste, the rules become stricter, and the rules apply to all manner of engagement.  That’s simply how it is in Gundhram’s life.  

But, once he’s banished, the rules of Orzammar and dwarven society no longer apply to him, and he’s acutely aware of this.  His sense of self-discipline keeps him from engaging too much in casual sex with surfacers, though he has no qualms about engaging in extramarital sex.  He had sex with two women at once without being married and had a child with one of them.  Had he still been a noble when Mardy told him of her son, that would have been cause for cheer and celebration for his family, even though she was casteless and he unmarried. As it is when he’s exiled, Gundhram is expecting to have to relax many of his beliefs in order to survive, and he’s prepared to do that, including the beliefs surrounding sex.  And hey, he enjoys it, he’ll find a way to go about the whole thing prudently.

For his own personal sexuality, Gundhram is a man who is attracted to strength.  He doesn’t care at all for distinctions between genders or the biological sexes; if someone is strong (usually physically strong) there’s a greater chance Gundhram will be attracted to them.  As a practical man with regards to reproduction, Gundhram is certainly capable of feeling an attraction toward someone he doesn’t believe to be particularly worthy of that attraction (like noble hunters), but it will always be an attraction with a purpose, and therefore will never really extend beyond something physical.  With other, more genuine attractions, Gundhram often experiences at least feelings of respect or admiration for his partner.  Although, he has never equated any kind of sexual attraction with feelings of love.  Emotions like that have always, in his experiences, existed separately from things like marriage and sex.

 Tristan Brosca: As a casteless man, it has always been highly unlikely for Tristan to find a willing sexual partner in Orzammar.  Had he been a casteless woman, he could have taken up noble hunting like his sister, but as it is, no self-respecting dwarven woman of any caste would want her son to be born casteless (the child takes the father’s caste in dwarven society), so Tristan’s fate in Orzammar was sealed from the moment he was born.

Things changed for him in the carta, and sex as a form of pleasure, and even as a form of rebellion against dwarven traditions – the same dwarven traditions that put them into a system of dirty casteless thieves – became a little more normal, though still was not overly frequent.  As a result of this, Tristan could not care less if he has sex while unmarried.  To him, marriage is a pipe dream, something that he doesn’t even want, but that would never happen to him even if he did. Becoming a Grey Warden doesn’t change that.  

And as for sex, it’s something to be done only when there’s really no better way to handle one’s own urges because it requires him to make himself vulnerable to another person, and that’s not acceptable without a fundamental level of trust that this other person isn’t going to try to kill him.  Very rarely is the pleasure worth that risk.  And so, very rarely, does Tristan ever engage in sex.  He’s got two hands, and he can use both of them if it comes to that.

Gazza Cousland: Gazza is in an interesting position before the attack Howe makes on Highever: she is technically not of noble blood, and the people of Highever are aware of this, so there’s no real expectation for her to carry on the Cousland line because she’s not of that line.  In addition to that, her older brother has already cemented the Cousland legacy, being the firstborn son and already having a healthy son of his own by the start of the events of Origins.  So in terms of marriage, though Gazza lives in a society that places heavy emphasis on the Andrastian version of marriage, there is no pressure on Gazza.  

Sex, on the other hand, is something that many nobles of the day engaged in recreationally, that being seen as something to which nobles were entitled.  It was certainly an important means of cementing a line and ensuring that a family or dynasty could live on, but even the possibility of children born out of wedlock didn’t completely deter noble or royal families from engaging in extramarital affairs or “affairs of passion”.  So technically, if she had wanted to, Gazza could have found a partner or several with whom she could engage in recreational sex.

However, Gazza’s own inability to speak, in addition to her physical condition (technically alopecia areata, but no one knows what that is in Thedas, so all anyone knows is that Gazza isn’t capable of growing hair anywhere on her body) have given her a lower view of her physical appeal than she might have otherwise had.  While she does experience attraction to others, she’s hesitant to act on it.  She also very strictly prevents any romantic or sexual interaction between herself and someone else that might be seen as an abuse of power on her part.  Gazza is not interested in sycophants, and she’s also not interested in using her status and power in society to coerce someone into her bed.  This is precisely the reason why she does not go to bed with Iona (though Iona shows definite interest) in the origin sequence of the game; though she appreciates and would like to act on their mutual attraction, she does not want to put Iona (an elf and servant) in a position which she (Iona) feels obligates her to offer herself to Gazza more.

In terms of Gazza’s personal sexuality, she prefers women to men, and very personally believes that the best kind of sex would occur with someone one loves.  Since she is not expected to have children, Gazza is freed from the necessity of viewing sex as exclusively or primarily a means of reproduction, and – being surrounded by a vast array of literature that deals with the subject of sex and romance and the potential connection thereof – has come to hold a rather romantic ideal regarding sex, love, and marriage (Fergus’s own happy marriage to a woman he loves has also contributed to Gazza’s view on this).  She does not broadcast this view of hers, however.