#also ir abelas = i'm sorry

[dalishborne]

❝ My apologies if I have given offense. ❞

— from Sontna on @luna-mxth ;v;

As Revenelan realized the awkwardness of the situation, a sudden warmth crept up her cheeks, pinched pink by a twinge of embarrassment. She held a hand up, as if to disspell the Inquisitor's apology, and feverently shook her head.

"No, no, it was I that was in error," Revenelan winced, the corners of her lips curling into an apologetic frown. "Ir abelas, lethallin. I overstepped by making an assumption about your faith. I will do better to be less presumptuous in the future."

As she spoke, a murky discomfort gnawed at her conscience – the tight stretch of adjusting to unfamiliarity as Revenelan grappled with how quickly her world had opened up since committing herself to the Inquisition. On one hand, she was glad to to see so many of the Elvhen in one place, and yet to her own dismay, a great number seemed to have turned away from the light of the Creators. While she had known that not all Elvhen lived as the Dalish did, it was still a grounding moment for Revenelan to see exactly how far her people have strayed from their true selves.

That was the inception of Revenelan's mistake. It was the Inquisitor's vallaslin that had strengthened her resolve to join the Inquisition's efforts; surely, her kin would understand the plight of Clan Aravun's need for protection in such troubling times, and Revenelan would be all too happy to support one of her own. The Inquisitor, to her, was a sign from the Creators, a confirmation of Revenelan's efforts to pull her clan from the shadows and into the world at large – and yet it appeared that Sontna, too, tread a different path than most Dalish.

"If you don't mind me asking," Revenelan searched Sontna's golden eyes with interest, her natural curiosity getting the better of her. "Which clan is it that you come from, if any at all?"

[anneapocalypse]

Choosing violence! 8 and 22, for any of the dragon age games.

🔥 choose violence ask game 🔥

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

I've already answered this one with something serious so this time I will resort to pedantry. 😛 This isn't so much an opinion as it is just popular fanon that I don't care for, but certain fanmade projects to expand on the fragments of the elven language have solidified fanon that I don't agree with and don't think is supported by canon. The first is calling the language itself "Elvhen," which to my knowledge is never used in canon to refer to the language. The language (ancient or modern) is referred to as Elvish or Elven. "Elvhen" means "the people" and that's what it refers to. Could you extrapolate from that and use it as the name of the language as well, sure I guess, but I've never seen that usage in canon and we already have the more distinct and unambiguous "Elvish" for the language.

Secondly I disagree with the translation of "ma" as "my." Overwhelmingly, the canon usages of "ma" support its meaning "you." Ar lath ma means I love you, ma serannas means thank you, ma nuvenin means as you say, ma harel means you lie, etc and so forth.

The only instance I have ever seen that would support "ma" meaning "my" is Merrill's use of "ma vhenan" in DA2, as in "Ir abelas, ma vhenan." (According to a wiki footnote, Solas also says "ma vhenan" but it doesn't say where and I have never found it; usually, he calls a romanced Lavellan simply "vhenan.") This being such an outlier from other clear usages, my conclusion is that either it was an error that was never caught in DA2's rushed development, or "ma vhenan" is an idiom that doesn't translate literally (perhaps meaning something closer to "you, my heart."

As always, I could be wrong, and I'm always willing to look at evidence I've missed, but to the best of my present knowledge, "ma" does not mean "my," it means "you."

I said it was going to be pedantic, sorry. 😂

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Again, for loose values of "everyone," but THE POLITICS!! The politics of Thedas--nations, the Chantry, social and class politics, all the interplays of power and influence are so interesting to me, in ways that extend far beyond world state decisions. Also, The Masked Empire is really fucking good--not just for a video game tie-in novel but in my opinion, for a novel period. I'd recommend it to anyone interested in a story about the nature of power and some problematic lesbians.

[randomness-in-motion]

🌻 How old is your Rook? How do they feel about celebrating their birthday? What gift has meant the most to them?

Makié is 32, they don't celebrate their birthday. Their father gifted them a book about Wyverns on their 8th, it was the last gift they received and their most cherished for that reason.

🪻 What is the most painful injury your Rook has received? How has it affected them once it healed/scarred?

The scars across their body from an overload of electric magic when they were 8 1/2. Occasionally they'll have either emotionally overwhelming moments or moments of overexertion that lead to magic overload, causing the scars to become irritated/inflamed.

🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved?

Haven't currently written about them having any arguments, though I do have one in mind for a future entry due to a recent spree of writing. I think Lucanis is going to be doing some apology baking.

🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard?

Makié has an older sister and a twin brother. They have not seen them since they were 8 1/2, and haven't been able to find out what happened to them in the years since. Their closest friend Dalia is more of a surrogate mother figure, and is also the person that rescued them and brought them to the Crows after they'd healed. She still lives in Treviso and Makié visits her as often as possible.

🌾 If there was a demon trying to trap/take over Rook, what kind would be the most successful? What would break their hold?

A desire demon actually tried and failed around a year before Makié ended up being sent off with Varric, and then tried and failed again not long after they'd joined Varric. If there were a demon that could actually succeed, it would be a Despair Demon.

🌱 Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end?

Prior to Veilguard Makié had only been in one relationship, they'd been seeing a Veil Jumper. Iseri was adventurous and bad at taking advice when focused on a goal. The relationship ended when Iseri did not survive an encounter with a Venatori lackey.

🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say?

Hibiscus and Honey, and occasionally Blood Orange.

🌷If Rook needed to get away from their responsibilities for a moment, where would they go? Where is their safe space outside the Lighthouse?

They have a small alcove in the top floor of a Treviso building that no one uses, when they get stressed they sneak off at night and spend time there laying in a nest of blankets & pillows staring out at the sky/stars through the window.

🥀 What figure from Rook’s personal past would be added to the regret prison?

Iseri, because Makié feels that if they'd just explained better then maybe Iseri would have listened and would still be alive.

🪷 Does your Rook have an irrational phobia? (ie spiders or large man-made objects submerged underwater)

It's not so much irrational as it's due to the joy that is Crow training, but they are severely claustrophobic. Even clothes that are too snug cause them issues at times, and tight hugs are rarely accepted.

🍀 Has Rook had any near-death experiences? What went through their mind during what they thought was going to be their final moments? 💐 What is the relationship Rook has with their faction mentor? What was the moment they sent Rook away like?

They nearly died at 8 1/2. Their last thought as they lost consciousness was "Ir abelas, Mamae."(I'm sorry, Mother). Makié and Viago argue a lot due to Makiés' impulsivity and Viago's overprotectiveness. Viago should just make a stamp that says 'Actions have consequences' and bonk Makié on the forehead with it during every argument where Makié responds with 'But it worked!' just to save himself some time. The moment they were sent away had Viago trying to not let it get to him, and Teia giving him a look as she led Makié away after reassuring them that it was only temporary.

🌺 Is there an object from Rook’s childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food)

They managed to get the person who saved them to take them to where they'd lived to see if their family was there, and when they weren't, Makié retrieved the book on wyverns that their father had gifted them and a thin delicate silver chain of their mothers. When Makié went to the Crows, Dalia kept the items safe for them as fledglings weren't allowed to have belongings.

🌿 Does your Rook have any tattoos? What was the moment when they got them like? If they’re a Crow where is their de Riva brand located? What vallaslin do they have/how did they earn it if they’re Dalish?

Makié has a discrete Antivan Crow tattoo between and just slightly below their breasts, as well as a small crow on the back of their right ankle. They nearly fell asleep as they were getting them(they don't sleep much).

🍂 What was it like the first time Rook killed someone? How did they react afterwards?

They were 8 1/2, it was an act of despair and rage followed by loss of consciousness. Upon waking, Makié was angry that the last two had gotten away.

Woe! Rook ask game be upon ye!

🌻 How old is your Rook? How do they feel about celebrating their birthday? What gift has meant the most to them? 🪻 What is the most painful injury your Rook has received? How has it affected them once it healed/scarred? 🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved? 🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard? �� If there was a demon trying to trap/take over Rook, what kind would be the most successful? What would break their hold? 🌱 Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end? 🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say? 🌷If Rook needed to get away from their responsibilities for a moment, where would they go? Where is their safe space outside the Lighthouse? 🥀 What figure from Rook’s personal past would be added to the regret prison? 🪷 Does your Rook have an irrational phobia? (ie spiders or large man-made objects submerged underwater) 🍀 Has Rook had any near-death experiences? What went through their mind during what they thought was going to be their final moments? 💐 What is the relationship Rook has with their faction mentor? What was the moment they sent Rook away like? 🌺 Is there an object from Rook’s childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food) 🌿 Does your Rook have any tattoos? What was the moment when they got them like? If they’re a Crow where is their de Riva brand located? What vallaslin do they have/how did they earn it if they’re Dalish? 🍂 What was it like the first time Rook killed someone? How did they react afterwards?

[emwrcte]

𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗟 | Accepting | @hawkc

𝙎𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙮𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧. Too fringe to be Dalish, too Dalish to be a city-elf. Her traditions were old, and simultaneously not traditional enough. She was praised and thanked by the Dalish for granting them land, yet settle in it. She was Elven. Foreign to all but her people who made their home deep within the Hundred Pillars, a relic of an age long past and a people now fractured beyond repair. To all but a few, she is a name in a textbook. Irrelevant after her deeds during the Fifth Blight. Her honorific more than her name or her face; but this suites her just fine.

It has been over a decade since that time, and has felt every hour of her age. Dreams plague her sleep  faces haunt her; the only demons able to assail her soul those which do not exist in the fade. A different kind of blight assaults the people she once was prepared to die for. Bound by solemn oath, she had made her way along worn she had not seen in near eleven years. And that is when she meets the stranger, on the road from Kirkwall. 

He is a mage, like her and also not. Traveling the road in silence, merely going the same direction until nightfall and rain forced their shelter. She opens merely with a question of his origin, and his destination. He gets to the first part, and she pauses. Lothering. She recalls not what it was like when she arrived, but what she found when the horde was done. Her hands stop, unease causing a gentle placement of the kindling next to the embers of flame as the fire became stoked. She does not hear his answer in regards to his destination over the voices that cannot speak yet echo nonetheless in her mind. But his face is unfamiliar to her.

 〞I know of the place. Ir abelas, Shemlen ( I'm sorry, quick child ). 〞Her voice indicates no desire to return, however. Moreover, her speech sets her apart from most southern Dalish instantly, the pronunciation of Elven different entirely. And spoken with different understanding. It is literal; even 'Shemlen' spoken with true intent. The tongue is fluid, and leaves her with grace and ease Common does not. 〞May the Gods rest the souls of her people. You have my deepest prayers. But I must beg your forgiveness, and ask you repeat yourself. Where was it you said you were destined? The past clouded my mind, for but a moment.  〞

[irlaimsaaralath]

"Oh, my belovèd, have you thought of this:  How in the years to come unscrupulous Time,  More cruel than Death, will tear you from my kiss,  And make you old, and leave me in my prime?" So I was reading Edna St Vincent Millay poems and this one (the whole thing but this part especially) struck me as very Solavellan. I say as someone who hasn't romanced the egg in ages bc I'm still mad at him from my first DAI playthrough

Apologies for this taking so long.

Also, Solas ugly cries.  Sry not sry.

Standing in the courtyard at the base of the stairs into the main hall, the people of Skyhold moved around him as if he were invisible.  In fairness, they were the craftsmen and laborers and had little reason to note him, and he, likewise, had his grey-blue eyes turned to the fortress and paid them no mind.  It had been years since he had stood within Skyhold’s walls, and it was likely he would not have recognized any of the faces even if he had looked.  His easy gait carried him up and through the double doors to the unoccupied hall beyond.  Each step echoed as he made his way to her chambers, and he couldn’t help but think how strange it was to see so massive a space so utterly vacant.  As it ever was, her heraldry hung high on the wall, and her throne sat empty.  They were the only witnesses as he passed through her door.

Along the walkway, his steps were quiet, the sharpness of his sabatons muted by the wood underfoot, and as he topped the short set of steps to her chambers, he didn’t bother to knock.  When he passed through the door, he was immediately assailed by the scent of blackberries and sage – it was her favorite soap.  He paused to breathe her in, filling his lungs and relishing in the tingle it sent across his skin.  When he rounded the top of the stairs, he expected to find her there, but she was nowhere to be seen.  A shard of apprehension shot through him, and his brow fell low.  “Niyera?”  Her answer was prompt:  “On the balcony.”  He thought it curious, but his relief was such that he did not question, simply went to her.  Her back faced him, and her hand rested lightly on the railing.  He noted that her hair was much longer than it had been when last he saw her, even more so than when she joined the Inquisition.  Gone was the braid that held back the strands from her shaved undercut, and instead, her hair was thick and full and swept the small of her back.

“Why have you come, Solas?” she asked, with no malice in her voice, only a calm curiosity.  The air was particularly biting, more so than it seemed it should be, and he stepped toward her, close enough that the pelt over his shoulder brushed the back of her arm.  “I missed you, vhenan,” he replied, and a sharp wind off the mountain teased strands of her hair against his hand.  He shifted closer, settling a hand on her hip as he bowed his head to press his nose into the hair behind her ear.  “We both know that isn’t so, ma lath,” she said, a mirthless chuckle tumbling over her lips.  “It is past time that you were honest with me and with yourself.”  The hand on her hip slid to encircle her waist, and his eyes closed as he pulled her tight against him.  The way he held her, it was as if he was trying to memorize the feel of her body on his – her lines, her warmth, the way they fit just so.  When he spoke, his voice was strained, “I do not know what you mean.  You are never far from my thoughts, vhenan.”  

With gentle fingers, he drew the hair back from her neck and placed the softest kiss just beneath her ear.  He felt as well as heard her sigh.  “Perhaps not, but that is not why you are here,” she said as she turned in his arms and tilted her gaze to his.  Her viridian eyes were dark, but clear as always, though lines now crinkled her skin at the corners.  Around her face, strands of silver mingled with the white, and her pale skin was lined with more scars than he remembered and infinitely more wrinkles.  Regardless, she still stole his breath.  “You know you should not be here,” she continued as she smoothed a hand over the pelt on his shoulder.  “I told you not to return,” she finished, quieter, as her fingers lingered against his neck.  Abashed, he let his eyes stray from hers as he resettled his arms about her waist.  She was right, of course; she always was.  Even when she did not know his name, she knew how to read him.  “Forgive me.  This is the only place I want to be,” he intoned, “I do not know how to stay away.”  She braced a gentle finger on his jawline to turn his face back to hers.  Meeting her eyes, he found sadness, regret, even love, though it was a love left unsatisfied.  Taken for granted.  “You do.  You always have.  There is just something here you can’t find anywhere else,” she accused, her hand having come to rest beneath his chin.  Her thumb eased over the dimple on his chin.

So simple a touch, but it sent a tremor through him, ice under his skin.  Her hand fell to his chest, and she patted his armor in the space over his heart before a light push caused him to withdraw his arms and stand aside.  He watched as she began inside, and only at long last did he speak, “What is that, vhenan?”  On the threshold of the balcony doors, she paused, glancing back at him as she spoke, “Punishment.  But, I am no longer inclined to give it to you.”  His features drew taut as she turned away from him, and though his mouth opened to speak, he managed to say nothing at all.  This is not how he had imagined this would be, how he needed it to be.  Following in her footsteps, he found her before the hearth, her arm wrapped across her stomach.  She said nothing, only stared into the fire, while the flames lit her features in light and shadow.  “I…do not understand,” he finally said as he stepped toward her, and her head canted in his direction.  “Of course you don’t.  You’ve come here expecting to find what you always find:  a shadow,” she said, and while her voice was firm, there was no anger in it.  “But, I am not a shadow, Solas.  I am that which casts it, and I will not allow you to use me for your self-flagellation.”  

His mouth abruptly went dry as his grey-blue eyes widened.  No.  It was not possible.  Before he could move or speak, she was standing before him, with her fingertips on his cheek.  When her touch grazed his brow, his breath hitched in his chest with the flash of images before his mind’s eye.  –  It was their life.  Together.  The years in the Inquisition.  When they’d met, how they’d fallen in love.  All the moments that wove them together like threads, knotted and bound.  How he’d cut those threads, abandoned her even before he left her.  Then the years she had searched for him.  Two sides of the same coin, facing in opposite directions always, but inextricably bound.  How she’d found him, and he’d turned from her yet again, forsaking her love, their love, for a destiny he could not be convinced to abandoned.  How many more years had she searched?  So many.  Until at last she’d found him.  Still more time had passed before he’d relented, and by the time he had made amends, won back her trust, the balance of her life was nearly spent.  The years that had seemed so few to him were a literal lifetime to her.  He’d taken her for granted yet again.  

Anguished and wretched, a broken cry struggled from his lips as she withdrew her hand.  His knees had become too weak to hold him, and so he slid to the floor, knelt at her feet.  “It is actually you,” he said, barely audible.  He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so they rested on his knees.   “I thought…the memory was all I had left of you,” he confessed, face downturned.   An almost bitter chuckle exited her, and she summoned his gaze with light fingertip on his cheek.  “My body was not the only thing left scarred by our love, ma lath,” she said softly, with a voice that was meant to be soothing, but drew tears to his eyes.  He bowed his head, helpless to do otherwise, unable to hold her gaze.   “I am so…sorry, Niyera, vhenan,” he struggled to say through his tears, the weeping that made his shoulders sag and tremble.   “Ar lath ma, above all else.  But, I squandered our time, your life.  If only I could-,” his words were clipped short by her interruption.  “But you can’t.   And it’s time you accepted that,” her fingers were a chill that slipped beneath his chin to lift his face.  

Tears ran silver streaks down his face, that were then glossed a pale green as the Fade began to fray the edges of her form.   “I am so weary, Solas, my Fen’Harel,” and even as she spoke, pale terror washed across his eyes as he lurched up from sitting on his heels.   Under his gaze, the Fade teased tendrils of her essence away from the whole, unraveling her one strand at a time.  “No!” he begged as he clutched at her hand, then her waist, trying to hold her together by sheer will alone.  “Niyera, don’t go!  I can't…”  He felt the weight of her embrace on his shoulders, the press of her lips to the top of his head, and smelled the blackberry-sage scent that haunted her as she haunted him.  “Ir abelas, vhenan,” she whispered, the sound assailing him from all directions as she slipped from his grasp.  “Never doubt that I loved you,” came her voice once more as his arms closed on empty air, and he fell forward, braced on his hands with his head bowed.  The arched line of his back shook with the force of his sobs, and he curled in on himself as the last of her, a rush of white, spiraled away into nothing.   

The pain of his sorrow was physical, and he felt it in every fiber, every sinew of his being.   The culmination of it sat him straight as he threw back his head and howled his grief.  It reverberated across the Fade, rippling out from him to tear through the mist-made walls of Skyhold until he was left kneeling in the center of a vast emptiness, with only fingers of Fade reaching to comfort him.  His eyes fell closed, and he took a deep but trembling breath.  When he opened them again, he was back in the chilly basement storage of Skyhold where the eluvian was housed.  Around him, it was silent and dim and hollow.  Everything was hollow.  The tears he’d shed in the Fade were warm on his cheeks outside of it, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.   He should go before he was discovered, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to move.  So, he folded his arms over his stomach, bent double by his grief, and mourned the loss of the only thing he still held sacred.