#and beresaad proper

[thedaselcor]

Ok I cracked, chapter 1 is up.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59574595/chapters/151940176

Asit tal-eb. The way things are meant to be. Ashkaari Koslun teaches us that the world and the self are one. That it is the choice of every individual whether to act according to their nature and the nature of the world, or oppose the proper order, and struggle against themselves and against the world. As a former slave, Sataareth Issqun knows that a choice made without freedom is nothing but illusion. That the old tools of Mastery, dependent on force and coercion, are corrupting the very soul of the Qun. In the tradition of questions started by the Great Ashkaari, and continued by the Arishok once known as Sten of the Beresaad, she will be the someone who asks how Mastery can be achieved, and listens for the answer. After the incident at the Divine Conclave, Sataareth finds the fate of all the world depends on her Mastery. Anaan esaam Qun--Victory is in The Qun

[lottiesnotebook]

WIP No-Longer-Wednesday

Thanks @heylavellan for the tag! Only going to tag my darling wife @adainesjacket this time on account of it... no longer being Wednesday, but I'm posting my favourite bit of Daughter Phoenix Rise, the fic I am working on to answer questions like:

What was going on in the Qunari enclave in Kirkwall when they weren't invading?

What motivated all those Tal-Vashoth to leave and take up banditry on the Wounded Coast?

Could Inquisitor Adaar's Valo-Kas mercenary troop have anything to do with all this?

This is not the most recent section, but it is my favourite:

There was never meant to be a child in the Kirkwall compound. They had brought no tamassrans, no teachers or child-rearers. Their mission was sacred, vital, but never intended to last years. The Tome of Koslun was too important to have been lost for so long. Failure had never been an option.  

To some among the Karashok, who’s opinions were seldom considered relevant, the birth of the child was an ill-timed reminder that they had been outside the Qun for half a year, trapped in a city of bas who stared and shrieked and quarrelled in their ugly, foreign tongue, repulsive in their disorderly natures. A child, so soft, so malleable, could only become ill-formed in such a place as this, without guiding hands to shape it. Perhaps it should not have been born at all, but for the ranks of its sires – the child of two Karasten was too uncommon a thing to be discarded for an accident of geography, and besides, they would find the thief and return to Par Vollen long before it was old enough to be educated.  But the thief was not found, and in Kirkwall the Beresaad remained, and the child- the child remained with them, cared for by those few viddathari who had had children of their own before they had joined the Qun. It was not truly proper – they had still been assigned as soldiers, cooks, or administrators, not trained as tamassrans – but it was all they had, and it would suffice for an infant. 

[atypicalacademic]

Kith

(A/N: Though her parents and kin have left Seheron due to the war making them fear for their lives, Jabeen Adaar and her Valo-Kas grew up in a community in Free Marches who still abide by the teachings of the Qun as best as they can. As such, they consider themselves Qunari, rather than Tal-Vashoth. Hesra Adaar belongs to @greyvvardenfell)

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: all the npcs are fuckin racist to qunari man it pissed me off

*

The Rivaini say that Qunari have a certain kindness to them, or at least a conspicuous lack of cruelty. -From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi.

*

Haven was a war Jabeen waged alone.

Pressing with both hands to calm her aching temples, she had prepared herself the quiet armour that she wore beneath her vitaar. The solid, tired resilience she grew like second skin, of gritting her teeth and straightening her back when they demanded that she bow her head, shrink herself, hide her horns instead.

She steeled herself with a steady breath, chanting enough of what her Tama had taught her to drown out what would begin with the morning, from the subtle flinch of the quartermaster to an arched brow of surprise at the War Table when she let her voice carry more than they wished it to.

Val Royeaux still twisted like knives between her ribs, every word hurled across the cobbled streets gathering dirt in the grooves of her plates, stains clinging even when she washed her hair and her palms again and again and again until they froze and shrivelled.

"That horned thing was drenched in the Divine's blood."

Maraas kata.

"We don't back away from you oxmen."

Maraas shokra.

"I didn't expect you to be-"

Anaan esaam qun.

*

They arrived at dawn, before the first rays of burning sunrise made its way through Jabeen's window, burnishing the wooden cabin, and drawing her from an exhausted slumber.

They arrived with their heads lifted, their weapons strapped to their back, scarred skin streaked with vitaar beneath the coat of another layer against the cold.

Lost in her effort to scan through the crowd for a safe place to stand, Jabeen would have mistaken Hesra's snowy curls for snow itself, or an apparition cast from her own hunger and homesickness. Had Hesra not turned, tentatively, always startled by a gaze upon her, even one so familiar.

Had Dilrosh not followed, pushing through the small crowd gathered to whisper about them, striding through the space between them, his staff clutched in his hand.

Then the rest, Mehak with her bow, Geetar with his sword and shield, Behar with her spear planted like a flag in the ankle-deep snow.

And just so, the cruel, cold grip of despondency shattered like thin ice.

She was alive again.

*

"Shanedan, Sataareth. You look like you've seen a ghost." Dilrosh smiled at her, and rolled his eyes when Jabeen touched his shoulder to make sure he wouldn't vanish into mist.

Sataareth. That was the title they had given her. Who she was. Enforcer, not merely in strength but their rallying cry- their refuge from harm and the home of all their homes.

She looked past him at Hesra, who stood a pace away, half-hiding behind Geetar, who was the only one tall enough to shield her. Other than Jabeen herself.

"Are you alright, kadan?" Jabeen's voice was thick with tears she hadn't let fall. "I worried so much for you."

She was rewarded with a tentative smile and a nod. It warmed her twice-frozen heart as sure as Hesra's healing hands.

Who she was. Trusted. Prized.

"Ah, here we are." Geetar cut her off before she could press further. "Playing favorites with the mages again."

Jabeen sniffed, with a shaky smile, reaching up to tug his ear. "I do not play favourites."

"Hey, the Templars would've taken me, as well." Dilrosh summoned a small flame to his fingertips.

Jabeen's face fell, and her lip trembled. "Don't even joke about it. I would've lost all of you."

It was the sickening terror she'd opened her eyes to in that horrid dark cell, overtaking any thought of her own fate, or even the damned tear in her hand. It was the first phrase that rose to her lips when she could summon her voice speak to the Seeker. A demand, a threat, knowing full well what demands and threats would inflict upon her at the hands of humans. "Where are the Valo-Kas? What did you do to them?"

Dilrosh winced, instantly setting his magic aside to lay both hands on her shoulder. "Jabeen, no. We're fine. No injury our Hesra couldn't patch up." His eyes glazed over with a pain that mirrored hers. "We were so scared we lost you."

Who she was. To her kin, she could not be lost.

Jabeen steadied herself, meeting their eyes in turn. "You haven't."

"Don't we know it." Mehak relaxed, though behind her, Hesra's brows were furrowed in concern. "We knew you wouldn't abandon us, Sataareth."

"I should've never accepted this. This job endangered all of you. I should've-"

"Sataareth." Behar rolled her eyes. "We're not scared of humans."

"I know, but-"

"The sky's torn open. Where d'you think is safer than at the side of the woman who can close it?" Geetar set aside his shield. "Sataareth kadan hass-toh issala ebasit. You are kadan to us, and there is no duty for us away from you."

"So you'll...stay?"

"What did he just say?" Mehak teased. "Besides, I hear the Bull's Chargers were asking after this- Inquisition. If they chip in, and we don't? You won't let us be shown up by competition, would you?"

Jabeen sighed fondly, relaxing into Dilrosh's open arms, then kissing Mehak on the cheek. Relief washed over her like water, running her clean of bleeding wounds swifter than a stream, leaving only fading scars in their wake.

*

Hesra ran a careful eye over her, looking for injuries she'd neglected out of habit. The question in that look was silent, but Jabeen knew they all waited for an answer.

"It's..the usual."

Dilrosh's jaw clenched, and Behar's hand flew to her spear.

Jabeen shrugged. She had taught them by example to never hide their pain. "At best, they treat me like eight feet of muscle and a pair of horns they can't do without. At worst..." Her gaze slid to Hesra, whose frown deepened, her eyes gentled with an old sadness. "Well. You know."

Mehak touched the base of her own broken horn, then tucked a strand of Jabeen's hair behind her ear.

They did. How it burns her, how it saves her, that they did.

*

"You would..." Cassandra blinked, sharing a glance with the Commander looming behind her. "Have them stay?"

Jabeen clenched her fists by her sides. "Yes."

"They are an impressive force, Cassandra." Leliana ventured a smile. "Why do you think I hired them for the Conclave in the first place?"

"We will need to consider it."

"Consider all you like." Jabeen straightened to her full height, the tip of her black horns glinting in the morning sun, flanked by her company who had fallen to place behind her. "But know this." She held up her hand, a flash of glowing green to remind them of what they stand to lose. "Where my kith go, I follow."

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath. "I...see."

"Do you?"

Jabeen levelled her gaze at Cassandra, who held her silence for a moment more, and nodded.

*

Hesra's voice carried no higher than the breeze, but reached inward as a tree to its roots, and she smiled as Jabeen joined in, murmuring words they always had to stave off cold and fear and loneliness, the pain of battle and the wounds of all the world.

"Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun."

[baejax-the-great]

DAO Members: Ranked by Quality of Hugs

1. Alistair. 10/10. Big arms, big chest, desperately lonely and eager to please. Want a longer hug? He’ll do it. Want him to pick you up a little? Done. Harder? Softer? Shorter? More frequent? Less frequent? He’s your man. 

1. Zevran. 10/10. Maker’s breath, he smells amazing. And those arms! The question isn’t whether he’s good at hugging, the question is why you ever bother spending time not hugging him. 

1. Leliana. 10/10. Always ready to comfort you and pick you up when you are down. Her tender arms and sweet voice will lull you into a sense of peace after a long day. 

4. Wynne. 8/10. Reminds you of hugging your grandmother. Tender, heartfelt, maybe slightly judgmental about your life choices. How she indicates that with a hug you will never know, but you’ll go back for more.

5. Dog. 5/10. Points off for the lack of proper shoulders. He’s very patient, though, if a little stinky, and always ready to receive a hug. Just make sure to wash the slobber off after.

6. Sten. 4/10 You have to explain to him what a hug is and then… he still won’t give you one. Not yet. No, not yet, either. Look he just doesn’t see the point. Yes, other Qunari give hugs, but he’s a soldier of the Beresaad and—oh look, he’s hugging you! Just don’t tell Leliana.

7. Morrigan. 3/10 If you ask her for a hug, she might acquiesce, but she won’t hug you back and her necklaces will prick you uncomfortably. Afterwards if you are really stealthy you might see her smile to herself.

8. Oghren. 2/10 His hugging form is fine, and he even has some enthusiasm for it, but he smells like a wet mabari who rolled in something. Leaves you wanting a shower.

9. Shale. 0/10. I asked Shale for a hug and now I’m dead.

~~~

Inquisition Hugs ~ DA2 Hugs

[nehraa-asaaranda]

gayrett-hawke​:

“What, expecting something a bit more violent?” Hawke chuckled. “No, we’ve got the Gallows and Darktown for that.” He frowned for a moment in thought before continuing, “And I wouldn’t trust anything offered to me in either of those places.”

At Asaaranda’s question, Hawke glanced down at his mug. “Every day’s an off day for the drinks around here. But hey, it’s cheap and consumable, so I guess I can’t complain too much. Kirkwall doesn’t have much to offer when it comes to alcohol. Maker forbid this city produced anything to provide its people with joy and entertainment.” If it weren’t for his friends, he might’ve given into the misery of this place himself. Especially now that his brother wasn’t around…

Shaking his head, Hawke joked, “I’ve been called worse things than a drunkard, don’t you worry.” He actually had spent a fair amount of time here and at The Blooming Rose during his first year in Kirkwall. It had made the sudden changes and emptiness more tolerable. Now, his reasons for visiting the tavern were different, though. “I do tend to use this place as a sort of gathering spot for my friends, yes,” he replied. “Two of them already have rooms here, so it makes things convenient.”

When his new acquaintance began to worry about being too inquisitive, he quickly attempted to ease her mind. “No, no, question away,” he insisted. “I’m always up for some good conversation. And the job’s a simple matter, really. I just have some business along the Wounded Coast, and I was wondering if you might accompany me?”

“I’ll have to see if I can find some proper maraas-lok for you then. Kirkwall might not have the best options but the craftsmen of the qun don’t slack when it comes to spirits.” The beresaad did trade with people outside the qun, if she could just talk to the right people without the wrong people catching wind of her. It was possible but perhaps tricky. She could ask for help, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. “After that we’ll just have to make our own entertainment.”

Her eyebrows raise slightly at the knowledge that people choose to live here for “convenience”. A communal space that some held so dearly they made it their home, perhaps it was touching. Best to overlook the probable desperation for comradery that was likely brought on by previous struggles. 

“Business on the wounded coast then. What kind of business do you wish for me to accompany you for? Do you need me to just stand there and be intimidating or do I need to hit stuff?” Her head tilted and she leaned in as she asked. It was difficult enough to get work in this area so she was used to those being her two options when it came to job offers.

“I mean, either way I accept. I already brought my axe.” She stated, as if she didn’t already bring her axe with her everywhere. She started to shift impatiently in her seat, getting out of the city for a moment sounded too enticing. She was ready to leave as soon as Hawke said the word.