#and eventually draw to mythal

[scribeofmorpheus]

The quote above is so good, and so poignant for Solas and the concept of ruthlessness, but omg I did not expect to see FUCKING ANIMORPHS!? on my dash in the morning.

This is like that weird effect of remembering that "Do you think God stays in heaven because he too lives in fear of what he's created" is a quote from SPY KIDS 2!

Woobification of Solas.

This is a fandom critical post. Proceed at your own risk.

Let me start this piece off by saying that this post is not meant to target a specific demographic of the fandom. If you feel targeted, that’s on you. 

In this essay, I want to talk about the infantilization, woobification, or just good plain headcanoning the bad out of Solas. Mostly it comes down to a few of the most regurgitated lines of thinking: he is a spirit of wisdom despite everything he does or has done and he is just confused and perverted from his natural state, Solas is his true self while Fen’Harel or The Dread Wolf are just select masks he wears. The sentiment is so strong that at points it comes down to disregarding or ‘uncanoning’ the entire storyline of The Veilguard because in the minds of individuals that follow this school of thought it does injustice to the character of Solas they have created in their minds. In their minds, it is bad writing to show Solas being a prideful, treacherous liar. 

Because the man, who led rebellion for centuries using dubious means, using creatures he claims to respect as if they are expandable, killing his closest confidant because he dared to oppose him outright somehow is a paragon of virtue that is just bent out of shape by his misguided loyalty. All the atrocities he has committed through thousands of years he had a physical form comes down to him being manipulated and emotionally abused by his former closest friend Mythal and later by grief and anger of losing her. Slapping the label of emotional distress and trauma on a perpetrator of … well, quite literally, war crimes, does make them more palatable, but it does not mean it should be seen as a normal practice. The acts Solas commits during the war with Titans, his rebellion against the Evanuris, and later on in current day Thedas are being construed as desperate actions of a broken man, wisdom twisted from his purpose and left to fend for himself, despite his self-induced isolation. So let me ask you this: how many acts of desperation does it take to realize that they are becoming choices? 

Yes, he was manipulated through their shared emotional bonds by Mythal. Yes, he was coerced to leave his spirit form in favor of a physical body. Then Mythal used his wisdom as a weapon, warping him against his own beliefs, making him participate in the war in ways he did not wish to. Yes, he was pushed by Evanuris’ cruelty to rebel and then lost what he perceived as his only friend to their arrogant ways and later had to live through her death by their hands. He was broken to the point he could not see a way out and doomed the entire way of Elven existence just to win the fight against the cruel and the unjust. Yes, he is a man who lost his people and his version of the world due to his own actions. He is a traumatized, sad, lonely man, who has predetermined himself to the path from which he cannot see a way back. And yet, many of the steps he took along the way cannot be downplayed as acts of a spirit of Wisdom that was bent out of shape by grief and desperation. Destroying the Titans and leaving their children orphaned is seen as an act of devotion and unconditional love towards his manipulator, Mythal. But as the world’s best detective, Jake Peralta has once said: “Cool motive. Still a murder.”

And now we arrive at the most beloved sentiment. Solas is his true self. Fen’Harel is just a mask. Oh, boy.

Everyone says that they hate one-dimensional characters until they are served a multifaceted one on the platter. Then they get to declawing and defanging them, ripping their personality apart into this and that, robbing them of parts of them that make them whole, and when that is not enough, they take on dulling off any edges they might find too abrasive. Assassination of the character is just the beginning; the remains have to be sanitized and scrubbed off any wrongdoing whatsoever, so supporting them doesn’t seem like a moral failing on fandom’s part. 

Cutting Solas and Fen’Harel apart as if they are some conjoined twins, where Fen’Harel is the evil one, is stripping Solas of things that are inherent parts of his character for the sake of feeling more comfortable with his actions. Solas is kind, caring, and wise. Fen’Harel is prideful, scheming, and treacherous. These two sides of him are now separated by their representation in the Inquisition and Veilguard. In Inquisition, he is Solas - a thoughtful mage obsessed with dreams, a soft-spoken man keen on sharing his knowledge. Except for the part where he doesn’t see current Thedosians as real people. Where everyone is tranquil in his eyes and thus, lesser. People, who he is willing to sacrifice to achieve his goals. The thoughtful things he said by the end of the road to the Inquisitor he supposedly cared for:

“I will do what I must, but there is no benefit in allowing harm to come to innocents before it's necessary.”

“I will save the Elven people, even if it means this world must die.”

“As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time... the world of the elves.”

And then he mutilated them. Yes, he did it to save their life. But the Inquisitor had no choice in the matter. What if my Inquisitor would have rather died than lost their arm? Doesn’t matter, because our thoughtful, kind apostate knows better. A kind apostate who sacrificed his world to avenge Mythal, but then by the time of the Inquisition killed her all over again. For power, of all things. And then he stripped the dignity of the one who carried what remained of Mythal through ages by depicting her as an elf, proving once again that he does not see current Thedosians, humans, as real. 

The most egregious crime of Solas’ portrayal in Veilguard seems to be painting him as a liar. Because in the Inquisition he didn’t lie. He just avoided telling the truth. He shaded it in a comfortable tale that no one would question. He spun the narrative. Solas made himself appear as an apostate mage who has gained all his knowledge from the Fade. He crumbled just enough truth without revealing his hand. Or simply said he was lying by omission. Luckily to him, no one would ever ask a random mage if, by chance, they are the infamous Fen’Harel, so he doesn’t need to lie outright. 

And what did he do in Veilguard while not being his true self and wearing that mask of Fen’Harel, that degree of separation from his true, kind self and the trickster god? He spun the narrative. He said just enough truth to be believed. He was deceitful. Solas can be caught saying one outright lie—“I abhor blood magic.” Oh, wait. He can be caught lying exactly one time in Inquisition too—if you confront him about missing court intrigue. So much for a completely different man in Veilguard. 

Fen’Harel as a mask is such a beloved statement that it disregards thousands of years of his life. “I was Solas first. Fen'harel came later, an insult I took as a badge of pride.” A badge of pride Felassan used to flock followers to his side. Badge of pride he wore all through his rebellion. The one he tried to reclaim once meeting Dalish of the current day Thedas. One he used to amass following during the events of Trespasser. How many millennia can a person willingly wear a mask and not have it be a part of who they are?

And then we end up here, where somehow the portrayal of Solas in certain parts of fandom becomes an eerily similar story to that of Portrait of Dorian Grey. We have this beautiful, virtuous man, who’s telling you the most fascinating stories of the Fade, lulling you with his kind voice and beautiful eyes. One who was manipulated, traumatized, desperate, and pushed to act against his good nature. One who would tear down the Veil to restore what was lost and make the world right again. An idealist, working towards his goal. Damned be the sacrifices it requires. Because being hurt in some minds absolves people of guilt. Some agree with his goals and damn his ugly side to the attic. The one who manipulated, one who deceived and killed. One who has the blood of countless lives on his hands. One has to exist for the other to reach that goal. One who is just as much part of his true self as the other. 

Solas is Fen’Harel. Fen’Harel is Solas. One could not exist without the other. And to love someone truly, we must accept the good, the bad, and the ugly. Because to be loved is to be seen fully. Loving a villain is not a moral failing. And yes, he is a villain. Doing something horrible for the sake of something good is still, at the core, doing something horrible. 

Love him because of the awful things he did and in spite of them.

[pinacoladamatata]

transcribing some codex letters.... Spoilers, obviously.

all the letters i've found from Felassan (not counting the ones that actually save in the codex, these are the ones found around the crossroads.) bc i want the text easy to copy for reasons

An Unknown Artifact

What are the Crossroads doing? "The spirits of the Crossroads do as they must, Felassan. As do we all." Thank you, Solas. That's incredibly useful. Really helps your old friend pull together a rebellion against the Evanuris. -Felassan

The Blighted Tree

This is a holy place. The tree draws strength from the earth, just as the first elves did. Some younger elves grow trees in the cities to honor their ancestors. Roots have a tendency to dig down and gnarl up, then twist around things they aren't supposed to, though. Hoping that metaphor doesn't stick. -Felassan

The Cathedral of roots

When we first started, this was a safe place for spirits who joined our cause to find peace from the stress of battle. Now… I don't know. Not a lot of spirits use it any longer. Have they grown stronger, or has the fight against the Evanuris made demons of us all? -Felassan

Mirrors upon Mirrors

This place is amazing. June's normal eluvians function with twinned lyrium fragments. One always leads to another. Solas somehow talked the crossroads into making Fade-eluvians that override them. His own network to run our rebellion. Provided you ignore all the old stories about holding mirror up to mirrors and getting caught in the infinite reflections. -Felassan

A refuge for Mythal

Solas always thought Mythal would join us eventually, that she was better than the rest of the Evanuris. He made this place so she'd be comfortable here once she joined the rebellion. Now it's too late. Solas has sealed this place off out of grief. He won't let me in. I'm sorry, my friend. There was something left for the war to take from you after all. -Felassan

Calm before the storm

I come here sometimes when I need to be myself. Not Solas's friend Felassan. Not the slow arrow of the rebellion. Just me. He hasn't been right since what happened with Mythal. He's planning something with the dagger. And if it were a good idea, he'd have told me. Damn it, Solas. I'm with you as long as we're protecting the innocent from the powerful, but you make it hard sometimes. -Felassan

The Empty Forest

This place used to be full of spirits who flocked to Solas's cause. When his ritual went wrong- when everything went wrong- he vanished, and the spirits stopped coming. Where are you, my friend? You stopped the Evanuris, but broke the world. Please tell me you didn't leave me to fix all this alone. -Felassan

[dalishious]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard – Release Date Trailer Analysis

I’ve finally put my thoughts down into a (mostly) coherent form! Let’s talk about that trailer, of which there is a LOT to talk about…

The Black City?

We know from Game Informer that Solas's ritual was attempting to bind the Evanuris to a new prison, because the one he had previously constructed was failing. However, because of Rook's intervening, Solas is now trapped in the Fade, and Rook's blood is now connected to the Fade. If Solas is trapped in the Fade, perhaps it is the prison he built in which he is contained to.

Now, many people believe that the Black City – previously the Golden City – is this prison. I’m personally resistant to this, simply because this theory stems from fans drawing connections between lore about the Maker and lore about the Creators, which leaves a bad taste in my mouth. (Because of the differences in how those beliefs have been treated in the franchise’s writing. The beliefs of in-universe settlers is constantly given the benefit of the doubt, while the beliefs of in-universe Indigneous-coded people are debunked.) However, unfortunately it is looking more and more like this really might be the case. And I’m in an upset stage about this right now, but I’ll try my best to remain hopeful that The Veilguard will steer things in a direction that’s more comfortable?

The Horror of Hormak?

I believe we are going to see a lot of references to Tevinter Nights in this game. This is just the first to appear in the trailer, by my guess. It looks like the elf is being absorbed into this fleshy mound, which is exactly what happened to Jovis in “The Horror of Hormak”. You can see other body parts sticking out of the mound, including one that looks like a darkspawn body. The flesh sacks themselves are reminiscent of signs of the Blight in Dragon Age: Origins, and we know that of the escaped Evanuris, Ghilan’nain is one of them. Ghilan’nain, who is Blighted. Ghilan’nain, whose temple in “The Horror of Hormak” had such magic capabilities of creating monsters from different beings, molding them together.

The Archon’s Palace?

It looks like this floating structure could be the Archon’s palace, based on this description from “Half Up Front” in Tevinter Nights:

“The Archon’s palace filled the Minrathous skyline. Dominated it—it was visible from pretty much anywhere. When you first came to the city, you spent a few weeks admiring it, in awe of it. Eventually, you got used to it, and it became part of the background, like the sun or the clouds.”

So, that means we’re looking at Minrathous. Unless there are other cities with other magic floating structures, which I suppose we can’t rule out. It is Tevinter, after all.

Lyrium Infect Darkspawn?

These darkspawn look like they’ve definitely been infected with red lyrium, given the small ones here resemble the Red Templar shrieks from Dragon Age: Inquisition.

Lace Harding’s Magic?

So, we know from the official website that Lace Harding has discovered she has mysterious magic abilities. In this trailer, we see her turn monsters into stone, and raise a stone wall from the ground… if you recall, this second thing is something that the Sha-Brytol earth shakers could do in Dragon Age: Inquisition’s DLC, The Descent. The Sha-Brytol used lyrium to accomplish this, and when Lace uses her magic, her wounds glow blue… like lyrium, perhaps?

Morrigan & Mythal?

Morrigan appears to be wearing the headdress that Flemeth previously had, from Dragon Age II onwards. In the epilogue of Dragon Age: Inquisition, before Flemeth was killed (?) by Solas, she was doing something with an eluvian. Morrigan always assumed that Flemeth intended to possess her, but it’s entirely plausible that really, Flemeth was going to give her a piece of Mythal. After all, Flemeth says to Morrigan that she was never in danger, because she had to be willing. So, needless to say, I think Morrigan now has Flemeth’s piece of Mythal within her.

The real question is, how the fuck does Morrigan still look like she’s in her 20’s? Shapeshifting, or simply developer refusal to let a woman show age? //eyeroll

Teia & Viago?

I am HOPING. I am PRAYING. That my beloveds from the Tevinter Nights story “Eight Little Talons” play at least a somewhat significant role in the game, because I adore them so much. And it really does look like this might be them!

Magister Zara?

At the end of the Tevinter Nights story “The Wigmaker Job”, there is a brief epilogue featuring a Magister by the name of Zara Renata. She is obsessed with maintaining a perfect appearance, and uses blood magic sourced from her slaves to remove and perceived flaws on her body. It is said that she will is on his target list, but Zara is convinced they can take care of him.

“Freeing Ambrose’s slaves already tells us this Crow has a heart. He will reveal other flaws. And we will exploit every last one of them.”

 My assumption is that this is Zara that Lucanis is fighting.

The Dread Wolf?

In the Tevinter Nights story, “Dread Wolf Take You,” we are told that Solas has a Dread Wolf form. It appears in the Fade as a fiery wolf with wings. While this wolf is not on fire and does not have wings, it does have three eyes on each side, which is the same amount of eyes on Solas’s ending tarot card in Dragon Age: Inquisition. (Also, the same number of eyes as a Pride Demon…)

Irelin?

Irelin first appears in the Tevinter Nights story, “Three Trees to Midnight”. She is a Dalish mage, part of Strife’s clan. In the comic “The Missing”, she is depicted to look strikingly similar to this elf. It could be coincidence, or it could be she’ll play a role in the Veilguard’s plot.

The Dragons in the Dragon Age?

So, I’m still pondering this one… but I think there may be some significance to here being seven dragons shown in the trailer. There are, after all, seven Evanuris, and maybe the connection rests there. Or maybe it’s linked to there being seven Old Gods of Tevinter. Or maybe it’s all connected.

[loredrinker]

Solas and Ghilan'nain - Past Lovers?

I’ve got it stuck in my head that Solas and Ghilan’nain were lovers.

I mean, there’s no direct evidence - but can I find narrative elements to make the case? Sure can!

A few splinters lodged themselves in my mind as I played through the game and remembered some details from Inquisition. These thoughts have only burrowed deeper since then.

Starting with this: 

That’s such a specific thing for Solas to say. It implies he knew her very well. How many late-night conversations or time spent together would it take for him to notice her sensitive nature? And not just notice it, but hold onto it so deeply that he later uses it to try and reach her before she ascends? That feels personal to me.

And his reaction to Ghilan’nain’s use of the Blight to warp creation? It feels like devastation. It’s not just moral outrage - it’s sorrow, disappointment. As though her actions were a betrayal by someone he not only respected but cared for emotionally. Maybe even loved.

The Letters

Then there are their letters - sounding like they were sent long after their relationship would have ended, when Ghilan’nain was preparing for her ascension. They read like a final attempt on Solas’s part to stop someone he once cared for, a last effort to appeal to the person she used to be.

Solas’s letter to Ghilan’nain still has that intimate and familiar tone. It's once again implying that he spent time with her, observing, understanding, talking about her work with her. He's acknowledging her brilliance but questions the morality of her choices. It makes me wonder: did Ghilan’nain ever share her creations with Solas before releasing them into the wild?

In his letter, Solas is warning her, cautioning her against the Evanuris. He’s worried - not only about the consequences of her actions but also about the possibility of having to oppose her himself, as he eventually did with Mythal. There’s even a sense of protectiveness in his words, as though he’s trying to shield her from the political manipulations of the Evanuris.

If Solas and Ghilan’nain were lovers, it would explain why her choices seem to affect him. They don’t just trouble him on a moral level - they hurt him emotionally. He appeals to the Ghilan’nain he knew in their private moments, urging her to use her talents for the good of “our people”.

And the reference of Andruil brings to mind the tale from The Masked Empire - Fen'Harel and the Tree, where Felassan recounts Fen’Harel being captured by Andruil for 'hunting the halla without her blessing'. (Solas pursuing Ghilan'nain without Andruil's permission or knowledge).

If Andruil was jealous of a relationship between Ghilan’nain and Solas forming (and possibly forming before even Andruil and Ghilan'nain become lovers), her response might have been to try to seduce Solas herself to drive a wedge between them, or to promise Ghilan’nain support and power to pull her away from him. (Check out this fan theory on this love triangle.)

And Solas inserts a jab: 

"Of course, I know why. I hope you gain peace with Andruil. You would not be the first to sacrifice your morals for love." 

This statement is pretty charged. Is there an undercurrent of jealousy or betrayal here? He’s accusing Ghilan’nain of compromising the very values he once believed defined her - values he would have come to know intimately if they had a relationship.

But could Solas also be reflecting on himself here? Perhaps with Mythal? Or, keeping this focused on Solas and Ghilan’nain, could he be admitting that he might have compromised his own values for Ghilan'nain at some point?

It’s all open to interpretation, but that ambiguity is part of what makes this potential pairing so tantalizing. 

Ghilan’nain’s Response

Ghilan’nain’s letter draws a parallel between them, pointing out that neither of them is among the original, godlike firstborn. Could this shared status as outsiders have drawn them together? There’s something seductive about the idea of two outliers finding common ground in a world ruled by the Evanuris.

Her letter also highlights the philosophical divide that separates them. Solas values restraint and ethics, while Ghilan’nain is captivated by the untapped potential of magic - even if it means crossing moral boundaries. Going against the values he thought she held.

And then, she jabs back:

“She supports me, always, in everything.”

It feels like a veiled accusation: Why didn’t you support me the way Andruil does? Perhaps she expected Solas to stand by her as she pursued her evolution, but instead, she finds herself defending her decisions against his judgment. There’s a passive-aggressive edge to her words, reminiscent of Mythal.

Yet, beneath this letter there feels a hint of regret. She shows Solas a lingering connection to her past - maybe even sorrow for the person she used to be.

“At the bottom of the letter is the stamp of a stylized halla head.”

Maybe this is her version of drawing a heart at the end of a letter. Whether intentional or not, it feels significant. Perhaps a reminder of what she once was or a soft plea to Solas: Remember this part of me.

Inquisition Evidence 

When I started looking to see if others shared my thoughts on Solas and Ghilan’nain, I was pleasantly surprised to find that some definitely did - going back to 2018. One fantastic thread started by @liaragaming was a lot of fun to read. It dives into various moments in Inquisition that could be hints to a deeper relationship between the two. I encourage you to read through it.

One thing in particular it mentions is a codex that also caught my attention when I began researching connections between Solas and Ghilan’nain.  

Pride - capital P.

Ghilan’nain was killing countless beasts for Andruil, but if Pride is Solas, then he stops her - at least to save some of the beasts - and she listens to him. At one point, he held influence over her.

If they were lovers, Solas would have done everything in his power to urge her to resist total submission to the Evanuris, seeing their demands as acts of tyranny and control. But, by convincing her to defy them, even in a small way, he might have unknowingly set in motion tensions between Andruil and Ghilan’nain - tensions that could have ultimately unraveled the bond between Solas and Ghilan’nain as well. Tensions that could have led Andruil to discover that Solas and Ghilan'nain were bumping bits.

What I love about this is how it serves as yet another example of Solas overstepping his bounds with the Evanuris, challenging their authority.

But there are other juicy teases in this thread worth highlighting.

“I know that mistake, to carve the angles of her face from memory.”

What if that line might actually refer to Ghilan’nain - and a betrayal. 

In that same thread, @mrs-gauche points to an ancient elven codex in Inquisition, that talks about a crime of high treason.

When I read the codex, it feels like it’s referencing Solas taking shape as the Dread Wolf. Ghilan’nain urged him on - encouraged him, maybe even helped him. As a creator of monsters, what if they combined their powers to enable him to shapeshift? If Solas once held enough influence with her that she listened to him, it’s possible he also confided in her about his mistrust of the Evanuris, possibly even early ideas for rebellion against them. Perhaps this “shape” was even her idea, a contribution to his cause. However it happened, it’s clear Elgar’nan was furious that Solas dared to wield a power reserved for the gods.

Now, the phrase “the sinner belongs to Dirthamen” is more complex, especially when considering how language evolves and meaning can be lost over time. It could imply that the sinner (Solas) was an ally or had ties to Dirthamen - perhaps someone Dirthamen valued or sought to defend. This would align with Dirthamen’s association with knowledge and secrets, suggesting that the sinner’s actions might have carried hidden truths that others misunderstood.

Alternatively, it might signify a rite of judgment, where Dirthamen acted as an arbiter, evaluating the sinner’s deeds before passing him to Mythal or Elgar’nan for final judgment.

If Solas is the sinner, Ghilan’nain urging him to take this form may have brought punishment down on her as well. Or, in a bid to save herself, perhaps she betrayed him - revealing this new power to Andruil, or even exposing his early plans of rebellion - who in turn delivered it to Elgar’nan.

And Mythal? If Solas looked to her for protection and she refused? Was this supposed protector of the people acting out of jealousy? A personal rift? Or was she taking her role as an Evanuris so seriously that she believed no one - not even Solas - was above the law?

Yeah ok, I could be reading too much into it, but I'm having fun.

And as I posted yesterday, I’m currently fixated with this Solas dialogue: 

“I have joined my share of causes. But when I offered lessons learned in the Fade, I was derided by my enemies… and sometimes by my allies. Liar. Fool. Madman. There are endless ways to say someone isn’t worth listening to. Over time, it grinds away at you.”

How many betrayals did Solas endure from those closest to him? 

Final Thoughts 

Thematically, the idea of them being lovers could work.

We’re told she was quite the beauty: 

“She was very beautiful - with hair of snowy white - and as graceful as a gazelle.” 

And let’s not forget that Solas is an artist (I’m never letting go of the fact that he paints, composes music, and plays multiple instruments - he is sensualllll). It’s logical that he’d be drawn to her creativity and beauty. Wisdom alone would naturally be drawn to her creativity. 

And as a creator, Ghilan’nain is also an artist, she brought life into existence. Solas might have been captivated by her ability to shape and redefine the world. Her creativity and artistry could have inspired him, while his wisdom and philosophical insights might have deeply resonated with her. Such collaboration could easily have blossomed into something more intimate. 

This is why I’m dying to know more about Solas’s life during this time. We don’t even know half of what he was part of or what he endured. Could you imagine his absolute horror at seeing Ghilan’nain’s shape twisted by the Blight, her descent into madness, and the cruelty she unleashed - all while knowing he couldn’t stop it?

It might all be a stretch, but it’s such deliciously tragic food for thought. Not only did Solas lose Mythal, but Ghilan’nain too.

And when he says to a romanced Inquisitor, “It’s been so long since I could trust someone,” well, no shit.

Well, it's settled - this is officially part of my headcanon now.  

[broodwoof]

solrookvellan and past solythal : daw aldwir, nessa lavellan, and solas are all together and he visits the lighthouse where daw (and eventually nessa) live. right now he's alone with daw talking about his past with mythal.

"It looked like..." Daw trailed off with a frown, and Solas drew the back of his fingers across their cheek. Their lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile, but it never quite made it. "It looked bad, Solas."

"What did?" There were too many things they could be mentioning. Too many guilts he bore. His only uncertainty was in which.

"Mythal." Daw's voice was quiet, soft, more an admission than an answer, and he blinked. His hand fell from their cheek.

"I... that is..." he cleared his throat unnecessarily, straightening from where he'd been reclined. "I turned against her. It was difficult." He laid his hands palm-up and open in his lap, looking at them instead of meeting Daw's eyes. "I regret it." He scoffed, a bitter sound. "One of many things I regret. But I could not stand beside her, not then."

"That wasn't what I meant." Now he was the one who frowned and met their eyes. They looked genuinely surprised. "At all."

"What, then?"

"It looked bad. From her." Daw shifted, drew a little closer, their legs tucked under them. "She asked you to take form. You didn't want to, but you did. Then she asked you to make the dagger. You didn't want to, but you did. Then she-"

"Please," he interrupted, hands turned and digging into his own legs now. "Please. I understand." It was a curious thing, this. For all that he never would have expected anything that had grown between him and Rook, he certainly never expected them to place him in the role of victim to the woman he'd loved. "You must understand. The murals, they show my regrets. They do not show the fullness of my life. They do not show all we were to each other." He sighed, looking away. "Tell me, Rook. Do you have regrets?"

"Of course." The answer came quickly. Too quickly.

"About people you care for? And who care for you?"

"... yeah."

"And if I were to be shown only those regrets, devoid of context... what conclusions might I draw?"

"Oh." They shifted, and he knew them well enough to recognize their discomfort. "Okay, yeah. I get that."

"I will deny none of what you saw," he said after a moment. "They are regrets for a reason. But they paint the narrowest view of our relationship, one which spanned countless centuries. You are correct: I did not want to take a body. But she asked, and I agreed. Would you do any less, for the one who means the most to you? Knowing that they truly needed your aid?"

"I mean," they gestured expansively around them, and he smiled. "I think it's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"Quite. But I want you to understand."

"I was worried," they admitted, reaching for his hand. His fingers had relaxed at some point, but the weight of their hand on his was still foreign. He hesitated before turning to meet them, palm-to-palm. "But it was obvious she loved you. The fragment of Mythal I met, I mean." He winced. "Shit. Sorry. This isn't easy, huh?"

"No. No, certainly not easy." He leaned back, squeezing their hand reassuringly. "But you deserve the truth. And it can be given now. I loved her, too. I always will. What we had was real, and it was beautiful." He smiled at the rush of memory. "It is one thing I do not regret."

"Huh." They sounded quizzical and he turned to look at them, arching a brow. "Oh, no, it's nothing. Not really. It's dumb."

"Tell me," he prompted gently.

"I'm maybe..." they were blushing, he noticed. He was uncertain he'd ever seen them blush. "A little jealous? It's ridiculous."

"Need I demonstrate my loyalty to you, now?" He let his voice drop, let it thicken the way they liked, and thrilled at their full-body shiver.

"I mean," they managed, "what's the old saying? Dread Wolf-"

"-take me," he finished, and kissed them.

[onbanksofadragonriver]

Where do the dead go?

Hey, I was overthinking Nevarran customs and I have a death question.

So most Thedosian cultures canonically believe that when a person dies, their soul/spirit crosses the Fade on its journey to 'afterlife' [1] and nobody knows what exactly that means, and the Nevarran Mortalitasi additionally believe that in doing so it displaces a Fade spirit [2]. Making sure such displaced spirits are safely contained and as comfortable as possible, possessing corpses of the dead and doing useful stuff in accordance with their natural leanings is the entire raison d'etre of the Mournwatch.

Emmrich tells Harding that souls ("essence") and spirits are two different things and "a trained mage will never mistake one for the other"[3].

In Veilguard we learn that ancient elves were manifested spirits, practically immortal. When they eventually got tired of the physical reality, they entered uthenera and their spirit returned to roaming the Fade, instead of passing over into some kind of an 'afterlife' [4].

So if friends and family weren't happy with their memories recorded in the Shattered Library or Well of Sorrows, they were always available for a chat, assuming you could find them when entering the Fade in your dreams? This is the type of immortality that Solas wants back? A long life in the mortal plane + eternal continued relationship in the Fade?

After the Veil came up and elves turned mortal, new elven children coming from the material bodies of their material parents with no spirits involved — what animates them? Are souls a side-effect of the Veil?? Did Solas actually create souls as a concept?

That can't be right, because many interesting things can be done with souls that in some cases predate the Veil [5]:

The way Flemeth splits off a piece of her (Mythal's) soul and locks it in an amulet she gives Hawke for resurrection purposes.

When Solas kills Flemeth/Mythal, he draws some of her "essence" into his ritual dagger.

And then some remaining percentage of Mythal's essence speaks to Rook in the Fade. So ancient, immortal Mythal had a soul.

But Mythal herself was a manifested spirit ("Mythal was the spirit which helped Flemeth seek vengeance on her husband in the past.[6]") So spirits have souls?

Archdemons/Old Gods have souls that transfer into the closest living being upon death, unless killed by a Grey Warden. Those used to be High Dragon thralls to the Evanuris, so souls existed as a concept before the Veil.

Why does even Flemeth want to preserve the soul of the Fifth Blight Archdemon Urthemiel? One that, according to Bellanara's research, used to be June's thrall [7]? If the Evanuris created their dragon thralls by splitting a part of their own soul, then that's a bit of June living on in Kieran?

Which then Flemeth/Mythal takes into herself? Why? Are souls less about personhood and more, like, mana bottles? When you've spread your own thin through various resurrection lockets or murder daggers, you boost it with souls of others? Or did Mythal miss June's personhood, his (surely splendid) personality?

As another fun fact, souls can be copied, like, that's apparently how shapeshifting works, you have to learn to copy the creature's soul [5].

Splitting/transferring a soul is also how phylacteries and golems work [5].

And then there's lichdom: "a Mourn Watcher kills the candidate, and after the candidate's death, their soul will be drawn back into their body, instead of moving on to whatever lies beyond [8]" implying the personhood aspect of the soul, and half-liches "who maintain their body by stealing souls" implying the mana-bottle aspect of souls ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So assuming spirits and souls are two different things in a post-Veil world BUT spirits can have souls... Did ancient elves that decided to uthenera themselves back to Fade, roam it as spirits with their souls?

Do current Fade spirits that never manifested in the physical world have souls?

Are souls of the mortals not able to endure in the Fade by themselves, not encased in a spirit? Is that why nowadays they only cross the Fade on their way further, to an 'afterlife'?

Did Solas additionally create an unreachable, unknowable afterlife for the souls when he created the Veil?

And he thinks that by bringing it down, immortality (undying spirits manifesting freely into physical bodies) would be restored AND the souls nested in those spirits would be able to roam the Fade again?

[vivispec]

Hello & Happy Friday! From the 'platonic prompts' list and for Viera and Iloniyen: "I am this close away from strangling you." Happy writing!

With how much they bickered as kids, it was really hard to just choose one scene :') here's Viera and Iloniyn preparing for the ball at the Winter Palace, featuring that godawful Inquisition getup.

@dadrunkwriting Viera & Iloniyn words: 660

“Wipe that smug look off your damn face, before I wipe it off for you.”

Viera lifted her hand to hide the offending expression, but Iloniyn could still see the laughter in her eyes. “I think it suits you,” she managed, barely able to contain the giggle seeping into her voice. “It’s…bold. Very…intriguing.”

“By the Creators, I will strangle you.”

“If you value your own life, I wouldn’t,” she warned, crossing arms clad in white satin up to the elbow, and drawing near. “Vivienne’s attendants spent the better part of an hour on my neck alone, and you should know from the lethallen who wove our plaits as da’len that there’s no wrath like that of an artist scorned.”

His scowl was broken by a scoff. “They powdered your neck?”

“Yes. My neck, and just about every other bare piece of skin on my body. It feels terrible, like I walked through a dust cloud on a dry day, and didn’t bother wiping it off.” She lifted a hand, running it along the blue sash cutting across his chest, stark against the bright red fabric behind it. “At least your tunic looks comfortable. I can barely breathe through all these layers.”

“You’d rather look like some exotic bird?”

“And you’d rather be swarmed by bored shem on the hunt for a little entertainment, courtesy of the Inquisitor’s elusive Shadow?” His ears ran red as his tunic at the suggestion, blinking away with a sour set to his brow—no different from when they were children, and she got the best of him. “I didn’t think so. They’d be no match for your good looks, at their full power. For the sake of the world, I’d much rather spare the both of you.”

“How shall I ever repay you,” he griped through his teeth, and she gave his sash a firm tug. “I can’t even begin to understand why you dragged me here. Barely three months since I left the clan, and you bring me to a ball? Really?” 

“You’ll be able to stomach it for a single evening.”

“This isn’t because I pushed you into the river, is it? Or said you looked like a bogfisher?”

“I need you here, Ilo,” she pressed, white-knuckled against his chest. Then, her fingers relaxed, lifting to smooth the cowlick at his hairline. “You won’t have to speak with anyone, but I’ll be too busy appeasing the nobles to see what’s roiling under the surface—if appeasing them is even something I can hope to do. If you can keep your eyes and ears open, look out for anything amiss…”

“Does Nightingale not have agents for that sort of thing?”

“She does. I don’t.” Her eyes rimmed by severe black, her features framed in gold, she was a far cry from the sun-touched hunter he’d ran the trails with; and yet, her touch at his temple was familiar, the curling of her fingers as she coaxed his stray hairs back into place as recognizable to him as his own. “And they don’t see the same things we do. I trust you, more than myself. Just this once, and I won’t let them dress you in something so garish ever again.”

“Swear it. By the All-Mother.”

Tilting her chin, Viera straightened, her voice growing grave. “In the name of Mythal, the Protector, I do swear to defend Iloniyn Sarethon—the blood at my back, my eyes beyond me—from any and all offending garments.”

Stifling the smirk that thinned his eyes, he chewed on his answer before, eventually, heaving a sigh. “Alright,” he relented, “just make sure, in no uncertain terms, that the tailors know red really isn’t my color. It washes me out.”

“I’ll make it very clear,” she promised, before turning to retrieve her mask, and make for the door. “A burnt orange, maybe, or a nice, neutral black?” 

“Over this monstrosity? I’d take magenta, were it paired just right.”

She snickered, and slipped away. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

[bluewren]

Happy Friday! For DADWC: "Ruins from a devastated city are employed for new ends, their original purposes forgotten (ex. basil planted in funerary urns)" for Merrill/Abelas?

Hello Gin! How you don't mind seeing a old prompt. LOL This is part of a chapter for a Merill/Abelas fic I'm chipping away at.

Pre-relationship banter and gossip.

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 573

---

The two elves followed along the path of the canal, leading to the ports. Merrill admired the speckled jewels as the afternoon sun hits the stream. She had yet to stop staring, bright eyed, at the crystal like water of this city, smiling when seeing the shimmering stars blinking over her reflection. So taken in that she’s carelessly looking further down past her map.

It’s dazzling with its magical shine and mysterious allure, though it’s no surprise that it was magic. Told to her by the first acquaintance she made in this city.

She wanted to sit and study all the impossibilities. Bottling a couple samples and break down the pieces that formed the blood flowing through this living city. It’s not a choice that she’s taken up, however. Sitting on the bank of a river would draw many unwanted eyes.

Merrill learned well that unwanted attention, a younger elf would have not cared when she lazed about in the Viscount’s…

Her face pressed its image onto the top of her map.

“Hmph. That was rather rude.” Merrill looked with furrowed brows. She didn’t find the perpetrator, instead she returned to her map.

“It is your own fault for having your head on the floor.” Abelas said, matter of factly.

He sped up to stay in front of Merrill. She huffed, reluctantly picking her head up. This was the first time she noticed the new staff crossed over his well toned shoulders.

“I must ask, why the staff?” Slightly blushing after she stare too long. “You used have a different weapon.”

“The maul became rather conspicuous. It is more common for mages in your time to wield a staff.”

“Not always, especially after the Rebellion. Lex wields a sword.” Merrill blinked.

“Lex is also a hot headed goat that thinks he’s a dragon.” Abelas snickered.

Merrill giggled, needing to stop herself from tearing the map when she did. “I will tell him you said that.”

“I would not mind.” He carried on with a flippant smirk. “If he is determined to short his life, I will oblige.”

“All of Skyhold will come to watch, but don’t assume I’ll put my coin on you.” She cheekily shook her head. Her eyes again returned to his armor. “How does your new armor feel?”

“I already told you. Better.” Abelas raised his brow.

“That was before you’ve walked in it.” Merrill looked up, wide eyed at the simple response. “How does your armor feel now?”

Abelas sighed, his admission. “It still feels unnatural to have most of it gone. I have carried it for as long as I first knew life.”

“You didn’t need to let it go. We could have found coin elsewhere.”

“No, but it was still my choice to do so.” The choice was his own. “I want to know who I am without Mythal.”

“I’m certain you’ll find your answers eventually. I’ll be with you as long as you need.” They arrived at the fishing port of Val Firmin, two humans guarded the gates. Meriill rubbed her Inquisition signet ring one last time, although she is certain it will let her pass, a bit of good luck does no one harm. “Are you ready?”

“Will we need to pinch our nose as we walk through here?” Already grimacing at the arriving smell, Abelas brought up two fingers to the sides of his nose.

“We might want to.” Merrill nodded, following along. “Yes.”

[blightbear]

Hello there!

What about number 8, 19 and 25 for all (or some of your choice!) of your blorbos? :3

Hi hi!! I’m sorry, I didn’t see this until a little bit ago and it took me forever to think on 19. There’s still a lot I want to chew on with that question haha

I’m going to put 19 and 25 undercut so this isn’t so long

8. How does your character feel about religion?

Ashari:

Ashari is more in the agnostic category. Believes there is some power out there but not necessarily the Maker or the Creators. In her mind, if the Maker was real, he must be some grand comedian for the suffering people live through while others get to live the high life.

Faye:

Andradtian through and through. Now, do they agree with the chantry and their practices? Hell no. They aren’t Sebastian. Faye will pray, sing the chant, do the bare minimum. They still believe but use it to guide themselves, not others.

Mori’na:

It’s…complicated. Before, she’d say she fully believes in the Creators, do all the rituals and participate in all the festivities. She felt a deep connection with keeping that alive. She still has a small altar to pray to. Yet, after Solas, the thing with Flemeth/Mythal, and the events at the well kind of crushed all of that. She wants to believe some form of the Creators still existed, that the elves calling themselves gods were just basing it off of something already there, but in the back of their mind she knows it to not be true.

One thing is true though. Fuck the chantry.

I’m gonna add Cyra for this one too:

Absolutely crazy about it, fully believes in the Maker, Andraste, everything the chantry says. It’s her driving force.

19. What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now?

Ashari:

Ashari fully believed her life could be one of simplicity. Get married, go on the road selling paintings, come back, raise some kids, help Shianni demand better for the Alienage. Simple. This isn’t to say she doesn’t realize the oppression that her people face growing up, it angers her to no end. Ashari just thought the outside world was slightly better, that she could make a living. Obviously, not the case, quickly shattered by the events at the Arl’s estate. Fights tooth and nail to demand respect. Thought that taking in all the responsibility she did at the age of 20 would be easy. Very wrong about that.

Faye:

That their family could survive, live a normal life eventually. That they could protect them, protect everyone. Obviously didn’t happen.

Mori’na:

I mean, going back to the religion question, she does become quite disillusioned by it all. The Creators were a purpose, something to believe and have faith in. Now she doesn’t know what to believe anymore, and all those years the Chantry was chipping away at the psyche only wore on it more. She thought she could make a difference, make the world better for her people and get respect for their faith and values but now she’s just trying to survive.

25. What are their hobbies and interests?

Ashari:

Painting and drawing! Sketching out things helps her find her center and calm down. Of course a lot of the pages became filled with Alistair. Now, paints are rather expensive and hard to come by in the Alienage, but she found means stealing from the market stalls

Faye:

Music. Playing the lute (their mother taught them), writing and singing cheesy ballads. Makes the group cringe but they still love it.

Mori’na:

Studying all things plants and flora, flower pressing, whittling (she’s not the best at it but she tries), and star charting. I don’t talk about the latter one much but she’s looking up at that night sky quite often, and it helps with navigation. Hunter things.

[pupkinpumpkin]

Might as well answer each of the prompts I missed in one big one

Who is your Inquisitor? Give us a basic bio of who they were before they became Inquisitor and any key choices they made during the Inquisition.

Marella Lavellan, two older siblings (whose names I cannot remember at this time) a mom and her father was a city elf who converted

My girl was born to be in STEM (engineering specifically, woulda been a great artificer), forced to be a mage, she loved taking things apart and putting them together as a kid, but when she learned she was a mage at 8, she had to stop. She always felt out of place and pressured by her clan as she grew up, which was only amplified when she fell in love with the Hallakeeper who was a woman, which was a no no in her clan, so they kept it secret. Eventually due to shenanigans, her partner died due to a fire that a rogue templar pushed her in and Lavellan unlocked pyrophobia!

Basically she grew up having to mold herself into the person her clan wanted her to be which messed her up a bit. When she goes to the conclave, becomes the herald, then the Inquisitor, she finally allows herself to be her own person. She falls head first for Cullen, sides with the mages, puts Celene and Briala together, leaves Stroud, lets Morrigan drink from the Well of Sorrows, gets married, and wants to redeem Solas

2. What does your Inquisitor look like? How has their appearance changed between Inquisition and Veilguard?

This is probably the best drawing I've ever done of her.

She accidentally sliced her ear open as a child while she was still trying to make inventions, so her keeper banned her from making them again and told her to focus on her training as The First

Her hair is kinda fluffy, and she prefers to keep it long enough to put in a ponytail, but short enough to where it doesn't require much hair care. I think she lets it grow out during Inquisition, but after Trespasser, she has it cut again. Besides that, she has a few new scars, greying hair, and a few wrinkles, but she hasn't changed much appearance wise

3. What does your inquisitor believe? Has that changed over time?

Lavellan never believed in the Elven Gods or gods in general. She's a logical person and the concept of gods just doesn't click for her, it doesn't make sense, so she just always thought the Elven gods were fake but memorized their stories to fake believing. Over the time in Inquisition, she becomes more secure not believing in any gods, but then Mythal/Flemeth shows up and really fucks her up mentally. Like she has a full on breakdown. It's not great. She kinda comes to the conclusion that maybe the Evanuris were like really powerful spirits and history just sees them as gods, which she reinforces to herself during the Jaws of Hakkon dlc seeing people worship spirits and how powerful their will can be. Then Trespasser happens which fucks her up even more, but she eventually finds it comforting to know that they were just people and she isn't 'broken' for not believing in them this whole time. Her and Sera bond a bit over that.

4. Tell us about your Inquisitor's family. What does family mean to them?

My Lavellan has an older brother, an older sister, a mother, and a late father. Her mother was born into the clan, but her father met her mom while they stayed near a town once and they developed a relationship, eventually leading to her father converting and joining the clan. They had her brother, who is a capable hunter and is bonded to another hunter, and her sister. Her sister also never believed in the Elven gods, and when Lavellan was young, her sister ran away at 14 not being seen again for years. She converted to Andrastianism, married a nice city elf, and her parents disowned her. Anytime the clan visits near her sister's town, Lavellan and her brother will sneak off and visit. Her father died in the fire that killed her partner, which caused her mom to become more religious out of grief which really stressed Lavellan out. There's also a merchant named Corran who is on very good terms with the clan who basically acted like Lavellan's second dad, letting her being a kid while everyone else piled their expectations on her as The First, so she thinks of him as family. I also like to think that a bit after In Your Heart Shall Burn, her sister and husband come to stay in Skyhold and there's a nice reunion between them.

After Trespasser, her and Cullen have 4 kids: Aidan (Warrior), Elnora and Ellana (twins, rogue and mage respectively), and Bunny (rogue, named after original Cole's sister), and, of course, their mabari, who I still have not decided on a name for :3

5. Who are your inquisitor's closest friends (before, during, and/or after DA:I)? Romantic relationships? What draws them together? What do they do together?

Before Inquisition, she didn't have a lot of friends besides Lindiranae, her partner. Once she died, Lavellan kind of cut herself off from everyone and would exchange hellos at he most. During DAI, I think her best friends are probably Dorian, Cassandra, Cole, and Josephine (with Solas and Sera as close seconds).

Cassandra because Lavellan had a big gay crush on her originally which led her to get to know Cassandra better and become very close to her, of course not in the way she originally wanted, but still. They bond out of duty to the people and raise each other up to think about their own happiness for once. Also trashy romance books.

She knows Dorian's gay from minute one and the fact that he's so unwaveringly himself really makes her admire him for being something she could never manage to be. In Dorian's personal quest, there's an option to say that Dorian was very brave for being himself and taking no shit and I really think my Lavellan means that. She hid who she was for so long and being friends with Dorian really helped her walls go down and build her self-confidence. Like, early in the game when you recruit Dorian, I like to think that with everyone else she's very nice and mild-mannered, but whenever she's around Dorian, her real personality comes out which I think confuses some of the companions at first on why she's so different with him, and some see it as them being 'together' but really they both just get each other and their struggles implicitly

With Lavellan being very "I need to put everyone above me and never complain", I think having Cole around would stress her out because he can feel all her hurt she tries so desperately to hide, but she learns that he just wants to help and she often joins him or helps him help others. She eventually gets comfortable enough around him to open up, but I do think she makes him promise to never make her forget anything. Then of course, since I always make Cole human, I like to think she starts playing a more active role in helping him help others since he can no longer make people forget him. Overall I think she sees him as a little brother

I feel like Josie and Lavellan would just vent to each other a lot. They both need to vent so much and they both have had obligations pushed on them since they were young. Josephine's side quest really pulls them together

I didn't know that Cullen potentially opens up a rehab clinic for ex Templars in one of the Trespasser drawings(?), so I think Cullen brings up the idea to Lavellan and she fully supports it. They're probably very busy with the Inquisition, the clinic, and the kids, but I think they like to just cuddle and read together or play chess and tell each other about each other's day. During Inquisition after they start dating, I like to think they have this unspoken competition each day to see who can get the other to blush the most. Not by being inappropriate, but since they both blush real easy, just sweet or sappy pick up lines or trying to do things for each other without the other person knowing.

6. What characters from other Dragon Age games (or other DA media) do you think your Inquisitor would get along with? Does the Inquisitor ever get a chance to meet them?

I think Lavellan would get along great with Alistair, Wynne, Bethany, Isabela, and Calpernia. She gets along great with people who are snarky and sarcastic, but kind and caring, so they all fit. Plus I feel like her and Calpernia would just vibe if Calpernia wasn't Venatori, but, ya know, if you side with the Templars, you get the chance to redeem Calpernia, so I think they'd get along well. She does meet Alistair in Inquisition as the king of Fereldan, but that's more business stuff. I think after Trespasser, Lavellan does meet Isabela from Varric introducing them, and maybe Bethany if she goes and visits the Grey Wardens to see how they're doing.

Quizquisition 6: Journey to Veilguard

Hey you! Yes, you. I have some questions about your Inquisitor from Dragon Age. Because I love learning about people's Inquisitors and sharing about mine too. I'm going to ask open questions about your (yes, yours too!) Inquisitor(s) taking them from their background to possible interactions in Veilguard.

6. What characters from other Dragon Age games (or other DA media) do you think your Inquisitor would get along with? Does the Inquisitor ever get a chance to meet them?

Answer however you want: in fact bullets, fanfic snippets, interviews, art, comics, audio, video, interpretive dance, etc.

Answer as many or few of the prompts as you feel like.

Answer with one or many of your Inquisitors.

Let's hype each other's characters on the way to Veilguard!

If you want to tag it with something searchable, how about #Quizquisition ? Please do tag any spoilers or put them under a cut so no one gets caught unawares.

Previous Prompts: 1: Background, 2: Appearance, 3: Beliefs, 4: Family, 5: Friends

I'll be posting prompts roughly every-other day.

[felassan]

David Gaider on Twitter: "Going through my old DAI files and came across the original plan for a playable post-credits Epilogue... which, due to time constraints, eventually got down-scaled to the post-credits cutscene you saw on release. A lot of the meat here was, I believe, resurrected for Trespasser." [source] "At the time, I was pushing hard for an actual denouement - as opposed to always ending the story so abruptly after the climax. Considering how few players ever get that far, I suppose I can see the argument that it's not exactly a great place to focus resources. I did like where the cutscene ended up, mind you. A nice, Marvel-esque stinger that hinted at story to come. Took the sting out of having yet another story plan go awry... which is simply par for the course for game dev. Writing can always imagine more than we can produce. ;) And in case anyone wonders: no actual work was done on that playable section prior to the cut. You can imagine it being this fully-fleshed out, glorious thing, if you like... but it could just as easily have been half-baked and terrible. The team was fully stretched as it was." [source, two, three]

Some further info from follow-up tweets -

User: "It's a bummer, though I understand the logic. A proper end to cap off the experience can make or break your enjoyment of the full game though, imo" DG: "That was indeed my argument. There's a point where we have to draw the line and finish the story, however, and I'm afraid the original plan was... mmm a mite too big. This was far from the only cut."

User: "WAIT. Am I reading this right… Solas drains Flemeth and then COMMANDS the Well of Sorrows drinker to kill Flemeth?" DG: "I think it was Flemeth who commanded it. I'd have to look through the whole document. It's complicated. Part of why it was eventually cut, probably."

User: "Hold on. We were to kill Flemeth on Flemeth’s command to, possibly, prevent Solas from taking everything? Was passing whatever energy she did to the Eluvian her way of preparing for survival ?" DG: "I don't think it was going to be explained any more than it was in the cutscene you got, tbh."

User: "My WoS Lavellan is SCREAMING rn god please help her in the next game" DG: "Keep in mind that none of this *actually* happened. ;)"

User: "Interesting to see this was envisioned as having adversarial encounters between Solas & Flemeth with the well-drinker being ping-pawned between them. I noticed the Inquisitor lurking off-camera in that cutscene and wondered if they were originally meant to be part of it." DG: "Heh. I'm pretty sure the Inquisitor being placed there in the actual cutscene's level was because a player had to be present *somewhere*. Might be wrong, though." John Epler: "the way the cinematics worked, if you had them firing too far from the player character the engine would try to optimize and cutscenes would start jittering" DG: "Yeah, I thought it was something like that! Thanks, John."

User: "Does this have any link to the fact that there are dialogue audios of Morrigan reacting to solas “absorbing” Mythal in the game files?" DG: "Possibly? I finished writing the epilogue, so it's possible some of it got recorded prior to the cut."

User: "So Morrigan would've finally gotten to kill Flemeth herself, and nobody had to turn into a dragon this time? Also, this clears up what even happened to Flemeth at the end. She's definitely dead. Presumably, the spirit or essence of Mythal and possibly Urthemiel are inside Solas?" User 2: "does it? it can be theorized that flemeth commands the inquisitor/morrigan to kill her so solas wouldn't be able to take all her essence. regardless, in the ending we did get it's not entirely clear what happened. but i doubt she's truly gone. she cheated death before." DG: "And remember that what this stuff points at never actually happened. Whatever becomes of Flemeth in the future is up to the current writing team, and is based only on the cutscene you saw."

Summerfall Studios: "Our creative director davidgaider shares some insight into how Dragon Age: Inquisition's epilogue evolved over production" DG: "You want "evolved over production"? *cracks knuckles* Lemme tell you how we cut Corypheus attacking Skyhold. Now *that's* evolution."

[gwimulchorom]

Myron stays in bed the day after the siege, more in quiet trepidation than the shame her bunkmate felt for losing. 

The last thing she remembers is falling to her knees and then to her side when the adrenaline had finally faded from her, replaced with a now deeply familiar pain and lack of coordination for a body that she could no longer rely on. Whoever had moved her would’ve noticed how light she was- as if she was going to be snapped in a slight breeze. In truth, it would be a reprieve if it happened, really. 

The rest had already gone off for breakfast, and she could hear Haruuc’s voice echoing down the corridor, loudly searching for Milo. Near her, a quiet sigh exited the half-dwarf as he eventually got up too- just as she feels a sharp pain in her ear, a familiar berate and is on her feet, managing a resigned smile in Milo’s direction as it sinks in to him that he was very much seeing double. 

A whirlwind of events followed: Myron being introduced to Muirin’s girlfriend (a high elf named Elia, one she couldn’t quite get a read on but remained politely curious towards) and drinking apricot wine while they both fussed over her about putting on some weight and actually taking better care of herself. In truth, she had forgotten how to properly care for herself, what with her workload between the school and the Wyrmworks keeping her busy enough that she wasn’t particularly inclined to bother. 

What she’d taken away was that a body was a means to an end. She didn’t think of it more as a vessel to hold her soul in, to maneuver and produce mechanical marvels, than anything else. Of course, this was deeply dysphoric behavior, something Myron was gravely aware of but had no means of fixing- after all, her original body had been destroyed, vaporised through a fault in the Mythal, and this was but the “second-best” solution to ensure the Red Wizard could function and be intact. 

It was cruelly funny to her how everything seemed to line up one after another. There was a difference between fighting Muirin in public and simply going along with matters, and the latter seemed so much easier when managing her own form seemed a feat in and by itself. She finishes a lavish breakfast and drinks with the duo (who both said they couldn’t be seen here, something Myron chuckled and took in stride), and when she prepares herself to head out, she finds a warhorse in red and brown drapings, undoubtedly for her. 

Oh, where do we begin; The rubble or our sins? 

She returns for Muirin to take the three dragon eggs from her, but not before Haruuc nearly ruins matters attempting to keep an egg that would simply never hatch into “a good dragon” that he seemed to be looking for. Even then, her mind remained distant, watching Muirin grow into herself with a quiet pride of someone who had enough time apart to finally overcome her own inferiority and jealousy about matters. 

They had different niches, and it seemed inevitable that everyone just vastly preferred Muirin over her, anyway. Abjuration was just a school that seemed universally acceptable across Faerun, whereas Illusion came as redirection and deception, a hollow lack of reality. 

Even Tate’s age-old question bounces off her when it would’ve bothered her 20yo self, when they used to be claws that seem to dig into a complex nurtured from tutors and fellow mages comparing them both constantly as they grew. 

“Why is your sister so good and you’re like this now?” 

She examines her own hands- calloused from hard work drawing diagrams on dragon hide, examining various dragon parts for their viability and cutting them into salvageable components, constantly shattered and mended enchanting with high-levelled magic far beyond the reach for the layman. 

Nobody needed to know her baggage, drowning in grief and despair about Silverymoon and everything she’d lost. 

Not that Muirin didn’t, or the fact that she’d volunteered this to Milo because she very clearly knew she would never speak it on her own terms. They’d taken turns to scry on each other over the years, after all. 

It felt like acid melting in her throat, a cantrip she seemed naturally inclined to, when she wanted to retort that she didn’t ask to die, to be in chronic pain so much she wanted to just give up all the time, and she hadn’t asked to have all the spells she very much knew all locked away through sheer pain of her bones splitting open every time she made a familiar motion for something that she couldn’t attain with her current recovery process. 

She asks herself: what was the point taking out her frustrations on someone who didn’t know better and would never? It wasn’t something that she wished on anyone else, after all. Maybe being a professor did do her some good after all in learning some patience around people. 

“We took very different paths,” her truth slips out, one that remained reservedly resigned as she manages a quiet smile like she had so many secrets within her she had no reason to share, “That’s all there is to it.” 

Myron allows the silence to settle between her and her teammates, victoriously satisfied. She’s comfortable letting it stretch on bringing the stacks of books to Muirin via a Floating Disk (what, they weren’t physically strong, it seemed to make the most sense) and retiring to work on her fang, her first major project since the accident when she’d found it mostly intact and partially embedded in her chest. 

Eventually, Alasker’s Tooth would return to its glory of warding her from the wiles of dragons and allow her to sprout wings, letting her take off in majesty. It could even surpass itself and grant her more, an old friend and foe that seemed to always be with her as if she had just been gifted it. 

For now, it was as broken as she was, and she needed to be patient with it, in a manner she couldn’t seem to apply to herself. She feels the fang writhe in her hand as if alive, sparks flying off its tip when it reacts to familiar magic while she works in one of the studies in Muirin’s house, stirring like a newborn dragon moving around restlessly in its shell. 

Life endured, loathe as she struggled to deny its relentless advance. 

She puts on her binocular spectacles and gets to work in silence, patiently stitching the restored fang together. 

[tarasylnin-lavellan]

Justice's Flight

okay so here is the third episode in the justice arc featuring the half qunari half elf Harel from @w-h-4-t much love lethalan

Taras feet thudded as she ran, heart dead in her chest. You knew better her mind called, you knew how this would end. Foolish child you knew, she gritted her teeth against the painful thoughts. She used everything in the Vir Tanadhal. She ran along stones, swung from branches to break up her track, and forded every stream. She had to ensure that no one could find her, not ever.

Harel and Cole found the track of the Great stag easily enough and took off after Tara. Soon enough they found the site of the "ambush" and stopped. Cole breathed "scattering scared flighty yet flightless fleeing, falling." Harel looked over at the slight young man "mmm that sounds like.... well Tara's very stony. Scared? Ok maybe that is her." Coles eyes widened "mamae I am sorry mamae I....void blackened hate, glass scraping, I don't want to be the beast again, obsidian shards-" Harel cut him off promptly grabbing the boy "hey breathe, boots on the ground, air in your lungs we're trying to find her, breathe you're okay you're here. Cole looked up with his watery eyes at harel "she hurts so much, sharp glass tearing, she is drowning in the dark." His eyes filled with tears at the soul wrenching agony he could feel. Harel stared at the staged site "shems might fall for this one, but in the clan we called it Falon'din's faint. Stage an attack so the pursuer looses interest in your trail. Harel turned and saw the tears on Cole's face "hey, we're going to find, we will light the darkness okay? we wont let her drown. I wont let you drown either, we are going to be okay.

"Clawing creeping darkness....there" he pointed a trembling hand to the southwest. There was nothing to show her passage but Harel had expected that. Any clanfam worth a damn would know how to evade capture. "She really doesn't want to be found" Cole whispered, Harel nodded studying the area. "really does.... I mean I'm pretty good at tracking from when the clan would leave me behind but.... she really wiped herself off the map." "Swiftly spinning, thunder rumbles in the clouds even when it wants to be a flame." Cole stood wanting to help needing to help, Harel muttered pacing the clearing. "Where is she, were would she go," Cole stared at the sky "Move like brother, think like father, faster, go faster safety in seeking danger." Harel stopped at the words "do....wait....do you think you can follow the feeling? trail off the fear like you do?" "find the hurt?" Harel nodded "uh...yes... like feel out the pain like you do and keep following it till we find her?" Cole looked to the southwest "I can try....but it might make me disappear she is hurting so much..." Harel looked that way too "so long as one of us finds her, she gave up everything for that fucking bastard." Harel's eyes glowed a faint green at her words. "But we are not going to let her go, are we Cole?" Cole's eyes grew haunted "bright in the darkness wearing its skin loosely-" "FOCUS! Follow! we wont let anything happen to her, not again never again. You said she was going that way?" Cole nodded. "Then that is where we will go," a soft trumpeting noise cut her off. The inquisitors white hart trotted into the clearing shaking his head in grief huffing. "Oh you poor sweet thing, Tara left you all alone" she patted the beasts snout "its okay we are here now." Cole looked at the massive white stag "he... he saw her flee, saw her go there beyond the trees past there fleeing with the sun." Harel's eyes opened wide in sudden panic "she, she is heading for the arbor wilds SHITE its gunna get her killed DEAD." Harel felt the fear seizing her heart, "OH MYTHALS FUCKING BREAST BAND that place is deadly!" she shook Cole by the shoulders "she cant survive there! Tara is strong but the wilds will eat her alive!" Cole looked up at the bigger woman "death with purpose, safety in silence... I think that is her plan." "Well her plan is fuckin STUPID. We need to get to her before she gets anymore bright ideas! She is not going to sacrifice herself for some dumbass Templar idiot. We are going to bring her back and if he wants to play mage killer then I'll" a deep dangerous growl rumbled in her chest "I will bring it down on him, he wont hurt her... ever."

Harel swung onto the harts back and pulled Cole up behind her. His soft voice accompanying the thud of the hooves "knotted, gnarled, gnawing, the pain of knowing, of being seen, sheltering inside my heart, oh Mythal what if I kill again. Charred bodies.... burning hate... but now I know the faces, everyone I love, everyone I protect crushed like ash. A new templar an old dance, I cannot let it end the same have to stop have to run. The screams the hiss of burning flesh in armor, Mamae! she is cold so cold. Its safer to run let them think me lost, Dorian will know I cannot lie to him. Harel's heart was heavy as stone listening to the pain that tore at her friend. "She's got so much pain and she just keeps adding more, I don't know how she is still going Cole."

"The lion and the serpent bind me to the light, breaking away old walls and hurt. New love in true forms swirling like honey in his tea, eyes of amber look at me with kindness, I cannot let go but I must for them."

"The serpent will know she cannot keep this from him, he sees her and loves her anyway. He will look in the book eventually, but she will be too far gone by then. The lion roars and she runs to save him from her blood in his mouth. The lion tests his chains, roaring as the whip cuts into him but this is for his own good, his fangs start to show as the links break, to break her would break him.

"I am a weapon I have no right to love him, and now he hurts and its all my fault. Soon the hunt will begin again just as before, The Templars will hunt me and I will flee."

Harel looked into the darkness of the trees as Cole whispered all Tara's fear and hurts to her. The weight grows on her shoulders and she thinks of the horrible pain of being so alone; of finally finding people who love her only to have the spirit she was forced to be bound to rip all of it away. We'll change her mind, Dorian knows, he will do anything to stop her being hunted."

"The serpent raises his head fearless, fangs glinting but never poised to bite. He curls around her defensive and defying he know the pain of being hated. The hurt of betrayal for things that you were born with, he understands and draws up to the lion without fear.....Dorian yelled alot." Harel huffed a laugh "of course he did, and that is good, especially if it was at that blockheaded idiot Commander. I cannot believe we keep such ignorant people ar-" "pain, mistrust, I give them my all and the keep forcing me down. the magic, is dangerous; the chantry mother licks her thumb before turning the page, magic is dangerous. I saw the suffering it causes in the circle in Kirkwall, and here. Magic is dangerous but I want so badly to trust, crushed like a flower beneath hooves. She used me! She let me think she was....normal I still love her how can I still love her."

"He still loves her? okay.....maybe he's not as ignorant as I thought.... Sylaise, I hope to fuck Dorian gets him to calm down before we find her." "His hurt touches hers" Cole's voice was quiet and sad. "The scent of sweet mint and rain, I feel myself slipping away but it is there oakmoss and mint, twisting, tantalizing and terribly apart. What have I done! I didn't even give her a chance! I will may never see her again!"

Harel's hands tightened on the reins as the hart navigated a rock "good the fear will make him remorseful, its better that he remains beating himself up for what he did until we get her. He will never hurt her again after this...never again."

Cole sucked in a breath as he caught the agony around Tara again "sharp shards of hate, like the spines of a dragon, raising like hackles, glowing with darkness and smoke. Her heart cannot break like this, it will break her the darkness will find her take her." Harel swallowed heavily "lets say we cant get to her quick enough, what is she going to.... become"

"A pale mask, the queen she refused to be, the mask hides only darkness, edges, and hate. The crystals she fears tear her apart, dark and sharpened wings singing a discordant song. Groping in the darkness, Mamae's cooling body. I am losing myself, falling into the nothing."

Harel shuddered at the thought of her friend giving in and turning into vengeance. "Mythal grant us time to get to her.

Tara couldn't run anymore, she was utterly exhausted from the trauma and the flight from skyhold. She collapsed to her side under a tree. She tried to summon magic to blunt the pain turn off the nerves, but she was too exhausted for that kind of focus. The darkness of unconsciousness claimed her.

"Her mind is quieter she is sleeping!" Cole told harel. "Good, we need to double time it then, before she takes off again." Cole watched the shadows of the trees, "quiet like a drop of water in a pond, undisturbed, no wolves or shadows just soft darkness. She will not be moving any time soon." Harel pushed the stag just a bit faster "damn gotta her give credit though, she can haul ass when she want to if Dorian hadn't found that note so quickly we have never caught up." The pair rode till dawn "darkness pooling but not silent, she is awake.... and close."

blue white eyes glowed faintly in the shadow of a great tree, a deep melodic voice growled "You are not the hounds I was expecting..."

okay my lovelies there will either be a really long episode or two more depending on how much my sad artist brain can take go check out @w-h-4-t she has alot of great writing and is fantastic at Cole's dialog

[little-lightning-lavellan]

💀 …someone your muse would kill for. and 👀 …someone your muse likes, but doesn’t trust.

Spoilers that tie into these for Mellan's story beneath the cut!

💀: Mellan would kill for her sister Aislin without hesitation. Considering Aislin is the Inquisitor, she has, many times.

👀: Mellan wants desperately to trust Flemeth, for some reason. She knows she should not, and she doesn't, but something about the woman draws her to her. She can't help but like her, and feel a sense of honor when the older mage appears to approve of her.

💀, cont.: Mellan will also eventually kill for Solas/Fen'Harel as one of his agents when she leaves the Inquisition. She still loves her sister and will kill to protect her, but she remains loyal to her new cause now.

👀, cont.: Its the Mythal thing. Its definitely the Mythal thing.

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [1139]

"Will we recognize them?” Ellana asks the burning constellation that splays itself over the back of her mind, printed into the bone of her skull. The Crown is all afternoon heat shimmers and refractions of light on ice. A haze of interest offset by a blinding weight of dissatisfaction. The Crown is overall less interested in the specifics of this long overdue meeting and more focused on trying to decide if they should wring their god-sibling’s neck or perhaps taunt them a little first. Ellana hopes that their god-sibling doesn’t see them first and have less of a hard time dithering over what action to take. Ellana isn’t fond of surprises and she would loathe to be surprised by another such as herself.

That could only bode ill for them, really.

In Ellana’s lifetime spent as the bearer of this specific Crown she has only ever met one other like her. She doesn’t know if this is by accident or design. She knows that some Crowns are missing. Almost all of the Crowns of the Forgotten Ones, the Crown of Fen’Harel, the Crown of Mythal, and the Crown of June are lost. The Crowns that have been found or managed to have been kept sustained near continuously since their creation are scattered, whereabouts unknown to most. Their locations only become known once a new coronation has occurred and then their locations are mysteries once again as their Bearer begins to move across Thedas as their Crown wills it.

Ellana spent most of her recovery period in a hidden Temple deep in the Green Dales, near Antiva. And once she was recovered and acclimated well enough she was sent through Antiva to the edge of the Imperium into the Arlathan Forest to train in the manner that best suited her Crown’s desires. She’d met her sister-god on that journey.

The Bearer of Andruil’s Crown was older than her, and more experienced. Ellana’s own Crown was still settling into her bones, shaping itself as it pleased in this current life. It had not yet taken the shape it has taken now. It was too angry and unsettled then, a halo of spines that pierced her as much as they sliced at air.

The Bearer of Andruil’s Crown clucked at her, eyes roving over Ellana’s blood crusted face and her too thin frame and her chapped lips.

“Father-brother,” the Bearer chided, “If you take it out on your Bearer like that they’ll be putting you away again within the year. Go easy on her mortal flesh if you want to get anything done. You’ll only have yourself to blame if you run this one into the grave too early.”

Her Crown did not take this advice well, at first. Ellana’s hair had been shaved a second time to try and assist in the powerful fever that had clouded her vision and reduced her to a shaking heap of flesh and blood and barely any bone. Her lips were open sores, dry, cracked and oozing. The Crown had turned into a veritable vice against her skull, sharp and furious and not understanding the limitations of a twelve year old girl’s body.

But the Crown learned. Or perhaps came to some other sort of conclusion.

The Crown has not been spines or drawn Ellana’s blood since. And Ellana’s skin does not bear any scars of that time — she is still uncertain if that is an apology from the Crown or not.

Ellana’s stag is anxious between her knees, his unease palpable in the air as they draw closer and closer to the tear in the Veil. Ellana would dismount and allow the poor creature to flee if she could. But she cannot scale the mountain herself on foot as quickly as the stag can and Ellana needs as much speed as she can get.

If the Crown of Fen’Harel is here she will not risk losing it and gaining her own Crown’s ire.

Ellana is eventually forced to dismount anyway as they get closer to epicenter of the blast that caused the tear. Before she dismounts she leans her head towards her stag’s, the halo of her Crown gently touching against her stag’s rack of antlers. The Crown sends a gentle wave of warmth and reassurance out through the touch, and the animal’s tension subsides for a moment. Ellana strokes her hand over her stag’s neck, up to behind his ears and giving the base of his antlers a loving scratch for his hard work. She dismounts, taking what she can carry and gives the creature a kiss between the eyes.

The creature is god-touched and very clever besides. He will come when Ellana needs him and calls for his aide. Until then he will figure out his own way to survive.

Ellana’s trek up the mountain is uneventful. Though animals don’t know what the Crown is they are wary enough to stay away and be mindful of its presence. Ellana can see through the trees and over the edges of the ridges she walks dots of what must be people. Running. Fleeing as fast as they can.

The Crown hums against her, unsettled.

The energy of the Wolf’s Crown is thick int he air and yet somehow Ellana still cannot trace the source of it. There’s too much of it. The Crown seethes in dissatisfaction. Their god-sibling could be anywhere. For all they know their god-sibling could be attached to a damned rabbit.

The Crown urges her to follow the fighting. With any luck their god-sibling stuck around to see the fruits of their strife come to bear.

Ellana navigates her way towards ruins of what must have been a building, through worn paths and collapsed bridges.

The Wolf’s energy gets stronger the closer she comes to the epicenter. Aside from the tear in the Veil above them she cannot pinpoint the source of it. And their god-sibling definitely isn’t up in that tear, unless they did the truly unthinkable and somehow bound their crown to a spirit. Impossible because without flesh the crown wont take. Even if the spirit was willing.

Ellana and her Crown look down onto the ruins and the battle going on within, eyes roving over shapes that are people and demons and spectating ghosts. Where are you? Who are you?

The Crown snarls under Ellana’s breath and Ellana goes to draw the sword at her side.

Flame burns through her veins and her bones, wreathing the metal in the divine impatience of a god.

Her Crown ignites above her head as she leaps off of the ledge and into the fray.

If her god-sibling will not do the decent thing of showing themselves then they will simply drag them out. As always, if one wants something done, one must do it themselves.

[vivispec]

Happy Friday! I loved the flower prompts! For anyone you want: snapdragons or bird-of-paradise?

i have just been sitting on these for WEEKS because i've been too busy to post, but i did both! the first (snapdragons, deception, "the hell do you mean?") is a bit of my inqy Viera with her mentor as an adolescent, causing mischief, and the second (bird-of-paradise, excitement, "you've got to come see this!") is her and her childhood bestie, Nuarehn, out climbing trees as da'len. thank you so much!

@dadrunkwriting Viera & Lasafel words: 753

Viera & Nuarehn words: 821

“What do you mean, you were the one who stole Tuath’s bow?” 

Viera shuffled her feet where she stood. “I mean just that,” she repeated, avoiding his eyes in favor of the tree at her mentor’s back. “I did it, I stole it. She was right.”

Lasafel dragged a hand down his face, taking a few steps away to steady his nerves. “Oh, Mythal watch over us both.” It wasn’t everyday one’s apprentice drew the ire of the clan’s own Warleader, a bramble thicket of a woman already—though, with Viera, it definitely was beginning to feel that way. “I defended you, when she said you’d done it.”

“I know,” she sniffed, “It’s why I’m telling you.”

“Mind telling me why, then, you stole it in the first place?”

Her arms crossed, and he eyed the adolescent as she seemed to wage war against her tongue, an indignant set to her jaw, and a knot in her brow. “She just…she thinks she’s so much better than everyone. And not just because she’s a Hahren,” she finally loosed, nose wrinkling, “like, just because her family is so good at hunting, nobody else is even worth her time.”

“Yeah,” Lasafel scoffed, “she’s as pleasant as the ass end of a halla—but that isn’t anything new. Why did you do it now, of all times?”

Silence. Her fingers scratched at her upper arm repetitively beneath his scrutiny, nearly drawing him enough to miss the waver to her voice. “I hate her,” she confessed, and turned her face away, blinking just a few too many times for him not to notice. “I hate her. She isn’t my lethallan.”

The words weren’t of any use in answering his question, but her actions more than sufficed as she looked pointedly to the sky, and took measured breaths. Not only was Tuath her lethallan, she was, as of only this week, much more. After discovering that she and Tuath’s son, Iloniyn, were of one soul, Viera had become in effect a daughter of Tuath—at least, by clan standards—but what was expected and what was true were often at odds. Lasafel had no doubt that things had changed, but he also got the sense it wasn’t in the way it was supposed to. 

“Where did you put it?”

“What?”

“Where did you put her bow?”

“Lasafel, if I return it to her now, she’s never going to—”

“I know.” Slowly, he’d drawn closer, tilting his head to try and catch her eye. When still she wouldn’t look at him, he reached to grip her shoulder, gently. “I know you, too, and I’m sure whatever she said warranted it. But the clan’s leaving tonight, through some pretty rough territory. However we feel, we need her, undistracted.” 

He could feel the rise and fall of her breath, slow and metered. She chewed on her lip, resistant, but she did eventually nod. With a squeeze, he continued. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You know how Ebrin’s head is stuck in the foliage? Always misplacing his tools, leaving projects half-finished to start something new?” Viera nodded again. “I’ll find a good time to slip it into his things, make it look like he forgot it somewhere.”

“I don’t want him to get in trouble.”

“He’s the Craftmaster, Vie, the Keeper won’t bother to so much as scold him for it. And he knows how to handle his sister. He’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, don’t need any more trouble with Tuath than you already have.” Releasing her he leaned back on his heels, and dug through the pouch at his belt. “In the meantime, you give this to Darageal for me—she’ll know what it means—and do anything she says.”

She studied the broken arrowhead in his palm, as if she’d eaten something that hadn’t sat well on her stomach. With a sigh, however, she did relent, reaching a gloved hand forward for him to drop it into. “It’s to the north,” she mumbled, “in a sack in a big fir tree, the one where the river splits west.”

“Good.” He tightened the cinch of his pouch, before patting her solidly across the back. “We’ll talk after it's all shaken out, alright? Can’t have you distracted on the trail tomorrow, either. Until then, you’re the perfect hunter’s apprentice, hear me? No sneaking out, no bothering the hahren, and, Creators sake, no more—”

“I hear!” she cut in, “I hear,” before adding, softer, “...thank you.”

“Anytime, da’shielan,” he said, and meant. “Just…not too often, alright?”

—

“Rehn, hurry up! You have to see this!”

The boy paused where he hung precariously, white-knuckle gripping the branch he’d been attempting to clamber over, and looked up at the voice calling to him. His heart leapt as he tilted his head back and found her through the foliage, bare toes and heels peeking from her footwraps, but it was better than looking down. 

He shuddered, and swallowed the unpleasant taste rising in his throat. Anything was better than looking down.

She always did this, rushing ahead before he’d any hope of catching up. He didn’t even like climbing trees. Waiting until his balance evened, Nuarehn gingerly lifted one hand over his head to grip tight the next limb, and shakily pulled himself to stand. “I’m trying,” he whined, “but I can’t go faster. I’m going to fall again.”

It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t good at it, she just made it look easy. Above his head Viera swung her legs, the leaves of her perch trembling with laughter as they joined in with her giggles. “You won’t fall. And even if you did, we're not that high up. Now, quick, before it's gone! You’re gonna miss it!”

“Miss what, exactly?” 

“It’s all gold, but just like the ocean, and the clouds are like…they’re…the light, it’s reaching out like this—”

Whatever motion she was making he couldn’t catch through the foliage, but he was close now, enough that her movements sent vibrations up from the bark and through his palms. Just a little more. Again he hoisted himself up, straddling the branch just beneath hers, but her own was just out of his reach. He’d need to stand, and wedge his foot in the fork where the trunk split. 

It’s just…just one more. I can do one more. He dug his fingers into the bark, but it did little to stabilize him. It…it might not even hurt. Vie said it wasn’t high, so maybe…maybe…

His eyes flicked down. Viera had lied.

Nuarehn gasped, spreading his arms to hug the trunk; the shock of fear running up through his legs unsteadied him, however, and he stumbled. He teetered a moment in between falling, lurching forward and backwards as he struggled for balance, before finally it slipped away from him entirely. Arms flailing wildly he fell back, a cry barely escaping his throat as he reached out—

And was caught, just barely, by the grasp of another.

“See?” Viera grunted through her teeth, stretching out on her belly to reach for him with both hands, and gripping the branch tight between her thighs. “I told you…you wouldn’t fall. Now stop wiggling.”

The involuntary kicking of his feet slowed until eventually she could wrestle him up, close enough to grab something solid. Bit by bit she pulled, working up his arm until his hands were beneath him, not above, and he could sit beside her. Heaving heavy breaths, the two looked at each other, blinking away sweat and, in Nuarehn’s case, the prickling tears like little brambles that had jumped to his eyes.

Then, a smile split Viera’s face, and her gasps sounded more and more like laughter, until she had thrown her head back. She kicked her feet, and Nuarehn braced himself as his world shook.

“The look on your face—” she was interrupted by her own snort, electing instead to wait until her giggles had resolved before continuing. “You really thought I was gonna let you fall, didn’t you?”

He felt his cheeks blaze. “How was I supposed to know—” he started, but it was no use. Already her attention had strayed, out across the treetops and towards the horizon. His grip began to loosen, just a touch, and she pointed.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

The wind pressed from behind as if following her gesture, teasing the loose strands of their hair to tickle at his cheeks, and hers. He followed, too, casting out across the treetops to where fields of wheat were pushed into great, lustrous waves of gold, and the sun below the spread-thin clouds sent forth rays that reached towards them. As if he could reach out for them, and feel their warmth against his fingers. As if the world were bathed in light.

“What is it called?” Viera whispered, breathless through a grin. “There has to be a word for it.”

He scrambled to remember what Elvhen he’d learned, the bits and pieces gifted to him from the Keeper. “Elgara vallas, the sun sets,” he recalled from a lullaby, “lasa vunlea, gifting light.” They weren’t quite right, however, and the word he wanted—beautiful, gorgeous, breath-taking—was much too long to remember. Slowly, he worked together the only other word he could find. 

“Haur’en’an’sal,” he settled on. “Golden blessing.”

“Haur’en’an’sal,” Viera repeated, as if testing the feel of it in her mouth, enunciating slowly. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

Despite the perilous climb, Nuarehn felt much the same.