#anise lavellan

[k9rage]

From Different Puzzles (But We Fit Together) - Chapter 2

Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus, ~8k, Teen

Added tags: Minor Original Characters, Making Out, Magical Theory

Dorian's gray eyes softened, brushing his fingers over the newly tied bracelet on his wrist. “I'm sensing I should step up my gift choices, Nydha. You know how to make a man feel incredibly spoiled.”  The elf smiled, fidgeting in his seat. “I like your gifts just fine, Dorian.”  “They're usually books from your library, Nydha,” Dorian replied, exasperated but fond.  “I know,” Nydha laughs, bright eyes scrunching with the force of his smile. “Still. I like having excuses to see you.” Leaning in conspiratorially, he whispered behind his palm, “and don't tell everyone else, but you're my favorite.”

You can read the rest of this chapter here!!!

(Please read it I am so proud and excited to share my stupid sweetheart of a Lavellan with you all)

[calicostorms]

4, 7, and 8 for nydha plsssssss

4: a letter from your oc to their love interest

In this case he has two, so I've done two.

[Found among Dorian's belongings in the library. It is a letter in a messy script with the scent of Embrium clinging to it]

Ma da'caron,

I wish I had brought you along to the Hissing Wastes. This place is rather unsettling and all the sand sucks. You always make it feel less serious when things trouble me, regardless of the problem in question. Other than the sand and a rather bad sunburn I am doing fine.

We've been slowly making some progress, but the creatures here are often hostile and odd. I've never seen something like it, apart from the occasional dragon deep within the forests, and those were rare. There's an odd chanter here that Solas says is a spirit; it gave me the heebie jeebies. At least closing rifts has gotten easier in recent weeks, I guess.

Your presence is sorely missed at my side every night, whether it's reading me those fancy books you imported to the Skyhold library or trying to stumble through learning elvhen. Your teasing in particular, I often miss in this weird wasteland while I am far from you.

We will return within several weeks from the receiving of this letter, or so says the agent I gave this letter to for delivery. I have squirreled away several pieces of jewelry which reminded me of you in anticipation of reuniting soon!

Dareth shiral,

Nydha Lavellan

[A letter from the Inquisitor on custom pale green parchment found on a small table beside the Inquisitor's personal guard, Rajmael. It is written solely in Elvhen.]

My loving protector,

Do not worry for me, my heart. Our companions are highly capable and the mission of no more danger than my previous ones. The sooner you are healed from your injury, the sooner we may travel together again! I know you will worry, but the gods will protect me from harm.

The healer (I forget his titles, I hope he will not be upset), Lark, gifted me several more healing balms than on my previous missions and I fully expect The Iron Bull will be enough for this particular trip. Thus far it has been uneventful, and I miss speaking elvhen with you. Dorian is lovely, but his elvhen is worse than any Dalish four year old's still, not to mention his accent. He has been trying his best to raise my spirits in your absence with partial success.

So far I have returned a widow's ring to her in exchange for an old bottle of liquor. I am unsure of if it is still good, but she was sweet to gift it. We have taken down several small groups of bandits bothering the farmers near Redcliffe in recent days, which was fun! I managed to freeze one solid, so maybe Vivienne's advice about ice magic was helpful. I've never been much good at ice magic.

Go with my favor,

Nydha Lavellan-Ghilain

7: Someone describing a time your oc hurt them

[A torn out journal entry]

—he fought me again today. He apologized once he was calm, but my face stings quite badly. I might have a black eye, but I will ask the healer to fix it so Nydha won't feel so guilty.

I know it isn't about me. He's scared and in pain and his family was massacred in cold blood. I'll protect him the best I can from his own grief, even if it means a black eye or two. [The rest has been torn away]

8: your OC's doctor/healer describing their injuries

Codex: A Healer's Logbook

[A log of various injuries and ailments sustained by Nydha Lavellan over several years. This is an addition to serveral previous, earlier assessments]

8th of Bloomingtide

His pain continues to worsen, regardless of the rest he gets, or lack thereof. The anchor is spreading slowly, though Solas and I have done what we can to stop it. Nydha is run ragged by pain, both physical and psychological, and often fails to sleep through the night.

15th of Justinian

He has a huge sword slash across the side from fighting at Adamant. It has surprisingly not been infected, though his attempts to heal it probably staved off some infection on the journey back. The tissue may not grow back completely, but he will live and it will not pain him.

17th of Justinian

Black eye from sneaking up on Sera to surprise her. He'll be fine.

26th of Justinian

He has gone through 3 more sleeping draughts just this month and often complains of pains. His usual hand pains seem to be worse on the left hand, and he rarely uses it if he can avoid it.

Note: ask Mellita and Revna if they know of any other solutions to his sleep problems.

1rst of Kingsway

Occasional bouts of incorporality with his left hand when getting closer to rifts. Does not seem to pain him extensively.

29th of Kingsway

Several bear clawmarks on his right leg, minor infection. The injury is fixable and he will be fine in several hours.

[trender-official]

DAI Prologue ReWrite

this was getting too long so i’m posting two separate chapters.

Anise awoke but did not open his eyes. He heard the shifting of people in suits of armor, smelled wet cold air. This was not where he’d passed out. He racked his mind for memories but could only remember running, a woman, and then passing out in a place ablaze. Slowly, he opened his eyes, finding swords pointed at him in a cell, his arms were bound in front of him. His hand suddenly alit green, pain searing up his hand into his forearm. His mouth clenched, the pain demanding silence, not screams when it suddenly stopped. He panted heavily, leaning over. He looked up when he heard footsteps, his back still curved. 

Two women walked in through the door, a woman with short dark hair leading, the second having a hood covering her hair and shading her face, and the men put away their swords. The dark-haired woman walked behind him and leaned down next to his ear. “Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now.” She spoke with an accent he recognized. Noble Nevarran. Who was she? “The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.” She said pointedly. His eyes widened. 

“What? What happened?” 

“Explain this.” She lifted his hand, it glowed painfully once more. 

“I…” He paused for a beat. “Can’t.”

“What do you mean you can't?” Her tone grew more aggressive.

“I don’t remember anything.” He said calming, but internally his panic grew. 

“You’re lying!” She shouted, grabbing him and pushing him back, in an attempt to intimidate him. 

“We need him, Cassandra!” The woman, now whom he could tell had red hair, said, pulling her away. 

Anise stared at them, processing what she just said. “How? How are all of them dead?” He asked. He couldn’t understand- What? Qunari gaatlok?

“Do you remember how this happened? How this began?” The red-haired woman asked, standing over him, the fire lighting up her face.

“No. I remember running from… something. And a woman. Then passing out.” He explained, feeling the best way to survive was to be honest. He couldn’t lie well, at all.

“A woman?” She said, a strange accent peaking out.

“She reached for me- But I can’t remember anything past that.” 

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” A name! “I will take him to the rift.” Rift? The woman- Leliana, turns and leaves. 

The black-haired woman crouched down in front of him, unchaining his shackles. He isn’t surprised they remain, though. “What did happen?” He asked as she looked up. 

“It- It will be easier to show you.” 

She leads him up and through a chantry. Not a surprise- Outside of major prisons chantry’s usually hold prisoners. It wouldn't be his first time inside one- But the first time from the eyes of a criminal- Suspected criminal. 

The doors open, and immediately a garish green spiral in the sky caught his attention. “What is that?” She turned to look up at it with hatred.

“We call it the breach.” She started to explain. “It’s a massive rift into the Veil that grows larger with every passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

“How could an explosion do that?” Anise asked absentmindedly, staring in awful awe of it. 

“No one knows. Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world.” The breach lit up as it expanded, as did the mark on his hand. The pain hit a moment later, cause him to strangledly groan as he fell to his knees. She kneeled in front of him once again. “Each time the breach expands, your mark grows. And it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this. But there isn’t much time.” 

The pain slowly ebbed back, his breathing returning to normal. “…I understand.” 

“Then?”

“I’ll do what I can. Whatever it takes.” She smiled softly, a look of relief when she stood and helped him to his feet. She pulled him up- So hard he felt he may get thrown into the air. This woman frightened him.

She dragged him through a crowd of glaring and whispering people. “They have decided your guilt. They need it.” They walked not far to a gate that opened when they approached. “We lash out ,like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves. As the Divine did. Until the breach is sealed.” She stops, and removes his shackles. “There will be a trial. I can promise no more. Come, it is not far.”

“Where are you taking me?” He asked, rubbing his wrists. 

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the breach.” She began walking forward. “Open the gate! We’re heading into the valley.” She yelled to the gatekeeper. Barricades are set up on the path she leads them down, Anise shook his head, they will do nothing in a fight with a demon. 

Suddenly, as they near the top of the hill, his hand screamed once more. “The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.” She explained, although he’d already concluded that. She helped him up and continued on.

After a moment he speaks. “How did I survive the blast?” 

“They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.” The gate in front of them opens, and onto the bridge they go. 

As they reach the middle, something from the breach comes hurling down, crumbling it to pieces. He falls onto a frozen lake, where a wraith got thrown down as well. The dark-haired woman charges them, sword and shield in hand. Another wraith begins to appear, as Anise spots a staff nearby. He scrambles to grab it when the body of the wraith conjures.

Quickly he casts a bolt of fire and chucks it towards it- But it still approaches, burning. He slowly walks back as he attacks it, but it quickly crowds him where he can’t back off anymore. He bashes it over the head with the hilt of the staff. It recovers quickly and tries to slash him with its claws, but he catches them with the staff and redirects it quickly, scrambling away while it fumbles. 

The dark-haired woman finishes off the wraith she was fighting and slashes down the other. She then suddenly pointed her sword at Anise and said, “Drop your weapon! Now!”

Anise raised his hand, gently lowering the staff. “Okay. Okay.” Staying on her good side was a primary goal. He decided not to mention that he could kill her without a staff. She looked to be contemplating something for a second. 

She sighed. “Wait.” Anise tilted his head and stopped. “I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be helpless. I should remember that you agreed to come willingly.” She sheathed her sword and grabbed something from out of the bag on her hip. “Take these potions. Maker knows what we will face.” They were small and red, clearly healing potions, dyed to be able to tell them apart. A standard practice of apothecaries. They continued up the hill, passing by a dead soldier. Normally, he would take anything left on them, the resourcefulness of a dalish elf, but believed it would bother the dark-haired woman. He still didn’t know her name. 

“Where are your soldiers?” Anise asked. With the amount of soldiers they’d seen earlier it was a surprise there weren’t more now. 

“At the forward camp, or fighting. We’re on our own, for now.” She explained, then breaking out into a run. Anise huffed and set to follow her, but her pace was too quick for him to keep up. She turned when she heard his footsteps grow far and slowed down. They finally reached the top of the hill, where they spotted some wraiths in a valley. “There! Watch out! If we flank them, we may gain the advantage.” She said, her head turned to Anise as she began to run down to the wraiths, her sword unsheathed. 

Anise stayed at the top of the hill, being a mage granted him the extra range, hurling powerful blue flames down upon the wraiths. They were defeated quickly, after all there were only two, and they continued on into the valley. Another is thrown down onto another hill in the distance, a wisp this time. 

Anise conjures a ball of lightning in the time it takes the dark-haired woman to close the distance between her and the other demon and attacks the wisp, killing it in a sudden burst. She quickly thrusts her sword through the wraith, finishing it off quickly. “You’re very efficient.” Anise points out. 

She nods but otherwise does not comment. 

They continue over the small hill and into another valley, where more lurk. Anise sighs and readies himself once more, this time casting a shield over the dark-haired woman. She quickly closes the distance on the wraith, leaving the wisp for Anise. She bashes it with her shield and slashes off one of its arms. It fumbles and tries to attack, but she blocks it with her shield and runs it through. The wisp shoots a bolt of spiritual energy at Anise, weakening him. He tries to shrug it off but cannot kill it before the dark-haired woman reaches it, and she takes the final blow. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, as he caught up. 

He nodded, a little winded. “I’ll be alright.” 

She nodded and continued up the stairs embedded in the hill, covered in snow. He followed, rolling his shoulders. “We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting.”

“Who is fighting?” Anise asked, as she started to run. 

“You’ll see soon. We must help them.” This woman much preferred to show him than tell him, clearly.

They reached a ledge and she immediately jumped off, joining the fray below. A rift like the one in the sky floats above a scene of people fighting with wraiths, a few humans, an elf, and a dwarf. This must be who we must help. He jumped down and cast a shield over them, targeting the wraith that was fighting another elven mage. The humans group up and defeat a wraith together while the dwarf pins down another with powerful shots from his crossbow. One unlike anything Anise had seen before. 

The dark-haired woman defeats the final one, when the elven mage grabs Anise’s hand and thrusts it towards the rift. “Quickly! Before more come through!” He yelled. The rift crackled and lit up, before closing. Anise shivered- He’d felt nothing like that before… 

“What did you do?” Anise said, holding his hand close to his chest, frightened slightly. 

“I did nothing. The credit is yours.” The man said, as if it were clear as day. 

“How?” Anise said, questions seeming to be the majority of his speech. 

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake - and it seems I was

correct.” He said with a smile. 

The dark-haired woman approached, sheathing her sword. “Meaning it could also close the breach itself.” 

“Possibly.” He said to her, before turning back to Anise. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.” 

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in wraiths forever.” The dwarf exclaimed as he fiddled with his gloves, then walked forward, crossbow now on his back. “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at the dark-haired woman, making her huff. 

“Varric Tethras… The author? What are you doing here?” Anise had read Tales of the Champion- Of course he had. Almost everyone who could even read had. It was good- The ending with Orsino bothered him, though. Why go through all that just to become a blood mage at the very end?

“Oh? You a fan? I’ll give you an autograph if we survive this.” He said with a laugh. 

“Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…” She began.

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? You need me.” A Seeker? Is she…? She makes a noise of disgust. Cassandra Pentagast! The Seeker who became right hand to the Divine! No wonder he felt he recognized her. He should’ve known. And the other woman must’ve been the left hand of the Divine. 

The elven mage interrupted his thoughts. “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I'm pleased to see you still live.” Anise tilted his head.

“He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'” Varric explained, making Anise smile. 

“Then I owe you my thanks.” He said, bowing to him. 

“Thank me if we manage to close the breach without killing you in the process.” He smiled grimly. “Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any l have ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.” He explained to her. 

“Yes. I have felt nothing like this either. But I will do what I must.” Anise said with a nod. 

“Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly.”  The woman he now recognized as Cassandra said, turning to leave. They jump over a broken wall and continue down the path. 

There was an open frozen lake, with two wraiths and two wisps blocking the path to the forward camp. The three men stayed on the high ground while Cassandra charged the wraiths, hitting them both with a swipe of her sword before tucking behind her shield when they returned the attack. Silas and Anise accidentally both cast a ward on her, wasting mana. The wisp on the right sent a blast of energy toward Varric, hitting him dead on and weakening him. Quickly reacting, Solas cast a healing spell to help him recover before launching a ball of ice at the wisp, killing it. After Anise sent a ball of fire and killed the final wisp, the party regrouped and continued on. 

Anise spotted a burning house and quickly turned and ran towards it, trying to see if anyone needed help. He used a bolt of force to bust down the door, but could see the body of another already dead on the floor. He sighed and backed away from the smoke infested area and returned to the group, who’d followed him closer to the house, though not as closely as he’d gotten. They were silent until they began up the stairs embedded in the hill. “So…” Varric started. “Are you innocent?” 

“I don’t remember what happened.” Anise said concisely. 

Varric snickered. “That’ll get you every time. Should’ve spun a story.”

“That’s what you would’ve done.” Cassandra returned.

“It’s more believable! And less prone to result in premature execution.” He pointed out.

“When you are able to lie.” Anise said with a laugh. “I was not gifted with such abilities.” 

They topped the hill to see two more little humps with wisps stationed on top with a wraith in the middle. Varric and Solas focused one while Anise focused on another, effectively taking them out despite not being a team for very long. It was clear they were all either well seasoned, or well trained. Cassandra rushed the wraith, cutting off its neckless head.

“I hope Leliana made it through all this.” Cassandra said anxiously.

“She’s resourceful, Seeker.” Varric said, slightly patronizingly.

Solas spoke up, “We will see for ourselves at the forward camp. We’re almost there.”

They continued on the path up to the forward camp, coming across another rift in front of the gate. “Another rift!” Cassandra said, sounding panicked and surprised. 

“We must seal it! Quickly!” Solas shouted.

“They keep coming! Help us!” A soldier that was fighting a demon screamed. Solas quickly froze the wraith in front of the soldier solid, where it was quickly destroyed by her sword. With the battle now balanced, they quickly overtook the brutal but mindless demons. 

“Hurry! Use the mark!” Solas shouted once more. Anise lifted his hand and reached out to the rift, manipulating the marks magic like he would his own. This felt… different. Like holding a tool and now using a part of your body. He felt like he was sewing the Veil shut with a needle.

“The rift is gone! Open the gates!” Cassandra shouted to the gatekeeper. 

“Right away, Lady Cassandra!” Anise smiled. He was right! He already knew that, though.

“We’re clear, for the moment. Well done.” Solas said, placing a hand on Anise’s back.

“Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful.” Said Varric. Anise laughed and nodded in agreement. “It ‘tis.”  

They entered the forward camp to yelling. “We must prepare the soldiers!” Shouted a female voice. Sounded like Leliana… He couldn’t tell for sure.

 “We will do no such thing.” A male and pompous voice exclaimed. 

“The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is our only chance!” Leliana reasoned. 

“You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility.”

“I have caused trouble?”

“You, Cassandra, the Most Holy —haven't you all done enough already?” 

“You're not in command here!”

“Enough! I will not have it!” He yelled as they approached. “Ah. Here they come.” He said with disdain, his arms folding over his chest as he turned to them. 

Leliana ran over to them with a smile, patting Cassandra’s shoulder. “You made it. Chancellor Roderick this is-“

“I know who he is.” 

“As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I herby order you to take this criminal to Val Royaeux to face execution!” He said, pointing at Anise.

Cassandra scoffed “Order me? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!” She insulted him, standing intimidatingly in front of him. 

“And you are a thug. But a thug that supposedly serves the Chantry!” He does not back down, trusting she would not touch a hair on his head.

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.” Leliana butts in.

“Justina is dead! We must elect a replacement, and obey her orders on the matter!” 

“And that makes you in charge?” Anise questions, stepping forward and tilting his head.

“You killed everyone in charge!” Roderick said, pushing past Cassandra to point a finger at him. “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.” He said turning back to her.

“We can stop this before it's too late.” Cassandra said with conviction.

“How? You won't survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers.”

“We must get to the temple. It's the quickest route.”

Leliana interjects “But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It is too risky.” Cassandra shook her head.

“Listen to me! Abandon this now before more lives are lost!” Roderick is promptly ignored. 

Cassandra turns to Anise. “How do you think we should proceed?” 

Anise’s eyebrows raise to the top of his head. “You’re asking me?” 

“You have the mark.” Solas simply put.

“And you are the one we must keep alive. Since we cannot agree on our own…” Cassandra trailed off, cueing Anise in.

“We should take the mountain path. We may yet find your squad.” Anise assumed it was probably a rift that opened up that caught them up. With him, they could close it.  

“Leliana. Bring everyone left in the valley.” Cassandra commands. “Everyone.”

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker.” Roderick curses as she passes by. 

[justangel-draws]

Rajmael Anise - Sworn Sword of Inquisitor Nydha Lavellan (Nydha is @calicostorms character btw👍)

im literally going to eat him alive….

[rosella-writes]

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.” From the smut prompt list for this thirsty DADWC? 🤣 any pairing of your choice!

This one rambled and got away from me and has no real end, but um... tada? Virelan Lavellan x Solas for @dadrunkwriting, lemon-flavoured (but considerably less so than anticipated, sorry).

~~~

Virelan wasn’t sure how he managed to look so smug, even on his knees. She was determined to wring it out of him.

“Solas.”

He hummed pleasantly in reply, as if she had encountered him in the library. She could feel the vibration of it as she ran her knuckle up over the ridge of his throat. His eyes smiled, sparkled even, though his mouth remained a firm line — those light eyes darkened only slightly when she closed her hand beneath his jaw. 

“You know why you’re here, right?”

Solas chuckled as she turned his face one way, then the other, as if inspecting him. The light from her hearth played over his pale skin and glowed through the points of his ears. “I presume to submit to your will, Inquisitor.”

She fondly ran a rough thumb over the thin skin of his cheek, then over his lower lip — his eyes fluttered closed. Her other hand spread from his bare shoulder, to the curve of his clavicle, to the point of his sternum where muscles met bone. She could feel his breaths quicken here, as she spread her fingers wide. 

“Oh, love,” she whispered, leaning close. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

His laugh was short and breathy. “Then do it, ara lath.”

Her nails found purchase on his chest and raked a slow, merciful path over his skin. He made a soft noise, almost a groan, not quite a whimper — she admired the reddened lines her fingers left behind. 

“I don’t reward impatience,” she told him. “You know that.”

The sparkle in his eyes hadn’t died when he dared to smile cheekily up at her. “You are slow tonight, but not teasing. You build no anticipation. I may be kneeling, but I find it difficult to submit to a woman who will not command me.”

She yanked her hand back, as if to strike his face — he flinched, and in that moment dread flooded through her like never before. She disliked striking her lovers, even when begged to, and had never done so in anger. She’d meant to threaten him with it, not do it. He looked as if he’d expected her knuckles across his cheek. 

“Please,” he said quickly, as if sensing how hard her heart now beat in her chest. All of his cheeky resistance fell away into earnest supplication. “I want you to.”

She swallowed. She felt slow, dumb. “I’ll hurt you.”

“Yes,” he rushed. “Virelan I assured you — but we — it is alright —”

His hands spread across the span of her hips, warm and broad and grounding, and he guided her suddenly jelly-limbed body down to straddle his lap. His hands slid up her waist to her arms to guide them over his shoulders — she let them drape, limp, as she tucked her nose into the curve of his neck. 

“It is alright,” he was murmuring. His voice soothed through her by sensation and sound, and his hands ran up and down her bare back. 

“I thought I’d be okay this time,” she grumbled. She took a deep breath. “This is silly. You asked me. You have a watchword and everything. I was so… excited to have your trust that I didn’t think how much the act would bother me.”

His hands paused in their circuit, just for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. The pressure was calming, just like the faint scent of anise and lime plaster on his skin. “I did not realise.”

She snorted. “Because I didn’t tell you.”

“Virelan…”

“Don’t scold me,” she snapped, but her voice sounded weak even to her own ears. “I know, I know.”

He held her even tighter and nuzzled her shoulder. “Doing as I ask… would you truly not enjoy it?”

She paused, the confession heavy on her tongue. She tapped her fingertips on his back as she deliberated — she was so full of anxious energy that she wanted to step away from him and pace, rather than allow him to keep holding her. She swallowed that urge down.

“I think,” she choked, “I would like it too much.”

She felt his little chuckle, but he made a concerted effort not to allow it to be audible. “I know telling you that it is alright to enjoy it will not help, but I still wish for you to know.”

“I think I get that,” she grumbled. “Hard to get my brain to hold on to it while in the middle of it all though.”

He tentatively kissed her shoulder. “I understand.”

[salexectrian-heir]

Pressing her mouth to his cheek she whispered, “I never claimed to be sensible. I don’t plan on starting to be now, either.”

Quote from Loki, Solavellan modern au (Rated E)

(art ref)

[giftsforlittleblue-eyedbird]

Anise mixing herbs, as in “Savior of the Damned”! I was really excited when @littleblue-eyedbirdchirps mentioned this would make a good scene to draw, as my Lavellan is also an alchemy enthusiast :)

[plumrabbit]

Since it’s reveal day, I’m posting this last painting of Anise Lavellan from my actual account. @littleblue-eyedbirdchirps, I was your Secret Palentine!

[empresstress13]

Sketch of @littleblue-eyedbird’s Anise Lavellan! Happy late birthday!

[k9rage]

WIP Wednesday

Snippet from my pavellan fic from a battle scene I worked on today!

“Close it, Nydha,” Dorian shouted, pinned close to a tree by a terror. “Close the damn thing!” Nydha pushed his hand up further, willing the rift to close. His hand burned. The rift finally closed, bringing with it the wailing of unholy creatures as they crumpled. Nydha shook his hand off, watching the sickly green swirl of his mark. “Is everyone okay?” He asked, stumbling gracelessly like a newborn halla. He massaged the back of his head and winced, the pain in his hand slowly receding back to its normal prickling. “All accounted for, boss,” The Iron Bull called, wiping the blade of his cleaver clean. Varric made a noise of agreement, reholstering Bianca on his back. Rajmael came to stand at Nydha's side once more, protective as always. “Just so,” Dorian replied, emerging from the edge of the clearing.

Tagging @merrybandofmurderers @floralprintshark @horrorscoupes @bicyclepainting @solarthermals @just-call-me-angel n @mrs-theirin !

[calicostorms]

Oc Picrew

Tagged by @merrybandofmurderers to make some DA ocs in picrew!

In order:

Rajmael Anise (Inquisitor's bodyguard) x Nydha Lavellan (Inquistor)

Meraad Adaar (mercenary) x Lenamar Dax (ex-Tevinter Chantry brother turned tranquil)

Asgeir Brynjarson (Avvar Inquisition agent) x Fen'an Alahannon (Anderfels Dalish Inquisition agent)

Lark Orrick (Inquisition head healer) x Mellita Trevelyan (blood mage Inquisition agent)

[izzym-art]

Commission for @littleblue-eyedbird! Thank you~♥

[shivunin]

🙤 Unusual OC Associations 🙧

Tagged by @greypetrel---thanks for the tag! This is so cool :) I also might do this for all of them gradually---I enjoy this unique way of thinking about these characters. I added Arianwen under the break here, and I'll likely make a separate post for my bounty of Lavellans. (Also--I'm just putting this out there--I'm adding a Tarot section for mine because I kept thinking about cards for them as I was writing these, but it wasn't part of the original list c: )

Maria Hawke

Seasoning: Something warm and sharp, like ginger or cinnamon. The kind of thing you can add to a hot drink when it's cold outside.

Weather: Snow that falls in big, puffy flakes that make you feel grateful to be inside and warm. Not a storm, but snow that makes everything feel a bit closer than it was before.

Colour: The crimson of heart's-blood, vivid and unmistakable

Sky: When it's very cold and clear outside and there are ice crystals shining in the air. You can only see them when they catch the light, but they're there nonetheless, like clouds scattered at ground level

Magic power: Fire that soothes and sears: a healing heat that is like knocking back a finger of whiskey in the bitter cold, or a blush on a first date.  The agonizing pain of reaching for a pot too fresh from the fire or overlooking the burning candle you've just tipped over in your negligence. 

House plant: Aloe vera: you can forget about it, it can withstand too much sun or rain for a time, and as long as it’s cared for every so often it’ll keep taking out the sting of your hurts

Weapon: A staff made of dark wood and bronze, polished to a gloss by decades of use and her father’s hands. 

Subject: History—but mostly the salacious or embarrassing bits. Hawke loves a good story, and she definitely tells the bawdy ones when she’s tipsy.

Social media: Despises it. Has a hard time reading tone on the internet. Probably runs a personal blog about her life Kirkwall that she never updates, and rarely responds to comments; she’s too impatient to work to understand a format or website culture. 

Make-up product: An anise oil treatment she rubs into her hair before she sleeps at night to keep it glossy and tangle-free

Candy: Chocolate-covered roasted almonds; a study in contrasts, with the sweet, melt-in-your mouth richness of chocolate and the crunchy, faintly bitter and salty almonds. 

Fear: Failure; that it was actually her fault that Malcolm and Bethany died, and that it will happen again if she isn’t quick/clever/good enough

Ice cube shape: Perfectly square, rattles nicely when you shake it in a glass

Method of long distance travel: Carriage; she can nap, read, and take in the sights exactly as much as she’d like to. 

Art style: Impressionism; trying to capture the fleeting through the suggestion of detail, but ultimately only capturing the impression of what it once was. The finished result is still beautiful, if full of nostalgia. 

Mythological creature: A church grim; guardian of its domain and foreteller of death. 

Piece of stationery: Handmade paper with pieces of dried rose petal or herbs pressed into the paper itself; slightly ragged around the edges but thick and sweet-smelling. 

3 emojis: 👀 💅🏽 😶

Celestial body: The harvest moon on the horizon, golden and full and looking impossibly close despite the distance

Tarot Card: The Hanged Man; Intuition, trials, and self-sacrifice

Tagging: @star--nymph @zenstrike

(and really, anyone who wants to do this--I know these things have the power to make one feel like the kid picked last for dodgeball, but I feel like I'm overstepping if we've never really interacted. Tell me if you want to do these things and I will tag you forever. Really.)

(I put Wen under the break, insert "nobody puts Baby in the corner" joke)

Arianwen Tabris

Seasoning: Oh, salt, hands-down. No elaboration.

Weather: Gathering cumulonimbus on the horizon, with that especially purple-grey tinge to the bottom that tells you it’s going to be a really brutal storm. There are streaks of lightning every now and then, and you can see the streaks where rain has already begun to fall in the distance. (It leaves destruction behind, but come back in a season or a year---the fallen trees grow moss now, and house animals, and the fields have grown back all the greener for the rain)

Colour: Gunmetal grey; dull at first glance but lustrous and brutal nonetheless. 

Sky: Red at first light

Magic power: Reopening hidden hurts and forgotten wounds

House plant: Cactus in a terracotta pot. Sometimes you wonder why you’ve still got it on the shelf there, when all it does is poke you and look menacing. But then you look at it after a multiweek depression fog and it’s still there, unwilted, kicking ass. 

Weapon: a throwing knife, painted matte-black, all but invisible at night until it hits you

Subject: Applied physics; she likes the practical reality of numbers, and the application of an object in motion can really only benefit her. 

Social media: Has a private Youtube account where she saves all her favorite Lockpicking Lawyer videos. If anyone posts a picture or video with her in the background, she hunts them for sport. 

Make-up product: Cover up/foundation; if all your scars and tattoos are covered, it’s more difficult for people to identify you

Candy: Rebanaditas (watermelon chili powder candy) (and hey, this is how I found out that lucas powder contained high levels of lead and that’s why it was discontinued?? If you ate a bunch of it like I used to, just a heads-up.)

Fear: Loving someone as much as her father loved her mother (as much as she loved her mother) and losing them anyway.

Ice cube shape: Circle K ice (the little crunchy ones people like to chew on)

Method of long distance travel: Foot. No chance she’ll have to climb off or down from something and get taken by surprise. 

Art style: Charcoal sketches; they seem straightforward, even simplistic at first glance, but are capable of unexpected depth and dimension

Mythological creature: Cŵn Annwn; a hound of the Wild Hunt in Welsh lore. Their howls were a death portent that grew quieter rather than louder as they approached. Sometimes regarded as guides to the afterlife.

Piece of stationery: Scrap of paper torn off a larger text for convenience

3 emojis: 🔪 🤨 🐺

Celestial body: Mars

Tarot Card: The Tower; a symbol of abrupt and violent change, for better or worse

[thevikingwoman]

One of the things I love the most about the Dragon Age fandom is how many unique and wonderful characters people create. I love them.

I wanted to show my appreciation for the staggering creativity, work and love put into these characters. They are all so unique and different and lovely.  I got an idea and I commissioned @dexukiart to draw my favorite Lavellans.

I wanted to see them all together, so this is a sort of masterpost. Links to a small post about each, and why I love them :D. From the top left to bottom right: 

Sene Lavellan, belonging to @galadrieljones

Pangara Lavellan, belonging to @tel-abelas-mofo​

Elle Lavellan, belonging to @redinkofshame

Anise Lavellan, belonging to @littleblue-eyedbird

I hope you all enjoy this vision of your Lavellans, I love them and your writing <3. 

A HUGE thanks to @dexukiart​, these portraits are so awesome, and she was so patient and wonderful to work with, accommodating my detective work to get this done secretly, sleuthing out information :).

[redinkofshame]

More Polyvore Shenanigans

So I was thinking about how I never do nice things like buy commissions for other people, and at the same time Ket asked me to do more Polyvore outfits but didn’t give me any (decent) suggestions on who to do (crossbow Bianca? Really?), and then this happened. (link)

@tel-abelas-mofo‘s Pangara Lavellan, featuring a sweater she knit herself and a leather necklace that looks suspiciously like a collar. She probably uses the bag to hold her yarn. (link)

@littleblue-eyedbird‘s Anise Lavellan, with her kitten heels and an arrow necklace. Sorry, I couldn’t think of a way to incorporate yoga into the outfit. (link)

Edit: After @thevikingwoman told me Iwyn has an olive skin-tone, I updated the colors a bit. Featuring leggings that look iced and gold accessories for the medal she hopes to earn. I couldn’t decide on a skate-practice outfit or something a bit more daring. (link)

[salexectrian-heir]

Loki: Chapter 12*

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E*, this chapter is NSFW

Summary: Lavellan rescued a mischievious sphynx kitten outside her work who loves her dearly. But his destructive habits start to get out of hand when he steals her attractive neighbor’s underwear… repeatedly.

Chapter 12* (4.8k, NSFW)

Anise wove in between bodies at a record pace, clutching her lunch bag to her chest, dodging interns left and right. She needed a moment of silence to clear her throbbing head, and if one more first year came up and asked her how to properly intubate someone, she might just scream. Normally, she would be all for teaching freshly graduated doctors-to-be techniques, but after what she just witnessed in the resident lounge? Absolutely not. 

Anise took a sharp right and dove into the stairwell that would lead her towards the basement, her feet moving on autopilot to the once familiar place she would run off to escape to early on in her career at Haven. At the second to last door from the bottom, she slumped into it, letting her weight push it open. Her brows arched as she saw someone else who apparently had the same idea she did, sitting on a gurney in the hallway of the abandoned wing of the hospital. 

“Old habits die hard,” Dorian said with a smirk, and gestured for her to sit in empty space beside him. 

“Gods, this takes me back to first year when we all would eat down here,” she said, hoisting herself up on the forgotten piece of equipment. She proceeded to open her own packed lunch, a tuna wrap with carrot sticks.

“Let me guess, your reason for avoiding our common area is the same as mine?”

They locked eyes, and said in synchrony, “Anders.” 

Dorian cackled. 

He fished a carrot stick out of her bag for himself before saying, “Honestly, I don’t know what we all saw in him. It ends the same way for everyone. You can’t fix him, no matter how hard you try,” he bit into the carrot stick with a loud crunch, “but at least it’s Hawke this time, and not a new intern. Maybe she will finally knock some sense into him.”

Anders was a brilliant doctor, one of the best neurosurgeons in the nation if not the best. He turned down multiple offers from hospitals all around the country before settling at the Ferelden teaching hospital. But his personal life was a total mess wrought with commitment issues, and he was constantly getting in over his head with the medical board with his fiery attitude and unorthodox approach to medicine (which was not necessarily always a bad thing, and definitely something that had drawn Anise to him in the first place, but his sometimes he just skirted the lines of what was ethical). Anise had made the mistake of getting involved with him shortly after starting her internship (as did Dorian) but quickly realized Anders was… a lot to say the least, and she politely ended things. To her surprise (and relief) he was understanding. They got along much better as colleagues than they did as lovers, anyway. Anise vowed never to date another doctor at her hospital moving forward. She was much more content to over hear gossip, than be the reason for the gossip.

And then, there was Hawke--their fellow resident, good friend, and ruthless rival. She was a handful, too. Equally as fiery, passionate, always managed to make everything a competition, and went tit for tat with Anders. He may have finally met his match. It didn’t surprise Anise they were sleeping together, or that they were airing out their dirty laundry in the resident lounge at this very moment. Something she had walked in on in her effort to get her lunch.

They had both stopped yelling and stared at her, mortified at the fact they had gotten caught. She had given them a painfully awkward wave before zipping over to the fridge, snagging her lunch, and darting out of the lounge in under ten seconds.

Their fighting resumed before the door had even shut on her way out.

“Let’s hope only metaphorically, Anders has a surgery this evening, and I’m getting to scrub in and perform the craniotomy.” She stuck her tongue out at Dorian’s envious expression.

“Brat. Does Hawke know about this?”

Anise rolled her eyes, “If I were to hedge a guess, it’s what started their fight.”

As she bit into her wrap, her phone vibrated in her pocket. When she checked it, she promptly choked.

[Vhenan]

Will you let me take you out to dinner this Friday? 

Schedule permitting, of course

[1:13pm]

Friday. 

As in The Fourteenth of February. 

As in, Valentine's Day.

“Best steer clear of Hawke for the rest of the day then. Otherwise she might just knock you instead.”

“Hah..ha,” Anise replied weakly, eyes still glued to her phone. Her brain, temporarily out of order.

Solas wanted to take her out.

On the national holiday for couples. 

Granted, he had taken her out before, but that had been more casual, and hadn’t felt as exclusive. From the outside, they could have just been good friends dancing together, grabbing a bite afterwards. People did that all the time. 

(Well, he did kiss her, but no one had been around to witness it, so therefore it didn’t technically count, or so she tried to rationalize.)  

 That date also had been before they started sleeping together…before he called her vhenan... 

A wave of heat rolled up her neck, burning the tips of her ears. She had been too cowardly to bring up what he had said to her in his sleep filled haze the day after the last time they had slept together. Their snow day together had been too picture perfect, and she didn’t want to chance ruining it. She spent the entirety of the day on top of him on her couch (they had switched apartments for Loki’s sake). And when they weren’t alternating between their favorite movies… they engaged in other forms of entertainment.

[Anise]

I believe my shift ends at 5 next Friday--if you don’t mind having a little bit of a later dinner, I would love to join you

[1:20pm]

[Vhenan]

I do not, I’ll make the arrangements.

[1:20pm]

[Anise]

Nothing too fancy!! You’ve seen my laundry, I only own scrubs and that one dress

[1:21pm]

[Vhenan]

It is done.

[1:22pm]

“Who’s Vhenan?”

Anise nearly jumped out of her skin and almost dropped her phone on the floor.

“Dorian,” she chided, shoving him hard, and scrambling to send off one more text.

[Anise]

No presents! And we go halfsies 

[1:22pm]

“It’s your fault you made no effort to hide your screen.  I’ve been talking to you this whole time and you’ve so carelessly ignored me. I had to know who was more important than your very best friend.”

“Absolutely no one.” Anise tucked her phone safely back into the privacy of her pocket.

“Darling Anise, we both know that’s bullshit.”

It was at that moment the door to the hall bust wide open, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoed like a gunshot, startling both Anise and Dorian.

“Oh fuck,” Hawke’s horrified face was quickly covered by her hands, sending tufts of her pixie cut jet black hair to stick out at even odder angles than they normally did, “and here I thought I could escape today for one fucking second.” 

Dorian and Anise exchanged a quick glance and said together, “Old habits die hard,” 

Dorian shifted further down the gurney, as did Anise, leaving space for one more body. Anise gestured to Hawke to take the spot, and offered her a carrot stick. Hawke made a disgusted noise but took the seat, and carrot stick, anyway. It looked like she might snap it in half. She fell into an awkward, tenuous silence beside Anise, who suddenly became very interested in the tuna of her wrap, taking small nibbles and examining the bite marks she left behind.  

Finally, at long last Hawke said, “I can’t scrub in with Anders anymore.”

“Because you’re sleeping with him?”

Hawke shot Dorian a dark look. “I’m dating him, asshole.”

Anise paused mid bite, “Wait… like…?”

“Like, it’s official, All-Spice,” she quipped at Anise using that stupid nickname that speech pathlogist gave her that Hawke hung around with. Apparently, he gave everyone nicknames. “We went to the Chief, came clean, and everything. Anders had to speak privately with Viv for like an hour.” Hawke rubbed her face. “And then he comes back and tells me that I no longer am allowed to scrub in with him anymore.”

“I mean, that makes sense,” Dorian said, which was clearly the wrong thing to say to Hawke, earning him another, darker, glare as she chomped down on her carrot stick.

“Fuck you,” Hawke said with her mouth full, pausing to swallow before continuing, “I know that. I still get to be upset about it.”

“Valid,” Anise said, taking another small bite of her wrap.

“Sure, but you don’t have to scream about it,” Dorian retorted.

“Also, valid point,” Anise commented, covering her mouth with a hand as she chewed.

“Fine, you’re right. Sorry,” Hawke sighed, shoulders rising and falling dramatically. “And I’m also sorry for what you walked in on, Anise. I want it to be clear, I didn’t mean to sound like I was angry at you. I’m not. I just let--”

The door to the hall opened again, with considerably less banging this time, but all three residents snapped to attention as they saw who stepped through.

“The Witch,” Dorian hissed.

The Chief Resident’s expression soured.

“I heard that, Dorian,” she drawled, “why is it that when I need a competent resident, the three of you are nowhere to be found. Incoming abdominal gunshot wound, no exit, OR three.”

All of them immediately jumped up, pushing each other out the way to stand before Morrigan, Dorian and Anise shoving their lunches haphazardly back into their packs as Hawke edged them out.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Lavellan, you have a surgery tonight, you’re out.”

Anise didn’t fight it, given the circumstances, and quietly stepped back.

“Hawke with me. You look like you need it.”

“What,” Dorian protested, gesturing flippantly at Hawke, “how is that the basis of your decision?”

“Dorian, you suck up to every attending, you’ll find a surgery to scrub into before I make it back to the OR floor.”

Hawke’s amber eyes sparkled as she flipped off Dorian when Morrigan had her back turned. Dorian returned the gesture with equal flair. 

“Remind me why we’re friends with her again,” Dorian asked, after they were gone.

“Because she’s a pariah like us, and you do actually like her as a person, flaws and all.”

Dorian grumbled something in Tevine under his breath, slumping back down onto the gurney. “And remind me why I’m friends with you, when you won’t even tell me all the interesting bits of your life?”

Anise sighed.

If she started telling Dorian about Solas, it would mean someone else would know, which would make it all the more real.

It really didn’t take her that long to decide.

“Okay, but you have to promise me not to laugh and call me crazy,” Anise warned, and Dorian’s face lit up, “but it started with my kitten and my neighbor’s boxer briefs…”

***

The restaurant was one of those scratch kitchen types, where everything was locally sourced and organic. It had a rustic feel to it that reminded her of home the moment they sat down at their booth, surrounded by plants and large glass windows. Surprisingly, it was comfortably warm. She had shrugged off her winter coat, but kept on the black blazer she had dug out of her closet that she hadn’t worn since she graduated medical school, and was happy to know it still fit perfectly. She had gone with a floral turtleneck underneath with a pair of tight jeans and ankle boots. Not too fancy, but still dressed up. He had worn something similar in fashion, a pair of nice jeans, a green sweater, and sport coat over top.

It was surreal. To be out, with him, clearly as a couple. Her heart hadn’t stopped fluttering since he took her hand when they left their apartment complex.

She hadn’t meant to talk about work, or make Solas talk about work, knowing how bringing it up seemed to ruin his mood. But when he asked about how the surgery with Anders she was able to scrub in on went, the incident with Hawke naturally came up, and suddenly she was discussing work. 

“I’m sorry, I’m monopolizing the conversation. I would ask you about your week, but I get the impression it wasn’t any better than the last.”

“You would be correct in that assumption,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I managed to avoid the C.E.O for most of it. One awkward elevator ride was all I had to endure. Luckily, in silence.” 

Even with that simple statement, she could see the tension set in his shoulders. “Let’s not talk about work anymore.”

He peered over his steepled hands at her. “What would you like us to talk about, Anise?”

Anise ran her tongue over her teeth and thought for a second. “I want to learn more about you. So let’s play a game.”

Solas’ brows arched. “What kind of game do you have in mind?”

“You try to make an assumption about me. If you’re right, I drink. If you’re wrong, you drink. And vice versa.”

He chuckled. “Where did you learn this game?”

“Med school. We had to find some way to cope,” she said with a laugh of her own.

“You might want to order a second glass of wine before we start.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you think I’ll only make wrong assumptions, and you’ll only ever make right ones?”

“Indeed, I do.”

Anise rolled her neck. “Game on. I’ll go first. Your favorite color is green.”

“You went for something easy.” Solas took a generous sip of his wine. “What gave it away?”

Anise grinned. “Your sweater. Your ties are mostly green. Your socks have intricate green patterns on them. Your briefcase is a very dark green, almost black if you’re not looking close enough. But your sweater tonight really sealed the deal for me.”

“Astute observations. Then let me counter with this, your favorite color is blue.”

“Guilty.” Anise blushed behind her glass of wine, and took a sip. “I’ll bite. How’d you know?”

It was Solas’ turn to smile. “Your bedsheets are blue. As is the accent wall in your bedroom. The gift wrap you covered my wintersend gift in. Most of your scrubs are light blue, though this could be required at your hospital, but I took the risk.”

There were also two very obvious reasons, she wasn’t about to admit to as she gazed into them. 

“Only attendings have a specific uniform color, and its navy ironically.”

Their dinner arrived after that, but they continued their little game even after their drinks were finished, using water instead until they ordered a second glass each. Solas guessed Anise had broken bones as a kid--she drank, she had broken two in her arm when she was four years old, and was religious--he drank, which prompted a long philosophical conversation about the elven gods and their teachings in which he was surprised to find she wasn’t religious, or spiritual, at all. That she viewed them more as lessons in morals more than anything. Anise soon learned, after a few more wrong guesses, Solas hated plums, but not as much as tea, loved to read research articles, if only to critique their methodology and sample size, and to her greatest surprise, had been arrested twice before the age of eighteen.

Anise finished off the last of her ravioli, and asked, “For what?”

“Disorderly conduct, and Trespassing,” Solas said, pusing around some of the vegetables on his plate, “I was very misguided in my youth.”

“I remember you saying that. My my, what a troublemaker you turned out to be,” she teased.

His lips twisted into that half smile she loved so much. As he studied her from across the table, setting aside his cutlery and dish, her stomach did flips. “You are the youngest child.”

Anise took a sip of her wine. “Youngest of three.”

“All girls?”

Anise shook her head triumphantly, “Only girl.” Solas took a sip of his. 

“I have two older brothers. One is in law enforcement, the other is in a metal band.”

“Metal band? Diverse interests in your family.”

“Hah, you don’t even know what my father does for a living.”

Solas did that deep stare again. There was silence for a beat, then he said, “Politician.”

“Damnit,” Anise whispered, taking another sip.

Solas eyes lit up with a realization. “Is he--?”

“The Dalish politician, yes, yes, the one and only,” Anise rolled her eyes rather dramatically, feeling the wine settling in, “kind of obvious. Know how I mentioned in the past my family was busy with legal matters in Wycome? Well, I’m sure you saw recently on the news, the Dalish settlement in the Free Marches was officially recognized as a historical site and can no longer be bought or demolished, because of his advocacy and support from Wycome residents who rallied.”

“I did, it’s incredible what he has done for the history of his people.”

‘I agree.  They are in the process of creating a museum to preserve the artifacts and culture from the ancient Dalish in the city. The land will remain untouched and essentially become a nature preserve with trails and historical markers. He keeps saying I have to visit once everything settles down and it’s opened to the public.”

The waitress came around to collect their plates and ask if they wanted dessert. The answer was obviously yes, as if Solas could ever say no to anything sweet. It was entertaining to watch his face light up over a simple frilly cake. 

“I do believe it's your turn,” he said, licking icing off his fork. 

That was… distracting.

Anise recovered, tips of her ears burning, “You’re an only child.”

Solas stared off at the space behind her quizzically. “What happens when someone does not know how to respond to a statement, do we both drink?”

“I’ve never encountered that kind of situation before playing this game,” Anise admitted.

“To answer your question, I do not know if I have biological siblings. I don’t remember my biological parents. I was placed into foster care in Arlathan when I was very young. I met kindred spirits there, people I would have considered siblings, at the time.”

“I would say they absolutely count.”

He nodded, and drank. While doing so he dug out his phone, scrolled through it for a moment, before smiling, a true smile, and catching her eyes again. “You must not laugh.” He held out his phone.

Anise raised a brow. “No promises without context,” she said, accepting his phone and turning her attention to the picture he had left up. 

“Oh, my gods,” her hand quickly shot to her mouth before she could let a giggle escape. “This is you. You have hair. How old are you here? This is… your friend that took you dancing?”

“Seventeen. And yes, that’s her. Her name was Sage. I met her while in the boarding school the state sent me to. Scroll if you want to see more.”

The picture was of two teenagers in school uniforms, standing in the middle of a city street. Solas clearly the younger of the two, with messy brown hair that just barely glinted red in the sunlight. The girl beside him had a shock of green hair that fell just below her chin. One of her arms slung around his neck, laughing at him, as he flipped off whoever was holding the camera.

The next one was Solas eating a cupcake in a dorm room, or to more accurately describe it, having a cupcake shoved into his face by Sage, who had icing on her nose already. The third was an action shot of them dancing. They got a little older every couple photos or so. At the bottom she realized the photos belonged to a memorial album he had on Facebook. While she was busy admiring photos of Solas’ over the years she had not known him, and tearing up as she realized what he had given her, a piece of his past, he had paid for their date. 

Sneaky.

“Hey wait, that’s not fair,” she said, returning his phone and standing up, “you baited me.”

“I did.” He pressed a quick kiss to her temple and helped her into her coat. 

***

The moment they made it into the lobby of their apartment complex, they were inseparable. In their favor it was empty, and the elevator was theirs alone. How they got that lucky, she didn’t know. What she did know was how badly he wanted her, evident with each pass of his tongue as it pushed past her lips. How his hands slipped under her shirt and roamed her stomach sending heat sliding down her spine to pool in her core. How the elevator brought them to their floor all too soon. 

They stood in front of his apartment, her back pressed against his door with clothes entirely wrinkled and lungs breathless, torn between not wanting to stop but also wanting to move inside. She chased his lips as he pulled away to take out his key, but landed on his neck. She continued to kiss him as the lock clicked open. He groaned as her teeth grazed his pressure point, the fingers of his free hand digging into her hip. As the door swung inward, she grabbed a fist full of his shirt and pulled him across the threshold.

“I thought you might want to come back after,” he said between kisses, stripping themselves of their outer layers once the door had closed securely behind them. “Bathroom,” he instructed, nudging her with his nose to her cheek to get her to turn in that direction. 

Her bra was shed somewhere between the entryway and his bedroom, leaving her only in jeans. She didn’t want to break their connection, but when she stepped into the bathroom what she saw demanded her full attention. Candles and flowers in petite mason jars lined the tub and sink counter. And a bath bomb on the lid of the toilet seat, still in its packaging. Her heart throbbed.

Oh. He remembered I liked those.

The strike of a match brought her focus back to him. He went to grab one of the candles, but Anise got between him and his target, blowing out the lit match. She took the box from him and tossed it somewhere on top of the toilet without breaking his gaze. Her mouth was on the skin of his neck a second later, backing him up against the wall. Nipping and sucking with a couple little  harder bites in between, her tongue caressing spots she had marked him. But when his fingers slid into her hair and clenched, it sent a sharp twinge of pain across her scalp making her moan. 

“Mm, interesting,” he said, licking along her bottom lip.

It would have taken way more self-control than she had to to resist the impulse to roll her hips into him, and as she did she was rewarded with feeling the hard press of his erection against her hip through his jeans. It sent a current through her, making her throb between her legs.

His fingers curled into the waistline of her unzippered jeans, yanking them, and her lacy underwear down her thighs. It took a little effort as they clung tightly to her thighs, but eventually he wrestled her out of them. He managed to get his pants off with one fluid movement, and had her against the counter in a heartbeat, the cold stone biting into her lower back, his mouth slating against hers.

He lifted her with no effort, setting her atop the counter space, spreading her legs wide open. His fingers raced along the inside of her thigh, finding her clit and starting a steady and slow rhythm that had her writhing in what seemed like no time at all. He pulled away and lazily dragging his fingers aroud the lips of her sex, taking a sharp breath at wet she had become. 

“Anise,” he groaned, sliding a finger inside her. 

She gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he moved within her. One finger soon became two, and she bit her lip to stop from mewling as they curled in just the right cadence that set her nerves on fire. How he had memorized her body, and the way she liked to be touched so quickly was beyond her. When she couldn’t hold it back anymore, she let a whine escape in the form of his name. He removed his fingers just before she could tip over the edge he had brought her to. Some part of her brain realized she was so wet she was dripping onto his counter, but she quite couldn’t bring herself to care. He pulled her hips forward, bringing her to the edge so he could angle himself to take her. 

And take her he did.

Her back arched as he smoothly thrust up and in, her head pressing into the mirror behind her. Her legs curled around his waist at the pleasurable stretch she felt as he filled her, pinning him there against her. The other hand wound its way back into the tresses of her hair, spilling out between his fingers as they scraped along her scalp. He twisted her hair sharply, forcing a blissful cry from her mouth into his, which he devoured greedily, and only encouraged him to fuck her harder. With each snap of his hips his grip in her hair tightened, the tension in her pulling taut until she broke, clenching around his cock in such powerful waves she couldn’t help herself from riding against him. He barely pulled out in time to finish on her stomach. They remained as they were, her legs wrapped around his waist, ass on the counter, foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath. 

“We did this out of order,” he said, his breathless laughter dancing on her cheek, “Bath first, then sex, was the intention.”

She hummed blithely,  “I have no regrets.”

He released his hold on her hair, tucking several loose strands behind her ear, and laid a soft kiss on her temple before pulling out of her embrace. He cleaned his mess off her, and then himself while she wiped down the counter. Through some unspoken agreement, he went to draw the bath and she attended to the candles.

Finally, they sunk into the blessedly warm water, Solas first then Anise. Unable to contain her excitement, she unwrapped the blue bath bomb, and dropped it into the water with a very quiet, noise of delight. An explosion of blue and purple spread like smoke beneath the water as the scent of jasmine rose to greet her. 

“Thank you,” she said, settling in against his chest, enjoying the way the heat of water made his body a cool relief at her back in comparison. An inky twilight surrounded their limbs, making anything underneath invisible to the depths of its color.

He laced his fingers through her own resting on his knee above the water, and squeezed.

For some reason, that simple gesture, that subtle contact, overwhelmed her. Her vision swam as the too familiar sting of tears rushed to the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it in. It wasn’t sadness, no that was a raw, hollow aching feeling that suffocated you until you could feel no more.

This… this was different. This was overwhelming, and in the best way imaginable. Like taking a breath for the first time after not being able to breathe, like lungs so full of fresh air  it sent racing through her veins straight to her heart in a sweet release. 

Am I really that lonely?

Or…is this…?

She knew the answer. Had known the answer for a while now, but refused to let it surface. At least, until... 

“Solas,” she whispered.

He drew his free hand out of the water to caress her arm. “Yes, Anise.”

“Did you mean it?” She swallowed, her throat suddenly thick. “Did you mean it when you called me vhenan?”

He let go of her hand, and tugged on her to turn around. She hesitated for a moment, realizing he was going to see her crying but obliged, twisting her torso to face him.  His furrowed brows that softened when he saw her expression. He cupped her face with both hands, the water from the bath mixing with the tears on her cheeks as he stroked her face with his thumbs. 

His ever steady eyes bore into her own as he leaned in and whispered, “I meant it,” before closing and capturing her in a kiss. “Vhenan,” he said against her lips, kissing her in such a way she felt dizzy when he finally broke from her mouth to pass over her eyes, whispering “vhenan,” over each one, before coming to rest on her forehead. 

“Ar lath ma.”