#ara lavellan

[pinkfey]

sweetest sophie @shadowglens tagged me to make some elf ocs in this adorable meiker!! tysm beloved mwah !!

ARA’NA ┆ EMELIN ┆ ATALANTA ┆ JAEL

tagging: @gelvaan @saintjudegf @kymal @narshadda @devilbrakers @aartyom @brujah @celticwoman @jendoe @merry-harlowe @rosykims @druidgroves @risingsh0t @cultistbase @calenhads @cybilbennettgf @aelyosos @lavinet @morvaris @swordcoasts @statichvm @pentaghast @necroticpetals @sylkana and you!!!!!

[reagan-the-saunders]

can we talk for a moment about how rook can greet the inquisitor if both are elves?

rook will say this;

"andaran atish'an" is considered a formal elven greeting

and lavellan will respond with

and "aneth ara" is not only considered an INFORMAL greeting but is also almost strictly used by the dalish amongst themselves

while lavellan is of course dalish - and rook can be too (? or at least you could headcanon? idk it feels odd to have a vallaslin and not be dalish lol) - my rook is a city elf (while that's not a set character option like in, say, origins, she bears no vallaslin and is kinda implied to be a city elf, not dalish, in the rest of the game)

of course it does make total sense for someone, even rook, to greet the inquisitor formally, them being you know the world's saviour and a person of prestige either way, even if the inquisition was disbanded (which was the case in my run here)

but something about lavellan responding "casually" is quite funny to me lol

[vir-bellanaris]

Solavellan Wedding (?)

She trailed her fingers over his face, tracing them around the plush curve of his lips. Devotion swelled within her spirit, filling the rotunda to twice its original size.  The Fade responded to the electric emotions between them, hard stone beneath their feet softened to lush carpet as Lavellan brushed her mouth against his.

Lavellan then began to murmur in soft elvish to him, an echo of the vow she had made before the sundering Veil with Morrigan and Rook bearing witness. Words she had heard spoken at the matrimonial celebrations held by her people, binding two souls together.  Only this time with a slight variation.

“Fen’harel enaste var shiral. Lama, ara las mir lath. Bellanaris.”

Though the elvish was broken, the impact of implication still hit against Solas with the force of swelling magic.  His breath froze within his lungs as he drank in the determination on her face.

There was no hesitation. 

He leaned his forehead down against hers, his eyes stinging with unshed tears as he murmured reverently an echo of what she had once promised him. “Var lath vir suledin, ma’salath.”

When their lips met, Lavellan experienced a sensation both of pleasure and discomfort.  It was as though her spirit would escape the bonds of her body once more, this time forever to be merged to his own.

His arms wrapped around her, the room continuing to transform around them as they embraced, locked together in a binding promise of both flesh and ether

Sneak peak of my next chapter to To Where Your Soul Travels, There Go I - Chapter 1 - MysticAwareness - Dragon Age: Inquisition [Archive of Our Own]

I'll post full thing tomorrow! And yes, I did make up for cockblocking yall twice ;)

[gaysparkler]

Ara Ma'Athlan Vhenas

Yes okay it's my turn to post Solavellan. I'm late to the party but it was going to happen eventually... Read on AO3 Title from the lullaby "Mir Da'Len Somniar" Nialen Lavellan is non-binary and uses she/they interchangeably!

They must have been at this for well over an hour at that point, long enough for the sun to begin its descent and dip into the horizon. Nialen had enough physical strength and energy to keep running after that damned halla in rocky terrain all day, but she wasn’t sure about her companions—notably, Dorian had complained a few times already about rocks in his boots and flies refusing to leave him alone. Nialen only had eyes for the golden fur ahead of them.

“Why don’t we just kill it?” Iron Bull whispered during a short break for everyone to catch their breaths a moment.

“Hanal'ghilan is sacred,” Nialen hissed back before stretching a bit and resuming their jog. “You can go back to camp if you wish.”

“Oh, thank the Maker,” Dorian sighed. “Be careful, and all that.”

Iron Bull chose to follow him, but Solas remained with her, and her heart beat faster, not just because of their running—which if they were not currently doing, Nialen would have reached for his hand. In any other circumstance, this would have been quite a romantic affair, but as it was, she was growing somewhat frustrated and tired, and though they did enjoy Solas’ company, it would have been more enjoyable if they hadn’t spent a ridiculous amount of time chasing a stubborn halla who refused to be herded. Still, Solas kept up, and did not complain.

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this,” Solas’ voice appeared right by their ear, warm and teasing. Nialen could practically hear its accompanying smile.

“I’m a hunter,” she said as she brushed away a lock of hair that escaped from her braid. She could feel Solas’ eyes on her, following the movement of her hand.

“Is this not like a hunt?”

They turned their head to glare at him, and there was that wicked and lovely smile, the one she always looked at a little too long, this time enough to lose track of Hanal'ghilan—again. She swore under her breath and picked up the pace and followed its tracks until she could see it once more, its fur almost glowing under the setting sun. Over the tall rocks was the orange and red sails of the aravels. Just some more gentle coaxing, and—

“I can track, which I have done, since we found what we were looking for. I never said I could shepherd. There’s a reason I wear Andruil’s vallaslin and not Ghilan’nain’s.”

For a second, a deep sadness veiled Solas’ eyes, but it was gone before they could reach for him, or ask about it, or anything at all. It was around the same time that they finally reached the Dalish camp, Hanal'ghilan well ahead of them, already settling with the clan’s herd. Nialen took Solas’ hand, now that she could. It seemed to surprise him for a second, but again, that look quickly vanished from his features. Nialen deliberately bumped into his shoulder, which he did as well, keeping their fingers intertwined.

“Ma serannas,” she said. “For staying.”

His smile was kind, but the sadness was not fully out of his eyes. Perhaps it would never truly leave. Nialen could only tighten their grip on his hand, for now.

“Of course, Vhenan.”

There was that word again, from his mouth, setting her heart ablaze, and it still felt so surreal to her. She leaned closer, hoping for a kiss, and he obliged, dipping his head down to press his lips to hers. When they parted, Nialen noticed that Solas’ eyes lingered on her vallaslin. On their walk back to camp, they couldn’t help to think of Solas’ lack of one, despite his knowledge of their culture—

“You have done a lot of good today,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “Helping them.”

“I couldn’t—” they stammered. “It hurt when Keeper Hawen said he couldn’t trust me. Like I wanted this title. The shems decided I was their god’s chosen.”

Solas wrapped his arms around them. “These names are never kind.”

“No.” Nialen tucked their head under Solas’ chin. “I was happy to do this. Even herding Hanal'ghilan, annoying as it was. It felt like I was back home.”

Solas hummed in her hair and rubbed her back in their embrace. His hands were cold.

“You must be tired,” Solas gently led her the rest of the way to their camp. “Come, I will help you with your braids.”

Nialen followed Solas to their tent, which recently had become shared. With a quick flick of his hand, the small lantern in the corner flickered alight. After shedding their armour and weapons, they sat cross-legged together on their bedrolls, Nialen’s back to Solas, who deftly began to unravel her tightly braided hair—a ritual they both came to relish. Solas’ cold fingers were a balm against Nialen’s scalp as he meticulously untangled the curls at their root before separating them in strands and re-braiding them in a simpler fashion for sleep. Nialen had only shown him once, but he seemed to remember every detail of the routine perfectly.

Now done, Solas ran his hands down Nialen’s back, settled them at their waist, and leaned forward to hook his chin on their shoulder. Nialen reacted in kind by pressing her cheek against his.

“Thank you, Vhenan,” she said quietly, as to not disturb the peace in their tent, purposefully using the name Solas had given her—not all were kind, but this one was. Solas slid his arms around their midsection and pressed himself close. Outside, crickets chirped their tune, the Inquisition field agents on their watch paced and whispered stories of their day to each other, and a not-so trained ear could pick up the Iron Bull’s snoring.

“Sleep, then?” Solas asked, as quiet as them, his voice low in their ear.

Nialen just hummed against him. For a moment, in the dim light of the tent, surrounded by nature, it was like they were home again.

[woodcries]

PERMANENT STARTER CALL MASTERLIST

please like these if you are interested in writing with a muse, it's easier for me to track than an interest tracker. feel free to unlike later.

SHIP CALL EDITION: coming soon

A

aahana (dungeons and dragons)

ada wong

aerith gainsborough

albert fink

alcryst (fire emblem: engage)

alex stern

alice (cam)

alice (rune factory 5)

alice wake

amber (fandomless oc)

amelie pearlcrest

ami mizuno

amita (far cry 4)

anais lavellan

andy molina

anne-marie / rogue (marvel)

angela ziegler / mercy

ann takamaki

annie edison

anya / kamui (fire emblem: fates)

ara fusilli

archie (borderlands)

arwen grimsdottir

arri trevelyan

ashley seaver

ashlyn (barbie and the 12 dancing princesses)

atlas neredras

atsuko / paprika (paprika)

audrey windsor

austin (criminal minds)

aya drevis

TUMBLR HATES ME, FIND THE REST HERE.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Harellan - All New, Faded for Her

Read on AO3

The dream had been impossible to rid from his mind. He’d spent countless hours trying to forget what it was to feel Lavellan's spirit leave her body like a waning candle.

Solas tried to forget the words from that Dalish lullaby too, but the only thing he succeeded in doing was drawing lost spirits towards his abode, filling their porous architectures with the things that burdened him, making them soak up the words of the lullaby whenever they’d get close to his anguish.

“Ma vhen’an, ara ma'desen melar. Ma garas mir renan. Ara ma'athlan vhenas. Don’t slip away into the dark. Ven arla'iseth el. Ara ma'athlan vhenas,” would be sung by an endless charade of spirits.

Some in guilt, some in despair, some in madness and laughter.

Over and over and over.

The melancholy that wrapped like a noose around his neck had been greying.

[samcadoodles]

Redraw of an old character protrait!!

Ara Lavellan for my friend Nyx

[csphire]

Ara Ma'athlan Vhenas

Commissioned Artwork by LadyTheirin (Her Tumblr is here.)

Female Inquisitor Lavellan / Solas Fen'Harel (Dragon Age) Words: 2,821

Why would anyone draw a child's mind so deep into the Fade to, of all things, play? To seek the answer, Solas finally breaks a promise to himself to sever all contact with his Vhenan. But after reaching out to her and the boy he is left with only more questions.

[heniareth]

Inquisitor as a Companion: Banter

MARELAS OF CLAN ELNORA (ORIGINALLY LAVELLAN)

From the template of dextronoms (original here)

Voice:

Marelas tends to speak quietly and gently, with his voice coming either from his chest or his throat. He enunciates clearly and his voice is warm. He can sing very well, but you will never get to hear it; he's too shy for that. Still, there is a rhythm and a tempo to the way he speaks. Sometimes, it sounds a bit like he's performing theater

Cole’s reflection on their thoughts:

Cole: "Cold, ice and darkness, whirling water all around. It pushes, pulls, presses into-"

Marelas: "Cole, please. This is not helping."

Cole: "It's alright. You don't have to fear the water forever. I can help."

Marelas: (gently) "You are speaking out loud, and dragging me back into that moment, Cole. That is not helping. It's quite violent, in fact."

Cole: "I... it is?

Marelas: "I understand that you didn’t mean to. But if you truly want to help someone, speak to them when you two are alone. Offer your help and detail the kind of help you want to give first. Then let them choose if they want to accept it or not. Don't just jump in."

Cole: "That is better?"

Marelas: "For the big hurts, it is. You can keep hiding the daggers of drunk soldiers, though."

Cole: "But the death I'm avoiding there is not a small hurt!"

Marelas: "That's true. But the help that you offer brings only a small hurt. Talking out loud about other people's painful memories and forcing them to accept help is a much bigger hurt than a lost dagger."

Cole: "I... don't know if I understand. But..."

Marelas: "You can feel our distress. You will learn which of the things you do to help cause more or less hurt. Keep an eye on that."

Cole: "Yes... I will."

Comment(s) on Mages:

(entreating) “Inquisitor, look closely. This is no camp. This is a refuge.”

“No food storage, no tents. Magic can make for warmth when the nights are cold, but these conditions are unlivable in even for a mage.”

Comment(s) on Templars:

(very faintly bitter) “They say mages are dangerous. Are they any better?”

(shocked) “They dragged this poor girl all the way here...”

When looking for something:

"What's that? Inquisitor, moment have a look around?"

"I think taking a closer look might get us something interesting."

When finding a campsite:

“This should do. What do you think?”

“It’s getting late. How about setting up camp?”

“My feet would appreciate some rest. Shall we set up camp?”

"If we make camp now, I might be able to finish that translation I was working on."

When the Inquisitor Falls:

“Inquisitor! Hold on!”

“Cover the Inquisitor!"

If he is friends with a non-elvhen Inquisitor:

"Stay with us, my friend!"

If he is friends with an elvhen Inquisitor:

"Rem syla, lethallin/lethallan!" (Hold on to life, my friend)

If he is in a romance with the Inquisitor:

"Ma vhenan! No!"

(frantic) "Stay awake! Stay awake!"

When they are low on health:

"I need help!"

(groaned) "Mythal las'halani." (Mythal, grant [me] help)

(whimper) "Falon'Din ulielas'el." (Falon'Din, have mercy)

(weak, disjointed) "Falon'Din, Lethanavir..." (beginning of a prayer for the dead to Falon'Din. The full translated prayer can be found here)

When they see a Dragon:

(quietly, in awe) "Mythal ulielas'el!"

"The dragons are just coming back, do we really have to... of course we have to."

When during their small side quest:

"Do we have a moment to take a closer look at this?"

(in quiet awe) "Look at these colors! The symbology! Just one minute, please!"

"I'm so close to figuring out the meaning of these symbols, I just need one more quick look."

Default saying (when you want to talk to them in Skyhold, how do they respond?):

"Hello, Inquisitor."

"Anything I can help with?"

"How are things going?"

"Inquisitor! How are you?"

If the Inquisitor is an elf:

"Aneth ara, amae'len." (Hello, fellow elf [one-who-i-recognize]. It's not a cheeky thing, it's just that lethallin/lethallan/lethallen seems to be reserved for friends and I wanted something similar but more geared towards acquanitances of coworkers)

When greeting a low-approval Inquisitor:

"One moment, please."

(polite, formal) "To what do I owe this visit?"

(hesitant) "I'm afraid I'm a bit busy..."

(undercurrent of fear or annoyance) "Something the matter?"

When greeting a friend:

"Hello, my friend."

(genuine) "It's good to see you."

(happy) "You found time to come by! How good."

If the Inquisitor is an elf:

(warmly) "Creators watch your path, lethallin/lethallan/lethallen."

If he is in a romance with the Inquisitor:

(softly) "Nehn'alas, ma vhenan." (You bring joy, my heart)

(happy) "Ma'latha. I missed you."

(cheeky) "Looking for me, vhenan?"

Travel Banter with Canon Companions of your choice:

Marelas: "Cassandra, I had a... well, actually, nevermind."

Cassandra: "What is it?"

Marelas: "I had a question, but I realize it's... highly likely to be insensitive. Apologies."

Cassandra: "I'm in a good mood. What was it about?"

Marelas: "Well... You believe the Maker has abandoned this world, yes?"

Cassandra: "You wish to know how we believe in an absent god? I thought your gods were absent as well."

Marelas: "They were banished. There is a difference between being forced to leave and leaving voluntarily."

Cassandra: "That we can agree on. But it's not true that the Maker abandoned us entirely. He still hears our prayers. He may grant you His favor."

Marelas: "You, individually?"

Cassandra: "Yes, like He did with Andraste, speaking in very general terms. Do your gods not prefer some individuals over others?"

Marelas: (Brief pause) "Individuals may prefer or fear one of the Creators over the other. But the Creators as a whole guide the People as a whole, as well as the individual people who make them up."

Cassandra: "And what if two elves are opposed to one another? Or two factions of your people?"

Marelas: (not quite sure where this is going) "Then one is in the wrong and one is in the right, although those two usually tend to blend and mix."

Cassandra: "Your Creators do not choose sides and show one greater favor?"

Marelas: "That depends what either side is fighting for."

Cassandra: "But one was right and one was wrong!"

Marelas: "As I said, those two tend to blend very heavily. And to state that the Creators are interested in right or wrong is not entirely true. It is... more complicated than that."

Friendship?: (what they call the PC if they are friends or the dialog)

"When I first arrived in Haven I had little hopes of finding a friendly face in the Inquisition. Thank you for taking me in. Thank you for trusting me. I am honored to call you my friend."

Leaving the Inquisition (what do they say or do if the approval is low enough for them to leave?):

Before they leave, Marelas will confront the Inquisitor, express his wish to leave and ask them if they will allow him to take his notes with him. Depending on the direction the conversation takes, there are several possible outcomes:

1) The Inquisitor doesn’t allow Marelas to take his research notes and convinces him to stay to keep an eye on how they are used. Marelas agrees, albeit reluctantly.

2) The Inquisitor allows Marelas to leave with his research notes. They part on more or less amiable terms.

3) The Inquisitor doesn’t allow Marelas to leave with his research OR doesn’t allow Marelas to leave at all. In this case, Marelas waits until the Inquisitor leaves, then packs as much of his research as he can carry and makes a run for it. The Inquisitor decides if they let him go or try to follow him. If they try to follow him, they will enter combat. The Inquisitor will defeat Marelas, and will have the opportunity to submit him to judgement. As a result of the judgement, the Inquisitor may a) execute him, b) imprison him, c) make him tranquil and have him work for the Inquisition or d) release him without his research notes.

If Marelas is executed or made tranquil, Hawen’s clan in the Exalted Plains disappears and the Inquisitor is unable to access Din’an Hanin if the area has remained unexplored.

If Marelas has been imprisoned, his Keeper will ask the Inquisitor to release Marelas to them in a war table mission. Josephine suggests asking the Dalish for something of value in return. Leliana advises to keep Marelas as leverage. Cullen argues that entering a potential conflict with the Dalish over one elf is not worth their time or resources and suggests to return Marelas without further conditions. Taking Josephine's route will garner the Inquisition a new and unique rune. Clan Elnora's Keeper states: "We value our knowledge, but one of the People will always take precedent. I trust this sharing of knowledge will keep our relationship amiable." This route will, however, also incur in a loss of approval with Haven's clan. The rewards for Cullen's route are the same as the one for Josephine's, but without the drawbacks. If Leliana's option is taken, a small group of Dalish elves will infiltrate Skyhold to try and free Marelas, and manage to escape with him. Clan Elnora denies any knowledge of the plan and Leliana's spies confirm that the group wasn't traveling back to clan Elnora. Leliana suspects this may be a smoke screen, but without further proof, the Inquisition's hands are tied.

If Marelas is made tranquil, a similar war table mission will be available. Josephine and Leliana will counsel the same approach. Cullen however will deem it too dangerous to give a Dalish clan access to a powerful enchanter and suggest placing Marelas under watch. If Josephine's route is chosen, the Inquisitor receives a powerful mage armor. The clan had made it for Marelas, to take on when he returned, but now he will never get to wear it. If Leliana's or Cullen's options are taken, a small group of Dalish elves tries to free Marelas, but fails. Both Marelas and the would-be liberators die in the ensuing scuffle.

[pinkfey]

ellery and ara’na existing as the two seemingly opposed pinnacles of nature 🤔🤔😳

[rosella-writes]

me and Tas were using this poem for a lil writing exercise but i want to see what you'll do with it. Something fluffy, based on the poem: I Went Out to Hear by Leila Chatti. Here's just one line: "My God. How lucky to have lived / a life I would die for." (Perhaps for Vir, or even Cass <3 or anyone you want)

oh this is beautifuuuuul 🥺thank you beloved

For @dadrunkwriting Virelan Lavellan x Solas Rated G 757 words Based on this beautiful gift: Virelan and Solas in their old age.

~~~

Solas does not know how long they rest here, in the gardens of what had been at once a military fortress, a sanctuary, a home. Time slips, and it is because they both allow it to — Virelan, in his arms, is a languid symbol of the acceptance of age. 

The sun warms their skin, just as it does the wild exuberance of this garden that their son planted and studied in his burgeoning curiosity. The morning glories, lilies, datura, belladonna, and more than Solas could identify have made this place their home in a half-cultivated, half-wild wealth of colour. But most beautiful of all, to his eye, is the woman who stretches her tired body atop his folded legs, like an old cat sprawling in the sun. Her long, tapered ears twitch, flicking away the white locs that tangle behind them. She does not seem to care that his knees press to her spine, or that she has no left hand to stretch — what stump she has extends, and her scarred, tattooed face twists in a yawn. 

He pushes contentment, comfort, into her remaining hand, clutched as it is in his own long fingers. Her deep umber skin is wrinkled and thin beneath the press of his fingertips, and he gazes upon it as if scrying the future. There is little of it now, but what remains is warm.

Solas absorbs her, as he does this sunlight. He clasps her shoulder tight when she looks up at him with a one-eyed smile and tugs him close — he slips his grasp to her wrist, reluctant to let her go. He steals this chance to count the fluttering pulses of her heart, echoed in the veins beneath his thumb. 

Whether Virelan pulling him nearer was a request, or a command, it matters not — he presses a kiss into the downy hair of her scalp. His own falls from behind his ear and veils them in white. 

“You’re doing it again,” she mutters, “looking at me like I’m a fragile bit of blown glass in your hands. Breathe, ara lath.”

He hums, then leans forward to brush his nose against hers. She crinkles it in protest, but she cannot suppress the chuckle that shakes her shoulders. 

“I shall not,” he tells her, “I am counting them.”

“Why?”

He does not tell her — his only answer is a brief, deep kiss upon her mouth, which she takes as her due. There is no wonder in this kiss, but there is familiarity. There is trust. There is acceptance.

“Do you ache?” he asks her.

She crinkles her nose again. “Only a little, in my chest. But I breathe deep and it eases. I’m fine.”

Solas knows that is as close to a lie as she tells him anymore. They both know it for what it is — I do not hurt now, I am glad with you, if I must hurt, I am where I am loved. He knows her past as a reaver takes its payment from her flesh. She changed herself, deeply and irrevocably, with every draught of the dragons’ magic, and what once made her strong now makes her bones brittle, her muscles overwrought — her scars shine with faint scales, her teeth are sharp, her eye opens and closes with the double-snicking sounds of two sets of lids, and her very cells divide, divide, and divide again. The magic that once healed her has become confused with time, and it unravels her, slowly. 

But together, they chose. Together, they allow this time to slip. 

He buries his hand into the locs at the nape of her neck and holds her close, forehead to forehead. He remembers what she told him, at the start of their new beginning:

Solas. Give me the gift of time.

Her eye flicks open, and it’s bleary, half-lidded from its inside corner, and fond. His thumb passes over her cheekbone in slow, methodical swipes. 

“Solas,” she says, as quietly and as devotedly as she once said Creators, or the beginning of a well-known prayer. “How lucky I am, to live a life I would die for.” She blinks suddenly, and he feels heat behind his own lids. “Thank you for living it with me.”

He aches, with sadness, with joy, with age, with love. He folds every winding thread of emotion around her, here in this garden where the Beyond and Waking are one, among the beautiful, blooming flowers that bring deadly sleep, until he is able to speak. 

“Var lath vir suledin,” he says, “vhenan.”

[merrybandofmurderers]

finally back to writing!! more from the fic featuring my oc, Yuo Lavellan, @calicostorms's Fen'an, and @evangeline444's Dhaveira

“Aneth ara, hahren,” she greeted, and Yuo relaxed at the familiar words. “You are the one called the Herald?”

He grimaced. “They call me that,” he replied in Elvish. “You can call me Lavellan.”

A smile graced her full lips. “Dhaveira of Clan Alahannon.” A northern clan—very far north, based on her accent. She raised her chin, brushing a lock of long white hair over her shoulder. “The dead have grown restless in the wake of the Breach. We have come to assist the Inquisition in closing it.”

Yuo raised an eyebrow. Beside him, the Inquisition agents shifted uncomfortably. One glanced warily at the staff on her back, another taking in her oddly pale skin and red eyes. Yuo’s lips quirked; his gaze flicked over her shoulder at the warrior—who was staring directly at him.

“We?” Yuo asked, not breaking eye contact with the other elf.

Dhaveira tipped her head in the direction of her companion. “My brother, Fen’an.”

“Fen’an,” he repeated, rolling the syllables over tongue, rough and low. Fen’an’s ears twitched, cheeks darkening. “It’s good to meet you.”

Fen’an cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, stilted.

Dhaveira’s gaze jumped between them, smile widening.

“Ser!” an Inquisition agent burst in, making a jerky motion with the papers clenched in his hand.

Yuo’s eye twitched, but he dragged his attention away from the intriguing elf. “I have business required of me,” he said in Elvish. “But please stay so we may discuss this further.”

“Of course, hahren,” Dhaveira replied, looking very pleased. She flitted back to Fen’an’s side.

Yuo finally accepted the papers. “Sera!” he called across the camp. “Start dinner, please.”

She blew a raspberry at him but chased down a recruit for provisions.

Yuo allowed the agents to shuffle him over to a command table. He glanced back at their guests. Dhaveira had a hand on Fen’an’s arm, leaning up on her toes to whisper in his ear. He was still looking at Yuo, a deep furrow between his brows. Yuo smirked and winked at him. His eyes widened and skipped away. Dhaveira prodded his side, smile bright and teasing.

An agent cleared her throat uncertainly. Yuo sighed and turned his attention to the duties demanded of him.

@mrs-theirin, @ringneckedpheasant, @fade-and-loathing-in-thedas, @transfenris-truther, @midnightprelude, @championsofthejust

[ell-vellan]

Last Line Monday

Thank you for tagging me, @thebookworm0001 !

Rules: Post last written line, tag as many people as words (or however many you want, I’m not your boss).

From the upcoming chapter of Aneth Ara, my Bull/f!Lavellan longfic.

---

"Which is why I didn't ask you," El replied, a smile teasing at the corner of her mouth. "The Inquisition has the resources. If I must bear the burden of the title, I'll use them how I see fit."

I don't know enough people to tag 😅 but please consider yourself tagged if you want to share and lmk if you would like tagged in future 💖

[scribeofmorpheus]

HARELLAN - Lathbora Viran

Halamshiral had felt like the end. A cruel twist of fate, a dagger in the back. For, not long before the tear in the sky had threatened to take the few things unspoiled by corruption, Halamshiral had been the start of something:

Two elves secreted away on a balcony amid a deadly game of succession. An apostate with far more knowledge than any Dalish Keeper and the ‘knife ear’ Inquisitor, an eager Knight-Enchanter in training with far too much curiosity. She who desired to consume all knowledge offered as if it were a cursed nature, and he who obliged as if there were no other alternatives; as if their meeting had been written in the stars thousands of years ago.

For a time, the Inquisitor had believed such a fallacy; that their union was stronger than any threat they’d face; that the stars were the only cosmic powers capable of separating what they’d strung together.

After all, they had fate on their side. Did they not?

In the beginning, Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel had often praised Revas' father, a simple hunter with sure aim and Andruil’s blessing on his forehead, for bestowing such a strong name on his lan’s shoulders. Ilaan Revasan of Clan Lavellan. The Many Sacrifices for Freedom's Flight. Headstrong and naïve, Revas had believed such a name an honour too, thinking herself special in some way. Chosen.

Sure enough, fate had greater things in store for her than being First to the Keeper.

At Adamant, the Anchor had grabbed hold of her with its cold, ancient magic, it made a pawn out of a simple elf, and a saviour out of a scared, devout Dalish. Of course, the child named for the many sacrifices borne in service of elven freedom would be chosen to lead the Inquisition, and Thedas, to victory against assured damnation. Fortune smiled on her, perhaps for too long, and she saw it as irrefutable evidence that she was destined to usher in an age of equality for her people.

It was all a wonderful, childish dream.

Then she learned the cruelty of the Vallaslin she wore—the mangled reach of the past, her people’s history already so broken and scattered, revealed to be nothing more than remnants of other oppressions—and the dream shattered.

With that truth, she lost her faith in Dirthamen, in the secreted knowledge he promised, and she lost her lust for the words of ceremony she’d often dreamed of uttering in vows: “Sylaise enaste var aravel. Lama, ara las mir lath. Bellanaris.” Most painful of all, she lost the one who called her His Heart. The one who painted frescoes in Skyhold—his hold—and called it hers.

She lost the elf that had been ‘just Solas’.

And now what was left?

[xx]

[tired-fandom-ndn]

Damn, Elf!Hawke goes hard. It also makes so many things in canon more interesting.

Aveline not letting Carver join the guard could have an extra layer of racism, due to him being sympathetic to elves even if Aveline saw him as human.

Hawke's rise to fame and the legit struggle of whether to tell everyone that their beloved champion is an elf, or keep quiet because the last thing elves need is for Hawke to fuck up and give them all a bad name. Possibly also protecting their sibling from the backlash they'd get from being outted as elvhen, especially a templar!Carver.

Carver also gets an extra layer when we consider that he probably was more afraid of how his elvishness would affect his FAMILY rather than himself. He couldn't risk outting himself without also risking his sibling(s) being made tranquil.

The Qunari situation, and how Hawke would be more sympathetic to them, because they know what it feels like to be disconnected from one's culture and yet be unable to return to it.

The entire conflict with the chantry and templars and mages. Hawke's resentment at the chantry's treatment of elves thrown into the mix. Malcolm's own history with the circle and how he was "rescued". The fact that the chantry attempted the genocide of their people and is still an active threat to them.

Fenris. Another elf that never really got to be an elf. Just. Would Hawke try to reach out? To say that Fenris may not recall his past, but he has a heritage and Hawke will share as much of it with him as they can. Would Fenris want to? Would he hum the songs and eat the food and learn the words if Hawke offered them, from equal to equal, lost child to lost child?

And finally, Hawke showing up in Inquisition and greeting a Lavellan Inquisitor with "Aneth ara".

GOD ANON YOU GET ME

Another huge factor to whether Hawke is open about being an elf though is class. The biggest thing protecting the family from the templars, especially after Hawke becomes Champion, is the fact that a wealthy and respected noble family is essentially untouchable, even when they spit in the face of everything the Chantry and Circle stand for.

But elves aren't allowed to be nobility, or at least there's definitely systems in place to keep it from happening. Elves aren't meant to be wealthy or influential, especially not in the city of chains. So what would happen to that protection if the Hawke kids being elven was public knowledge? I think the best-case scenario is that their family would keep their money and their nice house, but essentially become pariahs in society and laughingstocks in noble circles. Worst case scenario. . . they lose everything. They're stripped of whatever they have, any titles and political influence, legally or through some bullshit excuses and convenient "proof" of wrongdoing or theft or something to justify taking everything from the family.

Hawke's reputation as Champion is ruined through lies and slander, Hawke or Bethany or both get dragged to the Circle because they no longer have public opinion defending them. Are elves even allowed to be templars? Because we don't see any in the games as far as I'm aware of, so there's probably either an official policy only allowing humans to join or an unwritten policy meant to keep everyone else out. So that means Carver either gets kicked out of the Order entirely or will face horrible abuse and mistreatment by the other templars, especially if he's been more openly supportive of mages already.

After everything they'd gone through to get there, would Hawke be able to justify that to themself? After losing so much, the suffering their parents went through and their father's lifetime of trauma and pain and the sibling buried in a shallow grave in Ferelden, could they justify risking what little they've fought tooth and nail for? If their family being true to themselves means they end up dying in the slums, what was even the point of all the pain and suffering and grief? Could Hawke live with knowing that they doomed their family by sharing the secret that their father took to his deathbed?

It's a terrible thing to think about :(

I think an elf Hawke would absolutely be more sympathetic to the Qunari, especially the Arishok's desperation to just finish what he's there for and return home, get back to somewhere he belongs. Hawke knows what it's like to be an outsider, to be looked at as a threat just for existing, to be desperate to be around people like you. I don't know if that would make the resolution to the conflict kinder, with the Arishok getting the tome and leaving peacefully after connecting so much with Hawke, or if it would make the inevitable violence and tragedy so much worse.

I honestly don't know how Fenris would feel about Hawke being an elf. Canonly, he gets VERY angry when Merrill tries to connect with him over elf stuff, especially when she brings up Dalish things, but he's also very wary of her as a person because of the whole blood magic thing. Would it be easier if it was Hawke, someone he loves and trusts, even as a friend? Would he feel more comfortable sharing his feelings about being an elf and what that actually means in his life? Would he embrace the traditions that they share with him?

Or would it just make him feel more cornered, just another thing he can fuck up or another way for someone else to twist him into what they think he should be? Because one of the big issues he has with Merrill trying to appeal to that part of him is that he's not Dalish and he feels way more connection to Tevinter, all he ever knew growing up, than to the Dalish elves who were never part of his life. Maybe Hawke trying to connect to him through Dalish culture would just make him feel like they're not actually seeing him for himself and that Hawke is just one more person who has decided who he is regardless of his feelings about it.

Hawke and Lavellan would be attached at the hip. They start a club for Dalish and reconnecting elves in the Inquisition. Mother Giselle hates it.

[nightmarecait]

I like these. And I have so many ocs for it.

Lyna Mahariel Dalish warden

Elirma Cousland human noble warden

Elizabeth Hawke

Arisha Lavellan Dalish inquisitor

Ara Kethra half elf tav

Amnon tiefling durge

Salrina aasimar tav

Arras Faine sun elf tav

Sorri Alnor changeling durge

oc asks: not-so-nice edition

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?