#cara laidir

[lottiesnotebook]

Oh i’d love to hear the story of Rook trying to impress someone.

Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy a little story about my Horrible Nepo Baby!

From the Rook Storytime Prompts:

The biggest problem with Skyhold, at least in the eyes of Cara Hawke-Laidir, was that she mostly ended up there because her mother was doing something too scary and interesting to take her along. She understood her mother worried about her, but she was almost thirteen now, and practically a full mage! In a Circle, they might already be talking about Harrowing her, but apparently, that did not make her mature or useful enough to be taken anywhere Actually Interesting.

There were, however, some significant advantages to Skyhold: endless walls to climb, far more people to watch than she'd seen since Kirkwall, and of course, there was Lace. Scout 'Call me Lace!' Harding with her beautiful red hair pinned up in braids, who was only seven years older than her, and not even a mage, but so quick and so clever that even the Herald called her 'invaluable'.

Lace never treated her like a baby. Lace was always ready to talk to her about the problems or dangers of scouting, and if Cara had ideas or suggestions, she listened to her as she might listen to anyone. Lace had even, after much persuasion, shown her how to light campfires without magic and to shoot a bow, which her mother said they might all come to regret, but Cara thought was an excellent and useful skill.

All this to say that Lace was quite possibly the most beautiful and interesting person that Cara had met in her twelve years of life, and the crush she had on the older girl could quite reasonably be described as 'devastating'. Cara certainly felt devastated by it, every time she remembered that she was in fact only nearly thirteen and it would be years before Lace might reasonably return her feelings. Right now, she knew, Lace had her own crush on the Inquisitor, who was in fairness very handsome and charming and could do absolutely insane things like jump off the battlements and walk away unscathed.

"It's a knack," he told Cara, breezily, the one time she got the opportunity to ask. "When you're as old as me, you'll have figured it out too, I'm sure."

The problem was, Cara was getting unbelievably tired of waiting to be old enough for things like going adventuring with her mother, or getting Lace to fall in love with her, and really, jumping off things didn't look that hard.

So, really, it was Inquisitor Trevelyan's fault when she yelled "Lace, look!" and jumped off the Skyhold steps. She broke two ribs and her arm in three places, but to her credit, it did very much get Lace Harding's attention.

[lottiesnotebook]

Hopefully not running too late for this, but I thought this would be fun to do for Cara! I don't think she ever really thought about getting married - being the Justhanders Nepo Baby and going through her parents' divorce and remarriage and the general city-destroying horrors of their love, I think by the point of Veilguard she's decided the best thing she can do is steer clear of emotional attachments like her mentor and aunt Isabela before her.

Aaaand then exactly like her mother, she meets an abomination who looks at her like she hung the moon. Though in Cara's case, she gradually falls head over heels while trying to help him and Spite get along better by acting as their 'marriage counsellor' to... mixed effects.

That said, I definitely think it is both Lucanis' idea and his hope to a) lock that girl down as soon as he's come to terms with Feelings and also Spite, and b) start regrowing his family after all that loss, having seen 'proof' in the form of Cara's parents that other people make that work.

(Does Cara think this is proof? No. Does Justice approve of Spite marrying his daughter? Absolutely not. Will this all end in tears? Maybe but that has never stopped her before.)

That said, I do think they would end up having a huge wedding due to Cara's uncontrollable desire to invite all of her adopted aunts and uncles from DA2, everyone from Skyhold she thought was vaguely cool that she met while being 12 during Inquisition, everyone she met and liked during Veilguard, and also her general love of being the centre of attention and having a huge party.

I also think her wedding dress would be something insane like this (with the wings) because again, Princess Nepo Baby loves to be the centre of attention and I do not think Lucanis is physically capable of saying no to her. (Spite is a different matter, but Spite thinks this is funny and that matching wings are great.)

Hey, hope you all had a good weekend! Unfortunately, it’s Monday =/ Fortunately, it’s time for Rook Intro Hour! 🍀🌺🌼🌸

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today’s Question(s): Does your Rook want to get married to their LI(s)? Do they care about where? Is there a specific tradition/traditions they want to follow, when they do? Who would they invite? What would they wear?

Have fun & thanks for sharing!

[the-font-bandit]

Cara Hawke-Laidir

A Dragon Age OC Cocktail

character by @lottiesnotebook

A sweet cocktail for a spoiled princess, with the smallest bite of cinnamon. And of course, a rum base for a pirate Lord of Fortune.

2oz (60ml) Aged rum (not spiced) (I used Planteray 5-year)

1.5oz (45ml) Honey syrup*

1.5oz (45ml) Fresh lime juice

About 8 dark sweet cherries (fresh or thawed from frozen)

1 cinnamon stick

Optional: edible shimmer dust in gold or red

* To make honey syrup, warm equal parts honey and water until honey dissolves, then let cool. Can be done on the stovetop, but I usually do it in a Pyrex measuring cup in the microwave, in 15-second bursts and stirring between.

Muddle cherries in a shaker tin with a muddler or the back of a wooden spoon

Add everything else into shaker (except shimmer dust if using)

Add ice

Shake until well chilled

Strain into cocktail glass through a fine mesh strainer to catch cherry bits, discard cherries

Optional: Add a sprinkle of shimmer dust and stir

[tiravi]

Tira Laidir | OC Vibes

Rules: Show a picture of your Rook then 4 (or more) pictures you think matches their vibe. Original post by @curiouswisp 4 song addition idea by @a-mumbling-nerd

"Delicate in every way but one (the swordplay) God knows we like archaic kinds of fun (the old way) Chance is the only game I play with, baby We let our battles choose us"

Glory And Gore - Lorde

Outlaws - Alessia Cara

The Parting Glass

Shake It Out - Florence + The Machine

[lottiesnotebook]

Waaaay too late coming to this to expect anything, but all the sketches so far are incredible, so I took screenshots of my girl just in case! Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir, Horrible Nepo Princess who should not be allowed to Protagonist and yet nobody has stopped her yet. She is 23 years old and is repressing every bad thing that ever happened to her in order to be the most spoilt drama queen Thedas has ever seen. She's the worst, I love her so much. <3

Still undecided on her final canonical romance, but in my heart it's Lucanis because he doesn't know he could do better and Neve who knows she could do better but thinks that her audacity is cute.

“Neve, meet Rook… thought we could use an expert in trouble.” DAMN but they set that banter up early, don’t they? Really enjoying the near-constant references to trouble in my second playthrough.

Eann “Rook” Aldwir, chaos goblin and spellblade extraordinaire 💕 Expression studies from screenshots, because I love her and I can.

(P.S. Does anyone want a sketch of their Rook in this style? I could use the practice! If you send/link a screenshot I’ll give it a go and post them here.)

[fiadhaisteach]

Being the nerd I am, I have a spreadsheet for my characters. I started creating this too late, sadly, and am missing a couple, but I have most of them recorded.

Total hours played across Dragon Age is 1,751.95, the bulk of which are in DAI (1,016.53) where I have 17 active inquisitors, plus a dozen or so on the cutting room floor.

But DAV has already surpassed DAO & DA2 combined, both for active characters (10 combined, though many more planned, rolled up, & cut) and time (341.41 combined) with all 10 available slots filled (and 4 on the cutting room floor), plus one run completed and archived and 394 hours in as of 2025/01/09.

Though I have no idea how I’d calculate the number of hours spent reading & poring over lore & meta outside of the games. Heh.

Speaking of… does anyone have a PDF of the DAV Codex yet?

DAO: Fenorain "Surana", Ruth Tabris, Aravunlea "Surana", Sereda Aeducan, Blancmange Cousland, Parthren Brosca, Elithnehn Mahariel

DA2: Praxis, Belle, Cara

DAI: Evelyn Trevelyan, Elanor Lavellan, Aviselan Lavellan, Geoff Trevelyan, Aoifa Trevelyan, Beresaad Adaar, Evuniala Lavellan, Alulya Lavellan, Elgadir Lavellan, Elizabeth Trevelyan, 3velen Trevelyan, Kerev Cadash, Elanor2 Lavellan, Ellana Lavellan, The Onyx Auroch, Lace Cadash, Aelinor Lavellan

DAV: Revas, Sofia DeRiva, Sabrina Mercar, Beshak Thorne, Sivu Laidir, Eabha Ingellvar, Ivy Laidir, Lorant Thorne, Recorda Ingellvar, Adrocer Mercar (plus Halais Aldwir who's files are safely saved)

Ask me about any of them!

[seigephoenix]

Do any of your ships have kids in the future? Except the ones you've written about already?

I'm going to assume you are specifying my Dragon Age ships? So I'll just include the ones that are from Dragon Age. If you meant any of my other ships from other fandoms, I'll gladly talk about them too. Aside from the obvious which are the ones who canonically have kids in my universes already.

Elaina Cousland/Nathaniel Howe - Rosalind "Rosie" Howe Max Amell/Morrigan - Kieran Amell Alissa Trevelyan/Garrett Hawke - Zephyr Hawke and Leah Hawke Roisin Lavellan - Finn Aldwir (not with Solas, but she does have a kid so she counts) Odette Ingellvar/Emmrich Volkarin - Isaac Volkarin

Briar Amell/Leliana - that one is a no, they do not have nor adopt any kids Briar Amell/Cullen Rutherford - also a no, Briar doesn't want to have any children given who she is

Salem Hawke/Fenris - they do not have kids at the end of DA2. By Veilguard they have a son.

Genevieve Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford - yes they have 2 children. McKenna and Gawain (girl and boy) Adelaide Trevelyan/Iron Bull - do the Chargers count as kids? Cause that would be their children. No to biological offspring though. Niyra Cadash/Varric Tethras - the answer is obvious for this one... Moving on Bronwen Lavellan/Josephine Montilyet - no but Bronwen does have a daughter from a previous relationship. His daughter Nadiya and Yvette become close friends.

Finn Aldwir/Bellara Lutare - Absolutely they have kids. Roisin wanted grandbabies. XD In my canon, they have 4 kids total. 3 boys and 1 girl. Ashia Laidir/Taash - oh no, absolutely not. Ashia wouldn't be opposed if Taash wanted to have kids, but she is absolutely not going to be pregnant. She also can't really picture herself as motherly or anything of the like. In the Rookery AU, she is the bestest auntie in the world and spoils the kids rotten. Senna Thorn/Davrin - also of the childless lifestyle. Mostly because they have Assan and Stormwing as their kids. Do I like to imagine they have a kid? Yes, I love the happily ever after family trope. But in my canon storyline for them, they do not have kids. Jacek Thorn/Lace Harding - they adopt later on. An elven girl and a dwarven boy. Vat'Asala/Neve Gallus - maybe way down the line they'll talk about it. I haven't quite decided for these two because I think Asala would make a great parent. They're incredibly patient and warm and has a lot of love to give. Absolutely would be the one to fall for the pleading eyes though. Godspeed Neve if you two adopt. Mariposa de Riva/Lucanis Dellamorte - yes they do have kids. Twin boys later on who inherit Mariposa's magical talent

And last but certainly not least...

Cara Valisti/Illario Dellamorte - no. Cara can't have kids (and if you read Darkside you'll find out why in part 4 that will be posted next week)

Hope that helped you Nonny! All my Dragon Age ships and their stances on kids/if they have kids. Since I do like that family happily ever after trope, a lot of my ships do have kids. But I try to fit it with the character and their personality.

[lottiesnotebook]

Hi! 6 or 32 for the Rook story time prompts!

Thank you for the ask from your brilliant Rook Storytime Prompts! I'm still on my first ever Veilguard playthrough, but I hope this works for my Horrible Nepo Baby Rook!

Maybe she should have been paying closer attention, but the dragon is so big it's hard to see the tail coming when you're focussed on aiming a spell at the soft spot of its belly. At least, that's what Cara would tell anyone who asked why she didn't see the tail coming and ended up smacked into the wall of the half-ruined Treviso market.

There's a loud crack from something in her head, and black and white stars dance across her visions, like the lanterns that used to hang between the awnings and now likely form the broken glass digging into her back. Not that that really matters in this moment. Even the dragon and the Blight seem very far away. It's just her, and the stars, and the ragged scraps of awning fluttering above her, and she's probably going to die here, like this, and is too dazed even to really care.

Then there's a rush of wind - warm, not icy like the dragon's breath had been - and she hears shouts and the sound of boots on cobblestones. She makes an inarticulate groaning noise, and then someone is leaning above her, and in the shadow of the awning, their eyes seem to flare with light for a moment, and their hands are cool on her face.

"Cara? Cara, can you hear me?" A man's voice, low and urgent. Something about it seems a little off, but everyone here calls her Rook, because Varric calls her Rook, and there's only one man with glowing eyes who says her name with such panic and such tenderness.

"Daddy?" she mumbles, and someone else nearby - Bellara, she thinks? Why would Bellara and her father be in the same place? Her father shouldn't even be in Antiva - gives a high, almost frightened laugh.

The mans head snaps around towards the laugh. "The dragon is gone, Treviso is in ruins, Rook does not recognise us, and you are laughing?"

"Look, you have to admit she's going to hate this when she comes round properly."

Bellara's words might as well have been a prophecy. It's the only thing any of them have to laugh about, so naturally it's all around the Lighthouse before Cara's even recovered from the cracked skull.

"It could be worse," Bellara reminds her through the bedroom door, when she buries her head in a pillow and refuses to come out of her room for dinner. "Lucanis is too bashful to read into that. If you'd called Neve Mommy, you'd never be allowed to forget it."

"I wish," Cara says, into the pillow, "that you'd let the dragon eat me."

[lottiesnotebook]

For Cara? Literally all of Kirkwall (thanks, dads). She spent the first nine years of her life as the little princess of a noble household with three loving parents, Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana to take care of her, and a bunch of aunts and uncles who might not have gotten on with each other but were all varying levels of doting/kind to her.

Then the city is on fire, she and her mother are on the run, and she's lost literally everything and everyone she knows, and has to grow up VERY fast...

(Have you answered these questions for your Rook, OP? I'm curious.)

what is the worst loss your rook has endured? how did they deal with that?

[lottiesnotebook]

Hi!!! For the Rook & partner questions--- 1 & 17?

Hi!! <3 These are fun questions to answer about Cara and Lucanis, so I'm going to stick with them for now despite not being very far into their romance at all.

Does your Rook fall for their partner at first sight? If not, what moment made your Rook realize they're in love with them?

Cara absolutely does not fall in love at first sight in the Ossuary, though she does think the wings are hot - she's got too much on her plate and also too many issues with romance thanks to her parents' city-destroying love. I feel like it hits her pretty late in the game when she has to think about what's going to happen if they stop the gods and she realises that she doesn't want to give up drinking hot chocolate at midnight and seeing him first thing every morning.

(And then she lies face down on her Mage Fainting Couch for 2 hours because she only meant to give him and Spite marriage counselling and this is Not how that was meant to go.)

17. What is your Rook's favorite thing about their partner? What is the partner's favorite thing about Rook?

I think that Cara is her mother's daughter (her mother being an Justice/Anders-romancing Rhiannon Hawke) in that the things she finds most endearing about Lucanis are the things that draw him and Spite the closest together - his determination, his refusal to give up under impossible circumstances, his resilience, even if he sees those things as the reasons he became an abomination. She admires them both because she genuinely thinks that he should appreciate them rather than seeing them as flaws, and because they are strengths she really comes to rely on - as a Horrible Nepo Baby, she doesn't necessarily have a massive inner well of self-motivated determination and resilience, but she does have a lot of spite in her own heart and she is making productive use of it. Also, they are both a little bit inhuman, and she's drawn to that.

As for what Lucanis appreciates about Cara, who is generally Horrible... I think he falls in love first with the fact that she leaves a door open for him as an abomination without even questioning it, even if he finds her blase attitude to Spite a little alarming. She has both hope and experiential evidence that his life can still be worth living, and that gives him enough leeway to keep going long enough to believe in himself.

I also think she was the first person to actually smile at him immediately after the Ossuary, and he can never quite forget that.

[lottiesnotebook]

I've simply got to know 6, 7 and 13 for Cara and Lucanis

Ah, you mean Lucara :p Cannot believe your commitment to inflicting my Horrible Nepo Baby Rook on that poor man, he does not deserve her but I think his self esteem is poor enough that he does not know that.

6. What is their favorite thing to do together? Do they share any hobbies? Does your Rook teach their partner their own hobbies? Does the partner teach Rook theirs?

I think Lucanis definitely teaches her to cook, if only out of worry that if left unsupervised, she will either burn down the Lighthouse or get scurvy. I think she whines about it at first but actually gets very into it because she likes to see him happy and content (and the knife skills are hot too.)

As for Cara... I think she had lute lessons when she was a little girl and still likes to play, but I think she has the most fun teaching him to sail, though it really stresses him out at first:

"Mi amore, you cannot swim!"

"Oh noooo guess you'll have to rescue me if I fall in... :3"

(She has been living on boats for 10ish years, she's not going to fall in)

7. Are they a physically affectionate couple? Are they fine displaying those affections in public or do they prefer to be in private? If they're not, how do they prefer to show their love instead?

I feel like Cara is very physically affectionate both in public and in private, which Lucanis is a little bashful about but really enjoys having someone be unafraid to love him openly given the whole Dellamorte Family Vibe. He is a lot subtler in terms of initiating public displays of affection but he likes to be Close To Her at all times.

13. What song(s) do you associate with them?

I have not gone so far as to make a whole playlist (yet) bc I'm not that far into the game, but the ones that come to mind are:

Because imagine the relief for Lucanis of having someone go "yes, you are fused with a demon and that is frightening and was done to you without your consent, but it has happened to other people before and they've still been happy." I think that boy needs that hope in his life tbh.

[lottiesnotebook]

For the rook story time prompts, how about : 15. Rook breaking the law.

Oh this is a fun one for Cara Hawke-Laidir, who may have the mage class but has all the morals one would expect of a Lord of Fortune Rogue, so have some breaking and entering with Uncle Varric

From Rook Storytime Prompts (previously 6, 18) (also anyone reading this, please send me any prompts you like, I'm horribly sick but this is cheering me)

"You know," Varric said, from somewhere much closer to the floor, "I'm starting to worry I'm a bad influence on you, Prince- Rook," he corrected, hastily, as she let the ward she was unpicking slip a few sparks loose to sting his fingers where he was working on the lock.

"You're not," she replied, with a sunniness that belied her mischief. "I'd be a pretty terrible Lord of Fortune if I couldn't get into places nobody wanted me to."

"That always was a habit of yours," he mused, which was probably a punishment for letting the sparks sting him - he knew damn well she was good enough with wards not to make a mistake like that by accident. "The number of times I had to fetch you out of the cellars at the Hanged Man because your parents kept hitting their heads..."

"If I hadn't come by my sneakiness honestly, you'd've taught it to me," she reminded him. "How's the lock coming on, old man? Getting slow?"

"Not on your life." The final pick slid into place and there was a satisfying click as the door cracked open. Cara let the ward settle back around it smugly - nobody would be able to tell that anyone had broken through it. "I've been picking locks before you were even a twinkle in your mama's eye."

"Maybe that's why you've slowed down in your old age," she teased, and he slapped her on the back hard enough to shove her into the room ahead of him.

"For that, Princess, you can do the first trap-check," he informed her, and she groaned. "Aren't your young eyes better than mine for work like this, or has Rivaini been letting you get sloppy?"

"I didn't know working with you would come with homework," she groused, but narrowed her eyes as she scanned the room, looking for anything out of place. "Lump under the rug near the desk," she noted, "and some kind of switch over by the fireplace."

"Good start," he said, and she preened for a moment before he added: "You did miss the ones on the wardrobe, though, so I'll start there."

She left him to it, while she disarmed the pressure-plate under the rug by wrapping it in a quick barrier - nothing too fancy, but enough to prevent it being stepped on. This left the desk to her: she scanned the drawers, disarmed the triggers on them, and began to sift through the papers for anything important enough for Varric to pay attention to.

"These are the ones you want," she informed him, stacking them neatly for him to peruse. "The rest is receipts, personal letters... boring stuff."

"Anything scandalous in the letters?"

"No," she sighed, moving away from the desk to inspect the glass-fronted cabinet over the fireplace. This was where the interesting stuff was. "Mostly advice on which horses to bet on in the races, and sketches for how he wants his gardens laid out. If this magister-"

"Altus."

"If this altus is hiding a secret boyfriend who happens to be the Dreadwolf somewhere out in the borderlands, I can't find his letters."

"Shame." Behind her, she could hear the rustling of paper as Varric skimmed through the stack she'd pulled together for him, but that was nowhere near as interesting as the collection of shiny trinkets and runes stored behind the glass. They weren't here for treasure - they weren't meant to leave any sign they'd been here at all - but it seemed a shame that such pretty, valuable treasures were left to gather dust in a corner of the study that their master probably rarely looked at.

"I'd appreciate you," she murmured, to a set of jewelled chess-pieces that glimmered with enchantment, to a pair of gloves cut from purest shadow, to a little silver bell that gleamed moon-bright in the shadowed corner.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Varric!" she said, quickly, "Just- checking the wards over here!"

He narrowed his eyes at her, but the second they dropped back to the paper, her picks were out and she was cracking the cabinet open like an oyster for a pearl.

She regretted it a moment too late, when the bell let out a low, mournful dong that almost shook the floorboards. Cursing, she swept the chess-set into her bags along with her picks, and scrambled towards Varric.

"Window?" she said, brightly.

"Cara Bettina-" He turned his head sharply at the sound of running feet. "Window," he agreed, and together, they tumbled out into the alley below and fled into the dark.

Later, back at the inn, papers still in hand, he was still glaring at her. "If I told your mother how you endangered the job-"

"She'd have asked you why you didn't help me empty the cabinet," she said, brightly, and he flicked her on the ear as if she were still a little girl who'd crawled into a cubbyhole she shouldn't have.

"And your father would say that anyone who describes people as their property doesn't deserve to keep what they have," he sighed. "You really did get the worst of both your parents, didn't you, Princess?"

"And that," she reminded him, "is why you love me so much."

[lottiesnotebook]

@ everyone who wanted to know the Cara "Rook" Hawke-Laidir backstory, BEHOLD! It is posted! (Or chapter 1 is, at least!)

never love an anchor, by mothwrites (adainesjacket) and goldtreesilvertree (@lottiesnotebook)

(rated T. anders/justice/f!hawke, dragon age: inquisition)

“It’s you.” The girl on the doorstep was dripping with rainwater from her lank black hair to the edges of her fine woollen cloak, but for all her disarray, she spoke with the venomous disdain achievable only by the most disaffected of teenagers. This alone would not have been enough to throw him, but for the fact she glared up at him with familiar golden eyes. “I knew it.” If Justice had not been holding him up, Anders's knees would have hit the ground. "Cara? Is that you?" - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - After the events at Adamant, Cara Hawke-Laidir gives her Inquisition babysitters the slip and travels across the Hinterlands on a quest to enter the Fade and save her mother. She'll have to summon all her strength and find both her fathers to get her back.

read chapter one on ao3 ☆

[lottiesnotebook]

OC Tag Game

Thank you, @dialmformud for the tag, and for introducing us to the gorgeous Sparrow! Now, you know her, some of you even love her, it's my Horrible Nepo Rook, Cara Hawke Laidir!

General

Name: Cara Bettina Hawke-Laidir

Alias: Rook, Princess, Carissima

Gender: Cis woman (she/her)

Age: 23

Languages: Trade Tongue, a smattering of Rivaini and Tevine

Sexual orientation: Chaotically bisexual

Occupation: Lord of Fortune

Favorite

Color: Turquoise and gold

Entertainment: Dancing, breaking wards, and finding new streetfood to try

Pastimes: Sailing, riding, and anything else that doesn't involve sitting still for too long.

Food: Hot chocolate, banana bread, tiramisu

Drink: She has her own personal cocktail concocted by @the-font-bandit which I will be trying on Friday that involves rum, honey, lime, cherries, and glitter, all of which I think she would LOVE.

Has She

Passed university: She stopped attending school at the age of nine when her father blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall and she and her mother went on the run, so no, she's never been to university. XD As a Lord of Fortune she has studied with some Rivaini seers, though, and she is a particularly talented spirit mage (due to being half-spirit, which is cheating)

Had sex: YEP. I feel like by the time she has to leave the Lords of Fortune to help Varric out, she's cut a bit of a swathe through everyone vaguely attracted to her, leaving a trail of hearts broken to various degrees in her wake. Isabela unfortunately thinks this is funny and will Not rein her in.

Had sex in public: Yeah she has no sense of shame and loves an adventure.

Got piercings: She looooves jewellery, so she has her ears, nose, lower lip, and belly button pierced, and usually has ridiculous hoop or medallion earrings in.

Got tattoos: A little compass on her shoulder, a ship on her right thigh

Ever been heartbroken: The (as yet unnamed) member of the Lords of Fortune who broke up with her right before she was (temporarily) kicked out was her first ex to get angry enough to actually list her flaws. She was blindsided both by the breakup and by someone systemically laying out everything terrible about her so neatly and irrefutably, and this idea of her own toxicity definitely contributed to how badly she misjudged the situation that got her sent to stay with Uncle Varric for a little bit…

Is She

A cuddler: She loves to be snuggled up and initiates 90% of the cuddlepiles that occur when she and the Veilguard are camping.

Scared easily: Not much scares Cara, but fire scares her to the point where she won't use it in spells, and she'll freeze up for a second if it shows up in a fight unexpectedly.

Jealous easily: Romantically or sexually, no. In general, she can be a little:

Trustworthy: Cara is neither particularly trustworthy nor particularly dependable, partially due to being a spoilt princess and partially due to being a born Slitherer Outer (a la Book!Howl MovingCastle). She will help in the end, but only if she has no other choice or has tricked herself into believing it's the only option.

Family

Parents/Close relatives: The daughter of my Rhiannon Hawke, Anders, and Justice, she's born after an ill-advised Deep Roads hook-up and her parents get married when she's about two. She screams through the whole wedding. <3

Siblings: Considers Orana her adopted older sister.

Children: I have not considered Cara with kids, predominantly because I don't think any children deserve to have her inflicted upon them. It might happen eventually, but it will either be Definitely An Accident or because Neve or Lucanis bring home a kid and That's That.

Pets: Collects wisps, stray cats, and one (1) wyvern with gleeful abandon until they run out of space.

Tagging @adainesjacket, @the-font-bandit, @teine-mallaichte (if you haven't done this for Storm yet), @kierarhawke, @the-bear-and-his-sunbird, and @griffongrey if you want to play too.

[lottiesnotebook]

Prompt: Something that was right under Cara's nose for weeks but she wasn't aware until it was deadly

Oof Cara is having a Bad Week. This one turned out reeeeally long, but I love how it turned out so much that in my heart it is canon now, so I really hope you have fun with it.

Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir/Spite/(Lucanis), pre-relationship, possession, hallucinations, nightmares, injury, burns

@rookgallustroublesomehousehimbo | @dadrunkwriting

someone watching over me

Perhaps she might have suspected the necklace from the first, if it hadn’t been a gift from Isabela. She’d draped it carelessly around Cara’s neck after her fifth victory in the Hall of Valor, ‘a prize for my best bet’, she’d added, with a slap to her arse lest anyone take it as sentiment for the girl who got away with calling her ‘Aunt Iz’. It was a lovely thing — a glimmering fire opal the size of a pigeon’s heart on a long, gilded chain — but not valuable enough to be immoderate as a prize for her winnings, and she treasured it all the more for that. For once, she felt she’d earned it, and she seldom took it off, whether in the Hall, aboard a ship, or, later, on the road with Varric. She wore it for so long that when things started to go wrong, she hardly thought to blame the necklace.

It started the first time she truly slept in the Lighthouse — nightmares in amber and yellow that she only half-remembered on waking, but they left her drenched in sweat and shivering nonetheless.

“Are you sure you should be up?” Lace asked her at breakfast, kneeling atop her chair to press a hand to her forehead that Cara tried and failed to duck away from. “You look… fever-y.”

“I just slept badly,” she replied, quickly, and then wished she hadn’t: Harding and Neve both looked at her with nauseating sympathy that felt utterly undeserved, when Lace still carried the marks of Cara’s mistakes on her face. “Maybe it was Solas. Or, you know… everything else.”

She shuddered, and fidgeted with her pendant to cover it. It felt comfortingly warm in the palm of her hand, the only warmth in the dim, drafty library.

“We’ve all got plenty of reason to have bad dreams,” Neve said, with her usual diplomacy. “It’s not exactly the greatest mystery on our plates. But if it keeps happening, let me know. In the Fade, these things can be… significant.”

Harding poked her tongue at them both. “You mages and your doomful declarations. I think I’m well out of your dreaming nonsense.”

Cara would usually have retorted with some flippant comment on not missing what you never had, if for no other reason than to get Harding back for treating her like a child, but she didn’t have the heart to bicker, at least, not then.

She didn’t think about the nightmares, at least for a little while. They slept in the forests of Arlathan, the inns of Treviso, and most nights she was too exhausted to dream at all, let alone think any further on old nightmares. It was only when an ambush by Venatori forced an early stop in the Crossroads that she felt it again — the chill in the air that sent a shiver down her spine, and the smell of smoke that clung to everything from her cloak to the inside of her tent.

Lucanis seemed discomfited too — she could see the hazy purple shadow of Spite coalescing into something a little more solid around his shoulders, see the flicker of his dark pupils as he tried not to react to the voice only he could hear.

“Does Spite have some opinions they want the rest of us to hear?” she offered, and he winced.

“None fit to share with company,” he replied, with a forced smile, and then, after a few more moments of eerie whispering from the spirit: “He says he doesn’t like your necklace.”

She drew it out from the neckline of her shirt, and took a moment to preen at the way his gaze lingered a little too long on the shadows between her breasts. “This little thing?”

“Um-” he began, and Spite burst through:

“Ugly thing! Cut it, smash it, break it! Our Rook, our mortals, no-one else’s-”

“It’s hardly a love token-” Cara began, with a laugh, but Lucanis shook his head, reasserted control with the usual frown that did not, in her opinion, suit him.

“You see,” he said, drily, “not fit for company.”

“I see that,” she said. She could read the mortification in his features, and for all her experience with ‘abominations’, she did not yet know him well enough to do anything but leave it unacknowledged. Training her gaze on the now-roiling haze, she offered: “Would it help to know it was just a present from my aunt?”

There was a pause, then another speaking wince. “Apparently not. Apologies, Rook, he is- opinionated tonight.”

He’s allowed to have opinions, Cara wanted to say, but she could tell it wasn’t the right moment for it, so she retreated to her tent, to shiver herself to sleep and dream feverish, fretful dreams. She knew she must have slept, at least a little, because she remembered waking breathless and close to screaming, but exhaustion had them slipping from her memory like water through her fingers. She remembered the screams, and the smell of burning, but those were old, familiar dreams, and she shoved them down below the floorboards of her mind where they belonged.

It was after the third time she slept in the Fade that the nightmares began to creep into her waking world. It was small things at first — the smell of smoke clinging to her clothes, her hair, her skin, no matter how hard she tried to scrub it out. Then larger slips — when Emmrich or Bellara leant across the table to pass over side dishes or wine, she’d yelp, seeing their flowing sleeves catch in the candleflames, only to have the rest of the table turn to look at her rather than the fire she thought she saw catching on their clothing, their skin, their hair. A trick of the Fade, she realised, the second or third time everyone stared at her rather than the blaze — a waking nightmare brought on by exhaustion or stress.

“A splinter again,” she offered, lamely, but this time the looks she received were more suspicious.

“You’re sure you’re not getting sick?” Lace said again, but over her shoulder, Lucanis was wincing at a sound only he could hear.

“I don’t think so...” This time she was less certain in her reply, and Lace could tell — she was forced to accept the vile-tasting tonic that Ma Harding swore by to stave off a cold, and sent to get an early night. The glimmering green light of her room was oddly soothing to her aching eyes. Nothing burned underwater, and she fixed her eyes on the shimmering fish-spirits until they fluttered shut.

Then she was in the burning city again, knee-deep in ash and stumbling through a crowd of people fleeing in all directions. Some of them were still aflame, others… others had the blackened, withered look of things fire had burned through long ago, but still they could scream, and run, and beg, even though there was no saving them. It hadn’t been like this, even in her memory: then the ash had hung in the air like snow, and her mother had held her hand tight as they ran, but now she was alone, no longer a child, and she knew, somehow, this was all her fault. Even as she summoned frost to her fingers to dampen the fire, spirit magic to heal the bones, each person she reached to heal or save crumbled to charcoal at her touch.

Bellara looked up at her with wide, panicked eyes, Neve with exhausted resignation, Davrin with grim, stoicism, a Warden to the end. Lace… Lace looked at her with a terrible forgiveness, and still, she couldn’t save her. She couldn’t save any of them, she couldn’t save the city, and still, they looked to her as they fell. When she saw Lucanis’ violet-shrouded shadow, his winged coat already alight, she already knew how it would end, but still she struggled forward, even as she knew she wouldn’t- couldn’t get there in time-

She reached out a hand to his shoulder, and he turned to face her, his face already a blackened ruin, and she screamed, from horror and from rage, that despite all her promises, he was beyond her help. Then the purple mist around them rose up to swallow them both, and she remembered, with strange, giddy relief: Spite.

Our Rook, she felt, murmured in her bones, and nestled into it, the strange sense of safety as the spirit enshrouded her. Silly Rook. Should have listened the first time, but no matter. Can fix this ourself.

The pain that woke her was a brief, stinging snap as the chain around her neck broke, but it was quickly swallowed by a far more potent agony: her hands-

The world turned white with pain then. She couldn’t say, later, whether it was her scream or Lucanis’ that brought the rest of the group running, but when she came back to herself, she was sat beside him on his narrow cot at the back of the kitchen, and the rest of the group had crowded into the kitchen in various states of undress. Bellara was smoothing some sort of soothing poultice onto her her burned hands, while Emmrich picked iridescent shards of glass from Lucanis’.

“What…” She blinked, glanced at the crowd of worried faces, and realised they were all expecting the same answers from her.

“You were- ah- sleepwalking,” Lucanis informed her, but his gaze remained fixed on his hands rather than on her face. “And you were lucky. If Spite had done anything more before everyone came running… You should have let him run before. We are a liability to your cause.”

“I think,” Emmrich said cautiously, “you both may be operating under a misapprehension.”

“What misapprehension?” Lucanis snapped, drawing his hand back with a hiss. “She could have lost her hands. Her neck- she looks half-garrotted! And poorly so!”

“I don’t think Spite-” Cara began, but then Bellara began to wrap bandages around her burned palms, and her voice choked off into a strangled squawk.

“I believe,” Emmrich continued, on her behalf, “that Spite was attempting to aid our dear Rook, rather than harm her. You’ve mentioned before he has- something of a fondness for her?”

Lucanis made a noise that resembled a growl, but did not deny it, lips pressed tight to prevent any errant opinions from Spite escaping.

“These shards are from your necklace, are they not, Cara?” The necromancer’s tone was low and calm, and grounded Cara enough that she could begin to put the pieces together herself.

“Spite mentioned disliking it…” She narrowed her eyes. “Do you think there was some kind of curse on it? Something only a spirit could see?”

“Not a curse, exactly,” Emmrich clarified, but he looked almost proud of her. “A shard of a deceased spirit, bound, I suspect, by a less-than-ethical mage. As long as it remained outside the Fade, its effects were likely passive — providing its wearer an intimidating aura, perhaps, or striking fear into the hearts of attackers. But once it was returned to its spiritual home…”

“It began to recover,” she realised. “Going from a fragment of a spirit to-”

“A demon of fear,” Emmrich finished. “You mentioned trouble sleeping while in the Fade. Nightmares, perhaps?”

She nodded, shuddered, and the phantom smell of smoke and burning flesh filled her nostrils..

“And her hands?” Lucanis prompted. “You believe this demon did- what, exactly? Forced her hands into the flames? Is it not more likely that Spite-?”

“No,” she said, unthinking. “No, Spite was- they were in my dream.”

“That doesn’t make it better-”

“They were the only thing that wasn’t part of the nightmare.” She swallowed, and raised her head, meeting Lucanis’ eyes. “Demons don’t scare me. Fire does.”

“Then you are a fool,” Lucanis said, coolly, and looked back down to his bloodied hands.

Cara felt her cheeks heat, and blinked back tears that only had a little to do with the pain in her hands. She avoided Lucanis after that, chased leads anywhere but Treviso and worked with anyone but him. She would not have called herself proud, but she did not want to see who she was reflected in his eyes — a foolish little girl who did not know the meaning of fear. As if, during her nightmares, and the scenes they recreated, she did not have an intimate knowledge of terror.

Despite her newfound knowledge, she missed the comforting weight of the pendant around her neck. She missed the peace it had given her, the faith in her own strength, in her aunt’s affection. She missed believing that her mind was a fortress inviolate, and that there was nothing in her nightmares that did not come from within. She missed sleep. Even without the remains of a demon haunting her, it did not come easily any more.

She wasn’t asleep when her bedroom door crept open, when a purple light crept across the floor to mingle with the green.

“Rook,” Spite greeted her, and she yawned, stretched, patted the couch in an invitation to sit. “You do not sleep.”

“I could say the same to you,” she retorted, and the spirit snorted.

“We are not the same.”

“No,” she said, folding her arms. “Lucanis made that very clear.”

“Lucanis is angry. He blames us. Stupid!” Spite’s hand curled into a fist, nails cutting crescents into Lucanis’ palms, pricking blood. It took so long, she recalled, for spirits to adjust to the frailty of mortal forms. She took their hand in both her own, gently unbound it.

“He’s scared,” she said.

“Always scared!” they snapped, then, gaze focussing on their hands, entwined. “Rook is never scared, though. Not of us.”

“You did save me,” she reminded them, and Spite grinned. It was nothing like Lucanis’ tight-lipped smile, all too-sharp teeth and glittering malice. It suited them.

“Our Rook,” the spirit said, and brushed a lock of her hair back from her face. “Sleep. No demon will touch your dreams again.”

It should not have made her more comfortable, to know that there was a demon watching over her as she slept, but now, at least, her dreams were tinged with soft violet, rather than burning flame.

[lottiesnotebook]

Happy DADWC day!

Ok so this is weirdly specific, but feel free to be open in the interpretation. So I want more Cara, because of course I do 😅 and I saw this prompt in one of your lists : your OC’s description of their game’s events.

But I'd like to alter that slightly... So you said she was born after an ill-advised post deep roads encounter (I forget your exact words) so... Therefore she saw a lot of the DA2 narrative... As a kid... So I would like to see her interpretation of any of the DA2 events 😝

Ask for more Cara Hawke-Laidir and you shall receive! I don't know if this counts as exactly what you asked for, but the end of Dragon Age 2 is possibly the most formative moment in her whole life (pre-Veilguard, at least) so this is what you get! Apologies in advance, this turned out WAY longer than I expected...

Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Orana, Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Anders, Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Rhiannon Hawke, Justice/Rhiannon Hawke/Anders (mentioned), angst, tragedy, canonical terrorism

@teine-mallaichte | @dadrunkwriting

when hell bares its teeth

Cara was curled up in her favourite window-seat when the world ended. She felt the explosion rather than heard it - a low reverberation that shook the house to its foundations and cracked the panes of the window she was snuggled against. She flinched away from it in shock and rolled onto her knees, peering out through the broken panes, her book cradled against her chest. The street outside was empty, peaceful, even - but as she glanced up, she could see the climbing column of smoke cutting the bright blue sky in two.

"Orana?" she called out, her voice trembling. There was no immediate reply. She forced herself to her feet. Orana was the grown-up, and on days when her parents were busy, she was in charge, but Orana got scared, sometimes, when people shouted or magic flared, and then Cara was meant to leave her alone or make sure she was safe and comfortable.

She took the stairs down to the kitchen two at a time, where she found more broken glass and embers knocked from the fireplace scattering the stone floor.

"Orana!" she tried again, fingers beginning to flicker in the familiar pattern of a seeking spell. A soft, sobbing sound crept from under the table. Orana was down there, curled into a ball and shaking, shaking, shaking, like her father after a bad dream.

Cara tried to make her voice low and calm and commanding, like Mama's: "Orana, don't be scared. Are you hurt?"

She didn't know what to do if a grown-up was hurt, though she knew where the elfroot potions and the bandages were stored in case of emergencies. She'd figure it out. Daddy always explained what he was doing when he patched up her cuts and bruises, and she wasn't a baby to burst into tears at the sight of blood.

She felt a little like crying when Orana looked up at her, pale and glassy-eyed, but they couldn't both sit here and cry. Well, they could - they had three years ago, when the Qunari revolted, but they had kind Master Bodahn then to take care of them: he'd hurried them into the cellar and told them all stories to keep them quiet, and Cara had tried to make rabbits out of light for Sandal until Orana flinched away from them. She'd only been six, then, though. She was nine now, and practically a grownup.

"Miss- Mistress Cara!" she said, which wasn't right - Orana wasn't supposed to call anyone Master or Mistress any more, but sometimes she got scared and forgot. "I'm sorry, I'll clean up the mess-"

"We can clean it up later," she managed to say, though there was a wobble in her voice she didn't like. "Something is wrong. We should go somewhere safe."

That was the first rule when things got scary, Master Bodahn had told her - find a safe place, or safe people, and stay with them as long as you can. Safe people would be Mama and Daddy and Justice, or maybe her uncles and aunts, but none of them were here, so she and Orana would have to find a safe place, and be safe people for each other.

She took Orana's hand and slowly pulled her out from under the table. They were almost the same height now, but when she was stood up, Orana blinked and came back to herself, and squeezed Cara's hands.

"Very sensible, Carissima," she said, smiling, and Cara relaxed a little, just for a second. Then there was an urgent banging on the front door, and they both flinched.

"Cellar?" Cara suggested, and Orana nodded.

"Cellar indeed."

She leaned into the fireplace and grabbed something from the far side of the hearth, and chivvied Cara down the stairs as the sound of splintering wood shattered the air behind them.

Cara felt a chill go through her as she remembered her father's warnings: If you hear the Templars coming, you run, Cara-hase. You don't look back, and you don't stop. Who else would dare to knock down her mother's door, but the monsters that still haunted her father's dreams?

"Orana," she whispered, into the dark. "Did I ever teach you the Rabbit Game?"

The Rabbit Game was one of Daddy's inventions. They'd played it ever since she could remember, ever since she was small enough to toddle after him, clutching the hem of his robes. The rules were simple - you had to make it through the passage from the cellar to the clinic, as quick as you could, making no noise, leaving no footprints. When she'd been very small, he'd given her a handful of veilfire to light the way, but grownup girls and clever little rabbits had to play the game in the dark. Foxes and wolves could smell smoke or magic on the wind, and if they caught you, they would eat you all up.

When she was a baby, being eaten all up wasn't scary. It was being scooped up in her father's arms and tickled and kissed and fussed over until she squealed. But then she got older, and realised he wasn't trying to teach her to hide from foxes and wolves, and that there were worse things that could happen to a girl than to be eaten.

Still, as she crept along the narrow passage between cellars, Orana's hand gripped tight in hers, she pretended she was playing the Rabbit Game again, that the footsteps she could hear distantly were her father's, that the worst that would happen if they were caught was that she wouldn't be taken out to the market for sweets. Panicking wasn't how you won the Rabbit Game. If you froze, or you made too much noise, they'd catch you easy as anything.

Run, Cara-hase. She ran, as light on her feet as they'd practiced, making cushions of air beneath the soles of their shoes to catch them before they could clatter. She heard, distantly, a shout that sounded a little less muffled, and felt Orana squeeze her hand and try to muffle a sob. She tightened her grip, and kept running until she felt her outstretched hands catch on the false panel that led to the clinic. She closed her eyes, remembered her father's voice in her ear: Just above your head, there are three nails to press on. The second, then the third, then the first, got that, little rabbit?

She was taller now - they were on a level with her breastbone - and she pressed down on them until she heard the reassuring click of the door opening. She pulled Orana through and closed it softly, collapsing against it. The passage continued round a corner, and hopefully the- whoever was chasing them would follow it rather than them. She'd done it. She'd won the Rabbit Game, and they were in the clinic, and Daddy would be here and tell her everything was alright-

Orana was staring at her, and she realised she'd said her names three times, and she hadn't heard. Why hadn't she heard? She was meant to be listening, meant to be calm and grown up, but she felt suddenly small and shivery and scared.

"Cara," Orana said, crouching to take hold of her shoulders, as if she was a very little girl. "Do you know where your father is? He seems to have- stepped out, for a moment."

That didn't make sense. Mama had gone to the Gallows, she said, to make sure the mages were safe, but Daddy had said he'd be at the clinic. He was supposed to be at the clinic-

Cara's breath was quickening in her throat, and now she really wanted to cry, which was stupid, because nothing bad had actually happened, and at any minute her father would be back and would explain everything. Nothing was actually wrong. Nothing was actually wrong, because if something was actually wrong-

She could hear the sound of people rushing around outside, of crying and screams, of wood cracking, and she knew in her bones that something was Actually Wrong, which made no sense. If something were that badly wrong, Daddy would be at the clinic, making sure people had a safe place to go, that anyone who was hurt was taken care of. And yet, the clinic was empty, holding nothing but a silence more horrible than the noise outside when it should have held warmth, comfort, safety.

"I don't-" She swallowed, tried to make her voice less shaky, because she had to be brave, because Orana was probably more frightened, "I don't know where he is. I- he'll be back soon."

It didn't feel like he'd be back soon. The surgery was too tidy. Daddy's desk was usually piled high with papers she wasn't supposed to look at or (when she was too little to understand) draw on. Now it was swept clean, his healer's kit sat neatly on the chair, as if waiting for him to return with far more patience than Cara. It felt wrong in a way she would not have the words for for years. It felt like he was already gone, and fear sank into the hollow between her ribs and made her heart flutter like a caged bird.

"I- I'm sure he will," Orana echoed her, and squeezed her shoulder. Cara wished she hadn't. Orana was not a very good liar.

A fist slammed into the door to Darktown, and they both flinched at the sound. Orana shoved her down under the desk, so hard and so sudden she slammed her head against it and cried out.

"Ow, Orana-!"

The rapping came again, more urgent this time. Orana's hand clapped down over her mouth, her grip on her shoulder painfully tight.

"Please!" A rough voice called from outside, "For pity's sake, if we ever needed a healer, it's now!"

Cara was not a healer, was barely even a mage, but when the banging came again, she knew what her parents would have done. She wrenched herself from Orana's grip and ran to the door, yanking it open. Outside there was a small crowd of people, pressed tight against the clinic's wall to hide from the chaos outside.

She looked up at them, feeling suddenly very young and very out of place in her pretty embroidered dress with its fine ruffled petticoats. Even of the smallest of the children looked older and more tired than she'd ever felt. She swallowed, looked up at the nearest grown-up (a man, heavily scarred, bleeding from a deep cut on his scalp, and said: "He isn't here, but- I can help you, or try."

He stared down at her through his one remaining eye, and she felt a little sick. "You're just a kid," he said, with something like disgust, and she almost wanted to cry. Then she felt Orana's hand on her shoulder again, and realised that if she could be brave for Cara, when she was so much more scared of so many things, Cara would have to keep being brave for everyone else. She wondered if her mother had ever felt like this - too small and too frightened and having to do the brave thing anyway, because there was nobody else to do it. She hoped not. Being a hero shouldn't feel like this.

She swallowed down the sick she could taste at the back of her throat. "Maybe, but- I'm all there is right now."

He made a scoffing noise, moved to wheel away, but another man, shorter, face badly bruised, caught his shoulder and gave him a glare. "D'you know anything about healing?" he demanded, and she wanted to say No, she wanted to say Go away, she wanted to say I tried to be nice and you're being rude, because nobody had ever spoken harshly to her before, but that isn't what a hero would do. That isn't what her parents would do.

So she put her hands on her hips and said, in her mother's voice: "I know everything my father taught me, and Orana knows some too. And- and if I can't help you, you can wait here until he comes back."

He would come back. He always came back. It was the promise he made every time he had to leave unexpectedly, and couldn't tell her when he'd be home. He'd kiss her forehead and say: I'll be back soon, Cara-hase, and I'll bring your mama with me. He hadn't said it this morning, but then, they'd argued this morning. He'd been in one of his black moods where only Mama could reach him, and she'd pestered him for attention rather than leaving well alone. Maybe that was why she couldn't find him now.

She shook that thought off and stood aside, letting the people flood in. Some of them were limping, supported by friends or family, or favouring arms that were clearly broken. Cuts and scrapes she'd seen plenty of - she knew from memory how to clean a wound out with elfroot, and Orana, steeling herself, could close up the longer or deeper ones with neat, careful stitches. She'd never seen bruises so dark or so big, but she spread spindleweed balm across them nonetheless and said calming things like There, all better, and It'll be fine if you're careful, even if she wasn't sure it was true.

"The tunnels keep collapsing," the man with the bruised face told her while she smeared gooey spindleweed across it, as his husband swore loudly through Orana's stitching. "Whatever happened up in Hightown, it's shaken the foundations, and the Templars… they're looking for- someone."

He cut himself off as he seemed to focus on her face for the first time. "You said your daddy would be back soon?"

She nodded. "He always comes back."

He sighed, looked past and through her. "They always do, kid. Until they don't."

She shook her head, tried to remind herself that he didn't know her parents, that they always came back to her. That they were heroes, and that meant they always came home. She told herself that over and over again as the hours passed, as more people flooded through the door - some she could help, most she couldn't, even as she rationed and diluted the few elfroot potions kept aside for emergencies, and she didn't feel like a hero at all. She felt like she was a little girl again, and school had finished, and nobody had come to collect her - the cold, uncomfortable feeling of being forgotten, mingled with the fear of something Very Wrong having kept her parents away. At least now she was busy - now she was helping people, if only a little. Then she'd had to sit in the Chantry while the sisters did evening prayers, the stench of incense making her feel sick and sleepy and even more forgotten than she felt now.

Like the last time, when her mother finally came, she burst into angry, relieved tears like a baby, and flung herself into her arms. She'd been trying to be a hero, or at least a grown-up, for far too long, and suddenly she was hot and tired and hungry and scared but her mother was here and those were no longer her problem to fix.

"Where's the healer?" someone demanded over her head, and she relaxed, waiting for the reassuring answer.

Instead, her mother said: "Gone," and that was when she realised that this was nothing like the Qunari attack, that her life would never be the same again. That the world could be cut into two neat halves by a single syllable.