#da:u

[lavellanlove]

“I told you I would find another way. Why would you not listen?”  “I could not afford to hope.” “Then both our worlds are lost.”

Dragon Age Uprising

[stayathomejester]

Okay so I’ve talked about this before! Now it has a name, and a blog so I can ramble there when everybody is tired of hearing me talk about it!

Once again, for those who don’t know, me and my datemate are writing up a fake dragon age game, that would take the place of dragon age 4!

It takes place a year after the events of Inquisition, in Tevinter, and the plot revolves around a slave uprising (hence the name). The player character is an ex-slave, who works to free other slaves, though the means of which will be decided through gameplay!

Right now the blog has a few character bios up, a note on gameplay, a little bit of plot, things like that!

OH and before I forget, we’re still looking for character writers if anybody’s interested!!

[lavellanlove]

47 from the drabble requests for Fenris?

Confession time? This is the first time I’ve written Fenris. I am nervous and excited, because he was my absolute favorite in DA2 and I am thrilled that we got a Fenaissance with Blue Wraith.

—————

Fenris jutted his hand through the door, gripping the locking mechanism hard and pulling it out with a sharp twist, much as he would a heart from a chest. 

Every time, some part of him hoped they’d be relieved at the prospect of freedom. But every time, it was the same.

They recoiled away.

Not that he blamed them. He knew too well how powerlessness stoked fear of the uncertain and unknown.

“I am the Blue Wraith,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. Calmly enough not to frighten them, but authoritative enough that they would trust he could protect them. “I have come to free you from this place. Gather your things. I have cleared a path. No one will stop you. You have my word.” 

Those in the small barrack glanced around at each other, low whispers passing between a few. Apparently some had heard the moniker, because they promptly began gather what meager possessions they had, wrapping them in their bed sheets and tying them like sacks. His partners in this operation waited by the door, ready to lead them all back out the way they came. Load them into carriages and get them as far from here as possible.

All but one who hadn’t moved, propped against the back wall. Whether she had distanced herself from them or they from her was not clear. By the vallaslin, Dalish. By the gauze, wounded. He could not help but notice she was missing her left forearm, but that did not seem a new injury.

He crouched down, offering her a hand to help her up. “Come.”

“Take them if they wish to go,” she said, hollow and resigned. “My place is here.”  

“No one’s place is here,” he snapped, immediately remorseful of how his words came out. It was not her fault this place that the pain of countless slaves echoed in the stone, that their despair flowed these caverns like a river of their blood. It was nearly deafening.

He wanted to raze this cursed place to rubble. Teach their oppressors the very same fear and pain they wrought. But he did not have time. With how many were captive down here, there would be more guards than the ones who had already fallen before him. Countless more. They were bound to show up sooner or later, and their arrival would undoubtedly make it harder for him to keep his promise to keep them safe.

Realizing the injuries might be the reason for her stubbornness, he softened a bit. “You need not stay because you are hurt.”

“I can take care of myself.”

He scoffed. “Bold words for a woman who I’d wager cannot stand on her own two feet at the moment.”

“I would only slow you down,” she insisted.

“I have carried swords heavier than you.”

As the others made their escape, it became even clearer that it wasn’t in his head; it was loudest here. Not just in these barracks, by her specifically. 

“I believe there are people looking for you.”

“You are mistaken,” she insisted. “I am no one.”

Indeed. “Magisters don’t go to this length for no one. It was the thrum of their tracking spell that led me to this place.”

She snorted humorlessly. “Not just Magisters; I’m sure a great many people would pay a handsome price for my head on a pike.” She gestured to the side with her head. “Or in this case, my blood in their magrallen.”

He had no idea what a magrallen was. He had a feeling he did not wish to know. Which in this case, with Magisters involved, meant he needed to seek it out. “That way? It should be destroyed.”

“No.” she said quickly. “No living person knows how to construct one. It may prove necessary in the battle to come.”

He scoffed. “There. You sound like a mage already. There is always a reason to justify more power.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand very well,” he growled. “The lyrium branded under my skin makes it rather hard to forget.”

“No. You don’t. This is bigger than Magisters and slaves. The fate of the entire world hangs in the balance. The lives of every being in Thedas. If Fen’Harel succeeds, everything you’ve worked for here and everything your friends work for elsewhere will be lost.”

“…what does this have to do with me not destroying that wicked thing?”

“He has power beyond what anyone imagined possible, and grows stronger every day. He can kill men in their sleep, or turn battalions to stone with a glance. Stopping him will require something extraordinary. And I have not figured out what that is, yet.”

His scowl deepened at the implication “You mean to say you are here on purpose?”

She shook her head. “Not like this. This was… a miscalculation.”

“Miscalculation? No. This was madness, thinking you could don enslavement like a cloak and shuck it back off again. How long have you been here?”

She was quiet for a moment, trying to think, wincing as though the idea of not knowing was almost painful. “I lost track.”

“It is a wonder it has not broken you entirely.”

“Hasn’t it?” she said, with what might have passed for a laugh with more spirit behind it. 

He just shook his head once. He had seen broken. Lived it. She did not understand how much further there was to fall.

“If you stay here any longer, you will find out for yourself. A fate I will not resign you to.”  Whoever she was, she was important to more than one Magister. Not as a person, but a tool. As he had been, once. He could not leave her behind.

He extended his hand again. More insistently. 

This time, she took it. 

Upon getting her to her feet, she staggered for a moment, holding her side and closing her eyes. She looked liable to teeter over, and he stood ready to catch her when she did. Only then did he notice the scraggly wisps of light under her fingers, trembling as she pressed them to her wound. He realized she was trying to heal herself.

“You’re a mage.”

“I’m a person. Having magic was not a choice I made, nor the choice I would have made if given one. I acknowledge it is here, but refuse to let it define me.”

He supposed that was fair enough. “What’s your name?”

“Avira.”

After a few moments, she took a deep breath, rolled back her shoulders, and took a shaky step, then another, gaining confidence in her strength and balance as she headed for the door.

But she was heading the wrong way, a fallen guard’s blade in hand, further into the bowels of this wretched place. She did so with what could only be described as a resolute sense of purpose.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Well, someone has to destroy their phylacteries,” she replied. She stopped for a moment, glancing over her shoulder. “Along with anyone who stands in my way.”

He chuckled dryly, hefting his sword off his back. There was no decision to be made. He would accompany her. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

[lavellanlove]

Six Sentence Meme

@thereluctantinquisitor​ tagged me, as though I actually write. Fortunately, the succulent lore nuggets of Tevinter Nights gave me the vindication will I needed to get back to thinking about Uprising. So here, even if I don’t end up using it, take a little bit of a tired and salty girl dragging a god from her imprisonment:

------------

“They follow you because you led them to believe if you succeeded, their world could be a better one. You called on them not for their own benefit, but for yours; unwitting foot soldiers for the war to come. Meanwhile here you are, collecting the blood of titans at the expense of the blood of slaves, all to fuel your ritual. Or to try, rather. You have no way to be certain whether this madness you attempt will even work. You do this not because it is rational or right, but out of millennia of misplaced guilt.” 

------------

Tagging @leothelionsaysgrrrr, @saphylee @trvelyans, and anyone else out there who has the strength to actually write. Teach me your ways!

[lavellanlove]

You can feel your heart beating, too much and not enough— Don't turn back. There's nothing left for you there. Not anymore. The ashes won't keep you warm.

Keep what you need of your hope, carve it into your bones when you run out of skin.

The sunrise fades from the horizon.

—when hope is lost, lovers make dangerous enemies | p.d vulpe     commissioned by lavellanlove

[lavellanlove]

Can I tell you how glad I am that I haven’t published the chapter of Uprising with slave liberation!Fenris yet?!? Blue Wraith is SO much cooler than the aliases I was tossing around. 

[lavellanlove]

[+]

The weight of a civilization rests on the edge of my blade. 

His voice shakes the very earth, eyes glowing with barely-bridled power, ancient and hoarded, but I can still feel his fingertips tremble as they touch my chin. The last remnant of the man he might have been were he not carrying the weight of a civilization on his shoulders, too. 

Perhaps humanity was just what he wanted me to see. He could have stopped my approach, petrified me in place, turned my weapons to dust and scattered my armies to the winds, eliminating his biggest threat and his only hope for salvation from a distance. Or perhaps he wanted to see how much of my own humanity I had sacrificed fighting for the same cause from the opposite side.

They say history is written by the victors, but there is no victory in this. Whether we will it or not, history will be written: either in his blood or mine. His peoples’ or mine. 

So I take the advice I’m sure he wishes he never gave...  Harden my heart to a cutting edge... 

And say one last goodbye.

@nipuni​ has blessed me with this stunning depiction of Avira & Solas in my DA:4-era fic, Uprising. It just takes my breath away. Every little detail is perfect: the pose, the composition, the expressions, the atmosphere, the attire...I could cry?! Did cry. Am crying. We’re still a long ways from the final confrontation between these two sad babs, but I was so inspired by this visual that I just had to write a bit of it. Thank you so much dear! You are a gem of a human being and a pleasure to work with. <3

[lavellanlove]

‘Find the Word’ Tag

Thanks for the tag, @idrelle-miocovani! I’ve never actually done this meme, so here goes nothing! Using Uprising, since its my only real WIP. Tagging @thereluctantinquisitor, @saphyremelodies, & @leothelionsaysgrrrr (along with anyone else who has long WIPs they’ve been neglecting) :P

Fiery (& Silent): 

He brought his staff to a rapid spin to deflect the attack, countering with a salvo of targeted, fiery blasts. 

Theocritus stumbled back, disoriented. 

Dorian took the advantage, summoning forth spirits of fear and directing them into his target. Theocritus doubled over in horror, eyes squeezed shut, his body racked with silent cries. 

He molded his terror into rage, breaking the spirits’ hold in a violent burst of energy. 

Red:

The glow of veilfire flickered in the rotunda. She moved close, expecting it to be exactly as Solas had left it. Instead, the scaffolding had moved, and the previously unfinished fall of Corypheus panel had been completed. The Dread Wolf, in the same style as it was depicted in the Vir Dirthara, stood over the Red Lyrium dragon, the Sword of the Inquisition piercing its heart.

Soft:

She must have been pretty once. She had the trappings of beauty: small frame, soft features, and deep brown eyes. And though pretty was no longer a word one would use to describe her, she was certainly striking. Though she couldn’t have even seen two decades, she looked impossibly old: her flowing hair brittle, already dusted with grey. Dark circles pooled under bloodshot eyes, wrinkles starting to form at their creases.

Hold:

“Where I’m from, the templars used phylacteries to keep mages confined to their circles.”

“Mages were locked away by their templars?” His eyes lit up. The idea seemed to genuinely please him.

“Yes,” she replied. “Many in the south believe mages too dangerous to be allowed to live freely.”

“Your homeland sounds like a wonderful place,” he smiled.

She decided to let him hold onto that thought, to not to tell him of the mage rebellion, the war, or of her own abilities. She simply returned his smile.

Your words are weary, faint, laugh, chest, here. 

[lavellanlove]

Ooh can you do 15 for the OC codex prompts for whichever of your OCs you'd like?

This was a fun challenge! I’ve actually never written Sera before. This is Uprising-era, written to Avira. (Obviously she only knows of the plan, and has no idea what has transpired since.) Transcription under the cut.

(Re: OC Codex Prompts)

Tevinter needs Jennys. And bees.

Avi,

Still wish you’d have come back with me. Noble nobs wouldn’t have stood a chance with both of us around! I recruited new Jennys, got it all back up and running, but something’s still not right.

Normal doesn’t feel normal anymore.

Keep thinking of you and Widdle up there.

Whys it gotta be you, fixing the elfy shit? Fix the world’s shite once and suddenly they won’t shove off and leave you in peace.

Is Tevinter all…Tevintery? Y’know, dark and evil and pissing magic and all that? Does Dorian cackle like a right Magister now? If he doesn’t, tell him he should.

(the text is interrupted by a lovingly rendered caricature of Dorian in a pointy robe, cackling maniacally, with the caption, “Muahahaha”)

You said you need new friends, people so small Dread Elfy won’t see ‘em coming. I can help, yeah? Find some new Jennys up there. With all those slaves, place must be rife with people who need a way to stick it to the pissbags in charge.

Way I see it, if we don’t get Solas’ big bald head out of his ancient elfy arse soon, he’s gonna ruin everything.

They got bees up there? I’ll bring a whole barrel.

[lavellanlove]

Will you be continuing your Uprising fanfic? I am absolutely IN LOVE. I finished the last chapter and I’m dying for more. Your writing is beautiful ❤️

ASfkgakgasf thank you so much! I am glad you enjoyed it!!! You have no idea how happy that makes me to hear. I absolutely will be continuing. I have just had a difficult year health-wise and at my job and haven’t had enough of me left over to write. Hopefully something will give soon! 

[lavellanlove]

I am so so so in love with your Uprising fic! This feels like I'm reading something professionally written for the Dragon Age series! 😍

Full disclosure, nonnie, I’ve been sitting here for about the past 15 minutes trying to figure out to adequately express how humbled I am. 

This is like, the most flattering thing imaginable. The kind of thing I always aspired to, but never thought I could achieve. But if I’ve done that for even one person, well, that means a ton. Thank you so, so much for reading, and for your kind words.  

(Re: Uprising)

[lavellanlove]

thereluctantinquisitor replied to your post:

Positivity tag! You writing is beautiful. The...

Anon is 100% right though and I just had the immense pleasure of binge-reading Uprising. MMMMHM. GOOD SHIT.

ASFKJFSD KAYLA YOU STOP THAT RIGHT NOW.

Welcome to hell, friendo! :D So honored that you like it. Thanks for reading!!!

[lavellanlove]

Can't sleep! Min Lavellan has her own tag. If ya want.

Avira hangs there limply, suspended on the magrallen. Her wrists and ankles are rubbed raw by the shackles on the auroboros, the majority of her weight borne by the leather band around her waist. The relentless pressure on her innards makes her want to vomit.

But that would cost her, as it has before, so she fixes her eyes on the giant globule below her that contracts in time with the beat of her heart, the sound echoing off the stone like a foreboding drum. It is always dark in the pits, so she has no sense of time, her pupils blown out in compensation for the absence of the sun. She is impossibly tired, but still unable to sleep or even die. 

She’s made a terrible mistake. How long has she been here? Had all her allies forgotten her, just presumed she was lost and pushed forward? She is not even sure that Solas’ reckoning in the heavens would reach them all the way down here.

Bitterly, she thinks what an arrogant fool she’s been, to assume she was the right person for this task. To have the gall to believe that she, somehow, was uniquely qualified or able. Apparently the power of the Inquisition had gone to her head without her even realizing it. Now, for an oversight so astounding as underestimating the effects of the fucking mark, their cause and her people were doomed, her resigned to languish here in indefinite penance.

Min wouldn’t have made this mistake, Avira knows. I should have sent her in my place. That is a woman with the will to do what must be done, and the full knowledge of what it would take to do it. Avira is a stranger in this land, and her ignorance has been her undoing. For Min, it would have been a triumphant homecoming. 

“I’m sorry…” she mouths to no one in particular, without enough breath left to give it intonation. Her tears splatter against the glass below. “I’ve failed…everyone.” She wishes she truly was a dreamer, as her master so readily believes. The risk to Feynriel is too great for him to stick his neck out to cover for her again, but gods, what she would give to be able to reach out, to have Min’s guidance. Something. Anything. Some beacon of hope. 

The Bleeder enters the room, with that sickeningly serene smile. She does not know how many more thresholds of pain he can bring her across, but she will consider it a mercy if today is the day her body finally fails. It is far too late for her now, so instead she prays to gods for the fate of the world. 

Too bad she doesn’t believe in the gods.

[lavellanlove]

Once I have a better schedule and more free time, I'm going to work my way through your stories.^^ Every time I see Uprising I get so curious.^^

Ahhh!

The world building has been a delight. The Proving Grounds, the Ambassadoria, the Publicanium, praesumptor...if it’s been referenced somewhere in the games, books, or comics, it’s probably going to be featured.  I also have a stable of both new and familiar characters waiting to make their entrance Turns out, there are a lot of axes to grind in Tevinter!

On a higher level, it’s a story about idealism and grappling with the cost of change. You’ve got multiple factions, each trying to save the world in different ways, sometimes even from one another.

If you do give it a read, definitely let me know what you think! I’ve only posted the first five chapters, so it isn’t a huge commitment yet.

Regardless, I hope your schedule improves. :)

[lavellanlove]

“No, no, I am but shadow of myself;   You are deceived, my substance is not here;  For what you see is but the smallest part.” 

 — William Shakespeare, Henry VI 

Avira Lavellan, before the Conclave (age 20), then during the events of Uprising (age 26). Art by the super-talented and lovely @wildfowler-art.

[lavellanlove]

Looking for a few good editors/betas for a DA:4 fic

Hey, loves! I am looking for editors/betas for my very slowly progressing DA:4 fic, Uprising! (Editors on a chapter-by-chapter basis to catch stupid mistakes or give quick reactions; Betas who are familiar with the whole work -or don't mind playing catch up- to assess the development of the overarching story) 

 Here's the Ao3, in case you are curious what's been published so far: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6933679/chapters/15816052 

If you're interested, feel free to send me a message/ask for more info!