#elves hunt for food

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Silvans are Nocturnal

No but seriously though, considering that the elves of Beriland very much did not have any form of light other than the stars until the sun came up, they probably feel more at home in the darkness of the night and this continues to be the way the silvans opperate through the ages. It helps that ultimately they do not interact that much with other elven realms so it’s not as if they need to change to accommodate them.

Furthermore, elves can stay awake days at a time, so when the silvans do need to interact with outsiders they can simply stay awake during the day when needed and leave no one the wiser.

A more tactical reason for the nocturnalness is that the enemy, the darkness is more active during the night and less during the day, so it’s safer to sleep during the day than at night.

I must emphesize that, due to their nocternalness, they also do not need much light to see in the dark, so at most you have faintly glowing plants or lamps throughout the settlement/stronghold/palace that are only strong enough to give a vague outline of the place, but not enough to give anyone any details. It makes it very hard for outsiders to navigate through the place during the night.

The silvans, of course, have no issue seeing everything clearely, allowing them to get the drop on many beings. Their eyes also have an odd glow to them, not like that of the trees, but it’s unique to the silvan folfk and other elves find it highly unsettling.

(Off topic, but i personally believe that the silvans stalk through the forests like leapards and jaguars, largely due to them, well, living in a forest with uneven ground surrounded by foilage that makes it hard to see enemies from far away. They also slink through the forest to hunt, getting a literal drop on their prey from the trees.

The way silvan’s behave is very different from any other elves (except maybe the avari and/or green elves) bc they do not reside in large cities with towering buildings and wide open space)

This in turn has the side affect of at least Thranduil and Legolas walking as if they were stalking their prey and everyone finds it highly unsettling and it makes them think as if the silvan royals are pissed off at sm1 bc surely that must be why they’re behaving as if they are about to kill.

This is why Thranduil got himself accidentally painted as a very scary and temporal elf when in reality he’s a legit chill, calm, and fun guy who likes to party.

HE’S NOT TRYING TO BE SCARY, OK, HE’S JUST A SILVAN TRYING TO LIVE HIS LIFE! (Read: get drunk and make merry)

Also:

Elrond, getting up at the crack of dawn to get to work: oh, Thranduil! I didn’t know you’d be up already!

Thranduil, whose internal clock demands it’s evening and is getting dinner: how the fuck do you function during the day

And:

Boromir, whose taking the night watch: *sees legolas* aY YO WHAT THE FUCK-

Legolas, staring in the general direction of Boromir while sitting perfectly still with a bow in hand bc for him it’s day: *waves* nice night

Aragorn, trying to sleep, used to this: stop being a creepy bitch, Las.

[attractthecrows]

Ilithra my beloved. Ilithra my darling my doll

[animefastfood]

McDonald's in Those Who Hunt Elves (1996)

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

So in addition to being pointy would fae ears be more sensitive than normal ears?

Like better at hearing? Mmmm. Maybe slightly? But it's mostly just aesthetic.

To really be better at hearing they would need to be able to move their ears. In general and independently. Or bigger ears in general (the base of the ear I mean)

So the point would improve their hearing a little bit but realistically they'd need a lot of other stuff going on to make a significant difference.

Or I could just say it's magic but tbh I don't really see the Fae as needing to hunt prey down? (Which is what the hearing would be for) I see them more as 'lure prey in' kinda hunters.

[schoenpepper]

Isekai'd Chronicles 5

Intro: Pomefiore in an isekai AU.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, Rook Hunt is a warning in his own right, some bullying, a duel, google translated French

A/N: The thought of elf Vil makes me want to do things. Cry, maybe. Thoughts on Neige in this AU: he's just a random pretty human celebrity that people are saying is prettier than even the elves (who are known to be hot af). Anyway, enjoy!

Masterlist

It's a really big deal when you have the future ruler of the elves standing in front of you, especially when said elf has blond hair and purple eyes and ungodly beauty. You knew your new friend Epel was going to bring about chaos, but you just had to befriend him anyway and let him hide out in your room in an act of (stupidity) kindness. Thus, you carved your fate in stone and you really only have yourself to blame when Vil Schoenheit is glaring at you and the elf that so courageously jumped out to defend you.

This is not what a smart 'reincarnated into a villain' would do, you know? You should be avoiding them, so why is it that you seem to be a magnet for trouble? This one's definitely on you, though.

He seems mildly impressed that you have the guts to actually stand up to him, and he invites you to Epel's etiquette lessons hoping that perhaps the purple haired elf would calm his rebel spirit when the lessons are happening with a friend. You accept stupidly because Epel's puppy dog eyes are very hard to say no to, plus, Vil's regal aura did not seem like he would even take no for an answer. It's not too bad, you tell yourself, especially since elf etiquette isn't too different from the kind you'd needed to learn from childhood. It also started from beginner level basics, because apparently, Epel was born in a part of the elven forest where there were no nobles at all.

Vil isn't a bad teacher, by any means. In fact, he feels more like a caring mother hen when he fusses over your clothing and teaches you about proper skin, hair, nail and everything else care. He gives you tons of homemade products and serums and cosmetics, and you smell like a bouquet of flowers by the time you're done with the routine he'd set up for you. Time spent with him is soothing almost, and you eventually find yourself spending time with him even without Epel, outside of etiquette lessons. He goes out shopping for clothes with you as he teaches you about elf fashion, and you talk to him about human celebrity scandals that you'd seen in magazines. He lets you try makeup on his perfect face when he has nowhere to be, and you concoct healthy meals in the kitchen with him to try to make delicious food that still passes his caloric and nutrient standards.

Vil won't kill you. He's above that, you're sure. Then that's another capture target down.

There's just no way you can keep your eyes off Vil, you know? He's ethereal, too beautiful to be human. Because he's not, he's an elf. Lilac eyes meet your own in confusion when you hand over the small bouquet of lilacs to him.

"What is this for, potato?" You give him a proud smile and answer. "My lilac flowers bloomed, senpai. I planted them a while ago, but this is the first time they've had such pretty blooms. They reminded me of the color of your eyes, so I thought I'd give you some!"

There's amusement and...something else that's lingering in his irises, but you can't quite put a finger on it. He takes the bouquet. "I must thank you, then. These are lovely."

Some people have gotten on your nerves recently. You know who they are, they don't hide their snickers when they pull their stupid childish pranks. But they hide it well in public even when you know they mock you for 'sucking up to everyone', but you're not a suck up! They're your friends! In any case, you're also a duke's heir, so they definitely have a lot of guts to be picking on you. If you were any more cruel, you'd sic Floyd or Jade on them (or Floyd and Jade if you were feeling particularly sadistic), but you decide to call them out instead and challenge their dumb leader to a duel. So there you were, sword against the other person's neck and they use magic and that's not in the rules! Right before the flames catch onto your hair, an arrow whizzes past your ear (the PTSD from your childhood has you frozen in place) and grazes your enemy's arm. It wounds him but he's not going to die, so you call out to the referee and the duel is your win!

You still tell Floyd afterwards because you were pissed the guy had the audacity to cheat.

When you look up past the ring, you see another blond elf, this time with a bob cut and clear green eyes the color of peppermint leaves. Your savior tips his hat to you as he puts his bow away with a smile on his face.

Your savior is Rook Hunt, Prince Vil's most loyal retainer.

You really are a trouble magnet. But it won't do your noble upbringing justice if you don't pay him back, right? He did save your reputation after all, maybe even your life. Thus, the following days are spent with Rook, giving him gifts and doing everything you can to pay back the debt of whatever weight you thought that duel carried. He treats you like a friend even though you're sure you've never met him before, and he lets you stay in his room to help him scrapbook photos of Neige LeBlanche. He teaches you how elves wield a bow and arrow, and his eyes light up when you invite him over to your manor for the weekend to hunt some monsters that loitered around the edge of the woods. Typically, your family's knights would handle the culling, but he seemed to find killing monsters with you as a fun pastime so you do as he wants to.

He sits you down and tells you he really enjoys spending time with you, and that you shouldn't think of it as a debt to be repaid anymore. And surely, this very nice elf won't kill you...right?

You gingerly cross him off the list.

"Rook senpai, I'm glad I found you." You walk over to the bush that wiggled weirdly earlier, and you're not surprised when a blond elf pops out of the foliage. You show him the item in your hands. "Look! I got you a limited edition signed photocard of that Neige. This hasn't been released yet, so I know it's not in your collection."

You swear there are tears in his eyes as he captures you in a hug, laughing wildly. "Merci mon amour! C’est vraiment merveilleux, oh, je comprends maintenant pourquoi tant de personnes sont tombées amoureuses de toi."

You don't know what he said, but you're glad he's happy.

[yellosnacc]

Once again a creature from the continent of Slomen. A very primitive but also very specilised critter. 6 to 30 cm long, wet roots up to 45cm.

They live in many aquatic environments but most often you will find them in forest rivers and lakes. Some species have even adapted for life in the sea and could be considered fully aquatic while still air breathing.

Majority of the clade feeds on small animals like invertebrates sometimes parts of plants they can digest. Their hunting strategy is either burst swimming, jumping or just sliding on top of some slow prey.

There were two important species that started life on land, with the leaf ancestor being a smaller, less land specilised of the two. Leafs are one of their earliest evolutionary branches as land vertebrates and have retained many acient features like paw suckers and teeth instead of claws. In bigger vertebrates most of these little teeth were lost and became true claws or fingers (even present on the other land climber ancestor).

They can actually eat with their feet that are still closely connected to their stomach. But it applies only to very small food particles.

The wets are not very culturally significant but some regions do eat them. But the thick mantle isn't very tasty. In some places they symbolise good harvest season.

These little guys are also related to the 'birds' of Elve and I'm sure you can see why.

[mushroomates]

aragorn headcanons:

sketches in his free time. likes to draw plants he’s come across, writes down descriptions for later. makes maps and draws animals.

cannot draw people, for the life of him.

except for arwen. draws her all the time.

used to very bland food, cooking on the road. prefers unseasoned meat, likes to taste the “natural flavor.”

dislikes nutmeg. cinnamon feind

favorite cookie is oatmeal raisin

has very grimy hands all the time. it’s never ending. even after he washes them, it’s like immediate dirt and grease

current theories are: his sword is just really dirty, his clothes are dirty so when he touches them it makes them dirty, or legolas’s favorite- humans naturally produce grime so the dirt is a natural protective layer above the skin.

in actuality it’s because he knows it grosses (some) elves out and likes to be a menace. specifically targets erestor. legolas will also go great lengths to make sure aragorns hands star far, far away from his hair

knows some card tricks. has great slight of hand specially because of these card tricks. didn’t really do anything with this until pippin discovered this fact and aragorn was forced (politely asked) to preform for the hobbits.

this is, in spite of the fact, that they all know a literal WIZARD (gandalf was salty at abt this “false magic”) and also a ring that turns ppl invisible??

sews. really well, actually. enjoys it but rarely showcases this talent- mostly patches and mends garments weathered by his lifestyle. would one day love to sew a dress for arwen but doesn’t know where to start

masterful at subtly deflecting compliments.

very generous with compliments of his own, but are again, subtle.

years of living with elves has made him quite reserved. yet, he is doing his best to unlearn this behavior. such examples include:

telling arwen he loves her. telling elrond he loves him. telling frodo he loves him. really just telling everyone he loves them. he’s even worse when he’s drunk- he rarely gets even tipsy, but under the influence of a fine wine (or mead, he prefers mead or ciders) he will get very emotional.

hugs!! aragorn loves to give hugs. he really tries his best but they’re a bit awkward at times. he’s getting better.

breaking away from the elven raw-diet and dine seasonings with grilled meat and more lately grilled everything.

he will try his best to cook for himself at any opportunity. it was a jarring shift going from being served gourmet eleven dinners to raw venison

love language is acts of service. he likes to cook for his friends, though he’s not as good as it as sam, who cooked a majority of fellowship meals, so he mainly hunts. then legolas offered his hand and gimli felt challenged by that and at this point boromir just felt excluded-

he just wants to do nice things for the people he cares abt.

arwen has not, for a good chunk of her life, tied her own shoes, peeled her own oranges, made her own tea, or woken up without breakfast being made or ready for her.

just. guys. he really really loves arwen. he will do anything for her and it’s almost obnoxious.

it IS obnoxious if you ask legolas. but this is why aragorn does not go to legolas for romantic advice. (legolas once told aragorn that the next time he ties her shoes he should tie them together so that when she falls he will catch her. this is why arwen stoped flats with ties and opted for anything she could slip on instead.)

will never cheat at any sort of game. he will get extremely upset if you accuse him of such.

he does not believe that counting cards qualifies as cheating. boromir strongly disagrees. he mainly sticks to chess, now

is not allowed to play chess with erestor, (sore loser and prone to trash talk) elrond (matches take to long due to overthinking on both ends and this annoys arwen to no end) and either of the twins (they cheat by working as a team)

would 100% believe in bigfoot.

[sldlovescartoons]

Just a thought, Essek and Yasha would definitely have some wild-ass conversations about food. Once he got a bit more comfortable and started to get more open to sharing, they would find out that the drow had a lot of opinions about food. Because Essek is a fancy elf, but he’s also a drow who lives in the sundered wastes of the God War. The others think what Yasha eats is weird, but Essek thinks HOW she eats/prepares it is weird. Because the dark elves just refine under dark/wastes ingredients into fancy foods.

“Lights sake, at least fry them first.” Essek says after watching Yasha eat a cricket she just picked up out of the grass before realizing what he said, how much of a dick he sounded like, apologizing, and promptly throwing himself into dissociation for 30 minutes.

They prepare giant spider legs like they WANT to get poisoned. They need to be throughly washed and cooked at VERY high temperatures, you absolute maniac.

The Nein are worried that the two are going to actually come to blows over the proper ways to prepare Rat, and Yasha is insisting on grilling and barbecue and Essek is offended because “When I was 44 the tunnel to our hunting grounds collapsed and the chefs had to supplement all the meats they got from the Underdark with livestock and lots of Rat. They found dozens of ways to cook rat that year, and you have listed none of them! Not even a mention of any cranberry and date fillings- absurd-“

And like everyone is glad Essek’s opening up and they don’t want to put a damper on it but Yasha is actually going to kill him. But they also have no idea how to even approach these conversations at all because they have no stake the Great Fried Cricket Debate.

[thana-topsy]

SKYRIM OC ASKS

I wanted to make a more in-depth and lore-building set of questions for people's Skyrim-specific OCs! This can be used as an ask game, or if you just want to answer them all without waiting for people to ask, have at it!

(Thanks to my good fandom buddies for all the suggestions!)

Which areas of Skyrim do they find most beautiful and most dangerous?

Which cities do they prefer to stay in and why? Which cities to they avoid at all costs?

What are their religious affiliations, and how does their worship (or lack thereof) affect their day-to-day life?

Do they believe the College of Winterhold caused the Great Collapse? If no, what is their theory?

Would they be able to live off the land if they were lost in the wilds of Skyrim? How skilled are they at foraging and hunting?

What is their opinion on Skyrim's "bandit problem"?

Do they regret journeying to Skyrim? Or, if they were born in Skyrim, do they wish they could leave?

What is their favorite kind of food that can only be found in Skyrim?

Do they believe in snow/sky whales?

Are they a part of any factions, guilds, or organizations?

If they are a magic user, what is their favorite school of magic? Do they have a natural talent for magic, or does it require diligence and study?

What are their prejudices? What groups have they come to think of as 'other'? Mages? Nords? Elves? Lollygaggers?

Do they believe the old nordic tales about the Dragonborn? If they are Dragonborn how has their experience differed?

Who is their mentor? Who do they go to most for lessons?

How do they feel about consorting with daedra? Do they collect their artifacts? Are there some they would never interact with vs. some they would consider calling upon?

What are their opinions on the civil war? Do they support a side or leave them to their own devices?

Do they have family? Who doe they consider to be family?

What is their stance on taking a life? Do they kill without a second thought, in the name of a god or daedra, or do they adhere to pacifism?

How are they with money? Do they hoard, or do they spend until their pockets are empty and they have to find work again? Have they saved for any houses?

Can they read?

[spacebarbarianweird]

The Skin I Hate

Astarion wakes up from yet another nightmare but this one brings even more disgusting memories that he is used to.

TW: Mentions of SA, mild self-harm Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, f!tav, established relationship, post-game Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The weird perk of being an elf is being conscious when dreaming.

Non-elves are blissed with sleep, letting the dark void consume them for a night. Meanwhile, adult elves have to see their own past and re-live the memories in these few hours of meditation.

When it's good memories, it is a dream. When it's bad, it's a nightmare. And unfortunately for Astarion, his memories only fuel the despair.

"Here you are, boy," he hears his master's disgusting voice. "Such a handsome young elf you are."

Cazador is dead. It's not real. It's yet another nightmare that has come to haunt him. The old vampire was so pathetic he didn't even bother to hunt himself, fearing the only thing he could truly enjoy as an undead. There is nothing to be afraid of. Astarion stabbed him twenty-eight times, slaughtered him like a pig he was.

But nightmares keep coming, and there is nothing Astarion can do to stop them.

"You don't want to do this, but you are still doing it."

Astarion remembers everything. He doesn't remember his past when he could see his reflection or the sun, but his mind has preserved all the memories he wishes to forget.

The desire to peel his skin off. The dirty touches. The never-ending tortures and hunger. Sometimes, Astarion thinks this is the reality and the last two years are just a hallucination, an evil trick. Freedom, safety, a woman to hold. It’s all unreal.

Astarion is still locked in the tomb, isn't he? He is still in the kennel, flayed and beaten. He is still in his master's full power, doing every disgusting thing he orders.

… Astarion opens his eyes. He sees the wooden ceiling above him. He hears birds chirring in the distance - it's late afternoon, warm and sunny. Astarion can't understand where he is; the nightmare still holds a grip on his mind. The undead heart feels like a tombstone in the chest.

There is an urge to hide, run, and return to his master because the longer Astarion is absent, the more painful the tortures will be.

Then, he sees a set of armor, too small for him to wear. A travel sack with food he doesn't need, and a sword he doesn't know how to fight with.

Tav.

The realization resembles a lover's embrace, gentle and strong. It was indeed a nightmare. And this is the reality for Astarion. Freedom. A journey under the starry night sky. Days spent in shelters like this abandoned hut in the middle of nowhere.

And Tav's love.

Her trust, her caress. Her loud laughter at his jokes, her concentrated face when she takes care of her weapon and armor.

Their innocent mockery of each other. "Astarion, what does it say?" she asks, pointing at the board at the tavern. "Tav, I still can't apprehend how you lived up to being an adult without getting reading skills." "Oh, I am sorry I was too busy surviving! Not everyone is born in cities!"

His little brave Tav, whose heart is big enough for them both. His fierce companion who believes in him a hundred times more than he believes in himself. Her imminent faith in good, in people. In the chance, there is a cure for vampirism, in the idea that evil forces will always be defeated.

There was time when he thought Tav was just stupid. It took him a while to realize her faith comes from dark places. She knows the sorrows of this world no less than him, but she chooses to always see the light.

And Astarion chooses to be with her.

“Look what you have done to her”, something dark whispers in his ear. "She has to hide in shadows with you. If it wasn't for you, she could stay in the nearest village and sleep comfortably, but because of you, she has to stay here, in this wretched hole of a place. You are tainted with blood and pain, and you taint her as well."

Astarion tries to shut this voice up. But he can't. His own skin feels disgusting as if covered in acid sweat. His body is dirty. His touches are cursed. After everything he did, after everything done to him, after all these people he slept with, after everything happened to him in Cazador's mansion - he has no right to ruin Tav.

Astarion stands up, trying to shut the voice up. The hut is so small it suffocates him, but he can't go outside; the sun still shines.

"Damn! Gods damn you!" he screams, but the voice sounds hoarse as if he broke it in his sleep.

Maybe he did.

Nails dig into the skin, causing dull pain. Astarion makes a sharp movement, leaving deep pink strains on his left arm. Pain is pleasant and familiar. He keeps scratching the skin as if trying to peel it off.

Blood starts dripping to the floor.

The pain brings temporal bliss, and the sight of his bloodstained hand somehow comforts Astarion. Tears stream down the face - tears of desperation. Of darkness.

"Astarion," he hears a quiet voice. "Please, stop."

He turns his head and sees Tav. She wears her camp clothes, a pair of trousers and a shirt. Her hair is wet. She probably has bathed in the nearest river. Feet are bare and covered in soil. Astarion notices a blade of grass stuck between her toes.

Tav approaches him and makes him sit on the floor. He tries to drop the sleeve to cover the injuries as if it could trick her.

Tav gently touches his neck, avoiding the bite mark. Her touch is thoughtful, kind, and warm. She smells like sunlight. Astarion freezes, staring at the wall, not knowing how to look at her, not knowing what to do.

"What happened?" she finally asks. "I got used to your nightmares, but this is the first time you harm yourself."

"Nothing"

Tav sighs and stands up. For a moment, Astarion thinks she will leave him, but she just kneels at her travel bag and gets a healing ointment. He usually applies it to her after fights with monsters while she jokes, "You should see the other guy!".

The ointment prickles the skin and accelerates vampiric regeneration.

"Tell me," Tav asks.

He shrugs. "There is nothing to tell. Nothing you already don't know, just another nightmare. Tell me how the world looks under the sun."

"Astarion, you are my love and my life. But if you keep pretending everything is good when it's not, I will hit you with something heavy."

"You are so adorable when you try to threaten. Like a hissing kitten."

She laughs, and he can't take his eyes off her smile.

Then, Tav takes his injured hand in hers and caresses the knuckles. She waits for him to answer.

"If you woke to me trying to peel my skin off, would you want to know why?" she seriously asks.

He gulps. Of course, he doesn't need to tell now. Tav won't force him. He can tell her later when he feels more like it. Or never tell. It's his right for privacy. But it means Tav will be more preoccupied than usual, that the next sunrise she won't leave his side, that she will offer him her blood more than usual, more than she can give without complications.

Astarion can't do this to her even though he has a right to do so.

"I feel disgusting," he finally admits.

"What?" she is shocked. "Why?"

"I feel my skin is dirty, and no matter how strong I scrub it, I can't escape this feeling. I have done terrible, loathsome things, and the same things were done to me. Any time I touch you, I feel like I taint you, burden you with my own nightmares."

Tav is silent. Her eyes study his face. Is this remorse in her eyes? Sadness? Anger?

"Astarion. I am going to ask you a question", she finally says, "And you will answer it. You will not try to lie. You will not try to banter. You will tell me the truth. Did he force himself onto you?"

Astarion stares at Tav in disbelief. How can she know? How did she guess?

She touches his cheek, and it causes tears to flow again.

"Yes," he answers shortly and bites his lower lip. "Many times. Before he grew tired of me and sent me to the streets."

Tav doesn't say anything. Instead, she opens her arms and hugs Astarion, pressing his head against her collarbone. He can't see her face, but he knows there are tears on her face as well.

"How did you know?" he finally asks. "Tav … did anything… like that…"

"No, I was never assaulted. But every girl, whether she is an elf or dwarf or a human, a peasant, or a noble - knows such things. We are warned about it from a very young age. Even when it doesn't happen to us, we know someone it happened to. I think I guessed the moment you told me about your past."

"You disgust me," he remembers a cruel voice as if its owner wasn't the one who made Astarion disgusting.

She pulls away and kisses his forehead. "You are more than this. More than your trauma, more than your past. You are brave, smart, kind, even if you don’t want to admit it. I know what you are, what happened to you. It's a part of the deal. But please don't hurt yourself. If you do this, you continue Cazador's work. Because he would have mutilated you. The only thing he could not take away from you was your appearance, your face, your beauty. It was the only thing left from the past self. You can't see the reflection, but at least you know you look the same as 200 years ago. And your master needed it to lure victims. He couldn't take it from you without consequences for himself."

Tav puts her hands on his shoulders and looks at his eyes.

"Sooner or later, he would have found someone new, someone innocent to do your job, and he would have mutilated you. He would have taken the only thing you were left with. Every time you try to harm yourself, every time you hate yourself, you continue his job. I don't fucking want this. You don't fucking need this. The bastard is dead. You killed him. We can't change what happened to you. But it means he can't return either."

Astarion puts his hand on his knees and smiles. "I don't deserve you."

"You do deserve me, and I deserve you. There is no part of your body I find disgusting."

Astarion instinctively covers his bite mark. Tav notices it and gently removes his hand. She looks at the bite mark closely as if studying.

Long ago, they agreed he didn't want his bite mark to be touched, and Tav carefully avoided it. He couldn't know what this scar looked like but was sure it was repulsive.

And then Tav kisses the bite mark.

A shiver goes down Astarion’s spine, there is a forgotten memory of being bitten by a hungry monster who didn't know any better than to attack a weak, dying person.

There was a time when Astarion prayed to the gods to save him. Every divine creature he remembered – Lathander, Loviatar, Selune, Tyr, Savras – and a hundred more. No one answered. But what if someone did? He just needs to figure out which one is responsible for making sure Tav is born and survives through childhood, and who put her right in front of the Nauthiloid. When he does, he will become a man of this god.

Then Tav pulls away and looks at the entrance to the hut. "It's still hours till sunset. Is there something I can do to make you feel better?"

You don't need to do anything – the sole presence is enough.

"Сould you give me the book from my bag?"

Tav smiles and opens his travel bag. "There are two books"

"The green one"

"They are both green!" she pointed at the volumes, the cover of the first one was the color of wet leaves, and the other resembled a malachite.

"The one you like more."

Tav hesitates, looking at the covers, and then chooses the second one. When she sits beside him, Astarion wraps his hand around her waist.

"What does it say?" she asks.

"The History of the Western Heartlands," he opens the first page. "But you are going to read it yourself. I don't want you to be dependent on my reading skills."

"Oh", she pouts. "I knew you don't like reading to me!"

"I like reading to you," he says, "And I want to teach you to do the same. Come on, it's not difficult. I need to concentrate on something anyway, and teaching an adult person to read will definitely be a complicated task. I will read, and you will follow the text with your eyes, then I will ask you to repeat what I said. Deal?"

Astarion presses his finger at the first line. "The history of the Western Heartlands is a history of endless battles and destroyed empires.-"

Tav repeats after him. It takes them a few hours just to make it through the first page. He sees her anger when she can't remember a specific letter and almost childish delight when she manages to read the word without his help.

When the sun finally sets, they pack their bags. Astairon helps Tav to put her armor on, tightening the belts, and they leave together into the night.

"You do feel better, don't you?" she asks, walking a few steps ahead of him.

Astarion concentrates on his feelings. The disgust and fear feel like a distant nightmare, something he can easily brush off. Even the bite mark Tav touched so gently stopped causing so much mental pain.

"Yes. I feel great, my love."

[danger-xylophones]

King’s Herald Part 4

warnings: feminine titles (i.e. princess), Elrond has a slight OOC moment (it's for a reason, I promise)

masterlist | elves | king's herald navi

"Welcome home, ingaranel nin." Elrond's voice seemed to cut through the welcomings of all the other lords and ladies seated at the table.

"Thank you, Herald Elrond." You met his eyes and offered a solemn bow of your head, a sinking feeling of guilt pooling in your stomach.

Gil Galad looked between the two of you, "You've met?"

"Earlier, atar." You answered, thankful for the excuse to pull your gaze away from the young herald's.

"The princess and I met on the outskirts of the gardens earlier today, my lord." Elrond piped up, filling in the gaps you didn't wish to.

"I see," Gil Galad eventually uttered, "Well, I'm glad to hear you are acquainted. Please," he moved back to his seat at the head of the table, "Seat yourself."

With a small nod to your father, you averted your eyes and swiftly scanned for a place to sit. Currently there was one unoccupied seat towards the other end of the table. Away from Elrond so you could avoid any awkward conversation.

Unfortunately, just as you made a move towards it, a courtier seated next to Elrond sprung to his feet. "Oh, please, ingaranel, take my seat. It's at least closer to your father." He waved his hands in a subservient dismissal and scurried over to the chair.

"Oh," you gaped at him for a moment, stunned by the bad luck, "thank you, my lord." But, to keep face, you made towards the seat beside Elrond without raising a fuss. Without making eye contact, you settled into the chair beside him. He pointedly avoided looking at you, eyes fixed on the table. To avoid looking at him yourself, you looked up at Cirdan whose eyes had become set as he glanced between you and Elrond. Your face warmed, recognizing the look. He was disappointed.

"So, anel, tell me - how was the Greenwood?" Gil Galad's warm voice saved you for a moment, allowing you the chance to focus elsewhere.

"Good, atar. I would say I learned much under King Oropher." You began, folding your hands on the table and leaning forward to see around Elrond. "They have started attempts training owls to hunt for them. It's quite fascinating."

"Really?" He hummed, reaching for a goblet of wine. "How are these attempts going?" he took a sip and a courtier on the other side of the table mimicked him.

"Slowly, if I am honest." A servant appeared from seemingly nowhere to pour you your own goblet. You startled at their appearance. "Owls are stubborn creatures by nature. And seem..." you pursed your lips in thought, "disinclined to domestication."

Gil Galad hummed and set his cup down. "I recall Oropher's obsession with owls, he seemed to believe he could turn them into messengers." A bell rang as he finished speaking and a small crowd of servants appeared from the direction of the kitchen. They laid out a small feast on the table in absolute silence before bowing and leaving. You watched them go, hands falling to your lap. "Of course, I can't blame him for wanting a better way to communicate across his kingdom." Gil Galad broke the silence, resuming his thought where he left off. Carefully he served himself a few cuts of what looked to be duck before passing the ornate plate of food to his right. Elrond took it from him with a small nod. "We have been perfecting this with falcons ourselves."

You watched out of the corner of your eye as Elrond served himself and began to pass the plate towards you. "Really?" you hummed, accepting the plate and repeating the same process before passing it off. "And how are those attempts going?"

You saw your father's lips quirk into a swift grin as he procured a roll and started the process of passing food all over again. "Rather well, actually. The falcons are fast learners as well as fast flyers." He took a small bite of what you had correctly determined to be duck. "I am able to announce a decree across the entire kingdom in just four days now."

"As opposed to twenty when I was last here." You joked lightly. Despite Oropher's slow progress, he was making progress. Soon, your father wouldn't be able to be so boastful.

"Thankfully, those days are behind us, anel." A silence descended on the table, making you shift uncomfortably.

When the atmosphere became too suffocating, you looked to Cirdan. "Oh, Cirdan, Prince Thranduil had a question for you."

Cirdan lifted his gaze from his plate, a quizzical look on his face. "Oh? And what might the young elf want to know?"

"He wanted to know the best schematics for a boat that might potentially have to cut through ice."

"Really now?" Cirdan hummed, washing down a bite of greens with what looked to be water. "Quite a specific thing to want to know about."

"He's thinking of establishing trade with a nearby human settlement. Esgaroth? I think? Regardless, they're settled on the other side of the lake bordering the Greenwood." You took a small bite of food yourself. "Problem is, the lake starts to freeze every winter. Never fully, but enough that the people of Esgaroth are hesitant to trade during winter."

"Makes sense," Cirdan hummed, "I'd imagine they've built their livelihoods on fishing. Wouldn't want to risk damaging their boats during the winter then." He paused, a hand to his chin. "I'd have to think about this, ingaranel. I imagine if you could find a way to reinforce the hull you'd be relatively safe-"

"Tell me, anel," Gil Galad's voice cut through Cirdan's quiet musings. "Oropher spoke of how close you and Thranduil have gotten, do you have something to tell me?"

It was like someone had slapped you. You turned your head to your father so fast, skin unbearably warm. "Father, please. There is nothing between me and the prince. I adore him but he is like a brother to me."

Gil Galad raised an eyebrow, his face perfectly placid to contrast your outburst. "Easy, daughter. I meant no offense. I am aware that Oropher hoped you would fall for his son. I am glad you did not."

"I'm sure you are," you muttered under your breath as you shoved a forkful of food into your mouth. Beside you, you heard Elrond let out a funny little breath that you might've described as a laugh.

"Still, are there any courtships I should know about?" Gil Galad pressed.

You looked up sharply,

"What? It is a reasonable question." He pushed back.

You sent Cirdan a dry look only to find the shipmaster laughing into his goblet. You kicked him under the table.

"No. There is no one."

"A pity." He hummed. "Are you looking to find someone?"

"Atar, this is hardly the place-"

"I'm just making conversation-"

"Will you drop it?"

Gasps echoed from the far end of the table and you turned to find the gathered courtiers looking offended on behalf of the king. But, instead of feeling ashamed, you felt the familiar spark of indignation ignite in your belly. Were you not allowed to argue with your father? He was your atar before he became king.

"Sire, if I may-" one of the courtiers began to speak and your attention quickly zeroed in on him. He was a noldorian, tall with a thin, pale face and slightly too-big grey eyes. He was dressed in a deep maroon that brought out the silver of his hair. But you couldn't find it in yourself to appreciate your fellow elf's aesthetic beauty. Not when he was most likely going to tell your father that you were out of line.

"Please, Inariel, I do not need your input." Gil Galad raised a single hand and the elf sunk into his seat. "My apologies, anel. I meant no offense." He lowered his hand to his cup and lifted it in a sort of cheers, "Truce?"

"Truce." You nodded and returned to your plate, your head bowed in a mix of shame and vindication. King or not, Gil Galad was your father and you would speak to him as such. You would not be made to feel ashamed for it....

"May I be excused, atar?" You set your fork down with a quiet clink and raised your head to meet the king's gaze. He nodded a quiet ascent. Placing your napkin on your lap, you pushed your chair back and rose from your seat.

"Do you need an escort, anel?" He asked, eyeing you evenly. You were about to say no but thought better of it since your father knew of your propensity to get lost more than anyone. "Very well. Elrond, since you two are acquainted, would you mind showing my daughter to her room?"

Elrond, who had been just about to take a bite of his meal paused and slowly lowered his fork. "Of course, my king." He rose from his seat and offered an arm to you, "my lady?"

You took it, movements stilted as you tried your best not to show how uncomfortable you were. His arm, in turn, was hooked at an unnaturally sharp angle - jutting out from his side like a protruding bone.

Without need for further fanfare, he escorted you out of the dining hall and down an adjoining hallway.

The halls were darkened, the wall mounted candles dimmed by translucent, cream colored vellum domes placed around them. The softened light was meant to make you feel relaxed but it did little to abate the tension plaguing you and your companion.

Elrond walked with his head held high, his face placid, and posture ridiculously straight - he looked very much the part of a herald. And the part of a stick in the mud.

Gone was the gentle smile and relaxed air from your brief meeting in the gardens. Eradicated and replaced by the dry, boring energy of the elf beside you.

You found yourself worrying your bottom lip, torn between feeling sure that you had every right not to disclose who you were and shame at the thought that you had lied to Elrond and possibly embarrassed him.

"El..." you trailed off, perhaps you should act your role considering he was. "Herald Elrond," you amended, "I am...sorry for my deception earlier." He said nothing but you saw his eyes drift to your face. "While I don't think I needed to inform you of my station, I am sorry if I offended you by not doing so. Truly, it was not my intention."

Elrond made a sound you would liken to a scoff. But he did not speak, not until he had come to a stop before an ornate door you recognized as yours. "Tell me, ingaranel, if that was not your intention then why continue on a path that would ensure it happens?"

Anger surged, the insult not lost on you. "Forgive me, Elrond, I did not wish to be treated like your ruler so I did not disclose myself as such."

"You have made me seem dishonest." Elrond wrenched his arm from yours, his voice biting and exact.

"My choice to surprise my father is not a reflection on you."

"Now he knows I knew you were here and did not tell him."

"So tell him I commanded you not to say anything."

"I do not answer to you, ingaranel, not in the same way I answer to the High King. His word is law, yours is suggestion." The half-elf snapped and you found yourself taken aback.

"I am offering you an explanation for him and you refuse to take it. My father and his retainers will not blame you for following my command. They are used to my ways, and it is on their heads for thinking I would deviate." You found yourself hissing at the herald before you.

"Your ways are not the ways of Lindon." Elrond's voice was clipped, almost dark.

"Precisely, what is that supposed to mean?" you tried to keep your voice level but could hear even for yourself the depth of your seething.

Elrond stood up a little straighter and leveled you with an icy stare unbecoming of his warm eyes. "I have heard of your escapades and lack of decorum and seen them demonstrated for myself. It is of little wonder to me now why Gil Galad sent you to the Greenwood."

Stunned into silence, you could do little but stare at Elrond as you processed what he had said and the seemingly uncharacteristic venom in his words.

You both stood staring at each other, neither speaking whether because you could not think of what to say or because a passing party of elleth's had begun whispering to each other after spying you and the herald.

At length, you had enough and opened the door to your room. You were intending to simply shut the door without another word to the herald but some small, petty part of you screamed a better idea. Before you fully shut the door, you poked your head out at the herald. "Since my word is suggestion, allow me to make one, Herald Elrond," you raised your eyes to his and held him with the iciest stare you could manage, "Mind your tongue. I have no quarrel with you so do not force me to have one." Elrond's lips twitched but you continued before he had the chance to say anything. "Tell Cirdan that I would like to meet with him on the morrow. I will be at the Gray Havens come dawn's light."

"The King's welcoming ceremony for you is supposed to start at dawn." He stated, not breaking your stare.

"A pity, I won't be attending until noon." You started to close the door until Elrond wedged his boot in the way.

"He will not be pleased." The Herald insisted, holding the door open.

"I will not be pleased if I am set on display," you pressed the door harder against Elrond's foot, setting your own up to push his boot back, "He may speak to me about it if it truly bothers him and not through his herald. Good night, Elrond." With a firm kick to the bottom of his boot, you dislodged his foot from the doorway and slammed the door in the herald's face.

[missterious-figure]

Moon is... grumpy. He doesn't like to talk much and can be quite blunt. He has the natural ability to shape-shift. He hates humans, so instead of shape-shifting into one, he turns into an elf.

Sea angels are made by having a perfect pearl with no blemishes blessed in the full moon's rays. This transforms the pearl into a sort of "soul" and the body is formed around it. They are made as babies and need someone to care of them. Though any one could create a sea angel, most of the time, it's another sea angel who performs the ritual to gain a child.

Sea angels are hunted by greedy people for their black blood that can heal ailments, and is said to even bring the dead back to life. And if their tentacles are cut, pearls fall from the wound. A sea angel can only produce pearls the same color as their soul pearl.

When Moon was a baby he lived with his mother by the shore near an elf village. They were very nice and respectful towards him and his mother. This was because the elves made a deal with Moon's mother. In exchange for free food and a safety from poachers and monster hunters, his mother give them some of her healing blood and pearls.

But this little paradise didn't last. A group of humans, the servants of the Dark lord, were after a sea angel. These evil people were accompanied by a strange being, going by the name Eclipse. They found Moon and his mother playing in the waves together. And before Moon could understand what was happening he and his mother were netted and dragged to shore.

Moon's mother tried to defend her son and killed a few of the humans. But she was struck dead by Eclipse. There was such cold bitterness in his eyes as he told his men to take the body and Moon away with them. Moon was stuffed in the same bag as his dead mother, terrified of what was coming next. He was in the darkness for so long... he heard the evil humans talking about how "the blood needed to be fermented anyway for the spell" and "what to do with the little one?" Their cruel laughing etched it's way into Moon's mind forever.

The Dark lord's servants finally stopped at one of their hide outs. They pried Moon from his mother's corpse and tossed him into a cage. They left to go get some egg or something.

This is were Sun and Moon met. A few hours went by before the humans came back. They dumped Sun in cage right next to him. Luckily Sun was strong enough to help Moon break free and they escaped. After Moon and Sun discovered what happened to the poor golem's family, they decided to stay together. They swore they'd get revenge on this Dark lord guy... someday.

After along time passed and the two boys were alot more grown, they would frequently try and get as much information about the dark lord as the could from towns and whatnot. They would disguise themselves, of course. One day at a tavern in a small town they noticed someone else snooping around for information about the Dark lord. It was a human, but maybe... they could be useful...

[kradogsrats]

The last time Lissa cries is in Katolis.

As she rides away, she feels as if she'll weep forever—tears she can't stop flowing down her cheeks, ceaseless and steady—but when she crosses into Del Bar, her face and eyes are dry. Her parents welcome her back into their home. Her siblings and their children turning out to comfort her. Lissa smiles and thanks them, lets them embrace her.

None of them say, I told you so. Not outright, at least. She can tell some of them are thinking it.

Doesn't seem all that broken up about it, does she? Not a single tear.

Shush—let the poor girl be. Not all pains can be wept over right away.

But when her mother falls ill, she doesn't cry like her sisters do. When they bury her—when her father, always mountain-strong, is reduced to gravel in his children's arms—she has no tears to shed.

Nor does she weep for her brother's son—young and bright and brimming with promise—dead the instant his horse throws him, his neck snapped cleanly. He'd planned to marry his sweetheart, in a year or two. There's a funeral instead, the other boy's anguished tears a river of grief.

Lissa still does not cry. No matter the sorrow, her eyes sit in her head like stones, hard and heavy. Dry as bone, even as her throat closes and her chest burns like her heart is on fire.

There are no tears from her even for her second sister's husband, a sailor whose ship never returns from its last journey through the spring storms. Her sister holds her own shattered pieces together for the sake of their small children, and the family rallies to support her with food and chores and company. They cry with her, late into the night—all of them, except for Lissa.

Cold as the heart of Hinterpeak, that one.

You're surprised? She married a mage, she was cursed from the start.

Then she abandoned her children in the snake's den, when she'd had her fill of him and his poison.

I suppose it takes a monster to love a monster.

What could she tell them—that Viren had meant no ill? That she'd been the collateral damage of a miracle, a negligible cost for saving a child from death? That her children were better served by staying with a father who loved them so fiercely than by their broken mother dragging them away?

That when he'd stumbled in half-mad, his face scarred beyond recognition, ranting and raving his demands that she weep to save their son, she had refused? That she'd feared what he might take from her, as if anything she possessed could be worth more than Soren's life?

That when his hand twisted in her hair and the cold glass pressed against her cheek, she cried not for Soren, but for the man she'd loved and the monster he'd become?

That, most of all, she had cried for herself?

She stays quiet, and does not cry.

Her father finally passes, never recovered from her mother's loss, and her brother approaches on behalf of the family. We love you, Lissy, you know that—but we think it would be best if you didn't come to the funeral.

Lissa's heart burns, her throat clenched tight against any protest, and she nods. She leaves that night, vanishing into the mountains. No one comes looking for her.

She settles outside a remote village, in a tiny hut halfway up the mountain, more a hunter's seasonal shelter than a house. She busies herself with survival—tends a garden, hunts and forages. Down in the village, she trades the pelts of what she can trap, and sometimes plays the decrepit, barely-tuned piano in the tavern for coins.

That's where she hears of the great march on Xadia. King Viren of Katolis, leading the united Pentarchy to end the threat of dragons for good.

Lissa returns to the tavern every day after that, desperate for more news—it's barely a week later when she hears he's dead, his army broken by an alliance between the elves of Xadia and those loyal to King Harrow's son. There is no mention of her children in any of the garbled rumors.

It's almost a relief, that she doesn't cry for Viren.

But Soren would be old enough to have joined the Crownguard, just as he'd always wanted. With two kings dead in such quick succession—first King Harrow, and then, somehow, his own father—could she even dare hope he still lives? And Claudia, so fascinated by magic, even when it tore their family apart—had she succumbed to all its dangers? Would Viren have let her walk a different path, if she chose?

She imagines going back, demanding to know what happened to her son and daughter—if Viren remained in a place sufficiently prominent to somehow become king, someone has to know. She imagines seeing them again, being able to run to them and take them in her arms. She imagines crying, then—a decade of stolen tears released in a flood of joy and relief.

Then she imagines their revulsion at the mother who left them, should she be unable to shed a single tear of grief or regret.

Lissa stops going to the tavern. Her heart burns as if its falling to ash.

She doesn't cry.

[sserpente]

A/N: What if you accidentally pickpocket the wrong person? What if that person… is a rogue vampire elf who will demand something in return? Something… red? (Astarion's not ascended in this one)

Words: 1180 Warnings: mentions of prostitution

Your stomach was rumbling. How many days had it been? Three? Four? Truly, it had never been this bad before. Ever since Gortash had become archduke, the city was drowning in chaos and misery. Benevolent and generous people who’d usually slip you a coin or two walked on now, avoiding your quiet pleas to spare some change for a starving woman.

You didn’t want to do it but what other choice did you have but to pickpocket people? In the dead of winter, merchants rarely left their food out for too long and the taverns were not busy enough to slip your hand into a bag or two.

The streets were your best bet now that the sun was retreating and lit torches threw their warm light on the cobblestones, creating eerie shadows wherever you looked. Your victim would have to be someone rich, someone who could afford to part with currency. Someone like… him. Heavens, he was gorgeous.

A noble, for sure. He was elegant. Full white hair, pointy ears indicating he was a high elf, no doubt… clean and sophisticated clothing. Surely his pockets would be full and he wouldn’t miss a couple of gold coins disappearing to fill your belly with food tonight.

You approached, snaking past a passer-by to wait for the right moment. The elf turned… giving you just enough movement to dip your fingers into the small pouch attached to his belt. One, two, three, four… five gold pieces should be enough to buy yourself a warm meal tonight and perhaps some bread to feed you for the days to come.

“Why, you insolent little…” Panic washed over you when he spoke with a start. The elf’s gaze met yours as he flipped around—red orbs boring into your own, anger flickering in his. His hand snatched your wrist in a tight grip before you could yank it back and flee.

“You have picked the wrong target, darling.”

“I’m sorry… s-sorry, don’t… don’t tell the Steel Watch, please! I’ll leave.”

But it was a different kind of hazard this stunningly beautiful elf was radiating. Red-eyed elves were rare in itself but there was something else—something that told you that you had just made a very grave mistake in provoking this particular stranger before you.

“The Steel Watch?” The elf laughed. “I have no interest in reporting you to the Steel Watch. But in all honesty… you could help me out with something else.”

He was charming—more than you would have liked to admit. There was a sweet tone of seduction in his voice that went down like honey, so much so that you almost wanted to agree with him. But if there was one thing you had sworn to yourself, it was that you would never sell your body to ensure your survival.

“I… no. I don’t do… that.”

“What?” Anger appeared on the elf’s face. No, you realised… it was actual appalment. “I didn’t mean… I am talking about your blood, dear. You smell delicious.”

The thought of him being a vicious murderer on the hunt for the next thrill crossed your mind like a slap in the face—but your theory was rapidly disproved when he flashed you a disarming smile. Fangs. He was a vampire.

Your eyes widened, fear now fuelling your body more than the adrenaline ever could. You twisted your wrist, desperate to break free from him. But the relentless hunger had made you weak.

“Now, now, darling, no need to be scared. I am very, very… nice,” he said slowly, purring each and every word.

Dragging you after him before you could utter another word of protest, he slipped into the shadows and a dark side alley. A rat fled as you stumbled against the wall, abandoning the rotten carrot it had been gnawing on.

“I told you, I’m sorry. Please… don’t kill me,” you breathed out.

“Kill you? I’m not going to kill you. I just need a little taste. I was going make do with a drunk tonight but this… this is much better.”

He sighed when you squirmed, resulting in his large body pressing you even further against the brick wall. Your dirty dress scraped against the rough material. You lifted your head, biting your lower lip.

“How about this? You let me have a little nibble and in exchange, I’ll let you have the gold pieces you were going to steal from me. I’m not much for charity but I can work with a little… transaction.”

He would… was he serious? You blinked at him, surprised at yourself for even considering his words. If you accepted, would this truly be any different from selling your body in more intimate ways?

“I promise I’ll be gentle. You won’t feel a thing.”

“You know, most vampires would have ripped my throat out already,” you said. Your voice was a little shaky but you stood your ground. You had no choice, after all.

The stranger smiled. “I’m not most vampires, darling. Besides, I’m only a spawn, so you should consider yourself lucky. So? What do you say to my little proposition?”

“I…” Your stomach growled again, making the decision for you. “F-fine.”

“Excellent. My name is Astarion.”

You told him your name with a stutter following his seductive smile. Each and every muscle in your body tensed when he leaned forward, brushing your hair out of the way to reveal your neck to him.

One moment you could feel his hot breath against your skin, in the next you felt his sharp canines breaking it to draw blood. He’d held his promise. The initial pain subsided so fast that you questioned whether it’d been there to begin with. His mouth closed around the wound he caused, sucking your life essence out of you sip after sip after sip.

It felt… good. You’d expected it to be uncomfortable, to be dancing on the edge of unconsciousness or even death but this… perhaps he’d been just as hungry as you. Perhaps he’d been just as desperate as you. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

Your eyes fell shut as you gave in to the soothing sensation. Astarion moaned against your neck, a wordless sound of approval of your taste. You couldn’t help but feel flattered when he finally pulled away and licked his lips, a small trickle of blood staining the right corner of his mouth.

“Hmm… thank you, darling. That was…”

“Astarion! Astarion! Where the hells did he run off to now? I swear if he’s stealing scrolls from Rolan again, I will…”

The vampire rolled his eyes all the while you kept catching your breath from this unusual and strangely… erotic experience.

“I’m coming, Gale. Gods, the man is a nuisance.” He paused. “I shall hope to see you again, darling. You were delightful.”

Astarion slipped away gracefully, leaving you to sink down against the wall but before he did, he gently placed the entire gold pouch he’d been carrying in your palm with a sly smile.

Against all reason… you were hoping to see him again too.

[misstycloud]

Yandere!Hunter x Elf!Reader

Yandere!hunter who is the village’s loner. He rarely talks to anyone else, instead he prefers to keep to himself in his cabin secluded from the town.

Yandere!hunter who has heard legends about the kinds of creatures living in the forest nearby, the one that almost no one goes into. Well, except him of course. The place was gianourmus and hard to find the way out the moment you set foot inside. It was like a maze. One you’ll be trapped in forever if you weren’t careful.

Yandere!hunter who regards himself as a logical man and therefore doesn’t believe a word of those silly tales. They were just bedtime stories for kids, something parents used to keep them out of the woods.

Yandere!hunter who goes into the woods in hunt for prey, he needed meat to sell at the market; also he was in urgency of food on the table. He had to eat and lazing around the cabin wouldn’t solve anything.

Yandere!hunter who definitely doesn’t believe in things like elves. Ethereal, intelligent and magical, how could a perfect being be real. They don’t exist. But how come he met you?

Yandere!hunter who was just as surprised as you to come across another creatures on your adventure through the high trees. You immediately raised your guard when you saw him. He was a stranger, a potential threat to your life.

Yandere!hunter who was taken aback by your beauty. No one he’d ever seen before could compare to you. There was just something about you that instantly drew him in like a moth to a flame. You were obviously not a mortal, that was for sure. The hunter started thinking back to the legends, perhaps they were in fact true. There really were magical creatures such as elves living in the woods.

Yandere!hunter who lowered his weapons to show you that he wasn’t intending on harming you. Then he slowly inched closer to you, barely daring to breathe in fear of you simply being an illusion of being there for too long.

Yandere!hunter who is overjoyed when you don’t run away and chose to stay and talk to him. It had been a while since he last held a conversation longer than two sentences.

Yandere!hunter who is desperate when you say you needed to go home and begs you to meet with him in the same spot the next night. He had to speak to you again, he must get to know you more. Luckily you agree to his request, albeit a bit reluctantly at first while looking over your shoulder deeper into the forest. As if you were worried about something in there.

Yandere!hunter who is thoroughly enjoying the conversations you two share every night. Not only were you wonderful on the outside, you were heavenly on the inside too. So kind and full of life, always curious about things and willing to learn.

Yandere!hunter who thinks your pointed ears are just adorable and let’s you feel his own rounded ones. How your face lits up when you are allowed to touch his ears is so cute, he thinks.

Yandere!hunter who absolutely loves when you ask him questions regarding his life. You showed interest in him! He answers all questions honestly, only wanting to reveal himself to you. You were the first person to ask him about his day and his likes, it warmed his heart to the point of it feeling like it’s going to explode.

Yandere!hunter who is sad when his inquiries concerning your life is responded with vague and short replies. You say that you can’t really tell him that much about your society, that it would be unfair to the others.

Yandere!hunter who realises he can’t live without you in his life. He must have you with him. What if you’re not safe? What if someone’s being mean towards you? What if another comes for your hand?

Yandere!hunter who won’t let anyone else have you when he needs you the most. The next time you meet, he supposed he’ll have to convince you that he is a much better option and you’ll be happier with him.

[lafaiette]

Also, can we talk about magic? i suppose they wanted to make the game more luring to new players, but magic used to be rare, closed under the lock and feared. Mages were feared and cosidered dangerous. Tevinter was an execption, not a general rule. How come people forgot only ten years ealier there was a regular war between mages and chantry, the very reason Inquisition was formed? Why is there magic, anciet elven magic behin every corner? It feels like reboot.

"It feels like reboot"

Because it is a reboot 💀 Or at least, it's the first step towards one.

Explaining how magic is seen in Thedas, all the different opinions and fears and hopes people have about it, would have been impossible in a single game clearly aimed at luring new players in. They put all the major pieces of explanation in the codex (one part of it is filled and complete since from the start of the game, because it's basically a catalogue detailing everything about Thedas), and let you play as a mage to your heart's content, with no strings, no responsibilities attached.

They tried to preserve some logic in Minrathous - there's mention of how Tevinter's families try to breed the perfect mages to rise in power and influence, so that's good. But you also see a "Noble" mingling with a "Civilian" among the fishermen, and telling her she shouldn't waste time and money on making things better for the poor people. What the hell is she doing there, then? Why isn't she in Minrathous proper, drinking wine and looking down on the poor districts?

Just around every corner, a few feet away from the closest tavern, Venatori are constantly putting up blood magic barriers. The same in the Necropolis, with the Venatori making camp just one door behind the main hub where the Mourn Watch is stationed. Everyone performs rituals, the Circles are barely mentioned, a Forbidden One is hiding behind a door in the Necropolis' main hall and no one ever noticed it before, not even Emmrich.

Statues of Fen'Harel and the Evanuris, elven relics and elven contraptions are hidden everywhere - everywhere. To show how vast and influential the elven empire was? That was probably the devs' intent. Does it always make sense? No. Is it for gameplay purposes, to fill the map with puzzles and stuff to find like in the 2000s? Obviously.

In Inquisition, there was an entire area of the Hinterlands ravaged by the Templars and rebel mages. The refugees were scared of walking the roads to find food because there was wild magic flying around. Rabid templars crazy on lyrium roamed the woods, and the Chantry was powerless.

Elven ruins were scattered around with sense, with a purpose, barely visible among the vegetation, forgotten and avoided, or almost forced to fuse with Chantry's buildings (just look at the Emerald Graves). There was a logic behind the NPCs' and props' locations in the world.

Here, there is simply no logic or consequence to anything ever. The Black Divine is never addressed, as far as I remember. Dalish clans have lost any distinction - the only elven faction you meet is that of the Veil Jumpers, which is a weird cocktail of elves who all know how bad the Evanuris are and random humans and Qunari. Yes, there are humans being allowed to guard ancient elven artifacts in a Dragon Age game. No, they are not called shem. Yes, they all get along swimmingly.

The Crows are not slavers and dangerous figures anymore - they're actually the heroes of Treviso! They treat their fledgling Crows with care and respect, no torture involved. Where did you hear such a preposterous idea? Zevran? Who's Zevran?

Taash says the Qun isn't a prison. How is that possible? They sent assassins after Bull when he defected. They hunt Vashoth and Tal-Vashoth if they dare leave, and if a sten loses his sword, he cannot return home, because his brethren would kill him, as "to a Qunari warrior, the sword is the soul."

So yeah, this was definitely supposed to be a reboot for Dragon Age, just like Andromeda was supposed to be one for Mass Effect. That's why everything falls flat.