#ending isn't really happy

[throneofsapphics]

Manon x reader x Asterin (angst) please 🤸‍♀️

think for yourself.

(part two)

Manon x Reader x Asterin 

Summary: “I don’t care how you feel about this.” The white haired witch said through gritted teeth, those gold eyes seeming to burn a brand into you. 

“When have you ever cared?” Your voice was quiet and you went against all common sense, turning your back to walk towards the kitchen area. “Leave.”

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: angst, slight injury, blood 

A/N: angst is my favorite thing to write. I'm so sorry. also not proofread very well

It was late at night, in the small cabin you lived in, a few miles from the nearest village, perfectly secluded. The safest way for you to live. When you made trips into town, they welcomed you with open arms - mostly because of the herbs and goods you would barter or sell, but you did have a few friends there. Nobody there knows exactly where you live, nor did you invite anyone over, and you always took different routes home, shaking any who tried to follow. Even if that meant you would double the amount of time it took you to get back. Paranoia is good. It’s kept you alive. However, any common sense seemed to fall away for two witches. Who’d thankfully captured your heart instead of tearing it out. 

-

I haven’t seen your kind for some time.” A smooth and cold voice purred from behind you. Rarely could anyone sneak up on you, not with the senses from your Fae heritage. You slowly turned to face them. To of them. Witches. One with white-blonde hair and a predatory look in her eyes stalked towards you, the other fell into step a pace behind her, matching each other in pace and stride. Instead of the urge to flee, a small voice told you to stay. So you did, with that immortal stillness. Fleeing would give them a chase, something they undoubtedly would enjoy. 

You didn’t flinch as iron nails snapped out, or as one dug under your chin, tilting your face upwards. You met the burnt-gold eyes with a defiant gaze. “I don’t remember them being quite so pretty,” the other commented, and you could hear the amusement but didn’t dare take your eyes off the witch in front of you. The nails snapped back, and the two walked away without another word. 

-

The cabin had one bedroom, a living and kitchen area, and an outhouse. A few hens cluck around outside, along with a particularly nasty rooster you caught Manon eyeing once in a while. Like it would be her next meal. 

You laid, stretched across the couch with your head in Asterin’s lap, her fingers running through your hair, and Manon sat not too far away, in a worn down but cozy red armchair you’d come to associate as hers. 

A tension filled the room, both of the witches seeming on edge, and you couldn’t figure out why. Finally, you sighed and sat up, ignoring Asterin’s huff of protest and angling yourself so you could easily see both of them. “What is it?” you asked. 

“We’re leaving.” Manon said bluntly, and Asterin winced. 

“When?” You replied, fighting the dread that crept inside you. The left frequently, but something about this felt different. Off. 

“One week.” 

Your heart dropped, eyes starting to burn slightly but Manon wouldn’t react to your tears, she never did. Asterin, on the other hand, would. To anyone else, except maybe the rest of the thirteen, she would seem just as unflinching, the perfect mask of stone obedience. But, the corners of her lips turned down ever so slightly. Guilt, you could sense her guilt. If they were telling you this early … 

You cleared your throat, “how long?” 

“We don’t know.” Asterin said softly. 

“Can I ask what you’ll be doing?” 

“You can always ask,” she teased, but it fell short. She and Manon exchanged a glance, and Asterin continued - to your surprise. “The King has been breeding Wyvern’s. He needs riders for his aerial cavalry.” 

The world froze around you. You felt fate tightening its strings, twisting around your heart. Ironteeth witches as aerial cavalry for the king's army. That same army who … but they didn’t know about that, or they never would’ve told you. 

“Are you going to say anything?” Manon snapped, your silence annoying her. She didn’t like being ignored. 

“Why?” You looked back and forth between the two of them. 

“When we are done, when we’ve served” Manon said the word with disgust, “him, we will keep the wyverns and reclaim the wastes.” 

The wastes. The homeland both of them had been dreaming of for longer than you were alive. But serving him? The King had already conquered Erilea, committed various genocides, banished magic, and had an entire continent under his thumb. What more is he planning to do? Manon, herself, would never make the choice to serve a king, to follow his orders, meaning it had to have come from her grandmother. The High Witch of the Blackbeak clan. You tried to swallow your anger, you really did, but the words came out before your filter could catch up. 

“Is this how you’re going to spend the rest of your life, following your grandmothers every order, whoring yourself out to that King?” Before you could blink, both were on their feet. Manon’s iron nails dug harshly into your skin, and you felt the warm slick of blood starting to drip down your neck as she dragged you to your feet. 

“I should kill you.” Manon snarled, cold fury in her eyes. You’d insulted her, hit right where it would hurt. Good. Asterin laid a hand on her cousin's shoulder, but her eyes were cold too. 

“Do it,” you snarled right back, “your never master would order you to anyway.” 

Asterin barely yanked Manon back in time, scratches that would scar left blood dripping down your neck. “Be careful what you say next,” she warned as Manon shook off her grip. Seconds ago, Manon may have killed you but you could tell she wouldn’t now. 

“I don’t care how you feel about this.” The white haired witch said through gritted teeth, those gold eyes seeming to burn a brand into you. 

“When have you ever cared?” Your voice was quiet and you went against all common sense, turning your back to walk towards the kitchen area. “Leave.” 

Two sets of footsteps left, the door creaked open and slammed shut, and hushed arguments sounded outside your door. Too quiet for you to hear. One set came back in as the heavy oak door creaked, but closed quietly this time. 

“She does care,” Asterin said softly, her arms wrapping around your waist to pull your back to her chest. Despite the anger still bubbling in you, you melted back into her, resting your head against her shoulder. “She’ll be back in a few days,” she murmured, not expecting a reply from you. 

She let you lay in her arms until late that night, content to enjoy each others embrace, as if she knew what would happen next. 

-

Manon stormed towards your cabin, intent on doing something. She wouldn’t apologize, but didn’t want to leave on those terms, with your words in her mind. Whoring yourself out. Your new master. If you were anyone else, you would’ve been dead before the second curse had been uttered. 

Asterin followed closely behind her. They knew something was off as soon as they arrived. It felt stale. The hens and that gods-damned rooster were nowhere to be seen. She slammed through the door and the place was empty. You hadn’t been there in a few days. A quick scan told her everything essential to you was gone.

She whirled on Asterin. “Did you know?” Her second shook her head, her emotions flooding through her eyes. 

A small note on the table. Manon’s stomach dropped seeing it. She didn’t want to, but she had to read it. Instinct told her the note was meant mostly for her, even without a name on it., 

I love you. If you ever loved, cared for, or respected me, you’ll leave me alone. I hope you learn to think for yourself one day. 

Discolored spots and splotched ink littered the page. You cried while writing it. Manon dropped it like it burned her, and stalked out the cabin without a look back. 

Asterin read it one. Twice. Three times, and memorized it before destroying it. She took one last look around, trying to memorize every detail, before letting out a long breath and following Manon. 

-

The battle was over, and Manon still felt empty. A gaping hole left in her soul. Twelve pieces of her were missing. But, footsteps sounded behind her, and she prepared to snarl at whoever might be disturbing her. She was surprised when Abraxos didn’t react beyond curiosity. Manon knew that scent. Intimately. She whirled around to see you. Alive. 

“So you did learn to think for yourself.” 

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Danse Macabre

[Commission]

[heymacy]

IAN GALLAGHER + his journey with bipolar disorder

╰┈➤ “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of." - Carrie Fisher

[nattikay]

the constant inner struggle of a Na'vi speaker/teacher browsing Na'vi OCs

[coffehbeans]

So you're telling me there was a manga that had all my favorite g/t tropes and I didn't know about it???

Even the megalophobia trope I'M-

[annabelle--cane]

a minor tma fandom thing that has amused me for a few years is that, after the show ended, a very obvious way to see the different approaches people had been taking to engaging with it became to hear their recommendations for what media you should try if you'd liked it. suddenly the veil parted and I could be like ooohhh of course we never saw eye to eye, you're listening to it like the way you listen to heart-warming found family actual play ttrpgs and I'm listening to it like eighty hour hamlet.

[lschmidtartblog]

Took a few weeks off from thinking about drawing to visit family and attend my friends' wedding but I'm back and still rewatching Naruto. Team 7 has a day off and is having a team building dinner but is l probably going to eat junk food all night since they're 12 year olds

[chirpsythismorning]

Thinking about the what if El was never interested in Mike romantically, she just assumed she was discourse on the tag today and how it's very possible what could make El fully realize this, is when in s5 she see's Will's love for Mike in real time, for the first time, and she's just like damn! That is not me!

[w1lmuttart]

They are so cool what-

[ministarfruit]

bad ending

[tiredandoptimistic]

I'm thinking thoughts about Agent Curt Mega today. Specifically him at the end of Doing This, when Tatiana ends their kiss. I highly doubt that he's ever come out to anyone other than the men he's slept with, and he's still too afraid to say it out loud. But it's not just that he explains through a euphemism ("you're not my type"), it's that when Tatiana tries to say it more plainly he cuts her off ("so you're into-" "yeah"), because he can't even handle hearing it from her. He is fully expecting her to hate him for being gay, and when she doesn't, and just continues the conversation as normally as she can, even saying she still wants to be his friend, he is blown away by positive emotions because this man has probably never had a real friend before. It's just so.

What I love about the ending of the musical, when Curt kills Owen, is that he realizes that he deserves better. He realizes that his relationship with Owen isn't worth fighting for, and that his friendships with Barb and Tatiana are. And that's really meaningful to me, seeing platonic love held up as a happy ending and romantic love acknowledged as fallible.

[13-nothing]

Rapid fire Inky Mystery Theories:

Bendy Shadows = Dead ink illness people (In other words the Lost Ones duuh)

(Tho last chpt descriptions made me think of Canon Bendy more than Lost Ones cause of the teeth and spines on the back, but ehhh, whatever, my statement stands)

Steven = Baby

(Don't kill me but I totally forgot about him til the last 2 chpts cause I don't reread that arc as much and he was a flash in a pan in the over arcing story. Tho I have to admit I got a little choked up realizing he died when I read it the 1st time)

Grandmama = The Eye Looking Through the Crystal Ball

(It's in my theory boards from last time buuuut there was a LOT on there and I didn't want it to get lost)

Bendy Shadows don't want to be humanoid in shape cause they aren't exactly who they were anymore. They're just the inky puddles now.

(Tho it does make me wonder what would happen if he tried to make them look specifically like who they used to be)

The Thing Demons Portal thru = Ink Realm

(Idk what to comment on here it just is)

Bendy's whole purpose is to fix the machine and BOTH of his fav activities will forever be tainted (hehe) by the fact he was created to specifically be good at them and not because he just chose them as HIS things to do.

(It's extremely sad when u think about it)

As of Chpt 268 Angelo was brought to the be with the shadows

(Wow, it's been like 80 something since that happened)

Sooo yeah that's all I got right now. Figured I'd try to get some of my theories out while before we get too far into the upcoming arc. Anyway, uh, thanks for reading and I say farewell to thee my fellow existences!

[annie-thingrandom]

I don't know what I was going for but I finally finished it, so YAY! *⁠\⁠0⁠/⁠*

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Obtaining Killer)

Hey guys! Through with a bot of stuff for the day and I have a sneaking suspicion that this stress headache will not leave me until I finish some projects for work, so I *may* be m.i.a. for a hot second until they stop.

In the meantime, I want to drop this! (Unedited, unrefined, raw off the slab style)

Andddd @ancha-aus and @papiliovolens ! Hello! (Mutzelputz if u see this, the tags weren't working for some reason, I apologize.)

Hope y'all enjoy!

Ccino had convinced him to leave the castle. After nearly a year had passed since his last true public appearance. Since he'd stolen the apple from his brother. Nine months had passed since he'd sent Dream away. He tried not to think about it.

Nightmare had been finding out a lot about his magic. How it made him jittery, and how he felt like he understood so much more. How it made him deeply paranoid, quick to react.

How it made people listen to him.

He figured it was because he was scary now. The negative magic condensed over every inch of his bone wasn't exactly appealing, and the extra limbs which had sprouted from his spine now acted like his own personal weapons. If someone didn't listen, didn't give him an answer he liked, the limbs moved without him even thinking.

It had taken time to learn to better control them. Even now, they writhed in his wake. His nerves expressed through their lashing and twitching as they hovered just above the ground.

The streets weren't exactly crowded.

Upon word of the King's arrival to this small providence, Nightmare had found that many people fled from his path. His travel party of several soldiers, and himself on horseback. He'd always wanted to ride horses. The traitor twin was someone that every citizen wished to avoid.

Ccino had coaxed him outside with promises of fresh air. Apparently there were promising young members of the city guard that Ccino swore would be wonderful future knights. Young warriors for him to bring up loyally under his name, no fear of betrayal.

It had made sense, at the time, but Nightmare hadn't chosen to recruit any of them.

It wasn't to say he didn't want to. Several of the humans and monsters were very talented, and he did his best to give them praise, but he could tell. None of them wanted to work under him. They didn't like him. Rejection and hatred that had pierced him immediately, he could practically taste it.

Ultimately, they would do better here in their hometown. A place they were passionate about protecting, and with people they cared for. Night would not try to mold promising soldiers into his perfect guard. No matter how smart of an idea it may have been.

And so he'd moved on.

Night had visited several smaller shops, onces which couldn't afford to refuse him, and he bought some fabrics, a trinket, some small thing from each place he stopped by. He payed exactly the price he needed for each thing. He wouldn't bribe his people, either. The best he could do would be to remain neutral.

He did discover, against all odds, that he was enjoying this day out. Ccino was, in fact, usually correct about this sort of thing.

The travel had been enriching. Almost exciting. He'd never gotten out of the castle much at all, this was all new and excitingly mundane.

Good things do not last forever.

It was almost sunset when he noticed it. Torches being set up, a platform prepared. A crowd gathering.

An execution, came the mutter from one of his soldiers. Though he recognized the set-up, Night had never been in attendance to an execution. He was morbidly curious. The crowd held such a contempt. A broiling hunger for blood.

He wished he'd wheeled his horse away when a few people were ushered out of a nearby building.

The prison, maybe?

There weren't many of them. Nightmare dismounted his steed, and much to the dismay of the soldiers at his side, he found himself sinking. Into the growing shadows cast by the dying sun.

He re-emerged beside the stage, where the few people were lined up. Ready for death by hanging.

That trick wasn't one that Nightmare quite understood yet, but he was always drawn to feelings of intense negativity. He knew that, now. Something about these prisoners were bothering him, even at a distance, and he found himself more curious as he stood before them.

His guards, at the back of the crowd, hadn't seemed to figure out where he had gone. He had the time, now, to loom over the small group of prisoners.

The city guards, the trained ones, had likely seen him earlier at their headquarters. They did not speak even a word against him as he stared.

Nightmare stared at these faces.

A dog monster, scrappy and scarred, black fur clashing against a few patches of white. One of her ears was missing.

A pair of humans, both men, one with long, curly red hair and another with short-cropped red hair and the beginnings of a beard. Maybe they were brothers?

A skeleton. His sockets dripped with black magic, and his soul was a piercing crimson, just infront of his chest.

A flame monster, small and stout. Their flames a flickering green and purple. One of their eyes had a patch over it.

Nightmare was not great at determining emotions yet. He was hardly versed in his own feelings, but there had been improvement recently. Understanding new emotions had been coming more naturally to him.

Sometimes it hurt, but he was learning.

Now, past the blossoms of a headache, he felt a bit baffled as he subconsciously picked through the negativity these monsters exuded. Their fear. Their pain. Their loss, and their anger.

Oh.

"Only one of you is guilty."

He'd said it without thinking, practically announcing it with a voice that still felt unnaturally deep. A voice which rattled his ribcage and seemed to force past the barrier of darkness around him.

The group before him seemed startled. Confused.

Well, all but the skeleton, who seemed to only raise his skull slightly. As though just noticing Nightmare was there.

"How could you have possibly been jailed in the first place?" He muttered a bit quieter to himself.

He knew, deep down, that there were many, many rules in place for situations like this. Laws which he could challenge. People he could speak to. He could appoint members of his court to each of these people and try to earn their innocence through the rites of the law.

Then again, he remembered the rage of the crowd. The frustration of the people waiting to see these killings take place.

He didn't know what to do.

Now the prisoners, especially the two humans, were staring at him hopefully. He'd managed to shatter the negativity a bit. He believed them. He knew this was wrong.

"I don't know..."

The mutter came again unprompted.

These people would not have the means to repay him for his help. He couldn't just waive fees, or risk his court turning against him. He couldn't afford enemies being made so close to his inner circle.

He couldn't just leave them, though. Not after he'd seen the injustice of it all.

Stuck in his own thoughts, he was drawn out of it by a snickering laugh.

"Just set them free." A voice followed, "You are our King, aren't you?"

Nightmare then found his eyes drawn to the skeleton.

The others had eased themselves away from him. He stood, now, almost alone. He seemed unbothered by speaking up, his sockets held in an almost lazy posture. Tension going completely un-held.

He grinned up as the King, and seemed to watch contentedly as the thought settled in Nightmare's skull.

He could do that. Simply waive their charges. Pardon them. He could do that, surely. Many royals had done it before him for less certain terms. His mother had plenty of times.

"And you are guilty. You'll still be hanged. You know this, don't you?" Nightmare asked.

That was when the Skeleton's lazy sockets seemed to tighten with a sort of glee. Some hidden joke Nightmare wasn't privy to.

"Hmm." This was a poor choice. This was a bad decision. "Tell me, quickly, how you came to be here. Before I proceed?"

Nightmare didn't know why he was asking. He was... curious. Just like he had always been.

Very few people would ever speak straight to his face. Ccino, that was the only one who'd done it since his change. Since the prophecy. This skeleton had done it. He'd spoken when no one else could muster even a plea.

The silence he seemed to bring to every room. Broken, just briefly.

The skeleton stared at him a moment.

"Name's Killer, your majesty." The tone was mocking. "A while back a buddy of mine got into hot water, and I decided to help them out. Now, plenty of bodies later, I'm the one stuck on death row."

Simple. An admission of guilt.

Nightmare stared at him some more.

Finally, it seemed his frantic guards had noticed him. Found him. They rushed to his side, though not as fast as he would've liked. He could feel the frustration seeping from each armored body around him.

"You don't have an aversion to it," Nightmare voiced, "Killing, I mean."

Killer nodded. Unashamed.

It felt strangely calm, still. Perhaps it was because the crowd was still chattering. They likely hadn't noticed Nightmare at all.

The king turned to the city guard, still stood on the steps. "Free these four people. My judgement decrees them as not-guilty."

And, before any time could pass in the slightest. "Killer, I would like you to accompany me, before you abscond."

He'd noticed it. Killer had undone his cuffs before their conversation. Completely freeing himself from his weak imprisonment.

Killer seemed amused at the concept of sticking around to chat.

"If you would, I would like to recruit your services at my castle. I need a man who is willing to kill. And kill swiftly." Ccino said to establish an image. It was obvious now that his reputation would remain in the gutter, no matter what choices he made. He was not Dream.

Killer's sockets narrowed.

"And what would I get for being your little hunting dog?" Again, it was bold. It was new.

Nightmare was sure his expression hadn't changed since he'd come before the group. That same angry glare that sat permanently along his skull. The magic had an image to project.

His tendrils flicked, slightly.

"Payment, room, Fresh meals, and any other amenities you may like, so long as it does not break our treasury." He replied, "All I ask is that you simply obey me. And Me alone."

Not true. He'd probably ask for him to listen to Ccino as well. Once he knew for certain he'd stay.

Killer seemed to be thinking. He eyed they king, up and down. He looked to each of the guard around the king. The ones who were back in position now, though Nightmare could feel their annoyance. Their confusion.

Then Killer turned.

Then he turned back.

"Mm. Can't be worse than the ol' noose." Killer replied. "Funny way to run a country, my king. Hiring the first murderer you spot?"

Nightmare didn't humor that with a response. He was honestly shocked the skeleton had even agreed.

Though, all of that negativity had been swapped out for a glee. Something deep in Killer had changed during their brief interaction. A hope. Night could barely grasp the edges of its existence with his subconscious. But it was there.

.

He ignored the crowds as they grew confused. He ignored the worry pouring from the criminals as he had them released and informed them of their pardon.

He did not ignore when his guards told someone to keep their distance. He glanced up. Killer was standing beyond the guards, looking bored.

Nightmare, trusting fool he was, didn't even ask a guard to watch him to ensure he stayed put.

"Stand down." He ordered the guard, who begrudgingly allowed the skeleton to smugly slip past.

His tendrils kept the monster at a distance Night preferred all on their own. He seemed to take the hint.

"They're all gonna be dead by morning, you know." Killer voiced easily.

Nightmare turned to him, confused. What did he mean by that? He'd pardoned them?

"Are you deaf? The crowd wanted us dead, especially me." He chuckled, "Leaving them here is definitely going to get them killed. If the crowd doesn't rip them apart the second you leave, then it'll happen at night. There will be no witnesses."

Oh... Night hadn't fathomed that these people could turn on the innocent once declared. It hadn't even crossed his mind. Did they have a home to return to? A family they put at risk?

The noose was a fast death, but being murdered? That would've been so much worse.

He could tell, by the way they evaded looking at Killer, that he was right. Nightmare would be sentencing them to a new sort of death if he did it like this.

But he didn't have time for a trial. Or several. The sun was going down, abd Ccino expected him back. The castle needed him present, or they might revolt.

Someone might hurt Ccino.

Oh, he was such a poor ruler. He did not know his people well enough. How he lamented the lessons Dream had taken about crowds and current issues abd how to be likeable.

Night didn't know how to handle this. He was still learning!

A trembled in his hand. He tucked the limb quickly away from where it had been lightly clutching his tunics thick fabric, now hiding it beneath his cloak.

"Killer is right. It won't be safe here, for any of you." He spoke. Thank the gods it didn't sound as shaken as he felt. "I extend an offer to you all. You may stay here, or you may come take up positions among my staff back at the castle. Unlike Killer, I do not expect any crime from you, but you will be paid and housed."

The offer was met with a roar of frustration from the crowd, Nightmare chose to allow his guards to handle it. He watched, carefully, as the four looked between eachother.

The brothers agreed first. (They introduced themselves as brothers as they knelt in thanks.) Then the Dog. She said she had no family left to watch over, starting a new life would be for the best.

The flame refused, saying they would leave town by morning, and try to stay safe.

And so, Nightmare left the town with four new party members. Each had been provided a horse, each tied to one of the guards. Aside from Killer, whose steed was held personally by Nightmare.

He figured Ccino would chew him out for this, for bringing criminals into the castle when he was sent to collect soldiers, but Nightmare had a good feeling about these ones.

They did not hate him. Or fear him. He was helping them. And it felt good.

[lizzybeeee]

(Same anon) It's also just a lot harder for me because Solas in Inquisition was trying to take down the Veil in a world that was genuinely shitty to elves, mages, and spirits (nvm that until this game I was 100% sure that he was trying to do this more for the ancient elves, like why else imply there are more out there to Abelas? I guess he was just being polite?) Veilguard depicts Thedas as being largely okay with mages and spirits even outside of Tevinter and pointedly doesn't depict racism against elves outside a handful of throwaway lines. So they had him going at this with the same conviction from DAI, of a man trying to reverse the slow genocide of his people, but they've boiled his motivations down to "The Veil is unnatural" Like. How much more awesome if we could have convinced him not to destroy the world because of a culmination of choices in this game and all the others that made Thedas a kinder place idk man. ngnegnwgnf sorry for ranting in your inbox, I still liked Solas enough in this game but it was really bittersweet that they just dumbed down his motivations. I love your idea for influencing the Inky though, it definitely should have been a choice closer to the end and allowed for more variations (ideally all Inkies should have that, not just the Solavellans)

Hello again, Anon! :)

100% agree that the sanitization of the world and lore absolutely hurts Solas's motivations - especially if you look at it solely from what Veilguard gives us and with no background from previous games. All of the previous games, mostly Origins, were really effective in conveying how shit life could be for an elf - and how inbuilt this prejudice against the elves was in all aspects of Thedas.

The chant of light removing the canticle of Shartan, the march on the Dales, the struggles of the Dalish to simply live, the treatment of elves by the ruling class/chantry/ and others in general...it all painted such a bleak outlook for the elves and showed how ingrained this prejudice was in all aspects of Thedas. They had no way out - the structures of power in Thedas would fight them at every turn - which was why Solas being set up as a way for them to fight against all these systems was so compelling! You want the elves to win - but it will be at the cost of everything else if Solas goes ahead with his plan.

(You can definitely also make an argument that perhaps he's using them just to restore the world from before -> Felassan argued with him about this: to see the world as it was as real and worth improving.)

DATV felt divorced from the previous games, and its reluctance to meaningfully go into issues surrounding the lives of elves in Thedas - all the ugliness that brings - really did nothing to add to Solas's motivations for bringing down the Veil. If anything, I got the impression that he does not see anyone in Thedas as being 'real' and that he's simply doing it out of regret and to soothe his own ego/guilt. If this game wanted me to be sympathetic towards Solas it didn't do a good job of making me feel it, especially when you look at the totality of everything that Solas has done.

What I took from Trespasser was that Solas wanted to heal the wound he had left on the world - the Veil - and what he had inadvertently done to the elves. He had given everything he had to free the elven people from oppression and tyranny, only to inadvertently leave them vulnerable to the same oppression from others -> taking away their magic and long lives in the process. He was so blinded by his goal (stopping the evanuris) that he failed to see what his own actions might have wrought in the process.

Trespasser set up the 'Elven Rebellion 2.0' with a Solas who was torn between the world he once knew and the world it had become in spite of his intentions. Does he truly care about the elven people in current Thedas? Or does he just care about the world that came before? In DAI he was such a fascinating character because he could be so polarizing! People loved him! People hated him! Both were correct!

But starting the game with the ritual, sanitizing the world (no real signs of conflicts about spirits, mages, elves, anything really etc...), and simplifying his motivations to "fix fade -> be immortal/magic -> profit"...it just feels so shallow.

Solas: "Long before we met, I failed my oldest friend. She died for that failure. If I leave the Veil in place, I am destroying the world she wanted."

He spells his motivations out pretty clearly at the end and it's just...Mythal? He doesn't seem to care about the elves that are currently living in Thedas - not even Lavellan. Like you said, in Tresspasser I also got the impression that he wanted stop the slow genocide of his people. But apparently it was 'Mythal All Along'!

The lack of supporters/agents really gives him no credence to say that this is anything that the elves want - elven Rook can even call him out on it and he doesn't care. For a character whose own trauma began with bring coerced into a body he didn't want he doesn't give a shit about doing the same to thousands of other elves.

It's far less compelling, to me at least, than what I felt was set up in DAI: the Dread Wolf, god of rebellion, rallying elves after ages of systematic abuse and oppression with the goal of liberating his people and restoring the world that was - the world he inadvertantly denied them with the consequences of his actions. Instead it's just Solas doing his own thing because he's right and he needs to fix what he did wrong for Mythal.

It would have been great to be able to convince him to change his mind/ pursue another path as a result of the culmination of our actions throughout the series. It could be a nice nod to our past decisions and a nice conclusion to see the results of those choice in missives/codex entries. Same as the 'south can repel the blight' counter idea, have their be some kind of 'convince Solas to pursue another option' tally that demonstrates that this world is willing to change and he should be too.

[fromtheseventhhell]

Arya made a face and hugged the wolfling tight. Nymeria licked her ear, and she giggled. (Arya I, AGoT)

--

“Girls don’t shave,” Arya said. “Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa’s legs?” She giggled at him. “It’s so skinny.” (Jon II, AGoT)

--

"Stay away?" Mercy giggled. She was a giggly sort of girl, was Mercy. "No. I've got to get closer." (Mercy, TWoW)

Mercy was a giggly sort of girl...and so was Arya, once upon a time.