#esther hawke: ringing joyful and triumphant

[vhenadahls]

Lots of bad news of varying kinds today, so fun/happy OC thoughts:

Mihrisel plays the violin, and Merrill teaches her Dalish songs, which are her favorite to play.

Esther loves Fereldan soup, and no one in Kirkwall can make it quite right. It’s the only thing she cooks for herself, basically.

Nainsí doesn’t like dogs, but she loves cats. She plays around a lot with Ser Pounce-a-lot, both when he’s Anders’s cat and when he’s given to a kitchen girl in the Vigil.

Merrill and Mihrisel join another Dalish clan in...9:43 Dragon or something. Haven’t quite worked that out yet. Possibly Clan Briathos, one of my OC Dalish clans.

Nainsí’s favorite colors are navy blue, grey, and yellow.

Esther can do handstands, and sometimes will in the middle of a conversation if she’s bored or understimulated. Merrill, Varric, and Isabela are perfectly fine and used to this. It drives Carver and Aveline up the wall and they both rail on her about it.

Nataliya loves puzzle games, including June’s Knot, a Dalish wooden puzzle with no solution. She takes them with her on stakeouts and the like to keep her hands busy while her eyes are occupied.

Mihrisel can’t decide if she wants Andruil or Mythal vallaslin, if the clan she joins will let her get them.

Rory often forgets that not everyone loves math as much as she does, and she’ll sometimes yammer on about something math-related for ten minutes and come back to Ashley’s eyes glazed over.

Arynn always needs snacks but forgets to bring them with her, so Vetra always makes sure the Nomad is stocked with plenty of protein bars, but Arynn is the worst for accidentally grabbing the dextro ones and suddenly having someone knock her snack out of her hand.

Zufit loves stuffed animals, and she has a stuffed qorach (extinct Rannoch animal) that she takes to Illium with her.

[vhenadahls]

OC meme, Esther!

MY GIRL! Thanks for asking!

Full Name: Esther Aren Hawke

Gender and Sexuality: Genderqueer (uses she/her pronouns, doesn’t mind being called “girl” but don’t call her “woman”), *wiggly hand gesture* gay

Pronouns: oops, answered that already - she/her!

Ethnicity/Species: Human, Free Marcher and Nevarran by birth, Fereldan by upbringing

Birthplace and Birthdate: 7 Cloudreach, 9:08 Dragon; Amaranthine, Ferelden

Guilty Pleasures: Esther has never felt guilty about anything in her life. 

Phobias: What happened to Bethany or Leandra happening to Carver or Merrill.

What They Would Be Famous For: She’s the Champion of Kirkwall, a mage, who overthrew Knight-Commander Meredith and didn’t get herself killed :P

What They Would Get Arrested For: Public drunkenness, wanton destruction of property, vandalism, etc. Being an apostate mage.

OC You Ship Them With: Ooh, she’d get along well with Ishren Lavellan, lol. They’re both very Isabela-like in their liking of sex and unashamedly asking for it.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Bridget Hawke! Who...happens to be her cousin :P Who literally came to Kirkwall because she found out the Champion was 1) her cousin and 2) a dirty mage and starts stirring up even more shit.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Ooh. She likes Varric’s crime serials, they’re action-packed enough to keep her attention. She does not like slice-of-life stuff or romance-without-sex, far too boring to spend her time on.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Where a dude comes into the picture because he’s the Chosen One and gets trained by a woman who’s been doing this her whole life but he’s The Chosen One!

Talents and/or Powers: Her magic tends toward primal and force magic, with a little spirit healing on the side. Also a pretty talented manipulator, whoops.

Why Someone Might Love Them: She’s incredibly social/gregarious, and she’s just fun and exciting to be around. There’s never a dull moment with Esther.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: She is the worst at accepting that she might be wrong or have hurt someone. If you disagree with her, you’re wrong. She’ll often refuse to hear people out and kind of just...walk away.

How They Change: She gets a little better at the “you are wrong sometimes” thing once she’s been with Merrill for a while, because Merrill’s like “I love you, but you are not treating me or other people well when you do this,” and Merrill’s one of the only people she listens to. She also gets more guarded, because her people keep dying and leaving and even though she’s still gregarious, still puts herself out there, people who’ve been there for forever like Merrill, Varric, Carver, and Isabela especially can see that she’s haunted.

Why You Love Them: Oh man. She was like the first OC that I really got into the head of. A lot of Nataliya’s story I kind of planned around her instead of seeing how I/she interacted with the game and the story I wanted to tell. Esther was very much her own person from the very beginning. She was my first Hawke, and DA2 is my favorite game, and I just. I love her!

[vhenadahls]

Esther/Merrill - 8!

Oh man, so based on the first document associated with this, you sent me this prompt in 2017. So uh. Apologies for the delay :P

truth so loud you can’t ignore

Merrill and Esther are feeling out what being in a relationship means. This ends up being a much different conversation than Merrill was expecting.

Esther Hawke/Merrill, G, ~1100 words

It’s two weeks after their first kiss - the one Merrill initiated - when Merrill realizes that Esther doesn’t know how to do this. They’re in Merrill’s tiny house, just the two of them, curled up on the bed and talking. The air’s cold, a frosty Firstfall day, but there’s a fire in the hearth and they’re curled up under the bright patchwork quilt that’s one of the few things Merrill still has from her birth clan. 

But Esther, bright and loud and ever-moving, is holding herself very stiffly, propped against the wall. Every time Merrill asks if she’s okay, she smiles and says yes, of course, this is wonderful, but it niggles at Merrill’s thoughts until she can’t take it anymore. 

“You’ve been with lots of people,” she says, not a question, “like Isabela.” Her hands twist together of their own accord, a habit she sometimes wishes she could stop. She keeps her eyes pointed at Esther’s chin, enough to see her reaction but not so much that she has to look her in the eye. Still, whatever words she was going to say next fly out of her head.

Esther’s eyes narrow, in what Merrill thinks is confusion. Or maybe uncertainty. “I’ve, uh, slept with lots of people.” Her voice is thin, brittle, unusual, like she’s afraid of what she’s saying. “But I’ve never done…this before.” Her hands don’t twist together like Merrill’s do, but instead pluck at the patchwork blanket, running along the seams. They’re calloused in a familiar pattern, from holding a staff, but without the myriad of scars that litter Merrill’s own. 

She wants to reach out and hold them. Maybe they’d both be less frightened. But she doesn’t, not yet. “Never done what, exactly?” There’s an idea, worming its way into her head, but she doesn’t want to push. Whatever it is, she’s probably wrong. 

A blush creeps across Esther’s cheeks - unusual indeed. “I, uh.” The quilt flashes between her fingers, faded pink and yellow and green. “I don’t just want to sleep with you. I mean -” she chuckles, sounds a little more like herself for a moment - “I do want to. But not just to sleep with you. And I’ve never really…felt like this, before?” She doesn’t look at Merrill, looks anywhere else - at the broken mirror shard on the table, the small shelf of books, the fire. “I don’t know how to want this. How to do this.”

The words float in the icy air. Merrill’s heart flips over, confusion and compassion and whatever her feelings are for Esther all tangled up. “Never?” Even when she had thought it might be something like inexperience - something Esther is loath to ever admit to - she’d never expected never. 

The next laugh that pops out of Esther is hollow, bitter, unlike her. “You’ve found a thing I’ve never done. Good for you! Now just like everyone else, you can tell me I’m broken.” Another laugh. “Magic. This. It’s always something.” Her voice is loud and searing, mean and cutting, and Merrill’s instinctive reaction is to run away. There’s that inability to deal with inexperience.

She’s not going to run away. Esther’s hands are still picking at the seams of the blanket, so instead of going to hold one, she lays hers down next to them. Small, tawny-brown next to Esther’s larger, olive-gold ones. “You’re not broken,” she says. She can’t find anything else to say, no matter how much she wants to.

There’s no reply, but Esther’s hands still on the blanket after a few minutes. She doesn’t apologize for yelling at Merrill, doesn’t reach out to hold Merrill’s hand, but eventually she looks up. If Esther were the type of person to cry, Merrill would expect her to be crying right now, but she’s not. “Have you?”

It takes Merrill some time to parse out what the question’s asking, but then she nods. “A few times. Once at Arlathvhen, when I was fourteen - there was a girl from another clan. She had the most beautiful hair.” Her voice is rueful, and she reaches up to tug on her short braids. 

“Your hair’s beautiful,” Esther interrupts. Her direct, intense stare is hard enough when it’s not directed at Merrill, but with the full force of it, Merrill feels like she might be swept away. 

“Oh!” Now it’s Merrill’s turn to blush, and she tugs at the braids again. They’re starting to look a little raggedy, and she’ll have to redo them soon. They definitely don’t feel beautiful, especially not in the sense of how she remembers that girl from the last Arlathvhen. “Well, I don’t really know, they’re falling apart now anyways, and I’ll have to take so much time to put them back in - wait, I’m babbling again, I’m sorry. Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” Her hands are twisted in her lap again. She pulls them apart. 

“You’re welcome.” Esther’s voice is a little lighter, a little less fraught. 

Plowing ahead, Merrill continues. “She was from another clan, obviously, or I’d have met her before - not that Arlathvhen is the only time we meet other clans, obviously, that would be quite silly, it’s just the largest - sorry, where was I again?”

This laugh isn’t as bright or booming as normal, but it’s not hollow, bitter, broken. And it’s kind, laughing with, not laughing at. “The girl?”

“Oh, right!” Merrill giggles too. “She was just so beautiful. And older than me, too. I followed her around like a lost puppy, that’s what I did.”

“Dalish have lost puppies?” Her tone is teasing. Now she does slip her hand into Merrill’s, and Merrill feels her heart soar.

“Not really! Especially not mabari - I’d never seen one until yours. That’s a saying I picked up from Varric, I think.” She leans over to rest her head on Esther’s shoulder. “Anyways. I tried to talk to that girl - Mihris was her name - but I was just so awkward, I don’t think she ever really understood me.”

With another laugh, almost normal, Esther presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Do I understand you?” she asks, playful.

Merrill nods, vigorously. “More than most.” She squeezes Esther’s hand, wriggling closer under the blanket. “It doesn’t matter to me what you haven’t done. We’re figuring out lots of things already. We can figure out more.”

They lapse into silence, the only sounds the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the wind rattling the door. It’s quiet, and just warm enough, and Merrill finds herself drifting off to sleep in Esther’s arms. But there’s a rustle in her hair, like Esther’s whispering something, and she strains her ears to hear.

“Thank you,” Esther says, and Merrill’s wide awake again.

“Of course,” she says, shifting to her left so she can face Esther more head-on. “Absolutely.”

[vhenadahls]

Share excerpt (or two, or three!) of writing you're really proud of?

Oh, wow, thank you for this question and giving me a chance to read back through some of my old fic - I knew that I had, at some point, written Clara/TARDIS fic, but reading it again was an A+ experience.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, all the excerpts I found that I want to share are Dragon Age :P

found the fire in the rain, Nainsí and Briala friendship.

Briala still isn’t used to how up-front these Fereldans are. They don’t couch their true meaning in layers of intrigue and a few dollops of lies, and yet she finds them more difficult to interpret than she expected. But the question is simple enough, and she inclines her head towards the elven Fereldan chancellor, choosing to be honest herself despite her better judgement. “Briala. The empress’s handmaid.”

Well, honest to a point. She sheathes her daggers and stands up straight, holding out her hands away from her body in a gesture of peace. The Fereldan chancellor eyes her suspiciously for long moments before straightening as well, but does not let go of her own daggers. They don’t catch the light as Briala’s own do - made of steel, she thinks, or possibly veridium - but they are obviously well cared for, and held comfortably in hands that know how to use them. Not a gift from the queen, Briala decides, but a different kind of important.

“Nainsí,” the chancellor says, and Briala did not need the introduction but nods anyways. “And do all handmaids of the Empress carry daggers of silverite?”

“Good eye,” Briala says, and does not elaborate. “How are you enjoying Val Royeaux?”

Nainsí’s grip on her daggers does not slacken, Briala notes, even as her face draws in surprise and confusion. A Grey Warden’s mastery of her weapons, but oh so Fereldan even so. She takes a breath, weighing her options: a diplomat at heart, too.

NAINSÍ. MY GIRL. I really love how I wrote Briala here, and Nainsí comes across so well even though she’s not the point of this excerpt, and holy crap I’m proud of the metaphor of the daggers. And Briala’s caginess especially, honest and not, and Nainsí being 100% honest even when she’s not trying to be.

the map that leads me home to you, Merrill/Esther, with a side of Esther and Varric friendship.

A hand brushes her elbow, and she jumps before realizing who it is. “Varric! I know you probably won’t have, but have you seen the…” She looks up at him, surprised that he’s also quiet, but he just shakes his head and points at the doorway. Following his gaze, she finds there’s someone standing there, silhouetted against the setting sun - a human woman, in raggedy traveling clothes with a staff strapped to her back, black hair tied away from her face in a messy ponytail.

Esther.

“Oh,” Merrill manages to gasp out, and then she’s running, trying not to trip on anything as everyone jumps out of her way. She slams into Esther with such force that the taller woman staggers backwards, her arms wrapping around Merrill to hold them both upright and as a promise.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, and her voice is so sweet in Merrill’s ears that tears well in her eyes. It’s going to take too long to get her voice under control, so instead of trying to talk she just wraps her arms tightly around her girlfriend and squeezes. They stand that way, tied up in each other, for so long that Merrill isn’t sure it’s been minutes or hours.

It is, of course, Varric’s voice that breaks the moment. “Really, Shorebird, no hug for me?” He sidles up next to them, completing their pretty picture - dwarf, elf, and absurdly tall human - and Esther’s musical laugh rings out as she disentangles one arm from Merrill and clasps hands with Varric.

“Good to see you too, Varric,” she says, and he nods in agreement, turning his face away so quickly that Merrill thinks he must be trying to hide his own tears.

This one makes me feel like I’m going to cry every time, because oh my god they’re back together, and I just. Love it.

Two more under the cut, because I couldn’t resist!

in the stillness of remembering, Fiona character study

A few years later, as Fiona studies for her enchanter exams and begins to teach the apprentices, a pair of Grey Wardens appear in the Great Hall. Everyone - from the senior enchanters and the templars down to the newest apprentice - crowds into the balconies to watch the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter’s meeting with these figures of legend. When their purpose comes out, and everyone hears that they are looking to recruit mages into their ranks, such a buzz starts that the templars herd everyone back to their lessons and research.

Fiona bides her time, waiting until the perfect moment - and then one of her apprentices returns from her Harrowing with a sunburst tattoo blending into her dark skin. Unable to wait any longer, Fiona creeps through the darkened hallways to the guest quarters and strides into the Wardens’ room, holding herself as tall as her tiny frame will allow. They seem confused at first, but she begs to be allowed to join them with rage in her heart, fire in her bones, and tears in her eyes.

They say yes.

I’m really proud of this fic as a whole. Most of my fic is heavy on dialogue, and there’s actually zero dialogue in this fic! And there’s some intense repeating imagery, and other sorts of threads, and it’s an important one to me.

and we’re tried and true, Esther and Varric friendship.

With another screech, the man tries to aim a punch at Varric, but his own inebriation and Varric’s lack of height mean he misses by a mile. Varric ducks even so, sliding out from the bench.

Esther does, too. “Hey!” she shouts. The angry man turns toward her and raises his fist again, but she sidesteps it and drives a mana-enhanced punch into his gut. He slumps over, heaving, and she spins to face his friends trying to disentangle themselves from the bench.

“So, my good men, you’ll find that I can more than hold my own in a fight. And if you don’t want to end up like your friend over here,” she points her foot backward at the man still gasping for breath, “you’re going to let me just walk on out of here with my winnings and we’ll forget all about this. How’s that sound?”

One of the man’s friends looks like he’s considering the offer, but the other winds up for another punch. Esther lets him get it in - he’s so drunk it feels more like a mild shove - and follows with another punch of her own, softer than the last but in the shoulder.

A number of Fereldans from the next table over stand up as the reluctant one advances on her, and she tips an imaginary hat to them in thanks before he grabs at her arm. He’s stronger than his friends, and it’s more of a fight for a few moments. One of the incoming Fereldans throws a wild punch that makes him loosen his grip and she wriggles away from him, heading for the door with Varric on her heels.

There’s a lot of Esther’s personality here, which is why I’m really proud of it. Mana-enhanced punches? Egging people on when they’re literally about to punch her? Tipping imaginary hats? CHECK.

THANK YOU AGAIN, this was so very fun to do, going back through my old fic with an excited eye rather than a critical one.

[vhenadahls]

Trying to think of what my OCs actually wear when they’re not trapped in boobplate armor and The One Dalish Outfit, and trying not to just put them all in flowy pirate tops and tight pants because of that Isabela art that just popped out of my queue

(I think Nainsí would wear lots of yellow sundresses in a modern AU, with leggings underneath for freedom of movement reasons. But in canon? Who knows.)

(Esther wears that one DA2 armor thing I don’t hate, the Free Magus Robes like in her art, because...tunic and pants is the shit. But in a modern AU? Lots of leather. She’s that guy.)

[vhenadahls]

Number 8, for Nainsi, Esther, and Rory!

8. Is your oc more likely to follow instructions exactly, throw them out and figure it out on their own, or make it all up? What are the results like?

Nainsí Tabris:

She starts out reading the instructions, but gets bored halfway through and starts making her own judgments about how things should be going. She gets kind of anxious in the middle, because she realizes she’s gotten a little lost but she’s not really able to refer back to the directions anymore because she’s gone down a different path, but just keeps going because she can’t really stop with half a dresser (we’re building IKEA furniture, apparently).

In the end, she ends up with a dresser, but it’s not quite right - it’s a little crooked, or the bookshelf has half as many shelves as it’s supposed to, and so on. But she’s proud of what she’s gotten out of it, and it’s still functional, and that’s the important part.

Esther Hawke:

Esther has never looked at directions in her life. She’s allergic to them :P She’ll act like she knows exactly what she’s doing, swear a lot, bang around the room in a huff, and suddenly end up with a working bookcase. It’s gotten to the point where she doesn’t even look for instructions when she opens a box anymore, because she just isn’t going to look.

She has a tendency to make things come out pretty well despite this nonsense, though - much to everyone, especially Aveline’s, chagrin. Sometimes she breaks things or gets so frustrated she stops halfway through, but most of the time it turns out at least close enough to right.

Rory Shepard:

Rory loves instructions. She won’t start a project unless she has a clear set of instructions of what she’s doing, even if it’s just her own outline of something. Lack of instructions is something that makes her horribly, horribly anxious. For something like IKEA furniture, she’s also sometimes stymied because she wants words and these are all pictures, but at least they’re directions.

Stuff turns out pretty damn well, most of the time, and she’s proud of that. But it means that she panics when there’s even the slightest hiccup, because that means the instructions are wrong and that’s not okay and how is she supposed to handle this.

Thank you! For asking about Rory especially :D

[vhenadahls]

Nainsí checks the Chanter’s Board at least once a week on her way home from the shop where she works. She might not be Andrastian, and it might be an almost sure shot that they’re going to pay her less than what was offered when they see her ears, but she’s not going to let people who need help pass her by.

Esther periodically forgets the Chanter’s Board exists, until she remembers that Sebastian literally shot an arrow into it and she goes to see if there’s anything interesting. She’ll sometimes grab a note off the board, but more likely than not she’ll forget it exists ten minutes later.

Nataliya tends to put stuff on the Chanter’s Board, as a ruse for luring people into traps.

[vhenadahls]

and we’re tried and true

Esther and her family aren’t handling the sardines-in-a-can experience of Gamlen’s house well. She runs into Varric at the Hanged Man, and they get themselves into a bit of trouble. Nothing they can’t handle.

Hawke and Varric friendship, 1300 words. Rated T for two fuck words and a bar fight.

I’m still on hiatus, but I wrote a thing!

After a knock-down, drag-out, family-wide fight that leaves Gamlen sulking and Mother in tears, Carver storms out the door, greatsword on his back and every Kirkwall stormcloud in his face. Esther waits precisely five minutes, trying to pretend she knows how to handle this sort of thing, before following his example. 

She leaves her staff propped in the corner, a subtle, modified repulsion glyph woven around it to prevent anyone noticing or trying to take it. Including Gamlen. The staff’s not a necessary thing, she’s just far more comfortable with it on her back than without. But Athenril’s protection of her prize mage isn't there anymore, not when she's out finding her own work and fucking around Lowtown herself. She's always been able to channel more than enough mana for most things without the staff, though, both of them are - were. A fact that made Esther proud and Bethany shy away from her magic even more. 

Bethany. Bethany would've known how to handle tonight's blowup without shrinking out the door, would know how to talk to Mother in a voice that wasn't shouting. She may not have wanted to understand her magic, but she understood people, more than she thought she did, and Esther wishes she had half that knowledge to bring into Gamlen’s tumble-down Lowtown house. Maybe they wouldn’t feel so much like they’re crashing someone’s party.

She swipes at the tears threatening in her eyes, and looks up to find her feet have walked her to the Hanged Man. The doors are flung open and blurry conversation spills out into the street, along with a circle of reflected candlelight. It smells like cheap ale, too many people, and stale piss, and it's just what she needs. 

A seat’s open at the end of one of the long benches, and she drops into it with a wave at Norah. A mug of ale appears in front of her a moment later, and so does a familiar dwarf. 

“Drinking alone, Shorebird?” Varric asks, tossing a copper to Norah when Esther doesn't. 

“Not anymore, apparently.” She gestures him to the space on the bench across from her. He climbs up, and the way his legs dangle puts a smile on her face she didn't think would appear for a lot longer. All the furniture in his room is dwarf-sized, so she’s used to choking on her knees while she drinks with him. It's a nice change. 

“Damned human-sized furniture,” he mutters under his breath, and her smile turns into a laugh. He grins in such a way that she knows the comment was for her benefit. Another mug of ale appears on the table, and he drains half of it in one gulp. “What's ailing you?”

She sniggers. “Ale-ing. Nice.” Stalling, she takes another sip from her mug and glances around the room. It's all the usual suspects tonight, various Lowtown louts and Fereldan refugees and the occasional guardsman just off their shift. It's loud, and crowded, and the perfect place to forget all her troubles. If he'd let her. 

Varric waits. She'll give him that - he's remarkably patient, when he wants to be. He nurses his ale more sedately, swinging his feet in the too-big chair, and waits for her to come clean. 

“Fuck you, Varric,” she finally says, and drains the last the mug in one swig, banging it down on the rickety table when she's done. “Just family shit. It's not important.”

It’s not often that Varric doesn’t have a ready answer. He just nods slowly, and takes another sip. “Did I ever tell you about the qunari mage Bartrand hoodwinked onto our last expedition?” he asks, his eyes wide and as innocent as he can make them.

Laughter rises from the patrons next to them, wedged in on the bench. “You’re a terrible liar, Varric,” one of them says, raising their mug to him.

“I resent that!” he cries. “I’ll have you know that I am an exquisite liar, but this is definitely one hundred percent true.” He launches into another one of his tales, one that is obviously false (he’s never met a qunari mage, as far as she knows, let alone been on an expedition with one). But his wide-eyed pretense has her and the rest of his audience holding their sides from laughter soon enough.

Norah refills their mugs, and after the story someone produces a Wicked Grace deck. She's got nothing to play with, but Varric spots her, and she cleans their new friends out with an easy smile. Her shoulders start to relax, tension easing. 

“Fucking dog lord!” comes a sudden screech, when the Angel of Death card comes up and Esther lays her hand flat on the table - four knights: ages, dawn, mercy, and sacrifice. Another win. 

The screecher jumps up from the bench, his path a little wobbly from alcohol consumption. “You're cheating!”

“Now, now,” Varric says, helping gather Esther's winnings so none of the audience takes them, “that's no way to be a gracious loser.”

With another screech, the man tries to aim a punch at Varric, but his own inebriation and Varric’s lack of height mean he misses by a mile. Varric ducks even so, sliding out from the bench.

Esther does, too. “Hey!” she shouts. The angry man turns toward her and raises his fist again, but she sidesteps it and drives a mana-enhanced punch into his gut. He slumps over, heaving, and she spins to face his friends trying to disentangle themselves from the bench.

“So, my good men, you’ll find that I can more than hold my own in a fight. And if you don’t want to end up like your friend over here,” she points her foot backward at the man still gasping for breath, “you’re going to let me just walk on out of here with my winnings and we’ll forget all about this. How’s that sound?”

One of the man’s friends looks like he’s considering the offer, but the other winds up for another punch. Esther lets him get it in - he’s so drunk it feels more like a mild shove - and follows with another punch of her own, softer than the last but in the shoulder.

A number of Fereldans from the next table over stand up as the reluctant one advances on her, and she tips an imaginary hat to them in thanks before he grabs at her arm. He’s stronger than his friends, and it’s more of a fight for a few moments. One of the incoming Fereldans throws a wild punch that makes him loosen his grip and she wriggles away from him, heading for the door with Varric on her heels.

She’s laughing before they even make it onto the street. The denizens of late-night Lowtown barely glance up at the intrusion. They walk towards Gamlen’s house, still chuckling. “Cheating at cards so much you start a bar fight, Shorebird. That’s one way to have an interesting evening.”

Pretending to be affronted, Esther flattens a hand on her chest in a horrendous impersonation of Leandra. “Me? Cheating? I am appalled that you could ever think such a thing of me. I would never cheat!” She flutters her other hand through the air like she’s supposed to be holding an ornate fan - this imitation, spot on.

The sound Varric makes is something like a cross between a nug and a pig. “And I’m next in line for the Sunburst Throne. Honestly I’m glad for it, you’re far more interesting than the usual clientele.”

They’re in front of Gamlen’s place now, and Esther leans against the sagging stairway. “That’s not saying much, though.”

Varric tilts his head and a hand toward her, agreeing. “That’s true. Anyway, I’d best get back before the fight’s too rowdy and they kick everyone out, that’s always some fun people-watching. See you later, Shorebird.” He turns and heads back the way they came.

Still leaning on the stairs, Esther taps one foot against the carved-stone ground. It’s a familiar sound, and it helps center her thoughts. “Varric?” she calls. He turns back, a question in the angle of his head.

She takes a deep breath. “Just...thanks. For being there tonight. It helped.”

No response, for a moment, and then he nods. “Anytime, Hawke.”

[vhenadahls]

4, 12, 24!

4. Coldest VS Most emotional:

Coldest is 100% Nataliya Lavellan. She’s just not a very emotional person, and she doesn’t understand or care about most Feelings of any sort. Most emotional is either Arynn Ryder or Nainsí Tabris, because I gave them both my own “emotions-running-amok” fatal flaw.

12. Brainiest vs. brawniest:

Brainiest is Arynn, who’s an absolute nerd and babbles on about anthropological theories to no end. Brawniest would be…of my main OCs, probably Esther Hawke, even though she’s a mage, because she grew up on a farm taking care of her family and continued doing so in Kirkwall. But Iska Cadash and Bridget Hawke are both two-handed warriors, so there’s a ridiculous amount of brawn there.

24. Most flirtatious vs. most modest:

Oh man, Esther would flirt with a lamppost. And “modest” isn’t really the word I’d use to describe it, but Nainsí is aro and not really a big flirt, and Nat doesn’t really flirt, or…most of my OCs, really.

Thanks!

[vhenadahls]

i find the map and draw a straight line

Prompted by @momsthetic​ - zinnia (I mourn your absence)

They all pile onto the Wicked Grace after they escape the Gallows, an unusual kind of cadence with Anders and Fenris lying dead and Carver running up the gangway on Esther's heels. The crew is all already awake, gawking at the chaos as the Gallows burn, and there's a long moment where they stare at the newcomers, ragged and bloody from their fight out of the city. A single shout from Isabela sets the sailors all back to rights, and the bustle of a ship readying to sail leaves the rest of them at loose ends on the deck.

Esther wants to be the first to recover, the smell of the sea usually almost as sweet to her as it is to Isabela, but Merrill's got a death grip on her hand that she doesn't seem too keen on loosening, and Esther can’t bring herself to do anything but stare. None of them speak, looking out over the docks as Isabela’s captain’s voice and the responses of her crew echo behind them. Heart sinking, Esther watches the roof of one of the warehouses collapse, a fresh plume of smoke billowing out from where it stood.

Varric’s murmured “shit” isn't meant to be heard by the others, but he's not as quiet as he thinks he is and it defuses the tension, if only a little. Merrill lets up on Esther's hand, and Carver loosens his armor and leans forward onto the railing.

“Shit,” Esther echoes, but it's hollow, and the tension grows taut again when she doesn’t follow it up with a joke. Merrill leans against her, silent, and Carver nods slowly, in sympathy - they put the whole city on her shoulders, and she failed.

They're still quiet as the crew finishes their final checks, and Esther feels her heart lift the smallest bit at the thought of being out on the water, escaping the city with her friends to finally just be Esther again, not the Champion of Kirkwall. But there's a small flurry near the gangway as Isabela sends someone to pull it onboard, and Aveline waves him away while gesturing their ragtag group towards her.

“I'm not leaving,” she says bluntly, once they've within earshot. She gazes out over the city, wincing as the flames spread to another building. “There's no one left, now with Meredith gone - not that Meredith was worth it in the first place. I can't leave while the city is in this state.”

Isabela eyes her critically, face calculating. “All right.” She claps Aveline on the shoulder, respect and insolence all in one. “I'll see you again, big girl.”

Aveline rolls her eyes, but there's a softness in her face, and she nods to Isabela before turning to Esther. “Keep out of trouble, Hawke. Maker knows you'll find it.”

Esther tries to give a cheeky grin, but it doesn't quite work, and instead she inclines her head. “You wouldn't be happy unless you had to come pull me out of something, you know it.” Tears prick at her eyes, but she blinks them away. She will not cry here, not with everyone watching. Grimacing, she fakes a cough, to try and sell that it’s the smoke.

Aveline nods once more, turning without another word and hurrying back down the gangway. She draws her sword and shield as she hits the ground, and the crew pulls the gangway onto the ship, and Aveline turns a corner and is gone into the maze.

They weigh anchor, picking their way out of the harbor and giving the Gallows a wide berth, and Esther doesn't move from her spot on the railing. She stands still, Merrill on one side and Varric on the other, with Carver nearby and Sebastian hovering and Isabela calling orders behind her, until burning Kirkwall fades over the horizon. She doesn’t give in to the tears that threaten to fall, but she doesn’t say anything else even when the city disappears, and her expression when she finally turns away is brittle.

-------

They leave Carver at Ostwick, off to rejoin his Warden unit. Everyone that’s left of their ragtag band of misfits troops off the ship together, Isabela shouting about half a day’s shore leave to the crew and the rest attempting to make merry like this is something they do all the time. A bar is found, one Varric complains could never live up to the legacy of the Hanged Man, and they take up their customary places around an unfamiliar table. A smaller table too, chosen to avoid thoughts of the gaps in their circle, and the conversation does not flow as easily despite the much better ale.

Esther does not beg or plead with Carver to stay, to shirk his vows and his duty and the mantle she gave him to save his life. Or, at least, she wouldn’t look to be begging in the eyes of someone who did not know her - but those standing around her as she says goodbye to her brother know her better than she ever thought possible.

“But who will protect me from the big scary darkspawn?” she jokes, trying to force her characteristic lilting humor back into place. To his credit he doesn’t call her on the fragility of her voice, responding only with a long-lost smirk and a deep, put-upon sigh. But when he grasps her hand and she pulls him in for a bone-crunching hug, his eyes are shiny and wet.

All of them watch as he mounts the relay horse that will take him to the Warden outpost a few hours outside the city. He rides straight out, not turning even for one last wave, his greatsword almost as big as Merrill familiar on his back, and Esther's heart squeezes in her chest as he rounds a bend out of sight.

She doesn't cry, blaming the city’s dust when she blinks too much. They make their way to the ship, no longer trying to mask how dejected they are, and Esther tries not to look at any of them or any of the crew who could try to be helpful. She takes her place back at the railing as the ship glides out to sea, Varric and Sebastian on one side and Merrill on the other, Isabela barking orders in the background, and every flutter of a sail out of the corner of her eye has her turning to look for her missing brother.

-------

Sebastian leaves when they reach Hercinia. They end up in a bar again, but there’s barely a hint of conversation this time, as if the removal of links from their chain has made the rest of the links even weaker. The walk to the Chantry afterwards is quiet.

“There should be a merchant caravan going to Starkhaven soon,” Varric pipes up finally, and Sebastian nods, and they lapse back into silence. They follow him up the steps into the the ornate building, waiting impatiently while he secures a place to stay for the next few nights, and breathing a little easier once they're in the open again.

Varric leads the way to one of the largest shops in the city and waves familiarly to the dwarven shopkeeper, earning himself a scowl in return. He wheedles and nudges, laughing at the shopkeeper’s grumpy demeanor and waving the others off to let him work.

Despite the inauspicious beginnings, it's not long before he's found a place for Sebastian in the caravan that will take him home. They troop back outside into the street to say goodbye, and most of the group makes their way back to the ship as Esther tags along with Sebastian back to the Chantry.

She doesn't cry this time, either. “What is with the incense here?” she complains, swiping at her eyes in an anger she doesn’t really feel, unable to find the words to tell Sebastian she’ll miss him.

Sebastian gives her a hug and a smile, clasping her hand as she steps back. “We will meet again, Hawke,” he says, and she nods, not trusting herself to speak again. He looks away as the bells ring through the building, marking the hour, and she hurries back out without turning around, following the noise of the docks back to the ship.

As always, she stands on the deck to watch the city fade behind them, Varric and Merrill flanking her, and this time Isabela's shouted orders feel like salt on an open wound.

-------

She thinks they're safe when they dock in Wycome, with nothing to draw any of the last few of her friends away from the ship, but there's a letter waiting for Varric when they arrive at his second-favorite bar. He tears it open, confusion filling his face, and Esther's heart sinks as he reaches the end and looks up at her apologetically.

“I have to go,” he says, and her heart threatens to shatter as she stands rigid beside him. He doesn't elaborate, knowing the details won't matter when the effect is the same. Merrill and Isabela hover behind them, quiet, as Esther balls her hands into fists and wills herself not to fall apart.

They stay in Wycome for four days, far longer than Isabela had intended. Esther spends most of the time with Varric, trying to joke and failing and spending more of her time in silence than she ever has before. He lets her be, uncharacteristically unsure of what to say, and they muddle through the last few days as best they can.

The last night, as Merrill and Isabela and Esther prepare to take ship again and Varric prepares to join another caravan heading back west, they somehow find a tavern none of them have ever been to. Esther and Varric go drink for drink, Isabela fleeces far too many people at Wicked Grace, and Merrill watches it all with big, curious eyes.

Everything seems fine for a while, each of them more relaxed than they've been in recent memory, limbs and tongues loose from ale. Esther joins the Wicked Grace game, pretending she's worse at it than she really is and laughing, less brittle than in weeks. “Hey Fenris -” she calls, and realizes what she's said, and she drops her cards so quickly it's like they're on fire.

There's no excuse she can pass her tears off on this time, and she flees the tavern as quickly as she can. She's never been to Wycome before, but the seedier part of one town is much like the seedier part of another, and she tucks herself into an alleyway reminiscent of the one behind her uncle’s house and finally lets herself sob.

Fenris isn't just scattered off to some random part of the Free Marches, he's dead, and so is Anders, and she never saw eye-to-eye with either of them but they were part of her group of misfits and now there's empty spaces in the world. She cries harder, back pressed against the damp stone walls of a Wycome alley that smells of Antivan wine, and pleads with a Maker she’d long since decided didn’t care, her voice little more than a whisper.

Merrill finds her first, despite her terrible head for directions, and calls out behind her for the others as she drops to her knees and wraps her arms around Esther's shaking shoulders. She doesn't speak, just murmuring softly in an attempt at comfort. Varric and Isabela make their way into the alley as well, their faces grim when Esther doesn't look up.

They stay that way for a while, the Chantry bells chiming the late hour going unheeded as Esther finally lets herself cry. Eventually her tears slow and her sobs quiet, and as Merrill helps her to her feet Varric slips his hand in hers, the weight of years in his squeeze.

“This isn't the end, Shorebird,” he says, his voice wavering as he tries to pretend he hasn't been holding back his own tears. “You'll be back here, or back in Kirkwall, or you know, soon enough.”

She nods bleakly, her silence more an answer than any words would be. They all make their way back to the ship, Esther leaning heavily on Merrill’s shorter form as though she’s lost the strength to hold herself up. Varric carries his things to a waiting merchant cart, heckling and giving bad advice even to the last, and then he's swallowed up by the unfamiliar map of the city and Esther has to grip the ship’s railing with all her strength to prevent herself from running after him.

They set sail in the morning, and it’s all she can do to convince herself that Merrill and Isabela aren't ghosts, too.

[vhenadahls]

every weekend we hitchhike to hell

Prompted by @momsthetic - impatiens (impatience)

Merrill never imagined she would meet someone who considered her excessively patient. A normal amount of patient, maybe, after always being the one left behind to study when the others were hunting and learning the Vir Tanadhal, but not excessively so.

But Esther, wonderful, exciting Esther whose defining characteristic is an inability to stop moving, seems to think that any amount of patience is excessive. Even now, when it's Merrill who's asking for it and Isabela who needs it.

“Maker’s balls,” Isabela says through gritted teeth, her eyes darting back and forth between Merrill kneeling next to her and Esther pacing back and forth across the sand. “Can't you hold still for just one second, Hawke?”

Esther slows to a stop, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her thigh, and when she turns back to them her face is pinched with exhaustion. “I'm sorry. I'm just...this is my job. Merrill's not a healer.”

“But I'm not out of mana,” Merrill says, looking pointedly at the empty row of lyrium potions hanging from Esther's belt. “Now help me hold her still.”

Kicking the dead body of a qunari sten out of the way, Esther comes to kneel behind Isabela, still nearly vibrating with frustration and impatience at not being able to do more. She braces Isabela's shoulders against her knees, and Isabela tilts her head back to look upside-down at Esther.

“Been a long time since I've been between your legs, eh, Hawke?” Her voice is shaky, but strong, and after a moment Esther laughs heartily and Merrill starts to giggle. The brief moment of levity gives them all a chance to refocus, and Merrill rests her hands on either side of the deep wound in Isabela's thigh.

Merrill's magic, ancient and bloody and angry, is not well-suited to healing. But it'll work in a pinch, and Isabela's shoulders release some of their tension as Merrill does what she can to ease the pain. By the time they're finished and wrapping her leg in bandages, Fenris has returned from checking that the path back to the city is still clear, and Esther helps Isabela climb onto her back for the slog back to Kirkwall.

The trip is long and slow, everyone quiet as they focus their flagging energy on walking rather than talking, but as they turn towards Darktown Esther can finally feel her mana start to regenerate. Anders ushers them all inside once they reach the clinic, eyes darting warily to make sure they weren't followed, and Esther deposits Isabela onto a nearby bed as they both groan with relief. After checking that Isabela's settled, Esther heads for the door, but Anders waves her back with a roll of his eyes.

“Wait, Hawke, I'm taking a look at all of you this time. You've got to stop letting yourself use this much mana all at once, it's not good for you.” Esther pouts, but she does as he asks and leans against one of the support columns, foot tapping.

Isabela props herself up on one elbow, wincing as she jostles her leg but still shooting Esther a wide, toothy grin. “Patience is a virtue, Hawke, didn't you know?”

There's a moment of stunned silence, everyone staring at each other as they process, and then the whole group bursts into laughter.

“Quiet, you,” Esther shoots back, but there's no venom in her voice, and they all settle down to wait as Anders pulls a stool over to Isabela.

[vhenadahls]

23 and 25 for the dragon age asks for whoever you'd prefer :)

Thanks for asking!

23. How old were each of them at the start of their respective games? Do you think their age affected the choices they made? Looking back, would they have done any major actions differently?

Nainsí was 23 or 24 at the start of her game, I haven’t quite decided. That’s kind of the oldest that seems feasible for a culture with arranged marriages, no matter how long she tried to put it off (she’s aromantic). I do think it affected her choices, especially ones where she could keep as many people alive as possible (including herself, re: the dark ritual), because she’s young and afraid of death/ceasing to exist. I’m not sure if much would’ve changed if she were older, though, because fear of death morphs into respect for life and she’d still try to keep as many people alive as possible.

Esther was 22 when they left Lothering, 23 when the game proper actually starts. Her choices tend to be rash and impulsive, which is a combination of her personality/neurodivergence (ADHD) and her age, but they don’t mellow out very much as she gets older because the world starts to crumble around her and she doesn’t know what to do. I think her major actions would stay pretty much the same regardless of her age, even if the motivation or her internal rationalization for them changed.

Nataliya is about 29 when her game starts, and she’s a lot more pragmatic in her choices than either of the other two for a variety of reasons (age, personality, life experiences). She tends much more strongly towards ‘a means to an end,’ and so most of her major actions wouldn’t change unless she had perfect foresight of what was going to happen later on, which has nothing to do with her age.

25. What is/was their relationship with their family like?

Nainsí is super close to her family because it’s the building block of city elf culture. She’s always been close to both of her parents, and really enjoyed training with Adaia before she passed away because it was time she got to spend with her mom one-on-one. After Adaia’s death Nainsí gets even closer to Cyrion, because they’re both going through a lot of grief and trying to reconcile that with continuing on with their own lives. She’s also always been close to Shianni, because they’re close in age and have grown up essentially as sisters, and to Soris and his parents. Big loving Tabris family :)

Esther was very close to her father before he died, because he understood her way better than Leandra ever did. She’s always had a somewhat antagonistic relationship with her siblings, because she’s an argumentative person (and so is Carver), but Malcolm’s death meant she kind of got thrust into a Provider sort of role before she was ready, which could have made her really resent the twins - but she and Carver got into a bit of a knock-down, drag-out fight that really taught her how much she cared for them. She loves Leandra, she does, but they’ve never understood each other and it only gets worse when they move to Kirkwall. She misses Bethany something fierce, but theirs was less of a true friendship and more of a ‘hanging out together because siblings’ thing. Carver, on the other hand - especially once he’s a Warden and they’re no longer stuck in a two-room shack together, they each really come into their own and while they’re still the personification of sibling rivalry, it’s because that’s just how they’ve come to show each other they care.

Nat hasn’t lived with her family since she was twelve, when her magic manifested and her parents took her to Clan Lavellan but weren’t allowed to stay themselves. She was close to her parents before, and she returns to the Rialto alienage to find them when she leaves the clan, but she isn’t able to find them (I haven’t quite worked most of that out quite yet). Keeper Variel took care of her in the clan, as she was Second anyways, but it was always more mentor-student than family, and most of the clan was still wary of her and not extremely accepting of her city elf background. Once Leliana comes and recruits her and she leaves Rialto, she finds a found family in some of Leliana’s ragtag group of agents, and she’s close to them (which I also have to work out more). Anyways, Nat is much less family-focused than the other two, just because her life hasn’t been family-centered like theirs have.

[vhenadahls]

For the DA ask meme: 16, 19, and 28!

Thanks for asking!

16. Would your protagonists have the same Hogwarts house?

Not at all - I kind of tried to make them all very different from one another so that it would be easier to write their stories different and not feel like I was always writing about the same person.

Nainsí Tabris is a Hufflepuff - loyal, generous, trustworthy, and hardworking. She always tries to do the right thing, and to respect the choices of the people around her even if she doesn’t agree with them. She’s also got an extremely heightened sense of justice, from growing up in a place where she was seen as so much lesser, and she tries to help the underdog whenever she can.

Esther Hawke is a consummate Gryffindor, through and through. She’s reckless, brave, sarcastic, fond of breaking (or simply ignoring) rules, impatient, the whole bit. She’s also very protective of those who can’t protect themselves (or who she sees as not being able to protect themselves, a la Carver), but doesn’t give two figs what the nobility/authority think of her.

Nataliya Lavellan is a Slytherin, of the cunning rather than ambitious sort. She very much wears a mask in most situations and is closed-off and slow to trust, and she plays her cards very close to her chest. Very judgmental, but adaptive and decisive, a lot of things that meant she was a valuable asset to Leliana’s spy network.

19. What is the biggest difference between your protagonists?

Ooh, this is an interesting question! I think the biggest difference is probably how they relate to other people.

Nainsí loves people, loves making new friends and getting to learn about them, because they are people and they have their own interesting stories to tell.

Esther loves stimulation, and other people are a good source of that - whereas Nainsí loves meeting and learning about new people for who they are, Esther loves it because they make her own life more interesting.

Nat sees people as only a little better than a means to an end - she’s not quite at the level of Morrigan, seeing people only as tools to further her own goals, but Nat isn’t looking for friendship or connection in most cases, she’s just looking for someone that will help move her goals along (this changes a bit when she’s been in the company of the same people a lot, because then they become part of her experience and she wants them to stay).

28. What is their favourite location within their own game and what would be their favourite in each other’s?

Nainsí’s favorite place is the alienage, no matter how terrible it is. It’s home, and she knows it like the back of her hand, and her family and her life is there, and she’s not treated as lesser there just because of the shape of her ears (or her lack of vallaslin). All I can think of for DA2 is that she would not like Kirkwall, but she would love the Emerald Graves in DAI - there’s so much history there, history that she doesn’t know because she’s not Dalish, but she can feel it and it’s also just beautiful. (Or the Storm Coast, because she absolutely adores rain.)

Esther’s favorite place is the Wounded Coast - she loves the sea, and she loves to go and imagine that she and her friends can steal a ship and stop having the fate of the city and the world put on their shoulders. In DAO she would probably like Denerim best, because she does love cities and Denerim isn’t trying to tear itself apart like Kirkwall, and she’d absolutely love the Storm Coast best in DAI, because of being close to the sea. (you know how Varric makes comments about Isabela when you’re on the Storm Coast? He also makes them about Esther.)

Nat likes the Emprise du Lion, because she’s a winter mage and just feels most comfortable in cold places. She’d probably like the Frostback Mountains or Denerim best in DAO, because cold and because she’s used to cities, and probably Lowtown in DA2 because it’s a good place for sneaking and getting information.

[vhenadahls]

Last words for everyone B)

Ahh wow, I think I’ll do the main five I talk about most often because if I did everyone I’d be here all night haha (I’m also going to do sort of jokey ‘famous last words’ rather than actual last words because thinking about the end of my OCs’ lives is Too Sad for me most of the time).

Esther’s would absolutely be something along the lines of “hold my beer!” before going off and doing something ill-advised. She has no concept of limits and just…does stuff, especially to show off, and it’s bound to bite her in the ass sometime.

Arynn’s would be “oh, that’s interesting, I’ll go take a look!” for something that she should NOT BE TAKING A LOOK AT (see, diving first into a gravity well (or, as SAM says, a well with variable gravity) with no idea what’s at the bottom). She’s too curious and gets herself into stupid situations because she doesn’t think things through all the way.

Nainsí, if she’d had her last words at the archdemon, would probably have said something like “eh, it’s just a dragon. We’ve fought dragons before!” (spoiler alert, she did say exactly that, it just wasn’t actually her last words). She tries to downplay the severity of big things but never quite does it right and ends up making everyone more nervous because now they’re remembering how close of a fight it was the last time they fought a dragon and this is a FRIGGIN ARCHDEMON.

Nataliya’s are probably something like “give me just a minute” before Fade-cloaking and sneaking in somewhere she shouldn’t be, and then having something stupid happen so she gets caught and can’t talk her way out of it. Which doesn’t usually happen, because usually she’s either with someone else who can do the talking or people are inclined to assume elves are stupid (and that women are weak), but if it were to.

Nadia’s sad last words, that she thinks are her last words (but they aren’t because they find her after she destroys the Reapers), are saying “I love you” to Sam, and “meet me there” to Garrus. Her silly last words would be something like “I’ve totally got this” before trying to beat some tough guy at an arcade game, winning by accident, and gloating.

[vhenadahls]

For Arynn, Esther, and Nataliya: 1, 3, & 4! :)

Thanks for asking!

1. What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?

For all three of them, it was their names - they were each the first time I had played their respective games, and I didn’t know very much about the stories or worlds yet to create their personality or backstory.

3. How did you choose their name? 

For Nataliya, I just kind of wracked my brain for a name that sounded vaguely elfy - I hadn’t played any of the DA games yet, so I didn’t really know much about the universe or names that would ~mean something~, and it was also only the second time I was even trying RPG games of this sort (I’d played Mass Effect in the past but hadn’t gotten really into it for some reason). 

For Esther, it was the first name on a list I’d started making of names I’d like to use for OCs, and I was starting her playthrough late at night while being watched (I really don’t like when people watch me play games), so I just picked. I’m so glad I picked this one though, it just really fits her and it Is Her in my head.

For Arynn, I literally don’t actually remember how I came up with her name, other than it was part of trying to come up with names that started with the same letter for her and her brother (but the in-canon reason she has her name is that her parents thought she was going to be a boy and were going to call her Aaron, and when she was born they decided to just change the spelling).

4. In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts? 

For Nataliya, it’s absolutely Leliana - I fell in love with Leliana really fast, and I knew that no matter what I did with Nat’s story I wanted them to be close friends. Throughout all the rewrites of her canon (there have been two, now, so she’s had three different backstories), her friendship with Leliana has been the one real constant. In the current one, which I’ll probably stick with because it’s been working well for me, they’ve been friends for something like ten years, and it’s an important constant for both of them.

With Esther it’s a lot of things - Carver, and Merrill and Varric and Isabela, and how she’s been taking care of her family for a long time in a whole bunch of ways. I guess it’s always about the people, for her - the place and the why and the how doesn’t really matter, but the people she’s with is most important and what has shaped her the most.

For Arynn, it’s studying at the Prothean archives on Mars - a lot of the rest of her personality and story stemmed from having been a researcher there (not a peacekeeper, like the game says, she was never part of the Alliance military). I’d never really created an academically-focused character before, and it was really interesting to explore that.

[vhenadahls]

I just saw that Parks and Rec gifset with the Eagle One code names bit, and I’m just -

Esther: You will address me as Eagle One. Isabela is ‘Been There, Done That.’ Merrill is 'Currently Doing That.’ Aveline is 'It Happened Once In A Dream.’ Fenris is 'If I Had To Pick A Dude.’ Varric is…Eagle Two.

Varric: Oh thank the Maker.