#except like. Alexius.

[chimerabytes]

all of my current roster of ocs and sonas sitting together at a roundtable like theyre knights or something

[legoprime]

With everything that's been coming out for DATV I decided to watch all of the DAI trailers and gameplay previews, just to get an idea of what parts of the game they told us about ahead of time to try and manage my expectations...

Man they FULLY lied to us about some of this stuff.

Gameplay preview #1: Here's the Hinterlands, mages and templars are fighting, we're gonna make our way to Redcliffe and look at the castle in the distance which is where we need to go next in our quest. Now we're going to fast travel to a camp elsewhere and fight our way past a dragon to get to some docks and a boat. End of video! We're not saying we're taking that boat to the castle, but we're not NOT saying it.

Gameplay preview #2: We're now in Redcliffe Castle! Our friend Dorian has joined us because his old master Alexius is involved so this quest is important to him. We find and rescue Leliana (who looks like her normal self, not future Leliana) and the narrator is like "We sent Leliana here and she got captured and tortured, this is our fault and will have consequences".

We then proceed through the entirety of In Hushed Whispers except with all mention of time travel edited out. This makes it seem like Dorian and the Inquisitor were just somewhere else together for a while, maybe Alexius tried to kill them and they got away and then snuck back in? Whatever Alexius did is Really Bad though because the whole world is now basically ruined. Our companions sacrifice themselves for us in the end which is Dark As Fuck since these are real events and not a fake future, ohh boy you'd better be careful who you take with you to Redcliffe because they could die! Video ends on Leliana's face as she's about to be killed.

Those are the only gameplay previews I've watched, but even the trailers have this vibe to them. "Here's a careful edit of all of the darkest moments that possibly happen in this game to make it look Really Dark." They actually turn down the contrast on the environment sometimes to make it look grayer than it is.

Actual spoiler-wise though, I think the biggest things I learned were 1) we're going to see Redcliffe again, and 2) red lyrium shards are around. Pretty much everything else was bullshit framed just right to make it look like we were seeing a quest with High Stakes.

I don't know what that means in comparison to DATV marketing, but I'll be interested to find out how much they're actually showing us versus how many things they're omitting once the game comes out.

[shift-shaping]

another ale at noon

solas, blackwall, and varric have another boys' night. day. it's like the middle of the day. boys' brunch.

rating: t

pairing: solavellan (discussed)

warnings: alcohol

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

"So Solas is Chuckles, I get to be Hero, which is quite nice of you, Sera is Buttercup, Bull is..."

"Tiny," Varric said with a grin.

"Very creative," Solas added dryly.

Blackwall frowned. "Who else was there?" 

"I believe I've heard you call Commander Cullen 'Curly,'" Solas offered, and Varric nodded, obviously enjoying the attention. "And Josephine, Ruffles."

"But you just call Cassandra 'Seeker.'” Blackwall recalled. “Why is that?" 

Varric laughed, a bit nervous, and looked towards the door of the tavern as if Cassandra could enter at any moment. "I'm not calling Cassandra anything she doesn't want to be called. I'm already on her shit list."

Solas hummed, and sipped from his drink. "Enaste used that term the other day --'shit list.'"

Blackwall grinned at Varric underneath his untidy beard. "So you're a bad influence, then."

"I'm sure the Dalish have their own curses." Varric waved his hand dismissively. "She's heard it all before."

"I heard she called Cassandra a 'cunt'." All three men looked up at the barmaid, who must have been eavesdropping. "Sorry. You didn't hear it from me."

That got another laugh from Blackwall. "No, that can't be true."

"Sera told us, just the other night! I guess Lady Cassandra told the Inquisitor she needed to put the Inquisition above the needs of her clan, or something."

"That would piss her off," Varric agreed.

"Are you sure Sera wasn't exaggerating?" Blackwall was thoroughly amused by all this, and admittedly Solas couldn't blame him. Enaste was nearly a religious figure to him --hearing her curse in common was probably very entertaining. "Maybe Sera just wanted an excuse to say 'cunt.'"

"Sera needs no excuse to curse," Solas added, and Blackwall laughed again in agreement.

"Well like I said, you didn't hear it from me. Did you lot want another round?"

"Sure," Varric gestured at the table. "What's another ale at noon?"

The barmaid left to get their drinks, and Blackwall shifted in his seat. "So if everyone gets nicknames except the people you're afraid of, does that mean you're scared of Lavellan?"

"No," Varric laughed, then paused. "Well, maybe. Should I be?"

"I don't know," Blackwall shrugged. "She can be harsh, but she's fair."

"It was interesting to see how she handled that magister, Alexius." Varric said. "From her description of what happened at Redcliffe, I thought she'd have his head on a spike." He shook his head, brows furrowed. "She just sent him to work with Leliana, right?"

Blackwall nodded. "Much kinder than the bastard deserved." He sighed and shrugged. "Mercy is a good thing though. Better to follow too merciful a leader than a cruel one."

The barmaid returned with their drinks, and Solas realized he'd actually finished one. He thanked her as she took the empty tankard away. "So if you aren't afraid of her, Varric, why haven't you given her a nickname?" He asked, and Varric thought for a moment before responding.

"It feels weird, I guess. She's the Inquisitor, that's her nickname."

"I think you can do better," Blackwall teased.

Varric rubbed his chin. "I'll think about it. It has to be natural, you know? You can't force these things." He sighed and leaned back, then took a long drink from his tankard. "I could ask her uncle for ideas, I guess. You know, I've never seen an elf with a beard like that." He chuckled. "It's downright dwarven."

Blackwall nodded to Solas. "Did you know he was coming?"

Solas shook his head. "No, and neither did she."

"We're a long way from the Free Marches. Dangerous route, too."

"That's family," Varric said. "I'm not surprised her clan is worried. An elf tied up with all this chantry shit? It never ends well."

"We have to make sure it does," Blackwall replied with an oddly reverent certainty. "She has a duty to the world, but we have a duty to make sure she doesn't die performing it."

Solas looked at Blackwall curiously. "Back in Haven you said you didn't care if she was actually chosen by Andraste. Do you still feel that way?"

"You were there, we all were." He gestured vaguely towards the Frostbacks. "She's insisted time and again she's not chosen by Andraste and doesn't believe in the Maker. But when it came down to it, she was willing to give her life for a bunch of people she doesn't even like." He shook his head as if in awe. "So no, I still don't care if she's chosen by Andraste. She's a woman worth following, and she’s trying to make things right."

"I think she mostly follows you," Varric joked. "I don't know how you can go running into battle headfirst like that. I'm surprised you still have most of your teeth."

"That's why I'm here," Blackwall raised his tankard, then took a long drink before slamming it down. "So you three can keep your pretty faces intact."

"Oh, speaking of pretty faces," Varric said, remembering something and turning to Solas. "Do you know how she got those scars on her face?"

Solas had spent much too long staring at those scars for her not to have told him about them. But she wasn't self-conscious of them, so he assumed it was fine for him to divulge. "A fishing accident, in her youth," Solas replied.

"A fishing accident?" Blackwall asked incredulously. "What a woman." The way Blackwall talked about Enaste was always illuminating. He seemed somewhere in-between worshipping her and being in love with her. Perhaps he had to be, to put himself in so much danger for her so often.

"I wonder if she's found a place nearby to fish," Solas said, frowning. There were streams here and there, enough to provide the keep with fresh water, but none of them that he knew of were deep or productive enough for fishing. "She used to fish from the lake near Haven. It gave her some peace from all the chaos."

"Did you notice, in Crestwood, how she looked at those crab traps on the beach?" Blackwall asked, grinning, and Solas couldn't help but smile back. Enaste had tried to be subtle, but it was impossible not to notice her casually wandering along the waterline and leaning over the traps. Sera teased her for it, and she'd been predictably defensive. It made for a surprisingly light-hearted moment amidst so much doom, and Blackwall had promised to take her to a real seafood market some day. That led to Sera calling her 'fishbutt,' which didn't make any sense but was amusing regardless.

Solas sipped from his drink, still smiling at the memory. "Yes. She said she prefers eating crab, but catching fish. Apparently her uncle is particularly skilled at preparing it."

"You two spend a lot of time together," Varric observed. The comment put Solas immediately on edge, but Varric went on before he could say anything. "Don't get all pissy, Chuckles. It's okay, really." He paused, his expression suddenly gentle, and sighed. "She likes you. That's a good thing. And maybe she's just glad to have another elf around."

"I imagine she is, yes." Solas still had no interest in pursuing this conversation with them. He enjoyed the company of Varric and Blackwall, but their attempts to pry into his relationship with Enaste were grating. It was an entirely private matter, and he owed them no explanation.

His icy response left an awkward pause, just as it had every time they’d brought it up before. After a few tense moments, Varric pushed himself from the table and stood. "I'll be right back, nature's calling."

Blackwall and Solas were fully capable of sitting in comfortable silence together, and often did in the field. Now, though, there was a weight to the silence that made it uneasy. Solas chose to ignore it, and instead stared out over the tavern blankly. It was slower now than it would surely be in a few hours, when the soldiers finished their afternoon training and came to relax. Maryden was tuning her instrument, occasionally strumming lazily, giving the tavern an atmosphere of lighthearted anticipation. 

When Blackwall finally spoke, his voice was gentler than before, and lower, too, as if he didn't want them to be heard. "I like you, Solas. You know that." Solas frowned at him, unsure where this was going, but said nothing. "I know you've seen a lot in your life, and maybe I'm in no place to give you advice. But I'm just going to say it, and you can do with it what you please," Blackwall took a deep breath. "Life is short, and hard, and then you die. I know you want to maintain a... professional relationship with the Inquisitor, and I know you don't want to hurt her reputation, but I've seen the way you look at her." He sighed heavily. "Just… take it from me: don't let your pride get in the way of something good."

There was no teasing in his voice, no playfulness, just an earnest man sharing his thoughts. Solas looked away, quiet for a while longer. It was more poignant than Blackwall could possibly know, and in a way, he was right. "Thank you," Solas said finally. "You make a fair point. I will... consider it."

Blackwall nodded gruffly, and took another long drink. Varric returned soon after, and broke out a deck of cards. Playing Wicked Grace with the two of them was a ritual Solas had become accustomed to, as even at camp Varric always had a deck of cards. Enaste joined them on occasion, and one memorable evening most of the camp played a massive game together. He preferred it like this though, and not just because Blackwall had a tendency to bet far too much. It was quieter, easier, and he didn’t have to think quite so much about how to fill the silence.

<- prev fic | next fic ->

[awesomecopper]

I do get why so many fans love Divine Leliana, I do. But Divine Vivienne has so much good stuff going on and honestly is so underrated. The tone of her Divine ending epilogue is made so... villainous? But think about what she accomplishes. From the wiki:

"To the surprise of many, she reinstates the Circle of Magi and creates a Templar Order firmly leashed to her hand.

Mages rise quickly in the new Circle, having more freedom and responsibility then ever before - even if all true power lies with her."

People get so hung up on her reinstating the circle of magi and templars and others within the chantry like cassandra finding her tyrannical. But look at what she's doing. She leashes the templars, which implies that the templar order has far more checks and balances than before and prevents them from being able to abuse mages without consequence like they could in circles like Kirkwall's.

Mages within Vivienne's circle system have both freedom and responsibility. The "all true power lies with her" bit isn't something that is unique to Vivienne. This is literally how it works with lierally every Divine ever except for Leliana. But what is unique to Divine Vivienne is that she's creating opportunities for mages to have the same opportunity that she did. Consider how poorly the mage rebellion was organized in Redcliffe, and how quick they were to ally with Alexius. Part of that choice was due to lack of allies, yes. But I think part of that was also due to how unprepared most mages in southern Thedas were pre-inquisition for making choices of their own without chantry oversight (which is by design on the chantry's part). Within Vivienne's chantry, mages gain responsibility while also having the security of the circles behind them. Also, I can't find the lines at the moment but I could have sworn that mages within Vivienne's Chantry have the freedom to join the Chantry's hierarchy as sisters and mothers? If I have that right then for all of Vivienne's time as Divine, mages will have been earning the goodwill of the populace by being among them the same way all sisters and mothers are instead of hidden away in the circles like the majority have been before the mage rebellion. This makes it much more likely that Vivienne's reforms as Divine will stick after her death, since any future Divine who tries to restore the old status quo will now have to deal with the people of Thedas who now personally care about the mages who they interact with in their day to day lives, as well as more politically savvy circle mages who will be better prepared to advocate for themselves. Leliana's reforms have appeal as well, but Vivienne as Divine creates such an interesting world state that she is my personal favorite of the three options.

[jules-writes-stories]

🐶🎉🍂👄

🐶⇢ Tag another creator and give them a compliment! 

My current favorite OC is by @zenkindoflove (coincidentally thanks for the ask, but unrelated!) Alexius is all heart and he’s healing our Autumn Prince. I love him.

I also love @chunkypossum and @the-darkestminds, @mistandmemories … who are all currently (or just finished) writing multi-chapter Azris fics alongside me, and I am loving their versions of Eris (all slightly different, but all perfection).

I have a million other artists and writers to tag…but I was supposed to name one and I’m up to 4!

🎉⇢ Summarize one of your Eris creations using the format of “It’s like X meets Y!”

I’m giving an easy answer here, but Into the Night is Greek Myth (Hades x Persephone meets Azris). All the characters are cast as Greek deities and they fit into their roles (except Cass who plays himself lol).

🍂 ⇢ Describe one of your upcoming creations using three emojis.

☀️ ❤️ 🔥

👄 ⇢ Give us a prompt for next year’s Eris Week

Maybe an Autumn Court Day that’s dedicated to fics, mood boards and art about Eris and his Autumn Court. The aesthetic and history, the Vanserras, how the political system work… what happens during a Blood Duel? What do their “lesser fae” look like?! I want my world building fam out in front ♥️

[andhumanslovedstories]

An Annotated Dorian/Iron Bull rec list

for my bestie @hubristicfool who will not let me forget that I said I'd make one, and also for myself so I remember what I like, and also you, random reader, if you want to take a peek, but again, mostly for my very annoying best friend hey at least they all aren't incredibly long.

More to be added, but the website keeps crashing while I make this post and jesus christ I don't want to redo this

No chaos in the world by Nele (75k)

“No Qunari would accept a Tevinter mage so easily... unless it was a ruse. When should I expect a knife in the back?” It was a ruse, at least in the beginning.

On this, my most recent Dorian/Iron Bull kick, this is THEE fic for the pairing. It's got everything--slow burn, enemies to friends with benefits to lovers, Bull POV, Qun shit, Feelings but also Lying but also Lying to Yourself About Your Feelings???, angst, a sideplot dealing with Dorian and Alexius that I consider canonical now. Just very good. Currently my favorite fic.

Returns by taispeantas_laethuil (32k)

The Inquisitor's father comes for an unexpected visit.

What if Dorian was the Inquisitor? It's also one of the only fics I've seen that truly grapples with Dorian's complicity with slavery. This fic has a lot of ideas in it and they come together very well.

and you thought the lions were bad by PersonalSpin (20k)

Bull's pretty sure getting held captive by blood mages wasn't supposed to involve getting to know the guy in the other cell. Promising to get Dorian out of there was easy; the hard part was keeping Dorian alive.

hey you little freak, do you like it when characters you like have a bad time??? me too! Bull POV of Bull getting captured by evil mages and meeting his next door cellmate who is somehow having an even worse time.

Thin Walls Make Good Neighbors by WritingEmi (13k)

Iron Bull, new to Ferelden, moves into the apartment next to Dorian's. And Dorian, who arrived in Ferelden just two years ago, doesn't sympathize at all with his new neighbor and his struggles, not in the slightest bit. Or, Dorian secretly goes out of his way to make Iron Bull's life a little easier.

A go-to comfort read fic for me. Fluffy fluffy fluff with enough angst sprinkled in to keep the fluff a-coming.

Muffin Tops by some mysterious stranger ooooh (16k)

Bull owns a bakery. Dorian owns an art gallery. 100% pure, tooth-rotting fluff.

My other go-to comfort read. The author isn't wrong, this shit is PURE fluff. I don't like pure fluff in canon era, but I eat it up in modern AUs.

Anonymous by PeriPeriwinkle (6.9k)

It starts like this: Dorian, 28 years old, single and lonely. And also terribly horny. So he goes to a BDSM club that his friend Mae frequents, because what's the harm in enjoying some quick, fun, anonymous sexy times?

Speaking of modern au fluff. Hot, sweet, and I love the writing.

The Inquisitor's father comes for an unexpected visit.

Nothing to Regret by WritingEmi (44k words)

Dorian, still reeling from rejection by the Inquisitor, tries to find out about the truth of what happened to his friends in Redcliffe. The Iron Bull, at least, is a good distraction through the long period of waiting and Dorian believes he now knows better than to let emotions get involved with it all.

I fuckin love stories where Dorian and Iron Bull get together after one of them (but let's be real, it's always Dorian) is pining for someone else. This one is from Dorian's POV and makes wonderful use of my favorite thing single POV fics do--letting the readers know how much the other half of the couple is into the narrator while the narrator is completely unaware. Delightful. A little chef's kiss. Plus enough plot to keep you busy.

By a Law Divine by musiquetta (30k)

The Iron Bull and Dorian have been a 'thing' for a few months when the Inquisitor and Cassandra end their tumultuous romance. Technically, this has nothing to do with Dorian and Bull, except that Bull had always suspected that Dorian had been a little broken-hearted over Trevelyan not doing anything about the little flirt he had with the Tevinter mage.

And thus one majorly upset Inquisitor, a definitely not jealous Tal-Vashoth and a Tevinter mage caught in between all set off on a trip to Crestwood.

That can't possibly go wrong.

Similar concept to the one above, except this one Dorian and Bull are in an established relationship and there's alternating POV, which I also very much love. The misunderstandings in this one are delightfully sloppy and high emotion, and I really like Dorian's relationship with the Inquisitor.

in the future, when we fell in love by homsantoft (tofsla) (12k)

Dorian and the Inquisitor spend a lot longer than a few hours displaced in time by Alexius' magic. Working through all of the consequences takes even longer.

Time travel and pining for a person who is the same person as the person you love but not the same person. A two person love triangle. Author does a good job of balancing two time periods at once as well.

The Years Between by homsantoft (tofsla) (8k)

Dorian returns to Tevinter, and makes no promises when he goes. If there's a Qunari mercenary he desperately didn't want to leave behind, well, what good would saying so have done?

Mutual pining, between the end of the main game and the beginning of Trespasser.

Writing up a little thing for each of these fics about why I like them has made me realize the sheer extent of my love for mutual pining for someone you're in an established relationship with. Anyway, this one is more of that and very good at it.

honey we're the big door prize by sabinelagrande (3.6k)

The blood magic didn't quite work, but it did enough damage to matter. And then, out of nowhere, things go right.

Hey look, a short one! Funny, a little sad, and pretty hot.

T is for Tal-Vashoth by sabinelagrande (4.8k)

A group of qunari seek refuge at Skyhold, and Dorian's life gets wildly out of hand.

Hey look, another short one! I'm gonna do a little slew of little shorties down here for you, my annoying best friend, and I'm also going to aim this annotation directly at you: unfortunately, this very cute fic does feature your greatest enemy, aka small children. And it's adorable.

grope blindly towards happiness by sabinelagrande huh I'm beginning to think I maybe like this author (2.7k)

Dorian's life is full of choices. He might prefer that it not be.

Another good classic "hey what the fuck are we to each other" fic.

[romac-and-cheese]

DUNGEONS AND DIRECTORATES

Entry 2: THE CALL TO ADVENTURE!

(Profile pic by Vitaly S. Alexius) (Sounds from Soundtrap.com Free Sounds Library)

---

"SNIPSTER!" Captain loudly proclaimed, "I AM SENDING YOU ON A MISSION OF UTMOST IMPORTANCE!"

"Mhm." I hadn't been given a proper 'mission' since we returned from the moon. Biomatrix was still somewhere out there, so I was left to defend for myself yet again. I checked if I still had my gun on me. To my surprise, it hadn't been stolen.

"What's the mission?" I asked.

Captain grabbed me by the shoulders and pointed out a distant building.

"YOU MUST JOURNEY TO ZEE STORE AND PURCHASE SOME SNACKAGES! WE WILL NEED ZEE CALORIES IN ZEE COMING DAYS!" Captain boomed.

The practicality of the mission surprised me. Captain slapped some pieces of paper to my chest,

"ZIS SHOULD BE MORE ZHAN ENOUGH PAYMENT FOR ZEE VENDER."

I caught the papers before they fell. It was more 'captainia bucks' of varying colors. I thought it was cute how the different moneys had portraits of not just Captain, but Engie, Pilot and myself. I was on the '5 Captainia cents' bill. No doubt Pilot's handiwork.

"Alright," I said, "Do I get a grocery list, too?"

"NON!" Captain waved zeer hand dismissively, "JUST GET WHATEVER YOUR HEART DESIRES!"

"Okay..." This was actually beginning to concern me, "You didn't fill the store with traps or anything, did you?"

"NO MORE QUESTIONS!" Zee shoved me in the direction of the store, "TIME IS SLIPPERY AND SLIDING AWAY AS WE SPEAK!"

"I WILL SEE U LATER TONIGHT, MEIN MINKSTRUDEL!" Captain called, walking off.

I raised an eyebrow. Captain sending me to find food? At a specific place? With my gun? And no list of random objects?

Something told me this store would either be really good.... or really, really bad.

___

The road to the store was empty, except for the usual skeletons and cars, and an upturned statue lying half-buried in the snow.

'All the monsters must be on holiday,' I mused.

...I still kept my gun at the ready.

As I walked, I wondered what holiday was closest. Maybe Halloween? No, it can't have been that long. Were we in July? I didn't know any holidays in July... Though my birthday was in June. Could my birthday count as a holiday now that society's collapsed? I bet it could be if I asked Captain.

After all, in 'Captainia', every day was a holiday. For all I knew, it was 'Brush Your Teeth Memorial' day, or 'International Hopping' day, or 'Window Blinds Appreciation' day. Okay, I actually liked that last one.

Captain closed the blinds to our current base and everyone slept in. Afterwards, zee forced the rest of us to go around the nearby buildings and open all the blinds on every floor.

At least it wasn't too different from the usual scavenging. I even found a small stash of food! So overall that holiday ranked pretty high on my list.

A faint ringing noise crept into my hearing. Was this tinnitus catching up with me? I listened carefully. It sounded like it was getting louder...

Wait a minute, that's no tinnitus!

That's a telephone!

I broke into a sprint. The sound was coming from the store!

The vast concrete storefront loomed miles above me. The giant 'G-Super-Deluxe-"All-You-Need-And-More"©' store sign had fallen and blocked the many entrances. Luckily, the 'o' in 'You' lined up just right with one of the doorways.

I crawled through the 'o' and paused. The inside of the building was pitch black.

I shouldered my gun and pulled out my flashlight. It was a cheap kid's toy, operated by a bright yellow hand-crank. It was pretty useful considering there weren't many batteries around, and Captain seemed enthusiastic about the 'COMBINATION RENEWABLE ENERGY AND ARM-DAY EXERCISE' aspects of it... But using it did mean I had to put my gun away.

I spun the crank and swung the light around to make sure I wasn't about to dive headfirst into a deadzone worm hive.

The light bounced off of soaked tile floors and metal shelves. No worms, thank g-d.

I dropped to the floor with a splash. The telephone was louder now. Its rings bounced around the vast store, echoing from everywhere in the dark. I listened carefully...

There. The ringing came from somewhere to my right.

I set off towards it. The flashlight began to die, so I spun the crank, but the sound drowned out the ringing. I had to pause and listen again.

Ah-ha! Found you!

A hole punched in the ceiling from miles above streamed light onto an old-timey phone booth. It must have fallen through after the moon incident.

Within the glass walls, the telephone rang.

I raced to it. Who could be calling? Other survivors? No way it was Captain again. My heart pounded. I snatched the phone from the receiver. I held it up-

"Hello?" I gasped.

"HELLO! EEZ THIS UBERDASH?"

...Of course...

"No, this is Snippy." I didn't feel like playing along.

"OKAY, SNUPERDASH! I HAVE AN ORDER FOR YOU AND I NEED IT DELIVERED QUICKLY!"

"Right," I sighed, "What's the order?"

"GET ME SOME O'DEM JIGGLEY BEARS!" I held the phone away from myself as Captain shouted, "AND PILOT WANTS ZEE WORMS!"

"Yep, got it." I said.

I decided not to bring up that gummy bears and gummy worms were the same thing in different shapes. Engie must have had the same thought, because I heard him faintly say something, followed by Pilot shouting, and then Captain boomed directly into the phone: "YOUR PALETTE SIMPLY LACKS ZEE COLORS TO TASTE ZEE DIFFERENCE!"

"Do you want anything else?" I asked, propping an elbow on the receiver box.

"ENGIE WANTS CHIPS!" Captain said, and that was when I noticed a shiny dark hand-thing climbing up the side of the telephone booth.

Dragged behind it was a massive grinning face. The eyes fixed on me.

"SNIPPY? DID YOU GET ALL ZAT?"

"...Call you back," I whispered.

[deusexlachina]

STEMquisition Part 2 (The Threat Remains) - A treatise on packing heat

In which Cervastes grabs a gun.

Leliana tells me to go to the Hinterlands to find and rescue Mother Giselle, an open-minded priestess who might be able to help get public support. Unfortunately, the Hinterlands is crawling with common bandits, who are vastly more well-armed than the Inquisition's elite. Our only hope to save Mother Giselle is science. Specifically the kind of science that gives you guns.

This is a reskinned Elgar'nan Enaste, so it shoots exploding bolts. It is cobbled together from literal garbage, but a good engineer can easily make literal garbage better than ancient legendary artifacts. With the power of A Gun, I save Giselle from templars, mages, and mercenaries working for the mages, all of whom have independently decided to stop fighting each other and attack some random refugees for reasons we will never know because I shot them all. I don't know why they don't grab a gun. I guess they didn't science hard enough. Skill issue.

Mother Giselle points me to Val Royeaux, saying that people there want to kill me but I can make them doubt, and it will be better if they're friends than enemies. I thank her for this utterly useless lead and head off to Val Royeaux, where I am accused of being a false prophet of Andraste despite repeatedly denying any involvement with Andraste.

But she's already sent for the templars, who punch her in the face, refuse to elaborate and leave. I've made no allies, but I look like less of an asshole by default, so I leave on a high note. On my way out, I recruit Sera, because she can also use a gun (even if she doesn't quite know a safe way to hold one).

You're holding that gun like a bow, Sera! It doesn't work that way!!!

I also recruit Fiona, except I didn't because Alexius, an evil wizard from Tevinter (the shitty bitch country with legal slavery) retroactively beat me to her with time fuckery.

I get a little nervous. I'm up against another scientist, and he's got time travel whereas I only have guns whereas everyone else has swords because they suck.

I'll need to bring all my scientific knowledge to bear to outwit this enemy!

[fadedsweater]

Hello! For no particular reason whatsoever (jk this is for the Arlathan Exchange), what is Eira Lavellan's canon timeline of events in DAI? How does her relationship with Solas evolve?

Oh hello anon, and thank you for the ask! 👀

Great question! Definitely not helped by the fact that most of my published fics are post-trespasser stuff and aus and smut 😂

This is gonna be a LONG one. So I'm putting it under a cut and tagging it with "OC lore" to make it easy to find. Feel free to skim as needed! Some of this may be a bit repetitive from my exchange letter.

Before I start though, I just want to make it super clear that you absolutely don't have to use my OC, and I will love whatever you make whether it's an OC or a generic Lavellan. 💛

Eira's timeline follows the in-game canon pretty closely, except I usually lengthen the amount of time the events of Inquisition take (because a single year feels very unbelievable to me.)

Before the events of the game start, she's in her mid-thirties, has been the First of her clan for many years, and is probably expecting to become the clan's Keeper in the next few years or so. Her father is a halla keeper and her mother works with textiles. Her name is Eira (loosely translated as "snow" in Elvhen) because she was born during a rare cold snap, during which the snow stuck around for longer than usual.

When she was a child, she thought she'd become a halla keeper like her dad, but then her magic revealed itself and she became the clan's First instead. Her clan travels around the Amaranthine Ocean's coast outside of Wycome, sticking to forests when they aren't trading with humans. They take their halla up into the mountains in the spring to graze and harvest their wool. (I like to imagine halla are similar to different breeds of cashmere goats!)

As the Herald, Eira sides with the mages. She doesn't love being the so-called "Herald of Andraste," but is shrewd about her position -- she has the Anchor, there's a hole in the sky, someone has to deal with (and if she can leverage that position to help her people, she will). She's patient (if at times a bit cold) with her advisors and new companions. She warms up to most everyone eventually (particularly becoming friends with Dorian, Bull, Cole, and Cassandra) but is keenly aware of her position and the weight and baggage that the title of Herald and later Inquisitor hold. I haven't actually decided how she deals with the Winter Palace yet. My gut says she probably finds a way to ally with Briala. Later on she also allies with the wardens, much to Solas’s chagrin.

Other decisions: she becomes a knight enchanter, she saves the Chargers, she (gently) convinces Solas to spare the mages who accidentally kill Wisdom, she keeps Cole as a spirit, she helps Vivienne with the wyvern heart, she helps Cullen stop lyrium, and she forgives Blackwall. She does not drink from the Well (which she later feels regret and grief about). She keeps her vallaslin. Her clan survives the events of Inquisition, and she maintains a good relationship with them.

Her "sit in judgement" decisions rely on empathy and the desire to see people become better. She isn't cruel and doesn't enjoy suffering, and doesn't make decisions out of revenge. She's diplomatic where she can be, and values harm reduction. If someone can be better, and be useful or helpful (like in the case of sparing Alexius and having him study under the Inquisition's watch), she'll pursue that. This of course informs her desire to save Solas at the end of trespasser. She not only sees him as worth saving but as capable of being saved.

I'd say her relationship with Solas also develops pretty closely to what we see in canon. They start as kind of hesitant allies, then become friends, and then realize they have feelings for each other, have the Fade kiss, etc. In the very beginning, they're kind of wary of each other, but Eira soon comes to enjoy talking with Solas. While she does disagree with him on several subjects (like the Dalish), she finds that he's usually open to hearing her out and admitting when he's wrong, which she respects. She almost sees him as an odd sort of puzzle, and is kind of compelled by him, and starts to enjoy their discussions and their arguments. Having spent much of her life aware and embedded in Dalish politics, she's used to dealing with difficult people, so I don't think she's too put off by Solas’s more difficult nature. It helps that he does seem to genuinely care about helping people -- that means a lot to her. Here's a summary (from a wip of course 😂) of that relationship stage from Solas’s POV:

Still they argue often. He challenges her Dalish beliefs about spirits and the Fade, about their gods and their stories, and she challenges his own assumptions in turn. He finds she is not as ignorant as he once feared. He finds instead that her beliefs are nuanced, her opinions carefully crafted and born from research, from a life spent in the scholarly pursuits of magic and history. He begins to enjoy their arguments, their rhetorical sparring and endless discussions. He begins, despite himself, to look forward to them. 

She surprises and confounds him at every junction. He fears, even, that she has become a friend. 

They don't develop a Proper Relationship until after Solas's balcony confession scene, and probably have their first time sometime shortly after that. And while Solas is quick to say "I love you," she's a lot more hesitant. That level of emotional intimacy is a bit difficult for her.

Because of who they both are as people, they're a little cautious and awkward around each other at first. Eira's worst fears revolve around losing control, and so emotional vulnerability can be difficult for her. She's always wary of pushing Solas’s boundaries and is very gentle and careful with him. She probably realizes she loves him sometime mid-game, and probably at a really innocuous moment when they're traveling or something. By the time the Winter Palace happens, I'd say they're very comfortable with each other and at like, the peak point of their relationship in terms of comfort, vulnerability, and trust (it's a smut fic, but this is a pretty good summary of their dynamic at that point.)

To me her relationship with Solas is all about like...two very guarded people who haven't had a relationship in a long time learning to be *people* with each other. With Solas she doesn't have to be the "Inquisitor" (him calling her this post-breakup hurts even more for this reason), and can just be her nerdy awkward self around him. Similarly, Solas can mostly forget his own position while he's with her. They still enjoy the occasional verbal sparring match and banter, but there's an undercurrent of love and trust.

Eira knows throughout most of the relationship that Solas has secrets and a past he won't share. She's patient with him about it, and never pushes him. When he breaks up with her, she assumes it's likely related to that. She's angry and bitter, but she doesn't hate him.

After he leaves, though, she's pretty wrecked and heartbroken. It takes a lot for her to open up and trust someone, so to have him leave (without even saying goodbye!) feels like a stark betrayal. She can't stand the way her friends seem to pity her and feel bad for her, either. Leading up to Trespasser, she sort of just squares that part of herself away and focuses on the Inquisition.

During Trespasser, she learns that Solas is Fen’Harel before he can reveal it to her himself. Her reaction is less shock and horror and more a grim "this makes sense." She's mostly upset that he never trusted her enough to tell her.

Post-Trespasser, she's determined to save both Solas AND the world, in part because it's what she *wants* and in part because she's convinced that its the only way forward. She has a theory that the Veil is already failing, and that if Solas dies bringing it down -- that's just one less powerful ally the world has against the Evanuris and all the other horrors to come.

Post-Tespasser Eira is reclusive, secretive, and kind of a hot mess. She's that meme of the big conspiracy theory board with all the red lines connecting everything.

She disbands the Inquisition, convinced that it only presents Solas more opportunities to spy. She takes heart in Leliana's assurances that they have their own network of contacts and spies, and also in the fact that Cassandra as the Divine is a powerful ally. She spends her time traveling and learning everything she can about the Veil and Solas’s plans, making time for her clan and her friends where she can.

In my happy ending au, I basically skip over how this would all actually resolve because I simply don't have enough information. The basics: she and Solas are together, and the Veil is peacefully coming down, though there may be issues to deal with once that happens. It takes awhile for her to trust him again, and to work through all of her complicated feelings. Their relationship is pretty delicate for awhile, but eventually becomes fairly healthy and loving.

Okay 😂 that was a lot! I hope that answers your questions, and if not feel free to send another ask if you need to! And again, feel free to use your own OC or a generic one! I promise I will love whatever you create 💛💛💛

[choccy-zefirka]

Lab safety? What lab safety?

The wonderful @ziskandra enabled me, so after more than a year of being incapable of writing anything new, I churned out a 5K-long s3x pollen crackfic, starring Alexius and Yvie!

Before you proceed, be mindful of the content! Aside from some warnings like angst and a minor reference to Alexius’ self-destructive tendencies post-defeat, the fic contains the following bad writing elements:

Word repetition.

Weird purple-prosey metaphors that might not make much sense.

References to Phantom of the Opera (deliberately sprinkled in lyrics from Music of the Night).

Questionable/unrealistic smex (body-generated lubrication only, both parties coming at the same time) written by an asexual who is pretty rusty in the smut department.

The usual OOC redemption for Alexius, manic pixie dream girl energy for Yvie.

Non-linear narrative constantly broken up by tangents.

Present tense.

Head-hopping: the story is written in dual perspectives, Alexius in regular font, Yvie in cursive. They both converge when the two reach sexual climax.

My only justification is that I had fun writing it after a long dry spell (huehue).

Softly, deftly, the song weaves through the laboratory.

The gentle Orlesian warble trails over the cluttered research desks, leaps from shelf to shelf, from piles of ground crystal to the yellowing severed claws of some massive creature, and weaves between the flasks, tall and narrow, short and stout, clear to the point of invisibility and dusty to the point of fuzz.

The song's path is elaborate, looping, like gold embroidery — and in a blink, the metaphor becomes real. The sound vibrations meet the unseen ripples in the air that create the Veil; as they collide, as the song pushes against the barrier between the mundane and the magical, a spell is cast.

Today, the Inquisitor is practicing telekinesis. Her voice manifests into long, glowing threads that wrap around the neck of a random potion bottle — with something bright-orange and altogether unappetizing sloshing thickly against its sides — and drag it through the air towards her. The ride is a little bumpy, and the bottle makes a few dangerous bobs and swerves, much too close to the sharp corners of tables and cupboards, or the heavy stone ceiling. But in the end, it arrives safe and sound at its destination: in the Inquisitor's cupped hands. Most importantly of all, not a droplet of the orange ooze, which someone irresponsibly left without a stopper, has been spilled.

The Inquisitor stops singing after she gets her prize. She takes some time to catch a breath — and also seizes the moment to flash a radiant grin at Alexius.

He smiles back... As best he can, with those stiff lips of his, unused to making any expression in the past months except for jeering and snarling and sealing his voice away in despondent silence.

That is enough for her. Just as his company, for whatever odd reason, is enough for her. She nods at him, gingerly walks over to return the potion bottle to its circle in the shelf's dust, and eventually steps back, chest rising upon inhale. Ready to begin again.

And all the while, Alexius... observes.

Phonomancy — casting magic by warping the Veil with sound waves — is a rarer type of spellcraft. But not unheard of, certainly not in *cultured* places like Tevinter. In fact, it falls under thaumaturgy. Thus, when the Inquisition realized that the Mark had granted its Chosen the ability to affect her surroundings when she sings, it could not be clearer that someone had to teach her how to master this unexpected new skill. Someone from Tevinter. Someone who had been top of his class in thaumaturgy at the Minrathous Circle.

Dorian.

Yet he refused.

"Finally, someone in this backwater acknowledges my brilliance," he said, his nonchalant mask firmly on. "But I am afraid I would make a horrible teacher. I have no patience for anyone more than an inch below my level. No offense."

The Inquisitor seemed to take none — but Dorian still hurried to apologize, eyes widening, mask slipping a fraction. He had, of course, meant the difference in their skill level, not the Inquisitor's height, inherited, as they say, mostly from her dwarven mother. While her elven father gave her the slight point to her ears, and, perhaps, that innate spark of magic that lay dormant until she touched the artefact of the Elder One... Corypheus.

Instead of his own candidacy, Dorian pushed forward — figuratively, and, rather unceremoniously, literally — Alexius, who had been allowed to attend the council on the Inquisitor's magic. With a guard on either side, a massive steel frame for his morose portrait. With runed shackles on his wrists, to be removed for an hour a day, and otherwise ready to erupt into crackling bright-blue agony if he attempted to cast a spell. With his skin itching in the trap of a hand-me-down Circle robe. And with his response to the Inquisitor's judgement — "A headsman would have been kinder" — still bitter and heavy on his tongue.

Why Dorian vouched for him, Alexius will never know. Maybe his former apprentice did think that someone with teaching experience would be better suited for exploring obscure magic with a beginner. After all, Dorian's mind has always raced miles and miles ahead of his peers, at a pace of an untamed dracolisk. Someone who, just a year prior, had only ever heard of magic as an alien, frightening contagion that landed her fellow southerners in shackles, would not have been able to keep up with him. The Inquisitor needed someone who knew how to guide her on a mage's journey, from the very first steps. And adding to that, Alexius was there, in the garden, when — No, it doesn't matter.

Maybe, instead, it was a gesture of pity. A way of giving Alexius something to do. True, he had already been appointed as "arcane researcher" — a much too generous job title that was really just imprisonment in a cell that happened to have a stack of books in it. But this — training the Inquisitor in phonomancy... Oh, this was a challenge.

Challenges have a way of filling one's time. Of speeding it up — Alexius should know. And when the time moves faster, the void that stalks the empty hours before dawnbreak, maw ready to open, teeth ready to feast, does not seem as dark. Despair's breath does not seem as cold. The whistling plummet off Skyhold's battlements, the sheaved steel of a guard's blade, the perfectly black vial of poison in this very laboratory, does not seem as alluring.

So here he is. With something to do.

The Inquisitor has long since stopped needing his instructions, his eye on her stance, his hand at her elbow. The first steps are behind her; the songbird has taken wing. She still makes mistakes, but she knows how to fix them — and to a teacher, that is worth so much more than perfection. Dorian might gasp in mock outrage, but the first lesson that Alexius taught him, a spitfire of a boy with leaking makeup and wine on his breath, defying his father yet still terrified of stumbling and falling in front of him, was that falling does not matter so much as getting up.

Yet despite all this, the Inquisitor continues to call on Alexius whenever she returns to Skyhold from her travels — where she still wields her twin daggers, as the battlefield leaves little breathing room to stop and sing. She continues to welcome him to her phonomancy practice. Not as a prisoner — his shackles were removed some time ago, and the guard outside the laboratory has wandered off somewhere, their post reduced to a formality. Not as a teacher either. As someone who, in a different world, in yet another branching timeline where neither of them had ever killed the other, might have been... A friend.

The Inquisitor is singing an all-new song now. Her magic's golden stream ebbs and flows in time with the unrushed, slightly melancholy Orlesian verse. This time, it divides in two: one ethereal ribbon sweeps up an empty beaker; another, a bowl of dried plant leaves.

Frowning slightly in concentration, yet never letting her tempo dip, the Inquisitor guides the two together, inch by careful inch. Her deep black eyes narrow; her short-nailed, hardworking fingers clench and unclench. At her mental command, the bowl dips, then shakes a little, shifting the leaves all to one side. And at last, they rustle down, into the beaker, not a single one of them falling loose.

Alexius attempts a new smile. It is quite fascinating to watch, this kind of magic.

And she... She is fascinating as well.

For many years, before that one day, Satinalia Eve of 9:38, plowed a charred black gash across his life's calendar, he and his Livia had had a certain... agreement. While their love for each other was strong and true, only further tempered in the usual Tevinter crucible of intrigues and assassinations, they were free to take others into their bed, separately or together. Now and again, he'd entertained himself on that agreement's terms — and then hurlocks' rusted blades and genlocks' dripping jaws turned his wife into a bloody, ragged... nothing, scarcely enough for a funeral pyre. After that, and in the midst of clawing his fingers raw against time's unmoving, implacable granite, to scrape together a feeble semblance of life for his son... It never occurred to him to recreate the agreement.

With one person or several. It felt wrong.

It still feels wrong, but for a slightly different reason. The aching emptiness beside him, where he should have seen Livia whenever he looked behind, still pulls his insides taut. But now this ache has receded... Just enough for him to notice how lush and dark the Inquisitor's eyelashes are. How the green in her hair — the result of a girlish urge to get a dye, she says, which she liked enough to continue using well into adulthood — shines and ripples like the stormy sea back home. How regal her aquiline profile looks when bathed in stark light, even if she herself would laugh and say that she's just a humble gardener from a mountain village. How her voice, aside from being an unusual spell-casting focus, is also entrancing to listen to.

And, like many times before, he finds himself entranced, utterly, completely. Lost in her movements, the delightfully focused expression on her sun-kissed face, the caress of her musical magic. He almost wants... But he can't. Not like this. Not in this place and time.

In his confinement — which, as noted, the Inquisition has been making more and more lax since he showed no signs of ripping off his robe and running around screeching cult propaganda — he has had plenty of opportunity to reflect. To regret. To reach out, clumsily and insufficiently, to those he wronged, from Dorian to Grand Enchanter Fiona.

Yet no matter what he does, he will still remain irrevocably broken.

He failed; failed so miserably — as a magister, a father... Perhaps not so much as a teacher. Still. For all the kindness she has shown him, even at his lowest, in the freezing dungeon underneath Haven, his touch will not elicit anything but disgust. Hers is to shine as the last beacon against the storm the El — Corypheus will bring. His is to bask in her presence, for as long as she allows it. And use his oh so great educational talent to teach himself not to yearn.

 Tremulous, tender, the song unfurls for exactly as long as Yvie needs, to float the beaker and the now empty bowl back to where she raised them from. Right to the top of a precarious stack of messy, ink-splotched formula sheets.

With this balancing act completed, she relaxes her spine — which she did not even realize was feeling like a steel rod jammed into her flesh — and gulps to soothe her parched throat.

As she steadies her breathing again, her thoughts race faster than the rise and fall of her chest. A jumble of past ideas, and plans for the future.

Another spell completed. It may feel like a cheap parlor trick now; pointless, too, because just walking around and gathering all this potion paraphernalia by hand is much easier than over-exerting her lungs. But she has a use planned for it — for the good of the Inquisition.

Previously, she taught herself to close wounds by whispering a song into bleeding skin. And now, once she is done training with small objects, she will have enough control over her pitch and singing stamina to move on to something larger. Like construction materials.

Ever since she learned from Josephine that a worker had lost their life on the castle scaffolding, Yvie (once she was done with her ugly bawling over this senseless loss of life) has been doing a bit of... prancing on a hobby horse. She's been trying — with a nearly feverish obstinacy — to get the Inquisition mages to move the building blocks telekinetically from the safety of firm ground, the way they do it in Tevinter.

So far, people have been bristling at the idea of borrowing "unholy" techniques from the dread magister empire. Even Vivienne, who did reward Yvie's tenacity with a gracious nod and a long thoughtful look, was skeptical that such a risky project would take. Their rapport is decent enough for Vivienne not to call the idea foolish outright, but Yvie could almost see the word dancing around the corners of her impeccable half-smile.

But what if she leads by example? Holds a public demonstration? Shows them that, if she moves around a couple of rocks, no demons are going to burst out of the ground and eat her face?

Surely, that ought to persuade the mages to step outside the box! Especially if there is a nice musical accompaniment to raise morale. Some seem to actually... relish in spreading rumors that Yvie's voice has the same mystical power as the songs of Andraste, which swayed the Maker to humankind's side for a brief lapse, centuries ago.

She is uncertain how to feel about the comparison, as someone who learned her letters by monkeying her way up to the rafters of the Chantry school in her village and listening in on the lessons — very, very quietly, not daring to even breathe in the general direction of her neighbors, very jumpy, and potentially very noisy, pigeons. For that was no place for her. The Sisters who taught the human children said that the light of the Maker shone neither on her mother's people, not her father's. So if people absolutely must draw the comparison with Andraste, Yvie would much rather they did something useful with it. Like becoming inspired to magically strengthen the walls of Skyhold.

Of course, regular telekinetic spells are different from phonomancy, and to train mages in those, they'd need to import special literature from Tevinter. Maybe even translate it. But this is nothing that cannot be arranged by Josephine. Especially if Dorian pitches in to help. And... And Gereon too.

After enough visits to the dungeon, enough late-night conversations, enough assurances that she is giving him a second chance, he allowed her to call him by his first name. But she chokes it back when speaking out loud: it withers on her tongue whenever he addresses her with the formal "Inquisitor".

Now that she thinks of it, she only called him Gereon once. Back there, in the garden, when — When he saved her life.

That was when she'd first discovered her phonomantic abilities: she had been singing to her new deathroot sapling to help it grow, out of youthful habit passed on from her mother... And right in the middle of her song, came with a nauseating slither: moist tendrils dragging against damp soil.

The plant unfurled into an undulating, tree-sized monstrosity. Its thorny sprouts lacerated her poor green patch like whips, and rolled towards her in an instant, wrapping around her in an ever-tightening net, with all its poisoned spikes turned inward, growing and growing and growing with the creak of new leather. Aiming at her eyes. An iron maiden made from a quivering, writhing green mass.

Yvie perches on a stool and surveys the laboratory, supposedly to pick out new clinking playthings to whirl into the air... But her eyes instinctively travel to Gereon, on another stool across the room from her, and linger on his wrists, as her stomach churns with the murky sediment of guilt.

The scars have almost faded now, but she still remembers — she always will — the blood running from under his shackles, across the mangled sliver of flesh that sizzled and blistered, almost turning liquid. Because he had used magic when he was not allowed to. He had noticed her... misadventure when the guards let him out for a breath of air, and jumped to her side, burning the monster deathroot away from conjured flames, even as the pain burned away at him.

"Returning the favor for your little feat in the snow," he said, struggling to turn his wince into a smirk. Referring to how she'd found him, forgotten in the evacuation, as his former master burned down Haven.

The next thing she knew, the guards leapt upon him, about to drag him away to what would turn into a very, very long argument between Yvie and the advisors about his further sentence.

For a fleeting second, before he was shoved past a corner of the inner courtyard's gallery, their eyes met. And she mouthed, brows arching, hands crumpling her layered skirt as anger at the guards' treatment of him began slowly boiling,

"Thank you, Gereon."

The first and last time her lips shaped those three syllables he'd entrusted to her.

But in her thoughts — then, and now, and always — she feels much more free to call him Gereon.

Gereon, meeting her eyes again across the cluttered room. Gereon, a constant reassuring presence throughout her experiments with her voice.

Gereon, who patiently sat with her through her first disastrous mistakes, and insisted that they'd help her grow — but does not allow the same luxury for himself.

Gereon, whose face, with its deep lines and starkly sculpted jaw and cheekbones, has captivated her for so long. As have his elegant hands, his voice, which can be silkily persuasive if he wants to, and... And all of him. Even the shadow of the cold, dangerous magister that still clings to his shoulders like a mantle of burgundy and black.

The gloating villain on his throne, the worn-out prisoner in his chains, the father with a heart so big it stained the world red, the curious researcher right here with her — he has been one of the most remarkable people she has ever met. And one of the most handsome, in a way that most of her friends might not understand. She herself certainly did not understand, all those years ago, when she was a cheeky twenty-something getting on her sister's nerves in Vigil's Keep.

The valiant Warden Commander Julie Kader certainly deserved special commendation (on top of keeping the city of Amaranthine from falling apart) for patiently enduring all of younger Yvie's teasing about that human of hers. The old general, with shadows under his eyes and blood of people betrayed caked deep into the seams of his silver armor.

Yvie could not fathom what all the fuss was back then. Why would silly Julie fall for a man twenty years her senior, who'd been the archnemesis of her predecessor, the mysteriously absent Warden Mahariel? But it seems like a weakness for villains runs in the Kader family.

And oh, Yvie is certainly weak for Gereon. If only she could... But he can't — he can't feel the same way. He —

"Is everything well, Inquisitor?" he asks, rising from his seat. Ready to be at her side.

"You have not started a new spell in some time."

She nearly rockets into the ceiling. Has she been that lost in thought? Was it really obvious how foolishly she has been daydreaming about villains?

"I, well... "

She mirrors his motion, flailing her arms chaotically to imitate lighthearted gestures. That one might make. When things are perfectly fine.

The hem of her sleeve — adorned with a broad band of lace, in her favorite rustic style — knocks against yet another alchemical vial. She is not certain what is in it; she is not certain about the contents of most potion bottles here. Asking the Inquisition's mages to let her use one of the laboratories for phonomancy practice seemed like a clever idea at the time, because she thought that the presence of potentially volatile ingredients might add incentive to be very careful and precise with her telekinesis... But now she is seeing the error of her ways.

When the vial flies off to the floor, and shatters.

 Alexius' first thought, when the air begins to bloom with huge tufts of lurid pink smoke — far too much of it to have been contained in such a small vessel — is the Inquisitor. Yvonne, he supposes he can call her in the shameful privacy of his mind. He does not dare to think of her as Yvie, not even at the height of emotion.

Just like back then, in the garden, when she looked at him with those bottomless eyes of hers and said his name, and he felt the first jolt of something that was not the pain from his shackles — Not that it matters! It shouldn't matter — he Fade-steps, leaving a wake of his silhouette's pale imprints.

In a blink, he is near her. Magic crackling at his fingertips. A barrier might help, shield them both...

Such foolishness. It is already too late. The smoke has crept up his throat, and, judging by her hoarse coughs, hers as well. Cloying, carrion-sweet.

Alexius gags. Sways, head swimming. For a moment, he feels not quite like himself, but rather like one of those effervescent duplicates created by the Fade step. Thin and weightless as gossamer, detached from his physical body. Not... Not an unpleasant sensation. Amusing even.

The sound of his own barking laughter — a sound he all but forgot how to make — both startles and grounds him. He slides back into his body, and blinks.

Somehow, the colors of everything scattered around the laboratory seem more saturated. The sundry ingredients glitter a lavish green, and gold, and turquoise, and magenta. Even the wood of the desks and the chairs has an almost crimson tint to it now.

And in the heart of this explosive palette, stands Yvonne. Yvie. Yvie. The beautiful Yvie. Emerald in her hair, sun's glow on her skin, fire in her half-lidded eyes.

Alexius' chest tightens, and then relaxes, his heart feeling like it has swollen twofold in size. The longing he has been trying to suppress is back in full force, scorching him from his loins to his throat.

He staggers towards her, driven by a single intent that he cannot bury deep down any more. The whole world has stopped existing, save for her. And himself — but he so desperately wants to stop existing as well. To be consumed by her.

 A second ago, she thinks she was worried for him. Frightened that those suffocating fumes might make him faint. But now, she does not even quite understand what "worrying" is. What it feels like. What anything feels like. Except for the ravishing, all-consuming thirst that scrapes at the back of her throat when she looks at him.

She licks her lips. His eyes dart back and forth, following her tongue's motion, and a tiny whimper knocks against his teeth. This sends a hot pulse below her stomach, and she laughs, an echoing, not-quite-there laugh that feels as surreal as the vivid bursts of color all around her. She cannot believe that once upon a time, in some weird other world, she was afraid to approach him... Like this. Look at him. So beautiful.

Oh, she would let him do anything to her. And then respond in kind.

 She, too, floats to him on waves of shimmering air, and meets him half-way. She must be engulfed in the same throbbing heat that dances under his skin, as she has unbuttoned the top of the frilly dress she tends to wear around Skyhold. Through the loosened neck cut, he catches a glimpse of her breasts. The olive-gold is slightly paler than the weather-worn tan of her face. Soft, so soft.

He sinks to his knees in front of her, almost evening out their height difference. And at last, at long last, his lips are on hers. He closes his eyes, drinking her in, tongue against tongue, while his hands roam under unneeded cloth, stroking with a rhythm that his mind might have forgotten but his flesh remembers.

 Her dress peeled back around her waist, her skin prickling, she presses into him, prepared to drown in his kiss. Want shoots through her in demanding pulses, and she follows the call, running her fingers along the shaved bristles at the back of his head, then dancing over his collarbones, then plunging lower. A soft click, and his belt is undone, and from there, it is easy to gather the fabric of his robes and lift it out of the way.

He breaks the kiss, gasping. Triumph bubbles within her, like her head is a goblet of wine. She grinds against the bump in his breeches, teasing.

His eyes glaze over, desperate, needy. Their brown, much lighter than her own, is like a riverbed on a sunny day. She could swim in that river, she could keep him like this forever.

She bites her lower lip, and the bite seems to stir him up as much as the lick did.

Her own wickedness is elating.

 Logically, at his age, he should not become erect so easily, not without certain potions. But the whisper of "logic" in the last unclouded recesses of his brain, somewhere very, very far away, sounds like blasphemy in this world of spinning rainbows and giggling thrills. So he lets the pink smoke claim that final bastion of sanity, and moans in almost reverent gratitude when she finally decides to stop tormenting him, with her sweet lips and her excruciating ruts through cloth, and frees him from his breeches.

Then comes a soft push against his heaving chest. He takes the hint and clumsily lays himself down on the floor. It might, in another place of existence, have been cut from solid rock, but to him, now, it is like floating off on the softest cloud. Absently, he claws away at what little of his clothes that he is still wearing.

Likewise, she is rid of her dress and stays. She takes a moment to stand over him, rubbing her legs together as she looks from his chest, down along the trail of hair on his stomach, to his cock. He smiles hazily, melting into a sweet intoxication at the sight of her curves. That soft dip of her hips, the folds at the bottom of her stomach.

"Take me," he croaks.

"And you, me," she replies, straddling him.

 She has been wet since... Oh, since his hands first circled her breasts, pinching at her nipples ever so slightly. The glory of his naked form, with curls of salt and pepper hair, and the curious trails of old scars, only added to it. By the time she spots the coil of a serpent tattoo on his shoulder — a lovely match to the little dragon she got inked on her cheek — she is dripping. She is more than ready for him.

The rhythm of his thrusts leaves her breathless, her heart in her throat, her hair flying undone. She just wishes their height difference allowed her to kiss him at the same time. Just as she thinks that, his drunken eyes linger on her mouth, and somehow, in between panting and whining in a mix of effort and pleasure, he manages to move his fingers enough to cast a spell.

Now this is something she should try singing about! With a faint frizzle, raining biting little sparks, two glowing, purple-tinged copies of his hands soar into the air. With those exact long, slender nobleman's fingers. One returns to her chest, lighter and a little colder than a human hand, but still physical enough to make her gasp when a delicate finger circles her nipple. She does not get to gasp for long, though, as the second hand drifts to her mouth. Eyes fluttering shut, she gently catches the ghostly finger and begins to suck on it, all the while rocking back and forth, her hips against his.

 Through gritted teeth, comes a cry. "Fasta vass!"

Then, a gulp of air as the floating hand retreats and cups a flaming cheek.

"Ah! Je veux jouir!"

"Peto, peto te!"

"Je t'en prie!"

"Please!" "Oh please!"

"Yvie! Yvie!"

"Gereon!"

 A deep, reverberating shudder, from the core of her being to the very tip of each electrified hair on her skin.

A final burst, which bleaches the oversaturated colors around him into blinding white. A sweet release, the likes of which death and grief and disgrace almost completely erased from his memory. And finally — clarity.

 Clarity. No more giddy fog. No more happy delirium. No more fantasies unwinding into colorful glitter before her eyes.

Just a tiny but persistent ache drilling into her left temple. Just her naked body shivering in the suddenly chilly air, under the cold, unfeeling light of the laboratory's lanterns; her dress and smalls lying crumpled somewhere in the corner, her inner thighs still splattered. And in front of her, underneath her, just as naked and disoriented — her former enemy, her perhaps-friend.

His skin glistens with the same sweat that she feels roll down her back in biting, freezing little beads; and his river-brown eyes are wide... Terrified.

The last time she saw that look on his face was in the dark future, when he stared down at the hilt of her dagger coming out of his chest.

"Inquisitor," he whispers hoarsely, dragging himself back on his elbows — away, away from her, desperate to put as much distance between them as possible.

Her name is gone from his tongue again, and even though there are more... urgent things to worry about, this makes her heart sink.

"I am — I do not know what came over me," the words are as clumsy as his fingers, which search blindly for his robe, struggling to cover his exposed, almost painfully vulnerable form.

"One would blame the magic, whatever it was in that vial —"

She waddles over to the shattered glass, keeping her dress pressed tight against her breasts. Trying to swallow down the panicked realization that they have been... rolling around so close to broken glass.

As she leans down to make sense of this glinting mess — and clean some of it up — she makes out a label.

"Experimental nug breeding facilitator," she recites wearily. Making sense of Master Adan's penmanship makes the agonized vein-twitch in her temple even worse.

"Formulated at the request of Lady Nightingale. Handle with care. Effects on humanoids may be adverse."

He grimaces so hard that his face seems to cave inward. She wishes, so badly that a salty prickle begins misting over her vision, that they both could find this amusing. That they could laugh at this, as friends.

"Yes. That." He is also up on his feet now, looking drained and sore, dust splotching his back and shoulders.

"But that is no excuse, is it?" he goes on. "I... I am uncertain how... how to proceed now that this is added to my litany of wrongs. I do regret this, Inquisitor. I apologize."

Her heart ricochets off her teeth, and the salty pall in her eyes shatters into gushing tears.

"I should be the one apologizing! Your mind was not your own, and maybe mine was not either, but I took advantage of that! Because it is something that I wanted for so long! I..."

For a moment, she wonders if the damned nug fumes are still affecting her, because the words are out long before her mind registers that she is still speaking.

"I thought that I was in love with you, but if I truly did love you, I'd have practiced more restraint!"

With a barely audible plop of fabric, the lumpy ball that he has kneaded his robe into drops down to the floor. He is naked again, but there is nothing titillating about that. And nothing ridiculous — even if it is the result of him sniffing some concoction intended for nugs.

He just is.

"Oh Yvie," he says.

And just like that, she could sing again.

[tortoisesshells]

and also: top 5 video game quests!

oh, expose me as someone who's only played like. three games recently.

(1) the Last Voyage of the USS Constitution in f.o4: Captain Ironsides, my most beloved of NPCs! actual skill checks in this bastard child of a game? a moral dilemma which, in all honesty, could be more played out, but unfortunately for the human NPCs trying to scrap old Ironsides (and Captain Ironsides), even in a less wacky apocalypse, I'd probably side against someone scrapping an old ship for parts. They've got all of Boston to turn over for screws and moonshot rockets. Leave my girl alone.

(2) Here Lies the Abyss in d.a:i: there's a very cinematic siege! reversals of fortune, desperation, moral decay. Getting thrown into the Fade and being forced to not only confront your worst fears, but making a fairly sadistic choice? You can finish this quest, but it certainly doesn't feel like you've won anything.

(3) I Forgot to Remember to Forget in f.nv: do you like it when a companion character who's done unforgivable things and called it destiny because otherwise they'd have to admit they chose to pull the trigger decides to make a stab (or a shot. or several shots.) at atonement because just trying to die hasn't done anything for a guilty conscience so far? great! enjoy trying to be human again, Boone.

(4) In Hushed Whispers in d:a.i: I'm easy for bad futures, time travel, and inevitable bad endings. Making the player character watch your party die for good and there's nothing you can do about it, except fight it out to the end and hope that you'll be able to prevent it in the past? man. Alexius is a bastard, but I do love antagonists who do unspeakably bad things out of love.

(5) Long Time Coming in f.o4: yeah, it's another fetch quest that ends in a shootout, but it's the drama and character bits that sell me on it. "They're not really my memories, I know that." this and "Christ, look at you. You're not even alive." that and "Then I discover, all those things, they weren't even mine." that and and AND. man.

[lyssentome]

15 tags, 15 mutuals

Tagged by @eli-writes-sometimes , thank you!

tagging: @isabellebissonrouthier @toribookworm22 @notalazysod @reysfictionalworlds @harinawa @promptinator-writes @moonandris @ryns-ramblings and open tag (I know this isn't 15 but shhh)

Doing this for Alexius from Heirs of Starlight because I do not talk about him enough and Arden has been getting too much attention, as much as I love him.

1. Are you named after anyone?

I was named after my mother's best friend. I remember him as the honorary uncle, and a much more fun one than my actual relatives.

2. When was the last time you cried?

My mother's death anniversary. I've gotten to a point where I don't cry as much about it anymore, but I was feeling particularly emotional this year for some reason.

3. Do you have kids?

No. Maybe one day.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Sometimes, especially when I'm annoyed. Compared to Arden and Valeria I'm as genuine as they come though.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their eyes and the shade of their aura. I don't intentionally seek out how dark or light someone's aura is when meeting them, but it happens involuntarily, so that is something I notice.

6. What's your eye color?

Dark gray. They look black in darker lighting, which is convenient when I don't want to be recognized in public.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Definitely happy endings. I like scary movies, but I'm inclined to indulge in happy endings more. The world has so little happy endings, I think we deserve some happy endings even if they're fictional.

8. Any special talents?

I'm not sure... I'm a retrocognitive, if that counts. Personally I would count that as a curse rather than a special talent. It's not always pleasant to be able to see into other people's memories exactly as how they remember it, especially when it happens involuntarily.

9. Where were you born?

Contrary to popular belief, I wasn't born in Kayore like most Terician royalty. I was instead born in the coastal city where most of my mother's side of the family resides, Laucean.

10. What are your hobbies?

I like being around nature, usually in the form of hiking or simply observing things in the palace gardens. I also like reading and playing the flute.

11. Have you any pets?

Sort of? I have an animal I've bonded with, but I wouldn't call him a pet because I'm not keeping him, he just shows up when he wants to. It's a black dog, but I'm not sure what he actually is. I know he's not just a regular stray dog though. I think he might be a hellhound or something similar.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

Apart from mandatory physical training, I haven't done much sports except for hiking and swimming. I don't think those count due to those being mostly recreational to me.

13. How tall are you?

(Completely disregarding that centimeters and feet would not be used here ofc)

I'm 188 cm tall, or around 6'2.

14. Favorite subject in school?

I really enjoyed ethics and natural sciences.

15. Dream job?

In another life I would like to work with animals and/or something nature-related.

[varricscrossbowbianca]

In Hushed Whispers oneshot

I thought I could write a little oneshot about what happened when Dorian and the Herald of Andraste got send into the future, since there isn’t really much of a reaction from the Herald (in my opinion). The dark future there is so awful, it was weird that there was barely any reaction to it. I haven’t written anything in...forever so excuse my clumsy writing. Just did this for fun heh. (story is under the cut). My inky here is Maeve Lavellan, a dalish and a mage.

Dorian and Maeve Lavellan suddenly found themselves in a dark room with water up to their knees. Crates and furniture were slowly moving around. ,,Where are we?`‘, asked Maeve, looking around, trying to find a source of light. Dorian lit up an old torch high up on the wall. „This is Redcliffe castle. We haven’t left. However…‘‘, Dorian started, also looking around the room. In one of the corners of the room he saw red crystals coming through the wall. „...I don’t remember red lyrium being here. We’re not in the present, that’s for sure.‘‘, he continued. Maeve also saw the red lyrium now and started to get concerned. She heard about it from Varric and what happened in Kirkwall. It’s almost like the red lyrium was singing some kind of song, as if it called to them. Dorian noticed Maeve staring at the lyrium and warned her „Don’t get too close. This stuff is highly dangerous.‘‘ Maeve nodded in understanding. „So what now?‘‘, she asked him. If they weren’t in the present then either they were sometime in the past or the future. Would it make sense to be in the past? Dorian said there was no red lyrium here before, so possibly it was...the future? „Well, I’d say we’re going to explore how much has changed. This is so exciting, time travel. Alexius really did it.‘‘, Dorian said a little bit too excited for Maeve’s taste. She was terrified. She had never heard of time travel or the possibility of it. And yet they actually traveled in time. Dorian noticed Maeve’s fear and took her by the hand. „I am here Maeve, we’ll figure this out together.‘‘ And so they carefully went out the door in front of them, making sure no surprises were waiting for them on the other side. When they opened the door, the water from the room they were just in, flowed out, into the small hall they just entered. It was a bit brighter than in the last room but the overall atmosphere was unsettling since the castle itself seemed to be quiet except for the red lyrium singing its song. Big and broken stairs let up to more rooms and Dorian and Maeve decided to move into that direction since the doors to their left seemed to be blocked by the amounts of red lyrium and fallen rocks. It was as if the castle was barely holding itself together and the lyrium took over. „If we are here, then where are Cassandra, Varric and the others who came with us? Did they also travel in time like we did?‘‘, Maeve asked, not being able to hide her worry in her voice. Dorian thought for a moment before replying „They might’ve...but there is also the possibility that they went through whatever happened while we got send right into the future.‘‘ That didn’t make Maeve feel any better. If anything, by the looks of the castle she was even more worried now about her friends. They kept moving and opened a door to  a room which seemed to be full of prison cells. Even here the red lyrium came from every direction through the walls, giving off a high-pitched noise. „Who is there?“, a voice said, coming from one of the cells. Maeve was startled by the sudden voice and Dorian motioned her to look where it came from. It sounded familiar but at the same time the voice sounded distorted, corrupted even. When they found who the voice belonged to they were shocked. Cassandra Pentaghast was sitting in her cell, cowering almost. She was whispering some prayer to herself while rocking herself forward and backwards. „Cassandra...is that you?‘, Maeve asked carefully. She had never seen Cassandra like this, she couldn’t even believe to see Cassandra in such a vulnerable state. Her friend was always so confident, strong and full of hope. What happened to her? Cassandra finally seemed to notice them and slowly stood up. As she faced them, Maeve had an idea of what has happened. Her friend’s eyes were sickly red and even her skin seemed to be full of small red crystals. Red lyrium. Cassandra’s face had sunken in and her eyes looked so tired, as if she hadn’t slept for ages. Her muscles seemed to be gone completely, she was almost a shadow of herself. Dorian looked from Cassandra to Maeve. He could see that Maeve had slowly started crying and she couldn’t move or look away. „It is me. And you two? Are you real? Is it really you?“, Cassandra finally answered, her voice sounding partly distorted. Maeve nodded. Dorian worked on the prison door and was quickly able to open it, Cassandra slowly moving out of it, still being partially on guard. „Where were you? One moment we were all standing in the hall and then you two just...disappeared.‘‘, Cassandra continued saying. „We traveled through time. Whatever Alexius had planned, it seemed like it didn’t go exactly the way he wanted. I take it, while we just got here, you went through...can you tell us what happened? And how far we are in the future?‘‘, Dorian replied. Cassandra thought for a moment, her sadness reflecting onto her expression. She looked at Maeve and said „You were gone. Without you, we couldn’t seal any of the rifts, more and more demons came through. There were wars after wars until nothing was left. Alexius put us all into these cells, waiting for us to rot down here. I’m not sure how it started but red lyrium started to grow in the castle and it started to take over everything...even us. All of this...in just a matter of a year. Without your powers, Maeve, we were helpless. Alexius is too powerful. We- we lost good people. I am sorry you even have to see me in this state‘‘, Cassandra said. Maeve already hated this future. She realized how much of their success depended on her, on her...mark. She never liked the role she played in all of this, of having this much responsibility. And to hear that her friends have suffered so greatly while she was gone made her even more heartbroken. „Do you know who else is here in the castle?‘‘, Dorian asked Cassandra, breaking the brief silence. He hasn’t known Maeve for that long, however he could tell that she had a sensitive spirit, easy to startle and to panic. „I think Varric and Blackwall are here somewhere as well...I know they captured Leliana, Josephine and Cullen as well but I can’t say if our advisors if- if...I don’t know where they could be.‘‘, Cassandra answered, her voice almost failing her. Hearing this, Maeve started crying, trying to keep it silent, a lump in her throat building, since she didn’t want the others to know how much this already upset her. All of these people were so courageous and clever. How could something terrible have happened to them? What did happen to her advisors? Maeve wasn’t sure if she actually wanted the answer to that question. Dorian looked over to Maeve and tried to comfort her „We will find Alexius and find a way to get back to where we were before. I promise you that, Maeve. We will find the others and we will make this right.‘‘, he squeezed her hand gently, letting her know he won’t leave her. Cassandra also tried to give some reassuring words to Maeve „Now that you are here, we might have a chance to put an end to this. Alexius will have to pay for what he’s done. I will make sure of that myself.‘‘ Maeve’s tears still fell for she knew how challenging this future will be for her. However, she also felt grateful that she had such amazing people by her side. Maybe they were able to be strong for each other. Together they ventured on, exploring the castle and hoping they could find their friends and put an end to this terrifying future.

[fatetcrn]

Gereon Alexius things: ( a.k.a: the long incoherent ramblings about Felix’s father I found gathering dust in the drafts of my old blog )

- Gereon Alexius was the son of the head of the House of Alexius of Asariel, a wealthy coastal port city roughly a two days ride from Minrathous. He is from a long and distinguished line of extraordinarily talented mages who had a fair amount of political influence across Tevinter. However. there were more than a few in his ancestry who had a history of delving into the darker more forbidden magic arts. Including his own father.

-  Was Alexius a good man? At one stage, yes. Very much so. In many respects, Felix inherited his father's moral compass and incorruptible decency. It was this decency that Dorian admired He was a man Dorian would compare to all others, an impossible benchmark to be measured against. That is until Alexius lost his wife and in many respects his only son. Grief changed him. He became relentless and desperate in his search for a cure and this lead him to eventually get involved with the Venatori.

- Alexius valued the pursuit and sharing of knowledge over personal power and gain and was a loving husband and father. Alexius Snr., in contrast, was arrogant, merciless, cold, calculating and highly ambitious at the cost of all else that stood in his way. ( I mean you had to be a REAL ASSHOLE to want to kill your own grandson ) He hoped that giving Alexius his seat on the Magisterium would inspire some political ambition. It did not. Everything Alexius did was to try and improve the Circles and provide quality higher education for the Soporati. He was a vocal advocate for more funding for Circles , in particular towards learning and research, rather than throwing coin at the war against the Qun. Aside from that, he pushed the boundaries of known magic on a daily basis focusing on the manipulation and control of time.

- Unconventional and eccentric, Alexius not particularly concerned about society's expectations. He married for love instead of status and politics ( and possibly wasn’t even planning on getting married, to begin with. ) Livia became his raison d’etre / his muse / the absolute love of his life. They were an intellectual power couple, greatly respected across Tevinter. He studies temporal magic and Livia would study the effects this had on the Veil. The Veil being her area of expertise.

- Alexius was so proud of his son who had inherited his intelligence and curiosity. The extravagant amount of tutors were not only to compensate for the lack of magical talent but to satisfy the boy's insatiable desire to learn. Felix excelled in everything that he set out to accomplish except for the one thing that mattered Magic to Felix is like that one subject an otherwise straight A student gets a C- in. ). However, for a long time, Alexius continued to push Felix to develop his magical talents even though it put a great deal of psychological and physical strain on the young boy who desperately didn't want to disappoint his father. Felix’s grandfather hinted numerous times that Alexius should consider alternatives ( wooo blood magic ) or, in failing that, to dispose of the family embarrassment altogether ( though not in such direct terms ). He believed that the Alexius line would end in embarrassment and Mathematics. Arguments that surrounded this often involved him calling Felix a Soporati along with various insults. Often within earshot. The attempted assassinations only began when it was known that Felix would be going to go study in Orlais of all places ( an insult added to injury ) and would be inheriting his father’s seat on the Magisterium.

- Alexius had encountered many exceptional young mages ( and there were many clamoring for his apprenticeship ) but none of them had impressed him nearly half as much as the one conversation he had with a drunken Dorian in a house of ill repute. He saw smothered potential, a blazing intellect and a young mage who would one day greatly surpass him. Alexius never took on any other apprentices before or after and grew to love Dorian as if he were his own.

- Alexius and Halward were in tentative communication during Dorian’s apprenticeship. Correspondence was vague and centered around Dorian’s well being and his progress and successes which were many. Alexius was not very forthcoming on any details, especially those concerning Dorian’s personal life. Halward was simply trying to keep tabs on his son and Alexius felt it enough that he knew Dorian was doing well and that he should be proud.

[whispering-depths]

so I've been playing DA:I and was grinding in the Hinterlands for HOURS doing all the fetch quests and shard collecting quests, fighting SO many bears, closed almost all the rifts except maybe two, and I was starting to get a little bored, like when does the next story beat happen? I couldn't figure out the next steps after meeting Alexius in Radcliffe Village, and only after I hit *level 10* did I see it on the war room map with a little "recommended levels: 4-7" on the choosing sides mage/templar quests. oops

[archivestarlyht]

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently? - fox & alexius

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List

fox   :   yes.

fox finds siding with the goblins to be distasteful,  but ultimately he is a self-interested creature.  he knows that he can't get the parasite out of his head without the rest of the party,   and at worst if he tries to leave he'll end up like the other infected with the absolute in his head and moments from becoming a mind flayer.   he won't like you,  but he'll fight for you because he doesn't see any other way of saving himself.   will lament later on that it's a terrible day,   when a bastard like him agrees with someone as righteous as wyll.

alexius   :   yes.

he does not know where else to go.   he doesn't know what else to do,  except stay with you.   that said,   he would not help you.   he would tell you he wants no part of the fight and goes to camp.  would be furious if you say you're going to betray minthara,  he joins you for the fight,  and you end up siding with the goblins.  will probably try to misty step out of the fight.  he doesn't leave,  he'll help you with other things because he feels as though he owes you a debt for taking him in,  but also makes it clear from that point on that you're not friends. considering he was raised in the feywild, he takes debts and his word very seriously. he just won't help you in the fight, and will resent you for what you did.