#faelyn answers

[faelynfawn]

Hi I just saw the circus au art and I'm here to ask about him.

Feel free to go on a ramble I need everything you got :3

Oh my gods thank you so much for asking I have so much to say. (Also, by the way, I love your art so so much. If you have ever noticed me spam reblog a bunch of your art, it was most likely because I was on a call with my friends and showing it to them.)

So, the first and most important thing to establish, is that all versions of Scar I rotate around in my brain are disabled. Specifically in regards to circus headcanon or AUs, he has all of my disabilities. As I am a disabled circus artist and I know exactly how it would work.

So, Scar had always loved the circus ever since he was a little kid. It was just so magical and wonderous to him. He always sort of wished he could join the circus.

Then one day, around about 15, he realised there was a circus studio really close-by to him. Three, in fact. It blew his mind. Previously he sort of regarded circus as this mystical, out of reach thing. He had no idea it was just something he could learn and do.

For me, this is sort of where it splits into two separate veins of timelines. A) One in a Minecraft-inspired fantasy setting that has a casual interdimensional travel aspect to it (the one LMLY is set in, essentially) and consists of things like codes. And B) a modern AU of a Minecraft-inspired fantasy setting with no interdimensional travel (so no Hermitcraft or Life Series). It is a more normal fantasy world and does not consist of codes or players, it is people within it if that makes sense. We will call this A and B.

In A, he was a builder already. That was what he loved doing. As a result, he decided it would be better for his career if did not show that he was disabled. If you have read LMLY, you will understand.

Anyway, because of being a builder, he was already incredibly strong. His favourite part of circus at the beginning was being a base in acrobalance. It took him a while to get the right kind of strength for aerials, but once he did he quickly started to train doubles work.

The thing is, he knew that all of the things he was initially drawn to in circus just were not realistic for him to do. His first love in circus was flying trapeze, but he knew any sort of flips would just make him pass out. But in order for flying trapeze to work, you need a catcher.

He worked his butt off to be a catcher.

Most of the circus he ever did was group work, with him fulling the role of the base/catcher. He did not have the ability to do much else, it would just trigger his symptoms.

When he got to Hermitcraft he found himself a lot more symptomatic than ever before, even after he learnt how to accommodate himself better. It meant that his ability to go back to his home world and do circus was quite limited, almost entirely stopping after season 6.

I am jumping ahead quite a bit as otherwise it would reflect the planned plot for LMLY a bit too much, but during season 9 when he built Scarland he also began doing a lot more circus again. He was using mobility aids by that point and finally had enough energy to do it.

Which brings us to timeline B.

In timeline B, Scar's career goals involved being an imagineer. As a result, he handled being disabled a lot differently.

He always considered himself unfit as a child. He hated sports with a burning passion. He was also the sick kid, always. He was rarely ever at school, he struggled to make friends because he was never able to hang out, and any extracurriculars he signed up for he almost always ended up flaking out on.

Him realising he was disabled went quite similarly to timeline A. During his mid-teens, he realised he was actually Experiencing Something and not just lazy/unmotivated/all the things he had been told his whole life. Unlike timeline A, his plans for his life were not exactly something he felt as though he could not do as a mobility aid user.

It radically changed his life when he became a wheelchair user. For the first time, he was actually able to function and exist and it was the best thing ever. He had the energy to truly dedicate himself to his plans of becoming an imagineer.

The thing about circus is it appears in all sorts of places. In particular, amusement parks. At least in Australia where I live, which is the country this setting is most like anyway. Like in timeline A, Scar had always loved it as a kid. Especially when amusement parks he visited had circus performers during special festivals and things like that, it was just the coolest.

Scar had a problem with living a very sedentary lifestyle. It was not great before he got a wheelchair, due to him being bedridden often (not that he realised that was what it was at the time), but even worse afterwards. So his physio encouraged him to pursue a physical hobby.

Which is where he discovered that he had three circus studios near-by.

As much as he loved the circus, but did not exactly consider it a possibility. It was in the same category to him as like being a Jedi or something, actually being a circus performer just was not really real to him.

Calling him was excited was an understatement, to say the least.

Unlike timeline A, it was not a smooth journey. He was not really all that strong. He loved it all the same, but for the first year and a half of him doing circus, his progress was pretty stagnant.

Until he got on testosterone.

Did I forget to mention he is transgender? He is always transgender to me. (In timeline A he got his player code altered for the record. But he is the sort of genderfuck man where he thought his tits made him hot (because they do) and preferred a t-dick over a penis. Just in case people wanted to know.)

Anyway, one of the changes he was most looking forward to was the increase in strength. He was quite disappointed when after quite a few months he did not actually get that much stronger. He did get more muscles, but they did not really seem to work.

Then, suddenly, like 8 months in, well after he had given up hope, he suddenly was just a lot stronger.

It motivated him enough to really dedicate himself to his training.

In this timeline, he really did not like basing. He felt as though his body was just too unreliable to let himself trust others' wellbeing with it. He would, sometimes, just because he was a big boy (I maintain my headcanon that he is short, however. Vex hybrid.) but he never really liked it.

He really only did the things that he truly found passion in, as he had a limited amount of energy for his training.

I want to say that Scar still is an ambulatory wheelchair user after beginning to do circus. He uses his wheelchair so he has enough energy to do circus. For a while he felt really awkward about it, he did not want people from circus to know that he used a wheelchair and he did not want anyone who knew he used a wheelchair to know he did circus. But as he grew up a bit more, became an adult, he really stopped caring what others thought of him.

I suppose I should say my headcanons for what apparatuses he uses. I headcanon that he uses (static) trapeze, lyra mostly as his aerial apparatuses, although teardrop (also called hammock) has a special place in his heart. As for ground work, hula hooping and leviwand.

I am going to inform you of his journey in discovering these passions.

Right when he first began his training, he was really interested in drops. It drew him to silks, initially, but he just was not strong enough for it at the time.

He found himself then drawn to apparatuses like trapeze and lyra instead, as even with his limited strength at the time he still could do some tricks. He actually avoided verticals (silks and teardrop) for a long time, as they were just too strengthy for his tastes.

Especially with lyra, everything always looked so beautiful on lyra. It is the worst and most painful apparatus in the entire world (author bias, I hate lyra) but he was used to pain. Besides, everything in circus hurt. That was just how circus was. Even if lyra was a bit more painful than others. (It is the worst I hate it I hate it so much owie owie owie :[ <- does lyra for fun sometimes (Although I would never ever train it I am not crazy.))

Scar tried teardrop at one point and was beyond shocked at how little it hurt. He did not know an aerial apparatus could feel so gentle! (He thought this until he started trying wraps, and discovered the pinching was its own special kind of hell.)

He was excited, because with teardrop he could do drops like he had always wanted to. He trained up for it. Then, when his trainer deemed him strong enough, he tried his first ever drop. It was sort of like this, I am imagining, although I cannot find a video of what I actually mean. The point is he flipped over himself like that.

He discovered that his body just could not do it.

He was so dizzy after it it was a wonder he did not pass out while still up there.

He was absolutely crushed and heart broken, as that was the one thing he had always been so excited for. He figured he should have seen it coming, as he did not do tumbling for that exact reason, but he really had not.

Since he was not able to do the tricks he actually wanted to on verticals, he decided he was not going to do them. He did not for the longest time. (Although, eventually he began doing silks and teardrop every so often for the fun of it. He ended up really liking teardrop. While he never dedicated himself to training it enough that he felt he could perform it, he still just loved it.)

I will say that was a lot of what his initial bit into circus was. Discovering things he really wanted to do were just not things his body could handle. He really had to let go of a lot of things he wanted to do, and instead focus on what he could actually do. He found he really could not do all the dynamic tricks he really, really admired in others, but he found his own soft and gentle performing style that really worked for him.

It was difficult, but he grew to really like it in the end. It was very queer to him, being a man who performed in such elegant and graceful ways. So gender as well. It was not actually until he saw a man do a particularly beautiful straps performance (from which he wanted to do straps, but knew he never could) that he began to really appreciate his own circus style.

At least that is how it went with aerials.

Scar found he could do very little ground work. Hand balancing was what he was initially drawn to, but he quickly found that his wrists would dislocate every single time he tried. Same with acrobalance (In timeline A, he had enough muscles built up from being a builder he did not really run into that issue.) and tumbling. Tumbling also involved flipping and he just could not do it, his POTS would not allow him.

The groundwork he could do was primarily manipulation. He tried all sorts of different things. It actually took quite a while before he progressed in any of it, because he was splitting himself across too much.

Eventually, he picked hula hooping as his primary ground work. He loved it so much. It was just so much fun to him. He thought it was so cool to take this object most people were familiar with from their childhoods and do amazing tricks with it. Especially when he began performing it (which, I will get to in a minute) he felt as though it let the kids in the audience see something relatable amongst all the cool and crazy, and he hoped it inspired them to do some circus themselves.

Leviwand was his other favourite. (I actually just remembered I have one and I should probably train it more, as I can do that on my favourite ground work apparatus rolla bolla. Anyway.) He just thought it was the coolest thing. It looked like magic. It was just remarkable and so cool and literally just physics.

(Bonus: In versions of this where Scar did, in fact, have magic, he would absolutely do circus with it. I might talk about that another time.)

Now I wish to state a bit of his circus journey, in regards to it being a job. He did not ever intend for it to be, for a long time. He had about two months when he first started that he kind of wanted to turn it into one, but it was just a hobby really. It wasn't until he was in his early 20s (in university doing double architecture and engineering bachelors) he realised he could actually apply to do circus at an amusement park's seasonal event. He did. He got in. He got to perform and get paid for it.

He essentially stumbled his way into paid work. It was not long after that he was offered a position as a trainer at his circus studio (which, he had been living on the disability pension up until that point due to not being able to find a job that he could physically do).

Then he found himself putting his university course on pause for six months so he could tour with a big top circus.

I truly believe it was the most fun he ever had, but he realised he could not actually have that as a viable career option. He was not medically fit to drive, his body could not handle having to set up the tent and clean and all that maintenance stuff, and he really did not make that much money. Enough to survive, sure, if being disabled was not so expensive and if he did not already have student debt.

So he finished up his university course while working part-time as a circus trainer. Once he graduated, for a while he took up a more standard engineering job. Then he found his niche in applying his degrees to circus stuff, and actually ended up working for Cirque Du Soleil creating their insane sets.

While he was never a Cirque Du Soleil performer himself (Do you have any idea how insane their intake process is? He would not be qualified for it even if he somehow managed to pass the health checks. Not to mention, you audition for a chance to be contacted to be in a show. No way.) he was so, so excited that he got to make such amazing things happen.

He still was a casual performer, usually taking up gigs that just happened to come his way, or doing performances with circus studios he was with.

But it was remarkable to him how he got to combine his first love of being an imagineer with his second love of circus into such a beautiful thing. He could not get over it, he just loved what he did.

When it came to being a performer himself, he definitely used his architecture and engineering degrees for his own personal passion projects too. He always had some new idea for a new cool show, and found himself the head of many remarkable contemporary circus performances.

In particular, he had this whole superhero based play/musical/circus performance with drama and conflict and betrayal. It all began when started to consider how he could put his love for archery into a show and his friend misheard him saying, "Like Hawkeye," as "Like Hotguy." Then he joked about having his best friend (or lover, up to you) play the role of Hawkeye's rival-turned-lover Cuteguy, and the rest was history.

(I also have some circus Grian headcanons. As in, I think Scar dragged everyone he ever knew into circus. It did not stick for all of them, but Grian realised that since he was an Avian he could just do fun flying tricks and it was considered circus. He liked that. What made him love it was doing it with Scar, the way Scar would come up with a million crazy ideas and make brilliant performances. Scar's love for it really rubbed off on him, and he found himself doing the same.)

Anyway. The Hotguy play/musical/circus performance was Scar's baby. It was so fun and silly and camp, while also having these serious moments that really hurt you.

It actually got quite big, and he got to tour it.

Anyway.

I have run out of thoughts.

I just love circus and I love Scar.

[faerielandtrolls]

What is the weirdest job Faelyn would be willing to do?

#øw døes øne (1) defIne "weIrd?" I #ave wørked as a bøøk bInder, a #orse breaker, and a screen prInter In the past, t#ese are jøbs t#at are generallii nøt t#e fIrst ønes peøple t#Ink øf, but t#ey are døne everii daii

[a-gay-bloodmage]

An ABGInk 2024 Fanfiction Announcement!

Hello, folks! I’d like to announce that, yes, I’m going to be doing Inktober again! After five long years! I’m using the official Inktober prompt list, which I had been hesitant about, but I think I’ve got a solid bunch of pieces planned and a bunch already finished. Throughout the month, I’ll have works from all three Dragon Age games, and works on a wide array of my Wardens and Inquisitors. 

Beneath the Read More, I’ve attached a list of the prompts and a small summary of what the fic is going to be about. I would love it if you gave it a read to see if anything sounds interesting! My goal is to get everything posted to Archive of Our Own on their assigned days with a tumblr post that links to the AO3 version. I’ll probably also be reblogging things the next morning in case anyone missed it the evening before! I really hope that you all enjoy my work. Likes and comments and reblogs mean the world to me! 

Here are some links to a post about my Wardens and my Inquisitors! 

Day 1: Backpack 

At the start of her journey with Alistair and Morrigan, Gemma Brosca is forced to learn how big things like backpacks are in the human world. It is unfair. And adorable. 

Day 2: Discover

Still reeling from the events of her botched wedding, Faelyn Tabris discovers what the world beyond the Alienage is like. 

Day 3: Boots 

Zevran doesn’t understand how Redren is so content to live his life barefoot. Redren doesn’t understand why Zevran really wants a pair of Antivan leather boots. 

Day 4: Exotic 

The mage-Warden, Redren, is a strange, foreign breed. Zevran can’t get a good read on him. He hopes things about the pale, exotic Warden will make sense in time. 

Day 5: Binoculars 

Cassandra doesn’t understand the strange, foreign words that Ozol Adaar and the Iron Bull use. The Inquisitor is supposed to be the Herald of Andraste, and all this Qunlat and Qunari technology like “binoculars” should be unacceptable. 

Day 6: Trek 

The Iron Bull is surprised at how capable the soft-stomached Inquisitor, Ademamar Cadash, is at going on long hikes. Ade does his best to explain his childhood of the treks from home to home without giving away too much about the reality of the casteless. 

Day 7: Passport 

On their way to Kirkwall, Anders and Justice try to comprehend what it means to be leaving Amaranthine with the Commander’s blessing and a forged passport. Homesickness is a new and uncomfortable feeling. 

Day 8: Hike 

Andrea Cousland is the Arl’s daughter. She’s not supposed to be hiking around the muddy Ferelden countryside like a common soldier. On their way to Orzammar, Alistair asks one too many questions. 

Day 9: Sun 

Duncan has saved Gemma Brosca from a death sentence, and is escorting her to the surface. He may have forgotten to warn the poor girl about the sun. 

Day 10: Nomadic 

Of course the Vint would have some stupid questions about the difference between Skyhold and the nomadic lifestyle the Dalish lead. Aelon Lavellan does his best to answer him while also trying to focus on helping Blackwall ready the stables. 

Day 11: Snacks 

Justice does not approve of how Anders is neglecting the nutritional requirements of their shared body. The Commander and Alistair always told the Wardens that they needed three square meals and snacks every day. He needs this to be fixed. 

Day 12: Remote 

As Orest Mahariel and Morrigan look for the best place for her to give birth, they talk about how they’re going to raise their baby. Even if the child will look human, Orest doesn’t want to deny the child a chance to grow up with a connection to elven culture. 

Day 13: Horizon 

At Ostagar, Hundir Aeducan finally gets a moment to stop and stare at the horizon. The Surface is seemingly an infinite sprawl of greenery. It’s a struggle not to be amazed. 

Day 14: Roam 

Alistair really wants to get to know his fellow Warden. Redren wishes to remain a mystery. After a bit of pestering, Alistair gets the mage to talk about his life roaming the Wilds after escaping from the Circle. 

Day 15: Guidebook 

Kiora Trevelyan is, on the surface, a very by-the-book Circle mage. After the rebellion, however, she struggles to adjust. Trying to lead the Inquisition without a guidebook is a struggle, and Sera isn’t exactly the most sympathetic friend. 

Day 16: Grungy 

Before they leave Lothering, Leliana insists that Gemma Brosca take advantage of the modest baths in the Chantry. She learns, quickly, that the grungy little girl has never had the privilege of taking a proper bath before. 

Day 17: Journal 

While in the Brecilian forest, the party stumbles upon a small, abandoned camp. Redren recognizes it as one of his own, and has to scramble to hide the journal that was left behind when he was made into a Warden. 

Day 18: Drive 

After returning to Orzammar, crowning his brother, and being spat back out, Hundir Aeducan is driven to the brink of madness. And cutting off his beard. 

Day 19: Ridge 

Still relatively new to the group, Zevran accepts Redren’s offer to join him in his tent. For just a plain massage. Zevran uses his time to study the ridges of the mage’s pale, thin form and wonder at what’s below the surface. 

Day 20: Uncharted 

Still reeling from their joining, Anders and Justice try to navigate the uncharted waters of being two people in one body. There's no going back. But is there even a desire to?

Day 21: Bronto 

Gemma Brosca grew up in Dust Town. As a result, her vocabulary is a little different from a Surfacer’s. To distract Alistair from his woes over Eamon’s illness, Gemma teaches him some dwarven slang. 

Day 22: Camp 

Sticking to his plan to keep dressing like a woman after being caught in the Conclave in his feminine attire sounded like a great idea at the time. Now, stuck out in a camp in the middle of the woods, Mallory Trevelyan is realizing just how tough it’s going to be. 

Day 23: Rust 

Joining the Wardens was a no-brainer for Gemma Brosca. Her life was one massive perk, and so was getting her first set of weapons that didn’t have any rust on them. 

Day 24: Expedition 

Most of his life, Hundir Aeducan wasn’t afraid of the dark. He was a dwarf, after all. But now, forced to go on an expedition into the Deep Roads to find a probably-dead Paragon, he’s forced to confront the fact that he’s not as put-together as he pretends to be. 

Day 25: Scarecrow 

There are rabbits getting into the small garden in the Skyhold courtyard. This is unacceptable. Thom Rainier, still living under the alias of the Warden Blackwall, watches as the Inquisitor, Aelon Lavellan, rigs up a scarecrow full of gears and runes. 

Day 26: Painting 

Mallory Trevelyan gets his official portrait painted as the Inquisitor Mallie. While the painting is undeniably beautiful, it doesn’t look like him. He reflects back on an old portrait probably hanging in a dark corner of Trevelyan castle, and wonders if he’ll ever see his real self on the canvas. 

Day 27: Road 

When the Anchor acts up in the Inquisitor’s sleep, Thom Rainier is pulled into one of Mallory Trevelyan’s dreams. He encounters a man he hardly recognizes in a tavern in Markham, on the road away from Ostwick and toward anywhere else. 

Day 28: Jumbo 

Ozol Adaar had gotten used to a select few things in the human settlement of Hercinia after fleeing the Qun. Now, stuck in Haven, he’s dealing with what it means for a jumbo-sized Inquisitor to come, quite literally, face to face with human doorways. 

Day 29: Navigator 

Aelon Lavellan is a Dalish elf, yes, but that doesn’t mean that he’s a natural-born navigator. When he and a group of non-elves get lost in the woods on an outing, he’s forced to clarify some unfortunate assumptions. 

Day 30: Viol 

When Maryden the tavern bard brings in another bard to play when she’s on break, Mallory Trevelyan is delighted to see that the man plays the viol. Iron Bull watches on as the Inquisitor Mallie draws upon some old lessons from her childhood she’s loathe to elaborate on. 

Day 31: Landmark 

Back in the Brecilian forest, Orest Mahariel tells his new friends about the places he remembers from his childhood. Some landmarks bring back good memories, some bad, and yet they all seem to be tainted by a sadness he can’t bring himself to speak about.

[araksi-art]

i am finally making a pinned post !

lil intro

hello!! i am araksi413, i use they/it pronouns with no preference, and i have a whole bunch of names (nyel, aryn, traffic..) but im also happy with araksi or nicknames :]

this is my art account and. i am bad at posting. i have so so many drafts help

i draw mostly my ocs, furries, and some fanart here and there

i have a taglist! if you wanna be added, send me an ask and ill do so happily :D

list of all my ocs & tag directory under cut!

a list of all my ocs:

first, here's a post with my doodles of all of them !

and here's the list:

world 1:

normal guys:

eva

mattias

sun

sarah (and elise)

special guys:

anna (and her brother)

zara

deer

emobear

charles

[no name entered]

araksi lamodre

daphne

special twelve:

cari'sam

roben (and the cliffbloods)

menir (and fuor)

bon de ciel

illumm elderspark

kamari

man uu, servant of ohbahma

al'ixia-mariunak

em

faelyn anastasia boldur

camm dan (and mae who belongs to @bro-strider-tgirl-tits <3)

ezry

other:

láng

rikuki

lú

fleur céléne

un

tag directory

making this mostly so i dont get lost in my own tags hehe :3

described <- anything tagged with this has image descriptions in alt text!

oc art: name <- art of the specific oc (e.g oc art: charles)

oc art <- all oc art

non-oc art <- art of other characters!

other art <- everything else, like landscapes, paintings..

art of araksi <- all of my art!

art for friends <- all art made for my mutuals/friends :3 or as a request!

asks and answers <- ask tag <3

taglist reblog <3 <- well, self explanatory, my tag for the taglist reblog i do for every art piece (when i remember)

[dyrewrites]

Come, My Pretty pt5 (slippery when wet)

The witch, if it were the witch etched there in the stone, tantalized. Her own features, so prevalent in the bawdy art she could smuggle into her room, were boring to Faelyn’s eyes. But the figure before her, cut with loving hands into the glittering black wall, held them as tight as the figure held its thick lip in its teeth.

Tracing the tails of puffed hair that framed the witch’s round face, Faelyn groaned at the bangs–the witch’s eyes were hidden–before she set her gaze downward. Her breasts were slight, peaked and delightfully rounded beneath the slip of robe that draped them. The slit at that robe’s side stole Faelyn’s attention then. The witch’s hips shone there and, wider than her waist but without the taper of ages spent in a corset, they demanded her gaze. And there were folds in the witch’s stomach–something Faelyn was barred from gaining, punished should she show a wrinkle–and though they were slight they sung of softness.

Faelyn bit her own lip, imagining it were one of those folds.

If this be my captor, she thought, careful to keep her desire quiet lest the witch be listening, perhaps I should take my time with her dungeon. Surely she would come herself if all her beasts failed to subdue me…?

In the silence of the hall, all that answered her unspoken question were the popping torches set into the walls. They burned so brightly violet, staining the stone in grim purples, their flicker all that warned of the danger. A flicker Faelyn did not see, her eyes too focused on the figure in the stone, mind yearning to know the feel of its skin, the taste. She did not hear the thump, nor the squelching pop as what lurked behind her neared.

Not until its wet tendrils wrapped her wrists did she react, and by then her scream could not be heard–muffled as it was by greater tendrils tightening around her face.

Faelyn jerked in the slimy grip of the thing that held her but her efforts only eased her deeper into the goo of its shapeless body. That goo prickled her skin, burning as it slowly swallowed her and its tendrils wrapped tighter, too solid for the body that bore them. They forced her to turn and the goo dripped hotter, eating away the silks of her robe until she writhed fully bare in its grip. Her backside chilled, exposed as it turned her further, suckling the tips of her breasts with its hungry slime. Then the snap came, hot and sudden as a paddle against her exposed skin and Faelyn screamed into the goo. That goo dripped as her lips parted, it sunk and wriggled into her mouth to heat her tongue.

 And then it slapped again, forcing her further into it, breasts and thighs burning as it held them tighter, and then again. It snapped and snapped, too hard, too hot and Faelyn wailed as the tendrils at her wrists yanked her ever lower–deeper into the goo.

It squirmed around her, pulling closer and slipped as easily between her legs as it had her lips. But it burned hotter there and it did not drip, it coiled and twisted, shaping itself into a thicker tendril than those that trapped her. She moaned again, sucking more of it into her throat and the goo shifted, it bubbled around her face allowing warm air into her nostrils.

It did not want to suffocate, to kill, and Faelyn had that single breath to consider the kindness of it…before the tendril between her legs split and spiked.

She wailed again through the goo as those tendrils worked themselves deeper and deeper into her, twirling and pulsing between ridged shapes. The creature that consumed her intended to taste every inch of her, and every drop it could coax and squeeze.

It would coax more than moans and moist desire, as Faelyn noticed its burn taper, the electric sting of its slime numbing. Her wrists yet stuck in the gelatin of its skin, the rest of her wrapped tight in its slime, but she could wriggle in its grip. She could suckle what filled her throat and grind on what twisted so rough and deep between her thighs.

The creature rippled as Faelyn drew it further into her throat, as she sucked and moaned with its bulk inside her. Its surface spiked, pinking the green sheen of its skin and a matching orb bobbed within it, beyond the reach of Faelyn’s trapped tongue.

I will have your heart between my teeth, she promised the slime, voice silent in the unrelenting force of it oozing ever-thicker into her.

Slime pulsed faster between her thighs, lapping up what she dripped, what she spilled too easily as its tendrils throbbed and thrust harder into her–deeper, wetter. But Faelyn welcomed it, the shame of it, and the heat. She bucked with the next thrust of those tendrils, filling the goo with bubbling moans as thoroughly as it filled her.

The pink orb bobbed higher in the creature, pulsing hard and fast in darker shades and Faelyn jerked toward it. Thrusting her hips deeper into the goo, her knees wider against it, she took more of its hot tendrils into her. The creature’s surface throbbed to crimson and it shivered, all of its slime jiggling hotter and thicker along her skin.

Faelyn’s moans split through its rippling goo and echoed loud and sharp through the hall. A distant moan returned, reverberating through the air, throaty and rasped and something in the tone of it set Faelyn aflame.

She thrust harder into the slimy thing that held her, grinding into its cooling goo faster and deeper. It spiked stiffer, every glistening inch of it, and Faelyn’s skin bled with the sharp pricks along her shuddering skin. But she did not slow, even as the goo dripped out of her mouth and softened around her wrists, she thrust.

Not until the orb launched from the creature’s vibrating center, straight toward Faelyn’s face did she slow. And only to lunge, not stalled but aided by the slime melting inside her. She caught the squishy morsel in her teeth and the creature rippled again, collapsing under the weight of the lust that burned through it. A lust that burst from it, popping like so many bubbles from its jiggling mass, as Faelyn bit down on its orb.

She drooped to the stone floor, soaked in the viscous leavings of the slime she had felled–eaten as easily as she would a decadent tart. Then she rose, wobbling, to her hands and knees but kept to the stones.

Her voice was stuttered, gargled and gasped after she retched goo from her throat, but she spoke anyway, “That all you have for me, witch?”

[nyandereneko]

A Productive Afternoon

Word Count: 589

Summary: “She didn’t want to fall victim to his charms so easily, but they were both equally hopeless in their fondness for one another.”

Author’s Note: Happy day 6 of yumeweek! I’ve really been enjoying doing these little drabbles and hopefully I’ll be able to keep playing around with them in between longer pieces. This time I finally took the chance to give Vax and Nova permission to be cute together, and it’s definitely something I’d like to do more of in the future. As always thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Reblogs appreciated!

*****

“I don’t know where I would be without you.”

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard, but it wasn’t wholly unpleasant. She was brewing a simple elixir and he was keeping her company while she worked. The arcane arts weren’t exactly his forte, but that didn’t mean Vax couldn’t appreciate the finesse of her craft. And Nova had an abundance of it, measuring and mixing and enchanting as she concocted therapeutic and restorative draughts for every occasion. 

They’d certainly served him well in a few binds, but given the choice he always preferred the comfort of her gentle, healing touch. Just the memory of those fluttering fingers tending his wounds with a soothing salve and a whispered spell was enough to make him shiver. He observed the lazy ascent of a few bubbles as they breached the surface of her brew, his keen eyes shifting to the main source of his distraction as she applied the finishing touches.

“That feels like a pretty serious thing to say,” Nova replied, silently cursing as her hands began to quiver, betraying her heart’s unease. “Especially unprovoked. So, what brought this on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He chuckled in response: a deep, rich sound that made her ears ring and soul sing. She didn’t want to fall victim to his charms so easily, but they were both equally hopeless in their fondness for one another. He rested a hand upon her own, fingers slipping into place as if they’d been molded as two parts of a whole. With a light squeeze he attempted to coax her to lift her head, but it seemed her anxiety was weighing her down. They’d long since offered to share the struggle of assisting each other in shouldering their burdens, but the stinging bite of insecurity and self doubt was pronounced and hard to overcome, armed with merciless fang and crushing jaw.

“Just felt like paying you a compliment,” he answered with a smirk, lips brushing the tip of her ear as he went on, “do you object? Even if you do, it doesn’t negate the fact that what I said is undeniably true.”

She took a breath in a feeble attempt to steady her voice as she struggled to put her scrambled thoughts into words. “You know I could say the same about—”

He cut her off with a kiss, precise and intent on derailing her train of thought. His strategy worked as intended, momentarily clearing the faelyne’s mind of anything but his preoccupying presence. She pulled back and he trailed after her before catching himself, not wanting to overstep any boundaries in his haste. She didn’t step away entirely nor did she retract her hand from his grasp, however, and he figured now was as good a time as any to plead his case.

“I know you pride yourself on being the nice one,” he hummed, nuzzling one of her ears as she melted into his snug embrace, “but do you think you could look the other way, just this once? In fact, all you really need to do is look at me.”

Reluctantly she acquiesced to his request, her mind promptly going numb as his heartfelt expression eclipsed her surroundings. At least he’d waited until the potion was complete, lest his impish meddling lead to any unexpected consequences. The sole consequence of their current exchange was likely to involve a little more talk and a lot more doting; it seemed it really was turning out to be quite a productive afternoon.

[adventuresofthechaoscoven]

The Party goes to an Escape Room

Part 2

written by: dee

character(s): faelyn, crow, blayre, ryxen, hades, hope (aka the whole party LOL)

canon/non-canon: non/canon

word count: 0.7K

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

30:00 Left on the Clock…

As the party continued to search for their next piece of the puzzle on the inside, they found clues all over the bar, but didn’t know what to do with all of the information.

“Okay, so we have this newspaper article… annnd a key that doesn’t seem to go anywhere.” Fae held up the key the got as a reward for the liquid puzzle. Crow snatched it out of Fae’s hand to run around the room, looking for a lock that would fit. The rest of the party watched and waited, but Hades piped up with some newfound information.

“Hey uh… Guys? There is a lock on this booze cabinet. Did we try that?” He asked as he pointed to a lock in the cabinet, a cabinet literally labeled “booze”. You couldn’t see inside, but one could only assume it was indeed alcohol. The whole room seemed to facepalm or sigh all at once, something so apparent and in plain sight. Crow ran to the cabinet to unlock it, but what was found was something completely unexpected.

There was an entire room behind this cabinet. Kegs lined up with aging “wine” and the other half of the newspaper article. Everything was starting to add up– the friend group just didn’t have all the information yet. 

Hope started to connect the dots with the newspaper article and the aging wine kegs. Blayre and Fae started working on a different puzzle to unlock a box. Crow pranced around the room just happy that they got to be useful and unlocked the door. Hades was actually trying to help Hope. But it was Ryxen that found the answer to the wine puzzle.

“Hold the phone, isn’t it obvious?” Ryxen strutted towards Hope as she explained how it all connected and the answer to the puzzle, “It has to do with the years they started the aging process from.”

Hope smiled at Ryxen, “What happened to not understanding the point of all of this?” 

Ryxen was taken aback by this question, “I can have fun sometimes. I’m getting this whole thing now anyways.”

“Ryxen is no longer a buzzkill! Woooo!” Hades cheered, putting an arm around her.

“1) I am NOT a buzzkill, you’ve been in many drinking competitions with me. Those are fun. And 2) Get your arm off of me or I will cut it off.” Ryxen glared over at Hades, who was slowly backing away. 

Fae, Blayre, and Crow laugh a little in a circle around the box, watching the situation go down.

“But where does the answer go?? We don’t really have anything to put this 4-digit number into…” Hope questioned.

As the party was having a good time, they hear an announcement. 15:00 Left on the Clock…

“Only 15 more minutes?!?! No way it has taken us this long!! What do we do?!” Fae starts to panic a little under the pressure of time. Blayre pats her on the pack to try and calm her down.

“I’m sure once we figure out this box it’ll bring us the next piece of the puzzle. Don’t panic!” Blayre reassured Fae. 

Crow nodded in agreement, “Panicking shouldn’t be on the to-do list right now. We have a game to win!”

As they were chatting, that’s when it hit Ryxen. “Back in the bar. There was a number-to-letter conversion thingy. It was weird. Maybe it’s that!” She speed walks to the paper she was talking about and hands it to Faelyn.

“Where did you see this and why didn’t you tell anyone?” Fae asked as she handed the paper to Blayre, letting Blayre and Crow solve the puzzle.

Ryxen just shrugged, “Didn’t think it was that important.”

“Got it!” Blayre yells in excitement, as she reveals a new key. The key opened one of the last locks in the room when suddenly-

5:00 Left on the Clock… Game Complete!

The whole party cheered and jumped around happily as they solved the room. 

“I am very surprised we did that! Even Hades helped!” Hope exclaims with excitement.

“Yeah! That was fun! We should do another one. Perhaps one with actual booze. Or more throwing things! I liked throwing things!” Hades was visibly excited from the whole experience as the party left the room and started heading out towards the night.

“I think we should definitely do more. That was fun!” Blayre said as they walked to their vehicle. 

“I suppose I’d be fine with another one.” Ryxen agreed.

“Then we shall do many more!” Faelyn exclaimed as they all went to dinner, discussing the room for the rest of the night.

[phoebelovingcare]

went on a bit of a tangent and ended up with "do bugs count as meat and would magolor eat cooked insects?"

since u are magolor expert

do you know the answer?

people have proclaimed me the expert on so many characters.

Bugs do count as meat! They’re a kind of white meat I’m pretty sure - just because their skeletons are on the outside doesn’t disqualify them from being meat. While I’m sure Halcandrans/faelynes would eat bugs, Magolor would not because he is autistic and does Not like the cronch

[a-queer-and-his-ocs]

Faelyn to Ardyn

Ardyn didn't know how long into the night he kept running, each breath like daggers and ice in his lungs, his body finally stopped at first light, in a wood that could of been full of vicious creatures but his mind had no room for the thought as he fell to his needs, a heart breaking sob escaping his body which shivered from the chill and shock. Within a night he had lost everything he knew because of one man, something had also awoken in him, he could feel it under his skin an odd comfort to go with his loss. Once his body stopped shaking and the cries stopped leaving his body he forced himself up again, it wouldn't do to gain attention, now this mind a little more clear he knew better to stand still. “I need to find somewhere to think” he muttered to himself as he walked slowly, body tired but pressing on. It wasn't till the sun was already high he found a town, quiet, travelers going back and forth it seemed, those in armor looking at a noticeboard of jobs. That meant he would find an inn, if they would accept his sorry state. Keeping heavy eyes focused he walked until he saw the sign for an inn and entered, it was warm, smelt of meat and ale, not too busy. He walked to the bar, anxious which was new to him, how long would it take for those on horses with a poster of his face to reach here. It didn't feel safe but he needed to rest. The bar keep looked over, eyes looking at the young man in front of them “Job gone wrong?” a small huff of a laugh followed as they stood in front of him. “You could say that” He forced a smile “I was hoping for a room, I will pay two nights, even if I just stay one” The older lady moved to grab her ledger looking at the pages and hummed “yes, that will run you 4 gold in total, name?” he was grabbing the small pouch he had managed to take and stopped for a moment, a name. He needed one, he took in a breath before answer “Ardyn Mayrose” it fell off the tongue and soon a key was pushed to him, He gave the gold and headed up to a simple room but saw a small fire going, he took his rain and sweat soaked clothing off and hung them near the heat as he grabbed a blanket and sat by the fire himself.

He was no longer Faelyn of the starless ship, no longer a gem to be admired. Now he was Ardyn, he wasnt sure who Ardyn was yet but he would have to travel and not look back.

[captainhollowstories]

Crossing Oceans

Prologue

Looting Howlite Keep was every thief’s dream job. Tonight, while the festivities raged throughout the city, the castle was sparsely guarded. Gil had made it past the inner gardens, through the servants’ quarters, and deep into the maze-like corridors where the royal vault was rumoured to be hidden.

Tales of the royal treasury was what kept thieves like Gil young and hopeful. If he was successful, there would be no more nights sat around a fire in the middle of nowhere, listening greedily to traces of work to be found in the cities, or pickpocketing drunken nobles on the streets as they stumbled home in the dark. After tonight, his belly would be full and his bed always warm. He would build a manor far from the coast and wed a beautiful woman.

And he would buy back his brother’s love, one gold piece at a time.

Everything would be right in the world once more, after tonight.

A subtle noise down the dark corridor caused Gil to duck into the shadow of an alcove. He leaned around the dusty curtain to find the source of the sound. It was only a maiden in the hall, clothed in blue silk and draped in a black mantle. Yet the alcove wasn’t wide enough to hide him from her. A bead of sweat rolled along his nape as she slowly approached, her boots soft against the grey stones.

The maiden nearly passed him, but a small gasp escaped between the girl’s red lips at the sight of him cowering behind the curtain.

“Fair lady.” Gil stepped out and bowed, sweeping his hand behind his back. As he returned to full height, the gesture allowed him time enough to conjure up a lie. “I’ve unfortunately lost my way. Might you live here? Could you escort me back to the ballroom?”

The maiden bowed, tilting her head of dark locks forward, and Gil noted how otherworldly she appeared. Her limbs were long and graceful, her eyes the bluish silver of the sea, and her skin as waxy as the moon.

“You are indeed lost, sir,” she said, her voice a cool winter’s day. “The ballroom is in the opposite direction.”

“Forgive me. I would be honoured if you could escort me there.”

Her red mouth curved into a smile. “I would like nothing less.”

Perhaps Gil would be doubly lucky tonight. Perhaps once he claimed the royal riches, this maiden would run away with him. Serving girls were poor. Was she a servant? Maybe a lady-in-waiting, by the look of her dress. But she must want more than tending to the rich all her life. There was far more to the world than stuffy Howlite and its exalted royals.

They entered the servants’ quarters, and Gil remarked how the halls looked familiar, allowing the maiden to guide him quietly along. They halted near the archway crowning the stairwell that led aboveground, the maiden pausing to smile up at him, a faint blush colouring her pale cheeks.

Gil wanted to kiss her. He hoped she would let him. “Would you part with your name, lady?”

“I am called Faelyn,” she answered.

“Faelyn. What a lovely...” Gil paused, frowning. Faelyn? Where have I heard that name before? It sounded like it belonged to one of the Fair Folk.

Memories were a currency to thieves, as valuable as gold. If you couldn’t keep your memories in line, you might as well hang up your lock-picks. Gil knew in this moment he was forgetting something extremely important—something dangerous, even.

The young woman still smiled, though now it seemed to Gil that the docile curve of her mouth held an underlying animosity he hadn’t noticed before, the red bloom of her lips a smear of poison. Her hair—hung in inky tendrils down to her hips, curling around her pale face—was akin to the drowned women in the ghost stories children told. Even the way she moved, which he mistook as a dancer’s grace, now seemed more like a feral cat ready to pounce.

“Who are you?” Gil whispered, his heart beating fast.

Her voice was colder still when she spoke. “I am Faelyn, the Queen’s Left Hand, and you are trespassing within the private halls of the castle.”

Gil let out a sharp gasp. “Seven Gods—are you really her?”

From within her blue sleeve, Faelyn withdrew a slender dagger, the hilt cut into red whorls and encrusted with black gemstones. It shone in the moonlight cutting through the high window, a slice of terrible light amidst the shadows. Gil felt frozen to the spot.

“Please, lady, have mercy,” he pleaded. “I’m merely lost—”

“You have the practised tongue of a liar, and the footsteps of a sneak. I believe you are Michalis of Highwater, enemy to my lady, here to carry out the threats you made to the queen.”

“No, no, you have it all wrong—”

“I think not. You match the description perfectly, down to the blemish in your golden left eye. Thank you for delivering yourself to me, for you have saved me the trouble of a hunt. Goodbye, Sir Michalis. May your Seven Gods judge you fairly for all you have done.”

With the speed of a practised killer, Faelyn stuck the thief with the knife. It plunged straight through Gil’s chest, cracking apart his ribs and biting into the soft vulnerability of his heart. He tasted the blood rising in his throat, and he choked on the warmth of his own life force as he lay on his back on the cold stones.

Hovering above him, her ghostly face half aglow in the moonlight and the other half plunged into deep shadow, stood Faelyn.

And she watched the life leave his eyes.

[faelynfawn]

Art commission info

Fanfiction commission info

Hello. You can call me Faelyn or Fawn or anything really. I use he/him pronouns. I am 18.

This is my MCYT sideblog. I used to have a seperate blog under this name, but I realised none of my posts were appearing in tags and my account was not appearing when it was searched for. Since this was just an inactive sideblog I had, I decided to repurpose it.

Other accounts:

AO3 - FaelynFawn

Youtube - FaelynFawn

My tags:

#faelyn art <- Art

#faelyn writes <- Anything related to writing

#faelyn talks <- Posts where I have added text in some way

#faelyn answers <- Asks

[faerielandtrolls]

Faelyn, your lusus is a Phoenix, right? Has your lusus gone through any or a lot or death and rebirth cycles.. anything like that?

I døn't necessarIlii knøw w#at cønstItutes as a løt, but t#ere #ave been a faIr few t#at I remember. W#en I was yøung It was alwaiis nerve-wrackIng, but I've gøtten used tø It nøw

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Hmmm, time to get to know a bit about everyone x) Can you do 2, 4, 8, 15, and 17 for the oc asks I haven't seen yet? Thanks so much, I love getting to know about your ocs :)

I’m going to be answering for my Dragon Age OCs, but I’ve got more in a non-DA setting for an original story I’m working on! If you want to learn about those, send an ask to @daughter-of-war

I’m more than happy to answer!

As usual, this got quite long! More under the cut!

2. Do any of your OCs have a physical disability?

You know what? None of my Wardens really do. I should try to work on making more diverse characters, but as of now, I think I’ll include Redren, because over-use of his magic can lead to pretty bad anemia, which is always there to a degree. And Maria, one of my non-warden OCs, is mostly blind.

4. Does your OC have anything they take pride in? (Like an award or collection?)

Redren takes immense pride in his blood magic, something he’s always defined himself as. His entire life revolved around the singular fact that he was a Blood Mage, and he learned to take pride in it. To him, the only part of himself he could take pride in was what he couldn’t ever change. Unfortunately, nobody in the world seemed to think blood magic was anything to take pride in.

Orest takes pride in his nature, seeing his personality as the most important thing about himself. His ability to have compassion, and to make people laugh, is one of his favorite things about himself. He’s not vain, but he is self-confident. To Orest, the best anyone can be is their best, and he’s proud to say that he’s doing the best he can.

Faelyn takes pride in her friends. She’d lived so long with only her cousins as friends, as soon as she found companionship in Alistair, and Morrigan, and Leliana, and Zevran, and even in Shale, Wynne, and Oghren, she sees it as one of the best things she’d ever accomplished. Sten’s still a work in progress, but she’ll get there some day!

Andrea is quite vain and self-centered at the beginning of her story, making her social status the most valued aspect of herself, something she took immense pride in. Eventually, she learned to see past that fairly narcissistic view of herself, but in the start of it all, her place in the world as the Arl of Highever’s only daughter gave her all the pride in the world.

Hundir was similar to Andrea, but as soon as he was cast from Orzammar, the object of his pride moved to his battleaxe, the weapon that led him through the Deep Roads became his source of pride, the dark crimson stain of Darkspawn blood helping him hold his head up high.

Gemma takes pride in her brand. To many casteless, the brand is an awful reminder of what they are, the failure of their birth, but as soon as she joined the Wardens, she held her head up high, pulling the hair out of her face to show the world the black brand on her face. She’d smile as she thought of what those back in Orzammar would think, to see a casteless girl take pride in her branding as worthless. Because she knew she wasn’t worthless.

8. Do you ship any 2 of your OCs?

None of my Wardens, no, but I do have a few original couples!

Jo and Renee Bircann, from Orlais, are one! Jo is genderfluid, who switches from biologically and mentally male to biologically and mentally female at random, with Jo’s birth gender being unknown (this way people can’t really call it a “fake gender”, because s/he is “actually” fe/male on any given day. Loophole, transphobes!) And Renee is his/her wife, a lesser noble-born woman forced to run from the Orlesian nobility due to her magic that manifested when she was fourteen. The two started their relationship when both of them were fleeing Orlais, meeting in the Orlesian side of the mountains near Orzammar, with Renee immediately captivated by the rugged-looking “man” in the mountains. Luckily, Renee is bisexual, and very attracted to both women and men. Jo is just two lovers in one!

Maria and Bethany are another couple! Maria is one of my most developed non-Warden OCs, seeing as she’s central to Redren’s story. An approximately 600 year old Tevinter-born sorceress, Maria is in a relationship with Bethany, a spirit of an ancient tribal princess of the nomadic Enchanted Wood Tribe of the forests of the Anderfels and Orlais. They started their relationship when Maria invited Bethany out of the Fade as a fully-formed apparition about 500 years ago, as she had been there for 500 years already, fully aware, but with no way to get back to the world of the living.

15. Do any of your OCs have pets?

All of my Wardens got the Mabari companion! How could I resist giving each of them a puppy?

Redren named his mabari Dog, because it’s simple and he couldn’t think of anything better in the moment. The name stuck, in the end, despite Alistair’s protests against naming a warhound Dog.

Orest named his mabari companion Anga, Tolkien Elven for Iron. He thought it was pretty cool, and a tough dog deserves a tough name!

Faelyn decided to call her mabari Puppy! Her first instinct was to call out "puppy!" when she saw him, so yeah, she kept the name. Cute, isn’t it?

Andrea called her mabari Prince, and she treated him like one. She’d play with him in the Highever Castle gardens, and read books with him, and brush his fur, in short, she spoiled that dog rotten. And after she lost everything except that dog, she treasured him more than anything in Thedas.

Hundir, the ever so tough Aeducan, named his new mabari Ripper. He liked how tough and intimidating it was, and over the course of the Blight, yeah, that dog earned that name tenfold.

Gemma named her mabari Flower after her favorite thing on the Surface. She had never seen a mabari before, so she was very excited over the idea of having one to call her own. The pretty little flower that saved it is forever remembered in her mabari’s name.

17. Do you have any OCs you haven’t posted about?

Maria, who I’m in the process of writing a “write-up” post about, is honestly a really fun character to develop! She’s loud, and outgoing, and certainly the pinnacle of the older-sister type. She is the one largely responsible for raising Redren, with the help of her mother, Alda, and her Dearest, Bethany. She’s been blind for nearly six hundred years, after being bound to the Fade by the magic of spirit-channeling and Necromancy. To say she’s a living corpse is untrue, but she is essentially frozen as an eighteen-year-old for the foreseeable future. She’s able to see the spirits of people, animals, and living plants, making her able to navigate with no problem. Spirits free from the “prison” that is the mortal flesh are able to be seen with perfect clarity for her. She’s slightly infamous from Tevinter to Ferelden, however, known to many as an Enchantress that seduced men who later went “missing.” Human blood is incredibly good for potions and food, in her mind. She gave up the habit about two hundred years ago, but that doesn’t stop her from telling story after story about the fun she had with the witch-burners and Templars before they died, though.

Bethany, as mentioned above, was a tribal princess of the Enchanted Wood Tribe of Orlais and the Anderfels. Elf-blooded a million times over, due to the mixture of elf and human makeup of the nomadic tribe, Bethany was considered the most beautiful of her tribe, with wavy blonde hair to her ankles and green-blue eyes, she was sacrificed to Desire Demons in order to keep her tribe alive through the unpredicted and harsh winter. She sacrificed herself willingly, but she’s always wondered what happened to her beloved tribe. She’s a full-bodied and fully aware ghost now, forever reminded of her sacrifice by the large hole though her chest where her heart was taken, and her eternal forced nudity. She doesn’t mind the nudity, though.

Alda, Maria’s mother, and Bethany’s Dear Mother, is the matriarch of the village all my Dragon Age OCs live in, which is made of nearly all apostates driven from their homes or Circle escapees. She’s a proud Andrastian, but not opposed to the Ancient Elven or Tribal Gods and Goddesses. She’s a kind and loving old lady, physically around 70, as she stopped her aging after her daughter. A spirit healer, she’s kept alive in the same type of way Wynne is, except she chose to be kept alive by the Fade. She’s incredibly matronly, and helped to raise Redren as his Auntie.

And many more, but way less developed ones!

I’m also making playlists for each of my Wardens, so if you have any requests for what character I should prioritize, please reply! Thanks~!

[iarollane]

Fictober ninth

Prompt 9: "There's a certain taste to it."

Dragon Age: Inquisition: set during the Singer of Magic fic I'm working on. Features Lashanna ne'Drak, Solas, Josephine Montilyet, Leliana Nightingale, Tamra, Faelyn...

Rating mature, there's some slight sexual themes towards the end. I haven't been in a smut-writing frame of mind in a long while, and this was supposed to include some originally, so this took about two days longer than it should have. Apologies!

==

Josie had, somehow, heard it was my birthday.

I'd done the math. Back home, I'd have turned twenty-five a few days ago. I'm not really sure what that means for me here in Thedas, but regardless, I've spent a quarter of a century alive. Quite the accomplishment, right?

I immediately vetoed Josie's idea of a big lavish party involving all of Skyhold, including the dignitaries of course. It would have undoubtedly lasted all night long and given her an opportunity to soften up some of the harder cases.

"If you decide to throw that party, I'm leaving for the Fallow Mire," I told her in no uncertain terms. "I'm sure there's still things to find in the muck."

She finally agreed to no gala. "But we must celebrate somehow," she argued.

"Why?"

"Because you risk your life every day." She crossed her arms. "It would be a way to reaffirm to yourself and everyone else that you're still here, even after everything. Everyone would appreciate an opportunity to relax and enjoy themselves, I'm sure."

I tapped my fingers on her desk, thinking. "Okay, maybe. But only a small thing. In my rooms, say?" That should work to limit how many people she could invite. "Fine," I sighed. "When did you want to do this?"

"Oh, we can work out the details later," she said. "It might take time to get everything ready." A shrewd look crossed her face. "We'll have to decide on what food to serve. And of course, there must be a cake," she suggested.

"And I'm sure you have exactly the Baker and design in mind already," I said dryly.

She smiled, like a cat in the creamery. "I might have an idea or two in that direction."

I nodded, my mind already on other things. "Sounds good, Josie."

==

late that same day

"Surprise!"

I staggered at the sight and sound of- oh gods, there must be more than fifty people! It nearly tossed me back down the stairs.

Laughing, Josie came to me with her arms outstretched. "Whaa-," is about all I could say as she gave me a hug.

Faelyn was next, a big goofy grin splitting his face. "Happy Birthday, asa'ma'lin!" he crowed, squeezing me tight around my middle. I started laughing as more people came up to offer their own birthday wishes.

Half an hour later I found myself by my desk. All of the papers had been cleared away, and the grumpy bartender from The Herald's Rest was using it as his impromptu bar. He slid me a mug, saying, "Birthday wishes and all that. Here's a free drink. One night only. Don't go expecting it all the time."

I raised it in mock salute, then took a big swig. I wandered over to the table someone had set up with finger foods. Tamra chirped "Happy Birthday!" and handed me a small plate with a slice of lemon cream cake. "Where has all this been hiding?" I asked her incredulously.

She hid a smile, saying, "Your wardrobe. Since you hate going in there, and you're rarely in your rooms during the day, it was the perfect place to put everything."

"Sneak," I said good naturedly, and took a small bite of the cake. It melted in my mouth, tasting just like my mom had made when I was little. "How did you guys do all of this?" I mumbled, shoving more cake into my face.

"It was that strange young man. Cole?" Leliana's soft voice came from behind me. Tamra excused herself. "He came to Josie while we were having tea, about how you were year older than you'd been the day before, but it somehow made you sad." She shrugged one shoulder. "Once we were able to make sense of what he was talking about, all Josie could talk about was throwing you a party."

"But she just asked me about it today!"

"And you're welcome for that. It took a lot of convincing on my part for her to even mention the possibility to you. She's been planning this for a week, using Cole to figure out what you'd like, but I told her there was a chance you didn't want to celebrate at all. Why else wouldn't you have told anyone about your birthday." She raised an eyebrow at me, turning it into a question. I hurriedly stuffed another piece of cake in my mouth so that I wouldn't have to answer. "'Asking' you today was our compromise, to ensure you truly wouldn't mind."

I put my plate down and gave her a hug. "Thank you for looking out for me," I said. I noticed Solas slipping through the throngs of people to my bedroom door, a plate with a huge slice of cake in his hand. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go... mingle?"

Her eyes crinkled in amusement. "Don't do anything I would do!"

I grinned back. "There's no chantry board to pin smallclothes onto, so no worries there!"

Her startled laugh followed me to my door. I took another look at the party, marveling that everyone had gone through all this effort for me. When I pushed open the door, I didn't know what to expect. Why had Solas hidden in here?

I found him in the dark, with only a small fire burning in the fireplace. He was sitting at my secondary desk, eyes closed with a fork in his mouth. He opened his eyes when he heard me enter, and set down the fork. I could see a small bit of icing by the side of his mouth, and the plate was almost empty.

He stood. "Ma'da'mis. It seems an odd thing to celebrate, but I hope your twenty-fifth year is happier than any you've previously had."

I smiled at him as he wrapped his arms around me. "You don't celebrate birthdays, do you?"

His lips quirked. "Was it that obvious?" I giggled a little, nodding. "It's been a long time since I've noted any singular year as being significant," he explained. "But I think in this case, I'll make an exception. Especially if it means I get to indulge in vices like this." He nodded towards the remains of the cake.

"Yes, because frilly cakes are an incredibly serious vice," I said with mock sternness. "It's terrible, the way those cakes sneak up on you and leave evidence all over your face." Before he could react, I stood on my tiptoes, wrapped my arms around his neck for balance, and licked the icing off his mouth.

He raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. "And what is your verdict?" he asked.

"There's a certain taste to it," I said thoughtfully.

"Oh?"

I kissed him, savoring the taste of the lemon cream on his lips. "It's better on you," I said.

He grinned, tracing his fingers over my cheek. "I could say the same of you, Vhenan."

[mzfancypantz2]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Chaps Faelyn Sandals.

[rookie-dm-disasters]

Chapter 19: Heard it Through the Tree Vine

Burdru landed the zeppelin in a clearing in the middle of the forest. They were a good walk away from the world tree, but the walk was nothing unmanageable. Pumpeck, Niama, Thorfreyer, Rum, and Veldora stepped out of the zeppelin and were met with elves dressed inn white and green armor. Each one held a spear in their hands and bore a shield that had the symbol of a large tree. An elf spoke and said “We saw that Burdru was with you. Bring him out.” The crew took note that it was a not a question. They saw the large elephant man’s trunk before they saw anything else as he made his way out of the zeppelin. Despite his size, he looked small as he stepped closer to the guards. He held up a thick hand and waved at the guards. “Hello. I have brought guests that require the aide of the tree.” The elves’ eyes widened when they heard Burdru say ��the tree.” In unison, they leveled their spears. “You have abandoned us, but you will show proper respect to the world tree Yggdrasil.” Burdru snapped to attention. “Yes, of course. Yggdrasil. These guests require the assistance of Yggdrasil.” The guards pulled up their spears, the metal was pristine to the point of blinding them when the light played off of blades. A guard stepped forward. “As is known, any are welcome to seek her aid, be they willing to take the test. I can take you to her. Will you be joining, Burdru?” The question was dripping with venom. It wasn’t a true question, but a dare. It was unclear why the guard spoke in such a mocking tone. But it was clear enough that Burdru had not left on good terms. The guard began to walk towards Yggdrasil, not waiting to hear a response. The party began to follow, but as they walked, they heard Burdru say from behind them, “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait in the zeppelin.” They waked through the forest, following the guard that had so warmly welcomed them. He was not a chatty fellow, not initiating any small talk with the group, which was appreciated by most of them. Scattered throughout the forest were several camps and gatherings of people in groves. Some looked like they were performing rituals around a bon fire. Others appeared to simply be enjoying the day in good company. The people who lived here were primarily elves. But they did notice some more loxodons like Burdru, as a well as a few humans, but those were rare. They seemed to have a certain oneness with the forest around them. Animals approached with no fear. Squirrels were eating from their hands. Birds were sitting on their shoulders. Deer rested with them by the fires. It looked like a peaceful life, living and communing with nature. But the party couldn’t help recall what Burdru had said about living among the Selesnyan Conclave. It was a beautiful and peaceful life, certainly. But it was boring. How long would they have been able to live here, they wondered. The guard finally spoke. “We are nearing Yggdrasil. I should warn you, you should only enter if your intentions are pure. If you attempt to enter and speak with Yggdrasil and you hold ill will in your heart, you will not enjoy the consequences.” Once they got closer, they understood what he meant when he said “go in.” At the base of the tree was a large opening. Large enough that even a giant could pass through. They could see a dim green light glowing from inside. At either side of the entrance stood a large statue. The statues did not look like anything in particular. They looked more like five large rocks held together by some magic to look vaguely humanoid. They had runes engraved throughout them and vines growing around the stone at the center. The guard simply gestured to the opening with his spear. A silent “go for it.” His smirk told them he did not have high hopes for them. Niama looked to the group. “Alright, I’m not going to lie, I think I may have a bit too much baggage to help out with this one.” She turned around and walked to a nearby tree. “I’ll be over here when you’re done.” Pumpeck followed after her. “What do you mean? Wouldn’t it be best if we go in together?” “Absolutely not.” Niama continued walking. She reached a nice, shady tree had a nice seat. “Well, she’s out.” Said Thorfreyer. “I’m willing to go in though. Pure intentions? Got ‘em. All I want is the leaf to return home. Nothing purer.” He brimmed with confidence. “Who else is in?” he eyed his group. “I should probably pass.” Rum said, holding up his flask. “I’m already a little tipsy, and I imagine that’s an immediate disqualifier.” It was a fair assumption. “What about you, Veldora?” Pumpeck asked in her cheery tone. Veldora looked down at the small gnome. “No.” Pumpeck waited a few seconds. “Okay.” Waited a few more. “Will you tell me why?” “No” He said as he turned and walked toward his own tree to sit under. Pumpeck felt a heavy clap on her back that pushed her forward a foot. “Guess it’s you and me, Pumpeck. You ready?”  Pumpeck looked up and nodded, eyes filled with determination. The two of them walked to the entrance of the tree and passed through the tree, expecting the statues to come to life. As they got closer, the runes on the golems began to glow a faint blue color. “Go through one at a time.” They heard the guar yell. Thorfreyer took the lead. The runes glowed with more and more intensity as he approached. He could feel his concern welling up in his chest, unsure what was going to happen. But as he passed the threshold of the tree, the runes on the golems turned green. “Is that good?!” Thorfreyer yelled back. He saw Pumpeck shrugging and shaking her head. The guard was giving him a thumbs up, letting him know he passed whatever the test was. Pumpeck ran towards the entrance, excited to see what was on the inside. The Runes once again turned blue as she got closer and shifted to a bright green as she passed the threshold. They nodded at each other and went further into the tree. Rum approached the guard. “What exactly is the deal with the test?” The guard chuckled. “It’s simple enough. The golems you see there are enchanted with the ability to detect thoughts. If anyone passes with ill intent, the golems with crush them where they stand.” “And what is the point of this test? Why not simply escort a guest yourselves?” “Simple security. Why have a squishy elf protect Yggdrasil when you can have a sentinel like that.” He pointed to the golems. “We find it is the best way to keep her safe.” Rum scratched the scruff on his chin. “You keep speaking as if Yggdrasil is not right in front of us. What will they see in that cave?” The guard laughed once more. “That is knowledge only for those who pass the test. But I assure you, your friends are not out of danger yet.” Rum looked back to the entrance and saw the shadows of Pumpeck and Thorfreyer disappear in the green light. Thorfreyer and Pumpeck followed the green light deeper and deeper into the tree. The walls were made of thick roots that dug deep into the ground. They could feel power humming in the air. Since spending more time with wizards, the both of them had become a little more in tune with the arcane. They were far from fully understanding it, but they had learned from Faelyn about the weave of reality, and how magic was a force tied into that weave. They knew magic was around them, but both of them could feel the magic in the air around them in this place. The air was dense with its power. They had to pop their ears as they traveled deeper into the tree due to the pressure that this power exuded. They saw they were close to the end now. The green light appeared to be coming from a small pool of water in the center of a room no larger than 40 feet by 40 feet. They could see on the other side of the room, sitting on a chair made of vines and roots, a dryad more beautiful than any woman they had ever seen. The leaves on her head were a green reminiscent of emeralds. Her face was free of blemished and looked perfectly smooth to the touch. Her eyes were green as a forest mid Spring. She sat with one leg crossed over the other, her head resting on her fist as she looked into the pool of water. Without looking away from the water, the edge of her mouth curled up a near imperceptible amount. “Pumpeck and Thorfreyer. Took you long enough to get here.” She continued to look at the pool. Walking into a large tree, only to be greeted by a tree person who knows your name would throw most people off of their game. Maybe even a little concern. Pumpeck, however, was not most people. “You know who we are?” She said with a smile beaming on her face. “That’s amazing how do you know us?” The dryad’s hard expression warmed and the leaves on her head became a brighter shade of green as her smile grew. She waved a hand at the water in front of her “The pool allows me to see many things in the world.” She finally looked at them. “And other worlds.” “Who are you?” Asked Thorfreyer. “That, I’m afraid does not have a simple answer. I suppose the best way to describe it is that I am an Yggdrasil.” She must have had this conversation with others before, because she went into explaining before they had an opportunity to ask the questions she knew they would ask. “This tree you are in is not the true Yggdrasil. It is merely a branch that extends into this world. Every world has a branch of Yggdrasil in it, and each one has one of us. The true Yggdrasil, the world tree that lies between worlds is not reachable by mortals. We refer to that Yggdrasil as out mother. And yes, she has her own dryad residing within.” “That is.” Thorfreyer searched for the right word. “Enlightening. But how do you know who we are?” “Simple enough.” Said Yggdrasil. “We dryads of Yggdrasil are all connected. My sister from your world had informed me through the scrying pool that you all had wiggled your way into my world. I figured you would come to me for aid sooner or later if you wanted to return home.” She eyed the two of them. “Though I must say that only two of you being willing to attempt to enter is.” Her leaves turned the color of dark, dingey moss. “Disappointing.” As she moved about in her chair while she spoke, the two adventures could see the vines of the chair move along with her. It didn’t take too much effort to see that she was attached to the chair. “Regardless of that.” Said Thorfreyer. “Will you help us get home? I’m sure you know that all we need is a leaf.” “I am well aware of what you need.” She said. “However, I will not give a leaf freely. You will have to earn it.” “What do you need us to do?” Asked Pumpeck. “It is a simple matter, all things considered.” The leaves on her head brightened. “I simply ask that you bring a traitor to me. A year or so ago, one of our own in the conclave betrayed us and stole a leaf from me. I want you to bring him to me so justice may be served.” They were worried that it would be an arduous fetch quest, but this task sounded simple. And if they could bring in a traitorous thief, that was all the better. Pumpeck was more eager than Thorfreyer to bring in a criminal, but Thorfreyer had no bones about it. “What can you tell us about this traitor?” Yggdrasil laughed. “I am happy to inform you that you already know everything that you need to know about them.” It took them a moment to realize who she was talking about. Someone who was a member of the conclave but left on bad terms. They reached the same conclusion and said in unison. “Burdru.” “Yes.” The dryad smiled. “Burdru, the loxodon. I know not of his motives. I know not why he left or why he took a leaf with him. But that matters little to me. I would see him meet justice for his crimes.” Pumpeck grew uncomfortable. “Does it have to be Burdru? He’s been a lot of help to us. Surely there is another task that we can undertake?” “No.” Said Yggdrasil. Her leaves turning the fiery red of Autumn. “Burdru for the leaf. That is the deal. I accept no other offer.” The leaves returned to the calming green as she spoke. “Now, leave me. I have business to attend to.” Her gaze returned to the luminous pool. Thorfreyer and Pumpeck could see nothing in it, but they could only imagine what the being connected to the tree could see. Once they exited the tree, they were greeted by Rum, asking if they needed any heling done. They shook their heads and said they were fine. “Good.” Said Rum. “The guard over their said that you were still in danger and I just wanted to make sure. So, what’s the situation.” The three of them went and gathered Niama and Veldora before explaining their situation. Rum, Niama, and Veldora hung on every word as they realize what the tree really was. They had the realization that they would have to betray the person that had helped them so much. “So, what’s the plan?” Asked Veldora. “Is that even a question?” asked Niama. “We bring Burdru to Yggdrasil buy guile or by force. Personally, I don’t care which.” The group looked at her, slightly taken aback by her brashness. She had been calculating before, but something about that seemed especially cruel and coldhearted. Pumpeck looked at Niama. “I was hoping we could find a way to get the leaf and keep Burdru safe.” Niama shook her head. “Not a chance. This is the only thing we measly mortals have to offer to a being like her. If that’s what she wants, that’s what we will have to give her.” She walked past the party in the direction of the zeppelin. The rest of the group didn’t like it, but they couldn’t argue that Niama made sense. No matter how they though of it, it seemed unlikely to get around the rules of the agreement. They made it to the zeppelin and saw Burdru through the window of the cockpit. Niama put a smile on her face and waved to Burdru, signaling him to come out. He grew a worried look on his face as he stood. Burdru stepped out of the zeppelin and approached the group. “What’s going on?” he said. “Great news, Burdru.” Said Niama. “Yggdrasil is willing to give you a pass on your crimes.” His eyes widened as he looked to the rest of the group for confirmation. They all nodded in unison, not sure how else to aide this situation. “Is that right?” He said. “It sure is. She said that she is willing to forgive you on the condition that you meet her in person for a formal apology and an explanation.” The words came out easily, as if lying were a natural skill. “That’s amazing news. Will you go in with me?” He asked. “Just Pumpeck and Thorfreyer. They were the ones who went in to speak to her.” Niama turned back towards the world tree. “Let’s get a move on.” “Right.” Said Burdru as he began to follow at a brisk pace. Returning to the tree, they were once again met with the large opening and the stone golems. Niama extended a hand towards the entrance. Pumpeck and Thorfreyer looked to each other and walked through the entrance once again. They were unsure if Burdru would pass the test of entry, but whether his intentions were pure or Yggdrasil made an exception, they were unsure. The three of them disappeared into the green light of the cavern. Thorfreyer and Pumpeck could hear Burdru muttering to himself. They could only assume that he was rehearsing what he was going to say to Yggdrasil once they were face to face. They felt bad, deceiving him like this, but as far as they were aware, this was the only way they would be able to get home, and that had to be their top priority. In what felt like less time, they reached the core of Yggdrasil and saw the dryad resting on her throne. When they entered, she raised her eyes and her leaves flashed red for only an instant when she spotted Burdru. Burdru stepped forward and fell to one knee. Yggdrasil simply glared at him. “What do you have to say for yourself, fallen leaf of the Conclave?” Yggdrasil’s voice was steady, but held behind he voice was the fury of nature. Burdru was sweating as he spoke. “My lady, I am sorry for the crimes I have committed. I wanted to join the Izzet league. But I wasn’t sure if they would want me. I knew I had to bring something to them to research. Something to impress them.” “And you believed one of my leaves were the right item to give them.” “Yes, my lady.” “Even understanding that the leaves of Yggdrasil are sacred and brimming with power?” Burdru hesitated for a moment. “It was a mistake.” Yggdrasil smirked. “And one will shall no longer regret.” Burdru lifted his head hoping that he would be forgiven. But what he saw were vines lashing out from the walls. They twisted and turned, coiling around the large loxodon’s frame. He attempted to break free, but they had to tight a hold on him. They pulled him against the wall. Pumpeck and Thorfreyer an Pumpeck looked on in horror as they saw the flesh pf Burdru begin to turn to solid wood, melding with the wall. They locked eyes for the briefest moment before his entire head became solid wood. The creaking of the vines stopped, and the room was silent. A small leaf sprouted from Burdru once stood. “What has been stolen has now been returned.” Yggdrasil said. “I give you that leaf willingly, so that you may use it on your quest to return home.” Pumpeck shook off what she just witnessed. “You said that these leaves are sacred and powerful. Why give them to us?” “It is for the best. You do not belong in this world. It is possible that the longer you are here, the less stable this world, and your world become. And I know that you will guard this leaf with your lives.” “Hold on.” Said Thorfreyer. “If it’s so important that we go back to our world, why not give us the leaf without the hoops to jump through.” “Oh, dear.” Yggdrasil smiled. “I would have given you the leaf regardless. But If I can get something out of the exchange, why not seize the opportunity?” Thorfreyer did not appreciate being played in this way. But he knew better than to start a fight with a being like this. He plucked the leaf and stormed out the room. Pumpeck noticed and quickly bowed to Yggdrasil before hurrying after Thorfreyer. “Good luck.” They heard her yell down the corridor. They left the cavern and met with their group, holding up the leaf. “How did it go?” Asked Rum. “Let’s just go.” Said Thorfreyer as he held up the leaf. They made their way back to the zeppelin and didn’t realize until then that they may be stranded here. “Damn!” Yelled Thorfreyer. “Our pilot’s gone, and we have no way to get out of here aside from walking. And I don’t even know how to get back to base from here.” “Don’t worry.” Said Rum. “I watched him manning this thing on the way here. It will be a bumpy ride, but I think we can manage.” “I was watching too.” Said Pumpeck. “I think I can help out.” Together, Pumpeck and Rum managed to get the machine off the ground and make their way back to the Izzet League, with a leaf from Yggdrasil in tow. All that was left was getting the leaf to the Simic for a bit of reworking, and they would be free to return home.