#for abelas-inan

[evanhereonearth]

Thank you for opening prompts! I have one that has been bothering me for a long time, but i can't write it myself, so i need help( ...

Solas healing the unconscious Lavellan and helping and protecting her in her dream in his wolf form like in this codex by Adan.

https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Patient_Observations

I know I know this is pretty popular topic for fics and art, but it's actually canon and I love this idea soooo much... I need all the details I just can't resist

Interlude, Tarasyl'nin

Day One

It was not supposed to happen this way.

Solas fights to keep his visage still despite being the only person within twenty paces of the prisoner. She is, after all, the only one in the Chantry dungeon.

Her hand spits and sparks with the Anchor's power even now, flashing green light through the cell. Even with layers of earth and rock between Solas and the open sky, he does not need to look to know it responds to each and every one of the Breach's fits and starts.

It will kill her; it is only a matter of time.

Yet, somehow, it has not killed her yet.

For all his years and experience, Solas is at a loss.

She should not have been able to walk physically in the Fade, not one of these creatures of today's world. Even a mage, or what qualifies for one here. His lip curls with the thought; it is akin to calling an Orlesian poodle puppy a wolf. He has awoken in a time where every living soul simply thinks Orlesian poodle puppies are wolves.

Yet she is elven. Perhaps that can explain it. Some remnant of the People in this distant shadow.

Her body thrashes as the Breach expands, and Solas instinctively reaches out to take hold of her left hand. His mana reacts to the touch even as his skin bursts into tingles where their skin makes contact. The Anchor jerks with such violence that he can almost hear it screaming.

"Need a Templar over there, mage?" one of the guards calls out, perhaps alerted by the sudden burst of light from the Anchor.

"No," Solas replies shortly. "This is no new development. A Templar negating magic would only seek to mask her symptoms, and for there to be any hope of understanding, I must see her symptoms as they arise."

It will not be long before Adan returns from his rest break. The apothecary has also suggested Templar involvement. Solas grits his teeth with the frustration of the thing. He could easily be overruled if something here does not improve.

The Breach once more wobbles back into equillibrium, at least as much as such a thing can be said. Solas places his thumb on the prisoner's wrist.

Her heartbeat flutters in her pulse, fast as the beating wings of a bat clawing its way through the air. Solas removes his thumb, using it instead to push back first her left eyelid, then her right. Pupils still dilated, so black they engulf all but a ring of verdant moss green at the edges of her irises. They remain evenly blown, however. A small mercy that this woman at least escaped without a concussion.

No small feat, considering she tumbled approximately twenty feet out of a rift to hit the ground.

As usual, she responds to none of his minstrations.

The Anchor ought to be his, but Solas has long since learned the futility of clinging to what ought to be instead of what is. What is dictates what is possible to change.

What is stretches his patience and his fortitude as tight as the veil itself around the Breach. He stifles an ironic chuckle. His own handiwork, the veil, the product of his own cleverness battling with his relative inexperience with blood magic and pure desparation. Even a year after waking, he can scarce believe he succeeded--and even scarcer believe the price.

For now, it is moot. He is weak. He was never equal to his ancient foes, and he is not, apparently, equal to this modern enemy.

Nor is she.

Solas gazes upon the prisoner. He has avoided looking at her face, only allowing himself to see blurs of pale skin and a smattering of freckles cast with green the colour of her eyes in lines he does not wish to acknowledge.

But he must. Acknowledge what is.

Here is what is.

First: He failed to appropriately caluculate the possibility of his orb not killing Corypheus. Corypheus lives, Solas's orb is in his possession, and this Dalish woman somehow thwarted Corypheus's ritual to claim the Anchor.

Solas would be a fool not to be thankful for that twist of fate.

Second: The Dalish woman has survived, despite all odds to the contrary. Survived the blast by instinctively using the Anchor to tear open a rift into the Fade and close it behind her--there is little other possible explanation--and survived walking in the Fade even with her middling connection to it after millennia of this world leaching away everything that made the People his People.

Third: She lives still, and the Anchor, while spreading, while certain to kill her eventually, is not spreading as quickly as he thought it would.

Fourth: The Anchor is far from the only threat to her life. The human Chantry in all their blind hubris may well murder her out of their own hysterical fear; they may do the same to him if he cannot help her sufficiently to keep her alive long enough to attempt to seal the Breach.

Fifth: The Breach is an abomination. Solas cannot linger too long on the emotions of its effects; if he allows himself to feel the pain of every spirit torn through the rifts or the Breach itself, he will tear himself to pieces.

Sixth: This woman is the best and only chance they have to seal the Breach at all. The Anchor may consume her, but she is no longer expendable.

A final thought, more fancy than finality, is that ironically, she may also be his single best hope for surviving this calamity.

He forces himself to look upon her face.

Her features are delicate without being dainty, the grace of a rapier against one of the Seeker's broadswords. She carries forward the strong nose bridge of the Elvhen, high cheekbones, a jaw well-defined with a chin that almost makes her entire face appear heart-shaped. Her lashes flutter in her fitful sleep, crescents of black against her too-pale skin. Despite her flesh being sallowed by her body's struggle to live, her freckles stand out in warm relief. Not unlike his own, Solas supposes, a dusting of them, invisible even at a few paces, but up close, they soften her. It's oddly charming. A single darker freckle dots the upper right corner of her lip. Not far from there, the indentation of a dimple rests.

A fleeting thought hits him like a lightning strike, that if she were to smile, that dimple may bury her right into the heart of him.

Absurdity. Solas shakes off the thought.

Black hair tangles in waves and loose curls around her head, a single curl remaining defined just behind her left ear. A perfect ringlet, pristine despite her predicament.

An odd detail to notice.

He is avoiding the rest, but he must let himself see.

The green inked into her face. It dances across her cheekbones, up the bridge of her nose, fans out over her forehead. He's heard the guards snort and scoff at the "tree" on the "knife ear's" face, but Solas knows it is no tree.

Even the Dalish think it is a tree, branding themselves slaves in their ignorance. Fools. And she is, very obviously, a Dalish fool for doing the same.

But Mythal's vallaslin is no tree.

It had to be hers, did it not? Perhaps he could look upon any of the other Evanuris' blood writing without flinching, but Mythal's? One would think that after ten millennia of struggle, the pain of it would have subsided somewhat. Mythal is thousands of years dead.

Yet here she is again, reminding Solas of how deeply her bindings worked their way into the flesh he never wanted. His still bears the scar; even when he cast her out of his skin, he needed the reminder to never allow someone such power over him again.

Mythal's vallaslin is no tree. It is not even veins, blood or lyrium or otherwise, despite its resemblance. It is neither of those things.

It's him. It's every spirit like him.

Mythal who nearly emptied the Fade of its Wisdom, built bodies for all like him, branded them all with their own self-portraits. "We are the best of both physical and Fade," she told him once as she wheedled him into following her into the depths of despair and ruin. Out of love. Love she always professed to return, but like a mother overrun with children beyond counting, his place as her favourite mattered little when all were only tools to her.

Solas tightens his lips, staring down at the prisoner. He seldom allows himself to even think so candidly; his love for Mythal, her turning away over and over to become what he despised, the glimmers and scraps of hope she tossed him until that final dreadful day, the reminder of his failure to reach her. All this time.

His own vallaslin had hardly healed on his face before he knew it to be naught but a reminder of everything he'd given up, everything he'd lost. Everything he sacrificed.

And now here it is, branded again on unwitting skin.

It was not supposed to happen this way.

For a moment, Solas is not certain what he means. His own existence? The Anchor? Corypheus? This tragic creature sleeping before him?

He has no answers. He does not even know her name.

Only that he must save her life.

His mana stirs as he delves through her, seeking any remaining injuries that could impede the progress of her healing mind. If her body strengthens, perhaps she will wake.

For this moment, at least, they share a fate.

***

Thank you so so much for this prompt!!! I got carried away and will have to probably do a Part 2 and Part 3. >.>

My little hearrrrt.

[seffie-jade]

Melava inan enansal

ir su araval tu elvaral

u na emma abelas

in elgar sa vir mana

in tu setheneran din emma na

lath sulevin

lath araval ena

arla ven tu vir mahvir

melana ‘nehn

enasal ir sa lethalin

[liaragaming]

I already wrote Abelas mocking Solas for his and Inan’s wedding jewelry. I imagine the evanuris would go a lot further than mockery if they found out about "Fen’Harel's plaything."

Nope. If they're the assholes Solas says they are, I absolutely hate the idea of what they might do to her if they found out.

[abelasx]

They had a word for it in their language.

Banalhan. The Blight that had been killing their people for years; Dirthera was young when he'd started to fade. It had been centuries since Abelas had last known his father, but he remembered how his body withered, how his skin purpled in places, how it receded until hardly anything elvhen left about him. Abelas remembered how Oberon had wept for his friend, and the hand the King had placed on his shoulder when he'd told him he wasn't alone. He'd all but forgotten the song entirely, as was Abelas's way until Ikaros uttered its name once more.

Suledin. Ikaros said. Endure.

Abelas had known nymphs who'd wept themselves to stone, dryads that sank into their roots and never rose from the dirt again. Abelas had started to understand the sort of grief that left a statue in the place where a person used to be.

"Melava inan enansal," Abelas muttered as Ikaros dried his eyes and the older of the two looked down at Icarus in his lap. "ir su travel tu elvaral," he ran his hands over the mess of mattered feathers as Icarus quaked. "u no emma abelas," a quiver ran up the sorrowful spine of the elvhen, he'd carved out this shape for himself so long ago he'd forgotten that he'd ever gone by another name. "in elgar sa vir mana," he sniffed as Abelas brought the back of his wrist under his nose. "in tu setheneran din emma an."

'Time was once a blessing, but long journeys are made longer when alone within. Take spirit from long ago, but do not dwell in lands no longer yours.'

"Lath sulevin, lath araval ena," Abelas was still a child when the Blight took one of his fathers from him. One was taken without any choice and the other left on his own accord. There was a reason why, since then, there were claw marks in everything that had ever been dragged away from Abelas. Why he fought so hard. "arla ven tu vir mahvir, melana 'nehn, enasal ir sa lethalin."

'Be certain in need, and the path will emerge to a home tomorrow, and time will again be the joy it once was.'

Time did not care if Abelas was ready or not, regardless of what any of them may have wanted, the Blight would try and kill them just the same. There was a time to grieve and a time to press ahead. They were elvhen, they swallowed the pain with the years and pushed forward. Time would not stand by and patiently wait and watch him as he mourned; Ikaros couldn't say it, so Abelas would be certain enough for both of them.

"You're going to be fine," Abelas laid his hands on the owlbear's coat, he couldn't control anything except what was in front of him. Vallas was awake now, circling overhead but close. "he's going to be fine." There were witches and waygates and airships and flying mounts and probably more. One way or another, they were getting to Blackrock.

"We'll get there," Ikaros had no doubt about that – there had to be someone, or something, that could get them there. Even the shadows of the night would be dangerous, and he and Saleba could only go so quickly through them. Ikaros watched as Gwaern crawled to be closer to Vallas and Abelas, the little obsidian dragon not entirely enjoying the sorrow that he was feeling between the two.

"Abelas," Ikaros looked at his brother now, and perhaps this was yet another time that Abelas couldn't run his way through his feelings, through what was taking place. Elvhen were emotional creatures, so much like the fey that surrounded their gate. Too often he knew his brother to slam his fists down on the rocks, to shatter anything that would dare try and take something away from him. A gentle soul and a gentle heart, and one that Ikaros would never lie to. "We have to try. For Icarus, right? If we don't try, then what he did here, for you, for me – we have to try."

He used his free hand to wipe the tears from his brother's cheek. Ikaros felt his own eyes burn, but he couldn't do that – not now. His resolve had to carry through, but there was doubt. It crept through his chest as he thought about how far they had to go. "I swear I will try with everything I have to make sure nothing happens to him, Abelas." Sorrow – sorrow in his brother's name – unfair with how much joy the two brought to life. "Suledin, Abelas." Endure. "Come on. Get up. Icarus is strong, he'll fight for you more than himself. So show him that we can make it. Believe in it."

[tallowes]

i’m super tempted to also add my twin/trip hawkes Hollis and Dalen which would basically be adding an evil soccermom and a hipster to the fray so....

[elvenprincessv]

Dragon Age Inquisition Elvish

hahren na melana sahlin=elder your time is come

emma ir abelas=now I am filled with sorrow

souver'inan isala hamin=weary eyes need resting

vhenan him dor'felas=heart has become grey and slow

in uthenera na revas=in waking sleep is freedom

vir sulahn'nehn=we sing rejoice

vir dirthera=we tell the tale

vir samahl la numin=we laugh and cry

vir lath sa'vunin=we love one more day

Melava inan enansal=Time was once a blessing

ir su araval tu elvaral=but long journeys are made longer

u na emma abelas=when alone within

in elgar sa vir mana=Take spirit from the long ago

in tu setheneran din emma na=but do not dwell in lands no longer yours

lath sulevin=Be certain in need

lath araval ena=and the path will emerge

arla ven tu vir mahvir=to a home tomorrow

melana ‘nehn=and time will again

enasal ir sa lethalin=be the joy it once was

Andaran atish’an=I dwell in this place

An'daran Atish'an=My home is your home You will not come to harm while you are here

Aneth ara=My safe place

Ar lasa mala revas=You are free

Ar lath ma=I love you

Asha'belannar=The Woman of Many Years

Bellanaris Din'an Heem=Make you dead

Bellanaris Din'an=eternal death

Dareth shiral=Safe journey

Dirth'ena enasalin=knowledge that led to victory

Dirthara ma=May you learn

Ara seranna ma=Excuse me

Fen'Harel enansal=The Dread Wolf’s blessing

Ghilan'him banal'vhen=The path that leads astray

Halam'shivanas=The sweet sacrifice of duty

Ir abelas=I am sorry

Ir abelas ma vhenan=I am filled with sorrow for your loss my heart

Ir tel'him=I’m me again

Lathbora viran=the path to a place of lost love

Ma ghilana mir din'an=Guide me into death

Ma melava halani=You helped me

Mala suledin nadas=Now you must endure

Ma nuvenin=As you wish

Ma vhenan=My heart

Ma serannas=My thanks

Ma halani=Help me

Melana en athim las enaste=Now let humility grant favor

Tel'abelas=I’m not sorry

Tel garas solasan=Come not to a prideful place

Telanadas=Nothing is inevitable

Vir'abelasan=The place of the way of sorrows

Tarasyl'an Te'las=the place where the sky was held back

Fenedhis lasa=Go suck a wolf’s dick

Dar'eth shiral=Have a safe journey

Isalan hima sa i’na=I lust to become one with you

Isalan hima na=I lust to become you

Isalan gara suin na=I lust to come into you

Isalan gara suin na=I want to come into you

Isalan ma gara suin em=I lust for you to come into me

Isalan ma gara suin em=I want you to come into me

Vera em su tarasyl=Take me to the sky

Juveran na su tarasyl=I will take you to the sky

Isalan dara su tarasyl i’na =I want to go to the sky with you

isalan dara su tarasyl i'na=I want to go to the sky with you

Isalan dera na aron tuelan=I will touch you like a god/goddess

Ar'na=me and you

ar'na=me and you

Fen'harel ver na=Dread wolf take you

fen'harel ver na=dread wolf take you

Nuvas ema ir'enastela=Thank you May you have great blessings

Nuvas ema ir’enastela=Thank you May you have great blessings

nuvas ema ir’enastela=thank you May you have great blessings

nuvas ema ir'enastela=thank you May you have great blessings

Sathem lasa halani=Pleased to help

sathem lasa halani=pleased to help

lasa halani=pleased to help

Lasa halani=Pleased to help

Dinathe'dirthelan=Necromancer

Lin'thanelan=Blood mage

Ena'sal'in'amelan=Arcane Warrior

Ladarelan'elgar=Spirit Healer

Dun'himelan=Shape shifter

Panathe'virelan=Battle mage

Uralas'falon=Keeper

Ala'syl'ise'man'thanelan=Elemental mage

Sou'alas'rajelan=Force mage

Sou'i’ve'an'thanelan=Rift Mage

Erelan=Dreamer

Erelanen=Dreamers

Erelan dun'himelan=Skilled Dream mage

[sinsbymanka]

Here’s my next @rare-egg-hunt​ prompt! This is for: Surprises.

Title: Cheating the Dread Wolf Chapter Title: Cheating Destiny Ship: Female Cadash/Solas/Varric Rating: E (smut chapters marked with *) Chapters: 6/13 Word Count: 24,593/42k Additional Tags:

Summary: A Story in 12 Prompts for the Rare Egg Hunt 2021 Event. Maria Cadash hung up the Inquisitor’s mantle for the Viscountess’ crown, but she’s unable to stop her desperate and impossible struggle to stop Fen'Harel from destroying the world both her husband and daughter inhabit. The fact Varric, Maria, and Solas are all madly in love with each other just means she may have enough of an edge to win this game.

Chapter Summary: Solas spends two months hiding from Maria and Varric until he receives a note that changes everything.

Read on AO3

Solas knows he cannot ever return to Kirkwall.

He chastises himself for his lapse in judgement daily. When he received Cole’s message, Solas dropped everything to run to the rescue of Marguerite, and in his absence his operations had ground to a halt.

He ignores the pointed look from Abelas, the whispers from his agents that it is a pity Kirkwall’s heir recovered from her fever, leaving the former Inquisitor free to throw herself back into their path again. It’s well known that she cares for her child more than anything, and if the girl had died…

The thought makes Solas’ blood run cold.

He does not regret his decision to save her. He will never regret it, the same way he will never wish he hadn’t saved her mother. Maria, Marguerite, Varric… they are safe and whole in Kirkwall where they belong, and Solas…

Solas has once more returned to his place as the wolf outside their door, but he has never come so close to abandoning his mission, his people, as he did that night. The sweet lure of Maria’s embrace, the soft rumble of Varric’s words in his ear… they haunt Solas. He waits for their memory to fade, waits for his certainty to return.

It does not.

Instead he spends two months torturing himself every moment he is alone. He pours over his reports from Kirkwall, reading the inane chatter of the city as if looking for some secret message. They come directly to him, unseen by any other agent, and he learns of foiled assassination attempts, impossible rumors of an impending pregnancy (cruel, in fact, since the damage caused by his anchor robbed her of any additional children) that he refuses to pass on, alongside the mundane details of state banquets and royal purchases.

When he knows she has left Kirkwall, he traces the path of Maria’s journeys over maps, notes the way she stays closer to the city as if frightened to leave it. He takes advantage of her worry, her concern, to push his plans harder. All the while, he has never felt more like the monster the world claims he is.

It all crashes to a halt when he discovers one message tucked in among all the rest. It is rolled just as his agents roll theirs, tied with the same string, but written in a hand so familiar that he aches with it.

I need to see you. Wycome. The celebrations to install the new city council. Come find me. It’s urgent.

She doesn’t sign it. She doesn’t need to. Solas knows her handwriting better than he knows his own. There’s still the slight tremor at the end of each word, the lingering signs of Maria learning to write with her remaining hand.

He knows he should not go to her. Knows that every time he does, it only makes the pain worse. He deserves each moment of agony, but she has suffered enough at his hands already, and will somehow suffer more. He should allow her to have her peace while she can.

Instead he reaches for the reports that will tell him about the upcoming inauguration in Wycome.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Vir’abelasan

~A story detailing the repercussions of Tash drinking from the Well of Sorrows~

Tagging @darlingrutherford​ 

“I can feel it... it’s... hungry.” Tash shuddered. He winced, the echoes from the Fade swirling around him. He had always felt the comforting presence of his guardian spirits swirling around him, but now... they were outnumbered. There was a throng of spirits out there, angry and vicious. But a presence beyond that nestled in the depths of the Well. 

Morrigan scoffed. “How could you possibly know that?”

Tash raised an eyebrow, although he kept his eyes fixed on the Well, as if it might reach out and grab him with a watery hand. “Abelas said that the priests put their will into the Well, right? What if it’s some sort of magical compulsion? A geas or something?”

Solas gave a soft noise of affirmation. “It is said that Mythal’s priests were exceptionally powerful, granted magic by their mistress…”

The witch seemed disconcerted that the child before her had thought of that and she hadn’t. “It is... possible. But that is all the more reason that I should take the power of the Well. I assume the risks.”

“The risks... and the rewards.” Vivienne scoffed. “I would sooner trust the Well to the false Warden than to the witch, my dear.”

“And you would have a child risk binding himself to the lingering will of elf priests?” Morrigan sneered. “And I thought that Madame de Fer could sink no lower.”

“Careful, darling, your famous husband isn’t here to mind your tongue for you.” Vivienne said tartly.

Blackwall huffed. “Can you two quit bickering? This isn’t a tea party.”

Tash nodded. “Play nice.”

Gale knelt next to him, putting an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “What will it be, Tash? I hate to rush you, but Corypheus is coming, and we’ll need to get out of here.”

Tash glanced at Cole. “Can you sense the others? Are they safe?”

Cole closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes. Aura and Lottie are helping them take Samson. But… I can hear him.”

“We should go, then.” Tash sighed. “I wish Henry was here. He’d know what I should do.”

Morrigan clicked her tongue. “My husband is from the same world. He has told me that often the events here are changed from his foreknowledge. The choice is yours alone, young Inquisitor.”

Tash gave a soft whimper, his gold eyes looking from Morrigan to Solas to where Abelas had vanished, and finally to the Well. “It’s mine. I’ll drink.”

And despite Morrigan’s protests, despite Solas expressing his misgivings, Tash waded into the Well, the water rising up to his chest. He did not look back as he moved to the center of the Well of Sorrows, but his voice carried clearly to the others. “Mythal… if you’re real… mythal’enaste. Er… I don’t know the elvhen for it, but please… just don’t hurt me.”

And as soon as he reached the center, he shuddered, and then went limp, slipping into the pool as though he was a marionette and his strings snapped.

The Well exploded, water turning to dense blue fog, swirling around and around where Tash had fallen. Solas and Vivienne held up a barrier as Gale and Blackwall attempted to approach, unnerved by Cole’s mutterings of “He’s talking to her… she shouldn’t be there.”

Blackwall went charging forward as soon as the barriers were dispelled, Tash lying still at the bottom of the empty, dry Well. “Lad! Lad, are you alright?”

He scooped the boy into his arms, trying to determine what to do. And Tash’s eyes flew open.

They were blue. An unnatural, glowing blue that seemed to be bleeding from his irises across the rest of his eyes. Glowing blue lines etched themselves across his skin and up around his horns in a mimicry of the pattern on Abelas’ face.

”Vallaslin.” Gale murmured in awe. “Fenhedhis.”

Tash took a shuddering breath, but a strange chorus followed his voice, the whispering bass and tenor tones of men and an alto tone of a woman. His eyes, now completely a glowing blue, flashed as he stood and looked at Solas, head tilting.

The elf gasped and reeled back.

“Solas.” Tash said softly, in a strange way, as if he had not seen the elf for a long time. The chorus repeated his speech, just slightly out of sync, a few soft trailing whispers after his mouth had closed. “Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris. Emma enasal, lethallin.”

But any response was lost in the arrival of Corypheus. Tash smiled cryptically and waved his hand toward the eluvian, and it shimmered at his command, opening the gateway. He turned his back on the rapidly approaching Elder One and moved at a stately pace towards the mirror, blue light streaming behind him to become water that formed the shape of an elf woman, rising up to combat the darkspawn magister.

Morrigan chanced one glance at the boy as they tumbled from the eluvian, safe in Skyhold. His eyes were still bleeding blue, his face lit up with the unnatural light.

Something was wrong.

- - - 

“It’s been three days! There is something terribly wrong with Tash!” Blackwall roared. And he was right. The young Inquisitor had not left his room in the intervening hours, not eaten a scrap of food nor a sip of drink. He had launched a terrible and powerful display of magic upon exiting the eluvian, breathing an unnatural fire in all the colors of the rainbow, blue light manifesting around him as a second pair of horns.

Awful sounds came from behind his door (he would not let anyone in, not even Gale), sometimes inane singing, and sometimes a babble of rapid-fire Elvhen, and most disturbingly, screams utterly devoid of the strange echo Tash’s voice had taken on, consisting only of the child’s cries. Cole had only approached the stairs to the Inquisitor’s tower when he collapsed, clutching his head in agony, repeating over and over, “Get her out get her out get her out get her out get her out.”

Varric had sent forward inquiries to Tash’s status, ones that Morgan could not answer. Morrigan had stated that there would be shouts from the Well, but this was something more. Even Henry couldn’t answer the question of what was happening.

“Solas…” Henry whispered to the elf, in the dead of night on the third day. “Mythal… is alive. Well, more like a shadow. Is it possible that she’s… possessing Tash?”

The elf cursed. “Why didn’t you say this before?”

“I didn’t want to change anything!”

Solas grabbed Henry’s wrist and dragged him up to the Inquisitor’s quarters, hurling open the door with magic, forcing their way past Gale, who had sat at the door with red eyes from worry and sleep deprivation.

Tash was perched on the railing of the balcony, staring at them with eyes that were now normal, except for the fact that they were ice blue. The vallaslin had vanished. And Tash cackled, the sound having no business coming from such a youthful throat.

“Mythal. Let him go.”

Tash leaned over the railing and let go.

“No!” Henry screamed, charging forward. But Tash had simply vanished. The Outworlder turned to Solas. “Kieran. Morrigan’s son. He’s in danger!”

 - - -

Kieran sighed as he walked away from his mother. He hadn’t been able to sleep since the Inquisitor returned. Mother usually let him stay up if he had nightmares, and he would sometimes play among the magic lights glowing in the night while she studied in the garden.

Morrigan felt a cold wind tingle the back of her neck and shuddered, suddenly realizing that she had lost sight of her son. “Kieran?” she called, standing up.

- - -

The Inquisitor was… different. He loomed out of the shadows, a finger pressed over his lips. “Hello, Kieran.”

“Your eyes are blue.”

They were. Tash didn’t have blue eyes. He was bright, and happy, and had gold eyes. This was… something else. This wasn’t Tash.

“I want to show you something, Kieran. Something amazing.”

“I… I don’t think so.”

Not-Tash’s face twisted in anguish for a moment and he looked terrified. “Run, Kieran!” he screamed. But almost instantly he resumed his oddly Tranquil-like state. “No, stay. I can help you, Kieran. I can stop the dreams. Just take my hand.”

“Kieran? Kieran!” Morrigan’s voice drifted on the wind, sounding oddly far away.

Not-Tash smiled. “I can help you, but you need to come with me. Now.”

- - - 

Morgan breathed a sigh of relief, even as he ran with his wife through the Fade, accompanied by Henry, the boy from his world, and Blackwall and Gale. Morrigan had been frantic, unable to find Kieran, until Henry had shouted that he had been led into the Fade, through the eluvian. Which technically shouldn’t have been possible. But his fatherly instinct made him relax just a bit when he saw his child.

Although, seeing Kee accompanied by Tash and … oh no.

“Ah. Morgan. Long time no see. Still consorting with my daughter, then?” Flemeth chuckled. Tash spoke with her, their expressions identical.

Morrigan gasped. “Then… you…are Mythal?”

Gale immediately knelt in shock, and Blackwall yanked him to his feet. Mythal and Tash looked on in approval.

“See, girl?” they said. “Those are manners.”

“You will not have my son!” she yelled, advancing.

Tash and Mythal held out their arms, and extending from Tash came a pulse that rocked the Fade, barring Morrigan’s way with spikes of crackling green energy.

“This boy-Inquisitor is a Dreamer, you know. And he gave himself to my service because you couldn’t convince him otherwise.” Mythal-Tash taunted. The spikes faded. “But you need not worry. I mean neither him nor my grandson any harm. Merely to… exchange.”

She knelt to Kieran, and they witnessed her remove the Old God’s soul from him, promising no more dreams and letting him run to Morrigan and Morgan. Then she turned to Tash, who stilled.

“You came to me, honoring the old ways. With a clear mind and pure heart, you petitioned me for aid and drank from my Well. Though you are not of the People or my blood, you are mine, and I shall strike down your enemies for all your days. You have the knowledge from the Well, but now I shall grant you the wisdom to contain it. The voices shall not overwhelm you.”

She waved her hand over the Inquisitor’s face, and he sighed. Blue light flashed from his eyes before they faded back to gold, the only sign of his ordeal a thin blue ring just around each pupil.

“The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, boy. And it must be treated with caution.”

Tash’s eyes widened. “You… you hear them too?”

“They are the voices from Beyond, Tash. Pay them heed, for they protect you even as they evaded the grasp of the People’s gods.”

- - - 

And they exited the Fade, where Solas was waiting. “Holding open the gateway,” he had said. The elf looked to Tash. “Tash… are you well?”

“I think so…” Tash said, pensive. “I hope so. I’m worried, though. Flemeth…Mythal… she has power over me now. I’m worried about what she can do with it. But… either way, I know what we have to do next. I can hear the voices of the Well, but I’m in control. I can shut them off.”

Solas looked pale and deeply concerned, but nodded, his eyes scanning Tash’s face as if he could still see the vallaslin etched on his face in glowing blue lines. “I shall help you, Tash. I promise… I shall free you...”

[dreadwxlf]

💀 for pandora

~Send 💀 for my muse to discover your muse’s dead body~

CHILD DEATH TW

  ~   His blood runs cold as he sees the small body lying in the dirt. “ No... ”. In flash he has fade stepped to Pandora’s side, and falls to his knees beside her. No no no no no. She can’t be -- she’s only injured, that’s all. With trembling hands, he reaches out to touch her. An anguished gasp leaves his lips: she is ice cold, even through her fur cloak. She feels so fragile and broken as takes her into his arms. He lets out a choked sob as she falls limp against him. ~

  ~   “ Da’fen...da’fen, viane mar inan! ” he begs. She does not respond. He sobs once more as he squeezes her to his chest, as if trying to will the life back into her. His tears drip onto her pale face, washing away the blood and dirt. There is no shallow breath, no pulse of the Anchor deep within her body...Pandora is dead. His daughter is dead. The realization finally hits him, and he begins to wail, cradling her to him. ~

 ~    “ Pandora...ma'da’sa...ir abelas...ir abelas. ” He repeats the words over and over again. ~

  ~   He is not sure how much time he has spent in the dirt, rocking her small body. Hours, perhaps. It doesn’t matter. He has wrapped her up tight in her little wolf cloak, the one that she loved so. She had been so happy when he had presented it to her. That day she had made him take a walk with her around the entire stronghold so everyone could see their matching cloaks. She wore the little thing everywhere, proud to own something that resembled her father’s. The corners of his lips lift ever so slightly at the memory. The smile is only a flicker though before it is gone. ~

  ~   Solas rises to leave, tucking Pandora’s body under his own wolf’s cloak. He will find the people who had killed her - he would make them suffer. That was his first task. Then, command his agents to find another power source to tear down the Veil, no matter the cost. He already had something in mind. Red lyrium was drastic, yes, but he didn’t care what happened to him anymore. This world would burn. There was nothing good left it it anyway. ~

[himluv]

Devotion

Oof. This is my last one. And, uh... it hurts. Solavellan for Dragon 4ge Day, for the prompt “Endings”.

I’m sorry...

TW: Major Character Death

Also: This is my interpretation/expectations for where we’re headed as a ship. I’m going down with this ship y’all, and where I’m going, there won’t be enough tissues in the world to dry my tears. Buckle up.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Why did his plans always veer so tragically far off course? He was meant to be the savior of Thedas, of Arlathan, of the People. He would right his wrongs and reset the course of history, restoring order and balance to a world impossibly off-kilter. He was meant to be the martyr, the sacrifice to atone for sins he had not foreseen.

But, yet again, his foresight proved faulty.

He knew the Inquisitor would find him. Knew there was nothing he could do to keep her from doing all she could to stop him. Despite it all, his proclamations, his obvious intent, his pleas that she leave him to his dark endeavors, she still believed she could win. She still believed she could convince him to abandon his purpose.

He just hadn’t realized the lengths to which she would go to save him. How could he? In all his years, the millennia spread out behind him was a tapestry of judgement, foolish pride, and betrayal. He could never have fathomed that someone could care for him with such depth, with a devotion so pure it proved reckless.

Fatal, even.

Her hand on his cheek pulled him from those thoughts. Her eyes, wide and wet with pain, anchored him in this terrible moment.

“Vhenan,” she said. The word struck him deep enough that he flinched. She rarely used the term, preferring to simply use his name. Now she said it with regret for all the times she didn’t. All the times she wouldn’t.

His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer against him as he rocked her. “What have I done?”

She shook her head, but it was a feeble gesture. She was losing strength quickly. “You don’t get credit for this one.” She smiled and it fractured into a wince. “You carry enough guilt without borrowing mine.”

“Riallan.” He stroked her hair, searching for words but all of them turned to ash in his mouth, weightless. Impotence, cloying and clinging, boiled up in him until his shock turned to anger. “That blow was meant for me.” He closed his eyes, unable to look into the vibrant green of hers any longer. “I could have withstood it.” He didn’t know if that was true, but it was far more likely that he would survive the attack than she would.

As ever, she saw through him. “Perhaps,” she said. Her voice grew frail, the words like glass on her lips. “But I could not withstand watching you die.” She shrugged and hissed with pain. Like it was so simple a thing, the decision to sacrifice herself in order to save him.

Around them, the Crossroads were a blur of chaos. The Agents of Fen’Harel fought against the remaining forces of the Inquisition, a stalling tactic on his part. A distraction on the part of the Inquisition. Busy the troops so that Riallan and her team could get close enough to stop him.

He supposed it had worked, though he hoped to every spirit in the Fade that this had not been her plan all along.

Throughout the Crossroads the Eluvians flared and roiled, the magic within them snapping and crackling, demanding release. He was so close. All he had to do was steal that gathered power, take it into himself and then step through the Veil and into the Fade. The Seal would be there, and behind it all the ‘Gods’ he’d locked away. The Eluvians’ power would eat him up, much like his mark had gnawed at the Inquisitor, but he would release it. Bring it all forth to bear on the Seal and release those Old Gods on the world. They would ravage and remake it, bloody and terrible and new.

The time had come. All his planning led to this moment. He simply had to go to the nearest Eluvian, put his hand to its glass, and absorb the magic. The fight was over. He had won. All he had to do was let go of his vhenan and finish what he had started.

Her hand was still on his cheek, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone to wipe at his tears. With what little breath she had left, his vhenan sang to him, her voice hitched and shaking.

“Melava inan enansal, ir su aravel tu elvaral u na emma abelas.”

It was not the first time he’d heard her sing. She’d done it often in the early mornings, soft and sweet in their tent when she thought he still slept. But, he had never heard this song before.

“In elgar sa vir mana, in tu setheneran din emma na.”

She might as well have written it for him alone. A fresh wave of grief rolled through him, washing away his anger and leaving him powerless. He could no sooner leave her now than he could have stopped Corypheus all those years ago.

“Tel’dan’latha, vhenan.” She brushed away his tears even as she shed her own. “Ame dirthem ane, var lath vir suledin.”

He nodded, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “And so it did.”

The blood blossomed crimson on the emerald fabric of her Keeper’s Robes, and though his strength had returned, it was spread too thin. He could not heal her with his power alone, not while the Eluvians seethed around them.

The Eluvians…

He blinked, surprised at his own sudden inspiration. He looked down at her, at the waxy pallid skin around her eyes, and the too red color of her lips. But, despite the feverish shine to her eyes, she still saw him. She hadn’t left him yet.

“You’re right, vhenan,” he said. The words poured from him, confessions he’d hidden from for too long. “I was wrong. Again. Still.” He shook his head. “I see that now.” He kissed her and he was surprised at the force with which she returned his affections. “I know what I have to do.”

“Solas?” Her eyes widened, panicked as he gently moved her off of his lap. “What are you doing?”

“Saving you. The only way I can.” He knelt over her and pressed a hand to her cheek. “Ar lath ma, vhenan. Never doubt that.”

She hissed in pain but nodded. “Ar lath ma, Solas. I never have.”

He smiled at that, and somewhere in the expression she saw his plan. By the time she called after him to stop, he had already strode away from her. He reached the Eluvian, tall and furious with glacial blue light boiling in the frame. All he had to do was put a single finger to it, and he would consume the magic that connected them.

It would be enough.

He pressed his palm to the pane and hundreds of magical mirrors fell silent simultaneously. The Eluvians glowed, but the roiling energy calmed once more. The sudden change brought the fighting to a halt as confused Inquisition Agents and his own forces turned to look at him. But he hardly noticed.

Solas’ entire awareness shrank to where his palm trembled on the Eluvian. He screamed, the sound shattering the unnatural calm, as impossible amounts of power flowed into him. It burned, like the fires of Elgar’nan himself, up his arm and into his chest, consuming and overwhelming his own well of magic. Then it froze, icy and sharp, at first blissfuly numb and then aching. Then lightning, crackling and shocking, explosive in his veins.

Every sort of magic the Evanuris had used, pooled together to forge the Eluvians in the early days of Arlathan roared through him, scorching and searing and sundering him from the inside out.

He expected it to fade once he’d absorbed it all. Instead the Eluvians just shut down, going dark and leaving the Crossroads lit by the pale, preternatural light of the Fade. The Eluvian he touched fell dormant and repulsed him with a shock so violent he was knocked to his knees.

Still no one moved.

He stood, blue smoke curling up from his skin as he turned to look at Riallan. She wasn’t moving, the stillness clenching at his heart. Was he too late?

His eyes glowed with power, the fury of the contained magical forces a hurricane within him. Every moment he held that power was agony, each step a unique misery, like a thousand giants were pulling him apart and crushing him at the same time.

But he took those faltering, torturous steps to fall on his knees beside her. Dimly he noticed she spoke to him, her lips barely moving, but he couldn’t hear her over the roar of energy that thrummed in his ears. He knew her well enough that he didn’t need to hear her words.

“It’s the only way, vhenan,” he said.

She winced away from him while around them soldiers and agents flinched and covered their ears. Even as the power ate away at him, he marveled at the fact his voice had rendered his foes useless, until her hand found his face. Her touch was a balm to the feverish heat of his skin, sweet relief that he leaned into.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. Her brow furrowed, her green eyes wide and frightened. Not for herself, but for him. Her adversary, Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf. Solas.

Because in the end, that was who he was to her. In the end, it was her refusal to see him as anyone or anything else that saved Thedas.

He pressed his hands to her abdomen, ignoring the warm, sticky sensation of her robes. Though the magic clamored to be released, he only let a trickle pour through his fingers and into the Inquisitor’s failing body. He feared that too much at once would destroy her, just as surely as it was destroying him.

It was slow, excruciating work, holding the magic back and forcing it to do his will. The original plan had only called for him to gather the energy and then unleash it upon the Seal. This… this was harder.

He grit his teeth, fought to keep his hands steady, and still sweat beaded on his brow. But color returned to the Inquisitor’s cheeks and her breathing came easier beneath his palms. He watched as his vhenan revived at his efforts, and knew that the pain and struggle would be worth it. For once in his life, he’d managed to do something right.

He took a step back from her, putting distance between them, committing her shocked and relieved, face to his memories. Just in case he would still have them wherever his spirit would roam. It would be no small comfort to see her face, alive and proud and shining with love, for the rest of his eternity.

Then he released the remaining power of the Eluvians. First came the lightning, streaking through his blood and into the air, colliding back into mirrors across the Crossroads. Then the glacial cold, fogging his breath and threatening to bring him to his knees once more. Last came the fire, hot and burning like a sun behind his eyelids as the power soared back to its home. There was more screaming, his again, before he collapsed and the Crossroads burst into action.

“Solas!” Riallan’s arms caught him before he hit the hard ground. She sank down with him, her voice blessedly strong in his ears. Whole. Her hand on his face again, anchoring him as his focus dwindled. “Stay with me, vhenan,” she said. She cradled him, their roles suddenly reversed.

He smiled. “Say it again.” His voice was his own once more. The pain from a moment before was gone, and the nothingness that followed it was perfection. On some level he knew he should be concerned, but she was alive, holding him again, so he couldn’t quite manage it.

“Dorian! Help me!” She looked down at him, new tears filling her eyes. “Say what again? Vhenan?”

He nodded.

“I’ll never use your name again, if you’ll just stay with me, vhenan.”

He chuckled at that. He felt light, thin in her arms. There was no more guilt to weigh him down, and nothing hurt. For the first time since before he entered Uthenera Solas was at peace. It’d been so long he almost didn’t recognize the sensation.

Dorian appeared in his line of sight, the mage checking his vitals. He gave Riallan a confused look. “Nothing seems wrong.”

Because nothing was, Solas thought. He recalled her face at the moment she realized he’d healed her, brought her back from what should have been guaranteed death. That he chose her life over the rebirth of the world. How awed she’d looked. How pleased and scared and proud of him she’d been. When was the last time someone had been proud of him?

“Dirth ma, vhenan,” she said, calling him back to the present. “What’s happening?”

He had to think about it, which he noted should also be troubling. What was happening? Right, the Eluvians. “I used the gathered strength of the Evanuris to save you,” he said.

“The Eluvians?”

He nodded. “I was going to use it to release them and the Old Gods but,” he tried to adjust in her arms, but found he couldn’t move. That was concerning. He swallowed back the fear, for her sake. “You made me see.”

She glanced at Dorian, who shrugged. “See what, vhenan?”

“That, despite all my worst efforts, this world was better than anything I could have made.” He blinked, the numb nothingness turning to an uncomfortable chill. He was running out of time. “You cared more for this world than anyone in Arlathan ever did.” He swallowed at the emotion caught in his throat. “You cared more for me, as well.”

She bit back a sob. “But what’s happening to you?”

He cleared his throat, his voice going frail on his tongue. “The power is too much for any one being to contain. Even one such as me. There is a cost, one I am happy to pay.”

Her hand tightened around his, and he was glad he could still feel it. “The Eluvians took your power,” she said.

He smiled. “Clever, vhenan. Always so clever.”

“So, you’re mortal now?” Dorian asked.

Solas tried to shake his head, but couldn’t. “No,” he said. “It’s not like severing a connection to the Fade. My magic was sacrificed. Removed. Without it, my spirit cannot remain.”

His breath came shallow, his lungs failing as his body died around him. They were out of time.

“Vhenan,” he said. “Go to Skyhold. I sent,” he gasped, “a gift. Explains everything.” He gave her a shaky smile. “Just in case.”

She made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and held him close. “Ar lath ma, vhenan,” she chanted, rocking him as he had rocked her only moments ago.

He looked up at her, unwilling and unable to look anywhere else. That her face would be the last thing he saw, he arms the last he felt, her voice and those words the last he ever heard soothed his soul.

The last thing Solas did was smile.

He did not die alone.

Elvhen Translations: Melava inan enansal  ir su aravel tu elvaral u na emma abelas in elgar sa vir mana in tu setheneran din emma na Time was once a blessing but long journeys are made longer when alone within. Take spirit from the long ago but do not dwell in lands no longer yours.  (From the Elvhen song “Suledin”) Tel’dan’latha, vhenan Do not grieve/weep, vhenan Ane dirthem ame, var lath vir suledin I told you, our love will endure/last/survive Ar lath ma I love you

Dirth ma Speak to/tell me (lit. Speak you)

[minwrathous]

Suledin (Endure)

Melava inan enansal ir su aravel tu elvaral u na emma abelas in elgar sa vir mana in tu setheneran din emma na lath sulevin lath araval ena arla ven tu vir mahvir melana ‘nehn enasal ir sa lethalin

from Dragon Age: The World of Thedas Volume 1

[tennyo-elf]

*All From canon sources*

Songs and Rhymes 

Pain & Bane

Heart-shaped leaves with veins of green: Elfroot, to ease the pain.

Flat-capped and gray that grows in the clay: Blightcap, the hunter’s bane.

Spindly with thorns like a great demon’s horns: Felandaris, marking the Veil.

Loose-leafed and tall with a purple stall: Deathroot, to make minds frail.

Passing By

Tighten the rig with the Hearthkeeper’s knot Topsail, staysail, and main The traces tie to the girth and the collar and the collar is tied to the rein

Say thrice the prayer to Ghilan’nain To quicken the white halla’s tread Break camp before the last star has faded To chase the bright day ahead

A thousand miles beneath the wheels Sails against the sky Swifter than a dragon’s flight The People are passing by

The rein you must hold in your left hand In the right hand, your dagger or bow If the shemlen should strike on your journey Send them to Falon’Din below

The path we beat is the path that we walked To flee the Tevinter slums Now we fly on wheels and wings And hoofbeats are our drums

A thousand miles beneath the wheels Sails against the sky Swifter than the fall of night The People are passing by

Mir Da’len Somniar

Elgara vallas, da'len Melava somniar Mala taren aravas Ara ma'desen melar

Iras ma ghilas, da'len Ara ma'nedan ashir Dirthara lothlenan'as Bal emma mala dir

Tel'enfenim, da'len Irassal ma ghilas Ma garas mir renan Ara ma'athlan vhenas Ara ma'athlan vhenas

Suledin

Melava inan enansal ir su aravel tu elvaral u na emma abelas in elgar sa vir mana in tu setheneran din emma na

lath sulevin lath araval ena arla ven tu vir mahvir melana ‘nehn enasal ir sa lethalin

Where Willows Wail

Tel’enara bellana bana’vhenadahl, Sethen’a ir san’shiral, mala tel’halani Ir sa’vir te’suledin var bana’vallaslin, Vora’nadas san banal’him emma abel revas. Ir tela’ena glandival, vir amin tel’hanin. Ir tela las ir Fen halam, vir am’tela’elvahen.

Food

Dalish Deep Forest Comfort: Made with stringed squash with nuts, elfroot, edible wildflowers, halla butter, and mushrooms. Often served with the larvae of a wood-burrowing beetle, for pop and squish with the flavor of tangy innards. 

Hearth Cakes: Made with hardwood ash, flour, butter, sugar, eggs, dried fruit, halla milk, nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, and often topped with honey.

Toys

June’s Knot: A craved wooden puzzle that has no solution.

Philosophy 

(From the Wiki) Way of Three Trees:

Vir Assan ("Way of the Arrow") - fly straight and do not waver. "Be swift and silent," Andruil taught. "Strike true; do not waver. And let not your prey suffer." Vir Bor'Assan ("Way of the Bow") - bend but never break. "As the sapling bends, so must you. In yielding, find resilience; in pliancy, find strength." Vir Adahlen ("Way of the Forest" or "Way of the Wood") - together we are stronger than the one. "Receive the gifts of the hunt with mindfulness. Respect the sacrifice of my children. Know that your passing shall nourish them in turn."

Other paths/ways: 

Vir Banal'ras, the "Way of Shadow." For assassins.

Vir Atish'an, "The Way of Peace." For healers.

[scurvgirl]

apparently a wiki mod took down all words on the wiki that weren’t directly translated in game, which....i get but also it’s kinda annoying because the derivations all fit with canon, so here are the words i remember

inan - eyes

fel - slow

hanin - glory

arla - trap

uth - eternity/eternal

venavis - stop/halt/cease

bor - to throw/project

ena - appear

lin/len/lan - blood

tel - prefix to negate a noun, such as “abelas” --> “tel’abelas”

annar - year

seth - thin

[liaragaming]

After much deliberation, I decided Arlathan wedding jewelry consists of a gold necklace with an amethyst pendant for women and a gold ring with the same stone for men. Amethyst being a very spiritual stone, and gold simply being something I associate with Arlathan.The jewelry is a representation of what is believed to be a couple’s literal spiritual binding to each other and their promise to protect one another.

With Inan marrying Solas in secret, she still has a necklace made. Being that she doesn’t normally wear jewelry, it’s kind of odd. Post Trespasser, she takes up wearing Solas’ jawbone necklace and Dorian’s crystal on a daily basis. The gold chain and amethyst pendant is almost gaudy in comparison to the other two, even if she does try to make it as simple a design as possible.

When asked about it by companions, she simply tells them “It’s an Arlathan custom” and leaves it at that. She’s revealed to them by this point that she’s been speaking with Solas in the Fade, so they know something is going on but they are left to draw their own conclusions.

Solas also has a ring made, and the modern Thedas elves wouldn’t get the significance. But I can’t stop giggling at the thought of Abelas or other ancient elves being like:

No one asks him about it either because the first one who tried got a terrible death glare and swore they’d be struck down on the spot, and that was the end of that.

[rylaice]

Ir abelas. Ma vhenan. Iras ma ghilas? Melava inan enansal, ir su aravel tu elvaral, u na emma abelas, in elgar sa vir mana, in tu setheneran din emma na. Dareth shiral, ma vhenan. • PC: @square_noodles • #cosplay #merrill #merrillcosplay #dragonage #dragonagecosplay • The editing makes it so mystical and foresty I love it~~ also totally did not realize this was the first time I met @square_noodles !

[captusmomentum]

@selenelavellan

#Yeeeeeep Dirthamen that's super creepy #Selenes mental freakout when he showed up to take her though jfc #'la dee da its so nice not being sacrificed to those awful evanuris and-HOLY SHIT' #If she ever wakes up he is going to have an awful lot of explaining to do #because we all know he didn't do it before putting her in 'temporary' uthenera #'well you see i love u and i wanted to save u' #'we met once??? and if you saved me why not save everyone else???' #'uhhhh....welll....what ha' happened was.....' #survivors guilt is a bitch #Good luck getting past that hurdle Dirth! #Spirit!Selene though heck yes #I wonder if she stays a spirit or pulls a Cole #(...could u imagine tho. Like idk if AMD coincides with Inq but they're at Dirthamens temple and when you kill the priest #fucking Selene steps out like 'HELLO THERE I HAVE BEEN ASLEEP FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS AND WOULD LIKE TO HELP' #and Solas has a heart attack on the spot while caught between 'do i invite her to help' or 'do i stay as FAR AWAY AS POSSIBLE') #Meanwhile Dirthamen is still in the fade like 'i see u wolf dont touch my selene i will fite u'#i love this <3333

[furiously writes that idea down in notebook]

A Mirror Darkly is basically an alternate universe where inquistion didn’t happen and Solas woke up during the Thedas equivalent of our era, so there’s plenty plenty of time for the Veil to degrade, things to get worse and whatever bit of the Evanuris aren’t in lockdown to gain footholds in various places. There’s a much less clear conflict plot than DAI (hence why i’ve been Dying trying to plot this for MONTHS rip) and more this ever looming dread. Like the ceiling is slowly sinking onto them and when it does eldritch abominations (evanuris) will be unleashed on the world. Inanallas and like 4-5 other ppl are dreamers from across Thedas, part of the plot is trying to keep them from falling into the myriad of bad guys’ hands and also keep them from totally losing it. All while trying to solve the Veil and Evanuris Debacles. 

So it’s a really fun light-hearted story. (my masterpost for it is here... tho i need 2 update it WHOOPS)

It’s been kicking my ass on and off for months trying to plot it chronologically before I wrote anything so now that I’m working on it again I’ve decided to not focus too much on that and also post more wip stuff and doodle bc Feedback is Magic.

I can totally see the temple scene like, they go there to investigate/look for useful into, Inanallas, her bro Thenvas and fellow dreamer Tace all IMMEDIATELY start on the ritual bc if there’s a corpse puzzle they’re gonna do it. it’s just like, a law of nature. then all that tomfoolery somehow wakes Selene up and she pokes her head out of the super secret hidden chamber she was in like ‘um...hi? can i help you all or..???’ and Inan is just like 

It’s known that Solas is an ancient elf but it takes a while for it to come out he’s Fen’Harel. The people who know are either shrewd enough to hold off on making that public (Felassan, Curiosity) or have no fucking clue how to deal with this shit/don’t even know if they WANT to deal with this shit (Thenvunin, Abelas). He’d just be staring at her like ‘PLEASE DON’T RAT ME OUT’.

God I really feel bad for her in this verse holy shit. She’s seriously like, going from 0 to OH GOD EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE. Spirit!Selene would be much kinder to her and also probably p helpful. She can help investigate things and protect the dreamers from bad guys when they snooze (ง •̀_•́)ง