#garrett hawke fenris

[perlen-gold]

A m!Hawke x Fenris Story (finished) ~ WARNING ~

This might not be an easy read. This is not a comfortable story. Neither a sweet one.

This is rough. This is vivid.  This is raw.

But if you're brave enough to dare the leap and reach into the darkness, it might be worth the plunge...

Fenris stood on the wind-gushed ledge of the roof, balancing his legs, the toes of his right foot dangling over the edge. The roof  poured into a steep slant that bent his left knee in a nigh square angel.

The storm that had ravaged the sky all day had wiped its vault clean like a freshly watered riverbed, all mists and grays gone with its furious and ferocious cries but for a few straggling lithe-luminous wisps.  Behind them the horizon gleamed with pale plum and fig purple at the cusp, the day’s rim aglow with a last fierce brim of bright gold as of peaches and grapefruits melting to spill out of a gilded urn.

Slowly, his heart dripping in a steady rhythm borne on his breath, Fenris leant forward. When he looked down the estate’s walls, his eyes could trail the alleyway winding up to the front gate.

Fenris had once been a swift climber, sure-footed, his bare feet seeking crooks, and crevices finding his scraping fingers in secreted hollows. In his mind was no remembrance of attaining this skill – nevertheless, part of him remembered it all the same, in the long hours of aquiver waiting, in the fruitless days waning in Hightown’s labyrinth of grays. High, auburn-tasting branches. A barefooted whiff of mahogany. Beneath his skin, a savor of cedar.

There were no trees worth practicing in Hightown. Around Kirkwall and her dorsal zigzag pattern of serrated shores and haphazard cliffs  there were no trees to speak of, really. Fenris did not enjoy pervading the forest near the abandoned Dalish camp either. There, too, he found the woods and its trees inadequate – splinter-twiggy and evergreenish, with needle-clinging roots, puny, mere shrubbery only half alive in comparison to the giants he once had climbed.

Vast crowns. Massive boughs the size of a grown man’s body. Long, wide-fingered leaves in all imaginable shades of green, dripping with moisture and water beads pouring golden sunlight into the shades above slinking roots like mossy-soft mountains behind which a Qunari Karasaad could hide his horns as well as approach.

So, here, Fenris crested Hightown. Her walls were smoothly built, each stone set well-nigh perfectly onto the other. It was magic that had once merged them sans the fallible fingers of an enslaved hand which had trembled placing them beforehand.  Fenris’ own hands could feel it as soon as he attempted to start climbing them. But they were old now, these walls. In his skin, the aquamarine blue hummed quietly with both the magic and sweat within them. It was hard work, at first. His elbows, knees and shoulders still sighed with these first attempts.

On the fifth day, a voice coiled up to him.

He did not know how she had found out he was back. Perhaps rumors grew rampant about him still, and faster still than he would have favored. Perhaps, she had simply talked with Aveline or met Donnic.

One morning, a small crown of flowers, daisies, snow-dabbed, had been placed outside the estate’s outer gate. He had stepped on it, then, after a startled glance, picked them slowly from his feet’s skin, blossom for blossom. When he came back at midday there was another coronal of daisies the next day, the flowers twinkling slightly misshapen, blooming exactly where the first had been. Fenris ignored this one, too. Upon his return in the evening on the third day he had found no daisies but the end of a woolen, dandelion yellow yarn. Meanderingly, it sidled away into the dark.

Overshadowed brumal houses and umbrageous faces.

Fenris still disliked the Alienage cowering between Kirkwall’s more important vitals, in spite of the endless times he had wrought through it in the years past. He had not been exactly sure, after striding over ash-old bones, dark-stained rubble on splattered cobble stones, the scars of a city nearly crumbling under the echo of its last war, how or why his bare feet had sought out their way to its steep stairs.

And yet, here Fenris had found himself on the upmost stair, looking down.

Sun-spilling lights illuminated the dusky twilight clustering in the corners like whirring fireflies a blackened wheat field at night.

Fenris could move along with shades and shadows if he wished, shed his conspicuous appearance as a snake its skin, almost entirely, and this was how he watched the elves move about down in the alienage.

Towering in the center like a scarlet-painted sentinel was the broad-chested oak tree. As truly fond of trees Fenris was he favored them reigning  and breathing out forests instead of rising surrounded by shabby  dwellings. Constantly stretching high, sky-high, empyrean-high for freedom.

The mighty oak tree was encircled by the elves of the Alienage in their dilapidated clothes and innumerable candles in a circle around it they were placing. A gold-glimmering modicum of stars come alive below the cloud-strung sky. The elves, humming softly to themselves. A rippling pond of wavering lights. Old and young, elders and children.

Warily, Fenris watched them and quietly wondered to himself, about such wastefulness when wax and light could come short so easily, these days.

When he stepped out of the pooling darkness less gazes flew at him than he usually expected to. Small twigs and rubble girded creakingly under his naked feet as he walked past them. To Fenris, there was less debris here than that which he had climbed over in the rest of the city. The lights, however, brightened the waking night in a great arch around him.

Inside, he found Merrill situating one single beeswax-yellow candle right in the center of her ragged pine table. He could smell the nigh-forgotten scent of it lingering in her small room.

The table was strewn with a carpet of flowers, dried and fresh alike, in a mosaic of creamy lilies, daffodil suns, violet azures and poppy sunsets.  Fenris halted, paused over her threshold.

Then, Merrill looked around. Eyes widening.

She almost winced, supplanted by a little squeal of surprise.

He said, “I am intruding. I will leave again.”

Keep reading on AO3

[alltears]

dragon age twt au? dragon age twt au. HAWKE X INQUISITION EDITION

sorry for not spacing these out more but i have worms infesting my brains and they’re all sending me psychic attacks related to dragon age.

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

I think it's funny that when Cassandra gathers ppl to save the world you get the (mostly) het Inquisition. But when Varric gathers people it's always a wild pack of deranged fruits, AKA the DA2 crew minus Sebastian (the dlc straight) and the Veilguard minus Solas (status pending)

Idk what to put as a ending post image so here's Varric with his cleavage out

[pluviatrix]

i finished dragon age 2

[lunehowls]

forgot to post these awhile ago

[ketunhanska]

guy whos on his 4th playthru of angry elf dating sim (i am the guy)

[joesferatu]

they’re making fun of some hightown local or something idk

[adactaaries]

Portraits! Of da2 characters, because I don’t have time for anything more interesting these days

[yakowo]

played DA2, so I drew some sketches xD

og post of the second pic

[maatdraws]

fenhwake moving in my brain where there is already Lavellan & Dorian as well as Tavstarion

[saintdri]

New trailer dropping just as I’m finishing my weekend of fenhawke nostalgia no way. Is this a sign to replay the trilogy

[alltears]

dragon age twitter au? dragon age twitter au. INQUISITOR + FRIENDS EDITION

[kittyoperas]

a thousand teeth, and yours among them.

[lethendralis-paints]

Настав час буковинської відьми Мерріл! Як роздуплюся з записом таймлапсів в Кріті, викладу потім ще й відео.

Merril styled as a Ukrainian witch from the foresty region of Bukovyna.

Раніше я вже малювала Фенріса-козака та Ґоука-шляхтича. She joins the similarly styled sketches of Fenris and Hawke I did in 2022. Who should I draw next? ;)

[stealingpotatoes]

Hawke Hawke And The Terrible Horrible No Good Day of Domestic Terrorism (aka the final part of mine and @highladyofdusk's da2 playthrough!!)

(donation doodles! // tip jar)

[lunehowls]

warmup i forgot to post