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theluckywizard · 1 year ago

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WIP Whenever!

I'm so excited to be moving into Skyhold in my long fic In the Shattering of Things! (HF!Inquisitor x Cullen and HF!Inquisitor x m!Hawke)

tagging friends who probably have writing or art to share in progress!

@nirikeehan, @crackinglamb, @rowanisawriter, @bluewren, @kiastirling-fanfic, @doomhippy83, @warpedlegacy, @about2dance, @barbex, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @ir0n-angel, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @effelants

Newly minted Inquisitor Rose has only just begun to understand the surprising new feature of the Anchor (the Mark of the Rift in game) and she recruits Cullen to join her in discharging it at the buttcrack of dawn as is their tradition:

Cullen strides out, saluting lightly as he passes his guards who snap to attention, a flicker of interest in their faces and a traded glance. He looks every bit as put together as he usually does, his curls brushed into submission, fluffy mantle piled high around his neck. He hands me my vial of powder with thanks and I tuck it away.

“How is it feeling?” he asks, gesturing at the Anchor.

“Like my nerves are on fire. Full. I didn’t want to wait longer,” I say, biting my fingernail slightly. It’s warm enough this morning that neither of us need hats or hoods, the spring breeze stirring in our hair pleasantly as we progress across the bridge.

“I’m glad you thought to get me when Solas wasn’t free,” he says earnestly.

“I– um– didn’t ask Solas,” I admit, peeking at him.

“Oh. Oh. I…” he trails off, catching on, grasping for his neck with a flush.

“I’m sure he’s having a fantastical journey into the Fade at this hour,” I laugh awkwardly. He smiles, looking out at the brightening peaks.

“Maybe he could share his secret. I only seem to wind up in the dark and terrifying corners.”

“You know he would if you only asked, Cullen,” I tell him. “There’s nothing Solas loves more than dispensing knowledge.”

“I might if it weren’t so insufferable half the time,” he snorts. I had no idea he disliked Solas so. “Don’t mistake me, the man has his uses, but Maker’s breath. He does go on. And is never wrong of course.”

“I’m sure you are equally certain of your correctness,” I poke.

“I at least understand the limits of my knowledge,” he grumbles.

“What, did he critique your trebuchet placement? The size of your squads?”

“Well, he’s not that foolish,” Cullen replies with a chuckle. “But no, he had a lot of snide comments about how little I know about demons and possession.”

“Ah. I’m sure the arguments were… spirited,” I say softly, remembering something of ours.

“I’m sure you would have enjoyed them greatly,” he says with a laugh. “But you happened to be unconscious at the time.” We descend the steep road, first into the training camp and then out through the forest at its edge, trading an uncommon number of barely restrained smiles. The ice on the lake looks a little soft, weakened by the lengthening days and the radiant early spring sun. I pull my glove off and stretch my hand, the energy throbbing slightly at my fingertips. I shake it out with a hiss.

“May I look at it?” he says, glancing at me. I nod, remembering with curiosity how he’d said he couldn’t really sense anything after the mark started expanding again in Haven. I hold my marked hand out to him and he cradles it in his, his thumb brushing over the mark lightly. A thrill streaks through my body just as he shakes his head.

“Strange. You said it feels ‘full’ but I can’t sense anything about it. It feels like– well– a hand,” he says, and his cheeks are as pink as mine.

“I didn’t know Templars could sense magic,” I reply and he turns pinker.

“I– I– well, only in close proximity… and only when it’s active. But I thought maybe–” He can’t quite hold my gaze and he clears his throat awkwardly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I nod and walk over to the edge of the lake, twenty or so paces away from him. He draws his sword in preparation and I look back to wait for a signal. He inclines his head and I open the anchor, the Veil gaping wide over the lake like a great waking eye. My braid and cloak blow toward it, ice crystals drifting along the lake surface until they tumble upward into the open Fade. I can feel the tension in my hand easing as the Anchor calms and then the rift flickers out into silence again. Cullen sheaths his sword behind me and jogs over.

“Feeling better?”

“It’s always a relief,” I explain, stretching my fingers again. I pull my glove back on.

“Shall we?” he asks, pointing back up the trail. I crunch in the snow alongside him, our pace leisurely. Now that the task is done, I’m not sure I want to relinquish him just yet.

“So, this… Cole… creature,” he says. He chooses his words carefully because he knows I don’t like when people call him a demon.

“Yes?” I ask.

“Are you really going to keep him around?” he asks. It almost sounds pleading.

“Has he been bothering you?”

“He’s been… sending me notes,” he says. I can’t help but smile because I am sure that Cole is busy teasing him apart.

“And what does Cole have to say?”

“I don’t know exactly. Most of them barely make sense. It’s unsettling.”

“Shall I tell him to stop for you?” I ask.

“No, I just thought maybe– does he do it to you too?”

“Send me notes? No. We’ve had conversations though. He seems to want to help people.”

“Ah. So I’m a project,” he says with a little laugh. “Perhaps they’re riddles.”

“You’ll have to show me one if you have them still,” I say. “I’m not the best at riddles, but I’ve spent enough time with Cole to make some sense of the way his mind works.”

“I– yes– I think I do. That would be helpful,” he stammers.

“Cole told me that I was too bright to listen to,” I told him. A smile tugs at the corner of Cullen’s lips.

“Odd. But kind of nice, I suppose.”

Back in his office, Cullen opens a drawer full of letters and rifles through them, eventually pulling out a small creased scrap of paper with a sentence scrawled in splotchy ink. He hands it to me and I read it out loud but softly.

“They didn’t hang you there, you can walk away.” I look up at him. “What does it mean?”

“This one is about Kirkwall. The Circle in Kirkwall was in a fortress called the Gallows.”

“That’s– a really nice thought. The note, I mean,” I tell him, and it’s not even for me, but even I feel cozy inside; Cole’s effect is potent.

“I– I suppose it is,” he says, his eyes dwelling on it with a kind of softness. He rummages again for another one and hands it to me.

“He was dead the whole time. He didn’t know.” I glance at him. “Hm. Extremely vague. Who could he be talking about? A ghost perhaps? What do you think?” He shrugs and shakes his head a little bit and hands me another, watching me as I read it.

“Fond, fair, a fox on a frozen lake slipping past–” I can’t finish it out loud and blush brightly, furrowing my brow. –Follow her. “Are you sure that one is for you?” I ask, unable to look at him. Cole. I’ll be having words with him.

“I– I– think so? It came to me by runner,” he says, turning away slightly. I feel cornered into playing dumb.

“What do you think it’s about?” I ask him. He clutches at the back of his neck and paces away nervously.

“I thought you’d be able to help with that one,” he says, stealing a glance. I shake my head, frozen like a chump. Time to flee.

“I’d better get to work,” I say, though it’s well before I normally begin work.

“Inquisitor–”

“Hm?”

“Do you need to do this again tomorrow?” he asks.

“Oh, I– everyday. You know that.”

“Right. May I join you? Tomorrow, that is– not every day. That would be– ridiculous.”

“Preposterous,” I smile and the amber look snags me right in the heart. “All right. Same time?”

“Same time. I will endeavor to be… more prepared.”

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #cullen x trevelyan #cullen x female inquisitor #in the shattering of things #cullenmance #rose trevelyan #cullen rutherford #dragon age #oh for maker's sake just kiss #slow burn #eventual smut

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transmasc-tabris · 18 days ago

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Okay Bellara is so cute I could cry and apparently I never play this game when, you know, awake (it's almost midnight my eyes hurt)

First off. Still want to develop a bond with neve. Heart was set on her from the trailer but. But Bellara? Ohhhh my god. In a good way for sure. Like just when I say this game isn't really gripping me but also isn't too bad to finish (aka, when I'm climbing every ladder in dock town and hopelessly lost because my brain does not function - almost waiting for a companion to go up a ladder themselves and then yell for me to catch up - a thing that definitely didn't happen to me in a different series I keep comparing this to) I get a companion scene and I'm in again. And seriously she is so cute.

That being said I definitely do like neve. Her little moments with various people around dock town. Yeah it's not a lot but it's a nice touch of showing that she's known there and she gives a shit. For that it'll maybe kind of nice to repeat the fight with albin (accidentally slid down to him just as neve was talking, then got distracted by people in my house, so... was especially unfocused there). Hey, maybe if I redo it I'll get to third wheel to whatever was going on with neve and Rana again.

Harding I dunno I feel like you should be able to hit people with rocks, just as a little treat.

Forgot to take screenshots but it truly is return of the fuckass hats (I don't want to say it but damn does one look like some kind of bdsm hood but like... patterned with scales?)

I can pet the cats? I can pet the cats!

Odd how the vendors look like you're talking to NPCs in ESO now but I'll live with it.

Dorian's speech. It's such a small thing but I liked it. Strife's note too. Especially his. Such a measured perspective it was nice. And I posted about it on its own but I made a stupid noise at Isabela's letter at the start.

Realized I haven't mentioned the plot much and I guess that's because most of the major main story stuff that's happened so far is either just starting or is still the basic premise of the game as advertised and, well, I'm trying to keep an open mind still. I could bitch about the power creep and how this probably won't feel as interpersonally tense, but also I bought the game knowing it would be like that so I'm not going to complain much that I got what was advertised.

I've only seen one so far but it's been interesting to see Solas's past. Would definitely like more of that. Though even then I'm trying to not take anything with him at face value because, well, it's Solas.

Okay gonna sleep and maybe kill cultists tomorrow

One thing I definitely didn't like was the implication that loghain specifically was influenced by the old gods. The others I don't mind so much, since it is more explicitly implied that there was a specific point they were first corrupted and they were assholes before that (if we're going to keep up the reaper comparison, then how Saren in the book was a bag of crap before ever running into the reapers) With loghain I don't see that, and his bullshit felt much more... ordinary but in an interesting way? I'll go with that for now.

Also in the theme of 'I'm too stupid to live' whatever I need to shoot to progress is always in the only place I hadn't looked.

So just collecting my thoughts on DAV so far. Literally only a couple hours in at this point since life will not just Stop for a second.

Okay first off. Character Creator? Chef's kiss. God damn. Took me forever but I enjoyed it. Also haven't made a qunari character yet but I did take a look at some of the options and neither hair nor horns were as bad as I'd feared. There are options that aren't trash.

Glad I could give my first Inquisitor the glorious braid, broad shoulders and generally haunted look he deserves.

But also? What does -18% mean for height???? I don't know. I managed to make my Rook a little shorter than Neve after a few tries so it's all good.

Moving the camera with the mouse is still something I'm getting used to, but considering all the times I fucked up in DAI and ended up running around looking at the top of my character's head, I'm fine with this new way of doing things.

The new darkspawn design? Not as bad I thought it would be. Same with the new demon design.

Combat - Well they said it was going to feel like mass effect and it mostly does. Obviously like if you took out the guns but you know what I mean. I keep expecting that one death theme to play when my Rook goes down. Like with every bioware game I've played (besides DAI, actually) it's either a breeze or a death fest with little in between. That could be a skill issue on my part though. I do like the actiony feel and the way it seems to be leaning into the absurd athleticism for rogues.

Do wish I could turn off or tone down companion dialogue in combat though. Tone down most likely. I don't hate it (how could I hate supportive Harding??) it just happens too frequently in my opinion.

Love that running around and looting instead of fighting is now canonically on brand for my Rook. True lord of fortune moment. Speaking of - LoF casual outfit is growing on me.

Irelin is so pretty I could cry. So are a lot of others but she wowed me.

This could easily have to do with the fact that I'm playing it on nvidia geforce now but it does seem like the voices are a little bit... off from the characters? Like ahead of or behind their mouths moving our sounds like it's coming from a different place altogether. I dunno there's just something a little weird about the voices in general but that's a massive nitpick and not a huge deal.

Solas hates blood magic now? Wasn't he pretty neutral on it before? Then again, I'd lie in those circumstances too.

Still wish we'd had more than three world choices to choose from especially if characters from previous games are coming back, but at the very least they are making it easy for a new player or someone who hasn't played a da game since dai came out to just jump in.

Fuck the lighthouse is beautiful.

Pretty much all technical at this point since I've literally just met Bellara at this point. Oh Merrill you would have loved her.

#original posts #Veilguard Chronicle

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siennadraws · 3 years ago

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Not Inquisitor as a Companion Banter

Cole’s reflection on their thoughts: "Still so young, what does it even mean to grow old? To lead? The Little Wolf will excell, she isn't the First because of her mother."

Comment(s) on Mages:

"My clan has a lot of mages, more than the average. So other clans call us super lucky. I have to agree. Do you know how exhausting it can be to lift the Aravels that have sails up into the air? We can do it in turns."

"When a Dalish mage isn't able to control their magic yet, the rest of us do little shows with our own magic, with sparkles, flowers or water, and the Healer shows them some healing spells. We show them the beauty of it, so they won't be scared, and then they are able to control it. The Circles do the opposite, and claim they are protecting mages and non mages."

Comment(s) on Templars:

"I really detest Templars. Most of the City Elves we welcome into our Clans are mages fleeing from Circles, you know? Our Healer was one of those, and our Second. The stories they have told me. They are... Horrible."

"I really rather not think about Templars..."

When looking for something:

"Etharavel, can you smell something?"

"Just like looking for blueberries!"

When finding a campsite:

"Etharavel likes this spot!"

"If you were my clan, I'd pick this spot to stay for a while."

When the Inquisitor Falls:

"Wait, you're still needed."

"Hang in there, we'll finish them off!"

When they are low on Health:

"Please, someone help!"

"Fenedhis, this hurts!"

When they see a Dragon:

"My sister says she defeated one like that with you once, is that true?"

"Is that a Dragon?" (Said like the 'Is that a chicken?' vine)

Default saying:

"How are you?"

"How are you, Hahren?" (High Approval)

*Etharavel growls* "How are you, Inquisitor?" (Low Approval)

Travel Banter with Canon Companions of your choice:

Fennas: So, you're Sera. The Friends of Red Jenny seem super uuh cool! Humbling down nobles, and all that. Ahah. It's like, out of that Shem story... How's it called? Robin Hood! He's very noble, in the true sense.

Sera: You're Terys sister right? Ugh, she's... nice, but pbbbttthhh

Fennas: ... Oh. Umm, what are we doing, Inquisitor? Ahah

___

Fennas: Oh, Hahren! I wanted to thank you again for uuuh getting me out of that room, ahah.

Solas: There's no need to thank me. Do you often get stuck behind doors?

Fennas: Umm... Yes. Doors just... Don't like me? My mom used to joke that Fen'Harel was the one doing that, because he was scared of facing me head on. It used to help me feel less humiliated. Ahah...

Solas: I can teach you a spell to open doors, Da'Fen. (Little wolf)

Fennas: Oh! Thank you, Hahren.

___

Vivienne: You are to lead your clan?

Fennas: Once my mother, the Keeper, steps down, yes.

Vivienne: Well, darling, it's never too soon to learn. If you'd like, I can give you some lessons on the Game. Gaining alliances with humans can only be beneficial for your clan.

Fennas: I'd be very honored, Hahren!

___

Fennas: Varric, you are friends with Merril, right?

Varric: Yes, Daisy, you know her?

Fennas: Yes! She comes to our Clan sometimes, when we go near Kirkwall. Thank you for not telling the whole truth in your book.

Varric: Of course.

Fennas: Well, but Terys and I were wondering, if you omitted that, you must have omitted more! Could we ask you some things? We have theories.

Varric: I... Stop making puppy eyes. I won't give in... Oh, alright, Fluffy.

#inquisitor as a companion #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fennas lavellan #notmyblobs

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macgyvertape · 3 years ago

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So how’s Trials of Osiris now?

I’ve been wanting to do a follow up to on my essay “Trials of Osiris has been corrupting Guardians with Darkness“, and I figured no better time than when Bungie made a lot of changes to Trials gameplay.

No leak info or spoilers beyond week 1 of s15, this season’s Trials weapon is available in game from turning in last seasons bounty. I’ll cite like (this) the name of the lore, it can all be found on ishtar-collective since I’m having issues with links.

to recap: before Stasis and before Savathun!Osiris, Trials was a corrupting influence related to the Darkness, affecting both Ghost and Guardian, and driving them try to perma-kill each other.

What I find fun about this storyline, is that it has shifted from being about creepy unknowable Darkness into a story about the clash between Guardian’s use of darkness powers vs faith in the Light, that’s clearly meant to continue the themes from Seasons of the Drifter and Opulence. Bungie isn’t going to put this plotline ingame, so IMO it’s fine all the lore implications are obscure.

thesis: in universe characters directly list the obvious parallels for Shayura “"You're no better than the Dredgen ," he says ... "…or Malphur ."” (SW, Shayura's Wrath) but also Shayura is set up as a foil to Aunor Mahal.

Since Season of the Chosen where the Trials Armor lore detailed Shayura’s descent into some degree of madness from 3 points of view; the lore has mentioned that while Savathun!Osiris is interested by guardians being corrupted by Darkness they aren’t the cause of it, and didn’t know of it till Saint-14 brought it up (In Memoriam Shell) (IH, Igneous Hammer).

Basically Shayura’s belief that the Traveler wants her to do this, and her willingness to kill Guardian is her own (PAB, Pyrrhic Ascent Bond) (Shayura's Wrath). Although there is confirmed final death for a Hunter in Shayura’s Wrath lore, it is implied that she has killed an unknown amount of Stasis users “Fragments of Ghost shells are scattered atop the console” (PAB)

There is an additional trophy “the Human skull sitting in the middle of her command console. Its hollow eye sockets stare back at her” (SW) following Shayura’s attempted murder patterns, I’m guessing that skull was her fireteam member Aisha who is one of the few humans mentioned in the context of Shayura’s breakdown, and who “betrayed” her by using stasis. Further evidence would be that Shayura’s story was told from the 3 points of view of her fireteam: the only point of view since the Shayura Wrath lore has been from that of Reed-7(Reeds Regret).

side note: it doesn’t seem like Shayura is treating her Ghost well either. “A Ghost reduced to little more than a bare sphere of metal, deprived of a shell” (SW)

Dredgen Yor:

It’s hard to make direct comparisons with Dredgen Yor, most of his lore is from D1, and contradicts in points where it seems like it was handled by different writers. The other point of similarity besides being infamous and reviled for murder of other Guardians is the lore being clear that they suffer from the emotional toll of endless war.

Shayura:

"Can Guardians be unfit for duty?" Shayura wonders aloud, her voice muffled by the tabletop.

"I mean…" Aisha replies. Her hesitation has a palpable sting. (PAG, Pyrric Ascent Gloves)

Yor:

To Rezyl, the Captain was already an afterthought. ... Rezyl’s attention had shifted to the unknown, but inevitable, battles to follow.... Rezyl was growing tired of small wins, however meaningful. (Rezyl Azzir - War Without End)

It’s not the same emotion, but it’s not often Guardians doubts in their role in such a way. You could say Shayura is the Light version of what Dredgen Yor was, but while the Darkness encouraged Yor (Ghost Fragment: Darkness 4), I HIGHLY doubt the traveler is encouraging Shayura the way she thinks it is. (Pyrrhic Ascent Boots)

Taking the the ending words of "I killed an agent of the Darkness," Shayura says, ... .Bile rises in the back of Shayura's throat."They come in many forms." (SR). I don’t think its much of a stretch to think the lines refer to her as an agent of darkness as well.

Shin Malphur:

Shin Malphur and Dredgen Yor, have a fair amount of parallels, especially considering Shin Malphur = Dredgen Vale twist, but it’s unclear how widely known that twist is in universe and if that is what the dead hunter was referring to.

Shayura’s Wrath item text “"But here you are. This is truly a beginning…" —Shin Malphur” (SW) parallels Dredgen Yor’s last words “But here you are. This is truly an end” (Ghost Fragment: The Last Word 4)

it’s heavily implied Shin is speaking to Shayura, but do I think Shin Malphur would be helping Shayura? Not unless Bungie is planning on changing his characterization yet again. There are obvious surface parallels: two solar wielding vigilantes who hunt Guardians who wield Darkness and love extra-judicial murder (Source: too many pages to count where Shin talks about culling those who have gone too far into the darkness). But Shayura’s zealot belief in the Traveler and her crusade against darkness wielders are the opposite of Shin’s beliefs of using both Light and Dark:

“the building of a new world, one where absolutes cower to the might of compromise, where Light tempers dark and the dark opens new insight into the Light's many undiscovered gifts.” (Nothing Ends: The Long Goodbye)

“the shadows of dark power that tempt us are not inherently evil. In fact, they are simply another tool to be used if we hope to bend the unknown to our will, an impossible feat we must learn to master if we wish to push back the ever-aggressive tide of extinction.“ (Nothing Ends: The Liar's Trap)

I think in the end Shin Malphur is more of a contrast than a comparison to Shayura, I’d also be suprised if Bungie brings him back as they’ve had him give his retirement twice now (Letters from a Renegade, Nothing Ends)

Aunor Mahal:

both are/were members of the Praxic Order, both strongly oppose Guardians using power of darkess.

A key difference is Aunor still has faith in the Vanguard while Shayura does not (Pyrrhic Ascent Hood). Shayura is what the fandom who only listened to Drifter’s side of the story thought Aunor was, someone more than ready to kill Guardians and Ghosts.

While Shayura only consideres execution, Aunor has faith in rehabilitation

“You're costing us Ghosts—means to fight enemies of humanity. These Guardians represent more than potential Dredgens” (The Warlock Aunor: The Salt Mines).

Following the Trend of other corrupted Guardians like Sola or Trestin, whom Aunor confrots; I’m expecting to see Aunor eventually confront Shayura, it seemed implied in the Igneous Hammer lore.

Side note:

Even before Guardians used stasis, its clear there was a ramp up from when Gambit appeared with Guardian’s going too far with the darkeness to the Guardian and ghost corruption seen in Trials

“will face Praxic justice. Perhaps exile. We haven't had to lock anyone up in decade“(Message from Aunor VIII)

"It's affecting Ghosts now too. We should bring them back to the City. This makes five." (Temptation's Hook). “ You think she'll be lucky number… how many are we up to now? At this point, the only chance I'm giving them is the chance to kill me first” (The Messenger)

Shayura mentions she was locked up and escaped (SW), and it’s clear that the Praxic Order is stretched thin

“Aunor scowled. She was perhaps the most diligent of the Hidden ...Each time they met, she seemed a little gaunter than before. A little testier" (IH)

Aunor’s morals and loyalty to the Vanguard are some of her defininging characteristics and I don’t see that changing. But if this storyline continues in Witch Queen then I see things hitting a breaking point.

#destiny 2 #destiny lore #trials of osiris #shayura #aunor mahal #dredgen yor #shin malphur

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miqojak · 3 years ago

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Right/Wrong

((Brief mentions of @throneoflevin and @sola-ffxiv! This has been sitting in my drafts for WEEKS. I wasn't sure I wanted to post it, then I sat on it for a while, then I edited it...and fuck it. I haven't written in ages, so here's one to dust things off. Hopefully I'll be back to writing more soon!))

Her breath didn't pick up in pace - not until the end. Only when the man cowered in the dirt, curled into the fetal position, did her breath come ragged...and not because the furious little woman was tired.

Break him.

The Beast, scenting blood and fury, came rattling at its bars.

Those working and living nearby had come to a standstill - the noise and bustle and chatter of this one pocket of Little Ala Mhigo was frozen in time, watching a Miqo'te who - was an adult, surely? Savagely beating a man who, ultimately, had it coming. Scum were everywhere, after all - thinking they had the right to take whatever they wanted, and she'd...snapped.

Fuming, the little woman's hood had torn from her head in the whirlwind of a beating she'd given the Hyur, a mane of curls now veiling one gold eye. She hadn't wanted to make a scene, but the other woman hadn't been capable of defending herself, and she didn't have a man or anyone else to stand in for her, so why not? Why not her? It wasn't her sister, or mother, but...what if she'd been able to step in back then?

It was hard to stop when you didn't exactly want to.

She'd spent many of her formative years memorizing how things hurt.

Why not share that knowledge with someone who deserves it?

The woman tugged at her arm - words incomprehensible, for a beat - stuttering and stammering in fear and gratitude alike; the onlookers turning away, as the weight of that narrowed eye rested upon each of them in turn. Do a person a favor, and you still get looked at like you're the asshole. She should have killed him - why shouldn't she?

Wasn't it her right?

The strong eat the weak. That's the way of the world.

Protecting the sheep was never worth it. Sympathy made her see ghosts, made her act thoughtlessly.

The woman thanked her profusely, though there was a fear in her, too. Didn't Jak know what that looked like in the mirror? 'Can I trust even this?' Did she think, now, that this awful little woman would demand recompense?

Jak spit on the rake writhing in the dirt, gave him one more solid kick, and shook off the woman, "Learn to protect yourself. Let what could have happened here today keep you awake tonight, and then tell me how thankful you are."

At least, with her hair down, she was less recognizable - even if the piercings and coloring were impossible to hide without heavy masking. Did the Wolf know she came here? She'd long kept it quiet - not one to advertise where she went when she needed...what, to feel close to home, and all that was lost? Like she belonged somewhere?

Kicking that guy's ass is what Kesri would have done, after all.

She, however, wouldn't have daydreamed about all the ways she'd like to draw it out, snap his bones, make him plead and promise.

'What's making you restless?' The little Shadow had asked her, and how she'd wanted to laugh in their face - what does a beast born in war want? But she'd never say that.

She was trying. Ketsuchi was, as usual...right. She needed to channel this sharp, ugly thing inside her in the right direction, and brutalizing an already beaten rat in front of all these people she felt compelled to commune with on occasion...wasn't quite 'right,' was it?

'Right'...'wrong.'

We decide those.

She decided to ask herself what her Wolf would do, or say to her about this scenario, in this moment. Funny, that - always one to strain for independence, never reliant on another, and she needed this man's grounded headspace to help her figure out what was...appropriate, if not always 'right', at times.

She hated it a bit, having to rely on anyone - even someone she had come to care for as much as she did. But...Jak was grateful, all the same.

She left the rotten creature lying there with at least a broken nose, and maybe a few ribs. She imagined that her Wolf would agree that such vermin had learned its lesson, and it wasn't worth getting herself into trouble to do anything further.

#Little Ala Mhigo #miqo'te #ala mhigan #homesick cat #will never admit it #full of fury #the Beast #the Jackal #DRK #things the jackal says #[The Jackal and the Wolf]#make your own morals

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years ago

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WIP Wednesday

Oh, boy! Oh, boy! Have I got a treat for every one this fine Wednesday! X3

Thank you @noire-pandora for the tag! <3

Cue the boys finally having a moment of blissful happiness! *wails*

---

Solas let his thumb ghost along an infant cheekbone, feeling the faintest grit of scales under it. “He reminds me of you.”, he said without really thinking, nostalgia and the tightening of fondness gripping his mind and heart as ivory plate shivered from his touch, but not one of pain.

I am not hurting him, tainting his scales black.

Fane chuckled from beside him. “Does he? I think I see the resemblance. The scales, I’m guessing?”, his dragon teased, uncommonly, but understandably in good spirits.

Solas hummed. “Mm,” He readjusted the cloak, smiling without reservation as the tiny dragon burrowed into it more, a sleepy whimper loosing from a sharp maw. “Not precisely. It is more his spirit--bright even in slumber, strong even when faced with adversity.”, he explained and couldn’t help but let out a quiet coo when another whimper escaped a slender form. “Shh, da’isenatha. You are safe.”

“Here,” Fane reached over, readjusting Solas’ hold a bit and fluffing up a bit of the fur lining to which the tiny dragon immediately sought it out. “..he wants warmth.”

Solas tilted his head, glancing up at Fane and smirking gently. “He is a snow dragon, is he not? Would heat not make him uncomfortable?”, he asked. He only asked due to how the other man practically whined when the fire in their quarters was just a tad too high.

Fane shook his head, eyes soft as they gazed upon his kin. “Not yet.”, he said, slowly taking his hands away when the ‘nest’ was deemed good. “Infant dragons seek warmth from their mothers for the first several weeks, but I think he’ll have to need a source of heat for much longer. His body can’t regulate properly. He’d die in the conditions our breed is supposed to thrive in.”

Solas felt his gaze go hooded when Fane gently ran a thumb along the crown of the dragonling’s head and his whole body felt like mush when a tiny purr rattled through the cloak and up his arms. It was followed by a soft squeak of satisfaction, almost looking as if the line of the infant’s mouth was smiling. It was such a beautiful, mortal sight that Solas didn’t know how much more he could take, but despite that, he pulled the dragon closer, offering him warmth as he desired.

He would grant any desire, any request if it brought a smile forward--on either dragon that he was blessed to know and to love.

Solas hummed, thinking. “Hm,” He shifted a bit, moving closer to Fane absently before settling and looked up into softened emerald and gold with a tentative smile. “Would a warming spell be unwise?”

When Fane only stared at him with a raised eyebrow and curious look, Solas felt the need to justify or rather, explain his request. He wasn’t trying to push magic as the only option, knowing the precarious thoughts on it, but if warmth was sought, warmth could be easily obtained.

Solas cleared his throat gently. “Most of the magic will be contained to my body, of course. The heat is the result of a delicate balance of core temperatures and the residual essence will be projected outwards.”, he explained, suddenly finding himself blushing as Fane’s gaze softened like butter and more or less saying, ‘Relax’. “Ah, in shorter terms, it is akin to a rune warming a basin of water.”

Fane chuckled. “I know what a warming spell is, my sky. You’ve done it for me countless times.”

Solas blinked, blushing more. “Ah, of course.”, he muttered, turning his face away and absently pulling the tiny bundle in his arms closer. What was going on with him? It was as if all thought processes had flown out the cave’s entrance, and had been carried away with the wind, lost to him.

“Solas,”, Fane called out to him, another chuckle lacing his baritone. When Solas didn’t answer the call with his eyes or voice, opting to pluck at a loose emerald thread, one of his dragon’s hands appeared upon his face, beseeching. “--look at me, my sky. Let me see what you’re feeling right now.”

Solas felt his lips draw tight, refusing to look up, but leaning into the blazing hearth that was Fane’s palm. He honestly couldn’t understand what was coming over him. Could it be the atmosphere--cool and soothing, ice and snow smelling fresh, smelling clean? Could it be the blend of emotions that permeated the air--stress ebbing away, gentle joy edging inwards? Could it be how Fane’s thumb began to stroke under one of his eyes--quietly praising, openly relaxing? He had no definitive answer, and for once, he did not care as a willowy body shimmied and huffed out a cool to the touch sigh, finding the perfect spot to resume their plunge into pleasant dreams. Did dragons dream, he wondered? Maybe he should ask, but not now. Now was the time to relish in silence, not soil it with noise beyond whispers and whimpers.

He wanted to cherish this sensation--this sensation of being alive, of being able to hope and imagine a brighter future than what the path depicted before him every day, every night, every hour. Pointed ears twitched as Solas heard Fane let out an airy laugh; the sound was exquisite and it made his body warm without the use of magic.

“I’ve never seen you act this way.”, Fane murmured, but his voice wasn’t displeased. It was more...in awe? Solas wasn’t sure, but he didn’t mind it as he gingerly began to stroke the tiny dragonling with the back of his hand--easily pulling bits of the Fade through to warm the leather. He knew he was acting...odd, but he couldn’t reign it in, couldn’t control the swath of gentle love and tranquility coursing through him.

Solas chuckled, fondness encasing him more as a serpentine head nuzzled against his warmed hand. “I have never felt this way.”, he said, breaking his vow of silence and his vow of not gazing up at his dragon.

The look on Fane’s face had the essence of love blooming into full blown adoration as Solas took it in. Emerald and gold were no longer two, but one--mimicking the most intense waters of the Fade since they appeared to gently glow. Their depths screamed, ‘I love you. I love you. Let me see. Let me see.’, and Solas felt his lungs tighten and his mouth go dry. He, too, wished to see, to see his dragon bask in life, and though it was subtle, Solas knew that that was what Fane was doing every time he caught jewelled orbs flicking downwards to check on their slumbering hope. A tenderly stroking hand was still prevalent upon Solas’ face and he couldn’t help but turn his head a bit to lay a light kiss against it, drawing an all encompassing gaze back his way and also pulling a voice just as sweet as the one in ebbing orbs.

“You’re happy.”, Fane whispered, a soft smile upon his features to match his glittering eyes. “I adore seeing you this way. It’s beautiful--you’re beautiful.”

Solas sucked in a quiet, but shuddering breath before letting it out slowly. “That is--” He clamped his mouth shut as Fane’s face appeared but mere inches from his own, earnestness all over it, as well as the desire to make him see.

“You are beautiful, my sky.”, Fane reasserted, stabilizing arms coming around to carefully embrace him, but mindful of who was between them. “If only you could see yourself right now, through my eyes, and soon, through his,” Solas followed the flicker of gold as it indicated downwards, his heart melting anew as the tiny dragon fidgeted as if it were dreaming. “..you’d understand completely.

Solas leaned into the arms encasing him, eyes going hooded as Fane began to nudge and nuzzle at his cheek and jaw. He felt so warm, so calm, so solid. The tiny dragonling was in his arms, heart perceptible as it beat against his arms, breaths calm and deep as slumber stretched on. His dragon was around him, shielding, holding, and drawing him closer to his form to where Solas could feel a strong, strong heart thumping in time with his own. It reminded him of when he and Fane used to sit along the forest floors just outside of Arlathan, blissfully at ease despite the loom of shadows. His dragon had welcomed him into a ‘hoard’ of one back then, and he was being welcomed again in a hoard of two.

He was being accepted by a being who never should have accepted him due to what and who he was, but actually came to love him, to take a form that had once been reviled and thought of as no better than an insect’s just to...be with him. Just as the little one in his arms, oddly warm despite an opposite affinity, seemed to accept him as well, allowing Solas to hold him, to..to care for him. How is it that he felt more kinship with the two proud creatures before him, one small, one dual in form, than he did with any elves or mages? He cared for his people, almost to a fault, but now, it felt as if his...heart was growing, reaching for more, thinking beyond to a world where...coexistence could truly happen this time.

How is it that he felt so alive when even things such as touching a page of a book or holding a brush felt numb?

“You are beautiful, ma’isenatha.”, Solas whispered, unable to keep the tremble from his voice as emotion began to overwhelm him and the sensation of Fane inching closer and closer as if to bridge the miniscule gap between had his heart yearning. “I am merely--”

Fane blinked once slowly, stilling the words that wished to flow. “A person.”, he whispered, a hand coming up to cup his cheek once more and a forehead coming to greet Solas’ own. “A person that’s made mistakes, made errors, but a person that’s loved, that’s cried, that’s cared.” A light kiss fluttered against his cheek, heat rising as surely as a whimper did from his chest.

“Cared so much as to warp the intention. I know what I have done, my dragon, and no matter the justifications, I committed an act unforgivable. To my people and to yours. If I am a person, I am but a shadow of one.”, Solas argued, gently turning his head down to witness pure white with only a splash of obsidian, but even that was pure to his eyes at this moment. He took a bit of the cloak in hand, swiping the edge under a closed eye gingerly and nearly wept when a pleased hum left the beautiful creature nestled in his arms. A question unearthed from that display of wonderful expression. “Would it...be wrong to name one of your kin?”

A pregnant pause, one that had Solas nearly backtracking, mentally smacking himself for being so foolish, but all the dread, all the self-loathing vanished like a barrier as Fane’s lips appeared against his own, warm, tender, and ever depicting of the man the other truly was; devoted. He froze up a bit, gingerly giving the tiny dragonling a squeeze, but no fuss was made, no whimper of discomfort sounded. Solas slowly began to relax, warmth filling him, eyes falling shut, and tilting his head slightly to slot his lips more flush with Fane’s own. The kiss was slow and sadly, fleeting, Fane letting out a quiet hum before pulling away with a hooded gaze and a truly bedazzling smile that made the lower lids of his eyes pull upwards.

Solas blinked, stunned and face warm despite the chill. “...Ma’isenatha.”, he whispered with a tone akin to reverence before unabashedly leaning into the wall before him and nudging against a beautiful jawline. He rested his head against Fane’s shoulder soon after, relishing its stabilizing demeanor, basking in how a hearty heart thumped and thumped and thumped with the drums of life against his side, linking with his own, while a tiny one fluttered against one of his forearms.

What had he done? What had he done to deserve this..?

Fane wasted no time in embracing him, bringing his arms up and giving him a tentative squeeze. Solas chuckled at that obvious display of carefulness, gaze going hooded as he stared up at a being who had defied so much as the little one in his arms did. Tenacity was indeed indicative to dragons.

“Did I break you?”, Fane asked, voice as soft as an echo of thunder, distant, but oh-so near.

Solas scoffed softly, smirking a bit. “Mm, perhaps a bit.”, he said, shifting his head back and forth against the leather of his dragon’s coat. Such a thing would make him bristle with discomfort any other time, but right now everything felt soft and truly perfect. It felt real. “Though, I know it was but your answer to my question.”

Fane chuckled. “Indeed it was.”, he said, glittering orbs of two tones rolling downwards to the slumbering dragonling. “I had a name in mind after I was sure he wouldn’t...die.”

Solas blinked before smiling a bit. “Is that so?”, he asked, smiling more when Fane nodded and his ivory visage flushed a light pink. “Then, the honor is yours, vhenan. Let the world know another dragon yet lives.”

Beauty was everywhere as those words fell from Solas’ lips. In the sharp lines of a devotion borne jaw, in the contours of cheeks and their related bones, in the curves of a smiling, a full blown smiling mouth, in bottom eyelids as they pulled upwards and the top shaded a heavily hue. In this moment, Fane appeared every bit of the beautiful person that he was--dual, but wholly one. Just as the curled up dragonling in his arms was. What had Solas done to deserve not one, but two, wonderful beacons; one, Devotion; one, Hope? He truly, truly did not know, but he wished for those two lights, those two lives, to shine forevermore.

They would endure, even if he did not. But perhaps, Solas would endeavor to push onward right beside, as a new set of sparkling tones--emerald and gold--gazed up at him sleepily, double lids flickering as the tiny dragon blinked away dreams and haze, and another set gazed down, wide-eyed and loudly joyful as those pools finally allowed themselves to fill with tears.

“Yune.”, Fane voiced the name with a shuddering, airy, but deeply joyful laugh. Tears began to roll down his pale cheeks, the delicate drip, drip, drip resounding off the stone ground, but Solas felt no guilt from them, no pain. For they were of happy make, of hope. “His name is Yune.”

Solas nodded, smile of happiness stretching his face to impossible heights, but he didn’t mind it. To bask in life was to share in its tender joy. And this time, he would allow it to permeate his mind and soul without shame, without guilt. For there was hope where there was otherwise not. A tiny questioning ‘chrp’ had Solas blinking gently, newborn orbs staring up at him curiously instead of looking down like the ones brimming with tears.

Those eyes, Solas offered a singular finger to the tiny dragon and felt tears prick at his own eyes as emerald and gold blazed with excitement and already, love. We will keep them colored, little one. Da’isenatha. A term that will be more commonplace. I promise.

“Welcome to the world, Yune.”, Solas whispered, feeling Fane come down to rest his forehead against the side of his eyes. The man was sniffling and quietly sobbing, and it had Solas letting out a shuddering sigh, leaning into the gesture eagerly as Yune--such a beautiful name--let out a squeak of acknowledgement and acceptance.

Hope. What a beautiful light in the shadows--in this world he had wrought.

----

A bit lengthy, but I COULDN’T DECIDE! *screeches and curls up on the ground like the very dragon I created*

Tagging (bask in the HOPE): @oxygenforthewicked @varric-tethras-editor @little-lightning-lavellan @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine @aymayzing @dungeons-and-dragon-age @drag-on-age @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold @hoochieblues @whataboutbugs and anyone else who’d like to BASK with their own creations! (no pressure, as always! <3)

#wip wednesday #first i was consumed with halamshiral and now THIS #yune the best little dragon to ever grace thedas :3 #fane is the most dangerous dragon to ever grace thedas *is SLAPPED*#ngl the beginning of this snippet starts off with a solas analysis X'D #literally it's just solas being solas PFFFT #WE PUT THE DRAGON BACK IN DRAGON AGE >:D #my writing #oc: fane lavellan #solas #solavellan #dragon age

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theharellan · 4 years ago

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Solas Fan Banter

Here’s a compilation of the fan banter I’ve written over the years between Solas and other canon Dragon Age characters, posted for Dragon Age Day 2020. There are references to a canon divergent Solas/nb!Lavellan companion romance. I’ve regretfully not written any Iron Bull banter that I’m proud enough of to feature here, but if anyone has any suggestions for topics I’d be glad to hear them.

Featured characters: Solas, Cassandra, Varric, Sera, Blackwall, Vivienne, Dorian, Cole, Morrigan, Cullen, Leliana, Valta, Renn, and Arcane Advisor Merrill!

Solas & Cassandra

(after receiving the quest Agrarian Apostate)

Cassandra: And he was not even a mage. Shameful. Solas: Would have it been justified if he was? Cassandra: The Templars have sanction to punish apostates. It would not have been beyond their authority. Solas: I would not call that justified, merely legal. Cassandra: The Templars should be better. Solas: The Chantry armed them and gave them an enemy. That might fuel an army, but will only serve to poison their minds against innocent people, apostates or no.

Solas & Varric

(after killing the Templars during the quest Agrarian Apostate)

Varric: I thought at least away from Kirkwall I could get away from crazy Templars. Solas: You believe they were mad? The men I saw were no different from those who confronted us in Val Royeaux.

(after delivering the ring)

Solas: She seems to be holding up well, considering. Varric: Yeah, but I know a front when I see one. Solas: You believe she was suffering more than she let on? Varric: Oh, I know it, Chuckles. That ring might comfort her when the country gets too quiet, but it won’t dry her tears or– shit, do much else, really. Solas: Some wounds only time heal. Varric: And they always seem to leave ugly scars.

(after beginning Here Lies the Abyss)

Solas: You found Hawke after all. Varric: Oh, you know. All those heroics jogged my memory. Solas: Naturally. Varric: What, you going to lay into me, too? Solas: No, no. I understand why you hesitated. (if Hawke is a mage) Solas: To involve her in a Chantry organisation would not have been wise, at least before it had a chance to prove itself. (otherwise) Solas: Given her involvement in this war, I can only imagine there are those on both sides who would blame her for their present predicament. Varric: You mind telling all that to Cassandra? Solas: I would prefer not to.

(after Here Lies the Abyss, if Hawke is left behind)

Solas: I have read your book, you know. The Tale of the Champion. Varric: I don’t know if now’s the best time. Solas: I understand. I only wanted to say that in reading it, I felt your affection for Hawke in every word. I am... sorry, for what happened. Varric: Thanks, Chuckles. Solas: Of course.

(after Here Lies the Abyss, if Hawke survives)

Solas: You said your farewells to Hawke? Varric: Sure did. Sent letters home, debated sending letters to Weisshaupt. The Wardens will need to know the storm coming their way. Solas: You believe Hawke will pose a problem? Varric: Well, maybe not on purpose.

(in the Hissing Wastes, while exploring dwarven ruins)

Varric: I’m surprised you’re not hounding me about how all this makes me feel, Chuckles. Solas: I had thought we established your disinterest. Varric: Yeah, well. I’m thinking about it, anyway. Solas: If you insist. How does this make you feel, Varric? Varric: There’s a tiny part of me that’s really satisfied, you know? Seeing a Paragon of all people living on the Surface, then the rest of me just doesn’t give a shit. Solas: Tradition is a difficult thing to shake, to be conflicted is expected. Do you think our discovery here ought to be shared with Orzammar? Varric: I don’t know about Orzammar, but I can think of a few Surface dwarves who’d be interested in this.

Solas & Sera

Solas: I could not help but notice what you were drawing at breakfast. Sera: What? I wasn’t drawing anything.

(if Sera is romanced)

Solas: You captured our Inquisitor’s likeness well. Sera: Better than you could.

(otherwise)

Solas: There was no mistaking Dagna’s likeness. What were you carrying? Sera: A bowblade. It’s not a thing yet, but if anyone can make one, Widdle can.

Solas: Have you ever given thought to collaborating together on a piece? Sera: Collaber-what? Piece of what? Solas: A painting, or a drawing if you prefer, what medium you decide upon makes little difference to me. Sera: You really think the two of us could work together on anything? Solas: I was under the impression we had been. Sera: That’s different. The Inquisition’s not an ‘us’ thing, or it is, but not us us.

Sera: Say if I wanted to make something with you, what’d we even make? Solas: You ask the question as if there are limitations. Sera: A dragon, then! No, wait, a butt! (beat) Sera: Nothing? Not even a nose wrinkle? Solas: I am not unopposed to the idea. Sera: Ugh, how can you even make butts boring?

Sera: (handing him a drawing) Here, made you something. Solas: What is this? Are those—shoes? Sera: That’s right. One for each toe. You’re welcome.

(After Solas initiates a relationship with Ian)

Sera: So, you and Freckles, huh? Interesting. Solas: Your interest is not my concern. Sera: I always figured you’d wind with someone who’d make the bumping bits matter. Y’know, drop ‘em and rebuild the empire. Solas: It is not the physical product of our love that matters so much as how he makes me feel when I’m with him. Sera: Eugh.

(If Ian is in the party)

Ian: (laughingly) Vhenan, I would choose your words more carefully next time. Solas: Oh. (slightly embarrassed) I did not mean it like that. Sera: Ha! I’ve made him blush. Solas: This is why I didn’t wish to discuss it.

Solas & Blackwall

(While near Ferb’s old fishing pier in the Exalted Plains)

Blackwall: Wonder if the fishing’s good. If we had an hour or two… Solas: Do you consider yourself an angler, Blackwall? Blackwall: I wouldn’t go that far, but I do enjoy the sport of it. Solas: I’ve never considered it a sport. Blackwall: Probably because you’ve never gone fishing just for the fun of it. Next time we make camp, I’ll show you.

Inquisitor: So, how’d your fishing expedition go? Blackwall: You should’ve seen the size of the gar I wrangled. Solas: It was not half as impressive as he believes. Blackwall: He only says that because all’s he caught were minnows. Solas: (scoffs) Inquisitor: So... where is it? Blackwall: We threw it back, of course. Wasn’t like we were going to eat it. Solas: A convenient excuse.

(Along the Storm Coast)

Blackwall: Ever heard of the pale ship that appears on the mists? The Windy Marcher – I think that’s what they called it. Solas: I cannot say I have. Blackwall: An old story, no idea where it started. Must’ve heard it a dozen times in the Free Marches, always a different ending. Solas: As is often the case with legends, the content and moral changes with the teller. Blackwall: One man claimed he’d seen it himself, said the ship was captained by beautiful spirits who’d called him to the sea. Solas: A case of wishful thinking, I assume. Blackwall: He was a bit of a lonely bastard.

(After Revelations)

Solas: You and Cole seem more friendly, of late. Thom: He took some getting used to, but his heart’s in the right place. There’s enough darkness in the world without pushing away the good. Solas: I imagine it was chilling, knowing he could break your cover on a whim. Thom: That did keep me up some nights, yes. Sometimes I wonder why he didn’t say anything. Solas: Perhaps he saw in you what the Inquisitor sees. Thom: Well, I’m grateful. On both counts.

Solas & Vivienne

(After the events of Bring Me the Heart of Snow White)

Solas: I heard the news of Duke De Ghislain’s death. As I understand it, the two of you were close. My condolences for your loss. (if the Inquisitor gave Vivienne a regular wyvern’s heart) Vivienne: (coldly) There was a chance at saving him, but he is beyond saving, now. At least, by mortal hands. Solas: Then I am all the sorrier. (otherwise) Vivienne: He was at peace, and we had the chance to meet at least one last chance before he passed. Solas: Be thankful for that closure, it will bring you comfort in the days to come. Vivienne: It already has.

Solas: How do you feel about the moniker ‘Madame de Fer?’ Vivienne: Oh, I think it’s darling. Why do you ask? Solas: Iron is cold, unyielding without the proper tools, some may use it as an insult rather than a mark of respect. Vivienne: Of that I’ve no doubt, but let them. I embraced it wholeheartedly, and from then on no one could ever truly use it against me. Solas: True enough, such a tactic has worked for others before.

Vivienne: You will be wearing shoes to the ball, won’t you? Solas: My comfort is not worth jeopardizing the Inquisition’s image, so yes. Vivienne: Many elven servants in Orlais go barefoot, it would hardly be a scandal. Still, it would be beneficial. We must all present as a unit when the time comes, not a single hair out of place. Solas: That will hardly pose a problem for the two of us. Vivienne: (makes a sound almost like a laugh) Right you are.

Solas: There are rumours that your name be put forward as the next Divine. Vivienne: I wonder who might have started those. Solas: After all that has happened these past few months, you believe it possible they will accept a mage into their fold? (if the Inquisitor completed In Hushed Whispers / is a mage) Vivienne: Whyever not? Magic is what solved the problem, after all. Solas: Magic has solved countless problems over the centuries, and yet it is still reviled. Vivienne: I am not any ordinary mage. If any mage can achieve status of Divine, I am she. Solas: On that, we agree. (if the Inquisitor completed Champions of the Just and is a non-mage) Vivienne: With the Inquisitor’s support there is nothing I cannot accomplish, my dear.

Vivienne: The Inquisitor gave you that hood not half a day ago and it already has a hole in it. Solas: Two, in fact. Vivienne: Are you afraid we’ll forget you’re an elf if we go five minutes without seeing your ears? Solas: My estimation of your abilities is not that low, Enchanter, and I would be careful were I you. Two holes cut in a hood is not nearly as desperate as donning a pair of horns every morning.

(After Ian is made Tranquil during his personal quest)

Vivienne: I hope you know what you are doing, my dear. The Rite of Tranquility is not something easily undone. Solas: As I understand it, the Seekers did it quite regularly. Vivienne: And through a far gentler process. What they did to Ian was barbaric, but undoing it is not necessarily a kindness. One might even call it selfish. Solas: I never made any claim to selflessness. Vivienne: Go through with it, and he will relive what happened to him every morning and night for the rest of his life. Solas: (with restrained anger) Do not pretend as though you suddenly care for his well-being now, you showed little regard for him before. Vivienne: It is a warning, nothing more. Solas: Your warning is heeded, but it changes nothing. I am under no illusion this will be simple, but to give up on him now— I would be no better than the Circle that once wanted this same fate for him.

Solas & Dorian

Dorian: That book you have on your desk, Solas… Solas: There are many. Which are you referring to? Dorian: There’s one that looked to be in Ancient Tevene. Do you speak it, or are you just keeping it around to look clever? Solas: I would not go so far as to say I speak it, but I understand it well enough. Dorian: How did you go about learning it? Solas: Memories of Tevinter’s empire litter the land, there is hardly a place in Thedas where the world does not remember it, and with memories come language. Dorian: So you learned through the Fade? Solas: I did, though my pronunciation leaves something to be desired. An unfortunate consequence of learning any language alone. Dorian: I might be able to help, but only if you give me the satisfaction of hearing you muddle through it out loud beforehand. Also, I’ll be next in line when you’ve finished reading that book of yours. Solas: (snorts) Very well.

Solas & Cole

Cole: So they’re nobody, but somebody. Empty shells, filled with someone else’s memory. Solas: For the most part, it seems. Cole: If they’re heartless, why are they so angry? Solas: Perhaps it was not so much the absence of feeling, but the lack of recognition of said feelings. Cole: Belief makes them real, even if they’ll always be different.

Cole: It remembered. Delight in discovery, always pushing further into the unknown— someone like that does not simply disappear, and yet... it cannot remember his name. Solas: Names are not so as important as the spirit of the person they belong to. Cole: It remembered the person. Sadder, but stronger. If I ever return to the Fade, I would like to meet it. Solas: Nothing would delight it more. Cole: Oh, I know. I think we’d be friends.

(After the banter where Solas helps prevent a panic attack)

Cole: You breathe in— one, two, three, four— then out— one, two, three, four— feel the grass beneath your feet, magic between your fingers, remember what is and what was. How long did it take you to learn? Solas: More time than is ideal. Cole: I’m sorry. Solas: There is some comfort in knowing I’ve learned enough to help others with such struggles. Cole: I’ll count with you, if you need. Solas: Thank you, Cole.

Solas: I’m curious how your efforts are coming along since we last spoke. Cole: Josephine misses how saffron tastes, but she hasn’t asked the chef to purchase any. I wrote it on a list when no one was watching. Cullen doesn’t like my letters. He says they don’t make sense. Solas: I cannot imagine he devoted much time to understanding them. Cole: No. Listening is... difficult, when you’ve been taught not to.

Cole: Eyes fall shut, but they do not drift away. Their feet are tethered, tied to the ground. Solas: Even dwarves who lived and died on the Surface never dreamed. Cole: But they are still remembered. The song drowns out their thoughts, but it does not smother them. If I listen, I can hear. Solas: I have seen fewer glimpses of dwarven history than I would like, but there are always memories preserved by particular attentive spirits.

(When passing through the kitchen, or lingering nearby. Solas stands over the stove and Cole sits on a nearby counter, hitting his leg against the wood.)

Solas: Would you like to try it, Cole? Cole: Would it not be a waste? I don’t need to eat. Solas: To overindulge, perhaps. A taste will do you nor the world any harm, a good meal is about more than survival. Cole: Then I’d like to try it, please.

Cole: You don’t have to eat, Solas. Solas: Strictly speaking, no. Cole: Sometimes you do anyway. Solas: When the urge takes me, or if refusing would be seen as ill-mannered.

Solas: If I could ask for your opinion, Cole. Cole: It remembers the garden. The sun bakes it red, colour working through it like a blush upon a maiden’s cheeks. Solas: Excellent. And this? Cole: It was lost in weeds for weeks, neglected and forgotten. It tastes like oversteeped tea. Solas: I see. Then we will find another.

Cole: And it remembers the ocean? Solas: It knows the mountain streams and rocky coasts as well as any well-seasoned traveller, though the paths it takes are laid with smoother stones. Cole: Rough edges wicked away by river waters. Soft enough to stand on without any shoes. Solas: Though one must still take care not to fall. (optional) Inquisitor: Speaking from personal experience, Solas? Solas: I suppose one might say that. Cole: Feet forget the ground, flying out from beneath him, but the rest of him doesn’t follow. Solas: (tinged with embarrassment) As I said. Inquisitor: (chuckles) (otherwise) Cole: But you always get up again.

Solas & Cullen

Cullen: I’m curious how you’ve avoided Templars all these years. Solas: I would prefer not to say. Cullen: I’m no longer a Templar, you know. Solas: Then why do you still wear their heraldry? Or am I mistaken? Cullen: I… Solas: Templar or no, your support for its cause endures. I would not endanger fellow apostates by revealing our methods.

Solas: Master Tethras tells me you served in Kirkwall. Cullen: Varric has no shortage of stories, that one just so happens to be true. Why do you bring it up? Solas: My travels have taken me there, on occasion. Cullen: I admit, I’m curious what your impression was. Solas: All the world is steeped in tragedy, but in Kirkwall the Fade overflows with it. Spells flow from the fingertips with such ease you may forget the Veil altogether. Cullen: That doesn’t surprise me, the amount of abominations I saw during my years there… Solas: They were but a symptom. Kirkwall’s sickness ran deeper than what any one spirit could cure.

Solas & Leliana

Solas: I have heard the Inquisition call you many titles. Sister, Nightingale, Spymaster. Leliana: I have worn many masks, some I’ve liked more than others. Why do you mention it? Solas: Which do I refer to you by? Leliana: (laughs) Whichever you prefer. You may use Leliana, if you wish. Solas: Then I shall see which suits you best.

Solas & Josephine

Josephine: It took several tries, but we managed to remove the wine stain from your sweater. I apologise again for Lady Vérène’s indiscretion. Solas: The fault is hardly yours. It is a pity she is not more open to an apostate’s perspective, but the loss is hers. Extend my sincere gratitude to whoever expunged the mark. I have only a few shirts to my name. Josephine: You know, Solas, now that the Inquisition finds itself in more favourable circumstances, we can afford to purchase you a new wardrobe. Solas: With respect, Ambassador, I value comfort over style. I’m uncertain the Summer Bazaar will be able to accommodate me. Josephine: It would be a most... unusual request, but I believe I know the tailor for the job.

Josephine: Have you found the library to your liking? Solas: I have. I cannot imagine any other circumstance where someone like me could have such unmitigated access to the written word. Most human libraries are not so liberal with their guests. Josephine: I confess, I have never been without books. Ever since I was a child they were always within reach. Solas: Then you must have recommendations. Josephine: One or two come to mind. If I can secure faithful translations, you will have them.

Solas & Morrigan

Solas: You seem well-versed in courtly manners for a woman raised in the wilderness. Morrigan: What are you implying? Solas: That you have a talent for winding nobles around your finger, or that the infamous ‘game’ is not so deadly as they like to believe. Vivienne: Or that more talented souls paved the wave for her. Solas: Another possibility. Morrigan: ‘Tis true that Orlesians overestimate the challenge of this ‘Game’ of theirs. Empress Celene had her desires, and ‘twas a simple matter to keep her satisfied. Vivienne: Which is why you’re with us. Morrigan: With you at my side, I could not help but notice. Vivienne: Believe me, dear. Court enchanter is a trifle compared to where my sights have set.

Solas: I found your son atop the rotunda’s scaffolding today. Morrigan: He has long been fond of climbing, and Skyhold’s trees are too new to bear his weight. Solas: It was no harm. My only regret is I did not have an answer to every question he asked. He is a curious boy. Morrigan: (laughs) That he is.

(During What Pride Had Wrought, upon finding the mosaic of June)

Morrigan: Ah, clever June. The most elusive of the elven gods, insofar as legends are concerned. Solas: Their silence is deafening. Morrigan: I take it you have insight? Solas: Merely that he does not deserve what little credit he is given. Time has forgotten the name of whosoever built the first aravel.

Solas: Rumour spread that Kieran went missing. I trust your presence here means you have found him? Morrigan: I… yes. Solas: He is unharmed? Morrigan: Yes. Solas: Then I am glad. And… you? Morrigan: I have much to think upon, but my son is safe. Everything else can come after.

Solas & Renn

Solas: Tell me, Lieutenant, why did you remain with the Legion? Renn: Having trouble seeing why it’s your business. Why d’you ask? Solas: Escaping would be a simple matter of finding the right battle to slip away from. Freedom would only be a few day’s journey from where we stand. Renn: I couldn’t abandon my men... or my city. Solas: You show great loyalty to Orzammar, considering you will never see it again. Renn: Yeah, well. You never forget your home. Solas: No. I suppose you don’t.

Solas & Valta

Solas: “But the truth is the truth— no matter how political it may be.” Valta: Do you disagree? Solas: Just the opposite. The truth does not change with our ability to stomach it. I am glad a historian such as yourself agrees. Valta: A shame the rest of the Shaperate doesn’t agree with us. Solas: True, but if they had you would not be here, on the brink of uncovering secrets buried centuries ago. In their attempt to keep you out of the way, they unknowingly set you upon the path to even greater knowledge. Valta: Orzammar will know the truth. If I don’t make it, then the Inquisitor— Solas: You are not yet dead, Shaper Valta. Do not count yourself apart from the living so soon.

Solas & Merrill

Merrill: You snort when you laugh. Solas: I’m well-aware. If you are about to ask me to stop, I’m afraid I’ve tried before. Merrill: Oh, it’s not a bad thing. It might be the most charming thing about you. Solas: Damned by faint praise. Merrill: It is a very charming laugh.

Solas: Why did you leave your clan? I read Varric’s Tale of the Champion, but I suspect most of it was a lie. (if present) Varric: Hey! I’m right here. Solas: You did well to lie. To name her as a Dalish mage would be to paint a target upon her back. (otherwise) Merill: I left… I— it wasn’t exactly my choice. There was a mirror, tainted by the Blight. I thought we should fix it, even if it meant turning to blood magic. My Keeper disagreed. Solas: You cleansed the Blight from an eluvian? That is remarkable. Merrill: I used to wonder if it was worth it. I sacrificed so much to get it working, years of my life, my— I’m just glad we’re getting use out of it, now.

Merrill: You’re wrong about my people, Solas. The Dalish aren’t as lost as you think. Solas: They cast you to the streets of Kirkwall, exiled you for the crime of pursuing the duty they tasked you with. Merrill: Some of them said such awful things, they looked at me like I was already a demon, but… that doesn’t mean there isn’t good, too. Sometimes I wonder, had my Keeper not been so against me, if things might have been different. Merrill: I don’t know what they said to you, but I know what their scorn feels like. It hurts, but… there’s so much to admire. Solas: You still feel for them. Merrill: They’re my people, they always will be. No matter how much they might hate me, I’ll always love them. Solas: Put like that, I suppose I understand the sentiment. Merrill: It’s a lonely feeling, isn’t it? Solas: It never ebbs, no. Merrill: Then just— remember them, when you think unkind thoughts about the Dalish. The people you miss, the people you don’t, and what you’d sacrifice for them both.

(in the Exalted Plains, outside the boundaries of Hawen’s camp)

Merrill: (giggles) Datishan was asking about you before we left. Solas: Datishan… Hawen’s little hunter? Merrill: Who else? She wanted to know when you’d be back. Solas: What did you tell her? Merrill: I told her you needed time, that good stories don’t grow on trees. You will go back, won’t you? Solas: It seems I shall have to, or else suffer the wrath of her arrows. Merrill: You joke, but she almost poked out my eye last night. Solas: (chuckles)

#dragonageday #solas #dragon age #dragon4geday #unofficialdragonageday #dragon age inquisition #fan banter #dare to be in the company of those stronger than you ( banter )#( my writing )#[ i'll be reposting the couple new things i wrote for this later ]#[ scheduled post ]

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vvakarians · 4 years ago

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Ch. 5 of Wolves Without Teeth is now up!

Beginning | Update | Rating: 18+

Fic Summary:

Voices born of tragedy are always the loudest, and the blast that destroyed the Conclave at Haven birthed thousands. The only survivor --a seemingly insignificant Dalish elf-- proclaims innocence despite the blood staining their hands. They make a lofty promise to the world, an oaken branch planted for every lost life, and justice for all those affected by the newly created rift in the heavens. Nothing will stop them from leading all of Thedas back into the light, even on wings of death.

Chapter Summary:

With Calliope mostly healed from the fight with the Pride demon, they think all will be well only to find out that their Mark has changed more than just their mindset, which comes at the worst possible time. But somehow they manage to meet with the advisors without too many ill effects.

V. It’s still days before Calliope is able to slip from their bed and manage to dredge up enough energy to put their armor on. Artemaeus is on his earlier rounds, though it won’t be long before he walks in. Solas has already done his rounds, he mostly comes by at night when he thinks Calliope is asleep. Not one word is ever uttered between the two of them and he seems content for that to continue, confusing as that is to Calliope. The whispers pick at that concept -- perhaps he is avoiding them somehow. Did they upset him that badly on the trail to the Temple? His behavior is puzzling to say the least. Solas appears to be protective of them --as if he knows them but they can’t ever place him-- but when they try to catch his attention, his interest vanishes.

They hum to themself as they slip on their tattered cloak, too deep in thought to notice the scurrying in the shadows of their quarters. Not until the sticky, wetness of something latching onto their wrist catches their attention. Pinpricks of terror make their hair stand on end and Calliope freezes, not daring to test the strength of whatever wrapped itself about them. Their heartbeat roars in their ears as they hazard a glance down, everything else forgotten but this. Though there is nothing to suggest anything ever touched them. Not a blemish, not even residue from what certainly was a slimy creature. When they push back the long sleeve of their tunic, there is nothing. Just their bare arm and--

What is that?

Ridges of their pale flesh seem to be jutting up slightly, creating a sort of ripple texture along the inside of their wrist. Welts the size of small coins dot along the back of their hand and palm, irritated and discolored. That terror turns into an icy panic as Calliope checks over the rest of their left hand, thrown from the need to stay frozen in place. A mirror was provided some time in the last several days so they could properly braid their hair back --something they had asked for to retain some form of control while regaining the use of their hand-- and they scramble over to it in a frenzy. There’s more than just the welts and ridges in their flesh; when they look into the glass their eyes are no longer a pale blue, they are a sickly, red rimmed green. Like the Breach. That damned thing that scars the sky and taunts them, speaks to them in their nightmares.

That sticky sensation returns, creeping up the back of their neck while they raise their left arm up to the mirror. In horror they watch as three of the innumerable welts slowly peel back the skin on heir hand, revealing demonic eyes that look back at them intelligently. Almost in a question. Throughout, the whispers have been silent; no buzz at the edges of their hearing. Now they rise to a scream that echoes and bounces off the inside of their skull. All nonsense, or perhaps every language on the material plane. Calliope does not know. Only that they feel the rush of being swallowed up by it, entirely consumed by whatever has trapped them here in this moment. Something that they can only later describe as other or eldrtich.

Minutes or seconds tick by --even hours, for all they can tell-- before the door opens and startles Calliope back from the mirror. They don’t register who enters, glancing wildly at the figure and then back into the glass. Yet the eyes are no longer there. The sickly green of their own irises are however, as are the ridges and welts. Confusion replaces Calliope’s anxiety while they stare and try hard to comprehend what the hell just happened.

“Ser Lavellan?”

Again, Calliope looks to the ill timed guest. There’s a face they recognize; chest length red hair that falls from beneath a deep purple hood, chainmail clinks on the outside of her robes. Leliana. It’s just Leliana.

“I-- yes? Apologies, I think I must have spooked myself,” they murmur, still distracted but not enough to ignore her presence.

“Do you need a healer? That arm doesn’t look good.”

Self conscious, Calliope slips the thick woolen sleeve back over their arm and they shake their head numbly, “No. I--will speak to someone later about it. There’s no pain. It--seems that the Mark has made changes without my permission.”

There’s a long, heavy silence between the two of them. It’s obvious Leliana is at a loss for words and Calliope is too in shock to say much, not even as they move towards the door. Stiff and unsure of themself. Perhaps Solas or Artemaeus will know more. For now they need to not think of it and are grateful that the whispers fade to a soft white noise.

“I came to see if you wanted to meet with the others in the Chantry. Do you think you can manage that?” Leliana asks, stepping to the side briefly for Calliope.

“I will try. That is all I can do.”

At least the cold is a welcome distraction this time around. Soothes rather than stabs them, though Calliope is sure that will change if they spend too long outside. The sun is high and bright in the pale blue green sky, the rift sealed but still puffed and raw --like an infected wound. They merely glance at it before narrowing their eyes back down at the muddy ground, careful not to sink too deep into the muck. Suddenly they are very thankful for the boots they were encouraged to take with them. Nice and soft on the inside, perfect to combat the freezing temperatures; wrapped with some cords that jingle with wooden and bone charms. A bit of home to carry with them. The sound comforts Calliope while they follow Leliana off to the large building just beyond the trail.

It’s a short walk, just a few minutes up a long dirt path that winds around a fire pit and various tents. Calliope prepares themself for another round of vitriol, unable to forget the guard who threw that rock. But nothing comes. In fact the people that do gather whisper amongst themselves in awe, or perhaps even reverence. Though that unsettles Calliope as much --if not more-- than the hate spewed days before. Why the change in tone?

One of the group is another familiar face -- Varric. Laughter lines crease his cheeks as he watches Calliope approach; how he can be so jovial they’re not entirely sure. But it is a comfort to see, and even makes their mouth twitch into a small smile. Or a semblance of one. He doesn’t stop with the others and in fact begins walking in line with two of them; Leliana gives him a nod of recognition as he does so. It quickly crosses Calliope’s mind that he’s wearing a coat that seems much too large for him -- the puffs of dense wool obscures much of his face, and the blocky shape of the leather makes his movements stiff. A complete wonder how he can even walk in it.

“Spin a story that convinced them?” he asks with a wink.

“I think so. They found my tales of a nug tripping me and slaying a dragon in the process very compelling,” they respond tiredly, “I managed to slip in a bit about your gorgeous chest hair as well.”

Varric laughter is a deep, resounding bellow that brightens Calliope’s smile by a fraction. Though they note a slight change when he fully looks them over, his unobscured eyes taking in the changes from when they last saw each other.

“Kid, are you feeling alright?”

“That seems to be the question of the day,” Calliope sighs. Their breath comes in clouds before them, “The Mark has made changes. I wish I could say I knew what was happening, but for now I think I’ll be fine.”

“You should let Chuckles know, if he hasn’t found out already.”

That gives them pause, it’s a good suggestion and begs the question--does he? Why has he not alerted anyone if he does?

A frown spreads across Calliope’s face and they give a short nod, “I’ll let him know after the meeting. Though I’m not sure what can be done about it.”

“Who knows, but for all his oddness he’s pretty good at keeping it in check.”

Another comment that makes them think too hard. What does Solas know? If the Mark and the Voice are connected, he should know of that but has never said a word about them. Did he...know this would happen as well? Calliope swallows hard and pushes those thoughts out of their mind, thankful that the large doors of the Chantry have finally come into full view. It’s harder to worry about hypotheticals when something so big is looming over you.

“I’ll keep you posted, how does that sound?” Calliope asks, glancing his way.

“Yeah, sure. Long as you take care of yourself, kid, that’s all that matters.”

His voice is too soft when he responds, as if a great sadness has settled in his bones-- but Calliope doesn’t draw attention to it. Not yet. Instead they try on a bigger smile for him and gesture to his much too large coat. Throngs of people start to gather around them but Calliope is too busy with Varric, the others --and their growing anxiety-- can wait. He’s been nothing but kind to them.

“If you promise to find a better coat then I promise to do as you ask. How about that?”

Another bellowing laugh escapes Varric, so much so there’s a jingle from the golden ringed necklace that rests on his chest. Warmth floods Calliope when they hear that, their anxiety melts away for the moment. Though they can’t help but notice the large group around them in their periphery, ever whispering, looking.

“Does it really look that bad?”

“Oh yes, it makes you look like a walking box,” Leliana interjects with a smirk. Calliope startles when she speaks, having forgotten she was there. She’s always so quiet.

Calliope’s smile widens at her response, however, “Someone had to have given it to him as a joke, right?”

“I think it was a gift from Cassandra, so something like that.”

“Ah, that would explain it.”

“Alright, alright! I’m sure there’s a tailor around here somewhere. You two do your important meeting and I’ll fix this disaster of a coat,” Varric snorts, rolling his eyes with affection. A welcome sight as the throng stares and Calliope’s anxiety spikes to another unimaginable height. Both Leliana and Varric take notice quickly; the one ushering Calliope into the warmer, darker Chantry, while the other bustles through the crowd, breaking some of it up.

Inside the old, creaking building there’s a sort of calm you only find among places of worship. Though it doesn’t feel nearly as ancient of a peace as Calliope is used to. It makes their chest ache, thinking back to the sprawling temple to Falon’Din that sat deep within the Graves. How much that single ruin felt like home. Here in the torchlight, hundreds of miles from their home, Calliope brushes their fingers along the stone walls of the Chantry and wishes to be back in that flooded sanctuary, surrounded by statues of their gods that have stood against the test of time.

The once rich but faded golds and reds of Andrastian tapestries feel familiar but foreign at the same time. Moldy furniture and dusty books surround them, old stained glass still shining brightly in the mid morning sun. Casting rays of colors all across the muddy floor. Their mother once spoke of these places, how they brought her comfort when the world was at its worst. Not because of the religion itself, but how gentle it was in those moments where no one noticed her and she could slip off without alerting anyone. There is a remnant of that here while Leliana and Calliope slowly walk across to another pair of large, ornate doors. Symbols of the religion embossed into the dark wood, a sunburst set into the seam where you would pull them open. Familiar but still foreign. They feel like they shouldn’t be here, even in the momentary peace.

That nasally voice from days before pierces right through the calm the moment the doors swing open and Calliope can’t help but make a face of disgust. This man again? Another shemlen who thinks he knows what is right and what is wrong, Creators forbid you tell him otherwise. Chancellor Roderick stands in his white, gold, and crimson red robes to the side of a large wooden table covered in maps, and what looks like small figurines. Curious, Calliope focuses on what that could possibly mean before looking around to the others flanking the Chantry man. All humans, it seems. Another man and two women, one of which is Cassandra.

The other man has curly blonde hair, in a slicked back style that interests Calliope --they wonder briefly how he can keep it so neat and tidy in this weather. His armor bears the many sunbursts that can be found through the building, a mix of gold and cold steel. Rich red fabric and dark furs hang around his tall, muscular form. Though his complexion and under eye bags speak of illness, sunken cheeks and a listless gaze. Perhaps he has the Blight?

“...Roderick, save your breath,” the man murmurs, catching Calliope staring as they enter the room.

“Why is the prisoner continuously not restrained?”

Roderick does not waste any time on saving his breath.

“I’m afraid chains would not do you any good, Chancellor. Has Cassandra not told you I practice magic? I could simply look at you and you’d be a crispy husk,” Calliope rolls their eyes, eliciting a snort from both the new man and the aforementioned Seeker. Though the latter seems to think that much funnier than the ill human.

“Andaran atish’an, Ser Lavellan,” another voice cuts through the Chancellors rebuttal.

This time it’s the new woman, dressed in swatches of golden fabric lined with thick, lightly colored and patterned furs. Necklaces hang from her soft, tan neck and glint just as her brilliant smile does. Long, dark hair frames her face in perfectly set curls that are then braided to be kept out of her eyes. Honestly, she seems much too warm and gentle to be in this situation at all, but that is exactly why Calliope assumes she is. Never underestimate the sweet ones.

They smile back at her when greeted in elven, and bow their head respectively, “Pleased to meet you, even under these circumstances.”

There is a sound of derision from Roderick that has both Calliope and Cassandra looking his way with annoyance, the former feeling a coil of anger build in their chest.

“What, do I offend you?” Calliope asks, raising a pale eyebrow at him.

“These circumstances are of your own doing, of course you have offended me! The Divine is dead and here you stand, still alive.”

“Shocking as it may seem, Chancellor, I did not kill your Divine. In fact I have been exonerated of all charges. Cassandra told me as much several days ago as I was recovering. While I don’t remember what made her change her mind, I’m inclined to think it was compelling evidence.”

This time there’s another amused snort from the ill man and he looks up at Calliope, dark eyes sparkling a bit in the lamp light.

“Careful, you keep prodding him and he might explode.”

Roderick once again opens his mouth, but quickly shuts it when Cassandra steps in with a scowl his way and a glance at Calliope. There is a brief moment where her expression turns from irritation to concern when she makes note of the change of Calliope’s eye color, which does make them wonder if they should wander about with their eyes shut from now on.

“I believe we have some introductions to get out of the way,” the Seeker says, shaking the worry off expertly, “You know Sister Leliana, our Spymaster.”

Leliana bows her head at the mention, smiling just a touch for Calliope who manages one in return. It’s the least they can do after her friendliness towards them.

“Our Ambassador, Josephine Montilyet. She is an expert in keeping the peace,” Cassandra gestures to the woman full of warmth, and then finally at the ill seeming man, “This is Commander Cullen Rutherford, you would have met him at the Temple but we know how that went.”

“I was nearly decapitated, apparently. Which I’m sure Roderick would have been pleased by,” they scoff, glancing away from Cassandra to watch the priest. He does nothing but stare right back, wrinkling his nose.

“We are lucky you weren’t, otherwise we would not be able to do what we’re doing now,” Cassandra responds, cutting in before Roderick can get a word out.

Something about that comment unsettles Calliope, makes them seriously consider the Seeker. She had said something about wanting them to stay, that there was danger following them possibly and they didn’t have anything on the Mark yet. Yet this doesn’t seem to be what she’s talking about.

“I’m assuming we found something when we closed the Breach? What are we doing now?”

A heavy silence descends upon the room like a thick blanket, extinguishing all sound so much so that the whispers come in loud bursts and Calliope’s pointed ears flutter uncomfortably. They wait for someone to say something, anything at all; nerves standing on end.

“We saw a vision in the middle of a field of red lyrium that was at the center of the Temple,” Leliana finally speaks, looking from Cassandra to Calliope with a sharp gaze, “Someone or something was there doing a ritual, said that the Divine was meant as a sacrifice. Then you came out of the shadows to ask what was going on. That was when the Rift broke open.”

A chill runs down Calliope’s spine, that familiar build up of anxious energy. Their eyes dart to the candles flickering just beyond the table, and one of them forms a tall pillar of fire before simmering back down again. No one seems to notice, not even Roderick who is barely paying attention to anything at all.

“That’s good to know but that doesn’t answer my question. What are we doing now?” Calliope repeats, their gaze hardening. The whispers buzz in anticipation, shadows dancing in their peripheral vision. Once again there’s silence but it’s short lived.

“The Divine created a writ in case her plan failed to restore peace between the mages and the templars,” Cassandra responds quietly, and taps a book on the table with a gloved hand. It is thick and old, filled with secrets Calliope assumes.

“What does that mean?” they ask, shifting their weight nervously.

“We are going to rebuild a group called the Inquisition, to find the Divine’s killer and end the conflict that led to her death. We could also use it to clean up after what happened with the Breach,” the Commander answers for her, and Calliope raises an eyebrow at those gathered around the table.

“It must be invoked by both of the Divine’s Hands, and will be with or without Chantry approval,” Cassandra says, shooting a withering glance at Roderick who sighs.

“You know how I feel about this Seeker-”

“And I don’t care. This is the only way, you know that!”

“We need to find a replacement for the Divine and quickly! None of this Inquisition nonsense will help us now.” The room descends into arguments and raised voices as everyone attempts to speak over the priest, who in turn raises his whine of a voice to disgustingly new levels. Anxiety and rage make the air thick, too hard to breathe, too hard to move in. From their spot at the other side of the space, Calliope watches that candle flicker once, twice, three times before it erupts into a roaring fire. All of their despair and nervousness centered on one singular wick that burns so brightly it lights up the entire room, banishing the shadows back to where they came. It’s certainly one way to get everyone’s attention.

Their arguments dwindle into nothing as they scramble to get away from the fire just as it starts to fizzle out and become a smoking ember. Consumed, wax and all, by Calliope’s magical presence. Embarrassment washes over them at the sight but they manage to hold it together while each pair of eyes comes back to settle on them. Calliope finally breaks the silence, that slimy sensation threading through their skin as they say in almost a snarl, pointedly at Roderick --who had decided to argue.

“Create your Inquisition, we replace the Divine and find her Killer. Maybe get answers about what the fuck happened to my hand. Does that sound good?”

There’s only a beat of silence before Roderick mumbles what could be a ‘yes’, easing Calliope’s volatile mood but not that horrific feeling of otherness wrapped around their wrist.

“We--should get you in touch with a proper Enchanter, I think,” Cullen comments in shock. A blurting out of words, really.

“There are mages here I can learn from, if it will soothe your fears, Commander Rutherford.”

“Perhaps we should take a recess? Cool down before we talk about our next steps.”

It’s Josephine who speaks, light and airy. Unperturbed on the outside by what just happened but the tremble in her hands as she grips her important parchments says otherwise. Calliope doesn’t blame her.

There’s a note of tiredness and defeat to their tone when they speak again, “I will get my magic under control, it’s been harder since the Mark. I’m sorry for scaring anyone. A recess would be good.”

#solavellan #dragon age #dai #pavellan #calliope lavellan #eventual pavellan at least LOL #mal writes #wolves without teeth

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whatissleepeven · 4 years ago

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I -

I can't stop thinking about it -

About what, you ask?

An Obey Me! and Fate/Grand Order crossover

(Warning: Long post ahead!)

Either the bois get summoned to Chaldea or they're able to summon Servants themselves

(...I'm leaning towards the first)

The tomfoolery! The shenanigans!

Imagine: Humanity's Last Master (aka you) ends up summoning them as they trek through Rome with Mash and the Servants they already summoned

They set up the summoning circle, but one minor mistake is made and the summoning glow looks a bit darker than usual and BOOM

"S-...Senpai...is this normal?"

You have no idea what's normal or not, I mean you're time travelling to save your people for fucks sake -

"Servant of the Rider Class. My True Name is Lucifer. Do not expect me to cater to your every whim."

...Wait he's a what now??

They were not supposed to have this whole "Class" thing designated to them (it's not how demonic summoning works he swears), and yet they do for some reason

(You can tell I had fun thinking of their Classes)

The introductions are...cold, to say the least

"Saber Class Servant, and none other than The Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed! I got better things to be doing, so don't go calling me whenever ya want, got it?!"

"Lancer Class...Leviathan. I have an mmorpg raid coming up, so I can't stick around."

"Berserker Class. My name is Satan. What? Are you surprised that I seem calm for a Berserker? It's quite alright; I get that reaction often enough. A word of advice: Be careful what you wish for."

"My name is Asmodeus, but you can call me Asmo darling! I'm a Caster, which is good. I can't mess up the work done on my nails and hair!"

"Hm...Oh? Sorry, I was thinking about lunch. Servant Class: Ruler. I'm Beelzebub, but most people call me Beel. Do you have any snacks on you?"

"Servant Class: Avenger. My name is Belphegor, but I doubt you'll be alive long enough to remember that. I won't do your dirty work for you, human."

You are just...done at that point. You are literally carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and their attitudes are not helping

"Yeah, yeah, here's the gist: there's a war going on and we're trying to save the planet. The future's been incinerated, and it's our job to fix what went wrong. I don't have time for your uncooperation; get on board."

(Mash is worried for your mental health)

It takes some time, but they do manage to open up to you

The main catalyst for this is when they heard you talking to Robin Hood, who was summoned in France

"Say, Master...I gotta ask: Why are you doing this?"

You pause what you're doing, shooting him an incredulous look. "You mean saving the world?" You ask in return.

He shrugs, tilting his head forward in a slight nod. "Yeah. There's other people who could do this, aren't there?"

"There isn't." The brothers hear you say firmly. Beel almost went in because he wanted a snack, but the others held him back; the conversation had peaked their interest, and they wanted to hear what you had to say.

"Robin..." Your voice comes out strained, as if you were barely holding yourself together. "I watched innocent people die in front of me. Good people. The world outside is gone. I can't even go see my family, because they're dead. I'm not expecting you to understand, but it hurts so bad that somedays I don't feel like getting up. If I die, it's all over; humanity's done. I'll never be able to see my family's smiles again, I'll never be able to hear their laughter; I'll...I'll never be able to go back home.

"So, instead of asking why I'm doing this, you should be asking "How far are you willing to go?" instead."

Robin is silent for a while. Mammon shifts on his feet. The Green Archer finally speaks, somber but curious tone filling the air. "And? What's the verdict, Master?"

Your voice has a tone of finality to it that shoots them back to the past, back towards the Celestial War. It's final, but it's tired. "Whatever it takes."

(And, so, the brothers come to understand and even sympathize with your situation a little bit. You had to fight for the sake of others without rest, you were a leader, you were a savior, but most of all...you were alone. And something about that didn't sit right with them.)

They would fit in perfectly with Chaldea's dynamics, actually

Mammon has a gold sword he lovingly calls Goldie (yes it changes into his beloved credit card)

His Noble Phantasm is literally him raising his sword and mountains of Grimm burying his opponents from the sky as he cackles out:

"Don't worry, I'll take all that money off ya hands!"

Or, in a proud declaration:

"My sword is my love, and my love is my sin. I'll take all that you have on ya! STULTUS IN AVARITA!!"

(Translates (from Google) to "Greed of the Fool")

(It also gives you an increased drop rate in materials)

Leviathan's weapon is his trident

He's surprised that he wasn't summoned as a Rider, once he got used to the "Class" thing (which was fairly quick, he's seen an anime like this before). I mean, he has a giant snake named Henry 1.0 and Lothan that he would've loved to fight side by side with

He usually doesn't fight, but he proves to be invaluable in Okeanos since he has knowledge on war strategies at sea

His Noble Phantasm is a bit strange, but endearing (sad). He rushes forward with his trident glowing, saying either:

"I can't get the latest Ruri-chan merch because you blew up the world...I won't forgive you. I can't forgive you!"

Or, in a somber tone:

"Even though it's fun, a gamer's life becomes stifling if you keep playing by yourself. I hope you're watching, (Y/N)! EX SOLA INVIDIA!!"

(Translates (from Google) to "Envy of the Lonely")

(Chance of Death increases with Overcharge, and it hits a single enemy)

Satan? Even though he's a Berserker, he behaves more like a Caster (initially)

He's holding a book that shoots out beams of pure energy at his opponents

His Noble Phantasm is...more violent

"Ah, so you've decided to call upon my Noble Phantasm...don't blame me if it's too much for you."

Or, he begins in a deathly calm voice:

"I am me; that's all I need to be. I know this, so why...? Why does this happen? TELL ME! "

He discards his books altogether, grabbing a single enemy with his bare hands and ripping them to shreds.

Asmo’s skill is charming his enemy, which confuses most people since you’d think it’d be his Noble Phantasm

Instead, it boosts his allies’ attacks and NP by 30%

“Don’t get too hurt out there~!”

Beel’s Noble Phantasm heals all allies and increases their attack

“We can’t fight on an empty stomach.”

(Once he hits his last Ascension, your party gets the added bonus of him attacking a single enemy with a lance. All other Ascensions has him using his fists for attacks.)

Belphie’s Noble Phantasm is almost as violent as Satan’s, and yes...he chokes out a single enemy out (rip MC)

“HA! You think I’d work with the likes of you, a lowly human? Get out of my sight.”

It’s Instant Death, unless Evasion or Invincibility is activated

Lucifer’s pride is a bit wounded. He’s a Rider, of all things??

(...He eventually gets used to it though)

His Noble Phantasm is him literally mounting Cerberus and raising his spear towards the heavens, looking as radiant as the days before the Fall

“It seems drastic times call for drastic measures. Cerberus, I trust you to handle things here.”

And Cerberus runs forth, either chomping the enemy in two or breathing fire at them and turning them into ash. (It hits everyone)

Satan and Jekyll hang out a lot because, well...they’re a lot alike

Mammon can and will do stupid shit with the Cu Squad and you cannot change my mind

One time he teamed up with Cascu to steal the other Cu’s spears (Mammon wanted to sell them on Akuzon), and well...half of Chaldea is still in repair to this day

Merlin of all Servants is the one to look after Belphie and Beel

They usually hang out in the garden Robin tends to, Asterios occasionally joining them while bringing both food and Euryale

Asmo frequently visits Medea, dragging Medusa into their group

(Dantes grows fond of Beel overtime, I mean Beel is just so pure there’s no way you couldn’t like him)

Lucifer and EMIYA butt heads at first, but they end up becoming friends despite that

Lucifer admires EMIYA’s skill to keep up with Servants who have a black hole for a stomach, and EMIYA admires Lucifer’s skill to round up his brothers effortlessly when the need to arises (or so he thinks, because he does not know about the Hate Lucifer Club which is run by Satan and Belphie).

Levi and Fran have a pure kind of friendship that must be protected at all costs

He shows her new animes and games, and even though she’s confused most of the time she never fails to listen to his ramblings, nodding whenit was appropriate

BONUS: Undateables (+ Luke)!

Solomon’s situation is...peculiar.

He’s not a Servant, but he behaves like one??

(He’s actually a mage that helps you on your journey to save humanity)

Unlike Da Vinci, he’s able to accompany you to the Singularities (free of charge, too!)

Once he sees the other Solomon, all he says is “I see...interesting.”

(Ngl he probably figured out everything by the time you all went to Okeanos)

Asmo also drags him into his group (consisting of Medea and Medusa), offering to paint his nails as they talk about anything and everything

Simeon is a Lancer and you can’t change my mind

He’s more of a buffer for your team, like Asmo. His skills are primarily healing, and his NP saps the health of an opponent while healing someone other than himself with that health (he cannot heal himself)

He gets along great with Karna!! The two are so nice and kind that it hurts to look at them both for too long

Solomon tells him about the gossip Asmo has on the other Servants. He always listens with an amused look on his face.

Luke is a smol Caster, but he will not hesitate to break your kneecaps

He, too, is a buffer for your team

“I’ll defend you from those demons, (Y/N)!”

His Noble Phantasm heals all allies, restoring their health by 20%

He bakes with Fsn Cu at night, having Proto Cu and Robin Hood try out his sweets. Beel is there 10/10 times, eating any failures or rejects

Diavolo is Ruler Class because he is literally the Ruler of Hell

Surprisingly (to you, at first), he’s the one who always asks to accompany you. He’s very open and considerate, wanting to help wherever and whenever he can

“The Human Realm is essential if we are to establish harmony between the three Realms. Without it there...angels and demons would fight each other for eternity.”

He tells you about his ideas for an exchange program and you offer him input

His Noble Phantasm is applying Invincibility to two allies for 3 turns after dealing heavy damage to a single enemy (cannot apply Invincibility to himself)

He likes to talk with Caster Gil and Archer Gil about their past, going to Ko Gil on occasion. He helps look after the child Servants, and he can often be found reading bedtime stories to them

(Everyone was scared of him at first once they found out who he was, so he usually held off revealing his True Identity)

Barbatos, at first glance, seems like an Archer...but in reality is an Assassin

(HE CONTROLS TIME FOR F*S SAKE)

His Noble Phantasm, depending on the enemy selected, can revive a fallen ally and add them to the Sub Team

(This is only if the enemy that killed the ally is selected)

This stuns him for 3 turns no matter what

He likes to chat with the Tamamo that helps EMIYA in the kitchen. How the two are communicating without issues is up to anyone’s guess

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tessadoesstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Sunset Queens - Chapter 6

For The Naboo Review Day 6 - Culture

Sorry this is late! My laptop corrupted my chapter 6 & 7 so I’m re-writing them :/

full story on ao3

Padmé Naberrie dips her toes in the canal outside her home, watching the water run over her bare feet. It was brisk but not too cold, and it’s a hot day out, so Padmé performs an ungraceful scootch forward across the sidewalk, closer to the water, and drops her legs down into the canal, submerging them up to her knees. The bottom of her dress is wet by that as well, but Padmé can’t bring herself to care. The rich purple fabric drifts beautifully in the current.

With a sigh, Padmé flops backward, sprawling her upper body on the stone pathway. Padmé can’t bring herself to care that she is technically in the way. No one uses this pathway, not since construction left it a pathway to nowhere when Padmé was little.

Padmé pulls the blue-purple hood down from around her face and lets the sun shine on it. It’s immediately warm – the sun is beating down today – but Padmé finds she doesn’t mind. After being inside of Theed Palace all day, it feels nice rather than unpleasant.

Padmé was going to miss doing this once she was queen rather than queen elect. From what she’s seen thus far, the queen of Naboo can’t exactly get away with lying in the street. Really, Padmé wasn't expecting things to get easier after she was elected, but she had hoped that maybe she would be easied into the increased workload of being queen. Padmé doubts she has ever been more wrong. Padmé barely feels like she has time to sleep anymore. Padmé has only made time to do this by ignoring her schoolwork.

These days, Padmé’s mornings are spent with her future handmaidens, undergoing extensive training in order to be able to protect themselves, conduct themselves properly, move as a team, and all the other duties that a handmaiden performed that were less publicly well know. (Spying. The handmaidens are spies.) After that, Padmé has two hours for all her studies and then has to rush back to the palace to shadow Queen Réillata for the afternoon, and often for more formal events in the evening as well. Shadowing the queen is no walk in the park – she is for all intents and purposes, another one of the queen’s handmaidens, and carries herself accordingly.

Both her parents and Panaka actually think she is with Queen Réillata right now. Padmé feels a little guilt for lying to them. Not a lot though, since the water and sun both feel really nice.

“Padmé?” A familiar female voice carries down the hallway, and Padmé sighs.

“Go away, Sola.” Padmé groans. Her sister is the only one who knows to find her here.

“Oh, is that your sister’s name? I confess I couldn’t remember other it when we spoke, so I just called her Lady Naberrie.” The voice calls back, and Padmé’s brain restarts as she’s suddenly able to place that voice.

“Queen Réillata!” Padmé shoots upwards into a sitting position as she catches sight of just the queen’s feet. Unfortunately, as she pulls herself up from her sprawled position, she does it far too quickly, and Padmé pitches forward and with a screech, Padmé falls into the canal. The water is only cold until she’s fully underwater, and when she resurfaces, finds the water a nice, cool temperature. Padmé hadn’t realized how warm she was until now.

“Are you alright, Padmé?” Queen Réillata moves to the edge of the canal, a concerned look on her face. Padmé can’t help it. She giggles a little.

“I’m fine.” She looks down at the purple and blue handmaiden’s gown she’s wearing, which is now as completely wet as she is. “I don’t think I’ll be able to wear this tonight though.” She comments, which to her surprise, pulls a full laugh from Queen Réillata.

“Do you want a hand getting out?” The older girl asks, crossing the street to where Padmé had been sitting. Padmé bites her lip. She knows she really should get out. This is the queen in front of her, and she does have places to go soon. Every lesson the Diplomatic Youth Program taught her says that Padmé should get out of the water now. But Padmé doesn’t really want to get out of the water.

In Padmé’s moment of hesitation, Queen Réillata launches back into conversation. “Is the water in this part of Theed cold this time of year? I know some of the canals are snowmelt, but I don’t know if they are here.” Padmé is struck by how much Queen Réillata knows that she still doesn’t know but answers the question anyway.

“It’s not to cold. It’s nice actually, on such a warm day.” Padmé responds. “I didn’t know any of the canals were snowmelt – but I don’t think this one is cold enough to be?” She adds, her own confession. Queen Réillata nods in acknowledgment.

“Alright then.” Queen Réillata responds casually. Then, in her long sky-blue gown and matching cloak, without so much as removing her ornate gemstone necklace, Queen Réillata throws herself into the canal next to Padmé. It sends ripples through the water that throw Padmé around not unpleasantly, and Padmé feels her grin widen even as she’s taken with shock.

When Queen Réillata resurfaces, the water and the current have washed all of her ornate makeup off, leaving only the big grin to decorate her face.

“Your Majesty!” Padmé protests and Queen Réillata makes a face at that.

“Please, just call me Réillata.” She insists and then splashes Padmé. Before she knows what she’s really doing, Padmé splashes Réillata back. Somehow, without the elaborate makeup, Réillata feels less… untouchable. Padmé supposes that’s the purpose of the makeup.

“I… okay,” Padmé responds with a smile, which is brightly returned. Gently, Réillata moves through the water to where Padmé has been treading and catches one of her hands.

“Padmé, is everything alright with you?” Réillata asks, which catches Padmé totally off guard.

“What?” Is her dignified response.

“You gave my handmaidens and I quiet a fright when Captain Panaka told us you were supposed to be with us,” Réillata says in a soothing tone of voice that places no blame, but still, Padmé feels a rush of guilt.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just…” Padmé trails off, trying to explain what had happened without sounding lazy or ungrateful.

“You just needed a little break?” Réillata finishes, and Padmé ducks her head.

“Yeah.”

“That’s totally alright.” Réillata finishes, and Padmé glances back at her in surprise. “We all need that sometimes. This can be a lot, especially at the beginning.” Réillata pulls Padmé into as much of a hug as she can while they both tread water. “Next time, just let me know, and I’ll cover for you with Panaka.” She whispers to Padmé conspiratorially.

“Really?”

“Oh absolutely. We’ve all been there. He can be… a lot.” Réillata says as though confessing a great secret. Padmé snorts.

“Definitely.” She ducks under and out of Réillata’s embrace. “We should probably go, there’s still probably time to get changed before we have to be back at the palace.” Réillata grins.

“Or, we can use the change of clothes I brought to go see a show at the theatre instead.” She says sneakily, and Padmé can’t help but look at her in surprise. Réillata shrugs. “It’s important for me to spend some time with my successor.” She pauses. “Also, a queen needs to take a night off here and now as well.”

#nabooreview2021 #Padme Amidala #Bail Organa #naboo queens

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anemeraldknight · 4 years ago

Text

About Duke Cadash

I was “tagged” by @emerald-amidst-gold :p

Name: Duke Cadash

Alias: Herald, Inquisitor, Master Cadash (does this count?)

Gender: Male

Age: late thirties, I don't think I want to settle on a specific age (not just yet anyways); he’s a bit younger than Varric but only by a few years

Species: (surface) Dwarf

Zodiac: aquarius / aries / cancer / capricorn / gemini / leo / libra / pisces / sagittarius / scorpio / taurus / virgo / unknown

Abilities/Talents: Duke is an archer and I think he’s gonna specialize to be an artificer. Because of his background with smuggling and having to deal with all of that crap, he’s incredibly good at tracking and finding necessary things from around him in the wilderness. He’s also an absolute beast when it comes to card games, so Varric watch out.

{𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙}

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: Because his parents were cast out of Orzammar and thus Duke was born casteless and grew up as a surface dwarf, his parents still believed in the Stone and instilled this belief in him as well. He's not super into it or anything, keeps it to himself mostly and is not bothered with protecting the ideology too much. Also, working as part of the Carta taught him that it's very important to use every little piece of information/thing to your advantage, so that is why he won't denounce those who think he is the Herald because he knows that them believing it could benefit him and the Inquisition. He's only admitted that he thinks it's bullcrap to Blackwall thus far. To others he usually says that he doesn't know what he thinks.

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: Common tongue, a bit of Antivan. Idk yet

Family:

Friends: Best friends with Blackwall and Solas, will probably want to take Cole under his wing. He has growing feelings towards Cassandra but also Dorian so he is conflicted on what to do. Also has a bit of a crush on Josephine but he'll soon realize that they're not really that compatible so they'll end up as really good friends I'd say. He also gets on really well with the Iron Bull and Krem. Varric's also fine but Duke feels a bit weird about him because he finds out that Varric used to work against the Carta in Kirkwall so he feels a bit.... embarrassed about it? Just conflicted? Idk there’s something there anyways.

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual (panromantic) / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship status: single / dating / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating/ (at the moment because he's just arrived at Skyhold so I'm not very far at all ╥﹏╥ )

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

{𝑃ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙}

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby / obese (a thick mann)

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue (very very light though, almost grey) / green / black / other (gold)

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other

Height: he’s taller than Varric so uhh like 5′ ?

Weight: unknown

Scars: The most prominent scars are on the right side of his face, basically next to the nose on the cheek and then also a bit through his right eyebrow and above it. He has smaller scars all over his body because of his previous line of work, but the biggest one is on his left thigh where he once got shot with a crossbow bolt. He took a long long time to recover and the situation was pretty dire - luckily Duke managed to pull through though. It's still painful on most days though so he has to rub numbing ointment onto it before he goes anywhere, especially exploring. He doesn’t wanna let others see it though.

Facial Features: He has a very beautiful prominent nose and freckles all over his face from spending so much time outdoors. When you look at him head-on you can see that his nose is a bit crooked (to the right) because one time he broke it, it didn’t heal properly. He has hooded eyes but they’re pretty big and very long yet sparse eyelashes. Because he’s an oldd mann he’s also got quite a share of wrinkles and since becoming the Inquisitor he has developed dark circles underneath his eyes. He also has nice luscious lips ;) Oh! And he keeps his beard very clean and groomed. Every morning (if possible) he redoes the braids in it and combs it and stuff. He’s incredibly proud of it.

Tattoos: No tattoos. Even though he respects the Stone, he's very proud to call himself a surface dwarf and to him tattoos on dwarves, especially facial ones, only belong underground.

{𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒}

Dogs or Cats? uhh neither :/

Birds or Hamsters?

Snakes or Spiders? (Duke is afraid of spiders, and I mean afraid)

Red or Blue? Yellow or Green? Black or White?

Coffee or Tea? Ice Cream or Cake? Fruits or Vegetables both?

Sandwich or Soup?

Magic or Melee?

Sword or Bow?

Summer or Winter? Spring or Autumn?

The Past or The Future?

{Tagging}

Literally anyone who wants to do this, it's really fun!! You won’t even have to tag me lol

#dragon age #duke cadash #miidragonage #personal #aaaaaaahh i love talking about my OCs so much asuhisfkjdfn i wanna do this for all of my Dragon Age characters noww #inquisitor cadash

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years ago

Note

fluff prompt: “You’re an idiot.” “But you love me.”

for the dragon and the wolf? :3

A bickering old couple you request? Ohhh, yes~! >:3 If it's one thing Fane and Solas do well, it's grow more and more exasperated with each other's less...thought out moments. PFFFT!

-----

"What is Fane doing?"

Solas and Mhairi were standing side by side when the latter asked that question of him; he with his arms behind her back; she with her own folded in front of her. They were currently watching the aforementioned man, Cole and Varric flanking him, as he knocked on an elemental barrier with an obsidian gauntlet. The resounding thrum had Solas closing his eyes for a second, the magic reverberating unnervingly along his skin and mind, before he reopened them and heaved a soft sigh. This boded poorly, but he would not interfere. His dragon would learn this time.

...Hopefully.

"He is preparing to dispel the barrier.", Solas said with dryness and a blank expression. 'Dispel' was perhaps too generous of a term for this display. He dispelled; Fane disturbed.

To match his thought and what nearly had Solas letting out another, more exasperated sigh, Fane butted his shoulder against the barrier--magic warbling before it lashed out with tendrils of fire, causing the reckless man to jump back quickly with a snarl and a scowl. Cole would occasionally glance back at him, veiled eyes peeking through blonde bangs with the same question that Mhairi had posed, 'What is he doing?', but he merely shrugged and continued to watch. Again, he would not interfere. Mhairi's voice came again, more questions with its lilt.

"Dispel?", the woman asked, turning her gaze towards her brother once more. Solas caught how petite hands squeezed themselves with anxious energy, but whether she knew what Fane was about to do or not, he had no clue. "How is he going to dispel that barrier? He doesn't have any way of doing that."

"Indeed he does not.", Solas agreed blandly, actually feeling his face deadpan further as Fane ordered Varric to launch a barrage of bolts at the crackling ward. The two men had to scramble away when those projectiles ricocheted; the arrows were on fire, as well. Unfortunate.

Mhairi cringed at his side, but relaxed as the two men appeared unharmed; Fane only seeming more annoyed and Varric merely laying upon the ground in a position that said, 'Why did I sign on for this?'. Cole hovered around the defeated dwarf like a baby bird, concerned and confused. Solas wished he could answer that question of presence for the poor Child of the Stone. Sadly, he could not beyond saying it was to clean up mistakes not the dwarf's own. Just as he could not interfere despite how this debacle had his more scholarly nature crying for release. A simple spell of ice would negate the barrier, or any, truthfully, but he would let his dear, idiotic dragon learn that when one touched fire, they were bound to get burned.

"Do you think we should--?"

"No.", Solas shot down Mhairi's question immediately, glancing down at her and raising an eyebrow when she only pouted up at him--bottom lip protruding rather childishly. Such a look would not sway him.

"But, Solas, he'll--!"

The Dalish woman attempted to argue once again, but Solas merely turned his gaze away and refocused it on Fane, who was now on his own and glaring literal daggers into the barrier before him. How painful this was to watch. How desperately he wished to aid the one who had aided him countless times for countless ages.

But he would not.

"Lessons must be learned, da'len.", Solas explained, inner exasperation growing as he felt a ripple in the air. He growled under his breath. "Fenhedis lasa, ma'isenatha. Why must you do this every time? More force does not cause them to fall like a body of flesh and bone."

Mhairi stared at him, obviously confused and lost before turning her gaze quickly back to her brother, but Solas knew all would be made clear as a spectral claw appeared along the length of the Fane's arm--blue and silver swirling with magical essence and whispers of ice. An ivory visage was twisted, vines and flowers of Sylaise matching the contortion easily, as Fane let out a deeply, deeply primal snarl--one that made Solas shiver despite his annoyance, but he steeled himself as that spectral arm pulled back.

Class was in session. Unfortunate.

Mhairi's eyes widened. "Wait, he's going to--?", she began before seeming as if she wished to run forward to stop what was about to transpire, but Solas placed a hand upon a delicate shoulder, squeezing it firmly and halting an unneeded flight. "Solas, he's going to--!"

"I am aware, da'len.", Solas said, calm and once again, flat. He knew this line of actions all too well. All. Too. Well. "Let it play out."

Mhairi's head snapped up to him, blonde hair whipping around with her. "What?! But the barrier will--!"

Before known words escaped frenzied lips, the sound of an explosion echoed around them. Solas heaved a loud sigh and flicked up a barrier without a tremor in his hand to shield both he and Mhairi. The young woman let out a screech of surprise and fear, immediately scrambling behind him and finding purchase on his robes with her hands. He barely flinched at that. This too was a common occurrence.

"Explode.", Solas finished Mhairi's earlier statement with so much dryness he thought his voice would crack and flow away like sand in the Approach. "As would any force when more force is enacted upon it."

As the smoke and fire cleared, and his barrier slowly decayed--Fade borne energy wiggling back through the tears he had made in the fabric holding it back--, Solas saw that both Cole and Varric had thankfully managed to get to an alcove in time to shield themselves. They had unfortunately been too far for him to reach, but so was one other. One that was now, not surprisingly, laid out upon the ground, chest rattling with harsh coughs and snow white hair coated with ash and soot, as was the material of their armor. They were, however, in one complete piece, so the minor panic in Solas' chest abated to be replaced by his common friend this day; exasperation.

"I trust you are not burnt too horribly, Inquisitor?", Solas called out to the other man, keeping his position of distance for the time being. Mhairi was still behind him, but he caught the sight of her head peeking around from his peripheral. He could feel her want to bolt forward, but the fire seemed to have spooked her to the point where she couldn't.

"I'm..cough..fine!", Fane called back, voice raspy from smoke and possibly a shout of his own that had been swallowed by the explosion. "I got the...cough...barrier!" A lazy hand came up to point at the entrance to the cave; it was, in fact, open and free to traverse.

"Well done, vhenan.", Solas praised, but he kept his voice literally dripping with sarcasm and with the air of not being impressed at all. "Although, perhaps a minor spell of either I or your sister would suffice next time? It would certainly help in keeping your foolishness from leaking through."

Solas watched as Fane's head craned back upon the ground, emerald and gold looking far more brilliant due to the appearance of blackened soot. They spoke with a thousand words, a thousand voices, and he could see that his dear dragon was not pleased with his words. Oh well.

"What are you trying to say, you old fool?", Fane snarled out at him, but Solas was unfazed, so used to these words and this haughty display.

Solas shrugged. "In short terms?", he asked, raising an eyebrow before smirking when Fane nodded once for him to continue. "You are an idiot."

Solas heard Mhairi softly gasp from behind him, but he paid it no further attention as Fane's face flashed with several emotions; disbelief, indignation, anger, but then...warmth. The appearance of that had him blinking, brows drawing together. Interesting. Usually an answer such as the one he'd given would spur his dragon to sulk and glare until his eyes shut for the eve. But this time, Fane appeared...conniving; he had something up his sleeve to retort with.

Unfortunate, but also, welcome. How the fires blaze. How they burned and allowed him to wash clean.

Fane hummed, head slowly moving back to its former position so that emerald and gold could gaze at the very sky they had once witnessed from a different view. Vines of Sylaise went lax as an ivory visage went lax, softness making his dragon look centuries younger and like he did not have the weight of the world upon his shoulders. The sight nearly had Solas taking a step forward, suddenly eager to join his heart upon the ground, but he went rigid when rumbling words exited fondly smiling lips.

"But you love me despite that." Fane chuckled, hooded eyes rolling back to him with more fire than the dissolved barrier could ever possess. "Isn't that right, ma tarasyl?"

Solas felt his whole body, but most importantly, his face blaze at that utterance of Elvhen and Common. Now, this was not something expected. Fane rarely voiced his affection so publicly, so unabashedly--emerald nearly drowning in gold as emotions ran high and voice loud to project it for all to hear. A tiny giggle from behind had Solas quickly bringing a hand up to cover part of his hot face. It would appear he had been bested. Unfortunate, but not unwanted.

The 'oooo' from Varric however was highly unwanted. It would seem he was flanked and would soon be quartered. How foolish for him to think he was in complete control.

"Perhaps I am the idiot.", Solas muttered to himself, smirking behind his hand as he continued to keep he and Fane's gazes locked, entwined. He did, however, usher the giggling elf behind him forward with a gentle hand. "If you would, da'len?"

Mhairi offered him a knowing smile, raising an eyebrow. "What about you, hah'ren~? I bet a kis--!"

"Mhairi. Go.", Solas commanded tersely, but could only sigh as she let out another giggle before bare feet and short legs hastened to her brother's side. Fane was still watching him, but his eyes were quiet, silently asking him, 'Too much?'.

Solas smiled a bit at that and only shook his head, doing his best to answer as only dragons could.

'More would not be unwanted.'

He knew his message was seamlessly received when golden-emerald orbs widened and an ivory visage flushed several shades of delicate pink, usually flat lips going slightly agape before they clamped shut with coyness. Solas chuckled fondly as he found his legs again, seeking to join Mhairi in assessing the damage done, but all he could think as he closed the distance, as Cole and Varric moseyed their way over, and two toned orbs met his own again was:

'I do love you, my dragon. Every side of you. The anger and the care. The tears and the laughs. The intelligence and the idiocy. I love every side, and one day, I hope to scream it as you do--unbidden and until my lungs burst.'

#prompts #oc: fane lavellan #solas #solavellan #idiots *affectionate*#they are fools your honor!#fane exploits the greatest lie in dragon age inquisition #*the barrier can only be destroyed with an element opposite of it*#...LIES BIOWARE #DRAGONS SEE THROUGH YOUR LIES #hope you enjoyed it! <3 #working on more multiple character interactions too~! :D #dragon age #my writing #dragon age inquisition

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edda-grenade · 4 years ago

Photo

Everything.

Adaar finds a strange elf in the woods.

#feral verse, 1100 words. on AO3.

The elf gave Adaar a look of sheer panic, then vaulted himself across a fallen tree. She gave chase, her heart hammering with exhilaration.

“Wait!” she shouted, “wait, I just want to ask you—”

They broke through underbrush, both of them heedless. When the resistance suddenly gave way, Adaar had a split second to regret the carelessness, ever so slightly, before both of them barreled headlong into a pond. The water splashed, drenching her. But she couldn’t care, didn’t care, because she had caught up to the elf. She grinned breathlessly.

“You’re a mage, right? Teach me!”

“What?” He scrambled backwards, churning up the mud of the pond’s bottom. “No?! Absolutely not!”

This was already going almost as badly as the Circle mage a few years ago. The woman had thought her a demon at first, and nearly broken a leg trying to get away. Undeterred, Adaar went on—she’d gotten a spell out of Lucille, too, despite their disastrous first meeting.

“I saw you use magic,” she insisted. “I promise I’m not trying to get you in trouble!” She summoned a little light between her dripping hands. “See? I can use it, too. I just want to learn.”

“No,” he said, voice wavering, “I cannot—”

She felt the water surge with cold, the crackle of magical energy, and suddenly he was gone, a smear of fog and ice crystals across the pond. At the far bank, she saw the shape of him fall into existence again, before disappearing again into the forest.

Her heart thundered in her chest.

Stars, she had to find a way so he’d teach her how to do that.

A few hours later, she managed to spot him again, near the cave where she had first seen him. He ducked behind a tree almost instantly, but she couldn’t hear the tell-tale sounds of escape through the woods, and neither did she feel the wave of cold that had accompanied his earlier disappearance.

Maybe a different tactic was in order.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” she yelled to the forest at large. He had to be half-starved, he was so scrawny and ragged. And he didn’t have vallaslin, which meant he most likely had no clan to help him. “How about I bring you some food, and we can talk?”

To her surprise and delight, it actually worked—after a fashion. The next morning, he edged out from the foliage, eyeing the pack of salted meat and bread in her hands. She watched him scarf everything down at breakneck speed, then find his self-control just in time to offer her the last scrap of bread. She tried not to laugh.

“It’s fine, eat it.”

Slowly, he took it back and chewed it, watching her right back now, his expression guarded.

“Thank you,” he said afterwards, his voice scratchy. She had noticed it the day before, too, but now in this quiet unmoving moment it was all the more blatant. Worn-out like the rest of him.

“You’re welcome,” she said gently. “My name’s Adaar—well, my given name. I haven’t chosen my own yet. What’s yours?”

He stared at her.

“What? Did no one ever give you a name?” He looked away, mouth tight, and then he got up and stalked a few yards away, like the question was too abhorrent to even allow in his vicinity. The skin at the nape of Adaar’s neck prickled.

“Or just make one up,” she offered. “Choose anything you want. What do you want to be called?”

She watched his back and shoulders tighten, his ears tilting down from some terrible emotion.

“Solas,” he said after a long silence. “Call me that, if you must have a name for me.”

Adaar grinned, inordinately pleased.

“Teach me magic, Solas.”

There was that stare again, surprised and wounded. And then, his expression turned… wistful, almost.

“I… I am not suited for the task.”

“Bah, that’s nonsense. You can learn teaching, too. We can figure it out as we go along. Here, I’ll start: that disappearing thing you did, how does that work? Why is it so cold? Does the ice matter? Can you do it without, too?”

He disappeared. She felt the tug of the Veil, that shift of power. So the ice wasn’t essential—but still…

“See, that’s not very efficient teaching,” she called out. “Could have just told me I don’t need to throw frost everywhere to jump like that.”

“I am not teaching you,” came the tight-voiced reply from somewhere in the underbrush.

“Sure,” she said airily. “Same time tomorrow?”

Around her, the forest was silent except for the wind and the birds. Not a yes—not yet.

The day after, the idea for a new tactic had apparently occurred to Solas as well. He ignored the food and before she could even get the words out to ask again, he fixed her with a dark glare, his posture like an animal poised for flight—or for lashing out.

“Do you not know how to take no for an answer?”

Her cheeks and throat flushed hot. “Of course I do,” she snapped. “But magic’s different. You think people are lining up to teach someone like me magic? In ten years I managed to wrangle three people into it, and yes, I figured some out myself, but it’s still a drop in the ocean.”

That grim expression crumpled, and he turned away, pulling up the hood of his cloak. Hiding. Adaar grit her teeth and followed him.

“There is no one else to teach you?” he asked, like some terrible truth was finally dawning on him.

“No!”

“What of your—your parents? Magic runs in bloodlines for your people, does it not? Why are they unable to give you instruction?”

She blinked. For what people did magic run elsewhere?

“No,” she said again, slowly. “My tama—it’s not—they can’t.”

Solas stilled, although he didn’t turn around. “Why not?”

“Because it got poisoned for them,” she spat. “Believe me, I wish on every last star it was different. But there is no one, and I want to learn everything.”

He said nothing, silent and frozen. He didn’t look at her—but he also didn’t flee.

“I can get you more food,” she tried. “If you have nowhere to sleep, you can sleep with us. We can give you shelter.”

“You’re too generous.”

“I’m trying to bribe you.” She touched his ragged cloak, gave it a gentle tug. “But even if you won’t teach me, we’ve got enough to share. Then again, maybe some spiced meat will change your mind. It tastes amazing.”

He shivered visibly. Before she could decide whether that was a good or a bad sign, he faced her again, giving her an inscrutable look from beneath the hood of his cloak.

“Do you truly wish to learn everything about magic?”

Oh. Oh.

She tried not to smile too widely, and instantly gave up.

“Yes.”

#adaar #solas #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #da.i #saar gets her own tag #feral verse #inquisitor #art tag #fic tag #fic related #fanart #FINALLY #I'M SITTING ON LIKE 7 OF THESE ALREADY

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potatowitch · 4 years ago

Text

Quality of Life Wishlist for DA4

This will be a very long one but I have some Thoughts about little tiny things that I think are missing from Origins, DA2 and Inquisition that I hope Bioware thinks about when making DA4.

Make banter guaranteed to activate every 15 minutes or so, regardless of where you are, unless you are in combat or a conversation with an NPC.

Make armor look different depending on race/origin. My Dalish elf shouldn’t be forced to wear shoes just because the other three races would. Same goes for stronghold/home outfits/pyjamas - why you have to download a mod to let your elf wear the elf NPC clothes in Skyhold I’ll never know. They’re literally already in the game.

Let the MC respond to companion banter more, even if it’s the way Hawke does in DA2 where a dialog wheel doesn’t show, they just make a small comment.

Make it easier to increase inventory size, similar to buying backpacks in the first 2 games. Having to spend Inquisition perks to increase inventory size bugs me.

Better hair options! Even if all the “long” hair options have to be updos to minimize clipping, there is no reason to have fifteen different variations of “bald/shaved” and only one “long hair that’s been put into a braided bun” option. Give me LONG ponytails. Side braids down the front. Pig tails. Elaborate braided buns. Long hair that’s been pulled back from the face. Space buns. Anything.

Tintable weapons. Bothered me to no end when I would make a dragonbone weapon in Inquisition and it had to be that weird orange gold colour.

Let me swim but please do not make me fight anyone underwater. Every single time it happens in a game, any game, I want to vomit.

Make companions actually utilize the jump function. I don’t know how difficult this would be to program but I got real sick of companions getting stuck behind fences because they didn’t realize they could jump.

Let me make my own notes on the map. An example: adding a pin that says “saw a dragon here. come back later when higher level”. The original Neverwinter Nights game did this and I loved it.

Way to do some war table functions without having to return to a stronghold, similar to how the Descent DLC did. For example, I should be able to do every war table mission from Skyhold, but if a war table mission takes place around the Hinterlands I should be able to order it to be done from a table in Redcliffe.

A different quiver. Please. Even if it works the way it does in Skyrim where it matches the bow. I am So Bored of the same quiver that matches none of my armor.

Companions have their own personalised mounts that they summon when you get on yours, so they can ride with you and they can still banter. World of Warcraft does this with companions on the Broken Isles in the Legion expansion and I appreciate it. Imagine Blackwall having a black horse with Grey Warden insignia on the saddle. Vivienne’s horse being a beautiful white stallion with an elaborately braided mane.

Expanded tactics, similar to the first two games. I miss being able to tell Alistair “hey if someone attacks Barkspawn please immediately taunt them”.

Please consult someone who actually wears makeup on what shadow, liner and blush are meant to look like.

Let me save a preset in the character creator so if I want to replay my main I don’t have to take a million screenshots of my sliders then try my best to recreate them from an image. I should not have to install mods to do this.

Don’t make me travel to Kirkwall to change my hair. In both DA2 and Inquisition your character has a bedroom, why can they not just have a little mirror on top of their dresser to change hair and makeup? Fair enough if you want to change facial features, tattoos and scars, but hair and makeup? Come on.

Better eyebrows and lashes.

Please include ALL tattoo options from Origins, DA2 and Inquisition, ESPECIALLY if we’re bringing back the Warden, Hawke or the Inquisitor for any reason.

Let me give my elves cartilage piercings. Let me give everyone facial piercings.

More diverse body types, even if it’s similar to the way Bioware does it in SWTOR (you have petite, “average”, curvy and buff options - it’s not a lot, but it’s better than what we have). I really like the system that Guild Wars 2 has where you can pick a base body type from 10-15 options and also edit your height, but I know that might make things difficult to program for cutscenes.

Can I have some healing spells back? Even if it’s just one or two? Don’t love how if I’m out of potions in Inquisition all Solas can do is be like “here. have a barrier. hope you don’t die because my resurrect is on cooldown lol”

Find a balance between Inquisition’s “you only have 8 spells slots” and Origins and DA2′s “your action bar covers the whole bottom of your screen”. Maybe 12 spell slots?

If we must have a “squad goes to a party” level, please make the outfits pretty and race/origin appropriate and Do Not give everyone the same outfit. Better yet, upon entering the level, bring up a temporary character creator that’s like “here are a couple of outfit options, also do you want to change your hair and makeup for this mission specifically?”

Body scars and body tattoos, especially for Dalish elves. Let my vallaslin go down to my titties.

A more customisable HUD/UI. Let me make my quest tracker smaller! My action bars smaller! My companion portraits SMALLER! They take up so much space!

I really hope they bring back the companion armor system from Inquisition. I love how the basic armors look different depending on which companion you put them on and I hope they keep that in DA4.

Let me choose whether hats are visible for specific companions. I don’t want everyone wearing their helmets but Cole’s hat, Vivienne’s headpiece, the flower crown, the Qunari face paint and the mage hoods are Important and I like them and want to see them.

Capes? Can I have some capes? I’d like a cape.

#dragon age #dragon age 4 wishlist #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #dragon age inquisition #how do tags work #long post #trinity is rambling again #i have Opinions ... again #i typed this up with Inquisition unpaused in the background hoping it would help me get the Dorian and Bull romance going #but no #all that happened was solas and dorian bickered #no input from bull at all #thanks dude #uh #dragon age 4 #is that everything i need to tag?#lmao

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