#i am guilty of a white haired lavellan :/

[devilbrakers]

NOTABLE FIGURES OF THEDAS --

silas tabris, thalia hawke, and zathrion lavellan.

[x]

[pinayelf-archive]

before the inquisition

tagged by: @inqsmabari​ and @bitchesofostwick​ thank you guys <3

tagging: @elffyness​, @wardencommanderaeducan​, @mybookswerealltome,

name: Imryll Lavellan

layer 01: the outside

eye color: black

hair style/color: long black curls, braided when the clan moves or if she goes out to forage for plats

height: 5′0

clothing style

day wear: simple embroidered linen dresses, layered leather and cotton tunics and cloaks when the clan goes somewhere colder 

night wear: traditional dalish festival/celebration wear. in my canon this dalish clan is inspired by filipino culture, so her dress will look something like this. A colorful sleeveless or short-sleeved linen top, a long woven skirt with Dalish embroidery, and a sheer blouse made from banana leaves (though when the clan moved to the Free Marches they had to make do with alternatives)

bedroom: a long tunic, thickness depending on the temperature

best physical feature: her long raven curls, she takes very good care of it and follows the step by step routine her papae taught her (he also has curly hair), and probably her eyes, they are pure black w/ a white ring in the middle and it’s distinct and resembles beautiful onyx stones

layer 02: the inside

fears: disapproval, losing everything, failure, being alone, becoming the keeper, (tbh imryll is scared of many many things lol, anything that poses danger)

guilty pleasure: plushies, sleeping in

biggest pet peeve: when people tell her she is naive in wanting to be kind or when she is treated like a child

ambitions for the future: find a way to tell deshanna that she doesn’t want to be the keeper, and possibly find out what happened to her brother

layer 03: thoughts

first thoughts waking up: “i’m tired”

what they think about most: her brother iefyr, and what happened to him, if he’s really dead or not

what they think about before bed: “I hope i have time tomorrow to [do something botany related]”

what they think their best quality is: her big heart

layer 04: either or…

single or group dates: single, imryll isn’t very good in bigger groups lol, maybe if they were all friends, no strangers

to be loved or respected: to be loved

beauty or brains: brains (imryll is known mostly by her peers and clan for her brains)

dogs or cats: bunnies 

layer 05: do they…

lie: only when she needs to

believe in themselves: no

believe in love: yes

want someone: she has her girlfriend liranael (lol :’) then she dies hahahahahaah)

layer 06: have they…

been on stage: no

done drugs: no matter how many times tala has asked her to smoke some elfroot she says no!!!!

changed who they were to fit in: imryll has never really put herself in situations where she HAS to, maybe during arlathvens so she didn’t feel awkward

layer 07: whats their…

favorite colors: pink, yellow and purple

favorite animal: bunnies!!!!!!

favorite book: not a book, but she loves the romantic stories the hahren tells 

favorite game: sungka

layer 08: i…

i love: “my family and liranael” (lol i am getting sad writing this bye)

i feel: "unsettled almost all the time”

i hide: "the strong feelings and emotions i feel in fear of being seen as too much”

i miss: “my brother”

i wish: “i told iefyr not to go on that hunting trip and instead asked him if he wanted to help papae and i gather herbs”

[delsinsrowes]

Character: Lorelei Lavellan

Prompt: Out of the 7 deadly sins, which one is your oc most guilty of?

To those who simply called her the Inquisitor and knew her achievements to be sealing the rift, she was calm. Scarily so some have come to say. Many see her as a woman of little emotion, knowing her job and doing it quickly and correctly. However, to those who really know her they see a side that is not put together, not pretty, not silent and strong. 

A few nights after Iron Bull almost lost his Chargers, Lorelei found herself in the cozy room dedicated to her in Skyhold. Her bed was ornate, one of the few things she put a lot of money into that was for herself - white all along the headboard and base with golden details. She was told that it was Orlesian, but cared little of the origin. Her hands slid over the silken sheets cresting the edge of her bed. They were a deep red. The sun was setting, and the air was getting cold. 

I should close the balcony doors, she thought to herself. Her legs wouldn’t move though. Her hands were gripping the sheets so hard that she felt her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palm. She chose to save The Bull’s Chargers, but it still somehow felt like the wrong decision, and she hated that. There was a lot that she hated. She hated Iron Bull for making her choose, she hated the Inquisition for putting her in this position of power, she hated the rift for simply being there, she hated Corypheys for his stupid fucking plan of becoming a god, she hated the very concept of a god, she hated everyone who followed her for being so willing and stupid and blind, but most of all, she hated herself.

Her back made a heavy thunk sound as it slumped along the edge of her bed. She couldn’t control herself, her body shaking as she started screaming and pulling her hair. She didn’t care much if anyone heard, why would she? So they could rush up to her and make sure she was okay? To ask if the mark was fine? She was a glorified tool and she knew it, but it hurt. She felt a dull pain in her chest. Longing or maybe loneliness, they sat in the same part of her. In the darks of her eyes, the tips of her fingertips, and the soles of her feet. She wanted to be away from everyone, but she’s grown attached and she couldn’t stand it. She wanted to kill everyone if it meant that she could stop feeling so dependent and weak.

Lorelei sat there, the heels of her hands pressed so deeply into the sockets of her eyes that whenever she looked up she saw stars. Then, she saw Cole, sitting on the railing of her balcony looking towards her with interest.

“What do you want?” She had sounded so angry, the words short when they left her mouth, not like herself at all - or maybe too much like herself. She couldn’t find it in her to figure out which one or to care.

“I want you to be alright. You are filled with rage, a demon would think of you as a friend in this state.” His leg sways slightly when speaking.

Lorelei chuckles, but it’s a dry sound that gets caught in her throat. “Maybe I am a demon. One crawled in my skin and now I’m just a puppet leading everyone to their inevitable end.” She looked away from him as she spoke, knowing that she sounded utterly pitiful.

“Many meet their ends with the Inquisition, and many more will. Death is all encompassing, discriminating against no one and clutching to those who are willing, and especially those who are not. Screams and sighs of relief are music to its ears. The difference is that you care.”

Her head snaps up to Cole after hearing him say that. She stands to her feet quickly, even if they shake.

“That is precisely the difference! There are people dying all around me, and for what?! Because I gave an order? Because I didn’t?! I am one woman, Cole! I am single-handedly leading these people to their deaths all because I have this mark on my hand that I didn’t even want! They call me the Herald knowing that whatever gods they pray to will never hear their name on my lips! I want it to be anyone else, if they wanted to die for something so fucking badly I will make a simple decison and let them go. Just, anything so they will not look at me anymore!” She was trembling, her voice was raw and hoarse. Her silver hair, normally up in a non-fanciful but delicate bun was undone and wild; parts sticking in every direction. To anyone else she may have looked mad, she surely sounded it. But Cole looked at her, and then looked deeper.

She was mad, but just that. Angry. Ironically so and he could almost laugh about it. She was so fearful that she held so much power, that she was leading these people to die, that she would blindly kill them to get away. Her fear turns to anger quickly, he learned that about her soon after meeting her. She was very still and quiet, but forceful when needed. It was different from the way Josephine and her nobles were though, there was a wildness to Lorelei, something that let her detach from the politics and games that everyone played. Many saw her as selfish, but Cole just knew that she was self-reliant and perhaps didn’t have anyone else.

He went to her, she was seething, breathing heavily and eyes red. Cole held out his hand to her and stated simply, “You do nothing single-handedly. I will look at you as nothing but a friend. Your title means very little when I know that you don’t want it.” He reaches for both hands that lay at her side, taking her left and placing it in his. He waited for a long time, until slowly she squeezed his hand. Then, she’s falling back to her knees and Cole doesn’t quite catch her before she hits the ground, so he sinks with her and holds her hand the whole time.

“Why am I so angry and why do I care that others do not see it?” She looks up at Cole slowly, gripping his hands as if he was her only hope. Maybe, Cole thought, he was.

He looks down at her hands, calloused but still somehow so soft. Very her. Very Lorelei.

“You do care. You care so much it wells up in you like a fire. Or perhaps, like snow. Falling lightly until it isn’t. Until it’s too heavy and you cannot take it. You were alone for a very long time. Nights spent freezing and alone, the stars your only guide and your skills your only savior. You are not used to being relied on, much less looking to others. You are angry because you feel like you are both too much and not enough.” He looks at her deeply, trying to look past her eyes and into whatever part of her soul was willing to listen. 

“You can breathe. The world is reliant on you,” he notices how she tenses for a moment, “and you’re allowed to hate that.”

Lorelei’s eyes dart around Cole’s face, not knowing what she was searching for. Familiarity and understanding is all she finds. Then she cries, not the deep rage-filled cry of before; a soft one. A different vulnerability from the one before. Instead of being afraid of not being able to keep everything in she was now afraid of what would happen if she did. She pulls her hands from Cole’s and hugs him, hands pulling at the back of his shirt until the fabric was balling up in her palms. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t like being touched, not because she didn’t like it or because she liked it too much, but because it was a reminder that things were real. It wasn’t a dream. Every handshake from a noble or hug from someone who’s life she saved it reminded her that she means something. So she clung to Cole like he meant something and cried until she couldn’t breathe out of her nose and her throat hurt.

“Do you feel any better?” Cole spoke after awhile. Never pushing her to stop or encouraging that everything would be okay. He just let her be angry and sad and herself. His hand rested on the top of her back, lingering, but not expecting.

Lorelei pulls away from him, not looking him in the eye due to being embarrassed and because her eyes were so puffy she probably couldn’t see him if she wanted.

“I feel lighter. I feel more like myself and less like a demon.” She flops down onto her bed with a pitiful sigh. “Thank you. I am very fortunate to know you Cole.” Her words were muffled between the sheets of the bed, but she was sincere.

“I very much understand that relief. I am always here for you, Lorelei. Many people are, but when your anger becomes the biggest part of you I am here to be a friend.” Cole stands to leave but stops when Lorelei speaks.

“And when my anger isn’t? What then?” Her voice is rough from crying, making her sound anxious, or perhaps she was.

“Even then. Especially then. I know you find comfort in your anger. So I will be there when you are happy, or sad, or incredibly embarrassed.”

Lorelei laughs, a real laugh this time and slowly makes her way underneath the heavy cloth of her bedding. She lays there for a long time even in her exhaustion, she just kept staring at the mountains cresting the top of the world. Instead of her hating everyone and bristling with rage she just looks. After a long while she closes her eyes and enjoys the sensation of the wind rushing through her room. In the morning she would be woken with papers to look over and orders to give, but until then, she committed the sound of a quiet world to memory.

[timeforelfnonsense]

No Love Like Your Love

Part of my Wasteland, Baby! Fics: Nobody

Solavellen 

Inquisition time frame, early to mid relationship 

first time

 Part one 

NSFW

Well I did it folx. 

This is the second part of The Waterfall. I always kind of knew how I wanted this to play out but it was a bit out of my comfort zone. I hope you like it! Be soft with me.

Read it on A03

                                                “Care for a swim?”

She extended her arms over head as she removed her top tossing to to the side revealing her pale shoulders to the moonlight. Solas could feel heat rising in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. She was beautiful, extremely beautiful and he would be lying if he claimed the thought of her bare for him had not passed his mind in their time together. Her hands we on the waist of her leggings now. She wiggled her hips playfully as she shimmied them down her backside.

He bit his lip eyes never leaving her sultry form. She pulled her silver hair to one side exposing her alabaster neck before wading into the pool. He just stood there on the river bank dumbfounded and hard as she went deeper into the water. Ashalle Lavellan, spontaneous and free spirited as ever, he thought. She must have noticed his hesitating on the waters edge.

“Hey, if you don’t want to, we don’t have to. You can even close your eyes and I’ll tell you when I’m dressed.”

He laughed in a tone she had never heard before; it was honest and unrestricted. He shook his head before speaking, “You are the most rare, beautiful thing in all of creation. It- It has just  been a very long time and this is something I want to do right.”  

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Her voice was full of desire, “however I’m concerned you are a bit overdressed for the occasion.”

“ Ma nuvenin.” He chuckled, pulling his tunic off first and casting it into the heap of Ashalle’s clothing. She watched eagerly from the water as he began to unlace his breaches. With the last of his clothing discarded he waded out to her. As soon as he reached her, her lips were crashing into his; her hands exploring the lean muscles of his back. Solas cupped her ass, pushing her body closer to his. He nipped at her neck, kissed her with a fire she’d never felt before. Her breath was short and sharp as curious hands traveled down his torso.

“See, I knew I wouldn't fall for someone who couldn’t misbehave,”  She cooed as Her hand grasped his cock.  

“ Vhenan!”

Ashalle revealed in the shakiness of his voice, flashing him a smug grin before returning to her work. Solas bucked against her as she pumped. The heart stopping look in her eyes, the boldness with which she worked his body, the softness of her hand, held him captive to her charms. He willed himself to pull away from her despite his every desire to allow her to continue.

“That’s enough for now, my heart.”  

He kissed his way down her neck, leaving a smattering of purple marks across her collarbones. He made his way to her perky breasts. He glanced up his hungry grey eyes meeting her’s before taking one of her nipples into his mouth, earning him a purr of approval. His hand dipped below the surface of the pool. His fingers found her pearl, rolling it slowly. She ground herself against him aching for more. When he moved to her entrance, she let lose a moan, bracing herself against him.

He should feel guilty, he knew this would not last forever. Eventually he’d be reunited with his orb. He would obligated to leave her in order to set the world right, still, he could not refuse her. She was his sweetest downfall, the brightest light in a tranquil world. She was vibrate and real, she made him feel young and wild. He laced his fingers through her delicate hand, calming the sparking anchor.

“Las mala enansal?” He Kissed her forehead.

“Of course.”

She gasped as they joined. He moved at a slow rhythmic pase, savoring the feeling of her warm around him. He could never began to deserve her; her kind heart, her body, her spirit. He’d taken his share of lovers in his very long life, but she was different. In all his life he had known no love like her’s. Somehow this broken world had created something so rare. He had not realized it but tears had begun to form in the corners of his eyes.  

“Ir mirthadra, Ashalle’ enaste” He whispered between frantic kisses.

“Solas?” She cupped his face in her hands, thumbs wiping away his tears, “ Ar lath ma.”

He can feel her nearing the edge and tightening around him . He closes his eyes and prays that the veil will not spoil his spell. He kisses her neck, burying himself in her snowy curls to hide the blue glow in his eyes.

“ Ar lasa mar sulahn'nehn,”

The Veil thins for just a moment and they fall into bliss. She threw her head back, grasping white knuckled to his shoulders. He doesn't intend for a prideful chuckle escaped his chest but, he could not help himself.  

“What in Mythal’s name did you do?!?” She pants as he slides out of her, kissing her shoulder, “I have never felt anything like that before… I-I couldn’t tell where I began or you ended. It was like we were the same… I can’t explain it.”

“What do you think I did?”  He asked handing her clothing over to her as she rung out her hair.

“I think you did something to the manipulate the veil, somehow joining our experiences?”

“Clever woman.”  He pulled his own clothing on, “Are you certain you aren’t a mage?”

“But, how did you do it?”

“Always so curious,” He kissed the tip of her nose. His hands running over her marked neck healing magic turning purple to cream, “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Fine, fine don’t tell me, I’ll figure it out. I always do.” She poked a finger to his chest, “We should get back before the others start to worry. Thank you. For everything.”

Solas took her hand in his and began to walk back to camp, “ Ar lath ma, Ashalle, you truly are a marvel.”

Translations:

Ma nuvenin: As you say

Las mala enansal: Do you grant your blessing?

Ir mirthadra, Ashalle’ enaste: I am honored by Ashalle’s Favor.

Ar lasa mar sulahn'nehn: I give you my joy/bliss

[juniper-tree]

Accidentally falling asleep together, pairing of your chois. If u wish, f course. Have fun

I did not want the year to end without filling my first ever prompt from my lovely @katnisshawke​ !  Legally this does fill the requirement but there’s a bit more than falling asleep.  

Cullen Rutherford x Finn Lavellan - Wind and flame

“I was worried for you tonight.”  

The midnight sky glittered over the hills beyond, and above them on the balcony.  Finn leaned against the balustrade, happy to let the cool, white marble keep her standing.  It had been a long night.  Cullen, pinching at the sash of his dress uniform, turned to face her.  The gold at his collar reflected the gold of his hair, set off the amber in his eyes.  She smiled.  

“I was worried, too” she said.  "We were almost thrown out before we ever walked in.“  

He quirked an eyebrow.  "Why?”  

Finn shrugged, and looked out toward the horizon.  "Some frilly noblewoman tried to order me around like one of these poor servants.  She called me ‘rabbit.’  I nearly tossed her into a fountain,“ she said with a guilty smile.  It was easier to play it off as a joke, to not let even him see how much it had hurt her.  

She expected him to laugh.  When he didn’t, she glanced over to see him staring down at the last drunken revelers in the courtyard, his jaw set tight.  "These people,” he spat, shaking his head.  

A tender bloom swelled in her chest.  She leaned closer to him, and brushed his gloved wrist with her fingertips.  He met her eyes, and they shared a shy smile.

“I’ve been wondering, what do you think of this place?” he asked.  "Just…“ He gestured to the courtyard below.  "The finery.  The gardens.”  

Her eyes wandered over the quiet fountains and carefully arranged planters, the white stone cast blue under the night sky.  "Well, it is beautiful.  The plants are luscious.  The scents are phenomenal.“  She sighed.  "And everything is sculpted within an inch of its life,” she laughed.  "Do you like it?“

He didn’t look at the gardens.  He looked at her, his expression so gentle, and shook his head slowly.  "I prefer something much more natural.  Something wilder,” he said, smirking, and she was glad that was what he preferred.  "Everything here is quite… formal and stiff.“  

“Like these uniforms,” she said, trying to stretch the tight red sleeves of her jacket.  "The sooner I get out of this the better.“

He cleared his throat, trying to hide a smile.  "Being a gentleman,” he said, “I can’t address that statement with any propriety.  But they aren’t all bad.”

“You say that because you’re the only one who looks good in it.”  

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said, inching toward her.  

“You like me in this?”

“Actually, I was thinking of Bull,” he said with a laugh.  "He looks very smart.“

She laughed, too.  "It is remarkable to see him in a shirt.”  

They were quiet for a few moments, enjoying the night air, the low bubbling of the fountains below, and music from another room.  Finn watched Cullen, half in her shadow with the moons behind her.  After the fights, the intrigues, the deaths, it calmed her to see him stilled, breathing deeply, his hands steady and folded on the marble rail.  She had worried for him, too.  Those Orlesians had surrounded him like a pack of hungry wolves, and Cullen had looked all too aware of their intentions.  Having lost an empress, and gained an emperor, surely they had found new preoccupations.  She lightly stroked his back, and he looked up, pulled from his thoughts.  He searched her face.  "How much longer do you think this will go on?“ he asked.  

Though she hoped the end of this night was near, she had no clue.  "A few more dances, perhaps?”  She leaned back against the balustrade.  "It does seem odd to me the the ball goes on, after everything.“  

He craned his head around the doorway to look at the dancefloor, and she did the same.  Some couples were still dancing, most were huddled in hushed groups toward the edges, holding their wine glasses with stiff hands.  Their masks did nothing to hide the tension, and excitement, so clear in their every move.  

Cullen turned back.  "But the ball does go on…” he said softly, his eyes cast down.  He smiled to himself, and then held his gloved hand out to her, bowing.  "May I have this dance, my lady?“  

She took in the sight of him, his bright uniform and golden hair aglow in the moonlight, his smile gentle and sure.  He could have been the beautiful son of some visiting lord, or a prince himself.  She saw what those nobles might have been looking for.  But they could not see what she did: the scars he laid bare to the world, and the scars he didn’t show; his eyes longing for something he could not speak into words; his heart.  

She wanted to run to him, to run away with him.  If only they could.  She tilted her head to the side.  "Are you serious?”

The gentle smile strained.  "Don’t make me ask again.“

She reached for his hand, and folded her fingers around his palm as he pulled her close to him, wrapped his arm around her waist and gripped her side with a rigid hand.  Cullen took a wooden step forward, and she tried to follow.  Her own legs felt as though they were made of stone.  He showed none of the grace or smoothness of motion she had seen when he sparred, when he battled.  If his fighting was more like dancing, would either of them make it through a dance?  

Cullen was whispering, nodding, repeating to himself something by rote.  She attempted to mimic his movements, or let him carry her through, but they seemed to move at odds to each other.  He held her tightly, but at a distance.  "You know, you didn’t have to,” she said.  "When I asked you to dance, I was only teasing—”

He shushed her, his eyes closed tight, shaking his head.  "I’m losing count.“  

It might have been hopeless, but his effort made her smile, so she resolved to match it.  When he turned her, she moved with him, rolling forward in his arms—only to step on his foot.  He grimaced, but tried to hide it.  Then he stepped forward onto her foot.  

“To be honest,” she said as they attempted another turn, this time with less pain, “this isn’t my kind of dancing, either.”  

“You looked like an expert with the Duchess,” he said, squeezing her hand as he moved her forward.  

“She did everything!  I was a puppet in her arms.”  Finn moved closer to him, hoping to slow down their steps.  Slower might mean safer.  "She even dipped herself,“ she said.

He laughed, and slowed to match her.  It seemed to work, as he held her more gently, and leaned his head toward her ear.  "And what is your kind of dancing, my lady?”  He said her title with a sweet sarcasm.  

“Ah, well, I suppose…” His breath on her neck, beneath her ear, made her shiver.  "There aren’t steps, as such.  You just… feel it.“  She pulled him closer to her, their bodies pressed tightly together, legs nearly entwined.  They were no longer stepping, but swaying.  

"Like this?”  His voice was barely a whisper.

“No,” she sighed.  "Nothing like this.“  She leaned her head on his shoulder, the red wool of his jacket scratching against her cheek, his body warm through the fabric.  "This is entirely new to me.”  

She felt a low laugh rumble through him, and he stroked the small of her back.  "As it is for me,“ he said.  

They stood together, swaying, holding each other, feeling each other breathe.  "Everyone can see us out here, you know,” Cullen said.  She remembered, suddenly, where they were, and why they were they there.  And she realized it did not matter just then.  

“True,” she answered.  "Do you care?“

His nose was buried in her hair, and he took a deep breath.  "No,” he sighed.  

The music faded from the ballroom.  Soft applause drifted through the open doorway.  The ball was ending.  

Cullen whispered in her ear, “Are we staying here tonight?”

She squeezed his shoulders and relished the pleasure of his breath, his voice, against her skin.  "I believe so,“ she said.  "Why do you ask?”

He pulled away from her to look into her eyes.  "It’s been a trying night,“ he said softly.  "I… I just want to be alone with you.  Away from all this.”  He reached a hand behind her to cup her neck, his fingers weaving gently into her hair.  

“Hmmm.  I would like that,” she said, her eyes falling shut, until he paused and straightened himself.  

“We could leave,” he offered.  "Get the carriage, head back tonight.“

"What about everyone else?” she asked, bringing her hands to stroke the sides of his neck.

At her touch there he reddened, and looked away.  "They can ride with the soldiers, they don’t bite.“  He sighed and moved her hands from him, holding them in his own.  "Or they can hire a carriage, if they insist.  Besides,” he said, “taking the Inquisitor back so she can rest is a fully justifiable use.”  

“Ah, and she needs an escort, of course.”

He smiled slyly.  "I believe I am suited to the task.“  

She considered for a moment.  It sounded too good, too much like what she wanted to do to believe it could really be possible.  But if Cullen said it could be done—serious, practical Cullen—then she believed it.  

"All right,” she said, grinning.  "Let’s get out of here before anyone notices.“  Finn looked around for an exit, and the only one available was the back into the ballroom.  "Want to jump the balcony?”  

He laughed, but pulled her closer, as though he were afraid she meant it.  "No, I think I know a way that doesn’t risk broken bones.“  

They slipped past the glittering ballroom and its last, drowsy dancers to the west stair entryway.  In the dark corridors, dozing sentries slumped in doorways, clutching empty bottles of wine.  Through a maze of shadowy foyers and terraces, they found their way to the stableyard.  While Cullen spoke with the carriage driver—she could hear promises of time off and extra pay for a late night trip—she leaned against the stable wall and looked up at the two moons overhead, one a pale cream, the other dusky rose.  Their orbits often kept them far apart.  Tonight they seemed to embrace.

"Inquisitor!”  Josephine’s sparkling voice rand through the quiet stable.  Finn turned to see her approach with Leliana.  "There you are!“  

Cullen peeked around the side of the carriage, and his face fell.  

"And it appears you had the same idea we had.”  Josephine stood on her toes and peeked into the carriage window.  

“Not staying in Halamshiral,” Leliana finished.  

Josephine surveyed the interior.  "Yes,“ she said, dropping back to her feet, "I believe we will all fit.”  

“Who is all?” Cullen asked, folding his arms tightly across his chest.  

“We four,” she began, counting on her fingers, “Cassandra, Varric, the Iron Bull and Marquis Etienne, who wants to see Skyhold.”

“Maker, we cannot all fit.”  He gestured to the carriage, which did not look capable of containing such a crowd.  "Bull will take up half the carriage on his own.  Hire another,“ he said firmly.  

Finn watched this exchange with a smile.  She knew what they wanted was not quite possible.  This time, anyway.  She would gladly exchange a small desire for a large one in the future, if the world worked that way.  "Cullen,” she said, “we all want to go.”  

He sighed, his lips pursed, but she could see him softening.  "Whoever doesn’t fit,“ he said, "takes another carriage.”  

“Of course,” Josephine replied, patting his arm.  

***

They all fit.  Barely.  Cullen was squeezed into a much smaller space than he would normally ever consider, but Finn nestled tightly beside him made him loath to complain.  Bull made himself smaller, too, and offered his lap to any takers, of which there were none.  

After some tired but pleasant chatter, the yawning began.  The hoofbeats and the bouncing of the carriage lulled everyone into a quiet, dreamy state.  Finn’s head began to nod first.  She leaned against Cullen’s shoulder, her arm drifted over him, her hand on his stomach, and she hugged him close.  She was asleep.  

Everyone looked at Cullen, and he felt himself redden.  They were not usually… public with their affection, but these were certainly constrained circumstances.  He thought about what she had asked him earlier, on the balcony.  Did he care that everyone could see them?  His answer had not changed.  

He put his arm around her and pulled her even closer.  Her head shifted onto his chest, onto the blue sash of his uniform.  He held back a smile.  It felt good, actually, to hold her here, in full view of everyone.  Proud to be the one she wanted, that he could make her feel happy, and safe.  He stroked her arm and leaned his head against hers, his cheek in the soft waves of her hair.  

Soon he, too, was asleep.  

Cassandra sighed, and rested her chin against her hand.  Josephine and Leliana exchanged a smile.  Varric looked at them with an approving nod.  Marquis Etienne paid 50 gold pieces to a smug Iron Bull.  He had stupidly bet Bull that the Inquisitor was Gaspard’s lover.  This was proof enough, for him, that it was not so.        

[sparemyocs]

Bystander

Maybe half an hour ago, things had been very different. Half an hour ago they'd been celebrating. More importantly everyone was alive, half an hour ago. Now though, they were in the Chantry, hiding from the wrath of a dragon. Possibly an archdemon. The smell of blood and burns permeated the premises: some people were hurt. Everyone was afraid. Hanhari, ever the good and kind First, had gone out of his way to save as many people as he could and had only just made it to shelter himself. He was talking with the war master of this place now, trying to figure out what to do.

The conclusion he reached made Miris' heart pound. He'd go back out there to distract the monster and his dragon. They'd escape along a back path or something of the sort, and he'd be most likely left to die in an avalanche.

"Da'falon, din!" She threw herself between himself and the door, hands pushing back on his chest and making him take a few steps back. If only in surprise, even if she was bigger than him.

"'Ma'halla, ryan. Re 'ma'shivanash shala ara'vhen." Hanhari took hold of her hands in his, smiling at her calmly.

"Mar vhen...?" Miris squirmed slightly, looking at all the people, the humans, around them. Truthfully it'd been easy to see the difference here, just how much happier he was. That didn't make it easier to accept though. Hanhari was supposed to be the Lavellan's First. Yet in his years with them, he'd never gotten as comfortable as he had here in a matter of weeks. The younger elf had connected with people here in a way he hadn't with their clan. She looked back at him, meeting his bright eyes. "Sathan juvagara."

"Ar'esayemah. Shia'i Blackwall sule min'dinem." He squeezed her hands before letting go altogether, slipping around her to go out the doors.

As they swung to a heavy close behind him, Miris could hear him giving orders to those he'd asked to go with him. Since she'd come she'd insisted on staying behind, merely helping keep things in order and providing him familiar company. As she dashed to catch up to Ser Blackwall's side, Miris wondered how different it would be now if she'd been bolder. Taken him up on his offers. Become a true agent of the Inquisition before it's destruction here. There was no point in pondering it. She'd already failed.

Spotting the man, she realized he was lagging behind somewhat as he helped an injured villager through the snow. No one would be left behind, of course, but they did need to go as quickly as possible. She swept under the injured human's free arm, lifting their other side up on her shoulders. Instantly they were moving with a bit more ease.

"Ah, thank you my Lady."

"Yes..." The villager sighed, "Yes thank you miss."

Miris eyed the bushy-bearded man for a moment. My Lady. That was... Nice. Too nice. It was a little frustrating that he could not have said it when things were still good and she'd been wanting to kiss him. "You are welcome," she looked to the villager, patting his chest to try and be reassuring. The huntress could dwell later, when things were not so bad. Assuming they did stop being bad later. Eventually. There would be time eventually she affirmed to herself.

Once the flare went up, Miris couldn't help often looking back. Haven was gone. The whole village buried like so many bodies. The sight crushed her lungs and sunk her stomach. Hanhari was down there. A literal body. His companions likely were as well. Cassandra, Sera, and that new man, Dorian. Four more people all gone like nothing.

And it was cold too. The chill was starting to sink through her clothes and skin and flesh down to bone. A storm blocked her view before distance did. It was a vicious thing, taking what could only be some feet away and obscuring it in a fog of white. The wind was soon blowing straight into their faces, snow sticking onto clothes and hair. None were left behind however, thankfully. Perhaps in the spirit of their lost Herald. Her lost First.

Miris wasn't sure how long they walked for. Probably not for as long as it seemed. It was at least, still nighttime when they stopped officially to camp. And thank goodness for the many who'd had the good sense to bring food and blankets and tents. It was crowded somewhat, and there weren't enough healers to go around, but under the cover of the fierce storm it felt somewhat safe. Sort of.

The huntress stayed close to Blackwall. She didn't know what else to do for now. She was as scared as everyone else. Scared of the Elder One. Scared of the evil templars. Sad... to have lost her friend. Other than the bustling of the healers, the whole camp was too quiet. Dozens of pairs of eyes glanced up, waiting to see the dragon come to finish them off. Time dragged on. It never came. Miris only stayed warm by virtue of Ser Blackwall keeping a heavy arm around her shoulders and keeping her politely near. Should have grabbed more blankets and coats...

Half an hour later, there was a fuss at one end of the camp. Miris leapt to her feet, scrambling over to see the cause of the commotion. Daggers drawn, just in case. It wasn't necessary. Somehow, through the storm, Cassandra, Sera, and Dorian had re-emerged.

"Hanhari? Sathan, sathan, where is da'falon? Where is Hanhari?! He was with you!" She grabbed at coats and armor, pleading with the survivors. Sera was too choked up and angry to give her a straight answer, outright shoving the Dalish elf away. Dorian was too guilty, never once looking the woman in the eye. Cassandra, both angry and guilty, managed to speak though.

"Once we had the trebuchet prepared, he told us to run. I... I was not sure we would make it, in truth, but it seemed we had more time than I would have thought. And indeed, the beast's focus was on him, as we were told. ...Hanhari, the Herald, he saved our lives as well." The woman's expression turned hard and certain, "We must give him time. There is a chance he could have survived, by some miracle, and I do not wish to see that chance wasted."

The Elvhen woman hugged her tightly. It meant little, but it was good that she cared enough to halt their onward march indefinitely. Just in case. Cassandra seemed startled by this, but hugged her back regardless.

"Cassandra... We left him cornered by a dragon and that... Elder One. I can respect a need for some hope but... Is it really wise to get our hopes up?" Dorian rubbed his arms, clearly cold and upset. Miris did not blame him, taking the human's hand and pulling him towards the tents.

"Sathan, ish'Pavus.... We should rest anyhow, sathan.... Let us wait, even if it is only because there is nothing better for us to do."

Dorian opened his mouth as if to argue, but he quickly deflated. "Well... I suppose we really don't have anywhere to go, do we? It... could still be quite the disappointment however, you know that don't you?"

"It is less disappointing than not trying at all." She pushed the man down onto one of the mats that had been laid down under the tents. "Be warm. You have done much already."

"If you say so... Thank you, ma'am." He pulled his hands up under his armpits, sitting cross legged and half curled in on himself in an attempt to preserve what little heat and good feelings he had left in him for the moment. Miris hoped very much that Mythal would grant them all mercy. They had worked hard to get even this far, and now there was an even worse fight ahead. Without Hanhari, it was doubtful that they'd have a chance. Moreover, no one needed the guilt of thinking that they'd abandoned (ordered to or no) their one chance.

More time passed, Miris returned to Blackwall's side and tried to sleep pressed against his back. It was better than keeping track of the time slipping away. Their chances fading in the dark and storm around them. Cullen and Cassandra gathered men to accompany them in doing rounds around the camp in the hopes of both finding their Herald while also not getting lost in the storm. Blackwall promised to wake Lady Lavellan if they found anything. Miris was grateful to him for this.

As promised, he did wake her.

Hanhari was tiny, back covered in frozen blood and unconscious in Cullen's arms. But Cassandra assured when Miris came rushing, alive. He was alive. Half dead and frozen stiff, but alive enough. There were so many healers. They would save him. They had to. Miris noticed that Dorian slipped in to help them. Already, the two young men had a bond that the woman recognized. Perhaps they also did, perhaps they didn't. Time would tell, and she would keep an eye on asa'da'falon if he ever needed help.

In the meantime, she sat back to watch the human's in charge bicker without Hanhari's calm, guiding voice, to watch the healers continue to buzz around the camp. Blackwall joined her again. She was thankful.

When Hanhari woke, the Mother fanned up fanfare around him. It was obvious he was overwhelmed, but the camp had needed the moment. Miris did not know the song, but she enjoyed hearing the Warden singing. Blackwall had a soothing sort of voice. It was a nice song too. Fitting of the situation in a way- Lost and in the dark and cold, but some way would be found to the sunrise. A good and needed message indeed. The singing ended, many people laughing at the newfound peace and it's slightly obsurd origin. Others began to settle into sleep. Miris was one of them, pressed up again against Blackwall's back, but he was lying down this time as well. The straw under them itched as it pressed up through her clothes but it was sufficient bedding. The man behind her was very warm, even facing away from her also. After the exhausting and long day, Miris had little trouble getting herself to sleep.

Mythal, ivys nuvenemah na. Na'ryas halani ish.

Ryan – I must

Re 'ma'shivanash shala ara'vhen – [It] Is my duty (done willingly and eagerly) to protect my people

Mar vhen – Your people

Sathan juvagara – Please come back

Ar'esayemah – I [am] about to try / I [am] going to try

Shia'i Blackwall sule min'dinem – Travel with Blackwall until this [is] over

Mythal, ivys nuvenemah na. Na'ryas halani ish. – Mythal, he will be needing you. You must help him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12717951

[fatallypink]

s/o to @dolllike for tagging me!! i tag @ready-set-fangirl @pincurlsandpixiedust @communist-waifus @shiratoriwowza @ukulelesandwich​ @tarmour9​ and anyone else that wants to do this!

1) Coke or Pepsi? coke

2) Disney or Dreamworks? disney!

3) Coffee or Tea? tea

4) Books or movies? depends on the book/movie (for example i will always prefer the original poto book to any of its adaptations) but generally i like to watch movies first before i read the book

5) Windows or mac? windows for sure lmao i hate apple

6) D.C. or Marvel? not super into comics but if i had to chose one then id say dc

7) Xbox or PlayStation? only have had an xbox, but honestly i dont care much for either (i prefer nintendo or pc)

8) Dragon age or mass effect? not into either

9) Night owl or early riser? night owl for sure... i hate getting up anytime before 11

10) Cards or chess? uhh cards i guess, i dont remember how to play chess

11) Chocolate or vanilla? vanilla

12) Vans or converse? chucks

13) Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar? uhh idk what this is from

14) Fluff or angst? angst... i live to suffer

15) Beach or forest? pacific northwest beaches are lovely

16) Dogs or cats? *insert the road to el dorado “both is good” gif here*

17) Clear skies or rain? warm n rainy is gucci

18) Cooking or eating out? eating out, i hate cooking food

19) Spicy or mild food? mild because i am white and a baby

20) Halloween/Samhain or solstice/yule/Christmas? halloween is so wonderful, best time of the year

21) Would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot? little too cold... heat triggers my illnesses so hot=pain

22) If you could have a superpower what would it be? being really good at one specific thing of my choice

23) Animation or live action? animation

24) Paragon or renegade? idk what this question is asking

25) Bath or shower? shower, again hot=pain

26) Team Cap or team Ironman? neither, this movie was stupid

27) Fantasy or sci-fi? fantasy

28) Do you have 3 or 4 favorite quotes if so what are they?

“the mind of the subject will desperately struggle to create memories where none exist...” (bioshock infinite)

“though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night” (the old astronomer by sarah williams)

“draw a monster. why is it a monster?” (daughter by janice lee)

29) YouTube or Netflix? i spend much more time on youtube soo....

30) Harry Potter or Percy Jackson? hp

31) When do you feel accomplished? when my room is clean, my face is moisturized, and ive finished all of my homework

32) Star Wars or Star Trek? star wars 100% im a sw hoe

33) Paperback books or hardcover books? hard cover, they look prettier imo

34) Fantastic beasts or Cursed child? fantastic beasts (im a hufflepuff so im glad to have some quality hp representation)

35) Rock or pop music? pop, but mostly like indie pop or kpop

36) What is the most important thing in your life? my fam and friends ofc

37) Mountains or sea/ocean? ocean

38) How do you express yourself? clothing/hair, also art and decoration

39) What’s the first book/film that really counted to you? i dont really remember any books or movies that i watched when i was really young, but i was soooo obsessed with pokemon when i was a kid and i remember seeing some of the movies in theater

40) What’s your element (air, water, etc.)? water

41) If you could travel anywhere, where would you go? seoul or tokyo

42) If you had any job in the world, what would it be? video game designer, professional costumer (esp for like period films or theater), or fashion designer

43) If you were granted three wishes, what would they be? a cure to be developed for my illnesses (that could work for like other people too), to have a lot of money, and to have trump/his office to disappear 

44) If you had to eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be? disneyland corndogs 

45) If you could only have one, which social media platform would you use for the rest of your life? instagram

46) Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor? already stated this but im a hufflepuff lmao

47) What’s your favorite food discourse guilty pleasure? i have no food guilty pleasures because i somehow was blessed w the ability to eat anything and never gain weight

(lunes question)48) who is your favorite character from a book/film/comic and why?: duck/ahiru (princess tutu) is my ultimate fav character ever... like #1 she is cute and goodhearted and p u r e  #2 she is such a klutz but she tries her best :’) #3 throughout the series she really grows and has such great character development, she is best girl and anyone who disagrees  can fight me personally 

my question: is there something that you regret not doing, or a chance you regret not taking? what is it and why do you regret it?

[thelastmorozova]

The Collector

A Solavellan Valentine’s Day piece. 

Dorian arranges a date for his favorite fatalistic elf on the tackiest day of the year: Valentine’s Day. Said elf is not amused.

-No warnings apply. Just some Solavellan fun and a little fluff in a modern Thedas.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all! Sorry for any mistakes. It is 3am, whoops. <3

This was to be an unmitigated disaster, he was quite sure of that. For one thing, he was already on his second cup of coffee, having drank the first one much too quickly and scalding his tongue in the process. The café was small, cramped in a way that made Solas feel claustrophobic. Paper hearts were stuck higgledy-piggledy upon the windows and shockingly pink walls while even more hearts hung across the ceiling like banners of war, projecting their tackiness. Even the tables had not escaped the invasion of pink, cups and saucers emblazoned with a heart shot through with an arrow; Solas turned the cup around so the affront would not face him, a nasty taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the coffee. The coffee was actually quite nice. Black and bitter, just like his love life.

Valentine's Day. Obviously a human creation, seeing how obsessed with love and desire they were. And definitely Orlesian. How else could you justify so much paper bannering? And pink. So much pink.

The couple beside him, a young human pair in their teens, were holding hands, eyes glazed over and looks lingering. As he watched out of the corner of his eye, the boy seemed to sigh longingly. “Your eyes are so beautiful. It's like the stars have fallen into the pool of your eyes.” The girl laughed coyly and blushed a deep crimson.

Solas may vomit if he was forced to endure adolescent drivel for much longer. He checked his watch; she was ten-minutes late. This woman, whoever Dorian had set him up with.

“You'll like her,” the man winked just after Solas had finally digested the news that his friend had found him a date for the tackiest day of the year. Murder seemed a little excessive, but he'd be willing to make an exception just for him. “She's weird, just like you. You can both be weird together and found a club for weirdness with you both as presidents. And then, down the line, you will both produce weird children and be in my debt forever.”

Dorian refused to divulge anything about the mystery woman other than her name: Ellana. No last name, Solas had noted. Probably some shrewd method to prevent him from searching online for his date. With such a name, he'd come to term with the fact that this Ellana was most likely an elf. When he had confronted Dorian about that fact, frustrated, his friend had merely groaned and launched into a lengthy explanation. “Don't take this the wrong way, but you are getting older, not younger. And not ageing gracefully, I must add. The vagabond look? It adds years. The lack of style? Hair? My, you could be a walking corpse and no one would be any the wiser. And really; do you really, truly desire to live the brooding bachelor lifestyle until you die?”

No, he did not. If anything, he feared such a wretched and lonesome existence. It was the unavoidable truth in Dorian's words that finally swayed him to this insane plan that he had hatched without his knowledge.

The door of the café opened with a cheerful tinkle, letting in the freezing air outside, a flurry of snow accompanying. Solas turned around very slightly so that he could look in the large oval mirror set upon the wall opposite, perfectly situated for watching the comings and goings of the customers around him. There; a woman wrapped up in a dark green duffel coat and matching woolly hat and scarf stood there, shoulders flecked with snow. She wrenched her scarf down and revealed bright eyes – what color, he couldn't discern at such a distance – that peered around the room almost timidly, hands clasped before her. Solas blinked and their eyes met in the mirror; he raised a hand in some semblance of a greeting and she smiled, winding her way through the chairs and tables in his direction.  

“Goodness me!” the woman exclaimed upon finding her seat opposite, brushing the dusting of snow from her shoulders. Not so timid after all, then. “I am perished. Just perished. Where did that snowstorm come from? I swear that the weatherman claimed light flurries, not a fuck ton of white.”

Crass already? “It came down from the north, or so they claim. The Free Marches have it especially bad according to the charts I saw this morning. Kirkwall is buried under at least three feet.”

The woman shuddered at his words, removing her coat to reveal a warm blue long-sleeved sweater below. “Gods above, I hope we are not next in line for that. I mean... I love snow and all, but not when I'm out in it. I have the grace of halla on ice. It's painful to watch.” She took the seat at last and finally looked at him.

Ellana was very beautiful, with thick black hair framing her small and rather red face; her cheeks glowed like embers from the cold. Her eyes reminded Solas of dewdrops upon forest leaves with how they were such an intense emerald. The pointed ears sticking out of her slightly disheveled and damp hair confirmed his theories that his date was an elf.

At least she bore no vallaslin. Dorian had gotten that right at least.

Ellana smiled warmly at him, easily meeting his curious gaze. “I'm sorry; I just launched into the weather, didn't I? You are, uh, Solas, right?”

“And you must be Ellana.”

“That I am. You do know Dorian... don't you? I've not been tossed together with a complete stranger? I mean... you could be an axe-wielding murderer for all I know.” She barked out an inelegant laugh.

She was definitely strange, Dorian had been right about that. But there was something strangely endearing about the way she prattled on without pause for thought. He couldn't place his finger upon it. “I do know Dorian Pavus. We have been acquaintances for a number of years.”

“Really? Well... same. He's never mentioned you?” Ellana frowned gently, shucking off her gloves. “I run a bookstore downtown. Lavellan Lit. So, are you a collector like Dorian?”

Dorian had definitely been hiding this one. A bookstore in the city that he'd never been to before? Preposterous. “I collect books of a certain antiquity, yes. Though unlike Dorian's fascination with the ancient histories of Tevinter and the Archon's of old, my tastes run another direction towards the Fade and histories of magical lore and Elvhen theory. And arts, if I can find them.”

At those words, Solas watched the woman's eyes positively light up with childish excitement. “Truly?” she pressed, “you collect books about Elvhen history? And magic?”

How refreshing it was to have someone look at his job, his hobby, with awe and not raised eyebrows and dismissive words. Solas felt himself relax the smallest of fractions in the woman's company. “The books and texts of the Elvhen are spread far and thin, hardly cheap at that, but yes. Tomes of magic are much easier to procure, but just as expensive. And enthusiasts scarce agree to part with them. It takes weeks of, ah, gentle persuading.”

Ellana seemed to blush beneath the windburn. “I have a few books myself. Just a few, given to me by a very generous and rich customer in her will. Lovely lady. Tales of the Dreamers and a number of scrolls and papers that date back to Arlathan, apparently. From the state of them, I believe them to be legit. I have tried to translate the words, but to no avail. No expert, no old Keeper of the Dales could fully translate the scripture. The words are very old indeed.”

Scripture... from the time of Arlathan? That was impossible. It was completely improbable. But if she was telling the truth and these mysterious scrolls were the genuine article...

“Forgive me, but-”

“Yes,” Ellana smiled mischievously, snagging his half empty cup of coffee and taking a generous gulp. “You can come back with me and look at them, if you desire. This place is much too pink for my liking. And the sounds...” she grimaced at the teenage couple next to her, who were kissing across the table now. Kissing? No, Ellana thought in lightly veiled disgust. They were practically eating each other's mouths. It made her feel faintly sick. “I think we'd be much comfortable at my shop, don't you think?”

Such a bright and cheerful spirit. Solas found himself smiling at her words. “I quite agree.”

“Come on then.” Ellana clambered to her feet with all the grace of a newborn halla on ice and yanked her hat back onto her head, stuffing her hair back inside of it. “Into the swirling Void we go. I hope you have a hat because like hell you're having mine. It's soaked. Your head would turn blue and then you'd get ill and die a very painful and cold death, leaving me feeling terribly guilty.”

As he shoved open the heart adorned door and allowed Ellana to walk out first, she flashed him a bright smile from within the woolly confines of her clothes. Solas felt the kindling of something that felt suspiciously like hope spring to life within him. He didn't curse it, but rather welcomed it instead. Maybe, at long last, his weary heart would know some semblance of peace.