#i ask myself too why this doesn’t feel like a solavellan story

[lagunapoint]

Cassandra swung the sword and inflicted a few sharp blows on the mannequin. Series of precise and hurried strikes were replaced by seconds of concentration, spent on controlling breathing and thoughts. She took several smooth steps to the side, directing the tip of the sword at the mannequin’s chest. Inhale. Exhale. A swing, and a few straws burst out of the mannequin, scattering under the onslaught of her sword. A couple of passersby recoiled in fright and, casting a surprised glance at Cassandra, hurried toward the tavern, looking back and whispering among themselves.

"Damn!" Cassandra cried out and lowered the sword, tightly gripping the hilt. She closed her eyes and tried to subdue the anger rising again, which her training had only been able to extinguish for a short while.

"Hey, Seeker, not a bad strike," came the brisk voice of Bull, who was watching her training nearby.

"Not bad," Cassandra repeated and looked at Bull, "but not perfect."

"You demand too much of yourself, and that’s not always good," Bull leaned his shoulder against the tavern wall and followed the redheaded church attendant with an interested glance. Cassandra noted the remark to herself but decided not to continue the conversation. At least out loud. She did not think she demanded a lot from herself. She demanded from herself only what was necessary. Necessity in her worldview was not determined by the concepts of much or little. It was necessary to train. It was necessary to deliver precise strikes. The blade must not slip. The steps must be exact and thought out, and even a slight unconsidered shift of weight or improper foot position would lead to a sprain or an ankle twist. She knew firsthand how lousy that was, and the thought of it caused an unwelcome memory of her first sprain and the subsequent lectures from her brother about carelessness that could kill her.

Besides that, she understood the need to find the sender of the new "gift" the Inquisitor had received this morning. The news that the Inquisitor had almost been lethally poisoned by a flower whose bud and petals were studded with poisonous spines invisible to the human eye spread around Skyhold faster than the new issue of The Randy Dowager Quarterlie. And Cassandra was enraged by the fact that she did not understand why Leliana and the Inquisitor were ignoring the danger of the moment, preferring slowness to action. And at that very moment, Solas and Dorian couldn’t resist the opportunity to flaunt their wit instead of delving into the magical nature of the problem. Their collaboration was too slow, reluctant, and usually accompanied by mutual reproaches. It was precisely Solas’s harmful, quiet snort under Dorian’s haughty gaze that became the last straw for Cassandra at the general meeting regarding the poisonous flower.

Yet no matter how angry Cassandra was at everyone around her, the main object of her anger was herself. This incident showed how surprisingly easy it turned out to be to get close to the Herald of Andraste, and her protection meant absolutely nothing.

A warm breeze touched her face, offering her comfort. She breathed, trying to calm the storm in her chest. Servants and refugees, messengers and revelers passed by her again, and every so often she noticed quick glances in her direction. She tried to ignore everything happening around her, but suddenly a conversation reached her ears, and she couldn’t help but listen.

"…they say there was an Orlesian crest on the pot…" "Yeah?.. And I heard that this plant is from Tevinter and is grown by mages on the blood of slaves who offered themselves in sacrifice without resistance." "How awful!" "Yes, Merelin. They say that if a slave resists, his blood is not suitable for certain rituals, but if he dies voluntarily, then it contributes…"

Cassandra could not stand it and snorted indignantly. What the hell do they allow themselves? Unthinkable. She sighed, trying to ignore the gossips’ chatter and return to her tension-relieving training. But their voices did not die down, and she lifted her gaze to the heavens, praying to Andraste that they would either fall silent or change the subject.

"And is it true that the Inquisitor was actually poisoned, and-" "No, that can’t be. The Inquisitor has court mages who should have lifted any poisoning right away-" "But one of them is precisely from Tevin-" "Enough!" Cassandra could not bear it. "The Inquisitor is fine. Stop speculating. And yes, you are undoubtedly right that our mages can handle any such troubles... Therefore..."Cassandra cut herself off. "Damn it!"

She abruptly turned to the mannequin and delivered a dull, chopping blow, hearing how behind her the quick footsteps of the gossipers were retreating. She thought she was forever stuck in her rage, until suddenly, as if from nowhere, a familiar voice sounded next to her.

❤️

[fenharel-babe]

For Evermore...

Solas x Lavellan.

Solavellan timeee. I was listening to “Evermore” from the new Beauty and The Beast movie and I LOVE IT and I see Solas in it,,,and the movie isn’t ‘new’ but ya know what I mean. Enjoy :)). 

“I was the one who had it all. I was the master of my fate.”

He had it all in his hands. He is the one who controls his fate, controls is actions, his choices, and his heart. But things change. Things always change in life. And Solas learned that once again, but not in the way he thought he would.

He honestly didn’t expect his opinions to change or his views to change, but they did. Everything changed when he met the Herald of Andraste, the chosen on, the savior to everyone, or as he saw her, Bloom Lavellan. 

“I never needed anybody in my life. I learned the truth...too late.”

And he felt things change. Not at once, but slowly. He began to like to be near her, he admired her for caring for everyone, because oh did she care for everyone. A man was a widow and he couldn’t go to his wife’s grave and put flowers, but Bloom offered to do it for him, and Solas didn’t expect her to do it, but she did. She dragged herself up all the way to the grave, all with a smile and happy conversations, and laid the flowers to rest. And when the scouts went missing, she put all her energy into finding them. She spent a few late nights up and he only knew because she told him. There were times when she went to the Rotunda and wanted to hear his stories. She always was out there but when she came to Solas one on one, she was a little anxious, and so was he. He didn’t understand why at first, but he slowly began to understand why. 

He began to fall in love with her. He realized it in many different ways, or he felt like he loved her and pushed it away until he couldn’t anymore. He told her the last story he could tell her one night, and he realized he loved her. Well, not then, but the day after. It’s because she became busy after that day and she still came to him. He was up late at night, painting, and she always came to visit him. She visited all her friends, but she stayed a lot longer with him. And sometimes...she fell asleep on the couch, and when she did he couldn’t help but look at her a lot longer than he should. He just couldn’t get over the way she looked. She was peaceful, her fire was blazing hot, yet she was cool and calm. He would stop painting and find a blanket he would use when he slept, and put it over her body, slowly trying not to wake her. And that’s when he began to believe he loved her. However, he pushed it away and kept going on.

And then when she was injured when closing a rift. She was hit by the demons before that, but closing the rift was the last straw. She passed out as it closed and Solas turned around and saw her hit the ground, and then his heart dropped to his stomach. He knew she wasn’t dead, she was too strong for that, but he still worried. He went to her immediately, all sounds stopping except the sound of his heart beat sky rocketing. When he finally got to her, he picked her up and took her to the nearest camp site, not caring that he was a little rough when he said, “We’re done for that day.” He rushed her back to the camp, almost forgetting about his companions, and he felt so lucky that there were no demons in sight, the rifts wll close because of her hard work. And her heat also comforted him. When she was hot, she was alive. She was always hot, always alive, and fighting for her life, and he hopes she keeps fighting now.

And she did. When they got back to the camp, he poured basicallt all his magic into healing her, and after a few hours of pacing back and forth outside her tent, reading a book (even if he wasn’t really), and eventually sitting in her tent with her, she opened her eyes and the tent got hotter. And he realized he loved her, but pushed it away. Again.

And then when he met her on the balcony and when his lips touched his again, and when she came to the Rotunda before she went to a place without him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and when she asked him to spend one night in her room, not doing anything but enjoying each other’s presence, and when he joined her and told her stories and listened to her own. It all lead up to him holding her in his arms, she clutching on to his arms, feeling her hands on his bare skin, keeping her cold and happy, and seeing her face looking peaceful and knowing he put it there.

“I love her,” he told himself and he kept repeating it. It sounded weird until it didn’t and he enjoyed loving her. But when he finally remembered his mission, it came crashing down. He was going to destroy the world, which meant he’d destroy her. And his heart ached at the thought, so he held her tight whenever he could, and realized it’s too late. He’s met the love he truly loves...but it’s too late.

“I’ll never shake away the pain. I close my eyes but she’s still there.”

As he watches her turn to everyone to say they’ve won, his heart cracks with each step he takes away, but he turns away from her, he has to. However, he stops and takes one last look at her. He can’t help it. He has to look at her one. More. Time. And he does, but he still walks away with his feet feeling like he’s walking through mud. And when he found his hideout, he instantly made his agents watch her. He couldn’t be there physically, but he will make sure she is safe. And when he sees her in the fade, he wants to see her. He wants to go to her and hold her until it hurts, kiss her until they both are breathless, but he can’t. He won’t give in that easy.

Yet, when he’s not even in the fade, he thinks of her. Whenever he sets his eyes on anything blue, he remembers her bright blue eyes and how her favorite color was blue, and he can’t stop seeing her. But he doesn’t want to. He’d gladly think about her for the rest of his sad life.

“I rage against the trials of love. I curse the fading of the light.”

But he shouldn’t love her. He shouldn’t. He told himself he wouldn’t fall for her, or anyone, but here he was thinking of her whenever he was alone. Because of this, he buried himself in his work. Almost to the point where his own workers got worried for him, but he just told them not to worry. He was trying to get his mind off of something.

Well, someone.

“Though she’s already flown so far beyond my reach, she’s never out of sight.”

She has done so many things. So many things he can be proud of. She has saved many people, defeated Alexius, defeated the demon in the fade, even made it into the fade, saved Celene, made Skyhold her home, and she defeated Corypheus. How could he not be proud of her? She’s always busy and doing work, it’s what his agents tell him, and he may not be there with her, but she’s never out of his sight. He always has people watching on her, making sure she’s safe, and at night he joins her in the fade. When she noticed he was there that one time, she never forgot it. She always calls out to him in the night, but he can’t reply. He can’t give in, he won’t, but he wishes he can. However, just being able to see her makes a tiny spark of happiness light up in his heart.

“Now I know she’ll never leave me. Even as she runs away. She will still torment me, calm me, hurt me, move me...come what may.”

With everything he does, he thinks of what she would say. When she found out he was the Dread Wolf, she didn’t seem afraid of him. She still smiled at him and still told him that she loves him, and he loves her. He couldn’t deny it at this point. It had been two years of aching and longing, and he’s not an idiot. He knows that it’s love. And whenever he gets angry, he remembers when he found his spirit friend and the mages that hurt them. He was angry and was going to kill them, but Bloom grabbed his arm and when he looked at her, he saw a worried look. 

“Solas. Don’t.”

And as he mourned on his own and even now those words echo in his head. She calms him, yet hurts him when he remembers her, and she gives him hope, but he doesn’t like it. She is strong and stubborn, he learned this when he first met her, so he doesn’t expect her to give up. It strives him to hope and to be just like her, even if their desires are separate things.

“Wasting in my lonely tower...waiting by an open door. I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk right in.”

Every night there is something inside of him that wishes the door will open and she will be there. In her clothes she wore when she walked around Skyhold, her hair down and looking a little tangly, and wearing a smile on her face. He knows it will never happen, it never could. If she ever came here, she’d want to kill him, and he sees why, and part of him thinks he would let her. He is a fool to think he wouldn’t love her, a fool to always push it away, and he’s a fool for thinking he would be fine without her.

“And as the long, long nights begin. I’ll think all of that might have been. Waiting here for Evermore.”

And as he looks her in the Fade, and seeing her looking around for him, he thinks of everything that could’ve been. They could be happy, he could help her with the Inquisition, he could’ve told her everything he felt for her. No sliver or half, everything. But now he has to stand here and watch her as she begs for him to come to her, to come home, and how they can fix this.

He has to watch and deal with his choices for all his life. For evermore. 

Alright! That’s it! I hope you liked it. I have a few more fics coming, 2 of them will be sooner because the other is so difficult. Anyways yeah love y’all💙. 

[in-arlathan]

A Change of Heart

A/N: My muse is obsessing over Solavellan again today. She pestered me with the idea of this little story until I sat down and wrote it. So, here is to Cole nagging Solas about his feelings for Lavellan. I hope you enjoy this! <3

____

The odor of paint pervades the air. Solas inhales it, deeply, seeking comfort in the familiar smell. Drawing on the primordial energy of the Fade, he reshapes the substance, directing it towards the bare stone walls of Skyhold’s rotunda.

While he paints, his mind wanders off. The memory of the mages binding his spirit friend into obedience unfolds before him once more and the pain of her death hurts as much as it did before.

One more life that is lost, he thinks bitterly, remembering countless encounters with his friend in the Fade. She had shared her knowledge with him, offering him comfort even in the darkest of times. Being with her had reminded him of the loved ones he had lost when Arlathan fell. As long as she was with him, he could endure, planning to set things right.

But now…

Now, he is the last remnant of the past. There is no one left to talk to, no one to share his grievance with...

... except for Lavellan.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he hears her say, another memory that won’t leave him.

The thought of her hurts, too, and he tries to push the pain away. He can not allow Lavellan to hold a place in his heart.

There is fluctuation in the Fade, like waves rippling on top of a lake. Solas lets his hands drop, cutting off his connection to magic. A moment later, the young man who calls himself Cole sits on top of the desk Solas uses for his studies.

“You’re hurting,” the young man tells him before he can greet him. “I could feel from my place on the battlements. It’s a different pain than before, brighter, burning, trying to break you apart. I wanted to see if I can help.”

Solas swallows and looks at Cole. He should have known that the young man would look into his feelings and find the truth he tried to hide from this world, from himself. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about.“

“You didn’t notice?” Cole asks, uncertain if he should say more. The expression on his face shifts, displaying a sudden understanding. “Oh, no, you did but you are in denial, defending yourself against the implications. Her lips, brushing against yours, softly, soothing, searching for more.“

“Cole, please stop, this is not ...,” Solas urges, but the spirit doesn’t hear him.

“You want her to keep going but you won’t allow it. How can she startle you like this, in the Fade, where everything is calm and comforting? Then she turns away and the distance between you feels like an abyss, tearing you apart. You reach out to her, seal her lips with yours... ‘This kiss was impulse and ill-considered, and I should not have encouraged it’. But why? Your love is blind, bold, bleeding into your being. You can not separate from it because it is you.“

“Cole!” Solas exclaims. “Leave it be!”

The young man blushes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I go too far?”

Solas sighs deeply, feeling sorry for being so hard on Cole. “No, it is I who has gone too far. I apologize. This burden is mine to bear, and mine alone. You should not concern yourself with my problems.”

“But you’re hurt!” Cole says. “I want to help!”

“I know,” Solas answers with a soft smile. “Yet, this is not a pain you can heal. I can only do that myself.”

“If you say so,” Cole replies, his voice dripping with regret.

Solas reaches out to the young man, placing one hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “I appreciate your effort, Cole,” he says, “but your help is needed elsewhere.”

“I will go now, then.”

“Please.”

“Will you call on me for help… if I can help?”

Solas considers the offer for a moment, then nods slightly. “I will."

In the blink of an eye, the young man is gone, only a shadow of his presence lingering in the Fade. Solas sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

How did this go out of hand so quickly?

He turns around to look at his mural. With his arms crossed before his chest, he regards the painting, trying to figure out how to continue.

Some time later, he hears someone approaching. He knows that it’s her in a heartbeat, recognizing her by the way she walks and the faint trace of magical energy she leaves in the Fade.

“Solas,” she greets him. Her eyes glimmer with excitement. If he could only capture her beauty, her boldness, her bravery. Yet, he knows that no mural, no matter how well-crafted, will ever do her justice. All he can do is to stand by her side and bear witness to her accomplishments. 

In that moment, he realizes that Cole was right. There is no use in denying. He can never change his feelings for her simply by wishing. His love for her will continue to grow, not matter how hard he tries to pretend it is otherwise.

“Inquisitor,” he says, surprised by the vulnerability in his own voice. “I… Do you have a moment?”

[thevikingwoman]

I'm late for TMI Tuesday, but here goes - how would you feel if you were immortal? What about Iwyn - if Solas offered to make her immortal, would she take it? How would she feel about it?

Hi RoLo! Thank you for this ask! I really, really love it. I do have a lot of thoughts here, which in many ways inform a lot of my ideas for how I see Iwyn and Solas’ ‘canon’ story. Since I have not written a full fic, but just bits and pieces, I relish this opportunity to talk about it. 

For myself, I would not want to be immortal. I think it must be so lonely - everyone around you dies. Your family, your friends, everyone. Times will change too much. I think we are not meant to go on - we, as a society change too fast, and it’s hard to change along. Even in my lifetime! I would not want immortality. 

Iwyn’s opinion’s are informed by my own, of course. She does not want immortality. It is one of the reasons she would never want to join Solas’ cause, even he’d offer. She finds the cost too high, but not only that, she finds the goal untangible and undesirable. Who wants to live forever? (which, btw is such a Solavellan song). 

Iwyn does want to improve the lives of the elves, but not at the cost of everyone else, and she finds the idea of immortality being desirable and necessary for this sheer folly. Part of it is that she does not understand it (how can any of us, truly? it is such a foreign concept), but it is also informed by her closeness to nature as a Dalish hunter. All things must die, and they will become part of the earth again, an everlasting circle that governs the very existence and possibility of our lives. You live more, and better, when you don’t have forever, she would say. 

Part of my head canon is that she does convince Solas about this, or at least attempts to. it is a very fascinating topic, and if I ever get around to write my post-reunion-drama-fic, I will explore it. 

Now, if Solas straight up offered her immortality, and there was no ‘cost’ (aka no ‘world burning in raw chaos’) she might consider still, since he is immortal. I can see a scenario where she might accept immortality, or at least a greatly expanded lifespan, if for instance the veil could come down safely. I do think that Solas could convince her, instead of vice versa in some scenarios. 

generally though, I think a narrative device, immortality is only interesting if there is an associated cost. And it is one thing that bugs me about the canon descriptions of Arlathan - what was the cost of immortality? I don’t think the valleslin and slavery is the true cost - it is too easy, and too similar to Tevinter (which doesn’t have the same ‘advantage’). The way Arlathan is described - big spells, spirits, free and powerful magic, immortality - it makes it sounds like a dream, and I think that its not the whole truth. How did they prevent overpopulation? Why did they even need slaves, if they have all the magic they need? So many questions....

and I realized this diverted quite a bit, but it’s one of the most interesting things in the Dragon Age Setting, especially because many fan of Elves and Solavellans simply assume that a restored Arlathan where everyone lives is ‘best possible ending’. And I am not so sure. 

[aroberuka]

Evens for writers ask meme?

2. Where is yourfavourite place to write?

Either the kitchen table, which is the perfect height for my laptop & the only place in the house that gets sunlight in the morning, or my bed tbh.

4. Do you have anywriting habits/rituals?

Not writing habits so to speak but I do have a getting ready to write ritual that mostly consists of dragging myself out of bed and going for a walk.

6. Favourite characteryou’ve written?

Mouse!Surana, hands down. I kinda just made her on the spot for that one oneshot and as a result she ended up radically different from my usual OCs (they’re not usually this… driven xD), which made her such a blast to write.

8. Do you have anywriting buddies or critique partners?

@coppercaravan​ has been both for a little bit over a year and they’re such a pleasure to work with tbh.

10. Pick an author (orwriting friend) to co-write a book with

1) @coppercaravan we should stick our OCs together and see what happens, y/y?

2) That being said it’s super easy to get me to write with you literally all you have to do is drop into my inbox like “hey we should write a thing” and be very patient with my spoonie ass.

12. Which story ofyours do you like best? why?

Honestly it’s the quasiplatonic solavellan fic. I love Tathas, I put a lot of work and also a lot of me into it, I have a lot of thoughts about what’s coming next and I really wish I could finish it already esp since it wouldn’t be that long (like. 8-10 chapters tops, not counting a potential Trespasser sequel) but I haven’t been able to get in a DAI mood for forever x_x

14. What does it takefor you to be ready to write a book? (i.e. do you research? outline? make a playlist or pinterest board? wing it?)

Ideally I’d need the stars to align perfectly on a week with two Mondays, but more realistically what I need is:

-a playlist, or at least a couple artists that’ll put me in the right mood

-character sheets with some basic info + relationship charts + their stake in the plot

-a rough chapter by chapter plan that will inevitably fly out the window by the time I finish chapter 1.

16. Cover love/dreamcovers?

Not really, no.

18. Tell us about thatone book you’ll never let anyone read

So back in January there was that self-insert month thing, and I figured why the hell not, but b/c I’m apparently unable to write self-indulgent fluff and also I was in a Mood it turned into a writing as therapy thing and now I don’t know what to do with it b/c on the one hand I do want to write it & I think it would help me deal with some stuff but on the other idk that I would ever be able to let anyone read it, let alone post it online.

20. Any advice foryoung writers/advice you wish someone would have given you early on?

Length is overrated, short chapters are fine and the only good piece of writing advice is that there is no such thing as universal writing advice.

22. Tell us about thebooks on your “to write” list

… I’m not gonna give you a full list b/c it would be ridiculous but the ones that are on my brain atm are:

-- Présages aka The Novel aka that one story about ghosts that turned into a story about the importance of healthy communication & a good support system.

-- A novella about an aromantic protag that was supposed to be a subplot of the previous but is now its own thing so I can give it the attention it deserves.

-- A fantasy novel that started with me listening to too much critical role and is basically a thinly disguised metaphor for fighting against depression.

(All of them are depression books tbh and I’m not even a little bit sorry.)

And then there’s the fics:

-- A post Akuze longshot feat. Leo, grief and politics.

-- A Leverage/HP crossover feat. pre-canon Eliot, wizards and poor attempts at dragon smuggling.

-- A CCS/Naruto crossover that I’ll probably never write tbh b/c the sheer size of it is terrifying to me, but I like to dust it off every other month anyway b/c I put a lot of thought into it.

24. Do you remember themoment you decided to become a writer/author?

I don’t remember the moment I started to write – that was a long long time ago – but the moment I decided to become a writer I’m pretty sure was when I read The Princess Bride, b/c I very distinctly remember closing the book and going “I wish I’d written that”.

26. What’s the mostresearch you’ve ever put into a book?

It’s kinda hard to tell tbh b/c my research, like everything else, tends to be scattered in short bursts over months/years, but my most recent research-heavy project has been the Leverage/HP crossover, which has led me to a lot of reading on poaching/smuggling as I tried to figure out how one would go about smuggling a dragon.

Turns out there’s no actual book on dragon smuggling but I ended up learning a lot about butterfly smuggling, which as it turns out is

1)a thing

2)very serious business.

28. How do you stayfocused on your own work and how do you deal with comparison?

I don’t. I don’t stay focused on anything, ever. I also deal very poorly with comparison even tho the only one doing the comparing is my own self.

30. Do you like to readbooks similar to your project while you’re drafting or do you stick to non-fiction/un-similar works?

I do! I find it very helpful esp. when I’m writing in a genre/style I’m not used to. I try to avoid it with fanfiction tho so as to avoid accidentally absorbing other people’s headcanons into my own work.

32. On average how muchdo you write in a day? do you have trouble staying focused/gettingthe word count in?

Tbh I usually count in ‘pages’ (quote/unquote b/c I’m using my own format which is considerably shorter than what you probably think of when you hear ‘page’), and I’m trying to get myself to two pages a day for The Novel but I’m considerably slower when I’m not writing in French b/c language is hard.

34. Unpopular writingthoughts/opinions?

-- Character death is overrated.

-- The idea that conflict is necessary to tell a good story is highly subjective and even if it wasn’t a good conflict shouldn’t just boil down to ‘characters being horrible (or downright abusive) to each other’/‘characters being forced to commit or witness atrocities’ over and over again.

-- Romance is boring and so is smut.

-- Young/aspiring writers need positive feedback way, way more than criticism, constructive or not; constructive criticism overall is overrated (which isn’t to say that it’s never useful but like it’s not The One True Way For A Writer To Improve that a lot of ppl try to sell it as).

36. Post a snippet

She’s always been lucky is the thing.

Lucky to find the Reds when she needed them, lucky to lose them when she no longer did, lucky to get caught by the right people at the right time, lucky to be offered military service instead of prison, lucky that Anderson had seen something in her no-one else ever had.

Lucky to survive doesn’t feel so special.

38. How do you nailvoice in your books?

Honestly that is one thing that comes p much naturally to me? Like whenever I write in a character’s voice I can usually ‘hear’ what I’m writing so to speak, which makes things considerably easier tbh.

40. Do you look up toany of your writer buddies?

What kind of question is that I look up to all of y'all??? I’m not even kidding here y’all are amazing and talented and I’m so thrilled I got to meet all of you?

42. How many drafts doyou usually write before you feel satisfied?

I’d say 2-3 though it’s kinda hard to tell b/c I don’t strictly speaking work in full drafts, I tend to go back and forth between paragraphs instead.

44. Why (and when) didyou decide to become a writer?

I must have been like 16 or something. Hell if I remember why except I love stories and it seemed like a good idea at the time?

46. Past or presenttense?

I actually prefer past tense despite my current inability to write it (idk why all my fic end up being present tense but I suspect English).

48. Do you prefer towrite skimpy drafts and flesh them out later, or write too much and cut it back?

I mean most of my fics are already under 500 words long can you imagine if I actually cut stuff from them? :p

50. Do you share yourrough drafts or do you wait until everything is all polished?

I tend to wait until everything is polished but also, again, it’s super easy to get me to share rough drafts or even outlines with you b/c I am weak and crave validation.

52. Who do you writefor?

Me. Always.

Like listen the fact is actually talking openly & honestly about personal stuff even to people who have been there for me in the past is literally the hardest thing for me to do and I got so damn good at avoiding it I don’t even have to think before I do it anymore, and sometimes it feels like writing is the only way I can actually properly communicate anymore. So yeah I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care about ppl loving what I write but it will always be first and foremost something I do for myself.

54. Favourite firstline/opening you’ve written?

already answered here

[in-arlathan]

At Wit’s End

A/N: @zeetao-hime sent me a prompt for a pre-relationship Solavellan story. This one, to be exact:

16. “Lavellan could not possibly feel the same.”

Thanks for the prompt! :) This one was a challenge, but I think I came up with something decent. So, here is a short scene between Solas and his friend, the wisdom spirit (before the summoning that is). I love how she out-smarts him here. I hope, you love it, too.

If anyone else likes to send me a prompt, you can find the full list from @the-solavellan-archive over here.

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“My friend.” Her voice wavers, all but an echo in the Fade. “It’s so good to see you.”

Although she is far away, Solas feels a wave of relief wash over him. He has been calling on her in Fade for five days, almost giving up hope to ever find her in his dreams again. But here she is, and he allows himself to breathe more lightly.

“It’s good to see you, too,” he replies in elvhen, happy to speak his native tongue once more. It hasn’t cost him much effort to master human speech, yet elvhen reminds him of what once was. What he was fighting for.

The spirit of wisdom moves closer, but her shape remains in a semi-transparent state due to the distance between them. 

“Where are you?”, Solas asks, squinting. “I can barely see you.”

“The People call this place Dirtharaven,” Wisdom tells him.

The Exalted Plains, he realizes. What is she doing in the Dales?

No wonder he had such trouble reaching out to her. Haven, where is physical body lies and sleeps, is hundreds of miles away, separated from the Dales by a massive mountain range called the Frostbacks. Even in the Fade, such a distance was not easily bridged. 

“What did you wish to find in this ghastly place?” Solas asks. 

“After what you told me about your encounters with the Dalish, I wanted to see them for myself,” Wisdom tells him light-heartedly. “They are after all what remains of The People.”

“They are not The People,” Solas reminds her harshly. “They are but a shadow of once was.”

“And does that include the woman you currently pledge loyalty to?”, Wisdom asks, tilting her head to regard him. “Last time we spoke, you had made a rather harsh assessment about the poor woman. But you are here, undoubtedly calling on me for advice, which leads me to believe that Lavellan is still alive and still bearing the mark of your orb. Impressive, most impressive, considering the fact that she is not even a mage.”

He can hear the repressed amusement in her voice.

“Oh, please,” he groans. “Don’t be so smug.”

Wisdom chuckles. “That’s what you like about me, and you know it.”

Solas shakes his head, struggling to put his conflicted feelings. His friend isn’t wrong, not entirely. His first description of Lavellan had been clouded by bitterness and revulsion. To see her bearing the anchor has been like an open wound to him that just won’t heal. Yet, somehow, Lavellan had pierced his defenses with both her words and deeds. Now, all he notices is her thoughtfulness, her unwavering certainty. In his mind, he can still see her leading him, Varric and Cassandra through the Hinterlands, always focused, yet compassionate enough to offer her help to strangers. She possesses a kindness that he hadn’t witnessed since… 

… since before I became Fen’Harel, he notices.

“Maybe I was wrong about her,” Solas admits. “Lavellan is a remarkable woman, and I try to provide as much help and guidance as I can, though she hardly needs it. Yet, it troubles me to see her struggle with the burden of the anchor.”

Wisdom sizes him up and down for a moment.

“Why would you be troubled by that, my friend?”

“Because I…” Solas stops mid-sentence, searching for the right word. Something nondescript. Something harmless. “Because I care about her.”

“You care about her?” the spirit echoes, lips pursed in a smile.

“Yes,” Solas replies slowly, stifling a sigh. He knows that face all too well. “But that is not why...”

Wisdom huffs out a laugh and waves a hand, cutting him off. “You are such a wise man, but you don’t know yourself all too well, do you?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Solas retorts, bracing himself. This conversation is going in a direction he hasn’t intended. 

“Did you even realize why you wanted to reach out to me?”, Wisdom asks, regarding him. “The orb is yours, after all. No one knows its power as intimately as you do. So, there must be another reason for you to call on me.” She sizes him up and down. “Looking at you fidgeting with your fingers, watching the hazy reflections of your emotions in the Fade⎯I’d rather say, you love her. And that you have no idea how to handle such an intense feeling.”

Heat rises to his cheeks and he draws himself upright, fighting back the fuzzy feeling. “That is impossible!”

Wisdom chuckles, a defiant glimmer in her eyes. “Is it, now?”

“The consequences would be severe beyond imagining,” Solas says in a rush. “Besides, she doesn’t feel the same, turning this entire conversation into nothing more than a philosophical debate.”

“You seem so certain,” Wisdom assesses, “but did you ask her?”

“Ask her what?”

“If she likes you, too.”

Solas feels his entire body stiffen. Asking Lavellan flat out about her feelings is not his preferred course of action. Indeed, if he has a say in the matter, he would very much like not to have to ask her about anything at all. None of this ⎯ the conclave, the explosion, the breach ⎯ was supposed to happen. Especially not that. Not him falling for the woman who, without knowing, stole the anchor of his orb. 

Wisdom chuckles again, breaking the silence between them. “I never thought I’d see you blush so deeply, my friend. It’s a wonder to behold.” 

Solas swallows. Wisdom knows she has him cornered. And she knows that he knows. With whatever argument he tries to wiggle his way out of this conversation, she will find some line of reasoning that will bring him back to the one simple truth he doesn’t want to admit to himself. 

The simple truth that he did love Lavellan.

“The universe has a wicked sense of humor,” he says in a heavy voice.

A light shines in Wisdom’s eyes. “I can hardly argue with that.”