#i have two inquistors and i think they would get along pretty well

[beast-of-mosss]

How would you think all your inquistors would interact with one another?

[thelittlestboi]

Its Sad boi hours

Going through some of my old save files (I tend to make a new save just after every major event so I can use the old file to replay the fun bits) and I came across one that was seemingly a dud, (me bull dorian and Cassandra in the hinterlands collecting shards) but I triggered (either by accident or maybe this is why the file existed who knows) the flirty dialog between bull and dorian the whole "conquer you" bit and I have .... thoughts. This gonna be long so scroll on or buckle up

Imagine if you will, pinning after these two, two of the most handsome men who also happen to be into men, who Also happen to represent two of the biggest parts of yourself. (A mage and a qunari) You adore them, you recognize yourself in them and you unsurprisingly develop huge fat crushes on the both of them.

But its just not quite clicking. You can flirt with Bull all day, he'll let you but its kinda like talking to a wall. He either ignores the more cringe attempts you have flirting (trying to bring up lovemaking after 2 whole conversations), or just kinda skirts the whole conversation.

While flirting with Dorian is like trying to impress the man who is better at everything. Can't complement his face, he knows he's pretty, can't complement his magic, he made time magic, we get it he's great. Can't even give him his amulet back without him yelling at you. (Which is a whole thing. I get it and its heart breaking how love starved Dorian is that he can't even accept a simple gift but thats a different rant) But Mahanon is trying so fucking hard to get these people to like him, he comes back every day and considers himself so lucky to have these men in his live as he tries to figure out who, ultimately, hes gonna really give it his all too.

So he brings them both on missions, he values thier skills and thier input and they get along well enough.... really well... and now Bulls flirting with Dorian.

And thats gotta hurt so bad. Like you've been vying for these men to notice you and instead you've ended up setting them up to each other. And yea bull says "I've got the hints" later and I feel like that makes these moments even worse?

Bull knows the inquistor has the hots for him and he blatantly and I have to belive purposely flirts with others in front of him just to see his reaction. Cassandra and Blackwall no big deal nothing is gonna come of that. But Dorian??? Oh the stab of rejection. The anger and betrayal he feels, mixed with the guilt of being upset.

He should be happy for his friends, excited for this (possibly) happy union of these two amazing men that he respects and looks up too. But he's not, he's angry and hes hurt.

He hears all the things he wished Bull would say to HIM but instead he has to listen to Dorian reject it. Turning down the very thing mahanons craves so deeply(like really that could not be more dead set on mahanon kinks if bioware tried). He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to fire Bull right then and there cause its hard to not take it personal. He wants to shake Dorian till his arms break, wants to scream in his all too pretty face the hes an idiot, throwing away what could have been a perfect moment.

But he can't. Hes the inquistor and frankly there are more important things that need to be taken care of. (Ah to sprinkle in the weight of the world and the crushing need to be everyones savior all while dealing with the growing feeling of imposter syndrome) So he has to swallow all of that up, gotta push it down into a little ball of knots to deal with later. Im both happy and sad there's no dialog options for the inquistor after that scene. I dont think bioware would give me the option to cry silently, but I would and Mahanon does.

He tightens his hold on his staff as his heart tightens in his chest. His lips would tremble as he'd bite his tongue, not a sound would be heard, and from his back you'd think he hadn't even heard them. But the tears that stream down his face, that turn to ice and dissipate into nothingness before ever reaching his chin. They hold all the words he wish he could say.

[asktheraggededges]

The Guard isn’t exactly something that you retire from, unless you’re lucky enough to be in one of the regiments they use to jumpstart new colonies. However, as you’re inquisition, you’ll probably be assigned new duties as time goes on. Where do you expect (or hope) to end up?

KRUMPIN’ TIL I CAN’T KRUMP NO MORE.DIE KRUMPIN’

MAYBE TEACH OTHAS TA KRUMP.

Vergessenheit.

Dreams are for dreamers. I am a soldier.

Inquisitor, of course. One of the stylish ones with all the grisby. But that still gets to interrogate people.

I want to end up wherever she is. I don’t care if that means dying before my time. SO long as I’m with her.

I probably shouldn’t be the one giving orders, dude. Can you imagine it?

Keep fighting until I can’t fight, I guess? UUuh. Tend bar?

CAN’T STOP. WONT STOP.ENEMIES MANY.

I don’t hope anything. I expect to be found dead in my quarters , either burned to death or buried beneath a pile of junkfood containers.

Hope? Open a chow house.

Expect? Die with my boots on. Roasting up some xenos.

Never thought about it much, tell you the truth. I suppose , if I’m ever not in tickety boo condition to fight, I could teach a few likely lads a thing or two.

Vergessenheit. But only if I know Angie is safe first.

Oh, man. I should be on the airwaves. Probably gonna just lose my legs and end up on a pension, though.

I give no thought to this matter. I will simply serve.

There is...no room for the likes of me at his side.

I don’t know where I will go. But I am sure it will be a fitting punishment.

Fuck it. Rogue trader.

If you’re gonna ask a question that ridiculous, I’m going big.

Rogue trader specialising in hellguns and whiskey.

Here is fine. I don’t hate this. I just want a little part of this universe I can call my own. Be safe with those I care about.

i kNoW wHaT sHOULd HaPpEn.HAvE nOt SeEn iT.

BuT i KnoW wHaT I cAn dO.AnD I knOW whAt tHeY lOOK for.

hE aLReAdY tHiNkS soMETIMes thAT, when HE paSSes. I SHouLd get HIS jOb.

aNd he IS rIgHT.

Hrrm. I was thinking about finding a nice spot on Vostroya and becoming a musher. But those sort of dreams don’t really apply to a guy like me. I’m a ghost. A nobody. Just another killer.

[subject exhales smoke from a lho stick, which, fairly astoundingly spells ‘Kaz’]

Work my way up the ranks. Transfer back to the navy and get my own ship to command. Doesn’t have to be huge. Just big.

I dunno. Might make sergeant major, I guess.

I guess it’d be nice to hold a position on one of Cadia’s new colonies but..yeah..this is alright, you know? 

Same as I tell Daal. More of the same, please.

Fool question.

I know it’s dumb but...It’d be nice to settle down. Find a nice, strong woman - kind enough to put up with me and my bullshit. Raise and impart wisdom onto the next generation of fighters.

Some people must just do that, right? It’s a big universe and it can’t all be like this.

Maybe I could be one of them. Dunno if It’s what i deserve but...it’s what I’d like.

Fight until I can’t. Tend to animals until I die.

Rin a distillery, Ah suppose. Eh'd still want tae barnie, min' ye. Is thaur a way Ah can dae baith?

Hm. Assuming I can ever be among normal society again. Which is BIG assumption, I guess some day I’d like to go back to Britan. With Wes, if she’s interested. Life is pretty easy there.

I’m..getting ahead of myself sorry. For now, let us assume I’m going to just keep fighting.

𝐈 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐘.

[subject just hugs her own sides and smiles]

This. Now. All that I work the bread dough.

It’s very thin or narrow with me.

Hmmm?

I’m still figuring out where I belong in this world, to be honest. I think I will probably eventually enlist with one of the cult of mars. One of the easier going ones...

OH, who knows? I just hope that wherever I go there is something to learn, a little wine and some good company. I will go wherever that is.

Realest possible talk. I’m actually being serious here.

They should probably make me an actual acolyte. Not inquisitor or whatever, but I should probably work for them more directly.

[subject mouths something to the camera while making the vox gesture next to her head]

Don’t care. This is easily one of the better parts of my life.

I dunno, man. As long as there’s action, tech and some honey’s I’m easy.

Well, I’m not getting back into politics, that’s for certain. Heh.

I’m not sure. I suppose I could teach or maybe I should try settling down and starting a business. Maybe an orphinarium or a medical facility for those with less money. I try and focus on the present, generally.

MOVE ALONG.

Goodness, I’m not sure! I suppose I’d go into training if I couldn’t right myself. It might be nice to retire outright, you know? Maybe even start a family if ..if um the person ..um..if they wanted..to um..

[subject turns crimson and covers their face]

Giant woman will never stop fighting! I want to be with my comrades and my darling! Not important why.

Gosh. My biggest hope - silly as it sounds would be to get all this data into a form that future generations can enjoy. Perhaps learn from. Slates or tomes or  feeds from the galactic data trawl. Something like that.

I’d like to be on one of Cadia’s new colonies. Teaching people all I’ve learned in my time here. About other cultures, about myself. About humans. Somewhere peaceful, if there is such a place. An agri-world, or a shrine world.

And maybe occasionally people would come to me and ask if it’s all true. What happened to us, what’s happening to us, what will happen to us. And I’ll be able to say ‘every word’.

I’ll be able to see what we’ve all become. I am sure some of us will be generals or inquistors or something grand like that. 

And I’ll be able to smile fondly of when I knew them back when.

Maybe, when all this is over. Maybe we’ll even catch up sometimes.

I’d like that.

[ramblinganthropologist]

31 Days of Fanfic, Day 13

Topic: Hurt/Comfort (I don’t think I did it right) Summary: Trevy really didn’t need this tonight. Thanks, Kaaras. Words: 1390 ---

The sun was setting over the battlements, tinting the gray stone warm shades of red and orange. A chill was beginning to creep into the air, swirling around Trevy's feet as she left the library, walking along the top to reach the mage's tower. It had been a long day, and she looked forward to a night's rest.

Her room there was on the second floor, so a quick trip up the winding staircase took a few minutes. From where she stood, she could hear the quiet muttering of spells or prayers, sometimes a mix of both. Some of her fellow mages were of the religious sort, after all. She was not, for that matter.

“Whatever gets you through the day, I guess.” She found the key to her room in her robe pocket, but frowned when she got to the door. Most people would have missed it, but time had imparted to her a fine eye for details. There were tool marks around the lock, tiny but visible. When she pressed, the door was locked though.

Whoever had gone in had locked up after themselves; how thoughtful.

Fire warmed her free hand as she unlocked the door and nudged it open. The thin beam of light revealed nothing but the fact she really needed to clean her floor at one point, so she pushed in further still keeping the flames at hand.

There was something in her bed.

Well, someone. The lump under her blanket was about the size of a child, but the bottle of half drunk liquor would've knocked even the largest man on their ass. That, combined with the chocolate wrappers on the floor, gave her a pretty good idea of who had broken in.

“Jackel...” The name came out as a sigh as Trevy let the flames die down. Shaking her head, the mage worked around her bed to tidy up both her and the elf's mess, depositing what she could in the small can by her desk. Her guest never stirred, either because they were deep asleep or dead.

She supposed she should've cared which one it was, but at the moment she was too tired.

“Guess she had a bad day.” Trevy was feeling one come on herself as she sat down at her desk, thoughts of a nap fading like the rays of the sun. Instead, she reached for the book she had been working on the night before. Until Jackel woke up, her bed was unavailable.

In a way, she was helping, but her aid was much undesired.

Trevy wasn't sure when Jackel woke up, mostly because she had been drawn into her reading. It only became apparent when a heavy weight settled onto her shoulders, gripping onto her head with a little more force than necessary.

“What time is it?”

The mage shook her head as she took a glance out her window – it had gone dark at one point. “After sundown, but I can't give you particulars.”

“It was noon last I checked.” Jackel's words were a little slurred, but she was understandable. “You going to yell at me for coming in?”

While that might have been great for the annoyance biting away at the edges of Trevy's patience, it wouldn't have accomplished much else. She let it go as best as she could with a deep breath, like Cassandra had taught her in the first few days of being herself again. In and out.

She still wanted to yell, but it was lessened.

“No. Wouldn't help your headache.” Still, curiosity nibbled away at the mage as she looked over at the mess that was her bed. “Though, I do want to ask why you snuck into my room with booze and chocolate.”

Up above, Jackel tensed. It wasn't often she did that. Even more rare, she climbed off her coveted shoulder position and clambered back to the bed in order to recover the remains of her noon meal. She took another swig from the bottle, scowling.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

In Trevy's mind, that narrowed the subject down to two: her brothers, and Bull. Well, technically that was three but it was easy to bundle the Adaar brothers together as a unit. At any rate, it would be difficult to ferret out the exact details.

Assassins were notably tight lipped when it came to things, and Jackel was no different. It was easier to extract blood from a stone than to get something out of her when she didn't feel like talking. She could drink herself to a stupor and never give up the goods. It made her a great assassin, but a crap friend sometimes.

And that was what she had to work with. Maker's ass.

So, Trevy elected to try a more indirect route as she continued scribbling away at her desk. “I saw Bull in the tavern. He and the Chargers are looking antsy.”

“Said something that they haven't gotten a good job in a while. Need a dragon or something.”

Well, that narrowed it down to two other horny members of the Inquisition. She made note of that as she flipped the page. No matter what she wrote, her notes would be safe: Jackel couldn't read. She hated to take advantage of that, but it was desperate times.

She'd give her some chocolate later to make up for it.

The mage kept her tone light as she kept reading. “Maybe you could ask Kaaras. He'd know if there were any dragons in the area that needed slaying.”

Her friend didn't answer. Instead, she took a deep swig of her bottle and set it to the side with a slight hiss. While Trevy wasn't wonders at archery, she knew when she'd hit the mark. The Inquistor's name was scribbled down onto parchment, right next to his sibling's name.

Now they were getting somewhere.

“He knows everything else, might as well.” There was venom of Jackel's words as she pulled apart the wrapping of a piece of chocolate she probably stole off Josephine when the ambassador wasn't looking. “Damn know it all...”

Trevy kept her face blank as she looked down at the mess of scribbles. Realization eventually dawned on her as she put the pieces together. “So... the same fight as last time, then?”

She should've known, based on how drunk the elf was. Only a few subjects could raise her hackles that badly: dealing with her emotions and her illiteracy. Since there were no books around she had been attempting to avoid, that narrowed the playing field.

Kaaras had probably brought up her emotional constipation again. Bad move, but a valiant one all the same.

Jackel answered with emptying the bottle and dropping it to the bed. “Yeah.”

“He's only trying to help.” Trevy put her book away to turn back to her friend. “But, I know. Assassins don't have emotions.”

She had only heard that line a thousands times before, usually while Jackel was half drunk. He kept pushing her to admit her feelings for Bull, and every time it just made her run off and get drunk. This time, it just so happened she ran to the mage's room.

Lucky her.

On the bed, the elf hiccuped. “I don't.”

“I know.” Trevy reached over to take the empty bottle away, placing it on the desk so no one broke it. Later, she might put flowers in; it was a pretty color. At this point, it was the only good thing to come out of an evening of babysitting her drunk friend.

Speaking of, a heavy weight settled into her shoulder. Jackel hadn't hopped on, but she was pressing her chin into the mage's shoulder. That close, it was easy to smell the alcohol on her breath – something Dalish, definitely not human make.

“It's no good to have emotions in my job. Gotta kill people.” Her voice was starting to go soft with sleep. If she kept it up, the elf would be asleep standing up. Luckily, she weighed less than one hundred pounds. Scooping her up was easy, and she gave no resistance.

Back to the bed they went, Trevy careful to tuck her in. Jackel mumbled something as she rolled over to her side and pulled the blanket over her head, but after that there was no more noise. Her breathing became slower, easier.

Sleep had won.

“Well, guess I'm sleeping at my desk tonight.” The mage could already feel a backache coming on as she eased back into her chair, the empty bottle reflecting the light of her candle. In the morning, Jackel would probably be grumpy and hungover. Maybe they could be grumpy together.

At least she hadn't thrown up. That helped. Wasn't much for the sleepless night she was facing, but sometimes friends had to do dumb shit like that.