#inquisition landscape is beautiful

[lexsssu]

Inhuman (Adrian Tepes | Alucard)

TAGS: Alucard/Dragoness!reader, alternate universe, pining, sex pollen, morning after, breeding, impregnation, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

Darkness is something many feared for it brought about horrors both real and imaginary to life. The cover of night hid that which screeched at the light of day and yet there is a certain stillness and calm found in the dark.

Adrian never felt that the dark was something to be afraid of, but rather a hidden peace and tranquility when one decides to walk about during the twilight hours.

All is still until a flash of bright light illuminated the landscape, revealing everything which once hid within the blanket of night for barely a second before gradually fading away.

Normally, the dhampir would have chalked it up as yet another one of nature’s great mysteries before trying to see for himself what caused it. Blame his loving parents who naturally nurtured his inquisitive nature.

However, before he could even step another foot forward he saw something falling from the sky and as it got closer to the ground, his eyes perceived an unmistakably human form.

He didn’t need to think for another second as his body rocketed upwards in a great leap, lean yet toned arms grasping the surprisingly soft and tiny figure. As the air whipped around him during his descent, he took his first good look as to who or what he decided to save in the first place.

The blonde’s eyes widened, breath hitching in his throat as he beheld what could only be an angel, a being of pure light within his embrace.

Your silken ivory hair crowns your head and drapes over your heart-shaped face gracefully, petal-like lips which gleamed with a soft pink sheen, eyelashes like lush crescents that seem to teasingly hide what he could only imagine to be the most beautiful jeweled orbs in the world, and a spattering of silvery-white scales that travel from said cheeks down to your neck and the rest of your body hidden beneath your bodice.

You are clearly inhuman.

And yet, never has Adrian felt more human than he did right now especially as your eyes flutter open and meet with his own mesmerized pair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“...make sure to grind them thoroughly, my dear. They have to be a fine paste before we can proceed with the next step”

“Okay, Miss Lisa. I’ll do my best!”

“Feel free to just call me mother. I’ve seen you as a daughter from the moment my son brought you into our home and since my husband hasn’t given me any daughters...you’re the next best thing and I honestly couldn’t be any more grateful for your arrival in our lives.”

Hidden behind a tall shelf lined with various tomes and scrolls, the young man couldn’t help but take peeks at the two most important women in his life as they bonded with one another. His mother so easily took you under her wing when he brought you here and you weren’t averse to the motherly affections she directed at you.

Now if he could only be as forthright with his feelings as his mother and express himself to you, because you were clearly as dense as a rock and didn’t pick up any of the subtle hints he gave you about his intentions...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If you’re really okay with someone like me...then please use me as much as you like,” with a red blush highlighting your soft cheeks, you try not to look at the flushed and heavily panting Adrian pinning you down upon his bed.

The dhampir had accidentally inhaled the pollen of some new plant you both came across while partaking in your regular walks together. It took effect immediately, the normally calm and composed blonde becoming so flustered and heated that you’d think he was running a fever with how much sweat dripped down his face.

The raging erection which tented at the front of his trousers told you everything you needed to know, however.

Even if it was only to help him, you don’t regret giving yourself to Adrian because you love him. Even after the effects wear off, you hope that you’ll still stay friends because you’ve grown to love this castle and all its wonders. But especially its inhabitants—

“While I would have preferred to put a ring on you first, I’m afraid that I’m at my limit...but I promise to properly wed you after this, my love.”

The night is a blur by the time you wake up the morning after. Hazy memories of soft and firm touches, wet and deep kisses, harsh grunts and pitiful mewls, and nails scratching against the skin of his toned back as your tight cunt is forced open by his lengthy cock. You don’t remember how many rounds you went last night, having lost count of the amount of times you felt him spraying his seed deep inside of you and how you oh so shamelessly tightened even further each time he painted your walls white.

“We must inform mother and father once they return from their little trip. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled at the news of our union...though perhaps I might be scolded for taking you to bed before the actual wedding…” Adrian chuckled, messy strands of blonde hair tumbling down his chest as he gazed down at you with his head propped up by his hand, all the while you seemed to have been using his chest as a pillow the whole time you were sleeping.

“A-Adrian…!” You squeak and sputter at his joke, blushing all the way to the tips of your ears which only seems to ignite the flames within the dhampir once more as he rolls himself on top of you.

“If you truly insist on seducing me yet again...I suppose it is simply a husband’s duty to satisfy his wife”

[masamoone]

𝓢tarlit solace

pairing: sephiroth x reader;

didn’t turn out as i wanted it to be, but enjoy your reading nonetheless. ♡

the sight of majestic, glimmering nebulae above your head soothed both heart and soul. the weight of dark thoughts and heavy emotions dissolving into nothingness as your gaze lingered on the heavenly display of countless stars. the sea stretched out like a vast, crimson reflection of a million celestial bodies, its surface gleaming with an eerie glow under the dense atmosphere of the cosmic skies. each wave seemed to pulse with a deep, ruby hue. the ocean lulled your senses, seducing the desire of letting go completely, reminding yourselves of its leaving presence. the exoplanet embraced your bodies within the warm sand, welcoming the love you and sephiroth shared in the roots of its core. melting in the horizon, vibrant hues of violet, blue, and gold sparkled across the firmament, their celestial dust mingling with clusters of distant galaxies. the nebulae flowed and danced together, like ethereal flames burning in the infinite mystery of space, casting a surreal luminescence that danced upon the red waters.

your gaze placed upon sephiroth’s eyes, his mako—infused orbs gleamed with an otherworldly brilliance, reflecting the vastness of the cosmos. their depths held an unspoken affection as he lowered his gaze, capturing you in a contemplative stare. "the beauty of this place is staggering," he confessed, his voice a deep rumble that reverberated in the space between you. his hand rose to your hair, fingers gently weaving a few strands. "i never imagined the universe could feel so daunting, yet so intimately close." you found yourself nodding to his words, your arms wrapping around his waist, the cool touch of his leather coat brushing beneath your fingertips. every ripple on the sea’s surface captured the light, creating a landscape where the welkin and the shore became one in a otherworldly union. "my soul feels deeply connected to yours, as if we are part of the cosmos and belong to each other, but to no one else."

your surroundings began to dissolve, blending into familiar metallic grey walls as the faint hum of machinery replaced the melodic sound of the waves. a soft, low chuckle filled your ears as the headset was lifted from your head. the sight of angeal and zack looming above your figures on the ground was unexpected, yet somehow not surprising. “looks like we’ve interrupted a date,” angeal mused, his slightly inquisitive gaze focused more on sephiroth than on you. your boyfriend returned the look, rising from the floor with a small smile playing on his lips. he had been caught as well, yet as always, you couldn't tell whether he felt embarrassed or not. “well, it seems our quiet moment has drawn quite the audience.” the sarcasm that lingered in his tone caused a flush to rise in your cheeks. “what a surprise.”

© masamoone

[squiddy-god]

"Antique hearts"

Zhongli x reader

Sweet, cute, and domestic fluff with the former geo archon turned charming man. More re-uploads. As usual no beta no prof

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN♥︎ don't be shy, send request for any of the fandoms on my fandom list, you can even recommend shows/games if they aren't there. Or even if you just want to chat! Anon is also always open!

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Hesitance was etched along his defined features when you suggested a trip to mondstat, nothing too long, simply a day away from the familiar mountains of liyue. "Are you sure my dear? " He inquired, you nodded smile painted on your face, "it'll just be for a day I promise, there's a place I'd love to take you" 

How could he say no when you gave him such a hopeful expression. He let out a deep sigh, amber eyes closing gently. It was no secret that zhongli was not a fan of mondstat taverns, the oddities that they often served- it simply wasn't his cup of tea. Thankfully you had no intention of taking him somewhere like the cat tail or angel's share, no no, you were planning to take him somewhere you were certain he'd love. "Alright, I suppose a day's visit to the city of wind wouldn't hurt" He agreed, still slightly sceptical. 

Holding his gloved hand in yours you lead the tall man through the stone streets of mondstat. Although the geo Lord stuck out quite a bit in his liyue attire, people still smiled nonetheless. "Dear, where exactly are you taking me? " His inquisitive gaze was locked upon you, the rich hues of his eyes holding a silent plea that it wasn't a tavern. "Well we're almost there! You'll see soon" 

You were indeed right, you soon came to a quaint cafe, a hole in the wall that was almost never packed. 

He took in the sight, a charming sign hung up above and the small chalkboard with a drawn cake and teacup, it gave a calm atmosphere he rather appreciated in a city such as the bustling mondstat. "Wait until you see the inside" You chirped, interlocking your fingers and leading the way. 

The interior was plastered with a warm yellow wallpaper, murals of cities and gardens painted on the walls. It was as if  each wall was a new place, straight from a story book's pages. But truly what caught. His eyes were the antiques. The front room was adorned in cute white shelves stacked with anything from porcelain birds to beautiful oak jewelry boxes. Elegant carvings in the dark wood drew his eyes to inspect them, a shimmer of curiosity lighting his dazzling face. 

You smiled seeing him so happy, the gentle smile he now dawned warmed your heart and you chuckled. The lady at the front desk created you with a warm smile before leading you to a table in the further back of the cafey. Zhongli admired the walls, beautiful flower bushes and charming window shutters tying together in a landscape unfamiliar yet beautiful. 

"This place is quite charming, hmm, even the cloth on the table holds much character, perhaps this place holds interesting stories" He mused holding his chin. He was delighted to learn they had a vast selection of tea, some blends even from liyue harbor, how curious that such a small cafe had such selection. 

His gloved thumb traced the smooth porcelain cup, swirls of gold lining the rim with pale yellow flowers painted on the smooth surface. 

"This is a common shape for tea cups, the design is wider and lends itself to the maximization of surface area" He began, eyes shifting subtlety from the hot liquid to your eyes. You happily listened as he went on, gently placing the cup down on the matching saucer as you intertwined your fingers atop the table. His voice was soothing and calm, the slight rasp lending itself well to his deep vocals. "The reason for this is to focus on the texture and feel of the tea, specifically teas with rich and velvet textures. Hence it is often used to serve black teas such as Sichuan Imperial Gongfu" He finished, a warm smile on his face as he sipped his tea. 

He always loved when you listened to him, he adored how appreciated you made him feel. That twinkle of attentiveness in your eyes as he spoke, yes, he'd make sure to return that love ten fold.

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[jean-dieu]

Dragon age the Veilguard: The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Don't expect too much there, I'm just writing my own subjective, non-organized, badly written critic of the game. Spoilers ahead, so be warned!

The Good is the good stuff, The Bad is the bad stuff that aren't too jarring or that don't threaten the whole setting so much so it's okay to just ignore them, and The Ugly is the bad stuff that DO make me want to fucking die and explode.

The Good:

-It's beautiful. Not a fan of a lot of design choices but it's obviously well made. The landscapes are very pretty.

-The character creator. It's always funny to me when I see some dudebros complaining about it as if they're not purposefully making ugly characters. It has quite a lot of option, nice skin details, scars, tattoos and all.

-I really like the combat. I still think DAO is the superior system but I'm much more happy with a true action rpg than whatever Inquisition was trying to do.

-I'm going to be more objective there and say the maps are better than Inquisition. THAT BEING SAID I love the Hinterlands so I still prefer Inquisiton's bloated open world lmao.

-There's a lot of nice details all around! Neve's metallic prothesis walking sound, the decorations all around, tears in character's eyes, ect.

-Solas. Can't believe I'm saying it as I didn't like him much in DAI and I don't like Solavellan but DATV made me like him very much. He's much more morally grey and less uwu wet cat and I'm here for that. Excellent voice acting of course.

-Mythal. Again, I love whatever Solas and Mythal have going on. It's toxic, it's passionate, it's one sided, and Mythal is a very interesting character IMO.

-Felassan. Again, such a cool and compelling character.

-A lot of NPCs were very cool. Antoine who's singlehandly saving the French's reputation, Evka, The Viper, Strife, Viago, Teia, etc. They're cool and rather compelling.

-I did enjoy a lot of the companion's personal quests. Davrin and Bellara especially as they felt more in line with Dragon Age in general.

-For a game where the Bad Guys are Comically Evil... Johanna Hezenkoss fits the bill and yet she's a delight.

-There's really cool codex entries. Irelin's letter about mourning Arlathan for example. Antoine's letter to Evka should he ever be Called.

-Ghilahn'ain's design.

-I liked the living Blight! OK the darkspawns were ugly af but I still really enjoyed the idea.

-I actually liked the puzzles lmao? I'm sorry but I usually find puzzles fucking annoying in that type of game so I'd rather have something easy and fun than scratching my head in a rpg.

-I was glad to see Valta again!

The Bad: (vaguely in order of importance)

-Unpopular opinion but Assan and Manfred felt forced af. Yeah I got it, they're cute... Now can we go back on uh, the apocalypse.

-The music is boring. Fuck man Inquisition and Origins musics make me cry, but Veilguard's main them... Exists.

-I would prefer the companion to be stationary and being able to talk to them whenever want. They tried something but it didn't deliver.

-The fuck is Inky wearing.

-The fuck is Isabela wearing, but racist edition. Oh well. At least it's an easy fix with a mod.

-The companions have potential but they often lack something. I wish we got more than Lucanis liking coffee. Also, some characters concept from the art book felt so much more interesting. The only character I REALLY was interested in was Davrin because he feels very dragon age-y. A Dalish Grey Warden! That's interesting!

-The Lore seems alright and coherent with the serie so far, but it was just lore drops after lore drops, with no time for reactions, and your companions being sometimes waaaaay too chill about it.

-The overall sanitazing of the world while the grim stuff still somehow being there regarding Tevinter. It's very close to be in the Ugly category but because it's supposed to be there, I'm encline to believe it's still canon and not a retcon, and just a poor presentation. Where are the slaves? We see some of course, and some stuff were legitimately jarring... But because we're confined in docktowns, we don't get to see the ruling magisters and slavers. Docktowns almost seem... Nice. But it doesnt stop there. The Lords of Fortune not stealing artifacts because they respect cultures. The Crows being patriotic vigilantes. Lucanis being a mage killer but only for evil tevene magisters.

-I understand the impossibility to be Evil as you're recruited by Varric and he wouldn't have recruited the local serial killer that drowns kitties for fun. But... You should be able to be aggressive, stern, serious and all. You should be able to play a no-nonsense character who is authoritative and assertive while still following the plot.

-Again, I understand the companions being healthier than whatever DA2 crew had going on (love them tho) but it should have been more like Inquisition. People working together and forcing themselves to make it work for the sake of the world YET fighting and disagreeing on plenty of subjects. And Rook should be able to tell the companion to stfu sometimes. To tell Taash that they're an ass. To tell Emmerich you don't give a shit about his magic and that Manfred is fucking weird and shouldn't exist. To tell Bellara to stop whining.

-On the same note, the companions are all WAY too nice. One their own they're alright, but none of them have some true flaws/secrets/dark past/opposing convictions or whatever. Davrin and Lucanis are almost the only one who are arguing and fighting a bit but it's very tame. We never hear them arguing over politics, religion, or even ways of doing things (except for food lol. why is this game so much about food). If you take Inquisition for example, the companions are ALL working together in the face of a Ancient Evil threatening Thedas. Yet, they still argue about plenty of things. Solas and Iron Bull about the Qun. Vivienne and Solas about the existence of Circles. Varric and Cassandra's fighting is ruthless even when it's about nothing important. Try to show your pride as a Dalish to Sera and she won't take it well. Tell Cassandra that you don't give a shit about the Chantry and she'll disapprove. And still, these persons managed to work together. The excuse of "They put their differences aside because of the current threat" doesn't hold. The companions don't necessarily need DA2's level of animosity between them, but they don't need to all be best friends forever second one. Bellara could be suspicious of Neve for the sole reason of her being a Tevinter Mage. Lucanis too ("Mage Killer"!!!), but because he doesn't trust magic at all. Davrin and Bellara could argue about what it means to be Dalish to them, or argue about their faith!! EVERYONE Should be more worried about Lucanis being an abomination, damn it!

-I understand the Crows we see are not the one experiencing the worst of the organisation since they're highranking members but c'mon... It should be acknowledged at least.

-Some of the dialogues are fucking awful especially at the begining. They repeat themselves so much. The scene with "Nooo Rook you need to help us resolve our problems otherwise we will be too weak to fight the gods!! Rook, do my personal quests or I'll be too sad to fight!!". Harding's "Awkwaaaard". Bellara's quirky uwu manic pixie girl vibes at the begining.

The Ugly:

-Anything related to the elves. For a game centered on elven gods... We get so much yet nothing. Why are they all more or less cool about their "Gods" being real and evil? No one freaking out about having Elgarnan's vallaslin on their face? No crisis of faith? No elves joining them, really? Not a single one? No dalish celebrating their return before realizing the awful truth? No city elves or elven slaves fleeing to them because they have nothing to lose anyway? That's unrealistic. I can understand the Veil Jumpers already knowing the truth, it's more or less explained in the books anyway, but there's no way it's commonly accepted among all dalish clans. Speaking of dalish clans, were are they? And Briala ? Didn't she also control the Eluvian? What about city elves in general? And elven slaves? There's just nothing. The elven pantheon wasn't some myths for the Dalish. It was a religion. Their religion. Damn, imagine Christians learning Jesus is coming back BUT he's in fact very evil and is launching nuclear weapons everywhere? And their only reaction is "Oh no, we have to stop Jesus :(" ? I'm taking the christian example but you could say that about pretty much every religion.

-Where are Fen'harel agents? A few lines and one or two NPC mentioning Solas parting ways with them or even making the Veil Jumpers the ex-agents left behind would have been SO much more interesting than whatever they justified in the AMA. I can't believe they didn't even put A CODEX ENTRY explaining their absence in game. That's lazy af.

-No repercussion on the elves AT ALL? Seriously, realistically speaking, what is the future for the elves at the end of DATV? "Their" Gods almost destroyed the world, "Their" Gods killed countless, "Their" Gods created the Blight, "Their" Gods that many dalish still worshipped only a few years ago. What do you mean humans aren't going to declare open season on them? Like OF COURSE I don't want that to happen, and I'm hoping that idk, they'll found their own country in a reclaimed Arlathan, or that the instability in the south allows some of them to grab positions of power but don't tell me the humans aren't going to feel so fucking justify in their hatred, especially towards the Dalish who never converted to the Chantry. The fact that the endgame doesn't mention ANYTHING about it is jarring. Bioware ffs drop a book or whatever soon I need answers. I need hope. The game is treating the racism against Elves as... Some prejudices humans soooometimes have against them and not... centuries of systematic oppression, genocide, cultural erasure. The City Elf origins, Chevaliers killing Alienage elves for funsies, Celene burning down a whole Alienage, the genocide of dalish clans anyone? All of this is stuff that happened like... Between 8 and 20 years ago. It's not ancient history.

-Blighting Ferelden Beyond Repair, the Venatori Coup in Orlais and Kirkwall's evacuation was mean. Of cours the South is dealing with the blight and a shitload of problem but the "we lost Denerim. And Redcliff. And anything really. Idk if there's survivors. But if there is they'll starve anyway. xoxo the Inky." was just mean spirited I'm sorry. Same as above, Bioware. I fucking need hope for the South. Anything really. They could have stopped as "Yo there's a big Blight in the south and it sucks, Denerim is struggling and we lost villages and all" and that would have been FINE. No need to go scorched earth damnit.

-The lack of worldstate choices. C'mon. I understand not having a lot of them but a list of 6-10 easy questions would have been nice. Who's Divine? Who's ruling in the South? Who drank from the Well of Sorrow? It wouldn't have asked much work to just personalize a few sentences to adjust that. Also, saying they only kept 3 choices so they could really mean something... Liar. The only thing that really has an impact is did u date solas or not. Which fine, of course it matters! But all the other romances, the inquisition disbanded or not, stopping solas or not had NO IMPACT whatsoever.

-Where the fuck is Fenris. Idgaf Inquisition had Leliana when she could die in DAO, so bring Fenris in the Shadow Dragon. He needs to be there.

-The Antaam is such a fucking racist trope I can't believe they did it. Yeah, let make them growl like damn animals.

-Speaking of Qunari, even Taash is... Urgh. Why do you mean they sniff people. Also, their whole storyline on their gender identity was badly written. That scene with Isabela... No. That's not how you apologize. You misgender someone by mistake? Say sorry, correct yourself, move on. That's it.

-Dwarves had cool moments in the game but dang, we really, REALLY needed more of it. So many revelation about them, and while some of them were very well written, it doesn't have enough impact.

-The absence of reactions and dialogues related to your race is jarring. Can't believe I'm begging the game for racial slurs but here we are. EVERYONE in Origins commented on you playing an Elf. A non-human Inquisitor faced struggles as the Herald. Why is Qunari Rook able to roam freely in Minrathous without a SINGLE comment on their race? Same for the elves, to a lesser degree since at least they are not a rare occurence in Tevinter. Can't believe dwarves get so little reaction for all the big reveals. Can't believe elves barely get to react to ELVEN GODS destroying the world or Bellara's guilt about it.

-WHERE'S THE CHANTRY. WHERE. DAMN IT. Even if it's not the focus of the game, I'd expect to still see its influence. Man I'm almost wishing Harding was more of a Chantry Girl.

-Morrigan's whole storyline is an insult to her character.

[seeker-ophelia]

Ophelia Rants: Veilguard is Weird

I had another post (Review, Pt 4) composed about how much I love dragons, but the AMA kinda knocked me on my ass.

* * *  

[INTRO]

* * *  

I’m going to share the image I made collected from the results of my survey:

And while everyone only contributed one word for this, it IS possible for Veilguard to be ALL OF THESE THINGS AT ONCE.

Now. We need to take this with a grain of salt and remember that most of these responses came from tumblr, and often ones Social Media Frens are an echo chamber of ones own thoughts.

The words that repeat over and over are all similar; sanitized, shallow, underwhelming, trimmed, incomplete… Fun But Not Dragon Age.

And I could not agree with this more.

Caitie (YT: Ghil Dirthalen BS: Ghil Dirthalen), (Mythal’enaste her and her data-mining efforts) has released so much information from Datamining Veilguard. So much dialogue not used, paths ignored or forgotten, Keep choices abandoned, Lore identified.

Flipping through the Art Book shows how much time and effort and ideas have been put into DA4; all of its iterations. All the creativity, the different worlds, the different possible paths. YEARS of work, abandoned.

Which feels soooo… opposite. I’m not a writer. What’s the word for a complete opposite dichotomy in all things? Contradictory? Inconsistent? Irreconsilable? Antithesis?

How can Dragon Age be Sanitized and Shallow… but so much work be put into it?

* * *

[OPINION]

* * *

After I removed my emotional connection from Dragon Age, IMO, it really does feel like something is missing from this game. Even if one tries to lay down their preconceptions of what the game might have been in their dream world, this game, to me, could not decide what it wanted to be. Narratively, it’s a sequel to Inquisition. Solas’s story matters from Inquisition, the Inquisitor matters from Inquisition… and yet it spends so much time onboarding new players. The story feels simple, the world is straightforward, like its dumbed down for players new to the series.

Inquisition, even though in a gameplay sense it is different from Origins and 2, still feels like its building off of a complex world that the player might not understand. And when I played Inquisition, I hardly understood any of it. That’s part of the joy of Dragon Age. People who read LotR or Malazan or WoT or ASOIAF, don’t expect the author to hold their hand. They’re dumped, unceremoniously, into a world, and they have to figure it out themselves (figure it out through strategically placed tidbits from the author). Dragon Age (O through I), was a masterclass in this, I think. Somehow, no matter how deep you want to dive into the game, whether just playing superficially one-and-done, or playing it over and over to capture as much lore and depth as you can, Origins through Inquisition does that. It gives you just enough crumbs to keep you going, keep you questioning, and to point you enough in the right direction, that when you DID get a lore reveal right, you felt GOOD. Yes, plot-twists and subverting expectations are important, but so is letting your audience figure things out, giving them concrete answers. Veilguard drops you, sure, literally in Minratheous into a Gods Magic Ritual. But then it takes your hand, and skips with you through beautiful landscapes, phenomenal level design, and whirlwind combat, to place you right in front of the information you need. And then gives you a cutscene explaining, just in case you didn’t get it 😉).

We, as fans, need to realize that while the Personality of Veilguard is Toothless, the Lore, The Skeleton, is not.

Yeah, Epler said some things that hurt my feels during the AMA. (I’m ignoring the Solas stuff, because I really do believe Epler is speaking from a personal bias and not from a cannon-perspective. [edit: he just talked bout this on BlueSky]) But do you know why? Because they broke my personal headcannons. They proved MY theory crafting wrong. The real problem with Veilguard is that it came out too late. 10 years is too long to have people care so much about a game and theorize and craft worlds for themselves.

* * *

[LORE]

* * *

Superficially, VG dropped a lot of lore. But Deeply? To the DA Lore-Core? I don’t think they dropped ENOUGH.

[Image Credit: Helena Hansen on ArtStation]

HOW did Soals cleanse the dagger? HOW can Elgy & Ghill control the blight? HOW do they control their archdemons? HOW does the veil work? (How can it be weak with Elgy & Ghilly holding it up but 100%-strong-no-holes-perfectly-good with only Solas providing power for it?) HOW do spirits work? HOW do souls work? WHATS the difference? HOW does a Dragon-thrall-bond work? WHY isn’t Lusacan a Great Dragon? HOW does the rite of tranquility work? WHAT happens to Solavellan in the Fade? Is it different from what happens to a tricked Solas in the fade? WHAT happens now to Hawke/Stroud in the fade? WHAT is an orb? WHAT is a cube? WHATS the difference? WHERE is The Black City? WHAT is the ‘real blight’? (Because according to VG Solas, it’s still in the prison and its still super dangerous and way more dangerous than the blight that’s out in Thedas.) HOW did Solas burn his Vallaslin off? WHAT is the Calling? WHAT is the NEW song in the calling? WHY did ‘Mythal speak the calling’? WHY does lyrium sing? How is lyrium mined? WHY can tranquil work lyrium safely? HOW did Dirth & Falon split? WHY did Dirth & Falon split? WHERE are the rest of the Evanuris? WHERE is the Abyss? WHAT is the Abyss? WHAT do you MEAN there was more than 8 Evanuris?? HOW did you make your lyrium bodies? HOW can Elgar’nan destroy a FEELING?

WHERES MY ELVHEN DICTIONARY.

Obviously not ALL. But SOME of these NEEDED to be answered, or at least strongly alluded to, IN GAME. NOT in an AMA.

“We're leaving that ambiguous on purpose…”

“We haven't been SUPER specific about this…”

“I'm so glad these stories have their hooks in you! We have to leave some threads to tug on for future stories.”

What DID get answered in game?

Some of the Evanuris hats. Archdemons/Old Gods = Evanuris. Solas (w/ Mythal?) tranquil’d the Titans. Solas (accidentally) created the Blight. Solas used a Blood Magic Ritual to create the veil. Solas regrets a lot of things & has mommy issues. Worm-Solas (which, do not get me wrong, a million thank you’s and blessings for werm-Solas… But…) That’s it. That’s IT?

Oh, and there’s a shadow organization that’s been pulling all the strings from behind the scenes but I am NOT getting into how much I hate that idea in this post we don’t have time. Do we? No, we don’t. You know what, fuck it. This is my blog. Once you introduce that idea there is no way anyone NOT the author can know how much sway the puppeteer has over the marionette. ‘Oh it’s just a nUdGe, just a *whisper,* ‘they still have their free will’. Bitch get fucked what does that MEAN. That doesn’t MEAN anything its just a lazy retcon-y way to tie in a new villain to old material. Completely erasing the autonomy of they characters your fanbase has come to love (and love to hate). Do not corporate-speak at me with synergy and circle-back and deliverables. WHAT is a WHISPER? WHAT is a NUDGE? Because unless you lay it all out in an ELI5, NO ONE CAN KNOW- EXCEPT FOR YOU.

Ok obviously I have feelings about that we need to move on.

You can argue Veilguard was about the Evanuris, you can argue that Veilguard was about Solas. You can argue that Veilguard was about Regret and Pride and letting it all go. You can argue that Veilguard was about the ~*Power of Friendship*~ But for me, who has been obsessed with whatever the ever-loving-fuck has been going on in Thedas since 9.30 Dragon, Veilguard is about the Blight.

Corrine from the AMA: What really captures my imagination now that we've resolved some of the mysteries pertaining to the blight and the Elven gods, is exploring the aftermath of this crisis in a deeply destabilized Thedas.

Sorry… What did you answer? We actually know nothing about the Blight except that Solas created it, and with Antonie and Evka claiming the song has changed… what does that mean? Is a Titan consciously controlling the blight now? Is it soothed because Harding Soothed it? Is all the blight from the Kal-Sharok Titan? Are all their orbs/cubes in the Black City? Do the Executors control the blight? What is a calling, then? Will the Wardens never be called to the deep roads again? The Blight is different in a Warden than it is in a darkspawn, or an Archdemon? How? WHY? The wardens are just going to fade from existence because… all the darkspawn are just going to disappear now? Where in game is this stated as truth? Actually, in fact, ZERO questions were answered.

But Wait…

I feel like the news of the AMA COMPLETELY overshadowed the two IGN articles that came out; 1 & 2. Because… holy shit you guys. There was A LOT of lore dropped here.

Unfortunately for Epler & Corrine, and this is a hill I will die on, ALL OF THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN ANSWERED IN GAME. The fact that it was NOT? Is inexcusable. You cannot drop giant lore reveals like this outside of the game and hope it smooths everything over. The lore dropped in these interviews could have been a DLC, a side quest in game, or at the very least a novel or WoT Vol 3.

* * *

[What IS Dragon Age?]  

* * *

I've used this photo before and I'll use it again I fucking love it so much

I wish Veilguard came out a year later, I would have waited longer, paid more for it, if it was a more a whole, inclusive game.

The problem with dumbing down a pre-existing franchise is that you’re alienating the fans that are carrying you on their shoulders. They carried you through a game-less 10 years, and through Andromeda. And you can bet your ass when they drop you, the new fans you roped in with VG are not going to be picking you up.

Dragon Age feels like it cannot find its identity. That Veilguard, inexplicably, does not feel like Dragon Age.

“But how can you explain what Dragon Age feels like when every Dragon Age that came before it was so different?”

New Protagonists, new companions, new locations, everything is different. On top of more meta things; new gameplay, new combat, new art styles, its all different.

So what makes Dragon Age, Dragon Age?

Well, when I was nervous about the game back in September, I asked Kala, when she got pre-access to the game, if she FELT anything.

“I’d love for you to touch on how the game made you FEEL… Did anything you played in Veilguard make you Feel™?”

She sent me a private message with 1 word: Yes.

We can go into the design decision to have the companions react with each other instead of Rook and how that can be alienating to the PC. We can talk about how shafted the romances were. We can go into how gentrified Minrathous and the Crows were. We can go into how child-locked the lore was. We can discuss the toothless-ness of Veilguard.

But Veilguard still made me Feel.

And, even if that emotion is anger, if Veilguard made you Feel, it did it’s job.

[fenharelsfang]

"I don't think I'm ready for this."

The Winter Palace loomed over the Inquisition agents as they stepped through the wrought-iron gate into the front gardens, a colossal silhouette against the twilit sky, crowned in gold and glittering with the setting sun. The soft yellow light of ornate lamp posts dotted the landscape like stars in the night. Violets and lilies adorned bushes in marble planters, their sweet fragrance permeating the air. A large fountain sat in an alcove at the back of the gardens, two sets of stairs curving up to the entrance of the palace proper. Cool, crystal clear water flowed gently over a circle of golden winged lions.

"It's too late to back out now, Inquisitor,” said Josephine, ambassador of the Inquisition. She wore an off-shoulder golden bouffant dress accentuated with embroidered flowers and vines. Her raven-colored hair, usually kept in a low-hanging bun, was now free and draped over one shoulder. She wore a delicate golden amulet adorned with a ruby in its center. Gold eyeliner complimented her hazel eyes.

“Do stop slouching, please,” she continued as she scrutinized the Inquisitor’s appearance. “How you present yourself is a matter of life and death when it comes to the Game. It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness. Even more so when we approach the court. The Inquisition must not show weakness or they will eat us alive."

Ellana Lavellan, the Inquisitor currently being berated by her diplomatic advisor for her posture, straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. None of what Josephine said made her feel any better about the situation, though.

"Correction: I know I am not ready for this."

Ellana was Dalish! They didn't go to fancy balls or dress in the latest human fashion. She didn't even own a dress! What she wore now was entirely too thin and fragile to survive a day in the forest. However, Josephine insisted she look the part of a proper Lady. Elves had an ethereal beauty to them and it needed to be flaunted if they were to impress Empress Celene. Ellana felt that would be easy, considering Celene used to have an elven lover, but Josephine's fretting over the downfall of the Inquisition's reputation would not abate.

Now, Ellana stood before her fellow agents in a white silk gown, cinched at the waist by a golden brooch with the Inquisition symbol etched into it. The gown had a plunging neckline, framed by a high collar that was tied with golden string at the collarbone. It was simple, but the added golden embellishments gave it an air of elegance that was hard to deny. With her light blonde hair woven into an intricate updo and accentuated by a golden winged circlet, she was the epitome of what the Herald of Andraste should look like.

... Aside from the pointed ears and the face tattoos honoring a goddess who was not the Maker.

As they were actually here in the Winter Palace to prevent an assassination, Ellana had alterations made to the dress. The skirt could be peeled off, revealing leggings underneath that would allow her to move without exhibiting her undergarments for all to see. The skirt was also long enough that it hid her feet. They sported bottomless sandals rather than the jeweled slippers that Josephine wanted her to wear. Ellana needed to feel the ground underneath her feet. Elemental magic was her specialty and shoes got in the way of channeling the energy of the earth.

"Smile, Inquisitor. Eyes are upon us," Leliana encouraged. Her smile, relaxed and confident, was entirely uncharacteristic of the usually cold and deadly demeanor of the spymaster. She almost looked at home among the elite of Orlais and Ellana had to remind herself that this was all a façade.

The Inquisitor flashed a smile at passing nobles that didn’t quite reach her emerald eyes due to her growing anxiety. Leliana’s own smile faltered and she silently shook her head to get Ellana to stop.

"Honestly, you aren't doing yourself any favors with the company you've decided to bring with you," Josephine muttered under her breath, not paying the slightest bit of attention to the Inquisitor’s struggle. The Antivan glanced behind them to take in their entourage. Everyone was dressed in fine red velvet suits trimmed in gold with blue sashes extending across their chests and wrapping around their waists. At least they were uniform in that regard.

Ellana tilted her head at the ambassador. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, an apostate elf? A Qunari spy? A spirit boy? Dorian at least has some exposure to the nobility, but he's from Tevinter!"

"I am technically an apostate elf, too, mind you," Ellana shot back defensively, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Solas has given me good counsel since the beginning of this whole ordeal." The slight curving of Leliana's lips did not go unnoticed by her and she quickly continued. "They won't even remember seeing Cole and Iron Bull knows how to behave in court. He wouldn't be a Ben-Hassrath if he couldn't blend into his surroundings."

Josephine sighed. "I suppose, but Madame Vivienne, Varric, Blackwall, or even Cassandra would have been a better choice."

It was an unspoken agreement that bringing Sera would be a catastrophe.

"As you said yourself: it's too late to back out now. Let's just get this over with."

She took one step before spotting Duke Gaspard weaving his way through the crowd of nobles in the garden. He wore a suit of teal silk brocade, adorned with silverite pauldrons. A red sash was draped over his broad chest. His face, as was Orlesian custom, was hidden behind a golden half-mask. Ellana could barely see his eyes through the slits and it unnerved her greatly. You could gauge an individual's intentions through their eyes, creature or human. Did he have something to hide?

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor Lavellan," he greeted in a thick Orlesian accent. He took her hand and kissed the back of it, the stubble of his beard leaving red scratch marks on her skin. She resisted the urge to wince.

"Bringing the rebel mages into the ranks of your army was a brilliant move," he continued and leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. "Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais!"

Ah, so he was fishing for support. He figured he had an edge on the competition since she accepted his invitation to the masquerade. Arrogant man.

"Oh?" she asked and put a finger to her chin thoughtfully. "Which one was the rightful one, again? I keep getting them confused."

Gaspard let out a genuine laugh, the sound emanating from deep within his chest. "Why, the handsome, charming one of course, my lady!"

She could feel his eyes graze over her body appraisingly, lingering for no small amount of time on her chest, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The dress was definitely a mistake. Behind her, the air cooled considerably and Solas cleared his throat. The agonizingly long moment ended and Gaspard extended an arm for her to take.

"My lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper?" He grinned devilishly down at her.

She, playing the part of charming guest, smiled up at him, all teeth and dimpled cheeks. "I can't imagine that crowd has seen anything better than us in their entire lives," she joked. Gaspard laughed and placed a hand over the one holding his arm. He pierced her with his gaze through those slitted eyes.

"You are a woman after my own heart," he replied, voice husky. Oh no, she was making this worse. The hand resting over her own was pressed up against her breast, a rather sly way to grope her. The Game was not something she was adept at. Was this even part of the Game? All she knew was that she couldn't part from him soon enough.

They ascended the stairs towards the entrance of the Winter Palace and, along the way, the whispers of the nobles did not go unnoticed.

"Is that the Inquisitor?"

"An elven savage? Maker forbid!"

"Andraste would never choose a knife-ear as her herald."

"Is this Gaspard's idea of a joke?"

"Perhaps she's his whore. She certainly dresses like one."

"Those marks on her face are hideous."

Each comment was a dagger to her pride. Her cheeks burned with shame. They had a point: why would Andraste choose an elf to save Thedas? Ellana didn't even believe in the Maker. Their opinions shouldn't have mattered, but they did. It wasn't just because they were directed at her. She was the face of the Inquisition and a negative opinion of her would reflect poorly on her people. They deserved better than that.

The walk to the front entrance stretched on for an eternity. Ellana did her best to keep her composure and block out the horrible remarks, with little success. She was vaguely aware of Gaspard speaking to her about his concerns for the night, namely that Briala, the elven ambassador, was up to something with her legion of servants. Ellana’s jaw tightened.

"Tell me there's more to your suspicion than 'the elves were acting dodgy'," she interrupted, her tone taking on a sharp edge. Gaspard was taken aback by her sudden change in mood. Of course he didn't notice what was being said about her. Or he did, but didn't care. Elves meant less than nothing to humans.

"Briala used to be a servant of Celene's," Gaspard argued. "That is, until my cousin had her arrested for crimes against the empire to cover up a political mistake. If anyone in this room wishes Celene harm, Inquisitor, it's that elf. She certainly has reason."

Right, the assassination attempt. That's what really mattered. Why should she care what those idiot nobles thought of her when the fate of the world was at stake? And yet it gnawed away at her from the inside all the same. Perhaps she was afraid those remarks were mere echoes of her own thoughts.

"I'll look into it," she said, deflated.

Gaspard sighed. "Be as discreet as possible," he warned. "I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains."

He relinquished her arm when they entered the vestibule and left to mingle with a few of the guests. Ellana breathed a sigh of relief and turned to face her entourage.

"When you meet the empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you," Josephine reminded her. She smoothed out a crinkle in Ellana's dress and adjusted her collar. "You were safer staring down Corypheus, I'm afraid. The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death. You must never reveal your cards."

A wave of nausea swept over Ellana. Her heart pounded against her ribcage like a war drum. Outside, she had fresh air, but in the palace the walls seemed to press in, threatening to crush her. Through it all, the disparaging remarks of the nobles were building to a crescendo in her mind, drowning out all other noise.

"You're just full of joy and light this evening," she managed to croak out when Josephine continued to stare at her. It was supposed to be a light-hearted jest but lacked the substance.

"Everything will be fine," Josephine said, to herself more than anyone else. "Andraste watch over us all."

The group broke apart then, Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana ascending another set of stairs to scope out the perimeter before the festivities started.

"I’m headed to the buffet,” said Bull as he patted his growling stomach. "I'm starving."

"Vishante kaffas, don't just shovel it in your mouth like a savage, you oaf," Dorian grumbled. He followed after the Qunari to try to prevent a disaster.

Cole had already vanished.

The anticipation of the night's events threatened to overwhelm Ellana and she tried to quickly and gracefully descend another set of stairs that led into a storage room. She just needed a moment to collect herself, a place to catch her breath. There was a mirror in the storage room with a great golden frame, a lion head jutting out on either side of the arch. She caught her reflection in it as she paced the small space and stopped. Her hands went to her knife-shaped ears, traced the hideous marks on her forehead and cheeks, the Dalish version of a mask. The sudden hatred that consumed her spilled over and she tossed the feathered circlet off of her head, yanking her hair out of the updo that took Josephine hours to do. She tried to style her hair so it would hide her ears. On a table next to the mirror sat a few discarded masks. She picked one up and placed it over her face to hide her vallaslin.

There, now she looked more human. Acceptable ... right? So why did her stomach continue to churn? Why were hot, angry tears threatening to spill over?

"What are you doing?"

Ellana gasped and spun around. She was so caught up in her emotional turmoil that she didn't hear the door open or even see the elf behind her in the mirror.

"Solas! I was just--"

His brows knitted in concern as he took in her wild hair and covered face. 'I'm fine,' was her instinctual response, but it never reached her lips. It was impossible to lie to him. He was wise beyond his years and though they had only known each other a short amount of time, she felt he knew, intimately, the depths of her heart.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted in a whisper, her bottom lip trembling as the tears finally slipped down her cheeks. "This isn't --- Did you hear the things they said? I don't belong here."

He slowly approached her until they were mere inches apart. There was fire in his eyes, a righteous fury. For her? Or maybe he thought her foolish. His fingertips slipped under the edge of the mask, grazing her wet cheeks before gently removing the mask from her face. He tossed it aside, never taking his eyes off of her. Mesmerized, she couldn't look away.

"They are not worth your tears."

His hands cupped her face, wiping her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Her breath hitched in her throat. His hands were rough, calloused, but the gesture was tender. He cradled her face like he was holding the world in his hands, his gaze so intense it was as if nothing else existed in that moment but them. The echoes of the nobles' words faded away as she hung onto every one of his.

"I'm the Inquisitor," she protested. "I'm supposed to represent the Inquisition. This meeting hinges on what the court makes of me and they just see me as an elven savage--! If I were human--"

"You are Elvhen," Solas declared, cutting off her downward spiral. "Our people built an empire that spanned all of Thedas. We created wonders the likes of which no other race has ever accomplished and never will."

This was the first time he had ever referred to her as one of his people. When they first met, he showed such scorn for the Dalish and didn't associate himself with city elves. He stood apart and above everyone else. His name meant 'pride' in the elven language, but she only ever saw him as ... lonely. Now he was including her in his world, the world of the true elves. Who knew whether he was right, but the meaning itself meant everything to her.

"Beyond that," he continued as he circled around behind her, "you are the Inquisitor." His fingers brushed against the nape of her neck as he started to gather her hair into his hands, handling it like it was made of the finest silk. "You command an army that makes nations tremble.” Her scalp tingled as he continued to brush his fingers through her hair. “Ferelden, Orlais, the Free Marches, they hang on to your every word and beg for the salvation that only you can deliver. You stand defiant against a would-be god and his archdemon. Be proud of who and what you are."

He leaned in close to her, lips a hair's breadth from her ear. "And you are the most beautiful woman in this entire palace," he murmured. Goosebumps erupted down her arms and the back of her neck, making her shiver, but unlike with Gaspard it was thrilling, not revolting. Desire sparked in her core and she fought back the urge to spin around and crush her lips against his. He was tying her hair up into a bun, not the complicated braided crown that Josephine had created, but loose and elegant, leaving her ears visible for all to see.

"These nobles fear the power you wield. Your beauty is a height they can never hope to reach. Envious, they must try to tear you down instead. Do not let them."

The bun was finished and he stepped back around to her front, his hands planting firmly on her hips. His words stole the breath from her lungs and set her heart fluttering. No one had ever spoken of her that way before. Not her clan, not her friends, not even her former lover. The words rolled off of his tongue so easily like they were waiting to be said.

"Sweet talker," she managed in a breathless whisper.

There was a spark of amusement in his eyes, though it was quickly covered by a solid determination. "I speak the truth," he said and she believed him. Even if it wasn't objectively true, it was to him and needed to be said.

Fear creeped into her voice as the weight of the words made her falter. He held her in such high regard. Maybe too high. "What if I fail?" she asked.

"You won't."

A nervous laugh bubbled out of her. "You have such confidence in me."

"It is well-deserved."

Ellana swallowed, all too aware of the warmth of his hands through the fabric of her dress. She tilted her head back to get a better look at him and tried to take a step closer, but he held her in place. There was a storm churning in his steel blue eyes, a flurry of emotions warring inside of him. Excitement. Adoration. Desire. Then regret, resignation. Behind it all, a sorrow so deep and endless she felt she might drown in it. He was always restraining himself. In the Fade, on the balcony of her room, his heart and mind were at odds with each other. There was an obvious attraction between them. He had already kissed her twice before, but still something kept holding him back. The chains of a past she knew nothing about. He spoke of his journeys through the Fade, but never of himself. All of those pretty words and no follow-up.

"You're always so detached and self-controlled, Solas,” she observed. Her hands rested atop his and felt them tremble as she gently pried them away. "But you don't need to be ... not with me."

Fingers danced along the velvet fabric of his suit before resting against his chest. She could feel his erratic heartbeat through his jacket and knew then that her words were true. So she did have the same effect on him that he had on her. A hesitant step forward closed the distance between them further.

"This is dangerous," he breathed, eyelids drooping. His resolve was faltering.

"I like danger." She gripped the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer. They were mere inches away from each other now.

"Ellana," he warned and a thrill pulsed through her at the sound of her name on his lips.

"What are you so afraid of?"

He struggled to find the words, eyes glossed over as if trapped in a memory. She watched him for a moment, noting the light dusk of freckles across his cheeks and nose, the scar above his brow, the curve of his jaw, the fullness of his lips. It was as if the gods themselves sculpted him. He was beautiful.

She rested a hand against his cheek to pull him back to the present. "Solas?"

"... I don't want to lose you," he finally admitted, leaning into her touch. His fingers curled around hers and her heart ached. There were such thick walls around his heart and though she chipped away at it, she still hadn't completely broken through. Solas was always looking miles ahead of everyone else or behind in his past, but never in the moment.

Her smile was kind, patient. "You still have me," she assured him and traced the line of his jaw down to his chin. "I don't know what the future holds for us. I don't know if we'll defeat Corypheus or what will happen to the Inquisition. I don't know if you and I will stay together or drift apart, but fear of the future shouldn't stop us from enjoying the present. What I do know is that you make me feel ... important. Like I matter beyond my titles. Me, Ellana. Not the Inquisitor, not the Herald of Andraste, not the Keeper's First. Just ... me. You look at me like I'm the only thing that matters .. like the world could crumble all around us and you wouldn't even notice." She glanced down, her cheeks tinged red. "Perhaps it's selfish of me, but I want to be the only one you look at that way."

She felt him take her chin and tip it up, his gaze a smoldering flame that slowly drifted down to settle on her mouth.

"You are."

Their lips met and everything he had held back from her flooded into that kiss. His adoration and desire burned against her like a wildfire. She grew lightheaded from the force of it, but craved the taste of him as a Templar coveted lyrium. They parted for a brief moment to catch their breath and his hands found her waist again, though this time it was to pull her against him. Her dress, so flimsy before, was now far too thick. She wound her arms around his neck, her tongue flicking against his lips. That elicited a groan deep in his chest that rumbled against her own. He was unraveling before her and it exhilarated her. The kiss broke again only for her to pepper more across his jaw and down his throat.

"Ellana," he groaned. It spurred her to start hastily undoing the buttons of his jacket, but he brought her face back up to capture her lips again. The kiss deepened and she felt his tongue in her mouth, gliding along her own. He gripped the backs of her thighs and lifted her up onto his waist, her back hitting the wall. She braced herself against it and wrapped her legs around him for support. His hands slid up underneath her dress and caressed her thighs and she moaned. Her leggings were still in the way, but his fingertips teased along the waistline. That flame he sparked inside of her became an all-consuming fire.

"Solas," she whimpered as kisses traced her collarbone. Her fingers tried to find the buttons of his jacket again, but now his lips were at her breasts. She had awakened a wolf in him that lay dormant for far too long and it was ravenous for the taste of her flesh. He was struggling to bring himself back under control, but she didn't want him to. He brought his lips back to her jawline, his cheek brushing against hers.

"Ar lath, ma vhenan," he breathed and time stopped. She went rigid in his grip and he stared up at her as if surprised the words had spilled from his mouth. They stared at each other, fighting for breath and trying to make sense of the words through their delirium. He slowly lowered her back to the ground, though his arms stayed wrapped around her. She, too, refused to let go of him.

"...You do?" she asked. Her arousal, though definitely still there, was melting into something else.

His eyes searched hers, trying to discern how she felt about the words, but then he set his jaw, resolute. "I do."

The confession hung between them for an agonizing moment and he swallowed, his throat bobbing in anticipation of her reaction. A wide grin spread across her flushed face. There was attraction between them, yes, but she never expected that it went deeper than that for him ... that he loved her, that he would admit it first. She had been in love with him from the moment they met, when he first grabbed her hand and showed her the power that she wielded. He always seemed so lonely and sad, but he would positively light up when speaking about the Fade. She lived for those stories. His smile, as rare and fleeting as it was, could brighten her whole day. When he laughed? Indescribable. She only heard it once and it became her personal mission to hear it again. But her fears mirrored his: she didn't want to lose him either, so she never built up the courage to tell him how she felt. Now he admitted it himself. Her hands cupped his face and she kissed him tenderly.

"Ar lath, ma vhenan," she declared in return.

He flashed her a crooked grin before pulling her back against him, intending to finish what they started.

Until the door to the storage room creaked open.

"There you are, Inquisitor," Josephine announced with no small degree of relief. "We've been looking ev- Oh." The scene before her finally registered and she blushed, averting her eyes respectfully. "Oh, do forgive me." she apologized, "I seem to have opened the wrong door."

"Josephine!” Ellana called out in surprise. Her face turned the shade of spindleweed and she let go of Solas, smoothing out her dress. “It’s fine, we were just–”

Solas glanced over his shoulder at the ambassador before calmly picking Ellana’s circlet off of the floor and placing it back on her head. How could he be so poised?! She was mortified, but he had an air of smugness about him, as if being caught making out with the Inquisitor in a closet was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes, well, the court is ready to receive us,” Josephine said, her gaze still averted. “I will meet you upstairs.” With that, she slipped back out of the door.

Ellana released a breath she didn’t know she was holding and adjusted the brooch and her hair. “Right, well, I guess it’s time to meet the empress.”

“Remember my words,” Solas told her as he straightened his own jacket.

“How could I forget them?” She buttoned up his jacket and fixed the sash, aware that he was gazing at her fondly. “Save me a dance?”

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Perhaps, as soon as our present business is concluded.”

“I'll hold you to that.” She grinned and headed out of the storage room to meet up with Josephine.

Thankfully, it seemed the nobles were so caught up in their own affairs that they didn't seem to pay her much mind. A few cursive glances her way and more whispering, but she found herself less bothered by them than before.

“Be proud of who you are.”

She lifted her head to stare down her nose at them and confidently strode upstairs and into the ballroom.

[lesetoilesfous]

anyway here's my thoughts on veilguard.

i liked it! i really, genuinely enjoyed it. there were moments that made me cry and truly moved me. there were plot twists that really surprised and shocked me. i felt emotionally impacted by the game. i love so many of the characters - both companions and npcs. it's beautiful. it's fun to play.

is it a perfect game? of course not! a) there's no such thing b) gang, i thought we knew this?? it's a game that's been in development for a decade, more than 3/4 of the team got laid off, it's had its usp constantly switched around lord knows how many times. it was never going to be perfect! i went in with my expectations underground and came out with a game i liked much more than inquisition.

neither inquisition nor veilguard were ever going to be like origins and da2. the creative team changed massively between those games. but also, the world changed! the industry changed! the climate in which people were working changed! for goodness sake there was an entire pandemic!

we were never and are never going to get games like da2 and origins again because the world is different now and that's ok. it's good to have new things!

could there have been more conflict in veilguard? sure. could it have been more politically and socially sensitive? maybe. but you know what? i work in media and i know how incredibly fucking hard it is to get any kind of purse-holder to sign off on one explicitly trans character, let alone nine (by my last count): specifically and lovingly designed across a wide spectrum of voice and appearance to illustrate that non-binary is not 'girl-lite' or a third gender, it's just not binary.

we went from vivienne being BALD in inquisition because they couldn't be fucked to design afro hair to a game where it is literally not possible to have an all-white or an all-male team for the first 5 or so hours of the game. one of your team members is a south asian woman with a prosthetic leg and at no point is her disability fetishised or exoticised.

god knows its not perfect but gang i really don't think y'all are recognising how fucking much good stuff we got in this game. literally, please, give me the title of another AAA game that has this much explicit trans rep. that has this many major characters of colour written with care and thoughtfulness. this many companions who are people of colour and essential to the plot. do you know how hard that is???? and everyone got fired!!!! it took 10 years!!! despite everything they got all this through!!!

like. it's not surprising to me the game is gentler than earlier entries in the series. earlier entries in the series are also, often, VERY RACIST. as far as earlier entries in the series are concerned: transgender people don't exist (except Krem, of course, but he is one character in a very big game). they are so obviously trying so hard and in a landscape where i literally cannot think of any other game of this scale and budget that is trying at all, yeah, i'm giving them a pass!

the things that drove me nuts in previous DA games were the christian fascism, the genocide apologism, the white supremacy, the 'peaceful protest' crap, the copaganda. veilguard doesn't do that and it's amazing and heartbreaking to me that so few folks in the fandom seem to value that.

there's this thing that happens whenever a piece of media is actually, truly diverse where fandom attacks it much, much more savagely than media that is actually racist, sexist etc (supernatural vs steven universe, star wars vs dream daddy, etc). people translate the fact that it takes them a little longer to connect with characters they're unused to seeing in fiction into meaning that the art is 'objectively bad'. and then assholes with money use that violently negative reaction to justify continuing to make games without trans people or brown people or a majority of female characters.

"look! veilguard did that! nobody liked it!"

please. consider why you are reacting so much more harshly to a game like this than you did to a game where you literally led a catholic inquisition, planted your flag in indigenous people's land, and had the power to enact military law on anyone unlucky enough to come across your army of religious zealots, up to and including executions.

no one is perfect. fandom isn't activism. consumption of media isn't activism. you're allowed to dislike things and you're allowed to yell about it on the internet and it's my responsibility to block content i don't want to see. i get that.

but just in case anyone else is feeling the way i am: i liked veilguard. i think they tried really hard. i think a lot of the team got fucked over by asshole bosses and worse executives. i think the game obviously got cut short and rushed, which we knew before it came out. and i still think they wrestled a fun, emotionally impactful game out of that housefire, and that that's worth celebrating.

[cadaveerie]

the things i'm the most and least excited about for Dragon Age: The Veilguard!

includes DATV spoilers from the trailers and articles

i might continuously edit this post until the game actually launches as we receive new info!

all of these have been confirmed by the devs, except for those in which i clarify the opposite (ie: those that i write with a "possibly", which have probably been only suggested). if you want the source for any of these specifically let me know!

and a big shoutout to felassan for answering my question, because i started wondering if i just made up the 'pause during cutscene' thing, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out where I'd heard that lol

anyway, here it is!

GENERAL

no EA app or online mode/internet to play the game

pause during cutscenes

interruptible and resumable banter

no micro-transactions

CC

the character creator!!! - more diverse bodies, better (and darker. and better dark) skin tones and afro-textured hair!

change of voice pitch for Rook!

trans Rook! they/them Rook! and the ability to express that in-game!

b-bulge slider.......? t-tittie slider?????

different lighting options in character creator :]

in-game name suggestions for rook :]

nudity :D:D:D SEXOOO

PURPLE ROOK!!!!! (sarcastic/charming, like hawke. im gonna be insufferable to solas specifically)

CHARACTERS

"not that skeleton, but we're not saying no skeletons" as an answer to whether we can romance manfred (..... the fuck. idk what that means but... im game)

bi/pan romanceable companions! - it makes me happy, especially as someone non-binary and genderfluid. i'll die on this hill

paraphrasing: “the most romantic game yet”..... mmmm… yes….

the companions overall... i rly like both the designs and what we know of them

"are there companions gifts again" John: "(...) you very well might find things in the world that certain companions would appreciate!"

John: "Not going to get into specifics on interactables, but there is more to do in the Lighthouse than conversations with companions. The Lighthouse does have a kitchen, and your companions acknowledge it/use it both narratively and ambiently. Some maybe better than others."

more focus and intentionality on the companions' stories and relationships! yay!

inquisitor presence :D

maybe solas and inky? - not confirmed that they'll interact, but pleaaaase let them. no matter if it's a romance, friendship or hateful relationship, i need to see a reunion

the relationship between solas and rook! - from what they'd said it looks like they're gonna have a fun dynamic!!! i hope that it's kind of a bad relationship but that at some points there can be some appreciation, or respect. i think they said that it could be change, depending on you

cameos!!! - we know there will be some. confirmed morrigan cameo! my bets for others are on dorian (and mae), fenris (copium), zevran (copiumx2). and maybe these are reaches but... perhaps cassandra? leliana? illario? alistair? sten? either way im looking forward to it!

700 characters (wtf)

140,000 lines of dialogue (wtf x2. almost double of Inquisition's (80,000))

DREADWOLF WOLF FORM! DREADWOLF WOLF FORM!!! *scratches his belly*

LORE

visiting places we have never seen before like Tevinter, Antiva, Anderfels, Nevarra, Rivain, etc

more thedas deep lore!!! - elven gods! and this hasn't been confirmed, but since we'll go there... will there be tevinter lore? anderfels lore? rivain lore? antivan lore? titans lore (my theory is because of Harding)!?

GRAPHICS and CUSTOMIZATION

possibly a camera mode

beautiful textures!

beautiful landscape!

very nice hair physics! (big improvement)

gear customization + transmog

enable/disable helmets for cutscenes

COMBAT

I rly like the subclasses… they feel so…. gothic

combat looks more dynamic overall!

combos with the companions!

finisher animations!

mages can move while attacking apparently?

and they^ can use staffs, daggers and orbs :0

parry + shield toss :0

and i'm just excited to see how it actually feels while playing and how everything progresses!

things I'm kinda sad/disappointed about. just a little

only can bring two companions along (probably a 3 party total?)

probably no trans, they/them or they/x companions? :( (im assuming there will be characters that are trans (mae) and go by them/them or multiple pronouns, but i mean companions specifically)

only 7 companions. i was a little disappointed at first but tbh im fine w it now haha

they haven't talked about rook as a character much so im a little worried about that, their personal journey, their dialogue etc :')

that rook doesn't seem to have different beginnings depending on his origin :( not a huge deal but tbh i loved that about origins

can't choose multiple pronouns :( perhaps it's possible? they've explicitly said that you can go by he, she or they, but i don't think that implies multiple at the same time. it can't be that hard to program it so that it randomly changes between two or more pronouns, right? idk about game development so i dont actually know, sorry if i'm ignorant

this is suuuper nitpicky but in relation to the graphics.. i kinda wish the skins looked slightly.. different? idk how to put it, but they look kind of smooth? maybe too much? i just wish they had a little bit more texture, it kinda looks like they have a beauty filter, imo, and i think it would look better if they look slightly differently

and i have mixed feelings about how the characters are stylized overall. like... y'know, the whole "cartoony" discourse. at first i didnt like it at all, but since we've seen more im way more on board. still... i kinda feel like some things could look a bit nicer

idk how i feel about how the darkspawn look. like it's not a huge deal to me either, but... i just wish they looked different. lol. they do look a little bit goofy

and idk if i like the... veiny/nervous system looking-thing in demons either? like, i like it in theory but tbh in practice im not too sure

the remake of the warden's logo :((

that's it!

tbh im just happy about most things they've said and shown so far. i think a lot of these things are a good sign. also, things like the "not ea app necessary" make me inclined to believe that this is something they've had to fight for (cause you know, if ea could choose they'd do things their way) and that's something i appreciate a lot. that's why i think this and a lot of other choices and changes they've made in relation to the last game, are good signs that they've listened to our feedback in a lot of things! and i hope this reflects in the entirety of the game. i hope it's the case. idk i'm positive about this game! a little scared ofc, because i care and i want it to be as good as possible, but excited nonetheless!

are there things i didn't include but that you are excited about? what are you looking the most forward to, overall? i'd appreciate to see your excitement and know what you like the most!

[oldwritingm]

hiii can i req prompt "9 & 16" for the event with lloyd :3 congrats on 300!!! (i dont rlly have any scenarios in mind sorry :( )

Yes ofc!! Inspired by my love of winter scenery yet hatred of the cold,, hope this turned out okay!!

Word count: 1.4k

Ninjago - 9. “You’re beautiful.” and 16. “You have no idea how cute you are.” (Lloyd) (300 follower event)

It was more than cold outside. With the sun hidden behind thick, dark clouds that promised snow, the world was deprived of whatever warmth might have been permitted in the harsh winter. Frost crept up the windows of the Bounty, yet as you looked out the blurry glass, you felt compelled to venture out into the frozen wasteland.

Donning your thickest winter gear, you stepped outside and down the ladder. You realized that this was no wasteland at all; the evergreen forest in which you were grounded was gorgeous. Tufts of deep green needles accented the blanket of white snow draped across the landscape, and when you paused, you could hear a stream bubbling somewhere.

You ignored the way the air nipped at your face, smiling to yourself in complete bliss unburdened by the cold.

You heard the crunching of snow behind you, and you looked over your shoulder to see Lloyd, bundled up in his winter gear. He approached you with a smile, reaching out a gloved hand to hold yours. Without saying a word, you both began your trek through the snowy woods.

Lloyd let you take the lead, so you decided to follow the sound of the creek. It was difficult at first to discern the noise over two pairs of boots creaking through the snow, but as you went on the sound gradually overpowered the noise. You rounded a large rock coated in snow at the top and dipped in frost at the bottom, tinting the wet black stone a softer grayish hue, and there it was.

The black water cascaded over stones of a similar shade, white bubbling torrents streaking the water as it rushed along. You squatted down to examine the water, trying to see something through the darkness.

As your face drew closer to the stream, the blackness seemed to be more of a dark greenish blue, and you could indeed see pebbles in the shallow water by the bank. You pulled off a glove and reached inside, gasping at the freezing temperature. You felt around the bank quickly, looking for a nice flat stone.

“What are you doing?” Lloyd wondered aloud, still standing upright behind you.

In answer you held up an excellent skipping stone, and in a moment Lloyd knew what you were about to do.

You tossed the stone, frowning when it plopped straight into the water without skipping once. Lloyd let out a little ooh and gave your shoulder a sympathetic pat. “Second time’s the charm?”

You shook your head, yanking your glove back on. “Second time’s the one I get frostbite. That water is cold!”

You came up to your feet and held out your hand, waiting for Lloyd to grab it before you set off again.

You decided to follow the stream, appreciating the quiet rushing noise. Looking at the water made your fingers, which were still a little wet inside your glove, feel cold, so you looked virtually everywhere else.

While your gaze was directed up at the trees, Lloyd was looking at the stream. As his eyes traced the banks and the water flowing in sculpted curves around rocks and depressions in the riverbed, he suddenly spotted a little patch of green.

It was right where the bank met the snow that covered the forest floor: just a little patch of frosty green grass, with a single purple flower poking out the side closest to the water. As you approached, Lloyd suddenly stooped down to pluck it.

You looked at him, having felt the motion through your locked hands. You sent him an inquisitive look, perking up your eyebrow. He was smiling hugely when he straightened himself again, and between his forefinger and thumb was a little flower, coated gracefully in frost.

Your eyes went wide, marveling at the sight. The frost made it look like it was coated in crystals. Lloyd let you look at it for a moment before reaching up to your face and tucking it behind your ear.

His gloved hand cupped your cheek. He looked between you and the flower, his eyes finally anchoring on yours, looking straight into your soul with nothing but pure admiration.

“You’re beautiful.”

It was the first thing he’d said in a while, and the sound of his voice seemed just as natural as the din of the water gushing behind him. Still, it caught you by surprise, and your cheeks were suddenly warm.

You smiled, switching your grip on his hand to a more intimate grasp in the crook of his elbow. You clung to his side, leaning your head against his shoulder as you proceeded on your walk. This proved to be an excellent idea; not only was the proximity making your hearts fuzzy, but it was also keeping your bodies warm, which was becoming increasingly important the longer you were outside.

Just as you had suspected, the clouds began to shed snow. You looked up to watch the fluffy flakes float down, mesmerized by their delicate dances from the heavens to the ground.

You paused your walk to stare, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Lloyd’s head turning upwards, too. You laughed when you noticed that his tongue was sticking out. He was trying to catch a snowflake on it, bobbing his head this way and that in hopes of getting one.

“You have no idea how cute you are.”

He side-eyed you, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a smile, but he kept at his task. You decided to join him, dashing left and right to catch the sparse flakes.

You had come apart to hunt snowflakes independently, but you suddenly crashed back together when you both dove for the same one. You tumbled onto the snow, tangling your limbs as you fell.

Laughter erupted from both of your mouths. You giggled until your bellies were sore and your lungs were aching, but you didn’t really feel compelled to get up until the snow started to soak through your pants. You seemed to notice it at the same time; your faces suddenly sobered and you looked straight at each other.

In a wordless exchange you had decided that it was time to head back. Lloyd got up first, brushing himself off brusquely before extending a hand to help you up.

You started to walk back, but Lloyd was lingering behind. You got a few yards away before you had to turn around to check on him, and you found him digging through the snow, bending at the waist to do so.

You were about to ask what he was doing when he suddenly sprang back up and jogged over to you. Pinched in his fingers was the flower he had given you, snowflakes spotting the still-frosty purple petals. He grinned hugely as he tucked it behind your ear and pecked you on the cheek.

“Couldn’t forget that,” he explained, hooking your arms together and marching along. You smiled fondly, the feeling of the icy stem strangely comforting against your ear.

When you got back to the Bounty it was just about blizzarding, and you were both holding your arms above your heads to protect your faces; a futile effort that just resulted in your forearms being peppered in even more flakes than they would have gotten at your sides.

You let out a long breath when you were finally enveloped in the warmth of the Bounty, and you fairly ripped off your snow-soaked layers, abandoning them in a heap by the door while you sought out somewhere to bundle up with a blanket.

Lloyd had a similar idea, but he first went to the kitchen. You found a place on the couch, immediately throwing together a nest of blankets and burying yourself in it. You called out to Lloyd to let him know where you were, and in a moment he came scurrying in with two steaming mugs.

“Hot cocoa?” You perked up hopefully.

Lloyd bent down to kiss your forehead, nodding. You opened your nest for him to crawl inside, taking both the mugs while he adjusted himself.

He held out his hands to take his own mug, but you brought them both close to your chest.

“No,” you pouted, “these things are warm.”

But you had to relent to Lloyd’s puppy-dog eyes, which he cruelly whipped out right at that moment. With a sigh you surrendered his mug, wrapping your other hand around your own to absorb its warmth.

As outside, neither of you spoke. You basked in the reverence of peace, remembering the wonders you’d seen outside yet appreciating the atmosphere of your current surroundings. There was only bliss, and cocoa, and the feeling of increasingly warm skin against your own as you lay nestled together with your love.

Thanks so much for participating in our event!! And thanks for reading, take care sweet duckies <33

(divider by saradika)

[profoundfics]

Tertiary Opinions I/II

Unorthodox Introductions - II: Lighthouse

Rating: Mature - Canon Typical Violence and Sex

Pairing: Rook Ingellvar x Emmrich Volkarin (Neve Gallus x Lucanis Dellamort | Lace Harding x Taash)

(A03 Chapter Index) | (Tumblr Chapter Index)

-- --

The Eluvian in the middle of the main hall glowed with magic that Emmrich never thought he would live to see. The surface shimmered, and beyond was a land mass with floating masses visible in the distance like cheap fantasy landscapes of The Fade that cold be procured at any market. It was humbling to see the reality.

Rook glanced up at him. ‘This really is something,’ she said. ’Nothing any of us have ever read or dreamt could even begin to prepare us for what is really through there.’ Her hand reached up, touched the glass then passed right through it.

‘Come on,’ Bellara encouraged, and he followed Rook through the mirror.

The air left Emmrich’s lungs, replaced by something lighter that coursed through his veins, renewing his vigour. Around them, four mirrors towered over them, their surfaces shimmered as the one they had passed through. Buildings hung suspended in the air, some twisting lazily and to his left was the twinkling of gold atop a spire of - .

‘Well, Professor?’

Rook was a little way ahead of him, watching him over her shoulder.

‘This that The Black City?’ He asked jerking his head in the direction of the city like structure and golden spire. ‘So close,’ he mummered when Rook nodded her head.

’No wonder Bellara had so many questions,’ he said as she emerged through the mirror behind him. ‘Where are we exactly?’

‘This is part of the Crossroads,’ explained Rook.

‘I thought they were closed off after the Inquisition foiled the Qunari plot at the Exalted Council,’ said Emmrich, moving to follow Rook as she started to walk towards an archway.

‘The guardian here, The Caretaker, says this place is not exactly the same place as that,’ explained Rook. ‘Perhaps that is something else you might be able to help us understand. Come on, there’s more to see, lots more. At present, this is the safest part of the bar for Beacon Island. Spirits started to return after we cleared Venatori and Guardians from the area. They even have a shop.’

Rook stepped aside to reveal a plaza full of spirits; everything from wisps to entities having taken various mortal forms congregating around stalls and caravans.

‘Extraordinary,’ he managed, pausing beside her, head turning bearly able to take it all in.

‘Are you Rook?’

The voice pulled him from his speechless thoughts to look at the woman in question. She had already began walking towards the Grey Warden hailing her. Rook walked with her back straight, one hand resting over her sword’s pommel. She stood in profile to him, the Fade’s dreamlight accentuating her face in a way the gloom of the Necropolis had not. He had already noted she was beautiful; sharp, defined jaw with high cheekbones. The facial tattoo favoured by the Mourn Watch Reapers only served to highlight the regality of her bearing.

‘How was passage through the Heights?’ She asked the Warden.

‘Nothing we couldn’t handle and worth it for the decreased travel time,’ replied the Warden. ‘But how do we get to Minrathous. These are the supplies Davrin requested via Evka.’

He listened as Rook directed the caravan leader to one of the other mirrors they had just passed.

‘And our contact is Neve Gallus?’

Rook nodded. ‘You’ll likely find her at the Cobbled Swan. And...’ She bowed her head for a moment before meeting the Grey Warden’s eyes. ‘If there is anything you can do for Ashur - please help him.’

The Warden’s expression turned grave as she nodded. The two women shook hands and Rook returned to him and Bellara, her gaze sombre, corners of her lips downturned for the first time since they had met.

‘Do you think they can help him?’ Bellara asked once Rook was back with them.

Rook shrugged. ‘I think it’s more a case of whether he’ll let them help him. Davrin said any cure would be a high price to pay.’ She blew out a sigh before she turned back to Emmrich. A smile fixed in place that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Shall we finish the tour? Then you can best decide how to help us?’

--//-*-\\--

The Lighthouse was a marvel to behold. Once he had seen it on their approach to Beacon Island, Emmrich made his decision that the work required would be best undertaken from within Rook’s base of operation rather than remaining in the Necropolis and using the Eluvian network to reach them. Besides, it had been a long time since he had left the Necropolis and stepping out into the bright light of the outer world had warmed him.

Keeping track of everything worth studying was proving to be difficult. He had ended up dividing his thoughts across multiple journals to keep it all indexed for future reference. His growing curiosity resulted in multiple trips back to the Necropolis with Manfred in tow to gather more books and equipment. It would have been helpful to have additional skeletal servants to assist with moving items from his apartment, office and teaching lab to the Lighthouse but he had swiftly come to the conclusion that Rook’s assembled associates would not be comfortable with such a display.

They had been polite in their introductions but he had not missed the cautious whispers. Necromancy, Rook reminded him one evening when she offered to help with unpacking his books, was viewed with the same fear as blood magic.

‘We’re facing things far worse than the most dangerous Necromancers can conjure,’ she said, sipping a glass of wine as she watched him work perched on his desk. ‘They’ll come around.’

‘They don’t fear you,’ Emmrich remarked, struggling to keep the frustration out of his voice.

‘I think they forget I’m a Necromancer; hex-spells and wardweaves that destroy the undead and banish maligned spirits back to The Fade probably seem like acceptable magic whereas animating corpses and speaking to the dead does not.’ Then her face lit up with an expression of mischievousness that made her look years younger. ‘Besides, I don’t have a skeleton assistant following me around.’

‘They can’t surely be afraid of Manfred?’

Rook laughed at the incredulity in his voice, her lips curving up and eyes bright with amusement. ‘Maker, no,’ she exclaimed. ‘But outside Nevarra, the risen dead is not a good thing.’

‘I shall bear that in mind,’ he replied soberly as she scooted of the desk, setting the goblet aside and looking at the shelf he had been populating.

‘Do you have Ebner’s Index memorised?’ She asked with a curious lilt, referring to the tombscript system used to classify bodies of work by topic.

‘Not as such,’ he said, watching her straighten, eyebrow raised as she raked her fingers through her wavy lilac hair to tuck it behind her ears so it fell down her back. ‘Although, that does remind me,’ he continued when she picked up her goblet again. ‘Myrna sought me out today, some spirits within the Belfry were displaced in the commotion caused by the Venatori and asked if we might be willing to assist in drawing them back to their rightful place.’

Rook took a thoughtful sip of wine. ‘Harding still hasn’t had any luck on the dragon hunter front, so why not?’

‘There may also be stray Venatori within the chambers surrounding the Belfry.’

‘Then it’s a good job we have an expert in killing Venatori on hand.’

--//-*-\\--

‘He might be able to advise, Lucanis, if you just ask.’

Rook’s voice rang out through the library as Emmrich approached from his study. He emerged on the mezzanine to see the Rook and Lucanis across the table from one another. True to her previous decision, Rook had abandoned her leather travel wear for her Mourn Watch issue armour; interwoven chain, metal plate and robes were draped over her willowy frame giving her an ethereal appearance that resembled the Greater Spirits of the Necropolis. It was not a set of armour Emmrich often saw in use around the Necropolis but Rook embraced the appearance.

Across from her, Lucanis paced. Emmrich had detected the spirit residing within him the moment they had met. It cried out from within Lucanis for release, thrashing against the Crow’s mental defences.

‘He’s a Necromancer -‘

‘I’m a Necromancer,’ Rook emphasised harshly.

‘You don’t raise skeleton’s from the dead and turn them into manservants,‘ Lucanis countered.

‘Just because I haven’t got one, doesn’t mean I lack the capacity to make one,’ Rook pointed out.

‘Then why can’t you help me with Spite?’ Lucanis demanded, coming to a halt in his pacing and spinning to look at Rook.

‘Because it requires more than bashing you with a shield,’ replied Rook harshly. ‘Although, you seem to need some sense knocking into you, so perhaps it will be a start.’ She heaved in a frustrated breath before closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘You need to communicate with Spite. Emmrich can help you with that. All I can do is kill you and end you both.’

‘Do not. Kill,’ screeched Spite, lunging forward with Lucanis’s body, stepping up onto the table and jumping down.

Rook dodged the attack, spinning out of reach in a spiralling flow of purple and green fabric, pulling her sword free. ‘Settle down,’ she commanded when she had some distance between them, pointing the jewelled pommel at Lucanis. ‘It is not my intention to kill either of you.’

‘Sorry,’ Lucanis now back in control, ‘he is -‘

‘Getting stronger,’ said Rook, completing the sentence, sheathing her sword with a fluid movement. ‘Speak to Emmrich,’ she finished with an order.

Lucanis opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it, shaking his head while turning on his heel. He took the stairs down to the Vi’Revas while Rook blew out a breath, her shoulders dropping before she looked up. Their eyes met and her lips quirked upwards ina dismal smile for a brief moment.

‘You’ll help him?’ She asked. ‘When he’s ready?’

Emmrich replied with a slow nod.

‘Then we’re ready when you are.’

--//-*-\\--

Rook paused the moment they emerged onto Beacon Island, the singing resonance of the dagger filled the air and Emmrich watched Rook pull a dagger from her belt. She held it up to the light, studying it for a moment. From its colour, Emmrich was able to deduce that a large quantity of Lyrium was used for it and its construction, with a circular pommel was more suited to ritual use than battle. He could detect the vibrations through the eddies of the fade, resonating with something nearby and he followed Rook’s attention to an ornately constructed golden tree that stood in the plaza below. She stowed the blade back in her belt and moved down the steps at a jogging pace. Lucanis followed a moment after, catching up to her while Emmrich moved at a slower pace, scrying the eddies around them as voices seemed to echo over them.

‘So it’s the present we’re hearing,’ she said, reaching out to the tree and touching it.

‘And what if they can hear us?’ Lucanis demanded.

Rook stepped back. ‘I don’t think they can,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ve heard voices from here before and assumed they were echos from the past.’ She put her hands on her hips and looked at the floor. ‘Solas wouldn’t have risked his operations by creating something like this if they could hear us. Wonder how it works?’

‘Bellara and I could take a look at it to see if we can find any indication as to how it might work,’ Emmrich suggested.

‘Yes,’ said Rook. ‘If only to put our minds at rest. Come on.’

She stepped away from the tree and headed towards the pier that took them to the Converged City. The journey was quiet, an uncomfortable silence wrapped around the three companions leaving Emmrich glad when they were able to disembark.

‘So, you’re a Mortalitasi?’

Emmrich turned his gaze on Lucanis. The umber eyes of a dread assassin, a famed mage killer, bore into him. ‘Mortalitasi is a general term,’ he explained, turning a ring on his finger. ‘I belong to the Mourn Watch.’

‘The difference?’ Lucanis enquired mildly.

‘Well, you are a Crow, but I presume not all Crows belong to House Dellamorte,’ replied Emmrich to which Lucanis nodded. ‘The Mourn Watch is an elite circle of Mortalitasi Mages with the ultimate authority over The Grand Necropolis and Funerary Dead, as well as other duties outside the Necropolis.’

‘But you’re still a Necromancer?’ Lucanis pushed.

‘Yes, certainly.’

‘And Rook is a Necromancer, too, but a different type of Necromancer?’

‘Indeed,’ replied Emmrich. ‘Rook is a Reaper, while I am a Spirit Caller. There are a number of specialisations within our ranks.’

The assassin hummed thoughtfully but didn’t continue his questioning as they reached the mirror to the Necropolis. Rook stood before it, hands on hips, gazing intently.

‘They’ve moved it from the Upper Mortuary Halls to The Shrouded Halls,’ Rook announced.

‘Myrna and VORGOTH are leading the efforts to cleanse the chambers we discovered when unchaining the Sunken Star,’ Emmrich explained. ‘I should have mentioned it to you.’

‘At least we don’t have to worry about getting stuck in the lifts,’ she remarked, stepping through into the cool world beyond.

[poetryofyouth]

My thoughts about Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Spoiler free)

After 67.5 hours of playtime, I have finished the fourth Dragon Age game. Overall, I give it a solid 7/10.

I loved

The performance. I have a good gaming laptop, but it is still a laptop. Veilguard runs buttery-smooth, never had any lag or framerate drop or anything. Didn't have any annoying glitches, some very minor graphics bugs two or three times. I know this SHOULD be the bare minimum, but considering it has become the norm to launch games that are basically unplayable because of the number of glitches, this is something to point out!

The overall story, tone and writing. Yes, these were criticised by many people, but I don't think that the dialogue was that clunky, and I certainly did not think that the tone was "not dark enough". Genuinely, people saying the game was too lighthearted and not "dark fantasy" anymore must have played a different game than me.

The look of the environments. Inquisitions landscapes were beautiful, and Veilguard manages to top that in certain areas. Arlathan Forest is absolutely beautiful, and other places you get to explore are horrifyingly, disgustingly vile and haunting and terrifying.

The Character Creator. So many details and so many hairstyles!!! And GOOD, long hairstyles, too!!!

I liked

The Companions. Rook's interactions with the companions is different than in Origins and Inquisition, most similar to DA2. You can't just always come talk to them. But they interact with each other far more than in previous games!! And I am glad there isn't a party banter glitch like in Inquisition - the banter triggers early and often. No hourlong running around in dead silence! And I also liked all the companions as characters, a lot!

The voice acting. Again, I don't really get the complaints so many people seem to have over the voice acting. Really solid imo!

The Combat. I did NOT think I would ever say that. It took a long while to get used to it because I am simply not used to playing action combat games. I only played on Keeper difficulty (2nd easiest), but that was ideal for me to figure everything out. I played a duelist rogue, haven't tried other classes. And I appreciated the uncomplicated respeccing. Especially because I was really intimidated by the complicated look of the skill tree. For rook and the companions, you can respec any skill at any time, so you can play around and try what works best for you.

Exploring. The game is not open-world and I think it was a good choice. But the relatively small areas are packed full with treasures to find. There are little puzzles everywhere. I am a sucker for that kind of stuff. Love puzzles and riddles. Only not putting this under "loved" because it kind of messed with the pacing for me in certain quests. ("Someone's in mortal peril? Sure, hang on, lemme get that treasure chest first")

Certain lore revelations. No spoilers! But we learn some big stuff. I think this was done well for the most part.

I was fine with

The look of the Characters. I was VERY worried about that at first because in general I am not a big fan of the cartoonish artstyle. What was odd is that not all characters seem equally cartoonish? Emmrich seems much more cartoonish than Davril, for example. That is an inconsistency that I found quite annoying. In general, could have been better, could have been worse. I really miss the DA2 look of the Qunari. That Arishok... still thinking about him.

The romance. So I have only romanced Neve, and it was nice. I know other romances are different, they might give you a bit... more. Again, don't want to spoil anything but.... There could have been more.

Cameos/tie-in of established characters. I want to keep this spoiled-free so I won't go into specifics. It was nice meeting some of them again, some of them were.... NOT done right. Yeah I'll reblog this post with a few spoilery thoughts on that. This could have been done a LOT better.

I did not like

Lore inconsitencies. I don't mean major, story-relevant stuff here, just some minor details. It's expected that they will get some stuff wrong but.... ugh. still annoying!!!

The villains are very black-and-white. When I think of Dragon Age Villains, I think of complex characters like Zathrian, Loghain, even the Arishok or Prince Bhelen. Characters you can empathize with, feel sorry for, even side with. The game is very lacking in that kind of complexity.

Lack of impactful, difficult choices. In previous installments, I AGONIZED over so many choices. Harrowmont or Bhelen? Celine or Gaspard? Kill or spare the Architect? Choices I took a long time to think about, choices where the game (and other media) gives you little snippets of information, not enough that you know what the right choice is for sure, but you have a lot to think about and to consider. This does not exist in this game. At all.

Rook can't be evil. I know Rook needs to be the hero. But so did the Warden, Hawke and the Herald. I personally don't like playing the "bad guy". But I like having the choice! If you have the choice to sacrifice Feynriel to the Sloth Demon, it makes the decision to do the right think just so much more meaningful.

And Rook's dialogue options are quite flat, too. The game uses tone indicators like in DA2 and Inquisition, but the tone barely even differs. The joking/sarcastic replies are not that funny (purple Hawke i miss you you will always be famous). The "aggressive" replies are really not that aggressive. Overall, that makes Rook feel quite flat.

I am VERY unhappy with

Okay. Deep breaths. No spoilers. But this game has... issues. For a game that has been in developement for such a long time, there are many aspects that are just unfinished. The Lords of Fortune for example. The entire faction makes barely any sense.

Ignoring most of the worldstate choices... This has been discussed at length before the release, so no need to get into it. But I have always admired Bioware for how they managed to tie in choices from previous games - even if they were just "throwaway oneliners". That was what made the world of Thedas feel real. That's what made Dragon Age special.

The lack of conflict and how slavery in Tevinter is just glossed over. Okay hear me out. I do NOT want more fantasy racism because I think it is cool or whatever. But we're in Tevinter for big parts of the game!! The dreaded empire that everyone in southern Thedas is scared of, where slavery is normal and they do blood magic for fun. All that worldbuilding and the setup is just... basically ignored. The venatori are throwaway enemies just like in inquisition, the politics of Tevinter are almost entirely ignored. And that is, I think, where Veilguard fails to be a proper Dragon Age game. DA was always about mirroring real life conflicts, adressing themes of prejudice, war, racism, homophobia and mental illness directly or through metaphors. Making you think about morality, both your PC's morality and your own as a player and a person. This game... this game doesn't challenge any sort of believes you might have as a person in that way. This is, in my opinion, the biggest failure of the game. The critical look at the real world, through the lense of a dark fantasy game. And if a Dragon Age game is missing that, then it just... misses it's heart and it's soul. Unfortunately, glitches can be fixed but there is no way to patch this.

Final thoughts

Okay, back to a bit more positivity. I enjoyed the game. I really, really had a lot of fun. I screamed, I cried real tears, I felt for the companions and I laughed at the funny moments. Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a good game. Not perfect. And it is perfectly understandable to be critcal of it, unfortunately a lot of criticism gets lost in either "it's too woke" or people who clearly have not played past the first act.

But in general, I think both Dragon Age fans and newcomers will enjoy it and have a good time.

[impala-dreamer]

Hiii! Beka, I need your opinion. Your newest fic got me thinking... How do you think Sam, Dean, and Cas would react if they got stuck in Middle Earth? And what's their gameplan? 💖

- Ramblin' On -

Cas looks around utterly confused by the new landscape, the fresh green hills, and the size of the doors peeking out from each. He scrunchs his nose in confusion and looks to Sam who, standing beside him just spit out of the same wormhole, seems just as confused.

"Where the hell are we?" Sam asks, looking around with an inquisitive yet cautious gaze.

The Angel shrugs as the tails of his Season 9, decidedly-worse trench coat flap in the wind.

With a whoosh, Dean emerges from the rip in space and time, landing haphazardly on the dewy grass. Immediately, he rolls and pops up to his feet, ready for action with fists raised and dirt on his jacket. It takes him but a moment to see what his companions see: a world not their own.

Dean chuckles. "Awesome."

Sam balks. "Is it? We're lost because you couldn't keep your hands out that damned cookie jar!"

With pursed lips and a waging finger, Dean turns to his little brother. "First of all- everybody wants a warm cookie. You can't blame me for that. Secondly- We're not lost." He grins and turns away, casting his eyes over the beautiful new world.

"We're not?" Sam scoffs. "Then where the hell are we?"

Dean pulls in a deep breath of fresh air. "The Shire."

Castiel hums. "The what?"

"The Shire!" Dean says again as excitement runs through his veins. He looks at his brother and angel, neither of whom seem to understand. He sighs. "The Shire! Hobbits, Gandalf... Come on, guys! Lord of The Rings!"

Sam's brow furrows deep. "I know what The Shire is," he snits. "How do you know what The Shire is?"

Annoyed but determined to enjoy their sojourn in Middle Earth, Dean brushes the dust from his sleeve and sets off down the path to the right. "If it's good enough for Zepplin, it's good enough for me!"

[wordsofhoneydew]

fic pride

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

thank you for the tags @anincompletelist and @firenati0n

(no pressure) pressure tags to : @cha-melodius @whimsymanaged @cricketnationrise @alasse9 @sherryvalli @nocoastposts

reading back at my work has only reminded me how proud and happy i am with the fics i have written, and i hope y’all enjoy them just as much as i do!!

+

stolen glances with a string attached

Henry isn’t completely conscious of the fact that he is borderline stalking now, having been captivated by this man’s beauty. Even with the fair amount of distance between their office windows, Henry could still distinguish the prominent shadows cast on his cheeks from his eyelashes, and the sharp line of his jaw clenching every now and then. His skin seemed to glow exquisitely under the morning sun; looking practically magical against the gray of the city landscape.  That’s when the other man notices Henry, catching him in his trance for a split second before Henry turns his head to look down at the keyboard in front of him. That was close , he thinks to himself before slowly turning his head to look back at the window. And to his misfortune, the man is looking right back at him; his eyes squint, his perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrow, and his face is wearing an expression as if to say caught you. And he’s not wrong. Henry’s eyes widen, his body tensing up in sheer humiliation. That’s when he sees a sly smirk make its way to the man’s lips, and it only makes the embarrassment course through his body more rapidly, feeling all the blood rush to his cheeks. The man then spins around in his office chair, reaching for what looks to be a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbles on it for a swift moment before pressing the paper up against his office window. The paper reads, “TAKE A PIC,” written in sloppy, bubble-like handwriting just barely legible enough for Henry to read.  The man grabs another paper and writes for a moment longer, this time reading, “JK” with a winky face. Henry cocks an inquisitive eyebrow in his direction, the embarrassment slowly morphing into curiosity as the man turns the paper over for Henry to read the other side. “ALEX.”

+

your body comes back to me in dreams [nsfw]

He comes back to himself in increments, the places where they’re touching becoming lighter and colder, and his vision softening around the edges. Henry grabs the other man’s shoulder with a vice grip, wanting to laze in the gratification of their love. He surges forward to kiss him again, desperate to feel the warmth of his body, but he feels almost nothing. Henry pulls away resentfully, in search of brown eyes that bear unwavering devotion—but they’re gone, replaced by nothing, and he is faced with the iciness of the man’s absence. 

+

i became your device to name and soothe

June blushes violently and whispers, “It’s not the same when I do it to myself.” The air is eerily silent for a beat, and June hates everything that is coming out of her mouth right now.  Nora’s face goes almost stoic, serious, but the sparkle of interest in her eyes never falters. “Tell me why.” “What?” “Tell me why it isn’t the same.” June stares back at her staggered, at a complete loss of what to say, or how to say it. June has never had to explain the reasoning behind why she likes spanking. Hell, she’s never really thought about it in depth herself. Knowing that it brings her euphoric pleasure is enough acknowledgement for her.  “Well… I guess it has to do with the attention and— uh, being taken care of is part of it, too.” She chews on her lips subconsciously, looking down at her lap. “I see,” Nora trails off, thinking deliberately before saying: “I can help you. Only if you’re comfortable with that of course.” Nora places her hand on June’s knee, it’s a comforting sentiment more than anything, and June realizes that she really does mean to help. Not in the exact way June wishes she would, but she’ll take what she can get at this point. “Okay.” “Really? “I trust you, Nora.” “Yeah, of course. I trust you too.” June tries to swallow down the knot in her throat before speaking again, “It’ll be like, nonsexual, platonic—“ “Like a massage.” Nora’s expression is unreadable, the same face she makes when she’s in the middle of coding a script or calculating how many red bulls her body can tolerate without a wink of sleep in three days. Like a project she’s undoubtedly going to excel at. It makes June squirm in her seat. “I’m not an expert, so you’ll have to give me some… guidance.” God. What has June gotten herself into?

+

What are the chances? [nsfw]

“This what you wanted?” Nora whispers on her navel, kissing and licking up to the sweat that has begun to form between her breasts. The position of Nora’s fingers remain hooked inside of her, massaging repeatedly at her sweet spot, and June is seeing fucking stars. Her chest pushes into Nora’s face, giving her full permission to abuse them with her mouth. Instead Nora pulls back, laying her hand flat on June’s chest to settle her back onto the bed again. She gives a light slap to one of her breasts. “How does it feel? You were so desperate for it earlier, huh, baby? So, tell me how it feels.” June is unable to speak for a moment, her jaw slacked with no sound escaping. Her head is buzzing and her legs are trembling from how much stimulation her body is receiving. “Feels— oh fuck, ” she huffs, “feels so good, Nora. Please, don’t stop.” Nora unties one of her wrists, still maintaining the consistent rhythm of her hand. Once free, June immediately reaches out to touch her face; running her thumb over Nora’s eyebrow, cheekbones and then her lips, feeling how soft and plump they are. Nora takes that as an invitation to kiss June again, this time with a more deliberate, loving touch—she can taste a bit of herself on Nora’s tongue. 

[ambiguousthoughtsinsilence]

Stalker and the need for a purpose

Modern mass culture, aimed at the 'consumer', the civilisation of prosthetics, is crippling people's souls, setting up barriers between man and the crucial questions of his existence, his consciousness of himself as a spiritual being. / A. Tarkovsky, Sculpting in Time

It is rare to encounter a work of film that fundamentally challenges the way a person views an art form  and what it is capable of doing. I first watched Stalker (1979) in the beginning of 2023, and it is probably the film that lingers in my mind the most. It combines the techniques of cinema, such as long shots and visually abstract imagery, with a poetic and often literary script. Stalker does not lend itself to simple, straightforward interpretations and explanations, rather it invites the viewer inside its own calm, meditative universe to explore the ideas of science, art, purpose, faith and desire.

By drawing from a rich spiritual foundation and Tarkovsky’s own outlook, it manages to move into the territory of a transcendent work of art, as the film evolves.  Yet it’s not explicitly religious or faith focused, making it a more compelling experience, unlike Andrei Rublev (1966), which is explicitly Christian in its nature. Whereas Stalker explores ideas of faith in the frame of a science-fiction film, making the nature of the film more inquisitive and reflective, and thus more compelling.  I have since watched the film two more times, each time with a growing admiration for it and its three main characters.  Through its beautiful script, the film has created a whole new adoration for faith as a driving force behind creating art.

The film is loosely based on a short novel Roadside Picnic by the Strugatsky brothers. The film  takes the key idea of the Zone from the novel - a mystical and strange place brought into existence by aliens - and the idea of stalkers, people who explore and guide others through this forbidden place, often at a cost to themselves. The book contains several journeys into the area and multiple characters, whereas the film only has the Stalker, his daughter and wife, and the Writer and the Scientist. In the film the destination is a room, in the book it is an object called the Golden Sphere.  By going into the Room, one is meant to have their innermost wishes fulfilled. Stalker serves as an excellent example of taking the key elements of a story, stripping away the unnecessary and creating something new in a different art form. 

The film starts with a sequence at the Stalker’s home, with his wife begging him not to go, however he goes anyway, leaving his family behind. He meets the Writer and the Scientist and after getting past the security measures, there is an extensive and hypnotizing long shot of them being on a railway cart, moving from the sepia coloured ordinary world into the vividly green and natural landscape of the Zone. It is a film that is almost three hours long, yet is composed of only 142 shots. Through utilising the function of the long shot,the camerawork makes the viewer immersed in the imagery by making the viewer focus and pay attention. Geoff Dyer has called the sequence of the film’s three main characters going into the Zone  ‘the greatest sequence in film history’. The sound design changes as the cart approaches the Zone and after a period of looking at the characters’ heads and hearing the clanking sounds of the trolley, the viewer, along with the three main characters, enters the Zone. 

  The Zone is lush and quiet, it’s a living landscape, containing hidden dangers that only the Stalker is capable of guiding people through. Throughout the film these dangers never truly materialize, they are only spoken about. This leads to many interpretations of what the Zone is meant to represent, with interpretations ranging from a post-nuclear fallout zone to life itself. 

I do not consider myself as a person of faith and have always avoided the label of spirituality, as I have often perceived it as oppositional to ideas of rationality. However in Stalker  spirituality and faith are presented in an almost spellbinding way, as a desire to resolve the tension between the human spirit / soul and the world that values the material and provable.  The dialogue between the Writer and the Scientist  is often confrontational and combative, each trying to prove their superiority to the other. However, in contrast to them, there is the Stalker’s character. He goes out and accompanies people in the Zone as that is the way he defines his purpose. Towards the end of the film, he gets accused of doing these incursions into the zone for selfish purposes by the Writer and the Stalker responds by saying : 

“Yes, you’re right, I’m a nit, I haven’t done anything in this world and I cannot do anything... And neither could I give anything to my wife! And I do not have any friends and I cannot have, but you cannot take what’s mine from me! Everything is already taken from me, there, on the other side of the barbed wire. All I have is here. Can you understand! Here! In the Zone! My happiness, my freedom, my dignity – everything’s here! For I lead the same as me in here, unhappy ones, suffering. They... They have no other hope left! And I – I am able to! Can you understand – I am able to help them! Nobody else can help them, but I, nit (shouts), I, nit, am able to! I am ready to shed tears of happiness that I am able to help them. That’s all! And I want nothing else.”

Tarkovsky once explained that for him the Stalker embodied the kind of character that he most wanted to be like out of the three men. He was someone the world saw as too weak, yet he was actually the strongest out of the three. He has a sense of faith, of purpose, one that is independent from the pressures of the modern world. He defines himself through his ability to provide hope to others, a life in the service of trying to lessen the suffering of other people.  And the purity of this portrayal of a life of devotion and clear purpose has stuck with me since I first saw the film. The Stalker is a poor man,living in bleak circumstances, yet, as he exclaims above, the Zone provides him with a space, where his mission is clear and he can help others. Upon returning home, he despairs that the people have lost their faith:

“ [..] nobody believes. Not only those two. Nobody! Whom should I lead in there? Oh, God... And the most terrifying thing is ... that nobody needs it anymore. And nobody needs that Room. And all my efforts are worthless!”

Stalker is a character, who embodies a childlike belief in the good and the possibility of humans to experience it. However, his despair comes from the fact that the commitment to the material, to ideas of success and glory (the Writer) and the purely rational (the Scientist) have led to the loss of belief, the idea that something more meaningful is possible, this breaks his heart, because, if that is the case, then what place does the world have for someone, whose reason for existing is to give others their ability to believe?

The film does not offer a neat answer to this question, it ends on an ambiguous and supernatural note, but having seen it three times, I cannot help but explore questions of faith, belief and meaning within myself a lot more and through that Tarkovsky has definitely achieved his stated purpose - to create a work of art that serves a higher spiritual purpose.

[an-established-butt-dent]

To sleep, to dream, to forget

AO3

Author: DazeChroma (that is me)

Cover art: an-established-butt-dent (also me)

Fandom: Dragon Age, Pairing: Solas x Lavellan, Words: 4,841, Tags: Post Trespasser, Angst, Lavellan deals with the emotional aftermath.

Notes: see end for notes!

There are a million ways to say goodbye, but they have yet to learn of a way that is final. After the Crossroads, Allana leaves everything behind and travels. She is alone, but for a wolf that keeps visiting her dreams.

To sleep, to dream, to forget

Lavellan knew the wolf haunting her dreams.

Perhaps she should fear the shadow lurking on the edge of her peripheral vision, but this was the Fade and she was in control of her dreams. She wore an enchanted amulet, beautiful, with the added benefit of preventing others from intruding on her dreamscape. A parting gift from Dorian.

Even one as skilled and powerful as the Dreadwolf would not be able to reach her, unless she let him.

But that was precisely it. She would never admit it out loud, but somehow had yet to force his presence away. To banish him from her subconscious. Instead, she had left a window open at a crack. 

Maybe it was confusion after their confrontation in the Crossroads. Maybe it was her anger, demanding more explanations from him.

Maybe she missed him.

Solas.

Mentally she scolded herself. She shouldn't use that name. The quiet apostate she had come to know, come to love, was not the same man planning the downfall of the world. Her heart was broken and Solas was dead, as much as he could be for having never truly existed.

But the Dreadwolf, Fen'harel, lived.

Ancient trickster god indeed.

Sometimes she tried to think of the elf from her memories as someone different altogether. A quiet mage lost in dreams who perhaps had planned to return to her. To explain why he left without goodbye after Corypheus' defeat. To bring reason to the many questions left unanswered and wounds left unmended. 

The Solas in this imagined life might have helped her shed the Inquisitor’s cloak. Might have held her in comfort throughout the emotional aftermath. 

Somehow it made the feeling of betrayal slightly easier to bear.

'-What we had was real'

The words left a bitter taste in her mouth still. 

Perhaps it had all been real to him. But to her it was an illusion.  

The wolf in sheeps’ clothing had not been the lover in her arms. The Dread Wolf had not been her companion, her advisor, mentor, friend, Vhenan- 

Denial was not a good look on her, but it gave her peace and quiet. 

And this chasm in her chest, this aching void pumping blood through numb limbs… It propelled her  forward. Yet, she felt devoid of the passion and perseverance that moved her before. 

Well.

You can't break what's already broken. Can't lose what you don't have.

-

After the Inquisition disbanded, she had felt lost. Alone.

She needed time to process everything: the loss of her arm, the long years fighting to end Corypheus and then building the world back up again only to be followed by the upheaval of the exalted council, the pain in her chest. Again there was a moment where the world spun on its axis, throwing everything she knew off-balance. Again.

She had come undone, the only thing keeping her together was the feeling of Revas’ long strides over the open plains. 

Only a Dalish would pick that name for a hart, but he earned his name, spirited and wild as he was before he accepted Allana as his rider. He was her only companion.

Her eyes scanned the horizon, but there was no silhouette following her. No shadow in the waking world.

She stayed clear of civilization, only stopping for provisions. She kept to herself, used her voice so little she almost forgot what it sounded like. 

She traveled for weeks like this, a strong pace forward. Needing to get away. Always away. Every moment spent in one place too long and her chest would constrict, a panic building that could only be relieved by the comfort of changing landscapes.

'You lied to me!'

She wanted to escape. To forget. 

She wanted to be wild like her hart. Wanted to be free.

Revas: her freedom.

Revas, revas, revas!

-

She drifted weightlessly through the fade. Time seemed to stand still as she floated through the pleasant warmth of her early memories.

No terror haunted her. No fear demon pulled threads of horrible memories across her vision. Nothing clawed at her. She was safe.

Only one shadow she could not shake. 

She could admit it, now. When the storms of her doubts and fears had quieted down, and she was not drowning, on the brink of being pulled under-

No.

Not now.

She breathed in, and out. At peace, you're safe, she told herself.

The storm calmed down.

He never truly showed himself at first. But she expected him to know that she could sense him.

It had been him, chasing the despair demons away in the nights before she had Dorian’s amulet. She had seen the flash of teeth and six red eyes prowling on the edge of her peripheral vision. Hungry, angry, but not for her. A lonely howl, a loud screech and a wolf had dragged the dark shadows away until she was alone once again.

The terror had melted away with the echo of the wolf's cry.

Curious spirits were discouraged from approaching her afterwards, and she could finally breathe with relief, knowing to expect a night of rest without waking in cold sweat from nightmares.

She scoffed, wondering what keeper Deshanna would say if she knew the presence of the Dreadwolf gave her some measure of comfort.

She would probably call upon all the ancient gods for guidance. To protect her lonely runaway Da'len from the Dreadwolf’s treachery.

But he has your scent.

And you have his heart.

-

She was almost at the coast now, where she would book passage for a ship to Starkhaven. She planned to cross the waking sea at Jader and travel to Antiva after a short stop in Kirkwall. Other than that she hadn’t decided on her plans for the future.

She had set up camp at a clearing near an old ruin. Then, she took her time to make dinner, enjoying her quiet surroundings and knowing this might be her last night sleeping peacefully under the stars for the coming week.

Revas would surely not be happy on a ship.

She looked regretfully at her hart, wishing there was another way to cross safely, without needing a ship or an Eluvian.

As she only had access to one of those options, her choice was made swiftly.

She climbed into her sleeping roll, twisting and turning until she lay comfortably on her side. Listening to her hart grazing nearby, she drifted off to sleep.

-

He had become bolder after she started wearing the amulet. 

Perhaps he wondered how she had found peace in her dreams? Perhaps her aura, pleasantly free of fear and despair, had pulled him in?

Could he sense the enchantment? Could he see she now had more control over the Fade? 

He had tried to teach her many times, but never had she managed this level of lucidity.

Did he observe curiously what strings she pulled, and which memories she traversed?

She always made sure not to dive into memories of their time as lovers. Those memories were locked away deeply, only to be revealed during waking moments of weakness where she allowed herself the time to wallow in her misery.

A slight change in the air alerted her to his presence.

Soundlessly, a shadow big as a hill moved over the horizon until she made out the shape of four clawed paws slowly treading over the grass-covered plane.

He held his head close to the ground, curiously following the invisible line of energy that lingered in her wake. Tracing her scent which was as recognizable and personal as a fingerprint in the land of dreams. Wisps of black smoke trailed his fur, distorting the landscape.

Sensing her, he slowly lifted his massive head as six red glowing eyes fixed themselves on her.

His name was on the tip of her tongue. She quickly swallowed it down, her throat suddenly dry. This was the first time he didn’t disappear as soon as they made eye contact. She was rooted on the spot, not moving an inch, afraid that any change would break the spell. The sudden wave of longing that washed over her came as a surprise. The sharp ache that quickly followed didn’t. 

Then there was anger.

He took one more step towards her and tilted his head to the side, giving the impression of being unsure if he was looking at threat or prey.

Hoping she was neither, she stood still. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, uncomfortably aware of the tension building in the air. It was like the climate changed and became hotter, the air sticky and suffocating, shaped by the emotions of her inner turmoil.

He took a step toward her, and then she felt the Fade shift.

It was her own doing.

Suddenly she was alone again, overlooking the same mountains where Skyhold stood proudly in the distance. Her home.

She felt relieved that she could breathe again. The air was lighter, the sky brighter, although everything in the fade had a disorienting, ghostlike quality to it. Colors were more intense and subdued at the same time, clouded by a mist you could see only when you focused on it intensely.

Her racing pulse calmed down as she kept her attention on the familiar mountains. Two falcons slowly circled the sky, its colors giving the impression of a setting sun.

‘He is only a stranger. A stranger you once knew’, she told herself over and over.

Yet, he did not scare her. At least not for the reasons one should be afraid of a massive ghostly wolf-shadow trailing their subconscious.

Perhaps she should have confided in Lelliana, Cullen or Josephine about his presence in her dreams. But the Inquisition was no more, so sharing these developments felt... too personal, too intimate. She didn't want to think about it. Nor, for that matter, did she want anyone else to.

The Dreadwolf has your scent.

Why was he still keeping his tabs on her, even after their goodbyes? 

'I will never forget you.' 

No of course not, idiot, if he kept following her like this! 

She could feel her anger shaping the Fade around her, the soft, wispy clouds and sharp mountain peaks crumbling. She was taken to a place darker. Deep down, deep roads, stone, damp air, echoes of fighting. A darkspawns’ screech bounced around on the slick walls of the chasm. Still far in the distance but growing louder with each panicked breath she took. The high pitch surrounded her. Darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The screams of the dead in her memories ringing like white noise in her ear, drowning out her thoughts except; ’Can’t breath!’.

Panicked, she started to run.

Feet thump, thump, thumping on the slippery stones. The echoes grew louder, a horde of demon’s awakened by the steady rhythm of her long strides. She was a hunter being hunted. The echoes of the past not brought forth by demon’s of anger or fear, but by her own traumatized subconscious. Looking for a way out.

Abruptly she skipped to a halt. Reaching for the amulet. 

There were no demons. They can’t reach her. 

All of a sudden she could hear a voice breaking through the clouds of her panic.

“Allana, breathe like we practiced, you are in control.” a strange voice resonated from the walls, seeming to come from all sides at once and yet far away. A voice she could recognize everywhere.

The revelation shocked her, but grounded her mind. The demons were drawing near. Memories, which could do no more physical harm unless she let them. Remembering what part would come next she needed to end it here. Right now.

She closed her eyes, taking a breath. 

In through the nose-

-one, two, three, four. 

Hold for five seconds, let go for six.

She opened her eyes and was again back looking at the sharp outlines of the Frostback Mountains.

The image shifted and the air smelled of spring. Warmth.

Soft winds blowing across open planes. A body of water flowing like a silver snake across the landscape, casting crystallized reflections on billowing trees. A group white halla taking off, startled by her sudden appearance. She watched them for a moment as they darted across the grass in a dance; a playful homage to freedom. They slowly disappeared along the soft edges of her dream, carrying memories of her life with the Dalish. Of an old home, and a life before the world was ending.

Safe.

On the horizon she could just see the tilt of the head of a wolf, watching from afar. Waiting.

She remembered the voice.

She could not suppress the shiver running along her spine. She wondered what would happen if she called out to him. 

She never did.

-

She missed her friends. 

Somehow her shadow in the Fade made her feel more lonesome. 

It almost became a routine. Push and pull. Following and being followed. It was like a game. She realized with some humor the parallel between their dynamic during the early inquisition years and now. Some things never change.

She would like to talk about her confusing feelings with someone that would understand. But who would? Who could sympathize with a woman, the herald, falling for the affections of the enemy in disguise?

When would she be strong enough to break the chains of their entanglement?

Did she not deserve some peace and quiet? To find out who she was without the responsibilities and expectations resting on her shoulders? 

But her work was not over.

She had considered stepping away, and letting things unfold without interfering. But she couldn’t. Tired as she was, she didn't know how not to be Inquisitor Lavellan. 

All she needed now was a plan. 

How to stop your ex-lover from destroying the world? Your ex-lover, who was, by the way, also an ancient Elvhen God and probably the most powerful Mage to walk the planet?

That did not sound impossible at all.

Damn, she really just kept handing out new book ideas to Varric, didn't she? 

-

Whenever the desire to reach out came up, she swallowed it down.

She didn’t want comforting words from her friends, nor their pitied looks and gentle skirting around certain subjects. 

'Are you sure you're alright? If you need anyone to talk to...'

After the Exalted Council she had turned down all invitations to her friends’ new lives for the time being. She promised to visit once she was ready, and that was enough for them to accept her evasion. For now.

Except Dorian was not having any of it.

He had cornered her the day before she was scheduled to leave. She hadn't wanted a goodbye but he had convinced her he was planning no such thing. 

"Only a present for my dearest friend. Looking as glum as you do I would almost fear sadness is contagious," he had said with a pout.

She had fixed him with a glare, but there had been no true malice behind it. Dorian was perhaps the only one not treating her as if she was made from glass. She appreciated that about him.

"You know a present is not going to convince me to join you in Tevinter, darling dearest," she patted his cheek patronizingly, batting her eyelashes for extra effect.

"Of course not! I wouldn't dare to manipulate you with something so banal as a gift. Who do you think I am? I would at least try to seduce you with my good looks first." He gave her an exaggerated wink and she couldn't stop something that almost resembled an honest smile. She raised her eyebrows at his flirtations. He was laying it on a little bit thick, even for Dorian's standards.

Perhaps humor was the only thing guarding the show of real concern from his face.

"Without further ado, then. Come on, hands out." 

He revealed a small package wrapped in cloth and tied closed with a string of leather.

She hesitantly held out her hand as Dorian sandwiched it between his own, the package a comforting shape in the palm of her hand.

She stared at their joined hands for a moment, swallowing whatever words she would have used to deflect his show of care.

He squeezed her hand once and let go.

"It's not going to unwrap itself, Allana."

She sighed, glad that his sarcasm broke through the tender moment. He knew she appreciated his friendship. She is also aware he's worried about her, like they all are. She was just bad at accepting any kind of support, afraid that leveling the slightest bit of weight from her shoulders would cause it all to come crashing down, burying her fully. 

She needed to be Inquisitor for only one day longer, to keep up the pretense of strength and composure. She could deal with whatever might come crashing down after she left. But not now. Not yet.

"Yes, yes," she huffed at his impatience. Maker, give a girl a moment to compose herself!

She unwrapped the bundle and found an amulet, the telltale pulse of enchantment around it. She looked up at him, waiting for the explanation that would no doubt come.

"This will give us an opportunity to communicate directly, no matter how far away you are. I know you will be miserable without my voice pestering you over the coming months," He pulled out a similar-looking amulet from under his collar and tucked it back, giving her a gentle smile. 

She blinked at the wetness threatening to spill over.

He grasped her shoulders and gently pulled her into a hug. She was glad for the excuse to avert her eyes.

Dorian never mentioned her not-so-subtle lack of grip on her emotions. He knew when she needed the space.

He continued, "It also helps you block out unwanted attention in the fade. No terror demons will find you when you sleep at night and no other spirit will be able to communicate if you don't wish for it. It keeps you bound to your own head, in a sense." She was not sure how Dorian knew about the kind of attention she’s received in the fade, but she’s touched nonetheless. 

"Thank you, Dorian," Ellana mumbles into the fabric of his tunic. "Don't expect me to talk every day though."

"No need, darling. It just makes me happy to know you ignoring me is a conscious choice, and doesn’t mean you are lying in a ditch somewhere."

She snorts, a very undignified sound. "After all I've been through, that ditch doesn't know what's coming for them."

"As long as that fighter spirit never leaves you, my friend," She chuckles wordlessly into his shoulder. She doesn't feel much like a fighter at the moment, although her rogue skills are a second instinct. 

She is tired. But she’s looking for something more comfortable than a ditch just yet.

"Thank you, Dorian."

"Don't get all emotional on me, darling."

She will miss him, but she has to go.

-

The nightmares that had plagued her for weeks vanished after she started to wear the amulet. It was truly Dorian to know the source of the bags under her eyes without her needing to say a word. 

'Bad night?' was all he had to ask, and the look she gave him was enough to know.

Years ago, about a month after he had joined the Inquisition, it had only taken one evening of getting drunk together in a cozy corner of the library to share all the secrets that haunted them at night. While the candles burned low, she learned how their experience of the future at Redcliffe had left a deep impression on them both. The red, terrible future of Corypheus’ would-be victory. Thankfully it was not a future she would have to experience again. That was at least one thing she got right.

He was her closest friend after that evening, their shared pain forming a bond like no other. Ha! Who would have thought. A Tevinter Magister and a Dalish elf? Well, she was never fond of living an ordinary life anyway. It takes one to know one.

The only thing haunting her now was a nightmare of her own creation. Made of pain, self loathing and longing, twisting uncomfortably in the hollow of her chest.

That is one thing the amulet will not help her with: the ghost of a broken heart.

She had yet to find a way to live with it, but time heals all wounds. Or so they say.

But then, why, after revealing his plans, did he tell her that he would like to be proven wrong once again? Why taunt her into resuming their game of evade and catch?

Except if you're called Fen'Harel. Too pridefull to accept your failure, somehow incapable of letting go of your evil plans to restore the glory of the ancient Elvhes and simultaneously doom the lives of all other living beings and the world as we know it.

Damn it all and damn his insufferable pride.

For someone refusing to call himself a god, he sure does like to play with the faiths of mortals.

And why did she believe the sincerity in his eyes when he said it? The pain in the tilt of his brow and the clench of his jaw, the way his voice broke when he said goodbye?

He had called her Vhenan, and walked away. Did she imagine the tremble in his hands, just before he stepped through the Eluvian?

Why had he kept himself hidden from her, lied to her, for years?

What makes a cause worth it, if you have to destroy so much on the way?

Why, Solas?

No, not Solas. Not anymore.

Fen'Harel.

-

She is going after him.

There must be a reason he can’t let her go. If he haunts her dreams, does that mean he still thinks of her when he’s awake?  It must mean that there is something still there, pulling her to him. Perhaps only a side effect of the magic from the anchor, but could it be something more?

He said once things were easier for him in the fade. All she knows right now is that he tried to reach out to her in a dream before she boarded the ship.

He even spoke her name when she got lost in a nightmare. He helped her escape her darkest thoughts. Why?

But was it really him in the dreams? Was this wolf form his true identity? Why doesn’t he show the face that she had come to know? Are the greys of his eyes even his true color? Or are they red and multiplied by three? 

In the dream she stepped away out of fear and that fear fuelled her subconscious mind. Afraid of confrontation. Scared to find a fresh tear in her threadbare composure, with the wounds still raw from his betrayal and abandonment.

To fall apart before him while she had slowly tried to mend the pieces back together, that was not something she was ready for.

She wasn’t strong enough.

How much has he kept hidden from her and how much of what he shared had been real?

Ugh, now there’s a terrifying thought.

Is it possible that he can be at more places at the same time. Dreaming while awake?

Being an immensely powerful immortal mage and all, she really has no exact idea of the extent of his power.

She looked out over the open expanse of the sea. Rippling waves and cutting winds shaping the world around her like a smudged painting of greys and muted pthalo greens. The salt had chapped her lips, and the strands of hair that had escaped her braid whip her face and wipe at her tears like feathered fingers.

She hadn't seen him in her dreams for the last three days, since setting sail on the open ocean. What did it mean? Did he ignore her perhaps?  Were there not enough spirits to whisper of her location? 

She was not going to admit to missing her grey shadow welcoming her to sleep for the last couple of months. 

Somehow being by herself for a few days, truly by herself, made it easier to recover her focus. She was not going to run away anymore. She could not abandon the world she once vowed to save. 

She made him doubt his perspective once before. She can do it again.

Right?

She is Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan, first of her clan. She has been many things in her short life; Herald, Dalish, knife-ear, a beacon of hope. Lover, friend, enemy. An anchor to the world behind the veil. 

She had united nations and destroyed treacherous plots. She had traveled through time and back again. She had fought nightmares, ancient darkspawn, dragons and demons. She has walked physically through the Fade, damn it!

She had fallen in love with a god. Had been betrayed by her lover. He saved her life and then took her arm.

She had promised she would not give up on him. He had said he would never forget her.

None of those experiences managed to destroy her, although they came close a few times. None of those titles made her forget who she was and what she believed in, and they will not be her undoing now. 

She was Elana Lavellan. They say heroes are not destined for a long life, but could she linger long enough to beat the Dreadwolf at his own game?

Did she even have a chance? Or would she end up petrified, a grey and decaying sculpture in the garden of his pride? Would they sing songs of the Dreadwolf’s lover? Would they say that if you listen closely to her chest you can still hear the beating of his heart?

The only reason she was still alive is because he willed it. 

That didn’t really sound like the equal and emancipated relationship she envisioned when she dreamed of the future long ago, now does it?

But the look in his eyes. The pain she glimpsed when he left her in crestwood. And then, the times where his body betrayed what the heart wanted. He had tried to hide it, but there was no doubt in her mind that he had desired her. The desperation in his kiss on the balcony at Skyhold. 'Ar lath ma', whispered like a confession, 'vhenan' a prayer on his lips. And then in the crossroads the gentleness in the movement of gold-plated fingers, grazing her ear and softening the pulsating pain of the anchor ripping her apart. His lips pressing to hers like it was the sweetest honeyed lie he told her yet. Like it wasn’t a goodbye. 

She is going to chase that last sliver of hope. It is all she has.

She must create a thread, to pull him from his web of plotting and lies. There must be some way to keep his focus on the value of this world. To show him it was worth saving. An anchor of some kind.

The journey at sea would take one more day at most. The best course of action would be to visit the alienage of Kirkwall. She had heard of the elves leaving the city, answering a call. She must be able to uncover one of his agent’s to dig for more information. Could she disguise herself? Without her arm she would always stand out like a sore thumb. Everybody knew the stories of the knife eared Inquisitor and her stolen arm. The Dreadwolf’s agent must know of her importance in the game. Knowing that she had been close to their leader once, she could turn out to be a potential weakness.

Okay, so first she would find a smith and fabricate herself an arm substitute. Oh how she missed Dagna. The dwarven woman must have had a million ideas for hidden daggers in a fake arm! She could meet with Varric in secret, and use his contacts in the city. She hadn’t planned to stay in Kirkwall for more than a day, but she’s sure her friend wouldn’t mind the surprise. He shouldn’t have given her the city's key if he hadn’t anticipated her showing up unannounced.

Okay, step one, disguise her arm. Step two, disguise her identity. Step tree: find more information.

What is Fen’Harel gathering the Elves for? Promises of a better world? Are they joining of their free will or is it some kind of death cult compulsion? No he wouldn't go that far… or would he? She has to find out. The more gaps in her knowledge about him, the wilder her imagination is going to get.

The ocean calms her mind. The harsh winds wipe away the doubt and leave her mind clear and focused.

She has a purpose, a plan. 

On the horizon she can slowly spot the soft outlines of Starkhaven forming in the distance. They are nearing land.

The wolf hunts alone, but she is lonely too.

And she is coming for him.

------------------

Notes:

My second try at writing a Solavellan piece, but the first one I ever uploaded on AO3! Hope you liked it. :)

Big thanks to my sister @colorandvigor for being my beta and having an amazing grasp of gramar. Note, english is not my first language.

x

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, time winds back to explore Trevelyan's trip to the Dales.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,176. Rating: all audiences.)

Chapter 37: Red Lyrium

Only by seeing red lyrium could one truly comprehend its evil. Only by feeling it.

It had been all well and good, playing in a workshop with a tiny sample—but what stood before Trevelyan in the Dales was no tiny sample. A malignant claw of crystallised depravity rose out of the ground, thrumming with sickening energy.

Many more surrounded it.

The beautiful, mossy landscape of this forest had been warped by their wicked influence. The ancient cliffside they’d broken through had been torn asunder. Gaping red wounds splintered through its facade; a death by a thousand cuts.

No birds sang in the nearby trees; wind rushed through canopy leaves unaccompanied. Even the animals knew.

It almost made Trevelyan sick to her stomach, the mere sight of it. Perhaps it was the crawling feeling, that it sent skittering across her skin. Regardless, she kept her strength, and kept her eyes upon it.

“It’s almost like it’s infected,” she muttered to Dagna, who prepared their device. “All red and angry, like an inflammation.”

“Huh.” Dagna rose up, and stared at it herself. “I kind of think it looks like my dad.”

“Your dad?”

“Yep! That’s the colour his face went when I told him I wanted to go to the surface and study magic.”

Trevelyan managed a smile, but her attention remained upon the crimson mass before her. A halo of lightheadedness crept around the fringes of her mind. They were stood further from it they had ever been the Inquisition’s sample—and yet, it still had effect.

“Are you nearly ready?” asked one of their guard, approaching.

Dagna completed one final check of the device, and nodded. “I’ll load it onto the cart.”

Not the cart they had travelled in, but a smaller version—just about big enough to carry the device. Of course, they could not haul it anywhere close to the red lyrium themselves: should it work as intended, the carrier would be sacrificed with it.

But Trevelyan had rather insisted against Dagna’s strategy of throwing it, this time. Instead, a rope was attached to the little cart, and the device secured inside.

“Prepare the barrier,” she told Trevelyan, whose responsibility now came into play.

Again, Trevelyan had insisted: she would not, this time, be taken off-guard by an explosion. Dagna was to wait until a barrier was conjured around the red lyrium, and made stable.

“Do you need me to fetch your staff?” asked the guard.

Trevelyan shook her head. “I don’t have one.”

“D’you need one?”

“I’ll be all right. It’s… a simple enough spell.”

“Very well.” The guard crossed an arm over his chest. “We’ll see to it that the perimeter is secure.”

He marched to where the other guards waited, well clear of the red lyrium. They formed a sort of semi-circle around the area, surveying the woodland for movement; for disturbance. Nothing stirred.

All was in place. Trevelyan reached for the Fade—yet, strangely, it was not far. Its energy rushed up to greet her, and suffused her with its might. Plenty and enough. ‘A simple spell’, she’d called it—words she would soon regret.

No staff nor focus was already a disadvantage; but as she tried to alter the world around this burning crystal, form the Fade into an impermeable barrier—the world refused. Someone, something, pushed back.

Trevelyan tensed her body, eyes narrowing upon the red lyrium. It was like trying to lift a boulder; like trying to topple a solid brick wall. The harder she tried, the greater the resistance.

A drum, distant and echoing, entered her mind. It was the dull, rhythmic sound of a mother’s heartbeat, heard from within her womb. Red. Crimson red.

Trevelyan released, breathing heavy.

“Are you okay?” asked Dagna.

Trevelyan wiped the sweat that had accumulated on her brow. “It doesn’t like it,” was all she could say.

“I have more length on the rope—let’s take a step back,” Dagna suggested.

Trevelyan agreed. They gave it a few more feet, and gave the signal to their guard.

“The cleansing rune isn’t helping?” Dagna asked as she prepared, referring to the one she’d ensured that they carry. Just in case.

Trevelyan shook her head. Apparently not. It mattered little.

Time to try again.

She summoned her strength, and in turn, the strength of the Fade. As she bade it form up, form it did. Crackling, struggling—but forming. Green forcefields rose to imprison the lyrium node—yet strained, under the same weight Trevelyan faced.

It had taken a little longer, this time, for the pressure to sink down upon her skull. But as she grew her barrier skyward, that opposing force threatened to pull it back down.

A distant hum droned somewhere in the back of her mind.

“Go,” she told Dagna, everything she had being driven into maintaining that field. The hum continued.

Dagna did not hesitate—she launched the cart away from them, its wheels screaming towards the red lyrium vein. “Firing!” she yelled.

Trevelyan held fast, braced for what was to come—

A second passed. It didn’t come. The hum got louder.

That second turned to seconds, to more, and more, and more. They stared at that little cart, sat idly where it had stopped, right by the red lyrium vein. Guards glanced back, to see why it was so silent.

Through all of her strain, Trevelyan had no answer. Be quiet.

“Good thing we attached that rope!” Dagna joked, quickly reeling the cart back in.

It trundled hurriedly towards them, skipping and bumping over every mound of moss and shard of rock, wheels whistling cheerily as they turned.

The moment it was through Trevelyan’s barrier, she dropped it. Air rushed into her lungs as if she’d not breathed. Sweating, shaking. Hunger, ravenous hunger.

It quickly subsided, thank the Maker. Dagna placed a hand upon her arm.

“You okay?”

“I didn’t expect it to be this strong,” muttered Trevelyan.

Dagna nodded. “I didn’t either—but I did prepare, just in case. I think the anti-magic that’s affecting you is affecting the enchantment. We can try the other devices; see if their increased amplification works.”

The words washed over Trevelyan. “It’s so strange—the Veil feels thinner, but the magic is harder.”

Dagna shrugged, but retained a cheery smile. “Weird, isn’t it? But we’re doing our best!”

The secondary device was brought, and exchanged for the first. Dagna loaded the cart once more, prepared its cargo, took hold of the rope. Trevelyan’s turn.

One might have thought—perhaps even hoped—that the barrier was easier to conjure the second time. That with practice, it would become as simple as any other barrier.

But as Trevelyan began to cast, that hope was quickly dashed. The whispers, the humming, the weight, and the heat—they all found her again. Slowly, trickling, one by one. The resistance was the the same, the effort just as agonising.

Yet, the barrier formed.

“Go.”

Deja vu, as Dagna sent the cart hurtling forward. It skittered over the ground, shot through the barrier—and came to rest at the foot of the node.

Nothing.

The cart was retrieved, the barrier dropped. A rest, taken gladly, as the third and final device was brought.

“This is the strongest we’ve got,” said Dagna. Trevelyan already knew that, but the statement was said almost as an affirmation. This one, this time.

No.

Trevelyan dropped her barrier without even waiting for the device to be retrieved. Dagna, panicked, rushed to pull it back in. But Trevelyan, breathing heavy, told her:

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not going to explode.”

Dagna thought for a moment, staring at their creation, the useless thing it was. “Maybe if we try a smaller node?” she suggested. “You take a rest. I’ll find a different one.”

Trevelyan sank to the ground, and watched Dagna walk away. Her eyes cast back to the red lyrium vein. She already knew how this was going to end.

***

Unaccompanied trees remained unaccompanied. Rustling, no birdsong. Rustling, no explosions.

Night had fallen; they’d returned to camp. Tents, erected far from the veins, sat within a clearing, encircling a bonfire that was currently being lit. Bedtime soon; travel back at dawn—they hadn’t the approval to extend their journey.

Not that it would’ve helped. Amplification hadn’t worked. Smaller nodes hadn’t worked. It had to be something wrong with the enchantment itself.

It had to be her own fault.

Trevelyan sat at the edge of camp, staring off into the darkened brush, listening to the trickling of a nearby river. If she closed her eyes, all she could see were runes. Endless runes. Which had been wrong? What had she missed?

“Your Ladyship?” came a call.

She turned, to see their guards all huddled around the bonfire, one ineffectively striking a flint, another looking to her.

“Could you set a fire for us?” asked the woman. “Westie’s no use!”

“It’s wet!” the other guard, ‘Westie’, complained. “I didn’t bloody get it wet, did I?”

If only to cease their bickering, Trevelyan rose. She trudged towards the fire, and waved a hand in its general direction. Flames lit immediately, warm enough for the whole camp, and smokeless for the secrecy.

The guards thanked her, though one more begrudgingly than the others. Trevelyan barely paid attention. Her usefulness exhausted, she sighed, and stepped away.

“At least that worked,” she muttered under her breath, turning back to find her solitary spot.

But when she looked, she found it occupied. Dagna stood in her path.

She raised a lantern—enchanted, to glow—and tipped her head towards the woodland. “I was gonna collect some water. Want to come?”

Trevelyan nodded; there was little to argue.

They ambled off together into the pitch-black, leaving a guard alerted to where they were headed. Their only light was that of Dagna’s lantern—it shone well enough, and Trevelyan hadn’t the motivation to conjure some flame of her own.

The river was best located by sound, anyway, and it was not far. Less than a minute of walking, and they were at its bank.

The light of the lantern sparkled across its surface; it was no more than a small stream—to the calves at its deepest—but it tumbled down from on high, through a delicate little waterfall in which the glow reflected.

“Perfect!” said Dagna, setting the lantern down. She filled a flask with its crystal-clear waters, and splashed a little on her face, too. “You really don’t get this sort of thing in Orzammar.”

The idea made Trevelyan a little more appreciative of it. “Not in the Circle, either.”

Dagna rose. “Yeah.” She fell silent, for a moment, then said: “I’m sorry about yours.”

Trevelyan shook her head. “Doomed to fall, eventually.”

“Still hurts, all the same.” She took a sip of the flask, then secured the stopper. “I heard from some of the big-shots that something happened, before you came to Skyhold.”

The word was getting out, then. Trevelyan knew the Grand Enchanter to be aware, now; she’d figured the mages had been told, given the looks she got from the Ostwick contingent. They were of two kinds: sympathetic, or disgusted.

Then again, perhaps she was imagining them. Perhaps she saw what she expected to see. Perhaps she saw what she thought of herself.

“Yes,” she admitted to Dagna, at least, “something did.”

“Are you okay?”

Trevelyan smiled, albeit weakly. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Trevelyan bent down to the river, and dragged a finger through it, toying with the ripples. “It’s all right. It’ll pass.”

Dagna crouched with her. “Is that how you lost your staff?”

“I destroyed it myself,” Trevelyan told her, recalling the memory of a woodland much like this one. “I needed to hide the fact I was a mage. I smashed the focus, and buried the pieces. I burnt the shaft as firewood. The blade, I kept for defence.”

But even that had gone, eventually—something of what she’d sold, to earn her crossing to Ostwick.

“You must feel incomplete without it,” murmured Dagna.

The thought hadn’t occurred to Trevelyan before; but she’d not really had time to think of it. The words, newly arranged within her mind, hit as if a dagger. A feeling, now recognised, could be described: she was a half a mage without her staff.

“I wonder if things would have been different, if I had it,” she confessed.

“What things?”

“The explosive. If I’d had it—would it not have failed?”

Dagna placed a hand on Trevelyan’s back, and gave her a sympathetic rub. “Don’t take it personally—this happens all the time with my experiments,” she reassured her. “Things fail until they work.”

Trevelyan shifted, so that Dagna’s hand fell away. She pushed herself to stand. “I should’ve worked more. I shouldn’t have wasted so much time running around after my friends.”

“What?” Dagna stood herself. “How much more could you have worked?”

“There’s—there’s just no time to try again. It was this, or nothing—the only reason we cannot stay longer, the only reason we have to go back to Skyhold tomorrow—is because soon enough, I am to be returned to my parents. There’s no time.”

“And your parents don’t like magic?”

Trevelyan chuckled at the notion that they ever would.

“Yeah,” Dagna said, recognising the answer. “I know what that’s like. I mean, when I say my father didn’t want me to leave—Ancestors, he was furious! But I had to do what I wanted to do. I couldn’t live if I wasn’t doing this!” She turned to Trevelyan, urgency in her eyes. “Maybe you need to do the same.”

“Do what?”

“Seek out your own path in life, like I did when I came to the surface,” Dagna explained. “Doesn’t have to be with the Inquisition—could be anything. I could even help you find something. The Circles may have fallen, but… there are people out there studying, like us.”

This idea was one that, to Trevelyan, had only ever appeared as a dream. She had always wished that there would be something, somewhere, out in the world, waiting for her. But seeking it out was a risk. A risk she could not afford to take.

“What if I fail?” she asked. “Like with this? Like with the Circle? If I forsake my parents, I’ll have nothing to return to should everything collapse again.”

Dagna shook her head, smiling. “I’m not sure about that! I mean, that was a pretty big farewell party that came to see you off. Biggest I’ve seen for such a short trip!”

“Well—”

Trevelyan recalled how they’d left Skyhold. All those people, waving—and just for her. The Ladies. Herzt. Varric. Dorian, if he could bother to get out of bed. Sera, somewhere. In her mind, their hands changed, from waving farewell, to beckoning her back.

Dagna continued, “You know, there was a reason I was always so lax about when you showed up to work—well, two. One was that you work way too much anyway. But the other is that I knew you were making friends, making connections! And you came across to me as someone who needed that.”

Tears welled in Trevelyan’s eyes. Yet Dagna went on:

“I don’t regret how much time you didn’t spend in the Undercroft. I don’t think this would’ve worked even if you had. But if you had, you wouldn’t have those people. And for you to do the work I know you’re capable of, you need those people.”

With a sigh of relent, Trevelyan smiled. “You are correct as always, Arcanist.”

Dagna giggled. She gave Trevelyan’s arm a loving bump, and told her emphatically, “Have confidence in who you are. I know how scary that is—but you need it, if you’re going to see this through. You know who you are. You know what you’re capable of. Right?”

Trevelyan nodded. She knew who she was:

“I am Trevelyan of Ostwick,” she said, “I am mage, and I am excellent at arcane study.”

“Don’t tell me”—Dagna spread her arms wide—“tell the world!”

Trevelyan turned to the river, and the forest beyond. She called out: “I am Trevelyan of Ostwick, I am mage, and I am excellent at arcane study!”

“Let it out!”

Trevelyan sucked in a breath, and released it as a scream. The energy of the Fade warped and cracked under the weight of her emotion. Every injustice that she had endured, every barb that stuck, still bleeding, within her skin, was finally released.

Ice formed at her feet, spreading out over the river. It continued with her scream, rapid and clawing, consuming the flowing waters and bringing them to a standstill. It climbed the waterfall with ease—scaling it, as it scaled over.

The sound of the water stopped; the sound of her scream stopped. She withdrew.

Dagna grinned. Nothing but ice before them. A gentle, frosty mist settled in the air. “Perfect.”

The ice cracked and shifted quietly, the only sound. Breath turned cloudy, in its proximity. The lantern’s glow glittered across the surface. Peace and tranquility, something Trevelyan had longed to feel. The hope that came with a future of possibility.

But it was soon interrupted. Leaves rustled and brush moved; clanking armour came running through.

“Arcanist, your Ladyship!?” called the guards, weapons drawn.

Trevelyan and Dagna turned around. Their retinue had arrived, mouths falling open at the scene—a frozen river; glimmers in the air; and their two charges, completely unharmed.

“Everything’s fine, thank you!” Dagna told them.

“You sure, Arcanist?” asked a guard.

“Hunky-dory!”

It was fortunate that these guards were trained not to ask questions, for they asked none. Instead, they simply sheathed their blades and withdrew into the brush. Though chuntering to each other as they went, they left the area as they’d found it.

Trevelyan gave Dagna a grateful look, which was met with humble nonchalance. Dagna instead bent down to the enbankment, and picked up a sizeable rock.

“We don’t want to flood the plateau,” she said, before hurling the thing at the frozen waterfall. (A trait of hers, it seemed.)

The stone smashed through the ice, cracks arcing outward; under the growing force of the water above, the waterfall burst open, and shards rained down in a shimmering hail.

As water rushed to regain lost time, Trevelyan pushed out a heavy breath. Emotions flowed through her mind, like the river retaking its course. She was exhausted.

“I think I ought to head to bed,” she murmured.

Dagna nodded, pulling a sheaf of paper from the bag at her waist. “Don’t forget to read Varric’s bedtime story,” she said, handing it to Trevelyan.

Trevelyan took it, and stared at it. Her tired mind was barely able to make out the words—and yet, a thought formed within it.

“I know we can’t delay our journey,” she said, “but may we stop by the node again tomorrow, briefly?”

“Sure,” Dagna replied, “why?”

Trevelyan flicked through the pages. “There’s something I want to test.”