#ista trevelyan

[hornkerling]

Meet Hester Thorne, who I can already tell is going to be a fun sort of disaster.

Recreating Ista was...a challenge (what do you mean I can't rotate the scars, this is important, arrgh) but I've done my best.

All my veilgard posts will be tagged: dav spoilers. Block as needed!

[jellydishes]

i am Asking about your dragon age protags

HDUFHFHCHCHFY

OKAY

SO

•tsurin tabris is a trans lady rogue who is afraid of A Lot of things, and reacts to that fear with the Fluff Up Like A Bird/ghibli character school of thought aka if you act pissed off enough nobody will know you're scared. she carries a lot of guilt about her mother's death, and grew to associate that with an incident from that same night wherein she was attacked by a dog, which resulted in a phobia of dogs (imagine how much fun the brecilian forest quest was, let alone having a mabari). she starts the beginning of the game distrusting mages because she drank some of the chantry coolaid, but she gets better. she spends most of the game wanting to run away but later Learns A Sense of Duty, and became the arlessa of amaranthine. romanced zevran officially, but in my heart she romo's most of the party lol

•ludte hawke similarly internalized a lot of guilt about her father's death, but in her case she turned that into a very severe case of No Weakness Allowed. she is stiff and terse and judgmental and very much a red hawke. everything has to be done her way (which definitely landed her in trouble with carver and bethany), but she gets better by increments. secretly donates money to anders' clinic, and supports mage rights. eventually romances isabela, though in my heart she also romances half the party

•belluel trevelyan started off as a protagonist but i enjoy her more as a side character the protag would be able to recruit, tbh. she is a 60 year old pirate captain with two prosthetic legs, and the cousin of @hornkerling's ista trevelyan. as compared to my other two protags she is cheerful and rarely takes offense, but also is a perpetual liar about pretty much everything, both out of self defense but also because that's just how she interacts with the world now. she makes it obvious that she's lying, but she still will. the only surviving member of a set of triplets, and having previously been in a relationship with her first mate, claudette. she is interested in women and nonbinary people, and is polyamorous

[cobaltash]

The Impromptu OC Party is over, but I still feel like showing off all the gorgeous guests that graced it, so here we are, with the first half of them XD

Thank all of you who attended!

Guest list under the cut!

Venus Surana belongs to @fandombird123

Levyn Trevelyan belongs to @queen-scribbles

Ista belongs to @erisbatt

Shokra Adaar belongs to @athelari

Bran belongs to @actualanxiousswampwitch

Mahanon Lavellan belongs to @chaifootsteps

Mercury Primm belongs to @aban-ataashi

[jellydishes]

this is my belluel trevelyan. after her cousin ista was taken away by the templars, she dedicated the next ten years of her life to rescuing her from the circle before finally running away to be a pirate. she’s fifty years old, polyamorous, and a compulsive liar who always tries to make her companions laugh

Positvity Post

I haven’t done one in a while and things got a little sad on my blog so let’s pick it up.

Reblog with your OC and I’ll tell them why I love them.

For non-followers, followers, and mutuals

DA fandom only(sorry I just can’t compliment something I know nothing about)

Aro/ace/trans/homophobes, sexists, racists, terfs, and general bastards DNI this is a safe space and you aren’t welcome.

[istatrevelyan]

"Will you be quiet now?" For Ludte! :)

Ista returns the kiss fiercely, openly, pressing forward and up and letting one hand travel to the base of Ludte’s throat. She doesn’t read people well. Not clear. Not fast. But Ludte is wire-tense and Ista feels like she’s swallowing tears and want and something bright, something keening, a please along with shared breath and heat. 

She lets her teeth close gently on Ludte’s lower lip, and tugs,knowing that if she pulls away she will be all mess and all smile, face flushed and scars white. . 

[forgerandfirebug]

I feel like this deserves captions. 

[hornkerling]

Poor Ista gets her own post

This is the face of a woman who was forced to do important shit in ugly pajamas again. Wasn't even a bug this time!

C'mon, game. You can do a better prosthetic than this. I know Bull, Dagna and Ista together came up with much better shit.

It was still really good to see her, but the line delivery was...definitely something. I'm curious if the Solasmancers get anything extra.

I had to re-load after I chose an option to comment on the Trevalyan family.

Acting Vicount Aveline Vallen?? (I cannot imagine she's thrilled about that). Varric, tell me things.

I did appreciate that she called Harding Lace.

[hornkerling]

reblogging because this brings me joy nearly 10 years later.

I know, I know. I commission a lot of art for Ista. But I’ve never commissioned her with Bull before and @tevinterllama did the most incredible job. The back-and-forth emails leading up to and following this art are full of exclamations, but I was running out of ways to say: look, look them, the sneak!romantic dorks…

Ista’s scars. Bull’s missing fingers. The stretch of muscle of her arm being held that way, both of them knowing exactly how much her body can take and pushing it a little further, even in simple gestures. Bull braces as he pulls. Her thumb at his cheek is the result of a thousand tiny movements. 

(also, she’s blushing a little and I’m dying.) 

Jackie, thank you so much for your patience and the care and effort you put into this. 

Also, a shoutout to @neotericwitch, as Ista is wearing one of the outfits they designed for her, and everything is awesome. 

[hornkerling]

Liadan Hawke - who learns more about grief and friendship in seven years than can fill all her songs. 

Ista Trevelyan - who laughs and fights and fights while laughing, proud of each new scar and questioning - yearning - letting herself get tangled up in hope. 

Niamh Tabris  and Dolours Surana - angry and vivid and alive when I was only one of those things. Niamh, still and strong and proud when her voice comes out above a whisper; Dolours, all quick hopes and deep risks and sacrifice. 

Nasrin Trevelyan de Serault - that same risk, but with faith mixed in. Vulnerable and raw and learning all the time. 

Fidan Lavellan - trickery and show and laughter - refusing to let the world get in the way of a good story, even when she hates the ending. 

The siblings Cadash - both of them growing - seeking - Pax finding solace and words for rage and a place to grieve while Xanthe is able to stand under new sky. The both of them learning that they don’t just have each other for the rest of their lives. 

Happy OC day. I love these fools. 

[hornkerling]

5 and 14 for Ista and 13 and 20 for Xanthe?

Ista Trevelyan

5. Guilty pleasures - Does playing up the terrifying rift mage in front of Cullen count? That or falling over in front of him. The two have a fairly tense relationship. She thinks he’s a git who oversimplifies things and who is terrified of her for no good reason, and he thinks that she’s a dangerous mage with an extra level of uncertainty added by the fact that she spends half her time face-planted and scowling at people. She should accept help! He should pull his fucking head in! etcetera, etcetera...

Other pleasures, guilty or otherwise: the pranks with Sera. She finds herself tearing up a bit at being invited to do anything like this, because she’s never done anything like it. Appalling Orlesians. (Josie spent the entire time at Halamshiral trying not to tear her head out.) Flustering a lover to the point of incoherence (Bull rarely lets her get away with that one!) Varric’s crime novels. Skinny dipping. 

14. Ingrained habits/forces of habit - checking for any Templars in the room. Scanning for listening spells. Re-organizing any library shelf by topic and alpha-order. 

For years, she’d wake up and check to see if she could move all her limbs, whether she had any lingering trace of unaesthetic in her mouth; whether any pat of her had been shaved or bandaged. She’s mostly free of that response by the time Inquisition happens, but when she starts being injured in the field, as anyone would be, it comes back with a vengeance, even when she’s trying, calm as possible, to tell herself that the world is different now. 

Xanthe Cadash

13. What gets them flustered - skill. Doesn’t have to be a skill she shares - in face being good at something Xanthe is completely unfamiliar with shall make her smile dreamily, chin in hands. Flirting as a thing, once she thinks about it. It’s easy when it’s just back-and-forth, but as soon as she realises ‘oh hell, are we flirting I think we’re flirting’, she’ll end up flustered as hell. Though still able to continue, once the blush subsides. 

Good posture. Tall women. Complicated handwriting. 

20. What-ifs/Alternate Timelines - well, there’s the one or two alternate timelines where Pax and @meridok’s  Radh Lavellan are a thing, which means that Xanthe has two annoying older brothers whom she adores - not that Radh and Xan ever actually have that conversation with words half the time, that would be far too sentimental. That universe has two branch points - the one where Radhel is Inquisitor and I imagine that Xanthe and Pax are relatively angst-free companions, and the one where Pax and Xanthe are Inquisitors...and everything goes to shit. 

There’s also the AU of ‘only Pax or Xanthe make it to conclave’, but that’s horrible. 

[hornkerling]

High tides (Ista Trevelyan/Dagmar Halfner, ockiss17)

For @bloomingcnidarians, whose incredible Dagmar Halfner continues to bring me (and Ista) joy. Inspired by this art.

Ista is a companion Dagmar’s Inquisitorial universe, set in the same world as this fic. 

“When we’re done here,” Ista says, voice echoing from the cave, “I want to go somewhere nice.”

“You love the Storm Coast,” Dagmar drawls. She hopes it’s a drawl. She’s crouched on her knees at the cave’s entrance, air open and sharp on her back, everything thick with kelp and wet rock and the faint sulphur of Ista’s rift magic trailing in her wake the same way her voice does, in this space.

Dagmar has air.

Ista has been down that bloody cave for far too bloody long.

“Demon infested smugglers caves do not count,” she says.  

Dagmar grins. “Should I have asked Solas?”

“Should you?” Laughter from the depths, low and tripping on stone.  “You usually want to slap Solas.”

“I want to slap you all the time.”

“Yes, dear. But I like it.”

Scrabbling. Water dripping into water. Ista’s voice softening into a frayed mumble.

“Where is this bloody thing? This map is about as useful as a—”

Dagmar—gut clenched, salt mixing with rain water in her mouth--shifts as light flares. It’s bright enough that she’s blinking, hands moving to her bow.

“—Maker mothering fuck on a leaking—“

“—Ista?”

Dagmar can go in. If she must. If there’s silence, and rising tide, and—

“—Ista, use your mouth. If you don’t—“

--it’s simple. She’ll move. She’ll let the rock scrape her shoulders. Bend forward, keep her air tight between her stomach and throat while the walls lean in and her hand flares and aches in the dark, the light showing jagged edges and every place the cave. presses. in. She won’t be too big. She won’t—she can’t—

“Ista—“

“—fine!” Ista says, loud and a little too high. “I’m fine, Dagmar. Just a fall. Very predictable. Just a few feet. Bit dizzy! There’s so much space in here. “

Dagmar swallows bile while she smiles. “I’ll take your word for It, sweetheart.”

“I think—yes.” Triumph. Slow breaths. “I found one of your stupid shards, Inquisitor. And a bit more besides. And no rift. Just a lot of residual—well. Do you want the specifics?”

“Are they dull?”

“They’re specific.” A pause. “Specifically, you don’t have to come down here.”

Acid relief. “That is good enough for me.”

“When this is done—“

“—somewhere nice, I heard you. The Mire is lovely in Spring.”

By the time Ista staggers out of the cave she is scraped up and still swearing through a smile. When Dagmar reaches into the cave, ignoring all tripping heartbeats so she can grab the other woman and haul her the last bit of the way, she holds on with her good hand hard enough to bruise.

“There,” Ista says, stepping away to loosen the weight from her back, glowering as she fumbles with straps. “That’s done. “ The haul from the cave lands at her feet and she grins, swaying a little. “Satisfied?”

Dagmar reaches out, brushes a bead of blood from Ista’s forehead, another from her cheek. “What do think, brat?”

Ista flushes, throat working. “If you call me that, I’ll—you’ll—“

Dagmar smirks. The touches are grounding, each smoothing over into another. Cheek and chin and jaw and throat, all while Ista’s own hands move to her shoulders, lip catching between her teeth as she forces both of them to flatten there.

“—I’ll what, Trevelyan?”

“You’ll have to hold me up,” Ista mutters, flush deepening. “This was a bit—ooof. Dagmar.”

More air than sound on her name, as Dagmar shifts them both and pins Ista beneath her on the sand. She guides the fall, and Ista is left spluttering, laughing, arching up into her so that her lips are at the base of Dagmar’s throat, teeth quick and tongue soothing as her heartbeat kicks.

They both shudder.  

“Rude,” Dagmar says, low. “I’m holding you, aren’t I? Just down, ‘stead of up.”

“Incorrigible—“

“—Demanding—“ She presses down, hard enough that Ista loses half her air, carching the low, shaky whimper in her mouth at the same time as she manages to pin Ista’s wrists.  

Half a laugh. Ista drags her mouth away, nipping the corner of Dagmar’s lip, teeth catching on her chin.  “—Infuriating.”

“Brat.”  

[hornkerling]

I'm still trying to work out who will be my inquisitor for the first veilgard playthrough. Not sure if it's going to be Ista, Fidan, or Nasrin (or even Pax and Xanthe? Aaargh) but I'm sharing some writing and art for each so I can get back into their headspace. Trespasser continued to be an amazing installement for a left-handed inquisitor with balance issues.

Opening this with the non-spoilery but rather lovely look at Cassandra’s approving face. 

Ow, my heart. So much of Trespasser was lovely. Not perfect, I know, but things just clicked with Ista. 

Keep reading

[hornkerling]

6 and 16 for Ista?

6. Their vices, physical or emotional - for Ista, it’s probably pride. She has a complicated relationship with pride. It’s a crucial part of who she is and keeps her getting out of bed in the morning. She is, in fact, proud of her pride

 But it’s also the thing that stops her from asking for help with people she actually cares about, and the more she cares about you the more she will end up stuck in a space where she doesn’t want to burden that other person in any way, even if it means she ends up face first in the mire for it. She’ll ask for help from people she doesn’t know, or thinks she won’t see again, much more easily. 

16. Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’. She has regrets–being caught out and sent to the circle; not leaving the circle until it collapsed; not helping apprentices escape and knowing, in her heart of hearts, that she probably would have talked them into staying if anyone had asked her, because she grew up feeling utterly trapped by the whole institution  but none of this is secret.  She’s not very good with secrets. 

[hornkerling]

7, 20, and 39 for Ista?

07. Is there a catchphrase or sound that they tend to make a lot (likely without being aware of it)?  

Ista doesn;t  even realise she’s swearing half the time. Just sort of sneaks in, sotto voce, as she’s going about her daily life (...falling her daily falls.) The Chargers would probably inspire some unique combinations of invective. 

20. Does your character like animals? What are some of their favorite animals? Would they want pets? What about mythological creatures?

Mostly, Ista likes animals at a distance. (Unless they’re dragons, in which case she tends to get appallingly close-range. Thanks, Bull.) She doesn’t really trust herself to look after a plant, let alone anything with eyes. She’s fond of birds, loves the idea of griffin  and would eat up any stories about them. I sort of want to write “Ista gets adopted by a scraggly, angry, particularly cat-like griffin that won’t take no as an answer” now, but that would be a bit daft. 

39. When people look at your character, is there some assumption they might make about them just by appearance? Is that assumption correct? 

She is (much to her annoyance) much less angry than she looks half the time, especially once  the inquisition has disbanded and she’s hermiting on the storm coast. 

[hornkerling]

4 & 39 for Xanthe and 12 & 29 for Ista, please!

04. What are their favorite traits about their lover? (one psychological and one physical)

Hmm. I’ll answer for Josephine, as the Xanthe/Calpernia AU is still just a collection of dialogue fragments at the back of my head. 

Xanthe’s drawn to strong lines. A but of asymmetry. Does Josephine’s entire face count as a physical trait? No? Well, too bad. Nose and jaw and slightly crooked teeth and eyes that smile before the rest of her face, but only when it counts. As for a physiological trait: Xanthe is awed by Josephine's mix of memory and empathy and the ability to focus on 7,000 things at once, but takes equal delight in creating a space where Josephine can just completely unravel, from time to time. Somewhere she can lose all her lists. 

Now that I think about it, Xanthe’s not into D/s as such, but would definitely have long conversations with Bull about psychological aspects of dominance if the opportunity ever arose. 

39. When people look at your character, is there some assumption they might make about them just by appearance? Is that assumption correct? 

Aside from some older sorts who continually misread her as ‘doe-eyed waif’, Xanthe’s face and body language reflects what she’s feeling (along with a general, and v accurate, soft butch aesthetic)..  Stuck with people she doesn’t know in a long stretch of country?  Xanthe would come across as jittery and uncommunicative and deeply unhappy. In her own workspace or somewhere like Kirkwall or Antiva city? Vivid, cocky know-it-all.

(Both she and Pax are profoundly grateful people aren’t mistaking her for his child any more. That was a very awkward two years or so. )

ISTA

12. Is there some particular talent, skill, or attribute that they simply could not give up?  

You know, I don’t think so. It’s tempting to say the use of her hands, except, thanks to Trespasser, that is manifestly not true. Speech? Would devastate and frustrate her, but she’s so used to gaining and losing bits of her body -- bits of her magic (how well does her beloved rift magic work after the breach is sealed and the mark cut away, I wonder? Probably not well at all. 

What Ista treasures, more than any individual part of it, is the fact that she is alive, and out of the Circle - in a position where, no matter what else happens, she cannot go back to what and where she was. She’ll take anything else that comes at her, deal with any other loss. 

Fuck it. She is alive.  

29. What is one of the most courageous things your character has ever done for a loved one?

(“...taking down a dragon without the seven foot tall dragon hunter just so I could fashion him a gory giant necklace?”)

Probably going to the Circle without more than her first fight to protect, in her mind, her aunts and cousin. This isn’t something that she thinks of as particularly brave -- except at two in the morning in her fifties when she has brief flashes of horror for the child she was.

[hornkerling]

one of my favourite 'canon' pieces with Ista, mostly because I can still hear some of this dialogue

“Wanna dance?”, Inquizzy plus LI of your choice.

A final party, the grand ballroom of the Winter Palace done up in blues and golds and Inquisition heraldry that made Ista want to laugh or burn something down. 

(”Orlais shall never say we saw you off poorly, Inquisitor.” The empress’s voice cool as Ista did her best not fall flat on her face as the exalted council dispersed behind them. 

Whispers and footsteps on tile. Rosemary and bruised violets. Ringed hands reaching out toward Ista, scrabbling for an arm that was no longer there. 

That might have been the the drugs. There had been a few of those.  

“Orlais can say what it likes,” she said.  “It usually does.”)

Orlais chose the grand farewell. Strings and gleam and sideways looks. 

“I keep expecting one of them to come up to me and just…quietly let me know,” she said, managing a grin. “’Why, my lady former inquizeetor, were you aware you ave, euh, meesplaced your arm?! I know a grand jeweler in Val Royeaux…’” 

“Right,” Varric said, eyes bright. “Whatever drugs they gave you so you could walk into this mess? I want some.” 

“Varric.” 

Ista didn’t turn to see what disguised expression graced Cassandra’s face. She’d fall,  and Varric’s name in the Seeker’s mouth filled in the details well enough. 

“It’s all right, Cassandra,” she said. “This is all a bit ludicrous.” 

Warmth at her back. A slow, steady grip as Bull fisted his hand in the hair  Josephine had so carefully pinned up for the occasion. Ista bit her lip. Half scold, half groan. 

“I’ve got you,” he said. He had an arm braved about her, free hand at her hip. Ista listened to the crowd rustle. 

(”A qunari? Still. After all of this?” 

“I have a cousin at Skyhold. You would not believe what they did with a chandelier.”) 

“Bull,” she muttered. “I think I’m supposed to be looking fierce and untouchable.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Probably.” 

“They’re looking at you,” Bull said. Each word heavy. Distinct. Her skin pricked on syllables.  “They keep looking at you, and you hate it.”

Blood in her ears. She closed her eyes, flushing at the halting strangeness of fingers curling where there were none, all the muscles in her neck and upper arm working to complete the impossible movement. It nearly broke through the mix of embrium, dawn lotus and sleep that covered her nerves in a fragile second skin. 

“Not new,” she whispered. 

“It is, a bit. So’s the shame.” 

“I don’t--” 

The hand at her waist moved. Skirted up until he gripped her shoulder. Skimmed down again until he lightly gripped her truncated upper arm. 

Blood in her mouth. Bull’s voice, low and ceaseless. 

I’ve got you. Good, kadan. 

Testing. Drowning out the crowd and even their friends as Ista raised her chin. Tried to keep her head. Shuddering as the hand in her hair grew tighter, making her scalp prickle at the new stretch.  

“This is me,” Bull said. “Enjoying you still being not dead.”

“And making a spectacle.” 

“That, too. Wanna dance?”  

“For once in my life,” Ista said, wondering at the crack in her voice, the tears that felt like they were one wrong breath away as Bull’s hand left her hair in a scatter of gold pins while the other still kept that gentle grip on her arm.  “I might.” she leaned up. Let her lips brush the base of his throat. The base of his jaw.  

“I’ll probably fall on my face afterward, though. Fair warning.”

“Kadan,” Bull said. “You’re safe.”