#jocelyn trevelyan

[servantofclio]

Dragon Age OCs: Links

Complete roster... for now!

WARDENS

Kascinda Tabris (rogue, romanced Alistair)

Maeve Surana (mage, romanced Zevran)

Coran Aeducan (warrior, romanced Morrigan)

Nim Amell (mage, romanced Leliana)

WARDEN-COMMANDER

Azalais Caron (rogue)

HAWKES

Jocelyn Hawke (rogue, romanced Anders, really belongs with Varric)

Aderyn Hawke (mage, romanced Fenris)

Valencia Hawke (warrior, romancing Isabela, unfinished playthrough)

INQUISITORS

Branwan Lavellan (rogue, romanced Solas)

Simon Trevelyan (warrior, romanced Dorian)

[autisticlaezel]

4, 7, and 17 for the hype asks!

Thanks :D

4) What does your worldstate look like going into DAV?

I have two that I'm considering using for my first playthrough. My primary one:

Warden: Narev Brosca (rogue). Zevran romancer who allied with the mages in broken circle. Let Jowan cure Connor with blood magic. Sided with the elves in Nature of the Beast. Put Bhelen on the throne of Orzammar. Put Alistair and Anora on the throne together and spared Loghain, who did the dark ritual

Champion: Aylin Hawke (mage). Primarily aggressive/blunt responses. Anders (alive and well) romancer. Didn't bring Carver into the deep roads with her. Befriended most of her party except for Carver (😭) and Aveline. Bartrand is alive. Varric didn't keep the idol. Sided with the mages in The Last Straw

Inquisitor: Emilia Trevelyan (mage). Romanced Josephine. Allied with the mages. Briala rules through Gaspard. Loghain left in the fade. Grey Wardens pardoned. Inquisitor drank from the Well of Sorrows. Disbanded the Inquisition. Leliana is Divine. Wants to redeem Solas

And my secondary one

Warden: Jocelyn Cousland (rogue). Romanced (and hardened) Leliana. Allied with the mages in Broken Circle for purely opportunistic reasons out of the kindness of her heart. Gets help from the circle to free Connor. Brokered peace in Nature of the Beast. Put Bhelen on the throne of Orzammar. Rules jointly with Alistair who did the dark ritual

Champion: Wren Hawke (rogue). Didn't romance anyone in game, but has a complicated Pining situation going on with Varric that takes them until Inquisition to unpack, and had a brief fling with Isabela. Primarily humorous/charming responses. Didn't bring Bethany to the Deep Roads. Befriended everyone. Bartrand is alive. Varric kept the idol. Sided with the mages in The Last Straw

Inquisitor: Oliver Trevelyan (rogue). Romanced Dorian. Allied with the mages. Celene continues to rule Orlais. Stroud left in the Fade. Grey Wardens exiled. Morrigan drank from the Well of Sorrows. Did not disband the Inquisition. Vivienne is Divine. Wants to stop Solas

7) Which character from previous games or other media are you most hoping will make an appearance in DAV?

Zevran, but only if he isn't whitewashed. Maevaris. Sten

17) Are you interesting in all the lore and speculation or do you focus more on the games and stories themselves?

A mix, I think? Lore and speculation is a lot of fun, but I don't always have the brainpower for it, so I simply focus on the games/stories/my own oc thoughts instead fondkdndmd

[aliemah]

Love Languages

You can’t say I never did anything for you, now! I wrote some Cullen x Trevelyan fluff fic that’s just me being cutesy and self-indulgent but I guess you can read it too if you want.

Click here to read that shit on AO3 or you can read it below the cut.

------

To her, love was more than just the hugging and kissing and good feelings that came with it. Once it had meant just that, but since she’d met Cullen, her perception of what love was had changed.

Love was getting to watch him wake up from a deep sleep in the early morning sun, hair messy and tangled. Sharing a bed through the night was different, but soon it became his only comfort. Feeling him pull her closer to his chest, placing kisses on her neck before he pressed his nose into her hair - he loved the subtle scent of elderflower of the soap she used. Some mornings his hands would wander her body aimlessly. Always reverent, appreciative, caring. Other mornings, there was a purpose, and meaning to his touches. Desperate after a period of absence from each other, teasing when she’d brought up that game of Wicked Grace, gentle when she’d had a poor night’s sleep.

Love was listening to him give orders to his soldiers to protect the fortress, to secure a new foothold in a region, to send a report to Leliana to decipher. Conviction and confidence suited him, and he didn’t need the massive fur on his shoulders to stand out as the commander. He often shed it to spar with new recruits, anyway. Hearing the pure exertion of his energy with each swing, each blow that was taken, the care in his voice - remember to raise your shield! - the gentle reminders as splinters were pulled from tender skin. For as fierce and immovable as the man was, he had a heart of gold. Every soldier knew this. Every soldier respected this. Orders were spoken once, heeded twice. She only ever heard him raise his voice once outside battle; someone had been careless with their sword. A shout turned to a stern voice, softer words, and a reminder to mind their sword.

Love was waking up in the middle of the night when his night terrors returned. Wiping the sweat from his forehead when he woke, reassuring him he didn’t have to apologize for waking her. Never asking him to talk to her, but always there to listen. When he caught his breath, she went to grab the teapot, getting fresh water and tea and setting it by the fire. Sometimes she would wrap him in a blanket, sometimes she would simply lean against him. Whether he talked or remained silent, he always held her hand. She wasn’t sure what it was about the tea that was so soothing to him, but after a cup or two, he was always ready to go back to sleep. He always clutched to her dearly when they lay back down, sometimes so tight she almost couldn’t breathe. But eventually, he would relax, sleeping peacefully the remainder of the night with her beneath the weight of his arms.

Love was the pain that came with the realization she could die any day, at any time. Tucked away in a dark corner of Skyhold, face soaked with tears as her arms wrapped around her legs, she was hardly surprised when she heard Cole’s voice calmly guiding Cullen to her. Cole wanted to help, he assured the boy that he’d done enough to bring him to her, and asked him to please wait outside. His smile was gentle, knowing, and he simply sat beside her, making a comment about how she must be freezing sitting on the stone floor for so long. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, but she cracked a smile and leaned against the fur of his coat. Silence for so long. Until his hand turned palm up, nearly in her face. Cole had told him what had been on her mind. He knew that fear well, and wanted to show her something. Despite the cold and the rain, they made their way to the edge of the bridge of Skyhold, where he spoke in that same, patient, quiet voice. She had much to be proud of, and every right to be afraid. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t in control. Her armor was well maintained even when she was out traveling, the same to be said of her weapons. Her companions would all protect her fiercely or die themselves trying to save her. There were worse things than death, he claimed, but she didn’t have the mind to ask what he meant by that - he was likely speaking from experience. Each moment they spent alone, her pain was eased with the knowledge that she was understood perfectly. It would never go away but the burden was made easier.

Love was seeing the way his face lit up upon seeing her after a long day. The hard lines on his face softened, his lips would curl and pull at the scar ever so slightly, his eyes seemed to reignite with some fire behind them. Some days she could stroll right up to his desk and greet him, other days she waited by the door for his meeting to finish. His greeting was always the same - a sight for sore eyes. The days when she returned from a mission outside the fortress, often late in the evening, she felt she was the one who needed to see him. Sometimes he was already asleep, taking up the entire space of the bed until she woke him with a gentle nudge, collapsing beside him and effectively passing out. Other times it seemed he knew she would be returning and kept himself awake to greet her and make sure everything went as well as it ever could. He treated her like she was the only person worth listening to when she came with news of any kind, pushing aside all other responsibilities or feelings to give her his complete attention with that mildly adorable look in his eyes to match.

Love was seeing the relief that overtook him when she returned from her final battle with Corypheus. She was covered in blood, bruises, dirt and sweat, but he saw right past all of it when he took her in his arms, his sword clattering to the ground beside them. Her legs felt ready to give out, and he lowered them both to the ground to sit, keeping his arms firmly around her. She was cradled, feeling his warm tears against her neck.

Love was watching him casually toss opened letters into the fire as she curled up against him. There was a faint smile on his face with each one that got added. Elaborate wax seals in various shades of red or blue, fanciful script that was sometimes too elaborate to be read. Declarations of interest or outright proposals all tossed into the flame as he held her hand. As the last of the pile was cast into the heat, the thumb that had broken each of those seals was placed on her lower lip before he leaned down to press his own lips to hers.

Love was finding herself incapable of seeing a future without him. Inquisition or no, he was beside her. At times, it was beside her back home in Ostwick. Other times she imagined what it might be like to live in Ferelden. She asked him one afternoon over a game of chess what he might do if the Inquisition was disbanded. He replied, with readiness she hadn’t anticipated, that he intended to follow her wherever she went. Consequently, he asked what she thought she might do, and she forgot the game of chess, staring dumbly across at him in surprise at his words. Moving a piece on the board, she grinned, admitting she liked the sound of that. She asked if he would like to see Ostwick, and meet her family. He joked about not being of the proper breed to meet them, despite knowing all he had to do was ask and he could gain just about any noble title he desired, short of King. He sacrificed a knight to protect his queen, smiling when he replied he would love to meet her family if they were open to meeting him.

Love was too many words and feelings to be captured so easily in one. When people asked if she loved Cullen, the answer felt almost too easy, too simple: 

Yes.

[dreadwolfish]

"Someone, help me!" "What's going on here?"

[drbibliophile]

Sunday Romance 11-22-20

Sunday Romance 11-22-20 

Prompt:  Time stops when I’m with you 

Word count:  1520 (sorry… I did try) 

I’m taking this from my Nanowrimo project.  I wasn’t expecting how it went, but sometimes characters surprise us.  So it goes.  I had to edit down a lot as the original bit had over 2100 words.  

Tagging @sunday-romance 

They slipped into the library.  Trevelyan used Power to light the candles by the chess boards.  He led her closer to the light and turned to her.  Carefully, he rolled up her sleeve to reveal where Miranda had held her so tight.  She drew a ragged breath at the tender touch.  His fingers traced over the bruises starting there.  Feather light but enough to draw heat into her veins.  A dark look crossed his face.  

“It’s nothing,”  she soothed.  She pulled away from him, rolling her sleeve down as she did.  She moved towards the chess boards, needing the space from him.  

“But Miranda hurt you.”  

She blinked in surprise before shaking her head.    “What makes you say that?”  

“I saw her grab your arm.”  

“Oh.”  That detail pleased and worried her. “She can’t hurt me, not in a way that matters.  It’s not worth making a fuss over it.”  

“So you’ll forgive her for it?”  His voice sounded hard, rough.  

“I didn’t say that.”  She moved White’s pawn.  “I just said it’s not worth a fuss.”  

“If you say.”  He stood across from her and moved Black’s pawn.  

“Convenient of Aerilon to cause a diversion.” 

“Yes, it was, wasn’t it?”  

She smiled.  “Something tells me this isn’t the first time he’s done this.”  

“Whatever makes you think that?”  

“Call it a hunch.”  

He smiled.  “He is a good friend.”   

“Yes, he is.”  

They played in quiet, still standing across the table from each other.  “Henry had you at his table this evening,” he observed.  

“Yes, so he did.”  She moved her Celestial.  

“You don’t sound pleased.”  

“Am I supposed to be?”  

“Some consider it an honor.”  

“Then he really should find one of them instead of me.”   

“No desire to be queen?”  

She made a disgusted face.  “May the Goddess and the Consort save me from such a fate.”  She studied the boards.  Why had he moved his Castle there?  She moved her Dragon to counter.  She looked up to find him smiling.  “What?”  

“Not afraid I’ll tell Henry how you feel?”  

“Why should I since Henry already knows?”  

He nodded as he took her pawn.  She captured one of his.  They kept playing.  Jocelyn tried to concentrate, but the way he looked at her was distracting.  Truth be told, he was distracting.  What was he doing here with her?  Why did he have Daniel create that diversion so he could bring her here?  It couldn’t have been just about the bruising.  She went to move her Troll then realized that it would be a mistake.   

“You’re not playing very well.”    

She sighed.  “No, I’m not.”  

“Any reason why?”  

She looked up.  Her heart caught on the beauty of him.  She studied the curve of his lips, wondering again what he would taste like and knowing it would be so good.  Gods, why did she have to think of kissing him?  Her fingers itched to trace over the planes of his cheeks.  She wanted to feel his skin against hers, his weight against hers.  Gods, she wanted him.  It was just that simple.  Yet, he did not want her and she knew it… except he was here, studying her in a way he hadn’t before.  Why was he looking at her so?  

“Jocelyn.”  

“Yes?”  

“You didn’t answer my question.”  

She raced to remember which question she had avoided.  “I suppose I didn’t.”  

“Will you answer it now?”  

Her eyes dropped his lips again.  They would be soft and sweet and good.  Yet he wasn’t hers.  He wasn’t.  She saw too much in his look.  Her heart led her down a dangerous path.  She needed to leave.  He wasn’t hers.  He really wasn’t.  She needed to remember that.  

She dragged her eyes away from him.  “No.”  

“Why not?”  

“Because it doesn’t matter.  I’m just not playing well.”  She sighed.  Her hands started for her hair to run her fingers through.  She stopped, remembering all the combs there.  She dropped her hands, brushing her palms over her dress.  “Sorry, Wexton.  Perhaps we could continue this game another time.”  

“If you wish.”  

She nodded.  Now was the time for her to leave.  Yet, she stayed where she was, still caught by him.  How did he do that?  Why was she so enthralled with him?  Did it matter even?  He wasn’t hers.  He wasn’t.  Gods, what was she going to do when he married another?  The thought crashed through her, pummeling her heart, and stealing her breath.  Another.  He was going to marry another.  He was, wasn’t he?  

“I should go,” she said.  “Stay.”  

The word froze her.  “Why?”  she asked even as she wished she hadn’t.  

“Because.”  He stopped.  “I want to say something to you.”  

“Which is?”  He didn’t speak.  He just studied her like she was a wonder.  “Wexton.”  

He shook his head, sending his gaze to the floor.  “It was easier to say in my head.”  

She grinned.  “Most things are.”  

He nodded.  “Yes.”  He blew out his breath, looking away.  She drew her brows together in puzzlement.  Why was he nervous?   “I didn’t mean it, you know.”  

She frowned, confused beyond measure.  “Didn’t mean what?”  

“What I said to Northam, about you having no qualities to commend you as a wife.  I didn’t mean it.”  He looked at her then, pain crossing his face.  “I had to stop him pestering me about you.  You weren’t meant to hear what I said.”  

“But why?” she asked.  “Why say them at all if you didn’t mean them?  

“Because I can’t have him or anyone know how much you matter to me.”  His voice was rough with emotion.  “I’m the King’s Enforcer.  I cannot put anyone before my king, but I’d put you.  You’re my weakness and there are many who’d use you against me and I’d let them if it would keep you safe.  I thought I could marry Miranda as she mattered less, but I can’t.  Not if I have a chance with you.”  He drew a long breath.  “Gods, Jocelyn, with you, I’m at peace.  Time loses meaning and…”  He stopped.  “What?”  

For a moment, she had felt joy.  She mattered to him.  Those words sent her heart soaring.  Then he spoke of Miranda mattering less.  She could see his reasoning, the cruel logic in it, and it infuriated her.  How dare he.   Fury exploded through her.  

“You’d marry someone so you could sacrifice her if necessary?”  

“I…” he started then stopped.  “Oh.”  

“Yes, oh.  Most certainly oh because that’s what you’re implying even if you don’t realize it.”  She glared at him.  “How could you think of doing that to Miranda?  Marrying her just because you don’t love her is awfully cold-hearted and cruel.”  

“But…”  

“And what of your children?”  she demanded.  “Do you really think your enemies wouldn’t target them?”    

He frowned.  “I hadn’t considered that.”  

“Of course you hadn’t considered it.”  She threw her hands into the air.  “Gods, Wexton.  Your family isn’t meant to be your weakness.  They’re meant to be a source of strength and I can’t believe you thought about doing that to Miranda.”  

“You’re defending her?”  he asked in puzzlement.  

“Well, someone has to.”  She crossed her arms over her chest.  “We both know she’s not my favorite person, but I’m not going to let you use her in such a way.  That’s cruel and it’s not you, Wexton.  It really isn’t.”  

“No?”  he asked, his voice edged with anger.  “Are you sure?”  

“Yes!  And before you ask me how I know, I remind you of William and your men.  You think you’re a hard man, but inside you is a very good heart.  I really wish you could see that, but you don’t and I don’t know why.  Which makes your plans for your marriage completely ridiculous and quite frankly stupid considering everyone you hold as a friend is a weakness.”  She stopped, suddenly aware of Trevelyan’s focus on her.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”  

“Like what?”  

She frowned.  “Like you either want to fight me or kiss me and you can’t decide which.”  

He snorted.  “That would be true.”  

“Oh.”  She stilled even as her heart raced again.  “You want to kiss me?”  

He snorted again, this one more a laugh than before.  “Woman, I’ve wanted to kiss you since you took my Castle on our tenth game together and smirked at me in triumph.”  

“Oh.”  She remembered that game well.  “Why didn’t you?”  

“Because I didn’t think you wanted me to.”  

She bit her lip.  “But I did.”  “But you were betrothed to Marsten.”  

“And I still wanted to kiss you.”  

He sighed, shaking his head.  “Perhaps I should’ve then.”  

“You could now.”  The words left her before she could consider the wisdom of them.  

“I could?”  She nodded.  “Thought I was too cruel.”  He leaned towards her over the boards.  

“Only if you’d actually married Miranda.”  She leaned towards him as well.  

“Which I’m not going to do.”  

“No.” 

His lips were close to hers.  “What am I doing instead?”  

She brushed her lips to his.  “Marry me.”  

He grinned.  “Thought you’d never ask.”  

[thecookiealchemist]

Dragon Age OCs: Worldstate One 

[vipers-hat]

Tagged by @troyebakers to do this piccrew

My gorls: Warden Queen Katryn Cousland // Evena Cousland // Ariadne Hawke // Rhia Trevelyan // Hero Princess Jocelyn // Dragonborn Rowena

[arcaneworrier]

my new OC, Jocelyn Trevelyan.

[darlingrutherford]

15?

Thank you so much for the prompt, Nonny! This was such a great prompt that I ended up writing two of them: one for Sarya Lavellan, and one for Frederick Trevelyan.

For those reading To Weather the Storm, the letter I wrote for Sarya to receive is from a character that will eventually be in a future chapter. She would have already received this letter by this point in the story, so no spoilers mentioned. But, maybe a bit of insight to some things that haven’t been brought up yet :)

15. A letter to your OC from a companion they haven’t seen in a while

Letter to Sarya Lavellan

On’ala Sarya,

It has been so long since your last letter to our clan, I began wondering if the Shem made you forget us. I am not even sure this letter will reach you, for surely they are reading them. Still, I have hopes that you will respond.

Clan Lavellan is different without you here. Much has gone on the same in the months since you left, but there is an air of sweetness missing. Fewer flowers are strewn over camp. Arlise’el’s salves do not soothe as well as yours. Do you remember, five years ago, when one of Fen’harel’s wolves came upon our hunting group and caught us by surprise? You had to spend so much time tending to my wounds. I did not think they were so severe, but you always knew best.

With how much time you are spending with the Shem, I hope you will still remember us. You say you are not being held against your will, but can that really be true? I can’t imagine they allow you to roam the forests freely as you did with us, to dance under Mythal’s light during celebrations as we did. I worry about your safety with them. You must be an enigma to them, a free Dalish mage living in their world of cages and templars. I even heard rumor the commander of the Inquisition’s army is one of them, and from Kirkwall no less… I will be asking Istimaethoriel for leave to check on you. Your hand is unmistakable, but still, I wonder.

Astisha mya mar, Vhenan.

Renan Nerian Lavellan

Letter to Frederick Trevelyan

Frederick,

When we sent you to the Conclave to represent House Trevelyan, it was because I believed you to have finally outgrown your childish enthusiasm. Evidently, no manner of upbringing can train that out of you. Your Lady Ambassador wrote to me, begging for intervention as apparently you won’t listen to a word she is saying. Do you know what it’s like, for a mother to receive a letter stating that her youngest son recently fought off a horde of bears he needn’t even fight?

I know, as you have written thusly, that you believe yourself to be in love with your “devilishly handsome, mustachioed companion” as you put it, but, Frederick, surely there are other ways of impressing him? May I suggest poetry, or… Whatever it is they do to woo one another in Tevinter. I’d remind you that flowers have no claws if you pick the correct ones. If you will not do it for the sake of the station of importance you have found yourself to be in so quickly, do it for your mother. I may have to visit in person if Lady Montilyet writes to me in such frustration again.

To answer your question in your last letter, yes, Poppy is doing well. Jocelyn has been giving her much needed attention, as she constantly whines for it in your absence. I am not sure how much longer she will fit through doors, at the rate she is growing. I am sure she will be thrilled to see you when you come home.

Please, listen to Lady Montilyet and stay safe. The Maker can only do so much in spite of your spirit. 

Love, your mother. 

[aurianavaloria]

Get into My OC: Verana-Kathryn Trevelyan

Tagged by @cantkeepmyeyesoff! Thank you! :D Hope you like learning a little more about my canon quizzy! :)

NAME: Verana-Kathryn Trevelyan

AGE: 28 in 9:41 Dragon

GENDER: Female

ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

PROFESSION: Mage and Knight-Enchanter

BACKGROUND:

Verana-Kathryn Trevelyan is the youngest of five children by Bann Eric Roland Trevelyan and Lady Constantia Marilena Trevelyan of Ostwick. Sent off to the Circle at the age of seven, Verana was the second of two mages amongst the children, the other being her slightly older sister, Dawn. Her other siblings are, in order of age, Roland, Ser Donovan Eric, and Jocelyn Constance. Verana’s relationship with her family is almost nonexistent. She has an attachment only to Donovan, whom she adores; she bears no great love for her parents or any of her other siblings. Due to the extremely young age at which she was sent off to the Circle, Verana was essentially raised by the older mages there. She found more parental comfort in her mentors, particularly Senior Enchanter Lydia, than she ever had from her real mother and father. During her tenure at Ostwick’s Circle, neither of Verana’s parents ever wrote to her. Verana’s life in the Circle was rather unremarkable and uneventful, at least until its collapse. The Circle of Ostwick was a calm and quiet corner of Thedas, where Verana honed her skills with storm and spirit magic. Due to her very nearly privileged status as the Bann’s daughter (despite being disowned) she had few true friends – less than a handful. Most of her fellow apprentices were merely casual acquaintances, half of whom were certain she was receiving special treatment because she was of noble blood. It was during her adolescent years, however, that Senior Enchanter Lydia began to take Verana under her wing. The elder mage seemed to sense Verana’s internalized loneliness and took it upon herself to remedy it. As an adult, prior to the collapse of the Ostwick Circle, Verana began to grow content with her lot in life, believing her destiny to serve the Circle for the rest of her days as a researcher and instructor. However, due to her affinity for offensive spells, particularly those revolving around storm magic, Senior Enchanter Lydia began to discuss the opportunity to serve the Circle and Chantry in another way – the way of the Knight-Enchanter. Unfortunately, it would not be long before the collapse of the Circle, after which these studies would be put off until well after she became Inquisitor. Despite her lonely and even sad childhood, Verana has grown into a content and optimistic young woman. Determined to make the best of every bad situation, Verana takes life as it comes and tries not to dwell on the past, nor worry too much about the future. Of course, the latter becomes much more difficult for her as Inquisitor, but she still tries.

PHYSICAL

Body type: Mesomorph, hourglass figure with slightly long legs. Eyes: Blue-violet; Verana’s eyes are more blue towards her pupils, transitioning to purple towards the outside of her irises. On close inspection, it is apparent that they possess both mottling and bright ray patterns. Hair: Black and wavy Skin: Fair ivory complexion with a tendency to tan well Height: 5′5′‘ Weight: 130-135lbs

SKILLS (S.P.E.C.I.A.L + M) 

Strength: 6/10 - Verana isn’t the strongest person in the world, but her ordeals after the fall of her Circle and her subsequent activities as first Herald and then Inquisitor have helped her build some muscle since her Circle days. Her training as a Knight-Enchanter has also done much to help. Still, it would not be wise to rely on her for raw strength if really needed.

Perception: 8/10 - Verana is usually good at picking out differences or oddities, but she is especially perceptive when it comes to magic. The Anchor has given her an almost “sixth sense” regarding magic, and she can detect subtle differences in Veil strength and the influence of the Fade.

Endurance: 7/10 - Running around first the Free Marches and then the Hinterlands has done a lot to build up her endurance levels. Her stamina is better than her raw physical strength.

Charisma: 8/10 - Noble visitors to Skyhold often find the Inquisitor to be quite charismatic and sharp in conversation, although she doesn’t hesitate to let them know in not-so-subtle ways when they have crossed a line.

Intelligence: 9/10 - Verana is a nerdy bookworm. That’s all there is to it. Had the Circle remained intact, she might never have developed her skills outside of academic ones. She still loves reading, and loves learning more about the world around her, especially different cultures.

Agility: 5/10 - Despite her coordination in combat and her ability to wield a staff and spirit blade simultaneously, Verana isn’t too agile in any other circumstance. Her training doesn’t really allow for situations when sheer agility or dexterity would be needed, and so this skill has gone more than a little neglected.

Luck: 8/10 - Somehow, some way, Verana has managed to cheat death on countless occasions. Despite landing in precarious circumstances, she manages to escape intact. Whether or not it is divine intervention or just sheer luck, she doesn’t know. And she’s not sure she wants to.

It might be 10/10 if she had chosen to accept Cullen’s coin. Even though she’s not that superstitious, she couldn’t allow herself to rob him of perhaps his only source of luck and the very thing that’s helped him survive so much. In her eyes, she has more than enough.

Magic: 10/10  - Mage + Knight-Enchanter + unexplainable Mark from the Fade = magic overload.

LIKES

Colors - Black, white, gold, silver, and dark purples, blues, and greens. Occasionally russet and burgundy.

Smells - Floral scents, especially orchids, irises, and lilies.

Food - Verana has a weakness for pastries, especially ones filled with sugared fruit.

Fruit - Strawberries, blueberries, and apples

Drinks - Wines (particularly Tevinter vintages)

OTHER

Smoke: No Drugs: No Driver’s license? She can ride a horse well, but was mostly self taught.

I tag: @ariannadi ; @a-shakespearean-in-paris ; @soulventure91

No pressure, of course! :)

[roguelioness]

Elena Trevelyan

Origins Parents: Bann Trevelyan [father], Jocelyn Trevelyan [mother] Siblings: Leonara Trevelyan [sister], Samuel Trevelyan [brother], Maurice Trevelyan [brother], Colin Trevelyan [brother] Elena was the youngest of Bann Trevelyan’s children, promised to the Chantry at birth. However, one cold winter morning when she was twelve years old, she was discovered to have magical abilities and was promptly shipped off to the Circle of Ostwick. Upon joining the Inquisition, she chose to specialize as a knight-enchanter. Circle of Ostwick Elena was an intelligent student, though her noble birth - and her family’s connections to the Chantry and the templars meant that she was afforded many privileges within the Circle. Her brothers went on to become Templars, and though they were not stationed at Ostwick, their influence meant that the Templars in Ostwick often turned a blind eye to her activities. This earned her the ire and scorn of her fellow mages, though her instructors were well pleased with her. She passed her Harrowing with ease, though it was whispered quietly amongst the others that her test had been easier than most. Elena did not bother to fight the rumors - her Harrowing had been arduous, and if people thought to underestimate her, it was to their detriment, not hers. The Conclave She was pleased to serve as a mediator in the war between the mages and the templars, knowing that her ties to both would serve her well. She believed that mages required Templar supervision, and that many mages did not know their own power and so required guardians to protect them from themselves, and to protect the innocent.

Upon receiving the mark, she was only too happy with the title of ‘Herald of Andraste’, genuinely believing that she had been chosen by the Maker to serve his purpose. Relationship with companions Cassandra Pentaghast - she got along very well with the Seeker, the two of them finding common ground in their belief in the Maker. Seeker Pentaghast generally approved of Elena’s readiness to spring into action, though she did not understand Elena’s fondness for The Game.

Iron Bull - Elena was friendly enough with Iron Bull, but was always wary of him. She was only too willing to sacrifice the Chargers to secure an alliance with the Qunari, believing it to be the best for Thedas. She would later come to deeply grieve this decision, however, and considered it her biggest failure.

Blackwall - she got along well with Blackwall, having a great respect for the Grey Wardens; however after his revelation, she lost all trust in him. Though she rescued him from the dungeons of Val Royeaux, she ordered him to serve the Inquisition before joining the Order.

Vivienne - Elena was close friends with Madame de Fer, the two united in their belief that the Circles and the Templars were a necessity. Elena would go on to support Vivienne in her bid to become the next Divine.

Solas - she butted heads often with the elven apostate, the two rarely seeing eye-to-eye on many matters. She did her best to free his friend from the bindings, and was genuinely sad when she wasn’t able to, but she refused to let him take the life of the mages she considered innocent. However, they had a tentative friendship at the end. 

Dorian Pavus - she was great friends with Dorian, the two often meeting to play chess and gossip. It was Dorian who gave her the courage to pursue a relationship with Cullen, who she’d been attracted to but had considered off-limits due to his Templar past. She consoled Dorian after he met his father, though she privately believed he should have spoken with the man.

Varric Tethras - she got along very well with Varric, often joking around with him, and dubbing him her official biographer.

Sera - Elena found Sera immature and annoying, but was happy to use her connections with the Red Jennies to further the Inquisition’s reputation. She refused to let her kill Lord Harmond, instead forcing the nobleman to serve the Inquisition.

Cole - Elena did not trust Cole, though she let herself be persuaded by Solas to let him remain in the Inquisition. Though she recognized his superior assassin skills, it only made her more nervous around him, believing he could turn on her at any time. When presented the opportunity, she opted to make him more human, which allowed her to relax around him.

Romance Elena was attracted to Commander Cullen, though she was hesitant to pursue anything more than friendship, believing that he wouldn’t be able to overlook her abilities. Encouraged by Dorian, she let herself flirt with him, and was ecstatic to learn that her feelings were reciprocated. She supported Cullen in his quest to quit lyrium, though she feared for him daily, and she wore his coin around her neck when she faced Corypheus in the final battle.

Major decisions Mages or Templars - Approached the Templar Order as her brothers were templars. She chose to ally with them, believing the Order was needed to protect the people of Thedas. Hawke or Stroud - Left Hawke in the Fade, knowing that the Wardens would need a leader to return them to the right path. Grey Wardens - Chose to ally with the Wardens, believing that they would be needed on the small chance that Corypheus triggered a Blight. Halamshiral - Reunited Empress Celene and Briala. Recruited Florianne as an agent, though she had the disgraced former Grand Duchess executed quietly after she had served her worth. Temple of Mythal - Refused to complete the rituals, believing them to be an affront to her faith, and as a result was forced to fight the Sentinels. She opted to let Morrigan drink from the Well as she thought the geas was too much of a risk for her to chance.

Trespasser Elena was forced to turn against her former comrade-in-arms, and mourned the death of Iron Bull deeply. She chose to kill Ataashi, not wanting the Qunari to use the dragon in the future. She felt incredibly betrayed by Solas, and the knowledge that the elven apostate was, in fact, an elven God lead her to a personal crisis of faith; she began to doubt the tales the Chantry said of Andraste and the Maker. She vowed to hunt him down and kill him at all costs, fearing that if she did not, everyone and everything she knew and loved would be destroyed. She chose to create a peacekeeping Inquisition, knowing that its resources would be needed in tracking him down and willing to risk the chance of his spies.

The only silver lining in the madness was that she was able to quietly marry Cullen, and adopt a mabari with him.

[servantofclio]

How about 12, 13, and 14? Please and thank you :D

12. Brainiest VS Brawniest. These are both going to be DA characters: Maeve Surana, tiny elven mage, is the most cerebral and intellectual. I’m giving Simon Trevelyan the nod for brawniest, since he’s a six-foot warrior, although Coran Aeducan would also be a contender.

13. Most forgiving VS Most grudgeful. Most forgiving: Aderyn Hawke is tremendously kind and forgiving almost to a fault. Most grudgeful: Coran Aeducan never forgets a slight.

14. Physical vices (drugs, sex, alcohol) VS Spiritual vices (Lust, wrath, envy). Yikes! This one is tough. Um, Jocelyn Hawke definitely drinks too much, so I’ll name her for physical vices. Spiritual vices, I’ll hand to Alex Shepard and all his not-entirely-repressed anger.

[aliemah]

Realized a quarter of the way through my playthrough of Inquisition all my choices from Origins and 2 didn't transfer... so I forced myself to start over...

Y'all Jocelyn Trevelyan II is so gorgeous... She's gonna destroy this fuckin Breach AND all the dick Thedas has to offer.

[dreadwolfish]

"You did everything we asked of you." "And it still didn't work."

[drbibliophile]

Sunday Love 11-1-20

Prompt:  Rose tinted glasses 

Word count:  1460 

Trigger warnings:  brief mention of non-consensual kissing, brief mention of non-consensual sex, short description of consensual kissing.  

For @sunday-romance and @viawrites-andacts 

NaNoWriMo has begun.  This is from what I’ve finally decided to be the project, though honestly, anything can change.  Trevelyan likes to think he’s a hard man.  Truth is, he’s pretty soft inside.  So it goes.  

Trevelyan stretched his neck and felt a satisfying pop.  The ache in his shoulder eased, but persisted.  He picked up the washcloth from the hot water, squeezed it out, and set it over his shoulder.  It helped.  He stretched and moved his neck from side to side.  Perhaps he should have ordered a bath.  He had a multitude of sore spots that would do well with some heat.  Yet, he hadn’t asked for it.  He was accustomed to doing his camp bath.  He sighed and dropped the cloth into the hot water.  Perhaps another time.  He wiped his face.  

A knock on his door stilled him.  He frowned.  He was bathing.  Short of an attack, no one was to intrude.  It was his time to be by himself.  No William.  No Marcus.  No one.  Just him.  Yet, someone was knocking.  Before he could protest, the door opened.  He whipped a towel around his waist in time for William to shuffle into the room.  He shot his squire an angry look.  The young man’s face crumpled into remorse.  

“My apologies, Your Grace.”  He glanced back behind the door.  “I know you do not wish to be bothered, but… ummm… well…”

“But I’m making him bother you,” Jocelyn announced as she strode into the room.  “So save the tongue-lashing for me and not poor William.”  

“What are you doing here?”  he snapped. 

“Making sure you have a proper bath.”  She opened the door wider.  Two servants brought in a bathing tub that they set by his fireplace.  Another two brought in buckets of water to fill it.  

“I don’t need this,” he said.  

“Yes, you do.”  

He scowled.  “No, I don’t.”  

“Yes, you do.”  She crossed her arms over her chest as more servants came with more water and other items.  “I watched you at the training grounds.” 

That revelation surprised him.  It also pleased him far more than it should.  Yet the revelation raised a whole host of questions.  “Why?” he asked before he could think of wisdom of it.  

“Because you need a good soak in hot water.”  

Irritation swelled that she didn’t answer the question he wanted.  Then again, why would she?  Reasonable for her to assume that he was asking her about the bath, not why she watched him earlier.  If he wanted the answer to that question, he’d have to ask her.  He opened his mouth to ask, but decided against it.  He didn’t want to know the answer.  He really didn’t.   

“Whatever makes you say that?”  

She arched an eyebrow up.  “As I said, Wexton, I watch you at the training grounds.  You need this bath.”  

Irritation flared again.  “I’m not a child.”  

“Never said you were.”  

“You’re deciding how I’m to clean myself.” 

“I’m deciding that a full bath would do you more good than a camp bath.”   

He scowled, disliking the truth in her words.  “I like bathing this way.”  

“Really?”  Her tone dripped skepticism.    

“Yes.” 

“And when was the last time you actually sat in a tub of hot water for a bath?”  He frowned, struggling to find the memory.  Irritated, he shook his head.  “You don’t remember,” she observed.  

“Doesn’t matter”. 

“Oh, it most definitely matters.”  

“Why?”  

“Because.”  

He waited for her to elaborate.  She just stood there, as if her one word answer explained everything.  “That explains nothing.”  

She smirked.  “Actually, it explains everything.”  

“No, it doesn’t.”  

“Of course it does.”  

“No.  It does not.”  

Her smirk slid into a grin.  “Oh, it most certainly does.”  Her grin widened.  “Particularly since it’s distracted you for long enough to get the tub filled with water.”  She gestured to it.  “Seems a shame to have the servants undo all of their work.”  

He narrowed his eyes at her.  She had him and they both knew it.  His scowl deepened.  “Fine.  You can go.”  

She shook her head.  “No.”  

“No?”  

“No, and don’t claim modesty, Wexton.  You can keep that towel around you and I promise I won’t look.”  Disappointment surged through him.  He tamped it down hard.  She turned to William.  “Thank you, William.  That will be all for now.  I’ll attend to the duke.”  William nodded, sparing his duke an encouraging look before closing the door firmly behind him.  “Right.  Into the tub with you.”   

He didn’t move.  The disappointment that she promised she wouldn’t look flustered him and he didn’t like it.  Why?  What was she planning?  He mentally shook himself. He had to take control of the situation.  Now.  Before it was too late.  The disturbing thought of too late for what flitted through his mind before he chased it away.  

“No.”  

“Yes.”  

He frowned.  He was the duke.  She should be listening to him and yet she wasn’t.  What was she doing?  Gods, he wished he knew.  That was the trouble with Jocelyn.  He so often didn’t know what he was doing with her or her with him.  He didn’t.  She didn’t act like anyone else.  She just seemed to do what she willed and right now she willed to have him in a bath.  

“Why?”  he asked again, hating it and yet the word just kept slipping out.  She rolled her eyes in response.  “Trying to seduce me?”  

She snorted.  “Wexton, if I wanted to seduce you, I’d be naked on your bed, or at least in something more appealing than this.”  

She gestured over the plain blue tunic she wore over a gray shirt and loose fitting leather pants.  Unbidden, his eyes followed her hands.  They lingered over the skin at the base of her throat, perfectly framed by her shirt.  His eyes caught the curve of her breasts and hips, barely hinted at under her clothes.  Those hints enticed him, making him want to strip her of her clothes until she was naked on his bed.  The fantasy surprised him.  He pulled his eyes from her.  Whatever made him think that?  

“So rest assured that I’m not here to seduce you.”  She set her hand on his shoulder and turned him to the tub.  “Go.”  

Her touch was fire on his skin.  Want raced through him, catching him off guard.  His eyes traced over her face, the angles of her cheeks, the curve of her lips, the bright amusement in her amber eyes.  They stopped on her mouth.  His mouth dried.  He wanted to kiss her hard, senseless, speechless except for the sweet moan of her pleasure in his ears.  The thought shocked him as much as it made him ache.  A kiss to taste how sweet she was and how delicious.  It would be a long kiss, hard, deep, his tongue caressing hers, feeding on her mouth like it was a favored treat.  He could imagine it.  Gods did he want that kiss.  

He mentally shook himself, hoping he hadn’t embarrassed himself or her by his thoughts.  She still had that smug look on her face.  Gods, now he wanted to kiss that smugness from her.  He forced his eyes away.  He needed to stop thinking these thoughts.  He straightened, desperate to be in control again.  

“Rather dangerous for you to be alone with me, don’t you think?”  

She laughed.  “Oh, most definitely not.”  He frowned in confusion.  Her smile stretched wider.  “Don’t look at me like that, Wexton.  We both know that you’re not one to force yourself on anyone, even if you did find them naked on your bed.”  

A perverse desire to grab her, to make her fear him in some way, flowed through him.  He stalked towards her.  All he had to do was take her, show her that he wasn’t who she thought he was.  He was faster, stronger.  It would be easy.  She could fight him, but he would prevail.  He knew it.  He could ravage her, do with her as he willed, and none would gainsay him.  He was the King’s Enforcer.  Ruthless.  Hard.  Dangerous.  Even cruel.  He had to be.  He needed people to fear him.  That was his work, his duty to his king.  Yet she didn’t take a step back.  No fear touched her face.  She just stood her ground like she always did.  

“So certain of me?”  

“Yes.”  

Instantly the desire was gone, undone by the simple conviction in that single word.  He couldn’t trespass against her belief in him.  Gods, why?  Why did her opinion of him matter?  “Bound and determined to see me in a rose colored light, aren’t you?”  

She shook her head.  “Far worse, Wexton.  I’m determined to see you as you are.”  

He believed her.  It frightened him as much as it delighted him.  “What if you’re wrong?”  he asked quietly.  

Her amusement faded, replaced by an emotion he didn’t want to name.  “I’m willing to take that chance.”   

[angels-and-scarves]

Jocelyn Trevelyan for badwolf626.