#never been called ''lady'' before ( blackwall )
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Gonna wambo combo you from the Sexual Tension Prompt list for Thalia/Blackwall for "[ BRUSH ] : Character A reaches forward to brush a strand of Character Bâs hair from their eyes." and "[ WET ] : The characters find one another in a torrential downpour of rain, both soaking wet." >:]
ALL RIGHT OKAY IT'S THACKWALL HORNY HOURS TONIGHT
For @dadrunkwriting
WC: 1525
Strap in, I also managed to shove in the following prompts:
sleeve rolling (thanks @theluckywizard)
public touching and pretending to be a couple (thanks @oxygenforthewicked)
pushing against a wall and kissing without warning (thanks @oxygenforthewicked AND @about2dance)
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She sits beside him on the table heâs set up for woodworking. They talk late into the evening, the air in the stables going cold when the sun goes down. Thaliaâs face stays warm, watching the way Blackwall works with his hands. Heâs deft and sure in everything he does, each stroke and every nail. She watches his fingers, large and calloused as they are, and wonders. Her stomach flips, not unpleasantly.Â
At one point, he rolls his sleeves to the elbow and catches her looking at the naked flesh.Â
âLike what you see, my lady?âÂ
She thinks he might be smirking. She slides off the table, onto her feet. She tries to bring herself back to earth.Â
âIâm terribly late for dinner.â Sheâs stuttering over her words, like a damned schoolgirl.Â
She can feel his eyes on her back with every stride through the courtyard she takes.Â
â
At a tavern in an unfriendly village, they need information. The commonfolk are hostile toward Grey Wardens, it seems; they feel abandoned by those who came through before, then left in the name of the False Calling.Â
âWhy do you ask?â says the barkeep, eyes narrowed across the counter. âYou one of âem?âÂ
âMe? Never.â Blackwall laughs long and hard, terribly convincing. âItâs just that me and the missus are mighty curious about where theyâve gone. Her brother, you see, joined up a few years ago. She pines for him something fierce, donât you, love?â
His gaze is upon her, expectant. Thalia hunches over in her barstool, hoping her blush isnât visible in the dim torchlight. âThatâs right,â she says softly. âIf anything happened to him, Iâd never forgive myself.âÂ
She canât conceive of this world, where she would care enough to pursue a lost brother. But then, she canât fathom being married to Blackwall, either. He reaches over and places a hand on the nape of her neck, laying it on thick for the barkeep, and her heart thumps and thumps. Grey Wardens have relationships sometimes, right? The Hero of Ferelden would have married Good King Alistair, if he hadnât sacrificed himself ending the last Blight. Itâs been known to happen.
She rests her hand on the wrist Blackwall uses to cup his stein of ale. Her fingers tingle. This is an act, of course. Isnât it?Â
The barkeep watches them long and hard. Then he breaks into a toothless smile, accompanied by a salty laugh. âThisâs your wife? Howâd you manage that, you old dog?âÂ
âAh, well, you know. She keeps me young.â Blackwall winks.Â
âI bet she does.â The barkeepâs gaze lingers on them a touch too long, and Thalia doesnât know whether sheâs mortified or pleased. Maybe a little of both.
Outside the tavern, after mulling over the leads theyâve been given, Thalia glances upward at Warden Blackwallâs face, so unreadable in the gathering dark. âIs it really so hard to believe?â
âWhat? You nâ me, my lady?âÂ
She feels his eyes upon her; it is not, strictly speaking, the look an honorable knight gives a lady. She knows this, and she likes it, to some degree. He is a bit older than her â so what? Girls her age â and below â married men of advanced age all the time.Â
âI couldââ She grasps for something clever and witty to say. ââKeep you young. Like you said.âÂ
Blackwall lets out a hearty laugh. âBegging your pardon, but you speak like you donât know what that means.â
âI know what it means!â Thalia huffs.Â
Blackwall stands over her, close enough to touch. âBut youâve neverâŚ?â
Now sheâs mortified for sure. âThatâs not an appropriate question to ask a lady.â She storms past him, toward their camp, before this gets out of hand.Â
She thinks she hears him chuckling in the dark behind her.Â
â
Thalia never knew it could rain so hard in the desert. The Western Approachâs sky, she thought, would forever be an endless, scorching blue. But the clouds roll in without warning, a dark purplish grey. The rain falls in torrents, turning the sands to mud and drenching her in seconds. She runs for shelter in the awning of an ancient fortress, tumbledown stones persisting for hundreds of years.Â
She lets her hair down, pulling fingers through the long, tangled strands, wringing it out like a cloth. There is satisfaction to the lightness that ensues. The air, likewise, possesses a strange, clean scent, as if the landscape itself has been wiped clean by the downpour.Â
She hears a throat clearing behind her. Thalia snaps her head up; Blackwall stands in the dark of the archway, similarly soaked. His grey eyes almost seem to glow as their gazes meet.Â
Thalia gasps and turns away, her hair long and limp over her shoulders, hanging heavy to her waist. He saw! He isnât supposed to see! She trembles, suddenly freezing as the wind picks up and hits her clammy skin.Â
âF-forgive me, Warden Blackwall,â she says through chattering teeth. âIn Ostwick, highborn girls are not to let men â unmarried men â see them with their hair down. Itâs beyond scandalous.âÂ
She feels silly saying this out loud, but itâs true â despite knowing, intellectually, other women do this all the time, she feels as though he caught her with her trousers down and canât bear to look at him. She scrambles for the rock wall, trying to get out of sight so she can plait her hair again and pin it back up and at last be able to face him.Â
His hand grasps her shoulder. Thalia freezes, her heart pounding. Water drips off her nose and chin, and her breath stutters.Â
âStrange customs theyâve got in Ostwick,â Blackwall mumbles low in her ear. His fingers trace their way to the nape of her neck. He draws the hair away from her skin, tantalizingly slow. A warm tingling shoots down Thaliaâs spine to her toes. âI thought the cheese wheel chase was the height of it.âÂ
Thalia forces herself to face him. Heâs so handsome, painfully so, with hair that shines black and the mighty beard and the distinguished lines of his face. Sheâs no doubt heâs known many women â she can sense this in his confidence, which comes out when she least expects it. Like now. She swallows hard and tentatively puts her hand on the damp sleeves of his gambeson.Â
âI like the cheese wheel chase,â is all she can think to say, like an idiot.Â
Blackwall lets out a laugh. âNever said I didnât like it.â His hand cups her face, and Thalia thinks she might perish. Is she dreaming this? It wouldnât be the first time. âTell me, my lady â what happens when an unmarried man spies an Ostwick maid with her hair down?âÂ
âThereâs, ah, varying stories.âÂ
âOf course there are.â
âIn some of them, the girl and offending voyeur must get married on the spot.âÂ
Blackwall chuckles. âShame thereâs no Chantry mother in this forsaken desert. Makes it difficult to say vows.âÂ
âIn others, the girl is branded a harlot and cast out from her household.âÂ
Blackwallâs eyebrows shoot upward. âBit harsh, isnât it?â
Thalia swallows hard. âI didnât come up with these tales!âÂ
âWhat if thereâs no one to see their transgression?â His hands have moved, one to the small of her back, the other to her collarbone, just above her left breast. âWhat if itâs just him and her, and they can do whatever they like, and no one will be the wiser?âÂ
Thaliaâs heart races. âIâ ah, itâs hard â to sayââ
He pushes her against the stone wall and kisses her. He tastes of rainwater and smells, faintly, of the woodsmoke that wafted off that morningâs campfire. The weight of him against her through damp fabric feels both exciting and dangerous. She worries he can tell sheâs never done this before, but with a groan he deepens the kiss, the hand squeezing her breast, and she realizes that perhaps he doesnât care. Sheâs not sure she does either.Â
She tangles her fingers in the wet hair at the nape of his neck and tests out leaning into him as they kiss. She feels him respond immediately, and knows with a thrill of trepidation they really could do anything they wanted â who would bear witness? The desolate sand?Â
ââBloody fuck.â Blackwall tears himself away with a violent wrench, leaving Thalia grasping for the wall behind her, dizzy.
âIâm sorryâ did Iâ do something wrong?â She rakes the hair from her eyes, her desire curdling in her belly.Â
âWe shouldnât be doing this,â Blackwall growls.Â
âThat is, I think, what I was trying to say earlier.â Is this a joke? Thalia feels a strange desire to laugh. âBut you were going on about cheese wheelsâŚâ
âYouâve no idea how enticing you are, do you?â His voice sounds, somehow, both reverent and repulsed. âHow bloody enchanting?âÂ
Thalia does not know how to answer that.Â
He cackles again, though the mirth is gone, and turns away, scrubbing the water from his face with his palm. Thalia reaches forward, taking his elbow, and tries to think of what to say that wonât wreck everything.Â
#blackwall x trevelyan#thalia trevelyan#blackwall#yeah idk this definitely isn't canon#stopping here so i can decide later if i wanna escalate fully into smut#but lmaoo haven't written them in awhile#this was fun#dragon age drunk writing circle#fics
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if you give it a name, then itâs already won
1.5k, blackwall/cadash. after the breach is sealed, the man who calls himself blackwall shares a moment and a dance with the herald of andraste.
Hours before it is lost, there is dancing in Haven.
Blackwall isnât with the Herald as she and the mages close the Breach, but even down in the village itâs obvious the moment she succeeds. With a blaze of light and energy, the sky stitches itself back together before his very eyes. For the first time in months, the green, angry menace above settles. Scarred, still, a reminder of what happened here, but quiet at last.
The villagers have already begun drinking by the time the Herald returns from the temple. A wild cheer erupts at her approach, and though Blackwall intends to congratulate her, he quickly loses sight of her in a gaggle of admirers. Probably for the best, that. Tonight is for her, and she hardly needs him interrupting her festivities.
That thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he hurries to find himself a drink before he can dwell too much on things that arenât for him. Today was a victory, for the Inquisition and for the world. Heâll focus on that, not on the way heâs itching to find the Herald in the crowd, to see her grin up at him when their eyes meet, to run his hands over her andâ
Well. So much for not dwelling on it.
The fact of the matter is, theyâve been... flirting. Heâs almost certain she isnât serious; she flirts with him like itâs a light-hearted reflex, just part of her charm, and he should know better than to respond in kind. Easier said than done, though, when their banter comes so easily, when she smirks when she catches him watching her, when he hears her laugh as they take down demons together, all exhilarated adrenaline.
Heâs not courting her. He hardly knows her, really, and he does know full-well how unworthy he is of even attempting such a thing. But itâs a pleasant fantasy to indulge in from time to time, that a woman like her might see something in him, of all people.Â
âThere you are.â
Blackwall just about jumps out of his skin. As if summoned by his thoughts of her, the Herald of Andraste herself stands at his side. Sheâs changed out of her armor into casual clothes, carrying a drink in one hand and a half-eaten plate of food in the other. Her face is still smudged with what must be soot from the Temple, and he pushes down the urge to reach out and wipe it off for her. She looks tired, he thinks.
âI havenât seen you all night,â she says. âWas starting to think youâre avoiding me.â
âNever, my lady,â he manages once he finds his tongue. âAre you enjoying the festivities?â
âSure, as long as they keep the ale flowing.â
The mug in her hand looks nearly untouched, but he decides against pointing that out.
âI believe congratulations are in order,â he says instead. âYou did a great thing tonight.â
She smiles, but there's something almost sad about itâand when did he become so good at reading her expressions? âMy hand did, you mean. And the mages.â She seems to catch herself, looking inexplicably annoyed for a moment before continuing. âButâyouâre right. We did good.âÂ
âAre you alright?â He ventures.
âSure as stone. Why?â
âI suppose I expected you to be celebrating. You did, after all, just accomplish what weâve all been hoping for.â
âI know that,â she snaps, then sighs. âSorry. Just tired.â
âYou donât have to talk to me," he says slowly. "But I will listen, if you do.âÂ
She looks at him for a moment, as if deciding whether she wants to say anything, then seems to come to a decision. âIâm fine. Just thinking about what happens next, now that Iâve done my part.â
âIâm no expert, but I donât get the impression that this whole mess is over. Do you?â
âNo. But they brought me in to close the Breach. Half the Chantry still wants me in chains, and Iâm fairly certain the Carta will tell me to sod right off if I go crawling back, soâŚâ She grimaces. "It's Inquisition or dust for me, I think. I just hope I still have a job now my bit's done."
"The Inquisition would be mad to let the Herald of Andraste go. And regardless, surely you realize you're far more to these people that just your mark."
She glances down at the mark in question, still sparking with light underneath the leather glove she wears. "Still hard to believe sometimes. All this for someone like me." "Breach or no, the people still need you. The Inquisition still needs you." And then, because he's been drinking and he's feeling rather bold, he adds, "And, for what it's worth, I still want you. Here, I mean. I still want you here, helping."
She raises one scarred eyebrow at him, pointedly enough that he feels himself blush. "Right."
He'll gladly put his foot in his mouth a thousand times, if it brings back that little half-grin of hers. Seeing a ghost of it now, he gestures out towards the gathered crowd of dancers. âCome on. Tonight is for you; it would be a shame if you didn't enjoy it."
The Herald snorts, a surprised and undignified thing that makes him grin. âWhat, you want to dance? I've been told I have two left feet, you know."
"I'll be the judge of that, my lady. If you'll allow me."
"Oh, fuck it." She tips her mug back and downs her drink with impressive speed for someone her size. "Lead the way."
He extends a hand to her and she takes it with a smirk. This is foolish, he knows; just about all of Haven is out here tonight, and people will talk. She hardly needs that kind of rumor on her plate. But once her hand is in his, heâll be damned if he lets go.
With a half-bow towards her, he leads her into a dance. Heâs never danced with a dwarf before, and has to adjust a bit for her height, but itâs easy to get used to her. As though all that time spent twirling around ridiculous Orlesian ballrooms a lifetime ago was merely a lead-up to her.  Â
Despite her initial protests, the Herald is a fast learner, and soon sheâs laughing breathlessly as he spins her. He finds that he doesnât care about the people watching, the whispers that will surely come, the voice in the back of his head telling him he doesn't deserve this; in this moment, she's the only thing that matters.
The dance is over too soon, and as they come to a halt they're both smiling like a pair of fools.
"How'd I do?" The melancholy of a few moments earlier is vanished from her face now, her eyes bright and shining with mirth.
"You're a natural, Lady Cadash." Caught up in the moment, acting more on instinct than anything else, he catches one of her hands in his and presses it to his lips.
Too far. He knows it instantly, as her eyes snap up to meet his, open wide with surprise. He drops her hand and takes a hasty step backwards, but she follows, so close theyâre nearly pressed against each other. It would be damnably easy to do something unwise in this moment. Sheâs closed most of the distance herself; all he has to do is lean down and brush his lips against hers.
No. He shakes his head to help clear it, although he can't quite bring himself to move away again. âIâI forget myself.â
The Herald's voice is low, meant just for him. âI think I like it when you forget yourself, Warden Blackwall.â
The moment is broken with the sound of that name. Heâs long-since gotten used to it, thinks of it more than he thinks of the name he was born with, and on most days hearing it reminds him of the sort of man he wants to be. Tonight, itâs a reminder of why he shouldnât be doing this. The Herald of Andraste, this remarkable woman with the world at her feet, deserves far better than a lying, murderous fraud.
He takes another step back, and this time she doesn't follow. "I'm sorry,â he mutters.
He thinks he might see disappointment flash briefly on her face, but she only shrugs. âDonât apologize. This was the best part of my night.â
âGiven what youâve accomplished tonight, perhaps you need to reevaluate your priorities, my lady.â
He means to say it lightheartedly, but he must have struck a nerve, judging by the way her eyes narrow. "Perhaps you need to figure out what you want, Warden," she says sharply. "Come find me if you do."
She stalks off, and he watches her go. She's joined by Cassandra a moment later, and he turns away.
Maker, heâd wanted to kiss her. He almost had kissed her, and sheâd looked at him like sheâd wanted him to. She's wrong; he knows exactly what he wants, he's just desperately fighting a losing battle against it.Â
When the alarm bell starts ringing, it's almost a relief.
#dragon age: inquisition#dragon age fic#inquisitor cadash#cadash#blackwall#blackwall x cadash#cleo writes#amber cadash#anyway. i saw a post a while ago about how the immediate tension between cadash and blackwall at skyhold#makes it feel like something happened between them at haven#and this has been rotating in my mind ever since#anyway if it hasn't been obvious from my blog lately i'm kinda obsessed with this relationship#and the whole hot and cold thing they have going on in the early days is very fun
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"Dear Commander" - Chapter Ten: The Things You Find In Ferelden
Cullen x Trevelyan
AO3 MASTERLIST
The Herald and her companions search The Hinterlands and things get a little heated in Haven.
The screams became distant and the explosions that echoed in the valley gave way to the sound of leaves crunching underfoot. Birds sang sweet melodies and trees rustled with a gentle breeze. It was incredible how untouched and peaceful this little pocket of land had remained amongst the chaos of war.
Dorian was the first to break the silence of the group as they trudged up the mountain. âI must admit, Cassandra, I've never heard of these âSeekers of Truthâ."
â Why would you?â Cassandra replied. She was walking a little further ahead of the others and didnât bother to face Dorian when she spoke. â They do not exist in Tevinter.â
âBut what are they? Some manner of super-Templar? Is this one of those Southern secrets, like proper hygiene?â Dorian and Juliette exchanged a grin and they waited for Cassandra to react.
A faint grunt of frustration could be heard before she answered, âOnce, we worked from the shadows, monitoring Templars and mages alike.â
âAh. That clearly worked out well.â
âDorian!â, Juliette said under her breath with a gasp. He just smiled, proudly.
âYour glibness does you no credit,â Cassandra muttered and began to walk faster. âThe Mage Rebellion was beyond even our power to control.â
âGood job, Tevinter! Now sheâs shot off even faster. Iâm struggling to keep up as it is.â Juliette whined.
âYouâll live, Lady Herald,â he smirked.
âThatâs it! Iâm pulling the dwarf card,â Varric said, jogging ahead. âHey, Seeker! Wanna slow it down for those of us with shorter legs?â
Julietteâs smile lingered while she watched Varric and Cassandra move further ahead. She faced Dorian, seeing a long awaited opportunity. âDorian?â she spoke quietly.
âOoh, hushed whispers,â he replied with excitement. âWhat, pray tell, secrets has our Herald to share?â
âNone. I wanted to ask something of you?â
âIâm listening.â
âCould you, by chance, happen to help me⌠fight?â Juliette cringed, awkwardly.
âArenât you already training?â
âYeah,â Juliette scoffed. âWith one of Cullenâs friends. An ex-Templar teaching a mage combat? Itâs just not right.â
âCullen has friends?â Dorian asked dramatically. âYou are correct, that is not right.â
Juliette playfully shoved his shoulder. âThatâs not what I mean. â She drew in a deep breath and continued walking ahead. âI just feel like Iâve been set up for failure. Itâs magic that I should be fighting with. I tried asking Solas for adviceâŚâ She looked up at Dorian and a faint smile swept cross her face. âWell, I stopped listening after a while.â
âHmm,â he thought out loud, drawing out the humming noise.
âOh, come on! Iâve seen how youâŚâ She waved her hands around, mimicking his moves. âWhat you do with your staff - itâs mesmerizing!â
âBrilliance just canât be taught!â
âOh, please Dorian!â
âOh, those puppy eyes, Herald!â He mocked, stepping closer to her. He reached his hand to her head and gently pulled out a twig that was tangled in her hair. Julietteâs eyes widened with surprise when she noticed what he was doing. âYouâre adorable. I was almost convinced to help you.â
Following the map that Leliana had marked, the group arrived at the top of the hill. Before them, a lake shimmered like a sheet of glass in the afternoon sun. The area seemed uninhabited , save for a small, run-down cabin just off the lake.
âI can hear voices,â Cassandra said, reaching for her sword. âThis must be the spot.â
As they drew closer, they witnessed what seemed to be soldiers training.
âRemember how to carry your shield. Youâre not hiding, you're holding.â
Cassandra looked to Juliette as though inviting her to act. She nodded to Cassandra and drew in a deep breath. âBlackwall!â she called out. âWarden Blackwall?â
The man spun around in an instant and charged towards Juliette, sword drawn. âYouâre notâŚâ he snapped hastily. He hesitated and lowered his sword once looking at her. âHow do you know my ââ
The sudden whistle of arrows soaring through the air halted his words and with precise movement, he lifted his shield, catching the arrows that narrowly missed the Heraldâs face. Juliette released a high pitched gasp, startled by the noise. Emerging behind the trees were several men, archers and swordsmen alike.
âThatâs it!â he yelled at her. âHelp or get out! Weâre dealing with these idiots first!â
Barely a moment had passed when Cassandra tore past them, out for blood. Juliette retreated , moving towards Dorian with her staff in hand. She watched in awe as Blackwall effortlessly cut men down with a single swing of his sword. âI wasnât here to fight!â he screamed out above the noise. Focusing on the outer edges of the battle zone, Juliette channeled weak bursts of flame from her staff.
âAlright, Iâll oblige.â Dorian yelled to Juliette. âFor a circle trained mage, youâre quite shit at magic arenât you?â
âYou donât think I already know that?!â she called back to him, not once taking her eyes off the fight.
âPractice over theory. Follow my lead!â Dorian moved forward, crouching in a stealth position. With a sway to the left, he swung his staff into the back of the head of a mercenary. Before the man could react, Juliette attacked him, copying Dorianâs move perfectly. That second whack to the head had him out cold. She squealed in surprise, unable to believe what she had just done. âThatâs it!â Dorian shouted. âNow, this!â He moved from side to side, twisting his staff at the wrists.
âItâs like dancing!â Juliette said, beaming with a smile. She was conjuring controlled fireballs with precise accuracy!
âBut better, yes?â Dorian grinned. As their attackerâs clothing went up in flames, Dorian threw his head back and laughed manically. âI could do this all day!â
Emerging from the smoke, Blackwall pierced his sword into the ground and knelt beside the final man to fall. âSorry Bastards.â Juliette quickly adjusted her coat and smoothed back her hair, sweeping off ash. She walked over just as Blackwall had finished dismissing the men that he was training. She heard the very last of his orders; âGo back to your families - youâve saved yourselves.â Immediately, he turned his attention back to Juliette. âYouâre no farmer. How do you know my name? Who are you?â
âI know your name because Iâm an agent of The Inquisition.â She placed her hands on her hips, feeling a surge of confidence after the fight. Gaining control over her magic in such a way was exhilarating! â Iâm rather curious about the disappearance of the Wardens and how that could potentially coincide with the murder of The Divine.â
Blackwall began to pace back and forth while she talked. She couldnât tell if he was nervous or just agitated. Either way, their sudden appearance had taken him by surprise. âMakers balls!â he shouted with a gruff voice. His lack of formality was refreshing. âThe Wardens and The Divine, that canât âŚno.â He stared at Juliette with piercing eyes. They looked grey, with hints of blue and she thought that they were beautiful as much as they were intimidating. The lines around his eyes deepened as he inspected her closer. âNo. Youâre asking so you donât really know.â He had called her bluff, yet she still stood with bravado. âWe disappear , thatâs what we do. Job done, gone, right?â
âYou tell me. Youâre The Warden,â she replied.
âNo Warden killed The Divine. Our purpose isnât political.â
âSlow down, Iâm not accusing youâŚnot yet anyway.â She looked around, grasping at straws mentally to plan her next move. âWhereâs the rest of you?â
âI havenât seen any Warden for months. I travel alone, recruiting.â
âOh, alone.â Juliette looked over and Cassandra hoping for some kind of reassurance that she was handling this properly. Instead, The Seeker eyed Blackwall intensely, hand hovering above her sword. Juliette continued, âSeems a rather lonely place to be training conscripts.â
âThereâs no blight, no need to properly train.â
âThen why bother. Why are you out here?â
Blackwall pointed to the bodies lying in the grass. âThese idiots forced this fight, so I conscripted their victims. Next time, they wonât need me.â
âRather heroic.â The sarcastic compliment bounced off him like sunlight to armor.
âGrey Wardens can inspire. Make you better than you think you are.â
Something clicked. He spoke with such self-righteousness that it had reminded her of an Enchanter she once knew. Talented yet self-assured to a fault. Juliette hesitated a moment, weighing up her options and wondering if this new idea that flashed into her mind was worth the risk. She tilted her head to the side and lowered her voice. âWhy havenât you gone missing like the rest of them?â
âWell, maybe I was going to.â
âWell, why donât you?â
He held his stare, intense and unwavering. A small smile tugged at Julietteâs lips. âDo you go around interrogating all men that you find wandering Ferelden?â he asked her, his serious expression beginning to soften.
âOnly the ones with impressive swordsmanship. Though I wonder, what could I do with you ?â
âMy job was to recruit on my own. I planed to stay that way for months. Years.â
Juliette clasped her hands together. âWell, thank you, Warden Blackwall.â She stepped closer and leaned towards him. With barely more than a whisper she asked, ânow where does this leave us?â With knitted brows, Blackwall watched her walk away.
âInquisition!â he shouted. Juliette stopped and began to smirk. âAgent, did you say?â
She turned around and asked smugly, âYes, Warden Blackwall?â
âHold a moment!â He hurried towards her. âThe Divineâs dead, the sky is tornâŚevents like theseâŚthinking weâre absent is almost as bad as thinking weâre involved.â
âYou are absent though, are you not?â
âNo. I donât have to be. Maybe you need a Warden, maybe you need me.â
âYou are but one Grey Warden. What could you do for me?â she folded her arms and smiled, awaiting his response.
âSave the fucking world if pressed.â
Her eyelids fluttered and she stifled laughter. If only he knew that he was speaking to The Herald of Andraste. Perhaps, she was begging to think, that heâd speak to her just the same if he had known.
âMaybe this isnât a blight but itâs bloody well a disaster,â he added.
âAs I am well aware. Tell me, have you any tales of demons falling from the sky? Slain heroically by your hand?â There was a playful glint in her eye when she spoke. âIs that something youâre experienced in?â
âNo, but tell me who is?â
She laughed abruptly at the question. âWouldnât you like to know?â She extended her unmarked hand. âWarden Blackwall, The Inquisition accepts your offer.â
âGood to hear.â He met her handshake before she turned to walk once again. âThis Warden walks with the Inquisition.â
âAnd The Herald of Andraste, it seems.â
With his hands on his hips and a squint to his eyes, Master Dennet looked up at the breach in the sky. âMaker! Itâs worse than I thought!â He turned back to Cullen, who was standing by him at the stable. âI hope you lot can close it.â
âAs do I,â Cullen replied. âAside from the breach, how are you finding Haven?â
âItâs groaning under the weight,â Dennet replied bluntly. âIt wasn't built for this. But we'll make it serve.â
âThat we will. Iâll see to it,â Cullen said, proudly. He looked to the horses. âThese are a fine addition to our stables.â
âI hope itâs enough for The Herald.â
Cullen chuckled, âSheâll be pleased, I assure you.â
âAfter what sheâs done for Ferelden, itâs an honor to be in her service.â Cullen smiled at Dennetâs remark. âAlso, your men, Commander. I applaud their hard work on the watchtowers.â
âThank you,â Cullen replied.
âIt does feel good to be back at work,â Dennet said, picking up a bucket and resuming his duties. âI hope to speak with The Herald when she returns, to thank her myself.â
âIâll send her your way at her earliest convenience,â Cullen nodded and began to walk away. Youâll be seeing her here a lot, no doubt, Cullen thought to himself with a smile.
Towards the end of the afternoonâs drills, Cullen allowed his lieutenant to take over. He had already heard that the Herald and accompanying party were approaching and was ready to slip away to greet them. The sound of The Lieutenantâs voice began to dull as Cullenâs focus drifted. A wistful smile tugged at his lips with the thought of Julietteâs reaction to seeing a full stable for the first time. Sheâd be so happy.
By the time that Cullen had started to approach The Herald at the gates, a small crowd had gathered to greet her. He froze in his tracks when he saw a man walk to the side of Julietteâs horse and offered her his hand, as Cullen had done himself just a week earlier.
Juliette shook her head and with a soft giggle said, âIâm quite capable of dismounting a horse, you know.â
Blackwall responded with rich laughter. âI know, believe me. Although I donât want The Herald of Andraste to think that Iâm no gentleman.â
Dorian stood beside Cullen, looking highly amused. âIt appears that this time you are too late, Commander.â
âI donât know what you are talking about,â Cullen mumbled.
âNo, of course not,â Dorian grinned. âTell me. Have you read my report?â
Cullen groaned in frustration. âCan you try not to embellish the truth in official documents, Dorian?â
âEverything that I said was true, Commander. Including the part where our lovely Lady Heraldâs doe eyes sparkled in the sunlight ââ
âAnd the Warden fell to his knees?â Cullen let out a short, mirthless chuckle, his eyes rolling slightly as he shook his head. âI feared for a moment that your report somehow became mixed with Varricâs.â
âNo, it did really happen! She just walked right up to him in the midst of battle.â Dorian smirked and spoke dramatically, âIt was fascinating to watch!â
Cullen straightened his posture and quietly cleared his throat as Juliette walked towards them. âGood afternoon, Herald,â he said with a nod of his head.
Juliette smiled sweetly. Cullen was relieved to find her in a good mood for a change. âHello, CommanderâŚOh!â she gasped with wide eyes at the sight behind him. Cullenâs face lit up with a smile. Her reaction was just as he expected. He slowly waved his hand in the direction of the stables with a knowing smirk. She looked at him, her face aglow with excitement. âWhen?â she asked, her voice soft and breathy.
âYesterday,â Cullen replied. âMaster Dennet is eager to speak with you, I believe.â
âI shant keep him waiting!â she exclaimed.
Cullen watched as she hurried towards the stables, dodging workers and pilgrims that stood in her path. His smile faltered when he noticed Dorian looking at him closely with folded arms and raised eyebrows.
âYou can leave now,â Cullen muttered before walking away himself.
The wind was strong that night at Haven. From inside Julietteâs cabin, the sound was a constant low rumble causing the timber walls to creak with each gust. The slow burning flame of the fireplace flickered light across the room as Juliette thrashed about in the middle of a nightmare.
I can hear it. The clang of armor. Templars arenât hard to miss.
âJonathan?â my voice is croaky and faint. âWhatâs the matter? Why arenât you in the dining hall?â
Heâs just standing and staring. Itâs frightening me!
âJon?â
He takes a seat on the bench beside me. Iâm terrified that theyâll see us!
âIâm sorry,â his voice is sad and regretful.
âWhat do you mean?â
He grabs my hands and again his voice over and over âIâm sorry.â
Iâm standing, stepping away. âWhy are you sorry? What have you done?â
âIâm sorry.â
âJonathan?â
âIâm sorry.â
âStop saying that!â Tears are falling and my nose is tingling. My mind is racing and my breathâŚitâsâŚ
I canât breathe!
Rustling in the corner, light shining through cracks in the wall! A boy is crouched.
âWho are you? Why are you here?â My voice is screeching, hurting my own ears.
Heâs wearing a hat that is too big. Nobody wears hats here! His face is sunken, darkness under his eyes. He looks like death.
The stranger is scaring me!
âThe pain in your eyes hurt him more than the blade.â
The boy has faded, his words still haunting.
The metallic rasp of a sword unsheathed. A cold blade against my neck.
âIâm sorry.â
Juliette woke to the sound of her own screams. Shaking, she brought her fingertips to her neck and traced a line where the blade once rested.
The next morning, Cullen stood still amongst the lively field of sparring recruits. His eyes caught a glimpse of Juliette leaving the gate. She dragged her feet through the snow and in her hand she carelessly hauled an Inquisition shield. Her head was down as she walked, her shoulders slumped. She looked up, squinting and swatting snow from her eyes. Their gaze met for just a heartbeat before he turned away, leaving Cullen with lingering embarrassment. He didnât mean to stare. She dropped the shield to the ground and made her way towards him.
When Cullen looked back up he noticed her weaving past the soldiers, almost falling over as she dodged their violent movements. His instinct was to lunge forward and grab her. Pull her out of harmâs way. Normally heâd reprimand anyone whoâd walk into the training zone out of respect for his soldiers and the person endangering themself. He couldnât speak that way to The Herald. He let her go.
It wasnât long before she stood before him, her face blank of emotion. He wanted nothing more than to ask her if she was alright. Everything about her appearance suggested otherwise. He knew all too well the look of a person lacking sleep. He feared that when speaking to her heâd reveal too much. Dorianâs smug attitude the day prior had him acting cautiously.
âIs there anything I should know?â she asked flatly.
âNot at the present,â Cullen replied, a tone to match hers. They held eye contact as the buzz of sparring and wind circled around them. Juliette blinked then turned, stomping back to the shield that she had earlier tossed aside. âAnother time then?â he muttered with a sigh.
The training session with The Lieutenant didnât last long that day. Juliette stumbled and groaned her way through the drills. Her attitude was starting to irritate both Cassandra and The Lieutenant.
âYouâre not even trying!â he snapped, shoving her backwards.
âIâm tired of running in circles!â she yelled. âIt doesnât make sense!â
âItâs about discipline, something they clearly donât teach in Ostwick.â
âIâm done!â she growled. âTake your stupid sword!â she hurled it towards the ground.
âPick it up!â he commanded.
âNo, Iâve had enough. Iâm not a soldier.â
âBut you are, Herald,â he shouted. âYou go out there and you fight! You need to know how to do it properly, lives are in your hands!â
âThen why are you insisting I use a sword?â she tugged at her hair in frustration. By this point, Cullen had heard the shouting and walked over to see what was happening. Cassandra glared with folded arms. âTell me, Lieutenant! When am I ever going to need to use one? For the love of Andraste, Iâm a mage!â She turned to Cassandra and Cullen and yelled, âWhen will you people get that through your thick skulls. Iâm not a Templar!â
âHerald!â Cassandra scolded.
Juliette ignored her and continued, âI should be practicing with a staff and an experienced mage! Bring me Dorian or Solas! Oh, you know, you have probably the best Enchanter in all of Thedas sitting on her arse in the Chantry doing nothing!â He voice was begging to break and she was pushing back tears.
Cassandra looked to Cullen, âDo you want to step in?â
âMe?â he asked with confusion. âIâŚI doubt sheâll take orders from me.â
âHerald!â Cassandra shouted again. âYou need to calm dowââ
Everyone froze at the sudden sound of flames erupting as they engulfed a nearby training dummy. Through blurry eyes, Juliette watched in shock while it fell a part , the fire extinguishing in a hiss as it crashed into the snow. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she massaged the fingers of her right hand with her thumb in disbelief. It had been a very long time since she had conjured fire without the aid of an instrument to channel it properly. With rapid breaths, she turned around to witness The Lieutenant and surrounding soldiers eyeing her suspiciously, swords in their hands at the ready. She looked to Cassandra who had stood gawking with her mouth open and then Cullen. He was staring at her, intensely with narrow eyes. He gripped his sword tightly.
âDrop your weapons! Now!â Cassandra screamed. She aggressively threw her arm towards the tents and The Lieutenant obeyed her gesture to leave. Juliette and Cullen held their gaze, both frozen in shock. âCommander!â Cassandra said firmly. He was the only person to still have his sword drawn.
Standing between the two, she first looked to Juliette, noticing the way that she shook with each breath. Both her and Cullen looked terrified. Cassandra slowly approached Cullen and gently placed her hand on the fur that sat atop his shoulder. âCullen,â she said, this time with a much more gentle tone to her voice. He didnât respond, instead holding his unwavering gaze. Slowly, Cassandra pried the sword from his hand and stepped back. âThereâs no danger,â she softly spoke. His eyes snapped to Cassandra and he looked down to his sword that was now in her hands. Without saying a word, Cullen turned and walked away.
#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#cullen rutherford#commander cullen#cullen dragon age#cullen x trevelyan#cullen romance#dragon age fanfiction#cullen fanfic#dear commander
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The Inner Circle Crushing on Someone from a Different Background -- Part Three
this request comes from anon, who asks: 'Head canons for the main dragon age squard (if you feel up to it of course!!!!) About them crushing on someone from a different background (example: cullen and someone rich)'
I ended up splitting this up because I got carried away... my bad. If you want any of these to be revisited or you want me to go into more detail, feel free to shoot me another ask! The same can be said if you want DA characters from different games.
Part One (Blackwall, Cassandra, Cole) Part Two (Cullen, Dorian, The Iron Bull) Part Three (Josephine, Leliana, Sera)
JOSEPHINE:
The Montilyet family, while of note, had to carefully tend to their money and businesses in the aftermath of being barred from Orlais. Still, Josephine and her siblings regularly interacted as (and with) members of the nobility in Antiva and Orlais. Josephine herself, while a romantic, is particularly understanding of many different aspects of life and knowledgeable on things outside of the upper class.
Station in society has very little to do with Josephine falling in love. For her, it comes down to a matter of character. She has a soft spot for the romantic, but places good-deeds and honor above all else. Meeting someone of a more humble origin isnât necessarily how she expected to fall in love, but somehow sheâs enamored with a stablehand for the Inquisition. Theyâre very kind, always tending to the requests she has within record time, and respecting those around them regardless of occupation.
Josephine falls hard. At first she denies it; she has very little time for romance when there are holes in the sky, plus someone back in Orlais has already spoken for her. Yet, she canât help but be consumed by the gentle stable handâand the concept that their love might be forbidden. She doesnât give into fairytales as easily as her sister does, however, so she dismisses her feelings away as a crush. To her, itâs not only illogical to fall in love during wartime, but itâs also improbable that she would get to pick her spouse as the eldest of her family that borders on ruin.
It takes some meddling from Leliana for Josephine to confess her feelings. After that, itâs only a matter of time before her beloved stablehand somehow catches wind of it. Theyâd never believe that Lady Josephine would ever reciprocate their feelings, so they didnât dare try anything. But, with rumors of her feeling the same, it was now or never. It takes a while before Josephine is comfortable with the concept of a long term relationship during such trying times. However, if they can fall in love while holes are in the sky, then telling her family and other suitors should be a piece of cake.
LELIANA:
Leliana grew up across Thedas, parts of her life being contributed to Orlais and others to Ferelden. Having been a bard in the Orlesian court and a Sister in the Chantry, Leliana is influenced by a number of places and cultures. She grew up being tossed from place to place, never having much of a clue of where she would land next.
When she meets someone that catches her interest, she never anticipates that theyâll be so different from her in origin. She likely anticipates that theyâll also have been raised in the church, but instead itâs quite the opposite. Theyâre oblivious. They donât seem to have much care or awareness of the world around them, only interacting with the world that they directly make contact with.
When Leliana first meets them, I think they frustrate her quite a bit. Leliana has always had to be very careful with every choice she made as a young woman, so when she meets someone who she sees as âcarelessâ she wants nothing to do with them. She keeps her distance, making sure that they operate through Leliana, Cullen, or even the Inquisitor. Yet, she canât deny that theyâre quite attractiveâeven if their actions seem so odd to her.
After a close call in the field, theyâre humbled quite a bit and become aware of the stakes of Thedas that Leliana had warned them of. Following said close call, they become more conscious of their actions and try to be more careful on the field. This change probably makes Lelianaâs romantic interest deeper, rather than it just being physically attractive. They even approach Leliana for adviceâan action that moves Leliana and makes her consider how theyâve changed. It takes a while for either of them to be fully comfortable with one another, but after some humbling experiences the two draw closer.
SERA:
Variety is the spice of life for Sera. Everything new or different is automatically better in her book. She seeks adventure in the mundane and hardly ever takes the easy way out. In fact, anything similar to her upbringing is a little stale to her in some way. However, Seraâs past is a bit of a mixed bag. Her early life was spent in an elven alienage before she was taken in by a human woman. So anything outside of the realm of Ferelden qualifies as different. Yet, Sera rebukes her own connection to the upper classâciting it as her cause to protect the âlittle peopleâ of Thedas.
Upon meeting someone of the upper class, Sera would quickly group them in with all of the other nobility that she and the Friends of Red Jenny hate. Someone with such a high position and influence isnât to be trusted in her eyes, especially when they could turn at a moment's notice. She keeps her distance, even reporting them to the Inquisitor on several occasionsâso that they can keep an eye on them, of course. Sera even plays pranks on them since they make such an obvious target for the Friends of Red Jenny. However, as Sera watches from the shadows she begins to reconsider her opinion.
Theyâre of noble birth and have a substantial amount of money, but they use it in such a way that many other powerful people do not. They support the people of Haven, and they help purchase blankets for the displaced villagers of the Hinterlands. In fact, most of their money goes to people who need it more rather than keeping for themselves. Sera wants to change her perspective entirely, but a deep part of her is afraid that itâs all an elaborate trick being played on her.
She confronts them in the middle of the night, even drawing her bow in their face. Yet, they donât seem afraid in the slightest. In fact, they seem relieved that itâs Sera. It takes a bit of discussion for Sera to put her bow away, and even longer for her to realize that she mightâve been wrong about them. Those seeds of doubt develop further into romance, but her eventual partner doesnât have an issue using their station to support the people of Thedas.
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE
#dragon age x reader#dragon age inquisition x reader#dragon age fanfiction#x reader#dragon age hcs#dragon age imagines#dragon age headcanons#josephine montilyet x reader#josephine montilyet imagines#josephine montilyet headcanons#leliana nightingale x reader#leliana dragon age x reader#leliana imagines#leliana nightingale imagines#leliana headcanons#leliana dragon age headcanons#sera dragon age x reader#dai sera x reader#sera x reader#sera dragon age imagines#sera imagines#sxrensxngwrites
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Blackwall Romance: Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts
After the Ball
Blackwall Masterpost
Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts Masterpost First: Gaining an Invitation Previous: Liaison to the Inquisition
Blackwall walks out onto the balcony after Morrigan leaves and joins the PC at the railing.
Blackwall: There are at least a dozen young lords and ladies hoping for some time with the hero of the night. Yet, here you are. Alone. Care to share your thoughts?
Dialogue options:
Pleased: Things went well. [1]
Stoic: Itâs been a long night. [2]
Sad (Celene assassinated): I wish Iâd saved Celene. [3]
Sad (Gaspard executed): The poor grand duke. [4]
Anxious: I worry what this will bring. [5]
1 - Pleased: Things went well. PC: No complaints. Everything worked according to plan. Blackwall: You saved Orlais. You have earned some time for yourself.
2 - Stoic: Itâs been a long night. PC: Iâm just tired. This was a long night. Blackwall: You work too hard. I can see you wanting to get away from it all.
3 - Sad: I wish Iâd saved Celene. PC: Having watched the empress die before my eyes⌠Iâm not sure I made the right call. Blackwall: You did what you thought was right. Thatâs all any of us can do.
4 - Sad: The poor grand duke. PC: I wish I could have saved Duke Gaspard. Blackwall: You never do give up on people, no matter how lost they are.
5 - Anxious: I worry what this will bring. PC: Why do I suspect the events of this evening will only bring us more trouble later? Blackwall: Youâre probably right. But we can save that worry for another day.
6 - Scene continues.
Blackwall: The band still plays. Might I have this dance, Lady Adaar Blackwall: The night isnât over yet. May I have this dance, Lady Lavellan? Blackwall: Thereâs still some time left⌠Lady Cadash, may I have this dance? Blackwall: Before we leave, may I have this dance, Lady Trevelyan?
Blackwall offers the PC his hand.
Dialogue options:
General: Just stay with me. [7]
General: I would like to be alone. [8]
General: I just want to leave. [9]
General: Yes. [10]
7 - General: Just stay with me. PC: I donât feel much like dancing right now. But I could use some company, if you donât mind. Blackwall pulls them into a hug. [11]
8 - General: I would like to be alone. PC: I just need some time alone. Blackwall: Of course, my lady. Blackwall leaves. [11]
9 - General: I just want to leave. PC: Letâs just go. Iâve had enough of this place. Blackwall leads them back inside. [11]
10 - General: Yes. PC: Iâd like that. They start dancing. Inquisitor: I didnât know you danced. Blackwall: I did once, in another life. [11]
11 - Scene ends.
Next: The Divine Election
#dragon age inquisition#dragon age#dai transcripts#dragon age transcripts#dragon age dialogue#wewh#wicked eyes and wicked hearts#blackwall#long post
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Restarting Inquisition again since Iâm preparing myself for Dreadwolf. So met my Ex-Templar Two Handed Warrior, Hell!
Name: âHellâ Trevelyan (Traitor name given to him by the Templar Order so no one knows his real name)
Age: 28 (30 in Trespasser)
LI: Iron Bull
Weapon style: Two Handed
Specialization: Once a Templar always a Templar
Job: Inquisitor (Former Templar)
A-Team (Usual allies he brings): Iron Bull, Sera and Dorian
B-Team (The weird ones): Varric, Blackwall and Vivienne
Nickname(s): Kadan and Iris
Meaning behind them: His relationship with Iron Bull and the flower symbolize his role as Inquisitor (Wisdom and Power/ Message and Promise/ Faith and Hope) and just as a cruel joke that Hell is the girl in his and Bullâs relationship from Varric
What happened to him after Trespasser?
Hell was last spotted with the Chargers. Wanting to continuing helping the weak, he became the second in command and being the teams mage disrupting force with his Templar skills. He only wore a cloak, some heavy armor and a sword to defend himself but he knows his new family got his back. Within a couple of months after everything is at peace, both he and Iron Bull were married. No one knows where but both enjoyed it as heâll never have to leave Billâs side again.
Codex (Just a made up one for him)
ââ Trevelyan was once in the order of the finest Templar. Slew abominations, send mages to their towers and even was above the order. I said was because he became a traitor to the order. He was spotted with apostates near Kirkwall saving them from the Templars of his group. When he slayed them, the Knight-Commander branded him a traitor. And since no one asked him for his real name, they branded him the name Hell. He wore the Templar armor made in black ore and red leather to call himself the Blackguard of the Order. Since then, Hell been traveling around Thedas saving every mage he could find until the events of the Conclave which he was the last survivor. âA Templar scout during the events of the Conclaveâ
Now he dawns the title Inquisitor to protect everyone, even those who hated him, from a bigger threat. Rifts closing from left and right. The Rebel mages sided with him as allies. Grey Wardens in the ranks. The Red Templar order being slain by his blade. No matter what odds that is faced in front of him, heâll be prepared. And ladies, donât bother flirting with Hell (I guess the name is stuck to him). Heâs taken by the leader of the Bull Chargers, the Iron Bull. The high heavens acting like his sword (literally his bladeâs name) and shield, he sworn in to defend Thedas until the end. âVarric after the events of Inquisitionâ
Random Party Banter I made up
Varric: So Hell I got a great nickname for you!
Hell: Oh boy wonder whatâs mine is going to be? Hope something that isnât vulgar.
Varric: Heck no! My mind never goes that dirty. How about Iris?
Hell: Eh? AâŚfeminine nickname? You do realize Iâm a dude right?
Varric: I know but the flower really speaks to you. It symbolize the faith, power and even promise to be the Inquisitor, the leader of the Inquisition.
Hell: Ok I see what your doing there, Varric. I think Iâll take it. Better than Ruffles and CurlyâŚ
Iron Bull: UhâŚKadanâŚI think Varric is calling you the girl in the relationshipâŚ
Hell: Ugh, VARRIC!!
Varric: (Laughs) Got you, and itâs sticking, Iris.
Hell: Maker give me strengthâŚto not smite the dwarf.
Varric: Itâs not my fault you were the dress in the relationship.
End Credits joke
Cassandra: Let see what you wrote about our Inquisitor, Hell; Varric. A blade shines like a brilliant light. Rainbow of colors before you see your death. A former Templar armor coated in red and black. Hell has come to defend anyone who threats him. Starting with the Red Templars who was foolish to stand against him. âHear the words of the Maker as I smite you all into the deeps of the Deep Roads! For help me that Iâm the Inquisitor!â ThatâsâŚscarily accurate.
Yes, Hell became First Thaw and makes a bear joke lol
(I also played as a Mage Qunari so Iâll add info about Sordidus Adaar)
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15. Out of the followers/companions, who are they most comfortable around?
out of the canon inquisition companions itâd have to be sera, cole, vivienne, thom/blackwall, and solas. thora likes most of the inquisition companions (although with bull it takes until post-da:i in her game canon) but those five are the ones that hit the right combination of things.
her initial discomfort about sera stems from seraâs sometimes confusing speech patterns which take a bit for thora to grow accustomed to. sera keeps referring to people not-her as âpeople people,â too, which is just an odd phrase when thora was people people just a month or two ago at the time they met. in her companion verse i think theyâd get along a lot sooner, quicker because there is none of that herald stuff to make the relationship stickier. my in-game headcanon for thoraâs post-game involves sera being around, as thora does take her offer to be a jenny. sera is one of the companion relationships that persists beyond inquisition, without it being a long-distance friendship anyway.
cole itâs a similar reason to sera, plus her unfamiliarity with spirits. cole is literally the first one sheâs met, and his speech patterns are even stranger. there may always be some discomfort with cole if sheâs having a bad day, the thought of having something dredged up might put her on edge around him. but also with cole thereâs absolutely zero judgment, and she also evolves into feeling the same about him? like, thora and cole are both people who are very different and yet very similar. when she keeps him a spirit she doesnât completely understand why heâs happy, but sheâs glad he is and was happy to support it.
i think vivienne is the outlier on this list b/c sheâs sort of noble. not by birth, her parents were merchants and sheâs a mage, but she carries herself like one. vivienne and thora share vastly different opinions on things such as the chantry and circles, things that might strain friendships typically, but also thora isnât a mage. vivienneâs opinions are just that to her. it certainly does strain their relationship at first, but once youâre friends with vivienne she takes care of you. i canât say the two are close emotionally but at the same time she does feel comfortable around vivienne.
then blackwall. although in rp this depends upon if the thom agrees to this, but thora sort of knows heâs a criminal before it all comes out. their conversations hint at that past too much for her to be completely oblivious to it, and wardens are known for being penitent criminals. he also doesnât talk like a highborn lord, giving him some of the same initial comfort she gets from sera. the reveal that heâs not all who he says he is does harm that, but it doesnât stay like that and i think by trespasser especially - once thom starts actively confronting his past - that discomfort would go away and they could be as they were.
but solas is probably her best friend in the inquisition and the one sheâs most comfortable with. like with sera and cole, it does take adjustment. solas lives his life in a way thatâs hard for her to grasp, but as she comes to understand him they get more comfortable with each other. most conversations about difficult decisions she has with him either before or after the fact, sheâs not free of judgment like she is with cole, but the two end up in a friendship where both are comfortable calling the other. for her part, thora fails to fully grasp the personhood of spirits even after having it explained to her until well into da:i. and for his, well, we know what solas says about dwarves in canon. neither of them let this slide, but there was also always the potential for forgiveness and learning. thora being more emotionally open and touchy also pushes past some of solasâ walls. theyâre not the sort of friends who are always all over each other, but if theyâre both reading together she will prop herself up on his shoulder. and she gives lots of hugs. everyone in the inner circle gets a hug at least once.
#veilpierced#( asks )#v; once more unto the breach#cookie crumbs in shingles ( sera )#i won't change him ( cole )#never been called ''lady'' before ( blackwall )#we all deserve a second chance ( solas )#( headcanons )#i would do no less for you ( vivienne )
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Naomi Hawke- Banter
I havenât done one of these in a long time. This is only partially done, I want to do 2 for each companion at least (if someone asks for more there will be more >.>). But this was fun and I love it and you couldnât stop me from doing more.
I wanted to tag ppl to do some but I thought maybe people wouldnât be interested; if you think Iâm wrong, let me know and next post I will tag you! (maybe with an OC x Character so itâs not so broad)
...
Dorian and Hawke
Dorian:Â Champion, if I may?
Hawke:Â What do you need, Mustache?
Dorian: Oh no. You do it too?
Hawke: No, I forgot your name. What do you need?
Dorian: It was- never mind. Iâve been reading Varricâs book about youâŚ
Hawke: Let me guess. Something is implausible.
Dorian: Well, yes, but I was more wondering about the rather jarringly placed sex scene in the middle. He says you gave permission.
Hawke: Permission? Oh, no. We insisted.
Dorian:Â Really.
Hawke: Isabela made me draw diagrams for him, it was really detailed. If youâre curious, I can try a reproduction tonight when we make camp.
Dorian:Â I suddenly regret asking.
...
Dorian:Â So youâre an artist?
Hawke: With a blade. In bed. AlsoâŚon paper, yes.
Dorian: Hmmh. Whatâs your medium of choice?
Hawke: Generally whateverâs close to hand. I mostly draw plants.
Dorian:Â Ah, so no dashing formal portraiture, then?
Hawke: No. I do draw all of Varricâs author portraits, though. No matter how many times he asks me to stop.
...
Hawke and Cole
Cole: Soft pink flowers on the pillow. Her cheeks are red. So hot. Sheâs still not breathing. Mother, where are you?
Hawke:Â Is this normal?
Varric: You get used to it. Sorry. Kid, maybe thatâs not a great idea.
Cole: Crying and wheezing. Little flowers in the hot, hot water, little red cheeks. Sheâs so heavy, but no one is coming. No one ever comes. If she dies, is it your fault?
Hawke:Â I donât like this.
Varric: He means well. I think.
Cole:Â Why canât she breathe?
Hawke: Itâs called croup. She didnât die. Even though once I almost dropped her in the pot and made Bethany soup.
...
Cole:Â You kill people before they know theyâre dead!
Hawke:Â They figure it out eventually.
Cole:Â I didnât know leaves could do that!
...
Hawke and Blackwall
Hawke: So. Blackthorn.
Blackwall:Â Yes, my Lady?
Hawke: (Sighs.)
Blackwall: âŚdid I say something wrong?
Varric: Donât worry about it. She wanted you to correct her.
Blackwall:Â Why?
Hawke:Â The joke is ruined now, and it doesnât matter!
Varric: She was going to say she wanted to climb you like a tree.
Hawke: Thanks, Varric, you always make it slightly worse.
Varric: Happy to help.
...
Blackwall:Â What was in that bottle you pulled out last night?
Hawke:Â Amell Reserve Darktown Absinthe.
Blackwall:Â I havenât been drunk like that since I was first in my cups.
Hawke: Thanks! I make it myself.
Blackwall:Â Donât you brew poisons?
Hawke: Thereâs more overlap than youâd think. Â
...
Hawke and Varric
Varric: So.
Hawke: Oh Maker, that voice. Just come out with it.
Varric:Â Sebastian tried to invade Kirkwall.
Hawke: (Laughs.) Of course he did. Maybe after this Iâll pay a visit to Starkhaven. Get a job in the kitchen.
Varric:Â You could try diplomacy before poisoning your ex-boyfriend.
Hawke:Â What happened to you?
...
Varric:Â You okay?
Hawke:Â If I said yes, would you believe me?
Varric: Mmh, no. I only ask to gauge how not okay you are.
Hawke:Â We made the right choice, didnât we?
Varric: We made a choice.
Hawke:Â (Sighs.)Â Right.
Varric: Weâre still here. Thatâs gotta count for something. Plus, Iâve got some candied chestnuts somewhere in the bottom of my pack. Probably sticky, but itâs better than nothing.
Hawke:Â Iâd kiss you, but that stubble would chafe me.
Varric:Â I havenât heard any complaints.
Hawke:Â Maker, you make the jokes so easy.
Varric: Thatâs what I do, Hawke. I set âem up, and you knock âem down.
Hawke:Â Such a good wingman.
...
Hawke and Cassandra
Cassandra:Â Champion.
Hawke: You could call me Hawke. Usually girls who look at me like that go for a more personal touch.
Cassandra: IâŚwhat?
Hawke:Â What is it?
Cassandra: I was simply wondering if you would allow some questions. In regards to Varricâs book.
Hawke: Sure. Everythingâs exaggerated except for how good I am in bed, and how much of an infected gash-wound Petrice was.
Varric: (Laughs.)Â She was the worst!
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See Me
For @snakebitcat, Blackwall and Josephine at last see one another. Light Smut, rated M. Thank you! Read on AO3 Here!
An ambassador should always be seen. She is in many respects, the spokeswoman of the Inquisition. A steel hand covered in a silken glove. A little influence here, a little talk there, a little flattery there, a little gossip there. She knows all and seeâs all.
Sheâs well aware sheâs indisputable. Cullen is strong and powerful but could never charm his way through a dinner. Leliana, bless her, has preferred knives over niceness for quite some time. Josephine is the voice, the mast head of the Inquisitionâs ship. More than an ornamental decoration often ascribed to her, she steers the Inquisitionâs ship. Therefore, she must always be present.
Such a fete Josephine finds herself at tonight. The Inquisitor asked for her advice on the matter, and she suggested a grand fete with banners handing from the grand hall, and a band playing soft music. Everything is heightened in the way everything usually is during fetes, senses sharpened and loneliness more apparent here in a crowd of hundreds than it is in her quiet office. Her loneliness is a gaping, heavy weight, and in between shaking hands and introducing the Inquisitor to important nobles with deep pockets, Josephineâs gaze darts to find gaps in the crowd, gaps where a certain someone may perhaps be. Heâs not there. Heâs nowhere to be found. The weight on her shoulders is all the heavier without him.
An ambassador should always be seen. An ambassador still slips away, searching for Thom Rainier.
She doesnât yet know if he prefers Blackwall still, or if heâll take up his name of origin. She would like to ask, but theyâve been only speaking through silent glances since his judgement. Josephine remembers his furtive glances to her during his trial, the way he denounced the Inquisitor for asking Josephine to âtarnish her good nameâ to bargain his release into the Inquisitionâs custody. Josephine however is used to gossip and knows how to quell it. One must merely divert attention elsewhere. So, the Inquisition asked for the release of Thom Rainier. Isnât that not unlike Grand Duke Gaspard asking to punish the transgressions of his soldiers himself, something you, Lord Tyron agreed with? Talk must be diverted. Josephine diverts it. Sometimes she can be the same as Leliana.
Outside, knowing any gossip that emerges from her absence will be diverted by Leliana, Josephine spots him in the gazebo. He studies his hands. They are strong hands and good hands, so Josephine believes. She goes to him. She calls his name first, a gentle âThom.â Thom knows her voice. He alights. Knights are susceptible to the call of their chosen women, and Thom Rainier has made Josephine his. Flowers of different colors and hues have graced her desk since they arrived at Skyhold, and he always exchanged them for new ones before they wilted. Always in the early morning when she was still dressing and pinning her hair up. He hasnât exchanged the flowers since his trial, and she has kept the once purple violets on her desk though they have long wilted and greyed. Sheâd rather have them there than a barren desk.
âHello Thom,â she says, sitting across from him. The commanderâs chest board is still set up between them, a reminder of early flirtations with the Inquisitor. Last Josephine saw them, the Inquisitor managed to have Cullen dance with her. Josephine would like to dance. Sheâd like to do so many things.
âAmbassador.â
His voice is cold. Clipped. But she knows how to feign an unwounded pride. âI must ask,â she says, graceful as ever. âIs it Thom now?â
âWhatever pleases you, my lady.â
My lady. Thereâs that at least. âIt would please me to see you stand proud and be seen.â
What for, he asks. So he could be judged? They all know what heâs done. Itâs better to have all eyes on the Inquisitor rather than Thom Rainier.
âBut do you not stand by the Inquisitorâs side?â Josephine asks. âYou are part of her inner circle. She wanted you back. She wanted you safe. To not see you thereâŚâ
He laughs, bitter. âShe doesnât care about me in that way.â
âAnd you donât think there are others who do.â
She spoke quietly, almost a whisper. Yet the silence that passes is unbearable. She wishes he would see. He doesnât see her. Not now. Perhaps she was mistaken.
She must go back inside. She must remain unseen by thousands rather than be unseen by one. Itâs the truth of being the ambassador, the mast head of the ship. You are seen but not truly. No one looks deeper than the surface. Not even Thom.
The weight is heavy on her shoulders, the weight of wasted time. Unable to move after rising, trying to get as far away from him as possible, Josephine stands in the Inquisitorâs beautiful garden, halfway to what sheâs made her reality and halfway to a dream whoâs abandoned her. The Inquisitorâs rose garden is well-tended. Itâs her act of love, to nurture blooms for others to enjoy. Flowers however, fall and scatter to the grass to be returned back to the soil. The most beautiful things are always temporary. Spotting one of the fallen blooms, Josephine picks it up.
He is near her. He has followed. He doesnât say anything. He lets them breathe. Itâs small confirmation, but what she needs. She came to him when she had a crowd of hundreds, wanted his eyes over all of them. The ambassador plays games. Heâs always known that. Never with him.
She shows the rose to him, and he silently accepts the small gift when she places it on the lapel of his jacket. âFor all the flowers you gave me,â she says. âThough, I do miss having them.â
âI didnât dare hope they were more to you.â He must admit it. He must be sure.
She sighs. âLas splendeur des coeurs perdus.â
(Even as she utters the term, he knows. They always were more. Even with that first exchange of blooms upon her desk after he caught her gazing at him as he played outside with the children, letting them climb on him and wrestle with him. She was caught then. Sheâs still caught.)
âThe splendor of lost hearts,â Thom mutters, making the unspoken his reality. âIâm afraid by mentioning it Iâve broken the power.â Indeed las splendeur des coeurs perdus has only power when there is magnetism between shared gazes and looks. The power of love withers when both parties know it. Such a game, like many things in their world.
But itâs never been a game.
âYou have broken nothing my lady,â he says.
âHave I? You hurt me, when you say there is no one that cares.â
He touches her cheek. His hand is warm like he is warm. âMaker why did you ever save me? Why must you have ruinedââ
âDonât you dare ever suggest it,â she orders. She has never ruined herself for anyone. She does what she must. âI asked Empress Celene to release you to us. I have ruined nothing.â
âThey will judge you if the two of us continueââ
Thereâs no turning back. âI donât care. I never have.â
âBut you judge me. They all do.â
âWhat good does is do to judge?â She wonders, acutely aware of how warm he is and how he inhabits every story sheâd ever read of knights. âI have seen you here,â she says. âI know you here. I know you now.â
âBut did I hurt you? If I ever hurt youâŚâ
âYou only hurt me now, when you look at me without seeing. Just like all the rest.â
He pulls himself closer still. With anyone else it would have been too much. With Thom it isnât enough.
âI am not like all the rest,â he vows. âI see.â
âProve it then, my lord.â
He doesnât scoff at âmy lord,â as she may have suspected. Instead, he places his lips upon hers. Earth and him, earth and herbs. More.
Time passes, an hour, a minute, a moment. Josephine turns time to honey. They donât return to the fete, but rather they dance to the soft music that carries outside. He canât live in the splendor of silence anymore. He tells her so. âWe are dancing,â she says, and dancing is bold. Dancing is deliberate, even when dancing is only a soft sway together. Dancing is everything, until it is some time later, until they want more.
In that some time later in Josephineâs room, both replete but still fogged in a world of skin and silks, Thom asks again. Are you sure, my lady?
��More than anything,â she replies. âI donât care what they say.â
Thom smiles. âI wonder. Have you ever cared?â
Returning the smile, she shakes her head. That is the secret, one she has buried deep within. Josephine has never sought the approval of her peers, only her own. She knows it may seem contraryâshe plays the game after all. But that is her mask and her act. This is her, that stands in her room and wants Thom Rainier to touch her and love her. They arenât so different. Throughout his life, Thom Rainier has sought only the same, his own approval. For two miscreants, it pleases them to be together, to lie with one another, kiss. To give.
âI love a good scandal my lady,â Thom says, making her laugh as they revel in their wayward, nefarious ways of the heart. In the time that follows Thom will always remember Josephine pulling down her hair, letting the dark waves fall long and far past her shoulders. It spills on his chest as they laid together, caught in a world of silk and skin. They act like joyful miscreants hidden away, Josephine finding Thom is sturdy and strong and Thom finding Josephine is pliant and joyous. She laughs when heâs inside her, and such an act would have perhaps wounded another manâs pride. Not Thom. Her laughter sounds like freedom. Free, sheâs that happy and herself. She asks him to look at her when she rides him. She asks him to always look at him, to always see her. He always has.
They make love, a lone yet bright bloom on the bedside table. From now on, flowers will never stray far from them.
The next day the Inquisitor wonders what makes Josephine jubilant. The Inquisitor wouldnât call her a miscreantâas always Josephine is poised and tactful, but she speaks with a newfound freedom and ease. The Inquisitor suspects, and correctly so, that has nothing to do with fete and everything to so with the fresh roses that grace Josephineâs desk.
âI am seen,â Josephine says when the Inquisitor asks. âI am known.â
Duties finish for the day as they always do. Chatter never ceases as it always does. Itâs alright. Josephine knows how to divert attention, how to change the talk to favor them. Itâs worth it. Thom isnât a secret. Thom is known. Thom is seen for the good man he truly is.
Above all and with a flower on his lapel, Thom is Josephineâs.
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so I have been working on this in fits and starts for a while now, trying to find the focus to write. Disaster!Evelyn and Blackwall/Thom - The AU version. In which post Trespasser Thom time travels to do his best to change things (like saving Evelyn's husband and son from certain death in Kirkwall).
Then Thom and Evelyn have a chance meeting. - Someday I will actually fully flesh out this story and post it, but until then, a snippet ('cause I really miss writing and sharing it with people)
--
âShare my bed tonight.â Evelyn looked up, startled, and found the same man she had seen earlier when stabling her horse. Her heart skipped and heat flushed her cheeks. From the moment she had first seen this man she had felt something. Some sort of recognition, though she was certain sheâd never met him before. Dark hair streaked with silver, a beard that was neatly trimmed and was more silver than black. His pale blue eyes seemed to see right into her, and she parted her lips, ready to tell him off.
He reached up, rubbed a hand over his jaw, and ducked his head. She heard the rasp of his palm against his beard. âApologies, my lady, that was untoward-â
Evelyn had never sought out a bed companion, never found an escape with a stranger, or even another soldier, despite what her husband may have believed near the end. âEvelyn,â she said, bracing her hand against the table as she pushed up from her seat. âYes,â she told him, her heart beating faster in her chest. âBut you can share my bed, I have a room across the way.â
âAs my lady wishes,â he said, taking a step back. He held out a hand, gesturing for her to lead the way when she finally noticed the cane he leaned on. âIâm Thom,â he said.
âThom,â she echoed and felt as if sheâd swallowed a jar of moths. Nerves and excitement had her blood pumping faster. Evelyn had never done anything like this. And sheâd only ever been with Alexander. It had been years since even him though.
There was so much guilt surrounding Alexander that as they crossed the road to the inn, she began to reconsider. Through the door of the inn and up the stairs, Evelyn eased her pace when she realized she was practically running. Glancing back at Thom, she saw the corner of his mouth twist up into a grin. And she also realized that his steps werenât hindered by whatever injury, but rather by the fact that he was staring at her.
âAre you leering at my ass?â she asked, not affronted by the idea, but rather warmed by it. When was the last time someone had looked at her like that? With such want and desire. Never, she realized. Alexander had never been so sure of himself.
âYes,â he told her and she couldnât help the snort of laughter that escaped her.
One night, she told herself. She could have this one night before she returned to Ostwick and to her parents' bidding. Slotting the key into the lock, Evelyn felt Thomâs hand caress the back of her head and stroke down her hair. Glancing over at him, absurdly she felt her cheeks warm. âThe way you look at me-â she broke off, voice catching because she couldnât put it into words. Couldnât explain what she felt, what the way he watched her did to her.
Pushing the door open, Evelyn took several quick steps into the room, suddenly overwhelmed by this man and what she was about to do. âEv,â he said and it was a caress down her spine. Pleasure in the simple shortening of her name. Alexander had always called her Evie. Turning, Evelyn saw Thom lingered by the door. âIf youâve changed your mind-â he started and she shook her head, knowing without a doubt that if he left right now, sheâd regret it for the rest of her life.
Two long strides back to the door, and Evelyn curled one hand in the collar of his tunic, the other cupped the back of his head and she kissed him. Too hard, bruising, oh, Gods, what was wrong with her? But Thom only let out a low groan, fisted a hand in her hair, and wrapped the other around her waist, his cane clattered to the floor.
He took a step, and she let him lead. Distantly heard the door slam shut before her back was against it. Thom kissed her. He stole her breath, made her head spin, and desperately she wanted, no, needed more.
#meraadwrites#blackwall x evelyn#blackwall x trevelyan#the disaster that is evelyn trevelyan#blackwall#thom rainier#evelyn trevelyan
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Hi Niri! For this week, how about "Gossamer" from the most beautiful English words for Thalia/Blackwall?
Hello I went right to the angst with this one.
Paired with @oxygenforthewicked's prompt:
Set after Thalia ballsed up her chance to romance him, but before the shit hits the fan with his identity. đ
For @dadrunkwriting
WC: 891
Gossamer: The finest piece of thread, a spiderâs silk. Used to refer to something very light, thin, and insubstantial or delicate.
---
In the early morning, when Thalia couldnât sleep, she crawled out of her tent and crept away before any sentry noticed. She wanted to be alone.Â
A stream ran by their camp, and Thalia plonked herself on a rock by the bank, watching the rushing water as the sun rose. The morning dew clung to the trees and the grass. Beside her, on a long-stemmed flower, lines of gossamer glistened, their spinner long since departed.
She watched this delicate beauty, reaching out a finger. Her nail hovered above the thread. One touch and the whole thing collapsed. Her chest ached. She thought of the man who had brought her here, to this coastline of tumultuous weather, not that long ago. He was the reason her nights were sleepless. She thought heâd wanted something â from her, for her, with her?Â
That seemed silly now. Now all she could think of was how easily it had fallen apart. One aborted trip to the Storm Coast, one confusing kiss in her quarters, and she feared sheâd wrecked things with Warden Blackwall for good.Â
She wished she could take back the words sheâd said to him that night â you canât put that burden on me. Because he already had, and nothing she could do would stop it from being so. Now most of her words to him were met with insolent silence, When he did deign to speak, his responses were rote of a knight doing his duty.
âLady Thalia.âÂ
Thalia gasped, snatching her hand away from the thread. In the pre-dawn light she saw him, storming toward her with a vicious scowl, as if she had conjured him into being with her thoughts.Â
âThere you are. Makerâs balls, donât ever scare me like that again. Going off by yourself, when thereâs darkspawn about, and Red Templars to bootââÂ
âI can handle myself, ser,â Thalia said sharply, getting to her feet.
He was in a foul mood this morning, though that was true of every morning as of late. Thalia was beginning to wonder if he was doing it on purpose, to goad her into removing him from her field roster. But she needed Blackwall â she could hardly conceive of going into battle without him nowadays. How many close calls had there been, when she would have been struck down by a demon or a glowing red templar, if not for Blackwall swooping in at the critical moment?Â
He cocked his head skeptically, as if he were thinking the same thing.Â
âCan you now?â Blackwall quirked an eyebrow. He was challenging her, or mocking her. Thalia felt her cheeks grow warm.
âI just â needed to think.â About him, mostly. How she wished heâd kiss her again, so that she could try it out properly. But she could never voice that. How could she tell him, that she considered it all a colossal mistake, even though in the end sheâd done exactly as heâd asked? He was he one who thought things could never work between them â and though he would never say why, Thalia suspected half a hundred reasons. Blackwall probably wanted a real woman, not someone like her, young and naive to the ways of men. She suspected he was getting exactly what he wanted.Â
So why did it seem like he despised her?
âThink closer to camp,â Blackwall growled as she stormed past him, to the path that led back to the Inquisition retinue. âIf you die on my watch thereâll be bloody hell to pay.âÂ
Thalia whirled on him, jabbing a finger against his chest. âIs that all you care about?âÂ
Blackwall seemed taken aback, but only for a moment. His expression darkened. âWhy would that surprise you, my lady? After what youâve seen of me.âÂ
âIâve seen a brave and noble man bent on punishing himself for unseen crimes,â Thalia snapped. She must have struck a nerve somehow â she watched the color drain from his face. âAnd hating himself for it,â she added, softly, chewing her lip.Â
She hoped whatever it was she had said would reach him. He looked as he had that night in her quarters: possessed of a wanton energy that could explode at any moment. I had to see you, heâd said, grabbing her. Sheâd been warned growing up, of course, about men and their appetites. But no one had said what you should do if eliciting lust in one felt good. She played that instant over and over in her head â his arms around her waist, mouth hot on hers. His beard had smelled of woodsmoke.Â
She wondered what would have happened if sheâd pushed past his excuses and kissed him again. She wondered what would happen if she tried that right now. Would it be like her troubled, heated ruminations that dogged her when she lie in her tent, knowing he was just feet away in his? What if she told him she wanted him right here, right now, on a bed of wet grass and with the threat of bears, apparently?Â
But Blackwall only sneered. âYouâve always been a pretty little fool, havenât you?â
Yes. It seemed so. She felt raw and stung, as if heâd struck her. Thalia turned so that he would not see her blinking back tears.Â
He dogged her heels all the way back to camp, but never touched her.Â
#thalia trevelyan#blackwall#blackwall x trevelyan#ahahaha they're so doomed#crying about it#fics#dragon age drunk writing circle
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Party banter with Inquisitor Essek
(Because this ridiculous crossover has taken over my life. A brief explanation, as much as explanation is possible:Â a mis-cast spell has yote a post-campaign Essek through a planar rift and into Thedas, and he happened to land in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. These banters go up to the destruction of Haven, which is why Cole isnât here - but he will be in later instalments!)
Cassandra: Leliana has found no information about you. Not a thing. Essek: Considering that most mages are met with disgust and imprisonment, it would be... imprudent of me to advertise my presence. Cassandra: Living in secrecy is one thing. Leaving no mark on the world at all is another. Essek: And you would prefer, I think, for all my secrets to be at your disposal. Cassandra: Are you surprised that I suspect you have something to hide? Essek: Is hostile intent the only possible reason for secrecy, Seeker?
Solas: It would appear that your mark is affecting you physically, Herald. Essek:Â My hand was not green before, no. Solas: Aside from the obvious. While I tended to you after the conclave, you did not always seem to be asleep. At times, you lapsed into true unconsciousness. At other times, you seemed to trance, half-sleeping. Essek: Ah. Yes. I suppose... the connection to the Fade has altered the way I sleep. I find I can enter these trances at will, as a substitute for sleep. Solas: That is fascinating. The ancient elves could enter an endless dream called uthenera. Perhaps this is a related phenomenon. Essek: So one would assume.
Essek: So, Sera. I was going through my research notes - Sera: [Sniggering] Essek: And I found that they had been expertly illustrated. Sera: That's what your weird rifty timey magic shite needs. All the butts. Essek: They certainly add interest. Although... that drawing of me closing a rift full of demon butts? You should have shaped my cloak so that it looked like a dick. Sera: [laughs] Like a dick! You're all right, Herald Weirdyhand. Essek: And you are quite the jester.
Varric: How is it you can just walk around pitch-black caves without a problem? Donât tell me you're part-dwarf and it's stone-sense. Essek: Ah, no. I would assume it is yet another change from the mark. Varric: So this thing lets you fix the sky, and it's a free torch? Who knew that being Andraste's chosen came with a multi-purpose toolkit? Essek: There is no evidence for my being chosen by anything other than political convenience. Varric: Youâre not crazy about the whole Herald business, are you? Essek: About people deciding that I am the mouthpiece of an unproven god who does not speak to anyone, and yet whose name and teachings people use as an excuse for war and conquest, without investigating the truth behind those teachings? No. I am not.
Blackwall: So what does an apostate do, if he's on his own for... I don't know, how many years? Essek: Arcane research, mostly. Why, what does a Grey Warden do when he's on his own for however many years? Blackwall:Â Kill darkspawn. Recruit for the Wardens. Kill more darkspawn. Essek: And your fellow Wardens do not accompany you? Blackwall: You don't need more than one person to say 'how do you feel about fighting darkspawn for the rest of your life?' Essek: Did you... ever find yourself becoming lonely, in your solitude? Blackwall: I... sometimes, I suppose. Never gave much thought to it. Easier that way. Essek: Mm. I know the feeling.
Dorian: So you think Alexiusâs perception of time was fundamentally flawed? Essek: I do. Time is not a straight line, through which one can jump ahead, skip back and rub bits out. Dorian: How would you have done it differently? Aside from the whole âconjure a world infested with red lyrium and catastropheâ part. Essek: Imagine time as a branching thing. Every choice we make causes potential timelines to fade into non-existence. Essek: But their potential remains, waiting to be tapped. Alexius should have attempted to manifest a timeline in which I was never here, rather than removing me from this one. Dorian: Well, donât tell everybody how to make it work. Wouldnât want them to get ideas. Though perhaps youâd like to compare notes, later? Essek: I... would like that.Â
Vivienne: You carry yourself remarkably well, Herald. Almost like nobility. Essek: Only 'almost'? I shall have to try harder. Vivienne: And despite your youth, you deflect personal inquiries with the deftness of a seasoned player of the Game. Quite remarkable, from a hedge mage. Essek: I'm mildly curious: 'hedge mage'? Vivienne: A self-taught mage, dear. One who has gone without the instruction of a Circle, or even a Dalish clan. If you ever require tuition, I am at your disposal. Essek: Iâm sure you are. But I am not especially interested in whatever you think you have to teach.
Sera: Youâre proper weird, you are. You go all swanny around the noble piss-bags, all smiles and pretty words like Lady Josie, but you put teeth in it, like Vivvy. Essek: Like Vivienne? I should hope not. Sera: And then you screw the nobs over like Josie does, âcept she makes them love her for it and you make them scared. Leliana kind of scared. Essek: When people donât know you, or what to make of you, they fear you. It makes them... malleable. Itâs something Iâve learned to use. As has Leliana, it would seem.
Varric: You doing all right, Smiles? Essek: 'Smiles'? An intriguing choice. Varric: Same reasoning as Iron Lady and Sparkler. Meet as many messes as I have, and you get good at spotting masks. Essek: Indeed? Varric: You fell out of the sky, got attacked by a shit ton of demons and put in charge of an army, and never once stopped smiling. Kind of impressive, actually. Essek: Thank you. Varric: Also, creepy as shit.Â
Solas: I'm curious about your name, Herald. Essek: My name? It's Essek. Sera: [laughs] Solas: I meant that it isn't elven, though your family name sounds very like it. Solas: âThelyssâ. I wonder if it is is a result of syllables from the name 'Lethallas' being lost and altered over the years. It means, 'a gift to one's kin.' Essek: Ha. Solas: You don't find that likely? Essek: Me being a gift to my kin? Highly unlikely.
Iron Bull: So, boss, what do you make of my guys? Essek: They clearly have an array of talents. Iron Bull: Oh, come on. I didn't ask for what the Herald thought of his new recruits, I asked what you make of my guys. Essek: Very well. They are... unusual. Enthusiastic. I think that some would underestimate them, some would be thrown off-balance by them, and many would do both. Iron Bull: Ha. Yeah, we like to keep people guessing. Essek: I like them. They are... lively.
Sera: I donât get it. You can screw over noble shite-faces without being scary. And youâre not scary! I know you and youâre not scary, so why be scary? Essek: Well, I donât find you scary either, Sera. But Iâm sure our enemies do, when theyâre on the wrong end of your arrows. Sera: Thatâs different things, though. I learned arrows because arrows mean nobs are dead and Iâm not. Essek: Exactly. Like you, I have had to fight for survival in my own ways. And unlike you, for a long time, I was without friends. Sera: So... you learned how to do scary because youâre scared? Essek: I would say more... aware of potential dangers. Sera: So, scared.
Solas: As for your first name, the final syllable is not even a sound that occurs in elven. Is it Qunlat? One of your parents is Qunari, I assume? Essek: Ah. Yes, of course. Solas: So it is Qunlat? Iron Bull: Nah, thatâs not Qunlat, whatever it is. Almost sounds like it, though. Kinda like âisskariâ. Name for Ben-Hassrath who get hold of weird magic crap. Essek: Oddly appropriate. But since I'm not in contact with my family, the truth shall have to remain a mystery.
Blackwall: Are you all right, Herald? Essek: Fine, thank you. I simply have somewhat sensitive eyes and skin, and it is a very bright day. Blackwall: If you need to stop, I could... I donât know. Hold a shield over your head? Essek: I appreciate it, but no, thank you. It is tolerable. Blackwall: Didnât meant to offend. Essek: It is all right. I - [sighs] I apologise. That would help, if you could. Years of solitude have made me... reliant on my own self-reliance, I suppose. Blackwall: I know what you mean. Shield parasol it is, then.
Sera: Donât need to be scared, right? Anyone gives you shit, I give âem arrows. Or just pies. Or worms in their shoes. Essek: [chuckles] Thank you, Sera. Please do. Sera: Did think you were scary at first, you know. Essek: What changed your mind? Sera: Scary wouldnât grin when I drew butts on things. Essek: ... Are you at all fond of cupcakes, Sera?
#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#critical role#inquisitor!essek#essek thelyss#is a lying liar who lies. but he's trying his best#his relationship with vivienne will improve i swear#sky's writing
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hello! for dadwc - "6. Ice cream on your nose" with shiva cadash/blackwall?
^u^ Thank you so much for the prompt I hope you like it!
Words: 744 Pairing: Inquisitor Cadash/Blackwall For @dadrunkwriting
Ice cream was not a delicacy the Cadash family had ever partaken in. To be fair, her branch of the family wasnât allowed to partake in delicacies until they reached a certain age. Shiva was still young. Her role was supposed to be one as a weapon, stoic and efficient.Â
Then fate had slapped a green mark of power on her palm.
Friends didnât come easy to her. In fact, she tried to keep everyone at an armâs length as best she could. Vivienne had taken a shine to her, though. Despite her best efforts to stay stalwart, the mage had broken down a wall that had been up since her birth and since then Vivienne had been eager to get her to try new things. So, when Josephine had ordered ice cream in order to appease some Orelsian nobles that were visiting, Vivienne had been insistent that she try some.Â
And it was wonderful-- never in her life had she tasted something so sweet and creamy. And this was just vanilla! According to Vivienne, there was a lovely flavor that was made with Rivani cocoa beans called chocolate. She had left to go get some from the shipment, leaving Shiva sitting on a chair, her legs not long enough to reach the floor. She tried not to let it bother her while she focused on the ice cream.Â
âThere you are,â a deep voice rumbled from the door to the kitchen.Â
A small smile crossed her face. There was another encouragement from Vivienne, though she had been more subtle about it. When Blackwall had seemed interested, Shiva had tried to ignore it-- despite a blossoming feeling in her chest, despite the fact that he did not care she was a dwarf, despite the fact that he made her feel like no one else ever had. To be honest, she had never stood a chance once she had let her walls come down. Now, she dare not imagine life without him. Even if dying to Corypheus was a true threat, they had each other.Â
Still, after discovering the existence of Thom Rainier, Blackwall had been distant. Always a gentleman, always kind and willing to speak, but unusually nervous as if he were attempting to walk barefoot over broken glass. The truth had hurt, but Shiva had done many things in her life that most would consider cold or evil. It did not make her a popular Inquisitor all the time, but Blackwall loved her anyway.Â
âWhat brings you away from your work?â she asked, trying to sound pleasant. Her usual struggle with being truly friendly was evident though. If Blackwall minded, he didnât show.Â
He chuckled, âIs seeing you not reason enough, my lady?âÂ
âI suppose,â she replied, turning her head to hide the faint blush on her cheeks.Â
His hand reached out to cup her cheek gently. Blackwall was far bigger than her, could have grabbed her and forced her to look at him. Carta dwarves had done so to her before. Yet, instead he let it rest until she was ready to turn back to look at him. Wet seemed to touch his eyes, shaking his head as if marveling at her. Shiva did not consider herself beautiful, yet he always complimented it. Even in the way he looked at her, he showed that he adored her.Â
After a moment, his thumb moved, wiping the tip of her nose. Her thick ginger brows furrowed as she watched him, only to catch the glisten of melted ice cream on his thumb. Lifting it up to his mouth, he licked the melted dessert away, smiling at her. The pit of her stomach warmed.Â
âYou had ice cream on your nose,â he told her.Â
âI could see that,â she replied, trying to press away a loose curl that had fallen out of her bun. She gestured to the other chair, âCare to join me?âÂ
âYou? Always,â he said, pulling the chair out to sit by her. Once more his hand reached out to cup her cheek.Â
This man was going to be the end of her, she swore it. So, she released a shaky chuckle before lifting a scoop and feeding it to him. He accepted it readily, sharing the last bit of her ice cream with her. Maybe everything would feel right once more.Â
And if Vivienne waited to come back until after the two had finished the bowl? Well, who could blame her?
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Chapters: 33/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Solas|Fen'Harel, Rogue Inquisitor, Varric Tethras, Cassandra Pentaghast, Vivienne (Dragon Age), Sera (Dragon Age), Fiona (Dragon Age), Gereon Alexius, Felix Alexius, Dorian Pavus, The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Blackwall (Dragon Age), Leliana (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford, Josephine Montilyet, Lace Harding, Cole (Dragon Age), Sky Watcher (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Modern Girl in Thedas, not a self-insert, Non-Canon Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Diary/Journal, Alcohol, Swearing, Snark, Pining, Emotional Slow Burn, Explicit Sexual Content, Repeated Poor Life Choices In Bed, Solas Being Solas (Dragon Age), Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Additional Characters to Be Added As They Show Up Series: Part 1 of Wicked Things Summary:
Imogen McLean is glad she's played the series before. She's read all the novels, she's flipped through the comics. She knows what's going to happen. She's got secrets to keep and canon to break. Now if she could just keep her hands off the Dread Wolf, this might all go a bit easier. Besides, he's got plans of his own. He's not the staying kind, and she knows better than to get attached.
You hear that, Thedas? She's not going to get attached. She's not.
 Beta'd by Iron_Angel. NSFW will be marked with **.
Chapter 33 - An Exchange of Gifts and Debt
âThey are coming,â Cole said, and disappeared. Â The Sky-Watcher chuckled.
âA curious little god,â he said.
âWhat do you mean?â
âCompassion has come across the Dreaming to take form in the Waking, inhabiting no body but his own. Â There are such tales from the Lady of the Skies, but I have never seen it with my own eyes.â
âWe're lucky to have him.â
âYou are, Imogen Dreamwalker.â Â Amund's eyes were piercing, as if he could see into her soul. Â She let him look. Â No doubt the 'gods' had told him many things. Â Some of them were likely about her.
âDo you know what I am, Amund?â
âYou have traveled far, farther than the gods can see. Â The others call you Chosen. Â But you call yourself Accidental. Â The old wolf that has haunted my wanderings calls you his. Â A great destiny has been placed on you, to garner so much attention from so many angles. Â It is a difficult path to travel. Â It is good that you are not alone on it.â
âI'm still just one person.â
He smiled again, and it was gentle. Â âThere is always purpose in the Lady's designs. But we are mortal, and not given to understand the whole from the pieces. Â You know what you must do. Â That is enough for one person.â
#Lamb writes#dragon age inquisition#solas x ofc#solas x original female character#what a wicked game to play
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Dar Atishan, A Talk with Cole
âWind and whispers, dreams and demons, âwhy donât they ever want me enough to want me?ââ My ears perked up and I saw Cole walking towards me on the battlements. I glanced at him and returned, hunched over and brooding, watching the snow blow of the tops of mountains. âYouâre hurt and hurting, all three of you wounded, worried, âwas it the right decision?ââ
I turn around and face him, smirking. âDo they have love in the Fade?â
ââHahren Morriel warned me, the shemlen are fickle, but the elf too?â Wanting, wondering, âwhat else could I do?ââ I sighed and patted the battlements. I pushed myself up with my hands and he joined me, legs dangling over the edge. âYouâre sad.â
âI am.â
âThey think it was the right decision.â
âI know.â
âBut theyâre sad, too. Brooding, breaking, âBull said itâd help me with the ladies, but itâd break her.ââ He looked towards the barn. I sighed and looked up towards the sky, clear and full of stars. âDust, danger, delightful, distraction, âif sheâs real, what if theyâre all real, too?ââ
I shake my head. âCole, stop.â
âI want to help,â he says. He looks up, his shaggy hair nearly hiding his big eyes. I put a hand on his knee.
âI donât think you get to help,â I said.
âWhy?â He asks, his voice full of genuine curiosity.
âCan I tell you a story?â
âSixteen, sweating, âWill we make it?ââ
âYes, that story. Stay out of my head, let me tell you, not show you.â He nods and puts his hand in his lap. âWhen I was sixteen, my vallaslin fresh, my sword sharpened, I went on a hunt with a boy.â
âTallen.â
âYes, Tallen. Tallen was a few years older than me, an accomplished hunter. Weâd been out in the forest for a few days. He was certain heâd found some clues that would lead to some ancient artifact, something Keeper Istimaethoriel could make use of. Remind of us of the old ways.â I looked towards Cole, his gaze stuck on the lines arching across my face. âSo we looked. We looked and looked and looked. Days passed, and we couldnât seem to find whatever his sources had led him to.â
âBoredom, bothered, âThis is worse than when the aravel breaks,ââ he said. âSorry. Iâll try to stay outside.â
âThank you, Cole. Yes, I was bored and angry. Iâd only agreed to come along because of Tallen. None of the other hunters thought it was worth our time. The Keeper wasnât especially keen. But Tallen,â I said. I trailed off, taken back to the forest, a girl with fresh ink, so sure of what Iâd chosen, Elgarnanâs markings across my face.
âBut Tallen?â
âRight, but Tallen wanted to go, and I wanted to help, and I wanted to spend time with him, alone,â I said. I looked at Cole and raised an eyebrow. His face stayed as placid as ever. âSo we wandered. We looked. We found nothing. One night, deep in the forest, we found a cave to sleep in. Weâd build a small fire, roasted a bird weâd killed. We sat, quietly listening to the forest.â I looked up at the sky again, constellations dancing around. I heard the Hahren speaking about the legends, the Elven gods, the Dread Wolf.
âAs we finished dinner, I heard stirring from the back of the cave. I didnât have time to fully put on my armor, but I grabbed my chest plate and my blade, I got Tallenâs attention and pointed towards the darkness beyond us. He grabbed his bow, and started to draw an arrow. Before he could get a good shot lined up, darkspawn came running towards us,â I said. Cole closed his eyes. âIâd never seen one up close. Iâd heard stories growing up, of course. Weâd avoided the Blight, but everyone knew of them, their corruption. I got a few good swings, killed one right away. Tallen had time to back up, start taking shots at different ones as they approached me.â
âYou were afraid,â he said.
âI was. I was so young, this was my first real mission.â
âYou lived.â
âOr maybe Iâm a spirit, too, drawn to the dying elf.â
âJokes and jaunting, âlaughter makes it easier,ââ he said.
âDoes it bother you?â
âNo, you still like me. You see me all the time,â he said.
âI thought that was your decision.â
âI did, too. Go on. I like the way your voice carries the past,â he said.
âThe darkspawn kept coming and coming. Soon enough I realized they were too many to fight, the two of us. Tallen called out to me, Â I gave him a clear shot and we ran from the cave. We ran and ran and ran until our legs were going to give out. The darkspawn never let up.. We reached a cliff. The darkspawn were maybe four hundred feet away, running towards us as they had, corrupting everything in their path. Tallen looked over the edge, then back at me. He grabbed my face and kissed me.â
âFirst, frolicking, filthy, âIâd hoped Iâd be clean.â Youâd wanted to kiss him?â
I laughed. âFor a long time. Tallen was so handsome, so strong and brave. Heâd be a good partner, he was a good man. Iâd only come along so heâd be forced to see me as a woman instead of the child Iâd been.â
âDid it work?â
âYou donât kiss children like that,â I said. âWhen we pulled apart, he said, âtrust meâ and put out a hand. I put mine in his, and we jumped over the edge.â
âMaybe you are a spirit,â he said.
âI was lucky,â I laughed. âWe landed in a lake, deep enough that we didnât break any bones. The water helped wash away the darkspawn blood. When I came up for air, I looked around, gasping. I saw Tallen, swam over towards him, put my arms around him, and kissed him again, how Iâd wanted to.â
âHe tasted like fire and lake water,â he said.
I nodded. âWe stood in the water for a time, embracing. Then we found our way to the shore. The darkspawn didnât follow, so we made another small fire and slept for the night. The next morning, when I woke up he was gone. I panicked, put on my chest plate and went searching for him. I saw him on a far hill, picking flowers. Cole, in that moment I could have died.â
âBut you wanted the flowers?â
âGood die, not bad die.â
âThereâs different kinds of dying?â Cole asked.
âI settled back into camp, and he returned. Together we made our way back to the clan. When we arrived, Keeper Istimaethoriel came up and gave us a hug. The Keeperâs daughter, Asharell came up too and put her arms around Tallen. He reached in his pack and gave her the flowers.â
âYou wanted to die then, too. Good die?â
âBad die,â I said. âMy heart broke into a thousand little pieces. Weâd kissed, weâd survived darkspawn, and he picked flowers for the pretty girl back home instead of me.â I stopped and swallowed. The night air on the battlements had begun to chill, and goose bumps rose on my arms. âAfter weâd had a proper bath and a proper meal, I wandered near the halla. Tallen came up to me.â
âKissing, killing, crying, chilling âNo hard feelings?â Oh. He was an ass.â I laughed and patted him on the back.
âYes, he was. Apparently heâd long been sweet on Asharell and wanted to go on this expedition to impress the Keeper so he could marry his daughter. Our daring tale and the flowers had certainly done their part,â I said. âHe came up to me and said, âI hope we can keep it a secret. It was the moment, fear of death and all that.â I nodded, said it was fine. He was afraid heâd die. I was there. People have made worse choices under fear.â
âYou carry this hurt like a scar,â he said. âBut now, it cracks upon, and itâs hurting all the same.â
âWhen Solas and I kissed in the Fade, I was so excited. I hadnât done anything like that in a long time,â I said. âBut when we woke up, he said it was a bad decision, a mistake. So I let him go.â I put my hands on my knees and took a deep breath. âThen Blackwall and I, traveling, laughing. It came so suddenly, I thought the Creators had given me a second chance. We went and found his badge, we sat by the fire light.â Â Â Â Â Â Â âBut he also said it was wrong,â Cole said.
âAfter Tallen and Asharell married, Â I spoke to the Hahren. I needed some advice. He told me, his years of wisdom, âYou cannot beg anyone to love you.ââ
âSo when they said no, you believed them.â
âIâm not going to convince them otherwise. If they donât want me enough to want me honestly, I wonât fight for it,â I said. My eyes welled up and Cole put his hand on mine.
âThey could have been convinced,â he said, âbut that wouldnât have been right. It would have hurt you more than losing them.â
I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. âI think maybe love just isnât for me. Before I wasnât anyone, now Iâm so much more than myself.â
âWillfull, wanting, given, gotten, âIâve given up so much, maybe she could be for me, maybe this woman I could keep,ââ he said.
âThatâs not how I feel.â
âThat isnât you,â he said. I sat up straighter and looked at him. His eyes glanced down, Cullen leaning over the battlements, his own late night stroll.
âJosephine?â I asked. He shook his head. âCassandra?â He shook his head again.
âLost and longing, lyrium-sick, âSheâs so powerful, so strong, how could she ever want anyone like me?ââ Cole looked back at me.
I swallow and look at him, his hands running through his hair. âI never thought, I mean, Iâd flirted, but he seemed so closed off. I assumed,â I trailed off.
ââWhat if the lyrium takes me? What if Iâm not strong enough? She deserves someone strong enough to carry her burdens. She deserves someone without the weight I carry.ââ
âThank you, Cole. This helped.â We hopped off the edge and I gave him another pat on the shoulder.
âThank you. Iâm happy I helped.â
#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#inquisitor#lavellan#Dar Atishan Lavellen#cole#dai cole#lavellan x solas#lavellan x blackwall#lavellen x cullen#cullen#blackwall#Solas#oc#fanfic#dai#dalish#keeper#hahren#i don't know man i'm deep in inquisition hell and I just keep writing these#inquisitor x cullen#inquisitor x blackwall#inquisitor x solas#inquisitor lavellan
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Thora/Blackwall: general - 4, 9 | love - 3, 12 | domestic life - 6, 9
ship meme | @teslacharlatan
4. Were they each otherâs first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?
Thora is thirty-two at the start of Inquisition and Blackwall is, by my own estimate, around forty-three. Both have had plenty of partners, kisses, sex, etc by the time they've met each other. I come from an RP background where I try not to headcanon too much about characters I'm not writing, so I don't have as extensive of headcanons about Blackwall's past as I do Solas', for instance, but I imagine he's had his share. I doubt Thora is the first woman he's ever loved, and he's not the first person she's ever loved.
The only first they'd be for each other is if they ever get married after Trespasser they'd be one another's first husband/wife.
9. Who whispers inappropriate things in the otherâs ear?
Neither are of the appropriate height to do so with any grace. Of the two, probably Blackwall?
3. Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?
Neither are free of sin tbh. Thora's more likely to use them as a joke whereas Blackwall might be more likely to use them unironically.
12. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?
It's debatable whether it qualifies as a nickname, but Blackwall continues to call Thora "my lady" long after Trespasser and she's no longer Inquisitor. It never loses its charm for her, even as more people refer to Thora with titles and a great degree of respect, she doesn't forget that Thom called her "my lady" when she was just the unwilling figurehead of a burgeoning cult. Thora herself actually isn't big on nicknames, she's never called people darling or dear, the only term she uses with frequency is "salroka" which she reserves for platonic/familial relationships, even if Thom qualifies as someone she trusts to have her back it's not something she calls him, you know? She may sometimes steal Varricâs nickname and call him âHero,â but without the spite Varricâs choice in nickname implies.
6. Who worries the most?
Thora, big time. Sheâs been responsible for most of her life and she has made herself dependable by becoming someone who worries about things, so itâs easier to remember them. Becoming a leader to an important order in Thedas and, even after thatâs over, taking on the task of changing Solasâ mind causes her a lot of anxiety (as you can imagine).
9. Whoâs more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?
Thora is more likely to successfully convince Blackwall than heâs likely to convince her. On days theyâre both working I think theyâre both early risers. Inquisitorial duties sometimes start before dawn and we know Blackwall does some training with Inquisition troops, which I imagine also starts quite early. On their days off, however, I think Thoraâs more likely to be the bed siren. Blackwall strikes me as the sort of person who wakes up at sun-up, whereas Thora would like to sleep in until the early-to-midmorning period (like 9am) if she had a say in it.
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