#oc: mithrin lavellan

[brightaxe]

PROMPT : Vallaslin. DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION ERA. Words: 1252. Characters: Suri Cadash, Blackwall, Mithrin Lavellan, Solas, Varric Tethras.

Everything was so wet.

“What is he the god of again?” Suri asked as she stepped up onto a slick stone dais raised inches from the water that pooled across the floor. She shook out her coat, sending a cascade of water droplets off of the leather and down to join its brethren on the sodden ground. “The elven god of slipping and cracking your head open?”

Varric chuckled and wiped a few stray drops from his forehead, likely put there by one drippy string of ivy that dangled from the half-broken ceiling or another. “The elven god of ‘please tell me that was rain.’”

Blackwall snorted. Solas cleared his throat.

Mithrin, however, was quiet, contemplative. His tattooed cheeks were as damp as any of theirs, but he did not wipe them away or shake out his hair. He’d been quiet since the moment they passed the temple’s front doors, only sharing the occasional hushed word with himself or with Solas, likely believing – for good reason – that the others would have little to add to the conversation.

A Warden and two Cloudgazers weren’t really the people you’d expect to have any illuminating thoughts on religion, even when one of them was the Herald of fucking Andraste.

“Mind your tongues, please.”

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[brightaxe]

PROMPT : Close Call. DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS ERA. Words: 2199. Characters: Suri Cadash, Mithrin Lavellan, Blackwall, Solas, Varric Tethras.

Maneuvering around the battlefield with Blackwall, Varric, Solas, and Mithrin at her side was a well-oiled thing – an easy thing, fluid and controlled, with victory often easily grasped. They called out their locations on the field whenever they knew that their position was obscured. Varric scouted out stragglers. Mithrin blocked potential escape routes with pillars of unbreakable ice. Solas drew glyphs into the ground that weighed their enemies down or froze them entirely in place. And Blackwall was there whenever she needed him with his shield, with his rousing words, with his tired smile.

Except… for when he wasn’t.

The ruins of Heidrun Thaig were unforgiving to most of their party. Solas’s concentration withered so deep underground, though he would never admit to such a thing. Mithrin did his best to keep himself calm, but traversing such dangerous depths made calm impossible. Even Blackwall was tense – tenser than she’d ever felt him – and refused any manner of intimate touch, no matter how quiet the moment. Varric had less stone sense than all of them combined, which was as impressive as it was sad.

All around them, the ancient thaig crumbled. Every step left them wondering if this was the one that would fall away into a ravine, or if it was that one that would create a cascade of rock powerful and deep enough to bury them all. Each of them was minutely aware of what would happen to the world if Suri died here, with them, in one of the hidden reaches of their world, and each of them protected her as if she was some precious thing.

Or, at least, they tried their best to do so.

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