#oc: saoirse the druid

[littlelostmabari]

#Veilguard30 Fic List

One shots & drabbles for Veilguard30, created the wonderful @pavus 💜💜💜

Week 1

Joining [Tumblr] [AO3]

Armor [Tumblr] [AO3]

Vhenadahl [Tumblr] [AO3]

Deep Roads [Tumblr] [AO3]

Bards [Tumblr] [AO3]

Carta [Tumblr] [AO3]

Dragon [Tumblr] [AO3]

Week 2

8. Sovereigns [Tumblr] [AO3] 9. Potions [Tumblr] [AO3] 10. Orlais [Tumblr] [AO3] 11. Harrowing [Tumblr] [AO3] 12. Romance [Tumblr] [AO3] 13. Andraste [Tumblr] [AO3] 14. Campfire [Tumblr] [AO3]

Week 3

15. Vallaslin [Tumblr] [AO3] 16. Lowtown [Tumblr] [AO3] 17. Mabari [Tumblr] [AO3] 18. Close Call [Tumblr] [AO3] 19. Elfroot [Tumblr] [AO3] 20. Demon or Spirit [Tumblr] [AO3] 21. Qunari [Tumblr] [AO3]

Week 4

22. Templar [Tumblr] [AO3] 23. Halamshiral [Tumblr] [AO3] 24. Blood Magic [Tumblr] [AO3] 25. Inquisition [Tumblr] [AO3] 26. Darkspawn [Tumblr] [AO3] 27. Dalish [Tumblr] [AO3] 28. Red Lyrium [Tumblr] [AO3]

Week 5:

29. Dread Wolf [Tumblr] [AO3] 30. Veilguard [Tumblr] [AO3]

[littlelostmabari]

I posted Chapter 20 of One of the Good Ones last night, but here are the last six lines I wrote for that.

"Stand. Down. That's an order!" The woman snarled, her hackles raised, and then slowly relaxed and sheathed her sword, her eyes not leaving Saoirse's until Cullen took a step in between them to break line of sight. He leered down at the recruit, even from similar heights, and she was the first to flinch. "Cul —" Saoirse whimpered, her fingers twitching towards him but lacking the strength to raise her arm. He didn't turn back to her at the sound of his name, but straightened his back, girded himself, and marched forward to oversee the group of Templars loading prisoners into the small boat at the edge of the Waking Sea. She watched him go.

You can read the whole chapter here :)

Tagging @alpydk @skinwalkingxana @pavus, and everyone else who's got a WIP ;)

Last Six Lines

Thank you for the tag @sorceresssundries!

Once again, I am writing smut. I know, you're shocked.

He could feel himself starting to edge closer to the deep abyss of his past, unable to resist the call to surrender to it. He did not deserve this, he did not deserve her.  A gentle pressure, a hand on his heart, the woman he cared so deeply for staring up at him with furrowed brows and those green eyes he wanted to lose himself in. She was a silver glow in the endless night of his mind, a beacon bringing him back to solid ground. He had an inkling before, but he knew at that moment he would never let her go.  “Cullen? Are you -”  He crashed his lips to hers, needing to feel her, touch her, be touched by her.

Open tag to whoever wants to participate! I'm late on responding and I always feel bad if I tag someone who has already been tagged.

[chronicallyclem]

Hey! you! Show me your oc/ttrpg character(s) and a pose, ill draw them! Tell me a little about them too!

Here are my characters :)

Left to right

Xena, Aasimar Warlock

Saoirse, Tiefling druid

Monet, eladrin warlock!

A few more not pictured: Hiraeth, a satyr cleric. Anthea, a wood elf druid. Arcadia, high elf artificer. Minerva, tiefling bard.

I always end up playing magic users?? I have a few martial classed characters and a few other spellcasters i wanteddd to play but never had the chance 😭

[applepi00]

I watched four sided dive this week and now feel the need to give a talk show about my ocs. Someone please ask me any random question you want about any of them. We’ve got:

Moira Amaholi, a seventeen year old wood elf cleric that suffers from nightmarish premonitions.

Saoirse MacLir, a twenty three year old half sea-elf Druid-rogue sailor that’s currently dead and not having a great time in hell but hey she is being forced into facing her emotional problems!

Vivianne Lucifenia/Marlene Nacht, twenty year old changeling warlock-sorcerer. They’re a total shithead but also a kid so it’s fine?

Maybell of Dogwood, a human redemption paladin raised alongside a girl considered to be the chosen one, meant to save the world.

Lucia of Dogwood, a human light cleric born during a solar eclipse and raised to be a saviour figure despite her own reluctance.

[neighawolf]

(I'm basing this on D&D or Baldur's Gates classes as I think thats the one most people are familiar with...outside of FFXIV. I might include Warcraft ones if I have them)

Rornir: Bard/Monk (there are more ways to play bard than just singing. I have a sword dancer bard. I play Bards like international spies lol) Urianger: Wizard/Priest (because books required and also channeling some Gale energy) Alex: (she has a lot because I've had her in a lot of universes...) Paladin/Blood Hunter. She was a paladin and the chosen to Kelemvor and became a blood knight (based off the witcher class, built by Matthew Mercer). In Warcraft she was a Death Knight. In BG3 specifically she was a War Cleric to Kelemvor. Thancred: Bard. That's totally how he's introduced and refered. Bastian: Ranger (Gloomstalker. it slaps better than a rogue. Fight me) Marcechamp: Druid/Ranger (hard to say since he's so rare he has like 3 quests in the game. but I've claimed him and I say he's a druid lol) R'aurora: Artificer (based off of Alex's daughter in the campaign lol) G'raha Tia: Sorcerer. (Hard to class honestly. he does so many roles...but because sorcerous bloodlines are a thing, and his whole Alag thing. plus there's a subclass of Sorcerer called Divine Soul, where you can dual cast healing spells or bump an action to a bonus action with points) Sera: Paladin (crown) Real easy lol Y'sthola: Sorcerer. Pure hecking magic. no books needed. Saoirse: Same categories as Urianger. She did actually train and her archon's privilege under the same tutor as Urianger. Estinien: Fighter (Battle Master) you get more interesting battle maneuvers. And its pretty straight forward lol Mizu: literally the same as Estinien. Himbo dragoon lol Sidurgu: Somewhere along the same lines as Alex. Blood Hunter/Witcher type of build. Sorn'daer: Warlock. He started as warlock of the tome in D&D, bound to the Great Old Ones. In ESO (Elder Scrolls) He's an Arcanist bound to Hermaeus Mora. In Warcraft he's a Void Elf destruction warlock (give me purple fire, damn you!) As much as I enjoyed playing him as a BLM from ARR to SHB, RDM and SMN are better and closer to warlock. Heather: While technically Heather does have the echo in FFXIV, she isn't a battle person and prefers her job as retainer, housekeeper and wife. She's the super powered housewife to the Silver Souls (my OC group) that Tataru is to the Scions. Without her, they'd be lost. and that's the perfect job for her.

Because answering this on tweet site is gonna be hard I'll try and make a thread lol but feel free to ask me here!!

I stole from fren <3 Please ask me about my ship dynamics and/or ships (including all the others that aren't Rorianger/Thanlex) they are: Rornir/Urianger Alex/Thancred Bastian/Marcechamp R'aurora/G'raha Sera/Y'sthola/Aymeric Saoirse/Estininen Mizuki/Sidurgu Sorn'daer/Heather (oc)

[galaxkeys]

quick visual for Saoirse, one of Krokus’ “kids” who I played in last week’s one shot. She’s as shy as she is tall, she likes to hide between her dwarf friend and let her do the talking...

[leftsidebonfire]

This is pretty much exactly how I picture Unaek to sound and she's so cute 😭😭 Unaek is a softie and I even tried to pick clips of things I could plausibly hear her saying 💖🌼

@catboy-kira

[vinegarhydra]

OC: Saoirse Marshcrest, Druid, Neutral

So far as the nearby village is concerned, there have always been three witches in the swamp at the base of the mountains. Every few years a mysterious young woman may pass through, stopping for supplies before taking the narrow, winding path into the marsh, following a calling she cannot quite explain. The villagers pay them no mind, for they keep to themselves in their comings and goings, and for a price they will always aid a man or woman in need.

This small circle of druids, however, exists for more than the occasional ointment, tincture or healing spell. Several of the elemental planes converge and press near here, and while all druids congregate in such places of power, there is something unusual here that raises the hair on the back of their necks. The very land itself seems alive and speaks to them, compelling them to protect it.

In the interest of maintaining the natural order and balance of the elements, the bindings must be renewed every few years, and it is imperative the bindings hold. Saoirse is not sure exactly what it is they guard, but the ritual components are rare and hard to come by and the eldest of the three has sent her away to retrieve them. The land whispers to her that when this is done, she will be free to go as she pleases - that’s got to be true, right?

Art by me, reference image of Katie McGrath used. Please don’t ask me how many hours I don’t want to acknowledge how long it took lmao

[littlelostmabari]

I think this is terribly clever and I am abusing @mumms-the-word 's free tag, lets gooooooo

RULES: post a 24-hour poll containing two truths and one lie about your OC. have your followers try to guess which is the lie.

This is for Saoirse the Druid from One of the Good Ones (my D&D / Dragon Age crossover). 🐦‍⬛

RULES: post a 24-hour poll containing two truths and one lie about your oc. have your followers try to guess which is the lie.

(I’ll do a BG3 one and a DA one haha)

Here’s my BG3 poll for Freyr 😈

Thanks for the tag @queenaeducan !!

I tag @elspethdekarios @sorceresssundries (Janet maybe??) @weaveandwood @orangekittyenergy @callmethebrightness

You guys up for it??

[long-liv-prairies]

@idrelle-miocovani tagged me to make my OCs with this picrew and it was so cute I had to do it! I have waaaaay too many characters but here are some of them...

Top 5 are all D&D characters of mine: 

1. Madrigal Stillwater, halfing druid  2. Lark on the Wing, tabaxi monk 3. Aepryl, eladrin elf ranger 4. Saoirse Waesfir, half-elf warlock 5. Sincere, tiefling rogue.

The bottom 4 are my OCs from my Dragon Age Inquisition MGIT fic and sequel: 1. Naomi Westerkamp 2. Abigail Westerkamp 3. James Westerkamp 4. Nassella Lavellan

[littlelostmabari]

Day 20: Demon or Spirit

I think this is legit an excerpt from One of the Good Ones or it's sequel, once the gang reaches Skyhold. Spoilers that Saoirse lives? I guess? 🫢 Also Quizzy is a bitch, I'm sorry.

Characters: Female OC (Saoirse the Druid, my 5e Girl In Thedas™️), Solas, Cole, Vivienne. Mentioned Saoirse x Cullen

Word Count: 1.2k

"I don't care, get rid of it."

One wave of her hand, and the Inquisitor was up the stairs to the broken down main hall and was gone. Vivienne met Solas' eyes with a smirk.

"An appropriate inaugural decision for the newly appointed Inquisitor," she purred, passing a hand over the soft pauldrons of Solas' armor as she circled him.

"Her inaugural decision was to dedicate the Inquisition to her own power," he responded. "I am unsurprised she has no care for those who do not share her particular brand of ideology." His tone was apathetic, but the grip on his staff spoke a different story. It was gnarled, twisted, and grinding the blunt end into the earth as Vivienne took her leave and made for the healers tents, a spell weaving between her playful fingers.

"His light is bright, but dimmed, darkened, deadened. He dims it because he worries that the brightness could blind. He sees her and thinks he was right. He's not right, he doesn't look in the right places."

"'Ello, Cole," Saoirse replied from her perch above the stairs where Cullen had set up his temporary command center. She had watched the argument unfold beneath her, watched as Cole ended the life of the man she could not heal. It was a mercy — he wouldn't make it to sundown, and nothing they had could quiet his pain. Now the spirit sat close to her, observing the same courtyard.

"He looks at iron and sees rust. He looks at a lion and sees a mewling kitten. A raven, a carrion bird." Cole murmured, watching Solas close his eyes and take in a deep breath. "He hasn't really looked at you, I wonder what he sees, and — oh, it's quiet again." Solas had turned to look up to the parapet where Saoirse and Cole were dangling their feet. He locked eyes with her, and his brows slowly knotted between his piercing eyes. Without thinking, she moved her hand atop Cole's where it rested against the corner of the wall, and squeezed. Solas' eyes darted to held hands, and the knot relaxed slightly as his head tilted to the side with curiosity.

"Why do you do that?" Cole asked, and Saoirse's head snapped to meet the boy's eyes, but they were hidden by the brim of his overlarge hat.

"Do what?" she murmured, attention turning back to Solas who was steadily climbing the stairs back up to what would become the main hall. It was also the most direct path to her perch, unless he could jump or fly the forty feet. She wondered which direction he was heading.

"Hurry, Jhessem, pull your hood up, don't let them see your face. Whatever you do, don't let go of my hand." Cole whispered quickly. Saoirse could see the alley in her minds eye, the one she had dragged her sister down when the Flaming Fist had interrupted her panhandling. They thought Jhessem belonged in the orphanage, and she would never let the Fist take her little sister away from her, so they had run like their lives depended on it. They had run all the way back through to the flophouse where their mother wasn't. "I'm not your sister. Why do you reach for me?"

Saoirse looked down at where her hand rested on Cole's — or rather, where her grip was tight around his fingers. His hand was warm under hers, and much larger than Jhessem's five-year old hand had been.

"You miss her."

"Yeah, I do."

"You gave her everything you had, all of you. You gave her more than you had." Saoirse looked back up, and he had tilted his head up to look at her. "She had everything she needed. The rest is up to her."

Her hand was suddenly wet, over Cole's. Saoirse looked down to see a droplet of water resting on the pad of her hand over her thumb, and then brought the other hand up to her face. She hadn't realized she'd started to cry. She clutched his hand harder.

"You saw me, when the other's didn't," Cole whispered. "It's hard to hide from you, from Solas."

"I suspect it has something to do with her relationship to the Fade." Solas' voice was soft behind them, but it was startling enough that it nearly knocked Saoirse from her perch. He addressed her directly now. "Cole uses the connection that mortals have to the Fade to slip in and out of their minds. It allows him to interpret their needs and hide himself away. I postulate that he has a harder time hiding from someone whose connection to the Fade is tenuous."

"You don't dream," Cole stated, as if it was a commonly known fact.

"I do," Saoirse replied, finally releasing Cole's hand to wipe her face on her sleeves. "But you're right, Solas, I don't go to the Fade when I sleep." Solas nodded.

"Then it is less odd that you would not feel threatened by a spirit who has taken the form of a boy." It was Saoirse's turn to tilt her head. "I speak of Cole. He is a spirit of Compassion, who has entered… has manifested in this world in such a way that he has been uncorrupted by Desire or Despair." He gestured to the space in between Saoirse and Cole. "I am simply commenting that a mage with an anomalous disconnection with the Fade and a spirit who should not be able to manifest in the waking world so clearly… An odd pairing, but not, I think, undesirable. Especially considering the forces that wish to disrupt your existences."

His eyes looked beyond the two of them, back to where Vivienne and the Inquisitor were in a tense, gesticulating discussion on the landing near the main hall.

"I do not believe Skyhold is safe for either of you —"

"I'm not leaving." Saoirse stood, dusting off her breeches. "So don't ask. I'm not here for her, anyway."

"The lion and the mabari, round and round in circles. Which one bites first? Which bites harder?" Cole continued to kick his feet, looking out into the courtyard.

Solas snorted and Saoirse felt a blush creeping up her face, although she didn't quite understand why.

"He can stay with me, if he likes. I can read minds too, if the need arises. And I've gotten pretty good at hiding from Andraste's chosen bitch. Plus…" She sighed. "He reminds me of someone."

When she turned, she found Solas had replaced the curious look on his face with a soft smile. His eyes lingered on hers, then quickly darted to her hands resting on the pommel of her scimitar and dagger, then briefly at Cole, then to her face again.

"When you have a chance, I'd like to discuss these dreams of yours." Without another word, he turned and made for the door that led back into the antichamber where he had begun painting his enormous mural. Saoirse looked back at Cole, and then stuck a hand under his armpit and dragged him up to his feet.

"Come on, kid, Cullen looks like he needs a snack."

"Lion and the mabari, round and round," came the murmur from behind her.

"Yeah, yeah, remind me to ask Varric about that one later."

[neranishin]

TUMBLR DIDN’T LET ME LIST ALL OF MY OCS IN THE TAGS OF THAT POST. RUDE. It cut me off

So have a Rani Has Too Many OCs post cause it’s been a while since I did one of those

Baldur’s Gate Kids:

Maina

Rook/Azalyn

Selwyn

Arhyn

Kriemhild

Enid

Icewind Dale 2 Kids:

Company of Ebonhorn:

Ferrus

Gardrim

Krie

Marianne

Dusk

Aerdeth

Oops I Don’t Have A Party Name For This One And Only Half Of Them Are Still In My Headspace Anyway

Kinael

Zoe/Vivian

Nuka

Neverwinter Nights (and SoU/HotU) Kids:

Ronen

Nemira

Rhis

Neverwinter Nights 2 Kids:

Arizan

Kashimah

Donan

Lilianna

Calypso

Saoirse

Storm of Zehir OCs:

Cadoc 

Llinos

Mariel

Ahani

Shisanni

Cora

Neverwinter Online kids:

Arizan (but older)

Angien

Eladyna

Ranthyr (Paladin)

Eymar

Juniper

William (Warlock)

GW1 kids:

Lisbet

Kylie

GW2 Kids:

Xolinn

Xekken

Ranthyr (Druid)

William (Engineer)

Ahraminta

Alastroine

Strix

Trell

Barkir

Misc. D&D Kids:

Ches

Hazard

Zenril

Rhea

Anumiu

Selwyn (but raised by sirens and terrible)

Hlifrun

William (Rogue)

[corruptedandforsaken]

✅ x all your muses!

Send ✅ for one random fact about an OC of mine!

The Seelie:

They tend to be the most open to human contact.  They are the ones that go out to lead more human lives; though many do stay in, or maintain, residences inside the Seelie lands.

The Unseelie:

They are natural tricksters.  This trait is seen more in the fae that were born after the fae’s civil war.  They had no first hand knowledge of the Seelie, or of how the fae had been when they were all one faction.

The Unaligned:

Those in the Unaligned that have left other factions still maintain their natural bond/connection to their home faction.  It is more of a symbolic break.  To go through the process of breaking that bond or having it broken, is painful.  Some do not survive.  One known to have survived is Catriona Drummond.

The Elder Dragons:

Even though they came from the Earth, many of them still lived a rather “human” life.  They grew, learned, and went through life.  Many of them led lives that sculpted their beliefs and powers.  This was part of Fate’s plan in the creation of the Dragons, teaching them what they needed to know to help the dragons protect the Earth.

The Scion Dragons:

The Elder ones had no idea just what they would be creating when they had children.  They had no idea how their powers would blend.  Some of them blended nicely, while others became almost a curse for the child.  It’s something that has stuck with the Elders, making them more cautious about having children with other dragons.

The Wolves:

The wolves do tend to stick in packs, but they are not so hard set on that.  They have branched out over the years.  Many of them look to Saoirse for guidance, even though she is younger than some of them.  She has earned their respect.  The wolves do not take turning others lightly, which is why it is rarely done.

The Vampires:

There are few vampires left.  After the fae civl war in the 1600s, many of the vampires were wiped out.  Some of them had been captured and used by the fae, only to be killed when deemed no longer useful.  The turning of Mallory Nolan, Torin Cavannaugh, Eoghan, Hannigan, and Simon Walsh was part of a set of experiments Lucien Monroe began in the 1700s.

The Druids:

This group of magical beings were a product of an ancient fae, Minerva, having children with a human.  Ancients carried more potent magic, which made it more prone to be passed on to their children.  This blood line was strengthened when Iona, the Dragon of Nature, had children one of Minerva’s sons.  Those kids, Anders and Lula, went on to be some of the first Druids that decided to be turned into wolves.

The Hunt:

Many of the members on the Hunt now are children of prior members.  They were already versed in the ways of the Hunt, so they were elected to take the place of their parents upon death.  Several of the members have grown up together.  The only current blood relatives on the Hunt are the three fury sisters.

[littlelostmabari]

Snippet Sunday

This is a nibble from the scene I wrote that started this whole fic. ~25k words into One of the Good Ones and we finally meet the Knight-Captain...

I was really proud of this scene until I realized that Saoirse, Cullen, and Carver all have evolved dramatically in OotGO and I need to rewrite a lot of the body language 🥲

His eyes were a whiskey amber to Carver’s brown, and the way he stood with his weight on his back foot suggested extensive martial training that Carver could not yet match.

He reminded her of the paladins that walked the streets of the Upper District of the Gate — sure of themselves, but for good reason, and with the gleaming armor of devotion strapped across well hewn muscle. One of those paladins had taken out a cambion in the district square not a week before she landed in Kirkwall, with a smite that left her blinking away dark spots for an hour.

This responds to @alpydk 's open tag 🥰🥰🥰 We're all mad here, dahling.

[littlelostmabari]

Day 13: Andraste

Characters: Female OC (Saoirse the Druid)

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Saoirse takes refuge in a Chantry.

Drabble from One of the Good Ones, somewhere in Chapter 8 or 9.

Saoirse ran through the streets of Kirkwall, frantically rattling the handles of every door she came across. The bakery, the apothecary, and then she sprinted toward the alleyway that tucked behind a small cathedral.

One door was propped open, and she only noticed because there was candlelight flickering in the shadows of the alleyway. She threw the door open and rushed inside, pulling the doorstop inside and snuffing the candle as she went. The soft click of the latch behind her was more relief than it had any right to be.

Yet the clang of steel pursued her, and she threw a hand over her mouth to stop the noise of her rapid breathing. Her eyes were still adjusting to the dim light in this building and there didn't seem to be anywhere that she could hide here. So she sent a prayer out to Tymora for just the smallest grace of Her luck and shrank into a ball in the shadows next to the door.

Boots struck stone closer and closer and closer and then they… kept going. One pair barely hesitated before continuing behind the others of their squad. She waited a solid minute after the last of their footfalls disappeared from behind the door before she stood, sliding her shoulders up the wall and finally prying her hand from her mouth. When it felt safe enough, she leaned her head against the door and pressed her ear to the wood to listen for any movement out in the alleyway. Hearing nothing, she turned the handle and pushed and…

Nothing happened.

The door was stuck. It wasn't simply locked, it was swollen in the frame and would not budge. She hissed a curse under her breath and let her head fall back. Tymora was fickle — lucky enough to be spared from the Templars but at the expense of her freedom to escape into the alleyway. She moved to kick at the base, but caught herself before she could make any additional noise. Instead, she hissed another curse and turned to the interior of the building. There was candlelight flickering farther inside, so that's where she headed.

She soon discovered that the building she had unintentionally locked herself inside was, unfortunately, a Chantry. It was not the grand cathedral by any means, but there were a few pews and a lay sister or two milling about in the aisles. There wasn't an easy way out the front door from the hallway that hid her. Instead, she stayed hidden in the shadows until her eyes strayed up to the statue that dominated the room. It was carved from stone, and portrayed a beautiful woman in simple Chantry robes with one hand at her heart and one outstretched with a small oil basin lit alight. She wore a crown with three spikes and looked up into the rafters of the small room.

Andraste. Bride of the Maker. That's what Varric had called her.

"Beautiful, no?"

Saoirse didn't realize she had come out of the shadows until she was standing with hands on the back of the pew in front of her. The voice was soft to her right, with a light Orlesian accent. Saoirse was slow to turn her head, but when she did, her eyes found one of the lay sisters in soft brown robes akin to those Andraste was wearing. Her hair was red, and cropped into an A-line with a single braid that fell in front of her ear. Her eyes were bright and glued to the statue at the front of the room. Saoirse slowly turned back when she realized that her way out was blocked.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Not one of the faithful, then."

Saoirse shook her head. "My faith lies elsewhere," she murmured.

"The Chantry accepts all who need shelter, even those without the Maker in their heart." The sister sat, her eyes still up on the statue, and Saoirse elected to sit next to her. She leaned forward onto her knees, her hands clasped, and she looked down into her closed and tangled fingers. They sat in silence for a moment, before the sister began to sing.

Many are those who wander in sin, Despairing that they are lost forever, But the one who repents, who has faith Unshaken by the darkness of the world, And boasts not, nor gloats Over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know The peace of the Maker's benediction.

The fire in the hand of Andraste flickered against the wall behind her, throwing shadows across the wide windows that would normally shine with symbols of Andraste's crusade against Tevinter. Saoirse imagined the strength of the woman that would pull people from all corners of the world against a force that threatened them all. Andraste would face death every day, but for the strength of the people beside her — even the one who would ultimately betray her.

The Light shall lead her safely Through the paths of this world, and into the next. For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, She should see fire and go towards Light. The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.

The windows on the other side of the wall were harder to see, but from what Varric had told her, they would reveal her pyre and her ascension to the side of the Maker. The sister sang of Andraste's courage and faith, which both caused her death and ultimately saved her, if the stories were to be believed. The chanting had stopped, but Saoirse felt her soul linger in the silence, and jumped when the sister spoke once more.

"You need not have faith in Andraste or the Maker to perform the task that He has set before you. He has a plan for each of us, even if that plan is shadowed from our eyes." Saoirse looked up into the eyes of the sister, and found them piercing. There was a meaning to her words that she wasn't giving voice to. "Taking delight in the Maker's creations, loving the things the Maker has given us, following the Light even when we know not where it leads us." She looked back up to the statue. "There is a lot we cannot comprehend about His design for us, and we do not need to know Him to do His work."

"It sounds like you've had a crisis of faith," Saoirse said softly, afraid her voice would carry in the quiet of the empty chantry.

"Recently, yes. I thought I knew what the Maker had asked of me, but when it was done, I found myself hearing only silence." The sister leaned back into the pew with a straight back, poised. "And yet I am here, tending to my Lady's shrine because I have followed Her light to Kirkwall."

"Unfortunate turn of luck," Saoirse snorted, leaning back to mirror the sister. They sat in silence a moment longer, and the rustle of fabric broke Saoirse's attention away from the statue again.

"You know," the sister whispered, "Andraste was born to the Alamarri of Ferelden." Saoirse's curious look caused the sister to smile. "Her birthplace is hotly contested, of course, and the Chasind broke away from the Alamarri long before her birth… but one might wonder if you share any common ancestors."

Saoirse balked, and she was on her feet in an instant. The sister turned her head over her shoulder as Saoirse looked for a way around her to the back of the Chantry where large doors must open into the street.

"You have nothing to fear from me," The woman in Chantry robes giggled, but her eyes flashed, and Saoirse was no longer sure she was speaking to a lay sister. "In fact, I know one of your sisters quite well, we fought together for a time." Saoirse was sure her eyes were bugging out of her head, and she nodded, dumbly. "Sit. Stay a while in the safety of Her grace. You have no fear of Templars tonight."

Saoirse did as she was bade, although her heart rattled against her ribs. She sat and bundled herself against the corner of the pew and looked up into the face of the Bride of the Maker.

"You need not have faith in Andraste or the Maker to perform the task that He has set before you."

Was it the Maker that brought her here, to Kirkwall? Stole her away from all that she knew, to a place that was just as dim as the one she left?

The night wore on, but the fire in the hand of Andraste never went out.

[littlelostmabari]

Day 9: Potions

One day late sorry, yesterday got away from me -_-

This is a scene missing from One of the Good Ones, somewhere in Chapter 8

Word Count: 900 No CW, plentiful references to D&D / Forgotten Realms

Saoirse left her first visit to the apothecary in Hightown with brows tighter than her bowstring.

"I don't know, it just feels like a scam."

"What?! Of course it's a scam, they were asking fifty a pot," Anders grumbled as he wound his way down the busy sandstone stairs from Lowtown to Darktown. "The components aren't that hard to find, and even if you double the normal time it takes to make one, I'd only charge three."

Saoirse hesitated with one foot halfway onto the next step, and the Marcher behind her gave a rough shove as she passed.

"Three… silver?"

Anders nodded. "Elfroot is plentiful in the wild, and even if you sprinkled in some dawn lotus or embrium, the price shouldn't be nearly fifty silver." He spit into the join of the wall and the walkway. "Void-taken bastard taking advantage of the refugees. The only reason it's fifty now is that I… erm…" He coughed into his fist. "… convinced him that a gold quarter-piece each would not keep him in business very long."

Saoirse hurried to catch up with him, her short legs doing double time to keep up with his long ones. Running errands with Varric was so much easier.

"It's just, well, I'm used to them being fifty gold pieces each, and —"

Anders spun around to look at her with a grin on his face like he was anticipating the punchline to a joke. When her words stopped, his lips uncurled.

"Fifty sovereigns each?," he hissed into the air between them. The road ahead of them had mostly emptied out, but it was muscle memory to hide speaking voices the closer they were to Darktown. "So your people just… let the unfortunate die?! Pay a lifetimes wages or bleed out on the street?"

"No! There are temples everywhere that offer free healing services. Chauntea, Ilmater, Torm, Bahamut." There were more that she couldn't remember, thinking back to the Temples district of the Gate. Then, only loud enough for Anders to hear, "— and it wasn't illegal to heal a stranger in need with magic, even in the middle of a crowded street." The last thought might as well have been a growl. "There were people whose whole lives were dedicated to wandering in the name of their diety, healing the sick and tending to the wounded. It was common for a dedicated healer to hire into mercenary bands because it was cheaper than trying to stock potions." She tapped her finger on her chin. "Jobs always went easier when there was a dedicated healer. My teams usually ended up arguing who would scrape the warrior off of the floor."

"I've made a health potion or two in my time and they're not a lot stronger than the healing that I can do. I always thought fifty gold was too much, but I never really had need of them." She shrugged, and then voiced the common thought before Anders could: "It makes you wonder what Darktown would look like if people weren't scared of the Gallows."

Anders harrumphed and she watched his nostrils flare. Her hand was on his elbow dragging him farther towards the clinic before someone thought them suspicious with their carried boxes and started listening closer.

She was leading now, and made a couple of wrong turns in the Darktown labyrinth. Anders didn't catch the mistakes until too late, his mind elsewhere, so it took another fifteen minutes to return to the clinic. He let Saoirse unpack the healing potions and injury kits into the storeroom while he tangled with a man with a broken arm.

The storeroom was a mess — mostly because it doubled as their sleeping quarters. Most of the boxes were of ingredients that Hawke and Merrill had collected from the Wounded Coast and Sundermount. There were several boxes labeled 'elfroot', but the most recent bout of contagious coughing had emptied their stores. Anders would not have otherwise stooped to purchasing healing potions from the scammy vendor.

Saoirse squinted her eyes at the red vial she held up to the lamplight. At first glance, it appeared like the potions she could make of balsam and swamp moss but its viscosity was thinner. There was a silver sheen on any surfaces exposed to air in the vial, which rapidly disappeared as she shook the liquid against the glass.

Balsam and swamp moss — ingredients she remembered now were harder to find than elfroot and embrium. Both she had to scavenge from outside the city or purchase ar prices that would have caused Anders' hair to catch fire. Still, fifty gold pieces for a potion that did as little as a healing word? She made a note to check how much gold she had left in her bag — it was probably several hundred still. She hadn't thought of it as that much but now …

She had just finished tucking the final injury kit into its box in the corner when the door burst into the room to reveal a battered Hawke. Her eyes fell on the new box of potions, and made for them, but Saoirse interripted her path.

"Anders just spent a pretty penny on those." Her hand landed on the front of Hawkes chest, glowing a faint healing green. "Let's see if we can make do without them."