#papa sera: politics!!!

[vordenburg]

The first time Sera met Manu, he was sixteen and she was thirteen. “This is the enemy. Never forget that,” her mother informed her, ushering a black-haired, dirty-faced teenage boy into their home before unceremoniously forcing him to his knees on the decorated, mosaic floor of the atrium. He wore a simple black uniform, soiled and torn, its only splash of color the metallic silver of the zips and the bronze-gold shoulder pads — and, of course, the circular insignia sewn onto the sleeve of his upper arm. It read the words: SS Puget Sound.  Sera, who had been studying Federation starships as part of her schooling and by extension cultural indoctrination, did not recognise the name.  “Yes, Mother,” is what Sera said, but what she actually thought was: He doesn’t look like the enemy. He looks like us. A southerner, that was. He lacked the distinctive forehead ridges to be compared to a northerner. The only other differences between the two of them, Sera noted, was that his ears were round instead of elegant and pointed, and that his skin was absent of any green undertone, which indicated that his blood must not be copper based.  The boy looked up at her, then. His body trembled slightly, but defiance burned hot in his brown eyes. Whatever he was afraid of, Sera deduced, it certainly wasn’t them.  “Ah, excellent! Most excellent indeed,” her father exclaimed as he came walking into their stately home, wearing his blue-grey senator’s robes. “I see that you have met Manu. He is to be our new household servant and my imperial cupbearer.” “You mean our new servi privati,” her mother corrected, looking down her nose at Manu with a stern, disapproving look. “Well… I, for one, would much rather look at his face all day than a Reman’s,” Sera remarked. She then moved towards Manu and took him by the arm, not ungently, pulling him to his feet. He was a good few inches taller than she was and Sera now had to tilt her head to look up at him. “Come with me,” Sera instructed, leading Manu away from her parents, who doubtless had words to exchange — heated from her mother and diplomatic from her father — about taking a Hevam boy into their service. Her words as much a guise to escape being dragged into the political debate as much as it was to sate her own burgeoning curiosity about the boy who now purposefully walked beside her.

The Romulan Way: a prime timeline variation inspired by MKS57's fic in which the ritual of "the last one" is actually the last male and female, except where La'an's Mark IV liferaft drifted into Federation space, Manu's drifted into Romulan space instead.

[deviija]

Alright, let's do thisss. Here's my Rook!

Name: Renga Jettine "Jet" Adaar

Codename: Jet Barracuda

Faction: Shadow Dragons Agent

Role: Infiltration & Espionage Specialist

Age: 20

The adopted dwarf daughter of my Inquisitor, Red Bear Adaar, and his husband Iron Bull.

1.

Jettine is a girl in her rebel yell phase of life, coming into her own, figuring out who she is outside of growing up with her two dads and the Inquisition. She's a little cocky in her own abilities, and is in the militant anti-authority mindset that comes with being a young passionate 20 year old with something to prove. Someone that is freshly on their own for the first time, and thinking they know everything and have it all under control.

This extends to her views on nobility, royalty, the power structures involed. She's against it but knows from her soft-handed diplomat papa, Red Bear, that you get more flies with honey and an open dialogue. She grew up watching him and how he moved in negotiations, diffusing hostility with kindness, and navigating a world prejudiced and wary of Qunari. Sometimes you just have to 'play the game,' as her mentor Leliana said. Beat them at their own social webs, outmaneuver them, crack the system from within little by little. And don't get caught.

2.

While not religious, Jet has taken on an agnostic viewpoint like her papa (Red Bear). She believes in the/a Maker, but not necessarily what is written in books and sold by Chantries or the Dalish or the Avvar.

She definitely isn't a believer in the Qun, but appreciates being brought up in a home where it and the politics of it were openly talked about. She learned a lot on the Qun from her dad, Iron Bull, and found the ways Leliana spoke about the Maker and faith (and the struggles of having it) to be deeply meaningful. She desires to believe it all has meaning, that it is all worth something, and that they're not all just flailing in the dark without purpose. If it all amounted to nothing… well, that's more frightening to Jet to even consider.

3.

The biggest motivation in Jet's life right now is to 'make it' on her own, embracing this new free phase of her life, deciding for herself what she wants to do and who she is going to be. Figuring herself out, proving herself (to herself, to her dads, and to the world at large), and doing good along the way for the Greater Good. Being part of the Shadow Dragons, helping to free slaves in Tevinter, sabotage 'experiments' and relics used on innocents, and fight the good fight against ruling oppression, is a big part of that.

Her dream is to be… a somebody. To have left a positive mark on the world, one her dads would be proud of.

Also to kiss a lot of hot girls.

4.

Jettine is an orphan. Her family was killed by demons outside of Redcliffe during the events of the Breach and the demon rifts that opened up across the countryside. Jet was 8 years old at the time. Trying to flee to safer pastures, her birth family (mom, dad, two sisters) moved in with her grandfather on his little goat farm he had outside of Redcliffe. One night, a rift opened right outside and the worst fiery nightmare of her young life happened. Being so small, her sister pushed her into a clothing cupboard to hide when the massacre happened.

The ceiling and stones caved in, trapping her in the cupboard but also keeping her safe from the demons. She spent three days in the dark before Inquisitor Red Bear, Iron Bull, Dorian, and Sera came along to seal the rift and pulled her out of the rubble. She became like a barnacle on Red Bear and Iron Bull after that. Officially they were able to adopt her in Trespasser. Dorian became her godfather and Sera became Auntie Sera. Her adopted family means everything to her. They're all very close.

5.

Card games. Jet loves to play cards - and is something of a card shark pro. One of the only thing she remembers about her birth mother is getting a gift of cards and being taught how to play. The cards had hand painted locales of places from across Thedas, and it instilled within her a desire to see the world for herself. And to carry those cards, and this memory of her mother, with her to all the places she dreamed about.

Playing cards also helps her to focus, organize her thoughts, and strategize. When she needs to think something through or clear her head/decompress, she'll start shuffling. She also has hypermobile joints, can guess any seasoning spice in a dish, and is a great whittler.

6.

Jet's scent is a mix of patchouli, leather, and caramel, with top notes of almond and mandarin orange.

She could eat her weight in spicy almonds.

If she were a meal, she'd be an almond pear tart or an almond stew (Khoresht Badam).

7.

Jet's ruled more by her heart. Her passions set her course, and her dogged determination and sheer willpower carries her through more than logic. Heart, spirit, head, in that order. Despite being highly trained and capable, she's still young and going to make mistakes when passion overrules thought on the crossroads of recklessness and thrill seeking/something to prove.

Her persuasion, diplomacy, and (spycraft) emotional manipulation style is 40 percent Ethos, 30 percent Pathos, 30 percent Logos. Though it can veer more toward 60 Ethos, 30 Pathos, 10 Logos.

8.

The biggest flaws for Jet: the drive to prove herself, being young and overeager and overconfident at times, biting off more than she can chew. Jumping into missions that can end up way above her head in terms of the ripple effect or geopolitical ramifications. She's focused on the short-term, immediate objectives and can lose sight of the much larger picture's butterfly effect.

Irrational regret: She has survivor's guilt and lives with an internal dialogue about how she should've done something to save her family. It doesn't matter that she was only a child. "If only I were smarter, faster, stronger…"

[dalnim96]

manga recs

Hello there. Here is some of my favourite manga, manhua, manhwa or webtoon that I’ve read and think it would be great to share it with you guys.

note: some recs are explicitly mature rated (smut/violence). do note that some works might have different titles used and just so you know, i'm a big sucker for romance (except for yaoi/yuri - just doesn’t fit my liking) oh, and full-color comic just... idk, no reason. p/s: don't judge my taste ㅜㅜ

manga/manhua/manhwa/webtoon

a good day to be a dog

the greatest wolf of my life

spirit fingers

i love yoo

the lady and her butler

his barcode tattoo

something about us

the moon that rises in the day

winter woods

unlucky mansion

bloody sweet

age matters

pinocchio

transparent cohabitation

see, hear, love

my beautiful world

uncle cool

orange marmalade

que sera sera

four years apart

forever mine

nineteen, twenty one

ghost wife

the great merchant, kim manduk

ugly duckling

re-life

zero point idol

the sensual m

machida kun no sekai

your letter

who invited you

secret crush

quoth the boy

annoying alice

devil no. 4

annarasumanara

scorching romance

flighty love (ho gu's love story)

true beauty

my ID is gangnam beauty

bambi to dhole

girls of the wild

sweet spooky darling

50 pixel days

the girl and the geek

back to the highteen

the maid and the vampire

a business proposal

fiery enemies

1 plus 1

positively yours

sesame salt and pudding

the werewolf boy

the devious new employee

straight outta manhwa

oh! holy

light and shadow

the uncanny counter

the girl with a mask

i found somebody to love

wedding impossible

as you wish, my prince

shokuba to jitaku de gyappu no aru papa

kamibukuro-kun wa koishiteru

futari ashitamo sorenari ni

shadow squad

doridosim

the villain's survivor

the island manager

the flower boy

the lovely existence

an hour of romance

the wolf and the puppy

neko to kiss

airplanes

doctor elise: the royal lady with the lamp

jack: the american ghost

romance 101

to love your enemies

crush of a life time

gatabutata

the problem of my love affair

my secretly hot husband

what's wrong with you, duke?

i stan the prince

she may not be cute

iris: the lady with a smartphone

susu, han

picture perfect

cheoyong: a ghostly romance

nice to meet you

your smile is a trap

daddy boy

a spoonful of your love

lady evony

just a girl he knows

fire me if you can

villainess in love

hello summer

ooh la la

jinx yeon-in

what are we?

my cute beast

sarang and pyeonggang's ondal

the duchess who sees ghosts

the villainess is a marionette

i was tricked into this fake marriage

season of blossom

let's do it after we marry

the flower dances and the wind sings

please take care of me in this life as well

love of mine

from today on, i'm a boy

fishbowl garden

the man's game

she's hopeless

act like you love me

sixth sense kiss

this villainess wants a divorce

tricked into becoming the heroine's stepmother

the first night with the duke

how to raise the devil's child

for better or for worse

a symbiotic relationship between a rabbit and a black panther

the villainess lives again

the blue guardian of the princess

elixir of the sun

villain are destined to die

false confession

black winter

ginger and the cursed prince

i raised a black dragon

the tyrant's sister

the villainess needs her tyrant

i'll politely decline the male lead

sekai de ichiban itaranu koi

ghost-kun was an unpolished gem

springtime by the window

anyone can become a villainess

when the villainess is in love

i found a husband when i picked up the male lead

the villainess maker

i didn't mean to seduce the male lead

beware the villaness

what i decided to die for

i became the villain's mother

leveling up my husband to the max

his majesty's proposal

koori zokusei danshi to cool na douryo joshi

the soulless duchess

i'll just live on as a villainess

i will make an effort to change the genre

i'll be the matriarch in this life

who made me a princess

finding camellia

kono kaisha ni suki na hito ga imasu

please marry me again, husband

once again, into the light

when the count's illegitimate daughter gets married

revenge marriage

untouchable lady

marry me!

love phantom

the story of park's marriage contract

kill the villainess

my in-laws are obsessed with me

it takes more than a pretty face to fall in love

the bittersweet couple

when the flowers bloom

wife after love

let's get divorce, husband

dragon king's chef

villains behind the curtain

the princess double life

yamada-kun to lv999 no koi wo suru

living no matsunaga san

the common story of a lady's new life

will you marry me again if you are reborn?

father, i don't want this marriage!

the fantasie of a stepmother

please don’t come to the villainess’ stationery store!

i became the male lead's adopted daughter

the skeleton becomes a cat dad

marriage and sword

four kisses in secret

operation name pure love

another love

the huntress and her love prey

dangerous yet sweet onii-san

charlotte and her five disciples

atsumori-kun no oyomesan

spy x family

a villainess for the tyrant

happily ever afterwards

i have become the hero's rival

secret lady

ojou to banken kun

mainichi kiss shite ii desu ka?

kawaii nante kiitenai

i fell into a reverse harem game

a transmigator's privilege

the silent daughter of the duke and the cold emperor

the great wish

a sign of affection

mobuko no koi

i don't feel like doing anything

otonari ni ginga

marry my husband

i will seduce the northern duke

meido no koi wa enma shidai!

love and courage (oh, my yonggi boy!)

maybe meant to be

some hairy business

marriage of convenience

the man with pretty lips

yamaguchi-kun wa warukunai

fundari, kettari, aishitari

the broken ring: this marriage will fail anyway

the girl downstairs

the beloved little princess

unmei no hito ni deau hanashi

boyfriend next door

what happens in rio (carnival baby)

our secret alliance

the lady and the beast

i have no health

i'll take good care of you in this life, your majesty.

miss time

when i quit being a wicked mother in law, everyone becomes obsessed with me

secret romance 2022

pure villain

writer's block of romance

two steps away

swimming lessons for a mermaid

coffee thief

mokrin

my husband changes every night

the president special instruction

the doctor is out

hello baby

another typical romance fantasy

my one and only

after school lesson for unripe apples

the falcon princess

your eternal lies

kidnapped bride

the duke's bored daughter is my master

the fantastical after-school writing club

secret mimi

superstar from age 0

rewritting our love story

museru kurai no ai o ageru

the spark in your eyes

the divorced evil lady bakes a cake

watashi-tachi ga koisuru riyuu

come on - a my house

my husband is a housewife

my far too tumultuous marriage

revelation of youth

schoolmate friend

inso's law

combini de kimi to no 5 fun kan

megane, tokidoki, yankee-kun

kimi ga suki

the meaning of you

sweet and tart boyfriend

invisible man & human lady

kimi ga kirai na koi no hanashi

once more (again with you)

the night without shadow

wish upon a husband

i became the villainess in a disastrous novel

the northern duke needs a warm hug

the trophy husband

i tamed my ex-husband's mad dog

the castle - keeper of the sacred eyes

shi ni modori no mahou gakkou seikatsu wo, moto koibito to prologue kara

summer fever

savor the taste

raised by the villains

the heart wants what it wants

three lifetime

the baby saint wants to destroy the world

beloved in-laws

the legendary beasts animal hospital

check in to your heart

forget my husband, i'll go make money instead

my farm by the palace

for my derelict favorite

becoming the dark hero's daughter

sorry i'm not an angel

matcha made in heaven

itonami itonamezu

boku wa imasugu zense no kioku wo sutetai - akogare no inaka wa jingai makyou deshita

toaru tenin to kyaku no hanashi

majo-senpai nichijou

just twilight

my classmates are vampires

a tipsy marriage proposal for the emperor

reforming the obsessive male lead

side characters deserve to be loved too

let's meet after work

fall for you

friends shouldn't act this way

the runaway lead lives next door

the villainess's princely predicament

kingyoya-san no karisome fuufu

the lady need a break

he accidental heiress

the flowery path for the devastated male lead

the unseemly lady

i spy my married life

i can't keep up with my stallion duke

gokugoku futsuu no fuufu no hanashi

childcare diaries

the princess doesn't want to marry her ideal type

the tyrant's comfort doll

i raised my fiance with money

My childhood friend becomes an obsessive husband

ne ne ne

i raised my childhood friend as a tyrant

once upon a time in zombie empire

how to prey on your master

yano-kun no futsuu no hibi

the duke's villainous daughter is depressed

taming the marquess

how to gracefully divorce a dragon

my mother got married by contract

please marry me again

before death do us apart

kiyoku, yamashiku, modokashiku

dam of the forest

black dragon's choice

kimi wa nazotoki no ma cherie

hachioji meibutsu tengu no koi

why are you obsessed with your fake wife?

it's just a contractual marriage

writing my male lead happily ever after

my villainous family is against independence

three b(r)others

the monster duke mistook me for his wife

a campus romance, i guess

turning the mad dog into a genteel lord

dealing with demons

shujinkou nikki

the law of being friends with a male

the problematic prince

i'm just having fun with the time limit

the empress wants to avoid the emperor

a kiss is not enough

the baengri clan's unwanted granddaughter

accidental love

the mafia's nanny

the older sister of a maniac prince

how to satisfy the devil

reincarnated as a villaness, i'd rather raised a cat

the nerd turned out to be the tyrant

couple, how far can you go?

gimme that pacifier

i think i have transmigrated somewhere

30 minutes with you

the villainess captured the grand duke

my boss doesn't have a face

as leticia wishes

how can there be a divorce when we haven't married, your majesty?

rated mature/smut/violence/horror (18+ only) 🔞

note: read at your own risk.

bastard

an innocent sin

h-mate

you’re not that special

hwaja

sweet dream

summer solstice point 

say you love me 

340 days 

340 days sequel: unmelting words

be my guest 

oogami-san, dadamore desu 

under the oak tree

toy complex

sweet home

the missing o

the losing streak

sweat and soap: baby making book

the blood of madam giselle

hardcore vanilla

honnou switch

my bad boyfriend

this witch of mine

the whale stars

the beloved concubine

my friend's hidden charm

watashi wa okazu senpai ni taberaretai

a kind goblin's bride

sweat and soap (series)

the moon on the cliff

the virgin witch

the naughty exorcist and his captive demon

honey, i'm going on a strike!

obscene houseplay

the artist and the beast

peach sorbet

christmas no yoru ni

last order wa ojou-san de dekiai jouren kyaku ni kyuuai saretemasu

the blood of the butterfly

superstitious nine

obscene baguette

kuro bengoshi no chijou sekai de ichiban omoi junai

my childhood friend can't be this big!

the dilettante

apollo's heart

the men in my bed

highschool lunch dad

homeless

hotaru no yomeiri

fire in the swamp

dattara ore ni horeteshimae

tsurenai kanojo no hitorijime 

hana and the beast man

kimi to koete koi ni naru

taming of the shrew

konomi ja nai kedo~ mukatsuku ane to aishou batsugun ecchi 

ideal recipe

our sunny days (bl)

kami-sama yorimo yakuza-sama

tadano renai nanka de kikkonai-kojirase joushi to fechina buka

konoe no kyuujitsu

devil's wish

childhood friend complex

quiet in the office!

tears on a withered flower

joseon dynasty erotica records

i don't want to bed you

there's a rat in our house

how far are you okay with?

kitsch wedding

marriage situation

merry psycho

[warningsine]

Greek actress and singer Irene Papas, who gained international recognition starring in classic 1960s films such as "Zorba the Greek" and "The Guns of Navarone", has died at the age of 96, Greece's culture ministry said on Wednesday.

Papas enjoyed a 50-year film career capped by John Madden's "Captain Corelli's Mandolin" in 2001 alongside Hollywood stars Nicolas Cage and Penelope Cruz, and Manoel de Oliveira's "A Talking Picture" in 2003, her final performance alongside Catherine Deneuve and John Malkovich.

"Zorba the Greek", a smash hit in 1964, in which she starred alongside Anthony Quinn and Alan Bates, captivated international audiences with its soundtrack - especially "Zorba's Dance" - composed by Mikis Theodorakis.

Papas also collaborated with late composer Vangelis on folk song album Odes and on 666, the final studio album of Greek progressive rock band Aphrodite's Child.

"Majestic, stately, dynamic, Irene Papas was the personification of Greek beauty on cinema screens and on the stage, an international star who radiated Greekness," Culture Minister Lina Mendoni said in a statement.

"With the power of her talent and the charm of her personality, she conquered the world of cinema and theatre."

Papas suffered from Alzheimer's disease in recent years according to Greek media. The culture ministry did not say when she died.

She was born in a village outside Corinth on the Peloponnese peninsula to a family of teachers; her father taught classical drama.

Among her biggest early successes was the title role in 1962's "Electra", a cinematic transcription of Euripides' ancient Greek tragedy directed by Michalis Cacoyannis.

She played a Greek island resistance fighter against Nazi occupation in "The Guns of Navarone" and a young widowed woman on the island of Crete in "Zorba the Greek".

Her liberal political views forced her into exile in Italy and the United States in 1967-1974, when a far-right military junta ruled Greece.

With her long dark hair, pale skin and thick arched eyebrows, Papas became a symbol of Mediterranean beauty.

Married twice, Papas told Italy's Corriere della Sera daily in 2004 that "the passion of her life" was the Oscar-winning screen star Marlon Brando, whom she met for the first time in 1954 in Rome and for the last time in 1999 in Athens.

[bhaalble]

An Invitation- A Post-Trespasser Fic

So people have been showing interest in Sythia and I typed up this drabble forever ago about her being approached by my Inquisitor, Astyth Cadash. I’m always a slut for “returning heroes” and until da4 comes out, post-Trespasser is my playground

However, due to it being Fanfic Author Appreciation Day, I’d like to turn this into an invitation. Write up a drabble about what your warden, your Hawke, your Inquisitor, whoever you feel, is up to in a post-Trespasser world. How they’re dealing with the impending apocalypse (again). Tag me in it! I’ll try and reblog what I can.

So, without any more rambling...

It feels strange to be traveling on her own. The woods feel lonesome somehow without Sera and Dorian’s constant bickering, or Cole’s strange musings, or even Cassandra’s long-suffering sighs. Bull had offered to come with her, and she’d nearly accepted: it had been a long time since the two of them had taken a truly private trip.

But ultimately this was one she needed to take alone.

Almost all of her advisors had been against this, Cullen in particular. “Hero or no, she travels with one of the most well known and dangerous apostates in Thedas, not to mention one to whom you granted the magical knowledge of hundreds of elven mages!”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your personal encounter with the Warden, would it Commander?” Leliana had said coolly, though her expression had betrayed nothing as she peered over the missive from Harding.

Cullen had said nothing, but lapsed into silence. There was a story there, one Astyth was dying to find out, but she had a feeling nothing good could come of prodding her commander further. “Apostate or no apostate, I’m sure the Hero of Ferelden can’t have much motivation to see me dead. They have as much stake in the threat of Solas as anyone. Not to mention Morrigan is the only expert on eluvians we have any kind of contact with.”

“While I don’t quite share his...fervor�� Josephine said, cutting across Cullen’s retort. “I agree with the principle of what the Commander is saying. Warden Tabris is a chess piece too important and too....volatile, to play in private. If we are going to bring her into the fold at this stage, it would be better to extend an invitation for her to come to Val Royeaux. She would be playing in our court, and additionally, she would be publicly lending some credence to our cause that we lost as the Exalted Council. We should-”

“She wouldn’t come, Josie.” Leliana said, putting the map down and straightening up. “Even if I asked personally, she doesn’t like to play politics.” She looked down at Astyth. “I think the plan is a sound one, Inquisitor, and furthermore, I think you should leave as soon as possible. Get away from Orlais for a bit while the talking heads wear themselves out. When you come back, with any luck, Josephine and I will have smoothed a few ruffled feathers, or plucked them. Meantime, Cullen can focus on marshalling the forces we have left.” She looked sidelong at the ex-templar. “Does that sound amenable, Commander?”

Cullen grumbled something seditious under his breath, but since becoming Leliana had become the Divine he had been reluctant to engage in their usual arguing. He heaved a heavy sigh and looked Astyth in the eye. “Its up to you, of course. But I can’t help but feel this will be a waste of resources at best, and an open invitation to something very dangerous, at the worst.”

“Its a risk I’ll have to take.” Astyth said, rolling up the map. “I’ll set out soon. Tell Dennett to have my horse ready.”

And now here she was, trodding through dense woods in the southern end of the Emerald Graves. Despite the Inquisition’s presence in this region, it was clear that this location had been intended to not be found. She had to abandon her horse to even have a hope of navigating these steep paths, and more than one bear skull mounted on a couple of broken pikes didn’t make for the most welcoming of images.

She didn’t know what to feel as she kept climbing. The Hero of Ferelden....she had just joined the Carta when the Blight began, and at the time had been too mired in trying to find her footing in the underworld of Orlais to care for much outside that. After her ill-fated stint with the Legion of the Dead, though, she knew better than anyone what a feat it was that she had accomplished. The versions of the stories that got to the bards of Orlais had no doubt been twisted and embellished, but they had inspired no small curiosity and admiration of her.

And then there were Leliana’s stories. Astyth flattered herself at this point that she had shaped Thedas’ future more than once, but she had nearly always had the full might of the Inquisition at her back. To do all these things with a ragtag force and next to no official recognition....half of them would’ve seemed unlikely. All of them, impossible.

She didn’t know what to expect. Leliana was fond of her, but had more than once described her as difficult to know. Morrigan had pointedly refused to discuss her while she stayed with the Inquistion, and Alistair had done the same (though, likely for very different reasons). 

Bull had always said she overthought things like this. She always countered that it was her job. She had to care about first impressions, about making a connection with people. Whether or not she actually was Andraste’s herald, her truest power came from her ability to inspire others to follow her. She was good at it too. But if it failed now...

There was a sudden thunk of a blade on wood, and she stopped. 

The path wound ahead for a little ways, but she could hear distant voice, and her instincts ultimately led her towards the sound.

“-depends what you’re looking for.” A woman’s voice. A bit out of breath, and punctuated occasionally by further thunks. “Personally, I prefer a little more-” thunk. “Power behind my strikes.”

“Papae says speed is more important.” A boy’s voice. Well, a teenager, likely, based on the cracks. And strangely familiar.

A snort, and another thunk. “Papae can talk about speed when he manages to take down a darkspawn horde on his own.”

She can see them now. A small clearing. A dark-haired boy she realizes with a thrill is Kieran, a bit taller and a little older now. He is playing with a dagger, watching an elven woman with hair so red it seems to glow chop wood. A bit aways she can see a decent sized cabin, smoke coming out of the chimney.

“Mamae, when are you going to say hello to our visitor?” Kieran says, without so much as looking away from the woman. “She’s come awfully far.”

“Visi-” The woman’s head turns, and she catches sight of Astyth.

For a moment, neither of them move. Sizing each other up, perhaps, or maybe the warden is just trying to figure out who she is. She hoists the axe onto her shoulder, casually, but perhaps also an unconscious warning.

Astyth examines her. Her face is etched with crimson vallaslin, an unusual color, so far as she knows. Even more unusual for a non-Dalish elf. Behind the markings, she can see lines starting to appear. She must be in her mid forties, but looks strong and healthy as can be. Her brow furrows a bit as she seems to give up the puzzle in front of her.

“....I’m sorry, can I-”

“Hello Inquisitor.” Kieran says cheerfully, slipping off the tree stump he’d been perched on. 

“Hullo, Kieran” Astyth says, managing a friendly smile towards him before returning her gaze to Sythia. “How is your mother?”

“She is well, but I don’t think she’ll like that you’re here.”

No, I don’t expect she will, she thought to herself.

“Inquisitor?” Sythia Tabris cocks an eyebrow. “Ah. So you’re her then.”

“I am. Astyth Cadash. Its an honor to meet you.” Astyth says, clasping her hands behind her back.

The elf snorts, lowering the axe to the ground. “Don’t know about honor.” She nods to Kieran, who hands her a basket. Tabris crouches to the ground and begins gathering the split wood. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping for some guidance, if you had some time.”

“Guidance?” She lifts the now full basket and gets to her feet, and Astyth realizes with a start that one of her legs is a prosthetic. It’s well made, but clearly a little worn. “What guidance could the Inquisition need from me? I’m assuming you know which end of the sword to stick in darkspawn, and as for not pissing off nearly every Ferelden noble, well, I was never much good at that.”

“Have you come about the Wolf?” It shouldn’t startle Astyth as much as it does. She should be used to it from Cole. But the child tilts his head, eyes bright with curiosity. “He’s not here, you know. Sometimes I see him at night, but he flits back and forth so fast I can’t ask him where he intends to be. I don’t think he knows.”

“Kieran,” Sythia says, tone not changing from one of quiet politeness. “Why don’t you go tell your mother we have a guest. I’m sure she has some choice comments she’ll want to prepare in advance.”

The boy doesn’t seem to mind, carefully placing the dagger on the tree trunk and running back to the cabin, leaving just Sythia and Astyth alone in the clearing. The warden nods her head towards the cabin and starts walking, leaving Astyth to catch up.

“I have to say, I was expecting you sooner.” Tabris says. Her gait, Astyth notes, only slightly favors the false leg. Clearly she’s used to it. Much more than she is to her own prosthetic, at least. “When I saw Leliana’s agents doing their best impression of field mice I was expecting a house call from your soldiers the next week at least.”

“Things have...been a bit hectic, of late.” Astyth said, running a hand through her white crop of hair. “As I’m sure you’ve heard.”

The warden nods, placing the wood by a small heap of firewood near the door. “I’ve heard rumors. Something about the apocalypse. The usual.”

“Leliana will be disappointed when I tell her you found her agents that quickly.” She says, handing her wood. Sythia gives her a long look before accepting it and carefully stacking it.

“To be fair, I live with one of the best assassins in Thedas, a child with the soul of an old god, and a pretty good guard dog.” She straightens up. “And Divine Victoria should learn to accept the fact that she has a full plate, and not make more work for herself sending people after me.”

She turns and starts mounting the steps to cabin porch. Astyth notes four chairs, gathered in a circle around a small pit holding the ashes of some long dead fire, and a side table holding books, a whetstone, and a pack of cards. Four chairs....Tabris, Morrigan, Kieran, and the fourth....

“My dear, have you seen my-...ah, company then?” 

A blond elf emerges from the cabin, examining Astyth with an amused glint. He’s handsome, to be sure. The lines around the eyes indicating a wealth of smiles, and his hair falls luxuriantly to his shoulders. Sythia’s shoulders seem to lose a bit of tension just at the sight of him, and she points back to the stump. “If you’re looking for your knife, your son has taken a sudden interest in fighting with speed.”

“We can’t all heft battleaxes, mi amor,” He leans in and pecks her cheek, pulling a smile as bright as it is involuntary from the Hero of Ferelden. “We leave that in your capable hands. Now, this is the Inquisitor, I take it?”

“Master Arainai.” She bows her head in acknowledgment. “Its an honor.”

“‘Master’? Now that I could get used to.” A mischievous grin creeps across his face, which somehow only makes him more dashing. “However, Zevran will do. I assume you have business with my wife? I warn you now, however much need Thedas has of her, it will take some convincing to get us to relinquish her.”

“I have no plans to take Warden Tabris from her home, I can assure you.”

“Mother wouldn’t let her anyways.” Kieran says, poking his head around Zevran’s side.

“Very true.” Zevran says, reaching down to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Now, Kieran, I think its time we give your mothers some privacy while we find something for supper.”

“Can I keep the dagger?”

“Mmm, for now, I think, if only to annoy Mamae.”

The boy giggles, for the moment wholly child, and runs to fetch it. Sythia rolls her eyes and kisses Zevran. “Don’t go too far. As it turns out, these woods are no longer private.”

“Please, when have you known me to be reckless?” He tucks a strand of her hair back, fingers tracing down to linger on a gold earring, a simple gold circle studded with one ruby that Astyth realizes matches one on his own ear. 

“Mm, you’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Sythia says, a faint laugh in her voice.

“I’ll see you soon.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. Then he leans in to whisper something Astyth can’t quite catch. The warden’s face goes red, but suddenly the former Crow is off, guiding Kieran into the woods.

Astyth finds herself missing Bull, for a number of reasons. 

“I-...” Sythia clears her throat and gestures for her to come in, opening the door.

The inside is clean, but hardly spacious. Trinkets and books seem to fill every surface. Some oddities she recognizes (a stuffed nug, an Orlesian mask, a few books she remembers from Dorian’s collection) and others are a mystery (why a rainbow sword?). Every member of this household seems to be some variety of packrat, but regardless, its cozy, with an overstuffed sofa and a fire crackling in a hearth. 

The peace, however, is marred by a clattering of dishes coming from what appears to be the kitchen. The noise is too loud to be accidental, and there are some sharp huffs that Astyth recognizes as Morrigan. 

Sythia looks warily towards the kitchen and gestures to the sofa, holding up a finger to indicate one moment. Astyth decides to take her advice, and her seat as well.

Sythia disappears into the kitchen. The clattering stopped, but is replaced by furious whispers that threaten to become shouting soon enough.

“-taken enough, and if they-”

Sythia’s voice cuts across, gentle and murmuring, until eventually there is silence. Finally, a long heave of a sigh, and Morrigan emerges out of the kitchen like a stormy wind. Sythia is only just behind her but there seems to be some subconscious attempt on Morrigan’s part to shield her from view, as if Astyth might forget she’s there if she can’t see her. “Inquisitor. What an unexpected pleasure.” The sarcasm lingers heavily on the last word, and the apostate’s yellow eyes are crackling with warning.

“Its nice to see you too, Morrigan.” Astyth says, forcing herself to keep her tone light. At other times she had gotten on quite well with the witch, but then, at other times she hadn’t posed a threat to her wife. 

“Before you read off whatever long-winded summons your Chantry has sent you with, let me make it clear from the very start: we are not in the least bit-”

“Morrigan.” Sythia says quietly, slipping a hand through hers and coming along beside her. It’s hard to tell but Astyth thinks she might be a bit amused. “Let’s hear her out before you tear her to pieces at least.”

“I don’t see why.” Morrigan mutters, though her fingers lace instinctively through the elf’s. “It’s more efficient this way.”

“I really am only here to talk” Astyth says. “I do have an offer, but its secondary, if anything. I came here on my own, not as the Inquisitor.” She tries for a wry smile, tilting her head. “At least listen to what I have to say, so I don’t have to admit to Cullen this was the waste of time he thinks it is.”

It’s a cheap attempt, but it does almost seem to give Morrigan pause. That almost pause is enough time for Sythia to guide her into a seat, taking the one next to her. “Well. Can’t have Cullen thinking he’s right about something.” She turns to lock eyes with Astyth, and nods for her to speak.

“So....I’m assuming you’ve heard about my friend Solas then?”

“Bits and pieces. And Morrigan’s been noticing something’s off with the eluvian.”

“And when exactly did you find the time to pry into my notes?” Morrigan grumbles as she sits back. Clearly intending to endure this conversation with as little grace as possible, if she must endure it at all. Sythia only smirks and doesn’t respond to it.

“In any case, I’d like to hear your version of events.” 

“.....well, in order to understand it....I’d think you’d have to understand Solas.” Astyth says. Fingers tracing out patterns in the couch.

-----

She tells the story, beginning with Haven. She plunders her memory for anything, any small detail that might be useful, as she has done time and time again since her best friend disappeared into an eluvian with the promise to bring an end to everything she cared about. 

She tells of an elven apostate, mysterious and distant and a bit condescending, but kind in a way that’s hard to place and infinitely knowledgeable. She tells a story of alliance, friendship....and ultimately, betrayal.

Morrigan spends a good portion of the story making derisive noises and rolling her eyes. But when she comes to the elven orb, and the Exalted Council, the witch falls silent. She bites the corner of her lip in thought and at times her eyes widen in some kind of private realization, though she’s doing her best to mask it.

Sythia, for her part, says nothing. Slowly leaning forward, propping her elbows on her knees, she only watches the Inquisitor intently. Expression neutral, betraying no sympathy, but also no hostility.

Finally, she comes to the final confrontation. With perhaps a touch of dramatic flair, she pulls off the glove on her left hand, revealing a hand of copper metal. Morrigan flinches, just a bit, though Sythia does nothing more than tilt her head a bit.

“As it stands,” Astyth says, rotating her wrist a bit. “I’ve lost whatever control I had over the Fade, at probably the worst possible moment. Which is why I require your help.” She looks them both earnestly in the eye. “Both of you are more experienced than most with the Fade realm. And given that Merrill hasn’t been seen for months, Morrigan is the foremost living expert on eluvians we know of. I wouldn’t even require a physical presence. For the moment, at least, this isn’t your fight. But any notes, any piece of information you find....it may be exactly what we need to save us all from destruction.”

For a moment there is silence in the room. Morrigan has a stormy expression, looking at war between several desires at once. A mortal desire to not have the world destroyed, an apostate’s desire for new and possibly dangerous knowledge.....and a wife’s desire to protect her loved ones from harm. Her eyes keep travelling to the copper shine of Astyth’s arm, as though it is a physical reminder of everything she fears to lose Tabris to.  Just as Astyth opens her mouth to try and provide further assurances, Sythia abruptly gets to her feet.

“I’d like to talk to you alone for a moment.”She says, slipping her hands in her pockets and nodding towards the porch. Astyth hesitates for a moment, but ultimately follows the Warden outside. Morrigan decides not to follow, evidently reading something in her tone.

The story has taken time, and the woods are growing darker and darker. Sythia leans back against the railing and gestures towards a seat, which Astyth takes. “So, first question: where did you get your arm?”

“Oh-...” It takes Astyth by surprise, and self consciously she runs the hand through her hair. “Bianca Davri’s innovation. We commissioned her.”

Sythia nods slowly. “She does good work. Not that I have many complaints with mine.” She swings her leg a bit as if to demonstrate.

“Who did it?”

“Best blacksmith I ever met. Wade, of Denerim. He was eager for the challenge, and possibly owed me a favor.”

“....can I ask....”

“How it happened?” A wry smile spreads on her face as she looks out over the clearing. “Its a long tale, Inquisitor, and I was never much for stories. Suffice to say, curing the taint is no simple task.”

“And have you?  Cured it, I mean.” She had heard nothing of it.

“......It remains to be seen. Regardless, its quieted the damned singing for a few minutes, which to me is worth a couple of limbs.”

“Lucky” The word slips out, and even she isn’t quite sure what she means by it. Lucky to be cured, or lucky that at least there’s a good cause that’s taken your body? Sythia seems to understand, at least.

“I am. In many ways.....” Her voice is soft as she fiddles with something on her hand. A ring, simple silver, but well worn. “Still, when Morrigan found me in the aftermath I thought she might just finish the job. She was furious.”

“She was angry? With you?”

A rush of air through her nose that might be a snort and might be a sigh. “Morrigan’s had....an unusual raising. There’s nothing she’s more afraid of than weakness. Than loss. To her, the leg represents both, try as she might to hide that fear from me.”

“What does it represent to you?”

The elf says nothing for a long moment. “....you know, that warden motto never sat right with me. Perpetual war, perpetual vigilance....comes across as an excuse for anything we might do in the interim between the Blights. But they got something right with the idea of sacrifice.”  Through the woods comes a peal of laughter Astyth recognizes as Kieran. The hunters returning, and Sythia’s head turns instinctively towards them. 

“...I’ve sacrificed a lot to get here. And I’ll sacrifice a lot more to keep it. So to me....its a promise. In the same way your arm is a promise.” She turns to face her. “That there’s hard journeys behind and beyond where you stand now. But where you stand? Well....that’s worth keeping.”

They finally come into view, Kieran on some long-winded musing speech as he circles Zevran again and again. The former Crow has a brace of rabbits in either hand and is listening with amusement to the child’s story. His eyes meet Sythia’s and there’s a glint there Astyth knows. It’s how Sera looks at Dagna. How Krem looks at Maryden.

How Bull looks at her.

“Tell your council: I’ll come to Val Royeaux, if they can provide accommodations for my family.” Sythia says, a slow smile spreading as she waves to Kieran.

“I-” Astyth feels a surge of excitement. This was better than they had ever hoped. “Are-...are you sure? The notes would certainly be more than enough-”

“Knowing how these matters usually go, the notes won’t be enough. You’ll need Morrigan’s expertise, my experience, and a bit of Kieran’s insight. And....well, Zevran’s coming for morale.” She grins, before looking back at Astyth. “You were wrong, Inquisitor. This is my fight. I like this world, and I’d prefer if it went on spinning a little longer.”

“And what dark plans are you two making, hm?” Zevran says, coming to the base of the steps. He hands Kieran the brace and he rushes inside, chattering excitedly to Morrigan. 

“Now, it’s hardly fun if I just come out and tell you, is it?” she says, winking towards Astyth. The Inquisitor returns it: this is Sythia’s request to make of them, and she’ll leave her to the details.

“Aaahh, so its to be secrets then?” He moves to stand next to her, a wicked grin on his face as he leans on the railing. “You know that only makes me more determined to find out what it is”

“If it’s left to your spying ability, it’ll stay a safe secret forever.” 

“Such cruel words from a woman so beautiful.” He tugs lightly on a loose strand of her hair, which makes her cover a laugh as she bats him away. “It can’t be borne.”

“I’m sorry, would you two prefer to be left alone, or...” Astyth trails off suggestively, smirking a bit.

“Not at all, I enjoy it more with an audience.”

It makes Astyth laugh and Tabris blush like a schoolgirl, and Morrigan comes out to see about the commotion, trying very very hard to look annoyed, though she’s biting back a smile. “I suppose it would be too much to ask that you behave yourself in front of a perfect stranger.”

“My dear enchantress, you should know by now I never behave myself without incentive.” He looks down at his clothes with a sigh. “Though the rabbit offal on my shirt is a bit of a mood killer, I’ll admit.” Pushing off the railing, he turns to look at Astyth. “Inquisitor, you’ll be staying for dinner, I hope?”

“Oh, I...” She looks at Morrigan in a silent question. She doesn’t want to intrude. But the apostate only sighs. 

“Perhaps you should. You’ve a long journey back to camp. And at the moment your presence may be the only thing that restrains this one from doing something indecent within earshot of my son.” She pointedly clips Zevran’s ear, who only chuckles and grabs her hand, pressing a kiss to the palm before breezing past her to the door. 

“Excellent. I’ll cook.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll cook-” Morrigan says, following him as their bickering continues further into the house.

“Then again,” Sythia says, looking over at Astyth on her way inside. “Perhaps Val Royeaux isn’t ready for us yet.”

[paragonrobits]

Lady Adaar and her stabby elf friend Mahaenon have a talk about how weird it is that Solas actually goes by the elven word for Pride.

Also on Ao3 and FFnet!

Haven was a nice enough place to call home. Perhaps not for long, as had mused the inner circle of the fledgling Inquisition's agents; the eight of them, forming the very core of the reborn organization's most powerful and skilled agents, all clustering around the Herald of Andraste. When you were a qunari surrounded by, mostly, humans and ones that might have a ax to grind against anyone with horns and metallic-colored skin, you were grateful for company that was going to protect you from them.

Particularly when you were an apostate. The word meant little but, somehow, Herah Adaar suspected, the so-called authorities of the Chantry would find some way to accuse her of horrible crimes because she was qunari and a mage at the same time.

She quite liked the situation here. She enjoyed the company; the Trevelyan twins were good-natured company, much more down to earth than human nobility could honestly be expected to be, and they were from the Free Marches, same as her. Her husband was along for the ride - if 'husband' was really the same for a long-term breeding pair arranged by them, just for the sake of expanding their families, but they got along well enough and considered the other a great friend - and Kaaras was always a sucker for the notion of protecting the weak, and the small. The dwarven Cadash cousins were reckless rouges, but good ones; she liked them, and she trusted them with her life... if not her sovereigns. And the elves...

Dammit she was pretty sure she was mostly in love there. At least, she didn't want to see them or their clan hurt worse than they already had been.

Guess I'm a sucker for being a hero, too, Adaar thought, as she peacefully drank in the bar Sister Leliana had set up in Haven.

Sitting beside her, and somehow managing to make simple posture do the job of daring the world to try something just because he was Dalish surrounded by humans, Mahanon slugged his drink back, and if the extremely strong rum did more than make his throat tickle, there wasn't the slightest sign of it. A few dwarves - possibly ex-Carta, the Inquisition had been courting their ranks and a lot of them thought that honorary clan status granted by some very tricky political maneuvering through the Inquisition with Orzammar was worth the risk - muttered in astonishment, as did the humans in the tavern and even a couple of the Vashoth that were trickling into the ranks.

Adaar contemplated trying to best him in a drinking contest. She thought better of it; she was big for a qunari, the horned giants of Par Vollen, and elves were small and frailer than humans. He was nearly half her size, but he could just drink and drink without the slightest hint of inebriation. She wondered where he was putting it all. Thinking of how Sera could eat so much without gaining an ounce, Herah supposed that elves had to have a truly wicked metabolism.

Adaar glanced around hopefully. "Damn. Doesn't look like the others are coming around."

Mahanon shook his head, his facial tattoos so pale that they nearly shone against his dark skin. The tree design of Mythal and her chosen role wasn't too different from the vibrant vitaar war paint she wore, even now. "Nah. Doesn't look like it." He shrugged mildly. "Still. I suppose I wasn't really expecting them to."

"Where'd they get of too, then?"

He gave her a vaguely smug, knowing look. "And how do you know that I know, eh?"

Adaar chuckled. "Because you know where everyone is, all the time. Come on." She laid a heavy hand on the table; not her good hand either. She did her best to keep the hand that had been... marked, hidden from view. It still tingled, almost hurt now, and the flashes of green and raw magical energy tended to upset people. And the Mark was on her good hand. It was a bother.

He noticed her doing that, and his face fell as he saw her grunt with the effort of not showing the pain.

Mahanon liked messing with people, and he had a body count higher than the entire Valo-Kas company ('shems that deserved it', he reassured them with a wild grin, and since there were so many humans that deserved swords in the face, his new friends had nodded... including the Trevelyans, who had something of an inside view of the nastiness of human evil), but he didn't like seeing anyone get hurt, either. The two were probably connected; see a shem making someone miserable, kill the shem, end of hurting. He did not have a particularly fraught internal view.

So for once, he dropped the games and came straight out about it. "Okay, okay. Sorry. Should have told you the others couldn't show." He spoke at length, then. "The Cadash cousins are off some kind of reunion with the golem that helped stop the last Blight."

"Wait. The golem that was with the Hero of Ferelden!?"

"Yep. Same one!"

"The self-aware talking golem? The one that's kind of a jerk?"

"Yep, that one. Seems that this... Shale... is an ancestor of theirs. An old-time Cadash warrior, back when she was a dwarf." Mahanon proposed a theory. "My guess would be that... uh, might be trying to figure out how to make other golems self-aware too."

"Huh. That would be interesting. Imagine all the stuff they've have to talk about."

"I figure it'd mostly be dead boring. Golems mostly just toil and smash darkspawn. Might get repetitive." Mahanon changed the subject. "Now, the humans... honestly I'm not totally sure what they're doing. Not specifics. Way I understand it, Josie thought they'd make dab hands at talking with a delegation of Templars that used to serve at the Ostwick Circle. Something like that. Diplomatic garbage." He refrained from saying shem bullshit but you could, as it wear, hear what he wasn't saying. He had too much grudge with humans to just let go of it - too much pain, too much bad blood, too much suffering and things just getting worse and worse by human hands for thousands of years - but he liked the Trevelyans to be cruel.

"What about your sister?" Adaar asked. "I think I saw her earlier today."

"...Oh yeah. I bet you did." Mahanon growled. "Bet my clan-sister is off chatting with Solas," He gave a dismissive snort.

Adaar rumbled. "And Kaaras is off teaching Sera how to do proper stitching. He's found himself a good one to mother." She took a long drink. Something about Mahanon's tone was bothering her. "Solas... huh. You don't like him?"

"Mm. Complicated, Vashoth." Mahanon stared into his drink, like he was trying to see some kind of portent. "I want to like him. He makes it real easy to like him.. unless you get him talking shit about the Dalish." He sneered, but genteelly. "If I wanted to hear someone be a snob about my people, I'd waste my time with... well, honestly, anyone except you and the others. But its worse, coming from an elf."

Adaar nodded gloomily. "Like when a 'real' qunari says anything about Vashoth like me."

"Yeah. You get it." Mahanon shook his head.

"Listen," Adaar said. "I like Solas, but sometimes it's like listening to my grouchy grandpa complaining about the good old days. It's kind of depressing."

Mahanon grinned. He looked thoughtful. "Thought your family was too young generation to have grandparents."

"Okay, fine, fair enough, but there's an old dwarf that hangs out at the farm and complains to mama and papa and all my dozen littler siblings about how much he liked it when he still lived in Orzammar. He's like a grandpa. I guess." Adaar raised a hand. "One of these days I want to introduce Varric to him. Just for the snark."

"Please let me be there, I want to hear all the sarcasm." Mahanon chuckled. "...Solas. Solas. Even the name is weird. Who takes a name like that when you're trying not to creep out the shems?"

Adaar gave him a look. "Come again?"

"Solas." Mahanon grunted. "Come on, friend. I know you've been trying to learn my people's languages. His name doesn't sound weird to you?"

"No? Should it?"

"Huh. Must not have seen it, I suppose. Look." Mahanon gestured vaguely, a sign that he wasn't as together as he liked to pretend. "Solas, it... ah, it translates somewhat into a few words in the common tongue. Hard to convey it. Arrogance, overwhelming ambition... ah." He snapped his fingers, happy at working it out. "Pride is a good analogue. Solas basically means pride."

"Wait. Our elvish apostate - besides your sister, I mean - is literally named pride?"

"Yup." Mahanon gulped down another mugful of rum. "That doesn't seem strange to you?"

"I dunno. It's only a name." Adaar waved a hand with the slightly fussy, extremely precise movements of a mage still knew to the particulars of being a Knight-Enchanter. "Look at my folks. Named ourselves Adaar. I know Bull probably translated it to you as 'weapon', but it specifically refers to those giant things the followers of the Qun use. Big, loud, make a lot of fire? Those things." She grunted. "Doesn't mean much, does it now?"

"You're named after big things that shoot fire," Mahanon said slowly, giving her a wry grin. Adaar sniffed, aware that she was so big, even among the Qunari, that sitting down Mahanon did not even come up completely to her elbow. Standing upright, he wouldn't be much higher than her gut. "You're big. And you like the magic that makes things burny and explodey."

"I'm the exception that proves the rule?"

He laughed at that. "I'm just saying that, if that is his real name, that's very unusual for him to claim so." Mahanon looked thoughtful. "Granted. Shems don't speak my language well too often - Josie does her best, bless her - so he'd be justified in figuring no one would notice. But he still uses it around elves. Dalish and otherwise. You'd think if he was trying to be harmless, what with being an apostate surrounded by grumpy ex-templars with big shiny swords, he'd be trying to present himself less ominously."

Adaar sighed. "In my experience, a lot of humans refuse to take elves seriously at all. Sorry. They're little shitheads that way."

Mahanon nodded sagely. "I find that a couple swords in the face usually sets them straight. I mean. Typically they're dead but it gets the point across." he wiggled a finger. "So, if my sister wants to get her hands all over him, good for her. I like seeing her not get all gloomy and vengeful against the shems for once. But I'm just real suspicious of anyone that goes around calling themselves pride incarnate. It's weird."

Adaar took a drink. A Vashoth who cheerfully followed the religion of Andraste, even if her overall opinion of the Chantry was 'watch it burn with a big smile', she was hardly one to criticize being unusual by local standards. "I don't think anyone here is really normal. This Inquisition thing is weird."

"On that, my big horny friend, we are agreed."

"Please don't call me that in mixed company. It gives the wrong impression."

"Well. Now I feel obligated to do so in really mixed company, for maximum effect. You've gone and challenged me, falon!"

[divulgacion-alternativa]

Todos los Enlaces de la Publicación del 28 de Junio de 2021

Fuente: benjaminfulford.net

Todos los Enlaces de la Publicación del 28 de Junio de 2021

Los medios corporativos dicen que Hancock "renunció" debido a un "comportamiento personal inapropiado". https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2021/jun/26/matt-hancock-resigns-after-questions-over-relationship-with-aide

https://rumble.com/viww3n-leaked-docs-on-permament-lockdown-of-uk-in-3-weeks.html?fbclid=IwAR0LTQlnLKreiygBukVWQ3N88DGye6n2Qv3tHRF0yPcfw6YkwpbUn75cUnQ

Los masones italianos de la logia P3, por su parte, han distribuido documentos filtrados del Banco Mundial controlados por Rockefeller que piden que la campaña pandemia falsa en curso continúe hasta 2025. Cualquier conversación sobre una “variante delta”, por ejemplo, es solo una parte de este guión.

Mientras tanto, en los EE.UU., Científicos clínicos e inmunólogos virólogos de siete universidades, incluidas Stanford, Cornell y la Universidad de California, están demandando a los CDC por fraude masivo. Esto se debe a que los científicos, utilizando la última tecnología, no pudieron encontrar Covid-19 ni siquiera en una de las 1.500 muestras de personas que fueron "confirmadas como infectadas" cuando "dieron positivo".

Se descubrió que TODAS las personas "positivas" tenían influenza A y, en menor medida, influenza B. Todos los científicos pidieron a los CDC muestras viables de Covid-19 y se les dijo que bueno ... en realidad no tenían ninguna muestra. https://greatreject.org/laboratories-cant-find-covid-19-in-positive-tests/

La siguiente noticia, "Indonesia, hogar de una de las minas de oro más grandes del mundo, planea establecer un banco de lingotes para estimular el comercio del metal precioso a nivel nacional", respalda lo que dice esta fuente. https://finance.yahoo.com/news/indonesia-home-giant-gold-mine-230000394.html?guccounter=1&guce_referrer=aHR0cHM6Ly9hdXN0cmFsaWFub25saW5lbmV3cy1jb20tYXUuY2RuLmFtcHByb2plY3Qub3JnL3Yvcy9hdXN0cmFsaWFub25saW5lbmV3cy5jb20uYXUvMjAyMS8wNi8yMy9pbmRvbmVzaWEtaG9tZS10by1naWFudC1nb2xkLW1pbmUtd2FudHMtaXRzLW93bi1idWxsaW9uLWJhbmsvYW1wLw&guce_referrer_sig=AQAAALYMNx8mtOqouIY5vzJnW4Q3J0-hBr7g-ZG6gqMNPxyHQ-PGw4jfXLubAZE9IC9kL2B9P5hlByWMrRSU7uU9o867gG5oVOxI6p9Ft7ZE8x91Fs9fz9jgxtlwMMaVCGFLW8wGCUy2FSKl-C3lRVVXVg4MKmlyN9E8ftUy-F5

El otro movimiento de los Sombreros Blancos la semana pasada fue poner bajo protección al guerrero anti-cábal John McAfee. No se suicidó, dicen fuentes de la CIA. El siguiente tweet sugiere esto:

ESTOY CONTENIDO AQU��. TENGO AMIGOS. LA COMIDA ES BUENA. TODO ESTÁ BIEN. SEPA QUE SI ME Cuelgo, Al estilo EPSTEIN, NO SERA CULPA MIA. https://twitter.com/officialmcafee/status/1316801215083225096

El agente jázaro, el alcalde demócrata Cava inmediatamente declaró un evento de víctimas masivas de “Nivel 5”, esto requiere más de 1,000 víctimas y la abrumadora necesidad de recursos regionales, ninguno de los cuales es cierto. Sin embargo, esto permitió al falso presidente Biden declarar una emergencia nacional y colocar todo lo relacionado con el colapso bajo su control directo, según fuentes de inteligencia naval. https://www.floridadisaster.org/globalassets/importedpdfs/chapter10b-masscasualty.pdf

Fuentes de la CIA, por su parte, dicen que la Primera Dama y la Familia de Paraguay se encontraban en el edificio y siguen desaparecidas. Paraguay está a días de convertir a bitcoin en la moneda nacional oficial. En otras palabras, fue un éxito de banquero fiduciario. https://www.floridadisaster.org/globalassets/importedpdfs/chapter10b-masscasualty.pdf

También ha habido una vez más múltiples intentos de iniciar un Armagedón nuclear por parte de los fanáticos mesiánicos. Uno fue un ataque a una instalación nuclear iraní. https://www.debka.com/quadcopter-drone-strike-near-faraj-new-chapter-in-covert-campaign-versus-nuclear-iran/

El otro fue el envío deliberado del destructor Tipo 45 de la Marina Real, el HMS Defender, a aguas territoriales rusas con la expectativa de que Rusia pudiera responder de manera agresiva. https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-57624942

En los Estados Unidos, la Guardia Nacional acaba de completar un ejercicio de entrenamiento de dos semanas preparándose para un ciberataque para derribar la infraestructura nacional. El ataque ya se está convirtiendo en una realidad con apagones, escasez de agua, interrupciones en el suministro de alimentos, etc. Esta es otra razón por la que la ley antidisturbios se leyó en la sede de la mafia jázara del Foro Economico Mundial en el ciberpolígono en Suiza. https://www.thedrive.com/the-war-zone/41243/the-national-guard-just-simulated-a-cyberattack-that-brought-down-utilities-nationwide

Mientras tanto, Estados Unidos continúa sumido en el caos, el derramamiento de sangre y la anarquía. El cabal está invirtiendo dinero fiduciario en un "complejo industrial para personas sin hogar, y están acumulando dinero, no por millones, ni por cientos de millones, por miles de millones", advirtió el alguacil de Los Ángeles Alex Villanueva. https://www.zerohedge.com/political/enough-enough-los-angeles-sheriff-urges-state-emergency-homelessness

En San Francisco, por ejemplo, están usando el dinero de los contribuyentes para pagar tiendas de campaña para personas sin hogar que cuestan $ 60,000 cada una al año. https://reason.com/2021/06/25/critics-warned-the-largest-tax-increase-in-san-francisco-history-would-be-ill-spent-its-now-funding-60000-tents-for-the-homeless/

Mientras tanto, la tasa de homicidios está aumentando a niveles sin precedentes a medida que la policía pierde fondos. https://www.zerohedge.com/political/americas-historic-murder-surge-occurred-during-defund-police

Además, todo este dinero extraído de forma incompetente está provocando una hiperinflación, como muestra claramente el siguiente gráfico. https://cms.zerohedge.com/s3/files/inline-images/bfm1BE5_1.jpg?itok=5fpsnX5d

Las anteriores son todas las razones por las que la oligarquía criminal incompetente dirigida por Rockefeller que secuestró al G7 y a Occidente debe ser eliminada lo antes posible y con un prejuicio extremo. No se equivoquen, son asesinos en masa. Esto ha sido probado más recientemente por su intento de exterminar a la población mundial de "comedores inútiles" con vacunas tóxicas (como han testificado múltiples denunciantes). También son lo suficientemente poderosos como para reemplazar al Papa Francisco y a los líderes del G7 con impostores que usan máscaras de goma y impostores generados por computadora.

En una nota final, aquí hay un ejemplo de lo que será posible una vez que se complete la victoria de los sombreros blancos. El artículo siguiente habla de una “vacuna” de terapia génica que podría dar a todo el mundo los genes de genios olímpicos de larga vida con cuerpo de atleta si así lo desearan. https://www.studyfinds.org/superhero-vaccine-olympic-dna-euan-ashley/

También notamos que el Pentágono publicó un informe sobre fenómenos aéreos no identificados (UAP). El informe dice que estos son reales, pero no menciona a los extraterrestres. https://www.dni.gov/files/ODNI/documents/assessments/Prelimary-Assessment-UAP-20210625.pdf

--------------------------------------------------------

[phoenix-is-chaos]

I did a thing sorry if it’s not in context

If You Were Inquisitor: Ask Meme

1. Race: Qunari/Dalish Elf


2. Class/Specialization: Assassin/Tempest


3. Your homeland? Seheron(Free Marches)/ Korcari Wildes.


4. Your family? Just my Papa and I/ The loner of the clan very close to The Keeper


5. Who were you before? Before being a merc? A nobody. / I was one of the Hunters in the clan I would find the oddities in rocks via color or shape and bring them back on successful hunts. :)


6. Would you be religious?Never cared for it when we were younger.


7. Do you have a mabari? Yes ^.^ Draven & Fen


8. Your opinion on other races? Optimistic Distain/ Subtle wariness but Tolerant ( neither of us are big people persons)


9. What would Varric’s nickname for you be? Bookworm/ Ribbons


10. What would your tarot card look like? Black-red qunari horns with a cup / Black-green forest elf half seen with daggers.


11. Where would you hang out in Skyhold? Library


12. What would you do for fun? Spar or garden with a book/ battlements with a book or in my quarters weaving ribbons.


13. What armor would you wear? Drakestone and Onyx/ Great Bear Hide and plush fustian velvet.


14. What would your room look like? (Books)open bed/ four poster bed.


15. Who would be your friends at Skyhold? Varric & Dorian/ Cole and Leiliana.


16. Would you have any friends outside of the Inquisition? See Barris/ Abelas


17. Who wouldn’t you get along with? Morrigan/ Vivienne.


18. Who would you romance? The Iron Bull/ Solas


19. Would you do pranks with Sera? Just to keep the mood happy :)


20. Would you sleep with the Iron Bull (casually if not romance)? No/ nopeee.


21. Would you keep Cole around? Yes


22. Can you play the game (politics)? Yes but we hates it precious


23. What would be on your tombstone in the fade (What are you afraid of)? Abandment/Dying Alone.


24. Who would you recruit to seal the breach? Templars.


25. Opinion on Mages versus Templars? Mages should have a choice the same as Templars while still keeping the circles intact.


26. Who would be put in charge of Orlais? A combined effort between the 3.


27. Would you sacrifice the Chargers? Never.


28. Would you go after Blackwall? Naturally we would like answers.


29. Would you drink from the well? Nope.


30. Where would you go if the Inquisition was disbanded? Where ever I could help or back to SkyHold.


31. How do you react to the egg telling you he is an elven god? Figures.

[lafaiette]

Joy and Humility - Chapter 7

Scarlet Lavellan’s parents decide to visit Skyhold and finally meet Solas.

Mama Lavellan is thrilled. Papa Lavellan is not exactly amused.

(In which Papa Lavellan finally starts to consider Solas part of the family and his worst fear is confirmed.)

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Other Solavellan fics: here

“And then Solas used one of his spells – don’t ask me what it was, ma’am, because I have no idea – to burn to a crisp the darkspawn attacking us in Storm Coast.”

Bull swallows a big gulp of ale, while Nehn next to him graciously accepts the salted nuts the Chargers offer her.

“And then…!” the Qunari continues, flashing a grin, “he used that weird Fade magic he knows to make a fist appear out of nowhere and kill the last one of those fuckers, saving Boss’ life!”

“Oh, my!”

Nehn turns to her daughter, smiling happily, clearly enjoying Bull’s colorful descriptions and stories about Solas.

He and the others have been telling her things about her daughter’s mate for a good hour, now, and she knows exactly what they are trying to do. She isn’t sure whether to believe everything they are telling her – Varric swore Solas (or Chuckles, as he calls him) froze a dragon midair, making it fall onto the ground and crash into million pieces -, but she admires and respect the sentiment and doesn’t doubt that the elven mage is talented as they say.

There is a large bag at her feet, full of books and volumes Dorian and Vivienne gave her during her visit at the tower Scarlet restored for the mages in visit at Skyhold; they are mostly simple books about elven history and lore, but they are incredibly precious for the Dalish and her daughter assured her that she can bring them to the clan if she wishes to, because the mages already copied them down or there are more copies to be found at Val Royeaux.

Truly a miracle, Nehn thinks, before thinking about her husband and Solas, currently exploring that underground library she heard so much about all by themselves. She hopes they are alright and that nothing bad happened; she saw and heard her husband apologize to Solas and they left quite happily, but her husband is a stubborn man and Solas carries his pride in his name.

“He kisses Scarlet’s eyes every night before falling asleep.” a new voice tells her, close to her. She gasps and turns, then a smile blooms on her face as she recognizes Cole. He smiles at her, too, not seeing Scarlet’s blush and not hearing her strangled noise.

“One kiss to wish her goodnight, one to wish her a good morning for the next day.” he continues and even if that detail is much private and causes Bull to make a whistling sound and Cassandra to gasp with pleasure while Varric takes note of it on his journal, Nehn is overjoyed by it. It tells more about her future son-in-law than all the stories Scarlet’s companions told her.

“Is that so?” She turns to her daughter and sees her blush and look down at her lap with a bashful smile. “Oh, da’vhenan! I knew he was a romantic!”

“They always walk hand in hand.” Dorian adds and Varric senses that’s a good moment to speak up as well: “They gave me the inspiration for a new chapter of my smutty book, you know? Not that I saw them doing anything racy in daylight. But they are quite passionate.”

“Guys!” Scarlet exclaims, redder than her hair and the wine Cabot is pouring with a smirk.

“They call each other ‘ma sa’lath’.” Cassandra says, mispronouncing the word a little, and Nehn giggles at that, while her daughter groans and bangs her forehead against the counter. The older Dalish woman is even more convinced, now, that Solas is the right man for her daughter and she begs his friends to tell her more.

And even if Varric and Bull tend to exaggerate a lot and Sera keeps insisting that he is an ‘egg’, for some mysterious reason, she sees and finds truth in their words and her joy increases, spreading across her face in the shape of a blush and two big dimples, while Scarlet listens with a goofy smile on her face and eyes cast down, long fingers playing with the hem of her precious shirt.

And that’s when Solas and Athim enter, the latter carrying a second bag full of books. They are talking civilly to each other and her husband is even smiling, a small, but warm smile like the ones he gives only to his family and close friends.

Solas looks more relaxed, at ease; he walks with his hands behind his back and he stands tall, but he is actually walking behind Athim, even if almost imperceptibly, to offer him respect and show that he isn’t superior to him. He is smiling, too, and his smile only grows when he spots Scarlet at the counter.

Bull and Varric whisper something to each other, then the first roars, letting everyone in the tavern hear him: “And then Solas summoned a giant fireball and the whole group of Venatori surrounding us kneeled on the ground, begging to be spared, and the mage of the group even complimented his magic and…”

“Now that’s a story I’d like to hear.” Athim snorts, smirking at the Qunari before turning to Solas, who sighs and blushes, shaking his head at his snickering companions. Dorian and Cassandra have the gall to look completely innocent, while Bull and Varric don’t deny what they are trying to do.

“How was the underground library? Did you like it?” Scarlet asks, rising to kiss her father on the cheek. Nehn takes his hand, squeezing it lovingly, because she knows that he and Solas behaved well and she and Scarlet did well in trusting them.

“I see you found some good books, too! Dorian and Lady Vivienne gave me some incredibly interesting volumes, vhenan, and Scarlet said we can take them to the clan!”

“Are you sure?” he asks his daughter with wide eyes and she laughs, nodding.

“Of course! We have copies of them and I’m sure Keeper Deshanna will find them useful for her lessons.”

“Speaking of lessons…” Dorian starts, curling his mustache with nonchalance. “Solas is extremely skilled in teaching, you know? Scarlet and I once watched him teach a new trick to the young mages in visit here.” He grins at Scarlet, who has gotten all red, probably remembering a very particular detail of that episode. “I remember you complimented the way his fingers moved, my friend.”

“Dorian!” she hisses, but Athim seems unfazed by it for once. He just grunts as he sits down next to his wife, while Solas glares at the Altus and his ears turn pink like Scarlet’s.

“Well, I witnessed his great knowledge just earlier.” Athim says, gratefully accepting the cup of wine Cabot just poured him. “We met two Dalish elves, Cillian of clan Ralaferin and Loranil from Hawen’s clan.”

The companions and Scarlet pale at that, while Nehn gasps and brings her hands to her face, beaming like a star. Everyone suspects the worst, everyone fears the meeting went bad, that Solas was mortified or left in a corner and everyone - except for Scarlet, who has no idea what Loranil feels for her - thinks the young Dalish elf ignited his jealousy and self-deprecation.

“I heard many things about Cillian and his clan! Oh, I had no idea he was here!”

“He is a good fellow.” Athim says with a smile and Dorian and Cassandra exchange a worried look, while Varric desperately thinks of something else good to say about Solas and Bull tries to come up with more extravagant stories.

But then Athim turns to Solas, who is sitting next to Scarlet with a surprisingly pleased expression on his face, and adds: “Solas knows much about the discipline Cillian is studying, so he accepted to teach him and others the ancient elven ways he learned in the Fade.”

Everyone turns to Solas at that and his smile grows, turning a bit timid, but also proud, and his eyes are filled with love when Scarlet cheers and throws her arms around him. It’s a great step in the right direction, she thinks, the perfect way for him to finally have more friends, connect with more people, and let himself go around others.

And the way Athim spoke, clearly glad of what happened and respectful of Solas’ knowledge, means that the old Dalish man is finally changing his mind about the other elf, if not quickly, at least surely and steadily. Nehn is aware of that, too, and she thanks her husband with a discreet kiss on the lips.

“He knows every corner and every shelf of the library, doesn’t he?” Varric intervenes, continuing his and the others’ plan to celebrate Solas and put him under the best light possible. “Chuckles always had a great memory.”

Some playful light twinkles in Athim’s eyes and he hums, before nodding and observing his daughter talk animatedly with the elven apostate; she is talking quickly, excitedly, oozing joy and warmth from every pore and red strand of hair, and Solas looks at her with loving eyes, a hand on her waist, the other on her knee.

“Always so brilliant, always so ready to help.” Dorian continues and it’s true; despite Solas’ aloof manners and his maybe-too-polite smiles, he is also very kind and many people witnessed his gestures of selflessness, when more refugees than usual came to Skyhold and he helped heal them all, or when he personally prepared potions and concoctions for the sick, coughing pilgrims and their children.

“Always eager to learn more.” Cassandra adds, hoping the Dalish appreciate curiosity, and Cole enigmatically says: “He knows much, but now he wants to learn everything about this world. He likes it now. Sniffing the air and thinking it has a good smell, he explores the new woods.”

Athim shoots him an odd glance, thinking that if anyone here knows what Solas’ haunted past is – because he is sure the young man is haunted by something -, that someone might be Cole. Spirits are supposed to know a lot, right? And this one in particular – Compassion, he was told – might indeed reassure him immensely.

“Say, Cole,” he starts, fully turning to the mysterious boy, whose giant hat almost hides his pale face completely, “Solas told me you’re a dear friend and a very special creature. Person.” He clears his throat, not wanting to offend the boy, but Cole looks extremely pleased and happy.

“You’re very dear to my daughter, too.” Athim continues and Cole looks about to burst into an explosion of light and bubbling laughter. His smile is a particularly sweet sight.

“Thank you!” he exclaims and the old Dalish elf can’t help but chuckle at that.

He turns to the others, who are listening intently, and he doesn’t miss Nehn’s confused look. They don’t understand what he’s trying to ask, so he hurries to do so, turning back to Cole and saying:

“You know him well, right? So…”

“You want to know if they’re happy?” Bull interrupts him, scratching his chin. “Man, everyone can see they are!”

“No.” Cole says gently, never looking away from Athim. “You want to know if he will keep making her happy in the future, too.”

“Yes.” Athim’s tone changes suddenly, turning heated, impatient, urgent. He grasps the spirit boy’s wrist, not too strongly to avoid hurting him, but the grip is powerful all the same. The spirit’s skin is cold and dry, maybe too thin, but he tries not to focus too much on that.

“Once this awful war is over, do you know – can you know - what will happen to them?” He glances furtively at Solas and Scarlet, who are still discussing his future lessons and this great opportunity.

Nehn looks about to protest and tell him to stop, but she is Scarlet’s mother and even if she clearly trusts Solas completely, while Athim still wants to be a little cautious, she has every right to worry and expect some enlightenment from a spirit. So she holds her breath and leans closer to Cole from her stool, clasping her hands in a silent prayer to the Creators.

The others are curious, too, included Dorian, who should know that Cole’s abilities can’t look into the future; he knows that and Cassandra knows it as well, but Cole is such a peculiar spirit and there is always a first time for everything and the Fade and its inhabitants are great mysteries that not even the greatest expert – probably not even Solas – can completely explain up to the smallest detail.

And since Cole looks so serious and solemn - a rare event since he usually looks either gloomy and shy or enthusiastic and curious -, they have all the reasons to move closer and wait for his response.

“I don’t know.” he answers in the end. Athim deflates a little at that, but Nehn keeps looking fervently at the spirit boy and he slowly continues: “But if they keep talking like they are doing now, things will be fine.”

“Communication is an important part of a relationship.” Nehn confirms, nodding solemnly, and Cole nods, too, more solemn than her. They look like two elven statues, Athim thinks, full of truth and answers.

The companions briefly redirect their attention elsewhere to discuss what Cole just said – they have been reassured, comforted, and they believe there will be no dark shadows on the horizon for their dear friends, for sweet Scarlet and brilliant Solas, because how could communication ever stop existing in a relationship like theirs? They always talk, they always fix everything by talking, opening up to each other, and revealing their biggest fears to the other.

Athim is humble and so he accepts Cole’s prediction humbly, thanking him, but he’s also stubborn and even if he likes Solas, even if he knows he loves Scarlet a lot and he’s willing to welcome him into the family, he still can feel something isn’t right, like a minuscule, black dot on a white sheet, slowly spreading and showing itself to the world.

He grasps Cole’s shoulders – so bony and sturdy at the same time – and leans even further in until he’s hidden under his hat with him. And then he whispers, locking eyes with the spirit, gazing into his deep, blue irises so full of knowledge and innocence:

“He’s hiding something, isn’t he?”

Cole doesn’t answer, but his silence is answer enough and Athim sees something flicker in his eyes, maybe surprise, maybe hesitation. He tightens his jaw, sets his mouth into a straight, thin line, then pulls away, sheepishly smiling at Nehn, who didn’t hear his question and is fretting over him and the boy.

“Athim, please! What is this about?”

“Nothing. It’s all good now.” He kisses her to apologize, then thanks Cole again, but the spirit boy has become unresponsive and his face – ageless and young at the same time – is thoughtful, as if he’s lost into deep, important considerations. He smiles a little when Nehn talks to him and brushes back the hair from his face, but there is a weight in his posture, now, and Athim feels responsible and guilty for it.

The rest of the day proceeds well. He visits the mage tower and the rest of Skyhold, with its many rooms, nooks, hidden passageways, and doors. He listens to Solas, asks him questions and answers his and a sincere affection for the young man grows in his heart, replacing the silly jealousy and fears he had before.

He doesn’t bother Solas and Scarlet when they kiss or smile at each other; he still tries to catch his daughter’s attention, because he hasn’t seen her for so long and he thinks he deserves to spend more time with her before leaving, but he happily shares the rest of his time with her friends and her boyfriend and soon he’s busier than ever.

Nehn blooms under their daughter’s attention and care; it didn’t look like it before, but Scarlet’s departure from the clan affected her greatly, too, and only now she’s recovering from it, sure that she will be protected and kept safe, respected and loved. She cries on multiple occasions, always out of joy, and Solas becomes a second son to her, so much she asks him to accompany her everywhere and her motherly affection puts a big smile on his face and a nostalgic light in his eyes.

They decide to stay there five more days, accepting Scarlet’s tearful, hopeful offer, and time passes quickly; Athim and Solas talk a lot before falling asleep and he still has some doubts and he doesn’t always understand what the young man is talking about or studying, but he has seen Scarlet’s joy and that’s enough to convince him.

A shard of fear remains stuck in his heart, but he calmly ignores it, preferring to concentrate on Solas’ smile whenever he mentions Scarlet, the light in his eyes whenever he talks about her brilliance and kindness, his confidence as he tries to explain his theories and studies.

Cole hasn’t told him anything else and Athim doesn’t have the courage to insist and ask more, but his instincts are rarely wrong and he observes Solas sleep at night with a serious expression and a quiet acceptance in his troubled heart.

Then, the five days end and he and Nehn stand at the gate of the fortress, holding their crying daughter and reassuring her that everything will be alright, that they will always be there for her.

Five guards – gentle, robust people from all races equipped with well-crafted weapons - are respectfully waiting on the bridge; they will accompany them safely to the Free Marches, ensuring their safe return to clan Lavellan - Scarlet’s orders. Athim is actually grateful for it, because the big majority of Thedas knows about him and Nehn, now, and he doesn’t want anyone to try hurting their daughter through them.

Nehn apparently adopted all her friends, too; Sera is still wary and awkward around them, but she gives them two jars of good, Nevarran honey, stolen from only-Creators-know-where, and she accepts Nehn’s hug with red cheeks and a weird, endearing pout.

Dorian, the Tevinter, actually sheds some tears. He is “our shem son”, Nehn told Athim, and he never dreamed to ask for something like that, but the lad is a good man and he was able to get to know him better and appreciate his humor, kindness, and irony in the past days. Scarlet adores him and he adores Scarlet, so Athim has learned to approve of him, too, and Nehn always seizes the chance to smooch his cheeks and fix the collar of his robes.

And then there are the others; Bull and his Chargers, which Nehn recognized them as his family and treated as such; Cassandra and her pragmatic, but warm manners; Varric and his stories, often revolving around him more than he realizes and admits; Lady Vivienne and her motherly ways; Blackwall and his quiet, humble bravery that Athim admires a lot; Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen, each with their own kind of kindness and thoughtfulness; and then Cole and his sweet compassion, accompanied by the secrets he keeps for others.

Solas is the last one they hug and say goodbye to, because they want to do it right and memorize his smile and touch before they go. Nehn holds him tightly and he timidly returns the hug, like a child who isn’t sure his mother wants to be hugged today. But Nehn always accepts hugs and she already loves him greatly, so she pats his back and Solas finally smiles.

“Take care of my da’adahl, yes?” she says, cradling his face in her small hands. He nods, swallowing a hard lump in his throat, and if Nehn misses the scared flicker in his eyes because she has to dry hers, Athim doesn’t and he approaches Solas with a calm, but serious demeanor.

“Lethallin.” he says, pulling him into his arms before pulling back and clasping his shoulders. “Once this war is over, we will wait for you at the clan.”

Something breaks in Solas’ eyes, but he holds his emotions back – or at least tries to – and his only answer is a slow, short nod and the hint of a shaky smile. So up close, Athim is able to glimpse tears in his eyes and his worst fears come back, together with the half-formed certainty that things won’t go as well as everyone is sure of.

He will keep this to himself, though, because he can’t be completely sure and maybe it’s just his paranoia whispering ill things into his head. He saw the joy and love in both Scarlet’s and Solas’ eyes, he saw how happy they are – he can’t keep causing her trouble and pain like he did the first day.

“Watch over Scarlet for us.” he continues and there is a promise written on Solas’ face, now, and he finally speaks, his voice soft and hoarse: “Of course, hahren.”

Solas squeezes his arm, then lets him go and steps back to take Scarlet’s right hand. They stand there, under the main gate, with their friends and wave at them as they walk across the bridge with their guards.

“Isn’t he a good man?” Nehn says as they wave back and she’s still sniffling and barely holding back her last tears. “I’m so happy, Athim, so happy! I can’t wait for this wretched war to be over, so they will finally be able to get married.”

“Yes.” He watches his daughter and her mate from afar; he can see the sadness and worry in her stance, in the way she waves her hand, just like she would do when she was little and he had to leave the clan to go hunting with the others and she feared for his wellbeing.

Those memories bring tears to his eyes – he’s afraid of losing her to Corypheus and his mad minions, afraid of seeing her suffer because Solas couldn’t stay, afraid of her discovering what is haunting that man so much, something that can’t be anything good.

He’s scared and he isn’t able to refrain from crying, even if quietly. But Nehn of course notices it – she is always so very sweet and observant, just like their daughter – and her hand holding his gives him strength.

“Don’t worry, vhenan.” she says as they resume walking, turning back every ten steps or so. She is still crying, louder than him, and the five soldiers of the Inquisition accompanying them patiently wait a bit far ahead, never complaining, never asking them to hurry.

“We will see her again.” Nehn continues and she makes it sound like a beautiful, certain promise. “I know we will. She will win and she and Solas will visit us at the clan to get married. I can already picture it in my mind.” She giggles, a wet, but cheerful and joyous sound. “I can even picture all her friends sitting around the fire! I want that dear boy Dorian to dance with us.”

“Your imagination is a blessing.” Athim chuckles, kissing her ruffled hair. He turns to watch Scarlet one last time and his heart beats painfully fast in his chest, hope and fear mixed together, a dangerous combination that won’t let him sleep for months.

They slowly leave the bridge and his fear is replaced by sudden surprise – and a bit of alarm – when wolves start howling in the far, snowy distance.

“It’s alright, my lady.” one of the guards, a young dwarven woman with an honest face, says to Nehn when she gasps and looks around. “There are many wolves living near Skyhold, but they never approach the fortress. They are basically harmless.”

“It’s strange.” Nehn chuckles, recovering from her scare. “It’s like they are saying goodbye. Do you think it’s a good omen from the Dread Wolf, vhenan?”

“Hm.” Athim grimaces, looking at the majestic Frostback Mountains all around them, as though he could catch a glimpse of the wolves on their rocky, white sides. “I hope so.”

He turns for the last time towards Skyhold and sees that Scarlet, Solas, and the others are still standing by the gate.

They aren’t waving anymore, but he can still recognize their shapes and forms, Solas’ pale face and his sweater fluttering in the cold wind. He’s still holding Scarlet’s hand and Athim clearly sees him press a kiss on her cheek. He can already imagine her red cheeks and shy smile.

Athim abruptly looks away and his hope manages to win over his fears, as the wolves howl louder.

Another long fic completed! ( ´ ▽ ` ) It started rather funny and lighthearted and it ends on a sadder, melancholic note. ;_;  You can't fool a parent's instincts, after all.

I had a lot of fun writing it and developing Nehn and Athim's personalities - maybe I'll add one or two more chapters focusing on those days spent at Skyhold or even set after Trespasser. Athim's rage would be something to fear.

Thank you so much!

[investmart007]

ROME | Italy's 5-Stars step back from minister's anti-gay remarks

New Post has been published on https://is.gd/yzYRvI

ROME | Italy's 5-Stars step back from minister's anti-gay remarks

ROME (AP) — The 5-Star Movement, one of the two populist parties in Italy’s new government, distanced itself Sunday from anti-gay comments made by a minister from its right-wing coalition partner, saying issues like same-sex civil unions deliberately were kept off their common political agenda.

Family and Disabilities Minister Lorenzo Fontana, a member of the right-wing League party, said after the government took office Friday that families headed by gay couples don’t legally exist in Italy.

Fontana, who arrived for the Cabinet’s swearing-in ceremony carrying his baby daughter and accompanied by his wife, told reporters that “families are those natural ones, where a child must have a mom and a dad.”

He added that as a Catholic, he also would work to beef up offices which can “try to dissuade women from aborting.”

A 5-Star Movement lawmaker, Maria Edera Spadoni, called Fontana’s comments not “opportune.”

“It’s no mystery that on ethical issues there are very different sensibilities” between the Movement and the League, Spadoni said in an interview with Corriere della Sera newspaper.

Spadoni said the differing positions of the two parties were why issues deemed “too divisive,” including abortion, living wills and LGBT families, deliberately were kept out of the policy pact the rival populist forces negotiated

League leader Matteo Salvini hastened to insist that undoing liberal laws allowing same-sex civil unions and abortion aren’t on the agenda of the new government.

“As a father, I’m concerned that children must have a papa and mamma,” Salvini said after gay rights advocates blasted Fontana’s remarks. “But the question isn’t on the agenda of this government.”

Italy enacted a same-sex civil union law in 2016 during the previous Democratic Party-led government.

With the Vatican’s often wielding influence on Italy’s social legislation, the country doesn’t allow same-sex marriages. Italy also doesn’t allow single people to adopt children whatever their sexual orientation.

The Vatican suffered a stinging defeat in 1981, when Italian voters, in a referendum, decided to uphold a 1978 law legalizing abortion after years of bitter political battles.

By Associated Press – published on STL.News by St. Louis Media, LLC(R.A)

[capjuby]

Chère Maman (4) || Wanda Coleman

quand sommes-nous devenues amies ? c’est arrivé si graduellement que je n’ai rien remarqué peut-être avais-je d’abord à déguerpir mordre un bon gros morceau du monde blanc-blanc et m’y étouffer peut-être c’était ce qui doit arriver à certains jeunes arrogant,es si tout ça est arrivé

et maintenant la pensée nue, irrévocable d’être ici sans toi m’ébranle

au-delà de l’amour, de la peur, des regrets ou de la colère dans ce royaume où vont les enfants qui veulent prendre soin/protéger leurs parents comme s’ils le pouvaient parfois les plus chanceu,ses y parviennent

dans le royaume où faire que chaque moment soit important riant comme si le rire tenait en échec la mort chaque mot donné reçu comme une pièce de huit

un trésor à enterrer avec contre ce jour d’ombre quand ça sera la seule pièce que je possèderai  qui pourra acheter la paix de l’esprit

when did we become friends? it happened so gradual i didn’t notice maybe i had to get my run out first take a big bite of the honky world and choke on it maybe that’s what has to happen with some uppity youngsters if it happens at all

and now the thought stark and irrevocable of being here without you shakes me

beyond love, fear, regret or anger into that realm children go who want to care for/protect their parents as if they could and sometimes the lucky ones do

into the realm of making every moment important laughing as though laughter wards off death each word given received like spanish eight

treasure to bury within against that shadow day when it will be the only coin i possess with which to buy peace of mind

Poet and writer Wanda Coleman was a blatantly humanist artist who won much critical acclaim for her unusually prescient and often innovative work, but who struggled to make a living from her craft. In discussing “my life in poetry,” More magazine, April 2005, Camille Paglia said of Coleman: “She’s not as central as she should be. Her language jumps off the page.” With twelve books of collected writings published by the small Black Sparrow Press by 2001, as well as numerous other publications, she has created a body of work that is first of all focused on racism and that, secondly, ponders the "outcast" status of living below the poverty line in California, specifically her birthplace Los Angeles, and the southwestern United States. Anger, unhappiness, hate, and violence are often intrinsic to the themes of her stories and poems. Her subjects are often controversial and her tone unapologetic. In his 1999 assessment, Alistair Paterson, Editor of Poetry New Zealand declared: “Coleman’s poetry, politically aware, darkly humorous, sensual and iconoclastic, presents a remarkable talent developed throughout a difficult life. . . . It’s the kind of poetry other writers can use as a yardstick for measuring their work—it sets a standard and demonstrates what a beautiful, adaptable, usable language colloquial English is.” Writing in Black American Literature Forum, Tony Magistrale summarized, "Coleman frequently writes to illuminate the lives of the underclass and the disenfranchised, the invisible men and women who populate America's downtown streets after dark, the asylums and waystations, the inner city hospitals and clinics. . . . Wanda Coleman, like Gwendolyn Brooks before her, has much to tell us about what it is like to be a poor black woman in America." Praise has also come from reviewers in a number of prominent magazines. Stephen Kessler wrote in Bachy that Coleman "shows us scary and exciting realms of ourselves," and Holly Prado noted in the Los Angeles Timesthat Coleman's "heated and economical language and head-on sensibility take her work beyond brutality to fierce dignity." Tamar Lehrich wrote in the Nation: "Wanda Coleman consistently confronts her readers with images, ideas and language that threaten to offend or at least to excite." Lehrich concluded that "Wanda Coleman's poetry and prose have been inspired by her frustration and anger at her position as a black woman and by her desire to translate those feelings into action." Encouraged to read by her parents, Coleman loved books, began writing poetry as a child of 5, and published her first poems in a local newspaper at age 13. However, she never enjoyed the public schools she attended in the 1950s and 1960s, and considered them "dehumanizing," according to Kathleen K. O'Mara in American Short-Story Writers Since World War II. Coleman attended several colleges, has never earned a degree, but often conducted workshops and teaches at university level. Married and the mother of two children by age 20, she worked many different kinds of jobs during the 1970s and 1980s. While working days, at night and on weekends she developed her craft by attending various writing workshops in and around Los Angeles, some springing up in the aftermath of the Watts Riots (August 1965) and encouraging what has become known as “at risk youth”; they included playwright Frank Greenwood’s Saturday workshop, novelist Budd Schulberg’s Watts Writers Workshop, Studio Watts, and Beyond Baroque. By 1969 she had divorced her first husband and planned to become a professional writer, but was forced to turn her energies to more pragmatic concerns. She supported her family by waiting tables and typing, among other jobs. In part, the difficulty of finding time to write while working led Coleman to concentrate on writing poems. Many of her poems have been translated into Spanish, French, German and Hungarian. A German translation of her short stories was published in 1991. The writer published her first short story "Watching the Sunset" in Negro Digest/Black World in 1970. During the 1970s Coleman experimented in theater, dance, television, and journalism. She won an Emmy for her work as a writer for the television soap opera Days of Our Lives during 1975-76, but Coleman's passion for non-commercial writing was undiminished. Her interest in poetry was deepened by the opportunity to make dramatic public performances. As she participated in the Los Angeles poetry scene, Coleman was influenced by poets Henri Coulette, Diane Wakoski, John Thomas, Clayton Eshleman, and Charles Bukowski, and mentored by Black Sparrow Press publisher "Papa" John Martin. Her first poetry manuscript was published as the chapbook Art in the Court of the Blue Fag in 1977. Within a few years, Coleman's work gained her attention from outside of the local literary circle. Mad Dog Black Lady (1979) and Imagoes (1983) earned her a National Endowment for the Arts grant (1981-82) and a Guggenheim Fellowship for Poetry (1984). In 1987 the author published her first collection to include short stories as well as poetry, Heavy Daughter Blues. An all-fiction volume published the next year, A War of Eyes and Other Stories (1988), strengthened a surge of critical attention and praise focused on Coleman during the 1980s. Her first novel, Mambo Hips and Make Believe, described as “ambitious,” appeared in 1999. Jazz and Twelve O’Clock Tales, a second volume of Coleman’s short stories, was published in 2008 by Black Sparrow Books, the new imprint of David R. Godine, Publisher, Inc. following the retirement of Martin’s Black Sparrow Press in 2002. University of Pittsburgh Press continues to publish her poetry, and a new volume, Ostinato Vamps, appeared in 2003. The collection of autobiographical stories and prose poems titled African Sleeping Sickness came out in 1990, including "Where the Sun Don't Shine" which won the 1990 Harriette Simpson Arnow Prize for fiction. Following this publication, O'Mara summarized, "What little negative criticism she has drawn has focused on her fragmentary vignettes as sketches that leave the reader wanting more, or her violence-laden plots as sometimes too predictable. Her finest skill is making human pain poetically concrete and devising dialogue that allows the reader under the skin of 'the other.'" Native in a Strange Land, a 1996 book of essays and articles offered readers a selection of non-fiction by Coleman including a 70s interview of reggae giant Bob Marley; her writings first published over a thirty-year span were modified for republication. Like Coleman's fiction, they were mostly based on her observations and personal experiences. Publishers Weekly explained "She gives us L.A. as a microcosm of what America is today and where it is heading. The picture is not always hopeful." The review also noted the author's "wry sense of humor" and called some of her ideas "Swiftian" for their gruesomely humorous bent. The book was described by Janice E. Braun in Library Journalas a "nonlinear memoir"; Braun concluded "Whether one identifies with Coleman or objects to her views, the writing is positively outstanding." The 1998 poetry collection Bathwater Wine, which received the 1999 Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize, returned Coleman's readers to a more familiar form. It was described by Publishers Weekly as "an encyclopedic, moment-by-moment accounting of left coast rage, witness and transcendence. . . ." Her collection Mercurochrome was a bronze-medal finalist in poetry for the 2001 National Book Awards. She has also received awards from the California Arts Council (fiction, 1982; poetry, 2002), a proclamation from the city of Los Angeles, and received its first literary award from the Department of Cultural Affairs (C.O.L.A.), 2003-2004. She was a nominee for California state poet laureate, and was considered the unofficial poet laureate of L.A. "As a poet," she once told Contemporary Authors, "I have gained a reputation, locally, as an electrifying performer/reader, and have appeared at local rock clubs, reading the same poetry that has taken me into classrooms and community centers for over five hundred public readings since 1973." Coleman added: "Words seem inadequate in expressing the anger and outrage I feel at the persistent racism that permeates every aspect of black American life. Since words are what I am best at, I concern myself with this as an urban actuality as best I can." After some forty years of writing Wanda Coleman remains devoted to the themes of racism and female experience and to Los Angeles. The city has been a vital part of her writings and an important outlet for her poetry readings, typically classified as “take-no-prisoners” performances (San Francisco Examiner, February 1986) that “bring you into her world” (LA Weekly, April 1984). Coleman has shared the stage with such legends as The Hollywood Ten, Allen Ginsberg, Timothy Leary, Gary Snyder, and Alice Coltrane. In the 80s, L.A.’s music underground welcomed Coleman as she appeared with Henry Rollins, Lydia Lunch, and Exene Cervenka with whom she recorded Twin Sisters. Her other creative interests not only included music, but the visual arts and a passion for theatre and public speaking. Coleman has acknowledged these diverse influences on her presentation style, including dancer-mentor Anna Halprin (Ceremony of Us), Julian Beck and Judith Malina (The Living Theatre), Antonin Artaud (The Theatre and Its Double), and Jerzy Grotowski (Towards a Theatre of the Poor). Frequently invited to perform in prisons (San Quentin, Berlin’s Moabit Detention Centre, Albion), as well as on campuses (Columbia, Duke, Spellman, Oberlin), in rock clubs (Detroit’s Metro, The Nuyorican Café, Wolfgang’s, The Whiskey), and at institutions across the United States (Folger Shakespeare Library, Manhattan Theatre Club, the Smithsonian) and overseas (Amsterdam, Paris, Stockhölm, Sydney), Coleman summarized her complex love-hate relationship with her birthplace by stating that when she visited other places, she “finds Los Angeles has been there before I arrive.”

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/wanda-coleman

[magali-demorangies-blog]

Formidable

By Stromae, 2013

The Story :

To go on with the serie of singers from Belgium, let's introduce here the great song written and sung by Stromae, Formidable. The song was released in 2013, and was the second single extracted from his album "Racine Carrée". This is not a Love song, but a very melancholical text saying a drunk homeless man's despair and loneliness. To create the video, Stromae accepted to play the drunk man on the central place of Brussels, in front of people who were not knowing there was hidden cameras... Before the film was released, many of the scene witnesses thought this was true and insulted him on the social networks.

The Song :

Official video clip (from YouTube):

The Lyrics :

    Formidable, formidable Terrific, terrific     Tu étais formidable, j'étais fort minable You were terrific, I was so pathetic     Nous étions formidables We were terrific     Formidable, formidable Terrific, terrific     Tu étais formidable, j'étais fort minable You were terrific, I was so pathetic     Nous étions formidables We were terrific Oh, bébé - oups ! - mademoiselle Oh, baby - oops ! - miss J'vais pas vous draguer, promis juré ! I won't flirt with you, promised sworn ! J'suis célibataire, depuis hier putain ! I'm sinle, since fucking yesterday ! J'peux pas faire d'enfant et bon c'est pas - Eh, reviens ! I can have no child and well that's not - Hey, come back ! Cinq minutes, quoi ! J't'ai pas insultée Five minutes, then ! I didn't insult you J'suis poli, courtois, et un peu fort bourré I'm polite, courteous, and a bit very drunk Mais pour les mecs comme moi, vous avez autre chose à faire hein But for guys like me, you are too busy hey Vous m'auriez vu hier, j'étais... You would have seen me yesterday, I was...     Formidable, formidable Terrific, terrific     Tu étais formidable, j'étais fort minable You were terrific, I was so pathetic     Nous étions formidables We were terrific     Formidable, formidable Terrific, terrific     Tu étais formidable, j'étais fort minable You were terrific, I was so pathetic     Nous étions formidables We were terrific Eh tu t'es regardé, tu t'crois beau Hey you looked at yourself, you think you're beautiful Parce que tu t'es marié, mais c'est qu'un anneau Because you're married, but it's only a ring Mec, t'emballe pas, elle va t'larguer Man, don't get excited, she's gonna dump you Comme elles le font chaque fois Like they do every time Et puis l'autre fille, tu lui en as parlé ? And about the other girl, you told her ? Si tu veux je lui dis, comme ça c'est réglé If you want I tell her, like this it's clear Et aux p'tits aussi, enfin si vous en avez And to the little ones too, well if you have any Attends trois ans, sept ans, et là vous verrez si c'est... Wait for three years, seven years, and then you'll see if that's...     Formidable, formidable Terrific, terrific     Tu étais formidable, j'étais fort minable You were terrific, I was so pathetic     Nous étions formidables We were terrific     Formidable, formidable Terrific, terrific     Tu étais formidable, j'étais fort minable You were terrific, I was so pathetic     Nous étions formidables We were terrific Eh petite - oh pardon ! - petit Hey little girl - oh sorry ! - little boy Tu sais dans la vie y'a ni méchant ni gentil You know in life there's neither wicked nor nice Si Maman est chiante, c'est qu'elle a peur d'être mamie If mom is bitchy, that's because she's afraid to be granny Si Papa trompe Maman, c'est parce que Maman vieillit, tiens ! If dad cheats on mom, that's because mom ages, so ! Pourquoi t'es tout rouge ? Ben, reviens gamin ! Why you're all red? Well, come back kid ! Et qu'est-ce que vous avez tous, à me regarder comme un singe, vous ? And what do you all have to look at me, like a monkey ? Ah oui vous êtes saints, vous ! Bande de macaques ! So yes, you are saints, aren't you ! Bunch of monkeys ! Donnez-moi un bébé singe, il sera... Gimme a monkey baby, he will be...     Formidable, formidable Terrific, terrific     Tu étais formidable, j'étais fort minable You were terrific, I was so pathetic     Nous étions formidables We were terrific     Formidable, formidable Terrific, terrific     Tu étais formidable, j'étais fort minable You were terrific, I was so pathetic     Nous étions formidables... We were terrific...