#solas is getting more enrichment

[shift-shaping]

despite the rain

solas and lady volant attend an extravagant party put on by the duke of wycome.

rating: t

pairing: solavellan

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first fic in this series

By the time Lady Volant and Solas arrived, the party at Castle Magnolia was well underway.

They had put off their appearance as long as they could, but each successive messenger sent to retrieve them from the apartment was more insistent than the last. They'd given excuses --needed to rest, to mend a sleeve, to answer a letter-- in the vain hope that they might wait out the party itself, or be forgotten once the drink was truly flowing. Rain, steady and cold, bought them more time still, but eventually there would be no more delaying.

Lady Guinevere Volant was dressed fashionably, yet modestly, in a long sleek dress with delicate floral details. Solas himself was once again in servant's clothes, albeit a somewhat more fitted set meant to compliment Lady Volant's. He was essentially her accessory, which suited his actual role of protecting her and watching their surroundings.

They blended in well at the party, though more so in terms of fashion than sobriety. Despite the eerie silence of their earlier tour through the city, this event was reasonably well attended. The rain had driven it indoors, with some brave, drunken souls spilling out into the darkness of the courtyard. Lady Volant easily sidestepped a stumbling couple and approached the guards at the door. At her introduction, they allowed her inside.

The ceilings of the main hall soared into vaults painted with elaborate scenes of the sea, a heavily dramatized celebration of the city's heritage. Paintings of well-dressed men and women lined the walls, some awkwardly crooked. Enormous gold-plated birds of prey stood before towering columns in a manner typical of Free Marcher excess. These birds looked unique though, with tall, thick bills and broad bodies --sea eagles? Above and around them were balconies dotted with colorfully-dressed party-goers, and to either side were wide hallways leading to other wings of the manor. Tall round tables were scattered about, most covered in discarded drinks and dirty plates. A few bards played clumsily-overlapping tunes, and a handful of half-nude men and women danced before leering eyes. He watched one dancer elegantly avoid a large puddle of what appeared to be wine on the floor, as if she'd gotten used to dancing around it.

Solas had seen far more opulent great halls, but for this age it was impressive enough. What alarmed him, however, was the suspicious lack of servants. The crooked paintings, the puddles on the floor, the unbussed tables --it was strange for such things to go unnoticed for so long at an event like this.

"Lady Ambassador!" Solas and Lady Volant turned to see a familiar bearded face smiling brightly at them. Duke Antoine seemed more at ease now, but maybe that was the result of the nearly-empty wine glass in his hand. With a prickle of apprehension Solas noticed the same elven slave from earlier lurking just over the Duke's shoulder. Solas felt less of a pull from the slave's magic on the Veil, but there was still an icy focus in his eyes.

That the slave was serving his master in this manner was not surprising in the least; Solas was extremely and personally familiar with the use of slaves to do dangerous magical bidding. What was surprising was the slave's dedication. He was obviously a talented mage, and could have defected to the Inquisition or even the nearby alienage with little effort. Solas sensed no charm present to track him, no curse to seal him to the Duke. Unless he was missing something, that left only mundane leverage to keep the slave in his place: threats to family, to friends, to a home somewhere.

If it was possible to untangle the slave from his master's web, the effort would be worth it to acquire a gifted agent. But to do that, Solas would need to find out what that web consisted of, and he saw no clear path towards that goal. His purpose was to investigate the Duke and protect Lady Volant, not necessarily to recruit.

The Duke and Lady Volant exchanged pleasantries, and the Duke offered her a glass of wine. She accepted, and the Duke looked around for a server.

He made eye contact with a young elven woman in the corner of the room. She held a bottle of wine and a few empty glasses on a round silver platter. As far as Solas could tell, she was the only server near them. She nodded to the Duke, and as she approached the bottle wavered on the platter. She reached up and steadied it, grasping it by the neck, and nearly knocked one of the glasses off in the process. Lady Volant continued her conversation with the Duke as the server handed her one of the glasses --smudged around the base-- and very slowly attempted to pour the wine into the glass.

"No more than half," Lady Volant said gently. "Too much and I'll get a terrible rash." The server nodded. The wine splashed into the glass instead of pouring smoothly, and some landed on the server's ill-fitted sleeve. She had poured maybe a third of a glass before stopping and looking at Lady Volant, who thanked her.

Relieved, the server put the bottle unsteadily back on to the platter and turned to leave. Typically, an event like this would dress servers in neatly fitted dress meant to accentuate the wealth and grandeur of the host. The uniform this woman wore scarcely looked like it belonged to her at all, with sleeves so long they had to be rolled, a baggy undershirt that barely fit under the jacket, and trousers a few inches too short.

The Duke did not seem to care, having instead launched into a lecture about the wine they were drinking, but the slave watched the server closely. She did not return to her post, and disappeared down one of the large hallways leading to another wing of the manor.

They began a tour, the ambassador once again treated as an honored guest. Unlike that morning, the Duke took the time to introduce her to other members of the upper class. Given the silence of the noble estates earlier, it was unsurprising that many of these guests were visitors from elsewhere.

Lady Volant had been clever in telling the server she wouldn't be drinking much. Avoiding any of the food or beverages at the party was wise considering there were Venatori present.

"Messere," a small voice said. Solas took his eyes from the ambassador's conversation to see a short, freckled elf with delicately braided orange hair. She bowed slightly, and the platter in her hand stayed steady. Upon it were hors d'oeuvres wrapped in napkins. "You are a guest this evening as well. Is there anything we can get for you?"

"No, thank you," he replied. Though she was short, even for an elf in this age, her clothing was a much better fit for her than the previous server he'd seen.

"Of course," she said, but she ignored his reply and handed him a shrimp tartlet. He raised an eyebrow. She nodded to him, then retreated without fully leaving the room.

Solas observed the tartlet closely, uncertain of what to do with it, before he noticed tiny scribbles on the napkin. As discreetly as possible, he unfolded the paper and read the message.

My name is Emilie. I have lived and worked here for years. I do not know who any of these servants are. Please help.

Solas quickly folded the napkin and put it into the pocket of his trousers. He looked to where the server had gone, worried she might have left the room in hopes he would follow. But then he saw her just outside the main party space, near an unstaffed bar in a state of disarray. It had a direct line of sight to where they were standing.

"Ambassador," he said softly, speaking to Lady Volant just over her shoulder. "I am going to get myself a drink." She looked up at him, and he glanced towards the bar. "Would you like anything else?"

She followed his gaze to the bar and shook her head. "No, I'm quite alright, thank you. But you should see to your own needs."

"Of course." He left her with the Duke, the slave, and several guests. The bar was close enough that he could still intervene if something went awry.

Emilie stood up straighter as he approached and put her tray of tartlets on the bar. "Messere."

He took the note from his pocket and swiftly burned it. Her eyes widened at his casual magic use, but she didn't comment on it. 

"Who are the other servants, if not the Duke's own?" He said quietly. He still held the tartlet.

"I don't know. I was only gone for a week to visit a friend in Bastion. When I came back, everyone was --replaced." She looked around for a moment before going on. "I don't know what to do. You are Inquisition, though, yes? You help people? Mages and-- and elves, right?"

It was somewhat heartening to know that 'helping people' was the Inquisition's reputation to this person, especially given that 'helping mages and elves' was primarily due to Enaste's decision-making. But it also reminded him of the target on their back.

"You should go, da'len," he urged. "If the other servants have been replaced, you are likely not supposed to be here." He looked towards the entrance hall. "Go to the alienage and hide. If anyone bothers you, tell them you were sent by Enaste Lavellan." He paused, then went on. "And if you see Enaste Lavellan, tell her Solas sent you."

"Enaste Lavellan, that's... The Inquisitor herself?" She asked, and Solas nodded. She opened her mouth, then shook her head. "But I don't know the alienage, I haven't even been there in years. I live here, in the servant's quarters. And... and what if the other servants are hurt? What if something happened to them?"

Solas looked at Emilie seriously. "What would you do to save them?"

"I..." She hesitated, then looked at him with a stubborn determination. "I know the castle. If they're still here, somewhere, I could help you find them."

"If the servants here have been infiltrated as thoroughly as I suspect, they will know the castle too. Unless you have a very good idea of where they are, you are better off keeping yourself alive by fleeing to safety."

"But they're... Some of them are my family. I know them, I..."

"And if you are hurt or killed trying to rescue them, where will that leave you?"

She looked down, visibly frustrated. He waited, giving her space to think. Then her shoulders sagged, and she nodded. "Okay. You're right."

He was relieved. As long as she got out of the estate, she should be safe and able to give them more information about the infiltration later.

She looked at his hand, then at the tray of tartlets. He went to put the tartlet down, and she cocked her head. "You don't like shrimp?"

"Abelas, please take no offense. I am simply uncertain of the precise... Ingredients."

"Oh," Emilie frowned, then took one of the tartlets and popped it in her mouth. Solas felt a little silly watching her eat it. She shrugged as she swallowed. "See? No poison."

"Fair enough, but you'll forgive my caution."

She glanced at the tray. "I do. Well," she looked past him, towards the entrance hall. "I'll take your advice. Enaste Lavellan?" She repeated.

"Lavellan," he corrected her pronunciation slightly, the Inquisitor's surname rolling off his tongue.

"Understood." She bowed quickly. "And thank you. Try to stay safe."

"We will."

…

The rain outside grew louder and the wind picked up as the party wound down to a more intimate size. The servers, few and far between, had eventually bussed some of the tables, but they were so far behind that they had no hope of catching up. At least the fireplaces were lit.

Lady Volant joined the Duke and a handful of other guests by one such fireplace, sharing hard leather couches. Solas stood off to the side, watching the ambassador and keeping an eye on the slave standing behind the Duke.

The slave's posture suddenly straightened, and the young man turned towards the entrance hall. Solas followed his gaze to see a tall, well-dressed human man flanked by several people --either servants or unarmed guards-- approaching them. The only one of the manor's servers Solas could see stiffened at the sight of the new guest.

The Duke turned in his seat and smiled, a bit too wide. "Magister Malchus! How wonderful that you've made it despite the rain! Come, have a seat."

The advisor was completely dry despite said rain, likely the result of a spell. "I apologize for my lateness, your Grace. I do appreciate the invitation." He spoke with a heavier accent than most of the Tevinters Solas had met.

"Lady Ambassador, this is Magister Lanius Malchus, of the Circle of Magi at Marnas Pell," the Duke announced as the Magister joined them by the fire. "Magister, this is Lady Guinevere Volant, the Inquisition ambassador to Wycome."

Lady Volant smiled warmly at the Magister. "What an honor to meet one of Tevinter's highest officials."

Malchus returned her smile. "I am honored to meet a woman as beautiful as yourself. And well-read: not many southerners understand Tevinter's titles."

Solas eyed the Magister's other servants. They were humans, as far as he could tell, broader and more built than the elves. He saw no sign of shackles. None of them had weapons nor were any actively using a spell.

As they talked, mostly trading pleasantries, the slave who had been babysitting the Duke retreated from his post. He still lingered close by, lurking in the shadows beside a cluttered standing table. From his vantage, he should have a clear view of the conversation. Seizing his opportunity, Solas crossed the room to join the slave. 

The young man regarded him coldly. At first neither said anything, their ears trained to the cautious political dance going on by the fire. Then, to Solas's surprise, the slave broke the silence.

"You are a powerful mage," he observed quietly, his accent thick around the words.

"As are you," Solas replied.

One of the servers approached them, and Solas tensed. She offered them both drinks, already filled with dark red wine. "Drinks, messeres?" She asked softly.

The slave looked at him. He still had that ridiculous wig, but it was better kept and styled now. The server, not waiting for an answer, put both glasses on the table. One was clearly closer to Solas, the other to the slave. Then the server left them alone.

Neither moved. "You do not have to do this," Solas hissed.

"You know nothing of me."

"I do." He stared hard at the slave, eyes narrowed. "I know you have carried the weight of shackles like a noose around your neck. I know your blood runs hot from how often worse men than yourself have spilt it." The slave finally looked at him, his expression hard and cold. "I know what it is like to want what you believe impossible to have."

"You will win no allies here, Inquisition," the slave responded sharply. "You are surrounded." His eyes gleamed in the dark. "You will die here, in your old world, and we will bring the dawn anew."

Solas snorted, and the slave flinched in surprise. "You honestly believe that? Is that what your master told you?" The slave looked away. "That your Elder One will break your chains?"

"My chains are broken," he snarled. "I am no slave, stultissime."

Though that surprised him, Solas just shook his head. "The Magister owes you nothing. He will use you again so long as you remain in his grip."

"You have no idea what he owes me." He reached for the glass of wine beside him, but Solas was quicker, and took the glass meant for the younger elf. He narrowed his eyes, but slowly took the glass meant for Solas.

The glass was no cleaner than any of the others Solas had seen that evening. The wine was impenetrably dark. He held it up to toast. "Sanitas, lethallin."

The glasses clinked together. Solas took a drink, confident that by switching the glasses, he'd thwarted the server's plot.

Then he saw the same server staring at him from over the younger elf's shoulder, eyes wide, one hand raised, and realized he made a terrible mistake. The wine tasted like ashes in his throat, and as soon as it settled in his stomach a horrid burn arced through his blood.

His vision blurred, like heat rising from stone, and he felt suddenly like his bones weren't connected to each other. There was a commotion as the fire overtook his mind, boiling his thoughts until he was conscious of little else but pure pain.

As his knees gave out underneath him, Solas watched the man he thought was a slave sip from the glass meant for him. His lips tilting into a smirk was the last thing Solas saw before everything went white, then black.

translation notes: stultissime - fool sanitas - health (used as a toast)

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follow on ao3 here!

[thenamesblurrito]

more Aventuri mecha! it's actually been insanely fun reaching back five years to resurrect the shapeless abandoned OCs and give them form for this colony

Skamma is a bold, enterprising bot with a lot of big ideas! ideas that will capture the minds and the wallets of many a client, enriching their imaginations while she enriches herself, before she scampers away as the market bubble pops, the investments fail, and the business pursuit grinds to a halt. somehow, none of the hundreds of bad reviews manage to prevent Skamma from shilling her latest scam to eager new buyers, of which there are plenty in industrial Temperon. if business gets real bad, well, good thing she got her hands on that universal travel pass a few years ago, she'll simply find better customers in other city-states! although she has no outlier ability other than typical Aventuri extremophilic adaptations, her compact all-terrain trike mode serves her equally well on snow and stone, and her radium inclusions light the way in shadelocked Temperon. Primus help us if Skamma and Swindle ever meet

Sledge is a simple mech, with a simple alt mode, simple jasper inclusions, and a simple life. he enjoys his job as a courier, battling hurricane winds to transport cargo from one Nova Spectra city to another. it's a daily test of strength he is more than capable of winning as a sturdy jet, and though he may be on the lower end of the social scale, he sticks with the contractors who treat him fairly. a lot of his work is schlepping archives, artifacts, and ritual objects between Tributic shrines throughout Spectral's pilgrimage territory. many shamans have noticed he's sharp as a tack, genial, and dutifully patient, and lately Sledge has been offered a place as shrine staff in Central Sola. that's more than he ever expected to be offered as someone with no abilities beyond Aventuri durability, considering the majority of shrine staff are high-level outliers, but still he struggles to make a decision. that's not really the kind of lifestyle he pictures himself pursuing. what's a simple mech to do?

Glitterswarm is nice! she's nice, and she tries very hard to be nice, and it's very important to her to be nice. she doesn't want to hurt anybody, and the nicer she is to people, the more likely they are to help her! and she certainly needs a lot of help, considering she was recovered out in the ice floes of the Bitter Sea, half-dead, stuck in her amphibious alt mode, and totally amnesiac. the records of the Ulyssean capital Albedo City have her written down as a casualty of an alien raid several centuries ago, so the fact that she's turned up again on Aventuras, traumatized but alive, is a miraculous mystery. she used to be a caretaker for newly forged mecha, particularly adept considering her outlier ability: she's a nanohive, a frame with a swarm of nanobots that act as an extension of herself. before, she was steady and skilled enough to heal wounds, reprogram circuitry, support a slippery grip, display holograms, and more, using the nanobots streaming from her vents without a second thought. now, though, she's nervous and uncertain, with a shaky grasp of her own abilities. it takes a lot of effort just to polish her ametrine inclusions, much less look after anyone else. maybe someday she'll regain her memories, but for now she's trying to find her feet again, mothering anyone who will let her in an effort to cover her own anxiety

[libriaco]

Letture & Riletture

Owing to the flood of shallow books which really are exhausted in one reading, the modern mind tends to think every book is the same, finished in one reading. But it is not so. And gradually the modern mind will realise it again. The real joy of a book lies in reading it over and over again, and always finding it different, coming upon another meaning, another level of meaning. It is, as usual, a question of values: we are so overwhelmed with quantities of books, that we hardly realise any more that a book can be valuable, valuable like a jewel, or a lovely picture, into which you can look deeper and deeper and get a more profound experience every time. It is far, far better to read one book six times, at intervals, than to read six several books. Because if a certain book can call you to read it six times, it will be a deeper and deeper experience each time, and will enrich the whole soul, emotional and mental. Whereas six books read once only are merely an accumulation of superficial interest, the burdensome accumulation of modern days, quantity without real value. Cioè, all'incirca: A causa della valanga di libri dozzinali che si esauriscono veramente con una sola lettura, la mente moderna tende a pensare che per ogni libro sia la stessa cosa, finito dopo una sola lettura. Ma non è così. E gradualmente la mente moderna se ne renderà conto di nuovo. Il vero piacere un libro lo dà leggendolo più e più volte e trovandolo sempre diverso, incontrando un altro significato, un altro livello di significato. È, come al solito, una questione di valori: siamo così sopraffatti dalla quantità di libri che difficilmente ormai ci rendiamo conto che un libro può essere prezioso, prezioso come un gioiello o un bel quadro, in cui si può guardare più e più a fondo e provare un'esperienza ogni volta più intensa. È molto, molto meglio leggere un libro sei volte, a intervalli, piuttosto che leggere sei libri diversi perché se un certo libro ci può invitare a leggerlo sei volte, ogni volta sarà un'esperienza sempre più profonda e arricchirà tutto i nostri spiriti, emotivi e mentali, mentre sei libri letti una sola volta sono invece soltanto un accumularsi di un interesse superficiale, l'accumulo gravoso dei tempi moderni: quantità senza valore reale.

D. H. Lawrence, Apocalypse [1931], London-New York, Penguin, 1995

Via LaudatorTemporisActi.

L'immagine: C. Collodi, Pinocchio [1871], Firenze, Salani, 1959. Illustrazioni di Carlo Vitoli Russo.

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

For Rook Concepts: My Rook is a member of the Mourn Watch, a Qunari who got a job at the Necropolis as a guard against grave robbers and worked his way up -or shall I say down- to the echelons of the Mourn Watch. There, he first met Emmrich. The care with which Emmrich went about his work captivated him but as a lowly guard, he had no hopes that he would be noticed. Best to just admire from afar. Meanwhile Emmrich does notice the young Qunari guard newly assigned to his section of the Necropolis and while his heart stirs for the first time in years, he knows he is far far too old for him. There is no possibility that he would be interested. Then Emmrich is dispatched to deal with Solas, his tampering with the Veil threatening the careful balance of the Necropolis and all its residents with demonhood. The Mourn Watch is concerned about a man of his years in so much danger and assigns the young Qunari guard to travel with him as protection.....

I'm glad that Emmrich is getting so much love from the fandom, and I've seen all sorts of concepts made for him and Rook! I feel like a Qunari/mage dynamic can be very similar to what people are hoping for when creating a mage for Lucanis. It subverts the expectations and stereotypes made by the lore to create a more enriching narrative. I hope Emmrich and your Rook have the opportunity to become great friends (and more if your story goes that way-) and learn to appreciate what the other has to offer on a personal and a professional level; admiring one another from afar can only take them so far!

[spainsola]

Exploring Flower Therapy Massage at Spa in Sola: The Massage Pack for Ultimate Relaxation.

Introduction:

In today's time, everyone is so busy with their work that they are unable to even take care of their health. Everyone wants to adopt new methods to remain healthy and get relief from stress.

Are you bored with common massages and looking for a different method to relax and rejuvenate? There is no need to look any further! Flower therapy massage at our Spa in Sola, is the newest wellness trend that blends the therapeutic power of touch with the relaxing fragrance and essence of flowers. Join us on a pleasant journey as we explore the world of flower therapy massage and learn why it's quickly becoming one of Blue Sea Thai Spa’s most popular spa services.

What is Flower Therapy Massage?

Flower therapy massage is a holistic method that blends the healing powers of flowers with the power of touch therapy. It is an opulent massage technique that uses natural flowers and essential oils to promote relaxation, reduce stress, and uplift the spirit. This massage, inspired by ancient healing methods, attempts to restore equilibrium between mind, body, and spirit, encouraging total well-being.

Flower Therapy Massage Procedure:

Consultation: When you arrive at Best Spa in Sola, you will be greeted pleasantly by our skilled massage therapist. They will begin the appointment by doing a brief consultation to learn about your specific issues, preferences, and medical history. This phase guarantees that you receive a personalized and successful treatment plan that is suited to your specific needs.

Flower Selection: The massage therapist will next lead you through a selection of fresh, aromatic flowers and essential oils. Each flower has its own healing characteristics that address specific requirements. This tailored choosing procedure makes the massage experience more personal.

Preparation: After selecting the flowers, the therapist will gently cleanse your feet in scented water enriched with flower extracts. This relaxing foot ritual helps you relax and prepares you for the massage ahead. It also permits your body to absorb the initial flower therapy advantages.

Massage Technique: The massage therapist will professionally blend the chosen flowers and essential oils to produce customized massage oil for you. They will employ a range of massage such as lengthy strokes, kneading, and gentle stretching.

Sensory Experience: You will be immersed in the calming perfume of the flowers during the massage, producing a multisensory experience. The smells of the flowers encourage relaxation, alleviate anxiety, and elevate your mood, resulting in a wonderful state of tranquility.

How It Is Beneficial For You?

Reduces tension and Anxiety: Flower Therapy Massage at our Spa near Sola, relieves tension and anxiety by soothing the nervous system and fostering deep relaxation. The aroma of flowers, such as lavender or rose, causes the body's natural feel-good hormones, endorphins, to be released, lowering anxiety and elevating mood. This holistic approach to relaxing allows you to let go of daily concerns and immerse yourself in blissful tranquility.

Improves Blood Circulation: Therapists masterfully mix moderate pressure techniques with the medicinal powers of flowers during this massage. Because the manipulations increase blood flow, they help to improve circulation throughout the body. Increased circulation delivers important nutrients and oxygen to the cells, promoting cell regeneration and general health. The encounter leaves you feeling revitalized and revitalized.

Nourishes the Skin: Flowers are not only visually pleasing, but they also have various skin-beneficial properties. This massage makes use of flower-infused oils or floral essences to nourish and hydrate the skin. Flowers with soothing characteristics, such as chamomile or jasmine, encourage skin suppleness and a beautiful complexion. The luxurious massage, combined with the healing properties of flowers, leaves your skin silky smooth and deeply moisturized.

Harmonizes Emotions and Energies: It is known for its capacity to harmonize emotions and energies in addition to its physical advantages. Each flower has its own energy signature, and the combination of flowers utilized during the massage corresponds to the client's emotional demands. Flowers' medicinal scent improves mood, removes emotional barriers, and fosters a sense of well-being and equilibrium. This comprehensive approach encourages a stronger bond between the mind, body, and spirit.

Promotes Restful Sleep: Are you tossing and turning at night, trying to settle a restless mind? Flower Therapy Massage can aid in the promotion of restful sleep. This massage causes relaxation by using flowers recognized for their calming characteristics, such as chamomile or ylang-ylang. It also relieves insomnia and improves sleep quality. Those who embrace this beautiful spa experience will have a restful night's sleep.

Conclusion:

At Blue Sea Thai Spa, professional therapists mix the therapeutic power of touch therapy with nature's rich flowers to create the ethereal bliss of flower therapy massage. This wonderful massage technique not only relaxes your body but also your emotions and spiritual well-being. Allow the lovely smell to transport you to a state of absolute tranquillity as you enter a world of floral ecstasy. Make your appointment today and let the flowers and the therapists' talented hands work their magic on you.

For more information please visit: https://blueseathaispa.com/

[solatgif]

TGIF: Roundup for April 7, 2023

Happy Easter! In case you missed it, check out our series of devotions for the season on Substack.

We published 4 new articles this week: The “Model Minority” Myth in the Asian American Church by Andrew Lee, 5 Lessons from the Japanese American Internment by Tom Sugimura, Good Grief by Linda Kim, and “Church History” for Kids and Adults: A Book Review.

This newsletter is one of the many ways you can keep in touch with us. Find us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. For more, check out my Asian American Worship Leaders Facebook group and TGIF Playlist on Spotify. You can reach me on Twitter and Instagram.

Aaron Lee, Editorial Curator

Enter to win these excellent books! Reviews are in the section below. Thanks to The Good Book Company and Robert J. Nash for providing these books for our giveaway, in partnership with my newsletters for @diveindigdeep and FCBC Walnut.

Articles From Around The Web

Heidi Wong: Gods and Gangsters

“Instead of gearing up for the next battle in the culture war, the church must first be willing to abandon the superfluous nature of its mansion in order to be set free from shackles that blind it.”

Samuel Lee: These 3 Japanese Christian Women Changed Their Country

“Meet an early evangelist, an education reformer, and a preacher who held Bible studies with the royal family.”

Daniel Jung: Narco Saints’ Drug-Dealing Pastor

“The Netflix series works as both crime drama and critique of Korean megachurch culture.”

The SOLA College Writing Cohort is our new writing cohort for college-age students to receive mentorship and training as young Christian writers. Editorial Board member Soojin Park will personally be leading this initiative, and she is very excited at the prospect of nurturing the next generation of Asian American thinkers and writers who will help encourage and edify the Church!

Books, Podcasts, Music, And More

TGC Front Row Seat Podcast: Moving to a New Place with Irene Sun

Kristen Wetherell and Kari Olson invite Irene Sun to discuss the challenges and joys of moving to a new place as a pastor’s wife. Irene shares her story of moving from Chicago to Pittsburgh, how prayer was her lifeline through every transition, and the importance of giving thanks to the Lord when we’re in a foreign land.

Gateway Chapel: Hanley Liu

Pastor Hanley reminds us of our deep need for living water that truly satisfies our souls – that all of humanity is in need of this living water. When Jesus was cut off from the living water on the cross, he made a way so that all who trust in him will never thirst again.

Aaron Lee: Related Works

Book Reviews: Wherever You Go, I Want You to Know… (Keepsake Edition) by Melissa B. Kruger, Say the Right Thing by Carolyn Lacey, God’s Not Done with You by John Meador, Words of the Resurrected by Robert J. Nash. Listen to our TGIF playlist on Spotify. Join my Asian American Worship Leaders Facebook group.

Check out the new edition of our SOLA Network Magazine! Download it for free and share it with your friends as a great way to be introduced to the work we do at SOLA Network.

Featured This Week On SOLA Network

Aaron Lee: “Church History” for Kids and Adults: A Book Review

“How did we get from the Great Commission to the modern church today? In Church History, Simonetta Carr presents the important people, places, and events of church history.”

Linda Kim: Good Grief

“When waves of grief wash over me in unexpected ways, I am letting the tears flow. I am inviting them in and allowing myself to sit in the grief because it helps me to know that Jesus sits with me.”

Tom Sugimura: 5 Lessons from the Japanese American Internment

“Although the mass evacuation and incarceration of Japanese Americans were neither right nor wise, the experience nevertheless enriched the church’s spiritual life as nothing else could have. Consider lessons the church today can learn as we minister to fellow believers who similarly face adversity.”

Andrew Lee: The “Model Minority” Myth in the Asian American Church

“Asian Americans continue to live in the liminal space of the margins. This is not to say Asian Americans have not gained that much in both secular and religious life. However, as the ‘model minority,’ we remain on the outside, looking to the majority for guidance and direction in matters of church and faith.”

TGIF: Roundup for March 31, 2023

Judgment for Pastors: How Shepherds Prepare to Meet Jesus / Resisting the Impulse of Self-Optimization / Chinese Christians Adapt Under New Restrictions / On the CROSS Conference / How God’s Daughters Can Create for His Glory

General disclaimer: Our link roundups are not endorsements of the positions or lives of the authors.

[onlinejoynagarsweets]

Why do Fake Flowers Look So Unique

Becoming a center of attraction artificial flowers are the shine of any event. People are in love with fake flowers due to their beautiful colors, shapes, and many other features.

Also known as silk flowers, these flowers are enriched with brilliant qualities. Guess what, these flowers are also making wedding bells ring.

Yes, that’s true. The phenomenal beauty of sola wood flowers is driving people crazy. Event managers are mostly using artificial orchids, and a bunch of tulips to decorate the stage of the wedding.

Now, what’s more on the plate? Let us get a gist of it and have some glowing features of the best artificial flowers.

Fake Flowers Don’t have a Fake Shine

Real-looking artificial flowers are blessed with the best materials of great quality. The superb beauty of the fake flowers is amazingly incredible for many occasions.

Decorating a birthday table, or brightening up the Mandap of marriage, artificial flowers throw their beauty everywhere.

Let us check some great features of fake flowers,

Hypoallergenic

The sola wood flowers are quite hypoallergenic in nature. This means that the material used to make fake flowers is not allergic.

People tend to sneeze, have burning eyes, and itching like allergies to original flowers. But these problems are not there with fake flowers.

Real Looking

There comes a variety of fake flowers in the market. Nowadays, artificial flowers are designed using natural materials that give a real look to the flowers.

This is why individuals love to decorate their weddings and other events with these real-looking flowers. It makes the ambiance amazing and is also used for theme parties.

Cost-Friendly

The artificial flowers are quite inexpensive compared to the original flowers. Real flowers have to be plucked from the plants and require high maintenance.

But there is no such problem with fake flowers. With the use of the least expensive material, we can easily design beautiful fake flowers. This makes them cost-effective.

The Conclusion

The bottom line suggests using fake flowers as they look unique and have mesmerizing qualities. This inclines most individuals toward using fake flowers than the real ones.

For Audio: Click Here

[corseque]

You said that there are things that you would have tweaked about the Blackwall and Cullen romances. What is it that you would change?

This is just annoying opinion on my part. I don’t focus on or study these characters so this is just a gut “I want to edit this a little bit” feeling, so just take it with a lot of salt. My writing process involves mentally editing everything I consume

Cullen’s romance is like the romance you get after a lifetime of struggle where you finally get your reward, but we didn’t actually get to see the bit where he changes his mind and thus earns the reward. He changes his mind about mages off-screen after years of working for meredith, and I love redemption, but we don’t really know what happened to him to do that. 

Conflict is really good, especially in romance. It makes it feel real and earned. I know some romances are there to be the calm reprieve from the storm, and comforting, but again, this is my opinion, but I think it can be a reprieve WHILE both characters are challenged into being better people. I want to see them both transform. So for Cullen to have transformed before the start of the game, it’s a wasted opportunity for drama and interest to me. Imagine dating Kirkwall Cullen as a mage, after he loved the mage Hero of Ferelden (which, the part where he loved the Hero of Ferelden is fully canon in my gamestate, from my baby’s first playthrough of DAO), and after the circle fell both times and he was there. That’s high drama, man.

So I would simply just make him start out as where he was in da2, and have him change his mind during the story because he met you. Still use the lyrium addiction as another set element to enrich the material. Have him working through trauma and work through his prejudices, and really earn that happy dog ending by contrasting with where he starts, and more fairly contrasting him with Samson. As it is, he kind of starts out pretty well-adjusted, and I kind of felt it could have been riskier or more threatening, with more conflict, given what the feeling was with his character in the previous games. I feel like he could have been more like Samson, almost. Like, less put together, less repaired before you meet him?

Blackwall’s romance, playing the second time around, I think he needed something besides Wardens to let him talk about something without lying, so we get to know him better. I feel like he lies more openly and often than Solas does, and Weekes talked about how that is a risk that weakens their characters if you do it too much. They described that they like, finally found Solas after drafting a couple really bad drafts, because they finally wrote Solas as a character in his own right that could fully stand even if the Big Reveal never happened. He could have just been simply Fade Professor and it would have actually worked for the whole game, and it was a strong enough character concept to stand up. I think Blackwall was very nearly to that point as well, but he doesn’t stand up as well for me. So just like some kind of added “Fade Professor” element, but for Blackwall. 

I desperately love that Blackwall is a self-hating soft man bear who just wants to worship his lady, and I love that Cullen is an anxious traumatized man who finds love after a lifetime of pain. These are actually slight changes. I really did like these romances, I’m just nowadays always looking at writing trying to think what I like or don’t like, and what I would slightly change to suit my interest.

I know this sounds like “make both these romances more like the Solas romance” but I mean, Solas romance is really good and moving to me, so I’m trying to figure out why I like it the best, and what I could do to give the other ones the same interest level and complexity because... I mean, they deserve it. Why can’t they have that too? So obviously, my tastes would be to make them more complex with more conflict. For some people that would be the very opposite of what they want or need in these romances.

In both romances, I would also try to make the inquisitor transform and be explored as a character as much as I possibly could. 

[kedreeva]

Hi, I’m sure you must get this question a lot but can you speak about peafowl as pets? I have a private, mostly secluded 5 acre farm with horses and chickens and I’m seriously considering adding peafowl into the mix.

I have indeed gotten this question a lot! I went through and grabbed what I could find from my blog. I’m sure there are ones I missed or things I could have added, but it should cover almost everything you could possibly want to know about peafowl. If you read through it all and still have specific questions, feel free to come ask, or drop me a PM!

General Information

General care article I wrote

Peafowl vs Chickens care

Things you should know up front

Things you should REALLY know up front

Noise level

no really, noise level (vocalizations)

Screaming

Even the babies do it

The babies sleep like they’re dead and it’s terrifying

Baby warning

Please give babies a stuffed animal

Also a chicken friend

General information

How long to maturity?

Language notes

How children should hold baby birds

On feather gathering

Can you eat their eggs? Yes.

Please stop putting peafowl on leashes

seriously stop it 

it’s the worst

Even experienced handlers get injuries

Note that these were acquired while handling all the birds for NPIP certification testing to check for salmonella pullorum

Housing Information

General housing information

References (young pen construction)

References (Young pen finished)

Different young pen

Adult housing

In construction

More photos

Early construction

Early construction II

Inside the coop

Original pen construction

Original pen construction II

Original pen construction III

Original pen construction IV

Original pen construction V

Cold weather/emergency housing

Peafowl and climate

Baby cage + some medical

Inside barn housing + babies

More barn photos

On cleaning pens

Outdoor pens need LESS cleaning, but still need scraped for waste and to have the feathers raked out after molting

Heated perches and radiant heaters

Get yourself a perch scraper 

Feeding/Treat Information

On treats and feeding

Feeding notes

Treats and behavior

Kale enrichment

Why kale?

Raw meat?

On millet

Enrichment

More leaves (video)

Toys

Laser pointer

Behavioral Information

Social affection

Peahen dominance display

Male bowing

Peahens and babies also raise trains

Can peafowl fly? Yes.

And they’re beautiful

On Molting

Baby dustbath station

On peafowl indoors

On eating peafowl

More notes (graphic pictures)

On letting birds mourn

Laying behavior to look for

Discussion of Taming

Interaction advice

On baby care

On Loafing Around

Feral interaction advice

On Free ranging

Free ranging notes

Links to tame behaviors

Picking up my tame birds

Idiot Baby + perch hold

Baby birds and affection

You will have to deal with this at some point

Probably many times

And they won’t be nice about it

Trained behaviors

Tail up!

Up! command

Up! command

Ask nicely

Genetics and breeding:

Masterpost of peafowl genetics (slightly outdated)

Problems in peafowl

Further notes on inbreeding

Birds to avoid

Java outcrossing

Information about Leucism vs Albinism + Pied

Pied morph information

Leucism/Pied information

Albinos

Conformation discussion

Conformation notes for purple peafowl

Further notes

Squat conformation health notes

Helios specific notes

Quality comparison

Poor Quality discussion

Sexing chicks

More information

Pattern comparison (angel wing pied)

Color comparison (with photos)

Egg and breeding info

On hatching deaths

Reference for the above

Incubator vs Hen hatching

Cabinet incubators are best

On candling eggs

Fresh babies info

Intersex peafowl

On Trans peafowl

Chicken/Peacock hybrids

Medical references

Sola and bread

Giving pills

Sola sinus infection

On belly buttons

Medical information on Stan and Artemis

Bird-rito and shoes

Shoes

Stan’s shoes

Splayed Legs

More splayed leg info

Splayed legs (and curled toes) are often a result of a lack of vitamin E in the parent birds.

Panting/overheating behavior

My advice before acquiring peafowl is to locate a veterinarian that will see them if something goes wrong and assess whether they seem to know what they’re doing (a good vet that does not know much about peafowl will admit this to you up front). I would also ask if they’re willing to take consult from other vets, because a vet unwilling to talk to other vets for consult is a vet you do not want to see.

Color references

Masterpost of color photos

Peach peacocks

Purple loud pied peahen

Purple blackshoulder pied peacock

Purple blackshoulder pied hen vs cock

On purple bleaching

Cameo blackshoulder white-eye

Cameo

White peacock (tail visible)

Opal Peacock

Bronze, Peach, Montana, and Taupe

Taupe is a mixed-color bird; genetically it is both purple and opal at the same time.

Peach is a mixed-color bird; genetically it is both purple and cameo at the same time.

Montana is new and can have severe health problems.

Elfenbien Peafowl

Java Greens

More

Baby feather patterns

Hen vs Cock as babies

Blue vs purple train feathers

Pied/Leucism vs Vitiligo

Feathers and Anatomy

Alula anatomy

Wing compartment

Yearling feathers

Hen train feather

Primary coverts

Tail feather

Random Other Information

On selling

Peafowl diapers information

Peafowl Diaper Making Tutorial/Pattern

picture of diaper off bird

More diaper notes

Diaper care

Applying a diaper

Best diaper post

Feral Peas

Accurate humor facts

Immediately after hatching

[blarfkey]

8 and 11 for fanfic writer asks!

Thanks babe!

#8 -- How often do people catch onto your little details? 

Since Solas is Ellana’s benefactor/paying for her college education/secret pen pal, its fun to have him slip up on vague ways that wouldn’t bust him but the readers know exactly what he meant. And a lot of them do catch it and freak out! But its also vague enough that a lot of them don’t notice it all, which is good, cause I want it to be realistic that Ellana didn’t catch it at the time.

11. What’s a fanfic idea you haven’t done yet? 

There are so many that I will answer this again! I’ve always wanted to do a Solas Becomes A Middle School Teacher fic to have an ACCURATE portrayal of the teacher life for once. But also to make him suffer because he would be a college professor thinking that he would step down to enrich the bright young minds and inspire them before they become pessimistic adults in his college classes and instead got way more than he bargained for. Shay would be the teacher across the hall that helps him get through the year. Just think of moody, baby Inquisition members! Sera would be his worst student who made it a point to make him miserable until he connected with her on a real level and not a “I saw this in an inspirational movie once” level. He would have to deal with Varric’s alcoholic parents. Cassandra would be in trouble for fights all the time. It would be great.

[faerieavalon]

Sa’vunin - A Single Day

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Rating: N/A Pairings: Solas/Elvhen OC, Felassan/Elvhen OC, Solas & Felassan  Chapter 4:   Shesathem - Surprise

Note: italics are implied Elvhen speech. 

[Read on AO3]

The clouds at the edge of his perception flickered in warning before Felassan stepped through. He was late, as usual. Solas clasped his outstretched arm when he approached, drawing him close and pressing their foreheads together in greeting. A formality from their early years, it had grown habit over time. He smiled at his friend and waited for the report.

Felassan rattled off a list of names that sounded like breaking glass to Solas’ ears. They must be more of the Orlesian recruits. As the list and completed tasks were rattled on, Solas found his mind unable to focus. He kept nodding and making noises to encourage him to continue but his thoughts strayed back to the sounds of her laughter, the feel of her hair between his fingers, and the taste of her lips on his tongue.

“What has you so distracted, tar’fen?”

“Hmm?” Solas shook his head and attempted to come back to the conversation. “There are developments in the Inquisition that I find most curious. I apologize for my lack of attention. Please carry on.”

“Oh, I’d rather hear about you. Has the Inquisitor done something to change your plans?”

“No. In fact, he is working towards both goals splendidly on his own.”

“Is it his forces then? Do you need more agents in their ranks?”

“Not yet. Too many too soon will attract attention.”

“Are you well? Have they begun to suspect?”

“I am more than well. There are none that question my motives.”

He hated that he didn’t want to tell him. That he wanted to keep this just for himself a little longer. But no. Felassan knew everything. He could be trusted with this as well.

“There is a complication,” he spoke slowly, choosing his words with utmost care. “No. She is not simply -”

Felassan smiled as the image Solas twisted out of the Fade energies began to take shape.

“Oh, it’s a she?” He laughed. “She must be a special thing to turn your head.”

“She is exquisite of mind and body,” Solas shot back.

His lips twisted in displeasure but he kept working. He remembered her hair when it was loose, pulled from its braids by his own hands. It hung in soft waves down her back. Her lean curves he could still feel beneath his palms. His mind dressed her as she had appeared in her dream the first time they danced. The bright smile and playful glint in her eye drew his full attention away from his old friend. Last, and almost begrudgingly, the branches of Mythal’s claim appeared on her cheeks and chest.

When he turned, Solas expected to hear more teasing. What he didn’t expect was to see Felassan gaping at the near perfect image of Ara’lan. His old friend trembled as he approached, arms loose at his sides and jaw slack.

“She-” He was dead serious now. “What is her name?”

Solas frowned, equal parts curious and concerned. “Ara’lan.”

Felassan laughed again, a broken sound catching in his throat. “Oh? That’s cute.”

“I agree. Her name in our time was Era’las.”

The whimper that came out of Felassan struck him in the heart. His keening pain threw the calm ambiance of their shared dream state into turmoil. Solas flexed his fingers to reinforce the barriers.

“She, she’s alive.”

He turned to Solas, eyes brimming with tears and rushed at him to catch him in a hug. So caught off-guard, he allowed Felassan to lift him off his feet. Relief poured off him in waves that flowed with his near-hysterical laughter.

“She’s alive!”

He cleared his throat and Felassan set him back on his feet. The younger elf immediately went back to study the conjured image of Ara’lan. He walked in circles around her, still laughing under his breath. It was the most curious thing he had ever seen him do.

“I take it you know her?”

“I take it you know her,” he parroted and choked out another laugh through his flowing tears. “Oh yes. I thought I had lost her forever and of course she shows up now. She always had a knack for being in the right place at the right time. I didn’t think I would ever -”

Felassan cut off his own thoughts. He reached out a hand as if to cup her cheek but paused before his contact could disrupt the illusion. Hysteria faded away and a sharp longing played across his face.

“Where is she?” His voice shook but it was softer. “I need to see her.”

Solas clasped his hands behind his back and truly looked at his old friend. He had never seen the mercurial elf ever openly express such sentiment. This Ara’lan was something special indeed. A wry grin pulled at his lips.

“You will get your chance soon. The Inquisition has been invited to attend the Winter Ball and she has been asked to accompany us. She is safe, lethal’lin. We are in Skyhold and she has acclimated well to her surroundings.”

He caught himself unable to resist staring at her echo. A warmth blossomed in his chest. The gift she gave him hummed away beneath his skin, a pulsing daily reminder of how special she truly was.

“They are treating her kindly. Her spirit grows by the day. As do the people around her. She can not help but attract a following.” His smile softened. “She is magnificent.”

“She is,” Felassan agreed. He gave Solas a knowing smile. “How well have you gotten to know her exactly?”

Were they not in the Fade, he knew he would be blushing. Even so, he waited too long to find his answer. Felassan nodded and his smile fell away. He squared his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.

“How much does she know?”

“Enough,” Solas hedged. “I have told her who I am. She took it well. I will not cause her to worry about anything more just yet.”

“Be cautious, tar’fen,” Felassan growled in warning. “You are my isa'ma'lin and my tarlen but if you hurt her…”

Solas lifted an eyebrow, maintaining his calm. This was new. They had argued over many things in the past, some at great length. Never had Felassan openly threatened him before. Like the final piece sliding into a completed puzzle, realization dawned. This was a complication he didn’t expect.

“You love her,” he murmured.

“Yes.” Felassan admitted it without shame or pause.

“Ah.”

“Is that going to be a problem, tar’fen?”

Solas grimaced. He hated when Felassan called him that and he knew it. This was a big complication. If it came down to it, he would walk away. He wouldn’t fight his brother over a woman. Especially one with a heart such as hers. The path ahead of him was hard and this distraction, while pleasant and enriching to his soul, couldn’t steer his course.

“No. It will not. She is free to choose as she wills.”

Felassan relaxed and offered his hand again to seal the agreement. He took it gladly, hoping to put the strain behind them.

“You know,” Felassan whispered with a sly grin, “Were she to love us both, you know I’ll still be the pretty one.”

[obsidianarchives]

Slavery in Thedas: How BioWare Could Bring Nuance to Dragon Age

The Electronic Entertainment Expo (E3), video gaming’s most prominent trade show, has dimmed its lights and shuttered its doors until next June. One game that was conspicuously absent was the highly anticipated fourth installment of the Dragon Age franchise from EA-owned BioWare. This isn’t so surprising since a Kotaku article detailed the turmoil going on at BioWare that led to a truly abysmal reception for its latest game: their first try at an online loot-and-shoot adventure, Anthem.

Still, I must admit that I have thought about Dragon Age every day since The Game Awards of December 2018. That’s when BioWare dropped a 65-second teaser and launched a hashtag that had me hooting triumphantly in my living room, #TheDreadWolfRises. I even wrote an article about who from the past games should appear in the next.  

I have met some of my all-time favorite characters and gone on my most beloved adventures while traversing the carefully crafted world of Thedas (The Dragon Age Setting). A big part of that is due to the broader themes of how theocracy, colonization, and war affect the marginalized and enrich the powerful. 

Creating worlds

of adventure, conflict and companionship

that inspire you to become the hero of your story.

The statement above is only one of the many messages on BioWare’s website that highlight how much they value story and characters in their games. This attitude has served BioWare well. Its last unqualified success, single player RPG Dragon Age Inquisition, earned a whopping 130 Game of the Year Awards in 2015 and had professional critics specifically praising its story. 

Of course, not everyone has been impressed. BioWare frequently gets criticized by what I like to refer to as the “dude bro army” for daring to include PoVs that aren’t in lock step with the dominant culture. Read: “Y’all have too many queers, coloreds, and non-hot ladies in your games!” Back in 2011, the lead writer for the Dragon Age series at the time, David Gaider, wrote a response to one such gamer on their now-defunct message board that was so well crafted it garnered press. Gaider, an out gay man himself, challenged the notion that video games should cater to the fabled  “straight male gamer” that all such close-minded dude bros evoke when complaining about diversity. As a bi Black woman gamer, this endears BioWare to me even more. 

All is not perfect, however. In addition to sex and sexuality, racial oppression and hegemony are two frequently explored themes in Dragon Age games. There is an allegorical connection between the systemic and situational anti-elf sentiment found throughout Thedas and the anti-Black sentiment that runs rampant in our own world. The problem is that many of these experiences are written and crafted by folks who have never been on the receiving end of this kind of oppression. Although talent and empathy carry the stories surprisingly far, the devil is in the details.   

In fact, the usual formula of giving players the freedom to choose how they want to act allows for just as much conquest, haughty disinterest in ethical decision making, and even slave profiteering as opportunities to fight those evils. (I try not to think of how many players across the globe regularly sell elves to slavers for a few in-game bucks while I’m murdering every slaver that the game will allow.) 

This is why when another Kotaku article reported that a Dragon Age project set in Tevinter—the slave trade capital of Thedas—was scrapped, I didn’t share in the disappointment that bubbled throughout fandom. Quite frankly, I was relieved. I unfortunately don’t see BioWare being able to craft a story taking place in Tevinter in a way that won’t be chock full of obliviousness, microaggressions, and straight up triggers for Black players. 

How can I think this way about one of my favorite game franchises of all time, you ask? Well, in Inquisition, it was not only possible, but extremely easy for someone playing as an elf to make a mistake and wipe out their entire clan while assigning missions on the war table. Because this process takes place over multiple in-game decisions and hours of gameplay, there was no way to go back and fix it. What’s more, no one even acknowledges that it happened in the game.  

To be fair, the developers admitted that this was a problem, but saw it more as a design faux pas akin to other similar war table missions that went awry. To me, it resounded particularly loud to see an oppressed people who were frequently set upon by aggressive humans get extinguished like a flame all due to my actions. What’s more is that this is my Inquisitor’s family and the only society she’d known until the beginning of the game. To say it jettisoned me out of the heroic role play fantasy for a while would be an understatement. 

Later in the “Jaws of Hakkon” mission, when it is revealed the first Inquisitor was also an elf but the chantry (church) scrubbed all records of this from history, the game similarly ignores the profound implications this would have for an elven Inquisitor. I have spent my whole adult life trying to sankofa (go back and fetch) all the history of my people that has been deliberately obscured or warped by a western school system. This connected to my life in a way that was never even partially explored in the game. 

Other ways a few high ranking Black developers could have helped BioWare is with Dorian. Sure, he’s one of their most dynamic, fun, and charismatic characters in Inquisition. But he’s also an unrepentant slave owner who, even late in the game, vacillates between vacuously apologizing to Solas for Tevinter’s fabled domination of Elvhenan and encouraging the annoyed elf to enslave spirits to do his bidding.

And then there’s Vivienne, the one character designed as a Black woman. Look, I’m not suggesting that tough as nails, power enthusiast Vivienne should’ve dropped her unfriendly Black hottie status and held hands with everyone. But how much more nuanced and mindful would Vivienne’s characterization have been in the hands of a Black woman who has spent her academic and professional career modulating her voice and carefully curating her demeanor to avoid the scarlet letter of being dubbed “angry” or “difficult”? What made “The Iron Lady” into the cold, calculated defender of the status quo? The horrors and indignities she must have faced in the Ostwick Mage Circle that led her to create her impregnable persona are never even hinted at.

Furthermore, Vivienne is immediately and permanently pit against the most lovable character in the game, Cole. No one in the game seems to understand her position. She is a Circle mage that was taught to mistrust and fear demons before she was able to read. Of course she’s scared to death of Cole! Instead, the game just casts her as an irrational bigot and a danger to ‘innocent’ Cole, a being that even admits he is potentially quite dangerous.

And that's not to mention Sera's internalized elven racism and self-hatred that could have used more nuanced handling from someone of a community that deals with such things.

I just…Hire some Black writers and developers, BioWare. 

That way when you explore these themes common to our experience there will be a level of authenticity Black players can appreciate and identify with immediately while non-Black players get to enjoy a narrative shaped by people with a deeper connection to the subject matter. Having multiple queer writers helped the sexuality content immensely; it’s time to do the same for the racial commentary.

Patrick Weekes, the current lead writer for the Dragon Age series is an immense talent. He wrote my favorite character in the entire franchise, The Iron Bull, and two others in my top 10, Cole and Solas. I have no doubt that he and his team will create an incredible yarn, but if BioWare wants to level up and reclaim their former glory after their last few games have struggled, leaving their brand a bit tarnished, they are going to have to evolve and invest in more diverse, authentic voices.

[roseategales]

100(ISH) WORDS A DAY CHALLENGE: NOVEMBER 2019 — DAY ELEVEN TO TWENTY-FOUR: WHISPER, BITTERSWEET.

rating: explicit. | categories: smut, modern au. | pairing: solavellan. | content warnings: mentions of alcohol. | word count: 2.2k.

previous days: day one. | day two. | day three. | day four. | day five. | day six. | day seven. | day eight. | day nine. | day ten.

author’s notes: idk what i’m doing. is that new tho? this wasn’t supposed to be uhhhh this long or take up two weeks afashfgsas oh well. i may actually end up using this an outline and turn it into a three chapter fic somewhere down the line, with more detail. i have Ideas.

                                                                              The main venue for tonight’s date is provided courtesy of Josephine.

Spare tickets for a new musical at one of Grande Royeaux’s theatres were given to her by an acquaintance hoping for good graces, and, as she had prior engagements, she passed them to Eludysia to do with as she pleases. It’s another modern retelling of Andraste’s rebellion against Tevinter, focused on her early life and the beginnings of the war she fought. The mythos is thoroughly known throughout Thedas of course. A centerpiece of faith and nations, it’s the subject of innumerable non-fiction and fictionalised works of controversy, so Eludysia had little inclination in carving out time to see it. But it has been weeks since she and Solas last had a night out together, and critics and audiences have raised this one to acclaim; thus, she has persuaded him and they are meeting tonight.

She wears a dress that flows to floor-length, with an asymmetrical neckline and a slit along her left leg, the shade of myrtle leaves. Her hair is bound into a simple side-braid, her makeup done with a subtle hand. Her heels and matching clutch-purse are an off-white colour. The overall effect is one that satisfies—and, she anticipates, is prepared well for the evening.

The show is at eight. In midnight black suit and tie, he picks her up at exactly six. It gives them enough time to have dinner and conversation at a restaurant nearby the theatre. They talk about the usual things: the current affairs of the city, her cases and their successes, his classes and the books he’s read, the new discoveries of the lost Elvhen empire. He tells her she looks beautiful. She jokes that he should wear a suit more often. His hand brushes her palm and she holds it. Their reconnection is natural. Smooth as the dark red wine which fills their glasses and they raise a toast to.

They arrive at the theatre on time to be seated. An usher escorts them to a private box for two, at the side of the stage. Soon, the seats below them are filled, to the very last one. And then the lights fade out. Applause follows. The play begins.

For the next half hour, they relive the times of old through the music of their own day. The tragedy of the story should be dissonant with the vibrancy of the beat, but the presented narrative is instead enriched. It’s something to be appreciated.

By Eludysia’s asking, Solas gives commentary on the historical inaccuracies and creative liberties taken. She’d be lying if she said she doesn’t prefer the deep baritone of his voice to the cast’s, talented though they are. In exchange, he asks for her thoughts. Their seats are side by side, close enough they are still be audible to each other over the orchestra. It’s close enough for their knees to touch, and for their hands to find each other’s after each applause break.

After half an hour, Solas’ hand doesn’t return to Eludysia’s. It drifts.

At first, his placement of it is innocuous—right above where her knee meets his. But then, his fingers trail a line. His touch whisper light, they wander up and up, across the skin bared by the opening of her dress’ slit, up toward her thigh. And he shifts the fabric.

Her breath hitches, of its own accord.

Solas hasn’t even begun.

She glances from the stage—where Andraste’s actress is delivering a conflicted soliloquy on her marriage to Maferath—to where his fingertips trace the curve of her thigh, back and forth. As if awaiting a decision. “Solas… What are you doing?” She asks, like she is unaware of his intent. Like she has to read his expression to glean it.

“I’m observing the show, vhenan,” he says, as if it’s obvious. He toys with her hem, but tenderness rests on his features. “Is there a problem?”

He’s offering an out. Affirming what she wants. One word from her, and he would stop. He wouldn’t question her. If she expressed any discomfort, he would let her push him away to undo it. The night could pass by without incident, and he’d bring her back to her apartment.

His concern cuts at her heart. She loves him. She does.

But the desire for this is mutual. She craves for it as much as he. So, “not at all,” she says, with a sweetened smile.

A smirk lurks at the corner of Solas’ mouth. His ivory hand dips beneath green.

He has knowledge on just how to unravel her seams, in both contexts of speech and touch. That may be the most dangerous part. She adjusts herself to help him push aside the fabric of her underwear, and his fingers are expert; he skims her inner thigh, teases at her folds, strokes slow circles around her clit, effortless. He does it all without looking directly at her, his attention still seemingly on the reenactment of the politics of the Alamarri border to an outsider’s eye. But while she tries to steady her gaze on the same, she grows wet and wanting. Her posture slackens to allow him better access. He slides a finger inside her, two, and she has to bite her lower lip to cage her gasps and moans as her hips seek and seek more and more of him.

He summons a tension Eludysia is driven to chase. She bucks forward, and he evades. She quickens her pace, and he delays his. The discordance of their rhythm is deliberate. It turns her frustrated and impelled to grasp for the cuff of his sleeve to synchronise their movements.

It’s a mistake. He withdraws.

She has to clamp her hand over mouth, muffling a scream of his name.

Distantly, as her head rests on the seat, she realises he’s remarking on the musical.

“…how vital Shartan’s role was in the rebellion. It is refreshing to see it recognised,” breaks through the drumming of the music—through her wild, erratic pulse—Solas’ tone somehow casually academic. He looks at her, wearing a spurious innocence, expectant. “Don’t you think so?”

Breathless, she laughs.

“I think…” What does she think? The only roles she cares about now are the ones she and Solas play. She is feverish, restless. The set of the theatre is reduced to a two-dimensional backdrop, fallen away and out of focus. The script’s pages are lost. She resolves to rewrite. “I think you’re enjoying this too much.”

Solas follows. “I always enjoy giving you what you want, vhenan,” he says, placing a soft kiss behind her ear. “In due time.”

He returns a long, slender finger to hover and drag along her sex. She writhes. The high ceiling is less dizzying to stare at than the stage lights and her mind.

For a fraction of a second, Eludysia weighs a plea on her tongue. Solas might relent. It’d be easy and she’d be satiated. But it occurs to her that if he keeps her on a precipice, there is a chance he will not. And she is rarely one who begs for leniency. If it’s a struggle he hopes for, it’s a struggle he will get. “How long?” she asks, for she has knowledge on Solas too.

He chuckles, shakes his head at her. Rubs patterns on her thigh to soothe. “Be patient.”

“No, no, I meant—” She wets her lips and considers him, and her laugh is of daring impulse. “—how long, do you suppose, until I can touch you the way you’re touching me now?” She ventures and leans toward him, cloying, promising. “How long until your cock will be stroked by my hands, my—”

His thumb presses her clit. Her legs squeeze and her hand flies to her mouth.

“Lest you forget,” Solas warns, the storm-grey of his eyes darkening. He parts her legs; fully revealing the left and more. The way her skirt drapes over her now is almost precarious. “I still have an advantage.”

A whimper escapes her, unhidden. She grips at the edge of her seat to rein herself. “You said you enjoy giving me what I want.”

“Unless what you want is to incite me any more than you have. That will not end well.”

She doesn’t give up. “Why? Will you bend me over and fuck me—”

“Eludysia!”

The thrust of his fingers is as sudden as his hiss. Thought is abandoned and she jolts and buries her face into his shoulder. He moves faster and deeper this time, a furor, that spurs her on and on and on until she is trembling around and beside him, smothering her keens and sobs as pressure builds, pushes her to the edge. She maintains her grip on the seat, knuckles whitening. Her hips press against him, her legs squeeze to snatch him there. Her insides are molten and the sought for high nears—

And Solas retreats again.

Strings of Elven curses tumble from her lips onto his sleeve.

Regretful, Solas calms her. His breathing is irregular, as is hers. The hand working her goes back to gently caressing her thigh, the other cradles the back of her head. He kisses the top of her hair, mumbling an apology, and ascertains if she’s all right. She collects what she has of her strength to nod and articulate an apology as well, in spite of her wound up state, and encircles his arm with hers to reassure.

There’s a sliver of Eludysia still conscious of their surroundings, the possible consequences of their actions; muted in the obscene but present. Applause is heard, a break before the next song. What would happen, if someone were to sight how she and Solas hold each other? She is ragged, covered in a sheen of sweat and her skirt askew. He is stiff and strained, fingers glistening from her slick. The balcony’s marble enclosure hides their misdemeanor, but not their unbelonging embrace.

She draws back, glances at the silhouette of the audience, then at him. “Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?” It’s a genuine question, apart from tricks and tactics. Absurdity underlines their situation like crimson ink. A portrayal of a battleground is just downstairs, and here they are, irreverent, above, with one of their own. All it would take is a slip of her voice, or for someone to look up, or for intermission to arrive. And yet, they go on.

“I calculate my risks,” Solas says, pausing his ministrations to pull at her skirt’s fabric so she is less exposed. He regards her appearance, her visage. “Not unlike you.”

Eludysia can’t help but smirk. “Referring to the dress, or?”

“You had your suspicions on how I’d respond if you chose it, didn’t you?” he sighs and stills, the statement coarsened. “Like you how you had suspicions on how I’d attempt to silence you if you stirred my fantasies.”

“Well,” she says, eyes bright as the purest emeralds, “I enjoy giving you what you like, too.”

“The games we play should frighten us,” he observes, his mouth forming a grim line.

“They would—if we weren’t aware of what we were getting ourselves into.”

“We aren’t always.”

“We’ll work on that,” she promises, and tugs on his arm. Her body is still as sensitive as a livewire, but her words are tender. Earnest.

Solas hums, and he allows himself a smile and the approval. The hand in Eludysia’s hair moves to tip her chin up, closer. “Perhaps you’ll stay quiet, then?”

It’s her turn, now, to shake her head at him. “One day, ma’lath,” she says, with a lilting affection, “you will tire of your need for restraint.”

“Ma vhenan,” he chokes, the endearment a bittersweet sound. Behind his lust, his delectation, his solicitude, is an unnameable despair. He sets it before her and indulges, “that day came when I fell in love with you.”

And so he kisses her roughly. A lash of hunger upon her, his mouth and nipping teeth inflict silken heat, his fingers finding her sex to delve in once more, so she gasps and his tongue can steal its way to entangle with hers. He conducts a new, headier rhythm, strikes in and out in concert with her need, how her hips rise and buck and pursue. He takes her moans, he takes her breath. Her nerves sing, burn, pulse. She becomes lightheaded and begins to seize as he finally, finally delivers unto her a delirium. She pushes away for air, but he keeps a vice-like grasp by the nape of her neck so their lips and her cresting cry remain sealed and secret.

There is a beautiful irony in the paradoxical act; what is meant to restrain is itself a surrender. What should conflict is inseparable. Where does one end and the other emerge?

As Solas releases Eludysia and rights her, she lets her head lay on his shoulder. He doesn’t protest. Oxygen floods her lungs, and in the equilibrium of weightlessness and the sense of gravity, a line from the Chant of Light rings crystalline: —a vision of all worlds, waking and slumbering / spirit and mortal to me appeared.

They don’t wait for intermission. He takes her home. Her dress is ripped, discarded on his bedroom floor with the rest of their clothes. She makes good on her word, strokes him with her hands, her mouth. He then has his way with her; marks her skin like she could eternally be his own. Like they’ll be all right. And together, they relish in their sounds and avowals of love saturating the room through and through.

He doesn’t know Eludysia wakes in the middle of the night to wonder at the profoundness of him and his confession, as she’d done months ago when he came to her door.

[meredoubt]

you know i love Anders (despite his character flaws), but him finally having to confront Tevinter’s slavery. Seeing where Justice is. having a narrative that actually respects the danger Fenris and Merrill (and why Merrill would have an advantage over Fenris) would be in, but acknowledging how brave they’d be to go. SEEING ACTUAL ADMIRAL ISABELA. Hawke missing their best friend (and I’m not convinced Hawke could go, let alone Varric). Hearing more about the fighting between Aveline and Sebastian...

Dragon Age 2 has the best cast in the franchise. And all you know about them, like the best parts of Mass Effect, would enrich every interaction. But because the cast is, categorically, fuck ups, they would still be the underdogs to Solas, to Tevinter, to Par Vollen (don’t get me STARTED on this cast caught up with the Qunari again. fuck.)

[swhurtcomfort]

Fall Apart, Fall Together --- Chapter 5

Chapter 4      AO3

.......................

While Obi-Wan meditates, grappling with the Force for a clue as to Anakin’s whereabouts, Padmé takes matters into her own hands. She digs up the visitor log from her own medical file and finds the identity of the person who dropped off the note for Anakin. A quick holonet search informs her that it is one of the Chancellor’s personal assistants. There’s no doubt in her mind that that’s where Anakin has gone.

“Come on!”

She drags Obi-Wan by the wrist, startling him out of his trance.

They arrive at the Senate complex, running past the sounds of ambulance speeders in the street.

Padmé heads straight for the commotion in front of the main entrance to try to see what happened. Obi-Wan follows, scrunching up his face as if it were too loud.

“Padmé,” he says, his voice strained in a way that scares her. “He’s inside. And he’s in pain. I—”

Obi-Wan breathes in sharply. The color starts to drain from his face.

“What, Obi-Wan?” Padmé demands. He doesn’t answer. “Screw it, just come on then, I know a back way in.”

Obi-Wan allows himself to be led along, holding his head. Padmé takes them around a corner and uses her access chip to open a side door

Once inside, Obi-Wan slumps back against the wall, grimacing.

“Are you ill? Is it some kind of Force thing?”

“The fourth floor,” he chokes out. “Go, hurry,”

He looks like he’s in pain. He’d said Anakin was too. Padmé promises to return soon with Anakin, then hurries towards the lift.

On the fourth floor, the hair on Padmé’s arms starts to stand up. She wishes suddenly that she’d brought her blaster. Then, just as quickly, she is thankful that she didn’t.

It isn’t hard to find Anakin. He is waiting by another lift, wobbling impatiently on the balls of his feet. He doesn’t appear to be suffering as Obi-Wan was. When he hears her approach, he turns stiffly, and Padmé’s blood runs cold.

“Ani!”

“Padmé,” he says in a low voice. He accepts her hands into his. “E-Everything is going to be alright now.” He doesn’t sound sure.

“Yes,” she says. “It is. Ani, let’s go somewhere far away from here.”

“No. Masters Windu and Fisto are upstairs. They’re going to arrest the Chancellor.”

Padmé freezes, caught off guard. “On what charges?” Anakin doesn’t answer. “What do you know?!”

The lift opens, and he steps inside. “Wait for me here.”

“No.” Padmé throws her arm across the automatic doors so they won’t close. “Ani, are you going up there to help them, or stop them?”

He trembles, jamming the door-close button even though it’s futile. “I-I don’t know.”

“Anakin, don’t be rash,” says Padmé. “The Jedi Council is…often misinformed, but they aren’t dictators.”

Anakin takes a small step towards the platform. Padmé needs to get him out of that lift. She continues, “Whatever’s going on, we can entrust to the republic. To justice.”

“I’ve had enough of the Jedi Council’s justice!” he spits. Just for a moment, a strange light flickers across his eyes.

“What do you mean? Obi-Wan wants you to speak with them tomorrow, he said he thinks he can reason with them on your behalf. You’re lucky to have an ally—”

Anakin’s eyes flicker again, decidedly yellow this time with renewed rage when she says his name. “Obi-Wan was in favor of what they’ve done to me—”

“What have they done?” Padmé asks. “And what do they think the Chancellor has done?”

“—and I didn’t see him sticking his neck out for Snips, either did you?”

Padmé shakes her head. On that they can agree. “He wants to help us, Ani. Something is happening, something in the Force and it’s hurting him. Is it hurting you too? Is it Dark?”

Anakin steps out of the lift onto the platform, holding Padmé’s hand. But he looks back over his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter. I need Palpatine’s help—it doesn’t matter what he is. That’s how we’re going to save the babies.”

“They don’t need saving,” says Padmé. “And neither do we.” She lets go of the doors, and lets the lift shoot upwards without them.

……

Bail gives Padmé the full story, but even if he hadn’t, it’s all over the holonews. Three Jedi died in the Senate complex that day, and a fourth—Windu, according to most sources—is under investigation for his role in the Chancellor’s death. Most believe he will be held guiltless, security tapes clearly showing his actions to have been in self-defense.

Obi-Wan had recovered his faculties by the time Anakin had made up his mind, and rushed to help an injured Windu to the Jedi Healers while Anakin and Padmé slipped off unnoticed. There are rumors that Obi-Wan and the 212th were almost immediately sent off-planet again. Bail’s informants can’t agree on where they have gone—at least, until a new story breaks and the holo footage of him discharging a blaster neatly into Grevious’s heart is playing on every channel, practically on loop.

The galaxy is in tatters. The tide of the war has turned on a dime, and the majority of its citizens don’t understand why.

Several days later, Obi-Wan finds his way back to the medcenter. Padmé supposes it was inevitable.

“Are you ever going to pick up your comm, Anakin?” he asks, entering the room without waiting to be invited.

“Depends who’s calling,” Anakin retorts.

“They’ve grown quite a bit,” Obi-Wan gestures to Luke, lying on his stomach on Anakin’s bare shoulder.

“That’s what babies do.”

They lapse into uncomfortable silence.

“The Council…” Obi-wan begins, and Anakin stiffens. He soldiers on. “The Council wants to commend you for finding the Sith, Anakin. There will be no more talk of disciplinary action for any breach of the Code that might have occurred. It is an invitation, no questions asked.”

Anakin lifts his gaze, almost daring to hope. But he sees Obi-Wan watching him hold his infant son, and he knows it isn’t going to be that easy.

“They are my family,” he says simply.

“The Jedi are our family,” Obi-Wan counters, a note of frustration slipping through his façade.

“What do they want me to do, abandon them?”

“Arrangements can be made to ensure that Padmé and the twins are comfortable. You would do best to formally request not to be assigned to any more missions in the Senate, moving forward.”

When Anakin doesn’t immediately respond Obi-Wan continues, “And in a few years, if Padmé wishes them to be raised in the crèche, I’m sure the Order will be enriched by their talents, but you will limit your contact. Or at least be inconspicuous about it. Attachments fade, Anakin. I know it is painful.”

Bitterness wells up in Anakin. He wants to have it both ways, but he knows he can’t – Obi-Wan doesn’t have to be so obtuse. Luke starts to cry.

“You say you know, but have you ever found something worth leaving for? Do you know what that feels like?”

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “There have been times…but I was wrong, Anakin. There have been times I’ve considered it—wanted it desperately, but I have always chosen the Order.”

“I guess we can’t all be perfect Jedi.”

“Anakin,” says Obi-Wan, tears brimming in his eyes. “You are a fine Jedi—”

“Not anymore,” he says quietly. "I can't be, and I don't want to be." There is a different path before him now. He braces himself for the incoming lecture, but there is no anger flowing from Obi-Wan’s Force presence, only deep sorrow.

“Then you are lost,” says Obi-Wan.

Anakin turns to hand the sobbing Luke to a nurse, because his own hands won’t stop trembling. 

Obi-Wan slowly pulls two objects from within the folds of his cloak and leaves them on a table before he turns to leave, averting his gaze. They’re two little beanbag toys in the shape of tiny bantha.

Anakin shuts himself in a closet and allows himself to break down in angry tears.

……

The war is over. They have a chance to breathe, and a chance to grieve.

Anakin’s sleep is deep and dreamless these days, but he lies awake wrestling with questions, and with choices. Wonders if it’s okay to miss Obi-Wan and be so unfathomably angry with him at the same time. Wonders whether it’s okay that he kind of misses Palpatine. He misses the idea of a benevolent grandfatherly confidant, even if the logical part of his brain understands that that person never existed—that Sheev Palpatine was always Sidious in masquerade. Wonders how it could have all gone differently.

Padmé is quickly realizing how many complicated questions this shift has created, and she’s itching to do something about them. Bail is heading up a subcommittee on the legal rights and future settlement of the clone troopers, Mon is appointed interim Chancellor and hard at work organizing a referendum, and Padmé hears news from Sola about sticky situation of filling Palpatine’s seat back on Naboo. But there are also more pressing concerns, starting with her own health. The first month of the babies’ lives has been so regimented and clinical, Padmé and Anakin both mourn the loss of all the ‘normal’ rituals of new parenthood. But the medcenter staff encourage them to be as involved as possible in feeding and changing and caring for the twins. They hold them whenever they can, and read and sing to them when they can’t.

The day finally comes that the little family is ready to leave for Naboo. They do so in a free galaxy.

Padmé has been watching Anakin all morning. She knows he is hoping Obi-Wan might come to see them off, but privately she wishes he wouldn’t get his hopes up.

“You’ve checked the transport half a dozen times, love. Come sit down.”

Anakin sinks down into the seat next to hers. The babies are sleeping, buckled safely into their seats.

Padmé takes his hand and squeezes it. He sighs and kisses the top of her head.

...

Go to Chapter 6

[outlivings]

❤️

mutual compliment meme | @theharellan​ | always accepting

oh my god….. i’ve literally been following you for Years. like, before i even joined darp skdfjhksdj i followed on my personal blog around the time dai hype was still bumping and solas interested me as a character (he still does but u get what i mean)

in all the times since i made my first rp blog here i’d go out of my way to make sure i followed you again. your solas is so authentic to his character in the game, yet you add these original twists that enrich him even more! i’m so happy you’ve kept up with him longer than most do with Any muse. the world will end and tas will still be killing it with solas lmao

please keep blessing us with your writing and headcanons, you do him such a great service!!