#solas is holding this shit up on his ancient ass back

[muutos]

me going to the crossroads to meet morrigan: they didn't absolutely botch her character, right? vg: ... me: right?!

[misculenica]

Dirthamen & Fen'Harel

I've been doing a lot of speculation lately on DA:Dreadwolf, and I just want to take a break from it by going back and thinking about the evanuris; the cause of all this shit. Specifically, my favourite of the elvhen pantheon; Dirthamen - god of secrets, and how he relates to my favourite problematic love interest; Solas.

What we know of Dirthamen is rather little.

We know he was believed to be a god of secrets and knowledge, who took his secrets very seriously. He conquered to spirits/concepts in the form of ravens (metaphorical or not) called Fear and Deceit. He was the 'brother' or 'twin soul' of Falon'Din; god of death and guide to the souls of the dead (according to elven legend, at least). He and Falon'Din were close, from what we can gather, though it is uncertain whether or not they were brothers. Though some suspect that they were the same entity, occupying the same body- by way of a spirit possessing a host, or, some form of 'split personality' - I find this interesting, but I'm not here to discuss Falon'Din, or the relationship he had with Dirthamen; I'm here to discuss the relationship between Dirthamen and Fen'Harel.

Fen'Harel; the Dread Wolf, He Who Hunts Alone, the Lord of Tricksters, the Great Wolf, Roamer of the Beyond, Pride/Solas (wisdom?). The elven god of betrayal or rebellion. Solas, it's just Solas, we know what's up with him.

I find it curious how Fen'Harel and Dirthamen orbit a similar spheres of 'divine' influence; deceit, knowledge, trickery, secrets. I imagine Dirthamen being the keeper of secrets and knowledge are rather odd things to be a god of; what is a secret and piece of knowledge but something that can be used (or locked away forever - keep this in mind). I would argue he was more of a spymaster - like Leliana, but good at it - especially given that the gods are not truly gods, but powerful mages who were once great generals. I imagine a sort of Petyr Baelish from ASOIAF, but with a qualitative, fuckton of magical power along with his 6-dimensional chess brain. But considering this; wouldn't we regard Fen'Harel/Solas as the sneaky one of the elven 'gods'? He does an excellent job of cultivating lore, knowledge and lost secrets that few else hold. It just sounds peculiarly similar to me.

Now, I am not saying Fen'Harel/Solas and Dirthamen are the same person, but they are similar in many regards.

I believe they were likely friends before.... Well, before shit hit the fan, so to speak. Perhaps rivals, but I like to believe it wasn't necessarily a rivalry fuelled by hatred. Like, when you see another person on the track and you just know you can run a bit faster or longer than them, though you wouldn't want them to stop altogether, that would ruin it for both of you. Friendly, perhaps spiteful, rivalry, then? Yes, I'm pulling this out of my ass (absolutely for fanfiction reasons, and fun).

Please consider that Dirthamen is known as the keeper of secrets and knowledge, and Fen'Harel/Solas is a pursuer of knowledge and lost/forgotten lore (or secrets). I find that very, very curious. I imagine they operated differently; allow me to elaborate.

Why is this relevant? Well...

I believe in this (we know to be quite reliable, as it's information from the ancient elves themselves) being some multi-dimensional chess move by Dirthamen. The sinner belonged to Dirthamen, so why would Ghilan'nain urge a slave to do something that was considered 'high treason'? We know that Dirthamen created the Varterral, and Ghilan'nain created a great many creatures, so perhaps they were quite close, or shared notes on the creation of weird looking creatures. Why would Ghilan'nain urge a slave to take the form of (presumably a dragon, a form reserved for the gods and their high priests)? I don't think she would do it of her own volition, it feels very... Out of place for her - why would she urge one of Dirthamen's slaves to do something that will get him punished/killed, and likely get her in trouble with the other Evanuris for telling him to do it - and even then, why would she want some random slave to become a dragon when the consequences seem so obvious. Unless...This will sound out there, but what if Dirthamen was plotting something with this, and used Ghilan'nain to cover his tracks? Why would he be plotting?

The slave begged protection from Mythal, who is the most known among the gods for caring for and being protective of her people. But she didn't, she didn't show him favor - she let Elgar'Nan judge the slave. Why would Dirthamen not judge the slave, if he belongs to Dirthamen? Dirthamen is a keeper of secrets and knowledge, and I feel like he would know if one of his own was doing something (like becoming a fucking dragon, at the urging of another god, no less). What if the goal of this was to test the other Evanuris and what they would do if a slave (or bunch of slaves) took the form of 'the divine' (I imagine they somewhat revered/respected the dragons and their power/strength to regard them so highly, so that would suggest they are powerful... Powerful enough, to possibly challenge the other gods?).

We know that the gods did get uppity, rivalling one another at times, as the example of Falon'Din and how he started wars to gain more followers, and the other gods (particularly Mythal) had to rally together to stop him only when he started invading the other god's lands. So we know that it happened. What this tells us, along with Andruil and whatever plague she brought upon her lands, is that the gods don't care what happened within each other's spheres/realms of influence/lands, unless it challenges their own authority. Though I will bring up why this is relevant to Dirthamen and Fen'Harel's relationship later.

Back to the sinner/slave; what if it was to directly challenge Mythal? Why would the slave not ask for his own god/patron to judge him? Why specifically Mythal - the goddess who is best known for taking the form of a dragon (and from what we gather in the games, does not seem inclined to share the knowledge of that form with others)? I suspect, Dirthamen told Ghilan'nain to do all this, or perhaps... Tricked her into getting the slave to do all this, so to keep himself from the other god's ire/suspicion? All eyes would be on Ghilan'nain, surely. And the worst Dirthamen has to deal with is seeming incompetent for not being able to keep his own people in check (kind of perfect, if your goal is to get people to lack confidence in your ability/underestimate how well you do have your people in control). But why did Mythal not judge him? She was the go-to for judgement/justice within the pantheon, it was practically her realm of jurisdiction. She gave him to Elgar'nan to judge, and we can only assume Elgar'nan just fucking eviscerated him- given his reputation (Mythal must have know the slave would be killed, it was essentially a death sentence to hand him over to Elgar'nan; it's like a big 'oh, okay, alright, yeah put that in the 'I don't care' pile'). Let's consider what would have happened if the Mythal protected him; she would have been defying the rules (the slave had committed a massive sin), picking favourites, and it wasn't her slave to begin with. If she thought the slave was committing some atrocity/sin, surely she would have killed/judged him herself? So why didn't she? It would have been undermining Dirthamen's power/authority, and perhaps it would have looked really bad for her to personally judge/kill a slave who had begged for her protection? So she hands it over to Elgar'nan, the father of the pantheon, the big daddy, the chief, the Don. Nobody would question him doing shit.

So I imagine the goal of this was to sow dissent/mistrust between the gods. I imagine Elgar'nan was annoyed at the slave, annoyed at Mythal for not dealing with it personally (when it's her sphere of influence to pass judgements), annoyed at Ghilan'nain for making this all happen, and everyone else is likely annoyed at one another for the fact this could happen, a lack of trust in one another has been sown. Mythal purposefully shirked her duty, Ghilan'nain purposefully provoked this into happening, and all that Dirthamen can be accused of is being a bit ignorant/blindsided (I don't know, I just think it's genius if he did this with the intent of being a sneaky bastard who nobody thinks is as good as he claims to be). Unless Fen'Harel had a part in this somehow, I do smell the faint whiff of suspicious shit, but I couldn't say.

Back to the thing about what Solas says concerning the gods challenging one another's realms/lands. At the Temple of Mythal, Solas remarks on Falon'Din's vanity, and how he would crave adulation to the point of murdering anyone who doesn't show enough reverence for him, and starting whole wars just to gain more followers (going so far as to invading the lands of the other Evanuris). But I find it odd how he doesn't mention Dirthamen, given that he seems to know them all personally, and would know that Falon'Din and Dirthamen are 'inseparable'. So the lack of mentioning says to me that Dirthamen was not like his brother, and from what I'm guessed above; it seems Dirthamen was subtle, he perhaps wasn't vain, but he was certainly not without motives, or getting others in to trouble, and avoiding it himself. He didn't start big, noisy 'I'm going to come get you' wars. He got others to do things, and keep himself out of trouble. He was clever, and he knew things others did not, and he knew just what to do to get others to act.

Who does that sound like? Hmmmmm.

I also find it worthy to note that Dirthamen's Wisdom was a literal shield, some lost item of great significant (at the Temple of Dirthamen). His wisdom was a shield, think about that. Something to block attacks, to avoid being hit, perhaps knock someone back. He was smart and he knew how to use his smarts on the battlefield. Shields are awful on the battlefield; they're big, bulky, heavy, almost impractical unless you're using tactics like shield walls, or are facing a single opponent using something useless like a bow (or magic). They had their uses, it's just an unusual item for a mage god-king as seemingly his lasting legacy. It's a defensive piece of equipment, not really offensive unless someone's right up in your face - and I think that says a lot about him (more than some multiple paragraph tinfoil hat rambling about how Dirthamen is a master manipulator because a slave became a dragon).

I would also like to point out that you find Dirthamen's Wisdom in a box with this symbol on it;

And then this;

As far as I know, these are the only 2 instances of this symbol (please prove me wrong); Dirthamen's Wisdom container, and Temple of Mythal Fen'Harel statue.

Dirthamen and Fen'Harel/Solas are remarkably similar. Both like others to do their dirty work for them, both seems exceptionally clever, and employ underhanded tactics, both avoid the offensive position when it comes to fighting, and both are pursuers and keepers of knowledge. I refuse to believe they didn't at least respect one another, if not, had some sort of... (don't say rivalmance, don't say- fuck) rival... friendship (perhaps not quite friendship? Like... rivals, but not in the 'i will kill you' kind of way. Like, you bring out one another's best side -best side being their talents- and there's a kind of comfort in seeing part of yourself in another, especially if it's a part you pride yourself on).

And this is just for extra fun;

Dirthamen is heavily associated with ravens (fear & deceit). Fen'Harel is associated with a wolf (being the Dread Wolf).

Wolves and ravens have a very close/friendly and symbiotic relationship; raven's are typically scavengers, and rely on larger predators to provide their meals for them. The closest relationship they have (rather famously) is the wolf; being known in some cultures as wolf-birds. Ravens will attract wolves to carrion, who will remove the tough hide and bone, to get to the 'good parts', meanwhile they will watch over the wolves eating to warn them of other predators. Wolves and ravens also engage in play, yes you heard me, ravens have been documented throwing sticks to wolves and engaging in tug-of-war with pups.

I really like Dirthamen. I hope we get more on him in the next game (let the Evanuris rise again!)

[lavellander]

hello im feeling extra “touch the stove”-y today so. i was looking for any dialogue where solas just straight up lies and (of what i could find online/transcribed, obv) i didnt find anything that was 100% untrue. he’ll completely avoid the question, change the subject, give part of the truth, etc etc etc, but nothing was just Entirely A Lie

what really gets me is that there’s a handful of convos where someone infers something from what solas says, and he will even point out that he didn’t directly say that. like, he tells people how to see through his shit, lmao

here is an embarrassingly long ass list of examples, all sorted by what kind of not-lying he’s doing lol, just bc i am unhinged<3

*note that some of these are cut from longer bits of dialogue or have been split up from one conversation into different categories*

literally just Not Answering The Question lol

Dorian: How much “will” do they have? They’re amorphous constructs of the Fade. Solas: Hmm.

Dorian: Solas, have I offended you? Solas: If you have, why would it concern you?

Dorian: Solas, what is this whole look of yours about? Solas: I’m sorry? Dorian: No, that outfit is sorry. What are you supposed to be, some kind of woodsman? Dorian: Is it a Dalish thing? Don’t you dislike the Dalish? Or is it some kind of statement? Solas: No.

Dorian: Let me get this straight, Solas. Dorian: You’re an apostate – neither Dalish nor city elf – who lived alone in the woods studying spirits. Solas: Is that a problem for you?

Solas: [has a whole tactical moment about the red jennies lmao] Sera: Where d’you get all this, then? Solas: Do you wish to be unnerved by another tale of my explorations of the Fade? Or do you wish to learn something?

Vivienne: You must be pleased with what was revealed at the Temple of Mythal, Solas. Solas: Why should those ruins please me, Enchanter?

changing the subject before he backs himself into a corner

Gatt: I don’t see any tattoos, but you’re carrying a staff. Are you from a Chantry Circle? Solas: No. And I would prefer not to discuss it.

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing. Varric: What’s so confusing about endless darkspawn? Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter.

giving the truth, but not the whole truth

Blackwall: Skyhold. How did you find it? Solas: I looked. Blackwall: Now you sound like Cole. You looked? Solas: This world is full of wonders for those who seek them.

Blackwall: You spoke of seeing death and destruction. Did you fight in a war? Solas: There are struggles across Thedas at any given time. I doubt you would have heard of it. Blackwall: An elven skirmish? Solas: In a manner of speaking, yes.

Cassandra: Solas, have you always lived alone? Out in the wilderness, as an apostate? Solas: For the most part.

Cassandra: Have you ever encountered templars before? Solas: Only at a distance. I am an apostate, after all. Cassandra: And they never caught you even once? Solas: I am a very careful apostate.

Dorian: We found elves, living ancient elves, at the Temple of Mythal. Does that bother you, Solas? If Inquisitor allied with the Sentinels: Solas: I am pleased we were not forced to kill them, if that’s what you mean.

Iron Bull: You’ve got an odd style, Solas. Your spells are a bit different from the Circle mages or the Vints. Solas: That comes from being self-taught. Solas: I discovered most of my magic on my own, or learned it from my journeys in the Fade.

Vivienne: So, an apostate? Solas: That is correct, Enchanter. I did not train in your Circle.

Solas: You are a man who made a choice... possibly the first of your life. Iron Bull: I’ve always liked fighting. What if I turn savage, like the other Tal-Vashoth? Solas: You have the Inquisition, you have the Inquisitor... and you have me.

from cutscene at beginning Inquisitor: [mentions the anchor closing a rift] Solas: Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct.

from cutscene at beginning Solas: [to a Dalish Inq] You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here? Inquisitor: What do you know of the Dalish? Solas: I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. Inquisitor: [Crossed paths? dialogue choice] Solas: I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.

from “I’d like to know more about you” convo in Haven Inquisitor: What made you start studying the Fade? Solas: I grew up in a village to the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined. I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, became troublesome.

actually telling the truth but no one picks up on the gravity of it

Solas: [...] I believe the elven gods existed, as did the old gods of Tevinter. But I do not think any of them were gods, unless you expand the definition of the word to the point of absurdity. I appreciate the idea of your Maker, a god that does not need to prove his power. I wish more such gods felt the same. Cassandra: You have seen much sadness in your journeys, Solas. Following the Maker might offer some hope. Solas: I have people, Seeker. The greatest triumphs and tragedies this world has known can all be traced to people.

Cole: No, inside. I don’t hear your hurt as much. Your song is softer, subtler, not silent but still. Solas: How small the pain of one man seems when weighted against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples.

Cole: You didn’t do it to be right. You did it to save them. Inquisitor: Solas, what is Cole talking about? Solas: A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything.

Solas: Empires rise and fall. Arlathan was no more “innocent” than your own Tevinter in its time. Solas: Your nostalgia for the ancient elves, however romanticized, is pointless.

Solas: Our people used to be here. Sera: Pfft, you say that everywhere. Solas: It is more true than you want to believe.

Vivienne: You must be pleased, apostate. With the Templars dissolved, your rebels will be most difficult to pacify. Solas: My rebels? Am I an agent for their cause, whispering poison into the Inquisition’s ears? Solas: How comforting. Vivienne: You enjoy seeing yourself as a villain? Solas: No more than any other clever man who wonders what he could do if pushed.

Vivienne: [about the Temple of Mythal] Now you know the elves were once a mighty nation. Solas: I always knew, Enchanter. The Temple of Mythal is just another reminder of what was lost.

(in the Emerald Graves): These forests have changed much since I was last here.

during the Fade!Haven cutscene Solas: It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture... and right then, I felt the whole world change. Inquisitor: [romance option] “Felt the whole world change?” Solas: A figure of speech. Inquisitor: I’m aware of the metaphor. I’m more interested in felt. Solas: You change... everything.

pointing out that people assume he means things he did not directly say

Cole: There is pain though, still within you. Solas: And I never said there was not.

Solas: You may well become fully human, after all. I never thought to see it. Cole: When did you see it before? Solas: I did not say that I had.

Iron Bull: We’ve got the alliance with my people. Given how much you love the Qun, I figured... Solas: I might scold you? Berate you for your decisions? Iron Bull: Hey. The Chargers died as heroes for the good of the mission. Solas: I never said otherwise.

Sera: Don’t you start. Solas: I’m reasonably certain I said nothing.

Vivienne: [talking shit about grey warden mages] Solas: I never claimed mages should be above the law, Enchanter. Vivienne: No, darling. You merely implied it, while offering no viable suggestions for improvement.

after infamous “side benefits” dialogue Warrior Inquisitor: You find my muscles enjoyable? Solas: I meant that you enjoyed having them, presumably. Warrior Inquisitor: Ah. Solas: But yes... since you asked.

diminishing things he does actually know by saying he he “believes” or “thinks,” or that things were vaguely “said” or “told”

Solas: I say what I believe to be true, even if it gives offense to those who prefer the lie.

Dorian: That orb Corypheus carries... are you certain it’s of elven origin, Solas? Solas: I believe so. Why do you ask?

Solas: It is said that we lived at a pace that sustained us for... ages.

making it sound like he’s talking about something/someone else, but it’s just him lmao

Cole: Do you know a lot about wolves? Solas: I know that they are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools think of as terrible beasts.

Solas: No man can kill so many people without breaking inside. To survive... those you fight must become monsters. Iron Bull: The ones that kill innocent people, yeah. The rest... I don’t know. Solas: The mind does marvelous things to protect itself.

during In Hushed Whispers Inquisitor: I’m glad you understood what he just said because I’m not sure I did. Solas: You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.

misc

this one i wanted to include because it’s the only circumstance (that i came across) where someone directly asks solas to lie and he literally says he can’t

during the fucking crestwood breakup scene Inquisitor: [angry option] Tell me you don’t care. Solas: I can’t do that. Inquisitor: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a cold-hearted son of a bitch and move on! Solas: I’m sorry.

*also note that most of these are banter transcriptions from the wiki; some are cutscene / other dialogue posted by either @/daitranscripts or u/karinini on reddit; it’s not all his cutscenes obv, but I’m not about to look up every single one individually sdlkfj*

[ellstersmash]

Three: Fifteen

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solas x f!Lavellan (Modern!AU)

Rating: overall E for Explicit | this chapter T for Teen

|Previous Chapter| |Next Chapter| |Read on AO3|

--

    [  Results were inconclusive. Again. Any last-minute suggestions?  ]

Athi reads the message from Solas, then reads it again. Is ready to send back [???] but her phone buzzes again before she has the chance.

    [  Apologies. That was not intended for you.   ]

She smirks—

no shit

—deletes her question, taps out a response.

    [  :* i miss u too   ]

    [  oop sry. wrong #   ]

    [  Ha Ha.   ]

    [  sry bout ur results :(   ]

    [  Thank you. What are you doing today?  ]

“That Solas?” Sera says, not bothering to look up from her unbroken line of yellow glitter glue. “Tell him to suck it.”

    [  arts n crafts   ]

Athi snaps a quick picture of the mess they’ve made in their living room and sends it to him.

    [  sera says suck it   ]

    [  Of course she does.  ]

“He says hi.”

Sera gags dramatically. “Thought you wanted to help with all this, not flirt with your boyfriend.”

A snotty retort itches behind Athi’s teeth but she stifles it. Rolls her eyes instead and tosses her phone aside, the device bouncing once to rest face-down on the sofa cushion. She picks up a thick black marker with pungent permanent ink, and gets back to work filling in the block letters Sera lined earlier.

Her boyfriend. Gods, but that sounds strange. Childish. Like they go on dates behind the primary school, or pretend not to be having sex in the room down the hall from someone's parents’. And yet she finds herself giddy at the thought. To be fair, it’s all she has for the moment. The thought. He's off on some adventure, and she's stuck here. Again. They'd only had that one perfect day, breakfast and window shopping and holding hands like real life lovers under trees full of dry rainbow leaves fluttering their applause. And then he took a phone call and went home to pack and left first thing in the morning.

She wonders just how often this happens.

How important could it be? Not like a bunch of ancient artifacts are going to up and wander off if he can’t go poke at them right away. A mental note to ask him later, and she moves this poster to the pile of finished ones and exchanges it for another that says “YOUR VILLAGE —> OUR CITY.” Cute, though maybe a smidge too reliant on humans knowing their history.

“Sure you don’t want to come?” Sera asks.

“That’s not—” Athi sighs. “I told you, I have work.”

“Yeah, but isn’t this more important?”

“I don’t know. Do you want rent paid?”

Sera quiets, kicking her legs back and forth as she works. Her glue bottle sputters, spits shimmer all over. A frustrated grunt and she tosses it aside, rolls onto her back.

“I’m just saying you should care is all. ‘S not going to get any better if nobody makes noise, and nobody’s making it for us.”

“Us?" Athi scoffs. "When we met, you said—and I quote—‘So glad you’re not one of those elfy elves.’”

“Yeah, well, therapy’s all right. Besides, it’s not for elves, or not just. It’s for whoever gets stepped on. That means us.”

“I didn’t know you were in therapy.” 

“Maybe I don’t tell you everything," Sera mutters. “Thought of that?”

Athi caps her marker and lays it down. It’s just a feeling, but it's nagging. Persistent. Like and yet unlike the one she still gets when her papae calls her by her full name. Isalathena Sulahnera Lavellan, come here this instant, and it’s heavy on her chest, sitting right on top of her breastbone. Guilty, but she's not.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. Throws it out there before the feeling gets stale and she decides it's something she can live with.

“Nothing.”

“Right, ok, except for it’s not, so come on. Let's get it out and over with.”

Sera sits up, blonde hair sticking out in a couple new directions. “What’s your problem?”

“You! You’ve been acting weird all week, Ser. Haven’t come in for lunch or been home at night, responded to texts—”

“If you think I want to be in the next room while you and—”

“Oh, so you have a problem with Solas? That was one—”

“No!” Sera groans in frustration. “I mean, yeah, he is kind of old, and talks about old stuff a lot, and he’s all”—she straightens her spine into an uncomfortable posture, then slouches again—“but I like him well enough.”

"Then what?"

Sera stares at her hands for a while. Then out the window. Then at the wall. Then back at her hands. Athi’s patience is thin on a good day, and it takes a lot of willpower to keep quiet as Sera opens her mouth and closes it again, false start after false start.

Finally, Sera blurts out: “I want to ask Dagna to move in.”

Athi has no idea what she was expecting, but not that. Searching for some way to relate it to her own behavior, to justify her feeling or shove it aside, she takes so long to form a response that Sera begins to fidget.

“You what?” she asks at last, thoroughly stumped.

“I want to ask Dagna—”

“Yeah, I…” Athi tries to catch up, shuffles through the past month as best as she can in the pause between. “Here?”

Sera squints at her like she's stupid, but that's fair. It was a stupid thing to say. 

“No, my mother's. Yes here!” 

“I’m sorry, I didn't realize you two were dating again. What’s it been, a year since you broke up?” 

“Yeah. You were out at your friend’s place. Better you missed the makeup sex, though, yeah? More room for fun.” 

At first Sera’s cheeky grin has Athi smiling too. It’s a relief to talk about someone else’s shit instead of her own, but then Sera glances toward the couch and—

Oh.

Oh gods, she wouldn’t have . . . would she?

Athi gets up for a glass of water, makes it two at Sera’s request. Sits cross-legged on the coffee table when she comes back. Just to be safe.

“Isn’t it a bit fast?” she asks.

“Maybe. Doesn’t feel fast, though. If you add 'em all up it's been like, a few years or something, so it sort of works out to normal. If you think about it.”

“I guess.”

Sera empties her glass in one go. “Her lease is up next month,” she says.

Athi nods. “Right. So soon, then. Um… and if it doesn’t work out?” She leaves out the again, but it’s implied.

“But that’s why I should do it! See, I keep losing her because I’m not in. She was serious about us, but I kept messing around. Don’t even know why, really.” She looks on the edge of losing her momentum, halfway to introspection, then snaps back into the room. “But therapy! So this time, like Wicked Grace, right? I’m all in and she’ll see I mean it. And then it’ll work out.”

Her logic isn’t quite flawed but it’s far from perfect. Still, friends don't tell friends to be afraid. Especially when those friends have clearly put a lot of thought into their dynamic-altering life-changing decisions. So Athi drops the questions.

“Wow,” she says instead. “I didn’t know you felt that way about her.”

Sera shifts into soft focus and smiles, a faraway look in her eyes. “Me either.”

She seems so certain. Satisfied, and happy. Really, truly happy. And it’s kind of fucking beautiful.

Feeling overcome for no good reason, Athi goes back to her task. Long thick careful black lines, then short ones. She marks a pattern with them to make it less work and more play. Not that anyone will see unless they’re trying. And as she makes the spaces solid, a thought occurs to her.

“So,” she says, bright. Like it’s no big deal. “Do you want me to move out?”

“What? No! Course not. Why would you say that?”

There’s no time to answer. After so much silence, Sera bubbles over with unused conversation. 

“I mean, do you want to move out? You’re not moving in with Solas are you? Gross. Definitely too fast for that one. Bet he wants to get married first, in a chantry and everything. Is he Andrastian, do you know? Where is he, anyway? He travels a lot for work, right? Must be nice. Wonder if his job pays for it. Is he gone now?”

Too many questions, so Athi answers the last one.

“Yeah. Flies in late tonight. He’s picking me up after work.”

Sera snorts. “What, picking you up? So you wouldn’t get up to take him in, huh? Good girl. Stay strong. Trust me, you drive him once and you're in for forever.”

“No, he didn’t even ask. Figured he’d take a cab or something, but I guess he drove himself.”

“And paid for parking? What’s he, loaded?”

Athi grins and crosses her fingers.

“Real nice. I’m serious, Ath, that’s some weird psychopath shit. Nobody drives their own self to the airport. No one who has friends, anyway.”

"I think he's just used to being alone.”

“Way to make it sad.”

"Alone doesn't mean sad."

"It kind of is though. But then, he’s got people, right? Like Varric, and, well... I don’t know. People.”

Athi shrugs. “Habits can be hard to break, especially when you’re not trying.”

“Ooh. Very wise today."

"Shut up."

"I mean it!"

She doesn’t tell Sera about the other things. The books covering all his furniture. The busted bathroom door that he removed rather than replaced. The singular coaster on his side table. The way he forgets to be hospitable, then overcorrects, asks her if she needs anything three times in a row. His house, his life, is not prepared for the presence of others. Not meant to host company or take in strays or accommodate a lover, meant for him and his needs and his convenience and no more.

And she’s honestly not sure if that makes her an exception or an intruder.

--

“Woah.”

The door slams shut behind her. Very nearly catches her in the ass but she happened to freeze just beyond its reach.

The place is gutted. Or maybe it's not? Ceiling and walls are fine and nothing she can place is missing, tables and chairs and bottles of booze all present and accounted for, but it looks fucking empty. And clean, though she can’t tell if that’s real or just the lack of tasteless decor.

“I know, right?” Tali dumps a bucket of ice in the bin with the rest. “It was like this when I showed up today.”

Athi drifts in slow, perturbed by the smell of cleaning solution and the lack of clutter. Hangs her purse on the coat rack just inside the office, her jacket on top of that. Pulls her hair back, ties her apron, washes her hands.

“Were we robbed?” she asks, only half joking.

“Technically, that would be a burglary.”

“Were we burglarized?”

“You know,” Tali says, “If someone broke in just to take those awful knick-knacks and creepy pictures Seggrit had up, I say more power to ‘em. Enjoy your ghosts, thief!"

Athi giggles. “Worst was the cabin.”

“Are you kidding? I couldn’t even look at that family one. The kid’s vacant stare, blessed Andraste, I wanted to flip it around every time I walked in that door. And you know that cat had seen things. I mean, did Seggrit know them? Why were they on our wall?”

"Somebody had to keep an eye on us."

"And make sure we weren't flirting with tall handsome customers in the back alley?" Tali grins, tongue stuck out between her teeth.

"Why? You make that a habit too?"

Tali wrings out and refolds her bar towel. “Ok, sweetie. Keep your secrets. I'll get my details one day."

"Anyway." Athi gestures at the naked walls. "Change!"

"Right. It was Seggie for sure. He was here when I came in. Must have dealt with all that crap this morning, though I couldn't say what he did with all of it. Or why. Oh! And he left that.”

Tali reaches back and raps a knuckle on the fridge where a sheet of paper hangs. Athi slides it out from under the magnet. Scans its contents. Flips it writing-side-out toward Tali.

“The fuck is this?”

“A cleaning list.”

“I can see that. Seggrit made it?”

“Either that or your writer pal is moving in for real.”

“And that’s not strange to you? That he cares?”

Tali shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe he’s decided to rejuvenate this place. You know? Spruce it up, invest a little time, maybe hire some better bartenders.”

“Hey, don't sell yourself short."

"Bold of you to assume I meant myself."

“This is weird, though. Right?" She reads off the paper. "Sweep out back? Deep-clean the office? Dust the brick wall? Tali, most of these have nothing to do with anything. Where are the temp checks? Or the fucking tap lines? Or, you know, any of the shit we should actually be doing?"

“Beats me, babe. I'm just glad he's getting involved. You should’ve seen him whirling around here earlier. Something seems to have lit a fire under his rear-end.”

Another feeling, but she can't place this one. It all fits together somehow, or should. The list and the bare walls and the lack of fire hazards. Chewing on the puzzle, Athi picks a task at random, takes a spray bottle and a coffee filter to the windows. Even free of five years’ grime and in full sun, they don’t illuminate much. But that’s all right. The list says clean, and they are definitely that.

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [691]

The wonderful thing about the Iron Bull is that he already knows how to read Mahanon, because he learned to read Ellana first. And between the two of them, Mahanon’s own personal language is probably just a little bit easier than Ellana’s. It’s simpler. Mahanon is much more straightforward than she is. Was.

The Iron Bull nods and slips the note out from under the knot of the cloth with his free hand. Mahanon still hasn’t quite managed to unlock his hand from Bull’s wrist.

“Mahanon,” Bull reads — because of course he can read it —, “If you are reading this then something has gone wrong.”

No shit, they both think.

“If you are reading this, then I am gone. If you are reading this, the Iron Bull has given you my key, and you have found my secret, and you have found my secret within my secret. It doesn’t mean anything if you are reading this, except to maybe placate you a little, but I was going to tell you and the others after I returned from the trip that most likely killed me.”

The Iron Bull has to stop there and take a slow breath as the grief swells in them both. The anger. The nearly blinding outrage at their mutual loss.

“The fact of the matter is, I wanted to hold this back for as long as possible. To use this information, I felt, would be unfair. I assume you’ve met the other Solas. The dream-Solas.”

“So he is a dream,” the Iron Bull mutters. “They’re dreams, I mean.”

“Does it matter? He’s Solas,” Mahanon replies.

“Not really, but it’s good to know they weren’t lying ‘bout what they were,” the Iron Bull says.

“I assume you’ve met the other Solas. The dream-Solas. I had asked him about it. How he would feel to have this information used against him. He told me that he feels that if anything he would feel a grudging respect if someone did this to him. He assured me that the other Solas — I don’t consider him the real Solas. A dream can be real, too.”

The Iron Bull pauses and he and Mahanon share a brief split second glance of amusement. How very Ellana.

“He assured me that the other Solas would not think it unfair for me to have done this to gain an upper hand. He would do the same. That isn’t very comforting to me. And so I did a selfish thing. I left you. I left all of you. I left without warning or hint of leaving, and I told myself, one last time, and if he still wouldn’t listen then I would come back and hand this all over to you and listen to the rest of you and whatever plan of violence you have. This note would be shredded and no one would ever read it. But you are reading it. Aren’t you? Bull. I’m sorry.”

The Iron Bull’s eye has closed and his arm flexes underneath Mahanon’s sweaty, cold, palm. Mahanon can visibly see the cracks in the Iron Bull’s fortitude. He simultaneously feels respect fo the fact that the cracks are just showing now and envies him for it. Mahanon feels like he’s just an entity made out of shattered parts shambling along most days. When he isn’t a coiled tight string of anger.

“Mahanon’s given you this letter,” the Iron Bull opens his eyes and continues reading, admirably composed despite all odds. “Because he cannot read it himself. At least, not alone. He has never been good at being alone. I wish he never has to learn how to be.”

Mahanon’s fingers, which had almost loosened, have returned to clutching at Bull’s wrist like a vice clamp in Dagna’s workshop.

“I’m sorry to you both,” the Iron Bull reads, “I have hurt you both. it doesn’t matter if I did not mean to, because I did. Mahanon, if you are still listening. If you are still there. I love you. You have been my heart, and you have been so strong for me and unwavering. I am sorry to have failed you and your trust.”

Mahanon’s eyes squeeze closed and his knees tremble.

“Bull. I have loved you more than I thought myself capable of loving someone who was not my own blood. Just standing near you I felt so completely satisfied and at peace with the world that I sometimes think that I had slipped into someone else’s life. More than anything, I wish I could have told you that in person.”

Bull’s voice falters and Mahanon snatches the paper out of his hand. He doesn’t have the strength to crumple it, but he doesn’t have the strength to listen to Bull read anymore.

He feels the paper being pulled from his fingers, though he’s certain he must be holding onto it as tightly as he’s holding onto Bull.

Cole’s voice picks up and they both slowly turn to look at him.

“These are the notes I have taken on Solas and the magic of the Anchor in specific. These are also notes on the others of the Evanuris. I have done my best to recreate drawings and schematics of ancient elven artifacts and their properties, as well as their approximate last known locations. There is so much we never knew. Despite my death, I hope that with this, you will find a chance to survive. I’m sorry. I have loved you both, and will love you beyond the Veil itself. Yours always, Ellana.”

“How unfair,” Mahanon whispers. Her name echoes in his ears like a parting blow. An unexpected stab. “To offer up information on the enemy for forgiveness of her — “

Bull reaches out and takes the cloth wrapped parcel from Mahanons hand, gently placing it on the ground. He steps forward and in and stiff motion puts his free arm around Mahanon’s shoulders and pulls them together.

“Your sister,” Bull says, voice rough, “Is probably the only person in the world capable of matching Solas in selfish self righteousness that loops around into biting them in the ass.”

Mahanon chokes out a laugh. He can feel the Bull take in slow, deep breaths, letting them out in slower exhales.

“But we love her,” Mahanon says. “But we love her.”

[musingmycelium]

MMMMM gonna be THAT person and ask alllll the questions for the quizzy as companion meme for whomever you desire :D

:0! under a read more for obvious reasons ljlkjlkjlkjkj

1, 8, and 9 answered here

2. How would they meet the Inquisitor? depends on how they came to the inquisition! if he came with idrilla, and honestly that means linayel too, then he would meet the quizzy upon arrival to skyhold, having sent word of their visit beforehand [though not too far before]. if by himself he would just show up and request audience with them -making himself available as an agent.

3. What would some of their cutscenes look like?!! his haven cutscene -if triggered with appropriate approval- would be in the woods outside the main settlement, he’d take the quizzy out into the quiet snow and share some dalish mead with them and offer conversation if they would like it and silence if they don’t. at the end he’ll tell them they were looking overwhelmed and taking a step back to breathe always aides with that.a high approval quizzy can get a cutscene at skyhold in the garden: da’ean tending plants until he notices quizzy walking over, at which point he’ll ask if quizzy has ever tended plants before and will offer to show them what he’s been growing. 

4. What would their romance route look like? Would they be romancable?ever a quiet romantic da’ean is

5. If they romanced someone as Inquisitor, would they still fall for that person as a companion? How would that play out? How would they react to that person being romanced by the “new” Inquisitor?yes! so da’ean romances dorian and the iron bull in my canon, and depending on the quizzy he would romance an unromanced bull or dorian or both still. their relationship is pretty solid, though with da’ean as a companion there would be a few changes to their dynamic mostly in terms of da’ean doesn’t have to deal with the trauma of being quizzy lkjkljklj if either of them are romanced by the quizzy he’d approve so long as quizzy treats them well!

6. Write some of their party banter (in reaction to major events, scenery dialogue, or just shitting around. Askers can specify for which character/event, or leave it up to the writer).this honestly deserves a post of its own so like, i’ll do that.... later.....

7. What would be on their tombstone in the fade (what is their greatest fear)?da’ean’s tombstone read: Silenced and Forgotten

10. If Inquisition operated like DA:O, what would their gift items be? What would their approval and disapproval Feast Day items be?:o i don’t have the feast day dlc so i’ll skip that since i don’t have a base of ref for it lmao. his regular gift items would be flowers, dalish artifacts, and books. the two which would trigger cutscenes would be a small halla charm -a high approval quizzy would learn here about his sister, and an ancient looking book written in a mix of elvhen and arcaic tevene -da’ean would excitedly talk about it and with dorian’s help translate the book revealing it to be a dalish songbook.

11. How would they grow as a person? How would they compare at the end of the Inquisition as a companion to who they were as the Inquisitor?at the beginning da’ean is more reserved and less likely to actively engage with the quizzy, as he gets more comfortable and gets to know the quizzy he’ll open up quite drastically. in terms of character growth da’ean goes from someone who is still tied to the past and doesn’t look to the future into someone who actively makes the future the best it can be for himself and those he cares about -effectively taking his head out of his ass and learning to cope healthily with the past.

12. Do they believe the Herald of Andraste is really the Herald of Andraste?absolutely the fuck not. if the quizzy is also dalish there would be dialogue between them for how da’ean believes the quizzy is sent by mythal but otherwise no he doesn’t believe in the maker one whit, and andraste isn’t exactly in his good graces.

13. If the Herald didn’t have them tag along to prep the trebuchets, what would they do during the battle for Haven? (bonus: would they join in on the impromptu Dawn Will Come choir practice in the camp?)da’ean would organize the younger members of the inquisition and ensure they make it out of haven safely. and lmao he has a lovely singing voice but a chantry song will never fall from his lips

14. What nickname does Varric give them?songbird. which da’ean finds hilarious since his name means little bird

15. Without the influence of their decisions for the Inquisition, which of the companions do they get along with? Which ones do they bicker with?da’ean gets along well with bull and dorian [duh] and sera the best, though he is also friends with viv and solas and varric! he bickers the most with solas and cass.

16. What would the Fear Demon say to them in the Fade to try and discourage them?I HAVE. DIALOGUE I WROTE AGES AGO.... FROM MY LONGFIC SO I’M GONNA REDUCE, REUSE, RECYCLE THAT SHIT

“You’ll fail the Inquisition just like you failed your sister.” The silken voice of the Nightmare sent shivers running up Da’ean’s spine. He couldn’t explain the sense of wrong the voice gave him, even as the words it spoke wriggled their way into Da’ean’s thoughts like worms. The lie based on truth; how many times had he told himself it was his fault before, how many nights had he spent in fear of his own incompetence and inability to protect those he cared about. How long must he carry this guilt, a month ago he would have thought he would never be free of it. Helpless to his terror.

Now; as he saw the snarl on Dorian’s lips, the hard glint in Bull’s eye, the outrage pouring out from Solas’s entire body, he knew, he knew it was not through any fault of his own. His soiled past was not something he could change, but right here, right now, he could move on. He could chose to leave everything that burdened him in the hands of those who came with him. He could ease the burdens they carried without fear of making things worse.“Doubt me all you want, but you know the truth. It’s your fault the slavers caught her, and it will be your fault when Corypheus captures the world.” The Nightmare must be feeling desperate, it had already gone after Hawke and Stroud, and now it was focusing solely on Da’ean. The breath-warm air and disorienting light was causing him enough problems, but if the Nightmare grew bored of him, he would move on to his next target.

“If you think those are new thoughts Nightmare, you are dead wrong.” They were close, they had to be close to the rift. If Da’ean could hold his attention until they could flee, the rest of the part wouldn’t have to deal with it.“I’ve accepted my mistakes, I know what I’ve done.” The hard knot of old anxiety in Da’ean’s chest was gradually unravelling; his newfound beliefs, hard won and solid, slowing taking its place. “I am stronger for knowing myself, what about you Nightmare? What have you done that you regret, what things haunt your dreams?”

maker that’s old but i’m not gonna edit it bc i’m lazy and its late lkjljlkjklj

17. Where do they hang out in the Winter Palace? What’s their thoughts on the nobles/The Game?he’d be out on the open. area. thing??? where dorian is stan-THE COURTYARD, he’d be chillin in the courtyard. da’ean couldn’t give a nug’s ass about the nobles or the game and will show some harsh contempt for those in the palace with their noses in the air around him like he’s not even there.

18. What’s their reaction to a dragon showing up?“fuck this but also fuck this” and high fives bull

19. Once Corypheus is beaten, what do they do during the party? Do they stay with the Inquisition, or go somewhere else? What could the Inquisitor do to convince them to stay?during the party he’d be talking/drinking with sera and after the inquisition depends on his romance options. if he romanced dorian he’d follow him to tevinter bc Fuck You Bioware eat my entire ass to make sure he’s safe and to chill in the background since there’s no going back home. if he romanced bull or bull and dorian he would travel with the chargers as the newest member to the crew. a high approval quizzy could convince them to stay only if romanced

20. How do they react to learning abominations can retain their consciousness and identity, and even live peacefully with their spirits/demons, as seen in Stone-Bear Hold?psst. pssssssst... the dalish already know and you can take that hc from my cold dead hands.... BUT he’d be excited to see it recognized and would want to talk with the augur extensively

21. What do they think of the discoveries made in the Deep Roads? Do they make any comments on anything?Buck Fuckin Wild is da’ean’s take on the deep roads. he doesn’t like the claustrophobic feel they give him, he does have Some Thoughts on the titans and talks about them with idrilla.

22. If you have another Inquisitor, how would those two get along, specifically?UUUHHHHH i have his older sister idrilla who isn’t a quizzy normally but in an au she might have been the quizzy and they get along great!

23. In trespasser, what “gift” would they give the Inquisitor, if any?a halla charm! one linayel carved for just this purpose and it’s threaded on a strip of leather.

24. What are their plans for after the Exalted Council? Will the Inquisition staying in tact or being disbanded make a difference?he goes back to doing what he was doing before it, it doesn’t change much unless he was romanced and then its dependant on player choice

25. In the alternate reality, if they were corrupted with lyrium, how do they act? What’s their attitude about the end of the world/their inevitable death? oh fuck da’ean would fall deeper into depression, lose all sense of time/meaning and he would just end up with total and complete apathy

[wootensmith]

Elgar’las

He led her to the center of the room, opened the bedroll he’d left there. “I want to tell you a star story,” he said and drew her down to the blankets. He lay back, his arms cushioning his head. She followed and he mourned the absence of her elbow brushing his.   “There are no stars, Solas,” she said. “The roof is whole.”

“Patience, Vhenan,” he said, sending veilfire rippling up into the distant dome. “Before the Veil, spirits mingled with our people freely. Some chose to take on our forms and remain among us. And we have spoken of how our own people forsook this world in uthenera, seeking out the deepest parts of the Fade. The spirits were many, as many as our own people and more, for there are as many as we have shades of emotion and compulsions. But there were a few who did not visit this existence as often as others. Spirits of Wisdom were always a rare and marvelous thing, even at the height of Elvhenan, while spirits of anger were drawn to us often. But there was one who retreated completely when the Evanuris proclaimed themselves gods and began taking slaves. I only ever heard legends of it.” The veilfire touched the first point of his painting, the outstretched hand of the figure, it blazed forth and he watched the Inquisitor slip into the memory. His own, of the terrible blast at the Conclave. He’d been descending into the valley when the sky rent, emerald and shrieking. The snow rumbling around him, though he was still miles above the temple. The danger of avalanche seemed remote and small compared with the terror the ragged breach caused. She was shaking as she returned to him. He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her. “They said it lingered in places like this, in the hovels of slaves planning rebellion. In birthing rooms and down among the dwarves, in the Proving arena. But it never was convinced to manifest again. And gradually, it grew more distant, slipping farther and farther into the Fade as life in this world grew more cruel.” Another light shone out, a shoulder.  This time, Cassandra as he had first met her. Disheveled and sooty from the flames. She’d been trying to drag a wounded mage from the end of the bridge and awkwardly slashing at a rage demon with her sword arm. “Leave him,” barked a nearby soldier, aiming his bow at the demon. “It’s them that caused it, mark my words.” “Not this one,” snarled Cassandra. “He was outside the blast or he’d already be dead. Just like the rest. Like—” she broke off with an anguished yell and stabbed at the demon. Solas stepped in to finish it with a spell. She turned the blade on him. “Who are you? How did you escape?” “Apologies,” said Solas calmly,  “I was— late to the Conclave. It is only luck that saved me.” “Are you Dalish?” she asked. “No.” “An apostate then,” cried the soldier. Solas didn’t wait to hear Cassandra’s response but knelt next to the mage. “I only came to offer aid,” he said, casting a healing spell on the unconscious mage. “That green light is a tear in the Veil. In a few hours, spirits will be attracted to it and you will be overrun,” he murmured, low enough that the soldier would not heal. Cassandra crouched beside him. “You know how to stop it?” she asked. He noted she had not sheathed the sword. “I am uncertain. But given the opportunity to study it, I may be able to offer some solution, yes.” “It was likely a mage that caused this. Why should I trust you?” He picked up the staff he had laid beside him. Handed it to her. “Because I’m here. And I’m not running at the sight of a Seeker.” Cassandra nodded, but her hand closed over the staff. The memory faded.

“Wisdom told me it met the spirit once. But that to find this spirit and Wisdom together was something rare indeed. One often drove away the other. It said the spirit had complained that seeing the world too clearly had made it lose itself, warped it from its purpose. Wisdom advised it to retreat, that its view was too small. If it saw all the world at once, it would regain its purpose. So the spirit flew to the stars, to get a clearer vision.” The other shoulder lit up. A memory of Varric, pacing the stone floor of the Chantry as Cassandra and Cullen argued. He elbowed Solas. “You think it’s as bad as these two are making it out to be?” “I think it is likely to be worse, Master Tethras.” “Shit. We should go. Get these people out of here. Village full of kids and farmers and chantry sisters. They aren’t going to be able to fight demons. We should be loading them on carts right now—” “I agree.” Varric stopped pacing. “Well then, don’t you think you should tell them that?” he asked. Solas laughed, but it was sour and short. “They are as likely to listen to you as me, and you are Cassandra’s prisoner, are you not?” “If you won’t do it, I will, prisoner or not. Seeker!” Cassandra turned with a scowl. “This does not concern you, Varric.” “The sky is about to rain demons, Seeker. I’d say that concerns us all. You have people who can’t fight here. Lots of them. You need to evacuate—” “We don’t have time for that,” said Cullen, “all of our men need to be prepared to hold back the demons—” “Hold them back from what?” asked Varric, “What are you defending, if not the people? The buildings? The chantry church? They can be rebuilt. Make time, Cullen. These people are what’s important.” Cullen rubbed his neck and glanced at Cassandra, who sighed. “Very well,” said Cassandra, “You and Solas take a squad and round up some wagons. Three hours, and then I need you at the front to relieve others.” Varric nodded. “Three hours, Varric! Or when this is done I’ll hunt you down—” “Relax, Seeker. Where would I go? The story is all here.” The Inquisitor smiled as the memory released her.

“There was a prophecy, though, whispered among the slaves for generations,” said Solas, “That the spirit would someday return. When all seemed lost, it would descend from the stars to aid the People.” Another flash of veilfire, the center of the figure’s chest. The Inquisitor flinched at the explosion that echoed in the memory. He’d been fighting in the crater, side by side with Varric, a small squad of soldiers around them, when the ruins were rocked again with the explosion of green light and a figure tumbled down the rubble and came to rest in the ash.   “Andraste’s ass, what was that?” asked Varric. Solas stabbed the end of his staff into a terror demon with a grunt. One of the soldiers ran up to the lump in the dust. “It’s a woman!” he cried.  “She’s alive!” The others ran to help. Solas crouched beside Varric, turning Lavellan over. He frowned when he could find no obvious injury. “What’s wrong with her?” asked one of the soldiers. Solas shook his head. Varric lifted her hand and gently wiped the soot from her palm. “I’d say it probably has something to do with this,” he said, spreading her fingers to show Solas the emerald brand in the center.

The Inquisitor rubbed her cheek, as if the soot and the vallaslin were still there. As if they were in Haven and the char still stank upon her skin instead of here, in the quiet empty of June’s temple. “We used to invoke the spirit before raids to free slaves. Before battles with the Forgotten Ones. In the panicked moments before I raised the Veil. But it never answered. It was not time.” A light at the painting’s hip burned brightly. This time Sera. He’d caught her splashing around in Winter Palace’s large fountain after the ball. “What are you doing?” he asked. She plunged her face into the water for an instant. Something glittered in her hand when she rose again. “Rich nobs been tossing them in all night. Already found dozens,” she spluttered, holding the coin up for him to see. “Sera, if you need money—” “Psh. Not for me. Got what I need. But you see how pinched those kitchen servants are? What’s left of em. Imagine making food all day and never eating near enough. Josephine took me round back and gave me a scolding beforehand or I’d snatch them right from their big, ugly purses. But she never said anything about the fountain. So. Baker down in low quarter opens in an hour. Got that long to find em all and buy up the day’s bread. Or a month’s. Not much, but maybe it’ll put a little padding on their bones.” She squeezed her hair and it dribbled. “You going to help or just stand there? Didn’t piss in the fountain or anything.” She laughed. “Yet.” Solas stepped into the water and called a small light to search for the glint of gold.

“As time went on, people spoke of the spirit less and less. It’s legend was forgotten. Only Wisdom and I remained to look for it in the Fade. We searched everywhere. All the ancient dreams of the People we could find. But we were unlucky.”  A star at the knee, this time. And Vivienne’s voice with it. “You must take her to the Circle. She cannot possibly learn to control this here—” “Please madame, the Circles are all in shambles. Who would take her that I can trust?” Solas stepped into the library doorway, watching the noblewoman frantically trying to smother the magic flame clinging to the child’s hand with her handkerchief. Vivienne sighed. “What on earth can I do, my dear? I cannot train her for a Harrowing here, and even if I found an appropriate facility to do so, my time is not my own. If the Inquisitor needs me—” “You could start. Please. I have no one else to turn to. I don’t trust the mages from Redcliffe— for all I know they are already abominations. I heard what they did in the Circle there. And that Tevinter magister is—” “A decent man,” interrupted Vivienne. She frowned. “But not adept at fire magic.” She knelt to face the child. “Marie, listen to me.” The girl looked up at her, still plainly panicking. “You have helped your mother in the kitchens, haven’t you?” The girl nodded. “Good. I want you to think of the fire like the dough on your mother’s hands after she kneads it. What does she do with the mess on her hands, Marie? Show me.” The girl was hesitant but stared at her hands, still aflame for a moment. She slowly closed her fingers over one wrist and drew them down, gathering the flame. And then the other side. Held out the ball of flame to show Vivienne. “Good girl. Now—” Vivienne held out her own hand and snapped it closed. The girl repeated the action and the flame went out. “There. Neat and tidy. Just like that,” said Vivienne with a smile. “Very well, Marie. Every day I’m in Skyhold, come to me after your morning chores.” The girl nodded. “Thank you,” sighed the mother. “Not a word to the Seeker or Commander Cullen, understand? If the lessons last long enough, I will tell them myself and we’ll prepare a Harrowing. But I’m confident we’ll set the Circles to rights before then.” The memory faded. “I would have helped her,” said the Inquisitor. “As would I. But they chose Vivienne, and she did well by them.” He lit the next star, a foot. “Boots for Dorian and Bull,” he laughed softly. The cold of the Emprise gnawed at his fingers, pinched every angle. He stood by his horse, waiting for Dorian, the echo of the lyrium still thumping in his head. His center still ached at the thought of leaving the Inquisitor behind. Dorian’s voice slid over the snow. “— have to make sure they have furs, Bull. Those houses aren’t fit for anyone to—” “Relax, Dorian. We won’t leave them to freeze. The boss has already got workmen on the way.” “I should stay— keep the fires lit. I can do that much at least.” They appeared over the small rise. Bull’s hand was on Dorian’s shoulder, guiding him firmly toward Solas. “I have a flint and steel.” “But I need to—” “No, Kadan. You need to go back to Skyhold. We don’t need you lighting fires. We need you figuring out what this shit is. I can’t do that. And the Inquisitor needs to be here. But we can smash the stuff until the end of time, unless we know how to stop it from regrowing, the templars will just keep making it. You and Solas and Viv, you have to figure it out. And you can’t do it here. You can barely even walk straight. Go home. I’ll keep the others safe. And the villagers. But not forever. I may be the Antaam, but you’re the cavalry.” “Remind her to keep her barriers up,” sighed Dorian. “I will.” “And don’t let the villagers eat anything heavy for a few days. It’ll hurt them, I’ve seen it bef—” “I know.” “And no dragons.” Bull grinned. “Can’t promise that.” Dorian shook his head. “Be warned, if you are foolish enough to die, I’ll come back and raise you to use as a coatrack, Amatus.” He stood on his toes and pressed a kiss to Iron Bull’s lips. “Thought you didn’t want anyone to—” murmured Bull. “I’ve ceased caring,” snapped Dorian. Solas turned away to hide a smile when Bull winked at him over Dorian’s shoulder. The Inquisitor wiped her tears as the memory ended.

“I’ve stopped looking for the spirit, Vhenan. Long ago. Before you were born. How could Elgar’las, a spirit of hope, return to the hard, cold place this world has become? Even my plans to dismantle the Veil did not make me think it would return. The prophecy would not occur in my lifetime, I knew. I could only dream it would come after, that something would draw it back centuries after me.” Another star, the opposite knee.  This one Blackwall trudging through the snow behind a train of wagons. There was a tired child clinging to his back, wrapped in furs. Solas kept pace with them and passed Blackwall a skin of warmed wine. “Should I take a turn with her?” asked Solas. “No. We need you with the wounded. Not the first little one I’ve carried, she won’t break me.” Blackwall grinned through his beard. “Though— would you—” he stopped and spun partway. “In my pack. Smaller pocket. There’s a— a poppet.” “You want a charm?” “No!” Blackwall’s cheeks reddened. “It’s not like that. It’s a toy, Solas. For the girl.” “Ah.” Solas reached into the pack and fished around while the child peered eagerly over Blackwall’s neck at the mention of a toy. He felt the rough wooden figure and pulled it free. He held it up for the child who laughed. “He’s so pretty!” she cried.  “It’s Master Dennet, isn’t it?” Blackwall twisted his head to look up at her. “Not much to see in the stables for models.” “Will you make a horse for him?” “Aye, if it pleases you.” The girl hugged Blackwall’s neck and he chuckled, turning back to the snowy trail.

“That was after Haven?” asked the Inquisitor. “It was, though I doubt it was the last time he carried a child. Or made them a toy. I am grateful for the chance to see Blackwall again, though I wish for the world’s sake, they’d all remain far from here. I’d far rather he died in his bed than down in the Deep Roads.” “That’s not the fate he wanted,” she said, watching him. “I know.” Solas turned back to the ceiling. Flicked his fingers once more, and a point at the opposite hip lit up. “Just as I had in Haven, I despaired of anything ever altering. Of any path beside the dark one I was on every revealing itself to me. But then—”

Cole stood beside him in the Inquisitor’s quarters, staring at a full washing basin. “Stir,” the boy commanded. Solas sighed but slowly stirred the center of the water and the slow pulse of a wave traveled from his finger to the edge of the bowl. Cole reached into his pocket, pulling out an odd assortment of items. He picked a pebble from among them and dropped it into the basin. “You see?” He pointed at the subtle rings the rock had made, crashing into his own, reshaping the waves. “Some ripples change all the others. Forever. She’s changed you. Why not everything?”

The Inquisitor smiled but shook her head. “I am no spirit, Solas. I don’t have that clarity of purpose.” “No. I would not love you half as well if you were.” The veilfire points expanded, reached for one another, completing the constellation. “But what the Inquisition did, what you’ve done— if anything can draw Elgar’las back to this world, it must be that. Whatever the outcome of this plan, there is no greater gift than the return of hope.” She pointed. “But it isn’t finished.” He tried to follow her gaze, but could see nothing wrong with the painting. “It is. The constellation is complete. I finished it some time before you arrived.” She stood up. “No. It’s not done. How did you get up there?” He followed her as she searched the dome for scaffolding. “I don’t—” She turned back to him and pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Just show me how to get up there.” “Very well. But the paints are no longer—” “I don’t need them.” He shook his head, confused, but wrapped his arms around her. A swift slip through the Fade and they stood upon the wide ledge below the painting. She turned to face the enormous mural. He felt the slip of her wards, the silence that took the place of her magic’s hum. “I haven’t stabilized it in hours—” he warned her. “I won’t break. Not for this task.” She shut her eyes. A spark of sea-green glittered in her palm. And then twisting flame, curling around itself. She opened her eyes. Looked up at the mural and then to Solas. “I can’t reach it.” She poured the flame into his hand. “Keep us together, Vhenan. There, in the heart.” She pointed above them. He looked down at the veilfire. “Don’t—” she warned him, but he looked anyway.

It was a memory of himself. One that he didn’t recognize. Disorienting, seeing himself pallid and frail, eaten up by the red glow of tainted lyrium. “Solas,” cried the Inquisitor’s voice. “You’re unwell.” Words he’d never said spilled from him, easier than he’d have expected. “I am dying, but no matter. If you can undo this, they can all be saved. If there is any hope, any way to save them, my life is yours.” The memory stuttered and he was falling toward an enormous rift. His own voice echoing against his ear. “Ar lath ma.” And another, of the orb lying beside the Inquisitor’s knee. “Take it, or lose everything,” she cried and then closed her eyes as the boulder above her teetered. A yank and rough stone and then vision again. His own face and a wave of relief and love swept him. “You weren’t supposed to choose me…” the memory faded. Solas reached up to the figure’s chest and placed it beside the memory of the Inquisitor tumbling from the Breach. “There. Now it is complete. All of us, together,” said the Inquisitor. “Just one of a thousand good dreams.” He held her face, tipped it up toward him. “You were the best dream,” he said.

[therealdragonnerdagain]

Dear Fellow Black People

Life is too short and being angry about white supremacy is a waste of energy.

I'm writing this because I'm tired of watching black people trying to reason with delusional white racists on the internet.

I'm writing this because -- for the sake of our own sanity -- black people need to stop giving a shit about white people and just make the best of our lives. I'm about to tell you why it will benefit you mentally and spiritually to focus on living your life the best you can and just ignore white people. True to Universe 25, white people are kicking and thrashing against their own crumbling empire. They knew this was coming because it happened to black people first -- In fact, it's how they took over the world from us. We don't have to do shit but watch their downfall.

This is why you should stop giving a shit:

White people enjoy having white privilege and are never going to give it up. Never. Yes, even the "good liberals." Some of them virtue signal because they are ashamed of the overt racists among them (Nazis, KKK, etc) but are in reality complacent with subtle racism (Look at their reaction to Get Out) and try to normalize shitty thoughts and behaviors by saying things like "everyone is racist" (no, everyone isn't) and "humanity in general is evil" (no, humanity is not generally evil). It's an attempt to make us all as bad as they are so they can continue to be crappy people without question.

Stop explaining racism to white people. They don't understand it and/or pretend not to understand it just to exhaust you, and the ones who do understand do not give a shit. We know that racism is an IRRATIONAL hatred of an entire group of people (what have black people as a group really ever done to white people?), but white people will never see our resentment against them and all the shit they’ve done to us as rational. They will always be forever enraged that we dare to not complacently enjoy oppression even while they deny us employment, healthcare, nutrition, decency, respect, and continue to demonize us in the media.

White people are angry about Black Panther because the movie didn’t just troll us: it trolled white people too. Most white people are aware that black people (the moor) originally ruled the world and that white people were once at the bottom of the social hierarchy. They do not like being reminded of that. Black Panther acknowledges that white supremacy is coming to an end and that white people are losing everything they unapologetically slaughtered other people for. At the same time, the movie demonizes black Americans and mocks Africans by reminding us of what was lost and what we can never get back. Because clearly, China is the next world power.

White people are on a mission to take us out with them as they die, and they can not be reasoned with. They are rabid dogs so focused on subjugating and oppressing us scary, threatening black people that they can’t even see how China is the real threat. China has been slowly placing price tags on white asses for years now. Before long, they will run everything. Their population is exploding, while white people are disappearing. It would be in their best interest to kiss China’s ass, but they are too busy shitting on black people, making racist jokes about Latinos, fighting Arabs, and fighting each other.  

You can't get through to white people because they actually believe everyone else is as bad as they are. They actually, truly believe this. They lack any and all ability to empathize with people who are not white (this is why they don't care about police brutality, why they don’t understand Black Lives Matter, why the #MeToo movement was seen as “aggressive” by them because it was black-led, and why they are always "blind" to systemic racism), and the vast majority of them can't even empathize with animals. They are the only people who enjoy killing things for sport and taking pictures with the corpses. They are the only people who disrespect nature and don’t have an issue raping it dry. They are 10% of the world's population and have managed to remain statistically the most violent. They can not be reasoned with. People who see you as less than a person will NEVER listen to a thing you say.

They constantly project, and this is why they continue to brutalize, murder, and rape us with the belief that we are like them and will do it to them. This is also why they fear black people gaining true wealth and power: they think all the hate they gave will come back on them. For this reason, weed will always be illegal in most predominantly white states, and even in the states where it becomes legal, its distribution (and therefore its wealth) will still be monitored closely so that it only monetarily benefits white people: no one will be allowed to grow pot in their house.

White people are literally a different species to us. This is why they don't see us as human, when ironically, they are the ones who aren't human. White people are the only "humans" who can't trace their evolution back to Africa. This is why they are so against teaching evolution in schools but mask it behind a Christian agenda. Yet they pretend that "we are all African" to get away with the shit they do. They are not African. They are not human. They are a different species entirely, which is why they refer to our blood as "monkey blood" because it’s primate blood and theirs is not. When two people get married, they have to get a blood test to see if their child will survive. Otherwise, the fetus will be rejected by the mother's womb as if it is a disease or a foreign object. Why? Because two different species have mixed over the years that should not be mixing.

White people are a different species entirely and it's been widely believed for years that they are actually hybrid descendants of the violent and savage Neanderthals that slaughtered their way from cave to cave (Sound familiar? That's basically white history in a nutshell). They even have fairy tales of how they came here from another planet. They rationalize their existence by saying they are descendants of angels and Tall White Aliens. Even white people don't believe they are human.

What kind of race hasn’t evolved to survive their own planet’s sun? If white people were from Earth, they would not crumble in the sunlight. They would not have stories about vampires and subterranean Martians. They would not be so diseased and frail. Because they would have evolved – as we did – to survive this planet.

The fact that we are a different species has been used to justify white people’s shitty treatment of us. Bio warfare (the invention of an AIDs virus whose origins they conveniently can’t trace and/or blame on black people), discrimination, brutalization, lynching, raping, slavery. The appropriation of our culture for their monetary gain. Constantly dictating what “human” is and telling us how to dress, think, and feel. Holding us back from our dreams. Stealing our genetics like accessories but shaming us for naturally having them. You can’t wear natural hairstyles to work or school and are expected to torture yourself with chemicals (perms) to appease them, so it’s literally illegal to be black. Brainwashing our community with Christianity. Dividing us with colorism. Keeping us poor, uneducated, and desperate. Distributing drugs among our people. Murdering every. Single. Civil rights leader. We. Ever. Had. Then having the gall to use MLK to lecture us about peaceful protests that they always slaughter our people for anyway. Then at the end of it all acting innocently appalled by our anger when we don’t quietly accept being treated like shit.

Four hundred years of consistently pulling devious shit against black people have proven their hatred for us is very real and is not going to change. It doesn't matter how "progressive" some white people appear. Most are doing it for political reasons, to sooth their own egos or to separate themselves from extremists like the KKK. White civil rights activism isn't about black people at all. It's about white people and their politics. The easiest way to look good is to pretend to give a shit about black people, right NatGeo?

White people are disappearing. They are 10% of the world's population and only maintain control because they control all the wealth. We could rise and kill them all (but we won't) which is why they are so terrified. Again, they are projecting. They think we are as bad as them, that we'll rise up and kill them all when their numbers are low, so their police brutalize us, and they encourage interracial dating in an attempt to survive through our genes, and they SUDDENLY give a shit about the environment because they won't be able to survive it in about 200 years the way our melanin-induced skin can. This is another reason why they want to get melanin in their genes.

Universe 25.

White people know they are on their way out. They have known a long time. Like I said on another post, they love writing stories about their white nightmares.

The Planet of the Apes was about a world ruled by apes (black people) and the horrified white man (Heston) who finds himself a slave there.

The Dragon Age franchise talks about Universe 25 in Inquisition. Solas is an ancient elf who watched elven civilization crumble due to wars over resources and imbalances in the social hierarchy. He foresees it all happening again to humans and it’s painfully obvious in his conversations with Varric and Sera. At first, Solas encourages Sera to actually do something to fight the system, then he quickly realizes that Universe 25 – the collapse of a system built on social inequality and/or experiencing a population explosion that divides resources – is inevitable and agrees that Sera is “fine as she is.”

Black Panther is just the latest version of these white nightmares, only white people have it wrong. When white people finally succumb to Universe 25, it is not black Africans who they need look to for salvation. The end of Black Panther preaches peace between the races and uses MLK to try and brainwash us into being kind to white people when Universe 25 finally happens to them (it’s sad that they think we’re so stupid that we can’t see through that shit) but in reality, it is not black people on whose mercy white lives will depend. That’s what the racists (some of them anyway) don’t get.

White survival is about to depend entirely on the Chinese.

White people will not be able to stand up to the Chinese, which is why they are pushing interracial dating. They want to elevate biracials to white status – just as they did with the Irish and the Scots – to improve their numbers, but it won’t be enough. So they are probably going to turn to Latin people next, who already consider themselves white and white adjacent. If they stopped being dicks to Latin people, Latin people might save them. Most Latinos are so anti-black and so thirsty for white status, you bet your ass they would do it.

 The reality is, white power has lasted this long because white people have done this before. They bred with the original indigenous black people across the globe to create most of the beige races that exist today, to survive, to continue to rule us. They will continue to do it in desperation but are slowly coming to the realization that their genes are actually weak and that they are, in fact, helping to create a world full of brown people. This is why some of them – the extremists -- are actually against interracial dating.

This is also why they won’t legalize abortion: they desperately want white women to keep having white babies and they desperately want black women to keep having black babies they can use as canon fodder in their wars.

But Universe 25 is inevitable for any civilization that experiences a population boom and starts fighting for resources. White people literally caused this population boom by raping black people to create new races.

It was already predicted long ago that white people would only rule for 600 years. They have 200 years left, and if they aren’t killed by Global Warming, they will still eventually fade away because they were never meant to survive this environment.  

White people can’t be saved from themselves. Just let them slowly die out. Let them fall in the grave they dug for themselves.

Black people are dying out too. We are the originators, the indigenous people of Earth who once populated and ruled the ancient planet, but before long, we will be gone, and it will be a planet of beige-colored people, a genetic mush of multicolored eyes and hair.

I pity that future generation, the people who will descend from us and who have to clean up our mess. Everyone will probably look the same at that point, so there will be no racism. But there will still be sexism, religion, pedophilia, terrorism, war, disease, social inequality, and poverty, because the white gene and its thirst to dominate and control will survive inside the black one.

You think I’m joking or that I’m being “racist” when I say this, but it is the reality. Black people originated true equalitarianism, a concept most white people can not even begin to grasp because their culture revolves around patriarchal power structures (in direct opposition to black matriarchal power structures), competition, selfishness, greed, “might is right,” and rewarding predators.

White people are doomed to be ruled by China. And even if white people all disappeared as they fear, we would still have to live with anti-black Chinese, Latinos, Indians, Arabs, and basically anyone who isn’t black because basically anyone who isn’t black hates us.

White people can not save themselves and are determined to take us down with them.

Let white people be. Let them be. Eat popcorn. Watch their turn at Universe 25. Watch. File your nails. Laugh. Stop stressing out over shit that’s about to be over anyway.

What can black people do in the meantime? Rediscover our spirituality. Communicate with the Source. Take care of ourselves and our communities. Be good to each other (end colorism). Practice LoA to enrich our personal lives. Move forward. Don’t look back. Detach. Observe the changing world powers from a safe distance.

Nytimes and other assbackwards websites will tell you not to ignore white people. Those are the sunken black people who can’t be saved, who have no idea what’s going on, who their ancestors were, or what happened in the past. Ignore them too.

Let them go. It is not worth the stress and life is too short to spend wringing our hands over racism.

It is out of our hands.

[captusmomentum]

Here’s another addition to the Time Baby Tace/ Arranged Tanzanite/ Conquering of Elvhenan/ Idk what I should call this au any more or if it even needs a name change au!

Based off the chatting about Disquiet raising lil Tace here’s that getting the ground!

@justanartsysideblog​​ @feynites  @theladypirate

The person who eventually finds Tace is some elf who looks more like a fucking demon than anything else. In fact he thought they were a demon at first until they realized they were wearing Dirthamen’s vallaslin. He knew about elf shit, he’d made a point of boning up on it after meeting up with Solas again at the exalted council. Demons didn’t wear vallaslin, elves did, but elves didn’t have grey skin and freaky eyes. At least where he came from.

That gives him a vague still forming idea of what the fuck is going on.

The creepy elf is very gentle with him though, and very worried, not a big shock since he’s a fucking baby alone in the woods. They wrap him in a blanket or cloak which he’s all for since he’s freezing his little baby ass off. They hold him in a way that has him pretty sure they have no idea what they’re doing and examine him intensely with wonderment and deep concern.

“What are you doing out here all alone? Do you know who left you?”

Tace gurgles and shrugs. Look buddy, he can’t answer, he’s a fucking baby.

They seem to take that shrug as a response though.

“Hm, I suppose that makes sense. It would be unwise for them to let you have a clear look of their face if you might be able to identify them.”

They keep him close and begin walking off somewhere, fuck if he knows, but as they move he can see the unmistakable glow of a spirit in the woods with them. Another piece to the “where the fuck am I puzzle.”

“Do not worry, baby. I will take you back to civilization and we will get this sorted out. You will be proper cared for and the culprit will be found.”

You better, he thinks as he nuzzles in closer to them.

The freaky elf seems surprised that he’s making himself comfortable, makes sense since they look like what templars think of to kill a boner. They’re probably not the life of the party back home, unless everyone else looks like that too. They look confused and unsure but they reach out and very gently stroke the side of his head, as soft as a whisper. He blinks up at them and when he doesn’t immediately start crying or something they smile tentatively.

“I’m Disquiet, it’s very nice to meet you. You can introduce yourself when you have a name.”

Tace nods, amused. Disquiet huh? That certainly explains a lot while explaining fucking nothing. They’re kinda cute though, like a socially awkward undead. Spooky, but endearingly incompetent. Disquiet is mostly silent as they bring him into civilization but they talk occasionally, and Tace listens contentedly. Their voice is soft and a little eerie but overall soothing really. The creepiness doesn’t bother him at all now that it’s clear they’re not a baby eater. His best and only father figure was a heavily disfigured elven man who’d slowly lost his memory after being trapped in the Fade for millennia so really, he was pretty pro with creepy parents.

Tace figures out two things pretty quickly:

1. Babies are rare in Ancient Elf Land and people lose their fucking minds over them.

2. No one there thinks Disquiet should be near the rare precious baby.

Tace has other opinions on that second one, namely that they can all fuck off because he doesn’t know any of these fucks and he’s not leaving Disquiet’s arms to get whisked off from his one known element and be passed around by a bunch of handsy strangers.

So he wails, cries and kicks like a monster every time someone tries to take him from them. It gets to the point where Disquiet becomes clearly and obviously defensive of him and begins ordering severely people about how they can and can’t interact with him which he likes very much. If he’s a precious commodity here then he demands to be treated like one, jealously guarded and admired frequently.

He gets the feeling that because people don’t like Disquiet they don’t want to let them keep him and want to give him to some other people who they think are more qualified. But Tace doesn’t wanna fuck around with that shit, he’s not gonna get passed around like a reward to people who probably don’t deserve it and he can’t be sure aren’t gonna be total parental fuck ups. Disquiet is not the ultimate picture of baby prowess but they’re kind and nice and spent 2 whole days researching how to baby super good so they’re good enough in his book.

Plus they seem very lonely and it doesn’t take a fully grown body for his adult ass mind to see that they’ve already gotten very attached to him. He doesn’t want to see them get all lovey-dovey baby smitten only to have the Greatest Baby They’ll Ever See taken away. It’s a very depressing thought and he’s already got enough of that shit on his own, he’s full up no more sad shit.

The final verdict is made when he’s presented to Dirthamen who sits there on a spooky throne in a spooky blank white mask, either draped in or made of something that looks a lot like ink in water, only not ink and in air. Other people try to explain why Disquiet should not have him. Disquiet points out he loses his shit when other people have him and Dirthamen asks to hold him, to see if it’s so. Disquiet brings him over to the Evanuris who, holy shit is fucking MONSTROUSLY TALL—oh wait right he’s a baby—and places him gently in Dirthamen’s waiting arms.

Tace loses his goddamn mind, he has no idea if or when he’ll ever get a chance to be thing fucking terrible in the presence of an Evanuris again and he fucking goes whole hog on it. Dirthamen seems startled by his response and hastily, but carefully returns him to Disquiet who coos and hushes him until he’s quiet and sweet and cuddly again. Fuckers.

“Disquiet is correct. The baby does have a clear attachment to them, since it’s reaction to being separated is so strong it would be irresponsible and potentially damaging to it to give the baby to another to raise. The baby will stay with them, you are relieved of your duties as my scout to raise it.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Disquiet says, breath a bit shaky as they bow.

Tace can feel it in the weird emotion shit that’s a Thing now, a faint and building charge of incredulous excitement as Disquiet looks down at him, their official, legal child.

He blows a spit bubble at them.

Disquiet becomes very popular over night as people clamor to “assist” them in raising him. Disquiet is clearly overwhelmed by all the attention and unsure of how to deal with it. They can see the conflict they saw in other mages at the circle, the desire to be liked, the thrill of finally being noticed, the wariness and the grim bitter knowledge it’s all just an act to get something out of them all warring inside them.

They do not accept any of the offers. At least not yet. He’s just fine with that.

What’s really important to him right now is that now that it’s all official and shit Disquiet has bought a crib for him which means he’ll be sleeping there and not in bed with them being snuggled and held.

Which is some serious fucking horse shit in his book.

If he’s stuck being a baby then Maker fuck him he’s gonna get the full baby experience and make up for all the cuddles and kisses he didn’t get from his birth parents which means being snuggled and fussed over all night like the little darling he is for fuck’s sake.

[justanartsysideblog]

What do you think would happen in Inquisition if Sylmae were still an ancient elf and woke up, like Solas did?

Oh geeze, anon, that would be...an interesting situation. And by interesting, I mean messy and chaotic and unlikely to end well. Under the cut for length, because I got carried away. XD

First we’ve got the fact that Sylmae didn’t ‘choose a side’ so to speak, during the rebellion. Sylmae believes both the Evanuris and the Nameless were flawed. She sympathized with the Nameless way more, and lived in Nameless territory, but she did not fight their wars or become on of their Leaders, like the Nameless wanted. 

Sylmae wanted to be left alone, to try and salvage the old ways and traditions that were being lost, and to grieve. 

Now, she was known by the Nameless as someone who could help, if something went wrong. Many of the clans would seek her out for advice or aid, though the Nameless Leaders tended to see her as an obstacle, since she refused to fight with them against the Evanuris. But to her they were both two different types of tyrants, and she wasn’t going to help fuel either side.

So when the rebellion went in full swing and shit went down, Sylmae worked damage control. She protected the People. She didn’t make them choose sides, didn’t force rhetoric down their throats, or ultimatums. Sylmae helped people that needed it; those escaping from both the Evanuris and the Nameless. 

And it must be said that the elves that went to her and stayed with her (eventually she couldn’t remain as a mountain hermit, when so many people needed her) learned how to live without being as dependent on magic, since the areas in the Dreaming were weaker deep within the wilderness where she usually lived.

So...let’s say she went to sleep, maybe she decided she just wanted to slip into uthenera and be with her wife...and she dreams, and sees what happened to the People, and how Solas brought up the Veil, etc...and then she’s jarred awake by some large magical phenomena, and then rifts in the Veil start appearing.

Sylmae is, luckily, not going to freak out as much when she wakes up with magic being nearly nonexistent and everything out of sorts. She is not easily ruffled, and she’s lived through similar situations. So she’s going to be able to get a handle on the situation faster than most. She’s going to recognize that tear in the veil really quick; even if she doesn’t know the exact source, she can piece it together, and she can sense the type of magic that is the reasoning behind it. 

So chances are she’s going to seek out answers, and find the Inquisition.

Now here’s where it gets complicated.

I doubt Sylmae ever met Solas in person. She’s heard of him, from tales of survivors who came to her camp, and through Nameless propaganda, but she likely doesn’t know what he looks like.

That being said, she’s going to be able to spot that he’s an ancient elf a mile away. And she’ll connect the dots pretty quick. Solas, I think, will feel that something is off about her, but she doesn’t hold herself like an ancient elf from the times of the Evanuris. She’s older than them, from the time when the Keepers still had their clans and the Evanuris were only a blip on the radar. 

So she does lots of things, and acts in ways that Solas isn’t necessarily familiar with. He may see it as some odd ‘Dalish’ habit, until he unearths the fact that she is an ancient elf as well.

And it won’t take too long, in the grand scheme of things. Because Sylmae doesn’t see a reason to hide it. She’s not scheming, she doesn’t have a reason to hide herself because remaining hidden doesn’t benefit her in any way. She doesn’t feel the need to conceal and hide for survival’s sake, as is the case with Uthvir in these situations, or Melarue. There is no need for her to pretend to be anything other than what she is: a really old elf. She isn’t going to run around introducing herself as an ancient elf, but she isn’t going to try to conceal that knowledge, and if someone asks, she’ll explain as best as she can. 

She’ll want answers more than anything else. She isn’t here to kill him and get revenge, like Melarue would do. She wants to know why he did this, and what he plans to do now. 

And when it eventually comes down to it, she’s not going to side with him, for various reasons. First off, Sylmae won’t have any trouble in seeing the people of Thedas as people. She’s lived in similar conditions, and has been just as dehumanized and stripped of personhood as they are. She gets that, and it wouldn’t take much for her to decide they are just as real and valid as the people from her time.

Solas comes from a world of privilege. He’s never been in similar situations to Sylmae, or the people of Thedas. He has always been a few steps above the common people. Solas was favored by Mythal, and given a body to further her goals, and rose in the ranks quickly due to this. He was never low-ranking, or unmarked. He never endured the hardships of that world and he doesn’t have the same experiences that would lead to that kind of sympathy and empathy. 

He came to realize that the institutional tyranny of the evanuris was bad, but he never fully lived it. His is a philosopher’s commentary on the woes of the People, not an autobiography. 

Solas is still very much within the mindset of ancient elvhenan, in many ways. And he still clings to this belief that Mythal was good. That she had reasons, and that if he can go back and make certain she lives, things will work out for the best.

He doesn’t see Mythal as an integral part of the problem, or at least not in a way that would make him think she deserved to be unseated from her position of power, and that is the biggest problem. 

Solas thinks the past was better for all its problems and is the only world-state, so to speak, with meaning and legitimacy. And in some ways, obviously, it was. There are certain aspects of it that were definitely better.

But they were aspects that did not improve the lives of the less-fortunate enough to justify reversing time and going back there. Not to Sylmae. She doesn’t view the past he sees through the same rose-colored glasses. 

Ancient Elvhenan sucked ass. She isn’t going to wax poetic about a time gone by when most of that great Elvhen Renaissance that Solas loves and mourns she spent being imprisoned and tortured by the Evanuris simply because she wouldn’t bow to them.

Sylmae has always been of the mindset of improving the situation she is currently in. And moving backward and restoring a time period when she and many others were still oppressed, with no promise that it will get better, is not a movement she can get behind.

She remembers the old ways, and she sees the bits and pieces of those traditions that the Dalish have picked up, shattered and broken as they are, and sees how they’ve polished them and made them their own.

The Dalish have far more in common with her than Ancient Elvhenan ever did.

So I think once Sylmae realized Solas’ plans, she’d confront him. And I don’t think it would go over well, because there is no way he could convince her that the world will be set right by defaulting back to a time when the Evanuris were still alive and in power. He’d have better luck if his pitch was to go back to when the Keepers still roamed with their clans, before they started ‘going mad’ because of Mythal’s machinations.

Sylmae knew Keepers and clans that Mythal destroyed. She had to help put several down herself. Sylmae has never thought of Mythal as compassionate or just, so Solas can’t sell her on that.

And so they’re going to have to fight, probably earlier on than the timeline within Inquisition would prefer, which is why it would definitely complicate things.

I don’t know how it would go down, or who would prevail. Neither Solas or Sylmae hate one another. There is no anger between them. But they are diametrically opposed in this, and Sylmae has seen the Evanuris destroy the People once. 

She will not allow it to happen again without a fight. 

---

Thank you for the ask!

[ass-sass-sin-archived-blog]

11

Codex Prompts

11.  Your OC’s description of their game’s events

Several sheets of parchment are found stuffed in Talon’s old desk, folded and starting to yellow with age.  The writing is hurried, as though the author were trying to get the words down on the page before they could escape, even more so as it went on.  Spelling mistakes litter the pages, dated 9:65 Dragon.  (Under cut for length.)

Look.  I ain’t no story teller.  That’s Varric’s job.  But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all this shit, is that history gets rewritten to suit whoever damn well wants to be in charge.  Or just conveniently forgotten entirely.  I ain’t stupid, and everyone knew from the beginning that if that damn dwarf ever wrote a book on this shit, no one’s gonna believe it.  I don’t care if no one reads this, or if you use it for fire kindling, but at least it’s out and written down.  That is what matters.  Maybe then I can process it.  It feels like a lifetime ago and I guess in a way it is.

I woke up a prisoner, swords pointed at me, and with a killer headache.  Kinda figured I got wasted and fucked up big time, which really wouldn’t have surprised me none.  Nah, that ain’t it though.  There were peace talks going on at the Conclave, Temple of Sacred Ashes.  Mages and Templars trying to sort out their differences and stop the fucking war between them that caught up the rest of Southern Thedas in it.  Turns out the entire thing went up in flames (figuratively I think, literally, it was an explosion) and that caused this giant hole in the sky that shat out demons everywhere.  Tore a hole in the Veil.  I wound up with this fucking glowing green mark on my hand (later we called it the Mark or the Anchor, why the Anchor, fuck if I know) and turns out that (surprise) this weird magicky shit can fix things.

Didn’t know that off the bat though.  First day I was awake Cassandra took me to show me what happened, ended up meeting Solas and Varric along the way.  Solas “had a feeling” the Mark could close the rift we were dealing with (Oh yeah, there were OTHER smaller holes in the sky that were also shitting demons everywhere, real fun time let me tell you- not) which surprise, it could.  (Explanation later.)  Also important note the Mark was trying to kill me because ~magic~.

Decide “oh, let’s use that to seal the Maker’s asshole (the Breach) that’s currently shitting demons everywhere even though you just woke up” which amazingly worked.  Woke up, apparently in three days I went from being blamed for the Divine’s death (ok so just because I’ve killed a lot of people even prior to this doesn’t mean she was on my hit list, rude fucks) to being named the fucking Herald of Andraste.  My name’s not Harold, it’s Talon.  Which was bullshit and I knew it even then, but nooooo religious fanatics have decided that THAT was who pulled my dumb ass out of the Fade.  Alrighty.

Cassandra Pentaghast and Leliana (later Divine Victoria) start the Inquisition again.  I think they’re both insane, because they kept asking my help to run shit.

Anyways, there’s this issue with the mages rebelling against the Circles and the Templars basically had gone rogue.  We needed help properly sealing the Maker’s asshole (because apparently the first time was only a temporary fix?) and oh yeah we were declared heretics by the Chantry.  Apparently they only do that to organizations and not individuals, because I’m surprised they took so long declaring me one.  Whatever. 

Asked the mages for help.  Decided to power up the Mark and see what happened.  Little catch though, turns out that Venatori (Vint cultists) “took in” the rebel mages.  Long story short there, head Venatori dude threw me and Dorian Pavus (really awesome guy) a year forward into time, we got back to regular time, and kicked his ass and sealed the Breach.  Don’t ask details, I don’t fucking know.  I’m no mage.

Apparently that pissed off the darkspawn wanna be god named Corypheus who was the mastermind behind the Conclave explosion (if you could call him a mastermind).  He and the Templars and Venatori attacked Haven and caught us by surprise, the others got out while I dumped a mountain of snow on them, apparently everyone thought I died.  Surprise motherfuckers, I didn’t.

Find Skyhold because Solas used his super elfy senses to find the place (for real though, Skyhold’s a pretty great place, well defendable and it’s a fucking castle), set up base camp there and get ourselves situated.  Save Crestwood from undead (almost as bad as darkspawn I’m telling you), meet more awesome people, blah blah blah, Inquisitor to the rescue again.  Oh yeah, I got named Inquisitor, that was not fun.  You’d have thought we talked about that before, but nah man.  Guess not.  “Surprise, you have two titles and no last name, congrats” ok then.

Met Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall.  Awesome guy, great drinking buddy.  Wardens are disappearing, followed that trail to Adamant Fortress.  Turns out Corypheus was manipulating the Calling and freaking them all out and somehow that translated into “let’s make a demon army with blood magic”.  And I thought I made bad decisions.  Kicked ass, stopped the ritual, fell into the Fade.  Again.

Going into the Fade isn’t fun, don’t do it.  0/10, would not recommend.  Find out the old Divine, Divine Justinia saved me not Andraste (surprise everyone, I was right it wasn’t Andraste) and the Wardens were using her as a sacrifice or something so Corypheus could enter the Black City and claim godhood.  Dude’s seriously delusional.  Warden Stroud stayed behind to hold off the demons letting us escape at the end of it all.  

Other note, formalities suck ass, parties more, and Orlesians the most.  Usually Josephine Montilyet is the one who dealt with that shit (especially after I told someone apparently important to go fuck a nug) but no, gotta have the Inquisitor at the parties.  Oh yeah, Orlais was also in a civil war because Gaspard wanted Celene’s throne.  Slimy bastard.  Anyways turns out there was an assassin in the group ready to dispose of Celene, turned out that assassin was Florienne her cousin.  Fun shit, seriously.  Assassins, that I can do.

Blah blah blah, sealing rifts, going dragon hunting, helping the little people and flipping off nobles, same shit different day.  Good times, kinda.

Elfy things.  Always with the fucking elfy things.  I like elves more than the next guy probably, but damn.  So much elf shit to sort through.  Turns out Fuckface Mcgee (that’s Corypheus, keep up) is wanting some shit at an old elfy place.  Alright, cool.  Wind up in the Arbor Wilds, searching for the Temple of Mythal.  Also something something red lyrium is bad shit, don’t do it.  Anyways, wind up there, run into some old ass elves.  Kick ass together, had to drink the Well of Sorrows or Corypheus gets his hands on it.  Apparently this holds a shit ton of old elven knowledge collected over the years and drinking binds you to their god Mythal who’s seen as a protector.  I wasn’t touching that shit thanks, pushed Morrigan in since she was so eager.

Not entirely sure what all Morrigan learned, not sure I wanna know honestly.  Anyways she learned how to turn into a dragon and is now bound to her mother (Who’s kinda Mythal?  Don’t ask I don’t really know.).  I want to be a dragon damnit.  

Get dragged back down south to the Frostback Basin.  Apparently the last Inquisitor’s last known location was there and we get to go searching for him.  It seemed like it could be useful and fun.  It wasn’t fun.  Meet friendly Avvar who were really nice, allied with them, turns out there’s this fortress with a gate encased in impenetrable ice.  Still wondering how they got supplies in and out of there really, never did sort that out.  Took care of that with some really awesome ancient Tevene tech that I wanna poke at more, and apparently Inquisitor Ameridan is 

1.  An elf2.  Had set out to slay Hakkon.

Guess what Hakkon is.  A god.  Specifically, a dragon-god.  Got the whole “by the way, I barely was able to contain him with my magic you can do the honors because I was too weak have fun” speech before Ameridan died.  Did that.  Went to the Deep Roads.

The Deep Roads fucking SUCK.  I am from Ferelden, I lived there through the Blight, my hometown was destroyed during it, I’ve seen more than my share of fucking darkspawn by the time I was 10.  No thanks.  Met Shaper Valta who’s really smart and the Legion of the Dead, we kept going deeper and deeper into the Deep Roads dealing with darkspawn.  Yuck.  Turns out the earthquakes jeopardizing the lyrium mines (which is why we were called, to secure this) was being caused by a Titan.  Who woke up or whatever it is they do.  Surprise, lyirum is Titan blood and this thing’s attacking us and shit and gotta kill it.  Alrighty.  Did that.

Kicked Corypheus’s ass.  Soundly.  We’ve defeated an actual god and not a raving lunatic, a Titan, and a shit ton of dragons.  This shit was in a bag.  Problem solved.  Except not.

Fast forward 2 years, no one’s happy with us.  Ferelden wants us disbanded, Orlais wants us to be “honor guard of the Divine” who ended up being our old spymaster Leliana.  Told them to go fuck themselves.  Uncover a Qunari plot to blow up the whole Winter Palace, deal with that and another dragon.  Run into Solas who disappeared after the battle with Corypheus.  Turns out he gave the orb to him because ~reasons~, elven gods are all assholes, and oh yeah got to go into the Crossroads (which is like a really weird world between worlds?) and yeah.  Solas is also apparently the elven god Fen’harel.  Surprise.  Lost my arm because the mark was trying to murder my ass again, and from what I’ve been told I stormed into the Exalted Council, threw the book at the Orlesian rep’s face (with surprising accuracy considering how wasted I was) and told them I’m disbanding the Inquisition and they can all go fuck themselves.

Best drunk decision ever.

And that’s the jist of what happened with the Inquisition.

[wolfoncaffeine]

the anchor’s weight

summary: the prologue, with first impressions and musings on the anchor. 3k words. ao3

_______________________________________________________________________

As soon as the last demon fell, the mage ran to her. “Quickly! Before more come through!”

Eirlana stared at him, at the bare-faced elven man who fought like a mage from neither clan nor Circle. “What —”

He grabbed her marked hand and raised it to the rift.

With a sound like snow crumbling down a mountain, a stream of green light snapped into place between the two. Pain erupted in her palm, radiating from the thing at its centre, absorbed her entire arm, and echoed to her toes, a bone-deep and burning ache that only worsened as the thunder rose to a shriek —

The rift exploded, its force throwing their arms back, and vanished.

She gaped. It’s gone. Fist clenched against the lingering pain, heart rate still at a gallop, she spun to him. “What did you do?”

“I did nothing,” he said, lips quirked. “The credit is yours.”

She shook her head. “Mine? How?”

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized that the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake. And it seems I was correct.”

A soft laugh, part relief and part surprise at his apparent calm, escaped her. “It also seems that you’re owed a little credit, at least.”

“Ah, well. Thank you.”

“So, in theory, the mark will also close —” she gestured toward the gigantic rend in the sky “— that.”

“Yes. In theory.” He tipped his head toward her. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

“Good to know,” the dwarf cut in. “Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” He ambled over with a grin, crossbow now holstered. “Varric Tethras — rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tag-along.” He winked at Cassandra and received a glare in response.

“Eirlana Lavellan,” she said, smiling in return, “mage, historian, and currently a prisoner.”

He laughed, short and sharp. “We’ve that last one in common.”

“You are not a prisoner,” Cassandra growled. “I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly that is no longer necessary.”

“And yet here I remain!” he replied, arms spread wide. “Lucky for you, considering current events.”

Cassandra’s glare sharpened. “Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but —”

Eirlana stepped in front of her, meeting her eyes. “Exactly. Judging by the number of demons we’ve already fought, anyone’s help would be welcome.”

Cassandra’s jaw tightened and Eirlana prepared to argue. Then, the warrior nodded and turned away, moving to inspect the surrounding ruins.

She conceded. To a suspected murderer. Eirlana looked at Varric, who whispered, “Half bark, half bite. Maybe it depends on who she’s talking to.”

The mage merely smiled and stepped forward when she turned to him. “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept,’” Varric added.

Eirlana smiled. “Ma serannas.”

“Unfortunately,” Solas continued, “the mark has worsened to the point where my efforts are no longer effective.”

Her mind blanked, just for a moment, and too many questions leaped up. She clenched her jaw, trapping the torrent of panic, and remembered Cassandra claiming this man could help. She glanced her hand, its jagged mark spitting sparks. “Closing the Breach will stop this from tearing me apart?”

“I believe so, though without an energy input equal to the explosion’s, more likely it will only be a short-term solution toward preserving your life and completely healing the Veil.”

“So I need a source to draw from to permanently seal it.”

“Yes, therefore —”

“You can speculate later,” Cassandra interrupted, gesturing at the mountain path. “Right now, our priority is stopping the demons.” After a sweeping glare, she continued on.

“Well,” Varric sighed, “best get moving before she decides to drag us all the way there.” He followed, trudging through the snow.

Eirlana glanced at Solas, who motioned her forward.

“Speaking of,” he began as they walked, “how is the mark?”

“Painful.” The mark continued to pulse with her every heartbeat, tingling her fingers and sending tremors up her arm.

“The pain was worse while closing the rift?”

“Yes.”

He hummed. “Closing the Breach, if only temporarily, should lessen the pain, as well as keep any more smaller rifts from tearing open.”

She glanced at him — expression neutral, eyes forward, tips of his ears red from the cold. “You seem…rather knowledgeable about what’s happening.”

“My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of one constrained to a Circle or clan.”

Something clicked and she turned to him. “Are you a dreamer?”

“I am.”

She grinned, a dozen questions already on her tongue. “That’s —”

In a flurry of snow, a terror demon crashed out of the trees, nearly knocking Varric down. He squawked and scrambled away, backing up toward her. On the other side of the monster and another twenty paces up the path, Cassandra spun.

Hearing her companions draw their weapons, Eirlana yanked her staff from its harness.

“Well, shit,” Varric muttered, as the demon stepped closer.

Cassandra, already charging down the path, wouldn’t reach the demon before it reached —

It lunged, one hand swiping for her face. Pulling on lightning, Eirlana swung her staff. As claws caught her cheek, crackling ice shot past her.

The demon collapsed in the snow, bearing gashes, crossbow bolts, and magical burns.

Solas watched its body dissipate. Such a waste. Even the losses of lesser spirits darken this world. He sighed, then turned to his companions.

Both the child of Stone and the human were visibly unharmed, while the Dalish mage had only received two shallow cuts beneath her left eye. And yet, she was dying. Visible to only mages, the Anchor’s magic crackled through her.

When he’d examined her the day prior, he’d found her organs already straining against the magic. Though his healing and wards had initially proven effective, the Anchor was steadily tearing them apart. Healing her and quelling the magic would be simple, if exhausting, yet doing so would risk someone realizing that his power was too great for an elven apostate, even one so widely travelled as he claimed.

Unless the Breach is sealed, she may die by nightfall, which is not ideal, but perhaps ‑ no. Corypheus has vanished, and the orb with him. I cannot seek him out now, without knowing the full extent of his power and without aid. Waiting, and learning if this mage is capable of wielding the Anchor, may be the best course.

He watched her brush her knuckles over her cut cheek and smear the trickling blood. Ironic that this ancient magister would be fooled by one of the Dalish. And even more so that one is even here. Certainly it would be easier to wait out a human conflict than involve themselves voluntarily. And for a mage to come, of all possibilities, when magic is so highly valued among her people.

When she turned and noticed his gaze, she frowned. “Solas, is something wrong?”

He considered her for a moment, Sylaise’s vallaslin etched in a watery blue on her copper-coloured skin. “No, though I am curious. You are Dalish, yet clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?”

She stiffened, shoulders going rigid, and her concern vanished beneath a blank expression. “No. I’m here of my own volition. Why do you ask?”

“I know how crucial magic is to your people. Is it not unwise for you to be here, when someone less important would suffice?”

Anger flashed into her face — eyes narrowing, jaw clenching. “I am not worth more than someone who isn’t a mage.”

“Of course,” he said, his level tone a counter to her bite. “Even so, mages are integral to your cultural heritage, as I understand it. Surely it was foolish to risk your life in attending the Conclave.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not Lavellan’s sole mage. It’s no great risk. My turn,” she added before he could argue that point. “You claim no ties to any clan, yet clearly you know about us. Any particular reason?”

“I have wandered many roads in my time and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.”

“And by ‘crossed paths’ you mean what, exactly?”

“I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition and distrust.”

Her expression softened a touch, even as she snorted. “Keepers who scorn and turn away city-elves do nothing to further our people, much as they may think differently.”

“Your people,” he said automatically.

She frowned, confused one moment and annoyed the next, lips twisting. “Different lifestyles doesn’t change our shared blood or shared history.”

“The Dalish I have met disagree.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “And the opinions of the few clans you met stand for all of us?”

“I…. No. I see your point.”

She relaxed slightly, fingers loosening where she gripped her sleeve.

"As much as I'm enjoying this debate," the dwarf interrupted, "I think we're testing the Seeker's patience." He glanced pointedly at the human, who had finished searching for any additional lurking demons and was stalking toward them.

The elf nodded. "Right. Let's go."

Chill seeped off the stone walls, often slick with ice. An occasional burning torch would stave off the cold a little, but only during the quick heartbeats Eirlana strode by. Even out of the wind and snow, it felt colder within the temple’s depths.

Old, latent magic, perhaps. Raan did fight spirits when she was here ten years ago, looking for that human relic. Or maybe the explosion caused —

The mark flared and pain burst from her palm. She doubled over, spasming limb pressed against her stomach and nails into her palm, and trembled. Her knees felt loose.

Fenedhis fenedhis fenedhis —

“Give me your hand.”

Addled by pain, she moved automatically, if slowly. “What happened?” she mumbled between one deep, conscious breath and the next, as fingers gripped her wrist.

A surge of magic enveloped her, drowning enough of the pain for her to straighten.

“The magic broke through my original wards,” Solas replied, face impassive. “These new ones will block more of the pain, at the cost of failing far sooner. An hour at most. We should hurry.”

Cassandra’s gaze flicked to her hand, concern in her furrowed brow. “Are you alright?”

Eirlana nodded. “The sooner the Breach is closed, the better.”

As Cassandra strode ahead, checking around the tight corner for demons, Varric whispered, “How're you really holding up?

“I’m fine. The wards are blocking the mark.” All that remained was a headache, likely stress-induced and steadily building.

“No need to play the hero. We’ll carry you up the mountain if we have to. Well, Cassandra will. I’ll shout encouraging words.”

She smiled, hoping it didn’t come off as a grimace. “I’d appreciate it.”

Another few turns brought them outside the temple and to soldiers in need of rescuing from demons. Not trusting her aim, Eirlana hung back, maintaining barriers, and sealed the rift when the fight ended.

Her headache continued to thicken, blurring the pines and mountains together, while the mark’s magic pushed consistently against the wards, nearly numbing her hand, and she followed her companions’ voices and footsteps in a daze, squinting against the sunlight, bright despite the clouds and —

“Andraste’s ashes.”

Jolted alert by the strange curse, she looked up and froze.

Huge spires of dark stone loomed above them, pulsing with veins of green light and angled away from the explosion's centre. From where the Breach lingered, its stream of light visible between the jutting rocks.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Solas said.

“What’s left of it,” Varric muttered, as they passed the crumbling remains of the temple’s walls, some barely of height with him, and the corpses, burned black and frozen in place, terror on their faces.

“That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you.” Cassandra’s voice was quiet, sounding almost awestruck. “They say a woman was in the rift behind you, but no one knows who she was.”

Eirlana frowned. “No one recognized her?”

“She was not recognizable,” Cassandra clarified. “The soldiers claimed she shone so brightly her features were obscured.”

“A spirit?”

Solas hummed. “It is possible.”

“If your memories return, perhaps we will know for certain,” Cassandra said and lead them down a flight of stairs and around a corner to —

A massive rift, hanging above the empty crater and rumbling like an avalanche, and streams of green light linking it to the Breach, high above in the clouds. On the ground, among the spires of regular stone, were ones that glowed a deep red.

“Mythal’enaste,” Eirlana swore, skin prickling, and her headache spiked. Vision blurring, she moved to the banister and gripped the stone, stabilizing herself without leaning any weight on it. After several slow breaths, her sight cleared.

Cassandra’s boots shifted the rubble as she approached. “Lavellan?”

“Yes?”

“This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

She took a deep breath, turned, and nodded. “Get me to the Breach and I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Solas shook his head. “No. This rift is the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

Swallowing the “fenedhis” crawling up her throat, Eirlana nodded. “Lead the way.”

Cassandra did, with Varric warning them away from the red stone — red lyrium, he called it.

I’ll have to ask about that, Eirlana thought, edging around a large piece, gaze turned away from its harsh light. Lyrium is definitely not red.

“You seem to be in pain. Are the wards not holding?” Solas asked, walking beside her.

“Headache.”

He frowned and gestured for her to stop. “Seeker, a moment,” he called, before turning to her and raising his hands, healing magic gathering on his fingertips. “May I?”

“Please.”

He pressed his fingers gently against her temples and cast, flooding her vision with blue light. She dropped her gaze, eyes half-closed against the glare.

A chill akin to the Minanter’s water flowed over her, seeped beneath her skin, and began carrying away the ache. She sighed, jaw unclenching, shoulders dropping, and waited as the magic worked every bit of the pain away.

When he removed his hands, she looked up. “Ma seran ‑ thanks."

“Ma isala halani, dirthera,” he replied, an annoyed edge to his voice, and continued walking.

She stared after him, barely registering what he’d said, then jogged after to catch up. “You speak Elven?”

“Indeed."

‘Indeed,’ he says, as if speaking fluent Elven is trivial.

"Why are you surprised? You thanked me before in Elven, did you not?"

She frowned, thinking back. "I ‑ yes, I did. Slip of the tongue. I've rarely had a reason to say 'ma serannas' in Common before."

"You've never left your clan before, I gather."

"As I understand it, there's little reason to risk the life of a valued First for mere trips into town." He grunted at that. Swallowing another jab, she added with less of an edge, "Firsts aren't permitted to travel away from the clan if it isn't necessary for our studies."

"Misguided, though understandable."

She suppressed a sigh. Fluent Common, too, in his strange accent. Well-read and widely-travelled, but vague about where he's studied and what he's learned. I see why clans would be hesitant. But to deny him completely, gain nothing, and lose a potential ally?

“Solas.” At his name, he looked down and she caught his gaze, lifting her marked hand. “If I sur—” She cut herself off, quashing that thought. “When this rift is sealed, will you tell me what you know about this?”

For a moment, he remained silent, merely returning her steady gaze. “Ma nuvenin,” he said softly.

She smiled. “Ma serannas.”

The pride demon fell, shaking the bowl of the crater with its weight.

Wincing, the elf staggered to her feet, one arm wrapped around her torso. The demon’s swipe had likely fractured a rib, if not broken several.

“Now!” the Seeker shouted, sword still in hand. “Seal the rift!”

She staggered forward to stand beneath the rift and wedged the butt of her staff into the rubble at her feet.

To steady herself, Solas realized, when she gripped it so tightly her knuckles whitened and raised the Anchor to the rift.

She spasmed when mark and rift connected with a roar, yet held herself up as the Anchor’s magic shoved against the tear, stitching it back together, achingly slow —

The rift resisted, yanking on the Anchor, and the wards snapped.

The elf screamed, the sound barely heard beneath the ear-splitting whine of straining magic.

Almost too late, Solas cast a barrier over her.

The rift collapsed, its released energy rushing outwards and buffeting every being in the crater. Solas leaned into the wind, watching the link to the Breach shoot upwards, collide with it, and vanish with a second blast. He peered up, fingernails biting into his staff, and — the Breach was closed.

For now. He sighed and turned his gaze to the elf, sprawled on the ground ten paces from where she’d stood, tossed by the blast and unmoving. Even though his barrier had held, closing the rift could have exhausted her body beyond repair.

He strode over to her, followed by the dwarf, and reached for her throat. “She yet lives,” he announced, pulse drumming under his thumb.

“Good to hear. This shit looks far from over.”

Unfortunately, he thought, releasing the barrier and beginning to search her body for damage. No doubt Corypheus will retaliate, in the hopes of stealing back the Anchor ‑ yes, two broken ribs and a massive bruise. He cast a healing spell and she twitched, groaning, as the breaks slowly mended.

“She gonna be alright?”

“Yes. The spell will only mend the breaks, however, not restrengthen the weakened bones. Only time is capable of such.”

The dwarf grunted.

Once her bones were knit, Solas lifted the elf, her unbruised side against his torso.

She seems a capable mage, though inexperienced in battle, he thought, rejoining the soldiers. However, if as many rifts have torn open elsewhere as here, that will be remedied by default. And it must be remedied. She must remain alive to serve as a distraction for Corypheus. If she dies too soon and I am forced to reveal myself in order to collect the Anchor….

He looked down at her — marked hand curled into a fist where it lay in her lap. For all intents and purposes, she is the Anchor now. She must live.

[maythemarvelbewithyou]

The Chosen (Black Dagger Brotherhood #15) & The Thief (Black Dagger Brotherhood #16) by J.R.Ward book review

Xcor, leader of the Band of Bastards, convicted of treason against the Blind King, is facing a brutal interrogation and torturous death at the hands of the Black Dagger Brotherhood. Yet after a life marked by cruelty and evil deeds, he accepts his soldier’s fate, his sole regret the loss of a sacred female who was never his: the Chosen Layla. Layla alone knows the truth that will save Xcor’s life. But revealing his sacrifice and his hidden heritage will expose them both and destroy everything Layla holds dear—even her role of mother to her precious young. Torn between love and loyalty, she must summon the courage to stand up against the only family she has for the only man she will ever love. Yet even if Xcor is somehow granted a reprieve, he and Layla would have to confront a graver challenge: bridging the chasm that divides their worlds without paving the way for a future of even greater war, desolation, and death. As a dangerous old enemy returns to Caldwell, and the identity of a new deity is revealed, nothing is certain or safe in the world of the Black Dagger Brotherhood, not even true love... or destinies that have long seemed set in stone.

New enemies rise from the shadows in the next novel of the New York Times bestselling paranormal romance series the Black Dagger Brotherhood. Having allied themselves with the Band of Bastards, the Brotherhood is committed now more than ever to eradicating the Lessening Society. Recovering from their most recent battle against the last of the lessers, the Brotherhood comes to realize that the fight against their enemies is far from over. Throe, Xcor’s former second in command, is using an ancient tome to summon a new army engineered by a force more dangerous and evil than the Omega. And now the brothers of the Black Dagger Brotherhood will be tested both at home and on the battlefield.

I am having trouble even trying to process what just happened here. How is it even possible for me to review a book in one of my most-beloved series of all time,when I cringed nearly the whole time. I mean, sure, the BDB has had cringe-worthy and frustrating moments before, but not on this scale.

I loved Qhuinn with my whole heart but after this...He had a whole lot of hell to deal with in his life, and no one to teach him how to get past it. Blay, on the other hand, had the nurturing and loving that was necessary to shape him into a decent vampire. But all of that went out the window when he pulled a gun on the mother of his child and shot up a room that his children were in.And Layla was the one who needed to exit? If I were Wrath, both of their asses would have been tossed out on the street  and I am on the mother side.

I didn't even care about the Blay drama,which was completely unnecessary when there was Layla drama going on...too many open plots going.  Q went off and said something he didn't mean to Blay.. Who hasn't done that? Are we just going to ignore that the he shot a damn gun in the house??? Layla should have been spitting angry.

Layla & Xcor: Horrible. Boring romance ever.Tohr: Turns into a raging psycho asshole with Qhuinn. Vishous: Decides it's time to have an affair. Jane gives no fucks about his shit.

Trez & Therese :It's too damn soon. It's been a few months and Trez already kissed Therese. I don't know how J.R. Ward is going to play this. Either Therese is a Selena look alike or Selena reincarnated. If she is a look alike then it will be like Trez is using her for her looks and I will hate that. If she is Selena, unless Lassiter tells Trez it will still fill like he is using her because she looks like his dead shellan. IDK but I'm going to try to keep an open mind.

Okay so I am going to try really, really hard to articulate the way this book made me feel.

See the last few books in the BDB series have been double edge swords for me. In these recent books J.R. Ward has taken much beloved past characters and wrote them doing things so out of character for their personality. For example Tohr who I loved for most of the series, turned into an unlikable ass wipe since he came back after his Shellan's death. I understand Wellsie death ripped him apart, but I am so sick of feeling like Autumn is his consolation prize. The way he treated and still at times treats his new shellan Autumn is so bad.

Ward took my beloved V and made him selfish and ugly in my eyes. I can't fucking believe he had the balls or ball in his case to even think about cheating let alone set up a fuck session with one of his old playthings. Am I suppose to be comforted by the fact that he didn't follow through on his cheating?Now I'm gonna get a little personal here. I fucking hate cheating with everything in me.

 I loved Assail in this book. He was great. I also really loved his cousins and I hope they get a book. Vovo was funny as hell and really made the book. Sola on the other hand was just okay for me in past books and in this one she came off judgy and cold.

I could not fucking believe she was like "can I call him or something?" and then was like "sorry not sorry but I can't go." Vovo makes her go and when she gets to Assail's side she actually tells him "I LOVE YOU!"  Now I tried to get over her refusing to go to him at first. Even though it was cold blooded, but then she acted like a hateful ass hat when she found out he was a vampire. I really wondered what the fuck Assail seen in that judgy bitch. I didn't feel their love at all. I felt Assail got screwed in the mate department. On top of that, it didn't feel like a hea. It felt like an unfinished love story.

Vitoria was a lame, useless character. She had no point, was boring, and took up way too many pages for my liking. Now I am very interested in Murhder and Jo. I can't wait to read more on them. I just hope Murhder doesn't start too much shit between Xhex and JM. I love them and I don't want their HEA messed with.

[fourth-axis]

DA:I and a whole lot of elfy shit (previously)

Leading the inquisition as a pointy-eared mage felt a bit like putting on two left shoes and your armor backwards, a deeply ill-fitting suit further cemented every time someone asked if you BELIEVE and the options on your table were to: - conform - dodge the question - tell them to stick the Maker up their ass 

but then, BUT THEN the Arbor Wilds happened and hooo boy! *stuffs Sera into a trunk* let’s talk elfy shit.

the REVELATIONS, the minds BLOWN, history SHATTERED, gods TALKED TO!! bullet list time:

i’m pretty certain that singularly devastating moment in the beginning when you inquisitor asks what a temple of mythal is, is a glitch and a bug and i will accept no other alternative

also Morrigan schooling me on eluvians....... where was my elfy “i know this shit” option?

the fall of Arlathan was caused by ancient elves warring among themselves and Tevinter pretty much just swooped in to feed on a corpse ahahahaHAHWHAT

at this point i’m assuming the elven pantheon was just a bunch of really powerful mages. lbr here, there’s no gods around, Andraste herself was probably a mage too and “the maker” a spirit from the fade 

and i’m MAD CACKLIN at the possible irony of Tevinter molding itself into a slavedriven mageocracy after the old elven empire because--

the face tattoos are slave markings

??????

???????????

exchanging local slavers for foreign slavers. oh man this race has 0% luck! Trespasser better hold some answers here. i like them markings, they look cool :<

Flemeth carries to soul of Mythal

“You cannot posses the unwilling.” Well if that doesn’t point to Morrigan being the next vessel then i don’t know what does

and by next vessel, i mean right there in the epilogue where Flemeth is interacting with the eluvian

don’t even talk to me about Loki Solas rn, i don’t know what to think other than painful betrayal and a thousand questions

when she’s all you do The People proud, i’m like tears in my eyes bro, this is monumental

the all-around best use of inquisition points was grabbing history knowledge and arcane knowledge. the utter satisfaction of summing Flemeth’s story in one sentence and having her sarcastically comment on it was The Best™

that awkward moment when no one in your party gives a shit or likes that you performed elven rituals, except for an Ancient Egg and a Vint....... y’all.

...NO I’m NOT done! i built you Andrastean fucks a chantry in the garden, i gave you a place to practice your religion while i had no love for it, and they can’t even muster decency when their inquisitor enters his own place of worship? get off!

we’re totaly ignoring that ppl were dying outside while i solved puzzles. absolutely irrelevant. 

ok but telling Solas and Morrigan to get a room when they tried to outnerd the other 8′D lmao perfect

figuring out who get’s to drink from The Well of Freaky Shit was a doozy, and it’s gonna keep haunting me through every playthrough

i refused because RP reasons, but it probably would have been the best fitting choice to drink. but when the Egg gives you such a stalwart NO then you know something’s rotten here. and it kinda was. kinda.

and yet, it also fits very nicely with Morrigan from a player perspective

also it gave me a chance to say “LOL now you gotta listen to your mom haha ;D”

i love my character so much, he even threw bear puns in Stone-Bear Hold. Cassandra’s groan was music to my ears

speaking of bear puns, the Jaws of Hakkon dlc was a wild loretastic ride that gets two thumbs up and more fuel for my chantry disdain

oh, what’s that? the first inquisitor and founder of the Seekers of Truth was an elven mage too? and history the Chantry buried all knowledge of him? and they abused his rite of tranquility to lobotomize mages? 

oh wow. what a shock. i am truly surprised. ಠ_ಠ

the descent was good too. the moment i saw lyrium veins looked like actual cardiovascular veins i was screaming “we’re WALKING INSIDE A TITAN!” it took my character a while to catch on but boy was i glad to hear him say it

Titan blood! but who killed it--them? the elven gods? lyrium hunger intensifies and all that??

????

Coryphishit was such a steamrolled battle though, i barely even felt it. after such a hype train of lore discovery, his end was so anticlimactic, and the game’s (first) end was so... happy? it just didn’t feel right. it wrapped up with a bow too nicely (minus Solas, wtf man...) and i didn’t even lose an arm. I was mourning that arm the moment it got the anchor so imagine my surprise when the game “ends” and not only is my hand still there but it’s not even killing me? that i know off... clearly the true ending is in Trespasser but that doesn’t erase the fact that Coryphilulz was just not a good villain. He needed more screen time post Haven destruction.

The final party was v nice and a bit sad, as more than half of your inner circle had that “we’ll be leaving soon” vibe :< listening to Varric talk of Kirkwall made me so Hawke-nostalgic, Leliana would be off to murder the Chantry into a new era of tolerance, Cass i hope goes to rebuild the Seekers proper, Blackwall on one of those redemption journeys, Sera off to do Jenny shit probably, Cole and Bull might be sticking around at least, and Curly and Josie. that’s a nice thought. Viv is def going back to Orlais to play some stone cold games and eat fancy cakes, and Dorian is off to get political in Tevinter. 

...that’s a one way ticked to assasiantion if i ever heard one. good intention bro, but i can’t let you do that *inquisitor rolls 20 on emotional blackmail* Dorian: well i guess i could stay a little longer Damn right you will. 

the last shot you get in the quarters, that balcony sunset hug triumvirate, it made me want to fling myself into the fucking sun. it was just so---so---*clenches fist* cute.

i gotta say, at this point (game finished, minus Trespasser) i can’t imagine any other race filling the shoes of the inquisitor with quite as much payoff as an elf mage. 

[captusmomentum]

A Mirror Darkly Chapter 2 (redux)

I’d been unhappy with a section of this chapter for months so I finally sat down, did some editting and removed it. 

I’d consider this a rough draft of this new version of it frankly since I still need to go through and read it over but I’m not in the mood to do that today so I’m posting this here now and when I’ve done my read through I’ll swap it out with the old version on ao3 and maybe here depending on how different it ends up being from this iteration. 

chapter 1 | AMD masterpost

Getting to her apartment had been interesting. Solas had been keenly interested in her rental car, he'd apparently seen cars in the Fade and was deeply interested how they worked. She wasn't much help on that but did her best and informed him that they could look up a better explanation later and they could teach him how to drive if he wanted. She'd attempted to explain the basics of a radio then asked what he'd like to listen to, music or talk radio. He'd picked talk radio instantly (to her dismay) and she'd flipped from her aux cord to FPR. She was beginning to think Solas was probably as insatiable about learning as Curiosity was, which meant she'd be giving more awful explanations in the future. Hopely not in elvhen, it was difficult enough as it is to explain this shit without doing it in a language that hadn't had any new vocabulary in a few thousand years.  

The ride had been uneventful, Solas had asked a few small questions here or there but mainly listened to the radio intensely. He seemed to be able to understand at least some of it, or at least get the jist which was heartening. It got things moving faster when they had at least some familiarity with common from the Fade. Before long they were parking and getting out of the car.

And her anxiety immediately kicked in the second she realized all the shit they'd have to navigate to get from the parking lot to her apartment and she'd reached out and snatched his hand without thinking. It had been immediately mortifying and she still wanted to punch herself in the face for it, but she'd kept holding on since the only thing worse than that would have been if she'd let go right after grabbing it like an asshole. She wasn't trying to be patronizing and she was sure he was more than capable of walking without being lead along by the hand. It was just--

You could never be too safe, it was dark and while there wasn't a lot traffic it was still there. There were a lot things that could go wrong when you lacked the kind of background cues gained from living in the time period. Besides, she always held hands for safety with her friends when they crossed the street because she wasn't a bad friend. He'd started slightly, looking down at her in surprise and she'd just tried to play it off as totally natural. Just you know, what the young folk do these days.

When they'd made it inside he'd done his best to be unobtrusive and polite but she could see he was analyzing her sorry little shoebox. Self-consciousness overtook her instantly and compelled her to explain this was temporary living and not her real home like that would help somehow. Then she'd set up the couch bed (deeply embarrassing to do with an audience), quickly explained the bathroom, asked if he'd like a change of clothes before realizing there was no way she had anything even near his size, gave up on life, turned to her room and remembered the doors to it where glass orlesian doors so he'd be able to see her have a meltdown and just went to bed praying she’d be kidnapped or killed in the night.

Sadly, she had not been, it was now morning and they were heading off to the office to get him sorted out. Inanallas had woken up before her alarms which she supposed, bleakly, was better than sleeping through all of them even if that was more fun. She'd gotten dressed in a blindspot of her room and then quietly slipped out into the living room. Solas had been still asleep, partially sprawled and very clearly shirtless which had several sirens screeching in her head so she rocketed into the bathroom then woke him when she got out which had been it's own harrowing experience.

He'd woken up like an ideal guest, a little muffled and politely mild but it meant she'd had to touch a stranger's bare shoulder and make them not asleep and that was just too much.  She'd then retreated to the tiny kitchen and busied herself making breakfast to give him his privacy. They'd then eaten said breakfast and gotten in the car again all with just minor conversation. He seemed like he was still groggy and more than content to just watch her every move like a panther writing their thesis as she ran around the apartment getting ready from his place eating cereal at the table.

The offices they were renting were in a building that was maybe 15 minutes away from her place. They were small and very basic, her group never put much time into decorating since they'd only be in one location for as long as that project took. Unless Thenvunin was on the team then he made a valiant effort to make things look less drab. She did not take his hand this time as they walked in, took the elevator up to the 3rd floor and made their way into the rented suite of rooms.

The walls were bare of decoration but chock full of haphazardly pinned up maps, papers, pictures, notes and a single calendar. Desks were pushed up against walls with mountains of papers next to or on them along with small attempts at personalization, the center was dominated by a series of tables they used for pretty much everything which also had things on it. There were a few people in milling about, only a handful of people worked here every day, the rest of them tended to split their time between here and the site. In the back was a small kitchenette in another room next to the only two real offices there. Professors Hightower and Rousseau's office was still dark which was a relief, she didn't want to be victim to her Disapproving Stare or lectured by his pompous ass this early in the morning. The other office's door was open and the lights on, her heart sank a little. Yes, she had to talk to at least one of the project managers about this but she'd hoped for maybe a little more time.  

She greeted people as they went through to the open office, trying to ignore the looks at Solas who was just a step behind her like a studious shadow and prayed it wasn't Merrill who in there.

Merrill was in there.  

Along with Curiosity, Their boss, a tall, dark haired ancient elven woman who was usually pretty reasonable and hopefully hadn’t decided to not be reasonable today.

They look up from the documents on Curiosity's desk at her at unison.  

Two pairs of owlish eyes locked with another pair of owlish eyes and their 12 menacing brethren.

Merrill expression shifts to confusion at the two of them while, to her surprise, Curiosity is zeroed in on Solas, face contorting with increasing alarm. The older woman is the first to act, shooting up from her chair and walking straight over to Solas. The two say nothing for a moment, just staring intensely at each other like they’re trying to memorize each others face or something. The air becomes more and more charged as Curiosity becomes more and more furious. Suddenly she smacks his shoulder, then smacks it again, and again, he flinches each time as the blows get harder.  

"Where have you— Why did you— Why couldn't you—! I was worried! I looked—! I am going to— You stupid idiot! Why didn’t you tell me were you went!"

The two younger elves just awkwardly stand there watching them and catching each other’s eyes to shoot nervous looks, totally lost at sea. Solas looks positively heartbroken, doing nothing to defend himself against her while Curiosity looks like she might cry at any moment. Solas finally seems to work up the strength to try and reply to her fury.

“Curiosity, I am so sor—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish as Curiosity pulls him into a crushing hug, burying her face in his shoulder. He looks about as shocked as if she'd stabbed him instead and after a long moment he hesitantly hugs her back.

Curiosity's voice escapes from the fabric of his shirt muffled. "It's fine now. We'll talk later."

Inanallas can see his throat bob as finally, his arms tighten around her as his hold become more desperate.  

It all feels very private and Inanallas suddenly feels very intrusive standing so closely to them and looks away. Merrill shuffles awkwardly near Curiosity's desk not sure whether to be happy or concerned or what. After a long moment Curiosity finally releases him and pulls back enough to look at him and then Inanallas.

She flips back into common with ease. "So where did you find him?"

She blinks, she’d forgotten about all that for a second.

"Ah, the ruins?"

"Just now?"

"No... Um, last night..."

"You were in the ruins in the middle of the night?!" Merrill snaps in her First Voice.

Inanallas cringes and folds into herself. "Yes."

Curiosity crosses her arms. "Why?"

Inanallas grimaces. "I dunno? Seemed like a good idea at the time?"  

“It seemed like a—!” Merrill exclaims. "You could have been hurt! Or arrested or a hundred other things!"

“Apparently their warnings about her weren’t just for the Fade," Curiosity sighes. "Don't do it again. Or-- do but bring me with you."

"Or me!" Merrill interjects abandoning her spot at the desk completely and joining them at the doorway. “Or both of us! You should never go somewhere like that alone! What were you thinking!"

“She just said she wasn’t so there’s no reason to ask that. But she’s not dead or anything so let’s not worry about it too much for right now. We can think of a good punishment later, Patience and Action will have some ideas I think. For now let’s focus on Solas."  

Her heart sinks at the mention of her spirit friends. Shit. They’re going to flay her alive for wandering off , this is exactly the sort of thing they’ve been telling her not to indulge in since she was like, 6. But this is not the complete annihilation she was dreading— though she suspects that she’s getting off relatively easy because of the older elves' familiarity.

"So did you find anything else interesting or just him?"  

"Just him."  

"Sleeping?"

“No. We met in the main hall."

Curiosity hums, Inan can see the thoughts sliding around in her head but cannot for the life of her guess what they are.

“Right— Inanallas, Merrill, why don't you start getting all his paperwork in order? I'm going to talk to Pride for a while.” Curiosity addresses them but her gaze, while far off, is fixed on Solas.

Inanallas lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding, she’s safe and the worst of this mess is off her plate for now. “Right. Sure. No problem."

She makes to leave, Merrill falling in step with her, when Curiosity seems to come back to the real world and places a hand on her shoulder.  

"Thank you, for finding him. He's a pain in the neck but he's my pain in the neck."

Inanallas can’t help but smile weakly up at the taller woman before turning away and looking at the floor, suddenly deeply self conscious. Curiosity is nice, she’s one of the few ancient elves that doesn’t keep treating them all like children and she’s always been a good friend to her. She’s glad she could do something for her, even if it was unintentional.  

“Don’t mention it.” She mutters to a carpet tile.  

Curiosity gives her a squeeze then releases her and the two younger elves leave the room. There’s a click as the door closes behind them and Inanallas can’t help but look back, just for a moment.

Once they’re maybe 15 minutes into the relocation process Merrill’s anger finally gives way to her curiosity.  

“So... he was very tall. And bald."

Inan looks up from the spreadsheet of apartment info she’d been glaring at. “I know! That’s what I thought when I saw him!"

“And how do they know each other?! They’re obviously close, do you think they’re friends? Or Siblings!—Oh but that’s not possible Curiosity was a spirit. She doesn’t have siblings least not the way we think of them, I suppose other spirits of Curiosity would be her relatives wouldn’t they? But if they are siblings I should introduce myself properly, since I’m dating his sister. I should probably do that even if they’re just friends, it’s just rude not to."

“I don’t know!” Inan replies in a rush. “You’ll have to ask them— He’s a former spirit too so maybe that’s part of it. I didn’t want to pry too much, I was already really suspicious and I didn’t want to get blown up so I just sort of kept to myself. Frankly I’m not sure how family trees work for spirits, I don’t know if they even really have anything like that— it’s never really come up."

Merrill gasps excitedly. “He’s dreaming born too?! How interesting! I didn’t know that— well of course I didn’t I just met him, but he didn’t give off that air you know, of spirityness. Like Curiosity and the others do."

“Well he didn’t really talk much earlier did he? I didn’t notice anything too spirity last night but we basically went back to my place and right to bed."

Merrill puts a hand to her chest and smiles cheekily. “Oooo Inanallas~!"

she smacks her arm. “What was I going to do? Make him sleep in my car?"

Merrill giggles. “Oh no you couldn’t do that. He’s much too tall, he’d never fit! He’d get all mushed in there."

Inan nods like this is all very serious. “Exactly. I put him on the sofa bed and that seemed to work out fine— at least he didn’t complain about it."

Merrill pouts a little. “Oh that’s not as fun."

“What? Were you really hoping for something different?"

“Well, I thought it’d be interesting if it was more like Varric’s books. The whole ‘meeting a mysterious stranger at night’ thing you know, it’s just like how all his stories start. It’s good though that it’s not I suppose, otherwise it’d be dirty or half the town would die. Or both. Poor Aveline, her life has been so hard."

Inan laughs. “Merrill, I don’t think we need anyone’s help fucking things up, we manage it pretty well as is between the 3 of us."

“I don’t know, we’re not as good at is as Hawke."

They laugh and get back to work, occasionally chatting as they do now that the air between them has cleared. There’s a lot to do to get an Elvhen’an elf squared away, lots of forms to file mainly, most of which are shoddily put together and a headache to get handled properly. The system for how to deal with them is new and in most countries barely any of it works half the time and no one knows how to process it. The two of them are rarely involved with the entire process, that’s the job of the social services branch of Vhenas’aravas, but they have helped with the intake process often since they are frequently there when the dreamers wake up.

Getting him housing is easy, he’s the only person who needs it right now and there’s plenty of open places, but the paperwork for citizenships, IDs, healthcare and all that kind of shit takes longer and are the worst.

They’re both glaring over a particularly incomprehensible form from Nevarra when Inan’s phone goes off. Quickly she snatches it up from where she’d dumped it on the table, curses and answers.

A positively livid aristocratic voice starts up the second she takes the call.

“—Where in the Blazes are you? It’s 11am, you should have been here 2 hours ago.”

She cringes. “I’m sorry Dorian, I had to come into the office first thing and things are all hectic and weird—"

“And why, pray tell, is this?”

“Well, I sort of stayed out after we left the bar last night—"

“—And ended up drunk in an alley? Or did you get another, uglier, tattoo than the rest and are now being flayed by Curiosity for it? I’d say coming back from a one night stand but frankly I’d consider that one a miracle at this point.” There’s a bit of a chuckle at the end there at his own wit.

Ass.  

“—I went to explore the site on my own and ending up running into an ancient elf.” she grits out.

“What? You—! I cannot believe this, you went and committed a minor crime without me? I’m hurt, I thought were we friends."

“Dorian you were throughly sloshed when I left there’s no way I’d take you anywhere."

He sniffs imperiously. “I’ll have you know I’m a high functioning alcoholic and I will not stand for this slander."

“Dorian.” She groans out in a impressively bad impression of his own accent.

“Ugh. Fine, but next time you break and enter you are bringing me. So tell me about this elf, I assume you abandoned me the morning to get them all squared away?"

“Yes. His name is Solas and he’s apparently a friend of Curiosity’s or something like that."

“Oh now that is interesting, I think I’m even more upset you left me behind now. Is that all you have?"

“Pretty much, everything else I know about him is that he’s tall, bald and seems pretty smart."

“Bald?” He sounds like the very thought of the idea is offensive. “He can’t be that smart if he thought that was a good look."

“I dunno, I thought it looked okay..."

She can hear the shit eating grin in his voice as a chuckle bubbles out from the speaker.

“Oh? Is he handsome? A paragon of ancient elven beauty? I can’t imagine he’s more attractive than Thenvunin…"

This is not really something she’d considered, nor planned to talk about, if/when she had. Ever.

“Well, he’s certainly got a face so he’s got that going for him. Look— I don’t know Dorian, attractiveness is subjective and I didn’t take notes for an interrogation you’d have to make this call yourself."

He laughs. “Alright, Alright. I would’ve anyway, then judged you for your answer after I did. I suppose I will let you off the hook for now since you’ve at least abandoned me for a respectable reason.”

There’s a change in the vibe coming from his side of the line, more gentle and serious.

“Clever banter aside, you are okay right? That was a very dangerous thing to do. I was worried sick when you didn’t show up, you’re never that late without letting me know.”

Bless Dorian, he was an insufferably good person sometimes. She relaxes to match his own change, a twinge of guilt in her chest.

“I know and I’m sorry about that. I should have let you know what was up but I’m fine I swear. I’ll catch up with you about work and all this shenanigans later today okay?”

He hums warmly. “Alright. But! You’re going to have to buy me dinner to apologize."

“Dorian I will buy you all the dinners a very poor elf can afford for the rest of your beautiful life just because you deserve it.”

“Oh Inanallas~! You’re such a charmer! Sh, don’t say anymore or I think I may swoon.”

She can’t help but laugh at that. The dork.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Me? Ridiculous? This coming from the elf who looks like a cartoon villain and is scared of her own shadow?”

“Goodbye, Dorian.” She all but cries to the heavens.

“Goodbye, Innie."

She makes a face and hangs up. Maker, how did he make ‘Innie’ sound exponentially more embarrassing than it was. His very existence was like a perfect, charming, delightful curse against all livingkind. She puts her phone back down and turns back to Merrill.

She sighs with the weigh of ages. “So where were we?"

Merrill giggles. “So I take it Dorian’s not mad then? We did sort of leave him in the lurch."

“He’s fine. I’m sure he’s enjoying his unmitigated abuse of power with all of us gone."

Merrill looks dreamily at the ceiling. “I hope he’s making an intern fan him with a great big leaf."

It’s a long time before the door to Curiosity’s office opens and the two older elves come out looking like… Something. Inan doesn’t know it’s not really her specialty. Solas looked, bland? Vague? Stoic????? While Curiosity just looked like her normal determined self. She walked over to their little war zone of papers Solas trailing along a bit behind.

“How’s it going?”

“About as well as you’d expect.”

Curiosity takes a moment to look over what they have so far, leaning over their shoulders and sifting through piles like a very nosy bird.

“Well, the immediate things are done, so good enough for now.”

She straightens up again. “First things first, we should get him settled in own place with his own things so he’s not stuck on your sofa in the same outfit again.”

Inan looks awkwardly over Solas who seems just as uncomfortable.

“Okay sure.”

Curiosity pulls out her wallet and then takes out the company credit card. She hands it to Inan who takes it with much more reverence then with which it was given.

“Here, go get him into his apartment and then get him some supplies and things. Merrill and I will take what we have of his paperwork and send it to Antiva for them to work on then talk to Dorian and Agnes and see if they need one of us to cover for you.”

She got up and put her things away in her bag.

“Okay I’ll give you a call when if we have a question or something I guess then.”

“Alright, be safe you two.”

Inanallas turned to face Solas and gave her best attempt at a non awkward smile.

“Shall we go?”