#the only new ones are of my inquisitor but that was just mucking around

[jacquiarno]

Dragon Age, my favourite game series, how I've waited so long for the next game, which is only a day away now. 🥹

Hero of Ferelden Serena Surana, Champion of Kirkwall Anne Hawke, The Inquisitor Ashani Lavellan. 💖

[dragons-and-ages]

I am well aware that I’m delusional, but here’s how Varric-mancers can still win in 2024

But he’s not a companion.

Yeah, so? While he may not be an active companion, he appears to be taking an advisory role. Perhaps he’s a liaison between the Veilguard and the Inquisition remnants. If he is an advisor, that wouldn’t preclude him from being a romance option. See: Josie and Cullen.

But BioWare is going to kill him off.

ngl this prospect scares me.

I’ll admit that he is giving one-week-to-retirement vibes. But maybe he’s just tired of being in the field after so many years. He’s getting older; He doesn’t need to be slogging through the muck with us when his most formidable weapons are pen and paper.

But if he was going to be romanceable, he’d have been an option in an earlier game.

Not necessarily. Again, see: Cullen. It took three games for Cullen to be romanceable, which made sense! Cullen, as a character, was very much NOT mentally in a place that he would be open to romance in DAO and DA2. I’d argue the same for Varric, which I’ll get into below.

But it makes more sense for Varric to romance Hawke.

It’s true that Hawke and Varric are besties. Varric is clearly ride-or-die for Hawkes of all flavors. Varric has also known Hawke longer than any of the other protagonists. However, during those formative years in Kirkwall, Varric was very much still stuck on Bianca. (And let’s not deny that Hawkes of all flavors are also messy). Varric built an intentional wall between himself and Hawke or, you could argue, between himself and the character, the Champion of Kirkwall. See, Varric is a writer and he has a way of idealizing and romanticizing life and the people around him.

Being the teller of the story allows him to be in some kind of control.

Ok, but Varric couldn’t romance the Inquisitor.

That was even more implausible than Hawke. Again, Varric seems to see the people around him like story characters. The Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, is this big, potentially tragic, hero figure. DAI takes place over a shorter period of time than DA2, and while you may be able to build a friendly relationship with him, there is still clearly a wall there. Not to mention, he’s still comfortably pining for Bianca until the ‘Well, shit’ quest.

But Varric is in love with Bianca.

Bianca Davri. Gorgeous and brilliant dwarven woman voiced by Laura Bailey. It’s hard for my bi ass not to love her on those points alone. She has an amazing mind and is the only surface dwarf ever to be nominated for paragon status because of her inventions. She and Varric had a romance and were forced apart by the Merchant’s Guild before she was betrothed to a guy in the smith caste. And in the years since, the two of them have kept up a secret correspondence. Tell me all of that doesn’t smack of tragic storybook doomed romance. Of course Varric was stuck on her. Not to mention, he has carried around one of her inventions ever since; one that he named after her.

I think that, in the years since they were forcibly separated, Varric built up an idealized version of Bianca in his mind. You can see he does that to a certain extent with everyone. He separates himself, the writer, from the characters. Sometimes an old hurt is safer than opening up again and Varric has been safe and comfortable with not entering into a new romance. And there’s always that sliver of hope, fed by secret letters, that he and Bianca could be together in the end.

But then ‘Well, shit’ happens in DAI and Varric walks away angry with Bianca after it is revealed that SHE is responsible for leaking the location of the red lyrium. I think (I hope) that this event has shattered the idealized version of Bianca that lives in Varric’s mind. I don’t know how much time has passed since DAI, but I hope that that revelation has started a chain reaction where Varric has reevaluated his relationship with Bianca and is finally ready to put that chapter behind him.

And here’s where my batshit delulu theory starts:

I propose that Bianca the crossbow breaks early on in the game. This would be symbolic of Varric moving from active companion to an advisor status. It’s a sign to Varric that it’s time for a change. On the romance front, it’s the final nail in the coffin of his pining after Bianca.

Rook and The Veilguard are a smaller group than the Inquisition. Stakes are still high, but there’s not this strange reverence for Rook like there was for the Inquisitor. And the group is small and intimate, not a massive, world changing machine like the Inquisition was. I can see Varric being surprised, but cautiously open to flirting overtures from Rook.

It has been so many years since Varric has really allowed himself to love and be loved. It’s been too long since he allowed himself to be a part of the story rather than telling it. He’s getting older now, maybe it’s time to let that chapter close and really try to live and love again.

It has the potential to be a very mature, slow burn, beautiful romance and I know I’m deluding myself but I want it so bad.

[freesidexjunkie]

"If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours... have I misjudged them?"

This isn't blind flattery towards the Inquisitor. It's not "I'm questioning my whole plan of world ending because I have a crush" (if you romanced him.) "Have I misjudged them?"

He woke up and saw a hollow, empty, husk of a world with husks of people walking around, bickering and fighting over everything and nothing. He didn't expect to find beauty here. He didn't expect to find friends to care about (and he does genuinely care about them, in his party banter and dialogue). He didn't expect to find someone to love. Has he misjudged the Dalish, in his haste to write them off as a pale imitation? Has he misjudged the worth of this world?

The implications of that are staggering though. Imagine you have a house with your family. The house is rotten through and through; mildewed and molded, rotten floorboards, leaking ceilings. Doors and windows don't close, holes in the walls, termite-riddled supports. But there is no other house to live in. What do you do? Do you let your family keep living in that house, cold and wet and sick? Do you try to fix it? Where do you start? How much work will these renovations take? When do you start to consider that you could just tear the house down, and build a new one? You don't want to leave your loved ones with nowhere to live, but look at this house. It won't last like this. They deserve better.

So you do it. You start to tear down the house, even though it's a big risk. The biggest you've ever taken. But now, in this transitional period, where you're finally free to build a better house with sturdy walls and strong supports and a watertight roof and windows that shut - you lose your whole family. They can't live without a house.

You can't live without one, either. But imagine you come back, decades later, to find the house even more run down and destroyed. And there are people living in it. People who don't seem to care that the house is in such a sorry state - it's the only way they've ever known the house. And even though it's so ruined and rotten, it's far better than no house. They can't live without a house, either. But these squatters, these primitive, unrefined, barely grasping at how to live people. They are still in the house. The house you tried to tear down to build a better one. And maybe if you can just build a new house, a really good house, your family can come back. Or at least you can start to reclaim what you lost. And this miserable, dilapidated, sorry excuse for a shack is nothing but a sore on your memory now. The people inside are nothing compared to your family.

So you knock a giant fucking hole in the side of the wall. Didn't help, but you didn't get caught, and the people inside welcome you with open arms. You say you can help them, you know a lot about the house. Your nature isn't cruel and callous; you took these big risks in the first place because you can't help but care about people. So why does it surprise you so much when you start to care about these people? They're little more than children rooting around in the dirt, struggling to understand the house. They don't even know how bad the house is.

The house can't be left standing the way it is. That's very clear. But tearing it down, to make way for the house you dreamt of building... wouldn't that doom these people too? But can you let them keep living like this, in this filth and muck? You hate this house, this house that's taken everything from you. You want to destroy it and build a better home for all of you. Maybe even your family; if not them, you can build something new and reclaim what you lost trying to fix this house. But the house isn't a blight to the people here now; it's home, as horrid as it is. It's where they've loved and lived and wept.

Do you still try to repair what you can, piece by piece? Hoping your hands can replace the rot faster than it spread? Do you leave the house the way it is, pretend it's better to have this than nothing, even knowing how soon it could be nothing? The people here are sick, cold, dirty - just like your family. They're suffering, even if it is home. How do you handle this?

There are no easy or right answers. If you ignore the rot, it will spread; the effort it will take to fix the house might be more than building a new one, and people will fight you every step of the way to preserve their image of the house's wonky beauty. If you do tear it down, the people here now might die of exposure. If you told them you wanted to tear it down, they'd fight you tooth and nail; if you didn't, they'd still be inside when it came tumbling down. You'd lose more people. How much do you care about these people? Can you even reclaim your family, even if you do build the new house?

There don't feel like any right answers. The only wrong answer feels like inaction. But what action can you possibly take?

[cl-01-kestis]

My Little Rebel - Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Female Rebel!Reader | Part 7

Summary: You’re lost in the scrapyards of Bracca but you’re determined to discover the secrets of the planet and your undiscovered past.

Warnings: None

You sat still for hours after witnessing the vision of the Padawan and her master, thoughts raced through your mind and you had to take many moments trying to collect your thoughts. Your heart pounded in shock, you rubbed your temples to soothe the headache that was splitting your head in half and trying not to break down crying out of confusion.

That was you in the vision, you were certain. But you had absolutely no recollection what so ever of even being involved with any Jedi, nevermind training as one yourself. You don’t remember your past, all you ever knew was the Rebellion, nothing else, nothing more. You couldn’t shake off the feeling of familiarity you had when you held Cal’s lightsaber though, and the wound on your hand. Somehow when you woke back up from the vision, it was a scar once again and the blood was all gone. The rolled up poncho was still wrapped tightly around your hand but there was no bleeding and no more pain.

You were determined to find something new, you wanted to learn more about what you saw. You were once a Jedi, how could you not remember? Questions upon questions flourished in your mind and it done nothing for your deafening headache. You got back on track after ages of being trapped in your own thoughts, you journeyed forth to find the next purple hue of force with the lightsaber tight in your hand, claimed itself as yours.

You felt a strange connection to the lightsaber, it was like the force wanted you to have it. It had gone so long without an owner and it had been in the dark for Maker knows how many years.

During your time wandering around the scrapyards, you’ve continued having random visions even if there’s no purple hue or voice calling to you. It started happening randomly ever since you picked up the saber and saw yourself as a little girl. Strange things were happening and you weren’t sure how to feel or react towards it. You weren’t scared or petrified, of anything you were pretty calm at the fact you discovered you had a past as a Padawan.

Moments after you scrambled up a steep mechanical ramp, chest heaving and hair damp with sweat and oil from dripping towers of shipwrecks and pieces, your transmitter bleeped on your wrist and for the first time in days, you finally weren’t alone.

“(Y/N), I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Cere, listen we don’t have much time but you need to get off Bracca now, the Ninth Sister and Eleventh Brother have found your location-“ The voice of a long lost friend emerged out of your transmitter and you snapped out of your daze. Cere Junda, what a surprise. The last time you heard from her you were just starting out at the Rebel base on Yavin and your memory was wiped. Cere reminded you a lot of a mother, she was there for you when your own wasn’t.

But then you were confused all of a sudden, Cal was with Trilla Suduri? Why?

“Why are they looking for me?” You asked impatiently, looking around in fear they’d be behind you or were nearby.

“You’re a Jedi, they can sense your presence. (Y/N), we have a lot to talk about but you need to move now” Cere said in a stern voice.

“Where are you located?” You asked.

“Look behind you”.

Your head whipped around and in the distance, there was a ship hovering above the scrapyards, waiting for you.

“But- my friends-“ You stuttered.

“We’ve alerted them on the situation, don’t worry” Cere replied quickly.

You started fleeting towards the ship, unsheathing the lightsaber to avoid any accidents as you hopped over and ducked under multiple mechanic parts. You knew you had to hurry, there was a storm coming and you heard the faint distant echo of a howling Tie fighter, two in fact.

Cere was standing on the open ramp of the ship, holding her arm out as much and as safely as she could, trying not to lose her balance as you finally got close enough and jumped up to grab her hand. Cere pulled you up with as much strength as possible, grunting and falling back on the ramp as she successfully pulled you up onto the ramp and helped you up and into the ship as quickly as she could.

“Captain, now!”

Your heart was racing, you clung on to your lightsaber as you got inside the ship and collapsed onto the floor. You hadn’t been inside a ship for days, it felt nice being away from the scrapyards.

You were covered in muck, your skin and hair dirty with grime and oil. Your clothes were muddy and dark, shades much more darker than what they used to be before you started the mission. You smelled of metal, polish, oil, Earth, and rain. Not a very pleasant smell, but currently you were too bewildered to really care about yourself.

The ship dashed off into the sky and into hyperspace, not wasting a single moment. You stayed on the ground, holding your head with one hand and the other your lightsaber. Cere bent down and rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, her eyes showing worry as if she was a mother that was reunited with her long lost child.

“Are you alright?” Was her approach, sitting down next to you on the ground and bending down to see your face. You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked up, happiness filling your heart once your eyes met the familiar warm cocoa ones that belonged to your old friend.

“Yeah... I’m okay” You breathed out, your chest still heaving up and down. You looked around the ship curiously, feeling a bit out of place compared to the clean spotless environment of the ship you were currently in.

“Sorry for catching you so off guard, we couldn’t risk being spotted by the Inquisitors” Cere reasoned, looking over to the cockpit to see a Latero male making his way over, a pair of his arms crossed whereas the other were down at his sides.

“Whatever you do, please do not sit on the sofa, takes ages trying to get oil staines out of it” The Latora said in a not so welcoming yet not so threatening voice. You didn’t feel intimidated by him, you just simply nodded and hesitantly raised a hand out for him to shake, might as well make a good first impression.

“I’m (Y/N)” You mumbled, smiling at the Latora who rolled his eyes and shook your hand firmly with one of his free hands, smiling back since you’d made an effort to introduce yourself to him.

“Greez Dritus” He replied, letting your hand go and walking back to the cockpit so he could get the ship out of hyperspace. You looked back to Cere once Greez was out of sight and wasted no time to bring her into a tight embrace, your head buried in her neck. Cere chuckled at your sudden show of affection and hugged you back, stroking your damp hair and closing her eyes, enjoying the moment. She hadn’t been hugged in so long, it felt almost foreign to her.

“It’s relieving to have a friendly face around again” You smiled, pulling away from her and earning yourself a smile in return as Cere nodded in agreement.

“Certainly is. Now, I need to speak with you about that lightsaber” Cere looked down at your left hand, looking almost reluctant as you raised it up and nodded your head.

“Where did you find it?” She asked curiously, you crossed your legs and your boots squeaked against the metal flooring of the ship. You held the lightsaber in both of your hands and sighed.

“It all happened to fast Cere, I- there was a light, and when I touched it I saw a vision, a vision of me as a Jedi. None of this makes sense, I don’t even remember anything about my childhood- I’m scared, Cere” Your voice cracked but you weren’t emotional, you were just frightened. Your childhood was a fragment of your memory that had always been missing. You never had a mother or father, or siblings or grandparents. You didn’t even remember your friends.

Cere looked at you for a brief moment as if she was trying to understand what was going on in your head, she pursed her lips and opened her mouth to speak up, but you could sense the reluctance and you saw how hesitant she was in what she was about to say.

“I think it’s about time you knew... when the Purge was executed, your Master Shaak Ti, removed your memory and raced them with false ones, then put you in my care. She wanted you to be safe, she felt as though she couldn’t protect you and it seemed to be the only option. I’m sorry you had to find out this way, (Y/N)” Cere said with pity in her voice. Her words echoed in your mind and you stared off into the distance with your eyebrows furrowed and mouth open slightly.

“So my mother being a mechanic... was lies? M-my father as well?” You stuttered nervously, hands shaking and eyes pricking with tears as you looked at Cere, desperate for an answer.

“That was true, but the mother you remember wasn’t your real one. Your real mother died in childbirth and the woman you do remember brought you up as her own. As for your father, he died long before you were born” Cere answered truthfully, her eyes held sympathy for you but you weren’t sure if you wanted it or not. Your heart felt so heavy, you needed to clear your head.

“This is a lot” You sighed, rubbing your temple and trying to calm the ache developing in your head.

“It would be best if you tried meditating, connect to the past” Cere suggested, taking your hand and standing up. You followed her actions and wobbled onto your feet, like a newborn Bantha taking It’s first steps. Cere lead you to the back of the ship where you guessed the rooms were. You were lead to the back one where a small single bed sat as well as a cabinet and lamp.

“I know it’s not much, but it’s better than sleeping in those scrapyards I hope” Cere joked, you smiled at her and nodded before sitting down on the surprisingly comfortable bed and shuffling around on it to get comfy.

“So... how do I do it?” You asked cluelessly, placing your lightsaber down on the cabinet and away from reach so it wouldn’t accidentally end up igniting and hurting someone. Cere sat down next to you and told you to cross your legs, you removed your boots and done as she said.

“Listen to me carefully, remember, this is your first time so if you don’t get it right, that’s completely okay” Cere assured you kindly, making you feel slightly better as your hands rested on your knees and you listened to her every word.

“Close your eyes” You done as she said, inhaling deeply and letting your lids shut over until everything was black.

“Now... try and clear your thoughts; push out both negative and positive emotions, keep your head in a neutral mindset” You were clinging on to her every word, doing as she said with great caution and taking spaced out breaths to help with clearing your head.

You done as Cere asked and blocked both negative and positive so your mind was almost blank, the only thing existing inside of it was your wandering conscience.

“Good, now, open your mind and reach out to the force” Cere almost felt like she herself was meditating as she called out the instructions to you, her heart calm and head clear as she watched you try your best.

You thought she was crazy for a second, but then you remembered that in order to get to your past you had to do this. You had to reach out

Your mind was clear and you tried stretching it out in hopes you’d feel something. A strange aura surrounded you and you felt like the room was completely empty. No cere, not even you. You didn’t feel like you were in the room anymore. You felt like you were floating in space, your body light weight as you drifted off to wherever the force took you. You accomplished reaching out to it, now you had to find what you were eager to know.

You opened your eyes to find that you weren’t in front of Cere anymore or even on the ship. You were a current conscience in your head and you somehow managed to wake up in a strange realm of the force where mostly everything was white and unrecognisable. Your surroundings were blank, but you weren’t physically there, you knew this place had a purpose.

Looking around, you spotted multiple purple hues like the ones from earlier, surrounding you at all angles and hovering abode nothing as they awaited your eager hands. You walked over to the closest one, crouching down and trustfully slipping your hand into the hue, closing your eyes and feeling yourself be taken to a new time period.

You were suddenly on the ground, eyes still closed but a bright light was shining down on you. It felt like you were on a padded ground, slightly cushioned but not enough to bounce on. You pulled yourself up, opening your eyes and noticing you were im completely different attire. You were in Jedi robes, your hair was shorter and a small plait trailed down your left shoulder.

“Try again Padawan, your emotions will get in the way of many things, do not let it stop you by filling your head with doubt” You looked up to see a platform much more high up than you currently were. A tall Togrota woman dressed in beautiful orange toned robes stood on the edge and watched you with a calm, serene expression.

“Yes master” You said, your voice more squeaky than you remembered.

The wall shifted and created a complex obstacle course for you to complete, consisting of wall runs, wall climbs, double jumps and lots of upper strength. A sudden rush of determination came over you and you sprinted towards a levitating platform that lead to a wall run. You skidded a bit on the wall but managed to grab onto the next platform in time, or else you’d be falling to the ground and meet a fairly unpleasant injury. Pulling yourself up, you caught your breath before running as fast as you can to a railing on the side of another levitating platform. This time it was on its side, hovering up and down which made it a bit more tricky to grab onto it.

“Very good, Padawan” Shaak Ti praised, not yet congratulating you as she watched your small form clumsily glide through the obstacle course. You scurried up the railing and onto the top of the platform, huffing out short breaths as your face flushed with exhaustion, but you weren’t finished yet.

As you got onto the top of the platform, you noticed Master Plo Koon had arrived with his team of clones, the Wolffepack. Just as you were about to get excited, Shaak Ti waved out a platform for you to dodge and overcome.

“Concentrate, Padawan” She scolded in a warning tone, placing her hand down behind her back once more and consulting with Plo who watched you with interest, hoping you’d do well on your course. The clones watched as well with wide eyes as you ran across a few more walls and clambered up and double jumped a few platforms. You were visibly worn out, but Shaak could feel the energy in you. She admired it greatly and decided to outdraw the course a little bit longer to see if you could take what she could give you.

“Final assessment, Young Padawan” Shaak announced, watching you intently as she programmed more obstacles to appear from the floor and walls, even the ceilings. At the corner of your eye, you noticed that Commander Wolffe had dropped to one knee and aimed his blaster at you. Quickly, you grabbed your lightsaber and ignited it, balancing on a thin platform and smiling to him as you dodged each and every one of his hits. Wolffe stopped firing and aimed his gun up to avoid shooting anyone. He took his helmet off, looking almost like a proud father as you bowed to him and giggled.

The Wolffepack were proud that their little Padawan had come so far, it was as if only yesterday they met you as a 11 year old. Now, at 15, you were the strongest Padawan they knew and they were honoured to fight by your side.

“Not bad kid!” Wolffe exclaimed, his scarred eye winking and making you chuckle as the platforms formed to make a pathway for you to join your master and Plo at the top. You practically skipped up the way, excited at your accomplishment and walking to your master, a soft yet proud smile on her face.

“Well done, (Y/N), I am so pleased with your progress” Shaak spoke, cupping your cheek with her red hand and moving it to pat your shoulder gently.

“Congrats kid! We knew you’d smash it” Wolffe raised his hand up and you were quick to smash your own against it. The Wolffe pack surrounded you, congratulating you on your achievement and patting your back roughly. It wasn’t gentle as your masters but you didn’t mind, they were considered your family after all.

“Come on kid, let’s celebrate!”.

[draven-imani]

Journal 2

Everything’s gone to hell. Or the abyss. Whatever. Semantics. It doesn’t fucking matter. The wardstone’s been destroyed. I’m stuck underground with Auriel, the Butcher of Balestreet—who is actually a middle-aged woman who claims to have never actually murdered anyone—a Shelynite inquisitor who came here following a bird, a blind elf wizard, a very angry merchant noble, and Anevia Tirabade—the wife of Irabeth Tirabade, leader of the Eagle Watch, former member of the Raven Corps who rose from the muck when she stopped a conspiracy to break the wardstone—

Which doesn’t matter much now because the wardstone is fucking broken and demons swarmed the city and everyone is dead. It happened again. It happened again. It always—

Let me start from the top. A lot happened. I need to get my thoughts straight. If anyone survived, if we get up top and there’s people to report back to, I need to have a record of what happened.

This morning, Auriel and I went to patrol the Kite as we’d originally been assigned. Inheritor be praised for what happened next…if we’d been there when the attack happened, we would both be dead now. Commander Spriggans stopped us during our rounds, just in front of the wardstone, and informed us that two of the members of the color guard had drank themselves into a stupor the night before and were not in fit state to take part in their duties guiding the parade. He gave us an easy choice. We could remain here in our usual duties walking the walls, or we could fill in for the missing color guard. Auriel left the choice to me, much to both my and the Commander’s displeasure. I don’t particularly like taking responsibility for others, having Auriel look to me as the one to make decisions was…uncomfortable, to say the least. Bad things already happen around me, adding me being the one making our choices to the mix surely won’t help.

Regardless, the choice was obvious in this case. We were to be joining with the color guard, and assisting with the parade.

So, we made our way to where preparations were being set up. However, we couldn’t find the captain who Commander Spriggans had told us to meet with for further commands. After waiting a few minutes, Auriel decided he wanted to check out a platform that was being built for the ceremony. I followed along, incase things went tits up due to his…lack of social knowledge.

Auriel ended up ‘getting a quest’ from the gnome builder, who needed more nails from the storehouse in the temple. Seeing as we couldn’t find who we were supposed to meet, and this seemed like a quick errand that would help with the parade, we went ahead and did so.

It was not a quick errand. The priest who had the key to the storehouse was in the middle of talking to someone else, and that took several very long minutes. Several. Like fifteen. Maybe twenty. Maybe even thirty. I don’t know. It was a long ass time. Long enough that by the time we had it and opened the door, we saw that the parade had just begun. There was no way to get into place without being spotted. We would just have to sit it out and face the music later. Or so we thought. Obviously, much worse happened later and that all ended up being a rather minor blip in regards to the ‘shitty things to happen on this day’ chart by the end of it.

As we were watching the parade, I heard a noise. Coming from the storehouse. A scraping scratching noise and footfalls. I told Auriel, and we ran into the storehouse. The first thing I noticed, the first thing my brain registered, was that Deskari’s damnable symbol was carved into the floor.

The second was that above us, at the top of the stairs, we saw an imposing figure, a single red eye staring down at us and impossible muscles bulging out of ‘his’ clothes. It was the Butcher of Balestreet, an infamous serial killer who’d been avoiding capture for fifteen years. As I already said above, it turns out that ‘he’ was actually a middle-aged woman, who has never actually murdered anyone, and the ‘bulging muscles’ were oranges stuffed into her clothes. The red eye is real though. I haven’t asked. I know about why someone wouldn’t want to answer questions about something like that.

But at the time she cut a rather imposing figure.

The Butcher—whose name I’ve since learned is Luna but for the sake for drama I’ll continue to call her the Butcher for this part—spoke in a deep false male voice. “That was here when I got here. You should be more interested in what’s in the metal box.”

Then ‘he’ made a running leap across the rooftops.

I didn’t have enough information and I was incensed by the symbol of Deskari being right there so unexpectedly. I wanted answers. I told Auriel to investigate the box. At the same time, I charged up the stairs and after the Butcher, leaping across the rooftop after ‘him’.

The Butcher climbed up a wall with a grace completely unexpected of ‘his’ bulk, and I couldn’t keep up, my armor weighing me down. I was forced to find another way around. However, at the same time, the Butcher was slowed when ‘he’ came upon a bridge that he would have to lower to get farther.

Then Auriel showed up with a Shelynite Inquititor I’d never seen before in my life, who used magic to command the Butcher to stop on ‘his’ tracks. This gave me the opportunity to call on a blessing of Iomedae to enhance my swiftness in battle, and I was able to catch up. Unfortunately, the Butcher had only been commanded not to move—not to not throw me off the blasted roof. The Butcher caught me with the blunt of ‘his’ axe and threw me backwards. I managed to use my shield against a nearby wall to slow my descent somewhat. One of the color guard broke away from the parade and healed me a bit and asked what happened, so I explained what we’d found in the storehouse, and that the Butcher of Balestreet was on the rooftops fleeing.

A moment later the Shelynite fell beside me in a similar position to where I’d been. She introduced herself as Melody, and told me that she didn’t believe this person was the Butcher, or at least that ‘he’ wasn’t a murderer. I didn’t know this woman well enough to know her intentions or to judge her actions, for now all I knew was what I’d seen with my own eyes: the Butcher in the room with a symbol of Deskari, leaving with some sort of box after warning us that something in another box might be of interest. Which meant right then I wanted answers from the Butcher, murderer or not.

I ran for the other storehouse, intent to cut the Butcher off. Unfortunately, the Eagle Watch had gotten the same idea, and the Butcher saw their attempt at a blockade and turned around. ‘He’ jumped from the bridge instead, and tried to make a run for it down the alley.

Then the Butcher was stopped in ‘his’ tracks by a hold person spell, cast by a high-ranking member of the crusades: Lady Salzara. Some of her men came to collect the Butcher, and she said that myself, Auriel, and Melody needed to come with her as well. I had a foreboding feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Lady Salzara led us to where High Commander Hol Rune had been making his speech. She began speaking to the crowd about how this was an auspicious day, in which a ‘lost lamb’ had returned to its flock. As she spoke, there was a horrific cracking noise. And then the Kite, and the Wardstone within it, exploded in fire. And the sky above began to crack like glass. Rifts began to open around us as demons began to pour into the city. High Commander Hol Rune was ripped apart in an instant when a portal opened behind him and a powerful demon tore through him with ease. All around us there was nothing but fire and bloodshed and death. My arm was bleeding like never before, and it hurt, it hurt so much, and this time I was so sure both me and an entire city were going to die together.

Instead, in a flash of silver Terendalev, the city’s defender, appeared before the four of us—Auriel, myself, Melody, and Luna. He asked us to trust him, and that fate had plans for us. Then with a sweep of his tail he knocked us into a great chasm that opened in the earth, and cast a spell so that we float gently into the earth, along with three others. The last we saw of the city’s protector, Terendelev, the silver dragon paladin of Iomedae, he was facing down The Storm King Khorramzadeh, one of Deskari’s generals. And then everything went black.

We woke…who knows how much later. We were under ground, with no way to know how much time had passed. At first our memories of events were jumbled, but they came back quickly enough. We made proper introductions, including Luna removing her hood to reveal the fact that the Butcher was a middle-aged woman yada yada I’ve already covered this. Point is, we decided to trust her for now. For one thing, Terendelev trusted her enough to send her down here with us. For another, I prefer to see someone’s actions for myself than to judge based on the words of others, and already things weren’t adding up with the stories I’d heard, so it was time to wipe the rumors from my mind and judge her based on her actions alone.

We also formally met Melody, the tiny lil inquisitor of Shelyn with a glaive longer than she is tall, that she carefully balanced so it never touched the ground, who travelled to the edge of the Worldwound following a bird sent by her goddess. So clearly this is where she was meant to be, for better or worse.

There were also three new faces. Two were unfortunately injured. One woman appeared to be a crusader scout whose leg was caught under a rock. Luna and I managed to get her leg free, and I healed as much of the damage as I could, although my magic was not enough to mend broken bones. After that I got a good look at her and realized she was Anevia Tirabade, the wife of Irabeth Tirabade, the commander of the Eagle Watch.

Once I knew she was as okay as she could be given the circumstances, I went to join Melody checking on the other injured individual, an elven spellcaster by the name of Aravashnial. Unfortunately, I knew from experience there was nothing I could do for him—his eyes had been slashed through by a demon, much like my own useless left eye. We spoke to him, and managed to calm him and convince him not to do anything rash, as initially he was going to try charging ahead eyes or no, stubbornly determined that he had to be of use. I could understand, but I tried to reason with him that while I did believe he could do everything he’d once been able to with time, it would *take time*, as relearning to sword fight with one eye had for me. For now, he needed to remain in the back with Anevia and the nobleman where it was safe. And Melody pointed out that he was far from useless, as none of the rest of us knew anything about the arcane, which was very true.

The third and least pleasant of the trio was Horgus Gwerm, a merchant. He caused a bit of a fuss, before Luna took matters into her own hands. Literally into her own hands, with a hand on his throat. He pulled her aside to talk to her in private. Melody, Auriel, and I spoke while he waited, Auriel and I more formally introducing ourselves and explaining the Raven Corps to Melody, and Melody explaining her recent arrival into town following a little birdie. We explained in a bit more detail how we’d ended up chasing Luna over the rooftops, and Auriel told me what he’d found in the metal box. It had been an armless mummified locust demon, in a box emblazoned with more Deskari symbology.

As we spoke about this disturbing discovery, there was a bit of a commotion. Luna had opened the box she’d stolen from the store room, and from within removed a book. Auriel informed me and Melody that the box had picked up as evil when he’d tried to smite Luna before and failed while on the roofs after I’d…tumbled. Gwerm took the book and tried to light it ablaze with a flint and tinder, but when the flames died down it did nothing. When they returned to the group, Melody asked to look over the book, which Horgus grumpily pressed into her hands before storming off. Aravashnial laughed at his attempt at burning an evil magical tome, commenting that of course it hadn’t worked. There was a clear tension in the cavern between our three companions. Melody told the rest of us that she believed she could identify more about this book if she had access to a library. Assuming the libraries up on the surface haven’t all been destroyed…

With nothing else to do but try to find a way out, we made our way deeper into the caverns. Melody uncovered four of Terendelev’s scales as we explored. When we held them we knew in our hearts the magic they held. Each granted a boon to the holder, and Melody believed Terendalev wanted us to have them.

We…also fear the worst for the guardian of the city. One of the scales, the one Auriel took, was coated in blood. I would love to be optimistic. Really. I would. But he was facing down one of Deskari’s generals. That’s…a big task, even for a dragon.

We haven’t really had time to think about it, though. We need to find a way out of this cave. We continued forward, through caverns where we fought disgusting vermin, and found an unexpected campsite. Aravashnial commented that there were a group of peoples who were rumored to live hidden below the city, The First Descendants. People descended from the first crusaders, who had been tainted by the demons’ influence and twisted into monstrous forms, and had been forced into hiding underground. Auriel may have made some comment at this point about how anyone tainted by the demons’ touch must be eliminated, to which I *may* have snipped at him a bit about tieflings being fine and that we ought to judge them by their actions. Besides, their existence was mere rumor.

Whether it’s true or not, I can’t possibly say. We didn’t find any proof in the campsite of whether the owner had been human, elven, or perhaps a member of these first descendants. All we found was a pendant whose design none of us recognized, which Luna took because it looked expensive and she did the most work clearing out the creatures in the room to actually get to it. Which I could not argue, much as I could use the gold. So far observing Luna, I can say without a doubt she is a fierce combatant. Without a doubt the most competent of us all.

Which became a problem when we arrived to the temple of Torag where we’ve stopped to bed down.

See, Gwerm decided he didn’t want to stop. Gwerm decided that Anevia and Aravashnial were slowing us down, and that we should go on without them. Gwerm tried to pay the rest of us off to leave them behind, and when we refused, he decided that fine, he’d go with just Luna—who he’d apparently already hired to be his bodyguard. Gwerm was being a shortsighted selfish idiot.

Luna managed to sweet talk him, explaining that while the injured might slow us down, we had strength in numbers. She was extremely capable, but he would still be much safer with all of us protecting him rather than just her, and we’d made our stance clear that we wouldn’t be leaving the injured behind.

In all honesty, I think she was trying to protect Anevia and Aravashnial more than Gwerm in doing this. I sincerely believe she could have protected Gwerm by herself, from what I’ve seen, and I think she knows that. She’s pretty confident in her abilities. But me, Melody, and Auriel protecting the injured without Luna? That could have ended in a massacre.

With that settled, Auriel wanted to look into Torag’s temple, as he was an ally to Iomedae, to see if there was anything he could do to help repair it and make sure nothing had been desecrated. I was in agreement, even if I didn’t feel as strongly about it as he seemed to. We opened the sealed temple and went inside.

Within, we found an undead monster, a huecuva. Once upon a time a priest of Torag built a grand temple of his god deep under Kenabres, using all his wealth to make it the most impressive structure he possibly could. When he finished, he received no sign of his god’s pleasure. And so, he sealed the temple, desecrated it, left behind one final letter, and died speaking heresies against torag, only to rise again as an undead monster.

We feared a difficult fight, as such creatures are hardy, difficult to hurt, carry diseases, and hit hard. With this in mind Auriel smote the former priest and went on the offensive, but the undead dodged out of the way. Luna attacked and struck true, her axe slicing through the undead with no care for its resistances against physical damage. Melody used her judgement, her weapon glowing the colors of the rainbow, and attacked as well, but the creature dodged again. I called upon Iomedae’s blessings and approached, intent to assist with the kill. The creature continued to dodge around Auriel, but only for a moment longer before Luna’s axe cleaved clean through its neck.

I…am uncertain how to feel about the situation. Certainly it proves the point I was making earlier about us needing Luna more than she needs us. It feels bad that to clear out a creature desecrating a holy place it took the only person who…has had some very vocal things to say about the gods in general, and Iomedae in particular. The three of us should have had so much going for us against that creature and yet Luna was the only effective member of our group.

Well. There’s no point moping about it. What’s done is done. She’s a powerful combatant. And she surprisingly did not rub it in our faces. Which I did take note of. Despite her grudge against crusaders, she’s not petty about it. Not all the time, at least. She certainly takes every chance she can to take pot shots at the Raven Corps. and how we’re the lowest of the low, so there’s that. Apparently, many of the reports of her ‘murders’ were cover ups for embarrassed Raven Corps members who fell into her traps, things like stringing them up from lamp posts or…well, tossing them off rooftops, as I learned firsthand. Some people don’t have a sense of humor. And too much pride. But starting rumors that someone’s a murderer to save face over a prank? That’s excessive. There’s definitely more to it than that.

One thing’s for sure, from her actions today, I believe “the Butcher” that she’s no murderer. She could have taken Horgus’ money and left us for dead with the injured. Yet she did not, despite her distaste for travelling with people of the cloth. Perhaps not for our sake, but certainly I suspect for the sake of our injured duo.

If the city is in any state for rumors to still matter when we get back up top, I’ll do what I can to clear her name. Which…unfortunately isn’t much, truth be told. A Raven Corps member isn’t exactly someone with any sway. But at least if some people are countering the rumors, maybe something can change. I hate to see a good person’s name being dragged through the mud.

Anyways. It’s getting late. Auriel’s off cleaning up the temple. He said it was something he had to do on his own. I’d think he was just being his usual overly diligent self, if I didn’t know enough about Torag’s teachings to know that a certain sense of personal responsibility in one’s work is probably appreciated by this particular god. In the mean time we had a ‘chat’ with Aravashnial and Anevia. By which I mean Melody had a chat with them and did her inquisitor thing. Found out that Aravashnial is a member of a secret group called the Riftwardens, and that Irabeth trying to get the Riftwardens to join the crusaders’ cause directly led to he and his partner’s messy breakup. So, ouch.

Then she learned from Anevia that Aravashnial had once accused Gwerm of being a Baphomet cultist to Irabeth. Irabeth asked Anevia to subtly look into it. Anevia did, and found that Gwerm was clean, and also that he’d been secretly donating large sums to the crusades—despite it being against his religion as a worshipper of Abadar. Unfortunately, her break in had not been as subtle as she’d thought, someone had seen her, and that someone broke in and cleared Gwerm out of a large sum of his funds as a result, not to mention the public embarrassment of the entire affair.

Luna, Melody, and I told Anevia in no uncertain terms that the three of them needed to be adults and talk to each other and apologize and work things out first thing in the morning. We were in a shitty situation and we needed them to be able to work together if we were going to get out of this, and quite frankly it sounded like Horgus had some pretty good reasons to be upset with Aravashnial and Anevia, even if leaving them for dead was still a selfish overreaction. Anevia said that sounded more painful than having a broken leg, but agreed to do so despite some pouting. This is Irabeth’s wife, huh? Not quite what I expected to be honest. It’s bad when I’m the mature adult in the conversation. Ew. Terrible.

[lostinfantasies38]

14 Days of DA Lover’s - Day 8: Patching Up

@scharoux @14daysofdalovers

Pairing: Lace Harding/F!Lavellan  

If you are enjoying my work and want to catch any stories you may have missed, here is the series on AO3

Tending You

A moan sounded behind them, instantly spurring her team to snatch their discarded weapons. Alys stole on soft feet, trying to avoid the deep mud that threatened to capture her boots and throw her face first into the muck. The elf reached the outcropping where the noise emanated from, expecting to find a walking corpse they missed in the original skirmish.

“Lace! Creators! Bull, help me!”

The qunari snatched the smaller woman and raced her back to base with the Inquisitor hot on their heels. Alys tried not to think of Lace’s usually lively cheeks devoid of color or the gash in her abdomen stained with blood under the dwarf’s hand. Tents were useless in the Fallow Mire, so the scouts commandeered the nearby cabins for shelter and they tumbled into the nearest one.

Dorian beat them back to camp, clearing off the lower bunk to allow the warrior to lay the woman on the mattress. The mage gingerly peeled back the woman’s sticky leathers, apologizing for his part in causing her pain when she hissed at the movement. Sighing in relief, Dorian smiled reassuringly to the anxious scout.

“A flesh wound. It has damaged nothing vital. It needs to be cleaned and stitched, but with a healing potion and daily applications of a poultice, it will heal.”

Dorian lifted her soaked armor to remove it and Lace stiffened, her green eyes flicking from the Inquisitor to the men hovering in the room and a protectiveness roared within the elf. “Men, out! This is for women only.”

Her companions blinked at her in wide-eyed surprise, only rivaled by the dumbfounded expression gracing the scout’s freckled features. Alys stepped closer to the bed, hands on her hips, ignoring that her usual imposing stature was less so in her saturated state. Iron Bull glanced between the women and smirked, tapping Dorian on the shoulder, tossing his pack on the table as they left.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Alys turned to Lace with a warm smile. The dwarven woman fidgeted uncomfortably. “Inquisitor, you-you don’t have to tend to me. One of my scouts can do it. We’re used to helping each other in the field.”

“Lace, please. Let me take care of you, for once. And what did I say about calling me Inquisitor?”

She blushed, smiling shyly at the elven woman, “It’s a tough habit to break, Alys. If I get too comfortable, I’ll start name dropping among the scouts and give them the wrong idea.”

Alys’s stomach twisted, even as she smiled in the quiet room and eased the dwarf out of her ruined armor. Outer layers removed, leaving her in breast band and smalls, she tucked the woman under a blanket while she set up her tools. Shucking her own drenched clothes, Alys pulled on a dry sleeping tunic, so she could work without polluting the wound and snatched a kettle to boil water for cleaning the area. Digging in Bull’s pack she found the kit that held the needles and catgut for stitching and the numbing cream, a recipe from her clan, that came in handy for field suturing.

With the water boiled, she quickly washed her hands and her tools before pouring the remainder in a clean basin with some elfroot and prophet’s laurel to disinfect the wound. Locating her clean cloths and bandages, Alys kneeled on the rug peeking underneath the bed, smiling tenderly at the dwarf as she set up her materials.

Rolling back the blanket, she breathed in relief as she fully examined the wound. A gash in the ample flesh of her right side, but dwarves carried an extra layer of padding on their physique, shielding her muscles from injury. The edges were jagged and would probably scar, but Lace would live and that was all she cared about.

“You’re too quiet. It’s making me nervous,” the dwarf whispered. She hummed appreciatively as the elf’s warm hands danced along her skin. Alys murmured a soft apology at her gasp with the sudden temperature increase as hot water bathed her tender flesh.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s hot, but it’s not deep. Just a few passes to clean it out.” Alys’s free hand tangled with one of Lace’s freckled ones, and the dwarf didn’t protest, instead clinging to it as an anchor against the flushing of her wound. Every tug and lavage of the injury pulled small gasps from her lips that almost broke Alys’s heart. When she finally set aside the basin, the dwarf was not the only one trembling.

“I’m okay. It’s okay. Y-you did what you had to…I don’t blame you,” the scout panted, sweat dotting her brow. “I just couldn’t swear…not in front of the Inquisitor.” She gave a strained laugh at the elf’s eye roll.

“Fuck, Lace. You know I’m the last one who gives a damn about propriety or being the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ Drop all the curses you want. I’m sure yours are quite inventive, traveling the world with a bunch of mouthy soldiers.”

Her bark of laughter was robust, full-bodied and heady, like one of Dorian’s vintage wines and Alys’s pulse increased in response. Releasing her hand with regret, she produced a health potion from her materials and gently lifted the dwarf’s head so she could drink it. Alys held her breath as Lace’s lips puckered around the edge of the flask. Her gaze flicked to her bright green eyes and found them locked on her.

She no longer heard the rain pouring outside or the crackling of the hearth nor saw the cozy one room cabin. All her focus was on the woman she thought she might lose and hadn’t yet told how she felt. As Lead Scout, she was the first to arrive in new regions to set up a base of operations and make sure it was secure for the Inquisitor. How many near death experiences had she had that Alys didn’t know about? Would she have told her? Had she ever asked?

“Lace…”

“Alys?”

Setting aside the empty flask, Alys cupped Lace’s face in her slender hands and leaned forward to press her lips to the rosy, pillowy ones that were a constant source of fascination for her. The dwarf froze. Mentally cursing herself, Alys pulled back, an apology on her tongue, when Lace grabbed her tunic and snatched her back with a blissful sigh. Relaxing into the kiss, Alys languidly caressed her full lips, savoring the sweetness under the bitter tang of elfroot and wondered why in the Creator’s name she had waited so long.

When they finally separated, panting after months of pining realized, she smiled at the glazed expression of her patient. Touching her forehead reverently, she kissed the tip of Lace’s nose, pulling a surprised giggle from the dwarven woman.

“I’m sorry. I should be tending to you, not –“

“Fuck, Alys,” she teased, mirth shining in her green eyes. “You are tending to me.” The elf flushed slightly at the insistence in her tone.

“Still, let me finish getting you patched up, okay? Once you’re bandaged, we’ll bundle you in one of my tunics and blankets so you can rest.”

A gentle brush of fingers against her cheek halted her retreat and she turned her wide eyes to the dwarf. “I’ll only rest if you stay with me,” she murmured shyly. With a soft kiss of her lips across Lace’s hand, Alys nodded with a tender smile.

“For you, I would do anything.”

[alittlestarling]

Welcome Home, Good Hunter

It’s the Avvar AU no one asked for and the thing I’ve been yelling at @rhetoricalrogue about for months now, honestly. Currently I have a few parts planned and more to come. Featuring Vincent Trevelyan and Rosalind in a “what if Vincent were Avvar and Roz were inquisitor?” AU.

Part 1: Fallow Mire

“Herald, watch your step,” Cassandra held a hand out as Roz’s foot slipped into the muck for what felt like the millionth time. It was hard to see the pathway through the swamp; not for the first time, Rosalind Marlowe wondered exactly who would settle down in the Fallow Mire. Rain had assaulted them with an annoying consistency since they had made camp along the borders, there was more water than land anywhere she stepped and, of course, the residue from a plague as well as the dead rising gave this place little charm.

“Thank you,” Roz shot a quick, grateful smile as she shook the peat and mud from her boots. Armor felt strange to her despite having been decked and dressed in it since waking in the dungeon in Haven. The last few months had rushed past in a blur of faces, battles and all eyes upon her as she made choices that she never wanted to be part of.

True, she had participated in rebellion (Leliana and Josephine had gently asked her not to disclose that piece of information to anyone looking to join their ranks), but even with the unsteady legs the rebel mages had stood upon, they at least were fighting for freedom. Yes, saving the world was important too, but Roz only felt shackled again, caught in a web that she knew she might never escape so long as the mark remained on her hand.

It crackled and sparked to life in the dim mist, the sickening green tingle running up her fingertips. Strange magic and an even stranger lapse in her own memory left her searching, seeking answers that always seemed just out of reach. Not to mention the looks people gave her. Some were caught in reverence, bowing and scraping and called her Chosen by the Bride of the Maker; others watched with wariness, tense and uncertain, as if she might spring forth a demon in disguise.

Perhaps it was better they remembered she was a mage and that she should be feared. In the end, though, it left her feeling more lonely than satisfied.

Cassandra had never swayed after their first attempt against the Breach, steadfast and faithful beyond words. Not many others had looked upon her the same way. Varric had this way of watching from the corner of his eye, as if mentally taking notes, sometimes narrating under his breath, but never getting too close to her. Blackwall was polite and uncertain, strong on the field but the wandering Warden hadn’t opened up much since joining their party.

“You really do take us to the nicest swamps, Rosebud,” Varric quipped from behind, “though I don’t think I care so much for the undead.”

“Perhaps you’ll have to write a strongly worded letter to the bog,” Roz snorted, shooting the dwarf a small smile. “Find some good words to use to describe this place. Damp, squelching, muddy-”

“An ever-constant fear of stepping in water and summoning the dead?” Varric added. Roz brushed back a small piece of damp hair off her face with a shake of her head, pausing only a moment to keep an eye on the shore nearby.

“Whatever magic’s afoot here, it’s not good.” Was it the rifts? Or perhaps someone else had harnessed something deeper and darker to bend and twist to their own will? The beacons in the bog didn’t give her a good feeling either way, not when she sensed it wasn’t the only one.

The world was filled with more magic, wonder and dread than Roz could have ever possibly imagined. Had she been told only a year ago that this would be her life, she would have laughed. But now stepping through dangerous territory, fighting off bandits and undead alike had become normal, along with the magic that swirled and surrounded her.

“Another broken home,” Blackwall tilted his head towards yet another run-down building in the distance. “Poor sods. I’ve seen plague, it’s not pretty.” Roz could believe it, wrinkling her nose against the putrid scent of death and decay that permeated the air around them.

Her own mind wandered to charred bodies, those broken by the fires set in the Circle and the people she had lost when they ran for freedom. How many bodies made anything she did worth it? How many deaths could be justified for the cause of seeking a life free from the Chantry and the Templars?

Shaking herself from a familiar spiral, Roz wiped rain from her face and kept them moving forward.

Magic was calling to her, a shift in the air drawing her closer to it. The mark offered an unfamiliar tang in her mouth, a strangeness that felt so unlike her own power that she’d nurtured and lived with almost her entire life. That was a force she knew well, a vast warmth that glowed and smoked like embers in her chest. The magic she could taste felt like the mark and she knew before they’d reached the strange green glow that there was another rift.

“Well,” Varric frowned at the stitch that glimmered green against the sky, cursing under his breath a moment. “Looks like the one in the valley, doesn’t it?”

“Not fully closed,” Roz sighed from the ruins of the house they’d paused in, eying the improperly sealed rift with irritation. Her hand sizzled at the thought of opening it, the magic already tugging to the stitch, the mark given a mind of its own when they got close to these when they were in the field. “Come on, let’s see what we can do.”

“Wait-” Cassandra had an arm flung out before Roz could move further ahead, running straight into Cassandra’s armored arm before slowing down. A gesture and Roz turned her attention to the shadows. Solid, strong and far bigger than she was, the stranger made no move forward to attack when Roz became visible.

“Is he friendly?” Varric intoned under his breath, the question they were all asking. It was hard to tell friend from foe in the wilderness sometimes, especially when they had yet to run into the Avvar who had apparently caused all this trouble and fuss.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? We need to close this. Properly.” Magic surged in her fingertips, wild and free as she stepped forward, lifting her hand to rip apart the veil. It struggled against her attempts, harder to control and contain, but she grit her teeth and let out a snarl as the world exploded in a green haze and demons burst into the world.

Roz held her staff, magic channeled within it, focusing the raw energy that raged within her. She was a wildfire, a clean burn that surged forth with spells and stabs of burning, bright energy. Fighting had never come easily to her; she had focused her own skills into herbalism and learning how to hone healing as an art. It helped in hiding evidence of her darker dealings, developing poultices to keep scars closed and healing. She wasn’t graceful in a fight nor did she have the brute strength that came with a warrior’s body.

Cassandra and Blackwall could dive into a fight, clashing metal and steel against their enemies, drawing forces to them to slash and hack away with brutal precision. Varric picked off stragglers, keeping them from getting too close, his line of sight always seemingly clear, despite his height. Despite only being grouped together for a few months, they worked rather well as a team. Roz alternated between savage bursts of flame and cool, shimmering barriers to protect as the dead rose from the peat bog around them.

All it took was a moment when her attention turned away, focused on setting a mine below the feet of a corpse near Varric, that she nearly missed another one ambling towards her; first slow, then fast, tripping over it’s feet momentarily in anticipation of slicing into her. There was a brief should from Cassandra, but before Roz could turn to face the creature, an axe sailed just past her, landing with a dull thud against the head of the creature.

There was no time for her to do more than react, instinct shooting flames into the mist at the sudden arrival of, what? Friend? Foe? Neither?

“Hold, I come in peace!” The fire bounced off a barrier, the figure light up a moment as all the breath left Roz’s lungs. Dark hair clung to his face, a smattering of scars along his face and one hand up, the other clutching the twin axe close to him. Another flash of green light and she noted, without looking too closely, that he was undoubtedly Avvar.

Roz swore internally. Of course, two would appear when they were in the middle of battling a rift.

“More demons!” Cassandra bellowed and Roz shifted her attention quickly from and then back to the stranger.

“If you intend to stay, then help fight them with us.” Roz called out, muttering a prayer under her breath. A glance to her side and she couldn’t help her eyes widening as lightning and blue energy surged along the axes in his hands.

“Hakkon guide your blade, Herald.” And the fight was on.

“Be careful, Rosalind,” Cassandra was eyeing their new friend with caution and wariness. Roz couldn’t blame her, not when he had arrived at just the right moment and found himself among those his people were trying to fight.

“Not my people,” Vincent clarified when the rift was closed and all eyes fell upon him. “I’m not of that clan, lowlander.” He was a little gruff, despite his earnestness to help, watching them all with a relaxed gait that still held coiled concern in each step. He may have helped, but he didn’t trust the companions he’d found himself amongst.

That is, everyone but Roz.

There was...something there. A tug not unlike what Roz felt when she grew close to rifts. It didn’t feel quite so severe or strange. As though there was a force calling to her, drawing her in when she got close. Intoxicating and strange and filling her with a sense of calm that she hadn’t felt since she left the Circle.

“I don’t bite, Lass.” Vincent hadn’t even looked up from the fire he was tending to, blowing across embers before the steady flow of magic turned them into bright, glowing flames. The warmth felt good; she had used magic on her clothes and the others earlier, drying the dampness from her armor

Rain continued to fall outside, puddles forming at the cave entrance and mist rolling inside. Roz couldn’t help herself – she was desperately curious, a million questions already forming in her head. “Yes,” she huffed softly, shifting from foot to foot, as though uncertain. Sit? Stand? But a glance from him followed and his gaze was warm, open and she could see the same curiosity echoed back at her.

“So,” Roz began, sitting down on a nearby log, rubbing her hands together before the fire. “If you’re not with the Avvar here, where are you from?”

“My clan is from Stone-Bear Hold,” Vincent answered, lifting his gaze from the fire to meet hers across from him. “My home is in the basin, along the mountains to the northwest.”

“You’re a ways from home,” Roz noted, “why are you here?” She paused, adding quickly, “I mean, I know why you’re here-here, but why are you in the swamp?” No one, certainly not anyone in her group, would have come here willingly. Not with the rain, the undead and the threat of strange beacons in the dark.

Vincent tilted his head to the side and for a moment it felt like his gaze was boring straight through her. As though he could truly see her, Rosalind, not the Herald of Andraste. Her cheeks flushed and her heart thumped in her chest but she didn’t drop her gaze, she couldn’t bring herself to look away. Here, among the undead and the peat, this man sat before her and it felt like nothing else seemed to matter in that moment.

Maker, what a lovely man he is.

“I was looking for you.” Her heart hammered with an odd uncertainty at the intimacy in his words. Cassandra’s warning to be careful echoed though as Roz swallowed hard.

“Me?!” But her alarm was short-lived, realizing a half-second after she’d spoken that he obviously hadn’t been looking for her; rather, he had been seeking the mark and the woman behind it. Her silly fantasies that had cropped up effortlessly were wiped from her brain, flushed now more out of embarrassment than pleasure.

Silly, foolish, of course he seeks the mark, not you, you dolt.

Shifting along the log, gaining her composure again, she stared at the fire to collect herself, adding her own magic into the mix.

“Herald of Andraste, you have made quite the commotion in the world.” If he had noticed her strange shift, he said nothing of it. “I almost wouldn’t believe it unless I’d seen it with my own eyes,” and his tone dipped, low and soft, “but you can heal the sky. How does that work?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Roz murmured with a small sigh. That was the mystery of it all: more than just how she had gotten the mark, but the why continued to plague her.

As if it knew they were speaking about it, the mark sizzled in a sharp contrast of green against the warm firelight. Roz gave a soft hiss, a frown creasing her brow as she fought off the sudden wince that followed. Instead, she clenched her hand into a fist, all but willing to light to stop. It does with an abruptness as Roz adjusts her gaze back to the lowlight around them.

Vincent watched her, curious and almost concerned by the looks of it. “Does it hurt?” He asked gently. Roz shrugged in an attempt to look nonchalant.

“Sometimes. It’s more of a sting these days, annoying but not terribly painful.”

Roz rarely talked about how the mark was affecting her and very few people asked. Josephine had often shown concern and sympathy when they were together in Haven but everyone else seemed to comment in passing and were far more intrigued in how it worked and how useful it would be to them and the world around her, not for her, the person. The shift in tone and the soft gaze across the fire felt odd to her as she busied herself with the folds of her shirt, gently warming the fabric to continue to keep herself dry.

As if sensing the discomfort, Vincent didn’t seek to fill the silence or push the subject. Roz was grateful for that as she glanced back up to him, watching him shift before the fire. It was only through subtly watching a moment that she caught the half-wince, the little grimace when he moved.

“Are you hurt?”

Vincent, for all intents and purposes, tried to wave it off without fussing. “Just a few scratches, nothing serious. I’ve lived through worse.”

Roz scooted over towards him, a frown on her face as she reached out. Gently, gravely, she asked, “May I? I can help.” There was a moment, a longer pause before Vincent gave a sharp nod.  

Despite her training, healing had never come quite as easily. Yes, she could find ways to use blood and make it work in her favor, but the healing arts were stiff even after practicing for the last few weeks on the road. The magic within her stuttered awkwardly a moment as her hands reached out, resting along his clothed chest. He took in a sharp breath, eyes wide and apologies fell from her lips.

“Sorry, sorry, I know, healing isn’t my strength but I’m getting better at it.” Letting the cool, blue magic wash over Vincent, Roz tried not to linger in silence long. ���Give me an herb garden and I can create a poultice for almost anything. Or tea, I can do tea, too,” She gave a nervous little laugh, pulling her hands away when she was finished. “This is just a necessity of traveling, I suppose. How do you feel?”

“Better,” Vincent murmured, looking oddly winded, eyes fixed still so intently on her. The crackle of the fire was the only noise between them for a long moment as Roz shifted away again, aware how close she had gotten to him.

“So,” She tucked a leg beneath her, adjusting to sit as comfortably with a little distance between them, “you’re a mage? I saw what you did, with the lightning and your axes.” He nodded and Roz continued, asking the questions that burned from within. “But you use martial weapons as a focus? How did you learn to control it?”

Her teaching had always told her a mage outside the circle as dangerous, an apostate without any clear control or careful watch on their powers that could leave them open to hurting themselves or others. And the fear of possession and abominations had often been spread as a tale of caution for all who lived within the circle walls. Yet she had watched him during the fight, impressed with the strange mix of physical combat strength that blended with magic that crackled and fizzed in the air around them. There had been control and power without either outweighing the other and that had surprised her more than anything.

“A spirit of Patience taught me to use this gift.”

Her shocked silence followed this statement and he glanced at her with genuine confusion. “What? Is that not how you lowlanders do it?”

“Hardly,” Roz gave an incredulous laugh, half-curious, half-hysterical at the notion that anyone would willingly taken on possession when they were taught from an early age just what a demon might do. “You’re talking about being possessed. That’s a dangerous thing to us.”

Yet you have offered the same. Hypocrite.

The voice at the back of her mind was bitter and judging and she ran her hands along her arms where she knew scars remained from the rebellion. It was the only way to stay safe, she reminded herself, the only way she could ensure they made it to the conclave alive. Regardless of what had happened, she had done what she needed to survive. No one knew this, but Roz wasn’t going to divulge anything to her companions, not even this strange and handsome Avvar.

“Mages are a conduit to the gods, Lass,” Vincent interrupted her thoughts, leaning forward, “it’s a sacred duty we perform when we use our gifts. Spirits help us learn to channel that.”

“Don’t let anyone from the Chantry hear you saying that. Or a Circle mage, for that matter.” Roz shook her head, her magic flittering to stoke the fire once again. “I didn’t learn how to use my magic from spirits, that’s for certain.”

“How old were you when you began to learn with your gift?” Vincent asked and Roz realized he meant that genuinely. Magic to him was a gift, something that hadn’t been tucked away in a tower for years at a time and feared. It was simple and extraordinary and a lump rose in her throat fast. She swallowed against the sudden emotion, dropping her gaze away, afraid she might cry if she thought about living that life too hard.

“I was six when I came into my abilities. I accidentally lit my older brother’s eyebrows on fire.” That had been a sight - Matthew with no eyebrows, smoke floating in the air and the pair of them caught between amazement and, after a moment, horror at what had happened. “He was fine but my mother and father were swift to do what we necessary.”

“Necessary?”

Roz nodded. “Within a week, I was packed and off to Ostwick Circle with Templars to accompany me.” Her memories from home often felt fuzzy, a piece of a life she couldn’t quite grasp. Now and then she missed it, the sensation of home but that had faded with time when her family had ceased communications with the Circle. “I miss Matthew the most. I hope his eyebrows grew back in properly.” The comment was light but her heart did have a certain ache when she tried to picture her big brother, uncertain these days if they shared the same eye color or whether their laugh sounded the same.

“You didn’t stay with your family? Why?” Vincent looked horrified when she glanced up again, his own brow creased deeply with a glower of someone who hadn’t grown up in her world. “You were a child, you shouldn’t have been taken from them.”

“Magic exists to serve man,” Roz recited by heart, “never to rule over him.” When he looked even more bewildered, she went on. “Mages are inherently dangerous with magic and must be watched. Whether you believe it or not doesn’t really matter; we have been taught we need to stay locked away for the safety of ourselves and others.”

“That’s backwards thinking,” Vincent voiced and Roz couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her lips. Bitterness prevailed in her tone though as she stared at the fire again.

“Perhaps, but like I said, it doesn’t matter.” The fire had begun in Kirkwall and now it spread across Thedas with a force that almost gave Roz hope for true, real change for all of them. Alderis had given her hope for such a thing; he paid for it, but that flame still burned brightly within her chest.

“Change had to come with a battering ram and we’re still picking up the pieces.” Uncertainty still remained and Roz could feel it whenever they’ve visited with folks across the map. “I hope to build something better than before with those pieces. Not everything was broken, but enough of it needs to be destroyed completely.”

“A lofty goal,” Vincent murmured with a little nod of his head. Roz shook her head, closing her eyes with a small yawn.

“Yes, and one I doubt will come easily.”

“Then I pray the Lady will guide you to your goal.” Genuine was a hard thing to find these days, especially among those who tried to wriggle their way closer to Roz. But that’s exactly what she saw when she gazed over at Vincent. Her heart thumped again in her chest when he smiled at her and she prayed to Andraste Herself that he didn’t notice the flush that reappeared along her neck.

“Well, first I need to rescue my soldiers.” It was better to change topics, she thought, careful not to lean in too closely as she added, “What can you tell me about the castle in the swamp?” It wouldn’t hurt, she told herself, to enjoy being around him for a moment. Even if he were to leave them in the morning, his help had been a necessity. It didn’t hurt either that his smile gave Roz butterflies.

It’s a harmless daydream. I doubt I’ll see him again after this.

[andraste-preserve-us]

Happy Satinalia

Pairing: Cullen x Morgynn Trevelyan

Warnings: fluff, some angst involving Morgynn losing her arm, but only about a sentence or two.

A/N: Set post-Trespasser. I wanted to write something Christmassy. Thank you guys so much for following and reading my stuff and I hope you all have a great day and week, no matter what you celebrate.

Summary: Cullen is determined to make his and Morgynn’s first Satinalia as a married couple perfect. What he didn’t expect was for her to announce a life-changing surprise.

Cullen had agonized over this for weeks. It was his and Morgynn’s first Satinalia as a married couple. The ceremony had been four months before Satinalia, which was when he’d originally meant to propose. He had planned to take her to meet his family and propose to her by their home in South Reach. Mia’s home had a nice little forest behind it with a picturesque clearing. But he’d seen her playing with the mabari at the Winter Palace, looking at him like he was the sun, and the proposal had slipped from his mouth. She’d stared at him, slack-jawed, for several minutes as he sweated under his formal wear, before leaping into his arms and peppering his face with kisses. The ceremony had been just the two of them, along with Mother Giselle. While it hadn’t been exactly what he’d planned, it was still perfect.

Now he and his wife—his wife—were staying with Mia and his other siblings for two weeks. His sister had set them up in the spacious spare bedroom at the back corner of the house. All of his siblings had immediately loved Morgynn, just as he knew they would. He knew she was still getting used to living with only one arm, but other than that, she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, cuddling up to him whenever they had a moment alone. He had caught Morgynn and Mia whispering in the kitchen several nights in a row, making him wonder if everything was all right. Morgynn assured him it was, but Cullen knew something was going on. It made him even more determined to make sure her Satinalia was perfect.

As soon as the sun shown through the curtains, Cullen was awake, gently shaking his wife’s shoulder. Morgynn grumbled in reply, burrowing further into the army of blankets and pillows. They really didn’t need this many, but Rosalie had insisted. He had caught her a few times after they’d arrived dumping even more pillows on the bed. “Wake up, love.” Cullen pressed a gentle kiss to Morgynn’s hair. The sunlight that slipped through the curtains made her hair shine a brilliant red as he ran his fingers through the locks.

“It’s Satinalia,” she protested, her voice raspy from sleep. “We’re supposed to sleep in.”

He chuckled. “I have a surprise for you.”

She slowly opened one eye to look at him and he couldn’t help but laugh. The image of the fearless inquisitor, hair sticking up at odd angles, peeking at him with one squinty eye, was hilarious. “What is it?”

“Get dressed and come to the clearing with me and you’ll find out.”

She sighed, but smiled and complied. They were the first ones up, much to Cullen’s relief. He had been afraid that Mia and Branson’s children would come jump on their beds wanting to open presents before he had a chance to sneak away with his wife. His nieces and nephews of course loved her and she was fantastic with them. Rosalie was a good deal younger than all of them and yet to have children, although she had hinted she was seeing someone without giving too many details.

Cullen reached for Morgynn’s hand as they made their way through the forest behind Mia’s house. His hand grabbed empty air where his wife’s left hand used to be and he saw her shoulders sink in the dim morning light. He wanted to slap himself; Satinalia had barely started and he was already mucking this up. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him, kissing her hair.

After several more minutes of quiet—and Cullen remembering to grab the correct hand this time—Morgynn asked, “Where are we going?”

He shot a smile back at her. “Almost there, love.”

Morgynn paused once they reached the clearing. The tiny lake glittered in the rising sun and a blanket lay out on the grass with a basket on top. A tiny firepit that Cullen had dug the night before stood just next to the blanket to drive away the cold. His heart warmed as she beamed at him. He smiled in return before getting the fire going, sitting next to her and pulling her against his chest. They enjoyed a quiet breakfast, speaking of anything and everything, like they always did whenever they had the chance. He could talk to her for hours and never get bored.

Eventually, all the food was gone and Cullen knew his nieces and nephews would be waking. Mia hadn’t wanted to open presents without them, so he and Morgynn packed up their things and stomped the fire out. Snow had gently started to fall and Morgynn shuddered. Cullen shook the dirt off the blanket and wrapped it around his wife’s shoulders, leading her back to Mia’s with his arm around her shoulders.

Mia’s house was a flurry of excitement the moment Cullen and Morgynn stepped in the door. Everyone had been waiting on them and without even so much as a glance up, the children attacked their presents as soon as they crossed the threshold. They earned a scolding from their parents, but Cullen and Morgynn merely laughed and waved them off. After the ground had been littered with wrapping, the adults exchanged their own gifts. Cullen watched with baited breath as Morgynn opened the box that held an assortment of the type of tea she loved from Val Royoux, a few books she’d been wanting and a new set of daggers that had her initials engraved on the blade (her old daggers had become quiet dull over the past few years). Her smile was wide as she traced over the M.R. with her finger. “Thank you,” she breathed in his ear before giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

Cullen laughed at the low chorus of “Eeeeewwwww” from the children and answered just as quietly, “You’re welcome, love.”

“Now open yours.” She plopped a box and an envelope in his lap. “Open the box first.”

He raised a curious eyebrow, but set aside the envelope for the moment. He snorted as he tore open the lid. Several months ago, when Morgynn had asked him if he wanted anything for Satinalia, he’d jokingly replied, “A book about us by Varric.” Lo and behold, there lay a thin book with a badly drawn picture of Morgynn closing a rift and Cullen standing a few feet behind her with hearts for eyes and their mabari, Gregor, eating the bottom part of his mantle. The title read Dodge, Not Catch, the lesson he kept trying to teach Gregor without success. He flipped through the pages, scanning a few of the sentences before laying it off to the side, face-down.

“Is that you on the front?” Mia reached to grab the book, a wide smile on her face.

“No, you’re not getting that.” He held it far out of her reach, making sure the cover was still facing away from her. Morgynn laughed, twisting to reach to undoubtedly hand it to Mia. He feigned the best look of betrayal he could. “Stop that!”

She giggled and Mia fell back into her seat, disappointed. Morgynn pointed inside the box. “There’s more in there.”

Cullen chuckled, setting the book back on the couch next to him, safely tucked away from his wife and sister. Under a layer of protective paper, Cullen found what he at first thought was a coin. On closer inspection, he saw a lion engraved into the tiny circle of metal, the word “persevere” making a border. The opposite side held the same lion, but said “strength” instead. It was attached to a thin chain, just like the coin he had given to Morgynn all those years ago. Warmth bloomed in his chest as he smiled at his wife.

She blushed and looked away. “I thought we could match.” She pulled her own coin out from under her shirt for emphasis.

He merely kissed her in reply, letting his lips linger on hers despite the second chorus of disgusted noises from the children. “Thank you, darling. I love it.” He slipped it over his head, smiling at Morgynn and taking her hand in his. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. His chest felt it would burst, he was so happy. He hadn’t thought he would ever be this happy or even deserving of half the things Morgynn had given to him.

“Open your envelope,” she said, a hint of nervousness crossing her gaze.

“Oh!” He’d nearly forgotten, reluctantly letting go of her hand to tear it open. He unfolded the piece of paper inside, ignoring his siblings’ questions as he read his wife’s messy scrawl: You have another present coming, but it won’t be here for another nine months. He stared at the message for several more minutes, reading over and over again before turning to his wife with blurred vision.

“What’s wrong?” Mia asked, moving to get out of her chair. “Cullen—”

He held up a hand to stop her, eyes still on Morgynn. “Are you pregnant?”

She merely nodded and smiled.

He laughed, shooting up from his seat and lifting Morgynn with him. He picked her up and spun her around, burying his face in her hair as his siblings cried out their congratulations, the children too enraptured with their new toys to take notice.

He laughed breathlessly. “You’re pregnant.”

She nodded into his shoulder. “You’re going to be an amazing father.”

He pulled back to look at her, cupping her cheek in his hand. She reached up to wipe away the tears that he hadn’t even realized were falling down his cheeks. “Happy Satinalia, love.”

[pirateisabela]

5 OTPs and 10 Facts About Me

Thanks so much @gaysparkler for tagging me! 

I’m just trying to get some things done right now so I’m not going to tag anyone, but feel free to do this if you want!

This got a bit long, so I’m going to put a read more here :)

5 OTPs

Dorian x Inquisitor- Dorian is one of my favorite characters in DA, and his romance is one of my favorite ships, too. It’s just so sweet, and his character and dialogue are just so powerful and heart-wrenching.

Alistair x Warden- Alistair was the first person I romanced in Dragon Age. My love for Dragon Age grew from that first play through, and even now, Alistair’s romance and character are just so important to me. I know he and his relationship have flaws—just like any character and romance—but it will always have a special place in my heart.

Arizona Robbins x Callie Torrez- Okay, after the plane crash, their relationship kind of sucked. I know they had their problems, but they were a canon gay couple. On a tv show that even my mom watches. It’s so big. I love both of the characters so much (maybe a certain orthopedic surgeon a little bit more than almost every other character), even if they just weren’t meant to be in the end. At least all of it ended on a civil note, though, after everything.

Amanita Caplan x Nomi Marks- They are great in so many ways. So many ways. They are in a wonderful, healthy relationship, and they care about each other so much. Nomi is a trans woman and Amanita is a black woman, both of which do not get enough representation in the media, especially with the two combined. Just… I love them so much.

Tristan x Yvaine- Stardust is one of my all-time favorite movies. The ending, man. Ugh. I love them.

Honourable mentions- Isabela x Hawke, Leliana x Warden, Liara x Shepard, Garrus x Shepard, Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers, Jack Harkness x Ianto Jones, Lexie Grey x Mark Sloan, Meredith Grey x Derek Shepard, Meredith Grey x Nathan Riggs (though I haven’t seen the latest season so maybe that’s a no), Meredith Grey x Derek Shepard x Callie Torrez (let me have this), Sam Winchester x Gabriel, Hernando Fuentes x Lito Rodriguez, Kaidan x Shepard, Zevran x Warden, Fenris x Hawke, Anders x Hawke, Iron Bull x Dorian, Josephine x Inquisitor, Cassandra x Inquisitor, Sera x Inquisitor, Michael x Jane (from Jane the Virgin)

10 Facts about me

1. I’m learning Spanish right now. I’m absolutely terrible at it and DuoLingo says I’m only 30% fluent, but I’m slowly learning it. I want to be completely fluent in Spanish and another language besides my native one—probably Portuguese, French, or Russian.

2. I plan on majoring in English with a concentration in Creative Writing. I’m not exactly sure what kind of career I’m going to pursue, but writing several books is in my life plan. So is traveling.

3. I have a half-brother (eleven years older than me), a sister (exactly fifteen months younger than me), a stepsister (six years older than me), and a stepbrother (I’ve only seen him like twice, he’s kind of estranged from my stepdad and idk anything about him other than his name is Kaidan and he was out of high school a few years ago). The half-brother is from my dad’s son from a previous relationship, and he lives in California. My sister and I have the same parents and have lived together our whole lives. My stepsister lived with us for like three years before she said graduated high school.

4. I played sports in elementary school. I (cheerleaded? cheered? cheerled?) for a year, I played basketball for two, and I played softball for six. I sucked at everything, except for cheerleading I guess. We won third place in this weird competition, and I want to say there was some scandal and bribing going on because I vaguely remember my coach telling my team that someone cheated or something and we should have had first or second. I just…stopped going to cheerleading practice my second year because my cousin quit and it was way too hot outside for me to be the only one out of my cousin, my sister, and me to still be in it (my sister dropped out of football, too). My basketball team my first year only had five people (you needed five to have a team), and we usually always at least one of the five people not show up to a game, so we had to borrow people from another team so we could play. We didn’t win a single game. I had a different team my second year, and they were way better. I made my first foul that year, and my coach was so happy. He thought it was a sign that I was actually going to participate, that I would be a valuable member of the team. Angels came down from the heavens and played their little angel trumpets while he cried and said prayers of thanks to whatever gods above there were. That was the best day of his life. (I didn’t make another foul or a single basket after that day. He eventually stopped trying and only put me in the court because everyone had to play at some point.) With softball, after the first year, the team was spilt into two: the kids who had a future in softball, and everyone else. I was on the “everyone else” team. I practically lived in the outfield, even after that. It was really boring tbh and whenever a ball did get near me, I either shyed away from it or I was too busy daydreaming to see it. Also I went to third base once instead of first and still made it to the base before they could tag me out. I thought it was pretty great but my coach still wasn’t happy. My coach for the first five years a.k.a. my uncle stopped coaching after my cousin didn’t want to play anymore, so I had to join a new team. We were called the Skittles. I was a fifth grader playing softball with a bunch of middle schoolers. I ended up with two black eyes that year because I got distracted during the practice before two different games. That was my last year of sports. Oh, and I’m still afraid of things flying towards my face.

5. I have four cats and two dogs. Until recently, I had four dogs, but one of them was like sixteen years old and passed away this year (we got him after his owner, a close friend of my mom and stepdad, died in 2015) and the other, attacked our fifteen year old dog who we’ve had since I was like three. My mom and my sister are very protective of the feeble old man dog, so the one who attacked him was given to one of my stepdad’s friends within hours.

6. I am from the United States. Unfortunately x) Okay, it wouldn’t be so bad if we didn’t have people like the Great Big Orange mucking around or people who,,,don’t know what compassion is. But yeah. I feel like it could be a really good place, but there are just some people who don’t want that to happen (America has never been great, stfu).

7. When I was about eight, I tried cleaning a Cambell’s chicken soup can and cut the side of my thumb. My mom (who’s a nurse) had to superglue it back together. I still have a faint baby scar on my left hand from it. (Also I would like to add that I did it because my grandmother would keep pencils and stuff in this giant soup can at her house. Idk why it worked for her and not me but oh well now I have a weird-ass story I can put on “ten facts about me” so I guess it worked  out for the best)

8. I’m such a procrastinator guys. I was tagged in this like a month ago. I even do it with things that are important to me, like writing. I’m going to psycho-analyze myself for a minute and say that it’s probably because I have a fear of failure and a fear of people not liking me/making fun of me/etc. If I don’t ever finish writing That One Thing then that means I can’t ever post it, and if I don’t ever post it that means it won’t only get three likes and one rebloob and no one will criticize it or say that it sucked. I’m trying to work past it, but it’s not like I have a great amount of self-esteem x)

9. I have an unhealthy obsession with dragons (but I didn’t start playing Dragon Age because of it)

10. When I bought an Xbox 360 my freshman year (in 2014), I was trying to find some games to try, and my friend, Tony, spoke very highly of Dragon Age. I also remembered my cousin (whom I’ve always regarded very highly) talk about it with my sister a year or two earlier, so I decided to buy Dragon Age 2 and Dragon Age Origins, along with a few others. I didn’t actually play Origins for a few months and it took me a few months to finish my first play through, but by the time I finished the game (with a little over 80 hours), I was hooked.

[shannaraisles]

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 46 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: Language! Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

Never A Moment

She had to tell Cullen.

What a fun conversation that would be. How do you tell a devout workaholic with past trauma issues operating under too much stress and an honorable streak a mile wide that you're carrying his illegitimate love child? How the hell is he going to react? She couldn't even process how she was feeling. Panic was reasonably high on the list, closely followed by shock and abject terror. This couldn't be happening. Whose bright idea was it to make her give birth in a place where epidurals and proper surgery didn't exist?

"Evy," she called to her friend, ducking out of the tent once she'd tidied away the evidence. "I need to talk to the commander about something. Are you all right to hold the fort here for a little while?"

Evy looked up from her work, a faint flicker of concern crossing her face as she took a good look at Rory. "Of course," she answered easily enough. "The nurses have everything under control - I just have to show the new healer around. Are you all right?"

Right, so I look as pale as I feel. Great. "I'm fine," Rory promised her with a weak smile. "Just a little tired, but what else is new?"

The younger woman didn't look convinced, but she knew when not to push. "Take your time," she told her friend. "It's just recovery care right now, anyway."

"Hopefully I won't be too long," Rory assured her, though she had no way of knowing that.

It wasn't as though she could knock, walk in, drop the news, and immediately skip out. If she was lucky, his response wouldn't be audible all over Skyhold or hazardous to his continued health, but whether luck was with her or not, this wasn't a quick conversation in the making. Should she even take this to him now? He was swamped with work; this was just another headache to drop on him, and it wasn't even a headache he had any power to influence. It was a fact. And while there was a way to make it go away ... Rory didn't want to do that. She couldn't imagine Cullen pushing for her to do it, either. So that was that. She was a mum, for better or for worse. Holy crap, I am so screwed. A world of what ifs were open ahead of her, too many to make coherent sense. The panic was simmering - it, at least, was going to be with her in some capacity for the next, oh ... twenty years or so.

The nearest gatehouse tower was still closed off while workers toiled to make it safe. She could have passed under the stone arch and used the steps up to the battlement there - it was the fastest route to Cullen's office. Her feet, however, took her up the stone steps to the upper courtyard. It seemed as though her panic was enough to make her delay this inevitable conversation, even if it was only for a few more minutes. Her mind was racing. Now she thought about it, how could she have missed the symptoms? She was more tired than usual; her toilet breaks more regular; her sense of smell more acute; she did ache in some very specific places. She hadn't had any morning sickness, but then, some women didn't, did they?

So how long do I have, she wondered, lost in thought as she climbed the steps to the main hall. The only mistake had been that night, and that was ... Rory frowned, counting the weeks in her head. Seven or eight, so two months ago, give or take. Seven months to learn as much about midwifery and babies as she could. That really wasn't long enough.

"Looking very serious, Cupcake," a familiar voice drawled nearby.

She blinked, finding herself by the hearth in the hall, with Varric eyeing her from his table. "Hmm?"

"Serious," the dwarf repeated, laying down his quill. "You, looking very. Problems?"

"When aren't there problems?" she asked evasively, chuckling a little in spite of her turmoil. "No, I'm just thinking. Sometimes it hurts."

"Last thing we need is you and Curly with headaches," Varric commented mildly. "Just him is bad enough."

Great, he's having another bad day without telling me. She sighed wearily. "How bad?"

"He's just cranky," her dwarven friend assured her. "Pretty sure a visit from his girl would clear that right up."

"I'm not making any promises," she answered, feeling her anxiety ratchet up a notch. If he's already cranky, this isn't going to go well. Yay. "What are you working on?"

"Huh? Oh, this?" A very nearly evil smile crossed Varric's face. "His illustrious Inquisitorialness wants the next chapter of Swords and Shields for Cassandra."

Rory's eyes narrowed warningly at the mischief in his face. "Varric ... don't you dare muck up their relationship just to get a petty jab in at Cassandra."

"Would I do that?" he asked innocently.

"Yes. Yes, you would."

He chuckled, conceding the point. "Well, I'm not," he promised faithfully. "If only because I think you and Ruffles would hold me down and stab me with my own quill if I did."

She snorted with laughter. "You could be right."

Josephine had worked out that Kaaras liked Cassandra when he'd asked her to explain his book of Antivan poetry to him. The ambassador was a staunch defender of the drive to give the Seeker and the Inquisitor alone time in the hope that one of them would crack and just admit to being in love. She'd even expressed a certain frustration that they didn't even argue properly, unlike Cullen and ...

Rory's smile abruptly faded as she remembered why she was here in the first place.

"All right, Cupcake, what's hurting?" Varric asked, his face creased in a worried frown. "I've never seen you lose a smile that fast before."

Rory sighed, shaking her head. "It's nothing you can fix, Varric," she told him reluctantly. Wish you could. "I'll deal with it."

He eyed her for a moment with vague suspicion, but managed to suppress his natural desire to help with whatever it was. "Here if you need a splendid chest to lean on."

She smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

"Heads up, though," he added, jerking his chin toward the other end of the hall. "Ruffles incoming."

"What?"

Rory glanced over her shoulder, surprised to find Josephine bearing down on her like a woman on a mission. It was unusual to find the Antivan woman out of her office before dinner, but apparently some things required her to seek people out personally.

"Mistress Allen, I am glad to find you here," the ambassador said with a purposeful brightness to her tone that instantly made Rory suspicious. "Madame De Fer's seamstress has arrived. She would like to see both yourself and Lady Trevelyan this afternoon, to begin designing your gowns."

The healer just about managed to bite down on her groan. This was all she needed right now - dress plotting for Halamshiral. "I'll tell Evy," she promised politely. "I think her wedding gown is a little higher on the list of priorities."

"We have only two months to help you prepare for the Imperial Court," Josephine reminded her. "Though several people need that preparation as well. You will not be alone in your lessons."

"I can't promise to always have time for those lessons, Josephine," Rory countered, but the Antivan lady was already ahead of her.

"We will, of course, work around your duties," she insisted with easy aplomb. "You will need to be aware of courtly etiquette and dance, that is all."

Oh, is that all? Lovely. Knowing she couldn't get out of this, Rory decided to give in gracefully. "All right. Just let me know when."

"I will keep you informed," Josephine agreed. "but you must see the seamstress today."

"I will," Rory promised her. "I have things to do first, but I will." Things like give the commander a heart attack and then cry for a solid hour. Shouldn't interfere too much, should it?

She turned to open the door into the rotunda, unsurprised to hear Josephine focus her attention to Varric as she slipped into what was now Solas' work space. Empty, of course, with the elven apostate in the Emerald Graves with Kaaras, but still very much his space. From high above, she heard the croak and flap of the ravens in the rookery and, a little closer, another familiar voice calling down to her.

"If it isn't my favorite unicorn!"

Biting back a frustrated reply, she turned, tilting her head back to find Dorian leaning over the railing above her. "Unicorn?" she repeated incredulously. "Seriously?"

He laughed at her expression. "Perhaps not," the mage conceded with an ostentatious shrug. "Come up, I have something for you."

Can't this wait? But despite her faint annoyance, she wouldn't say no to Dorian. With a rueful smile, she altered her course, turning to take the steps up to the library. It's only a few minutes, she reasoned with herself. You've got about a month to break the news before it becomes blatantly obvious; a few minutes isn't going to make any difference.

Dorian was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. "You're looking done in again," he said, by way of hello. "Tell me, do you ever sleep a full night?"

"Occasionally," Rory heard herself say, a split second before her brain reminded her just who she was talking to.

"How marvelous," the altus teased brightly. "Who would have thought the commander had it in him?"

This time, the answer was out before she could stop it. "I think you'll find it's more often in me." There was a beat as she caught up with herself. "I did not just say that."

"Yes, darling, you did." Dorian laughed, pleased with her snarky reply. "I'm delighted for you."

Mortified and blushing, Rory rubbed her forehead. Why pick today, of all days, to revert to the blurting nug-woman with no boundaries? You've been doing so well! "You said you had something for me?" she asked in a desperate attempt to take control of the conversation.

"It isn't as exciting as what Cullen gives you," the mage warned, chuckling at her slightly outraged squeak of embarrassment. "You are utterly adorable when you're embarrassed, you know. But, as I promised, I have put together a small medical library for you."

Instantly, her embarrassment was gone. "Really?" she asked, curiosity mingling with excitement as she followed him to his little corner of the library, where he indicated a small stack of books on the table. "Thank you! I didn't think you were serious when you suggested it."

"My dear girl, when I say I will do a thing, it gets done," Dorian informed her comfortably. "You were in something of a lather about the gaps in your knowledge."

Rory tilted her head to read the spines. The Leech Book of Vald, Genitivi's Compendium of Thedosian Medicine, Plinth's Anatomical Studies, De Materia Medica, Historia Naturali ... She paused as she found a title that had nothing to do with medicine at all, clearing her throat to get his attention as she extracted Swords and Shields, Vol. III, from the pile. Dorian didn't even blink.

"It's your turn to read the dreadful thing," he pointed out, "though where you find the time to read, I have no idea."

Laughing, Rory put the book down. She actually rather enjoyed Swords and Shields - it was terrible, but entertainingly so. "I don't suppose there's anything on midwifery in this pile, is there?"

"Sadly, no," the mage told her. "Why? Is our blushing bride expecting, too?"

"No," she answered, her smile just a little wan. If only. "But I know virtually nothing about it, and now we're settled again, it's a certainty that someone's going to ... slip."

She wasn't sure she liked the way he was looking at her, but thankfully, he didn't say anything aloud. "I will keep my eyes open for you," he promised instead. "Should I have these delivered to the tower? I saw the workers manhandling a bed in there earlier, so I assume you are moving out of your charming tent at last."

"That would be lovely." She reached up to hug him gratefully, waiting until he responded before pulling back. One of these days, he was going to react instantly to her hugs, but she was patient enough to work on it slowly. "Thank you, Dorian."

"It's my pleasure to be lovely," he answered, the fingertips of his right hand brushing over the smooth curve of her flat stomach, one brow raised curiously. There could be no doubt what he was asking, though she was deeply grateful for his discretion.

She felt the determinedly calm facade she was holding in place crack just a little. "Keep it to yourself?" she whispered, the panic shining through briefly.

Dorian's mustache twitched as he smiled far more gently than she had expected. "Until he tells me, of course," he agreed without a moment's hesitation. And Cullen would tell him, she realized. The two men's friendship had blossomed far quicker than she had expected. "That does rather require you telling him."

"I'm working on it," she promised softly. "I was on my way to try, actually."

"Good." Dorian patted her hand gently. "Don't let me detain you."

Encouraged by his calm confidence, Rory headed back down the stairs, crossing the rotunda to the external door with his eyes on her back all the way. She had a feeling that deviating from her course would result in her being frog-marched directly to Cullen and possibly locked in with him until she 'fessed up. Dorian Pavus might only ever openly admit to having one friend, but he was compulsively protective of all the friends he made. Making her tell the truth through sheer bloody-mindedness was not beyond him. And, besides, he was right. Cullen needed to know. He deserved to know first.

It was breezier up here than it had been in the courtyards. Tucking her arms inside her cloak, she headed across the stone bridge, ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine at the icy gusts that rushed her, albeit gently. Pausing at the door, she knocked, wincing at the sharp, "Come!" that answered her. Sounds like he's in a wonderful mood. She pushed open the door, peering inside warily.

Cullen was standing behind his large desk, leaning on the surface as he scowled down at the papers that covered it. The two other doors to the tower stood open, allowing that healthy breeze to rush through, ruffling his weighted paperwork as it did. He looked tired and angry, and that vein in his temple was throbbing again. The elfroot potion she always made sure he had plenty of was sitting on the desk by his hand. Headache or no headache, here goes nothing.

"Are you busy?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

He raised his eyes from the desk, and his scowl melted away at the sight of her, replaced with a weary smile that made her heart ache pleasantly. "I can always make time for you," he assured her quietly.

"But not to take the potion that will deal with that headache," she pointed out. Despite the anxious knot in her stomach, her smile was fond as she moved toward him, stepping over fallen debris to do so.

"I was just about to," he told her, the guilty cast to his expression telling her the bottle had been sitting there for a good hour or more. Under her knowing gaze, he unstopped the potion and took a healthy gulp, grimacing at the taste.

"Have you taken a break at all today?" she asked then, again knowing he hadn't before he admitted to it.

"There's so much to do," he tried to say, but Rory was just as stubborn as he was. It was part of the reason he'd noticed her in the first place.

"And nothing is going to fall apart if you take ten minutes to walk the battlements with me," she informed him, her expression daring her lover to argue. "Please?"

Cullen's brows drew together in concern at the unexpected plea. "Are you all right?" he asked her, straightening to come out from behind the desk.

Just that tender concern was enough to destabilize her composure, but she managed to keep it together. "I'm worried about you," she told him. It wasn't a lie; it just wasn't the truth, either. "Ten minutes, that's all I'm asking."

He held her gaze for a long moment, clearly trying to decide if he should be worried. "Ten minutes," he agreed finally, laying a hand at the small of her back to escort her out into the sunshine.

They walked in silence along the crenelated battlements, passing the guard patrolling this section before coming to a halt to look out over the snowy vista side by side. Cullen's fingers brushed hers, a single point of contact that meant the world to her as she struggled to find the words for what she needed to say. I'm pregnant was too blunt, too unexpected. Marry me, I'm up the duff likely wouldn't go down too well. Remember that time against the tree lacked the gentle tone she thought he needed. What about ...

She squeaked as his arm wrapped about her waist, drawing her close into his side. "You're fidgeting," he murmured against her temple. "Why so nervous?"

A low sigh escaped her lips. "Because there's something I need to tell you," she confessed, tilting her head to look up at him. "And you might not be happy about it."

"I already know you're going to the Winter Palace," he told her in a disapproving tone. "Which you somehow failed to tell me yourself."

Red heat spilled guiltily across her cheeks. Is that better, or worse, she wondered. "No, it's not that."

The wrap of his arm squeezed supportively about her back. "What is it, then?"

"I, um ..."

But Fate has a funny sense of humor. Sometimes it enjoys throwing obstacles in your path. In this case, as Rory braced herself to share her news ... it threw a goat at the outer wall directly below them. She distinctly heard the bleat, and the splat, leaning forward to look down at the man who had thrown it as Cullen exclaimed in affronted surprise.

"What in the name of -" He drew back from her, already shouting to his men. "Detain that man!"

As the soldiers scrambled to catch the Avvar hooting in satisfaction on the mountainside below, he began to follow, only to turn back to her with an apologetic look in his eyes. She sighed, shaking her head with a helpless laugh.

"It'll keep," she promised, waving him away. He needed his duty to come first, at least until he could make the decision about his priorities. "Go."

With a last concerned look, Cullen moved away, quickly out of sight. Rory turned back to the view, leaning against the gray stone to watch as the Inquisition apprehended Movran the Under with no small difficulty. Typical, she thought resignedly. Goatus interruptus.

[arbitraryallegory]

Extremely niche post

hahaha wherein I work through an issue I have with Dragon Age Inquisition in my usual meandering way fml

So, I’ve been playing Dragon Age Inquisition. I picked it up at Gamestop because they were having a buy 3 get 1 free sale and I wanted FFXII Zodiac Age, FFXV, and the Kingdom Hearts collection. I had a different game as my fourth, but the salesperson told me I needed the playstation subscription thing to play it, so I passed. I asked her if she had any recommendations based on the games I was buying and she suggested DAI, so I was like okay. I play games so little that I’d probably never get around to it anyway.

About 2 weeks ago, I put it in on a whim and very quickly got hooked. I’m not a gamer. I’ll go months without picking up a controller, but sometimes I want to play ever second of free time I have. When I play I play for fun, not for the purity of the experience, so fuck yeah I play on normal (I’ll probably even do casual if I do another playthrough) and I walkthrough the hell out of it and google every big decision I make, because I am also absolutely the type of person who will go back and replay 20 hours if a decision I made earlier breaks bad.

Here’s the thing. I’m playing as a girl Levellan (Dalish elf) mage Inquisitor (named Ghilanna) and I romanced Sera (city elf rogue) before I spoiled myself for what a bad idea that is in my case. 

(Ongoing I’m going to assume whoever is reading this is at least slightly familiar with dragon age lore or else what are you doing lol. Go read the wikipedia, I guarantee you get lost down a rabbit hole for hours.)

I’m playing my Inquisitor as open minded, but absolutely connected to her heritage (if not completely devout to the elven pantheon), and skeptical of the Andrastian religion, the Chantry in particular since they’re responsible for a lot of the things that have happened to the elves. She denies being the Herald of Andraste if asked, but is content to let most people believe what they want. One of the things I love most about Inquisition is that it gives you a lot of room for imagination, so you can headcanon many different motivations for the same decision. 

In my mind, Ghilanna has taken on this burden of the Inquisition mainly because it’s the right thing to do; she’s the only one with the ability to close these rifts in the Veil, but even if that wasn’t the case she could never turn her back on innocent people--no matter what race they are. But she’s smart and she is very shrewd, so I also think she sees this as an opportunity to lift her people out of the mire and muck. With the Inquisition’s resources, the friends she’s made, the favors she’s owed--even when she disbands the Inquisition at the end of all this (provided they win, of course) she’ll still have quite a bit of personal power and prestige, and she plans on wielding it to make the world a better place for everyone, especially elves. It’s why I’ve been so circumspect in choosing customization for Skyhold. Inquisition heraldry and banners and throne, to show that everyone is welcome, no matter where they come from. I allowed Chantry drapes for the Andrastian’s comfort, but I chose Elven stained glass windows and Dalish banner crowns.

This is where the problem with Sera comes in. Sera is a city elf, which means she was in an alienage at least for a little while (Alienages are basically walled slums in cities where elves are sequestered. It’s almost impossible to get out of them and live in the city proper, and the few who manage it are usually driven back eventually). She was adopted by a human woman when she was a small child, and the woman--though she seemed to be at least mostly well-meaning--told some terrible lies that gave Sera a ton of trust issues. She’s internalized the discrimination against elves to a really heartbreaking point. She rejects any attempt to connect with her as an elf by making scathing remarks about being “too elfy”; she’s human trained so she can’t wear armor for elf-trained rogues. She feels like other elves look down on her, so she takes the initiative and repels them first and rejects every single aspect of elven culture. It’s incredibly difficult to romance her as an elven Inquisitor (which should have been a clue to what was coming tbh)

As I said, I spoiled myself after I’d already managed (somehow) to get on her good side and start up a romance with her. It turns out that after a certain quest, Sera tells the Inquistor that she thinks something that happened on the quest was bullshit. I’m not clear on exactly what happens, but I’m pretty sure it involves the old elven gods. Sera wants the inquisitor to agree with her that it’s total bullshit and what they saw wasn’t real, because how can THAT be real AND the Maker of Andrastian faith both be real? If the inquisitor disagrees and thinks there’s a chance it was real, or even that it’s at least worth exploring, she’s then given another chance when Sera pleads with her to lie about it! Say it was all nonsense so things can go back to normal with them. If the Inquisitor refuses to lie to her, Sera breaks off the relationship and there’s no way to get her back and all the other romances are also locked after this point.

Interestingly (frustratingly) Sera will have this fight with Inquisitors of other races, but she’ll only dump an elven Inquisitor, accusing her of thinking Sera’s not elfy enough and that they don’t fit. I watched the scene and my blood pressure went THROUGH THE ROOF.

Consensus seems to be that Sera is just overwhelmed and eventually comes around, but this whole thing really leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I could’ve taken the easy way out and just lied to Sera, but I honestly don’t think Ghilanna would ever do that. First of all, Sera has made a big fuss about the Inquisitor being one of the few people she can trust, so she’d never ever lie to her. Second of all, this is a stupid argument!! Where is my “Lets not fight about this right now.” option???? I’d even take the “It has nothing to do with us” if only it didn’t include the line about it being nonsense! Third of all, how dare you spoil my adorable lesbian romance?????

Anyway, it killed my enjoyment of the romance, and I’m a weenie who can’t even break up with an AI so I restarted from a save point 16 hours prior and replayed the game without romancing her. Maybe someday I’ll do a whole new playthrough with a Qunari or a Dwarf and romance her. The only people I can’t romance with this character are Dorian and Cassandra and I can’t do Sera if I’m a male, so it would be another whole playthrough just for Sera basically. smdh.

Anyway I just wanted to vent.

[faslaidir]

“ Lets run away together. ” or “ You’re teasing me again… ” For Theros/Dorian maybe? ;A; i need fluff of those two guys omg

He breathed in the scent of Halamshiral (trees, vineyards, wide open plains, and lemon), let it fill his lungs and spread through his body. Tilting his head back, he stared up at the bright blue sky, marred only by the softest of clouds and a thin green scar that matched the Mark on his hand, and squinted a little in the sunlight. He could hear a bevy of accents rise and fall in harmonious chaos in the near distance; Orlesian, Fereldan, Elven, Dwarven, Qunari, all blending into a chattering symphony in the background. On a whim, Theros screwed up his face and tried to pick out the voices of his friends from the blend, with little success, until footfalls that were achingly familiar broke through his concentration.

“Sweet Andraste, is this the Inquisitor I have stumbled upon, sunning himself like a kitten, suspiciously far away from all the actual goings-on of the day?”

Theros flicked a wayward strand of hair out of his face and grinned. “Hello Dorian.”

The man made his way down and took a seat on the steps beside Theros with a sigh. “No interest in all the lying and cheating that are the pastime of the nobility, I take it?”

“I’m sure I’ll be subjected to no end of it once the Exalted Council begins.”

“Hmmm…” Dorian mused, glancing into Theros’ eyes, then off into the distance. “I imagine this must all be very upsetting for you.” Theros looked up questioningly, but Dorian would not meet his gaze as he continued, “Halamshiral…Exalted Council…humans deciding your fate. It’s all very true to form for Orlais, isn’t it? Hits a bit too close to home.”

Theros frowned. “Because I’m an elf, you mean? It’s supposed to feel like the oppression of my people all over again?”

“Doesn’t it?” Dorian replied, finally looking back and meeting Theros’ eyes head on. There was a moment’s pause, hanging there like the two years of war that harried at the back of their minds, molding them into slightly different people, close enough to still be recognizable, to still be wanted, but different enough to be noticed and to worry.

Theros said, “If it were up to me, I would make the decision to end the Inquisition, right here, right now.”

He had expected to draw a reaction from Dorian, perhaps surprise, shock, dismay, but Dorian only raised his eyebrows with a flighty grimace. “But will it be up to you, I wonder.”

Theros had the startling urge to grab the lapel of Dorian’s coat, followed by the even more surprising desire to press his lips up against Dorian’s, to taste the same old lips again, to coax out the flavor of those Tevinter sweets that had sated Dorian’s appetite while he was so far away from Theros’ side, to run his tongue over the teeth that had smiled at a thousand Tevinter nobles but had not smiled for Theros in what seemed like centuries.

He did neither of those things. Instead, he reached out a hand and set it on Dorian’s knee. It was a sudden gesture, and his hand moved more quickly than he might have liked, covering Dorian’s leg in a soft grip, splashing his leg in the green light that radiated from the Mark.

“I’m not the sort of elf who shuts up easily,” he said, with a roguish grin. “You of all people should know that.”

Dorian regarded Theros’ hand with an inscrutable expression for what seemed like an age. Then a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips under that ridiculous mustache, and he covered Theros’ hand with one of his own. “I suppose I do,” he murmured softly, threading his fingers around the edge of Theros’ and raising his hand slightly off his knee. A curious expression spread over his face, some sort of a mixture between concern, fear, and horror, but it only lasted a moment, and he laid Theros’ hand back down on top of his knee. He looked back into Theros’ face with a fond smile and sighed.

“Let’s run away together,” he said quietly.

Theros narrowed his eyes, then scoffed. “You’re teasing me again, Dorian.”

“No, really.” Dorian insisted, and there was a hint of dreaminess in the back of his throat as he spoke. “Forget Halamshiral, forget the nobles, forget the whole bloody Exalted Council, let’s just…you and me. Let’s go somewhere where they’ll never find us. We can even forgo shoes if you like. We’ll find somewhere wet and muddy and very…foresty, just your sort of thing.”

“Sounds delightful. What about your bathing habits though?”

“Find me a stream. I’ve suffered worse on our adventures back in the day.”

Theros snickered, and Dorian chuckled, as the two of them were suddenly awash in memories of journeys through strange landscapes, fighting monsters, closing rifts, saving the entire world, and coming back into each other’s arms at night to tend to the other’s wounds and clean the muck out of their hair and clothes.

But those were memories, and the adventures were long gone. Time and politics had made them two very different people from the once eager adventurers who had thrown themselves into all of life’s madness with a whoop and a carefree quip

“Perhaps after the Council,” Theros suggested. “Maybe when all this is over…we’ll find our own way. A new home.”

“Far away from it all?”

“Maybe even across the Waking Sea.”

“Ugh, into the Free Marches? Where all my distant cousins live? No no no, we’ll have to go much further than that, I’m afraid.”

A gleam appeared in Theros’ eyes. “Into uncharted plains? Unexplored oceans? While we fight sea monsters and dragons?”

“More dragons? Amatus, really, don’t you think we’ve seen enough dragons to last any respectable Thedosian and their children’s children’s children all their combined lifetimes?”

Theros laughed. “Perhaps you’re right, Vhenan. Though I expect I’ll have to face a few more at this council. Did you see Arl Teagan? He rather reminded me of that one we fought in the Hinterlands.”

“The Fereldan Frostback? Maker, don’t remind me. I feel like I only just regained the full expanse of my eyebrows.”

Theros shifted in his seat, then leaned over, closing the distance between himself and Dorian, and kissed him. He meant it to be a soft, fond peck, but he found he could not pull away, particularly not when Dorian’s lips moved against his, and certainly not when he felt Dorian’s warm breath against his skin.

They remained that way for a long time, until Theros finally let out a sigh and relaxed, leaning his forehead against Dorian’s and closing his eyes.

“Amatus?” Dorian said softly.

“Vhenan.”

“Burn the fucking Inquisition to the ground if you must.”

Theros smiled. “Ma nuvenin, vhenan.”

[calamity-writes]

In Glory and Gore - Interim

Highever, some time ago

Highever swarmed with guards ever since word arrived about the attack on Houndshome and the disappearance of Ferelden's youngest Royal. The little village was still smouldering when Princess Eleanor rode up to it, hair streaming behind her in the wind and rain.

"Your Highness," the local magistrate greeted her with a nervous bow, watching as the princess dismounted from the Ferelden charger, striding through the mud towards him. "We're still trying to determine what happened."

"I'll tell you what happened," Eleanor snapped, handing the Magistrate the reins to the horse. "Slavers. That's what happened. And you let them take your Prince." The Magistrate withered under the Princess's angry look. He mumbled an apology, and pointed towards the Inn.

"Th-they were at the Inn. There's a few Inquisition survivors that might-"

Eleanor glared at him and the Magistrate shut his mouth with an audible clack of teeth.

"Why is the Inquisition in my teyrnir without anyone telling me?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"I..don't know," the man admitted, glancing towards the Inn nervously. "I can find out, your Highness. I'll go find out, right away."

"Do so," Eleanor said. "And then tend your resignation as Magistrate. I'll find your replacement once this mess has been resolved." First a prince kidnapped, then an armed force already on tenuous agreement with Ferelden was found mysteriously at the scene? Someone was going to give her answers, and Maker help those who didn't.

Striding through muck and rubble to the survivors, Eleanor watched with no small pleasure as the Inquisition soldiers eyes widened and they tried to stand to salute.

"Shut up," she said before they could start babbling. "You are going to tell me what happened, why you're here and which direction they went, and then you are going to be escorted to the Frostbacks to prevent this Maker-damned alliance from slipping any further."

Once strong allies, since the Inquisitor had handed the effective control of the Inquisition to that De Fer woman, things had gone downhill. Finding an armed Inquisition force in her terynir had just stripped any remaining goodwill from Eleanor.

"You," she said, jabbing a finger at a dwarf in Inquisition armor. "Talk."

"Ma'am," the dwarf said, throwing a salute despite the thick bandage around his hand. "We apologize ma'am. Master Hanin was out to visit the Springs here, we were his escort. He was with your brother and someone else when the Vints showed up."

El watched the dwarf through narrow eyes, turning that new piece of information over. The Inquisitor's son who rarely left the nest of Skyhold was also taken?

"With respect, I would ask that we are allowed to join the search, it is our fault that Master Hanin-"

"No," El said sharply. "You had your chance, and this is still Ferelden soil, in case you've forgotten. Moreover," she added, starting to pace in front of the sorry looking soldiers. "Someone chose to attack the Inn instead of the farms which would be an easier target. Someone knew there was a target worth the risk of attacking in town."

The dwarf blanched, and El's lips curled into a tight, angry smile.

"Had the Inquisition not tresspassed on my land my brother would be safe. Now," she said, turning to face the inquisition troops square on. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them.

"Who was this 'other' person? who was taken with them?"

The innkeeper, sitting off to the side as the local healer tended to him, cleared his throat.

"An Elf your highness. White hair, tiny, didn't speak a word, though she knew how to write." He frowned slightly. "one of those Dalish, I think. I didn't know they even knew how to write. She helped the Prince since he was injured. He said something about owing her for her help."

"Thank you," El said to the man, the sharpness of her voice easing. "You have been //actually// helpful, unlike so many here today."  The Inquisition soldiers shrank slightly as she glared their way.

"Did you see which direction the Vints left in?" She asked, walking over to crouch in front of the innkeep. The man was sitting on a bench by the Inn's door, and he had a nasty bruise spreading across his jaw to his face.

"No my lady, but my boy Nethen said he spotted a ship at anchor out by Mabari point. With no colours flying."

El nodded, and took the innkeep's hand, giving it a grateful squeeze. He smiled through the pain and squeezed her hand back.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I'll send builders to help repair your Inn. You've been of great service." 

"We will never forget what we owe your Mother," he murmured. "I only wish I had been able to take down one of those Vint bastards before they got to your brother."

"I'll be sure to mark the first one I kill as yours," El assured the Innkeeper. She gave his hand a last squeeze, and stood. There sat a real Ferelden, unlike the sorry bastards who had decided to allow the Inquisition to come and go as it pleased without notifying the Crown or Teryn either.

Days passed in hurried searching and preparation. Agents of the crown spread out into the Free Marches to check ports and known trade routes for any news of a ship matching the one spotted at Highever's coast. Quiet inqueries returned vague information at best. The ship was bound for Tevinter as expected, but there was no manifest, no name to track.

Whoever had greased the palms had done it too well, leaving Eleanor increasingly frustrated.

This was her baby brother, someone had taken him. It didn't matter that he was an adult, he was still the small baby brother she'd carefully held on her lap and who had listened intently to her halting words as she practiced her reading. This was the boy who she'd missed desperately when he had to go away to that damn circle.

Her baby brother was out there, injured, and in the hands of Vint slavers who likely had no idea who they had chanced upon.

"You'll wear a hole in that lovely rug the way you're pacing."

El stopped, whirling towards the voice. In her hand was a knife, ready to defend herself. After what had happened to Rahlen, El had no longer gone anywhere unarmed. Not even to bed.

Standing in the doorway of El's study was an elf with wild red hair and a face full of freckles. But it was the strange armor the elf wore and the map in her hands that drew Eleanor's attention.

"Who are you?" El asked. "And that's my map." She didn't bother asking how the elf had gotten so far into the castle. Eleanor doubted she'd ever receive a satisfactory answer.

"Our map," the elf said, glancing up. She smiled and winked. "Listen up princess," somehow when the elf said that word it sounded like an insult. "My sister got caught up in whatever happened at Dogs'breath village. Normally I leave her alone, but now some abyss-damned slavers have her."

The smile slipped from the elf's face, ice replaced warmth, and Eleanor adjusted her appraisal of the woman. It seemed they had a common goal, one that El could appreciate the urgency of.

"And you want to join me?" Eleanor asked. "Why should I let you?"

When the elf laughed, there was no humour in it.

"'Let' me? Sweetie. I walk my own path. Right now my path lines up with yours, but there is no 'letting' me join you. You can walk along next to me, and I'll tell you where the ship was headed, or you can pretend that you don't need my help, and I'll rescue my sister on my own."

Eleanor swallowed the hope that bloomed in her chest, and hid it behind a frown. Stepping forward, the princess snatched the map from the elf's hands.

"How do you know where they are?"

The elf spread her hands, revealing more of the strange armor she wore under a dark cloak. Silvered leather and metal hugged the woman's thighs and arms, leather bound around her torso and knives hung at either hip. It was elven inspired but... From where?

"I have a contact with a shared interest in seeing slavery eradicated," the elf said. "And the Imperium crumble, but one thing at a time."

Eleanor watched the elf for any sign of duplicity. The freckled face might as well have been a mask for all the emotion it showed. Frowning, the princess gauged the risk with the offer, but they had no other leads. This was the one chance to bring Rahlen home.

"And why are you here if you know where they are?" Eleanor asked. "Why are you not on your way yourself?"

The elf pushed off the doorframe, stepping within El's armreach.

"Because not even Shemlen deserve slavery." The elf reached out with a finger and tapped El's nose. "Call me Rasha. My things are already on your ship. We should leave soon, Ellie." The elf smiled again at the confused expression on El's face.

"We leave at dawn," Eleanor said. "And you aren't sleeping in the castle tonight."

"You say that as though I might want to," Rasha said, wrinkling her nose. "It smells like wet dogs. How can any of you stand it?" 

[ellenembee]

The Revelation of All Things - 45. In which good advice comes from unexpected places

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The paper crumpled under his palm as he leaned both hands against his desk and hung his head. She wasn't coming back. She'd gone to the Exalted Plains instead. With Solas. Just Solas. And the words didn't even come from her. The message before him was penned by The Iron Bull several days ago.

"Maker, help me."

The jealousy was irrational, and he knew it. He did trust her. She wouldn't... not without ending things properly first. But the part of him that felt like he didn't deserve her in the first place, that understood he would lose her regardless of anything he said or did, whispered that it might be better if she did. It's better this way. Move on and don't look back.

The week leading up to his breakdown, to his confession, he'd felt himself slipping. The stress of the Winter Palace had caused the nightmares of torture, vacant eyes, and the mangled corpses of his friends to bleed into his waking hours, pulling him down. He'd locked the doors more than once during that week to empty the contents of his stomach and curl up on the floor until someone knocked hard enough to pull him from his stupor and get him working again. The need for lyrium had been nearly unbearable, making him shake uncontrollably - joints aching, skin crawling, pain shooting through his body. The box came off the shelf countless times, but inevitably, he'd think of her. Nothing else stopped him. Only the imagined disappointment on her face. The vision of her dismay would force him to close the box, he feet heavy as he shuffled over to place it in its normal spot. Then he'd work until the wee hours of the morning, trying to avoid the nightmares. He barely slept. The draughts were gone by the fourth day, but he didn't dare ask for more lest she worry. The only time he could truly breathe was during her brief visits when he could drown his thoughts in the softness of her lips under his, the intensity of her responses, the give of her body in his hands.

But she'd noticed anyway. She'd asked questions. And he'd been gruff and unresponsive in return. Then he'd broken down and shown her exactly how weak he was. He exhaled in a short hiss.

Now she isn't coming back.

He straightened himself and then attempted to straighten the crumpled message from Bull. The days since she'd left had been difficult, but gradually the pain faded and, with it, the intensity of the gut-wrenching visions. He felt physically stronger than he had in weeks. When the images of his past haunted his thoughts and sought to trip him, that strength helped him stay grounded. That and her faith in him. Always her faith in him.

The lack of a constant reminder - a lack of lyrium within arm's reach - had also helped more than he'd thought it would. The strip on the inside lid of his box that carried a relief of Andraste had somewhat miraculously survived the violent collision with his door. He now touched it briefly as it lay on his desk - a reminder that he'd come through it. With her help, and maybe a little from Andraste, he had endured... this time. At least he had yet to let her down in that way.

But she would be gone for at least another two weeks now - probably closer to three of four - and she hadn't written him a letter. Since her first trip to the Hinterlands, she'd always written at least one letter directly to him during her travels. They weren't sentimental. They rarely contained anything but a more detailed and flowery account of her dealings in each place. But those letters, his letters, came with pretty elven doodles and small stories and jokes and turns of phrase she knew he'd appreciate.

This time, however, she'd barely corresponded with any of them. Leliana resorted to requesting an update, but by that time, Evana had already - finally - sent one. Even Cole had sent him a brief and mystifying note. But she had sent him nothing.

And he couldn't even think about the fact that she'd deliberately fought yet another dragon.

If she were rethinking her attachment to him, he couldn't blame her. He wasn't proud of his past - he was doing everything possible to atone. He had come a long way but still had a long journey ahead. How could he ask her to look at him the same way now that she knew - now that she'd seen his brokenness?

On top of everything he put her through that day, he'd forgotten she was leaving until he heard the gates rising. By the time he'd scrambled down from his loft and out to the battlements, she was lost to the mist. In his pain and weakness, he'd pushed her away, and she'd gone. He had no one to blame but himself.

But that voice whispered to him again. It's better this way. You're going to lose her eventually anyway...

"Commander, you're wanted in the war room immediately."

Cullen hadn't noticed Leliana's messenger, Harvil, enter his office. Turning slightly to face the young man, he nodded.

"I'll be there momentarily."

Gathering up his paperwork, he took the long way around to the great hall. As if making up for the unseasonably warm Haring, Wintermarch had been nothing but cold and snow so far. Even now, a storm roiled on the horizon, obscuring much of the mountains as the clouds descended upon them, but the bitterly cold wind on the battlements felt good on his flushed face.

By the time he walked into the war room, he'd ordered his thoughts and pushed down the doubts. He had a job to do, so he would do it to the best of his ability. Everything else was superfluous.

Leliana and Josephine waited for him around the table. As he approached, Leliana laid a letter on the war table for him to read.

"Ah, Cullen. Good. We need your input. This just came in from one of my agents still stationed in the Free Marches."

He picked it up, and a feeling of dread settled over him as the words Clan Lavellan and Wycome jumped off the page.

"I think we can safely say that soldiers are not a good response to this situation," Josephine added. "Perhaps Leliana could risk sending her agents again, but even her own man warns us against that in his letter. I believe our best option is an ‘ambassador' from the Inquisition. I know just the person, too."

Cullen finished skimming over the missive and looked up at the other two advisors. The letter painted a grim picture, but he couldn't fault Josephine's logic. The humans - and only humans - in Wycome were getting sick on a massive scale. No one could figure out why. What better scapegoat than a somewhat hostile clan of elves camped just outside the city? He'd love nothing more than to send all his forces to Wycome, but at this rate, the elves would be dead before his soldiers even reached the city gates. The situation required delicacy, and Josephine's ambassador could provide that.

"It sounds like you've already made your decision," he observed, adding a touch of coolness to his tone. "What do you need me for?"

Leliana and Josephine shared an enigmatic look. Leliana spoke first.

"We thought you might be the most qualified to break the news to the Inquisitor. It will have to be done through letter and you are close with her... are you not?"

Cullen blanched. It must've been the exact wrong reaction. Their faces contorted into expressions of concern bordering on panic.

"What happened?" Josephine asked softly.

Cullen willed his face to remain passive, but he could feel his jaw clenching anyway. "Nothing."

Which was true, he realized with startling clarity. Nothing had been spoken between them to end things. All his doubt and concerns amounted nothing more than speculation - and possibly withdrawal-driven paranoia - based on her vaguely abnormal behavior in the days since she'd left. He clenched his jaw in defiance of his own tendency to deny himself. As much as he might not deserve her, he could not truly wish to be without her. It was another weakness. She was his weakness... and yet also his strength.

"I am not the most eloquent of correspondents when it comes to... delicate situations," he dissembled.

Leliana narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but she said nothing. Josephine merely waved her hand at him and smiled reassuringly.

"No matter. Have Varric help you with the language if you're worried. It will mean more coming from you. Tell her I have already sent an ambassador, and her clan is in good hands."

How could he argue without raising further suspicion? He stared down at the war table as he responded in measured tones.

"Very well. I will have it to you by the end of the day. Anything further?"

Leliana finally spoke again. "The mage tower renovations are nearly complete and the mages started moving their books and research work there. Also, Harritt stopped me on my way here to tell me he has narrowed his list of blacksmiths down to two based on the samples they have sent. He thinks you should visit them both personally to make your choice. You should probably go speak to him for more details."

Cullen looked up to find Leliana watching him closely. "I will... after."

She nodded. "That's all I have. Josephine?"

"Nothing right now."

Cullen nodded and grabbed the letter. "I'll need this for reference. I will bring it back with my message."

They left the room, each with their own destination. Cullen had never felt anything like the dread that now pooled in his stomach. He must write her a letter to tell her Clan Lavellan was in danger... again. The task was daunting enough even without the prickling fear that she especially might not want to hear it from him at all.

He pushed the thought away. It was his task, and he would do it.

Walking through the hall and down the steps to the upper courtyard, Cullen's legs felt heavy with the weight of his reluctance. He was loath to ask the sarcastic dwarf for assistance, but truthfully, Varric was his best chance at not mucking this up. In the last few months, a kind of tentative camaraderie had developed between the former Kirkwall residents. Cullen hoped the bond would be strong enough to elicit the more serious side of Varric's talents.

He opened the door to the Herald's Rest and instantly found Varric and Hawke by the volume of their laughter alone. As with every other woman on the planet, Marian Hawke had made Cullen nervous when she first introduced herself in Kirkwall, especially with how she'd relentlessly flirted with him. With her classic beauty and warrior prowess, he'd been awed and annoyed by her in equal measure.

Here in Skyhold, however, it wasn't business and it wasn't battle. This was just... life, and she was even more sarcastic and biting than Varric sometimes. Just as with Cassandra, however, Cullen had come to know the Champion of Kirkwall better in the several months she'd been hanging around Skyhold off and on. He could now laugh with her most of the time, even when she directed her biting comments at him. She seemed unaware of his relationship with Evana, so he was not afraid of anything she might say.

"Curly!" Varric exclaimed when he finally noticed Cullen's approach. "What brings you here so early? It's not even noon, yet."

Cullen huffed out a little laugh as he sat down beside them. "I could say the same to you, but we all know you two spend most of your time here heckling the other customers, drinking ale and playing card games."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Beats working ourselves to death. Besides, I've been helping with drills every day and you know it. Where have you been the last couple of weeks?"

Even this, Cullen could take. In the months he'd been with the Inquisition, he'd become adept at providing excuses for his occasional absences.

"Doing serious work planning an assault," he replied easily.

Varric pointed a thumb at Hawke. "You know, she could probably help you out with that, having been part of a few assaults in her lifetime."

"Fair point," Cullen acknowledged. "But today, I actually need your assistance, Varric."

Varric looked half surprised, half amused. "Hold on to your boots, Hawke. Curly needs my help." Hawke snorted indelicately, and Varric gave her a toothy grin before turning his attention back to Cullen. "What can I do for ya?"

"I need help writing a delicate letter. The Inquisitor's clan is in danger, and... I am not well versed in sentimentality. I could use some advice."

Varric's face went serious instantly. "What kind danger?"

"Will you come back to my office? It's too loud here for me to think. And this is not the type of information that should be widely distributed."

Surprised by the sudden serious looks on their faces, Cullen raised an eyebrow at both of them. Hawke must have truly come to respect their Inquisitor during their time pursuing the Warden threat. She seemed almost... distraught.

"Mind if I tag along?" she asked. "I have a female perspective that - well, let's just say I don't trust you men to not put a foot in it."

Cullen nodded. Varric mocked an offended look, punched her lightly on the arm and then sobered.

"Of course. Let's do this."

They trudged up the stairs to Cullen's office. The clouds that threatened at the edge of the mountain grew ever closer, and he wondered briefly if the storm would hit tonight. He told the guards on the battlements that he wasn't to be disturbed and closed and locked all the doors as they entered the relative warmth of his office. Sitting down at his desk, he pulled up a chair for Varric. Hawke leaned her hip on the desk at his opposite side.

"So, how do you begin a letter like this?"

Varric looked at him seriously. "First, I can't help you write this letter until know what in Andraste's name is going on between you two."

Cullen felt all the blood drain from his face for the second time that day. Varric's face contorted, and he wondered vaguely if this was the "awww, shit" face Evana had told them about during one of their early war council meetings in Haven.

"Did you two have a fight?" Hawke asked quietly.

Cullen's head whipped from Varric to Hawke and then back again. By the blood of the Maker, does everyone know everything about my relationship with the Inquisitor? He turned to stare blankly at his desk for a moment. He didn't want to say it. But Varric was right. The dwarf couldn't really help with the letter unless he knew all the variables. All Cullen's paranoid fears and over-sensitive assumptions. He grimaced and then let out a giant sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

"No, nothing so simple as a fight, I'm afraid."

Hawke raised her eyebrows in surprise. "A fight would be simple in comparison? That doesn't bode well."

Cullen struggled again. How did he describe something he wasn't sure he could really put in words himself? Perhaps Varric just needed the facts. He knew Evana better than almost anyone. Maybe he could work out what she might be thinking.

"I... you asked about my absences... I didn't lie. I have been planning for Adamant. But I have also been dealing with..." Cullen took a deep breath and then rushed through the rest. "... with lyrium withdrawal. I asked Cassandra relieve me from duty, but Evana talked me down. I told her things about my past. Things I'm not proud of - Kirkwall, which of course you are aware - but also things before that. Worse things. I needed time to process, so I asked her for a moment. In my distraction, I forgot she was leaving the next morning. I've never missed seeing her off before - not once. And now, she's acting... distant. I think. It's hard to tell, but... well, she's been gone for weeks and hasn't sent me any letters, yet."

Varric hummed at this last piece of news, but otherwise, the two remained silent, seemingly deep in thought. Cullen didn't dare look at either one of them. He'd revealed one of his greatest weaknesses to two people who, by all accounts, would be the worst people to tell. Therefore, Hawke's quiet, sympathetic response threw him off completely.

"Sorry for the earlier jab. I didn't know. Lyrium withdrawal..." She sucked in a breath. "Shit. How long have you been off it?"

Cullen finally looked up at her. "Almost a year now. It was a momentary lapse. I'm fine now... well, perhaps fine isn't quite right. I'm sure I will have difficult days in the future. But I am better. I didn't get a chance to tell her... I... I need her to know that her faith in me made all the difference. I don't want to tell her this through a letter, but I also don't want to seem distant."

"Yes. I can see your problem, though you seem to have a better grasp on the situation than most. Men are usually so clueless." She clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I always thought you were a bit of a stick in the mud, but lately I find I like you better and better."

Cullen let out a derisive laugh. "Having a grasp on the situation doesn't mean I know how to deal with it."

Hawke just gave him a sympathetic smile. Varric had been silent up to this point, and Cullen risked a glance in his direction. The dwarf sat, staring at the floor, his hands clasped in his lap, clearly thinking through things. Finally, he turned to Cullen.

"You said she was acting ‘distant' and mentioned no letters. Anything else?"

"She-" Cullen cut off abruptly. Now that he'd had a chance to think over things, he found his fears didn't hold as much weight as they had before. But he would let Varric be the judge. He talked through all his reasons, including the dragon fight, and ended with her leaving her companions behind to go on alone with Solas.

"I know Solas' friend was in danger," he finished, "but... it seems contrary to her typical style. She's usually so careful - considers all her options."

Varric nodded. "I can see why you'd say that, but if you want my opinion, I think it's more about you asking for time than any shocking revelations about your past sins. She's trying to give you space. And knowing her, she's maybe a little scared of what you'll say if she approaches you first. Try to remember that only a few months ago she barely talked to any of us at all, even you Curly. She's still not very good at all this relationship stuff." Varric gave Cullen a significant look and then turned to Hawke. "Any thoughts from the token female in the room?"

Hawke shot Varric a dirty look and then smiled brilliantly. "Thanks for asking. Don't worry, Varric, you almost got it right."

Varric swept his hand between himself and Cullen. "Then by all means, enlighten us poor, ‘clueless men,' your all-knowing-ness."

"Well, from what you've told me about your Inquisitor and the little I've been able to observe, I think she's having a bit of a growing moment. She wants to stand on her own two feet and rely on herself a bit more now that she's unsure of whether or not she can approach you. You just need to reassure her that things between you haven't changed."

Varric just stared at her. Finally, he sputtered, "Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks, Hawke - that's basically what I said!"

Hawke reached over Cullen and gave the dwarf a condescending pat on the head. "You just keep telling yourself that, darling. After all, someone has to stroke that giant ego of yours."

"I have a giant ego?" Varric asked incredulously.

As the two bickered, Cullen frantically processed their words. It came down to the fact that he'd pushed her away, and now she felt alone, like she had to deal with things on her own. Would she return to the way she'd been when she first joined them? Close them out of her life? Close him out of her life?

Maker's breath, he'd failed her. He raised his fingers to his temples, trying to massage away the beginnings of a headache. Hawke's hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts.

"Don't worry so much, Cullen. We heroes all have to go through something like this sooner or later. Friends - and lovers - are necessary. We should trust them and let them help us with our burdens, but we should never use them as a crutch... Unless that friend is Varric, in which case," she raised her hand to about Varric's height on her body, "he's just about the right height for it."

"Pretty words for a walking disaster," Varric quipped. Hawke scrunched up her nose and narrowed her eyes at him, but Varric ignored her and turned back to Cullen. "Regardless, we need to get this letter written and off to her as soon as possible. Has Scout Harding been sent to the Exalted Plains already?"

Cullen nodded, glad to speak of something not related to conjecture and feelings. Firm facts were much easier.

"Yes, and she has likely arrived, though we haven't heard from her yet. We expect to today. She'll set up a forward camp and send out scouts to find the Inquisitor and her companions as soon as she arrives."

Varric grunted. "Good. Now, tell us about what's going on with her clan."

Cullen passed the letter from Leliana's agent to Varric. "It's all here. Josephine is sending an ambassador, but the situation is tenuous. I don't wish to frighten Evana, but I also don't want to give her false hope that everything will be well."

Varric skimmed the letter and then handed it to Hawke. "Well, we've got a lot to cover in one letter. Let's get started."

They worked for over an hour, but by the time Varric and Hawke left his office, Cullen was satisfied that it was as good as it could be under the circumstances. Varric had encouraged him to be more forthcoming about his... feelings, but Cullen could only bring himself to let her know he would like to speak with her when she returned. He's also felt it necessary to write in a postscript - as she had all those months ago - explaining that he'd had a little help writing the letter. He wasn't about to pretend he'd suddenly gotten good at all this. Even though he still had his doubts, he already felt less discouraged, and most of that was because of Varric and Hawke. Hawke in particular had given him much to think about - the Champion might be the only person in Skyhold who truly understood the pressures Evana faced.

Once again, the strong urge to give Evana something - to show her how he felt - washed over him. But he had nothing. Templars never had much to begin with, but after Haven, even the little he'd collected since leaving the Order had been burned or buried. A trunk full of clothing and letters wasn't really much to lament - except for the loss of her letters. Perhaps he could commission something? He must speak with Harritt about the additional blacksmith anyway. Perhaps the man would have some ideas about what she might like.

Shoving the letter in his mantle, Cullen walked across the bridge to Solas' empty office. The apostate elf's murals now stretched across half of the rotunda. Evana's many deeds were painted there in detail, and he felt a surge of awe as he paused to remember the events in each scene. She had accomplished so much. No one could question now why they'd made her their leader.

Cullen climbed the stairs up to Leliana's rookery. She wasn't there, so, he laid the letter on her desk and headed for the Undercroft. He found Harritt leaning over the bellows, fanning the giant forge. In spite of the frigid weather and the giant hole in the side of the room, the forge kept the room at a nearly oppressive temperature. As he approached the smith, a thin sheen of sweat formed on his brow. A vague wave of dizziness hit him and then subsided.

"Harritt, Leliana said you wished to discuss the blacksmith situation with me."

Harritt turned, a frown pulling his lips down and creasing his brow. "Eh? Oh, Commander! Yes. Give me a moment, will you?"

"Of course."

Cullen left the smith to his work and wandered around the Undercroft until he came upon Dagna, Skyhold's new arcanist, working on a rune. "Good afternoon, Dagna."

Clearly absorbed in her work, Dagna jumped at the sound of Cullen's voice. "Oh! Hi, Commander! So good to see you!"

"I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh, no! Well, yeah... but it's fine."

Her happy tone always unnerved him a bit, and he was unsure of what else to say. Harritt wasn't ready for him, though, so he asked the first question that popped into his head.

"How are you enjoying life at Skyhold?" Dagna gave him a great grin. "Never a dull moment here, that's for sure. I'm so happy to be here and working with such an amazing team of people. Also, the work is fascinating." She held up a tiny, red shard in her gloved hand. "This stuff... it's just crazy. And weird."

Cullen had felt a little woozy as he approached, but he'd assumed it was the terrifying drop only ten feet to his right. Now, he knew why his stomach lurched and why perspiration soaked through his under tunic. A faint, twisted humming wound its way to his ears.

"Right. Red lyrium. Please be careful. It's very dangerous."

The chipper dwarf nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, absolutely! It's dangerous enough handling the raw form of normal lyrium, let alone this strange stuff. I'll certainly be careful. It's still fascinating, though. Still trying to figure out what makes it red."

At her words, the dizziness returned, so Cullen merely bowed in response and made a hasty retreat. He'd known she was working with it - trying to find weaknesses to exploit - but seeing it was different. He shuddered when he thought of what might have been... If I hadn't accepted Cassandra's offer, would I be a red templar by now?

Harritt waved at him from his workbench. "Commander, I'm ready."

Cullen walked around the forge and stood in front of the man, who had turned around to grab a couple of samples off his bench. Turning back, he presented two pieces of armor for Cullen to review.

"These are the best two, Commander. I'll admit they're both mighty fine pieces - nearly as good as what we've got here. Both smiths are reputable and hardworking, and both are within a few-day's journey of here. I think the only thing left is to visit ‘em both and form an opinion of the smiths themselves. Nothing like an in-person visit from the Commander of the Inquisition forces."

"Where are they from?"

Harritt handed him a sleeve and vambrace. "This piece is from a smith in West Hill, up near the Storm Coast. The details are fine and strong, no chinks or weaknesses, and he comes highly recommended by soldiers as far away as Denerim."

Cullen worked the pieces and nodded. It was strong and the pieces moved smoothly around each other. After a moment, Harritt took that piece and handed him the second piece - a full cuirass.

"This one is a fine specimen as well. The breastplate is solid and barely shows the beating we gave it. You can see, no cracks and nice coverage all the way 'round. Made down south, from a smith in Honnleath."

Cullen broke into a surprised half-smile. "Ah."

"Know him?"

Cullen admired the piece and then handed it back to Harritt. "Not the blacksmith, no, but my family is originally from Honnleath."

"Well, then, it's a good excuse to visit home, then, eh?"

"Well... my family moved to South Reach more than ten years ago - during the Blight - so I doubt if I know anyone in the area anymore."

Harritt tilted his head and regarded Cullen curiously. "Still, mightn't there be some familiar places you could visit?" The smith turned to place the cuirass on his bench before adding, "You should take the Inquisitor with you."

Cullen shifted on his feet, his mouth opening before he could consider his words. "Uh... what?"

"She's a mite obsessed when it comes to crafting and forging," he explained as he arranged a few things on his work table. "She'd love to visit the blacksmiths. And you could show her a place or two around Honnleath while you're there."

Even without Harritt's direct gaze, Cullen's face blazed with heat, and he couldn't blame the forge for that. But he also couldn't deny that Harritt's words had merit. After all they'd been through, perhaps a few days away would give him and Evana time to focus on something other than imminent doom. That is, if she still wanted to go anywhere with him.

 "Ah, yes... perhaps you're right. I will ask if she wishes to accompany me... errr... us..."

He paused, teeth clenched, and gathered his courage. Harritt continued to putter at his desk as if he knew Cullen was having a difficult time and wished to give him time to compose himself.

"You seem to know our Inquisitor quite well," Cullen finally managed.

The words came out more a question than a statement. Harritt finally turned around, and Cullen forced himself to look into the smith's now twinkling eyes.

"I'd say we're well acquainted, yes."

"The other advisors and I were thinking of... giving the Inquisitor a gift. I thought you might have an idea of... of something the Inquisitor would like? Something I... uh, we... might commission?"

If it were possible, his face would have turned even more red. As it was, the added heat of his embarrassment caused a single bead of sweat to trickle down his cheek. Cullen cleared his throat slightly and tried for nonchalance as he wiped it away with a leathered finger.

"Something like a piece of jewelry?" Harritt asked rather too innocently.

A small bit of panic rose up in his gut, but Cullen forced himself to remain calm. "Not necessarily. Just something she would like. A small gift. A token of m- our... uh... gratitude for all she's done."

That wasn't the word on the tip of Cullen's tongue, but the look in Harritt's eye revealed that the smith already knew it. Affection, he could almost hear Harritt say. The word you're looking for is affection. Cullen cleared his throat again.

"Perhaps a useful item, such as a coat or a new staff?" Cullen suggested in a weak voice.

Harritt hummed while he stroked his chin and gazed off into the distance. "I could. The Inquisitor is a rare one in that she does prefer the useful and functional over something grand and overblown." He stroked his chin a bit more, the sparkle returning to his eye as he flicked his gaze toward Cullen. "But I wonder... do you happen to know her favorite stone? Or do you - any of you - have a keepsake you'd be willing to part with? The thought behind a gesture also impresses her. Maker knows she talked about that garden nonstop for weeks..."

Before Cullen could smother it, a stupid grin spread across his face. He ducked his head down in an attempt to hide it and then glanced back up at Harritt. "She did?"

"Maker, yes! She went on and on about it. That she'd mentioned wanting to fix it up, that you'd simply gone and done it because you thought she'd like it."

Try as he might, he couldn't seem to wipe the grin off his face. She truly liked it. Another blush suffused his face as he recalled her arms around his neck and the soft press of her lips against his cheek. It had been worth all the distractions and disruptions the renovations had caused just for that one moment, but to know that she'd then talked about it with others...

So she liked the thought behind the gesture? He barely registered when he began pacing. What did he have? Nothing. Could he obtain something in Honnleath? Honnleath...

The thought struck him, and he suddenly wondered why he'd never thought of it before. He did have something. Something he'd kept with him at all times. Something that seemed small and insignificant but meant a great deal to him. If she appreciated the thought - if that's what really pleased her - then perhaps Harritt could make it into something she'd treasure. He stopped pacing and reached into the small, hidden pocket in his breeches. There at the bottom of the pocket rested an old coin. Giving up all pretenses that this gift would come from "the advisors" - Harritt seemed to know anyway - Cullen pulled it out and handed it to the smith.

"This... this is the only thing I still have of my life before I joined the templars. Could you make something of that?"

Harritt took it and turned the worn currency over in his hands. "Wouldn't want to compromise the coin itself, of course. That's part of the charm. But... I wonder... Would you be willing to part with it for a bit? I need to do some thinking."

Cullen nodded. "Of course. Thank you, Harritt. Obviously, I understand that this cannot be a priority, but when you are able, let me know what I owe you."

Harritt held up his hands and shook his head. "I'll let you know the cost of materials, but the labor is on me..." He lifted the corner of his mouth in a knowing grin. "Just be happy, son. And make her happy, too."

Cullen flushed yet again but knew better than to deny anything. He tilted his head at the man in a gesture of acquiescence and respect.

"I'll do my very best."

"That's all anyone can ask," Harritt acknowledged.

[dimensionjumphq]

DJ summary and general info

Please, PLEASE note this is highly messy and all over the place, I’m mostly editing and changing a previous version of this summary from 2015 to save me time so I can get this blog up and running properly. I will recreate this so it’s more organized later on when I have time.

Dimension jump stars my first OC, Arya Swift Runner and Temperance Moon Song, her older sister as the protagonists and their adventures as they’re pulled through many dimensions.

Now, this is going to be ripped from Arya’s Toyhou.se profile to explain some general info.

".... she and her sister are teleported into Equestria with their mother for unknown reasons. Jane was a pegasus made(an alicorn with no horn), her sister a deer pegasus while their mother was an alicorn. When Discord opened up a portal home, instead of going, their mother and the two siblings told him they wanted to stay where they knew they'd be truly happy, fully adopting their ponysonas' names; Regal Dusk, Night Heart and Sky Flare.

After leaving Equestria unwillingly many years later back to their home dimension now with their wings while their mother remains in Equestria, the two are suddenly thrown into yet another dimension, this cycle continued when their adventures in that dimension ended. There they adopted new names they felt were truly theirs: Arya Swift Runner and Temperance Moon Song."

Now, what isn’t stated is there are people behind their being tossed through dimensions.

Asiyah and James.

Their species is as a mystery to you as well as me, they are very powerful human-like beings, but not quite god-like as they're made out to be.

For some backstory as to how they started pulling the siblings through dimensions, one day, James was mucking around in the attic of his comatose parents and found two strange and beautiful necklaces. Curious, he put his on, and that is where DJ truly begins.

First, it's not so bad, he gives Asiyah the other necklace and the two curiously watch other dimensions, as the necklaces had great power imbued in them that allowed this.

But you know that saying?

"Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely"?

Such was the case with James, his weak mind was easy to corrupt while Asiyah however, had a good heart and mind that couldn't be corrupted so easily and thus, she remains the same throughout DJ.

One day, James proposed taking the Shaw family out of their dimension and throwing them into the MLP universe. Asiyah, blissfully unaware of what's happened to her brother, uneasily agrees.

There's no harm in doing it once, right?

W. R. O. N. G.

I plan to end the MLP story after season six once I actually can stomach writing for it. But there’s some general info on it below.

Now, things change a little when Temperance and Arya, known as Night Heart and Sky Flare here, arrive in that world.

Two new elements of Harmony are created, Trust and Courage. Those two were wielded by Night Gale(Trust) and Spark Harmony(Courage), two characters of mine when Celestia and Luna were in power before Luna turned into Nightmare Moon, acting as advisors to the two before Night Gale and Spark Harmony died from old age, their elements disappearing for centuries.

When Nightmare Moon comes back, it's been around five months since Night, Sky and Regal Dusk(their mother) arrived here and have made friends with some of the mane six.

The two siblings go with the mane six to Everfree Forest, seeing no harm in coming with when, because they knew the MLP series up until Twilight's coronation, they knew what was going to happen.

What they didn't know was they were the new bearers of the hidden elements of Harmony, Trust and Courage.

Night Heart's test of Trust is when she hears Nightmare Moon creeping up on them in a different form(perhaps as Slender Man?) and she tells everypony to just trust her and RUN.

Sky Flare's test of Courage, I haven't figured out yet, but I'm thinking something to do with Nightmare Moon becoming a Cockatrice to scare the mane six.

Now, it's a big fricken surprise when they're called out by Twilight as being the bearers of the two HIDDEN elements.

To save you and me some time, in another post I'll write up all the details of what happens in the MLP verse, but the short version is(Note, HEAVY headcanony things ahead):

When Discord shows up, he reveals that they aren't truly ponies and the three of them stay.

Sky gets together with AJ while Night falls for RD and vise versa. Regal Dusk finds love and companionship in Burnt Oak after he helps her move on from her previous husband who abused her.

Night becomes Luna apprentice and learns how to walk in dreams.

Twilight gets reunited with an old childhood friend from before her and her family moved to Canterlot: Night Ink.

Fluttershy and Rarity begin dating.

The Mirror universe arc from the comics comes into play as well as the newest arc "From Shadows", will probably add the Nightmare Rarity arc too.

Now, I don't have the time, nor the will to list EVERYTHING that happens through ALL those stories in the list above, but I am going to tell you some themes that reoccur many times and some facts about a few of the worlds.

Facts:

Warehouse 13 is crossed over with Five nights at Freddy's, due to me getting into FnaF at the same time I was watching W13.

A few of the animatronics from Fnaf 2 are there such as Mangle and her twin Fang(really, you should go look at my FnaF folders for more info on that), but most of the Toy animatronics have not been retrieved like the Marionette but all the original ones are in the warehouse kept immobile by a special force field, until Arya breaks said field. Luckily the animatronics aren't out for blood anymore, as they had A LOT of time to think on what they'd done plus they are no longer controlled to the spirits of the children thanks to a certain OC of mine.

In the Inheritance Cycle, Arya takes on the middle name Artemis to be called by so she isn't confused with the elf Arya when said elf is in the room.

Arya and Temperance get small "mementos" from each world, such as their wings from the MLP world, it's also how they get strong magical abilities.

Arya's hairstyle changes throughout the stories, mostly alternating between shoulder length, mid back, long braided, messy ponytail or pixie cut.

One thing I should note before going on is Arya and Temperance confront James and Asiyah in Dragon age 2 and Asiyah betrays her brother before they manage to beat him, his sister taking his necklace so he could never use it again. Asiyah then takes her brother back with her to where they come from to be judged by the higher ups of where they come from, and James is never seen again while Asiyah sometimes comes to visit Arya and Temperance.

Now, Asiyah has a memory altering ability she's had since she was born/created, she doesn't use it much because she'd rather be rid of it honestly.

Now, to someone who is going mad with power, wouldn't you want to ENTERTAIN yourself if you had someone who had that power at your fingertips? James certainly did.

So, he made Asiyah lock away Arya and Temperance's memories of their romantic relationships, making it seem like they stayed single to them, he had actually ordered Asiyah to erase them but she chose to block them instead.

And, as such, they ended up with many people and at the end of their adventures, finally remember when all their love interests come to their recuse during the final story as well as all their friends from previous worlds.

This is due to the Doctor from Doctor Who managing to follow them and picks up their friends along the way as well as love interests, and TRUST ME, at FIRST THEY ALL DISLIKE EACH OTHER AND WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH EACH OTHER.

But then they realize that Arya and Temperance wouldn't have fallen for them without a reason, so through the course of the DJ adventures they are getting to know each other and they either begin to like each at best and just learn to tolerate them at worst.

This leads to a HUGE dilemma at the end right before DAI, as Arya ends up pregnant by someone(Asiyah used a spell to freeze the embryo in time when it was conceived so James wouldn't get any ideas, so Arya never knew or showed any signs she was pregnant until Asiyah removed the spell) and she feels pressured to figure out who the other parent is as well as pick just one of them when NONE of them ever suggested such a thing, leading to her running off for some time, ending up in another dimension due to the fact the dimensional barriers are pretty much IN TATTERS which also helped the fact the Fade(where demons and the like in the Dragon Age universe lurk) ripped open in DAI.

Asiyah is doing all she can to fix the barriers, leaving Temperance and her friends out of luck while running about with the Inquisitors(I have two!) trying to patch up the Fade.

I'm still figuring out what exactly happens to Arya while she's gone, but after she ends up in the Hyrule Warriors universe she raises her daughter Alexandria after giving birth, and, due to dimensions having different times so what was a few months in one dimension is several years in another, Alexandria is sixteen by the time of the next events.

After leaving Alexandria in the care of her new friend Zelda, she starts using her own magic to hop through the tears in the dimensions, trying to find her way back so she and her daughter can return and she ends up in the Puella Magi Madoka Magica universe, where she becomes a magical girl and falls for Mami Tomoe.

Now, due to the sheer amount of MAGIC in her, both her own, some Dimensional and Asiyah's, her soul isn't pulled from her body and instead only her magic is, so she's still alive and kicking and her magic would return to her if her soul gem broke.

After the events of the anime, she along with the remaining Puella Magi as well as her daughter return to the DAI dimension as Wraths were leaking into that world, where they reunite with Temperance.

Of course, Madoka Magica Rebellion has to happen in the middle of this mess, but I'VE FIXED THE CRUMMY ENDING! Homura is no longer obsessed with Madoka, is NOT a demon and falls for Kyoko, Madoka has a physical body and is with Sayaka. That's not all, as it really becomes screwy after Homura steals Madoka before Arya and Temperance intervene and set things right, but that's all I'm saying for now.

After a great big battle with all of Arya and Temperance's friends, as well as some armies from previous dimensions, teaming up against Corypheus and beating him as you do in the game, Arya and Temperance finally settle the love mess they were dealing with thanks to James.

No, they weren't going to pick one or the other, they weren't going to be so cruel as to do that, instead, they would try at Polyamory, so everyone could be happy.

They all end up moving back to Equestria, being the only place Polyarmory was perfectly fine(HELLO! THE PONIES ARE HORSES AND STALLIONS OFTEN HAVE HERDS IRL!).

Trust me, there are a lot of funny stories where it's completely AWKWARD for EVERYONE, but by the time the next DJ series rolls around it's all worked out and fine! They still have problems like EVERY couple, but they work through them and their bonds are the stronger for it. Plus, for their kids having a lot of moms and dads tends to help if one isn't available.

One other thing is that as a result of traveling between dimensions without protection, Arya, Temperance(and everyone else who came to their rescue)'s molecules are frozen, they'll never age and they will never wither or die. Temperance and Arya have constructed devices that will protect someone from these effects, and are working on undoing it for those that don't want to live forever.

As well as this, they have created an advanced city that exists in the space between dimensions, a place where all the dimensions connect and traveling between those worlds is easy so the dimensional barriers aren't ripped to shreds like before, and honestly not all the rips could be fixed. It's generally a normal city with it's share of ups and downs, but it's a pleasant place to live otherwise.

That's all I have to say really about the general plot of the first Dimension Jump series, it's a big mess, but it's the groundwork for my Next Gens and Next Dimension which I’m already adoring writing. There are still some things I haven't mentioned yet, such as who Tempy and Ari fall for, but I'd rather explain those in oneshots/fact lists for each respective fandom.

Now, all I ask is be respectful in the comments and try not to sound hateful, please.