#the plant is DAI royal elfroot

[morganali-art]

OC x Canon Week - Day 3 Out in Nature

Artoirel is helping Cessalie track down a particularly rare plant in the Hinterlands.

[psalacanthea]

WiP Wednesday

since I haven't had time to update in a hot minute, just a bit of this Hawke x Varric post-canon, post-trapped-in-the-fade fic on this lovely day.

saying hi to your ex is rarely fun, especially for Nami

The garden was getting overgrown, but Naomi wouldn’t let anyone else touch it.

Sure, she could have told Varric, and he would have dug up some kind of expert to look after it for her, but Hawke was…particular about her plants, especially now that her old experiments had been moved out of the abandoned Amell estate and into the Viscount’s manor.  She’d only lost two plants in the move, and both had been dying already; she could tell by the roots.

Five years in the Fade and a couple more before that on the run meant that she’d missed the opportunity to finish a lot of old projects, but Varric had preserved her notes.  It was enough.  There wasn’t really any other choice than to pick up the pieces and start again.

Ugh, metaphor.

Gently lifting the delicate, sad-looking seedling from a wooden tray of them, she carefully supported the stem with her fingertips as she moved the wispy roots to their waiting hole.  It was easy to propagate elfroot.  Easiest thing in the world.  All you had to do was cut off a branching root and repot it, and that’d give you a brand new elfroot in time.  Royal elfroot was trickier, but that was just because it was a picky plant.

But all that gave you was a copy of the old plant– and where was the fun in that?

Growing the stuff from seed…well, that was next to impossible.  Which was why Naomi’s journal looked like code and read incomprehensibly to anyone who wasn’t her.  The current seedling was born from a child of her old royal elfroot and regular elfroot cross (physically indistinguishable from regular elfroot, disappointingly, but medicinally distinct) pollinated by a potted gossamer elfroot Varric had acquired from…somewhere.

Not that Naomi would have minded that it was stolen, but he liked to pretend he didn’t do as much crime as her, so she didn’t pry.

The enhanced elfroot was useful, but it was harder to grow than regular elfroot, but less efficacious than royal elfroot, so honestly what was the fucking point?  Well, she could dry it and hand it off to Merrill.  Maybe it acted differently when smoked.  But that wasn’t why she was doing it!  She was trying to make the bloody stuff easier to grow.

When the seedlings were gently planted in a droopy little row, she pulled the journal into her lap and started writing.  Each one had been fertilized differently, and if she didn’t make notes now…well, it’d get forgotten.  Her memory wasn’t as good as it’d used to be before the Fade.

Footsteps echoed up the hallway outside the courtyard, the long corridor with its open windows sending voices bouncing every which way.  There were…five people.  Three guards, from the sounds of armor, and two unarmored.  Her mind drew the conclusions quietly in the background, while the rest of her was occupied marking down just how much lyrium dust she’d added into the bonemeal of seedling number five.

Two voices, speaking quietly.

One tugged at her attention, a luring tendril by her well-trained senses that told her ‘this is important’.  A beckon that was noted, and then gently shoved aside as she finished writing.  There had been one pinch of phoenix bloodmeal, scarlet oak ash…

“Naomi?”

Right, she was in the guest wing, that’s where her garden was.

Fuck.

Varric would say ‘I told you so’ and sadly she had no rebuttal– that was the worst part of it.  He had told her so, and he’d been right.  That didn’t mean she had to indulge his bullshit any more than she did, however. He could be right, and she could pretend he wasn't, and they'd both be happy.

The last plant had been fertilized with phoenix bloodmeal, scarlet oak ash, no lyrium, and bonemeal.  She had high hopes for the lyrium-free versions; magic could cause unexpected mutations of the plants.  The last thing she wanted was unreplicatable–

“Naomi?”  the voice was closer, the rolling Starkhaven accent even thicker than she’d remembered.  He’d always said her name a little weird.  Once she’d found it cute.

“You never did take a hint,” she remarked, not bothering to hide it under her breath.  “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

Deliberately, she closed her journal, setting it aside on the short stone wall that divided the bed from the path.  Brushing off her thighs, she rose, not caring that she was decidedly underdressed for meeting the Prince of Starkhaven.  Varric was here, which meant this place was her home, and she’d dress however she damn well wanted in her home.

Still, she had to fight the urge to tug at the front of her shirt, to tidy up a little before lifting her eyes to meet his.

Sebastian always made her feel shabby.

Inferior.

[midorisudachi]

"The Storyteller"

Here is the 3rd art piece for my “Countdown to Dragon Age Day” (which will be in December), where I plan on submitting artwork like this (for each playable character) every other Monday. If you could so kindly visit/view my previous Dragon Age fan arts, I would greatly appreciate it. Also, PLEASE let me know if you have done DA artwork as well, that way I can view it.

It's been a bit of a fun challenge to figure out what kind of background to create for each character. I am inspired by the DAI tarot artwork. Also, have you noticed I draw plants from DAI next to the names? With Inquisitor Bryony Trevelyan, it is Embrium. For Solas, it is Royal Elfroot. And for Varric, it is Dragonthorn!

I find Varric to be quite the intriguing character and he indeed brings comedic relief to the game (besides Iron Bull). I was so excited to see Varric the first time I played DAI, since I liked him in DA2. (I've played DAI twice!) His commentary is funny when using him in the battle party, especially the bantering between he and Cassandra:

Cassandra: How do you write as you do, Varric? I can never find the proper words.

Varric: You. Write. Really?

Cassandra: I've needed to describe events in reports. They always come off as...

Varric: Dry? Boring? Lifeless? Stale?

Cassandra: You... are an ass.

Varric: (Chuckling) Just... helping you find those words.

And one of the best between Varric & Iron Bull (which made me crack up):

Iron Bull: Hey, don't most dwarves have beards? Or at least mustaches or something?

Varric: I make up for it elsewhere.

And between Varric & Dorian:

Varric: I see you eyeing Bianca, Sparkler. Hands to yourself.

Dorian: I wouldn't worry, she's not my type.

Varric: Huh. And here I thought you're a man of refined taste.

Dorian: For fine wine and literature, Varric. Not for… whatever that contraption is.

Varric: Contraption!? Don't listen to him, sweetheart. His people are vilified for a reason.

Drawn with Sakura Pigma Micron pens, then coloured in with a mix of Copic Markers & Ohuhu Markers. White accents, crossbow bolts, & lines were done with a gel pen. The gold is Golden Paint acrylics, Font & glowing effect around the red lyrium was done in Photoshop Elements.

Fan artwork © Jacqueline E. McNeese

Dragon Age Inquisition/Varric Tethras © Bioware & Electronic Arts

[finnglas]

hmmmMMM Kaide and Tali (and Lyna if you want??), gardening

[this fits their Inquisition canon v well]

Herbalism is one of the many things the clan tried to teach her, but Ines hadn't truly been interested until Kaide had pulled out his fancy scissors while they were on a ride to harvest a lovely seeding bit of royal elfroot. "These will be nice for growing," he'd told her, carefully scraping out a pod but leaving plenty for the wild animals and wind to scatter. "We'll plant them in Skyhold's garden."

Which was how Ines had become interested in the courtyard that Kaide had claimed for his own space, with one corner for healing herbs and one for poisonous ones, and one for the ones that could go either way. The last corner was for the seedlings Ines was growing herself under Kaide's patient tutelage, and that is where Taliesin finds him, kneeling in the dirt, the sun catching at the fine teal velvet of his sleeves and picking out the red highlights in his hair.

"These are almost ready to harvest," Kaide says as Taliesin approaches, sounding worried. "She was so excited to get to do it herself. Have you heard from Lyna at all?"

Ines has been traveling with the clan for the past couple of weeks, spending time with her mother, mainly, although she had promised Taliesin she'd also speak to the Keeper about the possibility of vallaslin. Maybe.

"Not since the last one, but the clan should be passing close by any day now, so--"

"Ada! Papa!"

Kaide is on his feet faster than Taliesin has seen him move outside of battle. Ines hits him full-force at a flat out run and nearly takes him down, and Taliesin spares a moment to rub his bad knee and be grateful it wasn't him.

"Easy," Kaide laughs as he pats her on her back. "Your deadly nightshade is almost ready to harvest. You're just in time."

"Ooh, can I borrow your scissors? Hi, Ada." She interrupts herself to give Taliesin a hug, and over her head he sees Lyna coming through the courtyard gate that Ines had flung open.

"Hi, Bee," he laughs, kissing the top of Ines's head. He'll ask her how her time with the clan was later.

"Can I borrow your scissors to harvest them?" she asks Kaide again. Those fancy little things. Taliesin still thinks she only learns about herbs to get to use them.

"We'll, no," Kaide says, and Ines looks positively crestfallen. Taliesin tilts his head; it's the first time he can remember Kaide denying the girl anything. But then he reaches into his coat and pulls out a leather bundle, grinning. "Because you'd probably rather use your own, right?"

The sound Ines makes has the horses snorting and stamping from the other side of the wall, and a dog barks nearby, alarmed. Kaide helps her unwrap the little belt pouch, and inside is a set of herbalist tools, maybe even fancier than the ones he carries.

"I couldn't get back to Ostwick to get a set like mine," he's explaining, "so these are from Val Royeaux."

"How much did those cost you?" Taliesin laughs, and Kaide shrugs.

"Oh, Ines, hang on - gloves. The 'deadly' part of the name isn't for decoration."

While they go off looking for a pair of gloves for Ines, Lyna finally makes it to Taliesin's side.

"Are they always like this?" She's smiling, though. She's told him before that she's perfectly happy to have a third parent in the mix. Taliesin hasn't told her that Kaide has been discussing making Ines his formal heir, with a title and land and everything.

"They're thick as thieves. He gave her a pony within the first month she was here with us," Taliesin says by way of answer, chuckling. "I think he'd give her all of Val Royeaux if he could."

"I'm glad," she says softly. "It eases my heart to know the two of you have someone looking out for you who loves you so much."

"You know, he's offered to invite you to stay here, too."

But Lyna is already shaking her head. "It's a generous offer, but I'm not made for staying in one place. I'll visit, though. Perhaps next time, I'll plan to stay for a bit." She grins slyly. "I noticed a handsome young blacksmith on my way in today. Perhaps I'll stop to speak to him."

Taliesin snorts. "Good hunting," he teases, as Kaide and Ines come back into the courtyard, properly gloved this time, Kaide apparently talking her through the fine art of making poisons. Just what he needs.

Kaide pauses near him to say hello to Lyna and kiss Taliesin briefly, lingering with his arm around Taliesin's waist as they all watch Ines - carefully, for once in her life - harvest the nightshade and transfer it to a bottle. Taliesin foresees her interest in the hobby waning quickly, now that she has her own scissors and has accomplished her goal of growing a plant, but he also knows Kaide won't mind, will just cheerfully keep enabling her along whatever path her interest takes next.

Lucky, indeed, all of them.

[herenya-writes]

Day 11: Wander

Arlaros couldn’t sleep. His bed was too soft, his room was too quiet, and there were too many thoughts running through his head. His insomnia had gotten better the past few weeks, since Dorian had been sleeping with him more often, but tonight Dorian was working on research for a particular spell that could not be interrupted. He thought he’d be done by the early hours of the morning, but he had told Arlaros not to wait up.

He hadn’t intended to. He was tired. Today had been a whirlwind of meetings as the Inquisition prepared to attend Empress Celene’s ball. Not everyone would be going, of course, but both Cullen and Leliana wanted to smuggle some of their soldiers in and Josephine insisted on making sure the inner circle had brushed up on their Orlesian manners. There were also matters such as finding a seamster to outfit everyone who was going, determining the correct order of entrance, and coordinating who was going to say what to whom and when. It was exhausting and completely outside his field of expertise. The last thing he wanted was to attend an Orlesian ball where everyone there literaly thought of him as lesser because of his pointed ears. He also doubted people were happy that he was a mage and had chosen to welcome the rebel mages into the Inquisition.

All those thoughts had swirled around as he tried to sleep, and eventually he just gave up. He had pulled on one of his heavier coats and slipped from his tower. Now, he let his feet wander and carry him through Skyhold. He wasn’t surprised when he shook himself from his thoughts and found himself in Skyhold’s garden.

It was a small space. There were really only a few plants, and most of them were potted herbs for the healers and Dagna to harvest and use. Still, it was beautiful and quiet, and he liked the smell of the different herbs and flowers on the night air.

For several moments, he simply stood in the middle of the garden and breathed. He let the smells of the dirt, the plants, and the stone wash over him and ground him to his body once again. His thoughts, so loud and demanding, quieted, and by the time he opened his eyes the fear and irritation that had drove him from his bed was gone.

He sat on the edge of the well and looked out over the garden, letting his mind drift between memories of his time with his clan. The royal elfroot planted here always reminded him of his keeper, who liked to say that seeing royal elfroot was good luck and meant that elves had been here before them and would return when they were gone.

He missed his clan. In the beginning, he had often found himself wanting to tell Feras about the sights he was seeing with the Inquisition or confer with his keeper about the decisions he was asked to make. That impulse was lesser now, but he still sometimes found himself turning to talk to someone who wasn’t there. His keeper had told him in a letter several weeks ago that she was proud of the work he was doing with the Inquisition, especially the ways he was working to repair the rift between humans and elves. Knowing that what he was doing was helping his people soothed some of the ache of missing them, but it didn’t erase it entirely.

Despite how much he missed his clan, his family, he couldn’t say he was alone. It had felt that way, in the beginning, when Cassandra and Leliana had watched every move he made with suspicion and fear. Now, though, he counted both of them among his friends, along with many other people he never would have met staying with his clan. The Iron Bull, with his loud laughter and fierce loyalty, Blackwall with his distant stares and determination to stand up for others, Sara and her well-timed pranks, Vivienne and her severe looks and wise counsel. And so many others. He had made a family here, of people who trusted and believed in him and were willing to follow him into the abyss if it meant they had a chance to save the world.

And there was Dorian. Wonderful, witty Dorian. What he had done to earn the attention and care of someone so lofty, he couldn’t say, but he was glad to have it. Having Dorian at his side made all of this seem a little bit more possible. Even before they had started courting, Dorian had made his life easier. He had been willing to listen to his worries and soothe them as well as rebuke his self-doubt when he needed it. He had provided both distraction and insight when it was needed, and Arlaros was endlessly grateful.

His thoughts began to drift again, and he let them wander through memories of he and Dorian. Time drifted by, and before he knew it the moon was beginning to sink. It was only a few hours before dawn, now.

He stood from the well and stretched, feeling his bones pop as he did. Then, he began the journey back to his tower, his mind still turning with pleasant memories.

When he reached his bedroom, he found a gentle fire flickering in the hearth, one he hadn’t set. He turned to the bed and couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. Sprawled across over half of the bed and wrapped in all of the blankets was Dorian, fast asleep.

Careful not to wake his lover, Arlaros climbed into the bed and extracted one of the blankets from Dorian’s grasp and pulled it over himself. Then, he shifted until he was pressed against Dorian’s side and placed a gentle kiss on his bare shoulder. Dorian mumbled something in his sleep and moved closer, one arm coming up to encircle Arlaros.

He smiled and laid his head on the pillow next to Dorian’s. Here, he was safe. Tomorrow there would be more meetings and headaches, but for now, he could rest in his vhenan’s embrace.

[sinsbymanka]

Would you like to do this:

15 OC associations

Please 🙏😊

I know I've been tagged in this too I'm just horrible at talking about my OCs to be honest. But I'll give it a go! thank you Tessa and @morganlefaye79 and @musetta3.

Sereda Aeducan

Art by @jentrevellan

Animal: Bronto. Yes. A bronto.

Color(s): Royal blue, silver, and gold.

Month: She was born in Justinian (the sixth month) but I suspect she likes the New Year's holidays best (Annum)

Song: Lose Control by Hedley

Number: 1. obviously.

Day or Night: Day - she's afraid of the dark

Plant(s): deep mushrooms

Smells: orange blossom and vanilla, sweat and steel

Gemstone: sapphires

Season: Summer

Place(s): Hot springs in Orzammar and under Amaranthine. The Diamond Quarter. The Three Nugs tavern in Orzammar.

Food: Bronto ribs with the spicy sweet sauce

Astrological sign: Leo

Element: Fire

Drink(s): ale and pomegrante juice

Maria and Bea are under the cut!

Bea Cadash

art by @storybookhawke

Animal: Deepstalkers and fennecs

Color(s): Dark violet and blood red

Month: The last month of the year -- Haring

Song: Problem by Natalia Kills

Number: 13.

Day or Night: Night. The later the better.

Plant(s): Black lotus

Smells: lyrium and blood lotus and embrium

Gemstone: none - gems are what you wear when you want someone to fucking rob you.

Season: Winter

Place(s): Any tavern or brothel she can find, center stage and the life of the party. High places where nobody can see her watching them. Dark corners.

Food: Cookies and scrambled eggs.

Astrological sign: Gemini

Element: Air

Drink(s): Strong Dwarven Liquor and whatever the fuck that shit Iron Bull has.

Maria Cadash

Art by @tuffypelly

Animal: Cat

Color(s): Silver

Month: Drakonis - the start of spring (third month) which is also when she was born

Song: Me and the Devil by the Fratellis

Number: 3

Day or Night: Dawn. And she's always up at the fucking crack of it.

Plant(s): Daisies

Smells: Cinnamon and elfroot

Gemstone: pearls

Season: Spring

Place(s): Libraries, ruins, docks, anywhere she can be alone and unbothered and at peace with herself.

Food: Honey rolls.

Astrological sign: Aries

Element: Fire

Drink(s): Bitter herbal tea from Orzammar.

[isk4649]

Part Four: Dinner Prep and Chocolate

Hi!

I did it!

Fourth installment of the royal x commoner saga of Cullen and Tharin! @jonogueira, @kemvee, @bigfan-fanfic, thanks for all the support!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

———————————————————————

It was a bleak winter, and the grayness had been affecting Cullen’s mood. He could use some comfort food.

Cullen stood in the kitchen dicing onions and sniffing back tears. Next came the butternut squash. Mindful of the sharp blade as it thudded on the cutting board, Cullen gingerly cut the squash up.

The savory smell of butter and herbs spread. He watched until the onions turned translucent, added butternut squash and chicken broth, and let it come to a boil. After blending the mixture, Cullen ladled a bowlful.

He pondered whether he wanted to watch television while eating. But he owed it to himself to sit down and have a proper meal. And so, Cullen carried the bowl to the dining table and laid out a proper setting.

The soup was as delectable as it smelled. It filled him up with warmth and happiness.

After dinner, Cullen brewed himself a mug of elfroot tea and settled on the sofa with his reading glasses and a book. Halfway through the first page, he remembered the code he could not fix earlier. He considered finishing up some work before bed but decided it could wait.

He was done for the day.

Cullen had lost track of the time reading when he heard something jangling and scraping against the front door. He checked his phone. It was 8:30 pm.

Hesitantly, Cullen walked up to the door and looked through the peephole. He snorted at the sight.

When he opened the door, a drunken man stumbled through.

“Hi, honey, I’m home.”

It was Tharin.

“You’re earlier than I’d expected,” Cullen scoffed, “and drunker.”

“Bull wanted shots,” Tharin hiccupped.

As the man lumbered to the living room, Cullen went to heat up the leftover soup.

Tharin had a football club practice after school that day, which led to a trip to the neighborhood tavern as it was wont to do. So, Cullen had not been expecting him back for another hour.

He took a seat by Tharin spreadeagling on the sofa. “You could’ve stayed out longer if you wanted.”

His husband grinned and slurred, “I missed you! Happy almost wedding anniversary!” From inside his jacket came a half-melted chocolate bar.

Cullen laughed and grabbed it. “Our anniversary is a month away.”

“But I wanted to get you something today.” After a loud belch, Tharin suddenly turned somber. “I’m sorry for almost leaving you at the altar.”

Cullen planted a light peck on Tharin’s cheek. “You didn’t leave. You don’t have to apologize.”

A smile floated on Tharin’s face, and he suddenly held his forefinger up. “You were drunk when we first kissed!”

Cullen nodded, more laughs seeping out. “Yep, I was…”

“Can I kiss you? I’m drunk now.”

“You most certainly can.” Cullen let Tharin come to him, and they locked lips. He tasted sour booze and smelled sweat, but he did not mind.

Cullen ran his hand across Tharin’s firm chest and felt strong, steady heartbeats. He murmured, “Happy almost wedding anniversary, love.”

———————————————————————

Note: I know football doesn’t exist in DA universe... There’s a real dearth of sports involving balls in Thedas apparently (insert pun here). But for the sake of this AU, I was imagining something akin to American or Australian football.

[5lazarus]

To the Victor the Spoils

In the Skyhold gardens, in Adamant's wake, Solas meets Loghain.

A character study of two trickster-kings, speaking a little too honestly.

As Loghain himself says, "The past is always with us. It’s in our bones and our blood and we wear it on our skin. You can think otherwise, but you’ll never get far without it." Read on Archive of Our Own here.

The Inquisitor’s hand aches, and Solas is responsible, so he rouses himself from the Fade and dresses quietly. His erstwhile roommates, Varric and Dorian, snore away soundly. They came back late last night and may still wake up drunk. If this were not the third night in the row they had done this, he would be more sympathetic and leave a tincture for their headache. Alas, they must learn soon, or he will simply make a lot of noise waking up. There are healthier ways to cope with bad battles and beloveds’ deaths by drinking, however Varric wants to honor Hawke. Adamant has left them all aching. He would still like to sleep.

Outside Blackwall is running the new recruits through their basic drills. He is yelling at them about honor—another Adaman casualty. The children look like badly-plucked chickens in their ill-worn armor, shambling in the gray morning light. Solas would tell them to stand up straight and widen their stances, but here he does not need to play the drill sergeant. He leave Blackwall to his work and retreats into the main keep.

Morning prayer has just released and Leliana is wistful, her hood down. She pauses by Varric’s table and looks unseeingly at the stack of books. Then she sees him, and her face grows as porcelain-clear as a doll’s.

“Good morning, Solas,” she says. “You’re up early.”

The easiest way to answer is to obfuscate, and the best way to obfuscate is simply to say the truth. Solas says, “I enjoy the quiet, before Skyhold’s residents slip back into their daily routines.”

Leliana chuckles, and the porcelain visage warms into flesh. “Surely the Fade reflects routine too? The Hero of Ferelden told me she found me at my prayers, when we were trapped by a Sloth demon.”

You people dream such dull lives, Solas thinks but does not say, but of course I took the dreams away. He says, “There is disruption to be found on both sides of the Veil.” She watches him as he walks towards the cloister. He resists the urge to strut. Apostates, particularly those claiming to be hermits, do not walk with pride in their power and accomplishments. Many of the mages he has observed scuttle rather than stride. Solas has never tried to draw attention to himself; he cannot help being six feet tall and occasionally a redhead. Still, he tempers his walk.

In the cloister Elan’Vemal is buzzing around the felandaris like an angry wasp. Solas ignores her and walks towards the royal elfroot, pulling out his knife.

“Absolutely not,” she says.

Solas crouches down next to the bush. “I beg your pardon?” he says to the branches. The tips of its leaves are an electric violent. He can grind the stalks into a salve that will soothe the spasms in the Inquisitor’s hand and temporarily numb the spread of the Anchor. The leaves he will keep for himself.

“Inquisitor’s only,” Elan’Vemal says. “Unless you have a requisition form.” She looms over him, arms crossed. She’s a nasty little creature. The Inquisitor had not been pleased at her barefaced attempt at manipulation. Solas touches his own cheek, sans vallaslin, and does not even allow the thought to fully form.

He says, “I am making a salve for the Inquisitor.”

“A likely story.” Elan’Vemal is unimpressed.

Irritated, Solas says, “The stalk of this plant, ground into a salve with arbor blessing harvested wild and the stamen of the amrita vein, releases a numbing agent useful for treating Fade-inflicted wounds.” This is accurate enough, for her purposes. “We will be marching on Adamant in two weeks, and best be prepared.” He takes his knife and cuts only two branches from the stalk, when initially he had hoped to take three. Elan’Vemal watches him work. He is careful not to wound the plant. Grudgingly she remains silent as Solas ties the branches into a small bundle.

As he pushes himself to his feet, brushing the dirt from his knees, she says, “And the leaves? What will you use that for?”

Solas says, “Getting high, of course. What else?”

Shocked, Elan’Vemal laughs. He smiles slightly and makes his escape, dodging Mother Giselle with a polite “good morning.” The salve will not take much time to prepare, but the day is barely long for all he wants to do. There is the basic sketch for his fresco of Adamant. He already has a sense of what the colors need to be, and so he need to requisition more cinnabar for the corrupted lyrium holding the City enchained. There are calculations to be run, as well, regarding the latest of his Veil accelerometers. They have reactivated enough for him to use the lodestone at Skyhold as a base and predict where the Veil is weakest. The Inquisitor ought to plan her next foray where the Veil needs the most attention; but first, he must soothe her hand, and let her know she is cared for. He cares for her. She knows that; but after Adamant, the reminder will help.

A man is staring at him, not unkindly, so Solas turns with a practiced mild expression.

“May I help you?” he asks. It has not been easy to fall back into the habits he developed as Mythal’s thrall, but he has never been one for ease.

Loghain says, “You fought valiantly at Adamant.”

The almost-king of Ferelden: even now he cannot help but trip into exalted circles. Solas takes him in quickly before responding. He has heard the Inquisitor complain about Loghain’s betrayal of the Night-Elves, the resistance force both the Dalish and the urban elves of Ferelden launched against the Orlesian occupation. Solas separates the personal dislike from the political necessity. Of course the Teryn could not keep the elves of Ferelden armed; he could not risked an armed and organized minority clamoring for land just after they had waged and won one foreign war. Factionalism is so easy to fall into; Solas knows this from experience. That does not excuse it, but one does what must be done. He has done similar and worse. He would have left Cailan to die at Ostagar, and the Wardens too—but he would not have been so obvious about it.

Loghain himself looks like a tired but brawny old man, much like himself nowadays. Blue rings his eyes, but he is clean-shaved and his armor is polished. If the darkspawn in his blood keeps him up at night, he does not let it taint his day. He still survives.

Why does he notice him? Why did he notice him on the battlefield? Solas is too old for flattery. What does he want from him?

Solas says, “Thank you. You as well.” Inveterate loser, he thinks. He does not know if he is insulting him or Loghain: both, this is your human kin, the Fade will press him into your archetype.

Loghain says, “I’ve fought with apostates before, when we faced down the Archdemon—Dalish and human too. But I’d never seen any mage move that quickly, or so competently bark orders at frozen soldier in the field. Have you served before? Ferelden, Tevinter, or Orlais?”

Solas, as practiced, recites, “I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade, in ancient ruins and battlefields, where I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.” He smiles thinly. “One learns from their mistakes.” Yours and mine, he thinks and cannot say: I would have done what you did at Ostagar, but I would have made sure I was not blamed. So quickly one’s allies misunderstand the good one attempts to have wrought; so quickly it spirals out of one’s own control.

Loghain stares at him. “You dream on battlefields? And can see what had happened there?”

“I can watch spirits copy the strongest emotions felt there,” Solas corrects. “There is truth but she wears many faces.” Obfuscation via weak poeticism works so very well, though it marks him as more polished than most elves. “In the same blood-drenched patch of dirty a spirit acts and reenacts a soldier throwing himself to the ground in anguish as he sees his king overpowered. And then, in the same blink, another plays the role of the relieved foot soldier, glad to be spared a fatal charge in a battle of fools.” Perhaps bringing up Ostagar is not the most tactful, but he struggles to know the average quickling’s reference-point. His knowledge of history is vast, and time has slowed to a crawl. He does not know what else to reference.

Loghain presses his thin lips into an even thinner line. “Ostagar,” he says. “And before I’ve had my breakfast. Did you go there deliberately, or just…fall asleep?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Solas says simply. It is not an untruth. He had found Flemeth’s cottage first. The dreams came easy. “Battles that change the tide of history mark the Fade as much they do the waking world. It is difficult to dream anything else, north of the Korcari Wilds.”

Loghain stares into his eyes. Solas, of course, peers back. The man’s eyes are a clear, cold blue, more brilliant for the bruises under them. The former regent of Ferelden says levelly, “When I dream, all I remember is a fool’s death and a hard choice. And I’d make the same again.”

“As you should,” Solas says. “There is no time for regret. You have lived your life according to the demands of your honor: for your countrymen, and now, your fellow Wardens. If you regretted that choice—if you sought to deny it, to fruitlessly work against the tide of the history you have made, that would be dishonorable. But you are an honorable man, are you not?” He realizes he is perhaps speaking more passionately than he ought. This is not Blackwall, an easy mirror to his own sins. He must remember what he is in the world: an elf, an apostate, a dirty outsider—no matter that he keeps himself cleaner than Cassandra. Repressively, he says, “Forgive me. Adamant stirs up old memories in us all. I am marked by what I witnessed as well.”

Loghain says, “You know war. Of course, most of your people do. The Warden has told me what the elves face in Orlais and Tevinter. It’s not much better in Ferelden.” Solas stirs, irritated, wanting to deny—but he is an elf, he is stuck in these circumstances, and he does know war intimately. He could not help but speak first. He cannot snap back. Loghain may be held in dishonor; that does not mean an elf can talk back. “Your friends have spent the past two nights in the tavern, drinking, and when that lugubrious warden isn’t weeping into his ale, he’s drilling the recruits to exhaustion. At least that will make them sleep at night. But that won’t do away with the dreams.” He smiles thinly. “I find your description of the Fade comforting. It means no one can lie about the past. Whatever it is. It’s always with us. It’s in our bones and our blood and sinks into our dreams. We wear it on our skin, and even the heavens are scarred with it. However history writes us.”

“To the victor the spoils,” Solas says.

Loghain burbles a laugh. It’s a pleasant sound, unexpected and a little hoarse. “Ha! And it’s my daughter who won. And right now—the Inquisition. The Wardens. Us. It’s easy to die for your cause. I could have claimed my redemption, if I need one, at Adamant. But it’s much harder to live for it, bearing the weight of the dead.”

Solas, surprised, says, “Yes.” He thinks, this is a lonely man, opening his deepest thoughts to a stranger, but aren’t I the same? Haven’t I been doing the same, with him, with Blackwall, with the Iron Bull and Varric and Cassandra and them all? He did not need the death of Wisdom as an excuse. He has found comradeship enough where he goes. He clears his throat, suddenly overcome. He thinks it through: I am upset, why? What has disturbed me? That this man carries his sins on his skin, and rejects the need for redemption. History has painted him the villain; I, also. Dread Wolf take you: what will they say about Loghain?

Loghain says, “It’s early in the day for this talk. I must be keeping you from your work.” The moment has passed; now they are awkward with each other, and not two soldiers who are harrowing a war. The man’s drawing into himself, embarrassed at the truth he told. Disappointed, Solas draws up to his full height and remembers: don’t hold yourself too tall.

He says, “Quite,” and holds up the pouch of royal elfroot. “Duty calls.” The Inquisitor’s hand is hurting and needs a salve. The quartermaster needs to order him cinnabar. Then there is the composition of the fresco to calculate and then sketch with charcoal, and more calculations, and sidestepping Leliana and Vivienne as to how he made those calculations. He saw it in the Fade. When he saw it, the Fade was everything, and there was no bleary waking. He leaves the courtyard and the almost-king, remembering and forgetting his words.

[eavangeek]

Guns and Roses: Ch. 8 - A New Employee

Pairing: Male Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast, Male Cadash/Cassandra Pentaghast

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Summary: After the Hero of Fereldan in the Dragon Age, The Champion of Kirkwall during the Blood Age, Thedas has been at peace for most of the Silverite Age. However trouble brews between the New Templar Force and the Enchanter Colleges. Agent of Truth, Seeker Pentaghast, has been sent to the Free Marches city of Ostwick to investigate why they have been unaffected by the rise in violence...

Tags: FtM Cadash, Trans Character, Mob Boss/Secret Agent, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Secret Identity, Minor Character Death, Mild Gore

Total Word Count:  103,884

Chapter Word Count:  2, 052

Previous || Next || Start

Author’s Masterlist || Ao3 Fic Link || Ao3 Author Link

Twitter || Patreon

GNR, Volkswritten, Trans Character, Male Cadash, Kallak Cadash, Cassandra Pentaghast, OC x Cassandra Pentaghast

Thursday. Sera always brought new honey on Thursdays, and Tael closed ‘Shartan’s Oath’ for the day. Today was also a test run for Sera’s housemate. Kallak had only heard good things about him, a man by the name ‘Blackwall’.

“He’s a Grey Warden, or was I guess. He’s been building and shite.” Sera’s thick Fereldan accent always came out when she cursed or talked about girls.

“He ever done anything with flowers?” Kallak pruned the Royal Elfroot, the bud not yet open. It was dangerously close to the Water Lilacs, and he didn’t feel like experimenting with either plant this season.

“Nah but he’s good with his hands. Been redoing the deck, and the bees like him! He don’t mind them neither, don’t swat at them or nothing. Single too.” Sera shoved the rest of her muffin into her mouth.

“Why do I need to know he’s single?” Kallak clipped a leaf, only for it to land in his goatee. Sera snorted at her boss, nearly falling off her chair in the greenhouse. The building was in the alley, the walls bricked and then reinforced, turning it into a bunker just in case someone decides to shoot up Kallak’s storefront. It only happened once but once was enough for the dwarf. The sun was out today, so the artificial and magical heat lamps were switched off.

“You need to get laid!!” Sera blurted out, bits of blueberry flying out of her mouth. Kallak grunted as he stood up, moving onto the tree saplings, making sure they were healthy before they were shipped out today.

“I’m perfectly fine, Sera. Besides, if I wanted to get fucked I would just call up the town council. Quickest way to get bent over, that’s for damn sure.” Sera laughed, falling off the bench this time.

Kallak picked up his flower samples, moving them to the separated area in the greenhouse. White Lilies in a row of six were already planted and waiting to be pollinated. He put the roses he cut in water, knowing they wouldn’t open until next week. It would give him time to figure out which plants he wanted to cross pollinate them with. He had a basic idea, but he knew that the entire venture might be for nothing.

Roses didn’t have a gene that made them blue, and when breed with other plants, they usually took the traits of the other flower, losing their shape. In that regard, roses and elves were the same. However if Kallak was able to pollinate the white roses with a more recessive flora, it might take on the pigment of said flower, without differentiating too far from the rose family. Like himself, the flowers would look like a rose, except for one specific trait. Kallak scratched his ears, feeling the pointed tip of them.

“When is your housemate coming?”

“Dunno, told him to be here before we opened though.”

“And did you happen to tell him when that is?”

“Midday?”

“Did you say ‘midday’ or did you just go ‘show up at the middle of day’.”

“Uuuh… He’s bringing the honey over.”

“Great. When he shows up just let him know that we have parking the next block over.”

“Right, after he drops off the goods, yea?” Kallak nodded. “Thanks Inky!” Sera ran out the greenhouse, laughing as she ran to get to the front of the store. Kallak shook his head, closing the doors behind him as he followed his employee.

It rolled to being about 11 before a rundown pick up pulled into one of the front parking spots. Kallak had finished Carta business that morning, having moved to the storefront to start research on Vivienne’s request. He didn’t look up until Sera shouted ‘Beardy’ and a gruff voice called for her to help out. Kallak took off his reading glasses and looked up. Oh. He felt his heart skip a beat.

A gruff man in a beaten up flannel was moving boxes inside, Sera putting the jars away or on display in the honeycomb window stands. He was a Free Marcher, long black beard done in twin forks, his long hair held in a loose bun. He wore steel toed boots, but unlike Sera, his were tied up with caked dirt and grease. His nose had been broken at some point and hadn’t quite healed up correctly.

“You must be the owner,” a thick Markham accent, Kallak couldn’t take his eyes off his mustache and the grey in his beard and temples. “Thom Rainer, at your service.”

“Sorry?”

“Oh. Uh, Sera said- she told me that.” The man coughed into his hand, the cords of muscle in his forearm jumping.

“Oh. OH! Right! Sorry, Sera said your name was Blackwall.”

“No,” the man, Thom, chuckled at that. “No, that’s the name of my parole officer.”

“You have a parole officer?”

“Grey Wardens recruited me a few years back, but I didn’t make the cut to be active, so I’m on reserve. In case another Blight comes, that is. Blackwall comes and checks in on me, making sure I’m still fit for duty, can fight in the Deep Roads, that sort of thing.”

“...Huh. I didn’t know the Wardens had a reserve in Ostwick.”

“They’ve got us in every city, but most are stationed in Kirkwall at the Bone Pit Base.” Thom smiled, but Kallak saw Sera grinning like a she-devil by the displays. Kallak clears his throat and got off his chair.

“Well, let me give you tour. This all here is the front, you’ll spend most of your time up here but I’ll show you the back just so you get an understanding. Sera, older honey up front, you know the drill.”

“Sure thing, Inky.”

“Now,” Kallak clapped his hands, walking to the back, Thom following behind. “This is the door to the cooler room. We use these flowers in the bouquets, usually when you get here early you’ll just pick and go. They’re a couple plants that aren’t the best to have on bare skin- they’re just in this corner here and we use the dragon hide gloves. Two sizes, you might find it easier to use my pair than the one Cole and Sera use.

“Through that back door is the alley, if we’ve got a big shipment, a moving truck will be back there. Don’t worry about that too much but out that same door and directly to the right is our greenhouse. This way...

“We’ve got the hallway, I’ll have to get a corkboard for you. This one is Cole’s, and the one with the bee cut outs and graffiti around it is Sera’s. Obviously. You’ll get to decorate your’s but if you don’t I’m sure Sera will do it. Down at the end of the hall is my office and the clock in machine. It’s done with your fingerprint, and then a four digit code you gotta put in. Unfortunately it’s random but you’ll only have to remember it once. Now, did Sera tell you how the hours worked?”

“Sort of,” Blackwall drawled, following Kallak back into the store front. “Stay the whole day, come an hour early and expect to stay an hour after.”

“Kind of,” Kallak stopped in the middle of the show floor, turning to face Thom. “Yes, you’ll have to show up an hour early, in order to pick your flora and help open the shop. I only need you during the weekends, Sera works Tuesday and Thursday and Cole, the other employee, works Monday, Wednesday and Friday. When closing up, a bicyclist comes around and takes whatever bouquets we don’t sell for the day and goes around town and sells them for us. I would hope whatever he don’t sell he just gives to old ladies on the Vhenadahl streets, but honestly? Doubt it.

“I’m gonna have you come in everyday for the next two weeks though. Pay will be legal minimum though. If you’ve got questions you can ask Sera or Cole while they’re working on the weekdays, and it’ll give you a test run for two weekends. How we doing so far?”

“I don’t need any health insurance, get that through the Wardens. But what about paid leave and the like?”

“Well, officially there is none. I’ll expect you to work every weekend, but if something comes up, say Warden business or you’re sick, giving a heads up will do. Easy enough to call in someone else. You got family, Thom?”

“Not really, why?”

“Have to ask. Right I think that’s ‘bout it. Oh! Sometimes we’ll get Nobles coming in wanting a floral design. Nothing to it, but we’ve got one rule here about that.”

“The customer is always right.”

“What, no, fuck the customer. The one rule is fuck symbolism. We make our shit to either be pretty or to look interesting. You think Sunflowers and Kale is a good bouquet? Go for it. Sera over there is a master at throwing curveballs like that. Cole’s got his own thing, pretty sure it’s all based on what people feel and shit. Sure you’ll figure it out. Today though you ain’t making any bouquets.

“Sera. Help Black- sorry, Thom. Help Thom get the old flowers out of the cool room. You're gonna show him how we make the greeting cards.”

“Shouldn’t he know where they go first?”

“We’ll get to that bridge when we get there. Scat.” Sera stopped putting honey away, leaving a box still filled with the jars unpacked. She grabbed Thom by the wrist and yanked him to the cooler room. Kallak looked at the mess of his display stand. He sighed, shrugged his shoulders and put the rest of the honey away. Most of the it was labelled for Sunflower, but the box remaining held Joe-Pye and Goldenrod flavoured honey.

Kallak had never been on Sera’s farm, something she said she inherited from her ‘Bat of a Bitch Mother’. It was on the western peninsula, near the mountains. He had a few of his Carta scouts scoop it out. It must have been a heritage estate, one that had been abandoned for years. Sera didn’t mind though, it was far enough from the city that no one looked for her or her Red Jenny Gang. It was also close enough one of the three highways that connected the island to the rest of the city. The bees weren’t on the property until about a year ago, when Sera suddenly got an interest in them, after College protesters came into the store asking if Kallak was ‘Saving the Bees’. The honey helped to bring in customers, especially when the old baker across the road packed up and left.

It had been Cole’s idea to press the old flowers into cards though. The boy nearly started crying when he realized that some of the flowers they had were seasonal. ‘But what if they need the sun in winter?’. Kallak felt bad, and ended up getting him a book on how to press them onto card stock. Surprisingly enough Kallak got a wave of thank you cards from the medical center a week later, saying that someone had been sending pressed flowers with poems or psalms written in them. A rather moving thank you letter came from a woman in intensive care, who was put in for a suicide attempt. Cole still has the letter pinned on his corkboard, the woman thanking whoever gave her the card with sunflower petals pressed into the stock and the simple message ‘It’s okay. She would want you to be happy’.

Thom was a good worker, but it was obvious that he had never done delicate work. Sera kept laughing at his pressed cards. Eventually Kallak stepped in and helped the Warden conscript with the work. Tael came by to visit the dwarf when he went back to his office. They ended up making more phone calls, hoping to try and figure out what happened to the transporter.

Cassandra never came by the shop. Kallak shouldn’t have given it any thought, but he did. After how they left things yesterday, he thought she would be here today. Sera and Thom were handing over the bouquets to the bicyclist, a young Dalish. The boy waved at him through the glass, Kallak waving back.

[sunmoon-starfactory]

Quali-Tea - Tea and Coffee Production and Brewing

A set of functional teapots that sims can use to brew together a mixture of ingredients to produce teas and tisanes of the everyday, medical, and mystical varieties. This set REQUIRES the following sets: • Water Bucket – Fetch Water Any ONE of the following for fertilizing: • Natural Nutrients – Large Fertilizer Sack • Livestock Sets – Animal Dung Any ONE of the following for vermin control: • Corn Fed – Vermin Control • Boldly Grow – Scarecrow Army Additionally to make specialty teas, parts or all of the following sets are required: • Herbs, Spice, And Everything Nice – Various Herbs • Ultimate Fruit Collection – Various Fruits

See below the cut for use instructions.

Download Tea - SFS Download Coffee - SFS Download Dalish Tea - SFS View/Download at the Keep

Tea Production It all starts with the Industrial Tea Crop. A plant that enjoys sub-tropical and tropical climates, this industrial field is non-seasonal. Instead it operates on a 20 day cycle representing a standard sim year. As an industrial style field, it still requires no direct maintenance but must be protected from vermin and is subject to a blight disaster occurring. Every 20 days, the field must be re-fertilized to be kept going. To start a tea field, purchase it from the catalog gardening section for $50. Upon placement, a sim has 3 days to fertilize the field with either 3 sacks of fertilizer or any 30 animal dung. If a sim misses this fertilizing window, the field is dormant until 20 days have passed. Upon fertilizing a field will become lush and begin its harvesting cycle. Every 72 hours, a field can be harvested for 5 fresh tea leaf baskets. These baskets can be used to stock the fridge for food points, sold for profit or separated for drying. If a basket is separated for drying, it will produce 1 fresh tea leaf pile into a sim’s inventory. A fresh tea leaf pile when placed in the world starts a drying timer. It takes 48 hours for tea leaves to dry. Once dried they can be gathered back into a harvest basket; thus producing 1 Dry Tea Leaf Basket. A Dry Tea Leaf Basket may be stocked for food points, sold for profit, or separated into Tea Leaf Canisters. These canisters can be stocked for food points, sold for profit, or used to make tea in a teapot. For sims who want fresh tea but don't want to work on an industrial scale, they may purchase the Dwarf Tea Bush (pot not included). This smaller version of the tea bush will produce one basket of fresh tea leaves every three days.

Autonomy Specific Sims can be assigned the harvest chore by providing them with a Harvest Basket. Once placed into their personal inventory, they will autonomously harvest fresh tea leaves. Their harvest will either be placed into their personal inventory or business owners. This means you can gift visitors and employees baskets to get them to work in your home or community businesses. The Harvest Basket can be purchased from the Buy catalog under Hobbies -> Miscellaneous. Note that while the advertising is high for Sims to perform autonomous chores, their desire to work will be based on their personality, needs and distractions.

Brewing A teapot will brew a blend of water, tea, and various other ingredients to produce teas and tisanes. These can be just for food, or produce special effects on a sim. Every cup asks for a 1:1 ratio of any ingredient, and produces 1 cup. Each cup takes 5 minutes to brew. Alternatively, for some teas a sim may brew a batch which asks for five times the original ingredients or a larger version of a harvest item, and produces 5 cups. • Any sim may brew a beverage tea but more advanced teas will require more advanced Logic skills. • If you’re using a business when brewing teas, ingredients must be in the business owner’s inventory for other sims to brew tea as well as the owner. Tea Pots All teapots can be found in Appliances > Small Appliances. Most are slaved to a decorative host version and some have been made standalone. A folder of Master Meshes has been included in the download. Recipe Notepad

*Preface: The ingredients named for use in these teas/tisanes are not meant to be accurate or instructional for real life use. They are also not completely accurate in usage, and were combined based on cross-referencing several internet sources. Tea recipes WILL NOT be changed for “accuracy”. 

A handy add-on so that brewing doesn't have to be memorized or even remembered at all. Simply have your sim look up a tea recipe on this notepad and ingredients will be displayed. Sims will gain a tiny amount of cooking skill from viewing recipes.

Pot Heater

This is a deco item with a slot that is meant to be used in place of placing a pot on a stove or such and give the sense that heating via coals is being done. It can be found in Surfaces > Misc. Two recolorable subsets, the coal holder and the rack itself. *Note, sometimes it must be placed on the floor to fill the slot, or moveObjects must be used. 

Teas/Tisanes Teas come in a medicinal size only. Cups are slaved to the Pottery Super Set and recolorable. All teas may be placed on various surfaces, however once they are placed they are considered 'in use' and cannot be moved with the moveObjects cheat. Drinking of tea is autonomous. Can be placed on OFB shelves sold in OFB style businesses, will restock from inventory, and won't spoil. All Beverage Teas: Give a boost to energy, comfort, hunger, and body temperature. They have no additional effects on a sim. •Black Tea •Green Tea •Honey Tea •Citrus Tea All Herbal Teas: Give a boost to hunger, and body temperature, and additionally they impart effects on a sim. •Calming Tea: Boosts Comfort, decreases Energy. •Cleansing Tea: Boosts Hygiene. •Energizing Tea: Boosts Energy, Fun, Mood, and Comfort. •Fertility: Increases the change of a female sim becoming pregnant. •Virility: Increases the chance of male sims impregnating other sims. •Invirility: Decreases the chance of male sims impregnating other sims. •Twin Tea: Causes a sim to have twins from a pregnancy. •Concentration Tea: Speeds up skilling like when sims are in the autumn season. All Medicinal Teas: •Cure All Tea: Cures sims of any sickness and boosts all motives. •Birth Control Tea: Prevents a sim from becoming pregnant. •Miscarriage Tea: Causes a sim to miscarry a pregnancy. All Creature Teas: •Plantsim Tea: Turns a sim into a Plantsim. Immediate effect. •Vampire Tea: Turns a sim into a vampire. Immediate effect. •Werewolf Tea: Turns a sim into a werewolf. Immediate effect. •Witch Tea: Turns a sim into a neutral alignment witch. Immediate effect. •Zombie: Turns a sim into a zombie. Takes roughly 24 hours to take effect. Or Save lot and reload. •All Creature Cure Teas: Revert a Sim back to normal life state. Immediate effects. All Mystic Teas: •Anti-Aging: Pauses a sim’s age counter for three days. Multiple doses stack. •Anti-Jealousy: A sim who consumes it no longer is affected by jealousy for a period of time. •Resurrection Tea: If consumed by a ghost, the sim will come back to life. Not to be used by the living. •Love Tea: Makes other sims take notice of whomever drinks it for a random period of time. All Poison Teas: •Sickness Inducing Tea: Gives a sim food poisoning like symptoms. •Assassin’s Tea: Instantly kills a sim.

CRITICAL FILES All files in the ZCritical folder need to load after teas themselves and should not be deleted (unless noted underneath). These are commands from original potions special teas were based off of and are needed for them to function properly. Additional Notes: • Sun&Moon-Tea_ZCRITICAL_WitchMemoryFix - This file may be removed if you use Pescado's CreatureFixes. This file specifically let's sims get a witch memory when they become neutral witches which is not a baked in maxis behavior. • Sun&Moon-Tea_ZCRITICAL_MiscarriageMemory - This is the Inteen Miscarriage Memory with a name that just matched the set. It may be deleted if you use InTeen, but recommended to make sure the original file loads after teas. • Sun&Moon-Tea_ZCRITICAL_TestForPregnacy- Same as Smonoff's. It may be deleted if you use the original potion set, but recommended to make sure the original file loads after teas. DUPLICATE FILES: The following files are duplicates found in other sets. If you have them in another set, you may delete them from this set. • Sun&Moon-InventoryTool_HarvestBasket - Apple A Day Ultimate Fruit Set • Sun&Moon-Inventory_FertilizerSack - Any Industrial Crop • Sun&Moon-ACCESSORY_FertilizerSack - Any Industrial Crop  

Bonus #1: Coffee

Coffee works the exact same way as tea does. It must be grown, the coffee cherries dried and gathered before they can be brewed (roasting before brewing is an implied step and not required before use). The coffee set includes an industrial crop, dwarf bush, and a standalone brewing pots. Coffee can only be made as a beverage but the energy gain from it has been increased from that of tea beverages.

This set REQUIRES the following sets:

• Water Bucket – Fetch Water

Any ONE of the following for fertilizing:

• Natural Nutrients – Large Fertilizer Sack

• Livestock Sets – Animal Dung

Any ONE of the following for vermin control:

• Corn Fed – Vermin Control

• Boldly Grow – Scarecrow Army

Bonus #2: Dalish Tea

The Dalish Teapot exclusively brews Elfroot Tea (beverage) and Royal Elfroot Tea (cure-all) from the roots and leaves of the associated plants.

This set REQUIRES the following sets:

• Water Bucket – Fetch Water

Any ONE of the following:

• Natural Nutrients – Large Fertilizer Sack

• Herbs of Thedas - Elfroot Garden Plant/Herb and/or Royal Elfroot Garden Plant/Herb 

Additional Credits & Thanks: Midgethetree, Fire_flower, TaraTrue, Mortia, Davina Ojeda, Sunni, Smonaff, Kate (Parasimonious), Dot, Pandorasims, Black_Spirit, Cashcraft, Shakeshaft, Pocci,  ATS (Sandy), Bobl, Mira, Nemestnaya, WoodForSims, Sadepaivas, American McGee, Maxis, Bethesda.

[cowboywife]

Dragon Age Inktober Day 8: Elfroot

Elfroot is one of my favorite plants to collect! The royal elfroot with its purple tips reminds me of some of my favorite plants.

[musingmycelium]

oc associations

RULES: Repost and fill in the answers you most associate your character with to each question.

Thedas Zodiac here! Flower meaning here! Gemstone meaning here!

i was tagged [ages ago sorry im so slow friend!] by @goblin-deity <3

i’ll tag @tk-duveraun , @dirthara-mama , @fen-harel , and@dalish-ish <3

i wanted this under a readmore but my internet shit itself so im going to try on mobile, fingers crossed

Ellanis Tabris - Apostate, Warden, Hero [art by fleshwerks]

ANIMAL: Starling

COLOR(S): orange and blue

MONTH: Harvestmere [October]

SONG(S): Roaring 20′s -Panic! At The Disco | Wolves Without Teeth -Of Monsters And Men | Which Witch -Florence + The Machine | [full playlist]

NUMBER: 7

DAY OR NIGHT: Night

PLANT: Blood Lotus | Honeysuckle | Royal Elfroot

SMELL(S): Vanilla | Blackberries

GEMSTONE: Agate -Moss and Botswana

SEASON: Autumn

PLACE(S): Old Libraries | Tidepools

FOOD: Pastries

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Silentir -”The Silence”

ELEMENT(S): Air

DRINK: Cold Water | Fruit Juice | Rooibos Tea

Idrilla Lavellan - First, Knight Enchanter, Beloved [art by winsbuck, left]

ANIMAL: Snow Leopard

COLOR(S): crimson and gold

MONTH: Bloomingtide [May]

SONG(S): Thunder -Imagine Dragons | Hold Me Tight Or Don't -Fall Out Boy | No Light, No Light -Florence + The Machine | [full playlist]

NUMBER: 3

DAY OR NIGHT: Day

PLANT: Crystal Grace | Black-eyed Susan | Edelweiss

SMELL(S): Cocoa | Strawberries

GEMSTONE: Chrysocolla

SEASON: Summer

PLACE(S): Ruins | Well Kept Studies

FOOD: Sweet Pea Soup

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Belenas -”The Mountain”

ELEMENT(S): Fire

DRINK: Honeyed black tea | Cider | Cherry Wine

Da’ean Lavellan - Hunter, Herald, Inquisitor [art by winsbuck, right]

ANIMAL: Hanal’ghilan [golden halla]

COLOR(S): forest green and grey

MONTH: Wintermarch [January]

SONG(S): In the Woods Somwhere -Hozier| River -Bishop Briggs | Awake At Night -Half.Life | [full playlist]

NUMBER: 11

DAY OR NIGHT: Day

PLANT: Dawn Lotus | Fern | Lily of the Valley

SMELL(S): Fresh rain | Raspberries

GEMSTONE: Green Quartz

SEASON: Spring

PLACE(S): Deep Forest | Well Loved Kitchen

FOOD: Honey Cakes With Halla Butter

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Eluvia -”The Sacrifice”

ELEMENT(S): Water

DRINK: Herbal Tea | Mead | Fresh Apple Juice

[vhyral]

The only acceptable reason for which the Inquisitor absolutely has to pick up every single elfroot plant they come across is that somehow, Cullen and Cassandra spent all of the Inquisition's money on ordering weapons, armour and crafting materials and totally forgot to place an order for medicine so the Inquisitor has to slave themselves to keep their troops healthy.

Cassandra points out the elfroot picking once and the Inquisitor freaks out.

"Do you think I want to bend down every time I see these plants, Cassandra?"

"I swear, next time we see Cullen, I'm strangling him with this royal elfroot."

"I can't get the smell out of my gloves, my hands. I fall asleep and see elfroot leaves!! A servant brought me soothing elfroot tea the other day and I hurled it out of the window!! She cried!"

"WHO spent all of our funds on swords and shields, Cassandra??? WHO????"

[buttsonthebeach]

Got a prompt for you! During Ellana’s pregnancy, the skin around her stomach itches a lot due to the stretch, and Solas wipes some soothing salve/lotion on her belly to relieve the itch. Cue Solas feeling so full of love for Ellana 💕

Umm, I died when I saw this prompt because it was TOO. CUTE. I do so hope that you can’t tell when I started drinking while writing it…

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Solavellan, reunited post-Trespasser

Rating: Teen because Ellana just… really likes swearing

Note: References several things/characters/situations from Body of Knowledge.

“Motherfucking Void-forsaken piece of nugshit -”Ellana’s language was the least of Solas’s worries as he darted into their bedroom. The shattering sound that preceded it was far more concerning. When he arrived, he saw a shattered Orlesian vase on the floor, water trickling out of it, and the small bouquet of crystal grace it had held scattered further still. He also saw his nearly nine-months-pregnant lover on her knees, bare from the waist up except for her breastband, and scowling furiously as she attempted to bend over and pick up the pieces with her one good hand. She was in danger of toppling into the whole mess.

“Vhenan, please,” he said at once. “Stop before you hurt yourself.”

The looked she leveled at him probably would have cowed a lesser man. The flash in those big grey eyes of hers, so pale against the darkness of her skin. Before she could protest, he let magic flare in his blood and dissipated the water on the floor, then scooped up the broken pieces with another wave of force and deposited them neatly on the end table the vase had fallen from. The flowers followed shortly after. Ellana watched with her lips pursed. He was confident that if she’d been able to, her arms crossed. Every part of her radiated annoyance.

“I had it,” she said. Her tone was flat.

Solas looked down at her. Her hair - so much longer now - was hastily pulled back, and despite the cold Drakonis air the finer curls framing her face stuck to her temples with sweat. Her eyes looked puffy with lack of sleep. And, of course, there was the great round curve of her belly, so impossibly huge on her small frame, resting now against her legs where she crouched like a predator ready to pounce.

Although, the thought of her actually pouncing on anything in her state was a bit laughable.

But he had to be cautious. Ellana was an independent woman, and one who always wanted to take care of others before herself, and being both heavily pregnant and having only one good arm had taken a toll on her lately. He did not want to upset her further.

“I apologize for my fear, then,” he said gently. “I was quite startled.” He held out his hand to her - a wordless offer. She sighed, and then accepted it. He had to brace himself well against her weight, but he was close to her, and that made him happy.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I was trying to put that stupid tunic on. I swear it fit last week. And I couldn’t get it on and I got frustrated and I didn’t look where I was throwing it and -” She gestured sharply at the shards on the end table.

Solas’s heart ached to see her so upset. (His heart ached for many things, lately - for her, for the child in her belly, for the world that child would be born into, a world rife with his mistakes - for the lies he held in his chest even now, his new plan.) He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I am sorry, emma lath. Shall I try to help you dress?”

She sighed again, an even more irritated sound, and pulled away from him.

“I don’t even want to put it on. My stomach is so fucking itchy today that I can’t stand it. But I want to go to the market to see if I can find the ingredients for the salve the women in my clan used to make, and it’s too cold to go like this, and half of the city would probably be talking about how they saw Ellana Lavellan parading her pregnant belly around the market if I did it anyway. And I doubt they’d have everything to do it exactly right. The Dalish way.”

“If you give me a list, I can go to the market for you.”

“Really? I could have sworn that you were meeting with Misyl today. You’ve been so busy lately.”

His heart beat faster. Of course she had noticed that, and would remember. And of course he could not tell her that Misyl was on his way to Oruvun in search of a new orb. An orb that could give the child she carried the world they deserved.

“No, I am not. And even if I was, it would not be as important as your comfort.” He cupped her cheek with one hand, and then when she leaned into his touch, cupped the other as well. He did not deserve her. No - he did. He would make sure that he did. He would take care of her. “Give me the list, and try to rest while I am gone.”

It was a simple enough list, Solas thought as he set out. He needed both royal and gossamer elfroot, which the good herbalist on the outskirts of the market would have. He’d also need prophet’s laurel to strengthen its effectiveness. He’d suggested checking the booth manned by elves from Seheron for a plant called aloe, which might make it even more soothing, but Ellana had sighed in frustration once more.

“I know you mean well, vhenan, but - I just want it to be like I remember. Like what the other women in the clan used.”

That was why Solas was also going to acquire a healthy amount of bear fat, instead of butter-soft Orlesian lotions that cost a sovereign an ounce, which he would gladly have lavished on her. She wanted it to remind her of home, and though her vallaslin was gone, and she had not once gone back to see her clan (she was so tangled up in all the ways she had changed, so afraid of how they would see her), his heart was still Dalish down to the marrow of her bones. So he would make a Dalish salve for her, and see her smile before the sun went down.

He had to go to two separate herbalists to get the ingredients (his preferred shop was out of royal elfroot), but it was a simple enough errand. Ellana was puttering around their kitchen, rearranging the contents of the cupboards, when he returned.

“I thought you were resting,” he chided as he entered, setting down his purchases.

“Your child had other ideas,” she snorted. But moments later her hand drifted to the huge roundness of her stomach. “Come here and feel.”

Solas never had to be asked twice to feel his child stretching and turning and kicking inside Ellana. It was a miracle every time. There was a person there, an unquantifiable and unknowable mixture of Ellana and himself, a person he never dared to dream might exist someday, a person he already loved with all his heart - and that person was kicking away at his palm.

Of course, he didn’t have to feel that from the inside several hours a day, and sometimes at night.

“Please, at least try and rest a while. As much as our little one lets you. I will prepare the salve for you.”

“Very well.”

Ellana had moved their mortar and pestle to the cupboard where they kept their simple earthenware dishes, for some unaccountable reason, but Solas didn’t comment on that. He took it down and began crushing the herbs, and adding the bear fat in increments, until it was time to abandon the pestle altogether and work it with his hands. He could feel the cool tingle spreading across his skin as he did so. It was more - greasy than he might prefer. But he hoped the smell and the texture and the soothing coolness made Ellana happy, and made her think of the place and people she had once called home.

She was sitting on their couch, still absently rubbing her stomach in circles, when he was done. She moved to take the mortar from him, but he pulled it away.

“Let me do it for you. I insist. It is the least I can do.”

Ellana sighed yet again (he briefly wondered if he could ask Mithra, their midwife, if sighing was a side effect of pregnancy, and then decided against it), and then dropped her arm.

“Relax, vhenan,” he said.

“I don’t think I have actually relaxed since I came tumbling out of that forsaken rift at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

Solas bit back a sigh of his own.

“Well, then I must ask you to try.”

Ellana huffed, leaned further against the pillows of their couch, and closed her eyes.

She inhaled at the first cold touch of the salve against her skin, and for a moment her body was more tense than before. Solas watched her carefully. The arch of her eyebrows and the way she bit her lip. The rise and fall of her chest. She sighed, and relaxed into his touch, and he began rubbing the ointment into her skin in earnest, spreading it evenly over her stomach, marveling all over again at how firm it was, how large, how full of life. It had been months since that day that she told him, wide-eyed, that she was carrying his child, and as transcendental as that moment had been, it was nothing compared to this moment. Seeing the coils of tension unwind and unwind like ribbons, feeling her warmth, seeing the light falling on her cheekbones, waiting with hope for another movement from their child.

“Is that good?” he asked.

“Better than sex,” she said, without pause, her eyes still closed.

He had to laugh at that. “Noted.”

The salve was half gone when her stomach was fully coated, and Ellana’s eyes were grey slits. Her lips were full and bowed again, no longer pursed with frustration. Solas smiled when their eyes met.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Of course. I would do anything for the two of you.”

Those words restored the tiniest hint of tension to Ellana’s body. He saw it in her shoulders and the way she shifted. He’d said the wrong thing. But she would understand someday, wouldn’t she? What he really meant by that?

“You seem to have calmed both of us,” she said. She was right. He had not felt the child kick in some time. He summoned the tiniest well of magic, and used it to feel for that perfect staccato rhythm. The sound of his child’s heart, still beating inside of their mother’s body. He did this at least once a day, just for the thrill and wonder of it, for the sense of connection it forged.

He loved them both so.

“The women in my clan used to say that a child knows the sound of their mother’s voice before they are ever born,” Ellana said. Her tone was softer now. “I hope that’s true. And I hope - I hope our child recognizes the touch of your magic just the same way, when they are born.”

Solas was knotted up by a thousand things he could not say at that thought. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her warm and perfect and stretched and itchy skin and breathed in the scent of the salve, and rained kisses all over that curve, and prayed he would be enough for both of them.

[dovabunny]

Fortune Favours the Brave and Stupid

Click link above to read on Ao3 or read below.

Relationship: Leliana/Cousland; Isabela/Merrill; Zevran/Alistair

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins

Rating: General Audiences

Characters: Isabela; Merrill; Morrigan; Leliana; Aedan Cousland; Alistair Therin; Zevran Arainai

Tags: Alternative universe - Modern with magic; fortune-telling

Chapter: 1/1

Series: FicTober Ficlets

Summary: Aedan decides he needs to buy some divine intervention to convince Leliana they should be together. Only the outcomes are not at all what anyone expected.

FicTober prompt ( from @barbex ): “There they were, pursuing wisdom” (2017) and “Can you feel this?” (2018).

Dragon Age Inktober prompt (from Dankou): Warden

The result: this hot garbage.

 “So that’s when I said: can you feel th-”

 “-it coming in the air tonight?” Alistair lazily interjected through a mouth full of Cheetos not looking up from where he was focused on brutally annihilating Zev in Mario Kart with the intensity he’d only once before exhibited when he competed in that all you can eat ribs event where the prize was...more ribs.

 “-the love tonight?” Zevran purred casually, one arm draped over Alistair’s knee, his posture the exact opposite of his rigid, focused, cheeto-shovelling opponent. Zevran lifted his hand which Alistair high-fived, neither breaking their stride in game or taking their eyes off the screen.

 “I can not feel anything beyond the gnawing existential dread that plagues the existence of those of an intellect advanced enough to comprehend and question the great universal conundrums. ‘Tis a burden I bare gladly, as the alternative seems…” Morrigan gazes up from her tablet to lift an eyebrow at Zevran and Alistair. “...sweaty, stupid, and consisting entirely of a diet of artificial flavouring, colouring, and various dairy-based products.

 Aedan pinched his brow and took a slow measured breath, exhaling heavily out through his nose. “As.I.Was.Saying… I told her ‘can you feel this? There’s something between us here, something I don’t want to ignore anymore’.”

 “And, pray-tell,” Morrigan drawled, although Aedan knew her well enough by now to know this was her actually caring, “how did our resident chantry sister take such a romantically aggressive advance?”

 Aedan heard the sound of a muted beep from the TV and looked up to see two faces watching him from the couch, the game on pause.

 Aedan had never seen them pause during mario kart. He didn’t even know it was an option.

 Alistair was late to his own fucking graduation because they ‘had’ to finish their rematch after the two had a huge fight about who would win in a race where they also play chubby bunny with a pack of marshmallows that seemed to instigate the war.

 Zevran won. Alistar ran directly from the car, into the hall, and onto the stage, barely making it in time as they read his name.

 “She said,” Aedan sighed, “that she did feel it, but that that wasn’t enough. I don’t know, something about need a sign or something…”

 Morrigan scoffed. “If only your maker was as easily bribed as the chantry, we might’ve been able to arrange Andraste to come down and declare you two soulmates.”

 Alistair rolled his eyes, Zevran snickered, and Aedan - Aedan’s little symbolic lightbulb above his head went on with a lovely audible ‘ding!’.

 “Morrigan you GENIUS!”

 Alistair looked scared, Zevran looked amused, and Morrigan - Morrigan looked like she did that time she found out mayonnaise wasn’t vegetarian after years of eating it and calling herself a vegetarian.

 ~ ~ ~

 So here they were, pursuing wisdom...in dodgy little shop of a Rivaini seer.

 Said Rivaini was a beautiful, curvaceous, scantily-clad woman with caramel skin and eyes of molten gold. Her full black hair was swept back with a royal blue bandanna, and she all her bangles and necklaces chimed and jiggled as she moved. She greeted them with a sultry ‘hello sweet things’, but seemed startled when she saw Zevran, and gave him a knowing, polite smile and a wink.

 Alistair looked scared, Zevran looked amused, Morrigan looked irritated, and Leliana - Leliana was beaming with excitement.

 “So you’re my 3 o’clock, hmm?” Isabela glanced at her at a ledger that seemed to have more post-it notes than pages. “The reading?”

 Aedan swallowed nervously, but his voice didn’t waver. “Yap-pa-doo, that’s us.”

 The Rivaini’s gave them a calculating looking, seemingly analysing each of them. She sighed and shut the book, as if she somehow came to a conclusion in her mind.  “It’s not me you need. You need Kitten, the real deal. Consider it a...favour,” with that she shot Zevran a smile. “Follow me, if you will.”

 She lead them to a backroom where a petite elvhen girl was bent over old tomes, several herbs and mortars around her, and ...what was with the creepy mirror in the corner? The room smelled of elfroot, tea, and rain, with hints of cinnamon and spice that was entirely Rivaini. All over the walls were hanging plants and rich tapestries, the floorboards covered in lose carpets. A big round table stood in the centre of the room, covered in cards, crystals, and more books.

 “Kitten, I have some playthings for you,” the Rivaini said, her eyes lighting up as the elvhen girl turned. “Here for a reading.”

 “Oh! Marvelous!” she cried in glee. “I’m Merrill, please come in! I’m sorry about the mess. Oh this is most exciting, Bela usually don’t let me do the readings. She says I’m too straightforward, I don’t ‘razzle dazzle’ enough, so the customers don’t feel the need to return or buy stuff from the stores. Oh creators, I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I?”

 Merrill suddenly shrunk in on herself and looked at - Bela? - who just shook her head with a fond smile. “It’s quite alright love.”

 In a heartbeat Merrill was back to looking like she just saw the face of Mythal. “Goody! Oh, I should probably welcome you - come, sit! On the chairs, pillows, floor, anywhere. Although - I would appreciate it if you didn’t sit on my work table in the corner, but, if you truly wanted - I’m sure I could-”

 “Can we just get this over with?” Morrigan grumbled.

 “Oh! Of course.” Merrill arranged them all around the table, and after some awkward but polite offers of tea that was equally awkward but politely declined, she settled. “So - you’re here for a reading? Future, fortune, love?”

 “Foolishness?” Morrigan added.

 “Fun?” Zevran grinned.

 “Fear?” Alistair croaked as he glanced around the room as if trying to spot a demon that might jump out at him at any moment.

 “Love, if you please,” Leliana responded politely.

 Aedan smiled softly at her and shuffled in his chair, “Yeah, we’re-”

 “Oh!” Merrill interrupted as she turned over some of her cards, all with odd depictions of elvhen gods and mythical creatures. “Yes! Soulmates - wow, those are pretty rare, I don’t know how much you know about Dalish readings but those are quite the delight - amongst you, here. Oh how exciting!”

 Morrigan rolled her eyes, Zevran raised and eyebrow, Alistair raised both eyebrows, and Aedan and Leliana leaned forward with hope in their eyes.

 Even the Rivaini lounging in the corner of the room seemed intrigued.

 “Tru- truly?” Aedan stuttered. In his mind’s eye he already saw their wedding day, their children - they would have Leliana’s eyes and his nose - and their grey-haired smiles as they sat on the porch growing old together.

 “Yes! And between an elf and a human, even more odd…”

 There was a collective silence in the room. Eyes darted between one another, all lingering a bit on Zevran who shrugged in innocent defence.

 “Merrill,” Leliana cautiously asked, “who exactly are you referring to?”

 “Them, of course!” Merrill gestured to Alistair and Zevran who looked equally guilt-stricken. “There’s such a tangled chemistry between them, a connect both ancient and new.” Merrill said all of this as if it weren’t the truth bomb of 2k18, gesturing to the layout of her cards.

 She added a few select crystals, bones, and strange sparkly dust to a cup and jiggled it while murmuring some elvhen magic. She tossed it onto table with flare, then squealed in delight. “See???”

 The silence in the room was deafening, except for Morrigan who was trembling with restraint to keep from bursting out in laughter.

 ~ ~ ~

 It all worked out in the end. Miraculously.

 Leliana had taken the experience as a sign of how the Maker can work in mysterious ways, and accepted a date with Aedan. They’re on date 34 now. Yes, Aedan is counting.

 Morrigan went into Business with Isabela and Merrill, the three of them are quite popular and successful. “The Seer, the Witch, and the Mage” are fully booked months in advance. Their TripAdvisor reviews are excellent.

 Zevran and Alistair? Well, not much changed, as far as anyone could tell. If Zevran sat between Alistair’s legs, arms draped over his knees as they played Mario Kart, or if Alistair got Zevran his favourite snack and popcorn when they went to the movies without the elf having to ask - no one raised an eyebrow. No questions were raised when Zevran immediately knew Alistair had a bad day the moment he entered the room and went to make him a cheese sandwich with mayo (which horrified Morrigan every time), when Alistair left the bar with Zevran to walk him home. All because - nothing had changed. It was only that the others now saw what had always been there.

[roguelioness]

Adan

He’s gruff, his deep voice rumbling within the confines of the room. “I’m not a healer,” he grumbles. “Don’t have the patience to sit and mollycuddle patients. That’s what the Chantry sisters are for. Me, I’m an alchemist. You need a potion, any potion, you’ll get it - just get me the ingredients, and give me time.”

He pauses as a runner stops by with a request from Mother Giselle for more elfroot potions. He nods tersely, and moves to a nearby workstation that’s lined with bottles carrying liquids of all hues and consistencies. His movements are quick, but precise, and a few careful minutes of measuring and mixing the messenger leaves with a dozen vials.

“Used to be that elfroot was as scarce as sovereigns around her,” he says, clearing up the mess he made. “That scoundrel Seggritt charged an arm and a leg for the meagre stock he had.” He wipes down the table, then moves over to a bowl filled with water and begins to wash his hands. “Now that the Herald’s up and about, we’ve got enough for everyone, and more.”

He pauses briefly, clearly ruminating over something, a thoughtful look on his face. “A good woman, the Herald, with the Maker’s own luck. Good thing too, Andraste knows she’s going to need it. Mind, she was more dead than alive when the soldiers dragged her here, what with that crazy magical mark on her hand trying to burn her up. ‘Course, when that was under control - only just, and thanks to that apostate Seeker Cassandra brought in - there were plenty of folks trying to break in to kill her.” He shakes his head.

“She’s not in Haven much these days, what with the inquisition trying to create order out of this absolute chaos, but each time she’s here she finds time to stop by. She asks about me.” His face softens now, a strange look on a man whose features are accustomed to sternness, but it’s clear he has a fondness for the Herald. “She always brings me back a bagful of herbs, what she thinks will be helpful - elfroot, embrium, spindleweed and the sort - but she brings back other interesting plants, too. She brought back royal elfroot and crystal grace the last time she was here, Maker knows where she found them or what she had to fight to get them!”

He lets out a heavy breath. “Aye, like I said - she’s a good woman. She’ll sort this mess right out.”