#urnarseldo verse || dragon age

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|| the way seldo's shorter than both of them TT^TT

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continued from @blightcd

What was with the youth of this era and their demanding curiosity? Sighing as he breaks open another shell, tossing it aside as he pops the nut into his mouth. Some children. ❝You're so rude in your questioning, you know that?❞ Chuckling softly as he asks, cutting what might've been a biting remark into a softer one. ❝How about this? I'll let you ask me three questions, any three you want, but I also get to ask you three questions. We'll alternate, is that agreeable?❞

The young mage's nose wrinkled as he watched the elder, one of the very few remaining he'd grown up visiting with, learning from—even following after (until his Keeper chased after and dragged the little mage back to camp). He reached over Felassan's arm, taking a nut for himself, and popping it open. "And you're about as clear as a brick wall when answering my questions!" he retorted. Still, in spite of any frustration, he was glad to see the wandering Dreamer; without his clan to return to, and with only his little sister left, he needed a little familiarity.

Urnarseldo frowned as he chewed, considering the older elf's bargain. "If you answer them— I mean actually answer them, not that…" He waved his hands. "Weird half-answer, half-riddle thing, then alright. I'm not sure what I could answer that you don't already know, though. You've been everywhere. I've only been here a week."

Now, for the question. He rubbed his chin before taking up another nut, pushing it against the table to crack the shell, and popping it in his mouth. "Alright, first question. How d'you make yourself go into the Fade? Like, on purpose, when you want?" A bold question, from a mage that hadn't yet learned to control veilfire.

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|| and now for seldo's definitive tm playthrough

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|| it makes me very emotional that this kid the inquisition found as a spicy little street kitten grew up to be the guy that faced down two elven gods, and talked a third into maybe not destroying the world.

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Seldo tilted his head one way then the other as he listened, a rapt audience for the First Inquisitor's history lesson. "Clan Ghilain," he said slowly, ruddy brows furrowing. "I've never heard of it— but the only real towns I've heard of are north, up in Arlathan." He stopped short, though, as he said it, realization coming over him at that same moment. "I… sorry. About your clan." He looked away, rubbing his arm as if he were about to be reprimanded. In a way, the pair were in the same boat— no clan to speak of, with only this new Inquisition for some semblance of safety and shelter.

"You were lucky," he began, tone souring as he thought of the Chantry, "that they came at you with missionaries first, instead of with swords. From what I hear, not a lot of us get the chance." He looked Ameridan up and down, lips curling into a small smile. "But you're right— they had to have been drinking that mushroom tea. You don't seem much like an ambassador t' me. A dragon slayer? Absolutely! Leading a whole army? Pretty likely. But sitting in some meeting-hall, tied up in some awful suit and cloak you can hardly breathe under, dealing with nobles?" His nose wrinkled, and he shook his head. "That sounds worse than being stuck in ice for… how long was it? Eight hundred years?"

The younger mage smiled, and gave the elder a soft nudge with his elbow. "And eight hundred and fifty-one is old! Really, really old; but don't worry, you look good for it!"

Ah, right. The lad had just lost his.

Ameridan was struck with a pang of guilt for even bringing up clans and traditions. He shouldn't feel too guilty about the mistake since it happens to the best of people; he hadn't thought about it, but the guilt remained just the same.

But, he was asking questions and opening up. Ameridan would take the out.

"Yes. Far more than what you have now. We were also more independent and settled. It seems that solidifying the Chantry's influence and the war between humans and elves sealed the fates of future elven mages." That may have been partly his fault. He'd helped try to make peace between the two sides, to embrace the cultures and beliefs of both for the sake of being a good little embassador. Maker, it helped further the downfall of the Dalish.

"I'm from clan Ghilain. I wasn't the First, but the Spare. My role changed when I met and befriended one of the Andrastian missionaries. Someone must have been drinking mushroom tea because they thought it a brilliant idea to put me in charge of relations between our clan and a local town. It just snowballed from there."

And...he was right. That would only draw unwanted attention, and no elf or mage wanted that.

"You have a point," he mumbled with a grimace. It would only make things worse.

The old comment caught him off guard and he shot the young man a flat look. "851 is not that old..."

Ameridan was right...because it meant he was ancient. An 'old fart', as it were. Ameridan just didn't like being reminded of his age; he never knew he was vain until he was freed from his little time bubble.

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|| yall please look at seldo in his true dragon age form he's so precious

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|| Seldo... sonboi in any verse....

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New Seldo dropped

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Picking through the bones of an abandoned settlement, as Urnarseldo had come to discover, was a dangerous proposition in the best of times; in these strange days, when a hole in the sky had opened, it nearly proved fatal— it certainly would have been, if not for the timely arrival of four strangers, followed by a veritable army of quartermasters scouts. But with the help of this so-called 'Inquisitor', he and his little sister had managed to escape unscathed, save for a broken arm.

Now, he stood next to the older mage, waiting for the Inquisition medic to finish looking over little Amaneniel, guilt still crawling through his stomach; but the question drew his attention away from his worries and he offered only a lop-sided shrug, before conjuring a small piece of ice to chew— a nervous habit he'd yet to break. "Most Dalish have a clan to go back to," he said, looking down at his ice and grimacing. 'Fade-ice' (as he called it) always tasted odd. "And the clans that haven't been scared off by that thing in the sky are— as I think anyone could guess— kind of reluctant to take in strays right now. And, this seems the best place to avoid any more of those creatures from that... whatever-it-was. It felt like a giant rip in the world's pants. If that makes sense." His eyes fell, and he reached up, itching the still-healing vallaslin he'd only just earned. (Had he earned them? He'd run away from his duty, after all.) "The thing with the horns.... looked at me. Like I was going to be dinner."

The young man cleared his throat, trying to shake off the worry he'd felt for months, now. "Besides, the way I see it, it's a good deal! Ama and I don't eat much, and for just a few extra meals, you can have someone to pop locks for you— not to mention, an extra set of daggers." He patted the blades at his side, before turning back to Solas. "Besides, where's your clan? Do city elves even have clans?"

@dragxnsfire sent: “‘maybe’ is better than ‘no,’ last time i checked. i’ll take it.”  From Urnarseldo!

~ " I see little reason as to why the Inquisitor would deny your request, but as I said, I can offer no guarantees. But if I may ask... ". Solas tilts his head, curiously eyeing the other elf. " Why do you wish to join the Inquisition? We have no Dalish amongst our ranks, and I have met few of your people that ventured outside of their clans. " ~

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The young man turned, giving the First Inquisitor a brief, sour look— that was the sort of chiding he'd expect from a healer… or his own Keeper. Still, he obeyed, and moved to sit on his hands: no way to fidget now. "Right, right— I won't." His brows furrowed as he gave a soft hum. Seldo craned his neck to peer out the nearest window, catching a quick glimpse of one of the Inquisition's soldiers. "Never interacted with them much, not 'til we came here," he said, nodding to the grand banners fluttering from Skyhold's towers. "My clan doesn't…" he paused, swallowing. "Didn't have a town, so it was a little easier to avoid conflict. But not impossible. Obviously." He cleared his throat, gaze shifting up, trying to think of something, anything to fill the silence, to stop his mind from wandering back mere weeks ago.

"There used to be more mages allowed?" he asked, a brow flicking up, tilting his head. "So you weren't your Keeper's First? Or, in training to be?" The young elf's lips drew into a thin line. "It's… odd to think about, you know? What if you had a whole clan of mages?" Seldo's lips pulled into a small frown, looking up at Ameridan anew, finally studying the older elf's face. "So you were Dalish? That's where you got yours?" He rubbed his own forehead with a thumb.

His frown twisted into something more dubious— certainly less curious. He shook his head, and shifted, hopping from his place on the table. "Don't say anything— the last thing I need are a lot of Templars thinking I complained about them. I'd be a 'scared little rabbit'." He snorted. "Besides, I've got my own way of taking care of these things." The young man turned back to Ameridan, folding his arms over his chest. "You know, you don't have to help at all— this isn't your Inquisition; you could retire. Drink tea. Old people like tea, right?"

Ameridan quirked a brow at him as Urnarseldo hopped onto the table. The side of him refined by Drakon's ilk balked at the audacity to set his ass down where people eat. The other, more down-to-earth side had to fight back a laugh at the sight. He settled for an amused smile. It reminded him of Gredal, though he was certain his son was taller...by a hair, maybe.

Ameridan gestured at his hand, absently tossing out a warning out of habit. "Careful rubbing at that; you'll irritate your skin."

"Templars are...hm." He weighed his words carefully, thought better of it, and settled on being frank. "I don't think they're as necessary in this modern era...someone has to keep an eye on them for possession, of course, but mages are capable of watching themselves. We do it just fine within the clans...though I hate that times have changed, and that there are fewer mages allowed in each clan. We didn't have that back in my day."

In his time, mages were more numerous in each clan, and they weren't banished if the clan thought they had too many...it wasn't a problem until the Chantry made it seem like it was one and pressured them into weeding themselves out. In his opinion, it just weakened them and left the clans...barren and devoid of variety. Maybe that's what they wanted to happen to the Dalish. Perhaps he's falling into conspiracy.

Maker, the Chantry had fucked everyone over though.

"Should I speak with him?" Ameridan didn't know if it would do much, but he didn't want Cullen or any of the Templars that had joined the Inquisition bullying the mages. The mages had enough on their plates with the Breach making things difficult for all of them; it could lead to more abominations if they weren't careful and they needed to focus on protecting themselves. Dealing with antsy Templars wouldn't help things. "There shouldn't be any harassment, no matter their role in the Inquisition."

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"An answer is an answer, Hahren," he said, bumping the older elf with his shoulder, before grabbing another handful of nuts. "But— agh, fine, I'll take what I can get." And, just as Felassan had likely hoped, the answer the young mage received only left him with even more questions. "That's it? I—" He stopped himself short. If he asked any more on the subject, the old elf would probably count it as his second question. So he simply nodded. "Herbs. Got it." And as he considered the answer itself, a plan began forming in the back of his mind: he knew just where the spices in the kitchens were kept, and the healers' supply of elfroot… and did the Tevinter mage's khachapuri really need that specially-imported corriander? Doubtful.

Seldo grimaced, and sighed. "Don't like the sound of meditation, but I s'ppose it's worth a shot, at least once. I won't know if I can 'til I try, right?" He settled back with his snack, preparing himself for the elder elf's questions— only to be caught off-guard.

He looked up at Felassan as if the other mage had slapped him; but it was a fair question. They were far from the woods where they'd met so long ago (at least, long to Seldo himself). But it made sense that a wanderer wouldn't have heard his news. "I—" The words stuck in his throat. "The clan's gone," he said simply, eyes turning down to the floor, lips drawing thin. "I was going to be named First, got these—" he rubbed his forehead— "and then… I couldn't do it. I was scared, so I ran. Ama followed me, and when I tried t' take her back… A-anyway, these people found us, and saved us from one of those big, purple demons with the eyes, and the horns."" He fell silent, and looked back up.

"Where've you gone in the Fade? Because I know you've been."

That was fair, tilting his head to the side with a small grin at the mention of his half answers. It was a bad habit, he could admit that, but it was also an entertaining one watching those that he gave them to work the gears in their head to understand.

❝I said I'd answer, not give half answers, but that all depends on what you see as a half answer.❞

Shrugging softly as he works open another nut. Certainly a choice of a first question, was dreaming really that interesting to those that didn't have the same abilities?

❝Herbs.❞

Shoving another nut into his mouth as he answers. It's a short answer, the shortest he could give even, but it was an answer.

❝Herbs and meditation. Find yourself, burn the herbs, and dream. Easy for those with the ability, however not everyone can dream.❞

There was ways to bring another into a dream, but that was not the boy's question, holding his tongue on that bit of information as he considers his question. A simple one to start.

❝What are you doing out here exactly?❞

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Urnarseldo couldn't say he entirely blamed the Templar advisor to the Inquisition for looking at him like a constantly-lit barrel of gaatlok: he was, after all, a Dalish mage who'd often shirked his training in favor of something more exciting… like nicking goodies and trinkets from whatever soldiers were foolish enough to make camp near his own Clan's camp (after all, it was easy enough… when his magic cooperated). But being called into the Commander's office had been both a reprimand, and something of an honor— he hoped. The young elf grunted as he hopped up onto a table beside Ameridan— it was the only way he could see eye-to-eye with the old man— and scoffed.

"The usual sort of questions," he said, shrugging one shoulder flippantly, "how many times I'd exploded during my training, if I'd ever been possessed by a demon or a spirit, again if I'd ever exploded, how I planned to keep other folks around here safe if I ever were possessed…" His brow furrowed. "Maybe it wasn't actually a compliment."

He sighed, leaning forward onto his knees, absently rubbing his new vallaslin; his skin still felt so odd, even after weeks of healing. "Went over about as well as you'd think. He dismissed me, and said to 'watch myself'. As if I've got a choice with all these ex-Templars." He snorted, looking back up at Ameridan, a reddish brow quirking. "D' you think they actually help anything? Because mages seem to cause more problems for shem than they ever did for us."

“He’s never asked my opinion before. I can’t decide whether to feel honored or put on the spot. Maybe a bit of both.” || for Ameridan, from Urnarseldo! (dai-era) @dragxnsfire

Fantasy Fiction Starters | Accepting

Ameridan hid his grimace.

Maker, what could Cullen have wanted advice on where it concerned the mages? Cassandra had told Ameridan a small bit about Cullen's experiences, enough to get the hint without straying into gossip territory. He got the point, and as a demon hunter, he knew what they were capable of and how horrific Cullen's experiences were.

But still, Ameridan wondered how much it clouded his judgement. At the end of the day, he was still a former Templar, still guilty by proxy to the horrors committed against mages.

"I'm almost afraid to ask for details on what he was looking for in an answer." Ameridan met Urnarseldo's eyes and offered an awkward smile. "And how well did that answer go over?"