#vir dirthera

[maliro-t]

The highlight of Veilguard for me is the relationship between Solas and Rook- and I don't know how to write about this on the internet without being acutely aware of other peoples' criticisms (such as there not being enough of it)- so I'll just say up top that I'm not actually intending this as a refutation of any of those. I just want to talk about my experience with the game and why I like it so much, which will probably make obvious where I disagree with some reoccurring critiques I've seen. *

The thing about Solas in this game is that he plays the role of the trickster perfectly. As much as Fen'Harel is a myth or a persona, and the stories we know of him invented or twisted, his role in Veilguard feels like it could slot in so, so easily with the myths, and in many ways directly parallels them. He is sinister and noble, monstrous and sympathetic, ruthless and compassionate, all at once. He spends the game trapped and humbled but can be almost gleefully condescending at times. He conflates outsmarting an enemy with being right, even as he plays the long-suffering martyr, tortured by countless mistakes. He falls easily into the role of advisor but is quick to note your foolishness. To sneer and declare the problem yours and yet still impose upon you an appraisal of your conduct.

But more than any of that, for most of the game, he's...passive. Dormant. He seems to make no moves, other than as a glorified consultant, despite starting as the main threat.

In Blood of Arlathan, when he finally rears his head again as major a player on the board, it's with a gallant offer of help. As an ally. He is exactly what you need, right when you need it, and you don't even have to ask him to be. And- because you don't have constant access to him, you maybe haven't even considered him an option!

He feels extremely intentionally sparing to me before this in service of a) making you think you're the one with power over him and b) causing you to forget he might contribute at all, so that when he finally does, it seems wholly benevolent. It comes in a moment where your goals are exactly aligned, and indisputably noble.

It's a waiting game. A classic of his, harkening back to stories we've heard time and again about Fen'harel and traps.

As Felassan tells it in the Masked Empire:

Fen'Harel was captured by the hunting goddess, Andruil. He had angered her by hunting the halla without her blessing, and she tied him to a tree and declared that he would have to serve in her bed for a year and a day to pay her back. But as she made camp that night, the dark god Anaris found them, and Anaris swore that he would kill Fen'Harel for crimes against the Forgotten Ones. Andruil and Anaris decided that they would duel for the right to claim Fen'Harel. He called out to Anaris during the fight and told him of a flaw in Andruil's armor just above the hip, and Anaris stabbed Andruil in the side, and she fell. Then Fen'Harel told Anaris that he owed the Dread Wolf for the victory and ought to get his freedom. Anaris was so affronted by Fen'Harel's audacity that he turned and shouted insults at the prisoner, and so he did not see Andruil, injured but alive, rise behind him and attack with her great bow. Anaris fell with a golden arrow in his back, badly injured, and while both gods slumbered to heal their wounds, Fen'Harel chewed through his ropes and escaped.

He goads his enemies into fighting each other for his benefit. Anaris, who had hunted him, succeeds with Fen'Harel's advice, exploiting a weakness he could only see with his aid. In turn, Anaris himself is left exposed. The victory goes to Fen'Harel, who has now dispatched two enemies at once and cleverly won his freedom.

He who was both Creator and Forgotten One. Who could walk amongst both as kin, and who in the end turned his back on them all.

Another tale:

The god Fen'Harel was asked by a village to kill a great beast. He came to the beast at dawn, and saw its strength, and knew it would slay him if he fought it. So instead, he shot an arrow up into the sky. The villagers asked Fen'Harel how he would save them, and he said to them, 'When did I say that I would save you?' And he left, and the great beast came into the village that night and killed the warriors, and the women, and the elders. It came to the children and opened its great maw, but then the arrow that Fen'Harel had loosed fell from the sky into the great beast's mouth, and killed it. The children of the village wept for their parents and elders, but still they made an offering to Fen'Harel of thanks, for he had done what the villagers had asked. He had killed the beast, with his cunning, and a slow arrow that the beast never noticed.

Felassan is everywhere in the Crossroads, in memories, in regrets, in notes that speak to a time you can barely fathom and traces of a friendship that is never once brought up by Solas directly (to my knowledge at least). I think Felassan serves a lot of purposes; he's a window into history, into Solas' mind and ideals, someone who challenges moments of ruthlessness but is loyal, an advisor who keeps Solas grounded even as he pushes him to become something larger than he is, a lingering notion of a loss that you can never really see the full scale of, and so on. And I think, too, that he's written carefully to be a meaningful presence from the rebellion without explicitly spoiling what eventually happens to him, which I wouldn't be surprised if was a legit consideration made for people who might go back and read the Masked Empire after dav lol- in the same way that Trespasser only really spoils the book if you already know what happens.

But for me, every note signed with his name is almost a tongue-in-cheek warning about what's to come. Felassan. A slow arrow, fired apparently mockingly into the sky, only to strike true when it's least expected. A solution executed with neither kindness nor explanation, serving first and foremost the interests of the one who fired it. Felassan's presence in the game ever so slightly encodes a reminder of who you're actually dealing with and what his core tenants are, whether as an ally or an adversary. You only know if you know, but it doesn't seem an accident to me that this reoccurring name of a general who shaped himself in honor of the Dread Wolf's unorthodox cleverness is so key to these traces of Fen'Harel's past, despite, again, never directly being discussed.

Anyways, to Rook. First, I gotta give a shoutout to Bryony Corrigan, whose voice I used for mine- she honestly made the game for me, especially in moments where I felt unsure of it. I love Rook, I love how they're written, and I love how they're performed. While a complete blank slate protagonist can be really fun, I find putting myself as a player in conversation with limitations given by the game really fun and interesting, and often surprising! And I do feel there's still plenty of flexibility.

My perspective on the relationship between Rook and Solas in Veilguard is specific to how I played of course, and I haven't seen other versions of their dynamic at this point to compare so I can't speak to them. But my experience was as such:

I didn't come into the game wanting to intentionally antagonize him. If he rose at me, I rose at him- and those moments of tension were really, really fun. But I tried to accept what he gave me with a fairly open mind. Skepticism, sure, but also the knowledge that ultimately, we both wanted Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain gone, and he knew them better than I did.

It was really gratifying, then, to see our rocky partnership evolve over time into what seemed like a genuine respect. But it didn't really feel straightforward to me either. For example, the conversation before Weisshaupt held a lot of weight for me: listening to him tell that chilling tale about undermining an enemy with persistent laughter and finding that 'Do whatever it takes to remove those who oppose you' was something we came out aligned on was.... There was an element of foreboding to that. Like, I had found myself actively trying to impress him here! And feeling good when it seemed like I had, but uneasy about how I had done it, even when I agreed with what I'd said.

And of course, after that comes Arlathan. Solas' big hero moment. This is the point in the game where our alliance finally felt comfortable to me. The conversation in the fade after was the first time that it really seemed like we were on even ground. And the game- not just Solas- told me here outright that I had earned his respect! After that, I didn't consider betrayal a possibility for a moment. Honestly, I barely even considered him an antagonist at all, because he had become a partner instead! I was expecting something clever down the line, but I wasn't worried about it hurting me. Our disagreements had been set aside, and the goal of his that I had initially opposed had been so thoroughly usurped I had forgotten that he was even pursuing it. And yes, that's perhaps naivety on my part, but I was so distracted by that not at all being the main plot that I forgot that it actually still was. Which is the whole point, right? He waits until your head is turned the other way to strike.

All this to say, my reaction when you kill Ghilan'nain and Solas uses the instability of the Veil to force you into his prison went beyond shock and confusion. It wasn't until well into his villain monologue that I was able to accept that he had betrayed me at all- having been thus far trying desperately to convince myself that the sequence I was seeing was Elgar'nan playing mind games in retaliation, and not actually Solas.

That prison moment is his Slow Arrow. You are Anaris to Elgar'nan's Andruil, the dagger the chink in her armor, and Ghilan'nain's death the golden arrow striking you in the back.

The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap.

And I should say, I was coming at this all from the meta perspective of someone who loves Solas and empathizes with him and has never seen him as irredeemable or evil- and I, the player, who believed that all game and is ultimately satisfied with the resolution I got- felt hoodwinked as fuck in this moment lmao!!

There's a line in the prison that Varric has about it being easier for Solas to play the villain when he knows he's causing harm- so I do think he plays up his sinisterness here on purpose. But it's such a slap in the face coming straight off of "You have earned the respect of the Dread Wolf." A true and profound betrayal, at least for me.

And it doesn't stop there! His trickster maneuvers and half-truths aren't done until the credits roll. I love that when you meet again, he is nothing but apologies. He makes every concession- that Varric was a good man, that every victory in this fight has been yours, that he needs you and not the other way around, that he was wrong and made mistakes and betrayed people who never deserved it. And of course, we know from experience at this point that this won't stop him from doing it again anyways. But he never holds back from placing the blame on himself. Agreeing with you. Telling you you're right, and that Elgar'nan must be stopped. He only ever says things that are true. Things that are aligned with your point of view.

"[The veil] will never come down by my hand." Well, yes. Because it will fall on its own when Elgar'nan is dead. You won't hardly have to do anything at that point, Solas, will you?

It doesn't matter if Rook isn't falling for it, because if they don't accept his partnership, they lose! That's it! It's the same as it was at the start, but with the added sting of knowing it probably won't work out in your favor this time.

I remember before launch John Epler saying that Solas sees himself in Rook, which really echoes throughout the whole game for me. There are some ways you could say Solas seems opposite to Rook- and of course this can wax and wane depending on roleplaying choices, but the central conceit of Rook as Varric's recruit is that they are a specialist in being willing to act. And on the surface at least, that's kind of counter to Solas' Slow Arrow, right? Blunt force versus delayed gratification. But not entirely! Because every backstory we have for Rook revolves around a kind of heroism that is unorthodox enough to have left you ultimately punished for it. Like yeah, yeah, you saved some lives.... The optics were kinda bad though, so maybe you could go on a sabbatical for a while?

Rook is, from the start, an unconventional and unsung hero, admonished by some for ruffling feathers that they shouldn't have in pursuit of a noble goal. Not unlike Fen'Harel.

I find, too, that there's kind of a nesting doll of parallels around Rook and Solas as foils that the whole story hinges on:

We see Solas, his regrets plastered on every wall, each of them tied to Mythal. At every turn he seems to warn her that this is not the right path, but he follows her down it anyways, until he is left with nothing but an overwhelming need to fix what they have broken.

We see Felassan, who still wears Mythal's vallaslin on his face, challenging Solas' judgement and methods, but still standing by him through the rebellion, after the Veil, for however many thousands of years they slept. Ultimately, in the Masked Empire, the thing that makes him falter is his admiration for someone else's pursuit of freedom. His admiration for Briala.

"I suspect you'll hate this, but she reminds me of-"

Solas is Rook. Solas is Briala. Upstarts, flawed defenders, people who are made into leaders because of their willingness to fight for something. Who see injustice and cannot rest.

Solas is Felassan, the devoted general. One who pushes against his orders but cannot deny them. Someone who loves the cause, but more than that is dedicated to the person who champions it. A voice of reason who, in the end, turns away.

Solas is Mythal, a pragmatic leader, responsible for uncountable deaths. Someone who has relied on partners and power structures that have led her down a dark path, partners whose mistakes in their pursuit of power have become her own. Partners who in the end betray her.

Solas is trapped in his regrets because they are not all his. He struggles with having been failed and with how he has failed others, and in his mind the two become conflated. He carries these contradictory roles on his back- perpetrator and victim, betrayer and betrayed- and cannot see how to overcome them. He is ultimately freed by Mythal's absolution because the foremost factor in his crusade is not belief but guilt.

The ends have to justify the means, because there is no other way he can live with himself. And at every step, he is trying to redeem Mythal as much as he is trying to redeem himself.

He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He wanted to give wisdom, not orders. I will always follow where you go.

He left a scar when he burned her off his face.

It was all for her. It was always for her.

Solas' duplicity is unending, but so is his devotion. And there is such an earnestness to a Rook, always betrayed, that sees and empathizes with that and uses it to free him.

* I will say that during the game I was definitely wishing you could show your hand to him a little more and press him about his memories prior to the endgame (and separate from this I have quibbles with the impact of some of those memory reveals- like wrt the delivery just not feeling as weighty as I would like. The payoff is absolutely still there in the end, it just felt to me like they were too nonchalantly getting a ton of info out that had to be established moving forward, despite these being like earthshattering reveals that people have Correctly (!!!!) theorized about for up to 15 years). That being said, in retrospect it would have lessened the impact of the finale to have pressed Solas about, for example, his relationship to Mythal prior to absolutely pulling the rug out from under him with it at the 11th hour. And additionally, it's a structural nightmare because you can uncover the memories at almost any point in the story, and you don't have constant access to Solas to chat with him about them. Which you shouldn't imo, in service to the story being told!! But it's also true that early on I found scenes with Solas super gripping, and scenes with my team often...not. And that was initially disheartening, but developed positively over time on all fronts once the game didn't have to worry about setting things up. So, I did wish for more here at first, but I've revised my opinion now that I can see the whole arc.

[varricscheticles]

vir sulahn'nehn vir dirthera vir samahl la numin vir lath sa'vunin

we sing, rejoice we tell the tale we laugh and cry we love one more day

My Inquisitor: Eol'wyn Lavellan

Mods Used: Inquisitor's Outfit Swap - Wedding Dress (Reva's Robes) by ilzkaal on Nexus Solas Robes Retexture - White and Gold Robes with Leaf Design by pinacoladamatata on Nexus Dragon Age: The Veilguard photomode tools by Otis_Inf on Patreon

[fandomtrashrat]

Whispers of the Heart

Solas//Lavellan

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A/N: It’s been a HOT minute since I posted but I finally finished the third chapter! I have lots of plans for the next couple of chapters so I’m really excited. Enjoy ★彡

For a brief moment, the weight of the world lifted from Lavellan’s shoulders and she felt truly free.

The sun’s rays poured through the leaves overhead, creating a pattern of light and shadows as they bled through the canopy. Racing through the trees, she showed a gracefulness that made it seem like she was floating. She ran without abandon, feeling the exhilaration of the wind in her hair and the earth beneath her bare feet. She leaped over fallen logs and darted through narrow openings between the towering trees. The wind whispered in her ear and the songs of birds filled the air; it was as if the forest itself welcomed her into its embrace.

Lavellan’s laughter echoed through the woods. With every step, she felt a deep connection to her people, a subtle reminder of the freedom her people once had in these ancient woods. She took in a deep breath. Here, in this moment, she wasn’t the Inquisitor, she was simply Lavellan; lost in the beauty of the forest.

She ran until she eventually reached the edge of the woods, where the trees thinned, and a breathtaking sight unfolded before her—a crystal-clear lake nestled in a tranquil crawling, glistening under the gentle caress of the sunrise. Kneeling beside the pristine lake, she cupped her hands and dipped them into the cool, inviting water. She brought her palms to her lips, the cold water rushing down her throat. Feeling refreshed, Lavellan sat at the root of a tree, her eyes drifting to the dancing ripples on the lake’s surface. After being in the desert for almost two weeks, she had missed the soothing embrace of the forest. She closed her eyes for a moment, she was convinced that the spirits of the wild were whispering their secrets to her; she just had to be quiet enough to listen.

She kept her eyes closed, even when she heard footsteps approaching beside her.

“I know we need to leave soon, but I just need a moment by myself,” Lavellan sighed to no one in particular. She assumed that it was one of the Inquisition soldiers reminding her of their departure back to Skyhold, most likely by the command of Cassandra, but when she didn’t hear a response, she opened her eyes.

A few feet to her right sat a black wolf, its piercing eyes staring at the lake in front of her. Under the golden rays of the sun, it was as if the very essence of midnight itself had come alive in the daylight. The wind blew on its fur, revealing hidden undertones of midnight blue. If Lavellan wasn’t so shocked by the wolf’s calm behavior, she would have fully mustered the words ‘beautiful’. Under the unwavering stares of Lavellan, the wolf turned its head, its bluish-grey colored eyes meeting Lavellan’s gaze. Struck by the depth within the wolf’s gaze, it was as if the creature was trying to communicate with her.

“Where is your pack? Are you alone vir dirthera?” The wolf returned its gaze to the water. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She could have sworn that she heard the wolf exhale sharply. She followed suit, looking at the lake’s glistening waves reflecting their surroundings. “I felt alone for a very long time after I left my pack, but I finally feel like I’m starting to find my place in my new one.” Lavellan’s voice held a tinge of vulnerability as she shared her thoughts with the silent companion.

The wolf’s ears perked up at her words, and it seemed to regard her with a newfound intensity as if it understood the weight of her words. Lavellan continued, her voice becoming quieter, “But sometimes, when I’m alone at night…I feel like I’m back at Haven. All I hear are the screams of the ones we lost. All I smell is the blood–mine, the monsters’, the people’s.” There was a pause as Lavellan let in a shaky breath. “The worst part was the cave. I had no idea if I had saved anyone or if I made things worse. I thought I was going to die alone without knowing if anything that I had done had helped.”

Lavellan sighed, “I know I can’t change the past, but sometimes, I wonder if what I’ve done up till this point has changed anything. What if we’ve put all this work into trying to fix Thedas, but we’re only delaying the inevitable?” As if in response, the wolf emitted a low, almost sympathetic growl. It was a sound that resonated with the shared pain of the unknown.

Lavellan turned to the wolf, a small smile on her face. “But then, there are moments that make me believe it’s worth it. The smiles of those we’ve saved, the lives we’ve touched, and the difference we’ve made. And if we can do that, maybe it’s worth the fight?”

The wolf remained there, its piercing eyes fixed on Lavellan with unwavering understanding. It was as if the creature sensed the depth of her sorrow and shared in her silent grief. Lavellan wiped away a forming tear with the back of her hand, her voice now barely more than a whisper. “I don’t talk about these things, not with anyone. But there’s something about this place, about you,” she said, her attention returning to the wolf, “that makes me feel like I can.” The wolf continued to watch her, offering no judgment or condemnation, only silent companionship. It was as if the forest itself had lent her a listener for her unspoken burdens.

Suddenly, various shouts erupted from the woods, “Inquisitor! Inquisitor Lavellan!” Lavellan sighed as she leaned her back against the tree, looking around at her surroundings. If it were to be the last time she’d ever visit this place again, she wanted to remember every single detail: the smell of the pine, the ripples of the water, the utter serenity that overwhelmed every atom of her being. She breathed in the fresh air once more as she readied herself to go back.

“It seems that duty calls…thank yo–” as Lavellan turned her gaze toward the wolf, she realized that it had long vanished.

“Inquisitor, how kind of you to join us,” Cassandra mumbled, a mixture of annoyance and relief, as she packed her supplies. Lavellan simply offered a sheepish grin as she walked towards Cassandra, she truly did not want to have to explain to her the reason for being late involved in a morning therapy session with a wolf. “I must urge you to start preparing your horse, Inquisitor. We have a long ride ahead of us.” Lavellan nodded and quickly walked over to her horse, packing for the journey.

It wasn’t until their departure that Lavellan finally spotted Solas, blending in with the soldiers at the rear of the group. His contemplative gaze met hers, and a silent understanding passed between them. Lavellan urged her horse forward, and Solas subtly joined her at the front.

“I imagine that your morning adventure was promising?” he inquired, his tone carrying a hint of intrigue.

“You could definitely say that,” she admitted, a smile forming at the way Solas seemed to read her mind. “Solas, can spirits come in animal forms?”

“It’s certainly possible” Solas mused. “The Fade often intertwines with our world in mysterious ways. Why do you ask?” With that, Lavellan recounted the encounter with the wolf, describing its unusual appearance and behavior.

Lavellan looked towards Solas, a confused expression etched on her face, “One thing that confuses me is if it truly was a spirit, why would it be drawn to me?”

Solas considered her words carefully, his eyes staring at the horizon. “The threads of fate are intricate, Inquisitor. We are but weavers, unraveling the tapestry as we go. The reasons could be as complex as the Fade itself. Perhaps it sensed something within you, a connection that goes beyond the mundane. The spirits are drawn to certain individuals, certain emotions that you may have been feeling at the time; seeking to simply influence or guide those willing to listen.”

“If that’s the case, then I truly hope that it was a spirit that visited me,” Lavellan murmured.

“Why is that?”

“Because the thought of it being alone saddens me.”

A/N: Vir Dirthera = Wolf (at least according to chatgbt)

[anna-dreamer]

Day 27. Elder Heey i made a new Mahariel! Name's Lindis (yeah, yeah, i know, not gonna make her die, she will have a baby with Morrigan). She wears an Elgar'nan vallaslin, as she believes in fighting against the oppressors with force, not taking half-measures. Also, she is a musician so she will sing In Uthenera herself thank you very much!

hahren na melana sahlin emma ir abelas souver'inan isala hamin vhenan him dor'felas in uthenera na revas

vir sulahn'nehn vir dirthera vir samahl la numin vir lath sa'vunin

[abelasx]

They had a word for it in their language.

Banalhan. The Blight that had been killing their people for years; Dirthera was young when he'd started to fade. It had been centuries since Abelas had last known his father, but he remembered how his body withered, how his skin purpled in places, how it receded until hardly anything elvhen left about him. Abelas remembered how Oberon had wept for his friend, and the hand the King had placed on his shoulder when he'd told him he wasn't alone. He'd all but forgotten the song entirely, as was Abelas's way until Ikaros uttered its name once more.

Suledin. Ikaros said. Endure.

Abelas had known nymphs who'd wept themselves to stone, dryads that sank into their roots and never rose from the dirt again. Abelas had started to understand the sort of grief that left a statue in the place where a person used to be.

"Melava inan enansal," Abelas muttered as Ikaros dried his eyes and the older of the two looked down at Icarus in his lap. "ir su travel tu elvaral," he ran his hands over the mess of mattered feathers as Icarus quaked. "u no emma abelas," a quiver ran up the sorrowful spine of the elvhen, he'd carved out this shape for himself so long ago he'd forgotten that he'd ever gone by another name. "in elgar sa vir mana," he sniffed as Abelas brought the back of his wrist under his nose. "in tu setheneran din emma an."

'Time was once a blessing, but long journeys are made longer when alone within. Take spirit from long ago, but do not dwell in lands no longer yours.'

"Lath sulevin, lath araval ena," Abelas was still a child when the Blight took one of his fathers from him. One was taken without any choice and the other left on his own accord. There was a reason why, since then, there were claw marks in everything that had ever been dragged away from Abelas. Why he fought so hard. "arla ven tu vir mahvir, melana 'nehn, enasal ir sa lethalin."

'Be certain in need, and the path will emerge to a home tomorrow, and time will again be the joy it once was.'

Time did not care if Abelas was ready or not, regardless of what any of them may have wanted, the Blight would try and kill them just the same. There was a time to grieve and a time to press ahead. They were elvhen, they swallowed the pain with the years and pushed forward. Time would not stand by and patiently wait and watch him as he mourned; Ikaros couldn't say it, so Abelas would be certain enough for both of them.

"You're going to be fine," Abelas laid his hands on the owlbear's coat, he couldn't control anything except what was in front of him. Vallas was awake now, circling overhead but close. "he's going to be fine." There were witches and waygates and airships and flying mounts and probably more. One way or another, they were getting to Blackrock.

"We'll get there," Ikaros had no doubt about that – there had to be someone, or something, that could get them there. Even the shadows of the night would be dangerous, and he and Saleba could only go so quickly through them. Ikaros watched as Gwaern crawled to be closer to Vallas and Abelas, the little obsidian dragon not entirely enjoying the sorrow that he was feeling between the two.

"Abelas," Ikaros looked at his brother now, and perhaps this was yet another time that Abelas couldn't run his way through his feelings, through what was taking place. Elvhen were emotional creatures, so much like the fey that surrounded their gate. Too often he knew his brother to slam his fists down on the rocks, to shatter anything that would dare try and take something away from him. A gentle soul and a gentle heart, and one that Ikaros would never lie to. "We have to try. For Icarus, right? If we don't try, then what he did here, for you, for me – we have to try."

He used his free hand to wipe the tears from his brother's cheek. Ikaros felt his own eyes burn, but he couldn't do that – not now. His resolve had to carry through, but there was doubt. It crept through his chest as he thought about how far they had to go. "I swear I will try with everything I have to make sure nothing happens to him, Abelas." Sorrow – sorrow in his brother's name – unfair with how much joy the two brought to life. "Suledin, Abelas." Endure. "Come on. Get up. Icarus is strong, he'll fight for you more than himself. So show him that we can make it. Believe in it."

[sacredsymbol821]

16, 22, 23 for the FEH asks?

16. An underrated character you like to use?People say Boey is a bad green mage and like??? I don’t see it, he’s done wonders on every team I’ve put him on.

22. Favourite banner so far?The Nohrian Summer one! though I got 0 focus units cuz the game HATES ME

23. What favs of yours are still not in the game?WHERE IS KAZE, AND SUMIA, AND SILAS? I’m also hoping for a child banner, though that could get messy really fast

[theharellan]

Marking Time

Part one of a series of headcanons discussing holidays and celebrations in Elvhenan, both in the empire itself and the rebellion that later challenged its power. I’ll be laying out my influences more clearly in the next part, but for now I’ll just say that my major influences in writing this are Jewish and Celtic. I’m doing this with feedback and may make adjustments as I go forward. I���m also happy to share headcanons and I’m also just as happy to make room for one another’s headcanons should they conflict in roleplay.

As a final note: conlangs are not my specialty, I am just doing my best.

Elvhenan

Cole: Look at all the stars. Their light is very far away. Some of them are gone.

Solas: Vast but still. Does it bother you, how different it looks than the sky in the Fade?

Cole: At first, I didn't remember. Now I just want to forget.

Before the Veil time was, shall we say, a nebulous concept. We know it existed in some sense from codices such as the Hundred Year Duel and Birds of Fancy, which both refer to “years,” indicating that the idea exists, but is treated much differently from how we might treat a year. There aren’t birthdays, traditional New Years, and everything else we associate with a calendar year. From what we know of Thedas, it takes the same amount of time for the plant its on to rotate around the sun as Earth, and I think Elvhenan were cognizant of that fact but didn’t consider it particularly remarkable. If they had anything resembling months, I think there would only be four— spring, summer, fall, and winter, beginning on the equinox and ending on the solstice, or vice versa.

Rather than measure time based on the rotation of the planet, or even the rotation of the moons around the planet, Elvhenan measured time on other celestial bodies. The elves and spirits of Elvhenan are consistently associated with the air and sky, in contrast to the dwarves, they also through the Fade seem to perceive the heavens differently than we do. As I highlighted above, Cole is aware of the fact that many of the stars they see are dead, and I think this would also mean that Elvhenan possessed knowledge of things such as the expansion of the universe, the the death of stars, the passage of comets, the rotation of whatever system their planet lies in around the universe’s center, et cetera. It was through these that they marked the passage of time and designated particular holidays. For example, a centenary comet which passes beneath the boughs of the constellation now known as Fervenial might kick off a holiday honouring the goddess Andruil.

In Elvhenan sacred space was also considered more important than sacred time. Pilgrimages were common and often important parts of the lives of the faithful, but there was never a set time of year in which to take them. It was always the where instead of the when, and I mean “where” in two senses of the word. Where could mean the sacred lands of Mythal, or the wooded paths in deep, dark woods, with only the distant stone gaze of Fen’ara to mark the wilderness, but “where” could just as easily be a state of being (or sometimes both). Attaining a particular state of mind through meditation was an important step in reaching the Deepest Fade, a mark of spiritual achievement that took years of work and practise. Being in the right emotional state of mind to embark on a pilgrimage was important, and failing to do so would risk the wrath of the god in question.

Elvhen Revolution

Vir sulahn'nehn Vir dirthera Vir samahl la numin Vir 'lath sa'vunin'

Come the rebellion, time is measured differently. It begins first and foremost as a survival tactic and a war tactic, I’ve mentioned in prior headcanons that the rebellion employs guerilla tactics in order to get the edge on Elvhenan’s forces, which vastly outnumber theirs. One way they subvert the manner in which war is waged is making battles much shorter than is expected. We see in the Duel of a Hundred Years that some battles could last a century and the most noteworthy thing about them was not their longevity, but the reason for which they were fighting (preventing a war between the gods). By making battles that are expected to last years last weeks, days, hours, retreating into dreams as quickly as they manifested, they catch the enemy off-guard. By inventing the concept of weeks they’re living in a way that their enemy doesn’t even fully understand. It allowed things to be put on tighter schedules, enabled meetings to be arranged and carried out on short notice, enabled rotating shifts for things such as uthenera where oftentimes someone had to be the person to rise and make sure the others’ bodies would not starve to death in dreams.

And it enabled sacred time rather than sacred space.

Often deprived of the places they would consider sacred, the rebellion created their own sacred ceremonies from wherever they happened to be. Battles that were fought and won on one cold winter morning would be marked again the next year in celebration and memorial, but carried on no longer than the skirmish itself had. When it is their freedom upon the line what time they have cannot be eaten up by weeks or years of frivolity. Not when tomorrow could be their last day alive.

Their years began with summer and their weeks began and ended with sundown, each month contained twenty-nine or thirty days, divided further into two fortnights, and there are twelve to thirteen months in a year (every two and a half years an intercalary month is added).

Days of the Week

The week begins with Saturday night/Sunday morning and continues on to sundown on the following Saturday.

Sa’laia — First Night (sah-lie-a)

She’laia — Second Night (shay-lie-a)

Tanalaia — Third Night (tah-na-lie-a)

Nehlaia — Fourth Night (neh-lie-a)

Uylaia — Fifth Night (ooth-lie-a)

Valaia — Sixth Night (vah-lie-a)

Var’laia — Our Night (var-lie-a)

Months

There are twelve to thirteen months in the year, with a leap month every two and a half years to compensate for the shift in the year.

Enasalas — The Triumph of Joy Over Grief — Justinian-Solace / June-July

Bella’serannas — The Time of Many Thanks — Solace-August / July-August

Valelgar — The Sun’s Waning — August-Kingsway / August-September

Adhalana — The Time of Trees — Kingsway-Harvestmere / September-October

Elvhen’al — The Gathering of the People — Harvestmere-Firstfall / October-November

Sethenerava — The Time for Dreams — Firstfall-Haring / November-December

Estarasyl’an — The Month of Stars — Haring-Wintermarch / December-January

Fen’banal’ras — The Wolf’s Shadow — Wintermarch-Guardian* / January-February

Mi’avhena — Winter’s End — Guardian-Drakonis / February-March

Thenalava — The Time of Waking — Intercalary Month, occurs every third year

Ghilana’ma — The Time of Guidance — Drakonis-Cloudreach / March-April

Anallas — The Month of Clouds — Cloudreach-Bloomingtide / April-May

Balam’shivana — The End of Duty’s Chains — Bloomingtide-Justinian / May-June

* The month of Guardian is a remnant of the Elvhen calendar’s influence upon the Tevinter calendar, as wolves are/were considered guardians in Elvhen myth.

These calendars later went on to become the Dalish calendar. After the fall of the Veil, refugees from both Elvhenan and Fen’Harel’s rebellion were overtaken by Tevinter, and their traditions melded and informed what is now contemporary Dalish culture. It is likely this calendar fell out of use during the period where Elvhenan’s survivours were slaves of Tevinter, and picked up again after they won their freedom. Names and meaning likely also changed as memories of the evanuris and their tyranny faded from memory.

[elvenprincessv]

Dragon Age Inquisition Elvish

hahren na melana sahlin=elder your time is come

emma ir abelas=now I am filled with sorrow

souver'inan isala hamin=weary eyes need resting

vhenan him dor'felas=heart has become grey and slow

in uthenera na revas=in waking sleep is freedom

vir sulahn'nehn=we sing rejoice

vir dirthera=we tell the tale

vir samahl la numin=we laugh and cry

vir lath sa'vunin=we love one more day

Melava inan enansal=Time was once a blessing

ir su araval tu elvaral=but long journeys are made longer

u na emma abelas=when alone within

in elgar sa vir mana=Take spirit from the long ago

in tu setheneran din emma na=but do not dwell in lands no longer yours

lath sulevin=Be certain in need

lath araval ena=and the path will emerge

arla ven tu vir mahvir=to a home tomorrow

melana ‘nehn=and time will again

enasal ir sa lethalin=be the joy it once was

Andaran atish’an=I dwell in this place

An'daran Atish'an=My home is your home You will not come to harm while you are here

Aneth ara=My safe place

Ar lasa mala revas=You are free

Ar lath ma=I love you

Asha'belannar=The Woman of Many Years

Bellanaris Din'an Heem=Make you dead

Bellanaris Din'an=eternal death

Dareth shiral=Safe journey

Dirth'ena enasalin=knowledge that led to victory

Dirthara ma=May you learn

Ara seranna ma=Excuse me

Fen'Harel enansal=The Dread Wolf’s blessing

Ghilan'him banal'vhen=The path that leads astray

Halam'shivanas=The sweet sacrifice of duty

Ir abelas=I am sorry

Ir abelas ma vhenan=I am filled with sorrow for your loss my heart

Ir tel'him=I’m me again

Lathbora viran=the path to a place of lost love

Ma ghilana mir din'an=Guide me into death

Ma melava halani=You helped me

Mala suledin nadas=Now you must endure

Ma nuvenin=As you wish

Ma vhenan=My heart

Ma serannas=My thanks

Ma halani=Help me

Melana en athim las enaste=Now let humility grant favor

Tel'abelas=I’m not sorry

Tel garas solasan=Come not to a prideful place

Telanadas=Nothing is inevitable

Vir'abelasan=The place of the way of sorrows

Tarasyl'an Te'las=the place where the sky was held back

Fenedhis lasa=Go suck a wolf’s dick

Dar'eth shiral=Have a safe journey

Isalan hima sa i’na=I lust to become one with you

Isalan hima na=I lust to become you

Isalan gara suin na=I lust to come into you

Isalan gara suin na=I want to come into you

Isalan ma gara suin em=I lust for you to come into me

Isalan ma gara suin em=I want you to come into me

Vera em su tarasyl=Take me to the sky

Juveran na su tarasyl=I will take you to the sky

Isalan dara su tarasyl i’na =I want to go to the sky with you

isalan dara su tarasyl i'na=I want to go to the sky with you

Isalan dera na aron tuelan=I will touch you like a god/goddess

Ar'na=me and you

ar'na=me and you

Fen'harel ver na=Dread wolf take you

fen'harel ver na=dread wolf take you

Nuvas ema ir'enastela=Thank you May you have great blessings

Nuvas ema ir’enastela=Thank you May you have great blessings

nuvas ema ir’enastela=thank you May you have great blessings

nuvas ema ir'enastela=thank you May you have great blessings

Sathem lasa halani=Pleased to help

sathem lasa halani=pleased to help

lasa halani=pleased to help

Lasa halani=Pleased to help

Dinathe'dirthelan=Necromancer

Lin'thanelan=Blood mage

Ena'sal'in'amelan=Arcane Warrior

Ladarelan'elgar=Spirit Healer

Dun'himelan=Shape shifter

Panathe'virelan=Battle mage

Uralas'falon=Keeper

Ala'syl'ise'man'thanelan=Elemental mage

Sou'alas'rajelan=Force mage

Sou'i’ve'an'thanelan=Rift Mage

Erelan=Dreamer

Erelanen=Dreamers

Erelan dun'himelan=Skilled Dream mage

[dragoncodex]

In Uthenera

Codex #216

hahren na melana sahlin emma ir abelas souver'inan isala hamin vhenan him dor'felas in uthenera na revas

vir sulahn'nehn vir dirthera vir samahl la numin vir lath sa'vunin

Translated from the elven tongue:

elder your time is come

now I am filled with sorrow weary eyes need resting heart has become grey and slow in waking sleep is freedom we sing, rejoice we tell the tales we laugh and cry we love one more day

-- From "In Uthenera," traditional elven song of unknown origin.

[bittergossamer]

In Uthenera

An elven song.

hahren na melana sahlin emma ir abelas souver'inan isala hamin vhenan him dor'felas in uthenera na revas vir sulahn'nehn vir dirthera vir samahl la numin vir lath sa'vunin

Translated from the elven tongue:

elder your time is come now I am filled with sorrow weary eyes need resting heart has become grey and slow in waking sleep is freedom we sing, rejoice we tell the tales we laugh and cry we love one more day --From "In Uthenera," traditional elven song of unknown origin.

from Dragon Age Origins, Codex Entry: In Uthenera

[necromosss]

hahren na melana sahlin emma ir abelas souver'inan isala hamin vhenan him dor'felas in uthenera na revas vir sulahn'nehn vir dirthera vir samahl la numin vir lath sa'vunin

[maliro-t]

replaying dav act 1 and the way i instantly prefer the minrathous route is wild sorry antiva 💀💀💀

[erikacousland]

天鹅与夜莺 第54节(龙腾世纪：起源 同人小说)

第54节 死亡

‘如同大自然本身，枯牙(Witherfang)有着两面性。一面��狼，野蛮并且男性化……但另一面为森林女士，温柔并且女性化。枯牙既是野兽又是美女，凶残而又爱好和平。’

见扎斯瑞安(Zathrian)已经无法抵抗，枯牙放开前爪向后退开。一阵金光包围了它，随着光芒消失，森林女士又出现在大家面前。 “了结它！现在就杀了他！”疾行者(Swiftrunner)兴奋地吼叫着，冲了过来。 “不！”蕾莉亚娜(Leliana)朝他奔去。 “不，疾行者。我们不会杀他。如果在我们的心中没有了怜悯，又怎么可能期待他有？”森林女士迅速抬手拦住疾行者。 蕾莉亚娜如释重负，走近还在地上痛苦惨叫着的扎斯瑞安(Zathrian)…… “温妮，帮帮他。”她回头看着还只能用法杖支撑身体的温妮(Wynne)。温妮点点头，走向扎斯瑞安。 “慢着！”莫瑞甘(Morrigan)突然喊道，趔趄着冲上前拦住温妮。 “先让他保证会解除诅咒。”她看着蕾莉亚娜的眼睛。 “他会的。”蕾莉亚娜坚定地说，又怜悯地望着扎斯瑞安……

在蕾莉亚娜的指示下，温妮用轻微的冰法术和治愈术移除了扎斯瑞安的痛苦。那是当初斯科奇(Sketch)用了好一会儿才摸索出的方法……可怜的塞弗林(Severin)…… 扎斯瑞安在地上又坐了片刻，才恢复了精神。抬头看着围住他的众人，和蹲在他身边，面无表情的泽弗兰(Zevran)…… “我不能按你说的做，灵体。我已经老得无法……去理解怜悯。”他看着森林女士，疲惫地说。“我看到我的孩子，我的同胞，他们的脸。我……我不能这么做。” “不，怜悯仍然在你的心中。”蕾莉亚娜柔声接道，单膝跪在他的面前。 扎斯瑞安不解地看着她…… “你拯救了拉娜雅(Lanaya)，难道不是吗？她从你的眼里看到了怜悯，当你看到她的时候。” “而且你还让她成为首席，她不是达利西。”莫瑞甘生硬地说，只是在陈述事实。 扎斯瑞安低下头，茫然地思索着…… “也许我已经……活得太久。”他轻轻摇了摇头，喃���地嘟囔着……“这仇恨对我来说就像一个古老的，多节的根……已经消耗了我的灵魂。” 扎斯瑞安努力着想要站起来，森林女士安抚下开始躁动的狼人们。 泽弗兰和蕾莉亚娜望了望对方，上前扶起他。 扎斯瑞安冲他们点点头致谢，又看着森林女士……“那么你呢，灵体？你也像我一样，被诅咒束缚。你是否对终结感到恐惧？” 大家惊讶地看着森林女士，为他话里的含义感到难过…… “你是我的创造者，扎斯瑞安。你给了我未曾有过的形态和意识。让我体会了痛苦和爱，希望和恐惧，所有这些生命中的喜悦。”森林女士微笑着，“然而这所有的一切中，我所希望的仅仅是死亡。我乞求你，创造者……终结我，‘我们’乞求你，展现你的怜悯。” 扎斯瑞安注视着她，轻轻点了点头。“你让我感到羞愧，灵体。我是……一个活得太久的老人，超过了我应有的时间。” “那么你愿意？你愿意终结诅咒？”森林女士平和的声音中流露出喜悦。 “是的，我想是时候了。”扎斯瑞安疲惫地笑笑，“但我请求你给我一些时间。而你也或许也想和……他们告别。”他抬手示意了一下狼人们，森林女士冲他点点头。

房间里的狼人们齐声发出悲伤的嚎叫，其他狼人们渐渐从别处赶来和他们的女士告别。 艾瑞卡感觉到了和他们一样的悲伤，伏在阿历斯特(Alistair)怀中无法遏制地哭泣着。扎斯瑞安和其他人聚到了她的身边，蕾莉亚娜轻轻抚摸着她。 “我……想请你帮我最后一个忙，守望者。”扎斯瑞安蹲在她身前低声说。 蕾莉亚娜抬手制止了阿历斯特到嘴边的讽刺，帮着艾瑞卡坐起身面对他。 “我……尽量。”艾瑞卡抽抽啼啼地说。 扎斯瑞安摘下了手上一枚雕刻着图案的木戒指递给艾瑞卡，“请帮我把它交给拉娜雅。并且告诉她：她会成为一个比我了不起的守护者(keeper)。” “我一定会的。”艾瑞卡对他点点头，但是她身上没有地方收藏那枚戒指，便将它交给了蕾莉亚娜。 “我们会的，守护者。”蕾莉亚娜接过戒指，小心地收进了自己的腰包里。 “谢谢……”扎斯瑞安对她们平和地笑笑，“我希望你接受我的祝福，希望你寻求到你的正义。”他看着艾瑞卡。 “Ma serannas，守护者。”艾瑞卡用精灵语向他道谢。 “Dareth shiral，da'len。愿我们的神，和你们的神都向你微笑。”扎斯瑞安点点头，起身走到泽弗兰身边，请他到一边说话。 “我不知道你还会精灵语。”阿历斯特惊讶地看着艾瑞卡。 “我有两个好���师……”艾瑞卡虚弱地笑笑，抬头看看莫瑞甘，又望着蕾莉亚娜…… “而且如果你肯跪下来求我，我也会教你几句。”莫瑞甘得意地昂着头，用眼角藐视着阿历斯特。 阿历斯特厌恶地皱着鼻子，“除非我疯了。” “哦～对我那会是个绝好的消息。”莫瑞甘笑着说，大家被她逗乐了。 艾瑞卡趴在蕾莉亚娜怀里，感受着充斥她整颗心脏的悲伤……

森林女士和狼人们一一告别，又走到了他们身边，艾瑞卡撑起身体，望着她的眼睛…… “谢谢你们，凡人……”森林女士冲大家点点头，蹲在艾瑞卡面前，一只手轻托着她脸，冲她露出温柔的微笑。 艾瑞卡流着泪，感觉到喜悦渐渐驱散她心中的悲伤。

森林女士起身走到房间的平台上，扎斯瑞安也拿着法杖走到了她对面，狼人们上前簇拥着他们。 “让我们……让我们结束这一切。”扎斯瑞安看着她的眼睛说，森林女士点了点头。 扎斯瑞安也对她点点头，将法杖重击在地面上，接着他的身体便颓然倒下。 森林女士的身体发出光芒，站在她身边的疾行者和守门者(Gatekeeper)轻轻扶着她的肩膀，狼人们为她发出悲泣。 那光芒渐渐覆盖整个房间，当它落在艾瑞卡身上时，她感到前所未有的轻松，就像某种解脱……

*   *   *

等艾瑞卡再次有了知觉，她感到了有人抱着她，将她轻轻平放下来，盖上毯子。那手臂并不强壮……甚至纤细。但有足够的力量支撑她的身体……她知道那是蕾莉亚娜。 接着她听到蕾莉亚娜离开她身边，然后是轻微的水声，似乎是涮洗毛巾的声音，而后面的声音肯定了她的猜想。 蕾莉亚娜又回到她的身边，哼着摇篮曲，轻轻抚摸她的脸颊……她的声音渐渐变低，最后成了哽咽…… 艾瑞卡努力睁开眼睛，想要告诉蕾莉亚娜她已经没事了……

蕾莉亚娜呆呆地看着她……她的眼睛有些红肿，她的神情麻木，但是她的眼睛里瞬间闪过一些复杂的东西…… “哦，你好，睡美人。”她笑了出来，尽可能轻松地说。 艾瑞卡腼腆地笑了，想要握住蕾莉亚娜的手，但她发现自己全身都不能动弹…… “你很好。”蕾莉亚娜看出她眼里的惊慌，急忙坐近了些，安抚下她。 “那只是魔法的效果，莫瑞甘和温妮怕你乱动再碰伤你自己。”她轻轻抚摸着艾瑞卡的脸。 艾瑞卡安下心来，��才去打量周围的环境…… 她们在一个很大的帐篷里，家具和物品是精灵风格的……她意识到自己已经回到了达利西营地。蕾莉亚娜也换上了轻便的衣服，不是她最后记忆中的皮甲。 “你睡了三天……”蕾莉亚娜的声音变调了……她伏在艾瑞卡身边，发出轻轻的抽泣声。艾瑞卡懊恼自己不能去拥抱她，也没办法说出安慰她的话。

“蕾莉亚娜，你在和谁说……噢！她醒了吗！”阿历斯特欣喜的声音从帐篷外传进来。蕾莉亚娜急忙起身，抬手擦去自己脸上的泪水。 “是的，但你现在还不能进来。”她装出轻松的语气向阿历斯特喊道。 “好的！我去告诉其他人。”阿历斯特的声音听起来已经渐渐跑出去一段距离。 “他一直守着你。呃……好吧，除了像现在这样的时候。”蕾莉亚娜对艾瑞卡笑道。 她的声音和表情都可爱极了……艾瑞卡只顾着欣赏她的样子，没有去想她的话是什么意思…… “考虑到……你曾经为我做的，这也算是报应吧。”蕾莉亚娜边说边从旁边拿来了一叠干净的衣服，在毯子的遮挡下帮艾瑞卡穿上。 艾瑞卡觉得血液都凝固了，羞得恨不得缩进毯子里……这就像在第一次在弗莱玛斯(Flemeth)的小屋里醒来那样！而且莫瑞甘可没有这样帮她穿衣服…… “我保证，我绝没有占你的便宜。”蕾莉亚娜看着她傻傻的表情，装出一副诚恳的样子。 ‘我不介意……你占我便宜……’艾瑞卡立刻在脑子里这样说，又为这个想法感到害羞……她还不懂什么是“占便宜”。 蕾莉亚娜帮艾瑞卡穿好了裤子，又把她搂起来，套上衬衫。她们不敢看对方的脸，同样觉得害羞和尴尬……

穿好衣服，蕾莉亚娜正要把艾瑞卡放回床上，莫瑞甘闯了进来…… “恶～”她缩着肩膀，看起来像是全身的鸡皮疙瘩都起来了一样。 “这是阿历斯特的恶作剧对吧？”莫瑞甘抬手挡住眼睛，不去看她俩。 蕾莉亚娜尴尬极了，差点抽回双手把艾瑞卡丢在床上……好在她还是硬着头皮，把她的身体轻轻放了下来。 “怎么了？”温妮跟在她后面，疑惑地看看莫瑞甘，又看看艾瑞卡和蕾莉亚娜……不解地眨眨眼睛。莫瑞甘没有回答，表情看起来很不舒服…… 蕾莉亚娜暗自懊恼：应该等她们来了再帮艾瑞卡穿衣服……为什么之前没想到！

温妮的魔法才刚刚移除，艾瑞卡就立刻想要坐起来。于是用没有受伤的右臂去支撑，却惊讶地发现自己的身体轻了很多…… “你或许会觉得有些怪怪的。”莫瑞甘看出了她的疑惑，“那只是龙血在让你变得更强大，你应该有经验才是。” “嗯。”艾瑞卡点点头……无论入盟(Joining)仪式还是阿佛纳斯(Avernus)的魔药，又或是弗莱玛斯(Flemeth)当初挽救她生命所用的方法——她后来知道是归功于龙血奇特的疗愈效果……都让她都觉得自己的身体有了明显的变化。 蕾莉亚娜拿来一杯水，艾瑞卡急忙接过，用它漱了漱口……她非常怀疑在昏迷的这几天里莫瑞甘又给她灌了些龙血。 “我一直想知道：为什么……弗莱玛斯会有这么多龙血？”温妮好奇地问。虽然看起来只是一只被雕刻成龙形，容量大约一品脱的水晶瓶，但里面装得绝对远超这个数字。 “做烹饪调料，当然是。比辣椒强多了。”莫瑞甘一副理所当然的态度，奇怪地看着她。 另外三人沉默地面面相觑…… “我……读过相关的文献……”温妮结结巴巴地说。 “我听说内瓦拉(Nevarra)的潘塔伽斯特(Pentaghast)家族有类似的东西……”蕾莉亚娜皱了皱眉头。

蕾莉亚娜喊进了早已等在帐篷外的几位男士，安拉夫(Anlaf)立刻冲了进来，扒在艾瑞卡的床边殷切地摇着尾巴，发出焦急的呜咽。艾瑞卡紧紧拥抱住他，他立刻快乐地舔着她的脸。 “啧啧……看看你，我的小女士……”泽弗兰跟在阿历斯特后面进了房间，一副大惊小怪的样子。“我见过许多女士刚睡醒的样子，包括一些让我后悔的……”他嘟囔出后一句……“但是你！绝对是我见过最美丽的一个！” “哼，阿谀奉承……”阿历斯特愤愤地咕哝着。 “你这么说是什么意思，我的好朋友阿历斯特？”泽弗兰瞪大了眼睛，“难道‘你不这样认为’？” “哦！我不是……我是说……他是对的。”阿历斯特窘迫地看着艾瑞卡，结结巴巴地向她解释着。艾瑞卡被他俩逗笑了。 “很高兴看到你这么快就醒了，Kadan。龙血的效果果然如同传说中一般不同凡响。”斯登(Sten)平静地冲艾瑞卡点点头，又审视地看着阿历斯特……阿历斯特被他看得有些不好意思，身体稍稍退后了一些。 “我已经怀疑了好一阵子。”斯登的视线离开了他，又看着艾瑞卡。“我的另一个Kadan让我代她向你问好。”他皱着眉头打量着帐篷内部……“显然达利西在规划他们的帐篷时没有考虑过会招待比他们更高大的种族……呃……这里实在太矮了。”他也是弓着背才挤进帐篷门的，但夏尔(Shale)可没有血肉之躯的柔韧性。 “我听见库纳利(Qunari)人在向它提到我！”她在帐篷外喊着。 “我也很想念夏尔。”艾瑞卡抬高了音量。 “不客气！”夏尔在外面回答道，“等你好了我们再研究一下龙皮凉鞋！” 艾瑞卡疑惑地眨眨眼睛，其他人都“噗哧”笑了出来。 “她扛回了龙的尸体。”蕾莉亚娜向她解释。 “而且瓦拉颂(Varathorn)大师已经鞣制了龙皮，你真应该立刻看看，简��不可思议！”泽弗兰双眼几乎在冒光，“简直像美女的……” “泽弗～”蕾莉亚娜拖长了音节，冲他危险地笑着……她知道他接下来会说什么，那太少儿不宜了…… “呃……我是说，像……小婴儿的……皮肤一样柔软。”泽弗兰改了口。 蕾莉亚娜满意地点点头。艾瑞卡皱着眉头，奇怪地看着他俩，对泽弗兰原来想说的话感到好奇……她暗自决定要找机会问个清楚。

大家告诉了艾瑞卡自她昏迷后发生的事情：随着扎斯瑞安和森林女士的自我牺牲，狼人们的诅咒都被解除，全部恢复了他们原本的样子，大部分是人类，还有几个是达利西。他们都和队伍一起返回了营地，向扎斯瑞安的族人们解释了诅咒的真相。那些人类和红崖(Redcliffe)来的精灵探险队一起在附近扎营，打算过几天跟着他们返回红崖。再过几天就是万灵节(All Soul's Day)了，他们希望可以留下来为森林女士哀悼。 泽弗兰告诉艾瑞卡，扎斯瑞安向他为之前的态度道歉，并且请泽弗兰向阿瑟斯(Athras)转达他的歉意，因为他曾经欺骗他说丹妮拉(Danyla)已经死了。他也从阿瑟斯那里听说泽弗兰出于怜悯而杀死丹妮拉的事情…… “阿瑟斯说即使我不杀她，她也会想办法了结自己……我让她避免了更多的痛苦。”泽弗兰伤心地说。 向艾瑞卡讲述完这几天的情况，他们又说了一下近期的安排：明天阿历斯特和斯登将陪同温妮去一趟邓瑞姆(Denerim)，为达利西们购买一些补给和药品，顺便向斯利姆(Slim)打听一下洛甘(Loghain)和豪尔(Howe)的动向。其他人会留在这里，陪着需要时间养伤的艾瑞卡。

当大家离开帐篷的时候，蕾莉亚娜看出阿历斯特有什么话想……私下告诉艾瑞卡。 “唔……我需要一些新鲜空气。”她假装轻松地对艾瑞卡说，“你知道我已经在帐篷里闷了快一整天了。阿历斯特，能不能请你照顾她一会儿。” “噢！当然，你放心吧。”阿历斯特高兴地瞪大了眼睛。 ‘不！’艾瑞卡在心里大喊，不想和她分开片刻……但蕾莉亚娜看起来显然不在乎她的意见，立刻快步离开了帐篷。 “你已经三天没吃东西了，你知道吗？饿不饿？”阿历斯特坐到床边，笑着问。 ‘我想一个人待着。’艾瑞卡想这么回答他…… “不，我很好，不需要任何东西……谢谢。”她冲阿历斯特笑笑，又躺回了被窝里。 “噢……”阿历斯特移开视线，不安地搓着手…… 艾瑞卡不知道接下来该怎么办，只能望着帐篷顶发呆。

过了一会儿，阿历斯特转身面对着她，蹙着眉头，像是有什么紧要的事情一般。但他���是欲言又止，那个样子让艾瑞卡觉得提心吊胆…… “你……记不记得……”片刻后阿历斯特终于开了口……“在你……我是说，我曾经说过……有重要的事情……重要的话需要对你说，非常重要。”他磕磕巴巴地挤出这些话。 艾瑞卡仔细回忆着……她受伤之后的一段记忆都很模糊，但她非常清楚地记得森林女士和扎斯瑞安，还有……蕾莉亚娜。 她记得自己明白的那些事情…… “不，对不起……”艾瑞卡难过地看着阿历斯特，她记得他们有一些谈话，但想不起来具体内容。 “噢……”阿历斯特显然有些失望，“我……理解，那时候你伤得太重了……”他声音破裂开，低下头难过地咬咬嘴唇。 “我没事了，阿历斯特。”艾瑞卡柔声安慰他，伸出右手握住他握在一起的双手。阿历斯特抬起头，对她露出一个放松的笑容。 “那么，你想告诉我什么？”艾瑞卡微笑着问。 阿历斯特不好意思地移开视线，又开始了新一轮的心理斗争。艾瑞卡轻轻拍拍他的手，把自己的手收回了毯子里。

“我……想说……”阿历斯特突然鼓起了勇气，注视着艾瑞卡。“我只是觉得……我所做的一切都只是抱怨，而对你来说，这也不是一段好过的时间。自从你加入灰色守望者(Grey Warden)……不，自从你……离开你的家之后，从来没有经历过任何美好的事情，没有感激或是祝贺。只是充斥着死亡、战斗和不幸。我想也许我能说些什么。告诉你能遇见你是多么珍贵和奇妙的事情，在这……”他的声音突然哽住……“黑暗中。” 阿历斯特说完，深情地看着艾瑞卡，等待着她的回应…… 艾瑞卡别开脑袋，紧紧纠着眉头，心脏抽搐着……她还从来没有精力好好回顾一下过这段时间的经历——从她个人的角度。原来有那么糟糕吗…… “我……我是不是说错什么了？”阿历斯特见她那个样子，又紧张了起来。坐到床边不知所措地看着艾瑞卡。 “不，你……没有错……”艾瑞卡说不下去了，转身把脸埋进枕头里，她的泪水又不争气地涌了出来……接着她开始痛哭。 “我……我很抱歉！”阿历斯特更慌了，抬着手不敢碰她的肩膀。

“出什么事了？”蕾莉亚娜正好进入帐篷，一副不明所以的样子。 “我……我不知道。”阿历斯特求助般地望着她。 蕾莉亚娜走到床边，轻轻抚摸艾瑞卡的头和后背，柔声安抚。但她没有回应，依然把脸埋在枕头里哭泣。 “我只是……想感谢她。”阿历斯特没有说出所有…… 蕾莉亚娜宽慰地拍拍他的手，“没关系，她只是有点儿……情绪化。” 阿历斯特这才稍稍回过神，急忙移到床边的椅子上，把床沿空出给蕾莉亚娜。 “没事了，小狗狗。”蕾莉亚娜安抚着艾瑞卡。 艾瑞卡努力控制着情绪……“我……好感动……”她抽抽啼啼地说，又哭了起来。 蕾莉亚娜“噗哧”笑了出来，回头看着还惊慌失措的阿历斯特。“她只是需要些时间……去适应。”她笑着说，没有表现出心里的难过…… 蕾莉亚娜听见了阿历斯特说的话，她也知道艾瑞卡为什么会伤心成这样。

*   *   *

“这太丢人了……”艾瑞卡趴在蕾莉亚娜的膝盖上，懊恼地嘟囔着。 “不，你只是有些悲伤。”蕾莉亚娜抚摸着她的头，安慰道。 “但我不想让他看到～”艾瑞卡的语气就像是在撒娇，翻身把脸藏到臂弯里。 “哦，我明白。”蕾莉亚娜被她那孩子气的样子逗乐了。 她们不约而同地陷入了沉默，享受着与对方相伴的时光……

过了好一会儿，蕾莉亚娜发出一声长长的叹息。 艾瑞卡坐起身，担忧地注视着她。“怎么了？” “哦，没事，我只是……”蕾莉亚娜看着她笑笑，又停了下来……艾瑞卡轻轻握住她的手，等待着她。 “我只是在想那些精灵遭遇了什么，而我……想起一首别人为我唱的歌，很多年以前。”她注视着艾瑞卡，神情间流露出了悲伤，“那是……在我的母亲去世的时候。” 艾瑞卡用右手支撑身体，想要再向她靠近些。蕾莉亚娜急忙按住她，依偎到她身边，支撑着她的身体。 “一位睿智的精灵女性安慰我，告诉我，我们不应该害怕死亡，或是恨它。死亡只是另一个开始。” 蕾莉亚娜轻轻托起艾瑞卡的脸，注视着她忧伤的眼眸，露出欣慰的笑容…… “总有一天我们都终将摆脱我们世俗的身体，让我们的精神自由飞翔。” 艾瑞卡回望着她的眼睛，思索着她的话。片刻后，她点点头，露出忧伤的笑容，接着把头靠在了蕾莉亚娜肩上。“你能为我唱那首歌吗？”她轻轻地问。 “当然。”蕾莉亚娜伸手搂住她的肩膀……

蕾莉亚娜吟唱一段空灵的旋律，接着唱出了精灵语的歌词： “hahren na melana sahlin，emma ir abelas，souver'inan isala hamin。” 她低下头，看着艾瑞卡…… “vhenan him dor'felas，in uthenera na revas。” 接着又是一段旋律，艾瑞卡撑起身体，着迷地注视着蕾莉亚娜……她不明白那些歌词的意思，但那是一首能够抚慰人心的歌。 “vir sulahn'nehn，vir dirthera，vir samahl la numin，vir 'lath sa'vunin'。” “vir sulahn'nehn……” 蕾莉亚娜和艾瑞卡惊讶地看着帐篷入口，有一个女人在帐篷外唱出了下一句。蕾莉亚娜跟上她，继续唱下去…… “vir dirthera，vir samahl la numin，vir 'lath sa'vunin'。” 唱完那首歌，拉娜雅掀开门帘，走进了帐篷，原来是她在与蕾莉亚娜和唱。 “我……没有想到，竟然有人类会唱这首歌。”她看着蕾莉亚娜，脸上露出复杂的微笑……

[actual-lich-queen]

The Queen of Cups Chapter 7:  Not for Ourselves Alone are We Born - Cicero

The companions make it to the Hinterlands and make contact with Mother Giselle. Things do not go well for Ayla and Solas develops a permanent tension headache. It's his own fault. No one should feel sorry for him.

Read Earlier Chapters on Ao3

They heard the fighting before they saw it. Leliana’s scouts had warned them that the fight between the templars and mages dominated the Hinterlands. As the companions crested the hill leading down to the Crossroads the battle raged on before them with the refugees scrambling to get out of the middle.

“People are dying, Seeker.” Varric was already fingering Bianca’s trigger.

“I can see that.” Cassandra’s face was as hard as the steel of her drawn blade.

“Who do we help?” Varric asked.

“The templars. Try to keep the mages from casting spells.” Cassandra answered.

“Are the mages unworthy of the Inquisition’s support?” Solas kept his voice calm even though he found himself resistant to Cassandra’s decision.

“I...suppose they are not.” Cassandra faltered, “Perhaps I spoke out of habit.”

“So the mages then?” Varric looked up from Bianca seeking clarification.

“It would make things difficult if the Inquisition decides to seek help from the templars closing the Breach.” Cassandra’s lips pressed into a thin line of annoyance.

“Assisting the templars would make it difficult to seek help from the mages.” Solas countered.

“Varric, what do you think?” Cassandra asked.

“You wanna know what I think? I think the longer we take deciding here, the more people are dead down there.” Varric said, frowning.

“We are trying to do something about that.” Cassandra bit back, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“By asking me questions?” Varric returned, “How does that help anyone?”

“Stop.” The order came as Cassandra was winding up for a response. She and Varric dropped their argument before it really got going. They turned to look at Ayla, her face was a mask. Her eyes were fixed on the horror unfolding below them.

“We side with the refugees.” Ayla unslung her bow and nocked an arrow. She was detached from her voice, it almost sounded like she had been made tranquil but for the firmness in it. Solas’s brow furrowed.

“Works for me.” Varric pulled a lever, triggering the unmistakable sound of an arrow rattling into the unusual barrel his crossbow sported. He found a vantage point and started taking shots at the combatants down below, mage and templar alike. At times, Varric was as much of a weapon as Bianca, willing to be used and aimed by someone else.

Ayla maneuvered to as spot further to the side so that they could cover more of the battlefield. Solas chose to position himself nearby. She was, after all, the reason he was here. Even if she still wasn’t talking to him.

His proximity to Ayla allowed him to observe her technique. It had changed since they had battled demons together. Every single arrow she fired struck ground, routing mages, templars, and even a few refugees into new directions. It was a soft hearted, but unsustainable strategy. Yet it underlined who Ayla was. No trained soldier like Cassandra, nor a hardened rogue like Varric. She was a flower seller from the streets of Denerim, someone who under normal circumstances had no place on the battlefield. Solas felt the familiar pang of guilt lance through his chest.

Eventually the inevitable happened, as it always does. Ayla fell a templar. They had been attacking an old woman, leg in a splint and leaning on a walking stick as she had tried to hobble away from the battle. In a moment the templar went from boldly attacking the refugee to a crumpled pile of meat and armor, an arrow buried up to it’s fletching in his eye. Ayla released a single, choked sob, so quiet Solas doubted he would have heard it from any further away.

It did not stop her. Nor did it deter her. Ayla made the same hard decision to end a life again when a mage sapping Cassandra’s energy got an arrow through their heart. This time Ayla softly whimpered. Solas admired the special kind of bravery it took to make the decision to take a life in battle and follow through, despite feeling the full weight of it.

The fighting died out, whatever remaining of the mages or templars running off. The refugees of the crossroads set about to right their camp with the weariness of people that had done this many times before. Solas leaned against his staff watching Ayla retrieve her arrows as they waited for Cassandra and Varric to rejoin them.

Her path was predictable. She started with the arrows furthest away from the templar, only hesitantly creeping nearer as needed. Solas knew the arrow buried in the templar’s eye would never return to Ayla’s quiver. He had noted she had a tendency to avoid templars when she could, the population dynamics of Haven often made this impossible. Here, where the corpse could not demand her attention, and with no doubt the guilt of the templar’s death weighing heavy on her heart, there was no need and no reason for her to face this templar.

But she did.

Ayla knelt on the ground by the templar. With as much reverence as possible, she removed the arrow from his eye and returned it to her quiver. Shaking hands closed the templar’s lids for the last time. She leaned close and was whispering. To the templar? The Maker? The Dalish Creators? Solas crept closer to hear her.

hahren na melana sahlin emma ir abelas souver'inan isala hamin vhenan him dor'felas in uthenera na revas

vir sulahn'nehn vir dirthera vir samahl la numin vir lath sa'vunin

He could just barely make out the tune, but the song was old. He had sung it himself. And now, countless years later, it was being sung by an elf-blood to a human templar upon their death.

“That song, it is the one the Dalish sing to those who have passed on, is it not?” Solas asked.

“Yes.” Ayla replied, not looking at him.

“Yet you sing it to a templar. He is no member of your mother's clan, or family for that matter.”

“Correct.”

“Then why sing it to him?”

“He passed on.” Ayla stood and continued collecting her arrows. Clearly she still wasn’t speaking to him. It should not matter. Ayla’s opinions about alienages should not matter. That their time on the road had not calmed her anger at him for his observations on city elves should not matter.

But he was finding her particular methods of ignoring him more vexing than outright silence. Her replies always satisfied the question yet evaded conversation. Gone were her insightful queries and rapt attention to his answers, replaced by austere politeness and emotional distance. It should have made things easier. He should not miss it.

Ayla had made it all the way over to the mage she had taken down and was repeating the same ritual she had with the templar. Whether because it was a mage or because it was the second time she had been confronted with someone she had killed, Ayla broke down. She was sobbing into the robes of the dead woman. Solas frowned.

“What’s wrong with Spoon?” Varric asked as he and Cassandra approached.

“I believe our Herald has just made her first kill.” Solas answered, resetting his face to neutral.

“Oh. Shit.” Varric was taken aback.

“How is that possible?” Cassandra’s brow knit in confusion, “I saw her on the battlefield at Haven. She is skilled with a bow.”

“Demons don’t leave bodies.” Varric replied, “And not every bow is a murder weapon. There are still decent people out there who use it as a tool to hunt.”

The trio stood in uncomfortable silence, digesting these new facts. Ayla’s crying had yet to abate.

“Someone should speak with her.” Solas observed, “I would offer, if I thought it would give her comfort.”

“Words do not come easily. I would not know how.” Cassandra looked to Varric.

“Oh no, Seeker. I’m no better at this than you are.” Varric held his hands up.

“But the way you write…” Cassandra started.

“You’ve read what I write. Hard people doing hard things.” Varric crossed his arms, “One of my books is called Hard in Hightown. Badass one-liners aren’t going to help here.”

Cassandra opened her mouth like she was about to argue, but closed it again. They returned to their awkward silence Each quietly hoping the situation would somehow resolve itself.

Their prayers were answered by a Revered Mother, who came to speak with Ayla. Whatever the Mother said seemed to be helping. All three companions visibly relaxed.

“Did I ever tell you how I hate to see humans cry?” Varric muttered.

“It is difficult to watch anyone cry.” Cassandra said.

“Yeah, but humans in particular turn into blubbery messes.” Varric teased, lightening the mood, “I think it has something to do with being so far away from the ground.”

“If your theory holds true, Qunari must be the most inelegant criers in all of Thedas.” Solas commented.

Varric snorted, barely containing his laughter.

“You know, I’ve never seen one of the big guys cry.” He said after recovering.

“Nor I.” Solas replied, “Although I now find myself curious as to what could cause such an event.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Kirkwall was crawling with them for six years and I never once saw any of them shed a tear.” Varric shrugged, “Maybe they should have. It would have made them appear more relatable. Less scary monsters.”

“I don’t see how that would have helped.” Cassandra said.

“You wouldn’t, would you.” Varric said, “You go in for the same frightening stoney front. Less emotion, more intimidation.”

“I know you see me that way, Varric, but I am not always so harsh.” Cassandra frowned.

“If that’s true, Seeker, I have yet to see it.” Varric crossed his arms.

Cassandra grunted. Ayla was walking towards them, Revered Mother in tow. Cassandra stood a little straighter.

“This is Mother Giselle.” Ayla introduced the Revered Mother, “She is willing to go to Haven to help Leliana gather what clerics we can in Val Royeaux.”

“They need to see the Inquisition, and the Herald, to have doubt sewn into their accusations and condemnations.” Mother Giselle explained, “They will feel safe enough in Val Royeaux to show their faces and see for themselves if Chancellor Roderick’s reports have weight.”

Solas looked to Ayla, curious about her reaction. Behind Mother Giselle’s Chantry robes and acts of charity lay a shrewd political mind. A mind that seemed set not only to put the Inquisition forward as the solution to the problem currently facing Thedas, but to maneuver Ayla to be positioned as the Inquisition's head. Whether Mother Giselle intended Ayla as a true leader or a figurehead to be manipulated remained to be seen. Ayla, for her part, was either unaware or unbothered by Mother Giselle’s agenda.

“Until then, I'd like to stay here and help the refugees.” Ayla said.

“It would not be so terrible an idea.” Cassandra replied, “The last of the fighting between the mages and templars appears concentrated around Redcliffe. I would like to know why that is so.”

“The last gasps of a dying war, Seeker.” Varric said, “Their leadership and most of their armies were taken out in Haven. All you see here are poor sods too stupid to stop fighting when there’s no one left to give the order.”

“So what? They’ll just keep fighting until everyone’s dead just because there’s no one to tell them to stop?” Ayla’s face twisted in a blend of confusion and disgust.

“Two factions whose members have been shaped into weapons by the same Chantry they have both rejected in order to fight each other?” Solas felt the sneer creep into his voice and pushed it back down, “That does seem the likely outcome.”

“Whatever you may think of them, they’re still people, Solas.” Ayla fixed him with a glare so icy he swore he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raising, “Maybe they just need an opportunity to remember that.”

“Let us hope you are right.” Solas acknowledged her point. How could so much anger be contained in such a small person?

“We are all optimistic this can come to an end without further bloodshed.” Mother Giselle interjected, “But it will take a leader, which is all the more sorrow for the loss of Divine Justinia. I hope to see the Inquisition fill the role while the Chantry cannot.”

“The Inquisition was formed to do what must be done.” Cassandra said, relieved that the conversation was moving elsewhere.

“That is good to hear.” Mother Giselle smiled, “Corporal Vale is leading the efforts here. If you wish to help the refugees, you may choose to start there.”

“Thank you again, Mother.” Ayla politely nodded.

“I hope to see you again in Haven. We can continue our other discussion then.” Mother Giselle nodded by way of farewell to the companions as she made her way to introduce herself to the Inquisition scouts preparing the return caravan.

The conditions at the Crossroads camp steadily improved as the companions put their talents to use for the refugees. Solas couldn’t help but notice Ayla using the camp to avoid him further. She was off hunting with Varric, or searching caches with Cassandra, the only time he saw her was when she visited with the injured as he had been spending his time plying his own meager healing talents in the makeshift field hospital. Her visits seldom involved speaking to him.

He continued to try not caring. Which admittedly had been easier when Varric had been around for a hand of Diamondback, but Cassandra and Varric had left to deal with the bandits on the East road. Solas turned his attentions to procuring more information on the state of the Veil and observing modern society.

The people of the Crossroads were more communal than he had expected of a human-dominated society. They shared what they had and worked tirelessly to help each other keep their heads afloat. Even the divide between the humans and the elves was not so steep as he had expected to find. Perhaps what he had heard about Ferelden being more forward thinking than most of Thedas had been true. Admirable, but not truly much. Inequalities still existed likely driven by the brutish nature of humans brought on by their short life-spans. A trait now shared by the elves. His heart ached for the passing of the elvhen. There was nothing he could do for them now.

The Veil, on the other hand, was not currently beyond his help. It was stronger in the Hinterlands than it was in Haven. He could feel spots here, more anchored than the rest as the Fade shifted and warped under the influence of the Breach. His investigations in his dreams had lead him to the conclusion that something was working, however weakly, to strengthen the Veil. Whatever it was though, the spirits of the Fade could not recreate it in any form for study. It was logical that a device meant to keep the waking world and Fade separate would be difficult for the Fade to replicate. Logical but frustrating.

He had to find a way to excuse himself to search without rousing suspicion. Or being left behind whenever Ayla and the rest decided to return to Haven. His priority was still the anchor and retrieving his orb.

Solas let out a long, slow, sigh.

There must be some way approach the devices with Ayla that would procure her assistance.

“Solas?”

“Ayla.” Solas didn’t try to hide his surprise, “I was unaware we were back on speaking terms.”

“I…” She paused, a look of regret flashing across her face, “I need a favor.”

“From me?”

“One of the women has trouble breathing, her son used to make a potion that helps, but he’s apparently run off to join that cult we keep hearing about.”

“I am sorry, Ayla, but my skills do not extend further than the basics of healing.”

“No, I know that. You said that when Corporal Vale mentioned they needed a healer.”

“I was unaware you were listening.”

“Solas...please.” She wavered between exasperation and actual pleading, clearly whatever it was she was trying to get at was important to her.

“What is it you are asking?” He took pity and softened, opening his arms and relaxing his stance.

“I was hoping you would travel with me to find the son. His father said to ask for the potion. But with the cult...I don’t know enough about medicinal herbs to know if it would be the right potion. And they worship the rifts. At least according to rumor. I’ve got this mark that closes rifts...so…going by myself...didn’t seem...like a good idea...” She trailed off awkwardly.

“A wise conjecture.” He nodded.

“Then, you’ll help me?”

“I will help you. When did you plan to leave?”

“Now?”

“Give me a moment to gather a few things.”

“Of course.” Ayla relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief.

[jcinktinder]

vir sulahn'nehn, vir dirthera, vir samahl la numin, vir lath sa'vunin

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[jillian-613]

In Uthenera

hahren na melana sahlin emma ir abelas souver'inan isala hamin vhenan him dor'felas in uthenera na revas vir sulahn'nehn vir dirthera vir samahl la numin vir 'lath sa'vunin'