#vista wardens

[sweaterregrets]

march on little sister 🫡

[demifiendrsa]

Thedas Calls - Dragon Age Day (2023)

A full reveal for Dragon Age: Dreadwolf is scheduled for summer 2024.

Latest details

Thedas Calls

You’ve visited the lands of Thedas thrice before in our games and many more times in comics, books, art, and short stories. This time, you’ll be venturing to places unseen and returning to places from long ago.

To celebrate Dragon Age Day, we wanted to show you some of those sights.

We stand on the precipice of change. This is a world brimming with stories and characters waiting to meet you. The fate of this world teeters on the edge of a knife. In past games, you only got to see a slice of the world. In Origins, it was Ferelden—a land ravaged by war and Dark Spawn. In II, it was Kirkwall and its locales—festering with corruption and a dark underworld. And in Inquisition, you ventured across much of Orlais—facing down political intrigue as often as combat.

This time, however, much more of Thedas is yours to see. The desolate, beautiful badlands of the Anderfels with curtains of distant mountainous spires. The twisting canals and gleaming towers of Antiva, where Crows may lurk in any shadow. The turquoise seas of Rivain with its rushes of greenery and hardy sea-faring people. And of course, there’s more.

We felt this was best for the tale we wanted to tell this time and we hope you enjoy it as much as we have! It’s allowed us to create many more locations than past games, including both some you’ve longed to go to…and some you’ve never heard of before!

The Places You’ll Go

To help capture the wonders of Thedas, we partnered with three wonderful artists from our exceptionally talented community and gave them an early look at what you’ve now seen. We’ve always been so fortunate to have such an incredibly skilled community of artists, and getting to work with these three was a true joy!

We asked each of them to create a vista of one of the three regions in the video based on their interpretation of it in their own unique styles. Please enjoy their wonderful work, and be sure to send them some love when you check out their personal channels for more of their art!

—“Rivain” by Gabriela Isache

Upon eastern shores and sunkissed sands, the Lords of Fortune no longer hold dominion over the coasts of Rivain—not when dragons are growing bolder and laying waste to their ships.

—“Antiva” by Nipuni

Ever the pinnacle of mystery and intrigue, the Crows watch from the deep shadows of beautiful Antiva. Something, however, is amiss, and they are set on uncovering the source.

—“Anderfels” by Solelle

To the far west, three Grey Wardens patrol the Anderfels. Tremors have been creating disturbances of late. Their cause is unknown. Upon the distant horizon, a storm of ominous intent brews and darkens the skies.

[victoriadallonfan]

- Pitch 5.3

This sequence does a lot to really put things in perspective for Victoria in the early phase of Ward

1. It shows how eager she is to grasp to anything reminding her of the “good old days” where she had some measure of innocence and the belief that she had a bright future, trying to preserve them with care and affection as much as possible, even though they aren’t 1:1 the same. Because if she can preserve SOME good in her life, she can remain “whole”.

2. It shows how directly opposite this makes her in comparison to Carol, who removes any reminder of the better days in favor of… nothing. It had just become an empty room that was just THERE now, her hopes and dreams for the future of her children gone. However, rather tellingly, she doesn’t send any of these items to Victoria within the Asylum, despite her daughter clearly wanting them.

3. It expands on New Wave’s station in Brockton Bay, financially. Manpower is mentioned as spoiling Victoria with gifts, juxtaposed with Victoria being excited about earning 2k dollars around the time she was 17 (for reference, had I not paid for EMT/College courses, I would have made nearly 4k when I was 18, in a year or so working at a movie theatre).

What makes this so interesting that the last we hear about Manpower, he has no job, in fact it’s implied that the reason New Wave struggled so much financially (see: Arc 2) was because Carol was the one whom supported both families with her job + donations made by the city to their team.

3.5. When this is juxtaposed to Taylor earning that same amount of money in one meeting with the Undersiders, it really puts into perspective that there does seem to be a huge wealth disparity between indie heroes and supervillains, or at the very least, between the donations New Wave accrued compared to the protection racket the Undersiders enforced + all the other payments made to them by Coil, and how that might further explain the growth of villainy in Earth Bet pre-GM.

4. Victoria planning on leaving the city to live with Dean (or as she put it, follow him), is interesting because there’s never really another character in the entire series that makes Victoria decide to alter her entire life around in order stay by their side. And yes, she’s 17, she’s in love, a lot of people can chalk it up to her simply not knowing better. Maybe.

But I think this is actually more of the peak of Victoria’s flaw in Ward, where she puts people onto pedestals and - in a sense - worships them. Vista, Yamada, Sveta, and Miss Militia are all characters that she highlights as the ideal heroes whom she aspires to be like, and each one fails in her eyes over the story to different degrees (and different degrees of fairness): Sveta is willing to kill people while under the Goddess influence (something that not even Vic was willing to do), Yamada broke her trust and detached from her nearly entirely, Miss Militia didn’t really give a shit when Victoria saved her Wardens from being murdered and stopped WW3, and Vista has murdered and allowed awful people to go free ala Defiant (it’s very telling that Sveta and Vista were ones that Victoria was willing to overlook, because they are tied into #1 point above, whereas Yamada’s breach of trust could not be salvaged).

Dean was all of them, but ramped up to 10. He was her soulmate. He was everything she wanted in a hero.

He died. And all she has are remnants and pieces that can never really live up to the hype in her mind. Not even Dean himself.

[daybreakrising]

@dhahabibi: “Do you ever miss the sun?” said Kaveh, to a particular warden as they look out into the dark sea from the other side of the glass in the meropide.

This is one of his favourite places in the Fortress. There's a peacefulness to the vista beyond; the fronds of seaweed idly drifting in the tides, the lazy rippling of schools of fish swimming by. But it's also a warning - there's no denying the power of the ocean down here, the frightening vastness of its depths. This glass may hold it at bay, but with a single crack, a chip in the armour, the full wrath of the sea would be upon them and they would be powerless against it.

Do you ever miss the sun?

He turns his attention to the man at his side, taking in the head of golden hair, the vibrant clothes. Such a contrast to himself, with his monochromatic tones. Kaveh stands out amongst staff and inmates alike down here. He brings light and colour to a naturally dreary place, like a beacon calling home lost sailors.

"You've experienced Fontaine's weather often enough, surely?" The response is uttered with a playful quirk of the lips, not quite a full smile, but certainly half of one. "We don't get much sun to miss."

He shifts his weight, just enough so that the gap between them closes a little; his shoulder lightly bumps Kaveh's for a split second. Were they alone, he wouldn't hesitate to lay a hand at the base of his neck, his spine; anywhere, really. There's a magnetic force to the architect that almost compels him to touch. But he is ever mindful of the eyes that are always upon him; upon them.

"I think I've come to prefer it down here." He continues, an almost content look crossing his face. "Besides, it's hard to miss something you've hardly experienced for over a decade. I've almost forgotten what the sun feels like." And why would I miss the sun when an echo of it stands beside me?

[shakertwelve]

“I want to make a transaction,” I said.

Whatever.

“What’s the transaction?” the one with the beard and brown hair asked.  He stood from his cot, adjusting his glasses.

I didn’t answer right away.

The two of them were Orchard.  Ex-Boston.  Apparently people Ashley had crossed paths with, in a former life.  Slave peddlers who used their individual powers to alter slaves in mind and body, to fit custom orders.  Vista had said the Wardens and Foresight had been successful in picking them up.

don't fucking tell me victoria is gonna turn out to be justified in this. after everything?

[crackinglamb]

WIP Wednesday Whenever

Tagged by @noire-pandora, thank you! 💕

Tagging @mogwaei, @bdafic, @shretl, @lilbittymonster, @ir0n-angel and @fiadhaisteach. No pressure!

I've reached the penultimate arc of WG, y'all. I'm both excited and overwhelmed to finally get to this point in the writing. From the very earliest parts of the draft (now going on two years old, holy crap), I knew I wanted the main storyline to end this way. Now all I have to do is not fall apart in the middle of it.

Imogen has reached the Western Approach...

(Under a cut for mention of dead bodies and Blight related existential dread. I've been told this scene is very evocative.)

---

In the distance the heat made the black patches shimmer and waver, but she could still find the places where the dead lay, desiccated into grotesque postures where they'd fallen. Their armor and weapons were as shiny and sharp as the day they died, nearly a thousand years ago. She remembered reading somewhere that the Second Blight had so thoroughly ravaged the Approach that the dead didn't even decompose, because nothing survived, not even bacteria. It was why this region was now a desert, in fact, although she had other theories on that, considering the rest of Thedas seemed to bounce back well enough from the Blights.

Mythal killed a Titan, she thought. Was this where it was when it lived? Is this why they call it the Abyss? The Void? For sure no one knows what lies at the bottom of this trench other than darkspawn.

She couldn't look away from the scene in front of her. No carrion birds flew overhead, nothing moved, it was silent enough to hear the sibilant whisper of sand on sand. There wasn't even a smell. Or at least, there wasn't the smell she would expect from such a battlefield. The back of her throat closed up, reminding her of how the air tasted and felt in the future Redcliffe. She'd thought then that it was because of the red lyrium. But no, it was the Blight that made each breath itch in her lungs.

The others caught up and Stroud dismounted next to her, looking at the other side of the canyon, his expression both bleak and knowing. He glanced at her in the saddle for a moment before his eyes returned inexorably to the vista. “You have the look of one who has never seen such a thing, Inquisitor.”

“I...haven't. There's really no way to prepare for it. Knowing isn't the same as seeing.”

“I suppose that is true.” His lilting voice seemed out of place, too gentle and soft for such a grisly location. “It is little comfort to know that this is victory.”

“Yeah...”

“Come, Inquisitor, let us make sure this ritual site is as empty as it should be, and then we can leave this place.”

Imogen watched him turn away from the view as if he was struggling to do it. She wondered how the physical presence of so much Blight affected him, a Warden who'd served long enough that his Calling could have been real. She turned Squirrel away and her gaze landed on Hawke, watching them from the meager shade of the tall stone columns that marked the site. Elly's eyes were sympathetic when they met hers as she dismounted.

“You all right, Genny?”

“Yeah, just...a little overwhelmed.”

“C'mon, the sooner we check this out, the sooner we can leave.”

“That's what Stroud said too.”

Hawke scoffed. “At last we agree on something.”

The trio walked along the bridge that suspended the ritual tower over the edge of the Reach. The site stood on a spur of rock that seemed to simply hang in the air. Imogen was sure that was an illusion, though. The ground itself was simply so saturated with the Blight that it absorbed all the light that shone on it. There was a lingering feeling of wrongness about the place, but it was empty and sand-swept. There was no blood, no demons, no Venatori. As she'd hoped.

Hawke shuddered. “This place is fucking awful.”

[moonlight-1108]

Es interesante ver la cantidad de Headcanons que tienen en cuanto a la vista de Warden…y me encantan!

It's interesting to see how many Headcanons they have regarding Warden's vision…and I love them!

i heard from m,y friend that someone headcanon Warden as colorblind or smth, the glasses he wears are to help him see normal colors

[generalb]

Current Selesnya Tokens set up

Commander: Katilda, Dawnhart Prime

8 forest

10 plains

Blossoming sands

Sejiri steppe

Minas tirith

Boulderloft pathway

Botanical plaza

Graypelt refuge

Canopy vista

Mosswort bridge

Selesnya sanctuary

Razorverge thicket

Path of ancestry

Mirrorpool

Champion of lambholt

Coppercoat vanguard

Thalia’s lieutenant

Jasmine boreal of the seven

Mentor of the meek

Prava of the steel legion

Kyler, sigardian emissary

Keeper of the accord

Wilt-leaf liege

Bess, soul nourisher

Rosie cotton of south lane

Hamza, guardian of arashin

Leinore, autumn sovereign

Mangara, the diplomat

Mikaeus, the lunarch

Torens, fist of the angels

Abzan falconer

Hamlet vanguard

Thraben doomsayer

Serra’s emissary

Lossarnach captain

King Darien XLVIII

Queen allenal of ruadach

Ojer taq, deepest foundation

Soul warden

Shalai voice of plenty

Burnished hart

Sakura-tribe elder

Hanweir militia captain

Avacyn’s pilgrim

Devout chaplain

Arcane signet

Defense of the heart

Horn of gondor

Marble diamond

Loran’s escape

Soul snare

March of the multitudes

Laid to rest

Paladin class

Season of growth

Leyline of abundance

Doubling season

Sol ring

Wilt

Environmental sciences

Traveler’s amulet

Sundering growth

Cosmic rebirth

Farseek

Selesnya cluestone

Season of renewal

Tamiyo’s safekeeping

Animist’s might

Master chef

Swiftfoot boots

Make a stand

Wrath of god

Worldly tutor

Garruk’s uprising

Hardened scales

Enlightened tutor

Harrow

Planar disruption

Cathar’s call

Halo fountain

Glorious anthem

Marshal’s anthem

Together forever

[facultytick]

Teaching Faculty Jobs 08 December 2022 Announcement & Interview Notification By Faculty Tick

Dr. B.R. Ambedkar University Delhi Applications are invited from the eligible candidates suitable for empanelment for Guest Faculty in School of School of Cultural...

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Guest Faculty post

National Institute of Technology Warangal Applications are invited for Ad-hoc Faculty positions purely on temporary basis in the Department of Electrical Engineering

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Ad-Hoc Faculty Positions

Visvesvaraya National Institute of Technology invites eligible candidates for appearing in Walk in interview for the following Adhoc Assistant Professor posts in ECE

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Adhoc Assistant Professor post

Shyam Lal College (University of Delhi) invited Online applications from eligible candidate for teaching posts of Assistant Professor Recruitment

Online applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Assistant Professor post

Central University of Tamil Nadu invites eligible candidates for appearing in Walk in interview for the following Guest Faculty posts in English

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Guest Faculty post

Vista International School invites eligible candidates for appearing in Walk in interview for the following Principal/ Vice Principal/ Teacher and Various Non-Teaching posts

Principal/ Vice Principal/ Academic Head / Academic Co-ordinator/Teacher/ Admin Manager/ IT - System Admin/ Graphic Designer/ Content Writer / Activity Teachers/ Librarian Primary

Tata Institute of Social Sciences School of Development Studies invites application for one post of Associate Professor to be filled on contract basis

Online applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Associate Professor post

L. N. Mishra College of Business Management Applications are invited from eligible candidates for the following post of Director and Assistant Professor Recruitment

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Director and Assistant Professor post.

Poornima University invited applications from eligible candidate for teaching posts of Assistant Professors on full time / part time / visiting basis

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Assistant Professor post

Jagran Education Foundation Applications are invited from eligible candidates for the following post of Principal (CBSE) and Teaching Faculty Recruitment

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Principal /Adjunct Professor / Associate Professor / Assistant Professor post.

Sankara College of Science and Commerce Applications are invited from eligible candidates for the following post of Dean, Director, HOD, Teaching Faculty and Non...

Director / Dean / HOD / Controller of Examinations/ Assistant Controller of Examinations/ Associate Professors/ Assistant Professors/ Hostel Warden / Office Assistant

Eternal University Applications are invited from eligible candidates for the following post of Teaching Faculty Recruitment

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Assistant Professors / Associate Professor post

Sparsh Global Business School Applications are invited from eligible candidates for the following post of Teaching Faculty, Leadership and Various Non Teaching Positions Recruitment

Professor of Practice/ Professor/ Associate Professor/ Assistant Professor/ Manager - Facilities/ Executive Assistant / Executive / Coordinator / Accounts Assistant/ Librarian / Admission Regional Manager / Admission Counselor / Registrar/CAO / CEO - Incubation Centre / Research Associate / Teaching Assistant

Dhanalakshmi Srinivasan Institute of Medical Sciences and Hospital Applications are invited from eligible candidates for the following post of Teaching Faculty Recruitment

Vacancy for the Post of Professor | Associate Professor | Assistant Professor | Senior Resident | Junior Resident

Sreepathy Institute of Management and Technology invited applications from eligible candidate for teaching posts of Assistant Professor

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Assistant Professor post

Xavier Institute of Social Service (XISS) invited Online applications from eligible candidate for teaching posts of Assistant Professor

Online applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Assistant Professor post

GSSS Institute of Engineering & Technology for Women Applications are invited from eligible candidates with necessary academic experience for the following Teaching Faculty Post

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Associate Professor/ Assistant Professor post

G H Raisoni College of Arts, Commerce & Science Applications are invited from eligible candidates for the following post of Principal, Teaching Faculty and...

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Principal / Assistant Professor / Librarian / Physical Director post

Gurukrupa Institute of Pharmacy Applications are invited from eligible candidates for the following post of Principal and Teaching Faculty Recruitment

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Principal / Professor/ Associate Professor/ Assistant Professor/ Lecturer post

Aakash College of Education Applications are invited from eligible candidates for the following post of Assistant Professor and Non Teaching Recruitment

Vacancy for the Post of Assistant Professor /Office Assistant cum Computer Operator/ Store Keeper/ Lab Assistant/ Lab Attendant/Helpers

G H Raisoni Junior College Applications are invited from eligible candidates for the following post of Assistant Teacher Recruitment

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Assistant Teacher post

Mandsaur University invites eligible candidates for appearing in Walk in interview for the following Teaching Faculty posts

Applications are invited for faculty positions from eligible candidates at the level of Professor/ Associate Professor /Assistant Professor

Nyruthi Arts and Science College invited Applications from eligible candidates for the following post of Vice Principal, Assistant Professor and Non Teaching Positions Recruitment

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Vice Principal / Assistant Professor / Physical Education Teacher/ Warden / Civil Supervisor post

Sri Vijay Vidyalaya Matric Higher Secondary School invited Applications from eligible candidates for the following post of Teachers Recruitment

Applications are invited from excellent academic record and relevant work experience for recruitment to the Teacher post

[sweaterregrets]

V IS FOR VICTORY

[forbiddenwestern]

Miriam Vista Points: Scalding Spear

“Congratulations. You've reached the Southwestern Solar stop of our Vista Point Tour, brought to you by Miriam Technologies and the Coalition for Environmental Reclamation.

With innovation comes challenge, and for all our good intentions, we can sometimes cause harm without meaning to. Solar facilities like this one have helped combat climate change by generating clean energy, but their boilers have proved dangerous to birds, insects and bats. That's why Miriam Technologies' Warden drones are designed to monitor local wildlife, from the largest avians to the tiniest grubs, tracking any change in population. That way, we can help ensure that good intentions always produce good results.”

[desbravandookp]

Lista de Avatares no KaizokuProject

Total de avatares: 175

A

Ain

Alvida

Aokiji (Kuzan)

Aramaki

Arlong

Avalo Pizarro

B

Baby 5

Baccarat

Bartolomeo

Basil Hawkins

Bastille

Bellamy

Benn Beckman

Bepo

Blueno

Borsalino Kizaru

Boa Hancock

Bon Clay

Brook

Buggy

Buffalo

C

Caesar Clown

Calgara

Capone Bege

Carrot

Caribou

Cavendish

Charlotte Chiffon

Charlotte Cracker

Charlotte Daifuku

Charlotte Katakuri

Charlotte Linlin (Big Mom)

Charlotte Oven

Charlotte Perospero

Charlotte Praline

Charlotte Pudding

Charlotte Smoothie

Charlotte Snack

Coby

Crocodile

D

Dellinger

Denjiro (Kyoshiro)

Diamante

Doc Q

Don Krieg

Don Chinjao

Donquixote Rosinante (Corazon)

Donquixote Doflamingo

Douglas Bullet

Dracule Mihawk

E

Edward Newgate (Barba Branca)

Enel

Eustass D. Kid

F

Fisher Tiger

Franky

Fujitora

Fukuro

Fullbody

G

Gecko Moria

Gild Tesoro

Gladius

Gol D. Roger

H

Hachi

Hina

Hody Jones

I

Inazuma

Inuarashi

Ivankov

Izo

J

Jack

Jabra

Jesus Burgess

Jewelry Bonney

Jinbe

Jozu

K

Kaidou

Kalifa

Kaku

Killer

Kanjuro

Karu

Keimi

Koala

Kuma

Kumadori

Kin'emon

Kozuki Toki

Kozuki Oden

Kozuki Hiyori

Kyros

L

Laboon

Laffitte

Lao G

Leo

Lindbergh

Lucky Roo

Lucy (adm meteu essa)

M

Magellan

Marco

Marshall D. Teach (Barba Negra)

Miss Valentine

Momonga

Momonosuke

Monet

Monkey D. Dragon

Monkey D. Garp

Monkey D. Luffy

Montblanc Norland

N

Nami

Nekomamushi

Nico Robin

Nojiko

P

Pandaman

Pica

Pedro

Pekoms

Perona

Portgas D. Ace

O

Oars Jr.

O-Tama

Q

Queen

R

Raizou

Rebecca

Rorona Zoro

Rob Lucci

Ryuma

S

Sabo

Sadie

Sakazuki Akainu

San Juan Wolf

Scratchmen Apoo

Sengoku

Señior Pink

Sentomaru

Shakuyaku

Shanks

Shiki

Shiliew

Shirahoshi

Silvers Rayleigh

Smoker

Sobamask (adm meteu essa)

Sogeking (sim, adm também meteu essa)

Spandam

Squard

Stussy

Sugar

Surume

T

Tashigi

Thatch

Tony Tony Chopper

Trafalgar D. Law

U

Ulti

Urouge

Usopp

Uta

V

Van Augur

Vasco Shot

Vergo

Vista

Vivi

Vinsmoke Ichiji

Vinsmoke Judge

Vinsmoke Niji

Vinsmoke Reiju

Vinsmoke Sanji

Vinsmoke Sora

Vinsmoke Yonji

W

Warden Hannyabal

Whitey Bay

X

X Drake

Y

Yamato

Z

Zeff

Zephyr (Almirante Z)

[moonlit-grove]

The Sylvari Story, Oasis’s Version

I don’t like how involved Caithe is with the sylvari personal story compared to the other races’ “mentors” and how uninvolved the luminaries are. Here’s my fix. Note that a whole lot of it plays out pretty similarly, I’m just altering Caithe’s and the luminaries’ involvement a bit. Also something I talked about with my friends that could make Caithe's "the egg is my wyld hunt" less aggravating.

The Tutorial

You become aware in the Dream, you hear someone shouting “Sapling!” before your eyes focus. When they do, you see your luminary. They’re calling for you- Malomedies is leaning on a staff. They call for you, waving you close to speak with them. Something is wrong, they say. The Mother told them to wake a specific sapling- you- to help from inside. They explain that something is attacking the Dream, you fight odd creatures until you get to the Shadow of the Dragon.

Caithe is there, but she is not fighting it. She greets your luminary, the dialogue between them in the background as you fight more of the creatures. She explains that Mother senses something nearby is the source of the problems. Next to you, the Shadow moves. Your luminary and Caithe shout for you to move. Caithe becomes ‘solid’ and pushes you out of the way.

You fight the Shadow. Once defeated, Caithe and your Luminary tell you that they’ll be waiting when you wake to the outside. Serimon greets you when you wake. You ask where your luminary and Caithe are. He explains that your luminary is in a lesson and Caithe is recovering. They’ll meet with you when they’re done and she’s stronger.

The Green Knight

You’re urged back to the Grove, where you walk to Dreamer’s Terrace. Your luminary is there, they ask to speak with you. Dagdar runs up, begs you to help. the initial instance plays out practically the same, Caithe just is not there until after you fight Bercilak. She asks what was going on, who that Knight who just left was. You explain, your luminary notices the connection between the Knight and your Dream. You’re told about Gairwen, you go off to help her.

Help her, she tells you to try to find Occam. The next instance starts a little bit away from his house, Caithe is there. She’s genuinely surprised to see you, asks what you’re doing. She smiles, she knew her hunch was right. She was going to speak with Occam to ask if he’d crafted any armor recently. She says that he’s missing, and asks you to search. She’ll guard.

Courtiers attack, you get a choice. If you help one, she goes to help the other. If you go get Occam, she hands you a trap seed and tells you how to use it. “Set the trap so you can’t be followed,” she says. If you choose Gairwen, she hands you a turret seed, she has a feeling you’ll need it. She’ll meet you at Mabon Market when all is said and done.

After you fight Bercilak, she watches, wary. She’s not sure, but she trusts your ability. She suggests speaking with the Mother.

The White Stag

You receive a letter from your luminary. They explain that they’d like to meet with you, but there is something you must do first. They explain about the stag, they don���t realize you dreamed of it just yet. They tell you to track it and bring it back to the Grove. You track it, meet Gavin, he steals the stag. You resolve to yourself to speak with your luminary to ask what to do now.

They’re concerned why you enter without the stag. They ask where it is, you explain. They look genuinely upset, but tell you to wait here. They call a warden to bring Caithe. They know you’re capable, but you’re young. They want you to retrieve the stag, and bring Caithe with you to help. You and Caithe discuss, she suggests the meeting some courtiers are having, rather than blindly attacking every nightmare camp.

She tells you where one will be, she will go to another. Your luminary offers both of you luck, promising to do what they can from the Grove. You infiltrate one meeting, you find out where the Stag is- either by outwitting the information out of the Courtier or fighting them. You can choose to kill them or leave them alive- which chooses distraction or disguise.

Caithe meets you outside Hemlock Coil. She asks what your plan is to get the stag. If you killed the courtier, you disguise and get Sariel to leave. If you left them alive, they notice you, and begrudgingly cause a scene for you, only because they refuse to owe you. Once you get the stag out, she urges you to hurry to the Grove, as it is still not safe.

The instance starts the moment you enter the Grove. The stag is in the Pale Tree’s Circle, Caithe beside it. She will protect it, with a smile she tells you that your luminary will be fighting. Niamh leads wardens. Aife stands atop the “hut” that has the first vista of the Grove. Malomedies leans on his staff, but assures you that he can fight. Kahedins is at your side with a hammer.

When you fend off the Court, Mother calls you to speak with her in the Omphalos Chamber. The stag chooses on its own to stay with you, and your luminary praises you for fighting so well.

The Shield of the Moon

The first instance is just outside Caer Verdant. You witness the attack, both you and wardens run to help. Tiachren is poisoned, you don’t even notice his shield but you’re compelled to help. He’s shouting for someone to help Ysvelta, his life means nothing without her. The warden captain- Llewyr says that he will go with the valiant to help Ysvelta. He orders the other wardens to bring Tiachren to the Grove for menders.

You and Llewyr remain to fend off the last of the attack. He explains between the waves that the Court probably attacked to get at Renvari, up at the top of the tower. You posit that Renvari probably knows where they might be taking Ysvelta, and that you two need to protect and get him to the Grove as fast as you can.

On arrival to the Grove, Caithe meets with you. She’s confused, asking why you’re with a warden captain. Llewyr explains your part in helping with Renvari, and she agrees with your suggestion that he knows. She helps you trick him, then helps you, the warden, and a barely recovered Tiachren to infiltrate the Vale to try to get Ysvelta.

She has already fallen to Nightmare, when you arrive, the four of you split up to search, but Renvari’s speech keeps you from running off to find her. Tiachren is broken down in tears when you catch up with him, he’d witnessed what they’d done to her. He begs you to let him try to speak with her, she just fell, surely he can still bring her back!

Llewyr calls for you from behind. He and Caithe have been caught and are fighting. Once Renvari is defeated, you explain why Tiachren is so frantic. Llewyr pities, but insists that you join them to defend Astorea.

If you choose to help Tiachren, you two find Ysvelta as the attack is going. She accuses you of stealing him from her, she doesn’t seem to be listening to him saying he still loves her. You two fight her. As a last ditch effort, she begs Tiachren to hold her one last time. You witness just how horrible Nightmare is when she stabs him. You fight her a second time, Caithe and Llewyr run up as you kill her. Tiachren is alive, he shouts to help you during the fight. He’s just injured and heartbroken.

If you choose to defend Astorea, you see their confrontation past the courtiers. You and Caithe press through to try to help. Tiachren attacks you alongside Ysvelta. You have to kill both of them.

Caithe runs up to you. If Tiachren is alive, she helps you get him to his feet. Llewyr takes him, promising to get him to a mender. Caithe helps you calm down and takes you to the Omphalos Chamber, where your luminary is speaking with the Mother.

Level 20 and 30 quests

For the most part, these quests are the same, but the 20 quests spend more time introducing you to Trahearne. During the level 30 quest, both of them offer insight on Riannoc and Caladbolg during each step. Both urge you to choose the Priory in the second choice, for example. You can sense mourning from both of them, as if this has dug up all their pain for losing the Knight. You are also saddened, feeling it from both of them and Mother.

Level 40-80 quests are the same

Defeat of Zhaitan and Post Personal Story

Aboard the Glory of Tyria, a piece of Zhaitan shatters part of the ship. You and Caithe are still aboard, but there is a massive gap between you and the other members of Destiny’s Edge. She urges you to use the cannons to fight Zhaitan, she will protect you. As the dragon falls, Rytlock, urges you to leap across, the Dragon makes one last attempt to take you down with it. You and Caithe jump across, Rytlock and Eir catch you two.

Adrenaline is running high, the cheers are so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Caithe looks... distressed, though.

During the party in Fort Trinity, Caithe asks you and Trahearne aside. You two step into Caer Aval with her, she turns to you two. “We’ve mistaken my Wyld Hunt,” she says, “I still feel the call, bringing down Zhaitan was... Not it.”

Trahearne is confused, asking what her hunt could possibly be. You ask what it felt like for Trahearne to complete his hunt. He describes a weight being lifted, a relief flooding his being, despite his exhaustion. You explain that you felt that too, a bit. That you still feel the call, but it’s quieter.

You ask Caithe if it’s the same for her. “No,” she says, “If anything, it’s louder.”

All this time, the three of you realize, you had her Wyld Hunt wrong... It wasn’t to slay Zhaitan. But then... What is her wyld hunt? The three of you return to the rest of the Pact and the celebration continues, though Caithe is visibly still wondering about her hunt. 

[obsidianfr3sk]

Malos días

OLI OLI CABEZA DE FRIJOLI

Salutations, fandom de renegados en español (? La Obsi decidió subir un fic en su idioma porque tiene mucha hueva de traducir pero quiere subir algo cute:) Fue super raro escribir en español sin tener constantemente en mente que iba a tener que traducirlo xd ALSO PINCHES GUIONES ME OLVIDABA QUE ERA UN PEDOTE PONERLOS. Pero lo logré y creo que quedó mamalón:’) Ahí dispersen

Summary? Idk... pues son los Everhart-Westwood siendo una familia disfuncional con final feliz (? Okno.

YA PUES PONGANSE A LEER. 

Tag list: @nodrianbcyes @dawniebb @healing-winston-pratt @alecjamesartino @everyone-has-a-nightmare (si también hablas español, únete. Somos buena onda a veces)

Detrás de la máscara, Simon podía mentirle a toda la ciudad. Podía aceptar con una enorme sonrisa sus “gracias”, sus cientos de miradas de admiración y todo la responsabilidad que le ponían en los hombros a él y al resto de sus amigos. Podía decir con seguridad que ninguno de ellos tenía que preocuparse de nuevo por los villanos. Los héroes habían triunfado. El mal se había terminado en la ciudad.

Los Renegados lo tenía todo bajo control.

Sin embargo, apenas se apagaban las luces del escenario, él dejaba de ser Dread Warden y se convertía en Simon Westwood de nuevo. Y Simon Westwood era un desastre.

Todos eran un desastre.

Aunque intentaran disimularlo, Simon los conocía lo suficientemente bien (se conocía a sí mismo lo suficientemente bien) como para saber que las cosas no estaban bien. Que quizás jamás volverían a estarlo.

Las cosas nunca iban a volver a estar bien sin Georgia a su lado. No importaba cuánto intentaran converse a sí mismos que así era.

Kasumi había intentado empezar una conversación al respecto. Unas semanas después del Día del Triunfo, después de visitar  a Max en su recién inaugurada área de cuarentena, ella y Simon los llevaron a su antigua casa. Era de noche. Adrian se quedó dormido en su cuarto de la infancia y los adultos hicieron un círculo en la sala.

Para explicar la dinámica, Kasumi tomó una pequeña almohada.

—¿Ven esto?—preguntó ella. Los otros tres asintieron—.Yo tengo una almohada. La almohada de la palabra. La vamos a ir pasando en el círculo y quien la tenga, va a tener la palabra y va hablar de cómo se siente.

—¿Cómo nos sentimos sobre qué?—preguntó Evander.

—Evander—lo regañó Simon—.Kasumi tiene la almohada de la palabra. Ahora no es tu turno de hablar.

Le arrebató la almohada a Kasumi.

—¿Cómo nos sentimos sobre qué?—repitió.

—¿Pues sobre qué más, Evander?—exclamó Tamaya rodando los ojos. Al diablo con la almohada de la palabra—.Sobre esto. La Anarquía, el Consejo…

—Sobre Georgia—interrumpió Hugh.

Le lanzó una mirada a Simon. Kasumi le pasó la almohada de la palabra, pero Hugh se la regresó.

Bueno, quizás eso no iba a funcionar con Hugh. Pero al menos iba a funcionar con los demás, ¿no?

Pues no. No funcionó con nadie.

Tamaya rompió la almohada cuando se la pasaron. Evander tomó una mitad y comenzó a hacer chistes sobre esa “maldita actividad toda ridícula” que solamente les estaba haciendo perder el tiempo, e hizo que Kasumi, una mujer de veintitrés años, se pusiera a llorar como niña chiquita, porque “ella solamente quería ayudar”. Eso solo hizo que Tamaya se enfureciera más y comenzara a gritarle a Evander por ser un “puto niño desconsiderado”.

Evander le respondió con más gritos. Kasumi lloró más fuerte.

Dos estaban gritando, una estaba llorando, y Simon…

Simon sintió que se quedaba sin aire.

Era un ataque de pánico aproximándose.

Volteó a ver a Hugh. Estaba sentado en el suelo, mirando sus manos con expresión vacía.

—Hugh—lo llamó con voz temblorosa—Hugh, haz algo. Por favor…

Hugh alzó la vista. Evander y Tamaya se llevaron la pelea a la cocina, y Kasumi los siguió, probablemente para asegurarse que no se mataran.

Creyó que los iba a seguir también. Que les iba a decir que no iba a seguir tolerando ese comportamiento. Que Adrian estaba dormido en el cuarto del fondo y que podían despertarlo. Que así no era como se comportaban unos adultos y mucho menos, unos gobernantes.

Que Georgia no hubiera querido que eso ocurriera.

Tú la conociste mejor que nadie. Tú sabes qué haría ella. Hazlo entonces. Haz lo que ella haría.

Pero no lo hizo. Porque Hugh era Hugh y jamás iba a poder ser Georgia.

Así que solo se acercó a él, lo tomó de la mano y lo acompañó durante todo el ataque de pánico, sin quejarse y sin dejarle de recordar, sin palabras, que estaba ahí para él.

Apenas su respiración volvió a la normalidad y su cabeza dejó de sentirse como si fuera a explotar, Hugh le preguntó si podían irse. Simon aceptó.

Mientras Hugh iba por Adrian al cuarto, él asomó la cabeza a la cocina. Kasumi había dejado de llorar, y estaba sentada en una silla con los ojos y la nariz rojos como un conejito. Evander tenía la cabeza pegada a la esquina de la cocina y golpeaba su frente ligeramente contra ella. Tamaya se dio cuenta de eso y no dudó en pararse para decirle, con voz muy calmada, que dejara de hacerse daño.

Estaba llorando. Tamaya estaba llorando.

Los dos se fueron sin despedirse. Adrian iba en los brazos de Hugh, envuelto en una cobija roja y completamente dormido. Durante todo el trayecto, le estuvo dando palmaditas en la espalda, mirándolo de reojo de forma tan…

Arrepentida.

No fue tu culpa. No fue culpa de ninguno de nosotros.

Ver a Kasumi derrotada, a Evander lastimándose, a Tamaya llorar y Hugh tan callado en una sola noche había sido demasiado para Simon.

Durmieron dándose la espalda.

No sabía qué hacer.

Solo ella hubiera sabido qué hacer.

Lo peor es que al día siguiente, todos se vieron en el trabajo y se hablaron como si la noche anterior no hubiera ocurrido. Pareciera que el Consejo entero hubiera tenido una reunión a sus espaldas y que hubieran llegado a un acuerdo: pasarían el resto de sus vidas haciéndose los locos cada vez que alguien les preguntara sobre las cosas horribles que habían pasado.

Pero Simon se negaba a hacerse el loco.

Es por eso que tampoco podía ignorar a Adrian. No como ellos.

A ver, los demás no ignoraban a Adrian del todo. Estaban constantemente pendientes de él. Kasumi más de una vez le había contado cuentos durante las horas de trabajo, Tamaya hacía de crítica de arte cada vez que le mostraba algún dibujo y Evander siempre le estaba tomando el pelo a las personas con tal de hacerlo reír.

El problema era que en todas las ocasiones que hablaban de Adrian, alguno de los tres terminaba diciendo: “Adrian es un niño muy maduro. Ha llevado muy bien la situación.”

Y eso lo enfurecía. No sabían de lo que estaban hablando.

Ellos solo veían a Adrian en sus buenos días. Cuando estaba rodeado de gente, cuando correteaba los pasillos del Cuartel General, o cuando le hacía gestos chistosos a Max desde el otro lado del cristal. No veían a Adrian cuando tenía terrores nocturnos. Cuando le daban ataques de pánico cada vez que alguno de ellos dos se tardaba más de lo normal en ir por pan a la tienda. Cuando pasaba horas dibujando encerrado su cuarto, porque dibujar era lo único que lo distraía del dolor.

No lo veían en sus malos días.

No tenían el vivo retrato de Georgia jugando con muñecos de acción al otro lado de la pared de su cuarto, haciendo que se preguntaran constantemente si estaban haciendo lo correcto.

No, no sabían de lo que estaban hablando.

Y lo peor de todo, es que ese día, era un mal día.

Estaban cenando en el comedor. Simon había preparada arroz con espárragos y coliflor. Ninguno de los tres estaba hablando.

A Simon le recordó demasiado a su infancia.

Adrian le dio unos toquecitos en el brazo.

—¿Ya me puedo ir?—le preguntó.

Simon miró su plato. Únicamente se había comido el arroz.

—Todavía tienes comida en el plato.

Adrian hizo una mueca.

—Pero no los quiero—respondió—.No tengo hambre.

Volteó a ver a Hugh. Estaba jugando con los granos de arroz de su plato. Simon suspiró.

—Bien. Puedes irte.

A él tampoco le gustaban mucho los espárragos o la colifror. Mucho menos en malos días.

—No, Adrian. Termínate las verduras.

La sonrisa se borró de inmediato de la cara de Adrian.

¿Por qué no pudiste decirle eso cinco segundos antes?

—Pero no los quiero—insistió.

Hugh levantó la mirada y lo señaló con el tenedor.

—No me importa. En esta casa…

—Creo que yo puedo con esto—intervino Simon.

—No es cuestión de si puedes con esto o no, Simon—le respondió sin voltearlo a ver—.Es cuestión de que tú, Adrian, aprendas a valorar las cosas que te da la vida. Cuando nosotros éramos niños, no teníamos el lujo de una cena caliente cada noche y te apuesto que hay muchos otros niños que quisieran comerse esos espárragos—clavó su tenedor en un pedazo de colifror—.Termínatelo.

No iba a salir bien, no iba a salir bien…

La cara de Adrian se contrajo de coraje. Empujó el plato fuera de su alcance, volteó a ver a ambos, y con la voz más molesta que alguna vez le hubieran escuchado, les dijo:

—Pues cómanselos ustedes.

Simon escondió la cabeza entre sus brazos.

No salió bien.

Nada estaba saliendo bien.

¿Algún día nos van a salir las cosas bien, Georgia?

Pero Georgia no respondió.

Sin embargo, Hugh sí lo hizo.

—No me hagas repetirlo.

Y le acercó el plato otra vez. Y Adrian empujó. Otra vez.

—¡NO QUIERO! ¡NO QUIERO COMER ESPÁRRAGOS! ¡Y TAMPOCO TE QUIERO A TI!

A Simon le habían dado muchísimos golpes a lo largo de su vida. Pero ni los niños de la escuela, ni los peores villanos le habían dado golpes tan bajos como ese.

Es solo un niño. Es solo un niño muy triste. No te está tratando de lastimar, es solo que…

Es solo que él está muy herido.

Como todos.

—Esa no es forma de hablarle a tus mayores.

—¡NO TE QUIERO A TI! ¡QUIERO A MI MAMÁ! ¡QUIERO A MI MAMÁ!

Simon se miró en el reflejo de la cuchara. Concéntrate en tu respiración, Simon. Mira tus ojos. Mira tus manos. Estás aquí. No te has ido. Nada te va a arrebatar de nuestro lado. Estás vivo. Estás a salvo.

Ojalá le pudiera decir a Adrian la verdad.

Decirle que ambos pensaban lo mismo.

—¡Bueno, pues tu mamá ya no está!—gritó Hugh—¡Georgia ya no está!

Intentó disimular su voz rota. Ay, Hugh...

Adrian no se dio cuenta de ese detalle. Él siguió llorando. Siguió gritando. Y siguió terco con que no iba a comerse sus espárragos.

Ninguno de los dos notó cuando Simon se puso de pie y se fue a su habitación.

Desde el piso de arriba podían escucharse los gritos. Qué horror. ¿Qué estarían diciendo los vecinos?

Felicidades, señores, arruinarán a ese niño.

Todavía no tenían muchas cosas en su armario. Se puso de puntillas para llegar a lo más alto y tomar aquel objeto que tan celosamente habían escondido en lo más oscuro de su hogar.

Una caja en forma de durazno.

Simon la abrió. Olía a vainilla y crema para las manos. En la parte interior de la tapa, una Georgia de veinte años había escrito con letra cursiva: Propiedad de Georgia Rawles. ¡Mañana será un mejor día!

Ay, Georgia siempre estaba con sus cosas. ¡Mañana todo será mejor! ¡El mundo no se ha acabado, así que las cosas no están tan mal! ¡Al menos llegamos a la noche!

Cuando era adolescente, Simon recuerda haber odiado el optimismo inquebrantable de Georgia.

—¿Por qué no puedo sentirme mal?—le dijo una vez—¿Por qué no puedo quedarme aquí, a llorar un rato? ¿Por qué tengo que estar feliz todo el tiempo? ¿¡Por qué no puedes tenerme tantita empatía, Georgia, y dejar que me rinda!?

Incluso detrás de su mirada nublada por las lágrimas, pudo ver que la había herido.  

Simon creía que iba a darse la vuelta y dejarlo solo.

Pero en vez de eso, se sentó a su lado y lo abrazó.

—Va—le susurró al oído—.Entonces llora. Llora y siéntete terrible todo lo que tú quieras, ¿de acuerdo? Pero no voy a dejar que te rindas. Nunca me vuelvas a pedir que te deje rendirte. Nunca me voy a rendir contigo. ¿Entendido, corazón? Ven, cuéntame si quieres. Soy toda oídos.

Simon entendió. Esa noche, lloró muchísimo. Sin embargo, tener a Georgia con él lo había hecho mucho más llevadero.

A partir de ese momento, pudo comprenderla mejor. No era que pensara que nunca había que sentirse triste. Era que pensaba que siempre había que tener en mente que mañana podía ser mejor.

Se preguntó si alguna vez Georgia tuvo que recordarse eso a sí misma.

Cuántas preguntas no le había hecho en vida.

Dentro de la caja había un diccionario de bolsillo, un paquete de notas adhesivas rosadas, un barniz de uñas turquesa a punto de terminarse, una foto de bodas antigua...

Y sobre ellos, las únicas dos cosas que se habían atrevido a tomar del cuerpo de Georgia cuando la encontraron. Una gruesa liga amarilla con la que siempre se peinaba y la máscara dorada que ocultaba su verdadera identidad.

Dejó la caja sobre la cama y sostuvo en cada mano un objeto.

Georgia y Lady Indómita jamás habían sido tan diferentes.

Adrian rompió un vaso.

La verdad es que yo también quisiera que estuvieras aquí.

Se paró enfrente del espejo de su habitación.

No tengo ni idea de qué tengo que hacer.

Su reflejo tenía la misma mirada confundida. Él tampoco sabía.

Bajó la vista. La máscara y la liga no lucían confundidas.

¿Qué es lo que tengo que hacer?

Y Simon supo la respuesta.

Sujetó su cabello con la liga. Colocó la máscara sobre su rostro. Miró al espejo una vez más y ya no era su reflejo el que estaba ahí. Era el de Georgia.

O… bueno. Algo parecido a ella.

Haz lo que yo haría, Simon.

Simon abrió la puerta del cuarto con una patada. La pelea dejó de escucharse de inmediato.

Bajó las escaleras estoicamente, mirando al frente y con la barbilla en alto. Hugh se había detenido en su camino a las escaleras, probablemente a punto de ir a ver si Simon estaba bien. Adrian permanecía en su silla, con los ojos hinchados de tanto llorar, pero abiertos a más no poder.

Georgia no se dejaría intimidar por sus reacciones.

—No vuelvas a gritarle al niño—dijo con la voz más aguda y estrictamente maternal que pudo—.No vuelvas a gritarle al niño o a ti será a quien te voy a gritar, ¿entendiste? Ahora,—lo tomó de la muñeca y lo dirigió de regreso a la mesa—termina tu comida. De aquí nadie se levanta hasta que lo hagas.

—Sim…

—¡Nadie se levanta hasta que lo hagas!—chilló—.Usted mismo lo dijo, Capitán. Hay que valorar las cosas que nos da la vida. Así que… valore las verduras que le da la vida.

Sígueme el juego, Hugh. Por favor, sígueme el juego solo en esta ocasión.

Y como si le hubiera leído el pensamiento, Hugh comenzó a comerse un espárrago. Pero seguía teniendo esa mirada extraña en él.

Parecía estar preguntándole qué carajos estaba haciendo.

Lo que ella haría.

—Ahora, tú—señaló a Adrian—.Tú tampoco me tienes muy contenta, corazón—acercó su silla a él y junto las manos sobre la mesa—¿Qué es lo que está pasando?

A Simon le parecieron cinco horas y no cinco segundos el tiempo que Adrian se quedó boquiabierto, mirándolo como si fuera un fantasma.

Quizás lo era.

Quizás eso es lo único que terminaría siendo Georgia. Un fantasma.

Por suerte no pudo seguir pensando en ello, porque Adrian recuperó la voz justo a tiempo.

—Es que… no me quiero comer las verduras—respondió.

—Mmmm, qué interesante caso—contestó asintiendo ligeramente—¿Pero… por qué no te las quieres comer?

—Porque saben mal—exclamó él—.Y huelen feo. Luego se desintegran cuando intentó ponerlas en mi tenedor y es de… ¡Agh!

Simon tuvo que aguantarse la risa para no salir de personaje.

—Okey, se vale—aceptó él—.Pero a veces tenemos que hacer cosas que no nos gustan porque son buenas para otros. O para nosotros mismos.

Adrian frunció el ceño y giró la cabeza ligeramente. No entendía.

Tomó un espárrago entre sus dedos.

—Por ejemplo… ¿tú sabes por qué yo y Simon estamos tan fuertes?—le preguntó haciendo como si le estuviera mostrando sus músculos—.No es porque hayamos nacido con superfuerza, como el cuate de allá, es porque nosotros nos comimos todas nuestras verduras cuando teníamos ocho años.

Y Adrian… Adrian soltó una carcajada.

Casi llora del alivio.

—¡No es cierto!—exclamó—.Eso es algo que los viejos le dicen a los niños para que coman sano.

—¿Le dices a tu madre mentirosa?—preguntó haciéndose el ofendido—.No, no, no, peor, ¿le estás diciendo a tu madre vieja? ¡Hazme el bendito favor! ¡Qué niño tan descarado!

—Okey, pero es que sonaste como una vieja—aclaró Adrian sin dejar de reír—.No es que lo seas.

—Ah, bueno, gracias por la aclaración—contestó, ya más calmado—.Porque sí, yo nunca miento. Los espárragos y las coliflores juntos hacen que te pongas más guapo y fuerte. Es decir, yo siempre fui súper guapa, pero Simon era un niño bastante feo. Antes solo comía…

—Galletas de polvo de estrellas—intervino Hugh. Simon lo volteó a ver. Casi se había terminado todos sus vegetales—.Antes solamente comía eso. Nada de verduras.

—¡Exacto! Antes Simon solo comía eso—siguió diciendo—.Pero apenas yo lo introduje al maravilloso mundo de la comida sana, te lo juro, Adrian, que se empezó a caer de lo buenísimo que se puso. ¿Confirma, Capitán?

Hugh casi se atraganta con el pedazo de coliflor que estaba comiendo.

—Este… confirmo. Eso pasó—balbuceó.

Adrian hizo como que vomitaba. Simon le guiñó el ojo antes de volver a dirigir toda su atención a su hijo.

—Así que ya sabes. Si comes tus verduras, serás muy guapo y fuerte. Tú decides—y masticó su espárrago.

Adrian se rascó la barbilla y miró al cielo, como considerando la propuesta.

—Es más—dijo Hugh—.Si te comes tus verduras, tu mamá te va a enseñar a volar. Así como ella lo hace.

—¿De verdad?—preguntó entusiasmado.

Simon luchó por no rodar los ojos. Muchas putas gracias, Capitán, me diste más trabajo.

—¡Claro!—respondió él—.Ven, para que no me digas de nuevo que soy una mentirosa, te doy una prueba gratis. Párate en la silla—Se puso de pie y extendió los brazos—.Ahora, te comes una colifror, saltas y volarás.

Adrian se paró en la silla torpemente.

—¿Segura que funcionará?

—¡Segurísima! Solo… brinca con cuidado.

No te mates, por favor.

Adrian tomó una colifror, la comió sin hacer ni una sola mueca y brincó hacia él.

Simon lo atrapó y lo alzó sobre su cabeza lo más alto que pudo.

—¡Wow, Adrian, estás volando!—exclamó—¡Estás volando!

—¡Estoy volando!—se rio Adrian—¡Mira, estoy volando!—le dijo a Hugh.

—¡Y lo haces muy bien!

Simon y él cruzaron miradas por un segundo. Y decidió vengarse.

—¡Atrápalo, Capitán!

—¡ESPERA, NO!

Pero Hugh lo atrapó a tiempo. Adrian no dejó de reírse en todo el rato.

Entonces, Hugh se rio también. Lo puso sobre sus hombros cuidadosamente y Adrian comenzó a jugar con los mechones de su cabello.

Lo estás haciendo genial, Simon.

—Adrian—lo llamó Hugh—creo que… te debo una disculpa. Tu mamá tiene razón. No debí haberte gritado.

—Yo tampoco debí haber gritado—balbuceó Adrian.

—Pero yo soy el adulto. Debí haber reaccionado de mejor manera.

—Otra vez tiene toda la razón, Capitán—comentó Simon encogiéndose de hombros.

Hugh asintió, aceptando la derrota.

—Nueva regla en la casa: nadie le grita a nadie—sentenció—Bajo ninguna circunstancia. ¿Qué te parece, Adrian?

—Me parece una regla excelente—contestó alegremente.

—Y a mí me parece excelente que te parezca excelente.

Tú también lo estás haciendo bien, Hugh.

—¿En qué quedamos, entonces?—preguntó Simon poniéndole el plato de comida debajo de la nariz—¿Comerás tus verduras?

—Bueno, mamá, es que yo no veo qué nuevos beneficios eso me traería a mí—respondió Adrian encogiéndose de hombros—.Yo ya soy muy fuerte y muy guapo.

—¡Vaya! Parece que alguien piensa muy bien de sí mismo—exclamó carcajeándose—.Bueno, se entiende. Lo fuerte y guapo lo sacaste de tu ma… de mí. Eso lo sacaste de mí.

Hugh lo miró como si Simon acabara de matar a alguien.

Simon sí se sentía como si acabara de matar a alguien.

Lo arruinaste. Lo echaste todo a perder.

Pero Adrian le sonrió con más intensidad que antes.

—Me convenciste—respondió quedito—.Pero solo los comeré si Simon está aquí. Le quiero decir que al final sí voy a terminarme la comida. Y que él me dé su permiso, claro.

Se sujetó el pecho y suspiró. El terror se había dio tan rápido como había llegado.

—De acuerdo, iré por él—masculló. Dejó el plato en la mesa—.Pero antes, corazón, me tienes que hacer un favor.

—Comer vegetales ya es un favor que te estoy haciendo.

—Otro favor, entonces.

Adrian recargó la barbilla sobre la cabeza de Hugh.

—Soy todo oídos.

Por supuesto que lo eres.

—Corazón, necesito que cuides mucho a Simon y a Hugh—respondió. Adrian alzó las cejas—.Sé que tú me extrañas mucho. Créeme que ellos lo hacen también. Saben que jamás serán como yo y la verdad es que van a equivocarse mucho. Muchísimo. Mil veces—con una mano sujetó la de Adrian—Pero quiero que te quede muy claro, Adrian—y con la otra, lo tomó de la barbilla—.Yo nunca me rendí con ellos. Ellos nunca se van a rendir contigo.

Adrian le apretó la mano con más fuerza.

—Claro que voy a cuidar de ellos. Son mis papás.  

Se le hizo un nudo en la garganta.

Esa era la primera vez que los llamaba así.

Papás.

—Confío en ti, entonces.

—Confía en mí.

No volteó a ver si Adrian y Hugh lo seguían con la mirada cuando subió las escaleras. Se quitó la máscara, soltó su cabello y las metió dentro de la caja de durazno. No fue hasta que había regresado todo a su lugar que se atrevió a mirarse al espejo una vez más.

Volvía a ser Simon.

Quizás las cosas no volverían a ser las de antes. Quizás nunca dejarían de ser un desastre.

Pero se seguían teniendo mutuamente, y si algo habían aprendido, era que tener a alguien para afrontar los malos días, hacía todo mucho más fácil.

[trvelyans-archive]

past and present

a comm for the wonderful @dauntless-necromancer of morrigan and kieran and their warden elrich cousland <3 thank you for commissioning me ! 

also for context because i didn’t post the first one, in this fic morrigan and kieran live in the mountains while elrich is searching for a cure for the calling ! and kieran’s a teen now, iconic ! i hope you enjoy !!! <3

-

It was just supposed to be a walk. 

Kieran often walked across the mountain vistas surrounding his and Mother’s new home – it was his only escape whenever they were in an argument or she needed a few hours alone after receiving another letter from Father with bad news. He had a few paths he liked to walk the most, but sometimes he explored a little further than the last time; a little higher up the cliffs than he was able to reach when he was younger. 

He was 19 after all, now, and growing into his own. He was a short child – he hadn’t been taller than Mother until he was 14 or 15 - but now that he was (finally) an adult, he was gangly. (At least that’s what Mother said.) He had strong arms and legs, plenty strong enough to be able to pull himself up and over the higher ledges on the mountains, but they looked thin and ropy, and Mother always told him that he was much stronger than anyone would ever assume he was at a glance. 

“Which isn’t entirely a bad thing,” she’d said after, kissing him on the forehead as she brushed past him to reach the cupboards where they stored their herbs while they two of them made dinner. “It will be much easier for you to take them by surprise that way, after all.”  

She said that with a twinkle in her eye, then, and that always made everything better. 

Today, though, things were different. Kieran left in a huff after they’d gotten into another one of those arguments they seemed to have every couple of days at that point – there were messages and letters from Father that Mother sometimes kept quiet despite Kieran practically begging to see them, and he had had enough. He wanted promises too, after all. He wanted Father to tell him that he was okay, that things were okay, that he would return to his family one day soon when his work was finished. He didn’t want to hear it from Mother – of course she would tell him that. She would do everything for him.  

Or… most things, at least. Except read him Father’s letters or let him write one of his own in return. 

So he left, wrapped up in his favourite cloak with a full waterskin, a pack full of food, and a journal that Father had sent him several years, and Mother stood at the doorway, watching him go with a frown on her face. He was entirely intent on returning before evening fell – because, really, there was no where to go - when he found himself stuck in the middle of a blizzard. 

A few years ago, when he was younger, he would have been much more scared of being stuck out in the snow by himself. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t scared this time – he was, especially because he quickly realized that he accidentally forgot his warmest mittens back home – but he knew how to deal with this kind of thing much better. 

After all, there wasn’t much else to do up in the mountains but explore. Read, write. Take a walk.  

Get caught in a blizzard. 

He laughed to himself and pulled his hood up higher over his face, trudging through the quickly rising snow into a thick grove of pine trees. On every couple of branches, every couple of trees, hung little clay ornaments Kieran sometimes made when he was desperately bored in the middle of summer, and the sight of the few that he could tell were made by Mother calmed him a little. Blizzards ebbed and flowed quite often up here in the mountains, so it would only take an hour or so for this portion of it to pass. Of course, that meant Kieran had to take shelter somewhere to wait it out safely, but he did not mind very much. It just gave him time to think about the letter he would write Papa when he returned home, whether or not Mother wanted him to or not. 

She didn’t have to know… 

Not that he liked keeping secrets from Mother. She was all he had – for now, at least, until Papa would join them in the mountains one day soon and they’d be together again – and they had to trust each other to stay alive. They were as close as a mother and her child could possibly be, she always said. They had respect for one another, even though they had seen each other in their lowest moments, and they tried not to keep any secrets between them, no matter how dark or scary they were. 

No secrets, and yet she always hid Father’s letters. 

Kieran frowned. He wasn’t going to apologize first this time. 

After all, he always needed some sort of distraction nowadays to keep him from dwelling on all the thoughts in his mind; so he could ignore the voices that he sometimes heard at the back of his head even though he knew no one was behind him. Though Mother didn’t like to talk about it very much, there was something different about him – something that had always been different about him. For the longest time, he thought it was normal, that everyone felt that way – especially after he had gone to Skyhold with Mother to meet the Inquisitor and tried to befriend some of the other children there - but around the time he turned 17, Mother sat him down and told him… well… a lot. A lot of things he never expected to hear but also, somehow, that he saw coming at the same time. 

He huffed as he leaned against a tree and slid down into the snow, pulling his cloak around his body and swinging his pack down from his shoulders to hug it against his chest. He had a book in his bag, but he wasn’t content on bringing it out right now – the snow would surely melt against the pages, and he had no intention on smearing the ink when his books were the few prized possessions he actually had. Instead he tipped his head back against the tree and looked up, at the flurries of flying snow, at the muted grey sky beyond them. 

And then, somehow, he fell asleep. 

He did not wake up on the mountain. 

The first thing he thought when he awoke and his vision cleared was that, somehow, he was actually very thankful he hadn’t brought his warmest mittens along. They would have made his current condition much, much worse, as every other part of his body was sweating. 

He squinted as he glanced up, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming through the leaves in the trees – not pine needles, he noted, actual leaves – and staring into the sky. There was no trace of any clouds above him, grey and stormy or otherwise, and, in fact, it seemed like quite a beautiful day. So beautiful, in fact, that he was lulled into a foolish sense of security for a moment before bolting upright.  

He was far, far away from home. 

Before he started moving, he shed his heavy coat and draped them over his arm after pushing up the sleeves of his shirt but left his cloak on, pulling his hood higher up over his face. He could not remember if it was summer or not – he often forgot such things because they lived so high up in the mountains that the seasons didn’t mean much besides it being slightly colder in Wintermarch and vaguely warmer in Justinian - so perhaps he had no reason to be too worried. It could be that he was somewhere in the foothills of the Frostbacks and it’d only take a week or so to return to Mother – well, if the weather held out like this… 

But he knew the treacherous roads of the Frostbacks as well as anyone, and he knew well enough that once he reached higher altitudes the trek would become much harder. 

So, then, knowing that, perhaps instead of a week it would be more like… three. Give or take a few days for the weather, any issues with the roads, and especially considering that he wasn’t certain he was in the foothills, anyway. After all, the terrain felt much different; the flora was unlike anything he had seen in recent memory. Based off of his knowledge of the world alone, he could’ve been in… the Free Marches. He could’ve been in Orlais. He could’ve been anywhere. 

And everywhere, right now, seemed very far away from home. 

But there was no point in worrying about it in the meanwhile, at least not until he started moving and got a sense of where he was. He couldn’t undo… whatever it was that had just happened – or, at least, it was very unlikely he could undo it, especially since he didn’t know how it had happened in the first place - and sitting here, dwelling on it and twiddling his thumbs meant he was wasting precious time. Kieran heaved a heavy sigh and started off towards a gap in the trees, figuring that it was as good a place as any to start. 

Kieran liked to consider himself an optimistic person – he had forced himself to be when he started growing older - but after only a few minutes, he was beginning to realize just how much he sounded like his mother. 

That hurt more than he wanted it to. 

Thankfully he had his waterskin, and a book in his bag he could read if he got bored. This was not the type of forest he was used to – there were no swollen roots or long, overhanging branches – and, if he felt so inclined, he could probably take out his book and read while he walked without it slowing him down too much. Perhaps tomorrow he’d take his mind off of things by reading while he travelled – that is, of course, if he didn’t have to use his book as kindling tonight. Which made him feel… more miserable, somehow.  

He was out of the forest within an hour, and across a meadow in the next. The cloak was slowing him down slightly – it was heavy, thick wool – but he thought it would be best to keep his face hidden for now, even as he descended down a short hill into another thicket of oak trees. Pausing, he leaned against a tree and pulled out his waterskin, uncorking the top and tilting his head back to pour a stream of water into his mouth. 

When he felt the tip of a knife against the back of his neck, he couldn’t help but choke. 

He recovered quickly, though, and wiped his mouth on the back of his neck while he turned around slowly with his hands raised in defense (one still holding his waterskin, which he was dangerously close to spilling).  

“Ah,” the man said quietly. He was an elf, with tanned skin and golden hair, and though he was considerably shorter than Kieran and quite a bit smaller, the knife at Kieran’s throat didn’t do anything to make him feel less intimidated. “I must admit… you looked much more threatening from behind.” 

Kieran frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that perhaps I should not run you through right now,” the man replied, taking a short step back. “Not that I was planning to, really – the man in charge would not approve – but, if you had posed a threat… well, the thought crossed my mind.” 

Kieran crossed his arms over his chest. He could be plenty threatening. This man didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“Who’s this ‘man in charge’ you’re speaking about?” he asked. 

The man laughed, and Kieran felt his annoyance grow even stronger. “I do not think I am at liberty to disclose that information to anyone quite yet,” he said. “At least not without getting a fair punishment in return. Saying that, I do suggest you move along – some of our friends are, well… not very open to strangers, and –“ 

“Zevran?” 

A woman stepped out from behind the elf, a woman with bright orange hair and a medium build who looked unsettlingly familiar. “Who’s this?” she said, eyes narrowing and nose wrinkling. 

“Perhaps a bandit,” Zevran said. “Does not quite look the type, to me anyway, but appearances can be deceiving, no?” 

The woman rolled her eyes. “He’s probably just a villager from the nearby town,” she told the elf before turning to Kieran. “Is there something wrong? Have you lost your parents to the Blight?” 

The Blight? 

The Blight was almost 20 years ago now – the Blight, Mother said once, is the reason Kieran was born in the first place; the reason he had the abilities to read things and feel things the way he did. 

How did he end up here? 

“No,” he answered hesitantly. “I mean… Yes, I have. My mother and father are…” 

He didn’t finish. He didn’t quite know exactly what to say. 

“I am sorry to hear that,” the woman said, taking a step closer. “Would you like me to keep them in my prayers tonight?” 

Zevran, the elf, cleaned the flat side of his blade with his thumb, never taking his eyes off Kieran. 

“Yes, I would appreciate that very much.” Kieran shifted uneasily on his feet, glancing at the woman from underneath his low-hanging hood. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?” 

“I am Leliana.” She smiled at him. “And you are…?” 

Leliana. Of course. Kieran remembered Leliana well from his time in Skyhold – she had been in several strongly-worded discussions with Mother late at night when she stopped by their quarters. She looked younger, now – happier. And much, much less tired. 

Kieran knew that time travel was a possibility – he’d heard some rumours about Tevinter Magisters travelling through time several years ago – but he wasn’t well-versed in how it worked enough to be able to have done this himself. 

There had to be a reason he was here, and he was determined to figure it out. 

“Kier,” he said after realizing she was waiting for a response. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Leliana.” 

“You, as well.” She glanced over at Zevran. “See? He’s not a bandit. If he is, he’s certainly better at conversation than the rest of them.” 

“Yes, yes, he is a wonderful conversationalist,” Zevran replied. “However, Leliana, I do believe we have duties to attend to, hm?” 

“Ah, yes!” Leliana offered Kieran a dazzling smile. “Well, I’m sorry about your parents, Kier. May the Maker watch over you.” 

Leliana and Zevran had been two of his parents’ companions during the Blight. Leliana was one of the few people who had tried to reach out to Mother after her and Kieran left the Inquisition following the defeat of Corypheus, even if they had never quite become friends. If they were here, that must have meant his parents were around, too. 

And he wanted so badly to see them, to see what they were like when they were younger… 

“Do you have room for another person to travel with you?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. 

- 

And Kieran thought Mother was suspicious of outsiders now. After seeing what she was like during the Blight, he’d never think that again. 

It had been a few days of travelling with them – which still felt incredibly weird and alien to him – and though she glared at him less and less in camp, she still glared at him every chance she got. It made him feel sick to his stomach to see her glaring at him like that, and each time she did he felt like there was something he needed to apologize for.  

There was, really, a whole list of things to say sorry about. I’m sorry for not respecting your privacy. I’m sorry for letting my emotions get the better of me. I’m sorry that I just miss Father so much – 

And then, well, he stopped finding things to apologize for and instead found things he wanted her to apologize for, so it was a little bit of a moot point. Especially because this wasn’t the right version of his mother he had to apologize to. 

And perhaps he wasn’t helping by always keeping his hood up in camp, but there was nothing else he could do, really. He couldn’t very well wear a mask without arousing even more suspicion. And though Leliana took a shining to him, and Zevran was about as nice to him as Kieran wanted, Mother and Father – or Morrigan and Elrich as he had begun to force himself to call them – didn’t pay very much attention to him at all. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice. 

While he sat in the opening of his makeshift tent, he watched them. It was nice – in his time, he had only seen them together when he was a young child, and he scarcely remembered any of those times very well. But here, during the Blight, they talked and sat together. Even if they didn’t sit too closely or too intimately – even if Morrigan kept her distance – they were… together. And that was what mattered to him, really, in the end, even if he couldn’t be a part of it. He just wanted his parents to be together and for him to see it. It made him happy when they acted like a real, true family.  

They hadn’t done that in a very long time. 

Besides that, though, there was still a tension between his parents that he couldn’t deny, but he didn’t quite know why it was. He’d known that his grandmother – whatever she was, in the end – wasn’t very kind to his own mother, but he didn’t understand how that affected her. After, Father was sitting beside her in front of the fire with a hand in the short space between their bodies, and Kieran could tell he wanted to reach out for her. So why didn’t he? And if he did, why wouldn’t Mother let him? 

One night, when rain trickled down from wispy gray clouds and left a thin mist over the camp, he sat in the mouth of his tent as always, watching them, and this time he was close enough to hear. 

“… Even you aren’t immune to my charms, are you, Morrigan?” 

Morrigan glanced away, down at her hands. “I am immune to every man’s charms, Elrich,” she answered. 

“You don’t have to be,” he said softly. 

She looked over at him and smirked, but Kieran could tell there was a sadness behind it – a sadness he had seen himself in their time. “Oh?” she said. They were sitting closely together – much closer than Morrigan sat with anyone else in camp – but she wasn’t close enough to rest her head on his shoulder or hold his hand. “You think you know everything I’ve been through, do you?” 

“No,” Elrich responded, “I didn’t say that. I meant, rather, that you don’t have to be immune to every man’s charms – certainly not mine.” 

Morrigan sighed. “Have we not been over this enough?” she asked quietly. 

“We have,” Elrich answered before offering up a small, sad smile of his own. (Kieran realized how much he looked like his father, in that moment – the colour of his eyes, the shape of his hair. He used to look much more like his mother as a child, but now the gentle slope of his jaw had turned sharp, and he had to shave quite often in the golden looking glass Mother had displayed in her room.) “I just thought I would remind you.”  

“Your reminders are… welcome.” She stood up suddenly, reaching up to adjust the cloak around her neck so it hung more tightly across her shoulders and chest. “I should turn in for the night.” 

“I should, too.” Elrich stood up beside her and tilted his head down to look at her, eyes roaming across her face for a long moment before he backed away with a slow, approving nod. “Goodnight, Morrigan.” 

“Sleep well,” she said, turning on her heel and heading back towards her tent. Not without shooting Kieran another glare, first, but this time he didn’t care. He pulled his hood higher over his head and inched back into camp, closing the tent doors behind him. 

There must have been some reason that Morrigan did not feel safe initiating a relationship with Elrich – there must have been something to inevitably draw them together, as well. The rings that his mother and father both wore in his time were not worn by either of them right now, so he supposed that that should have been his first step. 

After he got some sleep, of course. 

As always, his dreams were plagued with phantom faces looming over him and shadows that slunk into darkness at the corners of his eyes. Voices that somehow sounded distant and close at the same time whispered in his ear, and he could feel the ground vibrate with every step one of the blurry figures took towards him from a cloud of dense, green fog. Some of it was Elven – he had known how to speak it since he was a child – and some of it sounded older; more ancient. He knew what the language was and who it belonged to, but he just couldn’t put it into words for himself. This is how he had slept every night. And as always, when he finally awoke, his brain was tied into knots that took him several long moments to pull apart so he could finally breathe again. 

It helped to have Mother around to sing him lullabies when he woke up. He suspected he would not be able to ask her now unless he wanted to risk being flayed alive. 

That day, the voices echoed in his head as they climbed small mountain in the foothills of the Frostbacks (too far away from Mother for him to turn tail – he didn’t think it would work, anyway). They were heading for Orzammar, Elrich had told Kieran that morning when he emerged from his tent covered in a thin sheen of sweat. They had business with the Dwarves to attend to. Kieran was neither pleased nor displeased at the announcement – it gave him time to figure out with the words floating around in his head meant; what exactly they were trying to tell him to do. 

It was hard when Elrich kept asking questions.

Not that Kieran didn’t want to talk to him - he really, really did. After all, that’s what had gotten him into this in the first place. It was just... well, this was the wrong version of his father to talk to, and he didn’t want to give anything away.

But his emotions won out, in the end - instead of telling him to leave him alone like he should’ve, he sat down around the fire with him and made breakfast. Well, watched Elrich make breakfast.

“So, are you from Ferelden?” Elrich asked, glancing over at Kieran.

“Yes,” he answered.

Elrich smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges with amusement. “You don’t sound Fereldan,” he commented. “Can’t imagine this is a very nice time to see the country.”

He sounded the same as he always had - dignified, confident, and most of all kind - but his voice was much higher, and Kieran couldn’t help but snicker at how hard his father was trying to sound mature. 

“Well, the company is good,” Kieran replied. “I cannot get any safer than I am travelling with two Grey Wardens.”

Elrich leveled an even, unflinching stare at him, though Kieran could see a flash of fear in his eyes. “You know?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kieran said. “It’s not that hard to tell, really.” 

Elrich laughed. “What gave it away? The Griffon breastplate?”

Kieran laughed, too, and then realized how much it sounded like his father’s and stopped. “Perhaps,” he said. “My mother always says - er, said - that I’m very observant.”

“Well, your mother sounds like she was a smart woman.” Elrich pulled the pot of soup off of the fire and set it on the ground, where it melted the thin layer of snow around it. 

“She was,” Kieran replied, tilting his head to hide his smile.

“What happened to her?” Elrich questioned. “Darkspawn?”

“You could say that,” Kieran responded.

“I’m sorry.” Elrich scooped a spoonful of porridge into a bowl and handed it to Kieran. “If it makes you feel any better, something worse than Darkspawn killed my parents.”

Kieran flinched. He knew what happened to his father’s parents, but he and his mother had always agreed that, selfishly, they were slightly thankful - they would not be here if it wasn’t for them. However, hearing his father talk about it now, when the wound was still fresh... it hurt.

Especially because Kieran felt the same.

“I’m sorry,” Kieran murmured, looking down into his bowl while his eyebrows drew together in thought.

“It’s alright,” Elrich replied. “Thank you, though, anyway. I do hate the Darkspawn - more than anything. I hate them for destroying beautiful Ferelden land and killing villagers - like your parents. I hate that they’re leaving young people without a family.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” Kieran pointed out with a laugh.

“True.” Elrich spooned some porridge into his own mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m trying my best to be strong, but... it can be hard sometimes. Knowing that I carry the weight of the country on my shoulders, that so many people’s lives are in my hands...” He swallowed hard, glancing down at his bowl with a bitter laugh. “I suppose I shouldn’t be complaining. Things have turned out better for me than they do for most, and with any hope, this should all be over soon so I can...” He cleared his throat. “Settle down once more.”

Kieran winced and hoped Elrich didn’t notice - he had no idea how much longer he would have to wait to do the settling he wanted.

“You’re doing a great job,” Kieran offered quietly, than quickly added, “from what I have seen so far, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Elrich smiled at him. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Just... make sure you don’t lose sight of what is most important.” Kieran let out a gentle sigh, losing himself in his thoughts. “Family. The people you hold dear. They are what you’re protecting, after all.” He frowned. “They are worth more than anything.” 

“That they are,” Elrich replied, then glanced over to where Morrigan’s tent was opening. His eyes lit up, and a hopeful smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Speaking of which... I need to go speak with Morrigan. Excuse me.”

He stood up slowly as he assembled a second bowl of porridge, and when he hurried over to Morrigan and handed it to her, she stared at it for a long, long moment before taking it tentatively from his hands and smiling up at him. A small smile, but a smile nevertheless.

Kieran looked away, ignoring the ache in his heart.

He packed up his own tent, rolled it up, and watched as everyone prepared for the day - Leliana stretching in a warm patch of sunlight, Zevran sharpening his knife with his tongue between his teeth. They looked so normal and calm - Kieran had no idea how they did it. Although, he thought, they didn’t know what was going on in his head either - they probably wouldn’t be able to live with the thoughts and the voices as well as he did.

That made him feel better, at least.

At midday, when the sun was at it’s highest point, they were about to begin ascending a mountain pass towards Orzammar - the first of many, he remembered, having studied the map of the Frostbacks several hundred times - when, suddenly, they heard a guttural roar in the distance and a burst of flames blazed across the path in front of them, leaving melted snow and charred rocks in their wake. 

A dragon. 

No wonder the voices had been so loud. 

Up ahead, everyone drew out their weapons, but Kieran kept back – he had nothing more than a simple dagger Leliana had given him, and he wasn’t sure he could wield it efficiently enough. Wynne, the older mage who came from the Circle of Magi, summoned an ice field to separate the dragon from the group while Leliana notched one of her arrows and aimed it at the creature’s neck.  

It swooped down in front of the group. Alistair and Zevran rushed forward to slash at it, led by Elrich, and Wynne and Leliana attacked from the sidelines while Morrigan watched, creating a dark purple sphere of shifting magic in her hands that she flung at the dragon with unnatural power. It wailed and wailed but did not relent, reaching out to swipe at them again, but Elrich got a hit in before it could hurt any of the party.

Kieran pulled his hood higher up over his head, unsure of what to do. 

Zevran and Alistair continued assaulting the beast’s legs while Elrich slid underneath its stomach, hacking at the dragon’s underbelly which seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dark, heavy scales. Morrigan and Wynne flung balls of spirit magic at it over and over in quick succession, and Leliana aimed her arrows to try and pierce the dragon’s eye – they bounced off like flimsy pieces of metal, but she did not give up. They were shouting at each other over the roaring – directions and suggestions and cries that the others stay safe or be careful – and none of them seemed to notice that Kieran was not joining the effort. If they did, they didn’t notice. 

At one point, deep into the battle, Morrigan hurried to Elrich’s side and casted a shield around him while Wynne tended to his wounds. Though their faces had all been creased with battlehardened lines, when his mother and father looked at each other in fear, Kieran could see a fear there. After Elrich had been healed and stood up on shaky legs to attack the creature again, Morrigan held him back by the arm. When he turned around to look at her, a bolt of lightning came forth from the tip of her staff and struck the beast on the nose. A current of electricity tore through it. 

The dragon let out a guttural cry and reared up on its hind legs, futilely lashing out at the party, but they all stumbled back from its reach before it could land a blow. It squirmed and thrashed in the cold air, claws scraping the rocks on either side for leverage, before it finally slumped down onto the rocky ground, chest heaving as it took one last breath until it lay there, dead. 

A tired cheer echoed through the mountain pass, and the party looked at one another, giving them relieved smiles or grateful pats on the shoulder. 

Except for Elrich and Morrigan, who were hugging tightly. 

Kieran smiled. 

He hadn’t seen that for a long, long time.

That night he lingered in the mouth of his tent like always, pretending to sharpen his dagger while he listened to his parents talk around the fire. 

Well, there wasn’t much talking. They set up camp a few hours after slaying the dragon so everyone could tend to their wounds, and Morrigan never left Elrich’s side while Wynne stitched up the larger ones that Morrigan said she didn’t want to touch. She didn’t leave his side through dinner, either, and now, in the dark of night when neither of them were supposed to still be awake, she held his hand tightly, staring into the fire. 

“What are you doing?” he asked with a laugh, nudging her shoulder with his.  

“Considering whether or not to flay myself alive,” she answered with a slight smirk. 

“Always so dark,” Elrich said, shaking his head while he chuckled. 

Suddenly, Morrigan turned to him, a crease between her eyebrows. “I have something for you,” she said, blinking. 

“What do you mean?” he asked with a grin. 

“I mean that I have a gift for you,” Morrigan said. She reached over to her pouch, where she slid her hand inside while keeping her eyes trained on him, and then fished out a smaller pouch from inside. “’Tis… a ring. Now, before you get any foolish notions, let me explain.” 

Except she said nothing further until Elrich prompted her with a nod of his head.  

“Yes, um… Flemeth once gave me a ring because it allowed her to find me wherever I went, in case I was ever captured by hunters.” She passed it back and forth between her hands. “I disabled its power as soon as we left the Wilds. Recently, however, I thought to change it. Now…” Morrigan glanced up at him. “I will be able to find whoever wears it, instead.” 

Elrich tilted his head, reaching out to place his hands over hers. “That’s a sweet gift,” he said. “Thank you.” 

She blushed. “’Tis not given out of sentimentality,” she said. “I believe you are too important to risk. If you were captured, the ring would allow us to find you quickly.” 

“Does it do anything else?” 

Morrigan pulled it out of the bag and looked at it, squinting slightly. “Flemeth used to say it was a link between us; one that I presumed worked both ways. I never tested it, but I doubt she would have lied over such a thing. So it would mean that I am linked to you as much as you to I.” 

He inched closer, taking it from her gently. “So I could find you, if need be?” 

“I… do not know.” She frowned. “As I said, I never tested it. Perhaps.”  

“I’m glad to know you care,” he told her. 

To Kieran’s surprised, she looked offended. “D-do not read more into it than is there,” she said. “You have supplied me with equipment, certainly this is not very different, is it?” 

“Thank you for the gift, Morrigan,” Elrich replied, placing it in the palm of his hand and curling his fingers tightly around it. 

“You… are welcome,” Morrigan replied, clearing her throat. “Perhaps it will be useful some day.” 

They said very little after that – instead they sat beside each other, arms and legs and shoulders touching like they were connected at the waist. 

Occasionally, Kieran could see his father glancing down at the ring and smiling.  

Elrich retired to his tent first that night, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear before leaving, and just when Kieran thought that perhaps his mother was going to follow, she didn’t. Instead she turned around and frowned at him. 

“Enjoy listening to other people’s conversation, do you?” she asked, stalking over to his tent and looking down at him. 

“No,” Kieran answered, wrinkling his nose. “I respect other people’s privacy.” 

“You don’t fool me,” Morrigan said. Though it was said harshly, Kieran didn’t think it was an accusation. “There’s something you’re not telling everyone else – they have not noticed, but I have. Why are you travelling with us?” 

“I had to,” Kieran replied, staring her down for a moment before shuffling into his tent and closing the entrance tightly behind him. 

He woke up, to his surprise, in his own bed back home with the same woman leaning over him. 

-

“Foolish boy,” Mother was muttering, tucking in his blanket between his bed and the wall. “Foolish, foolish boy.” 

“Mother?” Kieran asked, pushing himself up from the bed. 

Mother glanced over at him and sighed. “How could you scare me like that?” she asked quietly. “You could have frozen half to death, or –“ 

“I’m fine, Mother,” Kieran said. 

“No, you’re not. You nearly have frostbite. Foolish, foolish boy – what will I do with you?” 

“Mother,” Kieran began, “I would like to write father a letter.” 

Mother stopped what she was doing, hesitating for a long moment before turning towards him. “I don’t think that is a good idea,” she replied softly. 

“I want to write him a letter,” Kieran insisted. “I know you don’t want me to be disappointed that he has not returned to us yet, but I won’t be. I’m more disappointed that I haven’t heard from him in several months.” 

“Well, neither have I.” Mother frowned, looking down at her wrinkled hands. “He is far away from here. He’s alive, but I… I fear he might not be for much longer.”  

“He will be.” Kieran drew his chin up. “I know he will be. I can feel it. And I would like to write a letter to him.” 

Mother sighed once more and glanced over at him, and just when he thought she was going to get mad, her lips curved into a wickedly pleased smile. 

“Very well,” she responded. When she moved to stand, Kieran followed, but she waved her hand at him in exasperation. “You stay here,” she said, smiling. “I will bring it to you. You need your rest.” 

“Thank you, Mother,” Kieran said, smiling. “I love you.”  

Mother squinted at him. “Perhaps you hit your head as well.” 

“Mother!”  

“I am just kidding,” she said. “I love you too, you foolish, foolish boy. Now lie down.” 

When Mother left, closing the door softly as to not disturb him, Kieran’s eyes fluttered shut despite himself, and he nestled down beneath the blankets, already thinking about what he would – and definitely should not – write to his father about.

[squadron-of-damned-writes]

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Alistair & Warden (Dragon Age), Loghain Mac Tir & Warden Characters: Warden (Dragon Age), Warden's Mabari (Dragon Age), Alistair (Dragon Age), Loghain Mac Tir, Duncan (Dragon Age), Cailan Theirin, Male Aeducan (Dragon Age), The Author, Other Character Tags to Be Added, Leliana (Dragon Age), Bethany Hawke (briefly), Sten (Dragon Age), Oghren (Dragon Age), Branka (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Gender Issues, Mild Language, Self-Insert, Canon-Typical Violence, Bonding, POV First Person, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Don't copy to another site, Attempt at Humor, False Identity, Canon-Typical Behavior, Isekai, Crime, Vomiting, Alchemy, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Fire, Kidnapping Summary:I am not a big one for self-insert stories. I make an exception for this one, because this one happened to me. How many character-exploring paragraphs do we have to get through to finally to get to the Anvil of the Void? Obligatory Excerpt:

Before us from the ravine towards the distant ceiling of the underground cavern lost under clouds of smoke and haze of lyrium rose... A very shapely shape. It nyoomed around and encircled the large cavern before it perched on a vista looming high above.

It stopped there, so I could see the spindly spiky shape of it. It spread it's large bat-like wings which by my guess of someone who vaguely knew how physics work shouldn't had been able to carry it as gracefully as they just had.

Once it had been a beautiful beast. Before the darkspawn corruption happened. It had the elegance of a knife which rusted, the grandeur of an opulent baroque organs completely eaten through by woodworm, the beauty of richly hybrid tea roses devoured to the root by aphides. The magnificence of an Old God touched by the darkspawn.