#what should have happened at crestwood

[liaragaming]

THEY MIRROR EACH OTHER!!!

"---looked at me as if I somehow mattered more than anything around us."

ANDRASTE BLESS THE CREATOR OF FLY-CAM MODS

[enasamelan]

Honestly, with everything that has happened with dragon age veilguard, im really sad to say a part of me wishes this game had been cancelled.

I trusted weekes to write a great ending for solavellan. I defended the devs on Twitter and got called slurs by antiwoke weirdos for it. I bought into the hype and bought the rooks coffers and the artbook. Now i just feel ill, i wish the game had never been released, and then i could have stayed in my little headcanon bubble. So many writing choices left me just thinking, why?!

Spoilers

I knew there wasn't going to be a happy walk into the sunset type ending for solavellan, and there were things I liked about the ending like solas and lavellan going into the fade to be with each other eternally, really tying back to "in another world"

but some of the other choices I just can't get behind. Mythals' relationship with solas just felt wrong. We're they lovers or mother and child? I can't tell, which is not something anyone should have to say, but either way, it was toxic and manipulative, and it's never brought up or confronted in any meaningful way. They could have used this to highlight the difference between lavellan and mythal. How mythal forced him to change to what she wanted while lavellan loved him for who he was.

Mythal should have been the bad guy who had manipulated and corrupted solas, using his guilt and desire to save the elven people, so that she could have her revenge and to change the world how she saw fit. Have lavellan be the one to reason with him, to finally show him that he was wrong, again. That thedas was worth saving. I know some people (me included) wanted the veil down, but I understood for gameplay reasons that couldn't happen.

They could have finally shown solas loving lavellan from his pov. shown us memories of what he thought of her when he first saw the little mortal with his magic in a cell in haven. What he did after the first flirt, what he thought after the fade kiss or the kiss on the balcony, what happened after crestwood or when he left skyhold or the end of trespesser. show him pining for her, show him watching her dreams from his pov, always running when she reached out for him. Apart from one codex and one piece of dialogue, we aren't given any sign that he misses her. They put more effort into the relationship with mythal than the one with lavellan.

I'm not even going to bring up what happened with varric because honestly I still not ready for it, it was such a terrible writing choice not just to varric but to solas ans the player as well, and a terrible send-off for a beloved character.

So many of the lore reveals were thing that we already suspected and they were given to us so quickly.

Overall, I'm a bit heartbroken, angry, and broke. This is ME3 ending all over again.

[kcwriter-blog]

An Argument in Favor of Solas as the Family Dog

It’s been posited, sometimes facetiously, that Solas was the “family dog” in his younger days. It’s a theory I have been kicking around for a while. If I’m right (and I’m probably not) Solas as the equivalent to the family dog makes a lot of sense – especially when it comes to what he has done in the past and what he plans to do in the future.

My theory is based on the number and positioning of the many Fen’Harel statues found throughout Thedas and in some of the places our Inquisitor travels to in Trespasser. There’s also the odd role wolves seem to play in Elven cuture. Finally, there is Solas’ personality. More under the cut.

We see statues of wolves all over the place but generally they are found in front of ancient Elvhen sites. There are statues at the Temple of Mythal, the Temple of Dirthamon and the grove in Crestwood. I also recently found one near Ghilan’nain’s grove. We see a lot of wolf statues in the Dales (we will get to the Emerald Knight companion thing, presently). Given that Fen’Harel was a rebel in ancient times and the equivalent of the Dalish devil in current day Thedas, what gives? Why all the statues? At the very least they should have been destroyed when he rebelled. It doesn’t make sense.

Let’s look at the positioning of the statues. Invariably we see a reclining wolf placed outside what we’ll call the inner sanctuary. That is, they are always at the front before you go into the place you would pray or make your offerings. It’s not a stretch to believe these statues are guarding the temples. We also see wolf statues placed all over the Vir Dirthara. That’s an even weirder place to see them because Solas implies that he isn’t called Fen’Harel until after his rebellion – so why a statue and why one in a guardian position? We do see howling wolves sometimes. They are mostly seen decorating eluvians. Again, they seem to be guarding or protecting something.

Moving along, we learn about the wolf companions the Emerald Knights have. This is also odd. Why wolves? Fen’Harel is theoretically a Trickster God and responsible for locking up the other gods. Usually, when a culture equates a god with negative attributes, people are wary around the animal representing it. Not in this case. These are guardian wolves and there are statues of them all over the Dales. I don’t think all the statues are of wolf companions. Many of the wolf statues are carved into mountainsides and they are gigantic. It would take a long time to create those without magic. And let’s not forget the statues we see underneath waterfalls in Watcher’s Reach and the Exalted Plains. They should be worn away by the water but aren’t. Watcher’s Reach is an old Elven ruin. Magic presumably keeps them from being worn down. Why? Because Fen’Harel is guarding the Dales.

Fen’Harel as guardian can also be seen in Dalish practice. A statue of Fen’Harel is always placed outside the camp to guard against demons. Given that he is thought of as practically a demon himself, this is again, weird behavior.

The stories we hear about him in Masked Empire are also interesting, particularly the Slow Arrow. In it, a village is beset by a monster. The other gods refuse to help so they turn to Fen’Harel. He answers their prayers by showing up. He realizes he can’t defeat the monster. He is then presented with a hard choice. He can attempt to kill it, even though he knows he will probably die and if that happens so will everyone in the village, or he can do something clever and save some of them. So, he launches the slow arrow. The monster comes, kills the adults but dies before it can kill the children. This is in keeping with Solas’ fairly pragmatic personality. It also illustrates that Fen’Harel, out of all the gods, even Mythal is always willing to come to the aid of the People.

So, what can we make of this? I believe Fen’Harel was and still is tasked with protecting the People. In a sense he fulfills the position of an Aavar hold beast. How did this happen? I’m not sure. Mythal could have called him out of the Fade with the purpose of protecting the People during the war with the Titans. His spirit could have been bound to a giant wolf. In the Deep Roads there is a codex that indicates depictions of Mythal were found alongside those of Fen’Harel. We know spirits can be reborn. If the giant wolf fell in battle, it might have been reborn and placed in an Elvhen body. Was it a body of it’s own or did it share a body in a similar fashion to Anders and Justice?

Solas as guardian of the People fits in other ways. If he wasn’t one of the Evanuris, he would have been part of the inner circle. He has some very nice castles and talks about missing court intrigue. He had status. If he wasn’t one of the Evanuris, serving as their guard dog would give him that status

Also, in the library, the spirits replay the final days of the elves when the Veil goes up. They are shocked that Fen’Harel would do something like this. Why? He’s been rebelling for a while so why the surprise? Maybe because he’s supposed to protect The People, not hurt them.

What could have happened? As the Evanuris became more corrupt they began hurting the People. They enslaved them, used them for experiments, hunted them and sacrificed them. If your purpose is to protect the People, what do you as a spirit do?

We see how Cole is diverted from his purpose as a spirit of Compassion into a spirit who performs mercy killings. He’s not the exact opposite of Compassion but he isn’t fulfilling his purpose either. A spirit with a body seems to be more complex. It’s not so binary. If Solas was a bound spirit, the only way to protect his charges might be to do what he did.

Fast-forward to the present day. He wakes up, sees how his people are treated and feels duty-bound to do what he can to save them. In this case by tearing down the Veil. It could be seen as a compulsion.

I’ve probably missed a ton of other evidence but in my opinion, all signs point to Solas at one time being the Protector of the People whose purpose was then twisted. I’d be interested in knowing what other people think. 

[mythalsknickers]

the religious prompts and solavellan tho....

❝ i begged for a miracle. instead, i got you. ❞

screaming. anyway, happy friday!

Title: A Faded Crestwood Pairing: Solas x Fen'aslan Lavellan Rating: T Word Count: 1146 Author Note: Thank you so much for your prompt, I hope you enjoy this, I have been toying around with my own variation of Crestwood for awhile now. @dadrunkwriting

Adamant Fortress laid in ruins, yet the fade was a comforting embrace on days that took too much from her. Something deep inside her had turned her blood to ice and twisted like a knife between her ribs. Yet, in the fade she was under trees older than the world, and darker than the night sky. Wolves howled in the distance begging for her to hunt. As she focused on the deeper currents of the fade, she could feel him, a certain elven apostate.

The fade rippled but she did not take the plunge to join him, her little corner was warm, it reminded her of something but she could not fully recall it. Vhenan the fade around her shuddered as the word reached her dreams. Opening her eyes she came face to face with the pale blue eyes of Solas. "Vhenan?" she murmured, the fade had changed around them. It had grown colder, a mist had covered the ground and a pair of great harts overlooked the glade, the water she laid in was unnaturally blue. Taking his hand, she rose from the water slowly. "Ma serannas, I did not mean to intrude." A finger found her lips briefly replaced with a slow and tender kiss.

"You are welcome here, Vhenan." His eyes held a tenderness to them she had not seen from him yet, their fingers lacing together as he lead her to the banks. "I called you here to tell you the truth..." Her eyes met his again and her brows knitted as he seemed to be stumbling over the words. "T-the Vallaslin, in ancient times they were used to mark the slaves of nobles and the gods." His lips pursed and she felt his hands tighten, but he was no longer looking at her. Her eyes narrowed for a moment and the temperature around them dipped, ice starting to form on the grass.

"What aren't you telling me Solas, aside from another thing the dalish got wrong?" His grip on her hands tightened and there was a subtle shift in his eyes to the purple that happened when she challenged him. "The dalish did get one thing right, they made you Vhenan..." Her lips thinned as she took a breath, creators or ancestors she needed some strength to deal with this man.

Creators, Sileal was so stubborn. He could never tell her the plans. Her eyes widened as the memory drifted forward, gauze-like curtains and a warm breeze, someone playing a lute in the background as she and Solas stared down eachother. But that couldn't be possible, she born in the Tirashan and Solas was from the north, sure he was older than her but he could not be that old.

"I know a spell that can remove them, Vhenan if you wish." Her eyes focused back on Solas, the gauze-like curtains were gone, and they were back in the misty glade, had he not seen it? Her shoulders dropping. He was not going to tell her, but perhaps..if she agreed to what he wanted he would relent and tell her what he truly had wanted to. "I--" he breath caught as she took a breath. The Eyes of Fen'harel, that was what her Keeper's mentor had called them. They had been responsible for her isolation from her clan, and ultimately sending her to the conclave where she met her Vhenan.

You should not have left Las, we are in the middle of a war. Smoke filled her nose, but hope it burned bright in her chest, shining in her eyes. Her hand reached up to touch a soot and ash covered cheek, trailing into blood matted hair. "You are my Vhenan, Sileal. Just as Sulevin is your second. I go were you both go. I will not let you not feel my light because you fear what will happen!"

"I--I will agree, if you tell me what is really going on Solas." His eyes too had seemed distant for a moment before they refocused on her. For a moment they were knitted in confusion as if he was puzzling out what he just saw, was it something about her or had he like her witnessed a memory of the fade. Something was untangling deep in her. "Very well Vhenan." He sighed reluctantly taking her down to the ground pulling her into a slow and deliberate kiss.

His hands glowed a dim blue, coolness washed over her face, for a moment he looked as if tears where forming. "Ar lasa mala revas..." As the magic faded her head began to pound. Her face bare as her eyes wanted.

Three wolf pelts, blood spilling across a golden dais, chaos cutting celebration short, a pair of hands pulling her from the two she needed to be with. Las! he had screamed for her. Da'len you must sacrifice for the good of the people. The voice she had heard in her mind thousands of times as she was put into an uthenera chamber, fighting and struggling, tears streaming from her eyes. You will be bound to the wolf, and when the time is right you will know all.

"Vh--Fen'aslan!" Her eyes focused on him, raw and full of tears as she cradled her head. "Vhenan?" His voice softer as he gently removed her hands. "You must harden yourself--"

"NO SILEAL!" The words left her lips and Solas stumbled back, his eyes widening, tears forming in his eyes as they shifted more towards the true blue. "The Evanuris asked for a miracle!" The temperature plummeted as the lake began to freeze her screams turning to howls. "Instead they got us! They tortured us!" Sobs wracked her body, tears freezing to her cheeks.

"Vhenan..." there was a pause as he stood slowly creeping into the field of ice around her. "Las... Vhenan is it truly?" his voice sounded like a prayer, another sob tore through the clearing. His chest tightened as he reached out to touch her face. What had they done to her. Despair had long sank claws into her during the war but for it to have twisted. The wind and ice stilled as his fingers brushed away icy tears. "Las..." he murmured again. He pulled on the memory, hope filling scared and tired voices, the burning hope of seeing a fortress in the middle of the mountains. "You are hope, Vhenan."

The ice began to melt from the grass, the sobs continued, her body collapsing into the damp grass. "Sileal why?" His throat tightened as he pulled her into his arms, a millennia of her being gone that faithful night the best of them was taken. True names left their lips, the binding to say the names given to them by their friend gone. "They killed her Las...and I b--broke the world." Her head buried into his shoulder as the both cried.

[mrs-gauche]

...and also the only time that Solas of all people, is completely speechless, for once at a loss for words in response to an irrefutable argument.

Throughout the whole game (with a few exceptions in which he actually admits to having misjudged), whenever you get the chance to debate him on something you do not agree on, Solas, Mr “I’m a trillion years old, you know nothing, so listen carefully” will practically verbally jiu-jitsu you for every possible argument you might have, like, he’s an absolute master at playing Ace Attorney refuting any of your points, much like playing mind chess with Iron Bull, there is no chance to win an argument with Solas if he’s determined to have you recognize the flaw in your logic or at least understand his perspective, making you feel like this gif at the end of every debate.

But when Lavellan says “I would have had you trust me”, finally, there is no counter argument, no clever comeback, no objection... He has nothing. Because Lavellan is right and he knows. There’s just silence until he turns around and continues with the rest of the dialogue. And I think it’s interesting how this is kinda the culmination of all the little hints throughout the whole game at his ingrained distrust, leading up to this moment.

“An enemy can attack you, but only an ally can betray you. Betrayal is always worse.”

"The next time you have to mourn, you don't need to be alone." “It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“That’s when you should lean on your friends.” “Apologies, Inquisitor. I have learned not to do that.”

“I’ll rely on those I trust.” "You think to share your power, to avoid the temptation to misuse it. A noble sentiment... but, ultimately, a mistake." (...) "Because while one selfless man may walk away from the lure of power's corruption... no group has ever done so."

“You created a powerful organization, and now it suffers the inevitable fate of such. Betrayal and corruption.”

"I trust my friends." "I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory."

“She was betrayed as I was betrayed. As the world was betrayed!” - Flemeth about Mythal

You get the sense that him witnessing Mythal being betrayed and murdered by the Evanuris was probably the catalyst for his immense trust issues, so much so that it still has that big of an impact on him centuries later. And of course it has, when 1) it was this batrayal and power corruption that set everything in motion, it almost lead to the end of the entire world, which in turn lead to the creation of the Veil and finally the loss of his world and his people, 2) he has spent the last 1000 years walking the Fade, having to look at the ever present Black City in its center - their prison - as a constant reminder of what happened. (I know it’s not confirmed yet, but come on! 😂)

And then there is Lavellan (or any high approval Inquisitor for that matter) at the end of all this. Who proved him wrong with every action throughout DAI. Who has shown wisdom in their decisions and that the power they were given mustn’t corrupt them. That there is no reason for him not to trust them. And yet, he simply can’t, because the past still haunts him and centuries of history have taught him otherwise (and like a bunch of other reasons for him to not tell Lavellan the truth in that moment in Crestwood, but that’s beside the point here lol). 

And then at the end of Trespasser, Lavellan finally throws it straight to his face, and while he could pull any of the excuses listed above, he simply can’t refute them anymore. Look at his expression as he just looks at them in response, at first still frowning for a second, as if he’s still about to argue them again, but then suddenly shifting into sorrow, slightly shaking his head in defeat. “I got nothing.” Solas, who easily managed to own you in any debate prior to this, is all out of arguments. It’s the final argument and the Inquisitor won.

(Well, technically, it even happens twice in this final conversation, if we’re counting Solas’ internal debate with himself. lol)

"We aren't even people to you." "Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong."

But going back to his distrust, it surely can’t be a coincidence that this whole issue was also topic in a recent interview with DA4′s Creative Director, talking about what defines a hero.

I’ve talked about this numerous times now, like here, here or here, but what it all comes down to is basically just one more penny for the “Solas needs to learn how to trust again in order to be saved from himself” jar. lol

“We will save our friend from himself… if we can.”

Like. It’s literally his name. Pride. Saving Solas from himself does quite literally mean to strip him off his name and the belief that, to quote John Epler again, “only he has the answers, that he is the only one who can solve this” and to accept the help of others. Which is why he has to get a new name by the end of all this. I’m dying on that hill. 😂

[faded-mage]

Solas

Thirteen days. It had been thirteen days since he brought Avise to Crestwood. Where he forced himself to untangle his heart from hers. It didn’t work. He ached each time he saw her face. She rarely spoke to him but he did not blame her. What he felt mirrored her own feelings, so he knew she was breaking inside with each moment and he felt guilt overwhelm him. He never should have allowed himself to dream of a happy ending. It was not fair to her. Avise tried once, about a week ago to talk to him about what happened. Solas had to keep his gaze away from her, staring at the tome she dropped on his desk with the tunic he left in her chambers on top. She sounded strong when they spoke but there was a waver in her voice and he knew she was pushing it down like he was, “You really don’t let anybody see under that polite mask you wear, do you?” Solas frowned and his chest hurt, “You saw more than most.” And it was true. He showed her a hidden part of himself that never was fully free. It was only drawn out by her light and now it was back in the shadows where it belonged. He didn’t deserve to stand in the light anyway.

Since then she rarely took him in the field. However she did allow him to come on a trip to the desert. He was confident the invitation was her punishing him in some way but he wanted her to grieve as she needed to. Solas had been at camp that day hiding in his tent due to the scalding sun. It allowed him little time to keep his mind busy so sitting with his thoughts was excruciating. But that was his punishment right? The apostate could not help but look at her longingly anytime she turned away from him, his heart shattering to pieces with each passing moment. All he wanted to do was rush to her, apologize and tell the truth about everything. How could he explain? She was his nas’falon, the other half to his broken and shattered spirit. He couldn’t drag her along his path that only ended in suffering and pain. It tore him up inside but he had to push through it.

Night had just fallen and there was panicked shouting from outside the tents, the elf poking his head out once he heard them. The shouts sounded distinctly like Bull’s rumbling voice and Solas was not sure he ever heard the qunari sound so distraught. Silhouetted by the moon he saw Bull running towards the camp with someone thrown over his shoulder, Varric and Dorian running behind him in the sand. It took only moments for Solas to realize it was Avise on Bull’s shoulder and she was not moving. A flurry of activity hit the campsite as the party reached the fire. The qunari gently placing Avise on a bedroll. The Inquisitor’s armor on her right arm was torn to shreds, some sort of claw or teeth marks from what Solas could tell by the dim firelight. His stomach tightened as he realized her armor was not normally black. That the black mark down her right side was her blood soaking the cloth and leather. There was so much of it. She was unconscious. Bull lightly tapped her cheek, “Boss! Boss!” Trying to get the elf to move, to groan to do something. Varric began to pace behind them, “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit” only swearing over and over until his arms flared upwards and he yelled at the qunari, “Why did you convince her to go after the dragon?”

Solas felt his blood run cold, “You went after a dragon? I thought you were supposed to be doing reconnaissance?” His voice tight as he spoke, the longer Avise didn’t move the more fear settled in his stomach. Dorian glared at the mage, redirecting his fear into anger towards the elf. “You of all people do not get to worry about her.” Varric narrowly grabbing Dorian’s arm and pulling him back from stepping closer towards the apostate. Solas raised his own voice, unable to control himself, “Of course I worry about her. Just because we are no longer together does not mean I do not lo… care for her!” He almost slipped but it was enough that Dorian’s anger flared again, the Tevinter frowning at him, “You have a funny way of showing love, elf.” If it weren’t for Varric stepping between the two mages, Solas was relatively convinced it would have come to blows between the two mages. He may have regretted it… eventually. Solas did love her, truly and in a way he could never describe to another soul but life was never that simple, not for him.

Avise’s voice filtered through the campsite, a groan escaping her lips. “Shut up. Both of you. Dorian can you heal me?” Her teeth gritting through the pain in her shoulder, trying to remove herself from Bull’s hovering grasp. Solas moved forward, he was a far better healer than Dorian but he soon realized she hadn’t let him touch her since Crestwood. She would rather be in pain and get healing from the necromancer. Dorian stared at Avise with similar thoughts drifting over his face as her words registered. He knelt next to her and Solas heard the man trying to convince her to allow him to heal her. In a hushed whisper, “I know you are mad at him, Avi. I truly understand and he deserves nothing but your anger but he is the best one to heal you. I cannot watch you in pain like this.” He watched as Avise grabbed Dorian by the shoulder to help pull herself up so she could sit up, “Fine” her tone biting. With her left hand she unbuckled the leather armor, it dropping onto the bedroll behind her. Avise refused to look at him, Dorian reaching out to unbutton the cloth under the leather armor and strip the tattered and bloodstained fabric from her skin. He removed enough fabric and leather that she was now in her breast band so Solas had room to work.

She turned her head away from Solas as healing spells crept from his palms. He did his best not to touch her directly, trying to at least listen to her unspoken request. Being that close was difficult. He could still smell cinnamon through the overwhelming scent of blood and ash. Avise’s magic rolled over her skin and he could taste it with his own magic and it felt like home. Her body shook visibly, Dorian moved his hands to hold her up so she could wipe her eyes with her free hand. She was crying, trying to hold back the tears was what caused her body to shake. Dorian rested his forehead against Avise’s as they spoke amongst themselves, the mage trying to distract her. Solas could hear their words, her voice quiet and shaking, “Why couldn’t you just let me die?” Her whisper holding an incredible amount of pain in her words. “I am so tired Dorian. So fucking tired every little thing.” Avise’s head bowed, her hair falling in her face. It took every ounce of restraint Solas had not to say something, to try and comfort her. He knew it was not just him, not just them that caused the ache in her. Everything that happened to her since the Breach had been a catastrophic event. Even one of those moments being more than any single person could handle in a lifetime but she took them all, shouldering it all at once. It seemed like her fire, the one he had seen when she awoke in Haven started to flicker and fade out.

Dorian grabbed her by the face, turning her towards him. Solas could see he wiped away her tears, just as Solas wished he could do. “Never say that, Avi. You are the only true friend I have ever had in my life. You are the strongest person I know. I will stand beside you no matter what happens.” The mage kissed Avise on the forehead, her shaking began to slow and Solas was almost done. The rips in her shoulder and the burns were clean enough that the skin stitched together quickly, there would barely be any scars. Dorian’s tone turned joking, “If only you were a man, my dear. But I love you in every other way except for that one.” A soft chuckle came from Avise, through her tears, “Ar lath ma, Dorian. You have never let me down.” Solas’ heart only ached.

- - -

The night grew quiet after Avise was healed properly and Solas found himself once again in the tent alone. Dorian and Varric used the excuse that they wanted to keep an eye on Avise after her tussle with the dragon. Solas knew better. Dorian only looked at him with disdain for the past two weeks, Varric was pleasant enough but after losing Hawke the dwarf was particularly protective over Avise now. So for Solas to be the one to break her heart as he did, the dwarf was professional at best. He hadn’t heard the nickname Chuckles since. Bull at least was unabashedly honest with him. Once Avise was settled in her tent with Varric and Dorian pretending to be caretakers, Bull looked at the elf solemnly. “I can see it in your face, Solas. There’s something about her in that head of yours but you’re hiding something big. I didn’t care really, not before. You made the boss happy and I thought hey, whatever we all got shit to hide. But now that you fucked it up on yourself, I’m gonna work with you but I’m probably not gonna like you.” It was fair and Solas nodded, “I do not like myself either these days. I understand.”

Without anything else to do but lay in his guilt, it caused his stomach to knot. He was so angry. Mostly with himself. There were so many points in his history, that if he had said no then he would not be there today. If he told Mythal no in taking a physical body. If he told Mythal no to sundering the Titans from their dreams. He tried to tell her no by sparking a rebellion against the Evanuris, even though she stood against him. All of that cumulated in the murder of Mythal, the creation of the Veil and the destruction of the elves. It could have been avoided if he just knew how to say no.

Resentment built up the longer he considered his own actions in the past and how they all seemed to revolve around one person - Mythal. He simultaneously loved her and hated her. He was bound to her even still and the fact only created more resentment. She could have released him long before any of it happened and he could have been happy. Not tied to duty.

The other part of his mind settled on one fact he knew. If none of that happened, he never would have met Avise Lavellan. Even with the pain he felt in his own heart now, he would rather feel this pain then to have never known her at all. Their time together was worth every fleeting second but he wished more than anything that his selfishness didn’t have to cause her the same pain. He couldn’t allow himself to hope for an after to everything. Solas allowed himself to sink into his guilt, his regret and remind himself that if he had to give her up then he better complete his task because if he could not have her beside him then it all needed to mean something.

[shivunin]

Petal-Crowned

Borrowing the lovely @greypetrel's Aisling for this piece! I adore Arja and Aisling both and I also think they would be good friends and good for each other. When I saw her absolutely gorgeous piece of Elowen and Aisling, I couldn't help but want to write a piece to fit it. So---here is my contribution. Thank you, as always, for your friendship and for letting me borrow your baby!

(Recommended listening)

(Elowen & Aisling Lavellan | 874 Words | No Warnings)

"yet here’s eglantine, Here’s ivy!— take them, as I used to do Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine. Instruct thine eyes to keep their colours true, And tell thy soul, their roots are left in mine." ---Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "Sonnets from the Portuguese 44..."

The sun was warm, the air was sweet, and half the meadow’s flowers clung to Elowen’s hair. She felt as if she was half-dreaming here amongst the soft grasses and bright colors of this glade, but she knew that she was not. Perhaps the beauty of this place only felt dream-like because things had been so miserable for so long that beautiful and nice things must feel, by some token, somewhat dream-like.

Thoughts better not to dwell on, she supposed.

“When do you think the others are coming back?” she called to Aisling, who was wandering some distance away, judging by the rustling of her feet through the flowers. 

“Hmmm,” Aisling said. “I’m not sure. But look!”

Elowen looked, fingers still busy on the twined flowers in her lap. Triumphant, Aisling held an elfroot plant in the air, dark earth still clinging to its roots. 

“I’m going to bring it back to Skyhold,” she announced, beaming at the slender stalk. “I know just where to plant it.”

“It’s perfect,” Elowen agreed, taking in the slight woodiness of the stem, the healthy green of the leaves. It was easy to plant elfroot seeds, but much more difficult to transplant an existing specimen. For all that it seemed to grow all over Thedas, the plant did not take well to being uprooted. 

If anyone could coax it to take to a new home, Elowen was certain it would be Aisling. 

“Do you want any more of this or should I put it away?” she asked while her friend carefully bundled the plant away. 

Aisling glanced at the saddle blanket they sat on, which also held the open pack and the scattered remnants of their lunch. The cheese was nestled under an active ice spell (Aisling’s contribution; Elowen had never been good with frost magic) and the bread had been set neatly aside where it could avoid any potential dampness. The remaining fruit, purchased from the nearby and very grateful residents of Crestwood, was nestled in an open satchel. 

“Hmm,” Elowen’s friend said. “We can leave it. There’s time to have more later.”

Elowen made a soft noise of assent and turned back to the half-made chain of flowers in her lap. It took a little deftness to do this without losing anything crucial. Petals wanted badly to fall off once the flower had been plucked, and if she was not careful she would wind up with fingers stained green and a chain of battered stems. 

After a time, Aisling sat behind her, back pressed to Elowen’s. Elowen made little progress, half-dozing in the dappled sunlight, and for once she did not blame herself for it. It would have felt silly to hold herself to such deadlines and pressures here. This place was far too comfortable to bring herself to care. 

“Elowen?” 

“Hm?” she roused slightly, eyes heavy, and almost fell backward when Aisling moved away from her. 

“Here!” Aisling said while Elowen steadied herself, “I picked the ones that seemed to fit. See—the green of the leaves here match your vallaslin precisely.”

It took her a moment to comprehend what was happening, fingers still tangled in the chain she’d begun to weave, the sunlight almost too bright now that she’d opened her eyes again. But—while she had rested, her friend had made something beautiful and bright. It hung from her pale fingers now as Aisling held it out: purple and yellow and white against green leaves that—yes, actually would match Elowen’s vallaslin when they weren’t in direct sunlight. The petals of the pansies looked unimaginably soft, velvet-sheened in the sunlight. Aisling grinned at her, smile just as bright as the sunshine in the meadow.

“I think it suits you,” she said. Elowen smiled as the little crown settled over her head and Aisling leaned forward to kiss her cheek. 

What a gift this was. A gift—to have the easy company of a good friend, to sit in the sunlight and smell the flowers. A gift, to be safe and full and cared for

“Thank you,” she murmured when Aisling rocked back onto her heels. Aisling clapped her hands together, eyes fixed on the ring of flowers atop Elowen’s head. 

“It’s perfect!” she said, grinning. 

Elowen leaned forward and pressed her lips to her friend’s cheek in turn, sun-warm and soft as it was. 

“It is,” she agreed, and turned her attention back to her lap. “Perfect. It’s beautiful work, truly.”

Forget-me-nots still clung softly to her fingers as she wove a lily into its place near the center. What a pleasure it would be to give her friend the joy she’d been given. How remarkable, to offer something simple and good to someone she cared for. 

Behind her, Aisling began to speak again, describing a mishap with her dear horse and a thorny bush. Her voice had a pleasant cadence, rising and falling like a friendly and familiar tune. The bees hummed nearby, drifting from flower to flower. Soft breezes brushed past stems and leaves and bobbing blossoms. Sparse clouds drifted between them and the sun, never obscuring the light for too long. 

Elowen listened and found herself glad beyond measuring to simply be herself at this precise place and time. Smiling faintly at the sound of her friend’s voice, she lifted her fingers and wove on.

[deusexlachina]

STEMquisition Part 6: Aveline continues to not be a Grey Warden

In which I meet a blast from the past!

Seeing that our enemy is a darkspawn, the Grey Wardens would be the obvious choice to help out...but they're missing. Something has happened to every single Grey Warden. And we don't know what, because the Grey Wardens are a secretive order. We'd need someone affiliated with the Grey Wardens who is absolutely not a Grey Warden. But where could we possibly find someone like that? Suddenly, Varric has an idea.

He introduces me to his old friend "Hawke," insisting on using the surname. It's...it's awkward. Having failed to slay Corypheus before despite mangling him with an axe, Hawke knows we'll need help. She sets me up with another guy, Stroud, who's like her sister's Grey Warden dad. It's awkward. Wait, didn't we establish that all Grey Wardens were MIA? Well...not this guy. He's special or something.

To help with my search for Stroud, I finally recruit Blackwall, having minimized quest completion in order to reach Skyhold at level 5. He knows the Grey Wardens had nothing to do with Corypheus (who is a darkspawn who was kept in a Grey Warden prison and who successfully mind-controlled Grey Wardens), but MAYBE THEY SHOULD.

Hawke reveals that Stroud is all the way in Crestwood, which was previously inaccessible because nobody would ever travel to Crestwood unless the fate of the world depended on it. The other Grey Wardens are looking for Stroud, but they can't find him because he's...in a cave? Okay. I guess they didn't look very hard. He tells me about dark research into a ritual to stop Blights forever.

He explains that the Wardens are desperate enough to turn to demon science because they all hear the Calling at once, i.e. they think they're all going to die very soon. He hears it too, but resists it I guess. Thankfully, this thing that affects all Grey Wardens doesn't affect Blackwall at all. He does not fear the Calling. Skill issue.

We hurry to the Western Approach to stop this ritual, but arrive too late, because the Western Approach is on THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FUCKING CONTINENT. The Wardens' eyelashes are already possessed by demons.

The villain behind this, Magister Erimond of Tevinter (because it's always Tevinter, the fuckers), has a special magical attack to deal with me. I don't really know what it was meant to be because I immediately zap him with my hand, ragdolling him. "Cries out in surprise." Even the closed captioning is embarrassing.

Erimond decides He Will Not Fall Here, so I have to chase him all the way down to Adamant Fortress.

[inquisimer]

there's a fire in my heart, darling (but I'm not burning for you)

For @febuwhump day 16 (i'm still on track let's gooooooo), an alternate prompt of "last words". Some solavellan angst immediately after the final battle with Corypheus.

read it on ao3 here

Female Lavellan/Solas | Rated G | 779 words | CW: abandonment, hurt no comfort, unresolved emotional tension

-

Adrenaline still shook her arms as she stared down at the broken pieces of the orb. It no longer glowed or hummed with energy; as much a husk as the crumbling, Blighted corpse of Corypheus now floating in the Fade.

Her ears rang with the echoes of battle that raged on beyond this strange place of stasis. Somewhere out there her soldiers continued the fight, the resistance, not knowing the field was won. The day, the hour of victory, belonged to the Inquisition.

It felt completely hollow.

The orb clattered as it fell from Irosyl’s hands. She staggered, looking for Varric, or Cassandra, or—

Solas.

He knelt, mindless of the bleeding wound on his temple, and retrieved the shattered orb. Its wreckage was mirrored in his face.

“The orb,” he whispered.

“Solas?” Her voice was smoke-rough and cracked and it bounced off the shroud of his devastation. Against her better judgment, she drew closer and knelt beside him. When she laid her hand on his shoulder, he went incredibly, precisely still.

“Vhenan, ir abelas.” The endearment slid back onto her tongue as if it had never left. As if he’d never taken it from her. “I know you wanted the orb saved. But Corypheus…”

“It is not your fault.”

She winced. Her hand fell back to her side as he stood, leaving the shattered orb on the ground. Irosyl stared down at it so she would not have to see his disappointment or feel it press into her mind.

“Shouldn’t we…bring the pieces? Dagna might be able to…”

“That would not recover what has been lost.”

No, it wouldn’t. But nothing would—he’d made that abundantly clear. Her teeth tore into her tongue as she killed a scream in her throat. The past mattered, yes. Their People mattered yes. But they were here. They were now.

She was now. And he refused to just…see her.

With the steely will that had seen her through the shemlen chaos of the past year, Irosyl opened her eyes. Solas’ gaze pierced her, whatever sorrow he felt already masked behind that infuriating neutrality. Not even a micro-expression for her to gauge.

“Well? What now?”

Solas clasped his hands at the small of his back. Infuriating, Irosyl thought again. Corypheus was dead, they should be celebrating, shouting their joyous relief to the sky. She wanted to kiss that pensive twist out of his lips. Instead, a frown crumpled his brow. “It was…not supposed to happen this way.”

“You don’t say.”

“You are right to be angry.”

“I’m not angry.” Not quite a lie, but she could hear the catch in her voice. Not quite the truth, either.

“You should be. Inquisitor, I—“

“Don’t—please, don’t.” She could no longer hold herself back and she grasped his shoulders, begging. “I have a name. You knew how to use it, once.”

“Inquisitor,” he repeated. Icy resignation crept back over her, a dead, wet thing that had followed her since Crestwood. She dropped her hands and stepped back.

“My apologies,” she said stiffly. “You were saying?”

He huffed. “It will ring hollow, now, but it is no less true. Remember that, someday.”

He looked at her like an expectant hahren until she jerked a single, stiff nod. When he continued, the sudden earnestness in his voice caught her off guard.

“No matter what comes—I want you to know what we had was real.”

Creators’ audacity—she couldn’t believe him! She blinked once, twice—and slapped him across the face.

“Dread Wolf take you,” she hissed. “How fucking dare you—“

The effects of the battle caught up with her as emotion surged, made her heart pound and her vision narrow on his stupid, dreadful, beautiful face. Irosyl staggered forward, unsure of her intent. But Solas caught her. He easily gripped her wrists in one hand and brought the other to cup her face with a tenderness he was no longer allowed.

She bared her teeth at him, the anger she denied rearing its ugly head.

“Remember, someday,” he repeated. As she strained against his hold, his lips formed the words: ar lath ma. But he did not speak them and, whatever he said, she knew there was no way he meant them.

He placed a feather light kiss to her forehead, then smoothed the furrowed skin with his thumb.

“You bastard—“

A bolt of arcane energy zapped into her mind and as she fought the futile battle for consciousness, she knew: when she woke, he would be gone. For good, this time.

The darkness consumed her, and she let go. Of him, of them, of whatever chance they had.

She let it all go.

[rosirinoa]

Linger pt. 3

After

That night, leaving Ellana in Crestwood required all of Solas’ willpower, and if he had lingered next to her for another moment, if he’d let her touch him just once more… he would probably have let everything go and give in into his feelings for her.

                Ever since that night, he knew nothing would be the same. It was the point of no return and he should keep his distance from the inquisitor. And so it was for a few days, until a last-minute expedition came up, and the ones that would go with the choosen of Andraste were Dorian, the Iron Bull and Solas, who was true to his word and would continue helping her prepare for the final battle against Corypheus, despite how painful and difficult it could be. And it was.

                A group of Venatori ambushed the party on their way to Adamant fortress, leaving them rather injured, with no potions and barely able to move around. Without a second thought, Dorian hurried to assist the now Tal-Vashoth, with whom he appeared to have a more than friendly relationship for a couple weeks now. The situation, left Ellana and her warrior strength wit no other choice but to help Solas walk.

And so, they both allowed themselves to linger so close to each other for one last time, having the perfect excuse to touch once again. The mage’s arm around the girl’s shoulder, while she held him by the waist to have a better grip, in case he was about to fall; his leg was injured and he seemed quite weak.

                As if it was a silent agreement between the two of them, they slowly walked towards the inquisition camp, stretching time as much as they could and prolonging their contact as if it was their las moment together. Ellana enjoyed Solas’ scent, which reminded her of her childhood spent in the woods, but also of the kisses they shared. Meanwhile, he enjoyed feeling her in his arms once again. When they arrived to the camp, they might have lingered like that more than necessary; the inquisitor insisted on taking him to the medical tent, and he didn’t argue.

Dorian was the first one who noticed the sudden change of attitude when both elves’ exchanged gazes. The inquisitor began to avoid walking through the rotunda where Solas usually was, and when she did, they greeted each other with a rather cold demeanor. Both of their glances seemed sad. When she turned her back or when she wasn’t looking, the mage’s eyes lingered on Ellana with nostalgia and longing countenance. Sometimes, it seemed as if the tears that were about to fall from her eyes would remain there forever. As the good friend Dorian was, more often than not, he tried to take her for a walk or sometimes to the tavern in Skyhold, but not before throwing a disproving look towards the elven mage, who was causing the inquisitor so much pain.

Solas’ thoughts were almost a nightmare during those final days. He felt guilty for letting his feelings and desire take over him, and the bitterness that his plans brought along, made his heart harden and his words cold, so methodic and distant when he spoke with the inquisitor, trying not to use her name, much less call her vhenan, to set distance between them.

Uncertainty began to invade Ellana’s mind, without knowing what would happen after defeating Corypheus, what might come next or any future plans. She was still in love with Solas, and she knew he shared her feelings, even though he was good at hiding them, but there was something she could never decipher, at least not in that moment. And it must be something so but and important that would make him end it all and walk away like he did.

Solas became distant, but he also began to frequent Skyhold’s tavern at night to have supper. He only shared the inquisitor’s table when other companions were around, and Cole used to be their secret accomplice when they lingered for a little while after dinner, even when the rest of their friends already left. The lad used his abilities to get into their minds and discovered that, if he was still there, they would have a valid excuse to stay together for a little while. Nevertheless, those nights always came to an end when either Cole or someone else retired for the night, and wo Solas and Ellana’s glances crossed for one last time, their presence wouldn’t linger more than necessary.

They silently said goodbye and one last thought lingered on their minds and hearts: maybe in another world…

Author’s note: This is the final parto of this fanfic. Sorry it took so long to upload the final chapter, I had so many things to finish at work, my studies, and then took a small vacation. But not it’s done. I hope you liked it.

I enjoy the Solavellan romance so muc, even if it break my heart everytime I play the game. There’s just something really appealing to it, and... well, I suppose you feel the same if you’re reading this.

Once again, thanks for reading.

[kinlochs]

❝ these calamitous times bring out the worst in people. ❞ | from tristan!

All of this time spent in Crestwood only to find evil at the very heart of it. Maybe they should have known that something was going on. The flooding of Old Crestwood and all of the blighted that had been trapped there...

And Cassian wondered where he had been when it happened. True, their party had only touched a handful of places, but Crestwood had not been one of them. Lothering had fallen, too, soon after they had left, in fact. The Warden-Commander knew that he could not dwell on such possibilities, but--was it so terrible if he did? What could they have done differently?

"If one thing in times of crises were true, then that has proven itself over and over again," Cassian tells Tristan. Mayor Dedrick's confession of his deeds laid in plain sight upon the desk. It was as if the letter itself emanated an evil, dark energy. How a man of his stature carried such weight with him for years, Cassian could not fathom.

"I do not think it would be prudent to tell the other villagers. They are better off without the truth. I believe it would keep them up at night, thinking of their loved ones fallen to Dedrick."

[kirkw4ll-a]

sometimes solas was... overwhelming. it wasn't his fault but hers, she was sure. her past haunted her in ways that sometimes she didn't recognize until the ghosts were staring her in the face. she was thinking of anders today. she wondered if she would like crestwood or if the mayor's deeds would fill him with such a rage that it would burn him from the inside.

she listened with bated breath and a surprising amount of attention -- but what he was saying was INTERESTING and, more than that, she couldn't help but wish that he had been around during kirkwall. if solas had been there, would anders have turned out differently? could they have connected on a level that hawke could never DREAM of? she heard his question and her brow furrowed, gaze moving from his frame to the path ahead.

"i feel -- regret," came her honest admission, a familiar ache finding its way into her heart. she remembered the explosion, remembering his empty expression and gaunt features. she remembered varric's nervousness in the months before it happened. she should have seen it coming. she should have BEEN there for him. "it must be selfish of me, i suppose -- to think i helped in twisting the spirit within him. but i think it was kirkwall. a spirit of justice trying to exist in a city that had little to none... it must have been impossible to bear." even though she tried. MAKER, how she tried.

"tell me, solas -- or don't. i can understand if my many questions might be grating. my mother always said i was too curious for my own good, always asking WHY. but... if a spirit is twisted... are there ways to soothe it? to help it back into its original form?"

His expression was carefully neutral as she walked through her question, his own footfalls light on the relentless mud they trudged through. "In the case of a possession, as you describe, the longer a spirit and a host share a body, the more each influences the other until you cannot separate their motivations.

"Remember that a spirit is a manifestation of a single emotion, and it is drawn to people who strongly exhibit that emotion. A woman of purpose will attract a spirit of purpose, and a man of faith will attract a spirit of faith. But neither the woman nor the man are a creature of that singular emotion. A spirit struggles to reconcile that with its own nature. It tries to find more of itself in the host's myriad emotions - finding purpose or faith in hunger, love, and fear - but by doing so, both the spirit and its host are fundamentally changed.

"When you think of your friend, what do you feel?" Solas asked. "Is it as simple as one emotion, or is it more complicated? If what you feel is primarily anger, for example, a spirit would reflect that onto the rest of your emotions, be they love, sorrow, etc. The stronger the governing emotion, the more the spirit will struggle with anything beyond that as it tries to make sense of the world. It is…overwhelming to the point of breaking.”

[roseategales]

i’ve decided that isera DOES romance solas but i’m gonna make it canon divergent as hell

[lairofdragonagelore]

Crestwood: Flooded Caves

The village of Crestwood was hit hard by the darkspawn during the Fifth Blight. Many refugees from the south tried to find shelter in Crestwood, however some of them were carrying the blight disease and were infecting others. The diseased were moved to the caves beneath the town. When the invading darkspawn arrived and surrounded most of the valley, Mayor Gregory Dedrick decided to open the dam and flood the village, killing the darkspawn, and any remaining villagers inside, to save the lives of everyone else.

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

Once the zone has been drained, we have access to the Old Crestwood; several  statues of the Dwarf with long limbs surround the village. This is a very curious detail, specially if we think that below this city there are dwarven ruins. In previous posts I had concluded that these statues were pointers or markers. Maybe in this case they are pointing that this area is where a dwarven ruin entrance exists. Now, one also wonders why don’t they show the typical statue of the generic paragon holding a hammer over his head. These probably were the markers done by the Avvar or alamarri. Or maybe these are a group of dwarves related to the Avvar and independent of Orzammar’s. We need to remember that both groups [Avvar or alamarri] had deep relationships with the dwarves to the point to produce offspring, something we never saw dorectly in DA games. Only in tales of the past Dwarves and humans mix.

We can find the old house of the Mayor where we discover that the one who flooded the town was him in order to prevent the spread of the Blight.

In a falling apart house we find a Spirit of Command who wants us to kill a rage demon. For that, we need to access to the lower caves of the village.

To complete this task, we head to a gate we find in a corner of the village that sends us down into the deep caves. Here it’s where we can see bodies and remnants of what happened ten years ago: people who had taken refuge in these caves died when the water raised.

Walking further, we discover that this underground contains Dwarven ruins.

At the end of the exploration, we find the rage demon, probably fed by all the rage that this flood caused in the victims ten years ago. This place where we fight the demon has columns decorated with  dwarven sarcophagus lids.

In particular, and one of the most surprising elements I found in Crestwood, is this pair of strange sculptures that we only saw in two other places: in DA2 in the Primeval Thaig [check Primeval Thaig and Red Lyrium ], and then in the Descend, in a chamber where they are accompanied with Claws of Dumat.

This place seemed to be important, since it is decorated in this fashion. It’s even present in the book of Art of Inquisition [with the presence of a head in between the columns that we never saw before.

If one is careless, they can be mistakes for Claws of Dumat, but they are not. They share the same style than the claws: they are Tevinter, with a bird-like or dragon-like shape to it. In my opinion, they look like a Tevinter translation of the elven representation of the Dragon Myhtal statue.

Later on, I found a plaque close to this place, in a locked room, that seemed to imply this was a route that connected Aeducan Thaig with Gundaar Thaig [another famous Thaig, and one of the first in falling under the darkspawn threat]

This place, aside from those strange Tevinter-like statues, is filled with elements of Dwarven art: chairs, banners, table, rugs, statues, elven-tree-like statue in Dwarvish style, etc.

At the background of this chamber, we find the standard dwarven sarcophagus, the usual dwarven table, and an elven artefact.

When the breach in the lake is closed, the whole region looks much better and brighter [I know, I should have done the exploration using the daylight. My bad].

As something curious to notice in this game:  they say that the rifts alter animals, but the only one we have seen mad were black wolves. And not only it’s a behavioural detail, it’s in their glowing green eyes. Their eyes glow as if they were coloured with Fade. They don’t have a pupil but a black crack, same as Corypheus has in the final battle. 

We know in the quest of Hinterlands: Wolf Hollow how sensitives wolves are to the presence of the breach and demons. Maybe it’s just a narrative concept to emphasise Solas’ story.

In the ruin where we found the Ferelden Wyvern statues, the dragon finally shows up.

And of course, as it could not be missed in Ferelden regions: there is always some isolated remnant of Avvar art. So far I explored, this is the only one in Crestwood. So Avvars existed in this region [which makes a lot of sense with the tale of Tyrdda Bright-Axe [her clan lived here or nearby before heading to the mountains]]

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore ]

[noire-pandora]

For DWC: "Stop worrying about you? I can barely stop thinking about you!" for Elluin x Solas (bonus points if it's set after the Crestwood scene!)

Hey, thanks for the prompt! Oh heck, you're going for my heart with this one.

Surprisingly, I haven't wrote anything, until now, about Solas and Elluin after the break up. Ironically. If I don't think about it, it never happened, right? Angst isn't my forte but here we go! For @dadrunkwriting

Time stopped when Elluin saw Solas slipping on a patch of ice and a demon lunging at him.

As its long claws dug into Solas' skin and his scream of pain echoed around the clearing where they fought, Elluin's mind shut down. She did not care about the wide-open rift that spewed forth the demons ready to devour their hearts.

With a speed she did not know she possessed, she grabbed Solas and tugged him away from the demon, her muscles and tendons protesting at the sudden effort. The demon lunged at Elluin now, and with a furious cry, she fired a searing fireball to stop the attack.

"Solas, are you alright?" The question came from her lips after the thread had crumbled to ash. Blood stained the white fabric of his tunic, causing a wave of nausea in her throat "How bad is it?"

"Bastards, all of them!" she prepared to leap back into the fight, but Solas' groan of pain made her stop.

Out of nowhere a Shade took advantage of the moment and attacked her and this time Elluin jumped forward, a burning rage slamming against her temple. She flickered her wrists, and summoned a flaming sword,the fire licking her fingers.

With a throat hurting scream, Elluin cut the demon into three pieces.

She spun on the soles of her feet, desperation clouding her mind. The rift could wait. The world could wait while Solas lay on the frozen ground, in a pool of his blood before her.

"I am fine, Inquisitor," Solas hissed as she pressed her hands to his stomach. "Go, close the rift! Now, before more come through."

"Solas, this wound is…”

"My wound is not important! Close the rift first or we are doomed," he pushed Elluin's hands away from him as if her bloody fingers touching his skin hurt more than the deep wound. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and her chin trembled, but she turned back on her feet and launched herself into the fight. An excuse to scream away the smoldering rage that burned in her throat.

With a hollow pop, the Rift bowed to her power and collapsed in on itself. The gate to the Fade closed, denying entry to any demon eager to pass through.

As soon as the green tendrils of the Mark retreated in the palm of her left hand, Elluin rushed back to Solas, who was now healing his own wounds with his eyes closed and his face contorted in pain.

When she knelt beside Solas to help him, a sharp pain ran through her knee and a hiss escaped her parched lips. A cut traced through her thigh, blood dripping from it, but she could not remember how it had happened, distracted as she was by the thought of Solas' wounds.

"Inquisitor, stand up," he said looking at the wound, pausing in the middle of healing his abdomen. "You are making your wound worse."

"I don't care about that. Are you alright? Can you walk?"

No sooner had she uttered those words than she saw his nostrils flare, a sign of annoyance and a gesture she knew all too well.

"How can you not care? If you die, this world will end. “

Anger resonated in his voice and Elluin stared at him in disbelief, a reaction she had not expect. "I care about you, Solas. Can you blame me?"

"Yes, I can," he hissed through clenched teeth and resumed his healing process, his hands shaking and Elluin could not help but wonder if that was a sign of his anger. "Instead of attending to your duties, you have ignored your friends and the demons that attack them. You should know better."

His words froze her mind, his tone as cold as the ice they sat on. "Can I not worry about you?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cassandra and Varric looking awkwardly in her direction, the signs of confusion at their next move written all over their faces.

"Duty comes first, Inquisitor. When you face duty, you should stop thinking about those around you. You should stop worrying about me."

An explosion of anger erupted in her stomach, like a volcano blowing after weeks of pressure building inside it. His words and cold demeanor broke the mental dam she built to keep things friendly after he decided to end their relationship without warning.

"You want me to stop worrying about you?" she yelled at him, jumping to her feet. “I can barely stop thinking about you!"

She knew Varric and Cassandra watched her and judged her reactions, but she did not care. Pretending all the time that everything was fine, when it was not, weighed more on her soul than Corypheus' shadow looming over them.

Before Solas could say anything, Elluin continued, her fingernails digging into the rough skin of her palm. "I did what you asked. I accepted your decision to forget our relationship as if it never existed because I promised not to pressure you. But don't you dare," her heart went to her throat as Solas' eyes fell to the ground in shame. "don't you fucking dare tell me how to feel! Because you have no right to tell me to stop caring about you." Part of her wished Solas would fight back, but he froze in the middle of her screaming, his wound still bloody. "Fuck you for telling me how to feel. You think just because you turned your back on me I can just stop loving you?"

Her chest heaved and the breath that left her mouth in a huff clouded in the cold air. An amalgam of emotions swirled in her head like a storm destroying everything in its path, but she bit her tongue to suppress the bitter words. She could not argue with him, not as he sat on the frozen ground with his shoulders slumped and his head bowed as if he bowed to her anger. Almost as if he waited for a harsh punishment to fall upon him.

"I," she muttered, but stopped as tears of anger, pain, and confusion stole her breath and cut off her words. She spun on her heels for the third time and turned her back to Solas. Elluin hurried towards their camp to hide the tears that ran down her frozen cheeks.

[angelic-writer]

The town of Crestwood began their day like any other. The townsfolk woke up and began to get ready for the day’s work. Their businesses opened up, people greeted each other when they walked in and girls and boys alike awoke to get ready for school.

Mavis Mallard was already struggling to get into his clothes - a simple grey hoodie under a black T-shirt with a band logo and blue jeans. He hadn’t slept well last night so his movements were sluggish. It didn’t help that his dad was calling to him from downstairs. “Mavis! Come downstairs and get your breakfast!”

“I’m coming!” Mavis called back. After finally putting on his hoodie, he quickly went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. After combing his hair to look somewhat presentable, he hopped down the stairs, seeing his dad and sister in the kitchen. Mavis could never miss her bleached hair and band get-up. He could probably spot her from a mile away. “Ah, there you are. Finally on time for breakfast.”

“Sorry. Didn’t sleep well.” Mavis sat down on the chair.

“You’ve been having that problem pop up more recently, huh? Maybe we should take you to a doctor.”

“Dad, I’m fine. I just have nights like that sometimes.”

His father sighed. “Alright. If you say so.” He put the eggs, bacon and biscuit in front of Mavis which he gladly ate.

"Well, look who's finally up." Charlie said with a smirk, flipping her biscuit around in her hand.

"Yeah, yeah, you say that like, every day now. Can't you come up with something different?" Mavis asked, exasperated.

"Maybe. Maybe not. All depends on the weather."

Mavis blinked. "Huh?"

"Y'know, my mood."

Mavis rolled his eyes. "Right." Although he couldn't help but smile a little.

"Alright, kids, settle down. Eat your food before the bus gets here." Their dad lightly scolded.

After breakfast, Mavis and Charlotte dashed out the door, slinging the backpacks over their shoulders. Their father made sure to remind them to be home by 6 PM. Charlie, as usual, responded with the usual "Yeah, yeah." A phrase Mavis picked up from her.

Once they were out, Mavis pulled his phone out and texted Carter.

Cerfew’s over. You still alive?

Yep. I still am. :)

Meanwhile, Cathy was also getting ready. But unlike the rest of the kids, she had a somber look on her face. The kind that made you think “What happened that caused her to be like this?” She looked at herself in the mirror. She was in her scene kid wardrobe. Torn, black jeans, white shirt and denim jacket. She hoped she looked good.

Project Mimicry (Vol 1) - Chapter 1

"In the beginning, God created the heaven and the Earth." - Genesis 1:1

1983

"This is a test. This station is conducting a test of the Emergency Broadcasting System. This is only a test."

A long, screeching noise blared from the old TV. The Markson family had a different program on when they announced the test. It was some cowboy show their dad loved so much. For eleven year old Jade, it made her stomach churn. It was an odd sound, different from the sounds of horses and gunfire that came from the living room while they were doing family worship. It made her want to jump into her mother's arms and pray to Jehovah for the noise to stop.

Her mom, dad and brother were silent as the attention signal droned on. After a minute, it stopped.

"This is a test of the emergency broadcasting system. The broadcasters of your area in voluntary cooperation with federal, state and local authorities have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of an emergency. If this had been an actual emergency, the attention signal you have just heard would have been filed by official information, news or instructions. This station serves the northern Alabama area. This concludes this test of the emergency broadcast system."

Jade fiddled with the pages of her book, trying to think of the right words to say. Her brother, Caleb had resumed work on his drawing, seeming to not care about anything. Her mother let out a small sigh. "I swear, can they not scare the kids like that?"

"Mom..." Jade quietly said. "Why do they send out something like this? What if it hadn't been a test? Are... Are we gonna die?"

Opal got up from her chair and pulled her into her arms. "Oh sweetie, we're not gonna die. Everything's gonna be okay. This whole thing will blow over in no time."

"Well Jade," Opal's husband, Simon, chimed in. "They played the test on our TV because they want to inform us on what's happening. The world is at a very turbulent time at the moment so they are doing their best to keep us informed. If we were actually under attack, we would've been hiding in the basement." He let out a small chuckle.

"Well, what can we do to make it better?" Jade asked.

"Pray to Jehovah, of course. Our safety is his priority and if we pray to him, he'll protect us."

Jade smiled and snuggled into her mother. Jehovah is the only thing she knew. She may not be like the other "worldly" kids, but she didn't need all those material goods. She didn't need to see the latest movie or buy the newest toys. As long as she had her family and Jehovah, she can get through anything.

Caleb let out a soft coo.

"Oh, we didn't forget about you!" Simon lifted him out of his baby chair and gently rocked him. The whole family began to giggle.

This was their life. This was their routine. Jade was determined to be a good older sister to Caleb. And soon, he will be baptized.

-------

December 24th, 1983

"This is an important message from the Crestwood police department. This is not a test. I repeat, this is not a test. The Crestwood police department has issued a Shelter-in-place Warning for the county of Crestwood until further notice. Reports of unknown figures have been confirmed by law enforcement and the Department of Babylonian Crusaders. For your safety, until 5 PM to 6 AM, stay home, lock all doors and windows and, in the event of a break-in, have access to a loaded weapon at all times. Do not call 911 unless you need to report an emergency. The Crestwood police department and the Department of Babylonian Crusaders thanks you for your cooperation.

Stay tuned for a message from the representative of the Department of Babylonian Crusaders."

"Hello. My name is Dr. Lloyd Evans from the Department of Babylonian Crusaders. We have been receiving reports of unknown organisms that we've decided to call mimics. You may have already gotten the alert from the EBS about this phenomenon, but we're here to tell you about what those mimic types are and what you can do to protect yourself.

The first type are the defensive mimics. They are a sub group of mimics that take on the role of a protector when they find a human. Some pose as aggressive mimics to ward off other humans or they deceive humans they perceive as harmful with their harmless look and kill them. Think of it as a predator camouflaging itself in order for them to eat their prey.

There are three types of defensive mimics. There are Batesian, Mullerian and Emsleyan or Mertensian mimics.

Batesian mimics are harmless. They pose as a harmful mimic to ward off anyone they tries to hurt them or their human.

Mullerian mimics are two or more mimics that advertise themselves as harmful to ward off predators. These mimics often work in groups of two or three.

Emsleyan or Mertensian mimics take the form of a less harmful mimic to deceive the predator and kill them.

These ones can be considered safe, but you should still be wary of them. Aggressive mimics are the ones you need to watch out for. Now, aggressive mimics are the type of mimic that pose as humans to kill them. These types use mind games to toy with their victims. If they haven't committed suicide, the mimic will finish the job.

Predators are a mimic group where they take the form of a loved one, deceive them into thinking they are the real person and then use psychological manipulation. Those are the most dangerous types of mimics and we strongly advise to avoid them at all costs.

Parasites are [REDACTED DUE TO SIGNAL GLITCH]

Now, here's what you can do to keep yourself safe. Stay in your homes after 6 PM, lock all windows and doors and keep a loaded weapon with you at all times. In the event of a mimic attack, follow the S.A.F.E. principle.

S - Secure yourself in a room.

A - Access the situation. Learn how the mimic operates.

F - Fire your weapon. If the mimic attacks, do not hesitate. It can mean life or death.

E - If possible, escape. Do not let them win.

We hope this message keeps you safe. We're very sorry for the interruption and we hope you have a Merry Christmas!"

Though this message was broadcasted to most TVs, some of them reported the S part saying something different. According to reports, it said "Surrender yourself to the Lord."

--------

1987

The young man's back was pressed up against the wall. The shotgun he had in his hands had one shell left. The creature that was at his door kept calling out to him in a mockery of his wife's voice.

"Ralphie... Please let me in... I'm sorry for sca-a-a-aring you back there. You know how I am."

His grip tightened. That wasn't her. That wasn't his wife. She was dead. And now, he was going to die too. His eyes started to fill with tears.

Marla... I'm so sorry... I couldn't protect you... I couldn't save you from these things.

The image of his wife sprawled out on the kitchen floor flashed in his mind. Her neck that was gushing blood... He swallowed, trying to hold back his vomit. They had followed the rules. They had done everything the broadcast said. What did they do wrong? They had to have done something wrong for something like this to happen.

He gritted his teeth. Pondering over this won't help him now. Remember the S.A.F.E. principle, Ralph. Remember.

He secured himself in his bedroom, grabbing his shotgun so he could protect himself. He analyzed the situation. The creature, the mimic, was trying to use his wife's voice to lure him out, using his nickname. Ralphie was what she would call him when he came home from work. The way she said it made his heart soar. However, when it said his nickname, it felt like nails on a chalkboard.

The high school sweethearts had moved into the rural Alabama town after they had gotten married in New York. They thought getting away from the bustling city life would help them. They were in the talks of starting a family when the broadcast came on, talking about reports of mimics.

"Talk about bad timing. On Christmas too." Marla had said while bringing out the cookies and milk. "Let's hope Santa gets there okay."

"I hope so too. But hey, look on the bright side. This lockdown will end at 6 AM tomorrow. We've still got time to celebrate, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Besides, anything's fun with you." She gave him a light peck on the cheek.

A low sob escaped him. There was so much they wanted to do together. So many things they had planned. Their entire life... They were now gone.

Oh Marla... Why did they have to take you? What did we do?

God, please... Please help me.

He wiped his face. No, crying and pleading to some higher being isn't gonna solve anything. I have to survive. I have to live on for Marla! If I can get out of here, I could alert the police.

With a sense of courage taking over, he pointed his shotgun at the door. The mimic had begun to claw at the door, no doubt leaving scratch marks in the wood. "Ralphie... Please... Let me in. It's so cold. My neck hurts. Help..."

"Shut up... You're not her..."

The doorknob rattled.

"You're not her. You're not her! You're not her!!"

There was a sudden loud banging making him jump. "Ralph, open the goddamn door! You'd really leave me out here with these things?! How could you?!" The thing screeched.

"You're! Not! Her! Leave me alone!! You killed her, you monster!! You're not- You're not her!" He screamed, tears streaming down his face. "Just try and get me! I dare you! I'll fucking shoot you if you try anything!"

"Ralph..." His 'wife' had begun to cry. Normally, it would cause him to go over and hug her, but he will not be swayed. What it was doing, it was disgusting. It's desecrating his wife's memory, his image, his everything. The nerve of the creature...

The door flew open, allowing Ralph to see the monster. Though it was hard to see through the darkness, what he could see made him freeze.

Its form was tall and lanky, its arms and legs stretched out to an almost inhuman degree. What little hair it had on its head was beginning to fall off. Its skin was beginning to sag. Ralph could swear he was beginning to see bones. The mimic looked at him with empty eyes yet it pierced his soul with an intense glare. It opened its mouth to speak, but all that came out were rasps and gargles.

Ralph began to shake, his aim wavering as he stared at... He didn't even know what he was seeing. It was human, but at the same time, it was not. It looked like his wife, but it was like looking at a decomposing carcass. The smell... It smelled like rotten eggs left out on the hot sidewalk. Bile threatened to come up his throat, but he held it in.

One shot. He had to make it count. If it failed...

The creature began to laugh. It was the kind of laugh that made you cringe. It was an ear-piercing, gurgling laugh that was like if you tried to imitate a toy clown on its last legs.

Ralph pressed his finger on the trigger. Taking a deep breath, he screamed out.

"I will not let you kill me!!"

The gun went off.

--------

2017

The group of kids stared at the small house as their two older brothers talked to the movers. The smallest one of the bunch hugged her teddy bear. Though leaving their home state of Florida didn't seem like a huge deal at first, Catherine still had her doubts. Sure, they were free from all the hurricanes, but they still had friends there. They still had people they could talk to.

But now, she and her brothers moved to a new town. There was no one she knew there. And there was... an abundance of churches. Lots and lots of churches.

@chibisrpblog