#why is it that most of the companion info is in banter

[rpgchoices]

Dragon age Veilguard where the only way to learn about your companions backstories is eavesdropping

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Davrin (and also Grey Wardens and griffons) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Davrin

Family and past:

When he was a kid, Davrin broke his arm when his aravel sailed off a ridge 

Davrin stlll considers himself Dalish and thinks that will never change

Davrin hasn’t seen his clan since he left the forest. He misses the clan (‘it comes and goes’), Dalish food – especially halla milk and butter — and the sense of a common purpose. The last is why he joined the Wardens

Eldrin lives on his own, not together with Davrin’s clan

Just like Bellara, when Davrin was little, he wondered what it was like to have his own house, shop at the market and make friends with outsiders

Davrin isn’t bothered by the idea of fighting the Elven gods because he never really believed in them, but he is worried about how the events of the Veilguard will impact the reputation of the elves

General:

Davrin drinks beer and wine

Davrin hums to himself :)

Davrin can speak some Dwarven 

Davrin doesn’t get the Fade - it’s just too many things at once (the place where spirits live, origin of creation etc.). He has difficulties believing it because it’s something he can’t touch or see 

Davrin would’ve left D’meta’s Crossing’s mayor to die

Davrin dumps griffon waste right into the Fade. No reservations about it whatsoever

Life with the Wardens:

Davrin says he never got used to hearing/sensing darkspawn after joining the Wardens

Davrin knows Ramish (protagonist of the Horrors of Hormkar)

The first group of Wardens Davrin fought with had a special system for fighting ogres. One of them would be “Cheese” (bait), drawing the ogre's attention while the others shot it with arrows (so Davrin can either use a bow or was always the Cheese) 

Monster hunting: 

Davrin can't take most books about monsters seriously, as they are not up to his standards

Fighting monsters is all about the thrill of the chase and tracking a target down rather than the victory

Davrin prefers to fight flesh-and-blood monsters rather than demons

Davrin takes full payment upfront when he hunts monsters for coin

Davrin has many monster trophies (Harding finds them disturbing)

Davrin does taxidermy 

Relationships with other companions: 

(In conversations with Bellara and Neve) Davrin genuinely believes Lucanis/Spite can kill them all 

(In conversation with Harding) Davrin proudly says Lucanis couldn’t take him 

Davrin made a little statue with a skull for a face as a gift for Emmrich’s colleague at his request

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Davrin offers Emmrich to become a monster-hunting team (“Warden and lich. From darkspawn to demons, we've got you covered.”), thinking they could score a lot of coin

Davrin also offers Neve to set up shop together. “Minrathous Monsters and Murders. If it's claws and fangs stirring up trouble, we've got it covered.” Neve suggests Emmrich (and Manfred, if he's alive) joins them

Davrin and Neve met before the events of the Veilagurd on what Neve calls “The Vol Dorma Job”

About Assan and griffons:

Griffons like shiny things. Assan even once stole one of Bellara’s crystals (but later brought it back) 

(If Sent to Arlathan Forest) Griffons seem to 'remember' patrolling the forest, like it's a genetic thing

(If sent to the Wardens) Griffons listen to Evka

There’s no definite age for when a griffon is ready to carry a rider. It’s more about size and discipline 

(If Rook is in romance with Davrin) Assan gets a little moody/jealous after Davrin and Rook get together

Fade spooks Assan, so he doesn’t fly too far away from the Lighthouse 

Assan eats pastries from the kitchen

Assan doesn't like eating vegetables, but Davrin got him to eat carrots after Taash pointed out he needed more fibre in his diet

Assan misses Manfred when he dies

Assan can dive underwater and eat fish

Assan is curious about Neve’s wisps

About Wardens/misc:

Wardens slip Worry Weed into each other’s ale for kicks (it causes paranoia)

There is no definite timeline of how long a blighted person can survive without the Joining. It all depends on the person

Evka is good at telling spooky stories

Weisshaupt has a world-class library with books over a thousand years old

Wooden carvings can become haunted if blood gets on them

Wardens usually eat cold gruel for meals. Nobody knows what's inside it

[forsakenwitchery]

Finished Veilguard the other day and I need you to see my Rook. xD idk I tried to create something similar to my face, but then it hit me I had Tallis on my hands. 😂

In case someone's interested in my thoughts (no spoilers): it was kind of a mixed bag experience for me. I couldn't agree more with the sentiment that the game's too sanitized, but I did have some fun with it and I did grow to like the companions after all. ALSO MANFRED NEEDS TO BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS! And Lucanis reminds me of Gale so much, guess that's my new type. xD Men cooking is the hottest trait ever, legit a dealbreaker no griffon or sentient skeleton can beat.

More rambling under the cut & adding all the critical tags I could think of.

I do think they sort of shot themselves in the foot by calling it Dragon Age, because I kept thinking it reminds me of Guardians of the Galaxy A LOT which was a good & imho underrated game!!! but it's not the best comparison for a DA game. I didn't like Bellara at first, but then it hit me she reminds me of Mantis. SO. MUCH. And I loved Mantis! So Bellara just felt so out of place in DA. I have a lot of thoughts, yet my main takeaway is that it should have been a new IP. Literally had it been called anything else 70% of my beef with this game wouldn't exist, and I think it's true for most people who are critical about it. Like, I played as a Crow, and literally all the Crows in the game are good(TM). My Rook told Harding she did some bad things, but nothing too bad! Literally no Crow in this game is willing to kill anyone. The banter about Grey Warden contracts... Was wild. What's the point of even having assassins who are so uwu goody two-shoes. :( Legit had they made a game in the vein of DA, but not DA, with new not preestablished factions, I wouldn't have this critique. And you can't say or do anything too bad in this game which is wild for DA. I think I was only allowed to be mean about Solas, but even tho I always chose the dialogs akin to 'he can go F himself', the game kept telling me 'he's just a poor sad little meow meow' by legit every character around me. WHICH GIVEN THE FINAL TWIST OF WHAT HE DID. FUCKING FUCK. There are not nearly enough mean things this game lets you say about him, and it's mind-blowing why half the characters would toot his horn so much. Sorry, I hate Solas' guts, I didn't think it was possible to hate him even more, but holy shit was I not prepared...

But like, had it been a new IP, my only critique would be all the handholding, especially the constant 'pointing out the obvious' at the start of the game. The first hours were driving me insane with it. Like guys, I'm not stupid, I don't need to be told the same thing 3 or 4 times. Or how to proceed in a linear location if I stop for one second. Yeah, it gets better with the obvious part, but not with repeating the same info, which made me wonder what age were they targeting with it. Because I don't think kids like to be talked down to, either.

BUT I expected way worse. It was overall not a bad game. Not a super great 10/10 one, but it had its moments. For me, it was a solid 6/10, maybe even a 7 in some parts. idk why, but I especially loved Evka and Antoine. And the cooking party banters. Super pretty, too, once I got used to the style.

Oh, and I also called my Rook Anthea, and since the Crows had a character called Teia, I got an added bonus of Lucanis actually saying that name a few times. xD

[loregoddess]

more Octo2 thoughts bc it's been a hell of a weekend for me and I need something nice to think about (shh, my weekends are on weekdays, don't ask, just know tips are better on the real weekends, and I will eventually one day not work in food and have real weekends off again hopefully); under the cut bc lategame spoilers, as usual

alskdjaskld completely forgot Throne's Ch3 Father's Route, so I did that real fast before heading to Stormhail. Apparently? I forgot? Did not pay attention? To the fact that Sebastian/Father actually is never directly stated to be Claude's son, and insofar as we know he was just born in some shitty town and had to resort to stealing to survive (and therefore wasn't raised to be a Blacksnake), and joined the Blacksnakes of his own free will after moving to the city?? So like, sure he could still be Claude's son bc *vaguely gestures at Mr. Bigtits Sexiroth and his terrible horrible fucked up MGS-scheme to not be Vide's vessel* and it could be he was only allowed into the Blacksnakes bc he was secretly Claude's son, but it's still an interesting detail that unlike 99% of the Blacksnakes, he wasn't raised by/in the organization itself.

Marietta however does seem to have been part of the Blacksnakes, which has the disconcerting implication that she's uh, related to Claude despite bearing his child later on (which I honestly wouldn't put past him, and if Throne is somehow the Cleopatra of a fucked up Fantasy Ptolemy-esque family tree, I honestly wouldn't even question it at this point, there is so much weird shit going on in her story arc).

I'm still not entirely convinced Marietta didn't pull a Hatoful by pretending to kill her child w/ Sebastian and actually killing her child with Claude (making Throne actually Sebastian's daughter, and therefore making the whole "not Vide's vessel" thing make a bit more sense, although I have a new theory cooking for that as well that doesn't require her to not be Claude's actual daughter), but the evidence is stronger for Throne being Claude's literal daughter so, anyhow, her story arc is still a very messed up MGS-esque Fantasy John Wick story. But I mean, I still have one more chapter for Throne to try and scour for information for why she isn't Vide's vessel, what's going on w/ the Blacksnakes and their superpowers, and also how exactly the legend of the prince and princess might shed light on Solistia's distant past (I mean, we know the prince was probably Claude, but the princess? Arcanette maybe? and what of the two fighting kingdoms? does the Great Wall and the lost kingdom therein have something to do w/ it?)

Ochette's Stormhail chapter was pretty straightforward. I did waste most of my money buying fancy armor and weapons though, even with Partitio's 20% discount via his follower (who is ironically Masoud). It did have some interesting timeline info though (Glacis's egg was shattered 10 years before the start of the story, around the same time Ochette was required to choose her animal companion). I'm really going to have to watch a walkthrough/playthrough of everything though and actually take notes on the various years and stuff to put together a proper timeline one of these days...

Oh, and Osvald does say the Pit of D'arqest is "just south" of Stormhail in his banter w/ Temenos, so yeah, it seems like the Infernal Castle and the Pit of D'arqest are related if not the same location. Interesting to keep in mind for when I eventually go and level grind there.

Finally pinpointed the two things about Temenos's story arc that were irking me. The first I knew, and that was that "genocide survivor joins her peoples' killers and also seeks the power that her people literally abhorred which is also the source of power for her peoples' killers to...try and destroy said killers" just does not work as a plot for me. Love the concept of Kaldena as a character, but god her arc is a mess. Writer's could have done something more interesting with her than...all that. She deserved better writing.

The second thing is, uh, the entire Stormhail chapter. I didn't really process it my first run bc Crick's death is so out of left field that I was too surprised to think about it, but the pacing for this chapter is just...weird (certain scenes could have been slightly rewritten and put into Ch2, or at least the events could have been rearranged so there weren't these awkward pauses and transitions into new scenes; I get there were trying to let Crick get enough screentime to make his death matter, but honestly the entire thing is just kinda poorly paced by my tastes).

But more so than the pacing, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THAT BOTH TEMENOS AND CRICK ARE INTELLIGENT ADULTS which they clearly are except for this one thing IF THEY IMMEDIATELY SPLIT UP AFTER SOMEONE TRIED TO KILL THEM ONCE? HELLO? Is this a horror movie? Are you perhaps, young teens in a mediocre slasher flick? Someone tried to KILL YOU and you decide no, it's fine, let's take a break for the night, I'm going to the inn, you can head on back to the Sacred Guard which we just established is where the killer is hiding, this is a very logical, good plan with no flaws whatsoever.

Like, listen, I don't think Crick's death was really necessary (it doesn't actually add that much to the overall narrative in my opinion, aside from shock value, and we already had Jorg getting killed bc he Maes Hughes'd himself by knowing too much, you can't...pull the same trick twice without some fancier plot setup usually), but what really irks me about it was it was entirely avoidable if the two had just gone ahead and either investigated together (confrontation with Cubaryi could have still occured, except Crick would be there), or headed to the inn together since Crick's entire thing is protecting people and someone literally just tried to kill Temenos (and then they could have investigated and the chapter could have more or less played out the same except Crick may or may not die, like they could have had him die protecting Temenos before or after the fight w/ Cubaryi, although again, I don't think his death adds more to the story than leaving him alive would have, and my general thoughts on character deaths in fiction is that they should always be absolutely necessary for the entire narrative and plot to work)

So anyhow, yeah, Temenos's Stormhail chapter is actually where his story kinda starts to feel eh to me. I wish to release an army of puppies to chew on the writers' furniture and slippers, just for the frustration. Because like, as I thought, there doesn't have to be that many changes to Temenos's story to make it work for me, the pacing and random "horror movie protagonists IQ" doesn't work for me. Or Kaldena's writing. But both those things would require just the slightest rework to make the entire narrative flow smoothly.

Anyhow, looking forward to seeing Hikari get zapped off a bridge next (I know it's supposed to be serious and dramatic, but Rai Mei literally just zapping him off the bridge is so funny to me, she really just sees him and casts Bolt of Fuck Off). I'll also be keeping an eye out for Ori since her journals indicate she should be around for this next chapter.

[misconceivedcapricorn]

Day 6: Swapped Roles

Jumping at the opportunity to talk about my Hurricane AU

My Swap AU where the Cyclone accident happens in Ukraine but with a cast of Talia, cut characters and an oc

The main kids who die are Talia, Astrid, Corey, Hank, Trishna and a Jane Doe.

(Disclaimer: In light of new info, I would like to clarify that this was before that post of Astrid being Nordic. At this point in time she was still said to be Ukrainian)

This is the fortune-telling machine. Time has not served her well, and she was found in some secluded part of a fairground because she barely works any more.

Marie takes Karnak's role of transporting the children after their deaths and actually is able to give a warning to them before the accident occurred. However, the warning is vague and it does not deter them.

The Snake is her companion. She is with the machine from the beginning and serves as her translator in the afterlife. Marie can't talk- she most speaks in garbled and broken audio, sparks and grinding noises. The Snake understands her and often banters with the robot whilst also filling Karnak's role of 'snarky but loveable'.

Now, some ideas/facts about the AU:

The Jane Doe OC as of now is actually related to Johnny Moon. Why? I thought it was funny. Also that her being from a rich and influential family meant that she was very much a foreigner in Ukraine and also serves as an explanation for why her identity wouldn't be recognised even with her head intact.

Astrid, Hank, Trishna and Corey all retain certain aspects of their songs that we know of. Corey has his rap against himself in the funhouse mirror, Astrid and Hank have their unhinged duet, and Trishna has her metamorphosis arc

Talia's song would be about Mischa, and would be sort of a mash-up of TSIA and Talia in a way of it being hip hop and also it being a sort of love letter to her beloved in another country. During it, she also has a costume change to better fit the theme and vibe since she can't exactly open her shirt up and have the same effect

( funnily enough, this is also the main fit I give Talia normally outside of this AU )

The rest of the gang believes Talia's boyfriend/fiancee Mischa isn't real in the sense they don't think he's actually living in Canada or that his tragic backstory is too ridiculous to be true

Astrid and Hank are still dating, but Trishna's relationship with Hank is cut in this AU

The Jane Doe in this case is not incredibly sweet. She's aggravated that she can't be remembered and that she can't remember herself, so she often makes snide remarks

The Jane Doe is also subject to being cut from the line up. She doesn't exactly fit the vibe so her role in the story is entirely dependent on how the story ends up progressing

[transandersrights]

Not sure if you are still taking prompts (if you aren't then please ignore me!), but you know that tumblr post that talks about how Sera and Fenris should've switched between games? Could we have some scenes of her just interacting with the other DA2 companions?

I'm def still taking prompts! (info here for anyone interested)

I tried to write banter-style, dialogue-only interactions here, one for each companion with Sera (except Fenris, who is currently living his best life in Inquisition killing Venatori):

Aveline:

“Lizards in the west quarter.” “Yep.” “Dead rat in the private water supply.” “Yup!” “Honey on the door handles.” “Didn’t do it, but the honey came from me.” “Snakes in the Orlesian ambassador’s vault.” “Ooh, not me, but a good idea.” “Fine. Offal on the Chantry steps?” “Oh, that was me.” “You are so lucky I haven’t arrested you, Sera. You know these are all confessions?” “But you won’t. You already thought I did it, and you don’t have to know to arrest me. So admitting it won’t change a thing.” “I suppose.” “Do you agree with me?” “…No. Of course not.” “I think that sounds like someone who does. Thanks, I guess! You should quit your job.”

Varric:

“D’you write about me too?” “That would depend on if you wanted me to write your story, Buttercup.” “Wait. Did you ask Aveline if she wanted that written about herself?” “Well, not really. But she’s our illustrious guard captain, so it’s alright. What you do… it’s a little more sensitive. That’s why I’m not in my own books, if you catch my drift.” “What we do is completely different, richie. Nothing sensitive about taking back what should be ours.” “Do you want the whole city to know who to blame next time every vase in Hightown gets filled with sewer water?” “Hmm, might be nice. But no. So you’re not writing about me?” “I write about Hawke sometimes. You might come up.” “Rad! Make sure I have a hot girlfriend. And she should have way bigger tits than Avvy has in those dirty illustrations.” “Oh, of course that was your concern. Why did I expect anything else?” “Don’t know. I only ask the really important questions.”

Carver:

“Must’ve been rubbish, growing up with mages.” “Must’ve been rubbish growing up in Denerim.” “Yeah, bloody awful. You too?” “Mages aren’t exactly a place. Grow big enough and get a big enough sword, and you can just walk out.” “And that got you in exactly the same shithole as Denerim and my arrows got me, so maybe you’re not as mighty as you thought.” “Or maybe we’re both exactly as mighty as we think. You’re pretty good with that bow.” “I’m pretty mighty. Don’t think you can live up to all that.” “But we’re little people too. In the… non-literal sense, in my case.” “Yeah, all little with that biiig house up on the hill.” “All little because we don’t have the money to own it. All little, sleeping on the floor with the dog every other night in Gamlen’s piss hovel.” “Don’t know why you want to insist we both have it so hard. It’s not going to make me like you more.” “Doesn’t matter. I’m just setting the record straight.”

Bethany:

“I don’t mind if you’re scared of me, you know. You can say! I’ll keep my distance.” “Good. Because you should.” “I know the others mind that you don’t like magic, but I don’t. I think it’s smart.” “You don’t get to be all familiar just because you agree.” “You’re right. I just wanted you to know that I don’t hold it against you.” “Wouldn’t care if you did. Maybe you should hold it against me.” “I don’t see any reason to. Do you want me to be angry at you?” “Most people are when I tell them stuff like it is.” “Well, I suppose I’m stronger than being bothered by something I already see as true. I’m sorry about all of it, Sera. I just can’t change anything that means I won’t scare you.” “I don’t want you to, alright? Just let it be. I don’t care how you feel about your magic as long as you do it as little as possible and point it at the bad guys.” “What about if I point it at Templars?” “They can be bad guys too. Templars are bullies. Just because they stop magic from hurting people doesn’t mean they don’t hurt other people.” “I see your point. Okay, bad people only. And if I do anything else…” “Arrow between the eyes. Won’t even think about it.” “Thank you.”

Sebastian:

“Sera, if you don’t mind me asking… you do believe in the Maker, yes?” “Sure I do. It makes enough sense to me.” “And you believe in Andraste, and the teachings of the Chantry.” “Depends on what it is, but yes.” “Ah, I understand. So you don’t see any issue with stealing or chaos, despite their position in the Chantry’s teachings.” “Well, I said I believed some of it. Andraste? Sure. Maker? Why not. But the stealing stuff… that’s just something made up by rich people to keep the little people in their place. It’s not actually about the Maker.” “The Chantry is an important institution for maintaining the moral order of society! What it offers all of us is unparalleled. I am glad you understand the basics, but if you need any further instruction into the finer points, I would be glad to lend my aid.” “Yeah, not interested.” “Why not?” “Too much waffling about shoulds and shouldn’ts. Chantry should be about how things were, not what people with too much money want it to be.” “I… am afraid I do not understand you, Sera.” “You don’t need to, rich boy.”

Anders:

“You think it’s right, don’t you?” “What?” “Templars, Circles, the Chantry. You think they’re right about locking us up. Keeping us away from people like you.” “I mean, yeah. So you don’t go all demon-y on us.” “And what’s happened to some means no one gets their freedom? No one at all?” “If I say yes, will you go demon-y on me? Because I won’t think before I shoot.” “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. So would you? Say yes, that is.” “Course I would. I’ve known mages. Firstly, you’re weird. Secondly, people go all torches and pitchforks if they think there’s one around. Safer for everyone if you’re not.” “Somehow, I don’t think there’s much point arguing with you on this one.” “Damn right there isn’t. You’re not changing my mind.” “Oh, trust me. I know. You’re not as novel as you think.”

Isabela:

“You know, I think I might have seen you before. In Ferelden.” “I’ve been to many places, Sera. It’s definitely possible.” “Was it over by the Pearl? Did you like the Pearl? Lots of people do.” “It’s definitely a fun establishment. All the right kinds of fun. The Rose is nice, but I don’t think it can compare.” “Rose is too fancy. Take your boots off, don’t look at anyone, have the decency to be ashamed, all of that.” “Oh, I haven’t found it all that bad. There are a couple of really lovely girls I could introduce you to, if you think you want a better time. We could go together.” “Together together?” “If you’d like. I’d be up for it.” “Sounds good. I’m in.”

Merrill:

“You’re weird.” “Am I? I hadn’t noticed.” “You’re all… elfy. Magey. It’s weird.” “Oh, maybe to some people! It’s very normal for me though. I’ve always been elfy and magey, actually.” “Pfft. Well, don’t start shoving it on me.” “I wouldn’t. You clearly don’t want to hear it — and even if I wanted you to, and I wanted to tell you about all the wonderful things I know, I don’t think you’d listen. There are a lot of other people who want to know.” “La la la, that won’t work on me!��� “I’m… not trying anything?” “Well, nothing won’t do anything either. Won’t make yourself seem all harmless just like that. I know what you are. Smiling doesn’t change that.” “You’re right, it doesn’t. I think nothing is nicer than trying to tell you, though. I’ll stick with nothing unless you change your mind.” “I won’t!”

[neutrallyobsessed]

Listen. It's fine if you don't like popular ships, but why so much aversion towards any lgbtqia+ ship in AA? It feels like kinda a stretch you do when most of yours are headcanons just because you want them all to be straight.

Also fine, if you want to ship AAI straight characters, why not Kay and Sebastian? They're the same age and it's better than shipping them with adults.

I suppose you just want to attack people's ships because you're a pro-shipper AND you can't stand the idea of people headcanoning lgbt couples (and before you say anything, I also ship Miego and Gummaggye. Your attitude is what weirds me out)

it's not an aversion, i just don't vibe with it. it ain't my thing and it's not a big deal, really...

at the end of the day, everything is a headcanon and canon itself is just a suggestion, believe it or not, we can coexist~

_________

why not kysb? because it's BORING. LAME AF! (more info). the ship where the characters dont interact when they have an entire game to do so is NOT a better alternative to ships where each other's companion is RIGHT there, being very caring (and dare i say affectionate) to their respective assistant and having funny banter... also they're so cute and byoutiful omg (no hate to the shippers ofc, y'all are lovely and very based)

mysb tho :v

_________

i really wish i could attack people's ships like that, but i cant. it's mean and rude. sorry if a proshipper attacked you or your ships, that's not what it is. and sorry for headcanoning something different, it will happen again

[treflev]

I'm not 100% sure because I merely osmose info about this game but I think that you blog about dragon age sometimes so do character bingo of I think his name is solas?

So the bald man who's definitely 100% zero doubt someone's poor little meow meow? The man whose whole existence is an atrocity, the hipster without hair despite looking really good with it, the guy who hates most people and wants to Thanos snap even more?

I get why people love him (as a character, romantically I still struggle) and canon did a fantastic job with him (and the short story about him is magnigicent) but I personally really don't feel it. Like he'd leave earth and I'd be fine. He's the one I never romanced. Like I like him but spending time with him is a chore most of the time, like hanging out with teachers after the bell rang?

(And he doesn't get along with the other companions soooo my choice is made. However his chess game is one of my fav banters in the game)

Cool guy!

(And worst guy)

(I really should feel more about him, I feel like I'm failing the fandom a bit)

ALSO HIS SUPER SECRET SIDE PLAN ROCKS

[seyaryminamoto]

Underneath Starlit Skies: Sokkla Saturdays 2021

Day 8: Prince Sokka, Peasant Azula

(AKA: My Sokkla Dragon Age: Origins AU)

Once again, the story is too long to fit in Tumblr.... so proceed to read it at the site you prefer:

On FF.net//On AO3

A few tidbits of info about this AU below...

A very long time ago, a certain someone (*cough*@intolerabletyranny *cough*) thought to tell me that I should play Dragon Age: Origins because the banter between two companion characters of that game reminded her of Sokka and Azula. Said characters are Alistair and Morrigan, two of the main characters of the first game of the franchise... and some of the most important characters in the franchise altogether, if you ask me xD

Unfortunately, while the game absolutely allows you to set them up together for a certain scene in the last quests, and while it has soooo many golden lines of banter and dialogue between these two, they're both romance options for the player character rather than for each other. Which is, frankly, a really big waste because Alistair and Morrigan, together, could have had the most interesting romance in the whole franchise if you ask me :'D There are a few things I didn't really do in this story that I absolutely love about those two in game, such as giving Morrigan a little doll that looks like Alistair and that she can use to poke fun of Alistair in... rather surprising ways xD But there was no room for it in this already massive story, of course.

So, when the Prince Sokka and Peasant Azula prompt won, I had no idea what to do at first... until I remembered that my favorite ship in DA is basically that prompt for those two XD my fate was sealed then, because I knew I had to write what could have happened between Alistair and Morrigan through Sokka and Azula instead.

What followed was a wild mess of trying to figure out how to mix and match the characters from ATLA and the ones from DA:O until I got a proper cast for this story. Naturally, I couldn't have an actual player character Warden, whose true identity in this AU remains a mystery even for me xD Sokka, then, basically took the roles of both the player character, aka the Warden and Alistair, all by himself. A lot of Alistair's more goofy, childish antics were dismissed in order to give Sokka a proper balance between Alistair and the Warden here, thus why certain storylines of Alistair's don't happen here at all (such as Goldanna, who, via later Bioware storytelling, is practically an irrelevant character to Alistair at this point in time anyway...).

As for Azula, she may be a little less abrasive than Morrigan at several points, I did hold her back from slapping Sokka at one point where Morrigan does slap the Warden in the game's infamously cut "angry kiss scene" xD but a lot of her characterization here is outright taken from Morrigan in DA:O. The majority of her conflicts with Sokka over love are practically 100% borrowed from DA:O's canon, but I took a few liberties here and there, anyway :'D

Sadly, Sokka being in Alistair's role meant Katara had to be Cailan, and anyone who played the game knows what that meant. I didn't want Katara to feel like a dumbass the way Cailan does in DA:O, so I deliberately altered the dialogues where Loghain dismisses Cailan here, so that Iroh doesn't disrespect Katara that badly. As for Iroh being such a messed up gray character... that's 100% on Loghain xD I didn't embellish anything, it's completely a matter of the choices made by Loghain himself in DA:O. Sokka, being a mix of Warden and Alistair, gets to agree to Iroh's Joining without throwing a fit about it (?) and Zuko is a much less unpleasant Anora in many ways, it just didn't feel right to portray him being as much of a politically-savvy and sleazy character as Anora can be (I made every awful choice I could have in my first playthrough to see the very WORST of Anora, I swear I did... xD and I made her queen anyway! It's so unfair that she was so mean to me xD).

About Mai and her portrayal here... given that the qunari have such strict gender roles and that Dragon Age: Inquisition, third installment of the franchise, presented qunari characters like Iron Bull who accepted a trans man as a warrior without question, I decided that Mai, being the absolute most similar ATLA character to Sten, would have to be a trans man in this story as well in order to stay true to the lore. It was done because the setting really required it, a female qunari is not really allowed to be a warrior. If Sten isn't a warrior, he would never be in Ferelden when the Blight begins, so... that's why I did what I did.

And as for Toph, due to her casting as Shale, a golem who doesn't really identify as anything at first (as far as I can remember), this was a non-binary portrayal of Toph as well. In a game quest that I didn't feature in the story, Shale learns that they were actually a female dwarf in their squishy lifetime, which means that Toph might have eventually started identifying as female, but as we didn't have that part of the story in the story here, I continued to refer to Toph as they/them for authenticity's sake.

Suki was cast as Oghren but she's a little less disastrous than him xD I didn't want Suki to come off as a major alcoholic with rage management issues, but I didn't want to deviate completely from Oghren's role anyway. So she's possibly one of the characters who's most like herself... whereas Jet practically transformed completely into Zevran xD I couldn't help it, I love Zevran to pieces and Jet made a really fun Zevran to write too. Ty Lee and Leliana are remarkably similar as well, sans the religious thing in Ty Lee's case. There were a few easy casting choices, the last two were some of them... and Yagoda, the elderly healer lady from the Northern Water Tribe, a character I literally have NEVER written before, was also an easy choice for Wynne xD

Another character worth explaining a bit... is Ursa. She is possibly the most distant character from her ATLA portrayal because I turned her into Flemeth, a very iconic, very dangerous and very difficult character to grasp in DA. Flemeth is actually a seriously dangerous being, I don't want to spoil things in case anyone decides to play them xD but Azula, and so, Morrigan, are very right to be wary of their respective mothers. Flemeth isn't all evil, however, and neither is Ursa... but they somehow manage to make themselves look SO BAD to their daughters that I honestly can't blame Morrigan in the slightest for wanting nothing to do with her mother in DA XD at any rate, I may get a chance to somewhat-redeem Ursa if I continue this story in future Sokkla Saturdays...

... Which leads me to my final point to bring up, and that is Aang: there's a reason Aang wasn't in this story at all, and that's because he's the absolutely PERFECT character to correlate with a very polemic character from Dragon Age: Inquisition. Honestly, it's a no-brainer there xD if I continue this story, Aang will likely feature as that character, and it may just be the darkest Aang I've EVER written. Just so you know that it's not that I forgot him, it's really just that Aang has a very dark destiny in this AU XD

At any rate, there's more notes in the chapter itself, and I'm always ready to answer any questions you guys may have pertaining this insanely big AU :D It was a lot of fun to write, it is RIDICULOUSLY long, but I really hope you guys enjoy it if you give it a shot! :)

[kiruuuuu]

Smoke/Lesion oneshot in which Lesion meets someone important during his first mission and then realises he was horribly wrong over the course of a few years. (Rating T, culture clash + hurt/comfort, ~9k words) - written for @yovelie! I can’t thank you enough for this commission and all your encouragement 💞💞 You continue to be a delight! Find my commission info here!

This fic has been posted to AO3 as well!! Read it here :)

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His presence alone demands respect: he has the aura of someone who turns heads unconsciously, who parts a crowd with no effort and without realising, of a man used to making himself heard. Tze Long inadvertently holds his breath as the broad-shouldered, imposing European paces the room, studying the papers handed to him upon entry and not yet having directed a single word at anyone. He oozes confidence and competence, a good mixture as far as Tze Long is concerned, and despite the circumstances, he’s calmed down considerably. With this fortress of a man on their side, he has nothing to fear.

The man’s companion is less impressive, reminds Tze Long more of an aged schoolkid, sitting the wrong way around on a chair and resting his chin on his arms, eyes lazily trailing after his superior. If anything, he’s an apprentice, for some reason deemed worthy enough to follow this legend around despite proving himself lacking in several aspects – physical appearance is just one of them. He merely scanned the report Tze Long neatly put together before switching to playing with a lighter instead, face bored and impassive.

Indonesian weather doesn’t agree with either of them and yet Tze Long can’t pretend he minds, not when it forces the two to expose their toned arms and causes sweat to bead up on their foreheads enticingly. This is a moment in which he stops wondering why he’s got it so bad for Westerners.

Paper rustles and restless footfalls stop. The tall man fixes Tze Long with a level gaze which shouldn’t cause his heart to skip a beat like this. “Your name is…?”

“Liu Tze Long, sir.”

Two pairs of eyes drill into him yet he returns the stare without blinking. “You know who I am?”

He nods. “I do, sir.” How could he not? Operation Nimrod gained international fame and besides, all special forces have their own celebrities, pass on gossip just as swiftly as the Hollywood scene. Vineyards work fast, especially concerning the British SAS, most acclaimed organisation worldwide. Tze Long has been following this man’s career for about a decade now, hungrily devouring every tasty piece of information he could find. This is his idol before him, in the flesh, and he still has trouble believing it.

“Good. This is James Porter.” The sidekick gives a half-hearted wave and a half-hearted smile. “You’re the one who interpreted the files on the laptop found in Macau?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Fucking bubonic plague”, Mike Baker mutters with a shake of his head, pushing back his sweat-soaked hair. “What do you reckon, Jamie?”

“Complete neutralisation asap”, comes the reply without hesitation, yet delivered like a disagreeable school report, “the files didn’t indicate the existence of more than one lab, so only one infiltration necessary. We’ll have the SDU assist us in gathering intel and coordinating the whole thing, go in, destroy the prototypes and samples as well as all data and leave.”

Tze Long nods mutely. They’ve identified the location of the extremist’s laboratory already which is why his superiors deemed it necessary to ask the Brits for help – their expertise in storming a building riddled with mercenaries and equipped with a worryingly potent biological weapon is limited. He doesn’t let his surprise over James’ astute observations show. He should’ve figured every member of the SAS has been recruited for a reason.

“Almost.” Mike leans against a table and Tze Long’s eyes drop lower all by themselves. “There’s no need to ask more people for help. We three are more than capable of taking down this megalomaniac – the fewer people can alert these terrorists to our plan of attack, the better. We don’t need the SDU’s fancy gadgets if we can help it. Right?”

The last word is directed at Tze Long who nods automatically. He indubitably knows best, seeing as how he’s not only still alive but also in active duty after all this time. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

“See? Even he agrees with me.” James simply rolls his eyes, visibly exasperated, but doesn’t dare object. If he had, Tze Long would’ve been appalled with the blasphemy. “You’re both knowledgeable in toxicology, so you better figure out how to get rid of this nonsense while I do observation and planning. Also, if you call me ‘sir’ one more time, I’m gonna personally feed you my badge.”

Tze Long opens his mouth, throws a glance at an extremely amused-looking Porter and decides against speaking up.

“Alright, let’s brainstorm on how to neutralise this plague without causing a medium-sized epidemic”, Porter turns to him with a cheerful grin. “Or, as I’d like to call it: the fun part.”

.

~*~

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Macau has never held any fascination for Tze Long for as long as he could think – the old Portuguese buildings, yes, but once he’d seen them, there was only glamour and glitz to discover, new ways of relieving encumbered tourists of their money and the vice-like grip of the Chinese government tightening on a city doomed to be a one-trick pony forever. He never bought into the explosive potential of the casinos, prioritised work over luck and ended up in a respectable place as a result. Things work out eventually, but always through hard work and not unnecessary risk-taking. He prefers necessary risk-taking.

This day, however, he’s come to experience it through someone else’s eyes and allowed the city to dazzle him as if he was a toddler experiencing the Lunar New Year fireworks consciously for the very first time. Everything is bright, loud, inviting and affordable, even for his wallet, and he takes great pride in explaining all the local delicacies, the colonial history and differences between Macau and Hong Kong, as well as Asian customs in general. Most Europeans he meets either already know their fair share about the region or are much more interested in an entirely different thing, so it’s with childlike wonder that he accompanies Mike and James traipsing through Asia’s Las Vegas.

They’ve washed up in a Din Tai Fung purely because Mike knows the restaurant chain and was thirsting for a little bit of familiarity after an entire day of concentrated culture shock – but not familiar enough to allow them to forget they’re in another continent, like one of the many American fast food chains might’ve done, even given their differing menu.

“I never would’ve pegged you for a gambler”, Tze Long chuckles in between dumplings and marvels not for the first time at the fact that conversing with one of the most renowned blades has become this easy over the course of a singular mission.

“Me neither, but results don’t lie.” Mike frowns at the cup of green tea before downing it in one go. He doesn’t look like a fan. “If you hadn’t dragged me off, I might be a few thousand quid richer.”

“If we hadn’t dragged you off you’d be on your fifth Singapore sling and probably hitting on a coat rack”, James states drily.

“A miracle – the man who bets on everything shies away from roulette.”

“Not everyone has your kind of pocket change. And besides, I only bet on meaningful things. Like the fact that I’m gonna eat more than either of you of these – what are they called again?”

“Xiao long bao.” Tze Long pokes at one of the steamed dumplings filled with pork and hot soup. “And don’t bother betting anything, my stomach becomes bottomless when it comes to them.”

“You look like you don’t have them very often, in that case”, Mike interjects with a grin and definitely did not expect Tze Long to mirror his expression and retort: “You look like you have them a little too often.” He’s come to learn that friendly banter is not only viewed favourably but also generally expected, and not for the first time he’s grateful for his extended interest in expats.

Once James is done laughing (which takes a while and is made worse by Mike’s glare), he suggests: “These things are bloody delicious, so I’m definitely not gonna lose. Let’s bet on a dessert.”

Tze Long agrees, and their banter continues. An outsider might not identify them as extremely recent acquaintances, not with how easily Tze Long laughs, not with how naturally James elbows him in the side, not with how nonchalantly Mike overlooks their antics. But near death experiences have a way of forming unbreakable bonds, invisible strings tying near strangers together and inspiring them to treat each other almost like family: an involuntary gathering of people who share a fundamental trust. It’s easier to ignore shortcomings or differing opinions when they’ve had each other’s blood on their hands, and never before has Tze Long felt this connection as strongly as with these two Englishmen. They will stay in contact after this, that much is obvious, and maybe he’s made friends for life.

Maybe he’s made more.

Mike was the first one to ask him for his number, and if he noticed Tze Long’s fingers shaking, he didn’t comment on it.

.

As expected, both of them end up too full to even think about trying the molten chocolate-filled dumplings nor the matcha cake, so they agree on a draw after probably having miscounted anyway. Tze Long shows his gratitude for Mike’s winnings paying for their meal by gifting him a charm for his phone, one that’s not too tacky and meant to bring good fortune, and because he doesn’t want James to be empty-handed, he buys one for him too. They walk off the food coma by one of the beaches; it’s cooled down a little over the course of the evening and so neither of them takes their shirt off. Shame.

They linger outside of the hotel.

“You’re going back to Hong Kong tonight?”, Mike inquires, stretching in the humid night air and displaying his long limbs like an unconcerned predator knowing it’s at the top of the food chain.

“Yes. I sleep better at home and the ferries go regularly even at this hour. It’s a shame about your flight, I would’ve liked to show you my home.”

“And I’d like to show you ours”, James replies, sounding surprisingly genuine. Usually, half of what he utters is sarcasm and the other half jokes – if he hadn’t displayed professionalism and competence during their mission on top of that, Tze Long might’ve refused to work with him outright. “If you’re ever in Europe, call.”

“And if you’re ever in Asia again, let me know.” He fidgets. His throat is swollen with all the half-sentences threatening to burst out, all the confessions he’s suppressing… but there’s a foreign body in the way and he’s not willing to lay himself bare before these attentive eyes which have been following his every move for days now. He’s long understood that laziness and disinterest are a cover to hide a sharp sense of observation as well as a keen mind. James prefers being underestimated. Mike, on the other hand, is as authentic as it gets – he never holds back, sees bluntness as a virtue and wastes no time in hiding. Enviable. Tze Long wishes he could do the same.

“I forgot to buy smokes, be right back”, James announces into the short silence and disappears as if he’d read Tze Long’s mind. The opportunity is perfect, made even better when Mike addresses him directly.

“I’m serious, it was a pleasure working with you.” His chest swells at the genuine compliment. “Even if you’re as suicidal as Jamie. You’ll get far. Do you have a lot of experience under your belt already?”

He omitted this fact as to not spark any doubts, but now he might as well admit it. “Actually, this was my first mission.”

Mike’s brows lift, just like the corners of his mouth. “And you waited this long to tell us? You son of a bitch, I don’t believe it. I have even less doubt about your future now. I hope to see you again soon.” He holds out his hand and Tze Long takes it, feels a warm palm against his own, a strong grip, melts under approving eyes. “You did well. I mean it. Take care of yourself, will you?”

Please, he thinks but doesn’t even dare finish the thought let alone allow his tongue to betray him, dumbly repeats the word in his head over and over like a mantra, like a spell he’s trying to weave. Please. Please. “Yes. You too. Have a safe flight.” And with those words, Mike Baker seemingly vanishes from his life. Silhouette starkly visible against the bright light of the hotel lobby, the embodiment of everything Tze Long wants and wants to be, he leaves, in his wake the hot night air clogging lungs and airways and hearts.

When Tze Long turns, James is silently offering him a lit cigarette. They share it without a word, just like Tze Long often enforced an awkward quiet between them through non-committal replies or flat out ignoring quips despite their wittiness. Looking back, he feels bad about it.

“Wanna join me upstairs?”, the Brit asks as he extinguishes the mutual vice and leads the way when Tze Long nods. Mind and expression carefully blank, they ride the elevator up and enter the luxurious room after James has unlocked it. It’s about the same size as Tze Long’s apartment in Hong Kong. “Shower? Your preference.”

He shakes his head and watches the other man approach him, closes his eyes only a second after their lips touch.

It’s always so obvious, with Europeans. They make no move to hide their interest or curiosity, seem to have no off switch whereas Tze Long has stumbled over vague acquaintances, locals whom he’d never have suspected in the past. James telegraphed clearly until he knew he was understood, and then continued unintentionally.

He’s a good kisser, at least. Considerate, adaptive, even playful – he manages to coax a few smiles out of Tze Long as they just stand there and kiss, despite him feeling like the entire last week didn’t even matter. He wouldn’t have felt like this even if they’d failed. But James is more and more successful in taking his mind off it, and for that he’s grateful. He does have a nice build, favouring the torso over legs but Tze Long doesn’t mind, not when he can run his hands over hard muscles and feel them dance below his fingertips.

They crawl onto the bed, James shirtless and unreasonably attractive-looking, dark mane fanning out on his pillow and ribs expanding prettily with every deep inhale over Tze Long toying with his tongue. He’s hard, both of them are, and it’s no surprise that the first piece of clothing James tries to undo are Tze Long’s trousers.

“I top”, he whispers against a swollen mouth and slides lower to capture an erect nipple with his lips.

James picks up on his phrasing. “Exclusively?” He doesn’t sound like he minds and lets out a beautiful little moan.

“Exclusively Westerners.” Tze Long doesn’t mention he rarely sleeps with locals as it is – many of them are a mirror to his own insecurities and remind him of the endless questions about his marital status. He’s met wonderful local men, yes, one wonderful woman too, an outlier who sadly didn’t stay by his side or else she could’ve made most of his life a lot easier, but when it comes down to it, he prefers the natural demeanour, the surprise over him having to hide, the cheerful forgetfulness concerning their cultural differences. It’s easier to not be reminded than to overcome.

“Had enough of white guy machos who come to the ‘land of the bottoms’ expecting everyone to fall at their feet?” He’s amused yet not mocking.

“Not far off”, Tze Long admits with a smile and leans up for another kiss which is eagerly accepted. He’s starting to get the impression James would be content with nothing but snogging the entire night and the thought makes him uncomfortable.

“It’s not a race thing”, James mutters, hands gently stroking over Tze Long’s body, “I just like pretty people.”

And I like people who take what I’m willing to give without much fuss, Tze Long thinks and marvels over how the body below his comes alive at his every touch. He’s a magnet and James made of metal, has no choice but to strain towards him, intense gaze fixed on his face. Somehow, it hurts looking at him. “What else do you like?” Tze Long parts legs with a soft push to an inner thigh and settles between them.

“Anything. I’m not picky.” Coming from anyone else, he wouldn’t have believed it, but it rings true for James. “Live out your fantasies.” He smiles and means it, despite his next words. “I know I’m a substitute.”

Tze Long’s mouth goes dry. His cheeks burn, actually feel on fire. Restless digits roam over exposed skin but none of its warmth manages to penetrate his own. He feels cheapened, caught. He knows James noticed. He just thought he’d have the decency not to mention it.

He tries to save it with a kiss, but it’s sticky, sickly sweet like too much candy, the taste clinging to the roof of his mouth. Like Macau itself, a pretty façade and nothing more. James can tell he’s not feeling it anymore, he’s sure.

“You don’t have to”, James says, so full of understanding Tze Long’s stomach is in knots.

“I want to”, he lies. Kind eyes blink up at him. James really is handsome, at third glance. He imagines what it’s like to actually fuck him. He wonders what he’d feel like afterwards. The thought is sobering.

“How about we walk around the city some more instead? There were other places you mentioned we didn’t get to see. I’ll just skip sleeping.”

Tze Long doesn’t ask whether it’s really alright with James. He just nods and gets up.

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~*~

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Confrontation goes against his nature. He’s always cultivated a healthy mix of empathy and disillusionment with humanity as a whole, both to understand other people’s actions as well as not care too much – he’s self-sufficient, needs little to be content, is ambitious without being overzealous, and he believes that everyone eventually gets what they deserve. Picking fights, holding grudges, none of it appeals to him, instead seems clunky, awkward, unnecessary. He lives and lets live, expects others to show him similar courtesy but doesn’t cause a fuss when they don’t.

This, however, is different.

“I’ve been working on this for two months, as you’re well aware, and now you’re saying I won’t be permitted to bring this mission to its conclusion?” His tone is even but his fingers flex, betraying his anger, even resentment.

Mei Lin had to pull him aside so they don’t have this conversation in front of the rest of their team, for which he’s grateful, though he hopes it doesn’t appear as if he’s questioning her authority. She’s gotten enough shit as it is. “Yes”, she replies curtly. “This is non-negotiable. Leave.”

Tze Long catches his fury before it breaks out of him. He respects her like no other, and unlike his peers, doesn’t hold her to higher standards just because she’s a woman. She’s had to work twice as hard to receive half as many commendations. No, this isn’t about her. “You know my work is important to me”, he appeals to her sense of duty, but he’s got the impression he’s not talking to her in her function as his superior right now, despite all.

“This isn’t your call to make either way.” He believes it. If their roles were reversed, if he begged her to exclude him from the mission yet she deemed him irreplaceable, she wouldn’t allow it. “I will bear the consequences. I am aware of what I’m doing. And you need to go.”

He sincerely hopes she’s not committing career suicide, not after she’s fought her way into the SDU, clawed her way up with iron discipline and excellent results. She could have him officially rebuked for insubordination if he refused and stayed. So he doesn’t.

.

A few hours later, he feels his father’s pulse fade under his fingertips.

.

Tze Long feels like he’s underwater. Like he’s a singular grain of sand, mercilessly and relentlessly being tossed around by the tide, ground up against his brethren over and over again until they’ve all lost their edge, become smooth and round and compatible, until they make up a pretty picture as a whole, with their personal identities vanishing in favour of making up a greater good.

A metropolis like Hong Kong seems to have this effect on people – at least on most of the ones he’s met. They turn into exchangeable faces, rehashing the same conversations over and over, fulfilling their purpose and causing no ruckus. Oiling the machine. On bad days, this impression weighs him down amid the traffic noises, the daily rush to work and back, the desperate attempts to take the mind off everything. On good days, he manages to spot beauty wherever he goes, smiles and small gestures of kindness, the shocking diversity of the city representing unification and celebration of life in all forms. Hong Kong is colourful in more ways than one, if he dares to look.

Today is a bad day.

He’s frantically chewing on a toothpick while tonguing the sore spots in his mouth where he poked himself before. A friend suggested replacing cigarettes with something else to keep his mouth occupied and help suppress the addiction, and after dismissing chewing gum and carrots, he’s landed on this. So far, it does nothing to quell his anxiety.

When Mei Lin leaves the building, her expression is unreadable until she’s stopped right in front of him, blinking up into the painfully direct sunlight. They study each other, both looking for signs of weakness not to exploit but to encourage. Eventually, she nods. “We’re good”, she announces and both of them slump a little in relief.

What she really means to say is: I’m good. But Tze Long doesn’t correct her. “What did he say?”

“He was understandably upset I would force you off the mission after you’ve been the most involved op in the whole thing. He blamed me for being soft, for endangering the rest of the troop by replacing you. And he told me I shouldn’t have let you know about the call.”

Tze Long nods silently. It’s what he expected.

If she’d told him of the call afterwards, he wouldn’t have been there to witness his father’s last breath.

“But there was someone else there. SAS. Apparently a friend of yours.”

His stomach flips. Did he really come? He wouldn’t have thought – he messaged him that day, late at night, not expecting a reply as usual. Responses were scarce, have always been, so he figured he’d get a supportive text back in a week or two. Not this. His heartbeat quickens and he has to hold himself back to let Mei Lin finish instead of charging the building.

“He wanted to know what happened and then offered his own advice. I’ll spare you the details, they argued a bit, but he held the opinion that amid our discipline and rigorous training, we mustn’t forget we’re also human. Because this humanity is the entire reason we’re doing any of what we’re doing. And in his opinion, I acted according to this ideal and therefore shouldn’t be punished.”

“That does sound like something he’d say”, Tze Long agrees quietly.

Both of them turn to the busy street as if on signal, take a deep breath, compose themselves. He wants to embrace her, wonders whether she’ll take it the right way. Everything is impermanent, he recently received a sharp reminder of this, and his need to cherish everything he still has left throbs behind his temples. Instead, he settles for an earnest: “Thank you. I didn’t agree in the moment, but I do now. You made the correct call.”

“I know.” She fixes him with a gaze so full of sympathy that it paralyses him. “I’m sorry.”

He just nods again. Despite all, he wants to ask her about him, what he was like, whether she liked him, whether she understood who exactly he is. The realisation of how much he cares is frightening, even more so when he hears footsteps behind him, clearly approaching the two of them. He’ll never be ready to face him, never has been, and so he takes the plunge without hesitation and turns around, turns to -

“It’s just me”, James states almost apologetically the moment he must notice the disappointment in Tze Long’s expression.

Whatever it is, whether it’s the uncomfortable vacuum Tze Long has been carrying around with him for a few days already, hindering his ability to feel anything, whether it’s the relief of seeing a familiar, friendly face, whether it’s the fact that James just helped Mei Lin – it’s not nearly as big of a letdown as Tze Long would’ve expected. Yes, he’d hoped it’d be him. But after a second, he’s already come to terms with the fact that it isn’t, and if he’s completely honest, he doesn’t even mind that much. “Good to see you”, he says and means it.

James’ face lights up with a smile. “Good to be here.”

.

Their dynamic is different.

Tze Long fails to pinpoint why, whether it’s the long months – years, he realises – of constant communication, the fact that he’s not looking over James’ shoulder for most of the time, or the sad circumstances. He’s sociable enough, always enjoys making and keeping friends from all over the world which has come in handy not only at his job but also in his spare time, so he kept up the steady stream of messages between the younger Brit and himself. It wasn’t like they texted every day, yet he expected a message at least once a week and wasn’t ever disappointed. Usually, it was either a world event which occupied them, a remarkable injury on either side (like when Tze Long broke his toe by demonstrating his lack of skill on the tightrope, or when James dreamt bad, flailed around in his sleep and punched himself in the nuts), an entertaining story they came across or just a simple checking in. Casual, pleasant, inconsequential conversations.

Now that they’re face to face once more, James is much more tangible, with that singular dimple he actually pointed out at some point, the laid-back attitude which puts Tze Long at ease immediately, filled to the brim with terrible ideas and even worse jokes and never turning down a challenge. He’s a painting which has come alive, surprising in its actuality yet its core still intact. It’s not like meeting an entirely new person, more of… seeing a whole.

In the half-day they have available, Tze Long shows him Hong Kong. The flight leaves late at night and James bemoans the fact that he’s got trouble sleeping on planes as it is, so the jetlag will kill him, and Tze Long doesn’t ask whether he was in the area anyway, doesn’t ask when he arrived in the first place, why exactly he came.

He suggests Din Tai Fung once more but James shakes his head, inquires about other local specialties and trails after him until they reach the night market on Temple Street which isn’t as crowded as usual seeing as it’s only afternoon. Like in Macau, Tze Long revels in his position as tourist guide and points out miscellaneous facts, tells a few anecdotes and buys a chocolate-flavoured egg waffle as well as milk tea so James can munch and sip on something while marvelling at the colourful trinkets and embroidered clothes offered en masse. In order to get him to try as many stalls as possible, they share portions of dim sum, grilled squid and braised meat, and it delights him to see that James is willing to try basically everything – except for stinky tofu, which is understandable. Tze Long barely smells it at this point but he knows it’s quite off-putting to people not used to it.

Before they head to visit the nearby temples, he purchases fresh fruits to complete the culture shock: some lychee-like longans, a shockingly bright pink dragon fruit and a sweetsop, Tze Long’s personal favourite with its creamy, aromatic flesh. James’ curiosity knows no bounds and, very uncharacteristically, he doesn’t treat Hong Kong with his usual biting sarcasm. It’s not reverence he shows either, and Tze Long would be hard pressed to describe his attitude as anything more precise than simple enchantment.

They barely manage to get to Victoria Peak before sunset. Just like the rest of the city, the mountain is flooded with people, all trying to get the best selfie before moving on, whereas James leans against the railing on one of the viewing platforms and merely looks. Tze Long steps up next to him, close enough to touch, forcing the bustling activity behind them to the back of his mind and tries to see his home through James’ eyes. Below them, countless skyscrapers stretch upwards like fingers, reaching out for infinity.

“What about where you live?”, James wants to know after a long while. “I want to see where you used to work. Where you grew up.”

He shakes his head after some deliberation. “We don’t have time for that”, he lies when in reality he’s not ready to face this part of his life again, especially not show it to a stranger of sorts. His past feels deeply personal somehow, his struggle to end up where he is now like a secret he’d better keep. Part of it is simple vanity – he wouldn’t like to imagine James telling his colleagues, telling him. And of course, the one person who shared this history with him has now passed away.

James’ eyes are on him, attentive, almost waiting. “Next time?”, he asks, sounding hopeful. Tze Long wonders what kind of impression he’ll take away from this short visit.

“Yes. Next time.” He’s not sure if there will be one, but he hopes he’ll feel differently about himself by then.

“What was he like?”

A deep breath. How is he meant to answer this question? “Kind but firm”, he offers and puts a new toothpick in his mouth. “No time for nonsense but always willing to listen if something was on my mind. Distracted, at times. Whenever he found a gift for me, he’d present it so proudly. He was happiest when he could teach me things, show me the world. When he couldn’t work anymore, he -” His voice breaks, so he stops talking. Despite it not being his fault, guilt had plagued his father for decades. Having to rely on his only son, witnessing Tze Long’s struggle took its toll on him just like on Tze Long himself, though it changed into fierce pride later on, once he became a Flying Tiger. But he remembers the forlorn stare into their empty cupboards, the reassurances of being able to mend clothes, shoes, self-image.

James is going to get a sunburn and it’s not going to be pretty. He hasn’t tanned much this summer yet and Tze Long wants to reach out to protect his skin from the merciless rays. To maybe run fingers through his luscious hair. “He sounds like a good father.”

“He was.”

And despite the serenity of the moment, James actually goes there: “Your description of him reminds me of someone.”

Tze Long fights down the urge to simply leave. He’s better than that. “I bet you won’t drink a whole glass of durian milk”, he switches topics and earns a side-glance he’s incapable of deciphering.

.

“- you should’ve seen his face when I told him to shove it, pure comedy, this dude was not used to anyone saying no to him, not with him built like a bloody fridge and that stupid fuckin’ tattoo on his forehead, something daft like carnivorous or edgelord, I don’t even remember, I only remember thinking: this lad must’ve randomly picked a word from the dictionary that sounded cool.”

Tze Long moves his own drink out of the range of James’ flailing arms but makes no move to interrupt him.

“And me, a foot shorter and seemingly harmless, refusing to budge? Well, you can imagine what happened.”

“I do hope you wiped the floor with him.”

“First he punched me in the throat, but yes, afterwards I most definitely wiped the floor but only because he tripped over some barbed wire, nearly shredded his entire dick and bled all over the fucking linoleum. That was the last time he tried to sell some fake insurance, I’m sure.”

Drunk James is adorable. He’s become a waterfall, largely unaware of himself not in an inconsiderate way but an endearing one, speaking his mind openly and demanding Tze Long’s full attention. He fills silences with anything and everything, after two cocktails already, and he goes deaf when Tze Long tells him that going on a plane while intoxicated might not be the best idea. They’re perched by the bar, sipping bitter liquor because today is just one of those days and let the soft pop music relax their muscles.

While he prattles on, rants about the next odd encounter, Tze Long gets distracted by the curve of his eyebrows and the hard jaw and he wonders whether he’s still interested. What he’d say to the suggestion of dipping into a hotel real quick. It’s less than an hour until he has to be at the airport, however, hardly enough time, but idly toying with the idea is fun nonetheless.

“Thank you for coming”, he eventually manages to interject while James takes a breath.

“Aye. Mike relayed the message and it sounded like you might get in trouble, or your colleague might. He’s off gallivanting around the Middle East somewhere I think, claims he’s busy doing recon or whatnot but I bet he’s lazing in the sun and resting his bones. Soon he’s gonna be the oldest bloke in the SAS, did you know? Fucker’s immortal. Some of the lads who bet on his retirement are gone themselves by now.”

Tze Long did not know this. He doesn’t know a lot of things about Mike. “I appreciate your help, in any way.”

“Believe me, your boss didn’t.” James grins and it makes him look years younger. “I might get shit for it but my major has my back. And I got yours. If anything else is up, let me know and I’ll travel half the world again.”

He has no doubt James would, and he tries to identify whether it’s a snipe aimed at him for texting Mike only, not him, but isn’t sure. His brooding is interrupted when he spots a familiar figure at the other end of the counter, glancing over and flashing him a wide smile. “Oh no”, he mutters to himself.

“I swear though, that bloody rotten egg fruit, whatever it’s called, I’m never touching one of those again, I still wanna throw up every time I burp.” James interrupts himself to follow Tze Long’s gaze. “What, someone making bedroom eyes at you?”

“Yes. He’s very charming, to be honest.” He sighs, shaking his head. Should’ve known better than to drag James to his usual club. “And very married.”

“That happen often?”

It’s too complicated to go into detail, so he nods. Having grandchildren continues to be one of the highest priorities in the life of a parent, and Tze Long has met many, many guys living a double life – one for society and their family, one for themselves. He’d rather not get involved with these men even if it means limiting himself.

“Want me to take care of it?”

The seemingly innocent question makes him huff in amusement. “Please don’t start a bar fight, I’d hate to get banned.”

“More than one way to show you’re not interested”, James mutters and true, he’s right.

Tze Long doesn’t even mind. He puts his toothpick aside.

They meet halfway between their chairs and James’ corners of his mouth are turned upwards when they do. He tastes of rum and tobacco and the tendrils of addiction pull at him enticingly at the reminder of what he’s given up; the background noise fades in favour of his own heartbeat and James is still smiling, never once stops. His smile feels like a thinly-veiled accusation and a self-satisfied victory simultaneously and yet Tze Long can’t get enough. James switches to his chair, actually settles on his thighs without breaking the heady touch of lips on lips, clearly uncaring of the spectacle they’re putting on. Tze Long’s hands stray to his sides and for once, he’s not picturing a different body between his palms.

“I think we’re good”, he murmurs after a while, after all decency is long overthrown.

“Hmm, no, he’s still looking”, James hums back without even opening his eyes once, smile widening, but when Tze Long withdraws, he relents and instead pulls him into a hug.

And it just overwhelms him. The rare feel of a warm body makes him realise he hasn’t deliberately, consciously touched another human being in days, reminds him of the empty apartment he’ll return to, chock full of memories and shards which don’t cut deep by themselves yet make up a fearsome blade as a whole; reminds him of the desperate loneliness which creeps up on him now and then, whenever he’s weak, whenever he lets it. He thinks of the eternal double check mark, message received, thinks of his colleagues’ triumphant faces as they recounted the successful mission without him.

He clings, hard, and only notices the supportive arms wrapped around him once his fingers have stopped shaking. He’s breaking down in the middle of the bar, visible to everyone, to people he knows, and the shame burns almost worse than his grief.

Regardless, James is still there. Whispering nothings, stroking his back soothingly, acting as if none of this was out of line. His warmth is painful because he’s unsure how to repay it, but right now he has no choice but to accept.

“It’s okay”, James tells him like he really believes it. “You’ll be alright.”

.

~*~

.

He turns out to be correct, even if it takes some time for Tze Long to wholly believe it.

A piercing stare accompanies the realisation together with a suffocating amount of information he’s expected to digest and memorise, and yet he couldn’t be happier. The office is nondescript and icy for his standards and he can already tell it’ll take some time to get used to this part of the earth.

“I am very happy to know you in our team”, Six finishes with a seriousness Tze Long respects. “Welcome to Rainbow.”

“It is an honour.” He matches her tone. “I’m looking forward to working with you, ma’am.” He knows when he’s dismissed, gets up and ready to start this new chapter of his life, but curiosity gets the better of him: “May I ask – am I the only one of my unit you’ve recruited?”

Six’ expression softens. The formal part is over, she can rest assured all her points have come across and therefore she allows herself some friendliness. “No. One of your colleagues will join us as well – Mei Lin Siu.”

He finds himself smiling. “That is an excellent choice, ma’am.”

“Funny. She said the same thing about you.”

.

~*~

.

England is cold, empty, quiet and boring. And Tze Long is surprisingly fine with it.

He traded comfortable warmth for considerably less rain – even if the Spanish operators give him an odd look over this statement – and exercising outdoors is less suffocating, less of a chore. Admittedly, he could do without winter but after having been enlightened about layers, sealing gloves and sleeves and other tricks which Mira and Jackal divulge gladly, it’s not that bad. Even if summer has him a little homesick now and then. Sometimes he also misses the liveliness of his home, the many faces just like his, the natural way people accept each other as an inevitability. Here, it happens that existing in a space earns him disapproving glances.

But it’s quiet. He sleeps like the dead, hasn’t been this calm in decades and finally finds enough time to really pursue hobbies he had to neglect previously: he reads for days on end, dabbles (and generally fails) in a few crafty endeavours, follows the news from the silence of his apartment, feeling secure, comfy, safe. He picks up cooking, much to James’ delight, and together they spend a weekend on xiao long bao, having to re-do the dough several times and despairing over the soup gelatin only to give up and attempt it again a week later, nailing it first try. And whenever the muted quality of this country threatens to overwhelm him, he puts on some music, a film, or simply invites James over.

He doesn’t have many complaints, not when he spends most of his free mornings in bed with a steaming cup of coffee by his side and phone in hand, the world under his fingertips. Still, it required some getting used to the way people treat each other, the blunt and direct style of communication, the many gestures which would be deemed horribly rude in Asia.

Tze Long idly ponders cultural differences while Mike hands him a bowl of rice, chopsticks simply stabbed into it.

Next to him, he can sense James’ eyes widening before he quickly snatches the utensils and holds them out to Tze Long instead. They share a secret, slightly embarrassed smile, just like they did when Mike presented him with four sample bottles of whisky from his favourite distilleries – he can’t expect everyone to be aware of common superstitions, but he would’ve guessed the social stigma around the number four would’ve been widespread enough to have reached Mike’s ears. Even Mark pulled a face in the background, and James elbowed him, accepting one of the bottles gratefully.

Mike is trying, that’s the part which counts, and Tze Long is fiercely appreciative: he hasn’t celebrated his birthday properly in an eternity, certainly not with colleagues which have become more than that over time, and certainly not with gifts as thoughtful as the ones he’s received (like the high quality tea from Mei Lin, and an entire book series of English classics from James). Mike is trying, and as he’s come to realise over the years, this doesn’t always amount to much. But it doesn’t matter, provided he manages his expectations.

Somewhere along the way, he’s stopped drinking up literally every single word dripping from his lips, stopped blindly accepting, stopped the worship. Mike is a friend. Mike is even a bit of a shit friend a lot of the time, yet his heart remains in the right place – which is a little distant, a little distracted, and far, far away from Tze Long’s.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever cooked”, he informs his gracious host matter-of-factly, and can spot the flattered happiness through the ensuing modesty. It’s certainly not the best thing he’s ever eaten, but his statement remains true nonetheless. Aniseed in curry is courageous and the result a little odd yet edible, and so complaining is the furthest thing on his mind.

When Mike is back to bustling around in the kitchen, Mei Lin quietly asks the other guests: “He really went all out. Does he do this often?”

“Never”, replies Seamus, sounding amused. He looks a giant next to Tze Long’s comparatively dainty teammate, though they seem to get along well. “He’s forgotten Mark’s and Jamie’s before, and gave me out-of-date rum truffles for my birthday.”

“Aren’t you on a diet?”, she asks, prompting a meaningful nod.

“He really cares about Tze Long, even if he’s not sure how to show it”, James interjects, sounding bored. “They’ve been friends for a long while, after all.”

“We have been friends for a long while”, Tze Long feels the need to point out. James’ eyes slide over to him, bore into his skull, almost intense enough to cause him to lower his gaze – but he doesn’t. He knows what it’s for, all the dismissive replies in the beginning, him acting as if the clown (whose humour meshed surprisingly well with his own, who was willing to undertake the same risks as him, who watched his every move) was invisible. If he could go back, he’d act differently. If he could go back, he wouldn’t spend a significant amount of his life chasing after a castle in the sky.

But he did, and now it’s done.

“We have”, he affirms, and instead of agreeing, James gets distracted by Seamus addressing him, and this simple fact shouldn’t bother Tze Long as much as it does. He doesn’t have a monopoly on him, he has to regularly remind himself of this. He didn’t earn the right to have one.

.

Joining Mike in the kitchen feels less like a conscious decision and more of an escape. “I can’t thank you enough”, he begins and is immediately interrupted by a scoff.

“You could lie and tell me this blobby pudding isn’t the most sorry-looking excuse for custard you’ve ever seen.”

“This custard looks delicious”, Tze Long lies smoothly and Mike’s gruff laugh mends his brittle soul a bit. They’ve learnt to interact with each other without any of the awkwardness prevalent in the beginning of Tze Long’s time in Rainbow.

“Good lad. And you don’t need to thank me, it’s the least I can do. For once, you could shut up and accept people being nice to you.” It’s ingrained in Tze Long to fight for the bill, react modestly to and dismiss compliments rather than accept them, refuse gifts a few times when receiving them. He opens his mouth to object, but once more Mike is faster: “I’ve received complaints about you, you know. You’re being too bloody nice – people just need to mention a book and you’ve already promised to let them borrow it, you give lifts to unsuspecting whiners and generally are too friendly. We’re in fucking England, no one knows how to deal with that shite here.”

Tze Long grins, even if he’s aware Mike isn’t purely joking. “Are you suggesting I’m not already playing my part in making our work environment… more toxic?”

The eye roll he receives is inordinately satisfying, yet his triumph doesn’t last. “No, lad, I’m telling you to go out and bloody take something for yourself. Something which you’ve wanted for a long, long time. You’re allowed, you know? You’re allowed to demand things.”

And this strikes a chord. The smile on Tze Long’s lips fades the further the words sink, float down, down, down into the murky depths of his subconscious which reacts with instant, intense panic. Because they only become louder the deeper they reach, their echo reverberating and creating a cacophony making it impossible to think straight. Unhelpfully, his conscious mind provides a solution, the one suggestion which he’s carried on his tongue for years, wrote on his forehead, the one truth he thought irrevocable: “Are you telling me to ask you out?”

The awkwardly-shaped sentence lodges in his throat, causes the gears in his head to grind and shriek, and it’s wrong, so wrong, if Mike says yes he’s never setting foot in his flat again, fuck the idolising, fuck professional relationships, he’ll curl up in ball and shake and shiver and shudder because no, it’s not what he wants, maybe something he never wanted in the first place.

While he’s still reeling from what’s raging on inside him, Mike throws him an almost pitiful glance. “Not me I’m talking about”, he grumbles. “I mean the one bloke whose friendliness you’ve always accepted without any protest.”

And isn’t that the fucking point?

It’s the one person who consistently made him lose face, no matter what, humiliated him with his displays of adoration Tze Long could never hope to repay, proved him unworthy with every breath he takes, and his presence burns under his fingernails, a constant itch chipping away at his honour because he deserves none of it and yet he wants. Oh he wants. He’s humbled by every easy laugh following disrespect, and the more this shadowy figure was pushed away, the harder it tried to keep up, and keeping it hazy is so much easier than allowing its entire being to invade every nook and cranny of his life.

Only -

That already happened a while ago, didn’t it?

James is outside, an unopened beer in his hand and smoking by himself because Seamus doesn’t endorse his addiction and Mei Lin and Mark hate the smell. He’s glowing in the setting sun, illuminated almost from the inside and Tze Long viciously wishes his brilliancy was contagious. “What’s wrong?”, he asks, unaware of the storm raging behind Tze Long’s unchanged exterior.

“I’m cold”, he replies, earning furrowed brows.

“It’s July.”

“Yes.”

They look at each other. James’ lips purse around the cigarette and Tze Long wants to grab the bottle and smash it on the asphalt, just to expend some of the energy throbbing through him. “Did Mike say anything? Are you okay?”

“I bought two tickets to Hong Kong.” And it’s out. With this, he’s handed himself over and there’s no going back.

“You’re going with him?” Carefully neutral. James stubs out the cigarette and takes out his key ring with its bottle opener attached. There’s a piece of string, too, displaying some of the decorative beads Tze Long recognises easily. The charm must’ve fallen off or broken after extensive use over the years.

“I wouldn’t want him to come along.”

Busy hands pause. He still doesn’t understand. “Mei Lin is accompanying you?”

“No.” They don’t have leave at the same time anyway. But he and James do. Always had.

Fingers twitch. Then slowly set the beer down on the stone steps behind them. He’s looking everywhere but at Tze Long, long hair falling into his eyes. “So -”

“I’ve been buying two ever since I joined Rainbow.” They both know how conscious he is of spending money.

“Jesus”, says James.

Tze Long is dizzy. He expected this moment to taste half-fermented, almost rotten, like a fruit ignored for too long, but instead it’s an explosion of refreshing flavour and pleasant sweetness, horrifyingly addicting. His face hurts and he realises that he’s grinning from cheek to cheek, must look like a lunatic if James’ expression is anything to go by. “Come with me. Please.”

And James seems to understand what he means, even if a frown tugs on his mouth and the face he makes is one of sorrow and not happiness, yet when Tze Long steps closer, James latches onto him like a drowning man.

His turmoil is far from appeased, but one thought prevails above all, forces his emotions to simmer down: I might not deserve this, he thinks, but he certainly does. He holds James until he’s shaking only with laughter, nothing else, the half-suppressed bouts of relief convincing him more and more of having made the right decision. They’re each other’s anchors, unwilling to let go, and beam at each other so brightly it blots out the sun.

“I’d love to”, James tells him in that rare, genuine tone of voice Tze Long has never heard him use with anyone else. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side.” His lack of hesitation only increases James’ luminosity. “I’ll show you everything, James. I’ll show you all.” This seems to convince him, no doubt due to the far-reaching implications.

This time, when they kiss, Tze Long knows for a fact he won’t feel his stomach drop afterwards. And it’s mostly because he knows it won’t be their last one.

[rpgchoices]

More on Davrin's character (his beliefs about gods and elves) (part 3)

I promise I will stop at part 4! I just want to collect all the possible info before I actually start writing fanfics. Part 4 will be specifically for his romance, tho I already wrote a small meta about it here.

This part contains SPOILERS mainly from Solas' murales/memories.

Part 1 (Davrin and his Dalish clan) here Part 2 (Codex, Davrin naming Assan and his journal) here

In this part I wanted to talk about:

Davrin and the gods (Solas' murales) plus some contraddictions with "Vows and Vengeance"

A bit more about Davrin's vallaslin (90% sure it is Andruil's)

Davrin's feelings abour protecting other elves

Some extra from the artbook (his age, when he left his clan, his armor)

Davrin and the gods/believing Solas' memories

Transcription of the video: (first scene) Bellara: And the mages who declared themselves my gods. Well, mine and Davrin's. And Rook's. Rook: They're not gods at all, much less my gods. Davrin: I'm with Rook.

(second scene) Emmrich: This is astounding! The ancient elves were spirits who voluntarily manifested a physical form! Davrin: I'd rather go back to talking about the blight. Taash: Hey, Lucanis. Could Spire turn into an elf? Lucanis: No. Bellara: Sorry, but. What? Rook: Okay, no. This whole spirit thing is stupid, and I vote we ignore it. Davrin: Seconded.

(banter) Bellara: Elf came from spirits! Emmrich: An incredible revelation of what happened thousands of years ago! Bellara: I asked Davrin what he thought, and he just shrugged! Emmrich: Ah, he would! Bellara: Rook! Do you feel any different? Rook: As an elf? Should I? Bellara: More spirit-y, maybe? I don't know.

While sometimes it is frustrating to see characters and companions not reacting to the big lore revelations, I find it works pretty well with Davrin. He is clearly uninterested in Dalish gods, even if in Vows and Vengeance he uses "May Andruil guide you on your path", and he is uninterested in openly (with others at least) talk about his feelings on the main revelations. Elves are spirits? He shrugs it away or decides to ignore it (much more interested in how this will affect elves than anything else), the gods? Not his, not interested in them.

He even calls Solas "Baldy" and is not particularly intimidated by him or by the two remaining Evanuris (or respectful of them). (And we also know he does not believe the Fade is real, tho much of that Emmrich banter seem more like he is teasing him).

Another small element of his relationship with the gods is another Vows and Vengeance comment. Someone mentions Fen'harel doing a ritual, and Davrin reacts quite alarmed, asking where the other person heard that name. Does he actually believe in Fen'harel? Or is it simply the idea that someone would use the name of the trickster god?

EDIT: UPDATE! There is a dialogue between Neve and Davrin where Davrin confirms he never truly believed in the gods, he always thought they were a myth.

Neve: Does it bother you they're elven gods? Davrin: It won't help our reputation, that's for sure. Davrin: But me, I never gave our gods much thought. They were just a myth. Neve: Not anymore.

I also wanted to say - yes, I know some discrepancies are probably writing related. To me the most "out of narrative" explanation is that the Vows and Vengeance writers did not fully consult about his character with the game writers, and the game writers rushed through these revelation and did not allow for many reactions.

About Davrin's vallaslin

In a previous interview the answer was not given (it was treated like it was supposed to be a big spoiler), but in the game, as far as I can tell, we do not see any identification for Davrin's vallaslin.

I talked before (here in part 1) about why I think it is Andruil's (or a mix of Andruil and Ghil) and now I am even more certain it might be Andruil. Not only Davrin is the one who tells of the tale of Andruil during the Solas' memories event, but in Vow and Vengeance he gives Nadia a blessing from Andruil:

Nadia: My love. He waits for me Davrin: Then may Andruil guide you on your path.

This is of course a Davrin pre-Veilguard. In Vow and Vengeance he also is alarmed by hearing that the Dread Wolf is doing something. I am a bit confused by how much he actually believes in the gods, at this point!

Davrin and protecting elves

In general, Davrin seems the only character to mention elves discrimination, mainly through banter or some rare comment here and there. We also know he is the only elf who lived away from other Dalish elves (different from Bellara who seems still in contact with her clan and lives with a group that highly respects elves), and we know he described his impact with the outside world as "different" (from what he imagined, see part 1 here).

At the end of the game, you can also have a banter between him and Solas:

Video here.

Solas: You are Davrin of the Grey Wardens. And judging by your vallaslin, you are Dalish. Solas: I expect you have been urging the team not to trust the Dread Wolf, based on the stories you heard around the campfire in your youth. Davrin: What story should I tell? The one about the Dread Wolf creating the blight when he and Mythal slaughtered the Titans? Solas: Have you told the Dalish? Davrin: Why? So it can spread and make humans blame elves for even more things our ancient ancestors did? Davrin: Sharing that story would get a lot of people killed. Davrin: So the best thing I can do right now, as a Warden and a Dalish elf, is to stop the blight and clean your mess. Solas: Mala shivanas ar athim.

(the last seems to translate as "Your duty humbles me").

A similar sentiment is shared after the "elves were spirits" memory from Solas:

The main core reaction we get about the Solas' revelations are not inwardly focused (his own reaction to them) but focused outwards: towards other elves. It seems not to be as important that Solas made the Titans tranquil as much as the danger of humans to blame elves. He is not as interested in elves derived from spirits, as much as he is interested in bigoted humans starting to see all elves as demons.

I think it is also interesting that he only mentions "humans", even if the reactions regarding the Titans would probably come from dwarves, it is clearly humans that in the DA world oppress and discriminate elves.

More Davrin info from the Artbook

I also just wanted to add this for completion sake!

He's in his early 30s and left his dalish clan in his teens. Usually elves (from the codex compiled in the wiki page) get the vallaslin around 18 or younger, so it could overlap to being just before his departure if he got the vallaslin in his clan.

Also the artbook says he created his own armor from different pieces!

I love seeing the stitches in his main blue-like collar jacket, and you can see some wear and tear on the rest of his clothes, especially the waist piece!!

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Bellara (and also the Veil Jumpers, and other random Elven things) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Davrin, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Bellara

Family and past:

Bellara’s mother is a woodworker who sells furniture in Orlais, and her father is an herbalist. He taught her about deadly plants (for her own safety)

Bellara didn’t tell her parents about Cyrian’s (second) death

Bellara once broke both of her arms while racing an Aravel 

Bellara learnt magic from her Keeper and later the Veil Jumpers, but she also studied a lot on her own by reading books and just trying things out

When she was little, Bellara wondered what it’s like to settle down instead of moving all the time (just like Davrin did) 

General:

Bellara can better focus on writing when she has background noise (like Rook talking)

Bellara likes tea (but can also drink coffee after she pulls an all-nighter, which seems to happen pretty often)

Bellara liked Lucanis’s grilled fish

Bellara didn’t know any Qunari recipes before joining the Veilguard

Bellara wouldn’t want to be an assassin, but she would be interested in taking lessons from Crows about assassination techniques

Bellara thinks that most people in Tevinter are condescending, even the nice ones 

Magic and life with the Veil Jumpers: 

Bellara once found an artifact that was basically an ancient elven mechanical toothbrush 

Bellara is a Veil Jumper because Arlathan is her home, and she can’t stand by and do nothing. Also, because of the artefacts

Part of the reason why Irelin and Bellara broke up is that Bellara became too consumed by studying/fixing artefacts 

Bellara and Davrin agree that the Veil Jumpers’ odds are even worse than the Wardens’

Bellara thinks that the ancient Elven magic feels cold

Bellara didn’t find anything on the Devouring Storm in the libraries or Circles. Vorgoth and Myrna never heard of it either 

Life at the Lighthouse: 

Bellara owns a bronze candleholder shaped like a fennec

Bellara thinks that the Fade in the Lighthouse is almost too calm compared to Arlathan

Bellara likes her space in the Lighthouse and feels like “it's been waiting for her”

The Archive sometimes stares at people who come by

Bellara eventually suggests that she and Lucanis completely take over the cooking. Everybody except for Harding dreaded any meal not cooked by them anyway and gleefully agreed

Antoine let Bellara borrow his compound for flaming arrows to see how it reacts in the Fade (she doesn’t speak about the results, but she used at least one compound for testing without incidents and later wants to borrow more) 

Relationships with companions: 

Bellara offers Davrin to listen about his findings regarding the Gloom Howler as he searches for the missing griffons, saying she's a good listener

Bellara asks Neve if she can become a Shadow Dragon and is very excited when she hears “Yes”

However, when Emmrich offers her to join the Mourn Watch, she turns him down saying that the Veil Jumpers need her. 

A writing inconsistency. Probably. 

Neve once saw Bellara poking around Assan, trying to figure out if he was real or some clever mechanical contraption 

Bellara wants to make pillows out of Assan’s molted feathers (but Davrin refuses because he finds it weird)

Bellara made dog biscuits for Assan (that Davrin accidentally ate the first time). The next time she brought a batch, she left them in a box labelled “Assan biscuits inside, do not eat.” Assan liked them!

Bellara once covered Assan in olive oil thinking it could improve his wind resistance and let him fly faster. Didn’t work. 

Bellara offers Emmrich to co-author a paper about ancient elves after they find out elves came from spirits

Bellara asks Emmrich about vampires multiple times. According to him, when a Hunger Demon possesses a corpse, the resulting abomination can seek out blood, sort of resembling a vampire. They can't turn into bats though

According to Neve, some magisters in Minrathous have tried bonding with Hunger Demons which resulted in them having immense power but also a craving for blood 

Bellara and Harding swap books for reading

Bellara gets into lifting using Harding's rocks

Bellara doesn’t think she needs to threaten Lucanis when she finds out he and Neve are dating because Neve could wipe the floor with him herself if she wanted (Lucanis agrees) 

Bellara is fine with Lucanis taking on Ghilan’nain’s contract (“Whatever we were worshipping, it wasn’t her") and cheered him on at Weisshaupt

Bellara asks Neve to beta-read her story

(If Neve and Rook are in romance) Bellara thinks that solving cases together is romantic

(If Neve leaves after Rook chooses to save Treviso) Bellara kept notes of everything that happened while Neve was away to help her adjust after she’s back

About the Veil Jumpers:

Bellara mentioned that a certain elf camped in some ruins, and one day woke up stuck in the clouds. The Veil Jumpers haven’t figured out a way to get them down, so they just send them food and water

Veil Jumpers use some of the artefacts they have recovered as weapons. However, they don’t use them often, since most of them need to be charged after one use, and nobody really knows how to do that 

Veil Jumpers eat whatever Arlathan Forest provides

Though Bellara also mentions she doesn’t forage in the forest anymore. Strife does, however, he always finds something edible

It’s hard to say how many Veil Jumpers are out there because people die/go missing/leave too often to keep a proper count

The Veil Jumpers once found an artefact that caused whoever activated it to get sucked into the Fade. One guy got trapped inside because he used it even if the others told him not to. Bellara is weirdly nonchalant about that whole thing

The Veil Jumpers once found something like an entrance to the Deep Roads on the Southern Edge of Arlathan Forest. The group that found it sealed themselves inside and destroyed the entrance, leaving a note telling the others not to enter. Davrin hypothesises it could be one of the pools similar to the one we saw in the Horrors of Hormak

Ritsivas from the Veil Jupmers is non-binary (mentioned by Harding in a conversation with Taash)  

Misc:

The power crystals are called “June'suledin'bellanaris'ena'ghilan'lasa'shiral”. You may infer the reasons everybody just calls them 'power crystals'

Not all traps in Elven ruins were originally meant to be traps, but their magic is old, so it doesn’t recognise modern people and can backfire. And sometimes magic just degrades over time and accidentally rips the Veil, summoning demons

Andruil’s Gauntlet is an ancient site meant to test hunters who want to wield the mightiest weapons. It’s filled with traps, and no one has made through it in ages. It was made by Andruil’s priests to test the warriors of Elvhenan 

Clans Nuvenis and Sabrae live in Ferelden. Harding’s village traded with the Sabrae in the past

[dolphinitley]

Far Cry 5 Companions Ranking

Tagged by @naromoreau 😄

Tagging: @flyawayturtle @superbcatstudents (no pressure if you don’t feel like it just ignore it)

9. Adelaide Drubman-I only use her for “Blow Their Mine” and taking the Jessop Conservatory. She always seems to go down the fastest and her dialogue can get a bit cringy at some points. Also she and Jess get v snippy with each other.

8. Cheeseburger-I love my big baby chzburger and he can take so many bullets for me when I need a distraction. Since I’m more into stealth, he doesn’t get a ton of use.

7. Grace-My first playthrough I used her all the time, but in my Infamous playthrough I did not as much. Idk why. I do know that I use her and Jess for the Chalet mission. They get everyone down and all I have to do is go in there and plant the bombs.

6. Hurk-Mostly very funny dialogue and his RAT4 is useful when Nick is down and can’t protect me from Chosen in planes.

5. Sharky-I keep the fire man with me most of the time just to hear his dialogue, but when it’s time to stealth for real I gotta send poor bb away.

4. Peaches-Rebel girl who runs with me because her real mom is cranky. I give her lots of pets. She is very fast and sneaky and can jump super high to kill Peggies!

3. Nick Rye-Sweet grumpy man. He is a savior when I’m being constantly hunted by Chosen in planes. I don’t even have to worry about them when he’s on my roster. Also he helps me with the “Blow Their Mine” mission and that mission is a bitch.

2. Boomer-My best boy. Saves me from using ultimate hunter ingredients. Helps me big time when doing hunting challenges. Brings back small birds when hunting. Takes down Peggies.

1. Jess Black-She is my go-to GFH. Has more kills than any other by a long shot. She is silent, quick, and effective. Her banter is not too bad either.

Bonus-The Seeds

4. Faith-Her story is interesting and I wish we had more info on her.

3. John-He is truly the baby brother and he has depth despite seeming like a superficial bastard.

2. Joseph-Charismatic cult leader. Impossible not to watch him.

1. Jacob-They’re all hot and awesome but Jake owns my heart. Big stronk. Scars. Complicated past. Gives the fuck me eyes constantly. Need him. The thirst is real.

Bonus-My favorite weapon: MP40

[maple-clef]

Lies Sleeping obligatory flail

Well, that was a helluva ride!

Spoilers in review behind cut, obvs.

There’s a fun reference in Lies Sleeping to Sneakers, which happens to be a film I’m fond of. The scene referred to is where Whistler, a blind man, is coaxing Marty to reconstruct his journey in the boot of a car, using audio cues to trace where his kidnappers took him and culminating in a flamingo “cocktail party” by a reservoir which allows them to locate the baddies’ HQ. You should watch the film, it’s pretty great and a lot of fun. I was actually talking about it with my husband the other day, partly because we went past a load of geese at a bird reserve and they sounded like the flamingos, but also because we both reckon it’s a film that has aged well - if you ignore the specifics of the technology side of things. And thematically, it happens to resonate quite strongly with Lies Sleeping, too.

It’s all about power, and who holds it, and what you would do if you could take it: get some lever, some key which gives you access to the reins of power and lets you rewrite the rules. No more secrets, let it all hang loose... You can see how it resonates today in things like Wikileaks, the breakdown of trust between people and their governments and also the populist surge behind Trump and Brexit. People are angry, and they want to burn it all down - the system isn’t working for many, and that anger is exploited in a cynical way by the usual suspects: Farage, Trump, Boris. Entitled types who spin a speech, whip people into a frenzy. They aim to bring down the whole applecart, and ooh - they’ve got a brand new cider press they’ll sell you for the right price. See also: The Big Short etc.

And that’s kinda what Lies Sleeping is about, on one level. It’s about Brexit Britain - the people who insist the country is broken so that they can further break it and re-mould it in a fashion which pleases them, and those who understand that it’s not perfect, it’s often a bit shit, but let’s try and make it better and anyway it’s not a good idea to sink your own liferaft, who are trying to plug the leaks. Peter, Nightingale et al. (law and order, keeping the Queen’s Peace for the benefit of all) are in the latter camp. Chorley is - as we’ve always suspected, I think - a Boris, Bullingdon club figure. While he hides behind the conceit of wanting to make Britain great again, his “romantic” notions of reviving the greats of Arthurian legend to do this turn out to be a lie: he doesn’t really believe it. He just wants power. To make a legend of himself. Lesley does, I think, believe it - she talks in vague but apparently sincere terms about wanting to make the world a better place, in the vein of so many Brexiters. She even echoes the dissatisfaction that many have with London, the idea that the city bleeds the rest of the country dry. Peter denies this, because he’s a staunch Londoner and how dare she (although I’m not sure he really addresses all her grievances). Although in the end, she mostly wants revenge on Punch. She’s hurting and she wants to hurt him.

In Sneakers, Marty’s old friend Cosmo talks the talk about wanting to change the world too, but ends up wanting mostly to turn a profit on anarchy. But their estrangement and the different ways they both feel the other has moved away from their (originally strong) friendship and partnership kind of reflect Peter and Lesley’s arc, too.

Okay, enough about Sneakers. Although you should totally watch it.

I loved the book - it felt really solidly plotted, and there was lots of meaty stuff I’m sure we’ll all be talking about for a while in terms of the Follyverse: the new info on Molly’s background, and her new companion was a particular favourite thing for me. We also get a hint at Guleed levelling up, the Chinatown arrangement (hers and the Folly’s), quite a bit of additional background on the Folly’s history, the pound shop version of the Folly (in the Paternoster Society), *lots* of cool scenes in the proto-London-verse with the old (and new?) Rivers, another Court, this time upstream and oodles of Rivers stuff.

It was really interesting to see how the Folly had expanded by necessity and been brought more firmly into the fold of the Met, operations becoming much more of a team affair. With all those extra Met staff and with the additional help from Doctor Vaughan and Abigail, and more regular Postmartin involvement, Peter and Nightingale (and Guleed, and Carey) get freed up to go and do their action-filled actioning, which I think was part of why there was so much ground covered in this one, and why the pace never felt like it was laggy. The exposition could be farmed out and kind of drip-fed, rather than Peter having to essentially do all the leg-work (which can make pacing difficult in a first-person pov).

I felt that it was a really satisfying story, and that it did a really good job of bringing together lots of threads and characters and themes that have been initiated in the earlier books, and really weaving them together in a meaty and filling way. Like... a Greggs pasty (I’m hungry okay). It was so thorough that it really felt like an end to the story arc that began back in the first book - obviously the Punch/Lesley story bookends things, but it also feels like a definite punctuation in terms of most of the characters’ arcs. I obviously am not hoping it ends here, and don’t think BA has said anything about wrapping up, but it *could* conclude here and it would feel finished, I think.

But there are plenty of unresolved things, too - Peter’s fatherhood (!), what Lesley does/becomes next, and all the possibilities that come from opening the Folly up, with Guleed and Abigail becoming practitioners in their own right. And Peter hints at further recruitment, to aid in his reorganisation efforts and to ensure the SAU can sustain their workload... Nightingale’s retirement plans (!) and new pupils...

I also am keen to see more from the Rivers and explore their weird dual persona/timey wimey stuff, and the High Fae, and what goes on in America (is there a new Yellowstone, now, and what are they like?) and elsewhere in the former colonies... The idea that they’re taking Peter’s lead and developing a network/outreach of their own beyond their watersheds is a fun touch that could be explored further.

So, plenty of exciting possibilities for future installments. Can’t wait!

Other nice touches - the character development for David Carey, the increasingly sympathetic Alexander Seawoll, the way that Peter and Nightingale are developing into more of a partnership as Peter levels up, the character of Nguyễn, Walid and Vaughan’s double act. Guleed and Peter’s banter.

The bonus story from Abigail’s pov was great - I’d be really keen to read more in her ‘voice’.

I’m sure I’ll have plenty more to say when it’s all sunk in, and when I inevitably re-read it, and read everyone else’s reactions and theories on here :)

The only complaint I have relates to the number of typos and errors I kept finding, which made me a little distraught if I’m honest. Partly because I’m a professional proofer/copy-editor and would have probably done it for free once I start seeing this sort of thing it becomes very hard to relax and enjoy the read, and partly because it was *such* a good book that it deserved to be properly shiny and finished off, and why don’t publishers invest in their products you’d think a flagship series like this would warrant it grumble grumble. Sad times. But only a bit.

[korydwenlavellan]

Korydwen Lavellan

So apparently @ironbullsmissingeye did a great Inquisitor Fact Sheet so Here I am doing it.

Age: 80, yes she’s old.

Gender: female

Race: Elf

Religion: Atheist

1 cute fact about your Inquisitor: she’s a great storyteller and very good at voice impression, though she couldn’t really show it to the INquisition

A picture or description of your Inquisitor’s favourite location: Skyhold’s crypt. There an energy in that cave that feels soothing. She usually goes there and watch the valley through the hole while Dagna and the blacksmith banter in the background.

Who your Inquisitor romanced/would like to romance(can be a picture or description): Solas. She immediately felt that he was older than he appeared (though she never imagined HOW OLD AS BALLS he actually is) and his views on the Fade were a breath of fresh air that was wonderfully fascinating and distracting from the chaos around her. He was also the only one not bothering her constantly about being a somehow godlike figure that she should embrace. On the contrary, it was helping keeping her sanity that he was supporting her in not acting all mighty and “I totally am the Herald of Andraste”. She regularly went on rants to him about people worshipping her after long days. 

Something creative of your Inquisitor(Fic, Art, picture, or another fact):

Info about your Inquisitor’s childhood(was it happy/sad?):

Her childhood was mostly happy and uneventful, although she had some struggles when she realized that her not believing in any gods wasn’t a very widespread attitude. She learned to hold her tongue and to navigate the constant well-meaning pushes from the people around her to make her “believe”. 

When time came for her to choose a Vallaslin, the only one that she could make sense of was Falon’Din’s. Not because she worshipped him but because she was never truly afraid of what would happen after death. Around that time, she became the Keeper’s second of her clan. She also married and had twins, one boy and one girl. Unfortunately her husband died during a bandits attack. She found love again a few years later when the Lavellan clan met another Dalish one during one of their travel. Her lover was a beautiful, although a bit too religious and superstitious huntress. They couldn’t always be together but they had a beautiful and long story. She passed away at the beginning of the 5th Blight.

1 random fact about your Inquisitor: She’s twice grandmother.

Your Inquisitors usual companions: Cassandra, Varric, Cole, Solas

Are they a rogue, mage or warrior? What’s their class?: Mage, Knight-enchanter

Who did your Inquisitor chose to rule Orlais?: Celene and Briala

Who did the leave in the Fade and why? Alistair stayed behind, after learning what happened to the Divine, she had no more hope for the Grey Wardens and Alistair didn’t have anyone else left on Thedas unlike Hawke who had Fenris and Varric.

Favourite advisor?: She immediately took a liking into Josephine and how adorable and avoiding of violence as much as possible she is. She became close to a niece to her.

1 happy fact about your Inquisitor?: She is feeling extremely relieved to have dissolved the Inquisition. She knits to deal with stress and she’s a very fast knitter. She made scarves to her entire paty and she was touched to realize that in his haste to leave, Solas did took the one she made for him.

Did they save The Chargers?: Yes; she couldn’t sacrifice them so coldly, and she had hopes the Qunari could hold their ground..

Do they use a mount? If yes, which one?: ALVAR WAR NUG

Did they chose the Mages or Templars?: Mages, she didn’t see how the templar could be more helpful to close a breach into the Fade than mages, plus templar always gave her the creeps..

Did the disband the Inquisition or not?: Yes. She actually wanted to disband it as soon as she closed the very last breach. Being the leade of a small group is one thing, leading a political army is another. Plus having to be on her toes constantly because of spies made her skin crawl. And using assets that Solas knew all about seemed to be counterproductive to her. But her primary reason was that she wanted to stopped to be worshipped and to get back some control of her life.

1 sad fact about your Inquisitor?: Discovering, too late, that her grandchildren joined Fen’Harel’s troops after their mother (her daughter) died in labor, and were killed. They were barely out of their teenage years and it devastated her. It also furthered the divide between her and her son who never really like that she wasn’t a very conventional mother.

Favourite Dragon?: Mythal’s

Opinion of the Qun?: She listenes to Bull talk about it but most of it makes something recoil in horror inside her. The terrifying imperialistic use of it doesn’t help its cause. She finds it extremely limiting people’s potential.

Opinion of the Dalish?: She always have been thankful to be born in the Lavellan clan as it was one of the most open toward the rest of the world of the clan she could meet. She doesn’t hate them but sometimes, they’re inability to question anything or to try to look deeper into their own culture tires her and frustrates her. She does have some Dalish pride, as in it’s the culture she has been raised in and she loves some aspects of it, but she always was fascinated by all the other cultures her clan encountered and one of her dream was to be able to walk through those without fear and with only wonder. Meeting the Alvar was one of the best moment in her life.

Opinion of The Chantry?: Deep, deep, deep annoyance and exasperation and frustration and controled wrath against it.

1 headcanon for your Inquisitor: The Spirit that Solas sees attached to her is actually a Spirit of Life. And the Anchor rejunevated her body which made her wrinkles disappear through time (which deeply disturbs her)

What did they think of Inquisitor Ameridan?: Deeply saddened by his tragedy and how his lover preferred to die with how heartbroken she was. She was also horrified by the idea of Ameridan being stuck for 800 years and it was a sort of relief that he didn’t seem to realize how long has passed. It did made her more at peace with the nasty things people were saying about her. All in all, it made her accept that history books will most likely be telling a very twisted story about her (if any, that’s why she asked Varric to write it) and that she might very much become hated and reviled in century to come. It made her recenter her mind into the present and not what people were and will be saying about her.

[obsidianmichi]

Michi Muses: Solas, Wisdom, and Pride

I come back to Solas a lot because he bothers me, he’s bothered by for like 3 years now as this itch I can’t stop scratching. I find the flaws and foibles of his character fascinating, especially as his journey (and by extension the Inquisitor’s) is left unfinished.

Whenever I rewatch Babylon 5, I always get reminded of two very important facts. (Babylon 5 is important to understanding Weekes’ writing, though if you’ve never seen the series I can understand how one might miss the obvious road signs.)

1) Solas is not wise.

2) Solas mistakes having knowledge for wisdom.

Solas is supposed to be the ancient, elder wizard trope. The Merlin, I suppose, the Gandalf, the Elrond, the Galadriel, or the Kosh. The wise old guy who occasionally passes off bits of cryptic info designed to make the protagonist think and question the world around them. They give advice, usually based off the secret knowledge they’ve attained or due to the breadth of their experience which lends them greater insight into the human condition. It is not so much that they know the world’s secrets, it is that they understand the knowledge they’ve obtained.

Wisdom, after all, is to ken, to understand. The road to wisdom begins with understanding. No matter how much you think you know, there is always more you don’t. We begin at the beginning.

The character Solas reminds me of most is Galen from the short lived series, Crusade. Galen is a technomage, he’s from an order of traditional wizards for the setting. They’re secretive and hoard their knowledge. Galen is a character who is trying to be wise. He’s young, much younger than the others and acting in ways he shouldn’t be. He’s proud, and sarcastic, and enigmatic. He knows a great deal, but he doesn’t truly understand it. He is reckless, hasty, an emotional powder keg waiting to go off. He is caught up in what should be, rather than what is. This is obvious when you compare him to any other technomage in the setting or the series protagonist Gideon. An idealist, rather than a pragmatist. Someone trying to be what he thinks he should be, rather than existing as he is. Who knows more than anyone else, and because he does believes he knows better. Battered, bruised, and, if the series had continued, destined to be broken. There goeth the pride before the fall.

Yet, that fall is a necessary part of character development. The antithesis of Pride is not Wisdom, it’s Humility. Humility is the first step on the road to wisdom, in humility we are given opportunity to see outside ourselves. In order to be wise, one first needs to be humble or humbled. This is a necessary step on the road of nearly every legend of every religious leader ever, regardless of affiliation. After all, in order to understand we must first understand that we need to understand and recognize that we don’t. In order to be wise, our minds must be open to new ideas and alternate viewpoints. That there are others who know their subjects of study better than we do. Allow ourselves to be taught as well as instruct, even by those whose attitudes we find disagreeable.

If you listen to Solas’ companion banter, you’ll often find him focusing on the way things should be and asking why they’re not that way. With Sera, he tells her he knows who she is better than she does. Looking more for a kindred spirit than trying to discover who she is. It’s the same with the other characters, he decides he knows who they are before he begins discussion. (He’s wrong about... all of them.) If anything, his conversations are more about finding confirmation bias for his path than they are about discovering new truths in a world he’s been part of for a single year.

That is Pride. He knows better than anyone else, and he’s not really willing to reconsider. You can’t be wise or advise others when actively searching for confirmation bias. “They’re wrong because they don’t want to listen, not me.” Solas dictates to others what he believes to be right, and ascribes moral judgements to the cultures and people he disagrees with. He dislikes the choices they’ve made, so they either must be evil, ignorant, or both. (See also: Iron Bull, Vivienne, Sera.)

Solas has secret knowledge, yes, but he is not wise.

On the subject of my eternal irritation with Bioware and their world building. If we’re going to go with spirits as concepts or ideas, then their opposite is in their antonyms.

The opposition to Wisdom is the Fool. It’s Folly.

The opposition to Empathy is Apathy or Cruelty.

The opposition to Knowledge is Ignorance.

The opposition to Justice is not Vengeance, it’s Injustice.

The Seven Deadly Sins versus The Seven Contrary Virtues: Humility against Pride, Kindness against Envy, Abstinence against Gluttony, Chastity against Lust, Patience against Anger,  Liberality against Greed, and Diligence against Sloth.

I know, the Catholics get it done.

I don’t know if Bioware knew they played straight into the standard thematic juxtaposition between Kindness and Envy (given the way the quest runs and how Cole behaves, unlikely) with the Templar quest in Inquisition, but if you live in Western civilization you can’t escape Catholic symbolism, themes, and storytelling. They’re baked into our culture, whether you’re religious or not.

I get that the setting is working off the Warhammer 40k base, where Chaos is the primordial psychic center of the universe so everyone gets to have a say and the desires of mortals inherently corrupt, but if that was the case then there’d be more available versions of Bioware’s demons when the spirits are corrupted. Transformed into X by a specific individual who corrupts them, and not because that is the opposing force.

On a case by case basis, I can see the Anders/Vengeance connection because what Anders actually wanted wasn’t justice for the mages. He wanted vengeance. He didn’t corrupt Justice in set opposition to its nature, but changed it. Vengeance isn’t evil, it’s a natural expression of anger over perceived injustice. (You could, however, just as easily find Justice perverted by legalism and the law into defending the Status Quo. The problem here is that potential corruptive influences are endless. Humans have many different desires and thousands of ways to pervert singular concepts into negative aspects. One, however, does not mirror the other.) Justice itself can become evil, when it goes too far, when it grows cold and unfeeling, when it will not bend, and is not moderated by kindness, mercy, or compassion. (I might argue that the Spirit of Justice we see in the DAO expansion is actually Valor, not Justice. Just like Cole is Kindness, not Compassion.)

I’ll point out that Solas was probably never wise to begin with. He’s a classic ivory tower wizard of traditional fantasy. Knowledgeable? Yes. Intelligent? Yes. Wise? No.

That is the problem with DnD wizards, you know. Wisdom is a dump stat.