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morganaseren · 4 years ago

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Human/Goddess AU

I swear, I’ll think of a better title later, but guess who thought of a new AU about Leliana and her female Cousland?! I ended up writing like 24 pages this time around because I have absolutely no self-control over my creativity anymore. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Things to know:

The premise was originally based off this short comic.

No Darkspawn or Blight threat.

Maker and Chantry don’t exist due to polytheistic God/Goddess system (with some inspiration taken from both Greek and Irish mythology). It’s broken down further into a multi-tiered structure of major and minor deities—a ranking determined by power essentially—but all the human and elf deities tend to get along fairly well with one another. Dwarves don’t have deities as they still worship The Stone, which they don’t consider a god, and Qunari don’t have them either since the Qun is more of a philosophy than a religion that follows any god.

The Evanuris don’t exist as we know of them canonically in-game, so Egghead never tore the Veil apart, and none of the Exalted Marches ever happened. Elves are still long-lived and have complete access to the Dales, which is essentially their kingdom of sorts.

No huge racial divides exist, but the dwarves (outside of surface dwarves) and qunari (outside of Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth) still tend to be rather reclusive.

Class stratification, however, still exists between the rich and the poor of Thedas.

Gods play a fairly active role on Thedas for those pious enough to worship them, but their work—stemming anywhere from simply helping crops to grow or even helping to turn the tides of a war—is often unseen. Very few among the faithful rarely ever get to see a deity in person.

Relationships with mortals and gods do occur—and children are born through such unions—but it isn’t considered official unless a courtship ritual is completed, where the mortal partner would be granted the same divine protection of the god and allowed access into the immortal world. That becomes relevant much later in the story.

In this AU, Leliana’s human (she’s 15 when she first meets Niamh, but nothing intimate between them happens until she’s well above age) while Niamh’s a goddess.

Like all my other AUs, this isn’t finished yet. There is a small intimate scene way down beneath the cut, but it’s nothing explicit. Still, if you’re interested so far, check out the additional content below!

Leliana had always been blessed, others had said, but it was not by simple chance.

She was born to a widowed mother—Oisine—who worked to provide for her child’s happiness so that she might one day have a better life than her. For such love and care, however, Leliana wanted to be able to return it one day. Perhaps beyond their quaint cottage by the sea, she could someday buy her mother the riches and luxury she so clearly deserved.

It was also—were she to admit it to herself—a wish of her own desires, for she had always yearned for more than just a simple life.

One day, Leliana wandered into the nearby forest out of simple boredom. She had played amongst its trees for as long as she could remember, and she knew the winding paths of it like the back of her hand. By chance, however, she came across a pair of black-furred wolves who stood upon a trail she had never seen before. The animals didn’t seem at all skittish, and as they turned to travel further into the woods, they looked over as if to beckon her into following. Leliana did, and she eventually found herself before an old, cliffside altar overlooking the sea.

It was remarkably humble in its appearance, Leliana admitted. Strangely enough, she felt more of a… presence to it than any of the ostentatious buildings of worship she had seen in the nearby city. The altar before her barely stood at chest-level, and beneath the light of the full moon, she realized the stone of its structure had been worn smooth by time and the elements.

She frowned when she saw the multitude of dead leaves and dirt gathered around the altar, however, and she wondered when the caretaker of such a monument had last seen to it. Leliana looked over at her two wayward companions, but one was already lazing about on its back in a nap while the other simply sat on its rump, revealing a maw full of pearl-white fangs as it yawned at her in boredom.

“Well, you two will clearly be of no help,” she murmured to herself before proceeding to clean up the various bits of debris around the altar. She began scrubbing at the top slab with a cloth to clean the dirt stain upon it, but she heard something akin to the sound of wind shifting followed by a person’s shadow falling across the stone surface.

Leliana looked up abruptly to see a dark-haired woman standing opposite of her and stumbled back in shock, especially given the path beyond the altar led to nothing but a sheer drop into the sea. There was no possible way someone else could have walked past her without her notice, so how had she gotten there?

Nothing in the woman’s posture indicated she meant her any harm. If anything, she seemed largely curious as she gazed upon the now clean altar while slowly walking around it to meet her.

Leliana saw that she wore an impressive silvery-white pelt over the shoulders of her cloak—a shade so dark that she couldn’t see any of the individual folds in the fabric. It seemed to simply absorb any light that dared shed itself upon it. To her continued amazement, the woman’s eyes were also gently aglow, and for a moment, she wondered if she had trespassed upon a ghostly specter with that pale grey gaze quietly regarding her.

For even with all the tales she’s heard and even told herself, the utter truth of the matter seemed far too outlandish even to her.

“It’s been quite some time since someone last visited my altar.”

The accent was one that Leliana couldn’t readily place. It certainly wasn’t Orlesian, Neverran, or Antivan. The woman’s tongue didn’t linger on the vowels and consonants in quite the same way, but the intonation wasn’t quite Free Marcher in origin either. Still, there was a calm, soft-spoken nature to it—calling forth the mental image of a downy feather drifting along the sea breeze—that she found soothing.

“This altar…” Leliana swallowed hard to gather the courage to speak her thoughts. “It is yours then? I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude—”

But the woman gently waved off her apology.

“Had my familiars found you unworthy, you would not have been able to find the path here at all.”

At the title, both wolves behind Leliana immediately jumped up at the woman—no, the goddess—and proceeded to nuzzle at her face. They whined insistently for her attention, which only caused her to laugh. On their hind legs, the beasts simply towered over her apparently immortal guest, but she held their combined weight easily against her as she ran her hands through thick fur.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what to call you. I didn’t see a name upon the altar when I was cleaning it,” Leliana admitted.

“Hm?” Luminous silver eyes returned to her before glancing briefly at the stone monument. “Ah. Time tends to pass rather differently in your world. As such, I shouldn’t be surprised to see the text long eroded. If it pleases you to call me something, however, then you may call me Niamh.”

Leliana’s brows furrowed as she tried to place the name from the multitude of deities she had learned about over the years. “You’re the goddess of storms and the night sky, yes?”

Niamh seemed pleased at her knowledge, emphasized by the smile she gifted her. “Indeed I am. In any case, as you were kind enough to clean my altar, you are welcome to ask a favor of me.”

“Can it be anything?”

The goddess’ smile turned a tad more enigmatic then. “So long as the request is of equal value, then yes.”

‘Equal value?’ Ah.

Her mother had once told her to be wary of asking gods for favors, as they would always ask for something in return. It was their Law of Equivalent Exchange. If one didn’t word their wish carefully, a person could end up losing more than they gained, especially if the deity in question felt a mortal’s request wasn’t worth what was offered.

Leliana bit her lip. It would have been far too easy to ask for the riches to bestow upon her mother, but she couldn’t deny that she was curious about the woman before her. She’d likely never get a chance like this again, so she asked for something more manageable. Something that wouldn’t leave her with regret.

“Then, can I ask about you? About where you come from, and what all your powers are?” she asked, excitement soon superseding any apprehension she might have felt. “Are you the only goddess in the area right now, o-or are there more like you?” When those glowing, wintry-grey eyes simply blinked at her, she couldn’t help but blush, wondering if perhaps her usual curiosity and enthusiasm was too much for such an ageless being.

A dark head canted itself. “Just so I’m not mistaken, you desire nothing material for the task of cleaning my altar? You merely wish for my company so that you might ask your questions?” When Leliana nodded earnestly in response, Niamh released a small huff of laughter. “Well, this is certainly a first for me. As you wish then.” She briefly looked over her own shoulder, focusing on a point beyond the horizon, where it seemed impossible to determine where the night sky ended and the starlit sea began. “You have until the sun rises to sate your curiosity. Mind you, I might not be able to answer every question you have.”

Leliana nodded, understanding there might be secrets that needed to be kept.

Niamh then gently pushed one of her familiars away from her. The wolf—a male from what she could readily determine—had been resting his front paws on her shoulder to better lave his tongue over the woman’s cheek in continual affection. At being deterred, however, he uttered a low huff of disapproval before grumpily brushing his side against Niamh’s leg. He circled once around her form after she gave him a few solid pats before he slowly trotted back to Leliana’s side.

At such a close distance, she was better able to tell the difference between him and his female counterpart. While they both predominantly had black fur all over their bodies, the underside of his chin held silver coloring that trailed down to his chest whereas the other wolf’s grey patterning extended from chest to belly. Both seemed remarkably intelligent as they regarded her with aurulent eyes.

Niamh motioned for her to sit, and she did so without question. Leliana gasped softly when the wolf near her immediately laid himself down so that he could curl himself around her body, likely as a way to keep her warm from the cold sea breeze. His counterpart did the same for Niamh, who then began answering a few of the questions she asked earlier.

Apparently, some of the tales Leliana had been told as a child were true.

Niamh was one of three children sired by a mortal warrior that her mother Eleanor—one of the most renowned sea goddesses—had fallen in love with. Her brother Fergus was the eldest and was a god of protection, and her older sister Saoirse was a goddess of victory. Niamh then went on to explain it was entirely possible for there to be multiple deities with the same responsibilities in a given area.

“Even for us, it is impossible to be in two places at once,” she further explained with laughter in her voice—the sound of it as ethereal as moonlight shimmering across the sea. “If one mortal has need of us somewhere, then it’s simply more efficient for there to have other colleagues of similar gifts nearby on the off chance a similar request is made.”

“And there’s never been an issue with sharing an area like that?”

“It happens on occasion. A stronger god might be able to force others out to establish a claim over territory, but it’s generally considered… uncouth to do so, especially if it was done without provocation.”

Leliana frowned. “Then why risk doing so?”

“To gain more worshippers essentially. I’m sure you’ve realized that it’s rare for any one of us to be seen these days, yes? Our ability to linger within this world stagnates the longer we go without worship. If there is no one to remember or believe in us, then we lack… presence here for lack of a better word. Eventually, it means the end of our time here on your world. Some of us might choose to stay here for whatever time we are allotted and simply fade into the ether, or we return home from whence we came.”

“Does this have to do with your Law of Equivalent Exchange?”

Niamh tipped her head, impressed. “You’re well-learned. Yes. As powerful as we are, for us to be here, we need you just as much as the opposite might be true.”

Leliana hummed thoughtfully. “There are still people who pray to gods of the sea and sky for a safe voyage through turbulent seas. I can’t imagine you’d be in danger of being forgotten anytime soon.”

“For the time being. That might fade eventually. While the requests I receive aren’t fleeting, they are made with hollowed hearts. The sailors I help guide may yet one day feel they have no need of me—that my name is merely superstition.”

“Surely not!” She felt indignation rise within her on the woman’s behalf, but Niamh merely chuckled.

“Your world changes at so rapid a pace that it even takes us by surprise.”

“Does it? Is it so different on yours?”

“It… is something I cannot reveal to you unfortunately.”

Leliana had expected as much, but she found another subject to latch on to easily enough. “Well, you also mentioned there were stronger gods before, yes? Is that a common matter?”

“Not entirely. We have a tiered system to judge our respective power, and it’s largely determined by how much we can affect the world around us. Imagine Thedas as a leaf resting atop a pond, and then consider the water’s surface area to be the power of a Sixth Tier god. By that same principle, a Fifth Tier god would be synonymous to a lake while a Fourth Tier would be more akin to a sea, and a Third Tier would be an entire ocean.”

“Then the first two tiers…?”

Niamh briefly pressed a tongue against her cheek in thought. “Hm. It gets a tad more complicated after that. Essentially, a Second Tier would be any combination of seas and oceans, but a First Tier would encompass every body of water mentioned. Again, this is all an extremely simplified explanation of our system.”

“And which tier are you then?”

Surprisingly, the goddess seemed reluctant to state her rank. “Let’s just say I… can’t readily determine the difference in power between a Fourth, Fifth, or Sixth Tier deity.”

Leliana’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

Niamh shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Yes. The power discrepancy between them all is too subtle for me to notice.”

Leliana was stunned at such a revelation, for save for the glowing eyes and a presence that exuded gentle, soothing power, Niamh seemed like any other woman. She was calm, self-assured, and—she waited until Niamh turned her attention down to her wolf companion and began petting it before finishing her thought—wonderfully attractive.

But Leliana chided herself for admitting the latter fact.

What goddess would be interested in a mere slip of a girl after all? Leliana had only lived a fraction of Niamh’s entire life. Surely someone of Niamh’s status would have her pick of any suitor—mortal or otherwise—over such a long lifespan. She was thankful Niamh was kind enough to indulge her with her questions, and she did have many of them.

As expected of her title, Leliana got to experience how the goddess could manage to change the weather around them to her whims. With a simple wave of a hand, Niamh effortlessly wreathed them all in warmth when a stronger gust of wind blew in from the sea, never once pausing in her explanation regarding her other abilities. She could switch between them with nary a thought, allowing ice to gather at her fingertips like icy talons before a simple flex caused them to shatter, allowing lightning to dance between them instead—a living cat’s cradle.

“They also call you the goddess of the night sky, don’t they? Are you only capable of appearing during the evening then?”

“It’s more personal preference. I like the quiet the night affords me; there is a different beauty to be found under the cover of it. When mortals originally saw me in the past, it was always in the evenings, so I suppose the assumption remained, but nothing prevents me from appearing during the day should I wish it. Ah.” Niamh turned to look back out to the sea. “And it appears our exchange has run its course.”

Leliana turned her attention to the horizon as well, and was surprised to see daybreak just barely beginning to crest it. She had been enjoying Niamh’s attention so much that she hadn’t realized so much time had passed.

“I’ll have Eimear—” The female wolf rose to her feet just as Niamh did. “—and Cillian escort you home, young one.” (Note: Eimear is pronounced “ee-mur” and Cillian is pronounced “kill-ee-an”)

“Leliana.”

“Hm?”

“My name.” She smiled as she pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. “It’s Leliana.”

“Ah.” Niamh nodded in acknowledgement. “Take care then, Leliana. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation this long with a mortal. It was a new but enjoyable experience.” From her smile, Leliana could see that she was sincere in her words, and she felt wonderfully dazed at the fact.

“Likewise, my lady.” She had the sense to curtsy gracefully before the goddess. “Will… Will I be able to find you here again?”

Niamh blinked. “Perhaps,” she replied, raising a brow at her curiously. “You would have to give something in return again however.”

“Would you be opposed to exchanging stories then?”

“Stories?”

“Yes, you mentioned how much Thedas changes each time you return. I could tell you stories of things that might have occurred while you’ve been away, and perhaps you might tell me stories of your own—the ones that might have been lost through the ages.”

Her request seemed to interest Niamh, for her lips turned up into a smile. “A sensible exchange. Very well. Should you wish to see me again, travel upon the path to this altar and press your hand atop its stone. I will know to meet you here.”

And once a week, Leliana returns to the cliff and that altar—always escorted by the guardian wolf pair—to meet the goddess who has very much become her friend.

As promised, they exchange stories and even songs—much to Leliana’s endless delight—but sometimes their evenings together are simply spent having meals together.

Niamh had confessed that foods of the mortal world provided no real sustenance for her, but she could still taste them all the same. As such, Leliana makes it a point to find new things for her to try, and she discovers the woman liked sweets the best. She can always tell by the way those luminous eyes widen by the barest fraction each time she samples something of interest.

The exchanges rarely last as long as that first night they met, but Leliana doesn’t mind. She enjoys Niamh’s company, and—from those little smiles that always send her heart aflutter—she thinks the reverse might also be true.

A year later, Leliana turned 16, and she went to Niamh one night in excitement. Her mother’s employer was taking them to Val Royeaux for a soiree!

“Can you believe it? Oh, it will be my first one ever!” Utterly filled with glee, she did a little twirl in place, and Niamh was the epitome of patience as Leliana explained how fortuitous an opportunity this was. “Val Royeaux is the crown jewel of Orlais, and there will no doubt be so many people there! Mother says there are always patrons milling about, looking for new talent. Perhaps I might be lucky enough to meet one, and I’d be able to sing for them and tell them tales, but…Oh. �� Her excitement then dimmed somewhat as her voice trailed off, something that Niamh noticed immediately.

“But what?” she asked, beckoning her to continue.

“But there must already be some aspiring minstrels there, those who have lived there their whole lives! How could I ever possibly hope to make myself noticed among them?” she asked plaintively, and she momentarily began pouting when Niamh laughed in gentle amusement.

“Leliana, your songs and your stories are wonderful. I have no doubt a true patron of the arts would appreciate your talents,” she reassured, but when Leliana tried to protest, the woman merely arched a brow. “A false sincerity—no matter how honeyed—is still a lie, and I would never be so crass as to do such a thing to you. However, if you feel that you truly need to give others further incentive to listen to you…”

Niamh paused as she reached into her cloak, and Leliana could faintly hear the jingling of metal before the woman pulled out a brooch so beautiful that it took her very breath way.

Multiple pearls of varying size were inlaid into a sharply-curved bed of obsidian, which emphasized the opalescence of the gems arranged artistically into the shape of a crescent moon. Tiny diamonds decorated the scalloped edge as they hugged each pearl, and bisecting the widest part of the brooch’s arch was a simple silver pin. When the goddess proceeded to hold the piece of jewelry out for her to take, Leliana was taken aback.

“But I can’t possibly take this!”

Niamh merely smiled. “I can always make another like it. When you wear this, simply run a finger across each of the pearls, and its magic will take effect. As you perform, those within hearing distance of you will have no choice but to have their eyes drawn upon you. I have blessed this brooch sparingly, however, so while it may help to draw an audience, it is up to your own skill to further keep them there, Little Bird. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but I didn’t even offer anything in exchange,” she said worriedly.

“When you return from this soiree of yours, tell me of it, and I will consider that payment enough.” The cold winds shifted then, and Leliana found that Niamh’s brows had knitted together in consternation. When she turned to her again, those glowing grey eyes were apologetic. “I am beckoned elsewhere, but I have faith that you’ll be able to be able to succeed in your endeavors. Farewell for now, Leliana.”

When Leliana returned to Niamh’s altar several weeks later, she was fresh-faced and beaming with delight, dancing in a gown of absolute finery. It was a gift from her patron Marjolaine—a wealthy, widowed woman, who had taken quite a fancy to her talents.

“Isn’t it beautiful? Oh, Lady Marjolaine is so generous! She’s been all over Thedas, and she knows so many things! She’s even teaching me how to use a bow!”

“‘A bow,’ you say?” Niamh frowned. “Any particular reason why?”

“For bard training.” When that only drew a further look of confusion, she hastened to explain. “It’s like… being both a minstrel and a bodyguard to your patron. Still, the world can be a dangerous place at times, no? Marjolaine wanted me to also learn how to defend myself.”

“I see.” If Niamh had any concerns, she didn’t voice them. “I imagine such training would take place away from here.”

“Yes,” she admitted, and an ache filled her then, causing her to slowly wring her hands together. “It is a wonderful opportunity. It is probably more than I could have ever hoped for, but it will also mean that I may not return here again for quite some time.”

“As expected.”

“You’re not... upset?”

“You are a young woman of incredible talent and determination, Leliana. I doubt there is much that even I could say that might deter you even had I wished to. Perhaps it was well past time you spread your wings from here and find what awaits you beyond the horizon. I will not keep you from it. Still…” She turned her gaze upon her altar. “I feel I must at least offer you a parting gift.”

The goddess flexed a hand, and Leliana was shocked to see that a broken corner of the altar’s foundation flew directly into Niamh’s palm. As pale fingers closed around it, energies of black and silver—the night and the stars made tangible—twined around the woman’s fist before disappearing moments later into the ether as she revealed her handiwork.

The stone had been reduced to the size of a coin, and upon its face was the image of a wolf’s head—noble and proud—set against the background of a raging storm. It was an icon often associated with Niamh, who wore two silver medallions of the same imagery on her cloak, which were connected by layered chains, fastening the fabric around her securely.

“Keep this upon your person, and should you find yourself in immediate danger, simply think of me, and you shall be protected,” Niamh said, presenting the gift to her.

“And…” She looked to her curiously. “What would you want for this in return?”

The corners of her lips turned up. “Clever girl… I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask me that outright before. Well. Would you be opposed to offering me a memory of yours?”

“‘A memory?’”

“Yes. I suspect you’ll make many more away from here, so I merely ask for one of your most cherished moments thus far. Would you find that acceptable?”

“Yes. What would I have to do?”

“Nothing on your end. Simply hold still…” Niamh reached out to press two fingertips gently against Leliana’s forehead, and she felt the warmth of a summer’s kiss gathered there for a brief moment before the woman then pulled away, blinking consecutively several times.

“Did you get it?” she asked.

“Yes,” Niamh said, looking at her with seeming consideration.

“Oh.” She didn’t feel like anything was amiss. “Which memory was it?”

Those lips parted briefly in an attempt to form an answer, but she soon shook her head, an enigmatic smile burnishing her features—one warm enough to ward Leliana against the cold of the winter sea. “It is irrelevant. Here.” She pressed the stone coin into her palm. “I thank you for the memory, and I wish you well on your journey.”

“I…” Leliana wet her lips as she clasped a hand against her chest. “I will miss you.”

“Likewise. Safe travels to you always, Little Bird.”

The woman turned on her heel and walked toward the edge of the cliff, and as she made to step off of it, her form simply dispersed like stardust scattering across the night breeze before simply fading before Leliana’s eyes.

Leliana learned and experienced much under her patron’s tutelage over the years, traveling from one corner of Thedas to the other, ever a faithful shadow. Beneath Marjolaine’s eye, her skills as a bard grew, honed well upon the battlefield and also in the depths of more private chambers.

Although she travels far at times, Leliana cannot keep her mind from the woman who is the night sky and storms made flesh. She dreams of eyes like moonlight—calm and ancient—watching her with warmth and then a smoldering fire of passion she wishes were true.

It’s a yearning that lingers in the back of her mind, and she finds that even with her growing infamy and riches, they bring her little joy. She begins to re-evaluate her life and proceeds to slowly distance herself from the Game—a fact that Marjolaine is too keenly aware of.

And from there, she learns of her lover’s final lesson: betrayal.

She returned to the stone altar by the sea a decade after she saw it last. Niamh appeared as promptly as always whenever she pressed a hand upon its stone, and Leliana saw those dark brows raised minutely in surprise upon seeing her, and she can’t help but smile.

Leliana was indeed much older than when they last saw one another although she feared she hadn’t grown quite as wise as she had hoped. Had that been the case, surely she would have learned of Marjolaine’s treachery much sooner. She explained as much to Niamh, who listened with quiet concern, as she detailed how everything went so terribly wrong.

“It was your coin that saved me,” Leliana revealed gratefully. “Without it, I would have been imprisoned and framed for treason by Marjolaine. If she is capable of committing such misdeeds against me—someone who she once saw as an ally—then she is capable to doing so to others. I cannot allow it to happen again. She will be brought to justice for her crimes.”

Niamh nodded in understanding. “And you came to me for help. Very well. Hold out your hands.”

Leliana did as instructed, and she saw Niamh’s dual-toned energy of black and silver forming before her, weighing down her palms. She kept them steady, and when the magic finally vanished, she found she was holding a new quiver full of arrows and a bow.

The latter was a thing of beauty, carved from ironbark so that it was lightweight but strong as steel. The grip of it appeared to have been made of white halla leather to contrast against the dark color of the weapon’s frame, and upon the widest part of the bow’s upper limb was Niamh’s personal icon engraved in silverite.

“Whisper my name upon the wind, and there shall be no manner of armor that your arrows cannot penetrate.”

“And in exchange?”

“A song sung under the night sky—one for every time you use the bow’s secondary ability.”

Leliana blinked. “Just songs then?”

“Yes.” Niamh smiled then. “I’ve found that I have missed them in all the time you’ve been away. Good hunting to you, Leliana.”

Leliana returns to Denerim to confront Marjolaine once more, and—with the blessings of a goddess on her side—she emerges victorious.

She takes a ship back to Orlais that very evening. While Marjolaine stews in fury below decks, Leliana is alone at the prow, quietly singing over a dozen songs up to the night sky. As the wind stirs to tousle her hair, she smiles, feeling like Niamh is there with her, listening in approval for the promise kept.

When she drags Marjolaine to the Orlesian embassy, Leliana informs them all of her former lover’s treason with evidence to back her claims. Marjolaine is consequently imprisoned—all titles and lands stripped from her name—and Leliana is hailed as a heroine. Empress Celene raises her name to nobility and grants her the title of Nightingale of the Imperial Court as her lead reconnaissance expert.

With the act, it becomes abundantly clear to the nobles of Orlais that while Marjolaine had once proven herself a consummate player of the Great Game, Leliana had bested her utterly. Some fear her skill while others hope to ride on the coat tails of her success, but whatever the case, Leliana is simply happy that everything is right with the world for once.

With her new title and riches, Leliana buys a new villa by the Waking Sea—closer to Niamh’s altar—and ensures her mother never has to work another day in her life ever again. Although her new profession involves a bit of underhandedness here and there, she does what she can to help and donate to various charities.

Even with such a busy schedule, she always finds time to visit Niamh, and they reconnect, establishing an old friendship between stories, songs, and meals.

Five years after revealing Marjolaine’s treachery, Leliana’s mother falls terribly ill. A combination of wasting sickness and cholera, the healers say. While Leliana assures them that money is no issue for any treatment they suggest, they regretfully inform her that with Oisine’s advancing age, there is little they can do other than to try and keep her comfortable over the next few weeks.

Distraught, Leliana turns to the one person she knows can help.

“And you understand the type of exchange this requires?” Niamh asked once more.

“Yes.”

Leliana had just neglected to inform the goddess she didn’t see herself finding another mortal to complete such a task. While she regretted her soon-to-be proposition hadn’t been made under better circumstances, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about something similar over the years. Even after a decade and a half after they first met, Leliana still found Niamh to be as enchanting as ever. She was intelligent, gifted in more than magical ability, and was remarkably sweet and kind.

Surely, with such coveted traits, she wouldn’t object to siring the firstborn the Law of Equivalent Exchange required?

“Very well,” Niamh said, unaware of Leliana’s thoughts. “When you return home tonight, your mother will be in pristine health once more. It will be like she never fell ill at all, and even the memory of her suffering will fade along with the memories of those who had interacted with her since then.”

Leliana sighed in relief. “Thank you so much. She means everything to me.”

“I’m aware.” The woman’s glowing eyes turned apologetic then. “I only hope you won’t find the price of this all too steep, but I suppose only time will tell. Again, you needn’t begin this process right away. As the matter regarding your mother was quite serious, you’re welcome to see for yourself over the next few days that I spoke true in keeping my end of the bargain.”

“I know you wouldn’t betray me,” Leliana reassured, smiling, before mischief filled her. “So when do we begin?”

Luminous grey eyes blinked. “Pardon?”

“You said you wanted my firstborn, no?”

“Yes, and you agreed, did you not?”

“I did,” she reiterated, her smile still present. “As I’ve said, when do we begin?”

Leliana watched—amusement suffusing her—as realization then dawned over the goddess, causing those pale eyes to widen comically.

“Oh,” she uttered, baffled. “I—This was not…I don’t think…!”

Leliana had to bite her lip to keep her laughter from spilling out. In all the years they had known one another, this was perhaps the first time she had seen the otherwise unflappable goddess at such a loss for words. “Is there a problem?”

“Not necessarily…” Niamh grimaced, trying to regain her composure. “This is admittedly quite the first for me. As such, I need some time to prepare. I’ve every intention of keeping my word, but I want to be absolutely certain I won’t somehow hurt you in the process. Would you be willing to meet me in the forest tomorrow evening?”

“Of course.” This was an odd situation for them both after all. If Niamh needed time to assuage her own concerns, who was she to stop her?

“Thank you. Eimear and Cillian will escort you to my desired location for this once you enter the forest. I will see you then.”

Niamh’s siblings found out about her latest plight the moment she returned home.

“Can you believe it, Fergus? Why, I never thought I’d see the day!” Saoirse crowed smugly while her little sister glared balefully between her and their brother.

“Indeed!” Fergus reached out to tousle Niamh’s hair playfully. “A human woman managed to outsmart our usually quick-witted sister! And here I thought the mortals figuring out how to cultivate seedless grapes would be the last thing to surprise me.”

Niamh rolled her eyes when both her siblings guffawed heavily at that, and she ducked between them both to speak with Morrigan—the only person she had actually given permission to be in her quarters with her regarding this.

“You’re certain this is safe then? I won’t somehow manage to hurt her with my powers?”

“Yes, yes. ‘Tis a simple enough matter,” she drawled for the third time. “I fail to see your concern regarding this. You have exceptional control over your abilities after all.”

“I’ve never laid with a mortal before, Morrigan,” she deadpanned. “Pardon my concern over potentially breaching the terms of an exchange by accidentally killing the other party involved.”

“So long as you remember mortals do not have the same amount of endurance as we do, and you allow her to catch a breath every few interludes during the act, I cannot foresee any issue that might occur.” She sniffed dismissively, continuing to sift through the many tomes Niamh kept in her private collection. “Truly, given how fondly you speak of this Leliana, I doubt you would be able to do wrong by her.”

Niamh immediately winced at Morrigan’s statement, knowing the reaction it would have drawn from her siblings, and she was rarely ever proven wrong when it came to them.

“Wait, wait! It’s that human then? The very one she’s been talking about for the past five years?” Saoirse grinned, turning to her older brother. “Fergus, did you hear that?!”

Niamh sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with irritation as another round of teasing ensued. It was during such moments that she wondered—as she often did—why their mother couldn’t have just made her an only child.

The following night, Leliana’s wolf companions led her to a clearing deep within the woods, where Niamh was already waiting for her. Eimear and Cillian made themselves scarce once she had been delivered safely, but Leliana barely paid them any mind.

It seemed that Niamh had her comfort in mind, for in the middle of the clearing was a simple bedding of luxurious furs to lay upon, surrounded by gentle firelight. Bowls of fruits and other simple snacks laid off to the side along with bottles of various drinks to be sampled before or after the act. As she eyed the goddess standing in the midst of it all, Leliana was determined it would indeed be after as she took the hand offered to her.

Beneath the moonlight, they patiently explored one another upon disrobing together before proceeding to lay upon the furs and establish the beginning of their exchange.

Leliana was no the longer the bumbling, inexperienced child when they had first met. She had laid with others before in the type of hedonism that could only be experienced in a place like Val Royeaux, but as Niamh hovered over her, gently rolling her hips into hers, eyes aglow with such reverence like the full moon overhead, it was like she was experiencing such intimacy for the first time again. This time, however, it was with the woman—the goddess—she had always desired, who willingly worshipped her with caresses and kisses to flushed skin so sweet that it made her heart ache.

Her back arched as Niamh slipped inside her in gentle exploration. Like a musician, she expertly tuned herself to Leliana, testing rhythms and speeds to determine her preference, and when she discovered the perfect tempo, it was almost too much pleasure to bear.

She came undone beneath her, and Niamh swallowed her cries beneath tender kisses. As she was coaxed back down from her climax, all Leliana could wonder was, “How in the world am I ever supposed to let you go once the exchange is completed?”

Niamh proved quite the attentive lover.

Every few rounds, the goddess made certain Leliana kept herself hydrated and had a few bites to eat before continuing on. It was a long night of pleasure, however, and Leliana soon couldn’t discern whether the sweetness on her tongue was from food, drink, or more intimate flesh. For all of Leliana’s experience in intimacy, however, she couldn’t hope to match the immortal stamina of a goddess, but Niamh didn’t fault her need to rest. She merely encouraged her to curl against her side, which she did without complaint, resting her head on a slim shoulder. As she played with the pale collarbone beneath her fingertips, she sighed contentedly as lips pressed themselves against the crown of her head before one of the furs of their bedding was drawn up around them to ward off against the cold.

It had been a memorable night, and she had been sated, so she allowed Niamh’s warmth and the gentle crackling of the fire around them to lull her to sleep.

The light of morning washed over her, and as a warm beam of it crossed her face, her nose wrinkled with displeasure. She reached out beside her, but it isn’t fur, grass, or even another warm body that she felt.

No, it was cold sheets.

Leliana’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up abruptly to find that she was at home and in bed.

Alone.

Something within her proceeded to slowly break in painful increments, confused and bereft by such knowledge. Had last night been nothing more than an elaborate dream? She hissed gently as she shifted atop the sheets, attempting to rise from bed, and the sweet aching of her loins told her the prior evening had been no mere fantasy.

But then why had she been left?

For as much as she had heard about Niamh’s parents over the years, her mother Eleanor had elected to stay on Thedas for a time to raise her children with the man she loved. Was that not the standard among the gods at all then? Or did the exchange require a different perspective of what was to be expected of her?

“Lady Leliana?” a voice called from behind the door. One of her servants. “Will you not be joining Lady Oisine for breakfast this morning?”

She swallowed the lump down in her throat and wet her lips before attempting to speak, carefully making certain her voice didn’t shake. “No, I’m fine, Lydia. I’ve reports to finish. Please give my mother my apologies and have a plate brought to me later this afternoon.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

Leliana heard the footsteps retreating, and she immediately wanted to bury herself in the sheets, but before she could begin to wallow in despair, she heard a caw at the window. She almost dismissed the sound. Ravens weren’t uncommon around the villa after all, but when she turned to shoo it away after another pointed cry, she paused immediately upon seeing the silver eyes on the bird.

It crooked its head, looking at her curiously. Whatever the raven was searching for, she didn’t know. It simply blinked once at her before turning toward the door, and—seemingly satisfied they wouldn’t be disturbed—it flapped its wings and proceeded to fly slowly toward her. As it did, Leliana watched in amazement as the bird shifted—the image of multiple animals flashing across her vision—before coalescing into the form of the goddess she knew.

Intimately now in fact.

Who was looking down at her in concern.

“Are you alright?” Niamh asked.

“You’re…” Leliana’s lips parted. “You’re still here.”

“Of course.” Dark brows furrowed, but she hardly seemed offended. Merely confused. “I wouldn’t have left you alone to carry our child for the next nine months without aid.”

“When I woke up, and you weren’t here with in bed with me after last night, I assumed…” she trailed off, remembering the dread she felt in her heart mere moments ago, wondering if she had perhaps been abandoned to carry the burden alone.

“Ah.” Niamh rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “I returned you to your villa just before the sun rose, and then I simply sat at your desk afterward, waiting for you to wake.”

“My desk?” she asked, voice raising incredulously.

“Yes.” Niamh seemed uncertain as she continued speaking. “When we made the deal for the exchange, it was agreed we would lay together to consummate the agreement. Nothing within our verbal contract stated that I would be allowed to lay in your bed, and I didn’t wish to seem rude by presuming otherwise, so I elected to just sit and read until you awoke. When I heard one of the other mortals come up the stairs toward your door, however, I made myself scarce so as to not be found.”

Leliana said nothing at first, her mind still trying to wipe the cobwebs of sleep from it amidst the rush of earlier fear, but Niamh seemed to take her silence as disapproval.

“I’m sorry,” Niamh said. “After so many Ages, it’s simply an ingrained instinct at this point. I normally don’t interact with mortals this close to their homestead, so I immediately just thought to hide myself.”

With belated shock, Leliana realized the other woman’s eyes weren’t glowing anymore in the daylight, but they were still such an amazingly pale shade of grey, which were filled with utmost sincerity. Leliana didn’t move when the woman reached out to cup her face, and when a thumb went to sweep itself across her cheek, she was surprised to see it come away wet.

She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying mere moments ago.

“I am new to relationships such as this,” Niamh continued, “but my need to prevent unwanted questions shouldn’t have superseded your comfort. I apologize. I won’t hurt you like this again. I cannot promise I’ll be perfect in every aspect of this, but I will do my utmost to do right by you.”

So—as expected—Leliana became pregnant after their night together, and Niamh inevitably gets pulled into Orlesian society while trying to keep the mother of her child safe. Every day seems to offer its own lesson as the goddess seeks to adapt to society without giving away what she is.

Thankfully, everyone tends to assume she is a woman of foreign nobility given how she dresses and carries herself, and Leliana doesn’t do much to dissuade such rumors. That those very rumors also pair the other woman with her in more romantic a fashion is much its own bittersweet pain, but if Niamh had ever been aware of them, she doesn’t voice them to her.

For beyond that first night, they hadn’t been to bed together. Niamh would hold her when she slept after discussing their respective days together, yes, and she’d still be there the morning after, but nothing intimate ever occurred between those moments. It’s... a comfortable enough routine, but Leliana always longs for more.

Before her pregnancy begins to show, she requests some needed vacation time from Empress Celene, who approves it without question, citing that while she appreciated her dedication to the empire, she worked far too much at times.

Leliana returns back to her villa by the Waking Sea before long, intending that to be where she eventually gives birth. Niamh, of course, is ever present at her side. Unfortunately, while the Imperial Court remained oblivious to the woman’s actual identity, her mother is not so keen to let the matter go…

“That woman…” Oisine began, looking at her daughter over the rim of her tea cup, “She isn’t what she appears to be, is she?”

Leliana’s first instinct was to lie, but her mother was always clever. Leliana had inherited the same brilliance after all. Still, she sighed.

“Her name is Niamh; that much is true. She is technically nobility—just not in the same way you and I would think of it.”

“What are you saying?”

“She’s the goddess of storms and the night sky, Mother, and she’s quite powerful even among her kind. She’s here to look over me since I made a deal with her.”

Oisine’s features immediately paled. “What? Leliana, I told you the dangers of entering into such things with them!”

“I didn’t have the choice!”

“Did she force you into this?”

“Mother, no!” Niamh was far too considerate a person—too tender a lover—to ever consider something so underhanded, but she could see that her mother couldn’t be readily convinced without more of an explanation. “I did it because you were dying, and there was no other option to save your life!”

“What?”

When she saw that she was only succeeding in confusing her mother, Leliana sighed, and did her best to explain the circumstances surrounding the relationship between her and Niamh, such as how long they actually knew one another, how the goddess had helped her over the years, and why she helped her again when she found her mother likely wouldn’t recover from her illness.

All factors that led to the culmination of her bearing the child of a deity.

“You’re with child,” Oisine breathed in shock.

“Yes.”

“And Lady Niamh…?”

“Is the other parent, yes.”

“Oh, Leliana…” Guilt filled the other woman’s eyes, but Leliana didn’t want it. She would have gladly made the offer again in a heartbeat to save her. “You could have lain with anyone else to have a child, and the exchange would have still been fulfilled. Why do it in such a way?”

“Because it has always been her, Mother. I wanted to know her in such a way even if it was only once, but I’m still mortal. No matter what else I am, no matter my accomplishments, she wouldn’t be able to stay with me forever. I’m under no illusions that when the baby is born, she may very well just leave with them once the promise has been seen through.”

Disapproval was evident on Oisine’s features. “Surely you don’t believe that. Mind you, I may have been curious as to her actual identity, but have you not seen how that woman dotes upon you? How her eyes search for you as soon as you enter a room? She would give you anything you desire if you’d but ask her to stay.”

Leliana turned her head away. “Mother, please!”

She couldn’t afford to hope for this.

It would hurt too much if it didn’t come true.

Of course, as Leliana and Niamh adapt to the idea of being parents together, they realize their feelings for one another may not be as one-sided as they both initially believed.

They catch feelings is what I’m saying here, y’all.

Their relationship, however, isn’t considered official until a proper courtship ritual is done. Niamh’s not allowed to say what that all entails due to some old laws on her world, but Leliana figures it out anyway due to some old story she dug up thanks to her spy network and because she’s simply brilliant.

There’s also some political intrigue back in the world of the gods who want to close off their world from Thedas entirely, which makes Niamh super unhappy. She’ll have to do something regarding that obviously. Who are they to keep her from her beloved Leliana after all?

Then, some other issues might also occur when some individuals in the Imperial Court learn that Leliana’s pregnant. Players in the Great Game can be merciless.

So there’s action, but there’s also plenty of romantic fluff to round it out. The important thing is that Niamh and Leliana work through it together, and they have a healthy baby, and they all get to live happily ever after for a very long time!

So that’s basically it.

Again, like my other AUs, this isn’t as polished as I would like it to be, but your thoughts regarding it are always appreciated! Like it? Hate it? Think I can improve upon it? Is this something you’d like to see me write along with all my other AUs eventually? Let me know!

Seriously, just leave a like, a comment, drop a message in my inbox or the Tumblr messenger, or simply just let me know in an AO3 review. Until next time, guys!

#dragon age #leliana #female cousland/leliana #lee's AU ideas #OTP: What If We Rewrite the Stars?#My writing #fanfic

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laudedliar · 4 years ago

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Just a quick short - I based it on the word Touch:

He was always touching him. A brush of a hand. A friendly bump of a shoulder. The gentle nudge of a thigh under the table. A lingering palm on his back. Fenris tried to ignore it. To not seem interested when Hawke would stare into his very being with those feral amber eyes.

But it got more difficult every time.

Even when they shared angry words about the man’s proclivity to indulge the Abomination Anders. Or when the other warrior was insistent on safe guarding the dangerous apostates they inevitably ran across. When they argued about the veracity of Merrill’s claims that she ‘knew what she was doing’.

And after their heated words were finished, panting and cheeks flushed from passionate debate, Hawke would touch him.

And Fenris’ world would shrink to that single spot where the man’s caress lingered. Breath hitching, heart faltering, skin burning.

He wanted more. Especially since Hawke’s fascination with equality and fairness extended beyond just mages. He embraced the idea that all people’s deserved better. Elves. Men. Dwarves. Even Qunari. Fenris had never met anyone like Hawke in his entire life. Even the Fog Warriors fairness and care were a dim candlelight compared to Hawke’s sun-like brilliance.

His eyes were lingering on long, pale fingers that brushed against Hawke’s forearm. Slender fingertips stained from working with alchemical herbs tickling through the fine dark hairs. Jaw flexed, teeth grinding together, Fenris tore his gaze away from where Ander’s caressed their enigmatic leader and back to his hand of cards.

“And then she asked if there was a potion to cure it!” The mage was clearly intoxicated. A blush flushed high on his sunken cheeks.

Hawke laughed loudly, pulling his arm away from the other human’s stroking fingers to lift his tankard of ale to his lips.

“Look, mage. I only asked if there was a preventative measure so I wouldn’t have to bother you again.” Isabela replied, her shoulder’s shrugging. She didn’t seem the least bit ashamed that Ander’s had ousted her for having STDs.

“Rivani, if I ever write a story with you in it, I’m going to have to put a warning on the front page. In big bold lettering: For Mature Audiences Only.” Varric was shaking his head as he stared down at his own hand of cards.

“You’d sell a lot of copies in Orlais.” Hawke quipped.

“Ha!” Varric set his hand down on the table. “Full House. Read ‘em and weep!”

“You cheated!” Anders whined as he set his own dismal hand of cards down onto the table.

“You’ll be disappointed to note Varric but I have a Straight Flush, Angels high.” Isabela smirked at the gathered companions around the table to a round of loud groaning protests.

“Well, I’m tapped.” Hawke grumbled as he tossed his cards down onto the table. The warrior pushed away from the table and stood up. “I’ll see you all tomorrow?” He asked as he down the last sip of his ale tankard.

“More adventures?” Varric asked as he collected the cards off the table top and began to shuffle with practiced flair.

“Always.” Hawke promised.

“I’ll walk home with you.” Anders said as he pushed away from the table as well and fell into step with the other man.

Fenris’ eyes lingered on the pair of humans. His nostrils flared with irritation at the way Anders once more caressed Hawke’s elbow.

“You in, Elf?” Varric asked as he began to deal the cards.

“Sure.” Fenris gruffed and turned away from the doorway as the two men walked out.

It was a subdued hand of cards with only the three of them left. Isabela and Varric kept glancing over at him.

“What?” He finally asked when looked up from his cards into Isabela’s staring brown eyes once again.

“So... I don’t mean to be a busybody but...” She started. Her eyes looked away back to her own hand of cards, fingers deftly moving them around.

“Then don’t.” Fenris growled and shook his head. He knew exactly where she was going with this. And he didn’t want to hear it. Not from her.

“I’m about to say something myself, Broody.” Varric muttered as he eyed his cards carefully.

“It’s just that, well, maybe you would feel a little better if you just... I don’t know... Approached Hawke?” Isabela suggested. It was a gentle nudge. A friendly push.

“He wouldn’t turn you away.” Varric agreed. The dwarf laid out the next card in the deck. A Knight of Roses.

“I knew a woman once that read cards. She would say that’s a good omen!” Isabela said happily as she laid another handful of copper down into the pot.

“Now you read cards?” Fenris asked flatly. He added his own copper pieces, shifting his own cards around.

“I’m just saying if you don’t board that ship there are plenty of others waiting on the docks.” Isabela said.

“Anders.” Varric coughed the name out. His fist hit his chest a couple times. “Sorry about that, had a little tickle.”

Isabela and the dwarf laughed lightly between each other. Another card placed on the table and Fenris scowled at the Serpent face. He just needed a Song and would have a flush hand.

“I’ll make you a bet. If you win... We won’t bother you about this again. But if Isabela or I win...” The two glanced at each other and then turned their wicked gazes back on him.

He looked back at his hand again, mulling over probabilities. “You’ll never speak of it again?” He asked. “Ever?”

“Well, I might use it in a story, but to you? Never. Lips will be sealed.” Varric ran his fingers over his mouth in a zippering motion.

Fenris’ eyes flicked to Isabela. The pirate lifted her right hand into the air. “I swear on my honor as a captain.”

“And if I lose?” He asked, eyes lingering on the traitorous Serpent card.

“You have to go to Hawke. Tonight. No excuses and I want all the glorious, gooey details tomorrow.” Isabela crooned.

“Anders might be there.” Fenris dead panned as he watched Varric flip another card. Another Knight. Shit.

“Blondie? Nah. He was swimming. Hawke probably tucked him into bed already.” Varric was smiling at his cards as he placed a shining silver to the pot. He was bluffing. He had to be. “Well, do we have a bet?”

Fenris stared at his cards some more. His teeth bit down on the inside of his cheek. Only a Song. And they would never bother him about it again. “Bet.” He ground between his teeth against his better judgement.

The night air was cool as he stood outside the door of Hawke’s estate. Lights were on inside so at least someone was still awake. He hoped it was merely Bodahn and could tell the two vagabonds he’d been turned away because ‘Messere Hawke is sleeping and doesn’t wish to be disturbed’. He took a deep breath and knocked.

The door swung open and Hawke stood there in his house robe. Amber eyes blinking widely at Fenris.

“Fenris!” The man was clearly surprised at seeing the elf this late.

“I have been thinking of you. In fact I have been able to think of little else. Command me to go, and I shall.”

Hawke stared at him for the space of a heartbeat. “No need.”

#dragon age #fenris #M!Hawke x Fenris #dragon age ii #short story #touchy feely #gambling #bad bet #or good bet?

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theharellan · 4 years ago

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101 DRAGON AGE QUESTIONS | not accepting

for the sake of reducing the number of ooc posts i’m answering these all in one and just @ing the people who asked the questions! thank you for them all!

if you sent me one of these btw and rbed this meme yourself and i didn’t send you something, please let me know! i want to send you things back and must have missed you reblogging the meme. this includes non-mutuals.

1. How did you get into Dragon Age? | asked by @kaaras-adaar & @dreamerlavellan

Sort of by accident, actually. It was the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in university (2011) and summertime is generally a time of inactivity and depression because I cannot tolerate the weather here. My dad happened to own Origins and I picked it up because??? Fantasy? RPG?

Starting the game I saw you could play as a dwarf, who have been my favourites in fantasy since a child as The Hobbit is among my favourite books. Then after that I fell in love with the worldbuilding for dwarves and Gorim, my first actual Dragon Age love. I was more or less hooked after that. DA was actually not my first Bioware game, I was obsessed with Jade Empire as a kid so like Origins appealed to me immediately despite being far less fun to play than literally any other Bioware game I’ve ever played. The characters and world more than made up for it.

I beat it relatively quickly and my dad bought Dragon Age II which had come out earlier that day, actually against my suggestion because I’d heard it wasn’t good. And in this instance my dad forgetting something I said turned out for the best because I ended up enjoying DAII more in some respects. While it took me a while to join the fandom as a content producer I was a consumer and certified DA trash from then on.

2. Have you finished all three games? | asked by @kaaras-adaar

Kskjdfs yes. I’ve beaten each at least 4 times, but probably more like 8. The only thing I haven’t played are some of the Origins DLC because as much as I enjoy my replays I am so ready to be out by the end of the game (and I have the worst luck with Awakening bugs) and I also don’t have Sebastians DLC b/c his never goes on sale individually and I refuse to spend more than like $4 on him.

3. How long did it take you to finish the series? | asked by @kaaras-adaar

I honestly don’t know. I think it took me like a week to beat Inquisition without 100%ing it, I’d say my first playthroughs all probably took about that long. I tend not to do everything in my first playthrough. Like shard collecting didn’t happen until round two, etc.

7. Favorite DA:O backstory? | asked by @dreamerlavellan & @fatefaulted

I’ve played through all of them and I enjoy them all except Cousland, but my favourite is Aeducan. I enjoy the politics, the culture, the aesthetic of Orzammar. I love Gorim Saelac and the surprising amount of depth to this character who is designed to be thrown away after the prologue. I love how it ties you to the Darkspawn threat in a bigger way than any of the origins accomplish. I love how it ties you to the Orzammar plot later in the game, and playing Aeducan first is probably one reason why I adore that branch of the game. It’s a good origin that establishes its world really well and has great characters to boot.

11. Share a pic of your favorite OC from any DA game. | asked by @dreamerlavellan

I just want to share pics of my girl and Solas’ future husband.

Ian Lavellan, non-Inquisitor written by @theshirallen

Thora Cadash, dwarven Inquisitor and default Inquisitor for this blog written by... me lmao.

22. Favorite DA2 party combo? | asked by @fatefaulted

My main Hawke is a mage Hawke, so this party is horrendously imbalanced, but: Varric, Merrill, Isabela. They all just like each other and I think that’s neat. Although in act one my favourite is probably Carver, Merrill, Isabela / Varric. Unfortunately the game doesn’t want me to have a warrior in my party.

24. Favorite main-story quest from DA:I? | asked by @kaaras-adaar

It’s hard to pick between In Hushed Whispers and In Your Heart Shall Burn. I love seeing the red lyrium’d companions and the dark future of Thedas, and speculating on what happened in the intervening year. I love reflecting on what it must do for the Inquisitor to see that and have it be undone. I think it sets up the rest of the game really well, and in ways Champions of the Just doesn’t do quite as well.

In Your Heart Shall burn is a simpler quest but I think the power and emotions in the quest are so raw. Playing this the first time was riveting and I was on the edge of my seat. The triumph of closing the Breach, the strangeness of your first encounter with Cole (whose appearance at the gates is another reason I prefer IHW tbh, I think it’s more tension building than Dorian’s), Corypheus, crawling through the snow. Capping it off with The Dawn Will Come and the journey to Skyhold idk, it’s just such an emotional high point in the series that every time I replay I get goosebumps.

25. Favorite DA:I place? | asked by @fatefaulted

It’s a tie between the Frostback Basin and the Emerald Graves. I love the lore in both, as elf trash I prefer the lore in the graves especially if I can include the Din’an Hanin into that category. But the Avvar lore and Ameridan is also Very Good, and while I adore the giant trees of the graves the Frostback Basin clearly was able to have more resources poured into its design, and as a result the different sections of the map have so much more character.

A close runner-up is the Hinterlands, as I think the quests there are fun and it feels like home. I enjoy returning to it. Which is good, b/c I’ve played through it... a lot... I think loving it might be a coping mechanism, but also I love the vibe of the early game that’s best captured in the Hinterlands.

32. Favorite DLC mission overall? | asked by @fatefaulted

Trespasser is up there with Shivering Isles as my favourite DLC ever produced. Its hits every emotional beat I think it needed to hit, set up the next game with greater detail and intrigue than the initial epilogue, and I’m honestly dying to get to replay it again on Thora despite what it does to my nerves. The first time I played it I could feel my heart beating faster like wtf me.

37. Blood magic: yes or no? | asked by @hopewrought

Would I use it myself? No. Morally I think it can be reprehensible but also neutral, much like any other magic in the game. In certain characters I think even if used for good it may encourage unhealthy habits, but I think it can be learned to be engaged with in better ways.

59. Who was written really poorly? | asked by @theshirallen you can’t hide behind anon I know it was you

Oghren fucking Kondrat. When I think about the reasons Origins is my least favourite game he is among them. With Oghren there was a really good chance to portray an alcoholic abuse victim, suffering from severe mental health issues, and still mourning his wife, with the respect it deserves. Instead he just... is a gross sexist dwarf and his alcoholism is mostly played for jokes. And then he comes back in Awakening and... continues to be a gross sexist dwarf whose alcoholism is mostly played for jokes.

There could have been some really interesting stuff with Oghren, the Warrior caste of dwarves I think would suffer from issues similar to qunari warriors, where when they can no longer fill the purpose society has dictated they must serve, what then? They can’t do anything but fight. There could be comradery with Sten, or perhaps Zevran or Alistair, or any of the companions who have had the path their lives took dictated to them by societal forces they had no say in (even if they are happy with that direction). There are snippets of good stuff in here, the line “let us show them our hearts, Warden, and then show them theirs” is one of the best of the good-byes the game offers us imo. It’s a shame about what came before.

Like there are other characters, such as Sera, who I think were done dirty by their writers, but Sera at least got some growth in the DLC and there were attempts to address criticism of her character. Oghren in Awakening was just kind of a take two of an already poorly-done arc.

60. Who do you wish had been given more story? | asked by @hopewrought

I wish Briala had more, like that she had some impact on the story in universes where Gaspard isn’t crowned with her as his puppetmaster. She and the elves reappears in that but not if you reunite her with Celene or exile her, and I think it would’ve been neat. I also wish she’d had a chance to interact with Solas in some small way given how many parallels were drawn by one of his own agents during Masked Empire.

I also wish we had more about dwarves in general in 2 and Inquisition. We get some great lore in Inquisition that was set up in 2, but with our only dwarf companion being Varric, who honestly has a relationship with his race that at times is comparable to Sera’s, it pulls a few of its punches. I really think they have dwarves set up to be important players in the next game, with their architecture featuring heavily in the dev diary, buuut no dwarves to be seen. So who knows. Just give me dwarves in the next game who aren’t Varric Bioware pls. Let me kiss one maybe.

61. Favorite NPC? | asked by @kaaras-adaar

I’m not going to count advisors even though they kinda are NPCs and I’m going to answer one for each game so uhh...

Origins - Anora

DA2 - Feynriel

DA:I - Krem

Bonus - Lord Woolsley, the only unproblematic DA character

63. Best story moment? | asked by @ghilannainguideme

It’s a tie between the journey to Skyhold and the talk with Solas at the end of Trespasser and the resulting disbanding of the Inquisition (if you so choose). I really can’t separate them because I think the reason Trespasser works so well is how it calls back to the very beginning of Inquisition and that moment with Solas in the snow. It’s triumphant and sad, something’s ending, the fellowship is breaking, but you know all of you will continue to work towards a better world apart.

In DA:O I think it’d be saying good-bye before the final battle and in DA2 I think the moment where you can tell the Arishok he was right to take in the elves who killed that guardmen is good. Probably one of the reasons why I think Hawke-Arishok work so well as a protagonist-antagonist combination.

81. Favorite fanfic? | asked by @ghilannainguideme

I don’t read a lot of fanfic, actually. Save what I read on here, which I do count, but idk if other people do.

My favourite writers to read are @theshirallen, obviously. Joly wants to tweakIan’s personal quest but I think the version they have written now is still very good and you can find it here. I love reading Peace’s stuff and find their smut especially spicy in the best possible way, you can find a Merrill/f!Mahariel piece here! Gaia doesn’t write on Tumblr much these days, but she wrote a wonderful Tug/Sketch (the companions from Leliana’s Song) that you can find here.

I follow so many talented writers and I can’t list them all but here are a few I can fire off real fast: @theshirallen / @ghilannainguideme / @seahaloed / @sabraelin / @valorcorrupt / @mercysought / @hopewrought / @ofrevas / @skyheld have all moved me with their words at some point, be it in fic or rp.

82. Favorite fanart/fanartist? | asked by @ghilannainguideme

Again I just can’t choose jsdfks.

The easiest way is to just link my Solas fanart tag. Obviously this favours Solas artists, however, so also here’s a link to thedaswlw where there’s a boatload of amazing fanart all of wlw.

Of people I’m mutuals with I know @abracafockyou, @kaaras-adaar, @dalathin (currently inactive but I gotta link them), and @syntharts are all very talented artists. I’m also a big fan of destinyapostacy, nipuni, elbenherzart, starscollected (on twitter), and many more.

97. What’s your favorite DA mod? | asked by @ghilannainguideme & @hopewrought

I’ll chose one as many as I want to apparently from each game again, b/c why not?

DA:O - I have to admit I find this game hard to mod because nothing can really salvage the gameplay or look of the game. I need Better Dwarf Model so I don’t have to look at the odd dwarf proportions in the game (the women have arms for days). Mostly I have armour mods. I like Grey Wardens of Ferelden so I can match Alistair in the final batte and have everyone in uniforms in Awakening. I do like Kirkwall Exports because I can put Zevran in the robes of the notorious pirate tho. I haven’t used this mod yet but I also love this mod I retweeted this morning.

DA2 - Again, I don’t mod 2 very much. You could probably make some kind of chart for correlating my enjoyment of a game versus my urge to mod it, with the more I love a game means I want to mod it more. With 2 I enjoy the combat and overall design of the characters more so I mostly use a couple of tweaks, my favourite is Ishs Scarf for Merrill which just adds a cute blue scarf to Merrill and hides the fact that elves in this game have weirdly long necks. Oh and a mod to fix the weird hand dirt.

DA:I - Equal Opportunity Solas mod, I bought the game again on PC just to use it. Being able to play Solas/Ian for screencaps was everything tbh. Other mods I enjoy are More Banter, which while I have better luck with banter it is nice to be able to count on it. I installed it this latest pt and I have heard location comments that have never triggered before. Black Hair for Everyone has changed my life because finally Thora doesn’t have grey hair. No Dirt Buildup is also amazing, as the dirt can cause some really weird blotting on PCs that’s especially noticeable on dark-skinned Inquisitors.

99. Where would you live (Ferelden, Orlais, Free Marches etc?) | asked by @heysales

Probably Ferelden. It is fantasy England and hey if I make it past Inquisition maybe nothing will ever happen there again. Somewhere in the Free Marches might also be chill. Not Kirkwall. Maybe Starkhaven? Honestly tho I just want to live in the Frostback Basin. Have a spirit friend. Shake hands with nugs.

101. If you could meet your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor, what would you say? | asked by @dreamerlavellan

If I met Thora I’d tell her I’m proud of her. She’d be confused, but that’s ok.

#( munday meme )#( ooc )#( about me )#( asks )

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wanderingalonelypath · 6 years ago

Text

Inquisitor as companion: Lyanna Rivens

(listen, this is a cool thing and I need to develop my newest oc, okAY)

Name: Lyanna Elleanor Rivens

Alternate name(s): Lya (to her friends)

Race/Class/Specialization: Human/Mage/Force Mage

Varric's nickname for them: Sunny (for her normally cheerful disposition, save when she’s talking about Templars or the Chantry)

Default tarot card: Lyanna in her travel outfit (in the picture above) in a hooded cloak, her staff gripped in both hands before her, orange rings pulsing out from the top. A tower stands behind her, with a giant crack through the middle, to the point where it looks as if the top is about to slide off. The sky is dark.

How they are recruited: In Redcliffe, upon exiting the Chantry after talking to Dorian, or standing around outside the Chantry if not doing In Hushed Whispers, the Inquisitor is approached by Lyanna. She questions if they are the Inquisitor/Herald, and if they're really trying to restore order. She offers to join them, as she is a talented apostate and wants to help stop all the death. The Inquisitor can ask why she doesn't want to stay with the other apostates in Redcliffe and she replies. "I've sat in a Circle my whole life. Now that I'm finally out, you think I wanna just sit around in a random village?"

Where they are in Haven/Skyhold: In Haven, in the tavern, standing between the bar and the fireplace. In Skyhold, in the garden near the gazebo.

Things they generally approve of: Supporting mages, respecting other traditions, being curious about magic, helping refugees and minorities.

Things they generally disapprove of: Supporting Templars, supporting the Chantry, being needlessly rude, dismissing any of the companions

Specific approval points:

Choosing Mage knowledge dialogue options-slightly approves

While being named Inquisitor:

Doing it for themselves-no approval

Doing it as a mage-approves

Doing it as an elf/dwarf/qunari-slightly approves

Doing it to defeat Corypheus-slightly approves

Doing it for Andraste-disapproves

Mage, Templar, or other?:

MAGE! Greatly approves of allying with the mages, greatly disapproves of conscripting the mages and allying with the Templars, disapproves of conscripting the Templars.

Romanceable?: Yes, by all genders and races except male humans.

Romance side-quest:

Hidden knowledge: Upon finding the dusty library nook near the kitchens, a dialogue option to bring it up to Lyanna will appear in conversation. Previous conversations with her will reveal her love of learning, and how the vast library was the only thing she missed about the Circle. The Inquisitor can ‘give’ her this room and a cutscene will play when they take her there. She expressed that no one had ever gotten her so thoughtful a gift before. That no one has ever cared about her this much before. She’ll be excited and thanks them with a kiss, and the scene fades out on the Inquisitor pushing her up against the shelves. Lyanna can now be found standing in the little library or browsing the shelves.

Kiss scene: In the empty storeroom (technically the Eluvian room) camera pans to see Lyanna and Inquisitor, Lyanna’s hands on their neck and the Inquisitors on her waist.

Romance related dialogue:

I: I wanted to talk about us.

Lya: Oh? Us?

I: I wanted to steal a kiss.

Lya: (chuckles) C'mon then.

I: Have you thought about what might happen after...all this? (Only after the completion of Here Lies the Abyss and Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts)

Lya: With us? I suppose.....well. You're the Inquisitor. That depends on you.

I: I just want to stay with you.

Lya: Really? I...want that too.

I: Just me? There are two people in this relationship, you know.

Lya: True. But only one of us is going to save the world. Who knows what will be different then?

I: You're assuming we'll live through this.

Lya: Don't go getting morbid. I don't want to think about that.

If not romanced, do they get with anyone else?: If the Inquisitor doesn't romance Lyanna, she will eventually strike up a romance with Scout Harding. The romance will trigger with either Dorian, Sera, or Bull mentioning it in party banter.

Dorian: My, my Lyanna. You're awfully cheerful today.

Lya: Am I?

Dorian: It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with an adorable scout we met up with at camp, would it?

Lya: (chuckles) It might.

Sera: So....like the widdle dwarves do you?

Lya: Sorry?

Sera: I get it. All curves and woof.

Lya:...uh-huh.

Bull: So you and Harding, huh?

Lya: What about us?

Bull: Good on ya. Redheads, yeah?

Romance tarot card: The background is light green. Lyanna stands, hood down, staff in hand but pointed at the ground. Her other hand holds a red flower. Her hair is down, blowing in the wind, and you can faintly see a castle that looks like Skyhold in the background.

Companion quest:

Ghosts reaching: Once the Inquisitor has high enough approval with her, the cutscene will take them to a corner of the garden that's unoccupied. Lyanna paces a bit, before stuttering over her words. She asks the Inquisitor if they trust her. No matter what they reply (yes gets approval, no gets disapproval) she explains that she has been trying to track down someone from her past, someone she needs to get revenge on. The Inquisitor can press her for details, but she'll be evasive, before asking if the Inquisitor will come with her to the cave she tracked him to. She is locked in as one of the companions. The cave is in the Hinterlands, near Master Dennet's farm. As soon as they enter the cave, they must fight through groups of low-level Templars until they reach the very back of the cave. This triggers a cutscene where they approach Templar with his back to them, looking around as if he lost something.

Templar: The song. It left me. Why did it leave? Why would you leave me?

The Templar turns at their approach, and you can see the effects of red lyrium in his eyes and around his breastplate.

Templar: Do you know where it went?

Cole (if in the party): Hungry, grasping, reaching. It hollowed him out.

Lyanna strides forward, stopping just in front of the Templar with an angry snarl on her face.

Lya: Albert. (said viciously)

Albert: (looking at her with a surprised face) Flower! My lily flower! (He reaches toward her, and she takes a step back, flinching) You’ll help me, won’t you?

Lya: Help you?! Why would I help you?! After everything you’ve done?!

Albert: (puts his face in his hands, shaking his head) I need it, I need it, I need it.

The Inquisitor has three options of dialogue:

I: What exactly did he do?

Lya: What Templars always do. He used his power and status to abuse mages and never got punished for it, the least I can do is see him dead for it.

I: I...don’t think he’s all there.

Lya: (disgusted scoff) Of course not. Why should he have to face the consequences of his actions when he could just dose up on red lyrium? Better to put him out of both of our miseries.

I: The red lyrium has him.

Lya: Why am I not surprised? Now he can’t even beg me for his life. Not that it would make a difference.

At the end of all of these dialogue options, Lyanna takes out a knife as Albert falls to his knees, she walks until she’s holding the knife to his throat. The Inquisitor is given the choice to let her kill him, netting a Greatly Approves, or intervene, stating that the red lyrium has already driven him mad, so there’s no point, which nets a disapproves.

If allowed to kill Albert, Lyanna stares at his body on the ground for a moment, before turning silently and exiting the scene. If the Inquisitor stops her, she stares down at him for a moment, before letting out a frustrated yell and throwing the knife, storming out of the scene.

The Inquisitor can later find her in her spot at Skyhold, reading a book and ignoring the Inquisitor until they say, “About that templar...”

Lyanna sighs and closes the book, moving until she faces them. “He was a templar at my Circle, awful and corrupt as all the others. He abused mages, tormented them with the threat of Tranquility, used it to blackmail their silence.

(If allowed to kill him) He deserved to die. He deserved worse, but thank you for letting me kill him.

(If not allowed to kill him) He deserved to die, but...You were right. He was gone on red lyrium. At least I know he won’t hurt anyone else.”

Inquisitor has three dialogue options.

I: Are you alright?

Lya: Not really, but I’m...better than before.

I: I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry.

Lya: (bitter chuckle) Templars will do that to me, I’m afraid.

I: Are there any more Templars in your past that I need to worry about you hunting down?

Lya: No. All the others are either dead or I have no idea where they are. And...if I’m going to move on from what happened to me, I need to put the past behind me.

If the Inquisitor has high approval with Lyanna, a fourth special dialogue is unlocked.

I: I heard what he did, but that seemed...personal.

Lya:...it was. I was his ‘favorite’. He used to call me his lily flower, watch me closely whenever I was near him. It wasn’t that bad at first until he tried to kiss me. I pushed him away, and then he started to get violent. Beating me for the smallest of infractions, threatening to make me Tranquil if I didn’t do what he said. He...snuck in my rooms at night. He was a Templar. There was nothing I could do.

At the end of all these dialogue options, you net a Greatly Approves.

Lya: Thanks for coming with me. I’m glad I had someone else there.

Companion side quests:

The Corrupt and the Wicked: Groups of rogue Templars are holding mages and Tranquil hostage. Hunt them down, kill them, and free the prisoners. Each instance nets-Approves.

Tarot card after companion quest: Lya now stands in front of Skyhold, hood down, staff straight but in one hand. Her other holds a broken chain, symbolizing her leaving her past in the Circle behind her.

Lyanna’s comment on the Inquisitor’s specialization:

Rift Mage: You’re learning to use rift energy in your magic? That’s...fascinating, actually. Do be careful, though. We don’t need another Breach for you to close.

Templar: (disapproves) Really? You want to be a Templar? Should I look over my shoulder for you to smite me as well then? I’m sure you can find some of their armor around here, though.

Tempest: So you use potions to cover yourself in the elements? Do you use a different potion to protect yourself from the others’ effects? Or is it something in the formula that keeps you from getting hurt? Good on you, though. Looks useful.

Assassin: Training as an assassin? Well, at least you have something to fall back on after the Inquisition. I hope you never get a contract for me. (jokingly) I’d at least make you work for it.

Relationships with other characters:

Cassandra: Wary acquaintances. For all Cassandra claims to not be a Templar, she still acts like one and answers to the Chantry. They get into light bickering over mages and the Chantry, but they're not hostile. More comrades in arms than friends. If slated to become Divine, Lyanna expresses reluctance and a slight fear for the future.

Varric: Friends. Bond over being from the Free Marches. He asks her about her background before she got taken to the Circle. She tells him about how her parents were farmers near Ansburg and she was taken away at the age of 8. She asks him to tell her stories sometimes.

Solas: Close friends. They chat over magic and the Fade, she is particularly curious about his dream walking and relationships with spirits. They often chat about magical theory and how to reform how the world sees mages.

Sera: Friends-adjacent. Aren't antagonistic, but their views on mages don't line up. Sometimes bicker about magic. Also, joke around, so it's evenly balanced.

Vivienne: Decidedly not friends. Any bonding over magic or circle life is immediately canceled out by Vivienne refusing to acknowledge her privilege in the Circles. They bicker incessantly over the condition of the Circles and the future of mages. If asked about Vivienne in private dialogue she will admit her dislike of the woman but will comment that she respects her skill with magic and talents in court. If slated to become Divine, Lyanna expresses fear, and later at the celebratory feast, asks if the Inquisition would be turning its mages over to the Circles after Vivienne reinstates them. If the Inquisitor indicates that they will, she replies, “I see. Enjoy the party, Inquisitor.” It is later discovered that Lyanna fled Skyhold that night, with no one knowing where she was headed. If approval with her is low enough, she will leave after the feast regardless if the Inquisitor intends to protect the mages under their care or not. If this happens, she will not appear in Trespasser.

Iron Bull: They get along but they're not close (ironic because he's her romance interest as Inquisitor). He has an easy-going attitude that she didn't expect, but is still leery of him because of what little she knows of the Qun. Still, she questions him about it often because it intrigues her.

Dorian: Fast friends once they get past the whole Tevinter hurdle, which happens quicker than you'd think. She knows a thing or two about being judged by what you are, not who you are. They chat often about magic, Tevinter, Ansburg, the Circles, you name it. Often joke about.

Blackwall: Acquaintances. They don’t have much in common. She asks him about Grey Wardens sometimes, and he comments on her magic a bit, to compliment how neatly cast her spells are.

Cole: Leery of him at first, but takes a liking to him once she understands him. Often asks him about what it's like to be a spirit, and takes him digging in her head better than most.

Cole’s reading on them: “You were left, wandering, afraid, but so achingly free. The sky reaches for a thousand leagues and even though the world hunts you, the chains are finally falling away.”

Cullen: Dislikes him on principle, and never grows close enough to him for that to change. Doesn't expect him to smite her and stab her in the back, which is as good as it's going to get between her and a former Templar.

Josephine: Respects her abilities with the nobles, but doesn't particularly care for politics. Calls her pretty in passing, but never tries to get closer to her.

Leliana: Slightly terrified of her, and respects her quite a bit, both for her abilities and her opinions on mages. If she is slated to become Divine, Lyanna hesitantly shows hope for her future.

Ambient dialogue:

Searching items: Something's nearby.

High dragon sighting: Holy shit!

Low health:

Dammit, lucky shot!

How many are there?!

Inquisitor falls in battle:

Help the Inquisitor!

Inquisitor!

Greetings/goodbye's:

Low approval:

Hm?

What?

(farewell) Mhmm.

Medium/neutral approval:

Yes?

Need something?

(farewell) Later, then.

High approval:

(happily) Inquisitor!

Hey there!

(farewell) See you soon!

Romanced:

Darling?

Yes, love?

(farewell) I do love watching you walk away.

The Fade:

How they react: “Shit, are we actually...? (She looks around) Shit.”

Their tombstone: Obedience

What the Fears look like to them: Wolves. When she first left her Circle after it fell, the group she was traveling with was attacked by wolves the first night they made camp. The wolves killed two of the mages with them. They are a reminder that this world she struggled so hard to be free in may end up killing her after all.

What Nightmare says to them: “Ah, the little bird has escaped her cage, but for how long? Still, you stay surrounded by Templars in your little Inquisition. They will fail, and they will turn on you and drag you back to the Circle, and just like before, no one will be there to hear you scream.”

How they respond: “Fuck off, demon.”

Reflections about the Fade at Skyhold (if they went): “That was....terrifying. And exhilarating. But mostly terrifying. Let’s maybe...not do that again?”

Reflections about the Fade if they didn't go: “You went physically into the Fade? Again? That’s...wow. Are you okay?”

Hawke or Warden: No approval loss or gain either way, but makes a comment later while talking to the Inquisitor about how it must have been a difficult choice, choosing between who lives and who dies.

The Warden's: “As far as we know, they’re the only ones who can stop Blights. Definitely a bad idea to just get rid of them.”

Exile or allies: Approves if made allies, Disapproves if banished.

The Ball: “This is...certainly something. You can almost see all the lies and half-truths falling out of their little masks. I almost wish I had one.”

I: Enjoying the party?

Lya: Well enough. I’m a bit scared to talk to anyone. I’m out of my depth here, and these people know what I am. I think I’ll just stick here and watch. It’s entertaining enough.

I: You like the masks?

Lya: They make everything a bit more...dramatic, don’t they? Orlesians love that sort of stuff.

I: Seen anything I should know about?

Lya: Plenty of subtle threats and people sneaking off for a rendezvous, but nothing about our other problem. I’ll keep a lookout, though.

I: Care for a dance?

Lya: Really? I’ve never properly learned but...yeah. I’d love to. Maybe not on the dancefloor though. I’d rather step on your toes in private.

How they are announced: Apostate Lyanna, formerly of the Ansburg Circle of Magi.

How they respond: “Well, glad we could get the apostate thing out of the way, then.”

Where they linger: Bottom right corner of the ballroom, near one of the big statues. She can be found leaning back against the wall, just watching.

Are they good at the Game?: No. She has no experience in anything resembling the Game. She mostly keeps to herself and doesn’t talk to anyone, out of fear of screwing up something for the Inquisition.

What people say about them:

“The Inquisitor brought an apostate to court, did you see?

“I wonder if she is one of the rebels?”

“Don’t turn your back on that one.”

Gaspard, Briala, or Celene?: Prefers Celene reunited with Briala; greatly approves. Approves of Celene alone. Disapproves of Gaspard alone. Slightly disapproves of Gaspard with Briala controlling him.

Temple of Mythal: “An ancient elven temple? Will the wonders never cease with the Inquisition? Next, you’ll show me a baby griffon.”

Rituals or hole?: Approves of doing the rituals out of respect for the elves. No approval gain or loss for jumping through the hole, as they are in the middle of a battle.

Morrigan or Inquisitor for the Well?: Approves the Inquisitor drinking from the well, disapproves of Morrigan drinking because none of them really know/trust her.

Comments on Inquisitor's LI:

Cassandra: “Taking up with Seeker Cassandra I hear? I thought she had a soft heart under all those scoffs.”

Cullen: “Didn’t think you were the type for big, burly templars, Inquisitor, but if you’re happy...”

Iron Bull: “You and Bull? Is he...you know what, never mind, don’t answer that.”

Dorian: “Dorian’s a lot happier these days. You two are good together.”

Sera: “You’re with Sera? I...have to admit, I didn’t see that coming. But, if she makes you happy, then good for you.”

Josephine: “I’ve heard whispers about you and Ambassador Josephine. She’s quite pretty. I hope you two are happy together.”

Blackwall: “You know Dorian told me the most fascinating rumor about ‘Warden stamina’ the other day. Care to comment?”

Solas: “I’m happy for you and Solas, Inquisitor. The two of you are awfully sweet together.”

Companions comments on romancing the Inquisitor:

Dorian: “My dear Lyanna, I’ve heard the most interesting whispers about you and our dear leader...”

Lya: “Which, the ones where I run a secret mage underground with their help or the ones where they help me slaughter templars?”

Dorian: “The ones where you two are together, but I must admit I’m more curious about the other rumors.”

Solas: “You two seem to make each other quite happy.”

Lya: “I suppose we do.”

Solas: “Good. It is heartening to see people find such happiness in the midst of war.”

Varric: “Sunny, you have to give me something.”

Lya: “Varric.”

Varric: “At least tell me how it happened! Were you poring over texts about magic? Taking a late night stroll through the garden? Did they walk you back to your rooms after you had a bit too much to drink?”

Lya: “I’m sure whatever you come up with is more exciting and dramatic than how it actually happened, so I’ll leave you to it.”

Vivienne: “Surely, you must see how...unwise it is to fall into a relationship with the Inquisitor, my dear?”

Lya: (sighs) “Oh?”

Vivienne: “Once the Circles are reinstated, you will be parted any way. Better to end things now to avoid a breaking later.”

Lya: “I will not allow anything to take them from me, Lady Vivienne, nor will I allow anyone to take me from them. Keep that in mind.”

Trespasser:

If Bull betrays the party: “He fought with us for so long...we were his friends. How could he do this?”

Relationship status (if Inquisitor romanced): Able to marry. The Inquisitor brings it up in conversation, she will think of their future fondly but doesn’t think the Inquisitor is being serious. The Inquisitor will get a dialogue option to ask her to marry them, and she’ll say yes.

Relationship status (if Inquisitor did not romance them): The Inquisitor can ask how things between her and Scout Harding are. She says they are really good, and admits that Lace recently asked Lyanna to marry her. They decided to wait until after the Exalted Council to make it official, though.

#my oc #inquisitor as companion #dragon age oc #dragon age inquisition oc #dragon age inquisition #pro mage oc #anti templar oc #anti chantry oc

6 notes · View notes

bisexualryder · 5 years ago

Note

1, 10 and 13 for Lanariel and Rylee?

Ahhh, thank you! <3

1. Which should be saved – a bus full of innocent lives or a loved one?

Lana

“That’s... Maker, isn't there a way to save both? There has to be a way to save both. Whatever it would take, I could figure it out, I know I could. But...if I couldn't... I... I don't know. I can't make that decision.”

Basically, she’s the early Avengers-era Tony “I think I’d just cut the wire” Stark type. Or the Jim “I don’t believe in no-win scenarios” Kirk. Blood magic became a lot of answers for her, but she’ll always go for the option that saves both (naturally, she leapt at Morrigan’s solution to the Archdemon).

Rylee

“My loved one. Why the fuck would I want to save a bus full of other people? And the way I see it - it’s a win-win situation if you’ve got a bunch of shems that meet their deserved end and the one I care about is safe. Easy choice.”

We all know Rylee, lmao. She just... doesn’t have as much empathy for people if she doesn’t know them. Her own people might be different. If the scenario presented a bus full of innocent elven lives, the situation might be different. But, for the most part, she has no problem selfishly saving those she cares about over caring about the greater-good and what-not.

10. If a lot of people, possibly innocent people, have to die in order to make a real change, is it worth it? Can you live with their deaths even if it helps people in the present?

Lana

“I don't know if I can live with it, but... I think if it's truly necessary, than it should be done. We cannot affect change if drastic action isn't taken.”

I don't remember if I've said it before, but that meme that goes around about Anders calling the Warden to come pick him up after blowing up the Chantry? Yeah well, Lana would 100% be supportive of it and absolutely come get him, lmao. She doesn't like the thought of innocent people dying, but could absolutely justify it in cases like that.

Rylee

“Absolutely. I'll kill them myself if it means a better life for my people in the end. Ten, a hundred, a thousand - whatever it takes.”

She is the ends justify the means type, without much question. And anything that involves killing shems for the better of elves? She is alllllll over that shit.

13. Could you sacrifice yourself for the good of everyone else?

Lana

“I'm fairly certain I could find a better solution than sacrificing anyone in a situation like that. There's always another way - especially if it something the Chantry and the templars don't want us to know. If the knowledge is out there, I will find it and no one will need to sacrifice anything.”

So yes, see the earlier remarks on the first question, lmao. She just refuses to believe in a no-win scenario and anyone needing to sacrifice. She has an answer for everything and a way around any problem - so she thinks.

Rylee

“That depends - who's greater good are we talking about here? For the greater good of my people? Absolutely. For the Qunari? The dwarves? I might. For the shems? Never. Let them suffer. It's their just... reward for all the shit they've put the world through.”

She really is a “depends on the scenario” type with a question like this. She’d do it in a heartbeat if she thought it the right thing to do. It’s just... her sense of what’s “right” can be very very biased and skewed. And she makes no attempt to ever hide that fact.

(Interview my OCs!)

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shannaraisles · 6 years ago

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In Marcher Fields - Chapter 23

Poppy Hawke was never the daughter her mother wanted, the sister her twin preferred, the hero Kirkwall desired. They do not see the woman who stands between them and the chaos that threatens. No one takes the time to look, until she crosses the path of a certain Knight-Captain with demons of his own to battle …

[Read on AO3]

9:42 Dragon, Solace

Skyhold was so quiet without the majority of the Inquisition in residence.

Poppy was uncomfortably reminded of Kirkwall in the days following the Qunari invasion, a population discovering slowly just how much had been lost in the chaos, a stillness covering everything for days. There was no such mourning here and now, of course - indeed, the Inquisition had just achieved a victory over Corypheus in the Arbor Wilds. But most of the Inquisition were still in the Arbor Wilds, dealing with prisoners, ferrying the wounded safely out of harm's way. The only reason she was in Skyhold was because she had outright refused to be left behind when Cullen had joined the rest of Xena's inner circle to rush ahead to the fortress.

But there was a restlessness hanging over Skyhold. Corypheus' army had been defeated, not Corypheus himself. No one knew better than Poppy that he would not give up so easily.

She pushed away from the gatehouse battlements, turning back to look into the lower courtyard, quietly agitated in herself. Xena and her advisors were closeted in the war room; the rest of the inner circle were in their accustomed places around the fortress, each waiting to be told what the next step would entail. A skeleton crew of guards and servants made the fortress seem far less populous than it had been just a few weeks before. But that lack of people made unknown faces very easy to spot.

It was a dwarf that had caught her attention. Ordinarily, dwarves were a regular sight in Skyhold, the much-needed connection to the lyrium supply from Orzammar, but this one ... there was something furtive in the way he moved. He walked with purpose, certainly, but kept glancing around, as though expecting to be challenged at any moment. Poppy's eyes narrowed.

Best not to disappoint him, then.

Passing through the unused gatehouse and down the steps into the upper courtyard, she lengthened her stride to intercept the furtive dwarf as he reached the top of the wide steps from the lower courtyard. He stuttered out an apology as she ran into him, barely catching his breath before her hand clamped onto his shoulder and dragged him back under the arch of the stairway that lead to the keep proper. Bearded and tattooed - Carta, or casteless-turned-exile, she realized - the dwarf glared up at her as Poppy pressed him against the stone.

"Who sent you?" she asked, pleasant enough for the time being.

"Messenger from the camp," he answered her in a gruff tone, though she noted he was clever enough not to try and pull out of her grasp.

"Nice try," Poppy countered. "But you're not wearing any insignia I recognize, and you move like someone worried about being caught. Now ... there are two people who could have sent you that immediately spring to mind. One of them will result in you being put in the cells; the other will result in you turning around and taking a message back from me. Lying to me will result in more than a few bruises. You look like a clever lad. So who sent you?"

She could see the options flickering through the dwarf's mind - was his employer worth getting himself beaten up by the Champion of Kirkwall? No one was worth that. Inviting the woman who had killed the Arishok to kick the Void out of you was stupidity worthy of a prize, and they both knew it. He sagged a little under her grip, pulling a neatly-folded letter from his pocket. Poppy glanced at the initial written on it, and felt a part of herself growl. Bianca.

"Where is she?" she demanded, her grip tightening on the dwarf's shoulder. "In the camp?"

He winced at the bite of her fingers through his cloak. "Not here, messare," he swore vehemently. "Traveling with her husband."

"But she found the time to write this and send it here," Poppy pointed out with a scowl. She considered her captive for a moment. "Are you her courier of choice?"

The dwarf cleared his throat awkwardly. "For Ferelden and the Marches," he told her. "Personal courier."

"How many of these letters have you delivered to Varric over the years?" she asked suspiciously.

"Too many," he admitted. "It's steady money, messare."

Poppy paused, thinking over her options. She knew that Varric had called it off with Bianca, not simply because he had begun a relationship with Xena - who, in her opinion, deserved her friend infinitely more than the smith who had kept him hanging for years - but also because he had shown her the letter he had sent to Bianca making his position absolutely clear. That Bianca would disregard his request to cut all ties was enough to make Poppy angry. But she could see a way to deal with it while preserving Varric's opinion of the woman he had once loved.

"That steady money should have dried up already," she told him honestly. "Varric wants nothing more to do with her, and I will not allow my friend to be badgered and prodded at by someone who forfeited her right to his attention years ago. I am going to burn this letter. You are going to assure her that you delivered it. I am sure she'll send another one when she gets no reply. You will burn it. You will burn every letter she gives you to give to Varric, and you will swear blind that you delivered them. And I won't hunt you down and make you regret ever lying to me. Are we clear?"

His eyes narrowed as he looked up at her. "What do I get out of this, messare?"

Poppy bent down until she was glaring into his eyes from barely an inch away, her voice low with menace. "To walk away."

The dwarf swallowed, apparently not needing much time to weigh his options at this point. An offer to have your ability to walk removed by a human legend in her own lifetime could do that.

"Right you are, Messare Hawke," he agreed. "Tethras won't get another letter from her via my hands."

"Glad to hear it." Poppy straightened, removing her hand from his shoulder, and jerked her head back toward the gatehouse and the bridge to the mechanized lift. "Sod off."

The unfortunate messenger did just that, taking the steps back down to the lower courtyard a good deal faster than he'd come up them. Poppy frowned, looking down at the letter in her hands. It was so tempting to open it, to find out exactly what Bianca thought she was doing, but at the same time ... these were private words. They were words that were not meant for anyone but Varric, and though Poppy had no intention of letting him find out they had ever been written, she wouldn't betray her friend by reading them.

"Although it really doesn't surprise me that she doesn't understand what the word "no" means," she muttered to herself, inserting one corner of the folded and sealed parchment into the flame of the nearest torch.

And, without warning, green light flashed across the world, a ponderous crack of thunder following it as high above the clouds swirled, horribly familiar to anyone who had looked up at the sky following the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The burning parchment dropped from Poppy's fingers as he head snapped up, hearing the cursing that rose from everyone in this outer area.

Corypheus.

So he had surfaced. Too arrogant to run and hide, to lick his wounds and try again years from now, he was forcing a confrontation. And by the look of things, he had gone back to Haven to reopen the Breach.

She felt a flare of anger that her mistake had come back to haunt so many people all over again, her feet already moving toward the armory. She wasn't the only one headed in that direction - Iron Bull, Sera, Blackwall; they were all moving to collect their weapons, expecting to accompany the Inquisitor to this final confrontation. Poppy glanced up at the window of the war room, seeing Josephine's frightened face, Leliana's impassive wariness at her back.

A few minutes later, and she was ducking out of the armory, settling her armor and weapons about herself, unsurprised to be stepping aside as Xena and Varric hurried past her to arm themselves. Servants were bustling, throwing together packs for the journey down to the site of the Inquisition's first defeat; on the other side of the bailey, she could hear Master Dennet and his grooms preparing the mounts for their party. And there was Cullen, stone-faced, worry in his eyes as she tightened the last buckle and moved to join him for these few moments.

"I have to go," she told him before he could open his mouth to argue. "Corypheus was my mistake in the first place. I have to be there."

"I know." Cullen's sigh was heavy, but accepting, his hands falling to her shoulders as he looked into her eyes. "I want to come with you, but ..."

She reached up, gently curling her fingers to his cheek. "I know," she promised, drawing him down to press her brow to his. "We're going to win this, Cullen. I am coming back."

"Maker, please ..."

Heedless of any curious eyes that might turn to them, he pulled her into his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck as she wrapped her own arms tight about him. She could feel him trembling, knew he could feel her shaking in answer. This was a fight she might not come back from ... but she refused to admit that aloud. She had lost too much not to have earned her happy ending. Not even Corypheus was going to keep her from having that promised home with her husband at long last. She just had to see this through to the end that loomed over them.

"Hawke."

Varric's voice as he passed, his hand on her back, drew her out of that embrace, a warning that there would be no waiting for her if she missed their departure. Cullen stiffened, his lips warm against her temple before he let her step back. No more words - everything that needed to be said between them had been said too many times before. All that remained was hope; hope that there would be no more need for such words when she returned again.

Poppy nodded to her husband, falling into step with the rest of Xena's motley crew, all of them somber with the knowledge that this really was the final confrontation. Riding out of Skyhold, turning their faces to the looming threat of the Breach, they all knew just one thing ... it was Corypheus or the world.

No more chances.

#in marcher fields #poppy hawke #random dwarf #cullen rutherford #tying up loose ends #skyhold #cullen x female hawke #sort of angsty?

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heyscience · 7 years ago

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If I Were Inquisitor - Ask Meme.

@batsintheshadows @tea-me-and-smut @foxywolfmeerkat13 @howling-at-night OMG THIS IS SO FUN YOU GUYS HOLY SHIT!! Thanks so much for writing yours, and I’m so stoked to finally share mine!

If you are reading this and want to give it a shot, please reblog the original post and I’ll send you an ask! I LOVE THIS SO MUCH, I LOVE READING PEOPLE’S ANSWERS. THEY’RE ALL. SO GOOD!!!!

1. Race: I want to be a giant muscley mountain of a Qunari. I wanna be the very best, like no-one ever was, at smashing my enemies’ faces in and giving the best goddamn hugs there is.

2. Class/Specialization: Two-handed Warrior/Champion. I like hitting things, and I love the idea of getting involved in all that pompous Orlesian chevalier bullshit and RUINING IT for ALL OF THEM.

3. Your homeland? It’s gotta be somewhere warm and by the sea (because I love the ocean and also I can’t deal with the cold cos I am WEAK), so I’m thinking Rivain. Ooh! And that would mean I’d have a bunch of sick tattoos and piercings! Rad.

4. Your family? (Ok so I’m basing this loosely off my irl family because they’re my best point of reference I guess????)

So, my family. I love them, but they’re a mess.

My Mum was the ideal Tamassran. A devout adherent to the Qun. She worked as a healer and was very well respected in her field.

That was until she met my Dad, who in short, looked at the Qun and was like ‘fuck this shit I’m out.’

Dad was a soldier and one day he was wounded in battle, ended up in the hospice where Mum worked, wooed her, and they ran away together to Rivain.

They had my brother and I and then realised that they’re actually polar opposites and it’s a wonder they were ever attracted to each other. They split up, re-partnered and had more kids. So I have a pile of siblings that I have varying degrees of blood relation with, but we all consider each other fully part of our extended, convoluted family (for serious - irl I have 9 siblings).

Mum taught me business sense and how to tend to battle wounds, Dad taught me how to fight. I’ve got a lot of family of various races all over Thedas, all related (not necessarily by blood) one way or another. People say lovely things about my Mum, and the craziest things about my Dad - the stories of his exploits are so outrageous it’s difficult to believe any of them are true (like irl my dad was involved in organised crime for a while but quit cos he got bored????).

I love my family but I’m really bad at keeping in contact with them, so I get the occasional letter from Mum being like ‘ARE YOU DEAD?!’

Leliana has taken to sending her reassuring updates preemptively.

5. Who were you before? I imagine I’d be part of something like a dnd adventuring party.

We started out as a ragtag group of misfits, travelling the land in search of gold and glory. It was mostly treasure hunting and mercenary gigs, and some of the work we did on the high seas was um, legal-adjacent (piracy). But occasionally we’d stop to lend a hand to those in need, pass ourselves off as bards to earn extra coin in small-town taverns, and we even involved ourselves in vigilante justice a couple of times.

We grew into our own little family, and eventually we found ourselves wanting to do the type of work that really mattered. That’s why we signed ourselves up to work security at the Conclave, with a plan to move into aiding refugees in Ferelden afterwards. It didn’t. Quite. Work out that way. Unfortunately.

6. Would you be religious? That’s a hard no.

7. Do you have a mabari? YES PUPPY! Who is also a fully fledged member of our adventuring troupe I might add.

8. Your opinion on other races? Elves = rad, dwarves = awesome, humans = eh, dragons?? = HELL YES

9. What would Varric’s nickname for you be? Stubby.

10. What would your tarot card look like? This one is hard! I’m thinking a lot of compass imagery (because the sea and travelling and finding your way etc.)...and I’d have to be facing at an angle that best accentuates my glorious biceps.

11. Where would you hang out in Skyhold? I like to be in the centre of the action, but I’m not sure where that would be?? Probably in the main Skyhold courtyard near the entrance, in amongst the merchants? It’d be a good spot to see the comings and goings, check in with recruits and workers for the Inquisition, and also play with any kids who might be around.

It’s important to make sure the kids of the Inquisition are happy and healthy and, um, ok Josie I’ll admit it, they’re also way more fun to hang out with than that stuffy noble whoeverthefuck you just brought in from Orlais.

12. What would you do for fun? Knock back beers in the Herald’s Rest with my companions, come up with dirty drinking songs with Sera, get blackout drunk with Dorian (although I’ll eventually realise it’s a very unhealthy coping mechanism and encourage Dorian to join me in cutting down the booze), swap stories and quality bants with Varric, beg Vivienne for fashion advice, gush over romance novels with Cass, have tea and gossip sessions with Josie, poke fun at Cullen, spar with the Inquisition recruits (and scare the shit out of them), and, just anything to distract from the looming horror that is Corypheus.

13. What armour would you wear? Heavy, shiny, and bloodstone red.

14. What would your room look like? Organised chaos. I love playing host so my room would look mostly neat, but the writing desk would be an absolute mess. It would probably make poor Josie hyperventilate (which is why I’d always suggest we discuss things in her office, or at least give me plenty of notice before swinging by my chambers so I can tidy up).

15. Who would be your friends at Skyhold? I’d wanna be friends with pretty much everyone, but I think I’d be closest with Dorian (BUT of course only after giving him a solid scolding for his views on slavery, and I’d only continue talking to him if he came to his senses).

We have a very similar sense of humour, and. Oh man. I have way more feelings about this than I thought I would. In short - I can imagine both laughing with him and collapsing on the floor together with a bottle of wine (each) and many tears.

16. Would you have any friends outside of the Inquisition? This makes me sad because my closest friends outside the Inquisition would be my adventuring party and they..would’ve...the Conclave...EVEN MY MABARI. MY POOR PUPPY. OH GOD WHY. TOO MANY FEELINGS.

17. Who wouldn’t you get along with? Cole. It’s not that I don’t like him, I’d just be super awkward around him, like ‘HELLO SPIRIT CHILD HOW ARE YOU TODAY. OH, IS THAT AN INSECURITY OF MINE YOU JUST POINTED OUT?! WELL COOL, GOOD TALK.’

18. Who would you romance? I know this isn’t possible in Inquisition but I would like to be in a polyamorous relationship with Isabela. SHE IS MY FICTIONAL SOULMATE OK.

(Also I’m more than a little bit in love with Cullen but I hate myself for it so)

19. Would you do pranks with Sera? AbsoLUTELY.

20. Would you sleep with the Iron Bull (casually if not romance)? 100% YES. It’d only be an occasional thing tho, cos while I’m a masochist and I like being tied up I’m not really a sub. I’d mostly go to him for bondage tips and um. Requests for. Demonstrations.

21. Would you keep Cole around? Yes. I’d still be weirded out by him, but I acknowledge that it’s completely not his fault. I’d take his word for it that he just wants to help people and let him have at it with that freaky mind-reading and vanishing shit he does.

22. Can you play the game (politics)? A little bit. I’d have to work the scandal angle. Being a Qunari I could never hope to assimilate into the realms of the nobility, but I could win their favour by being something of a novelty. Much like Casanova in this brilliant adaptation starring David Tennant - watch from 10:42.

You see, you don’t have to be liked by everybody, just the right people, and you can usually get them onside by just being very fucking entertaining.

23. What would be on your tombstone in the fade (What are you afraid of)? Ghosts. I’m not sure how well that translates to a Thedas setting but still, it’s my biggest fear so I’m sticking with it.

24. Who would you recruit to seal the breach? Mages.

25. Opinion on Mages versus Templars? Ok, so I have a proposal for how to fix this bullshit:

1. The Chantry should relinquish any and all control over the affairs of mages. Separation of Church and State, simple as that.

2. The Templar Order should be disbanded, and the practice of indenturing soldiers by saddling them with a lyrium addiction should be banned.

3. All people in Thedas (and I mean ALL) should be taught about magic from a young age, both the gifts and dangers of its use. Everyone should learn about magical safety and how to resist demonic possession.

4. Mage children should attend the same schools as everyone else, but they can hone their skills in their late teens to early adulthood in mage colleges, with free tuition paid by the State (of wherever part of Thedas this is). They can research magic, learn a trade or train in combat, whatever they choose. Mages will be allowed to earn money, marry, have families, and have some actual freaking rights. None of this ‘hunt ‘em down and lock ‘em up’ bullshit.

5. Also the Rite of Tranquility WHAT THE FUCK. I can’t believe it’s a thing people actually agree to do. This rite should be downright fucking outlawed, and severe penalties levelled at the people who attempt it.

26. Who would be put in charge of Orlais and why? Briala. I wouldn’t suggest to Briala that she should get back together with Celene, because honestly their relationship was really fucked up and Celene abused the power imbalance between them. Briala deserves better (like for example me..maybe...but y’know, only if she wants to..)

So I would keep Celene on the throne but hand over all real power to Briala. Celene is a crafty one however, so we’d have to corner her with blackmail and keep a hidden killswitch on hand in case she tries to pull a fast one on us (just like the Voltron kids should be doing with Lotor, which sorry, I know that isn’t related but I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT IT).

27. Would you sacrifice the Chargers? NEVER.

Seriously Fuck the Qun. The Qun actively promotes eugenics with how they selectively “breed” their people. ALSO the Qunari are gaslighted into believing that they will literally go insane if they don’t follow the Qun?!!!?!?!!??!??! FUCK THAT SHIT.

So yeah, I was never keen on the idea of allying with the Qunari, so when Gatt’s like ‘if you sacrifice the dreadnought there will be no alliance’ I’m like ‘I am ok with this.’ Also, of course, I love the Chargers with all my heart and couldn’t bear to lose them.

28. Would you go after Blackwall? Yeah. He should put all his moral posturing to good fucking use and try being an actual hero. I’d make him join the Wardens, cos it’s effectively a death sentence (or an early grave at least ) and I don’t 100% dislike him, so I know he’d be cool with it because he has a giant fucking hard-on for the Wardens (Jesus fuck).

29. Would you drink from the well? Nnnnnoooooooooo..and it’s because I would fucking die for Morrigan. I wish I could say I have a well considered reason, but I’m just pathetic like that. She could say jump and I’d say ‘I’d rather not, but, counter offer - would you instead like to sit on my face?’

30. Where would you go if the Inquisition was disbanded? Minrathous. It’s warmer there (I love Skyhold but fucking hate the cold), and I would involve myself in the inevitable slave uprising - helping out in whatever way I can. Also I’d just be having a fucking great time terrorising the Magisters, rocking up at the Magisterium like ‘LOOKIT ME I’M A RAGING QUNARI HERE TO INVADE, RARRGHH!! oh hey Dorian, what’s up babe how’ve you been????’

31. How do you react to the egg telling you he is an elven god? The five stages of grief:

Denial - lol no ur not, you’re our painty pyjamas nerd!

Anger - Wait, so it’s YOUR FUCKING FAULT MY FRIENDS AND EVERYONE ELSE DIED AT THE CONCLAVE??!?! I AM GONNA GUT YOU AND STRING YOU UP BY YOUR INTESTINES SO I CAN USE YOUR WEEDY BODY AS A GORE PINATA YOU FUCKING MONSTER

Bargaining - but you’re a god right? Does that mean you can bring them back? Can you undo all this somehow? You gotta have superpowers or some shit right??!?

Depression - After all we’ve been through...you never even saw us as people, did you? Did you ever think of me as a friend? Or anyone else? How could you be ok with murdering your friends? Solas, please, you don’t have to do this. I know that if we work together we can find a better way. You don’t have to destroy the world to save it.

Acceptance - ..................I fUCKING HATE YOU SOLAS.

#ask meme #me as inquisitor #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #qunari inquisitor #Rivain #THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN ARRGHSJFHWI

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paragonrobits · 6 years ago

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Lady Adaar and her stabby elf friend Mahaenon have a talk about how weird it is that Solas actually goes by the elven word for Pride.

Also on Ao3 and FFnet!

Haven was a nice enough place to call home. Perhaps not for long, as had mused the inner circle of the fledgling Inquisition's agents; the eight of them, forming the very core of the reborn organization's most powerful and skilled agents, all clustering around the Herald of Andraste. When you were a qunari surrounded by, mostly, humans and ones that might have a ax to grind against anyone with horns and metallic-colored skin, you were grateful for company that was going to protect you from them.

Particularly when you were an apostate. The word meant little but, somehow, Herah Adaar suspected, the so-called authorities of the Chantry would find some way to accuse her of horrible crimes because she was qunari and a mage at the same time.

She quite liked the situation here. She enjoyed the company; the Trevelyan twins were good-natured company, much more down to earth than human nobility could honestly be expected to be, and they were from the Free Marches, same as her. Her husband was along for the ride - if 'husband' was really the same for a long-term breeding pair arranged by them, just for the sake of expanding their families, but they got along well enough and considered the other a great friend - and Kaaras was always a sucker for the notion of protecting the weak, and the small. The dwarven Cadash cousins were reckless rouges, but good ones; she liked them, and she trusted them with her life... if not her sovereigns. And the elves...

Dammit she was pretty sure she was mostly in love there. At least, she didn't want to see them or their clan hurt worse than they already had been.

Guess I'm a sucker for being a hero, too, Adaar thought, as she peacefully drank in the bar Sister Leliana had set up in Haven.

Sitting beside her, and somehow managing to make simple posture do the job of daring the world to try something just because he was Dalish surrounded by humans, Mahanon slugged his drink back, and if the extremely strong rum did more than make his throat tickle, there wasn't the slightest sign of it. A few dwarves - possibly ex-Carta, the Inquisition had been courting their ranks and a lot of them thought that honorary clan status granted by some very tricky political maneuvering through the Inquisition with Orzammar was worth the risk - muttered in astonishment, as did the humans in the tavern and even a couple of the Vashoth that were trickling into the ranks.

Adaar contemplated trying to best him in a drinking contest. She thought better of it; she was big for a qunari, the horned giants of Par Vollen, and elves were small and frailer than humans. He was nearly half her size, but he could just drink and drink without the slightest hint of inebriation. She wondered where he was putting it all. Thinking of how Sera could eat so much without gaining an ounce, Herah supposed that elves had to have a truly wicked metabolism.

Adaar glanced around hopefully. "Damn. Doesn't look like the others are coming around."

Mahanon shook his head, his facial tattoos so pale that they nearly shone against his dark skin. The tree design of Mythal and her chosen role wasn't too different from the vibrant vitaar war paint she wore, even now. "Nah. Doesn't look like it." He shrugged mildly. "Still. I suppose I wasn't really expecting them to."

"Where'd they get of too, then?"

He gave her a vaguely smug, knowing look. "And how do you know that I know, eh?"

Adaar chuckled. "Because you know where everyone is, all the time. Come on." She laid a heavy hand on the table; not her good hand either. She did her best to keep the hand that had been... marked, hidden from view. It still tingled, almost hurt now, and the flashes of green and raw magical energy tended to upset people. And the Mark was on her good hand. It was a bother.

He noticed her doing that, and his face fell as he saw her grunt with the effort of not showing the pain.

Mahanon liked messing with people, and he had a body count higher than the entire Valo-Kas company ('shems that deserved it', he reassured them with a wild grin, and since there were so many humans that deserved swords in the face, his new friends had nodded... including the Trevelyans, who had something of an inside view of the nastiness of human evil), but he didn't like seeing anyone get hurt, either. The two were probably connected; see a shem making someone miserable, kill the shem, end of hurting. He did not have a particularly fraught internal view.

So for once, he dropped the games and came straight out about it. "Okay, okay. Sorry. Should have told you the others couldn't show." He spoke at length, then. "The Cadash cousins are off some kind of reunion with the golem that helped stop the last Blight."

"Wait. The golem that was with the Hero of Ferelden!?"

"Yep. Same one!"

"The self-aware talking golem? The one that's kind of a jerk?"

"Yep, that one. Seems that this... Shale... is an ancestor of theirs. An old-time Cadash warrior, back when she was a dwarf." Mahanon proposed a theory. "My guess would be that... uh, might be trying to figure out how to make other golems self-aware too."

"Huh. That would be interesting. Imagine all the stuff they've have to talk about."

"I figure it'd mostly be dead boring. Golems mostly just toil and smash darkspawn. Might get repetitive." Mahanon changed the subject. "Now, the humans... honestly I'm not totally sure what they're doing. Not specifics. Way I understand it, Josie thought they'd make dab hands at talking with a delegation of Templars that used to serve at the Ostwick Circle. Something like that. Diplomatic garbage." He refrained from saying shem bullshit but you could, as it wear, hear what he wasn't saying. He had too much grudge with humans to just let go of it - too much pain, too much bad blood, too much suffering and things just getting worse and worse by human hands for thousands of years - but he liked the Trevelyans to be cruel.

"What about your sister?" Adaar asked. "I think I saw her earlier today."

"...Oh yeah. I bet you did." Mahanon growled. "Bet my clan-sister is off chatting with Solas," He gave a dismissive snort.

Adaar rumbled. "And Kaaras is off teaching Sera how to do proper stitching. He's found himself a good one to mother." She took a long drink. Something about Mahanon's tone was bothering her. "Solas... huh. You don't like him?"

"Mm. Complicated, Vashoth." Mahanon stared into his drink, like he was trying to see some kind of portent. "I want to like him. He makes it real easy to like him.. unless you get him talking shit about the Dalish." He sneered, but genteelly. "If I wanted to hear someone be a snob about my people, I'd waste my time with... well, honestly, anyone except you and the others. But its worse, coming from an elf."

Adaar nodded gloomily. "Like when a 'real' qunari says anything about Vashoth like me."

"Yeah. You get it." Mahanon shook his head.

"Listen," Adaar said. "I like Solas, but sometimes it's like listening to my grouchy grandpa complaining about the good old days. It's kind of depressing."

Mahanon grinned. He looked thoughtful. "Thought your family was too young generation to have grandparents."

"Okay, fine, fair enough, but there's an old dwarf that hangs out at the farm and complains to mama and papa and all my dozen littler siblings about how much he liked it when he still lived in Orzammar. He's like a grandpa. I guess." Adaar raised a hand. "One of these days I want to introduce Varric to him. Just for the snark."

"Please let me be there, I want to hear all the sarcasm." Mahanon chuckled. "...Solas. Solas. Even the name is weird. Who takes a name like that when you're trying not to creep out the shems?"

Adaar gave him a look. "Come again?"

"Solas." Mahanon grunted. "Come on, friend. I know you've been trying to learn my people's languages. His name doesn't sound weird to you?"

"No? Should it?"

"Huh. Must not have seen it, I suppose. Look." Mahanon gestured vaguely, a sign that he wasn't as together as he liked to pretend. "Solas, it... ah, it translates somewhat into a few words in the common tongue. Hard to convey it. Arrogance, overwhelming ambition... ah." He snapped his fingers, happy at working it out. "Pride is a good analogue. Solas basically means pride."

"Wait. Our elvish apostate - besides your sister, I mean - is literally named pride?"

"Yup." Mahanon gulped down another mugful of rum. "That doesn't seem strange to you?"

"I dunno. It's only a name." Adaar waved a hand with the slightly fussy, extremely precise movements of a mage still knew to the particulars of being a Knight-Enchanter. "Look at my folks. Named ourselves Adaar. I know Bull probably translated it to you as 'weapon', but it specifically refers to those giant things the followers of the Qun use. Big, loud, make a lot of fire? Those things." She grunted. "Doesn't mean much, does it now?"

"You're named after big things that shoot fire," Mahanon said slowly, giving her a wry grin. Adaar sniffed, aware that she was so big, even among the Qunari, that sitting down Mahanon did not even come up completely to her elbow. Standing upright, he wouldn't be much higher than her gut. "You're big. And you like the magic that makes things burny and explodey."

"I'm the exception that proves the rule?"

He laughed at that. "I'm just saying that, if that is his real name, that's very unusual for him to claim so." Mahanon looked thoughtful. "Granted. Shems don't speak my language well too often - Josie does her best, bless her - so he'd be justified in figuring no one would notice. But he still uses it around elves. Dalish and otherwise. You'd think if he was trying to be harmless, what with being an apostate surrounded by grumpy ex-templars with big shiny swords, he'd be trying to present himself less ominously."

Adaar sighed. "In my experience, a lot of humans refuse to take elves seriously at all. Sorry. They're little shitheads that way."

Mahanon nodded sagely. "I find that a couple swords in the face usually sets them straight. I mean. Typically they're dead but it gets the point across." he wiggled a finger. "So, if my sister wants to get her hands all over him, good for her. I like seeing her not get all gloomy and vengeful against the shems for once. But I'm just real suspicious of anyone that goes around calling themselves pride incarnate. It's weird."

Adaar took a drink. A Vashoth who cheerfully followed the religion of Andraste, even if her overall opinion of the Chantry was 'watch it burn with a big smile', she was hardly one to criticize being unusual by local standards. "I don't think anyone here is really normal. This Inquisition thing is weird."

"On that, my big horny friend, we are agreed."

"Please don't call me that in mixed company. It gives the wrong impression."

"Well. Now I feel obligated to do so in really mixed company, for maximum effect. You've gone and challenged me, falon!"

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #the inquisitor #qunari inquisitor #in which all inquisitors are canon #though lady adaar is the one with the Mark #i love these guys and want to spin them off into their own AU #side note I actually LIKE Solas but #come on everything about him would be unsettling at BEST just by that name alone #random dude called Pride or Ambition would just ????!!!!!#my writing #fics

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astarionswhore · 7 years ago

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(Because I have to be that ass) Inky ask. Go. All odd numbers with Inky that you use the most. Go! (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

OH MY GOD ALL ODD?!

im ready

i’ll do my rania trevelyan!

1. what color best represents them – definitely gold/mustard yellow. when i designed her, i put her in a gold robe and loved the way it looked on her. maybe subconsciously she wears it to feel royal and more important in a world that oppresses mages lol

3. which music genre would best describe your Inquisitor – oh shit i was always bad at these… even though rania is stubborn and bossy, i feel like she’d like feel good music, something you’d listen to in the morning with a cup of coffee, sitting in a window seat and watching dew drops melt off a field of grass as the sun rises

5. if your Inquisitor was a force of nature, what kind would they be? (hurricane, earthquake, etc.) – rania is already a force of nature lmaooo. she’d definitely be a volcanic eruption. rania has a terrible temper!

7. Which element best describes them – FIRE! she already uses fire for offensive magic, but fire is also comforting and calming. yes, rania has a temper, but she cares deeply. she’s actually very much like mrs. weasley!

9. do they have a background story – of course! to summarize, rania had a wonderful relationship with her mother until she showed signs of magic. since that day, her mother cut ties with rania , took her out of the will, and refused to visit her in the circle. rania had a terrible time in the circle, hated the templars, and became a revolutionist mage. there, she also learned how to cook and knit and heal. when the circles revolted, so escaped and almost made it out of ostwick when she saw several mages burn a farm family to death. she went back to the circle, convinced the remaining mages to let her go to the peace summit, and…. well got a cool green hand

11. are they better with children, animals, or neither – children lmao!! rania likes animals, but she connects better this little kids she and cullen even adopt three little girls after the war BECAUSE THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY! :)

13. can they cook – YES YES YES rania is an excellent cook! she and some other mages fed the circle in ostwick. sometimes she helps the chefs of skyhold during her downtime and cullen may or maybe get a little chub after the war (‾̴̴͡͡▿•‾̴̴͡͡ʃƪ)

15. are they very fashion-conscious or more practical – nah she’s practical af lol i mean because she made herself is basically the head healer in the inquisition when she’s in haven/skyhold, things can get messy and she can’t afford to wear fancy things.

17. who do you think they’ll get along with best among their companions, if any – she gets along best with solas because rania is also prideful and sometimes thinks she’s better than everyone else (LOL). dorian, she can handle in small doses but doesn’t necessarily hate him. she respects cassandra, but they definitely have two different opinions about the world. she thinks blackwall is kinda weird. also kinda reminds her of an uncle she has. she is V protective of cole, but she decided to make him human because she knows how hard it is to forgive what templars have done to her (spoiler alert, she kinda regrets it but only a little lol) she…. tolerates sera and ironbull but she doesn’t really like them. vivienne is the only one she absolutely hates. she hates her so much she almost sabotaged viv’s potion for her lover but decided to be nice

19. do they have any scars? What are they from – she has scars down the right side of her face and along her body from the dragon and corypheus fight.

21. what’s your Inquisitor’s opinion on each of the various races, if any – she doesn’t really have an opinion on dwarves or elves. they do their thing, she does hers. it’s the qunari who she’s like…. eeeeehhhhh? 1. because look when they do to their mages and 2. they want to basically indoctrinate everyone and she’s like no thanks

haha this was fun thank you shai!!!!!!!!!!!

#text poop

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calamity-writes · 8 years ago

Text

Glory & Gore - 02

[ part 1 ]

After a week on the ship with only limited exercise, Rahlen's whole body ached. When they'd marched the 'cargo' above decks and onto the docks, Rahlen's bad leg had flared in such a knot that he'd nearly fallen onto Hanin. He hadn't been the only one struggling, the prince had realised.

One of the Avaar men fainted in the heat mid-march through the city. His tribesmen were made to carry the unconscious man until the lot of them arrived at the main city square. A wooden platform was erected along one side of the square, while stalls selling food, clothing and more filled much of the remainder. A crowd of well dressed Tevinter men and women waited by the platform, many with servants fanning them to keep cool in the oppressive heat.

Rahlen found himself wishing that his education on Tevinter went beyond the First Enchanter's contempt for magisters, and included geographical study so he could figure out where the hell he was. Rahlen squinted up at the bright-stone buildings around him, but something deep in his gut kept pulling his attention to the wooden platform the slavers were leading them towards.

It was a permanent fixture. In Ferelden, Orlais, this might have been a stage for travelling plays, or musicians come to entertain for solstice. Here...

It was a slave market, and the platform where slaves were auctioned off... was permanent. Rahlen felt a little ill at the realisation. There were elves in the crowd, but each wore a collar. Some gilded, some battered and heavy, but every elf in the Square was a slave.

"Take the Princeling elf and the Ferelden giant off the line," the Templar slaver said. Favus, the man's name was Favus. Rahlen had listened and learned quite a bit on the travel to here. Wherever here was. "Master Polonius has a special buyer for those two. Sell the rest as usual."

Surprised, but wary, Rahlen glanced over at the 'princeling elf'. Hanin had grown quiet over the last week, but it was a seething sort of quiet. Anger was good, it would keep the elf from giving up. And who knew, maybe the Inquisition was already riding north on Tevinter to find the heir. Maybe the Hero of Ferelden was calling on Grey Warden allies to find where her own son had disappeared to.

That sick feeling returned as Rahlen watched a guard undo Rahlen's shackles from the line of chain. Who was riding to Fenlin's rescue? Was she just gone? Disappeared into Tevinter like any of the Imperium's countless elven slaves? That wasn't right. It wasn't fair, that she'd saved his life, brought him somewhere that was supposed to be safe, and now because of him, she was somewhere in this Maker-forsaken place. Who knew if he'd be able to find her again?

But he had to. She'd saved him, he wasn't about to abandon her when she needed help in return.

"Follow me," one of the guards said. The other stood behind them, sword drawn. Rahlen nodded. He glanced at Hanin, trying to warn the elf not to try anything. As much as Rahlen wanted to break free of the Maker damned shackles and make a run for it, his leg would hardly let him do so. Better to wait, find a more opportune-

"Magister Bastards," Hanin leapt at the nearest guard, fingers glowing with the start of a spell. Rahlen winced as a clap of thunder and flash of bright light lit up Hanin's Collar. The elf fell to the cobblestone ground, his entire body flexed tight as the collar delivered it's painful shock.

"Had enough, slave?" the guard Hanin had leapt at sneered. "Get on your feet, if you can't walk, Master Polonius sees no reason to keep you and you'll get sold to the cheap fleshhouses."

The collar spat a last few sparks before it returned to it's dormant state. Rahlen held his palms up to the guard when the Tevinter man's gaze swung to him. They'd enchanted the collars then, to discharge an electric shock when the wearer tried to cast a spell. Good information to know, even if it was at Hanin's expense.

"Fuck you," Hanin spat, voice hoarse. The crowd glanced over, but already some were back to bidding on the Avaar. As though this scene was routine, not even worth a second glance.

"C'mon, let's just go see what this Polonius wants. Hopefully it's to apologize and give us access to a bath and a razor." Rahlen held out a hand to Hanin, trying not to think about how itchy his chin was. He had a week's worth of growth on his face. It was... itchy.

"Listen to your friend, elf," the guard said. "This is better than you deserve."

Rahlen helped Hanin back to his feet, and brushed off some pebbles that had stuck to his shoulder.

"Maybe we should do what they say?" Rahlen said, the look he gave the elf was pointed. Later, they could figure a way to undo the collars, and get away. But Right now, neither of them was in shape to put up a fight.

Fenlin doubled over, resting her fists against her thighs. In each hand was a dagger, blades weighted wood to build up strength. Across from her, the trainer Polonius had brought her to, sneered down at her. Tall, muscular, the Tevene woman stood at least half a foot taller than the elf did.

"What do you think, Cresca?" Polonius asked, standing in the shade, sipping on a glass of wine.

"I think your fondness for knife ears is showing," the woman said. "But this one does know how to fight," she added reluctantly. "Though it is clear she has not had to for some time. Not successfully, at any rate." The woman looked pointedly at the scar along Fen's side, bared in the... excuse of an outfit that Polonius had given her. Mostly straps and cloth, it bared her entire torso, offering only 'strategic' hardened leather as bracers and greaves. They'd also stuck one of those damn orlesian masques on her. It only covered the top half of her face, but it made the heat worse.

"Do you think she'll be ready in time for the festival next week? I would love to have something unique to show the crowd, and perhaps impress the visiting Houses."

Fenlin listened, but kept her eyes on the woman, in case she came at her again with that damn sword and shield.

"That's in less than a week," Cresca said, turning to look at Polonius with a frown.

"It is, but I have some motivation arriving shortly," Polonius said. "Her friends. One needs healing before we can begin training and the other might not be suited for anything other than dying, but if she fails to impress at the festival, I'll sell both to the Seheron front."

Fenlin finally looked directly at Polonius, eyes widening. Even she knew what Seheron was. The main battleground between the Qun and Tevinter. Although smaller fronts had opened over the years, the main force, and the main bloodshed was on that blasted island.

Fenlin shook her head firmly. She straightened and tapped her fist against her chest. She would do everything she could to keep the prince and heir alive. She had somehow risked Rahlen again, failed in stopping them from being caught. It was her fault they were here, and she would find a way to get them all out. She just needed to keep them, and herself, alive.

"Fine," Cresca said, scowling. "Come at me again girl, and see if you can't actually score a hit this time."

Athim sat among the other gladiators in the shaded mess area, watching two humans argue about which had a better chance of fighting as the headliner in the coming festival against Athim. If he had to pick, it would have been the lighter one, slightly smaller, faster, but the crowd liked the larger one's showmanship. It would be up to Polonius and the trainers to decide.

Speaking of training, Athim sighed and leaned back against the cool limestone wall, peering at the hedge that hid his view of the main practice yard. He'd much rather be out there, practicing, but Polonius had kicked them out for the newest arrival's assessment and initial training.

"I bet it's a Qunari, one of them Tal Vashoth," a Rivani corsair said between bites of bread. Mute, don't speak to no one."

Rumours had started running wild when the gladiators realised that the only voices heard were Cresca's and Polonius's. The new slave, whoever they were, hadn't made a single sound. No shouting, no arguing, no grumts of pain.

"Nah, it's a golem. Control rods keep the things from talking," one of the dwarves said. The other one glared at the first, then shook her head.

"You'd have felt the golem coming you idiot," she said. "They shake the ground when they walk."

"Oh, righ-"

The iron door to the barracks opened with a clang. Two guards dragged a struggling elf through the doorway and threw him to the ground. he'd been dressed in the same linen trousers they all wore, though his hair had been left longer than the other gladiators'.

Athim watched as the elf shoved himself up to his feet, and tried to jump towards the guards. He received the butt of a spear to his abdomen for his attempt, and the clang of the door as the guards retreated behind it, back into the barracks.

"Not a Qunari," the Rivani said sadly. "Damnit."

Athim stood, brushing sand from his hands, and walked over to greet the new comer who was now pounding a fist on the door.

"You'll get bored of that pretty quick," Athim said, crossing his arms and leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb. "There's not much point."

The white haired elf, skin pink and angry from Tevinter's harsh sun, looked at him, blue eyes swollen and red.

"They don't know who I am!" he said, teeth bared. "They're treating me like some kind of-"

"Slave?" Athim said with a wink. "Because you are mate, we all are." He gestured at the rest of the gladiators in the mess. "But we're a bit luckier than the run of the mill slaves, I guess."

"I'm not a slave," Hanin said, scowling. "I'm the son of the Inquisitor."

"I'm the hero of Ferelden!" piped up one of the dwarves.

"Aye, I'm th' prince of Starkhaven himself," the Rivani added, and the gladiators burst into laughter.

"They don't care," Athim said, patting the elf on the shoulder kindly. "I'm Athim. Do you have an actual name? Or just go by 'the son of the inquisitor'?"

"Hanin," the man said with a wince as Athim patted his sunburn. "Just... Hanin. I came here with another man, Rahlen, but he's hurt. They are'nt going to..." he trailed off.

Aw, Athim thought. He'd come with his lover. That was sweet.

"No, Polonius patches us up pretty well, he prefers to have us in fighting form. If your man was hurt, the Master's probably patching him up before he starts training."

Hanin looked around at the others, possibly for the first time.

"Training for what?" He asked.

"Fighting," Athim said with a grin. "You're at a Gladiator school. Of course, you don't get to graduate, you either win enough to earn freedom or you die, but," he shrugged.

"A-" Hanin said, staring at Athim. "You die?"

"Not him," the Rivani said, walking over and clapping a hand on Athim's shoulder. "He's the star. Vints love them some elf. You, if you can fight, maybe you'll be the one to kill him, yeah?" the corsair grinned, showing off a few 'golden' teeth.

"I know how to fight," Hanin said, squaring his shoulders.

"Which is why you lost a fight against two guards just now, right?" Athim said with a dry laugh. "Come on, you should eat, and drink. Training's going to start this evening. Maybe your friend will be healed by then."

#Rahlen #Hanin #Athim #Fenlin #gladiator au #in glory & gore

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