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heniareth · 3 years ago

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I was really curious about what your opinions on the DAO companions are :) I know we have talked about some, but I'd love to hear more and about the others as well :D I hope it's ok to pose this as an ask :)

Sure! That sounds like a ton of fun. This might be a long one tho. Mind you, this is not the finished version of the answer. I'd like to link stuff and add a cut, but rn that's not possible. I'll update it when I can.

Edit: I have updated it ^^

Let's go alphabetically bc why not.

Alistair:

Sweet guy. So sweet. There was a moment when I was hard pressed chosing between him and Zevran (alas, Zevran won). Also, he's weirdly tall according to the wiki? How did I not notice that before?

Let's get a bit more serious now, Alistair is a great guy. The only reason he's not the hero of the story is because he doesn't want to. He has all the qualities of a leader: he's good at dealing with conflict (as evident with the conversation with the mage at the beginning. He gets where he wants to get without antagonizing the mage, but without allowing him to trample all over him). He's a solid tactitian and knows how to make allies (he suggests to use the Grey Warden treaties, after all). I bet if he was in the leadership position, he'd even not bicker with Morrigan. His moral code is pretty tight; some might say too tight, but I think it's less about the moral code and more about learning to judge people by their actions, not by the labels they fit into (Morrigan is a proud apostate and therefore bad. Wynne is a humble circle mage and therefore good). He also has a bit of a black-and-white way of seeing the world. I empathize a lot with Alistair, especially with his experience with the Chantry and his subsequent reluctance to deal with it. I really wish I had gotten to know more about concrete experiences he had during his training as templar, but he seems reluctant to talk about it (gee, I wonder why).

Since I've only played the game once, I haven't really picked up on Arl Eamon's abuse towards him, which apparently exists (Isolde, however... I mean, even if he were Eamon's illegitimate son, he's a kid, ma'am, he didn't exactly get to chose his parents. So that's so not okay). Alistair's way of speaking about them both, however, is either sign that he has not come within a hundred miles of acknowledging how much it hurt him, or that he's already gone through the whole process and has decided to forgive them. The latter shows a very strong character; yes, he relies on the approval and leadership of others, he has his issues, but he's already started working on them.

That being said, irl Alistair would be like a little brother to me. I'd tease him relentlessly (all in good fun and I promise to stop if it makes him uncomfortable, but he's just so teasable). I still wish the videogame gave him the chance to take important decisions for himself. But that, of course, would somewhat defeat the point of the game.

Leliana:

Another sweet, sweet person. Her singing voice is amazing. Her belief in the Maker inspires me (I'm a religious person and seeing religious characters represented in a positive light is Very Cool. It's also sometimes a source of discomfort, because the Church has done a lot of very messed up stuff and positive representation can sometimes veer into apologetics for things that should not be excused, but that's a whole other can of worms. The bottom line is that religious characters sometimes work for me and other times don't and Leliana works for me very much bc she's an outsider inside the Chantry).

Leliana is best friend material, tbh. I'd love to get to know her irl, discuss theology and philosophy and maybe even politics? She makes mistakes and has prejudices, but, tbh, so do I. And I do get the feeling that she tries her best to learn. From the times she intervenes in a conversation between the Warden and an NPC, she shows herself to be compassionate and open to the needs of others. What I get from her character is that she genuinely wants to help, which is something that I adore of her. I suspect that she sometimes has a hard time deciding wether she's a good person or not. She has killed and seduced and worked for a morally dubious person, and she doesn't show the same nonchalance about it as Zevran (though they both do discuss their line of work in very... professional terms). This is, however, more of a headcanon than actual factual canon.

I also very much enjoy her girly side, like her interest in shoes and dresses. She's one badass woman who also looses her cool about the latest fashions in Val Royeaux. I like that. Between her and Alistair, a non human noble Warden has as good a help to navigate the Fereldan court as they're going to get. Leliana is also, I can't forget that, clever and insightful. It'd be easy to write her off as the innocent chantry girl, but she's so much more than that. Her kindness is paired with foresight, I think. She knows that taking on the trouble to help now can go a long way in the future. I just have a lot of respect for her.

Loghain:

This one's gonna be short bc I didn't recruit him. He's an amazing villain and would probably be a great Warden as well. He reminds me of Denerhor from LOTR; once a hero/stewart of his people, ambition and desperation have driven them both down a terrible path. I have also only little idea about his past. People say he lost a lot, and I believe it wholeheartedly; it doesn't excuse the fact that he plunged the country into a civil war in the middle of a Blight. I don't have a lot of sympathy for short-sighted politicians. I wish he hadn't made himself regent. That's what I take away from his character.

Edit: One thing I forgot to mention that really impressed me was his death. I had Alistair duel him (that was a rough duel), and then it kinda just jumped to a cutscene of my Warden nodding and Alistair executing him. That didn't sit well with me. I didn't want to kill Loghain, and less so in front of Anora. But what impressed me was that Loghain just accepted it. That takes a whole lot of guts. Compare that to Howe's death, and how he screams out that he deserved (more, probably, or anything but death) and it's crystal clear who the more noble of the two is. Loghain strikes me as very lawful neutral, and any neutral alignment has the particularity that it can be dragged towards good or bad, sometimes without the characters noticing it (which is interesting from a DnD perspective; neutral is often concieved of as just as stable as good or evil, but that may not be true. But that's a different post). Anyway, Loghain's death was impactful.

Morrigan:

I could kick myself for not maxing out her approval in the first play-through. I got to enjoy a bit of her friendship by the end of it and boy was even that little bit worth it. Friendship with Morrigan is something that is hard-won. It's all the more precious because of that.

Morrigan is full of paradoxes, I think. She's incredibly wise in some ways, yet also very short-sighted (”just kill them, don't solve their problems”. Morrigan, dear, I'm not going to gain a lot of allies if I kill everybody who poses a problem to me). She is so intelligent, but emotionally... not so. She knows so much about some things, and very little about the next. She's incredibly wilful and knows what she wants, but follows Flemeth's orders all the time through. She hungers for power and independence, yet craves closeness, but won't allow herself to have it. She asks you to prove yourself to her and is extremely critical of your actions, I think, because she's afraid. She bites the hand that feeds her because it might hit her next.

Like with Eamon, I haven't managed to catch the undercurrent of abuse that seems to permeate Flemeth's relationship with Morrigan. Except there are signs, because there must be something Morrigan is scared of and who has instilled all that rage in her, and that's Flemeth. Also, she clearly hates/does not care about her and wants her dead (unless killing Flemeth was part of Flemeth's plan as well? Hm.)

Morrigan is that one person who you are nice to, continuously, because nobody else is. And suddenly she becomes less cold. And then friendly. And suddenly you're asking yourself why everybody hates her, because she's a really good friend! I just wish the other companions came to a similar conclusion, especially Alistair and Wynne.

Oghren:

They did this man dirty. He has such great lines and I'm convinced he was a great person before Branka disappeared. He has that dwarven warrior spirit, and while he looks like Gimli, some of his most impactful lines remind me of Dwalin or even Thorin Oakenshield himself. He could be so noble had he gotten some character development, damnit!

Oghren as he is written is somewhat disgusting. I hate the lechering comments and the drunkenness. And still, I don't hate him because of those amazing lines he has when he's actually sober. It's frustrating and I'll give him that character development myself if the game won't. I strongly associate the song Whiskey Lullaby with him, bc that's how he would have ended up if the Warden hadn't taken him along (warning: the song talks about suicide and alcoholism). Like I said, they could have done such cool things with his character. As he is written now... it's just sad. Moments of lucidity drowned in alcohol and creepy jokes. As you can see, I don't blame the character for either. The alcoholism happens all too often irl. The creepy jokes... I put that one on the writers' tab.

I actually think Oghren could have been a great mentor figure (I know, I shock myself as well sometimes). Next to the Grey Wardens, the ones who know most about fighting darkspawn are the dwarves because they have to deal with them constantly. Especially a warrior caste dwarf like Oghren could have brought a lot of that invaluable knowledge to the team, especially since there are no Grey Wardens in Ferelden but two extremely green recruits. Next, you get the chance to give Oghren the command of the teammates you leave behind in the battle of Denerim with the reason that he has lead men into battle before. Where did that suddenly come from? Oghren should have been right up there telling my Warden that they were doing this wrong, that they needed more food (and booze) and a confident leader to keep the armies they've called together going. Oghren should have been able to tell my civilian city elf who got recruited into the Grey Wardens a six months ago how one leads an army. How one presents oneself to inspire confidence, how one doesn't crack under the pressure, how one gets the leaders of said armies (some who hate each others guts i.e. Dalish elves and humans) to work together. And, last but not least, Oghren could have had a great story about grief. This is a man who has lost most of what made him (and what he hasn't lost he's spilling down the drain with every mug of ale). This is a man who, if you take him into the Deep Roads, has to see what his wife did to his family, how his wife got absolutely obsessed, and can be forced to kill said wife or watch her die. All Wardens loose their home and families at the start of the story. It would really have rounded the whole narrative out if the Warden and Oghren could have recognised their grief in each other and hashed it out somehow. Such as it is, Oghren is a depressed drunkard and there is nothing we can do about that. I find that frustrating.

Rascal (a.k.a. Dog):

Best boy. 100/10. I wish we had gotten to see the reaction of the different origins to the mabari (because elves probably have a whole different experience with them from mages or humans. And dwarves just... I think they straight up have none? XD). Other than that, no complaints. The name Rascal was the one I gave my dog because you have to be a right rascal to survive what he did and play the pranks he plays. Smartest breed in the world indeed.

Shale:

Shale is one of those characters that I recruited rather late in the game, so I haven't had the chance to explore their personality and worldview, really. I didn't even get to take them to the Deep Roads (this will be ammended in playthrough nr. 2). As such, I don't have particularly strong opinions on them (or her? The wiki refers to Shale as 'it', but that sounds weird). But, because I know so little about Shale, I have a lot of questions. First, what were they like before they were a golem? Shayle, as she was called then, was the best warrior of her time if I remember correctly. Why did she become a golem? Was it to be able to eternally protect her people? Was the sarcasm the golem Shale exhibits also part of the dwarven warrior Shayle or did that come later (if for thirty years you have nobody to talk to but yourself, you better be entertaining. And I can imagine how it could make somebody terribly jaded as well).

Next, how attached is Shale to their golem form, exactly? According to the banter, they infinitely prefer it to a squishy fleshy form. If that is the case, however, why go to Tevinter to try and become a squishy dwarf again? It's not like that process could be reversed if they wanted to become a golem again; if Shale survives to the end of the game, the Anvil of the Void is destroyed and Caridin is dead. Was the whole spiel about their indestructible form a façade? It might have been, but not because Shale actually disliked their form. I think it would have more to do with the loss of their memories and with the very invasive experiments and alterations of Shale's body made by the mage Wilhelm. The loss of memories means that Shale is unable to remember life as a fleshy creature. They might be deflecting by pretending that they didn't care for that experience anyway because of the superiority of their golem form. The modifications made to their form by Wilhelm would have alienated them from their body. In light of this, it's significant that Shale asks the Warden to decorate their form with crystals.

All of this is, of course, pure speculation. I may have easily missed or forgotten details that would disprove the above thoughts. All in all, I like Shale and I hope we meet them again in DA4 (given that it's mostly set in Tevinter). It's a liking from a respectful distance, because Shale is tall and made out of rock and also way more experienced than I will ever be (they are literally the oldest member of the Warden's little Blight fighting squad).

Sten:

Sten is another person I'd keep a respectful distance from physically. That seems to be the what he would prefer, at least. I've enjoyed his character a lot, especially because he seems pretty clear-cut at first, but slowly lets the nuance of his person show (gruff and stoic, but then he has an eye for art, a sweet tooth and he likes cute animals). It's also very interesting that there's no moment when you learn "the truth" about him the way you do with Zevran or Leliana. There's no big reveal about his life under the Qun before coming to Ferelden. He says he was sent to monitor the Blight, but honestly? If neither Ferelden nor Orlais knew there was a Blight, how could the Qunari know? I think he's lying, and he takes his secrets back with him when he leaves Ferelden. And yet I think I know him enough to say that a Warden who has become friends with him has nothing to fear from Sten.

One thing I find very interesting about Sten is how he thinks. His conversation about how women can't be soldiers has been analysed a lot on this page I think. He seems to be arguing based on a different paradigma than the one the Warden has. He also seems to have a very clear-cut view of the world. What is fascinating to me is that, when arguing with the Warden and learning about their culture, he is not necessarily becoming more lax about his worldview. I think it's more likely that he is expanding his paradigma, the structure of thought through which he understands the world. I don't think that he is now convinced that women can be warriors as well. I think he rather understands that, in Ferelden, the relationship between occupation and gender is different than under the Qun. Which of the two he thinks is more right or more agreeable, I have no idea. I'm also not very interested in that. But I find it fascinating how he always seems to be looking on quietly, gathering data, classifying it and trying to fit it into his understanding of how the world works. I wouldn't be surprised at all if his original party was a scouting party to see how vulnerable Ferelden was at that moment to outside forces. One thing I don't understand with all of this is why he urges the Warden to meet the Blight head on. No smart soldier would suggest that, except if they are foolishly proud (and Sten doesn't seem like that kind of guy tbh). I get that the Warden takes way longer to gather allies than expected because they first have to solve all of their allies' problems. But surely Sten sees the need to have allies? Is he just that impatient? Does he have a death wish (à la, I lost my sword and am without honour, better to die sooner than later and in glorious battle)? Was he his group's previous commander and is he now having trouble following somebody else's orders? Or maybe it's his way to make sure the Warden knows what they are doing? To push them into becoming the self-assured commander their allies will need once they're all gathered? I really don't know. I like the last option best, however.

For me, Sten is my fellow, more experienced soldier. Like Alistair, he can potentially be the Warden's brother in arms, but he's definitely the older brother here. He probably doesn't take kindly to tearful confessions of how hard everything is, but I feel like he's otherwise a solid rock to lean on. I feel like the Warden can trust him to do what is necessary and count on him no matter what, especially after they get his sword back. His devotion from that point on is honestly so powerful.

Wynne:

Wynne was such a support for my Warden (except with the whole conversation about love vs. duty and that she may have to choose between Zevran and ending the Blight and that she should therefore break up with him. Wynne had a point. Astala was so not willing to sacrifice her relationship with Zevran. But the whole conversation came at a point where she was already so disillusioned that she blew up in Wynne's face (”can i please just have one (1) nice thing????”)). But all in all, Wynne is great.

She has a lot of flaws. She was very marked by her life in the Cricle and, for all her age, she has little experience living outside of it. She is also a conformist despite her strong moral core. In a way, her ability to find peace with her lot in life impresses me deeply because it speaks to a lot of strength of character. Sadly, however, strength can be ill applied and used to suppress. I think she has convinced herself that the Chantry is right under (almost) all circumstances to be able to rationalize the life that mages live. She's had her son taken away from her as a baby and an apprentice killed. Her reaction seems to have been to convince herself that this was right, or for the greater good (and now I'm thinking about the Guardian's question at the temple of Andraste's Ashes; are you wise or do you just repeat what others have told you? The answer is not as clear-cut as it might be). This is why she is so irritated by Zevran and Morrigan. By aligning herself with the Chantry, she is, in her eyes, good. Zevran and Morrigan are not; they do not conform to Chantry morality and they defend themselves tooth and nails against somebody who would try and convert them. This is something Wynne never allowed herself to do; she always did the "right" thing and it has cost her so much. I'm not saying she was right (it would probably have done her some good to rebel from time to time, and to trust her own gut instinct more), but in light of this, it hardly surprises me that she's so judgamental. She has to be, or she would be forced to confront all the evil she has not fought against all those years and all the hurt that has been caused to her by the very institution she protects (and thank God she only tries to argue and can appreciate it when people have found a good life outside of her comfort zone. If she tried to convince by force or, for example, drag her former apprentice back to the Circle... boy oh boy that would get ugly). If you think about it, Wynne really is a good example for what happens if you live by a philosophy of always choosing the lesser evil.

Something that I keep forgetting over her grandmotherly and dignified character is how damn powerful she is. She has escaped the carnage at Ostagar; HOW!? She protected those mage apprentices in the Circle tower for God knows how long. In the battle of Denerim, she wades through an army and comes out alive on the other side. The wiki lists her age at 40, I think, but that doesn't make a lick of sense unless 75 years of age are the Fereldan equivalent to 100. This lady, about whom people make grandmother jokes, did all that. It's impressive.

Zevran:

You know, I would really love to know what Wynne thinks about the events at Kirkwall in DA2. It might be a disaster for her, or it might pave the way for one last bit of character development. She certainly didn't want to return to the Circle after fighting the Blight. That may be an indicator of some change in her stance on the Circle of Magi.

Edit: I forgot that she is what the Circle considers a literal abomination! Holy cow, how could I forget that?? Anyway, her conversation about what being an abomination means is so... heartbreaking, actually. It's so tentative. So careful. "Am I an abomination? Am I the same thing that has killed my students? The same thing as Uldred? Am I lost and damned? Did I invite this spirit in? Is this my fault?" Like wow, Wynne is going through something huge right there. I love it. I have to continue playing the game to see what it ends up as, but it's fascinating and such a huge thing that she allows the Warden in on that.

Ah, Zevran, my beloved (he has stolen my heart so much it's not even funny anymore). He's funny, he's charming, he's so so loyal and it breaks my heart. Zevran is the one about whom I've read most meta: these three wonderful posts for instance, as well as this one about his possible lack of scars, and this one about his lack of freedom. All of these have influenced my opinion of him and they are great reads.

I have talked about Zevran with you before, so I'll just skip to the new stuff. I have come to conclusion that Zevran is an artist at heart. This is totally not biased by the fact that I also do art, but hear me out. One of his preferred gifts are bars of silver and gold. While those have the obvious utility of basically functioning as money (they can be sold to any silversmith or goldsmith and their value is pretty stable through time and in different countries), there's also this from his codex: "Zevran shows an affinity for the finer things in life—hardly surprising for an Antivan Crow—but his appreciation can be more poetic than he lets on. A simple bar of refined silver or gold, uncomplicated by a craftsman's hammer, is elegantly valuable." Tell me that is not an artist's eye that sees that gold and sees the beauty in it. Then, there's also the meta about Zevran the Seducer which I linked above and link here again. It talks specifically about how he lets himself enjoy the target and be seen in his enjoyment. Tell me that is not an artist's eye that beholds the beauty of something he is set out to destroy. Even his talk about his assassinations show this. He talks about it as an art, the way somebody would talk about the brutal intervention in stone that produces a sculpture. Yes, it's a rationalization of the act of killing and yes killing is still wrong. But he doesn't go on about it on a moral tangent the way Alistair or Wynne would (”this person was bad, killing them was necessary”) or even through the argument of survival like Morrigan would (”it was either them or me and it sure as Hell wasn't going to be me”). He talks about the pleasure of a job well done, of the satisfaction of striking the precise point and executing a plan to the perfection so as to minimize chances of discovery and to make a clean death possible. And pleasure in seeing and in doing, this I firmly believe, is absolutely fundamental for an artist.

My favourite part about my Warden and Zevran as a pairing is that Zevran precisely brings out that ability to take your pleasures as they come and to really savour them. Fighting the Blight is tough; it's so important to find good things amidst the chaos to stay sane. If Astala saves Zevran from himself by offering him a place to stay and a purpose, Zevran saves Astala from herself by keeping her from running herself into the ground trying to save the world.

There are some things I don't like about Zev. The incessant flirting, for example, sometimes makes me uncomfortable (it becomes enjoyable for me once the Warden and him are in a relationship, but before that? Nah, no thanks). I wish he would also leave the other female characters alone (and there's so many more shameless comments of his aimed at Morrigan, Leliana or Wynne than at Alistair or maybe even Sten).

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And that's my take on the Origins companions (this was rather long. Whew ^^' I hope it was still readable and that you enjoyed it!!) Thank you so much for the ask!! It's been a joy thinking about this. I was worrying at first that the less prominent companions like Sten or Shale wouldn't get as much content but... well XD

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aziraphales-library · 3 years ago

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in the exact opposite vein of a recent answered ask - do u have any good and angsty whump!crowley and protective!aziraphale fics???

You can check out our #crowley whump tag for others, but we do have a disproportionate numbers of Aziraphale whump recs. So let’s even the scales a little with more Crowley whump fics!...

To Speak the Unspoken by ihamtmus (T)

“Uhhhh… Hi,” Crowley started lamely, scrambling to find a way to explain the situation as quickly as possible. His mind was refusing to work properly, thoughts slow as if doused in oil. He hadn’t really thought about what to say on his way here – he’d been too busy focusing on the getting here part before he would collapse. “I was wondering if I could… If I could maybe die in here, if you don’t mind..?”

The expression on Aziraphale’s face changed abruptly, telling him that the angel did, in fact, mind.

(In which a mortally wounded demon just wants to get somewhere quiet to die but his Adversary will have none of it. A story of how they both learn just how much they care.)

Hell's Mercy (Just Our Little Joke) by MagnetoTheMagnificent (NR)

What if the bucket of holy water missed Ligur, and Hastur and Ligur were able to capture Crowley?

Poisoned Arrow by LadyWallace (T)

In the heat of battle, Crowley takes an arrow protecting Aziraphale. Unfortunately, it turns out that it's poisoned and the only antidote is not readily at hand. Will Aziraphale be able to get it in time to save his friend? Crowley whump, gen

On The Nature of Ichor by D20Owlbear (M)

The Apocalypse happened, the war they all wanted is in full force, and Aziraphale is a loyal angel.

But then Crowley is struck down and Aziraphale remembers that he is a warrior, yes, but he is a protector first.

Too Weak to Fly by Woland (NR)

Crowley said Heaven and Hell would leave them alone for a while. And they did, for nearly ten years. But they are back now, with vengeance....

The Infernal Bodyguard by Santillatron (M)

Alistair Zira Fell is a popular author. Loved by everyone he meets. Well, almost everyone. Someone is trying to hurt him, and right now, he needs a bodyguard.

Anthony J. Crowley is the best, although he doesn't work with celebrities. He has three rules. He never gets too close, never stays once the job is done, and Never Gets Involved.

But this isn't a thriller. This, is a love story.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley whump #protective aziraphale #mod d

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jentrevellan · 4 years ago

Text

I'm so happy to finally share my fic for @dasmutquisition! I had so much fun with this one, it's unreal. I hope you enjoyed @sumiIong

Rating: Explicit

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins

Relationship: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age)

Characters: Alistair (Dragon Age), Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Teagan Guerrin

Additional Tags: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Banter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Happy Ending, Making Love, trapped together (sort of), strong woman, anxious Alistair, generic Cousland, King Alistair and Queen Cousland, newlyweds, Morning Sex, D in the V, Porn With Plot, Dorks in Love

Language: English

Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition

Summary: Alistair and the Warden spend the first night not only as husband and wife but as King and Queen.

Notes: Thank you @curiousthimble for being my beta!

Read on Ao3

Doin' the Fondue

The great hall in Denerim Castle was loud and filled to the rafters with people. Nobles, elves, dwarves and peasants alike were squeezed in, all clamouring to see the newly married couple. Up on the dais, overlooking the crowd that was slowly getting rowdier and rowdier with the ale and wine that continued to flow, Alistair - now King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden - slouched in his throne and took a gulp of wine.

He was terrified.

Oh, the ceremony had been a delight, and he had adored proclaiming his love in front of the Maker and the witnesses in the Chantry. But as soon as he had stepped into the hall for their wedding feast, his gut started churning. Because he knew what must come next after the merriment had ended.

He glanced at his wife beside him. His wife! Despite his anxiety, he couldn’t help but grin like a fool at the thought of his Grey Warden companion, Lady Cousland, now being his wife. It didn’t seem wholly real. Indeed, most of his life the past year hadn’t seemed real. So much had changed, and now he was married.

Alistair took another sip of wine from his goblet and his new wife glanced at him, a small frown on her brow. She already knows me so well, he thought. No one else would be able to tell that anything was amiss, but she had always seen straight through him and knew when even the smallest thing was bothering him. One of the many traits he loved about her. Although it did mean that it was impossible to keep any sort of secret from her. Even the good kind of secrets.

As he picked at his food, his new wife and Queen accepted many gracious gifts from guests. All curtsied or bowed and she was most eloquent in her response. Truly, she was more prepared for this life as a monarch than him. Her noble upbringing was a far cry from how he was raised. But wherever his trepidation lay about ruling, he knew that with this woman beside him as his Queen, that he could do anything.

She laughed heartily at a joke Teagan was telling her, and he watched as she wiped away a tear. Alistair glowered at his uncle and reached out for his wife’s hand. She turned to him, a wide smile on her face, her cheeks flushed and her lips rosy from the wine.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

He nodded his head to Teagan. “Just wondering what was so funny…?”

She blushed prettily, and a jealous hand gripped his gut. He would not easily forget his uncle’s flirtations when he had first met them in Redcliffe, and ever since, a fit of strange jealousy and need to claim her as he always came about when he was in the presence of both her and Tegan.

Waving a jewelled hand, she shook her head. “It was nothing. Rather crude, actually, so I told him off for lowering the tone of our conversation at our wedding feast,” she replied, taking a sip of wine. “Now what’s the matter with you?”

“Me?” he repeated. “Nothing. Nothing is the matter with me at all. Absolutely nought.”

“Alistair,” she said seriously, leaning in close. Her tone made him want to listen, but her golden gown with its tight bodice had pressed her breasts pleasantly together and were well within his eye line that he couldn’t help but glance down. A treacherous blaze of desire coursed through him, and with her puckered lips, her brow furrowed in concern, he wanted nothing more than to crush her to him and -

A chill went through him. He wanted her, oh yes, most desperately, but Tegan caught his eye and winked, and a shudder of repulsion went through him as he turned his head to see half of the court watching their interaction. He pulled away from his wife abruptly and reached for his goblet of wine, again and took a huge mouthful.

Ever the gracious lady, his wife smiled faintly and pretended that nothing had happened. But the look she quietly gave him as he peered at her over the rim of his goblet made his gut clench with guilt. There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, and he felt rotten about being the cause.

The dinner continued and as the servants were generous with topping up his wine, Alistair kept emptying his goblet. His wife, on the other hand, declined and stuck to watery lemonade and with dread, he realised that she was not drinking the same as him because it was expected that she needed to stay sober to conceive.

It was like a weight was pressing down on his chest, and he struggled to breathe, and it was getting worse as the evening wore on. Soon he stopped eating and drinking and just watched everybody that approached the dais to offer their congratulations or present gifts to the newlyweds. One item that was given to the new Queen was a selection of herbs which, as the kindly elderly noble had explained “would help the womb quicken”. Alistair had almost retched at her words, and instead began a small coughing fit, which required his wife to smack him firmly on the back a few times harder than she would’ve done normally.

At one point, a small child approached, dressed in a simple cotton tunic, as white as a cloud. Her hair was braided down her back and entwined with flowers. She stood before the queen who rose from her throne and leant over the table to adjust a flower in the girl’s hair. Alistair watched as his wife’s face lit up with warmth as she listened and spoke to the child. He wanted to give that to her. But… but…

“Let us bed them!” Tegan suddenly announced, and there was a scramble as the court got to their feet hurriedly, to be one of the select few to follow them to their chambers. The women reached the queen and she shot Alistair one swift look of alarm before resigning herself to their insistent tugs as they all but pushed her out of the room. Alistair followed with a group of noblemen, including his uncle.

“I bet you’re looking forward to this, m'boy,” Tegan grinned, falling into step beside Alistair, as they made their way through the halls of the castle.

“I don't know what you mean,” he replied flatly, his face feeling warm not just from the wine.

Tegan clapped him on the back. “You are one lucky man, my boy,” he said with a sigh, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve never seen you so quiet in all the time I’ve known you. Your mind has been elsewhere this evening - and I’m not the only one to notice.”

Dread tugged at him as he climbed the stairs. “Yes, you’re right and I’m sorry, but-”

“Sorry!” Tegan repeated with a snort. “You’ve no need to be sorry. Most men are as quiet as a mouse in anticipation of their wedding night. And one can’t certainly blame you: your wife is simply lovely.”

“Yes, thank you, Tegan,” Alistair ground out, shrugging his shoulder lose of his grip. But rather than be offended, the man laughed and Alistair clenched his fists. Never before had he been so tempted to knock his uncle around the head.

They arrived at his chamber door and inside more nobles awaited eagerly. The king’s bed had been arranged neatly, but there was no expectation for him to sleep there tonight. Instead, he eyed the connecting door where he knew his wife would be waiting for him, surrounded by the noblewomen.

“Are you going to leave?” he asked, looking around the room, but the men just laughed, and chatted, some making obscene gestures. He grimaced, hating the sheer manliness in the room. His manservant came forward to help him undress from his finery and removed his crown. Once he had been disrobed save for his smalls, he threw on his white cotton nightshirt and ran his hands through his hair, wiping the sweat from his brow.

There was a faint knock at the connecting door, and one of the servants hurried forward and exchanged whispers with the servant on the other side. Alistair paced anxiously and took a very keen interest in a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt. The men around him were talking about absolute filth, and he squeezed his eye tight shut, in the vain hope that his ears would squeeze shut too.

Finally, the connecting door swung open and the servant stood aside. Alistair was rooted to the spot, fear coursing through him. Are these people… going to watch ? He thought with horror.

He was quite content with where he was until Tegan elbowed him in the ribs. “Nervous?” he said with a wink.

“Yes. No! I mean, no !” he said hurriedly, his face burning.

“There’s nothing to be scared about. She’s going to be a wonderful wife to you in so many ways…”

“Shut up,” Alistair groaned, rubbing his hand down his face. Honestly, he was this close to hurling Tegan out the window.

But before he could entertain that thought further, the men in his room were pressing him through the door and - oh Maker no - were also following him. He entered the queen's bed-chamber to find a gaggle of ladies with rosy cheeks flutter their lashes and lick their lips seductively at the men. But Alistair was anything but aroused when he finally turned to the large, four-poster bed, to see his wife and queen.

She was a perfect painting of innocence and virginity in crisp white sheets with a matching white nightdress. Her hair had been unbound and combed neatly and she sat as still as a statue, her back and posture absolutely perfect for a queen. The covers were pulled up to her lap, and her hands rested delicately entwined: her sparkling wedding ring the only jewellery that remained.

He refused to meet her eyes as he slowly walked around to the other side of the bed. He pulled the covers down amidst the chatting of the court and when he finally sat beside her, a good arms-length away from her, the court finally - finally - turned to leave. Several clapped, the women exchanged knowing looks with the queen, who smiled politely in return, and the men, now incredibly drunk, ambled from the room, wishing Alastair luck and reminding him of how lucky he was.

Finally, blessedly, the last person left the room and closed the door with a gentle click .

☆☆☆☆☆

To the new queen’s dismay, the first thing her new husband did as soon as the door had shut, was leap out of the bed as if he had been scalded. She frowned as he strode towards the door, and for an awful moment, she thought he was going to leave. But no: he reached to a small side table and found a key and locked the big oak door to her chambers, followed by locking the conjoining door from the king’s bedroom.

Still not saying anything, Alistar strode around the room, pulling open curtains and wardrobes, trunks and cabinets.

“What in the world are you doing?” she finally asked, her patience running thin. The man had barely spoken to her since their vows in the Chantry in the morning, and now he was examining every nook and cranny of her chambers?

He paused by her bookshelf and flicked her a glance over his shoulder. “Checking,” he replied, before shifting a few books.

“Whatever for?”

He sighed in exasperation. “To make sure that we are alone! Andraste’s arse, I thought they were going to stay at one point and watch to make sure we… we… erm…” he coughed and busied himself by peering under a chaise lounge.

She got out of bed and dropped to her hands and knees and looked under the bed. Thankfully, there was no one there, but she had to admit that the same fear had crossed her mind. Even though she knew that wasn’t the common practice, sometimes nobility did take things a bit too literally…

“We’re safe,” she sighed, placing her hands on her hips.”There’s no spy, no peephole, no nothing but us.”

Alistair finally stopped his fidgeting and turned to her from across the room. For the first time in a long time, they were utterly alone. Normally, they would’ve fallen into each other’s arms by now, but something was stopping her, and she could tell that something was also stopping him. They stood on opposite sides of her room, the bed imposing and glaring at them, whilst the distance between them felt as vast a chasm. And that was something neither of them had experienced before.

“Everything is different now, isn’t it?” she said quietly, looking down at her hands clasped before her.

Alistair also seemed to be studying his fingernails. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

She played with the hem of her pure white night-dress and frowned. Conversation with her now-husband had never been this stilted. So she switched tactic to one he would hopefully relax with: humour.

“You know, for a good ten minutes, I honestly thought they were all going to stay and watch,” she said with a wry smile. She knew they wouldn't - being brought up as a noble lady had earnt her some education in these things - but Alistair needed not to know that. For it worked:

“Maker! You did too?” he exclaimed, letting out a bark of laughter. “I didn’t think they would, but I began to doubt myself.”

She took a step towards him. “Hence your paranoia about spies?”

He nodded. “Yes, hence the… paranoia ,” he rolled his eyes at her choice of words, but there was a smirk on his lips, which made her heart soar.

The man she knew was peeking through, so she took another step closer. “It’s an archaic tradition anyway,” she said. “I know for a fact that they do not practice it in Orlais.”

Alistair snorted. “Perhaps the only redeeming factor of the Orlesians.”

“Hmm, that and the cheese,” she smiled and finally, finally , her new husband met her eyes.

They both burst into laughter and she saw his shoulders sag. She bit her lip and placed a hand on his cheek. “We don’t have to do anything if you don't want to,” she said earnestly.

His face reddened. “But I do! I do want to! With you, that is! I just… it’s just…” he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut as he sought out the right words.

“The pressure of it all?” she supplied.

“Yes!” he gasped, relieved. “To know that we cannot come together unless it’s for a purpose. That purpose,” he mumbled, pointing to her stomach.

He was going inside himself again, so she took his hands in hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “Think of it this way… it’s for the good of the country that you fuck me senseless any time of day and night.”

Alistair spluttered at her bluntness but she just laughed as she slipped her hands from his and moved past him. There was a small table laden with food - to help keep up their energy for their excursions, no doubt - so she helped herself to a goblet of wine and poured one for her new husband. “You’re probably one of the only men in the world who can use that excuse,” she smiled, popping a grape in her mouth.

“You…” he grinned, walking over and taking the other goblet from her hand. “You are a minx.”

She pretended to be shocked. “You’ve only just realised? And here I thought you only married me because you knew I was.”

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled him to her, kissing the top of her head. “One of many, many many reasons,” he replied.

They stood content in silence, their thoughts elsewhere when she finally spoke again. “I meant what I said. We don’t have to do anything we’re expected to do tonight.”

He gulped but nodded. “I… I know. And I appreciate that, but please don’t think it’s because I don’t want... need you,” he said quietly, his grip on her tightening.

“It’s not like we’ve not done it before,” she said, taking another sip of wine. “Even if this gown pretends to be evidence to the contrary.”

“Yes, and we have done it, many, many times…”

“And we will many more,” she confirmed, popping another grape in her mouth, the sweetness washing over her tongue. She turned to him: “but not tonight.”

“Thank the Maker I married you,” he murmured, downing the rest of his wine.

“But I do have a wicked idea…”

He glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

“We should take all of this food and eat it… in bed.”

He laughed, so genuine and delightful that her gut warmed pleasantly. Suddenly, in one swift motion, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, his other hand grabbing the cheese board and marched over to the bed. He threw her down, and she tried to not be too aroused by the action, but her pert nipples through her night-dress gave her away. Determined to make sure Alistair was as happy as could be, she reached forward and pulled him onto the bed and instead of kissing him, grabbed a handful of cheese and squashed it into his mouth.

The King of Ferelden snorted with laughter as he tried to eat the cheese, before doing the same back at his new queen. He pecked her on the nose and rose to collect more food and wine, and soon they were sitting leaning against the headboard, a delectable spread of food between them. And they gorged.

☆☆☆☆☆

The sun peered through the lattice windows of the queen’s chamber. The light was white and bright and brought Alistair blinking out of his deep slumber, momentarily confused at his location. He looked up at the canopy above him and duly noted the olive green drapes of the Queen’s bed. He’d never slept in here and was momentarily disoriented until he remembered the day before.

In his arms, still and sound asleep, was his wife. Her hair was splayed on the pillow and tickled his nose. He couldn’t see her face, but today it felt more real: this woman who had become his friend and companion, lover and hero of Ferelden, was now his wife… his queen . He gently propped himself onto his elbow, so as not to wake her, and gazed down at her face, noting the way the sunlight accentuated her high cheekbones. This wonderful, beautiful and exquisite woman is my wife , he thought with quiet awe. His chest flipped with uncontained joy and gone was the trepidation of the night before.

He studied her face as she slept, her nostrils flaring slightly as she sighed contently in her sleep. He lay back down and pulled her close to him, tightening his grip on her, and burying his face in her neck, inhaling her intoxicatingly sweet scent. The silk nightdress was so smooth and thin, and his hands couldn’t help but wander up and down, his fingers gently brushing the material over her skin, like water. Without realising it, he found himself rutting against her arse, which was tucked up cosily to his groin. He tried to still himself, she's still asleep ! But his wandering hands could not be stopped as one slowly crept up her torso and cupped a breast. The shift was so thin, that he felt her nipple harden with the barest of touches and that’s when he realised that her hips were moving too.

He pushed himself up to an elbow again, and her eyes, dark and hooded with desire stared back at him. Her lips parted with a hitched breath and he flicked her nipple with his thumb. Moving his hand downwards, he swallowed her breathy moan as his fingers teased the hem of her smalls, mouth crashing down on hers in simple, uncontained desire.

They had not so much as kissed since they had said their wedding vows in the Chantry, he realised. And as his tongue licked her upper lip, he swore to himself that he would never leave it so long to kiss her again. Her mouth opened with a sigh and their tongues danced as he continued to rut, and she squirmed against him as his hand finally slipped into her smalls in search of her bud.

He stifled a groan as he found her hand already there, gently touching herself. His fingers joined hers whilst they moved their hips and she guided him with her hand. He slipped a digit inside of her and she gasped, squirming against his erection, straining against his smalls, and he pictured feeling her growing wetness around his cock. With impatience, he slid her nightdress up so she was exposed and he pulled his cock out and rubbed it blissfully between her cheeks. Her soft skin was as smooth as silk as he rocked his hips, gaining pleasant friction with her arse.

“More…” she whispered, as her fingers joined his, pumping inside her. And with his control waning, he obliged eagerly.

Alistair rolled her onto her back and pulled her hands over her head as he pinned her down. Her legs fell open for him, and as much as he wanted - no needed - to be inside her, Alistair knew what his lady wife needed more was to be spoiled. If it were up to him, the king would love to stay buried between his wife’s legs for the rest of his days, as her taste was so sweet. He trailed kisses down her neck, and her hips lifted up to meet his, and his resolve almost broke as her core was teased against his cock. But being a Warden had one excellent perk: incomparable stamina.

He continued down, kissing her heaving breasts as they rose and fell erratically with her breathing. Playing with one in his hand, he took her other nipple in his mouth and sucked lightly, her perfect bud hard and round in his mouth. With his hand, he squeezed her other one tight, and had her gasping: but he was nowhere near done. He let go of her breast in his mouth with a pop and glanced up at her to see her mouth open and delicious, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. He grinned and kissed her stomach, then pulled back and positioned himself on his elbows, taking in the sight of her splayed out on the bed, rosy cheeks and breathy moans all for him. He pressed his lips to her knee, then with each kiss, his stubble tickled the inside of her thigh as he moved up her legs, finally reaching that gloriously warm and wet apex in between that was just begging for him to taste.

Desire surged through him and without wasting any more time, he pulled her legs over his shoulders and licked her dripping wet folds. She cried out in pleasure as he rolled his tongue over her, and her fingers grabbed his head, nails digging into his scalp as he worked his mouth. She tasted as good as she smelt, and her hips rose up to meet his mouth, jittering as she climbed higher to her peak. He wanted to spoil her because she deserved it and more. So he reached up with one hand and squeezed a breast and flicked a nipple again, loving the way her hips bucked in response. Her nails dug deeper into his scalp and raked his chestnut hair as his other hand kneaded her arse, lifting her up so he had the best angle to eat her out.

He teased and tortured her with his mouth, and finally sucked on her clit.

“Ah...ah...Alist-ah!” she cried out, her thighs clamping around his head as she came. He tasted her orgasm on his tongue and without missing a beat, rose and positioned himself at her entrance. Her eyes flicked open to look at him as she felt him move, and a tiny smile pulled at the corner of her exquisite mouth. That was all he needed.

So tormentingly slowly, Alistair finally entered her, the warmth and wetness so indescribably perfect that he couldn’t help but let out a moan. He fit her perfectly and when sheathed completely, he paused and stared into her eyes. Her breathing was still fast from her orgasm and he captured her mouth with his, letting her taste herself. Then he rolled his hips and started to slowly make love to her, not once tearing his gaze from her face. He noticed every single expression that flickered before him as he thrust and teased: a hand on her hip and another once more on her breasts.

She wrapped her legs around him and he plunged unbelievably deeper inside of her, making them gasp and moan in unison as they moved together in a rhythm as old as time. As they moved, the pleasure and pressure mounted, but Alistair had much more control than a boy still wet behind the ears - he wanted to give her so much more before he -

“Ah!” he gasped, as she took him by surprise. She had crossed her ankles behind his back and with her strong legs, twisted so that he was forced to roll and let her sit on top of him. Incredibly, they did not lose touch, and the angle was different but just as pleasurable. She smirked down at him as she pressed her hands to his chest and began to slowly roll her hips, her breasts rising and falling beautifully as she took him. Alistair was entranced as he watched his love move quicker with a growing need and he held her hips tightly to control her pace. But she didn’t need any assistance, as she moved faster and faster, his thrusts coming up to meet hers, flesh slapping flesh. Her moans crescendoed, and the erotic sight before him of his wife move above him with a wonton need to claim her pleasure...well he could feel his control slipping. He wanted to spill himself inside of her, and see his seed drip down her legs…

“Fuck!” she cried, reaching her second orgasm, as Alistair dug his fingers into her thighs to stop himself from joining her peak of pleasure. She fell back and Alistair seized his moment to regain control and topped her again.

Fully sheathed once more, he deliberately moved slowly, as he knew that if he picked up the pace then he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. But she caught his eye and licked her lips.

“Please, Alistair,” she panted, her hands digging into his hips, urging him to move faster.

“Mmmm?” he replied, biting her earlobe and slipping out of her, making her whimper.

“What do you want?” he teased, stroking himself as she looked up at him with uncloaked desire.

“It’s more than what I want ...it’s what I need ,” she whispered, sitting up to meet her lips with his, her hand trailing down his chest and abdomen, making his muscles tense in anticipation.

They kissed delicately, fervently, noses touching, breath mingling. “And what do you need?”

She pulled away and lay back down on the bed, her legs falling open. She traced one finger down the length of her, and his eyes followed.

“Take me, my king,” she begged, touching herself in front of him.

Almost roughly, because he couldn't bear to not be in her again, he flipped her over, brought her to her knees and lined himself up to her entrance. He kissed her salty back, sleek with sweat and breathed in her ear. “As my queen commands.”

He thrusted inside, and she took all of him. She threw her head back and he grabbed her neck, pulling her up to him for a searing kiss, their tongues dancing as he thrusted fiercely, the globe of her ass bouncing against his abdomen. She moaned in his mouth as she touched herself; legs shaking as he pounded into her over and over; sweat mingling, with moans loud and needy, filling the chamber. He pumped with such animalistic need and she cried in pleasure and she gripped the bedsheets for support as he took her, unrelenting in his passion.

With a shaking arm, he reached around and touched her pearl and she cried out, her orgasm sudden and huge.

“Fill me!” she pleaded as she continued to come.

He snapped and finally, wonderfully, he reached his peak too and exploded inside of her, his vision blurred and black at the edges, as he emptied his seed inside of her - for the first time. And Maker, did it feel incredible to finish like this; in a union of bodies so perfect and natural.

Alistair, as breathless as if he had just swam the length of the Waking Sea, collapsed on top of her, laughing with joy.

“I...I love...you,” he panted, their legs entwined and he wasn't sure where his body ended and hers began.

They stayed like that for some time, and Alistair was tempted to fall asleep just like this, but she wiggled underneath him.

“Mmmm, as much as I love you inside of me,” she murmured;” you are crushing me somewhat.”

He reluctantly slipped out of her, trailing kisses all down her back and arse, making her hairs stand on end and her toes curl. He gathered her into his arms, the sheets around them a total mess, but he was loath to care as she lightly ran her fingers over him. His limbs felt like jelly, all loose and relaxed.

“Hey, Alistair?”

“Hmm?” he replied, barely opening his eyes.

“There’s some cheese leftover from last night.”

He sat up suddenly and looked over to where she pointed.

“Cheese for breakfast?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Cheese for breakfast,” she confirmed.

fin

#dasmutquisition2021 #jen writes #my writing #alistair theirin #queen cousland #alistair x cousland #wedding night #lemon #lemony goodness #shameless smut #smut #dragon age #dragon age origins #da: origins #da fanfic

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rocksandrobots · 4 years ago

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 37 - Happy Birthday!

"What if we gave her some jewelry?" Varian asked. "Like a necklace and some matching earrings?"

Hiro shot the idea down. "Naw, she already has a whole jewelry box full of that stuff and she hardly ever wears it."

The two boys were standing in the lunch line at the cafeteria discussing what to get Aunt Cass for her birthday.

"Hmmm...what about a new cookbook, then?"

Once again Hiro turned the idea down. "Can't she just look up recipes on her phone?"

"Well then.. I don't know. Why don't you come up with something?" Varian huffed as he grabbed an apple off the bar.

"Ooookay. What about… something sentimental, like a hand made card?" Hiro suggested.

"That's lame."

"Is not. Listen, she'll cry her eyes out over it. Trust me."

"Oh come on, we're not four year-olds. We got money now, let's actually buy her something nice."

The two teens stopped in front of the salad bar where the head lunch lady was busy cutting up vegetables. They continued their debate while they waited on the container holding the salad to be refilled.

"Like what?" Hiro asked. "She hasn't said what she wanted, and I'm sure if there was anything she did want she could just go out and buy it herself."

Varian crossed his arms and cupped his chin in thought. Then his eyes fell on the elderly lunch lady, who was still busy preparing the salad.

"Hey Miss Itamae, I don't suppose you could give us any womanly insight into what a lady turning 37 might want for her birthday?"

The grumpy cafeteria worker didn't answer. She just glared at them both as she deftly sliced a head of lettuce in two. Then went back to cutting up more vegetables with practiced precision.

"You're sparkling conversation is delightful as always Miss Itamae." Hiro said deadpan.

"Hey, wait, no, that's it!" Varian nudged him excitedly. "We'll buy Aunt Cass some new kitchen knives!" He then turned back to the lunch lady with a smug smile. "Thank you for the idea, Miss Itamae. You're always so helpful."

The insincerity dripped from his voice like honey and Miss Itamae only pursed her lips in irritation as she began to chop the lettuce even more fiercely.

Hiro rolled his eyes. The, quite literally, unspoken feud between them and the head lunch lady had only ramped up these last two weeks. True, she had been a little too gleeful when she pulled out the pan of leftover Monday's Mystery Meatloaf to give them, after handing the last hot ham sandwich to Karmi right before them, but Varian antagonizing the woman with his phony politeness probably didn't help matters.

"Aunt Cass literally has several sets of chef knives. I think she, like, collects them at this point."

"Well what if we just expanded her collection then? Does she have a machete yet? Or perhaps one of those big butcher axes?"

Hiro narrowed his eyes at the other boy. "Are you serious? What would she want with a machete?"

Varian shrugged.

"Yeah, no." Hiro continued. "I doubt we could even legally buy one."

"Really? Man, you can't do anything in America." Varian sighed.

Hiro gave Varian another irritated look of disbelief, but before he could say anything else a voice shouted out to them.

"Clear the way! Look out!" Fred yelled.

He was barreling right towards them on a pair of roller skates; careening out of control.

He couldn't stop and both boys had to quickly scramble out the way. Miss Itamae was not so fortunate.

Fred hit the salad bar and toppled over the edge, sending the vegetables flying everywhere and knocking over the poor woman.

"Ooops. Hehe… my bad." Fred said sheepishly as the lunch lady stood back up with a salad bowl on top of her head, lettuce stuck in her hair net and a slice of tomato dripping off her nose.

Miss Itamae stared at him with flame in her eyes and seethed with gritted teeth. Fred tried to helpfully brush off the bits of vegetables that sat on her shoulders, but this only made her even more angry.

She hissed at him and Fred scurried back over the railing as quickly as possible before ducking down on the other side of the bar. He cautiously peaked his head up just long enough to watch the cafeteria lady storm off in a huff; presumably to go get a broom.

"Are those Gogo's skates?" Hiro asked once the lunch lady had left.

"Uh, yeah." Fred admitted guiltily.

"Does she know that you have them?" Varian asked.

Fred dodged the question "Ummm… maybe?"

"Do we even want to know what's going on?" Hiro asked in a weary manner.

"Hiro, as your friend," Fred said as he placed a bracing hand upon the other teen's shoulder, "I feel it's my sworn d- woah, duty to protect you. The less the two of you know the better." And with that solemn proclamation the skates gave out from under him and Fred flopped to the ground.

"In other words she doesn't know, and when she finds out she's going to kill you." Varian confirmed.

"'Kill' is such a strong word, ya know." Fred strained as he gripped the bar and hoisted himself back up.

Varian and Hiro exchanged confused glances and just shrugged.

Hiro sighed and decided to set the matter aside. "Well, Varian and I were just discussing what to get Aunt Cass for her birthday. Got any ideas?"

Fred hummed in thought as he gave the matter some consideration. "Well mom always wants to be taken out to some new fancy restaurant on her birthdays."

"Hey now there's an idea," Varian enthused. "We cook dinner for her!"

"Oh no, you are not fixing any more weird Coronian recipes." Hiro replied.

"Hey, my cooking isn't weird. Besides all you know how to make is cereal."

"Yeah, I'm not a chef, neither of us are."

Varian pouted at that but before he could respond Hiro continued on. "Look, why don't we take her out? It's something she doesn't get to do often and we could both split the bill, deal?"

"Well alright," Varian agreed, "at least it'll save us from having to do the dishes."

"Great!" Fred cheered. "I even know of a place you can take her. Mom loves it."

Just then Gogo burst through the cafeteria doors.

"Hey! Give me back my blades!" She yelled.

"Uh oh." Fred said and clumsily skated away as Gogo furiously ran after him.

"Come on, we better make sure she doesn't actually murder him." Hiro sighed as he started to run after them.

Varian followed, but paused long enough to cheekily wave goodbye to Miss Itamae, who had just finished cleaning up Fred's mess and was back to chopping vegetables once more.

"See ya, Miss Itamae."

The woman never answered back. Instead she just scowled at him as she menacingly held up her knife before slamming it back down hard upon a head of lettuce, severing it in two.

Varian gulped as he backed away and hurried out the door after his friends. Maybe they were pushing the little old woman too hard, he thought.

------------------------

"Are you sure it's not under Hamada?" Hiro asked the maître d' who stood at the front of the restaurant's door. "Then try Templeton."

No such luck.

"Hey, tell them to check under Quirinson." Varian nudged him.

Hiro, Varian, and Aunt Cass stood in line at the Aragosta; the fine dining place that Fred had helped them make reservations for. Only the host was having trouble finding said reservations.

"Okay, how about Quirinson?"

The host shook his head.

"Frederickson?" Hiro squeaked hopefully. The matradee frowned.

Hiro sighed in resignation as Aunt Cass gently scooted the boys out of the way of the other guests who were also waiting to get in.

"Hey, it's okay." She encouraged, "So they lost the reservations. It happens. We can go someplace else and still have tons of fun. How about karaoke instead?"

"Let me check back with Fred first, before we decide to leave." Hiro said as he pulled out his phone.

The phone went straight to voicemail and Hiro hung up in irritation. Things weren't going as planned.

Just then Krei, of all people, walked up next to them on the sidewalk. He was also on his cell phone and didn't seem to notice them.

"But mother, I had these reservations for weeks!" He complained. "Yes I know your annual fundraising event for Helpers Helping the Helpless is important…. Yes I understand that the juggling seals canceled last minute... but surely you could just hire a new act? Why, Judy, my secretary, she can juggle fire for ya, I mean how hard can it be if a dumb seal can do it, right?" He frowned as he listened to the other end of the call, and then sighed deeply, "Alright, you win, as always. Love you too, mother." And with that he hung up.

That's when Keri noticed their little group.

"Oh, uh, hi Cass. Intern. Intern's new cousin-brother-whatever... Fancy meeting you here."

He gave an awkward grin and rocked back and forth on his heels, like a school boy accidentally running into his crush at the mall.

Aunt Cass gave an equally awkward smile. "Hi, Alistair. Trouble with your date?" She joked.

"Oh well, you know mom. Lovely woman, but can't not take charge when there's a crisis." He nervously chuckled. "So what brings you to Aragosta's?"

"We're taking Aunt Cass out for her birthday." Varian replied.

"Oh, it's your birthday!? And here I didn't bring you a gift. Well, happy birthday, Cass. You look great tonight."

Aunt Cass blushed, "Oh well, thank you, but unfortunately the restaurant's lost our reservations, sooo…"

"So it looks like we'll just have to go elsewhere." Hiro interrupted. He gave Krei a hard glare as he tried to quickly shuffle away his aunt. "Bye, Krei."

"Oh now wait a minute," Keri stopped them, "You lost a reservation, and I got a table waiting for me that I'm not going to use anymore. Why not take my spot on the list?"

"Oh, that's nice of you Alistair, but-"

"No buts, I insist. Call it a birthday present."

Keri gave his most charming smile and Aunt Cass looked at the two boys questioningly. Varian enthusiastically nodded yes, while Hiro silently pleaded 'no' to her.

"Weeelll, if you insist." She agreed.

"Wonderful! I'll go square it with the matradee." And with that he hurried off to speak with the host.

"Aunt Cass, why?" Hiro whined as soon as the businessman was out of ear shot.

"Why not?" Varian spoke up. "He's giving us a free table. Just cause you don't like the gu-"

"Boys, boys," Aunt Cass interceded before an argument broke out. "Look, I know Alistair can be a little… hmm.. difficult to get along with sometimes, but he means well and this is a nice gesture. It'd be rude to turn it down."

With that final word Krei returned.

"You're all set. Table number five, and just tell the waiter to put the meal on my tab."

"We were going to pay." Hiro grumbled.

"Oh that's so cute," Krei laughed, "you boys, wanting to do something nice for your aunt. But seriously though, you'll have to take out a loan just to afford the hors d'oeuvres."

Varian raised a worried eyebrow while Hiro only gave an annoyed huff.

"Look this is my treat. Dinner is on me." Keri continued, "Just give the host up there my last name."

He then gave another awkward smile and waved goodbye before turning to leave.

Aunt Cass frowned and Hiro's stomach dropped as he realized what she was about to do. He tried to say no. He tried to speak reason with his aunt, but before he could stop her she was already calling after Krei.

"Oh, won't you join us?" She asked.

"Naw, I couldn't." He sheepishly kicked the ground.

"Good." Hiro said, but was completely ignored as Keri immediately followed up with a, "But if you insist."

He and Aunt Cass shared a smile as they stared into each other's eyes transfixed and Hiro could only let out groan.

------------------------

The lavish interior of the eatery was adorned with Tuscan columns, high vaulted ceilings, and expensive oil paintings that hung upon the walls depicting the ocean. The restaurant was known for its seafood and so there were also aquariums everywhere you looked, tucked away in the most unlikely of places.

Varian couldn't help but curiously stare at one particular aquarium lodged into the center of one of the columns. It didn't look like the most efficient place to house costly and rare tropical sea life to him, but hey, he wasn't a millionaire restaurateur, so what did he know?

The little party was seated near said column at a table covered in white linen and with gold plated cutlery already laid out upon it. They were then given menus bound in black leather by the waiter who was dressed to the nines in a tuxedo, complete with a bow tie.

Varian self consciously looked down at his own plain button down shirt and grey vest and felt hopelessly underdressed in comparison. This place was far more ostentatious than he had been unexpecting.

Well at least he had put more effort into his outfit than Hiro, who's idea of dressing up was to wear his black cargo shorts instead of his usual tan ones. Not that the other boy cared in the slightest. Hiro wasn't the least bit embarrassed about standing out in high society. He was too busy giving Krei the stink eye as the businessman flirted with Aunt Cass.

Varian rolled his eyes in dismissal of Hiro's petty disapproval of their aunt's choice in men and opened the menu. What he saw made his jaw drop.

"Ninety dollars for lobster!?" He sputtered. "Who pays nearly a hundred bucks for freakin' lobster?" He hissed at Hiro under his breath.

Hiro only shrugged, "Yeah, lobster is expensive. So what?"

"But it's lobster." Varian reiterated.

Hiro only stared at him blankly.

"You live right next to the ocean." Varian explained. "You can literally just walk down to the docks and catch yourself one to eat."

"Yeah, but who wants to do that."

"I would. I would much rather catch it and cook it myself than pay a hundred dollars for a lobster ." The disdain in his voice was evident.

"Yeah, but you're weird." Hiro quipped.

Varian gave him a hard look of annoyance, but Hiro only smugly smiled back; knowing full well that Varian wouldn't jump him in such an esteemed establishment with Aunt Cass right there looking on.

Varian grumbled under his breath and went back to looking at the menu. He was going to find at least one thing on here that didn't seem like a colossal waste of money, he swore it.

Back home, seafood was one of cheapest meats you buy at the market. Freshwater or salt, it didn't matter, anyone could catch a fish. Shellfish in particular were deemed low class.

In fact boiled lobster tail was one of the few proteins he could eat in prison. Every once in a while the chef would feed it to them as a 'treat'. But that was only because no one else in the castle wanted it.

He shook the memory away as he tried to calm himself. Never again was he going back to gruel and stale bread; and if he wanted a lobster for dinner, he was sure as heck going to fix it himself the way he liked it and not have to beg for it from anybody!

Aunt Cass and Keri, however, did not notice Varian and Hiro's discussion involving lobsters. They were completely engrossed with each other, giggling over some in-joke that only they two shared. Hiro had gone back to sulking while eyeing the adults disapprovingly.

The tension was only dispersed when the waiter returned to take their orders. Krei rattled off a ridiculously intricate and flamboyant entrée as a suggestion and Aunt Cass agreed to try it. Hiro ordered the most expensive thing he could find on the menu, just to spite Keri, and Varian chose the steak.

"Well it looks like it'll be a while before dinner arrives, so I'm just going to go powder my nose. Be right back." Aunt Cass excused herself.

As soon as she was out of sight Hiro lunged at Keri.

He grabbed the older man by the shirt collar and held up his fork up menacingly.

"Okay, spill it Keri! What are you up to?" He ordered.

"Nothing." The man insisted. "Can't a guy do something nice for once?"

"Not when the guy is you he can't." Hiro said. "Aunt Cass dumped you, remember? It's over."

"Wait, they used to date?" Varian asked, clueless as to what was happening.

"One date," Keri corrected, "and no I'm not trying to get back together with your aunt. Honest."

Hiro eyed him suspiciously and Keri met his gaze steadily. Finally, Hiro relented and let go of the other guy's shirt.

"Then what do you want?" He asked, confused.

"I want your aunt to have a good birthday. Nothing more. So can we please just have a nice dinner without any more threats, or revenge plots hatched by disgruntled employees, or any other weird superhero-y stuff going on?"

Hiro reluctantly sat back down in silent agreement and that was when Aunt Cass returned. Soon thereafter the food arrived and dinner proceeded smoothly for the rest of the night.

------------------------

"I tell ya work has been a nightmare since production started on this new phone line." Keri complained. "I'm at the office everyday it seems like."

"Oh I hear you," Aunt Cass agreed. "The Luck Cat has been swamped for weeks now. I haven't had a day off in almost a month."

Dinner was over and the little group stood outside waiting on their rides. The two boys looked on as the adults chatted. Aunt Cass and Keri had barely stopped conversing with each other the whole night and even Varian was starting to feel just a little left out.

But he had little right to be. When did Aunt Cass get the chance to just hang out with people her age and have fun? By her own admission she was usually either at work all day or taking care of them.

"Sounds like you could use a break." Keri said. "Oooh, crazy idea, I got a membership to a spa retreat up in Napa. They got hot springs and a killer buffet. I'm too busy to go right now, but I can schedule you a trip. You could bring a friend and have a weekend off. What do you say."

"Weeell I don't know... I mean it's tempting, don't get me wrong, but I got the café to take care of and who'll look after the boys?" Aunt Cass said.

"Well surely they're old enough to be on their own for a few days, and I can be on hand if they need anything."

"We can manage the café if you want to go to Aunt Cass." Varian chimed in, happy to help.

Hiro nudged him the ribs, hard.

Aunt Cass pouted and then forlornly shook her head.

"You sure?" Keri asked. "Cause it's no trouble to me. It's the least I can do after.. well, after what happened last time."

Aunt Cass raised an eyebrow and Keri held his hands up defensively.

"I'm not trying to ask you out again. Honest. I know that ship has sailed, and I also know that it was my fault. I just would like to apologize that's all."

"Oh Alistair, you don't need to buy me expensive things just to say 'I'm sorry'. "Aunt Cass smiled warmly at him before continuing on. "But the answer is still no. I just can't right now, not with everything that's going on."

"Well alright, but if you change your mind just give my secretary, Judy, a call. She'll arrange everything." And with that Keri handed Aunt Cass a business card and got into his limo which had just pulled up.

He waved goodbye to everyone before driving away.

------------------------

"I think you should have taken Keri up on his offer." Varian said as they returned to the Luck Cat.

"Why, just so he can try and weasel his way back into Aunt Cass's life?" Hiro grumbled under his breath.

However, Aunt Cass heard him anyways. "Hey now, I can take care of myself, thank you very much." She admonished him. "But no, I'm not going. There's too much to do around here."

"Oh come on, I can look after the café for a few days." Varian insisted.

"And who's going to look after you?" Aunt Cass asked.

Varian looked hurt by that reply. "We can take care of ourselves."

"Oh like how you took care of my toaster?"

"That was an accident, and I put out the fire."

"Umm hmm, and the alarm clock?"

"I fixed it, and it works even better now."

"..and the dishwasher."

Varian opened his mouth to argue but then shut again quickly as he really had no excuse for that particular mishap. They were still finding pieces of broken china to this day.

Hiro snickered at their argument as he reached down under the counter to grab a donut.

The food he had ordered at the restaurant was some weird seafood monstrosity made of jellyfish, kelp, fish eggs, squid tentacles and other unidentifiable fishy bits and bobs. Rich people were weird, was all he had thought as he picked at his meal all night. He was still half starved.

"Oh laugh it up, mister 'I never wash a dish'." Varian shot back.

"I've cleaned dirty dishes before." Hiro said with his mouth full.

"Boys…" Aunt Cass groaned, ending their argument. "Look, I know things have been stressful these last few weeks, what with finals, and the café being busy… and well, everything else, but we can get through this if we stick together, as a family, and not have anymore petty squabbles."

She wrapped an arm around Varian's shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze as she smiled.

The 'everything else' comment didn't go unnoticed by the two teens. Ever since Varian had come to live with them life had been turned upside down inside the Hamada home, in more ways than one, and while everyone was trying their best to adjust, there was still clearly friction over minor things, like chores and little mishaps here and there.

"That's why you should Aunt Cass." Varian insisted. "Finals end next week for us, but the café is still going to be busy no matter what. Why not let me and Hiro run the Luck Cat for a weekend? We can get along for just two days, surely."

"And we can call Chief Cruz if anything goes wrong." Hiro piped in.

Aunt Cass raised an eyebrow "I thought you didn't want me to go?"

"I just don't think you should fool with Keri, but of course, I'm all for you taking a break. Varian's right, you deserve a rest and a few days' of fun."

"Well, I mean, I could ask Tracy what she's up to next weekend, I guess…gee I haven't seen Trace in awhile..." Aunt Cass said as she mulled over their proposal.

"Who's Tracy?" Varian asked.

"She's Aunt Cass's roommate from college." Hiro answered.

"Ah…" Varian nodded in realization, but as soon as he was done Aunt Cass snapped out of her wishful reprieve.

"Oh no, I couldn't. It's too last minute. Besides I can still have fun here with you two." She flashed them a huge grin before walking upstairs.

Hiro ran after her, with Varian following behind. "Well in that case, you can open your presents then." He said.

"More presents?" She asked with a smile as she sat in her favorite comfy chair in the living room.

"Yup!" Hiro said as Varian brought out a gift bag that was hidden in his room, and Baymax, having heard his humans return home, came down the stairs carrying a wrapped box with a bow on top.

"Oh boys, you shouldn't have." She said.

"For you Aunt Cass. Happy Birthday." Baymax said in his usual clipped voice.

"Honey Lemon, Gogo, and Wasabi helped me pick something out for you."

"Oh how nice of them." Aunt Cass exclaimed as she opened up the gift. It was a cute apron with a matching headband and dish towel. In the pocket of the apron was a little booklet of printed recipes that Baymax had downloaded.

"See I told you that a cookbook was a good idea." Varian whispered to Hiro. The other boy shushed him.

"Oh thank you Baymax. I love it." Aunt Cass said as she flipped through the book. As she was reading Mochi, curled up in her lap.

"Do you have a birthday gift for me too, Mochi." She cooed at the cat as she scratched under its chin. The cat of course gave no answer other than a purr.

"I doubt he does, but I think Ruddiger made you something." Varian said in all seriousness.

With that the raccoon popped his head up over the top of the chair, startling Aunt Cass. The forest creature gave her an affectionate nuzzle, causing her to laugh, before jumping down and running off.

Only to immediately return dragging something along the ground with it's mouth.

Once the raccoon had made it back to the chair, it turned around and lifted the thing up with it's paws, as if offering it to her.

It was a plate, and on the plate was an apple inside a cupcake liner with whipped cream swirled on top and a single lighted candle stuck in the center.

"Ooooh how adorable!" She laughed.

"Make a wish!" Varian insisted.

She did and blew out the single candle easily.

"An apple cupcake; oh how did you ever come up with such a clever idea?" She asked of Varian.

"Oh I didn't. It was all Ruddiger. I saw him in the kitchen earlier today putting it together."

This gave Aunt Cass pause. Raccoons were smart, true, but the idea of one actually cooking was ridiculous. But the sheer earnestness of Varian's comment left her confused as to if he was pulling her leg or not.

Ruddiger for his part, looked as proud as he could be, for a raccoon, as he crawled up Varian's back and perched himself on the boy's arm.

"I guess he figured you'd enjoy the same stuff he likes. Oh and don't worry I rescued the cool whip can from him before he could eat the rest."

Aunt Cass tried very hard to keep the smile on her face as the news of the wild creature rummaging in her food stores, again, was made known. She gave a tense laugh, "Well I hope the kitchen is clean by tomorrow before the rush."

The implication in her voice was not lost on Varian. "Already done." He chirped and Aunt Cass sighed in relief.

"There's one more present." Hiro said as he took the gift bag from Varian. "It's from the both of us."

A lump formed in Aunt Cass's throat as she pulled out the gift. It was a framed photograph, of all three of them hugging.

"I had Baymax snap the photo earlier so you wouldn't notice and had prints made." Hiro explained.

"And I bought the frame so you could hang it up." Varian added.

She couldn't stop the tears from flowing as she choked back her gratitude. Instead she excitedly jumped up and ran around the room looking for the perfect place to put it. T'was a difficult task as she already had so many photos scattered throughout the home.

Finally she decided to hang it up on the wall next to the staircase, right alongside an earlier family portrait, this one depicting Tadashi as a young kid and Hiro not much older than a baby.

"I love it." She finally said through her tears, as she stepped back to admire it. "It's the best birthday present I've ever gotten."

The two boys walked over to join her and she wrapped them in a hug that mirrored the one in the picture.

------------------------

Hiro carried the tray full of dishes into the cafe's back kitchen. He placed the heavy load onto the counter and let out a sigh. He then took a moment to gather himself before heading back out into the fray.

The Lucky Cat was packed today; more so than usual. He had volunteered to help out now that his final project was done ahead of schedule, only for them to get slammed with a bus load of tourists in the first 10 mins of opening, on top of the regular customers who usually ate breakfast there.

No good deed goes unpunished; he dryly thought.

Just then Aunt Cass walked into the kitchen as well.

"Phew, it's like a madhouse out there. Have you seen Varian this morning? I know I told him he could have the day off, but I might have to ask him for a rain check on that."

Hiro shook his head. The other boy had left before sunrise, leaving only a text that he was going down to the pier. For what reason though, Hiro could only guess.

He didn't have to wonder for long however, for Varian returned at that moment.

"I didn't!" He sang as he burst through the back door carrying a small wooden crate in one hand.

"Did what?" Hiro asked.

"I caught a lobster." Varian eagerly replied. "See?" And with that he held up the fisherman's trap close to Hiro, who jumped back when a claw emerged from between the gaps in the wooden planks and snapped at him.

Unfortunately there wasn't anywhere to run to and so Hiro wound up crawling onto the counter to escape the creepy creature that Varian teased him with.

Hiro wasn't the only one in the household who didn't care for the lobster either. Ruddiger popped out of the storage cabinet he had been hiding in and crawled up upon Hiro's shoulder and hissed at the invading new animal.

This did not make Hiro any more

comfortable.

Varian though was blissfully grinning ear to ear, too proud of his accomplishment to notice or care about their disapproval.

"I caught him this morning. He's got to be at least 16, no 17, pounds! I've never seen one so big. He barely fits into my homemade fishing crate."

"That's great sweetie," Aunt Cass said with a strained smile, "what are you going to do with him? Have lobster thermidor for supper?"

Varian's smile deflated somewhat as he sheepishly tried to explain to Aunt Cass the circumstances that he found himself in.

"Well that was the plan when I went out fishing this morning, buuut, I kind of, sort of, named him."

And with that admission he hugged the crate as if cuddling a kitten.

This proved to be a bad idea though. As the lobster did not like to be cuddled. It turned its claws to snap at Varian instead who dropped the crate in surprise. The fishing trapped shattered and broke apart upon hitting the ground, freeing the creature inside. Then before anyone could stop it, the overgrown crustacean scurried out the swinging doors and into the café.

"Lorenzo!" Varian called out after it as he ran to catch it once more.

Both Hiro and Aunt Cass stood there dumbstruck as the screams of customers and loud clattering noises, that sounded suspiciously like china breaking, could be heard through the other side of the door.

Hiro snagged a weary sidelong glance at his aunt wondering what she might do. All she did was just stand there, wide eyed, unblinking, with shocked dread upon her face.

The clean up of this mess was going to be a nightmare. She'd probably have to spend hours refunding customers, apologizing profusely to them, and practically begging them not to give her a bad rating online.

Hiro took pity on her, and fished out Keri's business card and her phone out of her purse which was hung up on the coat rack by the back door.

"Here," he said as he handed the phone and card to her, "maybe you should take up that offer." Then he also ran back into the café to help Varian catch the wayward lobster.

On his way out the door he heard Aunt Cass say over the phone, "Hello, is this Judy? Hi I was calling back about the spa…"

#varian #Hiro Hamada #krei #big hero six #tangled #bh6 #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #big hero 6 the series #of rocks and robots #aunt cass

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username-janai-katsura-da · 4 years ago

Note

I saw you were doing the challenge so I was really excited to more about you and you OC I hope it doesn't bother you if I choose 2 and 8

It doesn't bother me at all anon, I was secretly hopping that someone would send me the number two 😂 (also I explained what kind of relationship the main 10 have with my OCs instead of saying what they think of them, I hope you don't mind) :

2. Introduce your Scholar / 8. What would each of LIs say about you/ your Scholar ?

Name: Yumeji

Nationality: American

Languages spoken: English and basic Japanese

Height: 169cm

Weight: 54kg

Department: Athletics (Runner)

Love Interest: Axel

Yumeji is a student in the Athletic department. She lived in America her whole life and was raised by her father, a famous coach, while her mom died when she was young. After seing her dad training so many peoples, she got passionnate about running and integrated Arlington to go to the Olympics one day and win the first place in the 100m sprints category. She's a caring and easygoing girl, making it not hard to befriend her. Yumeji s a bit of a flirt with pretty much everyone except for the boy she actually likes and loves to tease the one she cares about. She has the bad habit to overwork herself and is never satisfied with the results she gets, especially when it comes to her passion, resulting her to often feeling like she isn't good enough.

Affinity:

• Alistair and Raquel are the one she's the most close to, spending a lot of time training together. It's not rare to see them challenging each others to the point of exhaustion, until Coach D has to kick them out of the gym.

• Being close to Alistair means hanging out with Tadashi too. She's really fond of him and never miss a chance to mess with him a little. She tried to convince him to help her practice her japanese, wanting it to be easier for her to talk with her mom's side of the family. That bastard accepted, but not for free.

• Due to her not being a scholarship student, her relationship with Karolina had never been bad. They're both polite to eachothers but have never tried to get close. Yumeji admires her dedication and hardwork in the fashion industry though.

• She's in love with Neha's creations and find her extremly talented, to the point that she even commissioned her a sport outfit. They grew closer during her arc, Yumeji being the one who supported her during this rough time.

• Spending a lot of time in Raquel's room, Yumeji and Claire are nice to eachothers but aren't that close, only speaking together when their friend is around.

• Both her and Tegan love video games so it's not rare to see them play together or talk about the ones they like.

• She finds Tyler hilarious and loves his energy. Him and Raquel tried once to convince her to joins them to party outside of the campus. Even if she's usually not a big fan of it, she ended up accepting but regreted right away when they got caught by Lady A who gave them detention.

• She's always up to be part of Ellie's pranks but is sometimes scared to see how much of an evil genius she can be when it comes to this.

• Axel and her have an obvious crush on eachothers and keep getting teased by Raquel who tell them to 'get a room' every time they're a bit too close. She usually flirt with everyone but for some reasons her brain literally stop functioning when it comes to flirt back with him. It'll take a lot of time for them to end up together since Axel is terrified of the idea of Yumeji getting hurts and receiving hate because of his career.

Name: Sarah

Nationality: French

Languages spoken: English and French

Height: 164cm

Weight: 69kg

Department: Fine Art* (Chef)

Love interest: Tegan

Sarah is a scholarship student coming from France, where she lived with her two parents and three little brothers. Shy by nature, she also suffer from social anxiety and is only confident when she's doing what she likes the most: cooking. After taking the time to know her, she's a pretty funny girl that loves to joke around and is always loyal to the one she cares about.

Affinity:

• She hangs out with the trio Ellie/Tyler/Tegan and is often dragged into their pranks against her will. They're really fond of her and are glad to have met her this year. Tyler is the one with who she's the most at ease and joke the most, finding it easy to be herself around him since they share the same type of humor. He and Ellie are shipping her with Tegan like crazy and are constantly teasing them about it. They try their best to set them together, because honestly if nobody push them a bit they'll never make the first move.

• Sarah has a hard time being around Karolina. Dealing with the way she treated her has been awful for her, having already a low self-esteem. She did accept her apologie at the end of her arc though, but she mostly did it for Tegan rather than for her. She still thinks that her excuse to be this harsh was stupid but will make an effort to be at least polite and will avoid to be alone with her for too long since it makes her uncomfortable.

• Claire and her are friendly with eachothers, often exchanging recipes and cooking together when they can. They almost only speak French when it's just the two of them and have little private jokes that only them understand.

• Her and Tadashi grew closer during his arc and he now consider her a good friend and confidante. Sarah always makes sure to check on him and that he gets enough sleep in vain and sometimes, Alistair has to text her to scold him a little when he won't listen to him and overwork himself (they're both part of the Tadashi protection squad)

• She's a bit intimidated by Raquel and Axel due to how popular the both of them are in the academy, but she'll get more comfortable around them after some time. They sometimes eat lunch together or hang out when they join Ellie and TNT but except that they aren't that close.

• Sarah followed Neha's advice at the beginning of the year when she told her to not talk to her when Karolina is around. She got a little bit hurt by her words and never tried to befriend her after that so they're only polite to eachothers, nothing more.

*I'm not sure if I choose the right department for her to be honest, nothing really fited so since cooking can be considered an art I made her part of the Fine Art department.

#sweet elite #ask #my OCs #dulcet games #sweet elite challenge

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pidayforpi · 5 years ago

Text

Alistair Boorswan walked down the street, past the lamp posts, avoiding illuminated areas.

Beak’s down. Hands in pockets.

Everyone knew him. Everyone knew he’s having a bad day. Everyone knew why he’s having a bad day.

It’s all on the news: The famous film director experienced his first project cancellation.

He who once walked proudly under the limelight, he who once strode with his head up...Gone in a single day, in a single fire.

He’s the first to make a reboot of the legendary Darkwing Duck. Now he’s the first to have the egg broken before it hatched.

To make it worse, he’s the first to ever seek funding from McDuck Enterprises. Now he’s the first to be refused sequential funding from Scrooge McDuck himself.

To make it even worse, he’s the first to allow a child to lead a film production. Now he’s the first to have his film production destroyed by a child.

Once the reigning king in the sector, now a joke in the industry.

If it wasn’t for the “mask” around his eyes, everyone could see the swan had been crying himself to sleep every night since.

Alistair pushed open the café door, the motion ringing the bell hanging from the door frame. It was awfully quiet in the café. Nice. Alistair didn’t want more attention. He’d had enough fun talking to the paparazzis.

“The usual?” Asked the barista. The owl behind the counters questioned his patron as he put away his book.

Alistair nodded. “No decaf this time, Franklin.”

The owl barista signed. “You ain’t gonna be up next morning, sonny. Don’t be a night owl like me.”

“Day and night seem the same to me, anyway.” Alistair said as he picked his usual seat: Next to the glass wall, observing the streets. “I would rather stay up all night and sleep all day. I don’t have to deal with anyone this way.”

Even without looking at his face, Franklin could see his customer’s devastated expression. Shrugging, the barista started brewing Alistair’s favourite espresso.

“Whatever suits you, buddy.”

———————————————————————————————

The bell rang again as the coffee machine rumbled.

Franklin raised an eyebrow as he fixed the beverage, but didn’t look back. If someone wanted him dead, he would be dead no matter he noticed or not.

Alistair also didn’t notice. His eyes were so fixated on the street at night, his ears so focused on the sounds of the city, he didn’t realise he was no longer the only customer in the shop.

Let alone that customer was someone he didn’t want to meet.

“Good evening. How may I help you?”

No response. Except for the sound of something metallic being dragged against the wooden floor.

It wasn’t the first time someone weird entered the shop. The shopkeeper had seen it all. But from the reflection on the silver coffee machine, the late night customer was someone he knew. Someone everybody knew.  The duck sat in front of Alistair, dropping his huge chainsaw onto the floor with a thud. It was half the height of the duck, not to mention its spiked tip was stained with blood. The intruder took off his oversized fedora, and tossed it to his side. His feathers were ruffled and unkempt, as if he had just been in a fight. An odour of pungent sewage water could be smelled from his body. A crazed, blue-green colour could be seen from his double-layered irises. If it wasn’t late at night (and the blood-stained chainsaw), Franklin would had kindly asked him to leave the shop.

It wasn’t until the duck placed his order that Alistair noticed his new, unwanted coffee mate.

“A cup of cappuccino, boss.” Ordered the customer in his hoarse, sickly voice.

Franklin replied with a nod, hands still focused on fixing his last order.

“Roger, Mister Starling.”

Alistair snapped out of his ponder when he heard the name he had feared for a month.

He shifted his focused from the streets to the pale reflection on the glass window.

He’s right there.

Just when he thought fate had taken everything away from him, someone’s there to take his life as well.

Alistair felt his body move on its own, standing up and reaching for the exit. It was almost like a reflex arc. He didn’t have to know for sure the danger in front of him. He’s making a run subconsciously.

Of course, his unwanted guest wouldn’t let the host leave before being at least greeted.

“Sit down, swan.”

With just a command, Alistair was frozen in place. The chainsaw was not even touched, yet he obeyed the order as if his legs were being amputated.

He instinctively looked at his opponent, and he regretted that very moment. When his frightened eyes met the killer’s powerful gaze, the calendar on the wall shifted back to a month ago.

In a burning studio, a wide-eyed Alistair stared at the charged cannon. When it fired, he would be a goner. He knew the “props” cannons were real - He saw the kid ordered them, directly from the laboratory. Those particles weren’t just special effects. They were real, lethal electricity. One shot, and his fast beating heart would stop. It truly was a miracle Drake Mallard survived the attacks.

Alistair had never been more scared in his life. Nowhere to escape in the fire. Nowhere to hide in the rubbles. Running away was futile: There’s no way he could outrun a lightning bolt. He ruined Jim’s career, and Jim was going to ruin his life.

“Jim Starling never cuts!” was what Alistair heard when he rushed to the recording camera. Yes. The legendary actor never allowed any failure. Not by himself. Not by others.

Jim failed to eliminate him the first time, he’s probably finishing the job now.

Franklin took a peek at his back to ensure his patron’s head was still on his neck, and hurried with both orders. The only thing he could do to avoid a murder was to facilitate the conversation between the two artists.

On the other hand, Alistair sat down meekly, hands on his laps, legs hanging straight down. Opposite of him, Jim got himself comfortable on the chair as if on a throne: One hand on the table, another supporting his tilted head. He sat cross-legged, his right leg hanging lazily on his left one. The only thing left to complete his criminal mastermind persona was his signature grin, which showed his sharp, menacing fangs.

But Jim right now was wearing a frown instead.

Alistair wasn’t more comfortable, though. He started fidgeting his fingers, his hand movements speeding up for each second Jim remained silent.

It didn’t take long for the awkward silence to break, thankfully.

“An espresso for you, and a cappuccino for you, good sirs. Enjoy.”

Franklin emerged from behind his counter, delivering the beverages to the two fowls. After his last orders for the night were complete, he returned to his reading, yet keeping an eye on his clients.

Rich aroma soon filled the seats. Jim was the first to take a sip at his cappuccino. Foam covered the tip of his beak when he put down the cup. Alistair dared not to mention it, let alone laugh at it, no matter how silly it looked. He used to be a smug person, saying out what was in his heart without filter. But not when his life was at stake.

Alistair didn’t touch his beverage for half a minute. His hands were still holding themselves tight, his eyes fixated on the duck in front of him.

“Drink it, don’t be shy.” Jim reminded (or ordered, in Alistair’s ears). “I ain’t paying for your cup.” Followed by another sip of his cappuccino.

Alistair slowly held out his shaking hand, putting a finger through the middle of the cup handle, pulled his drink closer to himself and paused. However fragrant the coffee was, Alistair couldn’t afford to let himself get blinded. God knows if he put down the mug after a sip, a chainsaw wouldn’t appear at his neck?

He predicted Jim would be impatient with his hesitation and yell at him. But he was just taking his time, waiting for his partner to get comfortable.

Eventually, Alistair pulled the mug close to his beak, and drank. A rather large portion of his espresso, mainly because he didn’t want to put down the mug. He wouldn’t want to know how he would die.

But he felt no pain. No sensation at all, except for the scalding hotness in his throat...

Alistair literally spat out the liquid back into the mug, choking and holding his burnt throat in pain. Jim, on the other hand, burst into laughter, holding his abdomen while laughing loudly in his dry voice. Hearing his mockery, another hot feeling emerged from his cheeks and ears, which were red with embarrassment.

If a passerby saw that scene, they would probably think it was a carefree reunion of two old friends.

Jim grabbed a glass of iced water from the counter, which Franklin had already prepared after seeing Alistair about to drain the freshly-brewed, steaming hot coffee. Jim pushed the glass of water towards Alistair, who immediately gulped down the whole glass and laid back in relief.

Alistair really did let his guard down for a moment, before again realising who was in front of him when the person spoke.

“Feeling better, Alistair?” Jim tried to comfort, showing a kind smile. No one called Alistair by his first name, not even Jim when they first met. Always “Mr Boorswan” or “Director Boorswan”. Alistair looked up and into those eyes, this time in confusion instead of fear.

“W-what do you...want from me?” Alistair finally spoke. “If you want my life, just...d-drag me out into a dark alley and chop off my head. No need for crocodile tears.”

Alistair lowered his voice, visibly sulking. “You know I can’t defend myself...I won’t defend myself.”

It was Jim’s turn to stay silent.

“I know why you are here. I ruined your only comeback chance. I let that brat destroy the movie. I couldn’t get that geezer to support the production. I...didn’t cast you as the main character. Your main character.” Alistair continued, each sentence making him remember what happened just a month ago.

“So you are here to take revenge on me. This classy British director who knows nothing about children’s TV shows. Who only loves disgusting, gritty psychological thrillers. Who...”

Alistair paused. Then again, Jim probably already knew the truth.

“...who broke his own neck, ruining his own career, dethroning himself from his own industry.”

He felt his heart getting sour. He was just a centimetre from crying.

“I have nothing more to lose.”

“If you want me dead, just do it. No one will be sad for me. I’m just everyone’s laughing stock now.”

He could feel the black feathers around his eyes got wet. The street lights outside the window blurred.

Jim let go of his cup, looking down at his feet. If it wasn’t for the tears, Alistair could see Jim’s eyes were filled with sadness as well.

“Forgiveness.”

Jim uttered.

“I want your forgiveness.”

——————————————————————————————

The store returned to silence, the rumbling of vehicles could be faintly heard across the window.

Franklin took advantage of the silence to interrupt.

“Want me to leave, misters?”

“No, it’s fine. Just don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Jim replied to the barista. If Franklin left, Alistair probably wouldn’t want to be alone with Jim.

Franklin nodded, before focusing himself into reading again, silently listening to the conversation of the two.

Jim turned to face the surprised swan.

“I’m here to apologise, Alistair.”

Of all things, apologising was not one of the reasons Alistair thought Jim was here for him.

“You aren’t the one to ruin the movie. I am.”

Jim put down his originally crossed legs, both hands on the table.

“I was selfish, arrogant, rude...I thought I was and would be the only Darkwing in the world. The one and only Darkwing...the hero on the TV screen in the past, the memory in the heart of those then children in the present.”

“When I knew Darkwing was about to return - from a child, no less - I was excited. Too excited. I was blinded by past fame and former glory, that the excitement channelled into wrath when I knew I was being ‘replaced’. In fact, there wasn’t a thing called ‘replaced’. Darkwing Duck is a character. Anyone can play him. Just because I was the first to have the honour doesn’t mean I have to be the only one. I was just being a grumpy old man on the outside, a spoiled brat in the inside.”

Jim looked up from the table to meet Alistair’s blue eyes, making a sad, regretful smile.

“Not to mention that was your movie in the first place. Your artwork. You have the choice to let anyone past on and receive the torch. You have the right to make Darkwing the person you imagine to be. I should have just stayed in the auditorium and cheered for you.”

“An artist’s integrity really is sacred and inviolable, eh?”

Jim quoted the motto Alistair had lived by, the motto that had brought him to the top of the industry, that had given him the fame he once had.

“I shouldn’t have acted on my own. I shouldn’t have barged into the studio. Hell, I shouldn’t even have met you in the office the first day. You would have done better if you didn’t have me in your life.”

Alistair had been blinking rapidly to hold back tears, but now it was too much for him to bear. Alistair never thought that Jim would say sorry to him. Alistair never expected anyone would say sorry to him. But now, it’s as if someone was there to take the blame with him, standing up for him in front of the crowd. Someone was there to share the pain. Someone was there to be with him.

“I’m sorry, Alistair.”

Jim could see the swan sniffing and whimpering, his eyes twinkling with tears. Just after he said his apology, Alistair burst into tears. Teardrops ran from his mask to his cheeks, dropping onto the now warm espresso. Wails echoed throughout the coffee shop, cries filled the café. Alistair wiped the tears with his purple scarf, but a long accumulated cumulus would had to rain for a while.

Jim moved to the opposite bench, and gave the weeping swan a hug. Jim never knew how to comfort someone - He never would nor had to. Awkward it might be, he really wanted to do something for Alistair.

Surprisingly, Alistair hugged back. He couldn’t care more, whether the duck had any plans in mind, or just wanted to literally stab him in the back. He had been crying alone for so many nights, it felt like a blessing to have someone willing to lend a hand.

At least for one night, Alistair wouldn’t have to cry himself to sleep.

———————————————————————————————

“Okay, I’m good now.”

Alistair sniffed and rubbed his eyes one last time, before gently pushing Jim away. Jim pulled his cup from across the table, and pushed Alistair’s mug towards him. He emptied half of the cup in a single gulp, before returning to his rude self.

Alistair looked at the his mug, seeing his reflection on the liquid surface. He looked even more pathetic after crying, but his heart felt lighter.

Just when he was about to finish his drink, a strong, choking smell replaced the coffee aroma, making Alistair scrunched his face up.

Jim put down his cup to see Alistair staring at him while holding his nose. He stared back with a puzzled expression. “What? Coffee’s gone sour?”

Alistair shook his head, still holding his nose and breath. He pointed at the filthy duck in front of him with his other hand, and managed to whisper without using up much air. “You...stink.”

Jim blinked for a few seconds, and sniffed his body like a stray dog. He then retaliated, shrugging. “Then are you lending me your cologne, pretty boy? It doesn’t seem like you have used it for a month, anyway.”

“And your hair.” Jim continued, pointing at the swan’s supposedly groomed hair. “You look even worse than that Dorkwing boy. Don’t tell me the greatest director of all time can’t even afford a comb?”

“You were saying?” Alistair pointed back at the duck’s feathered whiskers. “You look like you haven’t taken a shower in a month. Don’t tell me the mightiest crime lord of all time can’t even afford a bath?”

Jim sat back, arms crossed. “Yes, I haven’t. Deal with it. It doesn’t seem like you have, either.”

“I...” Alistair paused mid-sentence, not wanting to admit the fact that he hadn’t been taking care of himself. It had been a month, and he already looked as though he was stranded on a deserted island for a year.

Jim sighed, putting a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Listen, you are one of the most talented persons I have met. From the papers to the TV, I have learnt a lot about you. Even my team knows you, Alistair! Some people may mock you for your failure, but many more are sad about it.”

Alistair looked up from the ground, turning to face Jim’s warm smile.

“A lot of people desperately waited for ‘Darkwing: First Darkness’, and despaired when it got cancelled. After all, who wouldn’t like a childhood reminiscence, brought to them by the one and only Alistair Boorswan? You don’t know how many people are sorry for you, how many people are cheering you on, waiting for you to come back.”

“McDuck won’t fund the movie? Glomgold and Waddles will! One wants to beat McDuck, while the other wants to get onto the red carpet. Find that Mallard kid - He is more than willing to cosplay. You’ve got the script done, the movie will be done in a jiffy. Make Darkwing a thing. Make your dream a thing. We are all artists, and artists got to do what they think is art.”

Jim picked up his fedora, rubbing its scratched brim edges. “I won’t be able to join you on set this time, but reserve a seat for me at the premiere. Five seats, to be exact. I’m sure my boys would beg to see it.”

The duck suddenly put his oversized hat onto Alistair’s head, covering his eyes. Alistair protested a bit, before struggling to get the accessory off. He held the worn-out fedora tightly with both hands, about to return it to its owner before being declined.

“Keep it. Consider it a parting gift. For now, at least. We will surely meet again, Alistair.” Jim winked at the swan, who put on the hat after a nod.

“Before then, don’t go dying, m’kay? I’m waiting to kidnap you at the prize-giving ceremony, so don’t prepare too long a speech. Alright?” Jim held out his cup towards Alistair, signalling a “cheers”.

Alistair took a silent deep breath to suppress his surging emotions, and held out his own mug, bumping the duck’s cup.

“Alright. I promise.”

———————————————————————————————

“They’re on the house, celebs.”

Franklin confirmed when Alistair was about to take out his wallet.

“That’s for your patronage.” The owl barista motioned to Alistair with his book, and then shifted to Jim. “And that’s for not making my shop a crime scene.”

Jim snickered, and picked up his chainsaw from the floor. “Thanks, boss.”

“Thank you, pal.” Alistair smiled at Franklin, waving goodbye with his new red fedora before being stopped.

“One thing in return, director.” Alistair looked over his shoulder to face his old friend.

“Make that six seats, capiche?”

———————————————————

(I don’t really have much to say but I want to say something)

-I lost track of when I started writing this. I finished it on July 7, and coincidentally, the local TV broadcasted “The Duck Knight Returns!” (DT17 S02E16) on July 5.

-Also I couldn��t think of an interesting title.

-I really want to see more of Alistair Boorswan (or at least, Jim Starling, please?) in Season 3. I really like Alistair he’s so cute okay?

-sorry edgar wright

(I blame @sheepmouse for my sudden surge of interest in Alistair Boorswan/Jim Starling.)

#alistair boorswan #jim starling #negaduck #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #the duck knight returns #story #short story #storyteller

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my-arlington-academia · 5 years ago

Text

The Sweet Elite characters as tarot cards

Ooooookay! This is something I wanted to do for a while now (totally not because I'm a huge persona nerd) but yeah, my understanding of tarot cards is really basic and limited so don't take this too seriously! I just thought that it would be fun to make.

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Scholar: The Fool/ The Jester/ The Madman (number 0 or XXII but most times without a number)

Obviously, as the main character, Scholar is the one going on a journey. The Fool is often portrayed as wearing ragged clothes and carrying a small bag with their belongings, showing that they're going on an adventure. The card represents freedom, madness, inexperience and chaos.

Here the description is pretty self-explanatory. I think it's easy to see how Scholar fits this card 👌

Alistair: The Sun (number XIX)

Well, another obvious one! The Sun Arcana is often portrayed as a child or children playing in a field of sunflowers under a blazing sun meaning that their innocence will be replaced with knowledge. The card represents optimism in difficult situations, hope, happiness, discovery and accomplishment.

Now we can make the joke that Alistair is literally a ray of sunshine! 😂☀️ (Not that anyone ever doubted it.)

Axel: The Star (number XVII)

I swear I'm not making these puns on purpose! But since Axel is literally a rock *star* the card does fit him...

The star is often portrayed as a woman with one foot on the ground and the other in water (which is apparently a metaphor for the conscious and unconscious mind) and the star shining above is her core essence. The star in itself can allude to a person with great influence, a star shines above it all but is fated to fall one day. Thus, the Star Arcana represents self-confidence, loss, faith and peace.

Claire: The Empress (number III)

This one may seem weird but when I looked more into it, I realized that The Empress Arcana fits Claire a lot!

The Empress is often associated with the goddess Venus in Roman mythology (and Aphrodite in Greek mythology.) The Empress is seated on a throne in a field meaning that she looks after nature, she also wears a crown meaning that she's the one ruling over nature, not only growing it. The Empress Arcana represents motherhood, romance, life and fruitfulness.

Basically, Claire is like a mom rather than a cold-blooded queen. She just looks after the people around her and that's why the Empress fits her.

Ellie: Fortune/ Wheel of Fortune (number X)

Okay, this one was hard to choose. Believe it or not but at first I gave Ellie the Death Arcana. Though it doesn't mean literal Death but rather starting anew I kinda didn't want to give that card to her since her biological parents are dead... thus I went with the Fortune Arcana instead which is surprisingly similar to the Death one but much more light-hearted!

The Fortune Arcana is portrayed as... Well, a Wheel of Fortune. The card represents opportunity, fate, luck and success.

The reason why I chose this card for Ellie is because even though her parents' death was unfortunate, that bad luck brought her good luck too. If her biological parents hadn't died her dads wouldn't have adopted her and from what we've seen so far, she always says that she's really happy with them and that they're great parents. The Fortune Arcana is all about big changes through luck, be it bad or good luck.

In the end, I'm happy that I changed her card to Fortune because while the Death card also means a new start, that new start is achieved through the end of something else. But in the case of the Fortune card, that new start is achieved through a particular event involving good or bad luck. In Ellie's case, I believe it was both.

Karolina: The High Priestess/ The Popess (number II)

This is another odd one, isn't? Karolina sure doesn't look nor sound like a Priestess 😂 But like with Claire I looked more into it and that card does in fact suit her I think.

The Priestess Arcana is most times associated with Pope Joan, a woman who pretended to be a man in order to become the Pope. It is unknown if she really existed but it is said that the church was so ashamed of their "mistake" that they tried to get rid of all records that had Pope Joan in it. Unfortunately, it is said that she was stoned to death because of her "betrayal".

The High Priestess card represents power, passion, wisdom and tenacity.

Karolina is really headstrong and she's the type of person who would be able to do anything to get what she wants. Thus, I believe that the Priestess fits her.

Neha: The Lovers/ The Twins (number VI)

This one took me a while to find but after thinking for a bit I think this card fits Neha after all.

The Lovers card is often portrayed as a naked woman and a naked man standing before eachother. While the card is in most cases seen as a sign of an irreversible relationship, it is said that sometimes the card doesn't even have anything to do with a romantic relationship but rather having to make an important choice which will lead you to two different paths in life. That's why the man and woman in the card are often separated by a crossroad. The two paths can represent the "right" way and the "easy" way, that's why the decision is so hard to make between those two roads.

The Lovers Arcana represents trials to overcome, beauty, failure and love.

I chose this card for Neha because I think that she's the kind of person who has a hard time choosing between her feelings and her logic. Between the right path and the easy path. I may or may not be completely wrong about this one. There's maybe another tarot card that would fit her better but I thought this one really suits her.

Raquel: Justice (number VIII or XI)

This one is easy to see! Raquel was really vocal about her anger and really protective when the whole Nakano scandal happened.

The Justice Arcana is portrayed as a King or a Queen holding a sword and a balance meaning that they will punish whoever breaks the law. The card symbolizes a strict trial of justice. It represents objectivity, rationality, equity and triumph.

Finally a simple one to explain! At first I was considering on giving her the Strength Arcana but I like Justice better for her. It might be a stupid reason but I think that the Justice Arcana sounds cooler than the Strength Arcana 😅

Tadashi: The Emperor (number IV)

I legit wanted to try and give him the Death card somehow to keep up with the trend of "haha, you like bullying Tadashi!!" (Which is not wrong but sshhh!🤫) The Death Arcana just didn't fit him in any way I think. I mean, you could say that when his father was arrested and he broke ties with him it could be seen as a new beginning for him and a big change in his life. However... to apologize for all the time I treated him like shit I decided to give him the Emperor Arcana (which sounds really cool, right?) Also, this card really fits him so I'm happy with how it turned out!

The Emperor is portrayed as... Well, an Emperor (duh) sitting on a throne, he's often associated with Mars, the god of war in Roman mythology. However rather than mindlessly going to war, he's considered to be a guardian who fights for the peace of its people. That's why The Emperor Arcana represents fatherhood, compassion, stability and protection.

But of course, to diss him just a little bit, The Emperor Arcana can also mean that maybe you're trying too hard to look after everything, you have a strong desire to control everything in your life (which is obviously impossible to do) and that mindset may or may not end up with you giving trouble to the people around you.

Yep, it sure sounds like our mister student council president 😂

Tegan: The Hermit (number IX)

Oof, okay. I'm not totally sure how to explain this one but you'll see that this card suits him.

The Hermit card is portrayed as an old man in a dark place or on a cliff carrying a lantern to illuminate his surroundings. The card represents introspection, inner guidance, prudence and wisdom.

Basically, the way I see it is that Tegan is someone who helps others from behind the scenes. He never puts himself on the spotlight however he's a really smart and driven individual. Kind of like a candle in the dark if we want to go into cheesy descriptions 😂 But yeah, he has a great value and he often does his good deeds in the background so he's seen as a support even if his place in the team is really crucial he rarely takes credit for it. (Probably because he does his best to turn the attention away from him 😅)

Tyler: The Moon (number XVIII)

And finally we have Tyler! Oh godddd I love him 😭💗 Anyway, here goes.

The Moon Arcana is portrayed as a wolf and a dog howling at the moon, they symbolize our fears in the conscious and unconscious mind. The card represents inspiration, illusions, fear and creativity.

From that conversation we had with Tyler in chapter 8 I think it's pretty obvious that he has some self-confidence issues. He's scared that he isn't good enough. He's constantly comparing himself to others and doesn't see how amazing he is 😥 But of course there's also the creativity and inspiration part which hints to his talents in the fine arts 👌

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Aaaaand that's a wrap! This actually took me longer than I expected but I'm happy I did it! It makes me feel like I was productive today even though I didn't finish my homework... yet.

#sweet elite #se #main 10 #tarot cards #arcana #headcanons #does this count as headcanons?#idk tbh

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ma-sulevin · 4 years ago

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1, 3, 5, 7, 15, and A-E for Ophelia/Alistair and/or Emma/Joel please 💖

1. Who do the kids enjoy playing with the most?

Alistair/Ophelia: There’s nothing Elodie likes more than playing Darkspawns and Warden with Alistair. They take turns chasing each other around and terrorizing everyone who happens to cross their path.

Joel/Emma: Emma has more energy for shenanigans, so they probably drift more toward playing with her, at least when they’re little. As they get a little older though, they can do more stuff with Joel and he’s able to pass down his hobbies to them.

3. Who does the baby follow around more?

Alistair/Ophelia: Elodie follows her papa around as much as possible. It’s all fun and games until foreign delegations are interrupted by baby babble.

Joel/Emma: They trail after Joel like little ducklings until he swings them up on his shoulders.

5. Who’s constantly up checking on the baby in the middle of the night (even when the baby is sound asleep)?

Alistair/Ophelia: They both do for different reasons. Alistair because he never thought he’d be able to have a family, ever, and the fact that he was given this little miracle? He never, ever gets tired of watching her sleep, even when the night nurse wants him to go away. Ophelia checks on her a lot because it took them a very long time to have her because of the taint, and she loves Elodie so much... but she worries, too.

Joel/Emma: Joel checks in a lot more than Emma does. He sleeps worse than her, and after Sarah... it’s nice to be reminded that their little ones are okay. (In a no-outbreak au, Emma checks in more, but Joel’s still attentive)

7. Who trails behind the baby to make sure they don’t fall? (And then has to console them once they inevitably do.)

Alistair/Ophelia: They both do, but I think Alistair is more worried about accidents.

Joel/Emma: Emma for sure. Joel’s done this before so he’s less worried.

15. Who is better at comforting the kids when they’re scared?

Alistair/Ophelia: They’re both good at it, but Alistair is better at getting Elodie laughing afterward.

Joel/Emma: Emma’s good at distracting them, and Joel’s good at providing a calming, solid presence.

A. Who do they think their child takes after? In what ways do they remind them of each other?

Alistair/Ophelia: Elodie strongly favors Alistair, which is particularly good her position in court later, especially after how long it took her to be born, especially after the way Cailan was never able to produce an heir. Elodie is funny like Alistair, always ready to crack a joke, but she’s also stubborn to the core like Ophelia.

Joel/Emma: It’s easy to see Emma in their kids, but if you look a little closer... Jack has the same eyes and smile, and the same strong backbone. Charlie has her mother’s singing voice, but her dad’s eye for details.

B. What was their first night as new parents like?

Alistair/Ophelia: They kicked out the nanny and wetnurse and insisted on being alone. Ophelia was tired and in pain still, so she drifted in and out of sleep, and Alistair just sat up all night marveling at this little baby. When Elodie woke her mother up crying but settled down once she heard Ophelia’s voice, both her parents cried.

Joel/Emma: Emma kept crying because she was exhausted and overwhelmed and so happy, and Joel kept falling asleep sitting up in his armchair. They worked it out.

C. Did their relationship change once they became parents? How?

Alistair/Ophelia: This was complicated by the fact that Alistair was hearing the false Calling the whole time, but they really pulled together tight to protect their little family unit. They were both terrified for the first six months or so that something bad would happen, and Alistair really wanted to soak up as much time with his girls as he could.

Joel/Emma: It was definitely a harder adjustment than Emma was prepared for, and there are times when she’s afraid things aren’t going to get better. (This is especially true in canon because they’re both older and Joel is holding so many secrets.) She leans on the girl gang a lot for support and advice, and when Jack starts sleeping better through the night, Emma and Joel start sleeping better through the night, and they start working better together as a team too. It’s just an adjustment period and then they’re back to being their disgustingly in love selves.

D. What new traditions do they start as a family?

Alistair/Ophelia: Literally every tradition they come up with is one they had to start. Alistair was barely raised by anyone, and Ophelia spent most of her time with nannies. Neither of them wanted that for their kids, so they spend a lot more time with Elodie than the rest of the court expects them to. I think their biggest tradition is just... having a quiet Satinalia celebration, just the three of them, every single year before the bigger court celebrations.

Joel/Emma: Oh boy. I think their biggest tradition is how they always have music in their home. It’s not the same as the way they were raised -- Emma’s childhood home mostly just had Jesusy music going all the time, but she and Joel are always singing and playing instruments together. If they’re too busy for that, records are playing.

E. Are they honest with their children? Are there certain things they try to shield from them?

Alistair/Ophelia: Alistair is way more likely than Ophelia to shield things from Elodie. He just wants her to have a happy childhood, and he doesn’t want her to know about the gritty details of things. Ophelia knows it’s important that Elodie be prepared for life, though, so they have a lot of honest conversations as Elodie grows up.

Joel/Emma: There’s no room for shielding the truth from kids in canon. They have to be very clear about why it’s dangerous to leave the walls and what they need to do to stay safe. The kids grow up with a lot of respect for that. In no-outbreak... there’s more room to let kids be kids, but they’re still pretty no-nonsense about stuff.

#oc: emma nguyen #x: the trouble with wanting #oc: ophelia cousland #geronimo-11

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mittensmorgul · 5 years ago

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So. The lamp. As in, a sexy lamp. Like that one test. And wouldn't that just be a bibro early seasons' manly macho man ideal of heterostraight Dean (so, like, Chuck's), getting "intimate" with a disposable female eyecandy. But then he just, waves it goodbye. Good riddance, lamp. I have stuff to do, places to tapdance on. This was obviously supposed to be a crack ask but it sorta kinda almost holds water?? I'm???

Lol... but seriously... I had this exact thought... but like... haven’t said it out loud because, first off, was that lamp sexy? It wasn’t this lamp:

but it WAS dancing... Dean made it sexy by his interaction with it, I guess we could say.

Supernatural has a long-standing cracky history of Lamp Abuse, and a lot of folks immediately picked it up in that respect. I mean, I have a tag for this going back to May 2015:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/tagged/this%20is%20a%20lamp%20abuse%20awareness%20blog/chrono

So I didn’t mention the Sexy Lamp Test, because heck... SPN also has a long history of Female Character Issues, and making the comparison to actual abused lamps, even in a joking way, just struck me as... an uncomfortable subject... An Actual Lamp got treated with respect before some of the female characters SPN has treated horrifically. And I don’t think that’s the message this scene was attempting to convey.

For reference purposes, as I’m typing this, I’ve got 4.16 on in the background, and Alistair is singing Dancing Cheek to Cheek, and I’m feeling really grateful they didn’t pick THAT song for Dean’s dream sequence... okay moving on from that >.>

For people who don’t know what we’re talking about, please read the Fanlore page on what is meant by the Sexy Lamp Test:

https://fanlore.org/wiki/Sexy_Lamp_Test

It’s similar to the Bechdel-Wallace test (that at least two named female character have a conversation that isn’t about a man), but again, both of these “tests” are also specifically regarding the representation of women in media. When fandom also began ascribing meaning to Dean’s dance with the lamp, suggesting the lamp he actaully wanted to dance with was Cas... I began to rethink this. Or at least to rethink how I could discuss this.

Andrew Dabb really likes using one scene to say or suggest multiple things. The more references or parallels he can pack into a single thing, the happier he is. I mean, he brought us Jack, after all, who has served as a narrative mirror focal point for no less than six other characters. It’s... his favorite thing, I think. :’D

So, bearing that in mind, and understanding that I am NOT suggesting that any of those other interpretations are wrong, because I completely agree with them, too, and argue that all of these interpretations can be applied to the same scene at the same time here without conflicting, and that this is legitimately a valid interpretation of Dean’s Lamp Dance as well, please have a loose definition of the Sexy Lamp Test:

If you can take out a female character and replace her with a sexy lamp without changing anything else about the story, then you’ve failed.

I don’t know if there’s a Queer Content Sexy Lamp Test, but considering this phenomenon of sequestering queer content to easy to edit out quarantine zones, the fact that major media outlets are literally doing the sexy lamp to LGBTQ+ characters, relationships, etc, and literally leaving them on the cutting room floor entirely... well... that is something I find even more disturbing than the Sexy Lamp. But that’s a conversation for another post, and for someone with a more direct knowledge of this phenomenon in media in general. I’m just here to talk about one dude tap dancing with a lamp in an anesthesia-induced dream sequence, not the whole of the media industry...

The dance sequence was lampshaded (lol... I love discussing this because I get to be punny without actually even making a pun... this is literally what they did) Dean’s dance with his lamp partner as romantic, by tying it directly to his observation of and comments on Bess and Garth’s explicitly romantically coded dance at the end of the episode.

Is this a commentary on Dean’s past relationships? He sure has had a lot of encounters with women who could’ve just as easily been replaced by sexy lamps. Characters we don’t even have names for, sometimes, or whose only lines were directly about flirtation or innuendo, or even as the unwitting objects of Dean’s innuendo. And while the show may have been making a commentary about that, I don’t think that was the main intent of him dancing with a lamp, directly connected with a sense of longing for a real dance partner (irrespective of gender... a lamp is inanimate, and even in this context serves as a stand-in for a person. Technically, in this test, the person is a female character, but lamps-- at least in English-- don’t have an inherent gender).

It’s also been a while since Dean’s “danced with a lamp” in that respect. He’s “kissed that dance goodbye” a while ago. And had even been struggling with it going back as far as s9, you know? He wants a relationship, but something truly meaningful, and not just occasional dances with random lamps.

They tied this to Garth and Bess, who found something truly special together. They found a way to live their best lives, and they’re both happy together. They’re... metaphorically on top of the world, like Dean dancing on the map table at the end of his scene. All Dean needs is a real dance partner who’s willing to learn the steps with him. Much as he might know who he’d like that to be, Dean himself still doesn’t know if that partner is willing to dance with him...

(I’m talking about Cas... obviously... the guy who was literally introduced to the narrative in a non-human form of screeching sound and light that shattered glass and had Dean diving for cover and hiding his face, whose original form is a “wavelength of celestial intent.” Who’s since rejected that Celestial Intent and truly come to identify with Humanity when confronted by the Divine. Who’s now had an entire decade-plus-long character arc of un-lamp-ifying himself in the story, in every possible interpretation of that phrase, metaphorical and literal.)

Dean’s moved beyond wanting to just dance with passing lamps. But he still isn’t sure the dance partner he’s longing for even wants to learn how to dance, you know? But this episode accomplished one thing in that regard. Dean actively knows what he wants. We now have to wait and see if he works up the nerve to ask for it...

#spn 15.10 #spn s15 spoilers #destiel #the scheherazade of supernatural #lol still dancing around it but heck hanging lampshades all over the place...#Anonymous

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trulycertain · 5 years ago

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Just wanted to weigh in (belatedly) on your DA2 pt and say I started in the same boat. Played immediately after DA:O (like, 3 days?) and felt like it was trying too hard to be what O had achieved. Not as funny or compelling. But, like everyone else has said- it really is more relationship driven, and if you try to appreciate it as Origins, it really does feel lacking, doesn’t it? Love everything you’re sharing to this point on character analysis and broader POV on familial expectation 1/?

Oh, and also, my first pt I completely skipped Fenris, too. I was aiming to get enough gold to go on the expedition and by the time his quest came around I was like, “Nah, I’m good. I don’t need to go do this umpteenth side job.” See ya! And thus had a gap in my loading party screen the whole game XDDDD. Feel free to take a phone pic of your Hawke and share it with us if you’d like :D Also you should definitely consider doing some DA2 art :D

Thank you! I’m so glad you’re liking the rambling. It’s been an interesting experiment.

Oh, you too had the Mysterious Gap? *laugh* I did a lot of squinting and head-tilting my first playthrough, wondering if it was just my imagination or weird design.

I would definitely say that trying to make it fit my image of Origins meant it was doomed for me. It has its own charms, narrative and mechanics-wise. I will always be fond of it for introducing melee-mages as a thing.

One of the things I really enjoy in DA2 that isn’t explored nearly as much in Origins or Inquisition is how the companions in DA2 have been through A Lot, and the narrative is often quite unflinching about that. Trauma isn’t just portrayed as an angsty backstory you can infodump about and then go back to laughing with friends. Sure, they go for drinks and they make roots and they’re all badasses and a lot of them have a great sense of humour, but... they’re all bitter, and most importantly, they’re all allowed to be, which is not something I see in this genre much. (I need to make a separate post about that sometime.) They’re... difficult, at times, and obviously in pain, and not condemned for that.

I’d also forgotten how much I loved Anders - I really do, and this is going to hurt, and I’m still angry about how fandom treated Jennifer Hepler. I like healers and hurting, sarcastic characters (who knew?). And blonds. *cough* Do I think some of the mental illness metaphor is a tad heavyhanded and tasteless? Oh, fuck yes, that’s never been something I was comfortable with. Do I like him as a character? Yes.

Oh, also Fenris is not the way I thought he’d be at all, and he’s a lot more fun than I expected. I didn’t expect to like him, but I wanted to keep an open mind, and I’m warming fast. (And Emery’s voicing decisions with him are not what I expected, either. I really like that the guy who’s usually hired as muscle and spent years as a bodyguard has fancy enunciation, clearly got sick of hiding his intelligence when he was captive and refuses to do it anymore, and chooses his words so carefully. And then comes out with some of the most ridiculous jokes, even moreso than Anders - still utterly deadpan. “Smell the oppression,” dear god, man. Also that his voice is about six foot four and he’s about five-ten.)

Also, finally getting to high approval with Isabela and Fenris and taking them around has been delightful. I absolutely understand why some people find their banters uncomfortable, and I might yet run into something that changes my mind - Isabela is unrepentantly pervy about some of the most inappropriate things - but it’s shown that she’ll back off if she’s asked to - see Varric’s objectification banter - and he seems to find her lack of pity refreshing and enjoyable. I love how she can almost always make him laugh, and how much they genuinely seem to enjoy each other’s company. Neither of them wants to be pitied for the pain in their pasts, and they both value freedom in very different ways. She’s also one of the few companions who he actually reaches out to, when he gets prickly. When they’re talking about the issue of mage freedom, she says, quite earnestly, “Let’s not fight,” and it’s him who makes a tentative quip about her guessing the colour of his underwear again and lets her change the subject. It’s an unusual, weirdly sweet moment. Despite making some decisions that may be selfish, Isabela is one of the most matter-of-factly kind, conciliatory companions in DA2, and that is an unexpected delight. And he’s one of the few companions who pays that back in spades (other than Varric and sometimes Anders).

On the other hand, I don’t miss the grimdarkness. You’re right, DA2 is less funny than DAO - and that’s because it’s less often allowed to be. They definitely had a tone they were going for, and sometimes that falls into Narm Charm with just how grim it is. Sometimes it feels like companions’ anger with each other is a tad arbitrary and inserted for the sake of Conflict(TM). And also, while I know for a fact he can do serious, stoic writing very well, there’s something tragic about having David Gaider in your team and not letting him go full-snark with his characters, even if he was head writer and I’m sure that was his tonal choice. I miss the “snarky and sometimes prickly but so often compassionate and rarely intentionally cruel unless you poke ’em” feel he brings that’s one of my favourite things about Dragon Age (Zevran, Alistair, Cassandra, Dorian). Sheryl Chee is pretty great at that, too. Inquisition, I felt, got the balance about perfect, and was noticeably lighter and sweeter than Origins or, especially, 2.

And I would rather not have more quests with murdered women as a background narrative event. (At least in The Witcher, which is not immune to this, it became a full-on investigation and examination of the tropes rather than just a mood-setter that would be something to beat the protag round the head with later.)

It was a great delight to me when I was wandering round the Deep Roads, ominous music and all, and got the Varric and Fenris, “What do you do in that big mansion all day?” / “I dance” banter. Because God, I needed that. (One of my favourite moments in Origins was exploring the seemingly endless, dark Deep Roads, and getting into a chat with Leliana about silk shoes by accident. That was when it truly felt like she and my Warden were friends.) I feel like Inquisition has a better balance that way; it has so many wonderful, absolutely brutal moments (I still find the “sometimes love isn’t enough” banter bloody hard to listen to), and so many wonderful palate-cleansers (arse-arrows).

This is actually one of the few games my mid-good PC can run! Pre-2013 there’s a half-decent chance. I doubt I could run Inquisition well. So here’s some Guin:

Kirkwall: A Summary.

And yes, I may... already be doodling. *cough*

#tru plays dragon age 2 #asks #me #replies #guin hawke #gerundsandcoffee

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heniareth · 3 years ago

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For the OC ask meme: What does your character like in other people?, What was your OC's favorite toy/item as a child?, Under what circumstances do they find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?, How is their sense of humor? Do they have one?, In what situation was your OC the most calm they’ve ever been?, What is your favorite thing about your OC? for your Astala :) I chose one from every category. I hope that's alright. Don't feel pressed to answer all of them if it's too much :)

Heyy!! Thank you so much for the ask, this'll be fun XD Until I play the other games, it's once again time to talk about Astala Tabris.

What does your character like in other people?

On the top of the list is definitely loyalty. There's a special place in Astala's heart for loyal and dedicated people, people she can trust and rely on (almost) no matter what.

Apart from that, she likes people who are compassionate, people who are able to smile in the face of danger, people who can take a joke and fire one right back, and people who are truthful to who they are and stand up for it. If we're talking about looks, she tends to notice smiles. Somebody with a bright smile will almost never not be beautiful to her.

What was your OC’s favorite toy/item as a child?

She had a stuffed mabari that I’ve talked about here (and you’ve probably already read it, so I’m not going to repeat it). But that was her favorit toy, so there’s still a favourite item left XD

On one occasion her mother brought home a very nice pair of red boots for little Astala. They had some spots and smelled strongly of salt and algae, but they were red and warm and to die for. She was only ever allowed to wear them inside the alienage, never when they went to the market or the docks or any other place frequented by humans. Astala understood that her boots were a secret to be kept. She assumed that they’d be taken away from her if the humans saw her running around with something so nice. This made the boots all the more special, like her family’s own little rebellion. The real reason for hiding the boots, of course, was to avoid raising suspicions as to her mother’s illegal dealings. Astala wore them proudly until she outgrew them, at which point they passed on to the kid of a friend of her father’s.

Under what circumstances do they find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?

For Astala, killing is acceptable under the following circumstances: the person is actively attacking her and/or a friend and/or somebody who’s defenseless; they don’t back down or flee when given the chance to; and/or they have done something terrible to her or to a loved one. In this last case, the word isn’t exactly “it’s acceptable” for her and more “they deserved it”. Vaughan Urien, who’s the bad guy in the city elf’s backstory, is somebody Astala has killed (partly) out of vengeance. If a person surrenders, however, or if she beats them, she’ll almost always spare them. There are a few exceptions to this, one of them being if the person in question is a parent, which... complicates the matter very much. I’m very much looking forward to what she’ll do with Loghain. On one hand, he’s made a pact with slavers and allowed them to take her people to fund his war. On the other hand, he’s Anora’s father, Anora is right there... and he has surrendered. I really don’t know what will win in this case, her outrage over the injustice done to her people or the memory of how it felt losing her mother.

How is their sense of humor? Do they have one?

She definitely has one, although I don’t quite know how to describe it. So I’m just going to show you a bit:

"Why don't we take a moment to introduce ourselves properly? I'll start." Astala sat down cross-legged, straightened her back and affixed a smile to her face. "Hi! I'm Astala Tabris. I come from the Denerim Alienage and I've been a Grey Warden for a grand total of… For how long was I out again?"

"A night and a day," the witch, Morrigan, answered.

"I've been a Grey Warden for four days, then. I like flowers and plum-filled cakes with milk and honey, and I dislike itchy clothing and working at taverns. Alistair? Your turn." She gave him a pointed look over her smile.

Alistair pulled a face. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do," Astala nodded emphatically. "What else are you gonna bond over if not my terrific style of leadership?"

Alistair sighed, but shifted into a more upright position. "Right. I'm Alistair. I've been a Grey Warden for a year and a bit. I was trained as a templar before that."

"Wonderful,” Astala said, cheerful smile still plastered on her face. “Likes and dislikes?"

"Cheese and… and darkspawn? What do you want me to say?" Alistair threw the stick he had been breaking to tiny pieces into the campfire. "Where did you get this 'bonding activity' from anyway?"

Astala’s smile grew into a grin. "Why, the Chantry-run education program for us poor alienage kids, of course.”

That’s her sense of humor. It probably carries a good dose of mischief and general tomfoolery. She likes to mess around.

In what situation was your OC the most calm they’ve ever been?

At first, I was thinking about this in terms of “in what stressful situation was your OC the most calm”. And while Astala may appear calm outwardly, it’s a mask nine times out of ten.

The most calm she’s ever been is probably a few days after defeating the Archdemon. She’s still in that kind of post-battle haze where she wants to do nothing but lie around, maybe sleep for a while, maybe eat something, and this time she actually doesn’t have to do anything but lie around (Wynne expicitly told her so). The smoke clouds over Denerim have finally vanished, she’s home, her family is safe, her companions are alive and unharmed or have been healed, the Blight is over, Zevran is there... The future is a mystery and she doesn’t know what she’ll do next with her life, but that can wait. Right now, she has a chance to rest, and she grabs it with both hands.

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

I’m very attached with her reluctance to leave anybody behind and her fear of death. It’s something I can relate to and they make for good storytelling; at one point she’ll have to decide which of the two she’d rather do >:) . I also recently decided that if she’d ever have a symbol associated to her, it’s the sea and particularly the waves crashing against a rocky cliff, tunneling through the stone and dragging gravel in and out of the tunnels in an ever-thundering cacophony of sounds. The waves just have something relentless and unstoppable about them, and they smooth out even the hardest and roughest stone. I haven’t worked out yet if Astala is the stone or the waves; probably a bit of both. But I like this piece of symbolism.

---

Thank you so much for the ask!! These questions really are a ton of fun (and I got to share some writing! Yey! :D). It’s also amazing how much they can help to flesh out characters, or to reveal things that I knew but didn’t know I knew, if that makes sense. Anyways, I had a lot of fun with this and I hope you had fun reading it as well ^^

#astala tabris #warden tabris #dao #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age: origins #da:o #da: o #da: origins #the warden #hero of ferelden #the hero of ferelden #ask game #for fun #my ocs

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123dragonage · 4 years ago

Text

Angelica Cousland.

Full Name:

Angelica Cousland

Nickname/Alias:

Ange, Angel, Elica, Cousland, Lady, My lady, My lady Cousland.

Meaning:

Variant spelling of Anglo-Saxon unisex Aglæca, meaning both "demon, monster, fiend," and "hero, warrior."

Title:

Cousland, My lady, My lady Cousland, Lady. Dìonadair fir is boireannaich - Defender of men and woman.

Pet Name:

sònraich - Ange. Aingeal - Angel. Dìonadair - Defender.

Gender:

Female.

Gender Role:

More Male than Female.

Class:

Warrior - Big Sword.

Orientation:

Straight.

Real Age:

20.

Age Appearance:

18.

Birthday:

May 22.

Birthplace:

Highever Castle.

Zodiac Sign:

Gemini.

Love Interest:

Alistair Theirin.

Immediate Family:

Father:

Bryce Cousland.

Mother:

Eleanor Mac Eanraig.

Brother:

Fergus Cousland

Sister in law:

Oriana.

Nephew:

Oren Cousland

Ethnicity:

Alamarri and a Fereldan.

Facial Type:

Heart.

Eye Colour:

Baby blue, with a forest green ring around it.

Hair Colour:

Black.

Hairstyle:

Angelica has gained her father's ruly side of her hair, while it isn't there now because of age he previously had very curly hair. Though not black, she gained his style of hair with her thick curly waves framing her face. She had it up in a tight bun with a few curls falling in front of her face, but casually it is left down because she is comfortable with it on cool days.

Makeup:

Since her look has a strong dark edge to it. Angelica viewed herself as a tomboy, not a girly woman who enjoyed pink. Red has always been something she enjoyed, usually, her eyeshadow is dark underlines with some dark grey and light sliver blended in. On good occasion, her lips were painted red, bright red or darkened red depending on the festivities. If it was normal however, she painted them like her skin and made sure it was a fairly faint color of red.

Appearance:

Body Type:

Fit - Strong built, but still curvy.

Build:

Her strong build fits the heavy swords so she has some muscles to her stomach and arms, her legs too.

Distinguishing Features:

Her hair and eyes.

Posture:

Stiff, lady-like.

Scent:

Lavender and different types of fruit.

Heroes:

Alistair, in childhood. (Find out.).

Pets/Familiars:

Hawke - Gin.

Wardrobe examples:

F-o-r-m-a-l. O-u-t-f-i-t-s. B-a-l-l-r-o-o-m. O-u-t-f-i-t-s. F-i-g-h-t-i-n-g. O-u-t-f-i-t-s. C-a-s-u-a-l O-u-t-f-i-t-s. D-a-n-c-i-n-g. O-u-t-f-i-t-s. N-i-g-h-t w-e-a-r.

Equipment/Weapons:

Cousland sword.

Third class sword.

Second class sword.

First class sword.

----------------------

Cousland Shield.

Accessories:

-Anklet - from

Rivain

woman. -Hair pin - Red mist

-Oren's handmade

rose bracelet.

-Mother's wedding ring.

-Stashed

scrunchy.

-Mother's handmade circlet.

-Mother's crystal comb.

-Another crystal, never worn.

-Rose

collection.

-Heirloom brooch.

-Hidden circlet from her traveling days.

-The personal ring she always wore.

-Set of earrings usually hidden with her hair. On one side, the right.

-another pair of dangling earrings. The left side.

-Locket with the picture of the family in it.

Element:

Wind or earth.

(Undecided.)

Biggest Failure:

Leaving her family to tour the world before she settled down to be married. When she was young her father found her to be too free among them, but she couldn't bring herself to deny the enjoyment of life. Leaving them a note she left at the age of sixteen and came back when she was twenty-one before their deaths came around.

Secrets:

Has a strong dislike for bugs, she came off as a strong woman with her choice of class. Obviously, this was something she tried to keep to herself.

Hobbies/Interests:

-Flamenco Dancing. -Belly Dancing. -Roman Havasi. -Russian Romani Dance. -A little singing. -Playing the lute. -Jewel collecting. -Making handmade jewellery and accessories like her nephew did. -Poetry reading. -Basic cooking.

Skills/Talents:

-Hand to hand chores from childhood. -Cooking, making anything basic delicous. -Giving out advise for those that need it. -Tending to children and animals. -Giving out speeches. -Acting casual and then back to her formal self. -Dancing and singing. -Playing the lute and flute. -Hidden her real feelings about things. -Acting. -Jewellery collecting. -Poetry making.

Likes:

-Music, -Dancing, -Being free, -Remembering the good times she had with her family and not the bad. -Large weapons, -Singing a little, -Poetry, -Reading, -Writing poetry, -Jewels. -Hand making jewellery, -Cooking, -Meeting people, -Having a smile on during tough times. -Camping out. -Making fun of nobles. -Fencing/duelling between nobles. -Hard work.

Dislikes:

-Anyone not willing to have some fun, or party, so very serious people are not well liked by her. -Lazy people. -Seeing how many nobles are just that in title and not noble at all. Angelica believed more commoners are nobles. -Anyone hating music, period. If you hate it she'll give out a lecture and then question how you can hate it. -Ballroom dancing, at times. -Someone making fun of her dances. -Her father being put down from his death bed or her mother. -Howe - more like despises. -Burnt food. -Being locked in a place with walls or anything like a wall around her. -Jewels being crushed to be sold. -Bad poetry. -Her acting not working around people.

Pet Peeves:

-Laziness. -Being around people too serious. -Horrible poetry. -Being forced to talk about things she plans to keep hidden.

-Children being taught to fight at a very young age.

-Parents yelling at there children.

-Children abuse.

-Animal abuse.

-Girly girls complaining too much.

Personality:

Angelica has always been adaptable, easygoing, and flexible by nature. She is always willing to try new things at least once in life. While she might go along with any plans there is always small doubts in her head that she will voice just in case, by then she is always prepared for change whether it is beneficial for everyone or not. Due to her carefree nature she knows how to fit herself in any group and situation. This heir is considered very sociable and she learned to enjoy parties. In the past staying home was very boring for her, Rather she would like to be out and about learning new things. Besides always have interesting things to say and can easily strike up conversations with strangers. Angelica is known as the popular girl of the group and can be a soft touch when talking to people. Learning to laugh was the best thing in the world, with a sharp wit and the possess of an extremely dry and sarcastic sense of humour; the usual jokes and quick-witted response may fly right over the heads of some. The individuals who can actually keep up with her train of thought and intelligence often find it hilarious. Being a charmer as her mind works very fast and draws information from eclectic resources. This gives her many opportunities to deliver a quick-witted slap and ironical responses. The one thing Angelica is proud of is her funny gigs, these are often the camps entertainment or leading toward it. The group will end up depressed during there thoughtful state and stressed state of mind. If that isn't all she is considered enthusiastic and full of life and always crave for accomplishing new and interesting things. However,

Angelica's enthusiasm is infectious at times. She is

always a little ahead of others, her mind is always working fast and she shares her thoughts with the people around her at the time. As a cousland she highly smart and intelligent. Not everything is horrible, at least there is always a chance of her saying interesting things. Angelica is shockingly a person who will have a book in your hand or involved in an activity which gives you information and updates her knowledge.

She can instantaneously see the 360-degree picture of any situation before making decisions for the next move. Mostly she wins in arguments and debates.

She considers herself the most versatile person. capable of handling multiple things at a time and excel in each. Plus multi-tasking quality helps her indulge in many things and balance between them all. After a while people learn her interest vary due to keenness and curiosity of getting knowledge and learning new things.

However, she gets bored easily. Angelica has proven that you don't have to be a rogue, to be a master of manipulating things in order to make others follow your shoes.

Angelica is often anxious and nervous during certain major events of life like moving or changing careers and marriage and unable to make the right decision. She doesn't take life seriously and act very childish at times. However, this is mostly a face. She also tends to get overly anxious about any important event of her life. Her energies are imbalanced and she keeps her stress and emotions inside of herself which makes her feel anxious.

Symbol:

Cousland Crest.

Vice:

Jealousy.

Virtue:

Hope.

Major Events.

Age 0-2 (Infancy):

The Cousland family were equally happy with there son, Fergus. However every parent wants a girl and boy in there life. On the other hand her brother also wanted to have a little sister he could protect himself. Boys, thinking that ever girl in there life is going to need someone to protect 'them'. Hardly, On the season of the blooming roses a young girl was born when both Bryce and Eleanor tried to relax on vacation in Redcliffe, it was the one place they could trust anyone in during there moments of depression. A tiny baby, was born at midnight with the loudest cry they had ever heard. Everyone just knew she was going to be a spoiled little girl when she grew into a woman - Some might say that the father was a little scared of what might come of it. Ange; Also known as Angelica was very loud, cried constantly for there attention and when she didn't get her way she cried. At times her brother would be confused over her, the emotional stress the child gave them became hard fast. However, no one could deny that her smile wasn't something they wouldn't give to miss if they didn't cheer baby Angelica up, she grew well. Stayed by her mothers side or her brother and played with Fergus and the kings son at the time.

Ages 3-9 (Childhood):

When she came to the age of around three her curiosity got the best of her a lot. Mostly in the sword fighting and gems, her mother would look at form any merchant offering his wares. Her eyes would sparkle and her mouth would be making 'Ohhh!' sounds without hiding it from her mother like any other girl would do she became rather into her mother's handmade jewels and watched her days on end. It was possible she enjoyed pretty things, or maybe she just wondered what she was doing with them at the time - Either way she learned something that wouldn't leave her. At the age of four, she followed her father around the house and grow more attached. He did everything with her when he could. As a child, she cried whenever he had to leave her at home, and sat on his lap whenever he read to her. Then the age of five made her start her dancing and singing, randomly picking dances during the parties or fair and singing along with tunes when her mother would sing or something else. When trouble with the king brought his son around she spent time watching them fight battles, asking questions to her father from six to nine of age, so much that she promised to be just like her mother and father. The parents were both worried and touched.

Ages 10-16 (Teens):

During the age of ten, Angelica became so interested in the battles that she begged her father to teach her some basics or at least train her to get stronger to handle things. Bryce said no, repeatedly, and her mother tried to soothe her tears and annoyance over this. The issue was that she was a lady, but her mother was the battle maiden herself. Is it so bad she wanted to learn to do something she was into? Safe to say, the silent treatment and refusing to spend time with him was the key to her success when she turned eleven he gave into her hard chores for two years and Angelica was more than happy to do that. So, for a few years, she spent time with nan and did basic cooking, preparation and did any stocking for her and nan was rather evil with that cane so whenever she slacked it was fixed. Not badly or harsh in any sense, but still. Then she helped her mother with her tea parties, decorating, maid work and finally she did basic training with her brother and father with her small body that was limited. Still, getting used to it was hard for those two years. So, at the age of fourteen, she grew up enough to do her lessons of being noble and began learning fencing for her dueling lessons. She was quick and listened intensely, light swords were simple to use, however, her father noted on her lack of enthusiasm and took her to his study one day. The issue was everything she did make her zoom out. The fast dueling and mocking other nobles, she could enjoy that and all. However, she had little interest on taking it full time - That was when her father got some idea of what she could do, the next day she was taken to the training area in the courtyard when the men were fighting each other. The two spent time watching them until Angelica asked him more about the big sword; there was also sword and shield, but that seemed boring to herself as well and she preferred the most challenging one there. Against his better judgement, he taught her harder things to build up the muscle she needed to weigh or move efficiently while holding such a sword. Each day, Bryce witnessed her sweating on the field and grinning when they pushed her down to after she won a fight. She continued this until she mastered the sword at the age of sixteen.

Ages 16- 21 (Adulthood):

Sixteen of age and she formed into a good warrior, with a few extra problems along with it. Usually at this time girls are rather rebellious and she was no different from them she guessed, although. She did think it was her forming out her own path so she could grow the way she wanted. Her father refused to see her as a woman and it was driving her insane, no matter what reason he had for it. Enough was enough, right? When she had her sixteenth birthday she came to her mother and told her the trouble she was having with her father. Eleanor might seem strict, but she went through the same thing with his protective nature and jealousy, even feared her little girl would gain it due to her looks going to his family at the time. While her mother was on his side.... Or tried to be to keep the peace. Angelica knew she could get him to see her way, for the moment at least. It was the afternoon she decided to gather the family for a announcement with her mother encouraging her to speak up. Her eyes went to Fergus, he grinned and nodded his head - Along with his family who grew to stick to her during there stay with them. Right. It was just Bryce Cousland, her father. No big deal, right? That night was one of the emotional nights she had ever had with her family, Oren, her nephew cried for her to stay and her father fumed at her for thinking of leaving. However, in her eyes they didn't need her when they had Fergus and if anything happened it would be because she was caught off guard. Her brother knew she was good at fighting and so did her father. Eventually, she got fed up and told him enough is enough, claiming she was grown into a teenager at least and should take her own time to grow, not have him hover. The room grew silent and everyone looked worried, glancing between Angelica and Bryce who stared at her with wide eyes, and finally clenched teeth and his shocked expression faded. It was close enough to saying she hated him. Though it could have been a over reaction on his part, Angelica never looked back on the day and got ready to leave. He never came to see her off with her mother, but Eleanor claimed its hard to see his little girl go.

Trivia:

-Her father and herself grew distant when she left.She never got the chance to say she was sorry, or even try and talk to him before finding them dead on the floor. -She has a known love for jewels and handmade things.Maybe it was just in memory of her nephew.

-Learned to smile no matter the cost. Angelica is also known to act.Even though things seem dire, she isn't going to show it unless someone brings it up.

-The Cousland worked around hard work when she was a little girl. Her father thought of her as his darling girl, which made it rather hard to join in with the hard work. However, being his favourite also made it wonderful considering her 'Puppy Dog' eyes worked wonders on him. She worked through normal chores with her Nan and was watched over rather well with her siblings. -Angelica is good with light weight swords, but she found them too easy for her and unlike her mother she followed the path of a broad sword instead. She might be a little girl, but smashing insolent... Things appealed to her mother than anything. However, there was just something about going on a duel and humiliating a noble, considering they have more ignorance than nobility in them. -During her younger years she spent much time with her brother and the king, pulling pranks on everyone. Till this day, she couldn't give up the fun and found it as a useful cure for worries and anything else on there mind. -Camping has always been a favourite, which is why she seemed so comfortable and knowledgeable during there adventures. -Angelica is in fact girly, just a bit with her jewels collection. -In her spare time or when her mind has too many things going on, she settles for writing poetry. -Rivain was a place of dance and music, party, she found it enjoyable to go there when she was a younger girl. It learned her to always smile to make the difficulty ease off a little, the dancing was so rich and new she learned it until she had perfection of it. Her father disapproved of the place due to there non-serious way of living, which ended there relationship since she left anyway. -Nan and her mother dragged her to cook when she was just a little girl. During that time she learned the basics of cooking, but fell into her fighting and other chores so she never tried cooking for everyone. Some things just stick to you. -The flute was more known with the city elves at home, she learned that from them and found herself playing it when she can't sleep. The lute on the other hand, was taught to her by a woman in Rivain. -She adores birds; her Hawke was given to her by the same Rivain woman. Gin is very protective and tends to attack others nearby for fun. On the other hand it likes Morrigan more than Alistair.

Theme song(s):

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queen-scribbles · 5 years ago

Text

Of Paranoia

Happy Birthday @errantgoat! <3 Have our babies somewhere on the road between Redcliffe/Haven etc and Orzammar. ;D

---

It was just a village, no different at first--or second--glance than a dozen others they’d passed through on this quest of theirs. The small, rundown houses huddling together in clumps, as if in solidarity against an uncaring world. The larger buildings--likely a chantry, blacksmith, general store, among others--that formed an approximation of a main square. The varying browns and dull greys broken occasionally by a scrap of red or blue or green clothing from an individual who refused to surrender to the drab color palette, mud everywhere. It was, in every way, a typical Fereldan village.

So why was it making her skin crawl?

Trinne hunched her shoulders as if that would ward off the paranoia and fought the urge to pull her cloak further around her, lose herself in the folds of her hood, as she stepped ever-so-slightly closer to her companion.

Harvey glanced at her with a raised brow and grim half-smile. “You too?”

Of course he’d picked up on her unease; the man hardly missed anything. It was good to have her instincts validated, though. She wasn’t just imagining things. “Yeah, feels like we’re bein’ watched. And not by someone friendly.”

He nodded, rubbed the back of his neck as he muttered, “At least it’s not more darkspawn.”

“I dunno; might be better to have a threat we can sense coming,” she tried to joke, but the tension in her voice made it more than a little flat.

“As opposed to one we can potentially talk our way out of?”

Trinne snorted. “Good point.” She’d left her staff back at camp to avoid drawing attention; better to not undercut that by clashing with... whatever was giving her goosebumps. “Let’s just get what we need and leave. Maybe whoever it is’ll be happy to just watch creepily.” Assuming there’s actually someone watching and this isn’t something else... The archdemon nightmares had been worse--for her, at least--recently.

Harvey nodded, leaving unsaid that their lucky was rarely that good.

She curled her fingers, feather light, around the inside of his wrist, tugging surreptitiously toward what looked like the general store. “What did we need, again?” She really had been paying attention when Alistair rattled off the list of supplies--both mage-y and mundane--back at camp. She definitely hadn’t been distracted by the hawk flying circles over the nearby woods, and she absolutely was just making small talk to blend in.

He raised an eyebrow at her again but played along. “Bandages, some of the rarer herbs for potions we haven’t been able to find ourselves, conditioning oil...” a dry smile tugged his lips. “Food.”

Trinne snorted an equally dry laugh. “Of course, food.” Three sodding Warden appetites--not to mention the qunari--meant they always, always needed food. She squeezed the coin purse hanging from her belt. “We might hafta prioritize; that last trip to Denerim kinda wiped us out, necessary as it was...” Damn ogres and their ability to dent plate armor.

“Right,” Harvey sighed, holding the door open so she could enter first. “Also,” he murmured, barely audible, as they strolled through the otherwise unoccupied store. “Jowan mentioned we’re almost out of lyrium potions.”

She had noticed that, but, “That’ll be kinda tricky in a village this size,” she murmured back just as quietly. “Not like they’ll have a Wonders of Thedas or anything, we might hafta hold off an’ pray we can manage.” She smirked. “’Less you feel like raidin’ the chantry...”

“Sure, what’s one more warrant or bounty on our head?” he deadpanned, reaching for a set of neatly rolled bandages.

Trinne looked over at him, barely biting back a surprised burst of laughter. “Really?”

“No.” Harvey sighed, running one hand through his hair. “...We’ll think of something.”

“Oh, c’mon, you don’t think it’ll be fun to add ‘wanted for breaking, entering, and theft of chantry property in a backwater village on the edge of the Hinterlands’ to our list of glorious accomplishments?”

“Trinne.” He rolled his eyes but she still caught the corners of his mouth twitching toward a smile.

“Harvey.” She grinned.

He gave a small shake of his head. “Go see if they have the herbs we need, I have a feeling that’ll be easier than us trying to find it ourselves.”

Given the unorthodox arrangement and scarcity of various products on the shelves, she was inclined to agree. “Right. Which do we need again?”

“Embrium and crystal grace.” He frowned slightly. “If we don’t have enough for both with money left for food, the embrium’s more important.”

“Got it.” Trinne headed for the counter, waited for the blonde behind it to look up from her ledgers, and made her request.

The blonde wrinkled her nose. “Hasn’t been a good year for embrium, I’m afraid, but you can check.” She pointed toward the far end of the counter, where Trinne could see a chest-high bank of small drawers. “They should all be labeled.”

“Thanks.” Trinne nodded and drifted down to look. ‘Labeled’ turned out to mean crude drawings of the respective herb tacked to each drawer, and half of them she couldn’t figure out what they were supposed to be, so she just started peeking in every drawer til she found what she sought. There was plenty of crystal grace, but--as warned--hardly any embrium. Still, something was better than nothing, and they needed it, so Trinne gathered every last scrap she could out of the drawer.

“Any luck?”

She flinched and spun to cock a brow at Harvey. “D’you always have to be so quiet?”

His lips curved in a brief, bemused smile even as he shrugged. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

Trinne just rolled her eyes. “They do have both, just not a lot of embrium.” She held up the pitiful quantity. “Apparently this isn’t a good year for it.”

Harvey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Would explain why we’ve had trouble finding it ourselves. We’ll get it; Morrigan and Zevran can fight over who needs it more.”

She smirked. “That’ll be a fun conversation to overhear. Didja find the rest of what we need?”

He nodded. “Everything besides food, at least; apparently the grocer is across the way.”

“Wait, they’re separate?” She shook her head. “Never mind, not important. What’s one more stop?” Besides longer in a place that gives both of us the willies.

They made their purchases--which took over half the remaining coin--and exited just as a breeze whisked through. Trinne shivered, not just from the brisk wind, and glanced around. Still nothing out of the ordinary. She sighed as her gaze slid over the surrounding foothills, taking in the view.

“Shame this place gives me the heebie-jeebies,” she commented, rubbing her arms as if that would banish the gooseflesh. “It’s really pretty, and all cosy nestled against the mountain....”

Harvey gave an absent nod, searching the buildings across the way. “I think that one’s the grocer.” He pointed. “Whenever you’re done admiring the view.”

“Right.” Trinne bit her lip and tugged the strap of the satchel she carried. “Dunno how much we’ll be able to afford after gettin’ all this.”

His brow furrowed in thought. “Should we see if they have a chanter’s board? I know neither of us is keen to be here longer than we have to, but if there’s a couple quick jobs we could do...”

“Might be worth looking,” Trinne muttered. “Before or after buyin’ food?”

“Can’t hurt to look now,” he shrugged. “While we have less to carry....”

“Yeah, and on that note, how come I’m carryin’ this stuff an’ you get the food?” she needled playfully as they headed toward the chantry.

Harvey raised an eyebrow at her, biting back a smile. “Should I trust you with the food?”

“Harvey Cousland, I am offended,” she gasped in mock-indignation, dramatically pressing both hands over her heart. An incredibly ill-timed growl from her stomach undercut her playacting and she frowned at it. “Traitor.” She looked back to Harvey. “I wouldn’t eat food meant for other people” --her stomach rumbled again and she pressed one hand to it-- “tempting as the damn appetite might make things. You’re so lucky it didn’t hit you this hard.”

He flashed an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry?”

“Eh, not like you had any say in how bad we got all the side effects...” Her words trailed off as they drew close enough to see the fluttering scraps of parchment nailed or tacked to the chanter-s board--and the larger sheet strategically hung so it covered almost half of them and was impossible to miss. “Harvey.”

“I see it, Trinne.”

All the levity of their banter shriveled and vanished as the two of them stared at the WANTED poster. For them. In a backwater village on the edge of Hinterlands. There were descriptions rather than sketches--Thank the Maker--but it was still a jarring reminder of the non-darkspawn problems they faced. Especially when they reached the bottom.

“Thirty sovereigns?!” Trinne hissed, nails scraping wood as she tore the poster down.

“Each,” Harvey added, deadpan. “Dead or alive, he’s getting serious...”

She snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause the men who attacked us in Lothering were just kidding.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“Guess we’re not stickin’ around to run errands,” she muttered as she crumpled the poster and sparked lightning across her palm to set it on fire.

“Probably not wise,” Harvey agreed. “But we still need food.”

“This badly?” Trinne hissed sotto voce, dropping the poster remnants to smother with her boot.

“Yes,” he hissed back, just as quiet and forceful. “The hunting around here’s thin, remember? Zevran and I have tried. It could be days to the next village, do you really want to chance that with the supplies we have left?”

She hesitated. He was right, she knew that much, but the thought of fighting off desperate civilians was unpleasant, to say the least.

“Trinne, we don’t really have much choice,” Harvey insisted softly,shooting her a curious look. “And why am I having to talk you into taking a risk?”

“Maybe b’cause you an’ me, no armor, no staff, against potentially an entire village of desperate people seems like it could be a bit uglier than a risk,” she shot back.

“No one said we have to fight them,” he said pointedly. “And that’s assuming someone even notices; it didn’t look like that had been up long, it’s possible not many people had a chance to see it.”

He made a good case, she had to give him that. Sneaking away was always an option, and this was a fairly pragmatic risk as things went. “How d’you know it hadn’t been up long?”

“I don’t know, but it rained night before last; anything posted then would be all weather-beaten.” Harvey pointed to some of the other notices as examples. “It looked fresh, until you lit it on fire. So it’d most likely only been up a day or two.”

“Place this small, that’s plenty of time for everyone to see it,” she said dubiously.

“Only if they care,” he countered. “Look, we’re going in circles. If it makes you uneasy, you can head back to camp and I’ll-”

“No way, Cousland, I’m not leavin’ you with no back up and a thirty sovereign bounty on your head, don’t be ridiculous.” She sighed. “Let’s just... get it over with so we can leave.”

He nodded and the two of them headed for the grocer’s. Trinne couldn’t help wondering if that was behind the scratchy, tense feeling of eyes on them; someone had seen the notice, seen them, and was just waiting for a vulnerable moment to make their move. She tugged on her hood again, as if it could shield her from unfriendly eyes, and fought down paranoia. Harvey was probably right; it was safe enough to take the time buying food, even more so with the scarcity of things to hunt.

Unlike the general store, there were a few other customers in here, and Trinne tensed. Harvey nudged her with his elbow. Don’t be suspicious. She knew, and she tried, but it was hard when any of the others present might be a threat. Especially when they’d only made it halfway through before the word Wardens surfaced in small talk between the proprietor and one of the other customers as he paid.

“...hear what they did?!”

A snort. “Reg, I’ve heard three different versions of what they did, but I don’t see why it matters to us; your cow’s more likely t’ sprout wings’n we are t’ see a Warden come through here.”

Harvey and Trinne shared a wordless look.

The customer scoffed at his dismissal. “Th’ teyrn feels different, one a’ his men came through couple days back, slapped up a flyer with the bounty an’ ev’rything.” His voice dropped slightly in volume, though what he was sharing was supposedly common knowledge. “Thirty bleedin’ sovereigns a head, if you can believe.”

Trinne shot Harvey another look. Maybe we should hurry.

“They killed the king, what’d you expect? The teyrn’s serious about seein’ ‘em face justice, ‘course he’s gonna offer a lot, an’ tell even people who’ll like as not never see ‘em.”

“Y’never know,” the customer pressed. “An’ imagine what someone round here could do with that kind of money.”

Trinne’s nails dug into the apple she’d picked up hard enough to break the skin. “I think what we have’s enough,” she murmured. It wasn’t, not nearly, but the uneasy feeling was growing, and her stomach twisted at the risk of having to fend off desperate people.

Harvey nodded agreement or understanding or both and reached for the share of provisions she’d collected. “I’ll pay, you can wait outside.”

She bit back the instinctive protest; one person would draw less attention, and of the descriptions on that damned poster, the one of him had been the most vague. “Alright, but if it takes too long, I’m comin’ back in.”

“Trinne-”

“I’m. Coming. Back,” she insisted.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Just don’t put too low a threshold on what you consider ‘too long’.”

“Can’t promise anything,” Trinne muttered as Harvey headed for the counter and she for the door.

The previous customer was on his way out just ahead of her and held the door with a smile. She willed herself to stay relaxed as she flashed a mildly awkward answering smile and mumbled thanks as she followed him out. He kept walking and Trinne leaned against the store wall, arms crossed and counting heartbeats as she waited. She’d never been good at waiting, but this was worse than usual. She half-watched the man amble down the way, mostly from idle curiosity, but part of her couldn’t shake suspicion, given his side of the conversation they’d overheard. She wasn’t normally this paranoid, and it was an uncomfortable feeling that did nothing for her mood. It’s the sensation of being watched, she told herself. That’s enough to put anyone on edge. Being hungry and sleep-deprived couldn’t be helping, either.

The man trod up the steps of a building not far down what served as the main thoroughfare in a village this size, paused by the woman sitting on the front porch. A woman, Trinne noticed, who was staring straight at her. And not in a casual, people-watchy way, like Trinne had been doing; like a watchman or lookout. She grabbed the man’s arm, still staring at Trinne--who was trying not to be obvious about staring back--and said something. He nodded and his steps to the front door were far more purposeful.

You’re being paranoid, you’re being paranoid, you’re being paranoid, Trinne tried to tell herself. It didn’t work very well, cold unease clamping down in her chest. Her nails dug into her arms and her teeth scraped against her chapped lower lip. Where the blazes is Cousland?!

As if summoned by her restless fretting, the door swung open and Harvey stepped out, still adjusting the strap of the pack that held the food.

He frowned when he saw her expression. “Trinne, what’s wr-”

“We need to go.” She pushed away from the wall. “Now.”

His frown deepened but he didn’t argue as he followed her down the steps. “Any particular reason?” She told him and he raised a brow. “She might have just been curious why you were watching someone she knows,” he pointed out.

“I know, and normally that would be my thought, too,” Trinne sighed and ran one hand through her hair. “But that crawly feeling, like someone’s watchin’ me, is worse.” She adjusted her hood before letting her hand drop and adding quietly, “I know this isn’t a ‘Warden senses’ thing, but I just have a bad feeling, y’know?”

Harvey nodded. “Gut instinct’s just as important. And it can’t hurt to err on the side of caution.”

“For once in my life?” she added glibly, smirking, as a defense against the alarm bells tolling in her head.

He shrugged.

Normally that would be where she made some sarcastic or pithy remark and he rolled his eyes at her, but she was currently too tense for sarcasm. So she rambled instead. “It’s not really once in my life anymore, is it? Between you an’ Jowan, I am starting to think things through, an’ occasionally....”

The words trailed off as they came in sight of the road out from the village. A small, loosely scattered cluster of figured loitered near the road. She couldn’t make out faces from this distance, but they didn’t look wary and braced for confrontation. More like lazy fishermen hoping for a bite they weren’t even sure would come.

Even as her steps started to falter at the thought of having to fight these people, Harvey grabbed her wrist and tugged her after him into the gap between two houses.

“I saw,” he said quietly before she could even open her mouth. “It just means leaving by a different route than we came in.”

Trinne gave a jerky nod, glad one of them wasn’t tripped up by dread and worst case scenarios, but, “How?” Nestled in the mountain foothills as it was, the road was the only real way in and out of the village.

Of course, they’d become quite adept at circumventing when the ‘only real way’ to places was blocked.

Harvey jerked his head in a sideways nod. “This way.” He started dodging between houses, headed for the outskirts of the village and the sloping mountainside beyond. Of course he'd figured an alternate route, just in case. Planning ahead had always been more his strength than hers. As was finding ways around problems rather than through them,

The village border was marked by a waist high stone wall, topped by a wooden rail that added another foot or so to its height. As it looked largely meant to deter wildlife, it was easy enough for them to slip through the gap between wood and stone after taking off their packs.

“We shouldn’t head straight back to camp,” Harvey said as they re-shouldered the packs. “Just to make sure no one’s following us or anything.”

“Good idea.” Trinne bounced on the balls of her feet slightly to settle her pack in a more comfortable position. “Lead the way.”

It was rough going at first; the slanted terrain made keeping their balance tricky, and they both slipped more than once, but once they were past the village proper and things flattened out it got much easier. Even with the occasional minutes-long stop so Harvey could check for any sign they were being followed. It made a return trip that would’ve taken half an hour at a leisurely stroll three times as long, but Trinne didn’t mind. Better safe than sorry, in this case, and the view and weather both made it a relatively pleasant walk.

And as it was, they were almost halfway into that circuitous route before she felt like it was safe to talk.

“So, Cousland,” she began, unable to keep the mischievous note entirely out of her casual tone, “I hate to say ‘I told you so’-”

Harvey snorted and sent her a look that was both dubious and amused. “No, you don’t.” A smile tugged the corners of his mouth as he swatted aside a low-hanging branch. “And if Jowan’s to be believed, you never have.”

“Okay, you got me there,” she laughed. “But who doesn’t like bein’ proven right?”

He raised a brow. “Depends on the topic. ‘The archdemon will destroy the world’ is not a claim I’d want proven right.”

“True. But you know what I meant.” Trinne ran a hand through her hair, no longer caring if she knocked back her hood. With the village so far behind them, the crawly feeling of someone watching had diminished significantly.

Harvey nodded. “I do.”

“Next time a village gives one of us the creeps, maybe we just give it a pass.” Her stomach rumbled again. “Even if it means goin’ hungry.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. It would be an issue to deal with when--if--it arose, she knew that. Didn’t lessen her relief that this particular incident was behind them.

“‘Least now I can stop bein’ the cynical one,” she teased, which earned a quiet snort and another shrug. “Really, Harv, I appreciate the efforts to steer me away from blatant paranoia.”

Harvey chuckled. “Anytime.”

She smiled back, all playful sincerity, because she knew he meant it, and plucked a leaf to keep her fingers busy as they wound their way between the trees.

--- --- ---

This is meant to be at a point where our kids are friends and there are no Feelings yet. HOWEVER. As it wound up 100% Trinne pov, who’s to say what Harvey’s thinking. :P

also, dear Maker, why are closing sentences so hard??? I must’ve gone through about eight before finding one I like well enough.

#queens fic #harvey cousland #trinne amell #otp: shadows & sparks #dragon age #i really love these two a lot if you couldn't tell :D :D :D

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