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DRAGON AGE Aesthetics » Mabari

requested by windsofbeleriand

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[Happy bark]

The dog had run all the way from Ostigar, following this human’s scent. This was the human that had saved its life. It had imprinted on the human, but had been too sick to follow them into battle. But now it was ready and able. 

woofarfbark started following you

“Oh, um, hello there pup.  Maker, why is a mabari following me?”

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Why a Dog Would Make DA:I So Much Better

Cullenmance Inquisitor receiving a Mabari puppy after defeating Corypheus, Cullen stammering on about how important they are in Fereldan culture, representing loyalty and undying love. It slowly dawns on the Inquisitor this is an Engagement Puppy.

Bullmance inquisitor obtaining a kennel of Mabari for the war-force and having one bond to them. They craft it a helmet with little horns on it and show it to Bull, introducing it as “The Iron Bark”. Bull is silent for a while and then says, clearly choked up “It’s great, boss. Really great.”

Cole being so happy when Mabari are introduced to Skyhold, because “They are so happy, all the time! And if they’re not it’s so so simple, simply smile. And they like me, even if they have no hurt to heal for them!”

Dorian is a cat person. If a Mabari is a companion to a romanced Dorian queue dialogs such as “Amatus do we REALLY HAVE TO have this flea covered gas monster in our tent?” “He likes you!” “No, he does not. He sat on my face and broke wind for a full minute last night before I could shift his bulk, I nearly died and he PLANNED it. He doesn’t like to share!”

Josie being polite as ever when the Inquisitor is followed everywhere by their new smelly friend, stashing scented handkerchiefs in her sleeves and feigning sniffles when the smell is too overbearing. Eventually she breaks and demands the Inquisitor bathes their Mabari, and everyone is surprised to hear Leliana’s sudden laughter. It’s laughter that sounds ten years younger and ten years more innocent than she is. 

Leliana sitting with Dog late at night, talking to them about how she had a dear, dear friend who had a Mabari, just like you. How she was going to write them into a song, but never did. What happened to those days? 

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                    The Warden LAUGHS; hand extending once again with bits of bread for the hound. How long had he been roaming the woods in search of food? Had he an owner? Strange to see a Mabari ALONE. “Don’t eat too fast.” words mumbled while Carver takes the time to scratch behind ears. “You lost?”

It gobbles down the offerings, albeit slower than intended at his requests. The scratches at its ears feel very good. Very good indeed. The dog moves forward to rest its massive head on the human’s leg. Was it lost? It supposed it was. No owner, no home. The dog whimpered softly, ears drooping in response. 

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"Oh, who's a good boy? You're a good boy."

[Happy bark]

They are! They are such a good boy. They are so very good. Human can commence with the petting of the belly now please. That would be good.

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ALRIGHT FRIENDS

Like this post for a pupper to come play with your muse

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@lone-blade | continued 

The hound looks between the offering and the man, still unsure. But the man’s voice rings with sincerity. Padding closer, the dog gently takes the bread and scarfs it down. It lets out a happy bark and licks the human’s hand before pawing at his leg for more treats. Yes, this was a good human.

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     "Now, how did you get in here?" A pause, and a snort, though he kept his voice as soothing as possible. "You’re far too handsome to be some prank of Sera’s. Unless you happen to be filled with bees, of course."

The puppy flinched when the human spoke. But it wasn't a raised, angry voice. It was nice. Handsome? Why yes, he was quite handsome thank-you-very-much. The pup slowly crawled out from under the desk and looked up at the human. He cocked his head to the side, studying the person in front of him with curious eyes. 

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Krem gave a smile. He hadn’t really seen a mabari that wasn’t set on attacking him, less often one that stayed when he approached it. He offered his hand before lightly scratching it behind the ears. He could see why the people of Ferelden liked dogs. “Do you have a master?” He asked, though he didn’t see any markings on it that would make it so. “You seem far away from anywhere you should be.”

The little tail began wagging as soon as he was pet. He leaned into the touch with a groan of appreciation. Yes, good. A nice human. At the question, the Mabari's ears drooped a bit and he whined. No, he didn't have a master. Hadn't imprinted yet. He couldn't find the right person, but maybe this one would be a good master? 

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Green eyes opened partway at the sound of whimpering. Brow furrowing, the Inquisitor hummed disapproval against her pillow before lifting her head. Her body was sore and  lined with bruises that protested at every movement.

She exhaled sharply.

      ” You will stay on the floor. That is here Mabari belong. “

His ears perked up at Master's voice, but drooped at her words. But the floor was very cold, and he was still small enough to fit on the bed. Perhaps Master wouldn't mind so much if he just stayed at her feet? The only issue was how to get up on that mountain of a bed. A running start maybe? The pup backed up, wriggled his rump to set his back feet, then ran. Awkward puppy legs carried him across the room before he jumped. He huffed as he didn't quite land on the bed, but scrambled and clawed his way up. Success! He was on the warm bed. But instead of curling up with Master, he remained on the end of the bed, curled up by her feet.

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Wet, warm, the faint sound of whimpering.

Three very familiar things that stirred him from his restless slumber. Cullen instinctively retracted from the wet tongue that slipped between his fingers, coating them with a generous amount of dog slime he only thought to wipe off on the bed, disgusted, but he appreciated his companion’s concern and patted the side of the bed closer to him, a wordless beckon of his fingers. Come closer; Cullen wanted to scratch him behind the ears.

The dog heeded his master's command. He came closer, nosing master's hand until the fingers could move to his head. As tall as he was, he was able to rest his chin on the bed. The Mabari stared at his master with sad, concerned brown eyes. He whimpered again, still worried for master. 

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To be still was to be wasting time, and to the Seeker, keeping her physical fitness at its peak was the best way to spend spare time. Not only for herself either — it inspired others to work as hard as she did, so she liked to believe. 

Only when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye did she slow, noting it was a dog gnawing at the next dummy over. She did not recall anyone in Skyhold who had a war dog, but if it was bothering her, then it was fine as it was. 

It gnawed and chewed, finding a good hold on the dummy before giving the limb a good shake. The dog was still small, still growing out of it's puppy-phase. The attack would be much more damaging when it was bigger. It could feel eyes on it, so the dog paused and looked up at the warrior-woman. It cocked it's head, as if asking How was that?  

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Iron Bull’s room is right next to the tavern, and most days he comes down through there to get outside. It’s morning still, and The Bull is groggy, tired, stiff. He smiles, though, when the Mabari mutt attacks him, and falls to the ground with a startled, belly-shaking laugh. He slowly rolls them over with a grin, pinning the dog down by its midsection with all his weight. “Good morning to you, too, boy!”

He almost has him. The element of surprise was his. But once again, The Bull's strength wins out. The Mabari finds himself pinned yet again. One day, though. One day, he'd be bigger and would be able to hold his own. The young dog yipped and licked at The Bull's hand.

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"Oh, is it that time?" Smiling down at the Mabari’s exuberance, Lorne bent to pick up the stick and remained crouched for a few more moments, fingers scratching affectionately beneath the dog’s jaw, getting the little neglected spot below his collar that always made him whine appreciatively. "My poor boy. I’ve been neglecting you lately, haven’t I?"

Yes, yes, throw the stick, throw the stick! Oh? The dog cocked his head as Master remained crouched. Then he slowly leaned into the touch. Ohhhh. Yes that spot, yes, good. He whined, both at the attention and at the question. Master had been gone for some time, and the Mabari missed him. 

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ahahah sorry i haven’t been over here. there are now 56 of you. that’s a lot of greeters. so ah. go ahead and give this a like if you would like a greeter? 

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[Alistair slept quietly, flopped out on his back and limbs sprawled in all directions. The warm flank of the mabari pressed against his side only stirred him into half-sleep, but the rasping lap of a tongue against his scalp was a different matter.]

"Wha- oh, gross!”

[He sat up with a pout, hand smoothing over his now well-salivated scalp as he fixed the dog with a look.]

[He backed up a bit, sitting proudly and happily. Cheese-man was up. Job done. Now it was time for attention. He liked the Cheese-man's scratches. His little stub of a tail wagged back and forth, and his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth.]

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They had walked so long that bitter winter day, Zevran could scarcely feel his feet. Not that he would want to feel them, as upset as they likely were with him, and as soon as they’d chosen a camp for the evening and he’d assisted in putting up their tents, the assassin settled down to tend to his gear, his bare feet nearly close enough to the fire to feel the lick of the flames. Or at least, they were until a certain Mabari settled himself neatly in between.

"Can I help you, my friend?" His hands continued their task as he glanced up, his needle flashing in the firelight, placing careful rows of stitches along a damaged seam. "I fear I am sadly devoid of treats at the moment."

No treats either? That was another black mark against the elf. The dog huffed once, narrowing his eyes. He deliberately turned his head to look at his master, then slowly looked back at the elf. A low growl came from his chest; more of a warning than a threat.