#i would die for this halla

[harley-michaels-main]

Just saw Thor Love and Thunder and I need to talk about it so read ahead at your own risk.

First of all, i love the fucking goats they are the star of the show.

Okay now onto the movie. I loved it. One of the funniest and most heart wretching films I had ever seen. The casting is always incredible with Taika films and they did another amazing job. I am so happy to see Natalie Portman return.

I will say that her Jane Foster with cancer was not a surprise seeing as though that is what happened in the comics. However I was surprised to see her death at the end of the film. I truly thought that it was going to follow the comics and have Jane become the new Thor and the og Thor would either die or step down. Her death did make me cry but it was nice to get a proper closure for Thor and Janes relationship and even finding out how they broke up in the first place.

Thor in the film was hilarious and I loved to see his growth as a character. To see his struggle with depression and PTSD and even take advice from Peter Quill who is someone we have learned he does not have the best relationship with. Him learning about the corrupt power system in what im guessing was Mount Olympus because i do not remember what it is actually called was incredible. Him learning that he was on his own and would ultimately have to face this fight alone was somewhat sad but seeing him literally rip one through Zeus was amazing.

Valkyrie my true king, I love you. She is the best character in this series and seeing her go one on one with Gor??? Incredible. I literally was about to cry because i thought she was dead but im glad she lived. Also when she kissed Zeus' maid on the hand i was dying because I wanted that to be me.

Korg had mw sobbing. This dude literally almost died and then ended up making a baby with a man named DWAYNE? Adorable. 10/10.

Also fucking Axel??? HEIMDALS SON??? YES PLEASE HE WAS ADORABLE!! Iloved his interactions with Thor and I see him playing a huge part in the future movies.

Christian fucking bale this man scared the fuck out of me. He is the creepiest MCU villain thus far. He does an amazing job portraying the same character with split personalities after being corrupted. His character was complex and really dug into religion as well for it being a marvel film. With it being a controversial topic right now I think that many will not take to it lightly. However his performance was incredible. Another masterpiece for him and another DC actor converted to marvel.

But seriously the ending threw me through a loop. With the way things were going in Eternity, I truly thought that Jane and Thor were going to raise his daughter together. But seeing Jane die in Thors arms like that? I was sobbing in the theatre.

The first post credit scene somewhat confirmed for me that thor was going to die soon. With Zeus still living and calling upon Hercules its kinda a given. Will Herc kill Thor? Most likely. Will Herc live? I doubt it. I think that they will end up either killing each other or Thors new niece will end his life.

The second post credit scene. This had the whole theatre gasping. Imagine it. Everyone is talking, sotting around, waiting to see if the lights turn on or if there's a second post credit scene. Then, the gold sparks appear on screen. Within a matter of two seconds, everyone was back in their seats and the theater was silent. We see Jane appear at the Gates of Val Halla. And who is there to greet her? Heimdal. Literally everyone gasped when seeing him. And sadly, after Jane had lost her battle with cancer, she was allowed into the great hall of gods, who have all lost their lives in their own battles.

Overall this was my favorite thor movie. I love Natalie Portman and Chris Hemsworth on screen together. They have great chemistry and work so well together. Im happy she was able to get a proper farewell for the franchise and got the proper treatment she deserved for her work. I cant wait to see what comes next when Thor returns.

#thor #thor love and thunder #thor love and thunder spoilers #thor spoilers #chris hemsworth #natalie portman #tessa thompson #taika waititi #christian bale

[fool-errant]

Company

Oops my hand slipped.

This is hot off the keyboard. No beta - we die like gnomes. Just felt like getting this out. As much as Astarion needs a hug and cuddles I imagine getting him to understand or accept the concept would be hard. Which is how we ended up here. Halla is my current PC - she's an actual DnD tabletop character of mine I dumped into the game. She's a lot better with words when she's doing her usual conniving shit. In this case - she's trying to be genuine. Which is new for everyone. They are both bad at this which is why I feel they work. Halla is a half elf bard - whose very meh with elven shit. And this takes place in the front half of Act 2. No spoilers in it just set dressing.

Astarion wasn’t sure why he’d assumed the nightmares wouldn’t reach him Here. Out in the middle of this godsdamned land covered in shadows. The land was brutal enough he’d thought he would be too tired for Cazador -even a memory of him -to reach. The worm was clearly eating the intelligent part of his brain.

As his mind cleared he found himself sitting up clutching his knees. His racing thoughts started dying down as he made his eyes focus on the campfire in front of him. The glow warding off the darkness of the curse and now his own dreams. A delicate cough attracted his attention from the fire. He found himself meeting a familiar pair of gold eyes. “Darling,” he said quietly with a forced smile. The woman wordlessly sat next to him. Close enough for him to feel her warmth but not touching him. Ever since their talk about their, whatever they were doing, she seemed more careful to not touch him. An odd amount of care that gnawed on him, being treated so delicately. Like he was made of glass. Him. It’d be funny if it wasn’t a relief. “Dreams again.” It was a question that wasn’t. She gave him a look he was unable to read. Concern?  Exasperation? Exhaustion? It was late, and the days had not been kind to anyone. “It was noth-” he tried to shrug it off with a laugh. A lie. But the bard’s face changed to a more readable expression. Skepticism. He trailed off awkwardly. They had talked about being more…upfront. “It was Him.” he finally spat out. “Cazador.” The name hung in the air - sullying the aura of the campfire. Halla held out her hand. After a moment of hesitation he accepted it and found himself clinging to it like it and soon her whole arm like it was a rock in a raging river. Leaning slightly he found her bony shoulder under his cheek. Pushing himself closer, the woman offered no resistance, just a small hum in response. He breathed the scent of her, warm skin, her blood, her sweat, leather oil and the pine rosin she was always using on her violin. “Sorry about the stink, I need to do the washing,” she sighed. “It’s been hard to get the laundry service out here. Turns out they all run the other way when they hear “shadow curse.” He smiled weakly. It was a poor stab at humor, but it was still funnier than his lingering dreams. He briefly wondered about telling her he didn’t mind. That the earthy smells were better than the stale old decay and rot of his nightmares. That probably was something best left to himself. “I hope I didn't wake you. Did I?" nightmares were embarrassing. Nightmares where you were so loud you woke others were mortifying.

“Nah” she shook her head, her brown hair glinting gold in the firelight. “It’s my turn to keep watch. I drew the short straw tonight.” she offered with a shrug. The short straw was usually the darkest/latest shift in the night watch rotation. But in this place, there was little difference from the brightest to the darkest parts. Or even a night or day. Exactly how long they had been here was hard to calculate. Days flew by without any indicators but new injuries and horrors. It reminded him of the days in Cazador’s kennels, hours and weeks swept by like a stranger with no notice or regard. That might have been what brought the nightmares plaguing him tonight. The monotonous misery.

“Do you mind giving me my arm back?” Halla’s voice cut into his thoughts.  Oh. He was dragged back to the here and now, the campfire. Clinging to this woman like he was a child with a security blanket. Fool. He let go of her arm like it was burning. “Karlach’s shift’s coming up.” she said getting to her feet. Straightening up Astarion nodded and gestured for her to go on. 

Standing up with a stretch he turned to walk into his tent. Try to salvage the night - get some rest before they marched back into the cursed dark and shadows. If the shadows would leave him alone. He was about to duck into his tent when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “Erm.” Turning over his shoulder was Halla. She was probably here to chide him for being scared of nightmares, tell him it was nothing to worry about. “You uh…” she faltered, “want to come to my tent?” So that’s what this was. He’d assumed she was too tired for this. Shadowlands were hardly known for their, erotic qualities. Maybe this was payment. Get a shoulder to cry on, give some pleasure. He’d wondered how much of his words she had heard, how much she had meant of him making his own choices. Or how little she cared for sex. He had hoped. But he was a fool.  “If that’s what you want.” he said trying to hide his exhausted resignation. She bristled, “Not like that.” she replied. “I meant.” her hands wringing, “I mean. Not for that.” She was usually so good at words it would have been amusing to watch her flounder if it weren’t his nerves she was playing like a bow string. “Want to sl-” she stopped gnawing on her lower lip before finally she spat out something that it took him a moment to realize was elven true tongue.   The words for a night's rest and meditation. “Rest with me?” Her tone and language so formal and stiff it was impossible to sound lewd. “What?” he found himself staring at her in bewilderment. “If that was a proposition you have no right to critique mine.” The woman was of some elven blood so it wasn’t a surprise she knew the tongue. She had just never spoken it before. Her face was turning red, a performance he’d never seen her do before. “Do you want to rest with me?” she repeated again in Common her tone quiet. “Just rest. Just sleep. Nothing else. You don’t have to, you can say no if you want to. I just thought you could use the company.” Being alone he was used to. Even in a crowded room, or stacked like kindling with his “siblings” in their bunks. But did he want to be? Now? In this endless night and shadow. “I think” he swallowed. “I think I would like that.” He let her take him by the hand, as she led him to her tent. Karlach settling down by the fire, sharpening her axe, glanced up and smiled like she was going to say something but was silenced with a glare from Halla. The tiefling made a gesture like she was locking her mouth and went back to her business. He ducked to get through the door of the bard’s tent. She drew the drape over the entrance as they came in. They’d made love under the stars, fucked in his bedroll, but he had never gone into her tent. It had felt wrong to do that while he was toying with her, using her. Even with the new found freedom of the parasite it felt wrong to cross the threshold. Violate what odd trust she had given to him. But now he was being led in. It felt strange to be invited so warmly. Reminded him of all the other times he’d been trusted and shouldn’t have been. This was going to end badly. “One moment.” she said and tapped a lantern. The gray darkness of the tent was illuminated into a warm glow. The floor was a beaten battered carpet stolen in their wanderings. Its original design, now worn and faded, still provided some color and degree of separation from the dirt. A few books and scrolls were scattered about. Her boots and hat were carefully placed next to a stool where her armor rested. Ready at a moment's notice. Removing her sandals - the woman began arranging her bedroll and blankets. “You can make yourself comfortable.” Glancing around he tried to find a place to sit, but the only spare cushion that wasn’t part of her bedroll was providing a resting place for her violin. Touching that would be more of an invasion than entering her tent. Gesturing around the room he looked at her quizzically. 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. You can move that and sit there, if you prefer to meditate sitting up” she gestured at the musical instrument. “Or you can join me. If you like.” “I thought you said-” “I said sleep. And I mean sleep.” she said with more patience than he felt he deserved. Getting to her feet - she stooped, though less than he had to and gently placed her hands on his face. Lightly. Giving him space to move away if he wanted. He didn’t move from her touch. “We can share a bedroll,  blanket, or pillows or whatever you like.” she said gently. She kneeled back down onto the bedroom and started to stretch out, pulling blankets over her. Leaving some for him, he noticed. A sweet gesture even if he didn’t need it. Carefully he laid down next to her, not touching her at all. When was the last time he’d shared a bed with someone? He wondered. Just for sleep. Not post cloitally. Surely he must have at some point when he was young. Alive. Those days were a blur to him. A blur of sunshine and comfort that swam away when he tried to focus on it. As Halla began to shift her pillow around he was pulled from his musings by a glint of metal. He reached under her pillow and his hand found a stiletto knife. “I never expected you to be the sort to use blades in the bedroom.” “That’s not for you.” she said rolling her eyes, taking the blade from him. “Old habit.” With that she tucked it back under her pillow. She wasn’t asking him if he cared or was concerned about it. He decided not to press her hospitality any further. An odd mix of naivete and steel. Sweet enough to invite a vampire to lay next to her but savvy enough to keep a knife close. He could respect that. “You can turn off the lamp if you want.” she murmured her voice half muffled by her pillow. She sounded like she was halfway off to dreaming. He hoped hers were more pleasant than his had been.

The light was better than shadows, real or imagined he decided. Leaving the lamp lit he closed his own eyes and tried to get himself to rest as well. At least for the moment he wasn't alone in the dark.

#fanfic #bg3 #astarion

[palestinian-fundraising]

PLEASE READ AND REBLOG🇵🇸

Help the disabled Sarah and her family evacuate from Gaza

Message from organizer:

Hi, This is Halla Abdelhalim the organizer of this fundraiser. I live in the States in NY and this fundraiser is for my Palestinian friend Sarah Aljamal and her family who are currently in Rafah. They lost everything and we are trying to raise money for them to evacuate from Gaza to Egypt. Please donate and share this campaign as it's their only hope. Thank you!

Sarah's Story:

I'm Sarah and the war is my story

I'm 23 years old, I have congenital defects in my bones and joints, I had open heart surgery before the war, I was suffering a lot because my movement is limited, but after the war life became very difficult and I couldn't bear it. Everything is difficult to move and sleep. My dream before the war was to go for treatment and see Dr. Hani Abdel Gawad. My father used to pay for my treatment, but everything was destroyed because of the war, my dream was destroyed because of the war, everything that would have made me better was destroyed, please help me.

My childhood was difficult because I underwent more than 10 orthopedic surgeries and open heart surgery. My pain during the war increases. I cannot live my normal life. Please help me

When the war started on October 8, the occupation contacted us and the residents of our neighborhood. We who live in the al-Maqusi neighborhood were asked to evacuate immediately, so we fled without thinking. Minutes later, a genocide took place in our neighborhood. We miraculously survived, but our neighborhood was destroyed, and we no longer have a house, it was partially destroyed, and these are pictures of the neighborhood I grew up in, it's a pile of stones.

The current situation is very difficult, I was displaced with my family three times, once to my uncle, once to my brother's friend, and the last time to Rafah City in a 4×4 room for rent, 8 people sleep in that room, when I sleep I think about whether we will wake up, die, or become pieces and no one will know us. I'm very scared and I don't want to lose any of my family members.

Despite all this, I'm trying to save my parents from the war in Gaza, that's why I'm currently running a fundraising campaign to raise money to help them get out of Gaza as soon as possible, I'm trying to save my mom and dad, my older brother and younger sister, my older brother had a newborn baby named Rami and now he is struggling to find milk for him due to the lack of materials in Rafah City, it's up to me to do everything I can to get them out of there and try to move them to the nearest safe haven and this will only happen with your help. I want to leave Gaza City and go to Egypt, knowing that the cost of going to Egypt per person ranges from 5,000 to 7,000 dollars, and my family consists of a large number of 8 people

We are 8 members every person of us had his life and dreams, each of us dreamed of being safe and stable. Now we don't feel safe and we don't find it anywhere in the Gaza Strip. My father and mother dreamed of seeing us successful, living happily and safely and fulfilling all our dreams

My older brother got married and has a son whom he wants to protect even with his soul.

My middle brother recently graduated in September, days before the war, he dreamed and longed to find a job.

My little sister, in her first year at university, she only went to university for two weeks and her dreams of becoming an accountant were completely destroyed.

As for me, I had already started my journey of finding myself, so I started a new job and started developing myself in the field of voiceover (cartoon dubbing) specifically.

All our dreams are on hold, we don't know whether we will be able to complete them or we will continue to suffer from the horrors of war here.

We were exhausted waiting for the war to end, our house was completely destroyed and burned down.

We lost all our belongings and personal papers, even our clothes, there was nothing left of the house except rubble.

We want your help to get out of Gaza please

We can no longer provide medicine for my mom and dad because they suffer from chronic diseases such as hypertension and diabetes and dad is a heart patient and I, too, my small body can no longer tolerate extreme cold and no longer sleep on the floor due to my condition

All we dream of is living safely. I hope you can help me and donate even a small amount because it will make a difference. Only your help will protect me and my family. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for donating and reading my story. I hope to live a beautiful and normal life like everyone else. Thank you.

My family and I still need your help, if you can't donate, please help me share the link.

#gofundme #mutual aid #fundraiser #donations #signal boost #palestine #Rafah #Gaza #save gaza #save rafah #save palestine #free #freedom #free rafah #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #free palestine #free gaza #all eyes on rafah #palestine fundraiser #fundraising #aid #palestine aid #humanitarian aid #financial aid #ceasefire #operation olive branch #palestine charity #charity #palestine will be free #palestine relief

[worldssmallestghost]

Ibara should exist, actually

Hey, another little essay about a book series that hardly anybody even thinks about anymore, but I do!

If you're a fan of the Pendragon Adventures series, you're likely aware of the... Ibara paradox. If you're not, let me explain:

In the book series, it's explained that there are "travelers" from each "territory", which are different times and places in the vastness that is the greater universe, called Halla. The main antagonist, Saint Dane, has the goal of throwing each of these territories into chaos by forcing them to go against their set timeline. Most of the time, he loses and moves on, but sometimes he succeeds and gets stronger. He views his losses as inevitable wins, as each fallen territory is like a domino effect.

Book four brings upon his first win.

He relies on the local traveler's knowledge of the world in order to trick her into programming a computer virus that is supposed to make people realize that the virtual utopia of "Life light" isn't perfect so they'll willingly leave their perfect worlds to keep their real world alive and functioning. However, Saint Dane's trick is that it straight up kills people before they can get out. The world falls and, is implied to have created a separate timeline and whole new territory in the form of Ibara, a distant future version of itself.

Travelers are not of the worlds they inhabit. They are, for all intents and purposes, gods that maintain order without having any personal effect on Halla. Saint Dane, being one of them that broke order and left, wants to watch it all burn so he can become the ultimate god. Aja is a traveler, and thus, by series logic, she's not supposed to have effect. She was never supposed to exist to create the virus (the reality bug).

Hence where people start screaming "PLOT HOLE!". And I have been guilty of that until recently.

Saint Dane has never been the kind of man to create problems. He just exacerbates them. In book three, he messes with the morality of the travelers by forcing them to leave the Hindenburg to its fate. The Hindenberg was supposed to explode. In book two, is one of the few times he gets as close to creating a problem for a while. Poisoning fertilizer that the ship-inhabiting people of Cloral need.

I believe that Saint Dane just pours gasoline on turning points to accelerate things. Like putting nitrous-oxide in a car to make it careen into a wall. It's the speed that makes it hard to turn things the right direction.

Ibara was always going to happen. Veelox was doomed from the get-go. Saint Dane, time and time again, puts down humanity by calling us selfish and self destructive. In The Quillan games he breaks Bobby down by telling him that it's just human nature to refuse change. The people of Veelox wouldn't want to leave Lifelight, why would they? They get to have perfect dreams forever until they die. Reality can be whatever they want.

The Reality Bug was just to speed things up. Forcing a slightly different version of Ibara to exist.

"What about Aja Killian helping with the creation of Rayne? If she removed herself from the equation, how could she have been there to help people build a better future?" I think that, alongside Saint Dane speeding up the inevitable, Aja was never supposed to be the person leading the charge, it was supposed to be someone else much later. She was forced to fill a role that would eventually be taken by someone else under different, but similar circumstances down the road.

The series has, in my opinion, never made itself quiet about its ideas of how important fate is. Even after the travelers are given the chance to either go back to being immortal spirits, or mortals, they just live normal, unexceptional lives. Like a tiny little bug in a much bigger program, a little quirk that in the end, changes pretty much nothing.

Anyway, if you made it this far, damn, I'm sorry you had to put up with my fan theory for a very, very small fandom lmao. But thank you.

#pendragon adventures #bobby pendragon #books

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

Lavellan Tells a Story

On their way to track rogue apostates, Inquisitor Lavellan tells a story to his companions.

Featuring: Mahvir Lavellan, Dorian Pavus, Varric Tethras, and Cole!

Length: Short & Sweet.

⚔️⚔️⚔️

"There is a story among the Dalish," Inquisitor Lavellan says as he walks amongst clefts in the hills. His years of outdoor experience allow him to avoid rock falls and loose stones, while his companions stumble and slip behind him.

"Right." Dorian chides, his foot catching on rough ground and causing him to stumble into the elf's back. "Now seems like the perfect time for stories."

"It's always a perfect time for a story, Sparkler." Varric fires back, clinging to the back of Cole's leathers so the young boy could guide him safely down the path.

Mahvir reaches back with a gloved hand to steady his mage, and Dorian takes it as an opportunity to draw his staff. The Tempest was a dangerous weapon, pillaged from a demon-infested temple within the Western Approach, but today it would be nothing more than a walking stick.

"Very well," he huffs, missing the warmth of his lover's hand as it moves away. "You lot have your fun, while I try not to die."

They continue their descent, creeping amongst the hills in the Hinterlands. This was the first place the Inquisition had gained influence and yet war still raged in these lands.

Rogue Templars in the area clashed with apostates who refused to join the Inquisition. Both sides thought they were fighting for a higher cause when in reality, they were putting innocent people out of their homes and killing themselves out of pride.

"So the story," Mahvir continues as his gaze maps out safe routes down the rocks. "The Goddess Andruil catches Fen'harel hunting her Halla in the forest and demands satisfaction. As Fen'harel is tied to a tree to be held hostage for a night, he is sentenced to serve Andruil in bed for a year and a day-"

"That's not as righteous of a punishment as I'd expect from a God." Varric comments.

"I suppose we all have our vices." Dorian agrees.

"While Andruil is setting up her camp for the night, a forgotten one known as Anais, flew into her camp. He claimed that Fen'harel had also wronged him and he demanded satisfaction as well." 

"This is a violent story," Cole remarks.

"Most of them are." Varric soothes.

"They decide to duel for their right to Fen'harel, while he watches from his place against the tree. He eventually calls out to Anais and tells him of a weak point within Andruil's armor. Anais heeds the wolf's advice, and as Andruil falls to the forest floor, he turns to regard Fen'harel..."

Dorian chuckles lowly, despite himself. "Turning your back on an enemy? A novice mistake for anyone."

"Anais didn't see Andruil rise from her place nor her arrow coming until it protruded from his abdomen. Both now unfit for battle, they sit beside the camp's fire.  As they are forced to tend to their wounds, Fen'harel chews upon his binds, and escapes."

There is a moment after the story ends where the only sound is their footfalls, the soft clanking of Mahvir's armor, and fighting in the distance.

"A lovely story, Amatus." Dorian finally says, skidding down a few feet as his staff dislodges a small boulder. "That Fen'harel is a tricksy bastard."

"You think we are like Fen'harel?" Cole offers, there is something hidden within his voice, but the other three men easily dismiss it as his usual touch of whimsical.

"The Inquisition, yes." His voice carries softly and does not echo against the stone that was around them on all sides. A fresh cloud of smoke, caused by an invasive fire, had caught his attention.

His ears twitch.

After another moment of silent consideration, he continues. "We make enemies on all sides and maneuver our way out of danger. The mages and templars, Celene and Gaspard, The Grey Wardens and Corypheus..."

"We do end up in the middle of things quite a bit, don't we."

"I'm half afraid I'll start praying to Fen'harel before this business is done," Mahvir says. He seems genuinely bothered by this admittance. A weakness shared among friends. "The creators know that I could use some of his cunning, in the days to come."

"Why do you need his when you have your own?" Dorian challenges. He knew the Inquisitor well enough by now to recognize when the elf was on the hunt.  He'd already prioritized a plan, by the time the fire's smoke had reached the sky. "The plan?"

"We're going to drive the mages' into their fire and smoke them out. Once it enters their lungs, they'll lose focus, and we can handle them quietly."

"I suppose I'll be dispelling anything they throw at us," Dorian says, already thinking of the smoke and ash that will be clinging to his robes.

"And Cole and I will be boxing them in?" Varric finishes off, already pulling Bianca free and fondling her trigger.

"I'm not equipped for stealth," Mahvir announces. Leaning back on his heels just for his armor to creak and his grappling chain to rattle. "I will keep watch and warn you of any reinforcements. Keep an ear out for a robin's call."

"A whistle, amidst flames and fighting?" Dorian sounds dubious.

"I will hear it," Cole says, his face shadowed by the brim of his hat.

"If we can take the mages out quickly, we can take the Templars by surprise. I'll join the battle then and hopefully, this road can be open for travel and trade within the next few days."

"Ah yes, the Inquisition's most important duty; returning commerce to Thedas one hovel at a time."

They reach the base of the hills just as Dorian finishes speaking, and Mahvir steps out to hide amongst the trees that had not been struck or burnt down by some miracle. "Get the job done here Dorian, and we may see less of Fen'harel in the future."

The mage's staff begins to glow- its decorative skull rattles with ambient magic- as its sunken eyes begin to gleam with a faint purple light. "As you say, Inquisitor."

The apostates do not live long enough to see their fire scourge the Hinterlands, nor do they get the satisfaction of seeing their enemies struck down in their stead.

The first caravan of the season travels down this war-torn road not two days later.

Fen'harel remains, as always, in the middle of things.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dorian pavus #mahvir lavellan #pavellan #varric tethras #da cole #dragon age cole #dragon age fanfiction

[omgkalyppso]

A few months ago I found most of an old wip incomplete from 2011. It follows the post-canon tale of my warden Illusen Amell who intended to refuse Morrigan's ritual and die fighting the archdemon, but survives due to her own pregnancy. She had spent the game in a romance with Alistair, but made him king and effectively ended their relationship through this act. Morrigan, while trying to entice Illusen into agreeing to the ritual, brought up that Zevran also loved her, and perhaps she would consider surviving for his sake. Zevran had never spoken of these feelings with Illusen, but overall now I ship her and Zevran together, even if she and Alistair would be more amicable exes in other situations / au's than their own story, where things slowly spiral, get heated, and hateful.

He is bitter, because he hadn't wanted to be king, and he would have loved her and protected their child had he been provided the opportunity; but with her values, she would not have continued to love him if he hadn't lived up to his responsibilities — and not that she still loves him, or at least, loves him the same anyway. Illusen ends up living maybe a decade, maybe less, as a Flemeth figure in the marshes across the sea, while Zevran travels back and forth from Antiva, helping his brothers, and himself, and trying to make a home to lure Illusen and her child out of isolation. Her (initial) continued refusal to leave makes Zevran worry that she will never love him as he does, but they do grow past that as a couple, just as they both become attached to their strange magical child.

This was all inspired by finishing the game, dying, having Illusen's eulogy epilogue, and then being back at camp and being able to complete Zevran's romance dialogues, despite there being no game left to play.

Anyway. I found the version of the wip that includes Zevran's first appearance. It is 13 year old writing, so I'd like to think I've improved, but ... it isn't so different, and thinking about them lately makes me wonder about exploring their story again.

Fantasized se/lf-harm cw, fantasized harm to an unborn child cw?, weird dreams, dreamed animal death cw?, and other weird stuff!

The dream creatures are the three Hawke siblings as birds of pray, Varric as a nug, Flemeth is the dragon, the black bird can either be Zevran or Morrigan, and the halla is Merrill.

.

From the previous chapter in the wip:

"Alistair. I am harbouring an Old God, whether that means it will be born to look as a beast, or simply act like one … I can't think of one person who'd take the risk of having something like this come into existence," Illusen said, but her voice trembled and her eyes swelled up with tears again and she was glad of not having been presented with a knife with her meal, as she would have gouged out her innards in a moment such as this. "Morrigan … She didn't elaborate on what it meant that the child would have the taint and the soul of an Old God - but we know that an archdemon is simply an Old God subject to the taint so we can assume …" "We can assume the worst," Alistair admitted.

.

Weeks passed, and still no decision had been made over the entity Illusen carried. A team of forty Grey Wardens and seven recruits had arrived, and only their eldest was permitted in talks relating to the Hero of Fereldan. He was a good Grey Warden; distant, imposing and righteous. Alman had taken it upon himself to commit to the idea of having Illusen taken to Weisshaupt in chains, possibly Tranquil, to be examined by those who had access to Grey Warden records and sciences. If he did not think her or the child such a danger then considering the alternatives, his was the best option for public opinion.

To Illusen's mild surprise, the Chantry was uninterested in claiming the child for priesthood or imprisonment. It was they who called for a silent execution, to have the Blight right and truly ended. The public was already told that their Hero was ill, that darkspawn plague was the reason she made little to no public appearances while her subtle bulge grew. Meanwhile Irving, ever the absent and failing father, pleaded with the king to force the Chantry to take the charge into their care. The Circle was so unaware of the entirety of the situation that the First Enchanter believed a horrid precedent was being set by the Chantry seeking to slay the child.

King Alistair could not bring himself to clarify the situation to the Circle, as their response was the best he could hope for, and when he met with the authorities of each respective group, he hoped one might sway the other to compromise and save him this decision.

Illusen had spent most of her time confined in one way or another. Even when she was presented to the army or the Wardens for support in reclaiming the Imperial Highway and burning the dead, she did not look for faces she knew. She empathized more than she ever wished to, with Sten and the suffering of a caged mind.

The mage let herself be led from one gathering to another to a bed that brought her more nightmares. They were not those of an aging Grey Warden, but still vivid and disturbing, and grew worse with each lost familiarity. Wynne and Shale were off to Tevinter, Leliana had taken up work with the Chantry and been nominated to lead an expedition after Andraste’s Ashes in her ruined temple, Sten had left by boat before Illusen had even woken that first time, and none of them had said goodbye.

She saw Oghren in the castle from time to time. He looked wearier with each passing week, she thought, but maybe that was just her own perception, but he definitely had less to say as his responsibilities grew. Arl Eamon selected some human soldier to head Fereldan’s armies, but truly it was the dwarf who organized the companies — and the Dalish, so that the remains of the Blight could be dealt with without allies becoming enemies. Each night he was drunk, and Illusen couldn’t help but wonder how Felsi was coping with life at court.

Alistair might’ve started drinking too if he were not such a light weight.

Her troubled sleep, and maybe the babe, had given the mage to napping mid day from time to time. She was no longer confined to quarters, but didn’t much care for the attention she received in Denerim’s Market Square. Wrapped in robes of deep violet, Illusen made her way to Valendrian’s in the Alienage. Despite her humanity, the elves treated her as if her only oddity had been her being a mage. He was good company, and provided a respite from what had become her life. She would rest against the wall in his kitchen while others brewed ingredients she brought in to a hearty stew, to help with the passing of the plague.

Her head swam and dark clouds hovered over her Fade dreams; her mind and world a maze and the same. Two large birds of prey ripped the flesh from a third, masculine in his plumage; he lay dead beneath a tree twisted as if by the blight. A dragon’s shadow swept overhead, but when Illusen’s perception turned to look, she instead saw a nug falling from the sky, swiftly caught in the talons of a mighty bird of prey, leaving its dead and damaged siblings on the ground. Coins flowed from the nug’s mouth like loud destructive rain.

As the bird of prey took them higher and higher, a cage of harsh lyrium closed around them, with sharpened points threatening to tear the strange duo apart. Illusen soon found that she was the dragon and that her wings were rotten and that she was falling onto the pikes of glowing rock and would crush all that was below. Darkness took her, and so too did a warm comforting feeling. Upon opening her eyes Illusen could not say if she were a dragon or a woman or a flea, but she was cradled in the talons of a funny little black bird and could see that the bird of prey and nug were safe in the horns of a halla. She relaxed and felt safe listening to the beating of the black bird’s wings.

She woke with fever; hot and sweating and uncomfortable. She could have whined and cried were she alone, but she remembered her host and fumbled to stand and greet him. The sun still shone in the window and Illusen was glad not to have overslept. The Hero of Fereldan gave her thanks and stepped out into the Alienage.

It was always a test to make it back to the Arl of Denerim’s Estate without being seen, or at least, recognized and this time she had failed before having begun. Zevran stood at the gate, both arms and legs crossed as he leaned on a wall, chatting up a young elf that left as Illusen approached. She could avoid her friend no longer.

"Flirting with the locals?" asked Illusen, her voice more airy and weak than she intended.

"No more than is polite," Zevran replied with cheek as he stood upright. He squinted and turned his head, examining the Warden. "You look pale. Is it true what they say? That you are dying of the darkspawn plague?"

"I ... don’t know," Illusen responded hesitantly. She wondered how she must look, and how she might look if she retched as she crossed her right arm over her chest to hold the back of her neck. She meant to continue her thought but Zevran plowed on.

"Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?"

Her cheeks flushed as she struggled to meet his gaze. ‘Morrigan told me,’ she wanted to say, ‘that which I could not see or appreciate.’ She hadn’t realized Zevran was in love with her and that was shameful enough in itself, but also now to be carrying Alistair’s child, and to be soon hidden from the world for her sins, insulted Zevran’s interest, honour and trust. Illusen absently cradled her stomach with her left arm, and found herself stuttering as she tried to answer.

"Andraste’s Mercy," cursed a familiar voice. Illusen found herself weeping into Zevran’s pauldrons. He held her close, and tightly, so she could not see his expression, but the embrace only had her sob all the harder. She hadn’t allowed herself a good cry for too long, and her body was a jumble of emotions.

Zevran led her into a back alley, one hand on her back and the other grasping one of hers. He had nowhere to take her, but the apartments in the back of the Alienage were still mostly empty and not completely destroyed. A few picked locks later he seated Illusen safely from the public and waited to hear her tale.

She told him more than she expected to, and he listened more attentively than anyone else had since becoming the Hero of Fereldan. He knew everything now, more even than she.

"I saw Morrigan leave, I'll have you know," Zevran contributed as he leaned back in what remained of a chair. Illusen’s expression changed to surprise and he continued, "Those of the army who saw her say she vanished without a trace, but I ask you: what did she have to leave behind? Bah.

"Sten was blinded by your glory, and Leliana worked to kill more darkspawn, but I looked to Morrigan and saw her eyes. She looked hurt ... betrayed," he paused. "Why would you do something so foolish? Why not let her have the child and save your life?"

"I didn’t know what the child would become ... she even refused to call it a child, I don’t even know what it is that grows inside me ... I expected to be stopping an evil ritual not becoming the catalyst for it." Illusen was calmer than she expected. She did not even feel as if she were defending herself or her actions, Zevran simply sought answers, nothing more.

"What will you do?" asked the elf.

"Wait," replied the mage. "I will not fight my order, my king or the Chantry. I will accept their decision."

Zevran cocked an eyebrow before smirking and leaning forward in his chair, "Warden, perhaps you have them convinced, maybe even yourself, but not I. Would you not leave if you had the choice?"

Illusen’s azure eyes examined the elf slowly and she was quiet for a long time. This was why she had been avoiding him, truly. He was her man, through and through, and both of them were nothing after what they’d experienced, not Wardens, nor Crows, or anything respectable. Her lips trembled as she leaned in for the kiss, and she sighed heavily as she pressed her head against his chin and placed a hand on his heart.

"You will take me away won’t you?" she begged.

"When the time is right," he answered.

#oc tag: illusen amell #shut up about the passage of time #my writing

[sea-side-scribbles]

Solas wakes up in the strange new world of his own making and it terrifies him. Frail and confused, he has to learn everything from scratch again. The more he learns, the more the world looks like a nightmare.

When he joins the Inquisition, he figures he's still not strong enough to withstand everything this world throws at him.

In the end, he made too many promises and he can't keep them all.

But who said the Din'anshiral would be easy?

_____________________________________________                                                       

Part 1 | Chapter 1- ? | Right after uthenera, Solas is found by a Dalish clan. This goes well until it doesn't.

(Basically my excuse for world building and hilarious misunderstandings.)

Chapter 5

This time, not even sleep gave Solas comfort. He was running out of time. The slaves would brand him. He didn't know how far he could recover until they considered it to be enough. He needed help. So he reached out for any familiar soul in the beyond.

Unfortunately, it was stubborn. The images didn't stay with him, changed before his very eyes until he began to question his own memories. He wandered through a boundless maze, deeper and deeper into the realm of his dreams until he stopped. Only distorted places and unknown figures surrounded him. He realized he wouldn't find his friends here.

With his last bit of willpower, he pulled himself out of the chaos, back into the peaceful simplicity of his clearing. The spirits didn't visit him this time. His idle curiosity was gone. Instead, he began to think. He had seen the empty sky after all. What if the prison also affected the beyond? What if the slaves or their masters watched him and found out who he tried to reach?

He had to fight for his composure then. So many mistakes in such a short time! He deserved to die! If there wasn't so much at stake... The black city hovered above him like a mockery.

Solas lifted his head to glare at it, but something cold and wet suddenly brushed his face.

Within a glimpse, the beyond disappeared as he gasped awake. A white spot danced in front of him. It grew in multiple branches into the ceiling. After he blinked a few times, the spot took shape and he recognized the halla. A little halla, yet with long antlers, stood over him and poked him with it's nose.

With his clouded mind, Solas struggled to understand, but before he could end a thought, someone else entered his aravel. Another younger person who's vallaslin strangely connected with the halla. “Uh- hello lethal'lin...”, she said quietly and with a sheepish smile. “Don't worry, that's just Rosala. She's very friendly. She's just looking if you're okay.” Solas' gaze were fixed on the animal. “...why?”, he brought out. “...what did I do?” “Nothing.” She waved him off. “Usually, she sleeps next to your aravel with the other halla, but she's...uh...she's very curious. Maybe she saw Halven bring you food in here. Rosala, please...” She gently turned the animal's nose away from him.

“The halla sleep next to my aravel?”, Solas put together. “Yes. They look out for us, you know? They like to stay with our...injured...” she said the last word very quietly and quickly, as if she changed her mind. Louder, she added: “My name is Alhannon, by the way. I'm the Halla Keeper.” Solas eyed her while Rosala made herself comfortable next to him. He felt her warmth against his leg. “You...you gave me this...” Solas meant to look for it, but the tiny halla figure already rested in his hands. “Yeah...” She smiled when she saw it. “I thought it would be nice to have one close to you...before you meet them for real.” Solas held it up, comparing it to Rosala. “This is really her”, he concluded and palpated the figure's snout. “Nose not so wet, though.” Alhannon chuckled and the halla fluttered her ears.

“I...thank you”, Solas then awkwardly said, not knowing if he should thank her or not. “Don't mind it. I just thought you'd like to feel like an elf for once.” Solas furrowed his brows. “The halla are our natural friends, you know? Our bond was created by the gods themselves.” “So I've heard”, Solas replied before she could recite the whole tale again. “Ghilan'nain, was it? I suppose you wear her vallaslin?” “You're right.” She seemed to be glad that he noticed and nodded eagerly. “To me, it was the only dedication that made sense. I already knew I'd be the Halla Keeper one day. I...hang out with my friends all day, what could be better?” Solas smiled, but being reminded of her connection to an Evanuris didn't feel good.

There would have been an awkward pause if Rosala hadn't decided to lay her head on Solas' stomach. “Look, she likes you”, Alhannon said with delight. “I think you could pet her - if you asked her politely.” Solas tried. “May I pet you, Rosala?” The halla gave a quiet squeak and turned her head in his direction. When Solas locked gazes with Alhannon, she nodded eagerly, so he began to cradle the animal behind her ear. She slowly blinked with pleasure. “Oh, she likes that. Where did you learn that?” “I'm just improvising...”, Solas tried to say casually. “A natural talent then...” Alhannon smiled at the peaceful scene in front of her. “I'm sure you'll go along well and she'll stay at your side if you like.”

“Wouldn't her parents miss her?” “Her parents? Why?” “...because they would want their baby back?” “Why? She's not a baby, she's an adult halla. Don't listen to him, Rosala, he doesn't mean it.” The animal gave him a stare. Solas was confused. “Did you shrink her then?” “Creators, no. She's as tall as she needs to be. And she's beautiful.” Alhannon kissed her snout after that. Solas' confusion grew by the second. “But...how do you ride her like this?” “I don't. She's not a horse. Halla live with us. They're part of the family. And if we are nice to them, they pull our aravels.” “...they pull your aravels...”, Solas produced. “Yes, but only if we ask them nicely...and give them some more sweet chestnuts...right, Rosala?” The halla looked at Alhannon with fluttering ears, probably confirming what she said. “You'll see it when we move...don't underestimate their size, they are strong.”

Solas however, didn't doubt their ability to pull a wagon. He questioned the aesthetics. A majestic halla, reduced to...child size and the so-called aravel, a mere shadow of what it should be.

For a moment, he had to press his eyes shut, blending out the world and fighting down his anger. The urge to shout out the truth. But he knew it wouldn't help. It would only make it worse.

If he wanted to save these people, he needed to be smart.

“Are you okay?”, Alhannon's voice broke through his thoughts. “Yes, just a little dizzy...” “Oh creators, I'm sorry! I just trampled in and ran my mouth for hours! I just wanted to see if Rosala bothers you, but you two look fine.” She glanced at the halla that hadn't moved an inch away from Solas. “Wait”, he replied. “Please, stay. I still don't know who you are...Temalas told me about...the creators...”, he struggled to say the world without disgust. “...and that you live in these woods, but I still don't know...Are there more people like you? Do you all live here? Are there bigger settlements? Cities?”

Alhannon wondered if he missed the cities. Hearing former city elf's stories about crowded, dirty places without animals hadn't made her ever want to see them from inside. But if that was all he knew, perhaps he was scared of the forest. “Uh...sorry, there are no elven cities, if that's what you mean. But there are other clans like us. We are scattered all over the land since...” She stopped, realizing the elf couldn't possibly understand her without knowing their history. “Uhm...that's a rather long story...I don't want to make you dizzy again.” “Please, tell me all of it. I feel fine now.” “Uh...alright...But I should...” She turned her head. “Temalas?”

“Yeah?” To Solas' surprise, the First was close enough to hear her. And he climbed inside. “Our lethal'lin asked who we are and...I think he should hear his history from the expert.” “Oh, another lesson, then?” He nodded at Solas “How are you, lethal'lin?” Solas wasn't sure if he should appreciate Temalas' presence. The Keeper's First seemed to have some kind of control over the other slaves and the staff on his back tingled again. Solas had to force himself to ignore it. “Good enough to listen”, was his short answer. “Ah, with a company like this”, the First replied, noticing the halla. “Hello, Rosala.” The animal gave him a quiet squeak, but kept her head on Solas. Sitting down, Temalas crossed his legs and leaned against the wall behind him.

“How about you tell the story this time and I just...make sure you don't forget anything?”, he offered to Alhannon with a smirk. ”So you...what? Sit next to me and judge me? Do you want to embarrass me in front of our new one?” “Hey, if you don't remember this right, everyone will blame me. Like this, I make sure at least two people know their stuff.” She massaged her forehead. “You can't be serious. Rosala, do something.” The halla gave her an innocent look out of round eyes. “She knows the story by heart. She'll judge you, too.” “You think you know her better than me? You're walking on thin ice now.” “I'm just joking. About Rosala, I mean. Not about judging you.” “Great.” She sighed deeply and closed her eyes. “Come on...You can do this...”, he whispered, leaning closer.

Solas watched this strange scene, wondering if Alhannon was actually in danger and if he had to save her. And he wondered if the halla was really here to comfort him.

“Alright....okay...I'll try...” She took a deep breath and began: “All began in the ancient times when the elves lived a peaceful life and the creators were still with them to share their wisdom and to protect them. Back then, elves didn't age, they were immortal. Only the eldest of them would grow tired of life and fall into a peaceful slumber we call uthenera, and then they walked in the beyond alongside the gods Falon'Din and Dirthamen. They would wake up after ages, refreshed and brought the creator's wisdom with them. They lived in cities full of wonders and the most fabled of them was called Arlathan - “this place of love”. The ancient age lasted for millennia.” Solas wondered about the strange mashup of Evanuris' propaganda and more so, about the past tense. Alhannon had spoken rather solemnly. Now, she slouched her shoulders and muttered: “But then the shemlen came and everything fell to shit. Sorry.” Temalas made a face. “Basically true, but could you be more specific?” She sighed. No one saw Solas' ears twitch.

“We don't know where the shemlen came from and why. You probably know them as humans?” She gave him a questioning look. Solas just tilted his head. “Anyway, from then on, the elves began to age and suffered diseases that didn't exist before. And as if that wasn't enough, the shems attacked Arlathan and destroyed it. Because the creators were locked away by Fen'Harel, they couldn't protect us...” She stopped again. “You know about Fen'Harel, right?”

Solas just gave her a stare. Temalas tried to help. “Come on, lethal'lin. The Dread Wolf? The one I'm supposed to protect you from?” But Solas couldn't follow him. “They...destroyed Arlathan?”, he asked with a husky voice. Alhannon furrowed her brows. “Yes...” “That's the burden we have to carry as elves. I'm sure you know how hard life with the shemlen is”, Temalas added with a warm smile. Solas continued to stare, digesting what he heard. “...or you don't...” Temalas eyes widened. He and Alhannon exchanged glances. “What?” Solas blurted out in frustration. What did he do wrong now?

At their startled expressions, he added: “Forgive me... I think I'm confused...So, Arlathan is destroyed? What does that mean?” After glancing at the First, Alhannon answered: “It's gone. Sunk into the ground. They build their own city on top of it.” “A...and the others?” “Probably shared the same fate. Only a few ruins remain and they are a fraction of their old glory. I'm...sorry.” Alhannon eyed him. Usually, the strays they found already knew that shems were bad news and rather found hope and pride in their history. Or they struggled to believe that Arlathan was real. But this elf seemed to believe it right away. He looked as if she presented him the most precious gift and then drew it away, saying it's not for him. Now she regretted being so straightforward.

Solas looked at them both, desperate to catch them lying. They described a horrible scenario and didn't even appear to know. “What are shemlen? Children of the stone?...” He searched for the word. “Dwarves?” His two caretakers locked gazes again. Temalas answered: “Uh...almost...the same round ears, but they are taller, like us...” “...and they live on the surface...” While the elves searched for ways to describe a human, Solas fell quiet, trying to put the image together. His guts hurt and he felt even too sick to cry.

Another war. More scars on the earth. Plundered sacred places. Unbridled power. This prison...was it even of Elvhen creation? No wonder the sins of Fen'Harel looked so far away now. The Evanuris...well, his only relieve was that they weren't involved.

Finally, tears lingered in his eyes and he turned his head away. He heard enough. He wanted them gone. All of them. And their horrible new world. It was all a trick of the beyond. It must have been.

Suddenly, he felt something soft brush his cheek. Deep, black eyes met his own. A flutter of pointed ears. And for a moment, Solas thought she knew. He lost all composure and pressed his forehead against Rosala's. Together, they mourned in silence.

He didn't notice how intensely Alhannon and Temalas watched the scene.

Notes:

Rosala: “enduring”

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #solas/dorian #dragon age solas #dragon age dorian #maker preserve #dalish elves

[star--nymph]

Hello! ✨ For the random headcanon meme if you'd like... For Eury:

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season?

☘ : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?

❀ : What is your muse’s opinion about flower crowns?

♞ : What is your muse’s favorite animal?

Of course feel free to skip those questions you may not wish to answer! :3

Oh! So many!! I'm so excited thank you!!

(leaving out ❀ and ☘ cause I answered in another ask)

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season?

Summer! The season she can do what ever she wants. Everything is bright and new, there's plenty of fruit and vegetables to harvest, she doesn't have to wear layers. She can sit in the sun or in the shade, the nights are cool and all the best bugs and animals are out to observe. No one comes looking for her either. She could spend hours alone in the beautiful green forest on her own and be at peace. Also it is her birthday season and she really doesn't care about that but it does feel as if she and the summer are interconnected because of it.

♞ : What is your muse’s favorite animal?

Halla halla halla halla halla!!!! HALLA! Eurydice loves hallas more than anything in the world. She loves every mount and most, if not all animals (I really can't think of any she hates, actually) but halla? Halla and her special. There were and still are her hyperfixation since she was a toddler with her grandmother telling her stories of halla and the great Ghilan'nain. They were her only friends, her refuge from the loud and complicated world that judged her for not doing the right things at the right time or speaking oddly. Halla don't care about eye content or touch, they don't demand you to act in certain ways or yank on your for standing wrong, they only ask for respect and kindness. They have let her rest on their flank when she was small, wrapping around her like she was their own kin. That's the saddest thing about her magic: it stole her dreams away. Had she never been a mage, she would have become a Halla Mistress with her sister and she would have been so caught. The day the Keeper caught wind of her first flame was the day Eurydice lost her bonds to the halla and Melia. She has never been able to hold either the way ever again. They are fascinating creatures with an intelligence most can not begin to comprehend. Legends speak of a mabari and its bond to its master, but never is much spoke of when a halla and an elf share one heart, one mind. When one is bonded with a halla, there is nothing else like it. They speak to each other through look and feeling alone. And they're kind. They accept so many wounded creatures to their herd and care for them. They are graceful in their deadliness; to be at the end of their sharp horn is to die an agonizing death. And gosh are they funny, silly things. Not many things can make Eurydice giggle, but halla do every time just by chew on her hair. Fun fact: when she found the halla in the Exalted Plans, she was so happy she refused leave for days. Eventually, when not even a note from Cullen could get her to go, Bull had to pick her up and carry her away. She didn't talk to him for two weeks.

#eurydice lavellan #writing #SHE LOVES HALLA A LOT

[fadedapparition]

THINKING about aggro!hawke merrill friendmance

you’ve just gotten booted out of your clan, you’re struggling to adjust to life in this terrible alienage, everything is new and scary, and now there’s a gigantic, terrifying human woman following you around.

and she won’t leave you alone. she shows up at your house. she’s like “merrill. i have need of you” and it turns out she wants you to blood magic people to death because she doesn’t give a shit about the taboo so long as it’s an efficient way to murder things. she’s no blood magician herself, but she’s definitely doing some kind of weird warrior shit with blood, and she scares everyone in the city of chains except her sister, who seems totally oblivious to the fact that her elder sibling is an actual mass murderer. you ask beth what the fuck is wrong with this lady and she goes “ha ha, you know how big sisters are!” as if it’s normal for those to massacre 15 men in front of you and go “would you like a trophy?” before needing to be talked out of collecting heads.

you try to get a little you-time at the market but this lady teleports in next to you like “is this man bothering you? no, don’t answer - of course he is. i’ll dispatch him” and you have to explain to her that this is the vendor you buy eggs from. she spends the rest of the day following you around. you’re like “hey, uh, don’t you have… shit to do” and she goes “my place is by your side” while making the fucking scariest face you’ve ever seen. her sword is the size of her whole body and she swings it around like it weighs as much as a broomstick. there is blood perpetually crusted to her face.

i think that when merrill gets her first gift, part of her assumes this is some kind of elaborate human death threat. wooden halla? like in a “i’m gonna ghilan’nain your ass” kind of way? when you say “merrill, i… am immensely fond of you. i will kill and die at your command” is that part of the threat? wat going on

#aia hawke #merrill #in which merrill is unsure if she is being courted or bullied #dragon age

[spainkitty]

Halamshiral Fiasco Aftermath

Results: doesn't find the locket; wants to blackmail briala and Gaspard so Briala could control the throne, but she said "detain the duchess" in the end; saves Celene, but Briala is exiled and Lanil tries to protest, but: "That's how the Game is played, Inquisitor." -Briala

Lanil's Pieces Masterlist

"She looked very satisfied with herself..." Cullen said rather warily, looking over his shoulder as Morrigan disappeared into the crowded ballroom.

"Hopefully you can get used to that, since she'll be at Skyhold looking that way for a while." Cullen leaned on the railing next to her and gave her a bemused glance. "She's the royal liaison to the Inquisition now."

"Andraste wept." Cullen scrubbed a hand over his face and Lavellan smirked.

It fell from her lips too quickly, and she returned to the dark horizon. Beautiful as it was, she couldn't appreciate a single line of its rolling hills or the distant glitter of the Waking Sea.

"Today was a victory, Inquisitor. So why do you look so... disappointed?" Cullen asked. His hand touched her arm, so lightly she barely felt it, but every bit of built up tension released on a breath at the gentle pressure.

"I am disappointed. In myself. I was so... so furious that she tricked me, that Corypheus was so close to winning because I'm a moron, that I didn't follow through. I could've done something unprecedented here. I could have caused a fundamental shift in power, a real change for the People, my People, and it could've changed everything. But my pride was wounded, and I was angry, and I wanted Corypheus to fail in every possible way. I..." She pressed her face into her scarred hand, not noticing that her other arm stayed under Cullen's hand that rested heavier, steadier, on her. "I should've... I hate myself for this, but all I can think is, I should've let her die. Mythal help me, I'm a mons--"

"You're not. Don't say that, you're not." Her hand dropped and she turned to him. He was so close to her now, she smelled his soap, could see the shadow of his facial hair already growing back along his jaw, felt how much warmer his hand was than hers where it now rested, holding on tightly. She leaned in closer, bending like a flower towards the sun as his eyes blazed as brightly. "Whatever your reasons, in the end you did save a woman's life. In fact, saving her saved hundreds down the line. There was no guarantee Leliana's blackmail plan would work forever--"

"This is Leliana we're talking about, right?"

"I mean it. I did think Gaspard would be an easier ruler. Of anyone here, he's the only one I understand." Lavellan huffed in amusement. "But in the end, he would've driven Orlais into war. He believed in expansionism and he would've kept pushing for it until someone else took his throne, by force or not."

"But... Cullen, you..." She stopped, huffed again, and grabbed his hand. He stiffened, but she already jerked him around to face her completely. "The Emerald Graves, the Plains, Emprise du Lion, the Dales, whatever name they give its chunks and pieces, it's all graves. Graves of my People, my history, my culture. This place where we're standing, they clutter it with their bastardized halla statues and call it Halamshiral, and they see only their victory. Their righteous claim to what isn’t theirs. And I could've won some of it, just a little of it, back, and I didn't. I failed thousands of the People tonight. I can't take it back. I can't pull out an amulet and time travel back a few hours to fix it. It's done. It's over. My People lost because of me."

"Lavellan... Lane." He said it softly, as if he didn’t have a right to it. She startled. She hadn't known he'd heard her friends use that. He took both her hands in his, his thumbs tracing soothingly over her palms, and she shook like a spooked horse even as she leaned closer.

"You didn't see yourself, but I did. I saw you, a Dalish elf and apostate mage, stand beside an Empress. I saw you woo a castle full of nobles with charm and guile I didn't even know you were capable of."

"Neither did I," she whispered hoarsely.

He chuckled, squeezed her hands reassuringly.

"They heard you, we all did. You stood equal with an empress, above everyone else in that stupidly golden room," she smirked, "and you won them all to your side. Or almost everyone. And if they didn't want to be on your side politically, they still fell in love despite themselves."

She glanced up, shocked. But he was smiling, that shy smile that reminded her of their chess games. The genuine one she liked to remember when she sat in her empty room in Skyhold and the silence got too loud.

"Briala didn't get her power, and you lost some of it with her, but you have power all your own and you used it tonight. Everyone in there will remember that moment, remember how you spoke, and they'll see all elves differently. Because of you."

"But I... I could've done it better. If I tried a little harder--"

"We all think that. But you'll shatter if you keep throwing yourself at that mountain. You just have to try and do better on the next one."

Cullen's gaze didn't waver, nor did his smile. Lavellan's eyes darted over his face, taking in every honest and earnest inch of it, and, after a pause, nodded. She closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled. Then, she tightened her hands around Cullen's.

"You can call me Lane, if you want. I like it. Sera was really proud of herself, too."

"It's cute."

Lavellan opened her eyes to stare at him. He cleared his throat and looked away, his hands pulling out of her grip so fast she almost got yanked forward.

"I apologize that was inappropriate--"

"Why?" Lavellan smiled crookedly. "It is cute."

Cullen was smiling at her again, his face a little pink. He ducked his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. He glanced once towards the ballroom, grimacing, then around the balcony where they stood. Lavellan tilted her head, baffled and amused.

"Cullen?"

"I probably shouldn't, but I'd be a fool not to while I have the chance. I probably won't get another," he muttered, squaring his shoulders.

"Wha--" She broke off as he held out his hand.

"Would you care to dance, Lady Lavellan?"

"I thought you didn't dance?" Lavellan blurted as she reached her own hand out.

"I don't. I'm terrible honestly," Cullen admitted.

But their hands clasped and he pulled her closer, picture perfect posture. His hand shook in hers as his other arm set carefully at her waist. She set her hand on his chest, and realized how short she was, how much smaller, even with all his armor and fur ruff gone.

She would've glowered at the thought, but she was too busy grinning. He was just so nervous.

"It's all right, I've had plenty of practice."

"You were beautiful--dancing. I mean your dancing was... Maker's breath."

She laughed.

"Okay, here we go," he muttered. He actually counted under his breath, and Lavellan couldn't stop gazing at him, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. Luckily, his focus was on his big clumsy feet. Although that didn't stop him from tripping and stepping on her foot once. "See, this why--I'm sorry--"

"No, it's okay, here." She stepped so close their chests pressed together, and she put each foot right up against the inside of his boots. She heard him swallow, and she wondered if he'd hurt himself doing that. And also why? Was he thirsty? She tucked his arm tighter around her and then nodded, satisfied. "There, I'll move with you. You can't step on me if we move together."

"R-right."

She glanced up, and blinked. They were so close her nose brushed his jaw.

"Oh, is this uncomfortable for you?"

"No. No, this is fine," he said, his voice a little rough and low.

Something sparked hot in her belly and she frowned. That was... strange. Also strange was how nice this was. Being so close, his arms and hands so warm, his voice almost tangible against the point of her ear as he whispered the count. She smiled, ignoring the odd shivers and low burn, and counted with him.

"One two three, one two three, one two three FOUR." She laughed the last word as he stumbled and involuntarily tugged her against him hard enough for them both to grunt.

"Four? Why is it four?"

"This is Orlais, my dear, of course nothing makes sense," she replied in her snootiest Vivienne impression.

He laughed, and his breath against her neck had goosebumps running down her spine.

"That's it. No more Orlesian nonsense. We'll dance like normal people."

"Normal?" She repeated, then oofed in surprise when he all but swept her off her feet, spinning her around before moving into easy, flowing steps. "What dance is this?"

"Ferelden. So the better kind of dance," he told, grinning like the boy of Honnleath he once had been. She smirked, stepping back when he did, only connected by their hands. They turned in a circle, spun on a foot, and turned the other way, their other hands now held between them at face level.

"It really is simple. It's as if I already know it," Lavellan said, smiling as they dipped and weaved in a small circle.

They turned and came together again. They weren't even listening to the music. They just danced, eyes never leaving the other, movements sure and free, smiling in actual fun. Then, came a moment.

Or maybe A Moment.

They had been smiling, easy and simple, hands clasped. And then they raised their arms, held them across their torsos, shoulder to shoulder, bodies facing opposite directions but faces towards each other. And they turned in a circle. They weren't ignoring the music anymore. There was no music at all. No night breeze. No distant titters and gossips or fake laughters. There wasn't a palace or a balcony beneath their feet.

Lavellan saw and heard only him. Felt only his hands in hers, his arm around her and her arm around him, and the beat of her heart was like thunder. She couldn't take in a breath, couldn't turn her face or blink. Because he was gazing at her just as intent, just as silent, and she wondered if her heart was really that loud, or was she hearing both of theirs at the same time.

She was warm from her head to her toes, even her ears tingled as the blush crept over her.

An unsteady breath through her parted lips broke the silence an eternity later. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and the warmth was a fire, an inferno, greedily burning her whole body through.

They moved out of the position, hands slipping, bodies parting. Lavellan shivered as if suddenly cold, but she was still burning. Both his hands gripped her hips and, before she could blink, lifted her up and spun her around.

"What!" She burst into a squawk of laughter, completely undignified, and clutched at his shoulders. "We're supposed to bow!"

"My sister says it's not a real dance if it doesn't end with a spin," Cullen explained with that special shy smile.

"I think I'd like her," Lavellan said. She didn't protest him slowly letting her back down on her own feet, but she kept her hands on his shoulders, not ready yet to let go of this strange new excitement inside her.

"She'd like you. She does actually. I write about you," he admitted, glancing away and then back. Fighting his own shyness to keep looking at her.

"You write to your sister about me?" she asked, too softly.

"So she doesn't believe all the nonsense or only see the Herald of Andraste. You're... you. I want her to know you."

The world under Lavellan's feet shifted. Turned. Pitched her headfirst. But she didn't know where she was landing. Not yet.

"I like you, too," Lavellan murmured. The words didn't sound right, they weren't the ones she meant, but she did mean them. And the look of pleased shock on Cullen's face made her want to say it again. So she did. "I like you a lot. You're a good man, Cullen. Thank you for... being you. I think?"

"I. Um. Thank you. I agree. I mean, thank you, I like you. Too. Maker's breath. Why am I such a fool?" He scrubbed a hand over his face and Lavellan laughed.

"You're not a fool. I'm surprised you're so shy about it. I only said I liked you. I didn't even pinch your bottom," Lavellan teased.

"By the Holy Chant, I'd nearly forgotten about that."

"That poor comtesse or duchess or whatever. She'll be heartbroken you forgot her already."

"Please, stop."

Lavellan hooked her arm through his and began marching him towards the ballroom.

"It's time to go back to your adoring public. Or they'll come hunt you down and I'll be blamed for stealing you away. All my hard-won approval lost forever."

"You're a sadist aren't you."

Lavellan only grinned and dragged him onward. She didn't notice the fond gaze he leveled on her, heeding no one but her as they made their way back into the perfumed and bejeweled masses.

#dai lavellan #dai cullen rutherford #cullen x lavellan #lets be real sera had it right Inky is on top bc positions #halamshiral dance #Ridiculously cheesy and sweet #you know after the conversation about failure and lost culture #Lanil's Pieces #long post #kitty writes a thing #i told yall i had 60k of this right #it takes until AFTER Before the Dawn before they even kiss #slow buuuuurrrrnnnn

[urthemiiel]

stuff about my warden june mahariel i am feeling the need to talk about him

- he had just turned 20 at the start of the blight

- he’s a mage!! an apprentice healer in the sabrae clan. he’s extremely gifted in healing magic but.. Less so with other magic. he’d never had interest in fighting anyways

- he was always a very quiet child. he’s not necessarily shy he just doesn’t feel the need to speak a whole lot. he also seems to move around silently and can go completely unnoticed if he wants to

- the way he speaks is usually kinda odd and cryptic. the keeper once even compared him to a spirit bc of the way he talks and also the fact that he is incredibly perceptive of the feelings and pain of other ppl. his clan is used to him being a lil peculiar but its very different when he has to try to interact with humans as a warden. he never really cares about being socially correct though

- his favorite part of the camp was the halla pens, he could usually be found curled up the in grass asleep or sitting and carving some trinket out of a piece of wood

- him and tamlen… were in luv. they were very in tune with each other and since june could sometimes be a little naive and always too curious about everything tamlen was always kinda protective of him. june was Very attached to him and Big time blames himself for tamlens death, it was his curiosity that led them to that eluvian, and tamlen had even pulled him away from touching it first

- he Hated duncan at first. he’s always been especially wary and sometimes even frightened of humans, and he could not believe that tamlen was actually gone just bc a human said so. the only reason anyone was able to get him to stop searching for him was bc the sickness made him pass out again

- duncan had to invoke the right of conscription and even then june tried to refuse. he thought if he was going to die he’d rather die at his own home. it seemed like a huge betrayal to him at the time that the keeper would send him off with a human like that. he lost tamlen and then felt like he was being abandoned by his clan too and it was very devastating and scary

- after duncan basically dragged him to ostagar he barely spoke at all, he hated alistair at first too and every question alistair asked him was met with silence and a blank stare. he was dealing with horrible grief, homesickness, and being in a completely unfamiliar environment surrounded by rude humans. it felt like bitter irony that he was the only one to survive the joining

ok ill stop there but ill probably do another post ab him sometime i have so many ideas for him……

#im rotating him in my mind rn #i want to start actually posting ab my ocs instead of just reblogging… #so heres a start #mahariel

[boo-moved]

8, 15, 27, 36 & 42 please? 💜

!!!! Hi omg thnk you so much <333333

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals?

As a baby Din was never allowed pets, but the Halla adored him

as an adult? The have a dracolisk and a dragon <3

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

Din does cook, he doesn't do it often though, he uhhh, how do I say this, he doesn't have the patience for it <3

He is quite good at it though, everyone loves his cooking

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?

OOOOOOO THIS IS A GOOD ONEEE

Din is repressed in all ways of the word, Bull has used the words 'emotionally constipated' on more than one occassion

the only emotion you can see on Din is anger, and then you could taste it, feel it, it engulfs you

when sad or distressed, he covers it with anger and self-isolates, beating himself up for having an emotional reaction His brother used to joke that Din was born without tear ducts

36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?

It is good at killing, sneaking, and feeling guilty! It enjoys sharpening blades, fighting practice, and mournfully yearning inprivate. It has never tried, but yes, it can

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?

Din's goal is to save his friends, push them away, and die They have failed with the second part!

He would sacrifice anything for the one's it loves, it's family

Secret ambition? Solas

#THANK YOU SO MUCHHHHH #Dinlaselan Laim #asks

[yellow-faerie]

For day 5 of @tolkienocweek!

Featured are Finróna Aþumolor, son of Findis Finwiel and Rilyanixë Aringolo; his foster children Henlaurë, Nityalma and Tário; and Elerrína, the daughter of his good friends Elwing of Doriath and Eärendil the Mariner, whom he is caring for while her parents are otherwise disposed.

#I have so many headcanons for Finrun and these lot #basically he adopts a bunch of children who died and who’s parents aren’t in Valinor #and aren’t going to be there/alive for a long time #because Námo was like ‘you’re used to big families right?’ #Henlaurë and Nityalma are both Sindarin and born in Nargothrond #but they die at it’s sacking and their parents were both kinslayers and so are (as of yet) not able to reembodied #in Middle Earth they went by their Sindarin names (Henglor and Pínloth) #but they change to Quenya in Valinor both to stick with current customs and because it’s different and doesn’t remind them of what’s lost #Tário (or Hallas in Sindarin) is the second son of Angrod and Edhellos conceived before the kinslaying and born on the ice #he lives about three hours before he succumbs to the cold #Angrod is being barred from life due to the oath and exiles and everything and Edhellos is grieving in Middle Earth by raising sheep #so neither of them have any apparent desire nor ability to return and as Hallas is technically his family #after they’ve grown up a bit more children come by and in and it’s a good thing for Finrun’s character arc #which is all about the grief of losing his family and stuff #and Elrín (Elerrína) is the daughter of Elwing and Eärendil who technically live with Finrun #(he offered Elwing a bed for the night and before Olwë could come took them to his house and they just never left) #but Eärendil is either asleep or flying and Elwing is away at all sorts of events and stuff (I think she’s a bit of a social butterfly) #and so (particularly when Elrín is little) Finrun end up looking after her as well #anyway that’s the gist of it - I love these people (all my OCs) and would love to answer any questions on any of them! #Finrun #Henlaurë #Nityalma #Hallas #Elrín #My OCs #Silmarillion #Tolkien #Fanart #tolkienocweek #My Stuff

[jz-chaosden]

May I have your attention please

It is on. Oh, it is ON! Joining the endless amount of Star Wars OCs is my own creation, Halla E'Shiin. Hold on, it's about to get really sad... Sooo little bit about her…

Halla grew up just above the lower parts of Coruscant. Halla’s mom was a lower c-list actor who took the rush of sudden fame not too well. One might say it was only a matter of time before she would have left Halla’s father, a quiet but deep down kind hearted man, and her toddler daughter for a washed-up, surgery endured, middle-aged, once-upon-a-time-star-actor sort of character. Her husband, heartbroken and undoubtedly overstrained by raising a child, shut down even more after that. Although he tried his best to hide it, Halla couldn’t help but notice that the amount of empty alcohol bottles seemed to increase within the years.

Her father loved her very much and would therefore not see it that his daughter grew up neglected, hence he hired a nanny to take care of her, since he wasn’t able to look at the little girl who resembled her mother so much.

Many years went by and when Halla was around 16, she finally came to realize the extent of problematic choices her father made over the years.

Apparently, the loan shark, that her father has engaged in to cover the bills, came to their apartment not satisfied about the delay in payback. Halla ran away that night, thinking that her father has succumb to his injuries. Luckily, she found out later that he survived but sadly forbid her to return to him until he got everything sorted out.

With a sour feeling of betrayal, Halla proceeded to live on the streets for over a year, stealing, cheating, lying just to have something to eat. When the war broke out, her reign of being one of the most skilled thieves in this sector of Coruscant came to an end as she got caught by an intelligence officer when she tried to snitch his wallet.

He gave her two choices: sign up for a medical project for civilians aiding the clone army, or be left free to go back to the underworld, only that she would be monitored for any criminal behaviour. Halla knew, if they kept track of her activities, she wouldn’t be able to eat in the end of the day. And if she wasn’t able to steal, she would have to resort to another way of making money - one that she has been lucky enough to dodge as a pretty girl of 17 years.

So she joined the military. Becoming a nurse didn’t come easy but lucky for Halla she was smart enough and has always been a quick learner. And it quickly became very clear that she was insanely good at her new job. Unfortunately for her, the streets have given her somewhat of a rude attitude.

After being tossed around several medical divisions due to her insubordinate, sassy, downright loudmouthed behaviour, she ended up in the 1012th MED being stationed with the 501st and quickly came into contact with the infamous Torrent company, where she made it into an art to be utterly and completely annoyed and concerned at the same time (Hardcase:‘I wasn’t hurt that badly. The doc’ said all my bleeding was internal. That’s where the blood’s supposed to be.’ Halla: *worried nurse noises*). This has gotten to a point where you can practically feel the ‘I will roast your sorry ass till I bite the dust but force have mercy on the soul that DARES to hurt you in any kind of way’ vibe radiating off her.

Halla presents herself as calm and collected, the ’this one nurse who’s seen everything’ type of nurse who ran out of shits to give a long time ago. Don’t want to take your meds? Oh no, they’re going down, sweetheart. Purposely dodging shots at check-ups? Don’t think about it. Halla used to live on the streets. She will fight you if she has to (Fives learned the hard way: they ended up with her wrestling him to the ground. Echo found it hilarious. Fives less so. They were ARCs after all).

Halla is not really known for being touchy, except for a very limited circle of friends she came to trust over time. She has stated on several occasions that she doesn’t DO feelings (except when she does). She gets flustered very easily but will heavily deny it, whether it will be because of serious feelings towards someone or the simple fact that the girl just needs a hug. (Hardcase has at one point started a sweepstake in the 501st whether or not Halla and Fives had caught feelings for each other despite their constant bickering because ‘oh come on, look at them, they are clearly doing it!!’ - they weren’t - not yet at least)

#star wars #clone wars #incorrect clone wars quotes #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #fives and echo #clone trooper headcanons #clone trooper hardcase #my oc character #my oc tag #my ocs are my children #my ocs are my babies #501stlegion #lets do this #halla eshiin #I WOULD DIE FOR HER #AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME #trashcompacted

[the-goblin-friend]

Sketchy doodles before work of some characters I have fallen in love with.

Datura (@wingcinna)

Halla (@linaisbluepancake)

Illain (@lazyvoyager)

#my art #illain #halla #datura #i love them okay #i would die for every one of them

[inquisimer]

Heya! I bring you a prompt on this fine Friday! From the "Untranslatable words" list:

24. Fernweh (German): Feeling homesick for a place you have never been to.

For the muse that strikes your inspiration :D

Hello and happy friday!! Thank you for the prompt<3

pairing(?): sari mahariel x alistair (sari's first timeline)

@dadrunkwriting

They were picking their way through the Brecillian Forest and Sari’s heart was aching and she had no fucking idea why. She’d been cycling between loneliness and adrenaline with little break between since the Keeper had handed down her sentence, which was why she’d insisted they go to the Dalish first, despite what Alistair said about Eamon. Surely what she needed was the aravels around her, and the comforting warmth of the halla, and the familiar chiding of the hahren’s parables.

But she found no solace with Zathrian’s clan. She brushed it off as the sinking feeling that Zathrian wasn’t telling her the whole truth, but really her heart hadn’t lifted in the slightest when she saw the camp. She was missing something other than solidarity of her clan and she didn’t know what it was and it was driving her insane.

So lost in her thoughts, she tripped over a poorly-concealed snare along the path to the werewolves’ lair. Her reflexes were dulled by introspection and she would have been caught in the trap, if not for the gauntlet that clenched around the straps of her armor and jerked her back. She thudded against Alistair’s chest, breath knocked from her lungs as his other arm came up to steady her descent.

“Steady there,” he murmured, hands on her shoulders guiding her to a stable position. She let him, and didn’t stop to think about how her heartbeat slowed or the anxious ache in her throat eased in that moment. Not then, at least.

Morrigan, at least, was happy with the outcome. That should have been a red flag, but Sari was so bitter she couldn’t bring herself to care about Zevran and Wynne were stewing in the back or the unfathomably sad looks Alistair kept shooting her way. She’d come to the Dalish in search of comfort and familiarity; she’d been slapped in the face with Zathrian’s hate and cynicism. The empathy she felt for the werewolves just reinforced the sneaking suspicion she’d had since Ostagar.

She didn’t belong with the Dalish. Not anymore.

But the ache in her heart didn’t ease, didn’t disappear with the understanding that she had no home to return to anymore. What was she longing for, what did her heart know existed that her mind had never heard of? How could she hurt so much for something she’d never known?

Alistair found her by the fire one night. He’d been dreaming of the archdemon; she knew, because he was always pensive after the nightmares, and she’d been having them too. He joined her watch, unbidden, and in uncharacteristic silence.

He didn’t approve, she knew. The slaughter of an entire clan wasn’t her proudest moment, and she knew that it would haunt her for years to come. But the apathy, how Zathrian had been willing to let his clanmates die rather than sacrifice his foolish pride—it was everything the shems said the Dalish were, and everything she’d spent her life believing they were not.

A betrayal begets a betrayal, as it were.

Alistair didn’t berate her for her choice. Good, since it would have been easy to throw back in his face how he’d refused responsibility, handed her the reins, knowing full well that she was untrained and headstrong and emotional. He pressed his leg against hers and lightly looped his arm around her, tightening it when she didn’t pull away, so they were fit against each other like puzzle pieces.

Sari felt the anxious beat of her heart still and the ache in her throat recede. His scent filled her senses and blocked out the concern and the plotting and the consequences. He smelled like polish and Wynne’s homemade soap and his warmth flooded more than her skin. She tilted her head back to observe him and though his gaze was fixed on the fire, the blush spreading across his neck said that he felt her looking.

Whatever had been beating against her soul, the pieces that had cracked when she left with Duncan, slotted into place. Maybe she was fated to love only Blighted things, or to Blight the things she loved. She thought of Tamlen, and the danger she should have protected him from. This wasn’t quite that; it was something she’d never known, but longed for nonetheless. A question she hadn’t known to ask, but Alistair answered anyway.

It would undoubtedly burn her in the end. But as the Keeper always said: she thrived in the fire.

#dadwc #my writing #alistair x mahariel #warden x alistair #oc: sari mahariel #dragon age #dao #filled prompts