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mightymizora · 7 months

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Tagged by the wonderful @rowanisawriter in this very cool game:

rules: pick up to 10 characters and share one of your favorite lines of dialogue you have ever written for them!

Tagging @thievinghippo @senseandaccountability @leiflitter @commander-krios @persephoning and anybody else who wants to play! It's a good meme!

Going to try and stick to in-game characters, too many lines for my gals.

The Iron Bull, Dragon Age from a fictober prompt

“The things you add, that’s the easy part.” he replied. “The part that’s hard? What you’ve lost to get there. And that’s not always physical. Losing my eye hurt way less than realising that some idiot was willing to take it over something so stupid.”

2. Sten, Dragon Age, Asit tal-eb, the way things are meant to be

“The rain here is… particular.” He knelt beside her, pulling her into his side with a sweep that almost knocked her off her feet. “In Seheron, the rains can be strong enough to sweep you away. It can rain for days. When the night comes and the sun disappears, the cold can get into the bones of any solider, no matter how accomplished he may be.” She could feel the strength of his body against hers, and the warmth of it spreading along her entirety. He looked down on her, his eyes catching the first rays of dawn that hit them from the horizon. “And you, Kadan, are a small and untested thing.”

3. Raleigh Samson, Dragon Age, again a fictober prompt

“That didn’t stop you before,” came the gruff answer as Samson struggled to sit upright. “You were a wet boy with a head full of demons and thought nothing of letting them ravage your command, your charges. So maybe asking yourself if you are is the best thing you’ve done in your poxy command, did you think of that?”

4. Merrill, Dragon Age, An Educational Experience (which I will always regret not finishing!

“Of course, I could be talking about the old Arishok or the new Arishok, or any of the other Arishok’s too I suppose, but I only know the big horny- I mean, the one with all the- and the other one, without the horns. Those are the two I know. I’m not really very well read on Qunari. If there’s even records. I don’t know, I’ve never looked Are there? But I meant the old one, anyway. Not that new one. Who travelled with Mahariel, is that right? The hero of Ferelden, I mean. To me, he’ll always be Mahariel. I can’t imagine him having the patience to be friends with a Qunari. No offense. I mean… He was always very quick to temper, always very passionate, not like… Oh dear, I’ve put my foot in it now. I’m sure you’re very nice. You seem quite nice, Serah The Iron Bull-"

5. Gale Dekarios, BG3, Breath and Rosewater

“You have treated me with nothing but care, with compassion,” he says as he pushes himself up further, his breath heavier just from that small effort. “You have borne things from me that no others would. You have entertained my silly ideas, you have indulged me in a number of ways and shared with me wonderful gifts. You have been an extraordinary surprise to me.”

6. Enver Gortash, BG3, Control

“Let me drape the curve of your hip in the finest silk,” he says, squeezing the flesh of her in a golden hand, the Netherstone tantalisingly in reach. “Let me adorn these blooded fingers with diamonds, with rubies.”

7. Halsin, BG3, The First Leaf on the Tree after Winter

“I no more seek to replace the memory of your husband than you seek to forget him,” Halsin says, pulling away and taking her hand in his. “He lives in you, and I love the presence of him in you. There is no need from me, aside from to be in your company, for as long as you would like it. Even if it is just for this morning.”

8. Jaheira, BG3 The First Leaf on the Tree after Winter

“I am here, Halsin. As I promised I would be. Am I to mount some kind of grand seduction now? Play the coquette?”

9. Sceleritas Fel, BG3, Even if Love

Why yes, Master. He understands that the Black Hand can be cut from the flesh by the instrument of murder! He is right to [apologise]. It was excellently done.

10. And finally, Ketheric Thorm, Bg3, Blood and Bone, Bone and Blood

“If that is what you think care is, child, then I pity you,” he says, as his arms wrap around her one last time.

#thank you!#writing tag #also HOW do I have no Blackwall #so much of my writing is him but it's all really internal lmao #some of it has literally no dialogue #listen I really like qunari #that’s also what I am learning

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perilegs · 1 year

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im doing a rerun of my canon da:o playthrough and. does someone want to read my notes on my mahariel so far. bc here they are

ok so my canon warden is Atish’an Mahariel (it’s her name bc I'm finnish and Rauha (lit. peace) is a common old woman name here so i thought it'd be funny). she has a vallaslin representing Sylaise. (here’s her toyhouse for a pic but there’s pretty much no text there (at least not any that’s not written here anyways)

Origin:

Killed one of the humans as an example. She can be very distrustful of humans near her clan.

Cocky, Brash, blunt, very sure of herself, kinda rude and a menace, loves her mom (Ashalle).

Is protective of the clan but like, physically, not verbally. As in, she will eliminate physical threats or ruffle a kid’s hair for doing a good job or put in extra effort to ask someone how they’re doing and sitting with someone if they seem like they need it or whatever. She does care. But she’s not going to say how much she cares out loud. She prefers to show it in other ways. Ati would find herself flustered if she actually had to tell someone how much love she has. That’s embarrassing. She can sometimes be a bit less emotionally stunted around those she trusts. (this is something she improves on during the game a bit but it takes a long time)

“When mommy elf and a daddy elf love each other very much…” upon asked how the dalish came to be

Cannot bear the thought that maybe there was something that she could have done to stop Tamlen’s fate. “Why are you looking at me like that. It’s not my fault.” Very defensive about it.

Don’t cast me away, please

“I don’t want to lose you too.” Did the keeper have to say that. Ati already felt guilty about Tamlen. It would be later when Ati realized the keeper was right, it wouldn’t benefit anyone if she just decided to die in her clan. The keeper seems to hold the Grey Wardens in high regard.

Dragged out of the clan, kicking and screaming. Not really, she gave some very teary “I don’t wanna go, please this is all i’ve ever known” goodbyes. It was highly uncharacteristic of the overconfident Atish’an. She was always very sure of herself and raring to go and explore the world, and so very inquisitive, loving to ask questions about anything and everything from the clanmates who did trading with human villages.

Ostagar:

The trip to Ostagar made Ati a bit numb bc she realized there’s really no fighting her fate. More worn out than angry by Ostagar. Clearly unhappy. Still hostile to most, since i guess hostility and overconfidence are the only two acceptable emotions to show to the outside world.

I am no friend of yours, human lord

Finds Alistair alright, maybe a bit annoying (she does not realize they’re both Like That)

Alistair is a major history buff, knows everything about blights, grey wardens, and old gods. That’s cool! Ati WILL ask him about Everything

Definitely respected Morrigan at first meeting, she could see she was not like most humans, she felt closer to her kind than other humans. Morrigan is a random woman living in the woods and we were the ones who stumbled upon her area. Her mother seems alright albeit a bit. strange...

Tower of Ishal: confused as to tfs going on, she was dragged out of her clan to hold a torch so obviously she’s pissed but something’s not right.. The action is a nice change of pace and helps Ati forget other things.

Seeing something like the darkspawn orge is enough to change a woman. If the blight isn’t stopped and darkspawn roam Ferelden. What if one of those showed up to her clan? Atish’an doesn’t even dare to think about it.

Hearing Morrigan tell her the battle was lost, Ati’s stomach dropped. She felt helpless, but she wouldn’t give up on her clan this easily. She couldn’t disappoint them any more. It would have been humiliating to return now, all of her crying and anger in vain. She can’t yet again be the reason even more of her clanmates lives are lost.

Definitely respects Flemeth for reasons unknown. Ati thinks she has a strange, powerful vibe to her.

Seeing Morrigan’s mother cast her away in such a manner made Atish’an feel a pang in her heart. Morrigan was like her, yearning to experience what it was like outside her home, but not wanting to leave when it came to it. Ati admired Morrigan’s strength in how she handled the matter. Ati decided she’d stick close to Morrigan. Never thought a human could be so similar to herself.

Lothering:

“yea might as well” type of attitude towards helping people. ati finds it strangely rewarding + it’s not like doing that is making the blight stronger

“Blood isn’t all that important” @ Bodahn :’)

Ati decided she might as well get to know her companions a bit at camp since she’s going to have to stick them for a looong time since they want to get help in stopping the blight. And she doesn’t want to feel any lonelier than she already does.

Morrigan dare i ask of your own mother - “I love her. What else do you want to know?” Why did she say that. She could have just opened her chest to bare her heart to a complete stranger as well.

Alistair is helping Ati have her silly moments. She sympathises with Alistair a bit, and is showing him compassion.

Atish’an appreciates the conversations she has with Morrigan. Morrigan seems nice in her own way, and she often says things that force Ati to stop and think. In the long run, it’s helping Ati mature a bit and Morrigan break down her walls.

Redcliffe:

The silly pathetic endearing human she’s been travelling with, who is her senior warden yet leaves all the important decisions to Ati, is technically the heir to the throne. She finds this hilarious

This bann is kind of a baddie, wonder if he’d be down to. We’re on a mission here. (Ati has licked her fair share of lampposts and then some).

Circle:

Jumping at any chance to defend the mages. WHY do these people keep their mages locked up that’s so fucked up??

Oh? Wynne’s here? She’s kind of annoying but DAMN what a healer. Atishan is thinking that she would be useful to have around to fight the darkspawn. Baby’s first rational work thought :’)

Loghain sent a fucking assassin after them? Atish’an is terrified but god if being powerful enough to have an assassin sent after you is ego boosting. For some reason beyond her, she doesn’t think Zevran is lying about what he’s saying. It could be because he looks like home. It’s been a while since she’s seen other elves around, and his tattoos remind her of vallaslin. Not that they’re the vallaslin she would regognize. Maybe they have different ones in Antiva, she thinks.

Ati thinks she found someone more whorish than herself.

The way Zevran talks so openly about his past is throwing Ati off. How can he just reveal these things to her? (Does Ati notice how Zevran is undermining his own experiences trying to tell what the crows did was practical and that there were benefits? Does she notice how he feels when Ati tells him what he went through was awful? I am going to cry about Zevran’t approval changes right this second.)

Hearing Zevran be so very homesick and talking of his home he cannot return to broke Ati’s heart. At least she could eventually go back home. Right? But the chances of Zevran surviving Antiva are slim. It makes Ati sad. She finds Zevran finding comfort in the smell of leather endearing. (I have far more thoughts on Zevran but this is what Ati thinks ok)

Brecilian forest:

Ati can't help but feel relieved after being among her own people after spending so much time with human affairs

Seeing the members of her sister clan in pain pains her too, she's stopped a demon possessing a child, an entire onslaught of undead, and she managed to save a circle tower from abominations beyond what she could have imagined. Ati feels unstoppable. Everything she has done, has worked out so far. It does not help with her cockiness. "I am good at non-trivial tasks."

Seeing the hunters like this… It takes some effort for Ati to not let it show how much of an effect it has on her. She could almost cry

Ati is getting used to Wynne. Ati's missing her mommy disease makes it so that Wynne's presence can be a bit comforting. And she appreciates Wynne's snark.

Wynne with elves who are mistrustful of humans, especially humans in authority seems to be a theme.

Seeing Danyla was painful. Atish'an knows she must be killed to end her suffering. It doesn't make it any easier. It's something that won't leave Ati. She's seen her fair share of death and suffering but this was something she could have never prepared for.

Sided with the elves and the werewolves. Ati thinks Zathrian's actions were originally justified, but the clan is suffering and. Well. The current werewolves, though they are humans, they aren't the evil heartless creatures that originally assaulted Zathrian's children. They were just people who happened to be born from those people.

Leliana gets on Ati's nerves a bit every so often. "They are serfs. There is no slavery in Orlais." mkay sure. But. Leliana actually listens to Atish'an when she challenges her beliefs. It's refreshing.

Oh… Leliana also has a dead bio mom who had a friend Leliana considers a mother figure.

Denerim:

Ati got Sten at 100% approval after questioning him about qunari children. Her inquisitive nature and snark are a HUGE hit. They were already at super high approval with each other bc Ati LOVES asking questions (i love how she’s both like cocky sure of herself rude & snarky but also so very cunning and inquisitive. you can be smart and a bit of an asshole)

Ati approves after Alistair defended her to Goldanna. She was about to go off but Alistair's firm response was enough to not make her loose her marbles.

Denerim market district is a lot to take in. Ati has never seen a city this big so full of life everywhere. It's a bit overwhelming

Ati heard there was some Howe leading a purge in the alienage. She would show him no mercy would they ever cross paths

Haven:

"Kadan" Atish'an does not know what the word means, but she can feel its weight. Kadan. She thinks she feels the same way about Sten. Sten said he trusted her with his life… Also Ati appreciates someone who will challenge her decisions. Their bond is strong. (Starts calling Sten lethallin? idk how that works. is vhenan romantic only?)

Also Ati’s specialization is druid. Sten understanding how intelligent mabari are and talking to Falon (i love dumb names) in such a regular manner is something Ati does too. I can’t believe i forgot Ati and Sten are besties before this rerun.

anyways this is all i have so far. does anyone have any thoughts? some suggestions for improvement? does anyone have a similar warden

#i am in such a dragon age mood rn!!#da:o #my ocs tag #ati mahariel #atish'an #oc: ati mahariel

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sulky-valkyrie · 2 years

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Hello and happy Friday! I'm here with a DADWC prompt; how about "the first kiss and the realization of “it’s always been you”" for m!Mahariel and Zevran? Or perhaps another ship if you prefer? :)

I hope you like sappy fluff <3

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alistair was king now, so that was . . . probably good, Theron supposed. And Anora seemed fine with the situation. More than fine, really. Marrying him solidified her hold on the throne that never should’ve been in dispute anyway, but these idiot shem apparently just didn’t much care of women being in charge. Loghain could’ve been useful, but the man had tried to kill him repeatedly, and frankly, Theron didn’t want more than one person who’d done that with him.

And if he had to choose which of his attempted murderers to spend time with, well, he’d always pick Zevran. Something about the other man just entranced him. Not the tattoos, though he did enjoy the afternoon in the lake when he’d shown off how many more there were and how far down they traveled. He could feel the heat rising to his face remembering when Zevran had offered to let him touch them, and the shame at his cowardice in declining. Because he did, oh Creators, he absolutely did, but that fascination he had brought with it an uncharacteristic shyness. He’d never had trouble with this sort of thing before, but Zevran’s cavalier attitude made him feel so . . . inadequate. What right did he have to even begin to desire a man like that?

Now wasn’t the time to mope though. They’d just won a major victory, right? No more damn soldiers trying to kill them, right? Just darkspawn doing it. Yep, that definitely felt like winning. He grimaced and finished his ale. The banns and the arls were all toasting and congratulating Alistair, who looked somewhat like he wanted to sink into the floor, but the man would have to get used to the attention. More to the point though, it meant Theron could slip out unnoticed.

“And where do you think you’re sneaking off to, my darling?”

The Antivan’s voice sent tingles along his spine and up to his ears. Elgar'nan, the way he talked should be classified a sin. “Just, just out,” he stammered, not quite looking back at the assassin, but also unable to stop himself from a chance to admire him.

Zev had really gone all out for the Landsmeet, wearing a sleek black and grey outfit with gold trim most likely stolen from Howe’s estate; he tried to why it was important to look so dashing with a long metaphor, something about the theater of war, but Theron had lost track of his words as he’d watched those delicate strong hands flutter about in wild grandiose gestures. It was strange, Zev always talked with his whole body at camp: fingers always moving, arms sweeping out to point out something interesting, or thrown over Theron’s shoulder to pull him close and whisper absurd secrets. Theron loved it, loved the attention, loved the chance to be that close to him, but really had no idea what to do to make it happen more, short of hiding in a rented room with him for a week.

“Mm, it seems dangerous to go alone,” Zev mused. “You should take this.”

Theron paused and waited.

And waited.

“Um, take what?” He finally asked.

The Crow grinned, eyes crinkling up like they only did when they were alone. “Why, you should take me!”

“I’d certainly like to.” Oh shit. Had he said that out loud? If the look of supreme satisfaction on Zev’s face was any indicator, he definitely had. “Er, I -”

The assassin stepped close, too close, not close enough. “And what, my Warden, is stopping you?”

Theron’s mouth went dry. “I, well, you’re, um, well -” get it together, Mahariel, you sound like Tamlen! He took a deep breath. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.” In someone like me.

“Oh, mi amor, how terribly wrong you are.” Zevran tugged Theron’s arms around his own waist gently before pulling off a glove - gloves Theron had given him - to stroke his cheek with his knuckles. “I’ve always -”

Theron kissed him. Kissed him like he’d wanted to for months. He poured everything into it: every moment he’d spent yearning alone in his tent, every filthy thought he’d conjured up while taking himself in hand, every memory of a touch that just hadn’t been enough. It all went into that blazing kiss, pressing himself against the other elf with such a single-minded intensity that he forgot where they were until -

“I - oh, is this hallway occupied?”

Zev spun them both around , instinctively moving to place himself between Theron and the threat that was -

Alistair. And was that Leliana giggling behind him?

“Quite.” Zev leaned sideways. “Nice to see you, Leliana.” He put his blades up slowly and then backed up into Theron before turning around to kiss him again before looking over his shoulder. “But yes, this is my hallway and my Warden, and you’ll need to find a different one for yours.”

#da drunk writing circle #dragon age #fanfic writing #warden x zevran #warden mahariel #zevran arainai #first kiss #prompt fills

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vigilskept · 1 year

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i’ve never rly done a duncan hater run of origins but man…. it feels kind of obligatory for a mahariel especially when ur romancing tamlen

#dao #mahariel origin

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ghostwise · 2 years

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aloe, elfroot, and the flood. 2k words, pre-relationship zevran x mahariel

The Western forests of Ferelden were not like the forests he’d grown up with. Comprised of grassy lowlands parceled out by shemlen nobles, the Bannorn was opposite the Brecilian in every sense: domesticated and unfamiliar and no safer for the absence of possessed trees and haunted vales.

It was foreign to him.

Which was how he’d wound up here: miserably lost, resting on a fallen log while his legs ached. He’d been walking for hours.

There’d been a time, growing up, when these restless moods would take hold of him. He’d come to recognize their arrival by the pressure in his chest and the urge to cry at nothing. These moods needed to be quickly subdued or they’d stick like burrs—so he would run.

He would leave the safety of camp and flee into the woods, and keep going until the feeling passed. And it worked, most of the time.

Ah, but they’d never lasted so long before, had they? And Tamlen had always been there to catch up with him. To walk back together.

The thought brought another surge of hurt.

Months had passed and he still missed Tamlen sharply, urgently, as if he’d just lost him. He could barely remember the funeral, feverish with Blight as he had been. He longed to see him, ached for his steady comfort and friendly advice. He would know what to do. He always knew what to do.

But now Tamlen was dead. And those days were gone. And no one had told him how quick and violent their end would be.

Hamal forced a slow breath through his lungs.

Paralyzed by his own thoughts, he sat and waited in the shade.

He’d expected Morrigan to find him, as she had that first night after Ostagar.

Freshly reeling from battle, he’d made a final desperate bid to return to his clan. At the time he’d imagined it was still possible to catch up to them—a foolish thought, he now realized—and she’d all but dragged him back to Alistair, where the young man’s wounded gaze had convinced him to stay.

(Ironically, she’d earned some of his trust back then. He appreciated her lack of pretense.)

It wasn’t Morrigan who found him, though.

Hamal kept his eyes fixed on an empty patch of grass, pretending not to notice. Even when the man moved toward him, he had reason enough to believe he wasn’t in danger; after all, Zevran had been given plenty of opportunities to kill him over the past few weeks. If he’d wanted to, he would’ve done so already.

Probably.

“Warden Mahariel!” Zevran greeted him cheerfully. “What a remarkable coincidence meeting you here!”

Hearing his words, Hamal raised a brow and looked up at him.

In the short time he’d known him, Hamal had formed a vague impression of Zevran in his mind. The man was a walking contradiction; a performer with rehearsed lines—but when no audience was watching he was quiet and subdued as a shade. He’d acclimated to their travels quickly and without complaint, all but vanishing into the daily routine, much like he’d always been there.

Suspicious. Deliberate. Brave. Hamal knew that the only reason he had spotted him was because the man had allowed it. That was only fair; after all, the only reason Zevran had found him was because he’d allowed himself to be found.

A fact he was already regretting. Zevran’s opening words felt hollow; his smile just another performance Hamal wasn’t interested in.

But if the other man was affected by his stubborn silence, he did not show it. In fact, he was encouraged, somehow, to come sit beside him—an act which startled him so much he nearly jumped in his seat.

Zevran froze for an instant, and then edged away, taking care to sit as far from him as possible.

“You are very sunburnt,” Zevran observed after a moment.

Hamal carefully touched his face. His skin was hot and painful. He hadn’t noticed until now.

Zevran hoisted a rucksack over his shoulder, dropping it onto the ground between them.

“No worries,” he said, pulling the drawstring to open it. “I’ve come prepared.”

He quickly produced a small jar of aloe and elfroot paste. His bag seemed to contain more; bandages, poultices, rations, blankets, all sorts of purposeful items. Creators! Had he expected to find him half-dead? The thought was overwhelming.

Hamal held up a hand as Zevran moved towards him.

“No-”

Again, Zevran paused. Setting the jar between them, he closed the pack and returned to his seat, from which he regarded him in silence.

“Sorry, I’m—I wasn’t expecting company,” Hamal explained.

Indeed, the word had come out sharp, a knee-jerk reaction. It was embarrassingly sincere. No, don’t touch me. No, don’t come near.

With a deep breath, he resigned himself and picked up the jar.

“Thank you.”

Zevran nodded. “You are very welcome.”

It struck Hamal that this was the first conversation they’d had alone since the day of the ambush—a piss-poor conversation so far, he had to admit. Far too aware of Zevran’s brown eyes taking him in, Hamal began applying the paste to his burns. He worked methodically, covering his cheekbones and forehead, his ears and even the part in his hair.

The scent reminded him of Ashalle. He remembered her dabbing the very same concoction on him as a child.

“That’s better, I imagine,” Zevran said gently, once Hamal had replaced the lid on the jar. “If I may ask… why did you come here?”

Hamal looked at him.

“You left without warning,” Zevran continued. “No food, no supplies, you are not even armed. This region, I understand, is embroiled in a civil war, not to mention a Blight. You are a man alone, and a Dalish elf at that. Forgive me,” he said very firmly, “Forgive me, but it is inviting all sorts of trouble, no?”

“It wasn’t my intention,” Hamal said, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to argue. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Was not feeling well?” Zevran asked.

“I felt…” Hamal let out a sigh, finding it impossible to explain. “I don’t know. I felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. I was crawling out of my skin. I just wanted to be alone. So…”

“You left,” Zevran said.

Hamal bent forward, hugging his knees, messy braids hanging low. After a moment he risked a glance at Zevran. The man was quiet, looking at him with both concern and curiosity. All around them, the sinking sun cast long and moody shadows, tinted deep blue.

“You came after me?” Hamal asked.

“I did not come here to make you do anything against your will,” Zevran said softly.

“What if I do not wish to go back?” Hamal asked. “What if I ask you to leave?”

“Then I suppose it’s just a question of what I should tell the others.” Zevran looked away. “But it’ll have to be good; both to ensure that no one comes looking for you, and to clear me of any suspicion.”

Hamal let out a laugh at that—short, bitter, but a laugh all the same. He had not expected such a practical response. The sound surprised him as much as it did Zevran.

“No need,” Hamal said finally. “We should go back.”

“If you say so,” Zevran said with a smile. “May I suggest that we eat first? I am famished.”

Wrapped parcels of bread and jam appeared from his pack. Cheese and smoked fish, too, all wrapped in a plain cloth.

Hamal waited for Zevran to take a bite of everything—which he did openly, his every move obvious, as if reading his mind. Still unconvinced, Hamal picked up a portion of bread and held it out to him. Zevran took it from him slowly, and ate it with a knowing smile.

Alright.

Avoiding his eyes, Hamal took the next bite for himself.

Strange, that he would come to share a meal with a man who had just weeks ago tried to kill him. Life meandered through such lonely paths. But the food was welcome nourishment, and the fact that Zevran pursued no further conversation was also appreciated.

He felt marginally better once they set off.

He had food in his belly and the sun had vanished below the horizon. To his surprise, Zevran had brought his bow and arrows along, and he felt far more secure with them in hand.

“Ah, thank you,” he said, accepting them with only a tinge of guilt. “Ma serannas.”

“¿De que?” Zevran replied.

Hamal looked at him, perplexed.

“You’re welcome,” Zevran clarified. “You share so much of your own tongue with us, I thought I’d return the favor.”

Hamal nodded, accepting the explanation.

“Besides,” Zevran continued with an indulgent smile, “it comforts me to speak it, though no one understands it here but me. I suppose it reminds me that my home is still out there: Over the mountains and past the sea, full of beautiful flowers and bothersome Antivans just like myself.”

“You miss it?” Hamal asked. He rubbed at his ears, annoyed at how the sunburn poultice had dried—green and chalky. He imagined he looked like a statue, all covered in moss.

“I do,” Zevran admitted. “I miss the warmth. Ferelden is much too cold for my sensibilities.”

“It is summer-time,” Hamal said after a moment’s thought.

“So people keep telling me!” Zevran let out an exaggerated sigh. “Believe it or not, this is like winter in Antiva. Particularly near the coast—that’s where I’m from, you see,” he said with a smile. “Antiva City. Crowded, humid, and not a speck of frost in sight. Ah, it is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City…”

His voice took on a wistful edge, trailing off into memory.

The moment was so genuine that Hamal stopped mid-stride to look at him, knowing that Zevran was picturing vivid sights of home deep in his mind’s eye; looking with the heart at something other than the trees.

Then the look ended and those brown eyes snapped to him—wary and alert. Perhaps it had not been his intention to wander.

“Are you from anywhere comparable?” Zevran asked, changing the subject with a flourishing wave.

Hamal shook his head. “My people have no cities left,” he said.

“Yes, of course,” Zevran said. “The wandering life of the Dalish. Well then, if no hometown; what is your clan’s name?”

The question brought another sharp stab of loss. It left him a bit breathless before he could answer.

“Sabrae,” he said softly.

“What is it like?” Zevran pressed. “Where do you travel? How many people?”

Hamal frowned.

Though it seemed Zevran was trying to make conversation, perhaps even comfort him by giving him a chance to talk about his home, the deep shadow of suspicion quickly crept in.

“I don’t feel comfortable telling you.”

“Apologies.” Zevran inclined his head, holding a hand to his chest—an apologetic gesture that was almost a bow. “I overstepped. However, it does sound grand. Truly! I am jealous-”

“Fuck’s sake,” Hamal said before he could stop himself. From one moment to the next, he’d swung from deep sadness, to anger.

Zevran looked at him, surprised.

“Don’t do that,” Hamal told him, walking up beside him. “Don’t… apologize, or bow, or tiptoe. And especially do not be jealous of me. You do not know me.”

He waited another moment, before faltering under Zevran’s troubled stare and walking away.

“Well,” Zevran called after him. “That matter can be remedied.”

He kept walking. What was he thinking, asking all sorts of questions without knowing a single thing about him?

Hamal thought about it, and had just decided he did not feel bad about snapping at Zevran, when an unfamiliar sound boomed across the valley.

They both looked around for the source of the noise.

“What is that?” Hamal asked.

The sound grew and strengthened into a roar that filled the air. To his ears, it sounded almost like a distant rockslide, but that didn’t seem right either…

“We need to find higher ground,” Zevran said suddenly. “Quickly.”

Without waiting he turned and headed for the nearest hill. Hamal followed him, his already frayed nerves flooding his system with adrenaline, putting words out of his reach.

Even once they’d climbed high enough to see the flooding, he could think of nothing to say.

The sight was peculiar to him. Were it not for the full moon, they wouldn’t have been able to see the floodwaters at all.

Water poured out into the valley. He had no idea where so much water had come from, or if they were in danger, or what had occurred. The water was distant enough to be no immediate threat to them, but it stretched out in the direction they had been heading, and seemed to be rising.

“A dam burst…” Zevran said, then he made a sharp intake of breath. “There is a village there! I am sure of it. I passed near it while looking for you.”

Hamal sank to his knees. Zevran’s words gripped him with a cold horror before he even realized he was on the ground.

The night filled to the brim with the sound of rushing water and the distant cry of birds fleeing to the starry skies. Beside him, Zevran’s breathing, quick and shallow.

All he could think was all those people, all those people—and a resurgence of his own grief, and Zevran’s lack of home—and the vague, yet certain, sense that it was not just his world that had become undone, but the entire world at large that was coming to an end.

#dragon age #dao #zevran arainai #zevran x warden #mahariel #oc: hamal mahariel #rinnywrites #for being my main blorbo i don't write from hamal's pov as often as i should! he's so introspective look at that man overthink #'i am in a bad mood and im going to make it everyones problem. no i will not elaborate.'

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highwayphantoms · 2 years

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dadwc prompts

this is a version of my prompts page designed to be accessible to users of the mobile app. to view the original full page, click here.

exclamation points indicate what I’m in the mood to write!

Last updated: Jan 26, 2024

This week I’m feeling...

Cal Hawke, post-da2

broken relationship prompts 👀

or alternately more angst prompts

Mirnan Mahariel & Oriana Lavellan

perhaps hozier prompts?

idk throw prompts at me with no characters attached maybe it’ll spark something

Pairings & characters I like writing:

DAO:

Warden/Alistair, Warden/Zevran, Warden/Alistair/Zevran

Warden & co

Mahariel/Tamlen, Mahariel/Merrill, Mahariel/Tamlen/Merrill

Tabris & family

Cousland/Anora, Cousland & Anora

DA2:

Hawke/anyone and everyone really

Hawke & co

Hawke siblings

Hawke & Cullen

DAI:

Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan/Dorian

Lavellan & co

My OCs:

[universe A]

Tabris: city elf Warden, 100% Done With Everything

Serafina Hawke: blood mage, red/purple personality. Queen of Bad Decisions

Rowan: city elf Inquisitor! smol and angry

[universe B]

Mirnan Mahariel: Dalish Warden, tired and sad but scary competent

Cal Hawke: shapeshifter, spirit healer, anxious bean. spent about a decade in the Circle before escaping via Ostagar

Oriana Lavellan: Dalish Inquisitor. ace as heck. i love her.

Cyren Lavellan: Dalish, essentially Oriana’s other half.

[universe C]

Erik Cousland: human Warden, king-consort, and a manipulative asshole

Briar Hawke: sword and shield warrior, warm and kind and known for giving excellent hugs.

Emmy: Briar and Fenris’s daughter, born some months after the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry. (By all means, send me prompts to write about Emmy post-DA:I hehehe.)

Prompt lists:

Carbon Leaf lyrics

Hugs, hand-holding, kisses

Hurt/Comfort 1 and H/C 2

Emotionally charged sentence starters

Death prompts

Codex prompts one and two

Fluffy prompts

spooky vibes prompts

Or any other prompt list I’ve reblogged

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istibaethoriel · 2 months

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✨💔🍦❌🥺

:D (as many as you want also obvi)

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it: THIS is the hardest one oh man…I mean, I love writing dialogue and I pride myself on trying to keep the character voice as close to canon as possible when I’m writing fanfiction. I really enjoy the challenge of writing something that I feel like I can hear being a line in a game or a novel or whatever medium it is I’m writing for. With original stuff, I just love chatty characters so getting individual voices to the point where I hear them in my head is a lovely feeling!

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart? : YES. I love breaking my own heart and writing angst and sad hurt/comfort/maybe we never feel comfort again fics is one of my favourite things to do honestly. As far as some of my saddest, I loved Tamlen/Mahariel back in my DA days and this Some Mistakes Can Never be Unmade is one of my favourite fics I’ve ever written for that pairing. I did just write a Shakarian fic for a friend that also falls in this category, though. There are others I love but mostly it’s Sad Elves.

🍦 What’s the sweetest fic you’ve created so far? Oh man, so, I have written sweet fics but I always feel a vague sense of guilt around them. I worry I’ve made things too saccharine or too corny because I have two gears and those are Devastation and Adorable, the dichotomy of man. My favourite is a double oc dragon age fic here, two city elf thieves in love.

❌ What’s a trope you will never write? : Oh man, this feels terribly boring of me and the tropes I dislike are myriad(though for some reason I cant think of one off the top of my head right now) but my least favourite is anything and everything to do with babies. Maybe it’s just because I am a lesbian but it gives me the ick. That and like the whole ‘I can be Better and Resist Revenge’ Um no, my characters will always be like ‘I am Not better give me the Knife’. I feel like loads of narratives are dogged by a ‘turn the other cheek’’ trope and it gets mishandled. Not that I don't think it has it’s place and cant be done well, it absolutely can, but you probably won't catch me writing that kind of story unless the conditions are insanely perfect for it.

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels? : Oh man I am a sucker for the whole Character A is desperately hurt but still checking to see if Character B is okay and just keeps struggling to get up and won't stay still and admit they’re injured it DESTROYS me. Hence Mass Effect III endings leaving me in absolute emotional shambles. This and seeing a character who has no idea they’re already dead/lost/betrayed and is just…confused.

Thank you so much for the ask! :D this was so much fun to do!

#ask meme #writing meme answers #thank you so much this was such a nice break from my writing to answer and think about :D

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nanowatzophina · 5 months

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Why is it so hard for me to draw the vallaslin properly? Like… jeez. I keep looking at reference at long last and realizing how far off I’ve gotten with the way I draw it. Somehow I combined both of the June vallaslin options. One day I might be able to draw a proper Mahariel or Lavellan.

I think at least I’ve done a pretty good job with Halier at least…

I gotta draw more dragon age stuff… I just got too many characters now—

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vigilskeep · 2 years

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heyyyy what did you do w connor? im trying to actually make in-character decisions for my current playthrough but i dont want alistair to yell at me LMAO

minerva saves both connor and isolde! i actually vastly prefer the other two outcomes, i’m pretty sure i’ve seen the writers refer to this as a cop-out they regretted and i agree. it’s lame that there is actually just an everyone wins option with no consequences. (they should’ve had damage done because you wasted time going to the circle and back, like maybe in your absence connor kills teagan or something.) however minerva sets jowan free and tells him she never wants to see him again, which is the only way to keep him alive and free of the circle, and that means you can’t do the blood magic ritual. and minerva a) in character would never kill connor if she had another option even a risky one and b) for my plot logistics needs to get into the fade on that quest so she can learn blood magic

anyway some quick potential characterisation reasoning for you to peruse:

for killing connor: your character doesn’t trust jowan and thinks he has ulterior intentions. your character is absolutely set against blood magic (worth especial consideration for anyone of an andrastian background or also a mahariel, considering mahariel’s own clan’s response to blood magic in da2). your character has already done the broken circle quest and now fears the fade and the consequences of blood magic. your character knows nothing of magic and would rather choose a simple fight than play with forces they don’t understand. your character has had someone sacrifice themselves for them and believes connor will regret it as much as they do

for the blood magic ritual: your character is absolutely dead set against killing a child (understandable!). your character empathises with jowan’s wishes to help and redeem himself. your character does not come from a background where they were taught to fear blood magic. your character blames isolde for the situation and thinks it’s fair that she should sacrifice her life to solve it. your character dislikes isolde, whether for her orlesian background, her noble background or her past treatment of alistair, and doesn’t see this as a great loss. isolde’s pleas to save connor struck a chord with your character, perhaps because it reminded them of their own parents’ sacrifices or because it gave them a glimpse of family love and care they never had

#if i wasnt doing a jowan rights playthrough id remove the both sides win option entirely lmao #which you can do in game just by saying you cant risk waiting which makes sense #anyway sorry long response lmao

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jojea · 5 years

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am i too late for dragon age’s birthday-

#dragon age #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #mahariel #alistair x mahariel #khaia mahariel #my art #PHEW yes i had to shit out smth real quick for da:o’s 10 years #(and yes i used one of those drawing bases for it bc i was in a rush shhHHHH-)#i’ve been playing da2 today though aicjsj so when i was done i wanted to do a little drawing of my mahariel and alistair!#i miss them sm... :’)#alistair theirin i love youuuuu-#limited edition post

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fearnotthedemons · 3 years

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Give Me Mercy No More

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe x Vairë Mahariel

Warnings: None

Word count: 1,415

Summary: Nathaniel is furious that the Warden who killed his father and destroyed his family name now presides over the place he once called home. Vairë has always been a sucker for second chances.

***

The prisoner, Warden-Commander Mahariel is told, took down four Wardens before they were able to subdue him. He has been in the Vigil’s hold for three days, apparently on the charge of attempted theft. She doesn’t even know what he tried to take, just that the matter is pressing enough for Varel to insist she not delay the sentencing any more than the attack on the keep already has.

She’s not sure exactly what she expects, but the man waiting for her in the holding cell is not it. He is tall and broad, his face defined by pale skin and a sharply hooked nose. A single patch of dark hair grows on his chin, matching the rest that lies shoulder length and disheveled on his head. His eyes are what strike her the most, though, intense and slate grey and full of hate.

“If it isn’t the great Hero, conqueror of the Blight and vanquisher of all evil,” he sneers when Vairë steps up to the cold iron bars. “Aren’t you supposed to be ten feet tall with lighting bolts shooting out of your eyes?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” she deadpans. “They actually shoot out of my arse.”

He snorts a derisive laugh. “I just thought my father’s murderer would be more impressive.”

Vairë folds her arms and cocks her hip. “I’ve killed lots of people’s fathers by now; you'll have to be more specific.”

At this the prisoner draws himself up to his full height and stares down on her with all the malice he can muster.

“I am Nathaniel Howe.” Her brows raise in silent shock at the revelation as he continues, “My family owned these lands until you-- Do you even remember my father?”

Her face darkens. “I remember.”

How could she forget? The atrocities Rendon Howe committed on paper came nowhere near the horrors of his dungeon she uncovered moments before their final and fatal confrontation.

“So you came here, what?” she asks. “To try and kill me? Avenge the Butcher of Denerim in a blaze of glory?”

“I thought I was going to try to kill you, yes,” Nathaniel admits, “to lay a trap for my father’s killer. But then I… I realized I just wanted to reclaim some of my family’s things. It’s all I have left.”

The last sentence is practically a whisper, small and full of equal parts anger and shame.

“I see.”

“The Howe’s - those of us left - are pariahs now. All thanks to you. Whatever my father did, however, shouldn’t harm my whole family!”

“As it happens, I agree with you,” Vairë says. His mouth opens for a snappy retort and closes in an empty, somewhat perplexed huff when he realizes what she’s said. She continues, “I feel no need to keep you here for the sake of a man dead almost three years, and I have no particular interest in your family’s personal possessions.”

“But you’ll see me hanged for attempted murder, is that it?”

Vairë laughs softly, a strange sound to hear echo off of clammy prison walls and cold flagstone floors. “Some of my best friends have tried to murder me.”

Nathaniel sputters at that, and before he can collect his thoughts for a retort Varel enters the room, heading straight to Vairë’s side.

“I see you’ve spoken to our guest,” he says in lieu of greeting. “Quite the handful, isn’t he?”

Vairë hums noncommittally and runs a critical eye over Nathaniel, head tilted and pointed ears twitching ever so slightly.

“Have you decided what’s to be done with him?”

She has.

“Release him,” the Warden-Commander decides aloud.

“What?” Varel and Nathaniel exclaim in unison.

“With his possessions as well,” she adds to further shock the room. “The Wardens have no need for Howe family heirlooms.”

“Commander, I really think--”

“It’s decided,” she says firmly. “Now if you don’t mind, I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Yes, Commander.”

The guard posted at the cell opens it with a screech of underused metal and begins handing Nathaniel his things, but he is too busy watching the Warden-Commander leave to truly appreciate it even after three days of prison food and cramped quarters. It feels horribly like a dismissal. Or even worse; a second chance.

***

It’s raining when Vairë sets out for the city of Amaranthine two weeks later to make her first official appearance as both Warden-Commander and Arlessa. Anders and Oghren accompany her, eyeing the landscape with unease beside their Commander. The stretch of road they’re on is in a state of disrepair that matches the somber countryside that surrounds them; the Blight hit Amaranthine hard.

It is from behind one of many crumbling buildings, likely once used for trade, that a figure steps out of nowhere and asks - begs - that she wait.

“I want to talk to you,” he says, and all at once she recognizes him; Nathaniel Howe.

She folds her arms and tilts her head at him, ignoring the defensive stances Anders and Oghren have adopted beside her. “And you want to do it in the rain and the mud two weeks after I released you from my custody because…?”

“Because you did set me free,” he says, voice colored with disbelief. “You just let me go, despite the things I said and the things I might do. I want to know why.”

“You killed none of my Wardens and took nothing that belonged to me,” Vairë says. “Did you honestly expect me to punish a man for returning to his childhood home after a Blight and a civil war spent away to reclaim what little he could?”

“Yes. So why didn’t you?”

Her eyes narrow as she takes him in, ears flicking in agitation as she turns the question over in her mind.

It’s the same question Varel had pressed her with afterwards, the one in the guards’ eyes and on the tips of their tongues as she let a Howe walk away not only unharmed but with the things he had come to steal. She had given them all the same answer.

“You are many things, Nathaniel Howe, but you are not your father. If you still want revenge for his death then by all means,” she gestures widely at herself, “do your worst. If not, I can put a word in and find you a place serving the Crown, or speak to a few mercenary companies, or simply leave you be. But what happens here is your choice, not mine.”

Nathaniel’s face contorts with an emotion she’s not even sure he could name as he processes her words.

Then, so softly she almost doesn’t hear it, “Take me with you.”

“What?”

He lifts his chin defiantly now, meets her questioning gaze, and says clearly, “Take me with you. Make me a Grey Warden.”

Oghren openly guffaws, and Anders looks uncomfortably towards Vairë as she takes a step back and looks him up and down with a carefully neutral expression.

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“Maybe not,” he agrees, “but I have nowhere else to go; all the favors in the world won’t change my name.”

Oghren grumbles something offensive in agreement and Vairë fixes him with a withering stare before Nathaniel continues, “I fully expected to die when I came back to the Vigil. Maybe I even wanted to. But you let me go, and you said the choice is mine. I choose this. Let me redeem my family name doing what my father should have against the darkspawn. I have to try.”

There’s a tense pause as everyone holds their breath waiting for the Warden-Commander’s response. The wind howls and the rain falls steadily down on them as she weighs the consequences.

Her smile is not entirely kind when she finally says, “Welcome aboard.”

They all awkwardly close ranks around Vairë, who makes towards Amaranthine as before without another word. Anders flashes a wan smile Nathaniel’s way while Oghren fixes him with a glower and grumbles what are undoubtedly very colorful dwarven insults under his breath, shaking his head at his friend’s habit of collecting murderous strays. With her back to him Nathaniel could easily change his mind and kill her instead. He can’t decide if it’s a vote of confidence or just plain insulting that she’s left herself so open like this. It feels horribly like a dismissal.

Or worse, he thinks as they march towards the city that once upon a time would have been his, a second chance.

#nathaniel howe #vairë mahariel #nathaniel howe x mahariel #nathaniel howe x warden #dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age awakening #dao #the beginning of the end for angryboy nate #about to catch so many feelings smh #pre relationship #slow burn #anyways i Am obsessed w these two thanks for asking #my writing

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paridoxpower · 3 years

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Ta-da!

Did I teach myself to embroider just to do this piece. Yes. Yes I did.

Learned a lot while doing this, it was the biggest piece I’ve embroidered so far. I think I’ll redo it down the line eventually, but I’m proud of what I’ve done. (and who knows, might make this a thing I do for money some day)

This is my first warden, Ara Mahariel. I used the generic Mahariel tile image from the Keep and adjusted it to be her! Colors are a little off, didn’t match them as well as I thought :/

If you have any advice, tips or tricks, and comments, I’d love to hear them. Still learning!

(How do fellow embroiders embroider right against the hoop?? I couldn’t find out how so just adjusted afterwards to a smaller hoop and it worked okay besides the metal marking on the cloth)

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hollyand-writes · 3 years

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WIP WEDNESDAY

I’ve been tagged this week by @noire-pandora, @hobo-apostate and @pinkfadespirit 🥰 and I’m honestly DELIGHTED to NOW be able to do WIP Wednesday after many months of not being able to -- since early summer, I’ve been working seven days a week (yep, weekdays, weekends AND evenings 😭 I’ve been buried in work), and I’ve DESPERATELY needed a break for a loooong time, although I was lucky to get a mini-break last weekend.

The fact I got 2 exchange fics done for the DA Dwarf Exchange (Paragon) and the Black Emporium Rare Pair Exchange on top of 7-day-workweeks was nothing short of a miracle, and I genuinely don’t know how I didn’t crack up. 😭 BUT I now FINALLY have some time to do fandom stuff again! 😍 Which means I can confirm that TOMORROW I AM PUBLISHING Chapter 50 of my Regency AU Carver/Merrill longfic “A Chance Engagement” so.... for WIP Wednesday have a sneak peek of the chapter I will post tomorrow! 😁

---

When tea was over, Miss Hawke extracted one last promise from them before they departed.

‘I will call on you at Sundermount tomorrow with my letter, Mrs Sabrae,’ Miss Hawke said, ‘and I can explain more then; but, whatever you do, please do not mention this to my brother.’

Mahariel agreed, and Merrill added: ‘I can assure you, Miss Hawke, I have no wish or intention to.’

Miss Hawke exhaled in relief. ‘Thank you so much; I rather appreciate that. My other option would be to ask Mr Tethras for his assistance, but for now I would prefer a more discreet option, if possible; for Mr Tethras is a high-profile man and I wish to avoid gossip. I think this needs a… a woman’s touch. So I thank you for agreeing to help, and please remember – if you do not wish it anymore, Mahariel, I will not force you or hold it against you. You have my word on that; I know what a big favour you are doing me.’

As they returned to Sundermount, Merrill could not help puzzling over this strange exchange. What could it mean? – why would Miss Hawke need to write to Mr Arainai? – what information was she so desperate to find out from him that she needed Mahariel’s help?

---

I’d like to thank everyone who tagged me in a WIP Wednesday or a WIP-sharing Something-or-other these past few months -- thank you all for thinking of me all this time! ❤️ -- and I tag you all back:

@laniardraws, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, @pikapeppa, @ser-thirst-a-lot, @dismalzelenka, @jentrevellan, @kunstpause, @thefoxinboots, @dafan7711, @midnightprelude, @inquisitoracorn, @aria-i-adagio, @mikkeneko, @natsora, @lesetoilesfous, @andrastesknickerweasel, @illusivesoul and... I think that’s it? Sorry if I’ve left anyone off! ❤️

#also if i haven't tagged you and you want to do this then please consider yourselves tagged!#wip wednesday #hollyand writes

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