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procrastinatingnerd · 3 years

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Hi everyone! So this was my first time taking part in the @osemanversebigbang but I had so much fun!! I can't wait to read everyone's entries! 💜

Title: Angel Rahimi And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Lunch Break

Characters: Angel, Juliet, Rowan, Jimmy, Lister, Bliss, two of Angel’s future uni friends (OCs).

Spoilers? Minor spoilers of important events in “I Was Born For This”.

Word Count: 3.6k

Ships: Bicci, one joke about Juliet/Rowan.

~Joan of Arc (Probably)

“I am so fucking tired”

“Right, time’s up, put your pens down.” The exam officer says from the front of the room. I scribble one last sentence before my hand gives out, and I all but throw my pen onto the desk, sighing as dramatically as I can. This week is a fucking nightmare. Exams and assignments are the piss. Fuck uni, I’m ready to drop out. Or drop dead. Either works, honestly.

As I leave the exam hall, I walk past some people from the students’ union. They’re handing out flyers for the Christmas ball next week. My housemates are all planning on going, but my friends and I planned our present swap for that night, so we’re going to spend it eating a fuck ton of snacks and watching the cheesiest Christmas films we can find. I can’t wait, I bought them each a bag of their favourite sweets from the American candy shop, it's going to be so much fun!

But that’s next week. Right now, all I want is to sit at a table that doesn’t have an exam paper on it, and eat something very greasy and very unhealthy. There’s a pizza place just on the edge of campus, run by some of the culinary arts students, and they make the best sauce ever. It’s pretty cheap too, which makes it a favourite for most people, especially at the end of a semester, when everyone’s bank accounts are running low.

I have about an hour until I need to be back in the exam hall, so I take full advantage of the outdoor seating and collapse into a chair after ordering. My pizza is brought out to me not long after, and I breathe in the smell. Nothing has smelt more gorgeous than the slices sitting in front of me. It’s a surprisingly warm day, for December at least, and for a moment, everything feels calm. I can hear a bird singing in a tree somewhere, other students are hanging around campus, most with their noses in their phones or in textbooks, and I actually let myself relax for a bit. I’ve done all the revision I can for this next exam, and I’m in desperate need of a break. I deserve this.

I pick up my first slice of pizza, and bring it up to my mouth. As I’m about to take a bite, however, my phone rings. I put the pizza down with a sigh and answer the phone without looking at who’s calling. Mum probably sensed I wasn’t doing any work, and is calling to check up on me.

“Hello?” I say tiredly.

“Angel, hi! Is this a good time??” I grin at the sound of Juliet’s voice.

“Hell yeah, it’s a perfect time! What’s up?”

“Wait, you don’t know why I’m calling?” Juliet says hesitantly. Shit. What have I forgotten now? I know it’s not her birthday. Wait, is it mine?? I swear exams rot your brain, have I actually forgotten my own birthday?

“No…?” I ask after internally monologuing for way too long.

“Oh my god, you don’t know??” Juliet screeches in my ear, “Angel go look at your phone, it’s urgent!”

Now very concerned, I put Juliet on speaker and, for the first time all morning, actually read the notifications filling my lock screen. I open the Twitter news one, and my mouth drops open in shock.

“Holy shit.”

On my screen is a news article with a headline that reads, “THE ARK’S JIMMY KAGA-RICCI AND LISTER BIRD’S SECRET RELATIONSHIP EXPOSED”, and just below it sits a large photo of Jimmy and Lister, standing outside a pub, kissing. I don’t believe it.

“Holy fu- Hold on a second. Mate, isn’t that the pub by Piero’s house?!” I say, bringing my phone as close to my face as I can, as if that’ll help me see better. There’s a loud shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and then I hear a gasp.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Juliet says. “Rowan said they were going on holiday, but I thought he meant abroad or something.” I smile at that. Ever since our little jaunt to Kent last summer, Juliet and I have kept in touch with the boys. We even have a group chat now; us and them and even Bliss is in it. I’m so glad we stayed friends.

At first, Rowan was really quiet, and if he did speak he and Juliet would almost always end up arguing, but they’ve been getting along quite well lately. I’m not saying I ship it or anything, I’ve learnt my lesson there, but I have to say, fangirl-to enemies-to lovers would make a wicked fanfiction trope.

“Did you see any of this coming?” Juliet continues. “Surely Jimmy would have said something to you?”

“He said he was dating someone, but didn’t want to give details because they were taking things slow. Well, that and that celebrity phone hacking scandal freaked him right the fuck out, remember?” I say.

"That's

right, he stopped talking on the group chat for like two weeks, didn’t he?” Juliet giggles back. “Well, nevertheless, I’m happy for them. They’re cute together.”

“Yeah, they are.” I grin again. “Oh my god, poor Rowan though! I’d hate to live with a couple, especially a new one! It’d be nauseating.”

“Oh I know, right? And imagine what’ll happen when they have their first fight!” Juliet gasps again. I shudder at the thought.

“I’m muting the group chat when that happens.” I joke.

“Not a bad idea.” Juliet laughs back, then pauses. “Oh, Angel, I’m sorry I’ve got the get going, but do you want to skype later?”

“Yeah, no problem! I’ve got a revision session at 6, but I should be free by 9ish?”

“Sounds perfect! See you then!” Juliet says, and with that, she’s gone, and I’m back to sitting alone with my pizza.

Jimmy and Lister. Holy shit. I don’t think anyone in the fandom saw this coming. Everything has been about Jowan, since the fandom started growing it’s the only ship that ever existed. No one bothered writing fics about any other pairings. The only Jimmy/Lister fics I ever came across were platonic ones, and even they made sure to mention Jimmy’s boyfriend Rowan.

Oh god, I hope they’re okay. The fans got so crazy when Bliss and Rowan’s relationship was exposed. Jimmy/Lister is the final nail in the Jowan coffin. Jimmy must be having the panic attack of his life! I’ve got to-

My phone rings again.

I look down at the screen, and see Jimmy’s name. I take a deep breath, and answer.

“Jimmy, hi! How are-”

“Have you seen it??”

“Yes.”

“Oh god. This isn’t how we wanted to tell you guys.”

“You sure? Because getting caught by the national press worked so well for you last time.” I tease. Silence. Oops, probably not the best thing to remind him of right now.

“Jimmy, you still there?” I say carefully. There’s a slight rustle on his end, which means he probably just nodded. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise. The fans will move on. They already did with Jowan, right?”

“But what if something happens again? Something like-”

“It won’t. You guys have better security now, and you’re doing less public events. You’re going to be fine.” I hope and pray that I’m saying the right things. Jimmy and I have gotten close lately, but I’m nowhere near as good at helping him deal with his anxiety as Rowan and Lister are. There’s more silence, until finally, Jimmy speaks again.

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah I think you’re right. Thanks, Angel.”

“Course I’m right! If there’s one thing I know, it’s fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs, and I grin back. “And don’t forget, you’re not alone in this. This is happening to Lister too, and no doubt Rowan and Bliss will be there to help you. Just talk to them.”

“Thank you Angel, I’ll go do that now.”

“Perfect! Love you Jim, I’ll text you later.” I say, and the call ends.

He’ll be okay. He’s got too many people who love him not to be. I take another breath and put my phone down on the table. As soon as I do, however, it buzzes again, and I see Jimmy is trying to facetime me. Now very concerned, I answer it and hold the phone up so he can see my face properly.

“Jimmy, are you okay, what’s happened??” I ask anxiously, but he looks fine. He looks at me with a confused expression.

“Nothing, I’m just talking to the others, like you said.” He says. It’s only me and him on the call. I stare at him in silence for a moment.

“Jimmy, mate… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not any of them” I say slowly, and to my surprise, Jimmy laughs.

“Yeah I know, but I was kind of hoping to have you here, too, if that’s okay?” He says sheepishly. “It’s okay if you’re busy, it’s just that… I don’t know, you’re good with this stuff and you make me feel calm? Sorry, I know that’s a lot to just dump on you.” Jimmy doesn’t look at me directly, and I start to feel tears in my eyes.

“Well damn, Jim, I guess if you truly love me that much, I can stick around for a bit.” I laugh, and quickly glance at the time. “My lunch break is only halfway over, anyway, so I have plenty of time to hang out while you talk to the others.”

Jimmy seems to let out a breath, like he’d been holding it, and grins.

Just as I’m about to start talking again, I hear a ping, and Lister’s face appears on screen, followed by Rowan and Bliss.

“Hey Jimjam, you okay?” Rowan asks, looking as calm as ever. “Oh hey Angel.” He adds. I give him an awkward smile.

“Wait, Angel's here?” Bliss interrupts before Jimmy can answer. “Nice, how’s the week from hell going? Didn’t think we’d hear from you until you’d made it through.”

“Yeah it’s rough, but I’m getting there. This is a welcome distraction though.” I grin at her.

“So you’ve seen the pictures then. They look good, right?” Lister chimes in, before correcting himself. “I mean, it’s horrible they found us, fucking pricks, but you’ve got to admit we look good.”

“You can be so self-centred sometimes.” Bliss laughs.

“Come on Lister, this isn’t a joke.” Rowan chides him.

“Well, I guess he isn’t wrong..” Jimmy mumbles nervously and I see him smile a bit.

“See, Jimmy agrees with me!” Lister argues back at Rowan, who rolls his eyes.

“It’s still not something to laugh about.” Rowan says firmly. “Cecily’s already on damage control, cancelling some events, beefing up the security at others, and giving the tabloids hell. She’s also let your grandad know, Jimmy.”

“Wait, aren’t you guys all down there already?” I ask, confused.

“Nah we got back last night. That picture was taken when we went out for lunch the other day. Took their time printing it.” Lister says.

“Probably needed time to pad out their articles. Seriously, how can they write so many pages about two people dating?” Bliss adds.

“Probably whining about how Jowan is now well and truly dead.” Rowan rolls his eyes again. “Although I have to say, I’m pretty happy about that part.” I cringe slightly as he says that. I will never not regret being one of the Jowan fangirls.

“So Cecily’s already got a plan? That’s good, that’s a bit of a relief.” Jimmy speaks up, looking visibly more relaxed than he had sounded over the phone earlier.

“Yeah she’s got it sorted, so we can start planning our Christmas party!” Lister says, making the others groan.

“Lister what the hell makes you think we should be throwing a massive fucking party right now?!” Rowan says, his voice growing louder. Lister goes quiet, looking like he wants to shrink into his seat, before eventually speaking up again.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be anything big, I just mean… Angel, you’re gonna be in London with Juliet, right? Come over, drag Bliss with you, Jimmy can invite his grandad, Rowan you can bring Jade, and there you go, that’s our party!”

“That’s...actually a good idea.” Rowan says, surprised.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun!” Jimmy adds.

“I’m up for it, Angel, do you think Juliet will wanna come?” Bliss says.

“Hell yeah she would, let’s do it!” I reply with a massive smile on my face. Partying with Bliss and the boys sounds like the best way to spend my Christmas London trip. I’ll make sure to tell Juliet about it when I talk to her later. As I start planning all the food I’m going to bring over, and wondering what the boys’ flat will look like at Christmas, the conversation starts up again.

“You sure you’re doing alright, Jimmy? I can come back home if you need me to.” Rowan says, focusing things on the issue at hand again.

“No no, don’t worry, stay with your family. They’d kill me if I made you miss out on spending time with them.” Jimmy jokes. “I’ve got Lister here, and Cecily’s number if I need it. My head isn’t giving me too much grief right now, anyway.”

“Wait, Lister, you’re there with him?” Bliss asks.

“Yeah, check it out!” Lister says, before picking up his phone and moving. He takes us out of what I think was his room, through a hallway and comes out into a large living room, where we can see Jimmy on a sofa looking at his phone. “Say hi to the chat, Jim!”

Everyone laughs as Jimmy gives an awkward wave to Lister’s phone. Lister then hangs up and launches himself into view of Jimmy’s screen, and the two shuffle about until they’re practically sitting on top of each other, faces

squished together so the tiny phone camera captures them both. I hate how cute they look together.

“Alright, if you’re sure, Jimmy,” Rowan says, smiling for probably the first time this whole call.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jimmy smiles back. “This whole situation is terrifying, and I’m more than ready to hide in my room and not see another mad fangirl for the rest of my life, but... if I did that we’d never get to hang out with Angel again.” He finishes, biting his lip as if unsure of whether or not the joke will hit.

“Uh..ouch!” I clap my hand on top of my heart dramatically and laugh, while the others join in. “I’ll have you know I’ve abandoned my fangirl ways. Mostly. Sort of. Okay, not completely but I’m not shipping real people anymore, so that’s something, right?!”

Lister is giving Jimmy a look of what I can only assume is pride for making a decent joke during a time of peak anxiety, Rowan has his head in his hands, probably contemplating his life choices now that Lister seems to be rubbing off on Jimmy, and Bliss still looks shocked that such a joke came out of Jimmy’s mouth, not Lister’s. When things calm down again, I check the time and speak up again.

“Well this has been fun Jim, but I’m afraid I have mad fangirl duties to be getting back to. Shrines to build, fanfiction to write, you know how it is.” I say sarcastically.

“Thanks again, Angel, for being here, and listening. And you’d better be right about that fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs again, although this time I see his smile falter a bit.

“Hey, look at me,” I say, moving as close to the screen as I can without squishing my face on it. “Things will settle down before you know it, in the meantime, we’re all here for you. You’re not alone in this.” Rowan and Bliss nod in agreement, and I see Lister hug Jimmy closer. Jimmy takes a breath and nods as well.

“Thanks Angel. And good luck with your exam. We’ll see you over the holidays.” He smiles.

“Yeah you got this Angel, go smash it!” Bliss chimes in, giving me a thumbs up and a grin. I say one last goodbye to them all, and hang up.

I look back down at my pizza, still uneaten. I need to stop letting myself get distracted during phone calls. I can eat and talk to my friends at the same time. I’m usually a master at it.

“Fereshteh!” I look up again. Either I’m going loony, or someone just said-

“FERESHTEH!” I turn around and see Mollie and Christina barrelling towards me, with the most excitement I’ve ever seen on a students’ face during exam season. They crash into my table and both start talking at once.

“Have you seen??”

“Did you know??”

“How long have they been together?!”

“Oh my god is this why you won’t tell us about what happened in Kent?!”

“Woah, easy on the interrogation! Seriously, you guys need to work on your interview skills.” I put my hands up in surrender and laugh. Mollie rolls her eyes at me.

“So? Did they tell you or what?” She asks again. I roll my eyes back at her.

“You know I don’t want to tell you guys anything about the boys. They trust me, and I’m not going to fuck that up because of some shit a tabloid prints.”

“How dare you appeal to our morality and ethics, we want gossip dammit!” Christina giggles, lightly banging her fist down on the table.

“Then stick to the Twitter pages.” I stick my tongue out at her. Mollie and Christina are two of my housemates, and are part of the Ark fandom. I never planned on telling them about Kent, but they figured out who I was thanks to the pictures of me and Jimmy on the train. I didn’t think you could tell it was me, but fangirls are like master detectives. They figured it out in less than a week. They haven’t told anyone though, they’re good mates.

“So how are you feeling about all of this? Whether you knew or not, having it out in the press like this is a lot to handle, especially after last time.” Mollie says, now in serious mode.

“It is a lot, definitely, but they’ll be fine. They’ve had this happen before and they know what to expect from the fans. I just wish I could be there for them.” I say, sitting back in my chair.

“I get

that, it must suck that you guys are so far apart now.” Christina chimes in.

“I mean it’s not like we ever lived close to each other before. The only reason we even crossed paths over the summer was because I was staying with a friend. But yeah, being away from them all is kind of hard sometimes.” I sigh dramatically, making Mollie and Christina grin.

“Are you going to visit them over Christmas?” Christina asks.

“I’m definitely going to visit my friend in London again, for a day or two, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to see the boys.” I quickly lie. “They cut back on public events but they’re still really busy most of the time. And this,” I gesture to my phone “definitely won’t help.”

“We’ll keep an eye on fandom updates for you, and try to shut any mentions of Jowan down,” Mollie says, reaching across the table and giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I squeeze hers back and give her a grateful smile. I mostly stopped interacting with the fandom after meeting the boys, reading fanfiction, and discussing theories with other fans just feels weird and creepy to do when the people you’re talking about are your friends. So it’s nice that I have Mollie and Christina looking out for them, and doing what I can’t. Christina has a pretty big following on Tumblr, and Mollie’s a Twitter ace, so I trust them to hold their ground with the fandom.

“Okay, you don’t have to give us any details, but genuinely, what do you think of Lister and Jimmy as a couple? Because I don’t think the fandom could handle a breakup.” Christina says after a while, making me laugh.

“Pfft, yeah I don’t think the boys could handle a breakup, either.” I smile. “But honestly? I think they’ll be good for each other. Lister is good at helping Jimmy relax and step out of his anxiety bubble, and Jimmy can help reign in Lister’s chaotic energy. Plus they’re freaking cute together, I mean just look at this picture!” I finish, gesturing dramatically to my phone again.

“They are so cute!” Mollie nods in agreement. “I’m actually shocked no one thought to ship them together before.”

“That’s the Jowan storm, for you,” Christina adds. “Can’t believe we ever shipped that.”

“So gross.” I shudder at the thought. Suddenly the alarm I’d set this morning went off, making us all jump.

“What’s that?” Mollie asks. I check the screen and practically leap out of my seat.

“Oh shit, my exam starts in 10 minutes!” I say, gathering my stuff up as quickly as I can. I say my goodbyes to Mollie and Christina and start running back across campus to the exam hall.

I make it just in time, much to the invigilator’s chagrin, check my bag in at the desk at the back of the hall, and collapse into my assigned seat. The exam starts, and it’s only when it does that my stomach reminds me that I never actually ate lunch. Shit.

I start to silently scold myself for being so stupid, when my mind starts drifting to the video chat with Jimmy and the others. He and Lister looked so comfortable with each other. Makes sense, they've known each other for so long. But even still, Jimmy looked so much happier once Lister sat down with him, and Lister himself practically seemed at home with Jimmy’s arms wrapped around him. I smile at my exam paper.

I’m so happy for them.

#osemanverse #i was born for this #iwbft #bicci #angel rahimi #jimmy kaga ricci #lister bird #juliet schwartz #bliss lai

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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18 19 20 27 28 from the protag questions <3

Ooooo! Lots of goodies! o3o You all spoil me~! X3

Thank you so much! Let's get into it! >:D

18. What is the biggest similarity between your protagonists?

Grey morality. PFFFFT!

I'm serious. I have a habit of creating characters that have questionable methods to situations, but yet can be empathized with or even sympathized with. Fane, Rylen, and Elise all do what they have to do, and it's up to the audience to formulate whether or not they agree or disagree with their personalities and actions.

I'll say this once because I've had people in the past kind of...bash me for it, but just because your character has a specific view does not necessarily mean you as the creator share that same view. That isn't me throwing swings out at self-inserts or characters that are reflections of their creators, this is just how I feel in response to my own characters. I try to disconnect from my characters because I want them to be their own. I build the foundation, give them a name, a history, or a family to influence them, but I don't steer their minds, their decisions. They flow the way they want to flow. Simple as that. Fane is the OC that is most reflective of me, but not with everything. He has his own methods, own reasons for thinking the way that he does and so do I.

I think it has a lot of my fixation on making characters teeter has to do with how I interact with the world in real life. I just...don't see black and white. I give everything the benefit of the doubt and I hold my ground concerning my views even if others might see them as 'wrong' or 'controversial'. I'm horribly analytical and I'm always like, 'But what if...'. That's just...me. XD

But yeah! Grey characters are my vice and I'm not sure if I'm doing it right most of the time, but I try! :3

19. What is the biggest difference between your protagonists?

Mainly how they approach situations and their feelings surrounding leadership.

Fane is rash, doesn't plan, doesn't think everything through before acting or he just outright chooses not to. He tends to make decisions on his own, but mainly only in battle. In more diplomatic settings, Fane is the master of deferral. XD He divvies out tasks that he feels aren't his area from either a lack of interest, a lack of confidence in himself, or just feeling that someone else would be the better option.

Rylen has his moments of brashness, but he's pretty subdued, go with the flow type of deal, but most who know him intimately know he's pretty high strung when it comes to matters where his voice has power. Man's a ball of stress and anxiety. PFFT!

Elise is the calmest out of the three. It was practically trained into her in the Circle. She's also just inherently docile, but after the Blight she does have moments of being feral and unhinged. That mostly happens if one of her companions are in danger or if her own life is threatened. She's not afraid to make her voice heard, either. Generally, Elise is soft spoken, but she will stand up for herself and other people, despite the grief it could cause her.

20. Who handles responsibility the best? And who handles it the worst?

If Fane puts his mind to it, he can handle responsibility pretty well. His want to involve himself deeply in matters doesn't happen until after Adamant and only gets stronger and stronger after Trespasser. Fane is a force when he wants to be and Solas tries to draw that out, to make him realize he can do whatever he puts his mind to. However, Elise would be the best in terms of responsibility. She had a lot in the Circle, even more during the Blight, and a substantial amount as Warden-Commander. Does she wish she could rest? Of course! But she doesn't complain because she knows she can make change. Rylen's okay with responsibility; he becomes Viscount after all. But, he is prone to slacking off at times, but really only after the Chantry explosion. The guy is TIRED. What can I say? XD

All in all, none of them bad at handling responsibility. They just have different ways that they go about it! :D

27. What would their fears on the graves in the fade during Here Lies The Abyss be?

Yes, yes, yes, YES! The question! The big question! The question that leads to Fane and Solas' first kiss! AHAHAHAH! >:D

Elise - Betrayal. This is more in terms of Elise towards herself and her own actions. She's afraid that everything she's ever done has been one great betrayal to everyone and everything she has ever cared about. She had no choice but to witness Jowan become Tranquil, Alistair, so hurt and angered by her decision at the Landsmeet, abandoned her to face the possibility of the death alone, her faith was sundered after the Broken Circle, making her fear her magic for the first time in her life and making her wonder when she would become the very monsters she had just finished killing. The list goes on. Elise made so many decisions in service to the world, but she silently wonders when it'll all come crashing down around her, when everyone will leave her because they'd been betrayed.

Rylen - Wasn't enough. Rylen wrestles constantly with the fact that he's never been strong enough. He wasn't strong enough for Carver; the ogre ripping him from their family and pounding into pulp. He wasn't strong enough for Bethany; unable to protect her from the templars, so he opted to take her to the Deep Roads, thinking it would be safer, but it wasn't. He wasn't strong enough for his mother; his eyes focused on the horizon rather than the ground that began it all.

And he hadn't been strong enough to end Corypheus for good. We all know what happened wasn't Hawke's fault, but Rylen the master of blaming himself for everything, so that's one event he dwells about every. day. every. night.

Last, but not least, FANE. *sounds the horns* You ready? You ready?! >:D

Fane - To be forgotten. That's right.

That's Fane's biggest, deepest fear; to be forgotten. I know there's only been a few chapters of my main fic that kind of reference this, but you know how Fane constantly says to himself, 'I wish I could be forgotten. It would be better if I would just disappear and be forgotten.'? Yeah, it's a front. He's trying to convince himself that that's what he wants, but in actuality, it's reversed. He's terrified, terrified of being forgotten by the world, by his sister, by the Inquisition...

...by Solas. That's the worst person who could forget Fane. And around the time of Adamant, Solas and Fane being the stubborn fools that they are, act as if they haven't known each other for fucking centuries even though the truth literally screamed at them after Haven. They were lost together in the mountains with that truth hanging between them, and still they ignored it because it hurt and they both felt they didn't deserve the hope that they could be together. Fane attempts to unearth some lost memories, some lingering feelings, but Solas wasn't ready and guided them away from that unopened bag, refusing to let Fane in on his agenda or allowing him to help in any way. It gets to a point where Fane starts to believe Solas doesn't actually recall their relationship, who he is and he spirals pretty bad in the Raw Fade when that tombstone is glaring at him.

When Solas sees it...he cracks. Quietly, in his mind, but he realizes how stupid he'd been, how stupid they had been. The truth was looking at him in two tones and he ignored it out of fear. It's what spurs Solas to take Fane into the Fade and show his dragon the place where he had endeavored to make sure the other would never be forgotten. Solas also makes it clear that he had never forgot Fane, ever.

"I could never forget you, my dragon. Your memory lingered within the halls of my mind even as I slumbered. I am but a fool, a fearful fool. I thought it kinder to let you live a new life, unburdened by my burdens. I do not wish for the past to repeat itself, to see two tones ebb away and breath leave your lungs once more.", Solas said, eyes downcast, pained grimace housing sorrow, grief, and despair in its curves. "...But, it is not kinder. It is more agonizing to try and forget than it is to remember. Though, I have never tried to erase you from my memory nor have I tried to abandon what I felt for you--what I feel for you.'

Fane frowned, tugging on the mage's forearms to bring him closer, urgently, but timidly; Solas didn't even protest, but his eyes remained downcast. "What do you feel, Solas?", he asked and received no answer. "What do you feel, Solas?! What can't you forget?!", he repeated, voice echoing off the halls of death and remembrance. He needed these words, he needed to know!

What did the sky feel?! What did it remember?! He just wanted one damned answer in this upside down world!

Solas' eyes shut slowly, chest rising with a deep inhale. "I..", he started, but paused again, face twitching with hesitance and reservation. "No, it's not--!"

Fane growled low. "Enough! If you won't tell me,", he barked, yanking Solas forward by his arms, barely registering the grunt of surprise that left his lips, and shot his hands up to hold a bewildered face. "...then show me!"

I tease~ >:3

-----

28. What is their favourite location within their own game and what would be their favourite in each others?

I answered this ooooonnnneee HERE! >:D (I would just copy and paste, but it LONG. ADHDKS)

And there we have it! Beautiful! Perfect! And FUN! X3

#asks #ask #dragon age #oc: fane lavellan #oc: elise amell #oc: rylen hawke #woo! all asks answered! :3 #these were a lot of fun! the questions were different and interesting too! X3 #thank you so much again! <3 #guys i drabbled again #this is how i get my inspiration surprisingly enough #i just have a lot of solavellan feels and it's only doubly with fane and solas ;3;#solavellan

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tabikato · 4 years

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Hero, Chapter 11

Read all chapters here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24980170/chapters/60475255

Standing at the lake's edge Hue breathed in the cool night air, wind gently tousling hair as stars rippled on the water. As if they were glowing fish flitting along the mirror surface. In the shadows of clouds stood the island tower, imposing in its height but with a feeling of loneliness. His idle thoughts trailed to what it would be like to live there, to never leave there...to remain inside and rarely feel the grass beneath his feet, the wind cooling his skin. Sounds of leaves gently playing their tune overhead, the chittering noise of an animal traveling through brush for its next meal or shelter. Without freedom...the thought alone suffocated his very soul, like ropes tightening across his body...threatening to cut off his blood, his air. Maybe if he had never known it he would not desire it so but even still, could that be called a life?

Whether he thought so or not was irrelevant, they were here to enlist the mages’ help to save Connor. The others were in the tavern behind, taking in what little rest they could after their travels here. It hadn’t been easy. Sibylle’s guess that Connor had been the one possessed was the right one, forced into the presence of a child whose face twisted in hellish delight. Not a face someone so young should ever sport. When the demon realised they were there to stop them, they sent a controlled Teagan and guards after the group, running to hide further in the castle. It didn’t take long to knock them out, setting Teagan’s mind back. Isolde begged them to save Connor, to free him from the demon now housed in his soul. Which seemed like an impossible task to him except…

Jowan had spoken up, offering his services to bring a mage into the Fade. There they could defeat the demon’s hold and free the boy without harming him. Of course it required a lot of lyrium and mages which they were short on but he could still perform...with blood magic. A willing sacrifice to die for Connor, to save him. Isolde immediately jumped at the chance...anything to save her son but Sibylle had stepped up. With a slap across the blood mage’s head, she took command of the situation easily, informing the group they could get the needed lyrium and mages at the Circle of Magi. It would be a week’s trip but Teagan and Alistair both agreed it was the better choice. Nobody had to die. Decision made, they left Jowan and Teagan to watch the boy and quickly headed towards the Circle, taking rest only when they really needed to.

“Ah, what a picturesque view. The whole imposing tower on the lake really must do wonders for tourism.”, a lean figure plopped down next to him, stretching his arms above his head and throwing a grin his way. Another odd bump in their road had been this man; Zevran. Odd how it was just two days ago but seemed more distant. The elf sat close by, breathing in the same air but chatted away about...anything really. It was like him and Alistair had this need to fill silence because the silence scared them for some reason. Not that Hue minded, listening to Zevran prattle on was relaxing in its own way, ironic since the man had tried to kill him. Crimson eyes looked over the other once more, taking in tan skin and brown eyes filled with as much mirth as his lips were. Wheat-coloured hair was tucked behind his ears, laying gently along the back of his neck. It stood in contrast against dark skin and the weathered green and brown of his armor, like the strands had soaked up lots of sun. Not gold like Sibylle's but it was still pretty in his eyes and looked soft. Another striking feature (which he had a lot of Hue mused) was the black tattoo along the left side of his face. It started at the end of his left brow and curved down in smooth lines along his cheek and ending at his jawline. Just one of others on his body, Zevran had said with a wink when Hue asked about it. It made him think back on how they met...

Zevran waited by the upturn cart, twirling an arrow between his fingers to pass the time. The other Crows hidden, checking their own weapons or idling about but eyes firmly on the path ahead. His job this time was rather simple; eliminate the stray Wardens and any who travel with them. Far be it from him to question why someone would want to kill off Wardens or hire this many Crow to do so, a job called for the best and that was why he was here. Luckily they had to wait no further as their bait walked up the path with the group in tow, a smile on her face that mirrored his. Amber eyes locked on to the red ones, suspicion turning to recognition but it was too late. With a signal of his hand, the group was surrounded by Crows and a log pushed to block their exit. It was fight or die. Angry red met him once again but this time he had pulled out his bow, arrow aimed right at the elf’s head.

“The Gray Warden dies here!”

With that sentence the battle was set, arrow released straight at Hue who...caught it without blinking and pulled out his own bow. Oh, shit...that was actually kind of sexy. Wait. The arrow that was meant to end the gray warden was now embedded in the cart next to his head, making him realise he was severely at a disadvantage with long range. No worries, he can close the gap. Pulling his daggers out, he gave them a twirl before rushing towards the shorter elf, dodging a few more arrows. Screams and explosions created a symphony to their fight and he swung both down above the other. Alas, the elf had thought to use his bow to block. It was a stalemate, he tried to kick the other in the chest but the slippery archer jumped back, dragging him along by the blades. When the other moved to retaliate Zevran also dodged, stumbling them both but eyes never left the other. Okay, he’s got this, he’ll simply sweep the other’s legs out and get him to the ground. Easy enough.

Or so he thought, what he hadn’t expected was the other man to let go of the bow, making him stumble forward. In mere seconds his blades hit armor and a forehead crashed into his, blurring his vision for the first shot. Another crack and it grew dark, body losing momentum as he crashed to the ground in a heap. The last thought that raced through his mind was what in Thedas did Wardens eat to have such hard heads?

He wasn’t sure how long he was out and honestly, he was pretty sure by this point he was dead. So when his eyes fluttered open he didn’t expect to see curious ruby-like eyes staring down at him. Hair in the colour of dandelion covered some of his face but it was close enough to his that Zevran could make out every inch. From the tanned skin marked with curving green tattoos, Dalish in nature now that he thought of it, to the sloping of the nose close to his. Hair stood up in places, poofed out in others but also cupped a handsome face. It looked soft as well as lips that were drawn in a rather charming frown. Close enough to see sweat gathered on smooth skin, the string of muscles on his neck taunt as he looked over the felled assassin. Huh. Maybe he did die after all.

“Mmm...what? I...oh.” Blinking again the sensation of pain firmly made itself known in his head, ah, “ I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven’t killed me yet.” His voice came out strained, not missing the snort of a laugh from the other.

“Nah, decided I wanted to torture you first.” That voice was...rather rough for such a youthful face. Gritty but not that deep and the grin was rather cheeky, baring teeth in a teasing manner. Huh, interesting.

“Oooh, so you kept me around to have a bit of fun, did you? Hmm.”, he grinned back before lifting up on his elbow with a grunt, “But the purpose behind torture is usually to interrogate, yes? In that case, despite the potential for fun, perhaps I’ll save you a bit of time and get right to the point.” Now that he was sitting up properly he gave the other elf sitting on his haunches another once over. Unfortunately the armor kept any illusions of his physique a mystery...ah, such a shame.

“Oh?”

“My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Gray Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly.”

“Which I’m happy about.”

“Haha, I suppose you would be, yes.” Curious eyes kept trained on him, tilting his head a little as if trying to figure him out. Like a dog cocking their ears, cute.

“What are Antivan Crows?”

“They’re an order of assassins out of Antiva, highly respected and highly dangerous.” The pretty red-head behind the elf cut in but that only seemed to make the warden more visibly excited.

“You came all the way from Antiva?”

“Not precisely. I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see.” A hum was his response, the unfiltered look of curiosity made him want to laugh. He had just tried to kill this man, failed of course, but honestly he should be showing more anger or caution about this.

“Why are you telling me everything?” At this innocently said question Zevran had to laugh.

“Why not? I wasn’t paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely.”

“Aren’t you at least loyal to the people paying you?”

“Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you’re done interrogating me, we can discuss it further.” Shifting to a more comfortable position he didn’t fail to see how curiosity seeped further in, making the elf lean in a bit more. Within this distance he could easily kill or kiss the man but odds were both actions would end with his life forfeit so he just settled on charm.

“I’m listening.”

“Are you actually entertaining this? He’s probably lying through his teeth Hue.” Ah, so the elf’s name was Hue, that’s an interesting name. The human in question wasn’t wrong in his caution but maybe the elf’s curiosity was too much or maybe this Hue felt he was useful somehow, either way he was given a chance and he was going to take it.

“Well, here’s the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That’s how it works. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.” Emotions read easily on Hue’s face; surprise was the first before melting into thoughtfulness. Luckily the man seemed rather strong because being that easy to read was a quick way to get yourself killed in certain situations. Hopefully they never have to set foot in Orlais.

“Serve me huh”, he chewed on those words before speaking again, “Can I expect the same kind of loyalty?” Zevran scoffed, fake offense lacing his tone.

“I happen to be a very loyal person. Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing. That’s not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you’re the sort who would do the same thing. In which case I...don’t come very well recommended, I suppose.” A chuckle exploded out of the shorter elf, breaking the rest of the tension between them.

“No worries there, I don’t expect you to die for me”, he tilts his head again, “what stops you from finishing the job later?” Ah, a fair question.

“To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child.” Brows drawn down; sadness, pity, good...so this one had a heart, “ I think I’ve paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can’t touch.”

“Me.”

“You. Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me just on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I’d rather take my chances with you.” Plus Hue was much better to look at than his previous employers which was a bonus. And he didn’t expect him to die, talk about a lucky break.

“Won’t they come for you?”

“Possibly. I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself, as well as you. Not that you seem to need much help.”, grabbing that arrow out from the air pretty much cemented that, “And if not...well, it’s not as if I had many alternatives to start with, is it?” The silence passed between them for a moment, rendering his earlier verdict of the elf being easy to read a bit moot. Honestly he had no idea what was going on behind those crimson eyes, whether this Hue would take the bait or simply determine everything he said was bullshit. Of course he was a master at keeping his cool, not showing an ounce of tension in his body as he stared back. This seemed to make the warden grin, a light chuckle passing his lips.

“You must think I’m royally stupid, huh?” Ah, so it was the latter. Which was a little irritating because he had been the most honest he’s ever been. Maybe he could double down, talk his way out of this...or whatever, what does he have to lose at this point.

“I think you’re royally tough to kill”, he grounded out before tilting his head slightly, “and utterly gorgeous. Not that you’ll respond to simple flattery. But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a handsome man.” Shrugging his shoulders he decided to screw it all and lay out all his honest thoughts, if he’s still killed after this then it is what it is. Bored eyes flickered back to the warden’s face and ah...oh. There was no mistaking the blush that coloured the other’s cheeks, eyes wide. When their gaze met Hue turned his away, adorably flustered, clearing his throat to gain back some control over his features. Now this was definitely interesting and if things worked out, a very alluring bonus.

“What do you want in return?” Hue was trying to be serious but the tone came out in almost a pout, what an innocent soul this one was.

“Well, let’s see. Being allowed to live would be nice, and would make me marginally more useful to you. And somewhere down the line if you should decide that you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?”

“And? What can you offer?”

“I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more...sophisticated...now that my attempts have failed.”, his grin grew bigger as he went on, “I also know a great many jokes. Twelve massage techniques, six different card games? I do wonderful at parties, no?”

“Okay, fine.” The warden raised up from his haunches, rubbing the back of his neck as he finally willed away the last of the blush.

“What?! You’re taking the assassin with us now?! Does that really seem like a good idea?” The human’s voice pitched up, waving his hand in Zevran’s general direction in disbelief. Hue blew some of his hair up, shrugging his shoulders at the other.

“He can be useful...besides, Gray Wardens enlist all help, right?” The other warden pouted a bit, seemingly trying to find a way to argue that but coming up empty.

“I suppose...I see your point.’, he sighed in resignation, “Still. If there was a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello.” Another chuckle from Hue, looking more relaxed at the other’s reluctant approval.

“Are we truly in need of him? I find it unwise to invite the reason you must sleep with one eye open along”, a dark-haired beauty spoke up from across the way, standing next to a rather gorgeous blonde. Well...he certainly did pick the best team to join, all the women here were exceptional beauties.

“I suppose if he did try to kill them again we could simply punish him”, this time the blonde spoke, arms slightly crossed underneath her chest. Hopefully that involved rope. A hand appeared in his view, trailing it up to his new employer...leader? Details weren’t really that important. He graciously took the hand, being pulled to his feet easy enough with a strong grip.

“I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation...this I swear.” Gripping the hand back just as tight, he gave a firm shake to seal their oath. However, Hue didn’t let go right away, pulling Zevran closer in with a surprising amount of force until their noses were only inches apart, voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

“You better be.” A feral grin graced his lips, soaking in Zevran’s surprised look before he let go and turned on his heel, signaling for the group to move out. Well, that was probably more sexy than the warden intended it to be. If he placed his bets he would probably guess Hue was trying to be intimidating to get back at him for earlier, however, it definitely wasn’t intimidation Zevran was feeling.

“Hey Hue”, looking up he saw the other warden address the other, making the elf turn back to them, “earlier in that fight, you grabbed that arrow right out of the air! How did you even do that?” Oh, yes, that. That was definitely a question Zevran would love to hear the answer to as well, it had certainly burned its way into his memory. Hue went rigid, lips a thin line as his eyes went a bit wide...why was he suddenly frightened like that?

“I...I thought I was gonna die and reacted”, words forced out, nerves colouring his pitched tone, “ I have no idea how I did that.” Zevran blinked; once, twice...so it was all just pure luck? Suddenly the other Warden belted out, holding his stomach from guffawing at Hue so hard. The chain reaction was instantaneous, Hue’s nervous expression melting into his own boisterous laugh. The red-head and blonde women chuckled behind their hands, very much amused with the situation whereas the other scoffed, rolling her eyes in boredom. The qunari also did not seem to find the humour in this, rubbing the bridge of his nose but everyone could feel that any lingering tension was gone. Gone was the battle from before, the bloodthirst, the killing. Now they laughed, the Wardens making jokes at the other as the group marched forward, with their new addition of course.

Which brought his thoughts back to the elf currently sitting by his side, eyes scanning over the clear surface in thought. Hue usually responded much better to his rambling, asking questions and eyes swimming with curiosity but now he seemed...introspective. Which is an odd state for him to be in if Zevran could tell from getting to know him the past few days; Hue’s curious and energetic nature was a driving force for all of them. Though he supposed that was unfair to say...even someone as extroverted as him would have times like this, yes?

“Zevran…” The Antivan perked up, Hue’s voice loud in the stillness of the night air.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Oh? This should be good. Go ahead”, elbow on his lifted knee, he put his cheek on his fist, looking over at Hue with a grin.

“Why did you want to leave the Crows?” He knew this question was coming, it was only natural the other would be curious. It wasn’t like he made it a secret that he hadn’t wanted to stay.

“Well, now, that’s a fair question. Being an assassin, after all, is a living at least as far as such things go.”, he shrugged lightly, “I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it?”

“But what would you rather do?” He opened his mouth before closing it again, amber eyes studying the other’s face. Honestly...he had no idea, nobody had ever asked him that before or rather, nobody cared to. What he wanted out of his life never mattered in the long scheme of the Crows and his choices...those certainly hadn't mattered. Still, why was his mind drawing up such a blank...he could lie to most anyone but Hue’s innocently spoken words gave him pause. Maybe it was because nobody had ever shown genuine curiosity of who he was before...

“Now that you mention it, I am not entirely certain”, he breathed out, looking at the lake, “I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased. For three sovereigns, I’m told. Which is a good price, considering I was all ribs and bone and didn’t know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end. The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing else but murder. And if you do poorly in your training, you die.”

“That sounds...awful”, his nose scrunched up, anger mixed with pity as he could see the gears turning in Hue’s head.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. The Crows who are actually good enough to survive come to enjoy some of the benefits”, leaning back on his hands, he looked up at the stars with a chuckle, “In Antiva, being a Crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth. It gets you women...and men, or whatever it is you might fancy.” His eyes moved to the side, lingering on Hue’s with that last hurried sentence.

“Ah.”

“But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always. And it means being expendable. It’s a cage, if a gilded cage. Pretty. But confining.”

“So you have no freedom…”

“My dear Warden, what is freedom anyway?” Hue turned to look at him, confusion on his face, “I suppose you have lived free with your emotions and choices and that is what you know to be so. But a bird raised in a cage only knows it’s cage, what is freedom to it other than death, yes?”

“No, a freed bird can learn to live outside its cage if it’s brave enough.”, he watched the Warden shift uncomfortably, eyes downcast, “though...I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to force it to. Is it wrong of me to think everyone deserves the freedom to choose whether to live in the cage or outside of it?” Zevran watched Hue’s gaze move to the ground, shifting his feet awkwardly in the dirt and he too felt awkward. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle Hue’s kind nature but it was nice to know that someone out in this world gave a damn.

“No, I don’t suppose it is.”, laying back on the ground, he put his arms behind his head, tracing the patterns in the sky above, “As for what I’ll do in the future...presuming that there is one...I truly can’t imagine. It might be interesting to go into business for myself, for a change. Far away from Antiva, of course. For now, naturally, I go where you go.”

“I’m happy to have you along.”

“And here I am, happy to be had! Isn’t it wonderful how things work out that way?”, his laughter carried on the wind, making the ends of Hue’s lips quirk up in a smile, “now if only I had more things I fancied this would be a remarkable night.”

“Oh, what is it you fancy?” Hue snorted, looking down at the other amused.

“I fancy many things. I fancy things that are beautiful and things that are strong. I fancy things that are dangerous and exciting”, his eyes locked onto Hue’s, smirking, “Would you be offended if I said I fancied you?” Again that beautiful blush bloomed right over his cheeks, visible even in the dark and Zevran reveled in the way Hue flustered. It was such a stark contrast, to see the usually hyperactive man turn shy with just a few well-placed words.

“Not at all…”, came the murmured reply, lips turned down in a pout, “wait...you said you fancy all of that then you said me? Does that mean you think...I’m…?”

“What? Dangerous? Strong? Handsome enough to turn heads even in a Chantry? Surely you know all this, yes?” Zevran watched as Hue gaped, eyes wide as the blush started to spread down to his neck but he wasn’t hiding his gaze now. Instead he was turned where he could stare at the Antivan openly, floundering with thoughts that he couldn’t quite get out so he simply shook his head.

“I…”

“You?”

“I just…”, clearing his throat, he rubbed the back of his neck, a rather adorable expression on his face, “...I’ve been flirted with before but...nobody’s ever said so many things like that so honestly. I mean...is it honest?”

“I gain nothing to lie about this”, Zevran sat up, leaning in closer to the other with a smile, “besides, I know what I like and rather be honest about it. Life is too short to hide away like a cloister sister.”

“Hmmm...is everyone in Antiva like this?”

“Antivans are passionate by nature, yes, but I like to think I have an extra special something, hmmm?”

“Yea, you do”, Hue smiled back, shyness completely erased as he laid his chin on his knees, “you’re fun to be around Zevran and handsome too. I’m glad you sucked at killing me.” Cheekiness lit up crimson eyes as Zevran laughed, head thrown back in genuine mirth.

“I’m talented in many things but I could-”

“Suck well if given the chance?”

“You know me so well already.” Hue slapped Zevran gently on the thigh before both men dissolved into laughter. Tonight had been rather educational to say the least, now he knew his Warden was of a similar persuasion. Of course he’ll wait and see for more information but it would be an excellent opportunity between all the darkspawn and the killing if they could escape the world with a bit of fun. He’d love to see what other wonderfully open expressions the other could make in the right situations.

“We should join the others”, with a helping hand, he stood up and watched Hue walk to the tavern, staring very openly at his backend. Now if only he could convince the other to ditch the bulky armor for something much more...fitting.

Back in the tavern Hue joined up with the rest of his friends, sitting next to Alistair as Leliana was reciting yet another tale. He watched her eyes light up, showing such passion for the stories she weaved beautifully. Maybe one day there’d be tales of them and their adventures...hah, as if. Of course that’s not what he was there for, tapping Alistair on the shoulder to get his attention. Zevran came to sit nearby, listening to their lovely bard but not above eavesdropping on the two Wardens across from him.

“Here”, digging through his bag, he pulled out what looked like a pendant, handing it over.

“This...This is my mother’s amulet.”, Alistair handled it carefully, looking it over this way and that with awe, “ it has to be. But...why isn’t it broken? Where did you find it?”

“I found it when we were in Redcliffe castle”, he continued, ignoring the scolding the other was about to give, “in the study. Was trying to find some sort of handy explanation but found that instead.”

“The arl’s study?”

“Yea.”

“Then he must have...found the amulet after I threw it against the wall. And he repaired it and kept it?”, confusion creased his brows as he slowly turned it in his hands, “I don’t understand, why would he do that?”

“You probably meant more to him than you think”, Hue stole the tankard in front of Alistair, taking a swig as the human was engrossed with his thoughts. If he stared any harder he might just set the thing on fire.

“I...guess you could be right. We never really talked that much, and then the way I left…”, a shaky sigh left his lips before he shook his head, looking at Hue with fondness, “ Thank you. I mean it. I...thought I lost this in my own stupidity. I’ll need to talk to him about this. If he recovers from his…when he recovers, that is. I wish I’d had this a long time ago.”

“That’s what I’m here for, to help with your stupidity”, Alistair snorted at that, watching Hue’s grin grow as he drank.

“Did you actually remember me mentioning this?”, a nod from the elf, warmth blossoming in his chest, “Wow. I’m more used to people not really listening when I go on about things.”

“Huh? Sorry, did you say something?” An elbow met Hue’s side and he laughed, drinking the rest of the tankard before slamming it down. Zevran watched intently over his own drink; the playful, almost boyish nature of the two wardens. One wouldn’t imagine that these two were the only ones around who could stop this Blight but a childish nature is much more preferable to a leader who cares for no one. Which Hue cared, too much in his opinion, but he supposed that’s what the rest of them were here for. Taking care to protect that “flippantly careless nature” as Morrigan so lovingly called it.

“Hey! Hue, that was my drink!” He laughs when Hue jumps up out of his chair, moving across the table over to him with a wink to escape Alistair’s indignant tone. Things were going to be very, very interesting indeed.

#dragon age origins #dragon age #zevran arainai #zevran x mahariel #hue #fanfic #Tabi's writings

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thessalian · 5 years

Text

Thess vs Gut-Punches

My friends are too good to me and I am in way less pain now.

My agency is not too good to me and I am going to punt them through a waaaaaaaaaall.

However, in my continuing bid to keep my mind off this bullshit once I have done everything I can conceivably do to ameliorate the situation, I have been watching YouTube. Specifically, “Heartbreaking moments in video games”. Now, I don’t disagree with any of the ones mentioned - Red Dead Redemption, FFVII, The Walking Dead S1, The Last Of Us ... okay, maybe a few questions about the “Alistair broke up with me in Dragon Age: Origins” one because that is so easy to avoid even if you aren’t a human noble, but if you didn’t see it coming and made the wrong choices I can see it being a gut-punch. Just ... I feel that a few are just outright missing. So I’m going to make my own list of gut-punch moments, from my own ... somewhat abbreviated game experience.

I mean, Dragon Age. There were waaaaaaay worse gut-punch moments depending on your origin, and since the origin the YouTuber was talking about was Circle Mage, let’s start with being asked to betray Jowan ... only to have him abuse your trust. From there, let’s move on to seeing your home of many years covered in the blood and bodies of your teachers and friends, and swarming with demons, and having the Templar who had the massive crush on you scream ‘abomination’ at you and then demand you kill your own mentor just because he might be possessed. And then let’s talk about House Cousland - no more need be said about that, but at least you get the satisfaction of putting a sword through the problem’s face and then letting the problem’s son redeem the family somewhat. Aeducan - running into Gorim and finding out how little time it took for him to move on was a blow. Brosca - traitorous little shithead of a friend. And then there’s Mahariel, and to have Tamlen come back so close to being a shriek, begging you to end it for him... AAAAAAAAAA.

And don’t even get me started on Dragon Age 2, where you basically lose one family member per act, possibly in increasingly horrible ways, and then unwittingly abet the destruction of the Chantry, thus leading to massive casualties both from the initial blast, the mage rebellion of Kirkwall, and the spreading rebellions that set just the right conditions for Corypheus’ machinations in Inquisition, even ignoring what we did in Legacy. While the Inquisition base game kind of lacks impact on that score in and of itself, it’s impossible to play without realising that your former character helped set half of this off.

Inquisition even has its moments. I mean, I haven’t done Champions of the Just yet (mostly because my characters wanted to evaluate the benefits and risks of all sides and then couldn’t just leave Tevinter with a foothold in Ferelden), but In Hushed Whispers just ... okay, a lot depends on who you bring, but while Varric is obviously heartbreaking there, the one that really got to me was Sera - how she talked about just shooting and shooting until she ran out of arrows in vengeance. Blackwall just ... seeing his fate as no less than he deserved. (And of course, the scariest part is if you bring Solas, because finding out who Solas actually is ... the fact that red lyrium can do that to him ... gaaaaaah!) And of course there’s Leliana - “You have as much time as I have arrows” ... and more, because she used her own bow as a weapon to buy those last couple of seconds and ... yeah, sobbing. The less said about Trespasser the better. I have never taken this option, because I value the Chargers way more than I value a nebulous alliance with the Qun and don’t think I could do it even on a more pragmatic character because a trusted mercenary group is worth its weight in gold, but I cannot imagine how I’d feel in that game hearing ‘boss’ turn into ‘bas’ from Iron Bull. I think the Solas thing could have been handled better, but that was also pretty gut-wrenching as was. It just ... wasn’t as much so as what we saw in the two previous games.

Aaaaaaaand then there’s Mass Effect. I can’t speak to Andromeda, but ... come on. Virmire in 1. I mean, full disclosure - I had somehow managed to miss spoilers for this game and I honestly thought that if you did just the right things, that you could save both. I mean, going back for the bomb meant not having to waste time cutting through enemies to get to the main attack site, and the mission brief said that the strike team might be able to make it to minimum safe distance ... I honestly thought right up until I went to talk to the salarian survivors that I could save both. I was wrong. I cried. A lot. Horizon in 2, with your best friend and possibly more looking at you like you’re the enemy and you can sort of see his point but you just wish you could explain... Hell, the Normandy in 2, after getting the IFF - I thought I’d be okay but it just looked so empty in there and aaaaaaaaaa! As to Mass Effect 3 ... there needs to be a way to pause cutscenes. There does, I’m sorry. This is an accessibility issue, okay? When Mordin went up in that elevator, and after with Wrex, I could not see the screen through the salt water on my glasses and I could not hear over my own sobbing and I could not stop.

Now, a lot of my video game experience is MMOs, and not even those are exempt - even the ones I started playing specifically because I didn’t really want the feels. FFXIV, I was just ploughing through the story for the challenge and then all of a sudden ... Haurchefant. Consider: I play a lalafell - tiny adorable red-haired lalafell, and I was maining White Mage at the time, so all robed and looking about as delicate as you can get. I mean, fine, has helped kill Primals, but... Anyway, point is that there’s that one freeze moment, so imagine it, if you will - tiny red-haired baby-faced sweetheart, obliterating blow aimed at her ... shielded by that loveable dork because Heroism. Woe.

Guild Wars 2 was supposed to be my faff game, my casual game. Except then I hit higher levels (mostly due to obsessive gathering and crafting) and picked myself a faction. It was hard to pick on a Mollychae, but in the end I went for Order of Whispers because it seemed a good place for a saboteur ... and that’s when I met Tybalt Leftpaw. I wasn’t sure if I was going to like him, and then I decided I adored him and just wanted to scritch him behind the ears, like, forever. And then he went and had himself a heroic death and @true0neutral can vouch for my reaction being, “Waitaminit - no! Wait! This isn’t supposed to happen! I actually liked him! He can’t die!” (And then I checked IMDB for his voice actor and saw something I didn’t really want to see: in no world do I want to see Blighted Tybalt Leftpaw. My heart cannot take it.) Of course, not long after that, we had that whole thing where the Pale Tree visionquest happened and @true0neutral told me that my answer to a question asked there would determine what happened in the further bit, which is how I lost Tonn, another one I reeeeeeally liked. So Guild Wars 2 is basically the game in which I go, “Oh, I like this character! ...I have now jinxed them; they are going to die...”

I’m sure I have a lot more heartache to come, because so many games as yet unplayed, but I think all of this is enough. So a note to my D&D group - if you ever wonder why I manage gut-punches of the heartbreaky type as well as I do? I learned from the best.

#Thess loves her Tumblr friends #Thess plays video games

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sky-scribbles · 6 years

Text

Party Banter with Inquisitor Jowan

(Brief explanation: this is an AU in which the Hero of Ferelden tells Jowan to run in Redcliffe. He adopts the alias ‘Levyn,’ and later adds ‘Trevelyan’ when he joins the mage rebellion and starts masquerading a former resident of the Ostwick Circle. And then he ends up at the Conclave.)

Vivienne: I wrote to an old friend at the Ostwick Circle, Inquisitor. I’m afraid to say she didn’t remember a Levyn Trevelyan.

Jowan: Oh. Well, I… kept to myself a lot, and… and I wasn’t very... accomplished. So she probably wouldn’t remember me.

Vivienne: I find that surprising, having seen your abilities on the battlefield. You have some difficulties with controlling your magic, certainly – nothing that further instruction would have fixed had this ridiculous rebellion not sprung up – but you clearly have a great deal of potential.

Jowan: My Circle didn’t agree. They nearly made me Tranquil.

Vivienne: Indeed? I’m sorry to hear it, my dear. It would have been a great loss for the Inquisition had they done so, and to the Circles. But they saw something in you, and decided you were strong enough to face the Harrowing. Be proud of that.

Jowan: … Right.

Jowan: So, how long have you been a Warden?

Blackwall: I prefer not to count the years. Reminds me of how much silver’s growing into my beard.

Jowan: I don’t suppose you ever met the Hero of Ferelden? Or... did you ever speak to someone who’d met him?

Blackwall: I never had that honour. I travelled on my own, recruiting, never stopped by the Warden outposts. As far as I can tell, even the Wardens don’t know where the Fereldan Commander is now. Why do you ask?

Jowan: Oh, I, um... It’s just that I always looked up to him. From - from when he became famous after the Blight, I mean.

Blackwall: Hardly surprising. A Circle Mage gains his freedom by joining a great cause, then saves the world? You must see something of yourself in him.

Jowan: No. But I’d like to.

Varric: So, Disaster -

Jowan: What?

Varric: That’s you. Disaster. Look, after that incident with the druffalo -

Jowan: I – I didn’t mean for it to happen! I thought I had it under control -

Varric: Exactly! That’s why you’re Disaster.

Jowan: [Sigh] I deserve that.

Cassandra: Trevelyan, may I ask where you stand on the rebellion?

Jowan: Behind it.

Cassandra: Hence your presence at the Conclave. You don’t support the Circles, then, or the Templars, or -

Jowan: The Templars who keep the Harrowing secret, so you dread it for years and you’re so scared that you'd do anything to avoid facing it?

Cassandra: I didn’t -

Jowan: The Templars who throw innocent people into Aeonar? The Templars who hunt those who escape as if they’re animals? The Templars who just won’t stop staring? The Templars who make you afraid to even have friends, because they could be taken away from you tomorrow and – and then you’ll have lost the only person who was ever on your side -

Cassandra: This sounds personal. I didn’t mean to reawaken bad memories.

Jowan: It doesn’t matter. I need to remember those things. I don’t know what kind of person I’d be if I let myself forget.

Varric: You all right, Disaster? You’ve seemed a bit on edge ever since Redcliffe.

Jowan: What? Oh. It… it was just hard seeing…

Varric: Seeing the rebellion let itself down like that? Yeah, they messed up, but it all worked out. There’s no need for you to beat yourself up over their mistakes, ‘specially after everything you went through to fix them. What happened in Redcliffe wasn’t your fault.

Jowan: [sighs]

Dorian: That young man we saw in that other future, the... the one who killed himself before the demon could take him. I know you’re thinking about him.

Jowan: I’m trying not to.

Dorian: Look, I don’t know the full story. About who he was, I mean. But I do remember what you said there. About -

Jowan: Dorian!

Blackwall: What’s he on about?

Jowan: Something I said in that dark future in Recliffe. You heard it - the you in the future, I mean - but when we went back, you forgot, and -

Dorian: Actually, when we returned to our proper timestream, he and Varric never heard your little outburst at all.

Jowan: Please, don’t ask what it was about. I only said it at all because I was upset, and afraid. And now I can’t share it with anyone else.

Blackwall: You’ll get no argument from me. Everyone has their secrets.

Dorian: Anyway, if you need to talk about... about the contents of the outburst which shall not be discussed in earshot of our illustrious comrades, I’d be happy to buy you a drink in the Herald’s Rest later and let you rant to your heart’s content.

Jowan: Thank you.

Sera: I saaaw you.

Jowan: Saw me… when?

Sera: Out for a stroll. You. You and the lady Josie.

Jowan: What? I – but – we were – just talking –

Sera: Talking leads to more than talking. You too shy to get on to the more-than-talking part? ‘Cause I can drop some hints for you –

Jowan: No! No no no no no! No! [coughs] Please, Sera, I… I don’t know where this is going. I don’t know if it’s even going anywhere. Or if it should.

Vivienne: Inquisitor, dear, might I have a word?

Dorian: Why do I get the feeling that you actually want to have the word with me?

Vivienne: I’ve already received a few letters from acquaintances, asking whether it’s true that a Tevinter magister is secretly instructing the Inquisitor in necromancy.

Dorian: Firstly, it’s far from secret. Secondly, I’m teaching him entropy magic. If he wishes to refine it into necromancy – which, lamentably, he does not – that will be his choice. Thirdly, I am an altus.

Vivienne: I’m sure the maleficar-fearing nobility will greatly appreciate those distinctions.

Cole: I picked the lily because it was so beautiful, but then it withered and died. Blood on the stones, bare, breaking, everything burning as she turns away.

Jowan: ... What did you say?

Cole: It wasn’t your fault. You wanted to protect. First you wanted to save yourself, and then you wanted to save her. Good intentions shattered, scattered like blood on the Circle floor.

Jowan: It doesn’t change anything. If you meant to do something good, but all you ever do is hurt people... Cole, none of those people would have had suffered if I’d just never existed.

Cole: Flowers for Falon’Din on a stranger’s grave, rifts sealed and safe, warm wool given to waiting hands. A barrier raised, travellers shielded from blighted claws by a mage without a chain.

Cole: They’re glad you exist.

Solas: Why entropy magic, if I may ask?

Jowan: Well… back in the Circle, I kept trying to learn primal magic. My best friend was studying it, so I thought if I focused on it too, I’d have someone to help me when I got it wrong.

Solas: If you took your failure for granted, it is hardly surprising that you struggled. So, you have discovered a talent for a different school of magic?

Jowan: It was Dorian’s idea. I’m... actually not bad at it. I never thought I’d be any good at entropy. It just didn’t seem much like me.

Varric: Disaster, if you want to meet someone who really doesn’t match the kind of magic they’re best at, I need to introduce you to Daisy.

Cassandra: The most important thing to remember is that you must not obsess over landing hits. In a duel, it’s less important to slice your opponent than it is to make sure your opponent cannot slice you.

Jowan: Right. Avoid being sliced. How do I do that, exactly?

Blackwall: Keep your body angled – never show your front if you can help it. Give this bastard a smaller target to hit at.

Cassandra: Remember, you may actually have the advantage in strength, if not in experience. You are used to wielding a mage’s staff – far heavier than a rapier. You may be able to use that to your advantage.

Blackwall: But don’t treat the foil like a staff. Those swishing things you do with a staff will leave you completely exposed.

Jowan: [low moan] I’m going to die.

Cassandra: Nonsense. We will train you from dawn until dusk if necessary.

Blackwall: And you know you won’t be able to live with yourself if you don’t do everything you can.

Jowan: You’re right. I… I’ll fight to stay with her. To deserve her. I won’t just let her go. Not this time.

Iron Bull: All right, boss, I need to make a list. The Chargers are begging me to tell them about all the weird crap you’ve gotten into.

Jowan: Can we all just never talk about… any of it… again?

Iron Bull: So in the fallow mire, you walked right into some mud pit and sank up to your eyebrows –

Jowan: I was trying not to be killed by undead. I… really don’t like undead.

Iron Bull: In the Exalted Plains, you spent half an hour stuck inside the ramparts, looking for the way out –

Jowan: That place was like a maze!

Iron Bull: In Emprise du Lion, you got knocked into a pit by a darkspawn in Valeska’s Watch. Four times!

Jowan: I’m still not great at targeting my Fade-stepping. [pause] No mention of the bear incident?

Iron Bull: Nah. Even I don’t ever want to talk about the bear incident again.

Blackwall: Inquisitor, I... need to thank you. What you did - standing up in front of the entire Inquisition and telling them who you really are -

Jowan: It was no braver than what you did in Val Royeaux.

Blackwall: My crimes are a thousand times worse than yours. I didn’t know those children were in the carriage, but I knew I was killing innocent people. You thought you were doing some good.

Jowan: I knew I was poisoning a man. A man with a wife and a son. And I knew how wrong blood magic was. But I did it all anyway. Still… that’s not the point. This isn’t about which of us is worse or which of us is braver. It’s about the fact that we’ve both got a second chance now.

Blackwall: And I intend to make the most of it. Thank you.

Jowan: Thank you. If I hadn’t watched you own up to what you’d done, I might never have done the same myself. When they brought you before me, I knew I couldn’t judge a man for the same crimes I’d committed myself. I knew… I had to tell the truth.

Varric: Josephine knew, right? You told her the truth before your dramatic revelation to the rest of us?

Jowan: Of course! I think Leliana might have killed me if I hadn’t. She recognised me as soon as we met, and when she realised I had feelings for Josephine, she was, um, rather insistent that -

Varric: Wait, wait, back up, Disaster. You’d met Sister Nightingale before?

Jowan: Sort of. In Redcliffe, when I was imprisoned, she was there with Firion - I mean, with the Hero of Ferelden -

Varric: Firion? As in, Firion Surana?

Jowan: I was never in the Ostwick Circle, Varric. I was in Kinloch Hold. Firion was... he was my best friend. He was like a brother to me. And I betrayed him, but… somehow, he never hated me.

Varric: Later, we’re sitting down and talking through the details. There’s a story here and I don’t know it. That never sits well with me.

Cassandra: So, Dorian - you knew?

Dorian: Absolutely. Why, are we still bitter about being left in the dark? Still determined not to speak to him? Still letting out exclamations of disgust every time he enters your presence?

Cassandra: It would have been bad enough had it been only Blackwall who was lying to us. But for the Inquisitor - the face of the Inquisition, the man all southern Thedas looks up to, the Herald of Andraste - to be a maleficar, the man responsible for the horrors in Redcliffe during the Blight -

Dorian: Did you see him in the dark future, Seeker?

Cassandra: I don’t see what -

Dorian: You didn’t. Neither, technically, did Varric, Leliana and Blackwall. But I did. I saw him fall to his knees as that young man, Connor, burned himself alive. I saw the look in his eyes as he told us who he was and what he’d done, why we shouldn’t trust him to lead us, how he could never save Redcliffe, seeing as he’d almost destroyed it. If you’d seen that too, I doubt you’d be so quick to condemn him.

Iron Bull: Hey, boss, back me up on this one. That witch’s kid. There’s something off about him.

Jowan: Off how?

Iron Bull: [grunts] Just a gut feeling. He doesn’t act like someone his age should. You see it too, right? I’ve seen you staring at him.

Jowan: He’s a bit strange, but that’s not why I’ve been watching him. Something about him… he looks a bit like…

Iron Bull: Like one of those creepy kids from a ghost story?

Jowan: No. He just reminds me a bit of an old friend, that’s all. And I know his mother knew –

Iron Bull: Knew who?

Jowan: It, um, doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.

Solas: Inquisitor.

Jowan: … Solas?

Solas: There’s no need to look at me the way a startled nug looks at a fox.

Jowan: You’ve not been talking to me much recently. I thought you were angry.

Solas: I was, when I thought of how you ran from your blunders. Your ignorance and negligence caused unimaginable suffering. But was the result of years of being taught to fear yourself. You have accepted your guilt and acknowledged the harm you caused. Now you have learned to face it, and you have done what you could to repair the harm you caused.

Jowan: I hurt Lily. I can’t fix that.

Solas: You have become a man who would not hurt the one he loved in such a way again. That is a brave thing to be.

Cole: You tried to help. You didn’t understand, and you got it wrong. Like I got it wrong when I killed the mages. I thought it was right and it wasn’t.

Jowan: That doesn’t make it better.

Cole: No. You hurt people. But you know that, so you don’t hurt them anymore. You help them. Like I do.

Forgiven, free, forging a new life in his own name, Rainier, feeling real as he faces it. Because you let him move forward.

In the library, sharing the silence, soothed by the sound of you turning pages. A southern mage, of all things – and he laughs at the thought, laughs properly inside, because having you as a friend makes laughing easy.

Quiet before the fireplace, warm and right in your arms. She thinks of the steel flashing in the city square and nearly shivers, but she doesn’t, because when you hold her the world is bright and soft and nothing bad can happen.

You came into their lives, and you made them better. You want to look at what you’ve done and smile, because you know you’ve helped. And you should. You think you don’t deserve to smile, but you do.

Jowan: Maybe I do.

Varric: Word around the Keep is that you’re planning an expedition, Disaster.

Jowan: Yes. Dorian and Blackwall and Cole are definitely coming, and if anyone else wants to… well. No one has to. It’s a personal thing, not an Inquisition thing.

Varric: Let me guess – the standard ‘person reveals their true identity, then sets out to right the wrongs of their past’ mission?

Jowan: Um… yes. I’m going to Aeonar. They say it’s abandoned now, no one knows what happened to the people who were there. If I can, I’m going to find Lily. Avenge her, and everyone else, if the worst has happened. And if she’s alive, do what I can to make amends to her.

Varric: You’re really getting the hang of this ‘new life’ thing.

Jowan: I think I might be. I finally found the courage to talk to Connor. Leliana helped me get in touch with Firion, and he still fusses over me like a mother hen. I’m never going to use blood magic again, and the Circles don’t exist any more. They never will again if I can help it. No more Tranquillity, no more stupid young mages scared of their Harrowings and scared of themselves. And… I have all of you. I have the Inquisition. I… have Josephine. Somehow. Don’t ask me what I did to deserve that.

Varric: Saving the world? Maybe even making it a little better than it was before? Giving us all a good laugh? I think you’ve earned yourself a happy ending, Disaster.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #jowan #inquisitor jowan #skyhold gang #party banter #looks like i finally found a quick way to summarise this au #i'm working on writing the story of The Redcliffe Breakdown (tm)#so that might happen soon #sky's writing #tw: sucide mention #inquisitor x josephine #josephine x trevelyan #long post

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october-rosehip · 5 years

Text

When your incidental side characters defend their own novel... WIP

The ferry pulls up against the pier with a whump and a splish. I am so grateful to be at the end of this stupid, miserable journey that I let out a sigh of relief.

It may be a prison full of humans, but it isn't a wagon and I can probably get a bath. Whatever happens next, as long as I'm not chained to a bench next to Eadric, it'll be an improvement. I might not have to kill his pedantic ass.

Mine is the last boat. Robin, Iris, and one of the templars are on it with me. Everyone else is milling around the grounds, trying to look unimpressed, only that's hard because look at that thing.

The tower stands on the rocky island, taking up most of it. I have no idea how this thing hasn't collapsed under its own weight, but it isn't about to. It stands stubbornly above us, shadowing everything around. It looks black in the twilight, with a sparkling of light from arched windows here and there. I have to admit, I'm impressed. I've never seen anything so tall, or built with so much care.

“How come there's only one boat for this whole, giant place?” I wonder. I don't know I speak aloud, but I must, because Kester answers me.

“It isn't often so many come and go at once, miss. Maybe three or four times a year that happens. Most of the comings and goings are food shipments, or a few mages and templars transferring to and from. The next time you ride Lissie, it won't be such a wait.”

“I'm... likely to ride her again?” Mages can leave? And why is he being so nice? I have the strangest urge to tell him it was no inconvenience at all, thank you ser. Like I asked for this and the wait was a minor inconvenience to my holiday plans.

He laughs. “You're certain to, eventually. Only one boat, remember. You may go to another circle, or work for a noble, someday. It's me that never goes anywhere, nor my father and grandfather before me.”

“Oh.” Oh? Is that the best I can do? I'm not usually this rude, I swear. I'm just not used to humans being... deferential. That's the word. He's acting like he's here to serve me, and that's new. Also, this is the first I've heard about being able to leave, again.

He ties the boat to the dock and between him and the templar, whose name I still don't know, the three of us get lifted out. The templar is the ice-man, though. I would never be so calm standing in a boat wearing all that metal. He'd sink like a stone if he slipped. The back of my mind tells me to trip him. I don’t.

“Thank you,” I say as soon as my feet are on solid, well, boards. Robin and Iris follow my lead.

“You're very welcome, you three.” Kester helps the templar out as well, unties the boat, and heads back to shore.

Maybe someone inside has been waiting for us all. Maybe there was a signal? The huge doors swing open. An old, bent human man steps through. It's warm out, but he's wearing all the robes ever and looks like he needs them. Everything my entire family has ever owned isn't worth half what his clothes must have cost. I don't know what the fabrics are, but they look soft, and are green and black and heavy with embroidery.

“Welcome, welcome.” he says. “I am First Enchanter Irving. I am certain this has been a long and trying journey for all of you. As the dinner hour has passed, sandwiches have been set out for you in the entry hall. Most of the apprentices have retired for the evening to the dormitories. You may choose any unclaimed beds you wish. If they are unmade, they are available. Bathing facilities are also prepared for you. Please make yourselves at home.”

Robin and I shoot a glance between us. This old man is obviously important. He doesn't volunteer to answer questions, but he bothers to welcome us, specifically? Why go to the trouble? What's in it for him?

I guess it doesn't matter, right now. I can be stubborn and grumpy, or I can eat a sandwich and have a bath. I mean, I'll probably do all the above, anyway, but the first shouldn't prevent the rest of it.

The entryway is really impressive. Everything is arches, stained glass, and stone. And no, I have no idea what kind of stone. It's blue-gray. I'm not up to noticing much more than that anyway, once I spot the baskets of food and jugs of drink. I smell bread, and my stomach cheers. Loudly. I can't even try to play it off. I no longer care about stained glass because there is food.

What? Seriously, this bread is still warm. If you haven't eaten all day, see which you care more about: bread or architecture.

Maybe this is all an elaborate trap, or they're trying to get us to let down our guard. I don't know why they'd bother, mind you. They've got us. So, whatever. I demolish a cheese, sprouts, and mustard sandwich. There's cider to wash it down with.

When everyone's done, we head down a corridor. We walk past huge, iron doors with a complex set of massive bolts and locks. I already know I'm a prisoner, so that isn't what stops me in my tracks. It's the light.

Steady, warm pools of light fall to the floor from the lamps, no, chandeliers- I've read about those- above us. Those are not candles. The very light is magic.

“What's wrong, Turnip?” asks that asshole from Highever. “Never seen ceilings, before?”

I scowl at him. “Look at it, though.”

Everyone looks up. I've made something of a career from the fact that nobody ever does that, unprovoked.

“Glowlights,” says Eadric, like it isn't any big deal at all. “They're enchanted.”

“What, did you have them at home?”

“Of course not. They're far too expensive.”

I may have to kill him after all. (I’ve never actually killed anybody, I swear. I’m just very testy, right now.)

“I get you,” says Robin. “Magic, out in the open. Like it's normal. Expected.”

“Yeah.” That is what I mean, all right. I've had to hide my skills always. Here they use magic to light the hallway.

This will maybe be fine.

I stop holding us up and we head into the dormitories. There are two of them, even though it looks like more. Each one is so big it has two doors. I head into one at random, and it looks like this one is mostly youngish kids. A lot of them are asleep, already. There must be room for forty or fifty people to sleep in here. Besides that, there are chessboards, writing desks, bookshelves, and squashy pillows. Humans about my age are playing chess, cards, or some goofy looking game involving a beanbag. There are no elves. All the humans stop to look at us and I suddenly don't want to deal with this. I know it won't help, but I want to move on to the next room to avoid how they're looking at me.

Some of the others are braver. Eadric walks up to the first bunk he sees, and simply occupies it, like he's always been here and it's been his, forever. Fine for him, but I check out the next room.

It looks just like the first one, and humans still stare. I am prepared, this time. Robin and Iris find a top and bottom bunk together. It is right in the middle of the room. No, thank you. I look at the corners.

I'm starting to think I have been too slow and might have to go back to the first room when I spot a top bunk in the darkest corner. It's near the front of the room but not really in direct view from the door. That'll suit me. I beeline right for it, but falter. Three dark haired people sit on pillows on the floor beside it, a card game in progress between them. They turn to look at me.

The pale, tall human man with kind, blue eyes looks surprised to see me. The copper-skinned human woman across from him smiles at me. It reaches her whole self, like I was perfectly expected.

But then I see the third.

Oh, cute boy. I have found the one elf apprentice, and he is beautiful. He has to know it, to spend that much time on his hair.

And I can't do this, anymore. These three already belong here. They're all so... lovely, and obviously a tight group. Can I really just insert myself into their space? I decide I cannot, and spot another bunk not far away...

And the cute mage boy's ears droop. I'm turning away, and he's disappointed. He also makes no attempt to hide it.

Who does that? Didn't anybody ever teach him how to control his face? He's just signaling whatever he feels to anybody who knows how to look at the admittedly subtle movements of our ea...

Oh. Duh. Only elf apprentice. Been here almost a decade, already. Is about my age. Got it.

I turn back to them. “Excuse me, I'm supposed to find a place. Is that bed open?” I know darn well it is, of course.

“It is,” says the girl. She stands and offers her hand. “I'll be your downstairs neighbor, then. I'm Silvana, and these are Macsen and Jowan.”

“I'm Nisha. Pleased to meet you all. I. Ah, please don't think I'm being rude. Is that where the baths are?” I think I smell soap from the partially sectioned off part of the room near us.

“Yes. Don't worry, we've all been there.”

Cute boy gives me a half smile and doesn't say anything. After listening to Eadric explain everything to me like I'm four all week, I'm grateful.

#Dragon Age #Rosehiporiginal #Jowan #Silvana Amell #Macsen Surana #OC Nisha #Strange Luck #Sort of #Nisha is very insistent

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musingmycelium · 5 years

Note

“Who cares about what they think?” For any pairing you want

It would be dangerous, however tempting. Obvious too, unless Noure could figure out a way to hide clean red lines on pigmentless skin. Lines weeping crimson anger, fueling Noure's next and last escape. Freedom coming at the price of their own blood.

Worth it, Noure decides. They can almost see it -the open sky and starry night, a room they share with no one else. Able to hold hands and kiss cheeks without fear. Study and speak with the spirits lingering and pressing against the veil instead of hurrying away without listening. It's what they've wanted for the past six years.

All they've wanted the past six years. Torn from their life when it was just about to begin, ripped from everything they knew and thrust into everything they feared.

But they wouldn't have met Karl or Anders if they hadn't been taken.

And that's what damns them the most, isn't it? Because they would trade everything to have never been taken to the Circle in the first place and yet they're doing everything now to make sure they don't escape alone.

Consumed with their thoughts Noure isn't paying much attention as they make their way to the hidden side room where they're supposed to meet with Anders and Jowan. It's one of a handful, each chosen at random at the place before. Keeping their meetings secret, shared only between the three of them. Noure slides aside the shelf blocking the door and slips inside, after checking to make sure they're absolutely alone.

Only Anders is inside. A single candle sitting on the floor beside him, this room is more of a broom closet than an actual study. But it suits them well enough. He turns his head to look at Noure as they enter, a split second of cold fear in his eyes before it melts when they realize it's just them and not some templar or tranquil.

"Oh, there you are. Started to worry no one was going to show tonight." The upturn of his lips and the eyebrow he raises don't seem too concerned though. Neither does the hand he reaches out with to tug Noure down beside him.

So Noure pays it no mind and rolls their eyes. Slides down to sit shoulder by shoulder with Anders on the floor, knocking their elbow into his side. "Jowan was supposed to be here first. Something happen?"

Anders shrugs, a haphazard roll of his shoulders against Noure's. "Not that I know, that's why I was worried."

Taking a deep breath Noure nods. Mulls it over for a moment, making a list of all the different ways this could have gone wrong. "We need to leave tonight, it's too dangerous to wait another night if he didn't show."

"I thought you might say that. So I already checked to make sure the guard rotation is clear. We should have half an hour if we leave now."

Gut churning just as it has every time before. Noure stares into the small flame of the candle, imprints the feeling of Ander's warmth against their skin. "Let's go then, tell Karl." Standing up Noure runs through a mental checklist of sorts to calm the adrenaline beginning to hum through their veins. "And if anything happens. I've got a backup plan."

Anders looks up at them, a strange light Noure has only recently started to become familiar with burning in his eyes. "Do you now?"

"I do." They almost reach for their wrist, with its single traitorous line still etched in harsh red against the pale white. Almost, just a flick of a motion before Noure stops themselves.

But it is more than enough for Anders. Standing quickly, holding out his hand expectantly. A guarded look falling across his features as Noure's heart begins to race inside their chest. Air becoming thick between them when Noure doesn't offer out their hand in return.

"What did you do." Quiet, insistent, heavy. Anders' hand is still in front of him, waiting for Noure to answer. Wanting the truth or a lie Noure doesn't know, they only know the price has already been paid and they would do it again in an instant if it meant freedom.

So they extend their hand. Let the loose robe fall back from their wrist to expose the still fresh line drawn across the delicate skin with a knife earlier in their room, alone. No longer bleeding, because blood is valuble and Noure has already used those drops which wept from their veins. A promise made to see the open sky and starry nights again.

Anders sucks in a harsh breath. Long fingers encircling Noure's wrist as he wraps his hand around the healing cut. "Noure what did you do."

Touch light and gentle, a healers touch. "I did what had to be done so we can be free."

"It's too dangerous! You can't let anyone see this. If they do they'll think you're a blood mage, that the rumors are true!" Harsh whispers in a hidden broom closet, Anders stepping closer until the pair of them are nearly pressed together. Noure's hand held between them.

They rip their wrist out of Anders' grasp. "Who cares what they think! What matters is that we'll be gone and safe and no one will find us to take us back ever again." Words hissed, frustration leaking through. Noure has to tilt their head back to look up at Anders and they regret it when they see what lingers in his eyes.

A cold fear, an excitement, dread and longing and hope. The longer they look the less Noure's heart skips. This is Anders, this is the man they trust, he's safe. How could Noure have doubted his conviction to see freedom would have been any less than theirs.

They stand there, not a hair's breadth between them, for a long moment. Hearts racing in sync. Anders breaks it with a nod and a hurried, "Half an hour, we have half an hour."

Noure takes a deep breath, holds the stale air of the Circle in their lungs and lets it out with a rush. Thinks of the air outside and how it will taste when they breath it once more.

"Let's go."

#dragon age #dao #da2 #anders #suranders #so UHHHH #NOURE HUH #NOURE IS PRETTY COOL #PRETTY GOOD #god they're a disaster #i love them but mmm! their story is gonna go some places #my writing #noure surana #the grey warden's queue #ironbullsmissingeye #writing:noure

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vulptilla · 6 years

Photo

My actual oc page has been under construction since forever, so I promised to make some kind of an introduction post for my canon trio.

Long story short, meet my precious all-mage panel. From left to right, there is a disaster bisexual blood mage Faenel Amell, another disaster bisexual blood mage Katla Hawke & the most purest cinnamon roll Iliana Trevelyan, a former Tranquil who has done nothing wrong in her entire life. Behind the links you will find their own specific tags cluttered with art, screenshots, memes and various other stuff about them.

Katla and Iliana even have their own faux Wiki pages, commissioned from the most awesome @tk-duveraun. <3

Their “short” bios can be found under the cut.

(Oh, and now when I remember, this is probably the best time to mention that I’m also up for all kinds of rp and other oc interaction stuff, too.)

Faenel is a former Circle mage who never particularly enjoyed his life in the tower, but he didn’t hate it either, at least not enough to attempt escape. He was always interested in studying blood magic (purely academically, of course), but nevertheless he was surprised to learn that Jowan, his best friend and occasional lover, had dabbled in it. He knew he should have known better, but still agreed to help He knew he should have known better, but still agreed to help Jowan and Lily with their plan—and as we know, everything went downhill from there.

Under different circumstances he even may have not agreed with being recruited for the Grey Wardens, but in his rather hopeless situation he didn’t even consider refusing Duncan. In retrospect, getting away not only from the tower but also from the Knight-Commander’s wrath was the second best thing that had ever happened to him.

The best was meeting Morrigan. He became fascinated with her intelligence, sharp wit and overall unique way of thinking, but unfortunately he was such a selfish prick back then. When Morrigan asked him to slay Flemeth, he agreed to do it, but when Flemeth offered him a way out of it, he took it and lied Morrigan about it. He didn’t expect it would matter, not until he agreed to perform Morrigan’s ritual with her. He didn’t care anything else than surviving the upcoming battle, and he was mighty fine with knowing that Morrigan would leave afterwards.

After the battle Morrigan was indeed gone and Faenel was the celebrated Hero of Ferelden. He spent a couple of months in Denerim court as a honor guest of newly crowned King Alistair and Queen Anora. For a short period of time he truly enjoyed all those luxuries and privileges he had, but soon he realised that everything tasted like ashes. He felt empty inside and didn’t really like the person he had become during his time in the court. His past deeds and aloofness haunted him, and after carefully planning everything, he left the capital to begin his search for Morrigan. He had realised that he actually wanted to be part of his unborn child’s life.

He found Morrigan and they spent a couple of years together with the baby Kieran, until he finally told the truth about Flemeth. Morrigan wasn’t *that* angry with him (basically meaning that she didn’t murder him at the spot), acknowledging that she might have done the same, but it didn’t change the fact that Flemeth being alive was a threat to Kieran. They agreed that Faenel should leave to find her and finish the job.

His search for Flemeth lasted for years, taking him to foreign countries and uncharted lands, but it all was in vain. He patiently followed her tracks for years only to find out that she had already left way before his arrival—but he never gave up. He wanted to do this one thing right in his life.

After a few years of unsuccesful searching the Mage-Templar conflict forced him to turn back and travel to Skyhold. He didn’t expect to find his family there, and he most definitely didn’t expect to hear that Morrigan had drunk from the Well of Sorrows and thus become bound to Mythal—or in other words, Flemeth.

— — —

Katla was never part of the Circle, due to her parents’ efforts to keep her hidden from templars, but she grew to fear and loathe the Order and its’ ways nevertheless. She grew up praying every day for safe return of her father who used to take various mercenary jobs to keep his family fed.

By the time the Blight forced her family to flee Lothering she had assumed the role of the protector of her family. She blamed herself for Bethany’s death. She swore that she would not let anything bad happen to Carver. She wanted to keep him close, but she also wanted to protect him from harm, and her trying to have control over her brother’s life only drove him more apart. She didn’t take him with her to the Deep Roads expedition only to learn that he had joined the Templar Order during her absence. They fought over it, and in result Katla refused to speak to him anymore, feeling betrayed by her own brother. She later realised that she was wrong about it, but they were never able to fix their relationship during her time in Kirkwall.

She never wanted to resort to blood magic, but it simply seemed to be the only choice for a mage who wanted to survive in Kirkwall. She despised herself for it, but she saw no other way to protect her loved ones from harm.

Soon after meeting Anders she became infatuated with him. They basically made the rest of their friends mad with their constant flirting, but they both happened to have too much on their plates, thus they never took the next step in their relationship. They stayed close friends, and after a few years of loneliness Katla ended up with the templar Thrask. Their relationship was highly inconvenient and they never able to be together openly since it would have given too much leverage to Knight-Commander Meredith who was known to be preying on any opportunity to knock Katla — the Champion of Kirkwall and a fierce defender of mage rights—off her pedestal and drag her into the Gallows.

After Thrask’s unexpected death she became more desperate that she had ever been before. She had always used alcohol to cope with her past failures, but now she didn’t even want to leave her estate anymore. Anders was there for her, comforting her and keeping her from any further self-harming than she had already done to herself. They grew closer, but agreed to not bring any kind of romantic aspect into it, feeling that they would be only taking advantage on each other.

After defeating Meredith they escaped the city together and were never seen again, not until Varric contacted Katla and invited her to Skyhold.

— — —

As the eldest child of two, Iliana was raised to become the heir of her noble family, but instead she was sent to the Circle as soon as her magic manifested. It was a big surprise—and disappointment—to her parents, but they never abandoned their firstborn child. Lord Trevelyan’s money ensured that she was kept safe from harm in the Circle, and she occasionally got to meet with her family. She adjusted to her new life quite well, although she was somewhat afraid of her own powers and never enjoyed her mandatory spellcasting lessons as much as she did enjoy studying magical theory in solitude in the quiet library. She was particularly interested in spirits and the Fade.

She was in her teens when she began to have terrifying nightmares. She told her mentor about her nighttime struggles and the mentor—who was genuinely concerned of her wellbeing but also a firm believer of traditional ways—suggested that she should undergo the Rite of Tranquility. She was afraid of her upcoming Harrowing and ended up agreeing with her mentor.

When the Mage-Templar conflict broke out, most of the Tranquil mages were left to the wolves, but Iliana’s mentor took care of her. They both attended the Conclave, and in result Iliana was cured of her Tranquility by being touched of the Spirit of Justinia. She was brought to Haven to be questioned. No one seemed to care of her highly unstable state of mind, not until she met with Cole, who was the first to truly understand and be able to help her with her struggles.

After some time she realised that she realised that she had fallen in love with Josephine. Her advisor was always gentle and kind and never aggressive or coarse. She felt comfortable in Josephine’s company, which couldn’t have been said of her other advisors. Cullen’s background made her extremely uncomforable, and she also found Leliana intimidating (until she found out their shared fascination with nugs).

As the Inquisitor Iliana did her best to restore peace and help her fellow mages whenever she could. After learning the truth about the Rite of Tranquility and the Seekers of Truth, she became devoted to fight for Tranquil rights.

Iliana ended up preserving the Inquisition as a peacekeeping organization under Divine Victoria (namely, Leliana).

#dragon age #the oc introduction post #my oc: faenel amell #my oc: katla hawke #my oc: iliana trevelyan

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midgardianwinchesters-blog · 6 years

Text

Century Secrets

Summary: Bobby’s having One Of Those Kind Of Days when Dean Winchester calls about a woman on a case.

Pairing: None.

Warnings: None really? Like wow, in all my time of writing, I’ve never really written something with no warnings. I guess alcoholism? Allusions to depression maybe? Like seriously I’m basically scraping things together here.

Word Count: 2057

A/N: Having a rough go of it and I realized that I should really post at least something besides my one (1) drawing. So I was writing something just to write and vent. I kinda like where it’s going, though? If I have the energy to, I may turn this into a series. For now it’s just a stand-alone insight to the life of Bobby Singer. (And also a kinda behind the scenes of Dean?) (Also this does count as a reader insert, but it’s kinda hard to make out. As if the reader were a fly on the wall, listening to Bobby Singer and Dean Winchester talk about her. Kinda weird, I know. Oh well.)

Bobby Singer was not a man to be easily disturbed. With patience a mile wide, the old hunter had weathered things other men his age would have-- quite sensibly-- had a heart attack over. He preferred not to think on those things, especially on days like today, when every phone in the house rang back-to-back; there were a few times that Bobby had a phone at each ear, balancing two different conversations while he tried, sometimes unsuccessfully, to drink at a tumbler of whiskey. Sometimes there were just those days, when the supernatural world seemed to be especially active and Bobby was left to hop between textbooks, internet sources and phones to help the contacts that called in for assistance. Today was one of those days-- magnified by a hundred.

It was somewhere around ten-thirty when Bobby finally found himself not talking to someone. The house seemed to press in on him with the sudden silence, momentarily reminding him of just how lonely the place could be, and how secretly thankful he was to be needed, to be too busy to dwell on exactly why the house was so empty. He blinked back to the present and put down the phone he’d been holding to his chest after the woman on the other end hung up, momentarily lost in the intrusive thoughts that sometimes gnawed at him. He closed his eyes and puffed a short breath out through his mouth, disturbing the hairs on his upper lip enough to make his nose crinkle with the sensation. On nights like this, when he could feel the weight of the hunting life bearing down on him, it was easier just to grab a whole bottle of spirits and find a place to sit outside on the porch to watch the stars float endlessly, listlessly by. So that’s what he did.

Bobby sat down on one of the porch steps, idly swirling the contents of the cold glass bottle in his hand as it hung between his knees. His back crackled and popped as he slumped backwards and rested against the porch post, eyes cast upward. It was a good night for stargazing, for sure. The breeze skittered by, tracing along his skin lightly enough to raise goosebumps along his arms where the sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, but it was an otherwise pleasant evenin-- RingRingRing. . . RingRingRing. There was a long moment that Bobby continued to sit, listening to the shrill pitch of the phone as it rang persistently, almost as if he’d planted himself on the porch for spite. He quietly counted the rings, hoping that the problem-- for once-- wouldn’t be so urgent that he was actually needed. But the phone continued to ring, and he knew it was close to the last ring before it went to voicemail. He finally pushed himself to his feet with a low groan, the world tipping under him before he righted himself and made his way to the landline. It was on its last ring when he picked it up.

“What?” Bobby asked, the irritation in his voice echoing tauntingly around the cluttered tomb of a living room. The voice at the other end of the line took a long time coming, as if put off by the greeting it received. When Bobby finally heard who it was that was calling after the long pause, he sat down heavily, the couch cushion swallowing him up. His joints welcomed the soft reprieve.

“. . . Er, if it’s a bad time, I can call in the morning,” Dean Winchester said. Bobby could hear the confusion in his voice. He let out a long breath and propped his bottle on his knee to watch the dim ceiling light reflect off of the cloudy glass.

“No, it’s fine. You’re fine. Just been a long day.”

“You been desk jockeying all day?” There was shuffling in the background, and another voice, faint but noticeable: Sam, asking something or another, to which he was shushed.

“‘Fraid so. But I don’t s’pose you called to have a late night chat,” Bobby grumbled. “What do you need?”

“Maybe another night, Bobby. Right now, if you can, I need you to look up a name for me: Clarke O’Clarice,” Dean said. There was a sound of scrunching paper, as if he were unfolding a note or crumpled piece of stationary close to the phone. The growl of the Impala engine echoed faintly in the background. The growl of Bobby’s stomach, however, was loud as it flipped in his abdomen. He’d dreaded the day anyone uttered that name again. He didn’t notice he’d not responded until an impatient “Bobby” came from the other end of the line. He cleared his throat to loosen the knowledge that had suddenly clogged it.

“Where’d you run across that name?”

“Sam and me are working a vamp case in Columbus. Went into the morgue this morning as some feds to look at the vic and there was a chick already there. Gave us the badge-- which, despite the circumstances, actually looked pretty good for a fake-- and the whole ‘I’ve got this one covered, don’t need your help’ spiel. Sam and I booked it pretty quick from there, ‘cause most of her stuff checked out at a glance. But I got to thinking about it all again, and she looked bangin’ in a pantsuit, right? Especially from the back, like, this woman’s ass--”

“Dean,” Bobby could hear from the background. Sam’s exasperated chastisement started the brothers in on a momentary lapse of familial bickering, to which Bobby quickly snapped them out of.

“Whatever,” Dean huffed away from the phone-- probably at Sam. “So anyway. Point of that was, when she was turned around, with her hair all pulled up and whatever, I could see the top of an anti-possession tattoo on the back of her neck. It hadn’t really registered until we were on the two-seventy loop out of Columbus. At first I thought she might’ve just been one of those Edlund fans-- y’know, we’ve met a few people here and there that have the tattoo because of his books. Or. . . Our books? The books. But I figured I’d call you just to make sure. At this point in our life, you’d think we would’ve heard of all the hunters around, but guess not.”

Bobby rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, eyes shut tight against the rest of the house. It was a struggle of conscience to decide whether or not to tell the boys the knowledge that thumped at the inside of his skull with every beat of his heart. . . But then again, it was probably the booze doing the thumping more than anything. He suddenly wished he was soberer and less sleep deprived. If he was going to lie around this one, he’d want to do it clean, with no holes for the boys to rip through and call him back about. But as it was, he couldn’t make himself muster the energy to lie to them. Not today. After everything that had happened. . . He trusted them. Of course he trusted them. Of course. But did he trust the rest of the hunting community if word got out?

“Bobby? You still there?-- man, this prepaid card sucks. Phone says I’ve got full bars. . .” Dean’s voice went from loud to soft as he pulled the phone away to check it, but Bobby finally hummed in confirmation after he’d tapped the mouth of his bottle against his forehead a few times. It took another huff and a long swig of whiskey before Bobby was really ready to answer. Or as ready as he could be, he supposed.

“You’ve probably never heard the name before because it’s a pseudonym.”

“How do you know it’s a pseudonym?”

“Because I know her real name, and it’s definitely not Clarke O’Clarice. She usually uses Jowan McGonagall, and from the way you’ve described her, it’s definitely her.” Oh, yeah. There was no going back now. A part of Bobby felt guilty about even mentioning her existence-- but it also felt nice to finally acknowledge her after so many years.

“Who is her, Bobby?”

“[Y/F/N] [Y/L/N]. And you’re right-- she’s not a fed. She’s. . . A hunter, of sorts. Vampire hunter, mostly, but she’s done it all. Probably racked up more kills than you boys put together; she’s a tough cookie. If she’s in town, you don’t have’ta worry about the case.”

“What do you mean of sorts? And what do you mean that we don’t have to worry about this case? Of course we have to worry about the case-- that’s our job,” Dean said, sounding thoroughly exasperated in light of this new information. Bobby wasn’t sure if Dean was more insulted by the fact that he’d said [Y/N] had more kills, or by the fact that he’d said they didn’t have to worry about the case. Either way, it wasn’t rubbing Dean’s fur the right way.

“I mean that she isn’t your conventional hunter--”

“Well, I mean, neither are we--”

“Yeah, but you aren't vamps, are you?” He sneered. The words slipped out of Bobby’s mouth before he could stop them, agitation bubbling behind his sternum. There was a long, stunned silence on the other end of the line. Bobby could hear Sam, faintly in the background, frantically asking what was wrong.

“What do you mean--” Dean choked out, but Bobby didn’t let him finish. He was too far in now, so he might as well spill all.

“She’s not-- she’s not full vamp--”

“Those exist?” Dean’s voice had pitched up to an octave that Bobby, under different circumstances, or with a little more whiskey, would’ve found funny.

“Yes, and if you’d shut your trap for more than two seconds, I could fill you in a little bit.” Bobby inhaled deeply, as much as his lungs would allow, while Dean grumbled an apology. He took another breath, and another for good measure, before he put the phone back to his ear and continued. “Yes, they exist. But she’s the only one I’ve ever, ever known of. And she’s never bumped into any like her, neither; she’s been around long enough that you’d think she might’ve, but nope. Just been her.”

“Well. . .” It sounded like Dean was finding it hard to swallow on the other end of the line, but he finally got his tongue around the words he was trying to say. “Vampires live for like, ever, right? So how old is this chick? If she’s not very old, then maybe there’s more around, she just hasn’t--”

“From what she’s told me in passing, she met George Washington.” Another long pause followed this. Then, disbelief.

“Like-- The George Washington? Like, American Revolution, one-dollar-bill, took teeth from his slaves George?”

“Yes,” Bobby sighed. “She hasn’t told me precisely when she was born, but if she’s at least that old, I think it’s safe to say that she’s had plenty of time to bump into another one of-- whatever we’re gonna call her kind.” Dean blew a breath out through his mouth against the phone and Bobby jerked his own phone away from his ear as a fizzle of static accompanied the rush of air. “Look, it’s getting late. That’s the skinny on [Y/N]. She’s nothing to worry about, n’less you get on her bad side. Just stay out of her way: she’s got a good track record of getting the job done. Especially vamp cases. Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything, Bobby,” Dean said.

“Don’t breathe a word of what I just told you-- to anyone. ‘Cept Sam, I guess. But if this kinda thing gets out. . . Well, you should know. You and Sam were hunted and killed for the same reason that she would be. I’ve kept her secret my entire life. Don’t need her dying on the account of me bein’ too drunk to keep my mouth shut.”

Dean sighed again, and there was a long pause that followed. It was quiet in the background. They must’ve parked somewhere; Bobby couldn’t hear the Impala in the background.

“You got it, Bobby. It doesn’t leave this car.” Dean murmured.

For some reason, Bobby believed him.

“Thanks Bobby.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

#Supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfic #spn fandom #dean winchester #bobby singer #vampire #half vampire #reader insert #sam winchester

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weretoad-writer · 6 years

Note

Onyx, black, shadow, Brown, teal, and safety for a Toast sadsack session ;P

Thank you!! These were so much fun! (albeit sad fun)

(Some of these are answered as Toast and some I answered for him.)

Onyx: What are your nightmares most often about?

Kirkwall. No, that’s not quite right. Sometimes the placechanges. Sometimes it’s Kinloch. Sometimes it’s Skyhold.Sometimes the armor is crusted with red crystal, sometimes the swordisn’t a sword, sometimes it’s an eye. Sometimes it’s a differentname that they want. But it’s still the same. It’s still… I don’tknow how to…. It smells the same. Is that stupid? Piss and vomitand blood. And –and then hot metal and – and – and it’s burningand– And fear. I didn’t know fear had a smell, but it does. Likesweat gone rancid. And I’m soaking in it. They take my hand and I– I can’t stop them, can’t stop it. But it’s a dream. It’s adream. It’s not – it’s not – But they take my hand and I – Ican’t –-

I give them what they want. I give them the name. And then I wakeup. Sometimes I think that if I tried harder, if I were strong enoughjust bloody *once*, if I didn’t give it to them, maybe the dreamswould stop. I don’t know. Maybe I just wouldn’t wake up. MaybeI’d really be back there. Maybe it wouldn’t be a dream.

Black - What is the darkest thing you’ve ever done?

I don’t know…. Sometimes I’d eat poison mushrooms to see if Icould counteract the effects with magic. Or at least…. No. That’snot why. It was just……easier, if I pretended it was a game or anexperiment, if I pretended that winning meant waking up.

Shadow - What is your biggest regret?

Toast is made of regrets. He’s like 85% regrets, 15% person atthis point. In terms of guilt, what happened in the Gallows andgiving up the names would be the obvious choice. But in a broadersense… I think his biggest regret would be what happened withJowan? He doesn’t understand why his friend never told him or why helied to him. And he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He assumes thathe must have done something or failed in someway to lose that trust,that if he’d been a better friend, Jowan would have confided in himand they could have fixed things together before it was too late.

I think he also, on some level, believes that if that first badthing had never happened, then none of the others would have happenedeither. He knows he’s not actually responsible for what happened withUldred, but it was so utterly beyond the pale that he still can’tunderstand why it happened, and that lack of understanding makes itfeel like part of some horrible, incomprehensible domino effect. Inhis mind, I think, even Kirkwall is included in this. In hisimperfect understanding, his life began to unravel from a veryspecific point and that point was Jowan. If he had just not fucked upthat one thing, none of the rest would have happened, everyone wouldhave been safe and alive and everything would have been alright.

Brown- Where do you call home?

I…. don’t. But if I did, I don’t. – I don’t think it would bea place. I think it might be a person?

Teal - What makes you feel most at peace?

Touch. When it’s someone he really trusts. Physical contact is themost grounding and reassuring thing in the world for him.

Safety - What is the most traumatic experience in your life?

I’ve already talked about the Gallows and Uldred’s uprising, solet’s go with being turned over to the templars as a child. I imagineToast as being the third of the Amell children to be taken away. Hedidn’t really understand that what he had done, at five years old allhe knew was that the nursery had caught fire when he was throwing atantrum due to the family dog being shut out of the room, but he musthave done something and it must have been something really, reallybad because his mother wouldn’t stop crying.

When his father took him to the chantry and left him in the careof the templars there, this confirmed his belief that he was beingpunished for what he had done. He cried and pleaded as only aterrified five year old can, but (as he remembers it) his father justtold him to be good and walked away.

Toast did very much the opposite, hoping that if he were badenough the templars wouldn’t want him either and would send him back.It wasn’t until he was on a ship heading to Ferelden that thefinality of the situation began to sink in.

As he grew older he tried to rationalize what happened, alwayskeeping the truth – or what as a child he had perceived as thetruth – at arms length. But the memory was still there, like ascar, the sense that he wasn’t wanted, that he was defective, and itdistorts his perception of himself even as an adult.

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queen-scribbles · 6 years

Text

Inquisitor!Jowan

World State:

--Warden Trinne Amell, romanced Alistair, left Anora queen, Alistair stayed a Warden, OGB, Trinne killed the Archdemon, still alive(Happy Ending sans Harvey AU, I guess xD)

--Evi Hawke, red personality, warrior, romanced Anders(rival path), very pro-templar, executed Anders, recruited Seb, sided w/templars endgame

-o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o-

For this AU, Trinne told Jowan to run from Redcliffe, rather than conscripting him to the Wardens(wouldn’t wish this life on her best friend or something). She lets him out of his cell and tells him to run after he goes in the Fade to fight the demon and free Connor bc it’s clear that’s not going to buy him much mercy and she couldn’t live with herself if she just lets him get killed/made Tranquil. So he does the aiding refugees things, changes his name to Levyn to avoid the templars looking for him. Also, new name for a new start. (basically, I like having him fight the demon to count as his Harrowing, and also needed him to run so voila)

About a year post-Blight, after the Archdemon, Mother, and Architect are all dead and the darkspawn threat starts to die down, he gets tired of running. But what else is there for someone like him? The average civilian doesn’t recognize the scars on his hands and arms, but a templar probably would. He goes anywhere near a Circle, he’s as good as executed.

So he makes do as a (sort-of)hedge mage, trading help for whatever people can afford to pay. Sometimes this means food or clothes or learning new skills instead of money. He’s fine with that. One family was so poor his “payment” was a flower crown made by their six year old daughter. He keeps a couple of the flowers long after they dry out, pressed between the pages of a book to help him remember on bad days that he can be both good and good for something in spite of his mistakes.

After the Chantry Explosion in Kirkwall, he gives up using magic entirely(had already been saving it for emergencies only), and settles in a small, out of the way village(Chilltread) near the foothills of the Frostback Mountains. It’s remote, has no templar presence, and the people are kind without being nosy. He tells them he got in trouble at home and had to leave(which is true enough), and they don’t pry.

Chilltread is quiet and hard to reach enough the Mage-Templar War doesn’t really touch them, and news takes so long to get there the first they hear of the Conclave is when the delegation from the Ostwick Circle passes through. They make it sound important enough to pique Levyn’s curiosity and he asks if he can go with them. He’s starting to go stir-crazy staying in one place and this seems a good excuse to leave for awhile but come back. They agree, long as he brings his own provisions/gear and pulls his weight. He’s willing to do that, and so leaves with them when they depart the next morning. When one of the escorts asks his name and he says Levyn, the man chuckles and turns to a nearby mage in the delegation. “What were you sayin’ about your name not bein’ common, Trevelyan?”

The mage in question, dark haired with pale green-blue eyes, scoffs and makes some comment about how one nobody from a backwater Fereldan village sharing his given name does not make it common. They press on, already running slightly behind desired schedule and with three more days’ travel ahead of them. That evening when they make camp, Levyn Trevelyan apologizes to Levyn the Nobody for his attitude. “Today was not a good day, for many reasons, and had me all out of sorts. My humblest apologies for disparaging you.”

Levyn brushes it off(“I am technically a nobody, so you’re not wrong”) and they chat for a while. Trevelyan waxes eloquent about both his family and the Ostwick Circle, while Levyn is a little more vague. Lots of ‘you wouldn’t have heard of that place’ and ‘I haven’t done anything spectacular, really’ dodging.

It gets colder the higher into the mountains they go, and the next(last) village they pass through on the way to Haven(even smaller than Chilltread), Levyn trades a good chunk of his provisions to a villager for warmer clothes. He can deal with being hungry, has before. But the cold is wicked this high up, and he can’t stand it. (acquired: starting armor :D)

They’re among the last to arrive at the Conclave, which suits Levyn fine; less time around a large number of templars. He is, of course, not important enough to actually be included in the talks, but there’s plenty of gossip to be heard from servants, mercs, and guards. It gives him a pretty clear picture of where things stand and how ugly the Mage-Templar War has gotten. Trevelyan is included in some of the meetings, but doesn’t want to discuss them when he’s free, preferring to talk about his family or the friends still at Ostwick’s Circle, all of whom he clearly misses.

Being so wary of people--especially Chantry-affiliated people--Levyn spends a fair bit of time wandering the temple halls, wondering what parts Trinne saw when she was here.

And then comes the explosion.

Running, things chasing him, the woman, climbing… something, a cliff, maybe? Or stairs? The bright flare of light and rubble under his feet and then a cell and angrily hissed words.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.”

-o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o-

Turns out, when he stumbles out of the Fade, he stayed (semi)conscious just long enough to say his name was Levyn before passing out entirely. Since the Ostwick delegation didn’t add him to their roster when he joined them, the only Levyn to find is Levyn Trevelyan. So they assume that’s him and run with it.

It hits him almost as soon as his head clears what happened, but Cassandra sounds a hairs-breadth from killing him on the spot, and he’s terrified she will if she knows he’s Levyn-the-nobody-apostate instead of Levyn-with-noble-family-ties. So he plays along, he figures just long enough to fix this and leave. Sidesteps Varric’s guess about where he’s from with “What is this, an interrogation?”

By the time they seal the Breach and he’s no longer in immediate danger of execution, he’s ‘Herald of Andraste’ and in too deep to stop lying about who he is. Everyone thinks he’s Lord Trevelyan of Ostwick, and the nobody from Chilltread village is just another tick mark on a casualty report. (not that anyone cares) So he decides to play the part. He’s good at pretending to be someone he’s not, after all. And he can’t think of a pleasant outcome if he tells the truth.

Has something of a panic attack when he sees Cullen in the War Room. Only person in the whole Inquisition who might recognize him(he thinks). But it’s been a decade since Kinloch Hold, and they’ve both been through enough hell Cullen doesn’t seem to recognize him. He’s still anxious about talking to the man the entire game bc what if he remembers?!

Leliana thinks he looks vaguely familiar, but can’t put her finger on why until mid-late game, and keeps her deduction to herself. Part of why she’s so protective Josie when she thinks there’s maybe something starting there

He’s also wary of talking to Cassandra in the walking-on-eggshells sense, given the first impression of brazen righteous fury he got from her. (They’ll eventually be friends, but it’s gonna take awhile)

Goes with the ‘Not sure I’m chosen’ route(but does believe in the Maker) bc he can’t keep that bit of his true self from peeking through. He’s been trying so hard to atone for his mistakes for years, but still can’t believe Andraste would choose someone like him as Her Herald. (still not doing great in the self-confidence department)

Really likes Mother Giselle. Is petrified Chancellor Roderick will find him out and blow it wide open to discredit the Inquisition.

Has another near-panic attack when Cole shows up, bc oh BOY is keeping him around flirting with disaster. But help is help and can he really turn him away?

Tries his best to come off as quiet and reserved rather than overwhelmed. Inner monologue more

Josephine is a breath of fresh air. Someone who’s not tied to the Chantry, so he doesn’t feel like he has to be as guarded around her. She’s kind. She’s strong. She’s gracious. He feels like he can relax around her more than anyone else in the Inquisition. (Not so much he tells her everything right away, but more than around Cass or Cullen for example. Or Leliana, who treats him like a riddle she’s trying to solve.)

Still deciding whether to do CotJ or IHW bc it’s either walking into the templar stronghold or walking into Redcliffe, and I”m not sure which would be worse for him. One has templars(+the envy demon glitch), but the other has a host of bad memories/guilt and higher odds of being recognized as the blood mage who poisoned Arl Eamon. (At least, in his mind. It’s been ten years, the only one who might recognize him is Connor.)

Gonna sacrifice Hawke in HLtA bc Alistair is still in a relationship with Trinne and there’s no way Jowan would do something so devastating to his best friend(sister, really) as sacrifice the man she loves.

Really embraces the concept of “Whatever we were before, we are now the Inquisition” bc leaving his past far, far behind him sounds fucking fantastic.

#queen in thedas #inquisitor!jowan #levyn trevelyan #dai #jowan #and now i go play with him :D

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shift-shaping · 6 years

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What was Eirwen’s friendship like with Jowan?

“Uh… complicated.

“Before I get into it, let me explain something about the Circle –or Kinloch, at least. I was brought in as a child when I couldn’t hide my magic anymore; they put me in chains and dragged me through the streets of the alienage like a criminal. They put me in the back of a carriage and tied my arms behind my back so tight my shoulders hurt. I was 11.

“But once I was actually inside the Circle, when Irving and Wynne stepped in to help me, it wasn’t… awful. I’d love to say I don’t know why they went through the effort, but I can’t because it was almost certainly due to my potential. A bit pretentious to say, I know, but it’s also true. Things were actually not that horrible until I was 16 or so, when I stopped being seen as a child under the care of the Circle and started being seen as an Initiate. I mean, the so-called caretakers shaved my head and beat me when I spoke ‘like a Denerim girl’ before, but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.

“As an Initiate, you suddenly become a real threat again. I went through really horrible things at the hands of the people who were supposed to take care of us, while knowing I could be brought to the Harrowing Chamber at any time. For most of us it took less than six months, but I, uh, accidentally murdered someone so it took me two years.

“Jowan and I were both delayed. Most of my other friends had been transferred or were already full Apprentices, so the two of us were kind of stuck together. I think there was always some frustration on his end, though, because he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. I was the problem, I had killed someone because I couldn’t control my magic –if anyone should be made Tranquil, it was me. But I avoided that by being close to Irving and Wynne, and by being very close to a certain Templar. Jowan didn’t have the connections I did, and even though we got along, I think he was more irritated by this than he let on.

“And I think my Harrowing was something of a last straw for him. I spent years hating him for what he did, but I have some perspective now. It’s still fucked up, and part of me still wishes I could go back and re-do it all. He was hurting, though, and terrified. Given the same circumstances, I don’t know what I would have done.

“Okay, well, I say that, but I think I do know, honestly. I would have taken care of shit on my own because I could, because I have the talent to. He didn’t, not without blood magic, and so he chose to drag me into his mess. I agree with his desire to escape, and obviously I was willing to help him, but had I known he was a blood mage I never would have. Not because I think blood magic is some great evil, but because colluding with him ruined my life.

“And maybe I would have died later in the Circle anyway. Maybe everything would have been just as terrible. Maybe, without me, Ferelden would have been destroyed by the Blight. But I don’t know about maybes. I just know that what I went through as a Warden changed me irrevocably, and not in entirely positive ways, and that things would be different had he not lied to me. I felt robbed of the future I was supposed to have.

“But, again… I know the fault isn’t really his. The system, ultimately, is the problem. He never should have been in that position. No one should be. But what I know and how I feel are… entirely different things.”

#darp #surana #jowan #jowan critical #although it's ic so it's a little different #thank you for the question!~!!!!#Anonymous #verse: the blue witch

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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10, 16, and 24 for the DA OC ask? :)

*waves excitedly* Hello, hello! :D Welcome to my curiosity shop, but instead of selling curiosities; I supply them! >:D

Thank you so much! Let's ramble! >:3

10. Do your protagonists share the same opinions on the Chantry?

For the most part, yes. Fane is simply the more volatile of the three. He just...does not do good with religion or faith or divinity in any capacity. His kin suffered under the hands of beings who believed themselves gods, and he doesn't want see the same thing happen again. He's also very, very sensitive about Tranquility, the whole Chantry's habit of turning their gazes away while still spouting that, 'We're here. We'll protect you. The Maker will see us through this.', and the self-righteousness, the corruption, the double standard. He also doesn't like the whole act of racial profiling, how the Chantry makes one faction greater or lesser than the other and practically signals them out every time something goes wrong on their end. Fane may refer to most by their race (elf, qunari, dwarf, human, creatures), but that's only because he's laying the base; he's seeing the natural aspect. He never means it as an insult or a slur. Sadly, his tone can come across that way, but it's something he does work on. People are people. No more, no less.

Fane values freedom of thought, of a world where people can think and depend on themselves rather than run to a priest or cleric for certainty. He wants people to believe in themselves. That's all. He knows what it means to be met with silence, to cry and cry and cry for mercy and receive nothing from those that are said to answer with swiftness and benevolence. He doesn't want that to continue. The world is weeping from that kind of attitude, and Fane will do anything to see those tears dry up.

And well, he's also very bitter on the military side of things, too. Templars that get within even a five mile radius of Mhairi or Solas get a claw to the face, especially if they manage to silence or smite them. Fane sees nothing but ruin with the Chantry in place. Rylen and Elise see its importance, its relevance in some capacity, but even they can agree it needs to either change or just go.

Rylen would probably be more close to Fane's reaction though. The Chantry fucked Rylen royally before and after his mother died, and now they continue to play innocent, like everything was his fault? Yeah, no.

Elise is devout. She believes in the Maker, looks up to Andraste and follows her guiding principle to some length, but Anders' predicament before Awakening and after, and the Circle Tower during the Blight had her shaken, had her eyes opening. In those moments, she didn't see magic as the villain, the cause. All she saw was the Chantry, hands bloody, but a smile on their faces and a brand waiting along the sidelines.

'It's to protect you, and those from you. Magic must serve man, and never rule over him.' Elise used to find comfort in those words, believing it was a well thought out plan to ensure everyone was on the same page. Now, she wonders who truly rules over who. It most certainly isn't magic or mages. And motherly smiles of clerics and vacant eyes of those she once knew for their passion, their fears, their hopes and dreams, don't feel like safety anymore.

16. Would your protagonists have the same Hogwarts house?

I'm not too versed in Harry Potter-esque stuff, but I know the houses! And I think I can safely say that, no, they wouldn't have the same house. XD

Fane would probably be Slytherin or Ravenclaw. He's ALWAYS two! I can never just go with one for him! XD

Elise would be Ravenclaw. Without a doubt. She's curiosity and learning incarnate. More than Fane, honestly. PFFT!

Rylen probably Gyrffindor, if I had to choose one for him!

Me: You're a wizard, Fane! >:3

Fane: ...I'm a dragon.

24. How do each of your protagonists handle loss?

Elise:

This girl becomes a mess. Not joking. She's lost so much in such a short amount of time. Her family, who she can't even remember, Jowan, Alistair, Anders. The list goes on and on. Loss to Elise doesn't just mean in death. It could mean someone parting ways with her, whether through an argument or just cruel, cruel fate and the flow of the world. She has a hard time letting go, and even ten years later she still thinks about Jowan and how she wished she could have helped him more, done right by him. And it takes a while, but Nathaniel helps her learn how to let go, to restart and look forward, not back.

Rylen:

...Heh. Rylen also has lost a lot in a short period of time. His losses were like a domino effect, too. Malcolm, then Carver, then Bethany, then Leandra. Boom, boom, boom, boom. Each lost, each one given a silent burial. Rylen never had time to grieve properly, so he bottles all of it, holds it tight and close. He's actually amazed he's been able to keep the cork on his heart for so long, but he knows eventually it'll burst; all the pain and sorrow finally getting a chance to scream as he wants to. Until then, he smiles, he jokes, and he crumbles in silence. Fenris and Sebastian, especially Sebastian, help coax Rylen into caving eventually, but the man's stubborn and prone to holding up a front.

Fane:

Like Rylen, Fane bottles his emotions. He encourages others to let their emotions out because he understands from a practical standpoint that it's detrimental, but it's harder to make himself let go. When his mother died, Fane went mute for several months; no one could get him to speak. He had receded into himself, only acknowledging others with a sidelong glance and a contempt twitch of his mouth. He wouldn't pick up a book of poetry, he wouldn't look at Mhairi half the time because of her eyes and hair, and he wouldn't go near the halla pen or the tree she would guide him to when a bout of rage took him at a young age.

Fane had reconnected to his nature without knowing after her death. He chose silence and vacant observation to cope. But, all it did was sow the seed of resentment and disassociation. Eventually, Fane began to speak again and look at his sister and run his fingers along a stanza of measured words and reach a hand out to a halla, even knowing it would spook, but his mother's absence lingers like the ghostly eyes of his kin and all he wishes is for her to appear one day, maybe just in the Fade, and tell him, 'It'll be all right, da'len. I love you. I will always love you, no matter what. You are my da'isenatha (little dragon)'. She didn't know, of course, but when Fane hears that term in her voice, he breaks and he weeps until he's numb.

...I made myself cry agiaaaaain! *wails*

#asks #ask #dragon age #oc: fane lavellan #oc: elise amell #oc: rylen hawke #that last question #WOOOO #it had me tearing up! ;3;#fane and his mother make me tear up all the time #i need to write something with them #all my children bottle and then overload :3 #...i think that says something about me personally #HMMMM #thank you again! <3

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gerechtsein-blog · 7 years

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HEADCANON; CHARACTERIZATION

Long and rambling characterization headcanons under the cut! This is half for my benefit to get back in the mindset of writing him, but also so you can get a bit of a glimpse of how I see/write him. Note that (as the tags say) I’m gonna be discussing some heavy shit re: his time in the Circle. But then again, this is Dragon Age, we’re all used to Heavy Shit. Warnings are still there though!

The main reason Anders probably ended up such a rebellious escape artist in the Circle is that he knew freedom beforehand. He hadn’t been taken to the Tower until he was 12 -- he’d known his parents, known fresh air and sunshine, known the simple joy of running around in the grass all day and knowing you were free. He knew all of it, and then he was dragged off, away from home and family and freedom, and locked up. Treated like a prisoner, less than human, just because of a talent he was born with, something completely out of his control.

The first few times he tried to escape, he genuinely just wanted to go home -- no ulterior motives, nothing but a scared kid wanting to see his mom again. After the third time...they locked him in the cellars for a few weeks as punishment, and that’s when it all changed. Being alone for weeks, in the dark and cold and damp, tormented by the Templars who could do anything they wanted down there without being seen...that’s when it started making him angry. After that, he didn’t just want to go home, he wanted to get out. Going home was an option, but he didn’t care about thinking that far anymore. All he wanted was to get out of there.

His friends -- Amell, Jowan, Karl (oh, Karl) were the only ones that even kept him from doing something even more stupid and reckless than he had already. They were the ones that talked him out of bed on his bad days, took the dagger from his hand and bandaged his wrists, kept him smiling and reminding him that he could smile. They kept him from doing anything too reckless to escape, though they couldn’t quite keep him from trying altogether -- couldn’t stop him from swimming the lake, which he didn’t regret even if he had a cold for the next two weeks.

And then they sent Karl away. Karl, his first kiss, his first love, his first time (well, his first consensual time) -- gone. He stayed in bed for a week, but then he tried to escape again. He managed to get further than he ever had, but in return he spent months alone in the dark and damp save for the Templars who came to ‘teach him lessons’ that left him bruised and bloody and sore.

His next escape attempt involved him accidentally-on-purpose injuring three Templars (the worst of his tormentors, in fact) and the punishment was solitary for an entire year. He had been angry and afraid before, but that year almost broke him. He tried to kill himself when he got out of that dark, cold hell -- but his friends saved him, and convinced him to try one more time. Just one more time. That became almost a mantra to keep Anders sane in the year it took to prepare. The only thing he had to keep going through it all.

And then he did escape, finally, and he made it to the Wardens.

For the first few weeks, he thought he was dreaming or hallucinating -- this couldn’t be real. After nearly two decades, had he finally actually won? Apparently he had. It scared him a little at first, and he wasn’t entirely happy with the cost of his freedom -- I mean, the nightmares and probable early, horrific death weren’t his ideal -- but he longer he spent in Vigil’s Keep, the more he found he didn’t mind.

He was free. He had everything he wanted. A warm bed, good food, fresh air and sunshine, the ability to walk to Amaranthine and have a good lay or buy an apple or just interact with people. And (something he’d never realized he wanted) he belonged somewhere. Not just because he was a mage, something he’d never chosen to be, but because he was Anders.

Though...beneath that hesitant contentment and tentative joy, that anger was still there. At the world for treating him like it had, for treating mages like it did. They didn’t deserve the Circles, the abuse, the torment, the stigma and the fear. They were people. At the time -- rationally enough -- he blamed the Templars for everything. The Circles weren’t the problem; he’d seen what scared people did to mages, and he’d seen what untaught mages did to people -- the Circles protected mages from the ignorant masses and taught them how to use their talents, that’s what they were supposed to do. It was the Templars that made the Circles into hellish prisons. So he hated the Templars with a burning passion he hid beneath smiles and jokes and humor.

And, he thought, what was the point? He was free. If he tried to do anything about it, he wouldn’t be anymore. He was just one man, what the hell could he do? All he wanted was to hold on to his own freedom with all his might, cling to it and the pleasures of life as his own man. Ignore his anger and pain and just appreciate what he’d finally managed to find. There were plenty of other mages being vocal. He didn’t need to do anything.

And then came Justice.

He’d really disliked the spirit at first, constantly urging him to do something, fight the injustice he’d experienced, et cetera. The thing wouldn’t take the hint -- he just wanted to be left alone, he didn’t want to be a freedom fighter! Let someone else do it. Not him.

But after the Seige, after he went to the Circle to visit and was followed back by a Templar...it wasn’t that Justice started making more sense. It was just...maybe part of it was the spirit influencing him deliberately, maybe part of it was his own fear and desperation and yes, anger, making him contemplate something he’d never wanted before, but -- two became one, he became an abomination, and he fled the Wardens.

The first and clearest memory he had after the initial shock wore off was disgust. Disgust at himself for the way he’d acted, for just skipping off to be selfish and put his hands over his ears and eyes while other mages suffered. He couldn’t be sure if that was him feeling it or Justice, but it didn’t matter.

After that, it became slowly harder to tell what was ‘Anders’ and what was ‘Justice’ -- and the realization that the anger and pain he carried with him was affecting the spirit, his friend, was...difficult. But he ran from that, like he was so good at doing. He could control it! He had it handled! Justice was his friend! Putting his head in the sand as always, ignoring the inconvenient truths.

He ignored the signs, too -- ignored when Justice told him to stop doing this, stop doing that, you don’t need this, that’s a distraction, ignored it when he slowly stopped eating, sleeping, visiting his friends at the Hanged Man...ignored when he stopped really fighting his anger, because by that time couldn’t tell who was thinking what anymore, truly believed that giving anything less than everything he was was selfish, and being repulsed at the idea of returning to that selfishness.

So he gave in to his anger, gave into the voice in his head, let it rule him when he didn’t even know who Anders was anymore. Let his anger blind him to reason, blind him to his former rationality, blind him to his friends’ concern and hurt and disappointment, and blind him to what he was doing. He couldn’t see anything but the cause -- refused to see his faults and his wrongdoing, and refused to see anything was wrong, because he was good at running.

Until he could finally see clearly -- he had a moment of perfect clarity, and that was when he was standing in the ashes of the Chantry and he realized what he’d done, what he’d caused, and what this meant for mages across Thedas.

Anger and fervor turned to horror and shame -- disgust at his past selfishness became disgust at his present extremism. What had he done? He’d run away from the idea that there was anything wrong, and now it had all been ruined.

He wanted Hawke to kill him -- though part of him hoped Fenris would do it, because that would be fitting -- he wanted it. He nearly begged for it. But they didn’t. They made him live. They wouldn’t let him run away from what he’d done; he had to live and face it.

So he lives, and he hates himself. For being a coward who runs and hides from anything wrong until it all blows up in his face, for being so arrogant that he thought he could be better and stronger than all the other abominations before him, for betraying his best friends in the world and hurting them like he had, for ruining everything he was fighting for -- for letting his anger and pain control him, and for letting Justice influence him to the point where he’d lost Anders along the way.

He lives and he doesn’t know what to do anymore. Run and hide again? Cower away from his mistakes? The idea is painful and bitter, but what else is there to do? Throwing himself at the mercy of the Church won’t fix anything -- he broke the dam, and his death won’t patch the flood. So he’s lost. Lost and guilty and not knowing what to do, needing to pick up the pieces of himself that got swallowed by the Cause.

#;manifesto magus (headcanon)#;tw: suicide//#;tw: abuse//

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brattern · 7 years

Text

A Moment of Weakness

Summary: Dragon Age: Origins. Alistair/Amell. Amell is haunted by thoughts of her old friend Jowan in the aftermath of his execution by her hand. His memory sparks a determination within her.

Length: 1,597 words.

She buries her face into her lovers bare back, trying to force her thoughts away with the warmth he emanated. Alistair giggles, squirming in her grasp. "H-Hey! Heather, that tickles!"

"No talking," she grumbles into his back. "You're interrupting my contemplation, you jerk."

"Oh? And is my back a necessary component in your—Hey!" He squeaks as she pinches his buttock, twisting his head around to glare at her over his shoulder. She smiles mischievously and presses a finger against his lips.

"No talking." He kisses her finger in defiance and she recoils as if she's been bit. With a huff she presses her feet against the small of his back and shoves him out of their bedroll, cackling as she does so.

"Oh, so we're playing like that, huh?!" Alistair jumps swiftly to his feet and whips around, prepared to deliver a swift tickling, when he notices that Heather is crying. He freezes in place, unsure how to proceed; something had to be really wrong if she was crying. She had never cried before, at least not in front of him. Perhaps it was an allergic reaction? "Heather? Is something wrong?"

----

“Heather? Is something wrong?” Reluctantly she tears her attention away from the tome she had been engaged in at the call of her fellow apprentice.

“Are you sure you’re not the person with an issue, Jowan? For I am quite obviously studying, unless that has newly been made a crime within the circle.” Heather closed the text with a heavy thunk and turned to face her resident pest. “What is so important, hm?”

“Maker’s breath, Heather, is it winter already?”

“Have being inside the Tower’s walls for so long really made you that daft? It’s merely fall.”

“Brr!” Jowan pretends to shiver, undeterred by her frosty reception. “Come on, I know you better than that. You’re totally sulking- you’ve read that book eight times before”. She scowled, unable to deny his claim and hating his knowing smirk.

“And? What’s your point, Jowan? What do you want?”

“You make it sound like I’m blackmailing you”, he joked. Heather didn’t laugh. “You can lean on me every now and again, you know. That’s what friends are for.” She studied him suspiciously, making the apprentice wait before giving him a solitary nod.

“If that’s all, I have other matters to attend to.” Heather rose from her seat and turned to leave when she felt him grasp her arm. She glances over her shoulder at Jowan and her contemptuous expression made him hesitate. “...If there’s nothing else-”

“Promise me. Promise me that you will.” He held out the pinky of his other hand towards her, his expression serious. “People aren’t meant to take on everything alone, Heather. When you really need to, promise me that you won’t shoulder your burden alone.”

She sighed as if he was causing her a large inconvenience, but locked her finger with his all the same. “If that is what you wish… my friend”.

---

"Nothing's wrong. Why are you..." Heather’s hands touch the wetness on her face and she flinches. "Oh", she murmurs. "I see." Her voice cracks into panicked laughter and she hastily tries to cover her eyes, not wanting him to see. It was a foolish gesture and she knew it. He had already seen.

"Heather..." His words are soft in her ear as he sits down beside her, protectively wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close. "Do you want to talk about it?" She shakes her head, hesitates, and then nods.

"...Relying on other people has always felt like a weakness." She laughs bitterly and hides her face against his shoulder. "There's no room for weakness when you're a mage. You were there, at the tower. It doesn't matter if they're good people, or kind people—if they're not strong enough, it can be all gone in a moment." Alistair rubs her back, unsure of what else he can do for her. There’s nothing he can say, not having grown up in the Circle. Heather squeezes her eyes shut, grateful for his presence.

----

"They tell me you're to be my executioner." She’s alone and despite the cell bars between them, he finds their situation almost nostalgic. Jowan chuckled at her solemn nod. Heather's face is icy in her resolve and to anyone else she may have even seemed cruel. But he knew her, perhaps better than anyone else did. "The two of us again, then. It seems fitting-"

He’s cut off abruptly as his face slams into the bars of his cell. While he’d reminisced, she’d snaked her arm in-between the bars and grabbed him by the collar of his robes. Time passes, but nothing breaches the silence. He looks up slowly and meets her eyes. Her face contorted into a mixture of rage and agony, hot tears dripping silently from her cheeks. "Heather..."

"Sh—Shut up. Shut up, Jowan." Her voice is strained but her grasp on his collar is still hard as iron. They’d grown up together but Jowan had never actually seen Irving's star pupil cry. He obliges and waits patiently while she wipes her eyes feverishly, seemingly as perplexed by her tears as he is. "You... why?" He doesn't have to ask for clarification-what else would she be talking about?

"At first", he chuckles, "ironically enough, because of you." He sees the shock in her expression and smiles wistfully. "I've always been... jealous of your ability. I knew I'd never be as great a mage as you are. I thought blood magic might give me more... power. More control. Isn't that stupid?"

"It is."

Jowan laughs at her straightforward admission. That condescending tone, that absolute confidence, that was the Heather he had known. To his surprise, she releases him from her grasp and chuckles. "You have always been a fool, Jowan." There is a bite in her tone but her face has softened, almost remorseful.

"I—I knew I was wrong. It felt wrong the minute I tried it, the—the blood magic. I swore it would never happen again. I had no reason to, especially... after I met Lily." Heather winces at the mention of her old friends lover, knowing full well that she would be no better off after being caught assisting him. "She made me feel... whole. Lily loved me for I am, flaws and all. I was able to accept myself and I was happier than I could have dreamed I would ever be. And then..."

Guilt rose like bile in her stomach. How had she betrayed these people? Jowan had been... Jowan was her closest friend. "...You asked for my hand in your freedom after she found out about the Rite." He nods and she grimaces, biting into her lip hard. Her betrayal was no secret; he knew full well what she had done, and yet there was no anger in him. It seemed he had come to terms with his fate, more than Heather herself had been able to achieve. "Why didn't you ask me?"

"Pardon?"

"You could have asked me. About magic. I would have been willing to help you...", she trailed off, her voice thick with regret. "I could have helped you."

"Well, you’re kind of scary, you know? You had a real mean streak going on back at the tower, Heather. If I had asked, I reckon I would've gotten an earful from you," Jowan said with a laugh. Her face falls and he regrets his choice of words, but he knows well enough at this point that what's done is done. "Come on, Heather... It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. Don't blame yourself for my mistakes."

"But--"

"I'm grateful." His admission silences her and he continued with a sigh, "you stuck with me through everything, no matter how foolish. I'm... I'm sorry that I've let you down." Silence stretched between the two old friends as his words sunk in but eventually Heather nodded. "Can I make a final request?" Another nod. "I know it's unlikely that you'll ever see her again... but if your paths ever cross, please tell Lily that I'm sorry. Tell her that I loved her 'til the end."

"I... yes, of course. Of course I will, Jowan." Heather's insides twist at his relieved smile, but she knows what she must do. It’s better this way, she reflects, that this responsibility falls on her. If she started this, it’s only fitting that she ended it. She feels the warmth of tears wetting her cheeks again but makes no effort to wipe them away. "I’m sorry that it worked out like this."

"I am too, my friend."

-----

Inhale. Exhale.. Heather’s breathing steadies and she can feel the tears drying on her skin. “A moment of weakness is all it takes”, she says through grit teeth.

"If you're not strong enough, you die or face a fate worse than death that they call ‘merciful’. We're not even human to—to some of them. Not even people. Is it any surprise that the mages turn to blood magic out of fear? That the gentle and the weak taint themselves in the name of survival?" She raises her head from his shoulder and locks eyes with him. "I have to—I swear I'll free them, one day. They shouldn’t have to... no one should have to live like that."

"Heather, you can't shoulder the burden of all mages alone, that's-"

"I have you, don't I?" She cuts Alistair off with a weak grin but her eyes unfocused and her thoughts elsewhere. "The two of us... it seems fitting."

#writes #heather amell #idk i played jowans execution for the first time and i just wanted 2 flesh heather out... a little bit. idk. it insipreid me

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