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poetickitten · 5 years

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thanks to @bearlytolerablethethird who prompted me to write this during our chat last night over on the discord channel she created. Check it out! This was fun to do! Fennecs, and elf ears, and Solas fluff. Solas is now officially “The Fennec Whisperer”! (tm)

Pre-Relationship, romantic tension. Under the cut because long-ish.

Pairing: Solavellan

Rating: Teen for the mention of battle-related violence

Daisy

An unpleasant squelching sound met her ears, as the spell hit the bandit square in the face, singeing his skin to the bone. He crumpled to the ground with a gurgling noise as he choked on his own blood when Lokil heard running footsteps pattering on the grassy ground behind her. Still transfixed by the unpleasant sight, she turned too late and couldn't entirely evade the short blade the man swung straight at her chest. As it was, he only grazed her arm, leaving a long but shallow cut. Before he could get her back into his sight, having rushed straight past her, she hit him in the back of her head with the blade of her staff. The rich golden metal glinted in the bright sunlight, blinding her. When her eyes had recovered, she could see a deep gash in the back of his skull, and he too toppled over, falling on top of his companion.

Her ears, folded close to the side of her head in concentration, were ringing with the echo of metal clanging against metal. When she recovered, she looked around to make sure there were none of the bandits left.

"Inquisitor!". She turned to see her companions hurrying to where she was still standing, trying to catch her breath. Solas was striding towards her, wearing a strained and anxious expression, his brows knitted together, with Varric in his wake, struggling to keep up on his shorter legs, his expression one of smug admiration. Cassandra brought up the rear, looking stern as ever.

"Nice job on two-face there", Varric remarked in an appreciative and light-hearted tone, nodding at the dead thug and winking at her.

Solas was less pleased. "What were you thinking? Running straight at them?" He seemed overly upset, considering this was their daily bread now, and apparently struggling to keep himself from outright shouting at her.

"It's fine. It's just a scratch.", she replied in a dismissive tone. "How about you? Are any of you hurt?", she asked, looking to Varric and Cassandra.

They shook their heads. But Solas hadn't finished venting his disapproval. She looked at him, waiting for an answer to her question, and he went on, bitterness making his voice sharp.

"No, I am not hurt. I was fighting from a safe distance. You are a mage, not a common thug. You are not equipped to fight any enemies by rushing head-on into the fray."

"Excuse me?" Cassandra's voice cut over his. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

But no one paid her any attention. Lokil could feel anger bristling inside her at his words.

"I wasn't asking for a lecture. I can take care of myself!"

He snorted derisively, his lips pulling up in a sardonic grimace. "Don't be petulant!", he snarled. "He would have killed you, had you hesitated but a moment longer."

"Look, Solas, I appreciate your concern, but it's unnecessary. I'm perfectly fine and I-"

He showed every sign of interrupting her, but she held up a hand, as he drew breath to spit a reply at her.

From somewhere close by, she could hear a faint whimpering. Lokil could feel her ears twitching, trying to make out which direction it was coming from and wondering if one of the bandits was still alive. But she quickly realized that this was not the sound of a human voice.

She pushed between Varric and Solas, nudging Solas aside with a hand on his chest, searching for the source of this strange noise.

"What is it, Flower? Something wrong?" There was suspicion in Varric's voice. "Can't you hear?" She asked, not looking at them, but almost able to feel Solas' brow furrowing. "There's something there, behind that tree, I think?" She made towards it, instinct tingling inside her, but still unsure of what she was hearing.

As they got closer, she could make out a small shape huddled in a patch of daisies at the roots of a tall pine tree. It was quivering and obviously the source of the whimpering noises. She slowed down, and treading carefully, so as not to spook the small animal, approached, her arm stretched out behind her to tell the others to stay back.

It was a fennec.

It was curled up, its bushy tail hiding its face, with only its long nose peeking out from under it. It was trembling violently, and just as Lokil was beginning to wonder why it hadn't jumped at the sight of her and run off, she could see dark liquid clinging to the fur on its flank and dripping down over its back and staining the innocent-looking flowers that were sprouting from the wet ground, one of the early messengers of Spring.

"Oh no!", she gasped, her voice hushed and strained, her insides squirming with guilt. She knelt down at its side, unsure of whether to touch it, not meaning to frighten it. "It's hurt! And-", she bit her lip, "I think that was me. I was trying to hit the one who came rushing out of the bushes on this side and the spell must have- Oh no!"

Varric let out a sympathetic noise behind her, and Cassandra huffed.

"Here, let me.", Solas said quietly, just a hint of annoyance still discernible in his voice. He knelt down beside her, his bare toes sinking slightly into the soft mossy ground as he did so. He gently patted the animal's head once, muttering a few low words in the elvhen language. "It is alright. Be calm and let me look at you. You have nothing to fear from me, little one."

He leaned over the fennec and examined its wound for a moment. Then he carefully brushed its tail aside and lifted its head with one hand under its long and thin snout to look into its eyes. But it pressed them close, clearly terrified and still trembling all over.

"Do not be alarmed. I mean to help. It is alright now." He spoke slowly, his voice so uncharacteristically tender and warm, Lokil could feel a sinking feeling in her gut.

Having spent most of her life living in the deep, lush forests of the Free Marches, she had grown up with a deep respect of and love for all things living and breathing. Nature was more to her than the world she moved through. She cared. Seeing it bleed always made her heart bleed with it. And to be the reason for this small, defenceless creature's pain-

At Solas' words, however, its quick, shallow breaths slowed somewhat and, opening them, it let its large dark eyes flicker nervously back and forth between the group standing around it, its body frozen in fear at this unknown and uncomfortable proximity to humans.

"Can you help?", she asked Solas, her struggle to fight back tears clear in her constricted voice.

He hesitated. "It is badly wounded. It has lost quite a bit of blood." Her heart sank. Solas turned his head towards her, and the stern, concentrated look on his face shifted to one of curiosity and puzzlement at the sight of her obvious pain for the little creature. "I can try. But not here, magic alone will not be enough. This animal needs care".

*** The sun was setting, painting pink and golden streaks in the sky. The scent of spring blossoms and warm grass sweetened the cooling air, making the crickets sing their peaceful song in joy at nature's return to life after a bitter cold season.

But even the rewards of her favourite time of day could not stop Lokil from pacing up and down around the camp, getting into everyone's way and fretting over the little creature's fate.

"Ugh." Cassandra made a disgusted noise as she bumped into Lokil, where she was still walking in circles, worrying and wringing her hands, unable to get any rest. "Try to sit down somewhere, Inquisitor. Or go check on the animal, if it troubles you so. It does not help anyone if you stumble around the camp in blind worry, getting into everyone’s way. If you cannot help-" She caught herself. There was work to do. But the camp was already buzzing with activity, working her up even more, and they didn't really need another pair of hands tonight, especially not a fumbling and nervous one. "I am sorry.", Cassandra sighed. "It speaks well of you to concern yourself with something as small as this fennec, even in the midst of all these troubles."

Lokil smiled in happy surprise at those kind words. She had sensed a tender heart in Cassandra, more tender than the Seeker wished for people to know.

"Thanks, Cass.", she smiled back.

"Ugh. Don't call me that.", she chuffed and walked off. Lokil looked after her, still smiling, a moment's relief from her worries easing her mind a little.

"Inquisitor." Her heart jumped uncomfortably at the sound of Solas' voice and she turned around to see him striding towards her.

"What is it? Is it-", she gulped, "Is it... dead?"

Solas had come to a halt in front of her. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes intent on her face, wondering. "No." He paused. "Come and see." But he didn't move right away. Instead, he looked at her with an intensity that made a tingling warmth creep up her cheeks. She didn't see it at first and was already wondering why he didn't turn to take her to the tent where he had brought the fennec. But then he looked down and, following his eyes, she saw that he had extended his arm slightly in her direction, his palm turned up. She looked up into his face, unsure and taken aback at this familiar gesture. Lokil put her hand lightly in his, still hesitating; but Solas wrapped his long fingers around it and turned, pulling her on.

When she entered the tent and looked around for the fennec. Varric was sitting in a chair by a table, puffing on a long wooden pipe, body leaned back and clearly at his ease. Then she spotted the fennec sitting in his lap, its back to her, and slapping at something she couldn't see. Varric looked up at the sound of rustling fabric, as Solas pushed aside the tent’s entrance flap.

"Flower!", he exclaimed, his usual cheeriness back in his voice. "You came just at the right moment. Look." He pointed at the furry creature in his lap. "He's eating! That must a good sign, right?"

Solas had pulled her into the tent and stood still in front of Varric, still holding on to her hand. "How did you manage it? When I left to look for her-" Lokil wasn't sure, but she thought his hold of her hand tightened slightly as he said it, "When I left to look for her, it was still refusing anything I offered. And I think it is a she.", he added.

"I can be very persuasive.", Varric grinned, his eyes flitting down to their intertwined hands for just a fraction of a second. "Right, little fellow. Time for Uncle Varric to find some supper." He stuck his pipe between his teeth and carefully picked the fennec up with one hand and a small wooden bowl with his other, placing the animal on some furs on the table and the bowl within its reach. He turned and squeezed between them, forcing them to let go of each other's hand, with a smirk for Solas and a wink for Lokil. When he reached the tent's entrance, he turned, looked past Lokil at the fennec behind her and added with a smile: "You should probably think of a name for her. I think she likes you." It was only when he said it, that Lokil felt something rough and wet on the back of her hand. She hadn't noticed, her skin still tingling from Solas' touch. The fennec was licking her hand, and she smiled and turned to examine it.

They had wrapped a bandage around its body, a small red stain on the side where she had hit it with her spell. Her throat constricted slightly at the sight. "Is it going to live then?", she started, "Her, I mean. Is she going to be alright?"

"I think so." His voice sounded low and heavy. Lokil turned from the animal to look at him, still bent over the table. She lingered for a moment, trying to figure out why there was a sad edge to his voice. He looked at her with such serious intent and something else she couldn't put her finger on; it seemed so inappropriate for the moment and her shoulders tensed, as she tried to slow the sudden and unexpected fluttering feeling in her chest.

"How did you manage it then?", she asked.

He didn't answer right away. His expression lifted slightly as he spoke. "I know some healing magic that stopped the wound from bleeding. I tried to calm the animal, once we had managed to feed her some herbs from my pack that lessened the pain. She needed rest and a warm place and a few hours to recover a little. And she did.", he added with a warm smile towards the fennec, now licking and nibbling its front paw. "She is strong."

Lokil looked back at the animal, smiling too. "I think I should give her a name." She turned to look at him again. "Any suggestions?"

Solas thought for a moment. Then, looking around the tent, his eyes found Varric's crossbow leaning against his now empty chair and he smiled quietly again. "Varric calls you Flower, does he not? Why not call her Daisy? I seem to remember she was lying in a patch of flowers when we found her. It seems to fit. Daisy and Flower."

Lokil felt too stunned at his tenderness at this moment to react right away.

"Right. Daisy. I like it.", she answered, still not smiling. She hesitated. Then the question she had meant to ask for a while now burst from her lips. "What is going on Solas?" He raised his eyebrows at the strange question. "Why were you so angry with me before? I wasn't really hurt, I think that was pretty clear." She felt herself blushing again. "What is the matter with you? Something has been... off about you lately." She didn't really know him well enough yet to make that judgement, but this had been bugging her for a while now.

Something in his face tensed at her words.

"Is something wrong? Did I offend you or...?"

He still didn't answer. Frustration at his guarded and sometimes aloof manner made the corners of her mouth turn down.

"No.", he said, hushed, but somewhat urgently. "No. Not at all."

She waited.

"It is nothing." Was he... nervous? What was wrong with that man? He cleared his throat.

Fine. If he didn't want to talk, she would have to accept that. He clearly wished to be left alone, and she wasn't one to force her company where it was unwelcome. So she hummed - or huffed - in reluctant acceptance of his silence and made for the exit, but not before scratching the fennec behind the ears once. "Good night, little one. Get some rest.” She turned to look at him again. “And thank you, Solas. For saving her."

She turned to leave. But she hadn't made it two steps, when he reached for her hand - just her fingertips - and made her swivel around again.

He had taken a step after her, almost as soon as she moved and was standing much too close now. He didn't speak. He just stood there, stroking his thumb over the tips of her fingers resting in his palm, looking at her. The tension was almost gone from him, but Lokil could still see the sad longing around the edges of his eyes. She could feel the warmth of him against her skin. It made her want to squirm in embarrassment, sure that he must feel the thudding of her heart up close. She didn’t know what it meant, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for him to know. But she couldn't move. He smelled like the trees surrounding their camp. She felt dizzy.

"I was... concerned.", he said quietly. "You gave me quite a fright. I saw that man running up behind you and I thought-"

A disbelieving huff escaped her lips. "You worried?", she snorted, but she immediately regretted it. He looked even sadder then. "Ugh. I didn't mean it like that", she said, rolling her eyes at herself. "I'm sorr-"

But she never got the apology out. With an audible outlet of breath, he crossed the little space between them and brought his lips to hers, one hand at the back of her head, fingers digging into her hair, the other squeezing her hand. She gasped and sighed into the kiss in surprise. His lips were soft and warm and his touch made the little hairs on her arms stand up. Solas bent her back a little in his fervour, but he held her close to him. If he hadn't, she felt sure her knees would have given way. And so she let herself melt against his broad chest, stroking once over his ear with the hand that wasn't holding his.

By the time he broke the kiss softly to look at her, she felt so comfortable she was unwilling to let him draw back just yet, and she unconsciously followed him to catch his lips again. He chuckled in a low voice and she smiled. His embrace was the safe space she now realized had been missing these past few weeks, in the midst of all her troubles.

"Daisy.", she grinned up at him, feeling lighter than she had for too long. "I really like it." She looked over his shoulder, standing tiptoe, to see Daisy curled up in a ball, eyes closed and sleeping peacefully.

When she woke up the next day, she felt able once more to fully appreciate the chirping of the birds, the whisper of the cool morning breeze and the soft tickling of the furs covering her.

She turned over once more and snuggled into the side of Solas' body, his warmth flooding her own body and her heart.

#thanks to bearlytolerablethethird #this was fun!#some Solas fluff #fluffly fluff #literally #fennecs #Solas and Lokil #Solas the fennec whisperer #also included some mentions of elf ears for your reading pleasure #da fanfiction #a kitty tries to write

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fromriches-tosin · 6 years

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Ragnarok Loki:

Overpowered Odin (a being even Thanos didn’t want to meddle with) and put a powerful spell on him, taking away his memories and stranding him on Earth for years.

Proved that he can maintain the same perfect illusion for a very long time.

Learned that throwing daggers at powerful beings doesn’t really get shit done.

For the first time showed his ability to read other people’s minds/bring up people’s memories to fuck them up during fight.

Realized that perhaps after spending a few years in Odin’s skin his physical combat skills are not as good as they were before and that a much older and experienced warrior like Valkyrie can in fact defeat him.

Drawing on his previous experience, he tried to alter his fighting technique, even using his helmet as a weapon.

Proved that he knows some creepy spells, including how to invite a fire demon to your housewarming party.

Infinity War Loki:

DAGGERS, IT’S ALL ABOUT THE DAGGERS

#LOKILIVES

#infinity war #infinity war spoilers #the avengers #avengers #loki #thor #thor ragnarok #iw spoilers

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naniwear · 6 years

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Our brand new bumper sticker debuting at Phoenix Comicon this weekend! It’s so new, it’s not even in the shops. We literally picked it up yesterday afternoon from the printers. Come see us at Phoenix this weekend, it’s gonna be an epic show! . . . . #lokilives #infinitywar #avengers #tomhiddleston #thor #thanos #tomhiddleston #mcu #bumpersticker #originaldesign #naniwear

#thor #avengers #mcu #infinitywar #naniwear #tomhiddleston #originaldesign #lokilives #bumpersticker #thanos

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happywitch416 · 3 years

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Chapter 6

By the time Magurn and Elena reached the Hall of Vigilants, the smoke had long blown away. The boat had taken them from Solitude to Dawnstar, the horses making the journey easy as the sun blazed overhead. Before the Hall were several tents and laughter rang out from before the occupants realized they had company.

“Halt!” called a voice stronger than mountains, the Vigilants forming a half circle before them, pikes forward. “Who approaches the Hall?”

Elena sighed in relief. “Papa!” She slid off the back of her horse and ran to him. The big man wrapped his arms around her, his red hair whipping in the wind. She stepped from his embrace. “An apprentice came to the Temple with news that everyone was dead.”

Ranmeif shook his head. “Many of us were called to Stendarr’s work.” The amulet that hung on his chest glowed in the light. “The Keeper of the Vigil is gone, as is our history and knowledge.” She laid a comforting hand on his arm. He gave her hand a squeeze before approaching Magurn. He settled his fists on his hips, his enormous shoulders drawing back. “Still worshipping that Daedric Prince, orc?”

“Until my bones feed the Ashen Forge.” Ranmeif gave a roar of laughter before they slammed together, thumping each other’s backs, and exchanging cheerful insults. “Maga sends her love.”

Ranmeif shook his head. “Ah, that woman. She should know nothing will strike me down until I let it.”

Magurn chuckled, giving his shoulder one more slap. The wind swirled around Elena’s legs, the grass bending and twisting towards the hill. She gave it a long glance before settling in at the fireside to exchange news and tales with her fathers and the bedraggled Vigilants.

“We have some wounded.” Ranmeif waved a hand towards the largest tent. “Vampire attacks. They hit every night. We sent men to Dawnstar for horses, you probably passed them.”

“Where will you go from here?” Elena asked before taking a long drink of water. The time in the sun had warmed it but it was still better than nothing.

“I have granddaughters in Solitude that need visiting I think.” He gave her a grin. “The others are going to Stendarr’s Beacon, maybe we will join up with the Dawnguard. Isran is a tough old bastard but he was right all along.”

“Not going to seek a quiet retirement in the Temple of Divines?” Magurn asked with a sly grin.

“Stendarr’s mercy, what is there to do there? Tend the sick?” His laughter made everyone in the camp smile. “Magurn, you know I can’t retire until I am laid beneath my shield. Priesthood is too boring, especially in that drafty keep.” He took a long drink before fixing his gaze back on Elena. “And you? Are you going back to Solitude?”

She shook her head. “Kyne calls.”

He nodded, his face thoughtful. “Odara still cooped up in the Temple of Mara?” She nodded, her mind wincing at the lie. “That place is deader than a shrine of Arkay.”

“Oh.” She chuckled. “She has her ways.”

Elena saw them off, after tightening straps for the injured and mixing potions from her stores that would get them back to Solitude. Magurn and Ranmeif made up the rear guard, waving to her until they dropped out of sight. She chirped to her horse, a lumbering bay named Arjax, and headed over the hill the wind kept pushing her towards. She rode in silence, the breeze losing its edge. The path she followed led up the mountain a way, the sun-bleached dirt had begun to show darker splotches. She dismounted and knelt to look closer. Dried blood. She dropped the reins, trusting the horse to follow her and bolt if there was trouble. The cave was barely a crack in the cliff, but ancient carvings traced its entrance. She took a deep breath and stepped into its shadow, letting the sun fall away behind her with one last ruffle of breeze.

The cavern inside was large, but after exploring enough caves and ruins she had learned to not let entrances deceive her, too many massive dwarven doors led to empty storerooms. She murmured a quick prayer, fingers rubbing against her amulet before she checked the string on her bow. Kynareth guide me.

“These Vigilants” Elena swung her arrow point in the voice’s direction. “never know when to give up. I thought we'd taught them enough of a lesson at their hall.” She watched the man nudge the body with his foot.

The other shook its head. “To come in here alone...a fool like all the rest of them.”

“He fought well enough though. Jeron and Bresoth were no match for him.” Her gaze flitted briefly towards the other fallen bodies and she pulled the drawstring back.

“Those two deserved what they got. Their arrogance had become insufferable.” The words died on his lips as the ebony arrow plunged into his neck with a gurgle. The other barely had time to turn before another arrow laid him to rest beside his companion. Elena picked her way across the cavern and sifted through all the belongings.

She sighed when she got to the body that had been laying between them. The amulet of Stendarr was still giving a dull glow. “Poor dead bastard, why did you come here?” She left his belongings alone and arranged his body in quiet repose before murmuring. “Stendarr guide you in his mercy, Vigilant.”

The passage soon led to an even larger cavern, deep in the earth. She could well imagine the weight of years and dirt pressing upon her. Curious, monstrous statues lined the railings, all wings and claws. The elevated island in the center reminded her of the Nordic stone circles but this was different, it felt darker. She settled behind the railing to listen as a man belittled a prisoner.

The man spit from his knees. “I'll never tell you anything. My oath to Stendarr is stronger than any suffering you can inflict on me.”

He nodded. ��I believe you, Vigilant. And I don't think you even know what you've found here. So, go and meet your beloved Stendarr.” He cut the man down and she grimaced, berating herself for not taking a shot. She shook her head to clear it as the other began to speak.

“Are you sure that was wise, Lokil? He still might have told us something. We haven't gotten anywhere ourselves with...”

Lokil, she noted him, sharp and pale. “He knew nothing. He served his purpose by leading us to this place. Now it is up to us to bring Harkon the prize. And we will not return without it. Vingalmo and Orthjolf will make way for me after this.”

The other bowed slightly, the deference minimal. “Yes, of course Lokil.” There was a heavy pause, breath so thick she could cut it. “Do not forget who brought you news of the Vigilants' discovery.”

“I never forget who my friends are.” As they began to investigate the island, Lokil continued with what she could imagine to be a threatening smile. “Or my enemies.”

Elena crept down the stairs and onto the path to the island before firing her arrows. With a quick glance around, she stood from her crouch and ran lightly to Lokil’s corpse. He wore a strange insignia, it niggled at her mind as familiar, but she could not recall where she had seen it. “Hmm. Not some common thugs, are you then? But what were you doing here?”

She walked the stone circle, slowly spiraling inward as she examined the grooves in the floor, the braziers. At the center stood an empty pinnacle and she reached out to press the button in its center. She strangled the shout in her throat before gripping her bleeding hand to her chest. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” She winced and pulled a bottle from her belt, pouring the red liquid across her palm and grimaced as it sizzled and knitted the flesh back together. She glared at one of braziers before grabbing its handle with her good hand and dragging it through its groove. It stopped, jerking her to a stop with it. Flames shot from its bowl and a purple light formed a wall leading to the center. She grinned, laughing when she traced her fingers through the hum of magic. “Well. This won’t be so hard.”

It took some time, but she arranged the braziers until all were lit and the cavern glowed in the purple light. She moved back to the center and gingerly reached out for the button again. She half stumbled as the ground below her collapsed downward, the grooves becoming stair edges. She scampered down as a door opened and barely caught the falling woman before she hit the ground.

Hair dark as raven wings with simple braids framing her face and then her eyes were fluttering open, a deep glowing amber. “Uh. where is, who sent you here?” She pushed at her gently.

Elena let her clamber to her feet, trying to catch her own breath as her heart thudded in her ears. “Were you expecting someone?”

“I was expecting someone like me, at least.”

Elena’s head cocked to the side. “What do you mean, like you?”

“Can’t you tell from just looking at me?” She shook her head, the woman’s amber eyes glowed with an inner light. She sighed before smiling, baring fangs. “A vampire.”

Elena was silent for a moment, seeing her wariness mirrored in the woman. “Well to be forthright, I was just at the Hall of Vigilants that your people burnt down.”

“That's not a name I know. Not fond of vampires, are they?” Elena shook her head and a small sigh escaped her as she eyed the bodies. “Well look. Kill me, you've killed one vampire. But if people are after me, there's something bigger going on. I can help you find out what that is.”

Elena held up her hands. “Wait. I am not here to kill you or anything else. I was here as a curiosity. As long as you don’t try to eat me, we’re good.” She nodded and Elena swore silently as the words tumbled out her mouth. “Why were you locked away in here? Is that normal?”

“That's...complicated.” She fidgeted.” And I'm not totally sure if I can trust you. But if you want to know the whole story, help me get back to my family's home.” She gave a small smile. “By the way, my name is Serana. Good to meet you.”

Elena gave her a grin. “Elena Songschild.” Her eyes narrowed on the object rising from her shoulder and Serana took a step back. “Is that an Elder Scroll?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes, it is, and it's mine.” Elena kept her hands quiet at her sides, making no movement. The tension in Serana’s body was palpable. But she sighed and continued. “It's...complicated. I can't really talk about it. I'm sorry.” More uneasiness, with a touch of regret, but Elena decided she looked tired more than anything else. Whatever it was, a burden rested on her and she did not envy it.

At her nod, Serana relaxed a bit. “I have a pack that you can borrow if you want.”

Serana chuckled. “Nothing can destroy an Elder Scroll. Worry more about protecting your hide and let me worry about my things.”

Elena shook her head and began climbing the steps, hiding her smile. “How long were you in there?”

“Good question. Hard to say. I... I can't really tell. I feel like it was a long time. Who is Skyrim's High King?”

A derisive huff of laughter left her.” That’s up for debate, actually.”

“Oh, wonderful.” She could hear the eyeroll. “A war of succession. Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone. Who are the contenders?”

“The Empire supports Elisif, but there are many in Skyrim loyal to Ulfric for no reason other than to spite the Empire.”

Serana cut her off. “Empire? What...what empire?”

Elena stopped in her tracks and turned to stare at her. “The...Empire. From Cyrodiil?” The last word came out a squeak.

Disbelief overtook her face. “Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire? I must have been gone longer than I thought. Definitely longer than we planned. Please, let's hurry. I need to get home, so I can figure out what's happened.”

“Where is that?”

“It's on an island near Solitude. Hopefully, we can find a boat to take us there. It's my family home. Not the most welcoming place, but depending on who's around, I'll be safe there.”

Elena started forward again only to stop in her tracks, the darkness little more than moving shadows. “Any chance you know how to get out of here?”

Serana shook her head, her gaze joining Elena’s search of the cavern. “You’re guess is as good as mine. This place looks pretty different from when I was locked away.” Elena’s eyes roved the dim cavern before she raised a hand, a breeze gently nipping at her fingers, before heading for the far corner with its carvings. Serana perked up. “This feels right. I was starting to get worried."

"Well, Pa hasn’t led me wrong yet." Elena muttered quietly. At Serana’s look she shrugged. "He always says follow your gut or your partner's unless your guts disagree."

"What does he say then?"

"Disembowel them and read it in their entrails." Elena's grin widened at the shock that appeared on Serana's face momentarily. "He was raised in a stronghold, subtle isn't his thing. Although I am sure his time in the Legion did not help."

The light was blinding when Elena stepped from the cave, but she smiled at the deep breath Serana took. “It’s so good to breathe again. Even in this weather, it’s better than the cave.”

She chuckled, looping Arjax’s reins over her arm. The horse had not moved an inch. “This weather is wonderful. Solitude is between here and your home. Do you mind if we stop? I need to resupply. And I don’t know about you, but I would enjoy a good night’s rest.”

“I don’t need the sleep, but I would love to stop there.” Elena led the way to Dawnstar where she paid a small fishing boat an ungodly sum to take them to Solitude. Riding the Temple chartered ship with Magurn and Ranmeif would have been far more comfortable she grumbled, as she readjusted for the 100th time on the hard bench, but it would have been far harder to watch Serana smile every time the water sprayed through the air making rainbows, or her delight in the world around them. It would have been easier to ignore the changing currents in the winds, the icy cold sharp between the warmer breezes. Being a champion of Kyne was a glorious gift, but it didn’t make the winds of change easier to read.

A Warrior’s Heart Master List

#skyrim fic #elena songschild #and finally serana appears lol #the witch writes

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podawful · 4 years

Video

youtube

SLOW 👁️Dark Forces At Play - POD AWFUL PODCAST - https://youtu.be/Z2DFZ5IJMLI [1+ HOUR LONG EPISODE! PIZZA FUND ONLY. $12 LEVEL AND UP - http://podawful.pizza] Because of my TRANSVESTIGATIONS, I have many Dark Forces trying to take me down. I've flown too close to the sun, uncovering the TRUTH behind the conspiracies. One such Dark Force is Lokill Lynch, a psychotic (((BEING))) operating in the 10th Dimension who definitely doesn't do meth. Lokill believes in a god inside an SD Card and is speaking to computer experts and demonic forces in an effort to take me down. Meanwhile, Drew W. Shield, the Light Love Warrior from the AI Matrix has declared war on me just after defeating the Dragon Family of Asia. Is it too dangerous to keep being a WARRIOR OF TRUTH™ in times like these, or should I reveal the ultimate information that will blow these evil cabals away? I know who is behind Qanon and what the Q stands for. PODCAST: https://ift.tt/2wOumjA RSS FEED: https://ift.tt/2WoOPCO FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER: https://twitter.com/TheNWord SUBSCRIBE TO MY BACKUP CHANNEL: https://www.youtube.com/podawful2 FOLLOW ME ON DLIVE: https://ift.tt/2vHv2qv GET UPDATES ON FACEBOOK: https://ift.tt/38zUOdq Join the FACEBOOK CULT: https://ift.tt/2C6vgon Get a T-SHIRT or DOWNLOAD a prank call show at http://podawful.shop http://podawful.com

#podcast #pod awful #YouTube

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johndibiase · 3 years

Photo

Here’s a real oldie! I drew this freehand a while back in graphite with a hint of green colored pencil. Anyone seen the new Loki show yet? (I have not!) @twhiddleston #loki #tomhiddleston #mcu #disneyplus #Thor #disney #infinitywar #avengers #thorragnarok #thorthedarkworld #lokilives #marvel #art #artist #instaart #artwork #draw #drawing #freehand #gallery #instaart #artcollective #creative #coloredpencil #inspiration #fanart #artistic #etsy #jjdart https://www.instagram.com/p/CP9AW5KsCYJ/?utm_medium=tumblr

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cruzsart · 3 years

Text

If this isn’t how Mobius and Sylvie meet then I don’t want it✨😤

#sylvie owns my heart #unrelated #but i thought you should know #loki #sylvie #mobius #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki of asgard #sylvie laufeydottir #loki series #lokil show #fanart #marvel #loki fanart #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanart

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cruzsart · 3 years

Text

Some highlights from the beginning of the episode. I swear I’ve rewatched that part like 6 times by now🤣

#loki #loki of Asgard #loki laufeyson #Loki odinson #loki fanart #fanart #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanart #loki series #lokil show

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cruzsart · 3 years

Text

He IS the moment✨

Was very excited for this outfit because suits or just a dress shirt and a tie are my weakness 🥵

Also! new art style unlocked 😎

#loki #loki of asgard #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #lokil show #loki series #loki fanart #fanart #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanart #loki 01x02 #the variant

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poetickitten · 5 years

Text

*YOUR PROMPT COULD BE HERE* :/

Pairing: Lokil Lavellan x Solas

Rating: G for General Audiences

Warnings: None

for @dadrunkwriting and @thevikingwoman

Disclaimer: *Angry elves are the cutest thing to write*

Another disclaimer: tumblr is such a joy today. my original post with the prompt by @thevikingwoman has been lost in the Void somewhere. So fyi: The prompt was: in the face of his/her fury.

Under the cut, because kinda long.

Hell hath no fury

“Freed will be all slaves!”

His ancient parole thunders across the hall as he raises his voice; this is the spark that finally and irrevocably spurs them into action. His last words are swallowed by the answering cries of the elves drawing their weapons and rushing towards their would-be masters, swords raised high, the pain of years and even generations of abuse and cruelty etched into their contorted faces. Their former owners clearly weren’t prepared for battle when they came here. They walked blindly into his trap, confident in their misguided assumption of inherent superiority over his race. They trusted that their vicious words of intimidation and the threat of magic would frighten the elves they consider their property back into place, as it has been for hundreds of years.

But the instant the elves surge forward, bloodlust in their hearts and on their faces, a deafening blast shatters the high wooden gates behind them, the force of it such that Solas has difficulty keeping on his feet. A throng of armed men that don’t belong to the army he has been building pour through the doorway, swarming into the room with a swell of noise, battle cries, and stomping, trampling feet, their glinting blades held high. Solas unconsciously tightens the grip on his staff as he struggles for a moment to grasp who these sudden intruders fight for or who could have sent them here. But then he looks more closely, pacing up and down on the dais raised in the middle of the room, his mind grinding into action, and he recognizes the symbol emblazoned on the chest pieces of their armor; an eye wreathed in holy flame. He has seen it on banners swaying in the wind, carried into many battles when he was still fighting on the same side as them. The Inquisition. Confusion makes his brows knit together. She disbanded the Inquisition years ago. How could they be here? It takes him a moment to catch on, to realize that, no matter how this has happened, it might mean –

The thought hasn’t fully formed in his head yet, but his eyes are already raking across the room, trying to discern a single face amidst the horde. He hears her before his eyes have found her, however. Lokil. She is shouting commands at someone, but he still has not found her from where he is observing the fray ensuing below. He turns to join them, protect his men, find her, but-

He hasn’t taken two steps towards the stairs that lead down into the room when he stops dead in his tracks.

She is there.

“Hello, Solas.” She is slowly ascending the steps, the staff that he helped craft for her held at her side by a glinting prosthetic hand.

He tried to cling to every detail of her face in the vast space of the years since he saw her last. He imprinted every small line, and every freckle in his memory, willingly scratching out parts of himself to make room for her and then had to chastise himself for doing so. Even years spent apart and spent deliberately evading her efforts at tracking him down are not enough to dull the sharp feeling she pushed into him. It is bubbling up painfully, wrenching and broiling into a tight knot in his gut at the unexpected sight of her. Seeing her now without warning that she would be here is like seeing her for the first time all over again.

She has changed so much, and yet, not at all. She has become thin and there are shadows under her eyes. But her gaze is still so inescapable, so compelling, as if she knew every one of his thoughts chasing each other around his head. The gleam in her eyes is triumphant at having finally tracked him down, but Solas still notices that they are tinged with a trace of bitterness; she is trying to press it to the corners, make it unseen. She knew that he would be here and she has had a chance to prepare for this encounter, unwilling to offer her pain to him freely.

He would not deserve it under any circumstance.

So he will not push his pain onto her either; and he straightens himself and hardens his expression, clasps his hands behind his back, adopting a proud, characteristic stance. “Vhenan.” He has to overcome, for both their sakes. One glimpse cannot be enough to weaken his resolve again. She comes to a slow stop a few feet from him, the smallest flicker on her face betraying her heart. Vhenan. The endearment stings. He knows her too well. He does not wish to hurt her. “So. You have found me at last. How did you do it?”

A small half-smile pulls at one corner of her lips. Her lips.“It took me some time, but-”, she admits, “I figured out my mistake.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And what was that?” For one fleeting moment, he can feel himself wanting to slip into his old ways, guiding her, encouraging her.

“I spent three years trying to track you down. To no avail.” Sting. Three years she considers wasted. To her, it is a lot. “For too long I let myself wallow in my pain. The way you left-” Sting. “They way you left, it left me feeling… weak.” She hates admitting it, he knows. “Weaker than I was. I believed it would be almost impossible to calculate your next moves and guess at your intentions. I thought we simply had too little information; you didn’t leave me with much to go on, after all.” Sting. The memory of the shattered remains of their bond he left her with makes her eyebrows knit together softly for a moment. “Especially after disbanding; we lacked the resources of the old Inquisition. But I was wrong to let my grief cloud my judgment. I let go of the idea of -” She falters. “The idea that I could… persuade you into coming back. I figured out… erm… a different way forward. It was enough to track you to this place.”

Solas cannot stop his expression from softening into a small, indulgent smile. “I applaud your determination.” He bows his head in a gesture of respect for her. “I always have. I have ever admired your ability to question your own outlook whenever you felt yourself getting stuck; to question your decisions.” Sting. “An ability all too rare in those who hold positions of immense power, like you do.”

Something defiant and cocky lights up her features. She seems to be chewing on her tongue, clearly holding back a playfully indignant remark at his patronizing tone and at the challenge. This was nothing he ever had to teach her, and he knows it. But Solas delights in the fact that he is still able to gaud her this way, to spark her defiance and her resolution. Talking to her still seems so familiar. He pauses and looks at her more seriously then. “The worst decision you ever made, however-” His hands twitch behind his back. “- I could not talk you out of.”

The corners of her mouth turn down as if there was a bitter taste on her tongue. “How can you say that.”, she demands quietly, the short-lived spark from a moment before fading somewhat. It is no real question; merely an expression of the hurt the thought causes her that he might not put the same unyielding faith in their love anymore. He still does. There is simply no point in indulging that thought. This can never be.

She speaks again, putting deliberate pressure on every slow, measured word. “It was worth it.”, she says earnestly, her conviction unbroken. He can tell that she is struggling to keep her voice from wavering. “All of it. I don’t regret a single day spent by your side.” She takes a steadying breath and raises her chin proudly. “And there is nothing you can do that could ever make me.”

She has him there. Solas hates himself for allowing it to show - for what good will it do her? - but he is unable to keep his face from contorting a little in the shared pain over the impossibility of this love. He will never understand what he can possibly have done to earn this remarkable woman’s trust. How he would wish to lavish his love on her, bury her in warm words and soothe the tender aches he has inflicted on her - on them both - with still more tender kisses.

He falters.

“My love, I-”

Whoosh. There is a sharp hissing sound and a bolt of heat is rushing straight for his face. Solas gets the barrier up just in time. When the burst of flame hits the shield and bounces off to the sides, he can see her again, her stance no longer still and upright, but getting ready to hit him again, her feet planted firmly on the ground, ready to attack. Before Solas has fully realized what is happening, she has cast two more spells, and suddenly the air around him is crackling with her magic, as she releases blast after blast, turning the elements loose on him. But he does not fight back. Some part of him is still so deeply in the habit of trusting her, though that may be a mistake by now, he begins to realize. With every blast she releases, she steps closer, forcing him to retreat from her onslaught. She whirls her staff above her head and then smashes its blade on the stone floor with a keening sound that makes his teeth hurt, making the ground rumble beneath his feet, a snarl on her face. The force of the spell makes him bend over to balance himself out and prevent his feet from giving in. The barrier flickers, as he can feel the stone balustrade that lines the dais at his back. He cannot help but marvel at the strength of her magic; she has become powerful.

She got him. Clever girl.

He realizes that she lured him into thinking that she was about to give in to her grief once more. She knows him well enough, too, it seems. He never was able to resist whenever she released the full, incomprehensible power of her conviction and her utter trust in him on his nervous heart. A honey trap. She knew that he could not bear to contemplate in earnest what his betrayal must have done to her. And she used it to lower his guard.

“Fight back!”, she yells, her voice ripping through the singed air, just a hint of a laugh in it. Taunting him. “Fight back!”

But all he can do is look at her and gravely shake his head. He puts the barrier up before she releases a new string of attacks, even fiercer than the last one.

Enraged, she seems to understand perfectly why he doesn’t defend himself as she redoubles her efforts and hits him again and again, a barrage of fire and ice assaulting his barrier in an earnest attempt to break it. But she never gets that far.

Out of nowhere, she interrupts her advance and turns her head abruptly to look around the room. The afterglow of her spells still has his ears ringing. But then he hears the roaring, cheering cries of the soldiers and he realizes that the battle in the room down below is over.

He lingers a moment too long. He means to turn his head and look at her again, but before she has fully come into focus, Solas can feel something cold and flat hitting the side of his head hard, sending him reeling sideways. He stumbles and falls backward, his back against the banister behind him. He fights the urge to vomit. When the pain and nausea recede and the vision before his eyes has cleared once more, she is standing over him, a broad, wicked grin on her face.

“You didn’t think that I’d be gotten rid of that easily, did you? You taught me, after all.”, she says jubilantly, her tone giddy. She bends down to where he is sitting slumped on the floor and grabs his chin none too gently, jerking his face up to force him to look directly into her eyes.

Inescapable.

Solas cannot help but chuckle weakly. “Well done. I have to admit, seeing you here, like this-” He smiles sheepishly, more at his own weakness than at her. He knows his eyes are smoldering with admiration for her, but he cannot help himself. “You played to my one weakness.”

She grins, despite herself. “Just like you always did with me. I learned from the best.”

“That was my mistake then.” There it is again. Sting. Her grip on his chin tightens harshly. But he feels a surge of pride in her at her words.

She lifts one eyebrow and speaks, a worthy imitation of his most condescending expression and his most patronizing tone, mockery dripping like honey from her words. “Tsk, tsk, Solas. Letting mere sentiment get in the way of your oh-so-rational, ever-so-cautious assessments. A foolish beginner’s mistake.” She is delighting in every word. And she deserves to.

“I will never lie down and accept the fate you have in store for me.” Sting. ”But until we settle that argument once and for all, there are goals we share.” She nods in the direction of the doors, and he assumes that she means his plans to abolish slavery. “I think I see now that you had to leave. Well-”, she interrupts herself, “No. I don’t understand it, exactly. But I have come to terms with it.” Then she grins, her voice dangerously sweet as she continues, only for him to hear, for him alone to understand her precise meaning. “Still. This is for the way you did it.”

And her backhand smacks the side of his face, hard, not like he has done to her so many times when she was still his, not meaning to hurt but always to heighten her pleasure. This stings. They are even. The smile on her face softens, then. Glee at her victory has rekindled that bright, fiery spark in her eyes again that he has not seen there for a long time. He believed he had managed to snuff out the dim glimmer that was left of it when he turned his back on her the last time they saw each other and stepped through the Eluvian. “Whenever you’re ready, Solas.”, she whispers. “Whenever you’re ready for this to be over, you know where to find me.” She wipes a trickle of blood from his lips with her thumb, still grabbing his chin. “Come home.” And she crosses the small distance between them, as she has done so many times before, and in many different ways, and places the softest kiss on his lips, still smiling. She lingers just a second too long. “And, Solas.”, she whispers, “I did mean what I said. I don’t regret any of it. And I never will.”

One last stroke across the line of his jaw with just the tips of her fingers, and she turns and walks away. Though reluctant to admit it even to himself, Solas cannot help but feel his love for her grow. He tried to tear her apart with his love and his lies. And not only does she still hold on to this love, but she also used it to figure out a way to overcome. What a vicious half-truth she used to slink her way into his head. Just like she said: She learned from the best.

Solas scrambles to his feet, still dazed. He turns to see her leaving the hall through the shattered wooden gates, surrounded by cheering soldiers, but not before throwing one last glowing look over her shoulder back at him.

He will see her again.

#aaaaaah #tumblr ate my original post #again #dwc #da:i fanfic #Solavellan #solas x lokil #hell hath no fury #a kitty tries to write #oh Solas #you deserve it #a bit #a lot #bad dog

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poetickitten · 7 years

Note

23,24,37 (get to know my character)

For Lokil Lavellan

23. What is your character like when it comes to school? What subjects are they good/bad at? Do they get in trouble a lot or are well behaved?

Wooo. I had to think about this one for a while.

I feel like Lokil would be very studious in general and deeply interested in lots of different things. But she’d also get distracted very easily. Definitely a textbook example of always-have-my-head-in-the-clouds, running into doorframes, forgetting her books and so on.

But she’d still have a knack for any kind of very abstract work. She mostly lets herself be guided by intuition in anything she has to tackle. Me personally, I feel like this ability is almost ‘inherent’ to any kind of creative expression, so she’d be good at subjects that build on that ability and on creativity. Anything where she is given artistic range, so maybe music? Art classes? Languages?

That would also be what causes the most trouble I guess, not being able to focus on things that don’t rely on this trait.Anything that comes with a very clear set of rules, and that doesn’t allow her to explore in her own way the subjects she has to study. I imagine she’d get very frustrated with things like that, things that don’t come easily to her but she so wants and needs to understand. It brings to light the fact that she can become very stubborn and short-tempered in the face of anything that she can’t grasp intuitively.This would lead to outbursts in class that distract everyone else whenever she feels she needs to vent some of her frustration when it comes to her own weaknessess.

24. In their own words, how would your character describe what their lover is like? (Solas, duh)

‘Oh, don’t get me started. I hate this man, I love this man. I have never met anyone like him; and I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much of myself in someone else. But there’s also still so much I don’t understand, so much I think he doesn’t tell me, and never will. He will give you the feeling of the most profound connection one moment, the feeling that the pieces of everything you’re still looking for somehow fall into place all at once. And the next, he turns away with the harshest, iciest rejection; and it just crushes you.

Utterly. Crushes. You.

But I refuse to see anything but what I see, which is a gentle and kind soul, no matter how hard they try to tell me otherwise. And I’ll be damned if I should ever give up on him.

Okay, I mostly love this man.’

Even before she knows about his true identity, she already feels she needs to save him from himself. She feels very protective of him, to the point of thinking of him in an almost overbearing and assuming way.

37. What are some of your character’s pet peeves? What are some things that annoy them or disgust them?

Okay, I’m not sure if that counts as pet peeves, but: cruelty towards or ignorance of other’s, maybe less fortunate people’s, plights will always rub her the wrong way. She generally can’t stand condescension or people making light of others’ troubles. Related to that, people being afraid of stepping outside their narrow world-views and refusing to learn, no matter how uncomfortable - also something she can’t understand. That really irritates her, never more than when she feels it is being done to her, especially by Solas when he refuses to accept her willingness to stand by him. That makes her feel so powerless when she’s usually the ine trying to empower others. But apart from that, it also shows her impatience with others when they don’t rise to her somewhat exacting and high standards. Something she needs to work on.

And one more, entirely unrelated thing: I think she doesn’t mind the sight of blood so much (can’t really afford to in her position, can she?) but some of the things she has seen don’t really let go of her. Those images of violence, which has never been part of her life before becoming Inquisitor, don’t ever really leave her and she finds it hard to deal with the nightmares that follow. That really bugs her, because she knows that obsessing about these things won’t get her anywhere, and she feels weak and more fragile than she thinks she can afford to be. Annoyed with herself, in this case :)

Also, she is someone who values (if not overestimates the meaning of) manners. So: people spitting on the ground, loud snuffling, talking tot loudly in public spaces and anything of that sort. In general, disregard for her sensitivites regarding things like that will make her head split.

Oh, and

Other people reminding her of or complaining about her tardiness. Beware. Rage incoming.

#thevikingwoman #ask meme #thanks for the asks #this was fun :)

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