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elvenprincessv · 3 years

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Dragon Age Inquisition Elvish

hahren na melana sahlin=elder your time is come

emma ir abelas=now I am filled with sorrow

souver'inan isala hamin=weary eyes need resting

vhenan him dor'felas=heart has become grey and slow

in uthenera na revas=in waking sleep is freedom

vir sulahn'nehn=we sing rejoice

vir dirthera=we tell the tale

vir samahl la numin=we laugh and cry

vir lath sa'vunin=we love one more day

Melava inan enansal=Time was once a blessing

ir su araval tu elvaral=but long journeys are made longer

u na emma abelas=when alone within

in elgar sa vir mana=Take spirit from the long ago

in tu setheneran din emma na=but do not dwell in lands no longer yours

lath sulevin=Be certain in need

lath araval ena=and the path will emerge

arla ven tu vir mahvir=to a home tomorrow

melana ‘nehn=and time will again

enasal ir sa lethalin=be the joy it once was

Andaran atish’an=I dwell in this place

An'daran Atish'an=My home is your home You will not come to harm while you are here

Aneth ara=My safe place

Ar lasa mala revas=You are free

Ar lath ma=I love you

Asha'belannar=The Woman of Many Years

Bellanaris Din'an Heem=Make you dead

Bellanaris Din'an=eternal death

Dareth shiral=Safe journey

Dirth'ena enasalin=knowledge that led to victory

Dirthara ma=May you learn

Ara seranna ma=Excuse me

Fen'Harel enansal=The Dread Wolf’s blessing

Ghilan'him banal'vhen=The path that leads astray

Halam'shivanas=The sweet sacrifice of duty

Ir abelas=I am sorry

Ir abelas ma vhenan=I am filled with sorrow for your loss my heart

Ir tel'him=I’m me again

Lathbora viran=the path to a place of lost love

Ma ghilana mir din'an=Guide me into death

Ma melava halani=You helped me

Mala suledin nadas=Now you must endure

Ma nuvenin=As you wish

Ma vhenan=My heart

Ma serannas=My thanks

Ma halani=Help me

Melana en athim las enaste=Now let humility grant favor

Tel'abelas=I’m not sorry

Tel garas solasan=Come not to a prideful place

Telanadas=Nothing is inevitable

Vir'abelasan=The place of the way of sorrows

Tarasyl'an Te'las=the place where the sky was held back

Fenedhis lasa=Go suck a wolf’s dick

Dar'eth shiral=Have a safe journey

Isalan hima sa i’na=I lust to become one with you

Isalan hima na=I lust to become you

Isalan gara suin na=I lust to come into you

Isalan gara suin na=I want to come into you

Isalan ma gara suin em=I lust for you to come into me

Isalan ma gara suin em=I want you to come into me

Vera em su tarasyl=Take me to the sky

Juveran na su tarasyl=I will take you to the sky

Isalan dara su tarasyl i’na =I want to go to the sky with you

isalan dara su tarasyl i'na=I want to go to the sky with you

Isalan dera na aron tuelan=I will touch you like a god/goddess

Ar'na=me and you

ar'na=me and you

Fen'harel ver na=Dread wolf take you

fen'harel ver na=dread wolf take you

Nuvas ema ir'enastela=Thank you May you have great blessings

Nuvas ema ir’enastela=Thank you May you have great blessings

nuvas ema ir’enastela=thank you May you have great blessings

nuvas ema ir'enastela=thank you May you have great blessings

Sathem lasa halani=Pleased to help

sathem lasa halani=pleased to help

lasa halani=pleased to help

Lasa halani=Pleased to help

Dinathe'dirthelan=Necromancer

Lin'thanelan=Blood mage

Ena'sal'in'amelan=Arcane Warrior

Ladarelan'elgar=Spirit Healer

Dun'himelan=Shape shifter

Panathe'virelan=Battle mage

Uralas'falon=Keeper

Ala'syl'ise'man'thanelan=Elemental mage

Sou'alas'rajelan=Force mage

Sou'i’ve'an'thanelan=Rift Mage

Erelan=Dreamer

Erelanen=Dreamers

Erelan dun'himelan=Skilled Dream mage

#elvish #dragonageinquisition #dragonage #lavellan #elvenlanguage #elven #dreadwolf

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himluv · 4 years

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Inevitable Update

Fuck it. We’re celebrating up in this bitch. HAVE SOME SMUT! (Set directly after Never Again).

Reminder, you can read Inevitable from the beginning here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21998044

They walked back to the forward base in silence. Varric and Dorian walked ahead of them, close enough to defend in case of a threat, but far enough to afford the couple some privacy if they wanted to talk.

Riallan did not want to talk. After her visit to the Fade, her body was exhausted, her heart weary. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, twining and tangling in whirlwind fashion, too fast to keep up with. The Nightmare, the Divine, Alistair, the tombstones. One after another, endlessly circling and pulling her under. The only thing keeping her head above water was Solas’ fingers laced through hers.

He walked in silence beside her, closer than he normally would. His hand was warm and dry, like the desert at night, and focusing on his skin against hers calmed her somewhat. She dreaded reaching the forward camp, when all eyes would be on her and he would let go of her hand to vanish into the background.

Except, he didn’t.

He glanced at her as they entered the camp, checking to see if she was ready to face the Inquisition. She nodded that she was, and when she loosened her grip on his hand, his tightened.

He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a fleeting kiss to the back. “Come,” he said, the word all the encouragement she needed. They stepped into the forward base side by side, hand in hand, and she took all the silent strength he offered.

Soldiers nodded to her, their eyes flicking to Solas, to their hands intertwined, and then back. There were gasps, whispers, money exchanged hands as bets were settled, but there was no outrage. No condemnation at the two apostates. And there was no outcry, no demands for her time or her attention. It was as if Solas were a barrier between her and the Inquisition forces.

Still, the relief was palpable as Solas raised the flap to her tent and followed after her. She had done all she could that night. Let the Inquisition fend for itself for one evening. Let the mantle of Inquisitor fall from her shoulders. Let her just be Riallan for a little while.

Solas lit the candles with a careless gesture. “Are you hungry?” He asked as he helped her unbuckle her armor. It wasn’t a task she truly needed help with, but his hands seemed unable to be far from her.

She knew she should be hungry, but she wasn’t. She shook her head.

Concern flickered across his face, but he nodded.

Once free of her armor and dressed in her customary leggings and oversized tunic, she sank onto the pile of blankets in the center of her tent. Normally, her field tent had just enough room for their two bedrolls and their supplies, but the Inquisitor’s tent in a forward base demanded something much more grand. She had a cot in one corner, a desk in another, and even a wash basin and mirror along one canvas wall. The first thing she had done the night before was lay out her bedroll and the bedding from the cot onto the floor. She would be much more comfortable there, even after all these months sleeping in a bed in Skyhold.

“Would it be too much to ask for a bath?” She smiled, meaning the words as a joke.

Solas frowned down at her. “Perhaps in a desert, vhenan. I can inquire with—“

She took his wrist in her hand. “I was kidding.” She chuckled, but it wasn’t as heartfelt as usual. “Lie down with me?”

His mouth smiled but that little crease in his brow never moved.

She tugged on his hand and he sank to sit cross-legged in front of her. “Stop worrying,” she said.

“I cannot.” The candlelight lent his face a warm glow, playing across the long slope of his nose. “I worry about you, Ria. No matter how hard I try.”

She looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry, Solas. I needed you to stay, I —“ His palm, warm and dry against her cheek stopped her.

“I do not blame you, vhenan.” A little frown, that crease in his brow deepened. “You made the right decision. Even if I could not see it at the time.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He shook his head, once and so softly, more to himself than to her. “I fear we are well past the time where either of us could hope to avoid heartache.” His tone was light, offsetting the grim words, but his eyes carried a different weight now. A familiar one. He held her gaze as his thumb traced her jaw and then her lower lip.

She kissed him, swift and sudden. She expected to surprise him, but Solas met her desire, his fingers grasping the back of her neck and drawing her into him. Riallan’s hands roamed, bunching in his tunic, scraping his scalp, tracing an ear. And with every touch, every little gasp she pulled from him, it felt like her blood had set aflame.

She let out a little yelp as his hands moved to lift her onto his lap. He laughed, low and breathy against her neck and Riallan’s head spun. She dropped her head back, bit her lip, and sighed as his mouth explored every inch of her throat.

“Is this real?” She asked.

“Yes, vhenan.” That throaty chuckle again. It was such a rare and beautiful sound.

She rolled her hips against him and a wave of heat crashed over her at his moan. He pulled her closer, his fingers digging into her hips. She grabbed at his shirt, slow at first, but he didn’t protest as she lifted the hem. Instead he obliged her, raising his arms to let her pull the tunic over his head.

This was new territory for them. They occasionally helped each other out of their armor, saw and felt bare skin when one of them needed healing, but this feverish removal of clothing? Only in her dreams.

But she wasn't dreaming, not this time. The fire of his touch proved that. His hands, those long, artist’s fingers, crept beneath her tunic to rove over her skin. It was the most forward he’d been since that afternoon in the Forbidden Oasis. Not that there had been much time alone for them since then. But still, it’d been weeks of heated glances, lingering touches, and too brief kisses. She needed this.

Especially after the day they’d had.

It seemed, for once, that Solas agreed. Usually he was so hesitant, unwilling to initiate contact beyond a kiss here and there. But tonight he felt resolute, desperate even. And that worried her. As badly as she wanted this, wanted him, this wasn’t like him.

Riallan pulled back, her hands on each side of his face. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide to leave the barest fringe of sea grey around them. His lips were bright, even against the flush of his face in the candlelight. He looked amazing, suddenly so real beneath her touch.

“Vhenan?” He blinked. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you sure?” She ran a hand through her hair. “We’ve never… We haven’t — I just want you to be sure.” She was an idiot. She had stopped them so she could babble half sentences and ruin the entire mood? Riallan sighed and looked down at their laps.

Gentle fingers lifted her chin. “I am certain, Ria,” he said. He kissed her cheek. “I thought the worst today.” His lips pressed to the other side of her face. “And all I could think was that the last words I ever spoke to you were in anger.” A brush of his mouth against her forehead. “That your last memory of me would not be one of love.” His voice was low, rough and fragile.

She shuddered at the sound, at the emotion, a display so rare for Solas.

He kissed her, his mouth tender against hers. There was no rush, no desperate heat, just longing and need and relief. She melted against him, her arms looping around his neck as she deepened the kiss. They went slower, relishing in one in other, in the fact that they both still lived.

Impossibly.

With sure fingers, Solas tugged at the hem of her tunic, and once it was off and tossed across the tent, any lingering doubts Riallan had went with it. He did not hesitate. His touch was firm, decisive. He knew what he wanted and he would have it, if she would let him.

She gasped when his hands found the edges of her breast band. She had longed for this, for him to be so bold, to feel his hands on every inch of her skin. But now that the moment was here, she couldn’t seem to believe it was real.

And then the breast band was gone, tossed aside like her tunic, and his mouth moved to her chest. Her world narrowed to where his tongue pressed against her flesh, how good it felt, how his merest touch suffused her entire body with warmth.

He released her, the air suddenly cool against her skin. “I would make amends,” he said. The emotion in his words was still there, but something dark thrilled in his voice. A promise. “Isalan sera na aron tuelan.”

She didn’t understand everything he said. Something about lust and touch and the Creators. But she didn’t need to understand. She got the meaning just fine: he would make up for lost time. She nodded, she wasn’t really capable of more than that at the moment, and kissed him.

His tongue met hers, explored her mouth, teased her lips, as he tilted her back and laid her onto the blankets. Then his mouth traveled. Down her chin, her jaw, trailed along her throat to pause at each breast. A flick of his tongue on each nipple made her arch and writhe, and the smile he graced her with was utterly predatory.

It had been too long since a partner had made her feel this desired. Too long since she had craved someone as much as she craved him.

Her leggings went next, his stare transfixed as she wiggled her hips free of them. His touch was slow, reverent. Fingertips blazed along the tail of her vallaslin, claiming the territory as his. Marveling at the shiver that rolled through her. Solas’ eyes soaked her in, watched her every movement as if he could draw his pleasure simply from the sight of her.

“Please.” The word was a hush of breath on her tongue.

He smirked, all wonder replaced with stark hunger. His touch ghosted along her skin, those eyes watching for her frustration, glinting when she caught her lip between her teeth. Riallan closed her eyes and focused on the feel of those hands on her body, the casual touch that ventured up her thigh until it was intimate enough to make her moan.

“People will hear, vhenan,” he said. There was a smile in his voice.

“Let them.”

He hummed at that and then pulled her small clothes down her legs. More rapid-fire elvhen, too fast to catch, too low to hear, his breath against her skin as he bent down to press featherlight kisses up her leg. Then Riallan’s world went white as he tasted her for the first time.

She’d dreamed of this moment. Fantasized. But neither had ever captured the worship in his eyes. The shiver of elvhen that poured from his lips, spoken in reverence against her most sensitive places. The tremble of his fingertips where they bit into her hips.

Heat swirled low in her belly, spiraled, taut and desperate. “Solas.”

He hummed against her and smiled at her gasp.

“I — Fenedhis, emma lath, I…” Her eyelids fluttered, her sight flickering from the dark brown of the canvas above her, the flash of candlelight, the spread of the wolfish grin on his face as she fell apart around him.

She shuddered and shook, heat and light crashing through her in delicious waves until it was all she knew.

Solas sat back and watched blissful agony wash over his vhenan’s face, consumed by the sight. The smell of her arousal overwhelmed him, the taste of her thick and cloying on his tongue. For the first time in his long life, a lover had conquered him completely. In that moment there were no Elvhen besides her. No Elvhenan to restore. No betrayed kin haunting his every step. There was simply Riallan.

He had not felt so free in millennia.

As her trembling eased, Solas trailed one hand across her skin to resume the work of his tongue. Tiny touches, light and wondering. Asking, was she ready to continue? The whimpers that came with each flick of his fingertip were answer enough.

And yet his hands hesitated at the lacings of his breeches.

This was the final piece. The last barrier he had built up between them, his heart’s last remaining defense. She would never know whole truth of him, he vowed then never to be Fen’Harel when he was with her, but that didn’t mean those truths wouldn’t belong to her. If he did this, if he succumbed to the desire decimating them both, he would surrender his every truth at her feet. If he relinquished his burdens, she would take them up, whether she knew it or not.

“Solas?”

Dark eyes stared up at him, wide and wanting and worried. For once he couldn’t bring himself to allay her fears. In the dim, flickering light of her tent, he was guileless and raw, nothing more than her apostate lover. Nothing more than that name on her lips.

“Let me help,” she said. Riallan sat up, delicate fingers on his lacings, twining with his until they worked together to remove this last obstacle between them. The breeches slid off his hips and she made to lie back, but his hand on hers rooted her in place. He kissed her fingertips, her palm, her wrist and the crease of her elbow, guiding her down with each press of his lips.

He breathed his love against the crook of her neck, tasted the salt-sweet warmth of her and relished the tiny gasp, the curve of her body against his. She made it painfully clear that she wanted him, needed him, and at last he admitted that he needed her too.

For months he had lied to himself, had denied her touches and her skin and the heat of her body pressed to his. He’d believed it was in her best interest to maintain his distance, even after he’d declared his affection. That it would protect her in the long run. But he knew now that was just another selfish excuse.

He was merely protecting himself, as ever.

But after watching her die, again, he couldn’t bear to imagine spending this night alone. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to know her body with his every sense and to let her know him in turn.

“Please.” The word fell from her lips, a chant, breathless and needy. He caught the word on his tongue, pressed his mouth to hers and relished in the heat of her kiss. Her nails bit into his hips, begging him closer.

Solas obliged her.

He stifled a moan and watched her eyelids flutter. Her lips parted, the heat blossomed on her cheeks for once not from embarrassment but from pleasure. Yet again he was struck by how real she was under his hands. Riallan was vibrant, visceral and all-consuming. She tethered him to this world in a way he had never known, in a way he didn’t think he could ever un-know.

His hands roamed, as if they hoped to map every inch of her body in the course of one evening. He moved gently at first. There was no need to rush, he reminded himself. There was time, for now. For this.

But Riallan had different ideas.

Her hands pulled him close, urged and pleaded, guided and instructed how she wanted to be loved. Solas had never known a lover so confident — love-making in Elvhenan was a languorous thing, much like everything else — and Riallan’s urgency thrilled him.

He’d thought to go slow, to cherish this moment, but as she moved with him she moaned and bit her lip and looked absolutely devastating in her passion. A millennium alone was far too long to withstand such perfection.

So, he gave her what she wanted. He worshiped at her altar, whispered his truths in elvhen so fast she could never understand. He gave her everything he had to give, body and spirit.

And though it terrified him, it was the sweetest surrender.

#riallan lavellan #solavellan #solas #dragon age #celebrate da4 sneak peak

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fadewalking · 4 years

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U'Vher tho

‘👄 + character name’ and my muse will say if they find them attractive. ─ @uvher

“Ma’haurasha, sounal em i’salathe. Isalan dera na aron tuelan.”

#uvher #Conversations #Asks #hahah..#''you make me strong with desire. i'll touch you like a god''#thrown in with an affectionate term that doesn't have a smooth translation #let's just say it's a steamy pet name.#so i'd call that a yes #elvisqueso

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mindtrove · 7 years

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35 for a pairing of your choice ^^

35. As a goodbye

I tried to stay on topic but not sure how well I did with that lol

I decided to do something different! And chose to write about Moro and Arlen (Ramia’s biological father). Perhaps this is more an AU where Moro doesn’t drive Arlen to making his little ‘fatal’ mistake.

So this is kind of a hopeful one-shot lol

The way you said “I love you.“

“You knew what thiswas when we started Arlen, I like you, but this is just for fun. I thought wewere on the same page.”

“And nothing’s changed for you? In nearly two years?”

“It can’t changeArlen…”

“It can’t change? Oryou won’t let it?”

“Enough Arlen, besides…Deshanna’sbeen setting her sights on Tuelan for me.”

It would be difficult for Moro to face Arlen again, but hewas in charge of providing arms for the hunters and she could only avoid himfor so long.

Two years was a long time to bond, whether Moro wanted toadmit it or not that was what it was, at least in the clan’s eyes. In Arlen’seyes. She didn’t understand this need he had to settle down, but perhaps it washer own fault for involving herself with a man three years her senior. Most ofthe clansmen at his age were married and with children, and he was always thebroody type. She felt that heavy pit in her stomach when they were together andhis eyes drifted off to the children. Even if he didn’t admit it, Moro knewdeep down he was ready to be a father, ready to take this dalliance they hadand make something serious of it.

But Moro wasn’t ready, she still wasn’t sure if she reallydid love him. She had thought leaving the alienage would end that particularpressure of assimilation, but the Dalish were no better.

“Hey.”

Arlen was pulling a scarf over his forehead, brushing theunruly curls from his face to work more diligently. He was startled by Moro’s presence,but he composed himself quickly and put on a smile, half-hearted as it was.

“Daggers?”

“Yes…and a bow, for Faron.” Moro stared at her feet, unsurehow to speak to him. She knew she was hurting him, but her need for control wouldn’tallow her to relent and promise something she was not ready to give.

“Moro can I speak to you? Around the back? It will be quickI promise.”

Moro sighed but allowed him to lead the way, ignoring the craftmaster’s disapproving shake of her head.

Arlen’s mentor was the first to voice her displeasure at herbest apprentice choosing a ‘flat-ear’ over anyone else. Moro herself wassurprised at first despite making the first move, but Arlen had been eager and enamouredwith her from the get-go.

That was something Moro had to remember, she was drawn tohim in the first place for a reason.

“Moro…”

She hated the way he paused, like he was waiting forintervention. To shut him down before he could even speak. So she remainedsilent, urging him by reversing his hold and taking his hands in hers. Itseemed to give him some added bravery,

“Go on.”

“I…I will be joining some of the warriors and crafters tothe nearby town to barter, I think some time apart will do us good.”

“I think you’re right.” Moro says, looking down at hishands. Calloused and rough from his craft in a way her hands would never be, how does such a softy have such hard hands? Shehad joked about that once, it only earned her a blush, although it was neverhard to make the man rosy cheeked. Softy.

“I know you would prefer a hunter…”

“If I preferred a hunter, I would be bonding with Tuelaninstead of you Arlen.” She says it so matter-of-factly but doesn’t feel deterredby how it takes Arlen aback. It was hard not to speak plainly, to soften herwords. “I will not take the next steps with you because I’m not ready Arlen, I’msorry.”

Arlen nods, solemnly, accepting her words. Moro’s smile issmall, but she reaches out cupping his cheek as she presses her lips to cornerof his own.

“I can’t be ready if you don’t come back in one piecehowever, so make sure you do.”

She almost wants to roll her eyes at the way he beams,crushing his mouth against hers, a goodbye of sorts. A small ache in her chest to see him happierthan when she found him this morning.

He tells her he will have her weapons waiting for her by heraravel, the best of his make stands against the small wooden steps. His partinggift.

I will toil and endureJune’s forge till the salt on my brow blinds me.

#morlen #moro lavellan #arlen lavellan #prompts #ridethefrostback #thanks for the prompt Frost <3!

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