#Aeronwen Trevelyan

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 22 18 - Hooded figure

Summary: It’s rescue mission time. Trevy’s heading out on her first Inquisition mission - to rescue captured mages from Ostwick Circle. With any luck, she’ll find who she’s looking for among her fellow Marchers.

---

Another day, another pile of books.

“Can you get these too, Aeronwen? They didn’t help the ambassador much.”

One of Josephine’s aides – she was pretty sure this one’s name was Ana? – had a stack of books in her arms as she approached the desk she had taken on as her on. Lucky for her, she had just cleared a spot for it with reshelving, so she was happy to take it on.

“Not a problem, Ana. I’m sorry it didn’t help her.” She scooped up the books and started to organize them as she spoke. “If you tell me what Ambassador Montilyet needs, maybe I can look around for her and see if I can find anything better.”

After all, she had the library pretty much memorized. It was a weird side-effect of being made Tranquil. Even though they had broken through it, she could still organize with the best of them and keep track of almost anything.

She would have rather had ice magic and control over her emotions, but prisoners of the Chantry didn’t exactly get to be choosers of their fate…

Ana did brighten at least at the suggestion. “Oh, that would be wonderful! I’m completely hopeless in here and I feared I was going to let her down.”

She pulled a list from her pocket, unfolding it. “The ambassador needs something on the legal history between Orlais and Ferelden from the 5th age, and she also asks for anything relating to the noble houses of- “

The aide kept rambling. Trevy nodded, mentally scoping out titles she thought would fit. By the time her guest had time to draw breath, a collection had formed behind her eyelids of promising titles.

Multi-tasking: it was a gift somedays.

“Er, would you like the piece of paper she gave me as a reminder? I did throw a lot at you…” Ana began to offer it up, but Trevy waved it off. “Is something wrong?”

The newly minted mage gave her a smile. “No, I remember everything you requested. If you wait a few minutes, I’ll have everything here for you.”

She left the aide with her jaw on the counter, right next to her books as she headed back to the shelves of books. Anyone but her probably would’ve taken at least ten minutes to find one book, let alone the multiple suggestions. Hell, the entire list might’ve taken an entire day if anyone else had gotten to it.

Lucky for the ambassador, she had her.

“Ah, here’s what she needs.” Trevy pulled an old book, and then another a few shelves away. “I put the other one down here…”

It went like that for five minutes, until her arms were full of books and her mental checklist had been finished. Whistling a happy note, she turned on her heel to return to the desk and hand them off. With any luck, they’d be helpful.

Much to her surprise, Ana wasn’t alone when she returned. There was another woman standing there, wearing the armor of an Inquisition scout that looked as though she had just come in from the field. They were close enough that the mage could pick up their conversation if she was quiet, so she hid behind a stack.

Call it a side-effect from growing up in the Circle, but she was damn good at eavesdropping when she wanted to be.

“Are you sure about that?”

Ana sounded worried as she leaned in to her… well, their body language wasn’t exactly suggesting friendship the more Trevy observed them. Of course, that was none of her business, so she pushed that matter to the side.

The scout nodded, face serious. “Heard it from another scout. They’ve found where the Red Templars are keeping some mages.”

Red Templars: the mere sound of them dropped ice into Trevy’s stomach. She wasn’t exactly fond of Templars on a good day, but their red cousins downright terrified her. How could they not, with jagged points of lyrium growing from their body and their minds being lost to the glowing haze?

She might have hated them… but that was a bit much even for her.

“Goodness, they’re so frightening…” Ana’s voice dropped. “Does the Inquisitor think these mages are important?”

Trevy’s heart skipped a beat as she leaned in. She was close enough to pick up the scout’s words, almost too low to hear. “Not sure… heard rumors they might be from Ostwick Circle. What are a bunch of Marchers doing in Ferelden anyway?”

It took everything in Trevy’s addled body not to throw the books on the ground and storm to the Inquisitor’s chambers. Her heart was racing as she attempted to collect herself to literal avail. All the while, her mind was racing.

Ostwick Circle. Her old home. Where she still had friends, family even. Ian was there. Her fellow Tranquil were there…

They were in Ferelden.

Her fingers clenched tightly around the books she carried as she approached the counter. At the sound of her footsteps, both Ana and the guard turned to face her. Probably because of her less than subtle accent, the aide looked more than a bit uncomfortable.

“We… didn’t upset you, did we, Aeronwen? I know you’re from Ostwick…”

Trevy did her best to write out the receipt for the books in her neat script, mind going a mile a minute. This she tucked into the front cover of the first book and handed over to Ana. Then she looked over towards the scout.

“Has the Inquisitor left for the mission yet?”

The scout shook their head no. “I just told him about it, he’s probably still in chambers with his advisors.”

Good. She had time.

“If you need anything else, please seek another librarian. I think I might be out for a bit.”

Then she ran out of the library at top speed, gunning it for where the Inquisitor met with his advisers. Had she been of sound mind, Trevy would have realized just how ridiculous she was being. After all, she was a librarian. Even when she’d still been an ice mage, she had never been field tested. Her magic was for a classroom, not a battlefield. She would never make it to where they were keeping her fellow mages, much less be of any help.

None of that mattered, though. They were from Ostwick, and she had to help them.

From the looks of things, the meeting was breaking up as she approached. Spymaster Leliana and Seeker Cassandra were already outside, while she could see from the open door that the Inquisitor was still talking to Ambassador Montilyet. They both cocked an eyebrow at her approach, but Trevy didn’t have time to chat. She sped past them, her eyes on the man with the horns.

“The scout’s information looks solid. We can use all the help we can get.”

“Are you going to be handling it yourself, then?”

The conversation stopped as soon as the librarian entered the room. Both Inquisitor Adaar and the ambassador turned to face her. While Lady Montilyet looked surprised, the Inquisition’s leader didn’t. Instead, he motioned her over.

“Trevy, I figured once you heard you’d be stopping by.”

She approached, palms sweating. “Inq…”

A pause as she shook her head. Formality would do her no good here. “Kaaras, you have to let me go on this mission. I have family in that Circle still.”

Even as she spoke, she knew it wasn’t a reasonable request. Even if she was coming back into her magic, she wasn’t exactly field tested. As much as she would hate it, she wouldn’t blame the man if he said no to her request.

The qunari in front of her tapped his chin as he thought about it for a second. Then his violet eyes aimed straight at her. “Do you feel ready? You no doubt know what you could be walking into.”

Kaaras didn’t need to say it – Trevy knew immediately what he was talking about. There was a good chance that everyone she cared about was dead. After all, some of her fellow Tranquil had wound up on poles pointing out shards. For all she knew, that was the fate that had befallen her brethren in Ostwick.

For all she knew, her family could be among the dead…

“Trevy?”

The mage picked up her head. Kaaras had a concerned look on his face – no doubt he was worried he had triggered a Tranquil reaction in her. It was a fair thing to worry about, but this time it wasn’t the cause.

She nodded her head. “I know. But if they’re there, I have to help. Please let me go with them.”

A second passed before the Inquisitor nodded. “Alright, I’ll trust you know your limits. Go see the quartermaster to get your armor, we were putting together a set for you that I think should fit. The healer should have some extra lyrium for you as well. They’re leaving in an hour. Pack for a week at the least.”

And like that, she had her orders. Off to the field she was going with the hopes of rescuing the mages of Ostwick circle. Her mind was spinning as she left the room, closing the door behind her. There was so much to do in an hour…

How the hell did you even pack for a week anyway?

Probably because she was worrying about that, Trevy almost missed a familiar weight settling into her shoulders. It was the soft thump that brought her back to reality, along with a cold, bare toe that brushed against her cheek. She glanced up, unsurprised to see there was someone sitting on her shoulders.

Jackel had arrived.

“So, you’re going with me on the Ostwick thing then?” She nudged the mage in the direction of the quartermaster. “Get your gear and then I’ll show you what to pack.”

Trevy smiled a little as she walked. “Glad I have someone who knows what she’s doing in that regard…”

The elf snorted as she leaned on her friend’s head, barely weighing anything at all. “That’s putting it mildly. Just focus on keeping that staff steady when it gets intense, this isn’t going to be an easy trip.”

Right… they were going to be fighting. That took some of the spring out of Trevy’s step. In her rush to get to where her fellow mages were being held, she had completely forgot that the party would no doubt be facing armed hostility. It was why she needed armor and lyrium – she was going to be filling in as party mage.

Nothing like throwing an untested necromancer into a high stress situation…

“Hey, you can handle it.” Jackel nudged her neck to keep her going. “Just rip their bones out and use them as a club if you lose your staff.”

Something about that made Trevy chuckle as she walked. “It doesn’t exactly work that way…”

“Eh, you could figure out how if you needed it.”

Maybe… but she was going to settle on a conventional staff for the time being. Maybe later, when she had experience, she could consider something with a bit of bone in it. But that was for later, after the mages were safe. Right now, she had to focus on getting ready.

Lucky for her, she had help. After all, nobody could pack and move like the Dalish.

---

Her new armor was still a little stiff, but she was settling into it thanks to the two days of travel she had undertaken.

The small party was in a desolate part of Ferelden, following the last trails of Red Templars spotted by a farmer. With every mile, the land was growing more jagged and hostile looking. To regular people, it was probably just a sign the Blight was still healing. However, every step proved to Trevy that they were getting closer.

That was the thing about red lyrium – it sucked the life out of a place and left nothing but desolation behind.

At the moment, they were resting in a corpse of trees. Trevy had pulled off her boots and was soaking them in a nearby stream. To say her feet hurt was putting it mildly, but thoughts of the Circle helped the pain.

So did the water – damn stuff had to have lyrium in it to feel that good.

She was alone for the moment, Jackel having decided to scout ahead. Thanks to that, she had her staff close as she soaked, allowing her aching feet to rest for just a few minutes. Even on horse, all the walking was wearing her out.

In her defense, she had been in a tower for most of her life. This was probably the most exercise she had ever gotten that didn’t involve twirling a staff in front of an enchanter.

“We should be getting close.” Trevy didn’t need to hear Jackel’s report to know that. When enough mages got together, they created a presence that sunk deep into a person’s bones. It wasn’t as strong as a proper Circle, but she was getting the tingle. They were near to their destination – it was just a question of where.

That came with a weight landing on her shoulder. Even in armor, the elf didn’t weigh that much. She barely moved as the mage moved to dry her feet and slide back into her boots. Break time was over.

“We’re close, aren’t we?”

Jackel nodded as Trevy climbed back onto the Inquisition horse – she settled onto the back as they started up. “We’ll be there in a half hour, hour max. I took out some of the scouts on my way back, should be a straight shot.”

Well… it was almost go time then. A thousand thoughts ran through the mage’s head as she kept her horse as steady as she could. Even though she was technically a noble, this had never been her forte. There wasn’t a lot of chances to ride a horse in the Circle, much less get good at it. She’d call herself passing at best, and that was being generous.

Didn’t matter – it was faster than walking.

They eventually arrived upon the spot, a deep cave carved into the side of the mountain. Trevy’s nose itched from the magic as she tied up the horse a safe distance away. If things got crazy, at least it would be ok.

“Get ready for anything.” Jackel had her weapons drawn, which meant she had to as well. She pulled the staff from her back, feeling as it warmed with her magic. This wasn’t a stock staff – Kaaras had requested one especially for her. Bone dust had been worked into the wood, giving her a boost in power. “We go in 3…2…”

And then they were off. Trevy sprinted past the body of a fallen Red Templar, the close proximity making her blood tingle. This one had been shot with an arrow through the eye – a Dalish arrow. At least they hadn’t seen it coming, which is more than she could have wished for any Templar.

The inside of the cave was dark and water dripped in the distance. It took her a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, and by then she realized Jackel had taken off to deal with any remaining guards. This left her on her own, one mage with a staff and tingling blood.

“I’m coming, everyone.”

She followed the path on the left, realizing that someone had modified the cave to make it more like a holding cell. Wooden doors with thick bars and warding glyphs were set into what had once been open areas. The first few she passed were empty, but one near a fork in the road held a figure that picked up its head as she approached.

“Who…” Trevy’s stomach dropped at the sight of the filthy face and unkempt beard. The man before her wasn’t dressed as a mage, and he was far too muscular for that. Even out of armor, she could smell the lyrium residue from his pores. “Are you… here to rescue the mages?”

Should she be surprised her own brother didn’t recognize her, or be grateful for it?

Instead of answering, she pointed her staff, the end glowing purple. “You must’ve done something bad for your own to lock you behind bars.”

The man – Owain Trevelyan, Ostwick Templar – laughed bitterly, or maybe he coughed before he spoke. “I am no Red Templar. They took me prisoner because I refused to let them take the Tranquil.”

Well, at least he was still focused on duty. It was perhaps his only good point.

She glanced around – there was no gear she could give him. She didn’t have the key either. “How many remain?”

“There are a handful of Tranquil from Ostwick Circle and several mages.” He frowned. “Miss… if you are here to rescue us, I beg you seek a cell further in. They were… a necromancer does not suit their needs. I fear he could be close to dead.”

Ice dropped straight to Trevy’s stomach and she turned away from her brother’s cell and sprinted. Judging from the sounds coming deeper in the cave, Jackel was hard at work. She would leave it to the elf as she ran, using the magic to guide her.

Maybe it was because she had become a necromancer, but she could sense one of her own far easier than other mages. The signature was weak, but it was enough to guide her past empty cells and stalagmites. It led her to a solid looking door, covered in glyphs, set deep into the far wall.

The nice thing about glyphs was that a rock thrown by a skeleton smashed them well enough. As soon as it was destroyed, the lock on the door clicked softy. Trevy then jumped over the mess she had made and threw the door open, not even pausing to gauge her surroundings as she stepped in.

Huddled against the wall, curled up on itself, was a hooded figure. There was no blood or implements of torture in the room, but the glyphs would have been well enough to do what the Red Templars needed. They were shivering too – probably running a high fever.

Tears immediately sprung into Trevy’s eyes as she raced over to them. “Ian, I’m here now. You’re going to be ok.”

The figure shifted, and the hood fell off. Probably due to the isolation, but the man’s hair and beard had grown out to a tangled mess and his cheeks were sunken. Yet there was light in those green eyes as he spotted her, and his jaw all but dropped.

“A-Aery?”

His voice was weak, but it was there. With tears streaming down her face, she scooped her cousin up to carry him out. He barely weighed anything at all, but he held on for dear life as they climbed out of the cell together.

He was alive… she hadn’t failed.

“You… you’re crying.” He touched her face with a dirty, thin hand. “How?”

Trevy smiled through her tears as she started to walk back. “There’s a way to break Tranquility. Call me an unintentional test dummy nobody asked for.”

It was so easy to talk about this with him. Words flowed from her tongue like water. Maybe it was the relief washing over her, or just contact with family she thought she wouldn’t see again. Even with everything wrong in the world, right then things were ok.

“You got your magic…” He frowned. “No… wrong… doesn’t feel like i-“

Then he spotted her staff. “Wait… that’s got bone dust doesn’t it… you… you’re a necromancer too now?”

Before she could answer, motion drew her attention. Jackel had managed to find the mages and was ushering them out. One of them was wheeling an unconscious man out in a wheelbarrow like he was a sack of potatoes.

Owain was out cold. Typical Templar…

“I knocked him out. He was giving me a headache.” Jackel appeared, sheathing her daggers. There was blood on her cheek, but it wasn’t hers. “Found the phylactery room. Chantry’s not getting these guys back.”

She motioned to Ian, still clinging. “That’s him then? He looks like shit. Give him some of this to keep him from passing out on the way back.”

The elf passed over something she had seen her eat on the way – some kind of Dalish energy replenishing substance. Trevy nodded as she handed it to her cousin, watching as he slowly worked towards eating it. He had lost a lot of weight, now that she was paying attention.

That would wake time to heal.

“Thank you.” He swallowed, his voice stronger but still not to where it used to be. “Ian Trevelyan. Aery is my cousin.”

Jackel nodded at this. “Jackel Lavellan. Trevy is my ride out.”

Aeronwen Trevelyan – these two were her friends?

Still, despite the awkward introduction and the long trek back, Trevy felt light as they walked back to the cave entrance. Getting so many people to safety was going to be difficult, even with Inquisition help. But she would make sure of it – they were from her Circle. She owed that much to them.

No doubt when they got back, there’d be plenty of healing required. She would have to keep track of Ian’s weight gain and that he was healing. Someone would have to deal with Owain – hopefully not her. It was going to keep her busy as she walked into the light from the darkness of the cave.

She’d take it. Ian was safe, and so were her fellow Tranquil. That was all she could have asked for.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2023 13 and 14 - Castle and rise

Summary: The necromancers of Skyhold have something of a study circle to discuss ideas and problem solve together. Today's topic: old books and the best way to preserve a body.

---

The nice thing about Skyhold was that it was a castle high in the mountains: it was the perfect place for a mage to study with those of like specializations. The fact the library had private rooms was another boon but getting one could prove difficult given how many mages populated the home of the Inquisition.

Lucky for Aeronwen’s weekly study group… she was the head librarian and thus had a say on who got what. Was it fair, maybe not, but as she was the one running the place, she should get first dibs.  

“I wonder when Dorian and Paulo are going to get here?”

“Not sure, but it should be soon.”

Ian and Aeronwen busied about the room, organizing it, and putting books away from last week’s study. The papers and diagrams from their last bit of work were still laid out on the table, displaying the anatomy of a human man with points marked out in various colors of ink. The orange and violet colors belonged to Ian and Dorian, and they took up much of the free space. Still, there was some pink and green there, mostly in the margins.

She had to hope they would get somewhere with that…

At any rate, the room was soon put right and waiting for the last two members of Skyhold’s only necromancy study group. The books were in place on the shelf, the board was cleaned, and there was plenty of paper for testing out theorems or writing down notes. It was the perfect place to get some work done. All they needed were the other members of their group.

“I got some more of those cookies Paulo liked. He did a great job last week, wanted to reward the kid.” Ian held up a bag, still warm from the kitchen. “Hopefully Pavus doesn’t eat them all. Dude’s got one hell of a sweet tooth.”

Aeronwen giggled as she took them from him and set them on a small table off to the side – no crumbs in the books after all. “You can hardly talk, Ian, you ate a healthy amount too.”

Had his cheeks not been covered in black and white paint, no doubt he would have been bright red. “Yeah, well… ok, I got nothing. You got me dead to rights.”

Of course she did – she was a necromancer. Death was her bread and butter.

He at least offered a shameless grin as he rubbed the back of his head, causing Aeronwen to chuckle again as she shook her head. She couldn’t judge him – they were good cookies. She just hoped they lasted for the whole session.

Figuring out how to raise the dead required a lot of brain work. They needed the energy.

Footsteps drew the two’s attention to the door. Dorian appeared in the entry way, a heavy stack of books in his arms and a teenage boy at his side. Paulo had plenty of books too, almost enough to match the older mage’s stack. Both entered the room and laid their books at their regular spaces.

“Nice to see you two.” Aeronwen smiled as she put the mugs on the table. Today, she had mead for the adults she had brewed herself over the last couple weeks. Paulo wasn’t going to  get to taste her hard work unfortunately, as he was underage. But there was juice for him that should go well with the cookie. “Right, so are we going to pick up from last week’s work?”

Paulo nodded as he pulled out his writing supplies. “Did any new books come to the library that we could use?”

Ian nodded as he flopped into his seat, almost boneless. It was impressive for a necromancer honestly. “Yeah, me and Aery got some old stuff that looks like it came from the Imperium. No idea how it crossed the border, I’m going to guess somebody stole it.”

He picked up a book from the side and handed it to Dorian. “What do you think? Is it legit, or did they steal it?”

Not that it mattered – a book was a book. More importantly, there was no way in hell that Aeronwen was going to attempt to return it to the Tevinter Imperium. Not only was it far and expensive, but there was no way she was sharing. Those books were fascinating from what she had seen.

Biased, maybe? Absolutely – librarians hated giving away good books.

Dorian let out a thoughtful note as he thumbed through the book, eventually letting out a soft chuckle as he stopped at a page. “Oh, this was absolutely stolen. It has the mark of the Carastes Circle library.”

This caused Ian to let out a low whistle. “The fancy pants one?”

They were all fancy pants in Tevinter if Aeronwen remembered right. Unlike her own Circle experience, mages weren’t treated like accidents in the Imperium. Dorian often said their circles were more prestigious academies than mage prisons, so if this book came from there, then it was one the most valuable books in the library.

Thank the Harvester the scouts had found it before it had been wrecked by the rain or fire.

“It is one of the highest, yes.” Dorian’s tone was somewhat clipped as he flipped through the book. “I don’t remember seeing this one when I studied in Carastes. It looks old, perhaps it was taken before any of us were even born.”

He handed the book to Aeronwen. “Though, I leave that to our head librarian. You know books better than anyone, Aeronwen.”

That she did – it was one of her many Tranquil talents. Speaking of – she broke away to pour herself some mead and to give Paulo his juice. Once she had settled in with a mug of her own work, she flipped through the book.

Old pages – well used. That didn’t mean much if it came from an academy library, but the binding was old. If she remembered right, they had stopped using over an age ago because better methods had come across.

Add in the publisher mark from the Storm age… and yeah, it was old.

“It’s at least 300 years old if I’m judging it right.” She closed the book carefully. “Must’ve been taken when the Qunari invaded the Imperium.”

She was going to need to check for ancient vitaar smudges to make sure it wasn’t going to poison any readers that didn’t have horns…

“Well, good to know we’ve got a treasure on our hands.” Dorian got his own mead, blinking as he took a sip. “This isn’t the mead they brew at the Herald’s Rest…”

That made Aeronwen grin as she took a sip of her drink, letting the undertones of berries roll across her tongue. “No, it’s something I’ve been working on since we got here. It was finally ready for me to test on you guys.”

“Books and booze, Aery’s two special interests.” Ian chuckled, clearly pleased. “Sorry you can’t have any, Paulo, she’s a real wizard.”

The boy didn’t look too disappointed as he flipped through his notes. “I can wait. Can we get to the work now? I finished that theory work…”

Right, they were there to study. Because of his words, the adult mages in the room settled down to their materials. It was time to get to work… though where that would take them, they had no clue.

---

“Trevelyan, your theory is absurd. There’s no way it would work.”

“Pavus, I’ve pulled it off before, it works! Just because the Imperium says you can’t do it, doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

Once again, Dorian and Ian were arguing.

Aeronwen shook her head as she turned away from the two arguing whether ground iron could be infused into bones to strengthen them. According to Dorian, the iron would cancel out the magic, while Ian swore he had done it once. Since she hadn’t been there to see it… she was staying out of that one.

But, given she was also from Ostwick… she had to stick by her cousin on this one. Loyalty and all that sense.

“Aeronwen, does this look right to you?”

Paulo drew her attention away from the argument and to the quiet side of the table. Her … well, she supposed he was technically her little brother since the adoption… was working on a theorem he had found in the book they had dug up.

“Huh, let me see…”

She started reading the same page, her brain going into overdrive to translate it into modern common. If she was reading it right, this was a way to summon multiple battle-hardened constructs with nothing more than a mass of jumbled bones and lyrium.

Quite useful for battle, especially if there were plenty of unclaimed corpses laying about due to, say, a war between rebel mages and Templars.

“I think this part needs to be fixed here to account for if there’s lyrium otherwise in the bones.” She marked it with her pen, green ink with the dark pink Paulo preferred. He said it matched his -theirs? – mom’s weapons. “But it looks solid otherwise. The only problem is finding a mass of bones…”

Paulo beamed and noted her corrections. “Yeah, that might be hard. Maybe in villages where they have a graveyard? The bones would all be grouped together so they wouldn’t have problems matching up.”

Aeronwen nodded. “That would make it easier, but it’s so hard to find cemeteries since Andrastians burn their dead.”

“And it’s not worth resurrecting ash, you wind up with rat things because animals got mixed in.” Ian stopped the argument momentarily to look over Paulo’s notes. “Hey, good work by the way! You really tore through that old writing like it was nothing.”

He ruffled the boy’s hair, grinning from ear to ear. As always, Paulo accepted the praise, practically glowing as he looked down at his notes. No doubt that would make him work even harder to finish the theorem.

He would definitely need more than just cookies next week.

“Mom speaking so many languages helped.” He looked over at the argument Dorian and Ian were having. “Also, couldn’t you just counteract the anti-magic of the iron by bonding it to itself to form a plate on top of the bone?”

That made the most stereotypical necromancer in the room laugh out loud as he pumped his fist. “See? Paulo gets where I’m going! High five, buddy, I’ve been trying to get that through his head for a half hour.”

The two adopted brothers high-fived as Dorian groaned and Aeronwen chuckled. She then turned back down to her work, one she was still scratching at. Technically, her specialization lay in controlling flesh constructs rather than just bones. Bones were no problem, but it was when there was meat left that she really shined.

Problem was… she thought it was nasty. And they tended to rot and then smelled really bad. Unlike most necromancers, she didn’t have a strong stomach, so her work was based on making it as palatable as possible.

Some may argue there was nothing palatable about raising the dead… but damn it, she was going to try.

“Still trying to work on keeping the meat on the bone, Aeronwen?” Dorian sounded a little ruffled, but at least he was focused on work instead of his bruised ego. “You look rather frustrated.”

Aeronwen nodded with a sigh as she flipped a page. “Embalming them wouldn’t work because the chemicals involve neutralize magic. I ran some tests last month but it just turned it into a real mess I couldn’t control. I wound up having to bury it because the sisters refused to burn the body.”

Who knew Andrastians were so up in arms about burning embalmed bodies? Maybe it was the source? She hadn’t exactly mentioned the body belonged to a Templar that had tried to kill her in the field, but still.

Then again… they didn’t take burning well when embalmed, so maybe it was for the best.

“Would soaking the body with lyrium help?” Dorian shook his head before Ian could jump in. “No, that would take too much lyrium and we need it for the field mages.”

Yep – there was her problem. Maybe lyrium would work, but there just wasn’t enough to test it without wasting the precious liquid. So she had quickly scratched that one off her list in favor of other ideas.

“I considered mummification, but that’s out too. It takes too long and we don’t have the supplies or techniques from Nevarra.” She sighed. “Besides, those bodies are so stiff and you have to keep up with the bandages. The healers need them more than we do.”

Natural mummification was a crap shoot in the mountains too – it was too wet for that. At best it would freeze, but that would make it weak to fire magic. Red Templars has plenty of fire, so that was out.

Maybe she just had to put up with the smell…

“What if you tried smoking the body?” Paulo sounded hopeful. “I mean… ok maybe I said that weird, but smoking meat preserves it…”

Aeronwen tapped the end of her pen to her chin as she considered it. “It might look a little weird to outsiders, so we would probably have to do it somewhere nobody could come by to see a body over a fire and worry about cannibals… but maybe.”

The question was finding a body… and also finding a spot in the snowy mountains to attempt it. It wasn’t exactly an inside project to say the least…

“It would take a couple days to prepare the body, but if it was fresh it’s worth a shot.” Ian leaned back in his chair. “We just need to make sure no animals come by and try to eat it while we’re working.”

They could probably do that with a few wards…

Before they could put up any other ideas, someone at the edge of the room cleared their throat. All four turned towards the door, where Cassandra was standing. She looked uncomfortable, no doubt having heard their plans.

Non-necros had even weaker stomachs than Aeronwen.

“Can we help you, Cass?” Ian’s tone was flat as he continued leaning back in his chair. “You don’t exactly look like you want to share any Nevarran techniques for mummifying bodies to help us out.”

The Seeker grimaced at that – someone didn’t like moving dead bodies. “The Inquisitor has requested Dorian’s presence in the field…”

She spat the words out – someone also didn’t like being downgraded to a messenger It was well known that the man wasn’t exactly fond of Templars and Templar-adjacent, so maybe he had done it on purpose.

Then again, Kaaras Adaar was a very polite man so… it was a tossup.

“Looks like I’m going to have to cut my portion of this study short.” Dorian sighed as he finished his mug of mead and laid it aside. He also took a cookie – he probably thought he was discrete – as he headed towards the exit and his field mission with the Inquisitor. “Do keep notes on how the body preservation works, I’m curious if it won’t snap the tendons and make movement difficult.”

Yeah… she was going to have to account for that. Maybe tie things up before hand or replace them with something?

At any rate, the study was going to continue. The three remaining mages had a new puzzle on their hands and a lot to plan for their eventual test… like where the hell they were going to find a body.

Maybe Dorian could be nice and bring one back?  It was for the pursuit of the art after all…

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2023 2 - Spiders

Summary: Aeronwen Trevelyan is afraid of spiders. Normally that isn't a problem, but when a new shipment comes in she comes face to face with her fear. Luckily, she has backup.

---

There was nothing like a shipment of fresh books to put Aeronwen Trevelyan in a good mood.

At the moment, she was in the library, surrounded by boxes that held the books rescued by Inquisition scouts from a falling apart mansion somewhere near the border. They hadn’t specified what the books were, or their condition, but just the thought of digging through them brought a spring to her step as she glanced around at her hoard.

Today was going to be a good day.

“Sorry we brought you so much work, Aeronwen. They insisted you would probably want to take a look at these based on where we found them.”

Scout Harding had been in charge of the delivery – she had shown up with the books too. It was always nice to have the dwarf in the library when she wasn’t working on her real job for the Inquisition. Aeronwen was never one to turn down a friendly face, especially if it was hers.

Besides, she had fascinating stories about where she had scouted, and she was always happy to hear them while she worked.

“It’s alright, really.” Aeronwen smiled as she lifted the lid off the first case. The books were old, but none of them looked particularly moldy or decrepit. A bit of dusting, some treatment of worn pages and spines, and they’d be on the shelf in no time. Of course, thoughts of shelving them went to the wayside as she lifted one out of the stack and inspected the cover, bound with an old symbol of the Circle of Magi. “By the Harvester’s scythe, where did you find these?”

It was rare for Circle books to make it out of the towers – the first enchanters were like dragons when it came to their stashes of knowledge. This one, and the others like it stamped with the symbol, looked to have come from somewhere in Nevarra.

Which… well, she always needed more books on Necromancy, if for her own personal study if not for the library’s stash.

“On the border between Ferelden and Orlais.” Scout Harding cocked her eyebrow. “Why? Is something odd about them?”

Aeronwen nodded as she held out the cover. “This came from the circle in Perendale. They must’ve looted it during the Blessed Age.”

She flipped it open – the book sent up dust, but there was nothing worse there. It was a tome on the basics of enchanting magical objects. The sight of it, and the mention of using Tranquil to do so, made her blood run cold. As soon as it was opened, she shut it tight and all but slammed it back.

Of course it had to be about that.

“Are you ok?”

That caused Aeronwen to look up – Scout Harding looked worried, eyebrows knit in concern. She felt her cheeks heat as she glanced away, back to the stack of books that still needed checking out.

It wouldn’t do to lose herself now. She had work to do.

“Bad memories is all. I think I’ll go back to that stack later.” She shook her head, feeling the twinge of pain from the center of her forehead. The brand was treating her better these days, but it still hurt from time to time. It was one of those times, probably brought on by memories of enchanting items in Ostwick.

She was the last person to need a book on the topic – it had been beaten into her.

Still, there was work to be done. With a deep breath, Aeronwen approached the next box and lifted the lid. Immediately, something scuttled out of the box and crawled up her hand. Her eyes widened at the sight of the large spider resting there, and more like it crawling out of the box to freedom.

Her body took over – she screamed and jumped back, slapping the spider to the floor. In a matter of seconds, a bolt of lightning crashed down on it, reducing it to ash. The rest of the spiders were soon smoldering as well, having burst into flames the second she had seen them.

Her mind flashed back – a dark room at the bottom of the tower, where spider webs stretched across the ceiling and tangled in her hair if she got too close. How big those spiders had been, and how large their eyes and teeth. How it had hurt when they bit her in her sleep, or when she got too close, or…

“Aeronwen, calm down!”

Scout Harding’s hands found her shoulders as her mind rushed in a panic. She could still feel the spider crawling up her arm, but there was nothing there. It was just a memory as the offending creature lay smoking on the floor in a pile of ash.

It took Aeronwen a few moments of frantic breathing, eyes shut tight, to calm down. At least she had only set fire to the spiders – there had been a real chance she could’ve burned the whole library down. Luckily, not even the books were singed.

But her heart still raced as she fought to stay in the present.

“I’m… sorry.” She muttered through gritted teeth, eyes still closed. “I can’t stand spiders.”

The dwarf patted her shoulder in a comforting motion. “It’s alright. It did come out of nowhere after all. Maybe I should check the other boxes to make sure there’s no more surprises waiting to say hello.”

“For the sake of the library, it might be for the best.”

Aeronwen took another shaky breath, feeling her heart slowly starting to beat less frantically. With a shaking hand, she took a book from the box. It had some cobwebs on it, but none as thick as the Tower. The spiders must’ve set up on the ride over.

She would need someone to freeze the books later – it would prevent any eggs from hatching.

Still, her face colored as she glanced over at Scout Harding looking through the boxes for any other stowaways. Of all the people to see her at her worst, the dwarf was the last person she would’ve hoped for it to be. No doubt she thought terribly of her now – a grown woman going to pieces over spiders.

She sighed, glancing down at the book. Ironically enough, it was a primer on primal magic. The gods must have been laughing then as she dusted off the cover and put it aside. At least the former apprentices of the Circle would get some use out of it, provided it wasn’t too out of date in practice.

Magic teaching didn’t change much – though whether that was a good thing or not, she wasn’t sure.

“This box is clean, Aeronwen.” Scout Harding’s voice brought her back to the present as she walked over. “Maybe it was just that one that had the spiders in it.”

“I should hope so…” She sighed. “I’ll get Ian to check the others later. He doesn’t…”

She paused. It was hard to explain to outsiders. “He’s better with spiders than I am. He can handle those for me.”

What he couldn’t handle was how stupid Aeronwen felt as she stared down at the box of books. When it came down to it, it was like she was a schoolgirl having done something stupid in front of her crush. Well, that was exactly it to be honest – only she wasn’t a school girl. She was a grown woman who couldn’t talk to the object of her affection outside of work.

And she had just made herself look ridiculous in front of her. Clearly, she was an ace at this romance thing.

“Alright, if you insist.” Scout Harding didn’t leave, though. “Er… maybe you should give the books some time to… you know. Have you had lunch yet? I was about to head down to the great hall and all…”

Aeronwen’s head picked up. “You want me to come with you?”

“Sure, you said you wanted to hear about my last mission, might as well do it over food.” The scout smiled. “And it’ll give some time for stowaways to leave the library so they don’t get flash fried.”

That made the dwarf chuckle, but it wasn’t from mockery. She seemed in good spirits – and surprisingly, Aeronwen found her mood had shifted with just a few words. Her steps felt light as she closed up the box, leaving it for her cousin to handle.

Technically, she was abandoning her post early… but if the Inquisitor wanted the library in one piece, he would understand.

“I should probably get something to eat.” She nodded. “Lead the way, Scout Harding.”

Maybe one day she would be brave enough to ask the woman for her first name. Until then, Scout Harding would have to do. At least she didn’t seem to mind the formality as the two left the library, close enough to make Aeronwen’s heart race for an entirely different reason.

She was no doubt reading into things… but she was a librarian. She could read into whatever she wanted.

“Now, tell me all about Orlais-“

But first, she was going to listen to where the other woman had been over some food. Then… well, she’d figure that out later. Being with the Inquisition was teaching her the fine art of improvisation.

Should she thank the spiders for that one? Maybe not… gods, she hated spiders.

[ramblinganthropologist]

A girl's first corpse

Summary: Aeronwen is still a newbie necromancer. She's about to get a crash course in summoning the dead, but at least she'll get a friend out of it?

---

You know, there were reasons that librarians weren't typically included in field missions, but Aeronwen couldn't remember that at the moment. Was it the fact she was unaccustomed to walking so far, or the fact that her forehead still bore the brand of the burning sun? Who knew... definitely not her.

"You doing ok back there, Princess?"

Varric's voice brought her out of her reverie. She got a chance to look around - they were still in the countryside heading towards a fishing village off the coast of Ferelden. She knew that enough from how the rocks sounded under her feet as she walked. She had read a book on geology once - this was the type of rock common in Ferelden. The dwarves weren't too fond of it - they liked the deeper stuff. It was good for throwing at people though, which is why so many rebel mages had gotten good at throwing it at Templars during the war.

Not that she had thrown any rocks. Tranquil didn't really have much of a free will to toss rocks at their former jailers. It was kind of a disappointment - she had a list she would've liked to take out.

Aeronwen offered him a weak grin as she adjusted the staff on her back. "Just a little sore. I don't usually walk this much back at Skyhold."

Or ever. Oh, the joys of having been confined to the Circle for her entire life.

"No complaining, you asked to sign up." Sera's voice carried from the front. She had been asked to come along because Aeronwen’s preferred rogue was busy with legal stuff for the Inquisition. She would've much preferred to have Jackel there - the Dalish woman was a much nicer tentmate than Sera and didn't spill her things everywhere when they set up for the night.

Could be worse - apparently the elf liked to put lizards in bedrolls. Aeronwen didn't like lizards.

"I wasn't complaining, Sera, just answering Varric." She frowned - Sera had made it clear how she felt about her. So had The Iron Bull for that matter - he was giving her a wide berth as they walked. Logically, she understood why - neither of them liked mages. Dare she say they were afraid of them? It certainly felt that way whenever they looked away from her when she caught their gaze. Then again, she wasn't a typical mage - the brand was proof of that.

She couldn't really help being ex-Tranquil. It hadn't exactly been her choice after all.

"How much further do we need to go, Trevelyan?" Bull's deep bass rumbled from the back. He was deferring to her because technically, this was her mission. The Inquisitor had given it to her after all, partially because her specialization would hopefully prove useful. The real reason she assumed was because there was no other necromancer in Skyhold that was free, so Kaaras had to risk it on her. 

No doubt Cassandra was still chomping at the bit that she didn't get to play mage jailer on the road. It brought joy to her scarred little heart.

It was a fascinating mission in her opinion though. They had gotten an ask for help from a fishing village besieged by what they believed to be Red Templars. Normally, that could've taken anyone, but there was a fun fact that had called Aeronwen to the front of the list. If the reports were to believed, the Templars were hiding out in the caves near the village where the villagers laid their dead to rest.

So, they had asked a necromancer to take the lead.

"I think just another day's trek at the pace we're going will get us there. We'll only have one more night on the road." Aeronwen did her best to hide her relief. It was getting downright uncomfortable to share a tent with Sera. The elf hadn't tried anything, but she made her feelings very well known.

It was kind hard to sleep near someone who was a mix of repulsed and shit terrified of you. Reminded her of her time during the war when the mages had let her tag along so someone could use her skull later...

"Sounds good to me." Varric glanced towards the sky above their heads. It was slowly turning red, indicating that the sun was beginning to set. "Maybe we should set up camp for the night. Only a few of us can see in the dark."

Few of us was code for Aeronwen - as a human she lacked that skill.

But they set up camp, and soon had the fire going. Dinner was a quiet affair, with the mage poking the fire with a stick after she was done eating. Fire had always been fascinating to her, in part because her focus had once been ice. It had made fire painful to be around, but now that her original core was long dead and torn from her, she could get close.

It was her poor attempt at finding a bright side to her condition. It didn't really work, but she had to try her best or she would start crying and that just made everyone uncomfortable.

"Doing some kind of weird spell to see if we can spot the red guys, Trev?"

Sera always asked if she was doing spells. Most times it was in a nervous sort of way, but this one sounded like she might have been joking. Maybe she was finally getting used to her, or the full stomach was putting her in a good mood? Aeronwen didn't know, but she would take what she got.

"Elemental's not really my source anymore, so not really. I just like looking at it." She kept poking her stick. "I think there's a way to scry with fire, but I don't know how to do it. That's more hedge mage stuff, maybe Solas might..."

Aeronwen trailed off as she spotted the glazed over, bored look the elf was giving her. Clearly, she didn't want to know the specifics. That made her cheeks color as she stared back down at the fire. At least when she looked at that, she didn't have to know she was boring people.

"Nah, not mysterious enough for him." Sera's shadow wiggled her fingers at the mention of mysterious. "You've seen him talk shit to the hedgehog, he likes the really old bullshit."

That he did. Not that Aeronwen had ever spoken much to Solas; she got the sense she made him uncomfortable. Whether that was because of her Tranquil background or the fact she was a necromancer, she wasn't sure. To be polite, she gave him a wide berth and only spoke to him when he came to her in the library.

Old habits die hard, she supposed.

"He is a specialist in old magic for sure." Aeronwen nodded at that. "I hope I know as much about necromancy as he does about force magic one day."

Sera made a face. "Ugh, what would that mean?"

Clearly, her tentmate was interested for once. Maybe she was warming up to her after all. At any rate, Aeronwen contemplated it as she poked at the flames.

Truth be told, she wasn't sure. Necromancy was still new to her in many ways compared to her old focus of ice magic. She couldn't tell based on the necromancers she knew - Dorian and her cousin Ian had completely different styles. Ian's necromancy had a playful edge to it, almost mocking death as he embraced it on his face. Meanwhile, Dorian's was far more refined, almost sarcastic at times. Though they shared a specialization, they both wielded it differently.

She had no idea what her own necromancy felt like...

"You zone out on me there, Trev?"

Aeronwen shook her head as she put her stick aside for the moment. "No, I was just thinking about your question. I don't really know my necromancy well enough to guess how mine's going to turn out. I'm not as fancy as Dorian, but I'm not as wild as my cousin. So I can't guess where it's going to go if I'm going off my sample source."

"He does feel fancy." Sera snorted at that - maybe she approved? "As long as you don't bring it round me, I don't care what it turns into."

Fair enough - necromancy could be a little stomach turning. Even Aeronwen was still getting used to it.

"Understandable." She rose, nudging her stick into the fire. Nearby, Varric was heading to the tent he shared with Bull. "I think I should head to bed as well. I'm no good to anyone if I'm half asleep."

It was practically a requirement - let her sleep. Ex-tranquil were unstable after all.

At any rate, Aeronwen soon crawled into the tent she shared with Sera and snuggled into her bedroll. She was so tired she didn't care the elf's things were everywhere, or that her feet hurt and her back was sore from her staff. In that moment, her body screamed for sleep and she was going to answer it. Without much struggle, she fell into a deep sleep before she even realized she was nodding off.

---

The nice thing about the Fade was that things usually didn't hurt.

Aeronwen glanced around, shaking her head as she stood. Silently, she crawled out of the tent, taking her staff with her. Outside, the world was frozen. Bull and Sera sat at the fire, paused mid gesture. It looked a little vulgar, so she shook her head as she passed them by. They would never know she had walked by - that was the nice part about the Fade.

She would've just puttered around, but off in the distance a soft light drew her attention. Curiosity killed the librarian, so she found herself walking towards it. Another nice thing about the Fade was how it sped up travel. Within the blink of an eye, she was at the edge of the village.

It was a small place in the Fade - the boats were tied up at the docks for the night, and no doubt in the real world the waves lapped at their sides slowly. It smelled like fish and salt and wet wood. Strangely, it was comforting as she walked along the silent docks, imagining how the well-worn wooden boards would creak under her feet as she made her way towards the village.

"Are you here with the smelly men?"

A soft voice, like the tinkle of a bell, drew Aeronwen's attention to the edge of the dock. Much to her surprise, there was a girl sitting there swinging her foot in the water. She was looking over her shoulder, damp hair dripping down her dress made of what looked like ripped sails and seaweed. Her skin was a blueish gray, and her eyes were as blue as the sea.

At first, she would've thought she was a ghost of some poor girl who had drowned, but her eyes were all wrong. There was light there, and power to match it. She may have been small, but the girl was some kind of spirit of nature. Maybe she was the village guardian, watching over the fisherman as they plied their trade?

Definitely didn't feel like a demon at any rate.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure who you mean by smelly men."

The girl hopped up from the dock and skipped over to her, trailing sea water in her wake. She came up to the mage's hip, and that close Aeronwen could see the minute scales that made up her skin. In the light, she would probably glitter.

"The smelly red men who spend their time in the chambers of the dead." The girl frowned. "I don't like them... they feel bad. They're not from here and I can't grab them to drown them in the high tide."

Yep, definitely a village protective spirit.

"Can you tell me anything else about them? I think I might be here to help you."

Of course she was technically there to help the village, but the girl was part of that. Besides, she was an early lead on what could be happening. Spirits didn't sleep, and they could go wherever they wanted as long as there was no warding. She would have seen things the living villagers might not have.

The girl nodded, sending sea spray in her wake. "They remind me of the men who spend their time in the smelly house and can't get more. They shake and shiver in the night."

Addicts in withdrawal - Aeronwen had seen it during the war.

"You don't glow red like them, miss." She tugged at her sleeve. "Their eyes are red too. It scares me when I see them... I hide in the tide pools until they're gone."

The mage frowned at that. "No, I'm not taking the stuff they are. They're eating some really bad stuff that makes them even worse than usual."

She knelt down. "Did you see any of them have a mark like a sword on them? It looks something like this."

Aeronwen drew a rough sword of mercy in the dirt with her finger, pausing as she added the lines for the flames. Even though she wasn't Andrastian, she knew it well enough from her years of hiding in the library from the Templars. No doubt it would always be burnt into her memory, just as the sun had been burnt into her forehead when she had been a teenager.

Religious trauma - it was the gift that kept on giving.

The spirit frowned as she studied the image. "I think so... one of them had it on the shiny part on his front."

Right - Templars had it on the front of their armor. Some of the more subtle ones - like Cullen. Ex Templar her ass - wore it on their greaves or as jewelry. Regardless, if they had the mark and they were glowing red, it sounded like they were right on track of finding who they were looking for.

Why they had come to such a small village was beyond her. Maybe one of them grew up here? Or maybe it was the chance to grab a boat and flee - Templars, regardless of their lyrium source, rarely cared about collateral damage. It was one of the many reasons she disliked them.

"Well, then we're here to help you." Aeronwen smiled at the spirit, who showed her impressive set of shark teeth in return. "You said they were in the chambers of the dead? Where might I find them so I can kick them out and let the villagers rest in peace?"

Her impromptu guide pointed towards the edge of the village, where the mage could see a cliff. "There's a cave under that cliff with a path cut into the rocks. The villagers place their dead there until they're ready to come with me back to the sea. I was getting an old man when..."

The girl frowned and looked away. "The bad men make it hard to get inside... the old man's still in there. He wants to come home and I can't get him. Bad things happen to them when I can't get the villagers. The big men are too big to drown, too, so I can't get them out myself."

Ah, so she was a spirit of the village and one of death. Interesting to see the two combined - maybe ancient traditions had mashed the two together and given her a double role. Had Aeronwen had the time, she would have asked about it, but unfortunately she was kind of on a mission.

Maybe later she could ask...

"Well, we'll get them out of there for you." She smiled again. "Then you can go in and get the old man so you can both go back to the sea."

It was nice to see the spirit perk up - her eyes practically glowed. "You mean it? Everyone else is too scared..."

"I was sent here to get them out, you can count on me and my friends." Friends was probably laying it a bit too thick, given she was sure only Varric liked her. But explaining group dynamics to a nature spirit was kind of a waste, so friends it was. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

The girl smiled, once again showing her teeth. "If you see any pretty seashells or rocks on the beach, can you toss them into the tide pool surrounded by coral? The villagers leave me things there and they haven't been able to do that for a while. I like the seashells they toss in!"

Make an offering to the nature spirit - easy enough. Aeronwen nodded as she watched the edges of the world start to fade. She was beginning to wake up, which means it was the end of their conversation. She gave the girl a little wave as her vision went white. The last thing she heard was the rush of waves and a child's laugh. Then there was nothing but the white emptiness.

---

"I've been calling her for five bloody minutes, she isn't waking up. You don't think she's possessed or something, do you?"

"Mages always take time to come back from the Fade, she's probably going to come around soon. Besides, I'm pretty sure she said demons didn't like her because she was Tranquil."

"That's not exactly comforting, Varric."

The sound of familiar voices was the first thing that came to Aeronwen as her senses returned. Her eyes opened slowly as she started to sit up, yawning. One of the voices belonged to Sera, who all but jumped back from the sudden movement. Varric, at the opening of the tent, had to resist the urge to laugh. Judging by the fact he was standing in shadow, Bull must've been nearby checking on what was going on.

Whoops. Looks like she overslept.

"Sorry, it took me a while to get back from the Fade." She rubbed her eye to dislodge the sleep gunk. "I was talking with the spirit of the village about our targets."

Unsurprisingly, that went over like a brick in water. Sera looked suspicious to say the least, and there was a flash of doubt in Varric's eyes. Judging by the fact the dwarf got a bit of sun, Bull had changed position. All Aeronwen could do was contemplate why they had sent her with this party in particular as she shook her head and stretched.

"Just a reminder, demons don't want me because of the brand." She started to gather her things. "And I didn't get a demon vibe from her anyway. She was pretty helpful, showed me where we need to go. Turns out we've got some Red Templars in withdrawal in the caverns the village puts their dead in."

Outside, there was sun - perfect weather for possible necromancy. And if they were lucky, it would stay that way until they got to the village and found their problem Templars.

---

By the time the sun had stretched across the sky, the group was making their way down the path that would take them to the watery gravesite.

The village they had passed through to get there looked just like it had in her dream, only it was noisier and the people were awake. They didn't say much, just looked with fearful eyes as they made their way through. Aeronwen would have thought they would ask how they knew about the path, but she had decided against asking. Fear did things to people, especially when a mage was asking questions they didn't want to answer.

"Why are they putting their dead in a cave anyway? Shouldn't they be burning them like everyone else?"

Sera didn't sound convinced as she climbed down in front of the group. Aeronwen and Varric were in the middle, while Bull brought up the back. It was quite a motley crew - no wonder the villagers hadn't said anything when they had passed through. Small villages didn't like foreign folk, especially if they weren't human.

Her being a mage hadn't exactly helped either...

Aeronwen used her staff for balance as she sought her way down the cliff. "This area probably was never strongly influenced by Andrastianism. No doubt they kept their old gods and old methods of burial. It makes sense - those who live by the sea want to go in it when they die, like their ancestors before them."

She could respect that. Burning the dead had never sat right with her when she had sat in Chantry class at the Circle. She had attended more than one Andrastian funeral there too - you never forgot the smell. Maybe it was a sign she was meant to be a necromancer that it made her kind of hungry...

Was that wrong? Probably... ugh.

"So we're going into some caves crawling with generations of dead people." Bull didn't sound excited by that. He never was when it came to dead stuff. "Are you going to be able to keep it in control, Trevelyan?"

Aeronwen responded by holding up her wrist, where the warding charm sat. It helped siphon off some accidental magic should it occur. Most mages didn't need them past the age of puberty, but she was... a special case to say the least. She had one on each wrist just in case.

"These should make sure I don't accidentally summon someone's grandpa if I get scared." She shrugged. "Besides, these aren't the final resting places. Once the body decomposes enough, it's washed out to sea. I think that's when the spirit girl takes their spirit back to the sea and... well she didn't tell me what happened after. Maybe they all just stay in the sea until reincarnation?"

She should've asked about that...

Speaking of the spirit girl, her tidal pool came into view as they touched the bottom. It was a pretty thing, dark blue and ringed with various colors of coral. She could see rocks and seashells at the bottom, left there by villagers probably during the funeral. Someone had even put a little doll there - something for her to play with perhaps.

Hopefully she found a nice shell for her. It was polite to give tribute to the dead of the land when passing through.

"You make it sound poetic, Princess." Varric almost chuckled, but then he nearly slipped. Luckily, she was able to extend her staff to keep him from face planting in the wet gravel. "Ugh, thanks. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate cliffs?"

And forests, and caves and... well, all natural things. It was why they got along so well.

“Be careful, the spirit will take you if you die and I don’t know how dwarves feel about being washed out to sea.” Aeronwen helped him back on his feet with her staff. “I’m not about to fight a spirit over it, to be honest.”

That would be a nasty fight, even outside of the Fade. She liked Varric but… no thanks.

“I don’t blame you, Princess, spirits aren’t exactly easy to beat. Remind me to tell you about Justice one day.”

Ooh, spirit talk. Nice – she could hardly wait.

With that, they continued towards the entrance to the grave site. Here, the villagers had also left their mark. There were doused candles melted on the rocks and sea grass braided into ropes to guide the way should it be dark when it came time to give their dead to the sea. It was all leading to the mouth of the cave, carved by the sea and human hands in letters she couldn’t read.

She had to wonder if the villagers knew just how old their burial site was – those were more than a few ages old.

Inside, it was dark and wet. Aeronwen produced light at the end of her staff to help her and Bull see – Sera and Varric were lucky enough to have dark vision. It was surprisingly clean inside, given the sea washed in at high tide.

It also had a body sitting in the center niche. It was a decently sized thing, so at least whoever it was had been an adult. Someone had laid trinkets near the body – a fishing lure, an old pipe, and a piece of coral. Whether they were grave goods or gifts for the spirits, she wasn’t sure. But it was a body, and she knew that much.

Aeronwen approached the corpse, hand outstretched. Her fingers brushed the cloth, and, in that moment, she knew the man who lay there. He was a fisherman, the crotchety sort who spent time staring at the sea and going against the waves in his little boat. He had died in his sleep after a long day of fishing – his bad leg would trouble him no more.

“She’ll be coming for you soon, I promise.”

She wasn’t sure why she whispered it to a corpse clearly rotting and beyond hearing her, but it felt right. The mage gave the bundle a small pat as she stepped back, feeling the last of the energy dissipate from her fingers.

Behind her, Sera groaned. “Is she going to do that for every corpse in here? It’s all gross and rotted.”

Yes, that was kind of the point of a sea burial…

Still, Aeronwen just shook her head and kept going. There was a pathway cut into the far wall that looked not as old as the rest. No doubt more prominent members of the village had decided being fish food for the sea spirits wasn’t ideal and they had erected something deeper. Here there would be dusty corpses, away from the lure of the sea.

So much for believing in the sea gods…

At any rate, they walked down the path. It sloped downwards, going deeper in. The smells became less salt and sea and more dust and time – typical for a grave site. With any luck, their templar targets would be at the bottom.

Bull had to duck to keep his horns from burying into the rocks. He grumbled, rubbing his sore shoulder. “Don’t see how the sea could reach the dead here.”

“They wouldn’t. This area is for those who decided against the traditional burial and had the money to do so.” Aeronwen held her staff a little higher to help him see. “Doubt the sea spirits are happy about that, honestly.”

“Leave it to rich bastards to think they’re too good for their own type of burial.” Sera’s voice was thick with scorn – she might not have believed in a sea burial, but she definitely hated people who did stuff like that. “Can’t believe they’re even out here.”

Varric had his hand to the wall, so he didn’t take a tumble down stairs more designed for human legs than his own. “You’ll find them everywhere, even here.”

And hopefully, the sea gods would find them too… she didn’t like when people didn’t follow proper burial rights.

The talk died after that, mostly because they were all focused on getting down the rough stairs without dying. Eventually, they touched down at the bottom. Here, there were a few coffins marked with stone lids. A few had been cracked – grave robbers, no doubt. She could see a leg bone poking out – it looked old.

“Oi, Trev, don’t even think about taking it.” Sera snickered at the sight. “I see you eyeing it.”

Aeronwen blushed as she turned away. “I was just trying to figure out when the lid was smashed. Either our Templars broke it, or they’ve got a looting problem.”

The elf still snickered, thinking she had scored a point. It was time to ignore her in favor of focusing on the energy of the crypt they were standing in. They were simple coffins - probably later members of the family who weren't as important. The carvings on the lids still held definition, so these were the most recent. If she knew anything about Templars coming down from lyrium withdrawal, they would've gone further in to seek quiet from the pounding migraines of addiction.

That, and hide whatever they were planning.

"I don't know if I'm going to fit through that." Bull's voice was flat as he pointed to the door at the far end. "Looks like it's going to be a tight squeeze for you too, Trevelyan."

Ah, the joys of being over 6 feet tall.  Aeronwen felt sweat trickle down her neck as she approached the door. Bull was right - it would be a tight squeeze for her, but it wasn't impossible. She would just have to stoop down and hope for the best. Him, on the other hand? No way in hell they were getting him in. Even if they got him down on his bad knee and made him crawl, his horns wouldn't get through the door.

"Keep watch out here for anything that might come down." She waved her staff and allowed a globe of mage light to hover by him. Thanks to that, it was easy to see his shoulders slump in relief. "Don't worry, I wouldn't leave you in the dark."

"Thanks, Trevelyan. I'll post up here."

After that, the three left him there as they went through the door. It was dark, and a little damp. Water dripped on Aeronwen's head and shoulder as she made her way through, staff out to allow her to see. Behind her, Sera and Varric had their weapons drawn in case they found something.

The room on the other side had more coffins, broken open to show they had been looted. Whoever had done it was wearing some form of armor - there were scrapes from greaves and breastplates. Most thieves didn't wear plate armor, so that definitely narrowed things down.

"Guess they're looting to get money for lyrium." Sera prodded a broken lid. "Bastards must be strung out."

"Oh, great, twitchy Templars in closed quarters." Varric sounded oh-so enthused as he turned to Aeronwen. "You take us to the best places, Princess."

Aeronwen would've answered, but the sounds of an argument in the distance made her shut her mouth and crane her ears. It was a bunch of men based on how deep they sounded, and their voices were slightly slurred. These were men deep into their addiction, and she had an idea what their substance of choice is.

"... it's mine... not... up."

Then there was a strangled noise and the sound of something hard hitting a far off wall. The argument died down from that. Aeronwen's stomach churned as she flashed through the possibilities. It was very likely one of them had just been killed... it made things easier for sure, but it still made her nervous.

"Great, they took one out for us." Sera drew her bow. "Well, you're leading this, Trev. We going in bows blazing or what?"

She shook her head. "Go in slow, we don't know what kind of energy they have."

So they crept along, seeing light at the end of the tunnel. It opened to what was probably the oldest of the tomb area, based on how faded the carvings were and how elaborate their coffins were. These lids were also shattered, their bones smashed to collect whatever could be found there. There were two men standing there, staring down at the floor where a third lay there motionless. Their bodies were tense, probably because of the red shards erupting from their skin and dented armor.

They were shivering, and it wasn't from the cold.

"Damn it, he didn't have any on him." The bigger one kicked the corpse on the ground. "Bastard must've used it all up."

The smaller one spit something glowing to the side. "We almost have enough to get more. Might as well leave him here to rot with the corpses and get moving."

The two shared a harsh laugh, then turned to pick up their bags of looted goods. It was then Aeronwen hid, pressing against the wall as hard as she could. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck as she felt her heart began to race. Of course now of all times the sight of Templars would drive her to panic... so much for her training.

Who knew trauma came out at the worst times?

"I think I saw something." The little one prodded his friend. "Go check it out."

The larger man scowled as he dropped his bag with a heavy clatter. "Don't see why I've got to do it."

"Because you have your sword still." The small man scowled back. "Just go check it out. Might be one of those damn villagers coming to visit grandpa."

The sound of footsteps began to come closer. Aeronwen's eyes widened as she slapped her free hand over her mouth so she wouldn't yelp. Her mind was going wild, and rational thought was gone as the Templar approached.

No, no, no... not a Templar. She needed help... somebody help and stop them.

"What the fuck?"

The small man's voice rose over the pounding of her heart and stopped his companion from finding her. A strangled scream rang out through the crypt, and then a wet sound followed. This made the large Templar turn tail and run towards the noise, allowing her to catch her breath.

"Holy shit, how-"

Another scream, then a thud. The air grew quiet after that, and soon a dragging sound of footsteps began to approach. Aeronwen's heart leapt to her throat as she readied her staff with sweaty hands, expecting the worse. Her panic was still there, but she could at least think.

A man appeared at the front of the entrance. They were wearing Templar armor and carrying a greatsword in one hand. The side of their head was dented in, almost like they had been hit there. One eye was closed, and the other was glowing a light purple. Strangely, they didn't have shards of red - they were just a Templar.

A dead Templar.

"Stay back!" Aeronwen held out her staff. "I-..."

She stopped. The Templar took a step back, and then they put their sword on their back. Their motions were jerky, slow - like they weren't in full control. Then blood dribbled from their mouth as they dropped to the ground in a heap that no living human would be able to pull off without broken bones.

"What the fuck?"

Sera peered over Aeronwen's shoulder. "He just... fucking dropped dead."

Varric was soon there too, Bianca at the ready. "I think that was the one they killed, look at his head. Nobody could survive a blow like that."

But then... how did he get there?

Aeronwen frowned as she approached the corpse, fear replaced with curiosity. She prodded an arm with the end of her staff and got a shiver of energy across her skin. The man's dead eye found her, and they slowly rose to their feet with shaky movements. Apart from that, they just stood there, waiting...

Waiting for her to give them an order.

"Are..." She swallowed. "You're a construct now, aren't you?"

She had read about that in books back at Skyhold. Sometimes, if enough magic was imbued into a corpse, they became a permanent summon of an individual necromancer. Usually they could be told by the purple glow in their eyes and their utter obedience to the caster's requests.

They had the eyes, they had the orders...

"Wait, you're doing this?" Varric sounded as surprised as she was. "But you didn't cast any spells."

Aeronwen nodded shakily as she walked around her construct, inspecting them. She could feel her magic radiating off them in waves, the surest sign that they were under her control. Eventually, she wound up face to face with the dead Templar, blood still trickling from their mouth as they stood there with dead eyes.

"I think... I did it by accident when I was scared." She winced as she held out her wrist - the charm was broken. "I was so afraid of the Templar my panic must've caused this to break. I remember asking for help... he was so newly dead that it was an easy call to get him standing."

Sera eyed the broken charm with disgust. "Thought you weren't supposed to have accidents with those."

"Apparently, my fear of Templars overcomes even the strongest wards." Aeronwen's voice was flat as she glanced past her construct into the room. The other two Templars were dead, practically sliced in half from their dead companion's blade. "And it looks like they killed them for us."

Well... that had worked out well?

"Guess they did us a favor." Varric was giving the corpse a wide berth. "What are you going to do with them? It be easy to leave them with the others..."

It would be easy... but it wasn't like this was a regular walking corpse. If they were truly a construct, they were going to seek her out until she permanently severed the bond. Until then, they were under her control. She had officially tied them together without even meaning to do it.

So... shit.

"He's coming with us." The two let out a strangled noise, and Aeronwen sighed. "I know, I wasn't planning on it... but he's a construct. Better he comes with us than scare the villagers by lumbering around."

She glanced around - there was a cloth covering one of the coffins. She grabbed it and tied it around the constructs shoulders, using the material to hide their face. Her magic would keep them from rotting, but she would take care of that permanently when she got back to Skyhold.

Maybe her cousin could lend her a few chemicals to break the flesh down... or she could bury them and wait. Chemicals sounded better honestly, but they might interact with the lyrium...

"It's going to smell, Trev!" Sera sounded incredulous. "I get you necros want to play with a neat corpse, but it's going to fall apart!"

Varric nodded at that. "We would stand out having a rotting corpse following us, Princess. Might be best to let him rest."

Aeronwen shook her head as the construct followed her. "He won't start rotting until we get back to Skyhold. Once we're back, I'll start cleansing the lyrium from his body and working on defleshing him. I think he'll hold up better as a skeleton, and he'll be easier to store when I'm not summoning him..."

She trailed off. The two had a less than comfortable look on their faces, probably because she had begun to talk shop. Her cheeks colored as she glanced back to her new friend. He had no idea what was coming for him, but with luck and help from Dorian and Ian she could pull it off.

Maybe it be better not to tell the Inquisitor about this one...

"Anyway, he's coming with us." Aeronwen started to leave the tomb. She had a seashell to find for her friend, and then a story to concoct for Bull to explain their new party member. With any luck, they'd get back to Skyhold without anything falling off. She could put it back on, but still...

This was definitely not how she had seen the mission ending. But at least she had gotten something interesting out of it. Maybe she could use her friend in the library once she got him down to clean bone...

Yep... she was definitely one of those weird necromancers now. Oh well.

[ramblinganthropologist]

I decided Trevy has a dedicated human construct she summons in battle after accidentally bonding to them during a fight. Until she knows their name, she calls them Ser Esgyrn (Ser Bones). Eventually, she finds out that in life, his name was Cathal Mac Ruaidh, a Starkhaven templar.

It makes Cullen uncomfortable. She does not give a single, solitary fuck what he thinks. If Cathal has problems with it though, that she’ll care about.  But until then... Ser Bones helps in the library.

It keeps the Templars out.

[ramblinganthropologist]

And to go with Ian’s before and after, here’s Trevy’s beginning of Inquisition/end of Trespasser shots.

Yeah, breaking Tranquility turned her hair white for a while. Luckily it grew back in her natural color because she really wasn’t feeling the white. Too pale for her tastes honestly. At least she can hide the brand with her bangs. Cute AND functional.

She’s the cutest necromancer at Skyhold, guys. You want to talk to her, go find her in the library. She’s running the joint.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 22 - 26 (Pumpkin)

Summary: It’s time for the Inquisition Halloween party, and Jackel has her eye on the crowd. Will she take home best solo costume... or will she stab the nerd who was dumb enough to dress as Harry Potter in 9:40 Dragon? Regardless... Trevy and Ian have this one in the bag for the pair costume. How could they not - they do bones.

---

The best part about Halloween parties was that nobody was watching the candy.

Jackel had probably stored half her weight in candy, and thanks to her costume she had room for plenty more. When it came to choosing what to wear, proper storage was always a must. She wouldn’t be caught dead being unable to carry as much as she could.

Plus, nobody ever expected the moving pumpkin to stab them if it came down to it.

Right then, she had situated herself a healthy distance from the snacks, high up in the rafters in order to watch the goings on. Most of the Inquisition had decided to attend, wearing a variety of costumes that ranged from boring to ‘at least you tried’ in her mind. What could she say, she was a picky person.

“Next year Kaas needs to put requirements down or something. I’ve seen way too many knights.” She rolled her eyes as she grabbed a piece of candy and popped it into her mouth without even so much as crinkling the wrapper to alert that she was there. Though she doubted the humans on the ground could hear her, it was the principle of the thing. She was an assassin – nobody was supposed to know she was there.

“Nobody ever said Templars were creative, Jack.”

The elf cocked her eyebrow. She honestly hadn’t expected anyone to answer her due to the whole hiding in the rafters thing. Yet there was no denying a familiar voice was chatting with her from close by.

“Trevy?” She craned her neck. “Did you finish your costume?”

She had to admit, curiosity had gotten the better of her. The mage had been rather secretive about her costume choice, squirreling it away whenever anyone asked. Clearly, someone was gunning to win the costume contest. Given how much candy the winner got, Jackel could respect that.

More importantly, she wanted to see.

“Yeah, I’m coming over. Ian’s already downstairs anyway. He got away from me while I was finishing up my makeup.”

Her voice was coming from the stairs. The elf craned her neck, trying to spot her friend. Possibilities ran through her mind – a fairy princess, maybe? She could definitely imagine flowy fabric, maybe wings and a shit ton of glitter that would take ages and multiple showers to remove. Trevy was pretty femme when it came down to aesthetic choices, and pink was her favorite color. The two seemed to go together.

However… reality was a different story.

Jackel blinked at the sight of the woman standing in front of her. Trevy had swapped her dresses for tight black pants and a shirt, showing off her rather impressive muscles. She had a fake sword strapped to her back, and her face was painted like a skull. Add in the messily styled red wig and ridiculously anime sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose, and there was really only one person she could have been.

“You didn’t tell me you were going as Gideon!”

The mage chuckled as she leaned on the railing. “Yeah, I wanted it to be a surprise. Do I look ok?”

“You look ready to kick some necromancer ass.” Jackel leapt from her spot on the rafters to land on her friend’s shoulders. “Nice job on the wig by the way, definitely looks real.”

Red was a decent color on her honestly. Brown was better, but it was a look alright.

Trevy chuckled at that – only natural, considering she was a necromancer. “Thanks, Ian helped me. You should see him, though!”

She pointed, and Jackel’s eyes followed her finger down to the floor below. In one of the corners, she spotted Krem chatting with someone. Bull’s right hand was dressed as a pirate – most of the Chargers were. They weren’t creative unfortunately, but it was one hell of a theme. If she had to guess, he was the first mate, but her attention was drawn to the one next to him.

“Is Ian wearing fake tits?”

The other necromancer was also dressed in black, face painted in a different skull design than his usual affair. His enhanced chest was cradled by bones – possibly real ones, knowing him – and his black wig hung into his face. It was a miracle he wasn’t getting paint on it, but as everyone knew he was the master of sealing his makeup.

Trevy chuckled as she nodded. “He wanted to commit to being Harrow. I told him he would’ve been fine without them, but you know him. If he’s going to pull up skeleton hands, he wants to make sure they’ve got something to grasp.”

She smiled. “Think we got a chance at the pair contest?”

Based on what she had seen from the rafters… yeah, they were going to knock it out of the park.

“Unless the chargers all participate, I think you’ve got it in the bag.” Jackel noticed Josephine approaching the stage. “Up, better get your necromancer. Time for the Ninth House to represent.”

With that, she jumped off the mage’s shoulders and took up a spot on the railing. She watched Trevy approach her cousin, and the two high fived. Then they headed towards where the groups were gathering.

Lucky them – the Chargers were sitting it out.

Honestly, the pair competition was pretty disappointing. Jackel had a love-hate with couple costumes, and most of them were piss poor. She especially booed at the Bella and Edward duo of Inquisition scouts – get better fucking taste, nerds – but then her attention was drawn. The mood had shifted.

“Next up, we have… Aeronwen and Ian Trevelyan!”

Trevy and Ian approached the stage, the smaller necromancer taking it first. The air hummed with power as he summoned his bones, allowing them to glow in front of him. Then he turned towards his partner, nodding his head.

“Nav, show them what the Ninth House does!”

The prop sword slid from its sheath as Trevy took her position, pushing up her sunglasses with practiced ease as she moved. With an uncharacteristically cocky grin spread across her face, she held out the sword to the crowd, the tip glowing with dark energy.

“We do bones, motherfucker!”

Then she swung down, taking the same fighting pose Jackel had seen Owain attempting in the courtyard when he wasn’t cleaning horse shit. Both figures on stage were smirking now, fully committed to their roles of cavalier and necromancer.

Naturally, the crowd fucking lost their shit. After all, it’s not every day you hear the head librarian say motherfucker.

It took some time for the audience to calm down, but eventually Ian and Trevy accepted their applause with broad grins. Then the bones went away, as did the sword as they left the stage for the next pair to appear.

Jackel found the necromancer first, climbing onto her shoulder. “Did you steal those moves off shit brain?”

Trevy giggled as she put her sunglasses away – probably because humans couldn’t see in a regular room with them on. Thanks to that, the elf realized she had also gotten colored contacts to complete the look. “I watched him and Blackwell in the training yard. Would’ve used Krem, but somebody kept distracting him when I wanted to study.”

Ian whistled an innocent note as he looked away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Aery.”

Sure, he didn’t… and Jackel was a dwarf.

Still, it was clear they didn’t have much competition in the pair group. As a matter of fact, the folks after them looked downright intimidated by their display. Maybe that came with using actual necromancy… but all was fair in love, war, and costume contests in her personal opinion.

“Could sign ups for the individual group please approach the stage? We’ll be starting soon!”

Josephine’s voice carried over the crowd of excited partygoers, prompting Jackel to pick up her head. For once, she climbed off Trevy’s shoulders and approached the group waiting to get on stage. Amid the zombies, video game characters, and someone lame enough to be Harry fucking Potter, she stood out for sure.

Good. She was in the mood to win.

Because of that, she didn’t wait for her turn. As soon as Josephine took the stage, dressed as a fairytale princess no less, Jackel hopped up and held out her hand. Wordlessly, the ambassador handed over the mic, almost as if she expected it.

Turning on her heel, Jackel faced the crowd and remarked in a deadpan, roundabout way. “I’m a Jackel Lantern.”

Then she dropped the mic back into Josephine’s hand as a round of laughter broke out among the crowd. It was easy to pick out Trevy’s mirth from the rest, especially because the mage was doubled over and laughing so hard she was probably going to hurt something.

“Just making sure, this isn’t a side-effect is it? Do I gotta get a healer or something?”

The mage shook her head, still giggling. “N-no, I- “

Ian finished for her, shaking his head as he watched her lean against a nearby wall. “Aery has always been a sucker for dumb puns.”

There was a begrudging admiration in his tone, though, so Jackel could only nod. With any luck, there would be other dumb pun appreciators in the crowd, enough that she could swing the vote away from the fucking nerd dressed as Harry Potter.

Seriously, who the fuck dressed as Harry Potter in 9:40 and why was it always someone who used to be a Templar that had such terrible taste?

“I am a connoisseur of puns, thank you very much.” Trevy straightened, wiping her eyes. She must have used the same makeup Ian did for his regular paint because none of the skull wiped off in the process. “And I think you should win. You were the best one.”

With such a ringing endorsement, Jackel couldn’t help but feel satisfied as she climbed back up onto her friend’s shoulders to watch the competition. In the end, it didn’t matter – she was going to steal the candy no matter who won. But at least she had gotten some laughs out of it.

More importantly, she was at the perfect height to intimidate people into voting for her friends. After all, she could multitask. With any luck, they’d be taking home the crown and enough candy for the three of them.

Intimidation and sweets – truly, Halloween was her favorite holiday. Now, if only she could work some assassinations into it…

Too bad she was committed to being a Jackel Lantern, otherwise she’d totally go for Assassin’s Creed next year. It be easier to stab people.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 22  - 2 and 3 (Cold and Death)

Dragon Age Inquisition

Summary: Unsurprisingly, coming back from Tranquility isn’t easy. Trevy is finding that one out the hard way. It looks like the Chantry took more from her than she thought, and there are things she’ll probably never get back. But if she can’t go back... maybe she can go ahead.

Time to pick a specialization, Trevy. You better get a strong stomach and quick.

(Tw: mentions of tranquility, nothing extreme)

---

Some days, Trevy wished she had appreciated not being able to feel the cold. Oh well, hindsight was 20-20.

The mage shivered as she drew her cloak closer, trying to cover the few bits of vulnerable skin that peeked through her defenses. In Haven, it didn’t matter how well you covered, though – the wind would rip through even the staunchest defenses, chilling those caught outside right down to the bone as they made their way from post to post in the hopes of not freezing where they stood.

It was a miserable place, all things considered – but at least they were miserable together. Templars, mages, and everyone in between hated the cold just the same as the person next to them as they tried to avoid breaking an ankle on the ice on their way to the tavern after duty. Some might consider it the great equalizer – she didn’t. She couldn’t, not after what her former jailers had done to her.

Speaking of – the brand on her forehead throbbed underneath its thick layer of bandages. Trevy’s eyes watered and she slapped a gloved hand to the surface on instinct. That only made it hurt worse, and soon the tears were trickling down her face, bringing more with every second. A sob threatened to work its way through her throat, but she bit it down as she rushed along to where she had been heading.

Ever since she had been released from Tranquility, it hurt. It hurt a lot. Maybe that was to be her reminder of what they had done to her, something to keep her from getting complacent around the soggy forms of the Templars huddled around the fires for warmth. Even if her mind tried to forget, her body sure wouldn’t.

Neither would her new vulnerability to the cold.

“It took you long enough to get here, Trevelyan.” The woman waiting for her at the door to the practice building worn a stern look and the robes of a former teacher. She had probably seen countless mage apprentices late to lessons – what was one more? “Oh, Maker, were you crying again?”

Trevy sniffed as she used the sleeve of her robe to wipe her eyes before the tears froze. “Can’t help it… it started hurting again.”

No doubt if there had been mages in the room, they would’ve been looking away at this point. After all, no mage likes a reminder of what they so easily could have become if they had taken one wrong step during their time in the tower. She had been as much a worker as a stark reminder of the penalties that awaited circle mages if they so much as put a toe out of line. The Templar that had watched over the Ostwick Tranquil had once called them the great deterrents, though it had been lost of her then.

That Templar and her fellow Tranquil were also lost now – buried in the explosion that took out the tower, or among the countless dead from the war. It was only for the former mages that she gave quiet prayer to a god she would love to spit at – the rest got a curse from the depths of her marked soul.

But at any rate, it was because of her reactions and just how uncomfortable she made mages that her training was a strictly one-on-one affair. She hadn’t requested it of course – they had. Something about a former Tranquil with a staff made people nervous. It made her laugh, though not too hard. If they were worried, how did they think she felt about the whole thing? As far as she knew, she was the only one to come back from the other side and be able to tell the tale. Call her a test dummy, call her fated, whatever it was… it was weird.

And it hurt. Had she mentioned that yet?

“Well, when it calms down you can take up your staff. I asked around, and they said before you…” the woman couldn’t say it. No one in robes could – it stuck in their throats and refused to escape. In the end, she shook her head. “Anyway, an Ostwick mage said you used to be an ice mage. I want to see if you can still do it.”

Trevy hung up her cloak on the wall and made a grab for her staff. Well, it wasn’t her staff if she was being honest. Instead, it was just a stock tool that they gave to apprentices before they figured out their specializations. She had enchanted plenty of them during her time under the brand, to the point she knew every angle of the smooth wood under her hand as she rolled it. Nothing special about it, but it let the caster figure out what they could do.

It was time for her to go from crafter to caster… no pressure.

Her teacher cleared to the side of the room, giving her space. Trevy was now all alone in the center, holding her borrowed staff and praying for a miracle. Logically, she knew the steps to summon ice. Back before the brand, she had almost been a primal prodigy, summoning ice since she was in the single digits. It had been one of the first spells she had ever figured out as a child, practically part of her muscle memory.

It should have been easy, effortless. However, sweat trickled down her brow as she faced the practice target. Her fingers rolled down the staff as she took a deep breath, closing her eyes to search for the path to her mana supplies.

Back in the day, it had been a path of glittering ice, rock hard and shining in an unseen light. As she walked along it, it had tinkled under her feet and summoned snowflakes with every step. Then there was the heart – a giant crystal of pure ice, so thick none could break it.

Yet… nothing was there but darkness. The ground was rocky and dark, with deep score marks that she could have fallen into. The light was gone, there was no snow to greet her, and her feet cracked along the ground.

And at the heart? Nothing but a gaping hole where her crystal had once been, scarred with the brand of the sun.

Her eyes snapped open and she dropped the staff. Sweat was pouring down her forehead as she backed away, breaking into a run. She barely remembered to grab for her cloak, haphazardly pulling it on as the teacher called for her to get back there. However, Trevy ignored it as she ran out of the building and down the road that would take her away from Haven.

Her feet took her to the nearby woods, where most people wouldn’t have gone during the cold weather. She eventually collapsed on a tree stump, tears streaming down her face. No matter how she tried to forget, the sight of the barren, scorched earth marked by the sign of the chantry would never leave her.

There was no use trying ice magic ever again. It had been burnt away by the brand in a desire to keep her in line.

Trevy’s tears trickled into the snow as she sobbed, body shaking. Before that moment, she’d had some hope that perhaps her magic would return to her with time and practice. It had been a small one, beaten down by logic and reality slapping her in the face, but it had been something she had held on tightly to in the nights where the brand pulsed and she felt fire in her veins.

Yet, she could no longer deny it as she sat there in that frozen forest. She could train and try for a thousand years and the ice would never return. The Chantry had gotten her in the end, just like they had hoped. Even free from Tranquility, she would never escape what they had done to her. Much like the burn on her forehead, her very being was forever scarred.

Was it even worth going on?

It was a thought that kept stabbing at her on the bad days as of late, especially during the nights she couldn’t sleep. But that was at night, in the dark when her eyes burned and her forehead throbbed. This was the daytime – she should have been ok.

But she wasn’t.

“I hate this.” She choked back a sob, rubbing her frozen sleeve against her soggy face. “Should’ve just stayed behind to die.”

It was certainly looking more attractive as she sat there, a soggy mess on that icy stump in a dead forest. At least then, she wouldn’t have known the pain that came with the broken brand and the frustration that came with it. She wouldn’t know what the disgusted looks of the mages would be like as she passed, trying to keep herself calm.

Maybe it would have been better…

But Trevy knew she couldn’t. Instead, she wiped off her face and did her best to calm her breathing. As she came back to her senses, the cold returned full force and stung her exposed skin. The pain was a great reminder – she stood.

“I’m… going to have to apologize for that I guess.” She sighed, shoulders sagging. There was a lot of that lately too. “Better head back…”

With uneasy steps, Trevy started to leave the woods. The ice and snow crackled under her feet as she picked her way through the barely walked path. It was unpleasant, and she winced at the sound. This was the kind of ice she had never liked – it was too brittle. So she shifted and climbed off into the ankle deep snow instead.

It was thanks to that she saw it.

“Is that a skull?” Trevy cocked her eyebrow as she squinted. Off in the distance, a break in the canopy was allowing gray light to filter through the branches and illuminate a patch of ground. There was something there, white and hard. Curiosity got the better of her, and she stumbled over towards it.

Just like she thought, it had been the skull of some creature left there by predators that had picked its skeleton clean. Most of the bones were there as far as she could tell, though she had no idea how to count them. Skeletons had never been her interest – she had sought out the ice after all.

But… the way the light caught the dark holes of the eye sockets drew her towards it. She had to wonder what it had been in life as she knelt down. It was too small for a bear or a wild cat, but even she knew enough to see it wasn’t something like a rabbit. The teeth looked sharp, but plenty of things had sharp teeth…

Her hand hesitated inches from the skull. Trevy blinked as she realized she had left the path altogether and was standing in deep snow, shivering. Even she knew this was stupid. If she’d had any sense in her head, she would head back to Haven proper.

But her sense had abandoned her as she stared down as the pile of bones. Something was drawing her there.

“Maker, I hope you’re not a demon.” Those were the last words she spoke as her fingers brushed against the bones. Immediately, it was like a live wire had run through her arm, making her vision go white. A soundless bell rung through her head as the air was knocked from her lungs, and she could see nothing.

Nothing but a path in front of her.

This wasn’t the path back to Haven – that was normal stone and rock. Here, the flagstones were shoulder blades and other flat bones, the rows marked with the long ones she didn’t know the names for. Everything was done in shades of white, black, and a cool purple that reminded her of night. There was no sound but crows as she walked along, bones tinkling under her feet.

The path took her to a dark purple crystal, filled with a pulsing energy. In front of it stood a skeleton, reassembled with its missing parts filled in with violet energy. Two globes of purple light stared out at her from empty eye sockets, and what had once been a bushy tail waved as she approached.

“What…” Words failed her as she felt herself drawn to the crystal. “Is… all of this is necromancy, isn’t it?”

She knew the field from listening to her cousin – hopefully alive somewhere – going on and on about his lessons when they had been younger. He had described his own source of magic as a sort of graveyard filled with animated skeletons. If this was to be her center, it was far more austere, almost somber.

Then again… he had developed his magic. She was just beginning.

The skeletal creature approached her, stopping at her feet. Those glowing eyes focused on her, and she swore it was sizing her up. Trevy wasn’t really sure what it wanted from her, but she couldn’t look away.

“I don’t know anything about necromancy, you know…” she knelt down, hand reaching out. “I was Tranquil… you’d have better results from someone else.”

Her vision didn’t waver. Apparently, it had made its decision on the matter. The only thing left was for her to agree to the terms. Had this been days, even hours prior, she would have hesitated. Yet even as she sat there, she remembered where the ice had once been, and the burning brand that remained.

It might have been a strange sight… but it was free from the brand. It was hers, to do with as she wanted. All she had to do was accept it.

Her hand found the top of the skull, where the ears had once been. “Be patient with me, I’ve got a lot to learn.”

As soon as her fingers brushed the bone, the violet light exploded around her with a rush of wind and the crunching of skeletons. When the light cleared, she was back in the clearing, freezing cold as snow began to fall all around her.

The creature stood assembled in front of her – she was pretty sure it had been a fox when it was alive.

A strange smile crossed her face as she stood. “I guess you should follow me back… hope you don’t mind being my training dummy, I don’t exactly know where necromancers get their bone supplies from.”

Together, Trevy and the skeleton started their walk back. No doubt there would be a thousand questions that led to even more when she returned, a reanimated corpse following at her heels. She had no idea how to answer any of them, but she was happy to try.

It was cold, no doubt about it… but she was slowly growing used to it. She doubted she would ever be truly comfortable with the ice and snow, but there was nothing unique about that. The memory, that she would never forget… but she was slowly starting to accept that some things would never return.

Life didn’t go backwards after all. Yet, she was beginning to see that if she couldn’t go back to who she had once been, to her old power, perhaps she could seek what lay ahead. Maybe her new friend would help.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to learn to like robbing graves and picking up carrion, though. Her stomach wasn’t the strongest. Maybe that was why she had never really looked into necromancy…

[ramblinganthropologist]

Do you have any ocs besides Al and his sister? I would love to know about all of them!

... *looks over to closet door stuffed with OCs* maybe.

A lot of them are dragon age, such as the Origins trio Cahel Mahariel, Cherche Mahariel (belongs to reallyfuckinggay), and Miris Tabris. Then there's the 2 Duo, Avery Hawke and Moses Hawke (belongs to reallyfuckinggay). Finally there's the Inquisition 7 which include Kaaras Lavellan-Adaar, Akri Lavellan-Adaar, Jackel Lavellan (belongs to reallyfuckinggay), Hissra (reallyfuckinggay), Aeronwen Trevelyan, Ian Trevelyan, and Owain Trevelyan.

And that's just my canon run. Non canon Shepards include MK Shepard, Calliope Shepard, and Jacob Shepard. I have non canon Wardens (Rose Cousland, Vonnar Brosca, Zara Aeducan) too. I also have a Solavellan kid named Conan Lavellan-Aclassi and an eventual DA4 character named Isana Stonebreaker.

If you wanna know about any of my kids, just let me know!

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 21 14 “Your infomation was wrong”

Fanfiction

Fandom: Dragon age Inquisition

Warnings: Character death, attempted assassination.

Summary: On a dark night, three would-be assassins make their way into Skyhold. Their task: kill the Inquisitor. Unfortunately for them... they’re not the only assassins in the fortress. Sucks to be them.

---

It was the perfect night when they set out – dark, cloudy, without a hint of the moon. If there was ever good conditions for assassination, this was one of them.

Their group was small – two humans and an elf, all of them with lined pockets and a vial of poison if things went south. Should things go down, the instructions were simple: take it and meet the Maker. Let him sort out the rest.

He didn’t know the names of his companions. He didn’t need to – it wasn’t important. They were just there to keep him safe when they got close to the target. Somehow, he’d been the one to get the honor to wield the blade. Was it his history, or the fact he had absolutely nothing to lose? Nobody was waiting for him at home – he didn’t have one. Hell, he didn’t even have a name anymore. He’d lost that after the last prison break. Now he just went by Rock. It was as good a name as any.

They’d been hired a few weeks prior, assembled from different cities in Thedas by a small group of nobles pissed enough to throw their sovereigns into something drastic. Proper channels hadn’t worked against the target. In times like this, you had to get dirty. Had it been ten years earlier, they would’ve gone to Antiva for their assassins. Problem was, the Crows were all dead – one of their own had seen to that. Without those resources, people who wanted someone dead had to get a little creative.

Lucky for them, he was plenty creative.

“We’re getting close. You ready?” The elf was whispering, probably because of her sensitive ears. She was going to be the lookout, thanks to the fact she could see in the dark. He really couldn’t see her killing anyone anyway – she seemed too gentle and naïve Then again, she’d been hired by their employer, so as far as he knew she was some major murderess doing this to beat the rap on a death penalty. He’d learned not to judge a book by its cover.

Rock tapped his pocket for emphasis as they continued their trek. Skyhold was a hard place to get to, even harder than Haven. It was just as cold too – his balls felt ready to freeze off as he kept his horse in line. Honestly, he would’ve preferred Haven, mostly because it was easier to get out of. Mountains weren’t exactly his favorites based on the fact they were easy to fall off of if things went wrong. One step to the left, and they never found your body.

Of course, that meant that disposing of corpses was an easy task. If they’d been hired to do that, their target would have never been found. Unfortunately for him, they had to make a show of things. Something about teaching a lesson – he didn’t really care.

“Keep your wits about you. This place is a fucking fortress.” The other human of the group was a mountain of a man. Something about the way he gripped his sword and grit his teeth made Rock think he had once been on the other side of the law. Maybe he had been a noble’s guard -or hell, even a templar. He had been relieved when Haven was out of the question. “I don’t like this.”

That made two of them. Problem was, they couldn’t go back without proof they’d done the job. So, whatever was eating them, they had to push it down. Besides, they barely had enough food to make it to their location. If they pulled out without grabbing something once the job was done, they might as well take their poison and meet the Maker.

“Well, it’s too late to back out now.” He squinted. “Can you see it yet?”

The elf was squinting too, shielding her sensitive eyes with her hand. In the small torch they carried, they glowed an eerie green that brought a shiver up his spine. He hated that elves could do that – it was fucking creepy. Reminded him of a cat, honestly, and he hated cats.

“I see our entrance. Whoever planned this, they knew what they were doing. This guy must’ve really made someone angry to get them to betray him like this, it’s got inside job written all over it.”

He almost felt bad for the poor bastard, but that faded. He had a job to do.

After a bit more riding, the group took to their path on foot, leaving the horses behind. Their elven companion gestured to the base of the cliff the great fortress rested on. At first, it just looked like a rock, but when the lamp was held up to it, he saw it. The crack in the wall was in fact a small cave, just wide enough for their largest member to get through.

“Alright, it’s up through here. We’ll be in the forge after that, then we need to head up the stairs. He’ll be sleeping there.” The large human took to the front. “Stick behind me. They’ve got plenty of guards.”

Rock wasn’t about to argue with that. He fell into step behind his guardian, the elf taking to his side as secondary defense. They both had weapons drawn – he a large hammer, she two small glistening daggers. They both held them far better than he ever would, but he had never painted himself as a fighter. Besides, it helped him blend in.

Into the cave they went, up a long winding staircase cut into the rock. With every step up the slippery stones, it got hotter. Sweat began to trickle down the back of his neck, and he wiped off his forehead with the back of his hand as they walked. He knew forges were supposed to be hot… but this was ridiculous.

Though, when they breeched the forge, it made sense. The place opened to a frankly fucking huge cavern, filled with blacksmith gear and various arms in armor in various stages of completion. The work was fine, or at least he thought it was. He wasn’t exactly known for his knowledge of gear – as long as the knife cut, he didn’t care how much it cost. That was more for the people who hired him.

“No wonder they’re staying alive against the Red Templars…” the big guy was muttering under his breath. Yep, there went Rock’s theory about him at least being an ex-Templar. “Surprised the forge isn’t running night and day…”

“Be glad they’re not, otherwise we’d have never gotten through.” Rock spotted the next staircase. When he gestured to it, the small group continued. They left the boiling hot room behind and started up another flight of stairs, the air growing cooler the further they got. Now the sweat was threatening to freeze, rather than boil off. “Shit, I hate it here…”

He was used to damp Ferelden, full of dogs and swamp. This shit was just too damn much for him. At least once they got the rest of their money, he could move back there and… well, he wasn’t sure. He’d figure it out then – planning wasn’t really his specialty if it didn’t involve murder.

That would explain his arrest record…

No matter. At the top of the stairs, their ex-Templar held up his hand and crept forward. The elf was soon at his side, glancing through the crack in the door. From what Rock could hear, it was quiet on the other side. Everyone in the hall had gone to bed or were at least off doing other things.

Talk about lucky.

Big guy held up his hand in their agreed symbol – they’d go on three. Slowly, his fingers moved down, until they were all pressed against his palm. The moment they were, it was on – off they went, through the door and across the hall towards a door on the other side.

If Rock had stopped to look, he would have marveled at how big the damn place was. Not only that, it was surprisingly warm compared to the dark, cold corridor they had walked through just moments earlier. Mage power, no doubt – it was the sort of thing you could rely on when you had the whole fucking Circle on your side.

The next flight of steps didn’t look as traveled or worn. These they walked along quietly, barely even breathing. Here, someone had tried to redecorate – there were scraps of fabric fluttering in the breeze from a nearby open window. At one point, it may have been part of a banner. He was pretty sure he had seen one like it in the hall, though the fact this one was missing gave him pause. Had they missed some action?

Shit… he had a bad feeling about this.

However, they were too far to turn back. Their target was at the top of the stairs. They pressed on, finally clearing the last batch of steps. At the top rested a room set for their target, reported to be the head of the Inquisition’s forces. Somehow, this guy had pissed off enough people to get a multi nation hit put out on him.

Maybe it was because he was qunari? Or was he Dalish… Rock had gotten conflicting reports on that. Oh well, once he saw the corpse, he’d be able to settle the matter. At least he could take a horn as a symbol when he was done.

Even though the guy was the head of a holy army, his quarters didn’t give off the feel of a religious leader. Instead, it was surprisingly simple. There were some hangings on the wall, but they weren’t Andrastian like you would expect. Instead, they reminded Rock of deep woods with bright eyes glancing through the trees.

So… Dalish it was.

He spotted his target without much trouble. There was a lump in the bed, breathing slowly in a deep sleep with the covers pulled up over their head. From the looks of things, the Inquisitor was a stomach sleeper.

That made things a little more difficult, but he could stab through a back to get to a heart if he tried. Worst comes to worst, he’d just slit his throat.

Rock’s heart pounded in his ears as he stepped forth, drawing the knife from his pocket. Their employer had given it to him before they left, warning him that it was soaked in a particularly deadly poison. If the stab didn’t kill the Inquisitor, that would. It was an insurance policy, one he was glad to have as he approached the bed. The lump was a lot larger than he had expected it to be – elves were small.

So… qunari? Man, he was confused. Oh well, the dose of poison would kill either of them several times over, so it didn’t matter.

“Sorry for this, it’s just business.” He muttered words under his breath as he positioned the knife where the man’s heart would be. “Go to whatever god or gods you believe in.”

And then Rock brought the knife down. It stabbed through the blanket, but there was no warm spray of blood. Instead, the blanket flew up, knocking him to the ground. Much to his shock, it was too heavy to lift off.

“Shit, it’s an- “The big guy started to talk, but then the smell of the sky before it rained filled the room, and he went silent with a gurgle. Then something heavy hit the ground, causing Rock to shudder underneath the blanket. He tried to push off, but it kept him firmly in place. In the dark, he could see the sigil – it was enchanted.

Fuck. They’d walked ass first into this.

Unsurprisingly, he heard a second gurgle not longer after, and a much smaller body hit the ground. Two down, one to go… Rock could only wait for what he knew was coming as he stopped struggling. If only the blanket wasn’t so heavy, he might have been able to grab his poison…

The blanket suddenly stopped glowing, and he was exposed to the night air. At first, hope sprung into his chest at the sight of glowing eyes. However, they were far too low. More importantly, he could make out lines tattooed into the elf’s face, even in the dark.

“I hope whoever hired you didn’t pay too much. Talk about amateur hour.” The elf was also female, but the accent was all wrong. “Seriously, you didn’t wonder why nobody was down in the great hall?”

She looked over her shoulder. “How’s searching the bodies going, you two?”

Rock shuddered as he felt magic snake across the floor. His eyes widened as he watched his companions rise to sitting positions, eyes clouded. The large human had a huge dent in his skull, and the elf’s chest was still bleeding from a nasty looking stab wound. Magic surrounded them, moving them into position.

“These two don’t have anything useful.” A soft human voice spoke from the side. Rock looked to see a large woman standing with a smaller man, both of their hands glowing with dark pink and orange energy. She was in control of the big guy if they were color-coded like they thought. “You guy’s the big deal.”

The small man, fully decked out in skull makeup, looked almost bored as he kept the elf standing. “Might as well just toss them off the cliff and get to interrogating this guy. I’d search his pockets, the last thing this one was thinking about was some kind of poison.”

Rock felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck as the elf turned to him. She had a bloody dagger in her hand – probably the one that had killed his temporary companion. This she held out as she rifled through his pockets, eventually finding the poison.

“Got it.” She tossed this over to the large human, who caught it. “Now then… wanna tell me who hired you to kill my cousin?”

The tip of the blade was dangerously close to his neck. Rock swallowed hard, surprising even himself. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in a position like this, but usually there was a way to get out. However, he was too far from the stairs, and the nearby balcony opened out onto the mountain range. Without his poison, all he could do was hope he could get a blow in to the elf standing in front of him.

But then he had to deal with the two necromancers controlling his companions. Those weren’t good odds.

His shoulders sagged. “If I tell you… you’ll let me go? They say your Inquisitor is a compassionate man…”

It was his last-ditch effort to get out of dying. It was pathetic, but he had enough money to get to Ferelden if they let him go. If he hid well enough, his employer would never find him. He could lay low for a while, then start over somewhere…

He just had to survive.

The elf kept the knife at his throat. “Start talking or we’ll sic your friends on you.”

On cue, the big guy took a step forward, dead hands wrapped clumsily around his hammer. Blood was trickling from his mouth, and his eyes had fully webbed over. Rock had seen bodies controlled by necromancers before – they had freakish levels of strength and no concern for getting hurt. After all, they were dead – it wasn’t like they had to worry about broken bones. That was his concern.

Fuck.

Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. “Fine… fine. I was hired by a group of nobles out of Orlais. After what your boss did at the Winter Palace, they wanted a bit of revenge. I can give you all of their names, where to find them…”

The elf rolled her eyes. “Seriously? A simple threat was all it took for you to give up the goods? What kind of a shitty excuse of an assassin are you?”

One who knew when to sing like a canary so his body didn’t get tossed to the rocks…

No matter – she turned to her companions. “Trevy, give him paper so he can write it down. Let me know if you recognize any names.”

The big necromancer grabbed paper and a pencil from the nearby desk. She put these next to his hand, hers still glowing. As she moved, his companion kept his dead eyes on hers. Right then, he was nothing more than a puppet – a puppet armed with a giant ass hammer, but under control none the less.

If he could break her control…

But the look in her eyes brought a shiver up her spine. He had seen that look before, the one time he’d gotten close to a Circle. The Tranquil had that sort of look, but they weren’t supposed to be able to do magic like she was. Maybe all Circle mages had that look – could explain why they had decided to bust out.

Didn’t matter. Fighting her was a bad move.

It took him a few minutes to write down the names, mostly because he could barely write to begin with. No matter, he soon handed off the paper to the mage in front of him. With one hand still glowing, she read the list. Thanks to their proximity, he could see her eyebrow arching higher with each line.

“You were right, it’s the Duke.”

The elf shook her head. “He’s as subtle as a hammer to the head. Probably tried to find a Crow first, but they’re all rotting in the ground somewhere. No wonder he had to stoop to this level.”

Rock still had sweat trickling down his neck as he looked up at her. “The info’s good, I swear. Now will you let me go?”

She didn’t answer him. His heart began to throb in his ears as he waited for her response. Then the knife drew away from his neck slowly, until he could feel himself able to breathe once more. Sighing in relief, he started to rise.

Then he fell to his knees. In his excitement to get out alive, he hadn’t noticed his attacker was a dual wielder.

“Looks like your information was wrong.” Her voice was growing faint as his eyes grew dull and the room began to close in on him as he bled out on the floor. “Kaas might be a compassionate man, but I’m sure as fuck not.”

Then there was nothing as he slipped away, his last failure sinking deep into his dying bones. No doubt when this was through, they’d be going after the Duke. He almost felt bad for the man, but it was hard to do that while dying. He had more importantly things to focus on as the last of his life drained out.

Man… they had really fucked this one up…

---

Jackel shook her head as she turned to the two mages in the room. “He’s dead now, right?”

Ian’s hand glowed briefly as he passed it over the man on the floor. “As a doorknob. We should clean this up before Kaaras gets back. You know he hates hearing people tried to kill him.”

This wasn’t even a good attempt, honestly. With everything going on, she would have expected assassins of a higher quality than the three they had found in the Inquisitor’s quarters that dark night. She hadn’t been kidding about amateur hour – that had been downright pathetic.

“Yeah, use your guys to toss him off the balcony than make them swan dive.” She tucked the paper into a pocket of her leggings. “Tomorrow I’ll head out to meet the Duke and asked him why he tried to kill Kaas.”

And by ask, she meant assassinate. Unlike these three, she was actually good at her job though. There wouldn’t be a trace left of him when she was done, only a memory of the fact he’d once been there. That would get his accomplices to sweat, and she loved when that happened. It made things more interesting as she hunted them down.

True, this should have been Leliana’s job, but Kaaras was her family. More importantly… this had been some really shoddy work. It made he feel embarrassed to be in the same specialization as these guys.

Oh well – the small human was soon sailing off the balcony, tossed by the big one with the cracked skull. In a matter of moments, all three were gone with the only remains being some weapons and a blood smear. Lucky for her, she had two necromancers to help with the clean-up.

Honestly, it was a good thing her cousin had been away. He would’ve let all three live; hell, he might have even asked them to join the Inquisition. What could she say – he had a soft heart that made him naïve sometimes. That was what she was there for: course correction and threat elimination.

Someone had once told her she’d make a great left hand of the Divine. That was an insult of course – she wasn’t Andrastian – but the fact remained she was damn good at what she did.

“Alright, you two clean up. I need to pack for this trip.” She looked over at the two necromancers, already hard at work. “And if he asks where I went…”

Trevy’s voice picked up as she lifted the blood for disposal. “Got pissed at someone and fucked off to be on her own for a few days.”

That a girl. She was a great accomplice.

Jackel nodded as she started down the stairs, leaving them to finish their task. Her mind was running with possibilities as she looked down at the knife she’d taken off the corpse before he’d gone over the edge.

Normally, poetic justice was a bit too cliché for her… but maybe for once she’d make an exception. Or not… she had plenty of time to think about it on the ride over. The possibilities were endless.

That was the hardest part about being an assassin some days… figuring out how to kill her target and really stick the message. Well, that and getting in. But she could worry about that later. She had a method to plan.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 - 14 (Tomb)

Summary: Kaas isn’t mad... ok that’s a lie, he’s mad. Wouldn’t you be? Then again, what was he thinking sending two necromancers into a tomb?

---

“Alright you two... I promise I'm not mad.”

That, of course, was a lie. Kaaras could feel the vein throbbing in his forehead as he glanced across the desk at the two standing before him. Ian and Trevy looked less than comfortable standing before him, hands behind their backs like they had been called in to the principle's office. Yet despite everything, he got the sense they were pleased with their efforts.

Damn it all, it was impossible to lecture a mage who was pleased with the experiment. He should know, he grew up with one.

“Everything's working exactly as we planned it out.” Ian grinned, as he rubbed the back of his neck. There was no contrition in that gesture, or he was Orlesian. “We have it completely under control, trust me!”

Trevy nodded next to him, so hard her headband almost slipped down to her nose. She, he noted, was practically bouncing on her heels at the news. Oh no, they'd gotten the reasonable one. “The plan's foolproof, we went over it enough times before leaving.”

Kaaras sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his seat. Already, he could feel the headache coming on. Some days, it just didn't pay to be in the Inquisitor. “Creators help me... why don't you just start at the beginning?”

Why did he get the feeling his headache was going to turn into a migraine at this rate? Must've been the gleam in their eyes...

---

“Are we even  in the right area anymore?”

“We must be, it feels right.”

It was a lovely day, and somehow they were out on their own.

Trevy glanced down at the map she had been given, comparing it to the landscape. Apart from the trees being bigger and the smoke from a village off in the distance giving her some pause, it was the right area. Here, if they found the entrance, would be the first of the tombs they would need to check for signs of Red Templars laying in wake. They had gotten reports of them gathering in the area, but nobody had been able to find them. At least, not above ground anyway... the ground looked pretty, but underneath it was positively chock full of ancient tombs from families who had sought to bury their dead there.

Plenty of hiding places for templars. So... send in people good with knowing the signs of grave robbing to check.

Ian placed his hand to the ground and closed his eyes. He stayed like that for a few minutes, still as the grave itself. Then his grin returned as he stood, dusting off his gloved hands. “Yep, there's definitely one beneath our feet, and I'm guessing the entrance is hidden in those bushes. See how they're shaped funny? I bet there's a door leading to a ladder.”

The inquisition agent who had been assigned to help them (read: keep an eye on them) nodded as he followed them into the aforementioned corpse. A few moments of digging around, and they found a half-rotten door that opened to a dark hole and a ladder. Trevy went down first, and soon the other two joined her.

Underground, it was dark until Ian cast a light spell. That's when they got the full picture of the dark, dingy hole they found themselves in. Once, torches had lined the walls to guide those with business there. Centuries of disuse and neglect had rotted them to the wall, plunging them into darkness. Off in the distance, water dripped and rats squeaked.

Just like a proper tomb to have ambiance.

“D-Do we really have to go in?” Their guide was sounding less than excited at the prospect. Ian and Trevy exchange looks above his head, before nodding. Then it was the taller of the pair's turn to act, smiling as she did.

“If you want, you can guard this entrance. If we find anything, we'll call to you. The way this passage is shaped will make hearing us pretty easy.”

The poor man nodded. “Will you... can you leave the light? It's dark here... I can't see my own hand in front of my face without it.”

A second light was generated and left with the agent while Ian and Trevy left to go deeper into the tomb, still following the map they had been given. With every step, their hearts began to pound a little faster. The architecture was getting older, reaching to before the last Blight if their lessons were correct. Whatever was left in here was old.

Old... and probably powerful.

“Yep, there's the family crest.” Ian jabbed his index finger at a carving above the door that would lead to the main crypt. “Pretty sure we're about to enter the vault. What did your research turn up about who rests here?”

Trevy pulled a hidden note from her pocket and read it by the light. “Quite a few strong warriors, this clan was well known for berserkers... but it's the 3rd head of the family who is particularly of note. Legend said he was buried with the bones of a dragon he slew in combat.”

They exchanged grins at the mere mention of dragons. True, this mission was really about checking for Red Templars... but if they got a little work in, did it really hurt anyone? Besides, there could be enemies hiding in the main crypt. It was most likely dry and protected from the elements. It be the perfect place for a sneak attack.

The pair exchanged high fives before checking the door for traps. They weren't rogues, but they had been in enough tombs to know where to look. Arrows twanged as they set a few off on purpose – and maybe one by accident – and they both stepped back as the battering ram soared past. Pretty typical turn of the age stuff, in remarkable condition despite the location. Clearly, the family had put some money into this.

Oh well, that made the goodies on the inside all the more enticing.

Inside, there were a few more traps laid among the dusty stones that surrounded the marble slab coffins. Nobody in this family was Andrastian, so they hadn't burned their dead. Instead, they had been kind enough to gift wrap them for anyone who came by...

Particularly, two very curious necromancers who hadn't had a chance to test their new pet theory out yet.

“Remember, he's the 3rd head so he's probably back a ways. Look for the family crest that has the dragon in it they added it after him.” Trevy was already checking the lids of coffins, hand trailing along the surface like she was caressing a lover. “Even if you don't find him... ooh... we got a good family here, don't we?”

Ian sounded positively giddy off in the distance. “Remember how you said he was buried with the bones? You weren't fucking kidding, come check this shit out!”

Trevy practically skipped among the tombs as she raced to find her cousin. He was towards the back, at the largest settlement. Here, the sarcophagus was wrapped with bones that made her heart skip a beat. Diagrams lept out as she figured body parts and where the muscles should have been on the creature in life. A glitter entered her eyes as she looked at her cousin.

“Does he have his sword?”

Ian beamed as he motioned towards the lid. “It's kind of heavy, mind giving me a hand?”

For two mages, they didn't do a bad job of getting the lid off. Adrenaline must have helped. Whatever did, it sent up centuries of dust that even they had to cough and sputter at while it dissipated into the stale air. Once it did, however, they had full view of their prize.

“Maker's breath, he's beautiful.”

It wasn't every day you saw a skeleton in full armor with a sword between its hands, much less surrounded by the bones of a small dragon that definitely looked like it could have worn a saddle at one point in life.

“There is no way we're walking away from this.” Trevy sounded giddy as she turned to her cousin. “Did you bring the potions, I think we're going to need them.”

Her cousin responded by shaking his bag, in which tinkled a few bottles of something they definitely shouldn't have brought with them. “Stocked up before we left. Shall we get to work?”

“I was hoping you'd say that!”

---

“So... you found the bones of an ancient warrior and his mount...”

Yep, that headache was a migraine now. Kaaras could feel it pounding between his horns as he looked at the two in front of him. Technically he didn't need their story – he had plenty of reports of a skeletal warrior all but bursting out of the ground on the back of a creator some said was a wyvern, and others said was a dragon. Either way, skeleton man popped out of the ground and gave  a lot of nice people heart attacks.

Definitely not a good look for the Inquisition.

Trevy was still nodding. “It took a few potions, but we managed to imbue a few basic commands into him.”

“Protect the village was the one we worked hardest at.” Ian was glowing. “Also if he saw any Red Templars to just utterly wreck their shop and let us know afterwards. We left a raven with him.”

Great, a skeletal raven had joined the party. Were they trying to scare people to death?

He sighed, breathing deeply so he didn't yell. “And you thought this was appropriate because...”

The two exchanged glances and the urge to hit the desk forehead first was never stronger. Ian he could understand, but Trevy was another story. She was supposed to be the reasonable one of the pair. Apparently, reasonable was relative with necromancers.

“Well, we can't protect the area without help. And this one will keep running because we made the power source the dragon bones.” Ian was ticking off his fingers. “And the one we locked it to is pretty well secured, so the Red Templars would have to smash the whole skeleton before they found it.”

Trevy added with a way too enthusiastic grin, “And if they tried that... well... he wasn't the only one down there.”

Kaaras felt his eye twitch. “What?”

No. Fuck no. He was not dealing with this today.

The pair looked rather impish as they exchanged glances. In the end, it was Trevy who decided to let the cat out of the bag as she stepped forward, a piece of parchment in her hands. She laid this on the desk, brushing away what had to be grave dirt as she did.

“Well, we figured Red Templars would eventually figure it out and come calling... so we may have asked some of his relatives to keep an eye out for us. This one, this one, and that one are on active guard duty.”

She jabbed at a few circled tombs. “And there's two others that are latent. They'll only summon if they actually get down to the crypt.”

“But don't worry, we coded Red Templar as the activation. Some goat herder wanders down, he's just gonna shit himself because of the skeletons. They won't bother him.” Ian finished, tapping the map. “We made sure of that.”

Great. So the booby trapped, skeleton-filled tomb was laid in such a way that the local villagers would only be fucking terrified of them instead of dead. Just what he needed to hear after having to assure them the next Blight wasn't coming down around them. His head was throbbing... this was just a nightmare.

Worst of all... it was proving effective if the reports were anything to go by, so it wasn't like he could really say anything.

So he sighed, feeling his head pound. “Right... of course.”

“Don't worry, Inquisitor, we thought of everything.” Ian sounded way too confident in that. “So... we good? Because there's a lot of books that need re-shelving in the library since we've been gone.”

He sighed as he wave them off. “Yeah go... go do that. I'm going to start writing a very long letter to the mayor of the town you terrified.”

The pair left, leaving him to his misery. Kaaras massaged his temple as he stared down at the paper in front of him. Saying it was a nightmare was putting it mildly, but in the end it had been about his only option.

That agent was fired, or demoted or... something.

“You should've sent Scout Harding or Krem-puff to keep them in line.”

Another headache. Kaaras sighed as he felt a familiar pressure settle onto his shoulders. No doubt Jackel had heard the entire story from multiple people by now, and she had most definitely been in the room, so there was no need to explain to her what was going on. He just had to sit through the reaction to it afterwards.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in the hopes his head wouldn't explode. “Bad idea. They would've done worse if their crushes were there to see it.”

“Yeah, true.” She tossed him a piece of chocolate as he started to work. “Josie wouldn't let me go because I'm a bad influence or something. That's on her.”

Kaaras munched away as he waited for sanity to take over. “Akri, Hissra, and I wouldn't have fit... and I wouldn't have asked the first choice there anyway. Owain is pretty much useless too, and anyone else  I would've asked was busy. It had to be those two.”

Sending necromancers to a tomb... the universe clearly hated him.

“Hey, they get results at least. That place is set for a couple centuries.”

Yes... and so were the nightmares of everyone who lived there. Kaaras wasn't even sure how to begin the letter he needed to write besides a giant 'I'm sorry I sent necromancers into a tomb but I didn't have a lot of options to pick from' at the beginning. That was as good a place as any, but maybe he needed to punch up the language a bit.

Ugh... next time he was just going to break himself in half and go down himself. What a headache.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020  7 - Tower

Summary: It’s moving day for the Inquisition’s head librarian. Luckily, she has help getting the books out. It’s a big thing, moving to the tower… and not just because of the distance. Trevy’s not sure if she’s ready, but what are friends for anyway but to help you move?

(Takes place six months after the last one, definitely post Haven boom.)

—

She was going to miss this room.

“Trevy, you ready?”

Jackel’s voice called from behind the door. Trevy turned, a box in her arms weighed down with her possessions. There was one more like it, a small one, waiting on the bare bed at the heart of the room. That one would be light enough hopefully.

Moving day was always so stressful, especially when her new room was … well, suggested would be putting it mildly.

“Yeah, I just need to get my flower!”

The tiny window above her bed that always let in cold air was the perfect place for the room’s other sole occupant, a tiny potted flower that was starting to bloom. She had found it the day after tranquility had broken – it was the first thing that had made her stop crying long enough to dry her eyes. So it was coming with her, no matter what. It had been a comfort, here in the space she had found herself in.

If she was being nice, it was cozy. Honest… well, somehow they had gotten a too-small bed and a tiny chest into what was pretty much an old closet. Trevy hadn’t minded it – it had helped her feel more secure in the first couple weeks after Haven. If they had left here there permanently, it wouldn’t have bothered her at all.

Problem was, it bothered Jackel. And Jackel had a way of getting what she wanted.

“Is this all you have?” The elf was careful to open her door and peer around. “Damn, I brought too much muscle.”

Trevy cocked her eyebrow as she looked her friend over. “What do you-”

A pair of gray hands with black painted nails soon took the box from her arms, then removed the one by the floor. They belonged to Jackel’s cousin Akri, who definitely could not fit inside the small space if he straightened up. His horns were practically brushing the top bent over. The poor man practically had to crawl out.

Just looking at him made her back ache, and that was saying something.

“You got everything, Trevy?” Akri had no problem with the boxes. “Don’t want to be coming back in here, you’d fucking smack your head on the door and die.”

Trevy responded by picking up the flower on her small windowsill and held it close to her body like it was a stuffed bear. Once that was gone, the room was empty of everything she had put into it. Now it was just a sad closet someone had shoved a bed into.

Hopefully whoever was next in there was smaller than 6 feet tall…

“I have everything.” She paused, feeling her emotions start to want to leak. They were getting easier to control, but she still felt them. Tears budded at the corners of her eyes, but she willed them back. “Thank you for helping me.”

Jackel was on her shoulders as they entered the library proper. Here, the smell of books and the sound of flipping pages filled the air. Something about it always made her heart beat a little slower, as if she was sinking into a hot bath. Libraries always had calmed her down, even before the brand.

“You needed to move anyway, it’s bullshit they shoved the head librarian into a closet.”

Trevy felt her cheeks heat up as she hugged her flower friend. “That’s a new title, though…”

The ink probably wasn’t even dry yet on the promotion sitting in Josephine’s office. It was part of her moving, but apparently it had been in the works for some time. Nobody knew the library better than her, and that was without her Tranquil memory. When it came down to it, she liked books and liked them in their place.

Besides… the last one shelved them wrong. She hated that.

“Still yours. It looks pretty shitty if Kaas has his head librarian in a fucking closet.” Akri adjusted the boxes. “Where we heading anyway, one of the ramparts?”

Jackel’s voice sounded from above Trevy’s head as they walked. “Nope, in the tower. They just cleared out a nice room luckily enough.”

Somewhere among the veiled insinuation of what her friend had done to help her move, Trevy felt her heart stop. Her mind went numb, then the words sank in. The tower; the tower where the Inquisition’s mages lived and worked. Akri had a room there, as did her cousin Ian. She had seen Dorian coming from there too when he wasn’t hanging out with his boyfriend.

She was going there?

“Makes sense, guess they’re used to keeping all the mages together.” Akri cast a glance over his shoulder towards her – his eyes were hard to read. “Hey, you’re slowing down there. You didn’t hurt yourself shelving books did you, Trevy?”

The former Tranquil felt the tears bead at her eyes, but there was no way to stop them. So she employed her second method – wiping them on her sleeve. More followed, and then she felt her chest heave. It wanted to make her sob. That was kind of embarrassing in the middle of the walkway, though. At least she could control that.

It was a work in progress, clearly.

“I-I’m fine!” she managed to choke out in case anyone was worried. “J-just… you know. Reacting is all.”

They had told her she would always feel things stronger than others and be more likely to cry as a result of the brand being both applied and removed. The tattoo on her shoulder helped somewhat, but there was always going to be the chance she’d just start sobbing. It was just part of her now, like the burn on her forehead she hid away behind the headband.

It was still kind of humiliating, though. Her brain still worked well enough to tell her that.

“Hey, you’re doing it less though.” Jackel’s ass on her shoulder did wonders for a grounding method, as did her voice. “Now, we going or what? You never know who they’re going to try to move in. They’re like hermit crabs or something…”

Trevy giggled as she finished mopping off her eyes. Her sleeve was pretty soaked, but it would dry. It always did eventually. Now that she thought of it, it was staying dryer more these days than ever before. Perhaps that was a sign of progress.

Once the crying had passed, they were back en route. Before long, they were entering the tower and beginning the climb up the stairs. Her brain kicked into overdrive as it began to memorize the route. One floor became two, and then a third. They eventually stopped at the fourth door, one she knew very well.

A grinning skull opened the door for her. “Welcome home, Aery.”

Ian was looking pretty good. He had put weight back on, enough that he didn’t actually look like a skeleton with skin slapped on. Now it was just the paint that carried the effect for him. He had his sleeves rolled up, probably to help with the move. Seeing his eyes glitter like that brought a smile to her face as she nodded and walked through.

She could smell the herbs from someone’s study, and someone was scratching away at parchment towards the opposite side. They passed her cousin’s door, wide open and showing the mess inside. Had he just rolled out of bed?

“Nice, Trevelyan.”

“Shut up, Adaar. At least my smalls aren’t on the floor.”

“That was one time-”

Ian and Akri were ribbing each other gently as they walked. Something about it made her heart feel warm. Much to her surprise, however, they stopped at the door next to his. Here, the plate slid into place held a name she knew well: Aeronwen Trevelyan, Head Librarian.

“Here we are.” Jackel jumped from her shoulder to the floor with all her assassin’s grace. “Who has the key, or do I have to pick this damn thing open?”

Her cousin answered by pulling a key from his pocket. “Got it right here. Practically had to murder the last guy for it, but oh well. They’ll do better in the field anyway.”

Trevy briefly felt a pang of guilt as the key changed hands, but she knew there was nothing she could about it at this point. Jackel was sliding the key into the lock, then clicking it into place. With a shove, the door opened and she was staring into her new room.

Well… it was definitely not a closet.

Trevy walked in first, heading straight to the opposite side of the room. The window here was larger, and despite facing snow-covered mountains she didn’t feel the chill. Her little flower would be happy here – perhaps with a few friends. The windowsill was definitely large enough for at least one more pot if she was judging it right.

The rest of the room was bright. There was a magelight set into the wall above the desk that no doubt would provide safe light at night when she was reading. A similar one hung above her bed, smaller. She remembered ones like it from the Ostwick Circle – but that was a lifetime ago. Something about it made her heart ache, but at least she didn’t start crying. Instead, she sat down on her new bed to look around.

Yep, this was a bed that could fit her. No more sore knees. And she had a desk too, with a chair large enough that she wouldn’t feel cramped. She even had a proper dresser, with a mirror hanging above it and a small washbasin below. No more using the communal one in the library for her.

“Way better for the head librarian.” Jacks settled in next to her as Akri put both boxes on the floor. “So, do you like it? Because if not we can bully Ian for his.”

The mage in question scoffed dramatically. “As if you would need to bully me to help my favorite cousin!”

“She’s the only cousin you talk to, genius.” Akri rolled his eyes. “But yeah, we’ll totally kick his ass out if you want to swap. You’ve seen his room before, right?”

As Ian and Akri playfully argued about the merits of throwing his bony ass out on the stones, Trevy let it all sink in. Everything was changing so fast that it was hard to keep up those days. Her head was honestly spinning from it all. Overwhelming was putting it mildly – it was a miracle she was able to focus at all.

But the plant on her window helped. In a few days, it would bloom. Then she would have something pretty to look at. Thinking about that calmed her heart as she stretched and let herself fall back against the wall. It wasn’t the best move – her back cracked in such a way that all three of her guests turned to look at her.

Well… it had been a very small room in her defense, and she was a very tall woman…

“You uh… didn’t break anything, did you?” Ian’s eyes darted nervously to the door. “We got a healer-”

A giggle bloomed at Trevy’s lips as she closed her eyes. “I’m fine. And you don’t need to kick Ian out, Akri. This room is perfect for me.”

And it wasn’t just because she fit. They fit too. The space held the chance of having her friends over, of long nights bothering her cousin over various ideas. She was no doubt going to spend long hours at that desk. With her luck, she’d burn the magelight out at least twice.

It all sounded wonderful to her. No matter how frustrating or upsetting it got, at least she had this space to return to, and the plant on the window. That would be enough to get her through some of the rougher patches.

Though… actually unpacking and arranging it was another story. Would it be rude to ask for help in that matter?

Only one way to find out…

“Hey, guys? Can I ask for one more favor before you go?”

Judging by the looks on their faces when she opened her eyes, maybe it wasn’t so rude after all. Excellent… because she really didn’t want to put her books away alone. Without someone to help her, she’d be there all night.

What… she was a librarian. She was allowed to be particular.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 5 and 6 - Ice and Trick

Summary: Jackel Lavellan has pulled off another successful candy thrift. That stolen chocolate is about to come in handy as she encounters a frozen mage at the encampment that the rest seem to be avoiding. It’s probably the nonstop crying thing, right? Right?

Well... at least they’ll have a funny story about the time they met.

---

“Thanks, Josie!”

“You are indeed welcome, Jackel. If you see Kaaras, please tell him to stop by. I have some letters he needs to see.”

Most of that went over Jackel Lavellan's head as she peeled the wrapper off a chocolate and shoved it into her mouth. There were a few more in her pockets, three that the ambassador hadn't seen her grab. Why would she be looking, the box was clearly above her head.

Children usually used chairs. Assassins pretending to be children for the candy benefits knew better methods.

It was a cold day, so Jackel needed the energy anyway. It was bad when she had to put on shoes, and even with them her toes were aching from the chill. There was snow outside, and more was falling outside the window. More than anything she had the desire to stay inside... but that would mean remaining in Haven's Chantry.

Between freezing and the Maker, she'd take freezing handily.

Her sensitive ears ached with the sudden blast of cold that assaulted them when she opened the heavy door. She pulled her cloak higher as she edged carefully onto the route that would take her to where she was staying. Overnight, ice had formed wherever moisture had been. The soldiers and what have you broke most of it up, but the jagged shards still waiting for drunks an unsuspecting morons to cut their ankles open on it. Jackel would not be one of those, thank you very much.

At least the chocolate was good. Antivan chocolate always was.

“Now, where the fuck did Kaas get to?” This she muttered under her breath, switching languages so nobody threatened to tell on her for swearing. “I swear, if someone dragged him off again without letting me know...”

Jackel followed this up with some munching. The chocolate had since melted in her mouth, and the sweetness made her step a little quicker.  She wasn't sure if this was the stolen chocolate or the legit one – sometimes they tasted differently. Of course her family would claim that was unrealistic, but it wasn't like either of them were able to steal candy off the ambassador. What would they know?

Besides, you know, like magic and shit.

Speaking of – the mages were settling in to Haven now. Apart from some arguments among their former jailers bristling to see their captives as equals, it was a pretty smooth transition. Their time on the road during the mage war made adapting pretty easy. She would've almost said she was proud, except that wasn't a thing she did and they were human anyway. So fuck that.

Except...

Jackel stopped walking. It was hard to miss one of the mages, wrapped in a patched cloak and sitting on a stump near someone's tent. She had seen this one around, staring blankly at the floor or the wall. That was if they didn't start crying. They did that a lot.

She hated crying.

“Come on, Trevelyan. You need to eat something.”

An older mage was trying to force a bowl of something that smelled terrible into stumpy's bandaged hands. Actually... they were looking kind of rough. Their whole forehead was wrapped in bandages, now that Jackel was getting a better look. Add in the shaking hands, and she got the feeling she was watching a shell shocked circle mage adjust badly.

“I'm f-” tears welled in hazel eyes and were soon threatening to freeze. “Damn it all, I don't want to start crying again!”

Their voice cracked as the tears spilled down their wind-ruddied cheeks. Jackel's eyebrow cocked as she watched them furiously scrub at their face. It didn't stop the tears, but it did look pretty pathetic to anyone who was watching.

Which they weren't. It didn't take a genius to see the mages were avoiding looking at their fellow. They all had a look on their faces that made her stomach turn. Pity; she hated that more than anything. Judging by how the mage's face kept screwing up, they didn't like it much either.

Not that it was any of her business. She had Kaaras to find.

…

Yep, she had...

Fuck.

Something about that pathetic mage sitting there on a stump was doing awful things to Jackel. Already kicking herself, she changed direction towards the mage encampment. At the sight of her, some of them backed away. Stumpy didn't do anything except keep trying to dry their face.

“Are they picking on you?”

She went in childlike, better to observe. Her target stopped wiping their eyes and sniffed back mucus. They were older than her, but probably younger than 25. That should have suggested a Harrowed mage, but the robes were different, plainer. They weren't the apprentice kind either – plenty of awkward teens and young adults wearing those to know the difference. These were just... they told her nothing.

“Oh, uh, no, s-sorry. I uh-” tears appeared in their eyes again. “Damn it, when is that going to stop?!”

And then the mage started sobbing, hands pressed to their face. Jackel glanced upwards, towards the mage with the stew. They sighed, and a ladle went back into a pot. They then gently took her by the shoulder and guided her out of human earshot.

Normally she stabbed people for this, but her curiosity was eating away at her.

“Don't mind Trevelyan, kid.” Their voice dropped. “She's uh... she is – was? Honestly I don't know... but do you know what the Tranquil are?”

A cold shudder passed through Jackel's body. She had seen a few of them in camp, sporting burned foreheads and speaking in monotone. They were the mages who were no longer mages, cut off from the Fade as a way for the Circle to exert control over them. The ocularum were made from their skulls, or so a shaking Kaaras had told her after a bad mission.

Were they keeping her for a backup?

Still, the mage was waiting for an answer. She picked up her pitch just a little. “I thought Tranquil didn't cry.”

“Yeah, so did I.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the crunching  of feet on ice. Jackel turned to see Trevelyan there, wiping off her ruddy face with a sopping wet sleeve. Well, more like an icy one at this rate – the temperatures were dropping.

“I-I'm fine. Really.” Her voice shook still. “I think I saw you with the qunari man with the swords earlier? H-He...”

She sniffed again. “He was looking for you. I think I still know where he is if you want me to take you to him.”

Jackel wasn't sure what was more pathetic, that this mage who barely had it together was offering to help her, or that her disguise was so good that she seemed like she needed it. She should have said no, but there was something so damn sad about it that she almost felt a need to put one in the win column for this sad excuse for a mage.

Was she developing a sense of giving a fuck about humans? Perish the thought.

“Yeah, ok. Josie wanted to see him anyway. Lead the way.”

Together, the two left the mage encampment. The elf didn't miss the sigh of relief as her guide passed, nor how rigid her shoulders got whenever they grew near to someone. Tears were still beading in her eyes, but not quite icing up. She was trying.

It was still sad, but it was an effort none the less.

“My name's Jackel by the way, what's yours?”

After all, she couldn't keep calling her the sad sack stump sorcerer, now could she?

Trevelyan shrugged her shoulders. “Aeronwen. Nobody calls me that though. I guess I picked a bad one.”

She offered an awkward smile studded by tears. “They used to call me Trevy before everything happened, s-so if you want-”

And then she was crying again. “Damn it all, I'm not sad I swear!”

Trevy rubbed uselessly at her face again. When her hand brushed against the heavy bandages around her forehead, she winced and that caused even more tears. Jackel watched all of this without saying anything. After all, what could she say? Sorry you were made Tranquil and you seem to be coming out of it? Was that even a thing?

Had a mage even looked her over?

“Shit...” Trevy hiccuped back a sob as she scowled. “Sorry, Jackel. I don't think you're allowed to use that word.”

Jackel rolled her eyes in response. “I can use whatever damn word I want, have you seen a healer or what?”

Ok, maybe she was breaking character, but fuck it. Even she had limits.

At least the mage didn't look too surprised as she dried her eyes. “I had a feeling you were lying. Dalish elves have facial tattoos when they're adults.”

What a surprise, someone who actually knew something. Jackel had to admit she was impressed, especially considering Trevy probably spent a shit ton of years holed up in a tower. Then again, she probably just read all the time – the thought of it made her stomach turn.

Books, all day with nothing else to break up the monotony? Fuck that, it was her own personal nightmare.

Jackel responded by landing on Trevy's shoulder with a solid jump. Much to her displeasure, the mage was bony. Someone wasn't eating enough. Maybe that was why she fished one of her stolen chocolates out of her pocket and tossed it down.

“Don't tell Josephine where you got it from and I can cut you in.”

Trevy's trembling fingers soon popped the candy into her mouth. She chewed quietly, as if she was mulling it over. At least it helped her stop crying long enough for her face to dry off. The wind helped too – it tugged at both their clothes and the mage's unnaturally white hair.

“Alright, but what do you want in return? You don't seem the type to just be nice for nothing.”

It wasn't often that Jackel was caught off guard, much less rendered speechless. Apparently, she had been watched while she was doing the watching. Color her impressed for real this time. This one was alright.

Still... “It's cold out. My feet hurt.”

“Right, the Dalish aren't big on shoes.” Tears trickled down Trevy's face as she kept walking. “Well, you keep my neck warm.”

Jackel nodded as she spotted the house up ahead that probably held her cousin. “Sounds like we have an agreement then, Trevy.”

“I do work in the library some days, so I won't be available then.” Of course she did. “Any other time, sure. Now, let's go find Kaaras for you.”

And off they went, Jackel with her stolen chocolate and Trevy with her frozen tears and eye for details. If she didn't know better, the elf would have said it felt like it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. But she wasn't Varric, and she couldn't read anyway so it didn't matter.

She put those thoughts aside, however. Kaas needed finding, and then the mage who was guiding her around needed to go see a proper healer about that burned forehead and sudden need to cry her damn eyes out.

Good thing she had stolen a couple extra pieces. She got the feeling it was going to be a long day.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Skillshare said draw girls... so I drew girls.

First time I ever drew Jackel and Trevy, so they’re the roughest. Avery, I know what that spindly little fucker looks like...

[ramblinganthropologist]

Inktober Day 11 - Cruel

Summary: The residents of Skyhold are awoken one night by the sounds of alarm. What’s going on? Are they under attack? That’s what Ian Trevelyan and his cousin are soon to find out as they enter into Skyhold’s dark night. 

---

Midnight. It was time.

Kaaras took a deep breath as he stood at the top of Skyhold's tallest towers. From there, he could see the dim lights of the courtyard below. Right now it was empty except for a few guards that milled around. It was a quiet night, with the only noise coming from the Herald's Rest. Apart from that, most people were either fast asleep or settling in for some rest. There was nothing remarkable about the night as it laid thick around them.

At least not yet.

He looked towards the guard standing by him, waiting. “You can start now. Thanks for your help.”

“At once, Inquisitor.” Was there a gleam in their eye? Maybe he was about to be party to some payback. But Kaaras didn't mind as he shifted his position, scanning the horizon. In a few seconds, it was going to get interesting.

He could only begin to imagine how well Skyhold's first drill would go. Hopefully, well enough he wouldn't be murdered in the morning.

---

It was the loud, pounding noise of an alarm that rocketed Ian from his sleep that night. He wasn't due to wake up until an hour after sunrise to start his work in the library, but the piercing screech almost shook him out of his bed. He peered around, half blind in the darkness, and grabbed for the staff he kept by his pillow. An alarm couldn't mean anything good.

He only had time to pull his boots on, leaving him shirtless in the chill of night. Outside his room, the other mages of the tower were making their way to the exit in a similar state of dress. Ian didn't follow them. Instead, he went up the stairs two at a time to a room that had its door closed. Luckily, it wasn't locked.

“Aery, I'm coming in.”

Inside, the bed's occupant was sitting up and staring into the darkness. Trevy yawned as he entered, still  half tangled in her blanket. She was barefoot and barely moving. It would take her at least five more minutes to wake up fully. Whether that was because of the brand burned into her forehead or just her nature, Ian wasn't sure. But she wouldn't be good to anyone like this.

“Ian? What's-” another yawn. “It's loud.”

He found her boots next to her bed. “Not sure. Come on, get into your shoes and cloak. We need to get out of here.”

“Ok.” Normally she would've asked if it was an attack. But she was just too tired and was easily moved into a more decent state of dress. At least Trevy managed to grab her own staff, though she probably wouldn't be able to do much with it. Ian took her free hand, and together the two of them brought up the rear of the mages leaving the tower. Out into the cold night they went, unsure of what was going on.

It didn't sound like an attack, but that didn't mean much of anything.

Ian guided his cousin not towards the tight group of mages, but to a lone figure off to the side that waved him over. Standing by the high wall that enclosed Skyhold's courtyard was Akri, arms crossed over his bare chest. Apart from his  short staff and a pair of small clothes, he was basically naked. It made the human shiver, but that also may have been because he wasn't wearing a shirt either.

“Either of you know what the fuck is going on?”

Akri sounded as tired as he felt. Ian shrugged his shoulders as he looked around. “Hell if I know. What do your elf eyes see?”

His companion snorted as he glanced around in the darkness. “Real cute, Trevelyan. Mostly I see a bunch of idiots standing around without much clothes on. Jackel should be back soon to let me know if she found out anything.”

Ian frowned as he tried to pick anything out. The sky wasn't on fire or spitting out demons, so that was a good sign. The guards didn't look too worried either, so that was another. He didn't hear people dying – a third sign that pointed to an all clear- but that didn't solve his question. Why the hell were they all standing around?

“Have either of you seen Kaaras?”

A new voice drew both men's attention. Dorian had found them, looking rumpled and like he would prefer to be asleep. They all were, but he was particularly unsuited to the cold. He was shivering a little,  but he looked to be ok. Seeing him, though, made Ian glad he was a Marcher. He could at least take it a little better.

Akri was the one to answer, still peering around. “Nope, haven't seen him. Would've thought he was with you, pretty boy.”

“He had his own work to handle tonight.” The other mage shot him a look. “We don't spend every night together, you know.”

“Sure feels like it.”

Ian felt a tension headache coming on, so he stuck his staff between the two of them in the hopes to clear the air. The way they were going, they might start a fight. He was definitely not in the mood to settle that, especially when he was barely dressed. That was just asking for trouble.

“Come on, you two. Save it for the morning.”

They both glared, but backed off. Ian breathed a sigh of relief as he settled in. Next to him, Trevy seemed to be a little more awake. She let go of his hand to pull her cloak a little tighter. Maybe the cold had sharpened her senses.

“Anyone want to tell me why we're all standing around in our pajamas?”

Yep, she was awake. Thank the Maker.

Even better, Akri's shoulders bounced a little as Jackel settled in. The elf looked fit to be tied, and she was glaring towards the tower she had no doubt come from. When she looked like that, people definitely tended to wind up dead. Hopefully, it wasn't anyone they knew.

“Find anything out?”

Jackel swore in elvhen, so Ian couldn't make heads or tails of it besides the name of the goddess who marked her face. “Yeah. Kaas set this bullshit up.”

What bullshit it was she left unsaid. Luckily, she didn't need to say it – the crowd was turning to shift towards the stairs. Ian squinted to make it out, an realized that Kaaras was indeed standing there. He was still fully dressed too, the bastard.

The Inquisitor cleared his throat as he faced the unruly mob. “Right, well... sorry for waking you, but thank you all for participating in Skyhold's first evacuation drill. From what I've heard so far, nobody died getting out. I'd call that a success.”

He didn't laugh. Nobody did. It was a miracle nobody aimed an arrow at him – Sera looked to be ready to do so from where she stood. Luckily, she had forgotten her arrows. Maybe Kaaras had been counting on that.

The qunari rubbed the back of his neck with his anchor hand. “I'll... keep this short so you can go back to bed. This is just to get you ready in case anything shows up in the middle of the night. If you know what to do half asleep, you'll be ready for anything.”

He clapped his hands together. “Right... well, I'm going to run before you all try to kill me. Goodnight, everyone.”

That was a smart move, judging from the mood in the crowd. Still, his words echoed as Ian stood there in the chill. He had goosebumps, but it wasn't from the cold. Instead, he was thinking back to a dark night that he would rather much forget.

Of course this was about Haven. Why else?

“You know he could've done this after dinner or something and gotten the same result. We were attacked then.” Akri had all the tact of a lump of wood as he started trudging back to wherever he had been sleeping. “I'm going back to bed. We can make plans for murdering my brother in the morning.”

“I already have three plans.”

“Excellent. I want in, Jack.”

The crowd started to disperse after that. Ian eventually headed back too, Trevy following behind him. Neither of them had really said anything. However, they shared a look as they grabbed each other's hand.

At least there was no attack tonight. It was just a drill. Just... a drill. But with any luck, the residents of Skyhold wouldn't need what they had learned on a dark night like this so long ago. It would just be an annoyance and something to grumble about in the morning.

Ian could at least hope for that. The last thing they needed was another Haven. Skyhold had been hard enough to find.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Inktober 2 - Tranquil

Summary: It’s been a year. Trevy revisits the spot that changed her life and reflects. Also her head hurts. Oww.

Redcliffe. It hadn't changed much since Trevy had last been there. The docks still smelled like fish, the Fereldens still had dogs, and the castle up on the hill still made people whisper about zombies. In all, your typical Ferelden town, give or take some walking corpses.

“I don't know what smells more, the fish or the dogs.” Ian's grin was painted on more than usual as they threaded their way through the crowd. It was somewhat easier for her – she stood a good head above the average Ferelden – but he had to fight through the path she kept making. “What do you think?”

“Huh?”

Trevy blinked a few times before she registered that her cousin had actually said anything. “Oh, uh, sorry. Probably the fish.”

Her eyes were on the stone building up ahead, weathered and ancient looking compared to the wooden structures that surrounded it. The locals had done well to patch it up after the last time they had been through, but the wear still showed. Of course, it would probably be there long after any of their bones were dust in the wind, so maybe there was something to being a little rough around the edges.

Ian tugged lightly on her sleeve as they climbed the short hill that would lead them to the entrance of Redcliffe's chantry. “Are... you sure you want to go in? We can skip it if you want. The library's up in the castle anyway.”

It probably would have been smarter to skip it, maybe even easier. However, Trevy never stopped from the path worn down by generations of the faithful seeking salvation. Instead, her hand tightened on the wooden railing someone had erected since the last time she had been there.

“No... I want to go in.”

The skull face never changed. “Alright, if that's what you want. Just let me know if it gets too much for you.”

As they walked, a light breeze blew the gold and scarlet leaves from a nearby tree and into their path. Fall was settling into Ferelden as it did every year – soon the countryside would be awash in reds and yellows before the bite of winter shook it to the bone. For a brief month, it would be like the whole town was on fire.

Well, not literally. It had already been on fire once and the residents really hadn't cared for it much.

The ancient door didn't protest when Trevy pushed it open. Instead, it slid open without a sound on well-oiled hinges probably taken care of by some nameless brother. Unlike the chantries in the big cities like Val Royeaux, inside was much simpler. There was stone and wood, with the gleaming glow of the brazier at the front of the temple being the point of focus besides a small statue of Andraste. It was a new one – the last one had broken clean in half.

Partially, that was her fault, but nobody blamed her.

Ian started to head for a nearby pew, but he was never the praying type. “I'll be over here until you finish up.”

“Thank you. I don't think I'll be long.”

Her head was already aching as she walked not towards the altar or the sacred flame, but to a smaller offset of the room. Trevy instead sat in front of the nearby pillar without saying a world. Instead, she just stared at the beam holding up part of the roof. A year later, and it still bore the scorch marks. If she squinted, she could see the marks on the floor too.

It would probably be impossible to get those totally out. So, maybe it wasn't the only thing permanently marked.

Trevy winced as her forehead pulsed, maybe out of memory or just dumb luck. She raised her hand to it, cool fingers pressing against the scarred skin. Even though it was over a half decade old, the sunburst branded into her forehead still felt red hot whenever she touched it. She couldn't really remember getting it, just what came after.

Five long, torturous years under the brand, undone in a moment by a pair of idiots who had no idea what they were doing with time magic. She could never thank them enough.

The brand pulsed as if it knew she was thinking about it. It brought tears to her eyes, and she wiped them away with the hem of her sleeve. Ever since she had woken from the walking dream, it hurt. Maybe it had hurt while she slept, but she had no memory of it. Maybe that was a gift from the Maker. Of course, she didn't really believe in them, not anymore anyway. Who would want to believe in someone who caused you so much pain?

Besides Andraste, she didn't count.

“Happy anniversary to me.” Trevy whispered under her breath, not sure why she was muttering at all. Apart from a lay sister off to the side keeping a less than friendly watch on them, the chantry was empty. It wouldn't fill again until the evening prayers, and by then they would be long gone and on the road back to Skyhold. It was just them... and a lot of bad memories.

Though she tried to block them out, some still slipped through in her quiet moments when she had nothing to occupy herself. They came in fits and spurts, flashes of memories that stung worse than the brand. They had only started to lose their bite, but their fangs still sunk deep. Maybe they always would – it wasn't like she knew anyone else in her condition to compare notes with. Now they had more color, more sound. At the same time, she was learning to reroute them. It was a slow process, almost as painful as the brand itself, but it was working.

Just... it was slow. And some nights it kept her up. She had lost track of how many nights she had laid awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling with tears in her eyes unable to do anything but remind herself it wasn't happening anymore. Lately, they had been even more intense as if her brain was keeping track of it as well. With any luck, it would forget. Or at least, cut her some slack because it was exhausted.

She really didn't function well when tired. Controlling her emotions and the magic that came with them was hard enough when she was well-rested. More than once she had become overly emotional with someone in the library or in the commons. The outbursts were happening less, but they still shook her when they happened. At least... well, people understood.

Trevy wasn't sure how long she sat there, staring at nothing but that scorched wall. Maybe it was a minute, or maybe it was a lifetime. Every time she blinked, she swore she saw the day as if she was still living in it. The pillar had been her hiding place as everything went to hell in a violent green hand basket. Though she didn't remember being knocked out, waking up with a bleeding forehead and sobbing her eyes out had been... less than pleasant. Still, every look brought her back, as if it was trying to drag her back to the past. Perhaps it was the magic that had been left there, or her own addled brain trying to reason things out.

Right then, she wasn’t sure why she had decided to return to the chantry. Maybe she thought coming back would make things clearer, but instead it just made her head hurt.A lot of things did that, but most of them she avoided. This one... well, it felt impossible, like she needed to return. So, there she was, like a complete idiot.

Finally, she sighed and stood. Ian almost immediately joined her as the two turned to the exit and the fall day waiting outside for them. The breath of fresh air and cool breeze did wonders for her headache, though not much else. It would have been rude to expect more out of it. After all, it was only wind.

“You feeling ok?” Ian kept by her side as they threaded through the crowds to where they had entered the village. “I mean... you know.”

Trevy offered him a brief smile. “I'll... be fine, I think. Not really sure how to feel at the moment.”

Her cousin nudged her side, a similar smile peeking out from under the dark makeup he had slathered all over his face. It played at odds with the grinning skull, but something about it made her feel a little more at ease. Not totally, but it was better.

“Don't worry about it. How about we grab a snack before we hit the road? I think I saw honey cakes in the market.”

If it was a bribe, Trevy didn't mind. She was more than happy to be led through the busy streets of Redcliffe by her cousin, disturbing the golden leaves that had fluttered to the ground before they got there. It was a lovely day for it. And best of all, she could finally appreciate it once more. Maybe in time it wouldn't hurt as much to look back. But until then, at least she wasn't alone.

Maybe that was the best part of all. Well, that and those honey cakes. She was kind of hungry.