#Surana could but probably wouldn't

[pinkfadespirit]

"It wouldn't be the same without you" for Anders/Karl.

This was sent by @spicywarl0ck (thank you!) but I was thinking that I had already written something similar for this pairing and probably wouldn't answer it, then as soon as I hit delete, this idea popped into my head 😅

This is set in a modern AU that I have started writing but haven't published yet. It takes place many years earlier than that fic, when Anders and Karl are still teenagers.

for @dadrunkwriting

Anders had lost track of the number of times his gaze had flicked up to the clock on the wall only to realise that he had barely made a dent in the hour he was expected to spend stuck in this stuffy classroom. His friends were all already free to do what they wished with the rest of their Friday afternoon, while Anders was supposed to be doing his maths homework. His exercise book was open on the desk in front of him but the only thing he’d made any progress on so far was a rather brilliant doodle of a tiger biting off his teacher’s head. The tiger’s name was Ser Pounce-A-Lot. He was a noble beast.

The seconds ticked by and seemed to last minutes. It was just hard to focus on much else when he knew exactly what he was missing out on. It was a glorious summer day and Anders could hear the chatter and laughter of people congregating outside, probably debating what to do with their freedom.

There would be a party tonight, down by Lake Calenhad, and Anders’ friends had planned to get there early to enjoy a sunny afternoon by lake. They’d even managed to secure a lift there for all of them. They’d had it all perfectly planned out until Anders landed himself in detention. 

There was still a chance he’d find some other means of travel but he’d had no luck so far, and their lift had no intention of waiting around for them. Surana and Karl and the rest would just have to go and have fun without him he supposed. 

Anders thought about it and added some more gore to the doodle of his teacher and Ser Pounce-A-Lot. 

Another glance at the clock told him that time was still moving impossibly slowly.

He’d just turned his attention back to his exercise book when the door to the classroom opened. When he looked up, he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. What was Karl doing here when he was supposed to be off having fun?

“Yes. What is it?” asked Miss Rylock impatiently.

“Mr Irving wanted to speak to you, Miss. He said it’s important and he needs you right away.”

Rylock scowled. “Did he say what it was about?”

“No, Miss. Only that he wouldn’t keep you long.”

She didn’t look happy about it but got to her feet all the same. Any other student and Anders wondered if she would have even considered buying it, but Karl’s reputation was spotless. He would never dream of lying to a teacher. At least that’s what Anders had always thought.

She glared at Anders and the other handful of students in detention with him. “No trouble while I’m gone,” she said in a voice that was convincingly threatening. “I will know if there is.”

As soon as she was out of the room, Karl gave Anders a significant look and Anders was already out of his chair, shoving his books into his bag. A few of the others were giving him uncertain looks, as though considering following suit but perhaps a little more convinced by Rylock’s threats. It wasn't as though Anders wasn't but he was willing to deal with the consequences later if it meant following Karl out that door right now.

They waited just long enough for Rylock to get out of sight, then ran for it, slowing only when spotted by a teacher who scolded them for running in the halls but seemed unaware of the real rule breaking taking place. 

They only stopped once they were outside, breathing hard and laughing in exhilaration. 

“Maker, Karl,” Anders got out between breaths. “I can't believe you did that!”

“Neither can I to be honest,” said Karl with a sheepish grin. 

“You're going to be in as much trouble as me when Rylock realises. Why would you risk that?”

Karl shrugged, looking embarrassed. “You just looked so disappointed that you weren't going to be able to come with us today. I didn't want you to be left out.”

It was so sweet and so unexpected that Anders didn't know what to say. Karl was still flushed with exertion and didn't seem to know where to look. Anders had the urge to hug him but couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

“You didn't have to, you know. You could have just gone ahead to the party with Surana and the others. You didn't need to worry about me.”

“I know but…” Karl shrugged then looked shyly up at him. “It wouldn't have been the same without you.”

Anders felt his face grow hot in a way that had nothing to do with the bright sunshine beating down over them. For the longest time Anders had kept his feelings for Karl to himself (well, not entirely, because Surana knew, which meant that Jowan also knew) convinced that someone as sweet and smart and good as Karl would never fall for a troublemaker like Anders. But now for the first time, he wondered if he might have been mistaken about that. Suddenly his heart started to beat faster, the blood roaring in his head, where all coherent thought had disappeared. He was so full of hope he felt dizzy with it. 

All he could think to say was, “Thank you.”

Karl smiled sweetly back at him and Anders’ heart kept on beating just a little too fast. “Any time.” A pause, then, “Come on. We might still be able to get that lift from Solona’s brother if we hurry.”

With a giddy feeling inside him, they both took off running again. 

[aly-the-writer]

Thinking about the mage rebellion and Fereldan. My main Warden is a Surana that sticks Alistair with the throne so I never really gave it much thought about why Ferelden's ruler would accept the rebellion.

But I replayed and something stuck out to me: Connor was frustrated about them being in Redcliffe. He asks how that could be seen to be a good idea. And honestly? Given that the Wardens rule Amaranthine and it's a major point of entry from the sea it wouldn't be that hard to have set Fiona's people there and gotten fewer side eyes by the locals. They're used to Wardens, mages ain't that weird in comparison. Especially after the Warden-Commander let a possessed corpse follow them home from the swamp like a lost mabari.

But Ferelden has a population problem. Lots of dead young men and women just at Ostagar, let alone the southern hills, the bannorn via the rebellion, and Denerim. And the survivors of the Siege at Denerim would have had high chances of Blight Sicknesses, there were probably epidemics following 9:31. That would have crippled the fighting population. That doesn't even count that a lot of the refugees who made it to the Marches and elsewhere never returned.

Redcliffe is the fortified gateway to Ferelden from the /Orlesian/ border. The same Orlais that certain powers (Gaspard) want to return to being an expanding empire.

Celene's hold was weak. Weak enough the Inquisitor could arrange to break it entirely.

The Chantry is primarily Orlesian and that would give the mages a reason to not want Orlesian control if it came down to Gaspard as Emperor bringing chevaliers back across the Frostbacks.

I don't think Ferelden took the mages in out of generosity. At least not entirely. I think they saw a chance to add a significant military force to their country if their gamble paid off - and that's why Teagan agreed. Unfortunately for the rebellion the Tevinter thing is a definite point of no return - the mages weren't loyal enough to their own cause, to where they were, to continue the risk of keeping them.

[crossdressingdeath]

Thinking about the Chantry and the Amaranthine Wardens being in a really tense ongoing standoff from either as soon as the Warden takes their post (if they're from a group the Chantry Does Not Approve Of) or from as soon as the Anders stuff really kicks off, right the way through to DAI and beyond.

I mean, the Warden might well hate the Chantry, especially if you're playing Surana/Amell (because Circles) or Mahariel (because Exalted March), but also just if they got on well with Anders and/or Justice. But the thing is that the Warden can't really openly act against the Chantry as a whole, because it's the dominant religion and has a habit of calling holy wars on anyone who tells it to piss off. Weisshaupt wouldn't help because Weisshaupt is run by jackasses, and while Alistair doesn't much care for the Chantry neither possible monarch would want to bring an Exalted March down on Ferelden by picking a fight. And Hero of Ferelden or no, the Warden's only got a handful of people who would absolutely join them in trying to kick the shit out of the Chantry, so actively going after them would end poorly. But on the flip side the Chantry can't openly target the Hero of Ferelden, because that would absolutely spark uprisings. The people of Ferelden adore their hero. Plus, the king of Orzammar owes the Warden his crown and the Chantry can't risk pissing off the dwarves and losing access to the lyrium supply. And one of their best friends is the Left Hand of the Divine and is terrifying. And another one of their best friends is the fucking Arishok, who probably wouldn't speed up the invasion plans to avenge his fallen kadan, but does the Chantry really want to risk that? Absolutely not, they aren't stupid. And if the Chantry openly fucked with their most visible and well-loved member without some serious provocation, the other Grey Wardens might actually step in. So the Chantry can't touch the Warden so long as the Warden doesn't give them incontrovertible evidence that they're actively plotting against the Chantry. So basically Amaranthine and the Chantry have spent the last decade totally deadlocked, because the Chantry can't do anything to the Warden without risking some serious, possibly devastating backlash and the Warden can't do anything to the Chantry without giving them an excuse to crush the Ferelden Wardens as they've undoubtedly wanted to do for years. They're basically just being nuisances to each other whenever possible because anything more could risk Consequences.

[contreparry]

Hello!! Happy Friday :) For the characters of your choice... “I just — I’m breathless, okay? Whenever I’m with you, it happens.” Happy writing!

I desperately wanted to write some more Surana and Zevran from the corporate espionage AU, so here they are! I'm so sorry for being so self-indulgent. @dadrunkwriting

Zevran took one look at him, shook his head, and dragged him out of his cramped office. He must have really looked like shit, Bran mused as Zevran casually draped his arm over his shoulders (Creators, his coat had to have cost more than Bran's rent) and swept him out of the door and into the autumn evening. The sun was just beginning to set, and the sky was streaked with gold. A breeze ruffled Bran's hair, strands falling into his eyes. He needed a haircut. Even Leliana (who tried to be kind about these sorts of things) said his dead-ends were "alarming."

"Where are we going?" Bran asked as Zevran escorted him off campus.

"Dinner," Zevran said crisply as he scanned the signs hanging off of the brick buildings that lined the street. "Something more filling than instant noodles." He said instant noodles like they were a curse, and Bran rolled his eyes.

What sort of dinner did Zevran have in mind? Their friendship was odd by any standard of measurement. Bran never quite knew what to expect out of Zevran, truth be told. He was... unquantifiable. In a good way, he was quick to amend as guilt flooded his stomach and twisted it into knots. Zevran was strange, but a pleasant strange. Bran didn't quite understand why Zevran chose to spend time with a scruffy alchemist when he could do whatever it was beautiful socialites did, but he liked being around him all the same.

"They're cheap," Bran argued, and he eyed the cuff of Zevran's coat warily. Dinner with Zevran probably wouldn't be as cheap as his cup of noodles in the pantry.

"And a sodium bomb. It can't be good for you," Zevran replied easily.

"I like a lot of things that aren't good for me," Bran retorted. An odd expression shuttered across Zevran's face, a little flicker of something that wasn't "vaguely amused" or "flirtatious." If Bran were to put words to it, he might say that it seemed... pained.

"Noted," Zevran replied, his voice dry as the leaves under their feet. "But today you're having something... good. My treat."

At Bran's hesitation Zevran turned and smiled, revealing his perfect teeth.

"I insist," he said, and Bran really didn't have anything he could say to dissuade him. When Zevran raised his brows and halted, clearly waiting for a response, Bran scowled and tried to walk faster. Yet Zevran matched his strides perfectly, and his smile only grew wider as Bran grew more flustered.

"Are you quite well, my friend? You seem flushed."

“I just — I’m breathless, okay? Whenever I’m with you, it happens," Bran replied. "Being around you is bad for my health." Asthma, perhaps, or the change in the weather was affecting him. Perhaps there were coastal plants with high pollen counts at this time of the year. He'd have to look into that. Zevran was making that face again, a brief spasm of pain flashing across his features and twisting them for only a moment before he seemed to be himself again.

"Is that so?" he murmured before guiding Bran down a sidestreet. "I'll have to make up for it, then."

[echthr0s]

Diablo IV's free-to-lvl20 trial week is not nearly enough for me to make a proper judgement on Diablo IV, and of course even at 50% off I can't afford to buy it right now (I otherwise would have, probably, because I'm a sucker and also because see below screenshot), but this is how I feel about it now that I have finally had a chance to form my own opinion:

you know, as much as I fucking hate that half (HALF) the nearly-100gb download is due to the insane size of high-resolution textures, at least they let me choose to forgo downloading them (if I were actually buying the game, I'd put up with it, but I don't need my free trial to be on fucking Ultra lmao)

that is one of my new favourite opening cutscenes (also doing the Leo Dicaprio point at the poor scholar guy. hey! I know you. what other know-yet-more ass motherfucker would be in that particular position but my Can Calah)

*playing* hmm. this feels familia-- ooooh, I see, so Diablo Immortal truly was a preview of non-mobile releases to come :/

genuinely interested in the storyline, which opens me up for typical Blizzard disappointment, but at least I wouldn't be surprised if it started flagging in Act 2 or 3

Traversals is cute

I tried a couple of dungeons and I did like the way they were laid out. class-specific boss drops is interesting

dunno how I feel about the skill trees yet (I did think having a separate tree for skeletal summons was intriguing) but at least it seems to remain somewhere in between overly simplistic and batshit inscrutable. also yay I still get to explode corpses (listen. that is always my main attack as necro LOL 💀💥💀💥💀💥)

not gonna lie, this is the main thing that makes me wish I could keep playing:

character creation! I got to make a nearly true-to-life Anansi Surana! for the first time in any game! confused about the body sizes, though; I get the impression that you can be fat but only if you're a Barbarian or a Druid?? like, okay. again, typical Blizz type shit, but lol. whatever. hi, Anansi! let's go explode some corpses!

[scarletinkthelibrarian]

Zevranholics OC Kiss Week - "Peste and Vipera"

Renata Calabria didn't make mistakes.

Renata Calabria got through her Crow training because she was smart and calculating.

Renata Calabria always had a backup plan for all her backup plans.

Renata Calabria was currently curled up in a corner of a warehouse, a stab wound in her left side sapping away at her strength as it kept bleeding and her ears strained in the attempt to hear if anyone was coming to finish the job.

No one.

Except for a mouse that was scurrying right toward her, apparently thinking that it wasn't too early to start a feast just because she wasn't a corpse yet.

Luckily for the mouse, it turned into Manwë Surana just before she threw a dagger at her and raised her hands to show she didn't carry weapons - except for the staff strapped on her back and her magic, of course.

"Waitwaitwait, it's just me!" The mage whispered, her eyes shooting to Renata's bleeding side and widening up as she assessed the damage, while a globe of white fire started floating next to her, lighting up their small corner a little better.

On several things, Renata could say that she and Manwë were very similar: where she was a prodigy with her poisons, the other was with magic - apparently the little Perfect Mage Girl of her Circle, once upon a time. Both hard workers, with a manic energy taking possession of them when they concentrated on some big project.

And one thing right now she surely appreciated that they shared was the ability to stay calm under duress and think with cold blood.

"Did you get poisoned?" she was asking, already kneeling by her side to check her wound, carefully peeling off her makeshift bandage from it while her white fire moved closer.

Renata couldn't keep herself from flinching a little away, but the other woman didn't give a sign of having noticed.

"N-no, the blades were regular, it's just a really deep stab."

"And the color of the wound looks normal." The other concluded, reaching for her belt to take out a flask of healing potion and passing it to her. "It's not enough to heal you completely, but it should stop the hemorrhage, for now."

Having said that, the mage turned her back to her and peeked over the crate they were hiding behind, in guard in case anyone entered the warehouse while Renata was recovering. 

And someone less prepared than Renata probably wouldn't have noticed how she subtly took a little flask of a bright blue liquid out of the pockets of her robe and quickly gobbled it down.

Manwë Surana didn't like taking lyrium.

Renata knew that Manwë Surana preferred to let her mana reserves replenish themselves naturally. She knew that the mage was scaringly good at managing her magic and that she only drank lyrium whenever she really couldn't see any other way out of a situation.

Manwë Surana just drank lyrium and her staff started lighting up with sparks.

"Are you good?"

Her wound closed up: she was still weak, but she could manage to walk.

The mage used her staff as support while passing an arm around her shoulders, helping her up. 

"I'll use a cloaking spell, it should hold up long enough for us to sneak out, or, more easily, hide us until the cavalry arrives, but I need you to stick to me and make no sound, okay?"

"Who is the rogue here, you or me?"

That last quip earned her a break in Manwë's composure: the mage's lips stretched to one side in a half smile, her green eyes finding her dark ones.

And then, she pressed her lips to her temple.

"Great job in the dining hall, vipera."

Grandmaster Diocletia of House Veneto used to be a careful woman.

If you want to move on in ranks as an Antivan Crow being careful is one of the bases and Diocletia was really careful.

Especially now that there was a Black Shadow hanging over the heads of the whole organization.

Considering that she was now a bloated, purplish corpse in the middle of her own dining hall, she apparently wasn't so careful as to consider that someone could coat the rim of her cup with poison, rather than put it in her food.

She may have still gotten a knife embedded in her side, but Renata did her job, as her proud smirk said.

"Let's get out of here, peste."

----

For @snarky-bee, in honour of the Zevranholics Discord server's OC Kiss Week, here is my drabble featuring my Manwë Surana and her Renata Calabria!

As an Italian whose paternal side of the family comes exactly from the region of Calabria, seeing an OC who had it as a surname immediately sparked my interest and reading up about her just made me even more convinced about writing my Warden interact with her.

I just hope I didn't mess it up too badly, I admit not being really good at writing other people's characters. ^^'

P.S.: "Vipera" and "Peste" means respectively "viper" and "pest", referring affectionately to Renata's expertise with poisons and antidotes and Manwë's shapeshifting ability which allows her to infiltrate pretty much anywhere, like a pest. ^^

[liza011]

Happy DADWC can I get Zevran and "frost" as the prompt?

16. Frost (Zevran/m!Surana)

Rating: T

For @dadrunkwriting.

@realace Thanks for the prompt.

_

Zevran joined Aiden at the shooting range inside the palace courtyard. Even though both their faces were covered with scarves to keep them protected from the biting cold, Aiden could see that Zevran was smiling, the soft, tanned skin around his amber eyes every so slightly wrinkled. The sight was breathtaking.

"Your eyelashes have frost on them," Zevran chuckled. "It looks beautiful."

Aiden was still taken aback every time Zevran complimented him.

"Thank you." He wondered if he'd ever get used to them. He liked them, but sometimes he thought he didn't deserve them.

"Remember to keep your elbow up," Zevran reminded Aiden as he drew his bow.

He did and fired. He hit the target off-center.

"Not bad," Zevran said.

Aiden laughed. "I don't think we're seeing the same thing."

"It landed." There was admiration in his tone. "If there was poison on that arrow, they would drop. It wouldn't matter it wasn't a killing shot."

"I won't always have poison on hand," Aiden remarked.

"You mean you can just conjure some?"

"Not any that I can put on an arrow, no."

"Well if that is so," Zevran pulled an arrow from Aiden's quiver, "take another shot. Aim lower and further to the right than you think you need. You're still a bit shaky on release."

With Zevran's help, he got closer and closer to hitting the bull's eye.

"Last arrow. Think you'll get it?" Zevran teased.

"Probably not."

"I like that you're keeping your expectations realistic," Zevran told him.

Aiden aimed, drew his bow and fired.

He didn't hit the bull's eye, but he had gotten close.

"Want to have a go as well?" Aiden asked and moved to retrieve the arrows.

"Of course, especially since you love watching me."

"That I do."

When Aiden returned to him and handed him the quiver, Zevran placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, my love."

Aiden stilled at the touch and forgot to breathe for a moment. "You're welcome."

"I find it fascinating that I have such an effect on you still, even after all this time," Zevran chuckled.

"You always will. You're so good to me."

Zevran hugged him, then took his place at the range.

Aiden watched him shoot, repeatedly hitting the bull's eye until he had no arrows left.

Zevran took a bow. "I hope you are impressed."

"I am."

"Good. Now let's go back inside before your eyelashes aren't the only thing that freezes."

[trans-ruffboi]

Gilded and Alight

so this is a prequel to a fenders thing I'm working on, Ablaze and Resplendent. mythical au, very very slight nathaniel/anders

~1700 words

It had happened again, when they met the Dalish woman, Velanna. It happened occasionally, when Anders was upset it seemed, that the air around him started to heat. 

"All those people, killed over a misunderstanding? We have to let her know, Commander!" There it was, that little shimmer of heat, like over a candle or a campfire. What was it? Surana didn't feel colder when he was upset, though his eyes would narrow oddly on occasion. That may be an elven thing though, Nathaniel was unsure.

For his part Surana just reached over to pat Anders' shoulder, recoiling very slightly at the heat. "We will, we're going right now." 

When Anders saw the slight flinch he recoiled as well, and the heat dropped again. Maybe it was just a mage thing, that Anders just had poor control. He would have to ask about it.

 ----  

Well, they all left the forest finally with an extra mage, far too many sets of ragged clothing, and several minor burns that Anders wouldn't stop apologizing for.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Surana intercepted for the third time now, "It's alright, we know you didn't mean to hurt anyone, it was just.. an unjust situation. You're fine, you did well."

Anders' hands finally stopped their anxious fluttering, "I- alright. If you're sure..."

"I'm sure, you’re not going to be punished for it."

"I don't see why this shemlen shouldn't be disciplined for it. He could have seriously injured us!" Their new companion was acerbic, to say the least.

Surana replied swiftly, "Yes, and so could have you when you knocked me over with that vine. Or the very recent time you set possessed trees on us. He apologized, you're helping us now, it's all come out in the wash."

"I don't know why you're so attached to this shemlen lasa'Sylaise, but it will undoubtedly  be your undoing." Harsh, though he can't say he hadn't had similar thoughts before. Though with less descriptors.

"If you don't mind, Velanna, what was that word you said?" He started gently, but the Dalish woman still reeled on him.

"I do mind, shemlen, is that the word you meant?"

"No, though-" Surana interrupted him this time, stepping between the two of them.

"Alright, we're not arguing right now. Besides, the Keep is right there. Let's have Varel ready the Joining, and then we can all get some sleep."

"You can, you mean. I'll have to watch over her in the clinic. If she makes it." This was more characteristic of Anders, whinging animatedly.

"I'll stay up with you if you like, but before any of this I need a bath, and we all need food, so everyone meet up back in the main hall in say... two hours?" Generous with his time, the Commander. Perhaps he could ask him, what this thing Anders did was.

----

After Velanna had been Joined -she'd thankfully survived, though he'd not say that to her face, as he valued his ears- Surana had been true to his word and could be found in the Vigil's Clinic, with Anders.

The two mages were chattering while Anders examined Velanna.

"And then he goes, 'Perhaps it is a magical bosom?' to Senior Enchanter Wynne!"

"Awful image, that, but I think I like this Zevran character of yours. Did she go purple in the face like she used to?"

"As a plum! Oh but you two would be awful together. No stealing my Antivan, it's not allowed." 

The human mage sighed, "Oh alright then. No fun. What about your king, can I steal him from you? You said he was a giant of a man."

"No! Well yes, he is, but you can't have him either. You can't have my two favorite mundies, you'll have to find your own."

"Such a chore!" With that he clapped, "Anyway, we're done here, she'll be fine, but probably won't wake up for a" he turned around to see Nathaniel at the door, "a day or so..." With a nervous glance to Surana, he asked, "Hello Nate. Um, how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to hear about an apparently magical bosom, and to wonder what on earth a 'mundie' is."

Surana hopped down to stand from where he had been perched on a counter. "It's alright Anders, I knew he was there. And as for that Nathaniel, a mundie is just short for mundane. Non magical people."

"Normies, if you will." Anders seemed a little more at ease since knowing Nathaniel hadn't snuck up on them. Though he was curious how the Commander had detected him, he certainly hadn't made any noise.

"Ah yes. How flattering a descriptor."

"Well is it any more flattering than robe? Or maybe maleficarum, or mage?" His words were light, but the air was shimmering again, just slightly, above his shoulders.

"Why does he do that?" Something in his tone must have surprised Anders, because the heat dropped immediately.

"Do what?" There was an edge of nerves in the man's voice, and as usual Surana jumped in to intervene.

"Hey, hey it's fine. You don't have to tell him if you don't want to." Addressing Nathaniel then, "It's a mage thing."

"Is it? Or is it just an Anders thing? Because you don't do this, Velanna does not, and she had been surely upset."

"Wait you think it's just whenever I'm upset? Like some sort of child stomping their feet?" Anders sounded incredulous. But that was it, wasn't it? He got upset and lost control. But then, he thought back to what Surana had said, on the path.

"Or is it, injustice?"

Anders stilled and Surana looked over, pupils narrowed to slits. "Do you want to tell him? Because I can make him leave."

"No, don't do that, just- Maybe he should know. But, not here." Anders seemed rather... miserable. Far different from the laughing man he'd been a moment ago.

"Alright. My office then. Nobody can walk in if you light up, or if I go teeth down." What were they talking about? He supposed that's what he'd come here asking.

----

By the time they'd reached the Commander's office Nathaniel was wondering if this was a folly. It wasn't like he'd needed to know. Though if Anders kept boiling the air someone may get hurt, more than a few small burns.

Surana sat them down, taking his own seat at his desk, hands folded in front of him like an ordinary meeting. When he began, he looked at Nathaniel severely.

"How much do you know about mages, Nathaniel?"

"I know that they are people who can use magic. They are trained either in a Circle or by their clan if they are Dalish-born. They can use different kind of magic, blood magic being the most dangerous. Some say they can transform into monsters, so they are kept safe in the Circle." At the last statement the air warmed again, and Surana's look became harsh.

"Until that last bit you were, mostly accurate. The Circles don't keep anyone safe, and we aren't monsters. Some mages are just, special."

"But what does this have to do with Anders? And this thing that he does?"

"Anders?"

"Can, can you say it? Maybe?" The man was nervous, eyes flicking between his two fellow Wardens.

"Why does he do this, Commander, what aren't you telling me?"

"Because Anders is an Angel"

Nathaniel was struck aback, and also confused. "But those, those aren't real, Commander. They're a story, to tell children to explain what spirits are."

Surana seemed to consider, for a moment, before turning to Anders. "Would you mind? Taking your wings out? If only for a moment? I won't make you." Surana's voice, as it ever was when speaking to the other mage, was soft, and spoke of the depth of his fondness.

Anders wrung his hands a bit nervously, "I suppose I should, it might explain things a little better, and I- I haven't been out in a while." And then he took a deep breath, and suddenly Nathaniel was sitting next to the sun.

Nathaniel had seen a painting once, from Orlais. They weren't common in Ferelden anymore, but a visiting acquaintance of his mother had bought it for her, and he'd seen it before his father had had it thrown out. It had claimed to be the 'true' Visage of Andraste, as she had looked in life, in battle.

She had been wreathed in flame, hair and sword shining from the light of it, eyes gleaming golden as she brought down the Wrath of the Maker. And as he sat there, looking at Anders, who had transformed, gilded and alight, into this beautiful creature of flame and feathers and magic, he looked just like-

"Like Andraste."

When he said it, breathless and in awe, Anders recoiled, as if expecting to be struck. The glow dropped and then again there was simply a man, one who was babbling, "No, no I'm sorry I'm not trying to trick you, I know I'm not-" 

Surana intercepted Anders again, moving neatly around his desk and grabbing his hand. "Hey. Hey no, no it's alright. You're not tricking anyone, he just thought you were pretty, all lit up." It wasn't untrue, but-

Anders scoffed, head hung low, "Just a pretty bird," there was contempt and desolation alike in every word, and Nathaniel really felt he shouldn't be listening to this. But he had asked, damnable curiosity, and now had to hear it.

"No, nobody's bird, Anders. You're an Angel; you are fire and justice and freedom, and they were wrong to tell you differently." Anders looked up at Surana, and Nathaniel could tell in an instant that the Commander could say this to Anders dozens of times, and he still might not believe it. 

Nathaniel coughed after a beat, and the two mages looked at him, "So then, he's some sort of Seraph, of injustice or something, and when he gets testy he heats up. But then, what are you, Commander? Something similar?"

Warden-Commander Surana smiled at him then, pupils thinned to slits and with teeth that were far longer than they were a moment ago, and said, "Oh no, I'm no Angel. I'm a monster."

[orion-the-onion]

Got tagged by @demandthedoodles and made the boys in this picrew! Only two cause I've been procrastinating finishing da2 for more than a month at this point (I'm so sorry unnamed Adaar, I'll get to you eventually), and don't remember my last inky from 4 years ago at all.

Orion "that's Commander to you" Surana is a) tired and b) unimpressed, so business as usual. Zevran's golden earring probably wouldn't work as a lip piercing but shhhhh.

I don't know if Nicky is cursing his life or cussing someone's ass off, guy has plenty reasons for both (rip). You know what, he could be multitasking, it wouldn't surprise me.

Zero idea who to tag tbh, so just feel free to do it if you want to, person reading this! don't let the lack of tag stop you 😶‍🌫️

[clavicuss-vile]

god im having so many anora thoughts rn and i lowkey HIGHKEY want to make a warden to be her prince or princess-consort. maybe not even a warden they could easily just be a companion but im THINKING it. ara'kian wouldn't propose the marriage to her because he (and alistair) are quite happy for her to rule alone, which means the pair would genuinely be a labour of love i think.

i dont have anyone who's the chancellor yet.... see the issue is a prince-consort would make the most sense esp in regards to my very out of canon worldstate because it would let her son rythian be a mac tir not a theirin, and also it would mean theres not a crisis of succession while anora is literally stood there pregnant with cailan's child as it currently is in my canon..... bUT i see her as heavily wlw. probably bisexual seeing as i do think her and cailan loved eachother but i think she heavily leans towards women, and a princess consort would just be sweet. princess consort who romanced leliana and then broke up with her when she realised she'd fallen for anora harder.

bUT then rythian would still need to be cailan's which i dONT LIKE. gonna have to do some heavy digging into real world history and see if there are any cases of homosexual or just unpartnered rulers essentially having an heir out of wedlock

basically current thought process is anora takes after surana and plays a game of "how hard can i make the orlesian chantry hate me: step 1 - agree to free the circle of magi step 2 - marry a mage and make them prince(ss) of ferelden step 3 - have a recognised heir outside of wedlock (somehow) step 4 - let surana raise a mage rebellion in your country and supply aid where possible step 5 - harbor an offshoot of the mage rebellion in the most defendable arling step 6 - found an independant chantry of ferelden"

[merrilldidnothingwrong]

#5 for all the companions in the ask game!! sorry if that’s too much i couldn’t pick, all those questions are so good 😅

Not going to do all the companions, but I will pick one or two.

These are the views of my preferred Warden, Surana. (They go back and forth on pronouns, I think they're genderfluid. Don't ask me about their first name, I haven't figured it out yet.)

Alistair No. 5: Surana almost wanted to let the Landsmeet decide. Throw it up to them. But he didn't particularly trust them after it took this much to sway them away from Loghain. And if he's being honest, he wants to be selfish with this. Just once. In the year he's been a Warden, it's proven to be a brutal, painful experience. The times they've all nearly died are numerous, and he has no desire to see Alistair's luck run out. This is a way out of the Wardens, probably the only one Alistair would ever willingly take, and Surana intended to use it. And for a more noble motive, after Anora's politicking, Loghain's paranoia, and Cailan's immaturity, Fereldan needs Alistair. Someone who understands life outside of nobility, and who has one of the most powerful senses of duty he's ever seen, with only Sten's surpassing him. Alistair wants to do the best by people, and if how he's turned out after years of templar training is any indication, (and Surana knows it is) his moral compass isn't lightly swayed. And Alistair talked about how he grew up like some of the other apprentices in the Circle talked about life there. Jokingly, hiding horrors behind humor. Surana could never simply walk away from the Wardens. He was an elven mage. But if he survived the Blight, Alistair had the chance to.

But it would be too easy. Too easy for the one man who easily cows Alistair out of ingrained habit and misplaced gratitude to have his friend's ear, and run Fereldan with Alistair as a puppet. Arl Eamon was the one person Alistair ever struggled to stand up to, even as his confidence has grown over the past year. And Surana trusted Eamon as much as he trusted Greagoir. He didn't. If there was someone else there, who could push back against Eamon, Alistair wouldn't be alone. And the fact of the matter was, Anora was right. She was an experienced ruler, and probably the best bet to put Fereldan back on an even keel after the Blight. But she could only stabilize it. Anora alone wouldn't be able to improve Fereldan. She might not even have the thought that it needed to be improved. But Alistair did. He had dealt with peoples who Anora had never even met, and he knew the realities of life for elves and mages. If the two of them could work together, they would be better off.

Despite floating the idea of marriage to the two of them, Surana didn't think they would ever love each other that way. At most, they could wind up friends. More likely, they would be allies, sometimes butting heads. But that was a sight better than the alternative. For once, Surana just wanted a result where everyone would be alright. Where one side didn't end up murdering the other. And maybe, just maybe. Maybe Alistair and Anora could push the world to be kinder.

[pinkfadespirit]

WIP Wednesday

I've been jumping around between so many different projects lately that it almost feels like I'm never going to get anything finished. The most recent thing has been a return to this Handers modern AU fic I started a while ago. I wasn't sure if I was ever going to share it when I started it but I've been feeling less shy about it recently.

I couldn't find a part in the most recent scenes I've been working on that would stand alone without context but here's something from an earlier chapter with some Anders and Jowan friendship. Because I just think they should be friends :)

"Do you remember back in school this one time we were all round at Surana's place? We did that weird... ritual, I guess you could call it." Jowan was clearly thrown by the question, not that Anders was surprised. It had been years since he'd thought about that day. The more surprising thing was probably that he'd even remembered it after so long. "The soulmate thing?" Jowan asked doubtfully as he took a seat at the other end of the sofa from Anders. "Yeah," said Anders, almost regretting even bringing it up because it really was so stupid that he was even thinking about it. "We called upon the spirits or whatever to tell us—" "What our soulmate's first words to us would be. I remember. Wow, I haven't thought about that in a while." "Do you think it was real?" He felt embarrassed just asking but he was fairly sure Jowan wouldn't mock him for it the way Surana would.  "Wait," Jowan's eyes widened. "Was it her? The woman you stayed with?" "What, Marian? No. No it was... someone else. Someone I doubt I'll ever see again." "Oh." Jowan seemed disappointed by that. It was sort of sweet, how genuinely invested he seemed in Anders' happiness.  "And it's not as though I believe in all that," he said, as though it hadn't been his idea to even try the stupid ritual back then. "It's got to be a coincidence. It just got me thinking."  He remembered it clearly, even after more than fifteen years. Anders had been so sure he knew what the words would be, that he'd already met the person he was meant to be with. Then the board had spelled out something different, the same words that tall beared man had spoken to him: 'who the fuck are you?' and his friends had dissolved into peals of laughter as Anders' heart deflated because Karl was sweet and shy, and the first time they'd spoken had been when Anders had dropped one of his exercise books on the way to his maths lesson earlier that day. Karl had called him back, not wanting him to get in trouble with Ms Rylock, who had a real knack for making her students cry over that sort of thing. He had the prettiest blue eyes Anders had ever seen, and he'd been convinced it was love at first sight.  It had to be a coincidence, or a joke Surana had played on him, because it was a common enough phrase, and because it was exactly the sort of thing Surana would do.

tagging: @goth-surana, @thedastrash, @salsedine, @ringneckedpheasant, @pyritefes2, @un-shit-yourself, @pappykins, @rusted-pipe-of-wisdom, @lordnochybaty, @spicywarl0ck, @illusivesoul, @sweetmage

I'd love to see what you've all been working on! Though of course there's no pressure if you don't feel like it. If you'd like to be added to the taglist then let me know. Or feel free to post your own WIP and tag me in it!

[sparrowowoods]

1-5 for your surana or character of your choice!

Thank you so much :pleading:

what drives them? what's their ultimate goal?

They Need to save people. Everyone. As a circle mage, a girl who's been there so long any figures from her past have long since been replaced in her mind with Chantry faces, she's really internalized a lot of Chantry stuff and first above them "Magic is meant to serve man" and then, joining the Wardens whose job is to protect all of Thedas, really hammers it in. They're deeply compassionate and it is the thing that keeps them afloat during the chaos of the Blight. Neria doesn't know what the next step will bring or what to do about anything, she's been in Kinloch Hold forever and now everything's a mess with the Blight, but she moves towards whoever needs help.

2. what was your original concept for this character? how did playing them change that concept? I didn't have one! I don't play a lot of video games and knew very little about dragon age before my girlfriend got me into it so I was just along for the ride. Before playing Neria, I actually never understood when my girlfriend would say her character would do this or wouldn't do that.

3. can they accept failure? It depends. For personal things, hobbies and skills, yea no problem. Initially, she cannot cook or set up a tent or start a fire without magic but that's ok :) She's just happy to be here. If it effects someone else? No. They will grieve the fall of Lothering and Ser Tamra's death forever.

4. what one person, place, or thing do they love more than anything else? Leliana, Vigil's Keep, and magic. Leliana is kind, she's funny, and Neria thought she was out of her mind when they first met but was happy to get any extra help. The fact she's a bard and knows all these stories, has all this knowledge of the world that is wholly unknown to Neria enraptures her. She'll sit and listen to Leliana tell the same story over and over again because of how interesting it is (and it's a great excuse to stare at her because she's also very pretty). Vigil's Keep is a place that represents and means so much to her. It's something she could never have dreamed of back in the circle. Even with a bunch of weird darkspawn, being incredibly busy every second of the day, and needing to talk to nobles. Neria is an elf and a mage and she's got all these people looking up to her! It's weird but incredible and she really, really, wants to make a difference. And she loves being a grey warden and stretching what it means to be one. Magic is who she is. It's what she's good at, what she understands and relies on when nothing makes any sense. It's also fun! She likes studying and debating nitpicky theories and was beyond delighted to meet Dagna. As a good little circle mage, blood magic would be and was horrifying to her (especially after the emotional fallout of Jowan using it and then Uldred) but after she met and killed the Architect, it's something she'd study academically but probably never practice. Important to know though, and interesting!, considering how the grey wardens use it.

5. is there something they want to be known for?

Yes. She wants (a statue, she was so bummed the dwarves didn't offer to make one for her) to change things for mages and for elves. After saving Amaranthine (and Vigil's Keep) and needing to construct it basically from the ground up, there is no way in hell she kept the alienage. One hundred percent gone. I'm sure elves generally stick with elves and humans with humans, but they don't have to. They can talk, fight, fuck, etc as one city. She also got Kinloch Hold its independence and would be very happy to kick the templars out and never see one of them ever ever again. They read their first theory, crediting Dagna with inspiration, and talked about how templars and dwarves use magic on its steps (not, entirely, to piss off the Chantry but a little bit for sure). Also. She's very autistic and nonbinary. Also also, she happens to look a little like florence welch.

[crossdressingdeath]

❛ i don’t know who i am anymore. ❜ and/or ❛ i didn’t know where else to go. ❜ for Tahel

Tahel really should've known better than to annoy the Templars. Even for Jowan's sake, he should've just kept his head down. Jowan got yelled at all the time, it probably would've been fine. Instead Tahel had stepped in to talk them down, and the Templar had yanked his arm the wrong way with an audible pop in his anger, and now it looked all wrong. Jowan had run off as soon as Tahel took the Templar's attention off him, and the Templar himself had stormed away the moment he'd let go; there was no one to help him find his way to a healer, even assuming one of them would be willing to fix his arm. They refused, sometimes, if the Templars had done it; afraid of getting in trouble if the Templars had done it as a punishment.

Still, he couldn't sleep with a dislocated shoulder, and he couldn't go to class with one either. There had to be someone he could ask to heal him in a tower full of mages.

...Hadn't Anders gotten out of his latest punishment just a couple days ago? Wouldn't he be back in his dorm by now? He was a spirit healer, and he'd always been nice to Tahel. It wasn't like he had any real alternatives, anyway.

It was nearing curfew by the time Tahel managed to slip past the last of the Templars in the hall and into the dorm, trying his best to hide his arm in his robes as he went. No one noticed, whether by luck or a lack of interest. Still, he'd better hurry; Anders was in the dorm next to his, and if he was caught over here after curfew a dislocated shoulder would be the least of his worries.

A few apprentices shot him nervous looks as he entered. Tahel couldn't blame them. They'd all be in trouble if he got caught, but hopefully he'd be in and out before it came to that. Anders was sitting on his bunk with an older apprentice Tahel vaguely recognized; Karl something, he thought the name was. The two of them were laughing over something or other when they noticed Tahel approaching.

"Surana," Anders said. He sounded annoyed. "This isn't your dorm."

"I know," Tahel said quietly. He'd interrupted something, clearly. "I-"

"Why are you here?" Anders interrupted. "It's nearly curfew, the Templars will-"

"I know," Tahel snapped. "I just-!" He took a deep, steadying breath and carefully untangled his arm from his robes. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Shit." All of Anders's irritation was gone in a moment. "Who did this?"

Tahel didn't answer. Karl sighed from his place at Anders's side. "Templars," he said. It wasn't a question, but Tahel nodded anyway.

"Bastards," Anders muttered. "Doing this to a kid... Here, let me." His hands were gentle on Tahel's arm. "I'm going to have to set this properly. Karl, can you..." Karl bundled up some of the blankets and passed the lump of fabric to Anders. "Thank you. Here," he continued, turning to Tahel, "bite down on this and try not to scream. This is going to hurt."

It did hurt when Anders popped the joint back into place. Tahel bit down so hard on the lump of fabric he thought he would bite straight through it, but he managed to strangle the scream in his throat down to a soft whimper. "Shit," he hissed as he pulled the blankets out of his mouth.

"Nicely done," Anders said gently. One hand settled on Tahel's shoulder, and a wave of warmth washed over him as Anders cast a quick healing spell. "Feeling better?"

Tahel rolled his shoulder carefully. There was a faint ache still, but nothing more serious than a bruise. "Much," he said. "...Thank you, Anders."

Anders offered a grudging smile. "Tell you what," he said. "If the Templars give you any trouble in the morning, come see me in the infirmary. I'm sure I can convince Irving and the head healer to let you help me for a few hours."

"You're in the infirmary?" Tahel asked.

"Yeah, they want me where the healers can keep an eye on me," Anders sighed. Then he winked at Tahel. "So next time you don't know where to go, come see me, okay?"

Tahel smiled a little awkwardly back. "I will."

He barely made it back to his own dorm before curfew. If he was still smiling even as he ducked behind the door just before the Templar on watch could see him, that was no one's business but his own.

[contreparry]

happy friday ann!! for dwc and from the invisible cities prompts, "A shared dream summons people to the same place." maybe with a mage character and non-mage character of your choice?

Absolutely! Here's some Morrigan and Alistair friendship (?) for @dadrunkwriting.

She heard him before she saw him, the crunch of twigs and leaves under his boots alerting her to his presence long before he emerged from the darkness to join her by the fire. He, however, seemed surprised to see her and nearly tripped over his own feet. Typical Alistair, Morrigan thought as the man stumbled to find his footing and his words. But she hadn't the heart to snap at him tonight.

"Oh. You're here. Right," Alistair inhaled loudly, as if steeling himself for a great battle. "I'll just... get going. Back the way I came. Alllllll the way back-"

"Oh, cease your prattle and sit down," Morrigan snapped. Too much talk (loud talk) set her on edge. Conversation had its merits, of course, but Alistair's blathering could hardly be called conversation (never mind intelligent conversation) in the first place. Perhaps it was her childhood of isolation that made her so averse to the niceties of the common folk, the graces that other socialized people had. The others in their company (chiefly Leliana) had a grasp on conversation that she lacked, and she was forever playing catch-up in a game she wasn't aware she was participating in. But Alistair... for whatever reason, Alistair was just as lacking in this aspect of socialization that she was. Friendly, bumbling, jokester that he was, Alistair was just as slow as she at the art of conversing.

"So... some show earlier, huh?" Alistair asked, grasping for a topic because sitting in silence was never his way. At least it was something interesting and not some terrible pun. Morrigan might have chased him off he had done that. Instead she stared into the fire and turned Alistair's words over in her mind. A show. Warden Surana was certainly dramatic, stalking off into the wilderness with his mabari loyally following in his footsteps while Zevran took to sharpening his knives in the shadows and muttering darkly to himself in Antivan. And for what? The whole mess started over some little bit of jewelry, a little loop of gold that was almost as small as the nail of her pinkie. Such a delicate thing, such a little thing, and it had Zevran and Surana snapping at each other like starving dogs over bones.

"... I don't believe I've ever seen our Crow so obviously angry before," Morrigan replied.

"At least no one died?" Alistair offered, and he slipped off the log to crouch before the fire. He reached for a branch and poked at the logs, moving them so the unburnt ends would finally catch. It wasn't particularly successful, the flames sputtering with every slight movement.

"At least," Morrigan said. It was interesting to have a conversation with Alistair that wasn't a fight, just as it was interesting to see them agree on something- though this was one situation where it was hard to disagree. Zevran and Surana were furious with each other, and Morrigan didn't know what to do about it. If it had been anyone else she probably wouldn't care, but this was Surana, and Surana had been- well, if not warm and welcoming, certainly thoughtful and considerate. He was a... well, he was the closest person Morrigan would call a friend. She hadn't had many of those before. And Alistair... she glanced over at the young man, who was glowering at the embers as he tried to coax the dying fire back to life, and she sighed.

"Step back or I'll burn your eyebrows off," she warned, and Morrigan set the remaining wood in the pit ablaze. Alistair blinked.

"Neat trick, that," he commented. Morrigan snorted, even as a warmth filled her chest at the remark.

"Tis useful. It took many a year to hone my craft," she replied. "Not unlike how you wield a sword, or our Crow his knives. Or Surana and his alchemical concoctions." And how envious she was of Surana's knowledge- if she had but an hour in those libraries he was raised in, oh what she could do with such work!

"Yeah, well... let's hope those knives and nasty potions aren't coming out tonight. Or tomorrow," Alistair shuddered. "Survived the Joining, all the assassination attempts, the Darkspawn, only to get caught in the crossfire of a lover's quarrel? Embarrassing."

Morrigan had to agree. Agreeing with Alistair again! Would wonders ever cease?

"Perhaps they won't. Shared dreams summon people to the same place, or so I have been told," Morrigan suggested. "We're reasonable people." And reasonable people would put the good of the world over a lover's spat. Right? Alistair seemed to pick up on her unease, because he shrugged and crawled closer to the fire. He began to toss pine needles into the flames.

"Mostly reasonable, yeah. Let's hope that holds," Alistair muttered. Morrigan sat down on the ground next to him, gathered up a handful of dried pine needles, and began to toss them into the fire as well, watching the long and slender needles curled in the heat before they burnt to ash.

[overthinkingfeathers]

I’m not going to lie, the “Letter from the Hero of Ferelden” codex is moderately hilarious to me. 

Like, this is the canon letter: 

To Her Worship, Inquisitor Lavellan:

I wish that I had helpful information regarding Corypheus, but due to my own limited training during the Blight, I know less of ancient darkspawn lore than do most Wardens. I am engaged in a search of my own. All Grey Wardens who do not fall in battle eventually fall to something known as the Calling, a magic that preys upon our own connection to the Blight and the darkspawn. Rather than such foul magic eventually leading to my death, I have determined to find a way to negate this Calling and save all Wardens from its effects.

As I have little useful information to offer, please accept the accompanying gifts instead. If, in my quest, I find anything that may be of use to you in your fight against Corypheus, I will send it to you immediately.

In closing, I wish you luck. This world of the shemlen is a difficult one for our kind, and I can only imagine the pressure of leading the Inquisition, an organization dedicated to the Chantry, while staying true to the Way of the Three Trees. May Mythal protect you in your quest, and Andruil bless your hunt.

Yours, Warden-Commander Mahariel of Ferelden

Would Aderes Mahariel write this? She absolutely would not. This is very Formal and Fancy, and that’s not her at all. If she needs to impress someone, she’ll just point out all the shit she did during the Blight. Who’s earned the right to write letters super casually? She has. Who gave her the right? The dead archdemon, that’s who. 

Like a realistic letter from her would go: 

Inquisitor Lavellan: 

If I knew anything about Corypheus, I would tell you, but unfortunately I don’t. They never bothered to teach me anything. I would offer to come kill him for you - he can’t be worse than the archdemon - but I’m busy trying to figure out how not to die to some magical darkspawn bullshit. If he’s still hanging around after I’m done with that, I’ll come put a blade or two in his heart. 

Here’s a mage robe I looted off an enemy a while back. I’m not a mage, so I don’t need it, but rumor says you are. Hopefully it fits. 

Good luck,  Warden-Commander Mahariel 

PS - Sorry you’re stuck with the Chantry. I’ve met some decent shems over the years, but they’re rarely with the Chantry. Keep a list of who disrespects you for being Dalish. I’ll put a blade in their hearts too. 

Either a scribe is following her around and being very liberal with what she says or Leliana intercepted the letter and rewrote it to be more Official sounding.