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theluckywizard · 2 months

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Hi Lucky, happy Friday!! How about “You'd like to captain a capsized ship, but I like watching you live” from Fiona Apple + Antivan Sip-Sip from Bottles of Thedas for Rose/Cullen?

Thank you, Ad! for @dadrunkwriting

I also used this prompt from @nirikeehan

I feel like I pulled a muscle writing this one! I started it last Friday and it ate my brain over and over. I scrapped a bunch but I really love where it landed.

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x Rose Trevelyan

WC: 2101

Rating: Mature

Tags: Grieving, messy relationship choices, nudity, hurt/comfort

Her renewed hollow look at the war council ground Cullen’s resolve to dust.

Cullen promised himself that he would give Rose space to mourn. He would wait. But his impatience has been unruly and unpredictable and he hates himself every time it surges.

He consoles himself that her clothes aren’t as baggy on her as they’d been a few weeks ago. There’s more color in her cheeks. But today the wound looks fresh, like the sturdy little flame in her eyes everyone has been working so hard to tend has been snuffed out all over again. He needs her to live.

Whenever he tries to imagine what it must be like for her to grieve him, he already knew. She’d been missing for days, presumed swallowed by the Fade. He’d had an entire fortress to secure— the site of large scale blood magic rituals— and while he held himself together mostly, he’d been unable to eat during that time save a few tentative bites here and there, but nothing could spark an appetite. The three days Rose Trevelyan had been presumed lost had ruined him. But she returned.

And he had not.

Cullen spends a half hour searching for her, asking around. He’d nearly given up on the courtyard, until taking one last sweep of the garden he sees Rose leaning against the wall on the mezzanine above, staring beyond the ridgepole of the roof across from her at the setting sun. Beautiful as she is in that orange glow, she looks like she’s daring the sun to set her ablaze.

He crosses under the colonnade and takes the steps two at a time.

“You’re a hard woman to find,” he says, approaching.

Rose glances at him, her lips turning in the faintest of smiles. Maker, he’d give anything to see a proper one on her face.

“You caught me,” she says, looking into the sun once more.

“Have I discovered your hiding place at last?” he asks gently, resting his forearms on the wall beside her. The biting citrine of the low sun softens behind a wisp of a violet cloud. Despite the dozens of dawns they’d seen together, he’s not sure they’d ever shared a sunset.

“Oh, I’ll find another,” she answers. She doesn’t smile, but the dry turn of her humor sends his heart aloft. “What do you need?”

The question catches him off guard. He’s been looking after her since they returned from Adamant; since she showed up in his office before the sun was up and cried in his arms until she fell asleep. Bringing her meals, taking her to the lake to discharge the anchor. But perhaps she doesn’t want to be bothered or checked on today. Any of the dozens of tasks he has compiled in folders on his desk would suffice as an excuse but they all evade him. The truth will have to suffice. He rambles for a moment about the concerning observations of her, watching her body shift closer, close enough he can feel the heat of her. Her gloved hand slides along the weathered stone of the railing until it bumps his. Her look is inscrutable, but trained upon him so intently that color threatens to rise in his cheeks.

“I— uh. I just needed to see that you’re all right—”

Rose tugs him to her with a hand in his hair, pausing an inch away, her eyes scanning his for something— a sign perhaps. Cullen starts to suspect she’d wanted to hear him say all that. And then her warm lips close over his, a sensation he’d struggled to recall during long sleepless nights with his hand in his smalls. As long desired as her attentions are, he locks up, his sense of decency protesting loudly.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, having felt his sudden tension. Her expression falters.

No. He won’t have it. If she needs this, she can have it.

“Don’t be,” he says, his attention darting between her parted lips and her sad gaze. He fails against the force of his desire, clasping her face and drinking of her. There’s no gentle prelude to their kiss, instead they pillage one another with tilts of their head and strokes of their tongue. They stumble away from the wall where anyone in the garden might notice them and crash into a door in the opposite wall. He’s intoxicated by the taste of her, the richness of her open mouth against his. The last time they’d done this had been disastrous, but he’s not like to make the same mistake twice. Rose pats around for a latch and is met with a lock.

“Next one,” she murmurs against his lips.

They shuffle toward it and stumble through the door to one of the guest rooms they have prepared for diplomatic use. They part, both of them recovering their breath from the ferocity of their kiss as they assess whether it’s currently occupied. Silvery light floods in through a small diamond paned window in the back of the room and confirms they’re alone. He wonders if it’s long enough of a pause for Rose to come to her senses.

Instead, she backs him against a desk, her fingers raking up the back of his scalp as she kisses him, her tongue parting his lips. All the sensible protests that flicker through his mind wither beneath the weight of his desire, of his love. He’d do anything to make her feel something other than grief.

He matches her intensity, kissing her like he could wash away her pain. Rose sneaks her hands beneath his jerkin, smoothing over his abdomen and drift lower toward his waistband, her fingertip catching on his belt. He’s been hard since the first touch of her lips, but now his cock aches, trapped in the leg of his breeches. His hips reach for hers and they mold to one another, soothing their need with hungry pulses. Rose lifts her leg along his hip to bear into him more deeply.

“I need you,” she whispers. Maker, he needs her.

“Are you certain?” he asks. The question is absurd, born more of his disbelief than her obvious hunger.

She answers by undressing herself, freeing the clasps on her vest with one hand while she tugs her scarf away with the other. By the time he snaps to his senses and starts divesting himself of his own clothes, Rose is nearly bare, the same beautiful parts of her exposed as that terrible morning. She steps forward to assist, and catches him gazing at the scar on her left shoulder, his throat all tied up in knots.

Rose picks up his hand and lays it against it.

“Don’t think about it,” she insists. There’s urgency in her voice and frankly, he shares it.

Cullen leans in to kiss her again, their lips grazing and catching as he unbuckles his belt and tugs it from the loops but he hesitates when he begins feeling for the fastenings of his breeches.

“What?” Rose asks quietly. He meets her look for the first time, his eyes locking to hers in this weak light. There’s something raw and desperate that pierces him too deeply. She’s all washed out, the brilliant copper of her hair and blue of her irises and the tan of her freckles all shades of black and gray. In a way, it matches the way she’s been for too long now. Reaching for her cheeks he banishes all the space between them. Maybe he could coax color back into her.

Cullen kicks off his boots while they feast upon each other and then slides his breeches off his hips, embarrassed by the spring of his erection as the constraints drop away, heat staining his cheeks. At least she’s too busy unlacing her stay to notice his flush, and soon her breasts fall free as she pushes it back off her shoulders. Rose quickly hides them under his hands, biting her lip, her nipples pressing into his palms. She shifts her hips so he nestles in the little hollow between her thighs and then churns lightly against it, her body pressing to his. Truthfully, he’d rather they feel their nakedness than see it.

As their hands and mouths grow wild and venturesome, all the echoes of their ragged, broken breath seem to scold them for stealing away in tidy, official space. He glances at the bed— freshly made in expectation of dignitaries with a little welcome basket Josephine had assembled— and finds himself ashamed to have trespassed.

But her wet lips plying his own, her breasts grazing his ribs, the dry warmth of her skin against his all conspire to snuff it out. He clasps her closer with a hand cupped over her rear and surrenders to all the sensations.

Boot steps and a jangling of keys sound outside the door and they both snap upright, shushing each other and scrambling barefoot to press against the wall behind the door. Breathlessly they wait to see if they’re about to be intruded upon.

“Don’t worry. I’ll— I’ll explain everything,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Like that? No you won’t!” Rose hisses back, gesturing at his swollen state. “We’re hiding.” Cullen clutches a sheepish hand over his erection.

He argues in a stubborn murmur. “If they come in here, we’ll be discovered as soon as the door closes.”

A sudden laugh busts out through Rose’s nose. “And as soon as they see the commander stammering in his smalls— they’ll trip right back where they came from.” Cullen can see the shadows of her dimples in her cheeks. He smiles himself.

She’s right, of course. He slumps back against the wall, exhaling the tension. The interruption had almost instantly softened him.

“They walked past,” she observes, glancing at him. She covers herself up with an arm, though it does little to quell the stirring in his smalls. “We’re safe.”

Rose rises and picks up her chemise from the floor, tugging it on as she crosses toward the bed where Josephine’s welcome basket sits. Unscrewing a jar, she gives it a sniff. She laughs.

“Candied walnuts,” she says, holding it out to him. He saunters over as if they’re fully clothed and takes the jar as easily as if it’s a missive in the war room. There’s no shame in her eyes, only a cheeky willfulness like they’d only been up to some mischief. Free of the spell of their desire, something breaks between them, a fragile barrier crashing to the ground. The anxious tension in his belly melts away.

He takes a bite, smiling as the earthiness and bitterness and browned sugar strike his palate. “We had a walnut tree growing up. We’d take turns climbing up to shake the branches while the others would stand below trying to catch them in baskets.”

She takes the jar back to feast on her own handful and then flops onto the bed with it, sitting half propped up against the pillows. He picks up the rest of the basket and joins her, pawing through it in the moonlight.

“Antivan Sip-Sip?” he asks, squinting at the label on a small bottle.

“Brandy,” Rose explains, taking it. She uncorks it and tips back a swig that prompts a little cough.

They make a mess of the basket, snickering to one another about how confused and chagrined Josephine will be when she learns of it. There are praline chocolate truffles from Orlais and Nevarran landjaeger sausages. Rose reaches out to tap a sausage to his in an absurd little toast. Cullen swings the connected links like a flail until she laughs. He’s not sure he’s ever done anything so stupid.

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I shouldn’t have— taken advantage of you like that.”

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I was quite content to be taken advantage of,” he says into his lap, his lips turning in a wry smile. Rose chucks a walnut at him.

“You deserve better,” she says.

He scoops her hand into his and squeezes it. “Perhaps. But I want you.”

Cullen isn’t sure where the courage comes from. There’d been romance between them once, a time when everything felt heady and enchanting before he tore it all down in a blind panic.

Still gripping his hand, she wipes her cheek, a subtle sheen betraying the tear. Rose loves Hawke still and will— well— probably forever. Few things feel as insurmountable as hoping to compete with a dead man. But maybe her heart could open a little wider.

Maybe she could make some space in there for him, too.

#dragon age inquisition #cullen x trevelyan #cullenmance #cullen x inquisitor #DADWC #rose trevelyan #cullen rutherford #second chances #messy relationship #grieving and loss #cullen rutherford smut

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dendroaspis-viridis · 14 days

Text

The Hunt Ball

Katareth is the unfortunate recipient of an invitation to one of the Pentaghast’s famous hunt balls. Thankfully, a certain necromancer will also be in attendance.

Rating: T (Content warnings listed under the read more.)

Read it on AO3

Content warnings for unwanted physical contact (though nothing overtly sexual), depictions of overstimulation, consumption of alcohol, and a very brief blink-and-you-miss-it mention of losing a child.

9:42 Dragon

With the Mortalitasi’s autumn rites concluded and new initiates welcomed into the Mourn Watch, Harvestmere’s arrival was heralded by cold winds and the crunch of dead leaves underfoot.

Pulling her cloak tighter around broad shoulders, Katareth walked alongside Johanna to the little Antivan restaurant they frequented for dinner. It was within walking distance to the Necropolis, and they were always greeted by the delicious scent of spiced meats and a friendly ‘Hullo!’ from the owner as soon as they stepped through the door.

After ordering their food, they sat at their usual table by the window, sipping at warm glasses of cider to chase the chill away.

“What’s been going on in that head of yours, Kitty? I could practically hear you thinking on the way over here.”

“…Can you teach me to dance?” the qunari quickly whispered, glancing around to ensure none of the other customers overheard.

Johanna blinked a few times. Of all the things she expected Katareth to ever ask of her, that certainly wasn’t one of them.

When the older Watcher didn’t respond after a few moments, Katareth hastily explained, “I know you’ve been to several balls over the years and are much better acquainted with the more aristocratic side of Nevarran culture than I am-”

Johanna raised her hand, gently halting the reaper. “First: stop rambling. Second: of course I’ll teach you what I know. Third: why?”

She rubbed at the back of her neck. “So, you know how the Prelate invites all of the higher-ranking Mortalitasi to his family’s hunt ball every winter?” Johanna nodded disdainfully, rolling her eyes. “According to him, this one will be more of a celebration of the Inquisition’s victory, instead. He stopped by my quarters yesterday to tell me my attendance ‘will be expected at the gala to display both the Mortalitasi’s and Pentaghast’s support of the Inquisitor’s divine mission,’” she sneered.

It wasn’t that Katareth disliked Inquisitor Adaar—she'd never even met the poor kid. But she did dislike how some of the same humans who once glanced at her with wary contempt now fawned over her, viewing her as an extension of the Herald’s supposedly sacred origins simply due to the horns that rose from her skull.

Johanna sighed empathetically. “Yeah, that’s politics for ya: ‘You’re not worth my time until there’s something I want from you…’” She thought for a moment, tapping her chin as she scrutinized the reaper. “…But it shouldn’t be too hard to teach you; you’re a quick study, and it’s honestly not that different from combat footwork. We should have… what, six weeks before the ball? That’ll be plenty of time.”

-----

Six weeks came and went, stripping trees of their foliage and supplanting dormant gardens with heaping piles of snow. During that time, Johanna had resumed her place as Katareth’s mentor. Rather than imparting the qunari with the knowledge and expertise one needed to become a Mourn Watcher, she instead taught the younger woman the elegant art of ballroom dance during lessons that often ran into the wee hours of the morning. Johanna was far more patient with Kat than she’d been during their earlier days, but found that patience chipped thinner and thinner every time her feet were smashed underfoot.

Mercifully, that happened less frequently the more they practiced, and eventually Katareth was deemed a more or less proficient dancer. She was by no means perfect, but Johanna had teasingly assured her that most of the attendees would be too drunk after an hour or two to notice her crushing their toes.

“Just tie the sash around your belt once or twice… a bit tighter-too tight! Ugh, just let me do it, Kat.” The human had been helping her prepare for the ball, ironing out the finer details of the Watch’s formal grey-green dress uniform and tossing quick glances at the door every so often.

“Hm... Okay, give me a twirl,” Johanna requested as she perched herself on the edge of a table.

Katareth did as she was told, feeling very much like Thedas’ largest dress-up doll.

“Great… now do it again, but try to not look constipated this time.”

Muttering a curse under her breath, she once again turned, recalling the many many hours dedicated solely to pirouetting properly. Evidently, they paid off when the fine, crimson silk scarf that had been looped around her waist fluttered with her movements, mimicking a glittering arc of dragon’s blood. The little red ribbon that held her ivory hair in a low bun swayed as she stopped, tickling her nape.

“Oh, very good! Well done, Katareth!” Johanna praised, elated to see her teaching put to practice.

A wide grin spread across the qunari’s face. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be as miserable as she’d feared.

“And I believe with that you’re ready.” The older woman began herding her towards the door, offering advice as they went, “Remember: just grin and bear it. You shouldn’t need to be there for more than a few hours—just long enough for people to see and meet you. But there’s no shame in retreating to a terrace to get some fresh air if things get overwhelming, either.”

Opening the door and gesturing for the qunari to lean down, Johanna made some minor adjustments to the matching red silk cravat tied around her throat, plucking invisible pieces of lint from the fabric before smoothing down her waistcoat. “There should also be a few familiar faces. Most of the Pentaghast Mortalitasi will be there obviously, but I know a few other Watchers are attending for one reason or another…” She leaned to the side, looking past Katareth down the hall.

As if on cue, Emmrich appeared from around a corner at the far end of the corridor. His elegant fingers carded through greying hair as he approached, drawing Katareth’s attention to the rich maroon lacquer that adorned each manicured nail. Like herself, he was clad in their order’s formal attire, decorated with shimmering red silk that seemed to flutter and flow with his every move. In contrast to her more reserved placements, Emmrich chose a bold arrangement that accentuated his shoulders by fastening the sashes to his epaulets, letting the fabric billow behind him like wings.

“Good evening, ladies. Apologies for my tardiness; evidently I didn’t start preparing early enough,” the necromancer admitted.

Johanna’s eyes raked over his form as she appraised his work, “I’ll let it slide this time, Volkarin—but only because you clean up nicely.”

“You look wonderful, Emmrich.” Maybe it wasn’t her most elegant or articulate compliment, but an unexpectedly large portion of Katareth’s mind was now dedicated to taking in every aspect of his appearance.

He was beautiful. Not that he wasn’t attractive before, but it wasn’t something Katareth normally paid attention to, too focused on whatever trek or project or corpse they were working on at the time to pay any mind to how someone presented themselves. Suddenly struck by his visage, however, she scanned his features greedily. The carefully-applied kohl around his eyes made their umber depths seem deeper. More entrancing, somehow. His moustache was neat and tidy, sharpened to points so razor-thin the qunari could slice the pad of her thumb on one if she were ever brave enough to try, and… was that a dusting of rouge upon his cheeks?

“Thank you!” he beamed up at her. “I could say much the same about you. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in the Watch’s formal attire, but you wear it well. Red suits you.”

Before she could respond, Johanna interjected. “Yes, yes, you both look lovely. But ‘most everyone else has already left, and there’s a fine line between being fashionably late and just late that you two are tight walking.”

“Right you are. Katareth?” The necromancer gestured down the corridor in the opposite direction he came from, beckoning the pair’s departure. The two said their goodbyes to Johanna, including a quiet, “Thank you. For everything,” from the reaper.

Johanna waved her away. “Bah, get out of here! You can thank me by not embarrassing yourself tonight. Now go!”

-----

“I was roped into this by Prelate Pentaghast, but what brings you to the hunt ball, if you don’t mind my asking?” They made a quick detour to the stables, saddling their undead mounts with varying degrees of success. Katareth was an old pro, having worked with horses on and off at her adoptive parents’ ranch for the past two decades, but Emmrich found the near-endless buckles and straps needlessly convoluted and normally left anything involving them to their resident equestrian.

“My parents insist upon it…” he sighed. “Despite Philomena’s recent betrothal and even Ulrich’s wife giving birth to my third nephew, they still maintain that I—as the eldest child—find a suitable spouse, and all but force me to attend every high-profile event I can.” Emmrich twisted a tip of his moustache as he watched her secure the last few pieces of tack. “Some parties are better than others—and I admit the Pentaghasts do know how to celebrate—but they all still have the same insipid gentry who are far more interested in what you have to offer on parchment than what you have to offer as a person.”

“That sounds… exhausting.” Her hands hesitated as she slipped leather through metal. “…I apologize if it isn’t my place, but it’s not right that they place so much pressure on you. You shouldn’t have to tolerate that. After all, it’s not as if you could control being born first.”

Katareth had been spared from the reproductive stresses of succession simply by virtue of her heritage. Being Albrecht and Petra Naletski’s only surviving child (adopted or biological), however, meant that the more practical responsibilities related to the estate were slowly being handed over to her as she matured. That was nothing, though. She’d choose a few annual meetings to review finances over having someone constantly breathing down her neck to breed like some prized horse...

The necromancer’s fidgeting hand stilled as his eyes dropped to the stone floor, ruminating over her words. “I suppose you’re right…,” he went quiet for several seconds before stating in a lighter tone, “But I think we’ve bellyached enough about family for one night. Let’s attempt to make something fun of the evening, shall we?”

She stood, satisfied that everything was properly secured before offering a strong hand to help the other Watcher into his saddle. “I’d like that. After all, the party can’t be that awful, can it?”

-----

As a matter of fact, it could be.

Within minutes of handing their overcoats off to a servant, both Mourn Watchers were swarmed by party-goers vying for their attention, herding the two in opposite directions. The small crowd surrounding Emmrich seemed more or less familiar with him, if the way they pressed themselves against him and wantonly flirted was any indication.

The humans that corralled Katareth, on the other hand, kept at least a foot of distance. At first. With every successive question they asked and every clipped answer she gave, they inched closer and closer until she felt the uncomfortable squeeze of a hand on the muscles of her bicep.

Apparently, she’d been the center of some speculation ever since Albrecht first brought the then thirteen-year-old girl to Nevarra City, but as she’d never attended any of the social balls during her youth, they’d never had the chance to pry. The Watcher briefly explained how he discovered her working in one of Hossberg’s stables during the maladaptive sabbatical that followed the death of his only child while simultaneously trying (and failing) to subtly remove strange hands from her person. ‘Just grin and bear it,’ she reminded herself.

While the qunari’s towering height drew unwanted attention wherever she went, it did have a few advantages. One such boon was her ability to reach over the gathered gentry to pluck beverages from passing waitstaff. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as it was alcoholic. After tossing back a few drinks, she reached the pleasant state of intoxication where the sharp edges of the evening’s vexations were sanded, while still remaining more or less aware of her faculties.

After almost an hour of enduring questions that ranged from vapid to downright obscene, King Markus Pentaghast rose from his throne atop a black marble dais to give a short speech, thanking Andraste for sending the Herald and commending the Inquisition for its valiant efforts to protect Thedas. He also drew attention to a few key members of the Inquisition who were in attendance tonight, praising them before ending his speech with a warbled declaration to enjoy the night’s festivities.

As he returned to his throne, the large orchestra started up again, prompting couples to take to the spacious dance floor. Katareth turned upon hearing someone clear their throat behind her, greeted by the outstretched hand of an older Pentaghast man clad in dazzling armor. The alcohol in her veins muddied his given name, though she was able to recall that he was one of the handful of Pentaghasts competing for the throne that actually stood a chance at claiming it.

“It’s not often such a beautiful, enigmatic Watcher crosses my path, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t invite her to dance. Would you do me the honor, my lady?”

‘I’d sooner flay myself and roll around in natron,’ she bit back. Maybe if Katareth was a young blushing maiden waiting to be swept off her feet, or enjoyed any of the tawdry romance books Myrna tried to get her to read, she’d be swooning at the thought of dancing with one of Nevarra’s elites. Instead, she wanted to recoil from his insincere compliments and melt into the floor.

“I believe the honor would be mine, Lord Pentaghast.” Eugh.

The dancing itself wasn’t bad, per se, but… everything else was. For someone happiest in the dimly-lit repose of the Grand Necropolis, the bright chandeliers, intense cacophony from the orchestra, and searing touch of Lord Pentaghast’s wandering hands had the reaper wanting to crawl out of her own skin. Just grin and bear it.

When the song finally came to a close, Katareth thought that would be the end of it, and she could slink to some far corner to recuperate for the rest of the evening while still technically remaining present.

Before she could even turn to leave, her hands were grabbed by another human. This one was a cocky young man who loved both alcohol and the sound of his own voice, according to his incessant, slurred chattering.

Each arrangement subjected the reaper to a new face and new grievances until a gentle hand tapped her elbow during a lull. A tall, svelte human about Katareth’s age with dark hair and oddly-familiar features grinned up at her.

“Everyone looked like they were having such a wonderful time dancing with you that I had to see what all the fuss was about,” the woman laughed good-naturedly.

Katareth gave a quiet acknowledgement, dutifully twirling and dipping and spinning her partner when the orchestra picked back up again. About two-thirds of the way through the arrangement, the sudden off-key shriek of a violin’s bow across catgut was the final nail in the qunari’s mental coffin. The cacophonous floodgate of stimuli that’d been held back by a handful of drinks gave way, overwhelming the reaper.

The clanking of armor, the boisterous laughter of people who were somehow enjoying themselves, the blinding dazzle of crystals dripping from chandeliers, it was all just too much. Even the woman’s feather-light touch upon the small of Katareth’s back might as well have been a dagger attempting to carve out her kidneys.

By some great miracle she managed to finish out the dance, but knew she had a narrow window of time before the band would pick back up, trapping her in a snare of social conventions that she knew she'd be unable to manage graciously. Wide, yellow eyes darted, scanning for the path of least resistance to somewhere—anywhere that wasn’t here. Johanna’s earlier advice echoed in her mind. A terrace, yes! She just needed to find a nice, quiet terrace to lick her wounds for the rest of the evening before she could make her escape.

“Leaving so soon, Lady Naletski? I was hoping for another,” the noblewoman teased. Wait. Had Katareth given her name? Ah, who gave a shit—she had bigger issues right now. The reaper’s distress must’ve been apparent, as the woman’s tone became tinged with concern. “Are you okay…?”

“Hm? Oh, um, I’m fine! But I might slip away for a m-moment—if that’s alright, of course? Uh, I-I just need some air.” She managed to flounder out. Maker, even the sound of her own voice scraped against her ears.

Unconvinced, but now well-aware of the Watcher’s dire condition, the human pointed toward the closest flight of stairs that would lead her from the worst of the crowds, “That should be your safest option. It was delightful getting to finally meet you, as well! Hopefully we can cross paths again under calmer circumstances soon!”

Katareth wasted no time, tossing the familiar stranger a thankful wave over her shoulder as she squeezed passed throngs of humans.

Skulking off to a blessedly-empty terrace with only a handful of little blackbirds hopping about for company, the brisk Haring air was a balm to her frazzled mind. While she could still hear the orchestra, it was muffled to a pleasant background music that Katareth could tune out, should she so choose.

She wasn’t entirely sure how long she spent leaning on the balustrade recuperating with her head in her hands, but she supposed it didn’t really matter; she’d spent more than enough time mingling with the living for one night. She’d earned this. Lifting her head to look out upon the landscape, she breathed a long sigh of relief that billowed in the cold. Both moons were full and bright, casting Nevarra City in a silver glow that glittered gently off yesterday’s snowfall. It was nice. It was quiet. She could think.

And massage at the sore muscles of her neck. Humans were certainly an interesting bunch. They were resourceful, superstitious, and individualistic, among other things. But the one detail about them that consistently caused the qunari the most grief was just how short they were. Emmrich was one of the taller humans she spoke to, and she still found herself rubbing cramps from her neck on occasion…

“Sorry to interrupt your quiet time, but I couldn’t resist introducing myself,” a rough, gravelly voice came from her left. Katareth glanced, looking down—then further down still—to see a dwarf with red hair and mischievous eyes. You’ve got to be shitting me.

“Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and according to a certain Seeker, ‘conniving little shit’,” he snickered, holding his hand up to shake. The man had a warm smile, though the confidence that dripped from his words left her wary. Even though he was one of the heroes being celebrated tonight, she’d endured her fair share of self-important men for the evening. When Katareth said nothing and made no move to take his hand, he let it fall to his side, carrying the conversation for her. “The strong, silent type, then? I can work with that.”

“It’s been a long night… Uh, Katareth Naletski. Mourn Watcher.” He didn’t seem offended when she didn’t meet his eyes, instead following the little blackbirds as they flapped about.

“Katareth… that sounds like a very Qunari name to hear in the middle of Nevarra…”

She manifested a handful of Veilfire before dismissing it with a clenched fist. It required fewer words than explaining the nuances between Qunari, Vashoth, and Tal-Vashoth, and most people understood just enough of Qunari culture to know mages weren’t viewed fondly by those who still followed the Qun.

“Ah. Yep, that’ll do it. So, does that make you one of the death mages I’ve heard so much about?”

“Not really,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I’m a bit shit at magic, truth be told. There’s another Watcher here named Emmrich Volkarin, if you’d like to talk to a real Nevarran death caller.” She felt bad trying to make the dwarf Emmrich’s problem, but the necromancer was far better equipped to speak on anything arcane. Really, he was better equipped to speak on anything.

“And miss out on the pleasure of your company? Never,” the dwarf teased. “Besides, you seem like someone worth knowing.”

She hummed inquisitively.

Varric ended up being surprisingly easy to talk to, easing her into the conversation with questions she could answer with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. It almost made her suspicious, as multiple times during their quid pro quo, Katareth found herself divulging information she hadn’t spoken on in decades. It certainly helped that he made her quietly chuckle a few times, regaling her with stories of some of his earlier misadventures.

After a while, she saw his head turn to one of the doors leading back into the castle proper from the corner of her eye. “And that’s probably my cue to get back to the party. It was great talking to you, and I’d love to stay in touch if you’d be willing, Rook?"

“‘Rook’?”

“Yeah. Those birds you’ve been watching the entire time? They’re called ‘rooks.’” He began counting on his fingers, “They’re sociable, dark-feathered, chatty, and tend to stay in the same place their entire lives—it’s perfect, if you ask me!”

Ah. She understood, now. “If you say so.”

Varric gave her one last farewell, passing Emmrich on his way back inside.

Taking the dwarf’s place on the balustrade, Emmrich handed her a steaming mug of mulled wine. “Philomena suggested I come check on you,” he explained. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything…?”

“No, nothing like that! Uh, he just thought I was interesting—but nothing more. Wait, your sister?” She sipped, reveling in the warmth that spread through her.

He nodded, nursing his own mug, “Yes, said you were an excellent dancer, too. I’ll have to pass her praise along to Johanna; I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.”

“I thought she looked familiar… Please give Philomena both my thanks and apologies, I was a bit… um, unpolished toward the end of our dance and she handled it very graciously.” Katareth took a longer drink, hoping he would assume the pink on her cheeks was from the cold.

The necromancer waved her shame away, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, you certainly handled tonight better than I handled my first hunt ball, after all. And you caught the eye of one Varric Tethras.” He smirked, “…You know who’ll be kicking herself for not attending tonight?”

“Myrna!” They laughed in unison. She was probably his biggest fan, collecting signed copies of every book she could get her hands on. She was even their main source of information regarding the Inquisition due to her scouring every report from Ferelden for even a passing mention of her favorite author.

“On top of that, he even bequeathed you with one of his famous nicknames. What was it, ‘Rook’?”

“Apparently,” she grumbled.

“I could see it… After all, they’re immensely intelligent, committed, and often misunderstood by small-minded fools.” The necromancer took a long drink of wine, surveying the skyline.

“…I think I prefer your explanation.”

He smiled softly, huffing a quiet laugh.

The two Watchers stood there for several long minutes, silently basking in each other’s company as they inched closer and closer, blaming their increasing proximity on the biting cold. When their pinkies brushed against one another on the balustrade, neither retreated, and Katareth was pleasantly surprised to feel that his touch didn’t cause her to shy away. It wasn’t too much. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t enough.

Emmrich must have somehow sensed her desire, as he pulled his gaze from the cityscape to look up at the qunari. “Katareth… would you care to dance with me?” he almost whispered.

“I’d love to.” she couldn’t hide her lopsided smile. “Shall I lead?”

“If you’d prefer. I’ve no objections either way.”

The reaper nodded, moving from the railing to allow the necromancer to step even closer into her space. He placed one hand in hers, resting the other on the small of her back. Listening to the orchestra, Katareth found her place in the music, guiding her partner through the motions.

Dancing with him was overwhelming, but not in a way that had her recoiling. Instead, it was a cacophony of sensations in all the best possible ways: exhilarating and soothing and intimate and perfect. The rest of the world seemed to fall away around them, leaving the Mourn Watchers in a silvery spotlight.

Emmrich’s eyes traced along the multitude of scars and creases on her face, though she felt no judgement or derision under his umber stare. As he followed a jagged pearly scar down to where it sliced her lips, Katareth watched as a pink tongue subconsciously darted out to wet his own.

She allowed her eyes to wander across his features, in turn. Though Johanna teased Emmrich endlessly when she first noticed the silver hairs at his temples, Katareth thought they made him even more handsome. More distinguished. Like the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that deepened whenever he smiled, or the singular paper-thin scar at his hairline.

As the music built to its conclusion, she guided the human into a few quick spins, watching in awe as the sashes at his shoulders enveloped them both in a scarlet cocoon. The grey hand at Emmrich’s waist moved to cradle the space between his shoulder blades when the orchestra hit their crescendo, concluding with a dip that left the qunari’s face hovering above his own.

The final echoes of the music faded, though neither Watcher made any attempt to right themselves, practically sharing their breaths. Maker, she wanted to close the distance… Surely, he’d taste of the rich, spiced wine they shared. But I really shouldn’t… The wine was stronger than she’d anticipated, and while she was more than capable of holding her liquor, she couldn’t definitively say the same for the man in her arms.

Besides, doing something drastic and impulsive like that would most certainly qualify as ‘embarrassing herself’ in Johanna’s bespectacled eyes.

Katareth pulled the necromancer into a standing position, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder when Emmrich swayed slightly. Whether it was from vertigo or the alcohol in his veins or an unfortunate mix of the two, she wasn’t sure.

Nevertheless, Emmrich quickly found his balance, looking between the moon’s position in the sky and the ongoing gala inside before breathlessly declaring: “And with that, I daresay we’ve stayed long enough to satisfy social norms if you’d like to return home?”

“Yes, please.” Home. She supposed it really was home, wasn’t it?

They made their way back inside, skirting around the worst of the crowds before donning their overcoats and collecting their mounts. The entire time, Katareth’s mind was fogged with a warm fuzziness that she knew wasn’t brought on by the wine.

-----

“So, what did you think of your first hunt ball?” The Mourn Watchers were a little over halfway back, riding through a gentle fall of fluffy snowflakes.

“Maker-willing, it’ll be my last.” In her opinion, there were only two positives to the evening, and her favorite was currently riding alongside her.

“Can’t say I blame you…” After a few thoughtful moments, Emmrich looked at her and quietly hinted, “You know, I think this might be my last, as well…?”

“Oh?”

His brows furrowed with determination as he took a deep breath. “I… I hate them. They’re miserable, torrid affairs, and I’m quite certain this is the first one in years where I didn’t despise every moment of it.” The necromancer’s cheeks flushed. “I just… I’m so exhausted trying to appease my parents at the cost of my own happiness—if that makes sense? I mean, Andraste’s breath, I’m closing in on forty-five and still seeking their approval!”

She nodded sympathetically. While the qunari never had to grapple with disappointing her biological parents, she had given up on trying to make Petra proud of her years ago, determining the resentful woman was a lost cause. “Trust me, I understand that sentiment all-too-well. And you have my full support, should you need it.”

He expressed his gratitude, and the pair rode in companionable silence for the remainder of the trek, returning to the Grand Necropolis just as the snowfall began to pick up.

-----

Emmrich spoke again as they entered the residential area, “While I can’t say the same for the rest of the evening, I enjoyed our time together.”

They stopped outside Katareth’s door. “Likewise. Um, we should go out more.” The reaper heard her own words and realized how they could be misconstrued with a wince. “I mean—I go to that little Antivan place not far from here with Johanna on Tuesdays and get coffee with Myrna on Saturdays. We could do something like that—if you’re interested, of course?”

He either didn’t notice her misstep, or was too polite to draw attention to it. “I’d love to. Did you-,” he paused, covering his mouth to stifle a yawn. “My apologies, ah, did you have anywhere in particular in mind?”

“Not yet, but we can decide on that in the morning.” It was rather late, and the qunari found her eyelids growing heavier by the minute.

“I'll hold you to it,” Emmrich smirked. “Oh, and one last request: could you wait until I’m at breakfast before telling Myrna about your meeting with Tethras?” he sheepishly asked.

“Of course. We’ll have to wait for Johanna, anyway, as I’m almost certain she’d throttle me if I didn’t,” Katareth snorted.

“Good point. Well, I’ll see you in the morning…” he turned to walk away, stopping briefly with a playful glint in his eyes. “…Rook.”

When she gave him a withering look, the necromancer defended himself, “You have to admit it’s better than ‘Kitty Kat.’”

“Go to bed, Emmrich,” the reaper groaned at his invocation of Johanna’s obnoxious nickname, unwilling to concede. “Your lack of sleep is making you delirious.”

He laughed, and it was the most wonderful music she’d heard all night. “Maybe you’re right… Regardless, sweet dreams, Katareth.”

“Sweet dreams, Emmrich.”

#emmrich volkarin #emmrich x qunari rook #dragon age fanfiction #katareth naletski

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inquisimer · 2 months

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WIP Whenever

I was tagged by a handful of people in WIP games recently, but fell behind on accident and then it became an insurmountable thing to tackle, you know how it goes. So! Starting fresh with a little WIP whenever, from my Zevran/Tabris help Lucanis fake his death pre-Veilguard WIP >:]

tagging forward for whenever! @shivunin | @greypetrel | @dreadfutures | @the-rebel-archivist | and @skinwalkingxana

He could still hear the whistling of her dagger as she flipped it between her hands, waiting for…what? If she’d been told to kill him with flair, or humiliation, she’d just had the perfect opportunity and done nothing.

Well she did say…

“If not to kill me, then what?”

“Oh, I’m just keeping you occupied,” she said casually. “He needed a few minutes of your attention divided.”

“He?”

“That would be me.” Lucanis whipped around as someone new spoke, concerning but also not for the familiar Antivan accent that wrapped around his ears. A black-cloaked elf that could only be Zevran Arainai pulled the cord of the curtains and light flooded back into the room. “Shall we put our blades away and have a civilized conversation? I believe we were invited.”

“You were.” Lucanis pointed to the other elf with his chin. “I have no idea who she is.”

The dagger vanished from the elf’s hands and she hooked a thumb in her belt, holding her cloak back from the badge pinned there. Lucanis sheathed his sword.

“Of course,” he murmured. “Warden-Commander Tabris.”

Ariya let her cloak fall back over the badge. “I don’t really use that title anymore.”

“It is mighty useful in tense situations, however,” Zevran said cheerfully. He swept out a chair and gestured for Lucanis to sit. Grumbling, he retrieved his now lukewarm coffee and joined the elves at the table.

“Took you long enough to get here.”

Now that he wasn’t actively targeting them, Lucanis got a better look at the former Crow and the legend he called a lover. Both were strapped with weapons, as he would have expected. There were the obvious: the catch of her cloak on the hilt of her sword, his daggers strapped flashily on his belt. And there were the more subtle: a hilt all but hidden at the lip of her boots, stiletto blades tucked into her plait, throwing daggers nearly invisible at his wrists.

They’d come prepared. Or they just always traveled with a small arsenal. He would, if he was doing what they had been doing.

Their faces were lined with age and the kind of stress that only sat on those charged with holding the world together. But there was laughter written there too, and love. When they moved, they adjusted to each other naturally, automatically, covering each other’s blind spots without a second thought. Not just covering, Lucanis noted, gaze lingering between the elves. Tabris was actually sitting in Zevran’s blind spot, and he seemed even more relaxed for it.

Blind trust. Lucanis had never given it to anyone. Knowing the Crows, and House Arainai, he could only imagine what it must have cost this woman to earn it. Unwavering loyalty, at least. And a great deal of blood—others, and hers, most likely.

“Ran into a bit of a scuffle at the border,” Zevran said, smiling until Tabris coughed pointedly. “Yes, yes. If you need to call any covert meetings in the future, do try to avoid Rivain, if you would. But enough of that,” the elf clapped his hands together and both their gaze’s sharpened on Lucanis. “I believe we are here to speak of information. And skills. So what does the great Lucanis Dellamorte want from us?”

“And what does he want in return?” Ariya muttered under her breath.

Lucanis sipped his coffee, swirling it with his tongue before swallowing. There would be no going back, once he spoke. Of course, that was rather the point, wasn’t it?

“I’m going to fake my death,” he said. Only the second time he’d spoken it out loud, and it fell from his lips with finality. “I want you to help me do it.”

#my writing #wip whenever #me: this will be a two shot #also me: this is at least 4 chapters now #lucanis dellamorte #zevran arainai #ariya tabris #zevran x tabris #tevinter nights #da4 #<- kind of not really but for the blacklisters lol #dragon age #dragon age fanfic

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felassan · 11 months

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Dragon Age: The Official Cookbook: Tastes of Thedas lore compilation / notes / thoughts [Part 1 of 2]

(Link to Part 2, in text form (pls copy-paste) as Tumblr won't let me add it as a normal link: https://felassan.tumblr.com/post/732826339350102016/dragon-age-the-official-cookbook-tastes-of)

Reference, info & general observations/ramble post ◕‿◕ (Post contents under a cut, in case anyone would rather not read cookbook spoilers. also due to post length)

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

If I have forgotten, misread or misunderstood something, please let me know.

This post is part 1 of 2, as it was getting rly long.

Dishes by type

Starters & Refreshments: Eggs à la Val Foret, Nevarran Blood Orange Salad, Fried Young Giant Spiders, Stuffed Deep Mushrooms, Rivaini Couscous Salad, Crab Cakes from Kirkwall, Fluffy Mackerel Pudding, Snail & Watercress Salad, Cave Beetles

For the Road: Spiced Jerky, Grey Warden Pastry Pockets, Pickled Eggs, Unidentified Meat, Seheron Fish Pockets, Fereldan Hearty Scones, Crow Feed, Black Lichen Bread, Hearth Cakes, Peasant Bread

Soups & Stews: Merrill's Blood Soup, Fereldan Potato and Leek Soup, The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew, Fish Chowder, Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup, Lentil Soup, Nettle Soup, King Alistair's Lamb and Pea Stew

Main Courses: Stuffed Cabbage, Antivan Gnocchi, Antivan Paella, Grilled Poussin, Gurgut Roast with Lowlander Spices and Mushroom Sauce, Nug Pancakes, Fish in Salt Crust, Roasted Wyvern, Nug Bacon and Egg Pie, Starkhaven Fish and Egg Pie, Cacio e Pepe, Turnip and Mutton Pie, Smoked Ham from the Anderfels, Roasted Turkey with Sides

Sides: Sera's Yummy Corn, Stuffed Vine Leaves, Honey Carrots, Nevarran Flat Bread and Yogurt Dip

Sweet Delights: Blancmange, Poison Stings, Dalish Forest Fruit Cobbler, Dwarven Plum Jam, Sour Cherries in Cream, Treviso Energy Balls, Rice Pudding, Goat Custard

Baked Goods: Antivan Apple Grenade, Found Cake, Varric's Favorite Cinnamon Rolls, Croissants, Cherry Cupcakes, Chocolate Cake, Varric's Favorite Pastries, Sugar Cake, Lamprey Cake, Tevinter Pumpkin Bread

Drinks & Potions: Lichen Ale, The Hissing Drake, Hot Chocolate, Antivan Sip-Sip, Dragon Piss, Rivaini Tea Blend, The Golden Nug, The Emerald Valley, Chasind Sack Mead

Notes: These dish 'categories' are from the book contents pages, which can be viewed here.

Dishes by place / culture of origin (DA Cookbook-specific list)

Ferelden: Pickled Eggs, Fereldan Hearty Scones, Fereldan Potato and Leek Soup, Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup, King Alistair's Lamb and Pea Stew, Nug Bacon and Egg Pie, Turnip and Mutton Pie, Chocolate Cake

Kirkwall: Crab Cakes from Kirkwall, The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew, Roasted Turkey with Sides

Orlais: Eggs à la Val Foret, Grey Warden Pastry Pockets, Honey Carrots, Blancmange, Sour Cherries in Cream, Croissants

Tevinter: Unidentified Meat, Stuffed Vine Leaves, Cherry Cupcakes, Tevinter Pumpkin Bread

Antiva: Crow Feed, Fish Chowder, Antivan Gnocchi, Antivan Paella, Cacio e Pepe, Treviso Energy Balls, Antivan Apple Grenade, Antivan Sip-Sip

Nevarra: Nevarran Blood Orange Salad, Nevarran Flat Bread and Yogurt Dip

Rivain: Rivaini Couscous Salad, Goat Custard, Rivaini Tea Blend

Seheron: Seheron Fish Pockets

Starkhaven: Starkhaven Fish and Egg Pie, Roasted Turkey with Sides

Free Marches: Roasted Turkey with Sides

Anderfels: Smoked Ham from the Anderfels

Avvar: Snail & Watercress Salad, Stuffed Cabbage, Gurgut Roast with Lowlander Spices and Mushroom Sauce, Fish in Salt Crust, Roasted Wyvern

Chasind: Grilled Poussin, Chasind Sack Mead

Dalish: Spiced Jerky, Hearth Cakes, Peasant Bread, Dalish Forest Fruit Cobbler

City Elf: Peasant Bread, Lentil Soup

Orzammar / dwarven: Fried Young Giant Spiders, Stuffed Deep Mushrooms, Cave Beetles, Nug Pancakes, Dwarven Plum Jam, Lichen Ale, Black Lichen Bread

Unspecified (DA Cookbook-specific list): Fluffy Mackerel Pudding, Merrill's Blood Soup, Nettle Soup, Sera's Yummy Corn, Poison Stings, Rice Pudding, Found Cake, Varric's Favorite Cinnamon Rolls, Varric's Favorite Pastries, Sugar Cake, Lamprey Cake, The Hissing Drake, Hot Chocolate, Dragon Piss, The Golden Nug, The Emerald Valley

Notes: Fluffy Mackerel Pudding seems to be Fereldan as it's found in DA:O in this Codex entry at the Arl of Redcliffe's Estate in Denerim. Snail & Watercress Salad isn't traditional Avvar cuisine; though snails are standard Avvar fare, this salad which has them in conjunction with other ingredients is Devon's take on snails that they made for their Avvar hosts. The given Spiced Jerky recipe is Dalish, but the book notes that preserved foods like it play an important role in many different Thedosian cultures. Grey Warden Pastry Pockets are a variation on a tough Grey Warden pastry which incorporates the far more delicate Orlesian puff pastry, that was championed by newer Warden recruits from Orlais. Unidentified Meat is usually served with Nevarran Flat Bread. Black Lichen Bread doesn't explicitly say but is clearly dwarven, as it references "underground" versus the "surface" and the dwarf Garin in Orzammar mentions it in DA:O. Peasant Bread is both Dalish and City Elf. Merrill's Blood Soup could be Dalish in origin as it's a recipe of Merrill's. Devon's Lentil Soup recipe has classic Tevinter flavors in it. Roasted Turkey with Sides is found throughout the Free Marches. Sera's Yummy Corn could be Fereldan in origin as it's a recipe of Sera's. Poison Stings is likely Tevinter as Dorian is fond of it. Rice Pudding could be Antivan or Rivaini as in Thedas you don't see much rice outside of Antiva or Rivain, or perhaps Tevinter or Qunari as it was a dish made by Krem, Iron Bull and the Chargers. Found Cake could be Fereldan as it's based on Dog's Found Cake in DA:O. Sugar Cake was purchased from a surface dwarf merchant and is based on Sugar Cake from DA:O (Feraldan dish? Dwarven?). Lamprey Cake was Devon's pickled lamprey-inspired cake, with pickled lamprey itself being a "singular" (implied: odd) favorite of an Orlesian noble. The Hissing Drake, The Golden Nug and The Emerald Valley are drinks served at the Gilded Horn in Orlais. The Emerald Valley's place of origin isn't given in the book, but we know from this Codex that it includes a spirit that is Orlesian, having been made in Lydes. Going by Iron Bull's dialogue with Varric, hot chocolate/cocoa is not from the south and is rare there. Dragon Piss could be Fereldan as it's based on Dragon Piss which is found in Ferelden.

Alphabetical ingredients / 'foodstuffs and drinks which exist in Thedas' list (DA Cookbook-specific list)

Notes: These ingredients are derived from the dish names and the lore blurbs (which appear to be in-world), not the recipes and associated ingredients lists themselves (which appear to be our world/irl-based). Also, this is a sort of scrappy list with mixed singular/plurals, some repeating stuff (e.g. I know pork, bacon, pig and ham is all "pig"), some non-specific stuff e.g. "herbs", and some stuff that is more 'a combo food' than 'a single ingredient' e.g. "dough", but just go with it ok hh, it's just meant to be a quick 'n' dirty reference list as a resource not a perfect culinary thing:

“Bitter greens”, Ale, Almonds, Antivan pasta, Antivan wine, Apples, Apple blossoms, Apricots, Assorted “forest fruits”, Ayesleigh gulabi goat (a breed of goat from which some goat’s milk is derived), Bacon, Bark, Bark bread, Barley, Beetroot, Biscuits, Black cherries, Black lichen, Blended teas, Blood oranges, Brandy, Bread, Buns, Butter (halla and other types), Cabbage, Carrot, Cave beetles, Celery, Chasind Wildwine, Cheese, Cheese sauce, Cherries, Chicken, Chickpeas, Chocolate, Chocolate cream cake, Cinnamon, Cocoa, Cocoa powder, Corn (yellow and non-yellow varieties), Couscous, Cows, Crab, Cranberry, Cream, Croutons, Currants, Custard (many variations), Cuttlefish, Dark bread, Deep mushrooms (several varieties), Dough, Dracolisk? (in one ‘sus meat’ recipe Devon wondered if it could be this), Dried fruit, Dry cheese, Eggs, Egg-white foam (for drinks, due to the The Gilded Horn’s Drink List codex), Fereldan ale, Fereldan barley, Figs, Fish, Flat bread, Flour, Flowers (over 70 different types of herbs and flowers used for food & drink exist), Giant spiders, Giant? (in one ‘sus meat’ recipe Devon wondered if it could be this), Gnocchi, Goat’s milk, Goats, Grains, Grapes, Grease, Gurguts, Halla butter, Ham, Harts, Herbs (over 70 different herbs and flowers used for food & drink exist), Hirol’s Lava Burst (due to the The Gilded Horn’s Drink List codex), Honey, Hot peppers, Jams & preserves, Jasmine flowers, Jerky, Lamb, Lamprey, Leeks, Lemon, Lemon juice, Lemon verbena, Lentils, Lichen (underground and surface varieties), Lichen ale, Licorice root, Llomerryn red, Llomerryn rum (due to the The Gilded Horn’s Drink List codex), Lurkers, Mackerel, Mango, Marshmallow (presumably meaning both the marshmallow plant and marshmallows, the confectionary that was originally made from the marshmallow plant. The form given in the cookbook is Orlesian guimauves, which accompany Iron Bull’s hot chocolate. “Guimauve” is French for marshmallow), Mead, Milk, Mincemeat, Mint, Mushroom, Mussels, Mutton, Nettle, Noodles, Nug, Nug bacon, Nuggets (nug-gets), Nutmeg (due to the The Gilded Horn’s Drink List codex), Nuts, Oats, Oil, Olives, Onion, Orange, Orange peel, Oregano, Pasta, Pastry, Peas, Peanut butter, Peanuts, Pepper (as in black pepper etc), Peppermint, Pickled things, Pickled vegetables, Pie, Pig, Plums, Pomegranate, Pork, Potatoes, Poussin, Prawns, Puff pastry, Pumpkin, Quillback (in one ‘sus meat’ recipe Devon wondered if it could be this, and in DA:I some NPCs mention it), Rabbit, Raisins, Rams, Raspberries, Red bell peppers, Red grapes, Rhubarb, Rice, Rolls, Royal elfroot (due to the The Gilded Horn’s Drink List codex), Rum (due to the The Gilded Horn’s Drink List codex), Saffron, Salt, Semolina flour, Sheep, Shrimp, Smoked meats, Snails, Sour ale, Sour cherries, Spices, Spinach, Spirits (as in alcohol), Strawberries, Sugar, Tea, Toasted bread, Tomatoes, Truffles, Turkey, Turnip, Tzatziki sauce, Vine leaves, Waffles, Water, Watercress, West Hill brandy, Wheat, Whipped cream, Whiskey (due to the The Gilded Horn’s Drink List codex), White chocolate, White frosting, White Seleny wine, White wine, Wildflowers, Wine, Wraps (soft), Wyverns, Yogurt

'See also' / 'did you know':

Eggs à la Val Foret

Fried Young Giant Spiders: previously made an appearance in the DA tabletop. The player party arrives at Chanra Thaig and sees "Bonfires built inside steel drums provide warm and heat for the dwarves huddled around them, cooking deepstalkers, what looks like the legs of giant spiders, and small rodent-like animals on spits". The dwarves have "fuel, water, and domesticated spiders and nugs in deeper chambers for food".

Fluffy Mackerel Pudding

Snail and Watercress Salad

Cave beetle previously made an appearance in the DA tabletop. They're described as "scavengers and carrion eaters", "black" and "hard-shelled". They're also known as "rock beetles" and are "little more than a nuisance on its own. Dwarves are even known to roast and eat them out of the shells".

Pickled Eggs (from "The Whole Nug" in World of Thedas)

Seheron Fish Pockets: Iron Bull has dialogue where he says "I remember one guy, he made these things - fish wrapped in thin bread". He was talking of a street food vendor in Seheron who had been forced by Tevinter spies to poison his food. Fittingly, in the cookbook Devon narrates that they learned this recipe from a Charger.

Black Lichen Bread: Garin from DA:O had an incident a few years back where he cut himself and some raw lyrium dust got into his blood. Since then it's been hard for him to concentrate and he's forgetful. He mentions bread that's made by using lichen (I think he mentioned that his lunch was a slice of lichen bread). interestingly, like lyrium, the cookbook lore blurb for Black Lichen Bread contains reference to how black lichen is toxic.

Hearth Cakes (from "The Whole Nug" in World of Thedas)

Peasant Bread: appears in The Masked Empire. in the Dalish camp, Dalish cooks prepared a midday meal, which was served along with peasant bread. "It was almost equal parts wheat, salt, and grease, and in lean winters, it was sometimes the only thing that could put meat on a peasant's bones." Michel watches an old elven woman drizzle honey across a piece and remembers his City Elven mother putting a bit of sugar she had stolen from the tavern she worked in on his piece of bread. The cookbook lore blurb for Peasant Bread says it is eaten by Dalish elves and City elves alike in Orlais, with the recipe being "very straightforward, calling for wheat, salt, and grease in nearly equal parts". Also, in The Last Court, Seraultine (Orlesian) peasants are described as eating bread at mealtimes

The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew: in a DAII loading screen, it says that the tavern's feature dish is a stew made from a different mystery meat every morning

Fish Chowder: in DA:O Zevran says "Can you smell that? Like rotting flesh. Just like back in Antiva City. Now if only you could find me a prostitute or two, a bowl of fish chowder and a corrupt politician, I'd really feel like I was home!"

Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup (the cookbook lore blurb mentions the Orlesian troupe of actors from the show Wilkshire Downs. in this codex they are mentioned along with "cabbage stew")

King Alistair's Lamb and Pea Stew: Alistair and Leliana have this dialogue in DA:O about this dish (Ctrl-F "pea stew").

Antivan Gnocchi: In Tevinter Nights (Eight Little Talons), the Crow leaders eat gnocchi with dinner

Gurgut Roast with Lowlander Spices and Mushroom Sauce

Nug Pancakes, two

Fish in Salt Crust

Roasted Wyvern. Also Isabela has dialogue in Mark of the Assassin where she says "I hope I'm not expected to eat roast wyvern after this." The lore blurb in the cookbook for this dish also references this Codex

Starkhaven Fish and Egg Pie (from "The Whole Nug" in World of Thedas)

Cacio e Pepe: First mentioned in Tevinter Nights (The Wigmaker Job). Illario complains "This isn't Cacio e Pepe" while making a show of tapping his dagger against a plate of leftovers. Lucanis replies "You ordered an Antivan dish in Tevinter. What did you expect?", to which Illario quips "Something edible".

Turnip and Mutton Pie

Smoked Ham from the Anderfels: a servant in Mark of the Assassin offers Hawke and Tallis "smoked ham from the Anderfels. They say it tastes of despair". Tallis replies "Wait, does it really? How can ham taste of despair? Why would anyone eat it if it did?". The servant explains "That's what the importer said. They all talk like that" apparently. This dish is also mentioned in DA:I. After WEWH Dorian says "I hope you tried the ham they were serving, by the way. Tastes of despair. Fascinating". The cookbook lore blurb asserts that contrary to rumors and what the importers say, this ham does not, in fact, taste of despair. Also, see The Jade Ham (tumblr won't let me add it as a proper link: https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/The_Jade_Ham), as the cookbook lore blurb references this item and its description

Roasted Turkey with Sides: Roast turkey previously made an appearance in the DA tabletop. Lady Sennova hosts a gala/party in Orlais, which players infiltrate/attend and at which food and drink is served. "The Game is about appearances as much as it is about outright treachery, so a dead rat discovered in the roast turkey could serve as a crueler twist of the knife than an actual twisting of the knife". The cookbook lore blurb references the comic Knight Errant, which involves Sebastian's birthday dinner party

Sera's Yummy Corn (from "The Whole Nug" in World of Thedas)

Dwarven Plum Jam: in DA:O a Diamond Quarter noble dwarf says something like "I will die without my favorite plum jam from the surface!" The cookbook lore blurb references the fact that in Orzammar, jam from the surface, especially jams made from plums, are in especially high demand and cost exorbitant prices

Rice Pudding: in DA:I Krem mentions a time when he, Iron Bull and the Chargers defended a village from fifty bandits. Afterwards the villagers paid them for their services in bags of rice. He says that they made rice pudding after that. The cookbook lore blurb references this story of Krem's

(new text block because the previous text block hit a character limit hh)

Antivan Apple Grenade: the cookbook lore blurb references Antivan Fire Grenades (two), which spread sticky fire. maybe it's my brain conjuring up sticky toffee/toffee apples, but I wanna say that this dish would not only be hot but also sticky :)

Found Cake

Varric's Favorite Cinnamon Rolls: in DAII Sandal says that Orana smells of cinnamon rolls, which was interesting to me as DAII is the game where Varric is introduced and his first (and greatest) batch of cinnamon roll friends, the Kirkwall Crew, are featured in

Croissants: Calix and Vaea eat something which arguably look like croissants in the comic Dragon Age: Deception, in an inn in Tevinter.

Cherry Cupcakes: the cookbook lore blurb says these are served by servants on stilts at the Tevinter theature. in the comic Dragon Age: Magekiller, Marius is depicted serving an array of treats and snacks to a Tevinter elite at the Tevinter theatre while on stilts. some of the cupcakes on his tray bear somewhat of a resemblance to the cupcakes in this recipe.

Sugar Cake

Pickled Lamprey: the cookbook lore blurb is referencing the book Last Flight, where Norbert de la Haine and his unfortunate fondness for pickled lampreys is mentioned.

Lichen Ale

The Hissing Drake. the cookbook lore blurb mentions the Gilded Horn

Hot Chocolate: Iron Bull discusses his penchant for this drink with Varric. "How do you guys live without this stuff?" he says. Varric replies "I don't see what the deal is, honestly, but different tastes..." / "Now I just need some hot milk and some of those Orlesian guimauves to put in it" / "Hey, what you do with this 'cocoa' is up to you. I don't need to hear about it"

Antivan Sip-Sip

Dragon Piss, two

Rivaini Tea Blend: In Masked Empire Celene drinks a Rivaini blend of tea containing cinnamon, ginger and cloves, sweetened with honey. the cookbook lore blurb references Celene drinking Rivaini Tea Blend throughout the day to combat headaches, but this tea blend consists of peppermint, lemon verbena, oregano and licorice root. Rivaini tea also crops up here.

The Golden Nug, two

The Emerald Valley

Chasind Sack Mead

Characters mentioned or alluded to in the cookbook

Devon (new character, writer and narrator of the book), Merrill, Alistair, Sera, Varric, Solas, Cassandra, Fenris, Cullen, Sten, Iron Bull, Bull's Chargers, Krem, Nan (possibly, if she is Devon's mother), Norah (possibly, as the waitress at The Hanged Man), Zevran, Morrigan, the Hero of Ferelden, the Inquisitor, Josephine, Paragon Varen, Leliana, Schmooples, the Hero of Ferelden's mabari, Sebastian, Cole, Vivienne, Dorian, Anders, Loghain, Bethany, Hawke, the Couslands, Bodahn Feddic (possibly, as the Sugar Cake item in DA:O is sold by him and Devon narrates that they purchased one from a surface dwarf merchant who said that the Hero of Ferelden purchased some for their companions), Norbert de la Haine, Isabela, Celene, Briala, Gaspard

"Cookbook canon" (notes about the particular worldstate/universe that Devon wrote the cookbook in)

The cookbook was written at some point after the appointment of Divine Victoria, placing it at at least one month after the DA:I base game concludes (at least one month after the defeat of Corypheus). The narrator, Devon, has met and spoken to at least some of the companions & related prominent NPCs, including Varric and Krem. Devon visited Haven.

The HoF was a Cousland. The HoF caught Schmooples for Leliana. Loghain survived DA:O and DA:I, as he's referred to in the present-tense at the time the cookbook is written. Alistair is King of Ferelden. The HoF may have been a lady who romanced Alistair (if you argue that the inclusion of Alistair's love letter to the Warden & the necklace from this merch item as a prop in the photo for Rivaini Couscous Salad as indicator. interesting that the photo where this item is prominently displayed is for the Couscous of all things. back in the day I remember folks calling Cousland "Couscous" hhh).

Hawke was a warrior or rogue and Carver died in the prologue. Hawke was probably Diplomatic. Hawke did not romance Sebastian (in the cookbook he is Prince, and Sebastian reclaims his title as Prince by DA:I unless romanced, in which case he's the Chantry advisor in Starkhaven).

The "worst of [Cullen's] lyrium withdrawals" are mentioned so it could be that the Inquisitor advised Cullen to stop taking lyrium. Cassandra Pentaghast is the Divine. Celene is the Empress of Orlais - possibly ruling "alone" or possibly in the Celene-Gaspard-Briala "work together option", going by "Given how messy Orlesian politics are wont to be, with chevalier cousins vying for the throne and elven handmaids turned both spymaster and lover".

Also, this might be just me and my assumptions or reading of it, but of the companion characters referenced in the book (see section above, Characters mentioned or alluded to in the cookbook), such as Cole, Sera, Merrill, Fenris etc, I feel like it's safe to assume that in this worldstate they were all recruited by the relevant PCs are alive and well (including the Chargers).

Merch items & similar that appear as props or edits in photos

Alistair romance bundle (necklace and letter in Rivaini Couscous Salad. the necklace appears again in Goat Custard. the box can be seen in The Golden Nug)

Grey Warden pendant that shows the griffon heraldry (not sure if this is from the Gear Store or somewhere like Etsy. Grey Warden Pastry Pockets). this reappears in Sugar Cake

Solas Jawbone Necklace (Pickled Eggs. hhhh. unlike in Eggs à la Val Foret the blurb here doesn't mention Solas, but he's repped here anyway by the necklace hanging in the background hh)

Cullen's Lucky Coin (The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew, Stuffed Vine Leaves, Antivan Sip-Sip)

In Nug Pancakes this red Inquisition banner with the handprint is in the background (seems to be from game files/in-game props). the red Inquisition banner appears again in Chasind Sack Mead

In Nug Bacon and Egg Pie, there is a nug in the background, presumably looking on in horror as their spouse has been transformed into a pie

In Turnip and Mutton Pie is a necklace that looks like the one Varric wears

Templar Banner (Roasted Turkey with Sides)

Inquisitor's iconic helmet replica (Roasted Turkey with Sides. hhh, this reminds me of the ones that are props in the queue area for the Dragon Age-not Dragon Age-ride)

In the background of Dalish Forest Fruit Cobbler a nug is peeking out

Antivan Apple Grenade contains a map of Westeros hhh. You can see the Three Sisters, the Neck and the Bite

A physical version of this Thedas map appears at various points e.g. Chasind Sack Mead

DA:I advisors coin set (Tevinter Pumpkin Bread) - for some reason Tumblr won't allow me to add the link to this one as an actual link, but you can find it here: gear.bioware.com/en-eu/products/dragon-age-three-advisors-coin-set

A green orb that I would guess is meant to be reminiscent of the ones Solas has you use during Measuring the Veil (Tevinter Pumpkin Bread)

Inquisition symbol pendant (not sure if this is from the Gear Store or somewhere like Etsy)

(You can get 20% off in the BioWare Gear Store until November 6th using my latest discount code BWCUISINE. After that date check back here for a new code. alternatively, you can use my >tracking link<.)

Some random thoughts

Shoutout to the photo for Starkhaven Fish and Egg Pie. It looks a lot like the illustration in World of Thedas of this dish! you can see that they really took it into consideration when creating this dish/image.

I feel like you can also sense the inspiration in general vibe/feel in Dalish Forest Fruit Cobbler from Dalish Deep Forest Comfort in WoT.

The black and gold theme colors of the cover remind me of when DA:D branding was black and gold.

Recipe pages I have posted that you can view in full: Spiced Jerky, Dalish Forest Fruit Cobbler, Hearth Cakes, Merrill's Blood Soup, Lentil Soup, Peasant Bread, Dragon Piss

Recipe and other pages that were already available to view in full from the official preview pages: intro page, intro page 2, intro page 3, Contents page 1, Contents page 2, intro page 4, Devon's letter, intro page 5, Starters & Refreshments section intro page, Eggs à la Val Foret, Fried Young Giant Spiders, Fereldan Hearty Scones, Nug Pancakes, Roasted Turkey with Sides, Varric's Favorite Cinnamon Rolls, Nevarran Blood Orange Salad recipe (pic), Stuffed Deep Mushrooms recipe (pic), Rivaini Couscous Salad recipe (pic), Crab Cakes from Kirkwall recipe (pic), Fluffy Mackerel Pudding recipe (pic), Snail & Watercress Salad recipe (pic), Cave Beetles

Source of the above information: Dragon Age The Official Cookbook - Tastes of Thedas

If you’re not able to get the book, and there’s a recipe or two in the Contents that you’d like to see/read, let me know and I’ll show you (❁´◡`❁)

Link to Part 2, in text form (pls copy-paste) as Tumblr won't let me add it as a normal link: https://felassan.tumblr.com/post/732826339350102016/dragon-age-the-official-cookbook-tastes-of

A post you may also be interested in: Food and drink lore compilation from Dragon Age: The Last Court

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

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contreparry · 2 months

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Happy DADWC Friday! How about ❝ i don’t feel like a whole person without you anymore. i don’t fucking care if anyone else would say about that. you’re part of who i am now. the most important piece of me. ❞ from your Yearning prompts for whichever characters inspire you/strike your fancy.

Here’s some Zevran/Surana from the corporate!espionage AU for @dadrunkwriting !

He hadn’t realized that there was a live band at the bar tonight.

Bran usually worked on Friday evenings. That was just the way of things- there was either something at the Warden that needed sorting, or something at the university, and even if he had a free night he tended to like to stay in and rest. But inventory was all caught up on at the shop, his advisor encouraged him to take the weekend off so he could come in refreshed Monday morning, and Alistair insisted that he come out with their friends- and even told him to invite Zevran if the man was free. The more the merrier, Alistair declared, and so Bran texted Zevran about his evening plans and Alistair's invitation, put a leash and harness on Barkspawn, and walked over to the bar a few blocks down to join the others for an evening of fun.

But maybe he had miscalculated about the fun?

He didn't dislike live music. Sure, the band might not be his taste, but the singer (an older Dwarven woman with short-cropped hair and a bright smile) was good. She kept things moving, switching between Antivan and Ferelden as she announced songs and bantered with the crowd while also adjusting the balance of the sound ("Angelo, more horn, Angelo!"). It was just that live music tended to draw crowds, and those crowds wanted to dance, and Bran...

Bran didn't dance. Far too self-conscious to even consider it. He sat back at a far table outside, the setting sun's heat sinking into his black cotton t-shirt like butter into hot bread, and he sipped at his beer. He watched the dancers (envied their ease with themselves and their surroundings) and watched his friends.

Leliana had brought her friend Josephine with her, and they danced to every song. Josephine's bright yellow skirt blossomed like a flower whenever she turned, and Leliana took every opportunity to twirl Josephine about. They switched partners often, dancing with whoever they came across, but they always managed to find each other in the end.

Morrigan was at the bar with Alistair with a sketchbook laid out on the bartop and a pencil in her hand. They were arguing- to be more accurate, Morrigan was telling Alistair something, and Alistair kept shaking his head. There was something to his exaggerated movements that suggested that he was playing some sort of joke, or perhaps egging Morrigan on. Barkspawn had planted himself firmly at Alistair's side, mournfully eyeing the plate of cheesy fries Alistair bought from one of the food trucks parked nearby.

Bran was surprised to see Sten at the bar- the man hadn't expressed any interest in relaxation or free time, but he had made himself comfortable at a table with a book and a large, brightly colored slush drink with a tiny cocktail umbrella perched atop it. Bran waved at him and, after a moment, Sten raised his hand and waved back before returning to his book. Oghren's presence wasn't a surprise, but beyond a curt nod and a raised glass, Oghren seemed content to drink his fill, pay his tab, and leave without socializing.

Bran thought he spied Velanna and Sigrun in the crowd of dancers, but it was so crowded that he couldn't make sense of where the bodies ended and began. Sometimes he caught sight of pale blonde hair or a tattooed face, and then it all disappeared once more in the blur of colors and bodies.

There was no Zevran, though, and Bran tried to bury his disappointment with his practical knowledge. Zevran was in Kirkwall visiting a friend (Isabela, the beautiful woman from some of Zevran's pictures) was dealing with some sort of crisis, and he went to check on her. Just a little thing, my darling, nothing to truly fret over- or so Zevran assured him. But Isabela was his dearest friend- his only friend for a long time, if Bran read between the lines correctly- so when Zevran heard a whisper of trouble he was off to assist her. It was rather sweet of him, even if it meant that Bran was going to spend the night drinking by himself because Zevran’s ferry back to Amaranthine was delayed. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to describe himself as a 'home base,' for he had Leliana's jacket, Josephine's purse, Alistair's backpack, and Morrigan's sunglasses piled up at the table beside him. Ha. Now that was a thought.

Sten had the right idea. He ought to have brought a book to pass the time. But instead Bran found his thoughts drifting back to Zevran. He'd asked Zevran to check in on Anders while he was in Kirkwall, seeing as he'd be stuck there for at least another day due to bad weather. Anders was awful at keeping in touch at the best of times, but he was apparently so swamped with work and adjusting to life in the Free Marches that he neglected to even pick up his last paycheck at the Warden. Bran had half a mind to get Nathaniel to figure out the logistical nightmare of getting Anders his money- the man was like a hunting dog when he had a job to do- but Bran figured that he was generally responsible for payroll whenever Duncan was out, so he ought to do it himself. If only Anders would actually answer his phone!

"Ah, there you are, mi amore! I hope you will forgive my tardiness," Zevran whispered in his ear. A tendril of hair brushed against his cheek, followed by a swift peck from a smiling mouth. Bran jolted upright, but Zevran simply caught him, plastering himself to his back and winding his arms around him until he was enclosed in a pair of arms.

"I was certain you wouldn't make it. Something about a weather delay?" Bran exclaimed. He tilted back until his head was cradled in the niche between Zevran's shoulder and neck. Only a few months ago he would have flinched at the thought of cuddling in public. He would have been too self-conscious to even consider the thought, truth be told. But now- now he was simply happy that Zevran was here.

"Choppy seas, but they cleared out by the afternoon and we crossed," Zevran said cheerfully. "The marvels of modern technology. Come, enough brooding in the corner. Dance with me."

It was an order that Bran would obey, even if somewhat reluctantly. Zevran pulled him upright and held his hand as they navigated around tables and patrons. Bran nodded at Alistair when they walked past the bar, and he waved before returning to his intense conversation with Morrigan.

"I can't dance, you know," Bran said as Zevran turned towards him. "No rhythm." Perhaps that wasn't true. It was an untested theory, one that Bran never attempted to look into. At least, not until now. Zevran laughed at his mumbled protest and took his hand.

"We'll see," Zevran promised, and then he swept Bran off his feet. All Bran could see were flashes of color out of the corners of his eyes and Zevran's bright, sharp grin, and all he could hear was the band- and Bran might have lost all sense of direction if it weren't for Zevran's hand on his back. But Zevran made everything make sense. He made everything easy, and as they swept and twirled through the crowd Bran felt himself grin like a fool. It really was that easy, wasn't it?

“You have some sense of rhythm to you after all,” Zevran teased. His breath was warm on his cheek, and Bran nearly melted into his embrace. But instead he let Zevran twirl him out and back into his hold, until his hand rested along Zevran’s shoulder and Zevran kept his own hand on the small of his back. It felt as if it was burning a hole through his shirt.

“Me? You’re doing the hard work,” Bran replied.

“But you’re a fast learner. Look, you already know where to place your feet!” Zevran insisted, but when Bran tried to look down to see what his feet were doing Zevran pulled him closer until they were chest to chest and Bran felt the man's heart beating against his own.

"No, don't look," Zevran said with a laugh, and his breath ruffled Bran's hair. "Feel, don't look!" And because there were so many lights, because Zevran was so close with his golden hair and bright smile, because there was so much to look at- Bran closed his eyes. And dancing felt easier when he didn't have to see, when all he had to do was feel the rhythm of the drums and Zevran's heartbeat. It it was all so easy, when it never had been before. What were the changed variables? The live band, his friends, Zevran? Zevran, definitely Zevran. He wouldn't have left his table if not for Zevran, and now here he was! And it all felt so easy, so right!

He'd never be able to go back to how things used to be, would he? Now that he could dance, now that he knew how exhilarating the rush could be, how could he ever go back to sitting in a corner all night every night? Dancing might even become something like a hobby! Or maybe it was merely Zevran's expert lead and presence that made Bran think along these lines.

"You're having deep thoughts, mi amor," Zevran murmured in his ear. "Has dancing stolen your sharp tongue from you?"

I don’t feel like a whole person without you anymore, Bran thought wildly as he opened his eyes and met Zevran's gaze. I don’t fucking care what anyone else would say about that. You are part of who I am now. The most important piece of me.

"When I catch my breath I'll find a suitable sharp-tongued remark for you," Bran said instead, horrified by the absolute certainty that the thoughts he had, the thoughts he almost spoke aloud, held. He must not think like that- all grim determination and wild romantic declarations. That was... volatile. Unsafe. And he had to be careful, or else... or else...

Zevran leaned in close and kissed him- soft and sweet and barely more than a brush of his lips against Bran's- and smiled wickedly before swiftly turning them and spinning Bran under his arm.

"Then I'll keep you from catching your breath," Zevran declared, and Bran felt as if he might melt into a puddle in Zevran's arms.

#my writing #da drunk writing circle

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ell-vellan · 8 months

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Ooh for the WIP game!! Bull introduces El to Zevran.... and Untitled Document 😈

So as it turns out, I didn't check what "untitled document" was specifically as it was an old doc I recently found again (old enough that El had a different name!). And it's part of the Bull introduces Zevran to El lead-in, just like...longer. 🤣 But some of the details may not line up right. It needs editing for sure.

So you'll get both! Sorry to disappoint it's not something more salacious!

"Hey, kadan. See that elf over there? The one with the tattoo?"

They were sitting in Herald's Rest, enjoying a lull between crises, for once, in their usual corner.

El had to lean out from her seat. She just caught the profile of a swarthy male elf, blond, with an amiable face, his eyes crinkling with laughter as he apparently charmed the bartender. His tattoo wasn’t Dalish, and neither were his clothes – leather, but not a craftsmanship she recognized. "I've never seen him before."

"He's not one of ours. He's just passing through. I met him on a job some five or six years ago. Name's Zevran."

The name rung a little bell in the back of her mind, but she couldn't place it. “That isn't a Dalish name, as far as I'm aware.”

"He's Antivan, not Dalish. Former assassin for the Antivan Crows. Well, former member, anyway. Pretty sure he's still an assassin."

Ellawayn reeled, starting to stand. "An assassin? Here?"

Bull chuckled. "Relax, kadan, he's not here for you. He’s a friend. He left the Crows over ten years ago – and the Crows don't exactly allow their members to leave. Last I heard, he had taken out a handful of their leaders, to boot. So the fact that he's still alive is pretty impressive." Bull took a nonchalant sip from his tankard and said casually, "Guess it's not too surprising that he was one of the hero of Ferelden’s best buddies during the Blight. Helped him take down the Archdemon in Denerim."

El stared at Bull. Mahariel was the most famous elf in an age – that is, until she got herself into this mess – and her personal hero as a girl.

“Pretty sure they’re married now, though,” Bull continued conversationally. “Or whatever the Dalish equivalent is. Definitely seemed like it when I met ‘em.”

Ellawyn lowered herself to the table and hissed under her breath. “He’s – that’s – that’s Zevran Arainai?”

She looked at him again. Other than the daggers strapped conspicuously to his waist and thigh, she wouldn't have initially considered him a threat. He was a handsome older elf, lively and engaging the patrons around him, making them laugh. Bits and pieces of his lyrical accent floated about the bar noise.

“So, funny thing,” Bull continued. “He’s here because I wrote to him.”

“Zev, I'd like to introduce you to Inquisitor Lavellan.”

Zevran stood with a bow. When he spoke, it was with a lilting Activan accent. "My dear lady – your eminence – it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He kissed the back of her hand with the most courtly of manners, as though he were a prince and not a former member of the Crows, and El froze, feeling an absurd blush rush to her cheeks. All of her diplomatic training fled in the face of this charming man – the bonded of the most famous elf in Thedas before her.

Zevran’s golden eyes flashed to Bull, questioning. "But, ah, I thought it was Herald? This is the Herald's Rest, yes?"

"It's both, I'm afraid," she answered with a self effacing smile. "But please. Call me Ellawyn. Neither title really suits me. And anyway…I've heard so much about you, I feel as though we're already acquainted.”

Zevran lifted a mischievous brow at Bull. “Has she, now? What silly tales have you filled the Inquisitor’s head with, my friend?”

Bull laughed heartily. “Not from me!” He cocked his thumb at El. “El’s been hearing about your Warden’s exploits since she was a kid.”

Zevran’s eyes widened on Ellawyn.

“I was perhaps fourteen during the Blight,” she explained. “News of Warden Mahariel’s heroism reached far and wide, even to my clan in the Free Marches. He was a hero to us all.”

Zevran clutched his chest and pretended to stumble backwards. “Oh, you do wound me. Alas, it is not your fault, my dear! But no, I suppose time marches on. Come, come, let us speak somewhere with perhaps fewer ears to overhear. I believe all three of us have many people who want us dead, yes?”

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minilev · 2 years

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tagged by @asynja <3 rules: go to pinterest, search “[your name] core aesthetic” and create a moodboard from the first nine images. no need to mention your name!

tagging @vaulttecvevo @refinedstorage @xbaebsae @cryptcombat @beemot @bl-beater @veinereastath @lyriumrain @smut-goblin @eydika @fadedjacket @wholelottagin @clusterfxckedbysirens @thomasjopsons @lost-poets-poetry @roofgeese @antivan-sip-sip @sidver @quietpainter @hawkfurze and y'all

#tag game #i left team converse for team vans a long time ago tho

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viiisenyas · 2 years

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So here's a small clipping of my first chapter for my new fic The Last Prince of Starkhaven.

I will tag (with no pressure) @psalacanthea, @oxygenforthewicked, @n7viper, @inquisimer, @sulky-valkyrie, @gloriousonemahanon, and YOU !! Yes, you scrolling :D

Guardian, 9:31 Dragon

Goran never favoured the parties hosted by the royal family. It was nothing more than an elaborate way of flaunting what he coveted the most. The throne was rightfully his, and it was plucked from his grasp when his uncle Corbin assumed control of Starkhaven despite his father’s dying wish. He despised him ever since.

The cool breeze kissed Goran’s face as he stood on the balcony. He listened to the idle chatter of the elites, and his grip tightened on the silver chalice when his cerulean eyes landed on his relatives. Corbin was seated at the head of the royal table.

For forty long years, Goran has lived his life under his shadow. He was ridiculed in the council meetings, humiliated at political gatherings, and Corbin relished in it. But he wouldn’t any longer. Not after tonight.

His eyes flitted to the mercenaries hidden among the servants. He made a point to memorise their names and their features. He wanted to thank them properly when this was over. The Flint Company may not have had the reputation of the Antivan Crows, but they were skilled enough.

“Lord Vael,” a feminine voice sounded from his left.

Goran turned his head and his expression softened when he saw Johane approaching from the shadowed corridor.

“Lady Harimann,” he greeted formally, offering a curt nod as she stood beside him. “I suspect you have news?”

Johane nodded, lowering her voice, “The doors have been sealed, and your men await your signal.”

“And what of the guards?”

“They have been diverted to patrol outside the palace.”

Goran took a slow sip of his wine, savouring the taste of the rare vintage. “You have my eternal thanks.”

“So long as your gratitude doesn’t end here. Do not forget who arranged your ascent, Goran.” Johane clasped her hands together, “I would hate to see your reign end faster than the Ferelden Blight.”

He gave her a contemptuous look in response to her thinly veiled threat. “Unlike my uncle, I do not forget who my allies are.”

Goran began to move into the hall towards the royal table, leaving Johane behind. He wore a tight-lipped smile when he passed the feasting nobles, ignoring their sneers. They would never turn their noses up at him again.

“Your highness,” he bowed.

“Nephew,” Corbin greeted in a flat tone. “I take it you’re enjoying the celebrations? I must say, I am surprised you haven’t already indulged in the feast.”

Goran willed himself not to scowl.

“Aye, and now that you mention it, Father… His belt has certainly loosened since last we met,” Carsten jeered, and Adain chortled.

He forced a chuckle and ran his fingers through his brown curls. Imbeciles, he thought. He loathed them just as much.

“Where is Meghan?” Goran asked, looking at the empty seat beside Corbin.

“My wife has been feeling ill as of late,” Corbin reached for a roll of buttered bread. “She is abed.”

“Pity. I would have liked to have seen her tonight, but no matter.” Goran waved his hand dismissively, “I pray that she recovers soon.”

“She doesn’t need your prayers.” Corbin tore the bread into pieces before stuffing one into his mouth. “And I doubt anything coming from your mouth will ascend higher than the ceiling.”

His cousins erupted in boisterous laughter again, and Goran pressed his lips together.

“Your highness,” Goran bowed and turned to move to the centre of the hall.

“If I may have your attention,” he called as he moved his eyes around the room. The hall quieted to a whisper and curious gazes followed him. He watched the assassins move into position. “Tonight, we’ve come together to celebrate Wintersend and give our gratitude to the Maker.” Goran said, “But this blessed day also marks the fortieth year of our Prince’s rule of Starkhaven.”

Goran looked at the mercenaries who were moving behind his relatives as the room was filled with applause.

He shifted his gaze to Corbin, and his expression hardened as he saw the smug grin on his face.

“Long may he reign,” Goran raised his goblet.

#wip wednesday #ff: the last prince of starkhaven #goran vael #corbin vael #johane harimann #it's about to go down y'all 0u0

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skinwalkingxana · 20 days

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Coffee Smell

From @creativepromptsforwriting 's September Monthly Prompts!

This one got away from me a bit (just over 1,000 words!). Featuring my OC from my MgiT/Isekai Dragon Age fic Chaos Theory! I may end up incorporating this into it one day ( or maybe not!)

Why the other three advisor's agreed to hold a meeting this early, Marisol would never understand. The sun wasn’t up yet, and even Chief had grumbled at her, turning around in his bed to go back to sleep instead of his usual demeanor while she got ready for the day. She almost took a blanket with her to wrap herself up in, but could already hear the lecture from Josephine about walking around . So, instead Marisol dressed in the warmest clothes she could and began her trek through Skyhold. The second she pushed the heavy wooden door open, all three sets of eyes fell on her.

“Sorry,” Marisol murmured, voice still heavy with sleep as she tried her best to shut the door behind her as quietly as possible. She failed- the door was so old the hinges let out a long and loud creak, causing her to wince, “ I’m not late am I?”

“No. You’re right on time, actually.” Josephine replied through an exasperated breath.

Marisol knew her well enough now to know that was code for ‘We almost sent a runner after you’. If you’re on time you’re late, if you’re early you’re on time. She hated being late, hated the feeling of making other wait for her, but it couldn’t be helped. She no longer has the luxury of an alarm, and Chief has a routine time he sticks to for his morning walk.

“Yes well, shall we begin?” Leliana took a sip out of her mug after she spoke, delicately cradling it in her hands as she raised an eyebrow signaling for Cullen to begin.

“As you well know, Arl Teagan has offered use of Mulligan’s Quarry so long as we can reclaim it from the bandits that have taken residence there-“

Marisol knew she should have been paying attention, but she felt exhausted. She’s fairly certain this is the earliest she’s ever had to get up. Normally there would be enough time for her to grab breakfast, but it would be some time before that would be served in the hall. It’s been months since she’s had a cup of coffee, too. She could finish an entire pot on her own before, an occasional habit that became more regular when she began her Master thesis. Abuelita used to send her care packages with bricks of Cafè Bustelo, even though Marisol could just as easily walk to the bodega to buy it herself.

Maker, she could smell the smoky boldness of it now, almost taste it even. The memory was so strong Marisol swore the whole war room smelled like coffee. She remembered getting headaches back in Haven from the lack of caffeine, but she’d never hallucinated smelling it. Besides, tea had just enough caffeine that it dulled any sort of withdrawal headache Marisol had.

Josephine had a cup similar to Leliana’s that she was carefully nursing. She brought it to her lips, took a sip, then closed her eyes as if savoring the moment. Suspicious. Marisol watched the two for a moment, then two, before the realization hit her.

“Wait, is that coffee?” Marisol blurted out, interrupting Cullen mid-report.

“It is. My mother just sent a small shipment from our family roaster.” Josephine replied .

“Roaster? Your family has their own personal roaster?” There was no sense in Marisol hiding her disbelief.

“Well… not exactly. The Montilyet’s may be known for our wine, but we also have a smaller investment in a specialty blend of Antivan Roast Coffee. “

Marisol wasn’t sure if what she felt was disbelief that coffee existed in Thedas, or if it was betrayal that it took this long for her to find out. All those months going through withdrawal headaches when there was a source for coffee standing right in front of her.

“Can I.. Have some?” Marisol managed to ask.

“Oh! Of course. Have you had it before? Is this something you had back in your homeland?” Josephine turned to a small tray on the table, pouring Marisol a cup, “I do hope you don’t mind it black, we still don’t have a steady enough supply line for cream but there is some sugar-“

“Josie, I used to drink a pot a day in college by myself.” Marisol took the plain cup in hand, breathing in the scent as she fought the urge to down it in one go. “ If I couldn’t drink coffee plain I don’t think I would have survived.”

“Truly? An entire pot?” Josephine looked surprised. “How did you sleep at night?”

“Well, when you get used to it doesn’t always have the same effect. Whenever I had to pull an all-nighter I sometimes had to have two pots to stay awake, or switch to espresso.”

“I... see. Well, in that case, feel free to help yourself.”

The smell alone was enough to invigorate her. Marisol inhaled the scent one more time, noting a faint nuttiness before taking a small, appreciative sip. It didn’t have as bold of a taste as she was used to, but it was still full-bodied, with a tender note of cinnamon-sweetness to it. It instantly brought a warm smile to her face.

“Oh sweet Maker, not you too,” Cullen rolled his eyes.

“The Commander does not like it.” Leliana bemusedly spoke over her own cup.

“Like it? I don’t know how any of you drink it! It tastes burnt.” He argued.

“Sounds like you haven't had good coffee then,” Marisol took another sip, “And this is good coffee.”

Cullen scrunched up his face in response. “There’s no such thing.”

“That’s fine with me, it means we don’t have to share.” Marisol protectively hid her cup away from Cullen as if he would take it from her as she finished it off.

She hip checked him,-ignoring the fact he was twice her size and wearing metal armor-, before immaturely sticking her tongue out in the process. She moved between where Cullen and the tray of coffee sat, then turned her back to him before topping off her cup.

“Josephine, I will name my firstborn after you if you can get us a regular supply of this.”

The proclamation brought a small blush to the ambassador’s cheeks, “I will see what I can do.”

Marisol heard a rustling of papers behind her before feeling a small whack atop her head. “Hey!”

She turned to Cullen, seeing him fighting a playful smirk behind mock-anger, “Need I remind you we have work to do?

“Does that work involve more coffee?” Marisol managed to raise her arm in defense before Cullen could swat at her again. “Kidding!”

#dragon age inquisition #OC: Marisol Ramirez #my writing #the advisors are all siblings #also Marisol is not Inquisitor #Evie's not here because she's out closing rifts or something I guess #I'm sure my half-antivan Trev would be upset to miss out on coffee #Josie get on the coffee supply chain #dragon age #cullen x oc #<- if you squint #they become friends long before they become lovers #i will finish Chaos theory at some point but this was a nice break from chapter hell #seriously I love Haven so much but intros are awkward #i just want to get to the interpersonal relationships already #but they gotta meet first

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exhausted-archivist · 1 year

Text

Cookbook Sample Preview...

I'm perfectly normal about this, totally calm. But I noticed on Sunday that the Dragon Age official cookbook had a preview/sample that it didn't have last time I checked. To summarize, it shows the Table of Contents and 7 new preview recipes along with 2 from an earlier sample release. It's basically previews the whole first section "Starters and Refreshments".

I will be putting things under cuts in case people don't wanna see things. From now on and after its release, the tag I will be using for the cookbook if you want to block is #tastes of thedas or #da: tot

I will also be silently combusting inside as I try not to let the excitement amp me up too much. I expect to fail this mission lol. (Spoiler I did fail and have been making my excitement everyone's problem.)

So, the cookbook sample. Amazon had a scrolling preview that wasn't as nice as the spreads so I made them into spreads like we got with the previous six recipes. You can see them here in this post.

But the following is the full spread of the sample from the cookbook. It gives us the cover, the two title pages, the table of contents, an introduction of a new character/narrator, the table of contents for the Starters and Refreshers section, and the 9 recipes within that section.

Beneath the images, I have transcribed the lore blurbs of the recipe as well as give an image description, but I didn't type out the recipes. That's for a later post (Also because it doesn't fit on this post. I hit the limit, sorry.) For a similar reason, I'm not adding my commentary to any of the recipes.

Contents

Introduction - 7

Starters & Refreshments

Eggs à la Val Foret - 11 Nevarran Blood Orange Salad - 13 Fried Young Giant Spider - 15 Stuffed Deep Mushrooms - 17 Rivaini Couscous Salad - 19 Crab Cakes from Kirkwall - 21 Fluffy Mackerel Pudding - 23 Snail & Watercress Salad - 25 Cave Beetles - 27

For the Road

Spiced Jerky - 31 Grey Warden Pastry Pockets - 33 Pickled Eggs - 35 Unidentified Meat - 37 Seheron Fish Pockets - 39 Crow Feed - 43 Black Lichen Bread - 45 Hearth Cakes - 47 Peasant Bread - 49

Soups & Stews

Merril's Blood Soup - 53 Fereldan Potato and Leek Soup - 55 The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew - 57 Fish Chowder - 59 Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup - 61 Lentil Soup - 63 Nettle Soup - 65 King Alistair's Lamb and Pea Soup - 67

Main Courses

Stuffed Cabbage - 71 Antivan Gnochi - 73 Antivan Paella - 75 Grilled Poussin - 77 Gurgut Roast with Lowlander Spices and Mushroom Sauce - 79 Nug Pancakes - 81 Fish in Salt Crust - 83 Roasted Wyvern - 85 Nug Bacon and Egg Pie - 87 Starkhaven Fish and Egg Pie - 89 Cacio e Pepe - 91 Turnip and Mutton Pie - 93 Smoked Ham from the Anderfels - 95 Roasted Turkey with Sides - 97

Sides

Sera's Yummy Corn - 103 Stuffed Vine Leaves - 105 Honey Carrots - 107 Nevarran Flat Bread and Yogurt Dip - 109

Sweet Delights

Blancmange - 113 Poison Stings - 115 Dalish Forest Fruit Cobbler - 117 Dwarven Plum Jam - 119 Sour Cherries in Cream - 121 Treviso Energy Balls - 123 Rice Pudding - 125 Goat Custard - 127

Baked Goods

Antivan Apple Grenade - 131 Found Cake - 133 Varric's Favorite Cinnamon Rolls - 135 Croissants - 137 Cherry Cupcakes - 139 Chocolate Cake - 141 Varric's Favorite Pastries - 143 Sugar Cake - 145 Lamprey Cake - 147 Tevinter Pumpkin Bread - 151

Drinks & Potions

Lichen Ale - 155 The Hissing Drake - 157 Hot Chocolate - 159 Antivan Sip-Sip - 161 Dragon Piss - 163 Rivaini Tea Blend - 165 The Golden Nug - 167 The Emerald Valley - 169 Chasind Sack Mead - 171

Conversion Charts - 173 About the Authors and Photographers - 174

Introduction

Dear Mum,

It's me, Devon! I'm all grown up now-- or, well, more grown up than before. You always said I was too much like a child for my own good, and given the number of times you caught me daydreaming about going off on some grand adventure instead of sweeping the floors, I will grudgingly admit that you probably - probably - had a point. But guess what? I finally went on an adventure! A big one! Just like the Hero of Ferelden!

Okay, well, maybe not exactly like the Hero of Ferelden. But I did travel across Thedas! From Ferelden to Orlais, to Rivain, and even Tevinter. Plus, everything in between. It was a long journey, Mum. Weeks and weeks on the road, with the occasional bandit or beast. You'd probably have hated it, but, by Andraste, I loved every second of it! The sights! The sounds! The food.

Oh yes, the food. The reason why I set out on this journey to begin with. I know that I wasn't particularly adept in the kitchen the last time we saw each other. And, yes, I do remember that I nearly set Castle Cousland aflame with my first attempt at a stew. But I am pleased to inform you that I have been practicing extensively, and I think that, if the position still existed, I could take up your mantle as the Cousland family's cook. Granted, I doubt I would be able to fill your shoes completely; no one could manage such an impossible task. But I like to tell myself that I still would be able to make you proud.

And that takes me back to this journey and the all-important question of why. Why did I spend the last year traveling from one end of Thedas to the other, sampling whatever local cuisine I could get my hands on, even dishes that were downright strange? You're probably thinking that it's because the Hero of Ferelden ate it at some point - yes, that's certainly part of it, though I'll have you know that I tracked down foods enjoyed by the Champion of Kirkwall and the Inquisitor as well! Not to mention all their companions. But the truth is, Mum, throughout all of this, you were right there with them at the forefront of my mind. Because when I thought of ways to honor you, I kept coming back to the most important lesson you taught me: Love through food.

Every time I left your kitchen with a warm, full belly, I felt your love for me. And though I can't do the same for you anymore, I can fill this book. I can stuff it full of different recipes, dishes you've probably never even heard of, and think of you with each new entry. Because, you see, Mum, underneath all that childlike excitement, the dreams of adventure and heroism, I'm still very much your child. And I always will be.

Thank you for everything, Mum. I can't wait to share this book and the lessons that inspired it with the rest of the world.

Love, Devon

Starters & Refreshments

Eggs à la Val Foret

Image Description: A pancake with ham and a sliced poached egg with paprika and herbs on top sit on a silver platter.

Recipe Blurb: Ah, yes. Tons of cream! Exactly what I've come to expect from Orlesian cuisine. Do I have any tips for creating the perfect poached egg? Well, ever since I heard that Solas's bald head was once likened to an egg, I simply try to make my eggs just as round and shiny! So far, it's worked wonderfully and never ceases to put a smile on my face.

Nevarran Blood Orange Salad

Image Description: A wooden bowl rests on a rock, it holds a colourful salad with blood orange slices resting on top.

Recipe Blurb: Although I knew that Divine Victoria left behind a life of wealth and privilege to join the Seekers of Truth, it wasn't until I was in Nevarra, seeing exactly what she'd given up, that I truly gained an appreciation for the path she'd chosen. The best way to describe my first glimpse of the gardens of Nevarra is that it was like seeing a painting come to life. For a long moment, I could only stand there, so dazzled by the richness and vibrancy of it all that I was half-convinced I was actually still napping in the carriage. Surely, there was no way such beauty could be found outside of a dream. And yet the beauty before me was very much real.

So, too, was the picturesque tableau that arrived later that day on a plate: perfectly cut slices of blood orange artfully arranged on a lush pillow of bitter greens. Was this a meal or a still life, I wondered. In truth, the answer was both. For Nevarrans, food is as much a feast for the eyes as for the mouth. But even if your arrangement isn't quite worthy of being displayed in a museum, this salad will sing a symphony on your tastebuds.

Fried Young Giant Spiders

Image Description: A metal bowl filled with salad greens and fried crab legs arranged on top. Plate sits on a wooden table with a metal item and a smoking pot in the background.

Recipe Blurb: Just as people on the surface raise cows and goats, the dwarves underground raise spiders. Yes, to eat. The legs are fried and served with a sauce, which, true to dwarven fashion, is made with some type of alcohol. The precise kind depends on the establishment where you're eating your spider legs. Unfortunately, I couldn't get an exact recipe from any of the chefs I spoke to. These sauces are apparently closely guarded secrets and have spurred many a nefarious plot to acquire them-the competiontion to be crowned Orzammar's Best Sauce is fierce. But I've been assured that lichen ale is generally not used.

I've therefore come up with my own recipe, based on the many varieties I sampled while in Orzammar. Given that sourcing the requisite spider legs above ground is not nearly so easy, and the demand for such exports is minimal, I've subsituted them with crab legs. It's not a perfect match, but it's close enough to satisfy me.

Stuffed Deep Mushrooms

Image Description: Three mushroom caps fulled with a green, cheesy blend topped with chives. Placed on a platter that looks like a cut of wood, red capped mushrooms with white spots in the right hand corner in the foreground.

Recipe Blurb: Though the mushrooms growing underground in caves and in many parts of the Deep Roads are all called "deep mushrooms," there is no singular variety. In fact, there are several! Some mushrooms are squat, with broad, flat caps, while others are long and spindly, reaching toward the sky like an old man's gnarled fingers. They also have a multitude of applications, used in the creation of everything from restorative potions to deadly poisons. But in Orzammar, mushrooms are farmed for eating!

I was able to sample some of these dwarven delicacies, prized for their unique flavor and intoxicating scent. After only a few bites, I was struck with inspiration. How delicious would one of these mushrooms be when stuffed with cheese and spinach? The answer is: very. Rest assured that I selected this particular variety of deep mushroom not only for its shape, which is ideal for holding the maximum amount of cheese (and spinach), but also for the fact that it does not carry the darkspawn taint. While certain dwarves will insist that a deep mushroom's proximity to lyrium and darkspawn can only improve its flavor, I am quite content to leave that particular question a mystery, especially where lyrium is concerned. Although I'm hardly and expert on the stuff, I can't help but think about Fenris and how much suffering he endured as a result of his lyrium-infused markings. It seems to me that, barring any natural resistance, lyrium and the body are two things that probably shouldn't mix.

Rivaini Couscous Salad

Image Description: A copper bowl filled with couscous, mixed with various veggies and a mint leaf on top. A letter with an amulet from Alistair in the bottom left corner - merch from the BioWare store.

Recipe Blurb: When I first encountered couscous, I mistakenly believed it to be a grain, like rice or the more familiar Fereldan barley. I was swiftly corrected. In fact, couscous is a sort of pasta, made with semolina flour and water, although it's far smaller than your typical Antivan pasta. Couscous has a very mild flavor on its own--maybe slightly nutty. But where it excels is in its ability to soak up surrounding flavors, making it a perfect base for any salad. I'd love to experiment further, but so far, this particular combination of red bell pepper and mint has proven to be incredibly pleasing.

Crab Cakes from Kirkwall

Image Description: A caste iron pan over a bed of coals and flames, filled with battered soft shelled crabs, red peppers, and lemon slices.

Recipe Blurb: I love it when recipes add a dash of whimsy into the mix. Food shoulf be fun. I, therefore, took it upon myself to put this into practice with a classic Kirkwall dish. After all, who hasn't looked at their crab cakes and wished they looked a little more like crabs? Okay, maybe I'm the only one who's thought this. But now that I've brought this possibility to your attention, I'm certain you're interested as well! Best of all, these extra-crabby crab cakes stay true to the original recipe's flavors, so nothig is lost--only gained!

Fluffy Mackerel Pudding

Image Description: Two red small bowls with baked masked potatoes and a slice of hard boiled egg on top sit on a net with a starfish in the background.

Recipe Blurb: Can it really be Feast Day without fluffy mackerel pudding? No! In fact, there's no dish I associate more strongly with the holiday than this unique combination of mackerel, onion, celery, and eggs. Granted, I've heard stories that, several decades ago, someone once attempted a diet consisting entirely of fluffy mackerel pudding. Now, that I certainly wouldn't recommend. It stops being Feast Day Fish if you eat it every day, no?

Snail & Watercress Salad

Image Description: A wooden bowl resting on a river rock, filled with a salad comprised of mixed greens, radishes, and cooked snails.

Recipe Blurb: When the Avvar can't get their hands on a gurgut or a wyvern, they turn their attention to smaller prey. Much smaller prey. Snails are found on many a hillside boulder, making them an abundant source of food for the Avvar. Now, while some would wrinkle their noses or cry out in disgust at the prospect of eating a snail, I am pleased to report that, when prepared correctly, the texture. and flavor are actually good! I could happily eat a plate full of snails dressed in butter and oil, but those still on the fence about a snail's place

Cave Beetles

Image Description: A carved bowl holding cooked whole prawns, lemon slices and herbs sit on a rock with fake beetles and a black rock with blue glowing lines in the background.

Recipe Blurb: You think that, after snails, I'd balk at beetles? Never! In fact, I greatly enjoyed this dwarven dish, which involves roasting cave beetles in their shells. However, I recognize that many may not have a palate that's nearly so adventurous. If that's the case, the cave beetles can be replaced with whole prawns while keeping the rest of the recipe the same. That being said, if you do enjoy the variation with prawns, I really recommend giving the cave beetles a try. They're quite similar in both texture and flavor. If you were to blindfold yourself, I doubt you could tell the difference!

#dragon age #dragon age cookbook #da: tot #da: tastes of thedas #tastes of thedas #long post #I am so excited this is just so good so far #I almost have bingo #archi is yelling into the void #I see that it mentioned it taking a year to traverse Thedas and we will all ignore that. Thank you.#I have feelings and observations which is for another post lol

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