#at least give me an in game explanation of why the inquisitor would Know this right away

[ffc1cb]

i’ve always found it peculiar how during meeting the chargers cutscene the game just assumes your character automatically understands what krem is talking about when he mentions binding (though, granted, it’s all very unsubtle). like, this is a roleplaying game. what if i want to play a character who just doesn’t get it

[tathracyn]

@ziracona has been playing through Dragon Age and we’ve been talking about our different experiences. R just reached the Well of Sorrows quest and aftermath, and asked about my opinion on it, because Boy Do I Have An Opinion. 

R, this is for you. 

God, where do i even start. First off is the fact that you've found one of the last undisturbed remnants of pre-Dalish culture... and you're forced to desecrate and defile it. That's it. You find a holy site, and the story makes you ruin it completely. Because fuck elves and fuck their culture. You don't get to preserve your heritage; the living culture residing within this untouched temple will hate your guts and then you have to violate this sacred place.

There's also Morrigan's extended rant about how she's the "only one who can use it" and she "deserves its power " or whatever, which is fucking appropriation and she's doing it right in front of a Dalish Inquisitor! She claims, in front of two elves, that she knows their culture better than they do and that she deserves to take it for herself. And!! Even if it's true that she's researched elven history more than Ahsra!! Whose FUCKING fault is it that, human. Where did our history go, huh??

And then you drink from the well, and oops! It turns out??? It makes you a literal slave to your gods! Hey yall, at LEAST half a dozen of the elven gods were slavers! They were evil! Because of COURSE they were, every FUCKING faction in Thedas is slavers it feels like! Nobody gets to have culture they can be proud of, they're all evil and cruel and you should hate them!

And what do we even get from it??? Super special secret knowledge that essentially boils down to "If: Blight, Then: Kill Dragon". Really??? That's the ancient knowledge I committed atrocities against my own cultural heritage for?? You're telling me that between the Wardens' knowledge, ALL the mages of Ferelden, Solas's magical expertise, our knowledge of how Red Lyrium works, and EVERY OTHER FUCKING RESOURCE WE HAVE, not a single fucker could piece that together? Fuck that. I consider that bad, forced writing that ignored the obvious alternatives in order to force you into their agenda.

And then Flemeth/Mythal. Turns out, the goddess of motherhood and justice is an abusive parent And a literal slaver who abandoned her own people for thousands of years in pursuit of mindless vengeance and cruelty! Why? Who knows! She doesn't even TRY to give you an explanation! She completely dodges the question, because why would they bother telling players! They don't need to know why one of their gods is suddenly a horrific, terrible person!

Fucking. All of this is awful and I hate it, but its made even worse when set against the radically increased pro-chantry mindset the rest of the game has. The connotations I got from the whole shitshow were "Look at these foolish pagans, worshiping wicked idols and practicing vile slave magics. Look at the atrocities of their cultures and condemn them for being stupid enough to follow them still." You play a Dalish? Fuck you, your gods are evil slavers, your religion is a lie, your culture is written by stupid children, and you're nothing. Die mad about it.

It's so degrading to elven characters. It's such a kick in the teeth.

[5lazarus]

Masterlist of My Stories

My Writing

Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, I post a snippet of what I'm currently working on.

On Mondays, I post the last lines of the stories I'm finishing up, as well as lessons learned from the previous week. I post this under the tag #last line monday and #lessons from the week.

On Wednesdays, I throw up a snippet of fanfiction. I post this under the tag #wip wednesday.

On Fridays, I write at least seven lines of my own stories, either poetry, essays, or fiction. I post this under the tag #seven line friday.

On Sundays, I post at least six lines of fanfic. I post this under the tag #six sentence sunday.

For more information about me, check out my About Me page. I don't answer personal questions unless I share an asklist, I don't take prompts unless I share a promptlist, and I don't keep anonymous asks on. I've also made two promptlists--one a writing challenge, the other a list of poetry prompts! Find my work archived and updated under hes5thlazarus on Archive of Our Own.

Below is a catalogue of my stories, broken down by fandom (Dragon Age, Harry Potter, Star Trek):

My Dragon Age Stories

There Is No Ithaca Three moments where Solas loses his home: Solas wrecks his revolution on the altar of Mythal. Solas returns from war to find Ghilan’nain incubating the Blight within their own home. Fen'Harel negotiates the end of the world with the Thaig of the Bastion of the Pure. Answers to various asks from brightoncemore's wonderful promptlist.

Ultramarine Sylaise attempts to trademark the color blue, initiating a civil war. Fen'Harel disapproves. Felassan, at this point, is just along for the ride. Highlights include: Andruil attempts to create biological weapons out of the conquered children of the stone and sell them to absolutely everyone, Mythal may or may not involve, Solas greatly disapproves, and everyone wants to kill Fen'Harel for disapproving. Also an explanation as to why Solas has to think before answering Sera on whether he has ever pissed magic by accident. Sorta a love story, sorta a comedy, sorta a story about political intrigue--but hey, Solas said Arlathan was even worse than Orlais! A big thank you to potatowitch and isomede for talking me through this and getting me to finish it--and for giving me the best ideas for it.

Overheard at the Hanged Man Thirty-one stories written in Nightmare-mode for Beyond the Veil's 2020 Artober Challenge, ranging through the entire series, from Arlathan before the Blight to the Chargers in Serault.

Alistair the Accidental Heretic Alistair gets bored during morning prayer and starts changing the words of the Chant as he sings. Mother Prudence and Knight-Commander Greagoir are less than pleased, and soon he finds himself tripping up over accidental heresy even within the kitchens of Kinloch Hold. It's not easy, being a half-elf templar with a conscience, because even having a sense of humor is heresy.

The Starkhaven Crier A portrait of two future apostates at ten-year-olds: Jowan and Surana are bored, get dragged to the Chantry for the good of their souls, and accidentally make the new girl from Starkhaven cry. Featuring Surana determined to be the one Dalish against letting the Maker come back, the self-hating mage in the Surana/Amell origin as the Starkhaven Crier, and the same Mother Prudence who sent Alistair to bed without supper. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Morrigan at the Crossroads Morrigan reaches her breaking point, confronted with the one person she cannot flee: her six-week-old son, who cannot be soothed back to sleep, struggling in the Crossroads. From a prompt musettta3 sent me.

Shartan's Riddle Surana talks Mahariel through writing Leliana, after Leliana leaves to work for the Divine. Shartan promised them a home, and Mahariel worries Leliana, devout as she is, cannot give it to her. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Winter in Amaranthine The Wardens' companions decide to leave, and Warden-Commander Arana Mahariel cannot find a reason good enough to tell them no. Meanwhile, letters between the Warden and Leliana get lost in translation, and Arana makes it worse. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Palimpsest Velanna and Sigrun fight some darkspawn, talk around the past, and write some letters. Written as a gift for hellbell, for the Sapphic Solstice 2021 Gift Exchange.

Phosphorescence A Despair demon in the Foundry district is clogging up the whole city with a miasma of misery. Justice runs into an old friend of his, during Anders' first few weeks in Kirkwall, and the three set to work. Heavy-handed allegory abounds, but, Justine opines, that’s the Dreamers’ fault. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Labyrinth "Anders made no attempt at escape during the years they were together." This story is meant to explore everything absolutely horrible about that statement. If the core part of Anders' identity is his refusal to submit to imprisonment, then perhaps listening to Karl was a violation of his sense of self. Things get better, and then things get worse.

Kirkwall Thunderstorm Family squabbling as the storm sets in, Hawke flees to face the thunderstorm head on, and laughs, because what's more to life than this, chasing a storm all the way down to the harbor? From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Debutante Leandra manages Hawke's debut ball, and surprises herself by having a lot of fun. From an OC ask I decided to turn into a prompt.

Dregs Anders baits Varric, or Varric baits Anders, both drunk at the Hanged Man. There's no resolution to an argument when they're both just angry, thinking about dead mages. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

The Scent of Pomegranates Merrill brings a pomegranate to the Hanged Man, to try and capture some of the way her clan celebrated the new year. Fenris is oddly moved. Written for the DA Den's 2020 Holiday Gift Exchange.

Anders in Autumn Anders and Fenris, over the course of one gorgeous autumn in Kirkwall, find common ground, a common goal, and even tenderness, as the city grows cool and vibrant in the changing of the year. Justice returns to the streets of Kirkwall, one way or another, and it is as transformative and loving as justice truly is. An answer to an Artober challenge from cozy-autumn-prompts

Warp & Weft Anders wakes Fenris up in the middle of the night talking, and then not wanting to talk, about weaving. What they remember and what they have forgot climb into the bed with them. A gift for potatowitch.

Landlocked Merrill goes looking for Isabela after a night of drinking at the Hanged Man, and finds her considering the sun rising over the horizon at the docks. They're landlocked and the salt's drained them both dry, but maybe it's not all been a waste. They're shipless, not shipwrecked. Part of a personal challenge to write more femslash, after realizing how little there is in Dragon Age fandom.

Love and Red Ink Varric tries his hand at a more literary Bildungsroman about his youth as a Kirkwall bohemian. Bianca tears it apart, editing for his own good. Sometimes love is in the margins, your almost ex-girlfriend telling you--I wasn't that pretty, when I was that young.

The Most Boring Sex Party in All Orlais Josephine and Leliana both admit the night they met ended with someone's smallclothes pinned to the Chanter's Board--but what happened right before? Josephine says, “I have played the Game before, and understand its cutthroat stakes. But I must admit, I never thought I would witness the opening salvo of a coup at the most boring sex party of all Orlais.”

Catabasis Kirkwall's in ashes and Hawke and their friends are on the run. Varric might have ended the story at the docks, but the conflict continues. The question persists: should they separate? And what brought them together in the first place? From a series of prompts ellie-effie and musetta3 sent me.

The Domestics Alistair runs into an older elven woman on the battlements, watching the children play in the Skyhold courtyard below. They get to talking: isn't it nice that the mages get to keep their children now? Then, in the course of the conversation, Alistair figures it out. Alistair says, “I always wondered. What my life would’ve been like, if she could’ve kept me. I always kinda knew she didn’t have a choice. King’s bastards are the king’s, not whoever carried them. If she were a servant and if I’d end up in the kitchens or, better yet, the dairy. I really like cheese. But if she were a mage, I guess we never had any of that. Unless she ran away.”

The Bane of Red Crossing In the astrarium cave in the Storm Coast with Inquisitor Lavellan, Cole, and Solas, Sera opens a chest and finds a beautiful bow, named the Bane of Red Crossing. But what is the Bane of Red Crossing? According to the codex: "Ser Yves de Chevac used this bow in the Exalted March against the Dales – specifically, in the liberation of Val Royeaux, where the chevalier famously struck down the elven forces' commander with a shot to the throat at two hundred feet." Lavellan is not pleased, but does not know how to communicate effectively with Sera. Cole and Solas make it worse. Sometimes there is no adequate resolution, when you are faced with the instrument of your great-grandparents' destruction. Sometimes there is nothing that disinterested compassion can say.

To the Victor the Spoils In the Skyhold gardens, in Adamant's wake, Solas meets Loghain. A character study of two trickster-kings, speaking a little too honestly. As Loghain himself says, "The past is always with us. It’s in our bones and our blood and we wear it on our skin. You can think otherwise, but you’ll never get far without it."

Dead Man Hiking Solas broods over what has been lost. Dorian interrupts, and Solas dangles hidden knowledge in front of him like a carrot. They both take the bait, because, as irritable and sad Solas can get, "he wants to give wisdom, not orders," and Dorian loves to learn. Written for Beyond the Veil's 2020 Satinalia Gift Exchange.

So Much Lore! So Much Information! Dorian has a wonderful conversation with the Skyhold Librarian about improvements to the library's filing system and the innovations coming out of Minrathous when Vivienne comes by and points out he's just talking to himself. He's been waxing rhapsodic about the Tevinter equivalent of the Dewey decimal system to a spirit--or maybe a demon. So clearly they must investigate.

Dirthara Ma! May You Learn After the Exalted Council, Solas stops for a drink and a sulk in a quiet tavern in Ostwick. He is convinced no one will ever recognize him with a full head of hair and a beard. Then the Inquisitor walks in. The first in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series.

White Nights A year after Trespasser, Lavellan takes a new lover to a quiet inn in Val Royeaux. She steps out to the balcony for a quick smoke under the stars, looks over to the balcony adjacent to hers--and who is there but the Dread Wolf himself, slightly disguised, with a glass of wine? Despite themselves they talk, and do not stop talking. “Entertain me,” Solas says. “What ending will Master Tethras write for us? Because I do not know how to leave this gracefully. Though I suppose any ending is better than the last one, when I left with your arm.” The second and most comprehensive in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Ligaments Briala has loaded her dice when playing the Game. Gaspard throws her in prison, but her message goes out to both the Dread Wolf, keen to better his reputation for catastrophe amongst the elves of Orlais, and the Dalish Inquisitor, who is still reeling from the loss of her arm. “We do not necessarily know he is the enemy,” Leliana says. “And it is exciting, no? To have that rush of danger and destruction between every kiss.” The third in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Out From Under the Dread Wolf's Eye Briala and Merrill try and steal an eluvian out from under the Dread Wolf's eye. It doesn't quite work, but that doesn't mean the day's a failure, not when there's dinner to be had and a connection to explore. Written as a gift for hellbell, for a prompt they gave for the Sapphic Solstice 2021 Gift Exchange, but not submitted to the collection.

The Domesticities Solas adjust to a new, gentle love that has gripped his heart and will not let him go: a Lavellan who heralds a world he did dream of, and learns how to survive grief and his own betrayal, learns how to surrender the high moral ground and focus on the domesticities. A series of Solas-POV ficlets from my story, Fen'Harel's Teeth, where Lavellan is a mother and leader in her own right, and barely keeping her head above the water of her own deep grief. Not in chronological order!

He Who Hunts Alone Solas will restore the Elvhen People as he knew them, even if this world must die. It is his only purpose as he understands it. But a magical accident leaves him in another world, where a version of himself has made a very different choice. Solas is forced to reckon with a desire he has never let himself explore. Inquisitor Tara Trevelyan, both his friend and adversary, is dragged with him, as they move from their world, to a world where Solas seems to have won it all, to another that seems both their worst nightmare. Inquisitor Tara Trevelyan: the rebel apostate mage, romanced Josephine Inquisitor Imladris Lavellan: the Dalish First, romanced Solas, featured in Fen'Harel's Teeth Inquisitor Brigid Trevelyan: the faithful Andrastian prophet, rogue and noble, Tara's sister, romanced Blackwall and then Cullen Written in tandem with my partner, batsy22-me, and likewise abandoned when we got bored of it.

Fen'Harel's Teeth First Lavellan, Imladris Ashallin, thought that her audience with the Divine against templars' harassment of Dalish mages would be a token protest, and that her people would use it to draw the city elves closer to the Vir Tanadahl. She didn't think her Keeper's calculations would catapult her to the top of the Chantry's leadership, manipulating the powers of Thedas to leave her people be. Meanwhile, Briala foments revolution in Halamshiral, using the eluvian network to sabotage the armies of Orlais. A new movement erupts in the Dales, and elves across Thedas look at this so-called "Herald of Andraste" and see Mythal's vallaslin. Fiona breaks the chains of mages across Thedas, and Fenris starts whispers of a new age in Tevinter--one where the slaves throw down their masters. A new age is coming, and all of Thedas look to Lavellan to usher it in. My baby, my never-ending story, my current work-in-progress.

My Harry Potter Stories

Harry Potter Daydreams Archiving my old Harry Potter headcanons from Tumblr onto AO3. These are not necessarily nice to the characters from canon, and focus what I find interesting--their flaws, and how that could create conflict in their lives.

General Snape Headcanons Archiving my old Harry Potter headcanons from Tumblr onto AO3.

Augury Gang Eileen's mother curses her, and she dies not too long after giving birth to Severus. Tobias, a millworker and a proud union man, does his best.

Snape in the City Instead of dying, Snape moves to New York. A Severus Snape/Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape/Regulus Black story.

An Incident at the Mill the millrat AU A series of vignettes on what could’ve happened if Tobias Snape had been badly injured in an accident at the mill, forcing Severus to drop out of Hogwarts before the Prank. Predominantly Lilycentric. Snily shippers, rejoice: most of the vignettes are from Lily’s point of view, featuring her as flawed, passionate, bullheaded, comfortable in her sexuality, quick to curse and quicker to laugh at herself–and with a complicated relationship to alcohol and the Wizarding World. A big thank you to eleniaz and deathdaydungeon for sparking the initial headcanons that became this series.

Saplings 1980 Albus asks Minerva to tend to the "tender new sapling" of a Potions Master. Minerva looks at the manic-triggered recovered Death Eater and thinks they're doomed for failure. Snape thinks she's right. A couple of friendship & mentorship & not-quite hurt/comfort ficlets, where Severus oozes despair and McGonagall fails, completely, utterly, to be of service. There are two pieces of fanart floating around Snapedom, one of Snape oozing, the other a comic eleniaz did years ago. Unfortunately I've lost the links.

Harry Potter and the Summer of the Stepfather In an alternate world where Neville Longbottom is the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter's parents divorce relatively amicably. Eventually, Lily starts dating again, and Harry finds himself actually enjoying the summer Snape stays over.

Last Round at the Hog's Head Thirty-one ficlets written for the 2020 Snapetober challenge.

Your Body's a Revolution Eight stories written for the 2020 Trans Snape Week challenge.

July 1977 Snape stews in teenage melodrama, eating lunch at a cheap fish-and-chips shop in Upper Cokeworth, beset by memories of a wasted ex-girlfriend, who couldn't be Lily Evans--what Bertha Jorkins saw behind the greenhouses, and what came after. Revised from an earlier account, cross-posted from fanfiction.net.

Maleficari's Mutinous Munitions Sprout grew the wrong kind of mandrakes--mandragora, rather than English mandrakes, and no one knew that there actually was an infinitesimal difference--so Severus needs to save the day before Lockhart can. A little of Slytherin cunning, a willingness to embezzle, and a sense of spite wins the day. Prompted by masaotheheckindog.

Honeydukes Horror Remus Lupin genially humiliates Severus Snape as he attempts to order chocolates. Some schoolboy grudges never get better, and nothing Severus can say will let him seem the better man. Prompted by snapescapades.

Weavers Bored before the start of sixth year, Harry goes through Petunia's old family photo albums. He demands some answers, and Dumbledore sends Snape. "He finds a photo of her laughing with a boy who is not his father, who’s got his long black hair and a hand thrown up, too, covering his face. She’s about his age in this photo, or a bit older. Carefully he slides it out of the plastic. There’s writing on the back: 'Weavers, Sev & Lily, 1976. to Baba O’Riley and the rest of our lives!!' The writing is familiar, spidery, almost indecipherable, and he squints because it reminds him of someone, it’s strangely familiar, and then he drops the photo in shock. Because he knows: that’s Severus Snape."

They Call This Closure? Severus comes to consciousness into a dream of Potter reenacting his worst memory-and then Lily Evans comes tearing in at age sixteen, rather than as the more mature adult his subconscious normally designs her. They call this closure? Officially dead, officially incomplete: and I call this closure?

Harry Potter and the Cursed Mark Triple-cross! Mitarashi Anko of the Village Hidden in the Leaves joins Severus Snape as one of Dumbledore's agents, seeking to train the Boy-Who-Lived to understand his mental connection to Lord Voldemort. Snape thinks that they really didn't need to hire a goddamn technicolor ninja to fill the DADA position, but at least it's not one of Fudge's underlings taking charge--wait, he has to put up with her anyway? More seriously, Anko and Severus discover a connection between their cursed marks and the Potter boy's scar, Dumbledore expedites the plot, and Voldemort weaves an insidious plot, inspired by Lord Orochimaru, to take over the Resistance--from the inside. Incomplete and officially dead.

My Star Trek Stories

Raktajino Kira Nerys stews over the history of Terok Nor and the Occupation over a cup of raktajino, soon after she meets Marritza, and Garak just does not know when to leave a bleeding wound alone. Written as a gift for batsy22-me.

Open Mic at Quark's Thirty-one stories written for Trektober 2020, ranging from TOS, the movies, to Lower Decks and Discovery. Includes Keiko joining the Maquis, Spock introducing Amanda to Saavik, Mariner and crew getting lost on a road trip, and more!

Splash Quark takes a dip in a hot spring. Odo follows. It is not, Odo insists, sexy. Regardless, Quark is going to enjoy tormenting him with mutual nudity, since he was the one who interrupted his bath, after all. Prompted by saathiray.

Lore and the Prophets Lore thinks he can sneak off Deep Space Nine and get through the wormhole without anyone noticing. The Prophets have other ideas. Written for the Star Trek 2020 Gift Exchange, for electricsunrise.

Jambalaya Before Worf's wedding plans take over the station, Benjamin Sisko tries to find out what happened during the Founders' occupation of Deep Space Nine, and why Odo won't look him in the eye. Of course he investigates in the guise of inviting everyone to dinner.

Tear of the Prophets Was prompted by saathiray to write about Kira Nerys repatriating an artifact sacred to Bajor from Cardassia, and this is what we got! The Shakaar cell leads a procession after Cardassia returns the Orb of Contemplation to Bajor, to collective joy. Kai Opaka says, "So I say to you my people, the survivors of atrocity and keepers of the wormhole—the Prophets cried for you millennia before you were made. They sent their Tears from their temple as a safeguard as to what was to come. And now that it is safe, now that we have won—their Tears are for all." Featuring Latha having an Orb experience, explaining why he became a vedek.

Jane Austen Book Club Dukat reads Pride and Prejudice to help him understand human relations (and fuck the Sisko). He thinks he’s being Darcy but really, he’s just Mr. Collins…and evil. Garak lends him a copy of Jane Austen and a horrific cravat, and really, it's all downhill from there.

Miscellaneous Stories

Fireworks, a feminist deconstruction of Naruto Sarada takes one look at the Uchiha legacy and decides she wants no part of it. Sakura, who has built herself a life independent of the husband who abandoned them, tries to reckon with how her daughter cannot actually decide the path her life takes. And Hanabi is happy to offer advice and consolation, as Sakura tries to talk her best friends into letting Sarada be a civilian. A feminist deconstruction of Naruto, where everyone is taken seriously and treated with the same love Sakura offers to all her friends. No character-bashing, just contemplating what could have happened if, when Sasuke left Sakura and their baby the second time, Sakura decided to file for divorce rather than wait for him to come back. Of course they still love each other. Of course it's not simple.

Same Time Next Week?, a Babylon 5 fanfic Vir and Lennier meet for their usual drink. A pre-relationship, lightest of touches, beginning of it all story.

Sunrise, Parabellum, a Disco Elysium fanfic Early Wednesday morning, before Harry's woken up and before they've closed the water lock and headed to the fishing village, Kim Kitsuragi gets up and wants a cigarette. He has a cup of coffee instead and contemplates his partner's newfound sobriety. Sunrise, parabellum: he gets up and prepares for war.

Dragon Eyes, an Avatar: the Last Airbender fanfic On a diplomatic mission to the Fire Nation, Katara leaves the children with Aang to have tea with Zuko and Mai. But the two of them have something they want to talk about. They've lived enough of fathers neglecting one child for the other, and they have seen enough. Katara wishes they had propositioned her, rather than bring this up.

Cages, an Avatar: the Last Airbender fanfic Mai visits Azula. It is not easy.

[felassan]

Hi, thank you for your wonderful metas and explanations. Not sure if I'm getting this right though: if we get two last Archdemons as Dirthamen and Falon'Din and if they get killed.. wouldn't that make all Evanuris but Solas and Mythal, dead? What happens when the Archdemon dies? And if all the Archdemons are dead, will this end the Age of Dragon? Will there never be any more blights?

Hi Nonnie! Thank you :) Answer under cut due to length.

The first part of the line of speculation here depends on several things like: whether there really is a link between the Evanuris and the Old Gods (and if so, what is it? several different kinds of connection are theorized, including a number which don’t hold that it’s a case of direct one-to-one equivalence), whether Mythal is already truly dead or not (some think yes, some think no), whether it’s those two Evanuris specifically (a number of other candidates for the identities of the figures are speculated and entirely possible) and whether Solas will survive the events of the next game.

That stuff aside, the bulk latter part of your question is an Unknown that’s been set up as Ominous since Inquisition. Here’s Solas in dialogue with Blackwall:

[discussing the Grey Wardens]

Solas: The Wardens see themselves as the world's defense against the Blight do they not? Blackwall: Yes... Why do you sound so skeptical? Doesn't everyone know this? Solas: When an Archdemon rises, they slay it. What will they do when all the Archdemons are slain? Blackwall: Retire? Solas: Without Archdemons, there can be no Blights. Is that the reasoning? Blackwall: Right. Where are you going with this? Solas: Nowhere. I hope they are correct.

and Blackwall and Varric:

Solas: The Grey Wardens allow elves and dwarves into their ranks? Varric: Qunari too I imagine. They don't care about titles or blood, just stopping the Blight. Solas: A pity they do it so badly then. Blackwall: Would you care to repeat that? Solas: Argue if you like, your fight against the darkspawn is noble, but what progress have you made? Varric: Give them some credit, it's not like you can study the Blight safely. I may not like everything they've done, but without the wardens, we'd all be Blighted by now. Solas: They've bought us some time, I will grant them that.

and Cassandra:

[post-Adamant]

Cassandra: You don't think much of the Grey Wardens, Solas. Solas: They are fools, a fact only amplified by Corypheus' meddling. Cassandra: A harsh assessment. But after Adamant, perhaps not undeserved.

and Vivienne:

[post-Adamant]

Vivienne: You disapprove of Corypheus using the magic of the Blight, Solas? Solas: Every intelligent creature should. Vivienne: Yet you raise no objection to the Grey Wardens using blood magic? Solas: Blood magic is no worse than any other, properly used. But the Blight... Solas: The Blight corrupts everything it touches. Those who believe themselves capable of using it safely are mad. Vivienne: I understand that Grey Wardens are connected in some way to the Blight. Solas: Then that explains why we saw no old men at Adamant.

And here’s some of his dialogue during and after Here Lies The Abyss:

Erimond: A Blight happens when darkspawn find an Old God and corrupt it into an Archdemon. If someone fought through the Deep Roads and killed the Old Gods before they could be corrupted... no more Blights, ever. The Wardens sacrifice their lives and save the world.  Solas: [hella angry] That’s madness! For all we know killing the Old Gods could make things even worse!

---

Solas: [super agitated] We must stop the Wardens from carrying out this insane plan Inquisitor! To seek out these Old Gods deliberately... in some bizarre attempt to prevent the Blight... [...] Those fools and duty... responsibility is not expertise. Action is not inherently superior to inaction. Forgive me, the entire idea is - unnerving. Inquisitor: I wouldn’t mind never having another Blight. Corypheus interfering is the real problem. Solas: [pretty irritated] The Blight is the real problem!   Inquisitor: And the Wardens are trying to end the Blight forever.  Solas: Yes! Would it have worked? Do you know? Did they? The fools who first unleashed the Blight upon this world thought they were unlocking ultimate power! 

---

Solas: If you don’t stop them, we’ll all fall.

---

Solas: Even if they could succeed, the entire idea is wrong. The Blight is not something one smugly outsmarts.

It’s clear he dislikes or disagrees with aspects of the Wardens in a general sense, even if they’d never gotten up to what they tried to do in Inquisition (that’s another topic). But he also either seems to know Something that he’s withholding, or else he fears possible consequences/potential unknown consequences of them (or anyone) succeeding in killing the remaining Old Gods. He’s incensed thinking about it. The idea deeply unsettles him, and he fears the Blight and what it can do. And I wonder if the ‘Something’ will be to do with the true nature of and the origin of the Blight. It also may intersect with things like the Fade and the Black City. 

So the question of what will happen with regards to the Blight when all of the Old Gods are gone feels like one we’re meant to be asking and speculating on at the moment, one we’re still meant to be in the dark about til some reveal. It’s often theorized that the Old Gods are ‘keys’ (or rather, more like locked padlocks) to the prison (or ‘prison’) where the Evanuris are caged, or that they’re vessels for pieces of their souls, or that they’re [functionally] like seals or gateways keeping something at bay from the world of Thedas, like, say, in the Black City - “And I looked up and saw // The seven gates of the Black City shatter // And darkness cloaked both realms.” - which as we know is Tainted and also apparently, according to the latest mural, infested by red lyrium too.. These sorts of ideas often make reference to the Dread Wolf Rises teaser mural, where there are 7 hemispheres arranged on the outside of the repeating concentric circles pattern which usually represents the Veil. Only 2 of the hemispheres are still lit, the rest are dark. They’re often thought to represent the 5 dead Old Gods and the 2 who remain alive, sleeping. These sorts of ideas cast the Old Gods’ current situation as a temporary solution, staving off a massive looming problem for a while, essentially. Sometimes the ‘something’ is linked to the Void/the Abyss. (It’s tough to call though as the pattern inside the hemispheres is the same as what’s found on elven foci/power orbs in other murals, which are almost certainly Titan hearts.)

Something to bear in mind also is that no more Blights (as in the plagues of darkspawn attacking the surface world directed by an Archdemon) doesn’t mean no more Taint/Blight or no more darkspawn. Blights are events, not the origin or the cause, and darkspawn have their own means of.. creating more darkspawn.. and darkspawn don’t disappear or combust when an Archdemon is killed, they go back underground to look for a new Old God. What if that compulsion was no more? Consider the Mother, who after being freed from the song/call of the Old Gods went mad. She birthed a new variety of darkspawn and there was a darkspawn civil war. Think of the Architect, who once wanted to spread the Taint to every non-darkspawn person in Thedas, and then accidentally caused the Fifth Blight. The Disciples, along with free will, gained higher intelligence, the ability to strategize and emotional behavior patterns (not just mindless plague-locust or worker-bees-to-a-queen-bee behavior anymore). The Messenger was fairly benevolent and if let go wanders around as a helpful traveler, but he still inadvertently spreads the Taint wherever he goes in that outcome, which cannot be permitted due to the impact on peoples’ health and on ecosystem health. Would darkspawn who are no longer urged by the Call to dig for an Old God stay on the surface wreaking havoc, in a perma-[quasi]Blight with no clear-cut way to end it as there’s no Archdemon to slay? Would we see something like the events of Awakening, only Thedas-wide? If they’d now have awakened intelligence, would they attack with advanced tactics? Or with some of them maddened and without an Archdemon to direct them, would it just be general chaos? I’d worry about Orzammar too; part of the reason why Orzammar has managed to persist thus far is that most of the darkspawn are usually burrowing away looking for the Old Gods, and only randoms and straggling groups end up attacking Orzammar (relatively speaking, at least). Without the Call, it could be overrun. 

Dragons are quite resistant to the Blight, compared to other creatures, able to section off parts of their own flesh to stem the spreading extent of its corruption - to a point. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere that links back to the notion that the setup of the 7 Old Gods, as they were anyway, slumbering, isn’t a solution that can keep Whatever It Is at bay indefinitely.

What’s Solas thinking of when he says “I hope you are correct”? What catastrophic thing happening have the Wardens bought us some time before it occurs? In what ways could things get worse? Why is Solas convinced in TN that he has no choice and that what he’s doing will save this world? Messing with the Blight never ends well, time’s running out, there’s something going on with the Old Gods, and the possibilities for what could happen if all the darkspawn were suddenly freed from their singular purpose of following the song are alarming.  Whatever will happen when the last Old God or Archdemon is killed, it doesn’t sound good though does it?

[yetanotherlesbianonthiswebsite]

Var Revas

Hey everyone, I am currently doing several research projects for arc 2 of The Ridge of Thedas and while I was flipping through TME and rereading the Crossroad scenes, a small spark for a setup of a scene in a more BioWare-friendly canon (as much as it pains me to leave my AU) entered my head and I just wanted to write a small sketch of it.

16th of Wintermarch, 9:43 Dragon

“Your Holiness, do you want to take a break? We are moving much faster than I anticipated, and now we would be two hours too early anyway.” Briala put her pocket watch back into the pocket of her dress.

“Very well. I guess there is no sense in extra haste.” Leliana sat down on a rock close by, and, with a sigh, took off the wide headdress of the Divine. “You know, Marquise, I appreciate the theatricality of me appearing out of nowhere to settle the dispute, but the robes of the Divine were not made for hiking.” They had been walking through the crossroads for four hours now. The eluvian that marked their designated exit was only half an hour away now.

“Do you have second thoughts about my plan?” Briala asked bluntly. She owed a bit of directness to the Divine, anyhow. Any other Divine would not even have let Briala finish explaining her proposal, let alone agree to it. To have a Divine intervene in the heated debate between a Dalish clan and an Orlesian noble was new. To have the Divine rule in favor of the clan would be revolutionary.

“Even disregarding that the Duke is clearly transgressing his authority here and that your people make demands more than just, I owe you for Cumberland. Or do you attach any credence to the rumor that I don’t pay my debts? You are a far better player than that, Briala.”

Briala chuckled. “I gave two of my agents orders to steal documents from the Grand Cleric. You could have asked the Inquisition to relay that request to me and I wouldn’t have blinked.”

“Given how precarious the matter was, I wanted to cut out the middlemen.” So it had been a private matter.

“Would you fault me for wondering what it was that made you so desperate to blackmail the Grand Cleric?”

Leliana sighed. “Well, you deserve to know at this point, don’t you?” She shrugged. “The Grand Cleric had assembled a small number of clerks and bureaucrats that she threatened to use to call for an Exalted Conclave if I didn’t annul my wedding to the Hero of Ferelden. So I decided to return the gesture and end her participation in the Game for years to come.”

Briala tilted her head. “You risked a schism for what? A gesture of affection to one elven mage?”

“You were at the ceremony, Briala. This was far more than a private gesture of affection. But yes, I will not give up my marriage simply to silence one critic’s voice. Is it so hard to imagine that I love her?”

“It is difficult to imagine a human of your station to risk her throne for love.”

Leliana smiled. “It mustn’t have missed your attention that my presence on the Sunburst Throne is considered highly unusual.” She looked upwards. “What was it that one historian wrote in his essay last month? ‘The Most Holy has effectively ended the Dragon Age six decades to early. The Chantry will never return to the status it once had.’” Leliana snickered. “It is my hope that the Chantry will never return to what it once was. If it does, it means I failed.” Her eyes fixed on Briala. “If we are already exchanging dangerous amounts of truths, I too have a question burning on my mind for you.”

“Well, I will answer it in as much truthfulness as I can. I owe you that courtesy now, don’t I?”

“My spies have stumbled upon several unusually placed caches of weapons in several cities and settlements in the Dales for a few months. You wouldn’t know the reason why they are there?”

Briala frowned. “So you have noticed. And I would have hoped the Nightingale would not sing to the Inquisitor about the cracks in his truce between Gaspard and me, at least not yet.”

“I must admit I am a bit disappointed. Why didn’t you ask me for support before taking such measures?”

Briala blinked several times. “Your Holiness, do you understand what you are implying?”

“First of all, call me Leliana. The Chancellor calls me ‘your holiness’ way too often in his critical tone for me to have positive associations with the title. And secondly, I have canonized the Canticles of Shartan and I have opened priesthood to all the races of Thedas. What could I have done to make it more obvious that I support the cause of your people? Shoot an arrow through Gaspard’s neck?”

Briala had encountered all sorts of lies in her life. She had learned to break through any façade, no matter how strong. With all that knowledge, she could not find any indication of a lie within the Divine’s words. Would she be an ally, just as she had been before at that night in the Winter Palace that had changed everything? “The freedom of the Dales must be won by force because it hasn’t been given to us after centuries of pleading.” She shook her head. “Your Holi… Leliana, you are aware that the Chantry will tear apart if you support the freedom of the Dales?”

“I have become Divine to repair the Chantry and have the Chantry remedy a bit of the pain it has caused over the centuries. If I have to tear it apart in a quest to hold it accountable for the crimes of its past, then so be it.” Leliana plucked a rose from a bush close to her. “The love of my life helped me understand the unspeakable violence the Chantry has committed against your people, when she and I started to talk to each other all those years ago during the Blight. Both a sense of justice and my heart compel me to support your ambitions with all my power.”

“Did you… just pluck that rose?”

“Evidently. Is there a problem with that? I thought these roads were secure.”

“No, but… what color do you see when you look at the rose?”

“Red…? What, is that wrong?”

“Do you hear any uncomfortable noises? Do you see color around us?”

“Briala, we are in a very picturesque and inviting landscape full of vibrant blooming flowers and trees in full green, and the only noise I can hear is the wind. In all honesty, I am currently not able to follow your thoughts.”

Briala breathed in, trying to make sense of it. Trying to find any explanation why the only possibility that could apply couldn’t be true. “Leliana,” she began, “do you know who your parents were?”

[malachitebeck]

Just a Little Thing While We Wait for Kenobi

So the other day I saw a post by Intermundia (I’m not going to tag them I’d explode from my own embarrassment) that really stuck with me? They were talking about how being a perfectionist when it comes to your writing is something you kind of actively have to overcome, and as someone who has left more WIPs on the cutting room floor than I can name out of pure frustration I really can feel where they’re coming from. And that made me write this. It’s not much- just a collection of scenes and ideas for a Kenobi trailer that have been running through my head every day for the past month- but I don’t know if I have the emotional stamina to write the multi chaptered fic this idea deserves (nor do I have the wherewithal to survive the inevitable heartbreak when none of this happens in the actual show) so this will have to do for now.

It’s a step! I’m taking a step and I’m learning. This is for me, but I hope you all get some enjoyment out of it too. 

The trailer begins with a shot of heavy clouds in a yellow tinted sky. A troop carrier belonging to the GAR sinks into frame, its engine whirring. The only sound we can hear now is diegetic- the roar of the engine and the chatter of voices as the camera moves up to the right hand side. Hanging on at the edge of the carrier is OBI-WAN KENOBI, flanked on either side by AHSOKA TANO and ANAKIN SKYWALKER. KENOBI, as per usual, has concern and careful consideration written all over his face. TANO, meanwhile, is bouncing on her heels. All at once we see her leap from the carrier at the behest of her masters, landing on a metal platform that is jutting out from what appears to be a Seperatist landing bay.

TANO moves at a rapid speed, followed closely behind by Troopers as well as ANAKIN and KENOBI. The camera tracks her almost like a side scrolling video game- slowing down for a moment as her lightsaber extends to cut down a droid and we see that it is still a singular green blade. We are a ways away from the Twilight of the Republic.

Eventually, the camera pulls to a stop as if it has reached the end of a track. ANAKIN and KENOBI have caught up with TANO at this point, and the droids on this landing bay are handled. The trio move at a slower pace, with ANAKIN and TANO talking rapid fire with one another. We can’t hear them, though. The sound has faded out. KENOBI is looking at them fondly now. Much more fondly than he would if the situation was really happening. But it isn’t happening, is it?

The trio cross through the sliding doors, the camera pulling once again until we are looking at solid stone. That stone fades to blackness, and within that blackness is a hidden cut. We don’t see light again until a new set of doors slides open. The room inside is dark, and the light from outside highlights sand and dust that hover in the air. KENOBI is standing alone now. His face is weary and his shoulders sag from an invisible weight. OBI-WAN KENOBI has gone from his home to a place that is merely acting as his house. He lets out a sigh, and the camera cuts to black again.

We hear the familiar opening notes of Binary Sunsets played out on a piano. In the darkness, the Lucasfilm logo enters and then fades.

When the camera rises again, we see a straight shot of KENOBI from behind- hidden in his robe and walking with a bundle pressed against his left shoulder through the streets of Mos Eisley. The camera cuts in closer, and we see that bundle more closely now. It’s a baby LUKE SKYWALKER, sleeping soundly despite the hell that preceded his birth.

KENOBI: “I hope you understand, the circumstances were not ideal. I did the best I could, but I thought you were gone….”

While this narration is going, we cut to a shot we’ve seen before. KENOBI giving baby LUKE to his aunt and uncle. However, unlike the last time we saw this moment, the camera follows KENOBI for a little while longer. We see, as the twin suns set behind him, KENOBI falls to his knees in the sand and breaks into a sob. This is the first time he has let himself cry- the first time the walls have come down since the tumultuous end of the Republic began.

KENOBI (cont.): “... I thought everyone was gone.”

The scene shifts as we start to see how the years have worn KENOBI down. Moments pass by almost like a slideshow- we see him cleaning out the old farm house that he took over to call his own, see him setting up a vaparator to survive on Tatooine- all the while he is growing older. This general of the Republic is finally coming to rest, and it is aging him.

KENOBI (cont.): “And while you were off, Force knows where…”

There is a rather drastic cut. We now see AHSOKA TANO, now a young woman. She is turned to face the camera, having been struck by the figure standing behind her. It is the SIXTH BROTHER. We are watching her fight on Raada unfold. All at once, with an expression that rival’s her former master’s, TANO turns on the BROTHER- igniting her white sabers and striking him overhead. The swift movement of the sabers acts as a transition.

KENOBI (cont.): “I’ve been here. I stayed here. I’m sure you can understand why.”

The transition carried us back to the sandy expanse of Tatooine. TANO’S twin blades settled as the twin suns, which look down on a young boy running and playing with some bemused droids. The sunset hue of the sky is reminiscent of the first time we ever saw this boy- a young LUKE SKYWALKER, around age 6.

The camera turns around to slowly focus on two figures- both wearing cloaks and standing far enough away that they blend in with the darkening surroundings. As we get closer, though- it is clear to see that the one on the left is KENOBI and the one on the right is TANO. There is a distance between them, one put there by years of lies and of their opposing views on the growing Rebellion. KENOBI’S narration has proven to be an explanation to a very wounded TANO. She mourned him. 

TANO, plainly yet carrying immeasurable weight: “I do.”

There is a pause. The wind kicks up for a moment, moving both of their cloaks as the silence hangs heavy.

TANO: “You should have reached out. You can’t defend him on your own.”

KENOBI: “I know about the Empire. They rarely travel this far, and even if they did-”

TANO: “I’m not talking about the Empire. At least… not what you’re used to.”

The camera cuts for the briefest of moments, as if we are following TANO on a flashback. We see a jungle planet being ravaged by INQUISITORS- but TANO’S focus is on one among them. He looks as though he wants nothing more than to run- and the camera cuts to focus on him as he falls onto the jungle floor. This INQUISITOR… or perhaps not quite an INQUISITOR… is CAL KESTIS. And much has changed for him in the spanse of two years.

The camera cuts back quickly, TANO shaking her head as the focus is now more squarely on her. The camera pulls back to bring KENOBI back into frame.

KENOBI: “Are you offering to help me, then?”

TANO, scorned but still sure: “Yes.” beat. “But I’m not doing this for you. He’s…. He’s the last Skywalker.”

The scene cuts again, this time to a moment with much more weight. The twin suns of Tatooine have completely set, and the sand is whipping up more aggressively than before. We see LUKE SKYWALKER, young and bleary eyed from sleep, standing in the desert. All at once he is grabbed by TANO, and pulled in close to her chest. She is on her knees, clinging to him with one hand while her white lightsaber ignites in the other- parallel to the ground but shaking slightly from her determination.

We then see the object of her ire. An INQUISITOR- standing proud as their black cape snaps in the harsh winds. They grab their own saber off their belt, igniting it. The bright crimson cuts through the bluish black night. We can feel the electricity of a fight, but before it can happen….

Fade to black.

TANO (narration): “I would die before I let something happen to him.”

KENOBI: “So we’re in agreement.”

TITLE CARD. KENOBI: A STAR WARS STORY.

[takaraphoenix]

How does the Shadowhunter society work? Like, actually work?

I don’t even mean the clusterfuck that’s their leadership - where the Lightwoods are “dethroned” to be replaced by Lydia, who then inexplicably and without real explanation is replaced by Aldertree, who then is replaced by the Inquisitor herself, who just appoints her own grandson literally just based on him being her grandson, who then nominates his parabatai really only based on that even though the whole gods damn point of this game of musical chairs was to remove the Lightwoods from power. Okay, no, I actually also mean that because that was just a mess through and through.

You don’t... apply for jobs I guess? You just get chosen? Like how Isabelle suddenly became Weapon’s Master - whatever the fuck that even means.

Also, is there like... a job limit? I mean, Isabelle is the Weapon’s Master. She is however also apparently their head forensic scientist. And does autopsies. And she also takes over in the medical wing if need be, because we have literally never seen an actual doctor in the Institute, it’s mostly whoever has time. And she is an active-duty Shadowhunter going out on missions.

They... They don’t... have like... different departments, huh? You can just... dabble in all the jobs!

I mean, at one point it was implied that Jace is “head of security”, but once again, what does that even mean because he’s just constantly out on missions too. Shouldn’t the head of a department be... I don’t know... available to oversee stuff?

And what even is the Inquisitor? She’s first introduced as judge and jury for Isabelle’s trial. Making it look like she... personally... comes every time a Shadowhunter is on trial? Is she a judge? Is she the only judge?

And are there even trials? Like, for Downworlders? Because they skipped right to the execution with Clary - and all the Downworlders and supposed traitors from Valentine’s side. There was no trial there.

But over the course of the toher seasons, it looked more like the Inquisitor is the equivalent to the president. The absolute head. In charge of everyone.

Which brings me to their legal system. The president is your judge and jury. That seems kind of shady. But then again! They also threw Jace into the dungeon for getting abducted and tortured! And then they tortured him a bit themselves! So there’s that.

There’s also the shady way with which they handle their terrorists. You know, the two who got to lead the New York Institute with a bit house-arrest only. Even though head of an Institute is implied to be an important position. And Hodge too, just a bit of house-arrest and the whole “don’t talk about it” rune. I know this one is intentional to show just how shady and actually down for Valentine’s core ideals the Clave really is, but... it still stands as something questionable.

Because... throughout the show they all do seem very serious about putting Valentine behind bars and treating him as inherently wrong (also implied by the whole immediate execution thing mentioned above). So, what brought that change of heart on?

But I’m getting off-track. The main point I wanted to get to was: How do they pay for stuff? How are they paid? Are they even paid? Does money exist?

I mean, seriously. They’re squatting in an “old abandoned church”. So they don’t pay legal property taxes. They’re not like... pretending to be some kind of firm that works in that building, glamouring it as, I don’t know, a lawyers’ building or whatever, and having a kinda legal business front.

They keep themselves glamoured from mundies.

So, were do they get their stuff? Clothes, food, technology, heck, furniture and the ten thousand candles Jace keeps in his bedroom?

They have this hyper advanced technology that is never explained. Because that is not magic, it’s technology. The whole holographics, the computer-system that seems more advanced than ours. So you’re telling me they have absolute genuius inventors there, but don’t make money off of it?

If they did, if you’d tell me that they like make brilliant stuff and sell versions it to the mundie world - with like a flippant note about how they invented smartphones or something - and that’s how they finance stuff, I’d buy that.

Or heck, the thing I had kind of automatically assumed in early season 1 - that members of the Shadow World infiltrate the mundane world. Like Luke and Alaric. That the two werewolf-partners were intentional and not coincidental. Downworlders, working in law-enforcement, in hospitals, in the fire-department, just generally everywhere important to have a literal Shadow World to our mundane world; including Shadowhunters. Them, working as actual law-enforcement and specifically taking the non-mundane cases.

Y’all know Grimm? Love that show. Super stupid, hella lazy world-building on the bestiary side, but the whole concept of the supernatural hunter working as a cop, with his captain also being part of the supernatural world and thus helping by pulling some strings? That.

I kind of assumed that to be implied when the captain was also a Downworlder, but then the captain got killed and Alaric got killed and Luke got that useless mundie partner. Just, imagine for a moment, if the Shadowhunters did live integrated into the mundane world, but in the shadows of it. Isabelle as the forensic scientist or head medical examiner of New York even, the “head of the Institute” as the captain of the department, of both the Shadow World side and the mundane side, Jace and Alec as detectives working together. Cases are being shuffled around by the Shadowhunter in charge of the precinct so the mundies get the mundie cases and the Shadowhunters get the actual Downworlder stuff.

But they live cut off from humans and they are “lucky” that Luke is a cop and they can get inside case information from him, which makes Luke look shady and also kind of insane because he’s talking to thin air since Jace and the others only show up to a crime-scene glamoured.

They don’t have jobs in the mundane world though. They don’t interact with the mundane world.

So, where do their clothes and food come from? Do they have some oblivious mundie delivery guys bringing food to the church...? Do they... grow everything themselves? Do they make clothes themselves?

Are there Shadowhunter seamstresses and bakers? Is there a shopping mile in Idris?

Because the way they make it look, with the dwindling number of Shadowhunters - based on them dying young during missions and not producing enough heirs to compensate for that and not having the cup to make more Shadowhunters - I sort of got the impression that every Shadowhunter has to take a soldier career. Either you go into active duty, or you become an Iron Sister/Silent Brother, or a politician.

But they have a cafeteria. It’s not like that’s enchanted like the dining hall in Harry Potter, right? So, do they have Shadowhunters on staff who are cooks? Janitors? Since the whole weapons-cleaning thing was being used as a “punishment” for Jace, do they just... take turns? Have a chores-schedule and everybody gets to clean up and cook like once a month...? Do they have Downworlders in the positions they themselves see as below them, like the janitorial staff?

Does... does money even exist in their society? I’m really curious about that, because it would imply that they have an economic system. And I really did get the impression that they were a pure race of soldiers, battling demons with no sense of procedures on how to qualify and apply for a job - I mean, Clary just flat-out moves into the Institute and starts going on missions without any training at all, without a screening, without... without, yeah as dumb as it sounds, a job application.

Are there pay-checks? Are those actual jobs? Is there money? How does it work?

The point of this post really is that I’m an absolute sucker for world-building and this world-building absolutely sucked.

Seriously, I do love the conceptual idea of the Shadow World, but at no point was it actually established how it fits into our world. It was just vagued at that it stays hidden and glamoured, but how? How does it co-exist? How does it, as an independent society work?

Heck, that goes even deeper than jobs and politics. Why do they all speak English? Why don’t the Nephilim have their own native tongue, considering they use “runes” for their magic, which was in fact the writing of early day Germany (albeit different runes, of course)? Or, at the very least, why don’t they speak pre-dominantly German and&or French, considering Idris is physically located between France, Germany and Switzerland.

Why do all Shadowhunters automatically speak English like that is the dominant language of their society? Be that new arrivals like Aline, Helen, Aldertree, Lydia, Sebastian. You can pull that stunt if you put your fairy tale country into the USA, like so many do. But if you put it into Europe and give a very specific location, you should let that influence things. I mean, what’s practical about them speaking English? The ones outside the US, that is - it does make sense that the Lightwoods and the staff in the New York Institute speak English. The Inquisitor, the reinforcement we’re getting, the Silent Brothers in the City of Bones, heck the scene where Clary is sentenced to death? Why would they speak English?

And don’t come at me “It’s the dominant language!”, because... why would that matter to Shadowhunters? They’ve shown they’re an old-fashioned society, very stuck in their old-fashioned ways. They would 100% not go trendy with “uh all the mundies learn English as their second language nowadays maybe we should raise all our kids English-speaking??”. They’d continue speaking their own native tongue throughout, they’d among themselves talk in their native tongue and certainly not in whatever language the mundies of that region are speaking considering that they don’t interact with mundies.

And that native tongue should be either an original Nephilim-language, German, French, or even an original conceptual mix of German and French that came together over the centuries, because the fact that Idris lays where it does implies that the first Nephilim created were, in fact, German, French and Swiss, probably also some Italians and Austrians.

There’s no way that centuries ago, the Angel grabbed a bunch of Brits, made them Shadowhunters and then dumped them in newly-created Shadowhunters Country to form a settlement there and speak pre-dominantly English. That’s... incredibly ridiculous.

And I know “the first Shadowhunter” is named John Shadowhunter, but that in itself is a fact I want to forget because it might just be the singularly dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in the realm of world-building and I’ve encountered sparkling vampires. Seriously, I had assumed the job-title “Shadowhunter” came from them, quite literally, hunting shadows. No. It had to be a super fancy perfectly coincidental name of the very first Shadowhunter? Yikes on that one.

And, again, that really very English name makes little sense considering where Idris lays. She did bother to give her villain the most on-the-nose German name, so why not Jonathan Schattenjäger, then? Or, you know, do the more sensible thing and not put your fantasy country slap-dash between Germany, France and Switzerland. It could as well be on a glamoured, hidden from mundie sight island off the shore of England. Make it a reasonably English-speaking country and also have it better hidden because... how exactly does that even work? Is it like Grimmauld Place that just folds in on itself or whatever? Time Lord technology? Because a country, even a small one, just... there, in the middle of Europe? But no one can see it? How is that explained for the mundies?

See, I’m not even saying that they all need to speak German/French, or that CC had to invent a whole new language. I’m just saying that, with where she places Idris, those would have been reasonable things to happen and no one forced her to put Idris where she put it, there is no actual real reason why it needs to be specifically there and three things - name of the first Shadowhunter, how it’s hidden from mundies and the language are - would have very easily been explained by simply not putting the country where it was put. But if you make something take place in a specific place, you have to take that place’s specific culture and other parameters into consideration in how your world forms.

I just... these things are world-building 101 questions. How is the leadership structure in this society, what kind of money-system do they have, what language do they speak.

And sure, I have only read the first book and CC might still surprise me with some mindblowing world-building that explains it all - but to be quite honest, the fact that Hodge and three underaged teenagers were all the people manning the New York Institute, my questions about the economics of this still stand, maybe even more so than before because uh... child-soldiers are fine I guess?? No need for actual, non former terrorist adult staff!

This is just... something that frustrates me. Sure, your world doesn’t have to be 100% because it’s still fictional. But there are some corner stones about your fantasy world that should be solid, that should be set. In the books and in the show, that is.

And... not many things about how the actual world works were as much as even just mentioned. And that really frustrates me, because to me, the most important part are the characters, and the second most important part is the world. An inconsistent and badly explained world is really very frustrating for me.

[fanonorcanon]

Cullen & F!Trevelyan

“Maker's breath, can we talk about something else?” Cullen huffed.

“We could, yes. But it's so much fun to see you all flustered like that,” Astrid laughed. 

“Far be it from me to tell the Herald where to take her fun. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.” His brow was furrowed as he stomped away, a contrast to the handsome blush that colored his cheeks and ears.

...

Astrid toyed with the map markers at the war table. Josephine and Leliana had left to meet with a minor nobleman and insisted they'd return shortly. They'd been gone for over twenty minutes and the silence between her and Cullen was growing stifling.

“I'm sorry, Commander. I hadn't meant to offend,” she blurted out.

“What?” Cullen looked genuinely puzzled.

“What I said before, poking fun at what you said about a Templar’s vows. It was in poor taste and very inappropriate. I really am. Sorry, I mean,” she began to ramble on aimlessly.

“It's in the past,” he replied simply.

“I'd like to get to know you better. I'd like to get to know all of my advisors better. It seems remiss of me not to.”

“Indeed, that does seems wise.”

“What sorts of hobbies do you have? Maybe we could…” she trailed off in the face of Cullen's frosty expression. “Nevermind, I'm sorry to bother you.” She left the room without another word.

“Where is the Inquisitor?” Josephine asked.

“She left. Quite abruptly I might add,” Cullen grumbled.

“There must have been a reason. She's a very reasonable person. What did you say to her?” Josephine frowned then pinned Cullen with a sharp glare that she typically reserved for misbehaving nobles.

“I didn't say anything!” He was frustrated. How does one be purposefully distant without giving offense; he thought for not the first time that day. 

Leliana entered the room silently and joined the others at the table. “Perhaps it was less of what he said and more of what he didn't,” Leliana sighed.

“You still haven't told her?” Josephine asked with a scowl.

“And I don't plan to,” he said, his arms crossed tight against his chest. “Nothing good would come of it, I'm certain.”

“Is it too much to ask, Commander, if you could make an attempt at polite conversation?” Josephine asked with her hand on her hip.

“She's given much to the Inquisition. She has earned your respect, Commander, at the very least,” Leliana said coldly.

“I do respect her! You know I do. I just think she deserves-” he began.

“Not this again!” Josephine spat angrily.

“Enough,” Leliana said quietly. “Cullen, perhaps you would like to play chess with the Inquisitor tonight? I hear she wishes to get to know us all better, you in particular.”

The muscles in his jaw clenched as he nodded. “As you say, Sister Nightingale.” 

...

“I may not be very good at chess, Commander, but even I can tell when you're throwing the game,” Astrid sighed.

He averted his eyes but said nothing.

“If you don't want to be here, you may leave. I apologize that my presence is so intolerable.” Astrid walked away from the board and sat at her desk. He sat there, resolute. Moments became minutes and neither spoke a word. Astrid sifted through the paperwork that had accumulated. Once halfway through the pile, she sighed. “You're dismissed Commander, I thought that was obvious,” Astrid said wearily.

He still couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze.

“I don't dislike you,” Cullen said, his voice just above a whisper. 

“I wouldn't mind even if you did. I only hope that it doesn't put a strain on operations in the Inquisition.” Astrid smiled but it was forced.

“If I'm being honest, Inquisitor, I'm quite fond of you,” Cullen said. His fists were clenched tightly where they rested on his knees. 

“Enough, Commander,” Astrid spat. She stood from her desk and pushed him towards the door. “I didn't take you for a cruel man, but you certainly are full of surprises.”

“It's not a joke, Astrid, I assure you.”

“Just go,” Astrid said and slammed the door in his face.

“Please, listen to me.” His voice sounded raw to his own ears. He'd really fucked it up. “I hadn't meant to tell you this way.” The door rattled in the frame. Had she kicked it? 

“Of course, Commander. You'd rather have not told me at all!” Astrid said angrily.

“I didn't wish to become a liability, least of all to you,” he began.

The door swung open and he was confronted with an Inquisitor that was positively fuming. “A liability?! That's what you're worried about?”

“Yes, Inquisitor, a liability. Having a former lyrium addict as a-” he paused.

“A what?! Do try to finish that sentence, Commander,” Astrid said wryly.

“Must you make this so difficult?” His gaze was on the floor as he frowned, his fingers running through the hair grazing his nape. “I'm in love with you, Astrid.” His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

“I'm in no mood to discuss this now, I'd like to give you a proper answer. Perhaps when my temper has cooled,” she said not unkindly. 

“Another time then,” Cullen replied. He never meant to tell her. Now that he had he could only hope that she'd respond favorably. Whether that meant a gentle refusal or admission of mutual feelings he really couldn't tell which he'd prefer. 

...

Cullen watched Astrid from a distance. She was practicing her swings with a blunt axe on a training dummy. It wasn't her preferred war hammer but she was adept with either weapon. Her ebony skin was slick with sweat from a combination of exertion and the weather. Her breasts and stomach along with her ass jiggled with every movement. The extra weight suited her well, only adding to her natural beauty, Cullen thought. From her rounded face to her thick legs, he was entranced. It was more than a physical attraction for him and he hoped that he'd made that clear when he'd foolishly blurted out a confession several weeks ago.

“He's still staring,” Cassandra sighed after a devastating blow that left the training dummy in pieces.

“At what?” Astrid asked, unrelenting in her practice swings.

“Your ass or tits, most likely, boss,” Bull said. He leaned on Cassandra’s shoulder.

“What do you want, Iron Bull?” Cassandra grumbled.

“Training exercise,” he replied quietly.

Cassandra held out her hand for the stick he'd brought.

“Try not to give him a concussion, Cassandra,” Astrid chuckled.

“I make no promises,” Cassandra replied with a smirk. “You really should talk to him,” she murmured before walking off with Bull.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Inquisitor?” Josephine asked brightly.

“I need to speak to you. Alone if possible,” Astrid replied.

“It sounds serious, was there an accident during a sparring match?”

Astrid shook her head.

They sat on one of the balconies attached to the Inquisitor’s private quarters, drinking tea and eating decadent chocolate cakes.

“This is about Cullen, isn't it? Did he do something foolish? I've told him repeatedly to be more respectful of you and your station. It does not reflect well when the Commander of the Inquisition is at odds with the Inquisitor! What did he say?” Josephine frowned and gripped her tea cup so hard that Astrid was surprised it didn't crack under the pressure.

“He said he was in love with me, actually,” Astrid replied with all the calmness she could muster.

“He didn't!” Josephine bellowed.

“He shouldn't joke like that, it's very cruel of him.” Astrid frowned.

“I'm afraid he isn't joking, Inquisitor. He's been quite unreasonable about it all. Leliana of course had him figured out months ago, I realized shortly after… but I never thought he'd actually confess. We've been urging him to say something, anything to you about it. Maybe just treat you more gently, to show that he does indeed care for you very deeply.” Josephine reached across the table and held Astrid’s hand tightly. “He's a fool, Astrid. But he is a fool that is madly in love with you.” 

“Thank you, Josie. This has been very informative.” Astrid kept up a facade of aloofness until after Josephine had excused herself. Once she was well out of ear shot, Astrid groaned. She'd been certain that Cullen was lying to get out of an awkward situation. She knew that she had a certain amount of sex appeal to people with certain… proclivities. But Cullen had not once showed even a bit of interest in her.

Astrid quietly wandered out to the rotunda and onward to the Commander’s office. She knocked on the door and entered when she was bid. Cullen sat at his desk, not sparing a glance upwards. His brow was furrowed deeply and around his eyes she saw signs that he'd gotten very little sleep. “Report,” he grumbled.

“I'd like an explanation. A proper one.”

He jolted in his seat and sat up straight. “Inquisitor!” He yelped and stood at attention. “Apologies. I didn't know it was you.”

“An explanation,” Astrid repeated.

“Ah, yes.” Cullen hung his head. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Whenever it was that you decided it was better to be an asshole than tell me your feelings,” Astrid said cooly.

Cullen’s eyes went wide. “Apologies, my lady.”

“Go on.”

“I believe it was the first time we spoke in the training yard outside of Haven,” he said sheepishly.

“So, from the very beginning.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And why did think it was better to keep a distance?” Astrid crossed the room and sat on the edge of his desk.

“I didn't think I was worthy of you.”

Astrid arched a brow. “Do you still believe that?”

“A little less so, yes.”

“What changed your mind?” Astrid pushed Cullen’s shoulder until he sat down.

“You,” he began softly. “When you said that I was being cruel. I thought perhaps that meant you felt something for me as well. Whether you do or not, and I'd understand if you don't want-” he trailed off.

“If I don't want what?” 

“Me.” His voice was hoarse. 

“Since you feel that you know me so well, what do you think I want to do now?”

“Slap me, probably,” Cullen groaned, resting his elbows on the desk and covered his face.

“Is that what you want me to do?” 

“I don't know. I feel as if it's what I deserve for treating you so poorly.”

“I believe I should get to decide on what to do with you. Meet me in my quarters after dinner.”

“As my lady commands.” Cullen bowed his head, his face felt as if aflame.

...

Astrid reached the top of the stairs of her room and was captivated by the vision the Commander has made. He'd moved the chair from her desk to the middle of the room and had stripped off his armor. He was down to a threadbare linen shirt and loose leather trousers. But best of all was that he was wearing a blindfold. His lips were parted, his breaths heavy and that handsome blush was coloring his cheeks and ears.

“Well this is indeed a surprise,” Astrid smirks.

“It was a stupid idea, I've misunderstood, haven't I?” Cullen reaches his hands up to pull the knot loose.

“Stop. Keep your hands on your knees for now.”

Cullen shivered with the makings of anticipation. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Is this something you've done before, Commander?” She asks.

“No, my lady. I may have read several novels on the subject. This is the role that I found most comforting.”

“What do you wish to receive from this arrangement?”

“To obey you, to become yours beyond all reasonable doubt.”

“That seems easy enough to achieve. And what are your limits for the evening. How far are you willing to go?”

“Anything,” he whimpered.

“That's a dangerous claim, Commander,” Astrid said, smirking. Cullen shivered with delight. “Do you have a word in mind that you wish to be able to use if you want to stop?”

“I don't want to stop,” he countered politely.

“Be that as it may, it is good to have one.”

“Gallows,” Cullen whispered.

“Good boy.” Astrid smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. Cullen felt as she began to untie the laces of his trousers. “Help me gets these off then put your hands back where they were.” Her tone brooked no argument. Cullen nodded all the same and did as she asked.

[allisondraste]

How close did Niamh get to figuring out what was really going on with Solas during the main game events? Any scenes where he said just a little too much and had to backtrack and "I saw it in the Fade" didn't quite cut it for her?

Well, I started with an idea and the story kind of just… ran away with itself.  Thank you for this lovely prompt.  I have missed Solavellan a little too much.

The relationship was a selfish endeavor that he should not have encouraged or pursued.  At least, that was the comfort Solas offered himself in his decision to distance himself from the inquisitor.  He furiously scrawled lines across blank parchment, charcoal dust covering his hands as he worked.  Lines became shapes and shapes became a form, her form, with all its beautiful values and intricacies, the detail of the her freckles, the shimmer of light reflecting from her eyes.  As he brushed away the excess charcoal, he saw her as she had appeared when he told her she was important to him, eyes intently locked on his own.

He was not yet certain which was worse:  the lack of eye contact or the nauseating sensation he experienced when her eyes did happen upon his, still filled with the same anger and hurt they held that night in Crestwood.  Try as he may to distract himself, he could not keep his thoughts occupied enough so that they would not wander to her.  The image of her tear-stained face contorted by betrayal was emblazoned on his mind like Mythal’s marks that remained upon her forehead.  

“She feels her face, marked, marred without malice. She didn’t know. She thinks it’s why you walked away.”

Cole’s words that rang in his ears were like a knife twisting more deeply into his chest.  She had every right to be angry with him. She deserved a truth that he could not give her.  Perhaps if he had told her that he was Fen’Harel, she would have understood and even welcomed his decision.  An entanglement with the villain of tales told to strike fear into the hearts of her people, tales she knew by heart, was likely not what she had imagined when she first kissed him in the Fade.

Yet he could not bring himself to tell her, as part of him desperately did not want her to know. It was the part of him that wanted him to abandon his plan for restoration of his people.  It was the part of him that still trembled at the memory of her touch.  Telling her meant risking her rejection of him, a reality he was not yet prepared to face.  The high level of emotion and tension between them was better than nothing at all.

“Solas,” a familiar and commanding voice jolted him from his rumination. Her voice.

He shuffled his drawing under some other sketches that he would not be as embarrassed for her to see.  He stood to face her, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his jaw clenched in an attempt to appear aloof, a stance at which he had previously been very adept.  She would see through it.  She always did.

“Inquisitor.” he stated coldly, watching her frown from the formality.  The title was as bitter on his tongue as tea and he detested it equally as much.  It brought him no joy to deepen her wounds, but it was necessary.  Her name was an intimacy he could no longer allow himself.  His will was fragile and it would be so easy to falter.

“Don’t do that to me,” she pleaded, her voice cracking, “Don’t you even dare.  I came here to have an honest conversation with you, and I do not need this fucking facade, Solas.”

“How can I help,” he asked, his voice still  distant.  His heart plummeted into his stomach as she looked at him with utter disbelief.  

“Help,” she retorted with a bitter laugh, “You think I’m here for advice? Really?”

“If you do not wish for my assistance in preparing for your battle with Corypheus, then I am -”

“No need to finish that sentence,” she interrupted, “If you can’t drop this act - because I know its an act- and talk to me about what happened, and why it happened, then we are done here.”

She turned abruptly to walk away.  

“Niamh, wait.”

Panic seized him at the thought of this being their last conversation, and he reflexively grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to him.  For a moment, they stood just feet apart, looking at each other.  Her gaze softened, the crease between her coppery brows fading, and Solas presumed she had seen it in his eyes, the anguish he felt.

“I promise you, I am not going to question your decision, not this time,” Niamh assured him, “I just need to know… I need to understand.”

“You will,”Solas answered, “In time.”  He knew it was a pathetic defense, but he could offer her nothing else.

“No, that’s not good enough,” she snapped, her voice elevating again, “You have some really weird views about the elves, views that match absolutely nothing I have ever been told, nothing I have ever read about anywhere ever.”

“This knowledge is something that one can only acquire from journeying deep into the Fade,” he explained, “It is not something that - “

“Yes, yes.  I know,” she said sarcastically, gesturing emphatically with her hands, “These wonderful spirits of the Fade just flocked to you to bestow upon you boundless knowledge of a people that you do not consider yourself to have anything in common with.  Whether that is a lie, the truth, or some bastardized form of the truth, I was able to accept it.  It at least made sense.”

Solas watched intently as Niamh paced about in front of him while she spoke, appearing to become increasingly agitated as the conversation progressed.  Holes in his story that had once been small were widening, rapidly.  She would figure him out if she had not already.  He did not know whether to be relieved or terrified.

“You know what doesn’t make sense,” She asked rhetorically as she stopped pacing and stood directly in front of him, “How you, the man who refuses to associate with elves as a whole, seems to have some unspoken kinship with an ancient sentinel who is quite possibly thousands and thousands of years old.  Did the Fade do that to?”

“I empathized with Abelas,” Solas stated.  It was the truth, even if it was flimsy.

“Are you sure about that,” Niamh asked irreverently, “Because, I think everything confusing about you would be much better explained if you happened to be some kind of ancient being yourself.”

Her eyes locked directly with his, piercing through him entirely.  He blinked a few times and looked away.  He wanted to say something, to tell her that she was right and offer her an explanation for why he had been subversive.  Yet, he could not find the words.

“You don’t have to say anything.  I know that you won’t, anyway,” she said matter-of-factly, “But I sincerely hope that I’m right.  Everything is a lot easier to understand and forgive if that’s the case. It’s better to think you’re out of touch than an asshole who thinks he is better than everyone else.”

Again, he did not speak, but he did allow his gaze to meet hers again.  She smiled and shook her head.

“If I was wrong, you would be arguing with me,” she said with a laugh, even as a tear rolled down her cheek, “You love telling me when I’m wrong.”

“Vhenan,” he faltered, impressed by her intuition and touched by her emotion.  He reached out and wiped the tear away.  

“Goodbye, Solas,” she said solemnly.  She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his cheek, before turning and slowly leaving the room.  She did not glance back at him, not even once.

Tears burned in his own eyes as they started to fall freely.  He doubted that he would see her again before the battle with Corypheus, and whether she survived the encounter or not, he would not be present when she returned.  Once he regained possession of his foci, his duty would call him elsewhere.  Heartache was a complication that he had not anticipated.  He had never imagined that he could love someone from this world as he loved Niamh Lavellan.  He had misjudged her.  Perhaps he had misjudged everyone.  

Alas, it was too late to turn back now, with his plan already in motion.  

He returned to his desk, sat down at his chair, and pulled out his drawing.  He smiled as he traced the lines with his fingertips..  He opened one of the drawers on his desk, removing a decently sized bundle of parchment tied together with twine.  Pulling the knot loose revealed several other sketches of his love that he had done in the past year.  He placed the newest piece on top,  tied the twine as it had been before, and returned the bundle to the drawer.

On a blank piece of parchment, he wrote:

                    You were right, although I wish that were not so.

                                     You changed everything.

                                              Ir abelas.

He tossed it in the drawer along with his drawings of her.  Perhaps she would see them when she returned.

[the-rogue-apostate]

Out of the Darkness

Hi everyone, and welcome to "Out of the Darkness"! Just a few things I'd like to get out of the way:

Karalynn Bristow is not a human noble; want to put that out there first and foremost. It's solely a preference thing; you'll know what she's about pretty soon.

I will take liberties with a few canon details here and there, and I'll be happy to point them out or even offer explanations if anyone wishes me to.

This story is the first of three total stories encompassing the Inquisition storyline. HOWEVER, there will also be what I like to call "deleted scenes" that I'll post as separate works; basically little snippets here and there that don't necessarily need to be in the main story.

This will eventually lead to Cullen/Inquisitor, though the bulk of the romance will begin in the next story. If you're familiar with the romance from the game, you'll likely know what I mean.

I want to thank my good friend @veridium-bye!. She helped me a great deal in editing this thing, and indulged me in my ideas and rants about lore and whatnot. Please check her out, she also writes great fics! 

Generally, I will post a chapter every few days; if that changes, I will let you know.

All right! Thanks for reading my schpiel, let's get into it!

P.S. - some of you might wonder why I describe Leliana as wearing "dark armor" - I envision her in my head looking like she does in the "Dark and Worn - Leliana Remade" mod: (minus the green eyes the mod gives her)

Also, here’s a link to the story on Ao3!

Forward

The Chantry, the dominant religious organization in Thedas, is law.

It is rooted in four core principles which shape its very rule:

Firstly, magic is a corrupting influence in the world, and it should only be used to serve man; never to control him.

Second, Humankind’s sin of pride destroyed the Golden City, the seat of the Maker, and created darkspawn. The darkspawn are the living embodiment of that sin, and it is these creatures that released the taint upon the world.

Third is that the blessed Andraste was the bride of the Maker, a prophet and martyr whose ultimate sacrifice must be remembered and honored.

And finally, Humankind has sinned and must seek penance to earn the Maker’s forgiveness. When all people unite to praise the Maker, He will return to the world and make it a paradise.

Every Chantry in Thedas preaches this, and yet Thedas could not be farther from the Maker’s return. Humans are the only race to openly practice and participate in this religion, and as such, they are quick to segregate themselves from the other races of the land. Elves, dwarves, and Qunari; few members of each race may claim to believe in the Maker, but as such, none would be allowed to serve in the Chantry under any capacity.

And let us not forget those who are most segregated from the world under Chantry law; the mages.

In Thedas, with the exception of Tevinter, humans and elves born with the ability to wield magic are quickly taken into Chantry custody and housed in Circle towers. It is there they are taught how to use their abilities under the watchful eye of the Chantry’s templars. They are evaluated, monitored, and eventually undergo a harrowing to prove their mettle. It is considered a true success for a mage to pass their harrowing, but even so, becoming a full-fledged mage in the eyes of the Circle does not guarantee their freedom. No, under Chantry law, mages are deemed too dangerous to live amongst regular civilians and must remain confined to the Circle tower for the rest of their days. And despite the Chantry’s claim that it is only to ensure the safety of civilians and mages alike, it has been considered an outrage by the latter for ages.

And in 9:37 Dragon, a mage who had been living outside of the Circle, better known as an apostate, was finally driven over the edge by this injustice. He was called Anders, and his rage drove him to a breaking point which caused him to destroy the Chantry of Kirkwall in an explosion that shook the whole of Thedas.

And with that, the Mage Rebellion was born.

One by one, the Circle towers fell. Mages everywhere cast off the shackles of the Chantry and fled to their freedom. But it was not without resistance. The Templars of the Chantry, whose services were long taken advantage of, answered the call to arms and began hunting down these apostates. Their efforts were long taken for granted, however, and eventually they, too, rebelled against the Chantry.

By 9:40, the Chantry’s infrastructure was crumbling and on the verge of ruin. It’s leader, Divine Justinia V, made a final desperate attempt to end the violence once and for all. She called the mages and the templars to meet at her Divine Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes in Haven. If both side of the war could not reach an agreement here and now, Thedas would most assuredly be doomed.

At least, that is what most people thought. That the Mage-Templar War was the greatest danger they faced.

Little did they know that the true danger had yet to reveal itself.

A danger, despite knowing the core principles upon which they are based, that the Chantry did not expect.

Lucky for them, however, that in the face of an unexpected danger, there comes the opportunity for unexpected heroes.

Perhaps, then, the Maker has not entirely turned His back on Thedas after all…

 Chapter 1  

 Everything hurts.

 My head, my back, my knees, my…hand…?

 My left hand…

 Where am I…?

In her groggy waking state, Karalynn Bristow attempted to comprehend these thoughts – though her crippling exhaustion was not making it easy. All was made clear, however, as her eyes drifted open to reveal an unfamiliar sight.

She was kneeling on the floor in the center of a dungeon. It was dark, cold and damp; and she wasn’t alone. Surrounding her were four men, presumably guards, and their swords were drawn and pointed directly at her. Not only that, her wrists had been tightly shackled and chained to the floor.

This realization woke her up just a bit more.

Kara whipped her head around to look at each guard as she tried to figure out who they were. Their armor was unfamiliar, and their faces covered by their helms, but they guarded her with purpose. But what the hell could their purpose possibly be? Where was she? How did she even get here? And why was she in shackles?

These questions swirled around in her head, and her panic started to worsen. She was ready to open her mouth and demand answers, but any attempts at speech were immediately cut off by a sudden green light flashing out of nowhere. From what she could tell, its origin point came from the floor, and after her eyes adjusted to the brightness she lowered her head to investigate. Fortunately, it didn’t take her long to realize it’s true source.

 What the fuck is in my hand?

The green light flashed once more, and this time it was accompanied by a searing pain in her palm. She cried out, clenching her hand into a fist. The pain subsided after a few seconds, as did the light, but she felt no relief.

The door to the dungeon flew open with a bang. The lighting was low, even through the door, so she could only make out two silhouettes. Two women, it appeared, both tall, one donning a hood while the other carried a sword on her belt. The woman at the front approached her with purpose, and her features revealed themselves clearly.

She was indeed tall, with short black hair and a long scar adorning her pale cheek. She couldn’t quite make out the color of her eyes…only that they were drilling a hole into her very soul. Whoever this woman was, she clearly wasn’t happy. She slowed her pace as she approached and began walking around the back of her. Kara was certain she was going to feel a blade through her spine at any moment.

The other woman approached her, though most of her features were hidden by her dark hood. She donned dark armor from head to toe, and from what Kara could tell, she was glaring at her as well.

It was now becoming clear that these people, whoever they were, thought she was a criminal. Why, however, she had yet to find out. In truth, she was more concerned with the glowing shard embedded in her left palm.

In the midst of her internal concerns, however, she almost didn’t notice that the dark-haired woman had leaned down close to her head.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now…”

A more foreboding sentence could not have been spoken, and the woman’s thick accent made it twice as menacing. All Kara could do was turn to face her and furrow her brow in confusion. As much as she hated to admit it, she was scared.

No, with everything that was happening, she was terrified.

“The Conclave is destroyed,” the dark-haired woman continued, resuming her slow strut around her. “Everyone who attended is dead…”

Her tone was clearly laced with grief, but it made her no less intimidating. She stopped suddenly, turning on her heel and thrusting a finger in the young woman’s face.

“…Except for you.”

Kara was more confused than ever. What Conclave? What did she mean everyone was dead, except for her? How did this happen, and what does it have to do with the mark in her hand?

 …Wait.

 The Conclave…The Divine Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I was there…

“What do you mean ‘everyone is dead’? What happened?” she finally managed to choke out hoarsely.

The dark-haired woman grabbed her shackled left hand and held it out in front of her, glaring. The mark flared up once more, and Kara winced.

“Explain this!” she demanded, thrusting it back down to her knees.

“I can’t!” she shot back, sharper than she’d intended.

“What do you mean you can’t?” she questioned, her tone indicating she was growing impatient.

“I mean I don’t know what the hell this thing is, or how it got there!”

Kara couldn’t help but yell, as she was growing more and more frustrated. She immediately regretted it, however, as the woman lunged forward and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“You’re lying!” she growled, tightening her grip.

A mix of fear and anger boiled within Kara. It was clear this woman wanted to kill her for a terrible crime she didn’t commit; and there currently was no way for Kara to prove otherwise. As this woman continued to rough her up, Kara thought about her options. She could conjure a fireball, throw it in the woman’s face…but she wasn’t the only adversary in the room. The soldiers surrounding her would cut her down in a second. And no matter what she did, she was still locked tightly in her shackles.

But before she realized it, the hooded woman stepped forward and pulled the dark-haired woman back. Kara exhaled quietly.

“We need her, Cassandra!” the hooded woman told her.

Cassandra…

Cassandra nodded, stepping back even farther and straightening up. The hooded woman then turned back to Kara, studying her. If there were ever a chance to talk her way out of this, it was now.

The problem was, she didn’t know what to say. Then she remembered what the dark-haired woman said a moment prior.

“…everyone who attended is dead…except for you…”

“Are…are all those people really dead?” she asked, her voice still hoarse.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” the hooded woman asked.

Kara thought for a moment, though she worried her exasperation was beginning to show on her face. She could probably tell these people she knew nothing until she was blue in the face, and it wouldn’t satisfy them. It frustrated her even more than it frustrated them, her not being able to remember a damn thing before…

Wait…there is something…

“It’s all really fuzzy…” she began, staring at the floor as she tried to concentrate. “but I remember…running.”

Breathing heavily, her chest on fire, Kara took off as fast as she could. Where she would go, she had no clue. She had no idea where she was, how she had gotten here from the temple. All that mattered was that she outran the-

“Spiders. There were these giant spiders chasing me,” she continued. “There were at least a dozen of them, and they chased me to this-“

Rock face. There were what appeared to be steps embedded within, sticking out enough for her to just barely get a grip. She scaled the rock as fast as she could, but the spiders were gaining. She looked up, desperately searching for a sign that the top was near. The spiders were at her heels, and she could feel herself getting weaker. But then-

“…I saw a woman,” she remembered, clearly surprised by her own memory.

“A woman?” the hooded woman repeated, just as surprised.

“Yes…I-I don’t know who she was though. I couldn’t make out her features…but she…reached out to me…”

It was clear that the hooded woman’s curiosity was piqued, though Kara was having trouble remembering further. Cassandra then stepped forward and ushered the hooded woman towards the door.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” she instructed. “I will take her to the rift.”

The rift?

The hooded woman nodded, then disappeared down the hall. Cassandra then turned back to Kara and approached her once more. Kara leaned back slightly as she knelt down in front of her, but was surprised when she began unlocking her shackles.

“What did happen?” Kara asked her. She realized that they didn’t tell her how the Conclave was destroyed, and she was genuinely curious. More than that, she wanted to know how she herself survived it; more than the rest of them did.

Cassandra quickly pulled a smaller set of shackles from her belt, fastening them to Kara’s wrists so that they were now locked closer together.

“It…would be easier to show you,” Cassandra explained, pulling Kara to her feet.

She turned and headed through the door, Kara quickly following suit. It was when she began to move, however, that Kara realized just how weak she was. Her knees still hurt, as did the rest of her legs, and she was fighting off a relentless pang of dizziness. She then wondered how long she had been unconscious…and just what exactly she went through before she was taken to the prison.

When they finally reached the front doors, Cassandra pushed them open. As Kara walked out slowly, she realized it was nighttime. She recalled entering the Temple during the day, so she knew it had to be at least a few hours later…

A flash of light caused Kara to avert her eyes for a moment, but when she looked back up she was met with a terrible sight. High up in the sky, a decent distance away and up above the mountains, there was a gaping hole in the clouds. It was massive, and the clouds around it morphed into a cyclone and glowed a blinding green. More than that, there was more of the green glow pouring out of it into the valley below, and green debris flying out of it in all directions. It didn’t even look real; it couldn’t be real.

“Maker…” Kara muttered in horror, unable to peel her eyes from it.

“We call it ‘The Breach,’” Cassandra explained. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.”

Kara looked at her with disbelief. “’The world of demons?’ You’re talking about the Fade?”

Cassandra nodded. “Yes, and it’s not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

So it was an explosion…but how could an explosion blow a hole through the Veil?

“How could an explosion possibly do that? And you said it’s growing?” Kara was beginning to panic, but Cassandra was surprisingly calm. They may have been dealing with this longer than she thought.

“We are unsure. But unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

Just as she finished her sentence, a large crack erupted through the air. A shockwave of bright light shot outward from the Breach and lit up the sky. Not even a second later, the mark in Kara’s hand erupted in the same fashion and sent a burst of pain through her entire left arm. She cried out, extending her arms out in front of her and fell to her knees. She grit her teeth as she rode out the pain, and after a few moments, it was gone. Cassandra knelt down in front of her as she attempted to slow her breathing.

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads, and it is killing you,” she explained, gesturing to Kara’s hand.

 “Killing me?!”

“It may be the key to stopping this, however, there isn’t much time.”

Kara’s patience was running thin, especially now with the realization that this mysterious mark was draining her very life away. She wanted answers, but Cassandra merely wanted results. Either way, the confusion of it all was really starting to piss Kara off.

“What do you mean ‘it may be the key?’” Kara asked her, trying to keep her tone steady. “The key to doing what?”

“Closing the breach. Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however, and yours.”

With her last sentence, Kara finally started putting the pieces together in her head.

“I see…you people think I’m responsible…not just for the explosion, but for this thing in my hand,” she declared.

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. “Someone is responsible for this, and you are our only suspect. As for the mark on your hand, all that is clear is that something went wrong. You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way.”

Kara exhaled. As much as she hated to admit it, especially with her very life on the line, this woman was right. If everyone at the Conclave was indeed dead (which seemed likely considering the gaping hole right above where the Temple once stood), and she was the only one to miraculously survive, why wouldn’t they suspect her? She also thought about the obvious aspect to it all; that there is a danger threatening the world worse than anything she had ever seen. Whether she was in shackles or roaming free in the wilderness, she had to do something. She had to help close this Breach and save the few people she still had left in the world.

“You really think this mark can help close that thing?”

“That is what we believe,” Cassandra replied plainly.

“All right. If that’s the case, then I want to help. I don’t know if this thing will even work, but I know I have to try.”

Cassandra nodded, and the slightest hint of a smile crossed her lips as she helped pull Kara to her knees. Kara nodded in response, and the two of them began to make their way towards the camp nearby. There was still something nagging in Kara’s mind, however, something big enough to stop her dead in their tracks after just a few paces. Cassandra turned and looked at her in disbelief.

“What is it?” she asked impatiently.

“I’m sorry, I just…” Kara began, hesitating. “It’s…Cassandra, right?”

“Yes…” she replied slowly, confusion spreading across her face.

“Right…before we go, Cassandra, just tell me one thing. Who do you work for?” She was almost afraid to hear the answer. Cassandra sighed. “I am…was the Right Hand of the Divine to Divine Justinia V. I am an agent of the Chantry.”

Damnit...

[moontheoretist]

Circles of Magi - Discussion

I dunno what happened, but I couldn't reblog post about Circles, so I had to create separate post to add something from myself.

@darktemplar84 Don't forget that Felix was not good at magic and we all know what happens to mages in Southern Thedas, when they are not good enough to pass the Harrowing. They go through tranquility or fail the Harrowing and are killed (despite the fact that there may be a way to save them). While in the same time in Tevinter, mage who cannot pass the Harrowing CAN BECOME A SCHOLAR and go to the University of Orlais! It's exactly the case of Minaeve in DAI. If Circles weren't teared down in DAI, she would be made Tranquil, because she was not good enough at magic to pass the Harrowing, but thanks to the Rebellion, she could become kind of the scholar for the Inquisitor. (Vivienne says that Breach is dangerous because it increases chances of possesion, and I cannot argue with that, but as long as mage feels safe, like Minaeve, there is no possesion. It means that possesion can be avoided. I cannot really recall any information about abominations in the Inquisition, despite Cullen and Vivienne being so sure that there will be problem with that, because game doesn’t give this information in the first place). [I like to think that there were none, and that Cullen and Vivienne were utterly surprised.]

About noble families: Warden Amell were noble once. But when their magic manifested, which ended with them being taken to the Circle, they lost the right to hold the title (Connor is in the same boat here). But then if they become a Warden they suddenly can become someone important and in their case it's mostly because Warden's are independent and nobody can tell them what they can or what they can't do, even the Chantry, so when Wardens are granted the right to the Arlat of Amaranthine, nobody really cares that Warden is a mage in the end. Hawke from the other hand could be considered as a noble from Amell family, but once again, nobody really cares that they are a mage and I think that it's due to the fact that lore has too many plotholes and too many cases of individual mages being treated good or being treated bad, or that it’s the side effect of the situation, in which Bioware had to come up with good explanation why Hawke can hold an estate in Kirkwall and be a Champion, despite being an apostate mage, but failed miserably.

There is something wrong with the Circles in the lore. Once they are good, once they are bad. I was literally thinking that Ferelden Circle was ok, untill I went into basement where I found a lot of blood and demons... and I started to wonder... why they are there? I never played Awakening, but I know what Anders is saying about Circles and we should really reconsider the point of view, when we are talking about Circles. Some mages had more freedom and more chances to become important, than the others. I dunno how Vivienne's Circle looked like, but I try to imagine, and I sometimes wonder how many mages failed where she succeded. She holds power and lives better life than other mages, because she outsmarted the system. But still she is pro-Circle, because she sees it as institution, which could work better. 

I also can imagine it as something good... but I cannot imagine it in the same way as Vivienne can. She doesn't see flaws in the Chantry, and I see too many of them. That's why for me Circles would work if they were separated from the Chantry and would be treated as private schools. People still would be "locked up" there, but they would at least have vacation and could go see their families or invide their families inside. And atmosphere would be different without Templars always watching. I cannot imagine school with such security. I would not really be able to focus on learning if somebody would watch my every move. It's unnerving. (And if someone thinks that being scared helps mages, then... no, it doesn't, it makes it even harder for them to pass Harrowing). 

If we want to have Harrowing in the end (I don't, because there are better ways to test mages, than forcing them to deal with the demon), then it should not be something, which nobody knows about. Ferelden Circle mages were afraid of Harrowing, and they were constantly talking about mages dissapearing and never coming back, which reffers to them failing the Harrowing. Nobody knows what it is, and when Irving gives you advices in DAO, Gregoir basically stops him from "helping you". How fucked up is that? Tevinter version is probably more like our exams at the end of high school. We all don't like them, but we at least know how they look like and we are prepared to take them.

In the end Circles end as some kind of prisons like @notsosecretsolasobsession said. They are not Hogwart, there is too many things, which make them different than Hogwart, but also a lot of things which make them different from one another as well. Kirkwall was the worst one and Ferelden is treated as one of the best ones, at least by one of the in-game character, who wrote the codex entry about Circles. Even he noticed that something is wrong with the system and that it should be fixed. (And because codex entries are written by Bioware writers, we know that Bioware see the problem too).

@morealivethanvenser has a point here that Circles were not meant to be prisons, but after some time they were forced to become ones. I still can argue that they were like prisons before, because I cannot imagine that taking children from their families and shipping them somewhere, without even letting children to contact their parents later is a good thing. And when they are adults a lot of them may not want or not be able to reach their families. Anders would not want to see his father after what he did and I cannot imagine that his mother stayed with the guy after that. Revka Amell dissapears after Fausten Amell dies and father of Warden Amell dissapears too with the rest of the children, so there is no way to contact them. Some like Finn have the opportunity to contact their families, but we shouldn’t really treat it as a norm. Because with the Circles there is no norm. 

The only norms, which I see are the flaws in the system itself. Huge ones or minor ones, depending on the Circle. But for me all system is flawed, because mages are treated like the only ones, which can be possesed... and it’s not really true. They are more likely to be (statistically), but everybody else can be too. Does it mean that we should lock them up and make them feel ashamed of who they are or treat them like the ticking bombs, who can become monsters at any second...? I think that it’s not really a good way to teach someone, that they have to learn to control their magic. 

But Chantry made it possible, because they interpret Chant of Light as they see fit... and do I have to add that one of Chantry Sisters NPC in DAI actually says that mages were beaten in the Circles, and that mages were hiding their bruises, so nobody would know, how they were treated? She never stated in which Circle she was, though. I can only assume that it was not Kirkwall Circle.

@laurelsofhighever Wanna add something to this?

Links to the most interesting answers:

Connor’s Noble Title

Nobles and Commoners

Not Intended to be Prisons

Circle Reform is Needed

Harrowing

You can go outsite as long as you have important friends

There was also the post about Templars, where someone said that they are unfairly treated as bad people by the fandom, and this person has a point, but in the same time Cole has a point too, when he says that a lot of Templars abuse mages to feel better. The good Templars tho... why they always end so poorly? Losing people they love (Thrask). Being addicted to the point of no come back (Samson) and being tortured by desire demon (Cullen). 

We cannot also forget that Templars even when they see that not all mages are bad and they are not bad themsemselves, still do nothing to stop the bad things from happening (and for the victim of abuse, the person who does nothing to stop abuse, is the same as the person, who abuses them), because they were brainwashed into thinking that mages should be locked down, because they are potential monsters. 

Cullen never fully recovered from his previous attitude, he still is afraid of mages and not feel safe with them around. It’s understandable after what happened to him, but... it’s bad to exclude someone, who you love and treat them as exception of the rule (Cullen still can love a mage), while in the same time thinking about other mages as potential monsters. It’s the problem. I would even say that it’s a social issue in Thedas. 

Mages are treated as if they were not people by the society in Southern Thedas, while in the same time elves are treated (by the same society) as knife-eared brutes, which are below everyone else (and quess who doesn’t caaaree about that, yes, the Chantry doesn’t care). Templars are made addict to the lyrium by the Chantry... mages are treated like an embodiment of the sin, which created the Blight and elves... elves are erased from the history of the Chantry so Chantry could treat them as lower class citizens. 

Chantry is the big bad here, really.

[maiden-of-wolves]

Ariel & Fox - Persistance

“Meeting” Scene Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

This is a bit of a side-track where I brought in my Herald/Inquisitor Venna to talk with Fox; then with Ariel. I felt like I needed to balance out that last part since Ariel’s acting strangely in this AU.

After sending for Ivan to join him at Haven, Fox went into the small tavern to find Venna. He cheerfully waved off Varric’s invitation before tapping the Herald on the shoulder. His voice was low and serious, though the smile didn’t leave his face. “We need to talk.”

That wasn’t good. Venna quirked a brow as she glanced over at him. She hadn’t seen Fox this serious since they first met him. “Sure,” she answered. She’d have to toss the game to talk, but she’d barely put down anything. “Don’t hold anyone up, Varric,” she insisted, gesturing to the dwarf with a smirk. “I’ll be back later. Divvy up the hand and my pot.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back, but not quick enough for a round.”

“Alright,” he sighed. A quick look around the table and he added, “you heard the Herald. Pot and cards up for grabs.”

Venna stood and laughed at the chaos of arms and cries of ‘not fair’ or something of the sort echoed across the tavern. She headed to the door where she saw Fox waiting. “What do we need to discuss, Fox?” she asked, curious, but not yet letting her concern bubble to the surface. For all she knew he just needed her to get a specific ingredient.

Fox gestured for her to walk with them and took his time phrasing what he wanted to say. “Ariel is unwell. It’s a condition familiar from the Circles in Minrathous and Asariel.”

Venna walked with him without hesitation, though the fact that he seemed to be at a loss for words was concerning. She kept stealing glances at him, even in between the small nods of acknowledgement to passing soldiers or support staff that knew her personally. What he finally said was unexpected, to say the least. Her brows shot up at the news. “She’s sick? I thought… she’s been isolating herself. How did she come down with something new?”

“It is… Something you do not catch from others. Like wasting sickness, it comes from the Fade or from within. Regardless, it can coerce her, much like a demon, to cause harm to herself. I have written my mentor for treatment, but it will take time to arrive.”

Venna’s mind struggled to put together the pieces. How had she missed this? “What are the signs?” she asked, though didn’t give him any time to answer before she spoke up again. She reached up to tangle her fingers in her stray strands of hair from her bun and furrowed her brow. “I… feel quite upset that I didn’t see something so wrong. Should I spend time with her? I was respecting her privacy and she seemed happy that she completed a project recently. She’s a little cavelier with her health, but other than that she seemed alright.”

“Time with her would be good, but she must have something to do. She believes life to be all accounted on some kind of ledger and will be angry that you’re ‘charging her’ with your help.” Fox held up his hand to stop any interruption. “I know you’d never consider it such, it is part of her sickness. It’s not about happiness or finishing projects. There’s no sense to it, at times.  The signs are…” He sighed. “People hide it because of the ledger. She said she had it, I think not expecting me to know what it was.”

Venna looked very confused by his description. Even though he’d held up a hand to stop her she was a bit too off-kilter to have tried to interrupt. It did help to have her refocus on what he was saying. “She must have really broken down if she told you about it, by your account. What happened?”

“I can only speculate. She thought I was angry with her, threatening, as the trigger, but many things lead to it. Homesickness, poor physical health, she was being treated for it before, at her home. I don’t know with what, but some of the treatments can have withdrawals, like Templars without lyrium - that could well have caused it.” He tugged on the edge of his braid. “I’ve set a few cats to watching her - ensure she sleeps the night through.”

Venna nodded through his description, trying to wrack her brain for memories that would have tipped her off. ��Well, she was very intimidated by Bull, despite apparently being glad we recruited him and speaking highly of him. Not sure if it was the height or what. Always walked on eggshells and jumped when he called to her. But I do remember, especially when she first came here, that she would always ask for things to do. And she became terribly upset when she couldn’t read or write. Perhaps it’s just been building since then…”

“It comes back to that ledger. She believes she does not deserve basic kindness and consideration and the illness becomes worse when she cannot ‘pay back’ that ledger.” Fox sighed. “I’ve seen a great deal of it, I’m afraid.”

That sounded like a very stressful way to live. Venna wondered idly for a moment or two just how she got that mentality instilled. Fox said it was an illness, apparently of the mind or spirit given the symptoms, but it seemed like more than that. “Would it be worth trying to talk to her about it, do you think? Ariel doesn’t do things for others expecting repayment. Though I suspect she may have been if I asked her to do it, considering your ledger explanation. Would it help to tell her it’s okay not to keep account?”

“I haven’t a clue, to be honest. I wouldn’t have even known of the tincture if not for my mentor worrying on my behalf when I was transferred to Minrathous. My studies were all on elemental magic or fear.” He sighed again and tossed his braid over his shoulder before he pulled it out. “All I know is that saying things are alright or will be better or that ‘it’s just an illness you’re actually fine’ will only make it worse.”

“Well, thank you for sending off for the tincture,” Venna sighed, wondering how in the world Ariel had kept this from her. Her mind was already engraving the ‘do not say’ list into her brain. “You said she’s sleeping? The cats would tell you otherwise, right?”

“Still in her cabin, at least. My ability isn’t complex enough to have one come tell you, unfortunately.” Fox shrugged. “As I said, my studies were focused elsewhere.”

The Herald laughed at the idea of the cats actually talking. “I’d be thoroughly impressed if you could actually get a cat to speak Common!”

Fox chuckled in return. “You know what I meant.”

“Yes,” Venna admitted. “But that thought was too amusing to not share.” She offered him a broad smile for a moment before letting it slip away. “Thank you for telling me about Ariel. I think I will let her sleep tonight. I’ll bring her a banquet tomorrow. She does seem to perk up about food. Sweets in particular, but those are rare around here.” A small part of her wondered why she was telling him so much about her friend, but it seemed harmless so she let it go.

“If my mentor sends any advise on what to say to her, I will pass it along,” Fox said.

Venna left him with a low nod of understanding and semi-formal goodbye. She had a game to get back to, and it seemed that Ariel would be safe enough on her own for the time being.

The morning came without any further unexpected interruptions. Well, aside from the now normal constant inquiries on Venna’s time. She had to tell Leliana that she was going to be unavailable for a little while and to take any inquiries for her until then just to get a moment’s peace. Wandering down to the temporary kitchens she scrounged for leftovers from the breakfast she’d partaken of a couple hours earlier.

“Anything sweet left over from last night?” she asked one of the attendants.

“I dunno…hold on,” one answered, shuffling around in the prep-stations and looking through several small containers. Finally something garnered a small ‘ah!’ from them as they pulled out a singular round cookie. “With a dash of spice. It’s from yesterday should still be good.”

“Great! Thank you~” Venna replied, happily taking the offered confection.

Several people offered to help her carry the plates she had balanced along her arms and held on her palms but she gracefully avoided their hands and insisted that she could handle it herself. She got a bit of a confused look from Cullen, but once he realized where she was going with all that he actually asked his lieutenant to take over for him for a moment and hurried to catch up to her.

“Are we bribing Ariel with food now?” he asked, small smile and lighthearted tone making it plain that he was joking.

“In a way…” Venna admitted, not sure if Ariel would appreciate her telling the inner circle about her illness. “She’s not feeling well, or so Fox tells me. I thought she’d appreciate breakfast in bed.”

“That’s more than just breakfast,” he noted, still lighthearted but the smile had vanished. He was concerned. “Has she not been eating again? She looked alright the other day when she was poking around the blacksmith for leather scraps. Certainly had a lot of energy to be ‘discussing’ the matter with smithy staff.”

Venna wasn’t sure how to reply. There wasn’t a good answer without explaining her illness. “Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t,” she finally answered. “But these plates are getting heavy, Cullen. I should get moving.”

“Of course,” he replied with a nod, letting the discussion drop. “Should I at least come with you to get the door?” he asked after a moment of eying her plates. “Since it’s not that far,” he added quickly, since it seemed as if she didn’t want to keep him.

Venna knew that she could open the door on her own with a little touch of magic, but doing so with just the movement of a chin would be difficult and she had a feeling that she’d need to conserve her energy for Ariel. “Yes, thank you,” she accepted after a moment. “But please return right after. I’m sure the recruits are already goofing off without your oversight.”

The Commander knew she was teasing at that one. Their recruits might not have been the best soldier stock to be pulling from, but the majority were very dedicated. This was to protect their loved ones, their homes. Passion was not something they lacked. He offered the Herald a smile and followed behind her for the time being.

When they reached the cabin door Venna stood aside and nodded to the door.

Cullen knocked at Venna’s gesture, but there was no answer.

“Ariel? I’ve brought food,” Venna called. “Can I come in?”

There was still no answer. Both the Commander and the Herald exchanged concerned glances. Venna gestured to the door again and Cullen opened it for her. Peeking her head in, Venna immediately noted that Ariel wasn’t at her desk. A few moments more examination revealed a suspiciously large bundle of blankets on her bed, however, which answered the question of where the woman was. “I think she’s just still asleep,” she sighed.

At that, a rather fluffy brown and white cat strode up to her and meowed loudly. It sat politely on its haunches, eyes gleaming as it flickered its gaze between the plates. “Oh, so you’re hungry too, hm?” she asked it, a small smile parting her lips. The meowed again in response, insisting with a few smaller mews afterwards.

Cullen struggled to tear his gaze from the bundle of furs on the bed. No one slept in a ball normally. Those that did were terrified or inconsolable, at least, and either of those was of great concern. “Do you need help putting those down?” He offered to Venna once he finally pulled his gaze away, trying to keep his mind focused on something that he could deal with.

Venna shook her head, carefully stepping around the cat. “No, I can split them up,” she replied. “Thank you, Cullen.”

He nodded, but hesitated in leaving. While Cullen knew he probably wouldn’t be of any assistance, he tried to think of a way to help. He could fight a physical demon, but trying to console someone? Especially if that someone was a mage with a knack for dodging questions she didn’t want to answer with biting, sarcastic commentary? That was… not his forte. Hopefully Venna was better at it and Ariel would feel better soon. That worry relinquished for the time being, he nodded to Venna and took his leave. He was careful with the door for once, doing his best to close it as quietly as possible.

Venna sighed when she was left alone with Ariel. “Are you awake over there?” she asked. There was no response as she set down two of her plates on the desk. Venna had to adjust one so the food wouldn’t slide off. Her desk was messy enough without breadcrumbs or patty grease.

“Are you dead?” Clearly the new question was made in jest as she wandered over to the bed.

It wasn’t until she was almost to the bundle that it shuffled a bit and a muffled sound came out that was short enough to have been a ‘no’.

Venna sat down on the corner, quickly joined by the earlier feline companion. He, Venna noticed, stretched lazily and then promptly snatched a slice of bacon from one of the plates she put down. Thankfully he also went to the floor to eat so she didn’t have to shoo him to prevent pieces of meat sticking to the furs on Ariel’s bed. “Am I going to have to talk to you through three layers of blankets?”

Another noise filtered through the blanket, long and low like a drawn-out groan. Slowly, the base of the mass moved and hands slipped out. Some shuffling seemed to decrease the size of the lump and finally Ariel sat up, hugging the blankets around her shoulders.

Even though she knew it probably wasn’t the best response, Venna couldn’t help her immediate expression of concern that verged on pity. “Well, you look like shit,” she said, managing to offer a smile to make it clear that she was just teasing her.

“That’s helpful,” Ariel muttered, “‘cause I also feel like shit. So for once, my insides match my outsides. There’s harmony in the universe.” The sarcasm was heavily-laden with her depression, but at least it was a relatively normal response from her.

Venna licked her thumb and reached out, wiping at Ariel’s face. “Did you cry all night? You’ve got tear streaks…”

“Not all night,” Ariel answered, brows furrowing as she pushed away Venna’s attentions after the first few wipes. “Maybe. I dunno. Not like I was paying attention to the time.”

The Herald sighed again. She had a feeling there were going to be a lot of those in this interaction. “I brought a bunch of food,” Venna reminded her friend. “Can you eat with me? Your cat’s already started.”

“It’s Fox’s cat,” she answered, though her eyes did shift to the food.

Okay, so that wasn’t an inroad. Surprising, considering how much she had seemed to love interacting with the animals around Haven. Venna tried a different tactic and reached over to the closest plate to pick up a biscuit. “Bread’s still soft. They made it early this morning.” To emphasize the description, she bit into it and the remaining edge of the baked good flaked slightly while she chewed.

Ariel couldn’t deny that she was hungry. Still, she only reached over to a bacon slice and brought that back to her mouth. “I can’t have the bread,” she said before biting into the bacon. Even though she was talking, it wasn’t clear if it was even aimed at Venna.

“Why not?” The Herald asked. “I thought you loved bread.”

“I’ll get fat,” she answered flatly after swallowing her first bite. Without elaborating, she continued to eat.

“From one biscuit?”

“You brought four plates,” Ariel retorted.

“No just of biscuits,” Venna reminded her.

“Then I’ll eat the meat.”

“Would you turn this down, then?” Venna asked, pulling out the cookie she’d gotten. “I saved it for you. It’s from last night.”

Ariel eyed the treat, focus finally clear and sharp for the first time since they’d begun talking. The Herald waved it around like one would a cat toy and Ariel’s eyes followed but she didn’t say a word or move otherwise.

“Well....” Venna began, a tiny smile twisting the corners of her lips. “If you’re not going to eat it…” She let her words trail off and slowly brought it close to her own lips.

But when she opened her mouth to bite it had been snatched out of her (admittedly quite loose) grip. There was no teasing commentary as Venna watched Ariel enjoy her treat. The first bite had taken out half the cookie already and she greedily stuffed the other half in her mouth as soon as she’d swallowed the first mouthful.

“I take it that means it’s good?”

“It’s sweet. Tastes like cinnamon, too…” Ariel murmured through pursed lips so she wouldn’t be subjecting Venna to the sight of food as she chewed. “Like Mom’s snickerdoodles…”

“Snickerdoodles?” Venna echoed, quirking a brow. “That’s a strange name.”

“I know, right?” Ariel answered, finally able to swallow the rest down so she could speak properly again. “Dunno what the story is behind the name, though.”

“Sometimes you don’t need to know,” the Herald said with a small shrug. “It’s a cute and funny name for a tasty treat. Sounds just fine to me.”

“I guess…”

The pair settled into a semi-comfortable silence. Venna had already eaten, but she would periodically take bites from a biscuit to encourage Ariel to do the same. While she often eyed the bread, she never took one. Instead, she nibbled plaintively on more bacon slices.

Once it became clear that Ariel was merely humoring her, Venna sighed and spoke up. “Why are you worried about getting fat?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking if I’m hungry?” Ariel replied back.

“No. Because you will almost always eat if given food.”

“Which would make my ‘worry’ about getting fat not so much of a worry as an inevitability.”

Venna outright rolled her eyes at that. “Not with how hard you work yourself. But why does it matter to you if you do? I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t!” Ariel found herself snapping. She put the slice that she was eating down on the plate gently, taking in and slowly releasing a breath. She hadn’t meant to snap. “You’re always like this,” she said, gesturing vaguely to her friend’s general body shape. Venna opened her mouth to ask what Ariel meant, but her friend barrelled onward. “Thin. Pretty. Beautiful, frankly. I’ve seen you eat a plate piled high with goodies and there wasn’t so much as an inch difference in your waist or thighs.”

At first, Venna wasn’t sure what to say. Certainly the truth of ‘it’s just the way I am’ wasn’t going to help. After a few moments, however, an idea came to her. “Meanwhile, you can cry your eyes out or get covered in dirt and all you need is a hankerchief.”

Ariel tilted her head and nibbled on her lower lip in thought. “I don’t understand—”

“And that!” Venna gasped, gesturing at Ariel’s face. “Your little head tilt is unusual and really cute!”

Ariel’s face flushed and the biting got worse. “I don’t mean to—”

She refused to let her friend talk. “And even though you nibble away at your lip it always looks perfect.”

Ariel started to look away and Venna grasped her face just tightly enough to force her to look at her but hopefully not so tight as to scare her. “People are who they are,” she said quietly, watching Ariel’s eyes to make sure she wasn’t frightened. She leaned forward, putting their foreheads together for a moment and closing her eyes. “Just because you aren’t like me or anyone else here doesn’t mean you’re any less pretty or worthwhile.” Ariel didn’t say a word, the only indication that she was even breathing was in the feel of her breaths on Venna’s collarbone. “Okay?” Venna asked, leaning back and offering her friend a smile.

Ariel couldn’t find the words, so she simply nodded. She tried a smile, but it was a tiny thing with no teeth. A strangled laugh escaped her throat as she pulled up her hands to rub at her eyes. The sheen that had developed was quickly wiped away.

After a few moments of shared relief, Ariel leaned over and grasped a biscuit. She looked over at it, as if evaluating whether it was actually a good idea.

Venna’s brows shot up, but she wasn’t about to actually comment for fear of setting them back.

Screw it! With an oddly triumphant expression, Ariel took a big bite of the baked good. A smile spread across her lips and her eyes closed. It was a stupid thing to be so happy about, she knew, but for once that didn’t stop her enjoyment.

The Herald chuckled before reaching out and patting her head. A little awkward to do given that Ariel was two inches taller than her and that was entirely in the torso, but she managed. “I’ve got to get back before Leli’s overloaded with requests,” Venna said with a small sigh as she put her hand down. “Varric’s got another game going tonight. I know you don’t win much, but it’s supposed to just be fun. You’ve been missing out on a lot of good stories.”

“Have I now?”

“It’s supposed to be Bull’s turn tonight.”

“Turn for—”

“Stories, of course.”

“Oh, so I’ll miss the great Varric Tethras spinning wild tales?”

“Not if you start coming regularly.”

Ariel could only offer a huff of a laugh at that reminder as she finished her biscuit. She went quiet and focused on her desk for a few moments before shrugging off the furs and getting out of bed. “I have a project to start on,” she said, pausing only to take stock of where the cat was and leaning down to pet him as she walked by. “But I think I’ll go.”

“You think?” Venna pushed, standing up but not yet following as she watched her friend.

“You’ll be there, right?” Ariel asked in return, turning around to look at the Herald.

“I do my best not to miss them. Don’t slip out if you don’t see me. Sometimes I’m late.”

“Sure…” Ariel didn’t seem at all convinced and wondered if maybe Venna thought she would stay no matter what if she just showed up. For now, though, she settled back down in her ever-familiar chair. She scanned over what she’d written in Trade the evening before. It seemed so sure and crisp. Much different than her normal chicken-scratch.

“You’ve already gotten Trade down, huh?” Venna asked, having leaned over the side of the tower of books next to her.

Ariel jerked, taking in a sharp breath at her appearance. It didn’t make sense why, and she inwardly chided herself for it. “Not really,” she admitted, looking to Venna. “Just enough to get the point across, maybe.”

“But all you had were the lessons you took notes on from Josie and Leliana, right?”

“And those took weeks. I didn’t want to take any more of their time since they both have so much to do anyway.”

Venna bit back the comment she wanted to make about her not being a burden. That wouldn’t help. “But didn’t you also give Leliana that cipher?”

“My writing, yeah.”

“She often references its continued success at the war table.”

Ariel blinked, expression shifting into confusion. “Really?”

“Yes,” Venna assured her with a smile. “It’s given us a extra layer of protection and she says that later, when we’re larger, it’ll help weed out spies because it takes a while to learn.”

“Huh…” Ariel leaned back in her chair, uncertain how to process that. “Well, I’m glad it helped, I guess?” she offered after a few moment’s thought.

As she went back to her writing, she realized that she was working slowly. It wasn’t simple like last night and she wondered why. Maybe she didn’t care so much how it turned out? Was she more focused?

“What is this project, may I ask?”

“I wanted to write down everything I knew,” Ariel answered simply. “In case anything happens to me.”

It was Venna’s turn to be confused. Fox’s description of her illness echoed through her brain suddenly. The illness can, like a demon, coax her into harming herself. But surely Ariel wouldn’t do that. There was no reason to and she was giving her something to focus on. “Why would anything happen to you?”

“Because there’ll be a battle. And I’m not good at battle.”

“Other people are,” Venna reminded her gently. “You’ll be alright. We’ll make sure of that. But I appreciate the thought. If you’ve been exposed to too much magic we’ll just consult that until you’re better. It will be helpful.”

“That’s me,” Ariel replied. “A helper.”

Venna wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not. “I’m going to leave these plates here, okay?” she asked.

“Sure,” Ariel replied, though she didn’t pause from her concentration on her newest project.

“That way you have no excuse for not eating.”

“Right.”

“Alright then. I will see you at the game tonight. Tavern, like always.”

“Yup.”

Even when Venna reluctantly moved to the door Ariel continued working. She only moved when Venna waved at her from the door, but it was only to wave back with the hand that wasn’t writing. It was only when Venna sighed that Ariel stretched to grab a biscuit from the plate that was balanced on the stack of books next to her. At least that was a good sign.

[theharellan]

It’s been three years, and I fucking love Solas. Someone help me.

Are you ready for some unabashed Solas love? I sure am.

So three years today I was coming to the end of my first playthrough of Dragon Age: Inquisition. I’d already made a blog for my Inquisitor Cadash (before the game came out, to open up after I beat it), and that was all I was expecting to make.

Then, some bald elf grabbed her hand and helped her close her first Breach. I’d kept up with Inquisition news, and Solas seemed cool, interesting enough. I wasn’t really expecting or prepared for how much I’d come to love him. By Temple of Mythal I’d made a Solas blog, and when I finished on the 22nd I made the finishing touches, and here we are!

I wanted to spend some time talking about what I love about Solas, since there’s a lot of negativity about the character. Rping him I know that kind of negativity (not even criticism, which he very much deserves, just negativity that often completely ignores vast swathes of characterisation) can get very tiring to read and humour. Yes, I know he’s trash, let me tell you why I love him, both in spite of and because of those qualities.

Without further ado, welcome. Welcome to my disorganised rambling essay/list of why I have been writing this loser for three years now:

What first drew me to Solas was his experiences as a Dreamer. I majored in history as an undergrad, one of my favourite things as a historian was reading and reviewing primary sources. You find the truth in them, but only one person’s version of the truth. When Solas spoke of dreaming, he spoke to that knowledge: that history is never one story, and that at Ostagar Loghain could be  hero and a villain at the same time. Both were valid readings, and both were memories that deserved to be remembered. Having a character who spoke to the history nerd in me was very special, I won’t lie.

As the game continued, Solas totally revolutionized Dragon Age lore for me? Even before it started to become obvious that he was more than just an elf who liked napping. Before Solas and Cole the Fade wasn’t a particularly interesting part of the world for me, but how Solas explained the personhood of spirits really affirmed what Dragon Age 2 had started to explore with the nature of Justice/Vengeance and Merrill’s banter.

It was some really beautiful world-building, to slowly pull back the veil (ha) and reveal that our perception of spirits in early games was really misguided.

And once it became obvious he was something more than what he wanted us to think (I had guessed he was related to Fen’Harel- although I had assumed it was something along the lines of Felassan since I had finished TME just before DA:I) it got even better? In DA:O elf lore didn’t really grab me like the dwarves or qunari, or even the mages. DA2 improved with Merrill, and then in DA:I Solas took what Merrill had granted us and ran with it. The lore he introduced was what made me elf trash, honestly. Before I was just kind of like... elf recycling? I loved Merrill, but wasn’t all that interested in Dragon Age elf lore as a concept. Now I am 100% trash and I will rot in this elf garbage dump until the universe ends.

His and Sera’s perspective on the Dalish really jerked me out of the perception of Dalish elves being Perfectly Fallen Elves, which had never been true, but their flaws are much more muted in DA:O and it took several playthroughs before I could really begin to wrap my head around how their behaviour towards Merrill only made matters worse. By listening to Solas and also Sera’s perception of them, it made going back and replaying early games more exciting, as I could see the seeds of issues DA:I would eventually explore. It’s why I enjoy DA:I so much because, imo, it compliments the lore of DA:O and DA2 so well for the most part.

And the lore he eventually brings to Elvhenan? Fantastic. Like I said, I had read TME beforehand, so I was already aware Elvhenan had issues, but revelation that the Elvhen gods were never gods, that their empire was not the perfect thing we had been led to believe? As much as DA:I played up the high fantasy angle more than DA:O and DA2, that revelation was very much a dark fantasy trope, and it fit perfectly with the overall tone in the series whereas before Elvhenan had seemed a little out of place. Empires are shitty by nature, and it was good to see the elven empire was no exception.

All these revelations are, to some extent, introduced or expanded upon by Solas. So I connect a lot of my love for the lore to him, and as a result I’m fond of him for that reason. I’m going to move on, though, because I’m like 800 words in and I haven’t touched upon him as a person lmao.

This one article that I won’t really touch upon for too long, namely because I couldn’t read it all, compared Solas to a fedora-wearer, which is a characterisation that drives me batty. Because Solas is a SJW, for better or worse. He can very easily identify problems in society, and people, and has no problem talking about them, even when it’s inappropriate.

He cares, he cares deeply. He cares even when it’s against his best interests to care.

If you take him with you through the Hinterlands (and beyond) you’ll find he approves when you help people, even people he might disagree with. Should you deliver a flower to Senna’s grave, and invoke Falon’Din’s name when you inform her widower, he approves. He approves even if he knows the Elvhen gods are false, and knows Falon’Din would not spend a second thinking about this poor man’s dead wife.

He cares when you choose to sacrifice the Chargers, and reinforce to Iron Bull that his worth lies only in the Qun. And if you choose to save them, he cares to reassure Bull that he is not a beast, but a person, and an intelligent one.

And whatever your relationship with him is, by Trespasser he decides he cares enough to save you. Even if he thinks your Inquisitor is so terrible he comes close to comparing them to the evanuris (especially Inquisitors he’s unfriendly to who claim to be chosen) he still decides that the south deserves better than what the qunari will give him. Trespasser was not a smart move for Solas, all things considered. He could have pulled out of the south, or left the Inquisitor to die without explanation. But he explains, because he cares enough to know he owes them that much.

None of this excuses what he plans, but how much he cares in spite of what he feels he must do is compelling.

I think one of the most telling things is the stories Solas can recount for you. When you ask him for stories, he tells you tales of Ostagar, or mighty battles, but the little moments he recounts for you are some of my favourite examples of what Solas finds important in the world. Dwarves seeing daylight for the first time, a qunari baker rebelling in a subtle way only she will know. This guy walks the Fade, and could in theory see every moment in history that people might kill to see, but instead comes across a memory of a woman baking and thinks “this is important.”

Stuff like that is, to me, demonstrative about how much Solas is about the people. He has a lot of growing to do when it comes to his perception of... well, everyone, but despite all of this he still does see wonder in really tiny moments. These are things you don’t often see, especially in jaded immortals, and it’s one of my favourite things about getting to know him.

Speaking of Solas’s perception of the modern world, let’s talk about it. It’s flawed as all heck (especially  at the beginning of the game), but it makes total sense.

Waking up in a world where there’s essentially one less dimension, or perhaps half a dimension where there used to be a whole one? That’s not the sort of thing you just get over. Of the ancient elves we have met, all of them have expressed similar struggles. Abelas doesn’t recognise a Lavellan as Dalish, and Felassan only begins to see them as people towards the end of Masked Empire.

That Solas’s perception (that any of these characters) is able to evolve is impressive, imo.

I’m not saying he deserves to be praised for coming to recognise people as people, in case you’re wondering. What I love here is that Solas, that every ancient elf thus far, is allowed a very real reaction to an impossible situation. And what I love is, for as much as the fandom likes to paint him as stubborn, he is more capable of evolving than people give him credit for.

Of all the things to admit you were wrong about, admitting you were wrong about the entire population of Thedas is a pretty big thing to admit. It’s why I do have hope that Bioware will grant him at least a bittersweet happy ending. It’s clear, especially if you befriend him, he does not enjoy what he feels must be done.

And you may ask “then why do it?” to which I usually reply: the name of ‘traitor’ would suddenly be worthy of him, at least in his eyes, if he just turned his back on those he has worked for literal centuries to uplift. So many people try to convince Solas he’s wrong by... telling him what he’s doing is bad, which. It is, but he knows. Put that energy towards showing him how his rebels can live the life they were supposed to get after the evanuris had been toppled, and then, I think, people would start to make some headway in redeeming him.

Often when protagonists are redeemed it is with an appeal to the heart, and not the head. You appeal to their better nature. With Solas I believe redemption lies not in appealing to his better nature, because in a way he’s already using it. Instead, redemption for Solas will come from showing him that his heart is right, but it is his head that is the problem. Hopefully that makes sense? Show him that his people matter, and can be given their freedom, and then a happy ending may come after.

I could go on and on and on about everything I love about him, but I’m realising this is getting long, so maybe dedicating a mini-essay to every character trait was a mistake. I’m going to throw out a couple more, and try to wrap things up!

I love how angry he gets in banter. I’m someone who gets mad when I argue with people about social issues, especially when I otherwise had/have respect for that person, so hearing Solas get legitimately frustrated when arguing with Iron Bull is very relatable for me. I love that he’s allowed to be angry, and allowed to be right, even while being wrong about so much else.

I love his sense of humour, and his laugh. I love that as much as “Chuckles” is considered to be (even by the game) an ironic nickname, one of the first potential lines from him is him snort-chuckling about Varric being involved with the Chantry (at the first time we hear the nickname Chuckles, I believe).

I love that he loves spirits. I love that no matter what path you choose for Cole, he loves and supports Cole. I love that he understands spirit Cole is as much as a person as human Cole, and both are good and worthy of loving, even if Cole is going down a path he cannot fully relate to himself.

I love his lapses-- be it where he comes out looking something of a fool (setting his pants on fire) or just being a nerd in love on his romance path. He’s smooth, but he stumbles.

There’s so much more I could go into, honestly? His fashion sense, his relationships with each individual member of the Inquisition, the tenderness he is capable of, but I’m pretty sure this is getting too long to be worth reading. I may do a part two sometime (maybe next anniversary??) but for now, I hope everyone who somehow managed to read all of this has a better understanding of why I care so much for Solas, and why I’ve been writing him for four years.

I have no idea how many thousands of words I’ve written for Solas over the past 8,133 posts, but I do know this: I love how there’s still things I haven’t been able to explore in my prose, and I love that you guys will be here to explore them with me!

Thank you everyone who has stuck with my Solas for so long? Even after my mental health issues forced me to take a very long hiatus, I was surprised and touched by how many stuck with me. You’re all wonderful, and I hope you have a nice night!

If you could please refrain from any Solas negativity in comments or tags, I’d appreciate it!

[ivory-spire]

So I felt compelled to add my thoughts to the 5.4 datamine fiasco.  Obviously, spoilers.  I apologize for length.  I didn’t edit this and I let it get away from me, but the core idea is my issue with the recent BIG REVEAL and BWA’s poor track record with consequences.

I’m not even going to touch the ridiculousness that is the traitor’s identity--I agree that it doesn’t make any sense--what I’m becoming progressively more upset about is the knowledge that there will never be any meaningful consequences to this.

I, perhaps naively, am in the camp that thinks Theron is playing triple agent.  One, I like to hope even BWA realizes how monumentally bizarre and awful it would be to take his character and say, “Yeah, btw, even if you romanced him, he apparently still wants to kill you.”  Two, I also like to hope that they recognize that the grandiose verbiage that shows up in the dialogue mines is... not in character?  My first thought upon reading that is that it’ll turn out to be a hint, played so heavily the player will have a concussion when it drops.  (The fact that he gives you a Bond-villain-esque monologue of his intentions, rather than just disabling your character from behind or just killing them.  The fact that he still apparently fails to steal the crystals no matter what, which makes me suspect that the intention was akin to what the LS!Agent can pull on Balmorra.  The fact that, no matter what, he reaches out to you to tell you that he’s doing “what has to be done,” which just leaves me off to the side like, “yeah I didn’t care about the Boss either, so let’s not play this card.”)

But that’s really not the point, just setting the stage for the issue that I’m taking right now--that, when it comes down to it, I suspect BWA is going to reduce this to a binary choice of “FORGIVE THERON (+ KISS IF APPLICABLE)” and “KILL THERON LIKE THE TRAITOR HE IS.”  Maybe they’ll make it a trinary situation with the neutral option being to let him live, but exiling him, but BWA hasn’t liked neutral options lately.

If BWA does decide to take the approach of “had to lie to make the betrayal look genuine,” those kinds of plots have the potential to still be interesting, imo, if the author is willing to consider the psychological implications.  Imagine if someone you love and trust does something awful to you, such as betrays your trust or publicly humiliates you, whatever.  Then they say they did it because someone would do something even worse if they didn’t.  It changes the context you view it from, but it doesn’t erase the fact that it hurt.  And it probably doesn’t change your feelings of betrayal, because rather than come to you to figure out what was going on and maybe figure out a better approach that doesn’t hurt you as deeply, they decided immediately to capitulate and do as they were told.

This is the feeling that I’m applying in this situation.  My “main,” inasmuch as I can be said to have one in swtor, is an inquisitor who romanced Theron, so a lot of this relates to their response to the situation.  And so I keep imagining what would happen if they found out that someone they loved, one of the few people they believed they could wholly trust, just tried to assassinate them.  That fucks a person up.  And my fear is that BWA is going to try and act like that binary decision above is enough to absolve Theron of the fact that, at the end of the day, he decided to go behind your character’s back in order to “authentically” betray them, rather than trust your character enough to involve them in the plans.  It’s shitty enough if your character is just friends with him; it ought to be devastating if they’re in a romance with them.  As I said, the only thing that’s changed in this situation is context, not what he does.

The other frustration I have with this theory is the hypocrisy of it.  In SoR, Theron is justifiably outraged that Lana let him be captured, instead of letting him in on the plan, because she was worried that letting him in on the plan would be given away, and he wouldn’t gain the intel.  In that situation, she demonstrates a disregard for his skills, his safety (lbr, he’s tortured), and, most importantly, his consent.  But in this situation, Theron pulls the same shit on you: you aren’t given a chance to agree to this.  He makes you a key player in his plot (by necessity, but that doesn’t change much), but never offers you the opportunity to refuse.  Like Lana, he disregards your character’s skills (ability to sell the con), safety (even if he made a “haphazard” effort, he still has to make it look ~*legit*~), and, again, consent.

I don’t even want to get in on the idea that Lana might be aware and have conspired with Theron to pull it off.  If that’s the case, I’d argue that Lana is, again, guilty of all of the above--even if she’s not the one playing the betrayer, she still contributes to the overall scheme.

But the issue here, as I said, is consequence.  Even though I took a lot of time to discuss why I felt like it was regressive to Theron’s character to take this route, I could tolerate it if I felt the game would let me have a reasonable response.  But BWA probably won’t let my character feel betrayed.  They’ll let me have some sorrowful lines about Theron’s betrayal initially, but I want dialogue options to reflect the damage this will do to the Outlander’s relationships with Theron (and possibly Lana).  I don’t want a forgiveness/execution binary.  I want the game to recognize that, even if Theron does it ~*FOR YOU AND FOR THE RIGHT REASONS*~ it’s still a betrayal.  Context matters, but it doesn’t nullify hurt.  I get that in the context of an MMO, and one with dwindling funds, it may be hard to delve too deeply into this.  Even just a line or two here and there where your character can say something to the effect of, “I still care for you (romantically/platonically) and I acknowledge your explanation, but what you did was indescribably painful and I don’t know if/when that can be forgiven,” would at least prove that the devs acknowledge that this isn’t a simple matter.

Disclaimer: It has entered my mind that, if the Star Cabal wasn’t wiped out completely, then Theron might be doing this against his will.  If that’s the case, he’s a victim in this and I want BWA to treat this TASTEFULLY.  No Vaylin repeats.  I don’t want my character, a former slave, to be forced to enslave another person in any way again.

Unrelated: Like, not going to lie, the cynical thought that came to mind as soon as I read it is, “Troy Baker demanded a raise, and so BWA has to find a way to limit Theron’s scenes/write him out entirely.”  But like... as much as I think TB’s a great VA and gave Theron a lot of personality, I’d prefer it if they replaced Theron’s VA and just shrugged and said, “What can you do, eh?” than completely destroy a character out of what, if this turns out to be true, in so many ways amounts to spite.

[liaragaming]

I just want to clear some things up about Solas

I’ve seen a lot of comments like, “Why can’t Solas just let the past go?”

And “If Lavellan isn’t enough of a reason to not destroy this world, then what’s the point?”

The short answer is it’s not about the lost empire of the elves, and it’s not about Lavellan.

Put yourself in Solas’ shoes for a second.

We know Arlathan was just about as bad a Tevinter, and the elven gods were a very power hungry (and in some cases blood thirsty) group. Solas seeks to free his people from them by freeing the salves and leading a rebellion against them.

Now, something happened to that rebellion. Something didn’t work out. I have a theory that Mythal played a part in it (and that’s why she and Fen’Harel are depicted together in places), and that’s why the evanuris killed her. Whatever the case, something fell through, and Solas needed a new plan.

(Or they killed Mythal for some other reason and Solas got so pissed he said, “Screw this! New plan!” That works too, I guess.)

So he decides to create the veil and trap the evanuris behind it. Can you imagine the amount of power that required? Solas sleeps for ages after creating the veil and tells the Inquisitor he awoke still weak a year before the events at Haven. He’s so weak he can’t even unlock his own foci.

Holy hell. What kind of magic knocks you out for thousands of years?

And then Solas wakes up, and not only is everything he had hoped to save utterly destroyed but the world is completely changed. He admits to the Inquisitor that the people of Thedas weren’t even people to him at first. It was like walking through a world of tranquil.

Now, we as players have spent years in the world of Thedas. And our natural response is, “Psh, Solas. Get over yourself.” But put yourself in Solas’ shoes and consider that this world of Thedas that we know and love to Solas is more akin to a post-apocalyptic world.

Solas caused the freaking apocalypse.

I would encourage you to imagine the worst post-apocalyptic world you can think of where human beings are still alive but barely making due to the point that you wouldn’t recognize them as people at first. That’s how Solas sees Thedas.

But then Solas spends some time in that world, and gets to meet and know the people, even falls in love with one of them.

That’s the moment that changes everything, and then changes nothing.

Solas realizes he was misguided in his initial judgement of the people of this new world. But it doesn’t change his goal. Because his goal was never about making this world stable to support genuine life again. He just believed it wasn’t stable at all, and that made his goal a lot easier thinking the loss of these strange people wouldn’t amount to anything.

But now he knows it will. He knows ripping down the veil will cause the end of countless lives, and their blood will be on his hands. And it will likely include the blood of the people he cares about, maybe even loves.

It changes everything, but it can’t.

You’d think this would be enough for Solas to revise his plans. But he doesn’t because he can’t. This is stressed over and over again in game.

When you think about it, Solas’ plan really doesn’t make that much sense. How is killing everyone and effectively resetting the world restoring the elves? Because it’s not. Yes, magic will come back, but at worse everyone will be reset to hunter/gatherer status and he’s just hoping after so many eons, the elves will eventually regain the empire.

Which sounds like quite the stretch, to be honest.

On top of that, this extremely thin chance to “restore” the elves will likely end in his death (possibly because tearing down the veil will also require an enormous amount of power and he’s not as strong as he was). He says this in Trespasser to a Lavellan who asks to join him.

That’s a hell of risk for such a slim chance, and then consider that Solas doesn’t even really want to do this. The whole game, he’s all about helping people and approves when you as a player do it. Even in Trespasser, banter from Cole reveals that Solas doesn’t want to hurt anyone (this coming from the spirit who has no qualms killing people who want to kill other people and yet still holds Solas dear).

Why continue down this path if (a) he’ll likely die doing it, (b) it doesn’t really restore what was lost, and ( c) he’s really not that into it?

Because he can’t.

Solas carries a lot of guilt and self-loathing.

This can be easy to overlook if you’re not paying attention and you don’t choose the right dialogue options.

I strongly suggest revisiting Trespasser and listening to the weight of his voice as he talks. Even for a low-approval Inquisitor, you can hear how hard it is for him to explain he’s Fen’Harel. He’s not happy or proud to be back in this role. He liked being just Solas. It was much simpler.

If you choose the “You fought for freedom / I know you’re not evil / My people were wrong” thumbs up option, he’ll reject the notion, saying that he doesn’t deserve the credit.

It’s also worth listening to his explanation of what happened to the elves (as he walks with the Inquisitor over to the ruins). He’s particularly weighty during that part (before you have the chance to ask questions). And he specifically tells you, he destroyed the elves.

After he explains his plan to tear down the veil and destroy the world, if you choose the “truly?” option, the Inquisitor will say that they never thought of Solas as someone who would do such a thing. His composure breaks for a moment and he says a soft, “Thank you.”

He knows what he’s done and what he’s capable of, and he doesn’t like that part of himself. And he doesn’t forgive himself for it either.

Saving Solas from himself

At the end of Trespasser, an Inquisitor set on redeeming Solas vows to “save our friend from himself.” That hit me as odd the first time because I’d gotten so caught up in the revelations and hadn’t explored the “correct” dialogue options to realize what was going on.

“Solas is determined to help the elves, right? Sounds like a pretty solid plan. What’s this save him from himself about?”

tl;dr Solas’ ultimate plan isn’t to restore the elves, but to fix his mistake. Everything Solas fought to save by creating the veil was effectively destroyed by it. The guilt of that weighs on him to the point that he can’t let it go. He will rectify his mistake by tearing the veil down, even if it means his death, even if it doesn’t actually restore the elves, even if everyone he cares about dies along with countless innocents. He is the reason the elves fell, and he cannot live with that on his conscience. He has to try.

Resorting Arlathan isn’t the point.

Finding value in this world isn’t the point.

Falling in love with Lavellan isn’t the point.

His guilt is. And it’s strong enough to take him and the rest of the world down with him.

And that’s why he needs saving from himself.

Bonus - More Guilt!

Didn’t fit above, but worth pointing out:

(1) Solas put up the veil, which took magic from everyone. And then traveling with you, he gets to see first hand the after effects of the Mage Templar War - people driven from their homes, cold and starving; families torn apart; people killing each other over fear and hatred.

I have no doubt the irony isn’t lost on Solas that this war never would have happened if the veil hadn’t been created and made magic scarce enough for people to fear it.

(2) Lavellan romance. Solas states repeatedly that his interest in the relationship is “selfish.” He says he’s “furious” with himself after breaking the relationship off. And at least once he tells her she deserves better (special mention goes to the “I’m not giving up on you” break up option where his response is “you truly should”). And even though he refuses to discuss it, that’s still weighing on him to the point that he feels he has to give her some kind of an explanation at the end game before he disappears. I’m not even going to get into how it’s still weighing on him in Trespasser.

(3) Mythal. He killed his best friend. I mean, damn. Not to mention, it’s the very act he doomed the evanuris to an eternity of punishment for and believed they - and now himself - deserve. Double damn.

(4) Solas’ biggest fear is of dying alone. He knows the path he walks is hard, that his choices create enemies. He expects to be alone at the end, with no one to mourn him.

(5) Let’s face it, there’s probably lots more, including stuff we don’t know about.

Do people realize the amount of guilt this guy is carrying around? Is this starting to make sense now? AM I SCREAMING INTO THE ABYSS?!?!

Believe it or not, I told myself this morning I was NOT going to write an essay on what’s going on inside Solas’ head.

EDITS:

(6) Thanks to @bearlytolerable​ for pointing this out, but freaking spirits! They used to exist in conjunction with reality. And now, with the creation of the veil, the shock of passing into reality is enough to turn many of them into demons. Solas’ responsibility for this isn’t lost on him.