#fen'harel's teeth

[5lazarus]

Work in Progress Wednesday

“Surely you don’t think the gods are coming back,” Imladris says, nonplussed. “I didn’t see Fen’Harel in the Fade.”

Briala says, “Isn’t that the story, that He trapped them in slumber, waiting in the Fade? Well, the barriers between the waking and the dreaming are broken now. The dead have been rising. Why not the gods?”

“Because the gods are dead,” Imladris says furiously. “If they ever existed. If they ever cared. I cannot imagine the degradation of our history, Briala, if the gods were real. Who would let this happen to us? They were legends, nothing more. Perhaps there was some historical antecedent, folk heroes who became cast as divine after—why are you here? If you wanted to argue theology, you could’ve just sent in an essay.”

“I have better things to do than write for your little magazine,” Briala says. “But you have made my point nicely. Something existed, to make the legend. The religion. And whatever was does not seem to have cared too much about what happened to their people.” She leans forward and fixes Imladris with a stare. Imladris tenses. “I believe the gods existed and I believe they were not kind. I have seen the ruins of Elvhenan, Immo’.” Imladris looks down. She hasn’t heard that name since Val Royeaux. “It was a caste-based slave society. I cannot believe the gods in charge of that were good to us. And if they are waking, as I believe there are—well.” Briala settles back in the rickety chair, which creaks dangerously but does not break. “That does not herald well.”

Imladris digests the pun. “Do you have any evidence?”

Briala says, “I met an ancient elf who called himself Slow Arrow in the old tongue, who told a the Forbidden One called Imshael ‘something big is coming’ to convince him to let myself and Mihris go. Something bigger than the Orlesian civil war. You’re not the only one who has been walking into legends, lethallin. The Forbidden One possessed Mihris. She saw something. And it is time to prepare.”

Imladris says, “For what?”

“The end of this world, of course. Do you think what’s coming is good? Is better than where we are now? I want the Dales, Imladris Ashallin. I want Elvhenan for our people. And I want it without the gods.” Briala gestures. “Lindiranae and the Emerald Knights thought the gods would save them, and we ended up little better than slaves again.”

Imladris, a bit shocked, laughs. “What are you asking of me? I can’t fight legends.”

“Except you are,” Briala says. “After you kill Corypheus, one would-be god, what’s a whole pantheon?” She rises and smirks down at her. Imladris, realizing she’s gaping, hurriedly fixes her face and glares. “Think about it. It would do us all some good, if you used your position for the people.” She picks up the tray still sitting on the table and offers it to Imladris. Mechanically she takes it. “You should eat before your food gets cold. When you’re in the Graves, do give Fairbanks my regards.”

Briala leaves quietly, head bowed and movements small and quick like a servant. Imladris hears the ugly sound of cutlery clattering against stoneware and looks down. She’s shaking so violently she is spilling her soup: a waste, she thinks, and mechanically begins to eat.

[corseque]

(video) Every time Fen'Harel/the Dread Wolf is mentioned in DA:O

I learned how to search the talktable in DA:O, and immediately found out (by searching for "Fen'Harel" and "Dread Wolf") that there are a few lines that have to do with Fen'Harel that I had not heard before. I searched the internet and some of the lines don't even appear on google. Many of them are soundset lines, meaning (I think) they don't fire unless the character is in your party or unless you're fighting them.

"May Fen'Harel chase your spirit across the Beyond forever!" "Fen'Harel's teeth!" (+1 line unrecorded) "Fen'Harel take you!" "By Fen'Harel!" "Don't let the Dread Wolf catch you!" "May you avoid the eye of the Dread Wolf."

[biowhore]

Shrike

Solavellan angst, ~3100 words (i think that's the longest one i've done so far!)

Excerpt:

"You chase a dead dream, Fen'Harel," she murmured, closing her weary eyes, "If you'd only wake, you might see the world for what it is now. Appreciate what it has become." "Please, not that name. Not from you." She heard snow crunching underfoot. She felt cold fingers against her cheek. Her heart lurched in her burdened chest, but she refused to open her eyes. "I saw you," he spoke softly, with a longing sort of affection, struggling to stay distant, "And I see you now. Stretching yourself thin, exhausted to your very bones, putting yourself at great risk."

It was always Haven.

Her dreams always took her back there, back to when it was all brand new and she and her friends had no idea what they were doing. Every decision was a guess, a leap of faith, a shaky gamble. But she had loved it. Had loved getting to know everyone, had loved being a source of hope, even if she had little of it herself. She had been held together by wit and snow, getting away with being Herald by the skin of her teeth.

When she dreamed, Haven was empty. There was no birdsong, no chatter, no clank of armor. No footprints, except those of a large wolf, and not always present. She followed them when they appeared in the snow, but they always faded, as if the wolf simply ceased to exist.

The Chantry was hollow, and the wind sang through its bones in a way that almost felt real. Over the years she had wandered through every inch of it slowly, savoring each snowflake, each supply barrel, each speck of dust. All of it was so detailed, but ever so slightly off. As if one were looking though warped glass.

Tonight, she was more exhausted than usual, with her work over the last 9 years expected to be coming to a head very soon. Rather than wander, she sat wearily on part of the stone half-wall that surrounded the chantry and stared up at the memory of the Breach.

Her stump tingled. Strangely, despite returning to Haven as it had been, her arm never returned to what it was. She supposed dreams couldn't give one everything, but a little reprieve from the phantom limb would have been nice. It itched more intensely here. Her right hand closed around the stump, squeezing in a pattern, trying to remind her body yet again of its new form. Malloria sighed, closed her eyes, and listened to the false wind.

With her eyes closed, she felt the snowflakes speckle her dark skin, leaving brief pinpricks of icy cold on her warm face. At times, she reveled in the silence and peace here, and at others she mourned. Tonight, with how tired she was, she was grateful for the somewhat eerie simplicity of the place.

As it often did while she was here, her mind remembered quick flashes of an easy conversation, of surprised kisses, and hands grabbing for more. Her memories were of her senses; the taste of his lips, the timbre of his voice, the feel of his tunic between her fingers, the smell of his skin, and the color of his eyes.

Her face still upturned, and her eyes still closed, her pointed ears flickered at the sound of snow being compacted underfoot. Under four feet, to be exact. Other than the footprints, she had encountered no other sign of this wolf until now. Too tired to hunt, she hoped it might settle for a chat.

She listened to it, turning her head to follow the sound, but it seemed to trickle in from all around her. Pat pat pat, it barely made any sound in the snow, but the hollow and contradictory nature of this version of Haven had anything other than the wind amplified by magnitudes.

"I hope to skip a long line of questioning and ask you directly why you only show yourself now, Hunter," Malloria called out.

There came no answer. She didn't know what she expected. She sighed when the sounds of the wolf trampling the snow morphed into growls that filtered in from all directions, bouncing off the stone of the Chantry and echoing into the ether.

"You're doing to make me get up, aren't you."

The growling faded, as did the sound of the wolf's feet. Suddenly Haven was silent. The false wind had even ceased.

Malloria briefly closed her eyes, steeling herself. When she opened them, the wolf stood directly in her line of sight, perhaps 30 feet away. It was massive and many-eyed, pelt as dark as the night and producing a faint smoke. The eyes did not blink and were of no color. It stood unnervingly still, those many unblinking eyes locked onto her.

She stood, realizing she could feel her heartbeat in her pointed ears. Her hand tensed, preparing to pull for a magical blade.

"Well, Beast?" she asked, low and calm. There was no point in trying to attack it immediately. She wasn't even sure what it was. Its wolf form was dredging up feelings she would rather not address, especially with how tired she was. She needed to focus. If she couldn't do that, she needed to wake up, but her head was starting to feel like it was swimming.

The only reaction she received was that the wolf began walking a wide perimeter around her. The giant paws padded a slow, deliberate rhythm, its head swiveling to keep its monstrous eyes focused upon her. It taunted her openly, trying to intimidate her to run as if she were an anxious doe.

Except Malloria did not run. Not anymore.

She reached into the Fade for a blade to defend herself. Her feet planted into the stone and snow, her whole body tensing in anticipation. The blade came so easily here, in her dreams. It shone like bright cold flame, energy crackling away from it in frenzy. She held it low, as a warning that she was prepared but would allow the creature to leave if it finally thought better of it. The wolf paced behind her now, slowly coming around to her right periphery and her weapon. Her fingers gripped the hilt of the sword like a lifeline – her instincts screaming at her so loudly it was affecting her focus. Her heart raced, her blood ran cold, and her breath quickened to quiet, shallow, pants. She had a terrible feeling about this.

It finally entered her peripheral vision again, dumbfoundedly choosing not to attack within her blind spots. Her ears picked up a sizzling sound as it continued its circuit – acidic saliva was dripping into the snow from its maw, poison steam rising in small tendrils from the ground as it walked. A growl grew within its chest anew, as if it were agitated by something. It continued walking, its eyes still focused on her.

The beast halted in front of her, back at the beginning, hackles raised high, and grinned at her with all its poisoned teeth, "May the Dread Wolf take you." It cursed her with a voice of tumbling stone, bouncing through the Fade like a nightmare.

With an echoing cackle, its body melted and disintegrated into a smoky, ashy, pool, the mess evaporating slowly into the ether of the Fade.

Malloria disengaged, confused, dismissing her sword and flexing her fingers. She blinked slowly at the darkened snow where the thing had been. Her instincts were screaming at her again, that she knew what it was, but her mind fought it. It couldn’t be… she was too strong for that. And then a slow awareness prickled up her spine, spreading across her shoulders as they tensed. Malloria turned slowly, stiffly.

The Dread Wolf was there, standing calmly in the middle of the yard. She surveyed him from feet to ears - he wore the same wolf pelt as last they met, but he had exchanged armor for robes of a dark material she could not name. There were gold embellishments throughout, and a rather important looking dagger secured at his hip. His posture was deceptively guarded, his hands behind his back, as always, but shoulders lax and stance casual. She arrived at his face, and it too was lined in deceit. Feigning calm and collectedness - disinterest, even - but his eyes told her his sorrow, his regret.

Her mind viewed the Dread Wolf as an enemy. She didn't recognize this person, but she saw Solas's eyes. She would always know them, no matter their form.

Malloria blinked, and her Solas stood before her. The dagger and pelt remained, but he now wore the same humble hedge mage robes as when they first met. He bore no other weapons, only himself.

"Hello, Inquisitor," he greeted. He sounded so formal, so foreign. He briefly looked down at himself, keeping his hands behind his back, "Remembering me as I was?"

"Some version of you, anyway. Whatever that may be," it was hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice, "You could have changed yourself to suit me better, for all I know."

"This is your dream. You have... most… of the power here." He spoke carefully.

"If that is true then how are you even here?"

"I said most, not all. And you are weakened, as evidenced by the demon that sought to take you over.”

"Ah. Demon..." She knew her instincts had been right. Her guard was down, and a demon had walked right in. She wondered if it had been scouting her all this time, stalking her, leaving its footprints in the snow as some sort of taunt. All the endless work she had been doing over the years was catching up to her. Little rest, little time for contemplation, as she liked it. It wasn’t safe. She had to shove down the shock that was threatening to overtake her with this realization. Focus. She needed to focus. The Dread Wolf was here.

Malloria slowly looked Solas over, from the placid expression on his face, to his casual stance, and back up again. Stopping at his eyes, she asked, "Did you come here just for that? Just to drive it off?"

"Did I enter your dream just to save you?" he asked softly. His gaze fell to the ground, his head turning to the side. "Yes, I did." He turned to face the Breach, giving her his back. His right hand clasped his left wrist behind his back, still so formal after that confession. For a several moments he said nothing, and Malloria allowed it. She couldn’t bring herself to ask the questions. She didn’t think she wanted to know the answers.

"Why Haven, with the Breach?" he asked, almost casually.

Now it was her turn to pause. To stare at the blasted thing that started them all down this cursed journey.

"Hope," she finally said. Back when it was brightest. Back when there was only one problem to solve, and she was the one who could do it. Her dreams used to be more exciting or fantastical. Faraway lands, distant pasts, incredible adventures. Now, she just wanted peace, even if only for a moment. She hadn't been one for hope at the time. More inclined toward a dark sense of humor. Inside, she had always clung to it though, the thought that she could be something, do something, so much greater than herself. That was what she was supposed to believe, anyway.

He turned his head toward her, then slowly faced her, taking her in again anew, "You've changed."

"People do that, Solas." She took slow steps toward him, circling him and coming to stand at his front. Closer, but not too close. Her hand brushed the pelt mantle just slightly as she passed him; she was amazed at how real it felt, "Change is the nature of the world."

"It didn't use to be."

"So you've said. But it's been many, many ages since your time. Since your people's time.

"Our people."

"My people are not yours," she said with all the conviction of the Inquisitor, the Herald. "You don't even recognize them."

"That is why-" he cut himself off, shaking his head, "You know my path. I will not stray from it. I've done what I came here to do, there is no reason to stay and continue a pointless argument."

"Are you just keeping me alive for some machination of yours?"

He looked at her again and actually appeared wounded, his eyebrows drawn in, his jaw clenched.

"If only I were so detached from you."

If only she could believe that. Malloria sighed with all the weight of over 10 years of separation, of never truly understanding why. And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Even now she didn't understand. Why? Why? Why had she not been enough? Had she ever been?

"You chase a dead dream, Fen'Harel," she murmured, closing her weary eyes, "If you'd only wake, you might see the world for what it is now. Appreciate what it has become."

"Please, not that name. Not from you."

She heard snow crunching underfoot. She felt cold fingers against her cheek. Her heart lurched in her burdened chest, but she refused to open her eyes.

"I saw you," he spoke softly, with a longing sort of affection, struggling to stay distant, "And I see you now. Stretching yourself thin, exhausted to your very bones, putting yourself at great risk."

His thumb brushed across the high arch of her cheekbone, where part of her vallaslin had been, and she lost her battle against looking at him. Her eyes fluttered open and flooded with his gaze. She felt his intake of breath when she looked at him, obviously as affected by her as she was of him. There was nothing she could say that she had not already said. He would not come home, he would not stop. She had to be the one to stop him. She had to stand against him. She had to build a network. She had to move, and scheme, and toil, and work and work and work... She was tired. But he would not come home.

“Do you know what it was?” she asked, trying weakly to steer the conversation away from the vast void between them.

Solas sighed, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers. “It is a more complex demon… attracted to and influenced by your mind.” Again his thumb ran across her cheekbone, as if to emphasize the point, “But, you know this.”

Did she? Did she truly understand the depth and gravity of her inner emotions? Or had she been shoving them away into a dark corner of her mind, focusing only on what lay in front of her.

Solas’s eyes bore into her, looking at her like he could read everything about her that she wanted to ignore. See all the hard parts of her that she tried to file down into softness. He saw the raw heart beyond the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste. He saw Malloria, and she wished he did not.

Her jaw ached with a rising wave of acceptance. That she had opened the door for this spirit and let it through, to become the thing she couldn’t acknowledge in herself.

“Duty.” Solas named it softly, “Resentment.”

She closed her eyes with the weight of it given life through his words. It was true. She was no longer Malloria, she was a symbol. An idea. She could not hide from it no matter how she longed to. She would chase Solas across Thedas to keep her world alive, and she would forever resent the events that started her on this path.

“I’m so tired, Solas.”

“I know.”

Malloria stared into his eyes, her hand coming up to his own cheek, her bare fingertips roving over the cold skin. His face had begun to blur in her mind over the years, but she always knew the shape and colors of his eyes. Sometimes stormy, melancholic blue, sometimes sensual, prideful purple. But always the same, always Solas.

"Aren't you as well?" she whispered after a moment, "Are you not weary?"

"As I have ever been, ma vhenan."

“And yet…”

“And yet,” he acknowledged. And yet he would continue. And yet she would chase him. And yet they would go on and on in this game of cat and mouse, until the bitter end, whatever shape that took.

Malloria’s composure chipped, her face crumpling briefly with the power of her sorrow threatening to overtake her. Small tears built in the corners of her eyes and she attempted to blink them away.

“Ir abelas, vhenan.” Solas whispered, brushing his thumb under her eye, anticipating the tear that fell there.

 She nodded, trying and failing to say the words without choking, more tears spilling onto her cheeks, “Ir abelas, ma vhenan.”

Solas’s other hand came up to her face and pulled her forward, bridging the small gap between them. The kiss was just as she remembered them, but laced with salt from her tears, and the bitterness of his regret. Their lips still danced together as she remembered, brushing softly, then taking great sips of each other, trying to communicate the incommunicable, trying to take from one another, trying to give to one another what they each thought they needed. His hands fell away from her face and his arms came around her, as if his body would not accept leaving without her. For the moment of their kiss, their souls tangled together and cried out, attempting to fight a fate neither of their hearts would abandon.

They parted slowly, foreheads touching, bodies pressed together, reluctant to return to their respective paths. Solas marching forward and she trailing behind, as a hunter, trying to head him off. For this impossibly small window of time, they could exist outside of those roles they had built for themselves.

Malloira tried to catch her breath, but she felt her heart breaking all over again. She could see nothing but him; not her plans, not her friends, not her life. Only him. She thought she might perish the moment she had to be thrust back into reality. And she knew he knew what she was thinking. How she did didn’t think she could let him go again, even in the Fade. She couldn’t end this, but he could. He could always do the hard things.

"You used tongue again," she whispered onto his lips.

The faintest, lightest little bemused laugh on his lips, a smile, then the echo of his voice as he commanded her, "Wake up."

Malloria sat up straight in her bed, her breaths short and shallow, her heart racing in her chest, her stump on fire. Cold sweat ran in rivulets down her back as her mind caught up with her body. She gripped her stump with her hand, trying to massage it, trying to distract herself from the incessant pain. Her room was dark and cold, as empty as it had ever been.

She still tasted him on her tongue, and somehow, she knew it would be the last piece of him she would ever have.

[broodwolf221]

fic rec list!

been seeing a lot of these today and it got me thinking about making my own :o tumblr urls added whenever possible if you happen to know an author's tumblr url that didn't get listed, pls rb this and @ them! i'm not trying to keep my recs or praise any kind of secret from them :')

keep your hands on me by LathboraViran (cullen/solas; rated E; no archive warnings apply)

author summary: Cullen is bad at card games, and Varric doesn't always play for coin. The cost of a lost game of Diamondback? Cullen has to kiss Solas. It goes both better and worse than he had expected.

my notes: i really loved this - both cullen and solas are written incredibly well. it's hot, nuanced, and feels so true to both of them and how they could come together meaningfully

With the Tide by desiredemon (jazzmckay) ( @jazzmckay ) (fenris/m!hawke; rated T; no archive warnings apply)

author summary: In the wake of their final fight for Kirkwall, Hawke and his friends escape the city together. They've been through an ordeal, the future is uncertain, and emotions are still running high--in the aftermath, the dust settles.

my notes: jazz is an extraordinary writer and they managed to get everyone's voices down so, so well. this is a compelling look at what happens after the events of da2, with all the inherent complexity intact

Power, Intrigue, Danger, and Sex by Hezjena (andruil/fen'harel/ghilan'nain; rated E; no archive warnings apply)

author summary: When Solas later recalled the evening, he liked to imagine it was the result of careful manipulation, a triumph of his skilled diplomacy and a delicious trickery where he allowed himself to be underestimated… rather than the result of too much ice wine and morbid curiosity. *** That time Solas accidentally-on-purpose has a threesome with Andruil and Ghilan’nain in Ancient Elvhenan.

my notes: okay, i am head over heels with how everyone is written here. solas' characterization is perfect, and both andruil and ghilan'nain are utterly fascinating - as individuals, in their dynamic with each other, and in the way they interact with solas in this. it's hot and messy, mind the tags, and a wonderful examination of arlathan's culture

let me wrap my teeth around the world by wizardlover ( @wizardfvcker ) (solas/varric; rated E; no archive warnings apply)

author summary: “Aren’t we friends, Solas?”

This seems to startle him enough that he turns to look at Varric. In the dimness of the tent his eyes reflect the light from the fire outside, like a wild animal.

“I would call us that, yes."

“Then won’t you share whatever burden is pressing you down with me? That’s what friends are for, you know.”

“Not this one." Varric sighs.

“Come on, Chuckles. I’ll get back out there and get the Inquisitor to spill it, but it seems like a waste when I’m already here.”

Solas is quiet for a long moment—he has shifted around again, so Varric can only see the rise and fall of his back as he breathes, carefully controlled.

“I am… compromised,” he says. Varric waits. “That damned plant, combined with an errant spell—I have… urges. And I can’t—it is—” He cuts himself off, frustrated, and isn’t that a wonder, Solas out of words? And then,

“Urges?” Varric stifles a laugh. “Do you mean—”

“You know what I mean, dwarf,” Solas hisses, and Varric realizes that his neck is red and the tips of his ears have gone pink, and that the air in the tent is warm and stuffy and a little heady, all of a sudden. He clears his throat.

my notes: i am, of course, always so thirsty for solas/varric content - the world needs more of it - but also this particular fic is delightful. i love the writing, particularly the way varric describes solas' behavior and staring - i've come back to read this multiple times because it's just... really, really good. also hot!

The Switch by playwithdinos ( @playwithdinos / @dinoswrites ) (f!lavellan/solas; rated E; creator chose not to use archive warnings)

author summary: Lavellan usually lets Solas take charge when they're alone, but she's back from slaying the Fereldan Frostback and she's not in the mood to bow to anyone.

Fill for this kink meme prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13696.html?thread=53207680

my notes: love this one soooo much - lavellan is fascinating here and the way she takes charge is delightful, i particularly enjoyed how it began so much earlier than in the bedroom - and solas is written so well, love his characterization here. it's very hot and another i've definitely come back to

That Time of the Month by bluebeholder ( @wanderingnork ) (f!adaar/solas; rated E; no archive warnings apply)

author summary: Kubide gets her period. Solas offers a suggestion for how they might have some fun.

They're going to have to burn the sheets when they're done.

my notes: love this one so much - every line is just rife with characterization and depth, absolutely love the way kubide conducts herself and her reactions throughout, the physical descriptions are wonderfully done, and overall it's super hot and makes their feelings for each other incredibly clear.

In the Blue Morning by rosieofcorona ( @rosieofcorona ) (f!lavellan/solas; rated G; author chose not to use archive warnings)

author summary: He wants to stay like this forever, wants the sun to forget to rise, wants the castle to sleep and sleep in an endless dream.

But the light keeps coming, every moment. The castle will wake, and they will see.

And this will cost them, in the end.

my notes: this was such a delight when i first read it, and still such a delight when i just reread it now ;o; the way everything is described is really beautiful, and the balance between them, the juicy foreshadowing, everything, it's so good. a soft moment that acknowledges what is to come

Master and Apprentice by ar_lath_vhenan ( @arlathvhenan ) (f!lavellan/solas; rated T; no archive warnings apply)

author summary: He was playing with her then, just as she had played with him only moments ago. He’d seen through her thinly veiled flirtations—her shameless assault on his composure—and finally settled on a counter offensive now that he possessed the upper hand. The tricky bastard. — In which Solas teaches Lavellan to paint

my notes: i really, really enjoy this fic - the intimacy alongside the uncertainty is wonderfully complex, and the descriptive language for how they manuever around/with each other has never failed to impress me. love this lavellan too <3

[starfoam]

Flashback, what was clan life like before the whole breach problem

"Lumi, you're meant to be minding the children!"

"I am!" The aravels had stopped to settle for a few days, and the children were having a wonderful time in the new spot. This stretch of forest was lush with thick green trees for climbing and hiding, and being so far from cities meant they had a chance to play uninterrupted before the clan moved on.

This, of course, meant that Luminous had to keep them from straying too far from camp. Her own sister she wasn't too worried about - Kiana was highly protective of camp at a precious ten years old, and unlikely to stray - but Anariel's twins had just learned to climb trees, but had not figured out how to climb down.

Hence Luminous's situation now, slowly scaling the tree they had climbed together. "Marwen, can you please stand down here and be ready to catch them?"

"Catch them?" Luminous heard a small curse, and smiled to herself. The clan's First was a skilled mage, but she was Lumi's friend first, and Luminous knew Marwen would catch them once she was up there.

Up above, dual voices giggled. Lumi hoisted herself onto a branch.

"Come on, you two, it's not safe up here."

"We're hiding from Fen'Harel!" the oldest said, holding his brother and laughing.

"He can't gobble us up when we're up here!" Lumi shook her head, and reached out a hand.

"Fen'Harel is somewhere far, far away, probably still laughing his teeth out from sealing away the gods. He's not going to gobble you up." She pulled herself onto her knees. 'Come on, the First is down below waiting to catch you so you can go play with the others. Are you ready?"

Each clan could only have three mages, and Marwen was good - so was Lumi. She tossed the first twin onto a cloud of compressed air, and Marwen pulled it down, taking the first of the giggling children to her level. A minute later, the second followed, and Marwen looked up.

"And what about you? Need a lift?"

"...I got it," Lumi said, and Marwen laughed.

Luminous was also terrible at climbing down trees.

She'd be a minute.

[thebookworm0001]

DA-Day Self-Promo

Come get your dragon age fics here! It's primarily solavellan - come get your heart broken or read something so sweet it rots your teeth. take your pick! descriptions and links below the cut.

small moments. chapter-based one-shot type things with varying moods:

so wretched, so precious Rating: G Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas

Summary: A collection of one-shots exploring moments both big and small during Ellana Lavellan's tenure as Inquisitor.

Links: AO3

Banter Rating: G Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas

General Summary: Character banter between Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan and her companions.

Links: AO3

small moments, now with art:

Stolen Moments Rating: G Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas

Summary: Ellana and Solas steal a moment alone. Alt. solavellan did not get a repeatable kiss scene and I'm fixing that.

Links: Tumblr | AO3

would you like to break your hearty? do you want to sob while reading smut? here you go:

Last Chance Rating: E Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas

Summary: After years of work fighting against Fen'harel and his agents, the final battle between former Inquisitor Lavellan and the man she loves is only one night away.

Links: Tumblr | AO3

In the Morning Rating: G Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas

Summary: When Solas wakes, it is to the sound of her breath. Alt. pov of the end of Last Chance.

Links: Tumblr | AO3

Would you like to get your heart fixed while reading smut? this one's for you:

Laundry Day Rating: E Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas

Summary: After the Dread Wolf's defeat at the hands of the former Inquisitor, his punishment is far more lenient than many were anticipating. House arrest, under the supervision of the Herald of Andraste herself. As Ellana and Solas settle into their new lives, neither has forgotten the events just before their final confrontation, and, caught in close quarters, old feelings begin to resurface. Follow-up to Last Chance

Links: Tumblr | AO3

they're gay. it's a gift. enjoy:

Modeling Expectations Rating: E Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Eludysia Lavellan

Summary: Since taking a body, Ellana has come to rely on Eludysia to help her navigate the waking world and its new experiences, but one inquiry leads to a more hands-on demonstration than she expected. Ancient Elvhenan AU.

Links: Tumblr | AO3

this section is called 'i technically write for other pairings beside solavellan':

A Brief Pause Rating: G Pairing: Solona Amell x Alistair

Summary: A quiet moment between Solona and Alistair after the events of Awakening.

Links: Tumblr | AO3

[tangledfate]

@felthubris​ asked:  " i want you. " (Fiore)

Fiore hates that his words feel electric. A visceral reaction as they're murmured into her ear before his teeth find it's shell. It's not really the rotunda, it's not really his desk--is it really him? The encounter in the statue garden had been but a handful of hours ago, was this just her imagination giving her what she wanted.

She reaches for him with her missing arm before she's reminded of it's absence. Reminded of the imbalance in their power dynamic and there's an angry burn that settles into the pit of her stomach. She wants this too much to tell him to leave her--if it even is him--but she's not going to let him have his way either.

Pushing him back just a little, she steps out from where he has her pinned to his desk. Switching their places and shoving him onto the desk before clambering above him; knees holding the majority of her weight as her only hand grips his shoulder. Then she puts her weight into it, grinding down on him so that there's no question of where this is going to go.

"Then take me...Fen'harel..." It's a challenge--a dare--to dispense with false pretenses and give them both what they clearly need. An open path to catharsis.

[w-h-4-t]

Today was just one of those days

where I needed to draw idiot child

3 things happened there: she needs to sneeze, she just woke up, she needs to brush her hair, all at once ALL AT ONCE

She is very long. Like a Great Dane.

[ladyofc]

The Dread Wolf is just a stupid fursona, all the gods in the stupid elvhen pantheon have fursonas. "This is my fursona The Dread Wolf also known as Fen'harel, he has 6 glowing eyes, razor teeth with an all black coat. He is devotedly loyal to Flemeth's fursona Mythal who's a dragon"

[5lazarus]

WIP Wednesday

The biggest scene is done, now for a moment of respite before getting back into the meat of the plot.

He looks up, hood falling back, at the monumental shrouded figure, its hand stretched toward them, and he reaches out as if he could touch it. Imladris walks to him, and Solas glances at her briefly and explains, “Time has worn his face away. What do your people call him, now?” His tone is wistful.

Imladris says, “The Watcher. No one knows who it was supposed to represent; the style indicates it predates the Dalish kingdom, but the ears show it must be elvhen. I always guessed it was Dirthamen—when we return to the Plains, I’ll show you the monument if we have time, it’s of a similar style—”

Solas regards the statue, smiling ruefully. “These forests have changed much since I was last here.” He takes her hand and squeezes it. “If we have time, I’d like to see it.”

[gaysebastianvael]

(cw: solas critical)

The anger boiled over.

Somhairle thought he'd come to terms with this unfortunate fate. Tied what ends he could and said his goodbyes. To come all this way, through traps and riddles, the Fade gnawing on him from the inside out. For Solas to hold his arm without asking, touch soft as a friend's, and wipe away the weapon he'd created with a wave of his hand. Effortless. Painless.

It hadn't been Somhairle's choice to die from the Anchor. It hadn't been his choice to survive it, either. No, all along he'd been a means to an end. A necessary sacrifice, fluttering about aimlessly while Solas stood beside him. Watching, silent, playing a part.

Solas couldn't even do his own dirty work, it seemed. Lying, however. Somhairle listened, fuming, while he recalled a past that never existed about a people he refused to see on equal footing. A people he talked down to and expected to be thanked. Spoke as Somhairle suffered, the pain in his arm unbearable, until he felt it convenient to intervene. Cradling his injured hand like a hahren while Somhairle's other reached for the hilt at his hip. Their faces so close, they had been close, and now strangers.

"Fen'harel or not," Somhairle said through gritted teeth. "You know better than to trick me."

With a deep breath, he plunged the knife into Solas's gut.

His escape was a blur. From adrenaline, from fatigue, from fear, he couldn't be sure. All he remembered was running through the maze of Eluvians, clutching his magic scarred and aching arm. Breaths growing heavier and heavier as clouds began to grip his mind. He wanted to believe he'd expertly dodged being turned to stone. If not that, then like so many times over the last few years, had been extremely lucky. After this, after everything, he wouldn't know how to feel if Solas had simply let him leave.

He crashed through the final Eluvian so suddenly, he thought it might break.

Sitting on the floor, eyes shining and black streaks running down his face, Dorian jumped. He stared speechless, vision adjusting in the bright glow. Then he was on his feet, closing the distance, trembling hands cupping Somhairle's cheeks. So gently, as if he were a dream that could shatter with the touch. Somhairle felt his own tears welling up and spilling over. To return to his love was like coming home.

"See, what did I tell you?" Dorian's voice cracked. "You always come back to me."

The Eluvian's light faded and he pulled Somhairle into his arms. In the dark, Dorian kissed him. His forehead, his nose, his cheeks, wherever his lips landed. Somhairle clung to him with all his remaining strength, leaning against him, melting in his warmth. Exhaustion brought his knees to the floor. Dorian followed.

"It's alright, vhenan, I'm here now," he said softly as Dorian sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm right here with you."

[dreadfutures]

“Reading a book together” for whoever you like!

For @dadrunkwriting !

Rating: G

Pairing: Ixchel Lavellan & Solas (#broken mirrors)

Words: 508

Ixchel and Solas hiding out somewhere in rural Orlais. Reference to @5lazarus | @hes5thlazarus's Fen'Harel's Teeth because I adore their fic. And the aphorisms are from Poor Richard's Almanac by Benjamin Franklin!

-:-:-

"Ixchel."

Her head snapped around to face Solas, who was not looking at her. He had spoken in such a hushed tone that she would not have heard it, if she had not been listening so attentively at the shuttered window for any sign of an intruder outside.

"Stop pacing."

She stared at him with narrowed eyes.

He raised one hand, apparently confident of her attention, and beckoned her closer. She begrudgingly obeyed and lowered herself silently onto the moldering mattress beside him.

"What are you reading?" she asked under her breath.

"The local almanac," he replied. "I have found them to be worthwhile, if only for the insights they provide into the region's psyche. Have you ever read one?"

Ixchel shook her head. Reading had been difficult for her in the first several years of the Inquisition, and by the time she had grown proficient, most of the material that crossed her path were reports, manifestos, and correspondence and diaries useful only for the secrets they contained. None of them were particularly entertaining diversions.

"They collect the calendar, weather predictions for the coming season and comparisons to previous records, celestial information, and even poems and witticisms and wisdom," Solas explained softly. "This one contains a particular bounty of proverbs."

Solas put his arm around her shoulders and settled the little booklet in his lap, his right hand splayed across the page, pointer finger directing her attention to a specific paragraph.

"'Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead,'" Solas read aloud, and Ixchel snorted.

"Must be an Orlesian."

"Perhaps," Solas said with a chuckle. "It says something about the writer, the publishing house, and the mood of the locals with regard to what's happening to their country. I read one published before the Conclave that said, in a margin: 'The way to see by faith is to shut the eye of reason.' An interesting inclusion, in the face of roaming bands of Templars. It is not a manifesto by any means, nor an expression of solidarity or sympathy—it was simply an anonymous aphorism given to the population of a small Orlesian backwater."

"Are they anonymous to the locals?" Ixchel wondered. "To own a printing press and source all this academic information—"

"It is not necessarily academic, to write down the oral history of the regions harvests." Solas shrugged his shoulder, lifting Ixchel slightly before settling back and resting his cheek on her hair. "Not all are printed so professionally. And you would be surprised how easy it can be to hide a small printing press in a basement."

A long, soft breath escaped him, and she felt his smile against her hair. "There is a woman in Val Royeaux's alienage who publishes a revolutionary magazine called 'Fen'Harel's Teeth.' She and her writers are some of Orlais' most wanted dissidents, but have yet to be found."

Ixchel raised an eyebrow and reached to turn the page of the almanac in his lap.

"No relation, I trust."

"No," he admitted. "But I am honored nonetheless."

[virlath]

Dark Fortress #1-#3 (but this is really just a red lyrium/idol theory post)

I had A LOT of thoughts reading the latest Dragon Age comics. There were just so many interesting lore tidbits in there that made me wonder about other things and.... I just had to write it all down somewhere.

Warning: full spoilers for Dark Fortress 1-3 plus all other associated Dragon Age material below.

Also, this post is long. 🍿

A quick summary

In Dark Fortress, we learn that the Venatori have been using the red lyrium idol to create red lyrium infused weapons.

The Venatori don't yet know the full extent of red lyrium's power, but they want to experiment with this weapon to turn Shirallas into a red wraith- a process similar to what happened to Fenris.

The ritual takes minutes and involves Shirallas stepping inside a golden sarcophagus, affixing the red lyrium weapon to it, then a captive dragon breathes dragonfire on it.

Notably, after Shirallas becomes a red wraith, he becomes invulnerable to attacks due to the healing effects of red lyrium.

The only way the group manage to kill him in the end is to separate Shirallas from the red lyrium sword which was fueling his power.

Now this all brings to mind so. many. things!!!!

~~~

The magical healing

In David Gaider's book The Calling, the Architect states that darkspawn don't use healing spells - because darkspawn heal quickly enough without them. In fact, the Architect has his entire hand cut off at the end of the book, yet in Awakening we see him with an intact hand.

Then there is Fiona, Alistair's elven mother. She was a Grey Warden mage, but somehow managed to be cured of the taint after conceiving Alistair with Maric Theirin. To this day we still don't exactly know how she was cured, but it's been hinted at that it had something to do with Maric's bloodline.

Miraculous healing isn't limited to red lyrium though. Many people have made pilgrimages to the Temple of Sacred Ashes because Andraste's ashes supposedly had miraculous healing properties. The Warden can even retrieve some of the ashes to cure Arl Eamon. And if Leliana dies, she magically awakens in the temple, which could be attributed to the 'divine' healing properties of the ashes or even the temple itself.

But is it lyrium or great dragon’s blood that is the true source of these magical healing properties? 

Personally, I think the use of dragonfire in Dark Fortress is further indication that the combination of dragons and lyrium results in a massive power nexus. I think it’s possible that red lyrium is simply lyrium tainted with dragon’s blood (more specifically, Mythal’s blood, but I’ll get to that theory further down).

IMO this is why dragons were strictly reserved for the evanuris in ancient elvhen times- because the key to their immortality and power was dragons and more specifically, great dragon’s blood.

Yavana, Flemeth's daughter, has said "The blood of dragons is the blood of the world."

And who do we know of that has great dragon blood in their veins? 

Alistair, who is descended from the Theirin bloodline.

[above panel from Until We Sleep] 

 The Theirin bloodline

Alistair is descended from King Calenhad, who is believed to be the first founder of Ferelden. Calenhad has a very questionable rise to fame though.

The Qunari believe they know the real story- that he was a destitute man who made deal after deal in his quest for power. He eventually found his power through a deal he made with 'a witch', in which he drank the blood of a great dragon that lay dying.

[above panel from Until We Sleep] 

Notice the red spear? The toothy charms (remember Fen'Harel's teeth)?? And remember Abelas' line: 'No boon of Mythal's was ever granted without cost'. Sure, the witch Calenhad met with could have been 'anyone'. But the signs that this deal was linked to Flemeth is all here.

Flemeth was widely known as the witch of the wilds for years. If Flemeth made a deal with Calenhad and gave him the power he wanted, it would explain why Flemeth has gone out of her way to save his descendent Maric, AS WELL AS Maric’s grandson Alistair. She is heavily invested in the Theirin bloodline.

Calenhad easily rose to power after his deal with the witch, and he was said to be unbeatable in battle. It was said that his armour was made from the water from Lake Calenhad, a lake which was originally a mountain(lyrium), and is believed to contain the tears(blood) of the Lady of the Skies. As I said before, I think it is the combination of dragon’s blood and lyrium that forms this massive power nexus. What’s the bet an ancient battle happened over Lake Calenhad, in which a great dragon’s blood ended up in the lake which was originally a titan?

Anyway, after a few years in power, Calenhad disappeared without a trace. Now I think he went off to fulfil his end of the bargain with the witch.

Keep in mind, Flemeth also had a fate for Maric, because she also struck a deal with him in The Stolen Throne, the terms of which were never made explicit. Maric never ended up fulfilling his end of the bargain though because he was captured by a Tevinter magister, Titus, who needed his blood to restore the Tevinter of old. And so his bargain fell on to his son, Alistair.

Alistair eventually met Flemeth's daughter Yavana in The Silent Grove, and Yavana wanted him to awaken a great dragon using his blood. However, Alistair kills Yavana before this can happen.

Sidenote: I think Alistair could potentially have a huge role in the next game because he is half elven, a grey warden, and also has the blood of a great dragon within him.

But let's get back to the Maric for a bit because this gets even more interesting.

Maric, King Calenhad's son and Alistair’s father, was captured by Magister Titus because he needed his blood to power a Magrallen - a powerful ancient Dreamer artifact.

Titus wanted to restore the Tevinter of old using this device. He wanted to use the magrellan to control the minds of everyone in Thedas and reshape reality entirely through his dream. The key to making this reality was dragon’s blood, which was within King Calenhad. (for more context I HIGHLY recommend reading the comic Until We Sleep)

This may be why Flemeth, and by extension Yavana, wanted to awaken the great dragons. They could have used the dragon’s power and blood to literally change Thedas.

Note that the Venatori now also have this very same goal to restore the Tevinter of old. Their goal derives from their figurehead Corypheus who was one of the first magisters to enter the Black City....!!! I don’t think this is all a coincidence.

I’ve mentioned before, both the Venatori and Solas, who may or may not be working with Mythal’s goals in mind, seem to want the same thing - to reshape reality according to their vision. Without the veil, whoever controls the dream controls reality.

[above panels from Until We Sleep] 

The Tevinter of old was supposedly shaped by powerful dreamers. With a magrallen, you could potentially infiltrate anyone’s dream, and control their mind. This is why to be truly powerful and rule your own dream, you had to have an edge. In the evanuris’ case, I think this was dragon’s blood.

Mythal had strict rules about taking on the form of 'divinity' (a dragon). I think this was likely because dragons and dragonfire/dragon's blood was the true source of the evanuris’ power, and is what allowed them to appear immortal. 

This could explain why the old gods are so inexplicably linked to the evanuris in the lore. I think the evanuris each had a dragon- an old god, and they each used dragon’s blood and dragonfire to make their dreams into literal reality. No one could infiltrate their dreams because only they had access to the power of dragons, which they claimed was their right.

There are signs that Solas’ rebellion tried going up against the evanuris and their dreams. Remember the Sinner, who dared to fly in the shape of the divine? And the scattered orbs in the Vir Dirthara? I think Fen’Harel’s rebellion were trying to create their own orbs of power using dragons and titan hearts so they could take over the evanuris’ dreams. By taking over their dreams, they could level the power imbalance the evanuris had over them and prove once and for all they weren’t truly immortal.

[above panel from Until We Sleep] 

Andraste's deal with the 'Maker' (aka Mythal)

So, with all that context, does anyone think Andraste's story sounds a bit too familiar?????

She was originally a slave, who met with the 'Maker', who then lended her aid in opposing the Tevinter Imperium. She heard music in her dreams, and some thought her to be a powerful mage.

Could Andraste have made a deal with Mythal, just like Calenhad may have, to gain power to free her people?

Could she have ingested great dragon blood as part of Flemythal's grand overarching scheme, but inadvertently died before her plans could come to fruition, forcing Flemeth to rejig her plans?

If Andraste had the blood of a great dragon within her, it would explain why her ashes contained magical healing properties.

It was said Andraste was too weak to bear children, yet she had two daughters later in life.

It all just fits.

But why has FleMythal been so invested in a great dragon bloodline for so long???

Personally, I think Mythal’s end-goal is similar to Titus’. She wants to recraft her utopia and exact vengeance on the evanuris. To ensure she had complete control, she needed the blood/fire of a great dragon. She also needed a physical aspect, Flemeth, to physically act out her plans. But she also needs something else...

The idol 

In Tevinter Nights, Solas states that using the idol 'threatens all creation'. I previously thought the idol could have been the blade to end the war, in Merrill's story on the dread wolf. This could still be the case, but what if the idol wasn’t even a weapon originally, but rather a phylactery containing a corrupted spirit of Mythal? Why else would the idol threaten all creation, unless using it could inadvertently release something even more catastrophic, such as Mythal’s corrupted spirit of vengeance?

Because if Mythal really was as powerful as she seems to have been, how exactly did the evanuris successfully kill her? She surely had some sort of insurance since she has implied she can be in multiple places at once. Abelas says she was killed if a god truly can be, and his notes even say The new ones are faithful to Mythal, but do not understand what she was in her fullness.

What if the evanuris imprisoned Mythal’s essence inside the lyrium idol, and in doing so corrupted her into a spirit of vengeance?

In the Brecilian Ruins, the warden can come across an old phylactery which contains the preserved spirit of an ancient Arcane Warrior:

...The Presence fled the destruction by using the Life Gem, escaping its body. It was sure that someone would come, to rescue it. But no one did. Not until now.

The spirit was trapped there for centuries because it needed someone to physically free them by placing the phylactery on an ancient altar. If the idol does contain Mythal’s spirit, Solas may intend to cleanse it, and free her.

Mythal’s entire image is based on that of a dragon, a source of great magical power. Personally, I think Mythal had the chief role in the pantheon because she had great dragon blood within her. With her conquering of the titans, I think it’s likely that her blood is a part of the blight and the red lyrium corruption.

Mythal ran the elves’ lyrium operations. She had a connection to the titans and their children. She also stole knowledge of the Void from Andruil. Combining all this knowledge it makes sense that she could use this to her advantage once she was imprisoned and corrupted, because she had a connection to both dragon’s blood and lyrium. She just needed a physical aspect- Flemeth, and now Solas, to act out her plans.

Flemeth also just happened to meet Hawke, who eventually helped to recover the idol and also coincidentally had just the right blood needed to free Corypheus from his prison, setting the events of DAI in motion. 🧐 Now I don’t think Flemeth was all-seeing or had magical foresight. I think she just has a connection to the blight through her corrupted, imprisoned spirit within the idol, and this spirit is desperate to be freed. Mythal’s other fragments may not even be in full control of this corrupted spirit anymore, based off the questionable journey of the idol so far. I do think the idol and the Black City is integral to her plans of restoring herself though, and the world she once knew.

And we know Solas understands spirits more than anyone. If Mythal’s spirit is truly corrupted, I think he would be the first person who knew how to cleanse it. To restore Mythal, he would need to free her spirit and may even need to do this in the Black City, which was most likely the seat of her power. 

~~~

If you actually got to the end of all of this and have any further thoughts let me know! I would love to hear them. 

I realise I have rambled quite a bit, but I hope you enjoyed the journey. 😄

[fiadhaisteach]

Things I’ve Read This Week* -  2021.10.02

New Stories

Elvhenan: Tales from the Elven Empire, The Age of Innocence, ⚜️The Taming of the Storm, ⚜️Waters of the Moon by InArlathan (@in-arlathan) - Andruil, Mythal - 3,841 words - each work complete

The DA Alternate Universe Chronicles, Vir'vhen'an by RogueLioness (@roguelioness) - Solas/F!Lavellan - 1,637 words - WIP

Rereads

Diary of a Dislocated Knife-ear, ⚜️Dislocated Souls, ⚜️Dislocated Souls: Skyhold, ⚜️The More Explicit Side of Dislocated by LonelyAgain (@thereallonelyagain) - Solas/MGiT - 705,613 words - WIP

Tumblr (re)Reads

stop pushing me away! prompt by @best-of-the-vein - Solas & F!Cadash

Subscription Updates

lover, your back is bruised from what you carry, A tapestry of stars by noverture (@noverturemusings) - this chapter Solas & Dirthamen, Dirthamen & M!Lavellan (Ch. 26)

Unwritten by UnrealRomance - Solas/MGiT (Ch. 222-223)

Love, Delivered by beaubashley (@beaubartley) - Solas/F!Lavellan (Ch. 7)

beware the forest at night, when there are miles left to go, the forest is dark and deep and i've seen you here before by victoriousscarf (@victoriousscarf) - Solas/M!Lavellan (Ch. 167-168)

Never Again by angelslaugh (@skyerie) - Solas/F!Lavellan (Ch. 151-160)

Scars of Light by Kallypso (@kallypsowrites) - The Darkling|Kirigan/Alina (Ch. 51-52)

Lingrean Rosal'sule'din, The Future Is Not Yet Set In Stone by angelslaugh (@skyerie) - Dorian & F!Lavellan, F!Lavellan/F!Warden, past?Solas/F!Lavellan (Ch. 61-62)

Eunoia by RosellaWrites (@rosella-writes) - Solas/F!Lavellan (Ch. 17)

Hand in Hand in Unlovable Hand by Sevent (@seventfics) - {The Darkling|Aleksander/Alina/Mal} (Ch. 13)

Into the Cosmos, Into the Chaos by Pakhet (@shiver-the-tiefling) - {MGiT~MBiT, Solas/MGiT, Solas~MBiT} (Ch. 80)

She's Lived a Good Life by Kinako - MCiT (Ch. 19)

Til It Squeaks: A Modern Girl's Take on Thedas, Twist Some More by CrackingLamb (@crackinglamb) - Solas/MGiT (Ch. 31)

Wicked Things, What a Wicked Game to Play by Cracking Lamb (@crackinglamb) - Solas/MGiT (Ch. 48)

Fen'Harel's Teeth, Fen'Harel's Teeth by hes5thlazarus (@5lazarus) - Solas/F!Lavellan (Ch. 13)

lover, your back is bruised from what you carry, In the face of your light by noverture (@noverturemusings) - Solas/M!Lavellan, past Dirthamen/M!Lavellan (Ch. 100)

Ma Ghilana Mir Bellanaris, Dir'vhen'an (The Promise) by oxygenforthewicked (@oxygenforthewicked) - Solas/NB!Lavellan (Ch. 19)

Love's Worth Running To, Love Run by JessTalksAlot (@jessitasquirrel) - Solas/F!Lavellan (Ch. 16)

Coiling Time by Enceladus (EspressoComfort) (@espressocomfort) - Solas/MGiT (Ch. 26)

Modern Circus AU, Soaring by bearlytolerable (@bearlytolerant) - Solas/F!Lavellan (Ch. 3)

» side note - multiple chapters may mean multiple updates; or might just be me refreshing my memory, reorienting myself in the story, or rereading some for fun.

*TIRTW & can recommend (previous weeks & TIRTW Key/Legend)

[1000generations]

OC Questionnaire

I sat down to work on my fanfic wip, then ended up reading writing advice where this questionnaire was passed around. I filled it out then took a nap. lol No progress on the wip.

But I thought it'd be fun to pass around these questions. And I'd love to read everyone's answers for their ocs.

I tag @melisusthewee @yukichouji @webbsiee @elenthi @occorner @redinkofshame @blueheaded @darethshirl @emerald-amidst-gold @enasallavellan @iridescentmemoria @for-the-ninth @notebooks-and-laptops @oxygenforthewicked @dreadfutures @rosella-writes @little-lightning-lavellan @the-dreadful-canine and@wickedwitchofthewilds. No pressure of course! You all have probably filled this sort of thing out before.

THE BASICS:

Character’s name: Fen’Asha

Role in story: The Inquisitor (post-trespasser)

Physical description: Blond, slightly curled hair, fit physique, has claw scars on her back, has a prosthetic right arm.

Age: early to mid thirties

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type: INFJ-A (I didn't realise we have the same personality type. Write what you know right?... but I am an INFJ-T so we aren't exactly alike. lol)

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear? Life having no meaning

Inner motivation: To protect those she loves

Kryptonite: Rejection

What is their misbelief about the world? That she is more responsible for what happens to others then is true / Prone to taking blame onto herself

Lesson they need to learn: She must ultimately accept herself, not have herself worth live and die in accordance to other's opinions or what she can do for them

What is the best thing in their life? Faith

What is the worst thing in their life? Pre-Inquisition - Being directly responsible for her Father’s death, the person she was closest to prior Inquisition. He taught her to question myth and legend. Was teaching her more of Fen’Harel at a ruin when she accidentally killed him. Post Inquisition - Discovering her ex-boyfriend is the ancient mage/god figure she projected her hopes and dreams on.

What do they most often look down on people for? Thoughtlessness

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive? Discoveries of truth concerning history/reality

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way? Quality time – Most likely Sera her best friend.

Top three things they value most in life? Freedom, Knowledge, Passion

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why? The Raven Necklace, Fen’Asha has always kept necklaces as symbols of her faith/life’s purpose. Originally the wolf necklace, symbolising her role in clan Lavellan, then Fen’Harel’s prayer stone necklace symbolising her devotion to the dread wolf, now the raven necklace which helped transport her to another world.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom. In the modern world - Keeps her hair in a ponytail, t-shirt and a jacket or cardigan depending on the weather. Jeans or shorts with boots

What names or nicknames has they been called throughout their life? Fennie, Inquisitits (Sera), FenFen (although I don't think I wrote that in anywhere, but it's what I call her)

What is their method of manipulation? Will attempt seduction.

Describe their daily routine. Get up, dress, eat, brush teeth, do hair, research/errands/work, lunch, research/errands/work, supper, visit with friends, shower, relax, sleep

Their go-to cure for a bad day? Have a drink, spend time alone

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life? In the story I'm working on - She is guarding her ex, Solas. She has a lot of resentment and distrust of him but also respects him, still feels a pull and hates that she does. It's a mad web of emotion, a lot of love/hate. But she can't get space cause she has to make sure he doesn't return to Thedas.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment? Death lol …More likely a new found family and Solas uncharacteristically dropping his mission to destroy Thedas as she knows it.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality? She can open up to others, be vulnerable and find new loved ones.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already? She is used to keeping her inner most thoughts to herself, she doubts others could really relate to her. As the first of clan Lavellan she was taught to hold herself apart to some degree in order remain objective.

How does they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of? Share interests and passions, bond over a good drink and stories. She has a history of not sharing her spirituality for fear of judgement (especially when following her idea of Fen'Harel throughout Inquisition). Thus she avoids rejection since she rarely gives people the opportunity to reject her inner most world.

[iawv]

She Called Him Fen’Harel - Chapter 12 "Reunited“

"She Called Him Fen'Harel" on AO3 "Fear isn't so difficult to understand. After all, weren't we all frightened as children? Nothing has changed since Little Red Riding Hood faced the big bad wolf. What frightens us today is the same sort of thing that frightened us yesterday. It's just a different wolf. This fright complex is rooted in every individual." – Alfred Hitchcock

Drawing of Fal & Fen by Ithelana_Lavellan

She was at Fen's side in an instant.

"Falon, you found me," Falherna murmured, approaching the wolf. The animal lowered his head and whimpered.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

No, no.

She knelt beside him. "What happened, Fen?" she whispered, knowing he would not answer. His fur was covered in blood.

She was holding her breath; her heart was pounding in her chest. A lump in her throat was impossible to swallow.

Breathe, she reminded herself. You can help him.

"No, please, no." Fal pleaded, eyes glued to the wolf. She whispered prayers to a god that never answered, to a creature who possibly did not care. How could she believe he is listening?

"Mana, Fen." She took a long breath as her hands investigated Fen. She checked his head, neck with trembling fingers. As she touched his leg, the wolf whimpered in pain. She took a closer look at it and found a cut, some dried blood. Shemlens' arrows caused this. She wanted to roar, claw, and sink her teeth into the flesh of those who did this.

She concentrated on breathing, on what was important.

She returned to examination, checking for other wounds. There were none. A relief washed her over; she let out a huge breath. Her body slumped, lost its stiff posture, and she sat on the ground next to Fen.

She bowed her head, perhaps Fen'Harel was listening after all.

She let out a sigh of relief, stroking his fur, calming him, calming herself.

"Solas," she whispered. Suddenly he was at her side as if he was waiting near to be called.

"I am here," she could hear the concern in his voice.

"Leg wound," she said quietly. Solas dropped to his knees by her side, ready to heal the wound, but she grabbed his arm.

"Slowly. He usually doesn't like strangers." Solas nodded, focusing on the animal.

Breath in, she heard her father's voice again. Breath out, Celia. Focus on helping him.

Focus. The keyword. The crucial lesson of her life.

Still, there was this nagging feeling of fear at the back of her mind. Fear of seeing Fen in pain, seeing him dead.

"I will hold him down so you can heal him, Solas."

The wolf put his head on her lap, allowing her to stroke his fur. She scratched him delicately, knowing how he liked it. She leaned in and whispered into the animal's ear, "This is Solas, ma falon. He will help you."

No dying. Not today.

Solas placed his hands on Fen's leg.

"Mana, falon," she whispered, stroking his fur in a slow, calming manner with her shaking fingers. She could hear her heart, the sound of flowing blood in her ears, her own hitched breath.

Breathe, she reminded herself again and again, in and out.

To find a distraction, she started to study Fen - his eyes, thick fur, teeth, ears. She loved him. He was wild, free, owned by no one, like her.

He was a companion, a partner, a friend, her only connection to reality. Her anchor. He was one of the reasons she was living.

Fal startled at the first tingling warmth of Solas' magic. She could feel it on her skin, his aura reaching her own. The mark on her palm brightened a little, just for a second.

Solas’ hands stopped glowing. "He will be fine, and I stopped the bleeding. Still, I need to immobilize his leg," he stated, reaching for his backpack.

"He is not afraid of you." The statement escaped her lips, and she couldn't hide her surprise. She looked at the elf in the darkness.

He stared at the wolf. "He is not."

She patted Fen's head, staring into his eyes. The wolf poked her with his nose and licked her hand. Falherna laughed softly.

"He loves you," Solas said.

"Obviously," she chuckled, her fingers stroking the soft fur.

She watched Solas as he lowered his gaze, his face drawn tight with concern.

"I love him too," she whispered, more to herself than to him. Solas paused, his eyes meeting hers for the briefest of moments before quickly returning to his task.

"Done," he said after a while, bandaging Fen's paw.

"Ma serannas," Falherna thanked him.

He smiled tightly, but when he met her gaze, something in his eyes softened. "It is no trouble."

Falherna helped Fen stand up. The animal tested his leg, sniffing it, raising and lowering it. He made a few steps towards Fal, who laughed again and patted his head. "You'll be fine."

Solas moved back to the distance.

***

The feeling of Fen’s head and nose beside her cheek was a warm, calm sensation she missed. She looked at the fire, her fingers tucked deeply in his fur, sliding slowly along his jaw and ear. It was comforting to feel his muscles again, his strength, the certainty she is no longer alone.

She hugged him and whispered to his ear, "Soon it will be over. We are getting out of here, ma Fen."

She sighed and laid down on her bedroll. For the first time since the hole in the sky opened, it took her only a brief moment to fall asleep.

***

Solas sat quietly. The fire almost died out; he sent a small fireball at it.

Rubbing the base of his palm against his eyes, he tried to gather his thoughts. He would rest as best he could, but he suspected that his dreams would offer no release.

It happened again; the mark gave him access to Herald's state of mind. The world went blank as his fingers made contact with hers. This time he could see things, but all were fragmented. Images. Emotions. Sensations.

His eyes settled on Herald for a moment, observing her marked hand.

The anchor shouldn't cause this - the strange connection between the barer's mind and him. He never experienced anything like this before.

It was no mind-reading, no telepathy, nothing similar to it.

He sighed; there was no way to test it without engaging Herald in it, and the thought was both exciting and disturbing.

Whatever this incredible power was, Herald did not know about it and consequently did not have any control over it.

He looked away from Herald with a sense of relief. He didn't want to fail at his assumptions - it irritated him. And he didn't want to develop an interest in her hidden thoughts or feelings.

Not worth the effort to uncover them.

***

The sky was beginning to blush into the evening, turning violet and gold.

Falherna followed the winding road, refreshed by the cold air whipping across her face, raising gooseflesh along her arms. The closer they got to Haven, the calmer she was. There was no way this could work, but she had prepared an alternative solution.

She tucked her hair into a ponytail and scratched Fen behind his ear. He strolled by her side, looking at her from time to time.

Solas and Varric stayed a few steps behind, their attempts at interacting with her unsuccessful.

The conversation with anyone did not interest her at the moment.

She had things to consider to make it work. She was not going to separate herself from Fen.

The world already took her freedom, locking her in one place with unwanted magic in her palm.

She pinched the bridge of her nose as her head started to pound. She was tired, so were Solas and Varric, probably. They found a small clearing less than halfway back to Haven.

"We can camp here," she suggested slowing her steps.

"Good idea, Brighteyes, also I need to talk to you," she was expecting it. Varric would not let this go. She just nodded.

While Varric and Solas lighted the fire and prepared their bedrolls, she placed both hands on either side of the Fen's head and lifted it to look into his eyes. He met her gaze solemnly and let out a soft whine.

“We're going to figure this out. Ara dir'vhen'an,” she said with a reassuring smile, pressing a kiss to his nose's bridge.

The wolf buried its head in her chest. She smiled, closing her eyes and absorbing the noises of the approaching night.

Her neck began to stiffen and tense, a tingling sensation spread on her skin, a feeling of someone else’s gaze. She didn't know how, but she was sure it was Solas, observing her.

The rising sun had burned most of the mist away. The wind whispered across the long grass and rustled the leaves of the trees lining the dirt road, the gentle sounds of the countryside drowning out the noise of the bustling village. She studied the wildflowers and rocks as they continued climbing up the bridge.

"You know they won't let Fen cross gates of Haven," he heard Varric's words as he got back from relieving himself.

The Herald was humming thoughtfully, her hand never leaving Fen's head. She turned her head to meet his eyes. For an instant, Solas felt caught. Underprepared.

"Not immediately," she muttered, taking a sip of water; a single line appeared between her eyebrows for a second, then her features smoothed out, and emotion fled her gaze.

Solas laid on the bedroll behind the Herald's back and listened to the exchanged. Varric was not wrong humans would not let the woman - even Herald of Andraste - walk among them with the wolf at her side.

"So, you've got a plan, Fal?" Varric leaned in, grinning conspiratorially.

"Always," her answer simple as usual. She quickly changed the subject, talking about someone who they both knew.

Through half-closed eyelids, Solas observed the jewelry in her hair. There were still those odd metallic beads braided in, a claw at the end of one.

She moved her head, and he frowned. Was that a wolf head on one of her braids?

It matters not, if that's a wolf head or something else, he thought.

He closed his eyes, steading his breath. The Herald laughed, and his eyes opened.

Fen turned his head, meeting Solas' gaze.

The wolf watched him as close as Solas, himself, was watching the Herald.

***

Cassandra stood with her arms crossed staring at Fen, face tense, unease in her eyes.

Falherna clasped her hands behind her back, waiting patiently. At the corner of her eye, she could see gawkers - some curious, some visibly scared of the wolf by her side.

"What's the meaning of this?" snapped Cassandra.

"Seeker...," Varric murmured.

"Let's wait for advisors," Falherna cut in, "I saw you sent for them."

The Seeker looked at her surprised before she shook her head.

"Fine."

Tension settled over them as they waited. Falherna could sense Seeker's anger seething just below the surface.

"What in the Maker's name happened?" they heard Cullen's voice shortly before joining them. Behind him walked Leliana with Josephine, who trying to keep up while pulling her second hand into a coat sleeve.

"Herald?" Cullen's eyes widened when his gaze rested on the wolf. He looked at Falherna, waiting for the explanation.

She did not plan to answer yet. She preferred to remain silent until everyone saw the situation they were in.

Solas stepped closer and now stood beside Fen.

"Oh my!" Josephine covered her mouth, eyeing the wolf.

Leliana kept herself quiet; however, she couldn't hide the smirk on her face.

Cassandra sent Falherna a frustrated glance.

"I will ask again - what's the meaning of this?" her tone icy.

"This is Fen, the wolf I told you about," she explained and held her silence for a beat. "Before you start accusing me of dragging here a dangerous beast, I would like to propose a compromise."

Falherna sighted discreetly, waiting for the flow of words to end.

Humans. They would never disappoint. Were their mind so broken they couldn't recognize what compromise meant?

Her hand automatically found Fen's head, while her fingers stroke the fur.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see how Solas' gaze kept darting over to her face.

"Herald, I've heard something about a compromise?" the corner of her mouth twitched at Leliana's voice.

She looked at Cullen, Cassandra, and Josephine, who stood in front of her with their confused expressions, and she felt so tired. Tired of the words she did not say yet, of the fights she did not experience yet, of explanations they did not ask of her yet, of the role she did not want, of the fate waiting for her.

"Yes. For the sake of everyone, Fen and I will stay in the Taigen's shack north of Haven," she paused, her blue eyes suddenly sharp, "If you want me to stay, of course."

Her face was so set as to be carved from stone. They regarded each other, both her and Seeker, motionless.

Cullen was the first to interrupt the silence. He took a step towards Fal, and Fen did the same, snarling quietly.

"He doesn't seem to like you, Curly," Varric laughed.

Commander Cullen sent him a brief look, focusing on the Herald.

"We want you to stay, Herald. Without you, we are doomed," he assured her.

Falherna dug her hand into Fen's fur, calming the animal.

"Thank you," she answered, merely looking at the Commander.

"Herald, forgive me for asking but do you ever lose control?" he asked, and immediately his hand gripped the back of his neck.

"In certain specific situations, yes," her tone reserved, eyes studying his body language. He seemed embarrassed. He regretted opening his mouth, obviously.

Luckily Leliana decided to intervene once again.

"If we are done here, I would like to talk to you, Herald. There is a message delivered today," she quickly got straight to the point, bowing her head slightly as if she was trying to hide a little smirk on her face.

"I will gladly talk to you, but I would like to clean up first if you allow."

"You are the Herald, my Lady," her arms tensed when she heard Cullen.

"I am no one's Lady, Commander," she answered with weariness. She was exhausted; her mind and body screamed for rest.

"I will meet you in the war room in an hour." Leliana smiled at her, and the four of them left towards the gate.

She stood there with her hand on Fen's head, feeling eyes on her. Too many eyes - of soldiers, people of Haven, kids, her companions.

"Do you have murderous thoughts, Brighteyes?" Varric joined her.

She said nothing.

With a corner of her eye, she saw Varric's gaze. He was worried about her.

"Do not trouble yourself, Storyteller. Go and rest." she sent him a faint smile, "I will see you later.".

She had never felt so alone as she did standing in the midst of this small village. There was no one to talk to. No one who could understand, comfort her.

She heard the sound of voices and turned to look behind her. The gawkers were slowly scattering. Some were still there, pointing at Fen and whispering to each other.

She moved towards the shack with Fen by her side.

***

Varric sighed loudly, "Fuck."

Solas looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and the dwarf shook his head as if he wanted to get rid of some persistent thought.

"Fate is a weird thing, Chuckles," he murmured.

"Is it?"

"She is forced to stay amongst humans which she disklike, to put it mildly. She is trapped here. I worry," dwarf seemed to be speaking to himself, but Solas listened carefully.

"You worry because you think the Herald does not have enough strength to endure?" he asked not only out of curiosity. The fact was he wanted to know if she was a flight risk.

Varric snorted "Nah, Chuckles, I do not worry about lack of strength. She has it more than enough.".

Solas frowned trying to make some sense of it while Varric continued. He caught a glimpse of red hair before Herald and her wolf disappeared behind the trees. He wondered how long humans will allow her to stay outside of Haven.

"You know what a cage can do to free man? Imagine having no space to call your own, no choice over who to be with, what to eat, or where to go. Day after day threat and suspicion everywhere," Varric sighed while they passed the main gate.

"I can imagine, Master Thetras," Solas murmured, "I would assume Herald can adapt."

"She is confined to this kind of environment so has no option but to change and adapt," the dwarf face took a grim expression.

"What worries you then?"

"The change. The chronic loss of free choice, lack of privacy, daily stigma. To be honest this constant mask of invulnerability and emotional flatness is the most disturbing factor. I struggle with it since I know her," a small laugh escaped his mouth, "Asked her about it many times but she always dismissed me with silence or stoicism bullshit theory."

They stopped by the fire to warm their fingers. Varric invited him to sit as he handed him a bowl of water. Solas considered it for a moment but refused, waiting impatiently to get back to his cottage. The conversion, while very interesting, took too long already.

"She is not alone. We are all here to support her." he declared however without conviction.

Varric sat silently for a while and Solas was ready to leave when the dwarf looked at him and smiled.

"Yeah, maybe. Maybe the presence of Fen will help or perhaps Faron would be a better solution for her troubles." the dwarf scratched his chin.

Don't ask. It is none of your business.

The question burnt in his mind but eventually never left his mouth. He bowed lightly leaving Varric alone.