#fen'sulahn au?

[justanartsysideblog]

Is there any AU out there where Falon'din isn't a dick? Like maybe Olwyn goes back and is one of the original evanuris rather than becoming Ghilan'eth? Maybe she takes Fen'Harel's spot instead and makes him into a decent person?

Are you…are you asking for an Olwyn x Falon’Din AU? Idon’t think I could do that, quite honestly. But I DO think I could twist thisso that you get the rest of what you’re asking for? An AU were Falon’Din isstill probably somewhat of a dick, but not a horrendous murderous tyrannicalsycophant and Olwyn is Fen’Harel. I think that is probably going to be our best bet. Because so longas he’s just someone you don’t get along with at dinner parties but isn’t afamily member you would actively consider murdering, I think that’s a goodbalance. So um…here we go…

 ---

There are three spirits born of Mythal and Elgar’nan.

Twin spirits are rare, but three intertwined and connectedare something even Mythal is unsure of; Purpose, Longing, and Determination.Powerful and inquisitive and already becoming something more than themselves.

Purpose and Longing, Mythal thinks, can be molded to heroutlook.

Determination holds sway over the other two, a mediator; steadyand strong and forthright. It could prove dangerous, in time. But already thethree remind her of herself and Elgar’nan, and she is unsure what could happento Longing and Purpose if Determination is shattered. In the end she cannotdestroy it, and the three take on bodies.

Purpose becomes Falon’Din. Longing becomes Dirthamen. AndDetermination, the eldest, becomes Fen’Sulahn.

It is the name her mother gives her, but she chooses her ownas well. Olwyn, she decides, because it is pretty, and her brothers speak it andit feels like her own. 

She learns how it feels to walk on two legs, and topress her fingers against skin and feel warmth, and hold them to the chillnight air and feel the opposite.

She sings, and likes the sound of her voice, and Mythalsmiles “the name was fitting” and when she cups her hands and howls, loud andlong over the canyon and the sound echoes back like a war cry, Elgar’nan nodsin agreement.

Fire she enjoys; twisting it, turning it into new andfantastic shapes, making it bright and hot and terrifying and warm and soft andcomforting as she wills. 

She leaves white footprints for Dirthamen to follow,to lead him out of the Dreaming when he stays for too long, to remind him thathis body is here now. 

And when Falon’Din snarls she bears her own fangs toremind him that he cannot do as he pleases, and also to sing him to sleep whenhe seems driven to madness with his need to be.

Falon’Din does not take to his body well.

Dirthamen is still more spirit than elf, sometimes; his bodystretched and pulled and oozing between cracks in the Dreaming, tetheredtogether by thin lines that keep him whole but not always present. Longing doesrelatively well, in becoming more than itself, because its nature allows forit.

Purpose needs to be driven; an end goal, something toattain. Something solid and real and finite. Falon’din hunts for one, but whenhe completes all the small tasks that Olwyn and Dirthamen provide for him, orthat their mother suggests, he becomes empty, and brittle, and dark.

He is more eager to leap onto the battlefields their parentslead them toward, to rip and rend and destroy, because he is empty and needsto be filled, and Olwyn and Dirthamen worry what will happen if they cannotfind a solution; what he may corrupt into if given the chance.

Longing pulls, and Purpose pushes, but Determination remainsgrounded.

Olwyn agrees with Dirthamen that Falon’Din needs a purposethat cannot be easily obtained. But it must not be something that can twisteasily to some other end, she knows. She loves her parents, but has neverdoubted that Mythal chose them for a reason and that she wishes to makecertain they fulfill it.

Olwyn knows she must come upwith a solution. The three came to exist at the same moment, and the tiebetween them is strong. She stands in the middle ground between two sides, notpart of the spectrum but a force than can move within it. And she is theeldest, and the most stubborn. She will not give up, and she will not take aneasy route.

Her mother and father tell her that they are to be the greatleaders of the People, and it is their job to protect and guide them, even ifnot all the People understand this. Olwyn is determined to do well in thatregard. And Falon’Din is one of the People, even if he is also one of itsleaders.

Greatness?Dirthamen suggests.

No. Greatness can mean too many things. Great does not mean good, and Olwyn thinks that being goodwill be important, further down the line. They may be at war but that does notmean they must be cruel. Falon’Din’s personality is already hard, and moreprone to anger than not—he is similar to their father in that regard. And he isvain enough, without them leading him to believe he must be the greatest thereis or will be.

She does not know if she can give him a proper purpose, butshe knows she will never give up trying.

Olwyn looks down at the blade of her spear, the flicking oflight and magic across its surface, and remembers the old story a spirit of memoryhad told them, once, when they had just gained their bodies; about the twowolves that live inside every one of the People, that are constantly fightingwith one another.

“One of the wolves iscruel and destructive, it is anger and envy and greed and lies and resentmentand ego. It fights everyone, for no reason, and it is a helpless anger, for itsanger will change nothing.” Memory hummed, twisting softly in the moonlight. “Theother wolf is noble and good, it is joy and love and hope and humility andcompassion and truth. It does not take offense when no offense was intended,and only fights when it is right to do so.”

Falon’Din was silent,but Dirthamen spoke, “Which wolf wins?”

Memory was silent fora very long time, before saying, “The one you feed.”

Olwyn wonders if Mythal heard this old story, from backbefore there were any gods or leaders at all, and then named her Fen’Sulahnbecause of it. She wonders what happened to that spirit of memory, who held somany things that others had forgotten, who she never saw again.

She wonders which wolf Mythal wishes her to feed.

She hopes she feeds the right one.

---

Well, this was actually pretty fun! I kind of want to domore, we’ll see what happens. If Olwyn were ever a spirit she would beDetermination, and I think Determination fits in pretty well with Purpose andLonging. 

So in this AU, Falon’Din won’t be nice per se. He’ll still kind of bea jerk, but now he’s got Olwyn to tell him to stop being a shit, and to keephim from mass sacrificing everyone and building ugly blood fountains. AndDirthamen gets a non-abusive sibling, woooo! 

And because Olwyn gets the position ofFen’Harel, Pride can remain a spirit of Pride maybe? Maybe this is the AU whereLavellan comes back and she and Olwyn get together, who knows? Olwyn and Kelare my secret OTP.

The story memory told is based off of a Cherokee legend, I can’t take credit for that one. I imagine there were many old stories from the time before the evanuris, but I don’t think that poor memory was allowed to remain and tell more old stories to the children. 

[captusmomentum]

@circadian-rhythm replied to your post “#glad that inan approves of the big hair #XD #honestly olwyn trusts...”

Also mythal won't be able to conveniently murder inan like she's done anyone else that got romantically involved with olwyn. She is going to be freaking out so bad. Meanwhile Olwyn is like 'welcome to adahlan this is my city of trees and dogs'. Haurshos likes Inan and Haurshos is an AMAZING judge of character ok? He's a giant boofing hound that is all you need for a seal of approval.

and inan is like, THE WORST ONE OF ALL OF THEM. once mythal puts 2 and 2 together and is like fuCK YOU’RE THAT WOLF DOUCHE FROM BACK IN THE DAY!!!!!! she’s even more like “i gotta get this asshole AWAY from my daughter” but sadly inan is too swole and the attempt would be potentially disastrous so she has to stew and try to come up with something. 

inan’s just like WOW THIS PLACE IS DOPE and IMMEDIATELY loves haurshos. he’s very reminiscent of the dogs they had in her birth clan that she actually vaguely remembers (read: big and FLOOF). inan’s in DOG HEAVEN SHE’S NEVER LEAVING!!!!!!!

[feynites]

*sneaks this into @justanartsysideblog‘s bag*

Their first attempt at becoming parents does not go well.

 Werewolves, as it happens, are somewhat prone to miscarriages, and to multiple births. No one is entirely sure why. In part because they’re mostly a secret society, and not prone to letting doctors and scientists poke and prod at them. There are some experts within the community, of course. Sympathy is a doctor and also a magical healer by trade, and so is Lensa, and Olwyn herself knows a good deal of first aid and has taken some online medical courses. But their facilities are pretty limited, and without exposure - which carry its own host of dangers and likely destruction - there’s only so much they can do.

 Still, when Olwyn finds out that she’s pregnant, they celebrate. With sparkling apple juice, and friends who pretend that they’re getting drunk on it anyway, and an impromptu sort-of-baby-shower that features a lot of unsolicited (but mostly fun) advice, and a whole lot of speculation. Marassal, eager soul that he is, is the first one to turn up with baby gifts - three sets of adorable footie pyjamas, in different patterns, all soft and small enough for a newborn. But he isn’t the only one to turn up at the apartment complex. Especially considering most of the pack lives there. In the span of the first month, they are given baby booties and blankets, toys and supply kits, and Beauty and Sym even come by to help paint the nursery room.

 And then…

 Well.

 Olwyn wakes up bleeding in the night. Trying not to panic, but somehow they both just know what’s happened even before Kel carries her out to the car, and gets her to the clinic.

 She tries to be objective about it. And, mostly, she finds that she can succeed. There are so many ways in which the process can go wrong. So many factors outside of their control. She tries to think of it as a false start, for her own sake, but Olwyn takes it harder. Blames herself, even when she knows that she shouldn’t - even when she tries to act like she doesn’t. Kel can see it, can hear it in the way she cries and struggles with it, and burns the bedsheets she bled on, and can’t go into the nursery for the first few days afterwards.

 Kel holds her, and tries to offer comfort. But sometimes there’s nothing for it, except to be there, and to share the grief.

 Even that is subject to Olwyn’s capacity for guilt, though.

 “I know it doesn’t… that I’m, I’m focusing too much on…” she tries to offer, one evening. After another night of crying, and Kel getting them both up and making them tea. Her wife’s hands curl around her favourite mug, soaking in the warmth. But she doesn’t sip it. Just sits and stares at the cracks in the old tabletop.

 Kel reaches over and steals one of her hands from the mug. Threading their fingers together.

 “It matters,” she says. “You’re allowed to focus on it, Vhenan.”

 Olwyn closes her eyes, and lets out a long breath.

 “You don’t,” she says.

 That stings.

 “Of course I do,” Kel replies, unable to hide it. But Olwyn shakes her head, then, in wordless apology.

 “No, not like that. Not like you don’t care. I just mean… you’re not fixating on…”

 Ah.

 Well, that’s true, too. She can admit.

 “It’s easier for me, on that front,” she says. “It happened to both of us, in a way, but in a more physical sense it happened to you. I was on the outside. So, I can be the one who looks at the practical things right now. And you can take your time. It’s alright, love, it really is.”

 Olwyn closes her eyes, and lets out a long breath.

 “You want to try again,” she says, with certainty.

 Kel doesn’t deny it.

 But…

 “There are a lot of ways to have children,” she says. “I’m good with all of them, to be honest. And I’m not in a hurry. If it doesn’t happen, then it doesn’t happen. Life’s still good. I’m not going anywhere, Olwyn. Even if you don’t want to try again - then we won’t, and we’ll live.”

 That gets her a surprised look. Which might sting a little too, except that Kel knows how hard it is to get over the idea that the people you love will leave you. That at the first sign of trouble or failure, the first ounce of suffering, they’ll decide you’re not worth it anymore, and then just cut themselves free. Olwyn’s fingers tighten around her own. She tugs, a little, and after a moment Kel goes. Standing up from her chair, and settling in front of her wife’s. She wraps her arms around her, and sinks into a long, slow kiss. The full moon is a few nights away, and usually when it is things start heating up between them. But not this month. This month everything is slow and steady, soft and careful. The both of them handling one another with a keen awareness for the fragility of everything.

 “It’s the curse,” Olwyn murmurs, before closing her own arms more tightly around her.

 Kel sighs, and squeezes her back.

 “Maybe. Or maybe this is just a bad thing that happens to a lot of people, for no good reason,” she counters. “Either way, it’s not your fault.”

 And that is the mantra for the next while, too. Not your fault.

 Sometimes Kel wonders if it’s hers, instead. Something she did or didn’t do. Something she could have noticed. Maybe she should have argued more, when Olwyn offered to be the one to carry their child. Maybe that would have been wiser or more practical. But at the time, her wife’s enthusiasm had been infectious, and Kel wasn’t really all that enamored with the concept of pregnancy.

 She thinks on it more, though. Through the full moon and the end of the month, through the pack meetings, and into the next, and so on. Gradually, things begin to regain their equilibrium. They sort of have to, she supposes - life doesn’t actually pause for grief or trauma, and both of them are trying to get back to it anyway. Their love life starts to heat up again. On their anniversary, Kel scoops her wife up into her arms, and carries her much more happily. Carting her off to bed after a long and romantic dinner; taking her time to pull off Olwyn’s jewellery, and free her hair from the fancy braids she wove it into.

 And Olwyn slides her hands up Kel’s dress, and hums as she unhooks her bra, and cups her breasts. The full moon is on its way again, and it shows in the way Olwyn shivers more at her touch. Pressing in closer, nipping with her kisses, and letting off a few soft growls of frustration whenever their clothing impedes them. Kel teases her, drawing it out. She pins her to the bed, and trails her lips down the sensitive side of her neck. Lets her touch linger at Olwyn’s hips, and knees, and leaves her in her dress even as she gets a thigh between her legs, and watches her breasts escape the flimsy straps of her top.

 “You look good enough to eat,” she declares.

 Olwyn huffs, and then twists her position enough that she can wrap her legs around Kel, and squeeze her close.

 “Then get a move on, before I flip us over and take care of this myself,” she replies, tauntingly.

 Kel laughs.

 “My pleasure.”

 She migrates her way down with kisses, even so. Letting Olwyn’s breasts stay in her bra, because it’s a pretty one and they look good in it. She pauses at her navel, and dips her tongue into it, first. Before she finishes unzipping the dress, and lets go of Olwyn enough so that she can pull it away. Then Kel takes a moment to admire her matching set of panties. Blue and lace and lovely next to the soft spray of freckles on Olwyn’s thighs. Those, of course, need kissing, which she indulges in, until Olwyn’s hips are twisting and her fingers and pressing very pointedly against the skin behind her ears. Hurry up, the gestures say.

 Kel toys with the band of Olwyn’s panties, but in the end, her first move is to press her mouth to them, and leave them on as she drags her tongue along the smooth center of the fabric.

 Already damp, and the scent of arousal is very strong.

 “Delicious,” she hums.

 Olwyn pinches one of her ears. The moonlight spills into the bedroom, but the heat that’s building up inside of her feels too fiery for it. It looks good on the two of them, though. Landing gently on Olwyn’s curves, and catching on the shine of her lips as she opens her mouth. But whatever she had been planning on saying turns into a soft moan, as Kel presses her legs a bit further apart, and then sets upon the task of devouring her through her panties. Dragging her tongue in long, deep strokes, until the fabric is thoroughly askew, and she can’t resist the tantalizing offer of the heat beneath it.

 Then she pushes the fabric aside, and indulges her fingers and her tongue. Pausing only to look up and enjoy the view, to watch as Olwyn struggles her way out of her bra and cups her own breasts, and bites her lip, and rocks her hips into her licks and touches. Unhesitating in a way that makes something in Kel’s chest ease. An unspoken apprehension, built up from months of carefulness, that finally loosens its jaws.

 She even feels inspired enough to go and retrieve her favourite strap-on, leaving Olwyn perilously close to her edge as she casts her own dress aside, and shimmies her way into it.

 “This alright?” she checks.

 Olwyn looks at her, her gaze all fervent in desire, and then reaches over to grab the belt of her strap-on, and tug her closer.

 “Yes,” she says, emphatically. Before she flushes even more, at her own boldness, and bites her lip again.

 It makes Kel laugh with relief, and steal a kiss from her lips. Pressing close enough to feel Olwyn’s breasts against her own, to feel her pulse hammering, and breathe in the send of her. Then she lines them up, and her wife grips her biceps tight, and lets out a low moan at the inward press of the strap-on.

 This particular toy isn’t two-way, but it still presses pleasantly on Kel’s own parts at the briefest bit of pressure. It means that she has to make fairly deep strokes to get much stimulus on her own end, though, and she takes it careful at first. At least until Olwyn reaches down to her ass and grips her tighter, pulling her in abruptly enough that the both cry out at the sensations. Her nerves tingle and Olwyn’s eyes are yellow-bright in the moonlight, her teeth a little sharper than usual, the whole of her spread out in an invitation that hedges as close to a demand as she ever gets.

 Kel moves faster, then. Picking up the pace and giving in to temptation again, until she’s lifted Olwyn’s hips, and the bed is rocking in time with her thrusts. Each inward stroke tantalizes and teases her further. Drawing her perilously close to her own finish, by the time Olwyn arches and then stiffens in a very distinctive way.

 She has to stop herself from carrying on, then. Mindful of the sensitivity of the aftermath. He chest heaves with her own breaths, but while she thinks Olwyn is still coming down from her own heights, her wife pulls her down for another kiss, and then very pointedly does roll them over. Closing one hand over the strap-on, still slick from being inside of her, and pressing it down, before she undoes the belt. And then she takes it off of Kel, and turns it in her grasp. Sending her a questioning look, as she lines it up with Kel’s own entrance.

 “My turn?” she suggests. Her voice sounds shaky, and the light in her eyes is bright enough that if Kel didn’t know any better, she’d think it was the full moon.

 She stretches her arms up, and spreads her legs wider in invitation.

 “If you want-”

 Her acceptance barely gets any further before her breath catches, then. As Olwyn presses her thumb to her clit, and starts to work the slick toy into her own entrance. She doesn’t put it on, not this time. Instead she just uses it by hand, making shallow strokes and rubbing firm circles against her, mindful enough of her nails that she switches to her knuckle after a moment, but this evening she doesn’t need to take them off, as Kel is close enough already. A few more strokes and she comes, calling for Olwyn.

 Who answers it by climbing back up onto the bed. Her limbs a bit shaky, her grip possessive as she wraps her arms around Kel. But Kel can’t claim the high ground on that, as she clutches her back just as fervently - and with no moonlight to blame for the covetous note in her murmured affections.

 All in all, a pretty normal anniversary for them.

��A few nights later, she wakes up with Olwyn’s head on her chest. Fingers idly tracing patterns over the bedspread. When Kel starts carding her own through her wife’s hair, she glances up at her.

 “Sorry. Did I wake you?” she asks.

 “Maybe. S’alright,” Kel replies, because it is, and she likes the way Olwyn smells when she’s halfway asleep. Likes the way she feels when she’s relaxed and easy against her. She presses a kiss to the top of her head - and mostly gets hair, but who’s counting - and eases into the rhythm of both of their breaths. Almost slipping away again, before Olwyn speaks.

 “I want to try again,” she says.

 Kel’s brain takes a minute to catch up with her, and she finds herself murmuring in reflexive agreement - of course, dear, if you want to - before the real meaning hits her. It wakes her up more, and has her sitting up against the pillows. Olwyn shifts so she’s beside her, and they can look at one another.

 “You’re sure?” Kel asks. Because, whilst Olwyn is not a doormat, she is an exceedingly generous person. And generous people need to be given the space to not be, when it’s needed.

 There’s no furrow to Olwyn’s brow, however. Just a steady - and very awake - sort of contemplation in her gaze.

 “I do,” she affirms. “But I… I’m not sure if… well. If it went wrong again, I don’t think know if I’d be able to try even more. Maybe, but… I’m just, I know I want to. I think I knew I would want to even before, but I just couldn’t let myself. It felt too much like I was just casting aside…”

 She trails off.

 Kel gets it, though. She brushes some strands away from Olwyn’s face, and then cups her cheeks in her hands, before pulling her close again.

 “We’ll talk specifics in the morning. It’ll be okay,” she promises.

 They don’t decide it that night, or even the next few days. But that’s the start of how Kel ends up on the ‘receiving’ end of the ritual, this time. An old elven one, which is neither as sexy as one might hope, nor as invasive as one might fear. It takes them a few tries, another six months in fact, but just when they’re starting to consider that the process might not actually work on Kel for some reason, she takes one of her scheduled tests and sees the blue lines come back positive.

 It fills her with more feelings than she can readily describe. Trepidation not the least among them - and that makes her wonder if they shouldn’t have maybe looked at other options more thoroughly. Though most, of course, were further complicated by the whole ‘werewolf’ thing. Adoption was especially tricky when you knew that any kid you took in was essentially being brought into that, on top of everything else.

 Though, of course, a baby being born into it probably isn’t much better.

 But then she takes a few breaths, and lingers in the bathroom for several minutes. Reminding herself that they’ve been over that. And that there really isn’t much problem with the whole werewolf thing.

 It’s been a while since surreal turn of her life has caught her off-guard. But it strikes her again, as she stares at the positive test. She was just… normal. All her life, just a normal elf. And now she’s married to a werewolf, and it turns out magic is more than she ever might have imagined. And she’s in love and she’s going to have to go on maternity leave and there is a person growing inside of her, which was dizzying enough when… when it was Olwyn. But there’s an added layer of strangeness to the experience, when it’s her own body that’s going to grow and change and… and hopefully accommodate what’s going on inside.

 Creators, she hopes it doesn’t… doesn’t go wrong.

 She’s not the praying type. But she maybe manages a few, just on the off-chance anyone is listening, before she leaves the bathroom. Olwyn knows when she’s testing. They have an agreement that she’s not supposed to wait, because when she sits and waits she gets worked up and over-thinks everything and worries if it takes too long. So she’s on the couch, in front of their television set, pretending that she’s watching House Hunters and not the clock next to it.

 But there’s really nothing for the look in her eyes, when she turns and stares at Kel, and the test in hand.

 Normally Kel just throws them out, when they’re negatives. Comes back out empty-handed.

 This one, she holds up.

 What should she say? ‘Surprise’ doesn’t really seem accurate or appropriate, and ‘congratulations’ seems weird when they’re both going to be celebrating the news.

 “It, um… it took,” she says, and then almost smacks herself in the forehead, because what the hell, that’s the probably the least romantic or enthusiastic or happy way to deliver the news. Which is, indeed, happy news.

 But Olwyn doesn’t seem terrible bothered, as her eyes go wide, and she shoots up from the couch like a rocket.

 “Really?!” she exclaims.

 Kel nods, rapidly, a few times. And then Olwyn reminds her that werewolves are fast, as she’s barely opened her mouth to attempt some slightly less awkward commentary before there are arms around her. Squeezing her tight - though only on the backs of her shoulders, she notes - as Olwyn makes a sound of incoherent joy, and then spins them both around.

 “It worked!” she exclaims. “It worked, it worked!”

 A laugh, equal parts delighted and nervous, bubbles out of Kel.

 “According to the test, anyway,” she says.

 “We have to go to the clinic,” Olwyn decides, immediately.

 And even though Kel isn’t quite as convinced that an immediate visit is called for, she gives in. Sym is on duty, and he takes the time to do a basic check-up, as well as pretty much just confirming what the test told her. It’s early days, yet, for anything more extensive. At Olwyn’s behest he does an ultrasound, too, but even that can only just confirm that there’s a speck of something in there, and not really give much more information either way.

 They do things differently this time, though. Telling everyone right away had also meant that everyone knew when they’d lost their first attempt, too, and that had stung throughout the community. And Kel’s pretty sure it had made Olwyn feel even worse in the end, too. Like she’s somehow let people down, in addition to losing the pregnancy.

 So this time, they don’t have to debate much to agree that they’re going to take a different approach. They keep it just between the two of them, and Sympathy, and Lensa, for the start. Kel goes into the nursery to take stock of what all they have again, though. And Olwyn ventures in too, though they don’t really talk about it. She runs her hand across the side of the crib, and dusts everything, and gets new curtains for the windows.

 The nursery looks out over the small, square park behind the housing block; and staring straight out gives a view of the forests, in the distance, rather than the city skyscrapers.

 If Kel starts acquiring a few more charms for good fortune and health, and happens to leave them on the nursery windowsill, Olwyn doesn’t bring it up, either.

 The first trimester is mostly marked by a lot of nausea. Pregnancy is uncomfortable, Kel finds. She throws up a lot more, and becomes infinitely more neurotic about her food. And not even in the ‘weird cravings’ sense that she’s expected - though she does find herself suddenly wanting to eat things like liver and curry and blackberries, that she’d never been entirely keen on before. Those aren’t weird foods, though, and the biggest shift is that she starts getting more particular about what she has with what. Suddenly fruit with cereal is unappealing - it has to be fruit or cereal. And meat she just wants on its own as often as not, too. Her normal breakfast-lunch-dinner habits break down into something more like six smaller meals a day,

 She throws up in the evenings pretty often, too, though not with enough regularity to cause concern.

 Concern doesn’t really make itself known until she goes in for her first proper ultrasound, and a check-up that has been slightly bumped up because Olwyn is convinced that she’s vomiting more than she should be, and is worried about preeclampsia. The check of her blood pressure doesn’t turn up any major problems, though - which is a relief.

 But the ultrasound provides another explanation for Kel’s increased quality time with the porcelain throne.

 “Lupine fertility strikes again,” Lensa declares, as she moves the wand around Kel’s stomach, and gestures to the blurry and - to Kel, anyway - undecipherable shapes on it. She’s too busy trying to parse what’s on the screen to really register the comment’s implications, at first. Olwyn is quicker on the uptake, and squeezes Kel’s hand tightly as her lips part a little in surprised.

 “Two?” she says.

 Wait, two what?

 And then Kel remembers. Werewolves are known for complicated pregnancies, and for multiple births.

 “Twins?” she asks, as her eyes go wide.

 Lensa grins at them.

 “At least,” she declares. “It could be triplets, it’s a little early to be completely sure. But it’s definitely more than one.”

 Kel blinks.

 She feels weirdly faint, for a few moments.

 It’s strange, she supposes, because obviously on some level she knew it was a possibility. But they’d had to work so hard to get pregnant - Olwyn’s pregnancy hadn’t taken in a hurry, either, and while she knows there are people who’ve gone through a lot more, it still feels like it took a monument combination of luck and effort to get here. And now somehow it’s not even just one little baby, it’s two. Two people, growing inside of her. Depending entirely upon her actions to make it to birth, and then depending on her and Olwyn to survive once they’re here.

 Two.

 At least.

 “Kel?” Olwyn asks her, as she blinks some more. She moves closer, obviously concerned, and brushes a few fingers across her forehead. “Are you okay?”

 She considers that. Olwyn’s wanted kids and Kel has too, and as big as this is… well…

 “We got a bargain,” she finally says. “Two kids for one pregnancy. What a steal!”

 Olwyn lets out a breath, and Lensa snorts at her. Kel leans her head against her wife’s, and stares at the weird little screen blobs.

 She can do this.

 They can do this.

[scurvgirl]

♥: Reacting to the other one crying about something, for Beauty and Marassal because I love them so much, best buds for life.

….I got carried away with this. Warnings for descriptions of a panic attack and a natural disaster. Note, because I’m not cruel, Darla is not dead. Also, if this doesn’t fit into any plans, feel to just view this as an AU. 

Marassal sips his peppermint tea leisurely, letting it warmhim and calm him. The anxiety of preparing his district for the lady Fen’Sulahn’smother’s visit has been weighing heavily on him and this is the first time inover two months he has been able to simply sit down and take a minute forhimself. Everything must be perfect, there are rumors that Fen’Sulahn and Mythalhave not exactly been seeing eye-to-eye on some matter, and the tension hasinevitably filtered down into the lower ranks.

Hence Marassal’s need for peppermint tea.

He is only halfway through his cup when the ground begins toshake violently. Marassal stands quickly despite the shifting earth and usherspeople inside, grabbing several guards to help him create a stable barrier. Achild starts to cry, clinging to her mother’s skirts as the building aroundthem heaves violently. The ground itself moves and breaks in the street, peoplescream and run in all directions. Barriers go up, the alarm goes off, and inthe distance, he sees a building slowly descend. Dust floods the streets whilethe ground continues to convulse.

“Are we being attacked?”

“What’s going on?!”

“It’s the Nameless!”

The people cry around him, and he struggles to think pastthe heavy drum of his heart. Think, think, think!

“Earthquakes can be natural phenomena!” He says suddenly,not entirely convinced himself, “there is no need to panic! Please stay calm.”He returns his focus to his portion of the barrier and tries to not panichimself.

This can’t be real, this can’t be happening!

As suddenly it started, it ends. The buildings groan at theeffort to remain standing but no tremors come after a long moment. Marassal andthe guards cautiously let their barrier down.

“We need to start evacuations to the main palace, it’sreinforced so you should be safe there. If not, there are eluvians that cantake everyone to other cities if need be. Everyone! Listen, we are heading tothe palace, it is not safe yet to go to your homes.” He catches his breath andturns to the guards, their faces serious and concerned. Questions start to fly onlyfor him to quickly say that he too has little idea of what has happened.

Could it be an attack? Yes, it’s possible, but it’s alsovery possible it’s just a natural earthquake. Could it be an accident? Yes, itcould. There are too many explanations to justify panicking about a singularone…but that also means that there is little reason to not panic at all.

Marassal and the guards begin the process of herding thecitizens towards Fen’Sulahn’s palace, collecting people as they go. He givesinstructions to guards, acting as their temporary captain as manager for thedistrict, and since none of them have received orders from the captain.

“Get people to the palace! Search buildings to make sure you’regetting everyone!” He orders. The guards nod and begin to go search for people,naturally dividing into task forces – mainly into rescue and escort teams. Thealarms are still going off, hounds are howling and some of the larger ones havetheir people on their backs, running toward the palace.

The little girl in Marassal’s group is crying still, even asshe clings to her mother.

Not much farther, thankfully.

When they finally reach the palace, Marassal quickly usherseveryone inside, commanding the guards to raise barriers up and to continue escortingpeople to the safest parts of the palace.

“Send word to Fen’Sulahn immediately!”

“I am here! What happened?!” His lady strides throughquickly from a wing and he bows fast before explaining.

“An earthquake of some sort, a building collapsed, I’veordered the guards to evacuate everyone to the palace and through the Eluviansto other cities if need be.” He follows her out to the great doors, stillshaking but he will keep with this, he has a responsibility. She nods and isabout to reply when another tremor rocks through the city.

“Protect Fen’Sulahn!” The guards call but Marassal isalready bringing a barrier up around them. Thankfully, the tremor is shorterand weaker than the main quake from earlier, and the palace, as Marassal had promised,does not budge.

“Good work. You! Gather my troops for search and rescue. Marassal,remain here and organize evacuation efforts, send people to other cities – but notto Arlathan! If this is Nameless, they will be searching for a way to Arlathan!To smaller cities.”

“My lady, it is not safe for you here,” one of the guardsprotests.

“I have been on battlefields much deadlier than this, worry forthe People, not me.” And with that word, she shifts into her great wolf formand runs down to the city in her own rescue efforts.

Marassal takes a breath and rushes into the palace, quickly prioritizingthose who need to be evacuated first. The little girl and her mother, he needsto get them to safety. He needs to get them allto safety. He sends each group through with two guards, making sure tochoose Fen’Sulahn’s lesser known cities, places where the Nameless are lesslikely to target.

More people start to pour in and he does his best to divvy everyoneup accordingly. The palace has four main eluvians, that means he can have eachone open to a different city for evacuation. He gets the guards to set up arotation and after the first few groups, he stops sending guards in, hopefullyassuming every is safe.

Another tremor shakes the city, and even in the palace theycan hear the groaning of the earth, the sounds of the city shaking echoes throughthe stoned hallways like a beast roaring announcing its arrival.

There are wards, weare safe, Marassal must remind himself, even as everyone gasps, a fewscream, many sob in terror. Stay calm,stay calm, you’re in charge.

“Stop! Healers coming through!” One of the guards calls fromone of the eluvians.

“Good! Everyone, hunker down for a moment!” Marassal shoutsfrom his position overlooking the mass of people waiting to be evacuated.

Healers rush through the nearest eluvian and Marassal pointsto where the wounded are being directed, half of the group heads in thatdirection while the rest of them head out into the city. Another eluvian linepauses while a contingent of troops barrel through.

Marassal tries not to think about how he hasn’t seen many ofhis friends. Some make sense, they’re most likely aiding in the recovery efforts,but others…

Where is Beauty?

But then the lines resume, and he is distracted by usheringpeople into the correct lanes. It’s mercifully distracting, even if it doesincrease his sense of impending danger and doom. He throws himself into the work,anxiety and worry increasing with time, until he looks around to see…no one.

“That’s everyone!” A guard reports after hours and hours ofwork.

“What?” He breathes as the guard takes Marassal’s arm toguide him through an eluvian.

“Those who could be evacuated, have been. Fen’Sulahn isstill conducting her investigation, it’s time to go, Marassal.”

“No, that can’t be everyone! Where…where…” but he doesn’tget a chance to finish his question as he is practically shoved through themirror. He reaches the other side, safely in one of Fen’Sulahn’s smallerpalaces in a city that is mostly military base.

His chest heaves and aches, his arms beginning to tremble.No, no, this is wrong. Where is Beauty?

After a moment, the guard taps his shoulder and he realizeseveryone is looking to him. Why? What can he do? This…he wasn’t trained for this! Crisis management is not hisforte, they’re all lucky he’s gotten them this far.

Marassal swallows and tries to calm his hands and heartbefore speaking, “Our lady is still investigating. I have no word of the cause.Everyone who could be evacuated, has been. We are to stay here. I…will – is therea city manager here?” He asks. His people need food, bedding, temporary livingnecessities.

“Here, sir, Hithril, here to help.” A robust elf approacheshim, and shakes his hand but he is so wound up he has trouble not jerking hishand back in overwhelming sensation. He nods, steeling himself to continue,even as his body tries to stop.

“Marassal. The people will need healing, food, drink, placesto rest –

“It’s already being taken care of; the evacuees are beingdirected to the great rooms of the palace and food is being brought up from themarketplace. The city’s healers are already here, working on those most inneed.” Hithril says, leading Marassal through the palace where people are beingdirected. The great hall is where most have been set up, while individual bedroomshave been turned into centers for the healers. The kitchens are alight withactivity to start creating enough food for the demand.

More time passes as he is thrown into more work of managingeveryone, keeping their fears and concerns low even as his own willpower isstretched far beyond his limit. Communications start to arrive with missivesfrom troops, reports of the dead, but so far, no foul-play has been detected,though the investigation is ongoing.

Beauty is not on the list of dead. A small comfort.

It is late when all the fires have been put out. No one inhis group has died, and word from the other cities reports the same. They’realive. They’re all alive. Good, that’s good, he can…stop. It is all he can doto find a small, quiet, secluded room before he collapses to the floor, greatsobs wracking his body. Breathing becomes staggered as all the fear and paniche’s been shoving to the side bludgeons him with built up force.

Marassal curls in on himself, terrified and paralyzed allthe same.

Beauty is missing. Darla, his beloved hound, was at thegroomers, getting shampooed and pampered. They’re missing and there is nothing more he can do.

The filth and the grime feel like they weigh him down,pressing him closing to the floor as he tries to reconcile all the fear in him.But it is time, not…not anything else that eventually has him moving to a moresitting position, leaning against the wall, crying instead of sobbing. Theemotions around him are thick and turbulent, polluting the entirety of theroom. It is better though, better than the immense crushing sensation he hadfelt.

It is, of course, at this precise moment, when he is stillcrying and a mess that the doorcreeks open.

“Marassal?”

That voice, he knows that voice!

“Beauty?” He asks in disbelief, voice cracking with his cries.The door opens more and yes it’sBeauty! With little Gra’Mi at his feet! None of them looking worse for wear,miraculously.

“Marassal,” Beauty says, collapsing next to next Marassal,pulling him close. Relief floods through Marassal as he presses as closely toBeauty as he can, burying his face into Beauty’s hair. He cries and feels, unableto disguise or hold anything back. Beauty just holds Marassal tight, his ownfears and relief mingling with Marassal’s.

“I was with Fen’Sulahn today, she had a meeting with hermother. I had to stay to placate while Fen’Sulahn returned to Adahlan. I couldbarely keep calm when I heard it was yourdistrict.”

Beauty is untouched then, safe all the way in Arlathan allday while Marassal fretted and stressed to get everyone safe.

“I thought…I thought,” he stammers. Beauty smooths Marassal’shair back, softly cooing at him.

“I know, I thought so too.”

Marassal doesn’t know how long they stay like that, holding ontoeach other simply to reassure that the other is safe and unharmed. Marassal isdusty and sweaty and none to pleasant to smell, but he is undamaged. Beautystill smells like his favorite perfume, his clothes are still soft, even ifthey are slightly rumpled form the day.

His breathing begins to regulate itself, his heartrate slows,and eventually, Marassal finds the ability to stand and move to the bed. Beautyfollows him and they end up wrapped together on the bed as well, unable to letgo of the other’s comfort just yet.

“Where’s Darla?” Beauty asks softly. Well, perhaps Marassalis not done crying for the evening.

[justanartsysideblog]

My heart was born out of the fire I lost love a thousand years ago And still, I can't find her Now I don't love like I used to Oh but I've got stories I could tell you, if I want to

- Dark Star, Jaymes Young

Felt like drawing some more Fen’Sulahn, so here we are! And animated this time!

[justanartsysideblog]

Old God, New Tricks

Old Dog Sanctuary AU

I finally managed to finish the first part of the Old Dog Sanctuary AU! I’m sorry this took so long, writer’s block has not been kind. This is mostly just setting the scene for what’s to come, but I hope you enjoy! 

This version of Dirthamen, Fear, and Deceit (mention) belong to @feynites.

Eda (mention) belongs to @palindromekomori.

Olwyn's alarm goes off at 4am and it takes all her willpower not to turn it off and roll back over. Her blankets seem especially warm and inviting this morning, and one of the sanctuary dogs is curled up at the foot of her bed and it would be cruel to wake them, wouldn't it?

But then she feels something pecking at her head and sighs.

Fear is not going to let her sleep in.

“I'm up,” She grumbles, reaching up a hand to pat the raven that's tugging on her curls. She tries her hardest not to disturb her bedmate—correction bedmates, there's two other dogs sprawled out on the other side of the bed—as she crawls out from under the covers in the darkness of early morning.

The dogs barely stir as she fumbles into a pair of jeans; one lifts her head, lets out a tired boof, and settles back down. Lucky girl, Olwyn thinks wryly, pulling on a pair of socks.

First things first...time to feed the dogs.

It's almost mechanical, as she fills food bowls on the porch, deftly maneuvering around wiggling bodies as the dogs crowd around her feet. The early autumn air is cool, especially this high up in the mountains, but nothing a sweatshirt won't fix; it'll warm up by early afternoon anyway. She administers the proper medicine to the ones that need it, and then heads out to the kennels to feed the rest, Fear flying overhead to perch atop the old barn beams.

Some days are harder than others.

The dogs keep her from drifting; from slipping into uthenera where she doesn't need to feel the guilt of all she's done and left undone. The world doesn't need her anymore, and it was getting harder and harder to keep awake. But the dogs help. If she does not get up in the morning no one will be there to feed them, or give them their medicine.

She needs the dogs as much as they need her.

And then, of course, there are the wolves.

Olwyn doesn't own the mountain, per se—such a strange concept, when thousands of years ago she had, and had no need for deeds to show it. She has a rather gargantuan chunk of land in her name though, enough that some would call it a nature reserve rather than a private residence. And even the parts of it she doesn't own are heavily warded and legally are counted as a national forest. It keeps the loggers away, and Haurshos keeps away the rest.

She's always felt responsible for the wolves, with the steady decline of their numbers; it isn't their fault they're associated with a disgraced god. There's a few packs in the area that she'd introduce to the mountain; enough territory between them to keep them all satisfied and out of each others' hair...and away from the locals in the towns on the eastern side of the Hunterhorns.

Not all of the wolves sent her way are those that can make it in the wild. Some were pets, or rescued from haphazard zoos and exotic animal shops; wolves that were raised as dogs until the owners saw that they wouldn't be cute and cuddly and domesticated the way they wanted, or wolf hybrids that people thought were tame enough to keep as pets, only to learn otherwise.

People know to call her when there's a wolf problem, and all the local vets have her number.  

The wolves remind her of Adahlan's hounds to a painful degree. They remind her of her Emerald Knights, and of their namesake that emerged when the Dalish held onto the remnants of culture that had been stolen from them through no fault of their own.

She tried her hardest to help, and failed all the same. At least she can give the wolves a fighting chance.

Olwyn steps into the 'wolf barn' and immediately finds herself the recipient of several enthusiastic greetings. Mossfur, the resident alpha male of the domestic pack, trots forward and gives a play bow, tail wagging.

Olwyn laughs, “Should we play for a bit?”

---

The first thing she notices when she enters the kitchen two hours later is that she's out of coffee.

Olwyn lets out a small, defeated sigh as she looks down at the empty coffee canister. She thought she'd bought some on her last trip into town, but apparently she'd forgotten to pick it up. This is why you should make lists, she thinks. Maybe she hadn't had a coupon for any at the time, and had thought she'd be able to stretch her stores until then.

The sanctuary is closed today, which means Eda won't be coming in. She can't call her and ask her to pick some up with the cleaning supplies she'll be bringing tomorrow morning.

It isn't that Olwyn likes being alone. She's always been a social person, and isolation can be suffocating at times. But seeing the passage of time, walking among those that live and die because of her own folly...that is worse. It chips away at her, bit by bit.

It's hard, especially when her brother sleeps. Isolation suits him more than it does her, and so does silence. The span of time between his visits varies, and each time a bit of her thinks he is not going to wake up this time. She knows better, of course. They are two parts of a whole, and he would not leave her, not after everything they've lived through and done.

Their brother is dead, Dirthamen would not subject her to that loss a second time.

Still, it is...it is maddening, to not know, even with either Fear or Deceit flitting around, making certain she has physical reassurance of Dirthamen's presence. But it is not the same as seeing her brother sitting at the kitchen table, clipping coupons from the newspaper as rain pelts against the windowpane.

Fear catches on to her thoughts, and lands on her shoulder and begins to preen.  

“I'm heading into town,” Olwyn decides, “You're in charge while I'm gone, Fear, but no answering the telephone, you know what happened last time.” Fear glances at her, the picture of feigned innocence, and Olwyn shakes her head as she heads for the front door, grabbing her keys as she goes.

She finds Hopper, a ten-year-old bloodhound, lounging in a patch of sunlight on the porch. His tail begins to wag when he spots her, thumping loudly against the wood. She always takes one of the dogs with her when she goes into town; it's a nice little adventure for them, to go somewhere new, and to meet other people aside from herself and Eda.

“Wanna come to town with me, hm?” Olwyn asks, and is rewarded with an increase in tail wags and thumps, before Hopper gets to his feet and slowly follows her off the porch.

“Here we go,” She lifts the old bloodhound into the passenger's seat of her jeep and gives his ears an idle scratch, earning a slobbery kiss in return.

The small town of Haven is a forty five minute drive down the mountain. It's got one main street and a population in the triple digits; she's lucky it's even got a local grocery store and a post office. 

It's become a bit of a tourist trap as of late, due to the old ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Someone had thought it would be good for business to make a historic sector, with everyone in period dress from the Dragon Age; it's a bit tacky, and more than a little historically inaccurate, but it means that every summer there's an upswell of visitors, and far too many souvenir shops. There'd even been talk of putting in a hotel to handle the growing seasonal crowds.

There are lots of things she can't get at the local grocery, of course. Supplies for the dogs, medicine, clothes...for that she takes a day trip to Redcliffe. But all she needs is coffee today.

So Haven it is.

Hopper gives a low woof and leans his head out the window as Olwyn pulls away from the house and down the long and winding driveway to the main road. Getting radio reception this far up the mountain is hit or miss, so after a minute or so of hiccup-y static she turns it off and drives the rest of the way in silence.

There's very little traffic this time of year, and plenty of empty parking spots along the main street. Olwyn manages to snag one right in front of the general store, and comes around to the other side to help Hopper out, and is greeted with another kiss that has her smiling brightly as she walks into the store.

The bell at the front jingles, and Seggrit, the owner, looks up with a surprised smile, “Serah Olwyn! What a pleasant surprise!”

“I needed some caffeine,” Olwyn holds up a coffee canister from the nearby shelf, “So I thought I'd make a short run into town.” She glances around and picks up a coke and a bag of barbecue chips before placing it all on the counter.

Seggrit nods, “Just be sure to steer clear of the main square on your way back, unless you want to get dragged into Grand Chancellor Roderick's latest tirade.”

Olwyn tries to hide her grimace as she watches Seggrit ring up her items. She and Grand Chancellor Roderick were not on good terms. With such a small community, it was very obvious who worshiped the Maker and who didn't, and her absence at Chantry gatherings is noted and remarked upon frequently.

There is also the fact that Grand Chancellor Roderick had strongly railed against her wolf sanctuary. He said it was too close to Haven, and that the wild beasts were dangerous and would only cause trouble. He'd cited several over-inflated and easily refuted stories of wolf attacks in Ferelden, and the rising number of tourists during the summer months. There'd been about five town meetings and several petitions, but in the end enough of the residents of Haven had refused to take his outcry seriously.

Olwyn has a feeling the majority of them were apathetic, and had taken Olwyn's side for the simple reason that she hadn't gone door to door trying to get residents to sign a petition for the local government to take action.

Besides, Olwyn has all the proper paperwork and licenses needed, none of the sanctuary wolves had ever escaped the grounds or had any reason to, and the wild nature reserve packs don't come anywhere near the local towns. They and Olwyn have an understanding, and the wards keep them as safe from people as they do the people from the wolves.

People can be far more dangerous.

“Who is the current target?” Olwyn asks, reaching down a hand to scratch Hopper behind the ears.

“Flissa,” Seggrit shakes his head, “He's mad she won't close The Singing Maiden on Sundays.”

Olwyn finds herself shaking her head as well. Chancellor Roderick can be persistent, she'll give him that. Still, she hopes nothing comes of it; Flissa always has dog treats to give out when Olwyn stops in for a drink. “Some people aren't happy unless they're complaining about something. Thanks for the warning.”

Seggrit nods as he closes the register and pauses, “Hey, when is that brother of yours visiting again?”

Olwyn blinks, trying to shove down the hollow feeling that comes when she’s reminded of his absence. “I'm not sure. He's been busy with his research.”

Seggrit shrugs, “Just wanted to ask. Last year my cousin came to visit for the summer and won't shut up about him. She keeps asking me if I know if he'll be back next year.”

Olwyn grins, “I'll be sure to tell him he has an admirer. See you next time, Seggrit.”

---

The drive back to the sanctuary is a little more lively than the drive down the mountain. Olwyn puts on an old CD—Eda has commented that Olwyn's taste in music is, to put it kindly, dated—and Hopper drools out the window, and Olwyn only has to stop once; a small herd of deer comes bounding out of the trees severl yards up, but she's going slow enough that she has time to slow without slamming on the brakes, and Hopper's tail thumps against her arm as his nose twitches and he watches the deer disappear back into the forest.

She lets Hopper down from the Jeep, and heads into the kitchen to start some much-deserved coffee. Fear is in the living room, watching reruns of an old tv show that Olwyn's forgotten the name of. Fear doesn't seem too interested, but when he spots Olwyn he flies to the counter and lets out a loud greeting.

“Just taking a small break before I go clean the kennels,” Olwyn explains, throwing a few pieces of bread in the toaster. She contemplates making some scrambled eggs, but decides against it. “Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

It's meant as a joke, so she's surprised when Fear squawks a yes and flies into the front office. Olwyn follows, intrigued. Fear hops down next to the phone, and Olwyn sees the answering machine light flash.

A message? She presses the button, and heads back into the kitchen to check on her toast. The recording filters in as she grabs the butter from the fridge.

“Hello, I am Keeper Deshana, of Clan Lavellan. I was given this number to call by Keeper Marethari, of Clan Sabrae. A wolf has been spotted within our reservation, and I fear it is becoming used to people and will soon come into contact with my clan. I would like to see what could be done for it, as it seems to be without a pack, and I was told you were the leading authority for such things...”

There isn't much more; a mention that Keeper Deshana is calling from a landline from one of the few permanent structures on their lands, and that she will be staying for several days, to wait for Olwyn's response, and the number to call to contact, just in case Olwyn doesn't have caller ID.

It's an interesting situation.

Lone wolves in the wild are rarer than most people think. They are pack animals by nature, and it is dangerous and counter-intuitive to their survival to go at it alone. But if it is the case and there is a pack within the area of Clan Lavellan's lands, then the lone wolf would likely be driven closer to the populated areas of the reservation in order to avoid an aggressive alpha. It happens sometimes; an omega wolf or a sickly alpha wolf that can no longer lead its pack may be picked on or physically challenged to the point of leaving the group. Especially when food is scarce, the weaker wolves may not receive adequate nutrition and leave out of necessity.

Olwyn has been able to...maintain a stable growth and weather pattern for the mountain to make certain her wild pack finds no reason to venture further toward civilization. The hunting is good, enough to support them and keep the population stable. But she doesn't know how scarce food is up north.

Clan Lavellan's lands are in the northern Free Marches, if Olwyn's knowledge is correct. That's quite a distance to go for a lone wolf. She'd need to have Eda stay at the Sanctuary while she was away, and the paperwork for transporting a wild animal over that many borders...the best way to go about it would be by boat, but Kirkwall is a city Olwyn would rather not visit anymore than she has to.

No need to make plans yet, you need to call Keeper Deshana first and see the scale of the problem, she thinks, picking up the phone.

Fear gives an encouraging caw.

Well, no harm can come from a phone call.

---

[justanartsysideblog]

So some of Fen'sulahn's followers have birds instead of dogs. Are there any other odd creature friends? Most of the dogs are made by Ghila'nain, right? Does that mean Fen'sulahn gets along with her? Or did she just make the first few and then some of Fen'sulahn's followers took it over?

Fen’Sulahn and Ghilan’nain get along very well in this au! She is be far one of Olwyn’s favorites to visit, because Ghilan’nain strives to move forward, and as a former spirit of Determination that is really Olwyn’s goal too. The two don’t always see eye to eye on exactly what it means to guide the People to further greatness, but at least they’re headed in the same direction.

But yes, Ghilan’nain made the first few, and then Fen’Sulahn’s kennel-masters took over, so most of the newer hounds are created or bred in Adahlan. Ghilan’nain still sends Fen’Sulahn certain spirit shards or creatures she thinks that Fen’Sulahn could use, for future favors. Adahlan’s chief river, for example, has been stocked with some amazing fish that can withstand the dyes from Adahlan’s textile industry, and actually take on the colors of the dyes and are really beautiful to see swimming beneath the clear water.

Any follower with a non-hound is definitely a rarity, and usually came across their companion by different means (such as Thenvunin and Screecher). 

The hounds of Fen’sulahn are seen as a status symbol and a sign of favor from Fen’Sulahn, since she is the one that gifts the hounds to those worthy (this was at least how it worked in the beginning, but now more of Fen’Sulahn’s higher ranking followers are in charge of this duty, unless it is for someone who has done something extremely noteworthy).

So while some of Fen’Sulahn’s followers do have other animals, they aren’t seen in the same light as the hounds. More like pets, while the hounds themselves are companions and hold their own status. They can think like people, and are immortal like their masters, and form very powerful bonds with them that are similar to the emotional bonds that elves form with their marriage partners. Screecher, being Screecher, has a very similar bond with Thenvunin and is therefore counted as an unofficial hound.

If one of Fen’Sulahn’s followers favored a different type of animal and was in line to be bestowed a hound, they might be able to petition for a different type of animal instead. It would be considered odd and quite eccentric, but likely it would be done. 

Thanks for the ask!

[justanartsysideblog]

“Ayal, I thought we were going to be subtle at the party tonight.”

“Sis, I’m here to drink wine and look amazing. And I’m all out of wine.”

---

@feynites talked about Ayal just being a giant peacock like Thenvunin in ancient arlathan so I couldn’t help myself but draw them and their sis there. Ayal is such a dramatic elf, I swear. XD I’ll have to drawn them in modern clothes as well at some point. For those that don’t know, Ayal and Jelena are the children of @feynites‘ Kel Lavellan and my Olwyn. 

[justanartsysideblog]

Fen’Sulahn 

Working on some outfit designs, and this one is definitely my favorite for Fen’Sulahn. I think this is her go-to look now. 

[justanartsysideblog]

I saw something about it being your birthday recently? I’m sorry if I missed it! Anyways - I hope you don’t mind, I was inspired by that video you reblogged of the lady relaxing with her dogs, so I tried to sketch a relaxing Fen'Sulahn with two dogs. 

Hope your day is fantastic! ♥

(submitted by @empresstress13)

---

Oh my goodness I love it! Look at Olwyn with her cute robe and towel, probably watching Murder She Wrote with her pups snuggled on both sides. @feynites made the comment about Fear and Deceit taking the form of black dogs in this AU and now that’s all I can see. XD

This was a wonderful birthday present, thank you so much!

[justanartsysideblog]

Fen'sulahn asoiaf mash up? Thoughts?

Oooo interesting! As in, Fen’Sulahn/Olwyn were to somehow find herself in Westeros? That would certainly be a shock, and I’m not sure how anyone would properly deal with a woman appearing who acts like she’s the leader of some great nation and expects people to know that.

Her magic, especially her penchant for flames, would make her a a shoe-in for Azor Ahai, and she’d certainly be good at killing all those whitewalkers. Plus the fact that Fen’Sulahn, like all the other members of the Evanuris, can turn into a dragon.

I think initially everyone would assume she was from Dorne or somewhere in Essos because of her appearance and love of spears. I don’t think the whitewalkers would cause her too many problems, and Fen’Sulahn is the type to get involved with helping people so I could see her wanting to aid them. But she’d also probably really want to get back home and away from this weird place where all these humans age and live really short lives and are extremely cruel and conniving to one another. 

That is if her magic worked at all. If it didn’t, she’d probably have an extreme existential crisis and things would not end well for anyone. 

Thanks for the ask!

[justanartsysideblog]

Do Fen'Sulahn's people have parties when they get their hounds? Also, are bred hounds considered the same as the constructed ones? Is it different to get a specially-made hound versus getting one from a litter?

They do! Being gifted a hound is a great honor, so there is always a celebration when a hound is given to a deserving elf. 

There is a difference, yes! The crafted hounds are usually made to be made for war. They are fighters through and through. So the crafted hounds are gifted to Fen’Sulahn’s warriors, who are called, like their later descendants, Emerald Knights.

That being said, a bred hound could show itself to have the accumen to be the partner of an Emerald Knight, and all hounds, before they are gifted to their elves, are implanted with a spirit shard of some sort. This is what makes the hounds immortal. That process in and of itself isn’t what makes the hounds super intelligent, etc, the hounds are born with that, it is simply the longevity that comes from the shards, and certain personality characteristics. 

It isn’t considered “better” or anything to be given a specially crafted hound per se, it is simply that the specially crafted ones are built to fight, and serve that purpose more than others. 

Thanks for the ask!

[justanartsysideblog]

What kind of butterfly breeds has Lialva created in ancient arlathan?

In the Fen’Sulahn AU (which is her happiest one) she’s made several breeds all on her own. Most notable are the ones she has crafted for Fen’Sulahn and Dirthamen, as gifts from Sylaise. 

For Dirthamen she crafted poisonous dusk-bringers, which encompass many of his gardens and mazes. They only release the poison when startled, as it comes off the dust on their wings and is a defense mechanism. 

For Fen’Sulahn she made giant griffin moths--they are about the size of a house cat. A special fungus grows on their wings that is an essential ingredient in a healing salve for burns. 

Her ability to create such varied breeds has drawn the attention of Ghilan’nain and her followers. It is widely known that Ghilan’nain has hinted at having her traded, but Sylaise has so far not seemed receptive. 

Thanks for the ask!

[justanartsysideblog]

Kel and Olwyn Pacific Rim AU or Sports Anime AU?

Pacific Rim AU

(Oh man, Pacific Rim is one of my favorite movies, this is perfect. Kel belongs to @feynites)

Olwyn hasn’t been in a Jaeger for years. Not since the battle with kaiju that left one of her brothers dead and the other in a coma. Too reckless, Falon’Din had always been too reckless and eager to fight, and she’d gone along with it.

But Marshal Victory Elvhen has tracked her down, and wants her to rejoin the fight for Thedas’ survival...and that means getting back into a Jaeger.

With someone that isn’t her brothers.

It won’t work, she knows. Not when she can still feel her brother dying inside her skull, and the empty void where Dirthamen still sleeps, unable to awaken after the neural load had nearly sent all three to the bottom of the ocean.

But Marshal Victory thinks she’s ready, and he’s had her old Jaeger rebuilt, revamped, and refitted for two pilots instead of three, a punch to the gut and a reminder of her failure.

The world is ending...and she can’t deny that if she’s going to die, she’d rather do it fighting.

She looks over the list of potential co-pilots for Dread Wolf, and her eyes catch on the small photo. A name so long and complicated it barely fits in the provided space, too big a name for someone who is only about 5 ft. But there’s a determination in that gaze that makes Olwyn pause.

Kel, huh?

[justanartsysideblog]

♪!

I’ll do this for Olwyn! Hmmm, so currently one of my favorite ones on my Olwyn playlist is Rival by Ruelle.

The tide is high, it's sink or swimMy only rival is withinGiants calling round the bendMy only rival is withinI won't let my demons winMy only rival is withinI will fight through thick and thinMy only rival is within

[justanartsysideblog]

so you know how dogs just know if someone's shitty, do the hounds in Fen'Sulahn's territory all growl as Falon'din walks by? is Haurshos protective of her when he's around?

The hounds in Fen’Sulahn’s territory definitely pick up on it. Interestingly enough though, because of how Falon’Din is in this AU, the shitty sibling that gets the brunt of the hounds’ ire is Andruil. Falon’Din still gets an epic side eye and most of the hounds in the territory are quick to maneuver themselves in front of their chosen people, but they are in full protection mode when Andruil and her hunters come to play because Andruil and her higher ranks tend to be far more violent and willing to use their rank to be cruel. 

Many of those hunters have learned the hard way that Fen’Sulahn’s people and their hounds look after their own and very little abuse is tolerated in her lands. 

Oh yes Fen’Sulahn has to keep Haurshos and Falon’Din separated. It is why Haurshos is not allowed to come to the big family meetings, or when Fen’Sulahn goes to her brother’s lands or vice versa. Haurshos is always left in a separate room or building because he literally will attack Falon’Din the moment Falon’Din does something he perceives as a threat to Fen’Sulahn.

This happened once, where Fen’Sulahn and Falon’Din had gotten into an argument around the time she’d first gotten Haurshos and Falon’Din hit Fen’Sulahn and Haurshos lunged. Falon’Din nearly killed him, but luckily Dirthamen was also there and he and Fen’Sulahn managed to get Haurshos away and Falon’Din calmed down somewhat. But it was a clear sign to Olwyn that the two needed to remain separate. 

Thanks for the ask!