#in marcher fields

[recents]

im getting hypothetical war strategy guy disease from how on purpose badly the mage rebellion was written. they should have had that in the fucking bag. why the fuck do they need tevinter. don’t make it about forming a new state either. demand total dissolution of the circles, make the chantry the crown’s problem. they make it sound like half the common people have a cousin who got locked away, and the other half would probably change their tune when they see one of you bring their entire withered field back with a few waves of your hands. mages would be an economic powerhouse for the average free marcher farmer. now all of a sudden they’re asking questions like “why does the chantry, our only option for economic relief, so desperately want to control these people and stop them from doing this?” IN THE BAG! YOU SHOULD HAVE HAD IT IN THE FUCKING BAG!

[vigilskeep]

do you have any opinions/speculations about the potential for a succession crisis in ferelden? ik depending on worldstate there may have already been a mac tir and/or cousland holding the throne without incident for the past 10+ years w the last living theirin dead/frolicking through a field of flowers, but breaking hundreds of years of precedent like that does seem like it could kick up some instability, even if it was offscreen? and obviously even if alistair is king his womb is barren, so like, what gives.

oh i mean we’re definitely extremely fucked and there are no good options!

the theirin line is done for, for a start. even if the sole remaining one does become king, he’s a bastard with bad chances of having a child at all. his two known possible queens are a fellow warden—making the chances of conceiving even worse! near impossible, in his own words—and anora mac tir, who never managed it with her non-warden husband, and regardless of whether or not she is actually infertile as is rumoured, seems to be actively avoiding even trying, based on loghain dialogue if she marries cousland and her unwillingness to marry at all if she becomes sole queen

since anora and alistair are both unlikely to have children either alone or together, and a cousland spouse only lessens the chances for both of them, and those are... all our options... yes we will see a succession crisis in ferelden. it’s not a maybe. if anora and/or alistair clearly declare a chosen heir before their deaths we might be able to avoid it being an open conflict but whoever they choose will definitely suffer for lack of legitimacy

assuming no royal children, the only obvious contenders for the throne are teagan guerrin and fergus cousland, and any heirs thereof. both are alive in any worldstate

the guerrins are closely related to the royal family—cailan’s mother was the elder sister of eamon and teagan—and widely respected. alistair actually suggests passing the throne to eamon in dao, and he usually has a pretty good read for what’s reasonable. i don’t think this is a bad idea. on the other hand, teagan spent his youth in the free marches, and is headstrong and not particularly politically gifted. there’s also the question of his own marriage and heirs; since the epilogue slides aren’t canon, there’s no need to accept the one where he inexplicably marries what very much seemed in game to be an underage girl, but he definitely can lose his heart to a warden of any origin in like two conversations, and all in all you’d want him settled with an acceptable queen before we could take this seriously. otherwise we’ll just have another crisis about that. i mean, one hopes he’s married and a father already by dai for this to be anything. his free marcher connections might be a boon here bc i’d like ferelden to marry into them more

the couslands are second only to the royal family, and it was suggested by some even back during ferelden’s rebellion against orlais that bryce cousland should take the throne instead of the theirins. his son would certainly be an acceptable contender. fergus may not have any living children, but he has at least proved he’s capable of having children, which is somehow as good as it gets around here. he is trained as a capable leader and ruler, is very fereldan, and maintains good diplomatic relations with factions like the inquisition. the downside to this is that it alters the political makeup of ferelden quite a bit, in that the couslands have kind of survived as the only remaining family of such power by not trying for the throne. their rule would be even more absolute than the theirins because there would be no teyrns left at all to contend with it. someone like anora in particular would be very aware of this and also simply of how dangerous it is to promise ferelden’s future to him before her death. suddenly everyone would look to the couslands as the future and not to her

there aren’t many other options that we know of at this time. there’s alistair’s kieran, but i don’t take that seriously, morrigan would never allow it and a bastard’s apostate bastard raised half in the orlesian royal court is several steps too far. if connor guerrin lives and leliana is divine, assuming the ending of the circle of magi means that mages can hold titles now, he could be a possibility

it isn’t completely impossible for anora or alistair to have children, of course. if sole king alistair actually got around to marrying at some point, that’s probably the best chance for it out of the landsmeet options?

[mysteriesmuse]

Football Player Katsuki + Marching Band Girlfriend

Like all his stupid friends here, he met you at UA University Freshmen Orientation — Group 1-A. The same group of eclectic college kids that are around today all hanging out between the Varisty Sports and Spirit Teams. Still doesn’t understand how you all managed to be put together like that. Katsuki sees you regularly ever since then. Football Player Katsuki who sees you sitting in the university cafeteria sitting with Squeaky, Tape Arms, and Round Cheeks all smiles and giggles or all slouched and complaining. And on game days when he’s got the time he and some of the team go over and sit with y’all. Because Kirishima is real good friends with those two woodwind idiots— so Bakugou initially just gets dragged along. Football Player Katsuki Who always send a big wink and grin your way as he’s running through the tunnel before the start of the game. Who compliments your playing to the rest of the team and the compliments spread like wildfire back to your director and now you’re yelling back about “Katsuki stop complimenting my playing by name. Director Yamada keeps putting me on tunnel duty — at this point he’s gonna make it a permanent thing!” And Katsuki always shrugs watching the way you’re fighting a smile, instrument in hand, but he loves it when you do the pre-game mini pep tunnel thing with him. Always gets the chance to take a pre-game (pre pregame) photo with you. All color-coordinated with his jersey and your marching uniform. Football Player Katsuki Always standing on the sidelines with the other big players Midoriya, Todoroki, and Kirishima as y’all set up for pregame. The four of them taking the time to watch what y’all are doing — even if it’s the same each time. And if he’s part of kick off then he KNOWS he’s about to be running towards y’all as you scramble off the field. And he’s barreling towards the sidelines when he spots you in the crowd. Always making goofy faces at you when he slows down: big old monster hands and downright terrifying snarl of his canines and molars, but LIVES to see you smile bright when you notice him — fellow section members now knowing him by look slapping you on the lapels to grab you attention. For Katsuki to then mime a couple clicks of a paparazzi camera back at you. sauntering over with the rest of his team back to the sideline with a faint shout of “ — you looked good!” Leaves you with a section full of snickers and teases when you’re in the stands.

Football Player Katsuki who steps on your toes all the time for these dangerous and unorthodox training schemes that his denfensive coach Aizawa comes up with. Your director Yamada somehow agreeing to letting the entire defensive team zig-zag through the marching bands box-drill warm-up. Coach Aizawa doesn’t even regulate everyone to specific sections of the “drill” — which is what you band kids read and walk everyday. He lets the team run their laps beforehand to limber up and Bakugous sharp red eyes are always watching as you’re coaching your section on the whole drill. The angst on you and his friends faces makes him wince espically when the drills starts — it’s like a mazey hell of some kinda freaky spooky mind-control shit bc you’re all moving the exact same — and also not.

Bakugou’s a big guy — tall shoulders, broad shoulders, and pretty jacked — and so is the rest of the team. And Bakugou always ends up in your section of the drill: the team and marchers absolutely scared out of their wits. And luckily y’all have your stinking movements memorized for all these turns bc you always end up turning smack dab into his chest — at least once (and no y’all do not have instruments that’d be irresponsible on Director Yamada’s part) — and then being able to maneuver around him with a beaming grin and a polite little shove into a safe spot always pausing in chanting the numbers to say, “better luck next time babe!” 7- 8. And when it’s said and done you and his friends will skip over to him and Kirishima. All laughing and comparing tallies of how many people got in your way — and he can feel his ears steaming with the way you playfully punch his shoulder and say that he’s “always on your dot” whatever the hell that means. Football Player Katsuki who practically has your little band songs memorized for all his plays. And he makes a lot of touchdowns — always waiting on that delayed cheer of your voice coming from the band stands afterwards

— always looking up waiting for your delayed smile and wave, bc you were busy fighting down a smile while playing and dancing to the fight song for the touchdown he just made.

you, Round Cheeks, Squeaky, and Tape Arms always bursting into a song and singing your parts to some band kids tunes whenever some particular trigger word falls from someone’s mouth in conversation.

Like his number? 17? He can’t get past the Seven part because Uraraka starts wailing on an imaginary horn singing the low brass line while you and the two woodwind nerds start throwing down some funky dance moves.

and he hates himself when he’s taking a break on the sidelines and him and current benchwarmer Shinsou start humming some little ditty when Midoriya and Kirishima make a first down on the field. The two of them sharing concerned glares before staring up at y’all laughing and wailing just down the way. “We never speak of this again, got it?” “Got it.”

Football Katsuki whom you always pass on your way to set-up for pregame. The man always covered in dirt and grime with his hairband pushing back his blonde bangs. The little stereotypical thick black paint smudged across his face as you pass by him with a gentle little hand to the back. And he turns around with those red eyes accentuated by those big black smears and gives you a grinning smile. Always attempting to peck his gf’s cheek before you go into place and you always taking a step back with a teasing giggle, “can’t right now ‘Suki I’m in uniform.” And you love watching his nose scrunch and his eyes flutter open, lips still pucked as you blow him a kiss. The student going crazy because the camera man has caught onto y’all a few times. Suki’ always crossing his arms and rolling his eyes shouting “break a leg!” As you prepare. Football Player Katsuki who waits around with his mates before he sees you run over to him. You and your friends now changed into regular clothes and ready to head home and shower. After he’s just helped win the whole thing and you’re walking, stomping, staggering over to him in shambles and you come up and dodge HIS KISS??! Always whining and pointing an accusatory finger like “Suki’ you made my lips hurt!” And he’s always like baby how?? And you’re like too many good touchdowns. I had to play the fight song too many times :(

Has his mates howling!!! 👏 he just doesn’t understand :((

Football Player Katsuki who also makes that adorable scrunchy face of confusion when you flip-flop between telling him that’s he’s gonna help take the team all the way to the championship!! And then you pulling back with a fearful face and whispering, “but then I have to go to finals. I have to play at finals. I have to be on the band bus to get to finals.” And he chuckles and naively says oh it can’t be that bad. Only to get a genuine slap to his arm as you glare up at him “never say that again.” A dark energy he can only explain as marching band trama when he sees your frantic pleas of a text when he tells you he’s about to reach the point in the flight where he’s gotta put his phone up. He believes you when y’all show up days later at the venue. All smelly, all angsty, all hangry from the drive over. Has him cooing over you as you mumble and grumble waiting in line with an equally agitated Round Cheeks and Ponytail as the band waits for its 400 or so members to be given room keys. A total sunshine/dark cloud reversal. Always shakes his head at Dance/Cheer Team Friend Mina who’s already been here the same amount of time he has. Short pink curls bouncing over to ask how it’s been only to see everyone else with glare as if her cheery attitude is a death wish. Immediately cowering behind him and cooing and fretting over y’all band kids just the same seriously what happened to y’all? Doesn’t matter, y’all won’t answer. The band bus is still the band bus even in college. Football Player Katsuki who helps drive/walk you home afterwards again getting a flimsy puffy and chapped lipped peck at your door after every game. Being incredibly dramatic as insists he’s in “kiss withdrawal” when you don’t kiss him the next day because your lips are still recovering. LIVES for the day-after when you’re all better. And you finally give him a good fixing of those kisses he’s been missing out on. And he looks so smitten with all your invisible chapstick lip stains and little mosquito pecks; absolutely adorable. And you can’t help but roll your eyes when he pouts up at you, blinking those thick lashes. “Still in a tremendous deficit!” He nods eagerly as you rolls your eyes and start smooching every corner and curve of his face again. Laughing between kisses “seriously suki’ it hurts! you don’t understand”

you’re right he doesn’t, but luckily he’ll wait for his victory kisses. Doesn’t ever wanna put you in more pain after a game day 🥺

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Cartoon Movement

* * * *

A new way forward—for good!

November 5, 2024

Robert B. Hubbell

Nov 04, 2024

As we head into Election Day, I don’t want to tell you how to feel. Instead, I will describe how I am feeling. I hope it is helpful.

I am feeling confident because we have done everything asked of us—and more.

I am feeling confident because we have enthusiasm and momentum on our side.

I am feeling confident because Kamala Harris has run a nearly flawless campaign.

I am feeling confident because I know that women are determined to reclaim their status as full citizens under the Constitution.

I am feeling confident because Democrats have consistently overperformed the predictions of pollsters and pundits in every election since 2020.

I am feeling confident because pollsters and pundits have underestimated the power of the grassroots movement that has engaged tens of millions of Americans as never before.

I am feeling confident because of the professionalism and dedication of local Democratic Party organizations.

I am feeling confident because Kamala Harris has shown us a new way forward that focuses on the good in the American people rather than on their grievances and divisions.

I am feeling confident because I know that the new way forward that has emerged over the last eight years is a change for good that will persist and prevail long after we are gone.

I am feeling confident because I know we aren’t going back—no matter what happens in any race decided on Election Day 2024.

I am feeling confident because we are standing on the shoulders of generations of Americans who sacrificed their lives, liberty, and security so that we could arrive safely at this moment of opportunity and promise.

I am feeling confident because I know that we will ultimately prevail in the larger battle for the soul of America.

I know that we are not guaranteed success. I know that polls continue to show a race allegedly closer than any presidential and congressional election in modern history. I know we could suffer disappointment—but I also know that we can survive, endure, and prevail over any loss. We have done so before, and we can do so again.

In my moments of doubt and worry, I am drawn to the memory of 25-year-old John Lewis, who led 600 marchers across Edmund Pettus Bridge on Bloody Sunday, March 7, 1965. On that fateful day, state troopers cracked John Lewis’s skull with a club for daring to demand equal voting rights for Black Americans.

John Lewis could have given up when he awoke in the hospital with a bandaged and bloody head. He did not.

Two weeks after Bloody Sunday, John Lewis marched with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and thousands of others to complete the march into Montgomery.

Five months later, President Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

Whatever happens on Election Day, I am not giving up—and I know you are not giving up. It doesn’t matter whether we win a trifecta or suffer shocking losses, our work of defending democracy will not be finished. It never will be.

Yes, Election Day is critically important. But it is one of thousands of critically important days in the life of our democracy within living memory.

If we are fortunate enough to secure major victories on Tuesday, our reward will be that we get to do it all over again, starting on Wednesday.

Democracy is an ongoing, collaborative process. The good news is that we are working with one another to ensure that we preserve democracy for the next generation. I am honored to be working by your side!

Notes from the field (part IV)

Jill and I canvassed with Steve and Ellen Hill on Monday, covering 116 residences in Charlotte. It was a sobering experience. The areas we canvassed were economically depressed. We walked through some single-family home neighborhoods, where many homes were abandoned. Rental homes were dilapidated, with peeling paint and abandoned cars on the front lawns. But even in those neighborhoods, homes were being bulldozed at a rapid pace and replaced by two-story faux Cape Cod homes that would require substantial double incomes to pay the mortgage.

Especially sobering were the large apartment complexes that consisted of brick row houses surrounding a common area. The areas surrounding the apartments were strewn with trash and abandoned belongings left behind by renters who were forced out or moved on short notice. The bones of the old brick apartments were still solid, but window frames and doors were rotting. The residents of those apartments have been ignored and abandoned by landlords, the city, the state, and society. It is easy to see why some residents in those apartments feel hopeless and disconnected from presidential politics. And yet, we spoke to occasional residents who were strong and clear in their support for Kamala Harris and Democrats up and down the ballot.

It was disappointing that we were unable to speak to more residents. On the other hand, I felt that putting a door hanger on the front doorknob was a message to the residents: “We came to talk with you. You are not forgotten. Your voice matters. Vote.”

Jill posted a video on her blog that explains the technology of canvassing. See Every Day with Jill, Final Day of Canvassing: FOR KAMALA!

Concluding Thoughts

The astronomy photo below shows the Western Veil Nebula, a remnant of an exploding star. The early universe consisted only of two elements--hydrogen and helium, the basic ingredients of stars. On the other hand, humans are made of oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, phosphorus, potassium, sulfur, sodium, chlorine, and magnesium.

If the universe started as hydrogen and helium, where did the other “stuff” that makes up humans come from? Answer: From exploding stars. You are, therefore, made of stardust. Literally. Not figuratively. Not metaphorically. Literally. Nearly every atom in your body came from an exploding star.

So, as you anxiously wait for election returns, reflect on the fact you have the great fortune to be here in this moment because millions of exploding stars propelled matter into space that fortuitously, miraculously coalesced into you. How lucky is that?

Stay strong!

[bennetisaac]

ghost eyes marching band au bcus the first day of band camp hit me like a bus. if ur in any discord servers with me shut up you haven’t seen this before

tobias: drum major

nobody knows how or why tf he was picked. carmelo’s just a little shitty about it but he won’t say anything. Tobi’s movements are very rigid and sharp. he will NOT hesitate to make your ass run if you aren’t paying attention / doing the right thing. Before that, he played tenor saxophone / plays it during concert band. doesn’t have a cool salute even tho rudy BEGGED him to make one.

rudolph: gaurd

HE IS SO LOUD AND EXCITED. arguably the most enthusiastic person there. since tobias is too quiet, he helps lead the warmups. hes really spirited at football games and always makes the band bus to comps REALLY REALLY fun. he brings a HUUUUGE bag to camp so everybody has what they need. he plays flute / percussion during concert season.

emilio: bass clarinet

very strong clarinet. he’s a strong marcher, he just has to take breaks pretty often. he’s the senior that everybody is afraid of because he’s been doing it forever, even if it wasn’t at their school. he’s got perfect pitch and is not afraid to tell you if you’re flat. he’s that kid who’s REALLY good at his instrument it’s scary

carmelo: drumline, base drum

he was really hoping from drum major, but he still loves his percussion. he’s the section leader. they all fuck around and tobias has to yell at them a lot to quit. he used to be in the pit, but he likes drumline more. nobody knows if he’s serious about band or not. that kid who’s always on his phone. he’s the kid who brings a speaker on the band bus

EXTRA PPL

francis: percussion , keyboard

only really joined because he had absolutely nothing else going on for him. it’s also unclear if he’s serious or not. carmelo’s always out of place cus hes over near the pit talking to them.

dino: tuba

he’s arguably the best brass player they have.

mattias: percussion , guitar

he was only needed for this show in particular because there was a guitar solo in it, and Tobias volunteered him. he loves band a lot and thinks the people are fun. tried to march once and almost immediately hit the blacktop.

adam: drumline, snare drum

was forced into joining early by rudy, actually really loves it. has become carmelo’s “favorite newbie”

VARIOUS HC

tobias throws chalk at peoples heads to keep them focused.

speaking of chalk, they almost got it taken because carmelo / his percussion friends all went around getting their hands covered in the chalk and slapping their friends asses (specifically black shorts) to leave white hand prints on them. carmelo promptly got chased around the field by rudolph

phillippa is 10000% a band mom. she volunteers for everything she ever can. people have started calling her mom or mama phillippa

tobias has the entire score memorized and WILL call you out by name if you fuck it up

rudolph is the biggest advocate for the guard to ever exist. “we should eat first because we have to do makeup before the competition!!!”

[buttsonthebeach]

Anywhere But Home

Back to writing Solavellan angst and it feels so goooood

Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas (past); Marian Hawke x Merrill (past)

Rating: M for Mature - sexual themes and images

Triggers and Spoilers: Hawke is lost in the Fade; spoilers for Tevinter Nights

Summary: Nine years post-Trespasser, Ellana tries her best to move on.

His name was Varlan and Ellana hadn't seen him since the summer before she became Inquisitor, and when she slept with him, what she was really doing was slipping into an old self to see if it still fit, like the person she had been that summer was an old pair of trousers in the back of a drawer. She'd just forgotten about her. She could try her on again.

He wasn't an Inquisition agent - because of course she couldn't even dream of sleeping with any of them. And he wasn't some hero worshipper fascinated with the myth of her - because every one of them that had approached her since she became Inquisitor made her skin crawl. He wasn't a nobleman whose aims and ends she couldn't trust.

He was just Varlan of Clan Alvar, and they happened to be at the same inn, each passing through on their way to somewhere else. Her to Kirkwall. Him back to his clan.

“Ellana?”

And it was probably the fact that he said her name. It startled her at first - she was tying up her horse at the hitching post and he was just passing by, her hood was still mostly up, she was traveling alone, she was so used to being called Inquisitor or my lady. But then she saw him, recognized him, and it felt good. Just Ellana.

Clan Lavellan and Clan Alvar were close, both Marcher clans that overlapped in their roaming a few times each year, making him one of those people she couldn't actually remember meeting for the first time. He'd just been there. They'd slept together twice before, the last time being that summer before she left for the Conclave, twelve years ago now. So she could know, after passing a flask of whiskey back once or twice while reminiscing about old times in the room she let, that he really wanted to sleep with her for old time's sake and nothing more. She didn't take him up there with that intention - not really - but when it happened, she wasn't sorry.

Dorian had been after her about it anyway. Leliana, too. Gentle at first as the years went on and then more direct, he can't have been that good of a lay morphing into it's been 5 years and you deserve happiness, you know. Ellana, don't you think it's time to…? Maybe this would appease them.

And the first kiss did take her breath away. Not because she was in love with Varlan but because it had been nine years now since someone kissed her. His skin on her skin was exhilarating and too much - she kept her shirt on the whole time, and so did he. And gods it did feel good, it did, the weight of him -

“I'm clean,” he murmured. “If you wanted to…?”

“Me too,” she said, and it hurt even though it shouldn't. She knew she was clean because it had been eleven years since she lay with anyone. “I do.”

“Do you take a brew or should I…?”

That question hurt the worst somehow. She had just turned 39. And there was a part of her that wanted to lie, to not take her brew after he left (because he would leave), because she was getting older, and maybe this was her last chance -

“I do, but maybe to be extra safe…?”

“Of course.”

And gods it was good to feel him move in her, it was familiar, the roll of her hips and the delicious tension in her muscles and yes, it was her first time doing this since the loss of her left arm, but she could almost ignore that. Could almost pretend it was summer, an open field, stars above, and she was just herself. She'd go back to the circle of aravels after this. Restring her bow. Breathe in the woodsmoke. Hunt in the morning.

“I'm glad the gods brought us back together,” he said before he left. “And that they have kept you safe.”

She was sure he didn't intend the words to be cruel. But Halamshiral’s hallways echoed in her mind all the time now, and instantly she analyzed it. He did not ask about the vallaslin. She considered it a blessing. Perhaps he knew? Word had spread through the clans. But he still believed in the gods, still thought they kept her safe. So he knew and still believed?

Why was he conveniently at the same inn as her, at the same time, why had the conversation gone so easily, why had they slipped so easily into old familiar ways?

She banished the thoughts. It was fine. This was fine. She had moved on. She could move on. She carried on to Kirkwall, got settled in to her estate, had dinner with Merrill. Tried to stay in the same skin she'd found briefly with Varlan. Back to Ellana, just Ellana.

“About time!” Dorian said when she called. “Now, perhaps Mae and I can start finding someone eligible for you here in Tevinter. Make me a list and you know we'll make it so. I already have a house picked out for you in the countryside near my villa.”

His words were so bright and so brittle they might snap if he forced himself to be any cheerier. Ellana let out a dry laugh, tried to come up with a witty reply, and found her throat closed. What did she want?

“So I can't just move in alone? Varric gave me a whole house and a key to his city without insisting I have a partner.”

The crystal crackled. She thought maybe she heard a sigh.

“Of course not. Shall I send you the contract? Right after I get this bill passed about elves being able to own property of course.”

“Ah yes, that pesky little thing. Tell me how that's been going.”

“Oh, my friend,” Merrill said that night when Ellana recounted the conversation. How she had not even been able to make a list of what she might want in a future partner. “I don't think I could, either.”

Because Merrill had spent the last eleven years waiting and longing, too.

But Ellana kept trying. What would she want? She looked around Merrill’s table whenever there was a group for dinner. Most of her friends were elves from Kirkwall's alienage. Ellana had always envisioned herself with a fellow elf - but that was when she was young and living with her clan, so of course she assumed she'd bond to someone Dalish. Did that have to be true now? She'd always been with men. Did that have to be true now?

She tried to feel a sense of wonder and possibility. She was arguably the most privileged elf in Thedas, with money, power, and connections in every country. She could envision whatever life she wanted for herself.

The sense of wonder never came.

But Charter did. Back from a teahouse in Hunter Fell, after months of searching and gathering information and coordinating a meeting between spies of every conceivable faction.

“I have news of the idol,” she said. “If you wanted to go get Mistress Hawke.”

She and Merrill both perched, tense, through Charter's tale. It confirmed much of what they had suspected. It was back in the Dread Wolf's hands. That was how Charter referred to him the whole time. Merrill interjected occasionally and called him Fen'Harel. Ellana pretended it was all a story.

“One figure comforting another,” Merrill murmured. “Mythal comforting Fen'Harel himself, if his tales of being her right hand are to be believed? I am more certain now than ever that it was a tool of Arlathan that was blighted, like my eluvian. Perhaps related like the arulin'holm, something used in rituals of creation, lyrium stored directly within to power the spells? One of the implements he used to create the Veil? I never laid hands on it myself. I didn't go into the Deep Roads with Marian, and the fight with Meredith - it was not my focus. I wish I'd had time to see it, study it…”

“That window has certainly closed,” Charter said, shifting her weight, settling into a stance, like she was expecting a blow. “Solas assured me of that.”

Ellana stood.

“He what?”

And then Charter told the end of the tale. The moment she realized the Orlesian bard was not Orlesian at all. How only she and Solas walked out of that room.

The untouched tea.

Her mind circled that detail over and over again until she could smell the fresh plaster in the rotunda, hear the caws of Leliana's ravens, feel the warmth of a hand on her back -

“So he still doesn't like tea?” She finally managed, when she realized Merrill and Charter were staring.

“No, my lady,” Charter said, lowering her eyes.

Ellana hated Charter suddenly. She'd been in the room with Solas. Close enough to touch. She'd heard his voice. Did he look well? Did he look tired? Did he -

“And - Inquisitor, he told me to tell you - that he is sorry.”

It was meant to be a mercy but it felt like a deathblow. Like bleeding out, lungs collapsing, praying there was a healer nearby, eyesight fading.

“Thank you, Charter. That will be all for tonight.”

He is sorry?

“Lethallan,” Merrill said, and let the word hang in the air.

“It’s fine, Merill. You should go.”

“Lethallan.”

He is sorry?

She couldn't talk about this with Merrill. Couldn't ask the woman whose wife she’d left to die to comfort her because the man who willingly left her had sent her a message via a spy, and it was that he was sorry, but he was still going to rip the world asunder.

“Tomorrow. Let's hike to the summit of Sundermount.” The words came from someone else who happened to have Ellana's own voice.

Merrill left. Ellana sat down. She took a breath, then another. She closed her eyes.

He is sorry.

And suddenly, he was in the room with her: Solas Solas Solas Solas. So close she could touch him. She could see him, the sadness in his eyes, hear the hitch in his quiet voice.

Tell the Inquisitor - I am sorry.

Varlan had been on top of her, in her, fingers in her hair, and he was not as real to her then as that image of Solas was now. As she sat there, choking on the unfairness of his words.

He was sorry, but he was still gone. And she was never going to be the same again without him. All the Varlans in the world couldn't change that. All it would take was one word, one dream, to bring her back to the way he looked at her, the way he shook his head, kissed her again. To come, while the music plays, dance with me.

Ellana went to bed and allowed herself to imagine that Solas was down the hall, painting. That she had called for him already, sleepily, that he said he'd be there in a moment. That right when she was on the edge of sleep, he slid into bed, threaded an arm around her waist, and kissed her. He would be warm, solid, large behind her, but he would melt into her too, lean his weight against her - each of them leaning on each other, sheltering each other. And as she imagined it, she felt it - wonder. Bright as midday sun.

She woke alone, flecks of red in her smalls warning her that soon another chance would be gone (even though Varlan had pulled out and she had taken her brew because she knew, knew she couldn't be a mother now, not now, not without him). She went downstairs, saw the letters that had arrived overnight, all addressed to the Herald and the Inquisitor. The final reminder that, Solas or no, there was no way back to that summer field twelve years ago. The world had destroyed Ellana Lavellan and raised up something else instead. Harding said it in the Frostback Basin. Once you are more than a person to someone, you're also less than a person to them. So there was only forward. Deep breath in, out again. Just keep going.

Merrill was already at her door, bags packed, ready for the long day. Smiling even though her eyes were sad. The path up Sundermount felt longer, Ellana's footsteps heavier than usual. She could go anywhere she wanted but home, could have her choice of lovers but not the man she loved. Everyone knew her name but she hardly knew herself anymore, some days.

But then they were at the summit, looking out over Kirkwall and the sea, and if her footsteps didn't feel any lighter, she at least felt equal to their weight again.

“Varric will want to know about the idol,” Merrill said at last.

“Yes. I'll go see him tomorrow. I think he'll be even more involved now that we know for sure Solas has it. It will be even more personal.”

“You are his friend. It has been personal from the beginning.”

Ellana sighed. There were ships out on the sea. What if Solas was on one of them?

“I wish it was only about duty. Only about serving Thedas. For all of us.”

“Would you really wish that you had never met Solas? Never loved him?”

I felt the world change.

“No.”

“It's a good thing he is sorry. That means there is hope.”

A bitter laugh rose in Ellana's throat but she swallowed it down. Hope was a meager thing to live on, year in and year out. But Merrill knew that better than anyone.

“Yes. There is hope.”

They sat up there, breathing hope in and out together, and then they carried it back with them to Kirkwall.

[esmestarz]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ INTRO ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

about me ─ ★

she/her

infp

bisexual

i can play on the electric guitar and piano !!

i used to do ballet but now i do belly dancing

i love listening to music esp rap, metal (any type tbfr) and rock, my fav animal is a cat and I'm pretty sure that's it

stuff ─ ★

if you want me to write for a character that isn't on the list feel free to ask me and I'll write for them if possible <3

i will write smut, fem reader, gn reader, platonic and romantic relationships

i will not write rape, incest, gore, gang bang, male reader, gn reader, character x character, character x oc, poly relationships, specified race reader, trans reader since idk how to portray them

what and who i write for ─ 𐙚⋅˚₊‧

MOVIES ─ ★

black swan

- nina sayers

- lily

harry potter

- hermione granger

- harry potter

- draco malfoy

- luna lovegod

- ron weasley

- theodore nott

- tom riddle

scream

- tatum riley

- sidney prescott

- billy loomis

- stu marcher

- samantha carpenter

- tara carpenter

- amber freeman

- anika kayko

- ethan landry

- gale weathers

- jill roberts

- kirby reed

- chad meeks-martin

- mindy meeks-martin

SERIES ─ ★

pretty little liars

- emily fields

- alison dilaurentis

- hanna marin

- spencer hastings

outerbanks

- rafe cameron

- sarah cameron

- jj maybanks

- kiara carrera

- pope heyward

- john b routledge

the babysitters club

- sam thomas

- kristy thomas

- stacey mcgill

- claudia kishi

- dawn schafer

malcolm in the middle

- malcolm wilkerson

- reese wilkerson

- francis wilkerson

KDRAMA ─ ★

all of us are dead

- choi nam-ra

- lee su-hyeok

- lee cheong-san

- lee na-yeon

- nam on-jo

sweet home

- yoon ji-su

- lee eun-yoo

- cha hyun-soo

KPOP ─ ★

aespa

- karina

- winter

- ningning

- giselle

twice

- nayeon

- chaeyoung

- momo

- mina

- sana

- jihyo

- dahyun

- jeongyeon

- tzuyu

le sserafim

- sakura

- yunjin

- chaewon

- kazuha

- eunchae

gidle

- soyeon

- minnie

- shuhua

- miyeon

- yuqi

nmixx

- sullyoon

- lily

- kyujin

- haewon

- jiwoo

- bae

new jeans

- danielle

- haerin

- minji

- hyein

- hanni

GAMES ─ ★

the last of us

- ellie williams

fatal frame

- yuri kozukata

- rui kagamiya

cry of fear

- simon henriksson

resident evil

- leon s kennedy

- jill valentine

- ada wong

- claire redfield

- bela dimitrescu

genshin impact

- kinich

- xiao

- aether

- kazuha

- scaramouche

- cyno

- heizou

- thoma

honkai star rail

- argenti

- aventurine

- blade

- dan heng

- gepard

- sunday

ANIME ─ ★

jujutsu kaisen

- megumi fushiguro

- gojo satoru

- yuji itadori

- ryomen sukuna

- inumaki toge

- yuuta okkotsu

- choso kamo

[rrcraft-and-lore]

Armies of the Dead/heaven in myths and epic fantasy - and the magic horns behind them!

One of the most famous armies of dead soldiers? The Men of Dunharrow, the army of the dead from Lord of the Rings who broke their oaths and renewed them finally under Aragorn.

Let's do this!

If you're a younger fantasy reader, or more modern, perhaps your introduction to this idea is in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time with his magical horn that summons an army and legendary heroes to the field.

Some fans have said this is inspired by the Norse horn Gjallarhorn. 

This is the horn trusted to Heimdallr to be blown to announce the beginning of Ragnarok and summon the Norse gods to the "thing" (thing is used in this case legitimately to mean - meeting, assembly, folkmoot) - in a moment like NORSE AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE! 

This includes the Einherjar, the spirits of Norse warriors of honored dead who fell in battle and reside in Valhalla. But was there another possible influence?

Well, we know RJ was a Tolkien fan, and honestly who wouldn't be back in the days of early fantasy? 

So, what of Tolkien's ghostly army of dead warriors? Well, if you haven't read the books, you might not know that Aragorn too summons his army of the dead with a magical horn (cut from the films). That's right. 

You see, Elrohir (one of the sons of Elrond, also cut from the films) entrusts Aragorn with a silver horn to summon the dead with at the Stone of Erech to deal with them. Tolkien was a Norse buff and loved the old epics as well as poems. 

So he was likely familiar with the stories just like with Gjallarhorn as well. But also, quite possibly the Song of Roland (a French epic poem) in where Roland and his forces are ambushed at Roncesvalles and are going to lose. In final desperation, Roland blows the horn, and the emperor hears the call. But the aid will not arrive in time (unlike the films and more modern stories where the heroes do arrive to save the day - this is cuz we like the just in the nick of time trope) so Roland dies blowing it one last time to hard in vengeance his temples burst (and he ascends to heaven), but...Charlemagne's army arrives in the aftermath and scatters the enemy. But, are there other armies of the dead? In fact, yes. 

The Night Marchers of Hawaii who come with a warm wind, & the smell of sulfur, and the call of a conch shell to herald them. If you come upon this procession with torches in the night, and you are an enemy...time to RUN! Because if you watch them your eyes might be incinerated.

Then there is the Wild Hunt - a shared myth motif present through eastern, northern, and western European cultures. A ghostly army of the souls of dead men (and creatures) usually united under a leader (though this figure changes), Herne, Odin/Woden, Gwyn ap Nudd, Sigurd or Siegfried the Dragon Slayer, Theodoric the Great, onward. Now, they're not summoned by a horn, but in some tales their coming is announced by one.

Now, an Indian cognate of the Wild Hunt and warriors in the service of heavens The Maruts.

The number of them vary from 20+ to over 180, to even more (yay conflicting mythological sources and arguments in ancient texts and interpretations).

But who are they? Companions and servants to Lord Indra, Slayer of the First Born of Dragons, and lord of the heavens and storms! So, fittingly, these warriors are very...storm themed. Violent, aggressive, expert combatants armed with lightning weaponary, and golden chariots to fly through the clouds on. Their war crys and battle sounds are like thunder. Their blows would split clouds (sounding thunder) and would hunt the enemies of Lord Indra and slaughter demons/monsters.

Interestingly they are often associated as the sons (children) of Rudra (the Rig Vedic storm and wind god). However, there is another group that often gets that association (obviously so), the Rudras.

The Rudras are similar in (some) regards to the Maruts but not all. They aid Vishnu in his battles against demons and are clad in lion-skins, and wear serpents around their necks. A crescent moon adorns their foreheads, and they wield golden tridents and carry a skull in one hand they wear necklaces of lightning illuminated clouds (how's that for bling bling?), and are monstrously feral in battle. Lord Shiva can call them with a blow of a conch shell/horn. 

Their overlap, association with the Maruts is because of some etymology and shared functions as they too are a divine/spiritual/demigod group of heavenly warriors to aid the good and destroy evil - demons/adversaries, and the root word in their name means the roarers, thunderers, or the shouters - and this is also mentioned of the Maruts.

Are these all there are for legendary armies of the dead, of gods/heaven to be summoned to the field or aid? No. But, it's rainy, I'm a little messed up (mental health and meds), and tired. 

So I'm going to bow out and read and study for Tremaine 3 and leave this minor comparative thread here for folks into this stuff.

[lifeofclonewars]

Not a band kid but want to read the Marching AU?

Then I’ve got the post for you! This one! Here’s what marching band/DCI is all about in the simplest terms I can put it aka its time to channel my inner High Brass Section Leader During the First Week of Band Camp again. Also I'll try not to infodump too much, oops. I can guarantee it'll be long, though.

People who do know instruments and are looking at this for fun, enjoy. But be aware that I'm taking this simply so I may describe things in a way you disagree with.

First things first! What is marching band?

Marching band is a group of people who decided it would be cool to walk in a certain way so they could play their instruments and make shapes on the field, lol. If you've ever been to a football game, they're the musicians who go on the field during half time.

It has its roots in military bands, thus the uniforms looking the way they do and marching in time and always starting marching with your left foot. Bands have played for football teams for ages and the early 1900s was about the time they started to make shapes while they played.

Many high school marching bands compete against each other. Yes, there are even state and national level competitions! Other high schools just do "show bands" aka they don't compete, might go to some festivals, and are mainly there to help the crowd have fun. They also tend to be at least a smidge more relaxed than competition bands can be.

All bands involve a variety of wind instruments and a drumline. Many bands also have a colorguard and/or drill team that performs with them. More on them later.

DCI

DCI stands for Drum Corps International. A drum corps is a marching band with just brass instruments and percussion. DCI also has color guard members. Sorry, woodwinds. Specifically, DCI is an organization that has a variety of bands all across the USA. Throughout the summer, they put together marching shows and compete against each other. The season ends with nationals to see who did the best that year. It's an intense program, involving "touring" around to various competitions and quite literally eating, breathing, sleeping marching band. They actually have an age cap at 21 but if people, say, 22 or older wanted to keep marching there's the DCA which is similar but not the same.

(They've got a website and there's plenty of YouTube videos out there if you're interested in learning even more!)

Who's Who?

Band Director

The person in charge. They're the one that decides what the band will be doing and when. They teach music and marching and everything else in between. They delegate a lot of things to the band leadership (aka the people below).

Drum Majors

The people out there waving their arms. They're conducting the music to help keep the band together as well as marching at the right speed. They also help teach things and check that things look good. They don't march on the field itself, usually, though stuff they do can be involved in the show. The thing they stand on is called a podium.

Section Leaders

Each type of instrument is called a section. Section leaders guide the other people playing the same instrument as them. They will hand out papers, help demonstrate what the band director and drum majors are saying, run sectionals (aka moments where the band divides up into instruments to practice) and so on. They do a lot to help boost morale. Also, they're usually in charge of attendance, lol.

Squad Leaders

If there's a lot of people like in my college's band, sections might be split further into squads. In the case of my school, squad leaders help make sure everyone feels included. They also help pass out papers the section leader hands to them, run parts of sectionals, and help demonstrate. One of them will step up if the section leader is out of commission temporarily.

Marchers

A marcher is just another term for someone in the band who's out there performing. Since they're not, ya know, conducting with the drum majors or anything. Section and squad leaders are marchers with additional duties, basically.

How To March

Roll-stepping

Remember how I said marching bands step a certain way? That's called roll-stepping. Basically, it involves pointing your toes high so your heel hits the ground first. Then you "roll" your foot until your toes come off the ground. Repeat with the next foot. This is how bands can play without the music sounding like everyone's walking around.

Rollsteps come in a variety of sizes, the most common being an 8 to 5. That just means it takes 8 steps to get 5 yards, since 8 counts are common in music and there's 5 yard lines all over the football field. Roll-stepping also involves your feet hitting the ground at the correct time and on the right foot. Don't worry, it soon becomes second nature and you don't even have to think about it as you learn a new show.

There's also a fancy thing called a jazz run. I never learned how to do it in HS but I know it exists. It's a way to run while marching. Trust me. It's basically running on your toes and making sure the top half of your body doesn't bounce too much.

Where To Go

You might be thinking, "Okay, cool, I now kinda know how they march. But how do they know where to go?" Great question! Band directors have sheets of paper that are designed to look like the football field. On it, it has where everyone is supposed to be, how long in the music it'll take to get there, and so on. This is called a drill chart/sheet. These are given to the drum majors and section leaders as well, so they can help people find where they need to go.

Each marcher is assigned a designation based on their instrument. For example, I am T11 this year. This means that I am the 11th trumpet player. (For reference, we go to T39 this year.) The person to my right when we make a square might be T13, since they try to keep instruments in the relatively same spot.

That's not always the case, though! During our pregame show (aka when we play the fight song and the Banner and all that since this is a college marching band), I'm between H4 (H as in French horn) and R8 (R for trombone since the trumpets took T). So on and so forth with the rest of the instruments.

There's a sheet of paper for each shape made on the field until the entire show is clear. Marchers get a condensed version of this called a "dot/coordinate sheet" (since each spot you have on the field is a "dot" since that's what you look like from far away). Dot sheets only have your dots on them, though they do have how long each move is. You practice with help from the dot sheets until you memorize where you need to go and don't need to reference it as much anymore.

Different Directions

I'm gonna keep this one as simple as possible. There are ways to stand so you can still face front while moving sideways. You can also move backwards in a variety of ways. Some of these involve rollstepping while going backwards. Others involve being on the platforms of your feet. Either works, but it depends on the band director's opinion for which one a band will use. The main goal is to always face front, unless...

Direction of Travel Marching

Sometimes a move will be "d.o.t." (not to be confused with a dot). This just means that, instead of facing front, you face the directon you're going. At the end of this move, the marcher faces front again and continues on as normal.

If a d.o.t. move is particularly long, a single drum major will usually be on the back sideline to help everyone stay on beat. The other drum major(s) will stay in the front for when everyone moves back.

Music

Marching bands can play all kinds of music. I've done classical, jazz, rap, pop, rock, salsa, 80s hits, and more. Usually, you don't see a marching band have music on them as they perform on the field. At certain points while practicing, they will! Almost all music performed is memorized, but while learning dots, a marcher will have something called a lyre. This is a little folder that holds the music and attaches to the instrument. This allows them to write notes to help them remember where to go and when.

Basic Field Things

The side you're playing towards is called the front sideline. The other one is called the back sideline or back field. If you're gonna face the endzones, most band directors just say "face the endzones." There are also marks where they set the footballs to begin play. These are called hash marks. They're used to figure out where you stand, but otherwise aren't really relevant.

Instruments

Instruments used in marching band aren’t the same as the ones used for concert band. As I said, Drum Corps are made of brass, percussion, and color guard. Marching bands, on the other hand, also include woodwinds. The Marching AU is a sort of mix between both a drum corp and marching band organization, so it’s based on my experiences in marching band but set up with as much of my knowledge of drum corps as it can be.

In other words, it’s mainly based on what I’ve experienced but it’s only brass, percussion, and guard, no woodwinds. Sorry to everyone who wanted to see their fave play a woodwind in this AU. It's unfortunately not happening.

Brass Instruments

High Brass

High brass is called as such because they have higher ranges of notes they can play in the overall scheme of things. This is similar to violins, sopranos and tenors, and flutes, just specifically within the brass section.

Trumpet

Alright, we’re starting off with the instrument I play for marching band (no this isn’t biased, what are you talking about).

Here's a cropped version of me holding mine during a game day section group pic. Don't mind the scribbled out school logo:

Trumpets often are given the melody of the song, though they are sometimes given accompanying parts (like if you're playing a song that's on the radio that uses trumpets for small fanfares, you bet you're gonna be playing the fanfare instead of the melody for that song). Trumpets are easy to hear amongst the band since they are bright and high. I love it but some people are a lil biased against us because certain people really love playing high every chance they get.

Marching French Horn/Mellophone

Fun fact! I also play the French horn for concert band. However, for marching band, things are a little bit different. French horns, normally, have the horn face the back. But when you're on a football field, you need it to face to front. As a result, they made a type of French horn that faces the front to march with! A mellophone can also be used. For the sake of simplicity, they are pretty much the same, you just use different types of mouthpieces, amongst a few other small differences.

Bands who don't have marching French horns have mellophones and they sound very similar. They are good blending instruments aka they can play at the same time as a variety of instruments. French horns are grouped with high brass because they can play high, though they also could fit in with the low brass, depending on the song.

John Williams likes to use a lot of horn in his pieces, and not just as off-beats or long tones (what we normally get). Horn players like John Williams :)

Low Brass

Similarly to how high brass plays high, low brass is made up of instruments that play on the lower end of the range. In orchestras, instruments with similar ranges are cellos and basses. For voices, this is like altos and (also) basses.

Baritone

In concert band, we have something called a euphonium. It looks like a mini-tuba, in a sense. (Tuba and euphonium players, pls don't @ me.) Baritones are essentially the marching version of a euphonium. Or at least that's how it was explained to me. This is what it looks like:

Much like a marching French horn, the bell is facing front instead of a different direction (up in this case). Also, this picture makes it look small. It is not. It is twice as tall as a trumpet and twice as heavy. Sometimes they get the melody, but when they do, it can be tied to the rest of the low brass. They often play various accompanying parts or long notes.

Trombone

Trombones! The only brass instrument with one giant slide instead of valves (aka the button things) to press. They're pretty cool. Often, when the low brass gets the melody, these guys are loud and ready. They also play a lot of accompanying parts and long notes. They also have the ability to do something fun called a glissando which is kinda like when you brush your hand up and down a piano except it's a wind instrument.

These peeps also get to do something fun called a trombone suicide, on occasion. Don't worry, the goal is that nobody actually dies. It's just a cool trick that involves bending and twisting over each others' heads to wow people. I'm not describing it very well. Here's a link to CSU doing it about a decade ago to help: here.

Contra

The most massive instrument you'll ever see on a football field: a contrabass bugle aka the marching tuba aka a contra. These things are MASSIVE. Imagine a tuba. Now imagine carrying it all on one shoulder while marching. Boom. One of the most impressive things you'll ever witness and they're not even marching yet.

(This is the contra section from 2013 Carolina Crown aka one of the DCI corps.)

Many bands opt for sousaphones instead. They're the tubas that wrap around your body. Both my high school and college use them. But DCI uses contras, so this AU has contras. Go them! Much like the rest of low brass, expect them to be loud and excited when they get the melody. You can only play so many long notes before you go crazy. They deserve it.

Percussion

Percussion is split into two groups: drumline and pit. Some bands don't have a pit (like my high school). Most do, though, and we'll include them in this AU.

Drumline

For some reason, the most popular part of the band. Like, no matter what, if the drumline performs, the crowd goes crazy, even if they slept through the halftime show. Idk, it's odd to me. But drumline members are pretty cool.

There are multiple types of drums in a drumline: bass, snare, tenor/quads. There are also cymbal players. Basses are the only ones that come in different sizes. They also make slightly different pitches.

Drumline's main job is to help keep the band on beat and also to sound really super cool. They also get to do fun tricks with their sticks (or with the cymbals) because their instruments are attached to a harness that lets them use both their arms to play.

Pit

Ah, the pit. Sometimes also known as the front ensemble. The people in the marching band who are playing instrument but not doing any marching. Gotta love them. They play a variety of instruments you usually see in a concert band. Most of them tend to be mallet instruments (aka things like marimbas or xylophones or vibes).

Many DCI shows will have a drumline and a pit feature (whether or not those are separate depends) because they're that cool. Sometimes, they bring in instruments not usually used in pit for added affect like electric guitars or recorders.

Here's the Bluecoats pit performing off-field. It looks pretty much the same thing on field, just with the rest of the band behind them.

Color Guard

Have you ever noticed people waving flags around on the field? That's the color guard! That's pretty simply what they do: dance and march with flags to the music the band plays. They can also use a variety of other things like sabres (aka fake swords), rifles (also fake, lol), ribbons, hula hoops, and whatever else the color guard director desires.

Sometimes instead of a color guard, there's a drill team. This just means a dance team that may or may not use pom poms. Other times, the color guard itself dances to the music. They are given additional roles to unfurl giant flags over the band at times and add a lot to the show.

(For one of my favorite guard performances, check out Drum Corpse Bride by The Academy. Here's a bad action shot of it:)

and now, onto...

Uniforms

Most band uniforms are pretty forward, even if they have silly names. You always have a base layer. This is usually something everyone has access to, such as a band shirt (that may or may not showcase that year's show) and some sort of shorts or pants.

Then comes the pants. Fun fact! They're actually overall-like things, and they're called bibbers. They usually zip in the front and have adjustable leg lengths.

Then comes the jacket. Pretty straight forward. Zippers are often hidden and depending on how complicated the zippers and various clasps to keep it closed and tidy are on it depends on how likely you are to need someone to help you zip up.

Many bands put pieces of fabric on the arms of the uniform over the jacket. These are called gauntlets. Yes, like the armor piece. Vague military history and all that. All bands will use gloves as well.

Next comes the hat. It's called a shako and the feathers that stick out of it are called a plume. The plume is detachable, so you can wear the shako without it. All hair must be tucked into the shako at all times it is worn. Don't worry, there's an adjustable string inside to help it stay on your head properly and find the room for hair. There's also an adjustable chin strap.

Marching shoes do indeed exist. They have a rounded heel to help you (supposedly) roll step better. They're very durable since they have to go through a lot, lol. When practicing, marchers just use tennis shoes, though.

Some uniforms have capes that'll attach. Others will have shakos that look more like helmets than hats. It all depends! That's the fun part. Drum major uniforms will also look different than the bands' uniforms. Often, this is with the color of the bibbers, but not always.

Color Guard uniforms are a lot like dance costumes, in a sense, with leggings. They can also use a type of marching shoe or jazz shoes. Their uniform will either match the show's theme or look similar to the band's uniform.

This is the Sand Torrents' uniform. It's pretty standard for a marching uniform. If you'd like to check out the shako and/or the rest of the uniforms in this AU, check under the marching au tag!

Miscellaneous Band and Music Terms

Call Time: The time you're expected to be there. For rehearsals, this usually means ready to begin warmups on the field. For performances, this usually means in full uniform

Drill: When used as "the drill" this just means the show and the specifics within it. Could also be used to refer to the drill chart. It depends on context

Visuals: Any fancy stuff added to the drill. This could be lunges, dancing, horn flashes (aka moving your instrument to a different angle) and so on

Horn angle: Instruments must be held at 10 degrees above parallel to help the sound travel better

Block: To be in block means to spread out on the yard lines to go over basics

Basics: Quite literally the basic skills of marching. These can be used as warm ups once they've been mastered. They're used to help make sure step sizes are right, that everyone remembers how to do different moves correctly and so on

Slides: How you stay facing front while marching sideways

Cleaning the drill: Making sure everyone's marching is looking good and making the shapes its supposed to

Parade Rest: Much like military parade rest, not quite attention but not at ease.

Attention: Ready to play at a moment's notice. This involves the top of wind instruments being perpendicular to the ground and hands in position to play

->->->->Without instruments, attention is having your right hand over your left with your arms at a 90 degree angle. This is how you march when you're learning the show without your instrument yet.

Horns Up: Bringing the instruments up into playing position

Horns Down: Bringing the instruments down from playing position and back into attention

Relax/At Ease: No longer being obligated to stand at parade rest or attention. Do whatever you want (within reason... please pay attention).

Competitions: Much like competitions for other events, bands are judged and given feedback. Awards are usually given for best overall, best sound, best marching, best drumline, and best color guard

Rehearsal: Practice time :)

Set: A lowkey way to call the band to attention ("You should be set"). OR the movement from one place on the field to another. Basically, a subset of the music

And that's everything! Thank you for reading this gigantic article of a post. Hopefully that'll be enough to get you through the Marching AU with some knowledge! And don't worry, it's not a quiz -- you can always refer back to this as you read.

If you have any further questions, feel free to ask! Whether as a comment, a legit ask, or a dm, I am always down to answer questions about marching band!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not confirming where my mom was supposed to pick me up?

To start this off, I (16F) am a senior in high school and the section leader of my marching band's saxophone section. I always need to arrive a bit early to practice and put in my 100% effort to be a good example for the first-year marchers and other saxophonists. After doing all of the work that I do keeping track of 7 people on the field at all times and counting and playing and marching, I can usually expect one of my parents to pick me up at some point in time at a specific spot. We always pick a specific spot for me to wait at because if I wait somewhere else, my parents might get confused and just leave.

At some point in time, my mom (43F) received an email from one of the other band parents telling her to pick me up at the PAC, an entrance on the opposite side of the building. Due to this, we both spent half an hour waiting for the other to arrive before I finally decided to text her. "Are you on the way?" I asked casually, in case she wasn't on the way and might be mad at me for interrupting a meeting or something. She responded by saying "I have been waiting out front for 30 minutes. Your brother is upset."

So, seeing her message, I walked to the front office. The school's entrances form a sort of compass rose, with the front office being in the north, the band door the east, the welding doors the south, and the PAC in the west. If I had known that she was in the PAC, I could have simply walked the short hallway from the band door to the PAC. However, she told me that she was at the front, which is how she refers to the front office. Upon reaching the front office, I texted her again, asking, "where are you? I don't see your car here." And she responded with "I'm in the PAC parking lot." So. I had to walk all the way around the school building to reach the PAC, and the instant I opened the car door, she began yelling slurs at me for not simply going to the PAC, which was where she was the whole time, and why did I not know that.

The reason I'm asking this is because she had a point. I could have asked anyone at any time and they might have been able to tell me where my mom would pick me up at. While she didn't tell me herself, I probably shouldn't have assumed that she would be at our usual spot, especially after seeing some kids get picked up from where she was at.

So, tumblr. Am I the asshole for not asking someone where I was supposed to get picked up?

What are these acronyms?

[elkieselkiewrites]

The World of 'Tupper's Tale'

The Kingdom of Aventir - The middle Kingdom, where our story begins, is sandwiched between the Western Reaches and the Eastern Provinces. The Kingdom consists of 4 marches: Westermarch, Eastermarch, Suthermarch, and Nordermarch, each ruled by their own Marcher Lords who swear fealty to the King who presides over the Capital Gildhaven in the centre of the country. Aventir is the economic and military centre of the continent, powerful and affluent, but with an pseudo-feudalist society that leaves many in poverty. The people of Aventir share many similarities linguistically and culturally with the Ostron clans to the West. The Aventir people may have been descended from the original Ostron people who first crossed the mountains, mixed with the ancestors of the Provincial Peoples and the Atlans from whom they first took the land.

The Eastern Provinces - Voila, Estiu, Coire and Curune. Home to the Provincial Peoples, the great Romantics whose poetry and music are famed throughout the continent. Much of the rolling hills are fertile farmland, growing grapes, figs, and citrus fruits, but especially in the Province of Voila, great fields of lavender. The mountainous Province of Coire to the South is famous for its hill singers who communicate through complex songs that echo around the mountain passes. The Province of Curune, by the sea, is the cultural centre with the ancient walled citadel of the capital city Adima, the shining jewel of the Provinces. The people of the Eastern Provinces are more closely linked to the Atlan people of the South than the people of Aventir, their skin and hair darker, their food richer, their language more in tune with their Southern neighbours.

The Western Reaches - Beyond the Aventir Westermarch territory lies the Western Reaches, home to the Ostron Clans, a mostly thalassocratic society. The Reaches are rocky and difficult places to live and farm and thrive, and the people are hardened by this. Most of the land is characterised by great crags and sea cliffs, with the southernmost stretches of land wet, misty plains, and the east lined with mountains. Most Ostron either herd goats or hunt whales, and the people are famous for their great longships, equally as good for waging war as hunting whales. Each clan has it’s own fortress and lands, but they fluctuate and the clans are often at war with one another. The most powerful clans hold the coast, while the smaller peaceful clans tend settle for what land they can get in the hills and wetlands. Though not the largest or most influential, the Ufarnan Clan have had a seat at the castle of Menahal consecutively for over two centuries, the longest any clan has managed to hold an ancestral seat without losing it to another clan. Menahal sits on a cliff at the northern edge of the Menawake, sheltered from the bitter West Winds and the Hungering Sea, but in an opportune position for trade into the continent due to its proximity to the largest break in the mountains in the whole country. The Ostron people are said to have come from a land far to the West that was lost beneath the sea.

Atla - The large group of free states to the South beyond the Atlan Gulf. The capital and central power of Atla is the city of Odeš. They used to live on both coasts of the Atlan Gulf, but were forced back South when the Aventir people moved in from the west. Odeš is ruled over by a council who have a permanent seat in the city. This council is voted for by the rulers of the vassal lands of Atla. Relations between the Council in Odeš and the King in Gildhaven are strained, as they are the only real threat to Aventir's monopoly of power in the northern continent. However, despite Aventir's military power, they could not compare in sheer size and numbers to the Atlan state, so a tentative relationship is maintained, with trade on the Gulf coast, and the occasional political marriage.

[dystopianlover1]

Haunted Houses

Picture this - your character walks into the house. It's clearly old, it gives them a bad guy feeling that they brush off as a shiver. They actually do shiver, but it's just a cold breeze from behind.

Perfect for a ghost story, right? But here's the thing.

It's an overused trope. And it can do with some updating, right?

While I do love myself some hundred year old history where someone died somehow and stuck around for some odds and ends, that could also not be the case.

Instead, look into different cultures for how they depict their ghosts. In Hawaiian culture, they have spirits that are called Night Marchers - warriors that roam the islands of Hawaii that are deadly to bump into or bother. They are said to have been the guards of chiefs and gods. Similarly, there are the rusalka that are from the Baltic Sea area, who were the spirits of children who were not baptized or unmarried girls who drowned, who reach out to people to drown them as well.

In any case, it makes it more interesting if you add culture to it, because there's a chance that your readers will notice it as their culture being remembered and recognized. I only mentioned two, but there are many cultures out there that have ghosts that wander more than just the old houses and grave yards.

Another thing to add to possible new places is war areas. There are many stories of the spirits of fallen friends appearing on the field, or even helping their surviving buddies out. You can explore that - maybe there's a ghost still out there in those trenches that nature took over, or the areas that are still affected by the war.

Happy hauntings, and happy writing!

[adainesjacket]

Good evening, beloved! Could I get "This isn't what family is supposed to feel like" with whoever you think is best suited to it?

pavus family trauma be upon ye!

@lottiesnotebook @dadrunkwriting

dorian/m!trevelyan, mostly fluff, set post-trespasser/pre-veilguard

Dorian is, he believes, the exact amount of nervous he should be upon meeting Seong's parents. Unfortunately the anxiety only creeps up from the moment they get off the boat, because unbenownst to him there's an entire progress they need to go through before they ever even get to the house. Seong appears to know everyone in Ostwick personally, and there's no end to the amount of handshaking and back-slapping and cooing over babies he needs to do before they can finally swap their horses and make the journey up to large house on the top of the hill. Even Seong looks exhausted with it all as they trot past (admittedly beautiful, for the Free Marches) scenery. The setting sun dusts rice fields and rivers with warm gold and the air is thick with perfume; honeysuckle and woodsmoke. Dorian watches Seong breathe it in and relax, and falls in love with him just a little more.

There are more people to greet when they get to the house; stablehands, servants, and an old white racing hound Seong lets lick his entire face. Dorian passes him a handkerchief and hopes his nerves don't betray him. Seong reads him like a book, as usual.

"They'll love you," he assures him. "They'll love you because I do. Because you make me happy. That's all they need. Come here, mon coeur."

"That's very sweet," Dorian replies, composing himself, "but if you think I'm letting you kiss me after that geriatric hound slobbered all over your face - Seong, I mean it-"

"Stop being horrid," a familiar voice says, and Seong is distracted enough by the arrival of his twin sister to be pushed away, laughing. He gives Viola a kiss on the cheek instead, and Dorian does too, relieved to have an ally. He's heard mixed things about the parents Trevelyan; the father, an ageing Marcher patriarch, the mother, a young peasant woman from Orlais. He has nothing to compare them to except his own parents, but while two cold, distant people might have raised an excellent Altus, he can't imagine them raising the warm, friendly bard he's in love with. So he has no idea what to expect, and he's all the more nervous for it.

They both greet him warmly, in their way. Armelle Trevelyan grasps both his hands and kisses him on both cheeks until he's quite pink, and Jong-Su Trevelyan gives him a handshake and an appraising look from under two rather incredibly bushy eyebrows. Viola informs him that's the warmest welcome he's going to get, in a hushed voice full of mischief.

It's an entirely new experience to see Seong at home. The scars and dark clouds of battle haven't left him entirely, but they've melted a little, leaving him looking, for once, like the young man he is. He teases his sister outrageously and preens for his mother, who is clearly delighted to have both her babies back under one roof. They are making dumplings, some family competition about speed and skill, and Seong is complaining that Viola has an unfair advantage "due to having two hands." Everyone laughs, even Dorian, though two years ago he would have winced and kept an eye on his amatus for the rest of the evening. He's come a long way. They all have.

Dorian is almost lulled into a sense of calm when Bann Trevelyan coughs and says, "I want you both home for Wintersend. Your sister's coming."

Seong lets out a groan. "What? Why?"

"Why do I want you home? Or why is your sister coming?"

"Either. Both. Ugh." The youngest-sibling energy coming from Seong was funny before, but now his father has gotten involved, Dorian feels white-knuckled with anxiety. If this had been Halward Pavus asking, no-one would have dared complain.

"I'll come for the annum" Seong proposes. "I don't know if we'll still be in the Marches come winter."

"You'll come for Wintersend," his father corrects him, and this is where Dorian holds his breath, this is where Halward would have raised his voice, his hand - "for your poor ageing father, who has done nothing in this life but love you, and for your sister who has not seen you since you were ten, and you won't complain about it, you little rascal."

Seong slumps in his chair at first, then perks up: "Oh, you mean Bora? That's fine, then. Of course we'll be there."

"Scamp," his father sighs, and steals a dumpling from his tray.

And that's it. No punishment. No guilt. No cross words, even. Armelle tweaks his ear as she walks past with her bamboo steamers and Seong does nothing but laugh and kiss her hand.

This isn't what family is supposed to feel like, Dorian thinks, astounded. Seong's hand finds his knee under the table and gives him a reassuring squeeze. But it should be.

[stormlit]

FIONN TREVELYAN

warrior. champion speciality, though really i hc him as being close to the 5e samurai subclass; a focus on resolve, fighting spirit, charisma, and an inability to give up. no templar powers anymore beyond some magic resistance. primarily a two-handed sword user, though favours swords with versatility.

youngest child of bann & lady trevelyan of ostwick. the Family Disappointment™️. nothing he did was ever good enough for his father and he felt constantly scapegoated. further compounded the Disappointment by being caught with a male groom, and was sent to the templars in disgrace so that he could be a Real Man (being a gentle poet who liked to sing and lie in fields was being Too Soft, but being gay was unacceptable) and live under rules that he wouldn't be able to flout.

his father underestimated him, ofc; there's always a way to flout the rules if you look hard enough. and he's very good at Trouble.

not a natural warrior but took well to the templar powers part of things. definitely gained lyrium dependence quickly. ostwick circle was quiet and had a good relationship between templars & mages. fionn had a "good relationship" with one of the senior enchanters, a man 10 years his senior called oisín, whom he fell in love with. fionn never really had faith in the right way, and was more than willing to smuggle letters to the kirkwall circle or help a mage sneak out to meet a lover.

after the kirkwall rebellion, ostwick stayed neutral, but fionn couldn't; along with oisín and several other mages, he deserted the order. they went to join the rebellion, but he really struggled with lyrium addiction, resorting to various criminal things in order to get his hands on some, and eventually being desperate enough to beg his brother, a more senior templar, to get some for him. anselm took him home, to his disappointed father instead.

marcher aristocratic rehab? not a fun time. especially when your boyfriend is loudly banned from seeing you bc your father's a homophobe.

being sent to the conclave is a way for fionn to redeem himself and his honour, and it's considered that a templar who supports mages enough to desert might have important things to say. his brother's sent to babysit him, and he finally reunites with oisín there. then, you know, everything goes to hell.

hello, survivor's guilt.

look, he doesn't want to be the inquisitor. he's not a hero. he relapses in haven as a way to deal with the grief. but it turns out that he's actually really good at leading, he can make those decisions, and that people listen to him, not just because of the anchor on his hand. it ends up being the making of him; his entire life, he's not belonged anywhere and not known who he is. he needed to be the inquisitor.

fionn is so charming, so friendly, loves a singsong at the tavern and has a tendency to gamble a little more than he should. he enjoys poetry and art and loves getting to travel; he's rarely been outside the free marches. it seems like he doesn't take anything seriously, but he cares so much and it all gets to him; he's lost and sad and doesn't feel like he has any discernible talent or use to the world. compassionate, cheeky, rash. he's what other people need him to be.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The streets are alive again. Banners wave, voices roar, and the air stinks of overpriced street food and righteous fury. America is throwing itself another full-scale political tantrum, and honestly, it feels like home. The Donald has barely been back in office for two weeks, and already the country is cracking open like a cheap piñata, spilling outrage, chaos, and enough executive orders to turn the Constitution into a bar napkin with “NO WOKE STUFF” scribbled in Sharpie.

The man is signing orders like he’s trying to speedrun fascism. His latest masterpiece? The aggressively named “Keeping Men Out of Women’s Sports” executive order, which is not at all a subtle title and makes it sound like he’s personally tackling trans athletes at the starting line. It rewrites Title IX into a conservative fever dream and threatens schools with legal Armageddon if they let a trans girl onto the field hockey team. Somewhere in the White House, Stephen Miller is probably jerking off to the printed document.

And then there’s Elon Musk. Because of course, there’s Elon Musk. Just when we thought this country couldn’t possibly be any more of a dystopian hellscape, Trump handed him the reins to something called the Department of Government Efficiency—which sounds like something straight out of a rejected 1984 fanfic. Now, the man who ruined Twitter has read-only access to Treasury data, which, according to the government, is totally fine and not at all a reason to panic. Never mind that the guy can’t run a website without accidentally locking himself out of his own account—now he’s poking around the U.S. financial system like a bored raccoon in a dumpster.

The result? Protests in every goddamn state. This isn’t 2017, with its polite pink-hat marches and Hamilton cast speeches. No, this is something darker, louder, and more unhinged, like the entire country just realized it’s trapped in a Black Mirror episode and no one knows where the pause button is.

In Columbus, Ohio, a woman summed up the mood perfectly: “I’m appalled by democracy’s changes in the last, well, specifically two weeks—but it started a long time ago.” Translation: The wheels have been falling off this clown car for years, but now the engine’s on fire and the driver is a 78-year-old man who thinks windmills cause cancer.

Austin, Texas, saw massive demonstrations, because of course it did. Protesters swarmed the Capitol, trying to drown out the Moms for Liberty crowd, who, if left unchecked, will eventually push for mandatory daily prayers to Ronald Reagan. Meanwhile, in Atlanta, marchers made their way from Centennial Olympic Park, probably reminiscing about the good old days when the biggest political controversy in town was the Falcons choking in the Super Bowl.

But the gold medal for protest slogans goes to Phoenix, where activists decided to cut through the noise with the brutally efficient “DEPORT ELON.” Say what you want about modern discourse, but that? That’s art.

Over in Jefferson City, Missouri, protest signs went after Musk’s government infiltration with the blunt “DOGE IS NOT LEGIT.” We are officially at a point where American democracy is being debated using the same terminology as a Reddit crypto scam. Perfect.

Meanwhile, in freezing Lansing, Michigan, hundreds braved the cold to scream into the void. One woman held up a Democratic campaign sign she had altered to read “Harris Walz Were Right”, which is the saddest I told you so in political history.

And what does Trump think of all this? He loves it. He lives for this. If there’s one thing Trump enjoys more than a well-done steak drowned in ketchup, it’s chaos. Every angry protester, every screaming headline, every panicked liberal on MSNBC is a gift to him. He is the internet troll who made it to the Oval Office, a human YouTube comment section with nuclear codes, and he feeds on this kind of outrage.

But this time, the resistance isn’t rolling over. Not after Roe. Not after J6. Not after four years of watching democracy dangle off a cliff while half the country cheered for gravity. So here we are, two weeks into 2025, and it already feels like we’re speeding toward some kind of grand national breakdown, with Trump setting fire to the rulebook, Musk fumbling around government systems like an overcaffeinated IT guy, and the streets filling up with people who have had just about enough.

How does this all end? Nobody knows. But if history has taught us anything, it’s that America doesn’t go down quietly.

[Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail]

[contreparry]

hello, happy dadwc! for a prompt, from the eerie autumn prompts, may I submit: (Lost souls) Wispy clouds over a full moon

I wasn’t sure if I should write anything Veilguard related because I hadn’t had the chance to play the game yet, but now that I’ve gotten started I just have to dig into my Rook’s backstory! So here it is for @dadrunkwriting ! Obligatory Veilguard Spoilers Warning.

It was a dark and stormy night. That was how a horror story began, was it not? She ought to bow to traditional methodology and nomenclature when working in unknown fields, and creative writing was not her expertise.

She didn’t quite know what she was an expert in anymore.

Elena Ingellvar, formerly of the Mourn Watch, peered out of the grime-covered window of the dingy tavern in a backwater Free Marcher town located just across the Nevarran border. It was neither dark nor stormy outside, though it was night. The full moon hung low and luminous in the inky blue-black sky with barely a wisp of grey cloud to block its silver light. The scene was almost… Elena could not think of a proper word to describe it. Enchanting, perhaps? Romantic? It could be, had circumstances differed. But the moonlight was cold and harsh, and she was not eagerly awaiting a lover to darken her threshold or whatever romantic wash the Randy Dowager wrote about in her serials. Elena pressed her forehead against the windowpane and sighed heavily. Fog formed on the cold glass, breath given visual representation. She watched the vapor spread out, linger for a moment, and then fade away into nothingness.

Anxious. Elena was anxious. The feeling was somewhat novel, though she must say she was not fond of it. She had little cause to be anxious before. She was of the Mourn Watch, and her business was with the Noble and Sanctified Dead. In the face of that great and terrible burden, all else paled in comparison. The concerns of the living were not the concerns of the Grand Necropolis, or so she had been taught from the moment she could comprehend words. She was nursed upon stories of sacred duty and care, taught how to tend to the Dead as she was learning her letters and sums and how to crawl, how to walk, how to run- the Dead are entrusted to us, Elena Ingellvar, and the Dead have given you to us in turn. All you are, you owe to the Dead.

Lies and rubbish, all of it. Elena scowled out at the world through the foggy, grime-covered glass. The Dead were not incorruptible. They were not above petty grievances or desires. They possessed the same foibles they did when they were alive. Sometimes they were even worse. When the Honored Dead threatened to overtake and overwhelm all the souls, Living and Dead, that dwelled in the Grand Necropolis, she knew action must be taken. Swift, decisive action. When the Dead leaders were caught in a duel to the undeath (a second death, a third, a fourth, killing the Dead was yet another avenue of research for members of the Mourn Watch), Elena saw an opportunity and took it. Waste no time, waste no effort. So, it was done. She led her raid on the dueling Dead and emerged victorious. Lives, Living and Dead, were saved. She did it for both, for all, all so the balance could be maintained, all so Life and Death could continue its cycle, all to preserve what her home and family was.

Others disagreed. A great many others. Important others, with titles and riches and grudges and many other things that Elena thought didn't matter in the Necropolis. These were matters that were beyond tending to the Dead, and her business was with the Dead. But the outside world and its will wrapped around her like a thousand stinging vines, threatening to strangle her. She left. Was forced to leave.

Myrna was kind about it. She helped her pack in the dead of night, on a night that was dark and stormy. She told Elena to look out for herself, told her that she spoke with someone who could help her navigate the world above the Necropolis and beyond the borders of Nevarra. There's a world out there that needs people like you, Elena Ingellvar- and there will be a need for you in the coming days. And these are people who can help- and who will need your help. They aren't the Dead, but they are in need. Myrna sent her off then with a map, directions, and a letter of introduction- evidence that you are who you say you are. Wait at this inn for Varric Tethras.

I'm waiting for a novelist, Elena wanted to ask Myrna, but she mutely nodded and let the woman pull her into a stiff, short embrace. Elena patted her back twice. Pat. Pat. Mechanical. Abrupt. Was this how one gave a hug? She hadn't been embraced often in her life- the Dead did not often enjoy being touched, and the Mourn Watch concerned themselves with the Dead, not the Living.

Elena breathed out once more, a short, sharp breath, and her breath fogged the glass up again. She should stop that. How was she to keep watch of the road if her window was fogged? She reached up to wipe away the condensation with the sleeve of her tunic.

"Planning to draw some doodles on that glass there?" A man said in a low, rough drawl. The voice was unfamiliar to her, naturally. She did not know many outsiders beyond the Necropolis. Elena dropped her hand to her lap, straightened her back, and turned her head to address this unwanted arrival.

"No," she informed the man standing at her table. Older. Short. Broad. Dwarf. Beardless (unusual, but not impossible) with a deeply low-cut shirt and an impressive amount of dark chest hair (was that the fashion of the day with the Living?). The dwarf smiled at her. His teeth were straight and even.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, though he was already rounding the table to take a seat across from her in the worn green leather armchair, the twin to her own. Or perhaps a sibling from an enormous litter? There were many armchairs scattered about the tavern floor, though she had taken a corner table far away from the light and the fire, the one closest to the window that overlooked the main road.

"I am waiting for someone," Elena warned the dwarven man once he settled into the chair. How was one supposed to drive away unwanted company? The Dead were not nearly so troublesome. They were quite upfront about their needs, though they were often confused. But back to the dwarven man. Elena eyed him cautiously, hoping she might spy a clue that would help guide her through this interaction. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and his handsome, broad face was lined with wrinkles. His was a face used to laughter and wide grins.

"And so am I! What a coincidence," he said. "Business or pleasure? And wine or ale? Wouldn't recommend either in this place but waiting without a drink draws attention, you know. As does lurking in dark corners." He lifted a thick eyebrow and smiled at her before winking, as if he was letting her in on some joke. But what was the joke? That she was out of place in this tavern? Elena knew that. She was out of place everywhere now, now that she couldn't go- couldn't return to the Necropolis. Couldn't return to the only home she ever knew.

"Business. And I don't drink," Elena said automatically. She didn't drink much. She wouldn't drink here. She liked a dry white wine, liked a little sip of cognac when discussing the finer points of necromantic duties with Professor Volkarin or Myrna, but she was out of her element here. Out of her element everywhere.

"Straight shooter, eh? I can work with that," the man announced, and he reached his hand out towards her, broad and calloused. "Varric Tethras. And you're Elena Ingellvar."

She nearly gasped. Would have gasped, but she felt as if she had swallowed her tongue. She could scarcely breathe. What gave her away? She wasn't wearing her robes or working clothes. She had put her staff away in her inn room, stowed under her bed and cloak. She carried a dagger and orb for peace of mind, but otherwise she thought she seemed normal. She even gave herself a haircut, because Myrna suggested she change her appearance to keep the worst of her enemies off her trail. Enemies. She hadn't thought she would have enemies. But she had been recognizable anyways, no matter how she dressed or changed her hair. If a stranger could identify her, anyone could.

"How?" Elena finally asked. She must rectify her mistakes immediately. Change. Cut her hair again. Or should she purchase a dye? Perhaps red was too distinctive.

"I've got an eye for people and nose for trouble," Varric Tethras replied. "And I knew where to find you. You did some big damn hero shit down in that Necropolis, didn't you?"

"The Dead were causing unrest. The Mourn Watch sees to the Dead," Elena replied stiffly. Hero? None of what she did was heroic- she never intended it to be. She simply saw to her work and preserved life- Living and Dead- as she ought to. Maintaining the balance and the environment of the Necropolis was her job! Was her job. What was her job now?

"Don't know what you know about me and my work, Elena Ingellvar, but I'm in need of someone like you watching my back," Varric Tethras explained, and he braced his forearms on the table and leaned towards her.

"A Mourn Watch member?" Elena asked, because it was too painful to say former Mourn Watch member. Varric Tethras laughed, and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened. But he wasn't laughing at her, was he? She had a feeling he wasn't. Elena didn't put stock in feelings often- too messy, too unreliable. But this was all she had to go on, the most stable ground on which to form her conclusions, and she would like to trust in something.

"Like I said, a straight shooter. No fuss, no nonsense, barreling down a straight line- a rook on my side of the board," Varric explained when his laughter died down. "Offer's open, and if you'd like a trial run- well, we can provide that too. Payment as well."

Payment. Trial run. Job offer. Games and boards and rooks- Elena shook her head. She needed time to sort through this deluge of information and sensations, but she hadn't any time to spare.

"I would like a drink. I think," she said, and Varric's mouth twisted up into a wry grin.

"That can be arranged," he replied.