#like never being able to question solas on his knowledge because he has to remain mysterious

[bhaalble]

been debating some Cole romance options so here's my rough template for how I think it would start. Long rambly post incoming

Conditions for starting this: While you have flirtation options with Cole as soon as he's recruited (like any other romanceable npc), the romance quest can't be triggered until you do his personal quest that either renders him more spirit or more human. Neither path locks off the romance, but the tone of the romance will obviously be very different depending on that choice.

If you HAVE flirted with Cole before that personal quest, there are additional dialogue options the player can have with both Solas and Varric pertaining to how this might impact Cole's feelings for others. Varric believes turning him more human will open the door to greater depth of relationship, while Solas is mostly just offended he was asked the question and eventually tosses out that Cole's feelings will likely be as they ever were, for whatever that's worth. The player is then able to make the choice as normal. In the next conversation after dealing with the aftermath of the quest the player is given a last flirtation option to "lock" them onto Cole's romance

General Route Knowledge: Spirit or human, Cole remains an entity of compassion. He knows he likes you and wants to help you (wants to help you a *lot*, he's confused by the way you tend to become priority on his radar when entering a room), and he knows that before your choice he could feel a lot of romantic yearning and loneliness inside the Inquisitor. However, Cole doesn't always seem to know the thoughts he's reading until after he says them out loud and gets a response, so I basically think that he knows you want a romantic relationship.

He just hasn't grasped that you want it with *him*

Human Cole Route

You speak to Cole and he urges you, *Really* strongly, to go talk to Varric. The next time the player speaks with Varric it triggers a cutscene where he takes them for drinks, theoretically just to chat. Varric seems noticeably uncomfortable and keeps asking you questions about your romantic life, what type of person youre drawn to, and really really leading questions about your companions and advisors. The player can either indulge this or push back on it. Either way, by the end of the conversation Varric mutters something about not being cut out for this, apologizes to the player, and then leaves.

This happens again the next time you approach Cole, this conversation a lot shorter. Varric seems to be inquiring if the player is attracted to *him*[varric]. The player can shut him down completely or ask if that's even something he would be interesting, and Varric gets nervous and tries to bail again. The player follows him this time and finds him talking to Cole, refusing to go back in there while Cole is pleading with him to just keep asking questions. The player emerges to ask what they're doing and Cole seems visibly upset, insisting that he doesn't know how to help without knowing what they're thinking, he can't figure out the kind of person who they want and he *really* can't figure out the kind of person who deserves them. He tries to vanish only to realize he cant and runs off. Varric encourages the player to follow and they have a conversation in private where Cole confesses that he just wants to help them and the idea that they've been lonely has been eating away at him even when they *aren't* in the room. Which is new and confusing and upsetting to him. The player can either tell him to stop interfering with their love life (ending the romance quest) or tell him that he's been mixing their signals up and its him they want to be with. Cole seems startled, but not opposed, deciding that this is another part of the human experience he wants to try with you. You are officially in a relationship with him.

Spirit Route

After you lock in the romance, the next time you fast travel into Skyhold you'll be placed inside a cutscene where the player walks into the Inquisitor's bedroom. Standing there is.

a.the romanceable companion you have the highest approval with

or b. if you flirted with either of them, Cullen or Josephine (if you flirted with both of them the game chooses between them randomly)

They tell you that they've been hearing rumors that you're romantically interested in them and came to speak to you about it. If you don't meet the race/gender criteria for the character's romance questline (e.g, if you're a girl who has Dorian in this cutscene) then there's an additional layer where they're trying to let you down easy. The player is then given the chance to set the record straight and asks where they even got that information. They pause for a moment and all say some variation of "that's funny. i can't remember who told me...." before leaving with some degree of embarassment.

The player can then go to confront Cole about it. He says something cryptic about doing better next time and then whispers *forget* before vanishing, leaving the player to look a little lost before going about their day.

The next time you fast travel into Skyhold you're met by the romanceable companion you have the lowest approval with in your chambers. The dialogue is a little different depending on if they outright hate you or are just neutral, but mostly they're still like. really. like sure it takes all kinds but I never saw this coming from you- and the player's like hang on. this all seems a little fucking familiar

So they leave mid conversation to track down Cole, who they find sitting in the battlements above their room, clearly listening, and confront him. He's about to wipe their memory again when they tell him it didn't work, and they remember what happened. This throws him off because. That shouldn't happen. That shouldn't happen why do they remember? Are his powers failing, how is he getting this *this* wrong its helping thats what he's *for*?!?! The player makes the choice that locks them into a relationship or end it here in that they can either

-say they don't care why its happened, but this needs to stop. Cole reluctantly agrees to leave it alone and you're taken off the romance track for him

-The player suggests that maybe the reason they remember is Cole secretly doesn't *want* them to forget. He wants them to remember it not working out even with the person they're close with. That's also why he set you up with the person you have the least chance with this time. he's sabotaging himself and you because deep down Cole doesn't want you in a relationship with someone else, and in his core he knows you dont want that either. This leads to Cole feeling uncharacteristically frustrated for his spirit state. talking about how he can't get you out of his head. Its interfering with his work and whats worse is that he's more scared of it healing that it hurting like this. He doesn't want it to go away. What follows is essentially

Player: so help me help you. It won't go away, but it might make it easier to deal with. For both of us

Cole: ....It won't be like with a person. Is that a problem.

Player: No. I won't be like a spirit. Is that a problem for you?

Cole, softly:....no.

After this you're locked into a relationship with him.

Soooo thats basically what I have for an inciting incident. More to come, the little shit's given me brainrot.

[thedinanshiral]

Magic, mages and more

If you’ve played the Dragon Age series you’ve probably noticed some differences here and there. Origins was heavy on tactics, something Inquisition lacks considerably, and Dragon Age 2 allowed for blood magic, which Origins had little of and Inquisition barely mentions. All lore aside, we can experience magic in Thedas more closely through our mage companions in each game ( or your character if you chose the mage class).

First, i’ll discuss briefly how magic spells have changed throughout the games, then i’ll analyse a mage pattern and how it broke. And finally i’ll entertain some future over the top possibilities.  

Origins and DA2 were designed primarily to be played on PC, and we see this more clearly on Origins through its tactics-heavy gameplay. Spells in Origins are more suitable to a carefully planned combat strategy, with passive and status-inducing spells presented in a variety that didn’t survive into the following games. DA2 also allows for tactics but the combat system is more dynamic, it’s not necessary to pause/unpause 5 times per second, one can do battles in real time and as a result spells were considerably reduced, prioritizing active/offensive spells, and almost entirely eliminating status-inducing and supportive spells.

Unlike its predecessors, Inquisition was way more console-friendly and all but eliminated the tactics system from Origins; now combat was fast, direct, with a tactical screen capable of basic commands and overall limited, and spell trees were reduced to the bare minimum, with elemental attacks, and very few defensive spells, having completely eliminated healing.

So, in short, summonings disappeared after Origins, as did most of the Creation, Spirit and Entropy trees. By Inquisition, none of the glyphs or hexes survived. Some spells icons from DA2 reappear in Inquisition, but most from Origins never made it past it, and some spells changed name or spell tree between games. There’s a gradual simplification of spell trees from one game to the next, adjusting combat to a more straightforward style, with less support or status-inducing spells and an increasing concentration of active spells with enhancing passive ones. On the other hand, Healing all but disappeared from Inquisition spells, “spirit healer” not even surviving as a specialization, with the only healing spell available being Revival which as the name implies you can only use on an already fallen party member. Surprisingly, Dispel made it through all three games staying in the same spell tree, Spirit, and elemental spells remained the same across all games, with minor changes.

Now let’s take a look at all our main mage companions.

In Origins we have Morrigan (apostate, shapeshifter), and Wynne (circle mage, spirit healer, vessel for spirit of Faith). In DA2 we have Merrill (dalish, blood mage), and Anders (former circle mage turned apostate, healer, vessel for spirit of Justice/Vengeance). In inquisition however we get three mages: Dorian (Tevinter pariah, pyromancer, necromancer), Vivienne (circle loyalist, icemancer, knight-enchanter) and Solas (apostate, electromancer,rift mage).

Just in case the pattern isn’t clear enough..In both games we get an apostate and formally educated and trained mage, a mage who lived in the wild and a mage who lived in cities, a mage who dwells in obscure or forbidden magic used for offense and a mage dedicated primarily to healing and support, a mage who deals in dangerous magic but remains their own and a mage who despite dealing in safer magic harbours a spirit within (by Chantry dogma, an abomination).

This pattern is broken in Inquisition; while we still get an apostate and a circle mage, we also get a mage that while not from the circle still isn’s technically an apostate (Dorian), we also get no healer but we do get a mage that specializes in obscure magic (necromancy), and we don’t really get a mage that has lived in the wild but one who’s lived outside of Thedosian society (Solas, being who he is and having recently woken up from the longest nap ever). And instead of getting a mage sharing their body with a spirit of the Fade, we get an ancient elf who secretely is an elvhen god and the creator of the Veil. Solas breaks the pattern (as well as everything else, apparently).  

I’ll focus on Inquisition from now on and leave Solas for last. 

Auto-level evidences the default element of choice of each mage. Solas is an electromancer, Dorian is a pyromancer, and Vivienne is an icemancer. Dorian preferring fire makes sense as a Tevinter who constantly complains the South is cold, implying his homeland has a warmer weather he sorely misses. Vivienne choosing cold spells goes perfectly with her personality, presenting herself as an ice queen.

Here is where it begins to get a bit tricky: Specializations.

Dorian’s is Necromancy, which would make a lot of sense...if he was Nevarran. Being a Tevinter it’d make more sense for him to be a Blood Mage. But Origins and particularly DA2 already exposed blood magic, painted it in all its evil colours, made it pretty clear it’s the wrong kind of magic to use for all the dangers it entails. By the time we get Inquisition, we face an actual Magister Siderial and Tevinter is painted as this degenerate empire full of evil blood mages, so getting a blood mage specialization was out of the table. Therefore our Tevinter ally got the next most questionable line of magic, necromancy. Because nothing says “almost evil” as raising up the death to fight for you and draining lifeforce from your enemies.

Next we have Vivienne who specialises as a Knight-Enchanter (KE). She’s a Circle mage, a Loyalist at that, and KE is a path reserved for Circle mages allowed to engage in combat when requested. But we learn from Solas that the powers used by Knight-Enchanters have their origin in the Arcane Warriors of the ancient elves. Vivienne has no known connection to anything elven, so her being able to become a KE is just another example of the cultural appropriation of elven elements and knowledge done by humans and the Chantry. 

None of the specializations are entirely new, as already stated KE takes from Arcane Warriors, much of the Necromancer tree comes from the previous games’ Entropy trees, and the Primal and Force trees lend some spells to the supposedly brand new Rift tree. 

Then there’s Solas, who is the default Rift Mage once specializations become available. The Rift spell tree is a post-Breach occurrence, as it was developed by mages studying the Breach and resulting rifts that appeared all over Thedas. It should have unique spells yet it recycles old ones: Stonefist no longer deals physical damage as it did in Origins and DA2 when it was in the Primal tree and meant hurling rocks at the enemy, but spirit damage as it now involves summoning a boulder directly from the Fade. Similarly, DA2’s Force spell Fist of the Maker and subsequent upgrades, Maker’s Hammer and Maker’s Fury, described as “slamming enemies into the ground” with some invisible force became Veilstrike in the Rift tree of Inquisition, there described as “smashing nearby foes to the ground” by “recreating your own fist from from the essence of the Fade”.

Knowing what we know about Solas, his specialization makes sense, he’s responsible for the Veil’s existence so of course he’d know how to manipulate its properties. He’s Fen’Harel, after all. 

Still with me? Good, because this ride is about to get bumpy.

As the default Rift mage he can use Veilstrike, recreating his “own fist from the essence of the Fade”,  but Veilstrike is actually a rename of Fist of the Maker…So what Solas is really doing whenever he casts Veilstrike is casting the Fist of the Maker. By recreating his own fist..It’s all in the name. Fist of the Maker pre-dates Rift magic, but its rebranding as Veilstrike is post-Breach and named after the Veil and not the Maker, possibly because the one who introduces us to this particular spell now is not Andrastian but the ancient elvhen god and creator of the Veil.  Technically speaking  we could say Solas, having created the Veil ages ago and therefore being the one responsible for the present reality of Thedas, is then, in a way, its maker. It’s a wild idea, I know, and there are some bits of lore scattered around that could support it, but i’m not jumping into that abyss yet-

In addition, let’s go back to his auto-leveled spells. At first sight there’s no basis for Solas being an electromancer. But like his Rift specialization, his magic preferences are lore/plot oriented. To consider:

Solas prefers the Storm tree. Skyhold is, by its very name, the place from where the Veil was installed. Some codices found at Skyhold mention electricity being used in unknown rituals at Skyhold’s location. Solas was responsible for creating the Veil.

With this in mind it can be concluded that Solas has always been an electromancer, and even used his electric powers in some way to help put up the Veil in the past.

tl;dr Solas was originally an electromancer and is a Rift Mage because he created the Veil and knows it better than anyone else. Also, he may be the Maker. (loljk or am i)

Now what would you say if I told you Solas possibly also does blood magic? Too much of a stretch? Maaaybe..Except maybe not. He’s not against it, thinks of it as simply a means to an end, and doesn’t disapprove of it unless it’s done in excess for all the wrong reasons (as they do in Tevinter) or is used to limit freedom like when used to bind unwilling spirits or control people’s minds. It’s just an idea, but there must be an explanation why blood magic and lyrium (titan blood, so, still blood magic) can be used to tear the Veil open. The Magisters did it before, and a second time when Corypheus sacrificed Divine Justinia in a ritual that also involved...Solas’ Foci. That is, Fen’ Harel’s Foci.

From Tevinter Nights we learn Solas is after the red lyrium idol (again, titan blood) which he claims belongs to him and is a necessary element for the ritual he must perform to take down the Veil. A ritual for which he’s willing to destroy Thedas as we know it, regrettably causing the dead of thousands. For all we know, those deaths are a necessary sacrifice because they are part of a massive blood magic ritual, Solas’ own death may also be part of it. If the blood of a Divine could be used to open the Breach, what could the blood of Fen’Harel be used for?? Solas’ new powers as Fen’Harel are, frankly, terrifying*, and he’s decided to do whatever it takes to see his mission through, sadly.

And all this leads me to future possibilities..we can imagine with Solas actively trying to take down the Veil there will be places where the Veil gets super thin or begins to disappear. Pockets of space where reality no longer respects natural laws of physics or logic. The Fade is fluid, ever changing, with the right power it can be reshaped at will and i imagine some of that may begin to leak into the physical world, so we may get mage (or spirit! )companions with skills capable of taking advantage of that. 

Lastly, i may add, right now and as far as we can see, Solas is OP as fuck*. He can kill you in your sleep from within your dreams. He can turn you into stone with just thinking of it, which means in a way he can bend the laws of nature of the physical world like he can do in the Fade, If in the future we get close to him,if we get our hands on artifacts or intel.. it won’t because we gathered the right people and resources, it won’t be because of clever tactics and espionage, it won’t be at all because we did anything right. It’ll be because he allows it, because he let us get that far. 

If we stop him at all it’ll be because he wants to be stopped.   

(Apologies in advance if some of this is poorly written, i revised it so many times words no longer look like words. Also half of this is just wild speculation on my part and nobody has to agree with me, after 5 years i may be connecting imaginary dots but hey, it’s fun! If you read this far...i am so sorry, thanks)

[elfrootaddict]

GROWING PAINS - Chapter 1/6

DESCRIPTION: Change. Growth. Hard truths. As the Inquisition’s Lady Herald, El’lana must step-up and help establish the orders’ influence. Many lessons are learnt and life-altering decisions are made.

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 4

The month of Firstfall has come around once again in Ferelden and the locals of the Hinterlands are lucky enough not to experience the full-blown, snowy winters of those back in Haven. Nevertheless, the massive expanse of rocky hillside still experiences the icy chilled winds from the Frostback mountains, reminding the locals that no corner of Ferelden can ever truly escape the country’s infamous winter temperatures.

With Liliana’s scouts guiding their path, the trek to the Hinterlands was easy enough to accomplish. Lana, Cassandra, Varric and Solas were able to get to their destination with relative ease and good speed.

During the day, the conversations between the companions were sparse and polite. Each one trying to save their energy for the long journey they had to make each day by foot. By nightfall, they would quietly share their  rations over a small inconspicuous fire, so as to not get any unwanted attention, and then head straight for their tents to get a good night’s rest for an early rise.

And even though nobody wanted to stay up in the freezing night’s sky and talk, neither one of them quite knew what to say to the other in any way. With the diverse range of cultural, religious and somewhat mysterious differences between the unusual party, neither one of them quite knew how to break the conversational barrier in the first place.

Therefore, all they could focus on was the one thing they all have in common - to seal the Breach in the sky. And so it is this reason, and this reason only, that Lana the inexperienced Dalish, Cassandra the devout Andrastian, Varric the charming rogue and Solas the esoteric mage, have come together to seek out the potential help of Mother Giselle. A Revered Mother of the Chantry who has insisted on staying in the Hinterlands to help the refugees caught in the middle of the mage-templar war.

Lana and her companions eventually reach the top of a wide, flat outlier of ground just below the rocky plateau of Lake Luthias. They then catch a glimpse of an Inquisition tent nestled amongst the trees and the group simultaneously release a sigh of relief as they realise they have finally reached the Upper Lake Camp.

Lana finds herself admiring the inconspicuous camp, and feels its location is perfectly situated. As she catches her breath, Lana starts looking around the snuggled campsite and decides to take in her surroundings;

On the left, against the embankment of the plateau are massive boulders running all the way along the side and into the distant forest. To Lana’s pleasant surprise, she notices a small waterfall running into a large, shallow, crystal clear pond with lush green lily pads, and spindleweed scattered all along the water’s edge. However, on the right and several paces away from camp, lies a death-defying edge that overlooks almost all of the northern Hinterlands.

Having lived all her life amongst nature as well as helping the Keeper decide on a new place for when her clan needed to move, Lana finds herself impressed by such a good location for a camp. She even feels somewhat proud of this young, virtuous organisation spreading their influence so quickly and putting their words into action. Which isn’t something Lana is accustomed to, being Dalish.

As proud as she is to be Dalish, Lana knows that the only thing her people have ever truly accomplished is to merely talk about the past and preserve their magic. There has never been an expectation to actually do anything to improve their lives. Just simply ensure they do not forget.

And while she may wholeheartedly agree that preserving the little knowledge her people have left to remember is excruciatingly important, she has nevertheless always itched to do more than just talk and preserve the past.

Suddenly a young, plain dwarf with soft freckles to match her auburn hair, and striking green eyes, walks towards Lana and her companions cheerfully, “Lady Cassandra, I’m glad to see you’ve all made it. Welcome to the Upper Lake Camp. I’m Scout Harding.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you Scout Harding,” greets Cassandra as she extends a polite bow to the dwarf. “Is it the war we’re hearing down below?”

“I’m afraid so. The mage-templar war has spread far. We believe the templar’s strong hold is just west of here, near the river. They’ve probably found a good flat area to build camp somewhere upstream which is tucked away and off the main road. The mages have been sighted directly north. I’m assuming they’ve found one of the caves nearby.”

“Maker, you seem to know alot about this area.” quips Varric with an impressed chuckle.

“I grew up here,” explains Scout Harding proudly. “As a kid I would always go exploring and I haven’t quite stopped since.”

“Well then,” adds Cassandra with a sincere sigh of relief.  “I can see why Liliana has put you in charge of these scouts. It's a pleasure to have you on board. Let me introduce the rest of the team,” and turns to face each companion as she calls out their name, “This is Solas. A mage who has proven not only to be helpful, but cooperative since the day the Breach came into the sky. This is Varric Tethras. He’s…” Cassandra pauses as she tries her best to find polite words to describe the man who has only made her life hard and strenuous. “A rogue. He’s excellent with his bow.”

“Her name is Bianca,” adds Varric defensively. “And she’s more than just a bow. Don’t mind Cassandra miss Harding, we just have a bit of history. Don’t we, Seeker?”

Cassandra groans and rolls her eyes before moving on, “And this, is mistress Lavellan. The Herald of Andraste.”

“It is an honour to meet you, Herald,” remarks Scout Harding with a respectful bow as Lana steps slightly closer to the front of the party. “I heard rumours that the Herald was an elf, but I didn’t quite believe it. Until now, of course.”

Lana’s cheeks flash to a soft pink, “Oh?”

“Please, don’t get me wrong!” cries Scout Harding apologetically. “I’m not saying that it's a bad thing. I’m just saying you’re a bit of a surprise.”

Lana releases a soft smile and laughs, “Trust me. I’m more surprised than anyone.”

Suddenly a scout approaches the party in a hurry, “Lady Cassandra, there is a letter here for you.”

Cassandra tales the letter from the young scout. “Thank you,”  and turns back around to regard her party. “Excuse me, please. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Of course,” adds Scout Harding and turns to Lana with her piercing green eyes. “In the meantime, you should know that the mage-templar war is very close by. We’ve already had a few strays from both sides try to infiltrate this camp but luckily we’ve managed to hold them off.”

Lana slowly turns around to see if Scout Harding is actually talking to her. She may have the mark on her hand, which will help close rifts, but she is in no way shape or form able to handle the responsibility of making decisions regarding the Inquisition. She’s just the Dalish elf. Isn’t she?

“How eh…” mumbles Lana eventually as she clears her throat. “Bad is the fighting?”

Was that the right question?

“It’s pretty bad,” answers Scout Harding with a heavy heart. “The valley below is where most of the fighting happens, and sometimes all the way through the night. A lot of people have had to leave their homes because of it. Everything is destroyed.”

Listening to Scout Harding’s story makes Lana’s heart ache as she imagines what she would be feeling if this was happening in the Free Marches, “I’m sorry this is happening to your home, Scout Harding. This must be really hard for you.”

“Thank you for saying that,” murmurs Harding with a sincere smile. “And yes, it isn’t easy seeing this place desecrated with such violence. Forcing hundreds of innocent people to leave the homes they’ve had for generations. Luckily, we’ve got the Inquisition though, right? Hopefully we’re going to set things right again.”

“Yes,” murmurs Lana with a gentle smile. “I hope we can.”

“Would you mind following me, Lady Herald?” asks Scott Harding. “I can show you the lay of the land before you head down there tomorrow.”

“Of course. Lead the way.”

Once Scout Harding turns around and heads towards the forest, Lana quickly spins on her heel to regard Solas and Varric behind her. With wide, panicked tricken eyes, Lana suggestively begs them to come along with her. The two men turn to each other and share a quick smirk amongst themselves at Lana’s reluctance to take lead, and proceed to follow along at a respectable distance. Remaining close enough to hear what Scott Harding has to say, but not too close that Harding would be addressing all three of them at once.

One way or another, Lana is going to have to realise that with her mark and divine title bestowed upon her, people will look to her not only for hope but for guidance, too. Whether she likes it or not.

Now several paces in the thickets of the forest, Harding, Lana, Varric and Solas eventually reach a clearing that looks out onto the Hinterlands below. The setting sun illuminating the sky with bright pink and orange hues.

“Do you see that hill in the east?” begins Scout Harding. “Just beyond it you’ll find Mother Giselle in a tiny village. The village is tucked away, so you shouldn’t come across any fighting,” Harding pauses and looks up at Lana with concern. “But you never know, so keep your staff close.”

“How do we get to the village from here?”

“Well, you have two ways from here but I would suggest the second; leave camp the same way you entered but stick east. You’ll pass Calenhad’s Foothold on your left which will then lead you all the way down a path that will head north, and at the end of that path will be the village. It won’t take you long to get there and this way you can avoid entering that valley below us.”

Lana looks out to the valley and hears the faint cries of dying men and the smell of burning wood, “Thank you, Scout Harding,” mumbles Lana eventually. “You’ve been really helpful.”

“You’re welcome,” remarks Harding as she offers a sincere, respectful bow. “I’m going to head back to camp. We already have a tent ready and waiting for you and your party as well as a warm meal by the fire. It’s one of my mother’s actually - the recipe - you’ll love it I’m sure.” and turns to leave, disappearing into the trees behind them.

Varric and Solas notice Lana continue staring out onto the valley below and decide to give her some space, and turn back to unpack.

As Lana glazes out, she can see small flashes of magic light up the almost dark valley below. If she didn’t know any better, she could have mistaken them for small fireworks being used in some kind of celebration. Perhaps for a wedding or—

“Herald?”

But it wasn’t a wedding or some other abrotary celebration the people commune over here in the South. The undeniable sound of battle and cries of dying men and women are just far too hard to ignore. Templars killing mages and mages killing templars.

No. Not killing . Murder. It’s simply cold, blooded murder.

“Herald, I believe there was more Scout Harding told you?”

Cassandra walks up to Lana’s side and notices her distressed and distractive gaze over the horizon, and realises that Lana is in no mind to talk strategies. The true horror and panic in young Lana’s large, lavender eyes is impossible to ignore, and Cassandra finds herself sympathising over the naive, inexperienced elf.

Cassandra takes in a large breath before exhaling, looks out towards the horizon, and changes the subject to the real matter at hand, “I have found that war usually does not determine who is right - but only who is left,” murmurs Cassandra as she solemnly turns back to regard Lana and pauses. “You haven’t killed anyone before… have you?”

“Is it that obvious?” murmurs Lana as she finally breaks her gaze and looks down towards her bare feet wrapped in leather.

“Not unless you have seen that look upon your face many times before,” admits Cassandra with furrowed brows. “I had months of training before I killed someone for the first time. When I was still a Seeker, I saw many of my fellow brothers and sisters go through the same vigorous training as I did. They were always so confident in the confines of our Order’s walls, but when the day came for them to put their training to use, they all had the same look in their eyes that you do now.”

“And... did they do it?” murmurs Lana still looking towards the ground. “When it came down to it?”

“They did. The months of training takes over your need to run in the other direction. You almost feel as if you have no control over your own body anymore, and you are simply doing what you have been trained to do many times before. Strike down your enemy or die trying. It was as simple as that.”

Lana looks up at Cassandra with fearful eyes for only a moment before turning her gaze back down, “I don’t think… I don’t think I can do it... if it comes down to it. I can’t take another person’s life,” and pauses for a significant amount of time before looking fiercely back at Cassandra with her voice trembling. “I won’t. I won’t do it.”

Cassandra drops her head as she releases a loud, heavy sigh, “Then you would rather be the one who dies? Instead of the person trying to kill you in return?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“I understand that life as a Dalish has provided you some kind shelter, and I can see that your Keeper took great care in ensuring your clans safely, but you are no longer within the confines of your clan, Herald. Those mages or templars will not hesitate to kill anyone they deem a threat.”

“I know. It’s just…they’re people. Their lives matter. And I don’t want to be the one responsible for taking their life,” Lana turns to meet Cassandra’s subtly surprised expression, “Oh I know, because I’m Dalish and an elf I’m supposed to think we are above everyone else in Thedas, right? Well, I wasn’t raised to think like that. The Keeper always taught me to respect all living creatures in this world. From the worms in the earth to the birds in the sky. You humans or dwarves may not believe in my gods, and yes we have a messy history, but that doesn’t mean you don’t matter. We all matter.”

Cassandra drops her head and sighs, “While I appreciate the sentiment, Herald,” and points her finger to the valley down below. “But that won’t stop them from trying to kill you. Not everyone can afford the luxury of sticking to their morals in times of war.”

The two women break eye contact and gaze back out towards the horizon once again. The sun is almost completely set and the stars are beginning to shine peacefully above, completely undisturbed by the chaos down below.

With the posture of an experienced soldier, but with a heavy heart, Cassandra turns back to regard Lana carefully, “You are the Herald of Andraste, and only you can seal the rifts. You simply cannot die. You are far too valuable to allow yourself to be killed over your morals - however virtuous they may be,” and before walking away completely, she turns back around to meet Lana’s gaze and sternly murmurs. “If you will not kill another to save your own life, then do it to save the thousands of innocent people across Thedas who rely on you. Do it for them.”

As Lana watches Cassandra disappear into the night, she turns back around towards the horizon and notices how quiet it has suddenly fallen. There are no more flashes of magic or cries of dying templars or apostates. Just deafening silence.

Which could only mean one thing - everyone who was fighting is either dead or dying from their wounds in the cold, winter night. Praying to whomever they believe in to offer them a peaceful passage to a better afterlife, and swearing curses on those responsible for their demise.

The dying people haunt Lana’s mind as she imagines them now lying alone, choking on their own blood without a single loved one by their side. Their final resting place being a battlefield that is littered with who knows how many grotesquely cut down or burnt corpses.

Did they have a lover? Children? Parents? Surely not all of them are vicious monsters everyone claims them to be?

Lana takes a deep breath and decides to head back to camp before it gets too dark. The sound of Harding’s mother’s meal is exactly what she needs right now, and could use some conversation over a warm fire to distract her mind over tomorrow.

As Lana reaches camp, she notices the number of soldiers and scouts helping the Inquisition, and if it came to it, would perhaps even sacrifice their lives for it. They have all chosen to help close the Breach and restore order by leaving their loved ones behind. Everyone in this camp is willing to sacrifice themselves to ensure the safety of Thedas. How could Lana not do the same?

They do not have a mark on their hand to close rifts, and yet here they are. They aren’t called the Herald of Andraste, and yet here they are. For all she knows, Lana also might not be the only one here who hasn’t killed before, and yet... here they are.

Realising the extent of choices and sacrifices made by the very people surrounding her, she begins to feel less remorse over the deaths of the people down in the valley who are only spreading more chaos. Suddenly, her empathy towards their deaths begins to fade ever so slowly as she imagines the destruction they have left in their paths.

Are these not the same people who burnt down and slaughtered innocents in pursuit of their cause to seek justice? Are these not the same people who attacked innocent farmers, merchants and children who did absolutely nothing to justify the defilement of their land and home? And are these not the same people who left hundreds of others destitute and turned into refugees?

Lana’s heart and stomach begin to turn over the conflicting nature of war - who is right and who is wrong? And that is when Cassandra’s wise, and truthful words return to Lana’s mind:

War does not determine who is right - only who is left.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 

READ ON AO3

Halla & Wolf Series

[dragonagecompanionsreact]

Hey there! I hope you guys are doing good! As for my ask, I was wondering if you could do a scenario of maybe the companions and advisers reacting to finding out the Inquisitor is Dovakiin/Dragonborn. (Romance included if you can/want) I hope y'all have yourselves a lovely day! :D

Cassandra: “Dragons are beautiful creatures. The Maker has given you a great gift. Use it wisely,” Cassandra tells the Inquisitor. The power could be dangerous in the wrong hands, but the Inquisitor would never misuse such a gift. As someone who hails from

Nevarra, it is a relief the fabled Dragonborn is someone to never take advantage of the power given to them. If Romanced: Cassandra may never admit to it, but she vividly remembers reading romance novels where there we’re dashing heroes and dragons. As a young woman, it was enough to make her swoon. Unfortunately, Cassandra finds it still seems to have that effect when she learns the Inquisitor is Dragonborn. The only difference is Cassandra is able to hide it much better than when she was young.

Varric: “Inquisitor at this point I don’t have to come up with anything. Your story writes itself!” The Inquisitor is a walking, talking fantasy novel. He thought Hawke had it bad, but the Inquisitor really one ups his dear friend after knowledge of the Dragonborn makes the rounds of Skyhold. At this point the Inquisitor’s story is going to be a full out autobiography. No creative license necessary.

Cole: Cole knows early on about the Inquisitor’s connection with dragons. He is unable to figure it out in the beginning. All Cole knows is that once after fighting a dragon, there is this moment of calm where their thoughts and feelings are intertwined. “Both of you hurt, but I can’t fix it. Why can’t I fix the hurt?” He loves to help and becomes saddened when he cannot.

Vivienne: “Darling, this is amazing news. Imagine the power you’ll wield.” Vivienne once again applauds her decision to side with the Inquisitor. She also feels the need to warn the Inquisitor about having such a power. Being Dragonborn will cause many to try to cozy up to them. Some (if not many) will have ill intentions. Of course, that is where she and the rest of the Inquisition comes in.

Solas: He can remember the first Dragonborn. They were one of his people who were caught in the crossfire after he created the veil. It seems strange that the Inquisitor just so happens to be Dragonborn as well. In the end it is of little consequence to Solas for he still plans to bring down the veil and reunite this world with fade. If Romanced: His vhenan seems to be full of surprises. First she survives the conclave and now appears to be the fabled Dragonborn. The news means little to him because it changes nothing. He loves the Inquisitor despite the many attempts to ignore the feelings he holds for her. For the time being, he will enjoy their time together because eventually Solas will be forced to end things. Whether he truly wants too or not.

Sera: “Inky tell me I can shoot arrows while riding on the Dragon, yeah?” Sera doesn’t like weird magic stuff, but like Bull she thinks dragons are pretty fucking cool. The Inquisitor doesn’t her question right away and just gives her a look. Sera grins. That’s a yes. She knows it. If Romanced: Sera would normally think it was awesome, but ever since the Inky made her fall in love with her, all she does is worry. Being Dragonborn will paint a bigger target on her back. Not only from

Corypheshit, but from any other baddies. The Inquisitor can tell Sera’s worried by just looking at her. Stupid Inky and stupid love.

Dorian: “Fascinating! Do you mind relieving me of the heavy burden this curiosity is forcing to weigh on my shoulders by answering a few questions?” Dorian asks, eyes twinkling. It’s slight retribution for the questions the Inquisitor posed to him about Tevinter just after Dorian’s arrival in Haven. Given the grin on the Inquisitor’s face, they see exactly what he is up too. Good. Then Dorian won’t have any trouble getting his questions answered and sharing a glass of wine with his dear friend at the same time. If Romanced: As a scholar, Dorian is fascinated by the idea of a Dragonborn. However, thinking of his Amatus having yet another unpredictable power is enough to send Dorian’s worry skyrocketing. He knew when he fell in love with the Inquisitor it would be difficult given the many threats on his life, but knowing and trying to accept it are two very different things.

Iron Bull: Bull doesn’t know what to say at first. All he can think about is: dragons! They are powerful and dangerous creatures. Nothing like killing one to get your blood pumping. And the Inquisitor can basically control them. It takes practice and learning spells to get to that point, the Inquisitor explains, but Bull has already tuned out. Dragons! If Romanced: “Kadan, I’ll be in your room. Come find me when you get a moment alone.” Bull’s blood is pumping in excitement, leading to images of being with the Inquisitor and a dragon they just killed feet from them. He grumbles to himself and hopes the War Council doesn’t keep his Kadan too long.

Blackwall: Maker, he doesn’t understand any of this magic stuff going on in Thedas. It all goes over his head. The Inquisitor being Dragonborn falls into that category. He will remain by the Inquisitor’s side no matter what title they take or power they wield. Provided they are still committed to being good. If Romanced: The woman is bloody amazing. Blackwall learns this early on and it really has nothing to do with her ability to command dragons or to close rifts. She has a way of getting others to believe in her. Blackwall falls in love with her quickly. He attempts to stay away but it fails every time. She threatens to sick a dragon on him should he try to run away by saying she’s to good for him. This only makes him fall harder for the Inquisitor.

Leliana: “It should come of no surprise that I learned of your Dragonborn status back when you were imprisoned in Haven,” Leliana informs the Inquisitor when they come to speak with her alone one day about the secret they’d been keeping. The Inquisitor looks surprised, which in  turn, surprises Leliana. What kind of spy would she be of she didn’t gather all information available?

Josephine:  “Inquisitor, would you like me to make an official statement or keep this under wraps?” Josephine won’t lie. They can use the information of the Inquisitor being Dragonborn to their advantage (especially when it comes to getting Nevarra on their side). But if the Inquisitor wants to go in a different direction, Josephine will fully be able to make that happen. If Romanced: Josephine has nothing against dragons. They indeed are very lovely creatures, but her love has a tendency to act first and think later. What of the Inquisitor does this while riding on a dragon? The thought alone is enough to send Josephine into a panic. She can try talking with her love. It is the only thing Josephine can think to do.

Cullen: Cullen has mixed feelings about magic, but he will not let his biases cloud his judgement when it comes to serving the Inquisitor and the Inquisition. However, given his title as Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, Cullen can see the positives of the Inquisitor being Dragonborn. They may be able to use it to their advantage depending on the Inquisitor’s thoughts about the plan. If Romanced: Being involved with the Inquisitor leaves Cullen constantly worrying if she will come back to him safely. He isn’t thrilled with the idea of her being Dragonborn for all the extra danger it will bring into the Inquisitor’s life, but he will support her regardless of his personal thoughts on the matter.

[ravenqueen89]

Words like arrows, chapter 1

The next Patreon offering is for @lightfiends​, who gave me the gift of writing her wonderful OC Kilastra Trevelyan.  This is also my first time ever writing Solas! Many new horizons this month. Thank you again for the opportunity!

Title: Words like arrows (Chapter 1)

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition

Pairing: Solas’ POV leading into eventual Kilastra/Solas with endgame Kilastra/Cullen.

Rating: PG

Summary: At times, something interesting flashes across her face, glimmers of expression that are almost intriguing. They appear most frequently after Kilastra has closed a rift, her magic singing so loudly in the wake of battle and that electric green reflected in her eyes. There is something other about her in those moments, something that defies the dullness of her humanity, but it is always gone by the time he can study it properly.

Notes: a word of warning that Solas is not being very endearing (extreme cockiness, internalised racism, etc) in this chapter - this is all written from his perspective. The usual rambliness of stream of consciousness applies! Oh, and I am also in love with Kilastra now, oops. Some liberties taken with how magic and the mark work. Thank you to my handholders, and a special thank you to @allisondraste​ for writing this amazing guide on writing Solas. Absolutely indispensable!

Word count: 1428

now on ao3

When they bring the prisoner in, there is nothing remarkable about her. She is unconscious and shivering, the mark on her hand bursting in flashes of green, like the power she’s stolen is rebelling against her. Solas knows that she will not survive, so he spares her very little thought until he hears the hum of her magic change, her breathing easing as the mark grows quiet. She is no one, but the power drawn across her hand accepts her. For now, she must survive. For now, he must ensure it.

*

Solas watches Kilastra Trevelyan stumbling through the motions during her first weeks in Haven and continues to find little of note. She wears a Dalish braid in her hair; she is the offspring of nobility, cast out of a comfortable life and into the limitations of a Circle; she is a strong mage, for a human, but nothing extraordinary. Solas sees nothing that explains her survival, and even less that explains why she is able to wield the mark.

He watches her, and all he sees is a young and naive human who doesn’t even have the courtesy to be aware of what she’s done. He watches her, and all he sees is the Dalish braid. Solas had overheard the story of this Trevelyan girl travelling with a Dalish clan for some months and had remained less than impressed. That, at least, is par for the course: the Dalish have always been attracted by insignificant things.

He watches the worry on her face when she is speaking to the Seeker and the limitation of her perspective would be amusing if it were not so very irritating. None of them understand what is at stake while he is forced to be a spectator to their ineptitude. He watches, but when she looks towards him, Solas averts his gaze.

*

At times, something interesting flashes across her face, glimmers of expression that are almost intriguing. They appear most frequently after Kilastra has closed a rift, her magic singing so loudly in the wake of battle and that electric green reflected in her eyes. There is something other about her in those moments, something that defies the dullness of her humanity, but it is always gone by the time he can study it properly.

To his mild surprise, Kilastra had been more than willing to set out into the Hinterlands to search for the artifact he wishes to study. They have been travelling for days now and she is still keenly excited at the prospect, talking to Solas about how such things interact with the Veil. To his moderate surprise, he does not tire of her enthusiasm on the matter.

The Seeker and the dwarf are also accompanying them, but they keep their thoughts to themselves. Solas knows everything about them that he wishes to know because they are easy to know. Kilastra, however, defies his understanding and it makes him feel uncertain. It is not a feeling he enjoys.

When Kilastra gets into a heated discussion with the Seeker on the subject of Circles, Solas sees another intriguing expression cross her face, something that hints at an unwillingness to kneel, at a defiance of rules.  It is a spark that he would almost like to see light up, but his interest in it fades away like the embers of the discussion. There is silence in the camp that night, and he seems to be the only one not to mind it.

*

Fog rises in the forest as they make their way back to Haven. Solas listens to the sounds of the trees and the halting footsteps of his party and wonders at the transience of it all. Finding the artifact has unsettled him and he cannot pinpoint why, but he believes it must be to do with encountering that young elf lurking outside the cave. The truth of his identity must have flickered on his face while speaking to her, and surely no one has noticed but he keeps his counsel until fog is replaced by snow where winter continues to hold court in the mountains.

Kilastra sits by him in camp that night, and he does not allow his face to show his disdain but he feels it nevertheless.

‘Herald,’ he says, and hopes she can feel exactly what he thinks of her hollow title.

‘Solas,’ she replies, tone neutrally polite. ‘Would you tell me of your explorations of the Fade?’

Her request is so far from what he expected that he turns to look at her. Firelight catches the golden tones in her hair and in her eyes, and there is a smattering of freckles across her cheeks. These are not details he has noticed before.

‘Why do you wish to know?’ he asks, knowing that it doesn’t matter. He seldom has the chance to recount his travels, but her interest is written all over her face.

‘I’ve always wanted to know more about it. I can’t control my own interaction with it, but I would love to hear what can be found there. If you’d like.’

The latter is thrown in as a courtesy and he knows it, but in this he doesn’t begrudge her tone. Solas hasn’t noticed her need for knowledge before and it seems to have been an oversight. It makes her almost interesting for longer than a moment. He tells her, but carefully chooses his words and keeps the stories as neutral as possible. She has been trained to be wary of the Fade and he needs to tread carefully, especially within earshot of the Seeker.

Kilastra does not seem wary. She asks question after question and Solas answers. By the time they stop talking, the fire has turned to embers but he can still see the glow in her eyes. For a moment, it matches his own.

*

In Haven, Kilastra seeks him out. Solas unravels more stories for her and finds himself preparing them well in advance of her visits. He doesn’t question it. Her interest in the Fade is one of the very few things making all this waiting bearable.

On rare occasions, he is the one seeking her out, and the way she smiles when he does is not unwelcome. They take long walks around the lake, and he tells her. She listens to his stories with the same level of rapt attention he used to get from everyone, long ago. She tells him stories of her own, noticing his lack of interest in her time spent with the Dalish and changing the subject to her time spent in the company of alchemists, which he almost finds fascinating.

Amongst the peace and quiet of the snow, Solas shows Kilastra spells that are innocent enough but that she has never seen before. He tells her that he has found this knowledge in the Fade, and she never questions it. She learns, her thirst for knowledge overlooking everything else.

Kilastra is more skilled than he has given her credit for, and it is also not an unwelcome surprise. She is a witty companion, for a human, and there is a kindness in her that he does not remember encountering in the physical world since his return. The way that kindness turns to steel when she discusses the plight of mages is also welcome. She is passionate about freedom, as well as about researching magic. She wants to understand the relation between the Fade and magic in order to better wield it. There is something there, something that almost appeals.

One day, when she has returned from an expedition to Val Royeaux that Solas did not join, he seeks her out. He has spent time procuring a selection of books for her and they had arrived in her absence. He has never been patient, and he refuses to question his motivation. He wishes for her to have them, and that is enough.

Solas hears her laughter before he sees her, but it is not what halts his steps. Kilastra is talking to the commander while watching drills, and he must have somehow said something infinitely amusing. Solas has no recollection of Kilastra having even mentioned this man’s name before in a casual context, but he is leaning very close and absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck and Solas sees it written all over him, plain as the entire human race.

Kilastra does not see Solas as he walks away. The books remain in his cabin until they are consumed by fire, months later.

[lillotte17]

Okay, so, at the prompting of @scurvgirl, I decided I should post this old snippet I had laying around because it comes from the same AU that The Big Sad Thing I’m working on, and gives a little sneaky peek at how things are set up.

As always, Uthvir belongs to @feynites

~

“Good night,” Solas says through a jaw-cracking yawn, getting up from his seat by the fire and placing a hand on Aili’s shoulder, “Do not stay up, too late. We travelled quite a distance today, and it is important to keep up your strength.”

“I won’t,” Aili promises smilingly, “I just want to finish reading these reports from Leliana and Cullen. The Dirth is still a warzone, and I don’t want to walk us into it blindly. Hopefully it won’t be too difficult for us to find where your friend was summoned.”

“Thank you,” he returns quietly, his expression turning softer for a moment before his gaze slides over to the other elf sitting by the campfire, idly roasting a hare they had brought back earlier and looking pointedly disinterested in the conversation at hand. "I suppose you will not be sleeping any time soon."

"Concerned about my ability to keep my strength up as well, are you?" Uthvir smirks. 

"Hardly," Solas drawls, one eyebrow ticking upwards, "My only worry is that you will find some means of distracting the Herald from her duties. And her rest."

"A tempting prospect on all counts," the hunter replies, their smile turning decidedly more wicked as a flash of heat sparks in their eyes. "Although, if you would prefer that I ensure that she is well-rested, I would gladly comply."

Solas shoots them a sour look, clearly ready to voice a scathing rebuttal before Aili interrupts them.

"The two of you are making it very difficult to read," she complains, heaving a sigh, "Go to sleep, Solas, if that is your intention. Look for any more clues about where your friend might be. Uthvir is not bothering anyone, they're just cooking what is likely to end up as our lunch tomorrow."

"My apologies, Lethallan," Solas offers, "I am afraid I have been more of a hinderance than a help."

"It's alright," she assures him, reaching up to take hold of his hand, squeezing his fingers briefly, "No one is at their best when they're worried about something."

"Thank you," he smiles down at her, pressing her hand between his palms for a moment before stepping away reluctantly and heading towards his tent. He shoots one last dubious glance in Uthvir's direction as he ties the tent shut. They wave at him in turn, completely undaunted. 

"I'm sorry he gets like that sometimes," Aili says in a low voice, coming over to sit beside them once it is clear that they are alone, "He cares a lot about...well. Everything. It's one of his best qualities, really, but... He lets it get to him, I think. He gets carried away with how to fix things or how to keep things safe, and he can sort of come off as..."

"An insufferable ass?" Uthvir supplies helpfully. Aili snorts.

"Alright, he deserved that one," she admits, "But he's very kind, for all that. Just like you are. Honestly, between the interest in unique magics and the knowledge of spirits and Elvhen lore, I'm a bit surprised that you two haven't been able to find more common ground."

Uthvir stares at her for a long moment. Their expression inscrutable, yet intense. Aili squirms a bit, cheeks pinking slightly.

"Is there something on my face?" she asks.

"...No," Uthvir says, their tone almost strangely gentle. They seem to shake off whatever strange mood had overtaken them, frowning as they glance back towards Solas' tent. "You do realize that if his friend has been summoned here from the Veil against its will, there is a very good chance that its nature has been corrupted."

"I...I know," Aili sighs unhappily, her gaze following theirs and lingering on the tent of their companion, "I'm willing to bet that he knows it, too. But...there might still be something we can do to help. I don't want to abandon anyone to a life of slavery and torture. And Solas, he... He asks for so little. He doesn't like to rely on anyone if he can help it, and I..." 

She trails off, unwittingly crumpling the reports in her hands as she bites her lip and continues to stare fixedly at the place where the Inquisition's Fade Expert has retired for the night. Her body is tense with worry, but there is a distinct softness in her eyes. Yearning.

Uthvir watches her in turn, their own expression flickering briefly towards sorrow. 

"Are you two...involved?" they wonder.

"Involved in what?" Aili blinks at them, finally shaking off her reverie.

A strangely fond smile tugs at their lips, as though they were expecting that sort of response, even though the good humor in it does not quite make it to their eyes.

"Involved in a relationship. Of the romantic variety," they clarify.

"Oh!" Aili squeaks out in reply, face darkening exponentially in embarrassment, "N-no! Of course we aren't in- I mean, not that there would really be anything wrong with- And I can't exactly say that I didn't- Why, did he say something?" Uthvir chuckles, pulling their thoroughly roasted kill out of the fire and looking it over. Checking to see if any places still look undercooked.When nothing seems to be amiss, they set it down on a nearby tray to cool. 

"Who needs words when you have long looks and wistful sighing?" they ask with a raised brow, "Besides, I think you might have just said enough for the both of you, though not much of it was intelligible."

Aili buries her face in her hands. And the rumpled remains of the reports she was meant to be looking over.  

"I...I kissed him?" she admits, sounding mortified, "Or at least, I tried to. I don't think I did a very good job of it. But then he... I thought he reciprocated, but he seemed to regret it afterwards, and now I'm not sure where we stand with things. He asked for time to think, so I'm letting him figure out what he wants."

"But you already know what you want?" Uthvir surmises. 

"I... Yes," Aili confesses with a shy smile, "I don't blame him for being a bit cautious, though. There's a lot going on. Throwing romantic feelings into the mix might just make a bigger mess in the long run. And I've never really even had much of a romance before, so I might be awful at it."

Uthvir makes an inexplicably pained face at that.

"And you still desire his affections, even seeing what they might cost you?" they ask in a tight voice, "Even if it destroys everything else you care for?" "I think you are being a little over-dramatic," Aili laughs, "But yes, I'm willing to take a bit of a risk in the hope of finding happiness. I think that's generally how love works. There's always a chance of heartache."

Uthvir turns their face away. Contemplative, and looking a bit like they are chewing on a tough piece of meat. Aili studies their face curiously, trying to piece together the line of their questioning.

"You're not seeing anyone romantically, are you, Uthvir?" she asks after a pause, brow furrowing slightly.

"Trysts and dalliances are more my style," they inform her with a cool grin.

"But not always?" she presses, somehow feeling almost certain of the answer. 

Uthvir meets her gaze, dark eyes boring into her so intently that they almost seems like they could set her skin on fire. She feels as though she is on the verge of piecing something together. Something important. Something that burns like a tiny golden star behind her ribcage. 

Her lips part, ready to ask a question her mind has not completely formed, when a strong gust of wind rushes through the camp. The fire sputters and nearly dies, Uthvir's hare rolls half way into the dirt, and Aili finds herself almost choking to death on a rather large leaf. Uthvir cannot seem to hide the amusement in their expression as they reach over to pat her back consolingly and brush a few errant curls out of her face.

"Not always," they concede with a smile.

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Yet another one where I try desperately to make friends and tag people that don’t like me to read my work. @solas-disapproves @pikapeppa @scharoux @itsalexistrvlyn

Context: Solas ruminating on his relationship with my Lavellan. I just really love writing internal monologues instead of having my characters actually, you know, interact. (/o_o)/ 

I should also point out that my Lavellan is 24, despite Solas repeatedly referring to her as a child. When you’re 40+, everyone under 25 is a child. “Kids these days”, etc. Plus remember he considers the Dalish to be “children” across the board like an asshole.

Bracketed parts are what I’m personally debating whether to keep, or else contain text that needs to be replaced with a more appropriate equivalent.

------

She kisses with innocence and an earnest desire to please. He quietly damns himself all the while, but his mind cannot help but dredge up the whisper of a memory from long ago, of similarly wide-eyed and precocious young slave girls gifted to him like furniture. In his youth he acted as much of the part of the rakish black sheep that the Evanuris required of him. [The question that still remained unanswered after all this time, however, was whether he became the character in this particularly decadent play, or if such power afforded him to simply allow such tendencies to flourish unrestrained.]

Whatever the case, it had not been an uncommon occurrence for him to offer the comforts of his bed to two, three, four women on any given night. Servants, slaves, merchants' daughters (and wives).. all eager to please, all determined to curry his favor or catch his eye in the hopes that they would receive a blessing, and what ever that implied. They tried to ply him with distractions--music, art, dance; lewd and debauched scenarios to be acted out for his amusement; as the nights wore on and the wine flowed like a river in his veins, he called for them to submit to more embarrassing requests or risk being permanently ousted from his ever-revolving circle of beautiful nymphs.

Even at his most drunk and at the highest peak of ecstasy, he never lost sight of their motives. To them, he was a meal ticket, a refuge from the painful drudgery of everyday living, a shield from yet another night of painful servitude to his more [visceral] colleagues.

He did not begrudge them: Arlathan swallowed up innocence as readily as a debutante would her first cup of red grape wine. Even the youngest and most inexperienced of his partners still possessed an idea of what to expect from him, either from rumors spread among those beyond his abode or through personal demonstration with a captivated audience.

No, no one was innocent, he had long since been taught, but its absence did not necessarily translate to knowledge. And what he instructed those girls was not wisdom as he once proudly thought, but a functioning form of shrewd cynicism. One did not deserve praise for recognizing the follies of a system they continued to benefit from, and hadn't he benefited from their desperate need for acumen? Indeed, it had always been a secret thrill of his to watch the glimmer of recognition sparkle in someone's eyes, the bittersweet understanding that, ultimately, [knowledge] held as many rewards as it did caveats.

[But as he stared down at the fidgeting ingenue beneath him, he found his heart stir alongside his loins. A crude, blasphemous combination was what he originally thought. [[I have no idea what to do here. This sentence throws off the tone of sincere love but what the fuck do I write]]] An unfortunate side effect of being interred in the Fade for countless centuries. To taste precociousness and sincerity on a person’s skin after all this time..

He was surrounded by shades who unknowingly haunted a false world. Its destruction was imminent, he had resolved that to be its ultimate fate, had accepted that his commitment to the lonely path must continue. He would live, in the loosest sense of the word, among these dead souls, but only for a short time. That was what he had told himself, and in his haste, he had extended the time in which he must dwell in this unbearable purgatory and somehow chained himself to a barely-whelped shadow of his People who now wielded a fragment of his power with as much finesse as a young mage with a training wand. 

Still, he would endure. Cordiality where it was required and expected, fleeting pleasure in the spirits he could still approach and the sweet desserts that thankfully never vanished from the imagination, temperance in all else. Another trial, another penance to be paid. 

But a self-inventory summarily revealed] that his heart now thrummed with a quiet music not unlike the layered echoes resounding from a strummed harp. Sentiments built like a scale. He closed his eyes and listened, and to his surprise he discovered it whispered the name of the Inquisitor, and in the next breath  urged him to recall the moments in their involuntary alliance that shook him from hypnotic stoicism.

Pity, pity for this Dalish girl, this innocent who was to have their life drastically torn asunder by yet another one of his mistakes.

Compassion, compassion for an unprepared child to be enlisted in a cause filled with those just as resolute in condemning her as they were in deeming her a necessity. Like a helpless babe tossed to wolves, she did not so much as whimper for fear of reprisal by forces she could barely comprehend.

Uncertainty, uncertainty at how such a skittish, stuttering, nervous da'len would be able to survive the trials set before her. She lacked understanding in the finer points of what moved the hearts of men. Her shyness intensified when in the company of human nobility to the point that her thoughts were rendered unintelligible. She commanded no presence, projected no confidence, [rested no worried hearts ]. When she spoke it was with a habit of editing her own thoughts in a messy and redundant manner.

Fondness, fondness for the way she listened to him like a child engrossed in a yarn regaled by an elder. The questions she asked, the desire to know and understand the foreign, intangible world he had come to call home long before her grandfather's grandfather's grandfather had been born.

Paternity, paternity because she struggled so very hard with her tremendous self-doubt, her [flagging] sense of belonging, her poor intuition in everything but the art of the bow. The others teased her as colleagues were wont to do but they did not see, as he and Cole saw with such painful clarity, that their words were as damaging as a sharpened knife against the bark of a new tree. That her face was in a near-permanent flush not because of the heat or sun damage but [perpetual embarrassment] at the thought that *she was truly a fool made to be mocked and [unloved]*.

But he kisses back. He kisses back and silently wills that these good intentions--Truly, they were good. Truly, he loved her in every sense of the word. Truly, he now cannot imagine a life having never known her--would leave similar indelible fingerprints on her heart as she has done to him.  

When they part, his eyes rove over the glassy sheen of gray eyes holding back nervously-happy tears; the disgusting, artfully-inked crow of Dirthamen marring her full flushed cheeks and child-like upturned nose and soft sweep of her constantly furrowed brow, he is struck by the desire to cherish her for all time. Hold her and kiss her and pour all of his devotion into her ears until she was reduced to a quivering mess. It would be better for her, so his fantasy narrated, because she is too pure for this world as it is, too good.

She was, the rational side of him agreed, but ignorance was not the proper path toward true happiness. Balance, balance and understanding and righteous action were.

[talesfromthefade]

For DWC: the pairing of your choice and a collarbone kiss? ❤ ❤

Eshalineva ‘Neva’ Lavellan x Solas for @dadrunkwriting

They’ve just reached the chapter on the pantheon when he pauses, taking a break from the book he’s been reading aloud to her- stories of the ancient elves- with his own minor corrections and memories he’d discovered in the Fade interspersed.“What about you, Lethallan,” he probes softly. “What do you believe?”“I believe gods are dangerous,” Neva replies thoughtfully after a moment’s contemplation to determine how best to put her thoughts into words for him. It’s not the first time someone has asked, of course, most of her companions and advisors have at some point or other, though most were only too happy to encourage she keep silent about them. Solas, however, has always encouraged her curiosity and skepticism. He surely won’t judge or stifle her the way anyone else might try to. There is a palpable sense of relief in that, in having a place, a person with whom she can be both more and less than the Inquisitor, or the Herald of a deity she doesn’t even believe in.

“Not because they’re real, but because so many are desperate for them to be,” she continues, fingers idly tracing circles and patterns against her folded legs. “We create an image of perfection to aspire to, but cannot possibly reach. We seek answers and solace where we see none, a community when we feel alone. It makes sense to search for such things, to create beings that could provide that security and comfort, and yet I have seen more exclusion and division brought on by the ‘devout’ than any non-believers. I see no proof and have no need for a Maker or Creators who’ve abandoned me. I see only desperate souls and power-hungry opportunists like Corypheus eager to subjugate them.”Solas hums thoughtfully, a low, soft vibration that travels through his chest and into her where she lies in his lap, back flush against him on the small couch in her quarters. The book, now lax between his fingers, carefully snaps shut and is dropped the remaining few inches to the floor in favor of wrapping his arms gently around her waist.“You continue to surprise me,” Solas whispers into her hair.

“How? By being a poor excuse for an elf,” she laughs shaking her head. “Deshanna was right to make me her Second, I would have made a terrible Keeper.”

“You think so,” Solas asks, drawing his head away from her ever so slightly to meet her lilac gaze and raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“You don’t?”

“I think,” Solas replies, considering for a moment, “Your clan’s loss is the Inquisition’s gain. And mine,” he adds in a lower voice that sends a pleasant shiver through her.

“That’s not really an answer,” Neva points out when she’s able to speak again without sounding too breathless for the way he holds her and what his voice alone can do to her.

“Mmm,” Solas hums thoughtfully, tongue darting out for a fraction of a second to wet his lips in a way that threatens to distract her, begs her to chase after it. “You show a wisdom that I have not seen since… since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade. You are not what I expected.”

That much, Neva thinks, was obvious from their first stumbling interactions and the way they had initially butted heads, though she is glad the two of them seem to have moved past that now. Fleeting she considers asking just what it was Solas had expected of her, before pushing the thought back down. Better perhaps not to know, and it hardly seems to matter anymore.

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” she replies instead, though the words are said with a wry sort of smile.

“It’s not disappointing,” Solas insists, seeming to miss or perhaps ignoring the light teasing of her tone. “It’s…” he sighs, seeming to struggle for a moment for the words. “Most people are predictable. You have shown subtlety in your actions,” he continues, surprising her a little. Subtle is not a word the young elf, or indeed many others would likely associate with her. Upon reflection, however, she can see why Solas might say so. Certainly, the other elf’s company has brought a sense of peace with him, that has previously eluded her, helped her hone her patience, even curb some of her impulsive and more reckless behavior. Infuriating as the accusation had been so early in their acquaintanceship, he had not been entirely wrong to say she was desperately seeking attention, approval without knowing or caring from whence it came. There seems less need to do so now in the face of someone so attentive. Even when they disagree, which still happens from time to time, there is never any question as to what he thinks of her. He gives freely of his knowledge, his opinions, his time, and despite some misgivings hasn’t shied away from her since their kiss in the Fade. “A wisdom that goes against everything I expected,” Solas continues, slowly drawing her back from her thoughts. “If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours… have I misjudged them?”

“Maybe,” Neva replies softly with a slight frown. “But the Dalish hardly made me this way.” If anything, she thinks, it seems more likely she became the woman she is to spite them. Most would have preferred her differently. “The decisions were mine.”

“Yes, you are wise to give yourself that due,” Solas nods thoughtfully. “Although the Dalish, in their fashion, may still have guided you. Perhaps that is it. I suppose it must be. Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you,” the other smiles softly at her.

“So what does this mean, Solas,” Neva asks softly.

“It means I have not forgotten the kiss,” he replies softly with a small smile, surprising her by seeming to read her earlier thoughts.

“Good,” Neva replies, twisting a little to better meet his gaze, without putting any more distance between them, hovering just in front of him, waiting, suggestively licking her lips with deliberate slowness. But, much to her frustration and confusion, he turns away. “Solas,” she whispers, hand gently reaching out to catch his arm at the elbow, before he can pull it away from where it wraps around her waist, holding her. “Don’t go.”

“It would be kinder in the long run,” Solas admits softly with a frown. “But losing you would…” She’s about to protest that he doesn’t have to lose her, but whatever it is that losing her would do to him is lost as Solas suddenly gives in, pulling her tighter to him as he kisses her. Warm lips press against hers, and Neva all too happily yields to them and the tongue that skillfully begs entrance to caress her own and explore her mouth. Lithe fingers caress the warm and soft cotton of his shirt, traversing and appreciating the strength of the muscles beneath that hold her. She can’t imagine being anywhere else, nor does she want to.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he whispers softly, words wrapping around her just as he does as she continues to melt into him, the warmth of his breath tickling against the shell of her ear.

Words, unlike Solas, have never especially been her strength. Indeed, they seem to have abandoned her altogether now. Surely to repeat the words back to him, however honest the sentiment might be, would be silly, inadequate, but thoughts of anything but kissing him again, of never leaving this place, or at least his arms, have fled. The blue cover of the tome they had been reading together catches in her peripheral vision, ‘Arlathan’ in large, flowery flowing script. ‘This place of Love,’ she thinks with a small smile, and she has her response, gently taking one of his hands in her own, placing it over her heart, before she covers his own breast, feeling the steady beat beneath it. “And I you- Vhenas.”

[alittlestarling]

purely academic

A short one-shot I wrote months ago and recently edited. Featuring Rosalind and Solas having a bit of a disagreement about magic in the Hinterlands. Guest-starring @rhetoricalrogue ‘s sons, Vincent and Rolfe briefly.

“A circle mage is restricted from what I can see and learns from fear rather than fact.” There was something about Solas’s voice and how it grated on Rosalind’s nerves. Why she had agreed to trekking out towards this ancient artifact he had claimed to ‘sense’ was beyond her, but she was trying to be a team player. Vincent wasn’t far behind them, helping a few of their recruits make it back to the safety of camp, but Roz and Solas had elected to move ahead. Initially the fellow apostate had intrigued her, especially with his differing views of magic.

Now, however, she was regretting her choice.

Instead she found herself gritting her teeth against the arrogance and smugness that oozed from him as he spoke of things he did not understand. The midday sun and her need to snack on something soon didn’t exactly help matters either.

“I doubt you can be a good judge of the Circle when you’ve never experienced it,” Roz couldn’t help the bite behind her words or the sharp edge that laced her tone as she paused to pluck fresh elfroot from the ground.

“True, I have not experienced it,” Solas conceded a moment, but he didn’t stop there, “but that does not mean I’m wrong about it. The Circle fears what it does not understand and teaches that as the basis of their magic rather than control of understanding of the magic that lies just beyond the veil.”

That was also annoying. “And how would you suggest teaching mages, oh wise one?” Fine, she could have been a little less sarcastic, but her temper was seeing a steady rise as they paused, ducking behind a few rocks, watching as bandits patrolled past. It may not have been the best idea, strategically, to send two mages without backup into the field, but Roz would have preferred to fight the bandits rather than try to understand Solas.

To his credit, he didn’t miss the blatant sarcasm that dripped from her words, but he also didn’t rise to her baiting. “Perhaps if you and your Chantry taught that magic wasn’t meant to be feared,” He hissed under his breath, both of their eyes watching as the bandits paused and then continued on, allowing them to dart away and into cover again, “and learned to exist peacefully with magic. It’s not all demons and danger beyond the veil.”

“Pardon you, but have you never been tempted by one?” Roz argued softly, blowing a strand of red that had escaped her braid away from her face. “If you had ever gone through a Harrowing, you might say differently.” Her own had been particularly mild, all things considered: a desire demon had told her she might be beautiful, but Roz hadn’t taken the bait. Others hadn’t been so lucky when they were confronted with the spirits and demons that lay beyond the veil.

“No, but I know that demons are merely spirits whose intents have been twisted beyond their true purpose. There’s-” and he paused a moment with the briefest hint of hesitation, “-or well, there may be a way for all to exist peacefully together to prevent places like the Circle from existing.”

“You’re speaking theoretically,” Roz snorted derisively, “it’s purely academic that anything like that could be possible.”

“I have seen it-” Solas began but Roz cut him off at the pass.

“Where, the Fade?” She huffed, irritated with the typical response she heard from him. “I’ve seen quite a lot in the fade, and very little of it remains true.” Pausing to catch her breath before they tackled the next hill, she met his gaze steadily. “I get it, you look down on Circle mages, you don’t have to beat around the bush and come up with compelling arguments against my education.”

“I am merely pointing out a lapse in it, not a complete lack of it.” Solas replied, his own tone just as sharp as hers. Yet he did not raise his voice. “That does not imply that I look down on you or the Herald for your background.”

“How terribly kind of you,” Roz murmured dryly. “There’s still the fact that you have told me, for the last quarter mile I might add, just what I am missing from my own knowledge base, all of which you have never had or experienced yourself.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, starting her pace again. “Just where did you say you learned your magic?”

He didn’t reply, picking up speed as they neared their destination. “It’s close,” he mumbled, Roz barely catching herself as he stopped (and she nearly ran into his back). “We should wait for the Herald to catch up with the others. Who knows what might be beyond the cave entrance.”

“Fine,” It wasn’t any trouble for Roz as she plopped down on a log, grateful it didn’t sink beneath her weight. That had already happened once before and she knew she would hear Sera’s gleeful cackle for a long time because of it. She never meant it in an unkind way; Sera was simply young and also blessed with a lithe frame that Roz knew she’d never have. They were an odd bunch so far; not that Roz was complaining, but she still wasn’t sure how any of them fit into the organization as a whole.

“You don’t know much about how magic works within the Circle,” Roz began, filling the silence between them, “so let me be the first to tell you that you shouldn’t judge us so harshly. Do you know what happens to mages who can't control their powers or who don't learn to respect the things beyond your precious veil? They die, become tranquil, are cut from their lives. I've seen enough of it to know that to be certain."

“You lost someone?” He asked, an innocent question with heavy connotations.

“I’ve lost many people, Solas.” Some to the grip of the Circle, some to the temptations of the fade and still many more in search of their freedom that they only found with death.

They were silent for longer than Roz anticipated. Solas had this strange ability to go still, his body unmoving in a state of tranquility that Roz had never been able to master. Spirit magic, she thought, recognizing the faint hint of magic in the air, her gaze shifting from him to the expanse before her. Hills, trees, grass and more fighting than anyone wanted to see. Things were starting to calm down since both the renegade templars and more radical rebel mages had been stopped, but this land was still far too embroiled in turmoil for her liking.

So lost in her own thoughts, she almost missed the arrow as it came whistling through the air. There was a shout of her name and Roz glanced up in time to throw up a shimmering blue barrier. “Shit!” She snarled, standing as a small group of highwaymen stumbled upon her and Solas. “Shit, shit, shit!”

There was something to be said about battle magic that she had never quite learned until her months spent on the run among the rebels. A rhythm and flow that she had stumbled over and nearly gotten herself killed over. Compassion and kindness were tools she could employ when she was with the people more gravely affected by the war around them; as much as she wanted to see these men and women as human beings, first and foremost, she knew that if they were given the chance, she would be lying in a pool of her own blood.

So Roz learned to fight without mercy in the hills and along the trails. Staying alive in the heat of battle was far better than having the higher ground but dead because of it.

Her stave gripped in her hands, Roz called forth fire from within, channeling the magic that she knew best within the depths of her soul. Solas worked with ice as he frozen and zapped while she roared and scorched the earth around her.

Despite whatever disagreements they were having, Roz had to admit that he was skilled with his magic. Perhaps trained differently with a little more wild magic that coiled out from under his control, but powerful nonetheless. There wasn’t any time to pause and perhaps reevaluate her own tactics as she smelled the faint traces of smoke, not from her own scorching but unnatural and faintly medicinal.

Roz had yet to master turning quickly. The scent of soot and nightshade caught her off-guard as she stumbled away from the dual daggers that were thrust towards her. One of the blades sliced into her sleeve, though it didn’t draw blood as she retracted her hand quickly. She had her stave up, blocking what she could as she mustered up mana to hopefully send the assassin flying away.

She felt it first rather than spotted it. It was a familiar tension in the air, a bow strung taut as she took in a breath and recognized a spell coming her way. She knew this magic and snarled fire from her fingertips as lightning struck at her feet. The assassin sizzled and collapsed, leaving the last of the bandits dealt with.

“Talk about dramatic timing,” Roz teased Vincent, who was hurrying across the field towards her and Solas. “Has anyone told you that you could spare just a few moments before things get dire before you make a grand entrance?”

“Dramatic timing runs in the blood,” Rolfe Trevelyan drawled as Vincent snorted. Ignoring his half brother, the Herald reached out to grasp her arm.

“You’re not hurt? I saw him-” He attempted to lift the frayed sleeve up to check and Roz drew back quickly.

“I’m fine, promise, not a scratch on me,” She replied, perhaps a little too quickly. Her stomach knotted though at the thought of what he might discover, dizzy with the implications that lay there. “Well, except for nearly getting sizzled by lightning, but I think I’ll survive that one.”

Solas was watching her though, a strange look on his face as the group gathered to loot what they could off the dead. Roz adjusted her sleeve, attempting to keep her arms covered. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she bent to grasp another bunch of elfroot to add to her growing collection.

His hand was cool on her skin and Roz flinched. “It seems I’m not the only one experimenting in what many believe should be purely academic.” It was a statement of fact, not an accusation, but his gaze said it all without him needing to breathe a word.

“Don’t.” She steeled herself for any rebuttals he might have, a snarl on her lips. She had done what it took to survive; she wasn’t going to let him tell her otherwise. But, for one of the first times, he surprised her and took away the sharp edges for a moment.

Solas said nothing. Instead, he let go of her arm and stepped away. Straightening himself, he turned to Vincent. “The artifact is nearby. When you’re ready, I think moving to it will be our best course of action.”

Roz still didn’t like him. But at least she had a feeling that she wouldn’t get any trouble from him about this. The rest was left to be seen.

[wyrdsistersofthedas]

Sinners all? Geldauron to Hakkon

Hey Nony,

Don’t be done or sorry!  I know what you mean about not being able to sleep and it’s being 5am, and you have DA ideas that just have to be written down just in case they turn into something.  And you do raise a very interesting possibility.  Is there a connection between the Sinner, Geldauran, and Hakkon?  Looking into your question brought several things to light I would not have noticed if you hadn’t asked.  So thanks!

There’s a lot of weird shit going on in the Frostback Basin, not least of which is (what appears to be) a firsthand quote from one of the Forgotten Ones.  Is it possible there is a connection between this powerful “dark god” from the elven pantheon and the later rise of Hakkon?  It sure looks that way!

Here’s the quick summary:

*Geldauran is sealed away in the elven ‘temple’ in the Frostback Basin, a Creator-forsaken land (to the ancient elvhen at least) with almost no edifices or monuments to the elven gods.  That tomb is sealed with spirit stones that are almost impossible to see, let alone find, once the Veil is place.  Those stones are scattered across the valley to prevent them from being reassembled easily, and the prison/temple itself was buried beneath the earth.

“Their pride will consume them, and I, forgotten, will claim power of my own, apart from them until I strike in mastery.” (Geldauran’s Claim)

*Some time later (possibly as early as 3200 years before present) the Avvar enter the region.  The Avvar live with the spirits of the region, shaping them into their pantheon of gods.  They communicate with one “spirit” or entity in a very curious way:

“The savages speak to their gods in the cave passage. They call it the Mouth of Echoes. They light fires and feed them with green spruce and shout their questions into the deep. They say answers come to them on the last whispered echo.” (Mouth of Echoes)

*Tevinter mages, searching for a way to communicate with Razikale, arrive in the Frostback Basin in the time gap between the Corypheus and the Magisters Sidereal entering the Black City and the foundation of the Orlesian Chantry.  They believe that the Avvar may have special knowledge about communicating with spirits.  These followers of Razikale reshape the land and expose the buried elven temple, but whatever was inside (Geldauran) was beyond their ability to control or dangerous in some way.  They construct an elaborate system of magical beams, crossing the Basin from Razikale’s Reach to the Old Temple, to seal that spirit in an even more powerful ice ward prison.  

They then abandon the region.

“Some of the Avvar, he said, believed the temple to be the haunt of old, vengeful spirits. The Tevinter had come here long ago and built their great temples and then one day, without warning, they had abandoned them all. Ragnarr was convinced they had done something terrible here, though he could not tell me what it was.” (Razikale’s Reach)

*Tevinter’s efforts to seal away what they found in the elven temple were not successful.  Within a few hundred years at most, the original Jaws of Hakkon learned to enter the the Old Tevinter Temple.  In the early Divine Age, they emerge with “Hakkon” bound to a dragon.

“In the old times, the first Jaws of Hakkon spoke with the great spirit himself. He opened their eyes that they might see the elfstones hidden across the world, and they entered the old cave and learned the mysteries of winter. Their working of cold let them slip through the ice-wall that wards the lowlander fortress, and we must now do the same if we are to take it as our own. 

Hakkon has been silent all our lives. He cannot speak to us in dreams or open our eyes, and we remain blind to the elfstones. The lowlanders, though, have found a new way to see them. The skull of a dream-slain, set with the right magicks, can bring the elfstones to our sight.

We will regain the mystery of winter.” (Leather-Bound Hakkonite Journal)

*Ameridan travels to the Frostback Basin to stop Hakkon, but miscalculations on Ameridan’s part and the power of Hakkon himself is more than the Inquisitor and his companions can overcome. The last Inquisitor traps Hakkon with time magic until the modern Inquisitor sets both free.

“The dragon's power is like none I have ever seen. Possessed by this Avvar god-spirit, it rivals the legendary Archdemon Dumat in its fury. I pray the legends of another Archdemon leading the Blight in the Anderfels are just foolish stories, but if they are true, then I understand why Emperor Drakon asked me to come here. Drakon's new "Orlais" cannot face two god-dragons at once.” (Pages near an Old Campfire)

*Time magic wards (which I would really like to know how Ameridan knew how to do) and 800 years later, the modern Inquisitor finishes the job Ameridan started, finally killing Hakkon.  

The chain of events certainly seems to lead back to the Geldauran inscription in the elven temple.  

Proving a connection to the Sinner, however, is nigh impossible at this point.  We just don’t have enough information about who the Sinner was, what exactly he did, and what happened to him.   If the Sinner took the form of a dragon, like most of us meta writers assume, he could have shown the elven people that the Evanuris were not the only ones who could take the form of the “divine”.  He would have been punished for such an act, perhaps being sealed in a temple/tomb bound in body and spirits, but there is no way to say for certain.

 All the same, I think all of these individuals and groups are connected through the Evanuris.  Is the Sinner an important player in all of these events?  Very likely.  The ominous tenor of the codex entry certainly makes it seem like a turning point, but we won’t know for what until at least DA4.

Thanks for the ask, Nony!  I found a lot of things I wasn’t expecting, which makes this result all the more satisfying.  

-MM

PS: There is a lot more to this meta than the summary.  For a more in depth analysis of the evidence that led to this summary, and a lot of other cool discoveries, check out the long version of this post under the cut.

Geldauran seems to be the lynchpin here.  We have more information about him and the other the Forgotten Ones than we have about Hakkon or the Sinner, but even that information is limited.  We know the Forgotten Ones are portrayed as enemies of the Elvhenan in Dalish legends.  But what are they really?  Elves?  Spirits?  Titans?!?

Let’s go to the source and see what we can figure out:

Geldauran wanted his message to be clear to anyone who came across it.  And the first thing he wants them to know: “There are no gods.”  Geldy knows the truth about the Evanuris.  He refuses to bow to the elven gods, and he believes that, in time, he will claim power enough to strike (at them? at the elves?).  So far, that is matching up pretty well with what we know about the Forgotten Ones, with one exception.  According to Dalish legends, Geldauran, Daern'thal, Anaris, and the other Forgotten Ones were afforded “god” status by the elves.

The legend says that before the fall of Arlathan, the gods we know and revere fought an endless war with others of their kind. There is not a hahren among us who remembers these others: Only in dreams do we hear whispered the names of Geldauran and Daern'thal and Anaris, for they are the Forgotten Ones, the gods of terror and malice, spite and pestilence. In ancient times, only Fen'Harel could walk without fear among both our gods and the Forgotten Ones, for although he is kin to the gods of the People, the Forgotten Ones knew of his cunning ways, and saw him as one of their own.

And that is how Fen'Harel tricked them. Our gods saw him as a brother, and they trusted him when he said that they must keep to the heavens while he arranged a truce. And the Forgotten Ones trusted him also when he said he would arrange for the defeat of our gods, if only the Forgotten Ones would return to the abyss for a time. They trusted Fen'Harel, and they were all of them betrayed. And Fen'Harel sealed them away so they could never again walk among the People.

—From The Tale of Fen'Harel's Triumph, as told by Gisharel, Keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves (Emphasis added.)

So what do we have here?  First of all, the fact that the Dalish after thousands of years still remember the Forgotten Ones as gods in spite of Geldauran’s claim that “there are no gods”.  This feels like post-Veil propaganda that seeks to cast aspersions on Solas, but also claims that Geldy and co. were gods like the Evanuris.  Think about what that means for a moment.  The Forgotten Ones were so powerful that the elves had to say they were also gods in order to keep the Evanuris on their pedestal.  

And doesn’t it sound like the Forgotten Ones were elves?  Really powerful elves, like the Evanuris, but elves all the same.  So what made them dark and terrible?  And notice that something in the Fade whispered to the elves post Veil that these Forgotten Ones were really evil.  Who do we know who are stuck in the Fade?  Spirits obviously, but the Evanuris too.  The elven gods trapped in the Fade seem to have thought it was worth their time to keep up the pretense that the Forgotten Ones were gods.  Why?   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

Kidding.  I do have a theory.  It is probably because the Evanuris thought that they would be able to escape Solas’ trap fairly easily (at least at first) and believed that the Forgotten Ones would too.  Keeping fear of them alive would keep their worshipers from seeking out these other “gods” in their absence. And on that count, they seem to have been right, with an exception of those Dalish near Serault in the Tirashan Forest who seem pretty scary and worship the Forgotten Ones.  I suspect these elves will get screen time in the next game.

Next step: Where and how were the Forgotten Ones imprisoned?

The Geldauran codex is inside an ancient temple that is very familiar.  One of the things that stood out to me when I first played the Jaws of Hakkon was the lack of elven sites and artifacts in the Frostback Basin.  There is a statue of Falon’Din above Stone-Bear Hold and that’s about it.  Well, except for a temple, which is a scaled down version of the Temple of Solasan in the Forbidden Oasis.  These ruins show that there was an ancient elven presence in the area, but limited and likely for a specific purpose.  If the Temple of Solasan is any indication, that purpose may not have been to worship the elven gods or as a place to enter uthenera.  Instead, they may have been used as a prisons.  

The Forbidden Oasis is the next piece of the puzzle.

There are codex entries that indicate that the temple is elven in origin and very ancient, but there is little to indicate that there was anything significant in the area, unlike the Temples of Mythal or Dirthamen.  In fact, the whole construction technique with Solasan and the Frostback Basin site (let’s call it the Frosty Temple, to make things simpler) is different.  These structures were built into the earth, and may have at one time been completely buried, given the stratigraphy of the land around them and erosion from the nearby rivers.  And notice...no eluvians in either site.  Once you were in, there was no coming out..at least until time and erosion, perhaps with magical help, exposed the “temples” once again.

Another sign that these two sites may have been used as prisons is found on the stele in the innermost sanctum of the Solasan Temple.  It reads:

Also, as shown in the video above, the entrance of the Solasan temple had a warding spell on it that frightens mortals and spirits, another line of defense to prevent the door from being opened.  The stele at the entrance of Solasan reinforces this feeling with a warning, telling people to stay away:

There are other warning signs as well, including the statue that greets people entering the Oasis with a severed head.  People that stay in the area too long eventually go mad (1, 2, 3), either from the wards, from whatever is in the temple, or from strange “warping” of the Veil in the area.  Didot, the miner featured in the three codex entries, however, is compelled to return to the door over and over again.  There are probably two different and opposing magical compulsions going on in the Oasis; something inside the temple wants out but the wards push people away.  Stay too long and insanity is the result.  While you are in the temple or the oasis, Solas makes several interesting observations about the temple and the Veil there.  He says:

(Forbidden Oasis) The Veil is strange here... as if it were reinforced, but for a few places where it has been warped.

Yeah, Solas.  We saw your damned elven Veil artifact in the temple.  Turned it on too.  Sigh.  Clearly, Fen’Harel’s agents were in the temple before.  A good question would be what were they there for?  Were they just putting the hardware in place to create the Veil?  Were they responsible for imprisoning the individual shown on the stele in the inner chamber?  Were they staging a jailbreak?  Were they after the powers gained from opening the various chambers?  Hard to say, other than the Forgotten Ones seem to hate Fen’Harel, in spite of codex entries to the contrary.  Felassan is as close to a first hand source, and he says that Anaris wanted to kill the Dread Wolf “for crimes against the Forgotten Ones”.  So whatever Solas’ agents were doing in Solasan, he definitely knows more about the temple than he says (as usual).  Later, when the Inquisitor opens a sarcophagus inside the tombs, he says:

Solas: The magic was drawn to you, possibly because of your mark. The effects were purely benign.

Inquisitor: If it wasn’t a trap, what was it?

Solas: It may be a reward for those who prove themselves worthy.

What kind of a person sets up a warding system that will drive people in the area to madness and death if they get too close to the temple, then rewards them after they fight off the possessed corpses with magic that may only be attracted to you because of a very specific type of magic only currently known to be used by the Inquisitor, and previously contained in the Orb of Fen’Harel?  Seems fishy, but I don’t have time to follow up that the thoughts I am having about that here.  

The next part of the mystery explains why the Solasan and Frosty temples remained sealed and hidden away for so long, and also how they were eventually found again.  Let’s talk about spirit stones and oculara, people.  

In the Hissing Wastes the Inquisitor finds a diary with some background on the spirit stones:

So spirits can see or feel the stones, they have been there for ages, likely since the Veil was created, and the Breach may have made it possible, or easier, to find them, at least according to a codex entry from the Hinterlands.  More information about the shards is found in the Frostback Basin, including a sequence of event that seem to be the key to the Mystery of Winter.

The Avvar had lived in the Frostback Basin region for thousands years, communicating with spirits who they shaped to become their gods.  Then Tevinter shows up:

Tevinter went to massive efforts to uncover the ancient elven temple, at least if Helsdim Rolfsen isn’t a total nut bag.  (He’s definitely has a problem with over complicating a story, which I can totally relate to ^_^, but the initial observations that lead him to his outrageous conspiracy theories are usually sound.):

Whatever Razikale’s followers found in the temple, it’s pretty clear that it scared the shit out of them.  They construct a complicated magical ice machine that sealed the Old Temple and then they abandon the region.  

Tevinter, however, underestimated how powerful the being/spirit/whatever in the elven temple was, and how strong Avvar magic is, especially concerning their connections to spirits.  After the Imperium abandoned the basin, the original Jaws of Hakkon took up the challenge of “taming” what was in the Old Temple.

All of these codices create a complete chain of custody, from the ancient elves to the modern Hakkonites.  Ameridan, himself, gives us the final piece of the puzzle.

Ameridan compares Hakkon’s power to Dumat’s, the archdemon who lead the darkspawn in the nearly 200 year long First Blight.  Whether or not the Old Gods are the Evanuris (I typically think they are probably not, but if any of us could prove it one way or the other, we all would have a lot less meta to write. ^_^ )  Hakkon’s power is beyond that of a normal spirit, implying that he is extraordinary.  But was he truly a spirit/demon?  We have instances of elves dropping their bodies in order to seal themselves in spirit crystals, and elves basically become spirits while they are in uthenera.  It is even possible that Geldauran lost his memory of who he was during the ages he was in captivity, as happened with the arcane warrior elf in the spirit crystal.  

But I digress, and could write a whole different post about whether the Forgotten Ones were spirits or elves, and I probably will some day.  But today is not that day.  Any of you who are still reading have been very patient, so let’s wrap this up.  

Whether Geldauran was a spirit or an elf, the Avvar communicated their belief that he was their god Hakkon, and Geldauran seems to have come to believe it himself.  He rises from the Old Temple to challenge the modern Inquisitor to single combat and the dragon is killed. 

So there you have it, Nony.  Not crazy at all.  There is very compelling evidence that Hakkon is actually Geldauran.  Now whether Geldauran is the Sinner...well, like I said in the summary, there just isn’t enough information about the Sinner to draw from.  Is it possible the Sinner was related to the Forgotten Ones?  Sure. Clearly, there was some drama going down in the pantheon when the Sinner took the dragon form of the divine, but what it all means is pure speculation at this point.  There is so much dragon imagery associated with Hakkon, Geldauran, and the Sinner, that it is possible they are all related or even the same being, but they may also just be pieces in a bigger puzzle.  

And, I suspect, that story will explain many of the mysteries of the Dragon Age.

Thanks for reading!

-MM

[obsidianmichi]

Eirwen studied him for a moment with her bright blue eyes. “I suppose it might seem strange on the surface and, maybe, a bit hostile.” Pushing her fingers through her hair, brushing back orange bangs. “Still, it... isn’t what you’re thinking.”

He leaned forward, suddenly restless.

“Besides, I can’t say I don’t deserve the way she treats me,” Eirwen added. “Ellana is worried. She wants me to return home. She’s just terrible at showing concern, and it turns to hostility. Badgering or emotional bullying become means of getting what she wants.”

Solas swallowed, he supposed that answered a few questions though it opened up several more. Ellana’s hostility toward another member of her Clan bothered him less. Or, perhaps, more. He’d not wanted to be the cause of their tension. The idea he might seemed silly now too. His mind should not have traveled in that direction. Ellana lashing out at Eirwen for the reasons she stated were far more worrying. “I see, it is only natural she would want her family somewhere safe and away from the fighting.”

“Oh,” Eirwen paused, her lashes fluttered. “No.”

“No?” He hid his confusion.

She took a quick swig of ale, her nose wrinkling at the taste. “Ellana doesn’t want me to leave the Clan.”

Carefully, Solas made a study out of the wood grains on the table. Out of all the answers he expected, the idea Eirwen might be considering leaving the Dalish hadn’t been one of them. Ellana seemed perfectly content, perfectly proud of her people. She did not ask questions. He’d assumed Eirwen to have similar opinions. They were of the same Clan.

“You’ve said before our Keeper was wise to take an interest in the affairs of humans, but you never asked why she sent me.”

“A Dalish First did seem an odd choice,” he agreed. “From what I understand you are the future leader of your Clan, are you not? A risk, certainly, to send you to a Conclave filled with Templars.”

Eirwen bit her lip, her eyes narrowed. Considering, he realized. She sat still and in silence for some time, and he stayed in silence with her. “Deshanna felt it was important I see the world,” she said. “She wanted me to experience how the shemlen lived, so I could make my decision.”

Solas blinked, and found himself leaning ever closer. He’d not expected that attitude either. “I do not suppose you will explain why the opinions of the humans might be under consideration in choosing a future Keeper.”

Eirwen smiled. “I didn’t go to understand them, Solas. This journey is about me, about who I am and what I want.” Her eyes swept over her ale. “Keeper knew I needed to understand my options.”

“There are few in this world for mages and elves, fewer still when both traits are combined,” Solas countered.

Her finger circled the mug’s lip. “Our way, the Dalish way, is only one way of living. There’s more to this world than just us. A Keeper must be able to see what others can’t.”

“I see,” Solas murmured, though in truth he didn’t.

“I planned to go alone, but Ellana overheard,” Eirwen continued. “She insisted she come.” Her lips twitched. “To protect me from my stupid choices, those were her words.” Then, her smile faded. “Poor Ellana, she doesn’t understand.”

“She is frightened then that you will never return,” Solas said. “I confess, I do not see why you would not. It is your duty to carry on the traditions of your people.”

“Among the Dalish, we believe a decision made for the wrong reasons corrupts both the work and its purpose,” Eirwen replied, her voice even. “This choice must be made for the right ones, with a clear heart and mind. I have worked hard to become Keeper, but I…” she trailed off, “I have doubts. I want to know if this path is the right for me.” Her fingers interlocked, both hands clenched together on the table. “I need to see clearly.”

He wondered if she’d planned to say something else.

“A Keeper is more than a leader,” she added softly. “We are our Clan’s spiritual guides, a source of wisdom and ancient knowledge. It is our duty to see the Clan through hardship, and aid them in the discovery of their purpose. I suppose,” she tapped her chin, “I’ve more in common with Chantry sisters than Circle mages, closer to Cassandra and Leliana than Vivienne.”

“I see,” Solas nodded, though he found he did not know what else to say. At least, he did not without additional condescension.

“Ellana doesn’t...” Eirwen sighed. “For her, Clan Lavellan is her home. Among the Dalish, a member of our Clan leaving our forests is the greatest sin. We should not be in the Inquisition at all.” Her fingers twitched. “And I… I am blessed with the gift of magic, the Creator’s magic and the ancient secrets of our Clan.” With a sigh, she stretched her hands and arms above her head. “You see, when I was born a red star glowed in the heavens. Revaslin da’elgara el’somniar thenerdin, freedom’s blood at dawn. The same star our legends say shone on the morning of Shartan’s birth. The others, they see me as marked by the gods for greatness. So, for Ellana, there is no choice to be made. She doesn’t know why I haven’t gone home.”

Solas paused, his hands flat on the table. This had been about him, he realized, though not in the way he imagined. “The Inquisitor believes I will…” he searched for the right word, “tempt you from your purpose.”

Eirwen laughed. “You’re hardly a demon, Solas. I’d say she considers you more a contributing factor. She worries about my work with refugees and soldiers. Each day I stay, I only confirm her fears.”

He looked away, disgruntled. He did not know whether he was bothered by the fact he ranked so low, considering Dalish superstitions or that the Inquisitor clung to these silly superstitions at all. The Anchor had been passed by an act of chance, and she had survived it despite her lack of magical talent. That should be enough. Eirwen, at least, seemed to take it in stride though he supposed she’d come with a far better frame of mind for it. In the end, regardless of whatever trappings worn, the answer was simple. Ellana does not wish for her friend to leave her family. He thought on Ellana’s hostility, which must have begun from the moment Eirwen decided to remain with the Inquisition. A choice made long before their first face to face interaction. Indeed, he could not remember her in Haven. “Yet, you have stayed regardless of the Inquisitor’s wishes.”

“If I allowed Ellana to bully me into returning home then the choice would be made for the wrong reasons,” Eirwen said. “I need to know I’m the right person, in the right place, at the right time. She can’t answer that, only I can.”

“Perhaps,” he began slowly, “there is some merit to Dalish wisdom after all.”

She arched a brow. “I’ll take the compliment as it was meant, rather than how it sounded.”

“I apologize,” Solas said. “You are wiser than most. I consistently find myself surprised by our conversations.”

Eirwen snorted. “Your bar is set incredibly low, Solas. Or, maybe,” her head tilted and she smiled, “you just have a low opinion of me.”

He sighed heavily. There was no way to escape it, he always seemed to offend one way or another. “That was not my intention.”

“Well, I’d say a gentle ribbing is in order,” Eirwen said. “I’m not the Inquisitor, so I don’t need to worry about bringing you down a peg or three.” She giggled. “I suppose I’m just lucky you haven’t gone off on silly Dalish superstitions.”

Solas studied her for a moment, incredulous. The knot in his stomach loosened and he smiled. There it was, he thought, that boundless, centered certainty. He knew he looked into the eyes of a woman who anchored the world. A leader, yes, and a spiritual guide. Yet, the more he looked the more he found he could not imagine her as a Keeper. She was something else. “What… do you think you might do if you were free?” He swallowed. “Should you choose not to return to your Clan.”

“There’s much of the world I haven’t seen,” Eirwen replied. “Perhaps, I’ll wander the wilds and find the secret places, or visit the Alienages to bring the city elves some comfort.” She rested her chin on her hand. “I doubt I’d ever stay in one place long.” Her lips twitched. “I can’t say the idea of being a witch ghosting through the woods doesn’t appeal, bound to nothing and no one.”

“What of relationships?” he asked, surprised by his boldness. “Walking the world by yourself would certainly be a lonely endeavor, though I am certainly not one to chastise such a choice.” His fingers drummed the table. “Have you not considered settling down, building a family?”

“Well, I do have an arranged marriage,” she said. “I suppose I could take it up again, but that would involve returning to the Clan.”

Solas choked.

Dabbing her mouth with a napkin, she smiled. “Honestly, Solas, I haven’t given it much thought.”

This actually answered the question of why Eirwen was at the Conclave, which I’ve actually never had a good answer to. I wasn’t actually trying to redress the whole Bioware concept of “Keeper wanted me to see the world” when a Dalish clan has too many mages and somehow I did. Since Keepers are closer to DnD druids and DnD druids are nature clerics, I’ve always ended up headcanoning that they’re more like shaman or, I guess, medicine men. They’re more than just keepers of knowledge or Clan Chiefs, they’re spiritual guides. I suppose we can call them counselors and therapists, and that spiritual leadership is important. It’s the kind of leadership that’s easily corrupted, and a choice that can be made for the wrong reasons.

We can’t discover if a path is what we want when we’ve never experienced anything else. When the road is hard and difficult, it’s even more important to know we chose to walk it. So, for Dalish mages, it’s less, “we’re kicking you out because we don’t have room for you” and instead, “you chose to leave so you could figure out if this crucial, important path of leadership is right for you and for us.“ A change in intention shifts the whole thing so much. It’s part of the training.

Eirwen takes that very seriously, but she’s always been filled with indecision. For her, traveling to the Conclave was a spiritual journey as much as a physical one. For Eirwen, I think the answer to being Keeper was always no. She doesn’t want that, she wants to find her own will to power and path of leadership.

It’s funny, I’ve been listening to the Lion King Broadway Recording lately and there’s a lot of themes there that connect with Eirwen’s journey. Endless Night is a really good one, Shadowland. (Shadowland works for Ellana too.) Also, He Lives In You.

(Yes, Ellana is the generic Inquisitor name so I went with that. She’s a Dalish hunter/rogue. I am sorry if your Inquisitor is also named Ellana and this one’s not like her at all.)

I find it a little fascinating that Eirwen and Solas have similar conversations when she isn’t Inquisitor. They’re actually less tense because she doesn’t have to play nice with him, there’s less concern over what is and isn’t appropriate. Fewer confusions about boundaries and relationships with subordinates. Solas is also more relaxed, mostly because he doesn’t need her or need her to be successful as a proxy for fixing his Corypheus mistake. He just isn’t sure what to do with her.

[luinquesse]

42 Character Development Questions! 20, 34 and 40 for Shae. :D

These are coming out so fricking long that I think I need to split them up. I will try to answer the rest later. I don’t know how well this fits the question, I think I kinda ended up rambling a bit too much xD

20. What kind of individual relationships do they have with others, and how do they behave in them? How are they different between intimate relationships like friends, family, and lovers versus more impersonal relationships?

Overall, Shae is highly vary when it comes to new people. He remains quite straightforward with his words, but he tries to watch out what he lets out. So he often ends up being the quiet one in the crowd, just listening and analyzing people. By default, he doesn’t really trust in peoples good intentions, even though he knows most people are not bad.

The more impersonal relationships depend really on whether he respects the other person or not. Shae will always be fairly respectful, he doesn’t see the need for unnecessary conflict if it can be avoided, but he will never back down on his opinions and will defend them. He will listen to reason, but he expects other people to do so too. Vivienne annoys Shae greatly. Shae hates the way she talks, the pretend niceties and her utter dismissal of his opinion. So whenever he has to deal with Vivienne, he keeps up a very cool, distant facade because he doesn’t want to get angry in front of her since it would just make him look ridiculous. 

People like Cassandra and Cullen he respects, but doesn’t really have anything in common with them and never really build any closer friendships. Shae will act very neutrally in this kind of relationships, mostly just listening and offering opinions when needed. When is comes to more closer friends, Shae looks for different things in different relationships. Some are for fun and good times, some are for interesting stories and learning new things, not really very deep but still important to him, and some are for deeper, more personal things. 

With Sera, he really tries to be fun and more outgoing, which is kind of exhausting for Shae sometimes, but he wants to do it. Even though Shae enjoys he’s friendship with Sera, he is still slightly wary on what he can tell her. Shae is far more open minded and interested in magic and the fade than he really lets on when he’s around Sera, because he doesn’t want to put a a stain on their friendship, which he values greatly. He loves Sera, and understand her fears about magic. If confronted, Shae will tell the truth, which has ended up with some shouting matches between them, so Shae tries to avoid these subjects most of the time and Sera makes it fairly easy. They focus on their common goals. The relationship he has with Sera is more about the fun and the adventure than anything deep or spiritual. He also gets along quite well with Josie, Blackwall, Varric and Bull, but Sera is the one he spend most time with out of these five. 

Solas was the non romantic friend Shae was most himself with really. He looked up to Solas and admired his wisdom and knowledge. With Solas, Shae felt like he could talk about practically anything, because Solas’ pragmatism gave room for a lot. When Shae spend time with Solas, he was full of curiosity and questions, and an avid listener.

And then of course, there is Dorian. Shae trusts Dorian enough to know he can talk basically about anything and doesn’t have to try to be anything else than himself. He often get lost in thoughts and might not be the most lively conversation partner, but he is a good listener. They’ve had their arguments about things, and Shae still is kinda vary about the subject of blood magic when it comes to Dorian. Shae agrees with Solas on that blood magic could be a tool just like any other type of magic if used correctly. So he doesn’t really bring it up, but he does that only because he knows Dorian would get angry about it and they would just end up arguing. Sometimes it’s better to just let it be. Dorian is many things Shae feels he should be; social, good talker, charming. So he looks up to Dorian in those qualities, even though he might not be able to pick them up very well himself. Shae loves how affectionate Dorian is, it makes him feel safe and wanted, something that a child who was adopted and always the odd one out, never really got.

[lobselvith8]

Dragon Age Questions

Based on the post by @raesand.

01) Favorite game of the series?

Dragon Age: Origins. I had a lot of issues with Dragon Age II and especially Inquisition.

02) How did you discover Dragon Age?

I heard you had player choice in Origins so I thought it would be entertaining. I honestly didn't know too much about it and I was pleasantly entertained.

03) How many times you’ve played the games?

I have played Origins the most. Before the recton, the Magi Boon made me pretty happy as it was the option my Surana Warden had chosen to emancipate his people from servitude to the Chantry of Andraste and the Order of Templars. The Magi Boon recton and the rather questionable creative choices for the elves subsequently soured the game for me.

Runner up would be Dragon Age II, although that's because I did a canon run; I wasn't too pleased with how the game was incomplete and how passive Hawke was throughout the narrative, such as doing nothing about Meredith's dictatorship for three years. Hawke being religiously Andrastian no matter what (Gaider forgot that he included an option for the player to be an atheist in the Human Noble Origin in Origins, and similar options were available for the elven protagonist and the Warden-Commander in the Awakening expansion) and the poor paraphrasing with the dialogue options also made me feel disconnected from the character.

The Last Court was pretty fun. The Elegant Abbess brought Carver to my Marquis of Serault. The Cult of Masked Andraste reminds me of the mythos of Silent Hill. The Horned Knight was very interesting (the presence of the dryads and fauns present at the Heartwood Feast was a neat addition to the lore). The Dashing Outlaw was fun (she gets a full pardon).

I pretty much gave up on Inquisition after an initial run; I tried doing a canon run but the anti-Dalish sentiment I kept running into made the game extremely unpleasant to play through as an elven protagonist. Generally, I was extremely unhappy with the railroading (like being forced to side with the Chantry, despite Gaider and Laidlaw claiming before release that this wouldn't be the case) and the poor treatment of the Dalish elves.

04) Favorite race to play as?

Elves.

05) Favorite class?

Mages.

06) Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time?

In Origins I entertained different choices with Zathrian's clan and the choices in Orzammar before coming to a canon decision.

07) Go-to adventuring group?

I prefer mixing it up.

08) Which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

My Surana Warden. Unlike some fans I do not imagine him wearing the Grey Warden armor introduced in Dragon Age II - he wears the Reaper's Vestments. "Reaper was an apostate mage who evaded the templars for many years before being captured. Part villain, part folk hero, it is said he led a charmed life avoiding dangers that would have killed lesser men."

His mother was one of the Night Elves during the civil war against Orlais. He was born in the Denerim Alienage, was forcibly taken from his mother by the templars at a young age, grew up to resent the Chantry controlled Circles (he was ideologically a Libertarian as he wanted the Circles of Magi to be autonomous), and he was a brilliant student of Irving's.

During the Fifth Blight, he was pragmatic, choosing to help Branka (since the Anvil historically provided a century of stability against the darkspawn), supported Taoran Hawkwind, aided the Antivan Crows, recruited Loghain to bring an end to the civil war and fold the tale of the Hero of River Dane into the story of Grey Wardens (to counter the anti-Warden sentiment that was established because of the tyrant Arland Theirin), killed the Messenger and opposed the Architect (there was a rather lengthy discussion at the now defunct BSN forums that brought up the prospect of sapient darkspawn wanting women to turn into Broodmothers in order to create new darkspawn that greatly shaped my decision).

His mother escaped captivity from the Tevinter slavers who had enslaved the Denerim elves during the Fifth Blight. Her freedom was due to the intervention of the Dalish in the Free Marches, including Clan Lavellan, attacking and killing the slavers, as the clans liberated many elves from the human slavers. His mother ended up joining Lanaya's clan when she discovered one of the pregnant elves was carrying her granddaughter.

My Surana Warden leaves the Warens to spend his remaining days with Morrigan and Keiran (who has black hair like both of his parents and looks Latino Antivan with an olive skin tone). Presumably his knowledge of blood magic should stave off the Calling if he was not able to find a way to rid his body of the taint (I lean towards the idea that he found a way).

09) Favorite romance?

DAO: My Surana Warden with Morrigan.

DA2: Merrill. Even if she was too good for Hawke.

The Last Court: The Elegant Abbess. My Marquis of Serault also discovered her role with the Cult of Masked Andraste.

DAI: No one. Although I like to imagine Revas meets Merrill post-game (I like to think Varric gifted my protagonist with the Hawke estate as part of the Comte boon).

10) Have you read any of the comics/books?

Yes.

11) If you read them, which was your favorite book?

None.

12) Favorite DLCs?

Awakening. Although my Surana Warden leaving with Morrigan in Witch Hunt makes it a close second for that alone.

13) Things that annoy you.

Inquisition's tendency to refuse to allow the player to have positive Dalish content without some anti-Dalish dialogue coming at your protagonist from advisers, companions, and even minor characters. It was getting incredibly annoying to deal with the incessant anti-elven rhetoric in a game that never held the Chantry of Andraste to account for the monstrous actions it committed for centuries, like criminalizing the elven faith or purging those of other faiths, or even being able to criticize Andrastians like Celene, who committed literal genocide in Halamshiral.

Also, why is the gameplay content in the occupied nation of the Dales, a predominantly elven region, focused on humans? And what is with the weird habit of the developers making characters of color into white characters?

14) Orlais or Ferelden?

Never Orlais, although I'd prefer the autonomous Dales freed from the Orlesian occupation.

15) Templars or mages?

Mages.

16) If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

I don't have multiple characters in Dragon Age. Each game has a respective protagonist since certain choices have no appeal to me (like supporting the templars or tradition in Orzammar).

17) What did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc.)

DAO: Dumat. My Surana Warden had a sense of humor.

DA2: Andoral. It had to do with the Archdemon who was slain during the Fourth Blight and the Hawke family connection to the Free Marches where the Archdemon was slain.

DAI: Sadly, there was no mabari. Maybe Andoral had puppies who stayed with Merrill.

18) Have you installed any mods?

I am on console, so unfortunately no.

19) Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden?

My Warden wanted freedom from the Chantry at any cost.

20) Hawke’s personality?

That was determined mostly by Bioware, like being religiously Andrastian. Leaned mostly diplomatic after Act I.

21) Did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition?

No.

22) If your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?

I'm sure Revas would stop Solas much sooner if that was an option.

23) Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

The 'three mage' recton has no place in my canon. While Inquisition prohibits the elven protagonist from doing anything to substantially help their people (which bothers me given the nature of the Inquisition), I prefer to imagine that Revas used the considerable fortune of the Inquisition to purchase land in the Free Marches for the clans of the Dalish to reside, and that the clans who worked with Revas would settle near Kirkwall. Revas uses the knowledge of the Well that he possesses to assist the Elvhen.

Revas would establish contact with the dwarves through the thaig in Sundermount for the lyrium trade, using the Nexus Golem there to incentivize them.

The Bone Pit (there are no monsters there anymore), which now belongs to Revas (along with the extensive Hawke estate), would be used to employ the Kirkwall Alienage elves. The Estate is where the plans against Solas take place.

Merrill and Revas get together (I imagine they met before during a previous Arlathvhen that took place). They get married. They have children. Revas does not have to sacrifice his beliefs or his culture for an Andrastian significant other.

The prospect of Merrill using her Eluvian knowledge to gain access to some of the Eluvian network, and establish a sanctuary for the Dalish away from the harmful Andrastian Chantry in Thedas, is also a very appealing one. So much about how this franchise presses the reset button on any elven progress annoys the hell out of me so keeping the Dalish on a continent full of bigots and genocidal leaders isn't really my ideal option.

24) Are any of your character(s) based on someone?

No.

25) Who did you leave in the Fade?

Hawke. Given his role in setting Corypheus free it was fitting that he gave his life to stop Nightmare.

Warden Loghain should have stayed to lead the Orlesian Wardens (which he would have hated) during this crisis with the Rift; it was a missed opportunity (then again, so many decisions in that game baffle me - like reducing a continental war to a small regional conflict and having the Wardens led around by the nose by a Saturday Morning Cartoon Villain).

26) Favorite mount?

I wanted Revas to have a halla mount.

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [773]

“It’s fine to have ambition,” Ellana had always warned him. “Just be careful to watch who you step over on the way up.”

He’d never told his family what his new job was, exactly. Just that it was confidential, involved a lot of travel, and could not be spoken of. They were not to bring it up in conversation. And if asked they could answer that he was a flight attendant for a private airline who’s name they can’t remember because it was so obscure.

Ellana should have joined with him. He would have told her to come with him, but —

“Your dreams are so small, sister,” he had always told her despairingly as she shrugged his words off. “There’s so much in you for this world, it seems a waste to hold it so close.”

There is no question that Ellana is a match for his skill in every field. She’s just as smart as he is, just as knowledgable, as much of a quick study, just as light on her feet and deft with her hands, and every bit as sharp where he is blunt. Mahanon would even argue that she’d be better at his job than he is because she’s so very good at getting people to talk to her. People just start spilling their life stories if they’re sat down with her long enough. Even if they’re cursing at her the entire time.

Ellana’s always been so good at people.

And yet he never listened to her. Well, at least — not when it counted.

She’d warned him so many times — watch who you step over on your way up — and he’d thought nothing of it. Why? Why didn’t he? He should have known better.

What arrogance on his behalf to think that he was so untouchable, that his defenses were so good that no one could hurt him —

Why didn’t he ever think about them hurting those around him to get at him? It’s something he’s done often enough. Why didn’t he ever think of applying it to himself?

Maybe it’s because Ellana is his match in every skill. Maybe he’s never thought to worry about her before. Maybe because he was so used to her in her small life in her small town, living out her small dreams, that it was impossible to reconcile the image of her being drawn into his life of infiltration and sabotage and machinations.

But it happened.

Mahanon wasn’t careful enough. Wasn’t watchful enough.

He had refused a job offer. He’d said no, Solas, I am not, in fact, interested in overthrowing every world government with you in order to equalize all poverty and excessive wealth and social strata by extreme violence and harsh adherence to predetermined eugenic beliefs.

Well. Not in so many words. But he had said no and Solas had said that’s a shame and Mahanon thought that was it.

And then there was the phone call. The frantic chase. The horrible realization.

The ride to the hospital. The message felt not in words but in meaning. The surgery. The intensive care unit. The wondering if she’d wake up — if she’d hate him when she did. The shame. The guilt.

There was calling their parents and having to explain to them —

There was, suddenly, the Inquisition at the door with a new job offer and Mahanon furious with grief caught between saying fuck off and where do I sign?

There was Ellana, pale and unmoving, looking so horrible on the hospital bed with the remnant of her arm freshly bandaged and braced so she couldn’t move it.

And she woke up and Mahanon didn’t know what to say.

I’m sorry? Forgive me? Thank you? I was afraid? I love you?

And her eyes met his and she didn’t smile, but she reached out her free hand for him and he went to her because he owes her everything.

She’d pulled and gestured him close, so close that her lips were brushing his cheek as she pushed out the words, “You did the right thing.”

And it broke his heart. Ellana’s words hurt him more than anything Solas could have done to try and get back at him.

“We’re going to move your sister,” the Inquisition told him. “We’ll find her someplace safe, off the radar.”

“I don’t want to know the details,” Ellana had said when they came into the room to discuss it with her. She was staring at her remaining hand, slowly opening and closing it. Lucky shot that Ellana’s already ambidextrous. “Do what you need to do. I’ll listen.”

And just like that Ellana was packed up, moved away, placed in some small little country village some three hours away from the nearest airport. A place so small it only has two bus lines and two gas stations. And Ellana looked around and said, okay.

“You could have picked somewhere else,” he’d seen the options they’d given here. There were others that weren’t as remote as this. “Maybe somewhere with a highway that doesn’t require half an hour’s drive to get onto.”

“It’s quiet here,” Ellana answered. “I think — I think I need that, Mahanon. I think I need to be quiet for a while.”

And a little while turned out to be a long time. A little while became a year, and then two years, and then three.

A little while turned out to be almost six years of solitude. Six years of quietly sitting, waiting for the world to happen to her because she didn’t want to happening the world. Six years of sitting in that little house in that little town. Six years of Mahanon trying to find Solas and make him pay for doing this to his sister with her little dreams that seem to have only shrunken and withered even further.

Six years.

And then a phone call in the night.

Mahanon doesn’t call her the next day to ask how it went. Even though his stomach ties itself into knots and he wasn’t able to go back to sleep the rest of the night. He doesn’t call her to ask or text her or even pick up his keys to go over there himself. Mahanon forces himself to stay inside of his apartment and wait.

It pays off.

Ellana texts him.

It’s seventeen words. Four sentences. Barely anything at all. It’s everything.

He gave me his number. He’s not staying.

But.

He said I could visit.

I said yes.