#magdalena trevelyan

[schwarznummer1]

I'm cut like a diamond shining in the rough

(Nine of Pentacles)

[anatidae-dragonage]

Heyyyyy it's Friday!! How abouttttt f!Trevelyan/f!Surana for ‘i do not expect my fingers to graze the sky.’ from the Sappho prompts?? Happy new year and happy writing!

Thank you for the prompt and the opportunity to write my beloved OCs! This is especially fun because in my longfic for these two, Sappho exists in-universe for the express purpose of Surana introducing Trevelyan to it. 😌 Not pertinent here though! So much younger than I've ever shared for them! Babies! (They're 18.)

Word Count: 1099

Rating: G

Pairing: Mag Trevelyan/Delilah Surana

@dadrunkwriting

For as long as she’d allow herself to remember, the Circle’s gardens had been Magdalena’s favorite place. Flowering bushes made a low maze of the courtyard, and vines that crept up fence posts and trellises bloomed purple and white in the spring. Even in the winter, the frozen birdbath and empty cobblestone paths had a stark beauty to them. Alone on a bench, or in the shade of an ornamental tree when the heat was stifling, she’d read a book or simply sit, watching the sky. 

For all Surana complained of them on the afternoons she joined her, she seemed taken by the gardens too. 

(“Have you ever seen a bird in that bird bath?” she would ask, and Mag would pause to think before answering,

“No. They must have learned to stay away from the apprentices.”

Surana would inevitably shake her head, and say something about clipped wings and cages, and Mag would inevitably tell her that she’d feel better if she stopped searching for the gray side of everything silver. Inevitably too though, once they lapsed into silence, Mag would look up from her page to see Surana watching the sky. Not smiling, maybe, but something close. It always made her heart skip a beat, and she’d look back down quickly, afraid to be caught staring. Afraid that if Surana thought to stop and think about the moment, it, too, would dim.)

Maybe there was something inherent in a Circle mage that made them look to the sky. For most of her life, Mag had wondered if the way the clouds caught and spun over Ostwick was unique, or if the thought was the product of isolation and daydreaming. She’d asked Surana once. Her smile had been wry.

“There wasn’t much space back at Kinloch for craning our heads out windows.”

In the quieter hours, though, Mag heard about the fog that had blanketed the lake and the constellations viewed through paned glass, and the stormy skies on her long journey from Ferelden to here. Surana watched. It was one of the things she did most. 

Sometimes in the garden they did see birds, not flirting about in the birdbaths, but dipping in the sky overhead. Surana liked the way that eagles circled and soared. Mag liked the way the starlings danced. Today was a warm day, one of the firsts of spring, and they weren’t the only ones in the gardens. A senior enchanter painted nearby, and every so often a fit of giggles seized a table of apprentices across the yard. 

“You’re going to give yourself a headache like that,” Surana warned her. She was reclined on the bench, long hair splayed over the edge, but Mag felt her eyes boring into her more than the sky. Mag, on the other hand, sat straight with her head craned back. Songbirds were hopping between high-up parapets, and every now and then she could hear their agitated chirps as they fought over nesting spots and split twigs. 

“I don’t mind,” she said. 

“Magdalena—“ 

Mag was too distracted to realize that Surana was reaching for her until it was too late, and the squeak she gave and the oof Surana let out when Mag’s elbow hit her stomach caused a sudden silence from the apprentice table. Mag now lay stiffly against Surana’s chest, and for a moment Surana held her tight, frozen and silent. After a beat, Surana laughed, grip relaxing, and Mag squirmed free. She fixed her with a halfhearted dirty look. 

Surana sat up too. 

“Let’s at least walk.” 

Mag paused. 

“Fine.”

The gardens were longer than they were wide—a courtyard caged by the Circle’s buildings—so a full loop around took mere minutes even at a leisurely pace. Mag gave up on watching the birds and looked to the shrubbery instead. Tiny green buds were forming at the tips of bare branches, and the waxy-leaved evergreens were looking brighter. 

Life went on—circles, cycles. Soon the birds at the parapets would have hatchlings. She would watch them learn to fly with patchy wings. Flowers would bloom again. Leaves would broaden and turn towards the sky. This would be Surana’s first spring in Ostwick, she realized. She’d arrived in the stormy first month of summer the year prior.

“Here,” Surana said quietly when they got to the far end of the ellipse. She’d stopped Mag with a hand at her elbow, and for a moment they hovered in the middle of the path. “Sit.” 

“Sit?” She looked around, but she’d been this way a hundred times and nothing had materialized.

“On the ground,” Surana prompted, sinking slowly downward, one hand still on Mag’s arm. Uncertain, Mag let herself follow. On the cobblestone, they sat cross-legged. Surana’s eyes were softer than they often were, but they still had that sharp sort of glitter. “Now lay back.”

“Lay—“

“Come on,” she insisted, losing what little patience she possessed, and awkwardly, Mag began to lower herself to the stone. She saw Surana roll her eyes from the corner of hers, then felt two strong hands under her shoulders. Surana hauled Mag onto her lap, where she lay stiff and uncertain. She could feel Surana’s body shift when she sighed. “Relax,” she said. “And look at the sky.”

Mag closed her eyes and drew a breath. Slowly, she pushed the tension from her muscles, the awareness of her body on the stone from her back, and the presence of her head on Surana’s thigh from her mind. When she opened them again on her exhale, she could see the sky. From the place and angle where they sat, it was open, the walls and towers of the Circle out of view, and Mag’s breath caught unexpectedly in her throat. 

Surana let her sit for a long moment, body lax beneath her, before she said,

“Nice, yeah?”

A blank cerulean canvas, not a cloud nor cobblestone in sight.

“Nice,” she agreed, afraid to say anything else. For a moment Surana’s hand cut across her vision, fingers streaking along the sky like they were tracing the path of some invisible bird before falling back to her side. 

They lapsed into silence. Far from the other end of the courtyard, Mag heard the distant shrieks of apprentice laughter. There was an angry chirping from songbirds far above, and the stir of still barren branches in the slight breeze.

She looked at Surana's face. She was staring up at the sky, smiling. She must have felt Mag’s gaze, because her eyes dropped but her grin didn’t. Mag’s heart skipped a beat anyway. She repeated,

“It’s nice.”

[rynegaias]

blackwallmancer’s who really lean into the herald of andraste thing i ❤️ you

[psychcwound]

tags

[an-egg-broke-my-heart]

I’ve been meaning to finally put all of my babies in one place, and here they are!

Template is by Marian Churchland, and she gets full credit for the additional icons I edited for each game as well:

Art Credit: WS1 by mochiibunns / WS2 by lillotte17 / WS3 by psylkii / WS4 by codenameyan / WS5 by badwolf626

[schwarznummer1]

WIP WEDNESDAY!!!

I'm trying to draw a tarot for Leni...it's harder than I expected but DAMN LOOK AT HER MY GURL SO PRETTY

[anatidae-dragonage]

Welcome to dadwc!! "I’ve no language left to say it. All I do is quake to her," from the song lyric prompts really intrigued me. Feel free to write for a pairing of your choosing!

Three months later I'm getting around to a welcome prompt! Thank you asgkghjgf. Lyrics are from “Foreigner’s God” by Hozier, which I now have spent 5 hours listening to today.

I went OC rarepair, my Delilah Surana x Magdalena Trevelyan, and then it got a little out of hand.

Set in an AU where Surana was transferred to the Ostwick Circle after the uprising and Trevelyan is now Inquisitor, successor to this piece I wrote for an exchange.

Word Count: ~1800

Rating: E for brief sexual content near the end

(More plot than porn, but it’s there.)

Pairing: f!Surana/f!Trevelyan

Warnings: Explicit/NSFW, religious themes, angst

@dadrunkwriting

~~

The night is dark and moonless as Magdalena slips from camp, heartbeat fast in her throat. Meet me, the note had said, and nothing else. Meet me. She knows where on instinct--the fields south of the Crossroads, the last place they’d brushed lives before slipping away. 

They were always meant to slip away.

She’d waited until the guards’ shift change, fleeing through the Hinterlands on silent feet. You can leave when you want now, a voice whispers in her head, the one that’s always sounded like Hers. The issue isn’t the when. It’s the where. It’s the who. She prays that Cassandra and Dorian sleep through the night. She prays that Varric, who pretends not to see, doesn’t tell. She prays she’ll make it back before sunrise.

She shivers as she finds the path that parts the trees. Somehow, it had been hard to imagine the chill in the daylight. They’d collected coats and blankets for refugees, but now Magdalena wishes she had kept one for herself. Back in Haven she has furs, a cloak hardly fit for battle, but warm and her own. She imagines Surana’s face if she’d shown up wrapped in ermine and has to smile. She doesn’t risk magic though as she shivers, nothing to warm or shield, nothing that will glow as she stumbles in the dark. Too many dangers. It’s stupid enough to be out here alone, but she just has to see her.

She just has to see her.

Silhouetted in meager starlight, Surana waits for her in the center of the field. She’s coatless too, thin robes torn and patched, frays clear even from a distance. Magdalena had pointed her to a cache, but six blankets wouldn’t have gone far through the forces she knows Surana has.

Forces. Surana would scowl to know she thinks it. There are children in their midst, Magdalena knows, and tranquil, elderly, weak. Forces. Is it the Inquisition’s influence, or what her own mind had shaped of the rebellion?

She fights the urge to run to her, fists clenched at her sides to keep from waving as she walks steady. She has hopes and dreams, and none match the tone of this meeting. Surana smiles, though, when they’re close enough to see the outlines of each other’s faces in the dark.

“You came,” Magdalena breathes, as if Surana hadn’t been the one to send the invitation.

“Have I ever lied to you?” The question hangs heavy in the air. She hasn’t. The implication is clear. Can Magdalena say the same?

“Why?” she brings herself to ask. Surana shakes her head.

I had to see you again, Magdalena wants her to say.

“I had to know if you were okay.”

She almost laughs. Okay doesn’t exist in the same realm as this world they live in. Her eyes scan the shadow of furrows in the dark. They weren’t left by plows or hoofprints. The land is bloody, scarred by magic, grenades, and untold sorrows. Okay doesn’t exist in Haven or in her friends’ eyes. There’s hope. There’s hunger. There are stolen moments of joy. Okay takes a neutrality Magdalena doesn’t know if she’s ever known.

 She knows Surana hasn’t.

“Mag.” The voice cuts into her thoughts.

“I’m okay,” she says. More okay than the nightmares Surana has likely spun for her. She’s not held captive or at a Templar’s sword. She doesn’t stay up weeping, longing for home.

“Mag.”

She dosen’t want to cry tonight. Doesn’t want Surana to see her the way Delilah always had. Delilah, a name no one else had ever been allowed to use. No one but Magdalena—Mag, then, now. No one but her until the night on the hill they’d finished the job of twisting each other’s heart out and gone their separate ways.

What is this now? 

They’d kissed in this field, in the full sight of Cassandra.

“Are you safe?” she asks instead of answering. Surana’s smile is wry. 

“I’m safe.” Get what you give, the message is clear. She’d always been like that, a narrow and burning sense of justice. Eye for an eye, heart for a heart. They’ve both grown in the months since they’d parted, Mag knows, in the years since they’d first met, but something about the look in the other’s eyes always brings them back here. 

I’d get on my knees for you, Delilah had said once, eyes wide and somehow terrified. She wouldn’t now, Mag knows, and that thought brings her something close to comfort. So many would, for the Herald of Andraste. Had those years in Ostwick’s chapel granted her blessing or curse?

Delilah had never kneeled before the Maker. She doubts Surana would start now.

Mag shakes her head to clear it, and the anchor crackles.

“It isn’t safe here,” she tells Surana as she briefly glows green, and then regrets it, not ready to be sent away.

“I know a place,” she responds though, and when she offers a hand Mag has to swallow hard. Her voice dips somewhere close to a teasing tone. “And I’ll protect you.”

Her go to phrase, but in their years in Ostwick’s Circle, who had been protecting whom? 

Surana’s hand is familiar in hers, but she can feel the criss-crossing of scars left by her magic.

Your friend is a blood mage, Cassandra had said. Friend, lover, enemy. They’d never quite found a word for it.

Which would they be tonight?

Surana leads her across a sunken bridge and over a series of boulders, and Mag can hear rushing water ahead with a crisp echo. They walk upstream, silent as they balance on flat river rocks, and Mag thinks of what she’ll say. 

She thought they’d said goodbye already. She thought they’d spoken their piece in the daylight.

“Here,” Surana breathes. They come to a pool, hidden behind rocks and shrouded in a waterfall. Surana drops to all fours to crawl behind it and then offers her a hand. Equal ground, Mag thinks as she too drops to her knees.

They sit on the stone and just watch. Mag wonders if Surana can hear her heartbeat, see the way her eyes fall to her lips in the dark. Let me show you, a part of her whispers. Show her what? she argues back. The feeling is unnamable and overwhelming, makes her stomach drop and her hands itch.

“You’re doing it again,” Surana says. Mag’s eyes snap back to hers—It’s dark, but she imagines them as warm and brown, in this moment the same as ever. 

“Doing what?”

“Overthinking. Arguing with yourself. Arguing with your Maker.”

“That’s your job,” she answers on instinct, but Surana only shakes her head. She looks then doesn’t. She almost reaches out. “Surana….”

“Don’t call me that tonight.”

That’s all it takes to break her—the part that knows this ends one way, the part she’d tried to build stony against heartbreak. Surana—Delilah sees the pain in her eyes and moves in to kiss it away. Mag lets her tip her backward against the damp sandstone, leg swung over hers, curtain of tangled hair shielding them from the night.

“Delilah,” she whispers instead, and Delilah laughs against her lips, pulling back just enough to breathe:

“I hate it.” She kisses her. “Say it again.”

“Delilah.” 

Mag knows she wants the upper hand, knows from the hunger of the kisses she presses to her lips and then her neck, knows from the tension in the arms that frame her face. She knows everything that Delilah has to say and every move she’ll say it with. And Delilah has the words Mag has never been good with, has never been brave enough for. She pushes herself up on her elbows, because this is all she can give her. This is the only way she has to say it. The only reprieve she can offer.

With gentle hands, she urges Delilah up and backwards, and through the palm on the center of her chest she can feel her heartbeat. She risks a magelight, blue and flickering, to see Delilah’s eyes. There’s none of the uncertainty she fears she’ll find there. Delilah grins, gaze flicking to the light and back to Mag again. One hand reaches up to stroke her face, but it doesn’t push her away. Down they go, Mag on top, Delilah’s hair fanned beneath them, and in a different time Mag would have washed it and combed it and braided it away. Tonight she kisses her, slow and sweet, real and unyielding. 

Tonight she makes love her apology.

Tonight she lifts Delilah to the Golden City that she doesn’t believe in, before it was black and broken.

One hand cups her cheek, holds her close, holds her steady. The other moves down Delilah’s body, slipping under seams and undoing buttons. She wears the same robes she’s always worn, no surprise. Mag knows how to move them up, leave them fanned like angel’s wings, and she smiles as her fingers release the final loop. Delilah’s body is muscled now, scarred. It’s still warm and thrumming with the magic she’d never quite wanted to control.

“Ah,” Delilah gasps against her lips as her fingers squeeze her hips. “Magdalena.”

“Mag,” she insists. She is Magdalena to the Inquisition. Let her be Mag here tonight. Slowly she slips down Delilah’s body, apologetic kisses to her jawline when she leaves her lips, gentle ones that skim her throat and move down her front, over her stained robes and to where they’re parted. When she licks a trail below her navel, Delilah shivers and weaves a hand through her hair. 

“Delilah,” she whispers again before dropping down. Delilah and Mag, the people they can’t afford to be. 

It’s easy, returning here. As practiced as prayer. Dark and hot and honeyed, electric and raw. Delilah gasps when she comes, shaking under her lips and hands, fingers scratching against the rock instead of knotting in her hair. She pants but doesn’t make another sound.

There are tears in both of their eyes when she resurfaces. 

And they don’t speak. Delilah kisses her, more gently than she ever has, and when she lays her down on the rocks she knows this is the only conversation they’ll have. The only thing that won’t drag on the hurt. 

When Mag hears a bird’s song she knows it’s time to leave. Delilah seems to sense it. 

“Thank you for coming,” is all she says, and when Mag stands she climbs to her feet beside her. There’s no witty comment that follows. There’s nothing sappy in reply. 

Tomorrow, Mag leaves for Redcliffe, and then she leaves the Hinterlands behind. They’d already said their good lucks and goodbyes. This was extra. Salt in the wound. Honey in the pot.

“Yeah,” she says ineloquently. Their walk back down the stream is on wobbly legs. They split back near the field, Magdalena to her camp and Surana to hers. 

“Wait,” Surana whispers before Magdalena turns her back. “Andraste light your path.”

Magdalena breathes deep. 

“And you light yours.”

[augustatheodora]

Why can’t my inquisitor romance Josie AND Cullen tho?

Like I’m 99% sure they’d both be down for that.

[pinayelf]

if you don't mind i would love to hear about Mayari!! what's her story? and she's an inquisitor right? who are her friends in the inquisition??

I don't mind at all ^_^ ty!

She's technically an NPC in the story for my Trev, Gabe! But I am planning on making her in DAI and doing a run because I just love playing the game djdjdj

I have two ideas for a backstory but this is the one I'm going with for the moment:

Her inquisitor run and her Canon backstory is p much the same. Her family comes from Seheron and she is the eldest of three. They had a fishing business at a Port city (hence her surname Tabingdagat which means "by the sea" in Tagalog). A Tevinter attack destroyed that section of the port and they lost everything. So her family immigrated to Ostwick to start over. Mayari was about 8.

However, there was too much competition with already established businesses so her family struggled and food was scarce. Mayari is a mage so she got caught doing magic in the market district and someone called the Templars. Her parents urged her to go with them because they were under the belief that at least she would have shelter and be fed. This hurt Mayari - but she went. Her family promised to keep in contact, but most commoners lose contact with their family in the Circle, so unfortunately she did too.

Mayari accepted her fate. She didn't like being in the Circle, but since the age of 9 it's all she ever knew. Her magic was mediocre and she barely passed her Harrowing. So she focused on alchemy and herbology instead. However she did make very good friends: Magda Otranto, Gabe Trevelyan and Langdon. You can read about them here!

In her Canon worldstate, after the Circles fell, she and her friends get separated from Gabe when they escaped. They ended up in Redcliffe with Fiona and got caught up with Alexius. They end up joining the Inquisition when Gabe sides with the mages.

In her inquisitor run, she and her friends make it to Ferelden with Gabe. Langdon is hurt by one of the Blighted wolves so they take shelter in an abandoned cabin near Temple of Sacred Ashes. Mayari and Magda go look for help, but they get separated. Mayari ends up at the Temple and we all know what happens there. Her friends remain safe because they were far from the blast, including Magda. And ofc they immediately join the Inquisition when she becomes the Herald. I just ended up loving their friendship so I couldn't have them die 😭 haha.

As for her friends outside her circle buds, in canon she and Langdon are buddies with Adan because they ended up all working together. She also befriends Dagna and the Singquisition. Idk yet about the inner circle, I'm gonna see how it goes down when I do her playthrough ^_^

This was long but I hope you liked this piece of ~lore lol

[an-egg-broke-my-heart]

@isalavhenan tagged me to make some OCs with this piccrew! Have some:

Magdalena Cousland/ Merrick Hawke / Nolanni Lavellan

Freya Brosca / Marigold Hawke / Adelaide Trevelyan

[an-egg-broke-my-heart]

@sopml tagged me to do this DA doll maker and... i may have gone overboard and made every one of my elven and human ladies ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Magdalena Cousland / Eloris Mahariel / Rille Tabris Marigold Hawke / Shyloh Hawke / Nika Hawke Nolanni Lavellan / Adelaide Trevelyan Jutta Hellasdotten (Avvar Inky) / Marsilia Valisti (Antivan Inky)

tagging @thedalishdelight, @faelavellan​, @waterwhisp-rivergoblin​, and @another-rogue-trevelyan​ if ya feel like it

[an-egg-broke-my-heart]

ok I know I SAID I was done posting artbreeder OCs but I saw other people adding their OC’s tattoos and I needed to do it toooo

WS1: Magdalena Cousland / Kai Hawke / Nolanni Lavellan

WS2: Elaith Surana / Marigold Hawke / Adelaide Trevelyan

WS3: Freya Brosca / Merrick Hawke / Nazal Adaar

WS4: Rille Tabris / Nika Hawke / Jutta Hellasdotten

WS5: Eloris Mahariel / Shyloh Hawke / Marsilia Valisti

[an-egg-broke-my-heart]

Hey! Random OCs question, if you don't mind it. If your character was a deity, what would they be a god/dess of?

I NEVER mind, I love when you send these!!! ❤ This took forever for me to answer because it was so good, I needed to do it for all of my babies.

Magdalena Cousland: Retribution and vindication. Justice.

Kai Hawke: Love and marriage. Family.

Nolanni Lavellan: Refuge, sanctuary, honest shelter, protection. Home.

Elaith Surana: Power and strength. Fire.

Marigold Hawke: Controversy. Strife. Emotion.

Adelaide Trevelyan: War and order, courage, battlelust.

Freya Brosca: Conversation, cheer, and humor. Language.

Merrick Hawke: Death and loss. The afterlife. Loneliness.

Nazal Adaar: Passion. Freedom and equality.

Rille Tabris: Art, music, dance, poetry, literature. Beauty and adoration.

Nika Hawke: Faith, dedication, forgiveness and condemnation.

Jutta Hellasdotten (Avaar inky): Survival, the hearth and the hunt. Agility.

Eloris Mahariel: Obidience and sacrifice.

Shyloh Hawke: Health and sickness, healing, fertility.

Marsilia Valisti (Antivan inky): Deception, persuasion, and trickery. Wisdom, knowledge, and secrets.

Taevin Pavus (Tevinter inky): Life, growth, and unity.

[an-egg-broke-my-heart]

Oh no! I made all of my children in picrew again.

Magdalena Cousland / Freya Brosca / Rille Tabris

Marigold Hawke / Merrick Hawke / Nika Hawke

Nolanni Lavellan / Adelaide Trevelyan

Nazal Adaar / Jutta Hellasdotten

[an-egg-broke-my-heart]

Magdalena Cousland / Kai Hawke / Nolanni Lavellan

Elaith Surana / Marigold Hawke / Adelaide Trevelyan

Freya Brosca / Merrick Hawke / Nazal Adaar

Rille Tabris / Nika Hawke / Jutta Hellasdotten

Eloris Mahariel / Shyloh Hawke / Marsilia Valisti

It's been a while since I posted all of my children so may I present all five of my world states made with this picrew.