#nin lavellan

[sunshinemage]

Dalish husbands, side by side!

@ourinquisitorialness' son Thalon with Nin's color, mirorring Nin with Thalon's color 🧡💚

[musingmycelium]

we love oc kiss week in this house @sunshinemage MWUAH

Fire crackles warmly behind the gate, homely light cast in the dying evening. The Inquisitor’s quarters are inviting even when the Inquisitor himself is not there, charming, not quite home but not without its comforts either. Especially with the kettle sitting, still warm, beside the fire. The tea has long since steeped, pleasantly scenting the air and their conversation with hints of citrus. 

Not quite home, but Nin shares a smile over his cup as the evening light fades to orange; sunlight and specks of peel in the tea and isn’t there something about the way the light of the night blends into the comfort of a shared pot and a smile, and how could a poet think of anything else. Where is he to find another who will talk with him into the darkness the way Nin invites him to sit in his chamber well past dinner, well past evening. 

It isn’t nothing. There upon the bed is a blanket with embroidery Renenh knows, the weaver’s hands well familiar to his own; not home but not without its lingering memory. And memory is what they share, laughter too. Who else could know these stories so well? Who else can tell them with a smile as wide as their teeth allow? 

Two of them by armchairs unfamiliar so they sit upon the floor. No customs to find except their own. The fire built by a wave of Nin’s hands and Renenh brought the kettle and the leaves, easy in the way they talked around moving through the space around each other, empty gaps where their bodies fit. Skyhold is cold in the winter and the sun sets early.

But there are two mugs, one chipped and one painted yellow, with warm tea to wet their tongues when they tire of talking. 

Even if they never quite do. 

What to call a friend who is also home? Piecing together a strange new life out of the scattered remains of the old, singing songs in a language only they speak, sitting so their knees bump with each refill. 

His eyes are the same color as the setting sun. Through the glass window the dying sunlight envelopes the two of them, curling steam off their mugs, they are both friends of the dead. Dusk is only when the light matches their moods. Renenh has one hand propping himself up and the other drinks his tea slowly. It won’t go cold.

Not with Nin’s warm eyes and sunshine and the magic singing a fire into the grate. 

Not quite home, but not unfamiliar. 

If he were even a hair more his father’s child it would bring the tears already burning a threat behind his eyes falling down his cheeks. A joy so deep it simply cannot be contained. To weep for the setting sun and the smiles and the way Nin’s laughter brings harmony to Renenh’s. They’ve spent nearly the entire evening talking over nothing and everything in the same measure. 

He doesn’t want to leave. Never does, really, like a child with their favorite playmate always trying to squirrel more time out of the day. But the sun has well and truly set now, citrus and spice from the empty cups and the embers of Nin’s fire the only orange still left in the air. 

Renenh stands with a sigh and smile, setting his cup back by the kettle. Satisfaction turning his bones to lead. But his heart is light, and nothing is more buoyant. 

A goodnight kiss. Quick and familiar as every other. Renenh kisses Nin’s cheek in the same motion he uses to set down his cup before leaving. Orange scented sweetness. Home in a friend who keeps his tea warm and his fire burning through the night.

[shivunin]

Codex prompts, 11 or 13, for any of your Lavellans?

Thank you so much for the prompt! c: For something written about your OC in the two years between defeating Corypheus and the beginning of Trespasser: (1196 words, no warnings)

A letter of fine (if worn) parchment. It is sealed with emerald wax, a sparrow in flight pressed into the wax. 

My dearest Vernin, 

I can only hope that this missive finds you well and beyond the worst effects of that dreadful summer ague. It is a troublesome thing indeed when one cannot find prolonged rest from one’s duties, but I trust your retainer has had better luck than you at keeping out your rather formidable relatives. Good chap, Reginald, and all the more intimidating with every year that passes. You can tell him I said so—I think it would amuse him.

Now, as for myself—I must relate to you a most curious interaction I had this past week while journeying through the southern part of the empire. It is my hope that this strange incident will offer you some entertainment, as I have had difficulty thinking of anything else in the days since.

As I related when last we spoke, I have been journeying to my so-called sister in law’s family holdings in the Emerald Graves. There are many odd trinkets and curios which she had grieved most incessantly after the family was forced to flee to Val Royeaux. After weeks of hearing about it, I was happy enough to offer to retrieve them myself—empty manors being far better company than the woman in question. 

It was on the last leg of the journey, traveling through the Graves at last, when I heard the oddest sort of scratching sound off to the side of the main road. It did not sound like the many crows I’d passed that day, nor like the occasional august rams rooting about in the dirt. No, this sound rather reminded me of you, my dear, when you are most caught up in the fervor of your art. Of course, I had to step off the road and seek the source of the sound. I am far too curious a creature to do otherwise, as you well know. 

I am very glad that I did look, for on the other side of the rise I found an elven woman, hair wound about her head in an intricate helmet of braids. She was crouched before an odd sort of cairn and was taking a charcoal rubbing of the writing on the face of it. I do not know that she saw me before I spoke, but when I did she stood and reached for a staff half-fallen into the thick brush beside her. 

Well, I wished the lady (and I could see that she must somehow be a lady, for her cloak was as thick and fine as any of yours) a good morrow, asked her if I might inquire what she was about, all that sort of thing. All the while, she watched me with eyes of an uncanny green. I could swear, Vernin, that an uncanny light flickered behind them. It called to mind that most dreadful rift in the sky last year, and for a moment my usual ease with strangers nearly sputtered out entirely. 

“Thank you for asking,” she told me when I faltered, the picture of politeness. “I am making a survey of the area. There are grave markers like this all over the wood, you see, and I want to make sure they’re recorded somewhere in case some other conflict comes through and destroys them.” 

She went on to explain that she had made something of a study on the empire her people had built there, with a particular focus on the ruins scattered about the place. It is strange—I have gone to visit my brother more than once and I have never once wondered about the place beyond a passing idle curiosity. I’d intended only to see what she was about and be on my way, but I found myself offering her some of my own trail rations so I might go on listening to her talk about it. The lady accepted them graciously and offered some sort of tea in turn, a smoky-tart sort of thing I think you might have enjoyed. 

Now, I know what you are thinking, my darling Nin. “This story sounds rather like every other journey we’ve taken,” you might say, with a lovely smile tucked into the corner of your serious mouth. Ah, I suppose you might be right. It was not so very different from other meetings I have had on the road, after all. The difference here—aside from the lady’s near-encyclopedic knowledge of elven history in the region—is how our little repast ended. 

I was already shaking her hand and asking where I might find more comprehensive reading on the subject when a rather intimidating soldier woman stomped out from behind a nearby copse of trees. I suppose I might have thought the two of us in danger—her expression was grim as a funeral—except the lady turned with a smile and greeted the woman with a comfortable familiarity. We said our goodbyes then, and I might have never marked the entire incident as more than an interesting diversion from the course, if it hadn’t been for the name the soldier called her as they walked away. 

“Inquisitor,” she said. The Inquisitor.

 I am quite certain it really was her, too—her face had some otherworldly quality to it, as if she truly had been touched by the Bride herself. I have met the Inquisitor face to face, and even shaken her hand! Well, it is a great deal more than my brother has managed, no matter which strings he tries to pull in the court. I had quite the private chuckle over the entire affair, I can assure you of that! 

Of the rest of my journey, I fear I shall have to write in greater detail when I reach the next town. The light grows dim and I have already spent my last candle reading a volume on the history of the Emerald Knights.  

Do take care of yourself, my darling. I hope to pass your way again soon. 

Yours, 

Albertine D—

The signature at the bottom of the letter is faintly smudged along the surname. A postscript follows, written in slightly lighter ink:

The Inquisitor did say something you might find interesting. Well—I found it interesting, I suppose I ought to say. 

She said, “Each of these names had meaning beyond what we will ever hope to know. They are part of a story we may never find the beginning of, the ending of which will stretch far beyond our small lives. I am only a steward of the time in which they lived, and I will record all I can before I, too, am only a name etched in stone.” Or something like that—forgive me for paraphrasing.

I thought it a bit odd in the moment, if somewhat moving. Since then, I have been thinking—about your brother, dear Nin. I know you yet mourn him, and that his body has yet to be recovered from the Plains. I do not suppose that I’ve more to say here, only that—well. I thought you might want to hear those words, too. 

All my love, always—

A

[merrybandofmurderers]

“You cannot save people. You can only love them.”

—Anaïs Nin

The Lovers

Nydha Lavellan Ghilain x Dorian Pavus

for @calicostorms

[ID: nine square images of equal size.

image one - close-up of two people’s lower faces in black and white. their noses are touching and their lips are parted. the person on the right is caressing the other person’s cheek.

image two - a bathtub carved out of stone. it is filling with water that has pink petals floating on it. there are red lanterns sitting on the rim and a shelf carved into the wall. there are deep shadows and the light brown stone has a tinge of green.

image three - close-up of a white person’s shoulder. they have pale freckled skin and long red hair. the background is green.

image four - a pattern of flowers in shades of yellow, orange, and brown. there are sunflowers, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and daises. they are interspersed with green leaves, red berries, and small dark brown leaves.

image five - a white person’s hand holding a bouquet of wild grasses, small flowers, and a white rose. the background is black.

image six - dark wooden bookshelves with a ladder in front of them. the books are in shades of brown and green. some have gold detailing.

image seven - close-up of a brown man’s lower face. he has neatly-trimmed black facial hair. he is shirtless with his right hand resting on his shoulder. the background is light gray.

image eight - painting of a cloaked figure reclining. behind them is a bush with entwined branches. the figure and bush are in gold and the background is dark green. overlaid in capitalized white text are the lyrics, “gently / gently / the / constellations / aligned.”

image nine - back and white illustration of two skeletons standing among tall grasses. one is handing a flower to the other. /END ID]

[atthedas]

Mise à jour n°33

Crédits : Knight Lady (Brooks Kim, ArtStation) ; Inconnus, Tumblr ; Lavellan Portrait par Christina Kraus.

Il y a longtemps, les enfants regardaient les nuages en s'imaginant les formes les plus fantasques : ces masses blanches venaient d'Orlaïs ou d'Antiva et promenaient des chars tirés par des chevaux aîlés, des moutons heureux de jouer et des dragons dangereux. Cette allégresse s'est transformée en peur quand les moutons ont été abattus, que les chevaux ont henni de terreur et que le dragon a survolé la cité. Que c'est triste de lire les témoignages des auteurs contemporains vantant les jeux des enfants : ils sont souvent le signe d'une raréfication de leurs apparitions.

Il y a quelques mois encore, des jeunes gens admiraient les nuages en y projetant leurs rêves et leurs espoirs : des belles histoires d'amour, des élans de fraternité, des ambitions de grandeur et des oublis de décadence. Ils refont un monde qui tremble et menace de tomber. Ils fêtent sous le lustre de la salle du trône ou autour d'un arbre pluricentenaire. Ils construisent, rêvent, pleurent et rient alors qu'ils voient leur avenir s'effondrer, leurs vies menacées par un impôt exorbitant et par le besoin de bras armés pour défendre leurs murs, leurs maisons et leurs possessions…

Il y a désormais des adultes qui observent les nuages avec une crainte qu'ils ne cachent plus. Les réfugiés ne les précèdent plus, désormais : ils sont le dernier signe d'une apocalypse terrifiante. Frères et sœurs chantristes relèvent pour des températures bien élevées pour l'hiver et décrivent une dérangeante couleur pourpre. Thédas entier a les yeux rivés sur Starkhaven avec l'espoir que ses hautes et épaisses murailles arrêtent la marée de l'Enclin : je lis aujourd'hui encore les attentes des salons orlésiens et les refus des antichambres tévintides ; je découvre les plans de la Garde des Ombres et les préparations des autorités princières ; je devine la peur et les doutes de ces âmes qui cherchent la protection d'une place forte surpeuplée.

Les nuages n'auront bientôt plus de forme, plus de souffle, plus de couleur : ils isoleront Starkhaven du reste du monde alors que les engeances assiégeront la Cité des Princes. Une issue inéluctable ; le début de la fin ? L'espoir demeure, pourtant, aussi inaudible soit-il : sinon, je ne serais pas là pour vous transmettre leurs histoires…

Statistiques

Ainsi tomba Thédas compte actuellement 51 comptes pour 49 personnages validés ! Les Factions sont globalement toutes équilibrées, sauf la Garde des Ombres qui a un désavantage.

Animation en cours : Aucune.

Prédéfinie mise à l'honneur

Nom : Saoirse Dunne. Âge : 38 ans. Genre : Féminin. Peuple : Humain. Nation d'origine : Marches Libres (Starkhaven). Occupation : Capitaine de la Garde de Starkhaven. Religion ou croyances : Chantrie andrastienne. État civil : Libre (non mariée).

La valeur d'une femme ne se lit qu'au travers de son mérite : ce que les uns obtiennent avec faveur, ce que les autres perdent par fragilité, ne méritent que mon mépris. Je n'entends pas leurs plaintes et je fais taire leurs gémissements insupportables. Ma famille, certes noble, n'est qu'un nom parmi les plus anecdotiques de la cité : je n'ai réussi à devenir capitaine de la Garde de Starkhaven qu'au sacrifice de ma sueur, de mes larmes et de mon sang. Un bien maigre prix à payer pour protéger la cité et ses habitants des temps obscurs qui se Dévoilent. Maintenant pourtant que je suis au plus haut, je ne sais où regarder pour avancer : dois-je donc baisser les yeux de mon soleil pour redouter cet Enclin qui nous privera de toutes nos chances ? Voir plus...

Scénario mise à l'honneur

Nom : Ashatarsylnin Virnehn, dite Nin. Âge : Entre 25 et 30 ans. Genre : Féminin. Peuple : Elfe. Nation d'origine : Dalatiens (Clan Tanassavir Elle a été formée par son père, maître artisan du clan, mais son occupation actuelle est libre. Religion ou croyances : Panthéon elfique. État civil : Fiancée.

Cela fait quelques années qu'elle se sent enfermée dans le clan Virnehn et déçue des décisions de certains de ses dirigeants. Elle a l'impression que certains événements auraient pu être mieux gérés, certaines alliances maintenues, certaines règles modernisées… Nin est tiraillée entre sa loyauté envers sa famille et les Virnehn d'un côté, et son désir de liberté et de justice de l'autre. Elle espère que sa visite au clan Tanassavir lui permettra de prendre la distance nécessaire pour démêler son ressenti. Elle n'a pas le pas assez léger pour faire une bonne chasseuse mais possède un très bon sens de l'orientation et est extrêmement douée de ses dix doigts. D'un caractère affirmé, Nin sait ce qu'elle veut et pose facilement des limites. Elle communique beaucoup et avec franchise (parfois trop). Elle se montre protectrice avec ses proches, mais elle n'hésite pas à les secouer un peu quand elle juge qu'ils en ont besoin. Voir plus...

Organisation mise à l'honneur

Comme le Cercle de Starkhaven est situé dans l’enceinte même de la vieille ville, la garnison principal de l’Ordre y est adjointe : d’aucuns diraient que ce n’est pas la palissade derrière le parc qui sépare les mages du peuple, mais bien les dizaines de templiers en service, allant et venant à leurs affaires dans leurs armures étincelantes. La cité étant grande, ils logent parfois temporairement dans les garnisons des gardes, mais reviennent toujours prendre leurs ordres au Cercle.           Il est difficile de croire que l’Ordre des templiers se tient aussi neutre qu’il le devrait, tant il est devenu avec les années le repaire des enfants nobles, havenois et étrangers, dont on ne sait pas quoi faire : c’est d’autant plus remarquable avec cette tradition des Vaël qui veut qu’un de leurs enfants s’engage dans la Chantrie. Nombreux sont leurs fils au cours des derniers siècles qui ont fini Chevaliers-Commandeurs ; et cette habitude fut souvent suivie par les nobles familles, au point d’en agacer les Templiers plus modestes qui forment pourtant l’immense majorité de ces soldats religieux et qui aimeraient bien plus de reconnaissance. Les rapports de force et de frustration semblent néanmoins avoir été inversés avec l’arrivée du dernier Chevalier-Commandant, véritable gamin des rues dont la valeur se mesure plutôt par son dévouement au Créateur et à la surveillance des mages.           Il n'en reste pas moins que l'Ordre des templiers, étroitement lié au Cercle des mages, est respecté pour sa dévotion et son courage : pleinement intégré à la Chantrie et à son organisation, ils en sont le maillon essentiel. Le Cantique enseigne que le rôle premier des Cercles de Magie est de lutter contre l'Enclin, bien avant de permettre aux mages d'apprendre à contrôler leur malédiction, et le temps est venu pour le Cercle de Starkhaven de protéger la cité qui l'accueille. Au contraire des mages, les templier.e.s n'ont pas été réquisitionné.e.s de force, mais il doit bien rester des gardien.ne.s… et on le leur fait comprendre. Voir plus...

[ladyinthebluebox]

One Evening Sketch I/?? >> @sunshinemage's Nin Lavellan

soooo... i can explain.

had a shit day and decided that staring directly into the sun would help me with my woes so i run and stole the Sunshine Boy for a quick sketch. now my vit D deposits are replenished, my skin is clear and my mood majorly improved. i am also late for bed again but it was worth it.

[cdhurricane]

A little something for @sunshinemage 's #DTIYS challenge. I simply couldn't miss the opportunity to draw Nin in such stunning scenery.

[diableriepervert]

sometimes i remember that the companion i made and his post trespasser spy network aren't actually cannon and infact something i made up and put so much work into then did not tell anyone about it

[pathcrier]

My half of an art trade with @sunshinemage and their beautiful child

[amarmeme]

I created a new inky for a Josie romance play through: Mahanon Lavellan because I'm basic and couldn't think of a better name. 😁 I don't know how much playing time I'll actually get to, but I'm always a sucker for creating new OCs. All I know about him now is that his nickname is Nin because that's what his older sister called him growing up. Also, he's a bit of a nut about his bows, and he and Varric talk shop about fine dwarven vs dalish crafts. He's a big fan of Bianca.

[sunshinemage]

Suggestion (only if you wanna!): young Malina giving Nin a kiss on the cheek! Malina is age-mates with Thalon. I could see her getting tasked with babysitting duties around camp from a young age, if she isn't helping out at her family's store. She definitely sneaks treats for the adorablest little Nin. <3

i do wanna u_u

i think i may have made them a lil older than what you had in mind but essie aaaah i'm having EMOTIONS

[destinyapostasy]

As part of this meme, I did a trade with @sunshinemage to redraw one of her pieces in my own style. I picked this cute painting of Nin to paint :D 

[dartheames]

Hello @sunshinemage remember how you said Lapras was your favorite pokemon? Well I couldn’t focus on anything else after that and thus Nin became a trainer :D

I hope you like it! :)

I’m out of ideas for the rest of the month please send me your characters if you want a drawing like this :3

[lavellansthree]

⭐️? for whomever you like :3

⭐️ Our muses go stargazing together

“This is nice,” Cole said softly as he stretched out on his back, feeling the long blades of grass tickle his ears. The stars were bright and clear without a single cloud to obscure their view, even outshining the glowing scar left by the breach.

“It is indeed,” Nin responded, his eyes scanning the constellations as he leaned back on his hands. It had been quite some time since they had gotten together to reminisce and enjoy the stars above. The Inquisition and the trouble in Wycome had made any contact other than a few letters impossible.

Now that things had finally settled down, these old friends planned to spend the evening sharing stories and catching up beneath the stars. Only interrupted by their little ones, Atisha and Taashath, asking for the stories of their favorite constellations.

((Ahhh! You always pick the good ones and I’m super excited about Nin and Cole interacting! This was hard to work out because of their individual stories and it took a while to write such a short thing, but I worked it as Cole having stayed with the Clan while Nin was with the Inquisition. I mixed things together a little. I hope it’s okay.))

[ladyinthebluebox]

Travelling Keeper’s letter to Master Nindarhmen Lavellan

(Letter brought to Skyhold by a white raven was written with an unusually blue ink, clearly made out of some sort of flowers, whose fragrance was still present on the surface of rugged piece of paper it was written on)

Lethallin, I don’t need to call you Master Nindarhmen now that you are our Seneshal, do I? I know it’s been years since we’d seen each other but we used to be clan mates after all …

I’ve crossed the Waking Sea and set my feet on the Fereldan soil today. In a few weeks, you can expect me in Skyhold. Oh, my journey would be much faster if I had a hart … Maybe you know about a Dalish clan living between West Hill and your castle that might lend me one?

My unexpected visit is caused by a truly unique manuscript I borrowed from one of the clans from Antiva. Letters of it are shining with magic under the touch and when I concentrate enough while reading I… I can see things, Nin! I’m almost sure it is about some sort of an ancient library but, fenedhis, there are still parts that I'm unable to fully understand and it frustrates me. Years of travelling and learnig about our People and it’s still not enough... You must take a look at it and maybe together we will be able to uncover its meaning.

There are so many rumors about both you and Thalon ... Some of them are frightening me, some making me happy but we will talk more about them when I arrive.

I’m sorry about any mistakes. I’ve never been good at writing in common tongue ... I hope that my white feathered friend will find you quickly.

See you soon, Deirdre Lavellan.

P.S. Creators, it’s so cold here!

Hey, @sunshinemage ! Not so long ago you wanted Ocs to write Nin a letter and, since I got a little carried away, I’m posting the one from Derry here...

[ephemereon]

My part of an art trade with the amazing and kind @sunshinemage. You can see her part here ! (what do you mean you’ve been waiting for 36 years ? I’m absolutely on time. i’m truly sorry for the delaaaaaay T.T)

Nin offers a flower crown to Xalynir just after his daily training. You can see he’s quite happy with it... and slowly realizing the peonies (first stage blushing)... (Nin got that info from someone and he knows more than he wanted to...)

Xal is nicknamed “peony” by his lovers because reasons...

Flowers are : peonies (compassion, bashfulness), lilies (virginity, purity), daisies (innocence, loyal love), dandelion (faithfulness, happiness) and fern (magic, fascination, confidence, shelter) (which isn’t a flower, I know) -flower meaning

Thank you ! <3 Hoping to work with you again some time soon !