#oc: eimhin lavellan

[sovaharbor]

eimhin lavellan (and the funny progression of emotions i noticed during this quest): pt. 4/?

[sovaharbor]

i.....started trying to work on a map for my dragon age PCs and.... i..... what the fuck is this. like i specifically chose PCs that COULD be interconnected (and in the case of eimhin he's just wildly canon divergent so he COULD be interconnected w/ the other two) but like. dear god. this is something

[sovaharbor]

eimhin lavellan. (plus his boyfriends) / pt. 2 of ?

[sovaharbor]

posted this on r/da's weekly writing thread forever ago but now i'm putting it here bc i was thinking about it

Eimhin Lavellan hadn’t been home in years. Too many by now. The location of his clan had changed multiple times since he’d last seen it – and no longer could he trace his way through the familiar forests he once knew, using fallen trees and mossy rocks as markers to guide his way. The land here was more open, yet still overgrown. Weeds had sprouted, vines had overtaken the makeshift fences used to keep the halla reigned in, and the aravels were weathered down, their paint faded and their wood chipped.

The humidity of the soon-returning rain clung to Eimhin, almost weighed him down further with each step – or maybe that was the mud mucking his boots up. To say Eimhin wanted to return to his clan would have been a stretch, and a long one at that. Probably as long a stretch as he was tall, he wagered, as he stopped beside the Iron Bull, head coming to rest against his large shoulder.

“This is it?” the Iron Bull asked quietly, as if he didn’t want to disturb the peace that had fallen amongst the camp.

Eimhin hummed in confirmation. “Right before your very eyes,” he murmured. “Rather pretty, don’t you think?”

“Bit of a doozy, really,” Sera quipped from behind. “You sure you want to be here, Inquisitor? Not much of a welcome party, I’d say.”

“Vishante kaffas,” said Dorian. He walked up to Eimhin’s other side, standing resolutely there beside him. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, he snapped at Sera, “A little decorum might serve you well, don’t you think?”

“I’m just bein’ honest!”

“Is now truly the best time for—“

“It’s fine,” said Eimhin, his voice coming out a bit tighter and louder than he’d intended. At once the bickering quieted, and he could feel Sera’s eyes at the back of his head, Dorian’s and Bull’s beside him; it made him antsy. Fuck, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Sera was right.

But still, Eimhin’s legs suddenly carried him forward. He felt Dorian’s fingers catch his wrist, holding on loosely, and Bull’s hand settle itself at the small of his back. Sera’s footsteps picked up behind him after a moment’s pause, squelching through the mud. It was like there were eyes permanently stuck on Eimhin and his little group, watching their every movement. He wondered what his parents might say, seeing him with a Tevinter human and a hulking Qunari linked to him like that. Or what his Keeper might say to Sera; he’d sooner guess it’d be an offer to stay rather than a demand to leave. Eimhin wasn’t so elf-y anymore, either; the Circle had changed him, even though the vallaslin inked into his skin months before his capture served a permanent reminder that this, here, was where he would always be from.

Suddenly, Sera swore. A beat later, she exclaimed, “Maker’s tits, who leaves a half-broken dagger laying around for someone to trip over?”

All three remaining in the group whirled around. Sera was frowning, hastily trying to wipe all the muck off the hilt of the blade.

Eimhin’s ears twitched uneasily. “Let me see it,” he said, brushing past Bull and Dorian to reach for the blade. Sera handed it over without any fight, and Eimhin used the end of his cloak to clean off the mud and dirt and—blood. It flaked off easily, and revealed a name carved into the hilt. “Ithara.” Eimhin swallowed thickly. “This was…“ 

He looked up, eyes scanning the desolate remains of his clan’s encampment. The bodies had long since been cleared away, buried properly under the instructions of the few scattered survivors who’d left in search of other clans to take them in. None of them wanted to remain, surrounded by such ruin—of course not. Why did Eimhin ever think it’d be a good idea to come here?

“Did you know them?”

Dorian’s voice was so quiet Eimhin had to strain to hear it amongst his thoughts. A quick glance showed him Sera’s expression had morphed from annoyance to something much more somber in only seconds, and Eimhin didn’t even want to imagine what Bull looked like.

“I did,” said Eimhin. His voice had grown even tighter as he strained to keep it from wavering. “Of course I did. She was— When I was in the human village, she was with me, an’... We were tradin’ skins, ‘cause we needed more flour and things, so– so when I—“ Eimhin took a deep breath, trying to stem the panic rising up in his chest and the tears he felt pricking at his eyes. “She tried to save me. An’ I couldn’t save her.”

“Kadan, this wasn’t your fault,” said Bull.

“It was,” said Eimhin. “Don’t fuckin’ try an’ tell me it wasn’t. If I chose better, this never would’ve happened. This shouldn’t—“ His voice cracked, and he took in a shuddering breath. Rather than turn into a blubbering mess in front of some of his closest companions, Eimhin hastily stowed the broken blade in his pouch and began to march in the quickest direction he could find that lead away from the encampment.

“You’re going?” Dorian called after him. “Amatus, Scout Harding let us know where the tree was planted. I thought you wanted to—“

“I wanna leave,” Eimhin snapped back. He refused to turn around, because the tears had already begun to fall. If he kept his distance, he knew his companions would too.

And surely enough, the three merely exchanged uneasy glances before falling into step behind Eimhin, leaving enough distance between them that they could feign ignorance over having heard his sobs.

[sovaharbor]

eimhin lavellan (being pretty even when emotionally distressed): pt. 3/?

[sovaharbor]

eimhin lavellan. pt. 1 of ?