#sicsemper: emrys lavellan

[immobiliter]

       “ Thank you for looking out for him. ” They were both stood on Skyhold’s battlements, overlooking the bustle of the courtyard below, but her gaze wouldn’t leave one particular figure, tall and beautiful and easy to spot in the crowd, in the same silver and blue uniform that she’d worn for the past decade with such pride. After all she’d heard of the Wardens since her departure from Ferelden on personal business, perhaps it was safe to say that pride had been damaged, somewhat, but Val could still remember those days when it had been a crime to call herself a Grey Warden at all. She hadn’t backed down then and she wouldn’t now, not when the Wardens in Orlais at least appeared to have been forgiven, if not entirely redeemed.

        There was a silent appreciation for that judgement, too, in the way her eyes finally shifted to her companion, to this Inquisitor her husband had told her so much about in his most recent letter. The letter that Val was happily using as her excuse to finally return to him. Another Dalish elf determined and ready to save the world, he’d said, and perhaps that was yet another reason why she’d hastened back to Ferelden at the first opportunity. To meet this elf that she already felt as if she knew, strangely enough, despite the pair only having exchanged a few words so far. The only real difference between them, she fancied, was that it had taken far longer for Val to get her castle.

        “ What Warden Commander Clarel did... ” Her voice trailed off, and she turned her head, struggling under the weight of the guilt that had been gnawing at her ever since she’d gotten word. “ I should have been here. I’m sorry I wasn’t. ”

@sicsemper​  /  emrys

[aworldofyou]

HERE LIES THE ABYSS • THE SACRIFICE

 Marian Hawke   -    “  say goodbye to varric for me.  “                                  “  safe harbors, isabela  “                                  “  sing for me, carwen   “

[copiesofme-archive]

A POV DRABBLE, OF THE FIRST TIME LELIANA ENCOUNTERS LAVELLAN. FOR @sicsemper​​

       There was a time when Leliana had looked upon Haven for the first time. When the life of the Arl of Redcliffe had hung in the balance of a plea made to search for a temple that had been lost for a millennia. It was a fight no matter where their party had landed, what with the blades of the Crown at their heels, the darkspawn in front of their shields, and bandits around every corner. Finding the Sacred Temple once had felt like they were firing at the moon with both eyes closed in the dead of morning, and landing upon Haven’s entry way was the first step of a miracle. Short of running head first into the cult that had taken spawn here, Leliana can remember her own intrigue piquing at her thoughts with every new find that they had. 

        Nothing had prepared her to come face to face with the Guardian. Yes, she still recalls the echo of his voice that seemed to reflect into their very souls. When your brothers and sisters of the cloister criticized you for what you professed. You were hurt, but you also reveled in it. She remembers the pang in her chest even now, as he spoke. It made you special, you enjoyed the attention, even if it was negative. And then there was the anger, the humbleness and fear soon replaced with a flame of rage when her own heals dug into the snow. And the rebuttal was on Leliana’s tongue faster than she could even think of trying to catch her own words: You’re saying that I made it up for... for the attention? I did not! I know what I believe! And before she could get anything else out, his eye turns away from her leaving her with nothing but unfinished apprehension on her lips.

          There is a different sort of pain in her chest now, a hurt that tasted like vile poison on her tongue. A part of grief that she hadn’t felt in such a long time - a whole age when her beloved was taken away from her for the sake saving a world that would damn her very existence. For being born with a gift given by the Maker himself, and thus a curse it was being a mere mage thrown into the Circle of Magi. Such an atrocious malevolent world it was, and now it would only seem that the Maker himself would act no better. That he would see his children suffer, would see the Divine - the best of them all, struck down in the one place that should have been the pinnacle of safety for a devout such as she. That he would allow such an atrocity to befall them and plunge their world into absolute chaos. Was that what he wanted of them? To die? Was that his ultimate wish to meet their end at his hand?

         Was Death his only true blessing? 

        And it was in such heavy silence, passing the guard after guard, that a Left Hand walked side by side by the Right Hand - a true escort to the one awaiting them. Both true to the given titles by the Divine, who acted as the head of their dynamic - she who once had struck so precisely with her left hand and shield with her right. Leliana, the dagger in the shadows, and Cassandra who would be her shield through the flame. Titles bestowed upon them by Justinia, in a service to her Divine word. Only now she was gone, decimated within the Ancient Temple of Sacred Ashes along with so many others who would have in turn, found a way for peace for the world of Mages. She should have known that something would go wrong, curse it all. She was her eyes in the shadows after all, the ear pressed to the door, blade under a cloak, Leliana should have been the first to see it coming. And yet here she was, answering the report given by Cassandra’s men when they had heard of a survivor. An elvhen man who’s guilt is immeasurable, a soul who would have information on what he’s done - or what he’s seen.

          A soul with an anchor on his arm, sparking to life like the child of both lightning and green flame in tandem with the pulse of the tear in the sky. He would answer for his crime soon, if he is as guilty as they say, but if the word of the men were folly .. There were still so many questions, where some had him damned, reports also mentioned that there was holy intervention by Andraste herself. But how could this be? They would have to deduce more in time, but first- they must get this one back to the other - Solas.

         It would be Cassandra who threw the door open first, and Leliana who would follow in after to closely observe every nuance in his face visible in the dim light. Following the clatter of sure steps with quiet strides as the guards around the Dalish elf sheathed their swords. They would not need protection here, not from him. Not from the one who might have killed their Divine Justinia. Leliana sees the confusion register in his features as the other slows her pace in favor of circling around him, making her own approach through the shadows. The seething anger stewing in her chest closing her fists tightly as she allows herself to come into the light to show the stranger that she were here too. Cassandra would not be the only one he would have to deal with should his guilt be proven here. And after a brief meeting of their eye, between the Left Hand and the Right, does Cassandra lean down to speak.

        “Tell me, why we shouldn’t kill you now.” The Seeker straightens with a step to circle around him with an arm outstretch in a gesture toward him. “The Conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead.” Her hand settles on the hilt of her sword as she settles in front of him, “Except for you.”

         It takes a moment before the almost horror flickers across his face, the very notion inspiring his brows to twitch. “You think I’m responsible?”

         “Explain this-!” She is quick to rebuttal reaching down to lift up his arm, and just in time for another surge of the bright green to flicker to lift in a violent shock that illuminated the entire room. And just as it fades away she shoves it back down and turns on her heel, and this time Leliana follows her path in circling him from the other angle. Observing still with the pinch of her own thoughtful brow.

         “I-..I can’t.” He starts.

         “What do you mean you can’t!?” Her voice booms outward just as Leliana’s own stride settles at his back. Mulling the known details over, judging him with her blade to his throat in every sense of the word save for physical. Yet there wasn’t enough yet to deduce just fully of his worth, his innocence, or guilt. Not yet anyhow.

          “I don’t know what that is or- how it got there.” The elf stammered, almost tripping over his own words. There wasn’t any hesitation in his words, or any indication that he might be lying. He was either telling the truth, or too practiced at a game that only the finest of Orlesians have mastered. And there wasn’t a soul who could best Leliana herself. There is still too much unanswered questions..

          “You’re lying!” Cassandra snaps, the roar of her voice reflected in the very advance she made with the grab of his shoulders. She is mere seconds away from lifting him up to his feet, mere seconds away from drawing her sword. And it’s now that Leliana must step in.

           And step in she does, with the quick side step to grasp into Cassandra’s shoulder. Lifting her up, forcing her to up and then backward with her own advancing step. it would do them no good to kill him, not with so much at stake and so many unknown variables. If it wasn’t for that, she might let her have him for Justinia’s honor alone. “We need him Cassandra.” She states, further walking up against her to force retreating steps out of the Seeker. And with the assuring press of her lips she turns her chin to give her a look, a gesture beckoning patience before the Spymaster turns back to the Elf. Leliana remains reserved with the settle of her step back to him.

             “I can’t believe it... " And it was there as he spoke, it was there as horror seemed to reflect in violet eyes that she wondered if he just might be telling the truth. “All those people... dead.”

            Alright. She will give him the favor of doubt, a voice to say his side of the story for her to weigh on.  “Do you remember what happened? How this began?” She asks feeling Cassandra advance behind her yet again.

           “I remember..” He answers, seeming to search his own memory. Search.. or fabricate a lie. They would have to see with his response. “..Running. Things were chasing me. And a woman.” His eyes lit up with the memory, putting words the recollection.

           “A woman?!” Leliana parrots, taken aback by the confirmation in all of the reports that were given about what was seen when he had appeared at the ruins of the Conclave. Of what was standing at his back, of who was standing behind him just as the Fade closed seconds before he collapsed. Could it really have been her? Andraste herself?

           “She- reached out to me.. but then..” His brow pinched, and she could see that he was searching his memory for an answer - and it was an answer that she is fully intending to hear. But then his shoulders only deflate with a short exasperation. And she was almost pressed to push it, pressed to find out who it was that he saw - to get a name, or confirmation? Until Cassandra was in turn stepping in between them to try and break her line of sight.

            “Go to the forward camp, Leliana.” She spoke, stepping toward her - forcing her own steps to retreat back toward the door. Yes, she was right. Someone had to be there, someone had to make sure that their forces were just as they were left them. But there was still too many questions, still too many things left unanswered - and a name left unspoken. And a reasoning as to why she would show himself to someone like him. To someone who wasn’t of the faith, to someone who likely did not even believe in the Maker. Looking to him now, she knows that this is not his way.. so why.. She felt her own brow pinch, frustration, anger, grief, what else could there be now but confusion? “I will take him to the rift.” Cassandra finishes with one last final prompt.

              And there is only a moment that passes before she gives her a nod, a silent approval of the command before she turns on her heel. This is clearly a matter for another time...

[aworldofyou]

@sicsemper , @immobiliter

What if we recruited bears?

(Thank god for Jaws of Hakkon) Adahlen Adventures #07 <<Prev      Next >>

Master post of chapters

[valorsworn]

@sicsemper sent me Pain : that’s the least of all my fears. / em & cullen !

Low the candles burned in his office, a clear sign that they had been sitting there far too long. 

Cullen couldn’t help but feel like a thief, stealing away what few precious hours Emrys had to rest before he would set out to yet another hostile territory. They had done what they could, his three advisors, to prepare him for the journey ahead. It was all they could ever do. It never felt like enough. Cullen could see the same worry reflected in Josephine’s eyes whenever their gazes met across the table, the final figurine set in place on the map before them. Leliana’s thoughts were always better veiled, as per her role, but the way she would question and poke holes in his every suggestion and proposed tactic was a confession of its own kind. 

All three would see Lavellan return victoriously, yes. Victoriously, and safely. Alive.

They were of an age, he and the Inquisitor. Cullen had learned this early on, during their seedling days at Haven. He could still recall how surprised he had felt at the discovery. Most of the time, the elf seemed the elder of the two, a sensation that went beyond race and the history attached to it. Emrys simply… held himself in a way that went beyond the counting of years. The way he brandished mercy, and patience, and understanding, was not one Cullen would prescribe to that of a person their age.

And then, sometimes, like tonight, Cullen would look up and feel his gaze catch on the way the light flickered in Emrys’ eyes, the lines of his face, the restless dance of his fingers in his lap, and find himself forcefully reminded of how young the other man truly was. How he had not asked for any of this, yet accepted it all with such endless grace. Ironically, it was in his most mortal moments that Cullen could feel his own faith renewed. She had chosen wisely, their Lady Redeemer. Perhaps a little too wisely.

It was weakness, he knew, to cling so tightly to a man destined for greatness. Something selfish in the way Cullen tried to keep Emrys bound to this plane, even as the story of their lives played out to something that had inevitability written all across it in ancient script. But to watch him sit there, Inquisitor, Herald, friend, brother, and hear him speak so arbitrarily of his own life… It was more than Cullen could bear. 

“ It may be the least of yours, but I can assure you it plays on the forefront of a few minds. ” 

Wryly spoken, but the truth seeped through even so, as it had a way of doing. Maker, he was tired, bone-deep, soul-deep, but the mere thought of Emrys perishing… Of giving up his own life so easily, gladly, so the rest of them might live… It was the sort of thing a saviour might say, was expected to say, but it only served to make Cullen’s blood run cold. And by His touch, I was made pure again. 

( But no less selfish, it seemed. )

“ There’s no need to be quite so accepting of your own inevitable demise, Inquisitor. Plenty of options remain at your disposal. We’re all here to aid you, in whatever way you see fit. You need but ask. ”

Emrys’ hands were always so cold to the touch. Cullen despised the fact tonight more than ever before, fingers lightly tangling through ones far more slender than his.

“ And if you do not, I will ask on your behalf. Fight. Live. Come back to us, ” to me, “ so we can finish this. Together. ”

[fifthbcrn]

starter for @sicsemper​ ( emrys )

“those... your... magic is...quite impressive,” james said, as though that might break the tension. he was acutely aware that emrys lavellan should hate him. in fact, he wondered why the elf even bothered to let him join the inner circle at all. he knew cassandra was...well, a necessary evil. blackwall was a warden, but james was... the epitome of someone emrys should hate. a human noble. the worst of the worst.

“when did you...know you were a mage?” he’d had a few cousins who had been sent to the circle in ostwick. he had heard it was not... fun to say the least.

[immobiliter]

         “ Inquisitor? Uh --- I mean, Emrys? ” Dagna was stood haltingly in the doorway between the throne room and the Undercroft of Skyhold, having already spent ten minutes or so debating whether to catch their leader’s attention at all. Ever since the Exalted Council, the entire Inquisition had been subject to something of an overhaul, leading to the departure of so many faces as of late that the fortress she’d made her home in was beginning to feel almost empty. It had been a disconcerting feeling for all of them left behind, she was sure, but there had always been one distraction for her and that was in her studies. In creating things. “ I was hoping I might... show you something. ”

        Carefully, she led him down the stairs and over to her workbench, where she carefully pulled a cover over her newest invention. It was, for all intents and purposes, a prosthetic arm: fashioned from iron but with lyrium tendrils snaking around and through it, giving the prosthesis a blue glow. She glanced at Emrys, still hesitant and unsure of whether to continue. “ It’s just a prototype at present. I’m still trying to figure out the best material to use to make it functional with the least amount of discomfort or effort on your part. And I was experimenting with the lyrium to see if it were possible to attune it to your own magic. ” She paused, raising a gloved hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of her eyes --- and the nervousness returned. “ But --- but, if I could get you to... try it on, then I might be able to refine it better. ”

@sicsemper​  /  emrys

[immobiliter]

@sicsemper sent a meme from somewhere: ❝ I think you’re someone who’s very good at managing how you’re perceived. ❞ / for varric from lavellan !

       Varric considered the remark thoughtfully over his drink, second only to his now-routine observation that, nice as Skyhold was as a formidable base of operations for the Inquisition ( as well as surrounded by a breathtaking landscape to behold ), its tavern did not hold a candle to the Hanged Man. No tavern this side of the Waking Sea ever would... but at least it was a damn sight better than what Haven had to offer. He missed Kirkwall slightly less for being here, at least. “ I’m not sure if it’s that, exactly. ” He trailed off, still thinking, still giving Lavellan’s assessment the weight it deserved. Perceived just felt like... too cheap of a word. As if his whole shtick was premeditated. Varric might have been prone to extravagant lies and boasts, but he prided on his ability to relate to people. High or low, big or small, templar or apostate mage, it made no difference.

        “ Overinflated ego, sure. But sometimes you have to be different things to different people. You must know a lot about that. Keeping everyone happy here at Skyhold can’t be easy. ” Now there was one job he was happy not to have, but even watching on from the sidelines at the decisions the Inquisitor had made over recent weeks was exhausting. “ To the Merchant’s Guild, I’m a businessman and overseer. To my readers, I’m an acclaimed teller of tales. To you and the Inquisition, I was just a dwarf in the wrong place at the right time who got to see a hole blown in the sky and you fall out of it. ” He chuckled ruefully to himself. Maker’s breath, and he thought the last few years in Kirkwall were crazy. “ Someone has to keep the peace, and what can I say? I like to be that someone. ”

[aworldofyou]

INQUISITOR • in·quis·i·tor  

noun: inquisitor; plural noun: inquisitors

a person making an inquiry, especially one seen to be excessively harsh or searching. HISTORICAL -  an officer of the Inquisition.

[aworldofyou]

You’re offering this to an elf. Are you quite sure you know what you’re doing? --- I would be terrified handing this power to anyone. But I believe it is the only way. They’ll follow you. To them, being an elf shows how far you’ve risen how it must have been by Andraste’s hand. What it means to you, how you lead us.                                               That is for you alone to determine.

For Inquisitor, Emrys Lavellan, Leader of the Inquisition ( @sicsemper )

[aworldofyou]

“You did your best, Cassandra. Sometimes that's all we can do. @sicsemper / sent a meme - for Cassandra Pentaghast

       The words almost hold no effect on contemplative features as she over looks the ruins set before them. They had arrived to the Hinderlands on a search for Master Dennet and had taken the opportunity to set up their camps along the outreach of the area; done to ensure that communication between parties remained true and unhindered. All had seemed well enough, and Cassandra had expected as much conflict along the way with the civil unrest between Templar and Mage, between the false ideals of order and the reach for freedom that painted every fade touched soul toward ill favored means of survival. But knowing what she knew, expecting what she had, there was still a part of her that could never be prepared to see the young mage cut down before them the way he had. There was something in the way he sat now, slouched over, wearing the bloodied robes the way he had - fighting to protect the ones at his back. Or perhaps it was the expression she saw in him moments before he fell - somewhere in it all, she had seen his face. Anthony.

        She had tried to help him, had tried to press her palms into the gash on his chest to apply the pressure. Anything to stop the gush of crimson flooding onto the surface. Had heard his pleas to take him home, had heard that his mother was in Redcliffe, and the almost gasp in one last anguished attempt to hold onto life before it slipped away.

         The only solace that can be offered is the fact that he was not alone in his final moments 

          And thus Cassandra moves to rest his hands along his chest; as if he had the honor of a tomb over an open plain. A prayer in place of a home where she hopes that he could find his way to the side of the Maker, where they all could. For he is not the first casualty of this conflict, nor will he be the last. “If this is the only fate that our best can offer, then we should have been better. I should have been better ... “ She responds with the quiet of her tone, jaw clenching with the press of her brow. This could have been avoided- this all could have been avoided - if only she had been more vigilant..

          “Let us go. The deaths on this day will not go remembered if we are to fall here.”

[copiesofme-archive]

Leliana and Cassandra are those parents who fight behind the scenes so the kids (Emrys) won’t have to see it, and thus they can present themselves as a United force... to an extent ..,

[copiesofme-archive]

Cassandra vc: ....ugh.

[copiesofme-archive]

     Before I got the world should know that Leliana can never forgive the thievery of all of her nugs.

[copiesofme-archive]

        There is much to contemplate. Much to process when the death of the Divine only felt like it had been mere hours passed. And the mere notion had brought a certain taste of bitterness to her heart that she has never known before. A frustration in the will of the Maker replaced a once devout following, she who had been unquestionable since the day that she had first heard the Chant of Light, since her mother had sprinkled the dry petals of Andraste’s Grace into little palms and had told her of the woman who had once stood next to the great Shartan all those ages ago. She had never questioned Him before, no matter the vileness that crossed her path. Not when Marjolaine had left them to the mercy of Chevalier; not when he had taken her Warden from her. But now with so much death at their doorstep, with so much tragedy at the wake of the best of them- and destruction where the most holiest of of holy once stood. What else could she feel but anger?

         Now here they were, with the claims that Andraste’s chosen had surfaced within the mere existence of Emrys Lavellan and the mark upon his arm and the sky itself torn open above them. What else, to any one of faith, could it feel but the dawn of the end? Or perhaps a rebirth. Regardless of his origin, the people still pushed, regardless of his faith, rumor still gave title. The Spymaster has done what she could to curb it, even if it was Cassandra’s intent to fan the flame. The testament of such one’s faith, was not either of theirs to command, nor was it the place of man to decide who spoke for the Maker, especially when elven or man did not follow the same path as the Chant of Light. It isn’t right.

          "A word, if you would.” She spoke simply upon his arrival. And with that she turns and steps back under the cover of the tent, arms crossing over her chest with the words that follow. “You should know, that you will never be truly expected to follow the Chant of Light now that the masses have given you such a title. Not while I am here to advise.”

        @sicsemper​ / Emrys Lavellan - from Leliana.