#solas x maelgwn

[mogwaei]

feeling sad and bad about my art lately. channeled it into a much needed hug for Solas

[mogwaei]

Garden of Fen'Harel 's regrets

[story is open to interpretation]

[mogwaei]

Liminal

[mogwaei]

[Codex: Crossroads]

Solas ⚔ Maelgwn

What part of the timeline could this be? Magic is strange in the paths between the looking glasses. Timelines blur and branch and blend. To the unwitting wanderer, this could spell their undoing and be forever lost.

But perhaps...it is not so terrible a fate to find another wayward soul to be lost with, within.

[mogwaei]

Lost [&] in love

He can't stop stealing glances

[mogwaei]

sketch & ponder

[mogwaei]

"I've got you"

[link to spicy version]

[mogwaei]

Nightmares & Monsters among the monstera

Solas 🌿 Maelgwn

(slightly spicier version for the second panel over on my twt @/spiced_eggmog)

[mogwaei]

Rose-tinted Eluvians

[mogwaei]

just wanted to post it without the silly censor because I love them

if you want to see the very spicy version, follow the [link in this post to my twitter]

[mogwaei]

[Codex: A Touch of Light]

[mogwaei]

Ouroboros, Agent of Fen’Harel. A nobody witch and failed knight. And a wee bit Void-touched. [fic]

[mogwaei]

Fragments & Echoes

[Maordrid ⚔ Solas]

(fic here - Dragon Age: Ouroboros)

[mogwaei]

sweet little sketchy somethin i did for an October prompt "Books"

Mao and Solas getting deep into their shared hobby - in this case, "spheres of reality" research (essentially, the effects of other dimensions on the material/Waking plane) but not without some antagonising...she’s probably showing him bad research just to rile him up 📚

(my fic “Ouroboros” for ur viewing pleasure)

[mogwaei]

“Your move.”

[Mao ⚔ Solas]

(fic here - Dragon Age: Ouroboros)

[mogwaei]

[Dragon Age: Ouroboros Codex - Precipice]

~

[Fen’Harel ⚔ Ouroboros]

The bad ending.

(codex text below cut)

“You are my dream. When you think yourself a nightmare, becoming or living one…remember that.”

He gripped her one hand, heart lurching, “How would you stop it? If it exists within me?”

Her mouth twitched, briefly in to something forlorn, “Let our tower protect you from it. You say I am a knight? Then you will have my sword and shield. Slip through the secret door and be free. I will follow, when I can.”

The simplicity of her answer stunned him into a silence of deep contemplation and he could only watch her walk away, returning to the camp alone. A tower to protect us from ourselves. Swords to cleave through the darkness. A secret door for the two of us.

That night when he lay alone on his bedroll, Fen’Harel dreamed of a knight in the Fade that shattered a crumbling pillar holding the sky apart from the earth. As the heavens crashed into the land, through the chaos, heedless of the danger around them, he witnessed the knight gather the pieces of the pillar, which became a lantern in their hands. Then, without looking back they secreted the lantern away to a place built in a remote reach of the world. Far though the knight ran, they were pursued, for the pieces once holding apart the domains were highly sought after. He could not discern their hunters, whether they were armies mortal or mindless darkness, he knew only that they were intent on destroying their quarry in totality and finality.

Within the walls, the Knight prepared, shutting and barring all the doors and drawing up the bridges. Ghostly sentinels patrolled the battlements and he overheard talk of setting wicked traps and calling forth vicious beasts from the Fade to guard the inside.

He felt a wrenching sorrow when at last the enemy arrived at their threshold and beat upon the walls with steel and magic. He did not know why, for any of it.

He found himself gripped by the dream as he watched the walls finally give way and the invaders flooded inside. He followed behind, through the ruined portcullis and into a wide courtyard, only to find that the shadowy invaders had come to a stop, emanating a perplexed air. He saw why.

There were no traps nor grotesque guardians. Of the sentinels there was no trace—perhaps an illusion all along.

Instead, they were greeted by frescoes adorning every surface, painted with pigments no mortal in present could possibly imagine. A thousand beautiful scenes that shifted and changed before his very eyes—mosaics made of gems and glass and stone glinting as though each piece contained its own soul. Gardens flourished all around that could only have been grown from dreams themselves.

The ache sank ever deeper, where no sword could reach as he watched the army disperse in search of the Knight and the Pillar-Made-Lantern. He seethed with anger, as they tore apart the sanctuary they had made. But he was powerless to stop them and he was filled with hate as desolation replaced beauty. Though he did not understand why they sought to capture the two, nor the enmity between the sides, he hoped the pair would not be found.

After following what appeared to be the leader of the force, it seemed his hopes weren’t for naught.

They encountered a hidden door, overgrown by syl’sils. His throat constricted as the rare and fragile blooms were crushed and torn by hacking sword and clawing gauntlet.

When the door was finally revealed, only then did the hateful trespassers cease their assault.

For the secret door was already cracked open. They had escaped after all.

He treaded forward, not quite believing what he was seeing propped up against the wall, just to the side of the portal.

But before he could get a closer look, the cobblestones dropped under his next step and the dream collapsed around him.

When he woke, his cheeks were wet and he had no explanation why.