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theluckywizard · 10 months

Note

For the DADWC: "Lyrium dust suspended in a clear fluid," perhaps for Vivienne?

Thanks Ann! I had some fun with this one. Started last Friday but fell asleep before finishing as is tradition! @dadrunkwriting

The Talk

Vivienne & Rose Trevelyan

WC: 1304

CW: discussion of sex and pregnancy and family planning

The note arrives for me via Vivienne’s personal staff, handed to me between two fingers in an elegant flourish.

Be so kind as to visit me in my personal quarters on the upper level, darling. There’s something important to discuss.

-Vivienne de Fer

This was an unusual request. Vivienne most often wished to speak in her favored space in the mezzanine over the main hall, so I immediately inferred some manner of gravity. It could be any number of things given the tumult of the last month and I’ve long suspected she might vacate the Inquisition entirely having been immensely displeased with the failure to defend Haven, describing the catastrophe as amateur.

Knocking politely on her chamber door, two over from the one I’d first stayed in upon arriving Skyhold and enter when she invites me in.

“Rose, darling. Thank you for coming,” Vivienne says, rising from what appears to be some manner of alchemist’s work bench in an elegant robe I’d never seen her in, one that is more staid than her usual fare and in a stroke of practicality covers more of her in case of accidents. I know she's a specialist in alchemy, but her demeanor always seems to suggest that work of any sort was beneath her and she and I rarely speak on matters of the arcane. I’ve overheard enough of her arguments with Dorian and Solas to know that she is a true scholar, but to see an actual laboratory of sorts in her bedroom astonishes me.

“I can’t lie. I never did expect to see the inside of your quarters, Vivienne,” I remark, taking it all in. Her alchemy workbench is impeccably tidy, tools carefully organized on velvet cloths, jars of solutes clearly labeled and alphabetized, crucibles and mortars and pestles of varying sizes lined up neatly along the wall.

“Indeed. But this conversation requires a measure of privacy few other places in Skyhold can supply.”

“Well then. Now I’m curious,” I say. Vivienne eyes me in a way that feels strangely motherly, drawing a few different items onto her workbench. A suspension of lyrium powder that shimmers in the wan light that slips in through the narrow windows, a bit of chalk, a sizable ring of some kind of polished mineral.

“Can I offer you some refreshment before we start? I know you have finer tastes than most. I doubt you’ll find better in Skyhold than what I've managed to procure.”

She pours me a delicate glass of Orlesian port which I take in equally delicate sips, still reflexively watching my manners around her for some reason. Vivienne turns to me and buffs her nails gently as she speaks into them, her eyes flicking up to mine finally.

“I’ve been observing the growing attachment between you and Commander Cullen. It’s obvious where this is headed."

“I— I don’t think—“ I fumble momentarily and then sigh. “What are you getting at?”

“Maker, dear, I wasn’t born yesterday. The pair of you can’t keep your eyes off each other. And if my projections are correct you’ll be needing the means to prevent unwanted consequences.” My mouthful of port jumps past my lips as I cough, the revelation over her intentions walloping me out of nowhere. “I— see that I’ve caught you off guard. Which I anticipated, but if you could be so kind as to swallow your port, my floor would be grateful.”

“I suppose you mean a child,” I remark, dabbing at my lips with a handkerchief while I recover myself.

“Pregnancy. Children. Women in our positions cannot afford such inconveniences.”

“In Ostwick we took potions for that sort of thing.”

“I’m relieved to hear that you’re familiar with such practices, though I would hardly rely on something so questionable. Its efficacy depends heavily upon the skill of the herbalist and the quality of the ingredients, none of which will be readily available here in the Frostbacks of all places.”

She turns, sliding cat-like along her workbench and retrieves the ring she’d pulled out earlier. The light catches within the crystalline structure revealing veins and inclusions.

“This is fade-touched Nevarrite. I acquired this for you when I felt coitus was inevitable.” I nearly eject another offering of port, but manage my shock better, clutching at my forehead as a flush sprints from my cheeks to the tips of my ears.

“Maker, Vivienne. When was that?”

“Around the same time Cullen made an impassioned plea to find a way to protect you from the spell meant to close the Breach,” she says simply.

“Ah.”

“Rest assured that not everyone is as perceptive as I am. Although Dorian seems to be aware of it. And Sister Leliana. And now Alexius.”

“For Maker’s sake,” I mutter, pressing my fingers into the heat within my cheeks.

“Properly enchanted this ring will prevent pregnancy and suspend your courses while you wear it.”

“Wait— you’re saying you can suspend my courses?”

“But of course dear. I could hardly be asked to suffer such gross inconveniences.”

“And I could have had this months ago? You’ve been holding out on me.”

“It is not easily acquired. Nor is it cheap. But I think you’ve proven your worth and the seeming imminence of your coupling lent a sort of urgency to the situation. The Herald of Andraste must remain free to close rifts. And now that you’re the Inquisitor it is doubly true,” she says.

“Is it… a bracelet?” I ask but it seems a touch small. Vivienne’s laugh rings across the chamber, delighted.

“No, darling. It is worn inside.” I stare a it skeptically wondering how exactly it would fit. “If you need a lesson I am certain there’s an illustrated encyclopedia of human anatomy available in the library.”

“No, no. I— gather where it’s meant to sit,” I mutter. I take another tentative sip of port like she could induce another explosive reaction, but she doesn’t, leaning gently on the edge of her table.

“It’s a gift, Rose. It will make your time together less worrisome and secure your position as Inquisitor. We cannot leave such things to chance as women of consequence.”

Her words send me reeling back to conversations with my mother. Her obsession with establishing me in a role of influence, narrow as her imagination was— power within the chaste confines of the Chantry or power producing heirs for someone with greater standing. I snort softly to myself thinking of it. And here I am at the head of an entire Inquisition, free to be whatever destiny calls me to be.

“Thank you, Vivienne. I gratefully accept,” I say, my cheeks still burning bright.

“Marvelous. No need for blushes my dear. I understand all too well the overpowering draw of love. But we can’t let it hobble our aspirations. I will enchant it presently and send it to your quarters when it is ready. But I’ll need a lock of your hair and a swab from your mouth.”

“By all means. Take whatever you need,” I answer, perhaps a little too eagerly, and she wastes no time, my submissions organized onto clean white linen for alchemical use.

I leave her still unreasonably flushed, laughing to myself that she believes such activities are imminent. But I allow the thought of it to send a wave of faintness through me, the kind I’ve felt when I’m near him, the kind that Lieven once provoked with his too-bold looks and too-bold hands while we hunt. Maker, I need a good roll.

And though I also feel that it’s imminent on some level, it still feels just out of reach, like the Inquisition's mountain of tasks and the appropriateness of it lies like a wall between us.

But perhaps that’s just my lack of courage masquerading as an excuse.

#cullen x trevelyan #vivienne & trevelyan #vivienne & inquisitor #not going to hand wave it #vivienne is a contraception guru #because of course she is #portal those eggs to the fade #cullen x inquisitor #cullenmance #in the shattering of things #rose trevelyan #vivienne de fer #madame de fer #dragon age inquisition

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lairofdragonagelore · 1 year

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Western Approach: Adamant Fortress

Main Quest: Here Lies the Abyss

The building appears to be not very large but quite sturdy, with tall walls made of dark jetstone, massive gate with archer towers on both sides, and metal ramparts. It stands on the very edge of the Abyssal Rift—a deep chasm that is believed to run as far down as the Deep Roads. Once, it belonged to the Grey Wardens who beat back the darkspawn that rose from the chasm during the Second Blight, becoming a symbol of their impossible achievement. Then, it housed more than a thousand men and griffons—with weyrs opened onto the chasm. With passing years, the Western Approach became a wasteland and maintaining the keep became more and more expensive in the eyes of the visiting Warden-Commanders, being abandoned ages later, as a symbol of the Wardens' decline in the region.

This post has compiled the most relevant information during the main quest for completion’s sake. These quests have little “archaeological” value, but since I’m visually covering the majority of the game, I can’t put them aside since there are some exceptions, such as the Temple of Mythal.

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

The Ritual Tower

The introduction to this quest is done by heading to the ritual tower, a small construction decorated with Tevinter claws and Tevinter golems.

We find that mage Grey Wardens are sacrificing non-magical Grey Wardens [warriors and rogues] to bind demons to their own soul. The process is noted visually with a red glow in their eyes or a soft crackling mist of red colour.

Discussing with the Magister Venatori we are informed of several things:

The “false” Calling that the Warden are hearing is Corypehus’s doing and the Venatori were instructed to use it in their benefit.

The process of binding demons to the Grey Warden mages binds the mages’ will to Corypheus, making them his slaves.

They are rising an army of demons with the intention or the excuse to kill all the remaining Archdemons. This desperate measure has been taken due to the false calling, since they feel it’s the end of the Order.

Here is where we see Solas claim that killing all the remaining Old Gods will make things worse.

An interesting piece of information that we are not sure how accurate it is, since this minion Magister may understand the world wrongly: but apparently, Corypheus controls the Blight, it’s part of his tools. But this can be merely the magister misunderstanding Corypheus’ powers.

Reinforcement of the idea that the mark allows you to walk into the Fade. For a strange reason, Corypheus needs to access to the Fade directly in order to claim divinity. It’s not clear what is the element that he is missing for being a true god.

Then, we proceed to reach the famous Adamant Fortress, that we read in Asunder, and that Cole explored in that book as well.

Adamant Fortress

As we face battle in Adamant Fortress, we see these stones with the mark of the Inquisition? [a mere eye] as objects used against the fortification. This is a mere asset since we can see exact objects in the elven ruins of the Emerald Graves: Din'an Hanin. I’m not going to waste more time on this object.

The interior of the fortress presents typical Tevinter doors and Tevinter patterns.

As we walk across the fortification to reach the battlements, we find a section with two Andrastian statues: Maferath’s and The Maker’s [which I used to tag as Faceless figure holding a crown until I realised what it represented]. At the bottom of these statues, there is a plaque with the insignia of the Grey Warden.

The fortress has typical Tevinter design: its bridges are decorated with pointy pyramidal structures, octagonal structures with Tevinter patterns, and even griffons, that because The Still Ruins, Main Chamber and Hall of Silence, I was at first in doubt to consider these griffons as additions of the Grey Warden, but it was a bit confirmed in the codex Adamant Fortress that they were indeed Grey Warden decoration [“..we sealed the fortress's mighty gates. We left the great griffon statues to tarnish in the blowing sand”].

When we reach the centre of the fortress, we see Clarel and part of the procedure they are performing to create this demon army.

There is another direct encounter with Corypheus’ dragon again. Same as Corypheuys, the dragon's texture seems to have piece of metal encrusted in its flesh, and it’s described as Blighted.

His attacks are like balls of the same kind of magic that Corypheus uses or the one that controls the Grey Wardens. This could represent red lyrium or Blight magic for all what we know about Corypheuys and this retconned blighted dragon.

We reach the bridge where we can see these pointy pyramid designs. I tend to associate these structures, for the lack of a better object to compare, with the engraving of the curious metal desk or object we see in rare occasions that depicts a tower I tagged as “pointy tower”. Due to its pointy design, I usually relate it to Tevinter, although, if we remove the pointy ends, it would look more like an elvhen tower. This drawing is still a mystery to me.

We see a short cinematic about Clarel regretting her decision after discovering the truth about Corypheus. There is a short fight that ends with her being killed by the Dragon. By the end of the scene, the Fade opens up and the party falls into the Raw Fade.

#playing DA like an archaeologist #adamant fortress #tevitner design #andrastian design #main quest #Faceless figure holding a crown #Grey Warden #pointy tower #corypheus #tevinter design #Tevinter golems #Old Gods

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sirenthegalaxycollector · 1 year

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An essay about my feelings on this scene under the cut for those who are interested.

This game is one of my favorite moments in DA:I for a few reasons.

First it’s one of the rare cutscenes where we are given a glimpse of the PC as themselves, she’s not the Inquisitor in these scenes, she’s just Aja.

Second we get a chance to get a little glimpse of the PC’s lives before the Conclave, if they choose to share a story.

Bonus, it’s a story that you would totally just tell your friends, but because Aja is the Inquisitor, its a secret story that only these few got to hear, and they have to keep it a secret because, as Josie puts it is “scandalous”.

Third, this is a meta point but notice the people who aren’t there and the people who are. There are twelve people who an Inky can end up considering close friends throughout the game (thirteen if you count Morrigan), but only these eight are part of the (potentially, based on Inky’s dialogue choices) recurring Wicked Grace nights.

So considering what we know about Dreadwolf, I think it’s safe to say these eight characters are going to make appearances as personal friends and allies of the Inquisitor, despite organizational ties.

Seven will be “above board” so to speak, official and outspoken advocates of the Inquisitor’s interests, while Sera, and the Red Jennies, are going to be “under the table”, working in the shadows to further their aims.

As for the rest, starting with our Divine candidates.

They are ambiguous. It may be based on choices made between the two games but maybe it means that the Chantry is going to take measures to distance themselves, publicly and personally, from the Inquisitor and associates. Depending on who is Divine in your play state this could happen for any number of reasons.

Solas, of course we know why he’s not here, he’s constantly making choices to distance himself from the Inquisitor, personally and emotionally, despite the relationship they may have with him (Ex. Aja has full approval and his romance locked when this cutscene occurred). Wicked Grace may just seem like frivolous play to those who are unfamiliar. However, contemporary characters and we, the player, are familiar with the culture of this world and we know a few more things about Wicked Grace.

We know that for the Kirkwall crew, Wicked Grace was an integral part of their friendship activities.

We also know how much information can be gained (or lost) in a game of Wicked Grace.

That’s why Varric, Isabel, Josie, even Zevran are all such accomplished players. It’s a tool for them to gain information and rumors they need.

Which means that there is no way Leiliana and Vivienne don’t know how to play, they choose not to be here tonight.

I think this is a miscalculation on his part. Either consciously or subconsciously he is turning down a golden platter full of exploitable information on the Inquisitor and their allies by not engaging with them in their hobbies.

After all, the gambling is just for keeping score.

#dragon age #da:i #dragon age meta #meta

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earlyjust · 2 years

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theharellan · 3 years

Text

Who Am I in Your Arms?

Written for Stories of Thedas Volume II Pairing: NB!Lavellan x Solas Prompt: Hair

In the aftermath of Wisdom's passing Solas takes the first steps towards moving on from its death, though this time he need not do it alone.

Trigger warning for suicidal ideation and depression / derealisation.

Read on AO3.

Light strains through the open window, highlighting the dust suspended in the air by the morning breeze. With each sigh of wind from the mountains’ peaks it rises anew, kept aloft in perpetuity each time it begins to sink to the bedroom floor. Solas watches from his back as the light that flows through open windows grows longer, reluctant to acknowledge the fast-approaching noon and all the duty that comes with it.

He does not truly know how long he lies there, looking idly up at the ceiling, neither dreaming nor truly awake. From a distance he recognises the sound of Mother Giselle calling to a Chantry Sister and sees the shadow of a passer-by darken the window momentarily, but these notes are brief and fleeting, skirting over his consciousness without room to take root. The doorknob turns, latch unhooking with a click, force of habit compelling him to look. His eyes meet Ian’s as the door swings ajar, and he suddenly wishes he had at least sat up before he’d entered. “You’re awake,” Ian says. Relief quiets the tension he held between his brow, a look too soft to be meant for him steals across his face as he settles beside him, the mattress sinking with a sigh beneath his weight. “I was afraid- I- I was—” As he fumbles with his words he struggles with removing a leather glove from his left hand, finding the thought only when the last finger was wrested from him. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Good.” His bare hand leans upon Solas’ cheek, touch cool and calming against his face.

“What time is it?”

“You’re needed nowhere for the moment,” Ian answers the more honest question on his behalf. “I just needed— I wanted to see if you were alright.”

It is an answer Solas isn’t certain he can give neither one way nor the other. He is of sound body and sound mind, and for many those two alone would be enough to suffice. “Thank you,” Solas mutters, having little to offer but his gratitude and an affectionate peck to his palm. Perhaps sensing the answer Solas is reluctant to give, Ian’s smile pinches, straining with concern. Guilt twinges in his gut, and he averts his eyes, penitent. “Ir abelas, Vhenan. I did not mean to worry you again.”

A soft laugh sighs through Ian’s lips, though it sounds sad to his ears. “You don’t need to be sorry, Solas. Not unless it helps.” He recognises the refrain as one oft-repeated to Ian, spoken in his own voice when Ian’s troubles wind too tightly around his heart. To hear it said to assuage his sorrows stings, no matter how much he may need to hear it. The hand at his cheek guides his gaze up, his hollow stare feeling all the more empty when beheld in Ian’s kind eyes. They scan from left to right, reading the expression on his face as though he’d opened up a well-loved book. A thumb scarred by gardener’s shears draws a smooth line across his cheekbone.

Ian’s hand glides around the side of his head, meeting resistance as his fingers cup the back delicately. “Your hair…” he says with a laugh in his breath, a hint of wonder colours his tone leaves Solas humbled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much of it before.” Fingertips idle along the nape of his neck, moving across the rough beginnings of an auburn hairline, but for Solas’ part his eyes remain transfixed upon Ian’s face. He memorises the way amusement works its way across his lips, until his teeth press down upon them, trying and failing to tamp down his growing grin. Hazel eyes fall suddenly to his and then away, pink shame heating his cheeks. “Sorry.”

Solas rises, detouring to brush his lips against Ian’s, which still bear the impression of his teeth. “You’ve no more to be sorry for than I,” he says, then as an afterthought grazes his hand over his head. A fine layer of hair has sprouted, coarse, like sharkskin against his palm. “And you are correct, it is long past time I shaved.”

“Oh, you— you’re… I thought-”

“That I intended to grow it out?” he finishes Ian’s thought, picking it up where he had dropped it. “No, and I suspect I won’t for some time.” He slides open the top drawer of his dresser and rifles through, not looking but feeling for his razor. Fingers brush against brittle dried herbs and crumpled notes too important to throw away yet irrelevant enough that he does not remember why they are here, rooting through the ephemera of his everyday life before they find what they seek.

“Typically my magic minimises the upkeep, but then…” He thinks back upon the last few weeks, how time bled together and one moment tripped into the next. Hardly a thimbleful of effort had been expended upon the simple day-to-days. “I suppose I have had other matters on my mind.”

Wisdom’s death still weighs heavily upon him. Though he had told the Inquisitor the powers which willed it into being still exist and there may again be a being who called itself Wisdom, it is a cold comfort. The moments they shared are now his alone to remember. In his grief he strains to recall every memory, summoning details of bygone ages, despair curling one cold finger around his heart as their edges begin to blur. Guilt bores into him as he tries to remember what face Wisdom wore the first time they met.

“Solas?” His hand must have lingered too long, his stillness speaking to a persistent pain he struggles to give voice, yet Ian hears it regardless. He releases the breath held captive in his lungs as Ian’s hand folds over his. Their scars align, matching together as alike rhymes in a poem might. “Would you like me to do it for you?” Solas doesn’t answer right away, mind too full of memories to fully feel the present, and in that silence Ian finds the time to doubt. “If you’d rather do it yourself…” he ventures. The hand over his squeezes affectionately, comfortingly.

“No,” he finds his voice. When he tears his sights away from their intertwined fingers, he discovers Ian’s gaze leveled with his own and offers him a thin smile. “No. I’d welcome the offer.”

Before he releases his grip on Solas, he pulls his knuckles to his lips, pressing them against the places where errant magic had marked him centuries ago. He feels the ghost of his affection as he pulls his hand back, thumb stroking the place where Ian kissed him to keep the memory alive upon his skin. “You should sit,” Ian says, motioning with his head towards the empty seat shoved in the corner of the room. It’s as near a command as Ian will ever give outside the Inquisition’s healing tents. “I can take care of everything.”

A simple sentiment, yet ambitious. His first instinct is to doubt, but not all the lessons from the past few weeks left bruises. Trust is a muscle that atrophies through disuse, stretching it again strains even on fairweather days, but he accommodates Ian’s command, sinking into the cushioned stool he works from on quiet evenings.

He watches in silence as Ian takes stock of his tools, hands touching each in succession until they are accounted for. As he pours water into a shallow dish Solas’ throat scratches, realising he had not had so much as a gulp of water since the night before. It is as refreshing on his head as it would be on his lips, however, spread by a wrung out towel across his scalp. Thin streams trickle down his neck and beneath his nightshirt, provoking shivers as they slide along the crevice of his spine.

“You’ve— there’s more here than I’m used to working with,” Ian says, hovering over the instruments at his disposal. “Do I use the oil before or after?”

“Before,” he answers, “I use the cream after.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ian nod then reach for a small vial with a glass stopper. He pours a pool no wider than the average silver crown into a cupped hand and spreads it carefully over the top of his head, working the oil into the skin of his scalp. A few deliberate strokes and his eyelids grow heavy, head tilting into the sensation. A small snort of amusement issues from Ian’s nose, but he says nothing. With fingers still slick with a thin coat of oil he rubs along his hairline, feathering coarse hair with his thumbs. It scratches pleasantly in his ears, and he muses to himself if he may be persuaded to keep it at this length, on the condition that it were afforded this attention every day.

It’s a disappointment, then, when his hands at last fall away, busying themselves with the soap. He scrapes a few shavings into a shallow bowl and tops it with water measured with his eyeballs, working with the confidence of someone who has done this before. “These steps are familiar to you,” he notes.

“The last thing any surgeon needs is to close a stray hair in an open wound,” he says, “or to let it cloud your view.”

“I suspected as much.” What faith Ian has in himself lies mostly in his duty, beyond the walls of the infirmary it is as unreliable as the wind, and about as difficult to catch.

“I haven’t… this is the first time I’ve shaved anyone’s head, though. It’s mostly legs, or arms, or beards— sometimes backs.” The thin layer of bubbles quickly stirs to a thick, soapy pillow which rises higher than the bowl it was concocted in. “I never knew how much hair humans had until the Blight.”

The conjured image of Blackwall’s scurrying naked through Skyhold comes to mind, the hair on his back as black as his beard, and he spares a small smile at the Warden’s expense.

He strokes the brush over his head, drawing small overlapping circles across the top of his skull. Foam snaps behind his ears, bubbles burst by the bristles as Ian passes over a second time, leaving no inch of stubble uncoated.

“I don’t… I- tell me if it hurts,” he says. Setting the brush aside, he reaches for the razor, examining the blade against the light for flaws before he’s satisfied, although he waits for an affirmative nod before he dares hold it against his scalp.

It glides smoothly beside his skin, flowing with the grain of his hair. The scraping sound is no less unpleasant as he recalls, but painless. Ian handles the blade with a surgeon’s precision. He watches him from the corner of a hand mirror laid on the desk, every so often his reflection vanishing to wash off the soap and hair built upon the razor’s edge. A look of concentration screws his expression, the boughs of Mythal’s blood bending across his brow. Not so serious as when he works, the faint impression of a smile turns the corners of his mouth. The same lips he ruminates upon the shape of in the pages of his journal, the same smile whose corners he dreamt of kissing. They click apart, and, recognising the beginning of a question upon them, something within Solas sits up straighter.

“How long have you kept it this way?”

Their eyes meet through their reflections. Ian pauses to allow Solas his answer, wiping away the excess of hair dirtying the blade in a discarded cloth. As a question it’s innocent enough, but pries at memories he’d sooner bury. Like too many answers, he’s forced to weigh his head against his heart before he speaks.

“Not as long as you might suspect.” Once it was as long as his memory, and in each thread laid a name, a lesson, a thought. With each tragedy he sheared it shorter, until at last he could bear it no more. “What time I spent on my hair I realised I’d prefer to spend elsewhere.” The lie does not come as easily as he would like, even if— as had all the ones which came before it— it lies rooted in truth. He feels it strain against the knife when he speaks, pressure mounting in his temple, as though daring him to continue with his deception. Ian is quick to retreat, murmuring a soft reminder not to speak when he’s cutting, though he can hardly hear it through the fog in his head.

His first waking breath in this world felt like a dagger between his ribs. He choked on reality itself as he stumbled from his dreams, hair dragging past his ankles, tangled with generations of birds’ nests and hollow around his ears. It should have echoed with the dirge of an empire, but instead there was nothing, and somehow that was worse. His first cut was clumsy, blood dripped down his temple and sank into the creases of his hands, but he persisted. Each time he cut himself upon the sharp edges of the world it felt like justice, even if in his heart he knew it could never be enough.

Ian wields it without malice. The same blade which a week ago might have carved a red necklace across his throat now glides harmlessly over his skin, guided by tender hands that could name all the world’s cruelty but acts with none.

He swallows, throat thick with sentiment he’d believed too numb to harm him. Every day affection like he has never known rises in him like a force of nature, blooming with all the strength of springtime. If some small part of him had ever laboured under the belief that indulging those feelings would abate them, it’s been proven the fool. He loves Ian more now than the day he felt love’s first stirrings behind his ribs, but it does not come by him gracefully.

Love sticks in his throat like his grief. Tears spring into his eyes, the image of Ian’s reflection in the mirror clouded by droplets suspended between his lashes. He holds his breath behind his teeth to keep himself steady, pressure building beneath his chest ‘til he has no choice but to release. The sour, sterile scent of soap coats his nostrils as he measures his breath, careful not to let it hitch. As he hears Ian pause to clean the blade, he turns his face to the corner of the room to disguise his expression in the moments their eyes might meet through the mirror.

Love spills onto his cheeks, hands balling the fabric of his trousers as the first drop splashes his knuckles. The blade’s touch is as soft as a kiss upon his skin, scraping off the shadows missed during their first pass over his skull, and then set aside.

Love sees his sorrow and pulls him back against his chest, narrow arms enveloping him in their embrace.

A high, shuddering inhale whistles through Solas’ nose and though he reaches for stillness, today he finds himself wanting. The world surges forth like the first snowmelt of spring in the wake of an overlong winter, and he can do nothing to curb its strength. He claps his hand against his mouth, too late to suffocate the sob that wracks his shoulders, too weak to stifle the guilt-ridden cry that chases it. Ugly tears stain his cheeks, wielded like weapons to pry undeserved sympathy from the hands of his beloved, despite the effort he’d put forth to quell them.

A kiss crowns his forehead, ignorant of the guilt his grief springs from. An apology hangs upon the tip of his tongue, begging to be voiced and denied its release, knowing in his heart any forgiveness granted will be unearned.

Perhaps Ian hears the intent in the strangled sound he makes, for he moves to assuage his worries. Another kiss adorns his brow as he kneels before him, occupying the space between his knees. With both hands he reaches up and cradles his face between his palms, tenderly swiping away the sorrow from his cheeks. Their eyes meet through the veil of his tears, Ian’s shining with their own sadness as they hold his gaze. When Wisdom was taken, he’d held him just as he does now, until Solas remembered how to coax the air back into his lungs. So much had changed since that morning, and yet so little. Ian looks at him with the same eyes and holds him with the same hands. It is a disquieting revelation, knowing his worth does not lessen the more he is known; all the rage and misery Ian witnessed in him these past few weeks hasn’t lessened the love in his eyes.

From that love a cruel hope springs, born in the part of him which dares entertain the truth. Dares to ask if Ian would show the same compassion to the elf who had woken a year and change ago and mistook the world for empty.

The thought twists in him like a knife, and his expression contorts. Whatever peace he’d found comes apart at the seams, eyes screwing shut as tears spring anew from their corners. He turns his cheek into Ian’s palm, shoulders shaking with the force of the sobs he denies himself. Fingertips bend, coaxing him closer, and he obliges, nesting himself in the crook of Ian’s neck. The scarf he buries his nose in smells like his pipe and he can still bask in the warmth of the sun upon the copper curls that whisper in his ear. The hands that cut the bitter memories from his skin hold him without abandon, squeezing as he begins to weep anew. Protracted sobs wrack his body until his lungs ache in his chest, but Ian’s grip never falters, never fails. In his arms he knows himself as never before.

The shadows in their room narrow as the midday sun passes over Skyhold and the dust in the air mingles with what little hair he’d had to his name, carried upwards by the slightest breeze beneath the doorframe. In the sweepings he sheds his grief and carries forward what remains: his duty, his regret, and his love.

#solas #bi solas #solavellan #dragon age #nb!solavellan #( my writing )#i have found a home in him ( ian x solas )#suicidal thoughts cw #mental health cw #knowledge speaks‚ wisdom listens ( wisdom )#all new‚ faded for her ( quests )#( long post )

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psychojumper · 3 years

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Tool Review: Produktneuheiten von SOLA Messwerkzeuge

— Anzeige — In diesem Beitrag geht es um Neuheiten und nützliche Messinstrumente von SOLA Messwerkzeugen. Dabei möchte ich ein paar Besonderheiten der verschiedenen Tools aufzeigen und diese etwas genauer vorstellen. Ich denke ein paar davon sollten einfach in keiner Werkstatt fehlen. Tiefenlochmarker TLM2 Als erstes möchte ich diesen innovativen Tiefenlochmarker vorstellen. Es gibt ihn…

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thevikingwoman · 3 years

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Shame

Solas smut Sunday? Sinful Sunday?

Fandom: Dragon Age. Words: 1248

Iwyn Lavellan x Solas | Post-Trespasser | angst, smut Rating: Explicit. Dom/sub, spanking, humiliation (light), public sex (kind of), after-care, Sub!Solas, solo-Solas, Solas is mess, angst.

Shame

In his loneliness, he imagines it. His fight over, the battle lost.

A surrender.

Solas closes his eyes, and breathes deeply. Just a moment of respite. He lets his imagination fill his mind.

A hall, filled with people, her allies. She’s at the throne at the far end and he walks there alone, his armor worn and tattered. Silence falls, his foot falls echoing in the room.

Iwyn Lavellan’s face is unreadable, unmoving, as he walks closer. This is her dominion, her power obvious.

“Fen’Harel,” she calls, finally. “Do you surrender?”

“Yes. I surrender.”

“Good.”

It sounds hard, nothing like the good he wants to hear, but he is still hearing the word cross her lips, and it’s enough, enough for him to run his hand over his stomach beneath his shirt.

“Remove your armor,” she says, in his mind, and he does. He places it in a heap in front of her dais, gold and fur and scale. He stands before her in simple undergarments, vulnerable and alone in the sea of people.

Her eyes rest on him for a long time. She crosses her legs.

“Undress.”

She means to humble him, and his gut churn; anticipation and reluctance and excitement in equal measure.

He removes his clothes slowly, and he imagines everyone’s eyes him, curious but respectful of her, holding themselves back from any comment, be it an objection or encouragement.

He stands naked before her, half-hard and awaiting her next command.

“Did you come here to atone?”

“Yes.” His lips are dry and his voice hoarse.

“Good,” she says again, and her lips lift in a half smile, a spark of amusement in her eyes. It’s not the hardness he imagined she’d have, or the love he’d wished for – so unmistakably her that he almost thinks she is here, part of his mind’s scene. It is just his imagination though, he isn’t dreaming – and when he is, his dreams are fully in his control.

“Come then,” she continues, and beckons him closer with a wave of her hand, “and accept your punishment.”

He steps closer, one foot up the steps leading to her, then another. His head will be above hers soon, and he wonders if he should crawl. She has not asked him to, so he walks tall. She wants submission from a pride to match her own, not a cowering enemy. He reaches the top, his gaze holding hers. Her eyes are unreadable now, and he suddenly desperately wants to beg, wants to call her vhenan, wants her name to cross his lips in intimacy.

“Inquisitor,” he says.

She uncrosses her legs.

“Across my lap. Fen’Harel.”

He lowers himself, bending across her, his feet on one side of her and his hands resting on the stone on the other side of her. Iwyn’s hand strokes his back, down his spine and caresses his buttocks. He shudders, and in the world outside his mind he lazily pumps his cock. He imagines the hardness of it trapped against her legs and how the ornate tooling on her leather leggings would dig into it, all friction and frustration.

Iwyn lifts her hand and brings it down, hard, across his ass. It’s loud and stinging, and the random chatter in the room changes, becoming an appreciative murmur as she spanks him again, and again.

She keeps on, hit after hit, her small hand carrying all the strength he knows she has. She hits everywhere, from the top of his ass to his thighs, often the same place twice. He knows his skin is reddened by now, and it stings, drowning out everything else. All he can feel is her, and the pain. His whole world has become her hand and every hit moves his hips, rubbing his cock against her thigh, enough to make him want more and more and more.

She stops.

“Spread your legs, Solas.”

He does, and the churning feeling in his belly is back. Is the punishment not enough? Will she deliver blows there, to make sure the pain overtakes his pleasure? He braces himself, anticipation and dread and want. Her hand is gentle, caressing his balls, brushing her fingertips against the base of his cock.

“So needy,” she says, lowly. “Let them see.”

Embarrassment heats his cheeks, but he can’t stop the whimper that escapes his throat. She rubs his cock firmly, just where she can reach, the pressure not enough to provide any real relief. He wants to lift his hips, have her grab the whole length of him, but her hand moves away, caressing his balls again. He tries to keep himself still, but he wants, he needs, he can’t help it. He thrusts against her thigh, not enough.

Her hand rubs his ass, and then it’s gone, and she smacks him again. It only makes him harder and needier. He wants to beg, for more, for release, for less, for something, but he has not been granted that privilege, he cannot ask her for any more mercies than he already has. She strikes him again and he trembles.

“Don’t hold back, Solas. Don’t hold back.”

His hips jerk forward, seeking pressure, release. She keeps working her hand over his ass, stinging relentless pleasure. It’s the only thing he knows, her hand, the pain, the pleasure. It overwhelms him, and in his real body, outside his mind, he grips the base of his cock hard to prevent himself from coming. He doesn’t want to, not yet, not until he has chased this fantasy to its end.

In his mind, though, in his mind the pleasure spirals, his hips jerk and he comes, sticky wetness where his cock is trapped against her. She doesn’t stop her spanking immediately, but it’s lighter, almost gentle, heightening his pleasure. Grounding him against her. Slowly the strikes turn to a caress, a soothing rub up his thighs and over his ass, up his spine.

Iwyn moves above him, and she kisses his neck, his ear.

“You did well, Solas. Very well.” She tugs gently on his shoulder. “Come here.”

He moves slowly, his limbs warm and languid, but he manages and cuddle up next to her. She gets a blanket from somewhere, or someone, and drapes it over him. He rests his head on her shoulder.

“Iwyn,” he mumbles, “Ir –“

“Shhh, ma lath. It’s alright.” She turns her head and kisses him on his temple, his cheek. “I forgive you. Ar lath ma, Solas. Ar lath ma.”

“Vhenan, Iwyn,” he gets out, and now he can’t hold back anymore, his hand frantic on his cock, he’s coming and coming, his orgasm wrecking his body.

He comes back to himself, his eyes blinking against the light in his chamber. The place in his mind crumbles, it is not real. He sighs, and vanishes the mess on his belly with a thought.

He is ashamed.

Not of the depravity of his fantasy; he is far too old for that. Not for thinking of her like this, using her image in his fantasy. He thinks she’d find it amusing; or perhaps enticing. No, his shame is in how much he wants this. How he wants to lay down his arms, to stop, to give up. He craves forgiveness and peace, and though he does not deserve either, her kindness knows no limits, and he could still have those.

He wants to surrender, and he cannot.

He cannot.

His path is laid out, and he must follow it.

#dragon age fanfic #solavellan #solavellan fanfic #solas x iwyn #solo solas #solas and his own hand #solas is a mess alright #solas #I have no excuses for myself #viking writes #published 1/10/2021

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noire-pandora · 3 years

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“Midnight Rendezvous” (and “Take my hand”) for @14daysdalovers. Also on A03

Words: 3162

Pairing: Solavellan

Warnings: it gets a tiny bit steamy towards the end. Nothing too intense but just to be sure. (still not confident enough to write smut. One day!)

Before joining the Inquisition, midnight rarely found Solas wide awake, staring at the ceiling of his room, thoughts racing through his mind and refusing to bend down to his will. In his long life, he succeeded in becoming the master of his thoughts and feelings, able to switch and navigate through them as effortlessly as a seamstress spun her threads. He walked through life, taking pride in his concentration techniques, his indomitable focus not once defeated. Until he met the Inquisitor.

Her mind numbing smirk and cheerful laughter silently found their way into his mind, nestling there and slowly eroding through the barriers set to keep any distraction at bay. Her curiosity and kind nature planted the seed of acceptance in his heart, acceptance that maybe, maybe this Tranquil like world wasn't a world out of his nightmares.

Slowly, she pushed him to become curious about her life, her thoughts and her mind. There, he found a feeling he had never hoped of meeting again since Mythal's death: love. A gentle, patient love. One that accepted him as he was, without questioning and without prodding his mind to reach his deepest secrets.

And now, midnight found him contemplating those facts, turning and tossing in his humble bed, the sheets wrapping around his ankles. He could not comprehend why she willingly offered her heart to him. Her behaviour forced him to lay awake at night, rummaging on his thoughts, every calming technique he knew unable to stop his mind from thinking about her. For the first time in hundreds of years, someone succeeded in distracting him from walking the ever-changing paths of the Fade.

He turned on his side to stare at the door, punching his pillow to fluff it, as if that was the reason for his wandering mind. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose, in an attempt to focus. Instantly the memory of their last heated kiss came to his mind, and he groaned as heat travelled down towards his pelvis. He didn't deserve her, he didn't deserve her love or her acceptance. He should turned his back on her, but the thought of losing her, the idea of another one tasting her lips and curling their fingers into her fire like locks brought a heaviness in his stomach.

A faint knock on the door brought him back to the present, and he opened his eyes, unsure if he indeed heard it. He waited for a voice to follow it and call for him, but no sounds reached his ears after almost a minute. He closed his eyes again, ready to accept the Fade's embrace, when another knock, followed by the sound of shuffling feet interrupted him again.

This time, confident he heard someone knocking at his door, he rose from the bed, grabbing the robe resting on the back of the chair, to cover his bare torso, wrapping the sash around his abdomen.

When he opened the door, no one stood in front of it, but he spotted a petite silhouette turning around the corner. He followed it, his footsteps quiet. Soon, the red locks bouncing on the woman's shoulders gave away the silhouette's identity.

"Vhenan?"

"Solas!" she gasped, spinning on her heels to face him. "You're up!"

He hurried his pace to erase the distance between them, the smile on his face creating little wrinkles around his eyes and grooves in his cheeks. "Yes, I am. But why are you awake at this hour? Nightmares?" he slipped a hand around her waist to pull her close and kissed her head. Heat radiated through his chest as she softly giggled at his touch.

"No, couldn't sleep, so I decided to walk around for a while."

He hummed, cocking an eyebrow at her. He knew his love roamed the halls of the castle at night, but something in her cheeky smile made him suspicious of that answer "Is that so? And where are you heading?"

"Well," she started, placing one hand on his chest, raising her chin to look at his face. "Do you know Josephine will meet with a few Orlesian nobles in the morning? The type of people who keep their noses crinkled like they smell shit everywhere?"

"Yes," he patiently answered, tilting his head to the side. He took a step back, his hands living her body.

"And she asked Marin to bake sweets for them. But, the last time he did that, the Orlesians refused to eat it."

"Oh, is that so?"

She nodded. "Yeah, he told me the next day, when I went to grab some food from the kitchen. He ranted about how the Orlesians can't appreciate the skills of a Ferelden baker. After that, he mopped around for days, doubting his skills."

"Too bad. His sweets are delicious."

"Exactly. And I'm sure tomorrow they will refuse to eat Marin's sweets again, and he'll end up upset for another week. I have a plan to stop that."

"A plan?" he repeated, leaning forward to examine her face. She had excellent plans at day, but at night, her ideas transformed into various shenanigans, like stealing food from the kitchen and having a late dinner in the courtyard, under the ancient oak tree. The cooks of Skyhold learned how to hide the food they cooked for the next day before the Inquisitor's nose caught a whiff of it and devoured it at night.

"Yes. I'm going to eat everything he baked for them."

Solas caught a glimpse of pride shining in her eyes as she announced her plan. He bit down on his lip to contain a laugh. "What? Why? How would that help the poor man?"

"When he finds out that the Inquisitor snuck out at night to eat his sweets, he will be annoyed but also happy because the word will spread. And everyone will know how I, the most important person in this hold, ate his food like a glutton," a knowing grin grew on her face, a grin that was too infectious to fight.

In moments like this, when she uttered her plans with unshakable confidence, her shoulders back and chin raised high, he realised why every single soul in the Inquisition followed her without doubting her. Right now, if she decreed she planned to move the mountains, he would believe her instantly. But the idea of making a man feel better by devouring his food brought a smile on his face and reminded him how strange she could sometimes be.

"Oh, the brave Inquisitor, always sacrificing herself for the wellbeing of her subjects." he jested, offering her a bemused smile.

"But of course! C'mon, let's go, we still have a few hours until the cook's apprentice will wake up to heat the ovens."

She walked away from him a few meters, but she stopped as Solas didn't follow her.

"Are you coming?" she asked, holding out her hand for him to take it.

"Is that the reason why you knocked at my door?"

"Yes, I want to share them with you. I like to eat, but I doubt I'll be able to eat the sweets made for four people."

"Vhenan, you know I prefer not to eat at night."

She huffed, rolling her eyes at him. "A late dinner won't kill you," she muttered, shaking her head. "Oh, c'mon Solas, it's going to be fun. Take my hand and join me in this quest of keeping sadness away from my dear subjects!"

With her hand outstretched for him to grab it, and a serious frown knitting her eyebrows, Solas couldn't say no to her. He took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers to walk by her side on their way to the kitchen.

The hallways were empty, their soft steps resounding in the silence. The majority of the people inhabiting Skyhold slept soundly, a few snores and grumbles reaching Solas' ears. From time to time, he could hear giggles coming from some rooms, and he hurried his step, eager to respect the privacy of those behind the doors.

The wall sconces held large touches to illuminate their way, and, in combination with their Elvhen sight, they could clearly see the path ahead of them. The flames cast long shadows on the floors, and sometimes, their light touched Elluin's face, colouring her pale, freckled kissed skin a soft orange. He found himself staring at her as they walked, his mouth drying and his throat growing thick. An impervious need to touch her, to push her against the wall and kiss her until she moaned with pleasure took over him, clouding his mind. He took a deep breath to steady himself, annoyed she broke his indomitable focus without actually doing anything. He fixed his gaze on the floor, counting backwards from one hundred to calm himself, refusing to take another look at her.

After a few more minutes of walking in silence, they reached the kitchen, one of the three kitchens in Skyhold. The smell of cinnamon and yeast tickled his nose as Elluin slowly opened the door, carefully not to announce their presence. He followed her, closing the door behind him with a low thud.

Inside, the three, tall working tables stood spotless, with no trace of flour or dough to stain their surface. The measuring cups were lined up on the tabletop, small soldiers waiting for orders. He could see the pans, plates and brushes through the cupboards display, their doors locked. He frowned, staring at the small locks, wondering why the baker decided to lock his tools so diligently.

A clay oven with a thick iron door, large enough for a person to climb inside, stood in a corner along the wall. A long flue reached outside through the wall, specially built by the baker to avoid any fumes escaping in the room. Solas admired the man's ingenuity and his ability to keep everyone safe without the usage of magic. He spent a few fascinating hours speaking with him, learning more about the art of creating functionally clay ovens.

"Well, this is weird," Elluin commented, scratching her cheek. "I can't see any tray with sweets."

He snorted. "I believe the Master Baker hid his creations from you. The man learned his lesson."

She rolled up her sleeves, revealing her toned arms. "Like that's going to stop me."

She approached one of the locked cabinets and grabbed a lockpick from her pocket, jamming it into the lock, twisting it a few times. "Let's see if Varric's lock-picking lessons will help me."

As Elluin struggled with the lock, he studied the room, one finger gently tapping his lips, his eyes analysing the potential hiding spots. He realised a man as bright as Marin would know better than to hide his food in locked cupboards. No, that was a trick, an ingenious method to keep the intruder busy until one of the kitchen workers heard the noise and came to stop them. It had to be somewhere in plain sight, a location no one would think about.

"The oven," he muttered, snapping his fingers. "Elluin," he spoke out, a faint trace of excitement in his voice. "The oven, he hid them in the oven. That door is closed to hide the tray from our view."

"The oven?" she made her way towards the oven, narrowing her eyes. "Why would he hide it there? There's ash everywhere!"

"Good question. Let us see."

The iron door made no sound as he pulled it opened, a testament of the cook's care. A faint magical barrier buzzed around the brass tray inside it, protecting the brownies from any ash or unburned charcoal.

"Magic!" she laughed, slapping the back of her thigh. " I can't believe this. He asked a mage to cast a barrier on his brownies."

"Indeed." He gave her a satisfied smile and crossed his arms, content he uncovered the cook's plans.

Elluin licked her lips as she waved her hands to cancel the spell. She reached for the tray and gulped down with gluttony, her mouth watering at the chocolate covering the brownies. She grabbed one, the tray dangerously balanced in her left hand, and bit it. A moan escaped her lips as the chocolate poured from inside it. Solas eyed her, the sound leaving her mouth causing his fingers to twitch as if pushing him to touch her.

"Vhenan," he intervened, taking the tray from her and setting it on the table. "How do you plan to eat twelve pieces of chocolate filled cake without getting sick?"

"That's why I asked you to come here with me, I need your help." she gulped down the food, hitting her chest with her fist as it refused to go down. "Those bastards don't deserve all this chocolate. It's been years since I tasted it, not gonna let it go to waste," she bit down on another, humming with pleasure and licking her fingers. "Take one, you're going to love it."

He gingerly took a piece from the trail, admiring the perfectly spread layer of chocolate, the soft texture reminding him of satin. He smelled it, the hint of vanilla tempting him to take a bite. The chocolate melted in his mouth, wrapping his tongue in a thick layer of pure pleasure. He closed his eyes, and a sigh of satisfaction escaped his throat.

"Delicious, isn't it?" Elluin remarked, smirking at him. "I knew you'd love it."

He opened his eyes and offered her a small smile. "You were right."

She winked at him and grabbed another piece, shoving half of it in her mouth. He laughed and shook his head at her, worried for the integrity of her jaw. He watched as she devoured three more brownies, baffled by her ability to swallow the food barely chewed.

A feeling of weightlessness cloaked his soul as she beamed with happiness, her cheeks rosy with delight. Her joy was contagious, and he smiled at her, grateful she chose to spend this moment with him. She picked him over the hundreds of people around her, over the men and women who craved for her love. She offered her heart and joy to him, a man who hid the truth, a man who had no right to receive this pure, untainted happiness. His shoulders dropped, and he averted his eyes from her smile.

She came closer to him, her fingers reaching for his chin, gently encouraging him to face her again. "You're doing that again," she whispered, her breath tickling his skin. "Getting lost inside your head. Don't. Stay here with me."

His gaze still avoided her face. "I apologise. My thoughts distracted me from the present."

"Is that so?" she murmured." I know the perfect way to keep you here."

Before he had a chance to ask more about it, Elluin grabbed the collar of his robe, pulling him down towards her to meet her chocolate cover lips. His lips instantly parted, as her tongue darted out to lick them, eager to explore his mouth. His muscles relaxed, hands resting lazily on her butt. She was right, he thought as his fingers curled into her hair, gently tugging it. When she kissed him, nothing mattered anymore, just the taste of her lips and the faint scent of lily of the valley coming from her hair.

Her hand moved to the nape of his neck, slipping under his robe. The touch of her skin against his sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine, and he moaned, raw and insatiable lust replacing any thought. He pushed her against the table, and her knees gave out, her butt hitting the tabletop. She wrapped her legs and hands around him, as if afraid he will pull away.

He wanted her. Right here and right now. He wanted to taste her skin, to follow the path of her freckles with his lips, from the top of her forehead to her toes. To make her sing as his tongue played with her folds, to finally taste her. He wished for nothing more than his nighttime fantasies to transform into reality. And right now, he couldn't care less they were in a kitchen, where anyone could find them.

A low growl left his throat as a part of his mind screamed at him, yelled at him to stop this foolishness, to remember his real purpose, his identity. He had no right to taste her body when he gave her only half-truths. He was wrong to take her fully when he hid parts of him. She deserved more than this, more than a man who was too afraid to speak the truth.

With a draining effort, he broke the kiss, gently pushing her away from him. She whimpered as his body left hers and she opened her eyes, arousal and confusion blending in her gaze.

He shook her head when her hands reached for him again. "No. This is not right."

Before Elluin could answer, the door opened with a loud bang, and a woman entered the room, waving a cooking paddle and shouting at them. "How many times do I have to kick you out, you thieves, this isn't the place for…." she stopped in her tracks, eyes widening with shock as she noticed the two of them.

"Your Grace! And you!" she frowned at Solas, confused by his presence. He could see it on her face how the pieces clicked together in her mind, her eyebrows shooting up. "I'm sorry Herald, I had no idea you two--," she stammered, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "I have to warm the oven, but I'll come later," she left in a hurry, barely giving them another glance.

Solas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, his hopes for keeping the matters of their relationship private, shattered.

"Well, this was bound to happen sooner or later," Elluin nonchalantly explained, getting off from the table and reaching for another brownie. "Until morning, every single person in Skyhold will think the Inquisitor had sex with the weird elf in the kitchen."

"Venan, I," he started, but she interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

"Don't apologise. You told me months ago you aren't ready and now you weren't ready yet. I get it," she shrugged, shoving the cake in her mouth, slowly chewing it.

Solas stared at his toes, cursing his mind for not stopping him faster.

"But I did enjoy our intense make-out session," she giggled and winked at him as he raised his head to look at her.

"C'mon, we still have a few of those. Let's be fast before that lady comes back and finds us here again. "

He watched her, eyes widen, once again awestruck by her kindness. Why? Why did she accept his explanations so easily? He had no idea, but he knew one thing: this fantastic, mysterious, infuriating woman would be his undoing. And he gladly accepted it because her love tasted like chocolate and brownies.

#14dalovers #solavellan #take my hand #midnight rendezvous #solas #lavellan #elluin lavellan #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #noire writes

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dreadfutures · 3 years

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And @crackinglamb who also tagged me!

I’ve had a really awful week but I’ve been slowly chipping away at this very important conversation between Ixchel and Solas. And I’d actually appreciate thoughts on this. I’ll just listen to whatever anyone has to say. This is long though so I’m going to put it under the cut.

Question: Specifically, I'm trying to navigate this complicated cause/effect and question of autonomy and individuality in their relationship, which happens to hold the weight of the apocalypse over both their heads in different ways. It is important that they both can operate as they wish, without fearing they will misstep and drive the other away

Ixchel definitely is one of the reasons Solas ultimately confronts some of his stubbornness/willful blindness, as his friend and someone he respects--it’s the way she lives her life and the way she hopes and fights and the world she believes in that ultimately makes him see more paths available than his din’an’shiral. It's not that she loves him or he loves her.

And he's aware that because of so many complications and questions about her resurrection, that she constantly feels like it might indeed be her love--and lovability--that’s holding back the apocalypse. And their relationship will never be equal and truly healthy until she stops carrying that burden. Somehow she needs to learn to trust that he has made his decision and will continue to make decisions based off of himself, and not her.

But also at the same time, he loves her, and she loves him, and they do help each other with like, reinforcing each other's hope, and reminding each other what they're fighting for, that the fight is worth it, and when the other one is tired, being able to prop them up and help them keep going as equals. There are the shadows of her own anxieties and depression that aren't entirely based in reality, but there are also these fears that are so deeply founded in reality. idk.

The Excerpt:

Ixchel and Solas finished bathing and washed their clothes—smiling like the foolish da'lenala neither of them had ever had the luxury to be. She was full of wine and laughter, and she knew that there would only be more waiting back in the Hold.

But as they dried off in the warm evening sun and she thought about the celebration of Hakkon's rebirth, her mind strayed to the name the Spirits of the Basin had given her, and what she had done to earn it. The shock and gratitude she had felt upon hearing herself called 'God-Song' had faded some, and now the chill of anxiety returned to the pit of her stomach. She shivered despite the golden light that surrounded them, and she felt Solas's attention shift from the sky down to her again. He did not speak, but she felt the question in his eyes on her bare back. "Vhenan," she began in a low voice, "should I… The Spirits called to Mythal through me. Was it her power that they summoned with that song? Or my own? Or theirs?" His grip around her waist tightened. "Do not be afraid," he said, but of course that solidified the cold tendrils of anxiety into hard, heavy dread in her gut. "The Spirits here are older than many," Solas said haltingly, "but they are still young. They remember only echoes of…'elf songs,' they call them. The echoes by themselves have power, even if the subjects of the songs cannot hear. That is the power of a prayer, spoken where the Veil is thin." He took a deep breath, and after a moment of consideration he sat up beside her. He rested one arm across his knees and began to trace idle patterns across her cursed forearm with the other. "I do not think she heard you." She stared across at his tense jaw, though his eyes remained on the horizon. "We summoned Flemeth at Mythal's altar in the Arbor Wilds, with a song," she whispered. He tilted his head slightly. "Did you not have the Well of Sorrows in your company?" "Ah." She gave a shuddering laugh as something, not quite relief, swept through her. "That's true." Solas responded with a shallow nod, but then, for a moment, his chest seemed filled with words. She waited, but he did not speak them before sighing again. "What is it?" she asked, and bit her lip. Solas slipped his arm around her waist to shift her closer, and then he sought out the Anchor. He spread her palm open, and with deliberate slowness, he dipped the pads of his fingers into the shining tear of magic her skin. It was as though he might slip through her hand and into the Fade that way. A vicious shudder wracked her frame; the penetration itself felt strange and dull, like a cramp, and yet the magic in her hand came to life with a hot flare. She could see the spirals of his orb across her skin, as she often could if she examined her palm closely, but now she could see the green tendrils of green rift magic as they wound their way up her wrist and her forearm. To her horror, it was clear that the Anchor had embedded itself almost halfway up to her elbow. She could feel Solas draw upon it with his concentration, and yet the reaching veins of the Anchor did not retreat. The damage had been done. Her fingers had curled around his instinctively, until the bones in his hand seemed to creak in protest. "I will not let them have you," he said. The finality with which he spoke made her feel as though he were not quite answering her question. Some other conversation had played out in his mind, and he had come to this answer. She did not know exactly whether he spoke of Flemeth and Mythal, or even perhaps the all-consuming power of the Anchor. She stared down at their joined hands, eyes burning, which was likely a sign that she was too exhausted to handle these conversations. When she heard and saw the resolve in him, she should have been able to stifle the part of her that remembered how he spoke to her of the din'an'shiral he must walk alone. She should not have immediately been afraid that the calculation he had done in his head was about his loyalties. It should have been a settled matter, and yet, still, it was not. Ixchel took a deep breath and tried to swallow that part of her. "I am more concerned about what she might do with you, Solas," she said truthfully. "How did I end up with Old God's spent soul within me? How did he come to possess it, when Mythal had taken it? Was he moving to the beat of her drum—knowingly, or not?" She saw the slightest twitch of his ear and knew that she had touched on a raw topic there, too. But this was a better topic, and one that was just as important for her to know the answer to. "If I have enticed you from the path that she wanted you on… Should I not be afraid, to stand against Mythal?" He turned his head abruptly, and she met his piercing gray eyes dead-on. After a moment's consideration, he reached around her to stroke her cheek gently with the backs of his knuckles. And she knew immediately that he had heard, beneath this line of questioning, the doubt that still ate at her. There was no challenge in his gaze, but the look with which he pinned her was not soft, either. "My loyalty is to our People above all else," he said, to make her heart seize in her chest. He continued in a measured voice that was heavy with blood and wine. "In Wycome. In Halamshiral. In Serault, and Minrathous, in Skyhold, and across the Veil… If Mythal indeed remains, she would not keep me from such a duty. For all the fearsome tales of the Witch of the Wilds, I cannot believe the All-Mother, if she truly remains, would undercut that work." She gripped his hand ever tighter. "And you… You are not afraid of Mythal," he said, a bitter note coloring his words. "You are afraid of walking your path alone. You are afraid that you cannot hold the Dread Wolf at bay with the strength of your love. And you cannot. You have not." His breath was hot across her face as he drew closer—not to kiss her, of course not, but rather as though he might impress upon her the full weight of his words with the strength in his silver eyes. "You are the Champion of the People. You have sworn, and I have believed." He squeezed her hand back, to emphasize his point. "For as long as you hold true to your purpose, you are my Champion, 'ma'lath, 'ma'av'in. But as you insisted, you chose yourself first. You gave yourself a name, decided its meaning." He brushed her hair behind her ear and then settled his hand firmly at the back of her neck, fingers tangled in her hair to hold her, ground her. He gave her the smallest shake. "Let me do the same." Ixchel swallowed. "Hope is a choice," she murmured. "Yes," he replied, "it is. So is trust." He kissed her gently then, and she tried to lose herself to it. The hand at the back of her neck slipped back to her ribs, to pull her close against his chest. She could feel his heart beat steadily beneath their skin, a steady, certain rhythm. She sighed into his mouth, and he hummed in response. "Ir abelas," she whispered as she broke away. They rested their foreheads together, eyes closed. "Do not be," he said, more gently than before. He raised their joined hands between them and traced the scar that ran down her chest, over her heart. "For all your stalwart strength, Ixchel, for all that you have reforged yourself from ruin, you cannot be blamed for fearing the one who shattered you. Especially when you have given him the very tools with which to shatter you again." Ixchel lost her breath as his words impacted her physically, and she opened her eyes to see that he had, too. For a moment, they were no longer silver—but rather they burned with the blue light of a god's power. That terrible gaze was focused on something deep within her chest…something that responded, and reflected his power back at him in painful resonance. "If there is one burden you can put down," he said, voice falling to a lilting whisper, "it is that you still carry the responsibility of the death of a world in your heart. Please… You must know it was not your failure." The magic in his eyes faded, and his lashes flicked up as he caught her staring at him. There were creases of grief at the corners of his eyes. "My mistakes will always be my own." The grief in his face might have seemed incongruent with the hard and heavy weight of his words, but she could feel how they hurt him as much as they hurt her. "I have told you that you have changed everything, but it was not your love for me, nor even my love for you, that has changed my course. It is the harm I have done to the world, the harm I know I might yet do, that stays my hand. Ane mala vasreëm." Perhaps it was the tears he saw well up in her eyes, or maybe it was simply his anxious mind trying to cut off any possible way he could hurt her more than he had already, but his own face was suddenly torn with pain and apology. "In saying this, I might seem to take away from your perceived victory—" "No," she said suddenly. "Solas, I do not need to believe it a war between us." She freed her hands from his so she could brush briefly at her eyes. "Thank you. I have only ever cared for your path as a friend... I love you, but--" she could not stem the flow of her tears, and she laughed at herself. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He obliged and held her tightly; warm, smooth skin pressed against her rough constellation of scars, and she was enveloped in his smell, his warmth, his magic. She knew that she was safe in his embrace. And she knew that he was right. Perhaps she could have thwarted the Dread Wolf's plans, had she not killed herself. But he had chosen his path, chosen to excise his heart and give it to her, and she had been right to think that to carry it—to redeem it, to return it—was a futile task. Solas had never betrayed her. He had never promised anything. Cole was right: Solas was only ever his own. It was Solas who had watched her walk her path. Solas had chosen to follow, open-eyed. And ultimately, it would be Solas who chose to stay. Life is a story written by two hands, after all.

#wip wednesday #btv wip wednesday #btv #solavellan #concrit welcome

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allmywardensaresafeandsound · 4 years

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my worldstates : Love Interests

I listed my dragon age LIs by worldstate, and each ended up with its own theme so I had fun trying to put it all down! be aware this is, just, like, my own personal analysis and thought process! it was for a specific exercise and I absolutely don’t pretend these interpretations are complete or perfect.

worldstate 1 : Zevran | Fenris | Cullen

nightmares and old demons

Zevran is haunted by his old relationships, his guilt, his upbringing with the Crow, by failing second chances and the fear of not measuring up and discovering he may simply not be good enough for love.

Fenris is haunted by his past as a slave, Danarius, the memories and identity he's lost, by all the things he wants and the fear of never being ready to have them.

Cullen is haunted by his trauma, by the choices he made as a templar, his lyrium addiction and the fear of not being able to keep up in a world that is ready to change.

worldstate 2 : Morrigan | Isabela | Dorian

wicked, gorgeous and abused

Morrigan was taught love was to be mistrusted, was no more than a tool used to snare, like beauty and blood-ties and knowledge.

Isabela was taught love hurt, and trapped, and lied. That love meant she was expected things, and that she was less for not providing those things the right way.

Dorian was taught love was a pretty, illusory thing that one enjoyed with wine and fleeting company. A guilty vice to make the masks bearable to wear.

worldstate 3 : Alistair | Anders | Merrill | Solas

a long story of sacrifices and blood

Alistair's sacrifice starts with a dog kennel, the joining, with the dark ritual, then finishes in the Fade.

Anders' sacrifice starts with exchanging the Circle with the Wardens, with sharing his body with a spirit in need, and finishes with an explosion and martyrdom.

Merrill's sacrifice starts with a cursed mirror, a drop of blood, the story of her people, and ends with her Clan's scorn.

Solas' sacrifice starts long ago, with old gods at war, a lost friend, the fall of a curtain, a world of mistakes, and ends with the sorrow of lost love.

worldstate 4 : Leliana | Nathaniel | Sebastian | Josephine

elegant, noble and romantic

Leliana is Orlesian, cunning and romantic. Frillies, ploys, masks, roses, shoes, bards, and the Grand Cathedral's Bells accompanying the Chant.

Nathaniel is Fereldan, loyal and proud. Wars, legends, trumpets, mabaris and halls filled with laughter, stories, ale, food and honor among family.

Sebastian is a Marcher, free and brave. Horses, adventures, faith, sunsets and sunrises, golden lands with no end in sight and a home under the Chantry's light.

Josephine is Antivan, daring and ambitious. Seas, opportunities, contracts, princes, dignity, travels, fruits, gold, corals, parchments, deals, and words more dangerous than knives.

worldstate 5 : Alistair | Carver | Varric | Cassandra

love in the shadows, written in history

Alistair is alone, then warden, then lover, then king. His mistress visits with laughter and gifts, with kisses and tales. He sometimes misses her, when the castle is cold and the days are long. But she's always back, and he’s at peace.

Carver is brother, then Champion, then lover, then Viscount. His more-than-friend winks at the guards when she wants to stop by and say hi, and he doesn't think it's funny. But it's enough that she does.

Varric is brother, then writer, twice a lover, then Viscount. His partner in crime is smart, and free and secret, and maybe he should know better after Bianca. But she's also the last thing he sees every night and the first thing he sees every morning, and it's new and beautiful, and addicting.

Cassandra is Seeker, then Right Hand, then lover, then Divine. Her secret lover is a whisper among holy walls, a rumour, at best, unspoken. But on her desk, every morning there's a newly plucked rose that doesn't need words.

worldstate 6 : Carver | Blackwall

soldiers, wardens and survivors

Carver looks for purpose, filled with frustration, with all the times he was denied and belittled. From Ostagar to fury, to Deep Roads, to the Wardens. He finds death, rebirth, and a new life.

Blackwall looks for death, filled with shame, with medals not his and a borrowed name. From Orlais to the Wardens, to lies and Skyhold. He finds purpose, hope, and a place to call his.

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 3 years

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Solar Orbiter: turning pictures into physics Solar Orbiter’s latest results show that the mission is making the first direct connections between events at the solar surface and what’s happening in interplanetary space around the spacecraft. It is also giving us new insights into solar ‘campfires’, space weather and disintegrating comets. “I could not be more pleased with the performance of Solar Orbiter and the various teams that keep it and its instruments operating,” says Daniel Müller, ESA Solar Orbiter Project Scientist. “It has been a real team effort under difficult circumstances this year, and now we are beginning to see those efforts really paying off.” Solar Orbiter’s ten scientific instruments are split into two groups. There are six remote sensing telescopes, and four in-situ instruments. The remote sensing instruments look at the Sun and its extended atmosphere, the corona. The in-situ instruments measure the particles around the spacecraft, which have been released by the Sun and are known as the solar wind, along with its magnetic and electric fields. Tracing the origin of those particles and fields back to the solar surface is one of the key objectives of Solar Orbiter. During Solar Orbiter’s first close pass of the Sun, which took place on 15 June and saw the spacecraft approach to 77 million kilometres, both remote sensing and in-situ instruments were recording data. Footprints of the solar wind Solar Orbiter data have made it possible to calculate the source region of the solar wind that hits the spacecraft, and identify this ‘footprint’ in the remote sensing images. In an example studied in June 2020, the footprint is seen at the edge of a region called a ‘coronal hole’, where the Sun’s magnetic field reaches out into space, allowing the solar wind to flow. Even though the work is preliminary, it is still beyond anything that has been possible so far. “We’ve never been able to do mapping this accurate before,” says Tim Horbury, Imperial College, London, and Chair of the Solar Orbiter In-Situ Working Group. Campfire physics Solar Orbiter also has new information about the Sun’s ‘campfires’ that captured the world’s attention earlier this year. The mission’s first images showed a multitude of what appeared to be tiny solar eruptions bursting across the surface of the Sun. The scientists called them campfires because the exact energy associated with these events is not yet known. Without the energy, it is not yet clear whether they are the same phenomenon as other smaller-scale eruptive events that have been seen by other missions. What makes it all so tantalising is that small-scale ‘nano-flares' have long been thought to exist on the Sun but we’ve never had the means to see events this small before. “The campfires could be the nano-flares that we are after with Solar Orbiter,” says Frédéric Auchère, Institut d’Astrophysique Spatiale, Orsay, France, and Chair of the Solar Orbiter Remote-Sensing Working Group. This is important because the nano-flares are theorised to be responsible for heating the corona, the outer atmosphere of the Sun. The fact that the corona is at about a million degrees Celsius whereas the surface is only about 5000 degrees is still one of the most puzzling issues in solar physics today. Investigating this mystery is one of the key scientific objectives of Solar Orbiter. To explore the idea, researchers have been analysing data by Solar Orbiter’s SPICE (Spectral Imaging of the Coronal Environment) instrument. SPICE is designed to reveal the velocity of the gas at the solar surface. It has shown that there are indeed small-scale events in which the gas is moving with significant velocity but looking for a correlation to the campfires has not yet been done. “Right now, we only have commissioning data, taken when the teams were still learning the behaviours of their instruments in space, and the results are very preliminary. But clearly, we do see very interesting things,” says Frédéric. “Solar Orbiter is all about discovery, and that is very exciting.” Surfing a comet’s tail As well as progress towards the planned scientific objectives of Solar Orbiter, there has also been serendipitous science from the spacecraft too. Shortly after Solar Orbiter was launched, it was noticed that it would fly downstream of Comet ATLAS, passing through its two tails. Although Solar Orbiter was not designed for such an encounter, and was not due to be taking science data at this time, mission experts worked to ensure that all the in-situ instruments did record the unique encounter. But Nature had one more trick to play: the comet disintegrated before the spacecraft got close. So, instead of the hoped-for strong signals from the tails, it was entirely possible that the spacecraft would see nothing at all. Solar Orbiter did see signatures in the data from comet ATLAS, but not the kind of things that scientists would normally expect. Instead of a strong, single tail-crossing, the spacecraft detected numerous episodes of waves in the magnetic data. It also detected dust in patches too. This was probably released from the insides of the comet as it split into many small pieces. “This is the first time we've essentially traveled through the wake of a comet that's disintegrated,” says Tim. “There's a lot of really interesting data there, and it’s another example of the kind of high-quality fortuitous science we can do with Solar Orbiter.” Stealth space weather Solar Orbiter has been measuring the solar wind for much of its time in space, recording a number of particle ejections from the Sun. Then, on 19 April, a particularly interesting coronal mass ejection swept across Solar Orbiter. A coronal mass ejection, or CME, is a large space weather event, in which billions of tonnes of particles can be ejected from the Sun’s outer atmosphere. During this particular CME, which burst from the Sun on 14 April, Solar Orbiter was about twenty percent of the way from the Earth to the Sun. Solar Orbiter wasn’t the only spacecraft that observed this event. ESA’s BepiColombo Mercury mission happened to be flying by the Earth at the time. There was also a NASA solar spacecraft called STEREO situated about ninety degrees away from the direct Sun-Earth line, and looking directly across the area of space that the CME travelled through. It watched the CME impact Solar Orbiter and then BepiColombo and Earth. Combining the measurements from all the different spacecraft allowed researchers to really study the way that the coronal mass ejection evolved as it travelled through space. This is known as multipoint science and thanks to the number of spacecraft now in the inner solar system, it will become an increasingly powerful tool in our quest to understand the solar wind and space weather. “We can look at it remotely, we can measure it in-situ and we can see how a CME changes as it travels towards the Earth,” says Tim. Perhaps just as intriguing as the spacecraft that saw the event, were those that didn’t. The ESA-NASA SOHO spacecraft, which is situated in front of Earth and constantly watches the Sun for eruptions such as this, barely registered it. This puts the 19 April event in a rare class of space weather events, termed a stealth CME. Studying these more elusive events will help us understand space weather more completely. In the coming years, the opportunities for multipoint science will increase. On 27 December, Solar Orbiter will complete its first Venus flyby. This event will use the planet’s gravity to swing the spacecraft closer to the Sun, putting Solar Orbiter in an even better position for joint measurements with NASA’s Parker Solar Probe, which will also complete two Venus flybys in 2021. As Parker makes in-situ measurements from inside the solar atmosphere, Solar Orbiter will take images of the same region. Together, the two spacecraft will give both the details and the bigger picture. “2021 is going to be an exciting time for Solar Orbiter,” says Teresa Nieves-Chinchilla, NASA Solar Orbiter Project Scientist. “By the end of the year, all the instruments will be working together in full-fledged science mode, and we will be preparing to get even closer to the Sun.” In 2022, Solar Orbiter will close to within 48 million kilometres of the Sun’s surface, more than 20 million kilometres closer than it will go in 2021. TOP IMAGE....A high-resolution image from the Extreme Ultraviolet Imager (EUI) on ESA’s Solar Orbiter spacecraft, taken with the HRIEUV telescope on 30 May 2020. The circle in the lower left corner indicates the size of Earth for scale. The arrow points to one of the ubiquitous features of the solar surface, called ‘campfires’ and revealed for the first time by these images. On 30 May, Solar Orbiter was roughly halfway between the Earth and the Sun, meaning that it was closer to the Sun than any other solar telescope has ever been before. Solar Orbiter is a space mission of international collaboration between ESA and NASA. • Solar Orbiter/EUI Team/ESA & NASA; CSL, IAS, MPS, PMOD/WRC, ROB, UCL/MSSL CENTRE IMAGE....Solar Orbiter’s Energetic Particle Detector (EPD) has been switched on and collecting data since March 2020. It has now collected an entire orbit's worth of data. EPD measures the energetic particles that zip past the spacecraft. It looks at their composition and variation in time. The data will help scientists investigate the sources, acceleration mechanisms, and transport processes of these particles. The diagram shows the flux of particles captured by the spacecraft during its first orbit (the earliest data is not included to avoid overlap on this diagram). The flux is calculated from the rate at which energetic particles are entering the instrument and represents space weather events in the solar wind. The spikes indicate the fluxes of electrons (shown as spikes pointing inwards towards the Sun in this representation) and ions (spikes pointing outwards), on a logarithmic scale. The solar wind is the constant stream of particles that flows away from the Sun. Energetic events such as solar flares and coronal mass ejections can accelerate and release large quantities of high-energy particles. Although the Sun has been relatively inactive this year, there have still been a number of space weather events that had dramatically increased the number of energetic particles flowing past Solar Orbiter. Although this plot comes from EPD, the three other in-situ instruments on Solar Orbiter are also designed to study these events in unprecedented detail. The three other instruments are Magnetometer (MAG), Radio and Plasma Waves (RPW), and Solar Wind Plasma Analyser (SWA). By taking these state-of-the-art instruments close to the Sun, Solar Orbiter is able to use high data rates to capture the details with more fidelity than ever before. In the case of the EPD, researchers are already seeing rapid variations in the number of particles that are associated with changes in the magnetic field, as seen by MAG. This is revealing fine scale structures and new physical interactions in the solar wind that we have never seen before. • Solar Orbiter/EPD (ESA & NASA) LOWER IMAGE....A few months after Solar Orbiter was launched in February, it measured the effects of a coronal mass ejection (CME) that came from the Sun. Similar measurements from other ESA and NASA spacecraft have allowed the evolution of the CME to be charted during its five-day passage from the Sun to the Earth. A CME is an eruption of around a billion tonnes of particles that comes from the solar atmosphere, the corona, and travels through the solar system. CMEs are an important part of ‘space weather’. The particles spark aurorae on planets with atmospheres, and can cause malfunctions in some technology. They can also be harmful to unprotected astronauts. So it is important to understand CMEs, and be able to track their progress. The CME that Solar Orbiter detected on 19 April was not particularly large or powerful. ESA’s Solar and Heliospheric Observatory (SOHO), which watches for CMEs heading for the Earth barely registered the eruption. Nevertheless, the CME effects were measured by Solar Orbiter and later by Bepicolombo. It was also seen by NASA’s STEREO-A spacecraft, which is situated about ninety degrees away from the direct Sun-Earth line, and looking directly across the area of space that the CME travelled through. The CME erupted on 14 April at 21:54 GMT. It passed Solar Orbiter, which was upstream of the Earth and nearer to the orbit of Venus at the time, at 05:07 GMT on 19 April. BepiColombo, which was closer to Earth, detected the CME at 07:00 GMT on the same day, and it finally passed by the Earth at 02:30 GMT on 20 April. With this multitude of datasets, researchers can trace the movement and evolution of the CME through time and space. It represents an example of ‘multipoint solar science’, which is set to become a feature of the Solar Orbiter mission as scientists correlate its measures with data from other spacecraft in the inner Solar System. • ESA BOTTOM IMAGE....Solar Orbiter will make numerous gravity assist flybys of Venus (and one of Earth) over the course of its mission to adjust its orbit, bringing it closer to the Sun and also out of the plane of the Solar System to observe the Sun from progressively higher inclinations. This will result in the spacecraft being able to take the first ever images of the Sun’s polar regions, crucial for understanding how the Sun ‘works’. Solar Orbiter is a space mission of international collaboration between ESA and NASA. Its mission is to perform unprecedented close-up observations of the Sun and from high-latitudes, providing the first images of the uncharted polar regions of the Sun, and investigating the Sun-Earth connection. It is scheduled to launch from Cape Canaveral, Florida, USA in February 2020. • ESA/ATG medialab

#space #science #Astronomy #physics #news #ESA #solar orbiter

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jackdawyt · 5 years

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Hello Thedosians, I am here today to explain 6 fan theories that must come true in the next Dragon Age instalment.

Saria and I have been researching and tinfoiling away on many popular fan theories that plenty of others have theorized as well. Please note, these are all theories, and we would love to hear your ideas in the comment section below. There is no right or wrong when it comes to speculation.

But without further ado, put those tinfoil hats on, and strap seatbelts to your ears because we're going to take them on the ride of their lives!

Theory: I believe the Blight emerged from a Blighted Titan

The origin of the blight is quite the mystery throughout Thedas with many sources having their own validation on how the blights began:

Chantry-folk talk about a Maker casting a blight onto his failed creations as a plague for punishment of man's excessive pride.

The blight was to be the tool by with the Maker would end all of creation. They preached that it came from the Void, a place of nothing. (Codex entry: Lyrium).

In Threnodies, The Chant of Light exclusively condemns the kinsman of the Tevinter Imperium for the blight's existence.

Threnodies 8.13: "The Chant says that the Maker created the blight as he cast down the seven magisters who blackened the Golden City. Twisted and corrupted, the seven found the Old God Dumat snoozing, their taint spread onto Dumat, cursing the dragon and unleashing the first blight onto Thedas."

However, Tevinter's Imperial Chantry claims that The Chant of Light is a fabrication, a lie to spite the Imperium. Henceforth, the Imperial Chantry believes that the darkspawn have always existed, even before the blights. The main culprits for the blackening of the Golden City and mankind's corruption are the lies of the Old Gods, not mortal pride.

Contradicting the chantry's tale of the blight. As history recalls, it was the Dwarven Kingdoms that were the first to fall to the darkspawn. While the Dwarves don't care for the blight's origin, or what causes it, a pair of Dwarven scouts do believe that the Darkspawn were created by a queen broodmother - the first in existence - responsible for breeding all darkspawn.

Perhaps at the very heart of our world sits a queen—the first mother. Instead of focusing on her children, we should target broodmothers and ensure that future reinforcements will never be born. Codex entry: The Eternal Battle: Darkspawn.

Even The Grey Wardens believe that the Blight is a spiritual corruption that pervades all that it touches, and that all Archdemons must be destroyed in order to stop any future Blights.

Now, According to Solas this is untrue - he indicates that killing all the Archdemons would not stop the blights, the hordes of Darkspawn would still continue to ravage Thedas. He knows that there is something much worse that's behind the blight.

So, the majority of humans in Thedas believe in either the Maker creating the blight, or the blight already existing in the Black City. While the Dwarves don't care as long as the blight can be stopped, and the Grey Wardens are adamant that the Archdemons' death will end the blights.

In short - it seems no-one in Thedas knows what caused the Blight, and those few who do dare say a word. *Stares at Solas*

However, there is something that we do know regarding the origin of the blight! The substance known as "red lyrium" is intrinsically tied to the blight, because red lyrium actually has Blight within it, spreading the taint:

"Red lyrium... it has the Blight."

—Bianca Davri

Regular lyrium is the blood of the world-shaping Titans, the substance empowers magic because it is a conductor that "bridges the gap between the dreamer’s world and the waking world." - (World of Thedas, Vol. 1).

It's used by mages to strengthen magical spells and abilities, while Templar's use it to maintain their immunity to magic, and repel spells.

However, Red Lyrium is blighted Titan blood - corrupted and distorted - carrying this plague throughout the land. Unlike regular lyrium which requires you to digest it in order for it to impact you, just being around red lyrium will significantly affect you.

The substance is most unique, it can thin the veil, allowing spirits and demons to interact with the "real" world. Prolonged exposure will change not only your mental outlook but your physical appearance too. When a templar ingests red lyrium, it improves their powers, grants them new ones and pushes their strength beyond measures.

Once consumed you can become easily become addicted. The more a Templar ingests, the more likely it is for the red lyrium to manifest - descending the subject into pure madness and crystallizing their body until it's pure red lyrium, not being recognized as having once been a human.

What's most concerning is how Red Lyrium came to be, the mystery still alludes us today. However, we can assume that it comes from a Titan, more apropos - a blighted Titan.

Based on Codex entries, we know that in the time before the veil, the Kingdom of the Elven hunted and declared war against the Titans.

"In this place we prepare to hunt the pillars of the earth. Their workers scurry, witless, soulless. This death will be a mercy. We will make the earth blossom with their passing."

Mythal, the God of Justice, personally slew a Titan, destroying the dwarf kingdom.

"Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!" - Trespasser DLC.

With the defeat of a Titan, the Ancient Elves discovered lyrium from its body. The elves continued to fight with the Titans, mining their bodies for lyrium and "something else". Potentially, their hearts that control the will of the Fade.

"The runes say the Evanuris fought the Titans. They mined their bodies for lyrium and... something else. It's not clear." - Trespasser DLC.

Lyrium has plenty of benefits to a mage, however, if Titan's created the Fade, perhaps their heart's can change the will of the Fade and that's why the elven people needed to slay one, so they can acquire a heart and change their reality.

Believing that the Titans were slain, the elves resumed their lyrium mining operations, until something changed. The normal lyrium became red lyrium, affecting the workers at an alarming rate, nothing could stop this.

"For a moment, the scent of blood fills the air, and there is a vivid image of green vines growing and enveloping a sphere of fire. The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic. Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast. A voice whispers:"

"What the Evanuris in their greed could unleash would end us all. Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger. The People must rise before their false gods destroy them all." - Codex entry: Veilfire Runes in the Deep Roads.

The blight spread through red lyrium onto the Elven workers, killing and turning them into tainted ghouls. With their meddling, the Evanuris already knew what the Blight could do even to them and their people...

"One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking The Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss. Yet even a god should not linger there, and each time she entered the Void, Andruil suffered longer and longer periods of madness after returning." Codex entry: Elven God Andruil.

They figured out that the Titan was not really dead and since the Blight infects only living beings, they had no choice but to seal the mining place.

The Evanuris returned, using red lyrium as a weapon, becoming mad. Mythal protests and is betrayed and "slain", Solas forges a trap for the remaining Evanuris, creating the veil and sealing the tainted "gods" away. Not only did the veil's creation lock away the blighted Evanuris, but the veil was needed to prevent the Titans from waking up.

"He broke the dreams to keep the old dreams from waking."

- Cole

In some regards, Solas saved the elven kingdom by severing the connection the Titans had with their "children".

Finally, we make it to the theory: I believe that the blight originated within a Titan.

Before the veil, the Titans exacted their revenge, blighted and breaking the seals of its prison with its newly acquired slaves - the elven people. it mentally called the dwarves and made them break the seals from outside thus freeing it and in turn, it infected them with the taint and made them its slaves - a corrupted form of a hive-mind.

It planned to strike vengeance upon the Evanuris. After some time, through its newly acquired slaves, it found the prisons of the sleeping Old Gods and decided to infect them too. planning to unleash the Taint upon Thedas.

The Old Gods, slaves of the blighted Titan and the generals of its army: they command the entire Darkspawn horde and in turn, they are commanded by the Titan to do its bidding.

Whether the blight came from the Titans like a defensive mechanism, or a plague to defend itself from hostile forces, or if the ancient elves/forbidden ones concocted the blight by using blood magic on a slain Titan. It's still unknown.

The blight could be a natural infection. Red lyrium might just be Titan cancer, a piece of their biology mutating mid-life and turning into something destructive and dangerous. That's why the blight has so many Titan properties. It has a Hive-Mind because Titans have Hive-Minds. It Sings, because Titans Sing.

With the veil in place, the Titans returned to a remorseful slumber. Angry because they can't reconnect with their children, awaiting the chance to embrace them once more. This yearning anger has manifested throughout the years with the growth of red lyrium, and the blight's progress.

The Titans have a strong connection to The Fade, or at least an association with it. When the Magisters used blood magic to physically cross the Veil and enter the Black City, the reestablished connection between the physical world and the dreaming Fade unleashed the blight again.

With the veil's destruction, surely a blight the likes of which have never been seen would be released onto Thedas. The Titan's pain will be heard by all.

We are here

We have waited

We have slept

We are sundered

We are crippled

We are polluted

We endure

We wait

We have found the dreams again

We will awaken - Whispers Written in Red Lyrium.

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Theory: I believe Solas is a Spirit of Wisdom/Pride in the time of Arlathan

Let's start at the beginning. His name:

Solas - In elven, means: 'Pride’

Pride is mentioned a lot in ancient elven texts, and it's used in the common dialogue of ancient elven tongue. But the only time Pride is mentioned throughout the knowledge of spirits and demons, Pride is represented as a demon.

Pride Demons are known as probably the most powerful demons out there.

"because they, among all their kind, most resemble men; as clever and manipulative as the desire demon, with a penchant for cruel irony that is almost human" -Beyond the Veil: Spirits & Demons.

In it's corrupted form, it's a malicious beast, known for it's 7 eyes. Much like the Dread Wolf’s depiction in it’s given mural…

Now there's a lot of spirits we have met in the Fade throughout Thedas, in this case, Wisdom Spirits are known for giving knowledge. Knowledge of either lore or history from the past ages.

The thing about a spirit’s nature is that it's evident who they are, and what their name describes them as, so it's easy to interpret their purpose. Cole as Compassion fixes up relationships, mourning those of the dead, and help resolve hard situations in which is hard without the need of Compassion.

The hard thing to notice is that if a Pride Demon resembles so much of humanity, and Wisdom is the opposite spectrum of Pride. Wisdom would also resemble this trait, of being human. Making Solas that much easier to tie into our reality.

"Wisdom and Purpose are too easily twisted into Pride and Desire" -Solas

The Chant of Light, says, the Spirits are the first children of the Maker. He turned his back on them because they lacked a soul – they could twist the Fade to their liking, but lacked the ability to imagine and create, and thus emulate their creator.

The only entity we can come across in ancient elvehn would be Elgar'nan,

‘Elgar’ translated in elvhen means "spirit"

‘nan’ translated means "revenge, or vengeance"

So it directly translates as ‘Spirit of Revenge/Vengeance’, whom Elgar’nan’s purpose as a God is as well...

Thus, the Evanuris could all be implemented as spirits first and came into existence to a body…

The Fade began as an "ocean of dreams" and was reduced to a well when the Maker used its "emerald waters", lyrium. He "took from the Fade a measure of its living flesh" and created men.

"They made bodies from the earth. And the earth was afraid. It fought back. But they made it forget ." — Cole

Solas begins to tell the Inquisitor that the Evanuris were remembered as Gods due to war against someone else. Either the Forgotten Ones or the Titans, it doesn't seem to matter when the result seems to resonate in Solas much more than we would expect...

I believe that when Mythal came to seek Solas for more wisdom when he was a spirit. She actually needed him for this war. What I mean is that he would now become seated as a left-hand man to Mythal - a general to help the People into the justice needed for their power.

Solas; probably being convinced, for the time being, comes into a body:

He did not want a body. But she asked him to come. — Cole

He becomes a guardian to her side, a servant of Mythal. Mythal describes those into her service more of a gift than a boon. So those who felt convinced for seeking knowledge or power must have been willing to be at her side just like Solas was.

“You didn’t do it to be right, you did it to save them.”

Solas, what is Cole talking about?

A mistake… One of many made by a much younger elf who thought he knew everything…”

Solas, as a Wisdom spirit had no desire to enter this world with a body, (such as limiting things), but for whatever reason 'she' asked him to come, she being Mythal.

‘He wants to give wisdom not orders. He isn’t that kind of wolf’ — Cole

Solas loathes his purpose. He’s Pride, but he hates it, he wants to change, wants to be Wisdom, but that’s not his purpose at this moment….

He envies Cole’s purpose as a spirit of Compassion:

‘You don’t have to envy me Solas.’ — Cole

He is sad to see his friends depart this world, knowing things are being forgotten, broken, and lost. He will endure, and he will be their Pride.

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Theory: The Griffons Are Alive, And The Wardens Know It

The Weisshaupt conspiracy:

Fortress Weisshaupt has stood through the ages as the Grey Warden’s headquarters, it is located in the southern Anderfels. During the height of the Wardens' power, the fortress was a thriving place, accommodated thousands of Wardens and a large stable of griffons.

Griffons are heroic winged beasts that joined the fights with their Grey Warden counterparts in the previous blights, as warden and beast shared an unbreakable bond throughout Weisshaupt's history.

Each of the defeated Old God’s remains are memorialized in Weisshaupt’s treasury, declaring the grand victory that the previous wardens had claimed in the name of the group.

The castle is a reflection of everything the Wardens have stood for, throughout the ages. However, in the current Dragon Age, Weisshaupt has become a barren place with a garrison of only a few hundred, the griffons are long extinct, and the reigning First Warden is rarely present.

The Grey Wardens have become irrelevant in the current age with the last blight that occurred over 10 years ago. In actuality, the Wardens have become a hindering, reckless group. During the crisis of Corypheus’s ascension to Godhood, the Orlais Grey Wardens submitted themselves to Tevinter, so they could defeat the two remaining Old God and “end the blights” once and for all.

Once Thedas’s only protectors, and now blinded by their own cause. The Wardens couldn’t even see the real enemy in front of them. And since those events, the group has become even more corrupt with rumours reporting on broken ties between the leaders at Weisshaupt, and how a civil war awaits each of them.

“Rumors abound that they severed ties with their leaders at Weisshaupt, and that a bitter war now rages between them.”

“What becomes of Hawke/Loghain/Stroud/Alistair is unknown – save that all news out of Weisshaupt soon ends.”

“Does the sudden silence indicate a battle within... or something far worse?”

Morrigan, Epilogue

Weisshaupt fortress remains silent, having gone dark from the rest of the group, but why? What caused the Wardens to stop communicating with each other? Was it merely to stop the corruption of the group from spreading, or is something even more aloof?

Have the Wardens finally met their own demise? Has each brother fought their sister? What has truly become of the Weisshaupt Wardens?

Well, perhaps it’s not as suspect as everyone in Thedas is making it out to be. The Wardens have always been a highly suspect group with many secrets, most of the general public don’t understand the Joining, there are plenty of things that the Wardens keep hidden from the average Thedosian.

So, what exactly could the Wardens of Weisshaupt be harbouring, that would force them to isolate themselves from the rest of the group?

Well, in 9:41 Dragon, several Warden-Recruits are assigned to Weisshaupt and begin a research project into records from the Fourth Blight. While there, one of the recruits discovers the diary of Isseya, a Grey Warden from the Exalted Age which reveals that there is a clutch of live Griffons hidden in the Anderfels. The new Wardens successfully rescue the griffons and resolve to return them to Weisshaupt where they will have the facilities to help the griffons re-establish themselves.

Valya; one of the recruits who found the griffon clutch, shows hesitancy at informing the wardens of her discovery. Valya says of the First Warden, Chamberlain of the Grey and High Constable:

"I don't trust them to place the griffons' well-being over power or politics." (pg 280).

Could the Wardens of Weisshaupt be fighting over what is to come for these griffons? Who controls them? How they will be raised? What will their purpose be?

The sheer existence and resurgence of Griffons in the Dragon Age could have caused the need for a sudden silence across the group, if the people of Thedas knew this secret, it could be dramatic.

And with the corrupted Wardens in the South, it may not be in Weisshaupt’s best interest to share this information with the rest of the Wardens for fear of this secret being revealed.

Perhaps this has caused a rebellion inside the Fortress, splitting the group’s leaders over the future of these griffons, and if the people of Thedas deserve to know. With factions within the Grey Wardens both agreeing and disagreeing with sharing this news to the rest of the Wardens.

A civil war brews in the Wardens HQ, will what’s left of the Griffons preserve in this Age? Or will the ignorance of the Wardens once more be an obstacle for the existence of these beasts?

Can the Warden’s rise up to their former glory? Or will they soon meet their demise? As it stands, Weisshaupt remains in the dark, the Wardens are waring amongst themselves, while the fabled Griffons return to the Dragon Age.

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Theory: I believe the Evanuris will return once the Veil is torn.

Solas' plan involves tearing down the Veil and restoring the 'time of the elves'. It is stated that when the Veil is torn, the Evanuris will return. But why does that not bode well?

'They were fickle, they amassed wars against one another' — Solas

The Evanuris are known to be power-hungry tyrants that used the bidding of their slaves for power. The more power they received, the more the threat they posed against the world.

'Had I not created the Veil, the Evanuris would have destroyed the entire world' — Solas

It is stated that Falon'Din began wars to amass more slaves, and filled lakes as wide as oceans for those who wouldn't bow low to his shadow.

Andruil, made armors of the Void, hunting the Forgotten Ones in the thrill of the hunt. And brought back plagues and speaking about madness, things forgotten.

‘One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking The Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss. Yet even a god should not linger there, and each time she entered the Void, Andruil suffered longer and longer periods of madness after returning.

Andruil put on armor made of the Void, and all forgot her true face. She made weapons of darkness, and plague ate her lands. She howled things meant to be forgotten, and the other gods became fearful Andruil would hunt them in turn.’ — Translated from ancient elven found in the Arbor Wilds, source unverified.

Ghilan'nain made monstrous beasts that threatened both the skies of the heavens and the depths of the earth. Even rumored to have used the body of slaves and animals as armor.

Elgar'nan cast down the sun unto the earth, seeping the life's blood onto the land. Eidolons were made by thousands of slaves built upon mountains, screaming his worship upon the lands.

'You said that the Elvhen Gods went too far. What did they do they made you move against them?' — Inquisitor

'They killed Mythal' — Solas

The Evanuris plotted out the kill the All-Mother of the Pantheon. They were crazed by reaching for ultimate power, by killing even their own kin to do so.

“She cared for her people, she protected them, she was a voice of reason, and in their lust for power, they killed her” — Solas

The Evanuris warred against one another commonly, this civil war began first with them being generals against the Forbidden and Forgotten Ones.

'Long ago, there were two clans of gods, the Creators, who looked after the people, the Forgotten Ones preyed upon us' - Merrill

'After the war ended, they became respected elders, then kings, and finally Gods, the Evanuris.' — Solas

They banished those of that kin and were rose up into godhood for their power. Sent them to belong in the Abyss, and thrive on things forgotten to somehow bring their People into glory. However, that did not last, slaves represented power in the Pantheon.

Such power was not given freely, all were threatened by each of their knowledge and striked against one another to become divine. When Mythal became a voice of reason to protect her own People, they killed her and began planning to gain power against all who opposed them, making them almost unstoppable.

Solas then began a plan to stop this once and for all:

'Fen'Harel was clever. He went to each side and told them the other had forged a terrible weapon, a blade that would end the war.' — Merrill

Solas trapped both the Gods, by putting them in their respectful places, banishing them to an eternity of torment.

'He sealed them both in their realms forever.' — Merrill

'And when they went too far, I formed the Veil and banished them forever' — Solas

'You banished the false Gods, you didn't kill them?' — Inquisitor

Solas then created the Veil to trap the false gods into their respective prisons.

'Hiding, hurting, and to wake them.' — Cole

The Evanuris were now trapped from destroying the world, Solas begins to state that he finally freed the elvhen people, but their results ended in destroying their world as well...

But there are still some remnants of being alive to return once again:

“You meet Mythal did you not? The first of my People do not die so easily” — Solas

Since the Evanuris will return, I believe their remnants must already grasp some remains of beings of Thedas. Just as similar as to when the Breach stirred the Titan, the Evanuris could be having the same effect as well.

"There are no gods. There is only the subject and the object, the actor and the acted upon. Those with will to earn dominance over others gain title not by nature but by deed."

"Let Andruil's bow crack, let June's fire grow cold. Let them build temples and lure the faithful with promises. Their pride will consume them, and I, forgotten, will claim power of my own, apart from them until I strike in mastery." — Codex entry: Geldauran's Claim

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Theory: I believe the Dread Wolf will Rise.

'When He rises, everyone will see' — Sandal

It is already claimed in the teaser trailer that the Dread Wolf will rise. Solas, the next antagonist will rise up against his opposers in the next instalment.

However, the Dread Wolf rising doesn't have to be him doing so physically, but rather, rising up to take responsibility in ending our Veil-like world to restore his elvhen People.

'I will save the elvhen people, even if this world may die' — Solas

Particularly, what will Solas 'rise up' to do when ending our world? The mural we saw looks as if the Dread Wolf is rising much higher above the elvhen bald-figure, and poses as a threat with its red eyes. Could Solas be looking for a source of power to rise against the Veil?

'The shadows will part, and the skies will open wide.' — Sandal

'I would've entered the Fade using the mark you now bear, then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw-chaos, I would've restored the world of my time, the world of the elves. ' — Solas

At the beginning of the Inquisition, Solas kept at a nearby village to retrieve the Orb that carried power over a period of time for millennia. Solas' plan was to retrieve the Orb after Corypheus had died unlocking it, and then have the mark which the Inquisitor bears.

His plan the whole time for this world, was to destroy it and revive the world of his time with the elvhen and also the evil Evanuris. He gave the orb to Corypheus so it could gain enough power to tear down the Veil, which is what he wanted all along. He would have risen up to power and created a plan to destroy the Evanuris before they got their chances of gaining ultimate power.

I believe not only his first personal plan involves him rising up to power against the Pantheon. But that he also 'rose' from a slumber he took. Solas now has awoken to a Tranquil-like world, and will begin his journey to go against the forces of this world. Seeking help where he can reach with spirits and the elvhen, and then opening the Veil in the sky and render the Fade into the Waking world as one.

'I was too weak to unlock it after my slumber' — Solas

He seemed quite sad when the orb broke after all the orb was key to opening eluvians and the Fade.

After defeating Corypheus, Solas’s last chance after the Orb broke was to reach out to Mythal and gain enough power to tear down the Veil. He takes the remnants she bestows to him, and he begins his journey to rise up against the Veil. He starts by taking over control of the eluvians, unleashing spirits to fight against the Qunari threat.

Solas isn't messing around this time, he finally has some amount of power to break the Veil and restore a world before it becomes bad. But how will he rise?

Thedas knows very little of the Dread Wolf, known as a treacherous, merciless, figure that is heavily feared in Dalish tales, the Evanuris fear it too.

'The pages of this book-memory?- warn of a terrible danger, a wolf with slavering black jaws and pits for eyes. The Evanuris-the elven gods-stand in a ring around it, as if preventing it from attacking.

"Beware the forms of Fen'Harel The Dread Wolf comes in humble guises, a wanderer who knows much of the People and their spirits. He will offer advice that seems fair, but turns slowly to poison. Remember the price of treason, and keep in your heart the mercy of your gods."'

— Note: The Treachery of the Wolf

This depiction of Solas having pits for eyes, and slavering black jaws, they warn those of the terrible danger coming. Wherever the Evanrus are hiding, they are surrounding this Dread Wolf to prevent any attacks. What could be speculated is the factor that Solas and the Dread Wolf could be different aspects of each other, like Corypheus puts an aspect in his Red Lyrium Dragon. This, could be closer to a red lyrium wolf.

What if, as described in the codex, Solas is going to finally reach the place were the Evanuris are hiding, use this aspect of himself, the Dread Wolf, to rip open the Veil?

However, the Veil is to be known recently to be weaker than it has ever been since the Breach:

The Tevinters once theorised that the Veil is thin in places that have seen great bloodshed. — Codex entry: Tears in the Veil

Demons seize every opportunity, every tear in the Veil, to enter our world. The Breach is living proof of the chaos it can unleash. In Hushed Whispers was living proof of how the world can become...

But it is theorized that the Veil tends to be weaker in places that feature, or have experienced, extensive death or use of magic.

‘Small tears occur naturally when magic weakens the Veil or when Spirits cluster at an area that has seen many deaths’ — Solas

The tear occurs because spirits are attracted to death and they press against the Veil. The Veil is particularly thin at night when most people sleep and spirits are most active. The use of blood magic can allow the Veil to be torn so that demons may physically pass through it into the waking world.

Once the Veil is torn in places, it is extremely difficult to mend, and some might even say impossible. "Mending" these Tears, i.e. strengthening the Veil, is extremely difficult. Depending on the level of damage done to the Veil, it can be closed through several methods ei. The Anchor.

One place that is particularly known to have the Veil thinner, is Kirkwall. A lot of chaos was constantly influenced upon that city, and that is ultimately where we first located Red Lyrium as well…

It is well known that the Veil is thin in Kirkwall, small wonder given the suffering in the city. But we've discovered the magisters were deliberately thinning it even further. Beneath the city, demons can contact even normal men. Did they seek the Black City to compound the madness of their previous efforts? Or was it something else? We've found a chamber where the Veil is at its thinnest, long-since looted, but the power is still there. — Band of Three, The Enigma of Kirkwall

What is known is that places around Thedas where deaths/chaos have occurred more than frequently are now further weakening the Veil. For Solas, that only means an easy key to breaking the barrier that separates the Fade from the Waking World.

“You’d murder countless people?” — The Inquisitor

‘Wouldn’t you to save your own?’ — Solas

The sky may have never healed ever since the Inquisitor sealed the breach, which may prove worthy for Solas’s plan to destroy the veil. His execution to tearing down the Veil might work once and for all.

And the sky is healed. Healthy, whole, there’s just that left to remember.. - Cole.

A new dawn is appearing, the dawn is coming upon Thedas.

‘One day the magic will come back - all of it. Everyone will be just like they were.’ — Sandal

Solas will rise as the Dread wolf to take the Veil down, and whether his plans are fully executed, could be the end of our time…

‘We aren’t even people to you?’ — Inquisitor

‘Not at first, you showed me I was wrong, you were people and you deserved better. Like all the rest I used after one hopeless battle after another.’ — Solas

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Theory: I believe that Mythal is the true Antagonist of Dragon Age.

'For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens. She was betrayed, as I was betrayed, as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!' — Flemeth/Mythal

All Mother, all Protector, a voice of reason, who calmed Elgar'nan's rage, has been betrayed by her own kin. She is the Goddess of Justice and is due for her bidding.

In Ancient times of Arlathan, Mythal, born out of a sea of the Earth's tears.

"In most stories, Mythal rights wrongs while exercising motherly kindness." — Morrigan

She was the aducator of her Elvhen People. Making sure threats were kept at bay, and opposers stuck down for justice.

“Let fly your voice to Mythal. Deliverer of justice. Protector of sun and earth alike.

Pray to Mythal and she would smite your enemies, leaving them in agony" — Morrigan

Mythal was a speaker for all people and even the Evanuris, yet her actions were recorded to be sinister like the rest of the Evanuris:

'Other paint her as dark, vengeful.' — Morrigan

Being more than the other Evanuris gave Mythal an edge, a way to take any of them on and win. hence her dark side being interpreted in tales. She demonstrates this ability in confrontation with Andruil.

So Mythal spread rumors of a monstrous creature and took the form of a great serpent, waiting for Andruil at the base of a mountain.

When Andruil came, Mythal sprang on the hunter. They fought for three days and nights, Andruil slashing deep gouges in the serpent's hide. But Mythal's magic sapped Andruil's strength and stole her knowledge of how to find the Void. After this, the great hunter could never make her way back to the abyss, and peace returned.

— Translated from ancient elven found in the Arbor Wilds, source unverified.

This also makes her nigh impossible to defeat, but she has one glaring weakness: her desire to protect the People. In the time of Arlathan, Titans were threatening the Elvhen, and Mythal sought out the Titan to stop the chaos of their lands.

"Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!"

— Codex entry: Veilfire Runes in the Deep Roads

So, when the People kill their first Titan, and in the process unleash the Blight:

'The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle as if filled with angry energy.

A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic.

Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells, is cast.'

— Codex entry: Veilfire Runes in the Deep Roads

Mythal, having a closer association with the Land (the Stone, the Titans) knows exactly what has happened and sacrifices herself to keep the Taint at bay. She splits herself into aspects and buries them as a magical seal against the Taint, replacing the lost Titan. One aspect she keeps on the surface world, to remain among the People. This sacrifice made her vulnerable and the other Evanuris did not hesitate to strike.

'they killed Mythal, a crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment.' — Solas

Then Solas moves against the Evanuris, creating the Veil and banishing them into their respective prisons until the bidding of Mythal comes. In which, she has put herself into aspects that effect chaos throughout the lands, buying time for power, until she becomes one again. It awakens and takes form when an uncorrupted piece of Mythal is found by a Tainted priest, their form becoming malicious and broken, until an effective ritual to retrieve the soul uncorrupted...

Flemeth, as we know now to be Mythal, has been manipulating the Ages ever since, she enforces the effective immortality unto her bodies of her daughter to live an abnormal life to endure the ages, all the while.

'Seeking the Justice denied to her' — Flemeth

Mythal has been quite busy after her death when Solas created the Veil, it seems that

'Mythal still endures' — Solas

Solas is now enforcing her plan, it seems to pain him that his mistakes cause further action to take place with Flemeth.

'I am so sorry' — Solas, Epilogue

Solas respects Mythal. He once sealed away the Thedosian versions of heaven and hell and shook the world to its foundations in order to avenge her murder. Now, his own mistake—getting the Orb to Corypheus—means that he himself will now have to take her life and do her bidding.

She plans to seek revenge for the Evanuris, she does not care for the Veil-like world, she believes it was a last-minute effort against an enemy, she seeks to bring all into the new Age, where she rules, the Dragon Age.

'A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan, you were never in danger from me.' — Flemeth

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