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jadewing-realms · 2 years

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zevwarden week 2022 - day 2

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins

Title: ZevWarden Week, Day 2 - Gold

Pairing: Zevran x male!Warden; Zevran Arainai x Salem Surana (x Leliana, poly!Warden referenced)

Word Count: 1,368

Crows have garnered a rather unfairly bad reputation. Not Antivan Crows, of course; actual crows. Black birds too commonly seen as frightening, intimidating, dark, mysterious bearers of bad omens. Zevran finds it funny, how many would say the same thing about the Warden.

_______________

There was something incredibly satisfying about knowing a secret that few others were privy to. It created moments in which Zevran would hear others talking about the subject of said secrets, trading wildly inaccurate information none the wiser, and he’d be left to smirk to himself, knowing he and he alone knew the truth. It fell along the same veins as his previous work, being a spy and an infiltrator, pilfering and safeguarding sensitive truths like a little hoard all his own. Except these secrets meant so much more than those ones did. These were secrets no amount of gold could ever buy.

For each secret about the last Grey Warden was a little treasure, and Zevran cherished them all. Much in the same way that Salem himself cherished the things he collected - though that hoard was much more... eclectic.

Zevran once thought he knew Crows. Knew why the assassins’ guild had chosen that name - because a flock of crows was called a Murder, of course. And such a dramatic irony could never be ignored. Crows were omens of ill-fortune, thieves and scavengers. It had seemed accurate.

At least, until he got to know Salem Surana.

It had started small, in their world-saving days, whenever they’d make camp in the wilds, dodging enemies from all sides. In those short times of peace amidst war, there’d be moments. Moments where Zevran would find Salem sitting across from a particular tree as if conversing, only to spot a single black bird in the branches. The next time Zevran would find him, there’d be more.

It never stopped, even after the conflict had ended. Despite aiding Alistair as an advisor, Salem rarely spent more time than necessary in the capitol. He wanted to keep traveling, he said, and Zevran and Leliana were free to join him if and when they wished. So they did, and along the way, others joined them, this time not to fight great evil, but to simply... be. Salem welcomed those who wished to experience the land, the wilds, and as much as they were able, magic.

And every step of the way, Salem was constantly befriending crows. He had a way with them that Zevran could only marvel at - though, considering how thoroughly the mage had Zev wrapped around his finger, perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised.

In the same way that Salem gave offerings of wayfaring freedom to the curious and open of mind, he gave things to the crows he met. Little things, seemingly random things. Nuts, berries, rocks. Keys, coins, bits of string, broken jewelry, scraps of metal or brightly colored fabric.

In kind, they brought him things in return, mostly of a similar ilk. On occasion, they’d deliver startlingly valuable items - whole gold pieces, scrolls, a wand once. However, most of the time, the crows brought things that had very little worth in the grand scheme of things, but made for a fabulous amount of odd and endearing clutter. He kept them all. Zevran never saw him throw a single crow’s gift away.

When the earring Zev gifted him became a permanent fixture on his ear, that really should have been the first sign.

By the time the little troupe decided to make a more permanent encampment in the wilds, under Salem’s guidance, Zevran had begun taking inspiration from the crows in his own gifting practices. He let his whims guide him, and anything that caught his attention for no good reason - anything shiny or strange or just plain fun - would immediately be purchased. Or pocketed, depending.

Then, Zevran would wait until a particularly good moment to give it. Once, it was when Salem returned from a stint to the capitol for a noble function; he returned exhausted and frustrated with court complexities, and Zevran distracted him with a well-timed kiss and a pretty little brooch he’d picked up from a village bazaar. Another time, they were both covered in blood, as they usually were after a darkspawn encounter. Zev had decided to provide levity to the moment by handing over a metal contraption he was fairly certain was a chastity cage, though it was pitifully small and dangerously rusted from its time in the riverbank he’d found it on, which was where he’d attracted the attention of the darkspawn in the first place. Salem had nearly died laughing, and Zev considered it a job well done.

Their tent back home had, in a comparatively short time, become a veritable dragon’s hoard of knickknacks and trinkets that made no sense being together, yet looked incongruously fabulous all piled up, hanging off cords and chains on the tent posts or old nets strung between them. It was rattling, glittering chaos... but it was Salem’s chaos. A crow’s chaos.

Funny how the Grey Warden was as much a crow as Zev had once been, but in an entirely different way.

Because Salem befriending crows meant Zevran got to know them too. He soon found them a much more heartwarming subject than he thought they would be. They were incredibly intelligent, but terribly distractable. Deeply curious, but comically cautious. They were organized, had families and scouts and distinct ways of communicating the approach of a friend or foe, danger or celebration. They remembered well those who were kind to them, and even better those who were not. They held grudges for generations, and funerals for their dead.

Spending time with the crows soon became spending time with Salem. Learning more of those secrets Zevran held in such esteem. Some of them even secrets he might have dared to exploit not too long ego; now, he saw them for the treasure they are.

“It’s a shame,” Salem said once, breaking off crusts of bread to toss to the local murder, “that so few understand crows as they are. In the Circle, they were simply... foreboding signs. Harbingers of misfortune. It’s unfair, really.”

“Hm.” Zevran sat back, leaning his palms into the dry grass. His gaze scanned the many, many crows surrounding them, some simply watching, others swooping in and out to fetch the bread. A few hung comfortably close, hopping up to them for pets and scritches before bounding away again. “Well, there is something to be said for an imposing reputation. It keeps the less savory types at bay.”

Salem’s face twisted, silver-grey eyes narrowing at the middle distance, a clear look of doubt. “Not really... in fact, I think it makes the less savory the only ones who will give the birds a chance. Which in turn just reenforces their reputation as evil, because they’re spending time with the selfish or dangerous or deadly, and it’s just...” He trailed off, hand tucking under his ashen hair to rub the back of his neck, as if he’d realized he was rambling. “...a whole misfortunate thing.”

“True enough.” Zev turned a smirk to his partner. “I suppose that makes us quite the wicked pair, ah?”

He realized then that what he just said was far more true than he meant it.

Salem seemed to pick up on that right away, smirking back. “A renegade Circle mage turned to blood magic, tainted with darkspawn blood, and a wanted assassin from the slums of Antiva on the run from a deadly mercenary guild? Whatever do you mean, ‘wicked’?”

After that, Salem had surprised Zevran with a gift for once. An earring. Not a match to his own, but a spiritual companion to that gift. Not a particularly beautiful one either, but something unique. An unrefined amber stone set in a pendant of gold covered in a handsome tarnish. Salem said he found the pendant at a merchant’s estate sale, sans gem, and that the hunt for the latter had spanned several different cities and countless pawn shops and ultimately, it had been a crow that brought him the amber. A unique gift, a gift with thought. One that Zevran gladly accepted. Along with the kisses that followed.

In a way, he realized both of them shared a kinship with the crows. Both ostracized for reputations outside their control. Both far kinder, warmer, more affectionate than most would ever think.

And all of them greatly fond of trinkets.

#dragon age #dao #dragon age origins #zevran arainai #zevran x warden #zevran x salem #zevran x surana #salem surana #zevwarden #zevwarden week 2022 #trinkets #reflections on crows #antivan crows #and actual crows #salem has crow brain #in more ways than one #zevran x m!warden #crowcore #my writing

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jacklyn-flynn · 2 years

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Lemon cake (nsfw fluff) hidden below the cut.

Briall hummed softly in thought. As she contemplated, Zevran played with her hair, twisting the locks in his fingers. His cherished wife lay sprawled across the bed on her stomach, arms crossed with her head resting on them. He sat cross legged next to her, admiring the pale expanse of her back.

“Letto?” she guessed after a moment.

“Which is?” he prompted further, bringing her fire-orange hair to his nose and inhaling the rosewater and clove smell that was uniquely her.

“What we are currently on.” She laughed, opening her eyes to look at him over her shoulder. “Next?”

The next phrase he drew with lazy fingers on her back she got immediately and she answered before he’d even finished.

“I love you too,” she murmured, smiling. Though she’d closed her eyes again, she could hear the smile in his next words.

“Perhaps something harder then.” He traced the letters slowly across her spine and her muscles twitched against the ticklish touch.

“Sco…I didn’t catch the last half. Again?” Zevran’s fingers followed same path, goosebumps rising on her skin. “Scopami?” she asked hesitantly.

“If you insist, mi amore!” He rolled her onto her back, nudging her legs apart with his knee to settle between them, and blanket her body.

Her bright laughter echoed through the room when he attacked her neck with kisses, suckles and little love bites. “What does that mean?”

His cock slid against her core, still wet with arousal from their early-morning lovemaking. Her laughter turned into a moan and she bit her lower lip, her hips rising to follow his movements. He grunted into her ear when she wrapped her hand around him, guiding him to her entrance so that he could drive into her to the hilt. Her cry of pleasure and the feel of her nails raking his back almost made him forget she’d asked a question. “It means, bella tesoro,” he whispered in her ear, slowly pulling out only to thrust back into her once he’d given her the answer. “Fuck me.”

#headcanon du jour #hdj #dragon age #zevran arainai #zexy times with zevran #(still my favorite accidental tag of all time)#zevran x briall #zevran x surana #dragon age origins #dao #learning antivan the fun way #lemon cake for the sweet stuff

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icy-warden · 2 years

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What If

Or how Vergil&Zevran's first meeting would go, if Zevran showed how capable he is when he's serious about the job well done (and didn't look for a way to perish)? A story time with a bit of spice (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

[re-upload of story with minor edits]

Rating: Mature || on AO3 || Tags: Storytelling, Blood and Violence, Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Character Death, What-If, Established Relationship, Intimacy, Smut, Drinking, Beautiful and Dangerous and Exciting

✨

They said he was bad at planning. But this plan went exactly as he thought it would.

Well, almost exactly.

If he put his money on things being predictable, he’d lose, no doubt.

But he hasn’t totally fucked up so far.

One can never be sure what to expect when it comes to mages. Two mages, to be precise and one that can turn into a giant spider. He didn't know they could do that, like, for real.

It doesn’t really matter, as he has a few aces up his sleeve. His own apostate is busy with attacking the warriors of the wardens’ party, one a hornless qunari with a greatsword, second a human with shield and sword. Mismatched armors of poor quality do little when they’re overwhelmed by sheer numbers of attacks incoming from different places.

His archers are hidden well and do a good job with crippling the qunari, who goes down with a roar, but not before he fatally wounds two of his men. The human warrior holds on a little longer, only because his companion shields him with well aimed arrows.

She’s good, he thinks, as he stealthily darts to her spot. Using trees and bushes to his advantage - the terrain is difficult to defend in when one is ambushed. He glances over his shoulder when a crackle of lightning whizzes past him, catching his crew-woman, her scream short but blood curdling. He briefly watches her shaking wildly before her body thuds onto the ground like a puppet with cut strings, clothes sizzling. Dead.

His nose wrinkles at the smell of burnt skin, but he doesn’t spare her more than a look as he moves forward. Shouts and battle noise pierce the calm forest and he’s closer to the redhead, slowing his steps and sticking low to the ground when he gets near, unsheathing the poisoned dagger on his back.

One scratch and it’ll be over, the poison very potent. He’d know, he brewed it himself. Another yell and he doesn't look back this time, even with the gust of cold wind at his back. The other mage must have used another spell.

He holds his eyes on the woman who somehow noticed him. Her face’s sickly white and she favours her left leg when she swings his way, the bow almost colliding with his throat.

Spotted and attacked, he lungess to the left aiming straight for her neck. She dodges, barely, and the tip of the bow crashes with his unprotected arm, slowing him down for a second. Swiftly, he backs away, changing the dagger to another hand and just in time - the woman hurls the bow at him. Using the distraction she pushes forward, while he’s busy with the weapon thrown at him. A twist of his wrist and he catches her dagger pointed at his ribs with his own blade.

With the force behind the strike she would have pierced his leather armor, though the momentum makes her stumble closer to him. Only now he notices that her right side is covered in dried crimson, wide slash hastily covered with stained cloth. And yes, there it is, a corpse of a man partly hidden in the bushes, one he didn’t see earlier. Did a number on her before Zevran got to her, but it didn’t make her any less fierce.

She corrects her stance quickly, one more dagger appearing in her hands. Icy blue eyes hard, lips pulled in a sneer, she attacks, refusing to go down easily.

He can respect that, avoiding blows and slashes, pushing on when she steps back, only to kick at his knee. His eyes widen when it folds under him, the sickening pull in his gut telling him he fucked up royally.

In a blink she’s on him.

But he rolls away, gathering fist of dirt that he throws at her face. She shifts away, closing her eyes with a gasp, but her dagger catches him on his ear and cheek, a cold slice of steel morphing into a sticky warmth of blood. The pain is nothing, he ignores it, using the distraction and jumping at her, poisoned blade meeting its target. She cries out when it sticks in the meat of her tight, wavering on her feet as he jumps back, pommel in hand.

He watches her trying to go after him, but the poison’s already working - her fingers slacken and her weapons clatter to the ground. Blue eyes hold his own when she falls as well, weak hands searching for something around her belt but it’s too late. Quickened short breaths stop after a few more seconds and he sees the light in her gaze dull in death.

He exhales, the grip on his weapon tightening. Two more to go, though his crew should be already done with them. But as he turns to survey the battlefield, he’s met with two of his men turned into ice statues. The elven mage still stands somehow, looking like he’s one leg in his grave, but still defiant.

Zevran looks up when a loud flutter of wings sounds above him, a crow flying away with a bolt sticking somewhere under the feathers.

He doesn’t bother with it, bending down for the dead woman’s bow, nocking an arrow from the spilled bundle. The muscles in his back pull uncomfortably, arms trembling a little with the effort when Zevran aims at the last mage.

The arrow hits its target clearly.

The man stumbles with the force, a short scream caught between a shout of rage and pain.

He turns with a struggle, and from the distance he can see the pure hatred on his face. The arrow went through his back, pointed end shiny with blood of his heart. He opens his mouth, lips stained with crimson, pinkish light between his trembling hands and dread licks Zevran’s spine.

The mage’s eyes seem to glow unnaturally for a moment before his spell sputters and his body thuds to the ground.

Coughing wetly, drowning in red until he stills.

Slowly, Zevran gets closer to the curled body when he’s sure it won’t be moving anymore, the chatter of the rest of his men that are still alive muted when he looks at the fallen mage.

Cuts littering his skin, tip of his long ear gone in a bloody wound, long black hair tangled around pale face. Unseeing amber eyes half lidded, and he crouches down near him, reaching to brush his fingers on his neck.

To check, he tells himself.

A pity, really.

He wouldn't mind getting closer to this one when he was still alive, oddly beautiful in his death. He could go with another plan, more discreet. Meet them all in a tavern, start chatting around drinks, and spend the night with one of them. Seduce and kill after the fun.

But what’s done is done.

He shouldn’t be so sentimental about a stranger he just killed.

The skin under his touch is still warm but the heartbeat is gone. Zevran closes his eyes with a murmur under his breath and almost falls on his butt when something yanks at his wrist.

“You’re forgetting about something,” the iron grip on his arm pulls him forward, slurred words falling from the bloodied lips of a man that’s dead. There’s a noise in his head, louder with every thump of his heart as black-golden eyes stare through him when he trashes in the hold, desperate to get away.

The small blade he gets from his boot stills with rasped “Zevran,” the mage’s voice laced with something other. Red mist coils around him and-

✨

Vergil winces slightly when Zevran’s chin digs into his chest.

“‘course you’d say that.” He puffs his cheeks in a futile attempt of blowing a strand of golden hair from his face. Vergil reaches to tuck it away, fingers raking through his hair and Zevran’s eyes close for a moment, a content smile curling his lips.

Vergil’s low chuckle shakes him a little and one eye peers at him.

“It’s only fair to unleash last surprise on my killer. But,” Vergil runs his hand over the long hair of his lover sprawled on top of his naked body, squeezing briefly at his nape, stopping between his shoulder blades. “Thank you for not spilling my guts. I appreciate it, really.”

Zevran snorts a laugh at Vergil’s dry tone. “You wanted to know how I’d do the contract properly. I don’t play with targets,” he scrunches up his nose, “usually. And it’s not like I’ve met many mages who could do such a trick. Before.”

Vergil hums. “Any idea of assassins being after us hadn't even crossed my mind at the time. Leliana must’ve had such great fun with a bunch of blissfully unaware amateurs.”

“You admit it.” Zevran shifts, dragging his body up until he can brush his mouth under Vergil’s jaw. He tilts his head back, willingly exposing his throat to the gentle assault of hot, short kisses.

“Yes.”

The weight of Zevran’s body over him isn’t constricting, not with soft sheets and a mattress under him. Vergil runs his hands over Zevran’s back, hooking one leg over his hip. He digs his fingers on the small of his back when Zevran sucks at the skin over his pulse point. He arches up with a hiss, twisting his hand in Zevran’s hair, pulling slightly when he doesn’t let go immediately.

The sound of breathy “Ah” that escapes Zevran’s lips when he finally leans back goes straight to his groin. He smirks knowingly, rolling his hips, trapped between Vergil’s thighs.

“Again so fast?” He teases as they rock together, skin warm and sticky after last time. “It’s my narrative skill, isn’t it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Sit up,” Vergil murmurs between wet pecks to his lips. They rearrange their position, Vergil leaning back on a stack of pillows as he sits on the bed with loosely crossed legs, reaching for Zevran’s waist as he straddles his lap.

“Tell me about the tavern seduction plan.”

Zevran laughs with head fallen back and Vergil nuzzles his chest, feeling the vibration of his amusement under his cheek. Vergil tilts his head into the hold of hands on his jaw, fingers brushing the length of his ear. Gold eyes peer at him curiously as he lets his eyelids fall close under the carres on his eartip. A weak spot that’s thoughtfully exploited with a feather light touch that makes him shudder.

Vergil tightens his hold on Zevran’s back as he teasingly grinds on him.

“Lure you to some dark corner?” He sighs when Vergil’s palm closes over his cock, rubbing slowly. “Can’t imagine it being so hard,” he purrs around a smirk that twists into a soft moan upon goading strokes.

“Work on your insults better.” There’s a smile in Vergil’s voice and he goes easily up and down as Vergil guides him where he wants to. Zevran’s open in voicing his pleasure, sinking down on him.

They both indulge in shared pleasure, their bodies working unhurriedly towards blissful finish. Vergil’s usual silence shattered by soft pants leaving his mouth in between lazy kisses. “How did it go? Dangerous and exciting,” he whispers slightly out of breath, straight into Zevran’s ear. Feeling the muscles under his hands shiver.

“And beautiful.”

“Well thank you.”

Gasped laugh when he pushes up, raking blunt nails along the arch of tattooed back.

“Shameless.”

“You are.”

Zevran shifts and Vergil with him, unfolding his legs and Zevran leans back, hands splayed on his thighs as he chases his pleasure, Vergil watching him greedily. Prolonging his own, the tightening in his gut as he can see him being close.

He doesn’t stop him.

✨

Gentle chime of ice charms by the window fills the silence.

Vergil sits on the floor, clothes loose and comfortable in the late afternoon, refreshed after a quick bath. His hair’s pinned up, so he avoids overheating. Again.

The weather’s unmerciful here, the seaside helping little. His body really isn’t made to endure so much sun without extra cover and cooling balms.

Open notebook, few small vials of colorful liquids, strings of leather and clear gems are in an easy reach. Focused on pouring bits of his magic into the crystals, he doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings until there’s a presence at his side.

Zevran hands him a glass and he wordlessly takes a sip, humming at the taste of drink. Sweet with a hint of alcohol, pieces of yellowish fruit swimming in gold. He lets the cold seep into his hand, frost climbing the glass and tastes the drink again. Better.

“Mine too?” Zevran smiles. He forgo a shirt, loose pants clinging to his hips.

Vergil gives him his own glass, trading it for the one in Zevran’s palm and repeats the process. Lifting a brow when he drinks, alcohol stronger in this one. He prefers the watered down one.

“Give it back.”

Zevran’s grin widens. “Too much? I can trade for one magic touch.”

Cold hand brushes his forearm and Zevran almost spills his drink as he jerks, a gasp turned yelp when he stills him with a well aimed hold on his wrist, the squirm, as he wants to run away from the chill. He recognizes a few colorful words that Zevran mumbles under his breath, strands of hair that escaped his bun sticking to his temple.

A hint of teeth in his smile when he asks, “Better? Now, my glass.”

Zevran rolls his eyes and pushes it towards him, leaning back on the edge of bed. Swallowing a mouthful of his drink, lazily watching Vergil work for a moment. He closes his eyes with a content sigh. “Still want to hear about the second option?”

“Tavern?” Vergil looks up from the crystal, gently putting it down as he shifts. Resting arm over bent knee, fingers loosely holding the glass.

“I’d offer you a drink. Given you wouldn’t be suspicious.” Of a foreigner, goes unsaid.

“More like intrigued. What you’re wearing?” Molten gold peers at him, both relaxed and sharp.

“Same armor as we first met.”

“Leather skirt.”

Zevran tilts his head, smirk brightening his face at the sound of Vergil’s voice. “Easiest mark ever. Who’d have thought you’re so reckless?”

Vergil shrugs as he drinks. “It was a weird time and handsome strangers buying me drinks were scarce.”

“Going so willingly.” Zevran says with a tsk. “But, if I had a good time, I’d make it quick. No spilling guts as well.”

“During or after?”

“Mhmm... shortly after, most likely. Attention’s lowest.”

Vergil hums, holding his gaze as he licks his lips. Chasing the taste of the drink's sweetness. “I’d deserve it. Still would do it. Hadn’t stopped me before.”

The warmth of Zevran’s laugh washes over him. Relaxing.

“No it hadn’t. How long was it? Three weeks?”

“Two and you weren’t as subtle as you thought.”

Zevran splays a hand over his chest. “Oh shame on me for seducing a fair man. I’ve heard enough of it from Alistair.”

Vergil snorts. “I know, I’ve been there. Heard my share as well.” He stares at the liquid in his glass before he gulps everything in one go, head tilted back. “Wasn’t so bad.”

They’re silent for a while, the light chime of the charms echoing along the muted crash of waves.

“Another?” Zevran asks, reaching for Vergil’s glass as he gets up. He closes his fingers over his when he passes the glass, holding on for a moment.

“Yes.”

#WardenTxt #Vergil x Zevran #Vergil Surana #Zevran #Leliana #Zevran's telling a story #because Vergil asked him to and he likes to indulge him #the first part is the what-if fantasy that could happen easily if Zevran put his mind and heart to #if he still had his heart in one piece then #Vergil wouldn't be alive then #and I now I can easily picture this fic happening somewhere during Vergil's Antivan vacation #the ones where the food tried to kill him and some urchins wanted to rob him 🍹

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razrogue · 2 months

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Unusual OC Associations

Saw this when I was visiting a moot's page and thought it looked fun!

Gan

SEASONING: Ground coriander, sage leaves

WEATHER: Slightly breezy, mostly cloudy day

COLOR: Ruby red

SKY: The sky just before the sun sets fully

MAGICAL POWER: Invisibility

HOUSE PLANT: Aloe or Yucca

WEAPON: Dagger

SUBJECT: Biology and Botany

SOCIAL MEDIA: None

MAKEUP PRODUCT: Lipstick

CANDY: Sour gummies

FEAR: Being trapped with no way out

ICE CUBE SHAPE: Sphere

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVELING: Horse or carriage

ART STYLE: Post Impressionism

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: Pixie

PIECE OF STATIONERY: Wax seal stamp

EMOJIS: ✨🌹🫦

CELESTIAL BODY: Planet - Mercury

No obligation tagging: @bhaalbaaby @coldshrugs @griffinsanddragons @we-staybhaalin @phasebun @absansombre @20skai @blackmagickatt @mightymizora @meishuu @the-eldritch-it-gay @covenscribe @antivan-surana @rowanisawriter @grandmother-goblin @tragedybunny @hamethyst @commander-krios @eeldritchblast and anyone else who wants to do this!!!

#Ilina Gavren #Gan #BG3 tav #BG3 OC #BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #razmeta

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mitskijamie · 3 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/antivan-surana/729265596620013568?source=share

roy/jamie and keeley/rebecca

LMFAOOOOOO

#ask #royjamie #Rebeccakeeley

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thedragonagelesbian · 7 months

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@antivan-surana replied to your post “anyway rip to this line specifically that got cut...”:

but the line will live on spiritually in the text/subtext!

rest assured cyrus' sluttiness remains VERY explicitly textual

#antivan-surana #cyrus hawke #writing about cyrus' whole-hearted devotion and attention to his partners & eagerness to please them ain't much but it's honest work

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the-eldritch-it-gay · 3 months

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RULES: Post 5 songs associated with your OC, followed by 3 outfits they would wear

I was tagged by @omgkalyppso <3 <3 <3

Doing this for my beloved Majexatli

Songs:

Wolf // Saint Mesa

That Unwanted Animal // The Amazing Devil

Carrion Comfort // aeseaes

Unknown/Nth // Hozier

Full Moon // The Black Ghosts

Outfits:

I'm not sure if this counts, but I have a couple pinterest boards for insp for outfits for various OCs. For Majexatli, in their downtime I imagine they tend to wear a classic huipil and woven skirt. Like in the commissioned piece I got of them, I imagine they tend to lean towards blue and greens for the embroidery. And in place of a rebozo, I imagine they have some fur pelt.

(also while not pictured, for some downtime when they're on their own and the weather is warm they might just wear a maxtlatl [loincloth], but around people they're a little to self-conscious, especially with their scars)

For tagging people (no obligation and apologies if you've been tagged already, i got that Brain Fog): @thedragonagelesbian @antivan-surana @razrogue @eazzy--pink @isayashai @babeoffrontiers @hungerofhadarr @ghostwise and whomever else would like to do this for an OC :)

#eldritch it speaks #salam plays bg3 #oc: majexatli #every time I try to tag people I shake like a chihuahua

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dungeons-and-dragon-age · 5 months

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OC Questionnaire (Warden Edition)

got tagged by lovely @shivunin and @greypetrel! <33 Going with my Wardens for now cus this is gonna get long otherwise x'D (also stealing Mo's idea to do tarot cards instead of star signs cus i can never settle on birthdays lol) edit: here's the others!

tagging in turn @cao-the-dreamer,@herearedragons, @nebulouswinds, @nanowatzophina, @creativegoblin, @exantivancrow, @goofsoup, @wonderofthemoon, @a-drama-addict, @bearsizedant, @beelzebard, @feyfiendish, @curiouslavellan, @exotic-inquiry, and anyone else who'd like to join in! c:

NAME: Neira Surana

NICKNAME: .. none really xd

GENDER: Female (there are some cisn't feels there but it's never sth she explores or bothers with)

TAROT CARD: Queen of Cups

HEIGHT: Average elf height (i like to think she's a bit taller than June lol)

ORIENTATION: Aroace

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Fereldan Elf

FAVORITE FRUIT: Wild strawberries

FAVORITE SEASON: Late winter/ early spring

FAVORITE FLOWER: Daisies

FAVORITE SCENT: Wood smoke, old parchment, lyrium

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Tea! Specially herbal or mild floral ones

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Lol. lmao. (sleep is very inconsistent)

DOGS OR CATS: Dogs (she's allergic to cats

DREAM TRIP: Would love to travel the length of the Imperial Highway

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: 1-2

RANDOM FACT: Would love to say that there's an epic story for her scar, but it was just some random ass encounter with darkspawn where she wasnt careful and healed too slowly and sloppily

NAME: Kalagna Brosca

NICKNAME: Kala, Dwarf

GENDER: Female (?) (i doubt Dwarven gender works the same way as Human gender but rn female works well enough)

TAROT CARD: Five of Pentacles

HEIGHT: Tall-ish (still shorter than Neira though)

ORIENTATION: Alistair Demi (fr though Ali is the only person she's ever felt any sort of attraction for)

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Orzammarian Dwarf

FAVORITE FRUIT: Passionfruit or Apples

FAVORITE SEASON: Late autum/early winter

FAVORITE FLOWER: Sunflowers or magnolias

FAVORITE SCENT: Fresh nighttime air, magnolias (they're her fave in part cus of the smell lol), sulfur (smells like home)

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Hot choco

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: 7-ish? on slow days she likes to sleep in though

DOGS OR CATS: Dogs? No opinion really.

DREAM TRIP: Kal-Sharok

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: as many as are available

RANDOM FACT: She has tried to use Barksparn as a mount before. It did not work.

NAME: Var'Renan Mahariel

NICKNAME: Renan, Da'Renan

GENDER: unlabelled (only label he'd actively reject would be agender; they Do have gender(s), just not contained)

TAROT CARD: Five of Cups

HEIGHT: Tall! Def more than a head taller than Noya

ORIENTATION: Pan and demi

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: (Fereldan/Southern) Dalish

FAVORITE FRUIT: Cornelian cherries

FAVORITE SEASON: Spring

FAVORITE FLOWER: Wild garlic or foxglove

FAVORITE SCENT: Mint, petrichor, rotting wood

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Well spiced teas

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: 6-7 (they get antsy when they sleep longer)

DOGS OR CATS: Cats

DREAM TRIP: Antivan coast; would like to visit the Dales and the Emerald Graves sometimes as well

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: 1

RANDOM FACT: They can't whistle and is grumpy about it

NAME: Noya Tabris

NICKNAME: Tadpole, sprout (both mostly by Cyrion but sprout sometimes teasingly by others too)

GENDER: Female (uses she/they though)

TAROT CARD: Seven of Wands/ Queen of Wands

HEIGHT: Short mfer (around same height as Kala)

ORIENTATION: Panromantic Ace

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Fereldan (city) Elf

FAVORITE FRUIT: Green olives

FAVORITE SEASON: Summer

FAVORITE FLOWER: Snapdragon

FAVORITE SCENT: Fresh stew, petrol, hot dusty summer air

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Coffee

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: 8 pre-coscription; after more around 6

DOGS OR CATS: Dogs. She's always wanted a puppy...

DREAM TRIP: Seheron

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: preferably 2 but 1 will do

RANDOM FACT: Has no shame staring at people; does it a lot bc she likes drawing and also bodies are fascinating

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Blank meme:

NAME:

NICKNAME:

GENDER:

STAR SIGN:

HEIGHT:

ORIENTATION:

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY:

FAVORITE FRUIT:

FAVORITE SEASON:

FAVORITE FLOWER:

FAVORITE SCENT:

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE:

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:

DOGS OR CATS:

DREAM TRIP:

NUMBER OF BLANKETS:

RANDOM FACT:

#i dont have good recent drawings of most of them rip so i put a picrew and some (mostly) silly sketches <3 #no numbers for heights im afraid cus i suck at thinking up numbers and sizes are relative anyways #so i put the relative sizes instead xd #also i went for in-game nationalities cos it makes sense for them #and also cos when it comes to irl approximations i dont have set ethnicities for most of them #however most of them are mixed south asian and/or swana in some way #because these are my blorbos and i can be as self indulgent as i want <3 #oc tag game #my ocs #oc: neira surana #oc: kalagna brosca #oc: noya tabris #oc: var'renan mahariel #might do the others later who knows! xd

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