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rma1031 · 1 year

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Hermit Age: Pearl

Hello! This post will be regarding my interpretation of Pearl for my AU, Hermit Age! This AU is essentially putting the Hermits and their friends within the world and universe of the Dragon Age series and giving them flavor to fit in!

If you want to check out the plans I have for this AU, check it out here!

I've also made my interpretations for Impulse, Gem, and Skizz, check them out if you want to!

CW for descriptions of fantastic racism as well as mentions of purging. This interpretation's another long one just like with Skizz's.

Appearance

Pearl within the world of Dragon Age cannot exactly be wearing her hoodie jacket so of course the only thing I can retain most is her hair color and eye color.

(from this picrew)

As you can see, even though she is elf-blooded, she remains physically human. In the Dragon Age universe, those that are elf-blooded are human still and will not have any elven traits. She doesn't have the pointy ears elves have.

Pearl is slightly taller than the average human woman. She would also wear some form of armor (like the above) that is free and loose but still can be great to defend with. Her hair is loose and long and I tried my best to base it off of her MC skin. Also her color code can be integrated as well with her Dragon Age self.

Origins and History

Pearl came from the Free Marches, in the city-state of Ansburg, located nearby Antiva. The city is a center of agricultural trade and farmers thrive there, but it is also quiet and serene.

She was born from her elven mother and her human father, making her elf-blooded, which can make her discriminated by both sides. For most humans, she is as much an elf as another elf, which makes her perceived as inferior. For some elves, she is perceived as "flat-eared" (which can be considered derogatory and insulting if connotated negatively).

By fortune, she didn't live in the alienage and spent her time in a comfortable, if not cramped, home with her father. Her mother was nowhere to be seen throughout her life in Ansburg, except that she gave her a trinket in the form of an amulet, a wood-carved halla.

Despite it all, from the uneasy looks to the hurled insults, she carries pride from both races, even if her father wishes to keep her quiet about it. She'd proclaim her pride for her elven heritage at the great expense of her social advantages as a human.

Soon enough her simple life would vanish. One fateful day while playing and helping her father, magic came forth from her palms, freezing a solitary patch of flowers solid and crumbling easily. Her father, horrified, soon got the attention of the Ansburg Chantry and soon her life outside would disappear.

As the Templars took her to the Ansburg Circle, she only had one thing with her, the halla amulet.

A new life came to be for Pearl, as she now will be living in the Circle for most of her life, learning, training, and controlling her magic.

Even in the Circle, she'd still be discriminated for her elf-blooded status. She'd get called "half-elf" or "half-blood", mostly from the more arrogant mages and the ignorant templars, but she stood her ground and fought proud for herself and her heritage, keeping her amulet close.

She would go through her Harrowing and succeed. She made friends with the other mages and even got the respect and friendship of a few templars. She'd continue to defend herself from those who belittle and insult her. She would excel and become an Enchanter herself, teaching mages and apprentices how to use Entropy and Creation magics.

Altogether she loved this quiet but busy life within the Circle, the outside still beckoned to her.

Nearing her twentieth year inside the Circle, chaos erupts. News arrived to the Circle from Kirkwall, explaining the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry and the eruption of conflict that would culminate to the Mage-Templar War.

The mages within the Ansburg Circle feared for their lives. Pearl feared for her life as well. The chaos outside would have definitely caused the other circles to call for the Right of Annulment to quell the conflict. The fears of the mages were warranted though, as the Templars got the call of the Ansburg Chantry to annul and purge the Circle.

The First Enchanter protested against the Knight-Commander's wishes and soon the Circle went through an upheaval. Mages and templars fight each other as one tries to overcome the other. Pearl didn't want to go through this but she wanted to survive. She needed to survive.

As she looked at her fellow mages and former friends dying around her, she knew she had to get past this as soon as possible and get free. She fought valiantly through the crowd, evading the templars and fighting them if needed.

As soon as she knew it, she escaped. She was now an apostate, like all the mages now.

Pearl needed to hide. She can't attract attention at all lest she get called out by the people or the templars.

And so she hid for a while, remaining in her own solitude, until it ended when she met Impulse, Gem, Skizz, and their friends.

Name

Pearl is the name given by her father, a reminder of her mother that left. She never blamed her for leaving, elves are discriminated all about in the land.

Pearl would also gain a nickname given to her by her few friends when she was young, "Satina", after one of the two moons of Thedas. Her eyes remind them of Satina for the moonlight that glimmers and pierces through the night sky.

She would prefer to be called Pearl though and makes use of Satina whenever she doesn't want the attention of people.

Personality

Pearl is a playful, enthusiastic and gleeful mage, looking to make fun and make ruckus with her friends and companions, from a quick joke to a hilarious prank, she'll make do to play with her companions. She is friendly yet cautious. Given her life as a mage, she wouldn't want to get the attention of anyone else and so she keeps her distance somewhat from others. Nonetheless she is nice and caring to her companions.

Cautiousness also tends to make her mistrustful and doubtful of others, giving her a defensive and guarded personality, attributed by her life as a mage and her elf-blooded status.

Equipment and Combat

As a mage, she would wear light armor in the form of the vestments above, fit for travels and adventures. She would also have her staff to cast spells and attack enemies and support allies with. She would flourish it with ease after many years of magic training.

As the mage of the group, she has an arsenal of spells to help the party. She specializes in Entropy and Creation magic, making her a controller-debilitator and support mage. She excels at controlling the battlefield and making enemies suffer through paralysis and weakness, sleep, hexes and draining spells. She also does greatly at helping her party through healing magic, enhancements, glyphs, and summoning spells.

Being that she is a mage, she stays away from the frontlines and helps her companions farther away. She could conjure up an enhancement spell and improve the capabilities of Impulse and Skizz with their damage or make Gem faster through Haste.

She is a force to be reckoned with, which also makes her a big target. Her talents and capabilities as a spellcaster makes her quickly the focus of opponents, causing her to stray further away from her friends lest she gets caught by her enemies. She also isn't proficient with melee combat and will suffer injuries and damages if ever fighting as such. She would always need to be under the watchful eye of Skizz in the fight, the tank of the party.

That's it for my interpretation of Pearl!

I may do more interpretations in the future, which can be found here! As for now, I want to formulate and create a fic for these four friends within the world of Thedas, who knows what can happen?

And as always, do check the wiki, it will help bridge the gap you need to understand this AU!

#rma posts #mcyt #hermitcraft #traffic smp #life series #empires smp #dragon age #hermit age au #pearlescentmoon

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ell-vellan · 1 year

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Ellawyn Enansalla Lavallen

(portrait by @ib-gomes, balcony art by @oxygenforthewicked-art )

An overview of my Lavellan, a continuation of my "elfy" worldstate

Ellawyn grew up surrounded by love and simple joys, the only child of doting parents, she had close relationships in Clan Lavallen. She was a quiet, gentle, and obedient child, and loved nothing more than halla -- spending so much time at their pen to the point the halla-keeper was happy to take her under her wing as a future apprentice even at a young age.

Then, one winter at age 11, she was sent to recover a lost halla in the woods and was captured by a runaway templar. Alone, terrorized, and certain she was bound for a slaver's ship, she summoned lightning for the first time and burnt her would-be kidnapper to ash. After rescuing herself, the lost halla appeared to take her home.

For this, she earned the second name Enansalla, halla-blessed. It is the name her keeper calls her, and no one else.

Everything changed after that. As the only mage child born in the clan, she was immediately declared the First, and began leadership and magic training with her keeper. With her magic obviously tied to outbursts of emotion, she was kept somewhat apart from the rest of the clan until she was safe to be around them; her keeper drilled into her stringent lessons on self-control so as to avoid misfiring her magic. She was set apart from her friends, and from then on had difficulty fitting in with the clan as she did before, everyone knowing who she would one day grow to be. The weight of responsibility settled heavily onto her shoulders, but she bore it with the self-sacrifice her keeper advised her was needed to be a leader of the People.

When she came of age she chose Ghilan'nain's vallaslin, believing the halla that appeared at the same time as her magic was a sign that she had been set down this path, and she would walk it willingly, even when it veered away from where she would rather go.

Young, untrained, tightly wound, diplomatic to a fault, full of self-doubt and a crushing need to do enough, be enough, she is utterly out of her depth in the human world. When she is declared Herald, she accepts the role as an inevitable sacrifice on the journey she was chosen to take. She grows to detest the song and dance she must perform as Inquisitor, bending to nobles who almost certainly committed acts of violence against her people, but still gives no complaint and allows the pressure of the role to beat her down until there is almost nothing left but the figurehead. In giving more and more of herself to the saving of the world, she loses more and more of herself.

Whenever and wherever she can, she helps the common people in need, but does not shy away from the pride of where she comes from -- emblazoning Skyhold with Dalish heraldry so that no one may forget that the "chosen" of Andraste is both elven and a mage.

As a knight-enchanter she becomes reckless in battle, throwing herself into harm's way, desperately seeking some kind of relief from the stress of her day to day -- to the point she narrowly avoids death again and again and ignores proper care of her wounds.

She sides with the mages, and whenever possible, follows her heart to find just punishment for the war criminals she captures, typically some third alternative to death or imprisonment. She never invokes the Rite of Tranquility.

El maintains a strictly professional relationship with everyone in the Inquisition, taking her role as leader and demi-god seriously and performs that untouchable facade those under her command. She allows no elves to be her servants, and goes out of her way to use her power and resources to help every elf she can.

Even her inner circle are but coworkers; she shares her doubts and true inner self with no one, performing a display of otherworldly strength that she does not possess in order to appear the leader she believes the world needs her to be.

She, literally and figuratively, never takes her hair down except when alone. She works herself half to death in a sort of sacrificial clinging to duty, to fulfill her purpose. To protect her people and make them proud.

She becomes friendly with Solas and Dorian, both of whom help expand her knowledge and skill over her own magic. But is sorely lacking of anyone who can relate or understand the toll it takes to constantly play a role -- until Iron Bull.

She shares a kiss with Solas in the Fade, momentarily believing their friendship and camaraderie of being the only two elves in the Inquisition meant more than friendship. But when Solas gently tells her later it was a mistake, she is embarrassed and ashamed, and quickly agrees to their relationship being strictly platonic. She continues to care about him, admire and respect him. Her crush fades until she thinks perhaps it was not a crush at all, simply loneliness. Certain later events make her suspicious of where he came from, and if he is truly trustworthy, but she allows him to dissuade her by drawing on their shared identity and past affection.

El reunites Briala and Celene, though she trusts neither -- but Gaspard even less.

She will try to save Solas from himself, but is prepared to kill him if need be. Even if it will haunt her forever.

She believes herself to be too soft-hearted to be a good leader, and begins to question everything after Here Lies the Abyss -- that perhaps nothing in her life has been pre-ordained by any gods at all, and what she thought was a divine commandment to sacrifice herself for the good of the world was truly just...a collection of random unlucky events. It upends her worldview and sends her into a tailspin.

The Iron Bull is perhaps the least likely person in the world for her to fall in love with. But she does, quietly, secretly, from afar. She sees the innate self-sacrificing goodness beneath the vulgarity and bluster, and admires his courage, strength, and confidence, all of which she believes herself to lack. But he -- and his reputation -- are far too intimidating for El, who has never had time for any sort of relationship, and too busy, and is wound much too tightly to ever relax enough for one. Or so she tells herself. They are complete opposites, after all. Quiet to his loud, knowing little of the world compared to his vast experience.

But Iron Bull sees much even with his one eye, and realizes when perhaps no one else does that El is going to break under the strain unless someone intervenes.

He, of course, volunteers.

Anyway I've written nearly 200k of hurt/comfort character study smut about Ellawyn and Bull, and the way their very different stories converge, so I'll leave it here.

Art thanks to @thegoblinwitchqueen !!

#my ocs #ellawyn lavellan

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dragon-age-codex-entries · 5 months

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Codex entry: Halla

"The first thing you must understand about the halla is that they are not our servants. They are not our pets. They are our brothers and sisters. Remember that Ghilan'nain, the first halla and mother of them all, was once a huntress of the People. Without the halla, there would be no Dalish.

The second thing you must understand about the halla is that you cannot force a halla to do something against her will. I have heard tales of shemlen who come across herds and attempt to capture the halla, using ropes and bridles. Many shemlen have died impaled on horns as a result of this foolishness. Never forget that the halla once bore our knights into battle. The fierce blood of a warrior still runs through her veins and she would sooner fight to the death than demean herself. Like the Dalish, the halla are proud. A halla knows who she is, and will tolerate no being that tells her she is less.

How then do we harness them to the aravels? How do we ride them, or strap our packs to them? Well, how do you get a brother, a sister, or a friend to do you a favor? Simple, isn't it? You ask. If you have a halla's trust, she will give you her blessing. It's striking that humans never think to ask for a halla's friendship. But then, they are shems, and respect nothing."

—Adara, halla-tender of the Ralaferin clan, to her apprentice

#dragon age #codex entry #creatures #dalish elves

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lost-in-thedas · 8 months

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Clan: Varevas, Lavellan

Age: 25 years old

MBTI: INFP

Gender: Non-binary

Pronouns: He/ She/ Them

Orientation: Pan - Asexual.

Bio:

Adahleni was born among the Varevas clan, in the deep forests of the Free Marches. Brimming with imagination and creativity, they developed a passion for crafts from an early age, and rarely left their hands free.

As soon as they were old enough to hold a small knife, Adahleni began to carve their first figurines, featuring the animals of the forest, such as bears, crows, or even Hallas. They also learned to sew, and enjoyed painting all sorts of things on pebbles.

At the age of 11, Adahleni’s life took another turn when their magic broke out for the first time. Varevas clan was used to deal with young mages, for they already counted many mages to their ranks. Too much, in fact.

Keeper already having a First and enough apprentices, the decision was taken to send some of the younger Mages to others Dalish clans, who, at the opposite, didn’t counted enough Magi among their peers.

That same year, Adahleni was sent to the Lavellan clan, to become the apprentice of the clan's Keeper, Deshenna.

Their integration among this new clan was… difficult. In contrast to the clan Varevas, Adahleni was the only child to be a Mage, and while their introverted temperament had never caused them any trouble before, most of the others kids were wary of them.

Although understanding of the reasons, Adahleni resented their family and their people for sending them so far away, yet, they also missed them even more.

Deshenna Keeper, however, was kind, and patient. Treating Adahleni as if they were her own child.

Seeing that Adahleni was having trouble fitting in, she asked another kid, Athrahel, to help them integrating among the clan.

Athrahel recently lost his mother due to an attack of dark spawns few months ago, and like Adahleni, he was quiet introverted.

Athrahel was a curious kid who loved to read, with as much imagination as Adahleni, and eventually, the two became friends.

As Keeper Deshenna had no others apprentices than Adahleni, their future place as a First was almost guaranteed from the moment they joined the Lavellan.

However, only at the age of 16, after mastering their magic good enough, they were officially named as First. For the occasion, Adahleni was granted their Vallaslin, choosing to honor June, the God of Crafts.

Alternative story

YAs rumors of a war between mages and Templars spread to the four corners of Thedas, Deshenna decided to send a clan member to spy on the conclave, for "what happens there", she said, "might affect not only the Dalish but all the Elves". And for this mission, what better candidate than her own apprentice? Adahleni, now 25 years old, disagreed. They, who had only ever lived with the Dalish, had no idea how to deal with the shemlens. Athrahel would be a much better spy, he who, now a top-notch hunter, already set foot in alienages to trade materials. Yet Deshenna was sure of her decision. However, she at least allowed Athrahel to accompany Adahleni to Darse.

And yet, no one could’ve prepared Adahleni for what was to come.

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vhenann · 1 year

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little tidbits from the d.alish origin that i love for evren

she was supposed to be helping master ilen (they call him varathorn in the dialogue but that's the name of the master in the brecilian clan so i'm assuming they meant ilen) and i've always headcanoned her as being an amazing craftsman and being in talks to be ilen's apprentice

the halla love her

ashalle sat outside the keeper's aravel the whole time evren was unconscious

#got me crying in the club #01. ↣『 ooc 』

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siennadraws · 2 years

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Thinking about Terys' Clan adapting to life in Wycome.

I don't think they'd abandon their gift economy. Of course, they'd trade with the others in money when needed, but Clan Lavellan prefers to share when they can, and the rest of the city learns to give back.

They continue to depend on the meat and fish the hunters bring home, and meals are still made in communion, to eat alongside each other. But this time, some outsiders to the Clan come along, helping where they can.

The Hallakeeper goes with the Halla to graze. Her apprentice and others also go along, bringing back the berries and nuts they gathered.

The Clan life continues to be largely spent in community, working together, as they did before. Children are raised by the whole Clan, and doors are always open for guests. City elves start sending their children to learn with the Clan about their language and culture when they go to work, and sometimes even the adults join in.

The aravels remain, of course, and on the hotter nights the Dalish sleep in them. The houses have paintings of them on the walls outside, to remember what Home is.

On Fridays and Saturdays nights, the square is filled with music and the glow of candles.

#clan lavellan #siennatalks

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ramblinganthropologist · 7 months

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Writober 2023 3 Paths

Summary: Kaaras is... well, he's a failure. He's failed out of every apprenticeship the clan has set to him. He thought he was ok with halla tending, but fate has other plans.

Be careful what you wish for, Kaaras... you might get something you don't expect.

---

Another day, another bucket of hay. Such was the life of an apprentice halla keeper.

“Da’len, could you feed them for me? I have to keep an eye on the doe about to give birth.” His grandmother called to him from across the field as he got down there that morning, already reaching for his bucket. From where Kaaras stood, he could see where the clan’s halla were resting. It was easy to pick them out – the antlers of the bucks, the does with their fawns, the yearlings with their budding racks.

It was peaceful. And it was something he could do without messing up.

“Can do!” He grabbed his bucket, filling it with hay. Technically, the halla ate grass – hay was just an addition. It was mostly so he could get close and check for any injuries or illness. At least, that’s what he had been taught when he’d started training to be a halla tender six months prior to that morning.

It was the longest he had apprenticed anywhere in the clan – talk about a good sign this one was going to stick.

A light breeze blew across the field as Kaaras entered into where the halla were resting. Some of the yearlings approached him, sniffing at his bucket and begging for some. He chuckled, patting one on the head, and started to hand it out.

“Here you go. Don’t worry, there’s enough for everyone.” He glanced down – the one his grandmother told him to watch was walking just fine. “Looks like your leg healed up with that poultice. Good to see, I was worried about you.”

He patted the fawn on the head, smiling at the touch and when the young halla leaned into it. All things considered, he liked being with the halla. They didn’t mind he was odd, and they licked his hand when he gave them treats. It was a quiet peace, far from his past failures and a clan that was no doubt disappointed in them.

At least he would make a good halla tender – they would have to keep him around for that, right? Everyone needed the halla…

Kaaras frowned as the familiar anxiety started to bubble up. At 16, he should’ve been almost ready to finish his training and receive his vallaslin from his aunt and uncle. Instead, he was on yet another round of training, years away from when he would be ready.

If not for the fact his grandmother believed in him, he wouldn’t know what he would’ve done.

“At least you guys like me.” He smiled sadly as he moved away from the yearlings in order to feed the adults. “Alright, who wants some…”

He trailed off. It was hard to miss the lead buck was staring at him, ears back and eyes narrowed. The buck’s hooves dug into the earth, and then before he realized what was going on, he started to charge with antlers lowered.

“Shit!”

Kaaras dropped the bucket and turned on his heel as he broke out into an all out sprint. Scenery passed as he all but ran for his life, trying to avoid getting gored by the antlers of the clan’s best halla. He didn’t even pause to look back – he could hear the running and snorting.

Lucky for him, there was a tree. Now, he wasn’t a hunter – that had been the first training he had failed out of in his younger years – but he could climb a tree as well as any other member of the clan. With antlers at his back, he jumped into the tree and climbed into a high branch, far above where any halla could reach. The tree shook as the buck collided, then backed up. If halla could glare, that would be a death stare for the ages.

“Kaaras, what’s going on?”

His grandmother’s voice carried over the din. Kaaras got to watch as the old woman approached, practically parting the wall of halla. Without a tinge of fear, she made her way to the lead buck and reached up to stroke its head.

“Steady now, Fen. What’s gotten into you, you’ve never chased after anyone like that before.”

She glanced up. “I know you’re not the type to tease the halla, so what happened, da’len?”

Kaaras slowly made his way down the tree, touching down with a shaky step. As soon as he was down, the buck looked ready to charge again. If not for his grandmother’s steady hand, he would’ve been gored for sure.

“I don’t know. He was acting normal until I came to check the does.”

His grandmother didn’t respond at first, just guided the halla to a part of the field where it would take some speed to catch up. Once Kaaras was out of sight, it calmed down and retuned to the does and the fallen bucket. It was like nothing had happened.

Hell, he wouldn’t have believed it himself if not for the leaves in his hair and the pounding of his heart.

When the old woman returned, she gave him a once over. Kaaras found himself standing ramrod straight, drawing himself to his full height for once. He had two heads on his grandmother, and he was still growing. No doubt he would hit 6 feet easily, but the 7 foot of his mother’s side of the family was probably beyond him.

Not that he was complaining – it was hard enough to get clothes as it was.

“Da’len, your horns are coming in nicely.”

It should’ve been a compliment – his horns were finally starting to take shape and curve in the familiar ram’s shape his mother bore. Instead, it came off as an explanation of just what the hell was going on.

His jaw dropped. “You gotta be kidding me, he chased me because I have horns?”

Weren’t halla supposed to be smarter than that? His horns didn’t look anything like halla antlers…

“He probably thought you were a competitor for the does.” His grandmother shook her head. “I’d try it again, but I’m afraid he’d hurt you…”

She trailed off. “I think we’re going to have to find you another training, da’len. You’re not safe around the bucks anymore.”

Kaaras’ heart fell into his soles. “But… there’s nothing else for me to do. I’ve failed out of every other training…”

Hunting, crafting, guarding… everything he tried, he failed. One door after another shut in his face as another path to his future with the clan went dark. Being a halla tender had been one of his last chances, and one of the few he had seemed good at.

And now because of something he couldn’t control, another door closed.

His grandmother sighed as she patted his elbow. “We’ll figure something out. I’m going to talk to Revas and see what we could set you up with. You just head back to the aravel and try to avoid catching the eye of any bucks.”

Sure… no problem.

Shoulders sagged, Kaaras nodded and left the halla pen. Slowly, he returned to where most of the clan would be if not for their jobs. It was just him, the children, and people who had jobs close to the camp. None of them paid him any mind as he trudged towards his family’s aravel, head low and problematic horns tucked low.

“Creators, you look miserable. Did you step in halla shit or something?”

A squeaky voice made the teen cringe as he glanced up. Much to his distaste, his younger brother was situated outside the aravel, reading from an old scroll. Akri was apparently doing his studying from home today.

Lucky him – just the person he wanted to see after failing another course.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Akri.” He sighed as he climbed into the aravel and fell face down onto his bedroll. At some point, a light weight settled onto his back feet first. “Hello, Jackel.”

His cousin settled onto his back like a cat. The weight was comforting, and for a moment he could forget that he was an utter failure again. Unfortunately for him, he felt the weight in the aravel shift as his brother entered, settling on the floor.

“Shouldn’t you be feeding the halla or something right now?” The boy chuckled. “I can’t imagine you could fail out of that…”

When Kaaras didn’t answer, he continued. “Wait… you gotta be kidding me. You failed out of halla training? How the hell did you manage that, did you kill one or something?”

He lifted up just enough to shoot a glare. “I don’t want to talk about it, Akri.”

“Man, I can’t believe you failed out of another path.” Akri chuckled again. “That’s got to be a record. I think you’ve failed out of every apprenticeship there is.”

He had, actually, thanks for the reminder.

Kaaras’ glare darkened as he sat up - Jackel shifted to sit on his shoulders. “It wasn’t my fault this time!”

“Like it wasn’t your fault when you failed out of crafting because you couldn’t see what you were doing.” The boy snickered. “What happened this time, did the does try to mate with you and you got flustered?”

Anger bubbled in Kaaras’ stomach as he grit his teeth. “The buck thought I was competition and chased me out of the pen. Apparently it thinks I’m trying to steal his does.”

In reflection, it was a mistake to tell Akri what happened. That only made the boy laugh harder, to the point tears were streaming down his face. That was all Kaaras could handle – he got up and sprinted from the aravel, inadvertently taking Jackel with him.

He wound up in the woods, bubbling with humiliation and rage. Failing out was bad enough – getting laughed at by his genius brother was another thing. Unlike him, Akri had his path – he was going to be the Keeper one day.

He had a future. Kaaras just had misery.

“Oh, come on, bro, lighten up!” Akri’s voice carried through as he reached the clearing. “It’s not like it’s the first time you failed out of training, I’m sure we can post you to tending the fire or something. Even you couldn’t fuck that up.”

He was still chuckling, as if this was all some great joke. Kaaras’ fist tightened at his side as he grit his teeth tighter. Right then, he wanted to throttle the boy – but what good would that do? He would just get in trouble for hurting him. Then he would have to apologize.

He’d rather die than apologize to Akri.

“Anyway, don’t be so sensitive. Unless you want to knock your horns off, that’s just something you can’t do.” He reached out to pat Kaaras on the shoulder. “You should be used to that by now, you’re practically famous for it.”

Famous for being a failure…

His fist clenched tighter. Everything felt hot. His heart pounded in his ears as he shoved Akri’s hand away. In that moment, he smelled ozone, and then there was a flash of light that knocked him flat on his ass.

Pain coursed from his palm as he held it tight, wincing. Across the clearing, Akri was flat on his back, holding onto his arm for dear life and groaning. Up above, someone was screaming for help in a squeaky voice, calling for their mamae and ada.

Was that Jackel? Jackel didn’t scream…

There was rushing footsteps, and soon his uncle Samhl was propping him up. Across the field, his aunt Revas was helping Akri to his feet, checking his arm. It looked as though he had been burned – streaks of purple traveled towards his shoulder, pulsing with light.

The pulsing matched the pain in his hand. His palm was also burned purple.

“Akri, what happened?” He heard his aunt asking his brother as the blood pounded in his ears. “Did you try to use magic on your brother and it backfired?”

Akri shook his head. “No! I was just messing with him because he failed, and then there was a flash of light…”

“There’s gotta be Vints in the area, they hurt Kaas and Akri!” Jackel screamed from the tree, in near hysterics and far too high for anyone to get down. “We gotta find them before they hurt someone else!”

But he hadn’t seen any Vints… they were too far for that. And if Akri hadn’t done it…

Kaaras glanced down blankly at his burned palm. Logically, if his brother hadn’t done it… but there was no other logical answer. After all, he couldn’t do magic. It was the first path that had closed to him when he had started training.

He… couldn’t do magic, right?

“Kaaras, let me see your hand.” His uncle’s voice brought him to reality. Kaaras stuck out his aching hand, wincing when Samhl prodded it with a finger. “You’ve got caster’s burn. It happens with new mages.”

The man glanced over at his wife. “It looks like he’s a mage after all.”

The world stopped spinning in that moment. Kaaras couldn’t feel his heart beating – it was like he was dead on his feet. All he could do was look down at his injured palm, and then at the matching burns on Akri’s arm.

It couldn’t be… he was too old for that.

Revas sighed as she started to lead her apprentice away for healing. “I’m going to go find someone to get Jackel out of the tree. You stay with Kaaras… we’ll have to find someone to train him once everything is squared away.”

Training.

The dull realization came to him slowly as his uncle tended to his palm. A new path, one he had never wanted to begin with, was open to him now. Yet all he wanted to do was run away and never face it again.

After all… he couldn’t be a mage. He just… had an accident was all. Maybe later it would all make sense and he could go back to dreading his future for a completely different reason. Anything was better than this.

He supposed he should’ve been more careful about what he wished for…

#writober 2023 #ramblinganthropologist's writing #Kaaras Adaar #Akri Adaar #Jackel Lavellan #and ft. Jackel's parents

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linaisbluepancake · 2 years

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I’m sorry but your Nadia and Halla art gives me life

I love the wives

#my art #apprentice halla #countess nadia

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andrastesflamingknickers · 11 months

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Atop This Mountain; A Hero Is Born (4/4)

The Inquisition of Old

Obligatory AO3 Link

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It was just at the break of dawn, as the first rays of the morning sun crested over the horizon, that Cian rose from his seat on the edge of Athim’s aravel, his knives sharpened, a bow sat beside him, the quiver now full of arrows. Ready to hunt, to bring back whatever game the Green Dales would provide. Other hunters lingered around the camp, some perched atop other aravels, others on vantage points surrounding the camp, bows ready and eyes searching for any sign of danger. They had only just arrived but a day ago, and the clans safety was still uncertain.

Others of the clan were moving about. The hunters and warriors had been awake for an hour, but the rest of the clan rarely woke before dawn. Mothers lulled their children to wake, though a few of the younger ones were already running around, enacting the battles the hahren told them each night by the fire, of Emerald Knights and Arcane Warriors, fighting to keep the people safe. Some of the older members were, sluggish as one was in the morning, getting ready to work, some going over supplies to find out what they had, and what they would need the hunters to gather.

He caught pieces of dirty jokes over pairs who seemed to have been getting closer, of arguments over stolen blankets, or complaints of misplaced tools needed to repair a loose wheel.

Sitting by one of the fires was Athim, sitting on an old stump and nursing a warm drink in her hands as she watched the tendrils of flame dance. Their Keeper was off to the side, conversing with her First; a young, scrappy girl no older than twelve, her face clean of any blood writing. She’d come to the clan only a year ago, sent from Avenus after her magic began to manifest. She was nice enough, and had had become a part of the clan so seamlessly that one would have thought she was born there. She listened to and took in everything Deshanna said like a sponge soaked in water.

A few of the hunters were gathered around Sulvin’s table, replacing dulled hunting knives with something sharper, or a new bowstring for their bows before they left.

The aravel creaked behind him, and hands landed on his shoulder, pressing down, “Good morning, Cian!” Renan greeted loudly as she stood where he had just been seated, leaning her weight on him, stretched out in the air. She laughed as she did so, giddy, melodical.

Cian grinned, and moved just slow enough that she could detached from him and not fall from the aravel. “Aneth ara,” he greeted in return, watching as his friends long, brown hair flowed in the gentle air. His grin turned crooked, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing all the way here? Shouldn’t you be helping Vianna with the halla, or has she still have you banned from feeding them?”

“Psh! It was one time!” the woman complained with a pout. “It’s not like the herd is as large as it was, either, not since we gave half our halla to clan Sabrae, harder to make that mistake again with fewer halla to keep track of.”

He raised a brow, “That doesn’t sound like something the Halla Keeper’s apprentice should be saying.”

She just rolled her eyes before reaching into her satchel, moments later she was tossing him an apple. “I’ll be going back to help her in a bit, I just wanted to check up on you before you set out. You probably haven’t even eaten anything yet—and you know that’s just asking for a poor hunt if you’re distracted by hunger.”

“It makes for a better hunt,” Cian countered, but he took a gracious bite from the fruit regardless and watched the clan. He spotted a younger elf lingering by a warrior, watching with longing, and nodded in his direction. “Fenvas is still getting his vallaslin tonight, right?”

“As far as I know, haven’t heard anything about it being pushed back,” Renan agreed as she followed his gaze. “He’ll make a good addition to the warriors, he’s already bigger than most them.”

“Size isn’t everything.”

“Of course the pipsqueak would say that!”

Cian shoved her, but it only made Renan burst into laughter. As annoying as the remark was, he couldn’t help but offer a slight grin as well. It was hard to stay mad at her.

The laughter slowly stilled as Keeper Deshanna approached, her aged face full of warmth, a gentle smile on her face as she watched him. “Garas quenathra, Cian?” she asked kindly, her arms folded together into her sleeves, and Cian felt his own smile falter.

“I—I’m sorry?” he asked. Why was he here? That made no sense, where else would he have been. “Sorry, Keeper, I don’t quite understand.”

Her smile widened; flickers of green started to brush against the blue sky. “You’ve done your clan proud, da’len,” Deshanna said as she reached out to rest her hand on his arm. “You saved us. You saved everyone, and we could not be prouder of you. Have no regrets, Cian, and let your spirit rest.”

The rest of the clan had stopped conversing, stopped working. Hundreds of eyes fell on him as their faces blurred and merged. Only the Keeper and Renan remained beside him, remained themselves.

Renan smiled, soft and sad, and held her hands out. In one was an elegantly carved oak staff. The other held a cedar branch. She carefully placed them both into his unwilling hands. “Ma serannas, Cian, for being my friend. Falon’Din mala ghilana mir din’an.”

He tried to drop them, but couldn’t, his fingers frozen around the wood. “Renan, Keeper, I’m—I’m not dead,” he tried to plead, but a look at his own arms and—and he was translucent. There, but not. A ghost.

Cian reached for them again, only to slip and fall to the ground, into the ground. A hole—a grave.

“Falon’Din enasal enaste,” Keeper Deshanna recited as she raised her hand, tracing symbols in the air over him as faceless elves shoveled dirt onto Cian. “Sleep, now, da’len, and may the Dread Wolf never find your trail.”

Cian woke with a start, panting for breath as he sat up. His chest was heaving, and his clothes damp with sweat. It was just a dream, he told himself, though the panic did not subside. A dream, and nothing more. He was here, he was alive.

He was alive.

How was he even still alive?

Still heaving for breath, Cian slowly looked around. The room was warm, a fireplace on one wall carried a small, flickering fire. The smells of the room were foreign, but the pain was familiar—and everywhere.

Not just his hand or arm. His whole body ached.

But it wasn’t as sharp, it wasn’t as burning or disorientating as it had been. It was something tolerable. He… he could live with that. The pain didn’t make him wish for death, at least, so that was something.

Letting his eyes adjust, he slowly looked around his surroundings. He was clearly not with his clan, not anywhere Dalish. A human settlement, maybe? An alienage—no, it looked too nice and to be an alienage house. It certainly wasn’t the prison cell he had first woken to. He was even on a bed. Talk about an upgrade! It was a rather cozy little home abode, by the looks of it. An old desk sat in a corner with papers and ink, a box for belongings, a coat draped over a hook on the wall. There were books and rugs, and everything of warm colors.

He was rather… surprised, to put it mildly, that this was where he woke up to. There weren’t even ropes or chains to keep him from leaving. Cian was still a prisoner… right?

Running a hand through his hair, he looked up at the sound of scuffling on the wood, and caught sight of a young elf, maybe thirteen at best, coming in through the door. The only door, as far as Cian could tell. The girl was humming a tune, and carried a box that, while sizable, didn’t look particularly heavy.

That same box crashed to the floor, followed by the sound of glass shattering within, when the girl looked up and saw Cian, letting out a loud, startled cry as she backed away. Absolutely terrified. Cian wasn’t sure what the girl had been told of him to cause such a reaction.

“O-oh, I, my apologies!” the girl said, her voice carried an accent Cian didn’t recognize. She looked as frightened as a mouse, ready to flee, wanting to flee. “I didn’t know you were awake; I swear!”

Cian shifted on the bed, he pushed the blankets aside, grateful he was dressed in something, even if it was not the clothes he’d worn when he was last conscious. “Don’t worry about it,” he assured the girl, finding his own voice rough and hoarse. How much time had passed for it to be so dry from disuse? “I only just woke—”

To his absolute horror, in the most bizarre and downright unsettling moves Cian had ever seen be done to him; the girl dropped to the floor on her hands and knees, and pressed her head down to the wooden planks of the floor. She was bowing—oh, Creators, the girl was prostrating. To him.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing,” the girl pleaded, breathless, her head just inches away from the box she had dropped, a desperation to his voice, terrified of what Cian would do—as if Cian would do anything to her “I am but a humble servant.”

This has to be a dream—a damned nightmare! Cian thought, watching the girl, horrified at the sight of a fellow elf bowing to him like he was something to worship. He was nothing, nobody. Cian was just a bloody hunter! “Where,” he started, and swallowed thickly. “Where am I?” he asked, carefully broaching the question, worried that one wrong word would send the girl running away.

The girl lifted her head to look at Cian, before dipping it away just as fast, like it was some kind of crime to look up at him. “You’re back in Haven, my lord,” the girl answered, her body trembling as she added in a rush, “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.”

Shit! The mark! Despite it all, Cian had nearly forgotten it, unbelievable with how much trouble it had been causing him.

He raised his hand and looked to his palm. The mark was still there, and it glowed in response to him, as if wielding its own sliver of sentience. But it was—smaller wasn’t quite the right word. It was still there, a long green line like a wound still healing, with green veins spidering out from it. But the spread stopped just past his wrist, faint, green cracks along his skin.

It ached, yes, and Cian suspected that was something that wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. But it wasn’t anywhere close to the agony it had caused before. That was a good sign, as far as he could tell.

“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

Cian looked back to the girl immediately. Three days? Had it really been three days? His stomach twisted, nervous knots tightening inside of him. “Then… are we safe?” he asked.

The girl hesitated, and Cian knew the answer, even before she put a voice to the words. “The Breach is still in the sky, but that’s what they say,” she confessed, and Cian felt disappointment crash over him.

He hadn’t succeeded. Not completely. That wasn’t good—wasn’t what he wanted. He’d failed. He had one job, and he failed it.

Afraid of the darkening mood, the girl scrambled to her feet, her head remained bowed even as she scurried backwards, putting distance between herself and Cian. “I’m certain that Lady Cassandra can tell you more. She wanted to see you when you’ve awakened,” she offered, gripping her hands tightly together. “She said ‘at once’.”

If Cassandra could tell him more of what was going on, then Cian had no reason not to go and find her. And where might I fight her?” Cian asked, carefully pushing himself off the bed, satisfied that he was steady on his feet.

“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor,” the elf stammered, still backing away, terrified of him. “’At once,’ she said, ‘at once’.” With that, she turned and ran out the door, slamming it shut behind her in her mad scramble to get away.

Alone, again, Cian shook his head. Too much was going on, but he at least had a few moments to sort through his own mess of thoughts and try to work out what happened, and maybe what was going on. Cassandra already waited three days for him to wake, she could wait a few minutes longer for him to get his bearings.

Plus, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to deal with the Roderick fellow.

A few minutes were spent rummaging around the room, and he found little more than a handful of coppers and some twine that he stuffed in his pocket.

There were a lot of papers on the desk, and Cian skimmed through most of them. One of them talked about what sounded like medical jargon, and he could only assume it was meant to be about him, but he paid it no mind in the end, either. It ultimately made no sense to him, so he found no reason to add it to his growing list of anxieties.

The pressing question was simple; was he still a prisoner? The girl had looked upon him with such fear that he might as well have been an Archdemon for all the difference it made. Was this just a moment of kindness, and he was going to be cast in irons as soon as he reached Cassandra, shipped off to Val Roy-whatever to be killed like the Chancellor demanded, her promise of a ‘fair trial’ be damned?

He found it hard to believe that whatever he managed to do with the Breach would have absolved him of any suspicion and blame.

The Breach was not gone. Was it to be as Leliana had said; they would remain in Haven to figure out what their next course of action at sealing the Breach would be? It couldn’t be as simple as Oh, that didn’t work, let’s try this instead, could it?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Reaching the hook on the wall, Cian took the coat waiting. It was a bit big on him, but it would work to stave off the chill of Haven. There was a green and brown satchel that had been hidden under the coat on the hook. His satchel. Cian felt a rush of satisfaction to see it. It had been a gift, handmaid, from back in the clan, and he would have loathed to have lost it.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he gave one final once over of the room, to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. There were no daggers, or knives, or any sort of weapon to be found. Understandable, they wouldn’t want to leave their prisoner armed.

“Best not keep the scary lady waiting,” Cian murmured to himself, steeling his nerves as he opened the door and stepped out into the cold, morning air.

Standing outside from the door were two soldiers facing him. Heads bowed; closed fist crossed over their chest. Beyond them were crowds of people lining the dirt path. Soldiers on either side, heads lowered with the same gesture.

Wait, Cian knew that gesture. He’d seen the soldiers to that to Cassandra, to Leliana. They were… saluting? Him?

He turned behind himself, just to make sure there wasn’t someone important in his shadow, but—no. He was alone. They were definitely saluting him. Was this a dream—it had to be, yeah, he was dreaming. Otherwise, he truly did not understand what happened to make human soldiers salute a Dalish elf, one they had held in custody under suspicion of murdering the damn Divine just three days ago.

Beyond them, he could see the Breach still in the sky. Swirling and green—but calm. It was still a glowing, green hole in the sky, an open door for demons, but it was no longer the eye of a storm. No crackling lightning or earth-shattering thunder. It was just… there.

It wasn’t a good thing, but it was an improvement to how it looked when he first woke up.

Cian looked from the sky when he realized people were murmuring, and he realized that it wasn’t just soldiers who were standing outside the house. Behind the line of guards were people. Just normal, everyday people. Staring at him, gawking, whispering. The tones both awed and scandalized, and just… afraid. Like the elf girl. They didn’t know who—what he was.

Swallowing, Cian walked, One step, then two. Whatever was going on… he wasn’t going to be afraid. He wasn’t going to let them know he was afraid. He was a hunter of Clan Lavellan, a proud Dalish elf.

Squaring his shoulders, keeping his head raised high, Cian walked to the two soldiers who had been at the front, directly in front of his house waiting for him to come out—and just how long had they all been waiting, anyway? He probably shouldn’t think too hard on that.

“Hello,” Cian greeted the two, his tone chipper despite his racing heart. “I was told to speak to Cassandra in the Chantry, where might I find that?” Because, while it made sense that Haven had a Chantry, he had no idea what to look for, how to identify the building.

“Of course,” one soldier nodded, turning from Cian to point further away, to a building that seemed to tower above the others. “You will find the Chantry there. Sister Leliana had suspected you would need aid, and so the soldiers have made a path for you,” he added, and motioned to the lines of soldiers further down.

The sight just made Cian want to run back inside and not come back out, but he couldn’t do that. So, he just nodded, offered his thanks, and began walking.

He kept his head up, he nodded to a few as he passed, he smiled. He did everything to mask how frightened he was as he walked, to act as if this was all perfectly normal and not something to be concerned about.

People continued to whisper as he spoke, and though he wasn’t actively trying to eavesdrop. he heard many mentions of a Herald… or maybe they were just saying Harold? That could be, too. It wasn’t his business, Cian told himself, don’t get involved. Just get to the Chantry, figure out what else he had to do so he could go home.

“That’s him.” Someone whispered, loudly, though he couldn’t make out who in the crowd said it, everyone seemed to have been pointing and gawking that they blended together.

“They say that when he stepped out of the fade, Andraste herself was watching over him! That She sent him to us!” someone else spoke up—and were they talking about him? Oh, Creators, they were talking about him.

“Shush! We shouldn’t disturb him!” Another hissed, and Cian couldn’t agree more. Just please, for the love of all that was holy, stop talking.

“That’s him, innit?” Someone else spoke further down the line, between a line of tents. “He stopped the Breach from getting any bigger.”

“Wasn’t he supposed to close it entirely?” Disappointed and confused as opposed to the awe of the others.

“Still a lot of rifts left all over. Like little cracks in the sky.” A woman mused over the rippling, hushed chatter.

Someone responded to her quickly enough. “He can seal those too, though. The Herald…”

“He stopped the Breach, power given to him by the Maker Himself.” Now that made him shudder and flinch. He was Dalish… mixing in the Maker and Andraste felt weird. But he couldn’t say anything, not to them. That was asking for trouble.

All throughout it the soldiers kept a solid line, a shield between him and the crowds, making an easy-to-follow route through the small little town—and small it was. Little houses, plenty of tents, and one tavern that he could tell. He was surprised by how quaint it all looked, and honestly? He could have easily seen his clan living content lives in a settlement like this.

Eventually, though, he reached the Chantry, identifiable by the number of sisters and brothers standing about outside its doors as they murmured and talked to themselves. “Chancellor Roderick says the Chantry wants nothing to do with him, or with us,” one whispered, her voice full of fright. The girl beside her reached out to touch her arm, and assured her that Roderick had no say in the matter.

Two guards stationed on either side of the doors opened them when Cian approached.

He was met with the smell of incense filling the air, of herbs and the musty scent of old books. It all made him feel dizzy in the head for a moment, but only for a moment before he recovered. The building itself was beautiful, it felt like an injustice to deny it that much. Simplistic, yet elegant.

Vaulted ceilings, smooth arches. Stone floors and stone walls, with red rugs and numerous torches and candles keeping it all alight. There were seats of course, a few with little prayer books by them; chairs and stools, and a few doors on either side.

At the end of the long hall were the Chantry banners, beside statues of a woman, Andraste, he could only assume.

Even though he was Dalish; Cian knew the Chantry. Not intimately, not by any means. But he knew enough of the lore and myths, and he knew enough of the worship to know that the building being so empty was unusual. Alien. It felt wrong, and Cian hated the uneasiness that came with it all. A building such as this should have been bustling with sisters and worshippers, not... this.

It was the door at the very end that he figured he was to go through. Not by any distinguishing markings or helpful people to point to it. No, his only base of assumption was through the rather obnoxious arguing that he could hear from the opposite side of the building. Still, though, Cian hesitated. He lingered by the door to listen, to get a sense of the mood, of what to expect.

Of course, none of it was good.

“Have you gone completely mad?” the familiar, outraged voice of Roderick hollered, his voice echoing against the stone. “He should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”

“I do not believe he is guilty,” Cassandra, and he was surprised by how certain she was in that claim. Touched, even. From declaring him guilty on the spot, ready to cut him down, to now defending his innocence, what growth in such a short amount of time. Impressive, really.

“The elf failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky,” Roderick pressed, and it made Cian falter—because he was right. Cian had failed. The Breach, though calmed and pacified, was still there, and who knew how long it would remain still? It took everything he had—it nearly killed him!—and he still failed. “For all you know; he intended it to be this way!”

Untrue, Cian wanted to yell. He never wanted any of this, not the mark, not a hole in the sky, and he sure as hell did more than Roderick trying to fix everything, so how fucking dare he continue to accuse him like that!

Fueled on by anger, Cian pushed the doors open loudly and marched in, his shoulders squared, and chin held high. He scanned the room, a massive table full of papers and scrolls, numerous candles. Cassandra and Leliana on one side, a pair of guards at the doors, and Roderick—Cian’s gaze locked on him immediately—at the head of the table.

“Chain him!” Roderick demanded of the guards as he pointed at Cian. “I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial!”

“Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra countered immediately. Her voice was firm, but unlike Roderick, she wasn’t screaming her head off to make her point heard. The guards saluted and went, shutting the doors behind them and making it clear who in the room had their loyalty.

Being alone in the room with the three of them didn’t make him feel any less anxious, but Leliana’s warm expression and silent greeting helped him keep his mask of control on, helped him keep a tight chain on his nerves.

Glowering at the closed door, Chancellor Roderick let his gaze fall to Cian, and then to Cassandra as he approached her. “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” he warned, and Cian decided that he liked the man even less than he already did. It was amazing how much Roderick was wracking up disapproval points in such a short amount of time. Truly a record.

Cassandra held his gaze, and the ferocity in her eyes was far, far more intimidating than anything the Chancellor had to offer. “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat,” she said, giving Cian another stab of guilt over his failure, and her expression sharpened impossibly more. “I will not ignore it.”

“I did everything I could to close the Breach,” Cian reminded as he approached the table, crossing his arms over his chest as he let his gaze linger on Roderick for a few moments longer. “It almost killed me.”

Roderick shifted to face him; his face twisted in ugly disgust. “Yet you live,” he accused, clearly, oh so clearly disappointed by that one detail. “A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned.”

“Have a care, Chancellor,” Cassandra said, her tone warning. “The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

Because of course it wasn’t. Cian wanted to ask what it was, what other threat could they have to deal with along with the Breach. But he didn’t need to in the end. Leliana approached, her gait graceful and silent, answering his questions before he even asked them.

Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect,” she noted, standing beside Cassandra, and watching Roderick. “Perhaps they died with others, or have allies who yet live.”

Cian was impressed how Leliana’s words were deadlier than any knife or arrow he’d seen.

The cherry to top it all off was how Chancellor Roderick reeled back, his face shocked at the unspoken accusation. “I am a suspect?” he demanded, absolutely offended by the notion.

And really, Cian was honestly just as surprised. He wouldn’t have thought any of the humans would point to someone in the Chantry and accuse them of a crime as horrible as this. As much as Leliana scared him, he certainly liked her and her boldness. There needed to be more people like that, as far as he was concerned.

“You, and many others,” Leliana answered simply.

“But not the prisoner?” Roderick screeched in outrage, gesturing wildly at Cian.

Cassandra shook her head, “I heard the voices in the Temple,” she pressed, and by her tone, it sounded like she had gone over this many times. “The Divine called out to him for help.”

The man’s grimace worsened, if that was even possible. “So, his survival, that thing on his hand? It’s all, what? Coincidence?” he demanded crossing his arms over his chest, pointing out how ridiculous it all sounded.

“Providence,” Cassandra said, and fuck, she sounded so sure of it. “The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour.”

Cian swallowed sharply; his mask slipped as the shock hit him. The Maker. That was—what… how was he supposed to respond to a claim like that? He was a Dalish elf, he had his own pantheon of gods he was supposed to worship. The people of the Andrastian faith hated his people because their belief went directly against the Chant of Light’s whole ‘proselytization of all of Thedas’ plan. They lost their home because of their ‘heretical belief’, and now Cassandra was claiming he was their savior?

He wanted to laugh but…

Oh, Creators, he hated how much it made sense. The Beyond, the flaming woman—was that… was that actually Andraste? Could he… is what Cassandra was saying… true?

“You…” Cian started, nervously twitching his fingers. “You really think the Maker would send someone like…me?”

Cassandra nodded as she turned her attention to him, that sharpness in her eyes had softened. “The Maker does as He wills,” she said as way of answer, not that it did anything to quell the nerves and confusion Cian was confronted with. “It is not for me to say.”

“Even if that means a Dalish elf is Hischosen?”

She nodded, again as she turned to approach a table against the opposite wall, doing…something. He couldn’t see what. “Humans are not the only ones with an interest in the fate of the world,” and, dang, she was right. The Breach would affect everyone, no matter their faith or lack of. It really shouldn’t matter what he was, he supposed.

Still, though, it left him stranded in a sea of uncertainty.

And with a lot of things he’d need to unpack.

“The Breach remains,” Leliana continued, “and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.”

Chancellor Roderick growled at her. “This is not for you to decide,” he yelled, and Cian was more surprised he wasn’t stomping his feet yet. He certainly seemed the sort of shemlen who thought that being the loudest meant they were the ones in charge, that louder meant important.

His pathetic complaints were ignored, drowned out by the heavy thud as Cassandra returned with a tome larger than anything other book he’d seen before. She dropped it to the table, just narrowly missing the Chancellors fingers. By the leathers, the insignia, and the locks to keep it safe, it was clear it was an important book.

Cassandra ran a finger along the symbol on the cover. “You know what this is, Chancellor?” she asked, but did not give the man a chance to answer. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn,”

She advanced on the Chancellor, each step measured, yet so quick that he couldn’t just scramble away fast enough as he was backed into a literal corner. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order,” Cassandra declared, jabbing a finger into his chest with each proclamation. “With or without your approval.”

The air was thick. Cian didn’t need to be of their faith to know how her words looked. She was effectively saying that if the Chantry didn’t agree, it could stuff it. And really; Cian admired that, even if it scared the shit out of him.

Still, he half expected Roderick to do something. The man looked from Cassandra to Leliana with righteous fury written on his face. But there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t physically confront Cassandra, and he had no real authority over her in any sense of the word. He was essentially powerless within the room.

After several long, agonizing moments, the man gave them all one final look of disgust before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

With him gone, the air in the room relaxed. Only a little. There was still a tension to it all, a wire pulled taut, with no knowing of what would happen if it broke. No one said anything, not for the longest moment.

Eventually, Leliana broke it as she circled the table to the book, her eyes on Cian the whole time, as if she knew he had questions. She probably did. There was no reason for her to think that he would have any idea what the Inquisition was. “This is the Divine’s directive; rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos,” she said, running a hand down the cover as Cassandra rejoined them. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice,” Cassandra finished for her, and both turned to look at Cian. “We must act now. With you at our side”

Cian had questions; his questions had questions. Every word they said left him spiraling deeper and deeper into confusion and wonderment. “What even is the Inquisition of old?” he asked, latching on to the first one he could.

“It preceded the Chantry,” Leliana said, and that gave Cian even more things to wonder. Preceded the Chantry, did that mean they were with Andraste, or her disciples, or… he wasn’t even sure how to think of it. “People who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.”

Cassandra nodded and continued for her. “After; they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order, but the Templars have lost their way.” she said, and boy did that not make him feel better about any of it. “We need those who can do what must be done. United under a single banner once more.”

Was he… Was Cian being asked to reform the group that attempted to massacre his people? He really did not feel all that great about it if that were the case. “You’re trying to start a holy war,” he said, before he could stop himself. His mind was still on stories of the massacre within the Dales, of the Exalted March that stole from his people the land they were promised.

“We are already at war, and you are already involved; it’s mark upon you,” Cassandra shot back, and… she was right. They were at war against the Fade, against the demons that came out from it. “Whether or not it is a holy one… that depends on what we discover.”

It was still a lot to take in, and it left Cian questioning so much of what he knew and believed, but underneath all the details and questions, the heart of it all was clear; close the Breach, save the world. Try not to die along the way.

He straightened his stance. “Well… when I woke up, I sure didn’t picture this outcome.” How could anyone have thought to be thrown into this kind of crazy? No one ever woke up and found ‘world about to end, you are possibly the only hope to save it’ on their list of things that would happen.

Cassandra stepped closer to him, offering him her hand. “Help us fix this,” she said—she asked him. “Before it is too late.”

He hated the pressure of it all. The weight of being responsible for so much.

But… it wasn’t as suffocating anymore. The Breach was stable, for now, and the mark wasn’t actively killing him. He wasn’t a prisoner, desperate to prove his innocence. It didn’t feel like everything was crumbling around him, where every second was vital to the survival of the whole world.

For some strange reason, Cian almost felt like they could do this. That he could do this. Perhaps their certainty was rubbing off on him.

Stepping forward, Cian took her hand. Whatever happened next, they’d do it together. “I’m in,” Cian said, squeezing her hand in his. They’d form this Inquisition, they’d close the Breach, and they were going to hunt down whoever was behind it, and make them regret it. That much he promised.

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age Inquisition #lavellan inquisitor #Fanfic #The Wrath of Heaven Quest #Inquisitor Cian #Cian's Adventures In The Inquisition

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urthemiiel · 1 year

Text

stuff about my warden june mahariel i am feeling the need to talk about him

- he had just turned 20 at the start of the blight

- he’s a mage!! an apprentice healer in the sabrae clan. he’s extremely gifted in healing magic but.. Less so with other magic. he’d never had interest in fighting anyways

- he was always a very quiet child. he’s not necessarily shy he just doesn’t feel the need to speak a whole lot. he also seems to move around silently and can go completely unnoticed if he wants to

- the way he speaks is usually kinda odd and cryptic. the keeper once even compared him to a spirit bc of the way he talks and also the fact that he is incredibly perceptive of the feelings and pain of other ppl. his clan is used to him being a lil peculiar but its very different when he has to try to interact with humans as a warden. he never really cares about being socially correct though

- his favorite part of the camp was the halla pens, he could usually be found curled up the in grass asleep or sitting and carving some trinket out of a piece of wood

- him and tamlen… were in luv. they were very in tune with each other and since june could sometimes be a little naive and always too curious about everything tamlen was always kinda protective of him. june was Very attached to him and Big time blames himself for tamlens death, it was his curiosity that led them to that eluvian, and tamlen had even pulled him away from touching it first

- he Hated duncan at first. he’s always been especially wary and sometimes even frightened of humans, and he could not believe that tamlen was actually gone just bc a human said so. the only reason anyone was able to get him to stop searching for him was bc the sickness made him pass out again

- duncan had to invoke the right of conscription and even then june tried to refuse. he thought if he was going to die he’d rather die at his own home. it seemed like a huge betrayal to him at the time that the keeper would send him off with a human like that. he lost tamlen and then felt like he was being abandoned by his clan too and it was very devastating and scary

- after duncan basically dragged him to ostagar he barely spoke at all, he hated alistair at first too and every question alistair asked him was met with silence and a blank stare. he was dealing with horrible grief, homesickness, and being in a completely unfamiliar environment surrounded by rude humans. it felt like bitter irony that he was the only one to survive the joining

ok ill stop there but ill probably do another post ab him sometime i have so many ideas for him……

#im rotating him in my mind rn #i want to start actually posting ab my ocs instead of just reblogging…#so heres a start #mahariel

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arthrmorgann · 2 years

Note

💖💙🍆 for gaia and minerva!

Thank you lovely!

GAIA LAVELLAN

💖 Has your OC ever been in love, be it romantic or platonic or otherwise? Who with and did they ever express their feelings or keep it private? How long did these feelings persist / do they still feel this way?

In her youth, there were a few members of her clan that Gaia was romantically interested in most notably: twin hunters Adahleni and Isenril, and an apprentice Halla keeper, Nydhalin. None of those relationships went anywhere beyond a simple adolescent crush, though she did pursue Isenril for a short while.

Her most notable love interest would definitely be Solas. After the events of Trespasser, it is fair to say their relationship is complicated at best. Still, despite everything, she holds a deep love for him.

💙 What did your OC want to be when they grew up and why? Did they have any lifelong dreams or ambitions they never got to work on or are they currently working to achieve this dream? Has their life taken a very unexpected turn and put all these plans on hold for a while or have they given up on any dreams?

Prior to being named First to her Keeper, Gaia always aspired to be a hunter or warrior for her clan. She didn't really have much skill with healing magic so she more or less ruled herself out of training to become one. She was more proficient at hunting in her youth due to time spent with the twins. When she was eventually named First, Gaia threw herself headfirst into her studies. It was a surprise to her but also a great honour.

🍆 Tea or Coffee or Hot Chocolate? Sweet or Spicy? Fruits or Vegetables?

Gaia isn't much for hot drinks really though she does like tea on colder nights or if she's feeling unwell. She's fairly neutral when it comes to sweet or spicy foods, though doesn't like anything with a lot of spice. And she'll quite happily eat all kinds of fruits and vegetables. Gaia can make a very tasty vegetable broth with the right ingredients!

MINERVA PEG'ASI

Her first love truly was Vexx. Or at least she believed herself to be. Next to Nerissa, Vexx was the only other person at court that seemed to genuinely like and talk with her. After Vexx she did find herself romantically interested in both Ryona and June, though it was the latter she felt drawn more towards.

Minerva lead a very sheltered life in her youth and always expected she would go on to have a life revolved around her family or the royal court in some way - in her eyes the most likely option would have been her marrying another noble or someone equally high up to appease her parents. Beyond the scope of court, she was interested in the arts, particularly music and poetry and would have liked to pursue a career in that area if not for events of the game.

🍆 Tea or Coffee or Hot Chocolate? Sweet or Spicy? Fruits or Vegetables?

Hot chocolate if she can get her hands on it! Tea she doesn't mind on occasion but she absolutely hates the taste of coffee. Minerva prefers sweeter and milder foods, but wouldn't turn her nose up at a spicier dish if offered to her, even if it is something she hasn't tried before. And between fruits and vegetables, Minerva would more likely go fruit. It's more convenient to eat in her opinion.

#oc: gaia lavellan #oc: minerva peg'asi #thank you emily <33

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cullens-babe · 2 years

Text

The Rise of Bloom Lavellan

Chapter 5: The Exchange

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Hope you enjoy!

And btw, I did a time skip because I didn't exactly know what to write for that time? Like how to write her training her magic and the other important thing, so I just kinda...did a time skip. Forgive me-

And there's some proofreading, but sorry if some stuff is off!

"This is a great discovery," Deshanna said.

Brialle only hummed in response. She was too fascinated by her fire. She turned her hand sideways and watched as the fire spread to her knuckles.

"This is all I needed to see. How about you go back to your parents?" She closed Brialle's hand, finally gaining her attention, and smiled.

"Oh! Yeah, I can do that. I probably should find my dad first!" She stood up quickly and smiled brightly. "Can I give you a hug, Keeper?"

Deshanna smiled at the politeness and nodded. She wrapped her arms around Brialle as she hugged her. She was little, yet she could squeeze hard, and Deshanna squeezed back.

She was going to see her tomorrow, but she still squeezed her tight. She knew what she had to consider, and she didn't like it.

"You go ahead, da'len. I need a moment to myself."

Brialle pulled away and nodded. "Alright! Thank you for this, Keeper."

Deshanna's throat tightened with emotion, so she only nodded. Brialle left and she heard her call out for her father. The little girl was so happy, but her Keeper was almost the opposite.

"Remember your role, Deshanna," she said as she twisted the promise ring on her finger. It was a habit of hers and she did it when she found a challenge she was afraid to face.

She wore two rings. One ring was the ring almost every Keeper wore as their reminder of their role. It was symbolizing Fen'Harel's betrayal to the Gods and always made her remember to keep her clan safe. The other was a promise ring from her husband. He got it for her when they got married and she cherished it. She never took either off and she felt powerful when she had both.

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. "Everything will be fine. Remember your role. Never forget."

Brialle went under training to deal with her magic. She was excited every day, but she always did her duties. She never missed her mother or father's lessons, she never acted out, and she never spoke to Jahel aloud. She only spoke to him within the Fade and within her thoughts. Eventually, she told her father about him, but he didn't believe her either.

They believed something was attached to her, but none thought it was her brother. All people who knew only thought it was either a demon or a spirit. Regardless, none of them trusted it. Their Keeper kept a close eye on Brialle and always checked in with her every day. The Keeper, the Keeper's apprentice, Brialle's father and mother were the only people who knew about Brialle's connection.

Deshanna was never supposed to put the clan in danger, it was the Keeper's duty. People may not think it, but she truly loved every person in her clan. It was the same two years later.

And that was why she sent Brialle away.

"How are you, Brialle?"

Brialle sat in the Halla pen, brushing one of the Halla's fur, and the Keeper's apprentice, Lelin, sat next to her.

"I'm doing alright. How are you?" Brialle asked with a smile. "It's kinda late for you to be out now." She looked up at the sky to see the sun setting

"I'm doing great. I-"

"Wait!" She stopped brushing the Halla and looked over to Lelin with a worried look. "Is it something related to the Keeper? Or what she told you today?"

Lelin's heart pounded for a moment. She never told Brialle that she knew about her connection, and she didn't want her to find out. She only wanted to be friends with her, and not make her afraid.

Lelin smiled with embarrassment. "Not exactly. It's just about the more magic I learned today!" She said with excitement. She wasn't sure if she was allowed to tell others about the magic she learned, but she couldn't help but share it with Brialle. She felt comfortable around her, safe, and she knew she wouldn't tell anyone.

Brialle smiled and nodded as she continued to brush the Halla's fur. "Well, what did you learn?"

Lelin scooted closer and showed her hand. "You see this little cut I have?" She traced a small cut that was on her palm.

"How did you hurt yourself?" Brialle said with worry.

Lelin looked away embarrassed. "I fell when I tried to climb one of the trees." A blush ran across her face and it made Brialle laugh.

"You finally tried? Why didn't you let me come? I love climbing the trees!"

"You were busy training and I didn't want to be a bother."

Brialle side hugged Lelin for a second and smiled. "You're never a bother."

Lelin felt her guilt rise again. Brialle was always sweet and kind, never a danger to others, but she was told different. She was told that she was a danger, not to be trusted, and that she had to be watched each day. She just couldn't believe that this girl was a danger.

"Brialle. Lelin."

The girls looked behind them to see Deshanna standing behind the gate to the Halla pen. Instead of a smile or happy expression, her face was sad and her eyes looked slightly red. They both stood up at her sudden appearance and they stood up straight.

"Did you need something, Keeper?" Brialle asked.

"Brialle, something bad is going to happen."

"What?" She asked Jahel. "How do you know?"

"I saw it!"

"I need you to grab a few things and meet me at the entrance of our camp." Her voice was quiet and calm, but even an eleven year old could hear the pain.

"Brialle, listen to me!" Jahel pleaded.

"Not now! I have to focus on what's going on."

"What's going on? What are you going to do?" Lelin asked with slight panic. She always kept her composure, it's what she was taught, but she believed she knew where this was going, and she didn't like it.

Deshanna looked over at Lelin and shook her head. "This doesn't concern you. Go back to your parents and I will see you later."

Lelin stepped forward. "Keeper, you can't-"

"Please, Lelin," Deshanna pleaded. She wouldn't let anyone else witness this and wouldn't let this get out of hand.

Lelin went quiet and stared at Deshanna for a moment. She always listened to the Keeper, and this was the only time she didn't want to. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a hand on her shoulder. She looked to her side to see Brialle with a smile.

"It's okay. I'll see you later, alright?" She tilted her head slightly and squeezed Lelin's shoulder once.

Lelin bit her lip and nodded. "I'll see you later." She pulled away and walked back to her parent's tent. She was almost running, trying to get far away from the situation. If she didn't, then things would escalate and it would only cause more problems.

Once Lelin was gone, Deshanna stepped closer and pulled Brialle into a hug. "Go get the things important to you and meet me at the entrance of our camp, alright?"

Brialle was confused and nervous at the sudden tension, but she nodded and hugged her back. "Yes, Keeper. I'll meet you there. Where are my parents?"

"They'll be waiting for you there with me." She pulled away and nodded. "Get to it, da'len." She began to walk away and she looked at her hand the entire way. She twisted her Keeper ring back and forth as a reminder. "Remember your role, Deshanna."

Brialle grabbed a small, woven bag and looked around her family's tent. "What should I even bring?"

"She said only the things important to you, right?" Jahel reminded her. Somehow, his memory and hers were different, even if they were attached.

"Oh, right! I wonder why."

"I think I know why, Brialle," Jahel said sadly.

She walked over to her small, wooden box by her bedroll. It contained any kind of jewelry or special things to her. "I guess I should just choose a few things from here?" She sat on the ground and opened it.

Inside was a string with a marble at the bottom tied like a necklace, a red rock that she found on her first day of training, her hair brush, a wooden promise ring from her parents, and a small figurine that looked like her that one of the boys carved for her.

"Do you think I could take everything? I mean, nothing's really too big."

"You should take only what you want. What happens if we lose the bag and we lose everything?" He reasoned. He wanted her to keep everything that made her happy, but he worried about what was going to happen. He assumed it was never good when you had to pack your stuff up.

"I guess I'll only take my hairbrush, your necklace, and the promise ring. It's not too much." She put it all in the bag and it managed to fit, which made her sigh with relief. She closed the box and stood up. She looked around one more time and thought about what she needed.

"Do you think you need food? Water? A coat of some sort?" Jahel worried and it made Brialle nervous.

"It's not like I'm going away forever or somewhere far away. I'll be alright. Besides, it's not that cold. It's only fall."

Jahel sighed. "If you say so. But don't complain when you're cold!"

She rolled her eyes and exited the tent. She walked to the entrance of the tent and expected to see her parents there, but not to see them...crying? She began to run towards them and stopped when she got to them.

She grabbed her mothers hands. "What's going on? Why are you crying?" She looked over to her father to see him in the same state. "What happened? Are you both hurt?!" Her heart raced and she felt like something was really wrong. The last time she felt like that was when Jahel died. She never wanted to feel like that again.

Her mother knelt down and hugged Brialle tightly. "I'm so sorry, Brialle." She ran her hand down her hair. "I'm so sorry."

Her father knelt down as well and hugged them both. "I'm sorry, too, Brialle. We'll miss you dearly."

She wrapped her arms around them tightly and her own tears fell. "What's going on? Why are you crying?" She didn't want to cry, but she couldn't help it. When others cried, she would end up doing the same.

Her mother pulled back slightly and wiped her face. "You're going to a different clan, but only for a little while."

"What?! Why?" Brialle yelled. She never imagined she would leave her clan, especially not like this.

"The other clan has better mages. They're in a safer area and can protect you better."

"Protect me? Why do I need protecting?"

Her mother went silent, so her father spoke in her turn. He pulled away and sniffed. "They can figure out what's going on with you and Jahel. You both could be in danger and they are better fit to figure it out."

She furrowed her brows and shook her head. "Why can't they come here? Why do I have to leave? Our mages are completely capable!"

"I'm sorry, da'len, but it can't be that way. Our mages are too young, and I am not powerful enough to help," Deshanna said. She stood a littles away from them, wanting to give them a private moment.

Brialle looked over to her Keeper and she shook her head again. Her expression turned from sadness to anger. "So you're just giving me away? How could you do that?!" She shouted with anger.

Deshanna went to reply, but she stopped when she heard hooves clack. She turned around and saw an aravel arrive with two men in the wagon. They were dressed in hunter gear and had their bows behind them. One got out and walked towards them.

He looked at Brialle with her parents and sadly sighed. "Is she ready? We don't have time for this."

"Who are you? Where am I going?" Brialle asked with a wavy voice. She did her best to sound angry, but now she was just scared.

The man looked back at her. "You're going to another clan."

"Thank you for traveling far. Just give me one moment."

Deshanna moved closer to the group and placed a hand on Dina and Salem. "You have to let her go. This is for her safety as well." She sighed sadly when neither parent reacted. "Please, this has to end. You'll see her again, I promise. We all will."

Her mother pulled away and kissed Brialle on her forehead. "I promise we'll see you soon. You won't be there long." She stood up and turned towards the man. "You better get her there safely, or I swear you will not be happy."

"Dina." Deshanna warned.

Salem pulled away and kissed Brialle on her forehead. "Like your mother said, we'll see you again, I promise. We have to make up for you training, right?" He tapped the side of her head and laughed. "Don't forget everything, alright? I love you, my dear," he said as he hugged her one last time. He stood up and pulled Dina back to him.

"Vhenan, we cannot cause a scene here. It'll only make things worse."

"I'm sorry for you, but please let's not keep this going," the man said with slight annoyance.

Deshanna walked closer to Brialle and knelt down. "I'm sorry, da'len. I hope you can forgive me." Her voice broke at the end, but she refused to cry. If she did, she wouldn't be able to let her go.

Brialle was angry, almost furious, but she hugged her Keeper goodbye. Ever since Jahel passed, she never missed the chance to let someone know she would miss them. A hug was the best she could do at the moment, no words could form anymore.

Brialle looked at the man and wiped her eyes. "Where do I sit?"

"Brialle! Wake up!" Jahel whispered.

Brialle opened her eyes slowly to see the night sky. The stars shined bright and it was her favorite sight.

"When did I fall asleep?" Brialle asked.

She felt the wood against her back and could feel herself slightly sway with the aravel. She sat up and yawned. "How close are we?" She asked the men she was with. They both sat in the front and guided the Halla.

The man with blonde hair looked at her over his shoulder. "We should be there soon. You've been out for awhile."

The man with brown hair scoffed. "I thought you were going to attack us. We kept looking over our shoulder."

The blonde smacked the guy on his arm. "Stop it. She doesn't need to be accused."

"BRIALLE!" Jahel shouted to get her attention.

She winced and held a hand against the side of her head. "What?!'

"You alright?" The brown haired man asked.

She giggled and nodded. "Yes, I'm fine."

"I saw someone, and he looked like he was carrying a weapon." Jahel said firmly.

"How far was he?"

"He was out of my reach. I tried to go further but it was too far. I'm sorry," he said. It wasn't his fault, but he still felt like he could've done something more. "I couldn't see him and it made me worry, so I woke you up so you could tell them. Tell them before he finds us or something bad!"

"Um, sir," she said as she tapped the brown haired man on the back.

"What's wrong?"

She tried to think of how to tell him. "I-I think I saw someone with a weapon."

The two men looked at each other with a worried look. The blonde haired man stopped the Halla and looked back at Brialle. "How far was he? And how did you see him?"

The brown haired man turned completely around to face her. "Your Keeper told us about your...connection. Did he help you see it?" The man spoke gently and calmly.

She took in a deep breath. "Yes, he did."

The blonde haired man tapped the other guy on his arm. "How can we-"

"Please believe me," she pleaded. She was tired of no one believing her anymore. It hurt to have her credibility stolen just because of her connection.

The men looked at each other and nodded. The brown haired man stood and reached behind Brialle. He grabbed two bows and handed one to the other man. "You stay right here, alright? If you hear anything other than us, run."

She nodded and laid down to try and hide herself. "Jahel, can you keep an eye out? Please?"

"Of course."

She looked around and felt a blanket at her feet. "I could hide myself." She slowly reached down and grabbed the blanket. She slowly pulled it up and did her best to cover herself. She wrapped it around herself and was about to pull it above her head when she heard a shout.

"Brialle, you have to get up! The attackers are nearby," Jahel told her. He had seen the men walk around carefully, but they couldn't hear him warn about the attackers. A downfall to being connected to only Brialle.

"How close are they? Do I even have time to run?"

"Those men are still fighting, so you should have time to run. I didn't see anyone else! So run!"

Brialle kicked the blanket off of herself and quickly got out of the aravel. She turned and grabbed her bag, but screamed when she felt arms wrap around her middle.

"NO! LET ME GO!" She thrashed in their grip, and tried to free herself.

"Stop moving, kid!" A mans voice said.

She looked down and pried at the mans hands. She scratched his arms and pulled as hard as she could, but he wouldn't let go. "PLEASE!"

"BRIALLE!"

The man's gripped loosened when he felt a punch on his back. It felt like someone had pushed him, but when he turned around, no one was there. "Who's out there?!" The man called out.

She took advantage of his attention and hit his face with the back of her head. He dropped her and she quickly stood up. She knew he would get her quickly even if she was free, so she grabbed the blanket and threw it over his head. Once she knew he was stalled, she turned to run, but the man appeared in front of her.

"You're not getting away that easily," he said with a smirk.

Brialle looked behind herself quickly to see a tree branch on the ground. It was thick and she could use it to hit him. "Jahel, watch out for me, okay? I have a stupid plan."

She continued to back up and get closer to the tree branch. "W-Why do you want me?"

The man scoffed. "I don't want you. Some people in Tevinter will want you!"

She took another step back. "Tevinter? Where is that?"

He rolled his eyes. "It doesn't concern you!" He ran forward and tried to grab her.

She ran, but he managed to grab her arm. "Let me go!" She screamed.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but he let out a grunt of pain as something hit the back of his head. He let go of her and fell to the ground, passing out.

She backed up quickly and sighed with relief. But it ended quickly when she saw a boy with a wooden sword standing behind the man. He must've been the one to knock him out.

"Who are you?" He said shakily.

She squinted her eyes. "Who are you?"

He lowered his sword. "I'm Landon. I-I heard screaming, so I came to help." He looked down at the man for a second before he looked back at Brialle. "What did he say he wanted with you?"

She placed the branch on the ground, still nearby if he decided to attack her. "He said he wanted to take me to Tevinter. Where is that?"

He gasped quietly and looked at the ground sadly. "It's...not entirely a good place."

She wrapped her arms around herself. "What did he want with me? What was he going to do?" Her voice trembled as she spoke. She never encountered a man more violent than he, and it threw her off.

"It's too much to explain in the woods. Do you have somewhere to go? Somewhere you live?"

She shook her head. "No, not anymore. I was going with some other men to a different area, but we got attacked. I don't know where I am."

"Maybe we can find out where we are!" Jahel said happily.

"Where is this exactly?" She looked around the area and she couldn't see much because of the night.

"You're in Ferelden."

She looked back at him and tilted her head. "Ferelden? I can't remember if I've heard of it or not."

He bit his lip as he thought. "How about I take you to where I live? It's safe there," he said gently.

"How do I know it's safe? How can I trust you?"

The boy placed his fists on his hips and got into a hero pose. "I'm training to be a templar, so I live at the circle."

"The circle? What does he mean? A circle is only a shape, right?" Jahel asked.

At the confused look on her face, Landon cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "A circle is a place filled with mages and other templars. It's a safe place, I promise. But," he nodded towards the branch she placed on the ground, "if you don't trust me, you can bring that with you while I take you there. I can't leave you out here on your own. It's terrible."

"I mean...do we have anywhere else to go? We don't know where the other clan is, we don't know how far we are from our clan, and you almost died, Brialle. I don't think we have a choice," Jahel said sadly. He didn't really trust strangers, especially after one tried to kidnap his sister, but neither had a choice.

She nodded slowly. "I-I guess." She picked up the branch and walked closer to him. "I'm ready to go."

He smiled and nodded. "Good! It's not far, I promise. But," he paused for a moment and looked away embarrassed, "we have to be a little careful. I'm not really supposed to be out right now."

"But why?"

"I'm supposed to be at home since I don't really start my training until tomorrow, but I went out for a walk and I heard you scream. I thought I would be too late if I didn't go myself, so I came."

She smiled. "Well, I'm glad you did. Thank you, Landon."

He nodded and looked forward. "You're welcome. Let's get going before it gets too late and I get in even more trouble."

After ten minutes, the two arrived at the dock by Lake Calenhad. Landon led Brialle to the pier and smiled at the templar that waited there. "Hello, sir. This girl needs help and I've come to take her to the circle." He gave a polite smile and tried to make the guy believe him.

The guard tilted his head and looked at Brialle. "What's your name, girl?"

"Should we tell him? How can we trust any of them?" Jahel worried.

She stared at the man for a moment and hesitated. She feared that they would expose her or do something to hurt her. She began to wonder if it was a good idea to go there. She broke out of her thoughts when she felt a hand grab hers. She looked up and saw Landon hold her hand with a comforting smile.

"It's alright. None of us are here to hurt you."

"My name is...Bloom," she told him.

"What?" Jahel asked with confusion. He didn't understand why she lied about her name.

The guard looked at her ears. "Where are you from? You're an elf, correct?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir, I am. I'm from a different area, and I don't know how I got here." Her heart pounded with anxiety at her small lie. She knew how she got here, but she couldn't tell him.

"It's a long story," Landon said with a small laugh.

The guard clicked his teeth. "I know you're supposed to be here, Landon, so I guess you can go in. You'll have to take her to the First Enchanter."

Landon's face brightened and he smiled. "Thank you, sir. I'll take her there right away." He looked back at Brialle and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It's time to go inside, Bloom."

"Brialle, do you want to change your mind? This is your last chance. I don't know what to do, so I'm following you," Jahel admitted. Even when he was alive, he followed Brialle's pace. He was independent, but big decisions worried him, so he followed most of his sister's choices.

"This is the only option, Jahel. It's either come here or go back into the woods and die or get kidnapped."

"Lead the way, Landon." She squeezed his hand back.

The man pulled the boat closer to the dock and sat in the front. The two kids sat in front of him side by side. The man pushed away from the dock and began to row them to the circle.

Brialle looked down at her hand resting on her lap and saw that Landon still held it. She felt herself shaking, and she assumed he knew it, too. "Thank you for saving me."

OKAYYY!!! THIS WAS SO LONG LORD. I didn't expect it to be so long...but it ended up being long. I just had so much to go into this chapter, and I couldn't split it into another one so here we goo!! I hope you enjoyed and I hope you reblog to share this! I know a lot of people aren't interested into my series, but I'm still excited to write this whole thing out, so I hope some at least like reading this lol.

But anyways yeah! I'll be working on the next chapter and it'll be out soon!

ALSO! I read about the circle of magi and tried to think of where to go and lord...was it confusing to write about the small part of the circle. Like I seriously didn't know how to describe it, so I think it'll get better in the next chapter so yeah-

#dragon age #dragon age: inquisition #dragon age inquisition #The Rise of Bloom Lavellan #my writing #gosh I love it now. Finally to the point of where is now Bloom. It'll be explained later why she told him her name was Bloom and not #Brialle. It's really sad >:). But it also kinda makes sense and is just personal to her. But anyways-#I hope you enjoyed this if you read it! I'm sorry its so long!

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