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shivunin · 4 months

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A Gravity Assist

For @greypetrel for Christmas/New Year's c: I was inspired by the piece you wrote about Aisling and Maria in the Western Approach. Here are our girls doing more questionable science! Happy new year, and I am very glad to know you 💗

(Maria Hawke & Aisling Lavellan | 3,042 Words | No Warnings)

Gravity Assist: A maneuver done in space in which a vessel is pulled partially into the gravity of a celestial body in order to alter its trajectory or speed (sometimes called a slingshot maneuver)

“You like her?” Varric said, peering down at the sheet of parchment before him.

It was late. Most of the Great Hall’s occupants had wandered off or gone on to other duties, and Skyhold slept quietly around them. Hawke swirled the liquor in her glass for a moment, considering her answer. She didn’t need to ask who he meant, of course. There was only one “her” that really counted around here.

“I do,” she said at last, and searched for the right words to explain why.

While she’d been trying to become truly anonymous in the Ferelden countryside, Varric had been here and in Haven, helping to build the organization she sought help from now. Obviously, she’d come here with half an intention to stage a rescue. If Varric had actually been held here against his will, she rather thought she would have pulled it off, too. She’d been surprised to find that he was here entirely of his own volition, and even more surprised to find that it…suited him.

Hawke had arrived at Skyhold wary, though not actually planning to act against the Inquisition. She’d intended to help to the extent that she could—with Carver’s life on the line, how could she do anything else?—but she hadn’t expected to enjoy it very much. She certainly hadn’t expected to find the much-lauded Herald of Andraste…earnest. Kind. Damn good company.

“You didn’t want to,” Varric went on, plainly following her own thoughts, and Maria laughed.

“No, I can’t say I did. I was expecting someone more…Oh, self-important, I suppose. Like the nobility back home. I’d heard she was an elf, of course, but I heard just as many say she was any number of other things. It didn’t occur to me that she would be so good at…” she paused, gesturing with the glass while she thought, “experiments.”

“She is that,” Varric said, tapping his quill into the inkwell and scrawling a single line onto the next page before setting it aside to dry. “Couldn’t stop her if we tried, and Curly certainly wanted to try.”

“Did he now?” Hawke asked, and Varric laughed.

“Leave it, Hawke. They’re both in one piece, aren’t they? She doesn’t need someone to defend her. She’s got plenty. And, ah—” he laughed, one of the knowing chuckles that’d driven her mad when they’d first begun to know each other, “—I don’t think you need to defend Aisling from the Commander.”

Maria hummed and lifted her glass again. For a time, they were quiet. The fire was plenty engrossing to watch, and the soft scribble of Varric’s quill on parchment was a familiar sort of accompaniment to her thoughts. The whiskey was warm on her tongue when she sipped it, and it was all rather cozy.

She didn’t like the comfort of it. Time was running perilously short, there were a thousand things she’d left undone at home, and she was spending her time here attending fetes and trying to keep herself too busy to think. It didn’t feel right to be kicking her heels here when there was so much that’d gone horribly wrong in the world. It didn’t seem—

“Cham—Hawke!” she hardly heard the Inquisitor before the elf sat hard on the bench beside her. “I was looking for you. I had a question, you see. Oh—was I interrupting?”

“Not at all, Lucky,” Varric said, setting the page aside and shifting another closer to him. “Hawke here was just telling me she thought the Inquisitor would be self-important.”

Maria smiled and kicked him under the table. Varric grunted.

“What I said,” she informed the Inquisitor, looping her arm through the other woman’s, “was that you have exceeded my every expectation. Don’t listen to him; he’s dreadful at paraphrasing. You’ve no idea the amount of things he left out of that dreadful book.”

“Dreadful,” Varric scoffed. “Dreadful! I’ll have you know I was interrogated over that book, Hawke. For days. Weeks, even.”

“I remember it quite well,” she informed him, for she’d neither forgotten nor forgiven the Seeker for it.

It had been worth sneaking into the woman’s quarters, she decided, for the clear discomfort the woman had felt without access to any undergarments. Good riddance; may the hares and foxes in the valley below enjoy them well.

“Did you want to say something, dear?” she added, nudging Aisling. “You seemed excited.”

Aisling, who’d been holding herself very still with visible effort, brightened.

“Oh—yes, I almost forgot. I had a question to ask you, if you don’t mind the asking, about those force spells you showed me the other day…”

They sat before the fire for some time, discussing magical theory and the likely velocity of a given object if one tried to use a telekinetic spell to hurl it into a gravitic ring. It was pleasant to think about, actually—good exercise for a mind that had taken to pacing itself in circles. Hawke found herself awake long after she’d intended to be, more comfortable than she’d managed these last restless weeks at Skyhold, and relieved to remember that there’d been a life before all this fear. Magical theory existed rather completely beyond the question of Wardens and Callings and would-be gods who ought to have been long dead.

She’d been honest when she told Varric she liked the Inquisitor, but it was more than that. There’d been a horrible, niggling guilt at the back of her mind: she’d known that the Chantry was looking for her, known that she’d been wanted at the Conclave. When the sky had been ripped open, when Varric had told her all that had happened, her first thought was that she should have been there. Corypheus was her responsibility. He was a Hawke’s burden to carry and she had failed.

If she had been at the Conclave…

No, no; leave that to think about after she got into the bedroom. It would do no good to consider it here and now.

“Goodnight,” she told the Inquisitor some time later, and relished the comfort of being able to actually hug somebody else for once. Varric, for all his familiarity, had always had a rather low tolerance for her long goodbyes. Aisling allowed them for far longer, to Hawke’s infinite relief.

It was difficult to realize how much one had come to rely on consistent physical contact until one had lost the opportunity to have any at all.

“Goodnight,” the elf said, squeezing her in return. “Tomorrow morning, maybe later in the week—do you think you have time to test it out? I do think it could be helpful for a variety of applications.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Maria said. “When someone is falling, for example, or perhaps we can find a way to sort of slingshot things using it…or we could use it if you need to fight a dragon again. Dreadful creatures. I was almost eaten by one, you know.”

“Varric told me,” Aisling said, and they unfolded themselves from each other at last. “I am hoping we might use the two in combination to lower goods into the valley and bring them up more easily than the road allows. But—tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow,” Maria agreed, smiling—genuinely for once, and turned to leave for her quarters

“Goodnight,” the elf said again and bounced away, already patting her pockets for something.

A notebook, Hawke supposed, or something to write with. When she slipped into her own room at last, she locked the door behind her and tapped into the wards she’d left here when she’d gone away for the day.

All was well. This annoyed her; if there’d been an issue, it would have been nice to solve something for once.

When she’d finished changing, Hawke slipped beneath the covers and rested a hand over her eyes. She’d thought they would be gone from here by now, had thought they’d already set out for the Western Approach and whatever waited for them there. But—amassing an army and getting it to move took a great deal more time than she’d expected. They would leave within the week, certainly, but it still didn’t feel soon enough.

No; no. There was nothing she could do about the Inquisition right now.

Gravitic rings and telekinetic bursts. These, she knew. She turned her mind to the experiment the Inquisitor had proposed until she was too tired to think. When she dropped off to sleep at last, she did so occupied with the thought of experiments and logic, not the pressure of time.

For the first time in days, she actually slept through the night.

“What’s happening over here?” Varric asked some time later, and the three mages peered down from the upper level of the ruins.

It was hot in the Western Approach, to say the least. They’d been up here long enough that the pale Inquisitor was noticeably pink about the cheeks. They probably ought to find shelter from the sun soon, it was only—well. It’d been ages since Maria had worked magic in tandem with someone else, and it was invigorating. She almost hadn’t noticed the time passing at all, but the angle of the sun indicated they’d been up here far too long.

“Varric!” Aisling called, waving. “Stay right there. We’ll show you!”

When she nodded to Hawke, the two of them gestured and called forth their respective magics. Dorian, who’d taken more than one turn in either of their places by now, took a long-dry carafe and hurled it into the stream of the first spell. For a moment, it flew through the air, cartwheeling end over end as it was caught in the force of the telekinetic spell. Then, while Maria held the gravitic ring steady, the carafe hit the perimeter of her spell and slowed noticeably.

Varric, who’d taken several steps back when Dorian threw the carafe, approached slowly.

“Huh,” he said, and caught the pottery when Maria released the spell.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she said, clapping twice. “Can you imagine if we’d figured this out sooner? The things I could’ve thrown in my foyer at the manor. But wait—there’s more. We started toying with the rotation of the ring and—”

“—if we are careful about how we aim it—” Aisling interjected, and Maria gestured in agreement.

“—it can even be used to redirect objects already in motion, so long as there was sufficient force behind it to begin with,” Maria finished in a rush, rocking from foot to foot in excitement.

“Perhaps you’d better stand back,” Dorian told Varric. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t especially enjoy having a rock thrown at my head.”

“Oh, it was a complete accident—you’re fine now,” Maria said, waving a hand, and he cast her a sidelong glance.

“Yes, I rather find that healing magic has that effect,” he said drily. “Well, then. Ready, all?”

“Yes,” the other two mages echoed, and this time Dorian tossed a rock into the force of the first spell. Hawke adjusted the second, concentrating on the way it spun, and they all watched the rock turn in midair and shoot off over the dunes. After a moment, there was a distant thud, and the three mages cheered.

“Hang on,” Maria called to Varric. “We’re coming down. It’s time for a break, I think.”

They made their way down the ladder one at a time and Maria drank from her waterskin while she waited for the others. Obviously, she’d known that this would be a desert. She’d known it would be hot, but she hadn’t figured on the air itself being so dry. It felt like she was forever reaching for water to wet her parched throat.

“Drink,” she told the Inquisitor when the other woman reached the ground. Aisling took her waterskin and drank while the two of them moved into the shade.

“There a purpose for this trick of yours?” Varric asked, ducking under the other side of the ruins.

“Always best to keep busy,” Maria told him. “Also, Cullen has banned us from playing with the trebuchet and this is a nice substitute.”

“Well, perhaps part of the problem is that you continue to call it playing with the trebuchet,” Dorian informed her, capping his own waterskin. “Somehow, he found that less charming than the rest of us.”

“Fie,” Hawke said, flicking her braid back over her shoulder. “The man must have a sense of humor somewhere. I’ve just got to dig a little deeper.”

“Well, they are very difficult to manage,” Aisling said absently, examining a patch of reddened skin on her forearm. “They each take a whole team of bronto to move, you see, and calibrating them properly can be very time-consuming.”

Hmm, Maria thought. Varric’s comment about the Commander not meaning the Inquisitor harm came to mind again. The woman was friendly enough that it could mean nothing, but…well. She chose to keep her thoughts to herself.

“In any case,” Hawke said, “this is a suitable substitute. It might even be helpful in the battle to come, I suppose, if your mages can learn it in time.”

They spoke more as they made their way back to the camp, though the latent exhaustion from standing in the sun and working magic for hours gradually slowed the talk to a crawl. The four of them separated as they neared the camp, each stepping away to clean up. When Maria had finally changed into lighter clothing, she heard a soft sound outside her tent.

“Inquisitor?” she called, nudging the mess of clothes under her cot and out of the way.

“Yes,” Aisling replied, “do you have a moment?”

“Of course; come in,” Maria said.

Aisling entered, carrying a small, familiar pot of ointment. Maria would have known it from the smell even if she hadn’t already become very acquainted with it.

“Sunburn?” she asked, holding out a hand, and the Inquisitor nodded miserably. There were already streaks of green over her arms, the skin beneath a bright pink in contrast.

“If you can do your weather trick, I’ll get whatever you can’t reach,” Hawke told her, “or heal any of the blistered pieces, if you’d like.”

“Just the ointment is fine,” Aisling said, sketching runes in the air. The air in the tent cooled gradually, filled by a fresh breeze from nowhere at all. Hawke sighed in relief and took the little jar of ointment from Aisling.

“I should’ve worn longer sleeves,” the elf murmured, sitting on the edge of the cot and tipping her head forward. Maria sat beside her and removed the lid from the jar.

“Probably,” Hawke agreed, carefully smoothing a swathe of elfroot ointment over the back of Aisling’s shoulder. “We’ll have you right as rain soon enough, and it was time well spent nevertheless.”

“Hmm,” Aisling said, and added after a moment. “Are you…feeling better?”

There was a hesitance to the question that Maria understood at once. Do we know each other enough for me to ask? she was saying.

“Yes, somewhat,” Maria admitted, and gathered more sharp-smelling salve. “Thank you—for all the distractions. I am grateful, truly. You’ve been a—a good friend to me.”

“Oh!” Aisling said, glancing back at her. “I’m glad you think so.”

There was a moment of silence. It would have been easy to fill—both of them were fond of talking—but Maria let the silence rest for a moment instead. Sometimes thoughts had to be given space to breathe before they could be spoken aloud. This seemed like one such occasion.

“Before you came,” Aisling said at last, her voice very quiet, “I did not think we would like each other. Everyone—so many of them wanted you instead. Before I became the Inquisitor, I mean. I was so sure you’d know what to do where I don’t. I thought, if you’d been at the Conclave instead…”

“I would have died,” Maria told her, for she’d thought about the same thing many times. “Truly. It had to be you. The Chantry was more than half-convinced that I was personally responsible for what happened in Kirkwall. Can you imagine if I’d been the only one left standing after the death of the Divine? They would’ve killed me outright, even if I’d actually survived the destruction at the Conclave.”

She sighed, setting the little jar aside, and nudged Aisling. The elf turned to look at her, her usual expression replaced by one far more somber.

“When I told you before that you’re doing great, I meant it,” Hawke said, patting the Inquisitor’s hand. “Really. How could anybody look at all you’ve achieved and think otherwise? And that’s just on the surface. Knowing more—knowing some of what happened in Redcliffe—you’ve a great deal to be proud of.”

“Yes,” Aisling said, squeezing her hand in turn. “I was going to say—I was relieved when you didn’t agree with them. I’m glad you came.”

“Me, too,” Hawke said, smiling. “How else would I have thought to put a fully dressed skeleton in a trebuchet? Who else would have painted targets on boulders with me so we could use them for magical experiments?”

Aisling laughed. Some of the serious air dissipated, and their conversation turned to other topics. The time for the battle drew very near—only one more day, perhaps two before they would need to make their assault on the keep. There wouldn’t be much more time for this sort of camaraderie. They couldn’t know what would come next; perhaps much of the world’s brokenness would be fixed after the battle. Perhaps it would grow worse. Either way, she was grateful she��d be facing it down amongst friends.

For months, Hawke had wondered if the rift in the sky was somehow her own fault. Maybe it was. But—now that she’d met the Inquisitor, now that she knew Aisling herself, it was easier to set some of the regret aside. If there was somebody she trusted with the weight of all this, it had to be Lavellan. She had a good head on her shoulders and an earnest interest in understanding how the world worked. If somebody was going to have power over a large swathe of Thedas, Maria’d rather it be someone who wanted to understand why things were the way they were. Also—and this was crucial—she gave excellent hugs.

#maria hawke #aisling lavellan #gift fic #shivunin scrivening #i hope i got her voice right arja!! i wanted this to sort of fit around the piece you wrote as well c:#so sorry this is late

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empty-blog-for-lurking · 2 months

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Hii i know im late but either kuron allura or lance for the ask game thingy you rbed like two days ago?

(i know i always pick these three but idk i just rlly like hearing your thoughts on them<3)

Yay!! I am so sorry this is late. Also heads up this gets long and really salty-

Kuron-

favorite thing about them- He's trying so much! He is not great at it and he was very much Doomed since the beginning and he lost every agency he never had to begin but my god he was Trying! He did not know he was a clone but he felt he that he isnt him and Haggar was still scouting in his head but he was still trying until he couldnt, my god i love him!!

least favorite thing about them- Other than the fact he fucking died??? Kuron babygirl please dont go behind your teams back and dont yell at people, i know you are Going Through It™ but still

favorite line- "Like i am not like myself" HAHAHAHA HAHA FUCKING KILL ME!!! orz

brOTP- Lance and Kuron relationship that lives in my head and has a special place in my heart, also Veronica and Kuron because i am too deep in That au i will make it a thing if only just for that au

OTP- Do i have to answer this one? I guess Kur.ance if you twist my arm but to be honest i still prefer it as platonic or qpr. I am not much of a shipper and he has aroace swag to me. Oh, also Kuron/getting to live as his own person aka the best ship ever

nOTP- I guess Kuron/Keith and Kuron/Lotor? Mostly because my rather uhhh negative opinions on Keith and utter disappointment with Lotor's character and annoyance with both of their stans

random headcanon- i have already talked about him being fan of reading but did you know he also writes sometimes? It is not *great* and almost all of them are wips because he is never sure how to end a story but he is trying

unpopular opinion- if i see one more "Kuron the evil mean clone" i will scream.

Other than- ok. You know how much i love him right? He is one of my favourites and i like him more than Shiro, you know that right? I need you to know and remember that when i say the next part.

Entire clone arc was just not needed. Like you could have had the same effect with Shiro being mind controlled and i personally feel it would have been better. Clone arc just overcomplicated an already messy plot, added even more elements and questions that went absolutely nowhere, left behind a shit load of plot holes, became the final nail in the coffin of Shiro having any possible arc or development, and added a new sympathetic character just to kill him off as a plot device.

And the entire "You are my brother Shiro, i love you" who is it for? Literally who is it for? It would have been much more heart wrenching if it was mind controlled Shiro but we clearly established that is not him. That guy is not Shiro, and Keith as i recall had like 3 on screen conversations with him, 2 of them being strained and then Keith just fucks off with the Blades for most of 3 seasons. It is not for Kuron cause narrative is insistent that he is ~evil~ tool and later on they use his body to get Shiro back. So like, who is it for? Other than to show how sad and angsty and great and amazing writers pet Keith is of course but that is the whole goddamn show.

Like i love him and he did not deserve any of That and i am going to keep making up aus where he lives but the entire pointlessness of clone arc angers me so much

song i associate with them- Being a basic bitch here but Control by Halsey

favorite picture of them-

honestly every scene with him having long hair is just>>>

Allura-

favorite thing about them- Allura is just so genuinely kind, like she goes from one traumatic event after another and loses everything she had and she is rightfully angry and hurt and upset but she still remains kind and does everything so that others dont have to go through what she did and so she sacrifices what little she still had

least favorite thing about them- why is she fucking dead 🥺🥺? Girl wake up, also as much as i love her i am not forgiving her for entire using-Kuron's-body-to-bring-Shiro-back.

favorite line- "So how would you rate your bloodlust level from 1-5?" Let her be silly please!!!!

BrOTP- Allura and Shiro!! Also Allura and Hunk!!! And a number of interactions between Allura and Lance post s3 too!!

OTP- Free my girl hasnt she suffered enough?? (I do have soft spot for early season sha.llura moments and many allurnce moments)

nOTP- i guess l0tura and k@llura? For similar reasons as above

random headcanon- pre-Altea's destruction Allura was the most daredevil person ever. You could dare her to eat a ghost pepper and she'll do it just to prove she can

unpopular opinion- No longer saying 'the situation is much more nuanced' and 'she was traumatized, it is understandable' about the galra reverse racism bs and instead going she was 100% in the right actually. If this fandom can forgive Lotor for getting thousands of alteans murdered and straight up lying to the woman he says he loves about her own people and forgive Keith for abandoning his teammates and almost getting them all killed by claiming they were sad and traumatized than they can also forgive a black coded genocide survivor not liking a race that has been colonizing and murdering the entire universe for 10000 years including her own people

song i associate with them- Queen of Nothing by Crane Wives

favorite picture of them-

Look at her smile

Lance-

favorite thing about them- my boy?? My most favourite boy??? Literally everything?? Ok but seriously i have talked about this before but he is complex to me, i love there is so much duality in him he is someone who is kind would die for a person he met like 2 days ago and did not get along but also is just an absolute obnoxious cunt. He is an emotionally mature guy who understands his own feelings but also is just sooo douchey class clown. He wants to be a cool talented hero, he has the capacity to be that but he wants to be seen as one and in his attempts he ends up screwing himself over and comes out looking as anything but that<33!! And he is loyal and goofy and lovable i love him

least favorite thing about them- i would not have liked this fucker if i met irl specifically s1-s2 him at all. Also the fact they did not even give him an arc like why would you do this to him. Also his fanbase, i cant tolerate 70% of his fanbase and the fact that i still love him is a testimony of my love for him itself given i have hated characters and left fandoms for far less

favorite line- "You ever notice how far the planets are from each other, Coran?" Why did they have the goofball say shit like this if he was meant to be just a goofball

brOTP- Everyone <3, he deserves more friends but mostly Hunk, Kuron, and Allura

OTP- i like most Lance ships actually, though there is a specific han.ce au i have in my head that i adore

nOTP- *sighs* kl4nce. It's just sooo Everywhere, i go to Lance's tag and it is all this ship, nearly every s8 fix-it thinkpiece i have seen moans about how Lance was reduced to Allura's bf only to reduce him to Keith's bf and all of them yell about how the only problem with vld was that kl didnt become canon as if all the racism in the show doesnt even matter, and i am so goddamn tired of this like i cant even joke about Lance having terrible taste in men witjout someone bringing Keith up, and i dont hate the ship (and sometimes i even enjoy it) but i am done with this

Random headcanon- he can play violin pretty well! But he also hates playing violin

unpopular opinion- this is coming from someone who only likes and cares about Lance ships but i think he shouldnt have had a romance arc with anyone. I have said this before but he is so obsessed with keeping facades and the romance loverboy is one of those facades. At most he should have had like last one out of beach city episode from steven universe, where he gets a partner by just being himself instead of the flirty loverboy persona

song i associate with them- Top of the world by Greek fire

favorite picture of them-