#Too metaphoric? Well... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

greypetrel · 11 months

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Beh, I'm bored. Che ne dici di [ SCAR ] for the prompt game? (Lmao now I'm mixing both languages, il cervello è davvero stanco XD)

LOL chiedimi se avevo capito fossi/parlassi italiano. Because I DIDN’T. Ma buonasera! xD And don’t worry for the mix, it’s perfectly fine, pidgins are the best. u_u

Sorry for being late, I didn’t forgot! Again, this took me a while to mull over and think about it… But after much much musing, I decided to delve back into DadWolf AU, interpret it metaphorically and well. It’s angst.

Angst with a bog unicorn. Enjoy, here’s a glass of iced tea.

Somewhere Only We Know. (🎶)

[ SCAR ]: noticing a scar on the receiver’s skin, the sender tentatively stops them from covering it up, and rests a gentle, soft kiss over it.

When they got back from Minrathous, bringing down a friend who was in need of help, they all knew they would have needed time to cope and digest what happened. And after all it was only natural that they couldn’t have taken it well: they had to abruptly cut off their research, take what they could and jump on the first plane, leave everything they worked for in the last years behind and start from scratch. Felix didn’t know anyone in Ferelden beside the two siblings, had a dime to his name, name he couldn’t use without them all being discovered and followed by mages that weren’t as amiable and good natured as he was, and was also, incidentally, terminally ill.

Knowing their different ways to cope with emotions and grief, nothing was exactly a surprise.

It was no surprise noticing how Aisling retreated back in herself academically, refused to do anything substantial and veered her career towards something she liked, but was very inconsequential to a better good. She faced everything on stubbornly and took too much responsibilities, was in the Hospital as much as she could and worked in the weekends to pay for her own rent, refusing to just go back to the family house if not to visit. She looked fine, but some times she just showed up uncalled for, curled on the couch between Solas and Varric and let them both comfort her, saying nothing and, sometimes, crying. That done, she was good to start back, and never backed up. As per her usual.

Dorian, tho, was a whole other matter. He didn’t give in academically and looked for a field of research that was close to what they were doing North. On his own, and with a different team, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t convince Aisling to jump back in, and Felix soon was in no condition to work continuously. Dorian went on nonetheless. Personally, tho, it was clear he was just swiping every negative emotion under a carpet, refusing to even admit there was something wrong. He went to visit Felix once, when it was clear his time was at its limit, and just held onto Aisling, offering her a shoulder to cry on, during the funeral. A small function, just them, the family that helped and some friends there for the siblings. Dorian didn’t cry, he just glowered at the coffin as if it was blaming it for everything. As per his usual.

They all knew that if Aisling appeared weak, the one they should look up more for was Dorian. They all knew he would have broken down, sooner or later. He always did, accumulating stress and bursting. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

The when, it turned out, was a week after the funeral, in the form of a horse-transport van that let out a terrible stench, and parked in front of Varric and Solas’ house one Sunday morning.

“What’s the matter? Did you steal the content of a dumpster?”

Varric asked, stepping on the front porch and looking at his daughter, jumping off of the driver’s seat. It was Dorian, tho, to answer him, in a cheerful tone that was way too enthusiastic to be sincere, as he gingerly turned around the front of the track.

“We’re doing an experiment! Just for fun, like the old times… We need the back garden I think, can we? Of course we can, it’s not like you two are really going to build the swimming pool today, are you.”

He laughed, crossing past his sister and starting to unlock the doors of the back, humming between himself. Weird. Very, very weird. The dwarf exchanged a look with Aisling, still propped against the driver’s door, a silent question passing between them. She just shook her head, a sorrowful bent of her mouth telling him everything the dwarf needed to know before she walked back and started to help her brother.

“Did the garbage truck broke again?” Asked Solas, walking out of the door too, a mug of cocoa in his hand.

“Sparkler’s at his limit.”

“It was about time… Still doesn’t explain the stench.”

“I know as much as you do.”

They stood there, looking at the situation unfurling, ready to help at need. From the back of the truck jumped out a Qunari, panting grossly and loudly complaining that it was the most disgusting thing he ever did. Dorian just swatted every complaint, lamenting that for such a big creature he was surprisingly delicate, and urging them all to just get to work and stop losing precious time, tying a scarf around his nose and mouth and going on chatting about how science demanded strong arms and how it wasn’t a job for the weak of hearts.

The job not for the weak of hearts, was, apparently, dragging down the truck what looked like to be, in fact, the corpse of a black horse, lying on his side, flies buzzing all around and legs rigid that Aisling hat to gently bend to maneuver the hoofs out of the door, huffing loudly, a scarf on her nose and mouth as well, but not saying anything at all.

The horse -a poor, big beast who somehow met his destiny with a dagger crossing his head- got transported with difficulty by the trio, via a plastic cover the corpse was resting over, to the side of the house and in the back garden. Dorian kept on chatting with a glee that was very much unlike anything that was going on, the Qunari -Bull, he got called - replying with sarcasm to everything, and Aisling just silently working, casting glances at Dorian from time to time.

Both Varric and Solas follow them, half curious about what exactly he planned to do with a dead horse, half worried because if there was a shade of weirdness that felt like a scream for help, that was it.

But whatever the experiment was, it was for the siblings alone: when the horse finally was in a position that Dorian deemed optimal, he and Aisling started to chat, in a weird mix of Common and Tevene for the most practical things, circling the animal and discussing. The Qunari, without anything to add to the conversation and looking worried as well, stepped away and approached the pair of spectators.

He introduced himself to the pair as the Iron Bull, the mechanic working on Aisling’s car and owner of the garage on the ground floor of Aisling’s flat building. He was very pleased to finally meet the parents. He accepted something to drink –“Is that hot cocoa?”- and was good company, warming up a quite sceptical Solas too for a hour, before he had to get back to work and excused himself.

He patted Dorian’s shoulder, barely noticed if not physically, and earned a dismissive goodbye by a too concentrated mage. Aisling, tho, jumped up and hugged him tight, with a thank you, before getting back to work.

Qunari gone, the experiment went on as if the two siblings were on their own, with none the wiser and absolutely no neighbour peeking through the windows with big eyes. They all got unused to the experiments, in the years.

Solas, worried, went to offer his help when Dorian started evoking spirits, but Dorian harshly shooed away with the assurance that everything was perfectly under control and he didn’t need to worry, this was way past his comfort zone with spirits. Aisling, today’s silent interpreter and service sister, shook her head when Dorian wasn’t looking, preventing the older elf to reply and start a discussion. Again, damage prevented, the parents got the message that there was nothing they could do save going on with their life and waiting for the situation to unfold.

There was no talking him out for a pause or to stop to have lunch all together. He was in the zone, and not intentioned of stopping any time soon, hands working quickly and brain even faster, tension evident in the way he slouched forward and in the way his shoulders were contracted up to his ears. He hadn’t even insisted to have some sort of blanket, sitting on the grass without minding his clothes or his allergies. Which he never did. Varric brought them some sandwiches and a jug full of iced tea nevertheless - Aisling ate, Dorian didn’t. The afternoon went on like that, a frenzy foreshadowing a big, harsh fall.

When the sun was setting, finally, a neigh rose up from the backyard, loud and clear.

Solas and Varric exchanged one look and rushed back in the kitchen and out of the back door right into the garden.

The horse stood on its hooves, stomping confused and shaking his head -the sword was still planted in it. There were runes and glyphs on its flanks, most Nevarran but with some Tevinter and a couple of Elvhen in it, painted in red chalk. Aisling was standing in front of the animal -zombie?-, cooing soothingly and trying to calm the poor beast down. She managed, caressing his nose and patting his neck until it finally stopped neighing and stomping his hooves and breathing too quickly, with the soft voice she always used for horses, and a tired smile on her face.

“Chuckles-”

“I know.”

“The horse was dead.”

“I know.”

As Varric was totally creeped out, there was pride in Solas’ voice, the usual pride that hadn’t been there ever since the children moved out and moved their crazy experiments in a laboratory, out of the house. It was disconcerning, but the horse looked, indeed, alive enough to, slowly, take trust and start nuzzling Aisling’s hand as a normal horse would. Well, there were some issues for him in opening his mouth, but the animal clearly did his best.

“What- Is that… Normal? Possible?”

“Very difficult. But yes. I didn’t know he studied Necromancy of all things…”

“Necr- Oh, shit. Did he-?”

“No. There’s a Spirit inhabiting the horse. Not the original soul. Still, the body can move.”

The Necromancer, tho, in spite of the success, was still sitting on the grass on his butt, legs folded in front of him and back slouched forward and down, not looking at the horse but at his hands in his lap, totally frozen on the spot. A minute later, Aisling reached him, leaving the horse to explore the new surroundings and its new life as she sat beside him.

Their hands were dirty and the foul stench of dead horse soaked their very clothes. Dorian, tho, had lost every willingness to complain.

“He’s fine, I think. What about Ugo? Ugo the Unicorn.” Aisling proposed, scooting close so they were side by side on the grass, shoulders and hips touching.

“Whatever, I don’t care. It’s yours if you want him, I… I just needed to know that-”

He snorted, shaking his head harshly as he grimaced, not concluding the sentence.

“I know, Dor.”

“I could have saved him.”

“You couldn’t have, Dor. That’s not the horse. There was nothing to do.”

“There’s always something to do… If I… If we-”

His voice broke, and her heart as well, all over again.

“We helped him as we could, Dor. We got him out, we were with him until the end. He knew, he never blamed you, he wouldn’t blame you now.”

“I’ve been a coward. I left him alone, and-”

That’s when Dorian started to cry, breath strangled as he unfolded and bends forward, curling on himself and sobbing loudly. Aisling was there to catch him - she had waited that moment ever since he had showed up to her flat, entering with his key and had explained the experiment to her, she was surprised it took so long. She hugged him tight, dragging his bust against hers and holding him as tight as she could. She started to cry too, for company.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. He knew. It’s ok. You did your best, and it was enough. He wasn’t alone.”

He unfurled and hugged his sister back, bawling in her shoulder, months of pressure and regrets and fear finally catching up with him, all together. There was no undoing what happened: the work they had done for the wrong people, in good faith, the escape, running back in the night like thieves, a luggage full of notes and papers prioritized over clothes and personal belongings. A PhD totally lost and to be gained again from scratch, and bringing Felix with them knowing they had no money and his days were counted. Starting from zero and separating in work for the first time. It all had left a scar, in both of them: they just had different ways to manifest it, different ways to cope, and different ways to help the other with it, of metaphorically healing the hurt with a kiss.

And for the first time in years since they left, dragged inside by Solas and Varric who were there too to catch him, coax him to have some dinner and take a shower and coze up all together on the couch, with a movie and blankets. For the first time in years they weren’t alone.

#dragon age #dadwolf au #science bros #bog unicorn #dragon age fic #da:i #writing petrel #aisling lavellan #dorian pavus #solas #varric tethras #fic #da fic #Too metaphoric? Well...

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commsroom · 7 months

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the opening of into the depths - the thought experiment about the swamp - sticks in my head, because, well. because it's interesting why it's stuck in hera's head.

narratively, of course, it serves two purposes: 1) to frame and present a question about what happened to lovelace, and 2) to connect what is currently happening to lovelace to what hera experiences when she reboots. (which: combined with the ways lovelace is also paralleled to eris, one of an infinite potential iterations of herself, serving a similar purpose for the dear listeners that eris does for goddard - there is even a perspective from which you could argue lovelace is herself "an AI" that i think presents some interesting questions. regardless, the struggle lovelace and hera share in having their humanity recognized is deeply significant to me.)

in-universe, though: why was that thought experiment put in hera's head, for her to think about while she reboots? well. lovelace's s4 arc centers on a certain type of self doubt: she fears a loss of self, of personal identity and continuity of experience, and she fears it's already happened. if hera thinks about this thought experiment as she reboots - does she fear the same? does part of her always worry that the version of her that comes back online is not the same as before? i think that's the purpose.

part of it may be general cruelty, in the same way pryce threatens to give her "a new recurring nightmare" as punishment, but making hera doubt her continuity of experience feels like a very intentional aspect of how she's been dehumanized - it encourages her not to think of herself as a full person, and casts doubt on her future. consider ep 52, where hera hasn't done a full reset of her personality program in months, and is notably hesitant to. or ep 48, where she initially votes against leaving (which is emotionally complicated for multiple reasons, but that's a whole other topic.) it's not the only factor, but i believe hera has lovelace's identity crisis in mind, and i think that casts a certain light on these interactions.

most importantly: these things are not true. she's being emotionally manipulated. obviously. but the fear, i think, is very real, especially in the context of trauma. lovelace's death and resurrection as a clone of herself, from a more metaphorical standpoint, is a strong emotional representation of having been changed, on some unseen but fundamental level, by trauma. lovelace fears that she can't go home because she's already died, and whoever she is now is just something else trying really hard to be isabel lovelace. hera has a hard time imagining a life on earth because she's never really had one, but i think part of her also fears she can't go back because of how it might change her - it's not that she prefers things the way they are, but she fears she'd lose something fundamental and be a different person if her circumstances changed. both of them returning home, and having futures in spite of that fear, means something to me.

#wolf 359 #w359 #hera wolf 359 #isabel lovelace #i think it's effective because both of these concepts absolutely have been treated more cynically by other media #so having them portrayed here as primarily distorted thinking #when the show itself. i think. well i think there's a reason why we only ever know one captain lovelace and why our perception of her #fits into that continuity of self.#i don't want to lean too far into metaphor but i do think the emotional resonance and personal arcs of these characters are what matter #far more than anything speculative.

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