#he’s saying yeah i guess anders does seem like a good mage and a good man. thats the only commonality he would jump to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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The Raven with Silver Wings

I’m having so much fun writing Elise! She’s so different than Fane, and I thought that that would make it hard to write her, but it may have been just what I needed to get me inspired again!

As such, I wrote a really, really, really long story with every member of the Awakening crew because Elise found a second family with all of them when her first was whisked away by either her decisions or general life and pursuits. (And bonus Nathaniel x Warden because HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ROMANCEABLE DAMMIT!)

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The Raven with Silver Wings

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/Warden Amell

Warnings: None

Word count: We don’t talk about it. *smiles*

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“Has anyone ever told you that your hair’s really pretty, Commander?”

Elise was currently rearranging the books along the far wall of the main hall when the question was asked, her task halted as she turned to look over her shoulder, but saw no one. She looked around a bit, still seeing no one before the clearing of a throat had her shooting her gaze downwards from where she was standing on a small stool.

“Oh! Sigrun!”, Elise said, gingerly making her way down the small ladder to speak with her dwarven friend more personally. “I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there!” Quite literally. How she continued to forget she had dwarves as Wardens was a mystery. She had constantly done the same thing in Orzammar, and she had known there were dwarves around her.

“It’s all good, Commander!”, Sigrun assured with a small laugh, tattoos on her face wrinkling from her smile. “If I’m easy to miss by your sharp senses, then that means I’m doing something right with my training!”, a sense of pride from the dwarven woman making Elise smile despite the guilt she felt. Sigrun was always so boisterous and lively, not at all someone she would have associated with the Legion when they first met.

“I’m still sorry. I tend to get wrapped up in whatever I’m doing and forget where I am.”, Elise apologized, dusting off her trousers from where she had leaned against the bookshelf. Sigrun tilted her head.

“What exactly were you doing up there?”, she asked, curious eyes looking up at where she had been fussing. “Cleaning?”

Elise nodded, smiling. “Pretty much. I always dusted the shelves in the Circle when I had time between lessons.”, she said, voice taking on a somber tone as she remembered her old home, sorrow and longing intermixing. “I used to find lost books and scrolls, and it was relaxing for me.”

A look of understanding crossed Sigrun’s face. “Ahh, so it’s like a hobby?”, she said, head tilting once more. That constant curiosity and interest always made Elise happy. It reminded her of the children in the Circle, wide eyed and in awe of new findings. She knew Sigrun was no child, but her exuberance reminded her of one sometimes.

Elise hummed, lifting a hand to wiggle her hand back and forth. “Sort of.”, she agreed, somber tone dispersing with the light banter. “I certainly wouldn’t categorize it as a chore or arduous task, so hobby would work!”

Her dwarven compatriot hummed, tapping her chin in thought. “Kind of like how Anders tries to collect cats every time we’re out.”

Elise blinked, brows furrowing. “How..so?”, she asked slowly. She didn’t see the correlation. Anders’...habit of trying to start a shelter in the Vigil wasn’t really a ‘hobby’ it was more of… Honestly, she didn’t know. It was intense, though.

And arduous for the rest of us. She thought with increasing exasperation, remembering the last time the Keep had been almost flooded with stray cats and kittens. Elise adored Anders like a brother, but, sometimes, he was too much, but in an endearing way. An exhausting, tiring, endearing way.

Sigrun shrugged with a smile. “He says cats relax him. Cleaning bookshelves relaxes you!”, she said, clapping her hands together which made Elise startle a bit. “Put those two together, and voila! Hobby!”, she declared, nodding with pride at her connection.

Elise blinked, mouth gaping a bit before simply nodding. She guessed she could see the connection now, but...you know what? She was just going to let the Legionnaire have this one. She looked so happy, so proud, and it would be wrong to spoil that with harsh reality. The reality that Anders’ ‘hobby’ was more of an obsession. One that had Nathaniel nearly strangling the mage after finding a slew of kittens hidden in one of the sheds. Those happenings usually resulted in her having to mediate between the two men lest she be short two Wardens. Thankfully, Nathaniel always relented quickly when she gave him ‘the look’. The one she reserved for when she was deathly serious, but Anders knew her better, knowing how she was as a child in the Circle, so he poked, teased, and literally, pinched her cheeks with little coos of, ‘Little Ellie is all grown up~ I’m so proud~!’.

Those happenings usually abated when she pulled out electricity, and then Nathaniel had to be the mediator as he physically took her from the room.

Despite her exasperation at the memory, Elise could only smile with a shake of her head before stilling, noticing Sigurn was watching her with another curious glint in her eyes. Another bout of connecting the dots, would it be?

“Sigrun?”, she asked, tilting her head a bit to where her long hair cascaded over her shoulder. She had decided to leave it out of her braids today, finding it easier and healthier, sometimes, to leave it freely flowing. She absently brought a hand up to card through the raven waves, blinking when Sigrun’s face lit up, eyes following the action. What was that look about?

“I said it earlier, but your hair is suuuuper pretty! And long!”, the dwarven woman exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across her face. “How do you get it that long?”, another question, another bout of dizzying, but welcome concepts.

Elise chuckled softly, understanding now. “A lot of time. A lot of brushing. And a loooot of staying away from large amounts of fire.”, she divulged, twirling a lock around a finger out of habit and running a pad of a finger against a tip, feeling its paintbrush type softness was slightly rough. She would need to trim it soon. “Why do you ask? Thinking about growing out your locks~?”, she asked, eyes flitting along Sigrun’s own head of short, raven hair.

Sigrun let out a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, Ancestors, no! I’d probably trip over it if my hair was as long as your’s!”, she said, smiling all the while. “I was just wondering if there was a story behind it!”

Elise tilted her head, still playing with the ends of her hair. “Story?”, she inquired. A story..behind her hair? That was an interesting question.

“Yeah! Most things have a story tied to them! Like is there a reason you like your hair long, or do you just like it...well, long!”, an innocent question filled with new world wonder and unwavering friendliness, two things that made Elise feel like she was right where she belonged, but right now, she also felt warm as her hair undoubtedly held a story within shimmering raven that sometimes glinted with deep blue.

Elise brought the bulk of her hair forward, combing through it with a nostalgic smile. “I guess, in a way, I wanted to be..different.”, she said, deftly beginning to braid a tiny piece. “In the Circle, you were allowed long hair, but it was advised against due to fire and chemical components potentially scorching it, and in turn, your head. If you had it, you tied it up to keep it safe.”, she moved onto another small braid, eyes going hooded with contentment as noire locks glided through her fingers.

“So, you wanted to be a little rebel?”, Sigrun questioned, smile softening as she could tell the memory and reasoning was indeed a story.

Elise nodded, moving onto the next braid. “The Circle was my home. I had a better time than most within its walls, but such isolation, disconnection, makes you yearn to break the mold.”, she said, stopping her braiding for a moment to close her eyes, willing away memories of blindness and blood before reopening them to resume. “I wanted something that defined me as me, and the Enchanters always complimented my hair, so I let it shape me. I was the tower’s ‘little raven’, even though my wings were clipped.”

“But not anymore, right?”, her friend and ally offered, a knowing smile on her face as glittering eyes regarded her with respect and awe. Elise honestly felt as if she didn’t deserve such...loyalty, but she was grateful for it when her own had been severely tested in the past.

She nodded with a warmer smile. “Right. I’m not grounded anymore.”, she affirmed, sighing with contentment as she combed out each braid gingerly, silky locks like water on her fingers. “I’m free to flow as freely as my hair does.”

“That’s the Commander I know and love!”, Sigrun cried with exuberance before leaning towards her a bit, lips pursed with a question. Elise blinked before laughing softly. This woman would always keep her on her toes, wouldn’t she?

“You can touch it if you want?”, she offered, already knowing precisely what the dwarven woman wanted with how two of her fingers tapped together as well as how her gaze was fixated on the shimmering wave of her hair. She wasn’t put off by people wanting to touch her hair, as long as they asked, of course.

“Can I?!”, Sigrun cried in disbelief, eyes like saucers as her hands stilled in their anxious butting.

Elise nodded, giggling. “Mm-hm! Maybe one morning you could help me brush it?”, she offered more, tilting her head and smiling as wide eyes went even wider. She hoped the orbs wouldn’t dislodge from how large they seemed. That would not be a pretty sight. Then again, nothing was worse than Broodmothers. Broodmothers were...awful. The image nearly made Elise shudder, but was able to ward it off as Sigurn bounded up to her, nodding her head all the while.

“You..”, the dwarven woman said as she bounced towards her. “Are..”, another bounce, another step. “The..”, another, larger bounce closing the distance between them. “Best!”, a cry of praise as careful, but excited hands came to tentatively stroke at a few locks, mouth going agape.

Elise couldn’t help but laugh, leaning down a bit more to give Sigrun better access. “I don’t know about that, but thank you all the same, Sigrun. I really don’t deserve everyone here..”, she admitted, gaze shifting downwards sheepishly and with gentle shame. The hand petting her hair stilled, coming up to lightly tap her cheek in reprimand. She blinked, shifting her gaze back to see exuberance and joy replaced with firmness and admonishment.

“You deserve every bit, Commander.”, Sigrun told her, putting her hands on her hips. “Sod what everyone else says, you’ve done more than they deserve! You’re funny, kind, sharp, bright, and one hell of a Warden! You killed an Archdemon, for crying out loud!”, the praise continued, Elise feeling her cheeks heat up at the fierceness as they were delivered. “And you gave me a chance when I was so ready to scurry off and die in the dark, forgotten and unmourned like the Legion’s oath declares.”, fierce tone turning somber, but grateful. “So, don’t talk like you don’t matter, either. Because it’s not the truth.”

Elise stared in awe at the woman before her before her face broke out into a wobbly grin, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. She was going to start balling! She had felt this companionship before with Leli, with Morrigan, with Zev, even with Sten and Shale, and Oghren, too, but she had nearly forgotten what it felt like after nearly two years disconnected from them all! Oghren was still with her, thankfully, but the only others she had managed to keep in contact with was Zev and Leli, Morrigan’s whereabouts unknown, as well as Shale’s, and Sten back home where he always wanted to go. Loghain, someone she never believed she would grow close to, but had, was off in Orlais, her influence and own personal pleas unable to keep him where he belonged. And Wynne and Alistair...well, those were strained when they had otherwise been full of affection and warmth, and it was why she felt she didn’t deserve another chance of...of a family. But yet, here it was, as surely as the Vigil was physically.

Elise sniffled a bit, a few tears escaping. “T..Thank you, Sigrun.”, he said, eternally grateful as more tears escaped.

Sigrun’s eyes widened in panic and concern, hands flailing around her. “Ahh, you’re crying? Did I say something wrong?! I said something wrong, didn’t I?!”

Elise shook her head, laughing, full of light and air. “No, no!”, she assured, wiping at her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt. “You said everything right. I promise.” It was what she needed to hear, having begun her hobby of cleaning as a way to distract herself from such distressing feelings. Sigrun visibly relaxed, letting out a heavy sigh before giving her a relieved smile.

“Ohh, good! I got worried!”, the rogue exclaimed, reaching up to give her arm a pat and a rub. “I’ll keep the mushy stuff to a minimum from now on, though! I don’t like seeing you cry, even if they are ‘happy’ tears.”, making air quotes around the word ‘happy’.

Elise giggled, steadily calming down to where she wasn’t sniffling anymore. “Wouldn’t want the Legion thinking you’ve gone soft, would we?”, she teased.

“Definitely not! That’ll get me kicked out!”, a joke in reciprocation making them both laugh before a large clattering sound came from beyond one of the adjacent doors, both she and Sigurn jumping in surprise. “Uhh, what was that?”, Sigrun asked, hands already inching towards one of her daggers. Elise, herself, could feel sparks dancing across her fingertips, readying to unleash a bolt on a darkspawn before a cacophony of voices had her magic dissolving back into the Veil in an instant.

She only wished it would have been a darkspawn.

“Give me the cat, Anders!”, Nathaniel’s voice boomed from behind the door, furious clambering of two pairs of feet signaling a pursuit.

“Her name is Madame Whiskers McMeow, and you’ll address her as such!”, Anders’ voice came next, indignant and appalled by the lack of courtesy before a squawk rang true. “Ah! Not the robes, not the robes!”

“Then give me the--Justice, move!”, her Second’s voice addressing another, meaning there was even more to the picture than either she or Sigrun could see, and truthfully, maybe they both didn’t want to see.

“This is unjust treatment, son of Howe.”, Justice’s voice sounded in its normal, but odd echoing way, the vocal cords powered by Fade energy rather than by natural force. “The creature has done no harm; it should be allowed to stay.”

“Hah! Two against one! I win!”, Anders barked, pride oozing from his voice.

“You didn’t even know what a cat was the other day, so you can’t say it stays!”

“It is wrong to throw a helpless creature out into the elements when it has done no crime except existing!”, a bellow making the walls echo with its timbre. “The Warden-Commander brought you in, did she not?!” Elise shook her head, not even part of the conversation beyond the door, but feeling the need to declare so. She wanted no part of this!

“I’m not a stray cat! And don’t bring Elise into this!”, Nathaniel defended her, unknowing that she was waiting beyond the door when this ‘catfight’ would come rolling to where she and Sigrun were still standing, but with twitching lips, trying not to smile or laugh.

“She is the figure of authority within the Vigil, yes? Then she should be the judge!”

“Ohh, no, no, no!”, Anders butt in again rapidly. “Ellie’ll make me get rid of Madame Whiskers McMeow to a farmhold again! I’m with dour sour on that one!”

Elise felt her eyebrow twitch at the insult in Anders’ voice. What was wrong with a farmhold?! There were plenty of mice for the cats! She would love to keep each kitten and cat the mage brought back, but it wasn’t safe! At least in the wild they could scurry off and hide!

“Don’t try and kiss up to me, Anders!”

“Oh, I’m not the one who gets your kisses, even though I--!”, a screech cutting Anders’ typical poking as a ripping sound made Elise wince and slowly shut her eyes, knowing precisely what that was. “The robes! Not the robes! These cost a fortune!”

“The healer’s bill is going to cost a fortune if you don’t give me the damn cat!”, more clattering and shattering glass vibrating through the Keep at those words. Elise shot a glance down at Sigrun, the woman giving her a shrug and pout that said, ‘I dunno.’

“Are you imbeciles done tearing up the Vigil with your barbarism?!”, another voice, one that Elise immediately recognized as Velanna’s, rang with authority and sheer disgust. The fun never ended it seemed.

“Not even close!”, Anders quipped in sing song, but screeched again as another tear occurred. “Do you really want me naked?!”

“No, we do not.”, Justice denied flatly before his voice rose. “Cease this onslaught, Howe!”

“Not until he gives me the CAT!”, Nathaniel roared.

“This is unjust!”

“Yeah, it is! I feel like I’m being chased by templars again, except more exciting!”

“Do I need to summon the earth to shut you all up!?”

Elise stood transfixed, eyes glued to the door as the commotion grew closer and closer to where she and Sigrun were. She cast her gaze downwards a few times as if to say, ‘Should I?’ Sigrun only shrugged like before, but smirked as she tried to hold back a laugh from the whole situation. She wished she could feel such mirth, but she only felt tired from how much of a mess the room beyond would be once she opened the door. Elise sighed as the raucous noise continued, coming to a decision.

“I am the Commander, aren’t I?”, she bemoaned, dragging her feet along the plush carpets that would indelibly be sullied the moment she opened the door, but she placed her hand on the handle all the same, a crash making it rattle before a sigh passed her lips again. The movement of Sigrun running to the side to not get caught in the tidal wave had a slight smirk forming on her lips, but she schooled it as the handle was turned. “This is more dread inducing than the Archdemon was..”

The moment Elise began to open the door, she had to stagger back, succeeding in tripping and falling rump first onto the stone floor with a wince as two male bodies, a fluffy white cat held up in the one with a bored expression on its pretty face, and the other pinning that one down with furious glint in steel colored eyes, face hard, came tumbling through its opening.

“The cat, Anders!”, Nathaniel commanded, pressing his elbow into the mage’s shoulder blades to keep him in place. Anders only let out a laugh before releasing the cat, who bolted like a snowy flurry into the recesses of the Keep.

“Be free, Madame Whiskers McMeow! Bend to no one!”, the mage cackled in victory as Elise saw Nathaniel’s face go deadpan with silent fury and aggravation. Oh, that wasn’t a good look. She knew that look, and it was usually reserved for the haughty recruits.

“I’m going to kill you.”, a threat coming out like a hiss, to which Ander only laughed again, lifting his blonde head, ponytail almost completely undone just like his robes almost were. Elise had to flit her gaze about to not land upon unmentionables.

“Do it.”, Anders challenged, smirk on his face. “You won’t~! Not when your lady love is watching~”, amber eyes flashed over to her, seemingly knowing she was there the whole time.

Nathaniel’s furious expression fell at that, grey eyes instantly flitting about until it caught sight of her, the orbs widening when they saw her on the ground.

“El--Warden-Commander!”, Nathaniel corrected his exclamation deftly, but only because he probably knew she was not in the mood for sweet nothings as she could feel her face give ‘the look’. “This is..uh..”

“His fault!”, Anders piped up and was rewarded with a sharp push of Nathaniel’s elbow in his shoulder blades. “Eee, easy with the massage!”

Elise sighed, face going lax as she fell backwards onto the floor. She couldn’t keep up the bravado any longer as a bubbling, warm, tight feeling began to fill her chest with light.

“El!”, Nathaniel’s voice came again, formality thrown to the wind as hurried footsteps rushed over to her, Anders letting out an ‘oof’.

“Looks like you’ve successfully broken our Warden-Commander.”, Velanna’s voice came from the open door, dry and just as exhausted as Elise felt, even as her chest tightened further with air. Why did she feel so...light while feeling so tired?

“She held on longer than most of those who claimed to be just and righteous. I cannot help but applaud her tenacity when dealing with such adversities.”, Justice’s voice came next, also from the door.

“Oh, she’s fine!”, Anders assured, a slight wince escaping his lips as Elise heard him shift, supposedly looking to sit up. “She’s just about to laugh is all!” Was that what she was about to do? It kind of felt like it, but..

“What--?”, Nathaniel began to question, but was cut off as a loud crash came from down the hall, the door behind them swinging open to hit the stone wall harshly.

Elise let her head lull backwards to see Oghren staggering through the threshold, a tankard in one hand and eyes wide with panic, but she felt anything but alarmed as the words that poured from his mouth, as surely as the mug of ale in his hand did, had her breaking.

“The schleets are real! I saw them! I sodding saw them!”, Oghren exclaimed, eyes darting around before they landed on his trousers which were...around his ankles before he let out a screech, shuffling back through the door while screaming. A collective series of groans echoed through the room before they silenced when Elise let out a loud screech of laughter, making her roll over on her side as the force shook her.

“O..Oh..Oh, Maker!”, she howled, tears kissing the corners of her eyes as she dissolved into snorts and giggles. “Ah..ahahaha!”, curling up more as her stomach began to hurt, but she didn’t care! She felt so light, so happy! It was wonderful even though the Keep was a mess!

“See?”, Anders’s voice broke through her laughter filled hearing, only making her laugh more at its familiarity and warmth. “Told you she was gonna laugh like a banshee.”

“Humans.”, Velanna scoffed, but her tone was fond. “I’m going back to work.”, footsteps issuing her departure.

“Peculiar. She seemingly cannot breathe, but continues to engage in the act. I will have to think on this.”, Justice mused, muttering a bit more as his footsteps, too, ebbed away from her hearing.

“Okay, Commander~”, Anders drawled, coming into her tear veiled view, a friendly smirk on his face and hands on his hips as amber eyes gazed down at her warmly. “Might want to let yourself breathe. I have some amazing magical powers, I know, but I don’t dabble in necromancy!”, he joked, only succeeding in making her laugh more. Sweet Andraste! She felt like she was going to puke, but again, she didn’t care! She hadn’t laughed like this, loudly screeching and tears in her eyes, since before the Blight!

“Ahaha!”, Elise cackled, rolling over onto her other side so harshly that warm, sturdy hands had to stop her from going too far. She looked up to see Nathaniel regarding her warmly, a smirk replacing the furious scowl she had seen earlier. It made her break out into girlish giggles, face heating up from the general sight of her lover.

“A mess.”, Nathaniel said with a shake of his head, a smirk turning into a smile as he kept a hand on her shaking shoulder. “What will the nobility say?”

“T..That..ahah..I..I’m o..obviously..having..having a good time!”, Elise managed to get out, sucking in deep breaths to calm herself. Oh, yeah, she needed to breathe! She felt dizzy and light and flighty, but also happy, undeniably happy!

“That you are, my love.”, the man next to her giggling form said, rolling his eyes with that quip of fondness and adoration.

“Ooo, that look in grey eyes tells me some alone time is necessary!”, Anders piped up, deftly dodging a swipe from Nathaniel, backpedaling to stand next to where Sigrun was watching the whole display with amusement and smile. “Don’t you say, Sigrun?”, the mage winking at the dwarven woman.

“Oh, yeah, definitely!”, Sigrun said, nodding sagely before grabbing a hold of Anders’ arm to disappear through the door with a wave. “Have fun, you two! I’m gonna go get this weirdo in some clothes and get him started on cleaning up!”

“Wait, what?!”, a squawk from Anders nearly sent her into a fit of giggles again, but a finger against her lips had them simmering down with a shaky, content sigh.

Elise laid on the floor as only she and Nathaniel remained, but she felt anything but abandoned, knowing her allies, her friends, her family was lurking within, bright, alive, and present with their myriad of personalities and peculiarities. Her family was strange, but then again, her whole life to this point had been strange. She let out another sigh, eyes hooded as she gazed up at her Second, who was watching her with so much affection and warmth that Elise felt that she could nearly burst from all the emotions running through her.

“All good? Do I need to do mouth to mouth?”, he offered with a raised eyebrow, grey eyes simmering like hot coals and expression carrying that same heat. Elise giggled, slowly pushing herself up to sit before him on equal ground.

“Mm, I don’t think so, but you could, if you’re really worried~”, she teased, inching closer to fall into awaiting arms, their warmth and stability making her heart race, but wonderfully so.

“Just for peace of mind, I’ll do it.”, Nathaniel declared with a drop in his voice, brushing a bit of her disheveled hair away from her face as he pulled her closer, immediately capturing her lips in a kiss that had residual mirth fluttering away to allow soft want and desire to take center stage.

Elise let out a tiny hum, fully intent on losing herself in the kiss as it left her feeling even lighter, soft where the edges were sharp, and unbelievably warm, but the cute, but small sound of ‘Mrow!’ had her pulling away to look down, feeling Nathaniel continue his kisses, but against the side of her hair, completely unphased by why she had disconnected.

“Why, hello, Madame Whiskers McMeow~”, Elise greeted the petite, fluffy white cat with large gold eyes looking up at them with a smile, tail swishing majestically. She let out a soft laugh when the cat ‘Mrow’d’ again, patting the chest she was resting against. “Aww, I like her!”

“We are not keeping another one, El.”, Nathaniel growled against the side of her head, giving her a light squeeze.

“Ser Pounce a Lot could use a lady!”, she argued, feeling far more amenable than usual to have another family member. “Then they could have babies!”, excitement filling her with a gasp as she whipped her head up to look at her Second, some of her hair smacking him in the face to which she reached up to dislodge some. “Oops! Sorry..”, turning sheepish with her apology. Yeah, she really needed to trim her hair.

“Do you really want to keep her, or are you just being ‘spur of the moment El’?”, Nathaniel asked with that same deadpan expression, but there was a spark of mirth and relent within piercing steel.

Elise nodded, smiling. “I do. We have the room, and she seems a stalwart breed~”, she cooed, turning her attention back to the Madame, reaching down to scratch under her chin softly. She giggled softly when a resounding purr followed from that. “Who’s a pretty kitty~? I’m going to a commission you a collar with a griffin bell~”

“You’re worse than Anders.”, her bastion grumbled, but let her go, knowing when he was bested and when to surrender to her will. “But fine. If it makes you happy, I’ll resist the urge to strangle the mage, but I’m not going to be the one to tell him we’re keeping her.” Elise let out a laugh, turning her gaze away from fluffy snow as it wandered away, instinctual curiosity taking hold of a feline mind.

“Every one here makes me happy.”, she told the man gazing down at her with all the love and respect she could only have dreamed of once upon a time. “Including you, unfortunately~”, reaching up to poke at a nose with a cheeky grin. She let out a resounding laugh when her poked bear let out a growl and grabbed a hold of her hand, smirking goodnaturedly all the while.

“That’s toeing the line towards beratement, Commander.”, Nathaniel quipped, giving her a hand a light kiss. “Do I need to report to Weisshaupt to have your cat owning privileges revoked?”

“I’ve heard worse threats from a genlock, Howe~”, Elise punched back, leaning up to lay a soft kiss upon smirking lips. “Don’t make me get the electricity out~”, a tease, a promise as sparking as the affinity for which was her primary weapon.

“What if I want you to get the electricity out?”, a firmer kiss against her lips making Elise sigh, the sparks beginning to ignite as she was pulled closer, tighter, and a hand laid upon her back.

“Then..”, she purred as surely as the cats within their halls. “...be a good Warden and go clean up your mess~”, the request a warning amid heat and euphoric promises. The adjacent room was still a mess after all, and she wasn’t going to clean it up, no matter how many kisses Nathaniel gave her. Elise watched as her Second blinked, haze dispersing from the order before he let out a tired sigh, shaking his head with a chuckle soon after.

“As you say, Commander.”

Elise smiled cheerily. “Love you~!”, she chirped. Another chuckle, another light kiss against her temple making her melt was all the reciprocation she needed.

Within the halls of duty and sacrifice, where countless potential family members had been lost to cruel fate or just bad luck, she was loved and she loved in turn. And she felt no shame in that. Painful longing and bitter memories would test that, but would never make it untrue. She was free to fly as much as raven locks did, even as they housed the inevitable end they all faced, but never alone. Never alone, never again. No matter what the end would bring, only light would guide her into darkness, blue and silver swarming her vision as the family stood, waiting, with outstretched arms for her to fall into them when her wings could no longer carry her. Until then, she would fly, she would glide, and she would shield those who had defied fate to stand beside her. This was her home, for now and forever.

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#i'm so happy with this #it's the most characters i've used in a fic yet!#i hope i got them all in character #my daughter deserves the world just like fane does #she's been through enough ;3;#dragon age #oc: elise amell #nathaniel howe #anders #oghren #velanna #justice #sigrun #my writing #my fanfiction #dragon age fanfiction #nathaniel howe x warden amell #warden amell #dragon age awakening

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misscricket · 4 years

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Your Mouth Makes The Prettiest Noises (When You're Pissing Me Off)

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Canders (Carver Hawke / Anders)

Rating: R for Smut

Prompt: @dankou ‘You’re Hot When You’re Mad’.

Request: You can request a pairing here for Carver smut prompts.

AO3 Link HERE

Your Mouth Makes The Prettiest Noises (When You're Pissing Me Off)

The doors to the Hanged Man crashed open.

Instantly everyone in the tavern looked up, and took in the sight of the dark haired man standing in the double doorway, arms still outstretched and a grin on his handsome face. Most of the patrons recognised him as Garrett Hawke and looked away again, some rolling their eyes at the man’s drama.

Behind him, another dark haired man followed, sighing as he did.

“Must you do that?”

“Course I do, little brother,” Garrett grinned back at him as they made their way across the common room floor and up the stairs to Varric’s private suite, “Hello darlings!” he caroled as he crossed the threshold, spreading his arms again, “Daddy’s home! And look what the mabari dragged in!”

Carver pulled a horrified face behind his back, and slowly slipped into the room behind him.

“Carver!” Isabela waved at him with a wink, “My, my, the Wardens have done wonders with you.”

Beside her Varric chuckled, but nearby Fenris stood up abruptly, “Good,” he barked, voice sharp with annoyance, and for a moment Carver felt disappointment stab through him. Fenris had never seemed to like him, despite his best efforts. He’d hoped things might change, now that he was coming back as a Warden. But then the elf continued, “You can talk to him .”

There was a world of venom in his voice when he spat that word, and Carver blinked, before stepping further into the room to take in the shape of Anders sitting across the table from the irate elf.

“Oh Maker, do I have to?”

A corner of Fenris’ lips quirked up, “Yes. It is your punishment for making your brother worry about you. Sit.”

Carver elected to ignore the comment about his brother, who was currently tapping his fingers on Merrill’s shoulders, while she grinned up at him, and slowly made his way over to take Fenris’ place across the table.

Anders looked older than the last time he’d seen him, more cares worn into his face, and his golden eyes seemed to have lost some of their brightness. He also looked thinner, and Carver shot a glare at his brother. Surely he must have noticed…

“Let me guess.” he turned back to Anders, and smirked faintly, “You were talking about Mages.”

“Of course we were!” Anders scowled at him, “He can’t see how the situation of the Mages here is akin to slavery.”

Carver rolled his eyes, “Except...it isn’t.”

Anders’ eyes locked onto him, and there was a bit more life in his face, and his eyes.

“Andraste’s arse, are you still so bitter about your brother that you can’t look at the reality of the situation!”

Carver felt the old irritation flare, but instead he leaned back in his seat.

“No, I just think you have a terrible habit of using gross simplification to try and emotionally manipulate people into feeling pity for you.”

Anders’ feathers seemed to bristle with profound rage, and nearby, Carver saw Fenris shoot him a thoughtful look.

“How can you-?” Anders spluttered.

“Easily,” Carver leaned forward, “Look I don’t think the Circle is perfect. And the Templar Order is definitely not. And change does need to happen, you’re right about that much at least. But the fact of the matter is that just chucking the Mages out on their own, or treating them as everyone else is...well its stupid.”

“Your brother…”

“Was trained by my father.” Carver interrupted, firmly, “Who was Circle trained and knew exactly what to expect from young children discovering their magic.”

And they had me, he thought silently, the old anxiety clutching his chest before he pushed it ruthlessly away. He was a Warden now, he was no longer the one tasked with that...burden.

“The Templars could have dragged your father and your siblings to the tower.” Anders insisted, “You never would have seen them again. They might have been made Tranquil.”

“It’s not perfect.” Carver leaned back, “But the Templar order is something that in essence is needed. They are supposed to protect the mages...and protect from them as well. But with everything...it can so easily be corrupted by men with their own ideas. Men will always abuse high ideals to get what they want. But that doesn’t make the ideal wrong.”

Anders spluttered at him, and Isabela whistled softly, “Look who’s all grown up…” She leaned in with a wicked grin, “Who knew debating Mage theology could be so….stimulating.”

Carver shook his head at her, and turned back to Anders, who launched into his counter argument. Which Carver zoned out to after a single second because...sodding hell…

There was something about Anders. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, which was already something that Carver liked. He wasn’t pretty, he wasn’t cute...he was however...rather attractive. Especially with his golden eyes flaring with passion, and his lips slowly reddening from the agitated swipes of his tongue.

Something about him had always gotten under Carver’s skin.

At first it had been irritation at how quick Anders started fawning over his bloody brother. Then it had been rage at his casual references to Bethany...focusing only on the part of her that interested him. Her magic. She had been so much more...and he’d...well he’d reacted poorly.

So there was no love lost between them, but still...

It was unfair how attractive he found him. He liked the glimpses of a man behind his mission of Mage freedom, liked the cheeky humour and the flashing grins.

He was sodding gorgeous, and that always made Carver uncomfortable, because he didn’t have Garrett’s easy charm. He couldn’t say something witty and make it sound dashing. He was clumsy and awkward...and despite his friends in the Wardens helping him with it...he still found himself floundering more often than he could like.

So he’d resigned himself to staying quiet about it.

And he opened his mouth to give Anders a rebuttal.

But what came out of his mouth was,

“You’re kind of gorgeous when you’re mad.”

Anders spluttered to a stop and gaped at him. Fenris choked on his wine and Isabella yelped, tumbling off her chair.

Oh Maker…

Internally he felt the panic rising, and so he quickly stood and scooped up his tankard. “I’d better get another drink.”

“Hey!” Varric yelled after him as he beat a quick retreat out of the door, “That’s mine! Junior! Sodding hells…”

He thunked the tankard onto the counter and sighed softly, before gesturing for another one, “Fill both of them up please…”

“What the hell did you mean by that?”

Carver whipped around and gaped at Anders, who stood behind him, arms folded and a frown on his handsome face, “Anders…”

“What did you mean?” Anders growled, “Did you actually mean it or were you...being cruel?”

“Cruel?” Carver blinked at him in surprise, “Maker’s hairy ballsack why would I be cruel?”

“You...oh...you meant it then?”

Carver gave him a disbelieving look, “Yeah, I meant it...Didn’t mean to say it...but the contents...yeah that I meant.”

Anders’ tongue swiped out over his lips again, “So...I’m gorgeous when I’m mad?”

“You’re gorgeous all the time...well all the time you take care of yourself.” He plucked at the other’s coat, “Like, what the hell is this? You’re all skin and bones, Magey.”

Anders’ batted his hands away with a huff, “I’m not skin and bones,”

“You like hunted.” Carver informed him bluntly, “I know what that looks like now. And I also know how much food a Warden needs to eat in order to stay healthy. You are not eating enough.”

“Maker’s breath you fuss as much as Hawke does. Is that how you lot share affection? Fussing someone to death?”

Carver shot Anders a deadpan look and slowly dragged his eyes up the other man’s body, enjoying the flush that sprung up on his pale cheeks.

“Looks more like our fussing is stopping you from dying…” He shot the other a smug smirk, “Magey.”

“Stop that,” Anders scowled, and folded his arms, “We’re getting off track. You think I’m gorgeous.”

“When you’re mad.” Carver agreed, scooping up the new tankard and gulping down a mouthful before the taste hit him and he nearly gagged, “Holy balls of fire thats…” he caught Norah’s eye and wilted, “...good stuff.”

Anders laughed, and Carver turned back to look at him, “You’ve grown up a lot...but you’re still you. I’m glad to see the Wardens haven’t squashed the good parts of you yet.”

Carver frowned and shook his head, “See I don’t get it. You speak of them...with such bitterness. But when I ask them about you…”

Anders’ face crumpled slightly and for a second a painful vulnerability shone through, “They pity me, or hate me for betraying them.”

Carver stared at him, “You’re kidding right? Fucksakes Anders…”

“What?” the blond man blinked at him, “What?”

“They miss you.” Carver said firmly, and clearly, so the man couldn’t misunderstand a word, “They get this sad look, and they talk about you with such fondness. Cousland said she almost had a mutiny on her hands when you left. The others wanted to go after you, bring you back, make sure you were okay and safe. But she insisted they weren’t the Templar order, she didn’t want you caged. ‘If Anders needs us’” he quoted, “‘We’ll be there. He’ll always have a place with the Wardens.”

Anders’ face did something complicated, “You...really?”

Carver nodded and Anders looked away, and the pair of them lapsed into silence, not looking at each other as Carver drank again, fingering Varric’s tankard.

“I should um…-”

“Come back to the clinic with me.”

Carver blinked owlishly at the other man, “You what?”

Anders scowled but folded his arms, “Come back to the clinic. With me. And get naked.” When Carver simply blinked again, Anders rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t pop loose, “With. Me.”

“Oh!” Carver put down his tankard and flushed darkly at the offer and the implication, “Oh...you want to...with me?”

“You are hopeless at this.” Anders informed him, before curling a hand into Carver’s black tunic, yanking him close with a grunt, “Andraste’s ninnyknickers…”

“Ninnyknickers?” Carver snickered, “I think you just like making those up to scandalise people, you and Isabela both.”

Anders’ eyes crinkled in the corners.

“I admit nothing. Now...are you coming with me?”

Carver nodded and pushed his tankard to the side. Anders’ smile brightened even more, and for a moment Carver amused himself with the thought that Anders looked like the cat that had gotten the milk, or bird, he’d wanted.

Together they hurried out of the Hanged Man, neither of them hearing Varric’s outraged splutter as he had to come down to the bar to retrieve his tankard.

~*~

No sooner had they made it back to the clinic than Anders had Carver pressed against the door, golden eyes smouldering.

“This wasn’t how I thought tonight was going to go,” the Mage informed him, and Carver barked a nervous laugh.

“You think this was in my plans Magey?”

Anders’ white teeth flashed in the torchlight and then he leaned in. Carver held his breath in anticipation but just a breath away from his lips, Anders paused.

“Something wrong?” Carver whispered, suddenly struck with insecurity, “I um...if this isn’t what you want…”

“Shut up, Carver,” Anders chuckled softly, and his hand lifted to gently brush along Carver’s jaw, “I was just...thinking.”

“About what?” Carver asked, confused and edging towards insulted.

“How gorgeous you are, here in my clinic, looking at me like that.”

The insulted feeling melted away instantly and Carver, ducked his head in embarrassment.

Unfortunately he did it at the exact moment Anders leaned in to kiss him.

“OW!” Anders yelped and Carver’s head snapped up, having felt the sharp bonk of his forehead against Anders’ nose, and saw the healer pinching the offending appendage, “Bwudy hell, Barva.”

“Sorry, shit….sorry!” Carver quickly snagged the bandage he always carried in his pocket and wadded it gently against Anders’ nose, stemming the bleeding, “Fucksakes….”

Anders burst into nasal laughter and a moment later he batted Carver’s hands away as pale blue magic misted over his nose, fixing it instantly, “You are a disaster.”

“That is what they tell me.” Carver sighed, “I’ll show myself out.”

“Carver…” Anders’ hand gently pushed his shoulder, sending his back thudding softly against the wood of the clinic door once more, “I want this. I don’t know how much clearer I can be that I want this…”

“Still?” Carver licked his lips and groaned softly as Anders’ golden eyes locked onto that movement hungrily, “Oh, okay...yeah...still…”

The blond leaned in, fingers slowly undoing the laces on Carver’s breeches.

“Also...clarification,” Anders murmured, lips a breath away from his once more, “I enjoy a quick tumble...but this...oh I’m going to savour you.”

Carver groaned, and next moment he was kissing Anders.

His hands lifted to gently cradle the Mage’s head, thumbs lightly caressing his jaw as he tilted the other’s chin up, deepening the kiss.

Inexperienced he was, but kissing...oh he’d done a bit of kissing. One of his warden associates had even called them toe-curling. And Anders definitely seemed to approve, because he moaned into Carver’s mouth, and leaned into him, warm and wanting.

“You’re full of surprises, Warden Hawke.” Anders purred against his lips as the kiss broke, and Carver groaned, kissing his way down the other’s neck, wrestling with the coat and tunic underneath, “Pity you’re such a little shit...that mouth of yours is magic otherwise.”

Carver laughed against his neck and bit sharply, enjoying the yelp it elicited, “Like you can talk Anders.”

“True...we should form a...club.” there was a note of wistfulness in his voice, a longing deeper than what they were doing, and Carver pulled back slightly to look at his face.

Anders looked a little unsettled, unsure, and so Carver gently brushed his cheek with the back of his hand, and then sank to his knees, “Want me to use my bratty mouth in a more useful way, Magey?”

Instantly, hunger ignited in Anders’ golden eyes once more, and his long, deft, elfroot stained hands, gently carded through Carver’s black hair.

“Maker, yes.”

Carver grinned, and undid Anders’ breeches, considerably less deftly than the Mage had done with his, and tugged the mage free of his small clothes, enjoying the sound that the action drew from the man above him.

He’d done this before, twice, and had enjoyed it, but there was something about this time, something about Anders, that made Carver extra determined to make him go weak at the knees.

So he leaned in and slowly ran his lips along him, feathering his tongue against the warm, soft skin, while he also grasped the mage with his other hand. Anders wasn’t the largest man he’d been with, but he was quite long, and Carver’s hand wrapped around him in a way that was profoundly satisfying.

Apparently it was also satisfying to the blond man above him, as the action earned a truly wanton sound. It made Carver grin against him, and then take Anders deep into his mouth, fingers peeling away as he bobbed, smirking at the noises the actions elicited.

“Carver…”

He’d never get tired of hearing his name on Anders’ lips, especially with that little hitch of breath, the catch of pleasure in his voice.

Carver turned all his considerable focus onto Anders, determined to make the man melt, and it didn’t take long, by Warden standards anyway, for Anders to begin shivering against him, those long elegant fingers tugging at his hair.

“Carver...Maker...I’m…please…”

Carver smirked, thrilled to having reduced the mouthy mage to a few spluttered, moaned words, and sucked sharply.

Instantly Anders’ knees gave way, and Carver held him up, with his strong arms wrapped snugly around his thighs.

“Carver!” Anders’ voice was a wail of pleasure, and the young Grey Warden smiled as he felt the mage reach the edge and tumble over it. Carefully he swallowed around him, until Anders’ noises became discomforted ones, too sensitive for him to continue his ministrations. Gently he lifted the mage and staggered them over to Anders’ private room, small and dark and windowless and musty. But it had a bed, and that was what he tumbled them onto, in a great sprawl of limbs.

Instantly Anders wrapped himself around Carver, nosing at his neck sleepily, “You haven’t...I need to.”

Carver looked down at the mage, and saw the exhaustion in every line of his body, the way his eyelids could barely even crack open, and how utterly boneless he was. Although he was hard as a rock, he smiled, and gently carded his fingers through Anders’ fine blond hair.

“That’s okay Magey, you get some sleep.”

“S’bad sex manners.” Anders mumbled, already halfway to the Fade.

Carver chuckled and kissed his lips softly, “I’m sure we’ll do this again. You can make it up to me then.”

“Stay…” Anders breathed, before he drifted off into sleep, a smile on his lips.

Leaving Carver, aching, but with a deep, warm feeling of satisfaction simmering in his chest.

“I’ll stay.” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Anders’ feeling the too thin knobbles of his spine, “Someone has to look after you Magey.”

And he determinedly did not think about the packet of orders waiting for him in his room back at the manor. He could take a week or two here in Kirkwall surely…

...after that…

Well…

Who knew.

#canders #Anders/Carver Hawke #Carver Hawke/Anders #Anders / Carver Hawke #Carver Hawke / Anders #Carver / Anders #smut #Dragon age fic #Dragon age #Carver Hawke #Anders #DA2 #Dragon Age 2 #Grey Wardens

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felassan · 4 years

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How does exactly healing in DA work? Is its power unlimited, or is it rather magical acceleration of natural healing process, so a mage can in a flash fix things that would take more time in normal circumstances? What can be healed by magic and what is impossible to heal? [mini-spoiler alert ahead!] I remember Fiona conjuring friendly spirits from Fade in Deep Roads to heal some injuries and broken bones, but how about ilnesses, poisons etc.? Is there any canon for healing process?

Hi Nonnie, this is a grand question. tbh I love getting Qs like this. (❁´◡`❁) pls feel free to send them to me folks if there’s stuff like this you’re wondering about.

This answer focuses on healing magic and spirit healing. One note is that there seem to be healing spells that don’t require the mage to be a spirit healer i.e. that don’t seem to require the assistance of a spirit, but not all non-spirit-healer mages have or know these spells (Adrian doesn’t for example). Another is that within the actual spirit healer discipline are the mages able to take healing and restoration far beyond a normal mage’s capabilities. We therefore infer that spirit-assisted healing magic is a lot more powerful. I’m not really focusing on stuff like “spirit healers in the lore are rare”, “the specific spirits they summon are […]” and “Wynne is especially powerful because she’s very accomplished, long-studied and bonded to Faith” because that’s getting off the question of canon for healing process.

Healing magic in DA is a bit odd/frustrating cause it’s not extensively detailed in terms of capabilities, limitations etc. It’s very spotty. It’s not even internally consistent, and there’s also the issue of gameplay/story segregation. What’s just gameplay mechanics? who can tell. Beyond some notes on the spirit healer spec and how it works in the lore which you can read on the DA wiki (they do indeed call benevolent spirits from the Fade to help like you mention with Fiona; there’s more detail on that process at the link), and what you can see from the healing spell skills present in the games (so their descriptions and what they look like when used in combat), it’s never really like… set out. So we kind of have to infer from examples from places like books and cutscenes and try to build a picture from there.

Here are some notable instances. It’s under a cut because parts of the post contain spoilers for Tevinter Nights and Blue Wraith.

In the Dragon Age Comic from IDW, the one about a mage called Gleam: A dwarf called Minderel has only has one arm, having lost the other. He injures his leg in a fight, and instructs Gleam in how to heal him. This is odd to me because he’s a dwarf (uhh how does he know how healing magic works?) and Gleam doesn’t have formal training in this kind of magic, she’s like 17 and was raised by a non-mage blacksmith on a farm, not in the Circle or by an apostate like mage Hawke… Anyways, she heals his leg, and like, in the process.. unintentionally regrows his entire freakin long-lost arm?? Healer mages can regrow lost limbs?? WAT? His new arm is half the size of what it should be, but it’s there and functioning. Would it be the right size if an experienced healer did it?? Honestly.. this entire segment was so totally random and ‘tha fuk?’ that I pretend it didn’t happen. This comic in general wasn’t good quality. It’s like the ugly stepchild of the DA comics. The one nobody ever speaks about. it has other nonsensical-by-existing-lore stuff in it (like it says dwarves can’t see in the dark, when they can). actually this comic is a hot mess lore wise and iirc even some of the actual DA writers (the comic was written by an outside person) were like uhmm yeah you guys can decide for yourselves if these are canon… lmao. so I tend to write this incident off as world-breaking third-tier nonsense, like the kid Eiton in Dragon Age Legends who was supposedly born Tranquil (that can’t happen) and go with the line of thinking that no, mages in DA cannot regrow long-lost limbs. You’d think that if they could, this would be like, mentioned? The world of Thedas would be different if this was a thing that was possible. Like, if this is possible, why does Neve Gallus have a metal prosthetic leg of dwarven make…? ok I guess maybe she just wanted one or they’re stronger or sth? but cmon… anyway It did happen in a canon material though, so folk can make up their own minds ofc. imo though the power of healing magic is limited, and this would really be something that is impossible to heal.

There’s a moment I adore in Blue Wraith. Francesca, who has quite unique nature/plant magic for a human (such magic is usually only seen among Dalish elves), is also able to use healing magic, tho she doesn’t seem to be a spirit healer (which is consistent with what I said above). Aaron’s horse, Cassé, gets injured in battle. from the looks of things it’s an injury which would get a horse put down in our world. (that’s less a comment on the severity of a leg injury and more a comment from a biological perspective about how.. weirdly delicate horses can be despite appearances and strength, and how their specific body structure and such means broken legs in horses have only a small chance for recovery) Aaron, knowing Fran is a powerful mage, says that she may be able to heal him. she does so, re-knitting his bone. she also used her magic to grow Embrium blossoms to calm him during the process. Her writers note that even Fran’s healing is supplemented by plant magic, and this makes her unique even amongst healers. Aaron calls this magnificent and comments that he hasn’t seen magic like that since his time with a group of Emerald Knight restorationist elves who he travelled with in the Dales, possibly implying that some elven mages do similar things. From Fran’s comment on bone re-knitting, which is what bone in our world is sometimes said to do when it’s healing from a break, it sounds like healing magic is magical acceleration of the natural healing process. this is supported when Rhys healing is described as “knitting flesh back together”. that also sounds like it’s basically mimicking a sped up version of how our bodies would naturally heal given time. I wouldn’t say mages can heal things in a flash, because we see different examples of mages leaning over their charges and there’s glowing light while it happens (Fran here, meeting Anders in DAII), so it does take a bit of time. but certainly it seems rather quick and is oodles faster than the time it would take in normal circumstances.

In Tevinter Nights, Myrion is a mage who knows a little healing magic, but isn’t a spirit healer. He talks about his friend Jasecca, who “worked with spirits” - she was a spirit healer. she taught him a few tricks. On the subject of the capabilities of healing magic - Jasecca once reattached a man’s hand after it had been chopped off, presumably like very soon after. this mimics surgical limb re-plantation in our world, where most patients need to have the limb reattached within hours of the injury.

In the same story Myrion’s healing of Strife, who was punched clean through his torso with a big Qunari arrow, gives a lil bit more insight of how healing magic works. Myrion uses magic to close the wound and Strife feels a humming warmth seep into his back. it seems like Myrion does this without calling on a spirit.

Isabela goes to Anders in DAII in order for a magical cure (or relief from the symptoms of?) a disease which is implied to be an STD.

In TME Dalish mage Mihris uses healing magic to reduce inflammation on Celene’s wound, which had been stitched up I think manually beforehand. her hand glowed with cool white light which made Michel’s skin crawl.

In the Dalish Origin after Mahariel has been Tainted by the mirror, they are delirious with fever after Duncan found them unconscious. Marethari used “the old magic to [apparently] heal” them from the sickness. She says it was difficult even for her magic to keep them alive. Merrill apparently knows a degree of this magic and would be able to increase Tamlen’s chances of making it back to camp alive if they found him. It transpires that Mahariel’s ‘recovery’ was only temporary. Marethari weakened the Taint but couldn’t cure it with her healing arts.

what’s super interesting is the healing and related capabilities of (ironically) blood magic. We’ve seen it extend lifespans and keep youth despite aging. We’ve seen it cleanse the freakin Blight. a mage called Seraphinian used his own blood to cure his lover from a “wasting disease”. it’s even implied somewhere that I can’t remember that blood magic can restore sight if you’ve gone blind. edit: thank you @pugfaced for the help/note on where this came from. per pugfaced in the notes below, this “implication that blood magic can help restore sight – there’s a senior enchanter in the mage origin in DAO who says his eyesight is bad, you can ask if there’s magical ways to fix that, and he says “not any magic i’d be caught dead doing””.

as you say there are also written examples in The Calling when Fiona uses her magic. these are fairly informative in terms of the frame of your question. here she heals herself from fairly serious wounds (arrows in her stomach):

With a wave of a hand, a warm blue glow suddenly suﬀused her entire body. She gasped out loud as the pain was lifted from her, arching her back as the magic worked its way through her body. Maric watched, impressed, as several of the smaller cuts along her arms slowly closed and healed. When the spell was ﬁnished, the glow disappeared and Fiona collapsed limply.

this isn’t the only instance of a spirit healer healing themselves outside of gameplay. Rhys does the same thing in Asunder.

back to Fiona, here the limit seems to be the limits of Fiona’s power, i.e. her remaining strength and magical reserves, mana reserves. (she was exhausted at the time and they’d just been in a big ass fight). she drinks what seems to be a lyrium potion after in order to regain strength enough to then go on to heal some of the injuries the rest of her party sustained. The book notes that the magic she provides had its limitations. whether that’s of Fiona’s power specifically or of healing magic in general isn’t clear, but I lean towards the latter, because Fiona is a powerful and capable mage. We’re told it can mend flesh, stem bleeding and restore a degree of health, but that severe wounds were beyond her ability to heal. She wasn’t able to heal Julien’s broken arm, or Nicolas’ internal injuries. her own injuries were not fully healed. Maric’s twisted leg feels better immediately, but not completely repaired.

Her tone was gruﬀ but her ﬁngers were gentle, brushing his skin lightly as the tingle of her magic began to wash through him. He tried not to stare at her, and instead concentrated on the aura of sapphire light that surrounded him.

some further description of what it feels like to receive. the glowing blue light is the most common theme.

here I’ll note that it’s not clear if this sort of partial healing is typical, as in this is the lore saying “healing magic is good but has limits, it’s not like a mage does the glowy blue light on your wound and you’re in brilliant shape again”, or whether it’s limited here because Fiona was so exhausted and also having to like “ration out” her power and heal her party members each just a bit, if that makes sense, as most of them had sustained pretty intense injuries.

healing magic clearly significantly sap’s the user’s strength. we see this in Fiona, in Asunder after healing Rhys Wynne is pale and drawn, we see it when we meet Anders in DA2 and he’s wobbly after healing the boy. these facts lead me to believe that the way healing magic is just flung around in battle willy-nilly in-game when we play in DAO and DAII is not.. truly representative of how it works in the setting. imo it probably requires a lot of focus and is more tiring than more usual forms of battle-magic like flinging a fireball. there are totally points in these books when Fiona etc do it in battle. but I think it’s hard and not at all like how it plays out in game.

later we see more of healing magic’s hard limits. in this bit I’m confident it’s a limit of healing magic itself, not of Fiona’s specific abilities, because at this point iirc she wasn’t injured herself and wasn’t like super exhausted. Julien lies mangled and probably died of a broken neck. Fiona pours magic into the body,

but very little seemed to be happening. Some of the gaping wounds on Julien’s body were closing, but no color was being restored to his pale skin and he didn’t move at all.

She keeps trying but he’s clearly dead… :’( reading the death of Julien always makes me teary, shit..

As Genevieve bluntly puts it, magic can’t bring someone back from the dead. although it can clearly mend flesh wounds on a recently-deceased corpse, presumably because at this point the tissue itself, purely mechanically, is still warm and ‘living’ enough in order for there to be an effect. This is reinforced in Asunder when someone dies. Even summoning healing spirits won’t wake the dead.

[Wynne] desperately summoned healing spirits to mend the woman’s injuries, but the magic she poured into the body was pointless. The woman was dead and gone

the same thing happens again when Evangeline dies. this one echoes what happened with Julien - her flesh knits and wounds close, but she doesn’t come back to life (not until Wynne gives her Faith obviously and dies herself).

There’s also a bit more info in Asunder. Evangeline gets injured in a fight. she gets burned, inhales smoke, cracks her head off the floor, is made dizzy. force magic had also knocked the breath out of her and her body got kinda battered as she crashed to the ground. she passes out and Leli has a mage heal her.

Despite the healing magic, it still felt as if her bones were covered in bruises and her lungs filled with soot.

Magic can’t do everything, she reminded herself.

this excerpt lends credence to the notion that healing magic doesn’t heal injuries perfectly and people still feel pained and aren’t 100% healed after.

There’s a limit to healing oneself - Rhys can’t do it at one point when he’s too hurt.

Rhys tried to summon mana to heal himself. He closed his eyes and concentrated, but the pain was simply too great. It was a white blaze he just couldn’t fight his way past, and trying only made it worse. He doubled over, the light-headedness threatening to make him swoon.

I will also say that all magics in general seem to be more developed and so forth in Tevinter due to the lack of restraints on mages / lack of distrust of magic. I therefore think it’s reasonable to infer that healing magic too is more powerful and advanced/capable in Tevinter, especially with the prevalence of blood magic there (see section on blood magic above).

Umm so let’s recap/summarize because this has become a whole ass thing…

There are healing spells / healing magics that do not require the mage to be a spirit healer. Not all mages have or know these spells.

Spirit healers are far more powerful and capable at healing, thanks to the assistance of spirits. A bit more detail on how getting the spirits to help works and how one might become a spirit healer etc in the lore is found in the DA wiki article on spirit healers.

Healing magic and indeed medicinal practises in general in DA is frustrating because it’s spotty. Canon specifics and details on the healing process are thin on the ground and not well or clearly set out. Some of it is also inconsistent. Most of what we know is from isolated examples. We have a limited picture built mostly from those examples. We also contend with gameplay-story segregation - how much of the healing magic skill descriptions in-game and the way they play out on screen in front of us holds true for how healing magic truly works in the setting?

From what we can seem to tell however, its power is not unlimited. It seems to largely be a magical acceleration of the natural healing process. It’s not done in a flash, but it is of course a lot quicker than mundane methods or unassisted healing.

Examples of what is possible to heal/do with healing magic: regrowing a long-lost limb [?], re-knitting bone, knitting flesh back together, growing specific blossoms in the ground at the time to calm the patient while he’s being healed [rare], reattaching body parts soon after they’ve been chopped off, cure or help with a disease which is implied to be a sexually transmitted disease, heal oneself even when badly injured, restore health, stem bleeding, close wounds, close flesh wounds on a recently-deceased corpse, help with burns and smoke inhalation, dull pain, reduce inflammation.

Notes on the above: The regrowing a long-lost limb is super questionable. The segment it occurs in doesn’t make sense as a whole. This segment is from a poor quality source that gets a bunch of other lore stuff wrong. The source is such that even some of the dev-writers are like “umm.. yeah.. nvm probably” about it, lol. imo this would be impossible to do. The growing of flowers to assist is technically healing being supplemented by plant magic. This is a rare skill or thing to do that makes its human user unique even amongst human healers, but might also be something found among Dalish elves. The reattaching of a body part was done by a Tevinter spirit healer. I imagine that healing magic, like other kinds of magic, in a general sense is more advanced/capable in Tevinter, due to the lack of restrictions on mages.

Blood magic can also be used to heal. We’ve seen it extend lifespans, maintain youth, cure a wasting disease, and cleanse the Blight from both inanimate and organic/living objects. Lore implies blood magic could also restore sight after having gone blind. These instances of blood magic curing a disease and cleansing Blight are pretty much the only things that we know of currently that spring to mind at this time as regards the illnesses and poisons part of your question (aside from the STD).

On canon for the healing process - basically magic flows from the healer to the patient (they can either touch them or hover their hands over them it seems), there’s a blue/white glow or aura, the patient feels suffused with warmth as magic flows through their body. Wounds then slowly seal and such. Pouring magic into a dead body is pointless.

On limits: the healer’s individual power, their strength reserves, their mana reserves. Healing saps them and they can’t do it if they’re exhausted. Anders becomes woozy in a cutscene and Wynne becomes pale and drawn after an instance, for example.We’re also told healing magic has limitations multiple times. There are some examples of this which I think are partially due to Fiona’s exhausted injured state and number of patients at the time, but also partially due to the natural limitations of healing magic. Severe wounds were beyond her ability; she couldn’t heal a broken arm; she couldn’t heal internal injuries; some of her work left people feeling better but not fully repaired; some of her own wounds were not fully healed. In a general sense it does seem that healing magic doesn’t heal injuries perfectly and people still feel pained and not 100% after. It mostly seems like superficial healing. Further hard limits are not being able to bring back someone from the dead, even if flesh wounds on their corpse close over and you have the help of healing spirits (which would imply rez spells in-game are not rezzing dead chars but knocked out ppl or something, or that it’s purely a mechanic), and not being able to heal oneself if you’re in too much pain.

Also, no magical artifact can do something that a spell cannot do. In Tevinter Nights the healing bauble Bharv stole heals his injuries and closes his wounds til they’re purple welts. It also smooths the skin of one hand til it looks 10 years younger, and earlier on it didn’t close a wound he had on his stomach but it dulled the pain from a sear to a dull throb. The amulet couldn’t rez Elim from the dead. These things are consistent with the capabilities of healing magic as explored in this post.

Hope this helps you Nonnie. :)

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bluekaddis · 5 years

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You almost mentioned Cullen as the best written character, but tbh he is written quite bad, his abuse and hate is never confronted in Inquisition and he is made victim by narrative, while he was the very problem why Chantry sucks. Even his fans admit that. He is mostly liked because of romance.

Ugh.

I was waiting for that moment when admitting I like Cullen’s character and story arc will bite me in the ass.

TL; DR (for those who don’t want to get through my long rant)

Let everyone enjoy any characters/romances/game choices they want. I have my reasons for having Cullen as a fav DA character and liking his story arc and I don’t think there are more problems with writing of his character than the majority of other companions in DA games.

Full answer below

First of all – I don’t want to argue that everyone should like or dislike the same elements of fiction as I do – it would be stupid. We all have different tastes, like different character archetypes and have varying opinions on what makes a good story. I’m trying to keep my blog character positive and unless someone asks me directly to share my opinion on a certain character or plot element I prefer keeping my critique to myself. I also don’t feel entitled to confront fans who, in their own posts, state they find Cullen boring, unredeemable or overrated, even if I personally disagree with all these statements.

If your ask, anon, stated the words “i think” or “in my opinion” I wouldn’t probably bother with such a lengthy answer, HOWEVER, you write your personal opinion like it was an objective statement, like you were in position to tell me how I should view the certain character. What did you expect, that I would suddenly realize “oh crap, NOW I see that a character and plot I had liked for my 200 hours of gameplay is actually bad, I was just too stupid to notice it!”.

Haha, no.

So, let’s go through your comment.

“tbh he is written quite bad”

In. Your. Opinion. There are people who don’t like Cullen’s character development. Some like the general idea but would make some changes if they could. Others (like me) don’t have problem with his story arc and just like to add some headcanons to fill the gaps.

It is understandable that when years pass between games, fans have time to develop their opinions and wishes of what they’d like to see. And because none of them actually writes the story it is very easy to feel disappointed and say “well, I would do it better (= my way)”. But the truth is - your way is not necessary a better way. It may be the case that “your version” would be even more hated by the fandom. Some opinions are just more popular than others and therefore may seem like they are objective but it’s an illusion. A well designed pool, with large sample size and good statistics may be objective. Opinions, on the other hand, are like farts – you always think yours are less stinky than the others’ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But I digress.

Yes, I think Cullen is a well written character and yes, I like his story arc. Cullen’s redemption works for me because I see it not as much about atonement for his actions as for his lack of action.

Let me explain.

Anti-Cullen fans tend to assume that he personally did a lot of atrocities, but when you look not at fandom assumptions but at his actual actions we see in games or WoT, you can see that he caused most evil by not doing shit.

He should have protected the mages.

He didn’t.

He should have questioned Meredith’s actions.

He didn’t.

He should have noticed she’s going mad.

He didn’t .

He should have stopped her before she evoked the Rite.

He didn’t.

He was very passive and basically let either Meredith or Hawke make all the choices for him. If he let Meredith decide – people died. If he listened to Hawke (based on player’s choices) he voted for whatever Hawke had proposed.

Why was he behaving like that? Probably because he had lost faith in his own judgment so he put all the responsibility on authority figures (Templar Order and Chantry teachings). Cullen’s core motivation throughout all games was to protect people and it never changes. What changes is his belief of what methods are moral or necessary to achieve that goal and whether he, as an individual, should be in a position to decide it.

In Inquisition Cullen does the opposite. He is a workaholic. He makes his own decisions (leaves Kirkwall, stops taking lyrium) and takes full responsibility for them. He doesn’t follow his leader blindly but openly states his own opinions and advice (whether they are correct or wrong is another topic). He gets really furious when someone in position of power lie to or sacrifice people under their command (like in case of Samson or Rainier). Finally, he dedicates his life, health, skills, basically everything, for a cause - to stop the war that can be blamed mostly on his former organisation, without complaint or asking for forgiveness.

And I love that aspect of his character.

In Inquisition Cullen is still a work in progress. He tries his best but his templar past comes back sometimes - and it’s good. If he was completely free of his biases, it would be damn unnatural.

I would never say that Cullen is a flawless ray of sunshine. He can be stubborn, biased, narrow-minded, hypocritical, bitter, aggressive and vengeful. But guess what – so can all the other characters. That’s why they are interesting.

“his abuse and hate is never confronted in Inquisition”

It is, at least for the standards of this particular game. DA:I doesn’t have full developed friendship-rivalry mechanics like DA:2 and you can’t even get approval points from advisors. The Inquisitor basically has far less options to condemn the Inner Circle’s actions or change their worldviews than Hawke (you don’t really argue with Dorian about slavery or with Iron Bull about Saarebas or Reeducators either).

But even if the Inquisitor has limited dialogue options to confront Cullen’s actions directly, Cullen himself brings the topic to the player. Cullen’s dialogue and actions in DA:I show that

he is ashamed of the person he became after Uldred’s uprising

he knows he needs to atone for his actions and he wants to work for it

but doesn’t really believe he can fully atone for what he did

supports the reform of the Chantry, Templar Order and Circles rather than agreeing to their traditional methods

That man already hates himself, give him some rest.

And if you still think he needs an extra punishment for his crimes - Cullen is actually one of only 3 companions/advisors in DA:I whose life you can literally ruin through your choices (the other two being Blackwall and Iron Bull). If your Inky thinks that Cullen’s actions are unredeemable and he deserves nothing better than to forever be chained to the templar life he has chosen as a kid - they can order him to take lyrium again. For me it’s a heartless and morally wrong choice, but anyone can play their game however they want.

„he is made victim by narrative”

Ok, that part really bothers me. Are you saying that it is a bad thing that a narrative treats a person who has been physically, mentally and sexually abused for weeks as a victim of that abuse? Or encourages empathy towards a character fed drugs, manipulation and propaganda? Acknowledging Cullen’s PTSD doesn’t automatically result in ignoring or diminishing traumas and abuse that happened to Anders, Carl or any other character. Empathy doesn’t have to be reserved to people you personally agree with, just saying.

„he was the very problem why Chantry sucks.”

I’d say he was an example showing why Chantry sucks. A symptome, not a cause. Chantry benefits only high ranking members of that intitution + some nobles and rich dudes. Mages are abused and denied most of the rights because of the Chantry. Templars are drugged and brainwashed because of the Chantry. Common folk can’t freely benefit from things like healing magic because of the Chantry. Non-humans are treated like heretics and barbarians - because of the Chantry. The Chantry, as we see at the beginning of DA:I is a corrupt, powerful institution that has forsaken almost all ideals it had been built upon and desperately needs a reform. Everyone can see that. I have NEVER met any fan who said „yeah, Circles, Templar Order, the Chantry – they were perfectly alright, no need to change lol”. Same goes to characters labelled by fandom as pro-Chantry (like Cassandra, Cullen or Vivienne). They all see that major changes must be done, they just believe the reformation is better than abolition.

„Even his fans admit that.”

Some, yes. Others don’t have a problem with his arc. Personally I don’t think there are many Cullen fans that would agree with every single point you made.

„He is mostly liked because of romance.”

Um, no. The reason why the game developers even bothered with making Cullen a romance option in DA:I is that he was already quite liked and popular among fans, despite being just a secondary character. I’d agree that the romance plot made Cullen even more popular, especially among players who didn’t play previous games, but it is wrong to assume that the only reason people enjoy his character is because he’s a pretty boy. I played the games in order and Cullen was one of my fav characters in DA2 - I just like paragon anti-villains with redemption potential. Fight me.

To conclude this overly long rant - I’m generally under impression that some DA fans tend to point certain aspects of Cullen’s character and story as “stupid excuses made by Bioware and fans to redeem a son of the bitch” and then use almost exactly the same arguments to defend their own favs. It’s the topic for maybe another discussion, but I think it’s a good thing to confront your own biases sometimes.

P.S. I also recommend watching this video about writing redemption arcs. Just for fun.

I rest my case.

(thanks, Ania, for the high quality picture to sum up my feelings)

#ask #cullen rutherford #cullen positive #fandom critical #my writing #rainhowls rambles #don't be afraid #i am generally open to discussion #just please state your opinions as actual opinions #not facts

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fandomn00blr · 4 years

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I tagged a bunch of folks in on my last WIP post, and I don’t want to harass anyone two days in a row, but seriously, and I know I say it every time, because I really do mean it...WHOEVER WANTS TO THROW SOMETHING TO THE VOID TODAY (or any day...) SHOULD DO SO AND TAG ME AND I WILL LAUGH AND/OR CRY AND/OR BLUSH IN EMBARRASSMENT WITH YOU!

Seeing all this excellent fenders content showing up on my dash recently (IDK what I did to make this happen, but well done, tumblrverse) put me in a MOOD to go back and find some glowey smut from the discard pile...which then apparently turned into fluffy angst (or angsty fluff?) and hand-holding (if you squint...it’s there at the end, I swear).

This one doesn’t really fit into any of my current WIP world states (I mean, I definitely straight up stole some of this from my earlier self for later fenhanders relationship dynamics), and it’s from back when I was clearly still getting to know these characters (still am, tbh), so we’ll go ahead and yeet it into the Void this week, where it belongs:

(Under a cut, cuz it’s 1900+ words long, a whole ficlet, I guess, and there are mentions of the amazing sex these two apparently just had...before Anders had to go and make it awkward...)

“You -- Fenris…” Anders gasps, when Fenris finally pulls away from the kiss long enough to give him a chance to breathe. “I haven’t had sex like that since…”

Fenris’ eyebrows furrow together and he abruptly lets go of him. The last thing he wants is to be compared to any of his past lovers.

“Well, since Hawke and Isabela paid for that night for me at the Blooming Rose for my birthday a few years ago!”

Judging by his frown, this is definitely not the kind of thing Fenris was looking to hear from him.

Anders remembers now, through the idiotic haze of his post-coital bliss, that Fenris had been extra broody then, apparently perturbed that he, or, more specifically, Justice, would want to go through with what the two women had arranged for him, and also probably a little bit annoyed that he wouldn’t shut up about it afterwards. Granted, this was back before he would have ever admitted he had any feelings for the mage. And there is a distinct possibility that Anders had been trying to make him jealous, to provoke him, something Justice seems to want to remind him of now...

“I...remind you of a prostitute?” Fenris doesn’t sound angry or offended. He just sounds sad, a bit disappointed.

“No!” Anders shakes his head, trying to catch his breath and take it back. Not that that should be a bad thing, he wants to say. Fenris knows about his past work in Denerim. Knows how he feels about sex work in general. But he also understands why this association might be a problem for Fenris, sees the hurt there, and has no idea why he decided to bring it up now. “Not at all!”

How does he always manage to mess everything up with him so quickly? He used to be quite good at making charming conversation after sex, priding himself on making sure that everyone had said their piece, that needs and expectations had all been met. And his bedside manner as a healer is highly-regarded by everyone here in Kirkwall.

But Fenris isn’t exactly a client or his patient at the moment. And he supposes he hasn’t had much practice at this sort of thing for a very long time.

“Because it’s you. And no one is being paid…and shit!” He feels Justice trying to take control to save him from his clumsy rambling, but what does the spirit know about pillow talk?

Fenris has somehow already gotten dressed and now he’s reaching for his sword, propped up carefully by the moth-eaten curtain Anders deemed adequate for granting them privacy in the little cubbyhole he calls his “bedroom” carved into the back of his clinic.

“And Justice approves!” Anders declares, growing desperate in his attempts to try and salvage this. “Of this. Of us. Of you!”

Fenris turns back and shoots him the darkest look he’s given him yet through this exchange. “Do not use the spirit’s feelings to try and spare mine.”

Anders is trying. He truly is. But this isn’t fair, because Fenris has just fucked him senseless, and all he really wants is to curl up next to him and fall asleep. It would be good sleep, too. The kind he hasn’t had in...he can’t really remember, doesn’t really want to. And anyway, it’s looking less and less like that’s going to happen now.

“What does that even mean?” he asks, waving his arms frantically in the air.

“Ask him.”

“You know I can’t! Unless you want me to let him take over?” Anders offers, half-seriously at first, but then he gets a curious look in his eyes. “Is that what you want? Because I totally can...” His eyes begin to glow a little, and light begins to shine through cracks in his skin.

Without even acknowledging this, Fenris ducks under the curtain, and begins making his way through the clinic toward the exit.

“Wait!” Anders calls after him, banishing Justice back to his subconscience for now.

But Fenris marches on, with Anders trailing behind him all the way through Darktown. It’s a wonder that he just can’t seem to catch up. He’s nearly a foot taller than the elf, after all, though Anders is perpetually out of shape due to his own self-neglect, and Fenris is...decidedly not that. But as far as he can tell, Fenris isn’t using any of his lyrium-enhanced abilities to completely lose him, though he certainly could if he really wanted to. Which is actually a little bit encouraging.

As they enter Lowtown, he slows down just enough that Anders is able to reach out to him. There was a time when he would’ve feared the consequences of grabbing the standoffish elf’s arm to try and get his attention. Part of him still does, he supposes, but not enough to risk losing him like this again tonight without at least trying to make things right.

As soon as he touches him, Fenris whips his head around and glares at him. “I am going home.”

“Fine. You can do that. I just…” He wheezes, leaning forward, trying to catch his breath. He truly is out of shape. “Can I apologize?”

“For what?”

“For being an idiot?” he huffs.

“You have never apologized for that before.”

Anders is so relieved to see the little smirk on his face that he could kiss him. But he doesn’t. Because he’s already pressing his luck with him further than he’s ever dared to before and he’s determined not to fuck it all the way up if he can help it.

“For...for...all the wrong things I said in my...compromised state back there.”

“Compromised?”

“Fenris, please just work with me here?”

His eyes narrow on him, but he is silent for what feels like an eternity to Anders. He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and mutters, “You have nothing to apologize for.” He looks down into the empty space between them. “I should not have assumed this was anything more than sex.”

Anders shakes his head. “No. You’re wrong. It is! And you know that.”

“But you…”

“You do know that, right?”

“I...”

“For three years I’d like to think that we’ve been building something more than just...well, whatever that was the first time this almost happened.”

He is pacing now, and Fenris is watching his hands as they move wildly back and forth with him, mesmerizing physical manifestations of the mage’s fretting over him and his feelings. His body language says more to Fenris than whatever words he is muttering as he frantically stumbles through another unnecessary apology.

“Fenris!” he snaps, drawing his attention sharply away from his hands. “Do you even remember that? You knew I wanted you back then. But not if you were going to regret it. If it was just about the sex…”

“I suppose you have proven yourself to be more than just a depraved abomination,” he drawls, with more than just a hint of that irresistible smirk. Justice seems even more pleased than Anders to see it this time. “But I am still going home tonight. To a real bed.”

Anders grabs his arm again as he turns to leave, and Fenris’ markings flare up bright and blinding this time, the sudden burst of activated lyrium burnishing itself into all six of Anders’ senses.

He knows he’s pushed him too far. But if Anders is going to die tonight, after what has just happened between them, well...he supposes it’s better than if he had died yesterday. And Justice seems to agree, because he doesn’t even try to take control in order to save him.

Instead of ripping his heart out through his chest as Anders braces himself for the inevitable, Fenris reaches up, gathering the mage’s collar in his hands, and yanks him down into a kiss.

Maybe Anders is dead. He certainly can’t breathe, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering him at the moment. Between the lyrium and the kiss and his body still humming from all the dopamine he’s been inundated with in the past couple of hours...

Fenris releases him with a quiet sigh and just stares at him as his markings recede. He’s expecting something. Words, perhaps? But Anders hasn’t been doing very well with those tonight.

He swallows hard, and tries anyway, because he can feel Justice growing impatient with his inaction. “You were…” he hesitates.

“Going home.” Fenris nods.

“To the mansion?”

“Yes.”

“Fine…” Anders rocks back onto his heels trying not to look completely dejected. “Yeah, fine…okay.”

Fenris rolls his eyes and inhales sharply through his nose. “Would you like to join me?” he offers on the exhale.

Anders looks stunned for a moment as he simply stares back at him. Then slowly, a dopey grin begins to spread across his face. “Are you sure?” Anders beams down at him. He honestly can’t help but show every emotion clear as day across his entire countenance and to Fenris, it’s one of the most embarrassing and endearing things about him.

“Hmmm…” Fenris starts to turn away from him again before his own smile can reveal itself. He certainly wouldn’t want to encourage this behavior.

“Okay!” Anders cries out, tightening the hand he’s forgotten is still wrapped around Fenris’ arm. When Fenris doesn’t even flinch, he thinks for sure he’s either dead or dreaming. “Okay...yes! Yes I would very much like to join you.”

Fenris shrugs him off without another word, and is already marching toward Hightown before the mage can say anything else to make him reconsider the invitation.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust him. Anders is terrible at hiding his intentions, his feelings, anything from him, really, and he supposes, after what he’s said to him tonight, that this is no accident. He trusts Fenris, as well, foolish as it seems for either of them.

But Fenris knows that once this happens, once Anders embeds himself into his home -- which, up to this point, hasn’t felt much like a home at all, and that has been on purpose, too -- more than all the tension between them the past three years, more than the half-drunken moments stolen from each other in dark corners of the Hanged Man, or in the alley behind it, or in the back of the clinic, where he could still tell himself it was just a phase or meaningless beyond the relief of pent-up frustration it afforded both of them, there can be no turning back. No more pretending he isn’t completely smitten with the ridiculous mage once he’s taken him into his own bed and let down his guard enough to actually just...sleep with him.

At some point, he reaches behind him with a small huff, a puff of gently glowing white in the unseasonal coolness of the night betraying his feelings. He grabs Anders’ hand, pulling him along with him, and Anders feels like he’s practically floating on that little cloud the rest of the way to Hightown.

#dragon age #throwaway thursday #anders #fenris #fenders #anders is love-drunk #not like in a magical love potion/sex pollen way #just in the 'this was better than I thought it could be and I've been thinking about it for a very long time' kinda way #anyway...#long post

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freedoms-call · 5 years

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apparently I have a friend who got into DA who is convinced anyone who remotely likes Anders is excusing or romanticizing mass murder, and he’s so upset he wants to bug Bioware devs on Twitter about it until they officially say the company does not condone genocide or terrorism. I’m utterly stunned

Oh wow, that’s a bit of an overreaction! Especially since Dragon Age is set in a middle ages-ish society where modern ideas of law are not directly applicable (otherwise we should start with arresting the player character from any of the games for killing a whole lot of people with or without provocation.) Also Anders’ story is not the only controversial one in the series, there is Isabela who is literally single-handedly responsible for the whole qunari problem in Kirkwall that I believe had caused more death than the chantry explosion. About genocide, we could talk about the whole chantry that declared an Exalted March on the Dales more or less because they were bothered that the elves had their own religion (and probably because Orlais wanted the lands.) And I didn’t even start on how they treat the mages just because they are what they are.

Personally I have thought a lot on why people treat Anders so differently from these other cases but I can only guess. One guess is that he is the only one whose actions are directly shown. Isabela confesses causing the qunari issue but she also comes back to help you fight it and you get to be the hero. The chantry is just doing what it has always done. But Anders? He even asks you to help but doesn’t tell you why (though I’ve found it quite obvious from the ingredients but maybe not everyone does) and while Isabela never meets the consequences of her actions (who would fault her? The poor late viscount surely won’t…) we get a direct show of everyone blaming Anders and you get to judge him. We don’t even get an option to agree with his goal, only to forgive or not forgive. Now I am not saying that blowing up a building with civilians in it is a good thing, because it is ultimately bad. I’m just saying that throughout history, such actions against institutions of political influence has been labeled either acts of terrorism or the acts of freedom fighters, with the only difference being is which side ended up judged to be right by history.

Another reason I think is that Anders is further portrayed as a bad guy by the dialogues in Inquisition - no other character is so ultimately framed by the developers. Sten who murdered an innocent family is forgiven. Empress Celene who had murdered a lot of elves, Briala’s family among them, and many other innocents out of manipulation, is forgiven (and most of her crimes are not even mentioned, only in her book The Masked Empire.) You are rewarded in the game if you forgive Blackwall who literally had children murdered and then lived in hiding to avoid responsibility for years (though it’s important to note that he regrets his actions, but that doesn’t mean they never happened.) Isabela (whom I absolutely love by the way, she’s just a great example) doesn’t need to be forgiven because she is never even really called out. Loghain, who betrays his country and causes the death of his king and half of their army, can be forgiven. You can even forgive Solas, who literally wants to destroy the world, not caring who gets hurt in the process. Seems to me this game is very much about forgiving bad actions, even regardless whether they were committed for a legitimate reason or not. Yet Anders, who we can all agree had his very good reasons, not hitting, but hitting back at the chantry after almost 10 years of trying to improve things peacefully, he is portrayed as someone who cannot be forgiven.

Finally, this is just something I personally think based on some discussions I had about the matter, is that I believe it also doesn’t help his reputation that his target was a religious institution. People seem to be very sensitive about this, somehow seeing the chantry as an ultimately good establishment that has its minor faults (like imprisoning innocents, legal slavery and magical lobotomy, you know, small stuff) and some bad apples (like Meredith &co., or Petrice, and many more, so just your usual stray lambs) instead of realizing that the whole institution seems to be based on bad ideas. Personally I think if Andraste was any sort of idealist, she would cry if she saw how the chantry is at the time of the games.

Uhh, this turned out to be very long and I am sorry for writing an essay on the topic. I will just forever be salty about the double standard how this game treats Anders and how a lot of people just fail to see that even if you disagree with his actions, he was in no way worse than many other characters who are shown and seen in a much better light. He was trying for 10 years with diplomacy while his people were tortured, maimed and murdered. Then he decided to hit back. And now he is supposed to be the horrible person for it. Yeah….

Anyway thanks for giving me a chance to write all this salt out, and maybe don’t ruin your friendship over this but I hope your friend will eventually realize the hypocrisy in their statement because Dragon Age is pretty much a game with _lots_ of cases of mass murder, sometimes the player character committing it (for example in DAO where you can choose to kill all the mages in Kinloch Hold, or all the Dalish elves.)

So yeah, thank you for your message and good luck with your friend (and also I don’t think Bioware will change their storytelling much because of this.)

#dragon age #Anders #Anders Positive #chantry boom #Anon #DA chitchat

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cruelangelstheses · 5 years

Text

alistair theirin, cat-sitter

fandom: dragon age rating: G characters: alistair, zevran, isabela, merrill, morrigan words: 3k additional tags: modern au, fluff, humor description: alistair ends up cat-sitting ser pounce-a-lot for the weekend. everything is fine, except that he knows nothing about cats—and to make matters worse, he’s pretty sure ser pounce-a-lot hates him. a/n: i’m back lmao i’ll be done reposting these soon. this was written for @compulsive-elfrootpicker for a wintersend exchange! their warden reina cousland is mentioned briefly so that’s who that is :-)

read it on ao3

—

This is not what Alistair had expected when Reina asked him to take care of a cat for the weekend.

It’s not even Reina’s cat; it’s Reina’s friend’s cat—Anders is the guy’s name, if Alistair remembers correctly. Apparently, Reina had agreed to watch Ser Pounce-a-Lot for the weekend while Anders was away, before realizing at the last minute that she was also going away for the weekend. Cue a panicked phone call late Thursday evening in which Reina asked Alistair to be the substitute cat-sitter, and Alistair agreed despite knowing next to nothing about cats. “Surely they can’t be that much different from dogs,” he’d assured himself. It should be fine, right? Right?

Wrong.

It’s only been about ten minutes since Reina dropped off Ser Pounce-a-Lot at Alistair’s apartment. In that time, Pounce has shredded Alistair’s curtains, knocked over several cups, and pissed on the kitchen floor despite knowing full well how to use the litter box, which Alistair had placed right near the back door to the balcony. Granted, it could be worse—at least the cups are all plastic and didn’t break, and at least Pounce didn’t piss on the carpet, and Alistair has been meaning to get some new curtains anyway—but still.

“What do you want from me?” Alistair asks the cat, who is standing on top of the kitchen table and swishing his tail back and forth. He’s just finished cleaning everything up, but there are bound to be plenty more messes at this rate.

Ser Pounce-a-Lot meows, but Alistair doesn’t speak cat, so he has no idea what that means. “It was a rhetorical question,” he says. Pounce hisses and uses his hind paws to slide his collar off of his neck. Alistair sighs.

It’s only Friday afternoon. Reina won’t be back to pick up the cat until Sunday evening. Clearly Alistair isn’t going to survive until then without some help, so he does the only thing he can think of to do: he calls Zevran.

Zevran Arainai is not usually the first person Alistair calls in the event of an emergency. That would be Wynne—she’s a sensible woman who has lived a lot longer than Alistair, and she’s very good at being “the adult” in any given situation. Alas, she’s apparently busy all weekend—if she’d been available, Reina would’ve asked her to watch Ser Pounce-a-Lot instead of Alistair.

The second person Alistair calls in the event of an emergency is Reina, but obviously that won’t do any good in this case. The third person would be Leliana, but she’s visiting family in Orlais; thus, by default, Zevran is the next person on his list, because Sten and Morrigan both scare him, and he trusts Oghren with a cat even less than he trusts himself.

Alistair’s conversations with Zevran normally take place over text when not in person, but this is an emergency, and he’s not going to risk being left on read when there’s a cat loose in his apartment who seems bent on giving him the headache of a lifetime. Luckily, Zevran picks up on the third ring. “Hello? Alistair?”

“Zevran!” Alistair says, breathing a sigh of relief. “Look, I know you probably have plans this evening, but I’m having a bit of an emergency and I need you to come over as soon as you can.”

“An emergency?” Zevran repeats. He sounds like he’s not sure whether to be concerned or amused. “What sort of emergency are we talking about? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

Alistair snorts. “Zevran, if I needed to call an ambulance, I would’ve called it before I called you.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Zevran replies. “Just let me put my pants back on, and then Isabela and I will be right over.”

“You—what?” Alistair says, but it’s too late; Zevran has already hung up.

Alistair shakes his head and turns back to the kitchen table—except Ser Pounce-a-Lot is not where Alistair last saw him. “Ser Pounce-a-Lot?” he calls, looking back and forth between the table and the counters. “Pouncey?”

It’s no use. Ser Pounce-a-Lot is nowhere in the kitchen—Alistair figures that out pretty quickly just by checking the cabinets and the pantry. The cat is gone, and he clearly doesn’t bow to Alistair, so it’s unlikely that he’ll return just at the sound of his name. “Blast it,” Alistair mutters. This day is just getting worse and worse by the second.

Alistair heads into the living room, checking behind and under furniture and even lifting up the couch cushions, to no avail. Beginning to grow desperate, he runs to the bathroom, searching under the sink and behind the shower curtain and even in the (closed) toilet, just in case Pounce somehow lifted up the lid and crawled inside. Nothing.

Alistair is in the process of tearing his bedroom apart when he hears Zevran’s voice singsonging, “Alistair! Oh, Alistair!”

“Yes!” Alistair calls as he digs through his closet. “I’m back here!”

A few seconds later, Alistair hears two pairs of footsteps behind him in the messy room. He glances over his shoulder to find Zevran and his friend-with-benefits, Isabela, both staring at him with their eyebrows raised in confusion. “What is the emergency?” Zevran asks coolly.

Alistair turns around to face them, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, so Reina agreed to watch some guy’s cat for the weekend, but then she realized that she was also going away for the weekend, so she pawned the cat off on me to babysit. Except the cat is a monster who hates me and I don’t know how to take care of it, and also since I called you I have discovered that the monster-cat has gone missing.”

“Wait,” Isabela says, holding a hand up. “Whose cat is it again?”

Now it’s Alistair’s turn to raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Err...I’m not quite sure why that matters, but I think his name’s Anders?”

Isabela gasps and claps a hand over her mouth. “I knew it! You’re watching Ser Pounce-a-Lot!”

Alistair shrugs helplessly. “Well, I was. How do you even know this guy?”

“I met him through a mutual friend,” Isabela says. “He gets around, it seems, despite the fact that he’s kind of a hermit.”

Zevran, meanwhile, is typing something in his phone, a half-smirk on his face. Alistair narrows his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I am adding this to my list of ridiculous reasons Alistair has called me,” Zevran replies with a laugh. “Do not worry, my friend. We shall find this Ser Pounce-a-Lot in no time.”

“You have a list?” Alistair says, before shaking his head. “You know what? Never mind. We have more important issues here. Number one being that I’ve had the cat for less than half an hour and I’ve already lost him. I checked the whole apartment, every hiding place I could think of, and I haven’t found anything.”

“Hmm. You never know,” Zevran says thoughtfully as he puts his phone back in his pocket. “Cats can be very quick and sneaky. Maybe he keeps moving to different hiding spots like a game of tag.”

“A game of hide-and-seek tag,” Isabela adds. “If we split up, we might be able to find him.”

“Yes. Good idea,” Alistair agrees, so with that, Zevran and Isabela rush out of the bedroom to search other areas of the apartment.

Alistair investigates every part of the bedroom and bathroom multiple times, with no success. When the three reconvene in the living room after a solid ten minutes, he can tell by his friends’ expressions that they didn’t find the cat, either.

“I don’t get it,” Alistair says. “I didn’t leave the front door open or anything. How did he get out?”

At that, Zevran awkwardly gestures toward the kitchen. “Alistair, I have a question,” he says slowly. “Was that window always open?”

Oh, no. Alistair nearly sprints into the kitchen, his eyes resting on an open window right above the kitchen counter. He’d opened it earlier in the daytime because it got hot in the apartment and he’d needed some air. Now the spring breeze blowing peacefully through the window seems to mock him.

Alistair rests his elbows on the counter and then buries his head in his hands, groaning and swearing under his breath. “Maker, I’m so stupid.”

“Well, Isabela knows the fellow who owns the cat,” Zevran says reassuringly, doing his best to remain optimistic about the whole situation. “That will probably come in handy.”

Isabela laughs nervously. “Um, actually, it might not.”

That is not what Alistair wanted to hear. “What? Why not?”

Isabela crosses her arms. “He loves that cat. If he even suspected that something bad happened to it, he’d probably—I don’t know—magic us to death.”

Zevran snorts. “I believe the phrase you are looking for is ‘kill us with fire,’ my dear.”

“Wait,” Alistair says, an automatic reaction. “Anders is a mage?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Isabela says nonchalantly. “Why?”

Alistair shakes his head and reminds himself that it’s not relevant. “Oh. No reason, I guess. I used to be a templar. Well, I left before I could actually take my vows, but I have all the abilities.”

Isabela’s eyes widen, as if she’s just suddenly put two and two together. “Are you serious?”

“Err...yes?” Alistair says, eyeing her with confusion. “What about it?”

“I think Anders somehow teaches his cats to like mages and dislike templars,” Isabela explains. “Or maybe they just learn the behavior by being around him. At any rate, they seem to be able to...sense that sort of thing.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t know a whole lot about magic and such.” Then she smirks a little, her eyes twinkling playfully. “But that would explain why Ser Pounce disliked you so much.”

Zevran practically cackles. “Oh, the thought of a cat shredding your curtains because you’re a templar!” he crows.

“I was a templar,” Alistair corrects. “But if the cat likes mages and dislikes templars...do you think he may have wandered off to a mage’s house?”

A lightbulb seems to appear over Isabela’s head. “That’s it!” she exclaims. “I know where to look for him. There’s a mage girl who lives just down the street, and he can’t have gone too far.”

Zevran snatches a bag of cat treats off the kitchen table, probably to entice Pounce to come back. “Well, what are we waiting for?” he says, shaking the bag. “Let’s go cat-hunting!”

With that, the three all rush out the door. They don’t bother with the elevator (since Alistair lives on the third floor of his apartment building); Alistair practically leaps down the stairs, Zevran slides down the railing, and Isabela sprints faster than Alistair thought was possible in knee-high boots. They probably look strange running through the lobby and bursting through the front doors. Isabela leads them across the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, heading in the direction of the downtown area.

Any thoughts about how it might have been faster to take the car vanish when Alistair sees the bumper-to-bumper traffic. It’s late afternoon on a Friday; it would’ve taken them ten minutes just to get out of the parking lot. Besides, they’re pedestrians, so they have the right-of-way at every crosswalk.

It’s not long before they arrive at a quaint little white townhouse with a rocking chair and several potted plants on the porch. Isabela bangs on the door several times, yelling, “Merrill!”

A few moments later, the door opens, revealing a small elven girl with black hair and tattoos on her face. “Isabela!” she says cheerfully, sounding pleasantly surprised. “What brings you here? And who are they?” She gestures toward Alistair and Zevran.

“Some friends,” Isabela replies quickly. “Listen—did you happen to see an orange tabby cat recently? Like, within the past forty-five minutes or so?”

Merrill’s eyes light up. “Yes, actually! A cat that looked just like that came scratching at the door maybe fifteen minutes ago. I gave him some pieces of cucumber and he sat with me on the porch for a little, but then he left.”

“He left?” Alistair repeats in a panic.

“Merrill,” Isabela says slowly, “that was Ser Pounce-a-Lot. Anders’s cat.”

Merrill covers her mouth with her hand. Clearly she knows Anders, too. “Ohhh,” she says, her cheeks flushing pink. “I knew he looked familiar. But he wasn’t wearing his collar, so I wasn’t sure.”

Alistair mentally smacks himself, remembering the way Pounce had removed his own collar with ease. Alistair hadn’t bothered to put it back on him.

“Oh, Merrill,” Isabela says with a sigh, but there’s not a trace of malice in her voice (in fact, Alistair thinks he might actually hear a bit of endearment).

“The last I saw him,” Merrill adds, “he was headed down toward Korcari Street. Fast, too.” She giggles a little. “He was a cat on a mission. As if he had somewhere very important to be.”

Alistair and Zevran exchange glances. They only know one mage who lives on Korcari Street. “Morrigan!” they say in unison.

Alistair throws his hands up in the air. “She hates animals!” he yelps. “She’ll kill him! Skin him alive, eat him for dinner, then use his bones as kindling!”

Upon hearing this, Isabela grimaces and says, “Well, we’d better be going, Merrill. Got a cat to save and all that. Bye!”

Without another word, she turns around and leaps down the steps, Zevran following her. Alistair shoots Merrill a glance and says, “Thanks.” Then he turns around and runs after Isabela and Zevran.

“Oh! Um, no problem?” Merrill says from behind him. Isabela will have a lot of explaining to do later, it seems.

As they rush to Korcari Street (earning strange looks from passersby as they shove their way through crowds and cross streets when they’re not supposed to), Zevran says, “I have to say, Isabela, I am surprised.”

“Surprised about what?” Isabela asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You always go on about how selfish you are,” Zevran says smugly, “yet here you are, helping Alistair with his cat predicament without expecting anything in return.”

“Oh, come on,” Isabela replies defensively. “I’m only doing this because I don’t want Anders to kill me. That’s all.”

“Hmm,” Zevran says, clearly unconvinced. “From what I’ve gathered, Anders still thinks that Reina is the one taking care of the cat. If anything were to happen to him, it would be on her head, and maybe Alistair’s. Not yours.”

“I—well, I just had to make sure that—shut up.” Her cheeks turn pink, and Zevran laughs.

This time, when they reach Morrigan’s townhouse, Alistair is the one who pounds his fists on the door and shouts, “Morrigan!”

“She may not answer to you,” Zevran says. “Let me try.” Taking a deep breath, he cups his hands around his mouth and calls, “Morrigan! O magical temptress, I beseech thee!”

The sound of the front door slamming open stops Zevran from continuing his speech. “What?” Morrigan snaps, looking even grumpier and more terrifying than usual. “First a cat, and now this.”

“A cat!” Zevran exclaims. “That is what we’re here for!”

“Please tell me it’s still alive,” Alistair adds.

As if on cue, an orange tabby cat appears from behind Morrigan, rubbing himself against her legs and purring. Morrigan rolls her eyes and lightly pushes him away with her foot. “Shoo,” she says with a scowl.

“Pouncey!” Alistair cheers, a wave of relief washing over him at the sight of Ser Pounce-a-Lot all in one piece.

Morrigan raises an eyebrow, probably at the name. “I was not aware you had a cat, Alistair.”

“Oh, I don’t,” Alistair says quickly. “He’s not mine. I’m just...cat-sitting. Except apparently this cat really likes mages and really doesn’t like templars.”

Morrigan snorts. “Explains why he thought I would be a good person to visit.”

“Why did you even let him in, if you hate animals so much?” Zevran asks.

“I didn’t,” Morrigan says. “I opened my door to see what all the scratching was about, and he ran inside before I could stop him.”

“Well, uh, we’ll take him off your hands,” Alistair says, crouching down to pick up Ser Pounce-a-Lot. Pounce hisses and doesn’t move from Morrigan’s side.

“Go,” Morrigan tells him, sounding exasperated. “I have other things to deal with. This man will not harm you.”

Pounce meows at her. Alistair thinks the cat almost sounds unsure.

“He is an ex-templar,” Morrigan continues with another roll of her eyes. “He never actually took his vows. Now go.”

Alistair holds back his laughter at the sight of Morrigan trying to reason with a cat. Ser Pounce-a-Lot trots out the door, but instead of heading toward Alistair, he stops at Isabela’s feet.

Isabela laughs a little. “It’s because he knows me,” she says. Then, to Ser Pounce-a-Lot, she adds, “Fine. I’ll carry you, you spoiled little furball.”

Ser Pounce-a-Lot meows approvingly as Isabela picks him up. “Well, err...sorry for bothering you,” Alistair says awkwardly to Morrigan. She glares at him, but—if he isn’t seeing things—he swears that her eyes betray something akin to amusement beneath the irritation and hostility.

“Try not to do it again,” Morrigan says with a hint of a smirk.

Alistair sticks his tongue out at her. Behind him, Zevran snickers.

They take their time walking back to Alistair’s apartment. “So,” Alistair says slowly, “we found Ser Pounce-a-Lot, but something tells me he’s going to keep making trouble.”

Zevran raises an eyebrow. “Is this your way of asking us if we would like to sleep over? I graciously accept.”

Alistair can feel his cheeks heating up. “Well, I mean, if you want—”

Zevran holds up his index finger and presses it lightly against Alistair’s lips. “Nonsense. I will not abandon my good friend Alistair in his time of need. I assume you have no objections, Isabela?”

After a short pause, Isabela, still carrying Ser Pounce-a-Lot, says, “None. But I reserve the right to leave whenever I want.”

“But of course,” Zevran says. “It has been decided. Ser Pounce-a-Lot will not stand a chance against us!”

Alistair smiles and shakes his head. It’s going to be a long and interesting weekend for sure.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dao #alistair theirin #zevran arainai #isabela #ser pounce a lot #my fics #rereading this is making me laugh ngl

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the-funkiest-penguin · 5 years

Note

I JUST REALISED I FORGOT TO ASK WHICH NUMBERS FOR THE DA THING SO HERE U GO: 1,4,5,6,17, 20, 21, 22, 25,26,28, 41-43, 45-47, 49, 51-54, 57, 73, 98-101 !!!

How did you get into Dragon Age? @gaymightynein told me there was a black bisexual pirate captain lady and that was the end of that tbh

What was your first Warden (gender/class/race/personality)? She was a rogue dalish elf (kinda my thing), and she was a sassy hoe, and she was a dumbass hoe who fell head over heels with Alistair (it was me i was in love with him) but yea

What was your first Hawke like (gender/class/temperament)? Well, my first Hawke was called Karis and she was Tired Tee Em. She was exhausted and at some point she kind of just does that John Mulaney bit where he’s like ‘it might as well just happen’ i mean her mother gets murdered by someone who makes his own little frankenstein’s bride LEAVE HER ALONE

First Inquisitor (gender/class/race/personality)? Lunas, rogue, dalish elf, you know the dealio. I imagined her very anti-responsibility and very very sneaky and one day she wakes up and her hand is glowing and there are two ladies yelling at her and frankly she’s kinda yanked along on this adventure that she would most definitely prefer not to be a part of and for fuck’s sake she doesn’t even believe in the Maker why do people keep worshipping her as the Herald?? She didn’t ask for this??? She just wanted to be sneaky??

What did you name your Mabari? Pluto!! Because it was my favourite planet, and then i watched a mickey mouse thing and i had to find a new name for my mabari.

Was everyone loyal at the end? Hmm. Hmmmmmm. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Wait, for DAO or DA2? Bc DA2 everyone loved me but for DAO Alistair leaves me and becomes a drunk or something. Why? Because he’s an idiot.

Did Hawke side with the Mages or Templars? …. Templars. But my logic was that it would be easier to save mages if you pretended to be on the Templars side, but i forgot that it’s a game that treats any complex decision like it’s black and white. i was entirely neutral up until that point.

Favorite DA2 party combo? izzy, Merrill, Seb/Varric. Or Izzy, Anders, and Varric. Not necessarily useful, but the party banter was 10/10. Fenris i didn’t really appreciate until my second playthrough.

Favorite DA:I place? SKYHOLD. I LOVE SKYHOLD TO BITS. HAVEN CAN SUCK MY TIT SKYHOLD 4EVA (the wastes are also pretty but fuck it’s annoying)

Did your Inquisitor choose the Mages or the Templars? … TemplARS I CAN EXPLAIN-

Which did you leave behind (Abyss)? lol first time i accidentally clicked hawke and i went back and i re-did the boss bc i don’t want to live with that kinda responsibility

Inquisitor’s feelings on being the Herald of Andraste? ‘YoU KNOw Who elSE can SUCK MY TiT-?’ She was a proud Dalish elf, of course she hated it, and she kept saying it until it got exhausting. I remember there’s this castle fort thing in the hinterlands where there’s a woman that’s like “You can’t be Andraste’s Herald, you’re an elf!’ and first playthrough I was like ‘CoME AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE’ and the second playthrough I was like ‘This woman gets it, everyone listen to her.’

Who did you romance in your first playthrough for each game? Ahem. Alistair. Isabela. … Cullen. I know I hate it.

Who do you wish you could romance that you can’t? DORIAN. God I love him.

Favorite romance overall so far? Yeah, okay. So I like Alistair. And what. Fight me.

Which 3 DA characters would you want as your best friends? Varric, Varric and Varric. Also maybe Izzy, but mainly Varric.

A character you’d love to drop in a volcano and forget about? DA2 Anders. Awakening Anders was the fucking best.

Best antagonist in the series? Ehhhh, I guess Anora? All the other villains are kinda shitty, and Anora is at least a vaguely interesting back-stabbing whore.

Worst antagonist in the series? Solas. He antagonised me, okay?

Something you do in EVERY DA playthrough, no matter what? Be a rogue. Like me some stabby stabby.

Favorite Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor headcanons (any or all)? Inquisitor is obsessed with dragons. She loves them an unhealthy amount, and she loves/hates killing them. Hawke is an alcoholic but she’s good at it. She can count the amount of times she drank Isabela under the table, and remembers at least one of those times. Another Hawke one is that Varric deals with her love life with a devastating efficiency, and that’s why they are best friends. All my Warden headcanons are sad.

Favorite non-Player Character headcanons? Sandal is a God.

That One Headcanon that hurts to think about? How long it took Hawke to leave the house after she found her mother dead? Inquisitor coming back from the Fade like ‘yes we won but everything is awful’ and coming home like ‘at least i have someone who loves me’ and Josie is like ‘yoooo i am engaged haha what’s up with you’? Warden not caring if she died in the battle in Denerim bc what’s the point? Eh, take your pick.

Fluffiest headcanon ever? Aveline is a panic baker. They all found out about this the day before her Guard Captain test.

Who would you date if you could (as you, not your OC)? Yeah, Alistair. Seems the healthiest option tbh. And that is saying A LOT.

Who has the best character arc overall? Varric.

Who was written really poorly? DA2 Anders come here and fucking fight me

Favorite OST song(s)? I am a slut for In Your Heart Shall Burn, i just think it is the sexiest battle music in existence (it’s not even the proper thing, it’s like a build-up, a foreplay if you will, and it just kinda really get’s me going, even if it is really short.)

Did you get someone into DA? I know you didn’t ask this but heheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheh

If you could be any non-Human DA species, which and why? Elf. Because I love em. They are great.

Where would you live (Fereldan, Orlais, Free Marches etc?) ANTIVA BITCH YOU SEE HOW BEAUTIFUL ZEV AND JOSIE ARE HAVE YOU HEARD THAT ACCENT HAVE YOU FELT THE LEATHER BOOTS

Circle, Templar, Chantry, Guard, Seeker, Inquisition, or none? Eh, if I had to I would choose the Inquisition.

If you could meet your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor, what would you say? You did good, buddy. You did good.

Took a few months don’t mind me I am procrastinating and in a mood i love you ben

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depmode · 6 years

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Fenris

getting some DA in here!!! yay.

How I feel about this character

ok let me tell you about the first time i saw fenris. i started playing DA 2 right from DAO and i didn’t look up anything about it, didn’t know the companions or anything really. so that scene where fenris appears, walking down the steps, what did i think? “wooooow lol this dude is ugly” CAN YOU BELIEVE….. (side note my reaction to basically all my canon romances in DA was annoyance/disbelief, why is this a thing self). but anyway, safe to say those feelings did NOT last. he’s beautiful. i love him. im very protective of him and probably get way more Heated than i should when people rag on him. he’s just…. such a good character. carries around all this pain and anger in him, but that isn’t who he is, you get to see him grow and change and see him smile and make dumbass jokes along with hawke and learn how to be his own person and find his own life and DAMN I LOVE THAT ELF.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

my hawke is a male mage! named luca. i always max friendship in their romance. and god…. i love fenris’s romance path. A LOT. it has its realistic ups and downs, both of them trying to fit together despite the differences that seem like they should be too wide a gulf between them, but maker bless it they make it work. and it’s beautiful. they love each other so fiercely and hawke is so good and understanding with fenris and fenris opens up and isn’t afraid to say how he feels, or admit to hawke when he’s been in the wrong and I’M GONNA CRY ON THE INSIDE their relationship makes me mush lmao. every time hawke makes a stupid purple joke and fenris does his dumb little chuckle i feel like ive gained at least an hour onto my lifespan. it’s been too long since i replayed it!! i gotta!! i don’t ship him with any NPCs, though i guess i don’t mind him and isabela hooking up.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

i adore the friendship he has with both sebastian and aveline. their banter? fucking great. sebastian is never pushy, just always letting fenris know that he’s there for him, reminding him that he isn’t broken or worthless and that he’s accomplished great things just by being free, and yeah i hate the chantry as much as the next but hey if fenris finds peace there - well, im all for that. and aveline, she looks out for him as much as she does hawke. never treats him with kid gloves but understands him and where he has come from. the banter about the slavers who just happened to not make it to prison? yes!!! (also banter with her gives us one of the greatest DA lines of all, “I shall endeavor to exist with less offense.” lmao). HE PLAYS CARDS WITH HER HUBBY. THEY JOKE ABOUT BABIES. THEY ARE BONDED AND ADORABLE.

My unpopular opinion about this character

i dunno what’s popular and unpopular in the DA fandom anymore. uhhh let’s see. booo to anyone who hates on him because of the stuff he says about mages and dismisses all his feelings, i have no time for that. fenris/anders is WACK. ANDERS APPROVES IF YOU GIVE HIM BACK TO HIS OLD MASTER, YOU WEIRDOS, THEY HATE EACH OTHER AND WOULD RATHER DIE THAN TOUCH DICKS??? i don’t like his rivalry romance path at all and i think it’s vaguely toxic for fenris because unlike the friendship it just feels like both he and hawke are reinforcing their differences rather than learning from each other and growing, yet somehow they still fuck?? don’t get it tbh! also: i don’t like long haired fenris lol.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

lemme marry this dumbass elf, please. it’s been 10 years let me. marry. him. i wish he had moved out of his skeleton mansion and in with hawke. wish we had gotten more companion content with hawke and all of them, but esp with fenris and getting to talk more about the times he pulls dick moves on hawke with his insults but hawke never gets to tell him how they feel about that (his anger is valid but that doesnt mean hawke should just stay silent and accept it esp if they are in a romance, but w/e bioware my hawke and fenris have a very open and communicative relationship!!!) wish we got more of his dry humor. wish there were more smooches. wish i hadn’t KILLED HAWKE IN THE FADE AND RUINED FENRIS’S LIFE, I SUFFER EVERY DAY OVER THIS CHOICE I’M SORRY FENRIS……………………. sob. also wishing we get to see him in da 4 and kill slavers with him!!

#f: dragon age #c: fenris #anonymous #asks #meme asks

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thejourneymaninn · 6 years

Text

First friend

for @teamblueandangry‘s Kandersgiving

“Tell me about the world outside.”

“What?”

The boy’s head swivelled around. Eyes narrowed in suspicion, he peered up at Karl from beneath messy strands of blonde hair. That little furrow between his brows, growing deeper with every passing second of silence…Karl would really have liked to kiss it. Well. Maybe later. Much later. He had a reputation to maintain, sure, but the kid was…well, that was just it, wasn’t it? Almost still a kid. Almost. Not quite. But from what Karl had seen, he didn’t seem to be interested in the…social aspects of Circle life yet. Pity. He really was kind of cute, from up close. Ah well, maybe one day. No need to rush things. It was a Circle, after all, you were bound to run into everyone again at some point during the rounds. Unless they disappeared overnight, never to be mentioned again…

He softly shook his head and plopped down next to the boy in his best display of well-rehearsed casualness. Not the time for that. He’d come for stories. Although an ally to complain with wouldn’t hurt either. Someone who wasn’t too cowed to open their mouth, now that would be a nice change.

Karl made a point of shrugging extensively as he flashed the boy his best lazy smile. “I don’t remember it. Any of it. Sometimes I see pictures in my head when I read a story, but I never know if it’s a memory or just my imagination. No one ever really talks about it, they all just pretend like it doesn’t exist. But you, you keep trying to get back there. I was just curious….But if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine.” He added another shrug for good measure. “Just thought I’d ask.” He made to get up….

“Wait…”

…and sat back down with a grin.

“Why would you ask me? No one wants to be seen with me. I’m on the Templars’ watch-list.” For a moment there, he looked endearingly proud beneath the still very-present layer of suspicion.

Karl shrugged again. There could never be too many shrugs, right? “The Templars can kiss my pale, robed ass. Anyone who makes them look even more stupid than they already do is alright in my book. I’m Karl, by the way. And you’re Anders, I know that much.”

“Yes.” There was a brief pause. “Anders. I’ve never seen you in class.” His eyes narrowed again.

Karl had to bite his lip hard to keep himself from laughing. He really shouldn’t. It wasn’t funny. Quite the opposite.

He wordlessly reached out a hand and sent a tiny cone of cold along Anders’ thigh. Snowflakes gathered on his robes in a glittering trail, then melted into nothingness, a couple of tiny stains the only proof they’d ever existed.

“See? Mage. I’m not a Templar spy, no need to worry. I’m in advanced classes. Mostly elemental and force. Naturally, I mean, I’m cool, and I’m a force of nature.”

He wriggled his fingers in an exaggerated fashion, but Anders didn’t seem to be paying attention. His gaze was fixed on where the snowflakes had been.

“I’m not good at elemental.” Something settled in his eyes, making them appear darker as he spoke again. “Fire’s hard to control.”

“Well, if you ever need help, my fireballs leave all customers satisfied.”

Anders rolled his eyes, but that little quirk at the corners of his mouth didn’t escape Karl’s notice. “Thanks, but I’m more than capable of satisfying with my healing hands.”

So…maybe not that much later after all. Karl tried not to smirk too obviously. “Healing hands, huh? You got Wynne?”

“Yes.”

“Good. She’s alright. Well, mostly. Likes to meddle, but won’t sell you out to the Templars…Has she given you all the ‘smart choices’ talk yet?”

The look on Anders’ face would have been answer enough. “Does she ever not?” He fell silent, chewing on his lip. “She’s nice though, reminds me of…“ He broke off abruptly. “She says I could become a Spirit Healer.”

Of course. As if the poor guy didn’t draw enough Templar attention already. One of the rarest talents, lucrative, feared and tightly leashed. But somehow, it suited him. Special. Like those eyes that seemed clueless at first glance but had been watching him intently the entire time, taking in everything with hardly any signs of movement…They really were an unusual colour…

“I bet you’d be great at it.”

Anders raised his pointy chin defiantly. “I won’t stay long enough to find out. I’m going home. The Templars can’t stop me!”

“Guess I should tell you that there’s no chance and you’d better accept your fate…but you know what, you’re so persistent, you might actually make it one day. And I’d love for someone to get out. To prove we won’t all be Templar slaves forever.”

“Why don’t you try to escape then?”

Ah, yes. The question of long-abandoned dreams.

“I was brought here when I was four. I don’t remember a ‘home’ I could return to. They took the world away before I even had a chance to see it. I tried anyway. Once. Years ago. It didn’t end well. There’s nothing out there for me.” The forced nonchalance of his shrug came less easy this time. “So yeah, the revolution won’t start with me. But you…for a child to swim all the way across the lake—“

“Riiiight, Grandpa, because you’re so much older and wiser. Bet your hair’s going to go grey any day now. You’ll leave a nice, shiny trail of silver when they drag your brittle ass to your Harrowing.”

“You were a child then is what I meant, alright, no need to go all Surana on me.”

“You too, eh?” For the first time since Karl sat down next to him, Anders gave him an actual, full smile. Followed by a soft, melodic laugh. Karl made a mental note to coax that sound out of him more often.

“Yes. Don’t make me speak about it. I’m scarred for life.”

Anders laughed again. Karl leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table.

“So…about the world outside…”

#dragon age #kanders #kandersgiving 2017 #anders #karl #fics #my fics #first friend #first meeting

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ramblinganthropologist · 7 years

Note

“Do you need a hand?” AVERY MEETING KAAS

Ok, so... have some really bad pep talks.

Morning. At least, he thought it wasmorning. With the heavy curtains drawn over the window, it wasdifficult to know what time of day it was. He was certain he heardbirds chirping, but that didn't really mean anything. It would havebeen sensible to look, but every fiber of his being kept him in bed,staring up at the ceiling.

His arm throbbed. It was doing thatless and less as the days wore on, but it still hurt. The healer whohad stood over him once he had stopped screaming warned him he mightfeel some phantom pain in what used to be his wrist. They had beenwiping off their bloody hands when they had informed him of this, asif they weren't the reason he was in so much pain.

No, that wasn't fair. Kaaras shookhis head weakly. Solas was the cause of this. The others, as much ashe hated them at the moment, had only tried to help him. Of course,when help is holding him down when someone sawed through his dyingarm, it's hard to see things clearly. He would eventually have toapologize for half the things he said, but that wasn't for today.

Sighing, the qunari closed his heavyeyelids. Sleep was getting more natural. He was weaning himself offthe potion they had given him for pain, and soon he might not need itat all. What he would do afterwards, he had no idea.

Off to the side, beyond the heavydoor that had been slammed shut a day prior, he heard footsteps. Oneof them was rather heavy, while the other practically skipped. Bothstopped before his door, and began to speak in low tones.

“How's he doing, Varric?”

“It's not good. He cursed hisbrother out yesterday. Healer says he should be up by now.”

The other voice snorted. “Healerssay a lot of things. Only ones I trust wear feathers. Just give mesome time with him. I think I can help.”

There was a pause, and then the knobjiggled uselessly. “Just uh... can you pick the lock? All thumbs.”

Had he the strength, Kaaras wouldhave laughed. Instead, he just stared over to the door. Varric'stools were making short work of the lock, large fingers somewhatclumsy. That used to be his job, way back before any of this hadhappened.

The door swung open anyway, and afigure stepped inside. It took him a few moments, but he recognizedthe large pair of blue eyes glowing faintly in the half gloom. Hehadn't had much time with Varric's friend, but she was alright.

Avery Hawke crossed the room withouta sound, hopping onto the chair next to the bed like the little birdsthat hopped across Skyhold's garden. She gave him a toothy grin,crossing her legs in an altogether unladylike fashion. Of course,when one wears armor, that tends to be a little hard.

“So, can I give you a hand withanything?”

That might be a little difficult,considering she herself was also disarmed at the moment. This wasprobably the first time Kaaras had seen her without the prostheticthat connected to her right shoulder. Someone had folded up thesleeve so it didn't get in her way, someone with quicker fingers thanthe dwarf standing in the door frame.

Those blue eyes glanced over to hisleft side, and Avery let out a low whistle that was still pretty highcompared to most of Skyhold. “Damn, they did a number on you. Ithought you would at least get to keep the elbow.”

So had he. The qunari glanced over tohis arm, or what was left of it. Apparently, the green glow hadspread farther than his elbow. The thin scars that remained almosttouched his shoulder in places. If anything, he seemed to be lucky tohave kept what he did.

“Guess that's what happens whensomebody else deals with it.” She tapped her own shoulder. “I didthis myself.”

When he gave her a rather incredulouslook “Well... Anders finished it off. Apparently, a bloody sword isa really poor choice of bone saw. Who knew?”

That time, Kaaras did chuckle. It wasa rough sound, probably because he hadn't really spoken much. He satup a little straighter, wincing as he felt nothing but air when hetried to use his left arm to prop himself up. It was kind offrustrating, being without his dominant arm.

“I'm never going to get used tothat.”

The small warrior at his side shookher head. “You mostly will. Sometimes you'll forget and fall flaton your face. I've done it twice, and nobody's let me live it down.Hopefully, you do it less than me. There's a lot more air betweenyour face and the ground.”

That there was.

Kaaras made sure to use his right armon his next attempt to sit up. He dwarfed Avery when he did, and hisneck throbbed from the awkward positioning. In response, she stoodand sat on the back of her chair, never even rocking it once.

“Anyway, Varric wanted me to talkto you to make you feel better. I don't know what I could do, I'm notexactly known for my bedside manner.” She shrugged. “So, getbetter and get your ass back in the field. I bet that big qunari guya sovereign that you could beat your brother in hand to hand.”

He had to snort at that. “Really,hand to hand?”

“What, your brother's a mage. Ifyou can't beat him in good old fashioned ass kicking, we have biggerproblems.”

Somewhere, he was pretty sure Akriwas sneezing. It would be easy to spot, since a building might move alittle bit.

Kaaras shook his head in response.“You'd be surprised what he can do with that mace.”

“Yeah, but mages are squishy, evenif they are 7 feet tall with horns.” She grinned. “It's like alaw of the universe. Qunari are big, the chantry sucks ass, and magesare squishy.”

No doubt the newly Divine would havea problem with some of those proclamations, but he couldn't see muchwrong with them. Others might, particularly those in the 'squishy'category, but they weren't in the room so they had no vote at themoment.

At least, that was what he would tellthem later. Much later.

One thing did cross his mind as hestared over at his impromptu pep party. He looked down at his own armfor a brief moment, and then back to hers. Their eyes met in themiddle, and she cocked her eyebrow in response.

“What, got a question?”

Kaaras felt his face heat up alittle. “No, I was just wondering about your prosthetic. I've neverseen one work like that.”

Indeed, it had been something of amarvel when they had fought together in the Fade. Most fake limbs hehad seen were somewhat clumsy, but hers moved as if it was actuallyattached to her. Since she currently was a little underhanded at themoment, that wasn't the case. Magic came to mind.

Not surprisingly, she grinned. “Ah,I was wondering when you'd ask. My friends made it for me after mylittle chat with the Arishok. It's enchanted, or so they told me. Idon't understand much besides the little bit of lyrium helps it moveand the rest I do with this.”

At this, she pointed at her ear. Asmall earring sat there, a dull purple at the moment. “This doessome weird magic shit as far as I know. Makes it move. If you wantone, talk to Varric about it. He's the one who set me up. Bit of awarning though, it wears you out like nothing else. I'd advise it forass kicking only.”

Well, maybe he would have to talk tothe dwarf about that once he felt a little more up to it. His armwould probably have to heal up completely first. Since it still hadsome bandages on, the qunari figured he wasn't quite there. Still, itwas better than when he had been brought in. He didn't remember much,but there was the memory of his entire arm pulsing a sickly green.What had happened to it after it was removed, he didn't know andfrankly didn't care to find out.

The further away it was from him thebetter.

“I'll ask Varric later onceeverything's healed up.” Kaaras paused, looking to the side as hedid. “It might come in handy.”

What could he say? He was a suckerfor dumb puns.

Outside the room, he heard a groan.Apparently, they were being watched. Still, it didn't matter. Hechuckled at his own bad joke, and his guest joined him in it. It feltgood to laugh, though it still scraped a little bit. He'd have towork on that.

Avery flashed him another grin as shestood at last, barely coming up to his shoulder when seated. “Anyway,I have to go. Keep this between you and me, but I kind of didn't tellanyone in Starkhaven I was leaving. We've been kind of busy since,you know... the defenestration and accidental takeover. If you needto talk or whatever, send me a bird. I have plenty of bad puns foramputation. Though I gotta say, it seems like you have that undercontrol.”

With a small bow that was not in theleast bit sincere, the small woman left, closing the door behind her.Kaaras was left in the quiet room, listening to her footsteps.Varric's heavier boots followed behind her at a steady pace, but hecould still listen.

“Thanks, Hawke.”

“Hey, you got me out of Starkhavenfor a couple days; we're even.” There was a pause. “I think thebig guy's gonna be ok. He's tough.”

Tough; well, he would have to takeher word for it. Right then, Kaaras really didn't feel much ofanything but bored. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch, right inthat spot between his shoulder blades where his horns kept him fromreaching.

It had been a while since his feethad touched the ground, and they felt rather heavy when he did.Still, once he started, walking wasn't a problem. He still reachedfor the heavy drape with his left hand, though, and frowned when allhe saw was air.

“That's going to get annoying.”

Shaking his head, Kaaras finallyopened the window to peer out. The sunlight nearly blinded him;apparently, it was the middle of the afternoon. Blinking hard, he satback down in bed. What he was going to do next, he had no idea.

But, it sounded like he had sometraining to do. After all, he was never one to help Iron Bull win abet. Just, probably not that day. He had other things to relearn,such as the lost art of shirt buttons. Those kind of came first.

Training was a high third, though.

#Kaaras Adaar-Lavellan #Avery Hawke #reallyfuckinggay

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