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possamble · 29 days

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What are your headcanons about Marcille's mom if you have any? It's interesting that what drew Donato to her was cause she lived the history he studied, or that was said somewhere at least. She must've had an interesting life.

so this was going to be just a normal answer but then I realized I have a Lot of Things To Say. so here goes, a compilation of what we know for a fact from the canon, what I've extrapolated from the visual cues and details, and my theories based on all of that.

Things we know for a fact about Marcille's mother because they were explicitly stated in the manga and supplemental materials:

She was a court mage for a Tall-man kingdom at the southern part of the Northern Continent

Donato, a court historian, fell in love with her because she had lived through the history he was studying, and he courted her for 17 years (age 15 to 32) before getting married

She was a cheerful person who rarely showed extreme emotion and took things as they came

She always cooked a huge meal for Marcille on her birthdays

She remarried a gnome after Donato's death and a short distance away from Marcille's childhood home

Pipi, Marcille's pet bird, was actually older than Marcille and originally belonged to her mother (bird died at 62)

She was extremely heartbroken when Donato died and ultimately ended up instilling a deep fear of mortality in Marcille with her words

the only time she showed extreme emotion in front of her family was when Donato could no longer eat his favourite dish near the end of his life.

She scolded Marcille for being cruel to ants (implying she can have a stern side when needed)

Things that are explicitly shown but mostly through visual cues

She has a very distinctive style of dress always involving a ribbon choker (mirroring Marcille's habit of always wearing a matching choker with any of her outfits that don't cover her neck)

She was almost stereotypically good at housekeeping and traditionally "wifely" things (very frequently depicted wearing an apron or doing some domestic chore when not at work, seems to have been an avid cook).

She knits? (also, note the affectionate smile as she's looking at Donato and Marcille reading a book together in the full panel)

She was as excited for Marcille's milestones as Donato was.

She didn't tell Marcille much about elven food

(there are a couple things that this panel in particular implies:

She lived a good deal of her life (if not being born and raised) in a mainly elven country in the West, implied by her knowing enough of an elven region's cuisine to prefer Tall-man food over it

seems to have a pretty carefree and casual demeanour overall, if this is how she replied to Marcille asking her about it (sounds like she never gave her culinary preferences that much thought to begin with)

slightly related to number 2, it seems like she and Marcille had a fairly casual parent-child dynamic (especially in comparison to the Toudens' memory of their father)

(local elf tastes Italian food once and never goes back))

However, she seems a lot more... serious in most of the other times we see her? Almost like the very stereotypical archetype of a graceful elf.

Subsequent conclusions about her personality:

Usually pretty carefree and cheerful at home, has been a loving and attentive parent throughout Marcille's childhood (while not being so doting that she didn't discipline Marcille).

Slightly more conjectural theories on her personality:

Had a much more graceful and professional personality at work, which would explain the more serious portraits we see of her.

Given that both she and Donato had positions at the royal court, it seems a little odd that she'd go out of her way to do all the housework herself, so maybe she just enjoyed doing it?

Now taping all the evidence together and toeing the line between analysis and fanfiction:

It's clear that she loved Donato very much and was utterly devastated by losing him. But there's one thing that really stuck out to me in what little we see of her:

Doesn't she seem... angry? The way she's gritting her teeth, clutching the tablecloth, and how this is the first and only time we see her eyes opened that wide. In the following panel, you see her being quiet and dejected after her initial outburst. She's still crying very intensely, but her brows are furrowed, and she's not really responding to Donato's affection in her body language.

We're not told the details of how she felt about losing Donato other than that it upset her. But this, to me, implies that she was angry and resented that he was aging, that the end of his life was approaching. An "it's not fair" type of preemptive grief. And if this was the first and last time she cried like this in front of her family, she was either very good at coping in private... or very bad at letting herself feel unpleasant emotions until they become unavoidable and end up overwhelming her.

It's not too remarkable a detail on the surface. It's even reminiscent of what the audience has seen of Marcille. But... when it comes to the big picture, you'd think an elf who voluntarily chose to marry a tall-man and have a half-elf child would have been better prepared for this.

It kind of recontextualizes her cheerfulness to me.

"I'm sure everything's gonna be okay!" (or some variation thereof, depending on what translation you have).

And this is stated to contrast her extreme grief when finally confronting Donato's failing body and eventual death. But I'm wondering if... maybe this optimism was why she was so upset. What if she went into all of it thinking "everything's gonna be okay"? What if she was a little young by elven standards, and just followed her heart thinking that her own resilience would get her through anything?

Of course, only to get completely overwhelmed when she actually loses Donato. She turns into a completely different person. And that's heartbreaking on its own-- but what the audience sees is the effect it had on Marcille. Can you imagine being her, watching your invincible and upbeat mother suddenly lose all the light in her eyes in one go?

I've already made a huge post about how I think Marcille models her "work persona" off her mother, but another thing that stuck with me as I was looking for more details in the manga was this:

copy pasting from the other post i made about it lmao it's like... the second she resigns herself to lifelong pain and terror, there's another portrait of her mother facing her like this. with their heads bowed, in mirrored body language of resignation and despair and sorrow. Except it's posed like Marcille is still looking at her mother but her mother is looking away.

It took me a second to realize, but I think that it's a visual metaphor for the fact that Marcille's mother was the only long-lived role model she had-- and she failed to model healthy grief for her daughter. I don't say this as an accusation or to disparage her as a character, but just as a matter of fact. In her, Marcille was seeing herself older and losing a short-lived spouse or loved one of her own, and all she saw was hopelessness.

But her mother didn't mean to instill hopelessness and terror in her. She wasn't really thinking of how it would truly affect Marcille at all (at least, that's how I'm interpreting her looking down and away from Marcille in the metaphor), she was just sad. And she, in her own way, was trying to protect her daughter and help her prepare for future losses.

What she meant was "loss is inevitable, and you have to learn how to be in pain but live on anyway." What Marcille heard was "loss is inevitable, and you will be scared and hurt for the rest of your life."

Again. Marcille's mother doesn't feature explicitly in the story the way her father does -- but in so many ways, her shadow, her silhouette, her reflection is always hanging over Marcille.

All that to say... headcanon-wise (everything from here on is 100% without evidence lmao), I'd like to think that she matured and realized that she failed Marcille. I imagine her being regretful about it, wanting a chance to fix it but never finding a way to insert herself back into Marcille's life when Marcille is so so so busy becoming the most accomplished mage possible. I imagine her being herself again, now, so many years after her loss and after remarrying -- but with her cheerfulness tempered with a lot more wisdom and the pain of having gone through loss like that. I think the second Marcille actually tells her what happened in the dungeon, she'd want to go running to her daughter again -- if Marcille tells her the full truth instead of just being embarrassed she let things get that far. (oh, the tragedy of her wanting to be more like her mother and an accomplished adult who doesn't need to be babied... being embarrassed to actually tell her mother how much she fucked up...)

There's also the tension of her having remarried -- I know that there's at least a little bit of resentment that Marcille harbours about that, because she's childish like that at heart even if she makes an effort not to externalize it. I think that her mother would be aware of that, potentially adding to her sense of guilt and apprehension at trying to reappear/intrude on Marcille's life. I honestly don't think Marcille has met her stepfather -- or even considers him a stepfather rather than "mama's new husband" and kind of a total stranger. I think she and her mother actively don't talk about it in their correspondence, like an elephant in the room.

but, ultimately, I think her mother is on her side no matter what. Ancient magic? Dark necromancy? Sure, she'll feel guilty and like she was partially responsible for setting Marcille down such a painful path, but she wouldn't care. that's her daughter!! she would've moved back west and been petitioning for her at the court, buying a house right next to the Canaries barracks and visiting her every day that she wasn't on a mission. And if her husband had opinions on Marcille becoming a "dark arts user," he either gets over it or it's divorce with him. Yes, she might have had her optimism completely humbled by losing Donato like that -- but she's still headstrong and self-assured and she doesn't care what people think of her. It's her way or the highway and she's always going to be in Marcille's corner.

(She also needs a name lol. I went with Juno, just to be cute about "Marcille"s closest real life equivalent being Marcella, which is the female version of Marcellus, which in turn is a diminutive of Marcus, which was derived from Mars. Absolutely in love with Marcille potentially being named after Ares/Mars the fucking god of war btw)

#asks #she could easily be interpreted as distant or neglectful after Donato's death too #with how little involvement she has in Marcille's life/the fact that Marcille doesn't even mention her when talking about her life prospect #and that's fair! I will argue to hell and back that she was a loving parent when Donato was alive #but there's nothing that suggests she remained a loving parent afterwards #I just think that like... parental relationships are so complicated in dungeon meshi #you cannot deny that the toudens' mother loved them dearly but that she failed them both miserably as a parent #and i think it'd be more compelling if Marcille's mother was a little like that too #not a totally and easily dismissable deadbeat #but someone who truly loves her daughter but was only human herself and couldn't be what Marcille needed at a crucial moment #and regrets it deeply #and that the distance between them is mutually self-imposed by complicated feelings of guilt and fear #and a little resentment from Marcille's side that she hasn't really properly processed #I don't know if I'll ever get around to writing it but i had this idea where Marcille does finally spill the beans to her mom and she just #immediately arrives in Melini #and its awkward for a bit but they do finally have a heart to heart and air it all out #and marcille starts freaking out that her marriage is rocky rn bc her new husband wants her to distance herself from marcille #on account of the crimes and all #marcille's like no you can't blow up your marriage for me and her mother just shuts that shit down #'you didn't choose to be born. i was the one who made that choice for you'#'i brought you into this world and i'll be damned if i don't take responsibility for that the entire way'#'you are entitled to *nothing less* than my unconditional love.'#and obviously that's not a sentiment that's exactly healthy as a universal statement about parenthood #but i think its what her mother would believe and what marcille needs to hear #and dungeon meshi does such a fantastic job at just... letting imperfect things just *be* without having to justify it immediately #it expects the audience to do their own critical thinking #and know that its not trying to make sweeping universal statements in every instance #marcilleposting #marcille donato #junoposting

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p2ii · 5 months

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'we need more stories with complex and nunaced themes and world building that doesn't exist in black and white/where no one is uniquely good or bad' y'all can't even handle the freedom fighter trope when they use 2% violence in their own liberation

#wishy washy centrism in media is so fucking annoying #and while I absolutely DO NOT want to equate fiction to reality in this instance. it has become (unfortunately) unsurprisingly apparent som #of y'all are scarily susceptible to propaganda #y'all can't handle jet and hama from at/la #y'all can't handle scar from fma #y'all can't handle sasuke uchiha. or hell even fucking NEJI HYUUGA #from what I've heard some of y'all can't even handle sabo the revolutionary (based on reactions to his indifference towards cobras death #iirc? I'm not caught up yet)#yall cant handle reading beyond the text and holding things like racial allagorys to proper scrutiny. or people being rightfully critical o #fan fave media and characters *cough* rvvby and at/la *cough* when someone may think their portrayal of a complex issue wasnt perfect #psii.txt #i hope im getting the general point across. i like this format but i think this specific fandom behaviour is a bit more complicated seeing #my essay and a half in the tags

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the-cosmos-withinus · 5 months

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Shadow Puppets AU - the Deadwardian Era

A little while ago I mentioned that Bragi and I had finished the part of the RP that takes place in the Deadwardian Era, and I wanted to do a little special something for it, so have a poster, we've been writing this since late April so it's too long for Tumblr's character limit, here is a Google Doc with a summary of the events in the thread, too

#shadow puppets au #philip wittebane #toh collector #lore post #RP #We have other threads that have been finished for a while and I'm planning to do other posters/plot summaries like this for them #but we have some lore posts that need to be made firsts so some of it makes more sense -procrastinates-#Hint: this is not the only instance where the Time Pools have more significance than in canon #We're fucking with the Timeline like all hell lads #evelyn clawthorne

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royalarchivist · 5 months

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Every time I see someone cite one of my clips when telling people about a particular charater, analyzing a specific interaction, or making lore predictions, it always warms my heart.

#mod talk #tbd #Like hell yeah. That's what the archives are for #primary! sources!#Brought to you by me seeing a dumb as hell take on my fave then scrolling down and seeing someone going #''Well actually this is explicitly incorrect as seen in this clip—''#Petty aguments are stupid and I always advocate for blocking people if they're annoying (even if you've never interacted with them)#However: helpfully directing someone to a primary source can be nice sometimes #it's a case by case thing but in this specific instance I was like #''I'm glad the clips I share (esp of non-English speaking ccs) help people get to know their characters better''#I just like hearing / seeing people make good use of the archive #wish I had time to do more but alas.

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quietwingsinthesky · 9 months

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Do you agree w/ the fandom interpretation that john was so homophobic he’d have beaten up and abandoned his sons for being gay? Cause sure, he grew up in the 60s as a mechanic and then later became a marine during the vietnam war, but i also don’t think homophobia would’ve necessarily been a priority for him? Like obviously he’s not gonna be the full on supportive and politically correct loving dad, but i think that the fandom’s general opinion on that is pretty warped by people’s relationships w/ their own fathers

I do think this is one place where people tend to project. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that; working out our issues through fiction is healthy and good! I don’t think there’s any canon proof of it beyond, as you said, him being a marine from the sixties who would probably not be super knowledgeable about being queer, maybe a little apprehensive about it from what he’s absorbed through the culture he grew up in. I think we’d be correct to point out that if Sam or Dean were queer, he might be uncomfortable about it, he might try to avoid the topic, which is in of itself hurtful.

The thing about me is: I fully disagree that John was ever physically abusive towards his kids. At most, I will bend this interpretation to say he was probably too harsh on them while teaching them to fight and that maybe he and Sam have traded blows before when arguments got too loud (by blows, I mean, probably shoving with the yelling, you know, assertion of physical space. It seems realistic to me that two people who have been using violence for a long time to protect themselves, and for John, his family, down to the hierarchal power he’s put in place of him -> Dean -> Sam, would resort to it when things got too heated.)

(I also think that sometimes fandom’s insistence that John had to be physically abusive can sometimes get a little insulting because it perpetuates the idea that emotional abuse does less harm and can be overlooked and for flattening out John’s character in a way the show very literally pointed to and said He Did Not Do That. This is the entire point of Max’s episode in s1, for the show to point out that their experiences of abuse were different. How well it was handled is arguable, but I take it as clear evidence that when we talk about John’s relationship with his sons, the focus should be on the emotional abuse, the codependency he developed with Dean from a very young age, his neglect of them both, his attempts to suppress Sam, etc. And I appreciate this about the show, because you can’t talk about any of those things without also talking about why they’re happening, why John thinks this is necessary, how he loves his sons and isolates them to protect them and ends up doing more and more damage that will never leave them through their entire lives.

I’m sure there’s depictions of John being physically abusive that handle it with the same amount of nuance that the show handles him being emotionally abusive in canon. I have not seen them, unfortunately. I’ve seen John being physically abusive 90% of the time just being used as shorthand for him being Bad and Evil and A Terrible Father. Which does not interest me. So I will remain here as a staunch defender of He Would Not Fucking Hit His Kids.)

Sorry, okay, we got off topic there this is about gay shit.

The point of All Of That was for me to be able to say, John’s not going to react to his sons being queer by beating them. He’s definitely not going to abandon them. Hello? John Winchester? Abandon his kids? John Winchester, the guy who has been keeping them in warded up motel rooms their whole lives and moving them across the country out of paranoia the demon who killed his wife could find them if they say anywhere too long? John Winchester who only trusted one or two people to ever look after his sons when he went on a hunting trip too long? We think that John would ditch his kid because they’re queer???

Like I said, I think the most realistic reaction for John, (if not just flat out him going ‘that’s fine, now load this gun while I time you because that’s more important for me to know that you can do’, because. He kind of has bigger priorities to worry about here. Like werewolves.) would be discomfort and pushing it out of his view, ignoring it. Which would still fucking hurt! And would have horrible effects on Sam and Dean both, would encourage Dean to repress it if he thinks his dad is ashamed of him, would push Sam away if he trusts John with this fact about himself and can’t be accepted easily.

I just think this is truer to John’s character.

Anyway. If nothing else here persuades anyone reading that John Would Not Fucking Do That, well. He thought his kid was demonspawn, remember? He thought Sam was corrupted and might not be able to be saved. I don’t think you can get more clear queercoding than that, and you know what John’s very telling response was to that information, to finding out something a thousand times more terrifying than Sam being gay ever could be? To refuse to look at it. To insist to himself that whatever Hell wanted with Sam, he wouldn’t let it happen. To tell Dean to take care of it, because even when John is certain that his son might literally become a demon, he could never bring himself to pull the trigger on him. Because he loves Sam.

So like. He literally would not do anything for the much smaller realization that Sam is gay. His son has demon blood that might turn him super evil, and John still wouldn’t hurt him.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is, I try to keep the fact that John loved his sons at the forefront of my mind when I’m writing stuff about him, because I think if you let that slide out of your head, you can very easily make him much worse, much more flat than he was in canon. The real picture of him is just an extremely flawed man in a terrible situation who fucks up his kids as much as he protects them.

And also he wouldn’t care about them being gay because JohnAzazel real and true and they fucked sloppy in that hospital basement-

#this was so many words holy shit I did not need to ramble that much #but I did <3 #this is what u get when u send me an ask I have too many thoughts #john winchester #ask #spn #again reiterating that like. it is not a bad thing to work out ur issues through fiction.#hell knows I do. and hell knows I used to be a lot less kind to John BECAUSE daddy issues. so I get it. it’s literally fine. it’s fandom.#u are free to do whatever so long as you aren’t a dick to other people about the character they like that you dont #(…I am going to side eye you if you feel the need to insist john had to be physically abusive because he was just That Bad to his kids.#but that’s more like. ‘I think you might have some unexamined biases about the nuances of abuse.’ more than anything.)#tw abuse #re: John abandoning his kids:#I know Bad Boys(?) has John leaving dean at the boy’s home. uh. personally?#I think that’s just bad writing. I think they misunderstood John’s particular brand of weird relationship to dean.#I don’t tend to count that instance as canon or at least not in the way the show presented it.#but ur mileage obv may vary. it’s just my opinion that that was a later seasons fumble.

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crocomom · 3 months

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I think it's funny that Doctor Who has had at least two companion exits happen because of memory loss when it's honestly a pretty terrible plot device. Two separate showrunners on two separate occasions looked at the characters they'd been developing for 1-2 seasons and went "yknow what this needs? Characters that haven't been changed in the slightest by what they went through because they can't fucking remember it"

#out of the two instances that i'm thinking of (journey's end with donna and ten / hell bent with clara and twelve)#i do think hell bent did it better #because 1) nobody had their brain forcibly wiped (although it was a close call)#2) the doctor is kind of a more...not gonna say static character because >regeneration but something adjacent to that #he has an arc and he changes but it's much more gradual. you can take away 2 seasons from him and leave his story mostly complete #as opposed to clara who would've lost most of her character development #and 3) there ARE residues of clara/their adventures together left in the doctor's memory but he just can't really access them #while with donna it was like. If You Ever Remember The Doctor Your Brain Will Explode And Burn Up And Kill You Dead #anyway. thank god for the new specials #dwposting #clara oswald #twelfth doctor #donna noble #tenth doctor

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insufferablemod · 2 months

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Wait u draw aip with jsut ur left hand????

asddshfjg yeah so i injured my hand like 2 ish days after starting askinsuffereableprick,,,,, i pushed through the pain for like 3 or so posts(not smart), in total there have been 8 posts on that blog that were done with my right hand, everything after oct 7th is left handed lmao

#the hand injury was partially cus of the blog yes #it was mainly hyperfocusing at school for weeks straight but going from that into an intense weekend of dave arting........................#may not have been the best idea lmao #at this point with stabilizer there isnt a Huge difference between my left n right art #but its more noticeable traditionally #mainly if i use a pen then its still shaky as hellllll #my main complaint now is its still much slower And i cant use keyboard shortcuts :(#which slows me down extra much and limits what i can do in some instances #but fcking hell like at the start?? i was filling out a character sheet and there was a 5 minute laughing session cus it was like....#literally incomprehensible #so ive come a long way >:)#the hannd is also maybee kinda getting better a bit #im giving it another month of rest at Least #probably like 2..... hopefully it wont need more then that................................................................#ask #anon #rambles

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ailithnight · 11 months

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It's wild, found you on a Tumblr screenshot on Instagram

I don't know how to feel about this.

On the one hand, I stand by that statement. Good words to live by. On the other...

HELP! THEY TOOK ME FROM MY NATIVE HABITAT! I AM STRICTLY A TUMBLRINA! I DON'T BELONG ON INSTAGRAM! I WON'T SURVIVE!

#: P #Actually this isn't the first time this has happened #Pretty sure I've been in a pm seymour video too #With 'I like to velociraptor around my house ar 2am'#I literally only use Tumblr #So if there are any more instances where my dumbassery broke containment #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#The world may know but I sure as hell won't

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partystoragechest · 6 months

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A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, there are fireworks. Sort of.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 2,767. Rating: all audiences.)

Chapter 22: Hardly Working

The Inquisition’s red lyrium sample was kept far, far below.

Far below the Undercroft, where Trevelyan and Dagna prepared for their descent. Far below the dungeons, where two guards escorted them further down. Far below the sounds of people and life. Far, far below.

Door after door barred their path, each more fortified than the last. The keys were old and rusted, having existed much longer than the castle’s current occupants. Passages beyond were long and winding. One was not supposed to know the way. The stone of the stairs they descended appeared as if new. Few feet had ever trespassed here.

Trevelyan could not help but wonder for what this place had originally been built to contain.

Lower still they went. The darkness that had settled upon these steps was cast aside by the light of a torch, held aloft in the hand of one of their guides. Trevelyan felt its warmth in the air, and glanced nervously at the small chest Dagna carried. Their device lay inside—insulated, inert. But it was still within Trevelyan to worry.

The long stairwell curved, the end at last coming into sight, a chamber door revealed. Daylight—somehow, daylight—poured through its barred window, casting a slotted shadow upon the floor. Had they come so far as to breach the bottom of the mountain?

“Here we are,” said a guard, producing the largest, oldest, and most complex key yet. “Be careful, Arcanist; your Ladyship.”

He opened the door. Breath escaped Trevelyan’s body.

The cavern beyond was thrice the size of the Undercroft, in both height and depth. And like the Undercroft, it, too, had a maw: a narrow fissure running high across the back wall, like the slash of a gigas claw, through which light spilled in its gallons.

This, however, was not the central feature of the space. Indeed, it was only there to light the central feature of the space. For in this chamber, suspended by the strength of three large chains, was a small stone chest. Red.

The size of the cavern was such that, in the doorway as they were, Trevelyan and Dagna still stood a good sixty feet from it. But its glow was evident. Cracks in the stone, where the red lyrium had broken its bonds, pulsated with that eerie colour. Trevelyan felt she should step no closer.

“Smart to keep it off the ground,” she commented.

“Have to,” Dagna replied. “Grows fast! We change the casket every three weeks—sometimes the chains, too, if it’s gotten a little enthusiastic.”

“I take it that’s why it’s made of stone?”

“Yeah! Grows through it slower than metal or wood—especially wood. It loves organic material! But for stone, I think it… respects it, kind of? Like it remembers where it comes from, almost… Anyway! Let’s get to it!”

With brazen confidence, Dagna marched beyond the threshold. Trevelyan remained reluctant to follow. Little wonder she was being paid so well.

Swallowing her unease, she left the guards posted at the door, and entered the room. But as soon as she did, she could feel it.

She had been near lyrium, before. The Formari in her Circle used it, and she would sometimes have to visit their workshops in the midst of her storeroom duties. Dagna employed it quiet frequently, too, but Trevelyan would keep to the other side of the Undercroft, or run errands. She didn’t like it, particularly. It made her dizzy.

Red lyrium was worse. Only a few feet closer, and a hum entered her mind. A constant, droning hum. There was pressure on her head, too—like a hand, pushing down with all its might. Trevelyan tried not to give it her attention.

“All right,” Dagna said, setting down her chest about forty feet from the casket, “let’s activate!”

Slow and careful, she lifted the lid. Trevelyan held her breath.

But as their device was revealed, the world remained still—and Trevelyan was grateful for it. Though it did not look one, this thing they had created was better called a bomb.

Dagna reached in, and lifted it out. A small, but thick, metal disc, held best and most carefully in two hands. Trevelyan’s eyes searched the surface for any change. But the runes inscribed onto it—runes of her own design—maintained a faint glow. Safe.

The moment it touched the ground, Dagna whipped out her toolbelt. Trevelyan took up her usual position, ready and willing to do or hold anything that Dagna instructed her to. Theory was more her domain. The practical—this—was best left to Dagna.

And so she tinkered away, runes beginning to brighten. The buzz of its growing magic competed for space in Trevelyan’s mind. She began to gather Fade energy around her fingers. Just… in… case...

“Ooh, shiny!”

Trevelyan startled, and whirled. Dorian Pavus stood beside her, gazing down on Dagna’s work. He noticed Trevelyan’s stare, and smiled.

“Dorian?”

“Don’t mind me”—he winked—“just came to see the show.”

Though Trevelyan rolled her eyes, she could not help but smile. “Very well,” she said, and returned her focus to Dagna.

Dorian did the same. He even managed to stay quiet for some number of seconds—though it seemed the banality of observation could not satisfy his ever-operational mind for long. Whilst Trevelyan handed Dagna a precise-looking implement, Dorian asked:

“Will you be attending the banquet?”

Maker, that thing kept slipping her mind. Trevelyan would have to make certain her gown was ready.

“Yes,” she told him, “will you?”

“Physically, yes. Mentally? No.”

Trevelyan laughed. “Likewise.”

“...Have you seen the guest list?”

Trevelyan gave him an exasperated look, but answered regardless: “I have. Though I fear I recognise very few of the names, and know only their characters from the descriptions given to me by the other Ladies.”

“Oh,” Dorian chuckled. “Then you are in for quite the evening! I met some of these people at the Winter Palace. I also met some demons. Completely indistinguishable.”

“Which did you prefer?”

“Oh, I think you know. After all, it’s at least socially acceptable to strike demons with lightning.”

Trevelyan laughed. “The more I hear, the more I wonder why they have all been invited in the first place.”

“Because ‘keeping the peace’, something like that.”

“But why are we all to be involved?” Trevelyan complained.

Dorian smiled. “I hardly know. But far be it from anyone to refuse our lovely Ambassador.”

A flare of magic stole Trevelyan’s attention. She looked back to Dagna, whose grinning face reflected a blue glow. The device below her pulsated, lyrium energy blooming from its carved runes.

“There we go!” she sang. “Activated. How’s that magic amplification feeling?”

“I can certainly feel it!” answered Trevelyan. “I just hope it’s enough to bypass the anti-magic effects.”

Dagna hauled the device into her arms. “So do I, because I added a little extra oomph. Just in case!”

Trevelyan’s eyes widened. “Are you sure that’s a good—!?”

Dagna punted the device towards the red lyrium casket. Trevelyan barely had time to draw breath.

It was like a clap of thunder. Booming sound and blinding light plunged them into darkness. Smoke and dust and falling debris. Reverberations rumbled through the stone around them. Clanging of chains. Whining in the ears. All of Skyhold shuddered, and then fell to silence.

When Trevelyan dared open her firm-shut eyes, a dark and burning haze surrounded her. Yet, it did not touch her. Her arms were outstretched, energy cocooned her. Smoke shifted and moved against the shimmering surface of a protective barrier. She’d got it up just in time.

A quick glance to either side. Dagna was all right, thanks to the magical shield. Seemingly unfazed by the explosion, she looked with shining eyes into the cloud of dust from whence it had come.

Dorian, meanwhile, had had the same idea as Trevelyan. He met her gaze.

“Great minds!” he said, his levity not quite masking the shake in his voice. “Would you like to do the honours”—he nodded towards the smoke—“or shall I?”

“You,” Trevelyan told him, “I’ll hold.”

“Very well. In three, two, one—” Dorian dropped his share of the barrier. Trevelyan held firm.

With her protection, he began to twist his hands. She felt a pull, as he put out his call, and summoned the Fade to their aid.

One of his fists balled up tight, a gathering of energy thickening within. He raised this hand to his face, fingers unfurling before his mouth. With one deep and powerful exhalation, he blew.

His breath turned to a hurricane wind, and blasted forth through the chamber, unimpeded by Trevelyan’s barrier. The smoke and dust was thrown aside. Light poured in once more.

“Wow…” breathed Dagna.

Wow, indeed.

The scene before them had changed entirely. The chains that once suspended the red lyrium chest hung loose, half-extant, against the stone walls. They rattled in the breeze of Dorian’s spell.

The casket they had held? Gone. All that remained in its wake was a large, circular scorch mark, burnt into the floor.

Trevelyan dropped her barrier. “Oh Maker, it worked!”

“Yes!” cheered Dagna, pumping a fist into the air. “It worked! Though, I guess the bad news is, we lost our red lyrium sample!”

Dorian grinned. “Rather the point, wasn’t it?”

“Are you all well?” called one of the guards, from the doorway. Trevelyan had just been about to ask the same of them.

“We’re well!” she replied.

“Mainly because of that barrier of yours,” Dorian muttered. “Good form. Strong. I know very few mages who could create one so stable without a focus—other than myself, of course.”

Trevelyan chuckled. “It was only a barrier.”

“True, but I’ve seen very little magic of yours, and I feel I should like to see more. You’ve got more power than you’re letting on.”

There was a good reason for that: “I suppose I got accustomed to not practicing it. My parents weren’t exactly keen on my using magic around the house.”

Dorian laughed. “We had very different upbringings! But—anyway, you aren’t under the thumb of your parents now. You ought to be loosing fireballs upon the sky.”

“Or causing large explosions?” Trevelyan suggested, gesturing to where Dagna prowled the scorch-circle.

“Fair point.”

Dagna interrupted: “Your Ladyship, we should get started on sweeping the room for trace remains. I want to know if anything was left at all.”

“Absolutely,” said Trevelyan, curious of that herself. She had noticed that the head-pressure was gone—but that did not mean every shard of red lyrium was.

Dorian, meanwhile, took a step back. “Well, you have my congratulations, both of you—but I am leaving before someone asks me to help clean up.”

“I don’t think she meant that kind of sweeping,” said Trevelyan.

“I heard the word ‘sweeping’, I’m leaving,” insisted Dorian. “Best of luck.”

They gave him their farewells and waved him off. Trevelyan watched him as far as the door, then turned away as he disappeared up the stairs. Her eyes were needed on the floor.

But her mind lingered elsewhere.

“Dagna, I’ll be just a moment,” she said, “I need Dorian to pass a message along.”

Dagna gave her leave, and Trevelyan hurried away. With any luck, the sheer amount of stairs would have slowed Dorian down.

And indeed she found him, halfway up. Nearly out of breath, she managed to call:

“Dorian, wait!”

He stopped and waited, sure enough—probably glad of the break. “Miss me already?”

“Naturally, but that is not why I came,” she said, taking a moment. “I wanted to ask, will you tell the Commander we’ve succeeded? He’ll have likely heard the explosion—most of Skyhold will, and I want him to know it’s all right.”

Dorian folded his arms. “And when exactly did I become your messenger boy?”

“I know this is far beneath your standards, but I think he would better see a friend right now, than a... suitor. Given his, ah, current circumstances.”

A sly little chuckle spilled from Dorian’s mouth. “Oh, I think he’d much prefer to see you than I, on any given day. But if you think it best, I shall go and take your glory.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the trouble.”

She expected him to take the message and dart off, but Dorian seemed to settle himself upon the step on which he stood, and fixed her with a stare.

“Are you all right?” he asked, soft.

“Why would I not be?”

“Cullen—the Commander—believed you weren’t, the last we spoke. He mentioned you found him…. you know.”

So Dorian knew. Of course he would, given his friendship with the Commander. Trevelyan did not blame him for not telling her of the circumstances. Such closeness required confidence.

Regardless, she sighed. “I told him yesterday I was fine. Several times.”

Dorian laughed, and moved down a step so that he might join her on hers, and talk more quietly. Those guards were still down there, somewhere. “He is something of a worrywart. You seem all right to me.”

Trevelyan nodded, leaning her back against the wall of the passage. Maker, the stone was cold. “Have you ever seen him like that?”

“No. Though as I understand it, it’s a rare occurrence, for him,” Dorian explained. “The Inquisitor’s seen it, though. Cullen once threw something at our dear Herald’s head!”

Trevelyan’s eyes widened. Dorian must have noticed, for he immediately followed with:

“Well, not at the Inquisitor; the Inquisitor just so happened to walk in at precisely the wrong moment. A habit. Cullen was throwing it at the door, in anger, unaware someone was about to walk through. We all joke about it—it’s how we know he isn’t a spy for Corypheus. If he was, he wouldn’t have missed.”

Trevelyan smiled. She could hardly judge the Commander for acting upon his anger whilst believing himself to be alone. One needed to, sometimes. She’d set some things on fire in private moments. Most recently being yesterday.

Dorian sighed, and shook his head. “I thought he was on the up, you know. He said this one was bad—though you, especially, are already aware of that. Peaks and troughs, I suppose, and you can’t predict when one will follow the other.”

“It is impossible to know,” commiserated Trevelyan. “No one has managed to survive it, to my knowledge. It’s like the Grey Wardens. Departure comes only through death.”

The mention of the latter word seemed to light a fire in Dorian. “Well, let’s hope that’s not the case, shall we? I’m sure it’ll all shake out. After all, the Inquisition’s best boffins are on it—Dagna included! And it’s more than the Chantry’s ever done—though the southern Chantry is not particularly known for doing much…”

Yet another person Trevelyan was now convinced that Baroness Touledy could have a scintillating conversation with. She would merely need an opportunity for introduction. Banquet, perhaps?

“Anyway, I best be off to deliver your message,” he continued. “Though, if I am to do so, I’ll no doubt be asked if I doubled-checked: are you sure you’re all right?”

“Of course,” Trevelyan confirmed. “Is he?”

“Peaks and troughs.”

“I see. Do you think he will attend the banquet?”

Dorian laughed. “I hope not. His table manners are very Fereldan.”

She knew the joke was to make her smile, but she could barely manage it. Her worries were too overpowering. “It’s hardly going to be good for him,” she muttered, continuing—without thinking—to say: “Having us suitors running around after him is pain enough.”

Dorian’s lip quirked upward. “Oh, if you want to talk the ethics of this little competition of yours, it goes far deeper than that.”

The comment pulled Trevelyan from her own mind. “Oh?”

He shrugged. “Well, I’ve not quite put my finger on it yet, but… it all feels rather sordid. Not quite right. Not quite right at all.”

Trevelyan was at once reminded of the argument she overheard between the Commander and Lady Montilyet. Just what had that been about, truly?

“Have you spoken to the Commander about it?”

Dorian laughed. “Oh, you have no idea of what we talk about. You come up quite frequently.”

Trevelyan did not know how to feel about that. Though she was certainly feeling something.

“Ergo,” continued Dorian, “I have. But the man is obstinate, and I feel there may be powers at play that I cannot interfere with.”

“Whose?” asked Trevelyan.

Dorian smiled. “Oh, it’s as I say: far be it from anyone to refuse our lovely Ambassador.”

#unwanted #unwanted fic #look i am more natural with dialogue than description this i know why do u think i chose to write a genre where its people talking a lot #but i reeeeeally wanted the description of the red lyrium chamber to be mission status: sick as hell #i wrote it while fully awake and raring to go #and wrote the rest when i was tired and barely had time #and would you BELIEVE which part i ended up rewriting every day for five days on the trot #SPOILER: IT WASN'T THE PART I WROTE WHILE HALF-ASLEEP #this was my first instance of writer's block for a while and it suuuuuuuucked!!!!! almost in tears!!!! wtf!!!! its just silly words!!!#anyway thats enough complaining enjoy goodnight i am out!!!

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