❝ You are not the heaviness sitting inside of you. You are not the battlefield where the bodies fall, and you are not the sound of cannons breaking the sky open. You are what happens after the war. The surviving. The healing. The rebuilding. You are the hope. ❞
Míranís Trevelyan, of the Ostwick Circle of Magi
❝Oh, how kind of you to notice. Every morning I wrap
myself up in these tired accoutrements, and I feel that
tingling in my chest, a voice crying out: this will be the day
the Inquisitor appreciates the smoothest areola donated to
our paltry forces. The fulfillment running through me is
unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
——Perhaps you’d sign it?
Commemorate the event.
Clearly it must mean something
to you if you’d come all this way just to bring it up.❞
▐ ♕ —-┊❝ Dorian, as much as I would enjoy signing your --- er... smooth
areola, I simply could not. Because, everyone would then deem
it necessary to ask me to sign theirs && before you know it,
my hand will be cramping from having to decorate so many a
bosom with my beautiful signature.
---- And, I did not come all this way to bring up yours.
It just happened. Of all the people in Thedas to shift a topic of
conversation from one thing to you, I'm just surprised that it
wasn't... well, you. Anyway, I thought you might appreciate my
little discovery. I think I'm going to show Cassandra next. Ah... I
can almost hear her sound sound of disgust now. Well, Maker
knows I need a good punch to the face, and she's best qualified
to do as much, so. ❞
▐ ♕ —-┊ “ Are you a new recruit? ”
Eyes don't leave the report they are scanning,
&&. the presence is known only due
to feeling rather than sight.
“ -- If so, you should speak with Commander Cullen. I wouldn't
be much help, I'm afraid. ” She looks up at last, smile faltering
only a little as she regards the man. Familiar, but not enough
to stir her into recognition, evidently.
“A free dramatic reading. Usually I only do
those for ten sovereigns, three rounds of
shitty ale, and a few new earrings. But I’d
have so much fun telling it to you while you
stood on my head. Dunno if it’s worth all that, really."
▐ ♕ —-┊ “ You may have won this battle, Tethras,
but this war is far from over. When you
least expect it, I will stand on your head
and you will not enjoy it. Mark my words. ”
▐ ♕ —-┊ “ If you're going to make a comment on my
appearance, can you do so quickly? Yes, I
know I've got dirt on my face. No, I didn't
sleep in a haystack-- well, I did... sort of fall
into one, but that is entirely irrelevant. ”
“In that case— stand on my head all you want,
your Inquisitorialness. Need a step stool to
help you get up there? A spyglass to look out
over the rolling hills? I could do a dramatic
reading of Swords and Shields while you’re up there.”
▐ ♕ —-┊ “ Oh, now that isn't fair. Exploiting weaknesses is
only fun when it's not my weaknesses that are
being exploited. Although, a dramatic reading of
Swords and Shields is a hard thing to pass up... ”
▐ ♕ —-┊ “ It would be much more interesting than riding a horse, I suppose. Still, I
think the mere fact of how tremendously he would enjoy it makes me not
want to do it all the more. It's all backwards for me: if they'll like it, I won't
and if they won't like it, I will. Hence, why I want to use your head as a
means to launch me into our enemies in battle. ”
▐ ♕ —-┊ “ Are you truly unafraid of your Calling? I don't mean
only in dying. I do not think any of us fear death so
much in theory, but to walk knowingly to it... I would
imagine such a thing to be unsettling at the very least. ”
“Ten, definitely ten. Go climb Tiny
if you need a ‘tactical advantage’.”
▐ ♕ —-┊ Míra tsked. Dwarves, so inconsiderate.
“ Oh, but that's such a longer way down to fall, Varric! And
those horns... not comfortable at all. Not that I would know. ”
Maker, but Míra was so tired. Every spell she cast, every swivel of her staff... it
all seemed so hopeless. Every which way she looked more bloody spiders came
crawling out of the woodwork -- Andraste's tits, she hated the things. A memory
struck her suddenly, just as she drove the edge of her staff into one of the foul
creatures, and the Lady Trevelyan couldn't help but wonder why in the world her
subconscious had thought that to be an appropriate time to reminiscence.
Six years old, home in Ostwick -- not the Circle, but h o m e. Sitting in the
garden and playing with her dolls, a high dragon was attacking and an evil
templar was riding it, and then she saw it. A big spider -- not as big as the
ones her older self would be battling, but big still to a six year old child --
crawled from the dragon onto her hand, and she'd screamed for her
mother, crying and shaking in innocent fear. “ It's all right, my child.
I'll always be here, you needn't fear. ” //
But she isn't here, is she?
Thrown into the Circle once your magic was revealed, fated to become one of many
FORGOTTEN children, kept in a pretty cage while unfamiliar men clipped your wings
away. What does it feel like to be the shame of your family's name? Soon the shame
of Thedas, too? You shall not succeed, Trevelyan. You will fail, you will fail, you
will fail. This world shall fall to ash and your name will be naught but a curse spoken
by those unfortunate enough to inhabit it. // Míra gave a strangled yell as she cast
another spell. These thoughts are not my own.
“ It's just a nightmare... ” She ducked as
Varric shot at the Nightmare's Aspect, hair coming loose from it's braid as the Inquisitor
spun around. “ All we have to do is wake up. ” She summoned a ball of energy between
her hands, throwing it straight into the Aspect's chest and watching -- with no small
amount of pleasure -- as it faded away into obscurity.
Their victory was to be short lived, however. “ The way is clear. Go, let's go! ”
Mira motioned for the others to move ahead of her, practically shoving Varric to move
faster towards the opening. She turned back towards the Fade opening for a fleeting
moment, being rewarded with the sight of her three companions making it through
safely. One--- three less things to worry about. Alistair was further behind Cassandra,
Dorian, and Varric, and Hawke... where was Hawke?
The Champion seemed rather affected by whatever nightmarish thoughts had seeped in
to her mind, and a bolt of panic shot right down Míra's spine. Later, in all the times she
would look back on that very moment, the youngest Trevelyan would recognise it as the
moment she knew, without a doubt, that they would not all be leaving the Fade.
“ Hawke! Alistair! We hav--- ” Her words cut off into a gasp, and her dark eyes looked up
in horror to see the Nightmare -- the true nightmare -- appear once again, standing right
between the three and their escape.
▐ ♕ —-┊ “ I don't remember what happened. Poking and
prodding isn't going to make me regain what I've
apparently lost. ” She doesn't mean to snap, but
the budding Inquisition has stretched her nerves
thin. What she wouldn't give for a five week nap.
▐ ♕ —-┊ “ Did you know that there's a nipple in Varric's author's
portrait? An actual nipple. It's not even his, but--! Or...
well, actually, this should hardly be scandalous to you,
considering your own is in full view always. ”
This isn’t quite what I expected. I thought there’d
be… well, more. What exactly am I supposed to
do here? ”
▐ ♕ —-┊ “ OH, RIGHT. Yes. I, too, was unimpressed by a huge fortress hidden in the
Frostback Mountains. It takes a lot more to impress folk like us, like I don't know, a
bloody archdemon... ” Her last words are muttered, but painted still with sarcasm and
just a hint of exasperation. “ What exactly-- would you like me to write you a day-to-
day schedule or something? You're supposed to help. Offer guidance, or knowledge,
bind more dragons, maybe... or do something that might aid us in stopping Corypheus.
... If you're looking for something a little less grand on the other
hand, how good are you with fixing leaky roofs? ”
“ And not even once did you stop to think, ‘Hey, maybe since one
of my cohorts kidnapped the Champion’s favourite dwarf, she
might show up! Coming from Kirkwall, she probably hates the cold.’ ”
Now she was just facetious. Contrary to popular belief, she did not
believe that the world revolved around her. Only most of it. “ But
you’re right, I suppose. If you’d settled on a nice beach by the sea,
the Iron Bull seems the sort to go skinny dipping. I’m not sure I
could handle that. ”
▐ ♕ —-┊ “ Stop to think? Ha! You obviously think too much of me.
'Thinking' has only been my job for the last month or so,
before that it was just making as many bad decisions as
possible and seeing if I got kicked out. Didn't work. Now I'm
the Inquisitor. ” She feigned a forlorn sigh.
She waved a hand. “ Bull's naked enough as it is. I'm sure he
would have skinny dipped in Haven if it was just a little less...
frozen. I get the strange feeling that he would sink if given the
opportunity, though... eh, best to keep him away from large
bodies of water. ”
▐ ♕ —-┊ “ Well… ” A long, drawn out sigh followed the word, and
Míra tapped a long finger on her chin while considering a
response. Personally, she liked the cold; it was easier to
warm up than it was to cool down, in her opinion — casting
ice and cooling spells just didn’t come as naturally to her.
“ As preferable as it would have been to find somewhere
warm and sunny to claim, we had to take into account the
sad truth that Solas’ head just wouldn’t survive the constant
sunburn, the poor fellow. ”
