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Maria is my favorite bounty hunter.

Thank you for creating this game.@jamesshawgames

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Tried to draw the heart-to-heart scene with CG

The moment that CG said dime’s real name…

@drinkyourvillainjuice

[walkerwing]

hi !! i absolutely adore your art so much! <33 can you potentially draw more meetra x atris ? 👉👈 i love them in your style and they've taken over my brain

👌

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I keep thinking about what is the captivating about Cousland Warden in DAA. Mainly, I think, because at the very beginning of everything, all she wanted was to avenge her parents and find her brother. And from there began a long wandering—she gave her body over to demon-tainted blood, gave the rest of her life over to the duty of protecting others—and beneath all of it, the premise was nothing more than a child who had lost her home and had nothing left.

In DAA, anyone who sees her must bow their head and call her the Hero of Ferelden, the Grey Warden-Commander. She defied the Circle to shelter Anders, forgave Nathaniel, promised Velanna she would find her sister—as if under her rule, even the stray cats of Amaranthine would have eaves to return to when it rained. But when that great fire in 9:30 burned everything clean away, when her family name was spat upon among the nobility, did anyone help her? The only person who knew how wounded she was, how she fled Highever with despair and fury in her arms, is no longer in this world. Now, all they remember is the Arlessa of Amaranthine. But do they remember where her home was? Do they know what Highever looked like before it was burned down? Do they know what the oak tree you once climbed in the courtyard looked like? Do they know that, after finishing your pages after pages of political reports, you would sometimes look toward that small west-facing window in Vigil’s Keep, the one facing the mountain? Do they know that beyond that mountain, it was your home?

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I love how DAO depicted the "two departures" in Leliana's character arc. At her core, she is driven by the desire to find a harbor where she belongs, yet her most pivotal moments in the story revolve around "leaving".

As the story begins, Orlais is a city filled with tons of gold coins, bronze mirrors engraved with avian motifs, and taxidermy beasts stitched together by fire. In the grand court, within every gleam of a silver blade, every reflection in a pool of blood, and the eyes of her lover, she could clearly see her own reflection and felt she truly belonged there.

However, when she is forced into fleeing to the Chantry, it marks her first departure a passive one. At that time, she dared not face Marjolaine; with the loss of her identity as a lover, a loyal follower, her reflection in the other Marjolaine's eyes had also become blurred.

But the second time, she leaves the Chantry on her own terms. If we interpret her "vision" as a manifestation of her subconscious, it was her deep, internal need to leave that place.

The most beautiful part of this is that she is never entirely certain that leaving was what she had to do. In her dialogues, she constantly gives conflicted responses about whether she should have left the Chantry (mentioning she wanted to leave in about 3 or 4 conversions, but admitting she misses it and didn't want to leave in 1 or 2 others). Even after confronting Marjolaine, her immediate reaction isn't anything else but, "I never should have left the Chantry."

To her, the Chantry is a harbor, a safe haven. Yet, staying in a safe place (or clinging to a comfort zone) isn't always the right choice. Ships are built to sail the open seas, not to remain anchored in the harbor.

Her profound vitality is embodied exactly in this: amidst all her nostalgia and longing for the Chantry, she still—whether subconsciously or actively—chose to walk away and embark on her journey.

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Toxic Yuri route: The Myth of “Consensual” Sacrifice.

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Even though the DLC contradicted the lore in Origins regarding Leliana’s escape to the Chantry, I still really love how it was described in the main game.

It's like being born in a country that isn't yours. The people don't look like your mother or speak her language, but amidst the cruelty, you think you've found a home. So when everything betrays you—when Marjolaine’s dagger cuts you open to reveal who you really are underneath—you feel the pain of a traitor.

Then she started running. She ran non-stop from Orlais to Ferelden. Only when she crossed that thin border line did she dare to stop and breathe. She looked down at her bleeding, worn-out feet staining the meadow. It was just an endless green field. At that moment, she didn't realise that the border line didn't actually exist. It was real in history, politics, and war, but in reality, it was just a patch of grass.

She was just lucky to be alive. She could hide in the Chantry and say she was Fereldan—she had the red hair for it. But the blood on the grass was red, and that color had nothing to do with being Orlesian or Fereldan.

It wasn't until years later—when she finally distinguished the difference between herself and Marjolaine, or when she finally gave up trying—that she realised the border line doesn’t exist . At that moment, she was just standing on a boundless field, with Orlais behind her and Ferelden in front of her.

[buriedknight]

as cold as snow sweet love of mine the warden is ours with @starrythroat

[hajima-7]

left hand of the divine

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