Where you can find tidbits about my [extensive] collection of D&D characters. Meet Arian, Dood, Jasper, Lacewood, Gabriel, Rebekkah, Zorvaga, Kiara, Mads, Lance, Ren'ta, Tana, and Shia.
The first time Min saw her, they noticed straight away the bright gold of her hair. It was vibrant like a new flame, and made them think of the descriptions they'd read of the surface and the *sun*.
It had been enough, to decide their mind on buying not just the strange device and powder she had been found with, but the young dwarf woman as well.
(later, *years* later, they would find their way to the surface, with the woman at their side, and Min would laugh at the sight of the sun with that first memory bright in their mind)
The first time Cassie woke up to the sight of Stabby sitting by her bed, she forgot where she was. In that moment, she could smell salt air, feel electricity in a gentle brush against her cheek, and it was fine, it was maybe even good.
In that moment, she was six years old again, waking up to go terrorize the world with her best friend, to play Pirate Lords on the docks, to beg root beer off of tavern owners and pretend they were drinking tankards of grog.
For that moment, nothing had gone wrong, no alleyway she could hardly remember, no digging through charred metal and itching where she could feel the remnants of sparks.
The moment was gone too soon, happy and sad all blended together to bring her back here, to her room, where her best friend sat for the first time in over a decade. She didn't even notice she was crying until cool metal fingers brushed over her cheeks, wiping away the tears.
“I missed you, Stabby,” she whispered, so softly she could barely hear it herself. “I missed you a lot.” Slowly, she sat up, leaning forward to press a kiss against Stabby's cold, metal brow. Later, she would be hard again, impenetrable, with an easy, empty smile. For now, though, she was safe to be soft, her tiny, fierce guardian once again by her side.
Inspired by OC Kiss Week, though the only ocs in this are mine. :’D
I just wanted to show a rare moment of softness in Cassie’s life.
Arian Cousland knew her duty from a young age. She would marry well, and hopefully with affection. She would start a family.
Arian Cousland hadn’t wanted that duty. At eight years old, she had stolen her brother’s sword and shield, play-fighting with a visiting teyrn’s boy in the courtyard. At ten, her mother gifted her with her first real blade, made to fit in her hand. By thirteen, she was more comfortable in training armor than in a dress. By sixteen, she was resigned that as much as fighting felt like breathing, her father wouldn’t let her join the army, not his little girl.
She was flippant with the prospect of marriage as she grew older, hiding her nervous fear behind crass comments. What she wanted, what she craved, she knew she couldn’t have, though she never gave up hope. At twenty, she still hadn’t become so resigned as to not let her father know her feelings on the matter. She would have volunteered for the wardens, if her father had let her. She would have been marching by her brother’s side, if she had been given the choice.
When Duncan led her away to her fate, she thought her brother still alive. When she underwent the joining, she’d had hope that after the battle she would find him. The tragedy of it all was slowly dawning on her. The reality of it dancing in the shadows of nightmares and darkspawn.
When she started to pursue Alistair, her duty had been pushed to the back of her mind. After all, they would most likely die, wouldn’t they? There was no need to find a good match, no need to think beyond comfort and the way he made her heart swell.
The discovery that he was a royal bastard had been like a bucket of icy water dumped over her head. She was putting the pieces together, then, quicker than he was. A kingdom needed a leader, after all. And Ferelden was without a king. He had talked disdainfully of it then, but Arian had already begun to fear that his royal blood would be a weapon used to take down Loghain. She just didn’t know if he would be able to forgive her for using it.
When he confessed to her, with a small smile, heart laid bare before her, she had answered with a soft kiss and a firm promise. Duty, came the whisper in the back of her mind, and for the first time she didn’t bury it. It was ironic, really, that following her heart would lead to this, a calm acceptance of the duty she had only begrudgingly accepted before. Her plans were already forming, to set Alistair on the throne, to marry him and rule by his side- if they survived all this.
When they came to the mage tower, to the fade, and Arian saw the trap the demons had set for Alistair, she hadn’t expected the bitter pang of longing. He looked so happy, surrounded by little ones, a dutiful uncle. Duty, whispered her mind again, and giving him a child was added to the list of things she didn’t think were to be borne as a hardship anymore. It made the pain of it all the more poignant after the landsmeet, to discover that there was a chance both of them could be barren. She had giving a laugh then, answered with a joke, pulled him in for a kiss only just chaste enough for the company they were in.
She hadn’t cried where he could see her, not that first night when the pain of it was raw. It was Morrigan who had comforted her that night, with a cup of tea and silence as they both stayed awake late into the night.
Then came the journey to Redcliff, and another night of horrible truths revealed. Another night of hard choices and Arian wondering if he would ever look at her the same way. She had bargained for his life with his body, with his child, and the worst part of it was, she didn’t regret it. Even as he crawled into her bed smelling like sweat and incense and Morrigan, even as she buried her face to his chest, tears stinging her eyes, she knew she didn’t regret it. A thousand times she could be asked, and every time she would rather ensure that they both could live than go forth with the chance that one of them would end up dead.
Arian Cousland accepted Duty, in more ways than she understood when she accepted the role of Warden Commander and Queen. When she stepped into the role of Arl on behalf of the wardens, she took the responsibility seriously, doing all that was in her power to protect her people. When the demons from the fade balked at her sword’s touch, she wouldn’t think anything of it, despite the curious look she drew from Justice.
Once, Arian had flinched away from her duties. In the end, duty became as much a part of her as her love for her husband and the sword resting in her hand.
Arian hadn’t had time to dwell on things when she first met Anders. A mage full of snark, flippant even though he was scared, there was just something about him that made her pause when it came to the thought of punishment for the dead templars.
By the time Alistair came by and she had to make a decision, she had figured out what it was. Later, when she was safe in Denerim with him again, she’d tell Alistair why she had conscripted the mage instead of returning him to the circle. Simply put, Anders reminded her of Alistair. She hadn’t had the option to give him his freedom, so she did the next best thing. She tried to give him a family.
She was never sure if it was the right choice, tying him to the cause. There were so many similarities between Anders and her husband, but the more she got to know him, the more she could see the differences. There was a bitterness in Anders, forged by the templars and the circle. And being a Grey Warden wouldn’t be able to keep him safe in Ferelden, not when there were so few of them. Not when there was no blight to help people overlook the pasts of the people in the order.
Cassie is still running off the high of what happened. The Fun it was. The fact she enjoyed herself and it didn't end with anyone dead, for once. But she's going to realize what it all means, soon. That she Pleased the family. That she Pleased her mother. Finding a place she could hide in also might be the one thing her mother would be proud of her for. And she doesn't know how to reconcile that. Not to mention Mr fiance is bound to notice she has zero diplomatic skills. I mean, it might be part of her appeal to him but still.
On good days when Cassie hears the roll of thunder, her first thought is of a cold metal hand holding hers, back when she wore her hair loose, back when the spark of lightning was something to look at in awe with her best friend.
On bad days, her first thought is of a storm just visible on the horizon, the thunder wishing her a happy birthday, saying “I miss you” or “I love you”.
On good days, she digs out the broken handle of a dagger she’d smuggled north with her, fingers pressing hard against the jagged edge that is all that’s left to show where a blade once was. On good days, she can hold it in the pocket of her skirt and pretend like the thunder and lightning aren’t making her want to shudder.
On bad days, she can’t hide how tense she is. Every rumble of thunder makes her wings quiver with the memory of that last night and the goodbye she never got to say, the hand that wasn’t holding hers when the rumble of thunder came.
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