Side blog dedicated to my spamming things about writing, stories, and my characters. Sometimes art, but mostly writing. Check out the side bar for characters! Icon made ORANGEJUICY@twitter! Â
Itâs about time I brought this blog back from the dead. I need to get back into writing for myself and telling my own stories, sharpening my skills and my voice so itâs not so scattered and vague. I need to push myself harder and believe in my own skills and stories.Â
If you still follow this untouched writing blog, thank you, your support means a lot to me. Iâm going to try to tell my Dragon Age stories again, but I want to try to get back into Sulfer and a few other stories that I have in my head.Â
This is partially for me (or 100% for me because who asked for this? Me.) but because my story brain is a bit strained, Iâm just going to do a quick outline for my Mystic Mesenger OC, Nari. Who I posted a million and one pictures of on my Main blog //sweats//...Also when I said I mad her story too detailed...I truly made her story too detailed. And Iâm an eternal lover of Angst so itâs just...itâs so bad.Â
*Note: Nari pays careful attention to make sure no one sees the negative pieces of her personality. She keeps her control on pretty much all the time. So negative Nari is rarely if ever seen.Â
Background:Â
Both of her Parents are deceased. Her father was killed when she was 5. Her mother died without her knowing when she was 21.Â
She was part of a gang for 10 years (from 5 yo - 15 yo), taken after the gang accidentally killed her father.Â
She was part of the gang leaders âchild soldierâ group referred to as the âWolf Packâ (Iâm shit at names leave me alone.)Â
Nari was called âKenaiâ after the Kenai Peninsula Wolf; an ironically large wolf.Â
Nari was the Alpha of her crew and was close with: Dingo (her partner), Hokkaido (their Hacker), and Iberian (Their main hitman). Nariâs roll was both to plan out attacks and clear out the area with Dingo so that Iberian could extract whatever they needed and take out the leaders. Her full crew was 9 people.Â
Nari and Dingo were the only ones that ever saw their Boss in person. They all referred to him as Control and he was essentially a god. They served him without question and were conditioned and tortured into blind obedience.Â
They were extracted by a Sting that took out both the gang itself and Control. Three people in Nariâs crew was killed in the process and Nari, Dingo, Hokkaido, Iberian, and two others were taken into police custody.Â
Nari spent two years in a mental hospital for reconditioning and education  until she was released back to her mother. Nari was enrolled in school, but her education level was still around middle school and she forced herself to learn as much and as fast as she could so she wouldnât let her mother down. She got her diploma at 20 after teaching herself a lifetime of schooling.Â
Nari is currently attending SKY university like Yoosung, but has never met him before.Â
Nari moved into her own apartment where she lives with a crow she adopted (he uses her hair like a bed/nest) and works when sheâs not in school. She had been sending extra money from her paychecks back to her mother, but her extended family had been taken the money. After her mother passed away, they sent letters posing as her so that Nari would keep sending money. She didnât find out her mother was gone until she had a fight with a cousin and her cousin accused her of being a bad daughter for refusing to go to her motherâs funeral.Â
Extra:Â
The Wolf Pack was used almost exclusively for elimination so Nari is good at removing people from existence. There were two other animal crews. The Tigers (extraction, intelligence, etc) and the Bears (Threatening, intimidation)Â
Nari still trains herself physically. She might not want to hurt anyone anymore, but she doesnât want to be so weak that she can be taken again.Â
Nari is paranoid and as severe PTSD and anxiety. She has a therapist who was a former member of the same gang she was in. (he was a Tiger)Â
Nari doesnât mind people seeing the scars on the front of her body as long as they donât ask questions. She doesnât want anyone to see her back.Â
//wipes off sweat// sorry for the lack of posts! Work has made me annoyingly tired, but Iâm going to try to rough out some stuff during my shift today cause I donât have work tomorrow! But Iâll post a to do list here rn, just so I donât forget anything that I want to do:Â
Notes for How to Deal
Inquisitor as a Companion meme thingÂ
First chapter of How to DealÂ
Edit To Make a ThiefÂ
Iâll add more later. If thereâs something youâd like to see from me at this point, or something you want to know, feel free to ask! Iâm all down for character fact exchanges rn as Iâm attempting to get back into the swing of things.Â
Thereâs no romance in this yet, but Iâll leave the note on itÂ
Genre: Modern/post apocolytic Dragon Age AU
Pairings: Cullen X Lavellen (more later)
Chapter Word Count: 2985
Warnings: mild violence
Previous chapter: X
Start from the beginning: X
She woke with a burst of adrenaline. Heart pounding, her ears were deaf with the sound of rushing blood as she bolted upright. She didnât process where she was. She couldnât piece together the room or the blankets that covered her, only the shine of the silver handcuff that bound her to the metal bar of where she lay. A bed? Right. Thatâs what this was. A bed. She was laying down on a bed she was handcuffed to.
She didnât remember how she got here. She couldnât remember what happened the night before. She couldnât remember a damn thing and the black hole in her memory made her grind her teeth. Something wasnât right. Nothing was right.
The stench of antiseptic and rubber stuck to her nose, flashing the early memory of breaking her arm as a child in her mind. Â Her clothes, the dark grey hooded shirt and pants, were replaced with a hospital gown and a heavy blanket. At least that was on question answered. She was in a hospital and was cuffed to her bed. But where one question was answered, another took its place: Why was she here? Had she collapsed? This didnât make sense.
Looking over herself, she was glad she seemed almost entirely in one piece. She could wiggle her toes, move her fingers, and if it wasnât for the thick bandages covering her left arm, was would be sure there was no reason for her to be there. Staring down, she tugged at the top of the bandage, cringing as she did.
Her skin bore a blossom of a dark bruise beneath, angry and deep. She could see the splotching outline of a vein and whispered a soft thanks to the IV drip connected to her. She knew it was the only thing keeping the pain at a dull throb instead of complete agony.
Where had she started? A hard job. Break and take. Someone hired her to get an old vase from what she assumed was a Church or a museum. Her research was inconclusive, but it didnât seem to matter at the time. Why would it matter what the building was? What mattered was what was inside. She ignored it. Hasty. She never ignored anything, but she was careless this time.
But, she had her plan. Plans were important and herâs never failed. She never failed, thatâs why people hired her. Thatâs why people paid so much for her. She had to get in and get out. She got in, she had her plan, she had what she needed in her bag. Then what? Then she was curious and pushed further than she should have. She had her escape route, but-
She glanced down at the handcuff, but as she did, she finally realized she wasnât alone in the room. Wide-eyed in confusion, she studied the man with her. The bald head and pointed ears were too familiar and Naerwen let out a soft breath.
âWas I late to my shift, sir?â she said her voice hoarse and grating.
âPlease, that was three days ago,â he said. She could tell he was trying not to smile. Â Solas had worked at the library only a short time longer than she had. He started working a few months after she had,a fact that she used when trying to befriend him. That, and appealing to his love of telling stories of the old elves. Naerwen didnât need to pretend to be interested in his tales of wonder and shining cities hidden in forests. She wouldnât say it out loud, but she did consider him an odd sort of friend.
âAre you here to fire me then?â she asked, tugging her cuffed wrist and listening to the clatter of metal on metal. âYou could have called.â
âNo, I heard what happened on the news,â He said, his expression dropping. A shadow flickered across his eyes as his voice lowered. âI came to offer my assistance. And to- Talk.â He paused, his eyes dropping to Naerwenâs other hand.
Her eyes trailed to her arm and she bit her lip.
Solasâ words triggered every alarm in her head, the empty space in her memory growing far more troubling. So something had happened. Something bad and worse still, the pit in her stomach told her she was the center of it. She didnât want to ask, but now wasnât the time for her nerves to get the better of her. She needed to know. .
âWhat-â She said, rolling the words over her tongue before she spoke. âWhat did they say on the news.â
âThat you killed the divine,â He said. His bluntness was more off putting than the words themselves. â-and that you tore a hole in the sky. Humans are so quick to point fingers, like you could have anything to do with it.â Then he gestured to her bandaged arm. âBut your hand is all the evidence they needed and the fact that they found you outside of a rift. They say a demon sent you.â He smirked. âPerhaps you truly were a despair demon sent to torment me with how terribly you organized the young adult section.â Â
âPlease, sir, âShe said. âOne thing at a time. They think I did what? Tear a hole in the sky? Kill the Divine?â Her face twisted in confusion. âThat doesnât make sense. Not to mention thatâs fucking impossible.â She bit her tongue quickly. Even in this situation she had hoped to keep up her eloquent act. But, she could feel it slipping the more she thought.
âYouâd have more guards if they werenât all fighting demons,â he said, his tone returning to its odd wistful firmness. âYou occupy a dangerous space now, my friend.â
This was all too much. Her head spun, her stomach turning and twisting in knots as she tried to make sense of it. Solas wasnât the type to joke. Taunt, perhaps. But he wouldnât mince words. He wouldnât lie to her in a situation like this. Besides, her wrist was handcuffed to the bed. If he was right though, the situation was far worse than she could manage. Her breath caught in her throat, her vision narrowing as she fought desperately to calm herself.
âThey-â She said. âThink I killed the Divine?â clutched her chest with her bandaged hand, attempting to wish away the tremors rushing down her spine.
She wanted to punch the pillow. To scream every curse she knew at every god she could remember the name of. This couldnât be happening. This wasnât happening. It felt like the plot of a bad movie, one that she had no choice but to be the star of.
âWell, you-â Solas said, but the door opening cut him short.
âYou were to tell us when she woke,â a woman strode into the room, her dark, short cut hair shined in the hospital lights. Her hard eyes tore through Naerwen, the air around her heavy with the weight of her presence. Noble, somehow, but terrifying. She felt like a cop that took her job too seriously. The kind that would arrest someone for breathing the wrong way.
Her clothes were clean and pressed, a button up shirt and formal pants. The kind of thing that usually went with a coat of some sort and didnât usually go with a pair of heavy combat boots. Glancing down, the boots were the only part of the outfit showing signs of real use. A fine, grey powder covered them, dusting the floor as she walked.Naerwen slide back on the bed, her wrist tugging against the cuff as her eyes searched for a way out. Â
âAhh Iâm sorry, Cassandra,â Solas said. Despite Naerwenâs immediate recoil , Solas seemed entirely unfazed. âIt must have slipped my mind.â
Cassandra scoffed, disgust wrinkling her face.
âThis is why I didnât want to work with an unregistered mage,â Cassandra said. âLeave, our people need help.â
Solas stood with a nod, flashing a quick smile at Naerwen before he turned.
âI have a theory,â He said as he walked past her towards the door. âTry not to kill her before I can test it.â with that, Naerwenâs only lifeline was gone.
Cassandra  didnât wait to fill the silence. Instead, she strode over to the bed, heavy shoes thunking on the floor until she leaned over the bed.
âWhat happened?â She demanded. âWhy did you kill the Divine?â
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â Naerwen said. Her barefeet pressed into the bed, her toes curling against the lumpy mattress, her hand clutching tighter to her chest. She couldnât remember what happened, but there was no way she killed the Divine. Why would she even want to kill the Divine? Itâs not like she ever cared about human politics. Killing off the humanâs âmost holyâ and starting a war on elves would be the last thing a thief needed.
She wanted less attention, not more of it.
âOur soldier saw you,â Cassandra said, grabbing Naerwenâs hospital gown and yanking her close.
With a yelp, Naerwen gripped onto Cassandraâs hand, staring up at the woman. She hoped the terror wouldnât show on her face, but there was too much happening. She wasnât sure she could keep control of her face while she was trying to make sense of this situation. She tried to keep herself from looking at her, hoping that any distraction would keep her steady. Her vision grew darker, her heart threatening to leap from her chest.
But, up close, Cassandraâs clothes werenât as neat and tidy as Naerwen thought. In fact, the buttons were scuffed here and there. The white of the shirt was spattered with grey splotches that matched with a few dotting Cassandraâs pants. The shirt wasnât even entirely tucked into the pants. Â
âThey say you walked out of a hole in the air,â Cassandra said. Naerwen could hear the anger in her tone, but there was an odd control to it. âThe same kind  that demons are falling out of now. Now, explain yourself. What demon gave you power? What monster stood behind you in the fade?â
âYouâre insane,â Naerwen said, trying to pull herself away. âDo you hear yourself?â She fought for control.She struggled with ever word, but at least she was saying something.,Words would buy her more time to figure out what the hell was going on. She fought to suppress the urge to scream and pull her hair, feeling the tremors run through her body as she stared at Cassandraâs nose.âDemons? Rifts? Who would buy that? Is this a prank? Where are the cameras?â
There was a moment of pause, the air thicker as Cassandraâs brows knit together for a moment., âYou really donât know?â She said. An odd strain came into her voice, a strange pain flickering over her face. Then, she dropped Naerwen back on the bed. âRun, and Iâll shoot,â Cassandra growled, reaching to the cuff and unlocking it from the bed.
âLike thereâs anywhere for me to go,â Naerwen said. That was all she needed. A tiny bit of control to get the smirk back on her face and restore some of her sanity. The problem was, there was truth in her statement. She didnât know how high up she was or if these windows even opened, so launching herself out one was probably a bad idea. There was only one door that Naerwen could see so escape meant sheâd have to run by this woman. Naerwen had a feeling this Cassandra was just waiting for an excuse to kill her.
Her only choice was to be good  and obey. Lost in thought, she missed a stack of clothes tossed to her, barely catching her shirt as the rest fell to the floor.
âGet dressed,â Cassandra demanded, turning around and waiting with her hands folded in front of her.
Naerwen stared at her back for a moment, wondering how hard it would be to choke her with the chain on the cuff. Deciding she should probably go back to her âgood girlâ plan, she sighed and tugged on her clothes. It felt strange to wear her stealth outfit so publicly, but there wasnât much choice.
âAre we going on a field trip, maâam?â Naerwen laughed. Cassandra turned on her heels, grabbing the cuff and clicking it behind Naerwenâs back, holding her wrists together and pushing her towards the door. âA bit rough, arenât we?â
âIt will...be easier to show you,,â Cassandra said, the edge quickly vanishing from her voice. It wasnât soft, not by any means, but it no longer burned into Naerwen. Then, without another word, Cassandra gave her a push towards the door..
Naerwen laughed, but took a stumbling step forward. If she was lucky, she was heading towards answers. In fact, she prayed she was heading towards answers. Â At this point she didnât care what answer it was, she just needed something. Something to hold onto that would make this all make sense.She didnât like this many questions all at once. There was too much space for errors, too much space for her to fail and find herself locked up or dead.The fear still tugged at her, the shaking refusing to leave as she stepped out of the room.
The hallway of this hospital, though, called her attention more than her thoughts. First, it was far too quiet. It was like a heavy hush pulled every breath and sound from the hall and drowned it entirely. Naerwen had only been in a hospital a few times, but she remembered how much noise there was each time, but now the silence prickled the hairs on the back of her neck.
Next, there was the sharp lack of any other living soul. Solas had said she would have more guards if they werenât all out fighting, but she didnât expect to not have any. The hallway was barren, the only other soul stood on the far end next to the elevators. Something wasnât right here and Naerwen didnât fully understand why.
As they approached the elevators, the lights flickered above them and Naerwen jumped. She felt like she was in a horror movie, her nerves entirely on end. The figure, a red haired woman in dark sunglasses and a sharp cut pant skirt folded her arms, her gaze never leaving the elevator.
âWe havenât much time,â she said as Cassandra turned Naerwen to face the elevator and stand in front of them. âWhat does she know?â
âNothing,,â Cassandra said. The elevator dinged, the doors rattling opened as Cassandra shoved Naerwen inside. âIf she does, sheâs not telling.â
A sudden, agonizing pain ripped through Naerwenâs hand. Sparking like fire, tearing from her palm and numbing her fingertips as her knees buckled. A hand gripped her elbow, yanking her back up and holding her on her feet as Naerwen gasped and whispered, trying not to scream until the pain subsided and left her shaking. Looking up, Cassandra stared down at her and Naerwen noticed a hint of softness lurking in the corner of her strong eyes.
âIt will kill you,â Cassandra said, glancing at Naerwenâs bandaged arm. âWhen the breech opens further, it tears at you. I pray you make use of the time you have left.â
Naerwenâs started to speak when the elevator doors slide open and she was pushed back out. No answers, only more questions as the darkened first floor of the hospital stood covered with soldiers and police officers covered head to toe in a fine grey powder. Gas masks hung from each of them, their heads turning to stare at her as she walked past. She could feel their gazes on her as Cassandra pushed her towards the door until there was no where else for her to go. The world outside was dark black, blotted out entirely. Naerwen could hardly breath.
Turning her head, she forced a smile.
âIâm assuming Iâm going out there,â she said. Cassandra responded by tugging a gas mask over Naerwenâs head.
âLooks like Iâm with the latest fashion now, huh?â Naerwen tried to laugh, but it came out as a choke instead. Without another word, she tried to count to force the shaking out of her body. She felt Cassandraâs hand press something into her ear. Trying to focus on it, she recognized the small cold pressing against the inside of her ear. A transceiver, of sorts. Turned on, she could just barely hear the faint hum that it was working.
before she was turned once more. Facing the door again, she was about to make another joke when another push pressed her into the door. Stumbling, her weight fell against it, opening the door and sending her staggering out.
She was about to complain. About to make another joke when her green eyes widened. The world around her was covered in a faint dust of grey, illuminated in a single, flickering street light. The dust flickered green in some unknown source, but her eyes were lured to the city she once loved. Instead of buildings, the city was reduced to a skeleton, scattered with shapes of cars and the fallen all around her. Dust fell from the sky, kicked up by rough gusts of wind that tugged at Naerwenâs clothes and threatened to turn her into another shape in the street.
Then, her eyes finally trailed up. The clouds swirled above her like an untamed storm, an omen she had only heard of in story books. At the center, a ripple of unnatural green yanked rocks from beneath it, holding them hovering in the air beneath. Naerwenâs lips parted, horror yanking her knees from beneath her. She fell, kneeling in a cloud of dust as she gazed up. Her ear crackled, the sudden sound of Cassandraâs voice filled her head.
âThis is the Breach,â Cassandra said. âAnd youâre going to close it.â
I love organization, so Iâm gonna start actually sorting these stories.Â
Genre: Modern/post apocolytic Dragon Age AU
Pairings: Cullen X Lavellen (more later)
Current Length: .5/?? (Word count: 4401)
Warnings: Violence, blood, sexual themes
Current Chapter:.5
Previous chapter:Â 0
Start from the beginning:Â X
*Note: Chapters ending in â.5âł arenât entirely necessary to the story and can be skipped over if youâd like. Most of them will just be me having fun, clarifying certain character relationships, etc.Â
30 Day Dragon Age OC Challenge Day 9: Social Status
XÂ Â What is your OCâs social status? What sort of education did they receive? How do they interact with people from a higher social class? From a lower class?
Among her clan, Naerwen was a generic hunter. There wasnât anything overly special about her. Her education was the typical Dalish education, and she was all in all, average. In society outside of the Dalish, Naerwen is a âhigh classâ thief, but that doesnât truly improve her social standing.Â
With higher class people, Naerwen can only see them as backstabbing potential clients- or victims. Sheâs not a big fan of the upper class and will take any chance she can to taunt them. Except if she thinks she can get a job out of them. If she does, sheâll do everything she can to butter them up and is more than willing to spin her words.Â
With the lower class, sheâs one of them so she just interacts with them as normal. But, she knows that every lower class person is potential competition, so sheâs not above taking one or two out when she can. She gets along best with middle class people who arenât in the same field as her.Â
Bubbles slid up her cheeks, tracing the outline of Naerwenâs blank expression. Her skin stuck to the porcelain tub, green eyes opened and staring at the rippling bathroom light through the water. The cold water swallowed all thoughts, giving way to a moment of blissful silence. Sensory deprivation. Freedom. The freezing water numbed her fingertips. She felt stiff and slow, but alive. So horribly alive as time slowed in the deep, ringing silence.
She indulged in the sensation until her lungs burned. Sitting up quickly she broke the her bathtubâs surface. Water cascaded around the small room as she gasped for air. Teeth chattering, she wrapped her arms tight around herself and reached to drain the tub. Cold baths were never pleasant, but she needed something to wake her up. Coffee wouldnât do much on its own.
Standing up as the water circled down the drain, she flexed her stiff fingers and groaned. Turning on the shower, she closed her eyes, feeling the warm water slam into her numb skin. Waking up and looking like sheâd slept the night before was far more important. She didnât work today and had no real plans until the night, but sheâd need to venture outside at least once. Keeping up appearances was important and dark circles always caught her landlordâs.
âThat manâs too nosy,â She said to herself, feeling the words roll around her tongue before they fell. Her voice always sounded so foreign the first time she spoke each day. âHeâll get himself into trouble one day.. Not everyone read his books.âÂ
Warmth crept back into her blood, her skin turning red as she rolled her shoulders. Stretching every inch of her body, she folded to touch the ground and reach towards the ceiling. Scrubbing herself clean, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped quickly in a towel. With a yawn, she glanced at her reflection. Her green eyes gazed back, free from any sign of her sleepless night. Her scarlet hair clung to her face and shoulder, the shaved right side the only clear space. Giving herself a nod, she practiced a playful smirk before stepping into her apartment.
Naerwen didnât live in luxury. She wouldnât allow herself to live in luxury. Her private work gave her plenty of money to afford everything she could ever dream of, but the thought of getting caught kept her back. What was the point of having nice things when she was sitting in a prison cell? Instead, she kept a modest apartment in a quiet neighborhood.
The single floor flat was plenty of space for her. She had a bedroom and a living room that opened into a kitchen. She had enough space for a couch and a dining table while still having plenty of room to move around. Of course, her spars decor did help with that.
Her decorations were simple. She had no photos to hang, only a few abstract dream paintings from a local artist. Her home was a collection of scattered oddities that reflected her, but nothing that hinted remotely at her night job. A small Orlesian vase, a mask hanging from it, sat next to a handmade doll she bought in Antiva. A few scattered coins, a few postcards never sent, nothing more.
Her bedroom was little better. The sheets were perfectly made and matching, a newpaper print covering them. Beside it, a simple dresser and mirror stood with a dish of earrings seated on a nightstand next to her bed. Clothes were tossed here and there, not quite in the hamper. Sheâd clean it up later, but for now a ball of mismatched fur had found himself a place on one of her sweaters. Leaning over it, she laughed.
âComfy, FalonâDin?â She said, reaching down and tapping her fingers against the fur. A small head unrolled, a single perked ear twitched as the grey and brown beast rolled his head up to face her. Licking his lips, the cat rolled his head back against the sweater before he closed his eyes once more. âIâll take that as a yes.â she muttered. Oh well. She didnât need that sweater today anyway. Tugging open her dresser, she dressed in a loose fitted shirt and a pair of jeans, yawning again before she rubbed the towel against her hair.
Stepping into her cozy living room, she glanced over the table. It wasnât a big table, but it suited her needs. On occasion, sheâd actually use it for meals, but now it was covered with papers and notes detailing everything she needed to do. There were two jobs for her. One for that night , and the other for the night right after. She didnât like agreeing to too many jobs at once, but this was a special case.
The first was a âmuralâ commissioned by an old friend. It didnât pay well, but working for the Red Jennyâs was always more for her own satisfaction. Glancing at a print out on the table, decorated with a few pictures from her client and a few of her own, she had settled on a proper font. Nothing screamed âpublic scandalâ like spray painting a case number on the side of a multi-national bank.
The second job wasnât quite as simple. No job that paid well was, but it wouldnât be anything she couldnât handle. She didnât know the client, but everything about them checked out. Her âfriendsâ vouched for them, saying they never saw their face, but they always played well. So far, her client had hired the proper people (at her request) and had listened to her every demand and truly, that was enough for Naerwen.. t. They wanted a painting from a private home, a request she was more than willing to indulge when she saw the size of the house she was stealing from.
If she was clever enough, she could probably get them to pay a couple thousand extra for her trouble.
She had her plan. She had her route. Everything was in place. All she needed to do now is wait.
Collecting her papers, she stacked them and slid them into a leather bag resting on the side of the table. Closing it tight, she trotted back to her bedroom and slipped it into a storage box under her bed. Surrounded by old bags and clothes, the bag didnât look at all out of place. She was sure no one would come into her apartment, but the last thing she needed was to take a risk and get caught.
Strolling into the kitchen, she plucked an apple from the countertop and searched for better food. Naerwen wasnât a cook, not in the least bit. She could barely touch the oven without burning something so most of her meals were take out leftovers. Her apartment was well stocked with the pieces of a good meal, but she never put them together.
Instead, she grabbed a box of cereal and milk before balancing a bowl on top of them and setting it down on the table. Then, glancing over her shoulder she stared at her fancy coffee machine. She loved the coffee it made, yes, but had bought the machine on a friendâs recommendation. She liked ones with no buttons herself, the kind that all she had to do is add water and coffee and then it was done, but this one had settings. It had an alarm and automatic brewing, none of which she actually set up. Of course she could break into the most high tech security systems without batting an eye, but coffee machines? That was a whole different story.
As she stood staring, FalonâDin mewed behind her.
âDone covering everything I own in fur?â she asked, leaning down to lift the cat into her arms. He purred, paws kneading her shoulder as Naerwen turned her attention back to the coffee machine. Petting the catâs head she smiled at the soft rumble of his purr before squinting and finally picking the magic combination to make her cup.
Slow morning always got to her. People called it the calm before the storm, but Naerwen would never enjoy calm. She wanted to move. She wanted to speed up time just to get to the good part. Only a few more hours. Just a few more hours. She repeated it over and over in her head until Falonâdin tapped his forehead against her head, rubbing his pointed ear against hers.
âI know, I know,â she muttered, scratching his head once more. She just had to survive the boredom.
OKAY couple things to catch up on...Iâll be actually posting my DA modern thing in like half a second and i want to say that itâs something Iâm goofing around with, itâs not overly serious. But I have another part Iâm cleaning up and Iâll try to post either tomorrow or the day after!Â
besides that, I have two more days to do on the 30 day DA challenge...falling behind again omg. so, Three things in the next couple minutes!Â
I think Iâm going to call the story though...maybe like... Black Ashes or Missing Savior...probably missing savior with what  Ithink is going to happen in this. OH WELL IâLL CALL MISSING SAVIOR A WORKING TITLE AND CHANGE IT IF I MAKE A BETTER ONEÂ
Also-- I love the welsh accents that the elves seemed to have in DA2?? (I think that was a thing, I canât remember exactly, but I think so)Â So Naerwen is going to have a Welsh accent. but sheâs really good at imitating voices, so the VO voice is the one she generally uses in most situations. But if you catch her off guard enough, then sheâll talk like that. Usually when sheâs absurdly happy or really REALLY confused.Â
She also does a great Antivan accent. For reasonsÂ
30 Day Dragon Age OC Challenge Day 8: Fighting 2-Morality
XÂ almost forgotÂ
What do they think about fighting/violence as a solution to problems? What was the first time they killed someone? What fight do they have nightmares about?
Naerwen is...odd about fighting. Originally, before the Inquisition, she would prefer to avoid fights if she could and liked to get in and out of situations without people noticing. She didnât mind fighting if she needed to, or the stray assassination requests, but she didnât make killing people a habit.Â
During/post Inquisition, Naerwen is much more willing to jump into a fight. She follows âkill or be killedâ mentality, and it shows in the way sheâll easily slit a throat without batting an eye. Violence is not the only solution to most things, she knows. But it is a very good solution when someoneâs coming at her with a sword. Itâs also far easier than sitting through meetings.Â
The first person she killed was when she was younger when her clan stopped near a city. According to her, it was an accident with one of the other cut purse youths. She didnât have territory and she was invading on theirs, there was a fight, Naerwen won. She had nightmares about that one for weeks until it settled in that this was just the way the world worked.Â
As far as a fight that Naerwen had and still has nightmares about, the Battle at Haven as well as Adamant never leave her. Of course, the fade is a big one too. I imagined that the fear spiders everyone saw were covered in eyes and muttered things because Naerwen canât handle things like that. So theyâd often pop into her head or dreams.Â
30 Day Dragon Age OC Challenge Day 7: Fighting 1- Methods
XÂ Does your OC fight? Is your OC good at fighting? Do they have a lot of combat experience? What is their fighting style? Favourite weapon/spell/move? Favorite way to kill?
Naerwen is speed over brawn. Sheâs lean muscled and quick, so she either aims to finish a fight fast, or drawn it out so her opponent gets tired and she can take them down that way. Usually though, Naerwen is unseen and moves silently around the battle field, taking people by surprise so she barely has to fight.Â
Naerwen has a lot of combat experience and a lot of experience with weapons. Sheâs good with a bow, but definitely favors her twin blades  and concealed weapons. Naerwen isnât afraid to fight dirty if it means getting out quickly and in one piece.Â
Favorite method though is definitely hiding in the shadows, slitting a throat, and then going back into the shadows before anyone has time to react. She could stab a back, but she likes to be dramatic as well as efficient.Â
30 Day Dragon Age OC Challenge Day 6:Â Pocketses, Precious
LOOK! I kept up this time! AHAHA.Â
XÂ Whatâs in your OCâs pockets/purse/backpack? What do they carry around day to day?
Most of Naerwenâs possessions consist of concealed weapons and hidden lockpick sets. I made a joke once about her having a âbag of holdingâ, but I think thereâs probably a pretty high chance that she has some sort of enchanted bag, Mary Poppins style, that she can stuff with things she steals. But on top of that, she doesnât really keep that much on her at all times.Â
In total, she has on average:Â
3 Exposed blades, 4 hiddenÂ
3 Lock pick setsÂ
Cullenâs coin
A small notebook for note taking and remembering things
Usually maps of some kind
thatâs all I can think of right now. I might update this later with more stuffÂ
X Describe how you think about your characterâs sexuality. How would they talk about their sexuality/sexual inclinations or lack thereof?
Naerwen is Panromantic and demisexual. Naerwen doesnât close herself off to any possibility of falling for anyone, mostly because she doesnât think about love and romance that much in general. Her focus is on the rest of the world, but love always seems to find her, more in people that she canât avoid and ones that make her heart skip a beat rather than people she drools over. Physically, she matches that theory. She also needs the ability to say no without pressure from her partner to feel comfortable doing things.Â
As far as how much Naerwen is willing to talk about? Like most things, Naerwen wonât truly talk about it. More like, mention things in passing. Naerwen has dated seriously twice in the past; Once to a rogue man she knew in Kirkwall, and then to a mage girl who she followed to Orlais. Both of them sheâll reference, but wonât state their relationship unless itâs directly asked or sheâs in the mood for stories.Â
Sheâs more willing to flat out say no to things without a direct explanation, or with a âIâm not interested, sorry,â than anything else.Â
30 Day Dragon Age OC Challenge- Day 4: Mind Matters
Apparently Iâm going to just do these in twosÂ
XÂ Briefly describe your OCâs mental state. Are they neurotypical or neuroatypical? Do they have any mental illnesses or a history with mental illness? How do they handle stress?
Naerwen has a collection of focus problems, anxieties, and problems with stress. As far as focus, she has trouble sitting still for long periods of time and needs to either be moving or doing something with her hands to keep herself focused on a conversation or situations. At the wartable, she needs something in her hands, or to be walking around it to keep herself focused on what theyâre saying.Â
Anxiety wise, she has more issues with social anxiety and people. She canât handle large crowds of people, particularly when a lot of attention is on her. Too many people talking to her at once, yelling, or too many people just looking at her can send her into an anxiety attack. This, sheâs had since she was a child, made worse by poor management of it. She refers to it as her âtremorsâ because sheâll start shaking really bad before she gets anything else and itâs usually her sign to try and leave the situation or find something to ground herself.Â
Naerwen tries to avoid stress instead of handling it. Sheâs the kind of person that will push her own feelings down as deep as she can push them so she doesnât have to deal with them. She doesnât want to bother people with her issues  and feels itâs better to keep things in than burden the people around her. Mostly, sheâs mistaken and gets herself into trouble.Â
Her only actual outlet that sheâs ever had is climbing and breaking into places. The more she climbs and steals, the more stressed out she is.Â
He never prayed. His mother taught him about the old world gods, the one that sat on velvet thrones and listened to prayers. The ones that laughed at the plights of mortal man. He knew it was just to teach him he was alone. It was only so that he would learn that he was the only one who could save those trapped spirits. He knew. Yet, he could never bring himself to pray.Â
Even now, as he sat in the pitch black silence of the strange home, trembling with his knees next to his chest, he couldnât bring himself to pray. He knew he should. Maybe it would provide a small shred of much needed comfort. He heard prayer always helped people, but he couldnât. He just couldnât.Â
Instead, he whispered into the darkness.Â
âHello, life,â he breathed. His own voice sounded like another in the darkness. âI just wanted to let you know. Iâm sorry.â He didnât know what he was apologizing for. Maybe for the countless failed spells and damned spirits. Maybe for not being able to forgive his parents while he loved them all the same. Maybe, maybe, maybe. As always, he had no answer. Only more questions that would slip from his lips.Â
âIf thereâs anyway,â He went on. âAnyway that maybe you could. Yâknow. Let me go back home. I donât really. Yâknow. Get why Iâm here. I donât know what youâre trying to teach me, life.â it wasnât a prayer. It was begging. He was begging. Unbecoming of his family name, but it didnât matter.Â
