28 | ♀ | INTP | Pan-ace
I go by Airstyle and here there be dragons. Expect to see an abundance of OCs, writing, screenshots, and other Dragon Age content. My main blog is airstyledraconos. Follow me there for the full "Airstyle screams into the void" experience.
Aesthetic Board - Kirana Tarasyldhe-Lavellan, Arcane Warrior of the Inquisition
“Aye, I’ve met Tarasyldhe. She made a right fuss when she stormed into Haven in search of her sister. Seggrit’s nose has never been the same since, but he was a right git, thinking he could mouth off to a warrior of Tarasyldhe’s caliber, elf or no. Still, I don’t think anyone expected the blast of lightning that accompanied that right hook. Turns out the Dalish have this thing called an arcane warrior--an ancient order of warrior mages who can not only kick your arse in armed combat, but set it aflame to really rub it in.
I reckon things would’ve gotten ugly if it weren’t for the Herald’s timely arrival. Tarasyldhe damn near collapsed with relief the moment she saw her. That’s when we all learned that the sister she had been demanding to be freed from Inquisition custody was none other than the Herald herself! Let me tell ye, the collective sigh of relief when we realized that she was an ally--none of us were looking forward to getting our arses handed back to us if we tried to fight her.
Still, she struck me as the good sort. Respectful, if a little standoff-ish, but she clearly doted on her sister. She treated our men well and gave our enemies hell. What’s a prickly personality in the face of that, y’know?”
The quiz can be found here–it’s an older ask meme by now, but I went ahead and applied this to my Inquisitor’s overprotective older sister, Kirana Tarasyldhe-Lavellan.
Authority
You are good at making decisions; you have a clear sense of what needs to be done and what others should be doing. Played out inside yourself, this tendency drives you to value willpower and self-control. You may be accused of bossiness. But acting on your desire to dissuade, restrain or guide is often appreciated by others – who might secretly like a clear direction, and some firmness.
Independence
You don’t set out to be different for its own sake; you are more easily guided by what interests and moves you. You are more concerned about what is right for you than about the pressure to fit in. In sex you are more aware than others of impulses which are not entirely conventional. You know the value of selective irresponsibility, of forgetting occasionally about being ‘good’.
Aggression
One part of your character is anger in all its forms: frustration, outrage – and when anger is suppressed – bitterness, grumpiness, and bodily aches. Fundamentally, frustration comes from hope: you get upset because you expect your life will be more than a valley of tears. One way to deny aggression is to direct it inwards, as self-criticism. But you’re at your best when you acknowledge anger, and act it out clearly and in a focussed way, with honour.
A few months ago, I had the opportunity to commission @xfreischutz to make a card for my Inquisitor, Astraia Lavellan. The final result was more than worth the wait! Frei paid so much attention to details and had creative interpretations of my ideas, managing to take my massive amount of information about my character and distill it down into a wonderful image.
They were a pleasure to work with and I am so glad that I commissioned them. ♥
Expendable: developing Astraia Lavellan (Inquisitor) x Cullen, ~1700 words, most under a cut, set in Haven pre-In Hushed Whispers/Champions of the Just
So, I may have written a thing. Just possibly. (The first thing I’ve posted outside of an OC Challenge in this fandom.)
Featuring: Emotional Constipation™, accidental flirting, tension-filled sparring matches, Varric wolf-whistling in the distance, and one shameless Mulan reference
“With all due respect, Herald, Cassandra’s report made it clear that you would have been badly injured if it weren’t for her intervention. This keeps happening and one day your glass cannon tactics are going to backfire and leave you seriously wounded, if not dead. Your mastery of combat magic is not in question here, few enemies survive you long enough to get within melee range, but bathing yourself in flames and screaming while charging the enemy isn’t exactly a sound strategy.”
“I’m a mage, Commander. Mages are squishy. And I’ll have you know that a bit of magical theatrics does wonders for crowd control. Still, it was worth the risk. Holding my ground allowed me to take out the trio of archers focused on Solas and Varric and I knew Cassandra had my back. True, the cost was to risk a direct hit from a maul, but I was the expendable one in that scenario—”
“You are not expendable!”
Astraia blinked. Recalculated. Deflect. Yes, deflect with humor, people like that.
“Equal parts passionate and calculating, haunted and playful, charismatic and remote. As irreverent as she is loyal to that ragtag band of criminal outcasts she calls family, always ready with a quip and a disarming smile, yet to take her for a fool would be your undoing--never forget that she is the Champion and that frost may be delicate at first glance, but ice? Ice can freeze the bloody Arishok. They say she crushed his skull in ice after she had been run through with his blade, all with a blood-soaked grin on her face. She thrives on the knife-edge of death, a fury who throws her all into protecting others, as if daring death to claim her. As if she would welcome its embrace. She is the last of her family and none of them had gentle deaths. Yet despite this, or perhaps because of just how much she has lost, she loves fiercely. Fiercely. If you ever think you can force her hand by threatening her loved ones, you will learn just how fierce her love can be.
Do not test her. It is not worth it.
Do not make the mistake of Kirkwall’s leaders and think that Hawke can be controlled. She is a staunch defender of justice, but on her own terms. Any attempt to manipulate her will fail. If she feels as if her chosen family is under threat, she will not hesitate to act in their favor.
Let her retreat to safety. An absent Hawke is far preferable to forcing her hand and making an enemy of her. She has already proven capable of toppling or saving an entire city when pressed.”
- excerpt from Lord Ormand’s address to Chantry leaders, cautioning against pursuing the Champion in the wake of the Chantry explosion |x|
I was tagged by @chaitea09 (again!) to go through this Self-Knowledge test for one of my OCs. I chose Astraia...as if that’s surprising. (Less surprising is the fact that I put this off for 6 weeks, way to go me). (Moderately surprising is the accuracy of the results. I really think they suit Astraia well!)
Anyway here are the results for Inquisitor Astraia Lavellan:
Rationality
You like clarity and intelligent simplicity and you get frustrated at messy thinking. This can make you seem unreasonably pushy to some, but it is actually a virtue: you are motivated by a horror at pointless effort and a longing for precision and insight into how things and people work. Your ability to synthesise and bring order is essential in producing thinking which is truly helpful.
Reverence
One part of you dreams of giving yourself up – perhaps just for a while – to a hero or mentor. In the right circumstances you can flourish by letting go of your ego. In your inner life, reverence plays out as a willing submission to your own conscience. In the outside world, you might get frustrated searching for something worth believing in – a country, a person, a company – but you will always be open to feeling respect, admiration and wonder.
Independence
You don’t set out to be different for its own sake; you are more easily guided by what interests and moves you. You are more concerned about what is right for you than about the pressure to fit in. In sex you are more aware than others of impulses which are not entirely conventional. You know the value of selective irresponsibility, of forgetting occasionally about being ‘good’.
Making graphics, aesthetics, etc. is fun, but you know what isn’t fun? Using stolen and uncredited pictures. I know, I know, properly crediting people is such a hassle… so what if I told you that there were great sites with completely free pictures that require no attribution whatsoever out there? Under the cut is a list I have compiled with #28 sites that contain photos with no copyright restrictions or watermarks, sorted by quality and each with a short description. Please like and/or reblog if you found this useful!
I was tagged by @chaitea09 to post my top screenshots of 2016 (and I promised I’d drag myself out of my extended hiatus to do it, so I win!)
Mainly scenery and Astraia, as per usual, but with a few of her sister Kirana and the elusive Fenhriel for variety (who exists purely to romance Dorian and look pretty in an alternate universe, but he’s good at both of those things, ha).
I don’t really have anyone to tag who hasn’t already done this, but if you (yes, YOU) are reading this and feel inspired to do your own, feel free to tag me in your post! I love me some screenarchery. :)
I’ll be honest, I’m mostly writing this because I’m trying to come up with codex entries for my ocs and this gives me a good way to think about what kinds there are. but hey, reblog, ask for a number and an OC? or add your own. whatever floats your boat. written with Dragon Age OCs in mind.
an overheard conversation about your OC
a letter written by your OC’s family member
a report written by your OC’s teacher or mentor
a letter from your OC to their love interest
letters between two of your OC’s companions about them
someone describing a time your OC helped them
someone describing a time your OC hurt them
your OC’s doctor/healer talking about their injuries
a future historian’s account of your OC’s actions
a description of your OC by someone who hates them
your OC’s description of their game’s events
your OC overheard while drunk
transcript of an interview with your OC
your OC talking about your favorite quest
a letter to your OC from a companion they haven’t seen in a while
a conversation between your OC and their best friend
a description of your OC’s family by a future historian
Expendable: developing Astraia Lavellan (Inquisitor) x Cullen, ~1700 words, most under a cut, set in Haven pre-In Hushed Whispers/Champions of the Just
So, I may have written a thing. Just possibly. (The first thing I’ve posted outside of an OC Challenge in this fandom.)
Featuring: Emotional Constipation(TM), accidental flirting, tension-filled sparring matches, Varric wolf-whistling in the distance, and one shameless Mulan reference
“With all due respect, Herald, Cassandra’s report made it clear that you would have been badly injured if it weren’t for her intervention. This keeps happening and one day your glass cannon tactics are going to backfire and leave you seriously wounded, if not dead. Your mastery of combat magic is not in question here, few enemies survive you long enough to get within melee range, but bathing yourself in flames and screaming while charging the enemy isn’t exactly a sound strategy.”
“I’m a mage, Commander. Mages are squishy. And I’ll have you know that a bit of magical theatrics does wonders for crowd control. Still, it was worth the risk. Holding my ground allowed me to take out the trio of archers focused on Solas and Varric and I knew Cassandra had my back. True, the cost was to risk a direct hit from a maul, but I was the expendable one in that scenario—”
“You are not expendable!”
Astraia blinked. Recalculated. Deflect. Yes, deflect with humor, people like that.
“I’m not about to fall on just any given sword, Commander. I’m quite picky about my self-sacrificial tendencies, I’ll have you know—I’ll only accept the finest of blades for that, something with a pretentious and legendary name ideally—but if I fall, I fall. The world still turns.”
Cullen sputtered, clearly struggling for words. Why does this bother him so much? He’s a commander of soldiers, he should know sacrifice better than anyone.
“No! No, the world does not get to go on, your Mark is indispensable, Herald!”
Silence. Astraia was reduced to blinking. Again. Fenedhis, he had a point.
“Not…not that that is the only thing that is indispensable about you, your life is worth more than that to…to people. And I know it’s not my place, but your combat technique is nothing short of suicidal against an opponent with magic resistance and…you cannot afford to assume that Cassandra will keep bailing you out, you need to take more care. Of yourself. Your body’s something worth protecting…Maker’s Breath, that came out wrong. I mean as a tool, not that it’s not a nice body…aesthetically…you’re lovely, of course, but that’s not what I meant…Maker, forget I said that. Please, please pretend I didn’t just say that.”
At this point, Cullen’s face had flushed to the point of absurdity. Astraia kept blinking. Dear Creators, has this man’s stammering actually managed to destroy my ability to pull a witty comeback out of my arse? Apparently. Shite.
“Look. Let’s just…start over.” Cullen managed to face her again, face still aflame. “I was a Templar; I know how to fight mages. You’re powerful, there’s no doubt. I daresay you’d give me a run for my money in a duel, even with my advantage against magic, but you’re…vulnerable. I can’t help but see the flaws in your defense when you cast and…Andraste preserve us, I can picture all too well an enemy with my training exploiting those flaws to strike you down. Just…allow me the opportunity to point out your weak points on the training ground. For your companions’ peace of mind, if nothing else.”
Cullen’s hand brushed through his hair nervously, his gaze skittering to the side. He…cared. Was she becoming friends with a former Templar now, of all things? It was a strange thing to contemplate, but this was more than professional interest, this was personal. She must have terrified Cassandra more than the Seeker would ever admit for her to have told Cullen about their latest close call. Maybe they had a point.
Astraia took a deep breath and found her voice. “You’re right.” Cullen’s gaze snapped to meet hers. “Oh, don’t look so shocked to hear me say it, of course you’re right. I can’t afford to be careless. Too much depends on me…It’s not something I’m used to.” She let the admission sink into the quiet, both acknowledging its gravity.
Then, almost as soon as it settled, the moment passed. With a practiced motion, Astraia flipped her staff from its resting position over her shoulder, leaning on it with a smirk. “Well? Might as well strike while the iron’s hot. Or do you need time to prepare for a sparring match, Commander?” She raised her eyebrows and gestured towards the training ground, a wicked glint in her eyes.
“N-now?” Cullen looked a little lost from the sudden shift in tone, but recovered quickly. “I have the time. Though I expect you’ll be a whole lot less confident once we’re through, Herald.”
“Promises, promises,” Astraia tossed back with a laugh.
With their challenges heavy in the air, they made their way to Haven’s sparring ground, already attracting a rapidly growing group of spectators. Few things could travel faster than camp gossip, apparently. The mere promise of a spectacle brought new life to the recruits. Whoops and hollers rose from the crowd, interspersed with enthusiastic bets on the outcome. Cullen studiously ignored the blatant gambling around them, but Astraia caught a glimpse of a repressed smirk on his otherwise serious expression. Not so uptight, after all. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Varric and Cassandra at the edge of the crowd. Varric gave her an exaggerated thumbs-up, while Cassandra wore an expression of extreme indifference—too perfect of an expression of indifference. Shite, what have I gotten myself into. Too late to falter, though.
A ring was drawn into the ground and the crowd pressed in around them. Astraia acted on autopilot, dropping an exaggerated curtsy to their audience and drawing out a round of cheers. She knew what part she was expected to play in all this. Who was she to deny the very persona she had so carefully crafted? No, she would play it faithfully. Levity to obscure the implications of a hand revealed in a sudden outburst, “You are not expendable!” (The façade of professional interest left shattered at their feet.) The veneer of jocularity to push aside the consequences of “your life is worth more than that to…to people.” (The quiet devastation of being seen, of being valued.) The curtain rises, her actor’s mask an armor in its own right.
A hush fell over the crowd and suddenly Cullen and Astraia were facing each other, weapons drawn. Gone was the awkward man who stumbled over his own words. She faced a hardened warrior, an expert in his craft, a man who had been explicitly trained in how to counter mages. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by all that hung between them.
The tension built until it inevitably snapped, Cullen making the first move and Astraia sending an answering fireball to harmlessly blast inches from his face in a commanding display of power and control. A quick look of mutual respect before they both burst into motion once more. Steel met ironbark, flames and ice erupted between them, lashing out against the barrier separating them from their audience. The match was grueling in its intensity and while neither had gained a clear advantage, Astraia knew that her time was running out. In a test of endurance, the Templar would always win.
Fire. Steel. Ironbark. Shield. Fire. The thud of impact. The crackle of lightning. Panting breaths.
Then, a controlled burst of wind. An opening. One targeted blast of flame and it would be over…but this was no enemy. This was an ally, a friend. She wouldn’t, couldn’t risk it. She hesitated. Held back.
Cullen’s blade pressed firmly against the back of her knee.
They froze, flushed and breathless with exertion.
“I concede the match, Commander.” Astraia’s declaration was quiet, but firm.
The crowd erupted, the unmistakable sound of coin exchanging hands combined with shouts of triumph and disappointment. Cassandra held out her hand to Varric, a small smile on her face. With a creative stream of curses, he dropped a hefty coin purse into her waiting palm.
“You had the match, Herald,” Cullen said softly, the two still locked in their ending position. “I played right into your hands. That was a winning shot.” His gaze was serious, the question in his words clear.
“No, that was a killing shot.” Astraia’s admission landed between them. She stepped back, breaking their frozen tableau. “I hesitated. You responded as you should, Commander. The match is yours.”
“If that were a real battle, I would be dead. That first fireball could have blinded me—”
“Commander, this is pointless, you held back too or I’d have had a sliced tendon—”
“Maker, just call me Cullen, I’m trying to give you a compliment!”
The two stop for a moment, embarrassed.
“Well…Cullen, you, you should drop the formality on both ends if that’s actually your goal.” Astraia raised her eyebrows in clear invitation.
“Oh…” Clearing his throat, he struggled to continue. “In that, in that case, Astraia…um, well…you fight good.”
A moment of stunned silence. Did he…did he actually just say that??? Judging by the look of utter mortification on his face, I think he actually did! I have been given a gift, a gift, on this fine day. A gift!
“I fight good?!” Astraia burst into laughter, tears coming to her eyes. A very Varric-sounding wolf whistle could be heard in the distance. It suddenly became immensely apparent that their bickering had been providing a different sort of entertainment for the assembled crowd. Shite. Never living this one down.
“That’s…not what I meant to say.” Cullen nervously chuckled. “Obviously. I just meant that…I wanted to apologize for…for underestimating you.”
“Thank you.” Astraia’s response was serious. “But you were right before. I have weaknesses that you were able to exploit and I need to account for them. You can walk me through it once these voyeurs bugger off.” She turned to the lingering crowd expectantly. “Go on then, show’s over! The Herald of Andraste kindly proclaims that it’s time to bugger off!”
“Hera—Astraia, you can’t actually proclaim things like that, Maker, Josephine’s going to kill you!” Cullen’s laughter did little to deter her.
“…Surprisingly good point, but that’s a risk I’ll have to take.” Astraia shot him a smile, feeling the weight of awkwardness lift from her shoulders for a moment. It would in all likelihood return in full force after the adrenaline crash, but for the moment, she let herself be buoyant. “Now, come on, let’s get some water and get to work. I need to know how to protect my flanks if Josephine sends Leliana after me.”
Tales of a mysterious underground shop run by an immortal—perhaps undead—proprietor who peddles impossible and implausible goods have circulated for decades among the templars. Now and then, a zealous or curious knight will go looking for the place to no avail. Stories place the Black Emporium in Kirkwall's Darktown, the sewers of Val Royeaux, in the back of an empty boathouse in Llomerryn, at the top of a tower in Marnas Pell, and hidden beneath the skirts of the giant statue of Andraste at the Merdaine.
No reputable source has ever found it and none ever will, because it does not exist.
You will, of course, hear the standard justifications: it appears only to the worthy, it appears only to the invited, it is hidden by blood magic, it exists only in the Fade. Rubbish. There is no magic that can hide an entire shop full of trinkets from the eyes of a Seeker of Truth. And I am not just saying that because I searched for six months and didn't find it; shut up, Tristan.
—From a letter by Seeker Benedict to Divine Justinia V.
I have done as you commanded. I believe our enemy has taken the bait. It is simple enough to imitate your anchor with a bit of magic and my reward is our enemy’s attention. They think they are clever to hide in the shadows, but their stealth is no match for Lace’s eyes. We’ll have them chasing their own tails before the day is out. I only wish that I could fight at your side, da’len. Be careful. The way you favor your arm frightens me. The pain in your eyes even more. I’ve seen that look on your face before. The one where you’ve decided to do something unforgivably brave. These people demand you give more of yourself and you offer yourself up to be consumed. You carve into your own flesh with the sacrificial knife over and over. I don’t think you know how to stop. I know self-preservation’s not in your vocabulary, but let your friends help you. You are not alone in this fight.
Your loss would break my heart, my sister.
Be safe. You owe me some of those absurdly fancy Orlesian cakes, after all.
Dareth shiral,
Kira
P.S. Verbally eviscerate a noble for me. At least turn one of their masks to cinders, I know you want to! Feel free to unleash me on them if you need to keep appearances. I’m begging you to let me rough up at least one poncy git before this Council is over. Lace just rolled her eyes at me (some girlfriend), but she’s secretly in favor of this plan, I assure you!
- A hastily written note to Inquisitor Lavellan left in the Crossroads by her sister, Kirana Tarasyldhe-Lavellan (9:44 Dragon)
“Being the Inquisitor has brought me to so many beautiful places. Granted, they’re all filled with people and things that want to kill me, but still. If you look past the dismembered corpses every few steps, and the pokey poisonous plants, aaand whatever is responsible for that particularly unpleasant smell…It’s all rather gorgeous, isn’t it?” - Astraia Lavellan
