(Note: Many companions in Dragon Age: Origins can be killed, never interacted with or have their attempt for recruitment rejected by the Warden, thus if your Warden never encountered some companions, make sure to specify that in the tags!)
Zevran
1. How did your Warden react to Zevran’s failed attempt on their life? Were they amused? Angry?
2. Did your Warden match Zevran’s lighthearted attitude or were they more serious? What sort of relationship did they have?
3. What did your Warden know of the Crows before meeting Zevran? What did they think of the Crows afterward?
4. Did Zevran betray your Warden? How did they feel in the aftermath of Zevran’s decision?
5. How well did your Warden keep in contact with Zevran after the Blight? Did they ever see him again?
Alistair
1. What sort of attachment did your Warden form with Alistair, if any at all? Were they close due to their shared experiences as Grey Wardens?
2. Did Alistair’s parentage surprise your Warden? How did your Warden’s feelings on the nobility affect their relationship with Alistair?
3. Was Alistair reunited with his sister, Goldanna? What did your Warden think of her? Did they relate to Alistair with their own familial struggles?
4. How did your Warden respond to Alistair’s dislike of Loghain? Did they share Alistair’s sentiments or disagree?
5. What became of Alistair after the Landsmeet? How did your Warden feel about their decision of Alistair’s future?
Wynne
1. What did your Warden think of Wynne’s views on the Circle? Did they have different experiences regarding the Circle?
2. How did your Warden respond to Wynne’s comments if your Warden romanced someone? Did they tell her it was love or that the relationship was purely physical?
3. How did your Warden feel about the Spirit of Faith within Wynne? Did they see it as possession?
4. Did your Warden go with Wynne to meet Aneirin, her one-time apprentice? What did they think of the encounter?
5. What did Wynne choose to do after the Blight was ended? Did your Warden stay in touch with her?
Leliana
1. What was your Warden’s position on the Chantry? Were they wary of Leliana due to their religious beliefs or lack thereof?
2. Was your Warden curious about bards? If they had the opportunity, would they choose to become one?
3. If your Warden received Leliana’s personal quest, what did they choose to do with Marjolaine and why?
4. Did your Warden believe that Leliana was telling the truth about her vision from the Maker or were they skeptical?
5. How well did your Warden get along with Leliana? What was their relationship like?
Sten
1. Had your Warden ever met a Qunari before Sten? What did they expect?
2. What did your Warden think of Sten’s beliefs that people’s roles are determined at birth? Did they agree?
3. Did your Warden retrieve Sten’s sword? Did your Warden’s choice to give it to him or withhold it affect their relationship with Sten at all?
4. How did your Warden speak to Sten? Did they fight with him often or were they more humorous in their responses?
5. Was your Warden amused by Sten’s love of cookies?
Oghren
1. What did your Warden think of Orzammer? Were they impressed or did they become disillusioned with the city, like Oghren did?
2. What were your Warden’s feelings on berserkers? Were they frightened of them? Were they a berserker themselves?
3. What was the fate of Branka? If she was killed, was your Warden regretful? How did they act around Oghren afterwards?
4. What was the relationship between your Warden and Oghren? Were they friendly or merely reluctant companions?
5. Did your Warden stay on good terms with Oghren after the Blight? If Oghren got back together with Felsi, did your Warden ever go to meet Oghren’s child, who was named after the Warden?
Morrigan
1. What was your Warden’s first impression of Morrigan? Did they trust her or were they cautious around her?
2. Did your Warden agree to help Morrigan kill Flemeth? Why or why not?
3. How close was your Warden to Morrigan? Did your Warden respect her abilities as a witch of the wilds?
4. Did your Warden attempt to find Morrigan after the Blight? Did they ever succeed in meeting her again?
5. Was Morrigan’s ritual completed? What persuaded your Warden to go through with it or what caused them to refuse it?
Loghain
1. Did your Warden respect Loghain’s experience as a warrior, if not as a ruler?
2. How did your Warden react to Loghain’s fierce love for his daughter? Did they share a strong sense of loyalty to their own family?
3. What did your Warden think of Loghain’s suspicion and dislike of Orlesians? Did they consider it to be ill-founded or accurate?
4. What was your Warden’s opinion on Loghain’s decision to abandon King Cailan and the Grey Wardens at Ostagar? What did they think of Loghain afterwards?
5. Did Loghain survive the Landsmeet? If he did, why did your Warden choose to let him live?
Shale (N/A if The Stone Prisoner DLC was not played)
1. Was your Warden interested in golems upon meeting Shale? Did they think of golems as weapons or sentient beings?
2. Did the realization that Shale was once a living dwarf surprise your Warden? How did that change their views on golems?
3. Did your Warden aid Branka or Caridin? Did their choice affect their relationship with Shale?
4. How did your Warden’s relationship with Shale change during the Blight? Was their relationship maintained after the Blight?
5. What did your Warden make of Shale’s “bird issues”?
Dog
1. Who’s a good boy?!
Other Dragon Age Asks: Hawke + Companions, Inquisitor + Companions
local writer once again discovers that staying up until 2am when you have work early in the morning slurringlingly re-reading own writing and editing no more than a couple of typos WILL NOT magically kick-start the creative process and will instead lead to a regret-filled morning
Thank you to the incredible @jawsandbones for tagging me in this challenge!
Rules: tag 5 or more other writers. If you want, feel free to use these questions anyway and consider yourself tagged!
Short stories, novels, or poems?
Novels and short stories, for sure. Every time I try to write in short story format it seems to want to turn into a novel, though XD. It takes a lot of structure for a story to read as effortlessly self-contained and I admire authors who can pull this off, because I STRUGGLE. I never really delved into poetry and I should definitively read more of it, haha, but I love the craft of wordplay, the focus on sound and rhythm... I think all prose writers have something to learn from poetry.
What genre do you prefer reading?
I love a bit of everything, really. I love polar and horror for the twists, fantasy for the world-building, sci-fi for the Big Questions... but most of all I love seeing it all mixed up. I think what I look for in writing transcends the barriers of genre: what I want is tension, strong emotions, novelty, and good characters grounded into an interesting world. I can get that from across all the literary spectrum if i'm lucky enough to find the right pieces. I think I love reading fanfiction so much because a lot of it is written by people who more or less think this way, and when you're already grounded in an established universe, you can really put the characters forward, so all that I love comes forth in strength.
What genre do you prefer writing?
Well, I'd say the same, but lately the low fantasy of the dragon age lore has really been it for me. In the modern!au as well, what I end up focusing on is character drama anyway, but I like a touch of magic and speculation to spice up the surroundings of my characters.
Are you a planner or a write-as-I-go sort of person?
I do my best to plan but fundamentally I think I am an improviser. When I’m tackling something long I have basic plot points and overall arc structure and themes written out ahead of time, but I often find myself filling in the blanks as I go, and the blanks are BIG. I want to improve on that aspect, because sometimes I write myself into corners because of this process, or have issues with continuity, and that's just hell.
What music do you listen to while writing?
Omg Jaws, you and I have the same issue. I can’t focus at all if there’s words I can understand in a song! It goes even further than that though, as even strong melodic lines can take away from my weak focus. So what I really love listening to most of all when i write is just plain old white noise as such. It blocks out all outside noise, which helps a lot since i like to write in cafés, and it keeps me in a nice sound cocoon so I can concentrate.
Fave books/movies?
Woof, always a tough question. This sort of thing changes monthly for me lol. For books, lately A song of Ice and Fire has really been #it for me, but I love Stephen King as well, Thomas Harris, Neil Gaiman... His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman, Tolkien and french author Eric L’Homme are some of the first things that inspired me to want to write. Truth is I really don't read as much as I used to lately, I need to get my game back on.
As for movies, oh jeez. I watch SO MANY so that too sort of moves around. I have comfort movies like Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes series, The Avengers, Silence of the Lambs and The Lord of the Rings trilogy that I can watch over and over again and quote from memory, but recent highlights have been the Shape of Water, Gone Girl, Nightcrawler, Into the Inferno... The last movie I watched is The Incredibles 2 and I loved it.
Any current wips?
Oh boy. Next question? Just kidding XD I have so many, but my biggest most important wip is of course Vigilance, Victory, Sacrifice. I think about vvs all the time and am super frustrated at the current posting schedule. It’s really a tough one!! Apart from that I have so many one shots and open rps that I'm kind of loosing my mind, but it's all good haha, I'll get there eventually.
If someone made a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?
I dress casual but I like to sprinkle in a bit of edge, more original pieces, volume contrast... So something like a wider culotte-style pant, sneakers, and maybe a crop-top with a dumb print. My stile is very inconsistent actually, haha it would be a challenge to pin it down.
Create a character description for yourself.
Hm skip.
Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?
Not so much, no. I mean, we all take inspiration from our surrounding and everything, but it would feel very awkward for me to outright insert someone I know as a character in a piece omg. Writing is where I process reality by disassembling the pieces and putting them back together, not a place for me to act out stuff that concerns me directly. Not without at last 100 layers of separation lmao. I really admire people who are able to be this open and put so much of themselves into their writing, but that's not me at the moment.
Are you kill-happy with characters?
I am, there’s no denying it. I used to be even more kill-happy than i am now, in a pointless kind of “edgy” way, but I'm really trying to outgrow that. But boy, do I still love me some good major character death. I think the reason behind it is that grief is a very important theme for me that sort of sneaks its way into all of my work, and one way or another I always end up incorporating it into my writing. What interests me most is not really killing a character, but exploring how others react to their death. I was always into the mythology that surrounds characters whose main purpose in the story is to be dead for other people to interpret lol. I'm thinking figures like Raegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark... I love world-building so yeah, that’s an angle I really love to explore.
Coffee or tea while writing?
Both lol, and I don't stop at that. My poor pc is always full of crumbs.
Slow or fast writer?
Slow, baby. I can churn out big chunks of text all at once in very productive writing sessions, but my editing process is excruciatingly slow, so that text is going to sit in a burner for a long-ass time and be rewritten over and over before it sees the light of day. I write so much more than what I show, for those reasons.
Where/who/what do you find inspiration from?
I’d say the world as a whole inspires me lol. When I'm out there I always find myself observing and dissecting, a movement, a person walking down the street, my own perceptions and feelings. Throughout the day I’m always thinking about my stories. I also love brainstorming with my irl best friend and my boyfriend.
If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?
Don't know don't really care lol.
Most fave book cliche? Least fave book cliche?
I love leitmotivs. George R.R. Martin has rocked my whole world on how satisfying having those payoffs could be. “If I look back, I am lost”??? “Where do the whores go”??? Memorable, quotable, high-impact sentences that come slap you back in the face when you least expect them. #goals Anything that's about set up and payoff is huge to me, so a nicely planned twist is EVERYTHING.
Something I dislike is cop-outs, or characters who are not agents of their own story... I hate it when a character is put on a difficult spot and then the story bails them out without resolution. Take the conflict all the way!!
Fave scenes to write?
I love big dramatic scenes: confessions, fight scenes, breakdowns. I also love soft intimacy, and banter omg, I love writing banter so much. Trying to be funny and quippy is a big challenge, especially in english, but i love to try and take it on. I loooove environmental descriptions, setting the mood of a scene through nature, defining the background to make it feel like the characters are evolving in a world that’s real and perceptible by the reader. Oh, and smut babey ;D
Most productive time of day for writing?
“Day,” lol. It’s veeery late too, of course. A bummer, really, but that’s when the inhibitions are low and the really funky out of the box ideas come out. Some of my best most rigorous writing and editing has been done during the day at the coffee shop, though. It requires discipline from me but it can yield much better results than my late night ramblings lol. I just have to get in my zone, which is much easier to do in my own bed than in a public place lol.
Reasons for writing?
It just means so much to me, and there’s mostly two different fronts to it. The first is that the act of writing itself is just so goddamn exiting to me. When i write, I feel so much, and not just the emotions my characters are going though. On the long run, the satisfaction of crafting a piece out of nothing, to get it to be better and better, the thrill of finding just the right word... It’s just a fucking blast. And then of course, there’s the other side of the coin, which is being read. It’s an emotion i can’t describe when someone says they felt what I was trying to convey. It gets pretty intimate when you try to get into what the world feels like through various lenses, and to have people say back that yes, they get it, is a rush like not much else in life can give me. To be read is to be seen and that’s the one kind of spotlight I thrive in.
And there you have it! I'm tagging @joufancyhuh, @effelants, @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul and @renlyslittlerose
Rules: Find 3 given words in your WIPs and share some sentences where they appear, then tag some more people with different words. My words: light, lips, and final.
Light - From a Kanders fic I’m working on for my Modern AU
“You can,” Anders whispered, brushing his cheek along Karl’s. “If you don’t take me then I’ll follow you some other way.”
With an exasperated sigh Karl rested his head against Anders’ shoulder. “You can’t,” he almost growled but managed to keep his tone light.
Lips - From a Wanders fic I’m working on for an exchange
“How could I not stop to see you, Anders? You all but begged me in your letter.” Her lips tipped into a sly smile as she played with the end of her ponytail. “I thought this would also be the perfect time to set out on a secret mission.” When Anders opened his mouth to say something, she shot him a glare that had it snapping shut. “It’s for the Wardens,” she stopped to think before shrugging, “well, sort of.”
Final - Again from the Kanders fic (hope I can usually “finally” for this…)
Flames licked just below his skin, a reminder that he did have other tricks up his sleeve. No, using magic would be a last resort, and even then he would rather break into the Thekla’s house than cause damage or harm. With a mental tamp he focused on the pebble and Karl’s window. How many more did he have? His finger skimmed over three, four, and five. Five more attempts, then he would have to move on to plan B.
He was just about to toss the next one when the window finally slid open. A rush of joy and dread filled his lungs as Karl’s head poked out and called out to him. Anders gave the older boy a grin.
@joufancyhuh tagged me in this challenge. Thank you so much! :D
Rules: Find 3 given words in your WIPs and share some sentences where they appear, then tag some more people with different words. My words are nice, secret, and combination (so cute! <3)
Disclaimer: Some of the following pieces of writing are unfinished works and are susceptible to change between now and publication.
“If you tell me who you're working for, we can...”
A guard brutally interrupted him with a nasty kick to his exposed belly, making him cough out whatever air was left in his lungs. The man then grabbed him by his chains and pulled him up, before he had time to recover. He was a short, burly warrior, and got him off the ground with ease, despite the King's own impressive stature.
“Fine,” King Alistair wheezed out, once he was on his feet and had managed to somehow restore his breathing, “Let nobody say that I have not tried to be nice.”
Secret, [Untitled Zevran/Warden one-shot]
“Fereldan dancing was as much about the eyes as it was the limbs, Zevran had learned. It was only natural, really: how else could the young dog-lords and ladies exchange secret vows from in-between the constraints of their harsh, soldierly culture, if not by way of shy, stolen glances? Aedan was displaying the notion to its full extent, right then, albeit with not much of the customary subtlety. He was giving in to none of the traditional coynesses, it appeared: his gaze was locked firmly in Zevran's, and never once did it lower.”
Combination [Ongoing Dragon Age Modern!au RP session. Hey @cupofrenchtea :D]
'San just waited for him to go on. For a moment, Alistair saw himself not doing it. Getting out of there. Bailing out. In a rush of feeling Aedan's dead eyes were in front of him again, and the back of his hand stung, and it was a big mangled combination of past and present, in his mind, the letter on 'Dan's desk, the numbness of his expression, the betrayed twitch of his lips, the panicked bleeps of the monitor, and his words, his words, his words...
Well, this was fun! I'm tagging @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul and @inuy21! <3 <3 <3 Your words are light, lips, and final.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
@inuy21 prompted me to write for this pairing with @jchnmulany ‘s prompt “God, you look good.” I loved doing it, even if it didn’t turn out very nsfw in the end XD! Thank you for prompting me and participating in this fic exchange! :D
Title: Making Memories
Pairing: Fergus Cousland/Oriana Cousland
Rating: Teen and up
Words: 2443
Summary: Fergus and Oriana slip out of their own wedding for a few moments of long-awaited intimacy.
“I can't believe we're doing this.”
Beneath the surface disbelief of her tone, Oriana's whisper had rung with more than its fair share of mirth, but also with a tension that seemed to stem from something very different than just the need to be quiet. Something that had her voice ring low and tight in the silence of the cool evening air, and made her breath flutter between her slightly parted lips. Fergus would have answered something right away, but his own mouth was very busy with the soft skin right under her ear, so he just hummed non-committally instead, and didn't reply until he was done pressing a last few long, burning kisses all the way down her throat.
Perhaps that partly explained why Oriana's voice was catching like that, now that he thought about it.
“Doing what?” he finally managed back, almost absent-mindedly.
He had pulled back a little – as much as he could manage with the heat of her still calling so ruthlessly to him – but that didn't mean he was willing to fully let go of her just yet. The back of his fingers dragged a slow line along the tender curve of her shoulder-blade, and already he longed to replace that touch with his lips again.
“Sneaking out of our own wedding?” he helpfully supplied, and the words tore a childish grin from them both.
“Yes, that,” Oriana laughed – that delightful sound – and when she closed her eyes and kissed his temple, Fergus could feel the wide smile she pressed into the short hair above his ear.
That helped the pull prove too much for him, and he pressed himself in tighter again, fingers grazing over the silken ruffles of Oriana's dress, up her arms, around her shoulders. Carefully, he lifted the long, intricate earring of gold and rosewood beads from her neck, pushing it back as if it were a strand of hair – which it might as well have been, given its length – so that the beads dropped behind her shoulder, and he could reprise his ministrations more freely. Her skin was soft under his lips, and scented with a rich, heady oil made with ambers, spices, and crushed rose-hearts. He knew Oriana had had her friends bring the small glass pot of it over from Rialto months earlier, in preparation for that day. He also knew they had helped her coat herself whole with it earlier that morning, before the ceremony. Gently, in between many a girlish giggle and whispered blessing, their sisterly fingers had pressed the mixture into the curve of her neck, the bend of her arms, the arch of her back and many more, secret places, to make sure that from the very moment Oriana stepped into the grand Hall of Castle Cousland for the ceremony, and up until the last day of his life, Fergus would never be able to forget that scent.
He could already tell it was working.
“Weddings are boring, anyway,” Oriana muttered, words slurring once more as Fergus' teeth dragged along the line of her jaw.
He smiled again.
“Even this one?” he wondered, trying to sound as if he had taken a bit of umbrage - and most certainly failing.
Oriana cupped his cheek in her hand and lifted his head to face hers. Her expression was so soft, Fergus couldn't help but lean into her touch, fingers running up her hand to intertwine with hers.
“Maybe not this one,” she whispered, tracing the lines of his lips with the pad of her thumb in a slow, burning circle that made Fergus shiver down to the very core.
Her eyes were circled with dark, heavy khol from her homeland, blacker than any coal. It framed her brown gaze like dark velvet would a jewel, and it seemed to Fergus it made her eyes glimmer just as brightly, in the dim light of the cloudy, rainless twilight.
“Maybe this one is the exception,” Oriana said, and Fergus couldn't have agreed more.
They kissed again. Fergus chased after her mouth with much more ardour than what was becoming, but then again, not much about him and his newly-wed wife taking each other's hand and somehow managing to slip out of everyone's sight to entangle like teenagers against a wall of the deserted inner courtyard was becoming of them, was it?
But he didn't care. He could still taste salt on Oriana's tongue, the ritual salt exchanged alongside their vows, pressed reverently on each other's lips under the kindly eyes of their people and their loved ones, and the sweet sting of it in her warm mouth was all that mattered to him, right then.
The stone of the inner courtyard wall was cool under their touch. A pale summer rose from the bush clinging to the arch nearby extended her delicate, wet petals towards the darkening sky. A solitary bat circled over them, wings fluttering in the still air with a sound like a whisper muttered against the constant backdrop of the waves crashing on the cliff-side. The noises of the feast still reached them, faint and joyous, but in that moment it all felt so distant it could have been happening in a whole other country, as far as he was concerned.
“Maker, Ori,” Fergus couldn't help but murmur, flush against her burning mouth, “You look good.”
He toyed with the many little rosewood beads that lined the hem of her sleeve, taking in the sight of her, her dark eyes, her flushed cheeks, the few dainty strands of hair coming out of her elaborate up-do, the warm colours of her dress, in stark contrast with the cool colours of the Castle...
“You feel good,” he said again, hand reverently raising to cup her breast through the fabric, and the way her nails dragged against his scalp in answer tore a soft, unashamed moan from his lips.
She quickly welcomed it into her mouth in another hungry kiss. She nibbled and bit and sighed, body loosening fast against his. Her fingers pressed a firm caress up his shoulders into the nape of his neck, and there they anchored, brushing soft circles at the base of his hair, keeping him close. When her knees parted wider, welcoming the pressure of his hips between her legs, Fergus eagerly indulged in the friction, and Maker, they shouldn't, but it was so hard to stop...
Could they really be blamed? They had been holding back for the whole ceremony, after all. Maker, they had been holding back for much more than that, really: for all of the long days, weeks, months, years leading up to that very moment, right there... It was no wonder keeping themselves in check had proved too difficult a task. The way things were going, the wedding night was well on its way to come much sooner than planned, and Fergus wasn't sure he found it in him to give a damn.
The more than a few cups of various spirits already coursing through their bloodstreams surely weren't helping them to keep reined in, either, but the newly-wed couple can't very well refuse a toast when the glasses are raised in their honour, can they? Neither can they two, or three, or however many their guests found appropriate to raise that evening. Fergus had lost count, to be honest. The fog in his brain was surely responsible in great part for his ill-advised decision-making, but it would have been a laughably grand lie to pretend like he regretted it, in that moment. Especially when Oriana's fingers started undoing the fastenings of his outer tunic to slither between its parted folds, so much closer to his skin.
“So do you,” she murmured.
Her lips found his ear and he could hear how she was panting, then, tight warm breaths tingling him as she nibbled at his lobe. He felt her hands circle him to unashamedly grab his arse, and as she used that hold to keep him firmly nested against her, it was all he could do not to buck forward like a boy half his age.
“I'm so glad, Fergus,” she all but whined, “So glad you're finally mine.”
“I am,” he answered, “Wholly. Forever.”
His tone had matched hers, tight and breathless, and it was all he could do not to moan when she threw her head back to present her throat to his hungry lips again.
“I know,” she whispered, and at that the urge to lift her skirts became far too strong for him to fight back, and so his hands avidly glided down her thighs to grab a handful of soft fabric, head spinning already with the need to tug it up, to uncover her legs, her hips, to burrow his hands in her heat and make her his, finally, finally, as a man would his wife, and not just in the usual frugal embrace, drowning himself in the scent of her offered throat, forgetting all about their titles and their duties for a few burning moments of just-
“Ahem.”
It was just one, deliberate coughing sound, but it was more than enough for Fergus to instantly recognise who was behind it. Him and Oriana all but jumped apart, and although neither of them were ever very prone to embarrassment, this time there was no mistaking the burn of it as it flared all over their faces.
“Aedan,” Fergus croaked out, very eloquently, “Hm.”
Stepping even further back, he did his best to gather himself, running a hand through his hair while Oriana, cheeks flushed, flattened the creases of her dress.
“We were just...” he started, but Aedan cut his feeble attempt at an explanation short by blowing a miffed huff through his nose.
He was standing with his hands on his hips, looking them on with a deadpan expression on his young features. Perhaps it was the wine, but Fergus suddenly found there was something very funny about the scolding attitude his little brother - all dressed up for the occasion and with his sash elegantly pinned to his chest by a heavy silver brooch - was putting on right then. Oriana seemed to think so as well, because one short glance her way was enough to tell Fergus she was biting back a laugh.
“Fergus,” Aedan scoffed, “I'm thirteen. I know what you were “just.””
And that was just the last drop needed to upturn the cup. Fergus dipped his head down, unable to contain his laughter any longer.
“Is that so?” he wondered, unsuccessfully trying to conceal the crack in his voice by pretending to clear his throat.
Oriana wasn't even trying to hide anything, at that point.
“Would you listen to him,” she openly laughed, “This grown man is aware of it all!”
She walked away from the wall, composure already all but recovered, while Aedan rolled his eyes in that rather theatrical way of his, arms crossing in front of his chest.
“Enough so to know that Mother and Father would scarcely approve,” he said, obviously trying to look as if he were the mature one, there, standing so high above their childish nonsense, “They've been looking for you everywhere.”
“So they sent you?” Fergus asked, finishing to straighten the collar of his tunic back into a more proper, less dishevelled state.
The embarrassment had faded away quickly: it was hard to remain upset about anything, to be honest. Not on such a happy day, and especially not about his little brother taking it on him to act grown-up in light of Fergus' own juvenile behaviour, for once.
“Not really,” Aedan admitted with a small shrug, as Fergus walked up to him as well, “I rather sent myself.”
He relaxed a bit, facade cracking to let a small smile through as Oriana laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“I thought I'd spare you the embarrassment of being dragged back to the hall by the ear on your own wedding day,” he said, “I'm agreeable as such.”
Fergus chuckled, and ruffled a hand through Aedan's curly hair, shortened for the occasion, but still very much unruly.
“That you are,” he mused, while Aedan pretended to squirm, but he was only half-joking, and they both knew it, when he added: “We are ever so grateful.”
“You very well ought to be,” Aedan winced, doing what he could to tame back the newly-tousled mess on his head with his fingers, and struggling.
Oriana helped, picking a few curls from his forehead and gently pushing them back up. She was smiling oh-so-softly, and Fergus once again found himself staring, marvelled, at the woman that was now his wife.
“Well, sorry about this,” she said, “We didn't mean to embarrass you.”
He dipped his gaze, though, and his voice was much lower, when he spoke again.
“You're happy,” he murmured, “I'm glad.”
Oriana's smile widened, and she bent down to kiss Aedan's hair, a short peck which he didn't shy away from.
“Thank you,” she said, and Fergus would have said the same, if only his throat hadn't felt a bit tighter than it ought to, at the moment, and he wasn't sure he could have kept his voice steady.
“Alright,” Aedan said, then, louder, as if the moment had suddenly become too weighty for his taste – and maybe it had - “Let's head back, shall we? Lest Father gets worried for real, and sends the whole guard after us all.”
“Let's,” Fergus agreed, finding he was, unsurprisingly, not so fond of that scenario.
He let Aedan take the lead, while him and Oriana followed suit. They exchanged a long gaze, in the silence that had formed. She didn't need to say anything: the mischievous gleam in her dark eyes told Fergus everything he needed to know without her even needing to open her perfect mouth. Smiling back, he extended his arm for her to take. She was right: there would be time for the rest, and very soon. All the time in the world, really. Wasn't that what they were getting married for? A little more celebration with their gathered loved ones surely was no disagreeable way to spend the wait. Even if, as he suspected, they weren't going to fool a lot of people with a few flimsy excuses about needing a bit of air, and were sure to hear about this for the rest of their lives.
Well, Fergus thought, pressing his hand over Oriana's as they walked back into the hall, preceded by Aedan, this wasn't a memory he was going to regret making any time soon, anyway. That much he was certain of.
OMG Thankyou so much @joufancyhuh for asking about my oc! I’m going to go withAedan again… I’M SORRY I JUST LOVE HIM
Lasttime I focused exclusively on the base!timeline, so this time Ithought I’d sprinkle in a few modern!au Aedan facts, because WE LOVETHAT BOY TOO
kay lol here we go
1)Aedan sleeps mostly on his back, with his arm either propped underhis head, or slung across his face. Fergus jokes it’s a remnant fromfalling asleep reading well into the night so many times as a kid,but it’s actually always been like that, as Bryce and Eleanor wouldtestify.
2)He is fluent in Orlesian, and speaks a good deal of Nevarran andAntivan as well, although he does it all with a pretty strongFereldan accent. He was interested in learning more Tevene than justthe chance words he knows, but never got around to it.
3)After recovering from his wounds in the modern!au he can still drink,in moderation, but beer and white wine have straight up become bigno-nos. Harder stuff doesn’t make his digestive symptoms spike asbad, so he could get drunk on those, but then again, he’s not reallyinto finding out how bad being in too much of an altered state couldinteract with his PTSD. So he’s kind of become the designateddriver at every social outing now, and he doesn’t mind it. Kind ofthe opposite, really: he likes watching Alistair having anopportunity to unwind without having to worry about that kind ofstuff, for once, and having Zevran doze off against his shouldertrusting him entirely feels incredible. Overall being able to drivehis boys home safe after a night out is actually a big deal to him.
4)Aedan needs to see the sea, once in a while. Like… he just needsto. It’ll take him like a craving and as soon as he’s got the timehe’ll take the dogs and drive to the beach, usually alone, even ifjust for a quick walk. Rain or shine, he’ll always at least take hisshoes off and walk in the swash, if he doesn’t feel like a full-onbath (and he often does lol). He likes living in Denerim because it’sso close to the Ocean, but of course nothing in his eyes will evercompare to his native Waking Sea.
5)He’s an avid reader and he’ll read anything. And I mean: anything. Cheap thrillers, cringeyromance, cliché detective stories, science articles, newscommentary, popular novels he got curious about in the paper…whatever you hand him, he’ll read. He might complain loudly about thequality of it by the end, but he’ll diligently finish it anyway lol
@saltlordofold - Memories (Zevran x M!Warden): I would usually preface a Rec with a small summary of the piece, but I don’t want to spoil anything about this one. Allow yourself to read and be taken by it. Delicately written with an excellent overview of a relationship between Zevran and his Warden.
My favourite line from this would have to be: “Those eyes were much too green to match the color of the sea, here, and Zevran strangely loved that.” Such a simple, but touching thing. I really enjoyed this piece and the different parts that call back to earlier lines. Again, I don’t want to spoil anything but - you’ll see. You’ll see.
@imbiowaresbitch - Mourning (Sebastian x F!Hawke): A nice, swift, punch to gut featuring a Hawke that’s been left behind in the Fade. A small snippet from each of the DA2 companions, and a romanced Sebastian.
I really appreciate one detail - in this piece, in the letter Varric writes, there’s no nickname for Sebastian. Just his name and Sebastian can feel that whatever’s in that letter, it’s not good. A simple thing that twists the knife.
Take a look at this post for more info on Friday Fic Rec, and submit yours for me to read.
Ashkaari. Ben-Hassrath. Hissrad. He’s had many names, earned them all. Names that are armor, a burden glorious and heavy. They put the sword in his hands, and he learns it quickly. They give him a mission, he fulfills his duty. Under the Qun, he is worthy. Some dragon fire licks the inside of his ribs, this cage he holds closed, but the Qun keeps him from burning. Into the fray, he fights. Deep in the jungles of Seheron, he despairs. There’s blood in the grooves of his axe, of both friend and foe. Those who would betray the Qun, those who have betrayed the Qun, and he feels himself falter. He has been a butcher for too long.
Mercenary. Charger. The Iron Bull. He takes on more names, some given, and some taken. Carving out a life unlike any other he’s known, far away from the Qun. In the Qun, he still believes. Hearing the whispers, reporting them back to masters who cannot see him. Who do not know if he fulfills his duty. They do not speak back to him, and the flames still lick at him. Beginning to burn, to ache, a hurt without a reason he can place. Under the Qun, he is worthy. When the order comes, he knows he cannot disobey. The flames will take him, otherwise.
There is worthiness of a different kind, serving the Inquisitor. He has been too long without instruction, takes direction gladly. These orders are not meant to be orders. A choice, in each one – serve, or do not serve. There is no punishment and the Inquisitor still thinks him worthy. The Qun offers him a different choice. Inquisition. Bull. Tal-Vashoth. He’s had many names, earned them all. Some given, and some taken. He thinks he likes Kadan the best.
The very kind and sweet @saltlordofold tagged me to write five facts about a character. Thank you so much for thinking of me! I’ll tag whoever would like to do this. I’ll take this chance to write a bit about my Warden, Noya Mahariel.
Noya and Tamlen shared a close relationship, one with benefits. While Tamlen began to want more, Noya did not. They often spurred each other on and Noya harbors guilt for encouraging exploration and not voicing concern when they ventured down into the ruins.
Noya is very straight-forward. She doesn’t mince words and means what she says. This doesn’t mean that she’s cruel. She knows what words hurt and which ones don’t. It just means that she usually makes flat and truthful statements. She hates lying. Zevran is fond of pointing out the little frown she gets when she has to lie.
Zevran introduces her to a love of music. So used to the lullabies of her people, she greatly enjoys all the instruments and bands of the city. She likes what Zevran sings the best.
Noya fights with a shield and a spear. She mostly used just the spear for hunting when she travelled with her clan, and more liberally uses the shield with it when travelling to end the Blight.
She has a love of large and cozy sweaters, the sound of rain against glass, and a warm drink in her hands. She enjoys fighting, the thrill of it and knowing she can win, but enjoys peace just as much.
The lovely @lyriumyue tagged me to write five facts about a character! Thank you so much! <3 I’m going to go with my fave boy Aedan Cousland, to the surprise of absolutely no one.
1) Aedan is a great singer. You can bet Bryce Cousland made sure both his sons were trained to succeed where he had failed lol. So both Fergus and Aedan have been taking musical lessons since they were children, but where Fergus favors the wood-flute, Aedan’s best instrument was always his voice. He has a very rich baritone and always loved to sing, especially in prayer. It happened once or twice that he sung during the Blight, so the companions are aware of it, but it wasn’t often... Let’s just say the mood wasn’t there.
2) He was horribly afraid of Flemeth growing up. In my hc Highever has a lot of legends about her, she’s a figure of sorrow and horror who represents a lot of things, like the powers of nature, magic, and the dangers of passion, revenge, the threat of violence, justice... When the wind howls through the narrow streets of the town, Higheverians call the sound the Widow’s Wail, and toddler Aedan would hide under his covers shivering whenever he heard it, fearing the Grey Widow would come take him... Fergus always made gentle big-brother fun of him for it, but whenever things would get really bad he would come to bed with him and tell him stories to distract him until he fell asleep in his arms <3 Meeting - and killing her - for real during the Blight was... an interesting experience.
3) Fereldan nut-cake is a baked sweet loaf similar to spice-bread, made with rye flour, cloves, honey, pepper, and of course, whatever nuts and candied fruit you have available. Aedan. Hates. It. It’s unclear why, since he likes all the ingredients well enough separately. Maybe it’s the texture, or maybe he’s eaten too much of it once and lost the taste for it. Who knows. Fact is he can’t stand it, and can barely bring himself to force it down even in the direst of circumstances. Alistair was very perplexed but he would have his share so that was fine.
4) Another skill of Aedan that he didn’t get much use out of during the Blight is that he’s a fierce swimmer. Being a Coasltander makes it sort of inevitable but Aedan, just like his mother, really had the taste for it. He’d swim with the other town children until he was well of age, and throughout all his teenage years as well. It was a great way to keep his body trained, but he also loved the feeling of it, the serenity, the effort, the communion with the sea. Sometimes him and Eleanor would go on swimming trips together: They’d strap bundles of waxed sail fabric to their backs and swim to the nearest small island. There they would sit on the beach, or on some rocks, and eat the snacks they carried with them, talking, or sometimes just sharing the silence. Aedan is the one who taught Oren how to swim, cheered on by the rest of family of course.
5) Aedan is a fervent Shartan inclusionist. Ever since reading of the Dissonant Verses, baby Aedan became quite obsessed with the way Andraste’s story was told and retold, with which passages were considered holier than others, and with how closely the events of the Chant could be linked to the actual historical chronology of Thedas. There’s zero doubt in my mind that, had the Blight not happened, he’d have gone on to write at least a few pamphlets on the subject of the Missing Verses and of the quest for traces of the original close circle of Andraste’s advisors, like Justinia the First and of course, Shartan. “Andraste and Her Allies, A response to Sister Petrine’s "The Dissonant Verses"” or something lol
Well, this was fun! Thanks again for tagging me! I'm tagging @mikkeneko @jawsandbones @cupofrenchtea @minwrathous and @effelants
I was tagged by @ladymdc to write five facts about a character. Of course, I asked her who and she picked everyone’s favourite jewelry-horned angel, Khasre.
1. You’d think a big gentle guy like him would be afraid of babies (or hurting them!) and you would absolutely be wrong. Babies and small children are one of Khasre’s greatest joys and his favourite part about Skyhold. Being the oldest, he witnessed and helped a lot with the early care of most of his siblings. He becomes the favourite babysitter once the working women in Skyhold realize that a) he not only knows what he’s doing, but b) he enjoys doing it and so do the kiddos.
2. Related to 1 but Khasre will settle for no less than four children once he finds The One so just a heads up to his fanbase out there on the tumbl
3. Khasre is a functional cook. He can make sure you’re nourished and knows how to tell when food is done, but it’s not cute. He cannot wrap his head around the creativity needed for food plating, and don’t even start him on baking. It’s just not his skillset.
4. He loves magic, loves being a mage. While he understood the dangers of being born the way he was, he never grew in an environment where he was feared or hated by anyone he knew until he was well into adulthood. It hurt, but it never changed how he sees himself - someone who can assist, protect, do more. Khasre is eager for any learning regarding magic. He can be found between assignments lurking around the fortress listening in on debates between the mages of the Inner Circle (he may harbour some platonic crushes on Lady Vivienne and Dorian for both their elegance and expertise)
5. Of his six younger siblings, his eldest sisters Livae and Rujka are the two he is closest with (if we aren’t counting the others from the Jadeslayers, of course). He taught Livae how to fight with knives one-handed when she lost one arm as a preteen, and he used to lie for Rujka so she could sneak off with the girl she was sweet on at the time. Khasre and Livae frequently arm-wrestle to solve debates when they disagree; a little throwback to how he helped her build her strength after she lost the limb.
Tagging… @kagetsukai and @hylianblues and @inuy21 and @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul and @saltlordofold
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