a spirited potato and alder berry write stuff

[spirited-berry]

Clan Lavellan:

The year before they are given they’re vallaslin as part of the rite they spend a year in a human city. It does not have to be large, and they get to choose where.

This sometimes causes them to loose clan members, as sometimes ill fates are had or the elf decides to stay for some reason.

Most times, this only increases their numbers as city elves will join the clan when they return, or the occasional baby happens.

This is to strengthen they’re understanding of the human’s machinations and help share the dalish culture with the elves in the city. 

[spirited-berry]

"May I speak freely, inquisitor?" Lyna asks, coming to stand next to Val on the battlements. He had been staring off into the distance for quite some time and she had a feeling she knew what for. "Of course." He says, turning his attention to her. "What the fuck were you thinking?" She hisses, "Exploring the fade. You're not even a Mage!" "But I have the anchor-" "Rusca was so distraught, you've no idea!" She pauses to wipe tears from her eyes. "I thought he might hurt himself, he nearly did." "I didn't- lethallan, I didn't know..." "I don't know what I'd do without him. So, do better." "Vhenan..." Val says, sitting on his bed next to Rusca. "I am so sorry." "You're back now." Rusca says. Val swallows hard and wraps his arms around the smaller elf. "You are so important to me, I could not stand to be without you." "Val-" "I have been a fool. I will stop my attempts at using the anchor for magic." He says, "I would rather have you happy."

[alder-greatly-approves]

mixing Val and Rusca’s vallaslin was one of the best things I’ve ever done.

Red background because they’re story is made of angst.

[spirited-berry]

Lyna burst through the door and up the stairs finding Rusca where she had left him earlier that day in front of the hearth in Val's room. The hunter had refused to leave the Inquisitors quarters since she had pulled him from the balcony ledge a few days ago.

"He's alive!" her voice spilling into the space loudly "Val is alive! he's far from Adament but alive!"

She saw the first real stirrings of emotion from Rusca in days as he whipped his head around hopeful and terrified both at once.

"He's north of Antiva, near the Arlathan Forest. We just received word that four days ago he stumbled into a small village, exhausted but alive." the wardens face stretched into a large smile as she continued the news.

Rusca almost didnt let himself believe the words she spoke. Dared not. But the life in his chest which stirred refused to be ignored after the time spent feeling numb. He jumped from his spot the world swimming around him he dashed down the stairs and through the hall. Lyna followed closely behind as Rusca threw open the door to Josephines office; the three advisors already waiting.

"When do we leave." Rusca demands not giving them time to breath or exclude him even if they had a mind to. There was no force in Thedas that would keep him in Skyhold.

[alder-berry-ocs]

Since Adament

Since Adament he had been all but unresponsive. Meals left untouched and the only one who seemed to be able to go near him without violent results was Lyna. So on the fourth day when she came to bring him his meal which she knew would continue to go untouched and found his room empty panic gripped her. The only comfort being that his gear still lay in the heap where it had been left when they had returned to Skyhold. Her mind raced at where he could have gone, a small part of her hoping it was a sign toward the better but the greater part knowing him all too well.

She raced to the main hall, heart in her throat. It was still early and the son barely risen leaving the hall empty. She hoped she was traveling in the right direction as she ran towards Valstroth’s room…  she could barely heart her own heavy root falls over the beating of her heart as she took the stairs two at a time until she burst in to tidy quarters.

Her eyes danced around the barren room left untouched since before they had left to face the Grey Wardens and their escape from the nightmare which had manipulated them into unspeakable acts. She nearly turned to search elsewhere mind already racing on where Rusca may have retreated when she noticed the door to the balcony open.

Rusca sat on the ledge. Looking over the mountains facing east towards the breach. She approached slowly not wanting to startle him from his visage staring to desperately towards the tear in the heavens.

“Rusca…” she speaks softly

He doesn’t respond, his body overly relaxed as his eyes slowly drift from the skies to the valley below before turning to look at her. As she comes up beside him, gently, slowly, she notices the tears streaming down his face which was otherwise devoid of any emotion.

“Rusca…” she repeats wrapping her arms around him half to comfort and half to keep him there.

“I couldn’t…” he speaks for the first time since exiting the fade. Voice barely a whisper. “I promised…and I couldn’t.”

“Ma abelas, Rusca.” her heart filled with empathy at his words, having felt the pain and guilt herself so many years before which still haunted the deepest places in her mind.

He breaks finally crumpling into her arms as she pulls him from the railing. She lets his weight drag them both to the floor as she pulls him close.

“I tried” he chokes out between sobs.

“I Know. Creators know, I know.” she responds. It pained her deeply to see him cry but it was a relief after the days of him completely shutting down to see him show some sign of life.

They remained like that until Rusca exhausted himself through tears before Lyna gathered him up, frowning at how frail he hd gotten, and laid him in Val’s bed hoping the familiar space would allow him to sleep finally. She curled up behind him and pulled the blankets over knowing Alistair would understand later. For now, Rusca needed her to be there and she wouldn’t leave him this time.

[spirited-berry]

drabble: two thrones

Josephine watched well hidden horror as the Inquisitor paid little attention to the dignitary before him. They were lesser nobles, yes, but still Rusca showed more interest in the tapestry on the wall to the Lord speaking.

The visiting lord was turning an appropriate shade of red at the lack of respect shown. It only grew worse when the disrespectful leader held up a hand to silence the man. With no word or explanation Rusca stands and begins dragging his throne to the left. The sound of the heavy seat scrapping the stone floor echoing loudly throughout the hall as even Josephine's mask fell in abject mortification.

               "Your Worship-" she begins, only to be silenced as he raises his thing and tuts.

He then walks past the visiting dignitaries and nobles idly watching court with continued silence as he takes up one of the chairs which had been carefully moved against the wall. Carrying it to the raised dais and setting it next to his own throne giving it a nod before turning and facing the crowd.

               "Val." he states simply, gesturing for his friend to approach and then pointing to the chair. "Sit here." he commands before going back to his throne.

The dark haired hunter blinks in surprise but does as he's told knowing Rusca wouldn't continue with his business until he complied.

The Nobles face was a very livid shade of red as Rusca leans forward on his throne.

               "Now, continue." the Inquisitor instructs paying full attention to the man. He would let Josephine handle the smoothing over later.

[spirited-berry]

Drabble:

.           Darkness swallowed him, shadowed forms reaching out and clawing at Rusca's arm leaving him bloodied and screaming voiceless into the void around him. The whispers spoken by the voices of those he lost over taking all sound. He begged and screamed for help, unable to move pinned down by the claws dripping with his blood.  No matter how hard he tried to pull away the claws only went deeper. The voices louder, more taunting, sweetness dripping in venom.

           Val sat on the edge of Rusca's bed. His face twisted with concern and the only thing he was able to do was keep Rusca from clawing at the Marked arm already scarred and marred by the almost nightly ritual of the man clawing at it during his night terrors. Val shoots a look to the servant, Seran he believed he was called, who had woken Val up for help.. another near nightly ritual known by most of the servants which the inquisitor bedded.

           The younger hunter was patient and calm waiting for Rusca's nightmare to pass, knowing if he tried to wake him it would only make it worse as he had in the past. Minutes past, long, painful moments of time which he felt helpless unable to comfort his friend.

           Rusca woke violently, lashing out as he bolted upright his voice finally finding itself. Gasping for air and clutching his arm to his body, smearing the beading lines of fresh blood over his chest. His eyes dart to Val taking a moment to register who it was, terror still fresh on his face.

           "It's okay. We're safe." Val says softly, moving to wrap his arms around the other who lets himself melt into the embrace; letting the warmth of Val's body anchor him to the here and now. His familiar scent felt like home and continued soft words where a haven for his mind to cling to. Filtering out the whispers of his nightmare.

           Once he managed to shake the worst of it off Rusca pulls away looking at his arm with a scowl before grabbing one of the vials from his end table, pulling the cork with his teeth and downing it quickly. The act gaining a soft frown from Val, more worried about ill effects from the amount of the draughts Rusca seemed to drink daily than the act itself. He knew the mark caused Rusca pain even if the he refused to speak of it. Once Rusca was finished Val takes it upon himself to bandage the others arm another act which had become second nature to the both of them.

           With Rusca patched and calmed Val stands to leave, slightly shocked when the other reaches out and catches his arm stopping him.

           "Stay... please..." letting the words fall away as he often did in such moments. Refusing to look at the younger man.  

           He smiles softly  down at Rusca who looked so small and fragile; his callous manner and confidence stripped away like clothing once the two where alone. Val nods and Rusca lets go of his arm moving over in the bed to make room for him. He slips under the blankets pulling them around the two of them as Rusca wraps himself around Val settling into a calm space, Val was always a calm space.

[alder-berry-ocs]

supah fast colour! But I needed to complete /something/ since I haven’t in a very very long time.

On the left is Rusca Lavellan, snarky murder elf formerly of the Sabrae clan who joined clan Lavellan after the events in Da2…. and stumbles into the mess of the Inquisition.

On the right is Valstroth Lavellan, hyperactive sweet puppy that wont stop collecting flowers, who tags along with Rusca to find some excitement… he finds it.

Val belongs to @aspiritedpotato

[alder-berry-ocs]

Rusca is quickly becoming my most drawn OC…. when before he refused to let me draw him (guess he just wanted to be inquisitor and not a warden that badly?) 

…Rusca doesn’t know what to do when Val is sad… so he just goes and collects flowers and dumps them on Val until Val is happy again….. 

[thepotatodrawssometimes]

Valstroth Lavellan companion outfit #1 (because this little fashionista would likely have more than one). This would probably be something he would wear mid-late game, or maybe after his companion quest, as there’s a lot of more expensive items (silk, namely) that he wouldn’t have been able to afford to begin with.

do not repost // do not remove caption

[astrangertomykin]

My medieval servant boy has gone missing. I’ll just use Google to see if I can find him.

[astrangertomykin]

Oh bother.

[dggeoff-deactivated20161128]

im deleting this fucking website

[higheverrains-screenarchery]

High Resolution Images Here: Crestwood - Caer Bronach

Screencaptures by HigheverRains | Please credit.

[fyowls]

[alder-berry-ocs]

           Rusca had chosen, like many, to leave his name behind when Clan Lavellan took them in. Adopting the clans name in place in hopes of leaving the curse which seemed to haunt them behind. Hoping that removing evidence of Sabrae the Dread wolf would finally give them peace. Though his name was Lavellan, he had yet to settle into it like the others spending days at a time away and while the clan worked with humans on a regular basis he refused to take part in any of the dealings. He made no secret of his distrust of humans and even less of his distrust in mages which is why he was so surprised when Keeper Lavellan chose him to be the one to travel to the conclave in order to watch and see what was transpiring. His only assumption was that since he was not actually one of her clan that losing him to whatever fate might befall him would not be a heavy blow. He had heard the late night discussions between the elders, the arguments of who should be sent carried for several days until unexpectedly the Keeper had brought up Rusca’s name.

           The elders took to the idea readily once proposed, and so he found himself traveling. While the company of the energetic young hunter which Rusca suspected snuck away to join him was pleasant he missed the presence of his usual companion especially at night when they’d find a place to camp and his thoughts would catch up to him and he’d seek a distraction. During the day while traveling he was able to occupy his mind with distinguishing tracks and avoiding any others on the roads until they reached much closer to the Conclave.

           The area of the Conclave itself was uncomfortable for him. Filled with humans or city elves which might as well be human and being a holy site he couldn’t escape the endless droning of their Chant relying on a small camp just outside of the cluster of buildings they called Haven in order to escape. Venturing in to gather information only once a day and retreating shortly after.

           For a week things carried out like this until it became clear to get any further useful information they would have to begin actively taking part. Deciding that the following day they would travel to the Conclave and join in on the happenings. Rusca found the plan leaving a sour taste in his mouth but there seemed little else to do. Haunting the edges of a human settlement to scavenge for scraps of information was getting them nowhere, and perhaps the voices of those not involved in the conflict would help drive some sense into the mess of it.

[spirited-berry]

           As the edges of consciousness pulled at his mind, Rusca resisted. Reality was cold, hard, painful. Hard stone dug into his hip his head throbbed but nothing compared to the fire that was his arm, every nerve a sharp pain that shot from his hand up into his chest. He wakes screaming, flashes of dead memories in his mind mixed with pain.

           "Rusca! Rusca, it's okay.... it's okay." Valstroth's voice was soft as always when Rusca woke from his terrors. They had only been traveling together for a short time, but the younger man had made an impression on Rusca.

           Valstroth cursed the bars which separated them. It hadn't taken long after the explosion for the humans to blame the two Dalish elves...  the older in particular who had somehow survived the explosion. Now all Valstroth could do was watch over Rusca from across the cells. He himself had been in the cells alone for two days before they discarded Rusca, shackled and unconscious, into the cell across the room. The guards posted to watch over them refusing to answer any of Valstroth's questions. His concern growing every hour over the glowing green mark on his hand which pulsed whenever the ground shook.

           Rusca heard the words, trying hard to focus on the sound of the young hunters voice. To fight back the nightmare flashes which relentlessly plagued his mind and focus through the pain searing his arm. The soft voice edged with concern and panic.

           "Val?" his voice cracking while he shifted to look around. Iron bars and stone enclosed them... the grim statues holding up the pillars did little to lift ones spirits. "Where...." finding talking to be too much effort he concentrates on breathing.

           "Under their Chantry... They think we-"

           "No talking!" the sharp command from a guard interrupts.

           Two more guards enter flanking the door to Rusca's cell, as the original first enters roughly grabbing the elf and pulling him to his feet. If his pain had been less Rusca would have protested instead he used all his energy to not make a sound beyond a hard grunt as he was harshly pushed out to the center and back to the ground. He barely registers as another guard escorts Valstroth from the room, his eyes flicking up at him taking a moment to try and grasp the world around him. A smirk cracks his lips... he should have listened to his gut about staying away from the conclave... but at least the kid was all right.

head-8��0�)�

[alder-berry-ocs]

           Rusca had chosen, like many, to leave his name behind when Clan Lavellan took them in. Adopting the clans name in place in hopes of leaving the curse which seemed to haunt them behind. Hoping that removing evidence of Sabrae the Dread wolf would finally give them peace. Though his name was Lavellan, he had yet to settle into it like the others spending days at a time away and while the clan worked with humans on a regular basis he refused to take part in any of the dealings. He made no secret of his distrust of humans and even less of his distrust in mages which is why he was so surprised when Keeper Lavellan chose him to be the one to travel to the conclave in order to watch and see what was transpiring. His only assumption was that since he was not actually one of her clan that losing him to whatever fate might befall him would not be a heavy blow. He had heard the late night discussions between the elders, the arguments of who should be sent carried for several days until unexpectedly the Keeper had brought up Rusca’s name.

           The elders took to the idea readily once proposed, and so he found himself traveling. While the company of the energetic young hunter which Rusca suspected snuck away to join him was pleasant he missed the presence of his usual companion especially at night when they’d find a place to camp and his thoughts would catch up to him and he’d seek a distraction. During the day while traveling he was able to occupy his mind with distinguishing tracks and avoiding any others on the roads until they reached much closer to the Conclave.

           The area of the Conclave itself was uncomfortable for him. Filled with humans or city elves which might as well be human and being a holy site he couldn’t escape the endless droning of their Chant relying on a small camp just outside of the cluster of buildings they called Haven in order to escape. Venturing in to gather information only once a day and retreating shortly after.

           For a week things carried out like this until it became clear to get any further useful information they would have to begin actively taking part. Deciding that the following day they would travel to the Conclave and join in on the happenings. Rusca found the plan leaving a sour taste in his mouth but there seemed little else to do. Haunting the edges of a human settlement to scavenge for scraps of information was getting them nowhere, and perhaps the voices of those not involved in the conflict would help drive some sense into the mess of it.