These one-shots skip around chronologically and mainly give me a break from my main writing.
Each title is a link, Click it for the whole post. These are all written as answered prompts for the Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle.
My first drabble for DA drunk writing circle. (Prompt: Walking on ice). Teenage Teiran Lavellan showing off her archery skills and her older brother Ivun.
She launched herself as far as she could onto the lake, letting her feet slide under her, completely focused on keeping her balance. When she could direct her gaze somewhere besides her feet, Teiran realized she had slid farther to the left than she had intended, but was only a handful of yards from her goal. Emboldened as only a young adult could be, Teiran began to walk on the ice. Halfway through her second stride, she slipped, landing on her elbow and shoulder.
Karissa Trevisan’s first drabble, introducing her as a character. The mystery of the appearance of lilacs within the Inquisitor’s bed chambers and who could have been the one to send them.
Karissa smiled lightly, “Good night, Lady Montilyet.” Karissa tucked the new scrolls into her messenger bag, placing them in the central pocket with those lacking the Inquisitor’s signature. “Could it be Lady Montilyet? She was kind enough to send the flowers, but if it was her she seems like the type to leave a note.” Karissa argued with herself.
Her waist-long braid hit her stomach as she turned for the door and left the cozy office.
A moment from an early-relationship Iron Bull and Dorian. Nothing explicit, but suggestive. Dorian trying to keep his distance from a real relationship.
Dorian smiled charmingly, “Oh, don’t tell me this is the part where we cuddle and declare our undying love for each other?”
The Iron Bull wasn’t fazed by the rebuff; he continued in the same light tone, “Ha. All I’m sayin is you can stay a minute. Catch your breath. After all, wouldn’t want anyone to see you so …” He ran his eye over Dorian’s flushed cheeks, “Sparkly.”
Post-Trespasser moment in Skyhold. Former Inquisitor Lavellan coming to accept her new life after all the changes that have happened in the past couple of years. She’s been depressed for awhile at this point and is finally starting to recover.
Teiran resumed her slow march towards the throne at the end of the hall. The voices and memories spun endlessly through her mind with each step: laughter, the soft buzz of many voices, the rustle of fabric overhead, the constant movement of couriers, the weighty feeling that the world was changing with every step; it was all gone.
A squeak pierced Teiran’s nostalgia. Morrigan was grooming her face by the door to the forge; she rose onto her hind legs and squeaked again.
My Cullen POV. Post-game, but pre-Trespasser. This is a piece that goes with my “Quest for Drunkeness” idea that has yet to be written.
The Iron Bull crossed one arm across his wide chest and gestured with the other, “There you go! Let it out Red. Get it off your chest.”
Cullen watched in horror as a dagger flashed across the room aimed at the Iron Bull’s left side, missing Josephine completely. Reflexively, Cullen dashed to defend the target when he heard the “plink” of metal on stone. The Commander slowed then stopped as he realized the Iron Bull had dodged the attack and Leliana’s knife lay harmlessly in the corner. The Iron Bull’s roaring laugh stood in stark contrast to Josephine’s stunned expression.
Mother’s Never Get A Break
Morrigan POV; Post-Well of Sorrows. Trying to pull clothes over damp skin. Poor Karissa just trying to do her job.
Morrigan sensed rather than heard the light step of her son in the distance, but approaching. Cursing the end of her seldom minutes alone that is the bane of motherhood, Morrigan stood, threw the bucket of clean water over her head and rushed for her towel. Now she could hear the pattern of his speech, he was pelting someone with questions. “Fantastic! We have guests.” Morrigan bemoaned, knowing she didn’t have time to arrange her usual outfit and calculating what would be easiest to throw on.
About mid-way through the game in the Exhalted Plains, Iron Bull and Inquisitor Teiran Lavellan become injured. Showing the team working together. Iron Bull and Dorian showing off some relationship-growth.
The momentum of Bull’s movement caused the assassin’s knife to sink into the Qunari’s shoulder. Then, Iron Bull fell forward pushing Teiran under him and to the ground.
The assailant only had a moment to savor the heady satisfaction of vengeance for the deaths of their comrades. One after another, arrows and bolts sunk into their body from adjacent angles. The vengeful rouge swayed as each arrow pierced his flesh.
The air shook with the sound of all three bodies clattering against the wooden planks. Everyone ran, racing towards Bull and Teiran from their various locations.
A bit of Solavellan fluff on their way to Crestwood. A sweet moment before the disaster that follows.
She answered teasingly, running a soft hand across the hard planes of his face, “Well, if I found it in my heart to forgive everyone else’s crimes, I suppose I could grant you this pardon.”
Solas closed his eyes and took her hand from his face, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her palm gently, his eyes still closed. “You are most merciful, Inquisitor Lavellan.”
Leliana’s Scouts VS Cullen’s Soldiers
This is a running game I imagined taking place throughout Thedas to compensate for the boredom that must ensue when following around the Inner Circle collecting extra resources that they leave to be sent back to Skyhold. Josephine is not amused.
Commander Cullen appeared in her office, closing the door gently behind him. “Ah, we’re all here. Good.” Cullen observed awkwardly, still standing in the entryway.
Josephine sighed and beckoned him, “Please, have a seat Commander. Leliana?” She arched an eyebrow at her friend, warning her away from thoughts bent towards pilfering her messages.
After the Arbor Wilds campaign, Karissa waits in Cullen’s room for him to come home. Established relationship.
Cullen jumped up from the bed with a hand to his forehead, “Oh! I-I have something for you! Seeds and clippings from the Arbor Wilds for your garden. I left them downstairs! I-I didn’t know I would be seeing you tonight.” He glanced at her, searching her face for offense, “Not that I didn’t want to see you tonight. Of course. Unless you want to leave that is. I mean—” Karissa put a hand to his lips, silencing his nervous babbling.
Introducing Aedan Cousland
Being a rogue, Cousland is carried away within the Fade from one scene to another. Snippets of his background through a dream-fogged lens.
Two daggers are in Aedan’s hands, familiar streaks of silver meeting the wooden shield Fergus pulls between them. The brothers mock glare at each other as they spar, neither interested in the outcome. No matter who wins this encounter, Fergus Cousland would be Teyrn and then his son after him, carrying the line away from Aedan. Destined to be a footnote in the Cousland legacy, Aedan halfheartedly bounces his attack off the shield’s heraldry.
A typical morning for the Inquisition’s Inner Circle and Advisors sitting down to their morning meal before setting out to quest around Thedas.
“Hey! Quizzy!” Sera called, swooping across the table to swipe a biscuit off of Jaq’s plate. The archer reared back and launched her attack, biscuit sailing through the air and towards the oblivious Inquisitor.
Mid-air, Cassandra reached for the projectile, catching it with ease and annoyance. Cassandra’s movement startling her, Teiran jumped back from her thoughts. Her journal snapping closed as she steadied herself back into a sitting position at the table. Teiran exhaled in a sharp sigh as she realized the situation, frowning at the biscuit in Cassandra’s hand. Sera stuck her tongue out at the Seeker’s reproachful glare.
A Trip to Castle Cousland
Arl Aedan Cousland, mourning the loss of his love and adjusting to his life post-Archdemon, returns to his home to check in on his older brother Fergus who is acting a bit strange lately.
Alistair severed Loghain’s head from his body and the headless corpse bled silently. Alistair approached him, bloody sword still in hand, “Why?”
Aedan swallowed, “I could not. If I had then I could not be with. . .” The shadows congealed around a striking, wild, dark haired woman with piercing golden eyes who remained just out of sight. Aedan half-turned towards the new ghost, “Such as with you, she would not have been satisfied with that life. You both want to be free-wheeling heroes, not etiquette-bound rulers.” Aedan smiled fondly at Alistair, who had regained his typical genial manner and held a hand out to shake his hand.
Before the two friend’s hands could meet, a fireball engulfed Alistair and another fiery spell preceded Morrigan’s arrival. Aedan stumbled back, propelled by the heat.
This is a combination of prompts: a high stakes archery contest, Dagna & Sera, and one watching another practice their skills. So, Sera gets to show off some archery skills with the enthusiastic dwarf watching.
Blackwall put aside his carving knife and watched Sera approach with an animated bounce in her step. He braced himself for whatever mischief was headed his way.Teiran glanced down at the note again: a mock-formal invitation penned by Varric. Curious, she stepped out Skyhold’s main entrance towards the Herald’s Rest. An energized crowd encircled the outside of the tavern, weaving around Cassandra’s slashed dummies and standing on tiptoe to gain a better view.
The prompt asked for Inquisitor Teiran Lavellan for 99.9% Immunity (meaning that they don’t get sick often, which unfortunately is not true for the isolated Dalish who is now traipsing around Thedas). So, I modified it so that it’s Teiran who has taken down her more immunity-gifted companions.
Varric met Cassandra’s stunned expression and chuckled, “Who knew a mage with a cold could be so dangerous?”
“That is not true of all mages, Varric.” Vivienne answered vehemently from her cot beside Cassandra’s.
“Please. Not now.” Teiran’s hoarse whisper floated from the back of the room, followed by a series of coughs from the elven Inquisitor.
“Loner! You’re awake.” Varric commented dryly.“Unfortunately.” Teiran replied, holding a hand to her eyes to block out any flicker of light that would add to her migraine.
Compassion and the Lady of Iron
Vivienne de Fer attempts to have a vulnerable, private moment. Cole attempts to help. The result is. . .less than desirable.
Caught in her moment of vulnerability and sensing a demon in their midst, a stray thought of “Am I in the Fade?” passed through Vivienne’s mind before the blow. Lightening arcing from her palm, she struck above her with the speed and grace of a snake. Throwing her bedroll aside, Vivienne twisted away from the demon and stood, tears fresh on her face and her finely shaved head brushing the top of the tent’s canvas and pole.
Two screams registered on Vivienne’s right, one following the other. The mage glanced over and froze in shock. Sera was hysterical, jumping around like a rabbit caught in a snare. Teiran’s back was to the enchanter, but the gleam of steel and a knife’s handle protruded grotesquely from the elf’s side. The horror on Cassandra’s face and the blood on the Seeker’s hands as she held the Inquisitor in place made Vivienne feel as if she had been the one struck by lightning.
