#felandaristhorns

[dirtharaxma]

@felandaristhorns asks:  A tiny Renan asks: "Does it hurt you? The sun."

Athim frowns and cocks his head, gently, but pointedly, tugging on Renan’s cloak. “Does it not hurt you? Doesn’t it hurt everyone?”

[theharellan]

@felandaristhorns​ asked: I'd love a meta on Solas's relationship with magic - how he engages with the Fade, how that changes with the Veil, how (or if) it changes after he takes on Mythal's power? What does he think of magic in general? Has his view changed since waking up in the Dragon Age?

Solas’ relationship with his magic is very much like his relationship with his paintings, which is to say he views it as an extension of himself. His magic represents his feelings, his values, his strengths-- it is him, in the same way his art is him, or a facet of him.

You can see this in almost any scene where Solas uses magic and it’s an animation catered specifically to him. He summons Veilfire with a simple gesture during his conversation with the Inquisitor in the snow, in Trespasser it takes no more than a blink to reduce the Viddasala to stone, and in Tevinter Nights but a brief touch petrifies the Executor. The scene that comes to mind where he does exert effort into a spell is during Cole’s personal quest, where he has to concentrate a moment before he understands. That isn’t to say there’s never an effort, I’ve stressed before that Solas isn’t particularly powerful in Inquisition. He isn’t hiding or withholding his abilities, for reasons I’ll discuss later. Yet even in battle his magic doesn’t manifest as it does other mages, something Iron Bull notices.

Iron Bull: You’re not as flashy as most mages, Solas.

Iron Bull: The Tevinter mages I fought in Seheron tried to scare us with what they could do.

Iron Bull: Dorian looks like he’s waiting for applause after every spell. Even Viv has this confident swagger.

Iron Bull: Not the quiet elven mage, though. No frills. Nothing to give you away. Half our targets never even see you coming.

Solas: I shall take that as a compliment.

Iron Bull: If you like.

I want to write a meta on how this banter (and another Bull banter) characterises Solas’ behaviour in a fight overall (because it says a lot about how he wins fights, both as Solas and Fen’Harel), but for now I’ll just point out that Solas’ magic tends towards subtle and understated, but powerful.

His view towards magic, especially his own, hasn’t changed in the Dragon Age, it’s natural and inherent and not a black mark against someone. It is one of the parts of Thedas that confuses and angers him most, however. Magic is other even for many mages, something they feel negatively towards for most or all of their lives, no matter how many lives they may save with it or what art they might make. It’s incomprehensible, sometimes. Like if we woke up after a long sleep and found out that people with good singing voices are taught to hate themselves from an early age because of their talent. That he had a hand in the circumstances that led to this view of magic doesn’t help matters.

His abilities, however, do change with the Veil. Solas has lost most of his power, too weak to exert full control over his own orb and forced to rely upon Corypheus to access it for him, but it’s more than that. While he still has command over some spells (inferno, spirit, and rift spells in particular) there are others that are lost to him. Even spells he has a talent for, he botches, look to the banter with Vivienne where he sets himself on fire. That’s a side-effect of being able to simply dream a flame and having to pull that dream through a barrier and into a world inhospitable to dreams. As for powers lost to him, I think shapeshifting was a different art before the Veil, it required less study of the creature, and maintaining different shapes was simpler. Solas can’t shapeshift when he wakes, outside of the Fade he lacks the power to choose his form, he’s stuck as he is. He also needed to relearn how to heal, as he learned to heal through what amounted to accessing a person’s potential and future and bringing that through to cure the wound. That doesn’t work anymore.

We don’t yet know the full ramifications of absorbing Mythal, and I don’t particularly care to speculate because I may prefer to go along with canon or diverge a little rather than a lot. We do know it has possibly already altered him in some way, with the draconic wolves appearing everywhere in Tevinter Nights. Since dragons and the evanuris may be a thing in general, it’s not certain, and could be one manifestation of the Dread Wolf even before. We see he’s still capable of controlling his magic, although I imagine-- if I can continue with the comparisons to painting-- it feels less like pulling a brush across the page yourself and more like guiding someone else’s arm through the motion. I also think it depends what spells he’s accessing, some powers are his (the Anchor responds to him as it should, now) and others Mythal’s, and the former come more naturally than the latter.

In short, Solas’ relationship with magic and the Fade is that they are inextricable from him. Not even the Veil severs the relationship, only changes it, and perhaps makes the important of that relationship more pronounced. Solas has always loved the Fade and magic, but he certainly didn’t talk about it all the time before the Veil. Its absence is felt everywhere and in everything, and nearly inescapable.

[altuspavus]

@felandaristhorns​ said: 🌻 || Platonic soft meme (not accepting!)

          Greeting Dorian! It’s a silly little thing, for sure, but oh how it makes him happy if someone walks into a room where he is and says hello, or if he walks in and is said hello to. Back in Tevinter, while he was acknowledged, it was always in relation to others. He was the scion of House Pavus. He was an apprentice, an enchanter, a member of whichever Circle, he was studying under Alexius. He feels warm inside when he’s seen as just Dorian.

[ofgildedmuses]

@felandaristhorns liked for a lyric starter !!

         over the hills and far away -- led zeppelin

        ❝ 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 i've lied, and many times i've listened . ❞

[mxnstrel]

meme // accepting

@felandaristhorns asked: ❛ some relationships, like warts, can be handled with the tactful application of liquid nitrogen. ❜ (Listen I am 600% too slow to be starting new things but this line Spoke to me in Fenumin's voice and I felt compelled.)

❝---! Would a relationship truly be so lost as to handle it in such a manner?❞ asked the youth, blinking fast. Brio lifted his palms and rested them soft and light upon his own chest. ❝Cannot a relationship be salvaged if the intentions are present and good? Yet I--- of course, it is true, not all are good... But if that were so, a violent approach cannot be the only way, I would hope.❞  

[uitiocontactis]

@felandaristhorns​  || DISCOVERED the CARRIER

“Mary had a little lamb-” Softly did the figure sing, sharpening his dagger within his lap - cross legged and upon the ground. “Its heart was black as coal-”  Lifting the blade did blue eye inspect his work, the shimmering knife-edge more than adequate as far as he believed; “It crept into her room one night and ate her fucking soul.”  HE TURNS, VISION settling upon the figure he had been aware of for some time, head canting to one side in idle curiosity; “You’re the poison-master I hear so much about-”  

[lathal-a]

🙌

Send a 🙌 and I’ll introduce you to an NPC related to my Muse. 

Faron Lavellan

Faron is the first of clan Lavellan, unless I am interacting with a mage Lavellan, in which case she’s the second. She was born into another clan, and when she discovered her magic at about 10, was traded to be with clan Lavellan because they didn’t have enough mages. She and Iveani bonded quickly, since they were the only two there not born into the clan. They did date briefly as teenagers until they agreed that making things romantic made things weird. In some ways, the two of them are very similar, but Faron is more pessimistic and much more cautious.

Their relationship is intense, more than friendship but not romantic either. I’ll call it a queerplatonic relationship even though I’m not 100% sure if that fits exactly, either, since Iveani is also interested in a romantic relationship with someone else (though she would feel fulfilled as long as she had Faron). Iveani describes Faron as being the most important person in the world to her, and if she never left to go spy on the conclave, they would have ended up eventually adopting a child or two together.

[ofxelvhen]

Five times kissed for Thren and Darcy, I require it

send me five times kissed for a drabble about five times our muses kissed

@yelonelysouls

1.

After months, Thren’s still unsure on the whole cuddling thing. He hadn’t been cuddled since infancy before Darcy, had seldom even received so little as a hug- he was orphaned young and went to work as soon as he was old enough, as most in ailenages did. He was lucky enough to simply of Lemet’s family share their roof, he wasn’t going to ask for any more than they already gave. So he had never received much affection, save small things from Lemet himself.

Naturally, all of that had died with him.

It had taken a while for him to adjust to finding Darcy curled into him when he awoke, longer still to adjust to them cuddling into him while they were awake.It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, merely that he wasn’t used to it, never mind the casual kisses to his cheek or forehead He didn’t understand why they behaved thus, but he didn’t dislike it, no matter how he might complain.

So it wasn’t altogether odd for Thren to find himself sat in front of the campfire, Darcy tucked into his side, silence only broken by their content humming. Between the warmth, the gentle moonlight, and Darcy’s humming, Thren was starting to doze, eyes fluttering closed for longer intervals each time.

He feels them shift against his side and his eyes flutter open again, just long enough to watch as they lean in and press their lips against his. For a moment, he relaxes, feels the press of their soft lips and he almost gives a sleepy hum. And then his mind catches up and he’s blinking and pulling away with a confused frown. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest. He was too sleepy. And it had been nice.

2.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked into Redcliff. A welcome from Fiona, surely, but other than that he was uncertain. Nothing he found was it though. No welcome, not even any expectation and he had found Darcy. Darcy who had said they didn’t wish to join the rebel mages. He had thought Darcy died or left when he couldn’t find them again after the Conclave. He had only gone because they had asked him to.

And now he was tangled in this mess and Darcy had run off to hide with the other mages.

He sees them only a second before they see him. He watches the surprise and delight light up their face, watches them rush over and braces for the tight hug that comes when their arms wrap around him. He doesn’t hug them back, he seldom does, but he doesn’t protest. He didn’t realize until this moment, but he had missed having them at his side, their mannerisms and comments that went far over Thren’s head. But he had them back now, so why mourn a loss he no longer had.

They step out of the hug and before they move too far away, Thren finds himself leaning in and pressing their lips together in a kiss. Quick, there and gone again, but lingering just long enough for Darcy to recognize what it was.

3.

So he had all but given Briala the throne. Wrapped Gaspard around her finger and hoped she was wrapped tightly enough around his. It was the only way to help the elves of Orlais as he had been doing since Halamshiral. Lemet would be happy with this outcome. He was trying to be.

But they were back at Skyhold now, and Darcy had been quiet just as long as he had, left him to his own thoughts, let him digest what had just happened. It was, perhaps, the longest he had been around Darcy without them speaking even once. They hummed, he remembered them humming, remembered noting it distantly as his thoughts swam.

“Have sex with me.” The words had fallen easily off his tongue once he got them there, despite his internal debate on it, it felt right to propose, despite being braced to be turned down.

Instead Darcy steps up to where he was seated on the bed, leans down, and kisses him long and deeply and Thren feels his thoughts slowly try to slip away one by one.

4.

Final confrontation. Corypheus and his dragon were both dead. He was exhausted but it was over. The breach was sealed, and maybe there were still rifts here or there, but those weren’t nearly so big a deal.

He’s exhausted, still covered in blood from the battle when Solas leaves and it doesn’t surprise Thren in the slightest. Instead he stumbles on in pursuit of Darcy. Where had they ended up in the fight? Certainly they were okay, of course they were, he just had to find them. 

And find them he did, on the other side of the ruins. The moment they spot him, they rush over, already fussing, looking for injuries. Thren didn’t mind, but he didn’t feel injured. He felt elated. He felt like finally finally he had perhaps done something to balance out the debt he owed to Halamshiral. That finally he could be free of that shadow looming over him at all times.

He lifts a hand to Darcy’s chin and tips their head just enough to mash their lips together. He wasn’t sure, but he might be grinning as he did it.

5.

Darcy was angry. Thren found it almost funny how upset they were. Not that it was without merit, simply that he wasn’t. He was the angry one, he was the one that saw doom and gloom around every turn. But for once he felt they had come out on top. They had won this one, war had been averted and, sure, Solas had gotten away, and he was planning to destroy the world as they knew it.But they had won this one. And Thren hadn’t won one yet.

He felt good.

But Darcy was still angry, was still ranting. Thren just wanted them to relax. Just wanted them to feel what he did, right now. With his remaining hand he catches Darcy’s hip and pulls them closer catching their lips mid word with his own, his stump of an arm wrapped around their back holding them close.

He keeps kissing them until he feels them relax into him, kisses harder until he feels their knees go just a little weak, letting his hand move from their hip into their hair. Keeps kissing until he has to break it to breathe. “Stop worryin’,” he murmurs before pressing his lips to theirs again.