#glitch fic

[hlvr2-but-the-ai]

chapter 6 of my fic, 🅶🅻🅸🆃🅲🅷 is up on ao3!

check it out here!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420469/chapters/59529883

[hlvr2-but-the-ai]

i’m the author of the fic, 🅶🅻🅸🆃🅲🅷 over on ao3 by the way! the story hasn’t really hit much plot yet, but if you like benrey angst why don’t you check it out?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420469/chapters/58914448

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[servantofclio]

orchidcactus posted about a glitch she had that involved falling through the floor of Skyhold. I had that glitch, too, and well, Skyhold's a strange place, so...

random ficlet time?

Falling Through

It happens only a few weeks after their arrival at Skyhold. The main hall is still full of scaffolding and echoes with the calls of the workers. She weaves her way around a group of humans and dwarves with armloads of lumber, swift and nimble, headed into the rotunda at the base of the tower. She flings open the door in front of her, moving at speed—

For a moment she sees what she expects to see: the round chamber with its murals, and Solas bending over the desk to frown at the sketches in the center. She can even smell the peculiar sharp scent of the pigment and plaster—

And then it disappears, and she can see blue sky dead ahead, and below. She is moving too fast, so she has no chance to stop herself before her foot comes down where the floor is supposed to be and is not.

Instead of her heel meeting stone, she plunges through air that flickers blue and white around her. There is a roaring in her ears.

Hitting the ground (what ground?) is a shock. She tumbles down onto her backside, catching herself on her hands, and stares around herself in confusion. She is on bare earth and stone. There is the waterfall before her, deafening with the rush and the spray, so bright in the sunlight that she can hardly make out the dark space around her. It smells of earth and water—a cave? Some part of the foundation? But she can see the open air, so—how?

Over to her left, there is a glint of red in the shadows. For a moment, she thinks it is the forge, that perhaps she mistook where she was going and headed down to the undercroft, but—does it move?

She pushes herself to her feet and brushes the grit off her palms. Her mark lies quiet in her hand. Whatever is happening here, it is not a rift. Something tells her not to look too closely at whatever lies in that darkness. Instead she steps forward, toward the roar and the water and the light.

Outside, she finds herself at the base of the fortress’s ramparts, and cannot quite recall how she got there.