More DA memes, ft characters from games other than veilguard (although its mostly veilguard). Sequel to this post
Bonus meme based off of this panel from the Missing comics below the cut
Featuring character mentions/cameos from @soturoayami @quietisthenight @wickedadaar @pandorazlost @aislingavry and @lunammoon
Word count: 6144 words
CW: Blood and gore
Looking up at the stars his lover always spoke so highly of, it was easy to forget how dead and blighted everything below them was. Is this how the Anderfels usually were, or has this blight to end all blights exacerbated some long lost rot in the soil? Even doing his best to look past the blight boils and writhing masses, the walk from the eluvian had Malais shivering in his borrowed furs and boots. Malais wrapped his lover’s cloak around him tighter for warmth as he kicked a rock wondering how anything lives up here, how did Polaris even manage it?
The rock skitters and ends up ricochetting off of some random Warden’s resting at a camp fire shield, who proceeds to give Malais the stink eye. The Lord huffs, the cold air showing the action clear as day. It’s not his fault this forward base is cramped and everyone (Malais included) is on their last nerve. Apparently, these blighted dragons caused enough devastation to destroy Minrathous’s army leading to the coup d'etat. This specific one the Wardens are hunting nearly destroyed Treviso. Malais only has experience fighting a dragon once and that one wasn’t blighted nor were all the Lords he knew enough to kill it. Malais fussed with his hands as he paced mindlessly up the destroyed Manor the Veilguard was using as a base. Honestly, what was the difference between a blighted dragon and an Archdemon anyways? They seemed practically the same thing (a thought that did nothing for Malais’s nerves) although, the elf was sure all the Warden’s in his life would chastise him for the oversimplification.
Malais had paced down to the southern gate, the trail he’s making clear as day in the packing snow. When was Polaris going to come back? He’d left to go talk to Jin, something about Warden positions and what have you, Malais understood the Wardens were the closest thing the Veilguard had to a real army. What he didn’t understand is why if there was some meeting, why every Warden wasn’t there and what was taking Polaris so long? As Malais scanned the crowd for his Warden (as if to mentally make a point to himself) he saw a familiar vibrant blue dye job in the sea of silver and emblazoned griffon armor, Malais’s eyes stopped to focus on Ivey for a moment before they widened in shock. Behind the elf was an even more familiar face, or should Malais say familial? What the fuck was Oakley doing here? Wasn’t he supposed to be back at home resting from the last time he did something death defying? Whose idea was it to bring him here!
He couldn’t tell if it was worry or irateness more that fueled Malais’s steps as he marched up to the pair who seemed to be prepping their anxieties away like everyone else, Oakley seemingly staying within fussing distance of his wife. When seeing the Lord approach Ivey stopped tightening the bracer on her bow arm to look beyond him, disappointment quickly followed as the elf she’s looking for is still missing. Sorry Ivey, Malais thinks to himself in a tone that’s not sorry at all, the one time we’re not a packaged pair.
“Malais! Where’s Po-“
“Probably with your boss.” The Lord interrupts, an affronted look crossing Ivey’s face. But before he gets cursed out Malais has a very important question he needs to ask. He uncrosses his arms to point in Oakley’s direction and hisses under his breath. “What is my amnesiac brother doing here? Shouldn’t he be, I don’t know, at home! On bed rest!”
Ivey’s face shifted from rising anger to pissed yet with an undertone of understanding. Her head turned slightly before stopping itself as if resisting turning back to look at Oakley and giving away he was the topic of conversation. The Warden’s eyes flicker back as she whispers to her in-law. “You honestly think I didn’t try that? I didn’t invite him here, I told Oakley to stay and he refused! You know how stubborn he can get when he’s insisting on something.”
Malais’s lips pursed at Ivey’s explanation, clearly not liking the answer she had to give. For a lack of a real resolution on what to do now that Oakley was already here, the Lord deflected with a mean spirited joke. “Sedating him seemed to work pretty well before, did you give that a go?”
Any semblance of understanding went out the window at Malais’s sarcasm as Ivey couldn’t help but raise her voice a bit. “I am NOT seda-”
“What’s going on?”
The sudden loud voices didn’t go unnoticed as the topic of everyone’s concerns piped up, walking over to Ivey and looking at her with concern. The two elves fell silent for a moment, Malais in particular watching as Oakley seemed to regard Ivey with care again. He waited a beat to see if any of that recognition would be extended towards him, only to be left with a bitter taste in his mouth when his brother turned to look at him once again seeing a stranger. Emerald green eyes flit away as Malais could not find it in himself to return that gaze, ears drooping a bit instinctively.
“Nothing. I’ll tell Polaris you said ‘Hi’, Ivey. Just…” Malais dared to sneak a glance up at the couple as he before he began to back away. “Stay safe, the both of you. Please.”
Malais turned and left. He could hear Oakley asking Ivey about who he was speaking too in the distance and walked faster. Wrapping the fur cloak around them tighter Malais headed in the direction he saw Polaris walk in earlier. If his partner wouldn’t come back, Malais would just go to him; maybe all three of them can toss Oaf-ley back through the eluvian and make it back in time for the fight. Malais huffed at his own silly thoughts, the idea calming his nerves a smidge- he’ll have to tell Polaris that joke when he finds him. Unfortunately, he didn’t get that far before the blighted dragon’s terrible ear splitting roar rippled through the earth and chaos erupted in every corner of the forward camp.
This is a nightmare. There was darkspawn crawling out of every crevasse and just when you killed a blighter gunning for your throat, two more took its place. This is Weisshaupt all over again, an impending slaughter where the blight and viscera mix together so thoroughly it's impossible to tell them apart- only this time when everyone dies there will be a nice dusting of snowflakes on the corpses.
No, no! Malais shakes his head and the mental images from it. Not going to fucking happen, he’s going to find Polaris, and Oakley, and Ivey and- and- anyone else he can before darkspawn tear their throat out and blight them! This won’t be another Weisshaupt because Malais won’t let it be another Weisshaupt. He survived that slaughter, and he has so many more things to fight for now.
The Lord runs across the castle battlements, several hurlocks chasing behind him their thundering footsteps drowned out in the chaos. In front of him, a genlock sees the elf coming and prepares to swing its axe at Malais’s stomach as if to cut the elf in two. Malais fade-steps beyond the attack, the genlock making a confused garbled grunt as it turns its head to keep up with the mage’s momentum. The Lord reaches a hand out to the edge of the battlement as if reaching for something before grasping his fist around it, the snowflakes on the edge reacting as Malais twists his body to throw the fist at the darkspawn: the gentle snowflakes suddenly becoming massive ice spikes rushing forth, impaling Malais’s chosen target and blocking on his pursuers with an ice wall in one stroke. The genlock makes a new garbled plea, this time around the blood spilling from its throat, a plea Malais has no mercy for. One darkspawn down, a horde with two dragons and a god to go.
Speaking of, Malais snuck a glance towards the center of the pit as they continued to run along the battlements looking for any of his loved ones. At some point in the chaos, another blighted dragon had joined and burned a battalion of Wardens to death. All Malais can do is pray to gods he doesn’t believe in that he didn’t know any of them. Before the Lord could turn his eyes away from the awful spectacle below, his attention (and himself) was forcibly dragged back to reality as something grabbed the fur cloak trailing behind him. Yanked to a stop and then off of his feet, Malais found himself in the grasp of an ogre climbing the blighted battlements. There was a moment of shellshock where the Lord dangled in the darkspawn’s grasp, racking his brain for the best way out of this situation. Shit. He’s never been this close to one of these hulking beasts before, what would be best? Fire, ice, electricity? Did Polaris ever tell him anything about the-
Before Malais could ever come up with anything, the ogre slammed the small elf into a calcified wall of blight. The pain is instant and blinding as Malais’s vision goes white. He can’t breathe, and it feels like something has stabbed his chest every time he gets a breath in. Fuck, did he break something? The blinding white doesn’t fade and it takes Malais a moment to realize his eyes are actually open, rather than screwed shut in pain. The light turns hotter and hotter til it's scorching, leaving Malais weakly covering his face from whatever is emanating the light. The warm furs picked out by Polaris feel blistering as Malais suddenly feels as if he’s tossed inside of a kiln. Malais squints through the heat, barely making out a figure. The first thing Malais registers is the colors, the rainbow cacophony reminding him of the birds back home. The second thing he notices is the ogre is dead and ash before it could let out a blood-curdling scream. Perhaps Malais should be scared, perhaps he should try to hold his ribs together and run away but some deeper part of Malais knows better.
Some deeper part of Malais can feel it, the same part that sings whenever a spirit is near, he’s safe. At least, for a moment, there is respite. In that calm sanctuary of ash and feathers founded in the beats between the dragons’ roars, Malais lets his eyes close against the harsh light. It was so warm and calm Malais felt like he could almost…
“This is not a good place for a nap, there are no good dreams here.”
The voice behind Malais wasn’t just calming, it was familiar. Normally, it was a voice Malais would hear accompanied by giggles and laughter not the tense tone Desi was taking with him currently. The Lord opened his eyes struggling to take a wheezing breath that caused him to wince as he leaned his head back in confusion at the friend holding him. Was Malais hallucinating, or was Desi the source of the light? It must be a vision for his friend was not this tall, nor did he have that many eyes.
Desi looked at Malais hearing his confusion as if the other elf said it aloud. “I am who you believe! What is important is that you are hurt.” Emerald eyes widened a bit as it sunk in, Malais realizing beyond the pain that he’s seen this version of Desi before. It was a flash during their first meeting, confirmation that he was Joy, whatever Desi is doing now seems to be on an entirely different level. The crumpled elf in Joy’s arms opens his mouth as if to say something about this revelation, only getting a few syllables out before a sharp pain catches up to him. Desi’s gaze turns sympathetic. “You do not need to hurt yourself and talk. I can hear you.”
A haggard breath was all Malais could give in response before nodding. “Good, good!” Joy chirps out far more tensely than his usual melody, it was a dissonance of chaos and anger but he needed to focus. “Where are you injured? I will fix it.” Mental images flooded Malais’s mind before he could stop himself, like trying to stop oneself from imagining a deepstalker as soon as it's mentioned. Thoughts trailed to his chest and the sharp pains with every breath, to his older brother who had his heart sick with worry, to Polaris who was alone somewhere in this mess when they promised to stay together.
Well, the spirit looked down at his friend sadly feeling all the emotions wash over him as they rippled through the Fade, Desi can fix one of those problems. Joy pressed an affirming forehead kiss to Malais’s head as a soft hum of healing magic worked through his hands. It wasn’t an instant solution but it would be enough to make breathing and speaking bearable for now. Malais coughs- the stuttered breaths that were so hard to do a moment ago, well it doesn’t feel natural but it certainly feels easier.
“Th-hack- Thanks.” Malais coughs out his appreciation as his lungs begin to work properly, emerald eyes settling on his friend in disbelief. Is he sure he didn’t hit his head and this is all some elaborate dream?
“You are welcome!” Desi chirps, a bit more cheerily this time seeing Malais recover. “You are not dreaming, awake or otherwise. I can look at your head though if you do not believe me.”
“No, no. I just- how are you here? And like that.”
“You needed help and I felt the echo across the battlefield. I was not about to let the Anger’s rot take someone I care for.”
Malais paused as he sat up, soaking in Desi’s words. Not all of them made sense to him but the ones that did touched the mage. “I don’t know what to say other than thank you. I didn’t expect you to be here or to show up so, so-” The elf waves his hands around aimlessly as if looking for a way to describe Desi’s drastic appearance change. “-spectacularly?”
Desi smiled widely, the colors in his flames matching his wild feathers for a moment. “Expectations are known to fall flat, are they not?”
Despite their fraught situation, Malais gave a small smile. A gesture Joy seemed to greatly appreciate, even as their own smile grew faint. An ethereal hand came to Desi’s head, holding it as if he was experiencing a migraine catching up to him. Malais’s smile faltered and this vision of Desi flickered like a flame running low on timber. Before the mage could properly process what was happening to the spirit who saved him, the fleshy, mortal; elf-y Desi the Lord had always known was in front of him once more. Okay? That was odd. Then again, most things about spirits were.
Rather than properly process what that just was or how it came to be, the ground around the two elves began to shake. The twisted wall of calcified blight that Malais had been slammed into moments ago was cracking, a pulsating layer writhing free of its stoney prison. Malais tried to stand up, the dulled pain in his ribs causing him to stumble before Desi could pull him back from falling where the two were sitting seconds ago, as if the blight was seeking them out. Desi made a face Malais had never seen on the joyous elf before as he curled his lip in contempt mumbling to the blight, “Damned Anger’s rot.” Malais might not have known what ‘Anger’s rot’ was the first time Desi brought it up, but the blight tentacle nearly falling on his head was a massive context clue. The Lord stumbled up to his full height, checking his friend over breathless from the second near-death experience tonight. Malais nods back seeing despite all the wincing, he can’t find any injuries on Desi. “Yeah, fuck that.”
Anything else Desi might have said in response is drowned out by a dragon’s roar, a cheer filling the battlefield as one of the bastards falls down. Another dragon pierced by more ballista bolts than Malais can count attempts to soar through the skies, barely reaching above the palisades and shooting fire everywhere it can reach in its death throws. Just as more victorious cheers for a presumed victory ring through the skies the blight littering the arena begins to react with the goddess conducting it. The tendril next to the two elves begins to slither and snake, more thrashing free. This time Malais tugged on Desi, the spirit rubbing at his eyes as he pulled them deeper along the battlements, the pair having nowhere to run but forward towards a hopeful salvation. As if rejuvenated by the blight, darkspawn began crawling out of the woodwork like cockroaches far too stubborn to die. On one side Hurlocks heave themselves over stones meant to withstand an onslaught, not this apocalyptic slaughter; on another a Shriek screams as if to prove its namesake. The hand holding Malais’s heats up as Desi responds as quickly to the blighted threat with a flash fire, the comforting warmth that cradled Malais and healed his injuries mercilessly rises to incinerate all the Hurlocks that cross its path. Desi’s hand was getting hot as he used his magic, almost unbearably so yet Malais didn’t dare let go. How could he ever? The Shriek on the other side of the pair had stopped running, Malais doubted it was in fear, darkspawn didn’t seem to know the definition of the word, rather from his previous encounters with Shrieks he knows whenever they stop running they pounce. Malais kept his eyes forward and pretended not to hear the absence of mutated footsteps keeping pace with theirs. A breath passes, then two, and then the first note of an ear piercing howl slices the night in half as Malais, already prepared for this, grabs Desi and pulls him down with him to the cobblestones with a shout of his own, “Down!” The Shriek pounces over the pair, hitting air where their heads used to be. It howls its displeasure at being tricked, the knives on its hands reflecting moonlight as it skitters and tries to regain footing on the cold stone. Malais doesn’t let the Shriek sit for long before sending a wave of force magic its way, pushing the monstrosity into Desi’s flames as it shrieks a new song.
The darkspawns howling in agony behind them were swiftly ignored by the two elves as they pushed forward, eventually reaching an alcove that was so burnt by dragon fire that no dared to thrive. Malais stopped dragging Desi, both elves taking a moment to breathe in the chaos. Chaos smelled a lot like char and blood. The air and the fade around it suddenly became an unbearable weight on Malais’s shoulders. The mage couldn’t find it in himself to move, the world around him seemingly stilling in response. After what felt like an eternity and also no time at all, Malais finds the will to move again. He knows he was concerned for his companion just a moment ago, looking Desi over with concern but can’t remember why. Was it the darkspawn chasing them? It must be. “I don’t think they’ll get us here.” Malais comments as he stands up straight and regains his senses.
Desi’s eyebrows crease together, a tense tone’s grip constricts around the spirit as he realizes he’s the only witness to the gods most recent tearing of the fade. Desi can’t help but look around trying to see events that have already passed and finding only echos to prove it happened at all. The flames in their eyes flash many colors in a panic before settling on a blinding white, Joy not-so-joyously points at a pile of ashen blight and char. “We are not as safe as you believe!”
The Lord turns his head, first seeing the still walking corpses of darkspawn burst into flames from across the battlefield like bonfires. Malais almost felt pity as he watched a few of them try and pat out the flames, not realizing whatever mage did that already signed their death warrant. A bunch of darkspawn dying doesn’t seem that bad. Focusing his gaze closer to where Desi pointed, Malais sees… nothing. That is, until he realizes that pile of ashen blight is moving and whimpering in pain.
At first, Malais thought perhaps this was another darkspawn burned to a crisp like those immolated across the battlefield into embers and ash. But as Malais looked through the bloodied burns he saw no claws, no sharped teeth behind burnt off lips, and ears (or what’s left of them) far too long to be a human’s. The elf was curled in on themselves against the flames as if that could protect them from the burns. This had been someone, someone left unrecognizable by the carnage Desi and Malais had barely been spared. Malais’s breath whispered onto the winter wind, “Poor bastard, what a horrible way to go out.”
“They’re not dead yet.” Desi observed with the morose confidence of someone who had seen people burn to death before. “But they are not long for this world, their injuries will make sure of that.”
Malais turns on his heel, looking at his friend imploringly. “If they’re alive why can’t you just do that big light thingy you did for me! That worked! I’m alive!”
Desi smiled softly, it was not a smile Malais had seen on his face before. This was not a grin you wear when telling silly jokes or giving a friend advice, this a smile you wear when giving someone devastating news to soften the blow. “You are alive because the twisted are dull and slow. Fire is their bane and our boon. Do not lose focus.”
“‘Lose focus’? You just told me someone is alive and you call that ‘losing focus’?! Aren’t you even going to try?”
At Malais’s heated objections, Desi looked over at the immolated elf once more. Whereas Malais could only see on the surface, Desi could feel deeper as the mystery elf’s feeling vibrated through the fade and bounced off of him like a ripple in a lake hitting an anchoring lilypad. Pain; fear, common responses Desi has heard from many on the edge, flashes of loved ones; a home they cannot return to; memories of adventures had and future ones planned yet not fulfilled. The more Desi listened, the more his gaze softened. While he had originally planned to put this elf out of their misery no matter what Malais had to say about it (despite his good intentions, Malais was too young and too focused on this side to see the bigger picture) perhaps his friend’s youthful naivety was rubbing off on Desi after all.
“It is too much for me to do on my own.” Desi comments as he turns to look at Malais. It is not joy that is reflected in Desi’s eyes, it is hope. “But we can do tremendous things together, can we not?”
Malais’s eyes go wide as he registers what Desi is suggesting, those same eyes darting around and searching for an alternative as if it would appear on Joy’s face. “I don’t, I don’t know how- healing magic isn’t something I can-”
Joy goes to loop an arm around his friend pulling him close and away from the living corpse as Desi, reassures him feeling the buzzing thoughts run through the frightened mage’s head as clearly as they heard the dragons’ roars the whole night. Blood. Healing has so much blood. It’s not blood magic but it might as well be. It’s what those Vints used to use on me to keep me alive far longer than I had any right to be, just to try and kill me again the next day. I can’t. I can’t, I can’tIcan’tIcan’tIcanticanticanticant-
“You are not them, never compare yourself. You are healing to bring life, not harvest.” Desi shifts his aura to calm and reassuring, a change Malais notices if the slowing pace of his breathing is any indication. “You can do it, we can do it. I will be with you every step of the way.”
Shaky eyes flicker back to Desi as Malais nods, first slowly then as he gazes once more at the critically injured elf more confidently. This wasn’t about him, it was about them, a fact Malais remembered once he knew how to breathe again. The arms Desi had around him squeeze tighter as if feeling the change in attitude, the spirit offering another smile. “Remember the pathways, keep them open and clear. The intentions you put into the fade reflect more than you know.”
Malais couldn’t find it in him to smile back, instead patting Desi on the arm as the pair walked towards the injured elf, dread filling Malais’s shoes like water. “You sound like Salshira.”
“I will take that as a compliment, you remember the good times with her more than the bad.”
A huff is all Desi gets in response to that, Malais knowing the spirit could probably read his feelings better than he could articulate them right now anyways. It is not long before they are standing before the injured elf, whoever it is laying crumbled on their side in a mass of bleeding and burnt skin. Their injuries make the surrounding blight look palpable as Malais wonders how they can withstand the frigid air on their raw peeled back skin when he can hardly handle it now.
He just hoped the pain was too much and knocked them out, it’d be a small blessing at least.
Malais kneeled down hovering a hand over the burnt elf, a small healing spell flickering to life at his fingertips. He hasn’t practiced this type of magic in an Age and it shows, the injuries far too deep to respond to such shallow magic. Desi doesn’t frown but his smile tenses. “Time is not on our side here. Think back to the ball, yes? You have to-”
“I know, I know! Spirit channeling, connect to the fade, connect to you! I’m just- warming up?”
“Battlefields do not have that luxury, my friend.”
Eyes narrow knowing Desi is right, they can’t stall. The elf below the crouching pair sputters for air as if it is painful to breathe, twitching afterwards. Wait… no, that wasn’t from the elf, it was from under the elf. A furry head wiggled its way out from under the elf’s body, as if that’s what they were so protectively curled around the entire time. Malais’s features shift in horror as he recognizes the small ferret, even beyond the cream coat now stained pink. He can’t help but whisper into the night as if the creature could respond to its own name. “...Havoc?”
Desi looked at Malais with sad eyes, already resonating with his emotions before he could say them.
“I…I know who this elf is. I didn’t think I did but I do.” Malais tries to grab Sen’s hand only for them to loudly yell in pain from being touched, panicked Malais sets it back down on the ground unsure if that’s even better. “Sen, Sen listen to me. We’re going to help you. You’re going to get through this and you’re going to go home. Everyone gets to go home today!”
The only response Malais got was the sound of someone trying to not choke on their own spit.
The mage closed their eyes in a tight grimace, they weren’t close with Sen but that doesn’t mean he wants them to die such a horrible death. Their scream is still ringing in Malais’s ears, how much agony must the other elf be in for them to bellow such a haunting cry? He takes a deep breath to steady themselves, feeling magical pathways metaphorically click into place. Malais feels a hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know whose hand it is.
Sen doesn’t need to die, not if they can act.
What happened in the ballroom was literal party tricks compared to this as Desi’s magic fills Malais’s veins and arteries. Lava and elation filled every fiber of Malais’s being until he began to forget who he was and why they were doing this. Desi begins to pull back, feeling Malais lose his sense of self before a hand comes to hold Desi’s wrist at his shoulder. Malais looks up at his friend with eyes of fire and a voice catching its breath. “I’m fine. I told you I just needed a warm up. Aren’t you going to turn up the heat? I’m getting cold.”
Concern turns into a surprised laugh at the former Seer’s gall, it wasn’t genuine, they both knew that but they also both needed the deflection. “I can always turn up the heat!”
This was not a possession, this was something ancient from when spirits and mages were on the same side of the veil and collaborated willingly. A time Desi still remembers. Malais still had control over all of his limbs as he moved his hands over Sen. The former Seer focused intently, channeling both his magic and Desi’s until it was focused on a singular thought. Put them back how they should be. And like the sun focused through a lens, that intent quickly ignited. The small healing spell before that was barely a spark turned into a flash fire as large masses of skin began to regrow at once. Sen screamed and howled into the night from the healing process, not even Desi’s aura of reassurance able to make them forget the pain stabbing through every surface. At some point, they grabbed Malais’s hand pushing themselves against the mage; the Lord isn’t sure if it was a nonverbal plea to stop or to hurry up. He chose the latter to a choir of agony and writhing.
A sharp pain was felt in Malais’s thigh as he realized something was biting him, he looked down to see Havoc hysterical at Sen’s pain. Malais strained a smile through it, “I’m sorry, Havoc. I’m working as fast as I can.” Reaching forward through the cries, Malais grabbed the hands with a death grip on him and pulled Sen close. He hoped the burns were healed enough to make this less painful, but it was hard to tell with all the blood.
“Mala-” Desi began.
“I can still work! I, they need this-” Malais interrupts, proving his point as another burn heals with an incoherent howl from Sen. If Desi had any further objections, Malais didn’t know about them- he wasn’t the mind reader here.
As the healing continued bit by agonizing bit, the pair could eventually see Sen’s face. What had once been so disfigured and burned down to the cartilage was now mostly restored. Sen parroted their lips as if to talk, vocal cords raw from shrieking finding it hard to connect. “Ha-ha…s- Ha-”
Desi nodded knowingly, giving a comforting smile. “I can look for you.” Before Malais could ask what Desi meant it’s like his vision was split into two, one view holding Sen the other focused on some dragon? Huh? Malais’s metaphorical grip slipped, while his Seer teacher had always described to him how disorienting any complex magic with spirits can be; he's never experienced so much at the same time. His focus shifts to match Desi’s and Malais has to rip it back, Sen- remember? You have to remember them! Remember to put them back, all of them back, just like before! Everything has to be like before, this isn’t how Sen should be!. Another flash of magic, another bang of intent.
Malais looked down on his half of the view, even with his focus divided seeing something had gone wrong. The mage stumbles back, out of Desi’s conduit and away from Sen as he takes in the scene before him with widestruck eyes. Sen… They, Malais wanted to help Sen, fix them, save their life, yet here they lay on the cold stone every limb attached- including the extra ones Malais just added. Words rush out of Malais’s mouth as he scrambles back. “I didn’t- That was an accident you have to believe me- I would never on purpose- I didn’t-”
Moving slowly and exhausted from being on death’s door a moment ago, Sen moves their hand and watches the dried blood flake off of the new layer of skin. It’s soft with no callouses from their crossbow in sight. Sen tries to lift their head, finding it unnaturally heavy. That’s odd, they weren’t wearing armor- were they? The elf’s head is woozy but they don’t remember putting on a helmet before or after the dragon fire, they mostly remember darkspawn and screaming. The soft hand gingerly travels north to see what is pinning themselves down only for Sen to feel the sensation in two places as skin meets keratin. Despite how heavy their limbs felt, curiosity overwrote the near death experience as Sen trailed their hands up the curve. Horns? And why could they feel from the horns?
Sen finds it in himself to look over at the other elves, Malais who seems to be curling in on himself and the helpful stranger looking concerned between the two of them. They have to know. “...Wh-at did you do…?”
Malais wraps their arms around themselves tighter, the action causing the Lord to feel a chill from Sen’s blood soaking into their clothes. He looks down at the mess he’s made of himself and then up at the mess he’s made of Sen. The only magic Malais knows that’s capable of body mutilation like that is blood magic… did he somehow- without knowing? Is that even possible? Malais doesn’t think he did, but there being room for doubt sends the Lord’s lungs on fire as his eyes begin to sting. “I- I don’t know. Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Not willing to see how he’d make the situation worse, Malais stumbled onto his feet and ran across the battlements, not stopping as Desi called his name. The Lord didn’t care where his feet took him as long as it was anywhere but here, anywhere where he couldn’t hurt someone.
The battlefield seemed to stretch an eternity in the calm after the fight, or maybe it just felt that way because whenever Malais saw a puddle of red he instinctively took a turn away like a rabid dog scared of water. The elf was probably going in circles, scared of every blood drop he saw as if it was proof he was a blood mage. Malais’s mind couldn’t help but perseverate on what happened. It didn’t feel like blood magic, shouldn’t that feel different? (Although, would he truly know what that feels like?) It felt like every other time Malais has done spirit magic but far, far more intense: but how can he argue with the results? Sen… is alive but at the cost of being different than they were before. Extra limbs, none of their signature tattoos… Malais has never heard of a spirit who could do that, is it because it’s not spirit magic at all or is it because Salshira never taught him that before Malais left?
The arms soaked in Sen’s blood from the healing process drip it onto the snow in a macabre trail, assuring Malais can’t go back where he went and can only press forward. Should he… even go back? If there’s even a one percent chance it was blood magic his family and Polaris surely they’d hate-
“Malais?! Ma’ fenor! Where are you injured? What happened?”
The Lord looks up slowly, seeing a panicked Polaris already checking him for injuries. Oh, Polaris is okay. That’s good. That’s one good thing about this whole night, at least. Malais doesn’t know what he’d do if something happened to him as well.
It takes a moment for Malais to talk and when he does it’s a barely incoherent mumble as he can’t help but let his most recent worries fall from his lips. “...I- Polaris... I didn't mean to. I was just trying to help, I- I didn't mean to-"
He really didn’t mean to. He was trying to help. He’s different from the blood mages back in Tevinter, he swears. He isn’t even sure if it was really blood magic or-
As usual, Malais’s racing thoughts are cut off by a suffocating embrace from his partner. What’s different this time, is what soak’s Polaris’s jacket is not Malais’s tears but another elf’s gore.
This is Malais's POV of the events of Wiesshaupt, ft an appearance of @pandorazlost 's Polaris! Thank you for letting me borrow him
cw: Blood and fighting descriptions, death, progressive illness
Word count: 2,693
Malais had fought darkspawn before, find a ruin that goes deep enough occasionally one of the bastards will claw its way up confused and bumbling how it ended up in a treasure room instead of next to an Archdemon. Malais slit the throat of a hurlock in front of him and kicked it back, squinting at the four that instantaneously took its place. That's a lot of bastards, more than the Lord had ever seen in his life and Wiesshaupt was swarming with them. This place was practically synonymous with the Wardens, how could so much blight even get in here?
Malais wanted to ruminate more when one of the hurlocks charged at him with a garbled yell, swinging down where the elf's head used to be. The Lord pulled from his thoughts quickly fade-stepped to the side and grabbed the hurlocks metal armor, were he in a better mood or had he not done this 50 times today he might have made a quip. But as it was, Malais channeled lethal amounts of electricity through the hurlock's armor, willing it to bounce to the other darkspawn now charging his way. Malais looked up, hearing yelling and shrieks over the piles of blight and debris blocking the way. 4 dead, only a million darkspawn to go.
A pile of blight taller than Malais blocked the way between him and whoever was screaming. The fleshy pulsing mass didn’t look particularly climbable but the building it crashed into and reduced to rubble did. Malais jumped on a crate and prayed to whatever was listening (hopefully not the gods that caused this fucking mess) that the handholds he was leaping for would hold. Onto the awning Malais pulled himself up before it could crumble under his weight. The elf now on higher elevation ran across the roof before jumping off and onto the other side of the blight. The shrieking had stopped by now and there was no one to be seen in the courtyard but a mutilated corpse.
Poor fucker. That must have been who was screaming.
Malais looked away from the gruesome scene, the guilt gnawing at him for being too slow causing his grip on his dagger to loosen. That was his first mistake. His second was ever thinking he was alone in this hellscape.
Contrary to their name the Shrieks were deathly silent as they stalked Malais, that is until one pounced. An ear-piercing scream was Malais’s only warning as he was tackled to the ground from the side, piercing claws from the Shriek digging into his arm pinning him down. His dagger flew from his hand and clattered across the cobblestones, far from his reach. The Shriek unhinged its jaw and let out another hideous glass-shattering cry causing Malais to visibly cringe, both from the pain in his arm and now in his ears. He probably only had a few fractions of a second before that sputtering maw clamped down on his neck, inhuman strength crunching the bones as darkspawn gleefully mangle his corpse til it's unrecognizable like the disemboweled John Doe next to him.
No. Fuck that. This was not how he was going to die. Not now, not here. He can't give this mindless monster the satisfaction of crushing the marrow from his bones.
His story would not end here. Not after everything.
Malais's arms may have been pinned by claws but his legs weren't. He quickly tucked his legs in to bring them under the Shriek, kicking up into the darkspawn's torso with as much force as he could muster. The darkspawn lost its balance and grip momentarily as it was thrown skyward but a moment was all Malais needed to act on. He rolled to the side and out from under the Shriek, a painful process for the arm that had claws embedded in it- one that left him swearing profanities as more blood splattered the stone.
His head was pounding as the world was starting to spin around him but Malais looked up to get his bearings all the same. His dagger had sputtered about fifteen feet away if he could just get to his feet and grab it... The elf stood up on shakier legs than he had a moment ago hesitating for a moment to right himself as a second Shriek came out of the shadows to help hunt this unruly prey, standing right over Malais's dagger.
The elf stood up to his full height, not sure whether to clutch his arm or dizzying head as he cursed the life choices that brought him into this blighted hellhole. The Shriek that had previously crumpled to the ground after getting its ribs kicked in rumbled near Malais, giving the elf an idea. He stood between the darkspawn, staring down the cautious Shriek over his dagger as magical embers began to spark on his fingertips.
"Come and get it motherfucker!" Malais taunted, the flame in his hand glowing to fit his palm. It didn't need to be much bigger than that, he needed to conserve his energy. "Let's burn that face into something nicer to look at!" Malais tossed the small fire at the Shriek over his dagger purposefully missing his target but agitating the darkspawn and causing it to charge like a bull seeing red. This time however, Malais was ready for the leap and fade-stepped behind the darkspawn lunging for his throat with claws. The two Shrieks crashed into each other violently if the sounds they were making were anything to go by, Malais didn't turn around he scooped his dagger from the cobblestones and ran for the nearest building.
The Skrieks behind the Lord hissed as they realized their prey was escaping, Malais could hear their claws scraping against the stones as they clambered behind him yet he did not dare look back. His injured arm was not just bleeding, it was beginning to go numb. Malais was no medic but even he knew that was an omen of something bad, the elf grimaced as he booked up the stairs two at a time. Just look forward, keep looking for a way out- there's always one.
At the top of the stairs there was a door. Malais ran desperately for the doorknob, only to find it jammed. "Fuck- Fuck!" The elf looked back at his pursuers as he jangled the door, the darkspawn were nearly upon him, it seems his little evasion hadn't bought him as much time as he had hoped. Malais backed up a step and slammed his almost numbed shoulder into the door with his full body weight behind it causing the jammed lock to swing open and the elf to tumble through. The Shrieks having now gained on him followed him into the building, fights in small enclosed areas weren't Malais's specialty. He turned heel to face the Shrieks barreling his way- no more running. This would be tough, if not downright impossible with an injured arm but he would have to-
"Down!"
Well he wasn't going to argue with that.
Malais slid as an arrow expertly shot into one of the Shriek's heads, dropping it instantly. Capitalizing on the opportunity the mage quickly shot a ball of lighting towards the remaining darkspawn. The Shriek gurgled out one last death cry as it spasmed and fell to the ground, a nuisance no more. Both were finally, finally dead.
Malais turned to the voice of his magnanimous savior only to see a very familiar Warden lowering his bow. The relief on his features was plain to see at the sight of Polaris. It was so nice to see a real-life-not-a-darkspawn-person, especially one he knew even if they weren't particularly close. 'Oh I could kiss you again' the Lord thought as he attempted to stand up, that 'plan' quickly abandoned once he realized how dizzy he was. At some point Polaris had come next to him, rather than stay across the room rifling through that bag for whatever. Malais looked up at the Warden smiling but confused and trying to listen to Polaris over the pounding in his head. "Funny running into you here, dear Warden."
Polaris placed a hand on Malais's shoulder and ran their water rations over the bloody wound. The smaller elf hissed at the sensation of water seeping into the deeper tears of his wound where the numbing hadn't quite made it that far yet. “We seem to find each other whenever you seem to need some assistance.” Polaris said softly as they rendered first aid without being asked. Malais glanced the Warden up and down, confusion shifting into relief as Polaris improvised a tourniquet and field bandages from some cloth in his bag. Why were they doing this? Most people would have expected the mage to heal himself and not have bothered.
Malais looked down at his torn cloth bandages and mumbled, were Polaris not so close he probably wouldn't have heard it. “They just don’t stop coming, do they?”
“No, they don’t. Darkspawn hordes are like bugs; they keep showing up until you kill the one in charge of them.” Polaris said with the deathly finality only a Warden could be capable of. Malais's eyes went wide before darting away at the idea of an Archdemon reappearing so soon. He feels sick, he's actually felt sick and it must have shown on his face with the way Polaris is suddenly fussing over him and looking for other injuries amidst the bloodstains. “Malais, what is it?”
The Lord resisted the urge to put a hand to his dizzying head, if this was how Polaris was reacting to facial expressions he didn't need to give the Warden any more reason to worry and overreact. While keeping his symptoms under wraps, there was still something that scared him. Something he couldn't hide or bluff his way out of, even if he wanted to. Malais looked back at the Warden, the undertone of fear mixing with the exasperation sinking into his bones. “Did the darkspawn blight me? Am I blighted now?! That’s the last fucking thing I need.” Polaris nodded in understanding and rather than respond or comfort like a normal person placed his hand on Malais's newly bandaged wound.
The elf winced but bit his tongue for once in his life when he saw how focused Polaris was on.... something. Their brows were knit together as if straining to catch something faint. Perhaps the insanity of Wiesshaupt had driven the Warden mad just as it had blighted the Lord. What a pair they'd make, the insane Warden and world's most decorated ghoul. After a moment Polaris had seemingly recovered from whatever he was doing, looking visibly less tense afterwards.
“I can’t feel its pulse coming from you, Malais. There is no blight in you.” Polaris offers, as if that's a normal thing to say.
Malais lets out a shaky breath. "Thank fuck." They stood up flexing their wounded hand as they did so. The numbing was spreading to the fingertips but it didn't seem to stop Malais from moving them, if it wasn't blight what was it? Malais thought he knew what blood loss felt like.... Polaris gestured towards a doorway leading to new but equally ruined streets and with nothing better to do but endure Malais pressed onward. The streets had several people fighting darkspawn, from this vantage point all Malais could think was that his fellow elf was wrong. This didn't look like people fighting back a swarm, something you could exterminate, this looked like a tsunami of darkspawn threatening to drown everyone in its path and its own blood.
How could Malais do anything but jump in too?
He gives no warning to Polaris before he's off jumping into the streets below for better or for worse, for gold and for glory.
The tidal wave of darkspawn makes for easy targets as Malais tosses explosive spell after spell at the horde. Even when he feels control over his magic slipping a bit from exhaustion it hardly seems to matter, the hurlocks have the decency to combust all the same. Malais keeps his injured arm tucked close to his body, doing his best to ignore the spreading numbing feeling in his shoulder. He still had one hand to hold a dagger sharp enough to slit darkspawn throats, legs to run, and a mind with enough wherewithal to cast spells. Malais wouldn't be going down without a fight, even if that fight was one handed.
Malais turned in the chaos, seeing only a few straggler darkspawn on the library steps. One hurlock nocked an arrow that never got to fly before Malais's lighting electrocuted it. Another gurgled and screamed before it began charging down the library steps. Malais threw his dagger square into the darkspawn's eye as it yelled in agony and began clawing at the glittery hilt protruding from its face. The Lord ran up the steps to the hurlock and grabbed the hilt of his dagger twisting it deeper into the darkspawn's brain until the face clawing stopped. He dislodged his dagger in one smooth motion from the monster's skull by landing a solid kick on the hurlock's chest, sending it tumbling down the stairs.
He looked around the front steps which seemed clear for now but who knew how long that would last. Maybe a few minutes if they were lucky, less if they were realistic. Malais leaned against a pillar that held up this once grand library now crumbling into rubble and touched his face, that was beginning to go numb too. That wasn't good. He could feel himself getting slower and that meant being a liability... Malais looked up, searching for Polaris. He should have been right behind him- right? Where was he?
At the bottom of the stairs the Warden lay in a limp crumpled state, even from this distance Malais could tell that arms don't bend that way. The worst of it all was the pike impaling them to the steps, Polaris's corpse so fresh it was still dripping blood. How? Wha-? All the air was sucked out of the elf's lungs and he couldn't tell if he felt numb from whatever mystery ailment he had or shock.
He was right behind me. We just talked.
Malais continued to stare at Polaris's corpse, they weren't close but he didn't deserve that kind of death. No one does. Not even Wardens. Shock continued to grip the elf until an emissary attacked him from the doorway of the library, barely missing the small elf and cracking the pillar. Malais ducked and fade-stepped to dodge debris, he glowered at the emissary that attacked him, hand readjusting its grip on its dagger. Despite himself, Malais shot one look back at Polaris's corpse. There was a twinge of guilt but he knew there was nothing he could do for the Warden at this point, he had already failed him. Polaris never did get to paint those stars, did he?
Malais faced the emissary once more, cast a barrier on himself, and charged through the library doors leaving the Warden's corpse and the cacophony on the steps behind him.
After what felt like an eternity, Malais stumbled through the eluvian back to the Lighthouse. Like many others, he was worse for the wear. Those who could heal were already making triage tents, and those who could stand were either helping or talking about the mission together. Malais stumbled into the common area outside of the eluvian, his hand tracing alongside the wall for support the entire time. His legs felt weak like they would fall out from him any second now. He couldn't lift half of his face and the arm where he had been stabbed was now left not just numb but fully paralyzed.
Perhaps he should have screamed for a medic or made a scene but his head was swimming both in vertigo and in shock as Malais just slumped against a wall in the Lighthouse common area and closed his eyes. Malais fought so hard not to die in Wiesshaupt, at least it seems like he might get that wish granted.
I got tagged by @trage-deigh to do a rate my Rook!!! Thank you for tagging me I'm so excited to ramble about my favorite little guy he lives rent free in my head
Malais Laidir (he/they)
In game appearance and hc'ed appearance (done by my lovely friend @snugbugger 🫶)
Compassion: 6.5/10 Malais's compassion is sporadic, one moment he'll mercilessly tease someone he doesn't like over a sore subject the next he'll slip off a gold bracelet and toss it in a beggar's pan saying they were tired of that style anyways.
Bitterness: 10/10 especially if you cross them, don't ever expect to get back on their good side.
Happiness: 7/10 Malais has some PTSD from when he was younger in Tevinter, but he tries very very hard to not let that hamper him. They're not always successful...
Politeness: 3/10 Malais was raised by Purple!Hawke (before they got sent to the fade) and Isabela. They always have a quip on hand and aren't afraid of swearing like a real sailor.
Chivalry: 5/10 They have a habit of using endearments on everyone they meet (namely 'love' and 'doll', with 'treasure' being exclusive to Taash) depending on the situation he pulls out the endearment he sounds either quite charming or like an asshole.
Pride: 9/10 at the start of the game, 4/10 as he keeps gathering regrets and failing those he cares about.
Honesty: -10/10 Malais doesn't even know how to be honest with themselves, it isn't personal
Bravery: 9.5/10 After everything they've been through, few things truly scare Malais anymore. And if they do- he's not going down without a fucking fight.
Recklessness: ∞/10 the concept 'playing it safe' isn't in Malais's playbook. Their job before Datv was to explore possible haunted definitely full of death trap ruins- which he did for FUN!
Ambition: 6/10 His biggest ambition for the post game was finding a nice, not Antaam filled beach in Rivain to relax on with Taash. They already have gold, they stay in the game for personal glory and keeping loved ones safe.
Loyalty: 10000/10 If you've wormed your way into Malais's heart as a friend or not you're staying there forever. No takebacksies. The tricky part is getting in, but once you're there you're there.
Love: 7/10 Malais is very intense when it comes to romantic relationships as he centers his life around the other person. This is why he doesn't usually let himself have such relationships and is rather inexperienced in dating long term.
Sense of family: it's complicated/10 Malais's family was eventually separated in Tevinter when they were young so his memories of his birth family are fleeting, even if longing and love is still there. He considers Isabela his mom as her and Hawke saved him during the Rivaini rite of Annulment, but he doesn't call her mom. You may not know the relation considering the amount of grief they give each other.
Attractiveness: 10/10 They change their look often to match whatever is in style in Rivain. (also I'm not biased you're biased)
Agility: 12/10 Malais is a mage who specializes in using their magic to augment their ruin exploration abilities. TLDR? electric magic makes parkour jump farther
Sex Drive: 7.5/10 They might not have a ton of experience with long term relationships, but they're certainly not inexperienced here.
Thanks for reading!!! I want to tag my friends @voidling-prince @mysteriesandnightmares
