#misyl lavellan

[powernappin]

two of my inquisitors ❤️💜

excited to have them fight for custody of my first da:v world state...

[oxygenforthewicked]

Mirror Image

Rating: General Audiences Pairing: F!Lavellan/Josephine Montilyet Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 4,063

Summary: Misyl Lavellan is on the hunt for an assassin. Josephine Montilyet is fending off suitors. But with the threat of the Dread Wolf worsening each day, Misyl is sent a gift from an old friend - and gets a little bit more than what she bargained for.

(Misyl Lavellan belongs to the lovely @hekaerges)

Read on AO3

Excerpt:

The world was never quiet in Antiva City. If not the bustle and din of the market or trade ships offloading their cargo, it was the Rialto Bay itself, the rhythm of the waves washing over the shore like a heartbeat.  

But it was quiet that night. An otherworldly quiet that Misyl Lavellan might have been used to, given her dealings with the dead. 

She sat in the study of the villa where she had been living with Josephine for months, now, watching the silver moonlight ripple over the waves lapping at the coast. It had been over two years since the Exalted Council, and some months since Misyl had left Kirkwall to be with Josephine. She still wasn't quite used to the Antivan heat, but it was quiet here, and she had the space to grow herbs and focus on the task at hand; stopping the end of the world.

Again. 

The small yellow flame flickered over the wick of her candle, and a shiver ran up her spine.

“Something is wrong,” she said to herself, her voice no louder than a murmur. 

And yet, it broke the silence like the shattering of glass. 

She stood up from the desk, her gaze landing on the door that had been left slightly ajar. Making a mental note of the dagger at her hip and the curling magic at her fingertips, she walked toward the door and opened it, the dark corridor before her opening wide in greeting. 

Beyond the corridor and down the stairwell, candles were lit, and the sound of hushed voices drifted up from the foyer below. Her brows drew together in a frown. It was much too late for visitors at this hour. 

She stepped lightly toward the stairs and descended into the room below, where Josephine was speaking with some messenger. Behind them rested a large object leaning against the wall, covered in a thin, white cloth. 

The hum of magic from it was familiar, and it pressed against her skin like the air of an Antivan summer. 

“Misyl,” Josephine said, pulling Misyl’s attention away from the artifact. 

“What is this?” Misyl asked as she stepped closer. 

The messenger eyed the former Inquisitor warily, but inclined his head as he offered her only a note before he left without a word. 

“He would not tell me who it came from,” Josephine stated. “Only that he was to give the note to you and you alone.” 

Misyl opened the note and peered down at the contents. 

Lady Inquisitor,

It is high time you had your own. We know not what yet awaits us on the horizon, but I suspect you will have need of it soon. 

Give the Lady Ambassador my best,

- M  

[thisfragilesky]

tired elf man would like for this all to be over soon.

have decided mahanon just has a variant of june’s vallaslin bc i can’t be bothered ot make it 100% accurate and also i like the ink curling over the ear. looks neat. and misyl’s tear-drop dots under her eyes are ideal. might update mahanon’s to match....

they’re both trans,.,,, naybe. nehna was the name given by her uhhh other father but she goes by misyl. 

[electriciandragon]

Vallaslin, Part One

Misyl does not wait to make her choice. She chooses the one that fits. The one that feels right, above all the other choices.

Misyl has faced challenge only outmatched by more challenges. Misyl is not one who hesitates. She is not weak, and she is not stupid.

Except, days before, she’s made the biggest mistake in her life. She’s made a horrible, horrible choice, and now, today, they are giving her a vallaslin which she is not even old enough to have. It is all wrong. It does not fit. Still, she does not flinch. She doesn’t wonder.

(She does wonder. A lot. She doesn’t speak of it.)

Fifteen, and she looks in a mirror that morning. She looks at the scars that mar her face now, how they will share the space on her skin. She traces lines that she knows so well onto her face, wondering how they will look when they’re finally there.

The vallaslin will have to share a lot of space with other things that already mark her face. Her freckles, her scars, the permanent (or, what feels like permanent) anger that spoils her face, according to her mother. The vallaslin will be welcome among the other things, but she doesn’t know if it will ever feel like it belongs there.

Misyl is strength compounded by more strength. She is hurt brought together by strings of more hurt.

The symbol of Elgar'nan is etched onto her face. Her skin screams during the process, but her whole body remains still. She is prepared. She has always been prepared. No flinching.

It turns out while it overpowers most of her face, it doesn’t manage to cover the scars. Those are all on the right of her face, and the colors, the dark, sea-green that she’s chosen, only takes the left half. One of the lines, which is shaped like a stem with thorns covering it, manages to cross with the deeper scar on her cheek.

The creator of the world, the god who represents vengeance, is the one she chooses to represent her. She thinks it is the most fitting thing she’s ever done.

Later, the keeper will tell her how clan Lavellan is in need of skilled hunters, and their clan is in need of mages. There will be a trade, and Misyl will be trained better there.

Misyl takes a greatsword and a letter from her mother, alongside her armor and her pride. She says only a few goodbyes.

She’s chosen The World. She’s chosen Vengeance, but she will never receive it. 

i actually wrote this angsty bullshit i’m so fuckin mad at myself. don’t take this seriously my writing is shit and misyl is an angsty teenager who got two other angsty teens killed.

anyway i think i’m gonna do less angsty bullshit with the same theme for my other dalish ocs, basically writing about why they got their vallaslin and shit.

and if ya don’t remember misyl she’s a member of the bad parent club, mother of alphys and aleteha. this is younger, angstier her.

hope ya enjoyed my bs writing