#morriwall

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Find the words...it’s WIPednesday!

Tagged by @genginger to find the words blink* and flash in my writing. Thanks for the tag, and consider this a tag right back if you want!

I had to dig much more than I thought I would to find any form of blink. Which is weird, right? Considering I mostly write close-up dialogue and characters really ought to be blinking at each other.

This is from one of the next few chapters of Kieran (I promise it’s not abandoned!), as Alistair is welcoming Kieran to the palace in Denerim (and the room he has ALWAYS kept for him in hopes that he might someday get a chance to visit...!!!). Without spoilering too much, Kieran is asking Alistair about the nature of his relationship with Morrigan...

“Maker’s breath! I’m not ready to have this conversation with you.”

“Oh, about sex? Mother already has.”

“Not just about…” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “...sex…but about sex with your mother!” he hissed.

Well, that certainly came out entirely wrong-sounding. He blinked in shock at himself, while Kieran looked completely unfazed.

“Anyway…” Alistair cleared his throat. “So this is your room…”

And flash...this one from my Morrigan/Blackwall fic...someone just up and left Skyhold without telling his Witch, who is currently prowling around in cat form looking for answers...:

Leliana recognizes her, of course. How she does it, no matter the form she takes, Morrigan will never know. As far as she can tell, it’s not magic. Just…intuition?

“Oh, there you are!” the Spymaster greets her as cheerily as ever, as though she’s been expecting her.

Morrigan hisses at her.

“I know it’s you. Don’t worry. We are alone. Well, except for the birds...”

Leliana’s ravens caw down at the large scruffy cat until she looks up with a threatening flash of her yellow eyes. They go silent as she licks her lips before returning her attention back to the letter unfurled across the Spymaster’s desk.

Who wants some words to find? Let’s do...spin and dirt (all syntactic and morphological forms welcome). Tagging, always with zero obligation, @blarrghe, @tea42, @realace, @noire-pandora, @funkypoacher, @musetta3, @paraparadigm, @serial-chillr, @pinkfadespirit, @gothkimmyschmidt, @convenientcoma, @ziskandra, and @cleverblackcat...consider this an all-purpose WIP Wednesday tag, too! Cuz it’s Wednesday. At least, I think it is...right?

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Last line(s)...

Tagged by @cleverblackcat and @blarrghe! 

Ok, so...I left my morriwall fic a BIG MESS and I’ve been working all week on streamlining/compiling/re-outlining it so I can take it back up after a very long unanticipated hiatus from writing/reading/daydreaming in general. I kinda just wanna skip to the epilogue...or maybe part two?

Anywho, this is one of the few things I’ve actually managed to ‘write’...don’t ask me for context...I don’t have it yet! I just...them...

“Don’t you cry, Witch...it’s not fair.”

She sniffs. “I’ll take whatever advantage I can, Warden.”

I’m only gonna tag a few people (instead of the number of words here) bc I’m out of the loop! @serial-chillr, @funkypoacher, @pinkfadespirit, @paraparadigm, @polymorphic-basket, @tea42, @realace, @sarsaparillia, @gothkimmyschmidt, and whoever else sees this and wants to play. Let me know if you’re still around and wanna be tagged or not!

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Let me get in on this, inappropriate laughter for Morriwall pls

Oh no...not these two dorks failing spectacularly at being duplicitous villains together...thank you for this! I actually feel the worst for Cullen here.

“Is she…?” Cullen murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, nodding toward the Witch of the Wilds who has sidled into the throne room just in time for Blackwall’s sentencing.

“Laughing.” Leliana nods solemnly, but there’s a slight twitch of amusement at the corner of her own mouth now, too. “Yes.”

“I thought they were…involved?”

“I believe they are. She is the one who ultimately convinced him to return to Skyhold with you instead of remaining in Orlais to be executed for his crimes.”

“What could she possibly find funny about this, then?”

“I don’t know, Commander.” Leliana turns to look at him. “You could ask her yourself…?”

Cullen grimaces at the thought of trying to strike up a conversation with the witch, and he tries to return his attention to the Inquisitor as they explain the terms of Blackwall’s punishment. He’s to see their mission through…to continue to aid them in defeating Corypheus. And then he’s to report to the Wardens at Weisshaupt and undergo the Joining, just as Blackwall — the real Blackwall — had intended. A fair judgment. More than fair, considering what they had to do to get the Orlesians to agree to release him into Cullen’s custody. And it would be a somber moment, a perfect demonstration of the Inquisitor’s merciful authority, but for the witch’s barely-muffled snickering.

Even Blackwall…er…Rainier, now, Cullen supposes…seems at least a little bit bothered by it. He takes a moment to glare at her before humbly acknowledging the Inquisitor’s terms, and she waves him off, putting her hand up to cover her face, at least, in order to hide her apparent amusement.

…

The Inquisitor excuses Blackwall or Thom or whoever he is now, and he makes a quick exit toward the stairs. He feels eager to…what? There’s not much for him to do, he supposes, now that he hasn’t got anymore lies to keep hidden or crimes to pretend he didn’t commit. He just has to wait. For the next order. Until he’s sent away to Weisshaupt. He’s heard it’s cold up in the mountains. Blackwall used to complain about having to go back there. Said he much preferred his time wandering around the lower continent recruiting pickpockets and petty thieves…and murderers, if you were to include him.

“Looks as though you’ll eventually get your wish to become a real Warden…” she says. She’s been waiting for him on the stairs, just as he’d hoped she might after that irreverent response to his doomed fate. He’s done pretending that his heart doesn’t still skip a beat now every time he sees or hears her.

So he grins up at her instead. “That what you want, Witch? Another one for your collection?”

“I already told you what I wanted. I offered to help you escape. I gave you an opportunity to disappear…to avoid all of this…nonsense.”

“But you knew I’d never accept that.”

“Of course I did.” She smiles down at him, a mix of fondness and condescension. “‘Tis your most glaring character fault…”

“So I guess this is it, then?” He takes another couple of tentative steps up toward her, and when she doesn’t move away, he leans in close, breathing her in, trying to hoard as much of her in his memories as he can fit for all those cold lonely nights in the mountains that await him.

“What are you talking about? Did you not hear the terms which you so readily agreed to? You’re stuck with this ridiculous Inquisition until Corypheus has been dealt with.”

“But you’re not. All this talk of running away and being free of obligation to lost causes…I figured you and Kieran would be long gone before I even returned. Unless, that is, you no longer consider the Inquisition a lost cause?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Morrigan steps back and looks at him like he’s an idiot. Impatient, as always, with his unwillingness to indulge her in letting the most important things go unsaid. “I have merely acquired some knowledge…that would be too useful not to use against the Elder One,” she tells him. “His dragon, more precisely.”

“Ah. I see…” He stares at her, searching her face for longer than she normally would have allowed. And when he sees her doing the same to him, he grins. “You decided to stick around because of me, huh?”

“Ha!” She laughs. Even louder and more brazen than usual. She’s overdoing it, giving herself away on purpose. “As if…”

“Afraid we’ll be needing a new safe word, then, m’lady.”

“I suppose you’re right…” She continues to look thoughtfully at him for another moment, and then a wicked smile creeps across her face. “How do you feel about ‘ghoul’s beard’?”

…

He’s laughing too now. Cullen happens upon them on his way back up to his office. It could be shock, he supposes, or relief that the Inquisitor has given him a chance to prove his loyalty and regain his honor by eventually joining the Wardens, if they’ll even have him. Or there’s always the possibility that they could be up to something. But subterfuge seems to be the furthest thing from their minds as they hardly even notice him until he’s right behind them on the stairs, clearing his throat, in hopes that they’ll let him pass without too much awkwardness.

Blackwall nods to him, nearly in tears from the laughter, and manages to mutter an apologetic “Commander…” as he steps to the side, while Morrigan merely raises an icy eyebrow at him.

The two of them really do make an odd pair, standing there giggling together like children. Though, Cullen supposes, he’s seen stranger bedfellows. At Kinloch, and definitely in the chaos that was his entire time in Kirkwall. He makes a mental note to station an extra guard near the stables in case Rainier tries to make a run for it, even though his gut tells him he’s not the type. But the witch…she’s always been a mystery he’s been happy to let the Spymaster deal with.

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Happy birthday you lovely person you!

And the prompt "Sugar and Spice" seems just perfect for your Morrigan/Blackwall pairing, which is one pairing we don't see very often!! Or any other pairing you might prefer, really, it's your birthday so you decide!

Have fun!!

Thank you thank you thank you @cleverblackcat! 

This one was fun, and I hope not too goofy. lol. These two can sometimes tend toward a little too much spice, so it was nice to give them a bit of silly/sweet too, and it's a direct follow-up to the other Morriwall prompt I wrote here for Blood Lotus, which canonically, has hallucinogenic properties, so...

Morrigan/Blackwall, Day 3 Sugar & Spice (and Molasses!) from @14daysdalovers​’ list of prompts!

“I think it's probably bedtime for Gobs of Giggles,” Bull announces, hoisting Sera up off the ground by her elbows just as she’s about to roll into the fire.

“Wheeee!” she exclaims. “Is this what it’s like for you, Morriwitch? He says you can change into things. Creepy birds, bats, probably…"

“Dragons, perhaps?” Morrigan smirks.

“Yeah!”

“And you believe him?”

“Well…of course!” Sera sputters. "Look at him!"

Morrigan leans back, eyeing Blackwall like they've only just met. "You shouldn't be so trusting of a man who hides so much of his face behind a beard..."

"Hey now!" Blackwall chuffs, reaching his hands greedily around her waist and pulling her into his lap so he can nuzzle it against her.

"Gross!" Sera laughs, kicking at the air beneath her feet.

“Let’s fly you to your tent," Bull says. "These two look like they might need a bit of time to themselves.”

Morrigan cranes her neck around to see that Blackwall is grinning at her like an absolute idiot.

"Do I want to know what’s on your mind?” she asks him.

“You look like you taste like molasses.”

"So the answer should have been 'no,' then." Morrigan shakes her head, smiling. “Still feeling the effects of the blood lotus, I see...”

“Nah. The scales are gone.” He lets one of his hands wander from her waist to her behind, grasping a handful of leather armor and the wool beneath it, mostly. “No tail, either.”

Morrigan laughs, a low husky chortle. “Pity…”

“Let me lick you,” he huffs into the back of her neck.

“Excuse me?”

“Just a little taste…?”

“Oh, Thom…” she sighs. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to beg for it this time. I wouldn’t want you to get the idea that I can be so easily swayed by your questionable charm after just a few sips of tea."

“My dearest lady witch…” He reaches for her hand and pulls it close to his lips. “May I?”

She tugs her hand away and stares coolly at him, but the illusion of indifference is spoiled by the reflection of the embers of the fire burning low and hot in her eyes. “I believe I told you to beg.”

“Morrigan…” he ducks his chin and looks imploringly up at her from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “Please?”

"Hmm…” She scoots away from him to hide her amusement, but he knows most of her tells by now — the way she raises the shoulder closest to him as she clears her throat is an invitation to play. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Blackwall slides off the log, looking a bit like molasses himself, and falls to his knees in front of her with an irreverent smirk.

“I need to taste you," he whines as he presses a kiss to the top of her hand. “I may very well die if you deny me this…” he says a bit louder as he presses another to the inside of her wrist. “I beg you to let me pry that dark, dusky sweetness out of you with my — “

Morrigan’s eyes go wide as his voice grows even louder and she reaches forward, covering his mouth with her hand. "’Tis enough!" she hisses as she falls forward right into his arms, trembling from her own stifled laughter.

Blackwall presses his tongue obscenely between her fingers.

"Augh!" She pulls her hand away. "Why must you be so...so…"

"Irresistible? Handsome?”

"I believe sloppy is the word I was searching for.”

Blackwall frowns, feigning disappointment. "And you don't taste anything like molasses…”

"I never said I did,” she snorts, but goes quiet when she sees the sudden mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"More like…" He leans forward suddenly and licks her cheek. "Charcoal. And..."

He smacks his lips together and Morrigan recoils from the sound so close to her ear and his searching tongue, but he keeps her close with both arms tightly around her now.

"If you lick me again, I swear to whatever gods you believe in I'll — “

She freezes as Blackwall sticks his tongue out and drags it to the tip of her nose. "Bog water! That's it!" he declares triumphantly.

Morrigan shoves at his chest, and he falls back against the ground with a grunt. She looms over him for just a moment, trying her best to look more formidable than amused, and lowers herself into a kiss when she fails at this. But it’s her tongue that does the exploring this time, aided by gravity and a more-than-willing partner.

"Well, you taste like a liar." She pushes herself up off of him to catch her breath. “And a fool," she concludes.

Blackwall bucks his hips up against her. "Your tent or mine, m’lady?"

"Neither…" Morrigan stands up and offers him her hand. “Come with me…my tea is finally starting to take effect, and I wish to find out what the stars taste like tonight.”

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oooooooooooooooh boyohboy. for the 14-Days-DA-Lovers-Thang, Blackwall/Morrigan (obviously, sorry) and with Blood Lotus. and also maybe if you want to Nate/Carver with Pride (or Envy). Also Anora/Zev (&Alistair) with A Favor? Only choose one, or more, if you want. sorry, I got greedy for your writing/characterizations/beautiful stuff oops.

You spoil me!!! Anyway, here's the first bit --- some Morriwall & Day 10 Blood Lotus (from @14daysdalovers) with friends! 

That evening, Morrigan marches right up to him at the campfire, where he sits with Bull and Sera. “Why is there a bowl of blood lotus blossoms sitting in my tent?” she demands.

Blackwall shrugs, trying not to give her the satisfaction of seeing him blush. Not while they have everyone else's attention, anyway. “Saw them when we were in the bog today, and they reminded me of you,” he mutters. Sera and Bull already know about them, but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing to be scolded for the impulsive romantic gesture.

“Are you aware of the herbal properties of that plant?"

“It's…pretty? And…er, capable of surviving in extreme conditions?”

"Mhm.“ Morrigan nods impatiently. "And 'tis often used to induce altered states of consciousness…also considered, by some, to be a powerful aphrodisiac.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“So…" Blackwall lowers his voice and raises his eyebrows. "Does it work?”

Sera snorts into her mug, and Bull grumbles a "Well played..." under his breath before quickly turning his attention to something that he's certain can't turn him into stone with just one nasty look.

The corner of Morrigan’s mouth twitches, and she gets a menacing glint in her eyes. “Well, that all depends on the quality of the plant and the preparation, my dear Warden…”

“And you probably know how to prepare it properly, eh, Witch?” He decides to play along, having given up on his own self-preservation long ago.

She glares at him, then glances back at the others who are doing a terrible job of pretending not to listen to their conversation. “Of course I do.”

“We should all give it a smoke, then. See what all this fuss is about.”

“Surely not…” Morrigan scoffs.

He knew if he called her on her bluff this time, in front of everyone else, that she’d fold. She is, beneath the arrogance and disdain, quite shy, after all.

“Ah. Right…” He gives her a wink. Just to let her know he’s onto her. “Probably wouldn’t be very wise, seeing as we’re at camp in the middle of hostile territory…”

“‘Tis far more effective if I steep the blossoms and make a tea.”

Blackwall’s eyebrows shoot back up. “Aye…?”

“Hey, whoah now,” Bull says, giving up all pretense of not-listening. “I don’t need to be seeing anything that’s not there.”

“No one is forcing you to partake, The Iron Bull. And besides, ‘tis probably best if at least one of us abstains.”

“I’ll have some!” Sera chimes in. “Can’t let old Beardy have all the fun just cuz he’s found himself a witch to do weird things with!”

“Very well.” Morrigan nods. “So that’s three of us, then? Or shall we extend the invitation to the entire encampment?”

She looks pointedly at Blackwall, who is beginning to realize that this is meant to be some kind of punishment for letting on about them to his friends.

He shakes his head. “Just us three. And Bull will keep us from running off buck-naked into the swamp chasing fairies, won’t you?”

“I make no guarantees.”

…

“I’m not feelin’ anything…” Sera mutters, taking another big gulp of her tea.

“Patience,” Morrigan tells her. “‘Tis not always such a sudden thing.”

But Blackwall is already feeling…something. He glances sheepishly over at Bull, who is watching him carefully. Too carefully. His horns are too long, and they suddenly remind him of the listening horns of the elderly noblewomen who used to request his company during formal military affairs.

“Alright there, buddy?”

“Yeah.” He turns toward Morrigan. “How do you know if it’s working?”

“You’ll know.” She smirks, and takes a sip of her own tea. “Or it may not do anything at all.”

Morrigan’s smirk seems to spread. Her lips curl up to her ears and her whole face looks like it might split in half.

“Stop looking at me like that!” he hisses at her.

“Like what?” She smiles wider.

“Like you’re about to eat me up.”

“What are you on about?” Sera asks, peering at Morrigan’s face. “She looks like her normal smug witchy self to me! Thought you liked that about her?”

“I do. When she’s not turning into a dragon!”

“A dragon, huh?” Bull finally musters up the courage to look directly at Morrigan, but shakes his head disappointedly.

Morrigan takes another slow drawn out slurp from her own cup, but keeps her eyes on Blackwall the entire time. “The Warden’s tea is just starting to take effect a little…prematurely.”

“Well, give it here, then! Yours must be stronger than mine!” Sera grabs Blackwall’s mug, nearly spilling it in the process, and shoves hers into his hands. But he barely acknowledges the swap. He’s too busy watching the smoke billowing out of Morrigan’s nostrils.

You are a genius, @funkypoacher. This is such a nice setup for another chapter of The Witch & The Warden. Sera just dissolves into giggles and nonsense. Bull puts her to bed like the good big brother that he is. Morrigan and Blackwall...probably end up running off naked into the woods? IDK...you decide.

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First Lines of Dialogue

Rules (if you want ‘em): Post the first spoken lines of the main characters (however you define that) of your WIP with no context whatsoever

Thanks for tagging me into this @wardenari, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, and @noire-pandora! Tagging forward to @lesetoilesfous, @pinkfadespirit, @blarrghe, @convenientcoma, @funkypoacher, and @juniper-tree. I got tagged by a few more of you for some WIP Wednesday stuff today, and I’m gonna tag you all into this one, too, @serial-chillr, @whatsherfacewrites, @curiousartemis, because it’s all still Fenders Dark Sprawl AU this and suburban wasteland that in this house right now, and I’m sure people are getting sick of reading about human wifi routers and Solas-breaking-the-Internet-via-the-Y2k-bug. 

So for this, I’m digging back through some other WIPs that I’ve been neglecting, and you can’t write parallel pairings without writing them side-by-side and giggling, okay!?

Anyway, here’s Morriwall (teehee...) and their first lines of dialogue in The Witch and the Warden:

“Well, well...what have we --”

Blackwall moves surprisingly fast, instinctively placing himself between the Inquisitor and the woman descending the stairs toward them. He may not have his shield, but his bulky stance serves as protection enough, should she dare to attempt some kind of attack.

“Care to dance, m’lady?” he grunts as he extends a hand up to her.

...and Morrigan and Alistair’s first lines in the same (sort of) scene from Kieran (their fic starts much earlier, so I’m totally cheating here for the sake of comparison):

Alistair slumped onto the upper balustrade with a sigh, staring listlessly at the gilded ballroom below.

“Well, well. What have we here?”

He spun around at the familiar sound of her voice, his face brighter than the glistening chandelier behind him. “Morrigan! I had hoped…” His face fell just as suddenly as it had come to life and he looked down apologetically at his feet. “Well, I don’t really know what I had hoped.”

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OTP(s) in GIFs...

My GIF game is weak, but @serial-chillr tagged me in this and I've spent all morning scrolling through GIFs to bring you a selection that best captures these relationships...

Morrigan/Blackwall (in The Witch & The Warden) (eating bamboo is like whittling, right? and pandas are fake bears, sooo...)

Morrigan/Alistair (in Kieran)

Fenris/Hawke (pre-fenhanders in Lost & Found)

Fenris/Anders (eventually in Lost & Found)

And for eventual Fenris/Hawke/Anders...my general go-to polyshipping GIF

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WIP-Welp! Wednesday

Tagged forward or backward recently by @blarrghe, @hawkeish, @noire-pandora, @parera-zuul-jar, and @musetta3! Thank you all, and consider yourselves tagged back for the next round.  Adding @serial-chillr, @funkypoacher, @zuendwinkel, @pinkfadespirit, @factorykat, @hollyand-writes, @gothkimmyschmidt, and anyone else who has something they wanna share today!

I thought this next chapter of The Witch & The Warden was going to be polished up and published this weekend, but THAT didn’t happen, so here’s the bit of it that I think is done:

Blackwall nods a silent farewell to Bull, and then he finds himself alone at the bar. He takes a deep breath. So far, he’s seen no sign of the Witch since they returned from the Storm Coast. It’s possible she’s left the fortress, disappeared to go pursue other interests and unsuspecting dance partners. Good, he thinks, even as an unwelcome hint of regret at their last parting wedges itself somewhere inside of him.

He slides a hand inside his pocket and runs a thumb over the metal relief of the Warden-Constable’s badge. He’s never been one to keep mementos. Rituals, sure -- the flowers for Liddy, the particular way he removes and cleans his armor and sword just so every night, this whole...Warden charade. There’s meaning to be found in doing things and doing them right. But he’s never really understood the sentimentality some people place in objects or tokens. He didn’t really have a choice, though, when the Inquisitor found the badge and handed it to him. “Your badge!” they’d said and he stammered out some kind of response and pretended to be grateful.

But it’s been four days, and for some reason, he’s held onto it. And he can’t seem to stop touching it in spite of the fact that it feels like it is burning a hole straight through him. Warden Gordon Blackwall...he died there on the Storm Coast. The lucky bastard. It should’ve been him that died, but Blackwall, the idiot, had thought he’d seen something worth sacrificing himself for in him. Why should one man’s death have changed him when so many others before had only left him...numb?

He looks up to see Sera and Dagna finally heading upstairs, together, in a fit of giggles. Sera gives him a double thumbs-up and a wink as Dagna blushes behind her. Good for them. They deserve some fun. But him? He just sits there, staring into his beer, fondling the badge, stewing in his self-loathing as the rest of the tavern empties for the night.

"’Tis not surprising that I would find you here…”

He clenches his fist around the badge and the sharp corners cut into his palm. He knows her voice too well. It haunts his dreams, after all. A better man would call them nightmares, but...well. There it is.