Jan 23, 2020
ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒˢᵉ ᵈᶦˢᶜᵒᵛᵉʳˢ ˢʰᵉ ᶦˢ ᵃⁿ ᶦⁿˢᵗʳᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷᵃʳ
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Belarus
seen from China
seen from Romania
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Belarus
seen from Morocco
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Austria
seen from Germany
seen from United States
ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒˢᵉ ᵈᶦˢᶜᵒᵛᵉʳˢ ˢʰᵉ ᶦˢ ᵃⁿ ᶦⁿˢᵗʳᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷᵃʳ
M E D I A T O R
She’s beauty, she’s grace, she’ll put you in your place!
Moodboard Requests Are Now Open!
“The Viscount’s daughter: a bright, cheerful young woman who, by all accounts, was even more remarkable than her father.”
More Nadia this morning! I’m dying for her ok
Moodboard Requests Are Open!
R A C O N T E U R
If Nadia was a DnD character she’d be a bard and that’s just facts.
Moodboard Requests Are Now Open!
Not to be dramatic or anything but like. Sim Gaten??? BA B EY. (also, Fen came over to visit and was traumatized!~)
Nadia Tethras
Main story: The firstborn and only daughter of Viscount Tethras and his Viscountess, the Lady Inquisitor Velahris Lavellan, Nadia was born several months after her mother reunited with Solas and disbanded the Inquisition. She grew up alongside her two troublemaking twin brothers, and quickly learned how to lie better than her father ever could. As she grew older, she became a witty, charming young woman with a passion for debating philosophy and politics. She’d attended Merchant’s Guild meetings in her father’s stead since she was twelve, and accompanied her parents to countless banquets and balls - it was no wonder she was accomplished in the art. Once she was old enough, her mother called in a favor with the Inquisition’s former Ambassador, which allowed Nadia to represent Kirkwall’s interests at the Orlesian court. While she was there, she became known as the Flower of the Free Marches, a remarkable player of the Game and deadly if crossed. She enjoys a comfortable position as Ambassador of Kirkwall for the time being.
Face Claim: Holliday Grainger as Lucrezia Borgia, The Borgias
Basics
Race: Dwarf, Elf-Blooded
Age: Born 28 Drakonis, 9:45 Dragon
Gender: Female
Profession: Ambassador of Kirkwall to the Imperial Court
Sexuality: Straight
Family: Parents Varric and Velahris Tethras(née Lavellan) - Brothers Gaten and Garrett - Uncles Silvhen and Ethelan Lavellan.
Physical Appearance
Weight: 100lbs
Height: 5′
Body Build: Uncommonly tall and slender for a dwarf. Ears just barely pointed.
Eye Color: Golden-brown
Hair Color: Blonde, with hints of copper throughout.
Skin Tone: Pale, warm-toned and freckled
Favorites
Colors: Crimson, white, pink, blue, purple. Anything bright and vibrant!
Smells: Cooling cookies/pies, elfroot, expensive perfume
Food: Wine-soaked bread dipped in honey and slathered in halla butter. Her mother’s comfort food.
Fruit: Peaches
Drinks: Warm milk, spiced teas
Alcoholic Drinks: Ale from the Hanged Man - A little comfort from home.
Hobbies: The Game, kicking ass at Wicked Grace, building her own trading fleet under Josephine’s guidance.
Traits
Extremely Skilled At: Diplomacy, Lying, Manipulation
Extremely Unskilled At: Brute Force, not being a total romantic
Positive Personality Traits: Intelligent, Frugal, Hilarious
Negative Personality Traits: Has a temper, tends to be sarcastic
Legacy
Varric drank in the quiet of his mansion like a well-deserved glass of whiskey. Vel had labored for a few hours in the early evening, alone in her chambers, not letting anyone near save the midwife. He’d brought a chair up to sit next to the door, head in his hands, listening to his dainty, sweet wife cursing like a sailor in common and elven, as if she didn’t have enough words to properly describe the feeling.
As the pains became more severe and her labor drew into the night, cursing turned to wailing, and then screaming. He’d stood up then, pacing outside the door, ready to run in at a moment’s notice. And then it came - a cry for help. A pitiful keening sound, broken syllables of his name.
Varric nearly broke the damned door down. He was seconds away from throwing himself at it when the midwife unlocked it from the other side, allowing him in. He hardly noticed the mess, running straight to the bedside where a chair had been prepared for him. He sat, immediately grabbing a cool wet cloth from the bedside table and wiping the sweat off her brow.
“Varric?” Her voice was hoarse and tinged with fear. Her eyes were wide, jaw clenched. He’d never seen her in such a state before, and it worried him.
“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.” Varric coos, mumbling mismatched lines of a poem into her ear before the next pain.
“Won’t be long now, my lady. I can see the top of baby’s head - little one’s got a lovely head of hair!” The midwife chuckled. She was an older elven woman, who’d taken care of Vel throughout her pregnancy. She’d also correctly guessed when the baby would come, much to Varric’s, and the entire betting population of Kirkwall’s, dismay.
“What do you think, Clover? Ginger, maybe? Last chance to bet on it.” Varric strokes her sweat-soaked red hair, wondering what color the baby’s could be.
Vel groaned, long and low, panting and whining until she sucked in a breath, letting out a curt laugh.
“Typical Varric - making bets while his wife is bringing his child into the world.” Vel offers a tight lipped smile before returning to her focus to pushing.
The world seemed to slow around them for the next few minutes, and as he remembers those moments frozen in time, he smiles. Vel, growling from somewhere deep in her body, crying out as the midwife tells her to breathe, to keep pushing. Her hand gripping his arm, riding out the wave of pain. Then, in an instant, all goes quiet. A loud, angry cry rings out like a bell, piercing the silence. Varric can feel tears prick his eyes, leaning over to try and catch a glimpse of his child before the midwife whisks them away. He didn’t manage to see - his vision cloudy. He turns his focus to Vel, kissing her on the forehead.
“You hear that cry, Clover? Kid’s gonna be a talker like me, I just know it.” Varric cranes his head over, trying to catch a glimpse of the baby. The midwife was washing them with a warm cloth as they screamed.
“That’s comforting. Two blabbermouths in one house? Maker, what will I ever do?” Vel laughs weakly, reaching up to ruffle Varric’s hair.
The midwife, swift as ever, dropped the squirming bundle in Varric’s lap as she cleaned Vel up. Hesitantly, he brought his hand up to squeeze the tiny cheek of his newborn. The little one was bright pink and precious, with the smallest nose he’d ever seen and big, barely open eyes. He pulled back the swaddle to reveal a perfectly round head covered in fine reddish-brown hair, and ears with a barely visible point to them. He couldn’t believe this child was his.
“What is it?” Vel asks meekly as Varric rests the baby in the crook of her elbow, helping her to hold them correctly.
“A daughter.” The midwife smiles from ear to ear. She’d bet on that one, too.
Varric couldn’t have stopped the tears even if he wanted to.
----------
The quiet was comfortable. Varric reclined in the bed, Vel’s head resting on his chest, their little girl sleeping soundly in her cot beside the bed.
“What should we name her, then?” Vel asks, lifting her head up to meet his eyes.
“Oh. I’m not sure. Strong dwarven name, maybe?” Varric mutters. He knew Vel didn’t want to choose elven names, so he thought he’d make it a little easier for her.
“And what would those be? Varric Junior, I suppose?” Vel chuckles quietly, careful not to wake the baby.
“Of course not, that would be ridiculous. Not for a girl, at least. How about Anika?” Varric suggests.
“She doesn’t look like an Anika.” Vel concludes, after leaning over and watching the baby for a few seconds.
“You’re right, she doesn’t. What about... Daria?” Varric tries, and fails, to think of more names. He draws a blank, just saying what pops into his head.
“Absolutely not. Dorian would think we named her after him.” Vel raises her eyebrows at her husband. “He would be so pleased with himself. Creators, Varric, save me from that misery!”
“True, true. I feel like we should have thought of this earlier. We did have a few months, after all...” Varric stifles a laugh, thinking of all the unfortunately named dwarven girls he’s encountered. He won’t make the same mistake with his daughter.
“Probably. But...” Vel stops, as if she’d suddenly had an epiphany. “What do you think of Nadia?”
“It’s... Actually, it’s lovely. What do you think, kid? Do you like that? Nadia?” Varric draws out the syllables of the name, cooing at her. She’d just woken up, and was slowly opening her eyes. She had her little fist wrapped around Varric’s pinky finger, and he marveled at her strong grip. Suddenly, without warning, she made a face - later attributed to passing gas, but it looked distinctly like a smile.
“She loves it, Clover. Smiled and everything. Nadia Tethras it is, then!”
“Are you gonna give her a nickname too, vhenan?” Vel asks, curling up against him and cupping Nadia’s tiny face in her hand. Varric can hardly believe his luck. The moonlight shines through the panes of the bedroom windows, dappling spots of soft white light on Nadia’s forehead.
“I think... Starlight. For now, at least.” Varric considers it for a moment, then reveals his choice to Vel. She nods in approval, kissing him gently before she begins to drift off alongside him.
So this is what it’s like...
H E I R E S S
Nadia is super soft and feminine and the antithesis of every single one of my other female OCs. She’s so precious I can’t
Fen - Garrett - Gaten -