I got tagged by a bunch of people a bit ago, but I haven't written anything in a while - so there was no last line to post. But, rejoice, I've finally gotten back to the writing thing. Or well, it's more plotting and outlining, but there's something that counts. So you can have a 'lil treat.
thanks for the tag @biowaredisasterbisexual @bronzieinthedas @iamsuperconfused @bring-thelight
I hope I didn't miss anyone.
For a new round of last lines I'm (soft) taggin: @natsora @ohimjustabard @crackedskel @neves-trouble @mythals-whore @handsignals
Tagged: No one, but I saw @iamsuperconfused post with an open tag and wanted to share!
Tagging: @justskipit , @natsora, @crackedskel and anyone who wants to do it! Feel free to tag me back so I can admire your Rooks!
Warden Tel Laidir
For the record, Tel would hate this but she is a cutie patootie
Aya Montilyet
I haven't posted much about her yet, but the adopted daughter of Josephine Montilyet and S'vari Montilyet who ends up in the Veilguard through a series of extremely odd and unfortunate coincidences.
For the final day of @rookfest (thank you mods for hosting and being amazing), I give two offerings.
First, in the theme of dressing, an example of how Tel’s face paint changes over the course of the game. Tel wears quite a lot of paint both on her face and body for two reasons. First, it can be intimidating as hell to see this paint-covered Grey Warden charging down on you with a sword and shield in hand. Second and primarily, Tel does it to hide her features. The way Tel looks is something that has been used against her for a lot of her life. The way that her face is painted obscures the true shape and features of her face, it keeps her safe. As the story of Veilguard goes one, the amount of paint she uses lessens significantly, but never truly goes away.
Except of course for one person. And only one.
For my second offering, a fic on how Tel interacts with clothing that reminds her of her past. Too long for tumblr at 920 words, even with a cut, but check it out on Ao3
The Weight We Wear
Neve Gallus has asked for Warden Tel’s assistance in attending a masquerade ball in disguise to smoke out a venatori lead. Always eager to help Neve, Tel finds herself stuck at the very first step. Putting on a dress.
Rating: G but includes vague mentions of past abuse.
Read on Ao3
Thank you all participants and mods of Rookfest, it’s been lovely to see and learn more about everyone’s Rooks! And thank you for looking at my blorbo!
"If you aren't pissing someone off, you aren't fighting the right fight."
Mass Effect AU
Tel Ladir's home colony on Mindoir was attacked by Batarian slavers, with the colony all but wiped out except for the few "lucky" ones who were captured by the Batarians. Tel was eventually taken to Omega and sold to the highest bidder. Luck was finally on her side as she was freed by a small squad of retired Alliance soldiers. This squad, nicknamed "The Grey" due to the age of the founding members, served as vigilantes for the greater good, leading the resistance against the smugglers and scum that infested Omega. Recognizing Tel’s affinity for combat and her drive to try and make things better, she was quickly recruited in The Grey. The Grey are hunted down by the likes of Eclipse, Blue Suns, and Blood Pack with the cocky escapades of Tel drawing particular ire. Even so, Tel and The Grey never waver in their mission to bring the universe to a better place. No matter who it might piss off along the way, and how much trouble it makes.
For @rookfest Day Four: Alternate Universe, a fun noodle on who Tel would be in my other beloved bioware series. Just a brief idea for the moment, who knows what it will grow into!
Shout-out to Cyberpunk 2077's photo mode for helping make a Mass Effect-looking Tel!
Tagged by: @justskipit, thank you this seems very fun!
Tagging: With no obligations, @nevesserialwriter, @iamsuperconfused, anddd anyone who wants to share (tag me so I can see!)
Rules: post 5 random facts about your OC. It can be fun or tragic, spicy or not, short or long, with or without explanation, fascinating or mundane, your choice.
I'm going to go with Tel, my main Rook, and S'vari Lavellan, my canon Inquisitor.
Warden Tel Laidir
Tel loves animals, just absolutely adores them. If she had a chance to settle down and not be traveling all over the place, she would have a small menagerie in her house. She spends a lot of time with Assan when she can.
The name Tel is the elvhen word for “Not”. Her name was chosen by her mother as Tel was distinctly unwanted as a child and truly she was Not meant to be born. Tel has done a lot of work to reclaim her name from that negative root.
Tel used to use a two-handed great sword before she lost her eye. After that she re-trained to a sword and shield.
Tel has been through several different groups before settling with the Grey Wardens. She was an elf in the Denerim Alienage before the Fifth Blight, a Halla Keeper in training in a Dalish clan, a house slave and then a ship slave in Tevinter, and a Lord of Fortune before she made the decision to join the Grey Wardens. She kept the last name of the Lords of Fortune as a thanks of giving her the space to find herself.
Despite all of the tragedy in her life, Tel has a tendency to be snarky and quick-witted. She usually has a joke on standby and takes things as they come with a decidedly chipper attitude. Unless you really plumbed into her background, something Tel is decidedly guarded about, you wouldn’t really know the amount of loss and sorrow she has undergone.
Inquisitor S’vari Lavellan Montilyet
S’vari is much more of a summer elf, better suited to the warmer climates near the seaside. The freezing cold nature of Haven and Skyhold were hell for her, and she spent much of her time there bundled up or in front of a fire.
S’vari has lighting-shaped scars in several places on her body left over from where her storm magic went awry in the Winter Palace after Solas removed the anchor. They are pale enough that they usually can’t be seen unless she is in the right lighting. It is very apparent to the people that were also there on that horrible night such as Josephine and Cassandra
S’vari initially believed that Solas was just bullshitting her on the nature of the Evanuris, after all he had lied about most other things why would he tell the truth now? It took her a long time to realize that this one time he had actually spoken the truth. It made her all the more mad at him.
If S’vari had her druthers, she would spend the rest of her life being a stay-at-home mother for her and Josie’s children. But the world has further need of her, and she has a duty to fulfill. No matter how much she hates it.
When at home S’vari usually doesn’t use a prosthetic for her missing arm, unless there is something that she needs to do specifically. When she does end up needing to use a prosthetic, she vastly prefers to use a twin-hook replacement, rather than a fake hand, for its utility. She does have a very fancy fake hand that she uses for formal events/for public appearances but doesn’t find it terribly helpful for much more than looks.
I had an idea of what kind of tourney that the Veilguard would throw, an arm wrestling contest. Something that my Rook, Tel, would dominate at. Except for the actions of a certain detective. So I wrote a short fic about it for @rookfest (thank you as always for hosting mods!)
The fic is partially under the cut, but you can also read it here on Ao3
To The Victor
Neve proposed a friendly contest to her fellow Veilguard companions to help ease the stress of saving the world. As the contest comes to an end, Neve decides to rig the odds in her favor.
A thump of flesh meeting stone echoed through the library, followed by a silence, heavy with anticipation.
Finally a macabre hiss rang out, followed by the calm voice of Emmerich.
“Per Manfred, the victor is… Rook.”
Neve couldn’t help but crack a smile as Tel leapt up and let out a whoop of victory as Taash started to argue with Manfred who just responded with a series of hisses and clacking of his bones
The logical part of Neve hadn’t been entirely sure if an arm wrestling contest was really the wisest thing to do while the world was in such peril. They were all in some sort of battle at least twice a day now, having someone break an arm or sprain a wrist in a game would be foolish to say the least.
But every member of the team had been running themselves ragged. Tempers were starting to rise as the exhaustion and stress started to take a heavier and heavier toll. A friendly game tied with a physical challenge was exactly what everyone needed.
So Neve had proposed this tourney.
She had come up with the matches, round robin so everyone had an equal opportunity. Herself and Emmerich abstained, ready to mend any broken bones that may occur.
Her best decision had been to have Manfred serve as judge. Neve had given him the role out of pity at first, he was so completely put out when Emmerich forbade him from joining the contest. After all, arm wrestling had to be one of the simplest contests to judge.
Yet Manfred took a different twist on judging. In the eyes of Manfred, just because you got your opponent’s arm to the table did not mean you won. A factor that added a bit of chaotic fun to the tourney.
And now, after much ado, Tel was the ultimate winner of the tourney.
From the way Tel was strutting around, receiving congratulations from everyone, Neve just knew in her heart that she was going to be smug about this for weeks.
Tel would somehow manage to make that endearing, but an idea came to Neve. Something to take Tel off-guard a bit.
Neve cleared her throat, stepping forward.
“Y’know Trouble. I’ve watched you play and I’ve got your strategy figured out. I think I can beat you.”
Tel raised an eyebrow at her lover, a grin coming to her lips.
”Oh is that so? I’ve got no strategy Gallus, just muscle.” Tel flexed her bicep to emphasize her point. A sight that Neve always enjoyed, but not her objective for the moment.
“Well then you’ve got nothing to lose.” Neve shrugged. “Unless, of course, you’re scared?”
Tel’s eyes narrowed, exactly the reaction Neve was hoping for.
“I’ve got two gold on Neve.” Bellara crowed, a smirk on her face.
“Fine.” Tel grumbled, going back to sit on the library table and assuming the position.
Neve traipsed over as the betting took off in earnest. She took Tel’s hand in hers and looked over to Manfred who again took to his role as judge.
Tel held her hand gingerly, careful not to hurt Neve. Always sweet.
Manfred held up his gloved hand and let out a hiss, signifying the start.
As he did, Neve pulled herself forward and planted a kiss on Tel’s lips. As she did, Tel let out a muffled squeak of surprise. As Taash let out a wolf-whistle, Neve could see a blush spread over Tel’s cheeks, bright red.
Neve broke the kiss quickly, smirking at her lover. Before she firmly slammed Tel’s hand to the table.
Manfred let out a hiss of summary judgement.
“Neve wins.” Emmerich got out, clearly trying to stifle a chuckle as the rest of their friends broke into laughter.
Neve winked at Tel before getting up from the table. Tel didn’t say anything, eyes wide and cheeks still bright red.
Taash and Davrin started to heckle Tel relentlessly as Neve collected her share of the winnings from Bellara and headed back out to her study.
She didn’t get too terribly far, only to the steps of her office when strong hands grabbed her waist and turned her around. As expected.
Neve grinned at Tel, covering the hands on her waist with her own. Tel’s cheeks were still flushed, but there was a look in her eyes that Neve loved to see.
”You do know that’s cheating right? Doesn’t count as a true win.” Tel chastised playfully, pulling Neve closer to her.
“Me? Cheat?” Neve let out a mock noise of affront. “Never. But if you have a problem with how I won, I suggest you do something about it.”
Tel’s eyes darkened slightly at the challenge.
“Very well.”
Tel yanked her forward and picked Neve up by her hips firmly. As Neve wrapped her legs around Tel’s waist, Tel tilted her head up to kiss Neve hungrily.
Neve kissed her back as Tel carried her into Neve’s office and kicked the door shut behind them.
Neve indeed did pay for how she rigged the game in her favor. But it was a price she was happy to pay again and again.
I admittedly took an angsty turn on this prompt for @rookfest. Tel hates shopping. This fic, and the peek into Tel’s past, it provides illustrates why.
The fic is below and partially under a cut, but you can also read it here on Ao3
Yield
A peek into the past of Grey Warden Tel who would eventually become Rook.
A dalish slave accompanies her tevinter master as she goes shopping through Minrathous.
Tel had no idea that buildings could grow so high. The square sharply angled spires almost seemed to touch the sky, extending towards the city the floated overhead.
Magic filled the air here, Tel could practically feel it running over her skin. It was like nothing she had ever encountered before.
”Sarai, keep up!”
The lilting voice snapped her out of her awe, running to catch up to the side of her master’s daughter.
”Sorry, Mistress Carria.” She got out, keeping in step with the younger woman.
Carria chuckled, looking over at her with a fond grin.
”First time in a city like Minrathous right? Father said you lived in the wilderness before, this must seem like an impossibility to you and your people.”
A twinge ached through Tel’s heart at the mention of her clan. Or what had been her old clan.
When the slavers launched an attack on their settlement, Tel had been the first to see them and called out a warning. Her clan fled, disappearing back into the forest. Safe and sound.
Except for Tel. She hadn’t been fast enough and the Shem too quick. She had fought the best she could, but at twelve years old, she was simply too little to provide any real resistance. She screamed and screamed for her clan as they dragged her away in chains.
It wasn’t until the slave ship departed the shores of Fereldan that she truly understood that the rest of the clan abandoned her to her fate.
That there would be no rescue. That she was now and forever would be a slave.
No longer Tel, the dalish Halla herder. Just Sarai, the Tevinter slave.
“Careful!” Carria yanked Sarai out of the way of an incoming wagon. The momentum was enough to send both of the girls crashing to the ground, but Sarai managed to angle herself enough that Carria instead fell on her instead of directly into the mud.
Quickly Sarai helped Carria up, bowing her head in deference, hiding a grimace as filth dripped down the back of her dress.
”I’m sorry mistress, I’m not sure what’s come over me.”
Carria reached up to clasp a hand on her shoulder, a hand that Sarai instinctively flinched away from.
”Hey. It’s alright, Sarai. Truly. You’re safe here, with me.” Carria’s voice was soft, her words kind. Carria was a good enough person at least. A mage in training, the same age as Sarai. Sarai had been instructed to act as Carria’s personal assistant. Confidant, maid. Maybe even a friend. There were certainly worse masters to have.
“Come on, we must stop at this one book shop. It’s incredible, they actually have some flying books inside the store, so you have to be careful with the door.”
Carria took off through the city, Sarai sticking close to her side. Sarai ignored the mud that was cracking and drying on her shift, hoping it did not drop on Carria’s instead.
The bookstore was indeed magnificent, as was the dress shop, and the shoe shop.
By the end of the day, Sarai could barely manage to carry all of what Carria had bought, arms trembling with effort as they walked back through the streets, back to the hotel that the family had rented for the night.
As they reached the hotel, a loud crash of stone echoed across the road, proceeded by a shout of rage.
Sarai looked for the source, finding it.
Just on the other side of the street, it seemed that a slave had dropped his load of bricks. Sarai had seen laborers all over the city as they shopped, walking past with their slave collars clinking in tandem to Sarai’s.
A man dressed in Altus robes perched over the slave who was crouched in fear, screaming at him for his mistake. As the mage screamed, Sarai could see a strap of leather in his hands. His own belt, pulled from the robes all Altus mages wore, Sarai’s master included.
As Sarai watched, the master lifted his belt up and brought it down on the slave. Again and again.
As the slave’s cries of pain echoed across the courtyard, Sarai looked to Carria.
Carria simply glanced in the direction and shrugged, going into the hotel.
The slave had pointed ears. The same as Sarai. As the leather started to split his skin, she could even swear that she could see the delicate branched vallaslin of Mythal over his face, matching the set that decorated her own cheeks.
Tel couldn’t breathe.
”Sarai. Come on.”
Sarai closed her eyes, inhaled, and walked inside, following behind her mistress.
🙃 — A weird little habit they have
⚔️ — What would they fight for?
🥀 — A memory that still hurts
😨 — Their biggest fear
For Tel, For S'Vari, For Josie, For Neve. Your choice who gets what.
|| This is from the OC Ask Game: Still Accepting questions! ||
Thank you Nat!
🙃 — A weird little habit they have: I’m going to allot this one for my fave Josephine Montilyet. Josephine always trims and carves her own quills. From stripping the feathers off to carving the point. She likely goes through quills by the bucket-loads, but she feels like she’s the only one that can really get the nib done the exact way that she needs to write quickly and clearly. So she does them all herself. She uses a small knife that Leliana gifted her back during their time together in Val Royeaux that Josephine uses solely to carve the nibs. It wasn’t until the event of Inquisition that Josie realized that wasn’t at all why Leliana gifted her a knife.
⚔️ — What would they fight for?: For detective Neve Gallus! I honestly don’t think there is much that Neve wouldn’t fight for. She loves an underdog and a losing battle. In her heart of hearts, I think Neve is a deeply kind and empathetic person who tries desperately to hide that from everyone else because of how vulnerable that makes her. Doesn’t stop her from caring and fighting though. Until there’s nothing left of her, Neve will always fight for people who have no one else to fight for them.
😨 — Their biggest fear: This one’s for Warden Tel “Rook” Laidir. Tel is terrified of dying for something not worthwhile. She isn’t afraid of death, she joined the Wardens of her own free will, she knows that she’s on borrowed time. She feels like she’s been on borrowed time for her entire life, after all, she was the child who should have Not been. It’s in her very name. Tel has found a peace with that fact. But she wants, she needs her death to be for something. People around her have died, and for some reason she keeps surviving. It has to be for something, everything she’s lost, all that she’s endured, it must be for a reason. Please let it be for a reason.
🥀 — A memory that still hurts: Had to be for Inquisitor S’vari Lavellan Montilyet. This one is a big ole spoiler for the Dawn Will Come series, specifically the end of The Night is Long fic so I’m going to put it under a cut.
S’vari sees Josephine dead all of the time. The sight of her, the memory of that moment, of the light leaving Josephine’s eyes, her body going limp in S’vari’s arms, her life blood sluggishly pumping out of her body over S’vari’s false wedding dress. The entirety and enormity of that moment is painted on the back of her eyelids, it is a constant companion. Parts of her memory of that time while the two were kidnapped is cloudy, the edges and corners rounded by the veil of Tranquility. But that moment, when Josephine died in her arms on a dagger that was meant for S’vari, is sharp and viciously clear in her mind.
It doesn’t matter how long it has been, by the events of Veilguard it’s been almost a decade since that happened. S’vari still sees it all the time. It will never truly leave her. But it does make the life that S’vari snatched back all the sweeter. When the memory looms and doesn’t relent, S’vari thinks about how alive Josephine is. Their children, their life they sculpted for each other. And she can endure the memory for a bit longer.
