#thedaexchange

[rooktacular]

Aaaaaand she’s done! Here’s a Merrill plushie for @theobsidianorder through @thedaexchange! I hope you like her! <333

[rooktacular]

She’s allllllmost done. Gotta do up the pleather bits and then sew her head on, but that’ll happen tomorrow. I’ve got an appointment in the morning. D:

@thedaexchange gift (progress) for @theobsidianorder (not sure why it’s not tagging...)

Obviously nicer photos when she’s completed.

[twfdafa]

@mellostopheles @thedaexchange

I imagine there’s always an extra dose of chaos around holidays in Skyhold once these two start exchanging gifts.  Probably not always explosives, but certainly often enough to make people nervous.  (Sometimes things that explode unintentionally.) 

Also, Sera has the best room in the Keep.

[junibi]

"Do you know, this wasn't what I was expecting when I decided not to kill the assassin."

Varric grinned over his cards at Hawke, who was smiling in bemusement at the two elves across from her. "No? Expecting a lot more gore? Kirkwall is finally getting to you."

Merrill giggled. Isabela, trying to peek at Anders' cards, straightened up to raise her brows at the handsome blond assassin, who was murmuring quietly about something apparently very amusing. Zevran was clearly enjoying himself.

Merrill, they realized, was too.

Zevran leaned his head on a hand. This had an added benefit of forcing his eyes to look upon the recipient from under his lashes; Merrill beamed sunnily. "Ah, keria, please. Tell me of your favorite."

"Oh!" She clapped her hands. "Well, everybody loves Mythal. She was like--like a mix of Hawke and Isabela, all confidence and love. She was responsible, too..."

Hawke and Isabela exchanged looks, full of confidence and love. Nobody questioned Merrill's tastes in men: she could take care of herself, and if she wanted help she knew she could count on her friends.

She continued talking about Dalish culture throughout the evening. Absolutely no one was surprised when Zevran showed up the day after, or the day after that. 

Eventually, talk shifted from Dalish culture to Kirkwall politics to the elves at the Alienage to places they had or wanted to visit. Eventually, Merrill’s slim fingers found their way into Zevran's hair and formed little braids he never took out. Eventually, he began tracing her tattoos with a gentle finger. She always let him.

"Are you planning on going home?" Ferris asked three weeks later, voice drier than his drink. "At all?"

Zevran grinned, unoffended. "My home, I am finding, is another person."

Merrill smiles, and laughs, and absolutely no one is surprised when the rest of their lunch is eaten one handed.

-

AN: So @vaderslegacy I can’t tag you but I hope I fulfilled your request!! This was supposed to be posted yesterday but then I was like, “Banner. It needs a banner.”

*Keria is supposed to be Antivan for the Spanish querida 

[rooktacular]

I want to actually scan this and clean it up but I don’t have a scanner so that’s going to have to wait until...I either throw it at someone with a scanner, or bring it to school Tuesday. But since it’s late enough, I figured I’d upload the photo of the semi-completed image now~ (And the pre-darkened sketch. Because I was worried I’d completely mess this up.)

It’s my @thedaexchange gift for @pardalia! Some spooky Lavellan eyes. I hope you like it~

(I’ll prob. send a message/tag when the scanned/cleaned up version is uploaded, but here we are now!)

[crab-the-shrimpaler]

Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

My gift to @perpetuallybefuddled for the @thedaexchange​. Halloween isn’t celebrated in Ferelden, but that doesn’t mean that things don’t occasionally get spooky around camp...especially when Zevran is near a pot. 

Kerrig had learned to love that earthy stench of the Fereldan winter. The rotting leaves frozen in muddy peaks stuffed with bootmarks and hibernating animals. The cold burned the inside of his nose, but not as much as the acrid smoke wafting out from behind Zevran’s tent.

 Kerrig stood by Bodhan’s wagon at the opposite side of their camp, juggling a new set of daggers in curious (and vaguely appalled) hands. Lelianna, Sten, Allistair and all the rest had cautiously withdrawn to their tents to escape the smell. 

Zevran’s potion brewing had never been much of a problem. In fact, his tinctures had been quite a boon in past battles: insidious poisons taking down man and beast alike. This stench was altogether different. It crawled to the back of Kerrig’s throat, made his hair stand up.  Altogether it roughly smelled like a halla pen doused in Darkspawn innards. Swallowing his urge to express his disgust with vomit, Kerrig approached Zevran behind the tent, his noise curled tightly in his tan face.  He stood quietly, watching Zevran hunched over a pot and a small fire, the smoke wafting over his face and through his hair. He wondered many things in that moment.  How does he survive that smell? 

Is this toxic? Will he fall ill?

How could I be so lucky?

Will we survive?

Kerrig’s hand idly pulled at the gold earring glinting in his ear, staring at his beloved with quiet eyes. Zevran’s back finally straightened, his precious eyes turning to the warden.  He smiled, and Kerrig couldn’t help but do the same.  “Ah, my dear warden. Come see what I’ve made.”

“Zevran--”

“Try to ignore the smell. I like to pretend I’m on the docks of Antiva, rather than slaving over a hot pot in the middle of a forsaken wasteland of ice and devils.” 

His grin was contagious enough that Kerrig moved to his side, looking down into the pot. It contained in it a swirling vortex of light and beauty. The smell seemed diminished by the blue and golden light, like the twinkling of kind spirits in the fade. Kerrig clutched his earring tighter, his arm wrapping around Zevran.  “What is this?”

“This is...Ah...This is...” Zevran cleared his throat. “This is what my heart is like when I see you.” Zevran took Kerrig’s hands in his. “This is what it is like to be with you. This bright, this beautiful.”

“This rancid?” Kerrig joked, raising an eyebrow.  Zevran let out his hearty bark of a laugh, shaking his head. “Yes well, only when you act like that.”

[paragadesluster]

DA Gift Exchange - Happy Halloween

This is for @junkipii (it wont link for some reason) but I am your DA gift exchange person for Halloween, I’m sorry it’s late but I hope you like it!

Growing up as a Trevelyan had its perks. Trevelyan’s were well respected, well connected and well off (the most important part her mother had always insisted). Because of this holidays in her home were always considered too unimportant compared to a trade deal or a social gathering for her parents, and as such when Hallow’s Eve rolled around in Skyhold it seemed Valerie Trevelyan was the only one who didn’t notice.

In fact it wasn’t until she literally tripped over a pumpkin left outside her door (Sera’s work no doubt) that she realized what time of year it was. She just hadn’t understood exactly how intensely Hallow’s Eve was taken here.

As she strolled into the main hall she was overwhelmed by the intense smell of pumpkin pie and cinnamon that invited her to the breakfast tables where the cooks had laid out small pumpkin tartlets and an assortment of other desserts.

“Is there something the matter Inquisitor?” Commander Cullen voiced from behind her, Valerie turned on her heel almost slamming into the Commander surprised she felt her face heating up as she spoke.

“N-no. No of course not, I was just- just- taking in the atmosphere. I hadn’t realized…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes drifted to the pumpkins scattered about the room and the tray of desserts.

“What day it was? No neither had I until someone left the remains of a pumpkin under my desk,” he leaned in conspiratorially toward her, her heart leaping at his proximity, “I suspect Sera’s doing.” He straightened and looked around. “It is good though, after Adamant the soldiers could use a little cheer, it is after all – all in good fun.” He glanced at her slightly apprehensive.

All at once she realized that he was worried that she would stop the festivities.

“Oh, no! Of course they do!” Her hands waiving up near her face as if she could make him understand her confusion with her hands, “It’s just, I’ve never really celebrated Hallow’s Eve before. My family was always too busy and it just was never this…fun looking.” Her hands dropped to her side quickly as she realized how ridiculous she probably looked.

A funny look passed over Cullen’s face as he scratched behind his ear absently.

“Are you meaning to tell me, Inquisitor, that you have never celebrated Hallow’s Eve. Ever?” He cocked an eyebrow at her as stared at her questioningly. Oh maker, she thought, that did sound rather sad didn’t it? Valerie felt her face heat up again as she muttered a stilted yes, her eyes looking everywhere but the imposing form of him.

“Well,” he said his hand reaching out to gently grasp her forearm, she would never admit how her breath caught at the innocent touch, “we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” At once he offered her his arm that she took perhaps too quickly – escorting her to the dessert table and handing her one of the pumpkin tartlets she had been eyeing.

The pastry melted in her mouth as she tasted the delicacy, she would have to give the cooks a raise – they had certainly outdone themselves.

“How is it?” The Commander remarked from her side. Her mouth still full Valerie hurried to swallow the rest of the morsel before speaking. “Absolutely amazing.” She replied, licking the crumbs from off her lips. Cullen smiled at her before leading her outside into the courtyard that had not been over looked by the hold’s decorators. Gossamer cloth was strung across the bushes and tacked up into corners, carved pumpkins dotted the landscape flickering softly with candles within them and two children ran across their path towards the gazebo where Varric sat surrounded by children and a few stray adults. As they meandered towards Varric Valerie was glad for the warmth of the Commander next to her – a strong shiver catching her off guard as she moved turned her face towards him out of the wind.  

“...and in the dark of the night, when the wind is silent and the moon is full some say that you can still hear the screaming from the cellar where the family was killed. But the most interesting theory is that…” Varric’s voice floated towards them as he wrapped up his tale, luckily Valerie had already heard this one before – the real version that is – that Varric had told weeks ago in the Herald’s Rest. The man who had committed the murders was caught three days later in a pub bragging about the slaughter, still wearing the bloody shirt he had done the deed in. That was the part that disturbed Val the most – the complete disregard of human life the man had shown.

Cullen glanced down at the Inquisitor who looked far away, perhaps she wasn’t enjoying this? They had after all only caught the end of the story. His eyes wandered around the courtyard for inspiration when he spotted a few people near the benches carving large pumpkins and other gourds. He glanced down at Valerie thoughtfully before steering them over towards the mess.

“Tell me, Inquisitor, have you by chance ever carved a pumpkin?” She shook her head, “No? Well as luck would have it the last wave of refugees brought in a cartload of pumpkins – hoping to trade – to supplement our own growths for the holiday. Would you like to carve one?” Valerie’s eyes lit up as she nodded and separated from the Commander her pace quickening towards the tables. Grace, one of the stable hands saw her coming and grabbed a pumpkin and knife for her to carve with, handing them to her enthusiastically. Valerie turned back towards Cullen as she sat down, gesturing with her head to the empty seat next to her where they had played chess so many weeks ago. Cullen smiled as he walked, well aware of the mess that he was about to get into – but the smile on her face was worth every moment.

--

The sun had been set for hours by the time Valerie returned to her room exhausted. After the pumpkin carving (she had carved a cat and Cullen had carved the inquisition insignia – showoff) they had had lunch in the hall with everyone listening to another altered tale of Varric’s as they ate. Cullen stayed close to her the entire day, commenting and telling her all about his childhood in Honeleith and his siblings (his voice thick – not that she would mention it). The day was one of peace that Valerie could honestly say was one of the best days in her memory. There was no rush to do anything, no people to save, no world altering decisions with inquisitive looks from her advisors hoping that she made the right choice. Her friends – family really – were safe and happy.

Her hand brushed lightly against the wall as she walked up the stairs to her chambers, the cool midnight air blowing in through the open balcony doors. She realized today just how tightly wound she had been before today. She had needed this – this relaxation – this realization for what it was all for. Them. The people her choices affected. In her mind it had always been about ‘what’s next?’ now it was about ‘how do I help them?’ or ‘Is this enough?’. As Valerie drifted off to sleep her mind thought idly of Cullen and how attentive of her he was today, letting her try new things and mostly for not making fun of her inexperience. A slight flush filled her cheeks as she remembered how on the hayride one of the miller’s had put together Cullen had grabbed her hand as the wagon jostled them into each other. She wished that he would take her hand more often, she didn’t mind, she thought smiling. Shaking her head she rolled over and fell into a dreamless sleep.  

[sexviolenceandvideogames]

All Soul’s Day -- Once called “Funalis” and dedicated to Dumat, [...] the holiday is now known across Thedas as All Soul’s Day and [is] spent in somber remembrance of the dead.

A gift for @ohhitherecommander as part of the @thedaexchange Halloween Exchange.  The prompt was the mythos and traditions of Thedas that touch on the passing of souls, and the honoring of the dead across cultures.  I had to do quite a bit of research for this one.

For the illustration, Alistair seemed an appropriate choice to represent All Soul’s Day.  He grieves so heavily for Duncan, and with unmatched faith and sorrow.  Behind him, Falon’Din, the Elven god of Death and Fortune, guides souls into the Beyond.

More information on honoring the dead under the cut:

In Dalish culture: When Dalish elves die, their clan [buries] them and plant[s] a tree over their remains. The dead are provided with an oak staff to help them along the path of the afterlife, and a cedar branch to scatter the ravens of Fear and Deceit who were once servants of Dirthamen.

In Dwarven culture:  The Dwarven system of belief [...] reveres the duality of the Stone and the Ancestors. Ancestors are worthy dwarves who have been properly interred in the Stone [...] and who therefore function as guides to their descendants.

In Qunari culture: A corpse is considered an insignificant husk that is no longer the individual it once was, and thus is afforded no special treatment; rather disposed of [in] whatever manner is most practical.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!