"Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I find memories no other living being has ever seen."
Hello Everyone, it's been a hot minute hasn't it? Bioware's announcements and the new content being released about Dragon Age: The Veilgaurd have got me hyped and eager to delve back into writing in the world of Thedas.
However, this blog was originally created as a side-blog to a personal account that I no longer use, and it simply made more sense for organization and posting to create a new account just for my Dragon Age writing now I'm starting up again. I will be working on migrating my content here over to the new blog where I will begin posting new stories soon, so please feel free to follow me there at: ShouldaSpunaStory
So, in the last few weeks I made a new Inquisitor/baby to cosplay on TikTok, started a new DAI game/file for him, and now I’m writing about him because he took on a life of his own, I never learn, and this franchise clearly owns my soul. Hope you enjoy! <3
Hamin Lavellan (DA:I, prologue), for @dadrunkwriting & @aly-the-writer
They get it wrong. They always do, of course. Solas may not be Dalish, but even he must know from the bow and quiver that’s strapped to his back, and without an ounce of magical blood running through him that he wasn’t First to the Keeper for Clan Lavellan. Hamin doesn’t bother to correct them, though, and the strange elven wanderer seems content to follow his lead. They’ve already decided on a narrative too, these Shems. Pigeon-holed him into a story that features him saved and designated the messenger by a God he doesn’t even believe in.
Hamin doesn’t bother to say much where he can help it. Cassandra is hardly the first human to brandish threats or weapons at him, but unlike a good deal of his and his fellow hunter’s scrapes in the past, she seems quite capable of backing them up, could probably best him. He’s trained the same as any of their Clan’s hunters, knows his way around a dagger or two as well as his preferred bow, but Hamin has always seen and fought better at a distance.
So, he does as his Keeper had advised him before sending him off, and tries to remain, if not unseen, then, at least, unheard. He bites his tongue so often there’s a rumor that their “Herald of Andraste” may be mute. Hamin may not in chains anymore, but the abrupt change of heart in the Seeker and the rest of this Inquisition, its followers, and even the pilgrims is less a comfort and more a reminder of the mutability of the minds of Shems, particularly in large numbers. Those hearts and minds that smile and clap for him now could be changed again, turned once more against him, whenever it suits them.
Hamin mourns as he does many things since unexpectedly waking up in the dark and damp of Haven’s Chantry dungeon, silently and in private. Halani. For all that his parents named him ‘rest’ they were his. So much smarter than him, and ever so hard-working, but Halani never let being the clan’s First never come between making time for him. When Deshanna made the announcement she would be sending her First to observe and report back about the Shems’ meetings over the fate of Templars and Mages, Hamin volunteered. Sharp eyes, an even sharper shot, and more motivation than any to protect them. He would travel with them, keep them safe. But he’s failed. He’s failed Halani. He’s failed the Keeper. He’s failed them all.
Do you intend to go back, Cassandra asks. Can he? Could he bear to? Would it be safe? Would the Clan even take him in the wake of his failure to protect one of their most treasured, their most precious? How can they possibly forgive him when he can scarcely begin to imagine forgiving himself?
And yet, he misses them. Acutely. A pronounced ache in his chest at the thought of his fellow hunters, his friends, their Hahren, and the Keeper. Misses too the familiar sights, sounds, and smells of the lands they’ve roamed, so different from these across the sea. His clothes are sturdy and warm, Hamin spent a good portion of an afternoon complimenting and speaking to Harritt as such good craftsmanship had merited, but nicer still would be not to need them. For a climate warm enough to feel the earth beneath his bare feet again. He takes up roost at the top of the steps, a silent sentry, the night of the first full moon since waking to this nightmare. The sight of her had thrilled him once. She feels remote now like a shore made little more than a speck on the horizon by unfathomable distance. To say nothing for the great ugly scar that diminishes her beautiful shine and paints the snowy landscape in hues of green.
His heart and blood still race, feet restless to track, to stalk, and finally to run. But Haven already has hunters. Passing good, if the elf is feeling charitable. And Hamin can just imagine what the sight, word of a savage knife-ear hunting just beyond the walls would do for the whispers already flying about amongst ignorant soldiers and pilgrims. Sound though Varric’s advice probably is, there is nowhere for Hamin to run. Halani’s death and whatever strange twist of fate which burned this mark upon his hand have both unmoored and anchored him. Indifferent and distrustful as he may be, abandoning the Inquisition when he may be the only one with the means of closing these rifts isn’t really much of a choice. He will stay for the sake and future of his Clan, whether they still acknowledge and accept him or no. He will stay because it’s what Halani would have done, always the better of the pair of them. Hamin wouldn’t wish the pain nor any of the difficulties that are sure to accompany his mark on anyone else, though the world might yet, and if any of these people had known the true envoy of Clan Lavellan, if they had any inkling of just what they’d lost at the Conclave, they’d be right to.
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Probably going to be a bit late hopping on this evening, but hoping to get some writing done and clean out some of the backlog from the inbox. Happy Friday all! <3
So I commissioned the wonderful and talented @bvckybvnes to do my beautiful red headed warrior queen, Ophelia Cousland, and I am absolutely SPEECHLESS!!! When I first saw this... I literally almost cried of happiness because of how perfect it was!!! The hair... the freckles... HER EYES!!! It's exactly how I pictured her and I'm just so happy I got to work with such an amazing, talented and the absolute sweetest person for this!!! I cannot even express my love and gratitude enough on the perfection encaptured here... ANNNDDD I would definitely commission Jess again as well as HIGHLY recommending other's to do so as well because it'sabsolutely worth it!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
