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#𝓦𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑:

╰ ⋄⋆⋅✧ ⸻ ⧽ an independent, selective, and mature portayal of 𝓝𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝓖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐒 of DRAGON AGE: VEILGUARD. literate & long-winded. triggering themes present ! rules under readmore.

( deduced by 𝔏𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔞. 28. black. they/she. )

affiliated. @oneiricspun ; @heartofahalla / @throughstruggle ; @fatewoven

𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐗. ✤ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒. ✤ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒.

violentwavesofemotion-deactivat

Magdaléna Platzová, tr. by Alex Zucker, from “The Attempt,” publ. c. 2016

toastbutteregg

#✧ ⸻ ⧽ ❛ but she was deep in a mood of wintry isolation ( findings )

songsomi

Neve Gallus + Hair Down for my darling, @sekaithemystic 🩵

#THE HAIR DOWNNNN??? I’m sick….#🤧 🤧 🤒#✧ ⸻ ⧽ ❛ i am the bad daughter i am the freedom fighter ( portraiture )

sango-blep

When they dropped the cosplay guides, one of Neve's color swatches was mistakenly? labeled as tattoo...and the thought has been haunting me ever since

#THE CHEST TATTOO??????????#inconsolable #nsft #suggestive #✧ ⸻ ⧽ ❛ i am the bad daughter i am the freedom fighter ( portraiture )

dreadtrickster

' you found a way out ' / @winterfromtevinter

A sharp breath is taken in through his nose and held as the sudden feeling of surprise settles within his chest. Neve's voice is unexpected but not unwanted. It only proves that his efforts to push the limits of this prison he finds himself trapped in are worth something.

" Slightly. " He turns fully, facing Neve fully now. There's a certain air around him -- perhaps better described as an aura -- that seems to prove he is not truly here. Not corporeal at least. " Before you go calling for Rook, I assure you I am harmless as I am now. A manifestation of sorts. Here but ... not. "

He looks the Tevinter mage up and down, chin tilting a bit higher. Solas decides it isn't worth a drawn out explanation. Neve should be knowledgeable enough to tie the loose ends together should she not? Is that not her job? Is she not a mage from Tevinter where they certainly know everything there is to know of magic? His face never sours despite such pridefully stubborn thoughts. " Neve Gallus. A pleasure to meet without all of the thwarting of rituals getting in the way. "

winterfromtevinter

The hour grows late, Neve's own energy wan. Another day of hunting myths and combing through ancient ruins has left her wrung-out. Their ventures have taken them deep into the winding paths of Arlathan forest, redolent with the alien grace of Elvehn magic. She's never felt anything like it. Doubts few humans alive would be able to describe the majesty of it. It is humbling. It is terrifying. The traces it leaves are enough to prickle her skin with awareness, to grant a lightness to her step. To cast around it, within it, feels as if she has supped of the purest water she will ever taste. How the beauty of it feels unearned.

Whispers of that same power curl around Sola's diaphanous form. Flickering mage-light from sconces almost pass through him, though not quite. He speaks at least partially true ( Bellara and Davrin's stories ring in her ears. Shapeshifter, wolf in the night, liar ⸻ ). As he is not solid flesh, not fully. That does not mean he is not dangerous. Whether he be mage or god, he is far stronger than he has any right to be.

"Harmless as you are now, maybe." she agrees. The understood undertone of now: is he amassing strength? How long until he can be a threat once more?

She does not come any closer, lingering at the edge of the hall. Neve may not have known Varric well enough to truly mourn him, but she saw the dagger sink into his chest all the same. And Varric had called Solas friend. There are no such claims of loyalty between them to futilely protect her.

"Wish I could echo the sentiment. Solas? Dread Wolf?" she moves quickly on from her false pleasantries. Dread curls in her gut; she wonders if he'll answer true. Likely not, though she still asks. "Your tether: Rook's blood, or the Lighthouse itself? Rook told us you had forged a connection through them. Funny, how powerful a few drops of blood can be." The revelation had worried Neve from the moment it was uttered.

Arlathan had also been gravid with a magic much more familiar to Neve. That makes the air thick. Catches in the lung and cloys in the throat. When used for violence, it is an ugly, brute thing. The Veil echoes the hurt. Mangled by the horrors it has endured, shows signs of the demons that have pressed in close to lap at the power. The sheer amount of blood the Magisters must have used to take down Arlathan...the Veil is unraveling at the seams. A tapestry of beauty now threadbare. Blood magic rarely leaves whole what it has touched.

She worries for Rook's mind, if that is how Solas communicates with them. If that is how he appears now, drawing on their leader's strength.

#heyyyy maxi. bestie. i am so sorry for the length here! reply only as much as you want to #i got carried away......ahah.....#dreadtrickster

hemerasiae

credit: [x]

#i actually also need this on my blog #✧ ⸻ ⧽ ❛ i am the bad daughter i am the freedom fighter ( portraiture )

mcflymemes

PROMPTS FOR PRE ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS AND CREATING HISTORY BETWEEN CHARACTERS * assorted dialogue for giving your characters a history and giving them past things or events to talk about, adjust as necessary

do you remember what i told you last time?

have you been doing well since i saw you?

that's not what you told me back then.

when was the last time i saw you?

you were shorter then.

i'm picking the restaurant this time.

we've known each other since we were children.

always knew i could count on you.

that time was different. this is worse.

you're not going to let me live that down, are you?

i seem to remember a conversation we had back then.

so you changed your mind about it?

do you remember our encounter in paris?

you should know me by now.

am i the only one that knows the truth?

we had a lot of help back then.

your mom told me to look out for you.

you just love bringing that back up to annoy me.

maybe don't mention my past indescretions?

this was never going to work out between us.

i told you not to get attached.

i know more about you than you think.

i was there, remember?

i'm not about to forget all the shit you put me through.

you told me you were going to try and make this work.

remember what i said to you?

the last time i saw you, things were good between us.

you never mentioned this before.

that was the longest flight of my life, and you made it worse.

can i still trust you after all that?

at least we tried to make something work.

we never discussed what happened between us.

okay, but i'm driving the car this time.

i haven't forgotten what you said last week.

i'm still thinking about your comment.

i didn't realize it was you when i first saw you.

you seem to make a lot of enemies around here.

there's not much for us to talk about.

we worked it out last time.

i know you far better than you know yourself.

we have a long history.

is that the shirt you were wearing last time?

what don't i know about you?

i haven't told them about us.

you were the only person i could go to.

you know me.

this is bigger than both of us.

i can't stand your driving.

are you taking me to the place we had dinner last time?

that's not at all what you said.

didn't we agree on that?

i thought i made it very clear where i stand.

are these the same people that came after you last time?

are you still going on about it?

can we talk about it?

staying silent about it won't help.

you're the only person who knows the real me.

this is a bad time to talk about your problems.

aesfocus

#✧ ⸻ ⧽ ❛ i am the bad daughter i am the freedom fighter ( portraiture )#truly the only woman ever

oneiricspun

"No, not them. You." That was hardly an kind of sensible, normal explanation. She cants her head to one side, arms reach out in a stretch not unlike that of a waking cat's. "People who are awake manifest differently in the Fade."

She gives up trying to find her place: it's futile, and she'd likely skim back to the beginning of the chapter later. The book is one she'd found in the ruins of Arlathan. It's old, but remarkably preserved, and written entirely in Ancient Elvhen. Most she can understand. However, some is incomprehensible, flailing gibberish that she'll need to mull over with Bellara at some point. But, from what she's gathered, it appears to be a collection of stories.

"Have you ever Dreamt?" She asks, finally collecting her senses. "Not like, had a dream. Most of us do that. But have you ever walked the Fade in your dreams? Explored? Known that what your seeing is real, or was real, but at the same time it's not?"

At this rate, she's unintentionally skirting around the subject. She can't pinpoint why. Maybe the reason she can't shape what she's trying to say lies behind Abevas' reasons for wanting to send her to another clan to replace their Keeper.

"I can do that. Dream. Will myself and fall into a pocket of the Fade as I sleep, so lucidly that it becomes real. It can be very fun; but, here it's like it happens so regularly and unintentionally. So, it does kind of pull, I'd say. At least here it does."

Here: in the Lighthouse. It is, for all intents and purposes, in the Fade itself. But maybe also not. It's somewhere in between some Fade and all Fade. Sometimes, as she sleeps, the Lighthouse is what it once was in all its glory: beautiful and gleaming white stone towers, architecture no living being could fathom. Other times, it is what could be. Overgrown and lying in heaps of rubble and ruin.

"Actually!" A bolt of realization strikes her mind, and gears begin turning in ways she didn't know they could. "Would you want to? Come with me into the Fade? Not physically, of course! Depending, you can shape the Fade into what you want it to be in your dreams."

winterfromtevinter

"This is the closest I've ever come to it," she waves a hand to encompass the room and all that beyond it. The Lighthouse, the Fade beyond, the twisting Crossroads. "Though it probably doesn't count. Davrin and Lace and the rest are all here and they certainly aren't mages," Neve pauses to consider further. "Sometimes dreams have felt more...real than others. We mages are beacons, and sometimes it's as if I've caught the attention of something. I can hide, in those dreams. If I'm quick and clever enough. I haven't had one since I was a child," she remembers shaking her father awake in sweat-laden terror. He hadn't understood, not really. His dreams were merely the everyman's Fade wanderings. "Then I learned to fortify my mental defenses. To sweet, regular dreams I returned."

A common enough story. However, what Rook speaks of is another beast entirely. "We call people with your gift somniari in Tevinter. It's incredibly rare; I've only read about the phenomena myself. It's so scarce a talent that my life would have had a very different trajectory if I'd ever developed the skill," there have been entire generations without any documented Dreamers. Any somniari in the Imperium would have immediately gained the attention of Magisters across the nation. They would be all too eager to capture one under their thumb.

A thought occurs. "Is it common amongst your people? To be able to walk freely in dreams as you do?" The elves Rook come from are remote, purposefully isolationist. Perhaps the skill has flourished in those far reaches.

Rook's enthusiasm is dazzling. Neve also can't deny her own curiosity. Of course she would like to try. When will an opportunity like this ever show itself again? Even her natural wariness, the running catalogue of what could go wrong screaming in the back of her mind, isn't enough to dull the excitement she feels. Sue her, whatever Rook has is contagious.

"Where would we go? Do you have places you often visit?"

#oneiricspun

venombloom

❝A quick taste of the poison...

Indie. Selective. Somewhat Private Rook of Dragon Age: Veilguard sideblog to @faerie--macabre | template | PSD | PSD

A quick twist of the knife...❞

#✧ ⸻ ⧽ ❛ the wanted list ( promotions )

My head hurts too badly to probably do anything else with him tonight and properly set him up. But come get your girlfailure ( Illario Dellamorte ) over on @maldamores. Sideblog, btw!

#✧ ⸻ ⧽ ❛ steve blues clues voice: we just found a clue ! ( ooc )#i'm excited i've been saying for a bit now that i want to write him

dreadtrickster

GOD OF LIES, TREACHERY, AND REBELLION ....

solas from the dragon age series / written by maxi / 25+

depending on the story.

#MAXI MAXI MAXI RAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!#herbie said you were going to write solas and i almost cried #the hero ( definitely not a hero ) we Need!!!#✧ ⸻ ⧽ ❛ the wanted list ( promotions )

I think. I’m getting the hint. That some of you would like if I wrote Illario.

#ENVY DEMON POSSESSED ILLARIO YES!!!!#bc he has to have everything lucanis has….including being fucking possessed. loser #crying kiwi HAKSJSKSK #also mana 😏 hello 😏 the crow bullshit we could do..#✧ ⸻ ⧽ ❛ steve blues clues voice: we just found a clue ! ( ooc )

fatewoven

Rooftops, each of those high, nigh-inaccessible places, preserves a certain magic during the late, quiet hours of solitude. Between and during contracts; unique in their horizons as they carry along an unwritten history only witnessed by the sky, the endless dawn and dusk. For a spell, he considers Minrathos from Neve's meddlesome perspective as she walked those familiar streets, staring up at the Archon's Palace with a challenging glint instead of looking down on the people. How might a city's heart change when it holds the title of home rather than a mere layover between missions, a cesspit of corruption and petty cruelty.

No doubt she views Treviso in a similar vein. Murderers and despots tend to be cut from the same cloth, no matter their origin. The markets of Antiva are, after all, no less inundated with the blood of slaves than of Tevinter's sun-soaked pavements.

"To be cautious is a natural state for most people who favor living, I've found. The ones who are daring, on the other hand, are worth some praise. You've a talent for walking the line between those traits with your... impressive record." Impulsive with a bleeding heart, ever prepared to throw herself into danger for the sake of others despite a careful, rational mind. An easy enough weakness to exploit; yet another detail filed away in his mind along with the myriad others. Poor diet, lack of sleep. The difficulties of navigating the world with a prosthetic — and most of all, that odd ribbon of trust she presents despite her apparent cynicism.

Salt-water memories. Tang of copper. The rotting wooden planks groaning under the weight of a city. She's perfumed by the scent of blood, always there in the aftermath to clean up, pay respects, and deliver some semblance of peace to those grieving.

TEMPTATION. SHE'S THOUGHT OF IT, TOO.

And it would be tempting, wouldn't it? To solve all of the world's problem with the antecedents of history; a flick of the hand to channel all the spilled blood in her homeland toward a fairer tomorrow. But she chooses to do it the hard way, teeth grit and limbs aching. Whether that's admirable or meaningless remains to be seen.

Lucanis watches her from his periphery, and feels a touch grateful as she drinks the coffee, every ounce of her humming appreciative. It's a small gesture, but he tucks it in somewhere private all the same alongside the personal histories. "Your goals to a better future are admirable. I cannot say the same for mine with full honesty... Crows serve to preserve the existing state of affairs. We have killed as many revolutionaries as we have tyrants." A low sound, reminiscent of laughter echoes in his larynx. A lavender-tinted noise, harsh and malicious. "I've no illusion my work in Vyrantium served as little else but warning to everyone else who dreams of stepping outside their status in society." Or perhaps he's the worse cynic, now.

"Further, indeed. Though I've never been anywhere without the pretense of business." Never to know any place beyond the boundaries of a contract, the kill, and the crime scene. Still... "The next time we're free, could I accompany you? To know a city as you do would be enlightening."

winterfromtevinter

"Don't believe everything Bellara tells you. Much of it is greatly exaggerated, and she always seems to have read the worst ones. I don't indulge her on the details because it might ruin her fun." Her reputation has almost taken on that of serial character herself. Scandal sells, as does daring. Keeping up with the papers is a good way to have a handle on the pulse of public favor. As much as she's applauded she is in equal measure considered a public menace. A vigilante overstepping her means as a Laetan of little financial importance. The worst of them mention her father.

She's only ever called Ennius Gallus' daughter as an insult. He'd hate it, if he was still alive.

Neve studies the Crow as he speaks. She's aware of what they are and the purpose they serve. It is easy to become lost in a rather romantic view of Antiva. The sensual, sticky heat of the city. Treviso's canals the sapphire crowning jewel. A secret lover's kiss dared in the shadow of the cramped buildings. Wine meant to be savored, indulged. An exchange of coin and a contract accepted. The slick slide of poisoned steel between the fourth and fifth ribs.

No. Neve corrects her musings. The lustrous showmanship of silverite, not steel. A magnificent weapon for an ugly crime. The shining silver-blue dagger would whisper deadly-fast through the air before his target even knew it. Lucanis comes from money stained crimson. She wonders if he is proud of being his grandmother's favorite.

He certainly is not gloating as he speaks. His face is drawn, his mouth downturned. Pensive, reflective. Acceptance of fact, or genuine remorse? He takes little pleasure in the statement: ' We have killed as many revolutionaries as we have tyrants. ' Either way how he feels about it matters little. Dead is dead, the deed done. That's why they hired him.

That is to say, this is hardly new information to Neve. She lets it sit between them. "Those in power like to stay there. They'll do pretty much anything to keep that," she comments. For her, this is fact, worn and true. She has seen it all her life. Threatening what the powerful hold most dear ⸻ their dominion ⸻ is one of the most dangerous things you can do in a place like Minrathous. Neve imagines the same holds true for Treviso.

Another sip of her coffee, warm on her tongue. She won't cheapen the experience by drinking it too quickly. Finally, her eyes are dragged away from her study of the assassin. The cup is fine craftsmanship, porcelain beautifully wrought and brightly colored. "You want to go to Minrathous? Don't expect anything pretty," she warns. There's beauty to be found in Dock Town, but she knows that not everyone loves it as dearly as she does. She thinks of the fine things Lucanis must be used to with his blood-money luxury. The fine cup is turned accusatory in her ink-stained hands. "The side of town I know isn't glamorous. Nothing's gilded gold, and most of it smells like fish. You'll get your boots dirty, too." All this said with a measure of fondness.

She'll admit that the thought of returning home for a moment sounds nice.

"You have a deal if you agree to show me around Treviso. Contract, bargain, agreement. Whatever term you prefer.Especially if you buy more of these coffee beans."

#fatewoven

rainystarters

* ☔ : action prompts inspired by FANTASY, NOBILITY, ETC. some prompts are usfw. add reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. ( adjust scenarios or specify details as needed. )

crown of dawn. sender swears their fealty to the receiver.

crown of silver. sender congratulates the receiver on their political engagement, hiding their true affection for the receiver.

crown of midnight. sender dances with the receiver at a masquerade.

crown of glass. sender meets the receiver while their true identity is concealed.

crown of shadows. sender controls the receiver through magic or blackmail, making them their pawn so they can rule from the background.

crown of ink. sender meets the receiver for the first time after they are joined in an arranged marriage.

crown of starlight. sender kneels before the receiver to receive a boon.

crown of rot. sender accuses the receiver of failing their people.

crown of sorrow. sender tells the receiver they are the new lord/queen/etc. as those ahead of them in the line of succession have died.

crown of blood. sender stands before the receiver to be judged for their crimes.

crown of lies. sender accuses the receiver of not being the true heir.

crown of thorns. sender crowns the receiver after killing the previous ruler.

crown of nightshade. sender consumes a poisoned drink meant for the receiver.

#time 4 my favorite ask meme again

winterfromtevinter

I have officially finished Neve's bio! I'm sorry for the lengthy read, but I hope it's at least enjoyable.

#for the day crew!

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