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Josie was unsuccessful in convincing Cullen that a silk brocade would better suit his station, much to her chagrin.

You wake. Everything aches.

The sharp tang of iron coats your tongue, and the thready beat of your pulse thrums along your neck.

With great effort you open your eyes, flinching from the blinding sun that filters through the canopy of leaves above. You roll to your side, and a flare of pain races along your spine. Your vision blurs. You blindly reach your hand out to brace against the tall object in front of you. Rough, textured, like bark. A tree? The shifting shadows and dappled sunlight flickering through the leaves makes your head spin. Nausea twists through your gut.

After a moment of labored breathing, your vision clears. Your eyes land on a scrap of parchment abandoned in the roots of the tree, crumpled and damp as though it was recently clenched in a sweaty grip. There is writing. The scrawled lines are blurred but still legible.

Come to the ruins. You will find what you seek there.

"What I seek?" you croak.

A flicker of recognition. The handwriting is familiar, yet your mind is a haze of emptiness and confusion. Where are you? And... who are you?

You stand, brushing leaves and sticks from your cloak. The fabric is worn at the seams, and the tattered ends sway in the breeze. A gust of wind slams into you, nearly toppling you to the ground. You twist, eyes squinting against the sun - one hand raised to shadow your face while the other braces your weight against the tree.

You stand near the edge of a cliff. Before you lies a valley so thickly forested that you cannot see the ground beneath the tree canopy. Across the valley your eyes catch on something, something nestled into the base of mountains and crawling up to the highest peak. Spindly structures - buildings - ebb and flow like vines along the face of the mountains. The jagged bones of decrepit towers pierce the sky along the crest of the mountains. Crumbling buildings on islands of stone halo the highest peak.

"The ruins," you murmur.

Your grip tightens around the note. The folds of the parchment fit neatly into the creases of your palm.

You are faced with a choice. Do you:

⟡ Descend into the valley

⟡ Discard the parchment note and abandon your journey

Developer Notes Below!

I’m like

The Tabris Tragedy.

My contribution for Taash's week. Found out about this late unfortunately. Taash is special to me so i wanted to take my time to really think the prompt through. This is for day 1: Adaari

We're thrilled to share the donation totals for Dragon Age Annual 2026! Despite some trials and tribulations, we're proud to say that MSF Sweden has received the LARGEST donation in DAA history 💜

Donation Totals: 60 532 SEK · 5,619€ · $6,545 USD

Thank you, Dragon Age fandom, for lending us your talent & support - we couldn't do it without you!!

English translation under the cut

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Nightingale's Eyes

Southeast Asian Leliana inspired by a post I saw that I sadly lost >.> If anyone knows the post I'm talking about pls share!!

Also please reblog if you like it, I spent all day painting and now my hands hurt so I'd really appreciate some likes and reblogs <3