find me in the fade, pls

I'm glad you're here, let me share some warmth with you. My content is dedicated to Dragon Age, moistly Inquisition. I also like BG3, BDO, DW and MLBB. There's a lot of solavellan here🩵

My Dragon Age OC's:

▾ DAO: Taivi Surana, Female Elf, Mage ♡ Alister ▾ DA2: Odri Hawke, Female, Mage ♡ Fenris ▾ DAI: Aelin Lavellan, Female Dalish Elf, Rouge ♡ Solas ▾ DATV: Ria Arei Merkar, Female Dalish Elf, Mage ♡ Neve

My BG3 OC: Dairy, Tivling, Ranger ♡ Astarion

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Don't let me go - solavellan Lavellan, Solas, Varric, and Cassandra embark on their first mission to the Storm Coast. Lavellan is still adjusting to her new role, while her relationship with Solas remains tense after a kiss in the Fade. Both are filled with doubt, uncertainty, and pain. Will they be able to sort out their feelings under the rains of the Storm Coast? (or about how Solas and Lavellan struggled with their enforced distance)

If you hear my voice - will you turn around? (in progress) - solavellan

For six years Lavellan followed his trail. Now, for the first time, and with the help of the Inquisition and the Antivan Crows, she is one step ahead.

Tags🩵 • Just other fics and thoughts •

Сommunity🩵 • Dragon Age Fanfictions | RP💜

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The Great Protector | Moon | Justice for @evanurisweek vir'abelasan - The Well of Sorrows*

"Please, stay," the dark-haired elf said, glancing anxiously over her shoulder. She thought she had heard footsteps.

"I can't. Forgive me, I can't," the other elf whispered, her voice strained and cracking under the effort. She paced restlessly around the lavishly furnished room, darting from one side to the other like a bird trapped in a cage.

"What are you thinking?" her companion pleaded. "You have to stay here, with me. Serving Mythal is better than going back there."

"Serving? We're slaves. Can't you see that?" she shot back. "Forgive me, vhenan, but I can't do this anymore. I can't live like this. In service. In this despair. In bondage. I'm not like you. I want to leave."

"You bear her vallaslin. You'll never escape Mythal. Please, come to your senses. They'll find you, and they'll kill you."

The elf came to a helpless stop in the middle of the room. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she continued, her voice breaking with emotion:

"Vallaslin? Do you think that's the problem? Of course... They'll find me because of it!" She raised her voice, panic creeping into every word. "I have to... I have to—"

Suddenly, she lifted her hands to her face and began scraping at the skin where her vallaslin lay, dragging her nails across it in frantic, erasing motions.

The dark-haired elf rushed to her at once, seized her wrists, and forced her to stop. Tears spilled from her eyes when she saw the bloody streaks running across her beloved's face.

"Listen, listen, Mariel! Forgive me!" she said quickly. "I... I'll go with you. Okay? Listen to me. I'll help you. We'll leave together. Please, don't ever do that again, vhenan."

She gently brushed her lips against Mariel's, tasting the salt of her tears.

"Did I hear correctly? Are the two of you planning to go somewhere?"

Mythal's voice crashed over them like thunder.

Both elves flinched and froze where they stood, staring at the majestic Mythal.

It was over.

"I don't recall assigning you any such orders."

Mythal stepped into the room and approached the two elves, who stood clutching each other's hands in fear. Every step she took. Every sharp click of her heels against the floor sent a chill through their hearts.

"No... no," the dark-haired elf interrupted the silence. "We weren't going anywhere, my goddess. We were talking about gathering herbs for your ritual. You were preparing for—"

Her voice trembled, but she forced a faint smile as Mythal drew closer.

"Show me your face," Mythal said coldly, her gaze fixed on Mariel.

The elf did not move. She kept staring toward the window, beyond which the sun was sinking into the horizon.

"Mariel. Turn around."

The elf remained still. Mythal reached out, took hold of her chin, and forcibly turned her pale face toward her. Bloody streaks marred the vallaslin, running from her forehead down to her cheeks. Mariel's breathing was ragged, and she stared at Mythal defiantly as she slowly turned her chin from side to side, inspecting the wounds.

"There is no point in lying to me," Mythal said, shifting her gaze to the dark-haired elf as though she had only just noticed her presence. "I heard your conversation. Did you truly believe you could deceive me?"

"No, no, please. Forgive us," the dark-haired elf pleaded, dropping to her knees and bowing her head low at Mythal's feet. "It was a mistake."

"A mistake?" Mythal repeated with interest. "A mistake... Well then. Everyone makes mistakes, do they not, Mariel?"

She released Mariel's chin and slowly brushed her hand along the side of her scratched face. A cool light bloomed in her palm, and the scratches on the elf's face healed.

Mariel said nothing.

"I can forgive you, but can I trust that this will never happen again? Can I trust that my closest servants will not betray me? Is serving me truly such a burden to you?"

"Yes. Serving you is dreadful!" Mariel's words shattered the silence. At the same moment, she felt her beloved tug warningly at the edge of her robe. "I hate every day I spend with you. I hate being your slave. You're a monster who drags everyone to your skirts, and you care nothing for the feelings of others!"

The crack of a slap rang through the room.

"How dare you... I was kind to you! You were safe here, in the palace, and this is how you repay me? Both of you?"

Mythal looked down at the kneeling elf before taking a step back. Her heart filled with resentment and contempt for the ungrateful servant. It took several seconds before Mythal regained her composure.

"Very well. I understand both of you. Of course, service should not be forced." Mythal turned her gaze toward the window. Her voice changed, becoming softer, gentler. The two elves exchanged frightened glances.

"In service, you should feel that every step you take and every day you live belongs to your goddess. You should feel joy in carrying out her will... My will. And so it was. You also swore to serve me when you drew vallaslin upon your faces. I cannot release you, but I will help you serve better," a cold smile crept across Mythal's lips, and her eyes darkened. "You must be bound to me in spirit and body, only then can you be truly happy."

Mariel lowered her head in helplessness, and the elf kneeling on the floor did not dare raise her gaze. A dead silence fell over the room. Mythal clapped her hands, and two tall elven guards in golden armor and hoods entered.

"Take them to the vir'abelasan," Mythal said lightly, nodding toward the elves. The guards seized the servants by the arms, despite their resistance.

"She is innocent in all of this," Mariel cried out. "Take me! Let her go! She did not want to leave!"

Mythal stepped toward Mariel, who was struggling against the guard's firm hold.

"She chose you at the very end. Not the wisest choice for one of my servants. Take them away."

The crystal surface of The Well of Sorrows reflected in its smooth waters the last golden rays of the sun. Mythal stood not far away, solemnly watching from a rise as the guards forced the elven women to their knees and bowed their heads over the spring, gripping them firmly by the necks and awaiting her signal. Around them several other elves had gathered, observing what was happening with interest.

Mythal raised her palm, and the guards lowered the servants' heads to the spring in unison.

"I am showing you kindness. Remember this."

A few seconds were enough for each of them to swallow water, and Mythal raised her hand again, completing her revenge upon the servants who had betrayed her.

The guards released the elven women, and both surfaced from the water, coughing and gasping. Mythal instantly slipped into Mariel's consciousness. She felt each of her blissful seconds and every poisoned thought of escape.

"Now you will be mine forever, dear Mariel," Mythal said in her mind, and saw Mariel glance at her. "I will erase every disloyal thought. Yours and your beloved's. I will rid you of your moments of love and fill your minds with my love. This will protect you from rash decisions. You will serve me eternally, even after death. For I want what is best for you. Accept my kindness."

After a few seconds Mariel obediently rose to her feet and bowed low to Mythal. Then her dark-haired beloved repeated the subdued gesture of submission. Silently. Reverently. Submissively. And there was no sweeter revenge than that born from the betrayal of kindness.

Elgar'nan - God of Vengeance | Sun | Power for @evanurisweek

Bow to Me, My Moon

"Show me your face," Elgar'nan's low, velvet voice echoed through the great hall, and the elf, kneeling before him, raised his head.

"This… This looks magnificent," Elgar'nan continued reverently. "These patterns, this color… Every curve reflects my power and your readiness to serve me until death itself. Vallaslin. This is what everyone must wear…. I grant you power. Use it. I want everyone who serves me to wear Vallaslin upon their face. Everyone. Remember that. If you meet with disobedience, you know what must be done." Elgar'nan was, as always, unyielding.

The elf silently bowed in gratitude to Elgar'nan, who sat before him upon the throne, rose from his knees, and made his way toward the exit. Elgar'nan watched the departing elf with pleasure, and in his heart he reveled in the bitter poison of power.

"Not everyone will accept this decision. Be ready for that," Mythal said thoughtfully as she entered the throne hall. Her long gown swayed softly with each step.

"There is no sense in restraining myself when everyone around me longs to behold my power. To savor serving me. To desire me," Elgar'nan mused aloud, then glanced at Mythal, who had stopped beside him. "They will have no choice but to take Vallaslin," he continued. "I want to see their faces. To see them wear my marks and serve me. Do you intend to defy me?"

"I am warning you."

"You are perceptive and kind, as always… Kindness, my Moon, is the lot of the weak. Save it for your lapdog," Elgar'nan smirked and thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Your doubt is in vain. I will prove it to you. When you see the embodiment of my triumph, you too will want your servants to wear your Vallaslin upon their faces. It is an indescribable feeling."

Elgar'nan smiled lustfully, took Mythal's hand in his own, and brought it to his lips. Mythal offered no resistance.

There is no part of your body that Solas does not adore with his whole heart. So he kisses you slowly, tenderly, enjoying every breath you give him. Drawing out the moment is his favorite game with you. He feels you trying to deepen the kiss and pulls back immediately. An almost-visible smirk tugs at his lips.  His fingers wrap around your neck, pressing lightly, not hard, but with enough pressure to make you tilt your head slightly upward.

While observing the proprieties in this dance of pleas and bliss, his lips drift slowly from the corner of your mouth, along the sharp line of your jaw, to your earlobe. You give a small jolt at the faint tickle of his tongue against it. He catches your reaction. He had been waiting for exactly this. Overcome by the seductive thrill of possession, he wraps his lips around your earlobe and the earring in it. You might have pulled away from the sudden shiver that ran through your body. But not now. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and hold you like strong vines. There isn’t a single chance that this teasing game, already ready to melt into lust, will stop. 

The attraction to you inexorably pulls his mind into a thick haze, intoxicating him. You catch his touch, take in his desire, and let yourself enjoy it.  Your mind has too often won, refusing you the desires you crave most, the deepest, darkest ones, the kind that are easier to hide behind deception than to admit to yourself. So you make a fleeting decision: to give in to this, to let him want you, and to find out exactly where it will take you.

His lips slide down to the soft skin of your neck as he possessively threads his fingers into your hair and tightens them at the roots. These soft, tempting curves belong to him, and he covers the line of your neck in kisses. You expect him to move lower, but all you feel is the tip of his tongue grazing your skin. It sends a shiver through you. Impatience. Craving.

He smiles slyly as he feels your pulse quicken beneath his lips. Solas changes the rules. He wants you to forget everything. His fingers roam freely through your hair, threading and tangling between the strands. His wet lips glide over your skin. Feeling how pliantly you melt under his caresses,Solas gently draws the flushed, sensitive skin of your neck. You shudder… and open your eyes. 

Candlelight, crickets chirping, rare splashes of water, a light breeze, and he, beside you, opens his eyes a second late.

“Bad dream, my love?” Solas asked quietly without hiding his satisfaction. In the warm light of flickering candles he looked even more enchanting than usual. Your gaze slid lower, to his unbuttoned shirt revealing his strong chest to your eyes. You know you will not answer him. You see with what effort he tries not to reveal his playful smirk, you see flashes of a dark spark flickering in his eyes. You noticed this look before but never dared to ask about it, perhaps you will not dare at all.

His hands reach toward you with a demanding need for touch. He firmly takes your wrist, pulls you toward him, and turns onto his back. His palms firmly lower onto your rounded thighs as he settles you above him. You see his adoration mixed with lust, ignited by the Fade. You feel him with your whole body, and your secret desire gains will, pushing out reason and allowing the subconscious to lead you. When his fingers slipped under the nightdress and pressed tighter into soft skin, you felt his desire become tangible, and realized how dependent on you he is right now.