#ciuin

Parasaurolophus - share a scene where a character is/gets embarrassed or flustered

I certainly am! Here's a longer snippet of my male elf inquisitor and Dorian from Dragon Age: Inquisition, set in the Exalted Plains among the Dalish elven clan there. No real knowledge of DA is needed for anyone reading it who's not played the game, but a halla is a small, adorable gazelle like creature that looks like this: (also ft. Ciúin the grumpy looking elf). (Hazel is the red hart mount that looks like an elk)

In the distance, Ciúin and Hazel could be seen encouraging a few more halla back towards the aravels. Dorian watched with a tiny smile as Ciúin slipped gracefully from the saddle and picked something up from the grass. A moment later, he had scooped a tiny newborn halla up into his arms and had swung back into the saddle. He walked Hazel forwards, coaxing the newborns mother to follow, which she did, and when he returned to the camp, he took the rangy little newborn straight to Ithiren.  

The halla master checked her over, and beamed a smile at Ciúin. When Ciúin glanced up and saw Dorian watching him, he beamed at him, and Dorian’s empty stomach slipped sideways for a moment. It was so rare to see Ciúin smile like that – truly smile – it took his breath away.  

The elf asked Ithiren something, and then he was striding over to Dorian with the little halla in his arms, bleating pathetically with its unconcerned mother plodding dutifully along at a distance. “Look!” he cried softly, kneeling down in front of Dorian. There little thing was all legs and ears, and big dark eyes, and not much else in between.  

“It’s positively adorable,” Dorian said, not taking his eyes off Ciúin’s wonderstruck face.  

“He,” Ciúin corrected, “And you should stroke his forehead. For luck. I asked Ithiren and he said it was alright.”

Dorian frowned slightly, but set his book down and swivelled slowly off his rocky perch so that he had a better reach. “Is this some Dalish tradition of which I am, as usual, woefully ignorant?”

“Oh,” Ciúin smiled, “Yeah. The first person to stroke the place where the horns are going to grow is said to receive a blessing from Ghilan’nain.”  

Dorian’s heartbeat stuttered and he looked down at Ciúin and the gangly little fawn in his arms. “Ciúin,” he murmured, fingers retracting away. “I… Are you sure this is appropriate then?” He didn’t believe for a moment that if Ghilan’nain were real that she’d want a dirty Tevinter ‘shemlen’ putting his tainted hands all over her sacred creature.  

Ciúin’s lips hitched into a devastatingly lopsided smile. “Go on, he won’t bite you.”

“That wasn’t what…” Dorian grumbled. Feeling foolish, he reached out and gently petted the fawn’s head. It was remarkably soft, and when he touched its coat, the creature looked up at him and bleated joyfully. To his surprise, it floundered slightly in Ciúin’s arms, and raised its chin to expose more of its body to Dorian’s tickling fingers. It wiggled its little tail, waggled its oversized ears, and bleated merrily once more, and Dorian found himself chuckling. “Charming little thing, I suppose, aren’t you?” he said.  

And then he looked at Ciúin’s sparkling green eyes and all the breath left him as surely as if he’d been on the receiving end of a full battle-charge from the Iron Bull. He had never seen Ciúin looking so… innocent, so soft, so… young. Cross-legged, with a floundering halla in his lap, his hair falling softly out of its customary braid at the front, laughing, Ciúin looked carefree for the first time since Dorian had met him. He also looked more beautiful than Dorian could ever remember seeing him, and his mouth went very dry.  

“Yes, well,” he said, giving the halla a final chuck under the chin. “This is all very good and sweet and everything, but I was in the middle of dissecting this fascinating treatise on the decreased efficacy of various forms of Death Siphon in colder Southern climates…”

__

Ok, here's the second of the two asks I got about Ciúin thank you thank you thank you (His name is pronounced like 'queue-inn'). I've talked about him a fair bit before, but I'll do a new post now for the sheer, self-indulgent fun of it! Thank you.

He, like Lein, means a huge amount to me for all sorts of reasons not really related to the game itself, and he's one of the few characters of mine who really does live rent free in my head all the time. His story has had a few versions over the years, but here's my latest 'canon' version, as of 2021.

(I've also written for him before, and if you want a sfw angst-fluff-fest story with him and Dorian, you can read that here on my AO3) Also the immeasurably talented @hanatsuki89 drew him for me and you can find that here Alright, here he is. For tonight's other post with more photos, see this one.

And a close up (please ignore the horrible Skyhold pyjamas):

Ciúin is quiet, reserved, and a bit gruff, but he has an affectionate heart and will laugh freely around people he feels close to. Outside of the limitations of the game's hair options, he has very long, black hair that falls almost to his waist, and no side-shave.

He's actually a quarter Tevinter, with his grandfather being a low-ranking (now-disgraced) Tevinter magister, who fell in love with an elven slave and risked everything to free her instead of selling her when he fell on hard times in the Magisterium, and had to sell almost everything. She was taken in by Clan Lavellan, and her son was born a few months later. Ciúin tends to keep his heritage quiet on the whole, given the distrust in the South of Tevinter in general.

His half-elven father died when Ciúin was quite young, and he was sort of raised by everybody and nobody in the clan after that. He helped out where it was needed most, and slept alone near the halla most nights. He’s a spectacularly good rider and loved caring for the halla. His Red Hart mount with the Inquisition is called Conker.

He was an apprentice with the Clan's blacksmith (hence choosing June’s vallaslin, the Dalish god of craftsmen) before his magic developed quite late at the age of 14, at which point he reluctantly began to train with the Keeper in his spare time so that he didn’t lose control of his magic and hurt someone. He found he had to become her First when he was 19, since they had no other mage and he was pretty talented.

As is the case for many Dalish clans, his clan was attacked a fair bit by opportunistic humans, which made him wary of them, but they continued to trade and interact anyway. Unless his life depends on it, he rarely uses his magic (unlike Dorian, who will happily use it for everything), preferring to do things by hand. Vivienne finds this provincial and endearing, and Dorian is somewhat confused, but they can both see that Ciúin’s not going to change his ways…

He's panromantic and demisexual, and before he unwittingly falls for Dorian, he's only ever had one relationship.

More miscellaneous facts include:

His vallaslin (tattoos) go all the way down the centre of his chest, branching out towards his shoulders, and down over his hip bones as well. He also has a similar design to the one at the centre of his forehead going right up his spine, from the small of his back into his hairline. He will freely admit that the most painful bit to have done was his lip and throat.

Prefers savoury to sweet, and doesn't like fish

Hates ale and beer but enjoys liquors like brandy, elven fruit spirits, whisky, etc. He's a truly miserable drunk though, so it's best if he sticks to his limits.

Gets on really well with Bull and the Chargers, and ships Scout Harding and Professor Kenric really hard.

He's very, very unapologetically Elven about a lot of things, especially about his beliefs/religion, though respects people with different beliefs. For example, he admires that Dorian considers himself Andrastian while simultaneously loathing the hypocrisy of the Chantry and all it stands for.

Ciúin's 28 at the start of Inquisition

He's surprisingly nervous of mabari (who adore him, especially the one Cullen acquires in Trespasser), but he kind of wants to adopt one anyway

At Skyhold, he helps Blackwall with his carpentry projects - making June puzzles for the children of Skyhold - when he gets (or needs) a moment to himself. He can also be found in the forge quite a bit, making new weapons and armour for his friends in the Inquisition.

Can't cook. Don't ask him to. You'll get charred sludge.

Any more questions, please feel free to ask. I will literally talk about him (and Lein) until I keel over.

I'm also probably going to do some writing based on my gameplay, so if that's of interest (it'll be a 'Lavellan x Dorian' story with lots of plot and ambient description because it's me), please also feel free to let me know. If not, thank you for tolerating this long post about my Dalish elf.

^him scowl.

Well, here's Ciúin! This is the first of two Ciúin asks I got recently, and this is the first chance I've been able to pull my new screenshots off the PS4 and make a post.

If you're interested, there'll be a rather longer one where a kind anon took pity on me and asked me to talk more about Ciúin. But for now, I hope you like my rather serious looking Dalish elf mage.

“You funnelled me into this like deer on a hunt. You put me up on that stage in front of everyone like a puppet. You gave me no choice! Again!” he wept, tears steaming freely down his face. “I’ve never been so betrayed in my whole life; and not even when you made me Herald of some god I don’t believe in after the Conclave.”

He turned away but faltered, snarling out of the side of his mouth, “I played my part back there in front of everyone. I’ll keep doing it because the world needs it, but I won’t do it for you, alright? I won’t forget how you treated me like just another elven pawn in your shem games.”

He stalked away and let their precious ceremonial sword fall to the floor of the derelict great hall as if it had burned him. The clatter of blade on broken stone rang loud in their ears, and to his great relief he found that all four of them at least had the grace to stay behind.

Ciuin found his way to a secluded garden without quite knowing how he got there, catching a glimpse of Dorian as he fled the upper keep. The Tevinter mage had worn a complicated and inscrutable expression, but Ciuin did note the way he slowly shook his head while maintaining eye contact with the elf.

There was a message there, perhaps of support, but Ciuin was too hurt and too damned tired to decipher it fully.

___

I have a lot of feels about the way the inquisitor gains that title, especially Lavellans...