#d.a.o.

Well shit I didn’t actually think to write down any of them lmfao. A warning: I’m tipsy, so this might be difficult to keep up with.

I headcanon that Alistair talks in his sleep, beyond just Taint nightmares. It’s not uncommon for everyone to be gathered around the fire before they just hear, “But Leliana, the dog already ate my soup” or “Andraste’s sweet assets that’s a lot of butterflies.” Most of it is ridiculous or unintelligible, and it’s not unusual for everyone to laugh at what he says. 

But it’s not all ridiculous. Mireena (my Tabris/Cousland (Queen elf, haven’t worked it out yet)) has heard some of the darker ones since she’s developed insomnia due to the Taint. “Please, Isolde, I just want to warm myself by the fire, it’s so cold.” “But Mother Valana, it’s just too quiet. I miss the dogs.” And then the most heart wrenching was one night, several years after they became rulers of Fereldan. The bad dreams had been on the outs by then, but she was painting by the light of the dying fire when she heard him tossing and turning. 

The hour is easily the wee morning, still several hours from dawn yet. The paint glides easily across the canvas, still far from perfect but showing much improvement since she had taken up the art form three years ago. The embers of the fire are warm by her side, just bright enough yet to give her light to see. The castle is silent still, save the occasional grunt and snore from her husband across the room. She casts him a loving glance before returning to her work. It is raining outside, now, working up to a storm. She can feel the electricity tickling the back of her neck before the first strike of lightning passes, and a broad grin settles into her face. Painting abandoned, she crosses the room to their balcony and stands just barely still protected from the falling water. There is another crack of lightning and for a brief moment, she can see the rooftops of her city, see the hint of mountains in the distance of her kingdom. Her hands wrap around herself as she watches the rain patter against the stone railing, and she sways as if to music. 

“Please, no.” 

Her movements still, and she turns towards the sound, her long ears twitching in that direction. “Al?” she calls softly. He shifts, his movement agitated and twitching. Her skirts lift easily in her hands as she rushes to his side. “Alistair?” 

There is pain across his face, his eyes screwed tightly shut. His breath comes hitched and shuddering as his hands clench and unclench. “No,” he repeats. 

Mireena sighs softly and moves to sit in bed beside him. “I’m here, my love,” she whispers. It has been some time since nightmares plagued his sleep, months now it seems. 

He turns into her warmth, presses his face into her hip, grasps her skirt tightly in a strong hand. “Mireena,” he whispers. 

A hand settles on his head, brushes his hair with gentility and love. “Yes, I’m here.” 

Her touches seem to have little effect because he continues to twitch, his unoccupied hand still clenching into a fist. He growls, a deep and guttural sound that sings only of agony, and he turns from her violently, his breath heavy. “NO!” he shouts. 

Her chestnut eyes widen. “Hey, hey,” she coos trying to stroke his arm. “It’s o--” 

“I will not let you take her! Not again!” he screams. 

Ice fills her veins as memories of the archdemon come flooding back, flashing before her eyes as if she were watching a mage manipulate fire into moving pictures. The way it stared her down, its screech as loud in her ear as if it were in the room with her, the way her blade had felt as it drove into its head, the pain that flooded her body as the Taint fought to be ripped from her blood. She’d said goodbye, made her peace with the idea that Morrigan’s ritual had not worked, had been ready to die. They’d thought she was dead, at first. She opened her eyes to find Alistair sobbing over her, clutching her to his chest as screams of agony tore from his throat, sounding more like a wounded dog than a man. 

“Alistair, I am fine, I am here, beside you--” she reaches out to touch him, but he flinches so sharply from her touch that he disappears over the side of the bed. She follows quickly on her hands and knees, looking down to find him breathless, eyes open and flickering back and forth across the room, trying to establish his surroundings. “M-Mireena?” he calls, voice cracked so sharply it brings tears to her eyes. 

He sits up when he sees her brown curls poking over the bed, and she slips quickly and smoothly down to the floor into his awaiting arms. The way he holds her is different than a nightmare. The way his hands clutch her tightly, his muscles tensed around her, his face in her neck as he cries openly and unabashed. 

It is the same as when he thought her dead. 

Freecad : la découverte continue.

Je continue donc ma découverte de FreeCAD.

Aujourd’hui, j’ai décidé de modéliser une fermette et d’utiliser ensuite le module FEM de FreeCAD : Cela permet de visualiser des efforts. Voici quelques copies d’écran.

Voila, il ne me reste plus qu’à “pondre” le tuto.