#dagna week

Okay, it's Dagna Week and though I've been diligently looking in her tag, I've seen very little to queue up. So I decided to poke around AO3 and see what I could find.

The Romantic Adventures of Florian Phineas Horatio Aldebrant, Esquire Finn/Dagna, very cute, even silly at points (I mean, it's FINN). A fun read, with the bonus of some Ancient Tevene conjugations (I like that kind of stuff ok).

Dragon Age Alphabet - Dagna A complete alphabet, also complete with Dagna/Sigrun. :3

The Satinalia Gift Finn/Dagna, with the customary diabeetus. (Why are these two so cute?)

She's adorable, she's determined, and Warden willing, she makes it to the Circle after all (and according to a certain DA:I spoiler, she has likely gotten to be quite successful!). Our favourite dwarf lady with a mission takes the spotlight for the next seven days.

Tag with #dragon age fan week, #dafw, and/or #dagna week for easy rebloggination.

Finn reached for one book after another, trying to find the shining bit of knowledge that would steady his nerves. Irving had been particularly friendly lately, and he didn't like what that portended; they were probably going to Harrow him soon.

Kinnon had passed, sure, and so had Anders, and really if Anders could survive it mustn't be that hard. But then Neria had disappeared right after her Harrowing, and Jowan had just plain disappeared, and Finn thought he really didn't want to be Harrowed. He didn't want to be Tranquil either. He just wanted to sit in his library and read books and practice harmless little spells that never threatened to tear holes in the Fade, thank you very much. He didn't see why he had to change.

Finn sighed. The Templars had done a very thorough job of hiding any useful information on the ritual, so he settled for his favorite collection of Tevinter poetry. The flowery sonnets were both obscure and calming, but they had nothing to do with magic. Likely the person who had gifted it to the Tower did not understand ancient Arcanum.

"Nai sapie marche amorlud lusciniad inter deil dentis." The cheerful voice startled him out of his reverie, and the book slipped out of his hand and fell to the ground.

Finn clutched at his heart. Then he turned and, looking down, came face to face with the curviest elf he had ever seen. Then he noticed her ears were not pointed and he thought she might be... a child? A very, very well developed child. He pulled his eyes back up to her face and squinted.

She seemed to sense his confusion. "I'm a dwarf," she explained.

"Bless you!" he said, before realizing that she hadn't sneezed but actually told him her species. She laughed, and his face colored. "Sorry, I've never met a dwarf before," he mumbled. He thought dwarves were supposed to be muscular and surly with hair everywhere, and not pretty girls with freckles and pigtails. He retrieved his book from the floor, checking the delicate leather for damage, and looked at her curiously. "You can read this?"

"No. I just like the way it sounds. I didn't think anyone could read it. I tried to ask the elf with the fuzzy cape, but she told me—" The dwarf stopped short, and then she giggled and extended a small hand. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name is Dagna, pleased to meet you."

"Finn." He shook her hand and felt a strange numbness, like casting lightning into a rubber ball. He frowned. "I'm sorry but... why are you here? Dwarves can't do magic."

"Nope, I can't, but I'm not about to let a thing like that stop me." Dagna smiled brightly and hugged her arms around her chest. "I just love everything about magic. How it's powered by dreams, and it can do so many different things. Good things, and evil things, and beautiful things, and completely crazy things." She sighed wistfully. "Even if I can't ever do it myself, I've always wanted to learn about it."

Finn stared at her and time stood still. People always told him he was crazy when he told them that he wanted to learn about things with absolutely no practical application. Arcanum is for dead people, Finn, why don't you learn Orlesian? Or Don't bother studying Eluvians, they've all been destroyed. Finn had thought he was alone. Suddenly his tiny universe expanded to include one other person, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

"What's wrong? Do I have something in my teeth?" Dagna covered her mouth with her hand and glanced off to the side. "Stupid surfacer vegetables..."

"No, I was just thinking..." Dagna looked up at him, and Finn swallowed the lump in his throat. He said, "You don't know you crush love's nightingale between your teeth."

That must have sounded peculiar, he realized too late. Finn winced when her brows shot up and she looked at him sideways. "Huh?"

"The poem you quoted before. That's what it means." He held his book a little tighter. "Tevinters love to mix metaphor. There really isn't anything between your teeth. Certainly not a nightingale of love." He laughed nervously. "And of course I don't mean you, personally. Just the poetic you."

"Oh," Dagna said. She titled her head to the side.

And then Irving chose that moment, of all times, to show up and tap him on the shoulder. Finn turned and his heart sank. Behind him, Greagoir was fixing him with his signature stoic glare, and Finn was pretty sure he knew what that meant.

"We're ready for you upstairs," the First Enchanter said, rather ominously, and Finn felt his blood go cold.

Great. Just his luck, he was probably going to die in the Harrowing Chamber, and Dagna would go to his funeral and think, oh that's so sad, the ninny who told me I had a bird in my mouth is dead.

There were many things about surface life that Dagna found hard to adjust to. Some she had anticipated. The enormous sky looming overhead was not a surprise, although the first time Dagna had walked under its vast openness she'd emptied her breakfast on the Grey Warden's boots. Some she had not. The way the wind blew her loose notes from her open satchel, for instance, which had caused a half a day delay while the Warden's companions chased down her coveted research notes with much resentful grumbling. But Dagna was nothing if not a quick study, and as the days passed on their journey from Orzammar to the Tower, Dagna learned not to look above the horizon and to keep her notes bound with string unless indoors.

But by the stone, she had never had anticipated how noisy the surface would be. Between birds squawking overhead and chirping insects at night, it seemed like the surface was never silent. And without the buffering of solid rock, sound carried across distances in surprising ways. Conversations or activities that should have remained private, such as the noises the apostate witch made on the nights the Grey Warden visited her tent, were constantly assaulting Dagna's oversensitive ears.

So it was no surprise when she awoke one morning to the sounds of a private conversation. However, this time the conversation was about her.

A letter of notification to the dwarf 'Dagna' found in the First Enchanter's outgoing box. Obviously he meant to send this before the Battle of Ostagar.

Dagna,

While bathing is different at the Circle, it is no doubt as efficient as the steam-powered vents your Paragon Harlem created all those centuries ago. It does require more work, however. While I am pleased by your enthusiasm, I cannot say that it is my place to spell it out step-by-step, so I shall give you an overview.

Bathing here at the Circle does require patience, for we have so many living here. Due to the overcrowding of mages you must understand privacy is quite limited. So far we have been forced to separate the older Mages and Enchanters by gender and age to keep embarrassment to a minor level and that has worked well so far. As with the Apprentices, we assign them into gender-specific swimming groups at different intervals. The swimming encourages an Apprentice to breath and develop their constitution for the trials ahead, but it works wonders for getting them cleaned up.

As per your question regarding the disposal of fecal matter, have no worry. Every night the assigned Mage or Enchanter gathers up the disposables and pours it into the fire pit in the center of the courtyards, then sets it alight with his magic. Through a combination of spells we allow no toxic fumes to pollute our air and breathing space, and once the matter is burned no trace of the smell remains.

I hope this answers your more latest questions and I am looking foreword to your return post.

Yours,