#felavellan

Small Tyrannies

A Felassan/Lavellan/Solas longfic set in Ancient Arlathan on the historical eve of revolution.

Ancient Elvhenan sits on the precipice of great change, rebellion simmers and gods stretch their reach for power ever further. Solas, Lavellan and Felassan are drawn together from the corners of Arlathan by a common purpose of resistance and a growing mutual love. But a rebellion cannot be built on dreams alone and each of them have their own tyrannies to face.

Chapter 8: On the Hunt

Ghilara’s eyes were crusted from sleep as she blinked blearily in the early morning light. She could feel the warmth of Compassion curled at her back, his heels brushing against the backs of her calves. “Mmm,” she groaned, “morning.” She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes only to startle fully awake when she realised where she was. And that it was not Compassion sleeping at her back. “Sleeping,” Felassan grumbled, impervious to her sudden realisation of where she was, and perhaps more importantly, who it was behind her. And yet… it wasn’t entirely unpleasant either. His long hair tickled at her ear where she had half rolled onto it, and his torso was pleasantly firm- lithe enough but muscled enough to not be bony and uncomfortable. It was nice, she thought, wanting to drift back into sleep with that warmth at her back.

Felassan

Felassan gave me some trouble as ive never drawn him before and welll amoras nose lol, she has their fathers nose 😭👌🤣

Daylins 'little' sister is taller than her, also bustier rip 🤣

Daylin is 4'11 with roughly a B cup and Amora is 5'6 with a D cup

Small Tyrannies

A Felassan/Lavellan/Solas longfic set in Ancient Arlathan on the historical eve of revolution.

Ancient Elvhenan sits on the precipice of great change, rebellion simmers and gods stretch their reach for power ever further. Solas, Lavellan and Felassan are drawn together from the corners of Arlathan by a common purpose of resistance and a growing mutual love. But a rebellion cannot be built on dreams alone and each of them have their own tyrannies to face.

Chapter 7: The Journey Begins

Felassan met Ghilara by the stables. She was the perfect image of the obedient slave, dressed very scantily, in flowing robes that were practically sheer, gathered up so tight that one wrong move and something would slip most indecently. Nudity wasn’t uncommon in Arlathan, with most having few compunctions about showing off their bodies. But choice was important. He was sure Ghilara, handsome as she was, had dealt with more than her fair share of leering masters and nobles. Felassan made certain to keep his eyes firmly on her face, though he did find himself slipping to appreciate the thick muscles of her shoulders and arms. He couldn’t help but imagine her picking him up, thick arms wrapping around him and carrying him. Would she be able to carry him, or would- No. Bad thoughts, Felassan scolded himself, for all the good that it did.

I was tagged by @virshiral! (Took me some time but we're here posting it now haha)

From an upcoming chapter of my Arlathan Solas/Felassan/Ghilara Lavellan longfic >:]

“Do you think it’s a good idea or are you really thinking that I’m an absolute idiot?” Felassan joked with a smile. “Ghilara, you don’t just have to say yes or agree with everything that I say. You know more about these woods than I do. Am I being an utter idiot?” Ghilara looked up at him, a smile teasing at the corners of her lips. He realised with a sudden crash that she had slight dimples in her cheeks. “It’s a good idea.” “You promise? You promise you’re not just tending to my ego? I promise it is already very well sized.” Don’t make an innuendo about that, don’t make an innuendo about that, he begged to himself and his stupid mouth. Don’t make an innuendo, don’t- oh hell, “it has to compensate for other things you see.” Well shit. Ghilara, however, laughed out loud at that. No, not a laugh. She giggled. She giggled like a woman without the weight of the world on her shoulders, and oh Felassan wanted to hear it again. “You shouldn’t laugh at my jokes, lethallan, it will only encourage me.” Felassan could have sworn then that she looked him up and down, biting her lip to try and hold in her laughter. “Maybe I want to encourage you,” she said at last, meeting his eyes, with an expression no longer completely light-hearted. For just that moment, there was something far heavier in her gaze.

Small Tyrannies

A Felassan/Lavellan/Solas longfic set in Ancient Arlathan on the historical eve of revolution.

Ancient Elvhenan sits on the precipice of great change, rebellion simmers and gods stretch their reach for power ever further. Solas, Lavellan and Felassan are drawn together from the corners of Arlathan by a common purpose of resistance and a growing mutual love. But a rebellion cannot be built on dreams alone and each of them have their own tyrannies to face.

Chapter 4: A Night on the Town

Ghilara looked up at Dev with a frown. “I didn’t order this.” He inclined his head down the other end of the bar where a man was sitting, nursing his own drink. He was relatively tall with olive skin and long dark hair that flowed loose down past his shoulders, somewhat mussed. Mythal’s slave markings ran over his forehead, cheekbones and down over his lower lip. She raised an eyebrow at him, to which he just raised his glass in an informal toast, not moving from his seat, staying perched on the barstool like a kingfisher on a riverside branch. He had the kind of expression that was laid back, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Though she couldn’t help but glimpse at something underneath. Maybe it was the glint in his eye or the tilt of his grin, but there was something there- wit or shrewdness perhaps. Something that pulled her curiosity in for a closer look. She was waiting anyway, she reasoned, might as well amuse herself while she was at it. He was easy on the eyes, she thought, eyes running over his exposed forearms where they pressed against the bar top. She shrugged internally and walked over, leaning against the bar where he was sitting, drink in hand. “So, what is it that you want?” She asked, eyeing him over the top of her drink. “Who says I want anything?” “Why else buy me this?” She asked, swirling the drink in her hand for emphasis, teasing it in front of him like a cat with a feather.

Small Tyrannies

A Felassan/Lavellan/Solas longfic set in Ancient Arlathan on the historical eve of revolution.

Ancient Elvhenan sits on the precipice of great change, rebellion simmers and gods stretch their reach for power ever further. Solas, Lavellan and Felassan are drawn together from the corners of Arlathan by a common purpose of resistance and a growing mutual love. But a rebellion cannot be built on dreams alone and each of them have their own tyrannies to face.

Chapter 3: Felassan's Very Bad No Good Day

Felassan arrived at the estate with little fanfare for a general in the All-Mother’s army. Not that he probably even was that any more, he thought, glaring down at his leg where one of Anaris’ champions had just about flayed it open with a barbed maul. It would heal in time. Probably. The spirit healers had gotten the open wounds fully sealed back up within a few days, but there was nothing they could do about the lingering weakness in his muscle and joint. Still, it hadn’t stopped him from riding in on Shessan. The poor hart had been stuck on the back lines for so long, she deserved a proper chance to stretch her legs. Even if it meant his injured leg was hurting like a bitch. They’d had to go through the city proper of Alast’Din to get to the estate, which sat a few hours ride away. Where the city of Alast’Din was built as part of the mountains, the estate was built as part of the forest. You could tell you were getting close, not because the trees began to clear, but because they began to change. Their branches took on the shapes of finely detailed statues of a cloaked figure bearing the face of an owl with a seven pointed crown upon its head. Felassan didn’t begrudge Falon’Din his depiction like that. Felassan had seen the Evanuris, and he had looked like an owl about to throw up a pellet. Felassan would do the same if he had a face like that.