this is a very specific question !! so i’m gonna keep it here instead of doing the new post thing! but anyways… it has definitely always been a problem for merrill, even more so in her clan. merrill is someone who often thinks outside the box, and thinks BIG, this – scared the keeper, and she would often talk merrill down from these idea by belittling her. the keeper believed merrill was extremely intelligent, and yet she was threatened by it – and much like with many other aspects of merrill, decided to keep them undeveloped; and, for the longest time went unnoticed. 

i don’t think merrill quite understood what was happening until she was a bit older, i’m thinking more in her teenage years where she starts to grow a bit more defiant and aware of her treatment; and specifically i think she’d notice it in an argument where merrill knows she’s right. either because it’s something she’s seen with her own eyes or just something she knows i’m not sure, but the keeper challenging her and trying to convince her otherwise would be that realization to what she’s been doing all along. and i would think this would be the birth of merrill’s bitterness towards the keeper. i think, once she’s out of the clan and in kirkwall, she was hoping to be free from that kind of behavior – especially when among the group hawke has managed to create. merrill was naive enough to think them all like hawke (i always go based on a purple hawke), but she finds quickly that just because hawke had chosen them for a team doesn’t mean she is immediately accepted. this is where i think you’d see her standing up to it and for herself more often. when merrill is away from the clan, and more importantly the keeper, she feels a lot better about fighting for herself. especially since these people do not have the same “fear factor” that the keeper has, at least not to her. 

as for doing anything to prevent it? i can definitely see merrill attempting to change her look or the way she talks in attempt to make herself seem a bit more… mature. but eventually she’d find it too silly and too difficult to maintain. she rather be herself, and try to hold her head high than be someone she’s not. 

self-perception is…a hard one to answer. because there’s times where it doesn’t affect merrill at all, but merrill is also extremely sensitive and you tell her something long enough she’ll start to believe it. i don’t see her self perception changing too much unless she spends a lot (and i mean a lot) of personal time with someone who treats her that way. so, the da:ii team, for example? doesn’t effect her too much as she does have some allies within it (hawke, varric, isabela) – but then it hurts even more when they do it. but she doesn’t spend like…every waking moment with them so its a lot harder to change it. now, if it was a red hawke – and like everyone was telling her these things? yea, she’d believe it. it really depends on her environment and who’s around her. i hope that answers that part??

as for her perception of the people who do it – she’ll think them silly and close-minded. unable to accept the different, and stubborn, in a bad way. but she’ll always think you can learn. 

I’d say both. I do headcanon Vivienne as having musical as well as magical talents, specifically I’ve written her as knowing how to play the harp, and I do think that she would know how to play the piano if they even exist in Thedas yet. Lutes were one of the most popular instruments of the renaissance period, and so I could see her picking it up, as well, especially given the harp she plays would be a concert harp too large and cumbersome to bring to Skyhold, although she may end up with one there, eventually.

Lutes show up in a lot of paintings across European art history, often made to create a merry atmosphere. Generally portraits would have all sorts strewn around, globes for travellers (or conquerors), pearls for purity, to represent the subject’s interests and accomplishments. Lutes and other musical interests could symbolise, obviously, musical talent, but also potentially the brevity of life and the inevitability of death depending on the nature or purpose of the painting.

"The Gallows are a grim sight." In that respect, they held true to their builder's vision. He had no clue what Circles looked like in other places. Perhaps they were more cheerful. They couldn't be more grim, he was certain. "Must be a far cry from the Circle in Orlais, right?"  --- @gracebroken​

Avexis adjusted the basket on her arm, relieved to be allowed just outside of the Circle’s confines so that she may purchase goods from the stalls that have set up more and more often. Though she supposes it’s not too much of a danger considering the various Templars and recruits that are scattered about the grounds. There’s a new recruit that she hadn’t gotten the chance to speak much to --- the fraternization laws much more strictly enforced in the Free Marches. 

“Not so much as one might think.” Her cheeks feel hot with surprise but Avexis recovers quickly. She’s proud of the circle she came from and the mages that comprise it, but seeing the injustices committed in Kirkwall’s circle forced her to address the similarities she’d tried her hardest to ignore. 

“Long ago The White Spire served as a fortress to the founder of the Chantry, Emperor Drakon I, which sounds prestigious but in reality means it is in need of terrible renovation.” Her mind flashes to the floors of abandoned and decrepit dungeons. “The Templar order is housed on the top floors overlooking the city...meanwhile the mages are restricted to the middle levels...” 

it was better when they had the helmet on. monstrosity hidden makes itself known in the crooked curve of lips and eyes cold. no need for spoken words, for there’s familiarity in it all, no need for the rough touch where metal digs and punctures against the thin fabric of robes. you’re a dead mage walking. 

you aren’t safe here.

( ease comes with the bloom of mottled colours against skin. pain strikes and there’s a hunger that pierces. you’re bound. tied like an animal ready for the slaughterhouse - but you’re safe, you see it in the anger and irritation, you see it in the way they speak, the way they know that you’re merely being brought back home ). 

chill continues, sharp seep like needles that slip beneath your skin, it forms in mind: flaming sword and metal. shift of helm and there you see the demon’s eyes and there is a single word: consume.

wake with a start - if you can call it that. you can’t sleep well. not with the way their hands fall so naturally to their sword. not with the way they seem to stand, to walk, to pace. to circle you like a predator. watch and wait and there’s disgust that comes with healing hands.

justice helps, but he feels it too. 

quiet, spirit - don’t let them hear you nearly say where you sense the lick of anger that wells with questions asked of mage’s plight. this is the real world, spirit you tell him - though your smile does not hide the anger you have. he sees it in the way you tremble ever so slight, the way your fists curl and brows knit and a snarl is merely pulled back. 

i can help you, he offers. 

demon. monster. abomination. your heart near stops and familiarity comes in the ache of your head. stagger and stumble and three words flash hot: judge. jury. executioner. 

today you die, they tell you but strength wells within. because you are not a brother. you are not a warden. you are maleficar - always and forever. permission to live denied and the sword comes as follow through. 

no. 

stand because you must defy. fight, because you know nothing else. 

no.

“Guess so.” She replies, slightly evasive. The tall man is…intimidating, to say the least. So perhaps her meekness will be excused. But he seems like he’s trying to be friendly… 

“It’s, em…” Ears angle against her head as words fail her, thoughts jumbling together like the city streets she now walks daily. Numbers jump into her head, first, even if she doesn’t have precise words for them. Nothing but ‘more’– more than her clan, more than the arlathvhen she’d attended as a girl. She had grown up knowing to be Dalish is not typical, that they are the last, their numbers few, but seeing it is another matter. “It’s a bit difficult to put into words.”

“Ah–” Well, shoot; he’s been caught. It could be worse! It could have been a Templar that caught him, but it’s just his brother. It would have been better if it was Bethy that caught him, but Carver catching him wasn’t the worst. Probably, anyways. Hopefully he didn’t tell mom.

“Well, hm. How do you ride a horse?” He spreads his hands out in front of him, flexing his fingers as he peers at Carver through them. He smiles, but it’s sort of an awkward thing. Sometimes Carver was hard to read, with his too serious face, and squared posture. “Badly, at first, right? Because you kinda know what you wanna do, but you don’t know how.” He curls his hands into fists, feeling muscles bunch and shift, and his world begins to lose color. “So you keep gettin’ on, even if you fall and it hurts, because you wanna be good at it. So you just keep? Trying, I guess.” He breathes in, flavors and smells that a human shouldn’t grasp bombarding him as bones pop and fur grows. He’s not as big as dad’s mabari when he shifts, but he’s not fully grown! He still drops to all fours with a heavy huff and is big enough he doesn’t need to stand up to lick at Carver’s hand. He’s still awkward, looking like an overgrown puppy, with dish sized paws and ears that flop. An intact tail wags behind him as he presses close to his brother and… promptly shoulder checks him right off his feet.

     “I’m sure you’re asking yourself, ‘what happened here?’” Inara coughs as she lays there on the floor, where she’s fallen through the ceiling of the little barn covered in dust and blood and... so much hay. She clears her throat, sitting up and instantly regretting the movement, but groaning and rolling over onto her side to push herself up because she’s not a quitter. 

     “Well. Let me tell you. There is a--” the shriek that comes from the upstairs probably fills in the gap that follows as she looks up. If that doesn’t, the other Warden’s head that peeks down to yell, ‘It’s still alive!’ might do it. “--incident,” Inara finishes anyway. “Happening. Up there.”