#killian tabris

Killian Tabris: Starts Demon, ends Legend: Chaotic Neutral

Amelia Hawke: Starts Trickster, ends Legend: Chaotic Neutral to True Neutral

Mahanon Lavellan: Starts Angel, ends Golden Dragon: Lawful Good to Neutral Good

I'm probably not going to finish either of these today so here are a couple wips for the @14daysdalovers day 4 prompt: Candlelight.

"Can I get you a ladder? So you can get off my back!"

Early Life

Born 9:07 Dragon to Cyrion and Adaia Tabris. Many remark that while the boy had his father's looks he carried his mother's spirit. He was a mischievous and curious child and earned a reputation as a proficient pickpocket. Adaia realized early he would benefit from learning to fight, not just to defend himself but as a way to direct his endless energy.

Killian Tabris, Loretta Cousland and Akroma Amell

Killian: I'm not funny, I'm just really mean and people think I'm joking.

***

Killian: You seem familiar... have I threatened you before?

***

Killian: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

***

Alistair: When I first met you, I did not like you.

Killian: I'm aware of that.

Alistair: But then you and I spent some time together.

Killian: Uh-huh?

Alistair: It did not get better.

***

Alistair: How stupid do you think I am?!

Killian: You really want an honest answer to that?

***

Alistair: Did you have to stab them?

Killian: You weren’t there. You didn’t hear what they said to me.

Alistair: What did they say?

Killian: "What are you going to do, stab me?"

Zevran: No. He's right. That’s fair.

***

Killian: We either die free, or die trying!

Zevran: Are those the only choices?

***

Killian: I'm gonna need a human skull but you can't ask any questions.

Zevran: Only if you also don't ask any questions.

Zevran: *pulls four pristine human skulls out of their bag*

Killian: ...

Killian, grabbing a skull: This one will do.

***

Zevran: Killian, my friend, you're an asshole.

Killian: You are what you eat Zevran.

***

Killian: I need to dye my hair.

Zevran: ...

Killian: Or get another tattoo.

Zevran: ...

Killian: Or a new piercing.

Zevran: Why?

Killian: To, you know, appease the mental breakdown gods.

***

Morrigan: You’re an idiot.

Killian: That’s the charm.

***

Morrigan: Can you cut me some slack, Killian? I’m sort of in love.

Killian: I’m sorry, but that’s really not my problem.

Morrigan: I’m in love with you.

Killian: Yeah... That still sounds like a you problem.

***

Morrigan: I still have no idea how I’m attracted to you...

Killian: Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, and no take backs, babe.

***

Alistair: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Morrigan: I'm a knife.

Killian, from across the room: She's the little spoon.

***

Killian: Morrigan, you do remember when we agreed we were better off as friends, right?

Morrigan, naked in Killian's bed: No, I absolutely do not.

Killian, already taking off his clothes: Fuck... Me neither.

***

Leliana: So I have made the decision to trust you.

Killian: A horrible decision, really.

***

Leliana: Killian, this morning, I called you abhorrent and reprehensible, and I’d like to withdraw that statement-

Killian: Aww, thanks-

Leliana: But I can't. Those are the two words that best describe you.

***

Leliana: How are you today?

thanks for the lovely prompt! Some Leliana x Killian Tabris <3

@dadrunkwriting

--

“Andraste’s mercy!” her shout is breathy and surprised, accompanied by a startled jump and then cheeks flushed to blushing. As Leliana jumps, so does Killian, a hand quick to their belt and then quickly at ease again as they turn to see her. It’s dim in the fading firelight, and perhaps it is only a trick of the shadows, but their face looks drawn, mouth curled downward and eyes sunken in. “I thought everyone was asleep,” Leliana lowers her voice for the apology, and regains her breath. 

Killian settles too, back to where they were, their back turned as they slump into their log by the dying fire, staring into the ash. “Couldn’t sleep.” they say.

Leliana takes a few steps forward. A large waterskin sits out on the wide rock they’ve been using as a table in this camp, and as Leliana moves to fill her own small flask from it, she realises that she didn’t wake up because she was thirsty. She didn’t know why she was awake at all, suddenly in the dark of night, and she’d laid in her tent unable to put her mind to rest until she had decided that there was a tickle in her throat, and that perhaps after a stretch of her legs and a drink her dreams would be able to return. Now she wonders if in her slumber she’d heard Killian stir, though the elf is always silent as a fantom wherever they go.

Leliana examines Killian’s face out of the corner of her eye as she takes a drink; there’s a wet glint on their cheeks and gritted teeth behind the frown. She moves closer still, and drops lightly to a seat beside them; perhaps she was simply meant to rouse from her dreams. 

“Have you been having more nightmares?” she asks, gently. Killian has often muttered and cried out in their sleep. More often than Alistair does, and sometimes their shouts seem to be about things far removed from archdemons and darkspawn hordes; a woman’s name, or desperate calls for a mother Leliana knows is long lost. She fears that they’re the same sorts of bad dreams she’s known, and at the same time, feels all the more drawn to Killian for them. Perhaps, she thinks again, she was supposed to wake up. 

Killian swallows and does not speak, which says enough. 

“When I was a child and could not fall asleep, my mother would sing for me.” she says, daring a hand to caress Killian’s knee. Her hand makes it halfway before Killian stops it with one of their own, and holds it. “There was one in particular that could always bring me peace, no matter how scared I was.” 

Killian bends to her, resting their head on her shoulder as a quiet sigh exits their lungs to join the smoky dark. 

“I could sing it for you,” she offers in a whisper, “if it could help you to sleep.” 

“Sing for me,” Killian repeats; not a request, not even agreement — disbelief and their usual bravado, but cowed by tired posture and unspoken grief. Leliana passes a hand through Killian’s soft hair at her shoulder, and the elf hums. 

“We all benefit from a well-rested leader, you know.” Leliana offers the consideration again with a light touch. Into her shoulder, Killian nods.  

Leliana sings in barely a whisper, the words flowing in breathy notes from her lips directly into Killian’s ear. It is a simple song, familiar and sad; beautifully longing, and it makes her think of her mother in a way that is much the same.