#maegick

Children are : innocent / wide eyed / curious about the world / guileless / endlessly thinking and imagining and hoping and she reminds him of himself, in a fashion —— but kinder. Untouched ( mostly ) by the horrors of Imperial society.

But she is a child who : wants to go home / wants her mother / wants to protect and defend and BECOME A BARRIER for the woman who spirited away from her home for her own good.

And she is a child who is asleep with her head deposited on his lap, lying in the bed that she normally shares with her mother and there is a book open on his free leg and he is caught between something dangerously tender and wondering : is this what happens to parents when their children fall asleep? they can’t move in fear of disturbing them?

——— It’s a valid fear, thank you very much.

Livia has been gone for days and beyond a week and beyond that, perhaps, and there is only so many explanations that he can give a small child of eight years old, too young to understand —— nonsense. Children understand far more than they are accredited for and he knows that she knows something. Anything. Too much, perhaps.

But there is a rustle just beyond and his attention is caught by the door opening and he tenses / ready for anything / ready to defend Octavia ( and himself, though mostly her ) to the death, if need be. Never mind that an assassin worth their salt would never simply use the primary entrance to a room when there’s a WINDOW just beside but one can never be too cautious. Especially when the mark is likely the child, sound asleep.

Yet when the door open it reveals her : HIS EX-BETROTHED / A WOMAN STRONGER THAN HE HAD ONCE THOUGHT ( there is some shame in how he had hated her once, in what she had represented, instead of understanding that SHE was as trapped as HE ) —— and Dorian doesn’t quite relax, no. You can never be too cautious. But some of the fight leaves his posture and where he had been half ready to stand, Octavia being asleep be damned. Now he is paused, suspended in motion and watching her and trying to glean —— something from her expression / posture / presence.

❝ ——— I take it you lived, then? ❞ a question ( hushed in the silence of the night with the wish not to disturb the child ) with two meanings : are you alright / are people dead?

“you know dorian, then?” she suspects there’s more there than dorian seems eager to let on and her inquiry had been deflected with one of the mage’s usual cool quips, hence the additional curiosity. she also suspects that mother giselle is all but tearing her hair out at the thought of another stranger from tevinter within the inqusition, but the reminder that she absolutely doesn’t care what mother giselle thinks follows immediately after. livia has been undeniably useful and, in her opinion, tremendously brave. (she’s always had a fondness for brave women, after all.) 

“it must be difficult, leaving everything behind,” she adds gently, thoughtfully, “i’m glad he’s here, at least, if you need someone familiar to speak with.” 

@maegick

Standing by the door.  Legs stuck.  I shouldn’t be here.  Light through chest that isn’t light, sick and dripping.  It tastes like blood when it rises up in her throat and she vomits into the expanse of sick surrounding her in all but perpetuity.  She will die here, if she hasn’t already, and not even notice.

Faye sees them with great frequency.  She rarely feels anything when she sees Bethy or Carver or Mother or Father.  She lets them kill her, when they try, but she always comes back breathing.  They are dead.  If they are here with here that is sick and awful but it is not a surprise.  But Averil.  Averil is different.  Averil should not be here, because Faye died so that she wouldn’t have to be.

I shouldn’t be here.  Her sister is watching her, lashes dark over her eyes.  Faye’s fingers curl and uncurl.  Averil shouldn’t be here.  Faye tells herself it’s an illusion the Fade has built for her; like the Carver that held her down within the ankle - deep water spilling into so much of this place, hands around her throat.  He’d had Father’s voice.  Averil isn’t here, but Faye’s chest lurches anyway.

Averil takes a step nearer, and another.  Faye cannot move to meet her.  Standing by the door.  Legs stuck.  Averil reaches her, dark eyes wide and aching — her lips part as though to speak but then draw closed.  She looks down.  Her hands tremble when they reach slowly for Faye ——— her body aches.  Faye’s ribs shudder and then go deadly still when Averil touches her shoulders.  Averil draws back as though afraid, then grasps at her.  Tugs her close.  Embraces her.

Faye is crying before she can so much as breathe.  It’s foolish, to want so badly --- to want this.  To want this to be real despite knowing it is not.  Her arms shake when they lift to grasp her sister and twist scarred fingers into the fabric of her clothing.  

Averil starts, “Faye, I love ------”

She is gone.  I shouldn’t be here.  There is nothing in the Champion’s arms, and she is alone, and she does not wake up.

Well, that’s easy. For him.

Dorian knows well that it’s hardly an obligation. Felix would laugh at him and be concerned in turns if he knew his intentions, but it feels blatantly WRONG to not do something. To burn a candle, to —— something. ( at least i haven’t started drowning myself in drink yet, felix. )

So there he is : standing amongst the fringes of the Skyhold garden, lurking in shadow. As if that makes him any less of a suspicious figure. There is a discomfort ( around his throat ) and he looks for someone who is vaguely familiar who, at the very least, will not look at him as if he killed a small animal in front of them. He stops her, as it happens, a vague remembrance of a woman in Haven, stricken looking. ❝ —— You’re something of a Chantry sister, no? ❞ bold assumption, arguably, but Dorian has always watched inasmuch as he has talked and he continues on nonetheless. ❝ Does the chapel have any candles to spare? ❞

 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏   :   𝒅𝒐   𝒚𝒐𝒖   𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓   𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕   𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔   𝒊𝒔   ?   ask   him   a   year   ago   and   he   would   have   had   an   answer.   it   would   have   fallen   from   his   lips   without   hesitation   ,   without   thought.   there   was   little   he   had   ever   been   certain   about   ,   but   he   had   known   this.   no.

 he   knew   what   it   was   ,   that   he’d   had   it   once.   some   distant   memory   ,   forgotten   feeling   ,   lingered   at   the   back   of   his   mind   ,   tied   to   simpler   times.   he   had   become   pain   and   suffering   ,   with   brief   moments   of   reprieve   ,   but   never   true   ,   unbridled   happiness.   ten   years   was   a   long   time   to   not   experience   something.   with  his   luck   ,   his   track   record   ,   he   had   been   convinced   he   would   never   be   given   the   chance   to   experience   it   again.   one   and   done.

 it   was   another   night   like   every   other   one.   he   had   helped   gisèle   care   for   the   children   in   the   inquisition   and   then   they   had   managed   to   find   a   table   at   the   herald’s   rest   ,   just   the   two   of   them   ,   falling   into   easy   and   relaxed   conversation   like   they   always   did.   nothing   was   particularly   special   about   it.   it   was   just   that   ,   as   she   smiled   at   something   stupid   he   said   ,   he   remembered   what   it   felt   like.  

 it   wasn’t   a   momentous   realisation   ,   like   taking   a   breath   of   air   after   being   trapped   underwater   ,   but   slowly   waking   up   ,   and   recognising   that   the   sun   had   risen.   it   was   second   nature   to   lean   in   then   and   press   his   lips   to   hers   and   ,   like   every   single   time   before   ,   his   heart   skipped   a   beat.   

 ❝   you   know   ,   uh   —   ❞   his   voice   was   soft   as   his   lips   left   hers   and   he   leaned   back   ,   one   hand   resting   on   her   shoulder.   it   was   a   little   awkward   and   the   lopsided   grin   that   touched   his   mouth   next   was   strangely   apprehensive.   ❝   you’re   not   too   bad   to   be   around.   ❞

late nights

four headcanons // meme cache // @maegick  

in the case of LADY ISABEAU, of the Honourable House of Lemieux, in concern to VARRIC TETHRAS —

i. There are not many people that Varric has the need to protect with an instinctual and familiar need, but Beau is one of them. 

It started back in Haven, and when he saw her cry at Skyhold, he simply didn’t want to ever see that happen again. He offered her a place back in Kirkwall if she so needed one after the events of Inquisition come to their own apex, and makes her officially part of his household if she so takes him up on that offer. 

He does in fact question himself on this kindness that he has seem to muster within himself, but people without family stir something within him, and truly he doesn’t want anyone to suffer or be alone if they don’t have to, and sometimes that want comes off fatherly. 

ii. As stated above, Isabeau does have her own title, but if she does choose to follow Varric back to Kirkwall, she can choose to title herself with the colours and styles of the Tethras name.

These styles allot her peerage within Kirkwall and privilege within the Tethras family. It is not the first time that someone within his family has done something so unorthodox, for his first cousin on his father’s side was married to a Magister and held titles within two families. However, it is the first time that the head of the family has offered any style to an outsider.

This is the fancy way of saying, if Beau asked --- Varric would adopt her.

iii. Varric writes to Beau and cares for her where-ever she may go. 

If she chose to continue her work within the Chantry and made the choice to not join him in Kirkwall, Varric would maintain the position that Kirkwall would always be there for her if she ever needed a home and that he would help Beau with whatever she may need in her life. 

Such as if she was stationed at a small Chantry with less fortunate parishioners and they needed something for the people, Varric would always be someone that Beau could turn to.