#selves

You're not doomscrolling, you're hopequesting.

You need those tiny pieces of joy from seeing friends and strangers share their art, their good news, their wacky unique selves.

We need light to live.

Because Ameridan already knew the ways of the world of his time. The demands of the role. And now he knows the ways his life was 'altered' by the Chantry in the centuries since. And Lavellan has just seen a sneak preview of her own fate. Whatever hope she tried to kindle of a better future just got snuffed out in a glimpse of how inaccurate the record of the past is.

Everything she was, everything she'd want people to know about her? Every bit of that will be stripped away and she'll have no control over it. If the status quo is upheld, they'll say she was human, they'll say she wasn't a mage. The versions of her that aren't sufficiently sanitary to those in power or those of an agenda will gradually become legend, while the rest fades to memory. Vivienne even foreshadows Ameridan's advice during the great ball at Halamshiral in Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.

The Chantry and the nobles will erase every one of her selves that doesn't fit whatever message they decide to send. At least if the world or convenience let them.

She's closed the rifts, hell she got to influence the Orlesian throne AND the Divine election. Everything after that save her work in finding Solas is out of her hands. So what does she do about that? Exactly what Ameridan says to do. Find the small comforts and joys and moments of happiness.

A feast and game of Strip Wicked Grace with her friends and comrades. Watching the labor of love and craft of the man she loves come to completion - and seeing his heart (and perhaps thinking about family for the first time).

The World will exact it's price, and history will reduce whoever she actually was to some sort of buried speculation or myth. She might as well live a life that makes her happy, trying to appease Orlais or the Chantry or whatever minor noble Josie's invited over this week? Ultimately it's futile in the end.

But she knows she made a difference, and she knows Thom loves her and her friends care about her, and maybe that's the important part.

1. selves 2. frida 3. no more white horses

It was a dance of masks and every mask was perfect because every mask was a real face and every face was a real mask so there was no mask and there was no face for there was but one dance in which there was but one mask but one true face which was the same and which was a thing without a name which changed and changed into itself over and over.

Zodiac sign: Cancer

Neon or pastel: Neon

Do you believe in past lives: Somewhat, it's complicated

Thoughts on the British Empire: Hate them with all my heart<3

Record player or MP3: record player

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