#trilyn

And here is the much anticipated Part 2 to the OC Flirting Gif meme thingy (tagged by @withthebreezesblown and @trulycertain), featuring DAI OCs!  And, as with DAO, I have found that several of my OCs are somewhat less than stellar examples of flirtationing partners.  Oops, I guess?

Lena de la Roche:

Floortje “treats it like a business transaction” Trevelyan:

Jem (i.e. the only one of the DAI bunch who knows how to flirt AND enjoys it):

Saara:

Trilyn: 

Ceda:

4) What is their favored mount (and why)? Do they like riding at all or do they prefer another mode of transport?

Okay! Let’s go! For my DAO OCs, pretty much all of them prefer walking, except for Gazza, who has learned to ride and very much enjoys it. Velyn has learned to ride some as well, but he hasn’t seen many halla or harts since leaving the Brecilian Forest. Plus he can maneuver in and out of vantage points and hiding places better when on foot.

For DA2, Jaren Hawke is game for anything, but really trusts his own two feet more than anything else. Though if he could ride a mabari into battle, he absolutely would.

DAI is where things get a little more interesting! Jem absolutely loves horse-riding, and learned to ride when he was young, so he’s quite skilled. He loves the feeling of riding hard and fast just for the hell of it. In general, he prefers a Fereldan mount to others because he’s had the most experience with them and has found them to be the most reliable and easiest to train.

Lena knows how to ride because she’s an Orlesian noble with a chevalier for a brother; riding while at ceremonies or presentations was an important part of her lessons growing up, and she’s quite comfortable on a horse. She is, of course, most familiar with Orlesian Coursers.

Trilyn and Saara have never ridden in their lives and have no real desire to, but Floortje can ride quite well, being a noble, and is most used to the Free Marches Ranger.

5) Do they enjoy fighting or are they just doing this to live and/or survive?

For the majority of my OCs, it’s something done to survive, but some of them do enjoy fighting as well. Gundhram, for example, sees fighting as an art and a measure of honor and worthiness. Fighting is a huge part of dwarven culture in Orzammar (with Provings and all) and Gundhram takes pride in that. Tristan, on the other hand, views fighting from a more practical view, but still looks on his own skills with a more subtle kind of pride.

Gazza and Velyn also take the view that there is more to fighting than simply surviving; however, they would both contest the notion that they enjoy the bloodshed itself. Like Gundhram, they see physical combat as an honest way of proving one’s skill, especially one-on-one combat. There’s an honor to it, and they respect that. That being said, the Blight forces a more practical perspective. They all love killing darkspawn though.

Aja and Ila are a little different. Aja dislikes fighting very much at first, and it’s really only something she does to survive. That feeling never completely goes away, but there is a sense of pride in her that bubbles up when she’s executed a tricky maneuver or taken down a gaggle of darkspawn with a single spell. She grows to be a little nervous of that response.

Ila is practical to a fault and learns to fight primarily to survive, but she has a definite preference for her mother’s style of fighting, and when she was young, she learned that style because she thought it was beautiful and she had romantic notions about being able to defend her family or come to someone’s rescue using those skills. It didn’t exactly turn out that way in reality though… And once she grew into adulthood she kept honing her skills so that no one would be able to take her down, pushing all the romantic ideas surrounding the fighting style out of her mind.

DA2: Jaren Hawke loves fighting. It’s exhilarating, especially when it’s just fists. There’s something honest in that kind of fighting that he appreciates, but he’s learned to extend that feeling to his swordsmanship as well. While he doesn’t like the act of killing itself, the fights that lead up to the killing blow are invigorating for him. He absolutely loves sparring with Aveline or Fenris for that reason; it’s the excitement of a fight without the killing at the end.

None of my DAI crew particularly enjoy fighting; Lena is not a fighter at all and hates to be in the middle of a battle. Floortje is a trained fighter and takes that seriously, but she never seeks out a fight, nor does she really ever get lost in any kind of bloodlust or anything like that. Trilyn, like Lena, is no fighter, though he’s had to defend himself in battle a few times, and sometimes he allows his anger to seep into his spell-casting, which can lead to a vicious satisfaction whenever he makes a kill.

Jem takes to fighting because it’s one of the ways in which he knows he can be useful. He’s not particularly excited or disgusted by it, though. He simply does it when it’s needed.

Cullen didn’t like this. This shouldn’t have been happening. None of this was right, and yet he had to stand in silence and act as though it were pardonable, as though it all made perfect sense.

Before them, in the Knight-Commander’s office, stood a magister from the dread Tevinter Imperium. Surrounded by a detail of five armed guards and two elven slaves, the magister looked entirely too at home. Cullen lifted his chin and stared the man down firmly, though it seemed to have little effect.  The magister – Danarius, he claimed to be called – was smirking, eyes moving from Cullen to Meredith, self-assured disinterest clear. It was obvious he thought himself the most important person in the damn room.  The sight of it made Cullen bristle.

“Let me say once again…Knight-Commader, was it?” the magister spoke in a smooth tone, slick affected politeness barely coating the authority he felt himself entitled to. “I very much appreciate your willingness to… work with me on this matter.”

“Do not mistake my allowance for acceptance, heathen,” Meredith snapped back harshly. “You will have no more than three days to conclude your business, and by that time, you will leave this city one way or another.”  She took an aggressive step forward.  “You will restrict your business to the agreed upon location in Lowtown, and neither you nor your men will venture beyond it unless it is to the docks.”  Her eyes narrowed and her voice hardened.  “Do I make myself clear.”

The magister smiled. “Of course.”

“Excellent. Now.”  Meredith stepped closer still to the magister and glared expectantly at him.  “There is the matter of payment.”

The magister’s smile grew, his eyes flashed, and he glided back a step and waved a hand to one of the slaves.  “Yes, yes, I remember.  Trilyn.” He didn’t even turn to face the slave who stepped forward with an ornate chest held in the crook of one arm. Without a word, the slave raised his free hand, his fingers curling easily and swiftly inward, toward his palm.

It wasn’t until the cut had been made and the blood magic had begun that Cullen even realized what had happened.  A few droplets of blood from the slave’s hand became harsh flashing ribbons of magic, swirling about the lock on the chest.

Cullen sucked in a breath and took a step forward before he could stop himself, his hand going to his sword.  Meredith made no similar move, though she did tense, her gaze sharp, locked on the slave who worked the… spell.

The magister laughed, and his eyes lit with amusement, his mouth curling as his gaze turned to Cullen.

“Oh, it’s alright, boy,” he assured, his voice oily and insincere.  Cullen ground his teeth behind pursed lips.  “Trilyn doesn’t bite.”  The magic disappeared and the lock was left open.  The magister placed a proprietary hand on the slave’s – the maleficar’s – head, caressing lightly.  For the first time since the meeting began, Cullen found himself taking in the slave’s features with more care.

He possessed rather distinctive and fine features, with dark skin Cullen normally associated with native Tevenes, and sharp eyes accented by rich green makeup.  His hair was long and well-groomed, and his clothes were finer than the other slave’s.  His master wanted him to look well, it seemed.  Cullen wondered if the maleficar would look any different without his makeup. Wondered if it would be necessary to learn to identify him as such in the future if he should ever leave his master’s service.

Kirkwall did not need more blood mages to contend with.

Cullen’s hand didn’t leave the hilt of his blade.  The magister’s eyebrow twitched upward.  “Still nervous, are we?  Well, if you like, you may consider him part of the payment.”  His eyes swiveled to Meredith.  “Temporarily, of course.”  Cullen’s brow furrowed in confusion and he looked to Meredith.

“And why would we need your slave?” she sneered.  Her expression was one of clear derision.  “We are not in the business of slavery, and we have no need of maleficar.”

We would never stoop so low, Cullen thought fiercely.  The magister was unruffled.

“Oh, I have no intention of leaving him with you,” he assured them. “It is only that your man here looks so very tense.”  Cullen stiffened under the magister’s scrutiny but held his gaze firmly.  “I am willing to offer the temporary services of my slave to aid in the easing of that tension.  To prove just how harmless he truly is.”  His hand slid from the slave’s head to his shoulder, urging the slave to step forward.  Cullen pulled himself up and back.  The slave’s eyes found his and Cullen found himself faced with an unreadable expression. The magister kept speaking.

“If you wish it, his body is yours,” he offered, eyes moving from Cullen to the slave and then back again. Cullen felt something in his stomach twist.

“No!” he declared vehemently, feeling a sharp sting of disgust at the very thought.  He was a templar! He would not sleep with a maleficar!  His silence and acceptance could not be bought.  “That will not be necessary.”  He practically spat the words out, and he could feel all eyes in the room on him, but he stood his ground.  The magister looked unendingly amused.

“So he does speak.” He waved a careless hand.  “Have it your way.”  He gestured to the other slave.  “I would offer you the girl, but I’m afraid I need her to be quite unspoiled for what is to come.”

“Enough dallying,” Meredith cut in, calling the magister’s attention back to her. “Give me what you owe.”

The magister didn’t speak for a moment, simply looked.  His eyes glittered in the torchlight and the shadows sidled and slid across his face. The silence stretched before finally the magister gestured to the maleficar.  “Trilyn.”

The slave stepped forward, opening the chest and revealing its contents to Meredith.

Unable to stop himself, Cullen looked down at the chest, trying to see exactly how much this magister was willing to pay that the Knight-Commander—

“Knight-Captain, you will leave us,” Meredith’s sharp voice cut into Cullen’s thoughts and he just barely managed to keep from showing his surprise.  He looked up at her for a moment and hesitated.  He didn’t relish the idea of leaving the Knight-Commander alone with so many Tevinters, at least two of them blood mages.

“Knight-Commander, I—” he started.

“Dismissed, Knight-Captain.”  She wasn’t even looking at him anymore, her eyes going back to the chest.  Apparently understanding that Meredith didn’t wish Cullen to see the contents of the chest, the slave had shifted slightly, blocking the mystery object with his body. Cullen’s eyes narrowed marginally before he caught himself and gave his superior a concise nod.

“As you will, Knight-Commander.”  Without any form of acknowledgement to or from the magister or his entourage, Cullen strode calmly but quickly from the room.  As he passed the slave, however, he could have sworn he heard the softest sound emanating from the chest in the elf’s arms.  Like singing.

Cullen sucked in a breath and forced himself to keep moving, the sound striking a chord somewhere deep within him, but it was… off, somehow.  Wrong in the most visceral of ways.

As he left, he heard the magister’s voice rumble from behind him, “I have little need of it.  There is something far more valuable that awaits me.” The doors closed behind Cullen, and he took a breath to compose himself.  Nearby, two of the lieutenants – the only two Meredith had allowed to know of this arrangement – stood by, worry and disapproval etched into their features, though they controlled it well.

Cullen said nothing to them and turned back to the doors that now separated him from his Knight-Commander, who was quite willingly doing business with a magister and blood mage of Tevinter.

Not for the first time, Cullen began to wonder if Knight-Commander Meredith truly knew what she was doing.  

A/N: Just a little AU I’d been rolling around in my head for a while.  It all started with me wondering how on earth Danarius managed to get an entire tavern clear of people long enough to conduct his business with Fenris in the third act.  And also, how does a Tevinter magister and his entourage get the clearance to be in Kirkwall in the first place?  My answer: blood magic.  I KID. I thought it was interesting to consider the possibility of Danarius somehow buying the red lyrium idol from one of Bartrand’s people, and then selling it to Meredith in exchange for some time in Lowtown, unmolested, to go after Fenris.  

Oh, no, it’s Commedia dell’arte…  Who would be what stock character?  Ahem, on to the actual prompt:

For my DAO crew: Gazza’s character is turned into a man bythe troupe, and Aja’s character is somehow her love interest, and Aja is soembarrassed by that that she almost leaves. Alistair manages to convince her to stay and watch, but really this isjust utterly inaccurate!  Aja is not adainty delicate flower who can barely walk ten steps before needing to becarried in male Gazza’s big strong manly arms!  

For her part, Gazza is a mixture of annoyed and amused.  She’s seen plays before, and she’s seen somesilly portrayals of her father in some of them, and it’s all been done in goodfun, but this troupe pushes the envelope a bit more than usual.  At least they all strike her as too dumb toreally go for the biting satire.  Hercharacter can also communicate telepathically, which strikes her as just alittle much.

Velyn is offended by the wooden ears they used for hischaracter, and BY THE CREATORS the Dalish don’t act like that, why do all theshem think they have to sacrifice goats to appease the Creators?!  There aren’t even any goats in the BrecilianForest!  His review: “This is shit.”  Velyn is the only one of the group who isshouting at the actors with the serious intent to get them to listen to him,and his frustration is only made worse when Alistair teases him about it.  “No, keep shouting, I’m sure they’ll listenthis time.  Maybe try from that side ofthe stage, I think there are better acoustics over there.”  (Yes, acoustics exist in Thedas and people knowabout them because reasons.)

Ila is depicted as the sneaky thief in the shadows who neverreveals her face on stage, and Ila herself isn’t really impressed by thisparticular portrayal of her, but she is so morbidly fascinated by thistrainwreck of shemlen culture that she isn’t able to look away… She has neverexperienced anything like this before, and it’s surprisingly fascinating to seehow the shem make entertainment for themselves. Also, that one actress who plays her is too loud.

And then we have the dwarves, Gundhram and Tristan.  Now, not many people know this, but whendwarves are depicted on stage, if the troupe can’t get a surface dwarf to playthe part, they’ll pad up a young child, slap a fake beard on them, and thenhave a man with a deep voice give the character’s lines from offstage while thechild actor gesticulates on stage.  (I’mcompletely making that up, but it amused me and sounded like a seriously badstage choice to make, so I’m running with it for the “crappy theater troupe”theme.)

Gundhram finds this irksome, unfunny, and somewhatoffensive, but he doesn’t let it get to him. Except he will wince when he sees a little human child on stage puffinghis fake belly out and waddling around like a sodding idiot.  Meanwhile, Tristan heckles.  A lot. He’ll drink while he watches the crappo troupe, and then he’ll shoutover the actors’ lines and just generally be That Guy.  He thinks it’s stupid, really, but it’s goodfor one hell of a laugh.  Also, if Zevran’sthere, get ready for some serious Grade A heckling.

And last, but not least, Alistair’s character was turnedinto a woman and ends up fighting Aja’s character over Gazza’s (male)character.  Alistair thinks that’s arather inaccurate portrayal of his actual relationships with Aja and Gazzarespectively… (This is getting too ridiculous, @celeritassagittae, stop makingme think of the most ridiculous scenarios for this!)

And for DA2:

If we’re talking about Jaren Hawke, he absolutely loves it.  The crappier the better.  He makes everyone go with him to this event,and then proceeds to interact with the actors perhaps more than they would likehim to.  Absolutely demonstrates typicalgroundling behavior (be brought a bag of throwing fruit just for the occasion),and loves the crappy jokes.  One of thefew things that actually brings him some joy in Kirkwall, especially if he seesit in one of the later acts.  He mighteven use his status as Champion to give the troupe an honorary title he made upon the spot.  10/10, would watch again,also bring a Fenris, Fenris is surprisingly into the heckling.  Would not recommend bringing an Anders,unless you’re ready to deal with the fallout of a magically-induced “accident”that set half the stage on fire.  

For DAI:

Honestly, Lena could have everyone executed for itif she wanted, but Empress Celene she ain’t. And honestly, she thinks it’s funny… Lena has a surprisingly low-browsense of humor when she wants to, and she’s of the mind (in large part thanksto Vivienne) that allowing the poking of fun at the Inquisition will keeppeople from getting too nervous about it. Besides she’s no stranger to people using the arts to make fun of somenoble or to provoke a response, so that helps her from giving an… unseemlyreaction.  

That being said, when Sera makes her way onto the stagedressed as an old beggar lady who stabs people with her arrows (fake arrows,thankfully) in their behinds, Lena falls apart. The snort-laughter lasts for about five solid minutes before she’s ableto control it.

Jem doesn’t get a character in the troupe because he’s a spy andno one knows who he, specifically, is. There’s a character whom he suspects to be modeled after him, but hejust grins to himself and watches the trainwreck in very amused silence.  He may or may not have considered going upthere and just pretending to be one of the actors for kicks and giggles.  As an aside, Dorian finds the whole thing so utterly southern, and also the acting isterrible, and Jem finds his reactionshilarious.  He eggs him on, pointing out all the things that he knows will annoy Dorian, and really that’s just as entertaining as the play itself. 

Trilyn would honestly not know what to make of it.  He’s rarely experienced the more artisticside of his own culture; of course he hasn’t really had any experience with theartistic culture of any other nations. In the end, though, he would find it funny in its innocuousness.  He’s a bit more patient with the portrayalsbecause there is no one portraying his character; that would be crossing allthe wrong boundaries.  He’s as fascinatedby the hecklers as the actors.  He wouldmost likely keep to the back to observe and avoid being dragged into anything.

Well, here we are again! @celeritassagittae has tagged me for this, so here is the most recent sentence I’ve written:

It was an exhilarating feeling, knowing that he was being fought over.  Dangerous too, Trilyn knew, but for this moment, at least, he allowed himself to bask in it.

Aw, snap, what’s happening now!?  Backstory stuff, honestly.  I haven’t written for my DAI OCs in a good while, and I think it’s time to remedy that.

So here it is, in all its unfinished glory!  At this point, the fic is in the stage during which I write random excerpts that come to my mind so that I don’t forget the wording, and then try to figure out how the heck to connect them.

Sweet! How does Cullen react when Trilyn later joins up with the Inquisition?

I’ve been working through that!  Trilyn’s place in the Inquisition is a tough thing for me to figure out because he has learned so many ways to fly under someone’s radar.  As a slave, he’s had to learn how to make himself too valuable to sell or cut loose, but not so valuable that he has too much attention from a master/mistress or the other slaves.  He’s learned to toe the line very well, and he’s extremely observant and adaptable.  If he doesn’t want to spend his time in someone’s presence and he has the choice, he won’t.  And that presents a challenge for me because I want to write him interacting with other characters. 

That being said, his situation with Cullen is not as controlled as he would like, precisely because Cullen met him in Kirkwall, and actually saw that he was a blood mage.  So if Trilyn joins the Inquisition, I imagine that Cullen will want to make sure that someone keeps an eye on him; he’s no longer hostile to mages like he was in DAO and DA2, and he has come a long way from his time in Kirkwall, but blood magic is the one form of magic that I don’t think he’s changed his opinion about at all. Which means that, if Trilyn wants to avoid Cullen, he’s going to have his work cut out for him.  Cullen knows who he is, something about his past, and that he’s a blood mage.  Trilyn won’t be able to tiptoe out of this one.