seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Italy
seen from Mexico
seen from Réunion
seen from Türkiye
seen from Philippines
seen from United States
seen from Yemen
seen from Netherlands
seen from Libya
seen from United States
seen from Iraq
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from Canada
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
I know I reblogged it(I think) but I wanted to thank @valvernis-arts for the incredible sketch of Valoria. It’s my first time ever getting a character of mine drawn through a ‘commission’ of sorts(though they did do it for free), but I figured a standalone appreciation post was in order.
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valoria lavellan is 100% a trusting inquisitor. She carries out her duties and does what is required. After the lavellan clan is killed, she became a lot more harsh and unforgiving, choosing the most direct course of action and sparing few. Her only soft spot has become Sera, Bull, and Josie. Everyone else, to her at least, is clearly playing more angles. When she learned of Blackwall's deception, she made him keep up his facade. She can't place what Solas's deal is, and thus cannot trust him. She's become a kill-first, question-later Inquisitor. She will stop corypheus, even if it means to tear his red-lyrium infused heart from his chest with her bare fucking hands.
(Scrawled on a piece of well-worn parchment, with several marks of erased attempts. Fold marks are evident of it traveling in a pocket, and there is some grit from the Hinterlands dirt. Timepoint: Post‘In Your Heart Shall Burn’, pre-‘Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts’)
(A piece of parchment in Valoria’s tent in the Hinterlands)
You write these letters
Yet I can’t understand
How your words fix such issues at hand.
I don’t belong.
Not here, at least.
In a keep, not with a feast.
A Dalish hunter, no herald. Not me.
Yet you back the cause.
You work day and night to ensure
How could you manage?
I wouldn’t endure.
The prying eyes of Orlais,
The Grand Game is not my forte.
You do so quite effortlessly,
You working a room
Is always the sight.
A noble wrapped in silk and lace
Who always beats me at Wicked Grace.
I wish I could speak plainly, see,
But your efforts have rubbed off on me.
I fight demons, you Orlesians,
How I wish to run away.
But the world would not be the same.
Not without you, Ambassador.
You may never see this letter,
Partially I hope it’s true.
But one day soon I’ll say it better,
Josephine, may I dance with you?
(Scrawled on a piece of well-worn parchment, with several marks of erased attempts. Fold marks are evident of it traveling in a pocket, and there is some grit from the Hinterlands dirt. Timepoint: Post‘In Your Heart Shall Burn’, pre-‘Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts’)
You write these letters
Yet I can’t understand
How your words fix such issues at hand.
I don’t belong.
Not here, at least.
In no keep, not with a feast.
A Dalish hunter, no herald. Not me.
Yet you back the cause.
You work day and night to ensure
How could you manage?
I wouldn’t endure.
The prying eyes of Orlais,
The Grand Game is not my forte.
You do so quite effortlessly,
You working a room
Is always the sight.
A noble wrapped in silk and lace
Who always beats me at Wicked Grace.
I wish I could speak plainly, see,
But your efforts have rubbed off on me.
I fight demons, you Orlesians,
How I wish to run away.
But the world would not be the same.
Not without you, Ambassador.
You may never see this letter,
Partially I hope it’s true.
But one day soon I’ll say it better,
Josephine, may I dance with you?
