#veilsanchor

veilsanchor

Something was wrong with the veil.

Fen'Harel had been feeling something strange, something unusual, for several days, but now it was getting acute, pressing, alarming. It felt like the rippling of waves on the clear, calm water of a mountain lake, a disturbance of complete different nature than the push of the spirits he was used to. The energy - or whatever it was - felt similar to... to something he vaguely recognized, something he had felt before, just... different... Like the face of a child who's mother he had once seen in passing, but distinguished from hers by years and the harsh lines of vallaslin...

A strange comparison, but even though he could not say how his mind had come up with it, it seemed oddly fitting. And like an ancient, half-lost memory, the strange change in the veil drew him farther towards the mountains than he usually went for his hunts, until he finally reached the foothills of the Southern Range.

These hills were full of magical edifices - stone circles of beautiful make, built of quartz or marble or crystal or even precious stones, errected as sites for worship and outposts of Arlathan's power. The part of the foothill he was headed for was uninhabited, but some smaller cities lay just half a day away by foot, and most of the mining within the mountains of the Southern Range was managed in those cities.

The disturbance seemed to be centered in one of the rose quartz circles that were dedicated to Mythal. And really, when he approached the circle, the air seemed to vibrate. At first it seemed to be the same sort of phenomenon that came with hot days, when the world seemed to melt before his eyes - but then the pull of the veil became so strong that the air seemed to be drawn from his lungs, and the vibration seemed to turn purple first, then green - and then, the air started to roar, and a whirlwind of green light appeared within the circle of light pink stone. Fen'Harel went to his knees to avoid being drawn to the vortex, and covered his head with his arms while the whirlwind roared on -

Until a sound like an explosion made the ground shake all around him. He covered his ears to keep the pain out, but still he could not avoid to be left with an insistent ringing when the noise subsided and he finally pulled his hands away.

archerlavellan replied to your post:~*~

That’s because you can smut to your hearts content on a male character, and no one bats an eyelash. You try that on a female character and she gets called a whore (I have a female character on another blog)

//For me it seems to be more that I tend to pick female muses who are unlikely to have sex in the first place??? like, women who won't sleep with people until they have a /very/ good relationship with somebody else, or (especially) women who are either too young or too old to do anything like that... 

veilsanchor replied to your post: ~*~

who said that you can’t be quality and delve into those themes though? doesn’t that just expand your realm of things you’re capable of writing?

*cough* I've literally written more smut than anything else I think 

Thing is, I love writing sex, I really do; I'm actually planning to self-pub a few things (since one of my erotica stories is going to be released in an anthology and I need a backlist), but I've also been around tumblr rp long enough to know that people who do write smut are perceived in another way than people who stick to super elaborate angst threads... 

didntsayandrastesays replied to your post “didntsayandrastesays replied to your post:~*~//*is quality and also...”

//I'm working on a drabble at this very moment! I have completed stuff on Vi's blog tho.

Do I Follow Them?: UHHHHH YES!!? stupid question.

Why Did I Follow Them?: Because I saw them and stalked their blog, and I was like ?!? WANT. So I followed, then I was followed back. AND YAY. But then we didn’t actually plot to rp until later. 

Do We Role Play?: Kinda. 

Do I Want To Role Play With Them: YES. I WISH I COULD RP FASTER. And I wish I didn’t ramble in my writing, so my replies didn’t get insanely ad stupidly long. 

An AU Idea For Our Muses: Hmmm. I always had this idea that the werewolves in Origins weren’t actually made from some spirit being bound to them, but by Fen’Harel because he was lonely and he wanted someone to talk to him, so he made a bunch of werewolves. (I literally thought of this idea in origins), AND WHEN DA:I came out I was like OMFG it fits, because Solas is afraid of being/dying alone, the big black abyss, and so he goes out of his way to make his own little family of werewolves. And then Ellana strays from her can and gets bit, and then basically Solas talks to her telepathically or something idk, but she’s all pissed cause she’s this giant dog now and he’s just like YES BFFs. then she goes on this weird journey to find him and demand he change her back, but he’s like lol nope. you’re stuck with me for life. then idk maybe she could change his mind about the dalish, etc. basically same kind idea with Solas now, except Ell would be the one kicking his butt into gear? 

A Song For Our Muses: Evening Ceremony by Active Child  or Easy by Son Lux. 

Do I Ship Our Muses?: No? I mean, I could ship them just on the fact that it’s Lavellan and Solas, but being as we’ve barely rped since I am slow, then no. Not yet. But I can totally see them as best friends too, being she the one to like knock him down a few pegs when he got to haughty. 

What I Think About The Mun: REALLY NICE. And I get the feeling we’re a lot alike in the aspect that we’re both awkward turtles? 

Overall Opinion: YES I LIKE YOU, I WANT TO KEEP YOUR FOREVER. I am sorry I am an awkward turtle, otherwise I’d probably spam you with stuff and stuff, but :/ again, awkward turtle. 

but guess who doesn’t actually leave you forever side eyes

veilsanchor

There are shadows under his eyes and his bones ache from lack of sleep, each move he makes is exhausted and carefully measured in the small chance that he might collapse into a slumber in mid step, even with the power of his dear friend easing comforts in quiet whispers. He had not expected that, when he took her in with but a touch, he would feel all those bound to her, like ants crawling on his skin, soft murmurs like the brush of silk ribbons on his skin. Except it is not quite as smooth as silk, and it burns his mind with each passing, with each knowledge that there are more out there bound in chains of vallaslin and he cannot do a thing to stop it, at least not yet. This is his punishment, to feel the presence of others in his mind because of their bond to Mythal. He deserves worse, and so he does not complain, can’t find it in himself to do so when he knows that he had taken what little life his dear friend once had. She is still there of course, lingering in the plans of his mind, whispering words of comfort and sorrow, words of vengeance and pain. It pierces him with each step, but he must endure, alone and silently if he is to right the wrongs that he had committed. It is an invasion, this feeling of knowing there are those out there bound to him as they were once bound to Mythal — that she is bound to Mythal, and he can feel her in the intimate crevices of his mind, in his dreams when he slumbers. It is why he lacks so very much of it nowadays.

When he lies down against a tree to rest, he cannot find it in himself to resist the call of his dreams any longer. With each deep breath, his eyes close and he is back in his home away from reality, in the Fade where everything around him is touched with the hint of an envious green light that has never seen the true color of day. He has tricked her many times here, with illusions and labyrinths to distract her from her goal of finding him. He felt guilt at first, but now it is only a severe determination, a nuisance. She is persistent to the point of impossibility, and if he wasn’t so frustrated with her attempts, he might’ve considered this little hunt of hers exciting and laughed. He wishes her to stay behind, to leave him be even if her mind is telling her otherwise, because when the time came for him to fix his mistakes, he knew people would be hurt in the process, and to hurt her more than he has already has is not something he would ever wish to come to pass. But if it came to that, he would not hesitate to strike if she should try to stop him.

He does not make a labyrinth this time, nor a maze or riddle, but instead a meadow of golden trees and swaying grass. It is a beautiful illusion and he almost wishes it were real, that he was back where he was in Skyhold, the lowly hedge mage people thought nothing of and not the desperate cur he was now, tired and lost.

“Why do you continue?” His voice comes out hoarse from disuse and his eyes are dark, a dangerous look if there ever was one. “You will find nothing here but pain, and I cannot ease it when you insist on digging this blade in deeper.”

She is bound, bound, bound to him and he can’t release her unless he ends it all, until all of his people are free from the chains of slavery and ignorance, until he can fix all that he had ruined.