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There are many ruins on Koboh, a lot of them impressive but bland in their rigorously scientific endeavours. This grand old plaza atop a wrecked mountain is something else. It's nothing like the austere Jedi Order Cal knew.
"The Jedi of this era were different," Cal says.
Shinier, BD offers.
"Very golden," Cal adds.
And blue, BD says. Like the sun and the sky.
"I like it." Cal can't quite keep the melancholy out of his voice, the feeling of loss every ruin on Koboh inspires. "I don't remember seeing anywhere in the Temple on Coruscant like this. The Jedi in my time were more... cream and brown. Like how Master Cordova dresses."
BD is sure it suited Cal very well.
"Can you imagine me wearing the kinds of robes Dagan wears?"
This has BD laughing so much he almost falls off Cal's shoulders.
Boosting BD back into place, Cal raises his head, takes in the vastness of this old chamber. "This place is beautiful," he says.
Even if it's slowly being swallowed by nature.
Sometimes, it's nice for the Jedi's legacy to make him feel small again, that in the vastness of time and history, even if it is in ruins, it will outlive him. It will outlive all of them. Like the Force itself. Someday, he will become a part of it. History. The Force. Cal can only hope that, like the Jedi who went before him, he will leave behind a legacy of hope. Something meaningful for others to follow.
I think you guys constantly undermine the exploitation and colonial abuse that Hawaiʻi and Polynesia endures. i promise you indigenous polynesians aren't focused on being excited about representation in the live action moana they're much more concerned by the disney tourism propaganda they've been constantly pushing in their slop movies
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You can see the second companion menacingly stand in a T-pose at the end of Harding's Heart of the Titan quest when Rook climbs up to bring her to her senses.
It's worth noting that Veilguard's models are placed in A-pose (not a T-pose) by default, which makes this look extra odd.
Check out the tag for more useless facts: #useless davg fact of the day!
The political details in ME are really unmatched, it’s kind of sad that there’s not that much focus on them overall. Like what do you mean your VIs are programmed in such a way that they tell a non-council species alien that non-council species are “lesser”. What do you mean your one “council species” companion who’s the most involved in that society is the one who’s the most judgemental to other species based off the stereotypes seen on the citadel itself. What do you mean krogan get tagged and taken into custody as soon as they get to the citadel.
They abandon the elcor when they are attacked by the reapers. They completely ostracise the quarians. They have anti-human political parties and human supremacist ones. One race is basically in indentured servitude to another. The one with the biggest military controls most of the citadel police force and border patrol. They are an actual empire, as far as we know the only current empire in the galaxy. The ones who wrote or at the very least approved a law about sharing prothean ruins actively hoards one in order to get ahead of the others. Those who committed genocide after uplifting a race that was not ready for it are still experimenting on sentient and sapient creatures and people in order to uplift them and use them for sabotage and warfare. The newest members of the council are pretending that they have their territory under control as more and more of it is sacked by who-knows-what (they don’t care). Their people would rather risk going to the ass-end of the galaxy, taken by predatory corporations who lie and minimise the risk of death and enslavement by the nation they are definitely not at war with, than stay in their own home planet.
I’d read a political science book about the world of Mass Effect.
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Are you really playing rogue trader on console if you don't have to start the fuckass boss fight from the beginning because it crashed your game the first time through?
IT'S CALLED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! COMPASSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOT EMPATHY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE WORD YOU ARE LOOKING FOR IS COMPASSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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What if Hawke was at the Conclave and Cassandra got her wish to have Hawke as the Inquisitor? A series of looks into a world where Hawke is the Herald of Andraste. (I'm so bad at summaries it's extremely straightforward)
"I've earned myself a reputation, that my bark is much worse than my bite. But I keep snapping at Goliath's hands with all of my tiny might. There are no stones at my disposal, there's no god to award me a crown, but I am always swinging at somebody I can't knock down." ~ Take Me To War, The Crane Wives
***
Bad days were nothing new to Fenris; he’d endured more than most.
Yet the past three days ranked among the worst of his life.
In the past, he’d not had hope for a better future.
When he’d watched the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, it was like watching all those hopes crash down around him.
Without Hawke, what kind of future was there?
They’d split up. It had been her idea, and he had hated it.
She’d argued that they needed someone at the Conclave in case they took Varric there and someone in Haven in case they left him behind.
The plan had Forte trotting back and forth every few hours to deliver updates between them.
It made sense, but a general sense of dread had not left him since they parted.
When it happened, Fenris was glad to have the Mabari by his side in Haven.
White light blinded him, followed by a wave of green energy that pushed him back, and finally the sound of the explosion which deafened him to everything for a few seconds.
By the time he’d gotten his faculties back, he’d looked to where the temple had been and saw heavy smoke rising from the top of the mountain and a green churning wound in the sky.
Screams sounded around him, but he couldn’t move until Forte had pushed her head up under his arm, forcing him to his feet and back to reality.
Surely he would know if she was dead. He’d feel it somehow.
In his mind, losing Hawke would be like losing the sun; such an obvious absence would be impossible to miss.
After the explosion, though, he felt nothing but fear.
He started up the mountain, as many in Haven did, but he had to keep himself separate from everyone else for fear of being recognized.
When he encountered the demons pouring out of the strange gashes in reality, he’d fought them alone, with only Hawke’s Mabari at his side.
As he neared the top, closer to the tear in the sky, the lyrium in his skin had begun to sting worse than usual, and the heavy presence of guards made it clear that there was no way forward unless he wanted to speak with someone, a dangerous prospect for a strange trespassing elf.
Fearing it might bring more danger on Hawke if he was found out, he got as close as he dared before heading back to Haven on a different route, hoping to find her on his way back.
A few times Forte acted as though she smelled her master’s scent, but there was never any sign of Hawke.
Back in Haven, chaos still reigned. He was exhausted, devastated, and terrified, but he couldn’t stop till he found Hawke.
He slept for a couple hours wherever he could before continuing his search.
In the evening of the third day, Fenris found himself huddled against a dwelling near the outskirts of Haven, paralyzed by whatever came next if he could not find Hawke.
A familiar voice snapped him out of his daze.
“Elf!” Varric shouted, “Oh, sorry, not you. The spiky elf over there. Fenris!”
Stumbling to his feet, Fenris ran towards Varric, practically falling over the dwarf when he reached him.
“Andraste’s tits, where have you been?” Varric took hold of Fenris’s arms to steady him.
“Have you seen Hawke?” Fenris asked, ignoring Varric’s question, “She was at the Conclave, I haven’t seen her since-”
His voice broke off. The reality of Hawke’s death had been slowly encroaching on his mind the past few days, but he could not say it out loud.
“Hawke’s alive,” Varric said and started to pull him towards the village, “she’s unconscious, but alive.”
Nearly knocked to his knees with relief, Fenris had to stop for a moment.
“Hawke’s alive?” he asked, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath as the knot of fear that had lived in his gut for days finally unraveled.
Varric laid a hand on his shoulder.
“She’s alive,” he comforted, “she’s been pretty anxious about your whereabouts.”
Fenris shot up from his crouch, pushing past Varric despite not knowing where to go.
“Wait, just listen to me, no one knows how she survived, not even Hawke. All we know is that when the soldiers reached the Temple they saw her fall out of one of those rifts.”
Closing his eyes, Fenris took a deep breath to counter the rising panic.
Hawke was alive, that was all that mattered. The rest could be sorted later.
Varric continued, “But there’s more to it, they think she was sent by Andraste-”
Despite his anxiety, Fenris couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh, she must hate that.”
Varric grinned.
“She doesn’t know yet, but there’s a lot she's going to hate.”
Starting to pull him along again, Varric kept talking.
“Something else you should know, there’s a mark on her hand, some kind of magic thing.”
He wiggled his fingers as if to demonstrate.
“She came out of the Fade with it,” Varric paused, seeming not to even believe his own words. “That mark, it closes the rifts. The people think it’s a miracle: that she’s the Harold of Andraste.”
Disquieted by his friend's words, Fenris picked up his pace slightly.
A magic mark from the Fade imposed on Hawke’s hand, fanatics praising her as a prophet of some kind, and they still had her in their custody.
“Is she in pain?”
Varric shrugged, but his furrowed brows gave away his own worry.
“She hasn’t said anything about it, but I think it bothers her.”
Varric explained how they’d gone up to the Temple the day before and Hawke had stabilized the breach with the mark.
“When they first found her they were naturally suspicious. The one person who survives the explosion is the Champion of Kirkwall, who’s been in hiding since the Chantry explosion? I convinced the Seeker to give her the benefit of the doubt.”
Varric looked up at him.
“These people mean business. They’re planning an Inquisition. It’s why they wanted Hawke in the first place, they want her to be their Inquisitor.”
Fenris shook his head, still reveling in the fact that Hawke was alive, but growing more troubled by the second.
They’d have to find a way to escape this place once she woke up, he would not lose Hawke to some self righteous cause.
Fenris started to size up the security as they headed into the village proper.
Varric watched him, shrewdly.
“You two can do whatever you want but,” he started, holding up his hands when Fenris scowled, “I think you should stay. You’ll need answers about Hawke’s hand and you might be able to find them here. Besides, she’s the only one who can close the rifts. I can’t see Hawke walking away knowing that.”
Frowning, Fenris knew he was right. Hawke had never been able to walk away from those in need, a trait he loved and hated in near equal measure.
“Why are you two even here?” Varric huffed, “I told you to stay put!”
Sighing, he ran a hand over his face.
Another instance of Hawke putting someone else's wellbeing above her own, even when he asked her not to.
“She would not let it go and insisted we rescue you.”
The dwarf sighed and shook his head.
“I’m sorry, it’s my fault she’s involved at all.”
Fenris waved him away.
“These kinds of things find Hawke or she finds them. You are not at fault.”
In front of the cabin where Hawke was resting stood two guards and one Templar, who Fenris fixed with a glare.
“Curly and the Seeker thought it would be good to have a Templar on duty.” Fenris turned on Varric with a look that could kill and the dwarf threw up his hands. “I told them not to but they were scared, we don’t know what’s going on right now.”
Fenris turned to the Templar, who, to her credit, stood strong under his glower.
“You are no longer needed.”
Her eyes darted between Fenris and Varric.
“I’m sorry, Ser, but the Seeker told me-” she started but Fenris cut her off.
“Tell the Seeker you are no longer needed.”
“But-”
Varric stepped between them.
“Go on and tell her that Varric and Fenris are with Hawke, she’ll be glad I found broody.”
Trying to smooth over the situation, Varric smiled and hiked a thumb towards Fenris.
“I don’t answer to you,” she shot back, “I was told to guard the Harold for everyone’s safety. We don’t understand how the mark will affect her yet. You may enter but I am staying here.”
“You. Are. Not. Needed,” Fenris spat out, “I will guard her and I will not have a Templar hovering outside her door.”
She stepped up to Fenris, using her few inches of extra height to look down on him.
Unfazed, Fenris barred his teeth.
“Look,” Varric appealed, “you’ve got two guards here, countless throughout the village, they can handle Hawke if she goes abomination on us and you’ll only be a short walk away. This isn’t worth a fight.”
The Templar narrowed her eyes at Fenris but one of the other guards spoke up.
“Lysette, I think it’ll be fine. The Commander knows them and cleared Varric to visit.”
She turned on Varric.
“If Seeker Pentaghast disagrees it’s on both your heads.”
Fenris just stared her down until she walked away.
“Making friends already,” Varric muttered, “you could at least try to be polite, she might have left faster.”
“Templars have been dogging our heels for three years calling for Hawke’s head, I will not play nice when they assign one to watch her while she rests,” Fenris retorted, shooting Varric a glare as they entered the cabin.
It was warm and comfortable on the inside, a wonderful improvement over the tent he, Hawke, and, her Mabari had shared during their weeks traveling to Haven.
Hawke lay sleeping on a bed in the corner looking peaceful and unchanged.
The world slowed and for the first time in days he felt the tension leave his body.
Approaching the bed, he stroked his fingers down her face, trying to convince himself she was real.
“I’ll, uh, leave you to it,” Varric said, awkwardly, “I’ll try to hold off Cassandra.”
Fenris glanced towards his friend and whispered, “Thank you, Varric.”
Once Varric was gone, the full force of his exhaustion hit him, he’d found Hawke.
He could rest.
Removing his armor, Fenris laid on the bed next to Hawke, curling himself around her sleeping form.
“I am here, Hawke,” he whispered into her hair, laying a kiss on her temple.
He’d never fallen asleep so quickly.
***
Warmth surrounded her along with the familiar scents of lyrium and linseed oil; a perfect morning.
Hawke scrunched her nose, if not for the wet Mabari smell, that is.
Humming, she turned over, nuzzling her head under Fenris’s chin and wrapping her arms around his waist.
She was nearly asleep again when she remembered the day before.
“Fenris!” she cried and held his face between her hands laying kisses all over it.
He awoke with a start but soon, was smiling and pulling her closer.
“Marian,” he murmured and kissed her, “I missed you as well.”
In the midst of their reunion, Forte leapt her large body up onto the bed, directly on top of Hawke.
“Ooof, I missed you too girl! Did you take good care of Fenris?” she asked, scratching the Mabari’s ears happily, until the weight became too much.
“I love you girl, but you've got to get off me,” Hawke rasped, directing the dog to the end of the bed.
When they were all settled, Hawke began her questioning.
“How did you get here?” she asked but then cut off his reply, “Oh, I have so much to tell you- I don’t even know where to start-”
“Varric told me everything,” he said.
She deflated.
“I wanted to tell you!”
Chuckling, Fenris said, “You can still tell me. I enjoy listening to you talk.”
Pouting for show Hawke shook her head.
“No, it’s fine. Kind of an exhausting story anyway,” she said and rubbed his cheek with her thumb, “I was so worried about you, I tried to get away and find you but they caught me.”
“You were worried about me? Hawke, you were at the site of the explosion!”
“I didn’t know where you were!” she replied, concerned eyes studying him, “And I knew you’d be worried too. I’m sorry, dear.”
He kissed her.
“I’m just happy you are unharmed.”
“Mostly,” Hawke said, showing him her palm where a thin, green, glowing scar marred her skin, “I wasn’t just at the explosion. Apparently I was in the Fade. Physically in the Fade, Fenris. I feel like I’ve lost my mind!”
She heard her own voice tick up a notch.
“And then I’ve got this thing on my hand!”
He ran his fingers over the scar and it glowed a bit brighter in response to his touch, stinging slightly at the contact.
“I’m sorry, amatus. Varric says you don’t remember anything about the explosion or the Fade,” Fenris remarked.
“I don’t. Last thing I remember was sneaking around the Temple trying to find information on Varric. Next thing I know, I’m chained up, and not in the fun way, being interrogated by that Seeker who’s obsessed with Varric.”
His brows furrowed.
“They had you chained? Varric said he convinced her to go easy on you.”
“Maybe this was her version of easy,” Hawke said.
Looking back down to her mark, Fenris ran his fingers across it again and the pain had a bit more bite to it this time, Hawke winced.
He pulled away quickly.
“Does it hurt?”
She shook her head, taking his hand back and intertwining their fingers.
When his palm touched hers it didn’t hurt but there was a humming current of energy between, different from the usual stomach fluttering kind.
“Not much, it might just be reacting to the lyrium. I don’t know anything about it except that it can close those rifts. There’s an apostate here, who watched over me when I first came out of the rift, apparently. He spent some of that time studying the mark but hasn’t had much to say about it yet. He’s the one who figured out it can close the rifts.”
Fenris squinted his eyes.
“They have an apostate with them? Isn’t their leader a Seeker?”
She shrugged.
“Aren’t all mages apostates now? There seemed to be a few mages hanging about, left overs from the Conclave I suppose,” she paused, suddenly finding it hard to swallow around the lump in her throat, “all those people are dead now, but I survived.”
Strong arms pulled her closer and she laid her head on his chest.
“I went up the trail to the Temple, I saw the destruction,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair, “I thought you were dead, Marian.”
Forte whined, as if to back up his point.
“I’m sorry to put you through that.”
She laid a kiss above his heart and patted the Mabari’s head.
Fenris cupped her cheek and pulled her up to kiss him.
It was heavenly, sinking back into him.
The days leading up to the Conclave they’d been on the move and so tired by the end of the day that they would usually collapse into their bedrolls the second they entered the tent.
A fire began to spread in her belly as he ran his tongue over her lips and trailed his fingers up and down her waist.
Lips trailed down her jaw, and her responding moan sounded loud in the small cabin.
The dance was familiar these days, but still the best she’d ever had.
His leg came up between hers, sliding pleasantly against her and setting off little fireworks behind her eyelids.
Maker, she was so ready to remind herself she was still alive.
Her hands were sliding under his tunic when the sound of a door opening stopped them in their tracks.
An elf entered the cabin, carrying a crate, happily unaware of the scene she was entering.
When she looked up to see them on the bed, she dropped the crate and the sound of glass breaking filled the small space.
“Oh!” she cried, jumping back, “I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”
Hawke and Fenris flew apart awkwardly and suddenly she was 15 again, caught with the neighbor's daughter.
She wasn’t the only one embarrassed, though.
Sympathy filled Hawke at the clear discomfort on the other woman’s face, noting the deep blush across her cheeks and ears.
“It’s alright, no harm done,” she said, plastering on a genial smile to cover her disappointment, “Could you tell me wher-”
Before she could finish the woman hit the floor, bowing her head to the ground in front of them.
Hawke shot up from the bed, instantly uncomfortable.
“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant,” she beseeched, face to the floor still, “you are back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us, the breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.”
Hawke rubbed the mark, watching it glow as if it knew it was being discussed.
Feeling a bit gross at the idea of an elven servant prostrating before her, Hawke crouched in front of her, trying to catch her eye.
The woman looked up finally.
“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”
“That’s uh- Thank you, you can get up though, there’s no need-”
Hawke reached out a hand to the servant, but she stumbled up, looking even more panicked than before.
“I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve awakened. She said, ‘at once’!”
Hawke stood slowly from her crouch, feeling every muscle in her body strain with the effort.
“Where is Lady Cassandra?”
“In the chantry, with the lord Chancellor,” she answered, continuing to back away.
“Ah, could you-”
“‘At once!’ she said” she repeated and ran out the door.
They started after her in baffled silence.
“Maker’s breath, what the fuck was that about?”
Fenris was silent.
She turned to look at him, only to find him wearing an amused smirk.
“What? What do you know?”
He moved to sit on the side of the bed, drawing her closer to stand between his legs.
“Varric may have mentioned something about this,” he said. “Apparently, they’re calling you the Harold of Andraste. They believe Andraste sent you to save them from the Breach, and many of them think the person behind you in the Fade was Andraste herself.”
Hawke threw her head back in a laugh.
“I’m serious, Hawke.”
Drawing back, she shook her head.
“What? No. No, that can’t be. They were just calling me a criminal! They’ve been blaming me for the whole blasted mage rebellion!”
Fenris shrugged.
“And then they saw you perform a miracle.”
She pulled away from him and began to pace.
“It wasn’t a miracle! There’s no such thing as miracles, I performed an act of magic, perhaps, but that’s nothing new! They know who I am, right? The blasted Champion of Kirkwall! The Chantry hates me, why would I be anyone's Harold?!”
“I think-” he started, but she continued, her heart rate kicking up a notch.
“I don’t even believe in the Maker, this is ridiculous! Surely, no one would believe that the Maker would send me, of all people, to do his bidding. A mage no less!”
Standing, Fenris took hold of her hands and stopped her frantic pacing.
“Hawke,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them soothingly, “this is just what I heard from Varric, we don’t know the whole story yet. Let us go to the Chantry and find out from the Seeker herself.”
She laid her forehead against his chest in surrender.
“Can we just run away?”
The question wasn’t a real one, she knew she had to stay.
Creepy, glowing mark aside, there were reports of rifts all over the south, and she appeared to be the only one who could close them.
Fenris rubbed her back.
“If I truly believed you wanted to leave, we would do so this instant.”
He is very good at napping. It’s one of the primary skills of a griffon after all. He doesn’t have any grown griffons to tell him so. But he has his dad.
“Come on, buddy. Are you really just gonna lay there all afternoon?”
“I’m gonna need you to get off my legs at some point, little guy, I can’t feel them anymore.”
“Are you going to leave any of that bed for me or are you going to just…sure. Help yourself. I didn’t need that pillow.”
Father’s praise is abundant and generous. Assan can hear the pride in it. He is a good fledgling. He has learned to nap well.
But it is important to have a community.
“Biiiiiiiiiiiiig stretch!” says the one who smells of forests and won’t let Assan in her room because it is ‘delicate,’ and ‘explosive,’ whatever that means.
Her eyes grow big with delight when Assan gets up. Front legs in a bow, back legs one by one. He curves in an elegant arch, and finally his wings in a great shudder that rattles his feathers all the way down to his lion tail.
He yawns and looks at his new friend.
Her eyes are very big. She’s sketching in her little book. “So cute!” she squeaks.
Assan preens.
“Hello Assan!” says Manfred’s Dad.
He is older, which means he has survived a long time. There are a lot of things in the world that will Eat You if you are not careful. Assan respects this.
“You’re a very good boy,” he praises Assan, and Assan believes him. He does not know about the nest of books Assan and Manfred have been building behind the bookcase.
Then Assan is raking his claws against the kitchen door.
The door opens. And the one that smells like Spite pokes his head out.
Assan freezes with his claws still inside the door, several deep rents decorate it.
They stare at each other. Assan worries perhaps he has intruded on the wrong territory. He does not want to upset the one who smells like Spite. The one who smells like Spite gives very very good treats.
The man’s eyes narrow at the markings in his door.
Then he nods.
“Sharp. Good!” and he gives Assan a bit of fish.
The one who smells like Spite also has very good claws that he keeps on his belt and in his boots and other places Assan cannot see. He is always sharpening them.
Assan slides down the door with several satisfying scrapes.
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