Posts Tagged 'varania'

For the fic prompts: “How did you get these bruises? Please don’t lie to me.” for a ship of your choosing <3

kaerwrites:

So it isn’t for a ship, but I hope it still works ❤ Thanks, dear!

The soup was slowly beginning to bubble – thin, but very spicy,
carrots and cabbage and potatoes and dear, thin strips of chicken. Varania’s
mouth watered as she stirred it, as she watched the bubbles rise and pop.

She shrieked and nearly leapt out of her skin when a finger
jabbed hard into her ribs.

“Daydreaming?” Leto teased, weaving out of the way as she
swatted at him. He was smiling. He leaned against the counter and reached for
the spoon and Varania quickly pulled it away from him.

“You smell,” Varania complained. “Why are you so sweaty?”

“Why are you so nosy?” Leo retorted. He reached for the spoon
again, and again Varania pulled it away.

“It’s not ready yet,” she said.

“I only want a taste.”

“You’ve been eating too much lately.”

“I’m a growing boy.”

He sounded so amused, so pleased with himself. This time when her
brother reached for the spoon, Varania used it to slap his hand. “Go get
cleaned up before you make the soup curdle,” she said, and Leto’s grin only
widened.

He was a charismatic boy – clever, energetic, with a smile that
lit up a room. He shone, and that was
the problem with him. Varania loved her brother, but he worried her. He was
incapable of sitting quietly and accepting life as it came – he knew how to
behave for the magisters, how to bow his head and hold his tongue, but he was simultaneously
too smart and too attractive. It terrified her, the likelihood that he might
one day draw too much attention to himself – that he might seek it out.

The way he had been talking lately –

Varania felt it, a cold surety that spread from her spine to her
toes. She listened to him fill the wash basin with water, and she turned just
as he began to pull off his shirt.

Leto moved slowly, carefully. His back was mottled, purple and
green.

“Where did you get those bruises?” Varania demanded, and watched
as her brother froze, as he slowly let his shirt fall back into place.

“Varania,” he said, slowly, and she swallowed.

“Please, don’t lie to me.”

He turned back to her then, and in the weak light filtering
through the windows, he looked so young, and so fragile, and so Maker-damned
stubborn. Varania swallowed a hard lump.

“You’ve been training again,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
She felt it, the truth of it, even before she saw confirmation in his eyes.

“The contest is less than a week away,” he began, apologetic,
excuses ready. Varania didn’t give him the chance.

“Mother asked you not to. You promised – !”

“Neither of you understand,” he said. “It isn’t right, the lives
we live here. I can fix that. The prize – Varania, I can get you out. I can fix
– I can fix everything.”

She saw in her eyes that he meant it, and felt in her gut how
wrong he was. It was like visiting one’s own funeral pyre, smelling the stench
of it on their air. When Leto stepped toward her, Varania stepped back.

“You aren’t a fighter,” she said, twisting the spoon in her
hands. “If you compete, you’ll die. Then where will we be?”

“And if I win,” he said, his eyes alight, “You’ll be free.”

“Leto…”

He took another step. She raised the spoon, as if to strike him,
and he took it from her gently.

“Please,” he said. “Don’t say anything to mother yet.”

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cypheroftyr:

Fenris’ confrontation with Danarius always breaks my heart, especially the expression on his face when he realizes Varania’s betrayal. I will always despise the way Anders acts and the things he says if he’s with the party at this fight. 

https://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/rannadylin/146313213466/tumblr_o96l6pxWxZ1sw4ljg?plead=please-dont-download-this-or-our-lawyers-wont-let-us-host-audio

bettydice:

Beneficium Accipere Libertatem Est Vendere
  

by @rannadylin

She should be grateful that at least he had spoken civilly to her tonight. She would be grateful, and go.

Except that his hand came to rest on hers, and he looked her in the
eye again. “Perhaps I am not the only one changed by the years, sister.”

She frowned. “Me?”

“I remember little of you,” he admitted. “I thought meeting you
again, reconnecting with my past, would bring a sense of belonging,
but…”

“But?”

He glanced across the table, where Hawke sat talking with Varric.
Across the room, Isabela jabbed a finger erratically at Aveline,
underscoring some point she was trying to make, while the Guard Captain
crossed her arms and shook her head and her husband stood hiding a smile
behind his hand. Merrill, Sebastian, Anders had already all departed,
yet their presence too seemed implied in the gaze Fenris swept across
the room, taking them all in, the friends he had made in his freedom.
“But,” he continued at last, “the past was not the place to find that.
Whatever you and I were in the past, Varania, I…would like to get to
know you as you are now.”

READ THE WHOLE FIC ON AO3!

Hugs for the Seheron elves

rannadylin:

It’s Hug Your OC Day! Considering that it’s been a while since I wrote and I left my Hawke family on relatively happy endings in the meantime, I’ve decided to offer preemptive hugs to young!Metis and his wife Mara, on account of the pain that there will be if/when I finally write down their backstory.


“You keep Varania occupied,” said Mara, “and I shall wash
up.”

“I can help,” Metis began to insist, carrying dishes in a
tenuous stack toward the basin.

Mara shook her head, intercepting him to take the pile. “And
while you do that, she’ll be out in the herb garden trying to dig a tunnel to
Ferelden again.”

He considered with a smile at that memory. “Right. Well
then, I’ll just go…supervise any digging. Keeping it strictly imaginary, of
course.”

Mara’s ears followed the sound of their progress as she
worked through the dishes. Her husband’s laughter pursued the squeals of their daughter
from one side of the yard to the other, deftly steering her away when she came
too near what remained of their kitchen herbs. She grinned when she heard the
wordless shrieks and giggles give way to a shout of “I fly, Papa! I fly!”
Through the window, Mara caught a glimpse of the tiny girl lifted aloft in her
father’s arms, zooming around the yard.

Keep reading

Hugs for the Seheron elves

It’s Hug Your OC Day! Considering that it’s been a while since I wrote and I left my Hawke family on relatively happy endings in the meantime, I’ve decided to offer preemptive hugs to young!Metis and his wife Mara, on account of the pain that there will be if/when I finally write down their backstory.


“You keep Varania occupied,” said Mara, “and I shall wash
up.”

“I can help,” Metis began to insist, carrying dishes in a
tenuous stack toward the basin.

Mara shook her head, intercepting him to take the pile. “And
while you do that, she’ll be out in the herb garden trying to dig a tunnel to
Ferelden again.”

He considered with a smile at that memory. “Right. Well
then, I’ll just go…supervise any digging. Keeping it strictly imaginary, of
course.”

Mara’s ears followed the sound of their progress as she
worked through the dishes. Her husband’s laughter pursued the squeals of their daughter
from one side of the yard to the other, deftly steering her away when she came
too near what remained of their kitchen herbs. She grinned when she heard the
wordless shrieks and giggles give way to a shout of “I fly, Papa! I fly!”
Through the window, Mara caught a glimpse of the tiny girl lifted aloft in her
father’s arms, zooming around the yard.

When the dishes were washed and dried, Mara took advantage
of the cottage’s emptiness (astounding how thoroughly a tiny two-year-old
seemed to fill any space where she was) to extend the tidying-up to the rest of
it, sweeping out one little room after another, returning to their places the
chairs Varania had dragged together in an attempt to climb up to the counter
where Mara kept the remnants of yesterday’s sweet biscuits. As she gathered
clothes for washing (Varania’s dress from yesterday thoroughly muddied from her
tunneling attempts in the garden), the patter of footsteps announced their
return indoors. Passing through the front room with the laundry basket under
her arm, Mara saw them seated before the hearth as Metis made up some story for
the wide-eyed girl on his lap.

All was quiet when she returned some time later with the
empty basket, leaving the laundry behind on the drying line. Glancing towards
the fire, she saw that they hadn’t actually moved. Metis was sprawled on his
back, one arm behind his head, the other draped over Varania, snuggled on his
chest and sound asleep. Mara stepped closer, unable to resist the urge to
straighten her daughter’s rumpled dress and smooth the red hair out of her eyes.
Neither of the sleepers stirred at her ministrations.

She left them to it, eventually, and went to fetch a blanket
from a chest, spreading it carefully over them both before she went on about
her business. There was mending to finish before the daylight faded (Varania’s dress,
torn three days ago when she caught it on the fence she was trying to squeeze
through). Settled down in a chair near enough the hearth to keep an eye on
them, Mara sat and stitched till only firelight remained. They shifted in their
sleep from time to time, but neither woke.

Mara went to get ready for bed herself, peeking at them from
time to time, biting at her lip as she considered waking them. Varania was
young enough to sleep anywhere, she supposed, but Metis would be stiff in the
morning from sleeping on the floor. Best to send them back to bed, then—but,
approaching with that intent, she saw Varania still curled up on Metis’ chest,
her head tucked beneath his chin, her small fist twisted in the fabric of his tunic,
and Mara could not bear to disturb them, whatever morning might bring.

She returned to the bedroom, but as comfortable and enticing
as the bed’s softness was after the day’s work, it seemed all too much. She lay
there wide awake for a time, staring out the window and straining to hear the
sounds of the Seheron wildlife, before finally pulling herself to her feet with
a huff of resignation. “Spoiled me for sleeping alone, you two have,” she
muttered, gathering the blanket and pillows from the bed and stumbling with her
load back into the front room.

The tableau before the hearth was unchanged. She spread the
second blanket over them before crawling in under it herself, attempting to
slide a pillow under Metis’ head without waking him.

She nearly succeeded, but he stirred as she finished and curled
herself against his side. Metis hummed, blinking blearily at her, and Mara
shushed him. “Go back to sleep, darling. It appears we’re camping out.”

Half awake, he glanced at her and then at the fireplace
behind her. “Or in, it seems.” The hand that had been stretched behind his
head, he now rearranged to hold her closer to his side, while Varania, still
stretched out on top of him, sighed in her sleep. “You should know, Mara,” he
murmured, “this daughter of yours is a demanding taskmaster. Had me flying her
around the yard till we wore both ourselves out.”

“As demanding as her father is obliging,” Mara muttered
wryly. When there was no response she glanced over to see that the obliging
father had already fallen asleep again. “Lucky girl,” she added in a whisper,
with a kiss to his cheek before she settled in against his side for the night.

kveikjum:

Varania ❤

roguethedemonhunter:

Did you let Fenris kill his sister? Why or why not?

I did on one play through just to see how it went, but usually [including my canon Hawke’s world state] I don’t. He’s lost enough family and doesn’t need the guilt of killing a sibling; and I like to leave the possibility for them of another chance at reconciliation. In fact I wrote a fic about that second chance. 🙂


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