The Power of Words

So one of the things keeping me occupied right now (yay, hyperfocus!) is creating/updating/maintaining my DAI compilation site. I'm not actively in the DAI modding community anymore after finally figuring out I'm just not a good fit, but I still like keeping lists of mods, and it makes sense to make them available for everyone's use. It ALSO makes sense to maintain these lists somewhere other than Tumblr, which is where they started. Bonus; i can use HTML code that I couldn't use on Tumblr.

So if any of y'all are interested, feel free to check it out. Feedback is appreciated and welcome!

Aside from that, I'm still working on the next Act of my AU longfic where Dorian becomes Inquisitor. I still am in love with the story and what I have in store. I keep having new ideas--some brilliant, some 'oh hell nah'--even as I write the story, so I'm glad I'm approaching the writing in a 'novel' fashion. That is, I'm approaching each Act as a novel and write it in its entirety before publishing. As an experiment, it's producing a much better story than if I had simply published chapters as I finished them, so I'm pleased with the results enough to keep doing it that way.

At any rate, that's pretty much my world outside of work. Pablum at best, but I'm happy so I'm sticking with it.

So I thought I'd come back and dust off my Dreamwidth / verify my password / etc after Tumblr announced yet more shenanigans. It's not that I use social media a lot, but at least Tumblr was an easy way to share art/stories/gush over fandom stuff/etc without having the morality police tutting your tongue for longer than it took to hit the block button. I don't have skin in the battle, since I am only a writer (unless you're into stick figure porn, which would be the limit of my artistic ability), but the way they're implementing this smacks of a ham-handedness that doesn't bode well for how they handle the Article 13 rollout.

So. Wat do?

It's interesting, though, because my last post on DW (in 2015, oops) was a vague speculation about how I was going to deal with Major Life Decision (tm). Well, I've galloped well beyond that Major Life Decision (tm) and am happier than I have been in years. It was just odd to read the me from back then.

Thankfully things got better.

So we'll see how much I use Dreamwidth, since, as I said, I don't often use social media, but at least it's here. I just need to find more peeps!

Dragon Age: Inquisition One-Shot

(inspired in part by this amazing piece of art by enigmaticagentalice​, but also because I woke up with the sads and had to write them out)
 

Rating: General Audience
Characters: Cassandra Pentaghast, Corypheus, Martin Trevelyan
Additional Tags: In Hushed Whispers, Alternate Future, Character Study, Dark, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Friendship
 

---

The sound came once more, echoing like the drums in her head that never ceased. The rumble and roar as something heavy landed heavily in the courtyard of the Castle was a familiar sound to those locked within the dungeon of Redcliffe Castle by this point, and they knew exactly what it meant: the Elder One had arrived.

Cassandra pushed herself up, though it took more effort than it had on previous days. She’d made an oath to herself when she’d been thrown in this cell, after the Herald had been destroyed by the Magister’s spell: they would never find her helpless. When her time came, she would die fighting.

It was the only way to stay sane, to dim the sound of the drums.

Each time he came to her, it grew harder to remember that oath. The red in her vision now was due to the red lyrium and not her anger, and her body knew nothing but pain with every movement, when the crystals ground into her bones and flesh. Soon she would be like Fiona, a prisoner of the red shards in her body, unable to move and unable to resist.

So she had to resist now, while she still could. And that was why she was on her feet, ready to face him, when the door opened and the tall figure glided into the room.

“Seeker.” His greeting never changed, a smug declaration both of her nature and the reason for his visit. “I see you still suffer from the delusion that there is hope for you. It’s rather charming, actually.”

She held on to her silence, knowing it infuriated him the most. Defiance he mocked, and anger only amused him, but silence? It was her way if ignoring him.

And the Elder One hated to be ignored.

“I see you are back to playing this tiresome game,” he noted with a sigh. “I learned how to break the Seekers long ago, remember. Samson was very useful for that endeavor. I can break you, too.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed, remembering when they had proved it to her, remembering the sight of her fellow Seekers killing Inquisition soldiers and their families. The words of a prayer rose to her lips, but did not emerge. She would not let him win.

“Then I will ask the question, as I always do: will you join me?” The long arm stretched out, the talons that were his fingers unfolding as he once again made the offer.

Cassandra knew that the pain would start if she didn’t answer quickly enough, and each time he came to her cell, she came one step closer to doing as he wished. But that time had not yet come. When the pain hit, a rope of red magic which wove around her body and lit all her nerves on fire at once, she simply crumpled to her knees, breathing harshly and still refusing to look at him.

“I’m sure you will be overjoyed to hear that we have found the last of your long lost friends from the Inquisition.” His voice was, as always, smooth, hypnotic, compelling - but the words... the words remained horrifying. “Some of my pets will be enjoying the company of the Commander for quite some time to come. He even seemed to recognize some of them. Old friends, perhaps?”

Cassandra’s whole body shook, both from pain and in reaction to what she’d learned. She knew what his pets were. If Cullen were lucky, they would only be shades and rage demons. If he were unlucky... The week when she’d been pushed into Nightmare’s realm still haunted her, and she knew she would never be able to sleep through a night again, even were she to be miraculously healed. His dark chuckle echoed through the dank jail as she whispered, “No. Not Cullen, not with them.”

”It won’t take long to break him. The weakness is already there, laced through his body like a bright blue beacon, and the demons have been waiting a long time for him,” the Elder One taunted. “Soon we will turn it red, and he will be a shining star. For a while.”

She shuddered, remembering the rumors of Samson’s fate once the armor had no longer been able to hold back the rising tide of red lyrium. “Cullen...” She bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”

“You could have taken this burden from him. But you chose instead your own way, your own pride. I will let you see him one last time - when I send him to kill you.” The Elder One chuckled as she flinched. “It has been a pleasure as always, my dear. Perhaps next time, you will submit, as is necessary. Until then...” A gesture banished the spell around her, and she collapsed on the floor, welcoming the darkness as it closed in.

His parting words, however, chased her into oblivion: “Remember that the world belongs to me.”

How many hours it took for her to regain her senses, or how many minutes it took for her to push herself into a sitting position, she never knew. The drums in her mind woke her, as always, and for a long time, she simply sat there, trying to quiet them. She only knew that she was as close to hopeless as she had been since she had seen the Herald destroyed. Was it worth it? Was there truly a reason for her to keep fighting? The Elder One spoke the truth, after all - there would never be a future without him in it.

Taking a calm, steadying breath, she closed her eyes and turned to the Chant, as she always did. Though she started weak, the further she progressed, the stronger her voice became.

“Many are those who wander in sin,
Despairing that they are lost forever,
But the one who repents, who has faith
Unshaken by the darkness of the world,
And boasts not, nor gloats
Over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight
In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know
The peace of the Maker's benediction.
The Light shall lead her safely
Through the paths of this world, and into the next.
For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.”

When she paused to take a deep breath, she heard a dear voice, an impossible voice, whisper her name. “Cassandra.”

Her eyes flew open, finding a phantom before her. Her eyes widened as she saw the Herald, the same as the day she’d last seen him. With a gasp, she said, “You’ve returned to us. Can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance?” He had appeared when she had been speaking the Chant, after all...

But no. The past year simply wouldn’t let her believe that. The sight of him filled her with an overwhelming sense of guilt, for those who had died - or worse, had been lost to the Elder One and his ‘pets’. Even as he reached into his glove and pulled out his ever-present lockpick to open the door to her jail cell, she cried, “Maker forgive me. I failed you. I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life.”

A sad little smile came to his face as he stepped into her cell. Without a word, he crouched in front of her and took her hand, holding it between his own as his unsullied green eyes met hers. “I’m not back from the dead, Cassandra. I just got... Well, this is hard to explain.”

But explain he did, he and the Tevinter mage with him, as he helped her to her feet. It sounded impossible, a miracle, but then, this was the same man who had emerged from the Fade, alive when all others at the Conclave had died. This was the Herald of Andraste, Martin Trevelyan, and before the events in Redcliffe’s throne room a year ago, she would have sworn that he could overcome any obstacle, no matter how difficult.

Perhaps it was time to believe in him again.

“You’re here now,” she said decisively.

He smiled and nodded. “I’m here now. I will fix this. I promise.”

Andraste has given another chance. Sending a silent prayer to the Maker and his Bride, Cassandra nodded. “And I will help you. As always.”

The end of the year is fast approaching, and I must say 2015 has taken me several places I never expected. I won't bore anyone with the details, but in hindsight, I think I am where I need to be. I'm looking into all sorts of possible paths to go from here, and I *still* wake up and am grateful I don't have to go back to that job.

Yes, finances are tight; yes, it is worrying that I have so much up in the air; yes, the future concerns me. But it's taken me weeks to pull myself out of the pit that I had slowly descended into due to work. I'm not completely out of it, but having this time off to really and truly recharge my batteries has been so amazing, I feel more like 'me' than I have in years, at least, without having to fake it till I made it.

So that's good, I think.

Mainly, I'm just exciting that I'm writing again, that I'm excited about my writing again. I have one more major fanfic work to complete, and then the next big projects will be my Inquisitor fic and my original novel. I have such feels for both, it's weird to think about actually writing them. But it's better to concentrate on that than to worry about the job (or lack of it), or to fret about low readership numbers, or to experience existential morbid dread.

I'll write, and play, and enjoy myself, and try not to worry. Easier said than done, but I couldn't even formulate those words two months ago. So I've made progress.

Here's to 2016! 

Rating: Teen
Fandom: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford (Past, Implied)
Characters: Cullen Rutherford, Cassandra Pentaghast, Other
Additional Tags: Post-Trespasser, Past Relationship, Magister Dorian
Summary: When Cullen receives an unexpected visitor, nothing could have prepared him for who actually showed up on his doorstep.


The knock at the door caught Cullen by surprise, since he wasn’t expecting anyone to arrive until late that afternoon. Setting his book aside, he stood and went to the front door, where, of course, he found Dorfus already waiting patiently so he could see who had come to visit. After a quick scratch behind the Mabari’s ears, Cullen reached for the door handle. “Cassandra, is that you? You’re earlier than I expected.”

When the door opened, however, it was not to reveal Cassandra, or any of the other visitors he was expecting. Instead, a boy no older than twelve stared up at him, grey eyes wide with fright as he thrust out a folded piece of paper towards Cullen.

A chill ran along Cullen’s spine as he looked at those eyes before he slowly took the paper. Before he could even open it, the boy blurted, “Please, ser, may I come in?”

Cullen noted the way the boy glanced back behind him as he asked the question, and also the twitching of his hands as he shifted from foot to foot. Refugee... and I think I know from where. “Yes, of course.” He stepped back and gestured the boy to enter.

He bolted inside, moving to a corner out of sight of the windows, then sagged back against the wall. Once there, his gaze turned to Cullen and remained there, unwavering.

Taking a deep breath, Cullen closed the door and headed back to his chair, feeling the eyes on him the entire way. Sitting carefully so as to minimize the ever-constant aches, he ran a hand through his silvered hair and looked at the paper. His name was on it, writ in a style he well recognized though it had been ten years since he’d last seen it. He glanced up at the boy. “You’d be Adrian, then?”

The boy nodded hesitantly. “I am, ser.”

Cullen closed his eyes for a moment. He dreaded to ask the question, but feared to read the note in his hand until he knew. “And your father?”

That finally made the boy look away, the pain on his face answering the question even before he replied, “Dead, ser.”

The hollowness in those two simple words shattered Cullen’s heart, as thoroughly as seeing the ring on Dorian’s finger all those years ago at Halamshiral. “I see,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Give me a moment to read the letter, then." The boy nodded and slid down the wall to settle into a crumpled heap, though he accepted Dorfus' presence readily enough when the Mabari moved to sit next to him.

With shaking fingers, Cullen unfolded the worn and worried paper. His heart broke anew when he read the first word.

Amatus,

If you are reading this, then I have met the same fate as my father. Maevaris was murdered last week, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out who is next on that short list. Since I am a genius, I am taking care to ensure that poor Adrian doesn't get caught in the crossfire.

I am sorry to impose on you like this, but there is no other man - indeed, no other person - to whom I would entrust my son. Perhaps you can help him to avoid the fate I forged for myself. At the very least, you can find him a duty which does not bind him to his own deceit and death.

Cullen had to stop reading for a while to wipe away the tears blurring his vision. Stubborn, foolish mage, he thought with a sigh.

There were only a few more lines, written in a sloppier hand, as if Dorian's hand shook while writing them.

For myself, I have done all I can for my country. It has taken my love, my pride, and my years - why not my life? It is better than when I came into this world, and I can only hope those who Mae and I have mentored will continue the fight. Do not regret my death, Amatus, for I do not.

For you... There was a large ink blot there, as if Dorian had pressed the quill into the paper for quite some time. I can only say that walking away was the hardest and worst decision of my life. I hope you have been well with that slobbering beast of yours. I only wish we

The letter stopped there abruptly with a raw quill scratch - no signature, nothing. He looked over to Adrian, not surprised to see him collapsed in slumber on top of Dorfus - the hound had an uncanny sense for those in need of comfort.

Setting the paper aside, he stood and moved to stand in front of the boy for a moment. The resemblance was not striking, but his parentage was clear, even if the eyes hadn't been so hauntingly familiar. Cullen pressed his lips together for a moment, then leaned down and gently gathered the boy into his arms. Adrian didn't stir even when Cullen put him under the blankets, and given his light weight, it was obvious the boy hadn't eaten well in some time.

Dorfus hopped up onto the bed and collapsed next to Adrian, though he did press his head against Cullen for a moment with a little whine before settling in closer to the boy.

"I'll be fine. You keep watch on him," Cullen told Dorfus sternly, and half-smiled with the Mabari whuffed in return. For another moment, Cullen stared at Adrian, then reached out and brushed some unruly hair from his forehead. "Welcome home," he said softly.

Then he turned and left the room, to mourn elsewhere.

On the one hand, joining the ranks of the unemployed unexpectedly always, always feels awful, no matter how you try to cadge or qualify it. Even worse because in a lot of ways, I really wanted to keep that job as long as I could (though as an Aspie, keeping *any* job for a long period of time seems to be difficult to the extreme).

I feel more vulnerable now, given I am in a single income household (whereas the last time I was unemployed, I was still married and could scrape by on that income if necessary). I'm older, which is never good for the job market in technology, and I have a lot of short employment jobs on my history.

On the other hand... I was on my way to an ulcer, I wasn't sleeping well, and the first sensation after the burst of panic was sheer relief, which I still feel every once in a while. I don't have to put up with that shit anymore, with the expectations that I somehow turn into a people person when I'm *clearly* not, that I don't have to guide something as important as a financial transition for the institution through its next stages. Ultimately, as much as the job had benefits that seemed to fit, it was (since acquiring a new head boss of the department) becoming a worse and worse match for me personally and ability-wise.

So I'm sad at losing a job that seemed a good fit, but the loss began months ago, not last week. I'm bad at knowing when to step away, so I'm relieved the decision was made for me, odd as it may sound.

Financially... we'll just have to see. I won't be desperate until next year, and I do have plenty of experience and technical know-how in the field. Maybe I'll use this as an opportunity to go into a related career like I've been tempted to do over the last few years.

So... mixed feelings city indeed. Hopefully I'll be able to find my writing groove in a few days, but for now, I'm really just enjoying... relaxing and not worrying about work. Until the burden was lifted, I didn't realize how much it weighed on my shoulders. Kinda like my marriage. *sigh*

I think wine and nachos are on the menu for tonight.

Again, another day where I honestly thought I wouldn't meet my goal because 1) work kind of sucked and 2) when I finally had a chance to sit down after work (and after finishing work after getting home *sigh*), I felt no motivation or ability to write whatsoever.

But then I skipped to a completely different part of the story, and the muse suddenly woke up again. So yay for that! Day three: 1806 words, for a total of 5872!

And, because I met the goal for today, have a little excerpt:

----------------------

Fuck.

Dorian gripped his left wrist tightly as he glared at the landscape around him. Oh, he recognized this place, all right.

Damnation.

Rocks floated above them, seemingly unconcerned with such little things as weight or the natural order of things. Mist clung to rocks, things in the distance hurt to look at properly, and, above all, everything was a grimy, greasy green that assailed his senses almost as badly as the throbbing pain in his palm.

Fuck and damnation.

“Call me crazy,” Alistair noted, “but this doesn’t look like the best situation we could have dropped into, hmm?”

Dorian glanced up. Up, because the man was standing sideways on a nearby rock, looking comfortably upright save that his up was Dorian’s right. “That is an understatement,” Dorian snarled, then took a deep breath. By the end of the breath, he had forced a smile onto his face. “On the other hand, perhaps this could be like the first time I was here. There was a castle in the clouds, and an entirely too handsome desire demon who offered me wine and a massage in exchange for my soul. Why, it was almost like being back home.”

All right, so today's word count came in at 2363. Official Word Counting has begun!

As I'll do every day I meet the word goal (1667 words), I'll post a little excerpt from the day's writing, no context given. So here is the excerpt from today. Enjoy!

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“You’re not playing fair.” Cullen would have added more, but a wave of dizziness washed over him and he quickly put his hands on the mattress behind him to compensate.

“I’m not going to ask how many drinks you had,” Alistair said quietly as he tugged the second boot off, “or when you started drinking today. I’m not going to ask how long it’s been since you’ve had a proper rest, or looked at yourself in the mirror. I don’t need to.” Setting the boot next to the other one, he settled back to sit on his heels and met Cullen’s gaze. “I heard what happened, and I heard the other rumors.” Reaching out, he squeezed Cullen’s knee with a sympathetic look on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Cullen’s eyes squeezed shut, and he took a deep breath. “So am I,” he said softly.

Rising to his feet, Alistair settled himself onto the bed next to Cullen. “Do you have anyone to talk about her with? Anyone at all?”

After a moment of forcing himself to consider the question, Cullen finally said, “I do, I just…” His voice trailed off.

“--haven’t actually talked to anyone. No, no, I get it,” Alistair said with a sigh.

In an effort to wash the bad taste of Tumblr nonsense from my mouth, I've set a December goal to play through my other favorite series - Assassin's Creed. (Why December? November is NaNoWriMo month.)

I'm hoping it will help me get back into playing DAI, which I am mentally incapable of right now. I think that should give me a sufficient break, anyway.

At least I can still write DAI-related fic. To a degree. *whee*

And for those who still haven't seen it yet...

The Inquisitor Dorian artwork I commissioned from xla-hainex:





Maker, it's so gorgeous!