Relaxing at the Warden’s Camp

Alistair mostly tends to the fire when camp is made, and he often gets left in charge of the soup pot, even though everyone has long since learned better, just because he’s actually there.  In his defense, despite his frequent teasing of Leliana, he isn’t a horrific cook.  Only a bad one.  He likes the main campfire though, because he gets to watch others, and wonder just when they started feeling like family.

Morrigan, off to herself, finds herself watching the others more than anything until she gets her mother’s grimoire.  Then she pours over it, reading the same pages over and over again, trying to figure out just what has always struck her as so off about her mother.  Something strange and niggling, something just out of her reach and just behind the words written in a hand she can barely make out.  More than once, she has almost thrown the thing in the fire only to catch herself at the last minute.

Sten dislikes the amount of downtime the Warden insists on, but he realizes that these humans and elves and dwarves are softer than him.  The only one capable of surviving at his pace would be Shale, and while he would be perfectly content traveling with Shale, there is too much riding on the Warden’s shoulders.  After the return of his sword, he finds himself allowing the Warden to draw him in by the fire for stories and dinner.  He hasn’t truly gotten used to the sorts of stories they tell, and he doesn’t always understand why they laugh when they do, but it’s… pleasant.

Leliana often sings or plays the lute that Zevran ‘acquired’ after he’d discovered that she could play.  Sometimes, he joins in when it is a song he knows, and she is always startled to discover that his Orlesian isn’t terrible.  More often than that, however, she simply strums the instrument for an idle tune while she tells stories.  Her and Wynne frequently have small, good-natured contests for the most horrific or most outlandish story they can think of.  It’s always unofficial, and even though they’ve never told the Warden, it’s always the Warden’s reaction that determines the winner.

Shale finds that watching the others is not such a horrible past time.  They are not like other fleshy beings who have been completely inconsiderate, and it is always a startling moment when Shale discovers that they remembered offer an invitation.  Of course, the food is never anything that Shale finds appealing, but the warmth of the fire is not unlike the warmth of the sun, and more importantly, there’s something oddly familiar about the act of sitting around that fire, listening to stories, telling stories half-remembered.  By the time they all go to sleep, Shale is always a little disturbed, and uncertain where the memories come from.

Zevran is generally always doing something, even when the group has stopped for the night.  He is frequently either fixing a broken seam on clothing or cleaning weaponry or sorting the herbs gathered through the day for poisonmaking.  He spreads his herbs out a short ways from the fire, and more often than not, since he and Alistair are some of the last ones to retire, he ends up picking half-finished poisons out of Alistair’s curious hands before Alistair can manage to poison himself.  There’s a certain wry amusement in the motion, as he’s been doing this since he was taught his herbs.  Alistair’s curious hands are no worse than the young compradi who grew into Crows under Zevran’s mentorship.  He doesn’t mention that part to Alistair.

Wynne generally takes over cooking for the evening, once she’s convinced that the camp is safe and that they truly can settle in for the night.  She doesn’t sleep much, but she often goes to bed first, so that no one questions why she’s up so early in the morning.  She spends most of her free time with Shale, quietly watching the sun rise or enjoying the silence of the camp.  Sometimes, she tells stories.  Quiet, easy stories that sound as much as though she’s talking to herself as to Shale, just so in case Shale doesn’t want to listen, there’s no pressure.

Oghren spends quite a bit of his free time drinking, and often with Wynne by the fire while she cooks.  He likes Leliana’s and Zevran’s stories, and he enjoys poking at Alistair and teasing him until the boy turns bright red.  It’s fun.  Not as fun as watching Morrigan pretend she isn’t listening to them though, and sometimes, Oghren will bellow out a loud bar song just for her, just so she feels included even over there by herself.  He knows she knows it for her, because sometimes, she gets this very small smile before she huffs and tosses her head and goes back to regally ignoring them all.

World of Thedas: Morrigan

“She told us her name was Morrigan. Acted like she’d never used a proper fork. Asked strange questions of my lads, like, “why do you go to the Chantry? What purpose is there in it?”  Questions that got the missus upset, until finally she shooed the girl out… The Morrigan girl went quick enough. Turned into a giant bear and lumbered off… Last time we invited the Chasind anywhere.”  

- Local Villager near the Korcari Wilds

Source: World of Thedas Vol 2

Below is Morrigan’s story! Enjoy =)

Keep reading

Dao De Jing, Chapter 78

Translation by A. Waley

Nothing under heaven is softer or more yielding than water; but when it attacks things hard and resistant there is not one of them that can prevail. For they can find no way of altering it.

That the yielding conquers the resistant and the soft conquers the hard is a fact known by all men, yet utilized by none.

Yet it is in reference to this that the Sage said “Only he who has accepted the dirt of the country can be lord of its soil shrines; only he who takes upon himself the evils of the country can become a king among those what dwell under heaven.” Straight words seem crooked.

Interpretation by S. Mitchell

Nothing in the world
is as soft and yielding as water.
Yet for dissolving the hard and inflexible,
nothing can surpass it.

The soft overcomes the hard;
the gentle overcomes the rigid.
Everyone knows this is true,
but few can put it into practice.

Therefore the Master remains
serene in the midst of sorrow.
Evil cannot enter his heart.
Because he has given up helping,
he is people’s greatest help.

True words seem paradoxical.

the signs as dragon age origins quotes

aries:  “congratulations. you found a waste bin.”

taurus: “ASSCHABS

gemini: “can i get you a ladder so you can get off my back?”

cancer: "now, let us crush something soft and watch it fountain blood. that is a girlish thing to want to do, yes?“

leo: “whoo eees thees man, teeGAN??!?”

virgo: “does the story have griffons in it?”

libra: (happy bark!)

scorpio:  "where can I get some sauce for that rump roast?” “right here, you mad dwarven stallion”

sagittarius:  “arr! pirate zevran reporting for duty, prepare to be boarded!“

capricorn:  "you know, one good thing about the blight is how it brings people together”

aquarius: “swooping is bad

pisces: *cailan voice* “GLORIOUS


hi-res x x

An old wip of Alistair and his mabari out hunting that I decided to quickly finish. Inspired by an older drawing I did long ago, because I still adore drawing him in leather armor <3