what is the deal with the world of thedas being delayed

anonymous asked:

HI, I just wanted to say you have a great site. I noticed you put up a number of art drawings and I am not sure if you have looked here but have you seen Matt Rhodes Concept Art for for Dragon Age? It has some great official concept art from Dragon Age 2 including Fenris and Merril. I would love to hear some of your comments on this. The first part is about Mass Effect but halfway down is about Dragon Age. Thanks again.

Hey Nony!

Sorry for the delay getting back to you. We went through quite a few Matt Rhodes posts (the man is everywhere!!) to find the one we thought you were talking about.  Anyone who hasn’t seen Matt’s review of DA2’s concept art is missing out.

All four of the Sisters Wyrd sat down together for tea and to talk about these designs.

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lotheliland  asked:

I have a really simple fic request! After the events of Trespasser, lady Trevelyan has the support from her friends and Cullen. I like to think that she also finds comfort with the Mabari that her husband adopted. Although the hound probably imprinted on Cullen, they begin to create a bond. Mabaris are smart and they know what people say, so he knows what's happening. I find really funny that Mabari was the only invited for the wedding. Could you write about the beggining of their relationship?

The Recruit

**Trespasser Spoilers** Read this on AO3

Cullen is asleep when she finally returns to their quarters. She’d told him not to wait up, that she’d be up late preparing for tomorrow’s council session with Josephine, but it is rare for him to listen to her in such matters. He’s left a candle burning for her in the corner of the room, and she undresses in the dim, golden light. She tries not to notice the hollowness in her chest as she removes her uniform. She’d refused to take it off, even after the end of the council’s emotionally exhausting, but wholly uneventful first day. She couldn’t.

Posturing. Leliana had called it.

Betrayal, was more accurate. The wholesale dismantling of the life she’d rebuilt for herself when the anchor had burned away whatever it was she’d been before. Inquisitor. Herald. Nobody.

Nothing.

Him. She closes her eyes, picturing a lifetime of crooked smiles, and tea without sugar, and losing at chess, and nightmares, and laughter, and more love than she can bear. Of being somewhere small, and doing something unimportant. And she feels the dread that she hadn’t even realized was wrapped around her heart, unwind, bit by bit.

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