Mahariel - Blog Posts

Revisiting DAO and my original Feral Short King™, Tamaris. I'm too broke for new PC

My Mahariel would be over here bustin’ out that Dalish crazy straw with 8+ loops and an umbrella

it’s a secret ritual

Setanta Mahariel, Hero of Ferelden.

I’ve played as a Male Cousland for around three playthroughs of DA: O, but in light of DA: I reveals, the irony of a Dalish Elf having Mythal Vallaslin is just an opportunity that couldn’t be passed up.

SPOILER ALERT

Imagine the hilarity of a Mahariel Warden-Morrigan reunion after the events of Inquisition, wherein Morrigan drank from the well. So many possible scenarios.

“If anyone were to appreciate this situation, it would be your mother." “I can almost hear your mother laughing. Do the voices agree?" “Considering I tried to kill her, I guess we're pretty crappy servants.” “I tried killing one of my people’s gods... I make a bad elf.” “I should be called old god slayer!" “Talk about a controlling in-law…”

(also, I can’t decide between green or brown eyes. He had green eyes in my playthrough but Kieran has brown)

How about 'pulling them closer into their arms' for whoever you want to feel somft about??

Okay yeah, here’s some tent snuggles for Rhiannon and Zevran. 💚

I could warm your bed.

“Not like that, Zev,” she told him.

“What better way is there?” asked the son of a whore, raised by whores.

Rhiannon thought of his mother — who had never gotten to hold her son, to teach him another kind of touch. The others had tried, she was sure, but there was only so much they could have done. And then the Crows came.

So she pulled his hands away from her hips and looped his arm around her waist instead.

He was only slightly shorter and smaller than she, but she still pulled him close as if he weighed next to nothing. His body was tense, only for a moment, then relaxed as she settled his head on her shoulder and put her nose to his scalp. All his tight muscle, rope-firm under his skin, became soft and softer still as she began to play with his long, soft hair.

What was absentminded for her was revolutionary for him. He didn’t seem to know what to do — it was only when she cuffed his wrist again and pulled it around to her back that he finally let his arm drape over her waist. He seemed like he was holding his breath, but then she scratched at a spot at the nape of his neck and he let out a huff of air beneath her ear.

“There you are, love,” she murmured, so quietly she could barely even hear herself.

He pulled back, but his body wasn’t tense — she turned to look down at him, just to find him looking at her with a soft expression in those amber eyes. It was completely unlike when he wanted to kiss her, or tried to turn on the charm. He blinked slowly, hummed as she continued to rub gently at his scalp, then let his eyes droop shut.

Rhiannon lost track of time. The glow of the fire past the canvas wall of their tent dimmed, and dimmed, then was gone. Only blue light remained to cast shadows on Zevran’s relaxed face and highlight each of his long, pale lashes. She lost herself in touching him — smoothing wrinkles from his forehead with the flat of her thumb, pressing the tips of her fingers into the tight, stressed muscles of his shoulders and neck, scratching her nails down his back, over his shirt, to soothe instead of rile up. At some point he began breathing out happy little hums of pleasure at the touch.

By the time she’d nearly drifted off, Zevran had fully relaxed, with his legs entangled with hers and his hand tucked beneath the hem of her shirt to rest against the warmth of her back. She sleepily pulled back again and looked at him, just to find him watching her from beneath nearly-shut lids.

“What?” she chuckled, then touched her nose to his.

He didn’t respond with words — instead, he smiled, then kissed her. Not on the mouth, despite her lips being so near, but on her cheek, then her chin. Then he tucked his face into the curve of her neck and pressed one last, chaste kiss to her throat before humming a contented sigh.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“And I you,” he murmured, “my Grey Warden.”