A smiling Salesa is very much a rare thing.
Salesa Merack was born on the eve of end of the War of the Two Gryphons, as a bastard child of the new lady of Nestrin, Atera Merack, half-siblings to the children of Lady Atera and Lord Leris.
Ship Headcanons Game
Send me a ship of a pairing - preferably those with my OCs - and I’ll give you some headcanons that I think could work with them.
#the bordem is strong#ask game#ship headcanons game#ship headcanons#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#da#dai#amayian trevelyan#alexandra trevelyan#aeralith lavellan#eliandi#jac trevelyan#esmyial trevelyan#asariah ashayrayian#elamirria ashayrayian#ašayias ashayrayian#salesa merack#atera merack#calien merack
herald-divine-hell reblogged
Sneaking Out
A sea of blotted light pooled at the foot of Mount Merakon, shivering beneath the northern winds like fiery waves, in quavering hues of scarlet and gold and orange. Darkness ringed beyond, cloaking Ternan’s Eye and Atharberc, with its sprawling wooden limbs and thickly-strewn leaves, in shadow. The moon was a small disc of silver shivering faint over the Eye’s stilled waters.
Salesa’s cloak was thrown about by a strand of gusting mountain-wind, her silvery-golden hair lifted by its tight plait beneath her hood, and she tugged sharply at her hood, keeping the warmth from Norhall on her cheeks from fading. The night drew closer, thickening the shadows of day until only her torch gave off a smear of amber within the forest of darkness. Still, the white gates, great and large, of Norhall stood silver beneath moonlight, as did the mountain’s crown. Yet darkness was about her and it grew harder to see. A trail of gray smoke, furling westward, sprawled like a ghostly threat in the darkness.
She gazed away from the sealed mountain-gates, toward the wide, sprawling pathway of stone which led curving down the side of the mountain to the Gate of the Stone. Glancing at her black-streaked white gelding, she patted it’s side and pressed a soft kiss to it’s head. “Only an hour or two, Stenvur. Then we’ll come back.” If she stayed out longer, she knew Lord Leris would have stern words with her, and no doubt more if the son of Mer Talis had his way. Already she could feel the heavy weight of those cold eyes, so Nestrinnar in nature, though he hailed from the southern lands of Mer Talis, a son of the Selventians. She shook her head, banishing Lord Leris from her mind, and pressed another kiss to the geldling’s head. “Just a little time, and that’s all. I’ll make sure you’ll get a basket filled of apples.”
The geldling rolled it’s eyes and neighed, throwing back it’s mane of raven-black. A promise Stenvur would remember. He seemed to remember everything she has promised, and ignored all the things she commanded.
Smiling, Salesa hopped onto it’s back, slipping her leather-booted feet with its fur trimming into the stirrups, and grasped at the reins with one hand, kicking the horse gently at its side. Stenvur began his soft gallop, the echoing of the hooves against snow-streaked black stone called out like thunder, or the beating of a drum of war. Bursting wind snapped at her cloak, sending brittle knives into her clothed arms, thick and heavy, but she did not care. The glow of fires burnt the world beneath her feet alive with light, the resting place of the sun it seemed to be.
And for the first time, in a while, Salesa smiled.
Could you tell us more about Salesa?
Salesa Aterack is the daughter of Atera Merack, the Lady-Provincial of Nestrin. Born as a bastard in 4982 AAS, three months before the War of the Two Gryphons had ended, Salesa grew up in the mountain-castle of Norhall, the ancestral seat of House Merack, which had ruled the lands of Nestrin for over eleven thousand years, alongside the legitimate children of Lady Atera Merack and her husband Loris Tarasan, growing close especially with her younger half-brother and heir to Nestrin, Calien.
Quiet, yet never afraid to speak her mind, Salesa thinks herself only tolerated in Norhall due to her mother, and finds herself as an outcast, even among her close friends in the castle. She is sharp and quick of mind, and she knows that once her mother is dead, many lords would try to marry her, and to usurp Nestrin from her brother. This forces her to shut down many romantic relationships with lordlings and servants, who find her beautiful and alluring. She enjoys riding and training with her siblings in the courtyard, and enjoys to read as well. Her coldness often leaves people weary of her all the same.
She has her mother’s height, standing at a middling five-foot-three. Her silvery-golden hair falls down in thick waves, and she often keeps it in a thick braid with silver silks. Her face is often seen as cold, like a mountain of ice, even when it is faintly touched with pink, though she is seen as beautiful all the same. She has small, full lips, and her figure is lean, yet touched with curves and a softness she could not quite get rid of. Her eyes are a blue-silver, sometimes so pale that they seemed white.