Confession time? This is the first time I’ve written Fenris. I am nervous and excited, because he was my absolute favorite in DA2 and I am thrilled that we got a Fenaissance with Blue Wraith.

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Fenris jutted his hand through the door, gripping the locking mechanism hard and pulling it out with a sharp twist, much as he would a heart from a chest. 

Every time, some part of him hoped they’d be relieved at the prospect of freedom. But every time, it was the same.

They recoiled away.

Not that he blamed them. He knew too well how powerlessness stoked fear of the uncertain and unknown.

This was a fun challenge! I’ve actually never written Sera before. This is Uprising-era, written to Avira. (Obviously she only knows of the plan, and has no idea what has transpired since.) Transcription under the cut.

(Re: OC Codex Prompts)

ASfkgakgasf thank you so much! I am glad you enjoyed it!!! You have no idea how happy that makes me to hear. I absolutely will be continuing. I have just had a difficult year health-wise and at my job and haven’t had enough of me left over to write. Hopefully something will give soon! 

Full disclosure, nonnie, I’ve been sitting here for about the past 15 minutes trying to figure out to adequately express how humbled I am. 

This is like, the most flattering thing imaginable. The kind of thing I always aspired to, but never thought I could achieve. But if I’ve done that for even one person, well, that means a ton. Thank you so, so much for reading, and for your kind words.  

(Re: Uprising)

Avira hangs there limply, suspended on the magrallen. Her wrists and ankles are rubbed raw by the shackles on the auroboros, the majority of her weight borne by the leather band around her waist. The relentless pressure on her innards makes her want to vomit.

But that would cost her, as it has before, so she fixes her eyes on the giant globule below her that contracts in time with the beat of her heart, the sound echoing off the stone like a foreboding drum. It is always dark in the pits, so she has no sense of time, her pupils blown out in compensation for the absence of the sun. She is impossibly tired, but still unable to sleep or even die. 

She’s made a terrible mistake. How long has she been here? Had all her allies forgotten her, just presumed she was lost and pushed forward? She is not even sure that Solas’ reckoning in the heavens would reach them all the way down here.

Bitterly, she thinks what an arrogant fool she’s been, to assume she was the right person for this task. To have the gall to believe that she, somehow, was uniquely qualified or able. Apparently the power of the Inquisition had gone to her head without her even realizing it. Now, for an oversight so astounding as underestimating the effects of the fucking mark, their cause and her people were doomed, her resigned to languish here in indefinite penance.

Min wouldn’t have made this mistake, Avira knows. I should have sent her in my place. That is a woman with the will to do what must be done, and the full knowledge of what it would take to do it. Avira is a stranger in this land, and her ignorance has been her undoing. For Min, it would have been a triumphant homecoming. 

“I’m sorry…” she mouths to no one in particular, without enough breath left to give it intonation. Her tears splatter against the glass below. “I’ve failed…everyone.” She wishes she truly was a dreamer, as her master so readily believes. The risk to Feynriel is too great for him to stick his neck out to cover for her again, but gods, what she would give to be able to reach out, to have Min’s guidance. Something. Anything. Some beacon of hope. 

The Bleeder enters the room, with that sickeningly serene smile. She does not know how many more thresholds of pain he can bring her across, but she will consider it a mercy if today is the day her body finally fails. It is far too late for her now, so instead she prays to gods for the fate of the world. 

Too bad she doesn’t believe in the gods.