These Were Really Fun To Do!! I Only Ended Up Doing Six But Hey, Yall Got Cool Characters

these were really fun to do!! i only ended up doing six but hey, yall got cool characters

first row @purahs, @noswordstyle, @brownalistair

second row @red-wardens, @tehsammutna, @deadenddaydreams

. Reference used.

little zev from 2020 !;)

Thank you so much, Em! I love it! The look in Kelton's eyes is so gentle :")) And I absolutely adore Gwen in your art style!💖💖💖

tea time for Kelton & @tehsammutna 's Gwen :3

for russian DA ask

flower’s meaning: • hollyhock - ambition • aconite - misanthropy • fennel - resistance • mandrake - magic power • coltsfoot - mother’s care

Third time’s the charm (right?)

A three-part series of unsuccessful kiss attempts between @serphena ‘s OC Soraya and Morrigan, as a gift for her. Day 14 for the Dragon Age Lover’s Prompts Event. @14daysdalovers  

(Happy Valentines!)

Summary: After sucessfully retreiving and gifting Morrigan the Grimoire, taken from the Circle of Magi, Soraya is left surprised when the mage shows her gratitude with a tender kiss on the cheek. This leads to Morrigan distancing herself slightly and three more attempts of sharing a kiss. 

1. by a thread 

She had noticed the woman sitting by herself, leaning onto one angled knee as she looked at the dark sky. The fire had long since gone out, leaving only gleaming embers behind - the only warm colour that stood out against all the dark, bluish-hues surrounding the camp. 

Morrigan’s dark hair, still in the typical knot, even if slightly messier now, blended into the dark of night with ease. Given the looks of it, she must have run her hand through it several times, leaving it dishevelled. 

Something was occupying her mind.   

Having stepped closer, Soraya cleared her throat to announce her presence, not wishing to startle Morrigan.

“Enjoying the night air?” Despite speaking quietly, the elf’s voice sounded weirdly displaced in the lasting quiet. 

“Mhm. There is peace in moments like these.” 

“I quite agree.” 

Folding her hands behind her back, the Warden rose a brow when Morrigan did not look up at her. 

Instead, the mage’s shoulders dropped with an exhale ever so slightly. Yet it did not escape the elf’s observant eye.

“Are you alright? You seem troubled.”

Not even then did Morrigan raise her eyes from the grass.

“Thinking. ‘Tis all.”

 “I see. Care to share your thoughts?” Soraya asked, softer. 

“No.” The reply was hesitant. And yet, the human woman finally raised her eyes at the elf.  “But you can keep me company if that is what you wish.”

She awoke with a racing heart, feeling her fingers aching from clutching at her shirt. The greenish, brightly flashing images lingered behind in her mind, the deafening roar that had felt as if it had shaken the ground still reverberating through her body. And yet, everything was silent apart from several sets of loud snores coming from across the campsite. 

The dreams of the archdemon did not plague her frequently, but that did not diminish the intensity with which they came to her when they did. 

Alistair had not been kidding. It was indeed a nasty thing to wake up to.

Greedily inhaling the cold night air, Soraya sat up and rubbed her neck, trying to relax the strained muscles. One look at the sky was telling enough. 

Dawn would not be ascending on them any time soon. It seemed she had not slept for long. 

She couldn’t remember drifting off to sleep, but by the feeling in her neck and the numbness of her arm, it seemed she had not been planning to. The two women had lain down onto the grass after a long while of shared, comfortable silence. None had appeared to mind it, indulging in the moment of comfort instead.

 Morrigan still lay beside her, her delicate hair tousled and covering half her face. Soraya let her eyes trail down her figure. It was a strange sight to see her peacefully sleeping this close, almost vulnerable, which she seldom let on to be.  And despite all, the position Morrigan had involuntarily fallen asleep in did not resemble much comfort either. Judging by the ache in her own neck, Soraya knew that the woman would wake up feeling no different. 

Leaning over carefully, resting one arm on the ground next to Morrigan’s shoulder, the warden reached under the woman’s nape as gently as she could to move it ever so slightly, into a less taxing position. The black strands of hair against her palm were soft, making her hold on longer and savour the touch. Even with a hand at her head, the elf felt Morrigan’s chest rise and drop with every breath in an even pattern. 

As she looked at the pale face before her, eyes shut and lips slightly parted, Soraya’s heart began to race again. This time however not because of nightmares. 

The kiss Morrigan had placed so tenderly on her cheek was still fresh in her mind. It had been quick and fleeting, not more than a split second. A simple thank you for retrieving the grimoire from the circle of magi. And yet, it had been a kiss. Morrigan’s lips meeting her skin in a swift movement, sending shivers down her spine. And with that, the human mage had left it at. She had retreated right after, distancing herself from the elf, not bringing it up ever since. 

Now, with her face so close, the Warden was being pulled in, as if by a fragile thread being wound up, closer and closer. She could lean in. Give in.

Instead, she stopped herself short, mere inches from Morrigan’s face. 

Her long, dark eyelashes were even more visible this close, the lone mole over her lip moving with the quirk of her lips as she slept.

No, it wouldn’t be right. No matter how much her heart longed for it. It wouldn’t be right not to ask for permission, not to know whether Morrigan would pull back or pull her in. So she didn’t lean in. Did not give in.

Soraya smiled wistfully as she stroked the hair covering Morrigan's face aside, delicately tucking it behind the woman’s ear, giving her a long look before sitting up, one knee angled and face directed at the sky. 

The clouds hovering over them had begun to darken much quicker than they had expected, not giving them time to return to camp or find much of a shelter to hide from the sudden downpour that had followed. 

 2. bewitched

The heavy, almost torrential rain had caught them by surprise, leaving none of the company untouched. All, without exception, were dripping, clothes clinging to their bodies uncomfortably when they finally spotted a potential safe harbour from the rain: In the form of dilapidated remnants of what once was an elven ruin deep in the Brecilian forest.

“Ferelden…” Zevran muttered to himself, turning his Antivan leather boots over and watched the litre of water pour from one and then the other. 

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a bit. Won’t be much use fighting under such an onslaught of rain without being able to see anything.” Alistair wiped his eyes clean, droplets of rain trickling from his hair. “Otherwise, I might mistake you for an actual, real bear, Morrigan.”

“‘Tis quite possible. That would give me a good excuse to bite you.” 

 “You need an excuse for that?” grinning up at her, he feigned surprise.

The Warden stood by the white, chapped pillar, ascending upwards thrice the size of her. The tips of her boots were facing the line separating the dry ground from the squelching mud that had soon turned to a makeshift stream, flushing branches and stones past them. Shielding her eyes from the rain, Soraya looked at the sky, estimating how long they needed to wait out the worst of the rain. Not long it seemed. It was heavy rain, but one that would start intensely and dwindle quite quickly again. 

“Get comfortable. But not too comfortable. We’ll be able to go on soon.” 

“Wading through that mud? Marvellous.” Clicking his tongue, Zevran turned towards Alistair, who had sat down on an overturned piece of elven construction, joining the elf in emptying the water from his boots.

Morrigan stood next to another pillar, once meant to support the rear part of the building. Having removed the hood from her head, she leaned against the stone, arms crossed over her chest. When she noticed Soraya approaching, her defensive stance slowly relaxed, body turning towards the elf. 

“I do so love the feel of wet clothes.”

“Who doesn’t? Especially in the cold.” Soraya gave the woman a playful smile, sitting down on a broken off, broad stone, stretching out her limbs. 

Morrigan inclined her head towards the Warden. “Are you cold?” 

“Freezing.”

Wordlessly, the mage sat down on the stone and held out her right hand towards the elf. 

Raising a brow, the Warden understood the motion to place her hand into Morrigan’s and did so without questioning the intent.

“The other one as well.”

Complying again, the elf looked at the woman in front of her, whose face was directed at where they touched.

Placing her own left hand onto Soraya’s, Morrigan’s hands started to tingle against the Warden’s skin, radiating a controlled, pleasant ray of warmth. 

Soraya raised her eyes at the mage once more, a gentle smile on her face

“Thank you.”

“‘Tis nothing. Merely a simple spell,” Morrigan said softly, looking up at again. Her eyes were striking as ever, and yet her usual, very carefully applied makeup had suffered the consequences of the heavy rain, slightly smeared and running down her cheek.

Pointing at her own eyes, Soraya moved her finger to indicate the state of Morrigan’s makeup. 

“Lean in. I’ll fix your makeup for you.” 

Nodding, a hint of a smile now crossed Morrigan’s lips as the human woman leaned forward.

Moving closer, knees touching, the elf pulled her sleeve over her tumb, lightly wiping at Morrigan’s face. The cloth slightly damp from the rain, it took care of most of the areas that needed fixing. 

Moving her covered thumb softly, barely even touching the skin, Soraya put her free hand onto the back of Morrigan’s head to support it. Her hair was wet, falling in strands where it loosened from the knot, cold against Soraya’s palm.

Only when her eyes moved from Morrigan’s lower lid to her eyes, did she notice the position the two of them were in. Soraya had leaned in fully for better visibility, her hand on the nape of Morrigan’s neck. Morrigan herself was looking into her eyes, face mere inches from Soraya’s. The Warden swallowed imperceptibly, eyes locking onto Morrigan’s until they dropped down to her lips, slightly blue from the cold. She wasn’t entirely sure but it seemed like Morrigan had leaned in even closer, following Soraya’s gaze.

The hand that had been wiping at the woman’s makeup was now cradling her cheek.

Alistair’s voice rang out from behind the Warden, armour clinking as he stood up from the overturned pillar. “Hey. I think the rain is stopping. We should get going before the Maker decides to send an earthquake right after.” 

Chuckling, Zevran voiced his agreement.

3.wine red 

Voices rang out from the fire. Earsplitting as ever, the dwarf gave a bellowing laugh after one of Zevran’s lewd jokes. 

Everyone was in a good mood. Even Sten seemed to make more than dismissive sounds during the avid conversations of the others. 

“Or another set of very bothersome bears.”

They had stopped by the Denerim Market before returning back to camp, spending the gold the Kantor had given them mere moments ago, without any regrets. No one had objected to the decision of getting a few alcoholic beverages to let the evening die down. 

On the contrary.

Wynne had turned out to be a connoisseur in disguise, much to the disbelief of Oghren, who since had not stopped poking her with questions and expecting her to list every single ingredient in every single bottle they had purchased. 

“I managed to snag one bottle before Oghren could get his grubby hands on this one as well.” Soraya laughed, tips of her pointy ears red from the previous round of drinks. Shaking the bottle in her hand, causing the liquid inside to jostle against the glass, she approached Morrigan with a grin. 

The woman had left the circle by the fire after a while, distancing herself from the ridiculous spin the bottle game, as Morrigan had put it. 

“Must’ve been quite the struggle. Lose your hand?”

Soraya simply shook her head. “He is absolutely plastered. My reflexes were quicker.”

Morrigan gave her an amused snort that possibly resembled a sound of approval.

“What is it?” the woman asked right after, eyes trailing from the bottle to the elf holding it.

“Not quite sure. I think it’s wine.”

 “Oh, good. No need to worry about alcohol poisoning then.”

“Yet.” The warden shrugged her shoulders in a chuckle, sitting down next to Morrigan, where the grass was already flattened, indicating her previous position.  

A shrill yelp came from the group by the fire, followed by an exasperated ‘You did what?’ of Alistair, only to be drowned out by a wave of laughter. A very shocking truth must’ve been revealed.

“Here. You get to have the first swig.” 

The Warden held out the bottle to Morrigan, who took it without hesitation.

“Oh? How very kind of you. Are you secretly making sure it is not poisoned?”

“You wound me. I simply care about you.”

Bottle already on her lips, Morrigan visibly paused in her action after hearing Soraya’s reply. Recovering quickly, she took a second, more hearty sip than before. 

“It is dreadful,” she said, handing the bottle back to the sniggering, clearly tipsy elf. The human woman was faring no better, however.

The Warden raised her brow with a smirk. “Quite a long sip for a dreadful drink, no?” 

“Well, it could be worse.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Morrigan watched the Warden, without averting her eyes.

Bottle in hand, Soraya couldn’t help but think of Morrigan’s lips that had rested against the glass mere second earlier. Subconsciously, it sent her heart racing.

Tilting her head backwards in drinking, the Warden caught Morrigan's eyes on her exposed neck, feeling more heat spreading over her face. Perhaps it was also on behalf of the alcohol.

“You were right. It is dreadful.” 

It wasn’t. It tasted sweet and yet not too intense, with the fruity aftertaste of cherries ensuing after she had set the bottle down on the stump behind them.

A trace of a gentle smile played across Morrigan’s face as she looked at the Warden, sitting beside her. Her eyes had moved from Soraya’s neck to her eyes where her gaze had lingered - until it settled on her lips.

Unsure whether it was the alcohol that caused the sudden rush of confidence, Soraya leaned forward, heart-pounding. Carelessly lifting her hand towards Morrigan’s cheek, the elf had not considered the placement of the bottle, knocking it over and down onto the woman’s lap.

“Oh blast it. Sorry,” inhaling in surprise, the Warden instantly reached for the bottle, as Morrigan pulled back in surprise with a gasp. 

“Here, let me...wipe that for you.”

Reassuringly, Morrigan placed a hand onto Soraya’s thigh. “It’s quite alright. I’ll just go change.” 

“You two still got anything left? We’re out of drin- By the tits of my ancestors!”  Shock passing through his face, the dwarf that had approached them frantically gestured at the bottle, sounding utterly heartbroken at the sight before him. 

“Not the booze!”