Local Elf Twice Divorced Despite Having Never Married Everybody Point And Laugh

Last minute addition to tomorrow's theme, don't mind me...

Folklore and History!

City Elf Appreciation Week

~ 5th of August - 11th of August ~

Here are some optional prompts for next week! Please feel free to do whatever you like with them. Remember to tag @cityelfweek or use the tag #cityelfweek24!

Day 1 - Vhenadahl

- A pillar of many alienage communities. Firewood in others.

Day 2 - Folklore and History

- Show the folklore that city elves have created over time. Superstitions, stories, heroes, villains... anything!

Day 3 - Community

- Close-knit family, or claustrophobic little box?

Day 4 - Custom and Tradition

- Andrastian? Dalish? Somewhere in between, or something all new?

Day 5 - Alienage

- The only home many city elves ever know.

Day 6 - OC

- A day to celebrate original city elf characters!

Day 7 - Free Day

- All things city elf!

[original post][divider credit]

i think about this item description a lot

Don't leave me alone. Please...please take me home... — Okay, Shianni. Okay. Let's go home.

City Elf Appreciation Week

Day 5: Alienage

As the eldest Tabris cousin, it is Novhen's familial duty to show his younger cousin Shianni the ropes around Denerim, and in his rogueish mind, this obviously includes how to scam the city's human population. 2666 words.

and a thank you to @cityelfweek for putting all this together (and giving me the motivation to finish this fic) ^.^

YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK

Little dragon age art dump

Deep Roads I miss you. I miss you Deep Roads.

The Last Flight: C A R O N E L 

„I became a Grey Warden not because I wanted to save humanity from the Blight, but because I wanted to save myself. I didn’t care about humanity. If anything, I wanted to watch the shemlen burn just like they tried to burn my family. Given the chance, I would have thrown them all down the Archdemon’s gullet, one by one, and counted myself lucky to have done it.”

Briala! Illustration I did for Ukrainian Dragon Age zine :)

Pairing: Charter & Agent(s) of Fen’Harel (gen) Characters: Charter, Lace Harding, Agent(s) of Fen’Harel, Original Magister Character Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: T Warning: Discussion of Tevinter slave trade Summary: Charter attends a Tevinter party, hoping to deny the Dread Wolf another ancient Elvhen artefact. My gift for @dreadfutures​ as part of the @arlathanxchange​! Thank you again for the opportunity to write this!

Charter has never been one for parties. The air, always thick with the smell of incense and perfume, draws like a rope around her neck. Her high-collared uniform is doing her no favours, either, fabric drawing tight against her skin as she cranes her head to look around the room. Orlesians gossip from behind porcelain masks, their painted smiles jeering like actors in a play. They mingle in a crowd of Rivaini merchants with a wealth of gold rings hoarded on their fingers, and, of course, Tevinter magisters who seem indifferent, at best, to be in attendance at such an affair. Even if it was hosted by one of their own.

She’s loath to admit that, at least in this, they are in agreement.

She’s no stranger to them, but had always preferred attending them as a ghost than as a guest. Here, eyes stick to her before they slide away, lingering a second longer than she’s comfortable with.

For most of the evening, she listens. The conversations are light, any allusion of war and unrest veiled. An Orlesian and an Marcher commiserate over the difficulty of procuring Rivaini goods of late, any mention of the invasion implicit in the complaint.

And no mention of the Wolf that closes in on them all. Tonight, he may as well not exist.

Charter, however, does not have the luxury of feigning safety. She knows a race when she smells one, she only wishes she could tell what she’s racing to. Rumours swirl in crowds far below the one she swims through now that the Dread Wolf’s aim has turned to their host. An unenviable place to be, and she will lose no sleep when that arrow finds its mark, but what turns the Dread Wolf’s gaze now turns hers, as well.

When she finds herself engaged in conversation, she coaxes words from their lips that might trick the best-practised accent, but so far she’s learned nothing but the latest fashions from Val Royeaux.

Hopefully, Lace is faring better than she is.

The crash of a plate cuts through the chatter like a knife through a nobleman’s purse. All eyes snap to the sound, drawn to a gangling elven servant who now stoops over the mess in barely-contained panic.

Read the rest here on AO3!