A fan event to show your love and appreciation for all things City Elf. Beginning the first Monday of August.
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Latest Posts by cityelfweek - Page 3
I COME BEARING PROMPTS: "are you falling asleep?" for Kallian x Alistair (Allian? Kalistair? I like Kalistair)
thank you effe!! 🥰
some kallistair for my first ever @dadrunkwriting :3 [prompt]
rated g. warden tabris/alistair. 481 words. pre-relationship tension. there's only one bed 👀
Shale kept watch, both on their surroundings and on Zevran. Morrigan had her own little camp not too far away. Bodahn and Sandal slept in their caravan. Sten and Pether shared a tent. Leliana and Wynne shared another.
That left one.
Between Ciarth taking up far too much space than he needed, and Alistair being as big as he was, Kallian felt... squished.
Her mabari had fallen asleep as close as possible, almost cuddling with one leg thrown across her. She didn't mind, it was winter after all. Plus he was cute.
It did, however, ensure that she and Alistair were pressed up against each other, arm to arm.
Despite their flirting – Kallian refused to see it as more than that – tent sharing was always a very clinical, matter-of-fact affair with the two of them in a way it wasn't with anyone else. There were no whispered conversations, no huddling for warmth, and no stifled giggles. Just two quick goodnights and a see you in the morning.
Things felt... different after the Circle Tower.
"Are you asleep?" Alistair whispered, breaking their longstanding tradition.
"Yes," she replied automatically, staring up into nothingness. He huffed a laugh.
"Are you... are you falling asleep?" he tried again.
"'m trying to."
"Sorry. It... it's just been on my mind."
Kallian didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to pretend she had no idea what he was talking about, it was just too... complicated otherwise.
"Don't worry about it," she whispered after a while. "It was the demon, it doesn't... it doesn't mean anything."
"But what if it does?" he answered with no hesitation, like an arrow to her chest.
"What do you mean?" she asked weakly.
"Nothing," Alistair sighed, before doing the unthinkable. He turned around to face her, laying on his side. Slowly, she shifted to do the same, trying not to disturb Ciarth too much.
"You mean a lot to me, Kall," he muttered, impossibly close and a million miles away. It was too dark for her to properly see him, only a hazy outline that sent her heart hammering against her chest.
"Regardless of..." he trailed off. "You're the only other Warden in Ferelden. You're my friend. I don't want things to be weird just because–"
"They're not weird," she lied quickly. "You... you mean a lot to me too, Al."
If it was just earlier during the day. If the moon hadn't been obscured by dark clouds. If their tent had been closer to the campfire.
Kallian might have been able to make sense of the heavy tension that had softly landed over them. She might have been able to make out more than just Alistair's shallow breath, and her quaking fingertips.
"Goodnight," he whispered, his breath ghosting over her lips. Impossibly close. A million miles away.
"Goodnight," she murmured. "See you in the morning."
City Elf Appreciation Week - Day 6!
Please remember to tag @cityelfweek or use the tag #cityelfweek24 so your works can be reblogged! Today's optional prompt is original characters - but anything that's focused on city elves is welcome, new and old!
Alienage Soundscapes
For City Elf Appreciation week (organized by @cityelfweek), I present here the main project I have been working on: a collection of a few Alienage soundscapes, featuring songs written by me and sung to melodies invented by me too. The surrounding soundscape are free sounds from pixabay. Making this has been a ton of fun, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did making it. Cheers! ^^
(Below are the links to the posts with each soundscape. They feature the soundscape itself, the lyrics, the audio of the song without the background noises, and a short introduction to the soundscape written in the style of in-game codex entries.)
Alienage Lullaby, performed by a mother
Andraste and Shartan (explicit and irreverent), performed by a teen
Marital Duo: A Performance
Mother, Let Your Kids Go Home, performed by a dockworker
The Rose on My Cheek (rated teens and up), performed by a tired scullery maid
Who Will Your Lover Be? A singing game performed by children
(ID: A screenshot of the opening sequence of the city elf origin from the game "Dragon Age: Origins". It shows three elven women walking away from the viewer, carrying flowers, towards a group of dancing and drinking elves. Overlayed over the image is the text "Alienage Soundscapes". End ID)
The Owls of Falon’Din
Pairing: Solas x Lavellan, OC & OC Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: G Chapters: 5 Status: Complete
Read on AO3
If the Friend of the Dead lies imprisoned, who then will lead us to our slumber?
Keep reading
Alienage Lullaby
Part of the Alienage Soundscapes series created for @cityelfweek
“They changed that old nursery rhyme ma used to sing! Heard it yesterday. Why'd they add stars and wolves?” “Are you daft? Do you know nothing of what that nursery rhyme actually is?” “Well… no. Was it supposed to be anything else?” “Not here. Wait until we get home and I'll tell you.”
—Conversation between two elves in the fish market of Denerim (This song could not have been created without @bumblewarden , whose warden Novhen Tabris is a joy and an inspiration and the best Dark Wolf the Denerim Alienage could ever ask for)
(Lyrics and song without sound effects under the cut)
My darling, my darling, come lie down to sleep. You see through the window the darkness in creep. In here it is dry and in here it is warm. No darkness can touch you, no fire, no storm.
If dogs come, my darling, go run and go hide. Come to me, run past them, strike a path well wide. I will keep you safe and I will keep you warm. The dogs will not touch you, will not bring you harm.
My darling, should you find yourself lost in night, Don't cry and look up at the stars shining bright: The stars, they will lead you back home here to me The stars, they will guide you once you can run free.
If you find yourself beneath trees deep at night Go run on, my darling, to fireshine bright. Round fire there's music, and dancing, and song. Go run there, my child, that you may sing along.
If you find yourself amid ashes and scars My darling, don't fear, take the brightest of stars. The star in the gold field of daylight's bright dawn, That star is the place where free people belong.
If you find yourself in a darkness and fear, Then listen in case there's a wolf you might hear. The grey wolf is stronger, the dogs are his prey. And if you then call him, he might come your way.
City Elf Appreciation Week- Day 5 - Alienage
Day 5 - Alienage for @cityelfweek
- The only home many city elves ever know.
>Post Tabris origin scene<
The dawn had barely made a break of the horizon when the alienage began to wake. The lazy watch stumbled through their version of a patrol, the nightly curfew at an end. (Not that it stopped whom the lord wanted, just the innocent scared of what the humans might do to them and theirs.)
The first to stir were the hawkers, workers gathered, booths propped up, baskets and crates of goods set out. Next came the errand kids, their mothers at home stoking the hearths. Coin and trades swapped hands, bread and eggs for a coin, apples for a “found” silver knife.
Chatter begins. News from the night prior making its way through the people. Ears prick up, eyes cast wary glances.
‘Trouble up at the Keep’
‘Someone did what? Couldn’t have been an elf.’
“This better not bring those guards back here. Stirring up trouble.’
‘Mamae, I want a honey roll!’
'Hush child!’
The sun continues to rise, more people come out, news continues to spread. Cicadas scream as the heat swells and the din of the market picks up to a fever pitch. Guards patrol, no more than usual, yet. The elves of the alienage are apprehensive, waiting for the angry shouts, the unjust punishments to be doled out. Even the cut purses seem leery. But it is yet to come, almost normal.
If the patrols notice the ‘knife-ears’ acting especially cautious, they turn a blind eye. There’s ale and cards to get back too.
Whispers of a Grey Warden add further fuel to the gossip as the sun begins to set. The wariness of the day sends the shops into early closure, more goods then coins in their coffers. The errand child called home before the lamps were even lit.
A crier shuffles hastily to the announcement board, stained parchment and hammer under arm. The lamp lighters spare him a curious glance, then continue with their nightly work.
Hammer falls against creaking boards disturb the dusk, shutters cracking open to watch, wait. He stops, nodding at the notice posted, then shuffles back out. The alienage gate slamming shut, loud as a thunder clamp.
[ NOTICE: DENERIM ALIENAGE TO BE KEPT BARRED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!]
Andraste and Shartan
Part of the Alienage Soundscape series created for @cityelfweek
“Hahren, Take better care to instruct the Alienage's children to avoid blasphemy and gross irreverence. Shartan is not a canonical figure of the Chant, and he certainly was not our Prophet's Lover. I will let the matter rest for now, but I will not be able to ignore future occurrences. That such an insinuation was made at all in the birthplace of Andraste would be enough cause for a public outrage.”
—A letter from Mother Boann of Denerim to hahren Valendrian of the Denerim Alienage
WARNING! The following song is explicit and irreverent.
(Lyrics and song without sound effects under the cut)
The Maker loves Andraste, does Andraste love him back? And Maferath is fine I guess, except that he does lack A certain girth and attitude, so when she got to pick, Andraste chose the elvhen man with long and lovely… ears!
We all know that Andraste loved Shartan! We all know that they made love in her tent! We all know that Andraste loved Shartan! We all know that Andraste fucked an elf!
And when Andraste went to sleep into her tent at night, A shadow would approach the flap and enter it and hide. And when the ‘ooh's and ‘aah's began, Andraste's hound heard some. He rolled his eyes, he heaved a sigh and left them to their come.
We all know that Andraste loved Shartan! We all know that they made love in her tent! We all know that Andraste loved Shartan! We all know that Andraste fucked an elf!
When our Lady was in chains and dragged upon her pyre, When Maferath had sealed his fate and stoked the Maker's ire, Shartan and hundred elves ran fast to save our Lady bright, And when they died Andraste cried: “I knew it, I chose right!”
We all know that Andraste loved Shartan! We all know that they made love in her tent! We all know that Andraste loved Shartan! We all know that Andraste fucked an elf!
CONFESSION:
I know it's insignificant and unlikely, but I've been wanting to go to Tevinter since my family was sold into slavery in DAO and, like.... I just want to know if Valora is okay? If Bioware could put her name above an NPC's head or something, I'd be happy. My poor Tabris never got to rescue her, and I need closure.
Marital Duo: A Performance
Part of the Alienage Soundscapes series for @cityelfweek
"TONIGHT, at th VHENADAHL: "Love, let me in" performed. BRING FRIENDS & DRINKS!"
—One of many haphazard posters distributed around the Denerim Alienage. The paper is thin, the ink cheap, and the words have been chosen with care to reduce the amount of text and thus the cost of printing the posters
WARNING! The following song talks about alcohol abuse.
(Lyrics and song without sound effects under the cut)
Love, let me in! Love, let me in! Love, it's dark and cold outside. Love, it's dark, and deep at night! Love, please let me in.
Let you in? Let you in? Won't your friends then take you in? Is the light out at the inn? Let you in? Let you in? Sleep outside, you bloody din!
Love, please don't shout. Love, please don't shout. The neighbors will wake and hear us be loud. The neighbors will ask why I am still out Love, oh please, don't shout.
Please don't shout? Please don't shout? I don't care if they see you out! Be proud that once you made me loud! Please don't shout? Please don't shout? Well, don't anger me, you lout!
Love, you’re mad? Love are you mad? Love, just hearing that makes me sad. I don't want to make you feel bad. Love, please don't be mad.
Don't be mad? Don't be mad? You drank away what coin we had! My patience has worn out, my lad! Don't be mad? Don't be mad? Leave me alone, you fucking scad!
Forgive me! Forgive me! My guilt is as deep as the sea, We can make up, love, can't we? Love, please, I'm sorry.
I will not forgive you yet. First, you will pay off your debt. Go and wake your brother up, Sleep in his house, sober up. I don't want you back again Til you got coin to sustain Us. Now go! I need to sleep! At least I got a job to keep. Think about what you've done!
This was nearly done so I gave it some shading to finally get it out of my WIPs. A redraw of sorts for this old Teia I drew four years ago!
The Rose on My Cheek
Part of the Alienage Soundscapes series created for @cityelfweek
WANTED ALIVE for the murder of ser Bern and lady Emmeline Farthin of Edgehall: the elf Falma of Edgehall, scullery maid at lady Emmeline's estate. 5’3”, brown hair and eyes, brown skin, about 20 years of age. Reward: 100 sovereigns.
— Wanted poster in the market square of Edgehall
(Lyrics and song without sound effects under the cut)
A rose on my cheek sits since yesterday morn. A wardog has placed it, the rose had a thorn. The rose has a red crown and a red dress torn, the thorn a cruel gauntlet with gold rings adorned.
There’s violets singing all over my chest. A lapdog has placed them where it thought was best. From green spring the violets, from pink and from blue, and yellow among them, and bold purple too.
A foxglove has just found its way to my hands. It came from the gardens that grow on my lands. It’s meant for the lapdog and the dog of war, it will find them soon when I’m under the floor.
The floor it is sprouting all flowers, like spring. The flowers, they make such a colourful ring. They care not for war dogs or lapdogs no more, they need not to watch them or keep any score.
Who Will Your Lover Be?
Part of the Alienage Soundscapes series, created for @cityelfweek
“If I was strong, I would just hit them back!” “That's the point of this song, dummy. You can hit them back as much as you like, they'll always hit back harder, until you're dead.” “Oh… What's it the one who gets away does?” “Fly? I don't know. It's just an old song.”
—Conversation of three elven children playing, overheard by hahren Sarethia of the Highever alienage
(Lyrics and song without sound effects under the cut)
Who will your lover be? Marry me! Marry me! With whom will you bind the knot underneath the tree?
I am strong and not afraid! I am fast and slight! I am smart and know my trade! I am beautiful and great! I will teach you flight!
Who will your lover be? Marry me! Marry me! With whom will you bind the knot underneath the tree?
Strong gets cracked over the head, Strong is strong but strong is dead. Fast is caught and cannot bite, Fast is fast but cannot fight. Smart does not last very long, Smart is smart but smart is wrong. Beautiful will draw a look, they won’t let them off their hook. Only Flight can get away, get away but cannot stay.
Who will your lover be? Marry me! Marry me! With whom will you bind the knot underneath the tree?
Mother, Let The Kids Go Home
Part of the Alienage Soundscapes series created for @cityelfweek
“I do not know why bann Wulff insisted on venturing down to the docks. I shall never get the smell of fish out of my hair! And before you start on about the need to understand the family business, there was absolutely no business conducted down there. The only thing of interest I saw was an elven dockhand tying down ropes and singing a song. The song was nonsense, of course—but sometimes, I cannot help but wonder if all of these words do not make a sense to them that we know nothing about. Sometimes, it almost feels like they are speaking in a foreign language, but using common words.”
— A letter from Alinor Hester, daughter of a wealthy Denerimian merchant, to her older brother
(Lyrics and song without sound effects under the cut)
Mother, let the kids go home, work is almost over. Give them spice and give them corn, dandelions and clover. Tell them: “Light the fire, love, put water on to boil. Father’s brought a mourning dove, we will eat it with some oil.”
Mother let the kids go home, sun has gone and disappeared. Run before the moons come up, and before the streets are cleared. When the streets are dark and damp, bar the door and windows tight. For the Nightwolf walks around, swallows people out at night.
Mother, let the kids go home, to their bed and blanket warm. Tuck them in and hold them tight, until sunlight brings the morn. Count their heads and kiss their eyes, take them out and let them roam through the streets until it’s dark, and then let your kids go home.
Architecture of Kirkwall : Alienage
[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]
Keep reading
merrill dragon age really reverse engineered an eluvian from first principles in a cave with a box of scraps and one single blighted shard. and STILL she gets no respect for it from anyone but potentially hawke, at least in a confused yet well-meaning 'are ya winning son' sort of way on the friendship path. dark days for women in STEM
(really though it seems the equivalent of a person in the middle ages putting together a nokia phone from rocks and sticks (and one coaching session from a spirit, fair enough) and then just not being able to figure out how to turn it on even though it is fully functioning. magically at least merrill is inarguably a genius. the tony stark of kirkwall. well not really that comparison falls apart pretty quickly but you see what I'm saying here lmao)
City Elf Appreciation Week- Day 4- Customs and Traditions
Day 4 - Customs and Tradition for @cityelfweek
- Andrastian? Dalish? Somewhere in between, or something all new?
I... had a silly idea for a codex for Fenris for this one......
Record what I say. There are no gods. Forgotten, elder, elvhen, andrastian. Spirits, demons, wraiths, yes. But gods, never. Gods are capricious. Too mortal. Too willfully selfish and evil to be anything other than the creation of those hungry from power, or those suffering from their hunger. Men make gods. I rip their hearts out. Steal the life out of them that was stolen from others. I believe in my own abilities. My own will. Stop laughing, Hawke. It is not funny. Don’t you dare show that to Varric. *Then end has a hastily drawn figure holding a stylized heart and a grumpy face* Crumpled note found on a Venatori spy, interrogated by the Inquisition.
dragon age origins first playthru giving me brainrot <3 ft my bb warden, miss buckethead, Milana Tabris
(hello zevran romancers, i bring a gift of the best mans 🤲)
"I am many things: a murderer, a thief, a lover. But I am no cheat." - Zevran Arainai, DA:O
HI WREN HAPPY FRIDAY! I see you would like Sera fluff! Maybe a little hurt/comfort to start it off, for Sera/Tali - "They shouldn't treat you like that." from the vague angsty prompts??
Hello Niri!!! This made me think of how Tali always seems to side with Sera. LOL @dadrunkwriting wc: 1120
The morning comes to Taliesen by the aching rumble in her stomach. That was the only sign that slept at all the previous night, the sudden nagging pain in her stomach. She had not eaten anything since Solas left. Last night's appetite leaving with her, along with the elven healer and trusted friend. They had failed to rescue Wisdom and Solas needed time to be away and to mourn, and though she understood that and tried not to think about what she would have done if it was her own siblings…
She hoped that Solas trusts her enough to stay and confide in her. Worse that something felt final in the way he left, the way he couldn't bear to answer her when he walked. How she seemed invisible when he said his last sentence.
It's possible that yesterday might have been the last night she'll ever see Solas again, and she is not ready to sit on that. Not when she feels like her worries as Inquisitor are stacking and she's losing distance on the people she can turn to.
Still, feeling down and worried about everything collapsing isn't helping her fill an empty stomach. The Dalish camp is close enough for a cozy home style meal.
Taliesen takes a quick sniff of her leather trousers, it still stinks of sweat from last night's battle. Though it isn't off-putting enough for her to not put them on along with a loose tunic and boots. She peels open the canvas covers of her tent, now seeing the sun is already a quarter away from its highest point.
Sera's already sitting by the smothered campfire, a doubtless sign that Taliesen slept for too long.
She waves. "Took you long enough. Feeling awake now, sleepyhead?"
Taliesen blinks, she can feel a smile slowly curl onto her lips. Somehow Sera's flippant forwardness is always enough to do that.
"Come on." Tali waves back, beckoning for Sera to follow her. "I need food. You can help me carry."
“Where we going?” Sera’s eyes widen, but she follows along anyway.
“The Dalish camp!” Taliesen points to the other side of the river.
“The Dalish camp?” Sera groans, crossing her arms.
“I got a sudden craving for [lo mai gai]. If they don’t have any, we can trade for aged embrium leafs and grains. We can make them ourselves.” Taliesen speaks, around feeling herself drool.
Sera grumbles, dragging her heel and slowing them both.
“What’s wrong with that?” Both elves stop, the Dalish elf of the two raises a brow.
“Some of them were giving me weird looks.” The City elf of the two replies, her foot begins tapping with irritation. “Like they got snot up their breathers. Don’t think they like me.”
Taliesen points her nose, unbearably close with her eyes in judgmental squint. “Seraaa, did you say something to them yesterday?”
“Nothin’.” Sera huffs, pushing the Inquisitor back by the shoulders to retake some space. “Why have to think that it was me who caused something?” Her voice rising.
In truth, Taliesen didn’t believe anything did happen between Sera and Hawen’s clan. Though she already sees the beads of sweat dripping off of Sera's neck, and is enjoying the sight of it.
“What if I didn’t?” She smirks, her words almost sound like purring.
“You!” Sera growls, she dashes to grab and headlock the other elf’s head.
Sera’s grip is stronger than Taliesen expected, feeling her head locked between two logs. Though not enough to stop her from laughing, she retaliates by tickling the other blond on her exposed side. She slowly manages to push Sera along towards the camp, managing to walk the straightest path she can while blinded and having her sense of direction turned sideways.
“Andaran Atish’an, my sister. It’s good to see you again.” Hawen stands in front of them.
The entangled elves realize they look dimwitted while waltzing into their camp. They swiftly straighten themselves, standing like impeccably professionals.
Taliesen clears her throat. “We would like to trade for food if your clan can spare anything.”
“We are happy to trade with you?” He nods, then turns to Sera. “But I would appreciate that your friend stays out of our camp.”
“What?” Taliesen gives back a baffled blink.
“Some of our People are perplexed by your friendship you two have, it will be better if she stayed out of the camp.”
She crosses her arms, a finger tapping her left shoulder, worrying that she might end up something regrettable. Sera is more vocal with her displeasure, grumbling at Hawen.
“She’ll be beside me.” Taliesen reassures. “We’re not here to cause anyone trouble.”
“That might be the case.” Hawen nods. He sighs, clearly reluctant to request this of her. “But we need to keep the peace between our people, the Dales have not been hospital as of late.”
“What does my friend have to do with any of that?”
“It’s a precaution. I want trouble on neither of our sides.”
Taliesen shakes her head. “We aren’t here to cause any trouble…”
“Inky, it’s fine.” Sera interrupts Taliesen, tugging her back by the shoulders. “Just get the stuff, I’ve got no problems waiting.”
“I’m not letting them treat you like that.” She says, her eyes narrowing.
“Got it!” Sera throws up her hands, back away from the camp. “You don’t need to. I’m not going to be around whoevers.”
“Sorry it has to be this way.” Taliesen sighs.
She chooses to follow along with her friend, rather than allow the clan to have their prejudices.
The elves tread back the path they walked, though now Sera feels her stomach growling unlike earlier. The walk feels twice as long back, and worse knowing that no treat is waiting for them when they return.
“Not a big loss. I’m sure the soldiers will have a meal ready.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” Sera snaps.
“You think you’re the only city elf, who’s been turned away by them?” Taliesen raises a brow. “Dalish clans have been like that for as long as I’ve known them.”
“What’s it? My ears, too droopy for them?” Sera rolls her eyes. She feels herself gagging. “Not my first time hearing that either. Stuffin’ our mouths would have made everything better.”
“And you’ll be fine with that?”
“Doesn’t matter! We could have gotten a good meal.”
“You didn’t deserve to be treated like a roughneck, just for not being one of them.” Taliesen shakes her head, seeming surprisingly stern. “I’m not letting that happen.”
“Doesn’t need to be your choice.” Sera whispers, her cheeks feeling a bit flushed.
Though she doesn’t want to admit it with words, she’s grateful that Taliesen sided with her over the Dalish clan.
