oh, morrigan
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just a quick sketch after watching the trailer (: might touch it up a bit later. probably not though.
also, i’m back! i finished my final a week ago and will get my results this thursday :D
Fic: Morrigan / Leliana - shelter from a storm
Odd days are mine in “minorearth & cherith’s big fic adventure”. Remember to track #m&c’s big fic adventure if you want to keep up. Either on minorearth’s tumblr or mine.
May 3rd - Morrigan / Leliana - shelter from a storm (867 words)
good girl morrigan, a proud member of the circle of magi
Morrigan
I had a sudden gush of Morrigan feels while I was sketching this.
why have i waited all my life to draw her, i wonder<3
There were some characters Varric only wished he had the chance to write first—although he wasn’t so sure about Morrigan in the tales he heard, if even his unflagging good nature would be enough to gain her friendship.
Or whatever dark, rusty treasure she called friendship, anyway—tucked into the sharp line of her jaw and the twist of her mouth, an ancient joke burning like gold and dragon-fire in her eyes.
It was a look. It was definitely iconic. ‘You know,’ he’d even told Hawke once, ‘I think the two of you would’ve gotten along just fine. She had the one-arm pauldron thing going for her, the gold eyes, everything.’
‘Do you think she would’ve taught me to be a dragon?’ Hawke asked.
‘Maybe,’ Varric replied. ‘If you played your cards right.’
Hawke never did.
Some weren’t meant to; others weren’t meant to meet. So Varric had to settle for the truths his imagination could provide, instead of living the lie. The arch of her brow was a spell all its own. She was a spider in wait, a witch in the wilds, a poison that didn’t bother pretending to be sweet. She was the real story, which meant she was mist and a mystery, and like all legends, she knew when to disappear before she faded away.
If Varric ever did write about her, he’d know exactly what to say.
To the Hero of Ferelden, he’d begun a hundred times before, then scrapped the idea entirely, she was always the woman.
(Source: lemmyleyra)
And done!
Woohoo! Not gonna lie, I think I had the most fun with designing her outfit. I imagined that she’d be more covered up than she is in game, but to this degree, I was surprised.
OMG GUYS IT’S ISABELA WEEK
I do not know what I have done to deserve such wonderful gifts: Carver Week and then Isabela Week. I’m just going to bask in it.
The first of
manydrabbles for my favorite Rivaini pirate, inspired by the prompt generator’s Isabela/Morrigan - long walks, late at night.———-
When the breeze was off the ocean at night, Isabela liked to take long walks. She would leave Kirkwall and circle around the cliffs, admiring the reflection of the stars in the waves, and knifing any bandits silly enough to jump her. Sometimes she looked in caves for treasure.
She found a lot of weird things in caves at night, but this one topped it all.
A shivering, wet, black-haired woman with a mage‘s staff next to her, looking a lot like a cat that had been dropped overboard and was spitting mad.
“Hello, sweet thing,” Isabela said curiously, stepping closer. “What are you doing here?”
The mage shook her wet hair back, glowering at the pirate fearlessly. “Oh, ’tis your cave? I am so sorry I intruded.” The heavily layered sarcasm in her voice made it quite clear that she was anything but.
Isabela cocked an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be my first pick for shelter. You’re welcome to it.”
“How generous.” The mage shifted and her cloak fell away, revealing a heavy belly.
“Eight months?” Isabela had some experience in judging, from her mother’s trade as a Rivaini wise woman. Not that she would thank the old witch for anything, but sometimes it came in handy.
The mage glared at Isabela, but then her anger fell away, and Isabela realized how young she looked. “I think so,” she admitted. “It has been a strange pregnancy.”
The pirate flipped her daggers back into their sheathes and settled back against the cave wall. “I got time,” she said.
“I do not think I offered to tell the tale,” the mage snapped, retreating inside her cold shell, which didn’t bother Isabela in the slightest.
“Suit yourself,” she shrugged. “You just looked like shit. You’re a drowned rat and you don’t know when you got knocked up.”
“I know when I conceived,” the mage said irritably. “I will simply say that it has been a strange pregnancy, and I shall be glad once it’s done.”
“Still have to raise it,” Isabela said breezily, getting up. “Well, if you’re so set on sitting alone and sorry for yourself, I’ll bid you good night.”
The mage huddled into her cloak. “I know I shall have to raise it,” she said, her voice oddly quiet. Isabela looked at her. Her eyes were glassy. She raised an eyebrow, but no further information was forthcoming. When she was at the mouth of the cave, the woman spoke again.
“I…I would be glad if you did not speak of this.”
“Consider it a promise, love.” Isabela walked out of the cave and put the strange mage out of her mind.
It was months later when Isabela read a poster put up by a Fereldan, offering a reward for information on the whereabouts of a mage named Morrigan who was either pregnant or traveling with a baby.
She sent them to Rivaini and collected the gold.
