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Sunday, 15 November 2015 06:07 pm
sarasa_cat: (DA Dog)
So many interesting things to respond to over here... except I am trying to prep for the coming week.  :|

Brief query regarding my monstrous towering pile of fic that I'm sorting through and attempting to organize:  

Is anyone interested in slow-motion thinking/headcanoning about a Circle Bethany who is somewhat pro-Circle (moderate on the whole mage issue) based on canonical lines where Bethany appears circle-curious, etc., and the comments from Bethany, Leandra, and Ella in game about the circle (both before and after Bethany goes in) are taken at face value rather than fanon-reinterpreted as being falsified because of templar surveillance pressures?  

The story in question is Precious Things, which is thematically interesting to me for Reasons(tm).
sarasa_cat: (Default)

Precious Things - Chapter 1:  Forest Edge Manor, Lothering

Characters:  Bethany Hawke, VL’s Emile Hawke, DA2 cast with emphasis on minor characters, plus characters from DA:O and Asunder.

Summary: History remembers Enchanter Bethany Hawke as a defender of mage rights during the events leading up to the Mage-Templar war. Recently, her memoir was uncovered, describing the decade she spent in Kirkwall and how she rose out from her older brother's shadow.

(Pairings: eventual Bethany/Keran; this world includes M!Hawke/Anders and an ambiguous Cullen/Surana plus other canon pairs as needed.)


Normally I don’t see much point in telling my life’s story. People have already decided who I am no matter what I say. Of course, it’s not as if they have walked beside me during my dreams, and their nightmares are theirs, not mine, but none of this stops others from thinking how they know what is best for me.

I sometimes wonder why certain people commit themselves to misunderstanding me. Sure, my choices have been governed far more by convention than by idealism. At least, until now.

[Read on AO3]

sarasa_cat: (Default)
Peaches and Gin
Dragon Age 2
Mari Hawke, Malcolm, Leandra, Carver, Bethany
2100 words (rated R for some obscene language)

Written in response to pixelnyx’s question about “Mari’s relationship with Malcolm and Leandra. And because I imagine this might make a difference, how Mari might moderate her behaviour when it’s Leandra and Malcolm in the same room vs what Mari might say to them one on one.”


Family matters flowed easily when father was alive. My youth was full of joy. Me laughing until my sides ached, bare feet kicking in the air as I rolled backward on the floor, hands clasped as my elbows locked, index fingers pushed together and pointing up as I shot sprays of frost into the roof beams.Father threw peach pits into the air for me to shoot. Whenever I hit one, it would plummet to the floor, falling as an icy hailstone. PLONK! I would roll fast and dodge out of the way under the table. Another peach pit would loft into the rafters and, just as fast, I would slide on my side, fingers taking aim. KE-PLONK! CRASH! A peach pit hailstone knocked a cooking pot from a shelf and our old mabari jumped to his feet, barking at the sudden clatter. Carver yelled at me and Father to ‘knock it off, would you?’ He was trying to read. Bethany rolled her eyes and smirked behind her needlework. All the while, Father and I howled just as loud as our barking dog. Side-splitting laughter forced me to clutch my side but Father tossed another pit into the air. The pit careened straight toward the little glass window on our front door, leaving me no time to take a breath as I took aim. I forced out a bolt of ice that knocked the pit from its trajectory. The ice-bound pit crashed into the door-jamb just as Mother walked in.

“Oh, Maker!” Bethany shouted. Eyes wide, she clasped her hands to her mouth.

[Read on AO3]


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