To be quite honest, I think of myself as rather approachable and lenient regarding roleplays. Here are some guidelines, which can and will be updated as I see fit. Additionally, I would recommend that you read this for a brief introduction to the writer, and this for Abelas’ verses.
Basics;; Writer 21+, not selective or private. I don't want to exclude anyone on principle, so I am free to be approached by non-mutuals. multi-ship/multi-verse. standard rules apply, including remembering to trim posts and not reblogging asks. reply to asks as a new post for the thread. skype available to all (sunshinehalla)! open to all writing styles, from one-liners to para or novella.
Abelas is aromantic & asexual. what this means is while I’m open to multiple platonic ships with the same character, he is not open to romantic or sexual shipping.
On tagging;; I have no triggers, personally, but I’ll try to be as considerate as possible. The format will be -> trigger ///<- and -> nsfw /// <- and if I miss something, please don’t be afraid to approach me politely about it.
Regarding the story;; I will automatically assume that all interactions take place at any point after the Arbor Wilds/What Pride Had Wrought questline, unless otherwise specified. Accordingly, this is not a spoiler-free blog, and end-game plot points may be mentioned. This is a good reference for Abelas’ Inquisition verse.
Regarding characters;; Abelas will automatically interact with all companions as though they had been present at the Well of Sorrows and that he left in peace — again, unless otherwise specified. Every character will be treated as unique. There are no duplicates. Therefore, if you see me interacting with a like muse, don’t feel intimidated/threatened/disappointed, etc. Every player has a different perspective and approach, and they all bring something new to the table. Besides, each exists singularly for Abelas.
I’ll love you if;; you send me a meme, you strike up a conversation, you ask questions! Abelas might be super srs disagreeable, but I promise I try to be perfectly friendly. c:
Also, please note that I tend to use endearments -- sweetie, sweetheart -- because I am trying to show my affection. If these bother you in any way, let me know and I will accommodate accordingly!
Vita: : a brief biographical sketch; Latin ⊰∬ literally, L I F E
( spoilers to follow )
Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas
What once might have been known of Abelas’ life before the fall of Arlathan has been lost to the ocean of time. Indeed, it is likely that his very name, Abelas {Sorrow}, was given to him — or that it was a title which he, himself, took up years later.
He was a servant - slave ? - and guardian of Mythal’s temple in the Arbor Wilds for thousands of years, adrift in the long slumber of uthenera when not directly required to defend it. Each time he and his brethren awoke, a little more of the world they had known was lost forever, slipped from their grasp.
Their numbers dwindling and the treasures of the Elvhen nearly gone from this world, Abelas had little to defend by the time Morrigan and the Inquisitor reached his sacred charge — the Well of Sorrows. He was willing to destroy the Well to protect the Vir’Abelasan from the corrupting taint of unworthy shemlen and ignorant blunderers seeking to wrest away his life’s purpose.
His destiny upon him now, one way or another, Abelas relinquished his ancient duty at last…or fell into shadow and memory.
Mythal sulevin
{ If Abelas is dead in your world state, feel free to plot with me or otherwise assume that he clawed his way back into consciousness, and fled the Arbor Wilds after his singular purpose for staying there had been taken away. Otherwise, assume that he is quite alive. }
For the first time in millennia, he has no duty, no reason to exist or to linger in one place. He searches for any trace of the Elvhen; he searches for purpose…and for the Inquisition that dances on the knife’s edge, and which holds the power to change the very fate of the world.
—In time, he might seek out the Inquisitor,
his curiosity and his quest for purpose
providing him with few other options.
In the Inquisition, he might find a cause,
even if he could never bring himself to
pledge his services or his spirit fully to them.
He could never replace what he had lost — but
somewhere in his wanderings, it is not so
impossible a thing for his hope in the Elvhen
to be r e i g n i t e d.
- - -
The Sentinel;;
Born during the height of Arlathan and promised to the service of Mythal as a youth, his notions of freedom and slavery have a very different meaning to him than to just about every culture extant today. Freedom was never something he sought nor desired. He respects Mythal greatly, and was proud of the purpose he had while following her dictates.
His world crumbled as Arlathan buckled beneath its own bloated power, the treachery and warring raging throughout Elvhenan. { The Dalish and their infantile need to blame it all upon the humans brings but a curled sneer to his lips— }
Even when Mythal had been struck down, he knew that she endured in some form, and so he compelled his fellows to tend to their duties still, drawing them to the place that had once been her sanctum sanctorum. Only now, her temple was still and empty, barred from within to keep out a world that had gone mad.
His years spent awake passed much the same as those deep in the slumber of uthenera — only when he returned to consciousness, his rest stirred by something troubling the Vir’Abelasan, did he see how the world had changed that much more from what he knew. The death of Elvhenan didn’t end with Arlathan, although it had been its gem. The death continues, and a little more of some fundamental part of Abelas dies with it each time he wakes.
By the time the Well of Sorrows falls to the hands of the Inquisition, what had once been a force worthy of representing the Will of Mythal was reduced to a beleaguered handful. Those few that survived Corypheus’ assault scattered to the winds, each seeking to discover or preserve one last remnant of the People. It made sense, at the time, but while Abelas regrets it now, it is far too late to call them back.
Time and tradition are the factors which molded a young elven devotee into a cynical and wearied keeper. Mythal the Protector demanded justice delivered with clear minds and open hearts, and these are precisely the qualities that Abelas has lost. It is too great a blow for him to accept, and so he continues to dig himself deeper, channeling his disgust outward, disdainful of all the races infesting Thedas and repulsed by the Dalish in particular.
But it is not that simple. He sees the Dalish as orphaned children, shambling and ignorant, but what pity he might feel is tempered by how alien they are to one another — they have so little in common that the sting of it hurts him most of all.
—And while he might disdain of them, of the
vallaslin worn without comprehension, they
are all that was left to him of his kin.
Art credit to swevenfox, qissus and artemorte.
I love video games and leatherbound novels and mint. I’m 30% enthusiasm, 60% water and 10% everything else. I’m petite sized in real life but people tend to forget that I’m short until we’re all standing up.
I love science and know a little bit about a lot of things, although sometimes I wish my knowledge base was more precisely detailed. I think that the ocean and space are basically the coolest things ever and in an alternate universe I might have become a physicist.
I have a terrible memory, so sorry in advance.
Regarding Roleplays:
My skype is available to everyone, even non-mutuals. sunshinehalla !
I personally have zero triggers but if something I write or do makes you uncomfortable, come to me privately and we can talk about how to fix it.
Frequently Asked Questions
Who can roleplay with you?- Absolutely anyone, so long as I'm somewhat familiar with the universe and the character has both about and rules pages.
Even crossovers or like characters?- Sure, although having a DA or fantasy verse increases the chance of us interacting. Still, I do have a crossover verse page here.
Can I send an ask even if we've never talked?- Absolutely. I'm very friendly (more so than Abelas). You can send any questions to me or to my muse.
But what if I'm a Personal blog?- As long as it doesn't require me to create an entire thread, I have no problems interacting with Personals. I will answer asks (even in character) but I will not roleplay with them.
Do you still take drabble requests?- I do! Keep in mind that I have the right to refuse and that I may be slow, but I will write drabbles. Don't be afraid to send me some, although please note I will not accept romantic or sexual themes with this character!
He is young, but Arlathan is already in its prime. The vallaslin are fresh upon his face, and the towers stand gold and strong. He is Vallasvhen, and his are the hands fated to inscribe the runes upon the holiest of holies.
He is given purpose, finding a place in the Inquisitor's Inner Circle. More than completing the ancient rituals, the Inquisitor saw fit to spare his life and see the Well's Legacy continued. For better or worse, he has become a member of their companions. In time, their cause might give him purpose — whether for a new principle in which to believe, or a foul heresy he cannot allow to continue.✮☆ ( Abelas as companion. )
He has forged his own purpose, for although Elvhenan is dead, the People yet remain. ( May or may not follow the 'Wanderer Without Purpose' or 'Shadow of Tarasyl'an Te'las' trees ) — He has come to terms, as best he can, with this time and its peoples. He seeks to aid what remains of the elves and their true heritage, and they see him as one of their own. He is not so angry as he once was. He is not so sorrowful. He has taken a new name, Suledin, and for the first time, he is *Places some beautiful flowers at the edge of the Vir'abelasan without disturb the water of the well.* - "For the memories of all who passed their knowledge over the water and wandering over the Veil by today." - *Abelas may remember all those faces whose knowledge in between the ripples, but today she will remember of their memories linger here through the sentinels mind end eyes.*
He watches her with cautious eyes, but lets her continue in peace.
It is a greater offering than any have given. She understands what
has been lost, and what will be so that their long duty is not in vain.
As this was requested - finding purpose after Sanaa's death (AU) ? :>
He had known this day would come.
He had not thought to face it so soon.
Abelas had been a witness to the inevitable crush of the passing of ages, time wearing away at the foundation of all he had ever known. Time had swallowed away whole worlds, erasing even what rebellions and wars could not. Time had been denied to the elves born after the sundering of Elvhenan – what had been the feature endemic to all the People had been denied in the legacy of all their children. They were mortal, now. They would die, in their turn.
So many lives, like the sparking of dying stars. Even the most ancient sun in the celestial firmament must, in its own time, fade away. He had known the skies over Mythal’dhru’an as he had known himself. Should but one star blink away from existence, its loss would have been keenly felt. The Dalish were like such stars, but they were stars with which he was unfamiliar. Some perished with great fanfare, brightening before the end, as always, claimed them. Most simply…faded away, lost within the sparkling multitude. They would be replaced, their stories forgotten. It was the way of things, now, and Abelas had lived a thousand lifetimes, unchanging even as the world beyond the Temple did nothing but change.
And so the lifelines, worn thin and ragged, eaten away by the slow rolling of years, snapped ! –He was cast adrift into the void, purposeless when it had been purpose, alone, which had kept him aloft for so long. What few of his brothers and sisters remained chose to stay by his side. Abelas never knew, but it had been for love of him, and not the faded memory of a distant goddess, that had bade them stay.
What else had been left for them, then, but to wander the earth like the shadows they had become? They were no better than the restless, homeless Dalish – distinct only in their sacred traditions and the knowledge, the memories they carried in their breasts. They might have wandered like this for a thousand years or more – or else allow themselves to be claimed by the eternal sleep of uthenera. and this time, never to wake again.
But Abelas would not lay himself down for rest, not when the shadows of the old world still clung to the curvature of space. Whispers of Elvhenan were locked in the secret places of the world. The ruins, the temples, the hidden realms which opened only for those of the People. It was not his way to abandon himself to mourning without cause. He carried sorrow with him forever – but he would not be stopped by it. Not even when he lacked a guiding principle to anchor himself through the ages.
{ And then she had given him reason to believe that purpose yet existed. }
She had called herself Sanaa, and she had given him hope by showing him how he might, himself, find it on his own. Mythal’s vallaslin had marked her as sure as the branches, green like a winter fir, reached across his own brow. For a time, they had traveled together. For a time.
There was a finality to everything is this world. There was a beginning and an end, where once there had been eternity. Once, long ago, Falon’Din might have eased the passing, guiding souls not to an end but to a journey begun anew. He, above all the Creators, had known the liminal paths and the transitory nature of all things. And then the Guide, himself, had been led astray. He was a shepherd no longer. The People struggled, living - and dying - alone.
So, too, had Sanaa been lost. Abelas knew why she had felt she must, but hers was a life departed too early from this world. He had come to love her, a pure, platonic love that bloomed with the thanks of being alive, being whole. She sought to save him – from the past and from himself, laying the foundation for the chance to make a life from the ashes of the old world.
He had known, from the moment of their meeting, that he would live only to see her die. He had not thought it was to be like this. For a time, Abelas and his sentinels grieved. They mourned her as they mourned for all their own, and swore themselves to the duty of honoring her enduring spirit.
Yet, while his grief was real, Abelas had learned. He had grown.
He held on to the memory of her in his soul, along with all of his many dead. She had been a light among the Dalish, challenging his long since held beliefs, forcing him to question all that he had not questioned. The Dalish were still not his People, and could never be again. For all that his life would extend into the ages, it was no longer his time. But he might turn aside his sorrows and look to the future of this world, guiding the Children of the Dales as he had once guided the children born into a life amongst the sentinels. Both had been born after the death throes of their empires existed only in living memory. Both lived in want for someone with the heart and knowledge of the elvhen to guide them when their Creators could not - would not.
It was for their sake, and for his own, that Abelas knew what he must do. In the wake of all his losses, he endured and would always endure. Emma him Suledin.