Update: No longer accepting random starters. Please inbox me to plot!
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!
№1 I have the right to refuse to roleplay. I don’t need a reason. I don’t need to offer a reason. Usually, it’s because I’m bogged down with threads, or I want to focus on the ones I have. Please understand and be respectful, and I will be respectful in return.
№2 Similarly, I reserve the right to unfollow at any time. Same rules apply — I don’t need to have or give a reason. Typically, this will occur when we haven’t interacted ever or in a long time, and/or there are too many ooc posts on my dash and I want to keep things clean. It’s truly nothing personal against you.
№3 I sometimes do drop threads. I drop more often that I like. So of course, you can, too. Sometimes roleplays or character interaction moves beyond that particular thread. Sometimes inspiration just doesn’t come to me. 95% of the time, however, I’ve just saved it to drafts or I happened to miss it. You can always step forward to communicate with me. If it’s been a few weeks and I haven’t replied, it’s perfectly fine to casually let me know.
№4 On that note — communicate! I LOVE to talk ooc. It’s fun to get to know my partner and I think the roleplays turn out better when we discuss things outside of the thread. Is it getting stale? Do you have a new idea? Do you want to drop it? Are you uncomfortable with something I wrote? Please let me know. Feel free to add me on skype -- sunshinehalla. Please keep in mind that I have 180+ contacts on there and I tend to very quickly get overwhelmed. Furthermore, I am often not logged in to that skype, so do not take it to heart if you send me a message and I do not respond, even if you see me active on tumblr.
№5 I will not roleplay with personals, and generally prefer that all roleplay blogs have a rules page in addition to a codex or an "about" equivalent.
law
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.
vita
Hello! You can call me Sam! 22. She/Her. From California but living in New England for college (studying osteology and archaeology). I’m honestly really quite friendly and a dork and I’d love you forever if you snuck into my inbox to chat, even if it’s just to say hi.
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.
In the Shadow of Tarasyl'an Te'las
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.
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 free.
there is this wonderful little ray of sunshine known as path-of-sorrows who i absolutely adore! seriously their writing is amazing and the love and care they spill into abelly is nothing short of brilliant. also they are a wonderful friend to have. one that never fails to bring a smile to my face whenever we get to chatting ( or screaming feels back and forth lbr ) but yes all my love and adoration goes to my lil sunshine halla! to you sam! ^u^
She mused with a faint hum, a slight lean of her head
held an understanding quality. Amari was ever curious
and to have this vast collection of ‘knowledge’ was at
times near overwhelming for her. Yet like many things,
unless encountered with her own eyes and mind, it
would all be taken with a grain of salt.
“Besides, no one truly
knows themselves… at least not as much as they’d like to believe.”
People tend to change much like nature; the Herald
has noticed such things even before she was given
such titles. It could take something small like a grain
of sand to a monstrous boulder. And Amariel has bared
witness to both enough to grasp the notion. But she
would not dwell upon it, not now. Instead she merely
took note Abelas’ words, eyes following to the illustrated
script.
Unfortunately Amari could only make out fragments,
not nearly enough to formulate a meaning, much to her
personal vexation. A sigh falls from her lips almost heavy
enough to echo through the vast room.
“I must admit …
some of the text fails me —— what does it say?”
“You are right, in this . The danger lies in not knowing. In being unable to recognize, within themselves, what others might see as through a clear pool of water. Touch the surface, and watch the ripples as they come.”
The stillness of this old library reminds him of the temple. The age. The smell of dust and binding glue for cracked leather. Parchments here are jaundiced by the years – no magic protected the purpling ink of their pages, as the elvhen might have. So much has been forever lost to time.
He circles around at her prompting, eyes flickering across the old words. He does not, for once, chastise her for her Dalish ignorance. This is not the place. This is not the time. He is reverential as his lips sound out the words.
“There is little left. It is the writings of an elf who bore witness to the greatest tragedy of our age. They saw the place where the sky was held back.”
how do i love thee? let me count the ways. you my dear, you're just so lovey to talk to and an inspiration on my dash. i consider myself lucky to write with you, to chat with you, and to call you my friend. sam you're just awesome ok! -smooches halls bae- I LOVE U
ahhhhhh oh my god dani pls hasfkdlhlkhk. i’m so, so grateful for the warm welcome that you gave me. i just so sincerely value and enjoy your presence, but ooc and ic. amari is a darling cinnamon roll and i’m never going to forget flower crowns, honestly. and one of these days i’m going to need to sit you down and yell about star wars together.
It is a gradual occurrence, the way she removed Abelas' hood to gently place a crown of gladiolus, ivy, heather and aspen upon his head. There laid a wonder if he would simply disregard the gesture, and yet the act is done regardless. So with nary a word, Amari takes her leave in a nod and a faint smile. ( you shouldn't encourage me so.... THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CRACK AT FIRST )
He is wordless. He protests not.
Even when his cowl is drawn back, revealing the tips of ears - no more nor less elven, elvhen — than her own, Abelas says nothing. There are few he would allow — few whom he trusted so, and fewer still to whom he would not bark a word of censure. And yet he says nothing, and waits patiently, granting the young Inquisitor her ministrations. It is only when she recedes, eyes dancing with light, that he dares snake curious fingers to the crown of his head, threaded silver hair so rarely uncovered to the world. It is a small, silly, thing, but he feels naked for it. He feels exposed. And yet, for her, he endured it. He probes, gently, the burgeoning crown she set upon his brow. He feels, more than sees, the verdant bouquet she lay there. He understands its meaning implicitly, and Abelas smiles.
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.
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 
