beckaliz wrote...
0o-Constance-o0 wrote...
Anyone want to give a me a hand, I'm looking to start writing a fanfic and I'd like to post the first few paragraphs and see what you guys think :3
Absolutely! Throw it on down.
Kay :3
I wanted to write something a little different, so this is an Amell/Anders fic BUT this particular Amell was once a cousin of the Amell family in Kirkwall and was shipped to the Circle very young. It starts off with her escape with another boy called Phillip, an elf, and ends up running into Anders, who helps her ahcieve her freedom.
_
She needed to get out.
In comparison to everything, what little
she did know or have, nothing mattered as much as escaping. Olive once called
this place home, even considered it, despite all the flaws and angst, to be the
only place she could ever love. The world outside the windows was alien, and she knew nothing about the people there or the places, even her name she was sure wouldn't carry any weight; what did the name matter anyway? Would they know, could they tell who she was,
what she was, with just a glance?
But it didn’t matter, not anymore. She had
to get out of the Kirkwall Circle, regardless of what
Kirkwall was like.
The thought in and of itself was absolutely
terrifying; terrifying to think that they could know, they could find her even
after she destroyed her phylactery. She was holding the small, cold jar in her
hands, contemplating her actions, not sure if it was the right thing to do.
What
if they catch me?[/i]
[/i]
What
if I destroy this, and they find me before I am free?[/i]
[/i]
And
if I get away… can I really leave everyone behind?[/i] [/i]
Where
will I go?[/i] [/i]
What
will I do when I’m out?[/i] [/i]
… Is
this right? [/i]
[/i]
Is
this even what I want?[/i]
Phillip, an elf boy a year below her,
killed the two Templar guarding the vault holding their one last shred of
identities, and was now pacing angrily, waiting for the other two boys whom
Olive was never acquainted with to stop searching the dead men outside, and waiting
for the girl sitting by the vials of blood to stop thinking and smash the jar.
But Olive was raised to fear her captors,
even as freedom was so close she knew she would never truly be free.
“By the Dread Wolf, you silly Shemlen,”
Phillip, the short, irritable elf began by grabbing the vial out of her hands,
“we have to leave right now[/i]!”
His insult went nearly completely unnoticed
as he quickly and dramatically brought his arm down, smashing the small vial
fiercely against the floor beside her feet. What little blood was inside
splashed upwards on her face, making the blonde recoil to protect her eyes.
Her heart hit the bottom of her stomach as
she stared down at the shattered glass on the floor. Phillip set the remains of
the blood splatter on fire, took Olive roughly by the upper arm and hauled her
to her shaking feet.
“Come on[/i],”
he hissed, dragging her out past the bodies of the Templars slumped against the
vault, down a thin corridor hidden in darkness.
This
is it[/i], she thought at the time, there is no turning back.[/i]
The punishment for attempting to destroy a
phylactery was two years in solitary confinement and a monthly flogging; but
Olive wasn’t sure what the punishment was for actually
succeeding to destroy
it. She was sure it was a daily beating, and if not… Tranquility[/i]. Phillip killed the Templar guarding the vault with a
poisonous gas he spent months perfecting; they would all be branded as killers;
dangerous to society and to the well-being of the Circle; it was the perfect
excuse should the Templars want them locked away or robbed of their
personalities.
The darkness pressed in from all sides as
Olive fought to catch up with the elf, palming the walls so she could feel her
way to safety. The sound of grinding metal, and a second later she was being
roughly pushed past a small, narrow grate though a wall. Her hipbone caught
painfully on the stone around the outside, and when she tried to cry out she
was hushed fiercely
Her hands, knees and feet landed right into
whatever messiness the tunnel was used for; the smell was revolting and she
took a moment to gag before being pushed further into the tunnel to make room
for the other three. There was no time to bond, to ask for names and put them
to faces, there was only the acrid stench of years old sewage and slime and the
fading light as she crawled further.
Slime coated the tunnel from all angles;
Olive could feel her stomach churning the deeper and deeper she crawled, the
elf and two mages behind her, whispering for her to keep moving and not to look
back. Her heart was lodged in the back of her neck; she couldn’t see what was in
front of her and the incline of the tunnel travelling upwards was wearing down
on what little stamina she had left.
But as disgusting as her situation was and
as horrible and alien[/i] as it felt to
her, she knew that staying would be worse. As bad as it could work out to be,
nothing would ever compare to the Kirkwall Circle.
“They don’t have out phylacteries anymore,”
Phillip said in a hushed tone behind her, “so when we get out, if we’re caught,
we can still use our magic!”
“Do you think they will be waiting for us?”
Olive asked reproachfully.
“I got someone on the outside to bring
help, so hopefully, no.”
It wasn’t much of a reassurance, but it was
something, and that something kept the blonde mage going until she could go no
further, her head banging painfully off the manhole cover above. She looked
up to see the light poking through three ventilation holes exposing the
outside. With a strength she didn’t even know she possessed, and the need to
break free driving her, she pressed her palms flat against the sweaty, slimy
metal and pushed with all her weight, shakily shoving the disk to one side and feeling
the fresh air whoosh into their confined space, kissing the sweat on her brow
for a brief moment of triumph.
And it was short lived.
Luck, and she supposed; the Maker[/i], somehow prevented the arrow from piercing through her face
to embed itself in the lip of the manhole but millimeters from her head. The
shock stole the breath from her lungs in a sharp gasp, she could hear the
sounds of a battle raging on the surface, the noise of energy being sucked from
the Fade into a Creation spell, there was a Paralysis hex some feet away from
her and the earsplitting bang of metal meeting metal prevailed over the nervous
beating of her heart.
_
Blah blah blah haven't gotten so far yet but any good?
Retour en haut
If you gained Anders's friendship in DA:A and then Hawke kills him later, the Warden should be able to beotch at him/her.]
