Post by Llau on Nov 23, 2016 13:56:15 GMT -6
(So, puked up this story out of nowhere. I'll probably continue it...probably not, but hey, it's there for me to work on whenever possible. Also because Dragon Age. Also, do note, that in this fan fic, I have my Inquisitor with Scout Lace Harding...though, in my game, I have him with Josephine because well, one couldn't have their Inquisitor exactly romance Harding.)
“Inquisitor!” A male voice was overheard, but he ignored the one calling out to him as he continued to head toward the direction of the scar in the sky, where the breach once was before he closed it during his fight against Corypheus.
This time, a female voice called out to him, “Inquisitor Trevelyan!” Hearing her voice forced him to abruptly stop moving. The voice...it was familiar to him as well as the other. They were much friendlier than the one currently in his head. It wasn't a demon, nor a spirit, but belonging to a living being. They were well-known to him, and both belonged to very good friends. He winced a little as he continued forward, but stopped; chest heaving up and down as he breathed quickly. He was out of breath, heart-pounding, and covered in sweat. It was due to him running on foot, but he equally felt sick. He glanced over his shoulder, and caught a glimpse of Scout Harding and Dorian not far behind him.
They were still here with him? Still following him?
Good.
There was a pinch of hope left in him. He stared at them with red-rimmed eyes, and an agonizing look of despair and desperation. It was nice to see Harding again...they really need to stop seeing each other during bad situations like this. He managed a small, but very brief warm smile at the thought of the dwarf.
“Lace...” The Rogue murmured her first name, but it was barely above a whisper.
“Help me...” He forced out in a whimper, hoping it was loud enough for them to hear him. Shit, he felt vulnerable, like some child right then and there. He needed them. He needed their help; particularly from the Mage. Badly.
“No...don't stop for them...don't turn around for them...we are so close...” A much darker, malevolent voice spoke to him now. “We are so close...we must reopen the breach. You...must open it – for us.” Though, when the demon spoke, it was using his voice, but it was exactly his voice somehow; it was corrupted, cracked, broken...almost inhuman.
Trevelyan cringed, and then cried out in pain as he grasped his head between his hands, clutching tightly at his hair. He took a few steps forward before he dropped to his knees when he cried out again – this time, sounding as if he was in sheer agony. He was subconsciously fighting for control...for freedom against the invaders within him – fighting for his own soul and life. But not just here, out in the world of the living...not really. The Mark, or the Anchor, allowed him to pass safely through the Fade physically, but as Solas said to him before, it allowed him to be in the fade when he dreamed as well, even though he wasn't a Mage. He wondered if the Anchor made him vulnerable to demonic possession, like Mages are, for a while now. He really didn't want to find out the hard way, but he wasn't surprised that he was in trouble again.
He was always in trouble it seems.
He just hoped his friends could help him before or if he became a powerful Abomination, and before this powerful demon from the Fade made him reopen the Breach, and make him undo everything he did to stop it in the first place. His resistance amused it. It laughed at his defiance, and laughed at him fighting, and then laughed at his agony it was causing him.
“You still resist...you'll continue to suffer...but you'll give in to us eventually,” The demon spoke to him directly from the Fade. “You'll eventually grow tired of fighting. Your volition to fight will collapse and crumble like a weak building made out of brittle wood and stone. You'll give in to us soon, Michelangelo Trevelyan...Lord...Inquisitor...just like your brother...just like your family...”
(Continue...?)
Dragon Age: Darkness Incarnate
(Taking place several months after the events of Inquisition) Inquisitor Michelangelo Trevelyan receives a letter from his oldest brother, Elias Trevelyan, congratulating him on his victory against Corypheus, as well as wishing to speak to him in Denerim. Surprised, since he barely ever speaks to his family anymore, even before the Breach, and equally wary of his oldest sibling's intentions, Michelangelo leaves Skyhold to meet with him alone – a request by his brother and a request the Inquisitor later regrets doing. Thankfully, he was never truly alone on his way to Denerim, when he is ambushed along the way. Was it all a setup, or was it only a coincidence? He was certainly feeling some sort of darkness in the air again, and it is something that specifically wants him and his Anchor.
.::Prologue::.
“Inquisitor!” A male voice was overheard, but he ignored the one calling out to him as he continued to head toward the direction of the scar in the sky, where the breach once was before he closed it during his fight against Corypheus.
This time, a female voice called out to him, “Inquisitor Trevelyan!” Hearing her voice forced him to abruptly stop moving. The voice...it was familiar to him as well as the other. They were much friendlier than the one currently in his head. It wasn't a demon, nor a spirit, but belonging to a living being. They were well-known to him, and both belonged to very good friends. He winced a little as he continued forward, but stopped; chest heaving up and down as he breathed quickly. He was out of breath, heart-pounding, and covered in sweat. It was due to him running on foot, but he equally felt sick. He glanced over his shoulder, and caught a glimpse of Scout Harding and Dorian not far behind him.
They were still here with him? Still following him?
Good.
There was a pinch of hope left in him. He stared at them with red-rimmed eyes, and an agonizing look of despair and desperation. It was nice to see Harding again...they really need to stop seeing each other during bad situations like this. He managed a small, but very brief warm smile at the thought of the dwarf.
“Lace...” The Rogue murmured her first name, but it was barely above a whisper.
“Help me...” He forced out in a whimper, hoping it was loud enough for them to hear him. Shit, he felt vulnerable, like some child right then and there. He needed them. He needed their help; particularly from the Mage. Badly.
“No...don't stop for them...don't turn around for them...we are so close...” A much darker, malevolent voice spoke to him now. “We are so close...we must reopen the breach. You...must open it – for us.” Though, when the demon spoke, it was using his voice, but it was exactly his voice somehow; it was corrupted, cracked, broken...almost inhuman.
Trevelyan cringed, and then cried out in pain as he grasped his head between his hands, clutching tightly at his hair. He took a few steps forward before he dropped to his knees when he cried out again – this time, sounding as if he was in sheer agony. He was subconsciously fighting for control...for freedom against the invaders within him – fighting for his own soul and life. But not just here, out in the world of the living...not really. The Mark, or the Anchor, allowed him to pass safely through the Fade physically, but as Solas said to him before, it allowed him to be in the fade when he dreamed as well, even though he wasn't a Mage. He wondered if the Anchor made him vulnerable to demonic possession, like Mages are, for a while now. He really didn't want to find out the hard way, but he wasn't surprised that he was in trouble again.
He was always in trouble it seems.
He just hoped his friends could help him before or if he became a powerful Abomination, and before this powerful demon from the Fade made him reopen the Breach, and make him undo everything he did to stop it in the first place. His resistance amused it. It laughed at his defiance, and laughed at him fighting, and then laughed at his agony it was causing him.
“You still resist...you'll continue to suffer...but you'll give in to us eventually,” The demon spoke to him directly from the Fade. “You'll eventually grow tired of fighting. Your volition to fight will collapse and crumble like a weak building made out of brittle wood and stone. You'll give in to us soon, Michelangelo Trevelyan...Lord...Inquisitor...just like your brother...just like your family...”
(Continue...?)
