“Hey, don’t worry about the statue’s inaccuracy, though. As you remember I’ve got an inaccurate statue too—probably broken by now, but I’ve got one. Now we match.”
I don’t always draw lazily done mini comics, but when I do, my brother is responsible for spawning the idea. The whole: “What if Anders eventually got a statue in his honor.” idea. :V
well of course there’s a statue of anders. of course. and of course it stands against the cold better than flesh ever did. and of course it gets his nose all wrong—although, at certain angles, maybe it doesn’t do such a terrible job of it after all.
and birds perch on his shoulders, ruffling their feathers. looking like pauldrons. making, in brief moments, the stone come alive. almost as if a tired little man is sighing, yawning, shrugging.
and strangers leave garlands, little candles burning. and they toss flowers or drop chipped, round coppers or rest a moment in the shade he casts, touching him for only a second.
then moving on.
in spring, isabela can see it from the shore, steering close enough—but not so close that the hull of a stolen ship is dashed in the shallows. she lifts her hands, not in a salute, but to wiggle her fingers. electricity tricks and april showers. lightning, now and then, just before dawn.
in summer, the stone bakes, but it doesn’t change—not too much; not like varric’s narrative, which still can’t settle on a point of view. ‘writing,’ varric sighs, shaking his head. ‘all it really is, is making a whole bunch of difficult decisions.’ he leaves blank vellum, so it’s not like he’s really gone.
in the fall, leaves scatter at anders’s feet. the garlands lose their petals. the candles burn out.
and hawke comes, always in the winter.
because there’s a hole in anders’s coat. because the sculptor got that so very right. and because being alone is always so bloody cold.
I bet this is how they lured Anders back after each of his escapes from the Tower, just an innocent box of kittens on a market somewhere and he’s done
And posting this on its own, because I happen to really like it.
And how one day he might become a patron saint of mages. The man who started the world on a radical path towards freedom. He’ll become canonized, god-like, over the years. The horrible things he did to achieve freedom minimized in light of future success’. But to the people who knew him he was the hair-brained, cat loving, grungy mage who had a heart too big for his body, who loved dangerously hard, who made horrible mistakes in the name of what he believed in. A good man who made bad choices, who used to say “And the only good one I made, was you Hawke.” (◡‿◡✿)
“And the only good one I made, was you Hawke.”
Oh God. I was already drowning in feels, but there you go posting this. Now I am overwhelmed by a wave. Excuse me while I drown some more.
God-like might be a bit too much though.
you can tell a lot about a person by who they keep romancing in a bioware game despite all attempts to romance someone else
Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.
I shall endure.
What you have created, no one can tear asunder.
—The Chant of Light: Trials 1:10
My goodness, how beautiful. I think Jen Hepler should get this as a bookmark or wall poster or something- what a lovely showcase of two of her characters from DA2!
I’m a little teapot
Short and stout
Here is my handle
Here is my spout
When I get all steamed up
I just shout
I am DEAD.
This is the cutest
I found this chibi-Anders when looking for some other stuff on my computer - and thought - just let him be here for my unknown reason.
I know, my artist skills suck, but still :D
“Damn Blondie, did a wild animal attack your back or something?”
My money’s on Isabela
asjkjfdkl oh Yami…this is so perfect!!! :3
Thank you so much, this is just about as perfect as I could ever imagine.
You are the best as always <3
The brother, the lover & the best friend
awh, I miss you bb - I should do another playthrough…
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