Fenris, Carver, “it was a secret, but that was alright”!
Fenris learned many things in the Deep Roads, about dwarves, about Wardens, but it was Carver’s affection for the mabari that he remembered most.
“After this, I don’t think he’d mind going back to the farm life, leaving mud in the house and stealing baby carrots, isn’t that right boy?”
Hawke looked at him strangely the first time he went to the estate and offered to walk the mabari, and Fenris never gave a reason for the sudden interest - it was a secret, but that was alright.
So, so many Carver feels right now. So many of them!
of that dicso-themed AU fic by cypheroftyr inspired by a sketch I made earlier inspired by a comment from missl0nelyhearts encouraging everyone’s need of fluff..
where was I ? ah yes. Rum.
this was harder to draw than I anticipated….
I think you might be the best that has ever happened to Fluffy Friday. This gives me all kinds of good, fluffy feelings!
Carver watched in horror as the apostate let himself be consumed by a blue fury, moving towards the templars with unnatural speed, shouting with a voice not from this side of the veil.
He had spent his whole life around mages, seen magic for as far back as he could remember – but it had never been anything like this, not even close. Bethany had never wielded her powers in anger, and neither had his father even though the man had experienced many things that could have given him reason to.
Not even Garrett would make flesh melt beyond recognition, rip limbs from armoured bodies and toss them aside as if they did not weight anything at all, or as if the action did not mean anything at all.
When the apostate – the abomination – returned to himself, the way he touched and looked at the branded man made Carver avert his gaze, feeling like an intruder. He understood that anger and desperation better, then.
He felt as if they had been running around in this bloody labyrinth for hours. The worst part of it was the indignity – he, a Grey Warden used to navigating through the Deep Roads, getting lost in a noble’s cellar.
With the Prince of Starkhaven of all people. Not that he had anything against the man himself, but he was hardly inconspicuous, standing out more in his shining armour than an abomination covered in feathers. You could actually see your reflection in that thing.
Carver took another look at it and nodded to himself. If nothing else, at least he was having a good hair day.
Anders would have enjoyed this job much more than he did. And surely not even Anders would be stupid enough to let the elephant out? But as the ones in charge had seen it fit to give him this duty, he wasn’t completely ruling out the possibility. Anders was Anders, after all.
He turned his back to the baby, and something pulled at his hair.
“I think she likes you!” Sebastian laughed. Carver did not, and proceeded to untangle the strands from the trunk – a surprisingly hard task to complete one-handed.
He when he carefully shooed at her with his clipboard, she finally did let go. Only to grab his clipboard instead.
When the elephant threw it at Sebastian, Carver did laugh.
for skyelinepigeon and all her hard work…it’s not perfect. i’m so sorry, dove, i wanted it to be just the right thing and i wish it was like the BEST Carver ever. he deserves better than me. IDEK. here. for you. it’s like a soggy handful of limp daisies, but they’re for you.
It’s not that he hates everything. Though, Carver can admit how every person in this room might see it differently from time to time. There aren’t words enough — the right kinds, the ones that fit his mouth and his face — for how he wants to say certain things … so he just grinds his teeth and lets his eyebrows crowd a little lower until they’ve all given up teasing him. But they never really do. It’s a relentless thing with them.
But, this is too much.
“Just stand still, little brother. We’re trying to figure this out.” And Garrett doesn’t hide the sinister quality of his mirth. Ever.
So, Carver stands in the doorway between the living room and the library. He only wanted to fetch the small bag of gifts he’d managed to stash away. A collection of things he had hoped might prove just how much he didn’t hate everything. Until Isabela screeched for him to STOP RIGHT THERE, he never even saw the thing hanging over the threshold. Then Merrill said it was “mistletoe,” which had Mother and Anders clapping with some irrational joy that Carver, as always, felt excluded from.
“What is it, though?” He asks again, and fights the urge to look up at the bundle of shrubbery for a third time. The group of them continue to smile and giggle, gathered around the fire, but it’s Carver’s cheeks that are flames now.
“It’s an invitation, pet.” Comes the cryptic purr from Isabela.
“It’s toxic.” Anders offers, and winks at him from over the rim of his cider mug.
“It’s a tradition.” Mother stands and comes to him. She takes his face between her hands. Her fingers smell like the fir boughs she’s been twisting and shaping into decorations all day. “Whoever finds themselves beneath the mistletoe gets a kiss.”
This is one of my favourite Carver fics ever!