Aveline Vallen
"The Guardian"
Status Alive
Race Human
Age 26
Birth Date TBD
Gender Female
Sexual Orientation Heterosexual
Hometown Ferelden
Residence City Guard Barracks, Kirkwall
Affiliation Kirkwall City Guard
Occupation City Guard
Class Warrior
Specialization Guardian
Gear Standard guard issue plate, Wesley’s Templar shield and her own blade, Chevalier’s Reach
Behind the Mask
Player phoenixandashes
Face Claim N/A
Profile Link Here




Aveline was perhaps the only guard in Kirkwall who dreaded returning from patrol.

Finishing a patrol meant she had to stop. To think. Even a year on, a moment’s thought to herself was one moment too many ( there was only so much she worrying about Hawke and his family that she could do, and she did enough of that while on patrol, wondering if today would be the day she would end up inadvertently catching them as they completed their year’s work). Keeping busy, keeping focused – that was the way she moved forward.

Moved on.

She lifted Wesley’s old shield into her lap and ran a polishing rag over its scratched surface. Oh she’d thought about selling it. She’d thought about throwing it off the Blighted boat from Gwaren. Throwing it at the redfaced and dazed Templar recruits that she saw staggering from the Rose all the while shouting that they were a disgrace, an insult to those true and honourable and...

Devoted, kind and foolish, always willing to take on those jobs that led him away from home, always willing to let her do the same...

No. No. It had been a year. She had to stop pulling apart her memories like this, picking at them like a raven at a corpse. Because inevitably they ended up at the same one, that final one... his bruised and greying skin, his veins black and visible, his once dark and handsome eyes awash with white and his blood on her hands, his last breath a stuttering rattle and that damnable reassuring smile still on his face.

Only you would try to reassure me while I killed you. She shook her head disbelievingly, her hand moving in practiced circles over the shields face. Altruistic son of a bitch.

She would sell the shield tomorrow, she decided. Give it back to the Templars, pawn it in the market and leave the coin in Lirene’s refugee box. Time to truly, one hundred per cent, let him go and the finally fall into sync with Kirkwall life.

She would sell the shield tomorrow.

But then, like every time she made that decision, she would wake in the morning, get dressed and pick up her sword and her shield as usual, carrying Wesley with her for another day, her husband’s memory carrying her through her trials more than it would ever hinder her.