I was given an exercise like this in class. Pop a CD in or put your iPod on shuffle and write a story for as many songs as you want. You've got until that song finishes to write and then you have to move on. No lingering. I found it to be fun, really. Very trying, too. I barely finished any of them the first day. But, anyway, I wanted to try it on here with Dragon Age. I'll be writing about one of my characters. Dalish elf origin, female, named Xalix. Zevran and Alistair are both in this because I have a hell of a time deciding between the two of them. Just a warning: So, let's go!

Broken Stars-Silverstein

Seven years. It's been seven years, and she still hasn't left him. How could she possibly keep doing this to herself? With shaking fingers, she wipes the condensation off the mirror. Her face stares back, eyes dark, broken. Seven years as a mistress to the king. The price? Her soul.

Once, she was free. She can still hear Tamlen in the background, laughing at her jokes around the campfire. She can still remember the smell of the trees, the feel of the cool wind, the pure adrenaline when hunting. But no longer. No, now she is a creature of the city. She is no longer the Hero of Ferelden. She is a domesticated elf, a poster child for how easily the Dalish can be tamed.

Anger surges through her and not for the first time. Xalix cocks her fist back and lets it fly, breaking the mirror into a thousand pieces. It shatters, the shards falling into the sink basin. She catches the scent of blood. Her knuckles bleed openly, dripping down onto the broken pieces. Pieces of her life.

She falls to her knees and begins to sob quietly to herself. Her maid stumbles in, demanding to know what is wrong with her mistress.

Zoe Jane-Staind

Zevran can't remember what he was fighting for during the blight. He can't remember what made him want to get out of bed every morning or what he looked forward to every day of his life. But he knew now. It was her. His daughter, so alive and vibrant and, thank the Maker, healthy is staring straight at him. She is all dimples and black curls, stumbling towards him with a humorous look of concentration upon her face. She is just learning to walk, not quite good at it yet. He won't call her a master. When she finally reaches him, her tiny hand on his knee, he picks her up and tosses her in the air. She shrieks with laughter, mumbling nonsense.

Xalix comes up behind him, her hand on his shoulder. She kisses his cheek. Zevran throws an arm around his wife, squeezing his daughter tight against his chest.

"My girls," he murmurs, kissing his daughter's thick hair and breathing in her scent. For the first time in his life, he realizes he's truly happy.

Cry- Kelly Clarkson

It's hard for her to pretend that Leliana and Wynne aren't talking about her. Expecially when they talk so loud. Xalix closes her eyes and swallows, moving closer to the fire. She hopes that the sound of the crackling flames combined with the rhythmic striking of metal against a whetstone will drown out their gossiping. She doesn't think she can stand any more reminders of him.

Her efforts are in vain, however, because she is still remembering him. She is remembering the pain in his voice as he explained why they couldn't be together. She remembers the pitying looks from everyone, because Alistair just couldn't have asked to speak with her privately. He wanted an audience. He wanted some kind of backup, because he wasn't being the bad guy. She smiles slightly to herself because she's misjudging him. It was an oversight, not a ploy to embarrass her. She just wishes that he would be a little more selfish. She wishes she could blame the whole situation on callousness and not kindness. He is saving her years of hatred from the courts and embarrassing moments. Still, she feels she could put up with all of them if she could just hold him one more night.

Wynne sneaks up behind her while she stares unseeing into the flames. Her elderly human hand is on the elf's shoulder. Xalix doesn't look up. "This stage of grief will pass, dear."

When she does look up, there is a mysterious wetness in her eyes. "Is it over yet?"

I'd Lie-Taylor Swift

He doesn't know, which is good. She doesn't want him to. Alistair sits across from her, running his fingers through his hair and talking. She isn't listening, though. Oh, she pays attention enough just to fake a smile when he laughs at one of his own jokes. Inside, she's trying to count how many freckles are on his nose, how many colors are in his eyes, how many times he shifts under her gaze. He's human, and her feelings are taboo. What would her clan think? She can scarcely imagine.

No, it's best if it stays a secret.

She knows that this virgin boy doesn't see her in that sense. How could he? A human...she was probably detestable to him. She wishes that that wasn't the case, though. She smiles slightly to herself and scoots closer to him.

It's later when Zevran comes up behind her to poke fun at something or ask her if she knew just how beautiful she was that she realizes something. "You love him don't you? The king and the elf...would make a good story, hmm?"

She realizes that if Alistair ever asks, she'll have to lie.

Call Me- Shinedown

"You don't have to go," Leliana whispers. It's raining. It rains a lot since the end of the blight, as though the sky is weeping out of relief. Xalix chances another glance at Anora and Alistair. She's confident that they'll be fine. She confident that the two of them can make the world a better place, each complimenting the other. She's glad she convinced Alistair to marry the queen.

"Yeah," she answers, lugging her bag over her shoulder, "I really do." The blood red gown that the maids picked out for her is folded up on her bed. Only the bard and the assassin caught her sneaking out. Zevran stands off to the side, not saying anything. What can he say?

"Please," the bard begs, rain dripping down her pretty face and full lips. "You've become my best friend. I don't want to lose you so soon." Xalix can't tell if she's crying or not.

Licking her lips, Xalix approaches cautiously. She extends her hands to Zevran who shakes it respectively. He knows the feeling of being trapped. He knows that she's a creature who values freedom. She wraps Leliana in a brief hug, pulling back far too soon.

"Be happy, please," she implores. "Understand that I can't stay here. I can't give up my freedom to be a hero." She snaps her fingers. The mabari lunges into the picture, right by her side as she walks away.

Zevran smiles sadly to himself. He regrets not giving her the earring.

Skin-Natalie Merchant

She hears him enter her tent, and she doesn't do anything about it. For a moment, she figures that Tamlen would probably be upset with her for giving up so easily. She doesn't care. She hears the hiss of metal as the assassin unsheathes a dagger, and she keeps her breathing even. Why should she fight anymore? Why should she continue living while her mate lay dead at the edge of camp? Why should her life be a constant struggle? If Zevran could plunge a dagger into her heart while she slept...a man whom had called her friend...what did she have left to fight for?

Zevran kneeled beside her, the tip of the dagger pressed against her chest. It barely broke the skin, but it was painful and sharp. She stared up at him with green eyes, silently begging him to do it. When he hesitated, she wrapped a hand around the hilt and pressed down slightly. A drop of blood beaded up around the tip and soaked through her thin gown. Emotion flickered in the crow's eyes.

"Either kill me or leave, Zevran," she ordered harshly.

Zevran stood and sheathed the dagger, silently leaving her tent.

She didn't know if it was rage, relief, or sadness that made her cry.

Carry on Dancing-Savage Garden

"Um, I don't know how to dance," Xalix admits, blood tinging her throat pink. She rubs absently at her wounded shoulder and takes a step back. The formal gown is making her uncomfortable, showing far too much cleavage and all of her battle scars to the world. She is a warrior and not a woman of the court. Yet, Alistair insisted she attend his wedding.

Leliana claps her hands enthusiastically. "It's easy, I swear! Come on, I'll show you!" Without waiting for permission, the bard grabs Xalix's hand and yanks her forward so that they're pressed flush together. Xalix hisses in pain as her dislocated shoulder cries out against the treatment. The bard doesn't even notice.

"You just keep your feet moving, and let me lead, all right?" Leliana smiles.

"Yeah."

It's awkward to begin with but increases ten-fold when Zevran saunters up and chuckles. "All right, I'm game, but can we add that lovely little maid to the group before we go to the bedroom?"

Hey Lady-Thriving Ivory

"I'm leaving," she says softly. "I'm leaving tonight."

Zevran glances up, something like fear in his eyes. He puts down his tools. It's late; the fire is crackling before them. It's their third month together alone. "Where are you going to go, love?"

Her green eyes switch over to him. "The Dalish camps. I want to go home."

"That's a damn shame," he sighs dramatically.

She stands, affronted. "Why can't you act like you care for once? I tell you I'm leaving you, and that's all you can say?"

He smiles and walks over to her. "It's a damn shame because I was just about to surprise you with this." Zevran doesn't hesitate to sink down on one knee and slide a ring onto her finger to replace the Keeper's.

"Zev..." she whispers, trembling slightly. "But you said...?"

"I'm a fool often enough that you shouldn't be surprised," he murmurs, kissing her knuckles and slowly getting to his feet.

"You mean it? But I can't..." she trails off, avoiding his gaze. Zevran frowns and cups her chin, tilting her face up to his.

"I don't care," he says, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "I love you. I need you. Forever."

She throws herself into his arms.

Hellfire-Hunchback of Notre Dame

He's never seen her play with fire. It's a trick the Dalish taught her. First, she coats her swords in a slick oil and heats them until flames lick up the length and twirls them. She's fast, quicker than any bard he's ever seen, and she's very talented. She tosses them in the air, jumps, catches them, dances with Leliana who seems to know a trick or two about the dance herself.

Alistair finds himself getting hot under the collar, twisting uncomfortably in his armor. Xalix arches, twirls, and ducks around the human girl. She's too fast to catch, too limber to hold. His mouth is dry, and he glances away. Andraste, were all elves so flexible?

Oghren nudges him. "Heh, heh...guess you're not the innocent chantry boy we all though you were, hmm?"

Alistair groans and buries his head in his hands, flushing.

Hero of War-Rise Against

She can't believe the mayhem. The alienage...left to rot and die under the pressure the blight had put on them. It is desolate, elves dying from disease all around. Women cry over the bodies of their dead husbands and sons and daughters. The bodies lie in the street, no one left alive to govern the others to carry them away. She has been ordered by Anora to round them up for a transfer out of the alienage until it can be repaired.

The ones capable of walking, not crippled by injury or grief, stand in a group by the tree. The sight of them cowering sickens her. Her own people...if she had known, she would have helped them more. There is a skirmish in the back. She sighs and walks slowly. When the shouts increase in volume, her pace increases to compensate.

When she pushes through the crowd, she sees three human soldiers, their swords raised. A woman stands in the middle, half crazed with starvation and dehydration. They order her to get back in line. She doesn't move, muttering to herself and reaching out her emaciated hands. They warn her one last time. She won't heed the warning and trips over her own feet, straight into the arms of a waiting soldier. His arms aren't the only thing to catch her, though. His sword penetrates the elf's soft flesh.

"No!" Xalix yells, running forward. The soldiers laugh callously. Removing the still twitching body from his sword, the soldier kicks her in the ribs and chuckles.

Xalix doesn't feel that she needs to explain the dagger in his back or that the extra poultices go to the wounded elves rather than the human soldiers.

Ended on a sour note, eh? I urge you to try this if you are a writer. It's an amazing cure for writer's block, really. Also, check out some of these songs. I love them all.