Dorian Pavus is really important to me.
He uses humor like a shield. Everything is met with a witty comeback or flirtatious remark to keep everyone at a distance. Maybe if he acts like nothing bothers him for long enough, someday he’ll be truly untouchable.
He drinks more than he should, more than is healthy. He’ll never find the answers he wants at the bottom of the bottle, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. It’s his default action. A crutch. A problem.
He isn’t used to people caring for him. He tends to fall in and out of bed with people, doing his best to keep the feelings at bay. Because they’re forbidden, not allowed. So he jokes about the decorations and hopes he’s not too obvious.
When he discovers that the Trevelyan and Pavus clans are related, however distantly, he is happier than he has been in a long time. It’s a tangible form of belonging that he has only known before in his Amulet. But this is better. Because it doesn’t symbolize a family that rejected him, it symbolizes a friend. A new family in the Inquisition.
He’s flawed and hurt and imperfect. He’s been rejected his whole life by people that should love him. Yet he still finds strength everyday to love who he loves and feel what he feels—no matter how much it hurts.













