slothquisitor

[slothquisitor]

what veilguard is doing with the theme of grief... man. dragon age has always been, one way or another, about grief. how you can never go back. how you could go back, but it will never be the same. you must learn to be-with (in the heideggeran sense, as in "each one exists in a world saturated with others linked through shared social practices") grief in order to make it out alive.

as the warden, you lose everything you ever knew before: your family, your home, your friends, everything. it is all still there–except, maybe for cousland and aeducan–but you can never return to it. not as you were, and not as it was. you have been changed, and your past has changed with you.

as hawke, you are a refugeee. your very name is synonymous with grief. you claw your way out of a dying country only to find a dying city instead. all of your friends should be dead but aren't. you should be dead but aren't. whatever you do, you will fail. there is no returning to ferelden. there is no saving kirkwall.

with inquisition, because your character backstory is so much less defined (in-game, at least), the theme of grief is expanded towards the rest of the world. the theme shifts from being personal to global, the grief theme becoming intertwined with greater, historical questions. what does it mean to grieve empire? what does it mean to grieve a system that was, even if it hurt so many?

and, from what i've seen so far, veilguard is bringing that theme forward and honing it into a thematic spear. every quest, every companion, every npc story you follow. all of it is building together to try and answer the questions the previous three games have been asking:

can you go back? should you go back? is it healthy to want to go back? what can you do, when "back" is gone, a dream from a lifetime, a memory, a thousand years ago?

your brother is dead. can you mourn him? your grandmother is dead. can you mourn her? your mother is a refugee who did the best she could and it still wasn't enough. can you mourn what could have been? can you mourn your city? your purpose, when all you were was built to die and you didn't? can you face death singing? you have to. the blight can be soothed but not beaten. the veil cannot be taken back, a thousand years of elven deaths and mage deaths cannot be taken back. there is no other way but through.

[slothquisitor]

Been a minute since I drew the faves. Still sooooo messy, but slowly cleaning it up.

[slothquisitor]

Evening reblog!

On Matters of Inertia: Chapter Twenty-One

Summary: Camina, Lucanis, and Neve run into some familiar faces in Jader. Post-game shenanigans, Lucanis/Rook, established relationship, 4.5k.

Also on AO3.

___________________________________________________________

Jader is bright and loud and Camina is exhausted.

She'd found it difficult to find sleep after they'd finally left Kavlo's home near dawn. It had taken that long to search the house, to help the Shadow Dragons identify bodies, to postulate about whatever Kavlo and Erimond had been up to. They've got some ideas, though Neve is still working on decoding the book they found. Best they could tell, these two Venatori were experimenting with blood magic and red lyrium on darkspawn, though what their final aims were…it's hard to say. She just hopes that whatever is in the book they found, Neve is able to decode.

She and Lucanis had returned to the inn and caught a few hours of sleep. In a reversal of sorts, Lucanis had slept much better than her. She'd been unable to banish the images of the Kavlo house, the guilt of not getting there sooner. There's no rush to get to Jader, to meet with Neve's contact, but Camina is desperate for something to keep her mind off the case. She just wants to do something.

"Ever been through here, Lucanis?" Neve asks as the three of them wind through the crowded streets of the port city.

Lucanis, as usual, is bearing the exhaustion better than either of them. "Several times. It's always been a convenient way into Orlais."

Camina has been here exactly one time. It had been a few months into her time with Varric and Harding, chasing rumor and shadows across Thedas. The city sits near the border of Ferelden and is the closest port city to Orzammar; as such, it bears the signs of all three. It remained largely untouched in the Blight, and the prioritization of trade routes made it an important city for the South to keep protected. She hates that she understands that, that it's a decision that makes sense to her. She wishes that knowing what it means to sacrifice whole cities and towns to protect a place like this wasn't something she understood. She wishes she didn't look at the edges of the harbor, the areas still not quite repaired from Ghilan'nain's leviathans, and feel some measure of relief. That Ghilan'nain had tried and failed to take the city, that it stands as proof they were right to protect it. It wasn't her call, but it doesn't matter; she feels the weight of it anyway.

She used to enjoy visiting new places and cities. Now she just feels a wave of homesickness for the Necropolis that she hasn't felt since those first few months travelling with Varric and Harding.

"You don't just go all the way to Val Royeaux?" Neve asks.

Lucanis shrugs. "Sometimes, but have you been on a boat for weeks on end?"

"Can't say I have."

"It is…unpleasant. Sometimes adding a few extra days to get where you're going is worth it if those days mean roadside inns and ground that doesn't shift below you."

"But now, there's the eluvians," Camina says. They made the short walk in the Crossroads in less than an hour. "Do you think people will ever take weeks to travel by boat again?"

"Depends on the price," Neve replies, cynically.

Lucanis and Neve are discussing the differences in how each country seems to run its access to the eluvians, and Camina simply follows behind. The buildings are an eclectic mix of Fereldan and Orlesian styles, and the people walking are as varied as the languages they hear. She's reminded of those first few cities she'd visited with Varric; she'd play games with Harding in the crowds, trying to guess the languages they could hear spoken around them. Harding was almost always better at it than she was. It's not that she'd trade her life now to go back to those times, but she does miss her friends, the simplicity. The ability to anonymously follow someone else and the belief that everything was going to be okay because Varric said so.

"Uh, Rook, you still with us?" Neve asks, bumping lightly into her.

Camina blinks the memories away. "Yeah, sorry. Just tired."

She can tell that neither Lucanis nor Neve really believes her, but it doesn't matter because they've arrived at the Blade and Stars. It's just ahead of them at the end of the block.

"You two head in; I'm going to go in separately, keep an eye on things," Lucanis says. At first glance, he looks like any other traveler, nondescript leathers, a single visible knife. He wanted to keep a low profile in case this is some sort of trap. She hadn't argued.

"Fair enough," Neve replies, and she and Camina head further up the block while Lucanis melts into the crowd.

It's early evening and the Blade and Stars is already bustling with people. Camina follows Neve through the maze of people to the bar. The barkeep is a pretty elven woman with bright red hair, she handles some orders before turning her attention to them.

"What can I get for you?" she asks. Her accent is smooth, Trade with an Orlesian tilt.

Neve keeps her voice low, buried beneath the noise of the bar. "Here to meet an old mate from Denerim."

"'Course you are. Take a seat over there," the woman says, gesturing at a conspicuously empty table. "Might be a while, want something while you wait?"

"Whatever's most popular," Camina says, sliding a few coins across the counter. She's overpaying a bit, but she learned this trick from Varric: always keep the barkeep happy in a place like this.

The woman winks and hands over two cups of what smells like cheap ale. "Good evening to you."

Camina and Neve settle down at the table. It's strange it's been left empty despite how busy it is in here, but places have rhythms, and they don't know enough about Jader to guess what they've stumbled into. Somewhere out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lucanis in the crowd. She does her best not to look his way.

They sit for a long, long while. The crowd around them ebbs and flows, getting rowdier as the evening drags on. Someone bumps into their table, Camina doesn't get a good look at their face, too concerned with trying to keep her drink from toppling to the ground, but as they disappear in the crowd, there is a scrap of paper left behind, folded like a bird.

"What's this?"Neve asks, snatching the note and opening it in her lap. She frowns. "It says 'Walk where it smells like fish'."

Camina sighs. "Time to go?"

"Guess so."

Only once they get out on the street does Camina dare speak. "A place that smells like fish? That'd be the docks, right?"

"A fishmonger row, perhaps?" Neve asks.

They don't bother waiting for Lucanis, knowing he'll be happier following from a distance instead. They retrace their steps along the main thoroughfare back towards the docks, able to keep an eye out for the crowds to direct them to the market. The market itself is packed with people; it's difficult to move, and Camina has to stay behind Neve's much taller frame as they move in single file through between the stalls.

"Hey! You want a sample?" A young boy in a pair of dirty overalls beside a fish stall grabs her sleeve. Camina immediately pulls her hand back, but not before he slips something into her pocket with a quick nod. She passes it to Neve, who leads them to a somewhat less busy area of the market, where they can at least stand without being jostled.

"It says 'Nearly there, find Andraste's shiny tit, then look up'," Neve reads before tucking the note away.

"Andraste's shiny tit? Really?" Camina asks, unable to repress a snort.

Normally, Neve's just as good for a joke, but not when she's on a case; she ignores her. "Isn't Jader the birthplace of Andraste?" Neve asks.

Camina nods. "So they claim. Pretty popular claim. I've been to at least three Andraste birthplaces. Wild to think she'd be born so many times! Maybe if we're lucky, there's a commemorative mug to buy by the tit."

Neve rolls her eyes. "Okay. Is there a statue here of her? A metal one, perhaps?"

"I don't know, didn't exactly spend time looking for a place to pray last time I was here."

Neve grins. "But you'd remember a shiny tit, right?"

She laughs, thrilled that Neve is finally playing along. "Absolutely. My favorite tits are the shiny ones."

"Are you going to be content now that I set you up for the joke?" Neve asks as they walk out of the market.

Camina is satisfied. "Sure. Should we head for the Chantry?"

"Seems as good an idea as any. This is a lot of run around for a simple meeting."

Camina shrugs. "Maybe. I mean, they're clearly keeping an eye on us. Maybe they just want to know we're serious?"

"Or they're leading us on a wild goose chase for nothing," Neve replies.

"That too."

It's a relief to walk the streets after how crowded the market had been. Making their way to the Chantry is easy enough; it towers over everything else in the city, and as they approach, there is a metal statue of Andraste…with one tit out.

"Well, that can't be comfortable," Camina says. "The note said to look up?"

And they do, glancing around the nearby rooftops illuminated in the orange and pinks of the sunset, there's a single red ribbon billowing in the breeze on the nearest one. "There," Neve points it out.

The building itself is clearly closed up for the evening, seems to be a shop of some kind. Neve suggests that they head back behind the building to scale it, and Camina resists complaining about the fact that no one ever wants to just meet at street level. Luckily for them, there's a ladder simply waiting. Convenient. Perhaps too much so. Still, she scales it ahead of Neve.

When they arrive, the rooftop is empty beyond the single ribbon. "Maybe there's something on it," she says, stepping up to the metal grate it's tied to.

Neve seems annoyed. "There better be because I don't see anything else."

As they try to reach the ribbon, there's a sound of someone blowing a raspberry behind them. They whirl around to find themselves being regarded by a waifish elven woman with a bow strapped to her back. Her blonde hair is cut short, the bangs entirely uneven, and she wears a truly baffling combination of prints and patterns.

"You're slow," she says.

"I'm sorry?" Camina replies.

The woman unfolds herself from her perch on the ledge of the building. ""Could’ve been slow and stupid, yeah? But nah. Small mercies. You're the detectivey one, right?"

Neve folds her arms. "I am."

"And you're the Rook?"

Camina nods.

The woman looks around with a frown. ""Oi, tell your stabby Crow to pop out. We’re not whispering secret-like. Friends, yeah? Supposed to be."

She doesn't have to say anything; Lucanis appears on the next building over, having somehow stayed entirely hidden from her view. He makes his way gracefully over to them, sketches a bow in the direction of the woman.

"Red Jenny, I presume?"

The woman rolls her eyes. "Name's Sera."

Camina grins; she knows that name. "Tell me you stole someone's pants on the way here."

Sera tilts her head before giving them all a real smile. "So you are Varric's Rook! Come on, let's talk somewhere less…roofy."

***

Sera moves with more grace than Lucanis would expect outside the Crows. They follow her through tight back alleyways that seem to turn and twist on themselves before she leads them through a door tucked halfway down a narrow street. Inside is a hidden bar, not busy but filled with people who all do a very good job at not noticing their entrance, which tells Lucanis that every last one of them is paying very special attention to them. He doesn't like this; it feels like a trap, but this person, this Sera, knew Varric, knows Dorian. And that means she knew Harding, too.

Spite keeps a rotating watch of the room, eyes narrowed. "Look like normal people, but they're armed and ready. Not a bar but a den."

He can't say he's surprised. No matter how highly recommended, he'd want to take a meeting surrounded by his own people, too. Sera stops at a table, gestures for them to sit down, but her attention never quite leaves him. He gets the feeling she doesn't like him, so he decides to keep quiet.

She pulls up her own chair. "So, you all knew Varric?"

Neve and Camina nod. He stays silent.

"I traveled with him and Harding on their search for Solas," Camina says. "We hired Neve in Minrathous right before…"

"Everything went tits up?"

Camina flinches a little. "Yeah."

"Dorian said you needed some help, and Mr. 'I'm the all-powerful Archon now' promised me he'd owe me a favor if I helped," Sera says. Her voice is lilted, and her mocking of Dorian's accent is as bad as it is funny.

"We'd appreciate that. Your note said you had a friend who might help us answer some questions about dwarven magic," Neve presses.

Sera shrugs. "Maybe. Depends on why you're asking."

"You were friends with Harding, too, weren't you?" Camina asks. "During the Inquisition?"

Sera looks somewhat uncomfortable. "Got loads of friends, yeah? Harding was good people. Looked out for folks. Always up for a laugh. Glad she went off with Varric… ‘cept now they’re both gone, so… yeah."

"We couldn't ever find Harding's body, but she had special powers…Titan powers. It connected her to another dwarf, a woman who used to be Shaper Valta."

Sera glares at them, shaking her head. "I didn't like it down there; there was too much sky."

Confusion is clear on Neve's face. "You were there? With the Inquisitor?"

"She wanted to stay; Inky tried to tell her no…but she wanted it," Sera says, words whisper soft, laced with horror. Then abruptly she shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about that anymore."

Neve looks frustrated, but Camina is gentle. "It's okay, we don't have to. I only bring it up because Harding could hear others…through her magic. We hoped that maybe…others could hear her. Maybe tell us if…she's still….out there."

"How'd you be able to tell if they could?"

"We're hoping just by asking them."

Sera seems to consider that. "That's it then? That's all you want?"

"Yes."

Sera's jovial mood has muted somewhat, but she gestures for someone to join them. A dwarven woman with red-brown hair approaches the table, sits boldly in Sera's lap. That's when Lucanis notices the matching rings on their hands.

"Hi! I'm Dagna! You must be Rook!"

Camina nods. "Nice to meet you. These are my friends Neve and Lucanis."

Dagna's eyes light up when she sees him. "You’re the abomination! Brilliant. I have—hang on, let me count—at least fourteen questions for you."

Spite flinches, visibly. "No."

Her enthusiasm is both off-putting and concerning, but he manages a smile and hopes Spite doesn't throw too much of a fit. "And I'd be happy to answer them if you'd help us out with ours."

Dagna nods. "Of course! But um…well, I'm maybe not who you want to talk to."

Neve's brow furrows. "You're not?"

Dagna sighs. "Pfft. I wish. I didn't get cool stone magic. I was hopeful that I would, especially after Harding wrote and we met a few others, too. But now their magic is disappearing-"

"What do you mean their magic is disappearing?" Camina asks.

Dagna covers her mouth. "I maybe shouldn't have mentioned that part."

Sera shakes her head. "Things are weird, yeah? Get cool magic, get connection…then it goes away. Makes them feel…incomplete. We'll take you to them, but maybe not all of you. Might be too much new. Too much weird."

Everything Sera says feels like it comes out in a roundabout way. So they've got a contact, but they don't want to take all of them there?

Camina nods. "That sounds reasonable. This is Neve's case, so you should take her."

Neve shakes her head. "Go on, Rook. You're the one everyone knows."

Sera shrugs. "Talk it over, whatever. Crow’s not coming. Got limits on how many knives I can dodge."

He grins; he only has one knife visible. "What knives?"

Sera looks unimpressed. "Too many damn Crows lately."

"You've had dealings recently with the Crows?" Neve asks archly.

Dagna nods. "Yeah, there was this information broker we worked with in Cumberland…he swore up and down he wasn't a Crow…but…"

"He was. It's in the footwork. And where you hide your knives."

Lucanis frowns. He doesn't know of any Crow contacts in Cumberland…most Nevarran contracts tend to be in Nevarra City. He'll have to ask Teia about it next time he sees her. He wants to ask more questions, but he suspects he won't get any real answers anyway.

Sera leans forward. "So, who'll it be? Fancy detective or big special hero?"

"Big special hero," Neve answers before looking at Camina. "Take notes."

Camina looks like she wants to argue, but instead nods. "Will do."

"Works. Come with me. You two stay here. Try not to start anything while we're gone, yeah?"

Neve gives them a winning smile. "We'll be on our best behavior."

Lucanis would feel better tailing them, but Camina can handle herself, and it's clear there's some history there with their connections to Varric and Harding. He trusts these contacts even if he's pretty sure it's not mutual. He watches Camina until the door closes, leaving him and Neve surrounded by strangers.

"I'm surprised you didn't want to go," he says.

Neve sighs. "It's not that I didn't…it's just that…well. I'm not too proud to admit when someone's better at something than I am."

"What are you talking about?"

"You heard them, their contact no longer has their magic…that's….they need a more empathetic ear. Maybe someone better at feelings. I worry that I've been chasing this down so long that I'm not sure I won't push too hard," Neve says.

Camina is good in delicate situations, it's true. But he's seen Neve be just as kind. "I think you're selling yourself a little short. Did something happen?"

Neve shakes her head.

He takes a chance. "Is this about Claudia?"

"Don't you start."

He raises his hands. "What? I'm just asking. You're living together; that seems serious."

"It's…complicated."

"How?"

Neve doesn't look at him, instead runs her fingers against the wood grain of the table. "She's not going to stay in Minrathous forever."

"She's been in Minrathous for a while…and so what if she doesn't. The eluvians make travel easy, it's-"

"People don't stick around. Not in Dock Town."

Maybe that's what's going on here. Or maybe Neve is just scared, the same way he was when he realized the enormity of what he felt for Camina. He remembers an afternoon in Neve's office, her gentle prodding. "'The world’s a terrible and unfair place filled with terrible and unfair people. We find what happiness and peace we can, and we hold onto it.'”

Neve's eyes narrow. "You did threaten to parrot that back to me, didn't you?"

"I did, but I thought you were smarter than me and that you wouldn't need it," he replies with a smile.

She chuckles, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, flattery? That's going to go a lot better than the interrogation."

He laughs then, too. "No interrogation from me. I just want to see you happy."

Neve's smile is a little fragile. "I wish it were that simple."

***

"You know, wasn't sure about you when I first heard things," Sera says as they walk along the slowly darkening streets. The sun is properly setting now, but the city is still bright, still lively under the brightness of the moons.

"What things?" Camina asks.

"Crossroads things. Letting Solas live things."

"You wanted Solas dead? Wasn't he your friend?"

Sera makes a frustrated sound. "We weren't ever friends. Not when it's all built on lies in the first place. He always knew more than he said, looked at me like…doesn't matter. But then he killed Varric, and you were his friend, too. You didn't kill him, why?"

She hasn't been asked this directly by anyone. She'd expected more pushback, especially from her team, but then, many of them saw what she did. Her and the Inquisitor's pleading, it not mattering…not until Mythal had her say. And what had Varric been fighting for? His friend, sure, but to keep the world intact, too. And Solas had been willing, and she'd let him go.

Camina picks her words carefully. "He helped us…in the end. And people who knew him better, the Inquisitor…Harding…Varric…they didn't want him dead." She's not sure if it's a good thing or not, invoking the names of two dead friends who died either directly or indirectly at Solas's hands…but it's the truth.

Dagna chirps up then. "Well, we didn't really want him dead either…mostly."

Camina changes the subject. "And the Crossroads?"

"Don't use them if I can avoid it. Worried about what would happen when you gave them to the Veil Jumpers. Giving power to people usually just makes them want to punch down, but they're really trying to make things better. Elfy or not."

Camina shrugs. "It's not perfect. And you don't use them?"

Sera shakes her head. "Got friends who do. Fine enough for me. Been in the Fade enough. We stay busy enough as is. Supply routes are still fucked, and people come into the city every day, starving, looking for better."

She listens while Sera and Dagna tell her of the refugees still arriving from far-flung places in Ferelden and Orlais, the towns and cities in the south still choked with blight, not quite important or strategic enough to clear yet, unlike Denerim and Skyhold. She gathers that they spend a lot of their time helping the little people, the ones left behind or who fall through the cracks. It's a bleak reminder that the blight might be over, but the effects are not. That perhaps they'll be felt for years and years and years-

They pause outside a small, stone house. They've walked to the outskirts of Jader, where the city turns more forested and wild, the houses farther apart. It's peaceful this evening, only a few people milling about, heading home for the evening.

Sera nods to Dagna. "He agreed to a chat, but it's painful, yeah? You seem nice, but keep nice."

"I promise," Camina says.

Dagna knocks on the door, and they're greeted by an older dwarven woman, her face tight. She greets Dagna and Sera warmly, though, glancing at her with suspicion. "A new friend of ours, Rook, this is Helena."

Camina doesn't miss the subtle name drop or the way the woman's eyes widen. Camina offers a wave. "Nice to meet you."

Helena nods, opening the door wide. "Art's in his room."

"Thank you," Dagna says, and Camina follows them through the small cottage to a room with a closed door.

Dagna knocks only once before entering, cheerfully calling hello as she beckons them in. Inside the sparse room lies a dwarven boy. He can't be older than twenty. He lies in his bed, fully dressed, eyes glassy.

"Art! We brought someone you might want to meet. This is Rook! She's here with some questions about your powers. Is that alright?" Dagna asks. She pulls out a chair, gestures for Camina to take a seat while she busies herself lighting the nearby candles. Sera hangs at the door, leaning against it and watching the entire exchange with sharp eyes.

Art doesn't reply, barely makes any indication he's heard Dagna at all. Camina glances at Dagna with concern, but Dagna simply waves her hands forward, encouraging her. Camina wonders helplessly if all of this has been a mistake. She tries anyway. "Hello Art. It's nice to meet you."

Nothing.

She tries again. "Your friends tell me that you're a bit like my friend, Harding. She had stone powers, too."

Art's eyes remain unfocused, glassy. As though she's not there at all.

"My friend called the magic, Isatunoll. Is that…familiar to you?"

A sharp intake of breath. Art reacts to that, finally looking at her. "Isatunoll."

She nods. "Yeah. My friend was so confused when those powers found her, but she could hear voices…a connection - the eternal hymn."

Art nods. "It is so quiet now; I miss the song." Tears well in his eyes, run over and into his hair.

"When did you stop hearing it?"

Art's eyes close for a moment. "Time…feels slippery. Weeks? Months?"

"A couple months," Dagna offers.

Art nods. "So long without it. It hurts. It hurts."

"I'm so sorry, Art," Camina says. "My friend…she could hear others like her….someone named Valta. Did you hear anyone else in the song?"

He shakes his head, and Camina's heart sinks. "Not others, but I knew I wasn't alone. Could feel that I was one…of a larger whole."

She supposes that makes sense, or enough sense anyway. The dwarves used to be connected. And now that Art is without that connection…she wonders what's happened to it. Why it's different. What changed two months ago? It doesn't make sense.

"Did you ever feel anything in the song? Anything strange? A change? A loss…?" She's grasping at straws here; she can feel it, the desperation in her voice.

She can see Sera shifting impatiently out of the corner of her eye. If she presses Art too far, she knows they'll cut her off; she needs to make every question count.

Art nods, but his discomfort is clear. "Yes, it…diminished before it severed."

"Diminished how? When?"

"I don't know….it was simply less. I didn't notice until I noticed…and then the song was gone," Art sobs, body shaking with the force of his grief.

Dagna places a hand on Art's shoulder, moving between Camina and him. "That's enough for today, I think. You've been so helpful, Art."

Only now she has only has more questions, but she nods in his direction. "Thank you, Art."

She stands, and Sera opens the door; it's clear Dagna will be staying for a bit. She's almost over the threshold when Art sits up; it's the most energy she's seen from him through the entire conversation. He reaches a hand out to her. "There was a name. Shouted over and over. A plea. A warning."

She turns back. "A name? What name?"

Art's tear-stained face stares at her like he's seeing her for the first time. "Yours."

[slothquisitor]

Rook & Lucanis + rushing to each other

[slothquisitor]

On Matters of Inertia: Chapter Twenty-One

Summary: Camina, Lucanis, and Neve run into some familiar faces in Jader. Post-game shenanigans, Lucanis/Rook, established relationship, 4.5k.

Also on AO3.

___________________________________________________________

Jader is bright and loud and Camina is exhausted.

She'd found it difficult to find sleep after they'd finally left Kavlo's home near dawn. It had taken that long to search the house, to help the Shadow Dragons identify bodies, to postulate about whatever Kavlo and Erimond had been up to. They've got some ideas, though Neve is still working on decoding the book they found. Best they could tell, these two Venatori were experimenting with blood magic and red lyrium on darkspawn, though what their final aims were…it's hard to say. She just hopes that whatever is in the book they found, Neve is able to decode.

She and Lucanis had returned to the inn and caught a few hours of sleep. In a reversal of sorts, Lucanis had slept much better than her. She'd been unable to banish the images of the Kavlo house, the guilt of not getting there sooner. There's no rush to get to Jader, to meet with Neve's contact, but Camina is desperate for something to keep her mind off the case. She just wants to do something.

"Ever been through here, Lucanis?" Neve asks as the three of them wind through the crowded streets of the port city.

Lucanis, as usual, is bearing the exhaustion better than either of them. "Several times. It's always been a convenient way into Orlais."

Camina has been here exactly one time. It had been a few months into her time with Varric and Harding, chasing rumor and shadows across Thedas. The city sits near the border of Ferelden and is the closest port city to Orzammar; as such, it bears the signs of all three. It remained largely untouched in the Blight, and the prioritization of trade routes made it an important city for the South to keep protected. She hates that she understands that, that it's a decision that makes sense to her. She wishes that knowing what it means to sacrifice whole cities and towns to protect a place like this wasn't something she understood. She wishes she didn't look at the edges of the harbor, the areas still not quite repaired from Ghilan'nain's leviathans, and feel some measure of relief. That Ghilan'nain had tried and failed to take the city, that it stands as proof they were right to protect it. It wasn't her call, but it doesn't matter; she feels the weight of it anyway.

She used to enjoy visiting new places and cities. Now she just feels a wave of homesickness for the Necropolis that she hasn't felt since those first few months travelling with Varric and Harding.

"You don't just go all the way to Val Royeaux?" Neve asks.

Lucanis shrugs. "Sometimes, but have you been on a boat for weeks on end?"

"Can't say I have."

"It is…unpleasant. Sometimes adding a few extra days to get where you're going is worth it if those days mean roadside inns and ground that doesn't shift below you."

"But now, there's the eluvians," Camina says. They made the short walk in the Crossroads in less than an hour. "Do you think people will ever take weeks to travel by boat again?"

"Depends on the price," Neve replies, cynically.

Lucanis and Neve are discussing the differences in how each country seems to run its access to the eluvians, and Camina simply follows behind. The buildings are an eclectic mix of Fereldan and Orlesian styles, and the people walking are as varied as the languages they hear. She's reminded of those first few cities she'd visited with Varric; she'd play games with Harding in the crowds, trying to guess the languages they could hear spoken around them. Harding was almost always better at it than she was. It's not that she'd trade her life now to go back to those times, but she does miss her friends, the simplicity. The ability to anonymously follow someone else and the belief that everything was going to be okay because Varric said so.

"Uh, Rook, you still with us?" Neve asks, bumping lightly into her.

Camina blinks the memories away. "Yeah, sorry. Just tired."

She can tell that neither Lucanis nor Neve really believes her, but it doesn't matter because they've arrived at the Blade and Stars. It's just ahead of them at the end of the block.

"You two head in; I'm going to go in separately, keep an eye on things," Lucanis says. At first glance, he looks like any other traveler, nondescript leathers, a single visible knife. He wanted to keep a low profile in case this is some sort of trap. She hadn't argued.

"Fair enough," Neve replies, and she and Camina head further up the block while Lucanis melts into the crowd.

It's early evening and the Blade and Stars is already bustling with people. Camina follows Neve through the maze of people to the bar. The barkeep is a pretty elven woman with bright red hair, she handles some orders before turning her attention to them.

"What can I get for you?" she asks. Her accent is smooth, Trade with an Orlesian tilt.

Neve keeps her voice low, buried beneath the noise of the bar. "Here to meet an old mate from Denerim."

"'Course you are. Take a seat over there," the woman says, gesturing at a conspicuously empty table. "Might be a while, want something while you wait?"

"Whatever's most popular," Camina says, sliding a few coins across the counter. She's overpaying a bit, but she learned this trick from Varric: always keep the barkeep happy in a place like this.

The woman winks and hands over two cups of what smells like cheap ale. "Good evening to you."

Camina and Neve settle down at the table. It's strange it's been left empty despite how busy it is in here, but places have rhythms, and they don't know enough about Jader to guess what they've stumbled into. Somewhere out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lucanis in the crowd. She does her best not to look his way.

They sit for a long, long while. The crowd around them ebbs and flows, getting rowdier as the evening drags on. Someone bumps into their table, Camina doesn't get a good look at their face, too concerned with trying to keep her drink from toppling to the ground, but as they disappear in the crowd, there is a scrap of paper left behind, folded like a bird.

"What's this?"Neve asks, snatching the note and opening it in her lap. She frowns. "It says 'Walk where it smells like fish'."

Camina sighs. "Time to go?"

"Guess so."

Only once they get out on the street does Camina dare speak. "A place that smells like fish? That'd be the docks, right?"

"A fishmonger row, perhaps?" Neve asks.

They don't bother waiting for Lucanis, knowing he'll be happier following from a distance instead. They retrace their steps along the main thoroughfare back towards the docks, able to keep an eye out for the crowds to direct them to the market. The market itself is packed with people; it's difficult to move, and Camina has to stay behind Neve's much taller frame as they move in single file through between the stalls.

"Hey! You want a sample?" A young boy in a pair of dirty overalls beside a fish stall grabs her sleeve. Camina immediately pulls her hand back, but not before he slips something into her pocket with a quick nod. She passes it to Neve, who leads them to a somewhat less busy area of the market, where they can at least stand without being jostled.

"It says 'Nearly there, find Andraste's shiny tit, then look up'," Neve reads before tucking the note away.

"Andraste's shiny tit? Really?" Camina asks, unable to repress a snort.

Normally, Neve's just as good for a joke, but not when she's on a case; she ignores her. "Isn't Jader the birthplace of Andraste?" Neve asks.

Camina nods. "So they claim. Pretty popular claim. I've been to at least three Andraste birthplaces. Wild to think she'd be born so many times! Maybe if we're lucky, there's a commemorative mug to buy by the tit."

Neve rolls her eyes. "Okay. Is there a statue here of her? A metal one, perhaps?"

"I don't know, didn't exactly spend time looking for a place to pray last time I was here."

Neve grins. "But you'd remember a shiny tit, right?"

She laughs, thrilled that Neve is finally playing along. "Absolutely. My favorite tits are the shiny ones."

"Are you going to be content now that I set you up for the joke?" Neve asks as they walk out of the market.

Camina is satisfied. "Sure. Should we head for the Chantry?"

"Seems as good an idea as any. This is a lot of run around for a simple meeting."

Camina shrugs. "Maybe. I mean, they're clearly keeping an eye on us. Maybe they just want to know we're serious?"

"Or they're leading us on a wild goose chase for nothing," Neve replies.

"That too."

It's a relief to walk the streets after how crowded the market had been. Making their way to the Chantry is easy enough; it towers over everything else in the city, and as they approach, there is a metal statue of Andraste…with one tit out.

"Well, that can't be comfortable," Camina says. "The note said to look up?"

And they do, glancing around the nearby rooftops illuminated in the orange and pinks of the sunset, there's a single red ribbon billowing in the breeze on the nearest one. "There," Neve points it out.

The building itself is clearly closed up for the evening, seems to be a shop of some kind. Neve suggests that they head back behind the building to scale it, and Camina resists complaining about the fact that no one ever wants to just meet at street level. Luckily for them, there's a ladder simply waiting. Convenient. Perhaps too much so. Still, she scales it ahead of Neve.

When they arrive, the rooftop is empty beyond the single ribbon. "Maybe there's something on it," she says, stepping up to the metal grate it's tied to.

Neve seems annoyed. "There better be because I don't see anything else."

As they try to reach the ribbon, there's a sound of someone blowing a raspberry behind them. They whirl around to find themselves being regarded by a waifish elven woman with a bow strapped to her back. Her blonde hair is cut short, the bangs entirely uneven, and she wears a truly baffling combination of prints and patterns.

"You're slow," she says.

"I'm sorry?" Camina replies.

The woman unfolds herself from her perch on the ledge of the building. ""Could’ve been slow and stupid, yeah? But nah. Small mercies. You're the detectivey one, right?"

Neve folds her arms. "I am."

"And you're the Rook?"

Camina nods.

The woman looks around with a frown. ""Oi, tell your stabby Crow to pop out. We’re not whispering secret-like. Friends, yeah? Supposed to be."

She doesn't have to say anything; Lucanis appears on the next building over, having somehow stayed entirely hidden from her view. He makes his way gracefully over to them, sketches a bow in the direction of the woman.

"Red Jenny, I presume?"

The woman rolls her eyes. "Name's Sera."

Camina grins; she knows that name. "Tell me you stole someone's pants on the way here."

Sera tilts her head before giving them all a real smile. "So you are Varric's Rook! Come on, let's talk somewhere less…roofy."

***

Sera moves with more grace than Lucanis would expect outside the Crows. They follow her through tight back alleyways that seem to turn and twist on themselves before she leads them through a door tucked halfway down a narrow street. Inside is a hidden bar, not busy but filled with people who all do a very good job at not noticing their entrance, which tells Lucanis that every last one of them is paying very special attention to them. He doesn't like this; it feels like a trap, but this person, this Sera, knew Varric, knows Dorian. And that means she knew Harding, too.

Spite keeps a rotating watch of the room, eyes narrowed. "Look like normal people, but they're armed and ready. Not a bar but a den."

He can't say he's surprised. No matter how highly recommended, he'd want to take a meeting surrounded by his own people, too. Sera stops at a table, gestures for them to sit down, but her attention never quite leaves him. He gets the feeling she doesn't like him, so he decides to keep quiet.

She pulls up her own chair. "So, you all knew Varric?"

Neve and Camina nod. He stays silent.

"I traveled with him and Harding on their search for Solas," Camina says. "We hired Neve in Minrathous right before…"

"Everything went tits up?"

Camina flinches a little. "Yeah."

"Dorian said you needed some help, and Mr. 'I'm the all-powerful Archon now' promised me he'd owe me a favor if I helped," Sera says. Her voice is lilted, and her mocking of Dorian's accent is as bad as it is funny.

"We'd appreciate that. Your note said you had a friend who might help us answer some questions about dwarven magic," Neve presses.

Sera shrugs. "Maybe. Depends on why you're asking."

"You were friends with Harding, too, weren't you?" Camina asks. "During the Inquisition?"

Sera looks somewhat uncomfortable. "Got loads of friends, yeah? Harding was good people. Looked out for folks. Always up for a laugh. Glad she went off with Varric… ‘cept now they’re both gone, so… yeah."

"We couldn't ever find Harding's body, but she had special powers…Titan powers. It connected her to another dwarf, a woman who used to be Shaper Valta."

Sera glares at them, shaking her head. "I didn't like it down there; there was too much sky."

Confusion is clear on Neve's face. "You were there? With the Inquisitor?"

"She wanted to stay; Inky tried to tell her no…but she wanted it," Sera says, words whisper soft, laced with horror. Then abruptly she shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about that anymore."

Neve looks frustrated, but Camina is gentle. "It's okay, we don't have to. I only bring it up because Harding could hear others…through her magic. We hoped that maybe…others could hear her. Maybe tell us if…she's still….out there."

"How'd you be able to tell if they could?"

"We're hoping just by asking them."

Sera seems to consider that. "That's it then? That's all you want?"

"Yes."

Sera's jovial mood has muted somewhat, but she gestures for someone to join them. A dwarven woman with red-brown hair approaches the table, sits boldly in Sera's lap. That's when Lucanis notices the matching rings on their hands.

"Hi! I'm Dagna! You must be Rook!"

Camina nods. "Nice to meet you. These are my friends Neve and Lucanis."

Dagna's eyes light up when she sees him. "You’re the abomination! Brilliant. I have—hang on, let me count—at least fourteen questions for you."

Spite flinches, visibly. "No."

Her enthusiasm is both off-putting and concerning, but he manages a smile and hopes Spite doesn't throw too much of a fit. "And I'd be happy to answer them if you'd help us out with ours."

Dagna nods. "Of course! But um…well, I'm maybe not who you want to talk to."

Neve's brow furrows. "You're not?"

Dagna sighs. "Pfft. I wish. I didn't get cool stone magic. I was hopeful that I would, especially after Harding wrote and we met a few others, too. But now their magic is disappearing-"

"What do you mean their magic is disappearing?" Camina asks.

Dagna covers her mouth. "I maybe shouldn't have mentioned that part."

Sera shakes her head. "Things are weird, yeah? Get cool magic, get connection…then it goes away. Makes them feel…incomplete. We'll take you to them, but maybe not all of you. Might be too much new. Too much weird."

Everything Sera says feels like it comes out in a roundabout way. So they've got a contact, but they don't want to take all of them there?

Camina nods. "That sounds reasonable. This is Neve's case, so you should take her."

Neve shakes her head. "Go on, Rook. You're the one everyone knows."

Sera shrugs. "Talk it over, whatever. Crow’s not coming. Got limits on how many knives I can dodge."

He grins; he only has one knife visible. "What knives?"

Sera looks unimpressed. "Too many damn Crows lately."

"You've had dealings recently with the Crows?" Neve asks archly.

Dagna nods. "Yeah, there was this information broker we worked with in Cumberland…he swore up and down he wasn't a Crow…but…"

"He was. It's in the footwork. And where you hide your knives."

Lucanis frowns. He doesn't know of any Crow contacts in Cumberland…most Nevarran contracts tend to be in Nevarra City. He'll have to ask Teia about it next time he sees her. He wants to ask more questions, but he suspects he won't get any real answers anyway.

Sera leans forward. "So, who'll it be? Fancy detective or big special hero?"

"Big special hero," Neve answers before looking at Camina. "Take notes."

Camina looks like she wants to argue, but instead nods. "Will do."

"Works. Come with me. You two stay here. Try not to start anything while we're gone, yeah?"

Neve gives them a winning smile. "We'll be on our best behavior."

Lucanis would feel better tailing them, but Camina can handle herself, and it's clear there's some history there with their connections to Varric and Harding. He trusts these contacts even if he's pretty sure it's not mutual. He watches Camina until the door closes, leaving him and Neve surrounded by strangers.

"I'm surprised you didn't want to go," he says.

Neve sighs. "It's not that I didn't…it's just that…well. I'm not too proud to admit when someone's better at something than I am."

"What are you talking about?"

"You heard them, their contact no longer has their magic…that's….they need a more empathetic ear. Maybe someone better at feelings. I worry that I've been chasing this down so long that I'm not sure I won't push too hard," Neve says.

Camina is good in delicate situations, it's true. But he's seen Neve be just as kind. "I think you're selling yourself a little short. Did something happen?"

Neve shakes her head.

He takes a chance. "Is this about Claudia?"

"Don't you start."

He raises his hands. "What? I'm just asking. You're living together; that seems serious."

"It's…complicated."

"How?"

Neve doesn't look at him, instead runs her fingers against the wood grain of the table. "She's not going to stay in Minrathous forever."

"She's been in Minrathous for a while…and so what if she doesn't. The eluvians make travel easy, it's-"

"People don't stick around. Not in Dock Town."

Maybe that's what's going on here. Or maybe Neve is just scared, the same way he was when he realized the enormity of what he felt for Camina. He remembers an afternoon in Neve's office, her gentle prodding. "'The world’s a terrible and unfair place filled with terrible and unfair people. We find what happiness and peace we can, and we hold onto it.'”

Neve's eyes narrow. "You did threaten to parrot that back to me, didn't you?"

"I did, but I thought you were smarter than me and that you wouldn't need it," he replies with a smile.

She chuckles, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, flattery? That's going to go a lot better than the interrogation."

He laughs then, too. "No interrogation from me. I just want to see you happy."

Neve's smile is a little fragile. "I wish it were that simple."

***

"You know, wasn't sure about you when I first heard things," Sera says as they walk along the slowly darkening streets. The sun is properly setting now, but the city is still bright, still lively under the brightness of the moons.

"What things?" Camina asks.

"Crossroads things. Letting Solas live things."

"You wanted Solas dead? Wasn't he your friend?"

Sera makes a frustrated sound. "We weren't ever friends. Not when it's all built on lies in the first place. He always knew more than he said, looked at me like…doesn't matter. But then he killed Varric, and you were his friend, too. You didn't kill him, why?"

She hasn't been asked this directly by anyone. She'd expected more pushback, especially from her team, but then, many of them saw what she did. Her and the Inquisitor's pleading, it not mattering…not until Mythal had her say. And what had Varric been fighting for? His friend, sure, but to keep the world intact, too. And Solas had been willing, and she'd let him go.

Camina picks her words carefully. "He helped us…in the end. And people who knew him better, the Inquisitor…Harding…Varric…they didn't want him dead." She's not sure if it's a good thing or not, invoking the names of two dead friends who died either directly or indirectly at Solas's hands…but it's the truth.

Dagna chirps up then. "Well, we didn't really want him dead either…mostly."

Camina changes the subject. "And the Crossroads?"

"Don't use them if I can avoid it. Worried about what would happen when you gave them to the Veil Jumpers. Giving power to people usually just makes them want to punch down, but they're really trying to make things better. Elfy or not."

Camina shrugs. "It's not perfect. And you don't use them?"

Sera shakes her head. "Got friends who do. Fine enough for me. Been in the Fade enough. We stay busy enough as is. Supply routes are still fucked, and people come into the city every day, starving, looking for better."

She listens while Sera and Dagna tell her of the refugees still arriving from far-flung places in Ferelden and Orlais, the towns and cities in the south still choked with blight, not quite important or strategic enough to clear yet, unlike Denerim and Skyhold. She gathers that they spend a lot of their time helping the little people, the ones left behind or who fall through the cracks. It's a bleak reminder that the blight might be over, but the effects are not. That perhaps they'll be felt for years and years and years-

They pause outside a small, stone house. They've walked to the outskirts of Jader, where the city turns more forested and wild, the houses farther apart. It's peaceful this evening, only a few people milling about, heading home for the evening.

Sera nods to Dagna. "He agreed to a chat, but it's painful, yeah? You seem nice, but keep nice."

"I promise," Camina says.

Dagna knocks on the door, and they're greeted by an older dwarven woman, her face tight. She greets Dagna and Sera warmly, though, glancing at her with suspicion. "A new friend of ours, Rook, this is Helena."

Camina doesn't miss the subtle name drop or the way the woman's eyes widen. Camina offers a wave. "Nice to meet you."

Helena nods, opening the door wide. "Art's in his room."

"Thank you," Dagna says, and Camina follows them through the small cottage to a room with a closed door.

Dagna knocks only once before entering, cheerfully calling hello as she beckons them in. Inside the sparse room lies a dwarven boy. He can't be older than twenty. He lies in his bed, fully dressed, eyes glassy.

"Art! We brought someone you might want to meet. This is Rook! She's here with some questions about your powers. Is that alright?" Dagna asks. She pulls out a chair, gestures for Camina to take a seat while she busies herself lighting the nearby candles. Sera hangs at the door, leaning against it and watching the entire exchange with sharp eyes.

Art doesn't reply, barely makes any indication he's heard Dagna at all. Camina glances at Dagna with concern, but Dagna simply waves her hands forward, encouraging her. Camina wonders helplessly if all of this has been a mistake. She tries anyway. "Hello Art. It's nice to meet you."

Nothing.

She tries again. "Your friends tell me that you're a bit like my friend, Harding. She had stone powers, too."

Art's eyes remain unfocused, glassy. As though she's not there at all.

"My friend called the magic, Isatunoll. Is that…familiar to you?"

A sharp intake of breath. Art reacts to that, finally looking at her. "Isatunoll."

She nods. "Yeah. My friend was so confused when those powers found her, but she could hear voices…a connection - the eternal hymn."

Art nods. "It is so quiet now; I miss the song." Tears well in his eyes, run over and into his hair.

"When did you stop hearing it?"

Art's eyes close for a moment. "Time…feels slippery. Weeks? Months?"

"A couple months," Dagna offers.

Art nods. "So long without it. It hurts. It hurts."

"I'm so sorry, Art," Camina says. "My friend…she could hear others like her….someone named Valta. Did you hear anyone else in the song?"

He shakes his head, and Camina's heart sinks. "Not others, but I knew I wasn't alone. Could feel that I was one…of a larger whole."

She supposes that makes sense, or enough sense anyway. The dwarves used to be connected. And now that Art is without that connection…she wonders what's happened to it. Why it's different. What changed two months ago? It doesn't make sense.

"Did you ever feel anything in the song? Anything strange? A change? A loss…?" She's grasping at straws here; she can feel it, the desperation in her voice.

She can see Sera shifting impatiently out of the corner of her eye. If she presses Art too far, she knows they'll cut her off; she needs to make every question count.

Art nods, but his discomfort is clear. "Yes, it…diminished before it severed."

"Diminished how? When?"

"I don't know….it was simply less. I didn't notice until I noticed…and then the song was gone," Art sobs, body shaking with the force of his grief.

Dagna places a hand on Art's shoulder, moving between Camina and him. "That's enough for today, I think. You've been so helpful, Art."

Only now she has only has more questions, but she nods in his direction. "Thank you, Art."

She stands, and Sera opens the door; it's clear Dagna will be staying for a bit. She's almost over the threshold when Art sits up; it's the most energy she's seen from him through the entire conversation. He reaches a hand out to her. "There was a name. Shouted over and over. A plea. A warning."

She turns back. "A name? What name?"

Art's tear-stained face stares at her like he's seeing her for the first time. "Yours."

[slothquisitor]

First week of school Layla Cling level: mother cannot use the bathroom alone.

[slothquisitor]

Some people wanted to see art of my Rook and Lucanis, and I happened to also want to draw them 💜

[slothquisitor]

This is the sort of student energy I constantly relate to.

[slothquisitor]

hello, darling~

[slothquisitor]

A Dream of Teeth

gouache, 3.5"x5.5"

a little painting, for a little fic

She holds him trammelled with one small hand. Her other arm is insubstantial below the elbow, not quite gone here in the Fade but still not whole. She always was stronger than he assumed, and her trials and his manipulations have honed her to a killing edge. He was a fool to approach her. He cannot retreat.

[slothquisitor]

Year 13, lezgo.

[slothquisitor]

sera my bee-loved

[slothquisitor]

Finding out that Spite calms down when Rook reads to him, really helped out with Lucanis' sleep

[slothquisitor]

Dragon Age Kiss Week Day 6: Reunion (and also Day 3 because Fade, too?) This might be Part 2 of my Fade Prison related artwork!

My thinking here is that the statues on the Fade would be interesting if they weren't static, if that instead they were pulling Rook back to drown her further into her regrets. Bsky version

[slothquisitor]

It’s Sophomore Day. We have ten minute classes, so I’m running speed d&d with the kids fighting our rival school’s mascot.

We’re having a great time.

[slothquisitor]

I LOVE this.

Letting your homiecrush in homicide do/play with your hair (because she asked extra nicely and because knives ⚔️) so you can match because sharing is caring 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💜💜

[slothquisitor]

How’s the new school year prep going?

Well, because I live in America, this year it includes an immersive active shooter drill complete with police officers firing blanks in the hallway outside my classroom, banging on my door, and me sitting in the dark for an hour and a half.

I get to be here all evening for back to school night too. So that’s fun.