#(but that's not related to what happened to us this week)

[thefaithfulnightwriter]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ~ Chapter One

Summary - 𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 Azriel's mate is banished to another world by Amarantha. To a world she never knew existed. To a different world called Zenithara. She finds herself being stuck in Zenithara for many years. And as more time passes it leads her to giving up hope to ever get back to her family, her mate. It changes her living in such a world. She never once felt safe in Zenithara. But one day when she is given a mask. She finds herself feeling safe and concealed from the world. It gave her a sense of strength and power. Which leads her to persevere in the new world she was in.

But what will happen when she finds herself being sent back to her old world Prythian, to her home in Velaris? What will happen when she is finally reunited with her family… her mate?

Pairing - Azriel x Female!Oc

Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Warnings -  Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Gore, Death, Semi Smut, Violence, Language, Weapons, Mention of Past Abuse, Mention of War, Things Will Be Changed, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds, Scars, Experimentation, More Will Be Added If Needed.

Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. I also got some inspiration from some movies and tv shows. So if you see anything familiar.  But i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.

Author's Note - i really hope you like this fic. i gotta say this fic is very challenging for me because of the world building around it and what not. but i do love it. i hope you guys do too. that is all i can think to say lol.

─── Zenithara ───

─── Sky City ───

Gleaming lights were now in the night sky. A plethora of luminous lights is what Annamarie's gaze was on. She was watching the world outside of the large window beside her. Lights of all kinds down below and surrounding her. 

She could also see vast ships and smaller ships flying around in the night sky. In the sky of Zenithara around the 1st Sector also known as the Sky City. 

Sky City being located in the sky on a vast floating island. Anna never understood how the Sky City came to be. She was never good at retaining Zenithara's history. It never interested her or grabbed her attention. And ultimately she never cared for it.

Right now though she was watching the lights shimmer and the ships fly. Lights of different colors flashing and glowing. The ships of all sorts transporting goods and people to locations. 

She couldn't deny it was a beautiful sight. But it could be a bit overwhelming at times. As time passed though and the longer she stayed in Sky City she had gotten used to it. It has been a few years since Anna has been in Sky City now. And it was an amazing city but it wasn't her favorite Sector.  

Middle Ground, the 2nd Sector was her favorite. It was where her favorite home was. Well one of the three homes that she made in Zenithara, in the 3 Sectors. The homes that were just buildings she stayed in. It would never be her true home. Zenithara would never be Anna's true home. Her home is and always would be her old world. 

A place called Pyrthian, in Velaris. Where everyone she loved was, her true family… and her mate. They were somewhere she couldn't reach. No matter what Anna did she couldn't reach them. It seemed like they were worlds away. Well they were worlds away from Anna’s knowledge. Or more like Anna was worlds away being banished from Prythian.

Anna still remembers somewhat. She remembers bits and pieces of the days, weeks, and months that led up to her banishment. 

She was in Pyrthian. In a place called Under the Mountain. A place ruled by a cruel female named Amarantha. There was a masquerade ball that Anna had attended as emissary of the Night Court. Her being a part of the Night Court's inner circle. 

Being she was the emissary and it was an event to gain relations. Anna had to go. At the time she was attending the ball with her High Lord Rhysand. More so best friend or brother in her eyes. The event was pleasant… until it wasn't.

Amarantha the host had used the ball to her advantage. To execute her plan. A plan that was successful. A plan to steal a part of all seven of the High Lords powers. To get all seven High Lords of Prythian to submit to her. 

Which Amarantha had achieved. She was able to take part of the High Lords powers and keep them submitted to her. And she soon became the new ruler of Prythian. With her ruling it caused a darkness to wash over Prythian. Amarantha truly was a cruel ruler. She killed and torture innocent people. She abused people for fun. She took advantage of many and abused her power without care. 

Amarantha also liked to play with people and use them as puppets.The ones who she used most as her puppets were Anna and Rhysand. She seemed to get the most satisfaction with playing with the two of them. 

But Amarantha liked treating Anna cruelly the most. It was because of how close she was with Rhysand. All the Courts knew how much Rhysand cared for Anna. She was like a sister to him. Everyone knew because they had witnessed their brotherly sisterly bond at meetings and events. Being the two were High Lord and emissary to the Night Court they had to attend such events together.

So many saw their interaction, and saw how much they cared for each other. Even when they hid their true selves from everyone. They couldn't hide the care they had for one another though. They were truly best friends.

Having heard such information, Amarantha used that knowledge and their bond to her benefit. To control Rhysand, which worked on more than one occasion. She would beat Anna black and blue. She would make Anna work as her servant. She would torture her with magic and much more. Anna took such treatment with her head held high. She stayed strong for her Court, her home, her family, for Rhysand, and her mate. 

Even after a year Anna was still strong... mentally. Physically though Anna was weak. Her body and magic were weak. But she kept her head high. Anna knew she had to be and stay strong. Because if she didn't... Anna knew that the first time she'd let her head fall she would go into a downward spiral. She would break. 

Anna wasn't going to let that happen. She wasn’t going to let Amarantha get that satisfaction. And she wasn't going to leave Rhysand on his own. She wasn't going to let him shoulder all the weight by himself. Because she knew he had a lot of weight on his shoulders. 

But while they were Under the Mountain he didn’t tell Anna what he did or what happened to him. But Anna was always there for him and would let him lean on her. Much like he would let her lean on him. The two never really talked about what they did or what happened to them while Under the Mountain. But they did hold each other. 

They would whisper stories and reminisce on memories together. Speaking of their family and trying to keep their memories alive in their mind. So they wouldn't forget them. Rhysand more than once used the little power he had as a daemati to show Anna memories in her mind of their family, and her mate.

Even though a year had passed and they were still Under the Mountain. It felt like eternity for the two. Which they had voiced to each other and agreed it felt like such a long time had passed. But really only one agonising long year had passed. And it was one of those many mornings that they were leaning on one another that they laughed. But it soon was different. 

It was after a moment they laughed and during the early morning hours that Rhysand finally leaned fully on Anna. It was the first time he cried. And not being able to handle the weight, he told Anna everything. Everything that Amarantha had him do, and what she has done to him. Anna held him the whole time as he cried in her arms. 

But when it was time they had to separate and go back to their reality. Anna still couldn't believe what Rhysand had been put through. She couldn't understand why she was being put through such things as well. It caused Anna to be stuck in her head the whole day. Going over what was told to her by Rhysand. Going over everything she has been put through. 

That night was the night Anna burst. It was during a gathering and Anna couldn't take her glaring eyes off of Amarantha. Who sat on her throne with a smug look. Anna was furious. And most of all she was done. She couldn't take it anymore. The treatment. The torture. Everything. She couldn't do it anymore, sit back, watch, and be treated in such a way. And watch her best friend, or brother be treated like he was.

It was when Amarantha tilted her head back and laughed. As she ran her fingers down Rhysand's arm. Anna could now notice him tense. She could tell it was taking everything in him not to grimace at her touch. At that moment she was remembering everything he had told her, and all her own memories. 

It was that moment and that night that everything changed. 

Anna could feel her magic buzzing under her skin. And without realizing what she was doing she was taking steps closer to Amarantha's throne. Her glare never leaving Amarantha’s form. As she stepped closer her anger and adrenaline grew. So did her magic. As she stepped closer many around her could feel her magic and stepped away. Making a part in the crowd.  

Anna could only remember very few words that were said... she remembered seeing Rhysand's face. He had a look of fear. She remembered his muffled yelling. Seeming to be pleading with her to calm down. But it was too late. She had let out a powerful burst of magic aimed at Amarantha. Wanting to kill her.

But after letting her powers free Anna had fallen to the floor. The glasses she wore fell from her face. Her light brown skin was pale, more pale than usual. She and Rhysand having lost the glow in their skin since being Under the Mountain. Her whole body was exhausted and she could barely move. Her vision was more blurry as usual without her glasses. But what made her fearful was she began seeing black dots. 

Blinking, she tried clearing her vision quickly. Soon she was able to reach and find her glasses. Reaching for her glasses as she hunched over she was trying to get up. She was almost able to sit up when she felt a hand wrap around her throat. Then nails digging into her skin. She knew instantly who it was, Amarantha. 

Looking at her Anna could see her with a snarl upon her face. She had cuts on her face, her hair was disheveled, and her dress now had tears in it. What scared Anna the most was the rage that was in Amarantha's eyes. Not being able to see such rage she looked away.

As she did Anna was met with the room in shambles. What caught her attention instantly was Rhysand. He looked to be unscathed but he was now being held back by many guards. He had tears in his eyes and he seemed to be yelling. Looking in his violet eyes with her dark brown eyes Anna sent him a small reassuring but meaningful smile. As she saw him struggle more. Because Rhysand and her knew that this was it for her. 

Thinking of her demise, tears fell from her eyes. Because the first person to come to mind instantly was her mate… Azriel. The one she missed so much. The one she kept fighting for. The one she wished she could be in the arms of every night and every day. But she knew now it was never going to happen. It filled her with regret. She knew she shouldn’t have exploded but she just couldn’t help it. But now she was sad and angry at herself. But she was quick to shake the feelings away. 

Quickly for the first time in a year she found herself opening that golden tether that connected their souls fully. An accepted mating bond between them. A bond that they cherished and held close to their hearts. As she opened the bond, the first emotions she felt were confusion, love, and urgency. It was all Azriel's emotions. She then felt a tug on the golden tether. A tug she knew was his way to tell her to tug back so he could follow it. So the bond could lead him to her. 

"I love you so much," she whispered to him. She remembered saying in her head at that moment. She knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her. So she then sent all the love she could to him. Sending every bit she could. So much that she knew it may have overwhelmed him. 

Which it did, it brought him to his knees when he felt her love. The love he knew she had for him. The love he knew she held back from him. So she didn’t overwhelm him. It was a feeling that felt like a fierce wind had crashed into him. But after a moment of gaining control he felt like he was soaring up to the clouds close to the night sky above. Close to the stars that shined so bright. It was a feeling he gained while flying and he loved it. He had never felt it in such a way. And he wanted more. It made him want to go to his mate and have her in his arms even more.

Though Anna knew she may have overwhelmed him she didn't care; she wanted him to feel all her love that she felt for him. She wanted him to know at least one more time. And at that moment she was grabbed hard by the hair by Amarantha. Making Anna look at her. Anna was quick to steel herself. Not showing any fear. Not saying a single word. It was then that she heard the last Amarantha said. 

"Hm, killing you would be too easy. I'm going to do something much worse. I know how much you love Pyrthian, your family. So I'm going to send you far far away. Say goodbye to Pyrthian. Say goodbye to Rhysand. Say goodbye to everything you've ever known. Enjoy your banishment Annamarie Emissary of Night Court," Amarantha smirked at her. 

Hearing her words struck fear in Anna as her eyes widened. 

The last she saw was Amarantha's smirk upon her face, then she waved her hand. The last thing Anna remembered hearing was Rhysand screaming her name. As he tried to fight to get to her. A scream that haunts her till this day. Then the loud noise that sounded like the snapping of a whip and thunder behind her. 

She was then being pushed back by Amarantha. And then she saw a bright white light, and soon darkness engulfed her vision. She remembers falling harshly on the ground, then fainting after that. When Anna opened her eyes she was in another unknown world. A world she knew nothing about. A world she didn’t know even existed. The world of Zenithara.

"Hey Auntie Goldie, we got a mission to stop a load from reaching the Abyss, the Arena. You up for it?" 

Anna heard a deep male voice question her. A few steps from the side of the table she sat at in her room at headquarters. She knew that voice. It belonged to Evan. Turning she was met with a handsome well built, tan skinned man, with dark short wavy hair, and crystal blue eyes.  

Evan was a leader. But Evan also was Anna's nephew. They weren't related but she earned the respect and title. Having been in his family for years now. Evan was one of the few she has gone on many missions with in the past couple years. While she worked with G.H.O.S.T. meaning Guardian Heroes of Sector Three. 

A group of people who work with the justice system of Zenithara to clean up Sector Three, the Abyss. And sometimes Sector One and Two. But mainly the Abyss being it was the worst Sector of Zenithara. The worst of them all. The Abyss, the worst Sector, was located in the center of the planet of Zenithara. And the home of many criminals and horrible people. 

It was also where a place called the Arena was located. The Arena was a notorious horrendous place. It was a prison of sorts for all the Sectors. Filled with many horrid people. People who have committed horrible crimes. 

The Arena was a dark complicated place. It was never ending and had different levels to it. There were the holding areas where people are placed in holding cells. Then the judging area, where people were judged. People were then subjected to being experimented on. The worse the crime the longer the person is put through such treatment. Some people even end up dead from the experiments. 

But there were some who ended up with abilities. The abilities ranged from little things like enhanced hearing, enhanced sight, intelligence. Then there were some with dangerous abilities. Such as being able to control fire, the air, or enhanced strength. There were many powers and abilities that were given to people.  

But after such people survived the experiments, they soon had a collar placed around their neck. That would locate, read their body signatures, and electrocute them if need be. The collar being controlled by the Overseers. Overseers being the ones who controlled the Arena and observed everything that happened in it.   

Many groups of people were then placed in a very huge vast dark run down Arena with a dome. Ten people in each group and five groups were placed in different parts of the Arena. And soon the Killer games commenced. It was kill or be killed in the Arena. Every day these people have to fight for their lives while being watched by the Overseers. 

Once you were in the Arena there was now way out... unless you were the last one standing in the Arena. Once you win the Killer games you are taken out. Then placed in a living area for about a year then you had to go back to the Arena. 

Nobody knew these things about the Arena. Only hearing little rumors. The only one to know the most was Anna. She was the only living person to ever fully leave the Arena. After being in the Arena many times. 

The first many years of Anna's life in Zenithara was spent in the Arena. Being that the portal Amarantha pushed her through led her to land in the Arena. And it wasn't pretty those first years had changed Anna. She thought being Under the Mountain was horrible. The Arena was a true nightmare for her. 

But the last years were bearable once she met a certain blonde Overseer named Katrina. The Overseer was the one to change Anna's life. Along with another contestant. It took her years to escape the Arena completely with their help. The Overseer having been killed while saving Anna and the contestant's lives while they escaped. Which Anna was and would be grateful for. Never forgetting her. 

The contestant’s name who escaped with Anna was Evangelina, Eva for short. While in the Arena Eva and Anna stuck together. Helping each other. Eva helped with her high intelligence she got from experimentation. While Anna was the fighter. Anna having her fae magic enhanced after experiments were done on her amongst other things. 

The two grew close as sisters and were unstoppable. The two grew even closer when Anna found out that Eva was in the Arena because she was framed for a crime she didn’t commit. Anna believed her. She could tell Eva was innocent. And Anna wanted Eva to keep that innocence. Which was why Anna protected Eva and did most of the killing while in the Arena. While Eva did more of the thinking.

But when Anna and Eva were able to escape with the help of Katrina, they brought all their knowledge to the justice system. But there was only so much the justice system could do. Which led Anna and Eva wanting to help clean up Sector Three and take things into their own hands. They were soon telling the people in charge of the justice system. And in doing so the justice system gave them permission to create G.H.O.S.T. Which was very successful, and still running strong after many years. 

That is where Evan the II came in. He was Eva's grandson who took over G.H.O.S.T. after his father. Anna still helped the organization but slowed down over the past years. Having been in a state of grief after the passing of Eva. It took a toll on Anna losing Eva. Watching her grow old while she stayed the same. But Anna stayed by Eva until her last breath. Taking care of her and her family. 

Some time after the loss of Eva, and Anna having nothing better to do, but get stuck in her mind. Thinking about all she has lost. Pythain, her family, her mate, Katrina, then Eva. As an immortal Anna thought she better do something with her life. So she started helping Evan more and more over the years. Which he greatly appreciated her help. 

But looking at him now it reminded her of Eva. Which caused a wave of sadness to wash over her. Yes, he had blue eyes he got from his mother. But he had Eva's features, he then had her hair, and tan skin. Much like his father Eva's son. Who looked exactly like Eva, his mother. He was hard to look at at times. Bringing memories of Eva to her mind. But Anna pulled through like she always did. But right now a soft sad sigh escaped Anna's lips as she looked at him. 

Evan was quick to send her a smile as he sat next to her. Which caused Anna to turn to the window. Before he spoke again after receiving a nod to his question. Which was Anna agreeing to go on the mission with him and his team.          

"I got some entail that says that the load is leaving on a ship some time before dawn. When the lights dim. They'll be using passage A tryin' to get to the Arena from above," Evan explained to her. Taking in the information Anna pushed her glasses over her scared nose.

Part of three thick lined scars taking over her face. Starting from her temple on the side going across her face, and ending at the other side of her jaw. A scar from her years in the Arena by a person able to shift into a creature.

"Okay," Anna whispered with a nod to Evan. Her voice was soft and never above a soft whisper. Being that she never really talked anymore. Her voice left her more and more over the years. Because she didn't feel the need to talk much. The only ones she talked to were Evan and his father. Having nobody else who would listen and never wanting to talk to anyone else.

"Alright wanna relax for a lil then gear up together when it's close to time for the mission?" Evan asked Anna with a smile. Looking away from the window again and turning her gaze to Evan she smiled with a nod. She enjoyed spending time with Evan. He always knew how to get her mind off things. And from the little memories she could remember Evan reminded her a lot of Cassian with his antics. 

"Awesome! Come on then Auntie Gold," Evan chuckled playfully with a wide smile. Before slowly reaching a hand to Anna for her to take. A soft giggle left Anna's lips as she took his hand. Letting him help her up. 

A smile washed over her. She was happy to spend time with her nephew. Who was now rambling on about his day. Which she caused her to laugh softly when he made big hand gestures, speaking with his hands. She was happy to have Evan in her life and also his father. They helped with the loneliness and lost feeling she felt while being in Zenithara. 

But little did Anna something was going to happen on this mission. Something that was going to change everything for her.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

How does time work on Gallifrey? What do their calendars look like, is it like ours 365 days and 12 months?

How does time work on Gallifrey?

Gallifreyan time is as complicated as you think it is, and it can be a bit mind-bending to wrap your head around, especially if you're used to the conventional flow of time that Earthlings experience.

⏳Inner Time

One of the first things to know is that Gallifrey exists in a time state known as Inner Time or Gallifreyan Absolute Time—a realm "outside" of regular Universal time, separated by powerful barriers and advanced technology. Essentially, Gallifrey's history and continuity are protected and separate from the rest of the universe's flow of time. This means that any events or disasters etc. that affect the wider Universe's flow of time will not affect Gallifrey - it will always flow at its own pace.

However, just to confuse you, Inner Time flows about 5 times faster than normal time in the universe, and it's actually been slowing down by about 1 second every hour, so the time difference isn't as dramatic as it used to be. This means Gallifrey's time is slowing down to sync up with Earth's time (but very, very slowly).

📅Gallifreyan Time Systems

There are several methods for keeping track of time on Gallifrey, and the most prominent ones are:

Gallifreyan Absolute Time (Local Dateline): Gallifreyan timekeeping began with the installation of the Eye of Harmony in the Citadel, marking the start of the Rassilon Era (RE). This system measures time from the perspective of those living within Inner Time on Gallifrey. Dates are written with the suffix 'RE' (Rassilon Era), and they can get quite long, so they can be reduced to a five-digit format (e.g., 5725.2 RE). So, for example, the Doctor's loom date could be recorded as 2004716.44 RE, or 4716.4 RE (sources vary).

Date Index/Gallifreyan Mean Time: This system uses a Date Index format, like 3-0-9-9-0-6 or an abbreviated two-digit version (like 92). It tracks Inner Time, but this system doesn’t seem to be used much outside Gallifrey, possibly reserved for more scientific purposes.

Gallifreyan TL Dating System: Possibly a Time Lord exclusive, this tracks time on Gallifrey from around 100,447 years before the Doctor's birth. Quite what happened on this date to start a brand new calendar is a bit of a mystery, but it could possibly be related to the Gallifreyan Civil War or the creation of the first of the Newblood Houses.

GRT (Gallifreyan Relative Time): This is probably just dates relative to each planet—i.e., how each planet tracks its own time. So when they're discussing the start of the First World War on Earth, it's just 1914 CE or AD, as humans would say.

Relative Date: This system converts GRT into Gallifreyan Absolute Time/Local Dateline. For example, the Eye of Harmony was activated in the year 3.5 billion BC on Earth (so, 0 RE), and Earth's 1999 AD is 3,500,034,139.89 RE. It essentially allows Gallifreyans to compare their time to what’s happening 'outside' in the rest of the universe.

Revised Local Dateline: This system adjusts the Local Dateline to compensate for the gradual slowing of Inner Time. It's used primarily in the Matrix and APC, which rely on accurate time tracking. It's more precise and takes into account the overall slowing of Gallifreyan time.

🗓️ Gallifreyan Calendar and Timekeeping

While Gallifreyan time is more complicated in how it's counted, it does have basic systems that overlap with how Earth measures time.

Gallifreyan Years are around the same length as Earth years (around 350 days), but a year is divided into 13 or 14 months, each roughly 27 days long.

Gallifreyan Days are still 24 hours like Earth days, but they're divided into 18-hour days with 9 hours of daylight and 9 hours of night, for some insane reason. The exact hours change with seasons and geography, so perhaps the length of a day might change throughout the year to give an average of 24 hours.

Weeks are mentioned, but the Doctor finds the concept a bit weird, possibly because Gallifreyan 'weeks' might be more fluid and not as significant as Earth’s seven-day cycle.

🏫 So ...

In summary, Gallifreyan time is a wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey mess of systems and shifts, but it works for them. It's all stupidly complicated and my head hurts.

Related:

📺|🗣️⏲️The Timing of a Time Lord

💬|⏰🎉What are some major Gallifreyan traditions and holidays?: Events through the Gallifreyan calendar.

💬|🗣️✍️How do Time Lords write coordinates?: How coordinates get written and work in TARDISes.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[vidavalor]

Your metas are keeping us all well fed, thank you very much. I have some chocolate tea for you? And homemade vegan cookies if you like.

What do you think about Crowley's "Can I watch?" he could have just said "can I accompany you?" or "do you mind if I tag along" or "I wanna see this"...

Allo, @procrastiel! Ya know, I've never had a chocolate-based tea! I would definitely be down for trying it. Thank you. 💕

In the scene you mentioned, Aziraphale is about to go around the neighborhood to tempt the Whickber Street shopkeepers into coming to The Meeting Ball. The meeting is scheduled for 6:30pm later that day, which is a Thursday. No one is going to want to go to the irritating work thing at this point in the week. Our introverted bookseller knows as well as anyone that half the street is planning on bailing on this thing. He can't have that happen. He has everything riding on this party. Both Crowley and Aziraphale know that Aziraphale is going to have to be persuasive to get these shopkeepers and traders to play ball and that some temptations are in store here.

Crowley is dryly asking if he can watch Aziraphale perform some temptations on the Whickber Street people because of how they use magic-related language euphemistically. He's joking that he would enjoy watching Aziraphale persuading the neighbors to come (heh) to the meeting because of how much he enjoys watching Aziraphale, err... perform temptations.

It's a joke on The Serpent always being down to, as he was eager to do in Lockdown, slither over and watch Aziraphale eat cake, ifyaknowwhatImean. He also, as we know, enjoys watching Aziraphale eat literal food.

The other layer to "can I watch?" is that the word watch means to stand guard and that is also what Crowley is doing while going around the neighborhood with Aziraphale in this scene. With angels and Shax sniffing around the shop, Crowley wants to be sure that no one bothers Aziraphale. R.P. Tyler should consider upgrading his idea of Neighborhood Watch, as he might be a lot happier approaching it the Crowley and Aziraphale way.

The original meaning of watch across several languages was actually in relation to the word wake and being awake. It referred to someone keeping watch, in the military and also on any manned ship, naval or otherwise. So, this is also a subtle sea/fish reference. Watch also originated from the unfortunately (as it is fun to say) obsolete Middle English phrase "wacches of wodnesse", which meant to stay awake throughout the night for "purposes of debauchery."

Crowley is seen in both seasons referring to this and spending time alone together at night a lot to keep their relationship a secret as their nightlife, as in this scene below when he's phrasing what he's saying in a coded way that is for Aziraphale's benefit. It's also part of of the wordplay in nightingales being descriptive of both their word-origin-happy hidden language and their romance as a whole. (Adding to the joke is that they were both, once, knights.)

But there is another word that connects to watch that Crowley and Aziraphale are playing around with in different scenes and that word is wait.

The word wait (and, so, waiting and waiter) comes from the Anglo-French waitier, which actually meant to watch. Phrases like to lie in wait come from this connotation of wait as being to watch with intensity and/or intent.

Crowley and Aziraphale play with watch/wait in a couple of different scenes. In Lockdown, they are also using watch in the sense of a timepiece/the alarm clock alongside the idea of Crowley waiting by bringing drinks and slithering over to watch Aziraphale eat cake. We'll look at Aziraphale using wait in the Marguerite's scene in a second. The joke for them is that the etymology of these linked words is also their own history together. It's this, basically:

In the Job minisode, Crowley waits on Aziraphale by "tempting" him with food on a tray and is pretty clearly getting off on watching Aziraphale eat. The first foray towards sex for them were the parasexual ox ribs in Job's cellar. Half the reason why we rarely see Crowley eat in the series even though various scenes and the book tell us that he does is because the food-is-food-but-food-is-also-sex metaphor means that they are using scenes between Crowley and Aziraphale involving food and drink to tell us about their relationship. The scene at The Ritz in 1.01 is the best example of this:

We learn so much more about them, individually and together, just by coming in on them on Aziraphale's last bite of dessert than we would have if it was structured differently and if Crowley happened to have been eating during this scene.

Aziraphale also plays with watch/wait in the scene at Marguerite's, winning at innuendo forever when he uses the above definitions but then also uses the meaning of wait that is related to allowing time to pass in anticipation of an eventual outcome when suggesting that Crowley wait in the bookshop.

You know, the place that is also euphemistically Aziraphale...

It's also present in the humor of Aziraphale throwing this whole Meeting Ball with Crowley in mind and so having the guy they've been terrified of for ages, whom they worried would be watching too closely and discover them (and who has really known forever) circling around with a tray of temptation tiny dinners, waiting on the entire neighborhood.

If you're theorizing and want to take it one step further into the story as a whole and not only on the level of Crowley and Aziraphale using this language between them?

2.05 is the start of the end of S2 because it is putting the bookshop attack into motion and that plot then carries over from 2.05 into 2.06 and leads to The Final 15. 2.05/2.06 is really like one, long episode. That culminating episode of the story begins with Aziraphale going around and successfully tempting the Whickber Street humans, with different levels of it needed, depending on the level of resistance with which he is met. Crowley goes with him, watching, right?

Now, jump to the much darker, nightmarish end to the season that all of that helps set up...

...where Crowley is quite literally forced to watch as Satan shows up to the business that is the bookshop to wait on and tempt Aziraphale... and then watches through the window as Aziraphale and Crowley temporarily implode.

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 6: Dead Crow Do Not Eat

“Take me with you. I need to work, Rook.” He caught her by the arm. “We have a contract. Use me.” “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to know what happens to people when I use them.” She moved closer, trailing a finger up his arm. He stepped backwards, releasing his hold on her with a groan. “Teia is a bad influence on you. You were never this much of a flirt before. I can’t even have a conversation with you.” “I’ve barely seen Teia in the last year.” Rook placed her hands on her hips. “Did Viago send you to nag at me in his place?” “No. You’re just…not the Fiammetta I remember.” He said and glanced to the side. Rook arched an eyebrow. “You used my name.” “You asked me to.” Her gaze lingered before shifting to the schools of fish in the meditation chamber’s window. “Neve and I are going to Dock Town to meet with the Threads. You can join us.” Her arms fell to her sides. “We leave in ten.”  She leaned in to murmur in his ear as she walked by. “And don’t pretend the change isn’t working in your favor.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: Rook has a busy week, a run-in with an old hookup, and a really, really bad dream.

Word Count: 4.1k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! warnings: blood, graphic depictions of bodily mutilation/murder, dead animals. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Neve’s demeanor softened as the days went on. Unsure if it was duty or guilt driving her, Rook dedicated much of her time to helping out in Dock Town, which incidentally provided a good excuse to avoid Lucanis. Even better, when a letter from Viago arrived requesting assistance in Treviso on several matters, she sent the Demon of Vyrantium in her stead. He could live up to her cousin’s standards. 

Soon, Rook found herself in high demand. Davrin’s invitation for her to train in the Arlathan Forest with him and Assan turned into a much needed reprieve. Later, she accompanied Harding and Taash into the Deep Roads to seek out a better understanding of Lace’s newfound power. Unfortunately, they ended up fighting an animated assembly of rocks and getting vague riddles from an ancient stone.

Wardens Evka and Antoine summoned Rook to inform her of new blight-related developments in the Hossberg Wetlands, but the First Warden cut her visit short. Upon returning to the Lighthouse, Emmrich requested she and Bellara’s company investigating the curiously named “Hand of Glory”, only to find an old colleague abusing the living and the dead. Dejected, he spent the next several days in his chambers, but Rook was able to cheer him up by accompanying him and Manfred on a graveyard stroll. It seemed to, for lack of a better term, lift his spirits. 

Exhausted from her endeavors, Rook returned to the meditation chamber, propping her staff against the wall and depositing her bag next to the wardrobe.

“Don’t tell me you’ve spent so much time away from the Crows that you’ve forgotten to check a room when you enter it, Rook.”

Startled, she looked down to find Lucanis sprawled across the chaise, his arm propped behind his head. He shifted into a sitting position, leaning forward.

“Viago would have a fit if he knew you were taking necromancy lessons.” 

“We lit candles and laid flowers on graves, Lucanis.” She rummaged through her pack, setting aside a few parcels. Gifts for Davrin and Neve. 

“Did you tire of the pantry? Certainly the Lighthouse could conjure you a new dwelling place outside of my chambers.”

He rose to his feet, following her as she wandered around the room. 

“I was checking for those choke points you mentioned.” 

Rook’s hand hovered over Varric’s shaving mirror just as she spotted Lucanis’ reflection. He stood behind her, leaning against a bookcase, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

Fuck. He was getting good at this. Whatever this was.  

“Are we done? I have to be somewhere soon.”

“Take me with you. I need to work, Rook.” He caught her by the arm. “We have a contract. Use me.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to know what happens to people when I use them.” She moved closer, trailing a finger up his arm.

He stepped backwards, releasing his hold on her with a groan. “Teia is a bad influence on you. You were never this much of a flirt before. I can’t even have a conversation with you.”

“I’ve barely seen Teia in the last year.” Rook placed her hands on her hips. “Did Viago send you to nag at me in his place?”

“No. You’re just…not the Fiammetta I remember.” He said and glanced to the side.

Rook arched an eyebrow. “You used my name.”

“You asked me to.”

Her gaze lingered before shifting to the schools of fish in the meditation chamber’s window.

“Neve and I are going to Dock Town to meet with the Threads. You can join us.” Her arms fell to her sides. “We leave in ten.” 

She leaned in to murmur in his ear as she walked by.

“And don’t pretend the change isn’t working in your favor.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Lucanis had always said death was his calling. He just didn’t know Rook would be the cause. 

She was playing with him. He knew she was. What he couldn’t figure out was whether it was a game, a defense mechanism, or a way to get him to lower his guard.

He’d never been intimidated by strong women. After all, the Crows wouldn’t function without them.

“Well-positioned seeds, planted subtly and nurtured over time, grow stronger roots,” Caterina had always said. Few men among their ranks, except Viago, had the patience for that level of foresight or strategy.

But romancing strong women…that was a different story. Rather than serious relationships, Lucanis had fumbled through a few short-term romances and casual encounters in his early twenties. He wasn’t like Illario, who could have a different woman in his bed each night. Better to give up on intimacy altogether. Feelings were risky and falling in love got people killed. Being alone was easier when he could find pleasure in little things - coffee, cooking…killing. If he didn’t keep anyone close, it was one less person to worry about, one less distraction from his work. 

He settled down beside Rook in their booth at the Cobbled Swan, wincing as he drank coffee that might as well have been brewed in piss. 

“So…the Threads and the Shadow Dragons working together.” She said, “how do we feel about that?”

“It’s what’s best for Dock Town.” Neve replied, “I saved their leader, Damas, last week. They have just as much motivation to take out the Venatori as we do - and they owe me one.” 

Rook tensed beside him and Lucanis looked up, following her gaze towards a tall, fair-haired man, likely in his mid-30s, walking in. Well dressed, he walked with an air that made it clear he considered himself important. Accompanying him was a younger, shorter man with enough resemblance to Illario that Lucanis stiffened in surprise.

“Shit.” Rook whispered, her eyes glued to them as they approached.

“Trouble?” Neve asked. 

“Well…”

“Dock Town’s protectors, at your service,” the tall one confidently eased himself into his seat across from them. “What can the Threads do for…” He paused, brow furrowing as he gave Rook a once over. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“SMELLS LIKE SMOKEPOWDER AND AROUSAL-”

Arms crossed over his chest, Lucanis grimaced and turned his head to the side, trying to keep Spite in check. 

“Makal Damas? You said you were a Shadow Dragon.” Rook said, “Not the leader of the Threads.”

“And you said you were an Antivan Crow. I thought we were having a little fun lying.”

“She is a Crow.” Neve said dryly.

“ You’re the Rook everyone’s making such a fuss about?” Damas asked, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. 

“Anyone care to explain what’s going on?” Neve asked. 

“Rook and I have a little history, that’s all.” He took a swig from his stein. “Well, at least we can skip half the introductions. This is Elek Tavor, my second in command.”

Elek looked up from tracing the rim of his drink and nodded. 

“And you’re the infamous mage-killer?” Damas asked Lucanis. 

“Something like that.” he leaned over Rook to trade his coffee for a bottle of wine at the end of the table. 

“I’ve got names of missing people, including those hardly anyone noticed yet,” Elek interjected, eager to change the topic. “All yours. No catch.”

“No catch? Now that’s friendship.” Neve said. 

“Consider it a personal favor, if you want,” Damas purred. 

“The Venatori are getting too confident.” Elek continued, “We’ll increase our odds of getting them out of our streets if we work together.”

“You seem tough enough on your own,” Lucanis said. “Why do you need us?”

“I get my knuckles bloody from time to time. But if you haven’t noticed, there’s a lot going on. Those blood mages walked into this bar and abducted me .” Damas stuck his finger into his chest. “I’d like to correct that. The Threads are better neighbors than the Venatori, don’t you think?” 

“They are,” Neve chimed in. “Let’s speak candidly, then. Aelia’s a pain for both of us. I want her dead.” 

“Okay. Then we both hunt for Aelia.” Damas said. “You find her, you kill her. We find her? We’ll do the same. Dock Town is ours .” He leaned forward in his seat, lowering his voice. “But I’m open to sharing, Rook. Bear that in mind.” 

“So generous. I’ll remember that when I put all this on your tab.” 

“I knew I liked you.” Damas rose from his chair. “We’ll keep you posted.” He said to Neve and left for the door with Elek. 

Neve’s head snapped towards Rook once they were out of sight. “When did you sleep with the head of the Threads? ” 

“Give me a break. It was like a year ago and if I had any idea who he was - or how bad it would be -“

“ YOU COULD SHOW HER SOMETHING BETTER, LUCANIS.” 

Lucanis choked on his wine, quickly clearing his throat to cover it up, and stood abruptly from the table. 

“I’m going back to the Lighthouse. Next time you bring me along, make sure there’s something for me to kill.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

As she ascended the steps to her chamber, all Rook wanted was a nap. When Davrin came running after her, she knew it wasn’t happening.

“Rook,” Davrin panted, bending over to catch his breath, “the First Warden is summoning everyone back to Weisshaupt. Word of darkspawn hordes on the move, and an archdemon with them.”

“Fuck,” her hand instinctively reaching up to rub her tired eyes. “How much time do we have?”

“A day, a week? We’re going in blind, though. We need to know what we’re up against.”

The possibility of sleep now seemed distant and trivial, as guilt gnawed at her conscience. Was she so selfish that she could think about sleeping at a time like this?

“I’ll talk to Solas. Make sure the others are ready to move.”

No longer eager to return to her quarters, she begrudgingly shoved the doors open. Conversations with the Dread Wolf were rarely enjoyable. 

With a lazy flick of her wrist, ignited a row of candles on the ancient altar in front of the window and knelt before them. Eyes closed, she drew focus, her consciousness wandering from her body, searching the Fade for Solas’ prison. 

“How fares your battle?”

She opened her eyes with a start. The sight before her was bleak and colorless, a barren expanse stretching into infinity.

“The gods are moving against Weisshaupt and the Grey Wardens. I have little time. There are rumors of an archdemon involved. I need to know how to deal with them.”

Solas clasped his hands behind his back and paced, as if searching the ground beneath his feet for answers. “How are the Grey Wardens? Do they understand the danger they’re in yet?”

“Some. The First Warden is completely in denial, though. That…complicates things.” 

Solas halted, his gaze piercing through her, his demeanor growing more serious. “To defeat Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, you must unite the Wardens under your banner. How will you bring them to your side?”

“Seems I need to get around the First. Easy. Make him lose credibility. Classic political destabilization.”

“Spoken like an Antivan Crow.” Solas’ voice carried a hint of ambiguity that made it difficult for Rook to decipher whether he was praising or criticizing her.

“There never were Tevinter gods. The archdemons, as you call them, are weapons of the Evanuris. To harm them, you must first defeat their life force - the dragon thralls. And even with their dragons dead, they’ll be difficult to defeat.”

As Rook absorbed Solas’ revelations, her heart raced, its pounding echoing in her ears. “So what do I do?”

“Use my dagger. The one you recovered. It can pierce their enchantments and strike them down.”

“Got it,” Rook said, turning on her heel, eager to leave.

“You’re going in too fast! Take a moment. Remember what is at risk!”

She whirled around.

“I know exactly what is at risk!” she pointed at her chest. “That dragon could have leveled my city! Killed my family!”

“Yes. Good. Hold on to that. Remember the loss you have already survived. You will endure more, but your motivation to prevent it at any cost will keep you on the right path.” 

Rook scoffed. “You’re sick.”

“And you’re tired. Perhaps you need some rest. A moment to remember…”

As Solas faded away, the meditation room came back into view. Rook let out a long sigh and laid her head on the seat of the chaise. What the fuck was the Dread Wolf even talking about? Always lessons in everything. He was just as bad as Varric, as her father…

Exhaustion overwhelmed her, making her eyelids heavy and her limbs weak, a weariness that seeped into her very bones. A planned moment of focused breathing, meant to center herself, stretched into minutes, then…

Nothing.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Fiamma woke to a noise coming from the den and jolted upright in bed. She and her father’s small apartment carried sound through every wall, and she was certain if she’d noticed it, he was already investigating. 

When little flames are scared, they should be neither seen nor heard. 

With caution, she slipped her hand between her mattress and the bed frame, retrieving the encircled blade she’d gotten for her 17th birthday from Viago just days ago. She crept towards the door, carefully opening it a crack, and peered through the darkness, her eyes straining to see.

“I’ll give you a chance to leave my home, without consequence, but you must go now .” Her father growled from the kitchen. Fiamma peered around the corner, discovering him with his blade drawn, defensively poised and ready for a fight. She knew if she weren’t here, he’d have already engaged. 

He was buying her time. 

The intruder was facing away from her, and in the dim light filtering from the windows, she could see the glint of her father’s eyes as they met hers.

“You’re a Crow, no? Did someone put a contract on me? Surely my nephew, Viago, doesn’t think I’m a threat to him becoming Talon…”

Still buying time, but also providing thinly veiled directions. Fiamma read between the lines. 

Get out. Get help. Get Viago. 

She nodded in the dark and retreated to her room. The instant she shut her door behind her, she heard pots and pans flying, kitchen cabinets being thrown open, blows exchanged. Her movements were controlled and calm as she slipped a cloak over her nightgown and pulled on her boots. Unlatching her window, she crawled on top of her dresser and outside to the roof.  

This wasn’t their first break-in, or assassination attempt. Her father would be fine. She was simply leaving to give him peace of mind and fetch a cleanup crew. 

She navigated the rooftops to Viago’s, a short, five-minute walk, and jumped several feet over a gap in houses, aiming for his balcony. Missing just by inches, she caught herself on the railing, clinging to the rungs. She hoisted herself up, feeling the strain in her muscles as she flopped down onto the balcony stomach-first.

As she got up and brushed herself off, she caught sight of her cousin approaching, knife in hand, lowering it when he spotted her. With him was Illario Dellamorte, who he’d adopted as some sort of mentee. The boys always seemed to stick together. It was fine. She had Teia and her father. She’d kick their asses someday. 

Viago had taken contracts as soon as Caterina had allowed him to, and it wasn’t long before he’d amassed a small fortune for himself. He was a talented assassin. Incredible with poisons, not too bad with a blade either. Aunt Viama had married a few years back and settled down just outside of Treviso, so he’d purchased this apartment for himself as a reward for his efforts, deciding it was time for him to branch out on his own. 

“I’ve told you Fiamma.” Viago said through the glass, unlocking several deadbolts. “Use the front door.”

“The streets might not be safe. Someone broke into our house.” She said, as if reciting something she’d memorized. Everything felt slow, disjointed.

“What?” Illario blurted. 

“It was a Crow. My father’s holding him off in the kitchen. He’ll probably have handled it by the time we get back, but there could be others…”

“Right. Let’s go,” Viago said, leaping over his balcony railing to the neighboring roof with ease. Fiamma followed, successfully making the jump this time, with Illario trailing close behind. 

“Taking a contract on the Flame of Treviso. Fools.” He mumbled. “I’d like to know what idiot would even put one out.” 

“If it’s really a contract, it’s not sanctioned by Caterina or any of the Talons, to my knowledge.” Viago said, “Your father isn’t interested in Talon, so it can’t be anyone fearing competition..”

As they reached the apartment, Fiamma nudged her window pane and slid her curtains aside. Before she could step through, Viago held his hand out, entering first. Illario ducked in after him, holding out his hand to Fiamma. His arms were warm, a reassuring sense of security as he guided her down from atop the dresser.

The house was silent, still dark. A knot wound itself tightly in Fiamma’s stomach. 

Something was wrong. 

Viago motioned for them to stay back, slowly opening her bedroom door and creeping into the hall. The floorboards creaked slightly beneath his weight, likely intentionally on his part, as he tried to draw out the intruder. Illario’s arm snaked tightly around Fiamma’s waist, his shortsword drawn as they followed, shattered glass and splintered wood crunching beneath their boots.

The kitchen was a disaster, but noticeably empty. It wasn’t until Fiamma turned around to face the den that she stepped in something wet. Her breathing became shallow as she waved her hand to ignite a candle, but her nerves made her magic unstable, lighting every source of light in the apartment. 

The three of them squinted, eyes adjusting to the overwhelming brightness, before Fiamma’s legs gave way beneath her. Illario clung tightly to her as she fell to the floor with a single, devastated sob, burying her face in his shoulder. 

Dante De Riva’s lifeless body was slumped against the fireplace, a dead crow stuffed where his head should have been. His body was drenched in blood, the wedding band still on his left hand gleaming in the light through streaks of crimson. 

This wasn’t a clean job, wasn’t just a contract. It was a butchering. 

Viago crouched beside the body, elbows on his knees, and lowered his head. 

“Get her out of here, Illario.” He said, his tone void of emotion as he looked around for clues. This was future Talon, Viago. Not a grieving nephew. “Send Caterina and Lucanis back. Take major streets, stay out of the shadows.”  

Illario nodded, his grip on Fiamma tightening as he lifted her off the floor. Her chest heaved, throat constricting as her gaze fell upon her father’s desecrated corpse again, and he hoisted her into his arms, carrying her out the front door. 

“Walk Fiammetta. You have to.” 

She shook her head sadly as he set her down outside, tears streaming down her face.

“I promise you, there will be time to grieve later, but now we have to go .” He cupped her face in his hands. “If you think you’re safe out here, weeping in the street, you’re wrong. ” 

She sniffed and nodded, and he ran his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away her tears. 

“No one will hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

He took her by the hand and led her through the streets to Caterina’s villa, stopping to glance around corners, fingertips never leaving the hilt of his sword. 

The doors of Villa Dellamorte crashed open, making the windows tremble in their frames. Illario let them rattle shut behind him as he guided Fiamma to the couch in the sitting room.

“Mierda, Illario, did you really have to do that?”

His cousin Lucanis appeared in the doorway and paused, his forehead wrinkling as he drew nearer.

“ De Riva? What’s going on?”

Illario looked over his shoulder, exchanging silent words with his cousin. Lucanis looked down at Fiamma, her hands woven through her hair, as she hung her head low, staring at the flames rising in the hearth across from her.

“No…”

“Parents always die, right?” Fiamma asked, raising her head to stare intently at Lucanis. His face twisted in a grimace of guilt and agony, his lips parting slightly. 

“And someone always pays.” Illario reassured her through clenched teeth. 

“Who is slamming doors in my house!” Caterina shouted as she rounded the corner, her cane knocking against the wood. Her gaze fell upon Fiamma for several seconds, and she glanced between her grandsons in horror. 

“Dante?” she breathed. They both nodded solemnly in confirmation.  

“How can this be?” Caterina demanded. “Where is Viago?” 

“With the body.” Illario said quietly. 

Caterina frowned. “Lucanis, go. Stop by the Cantori’s on the way and send Arandrateia here.” She said, “I will meet you at the De Riva’s.” 

He departed swiftly, without question.

The First Talon’s obedient little dog.

“Illario, get Fiammetta a change of clothes from the spare room. Mierda…” 

Fiamma looked down at herself, finding the lower half of her nightgown drenched in her father’s blood. Following a trail of crimson footsteps, she realized she’d tracked blood across Caterina’s white marble floors.

“These moments define Crows, Fiammetta.” Caterina said. “I have buried my own parents, my children, all but two of my grandchildren. None of them died natural deaths. It does not get easier, but you endure. Or you let it get you killed, too.” 

She leaned forward on her cane. The handle featured an intricately carved crow’s head, and Fiamma’s stomach roiled. 

“Honor your father in death by not forfeiting your life. Grieve, and then let that fury guide you to survive.” 

Caterina rose, placing a hand on Fiamma’s shoulder. “This deed will not go unpunished. The Dellamortes and the De Rivas are strong houses. Us Crows honor our own.” She said, her cane scraping across the floor as she departed. 

Bullshit, Fiamma thought to herself, the Crows will slit one another’s throats for a shred of power.

When Illario returned, Fiamma couldn’t find the energy to change into the clean clothes he brought her. She sank to the floor, kneeling on the bearskin rug in front of the fire, wrapping her cloak tightly around her.

Illario set the neatly folded stack of clothes on the couch and joined her. Fiamma turned to her side and rested her head on his lap, staring into the hearth. His fingers hovered for a moment, surprised, before he stroked her hair.

“I will avenge your father’s death, Fiammetta. I swear on my life.”

She didn’t respond. Numbed, she transitioned into a state somewhere between dreaming and disassociation. She didn’t hear the door in the foyer creak open, or the shuffling of feet behind them. Only felt Teia reaching for her hands, squeezing them tightly in her own, caused her to stir from her oblivion.

“Fi…”

Face crumpled in dismay, Teia laid down beside her, and the three clung to one another until sunrise, when Viago and Lucanis returned home, looking nearly as haunted as Fiamma felt.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“Rook? Hey! Rook.”

Davrin banged on her chamber door with his fist again, and her eyes snapped open. Disoriented, she braced herself on the chaise and pushed herself up.

“Coming!”

She blinked rapidly, trying to dismiss the memories and emotions threatening to resurface, and grabbed her things.

“About damn time.” He grumbled as she joined him in the hall.

“How long was I out?” Rook asked, hurrying down the stairs after him.

“I don’t know, but things at Weisshaupt are getting worse. It’s time to go. Hopefully, your Dread Wolf friend had some insight.” 

“He’s not my friend. We don’t get tea in his little prison and exchange pleasantries.”

“What do you exchange, then?”

“Information. Verbal jabs, mostly.”

When they arrived in the hall, everyone else was waiting for her command. 

“There’s an Eluvian in storage in the vault. It was a gift from the Dalish.” Davrin said.

“Ours should go right to it…probably.” Bellara added. 

Rook caught sight of the Crow head buttons sewn into Lucanis’ vest and hesitated, overcome with a desire to pluck each one loose and cast them into the nothingness of the Fade. He took notice of her lingering gaze and furrowed his brow, tilting his head. With a deep breath, she steeled herself and shifted her attention.

“So we sneak into Weisshaupt, nice and quiet, then find Antoine and Evka.”

“Was…there a plan after that?” Neve asked.

“I’m not giving a speech.” Rook muttered, “Let’s go kill a fucking god.”

A/N: Okay well now that you've met Fi's dad...sorry! Lots of building this chapter, next one moves a bit more quickly. Next stop: Weisshaupt, Spite, and brooding. Thanks for the support! It really keeps my head on and me motivated. I appreciate you all soooo much. x

[savagewildnerness]

There’s really an awful lot of pondering on death & suicide & what it takes to endure existence in The Vampire Lestat… for all it’s viewed as a lighter book than Interview with the Vampire! Like, to the degree that every single main character is at some point either suicidal or wishes to die… or that actually happens. Even though the majority of them are immortal!

It’s making me wonder on this re-read, where I try to think about it more deeply, rather than just reading it - is an innate understanding of how difficult it is to endure/how easy it could be to just slip from existence a reason many of us initially loved this book? Is that Anne can articulate so well that desire to escape oneself & how it feels when that’s impossible one of the most important themes of the books?

Obviously, I’ve spoken about it often: I always associated with Nicolas a lot. Primarily due to how he perceives his own ability/experience of violin playing (I was 12. I definitely wasn’t then, nor am I now anywhere near as cynical as Nicolas….) but I don’t say it is *only* the violin & Nicolas’ music & how he feels to play and about his music that I associate with. Not least because in my opinion, how Nicolas perceives his own music is a reflection of how he perceives himself & how he perceives the world.

In any case, after my last night pondering on Armand’s internal desolation & the way he is actually most emptied of feeling when filled with some external source… yet that’s what he desires/needs because it is the only way he can feel safe… and he’d welcome death it feels if it came to him rather than him having to seek it, and going against God.

Well anyway, I haven’t read on yet, but I listened to the next bit on audiobook as I drive today. And it really struck me how delicate everyone’s mind & heart is.

Nicolas is actually like a fragile genius as a vampire - creating wildly creative, dark plays, articulating the horrors he feels are true (& thus creating Good Art Actually Lestat!) yet he cannot cope. But is it really *madness* that Nicolas screams of horrors in the streets to mortals; that he wants to create a league of vampires; that he wants humans to destroy them all; that he cannot bear it? It seems quite natural to me. Not mad really at all!

And Lestat too, gives himself over to death in despair. For all he talks of enduring, he would not have been able to rise this first time he went into The Earth, but for Marius saving him. And no wonder. He has lost everything. Lestat, talking on fate & how if we escape it, perhaps it waits for us.

It’s hard for me, as a friend died last week at a similar mortal age to Nicolas’ 30 years & this whole part is death & inability to cope with the simple Horror of existence. (Albeit; monstrous existence… but existence *is* monstrous as it is, right? Vampires are a fantastical representation of the very real & way more horrific in my opinion (as it can’t be contained in beautiful, sensual, philosophical vampires in reality…) truth of the actual horror of existence for us all.)

And Lestat speaking on fate reminds me too of Debbie. A girl I went to secondary school with. When she was 11 she got Lupus & her secondary school years were awful, but she endured. I didn’t keep in touch with her after school & her Uncle worked in aircraft engineering & got her a good job. But she survived Lupus in her teenage years, only for death to claim her at 23 in a totally unrelated way… as if it had always just lain in wait. She had escaped it, but then fate waited for her.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I kind of want to create a poll, but I’ve just made myself laugh out loud at what that poll would be - like something like *Did your wee tween self relate to the self-immolatory desires of vampires?* Nice cheery question for a Monday!

I don’t mean it in a depressing way though. We can talk about The Horrors, while allowing joy & fun & play & amusement & silliness & innocence & childlikeness, right? Can we? I am not sure what I’m getting at…?

But this part is hard for me to read right now. And yet cathartic always too. Because… we all feel it, right? Anne is expressing what we humans feel in our tiny existences too.

How to bear it? The overwhelmingness of that.

Right?

[xxplastic-cubexx]

me Omw to annoy you about more Francesca content 😼😼

you and my entire inbox my friend strap in everyone this is gonna be The Francesca Mega Collection. part one The Bed Collection ft You HAVE To Click/Tap To Read Anything ESPECIALLY The Asks

thank you for joining me for the Francesca Bed Collection im going to pass out

[queerdiazs]

no matter HOW BAD 911blr gets always remember,,, 911twt is far worse

[cametotheshowinsd]

Who would you be sad with? And who would you deal with when they were sad? Grey skies every day for months, would you still stay?

[cable-salamdr]

The Ninjago fandom is doing a worldwide WHO trend??

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[sainz]

a closeted 20 year old that comes from a conservative rural family falling in love with a openly gay 18 year old on spanish prime tv

[todayisafridaynight]

Is that character gay? *points at Mine*

Allegedly.

[thefluxsystem]

i remembered all the bad things with clarity for once, and in the flashbacks i could finally see the figure in the corner.

it wore my mother’s face. the demon that told me it was my fault was not some distorted sound, but her voice, crystal clear and angry.

the arbiter of blame. and her ruling was in condemnation of her two-year-old daughter. after all, there’s nothing more difficult than looking in a mirror.

[lakesparkles]

Sorry if I sound weird and that I'm taking ages to answer messages. Tbh my mind has been a mess and I barely have energy to do anything

[monstriiss]

.

[theunconcernedembalmer]

probably my fav looks for sop. excuse the extremely experimental colours