#DA4 spoilers

[miyku]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard | ▶ dev. Bioware

[sky--phantom]

Lucanis and Emmrich about immortality

[thechildofmythal]

On my second playthrough now and feeling this Crow!Rook x Emmrich pairing big time 💜

his desk is just begging to be sat on okay?

had the pleasure of finally commissioning @sinsydia ♡ thanks you so much for capturing them so well !!!

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

very funny (and fitting) that Lucanis takes out his bad moods on Spite more than the reverse... like Spite is WAY more willing to compromise/share considering their situation. which makes sense since Lucanis was used to independence/had a life in a much more relevant way than Spite ever did but STILL. Mr. Crow over here drinking 28 cups of coffee per day just so his new buddy doesn't get a turn driving, when he could have arranged some sort of babysitting situation instead and gotten actual sleep most nights, since after the first couple weeks Spite isn't even trying to run away he just wants to know what candles taste like and check out what Manfred's up to. But Lucanis says NO. we live in a pantry now so you can't even look at fun things while I'm brooding. petition to swap their names honestly

[salesart]

solas and some spirit friends in the fade

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

#he does love the thrill of the chase#all 24 seconds of it#mans a sprinter 😌 (via @ellstersmash)

Davrin's romance is so funny. "I'm all about the thrill of the chase" bro I told you you looked cute one time and your icon immediately changed to a little heart meanwhile I could show up in Lucanis' pantry completely naked and he'd at most ask if I wanted coffee

[covertleathers]

"Illario used blood magic to control Spite." (To control me)

[profoundlyfaded]

I love this and had hoped this would be the answer - I can just see EmmRook exploring the world a lot more as a couple before going home. Oh, they’d have a deep connection to home and visit regularly (my Rook being a Watcher), especially if they still had access to the Eluvians but honestly, I prefer a world where Neve, Davrin (and Assan) and Emmrich (and Manfred) all set up shop solving murders in Minrathous or Emmrich responding to calls for help from Taash about ‘really creepy undead’ in a cave somewhere.

[birb--birb]

HEY so uh, I'm rewatching a bunch of Emmrich cutscenes I recorded during my playthrough (I cannot accurately describe how hilariously in love I am with Savrin and him as a couple) and I noticed this figure watching after the reviving Manfred scene. It's as the camera pans away from the group and up to like a balcony area and you see the figure briefly.

I have two thoughts of who it could be:

Vorgoth

one of the Lich lords

We don't see a lot of details so it's hard to tell if it is one of the Lich lords with their adornments, but I also don't think the figure is big enough for it to be Vorgoth? And if Vorgoth had been able to help, I feel like Emmrich would have asked him to be there with them.

I could see it being one of the Lich lords who was curious as to why this spirit means so much to Emmrich. Its possible that him choosing Manfred over lichdom would confuse them after seeing Emmrich spend so much time working towards lichdom. Or, did this moment of commitment and love evoke something in the Lich lord that they have forgotten about? Did a similar experience happen to one of the liches where they chose the lich path but regretted not being able to bring their friend back? Are they drawn to this because they see Emmrich and Manfred as a 'what could have been' for themselves?

Or the curtains are just blue because they are blue, and there's a random spirit who knew Emmrich and Manfred watching in the wings...... but I think we may have been meant to see this figure after we know Manfreds revival is successful, after we know Emmrichs care for his lil skeleton son runs so deep that even though the revival isn't guaranteed, he'd choose the chance to bring Manfred back over the chance at successfully ascending to lichdom.

[profoundlyfaded]

The difference here is-

The DA verse has decided to go down the route that Lich’s of the Necropolis are benevolent entities and forces for good, in vast contrast to the traditional depictions of Lichs in most settings.

Ascended Astarion is a blood sucking psychopath who indulges in all his hedonistic needs. AA will never contribute something positive to the world unless he takes out every Bhaalist in the city.

Now going back to DA, I say Lichs are benevolent, but that is the current depiction and BioWare may decide to develop that further so this argument might not be relevant in the future.

Ah shit is letting Emmrich become a lich the new “you’re a bad person if you ascended Astarion” discourse bc fun fact a decision you make in a video game says literally nothing about your morality irl.

[himluv]

Something You Should Know

Here's the next chapter in my Rookanis fic, Say My Name (Say it Twice), in which Lucanis and Rook have a heart-to-heart after experiencing one of Solas's memories in the Crossroads.

Drawing a line between himself and Rook had been easy. Unpleasant, but easy. 

Feel nothing.

Maintaining that line was much, much harder, especially when she insisted on bringing him on every outing. Not that it was unreasonable to do so – he and Rook had found their own rhythm in combat that made them a formidable team. It also frequently left him breathless. 

Lucanis had partnered with other Crows over the years – mostly Illario and Viago – but they all had distinct, individual styles. Illario was the seducer, charming his way close to the mark so they never saw his blade coming. Viago preferred his poisons, carefully studying his targets so he could choose the right concoction for the job. His targets were often dead before they even knew there was a contract on their life. 

Lucanis was more physical. He had his blades – at least seven for any job – and his stealth. But, by the time he reached his mark, they knew death had come for them. He ensured it. And if he could guarantee the kill was quick and bloodless, he would. Snapping a neck was much more efficient than slicing a throat. 

Rook wasn’t an assassin, and her lack of training showed in her form. Her dagger work lacked finesse, but she made up for it with a startling relentlessness. She relied heavily on her spells and orb, her lightning overwhelming enemies to leave them vulnerable to his blades. And mierda, she was fast, running in close to finish off dazed opponents and blinking away in a crackle of electricity. 

That said, they needed to work on her parrying.

“Snipers!” He shouted as an undead mage raised its staff. A ball of light careened at Rook, who raised her blade too late. The missile hit her square in the chest, launching her backwards.

“Rook’s hit!” Lucanis leapt into the air and Spite’s wings carried him to dive at the undead mage. But, before he could finish it off, Rook was there, slashing her dagger in a wide arc to send the undead flying. 

“I think that’s all of them,” Bellara said. 

Rook nodded, panting with hands on her hips. 

“Everyone still alive?” He asked. 

Rook chuckled and winced. She rubbed at her chest before knocking back a potion.

Rook. Hurt?

She met his gaze and shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said. 

He frowned. “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to.”

Lucanis didn’t know what she meant by that. Was his concern that obvious? Did Bellara notice it too? Or was Rook just being her usual, observant self?

“That was a hard hit, Rook,” Bellara said. “Maybe we should–”

“I’m fine, you guys.” She started off further down the trail, toward another shimmering gate. “Let’s see what the Dread Wolf’s hiding in this memory.”

Lucanis and Bellara shared a worried glance, then set off after her. 

Inside the memory, they saw not only Solas, but his general, too. And immediately Rook’s body language changed. She was stiff, spine rigid and shoulders high. Tense. Her eyes never left the general and the more Lucanis looked between them, the more he saw the resemblance.

Rook was paler, her hair lighter, but the slant of their noses and the planes of their cheeks were very similar. Lucanis knew next to nothing about elven vallaslin, but he’d wager good coin that the general’s face bore Mythal’s mark. 

But the most obvious, most convincing detail was the man’s violet eyes. The exact same shade that bordered Rook’s grey-blue irises. 

The vision of Solas and the man who might be her father dissolved and Rook wordlessly turned to continue their mission. Lucanis reached for her, but did not put his hand on her arm. 

“Rook?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine, Lucanis.”

Doesn’t SOUND fine, Spite said. 

The demon was right. Rook sounded upset, shaken. Like she needed to be anywhere but there. But once they were inside a memory, the only way out was through.

“Let’s just get through this,” she said. 

He watched her for a moment, but she refused to meet his gaze. Finally, he nodded. “All right.”

She sighed, then set off at a jog for their next task in the Dread Wolf’s memory. He followed, but gave Rook plenty of space. Bellara walked beside him. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked, voice low. “With Rook, I mean.”

No! Spite said, then took a deep breath, scenting the air. Rook is scared! And angryyyyy.

Lucanis kept his eyes on Rook. “She’s fine,” he said. 

“But–”

“Bellara.” Lucanis gave her a sharp look. 

She frowned at him. “She’s my friend, too.”

Friend? Spite hissed. NO. Rook is more!

Lucanis sighed. “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Bellara scowled at him. “You know something, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I know a lot of things.”

“Lucanis.”

He stopped and turned to face the elf. “Right now, Rook needs us to focus,” he said. “You can ask her about it afterward.”

She gave him a stubborn look that promised she would. “Fine,” she said. “But we’re also going to talk about this.”

Lucanis grunted his assent. If questioning him would get Bellara to give Rook some space, that was fine with him. 

They jogged to catch up with Rook, just as another wave of Elgar’nan’s recruits materialized. The memories were easy to dispatch, almost surprisingly so. He wondered if the Dread Wolf’s spirits had really wreaked such havoc, or if that was merely how Solas remembered it. 

Chaos. Disruption. Over and over and over and over. Spite growled. Used them.

Lucanis did not like the sound of that. But, if Rook had any suspicions about the Dread Wolf’s motives, she kept them to herself. 

She was a flurry of blade and lightning, cutting through the memories with such focus that Lucanis knew something was wrong. Rook was usually chatty in combat, commenting to her companions as she bounded around the battlefield. But, since seeing Fen’Harel’s general, Rook had thrown herself into each fight as if they weren’t there. As if she was all alone.

Angry, Spite said. No talk. Doesn’t want. To talk. He growled. Wants. To. Stab!

Well, Lucanis could definitely relate to that. If that’s where Rook was at, he would meet her there. He kept his silence, only calling out when Rook or Bellara were in harm’s way, and made sure to cover Rook even more than he usually did.

Rook. Needs. Help?

He would never describe Rook’s fighting style as efficient, but in her rage she was much more likely to wear down quickly. If she should falter, Lucanis would be there to take up the slack. 

And so they fought through wave after wave, across the bridge and to Elgar’nan’s front door. Only then did Solas’s plan become clear – they'd been the distraction. 

All around them, the memory bled away to the present, color and sound returning to their usual vibrancy. Beside him, Rook trembled, her blade held tight in her fist. 

“He used them,” she said, her voice low and shaking. “He sent those spirits to their deaths.”

“He thought the cost was worth it,” Lucanis said.

She spun on him, fury on her face. “That’s bullshit!”

Lucanis didn’t flinch as she shouted. Didn’t raise his hands or try to soothe her. She’d vibrated with rage through that entire memory – if this was how she needed to release it, Lucanis would gladly take the brunt of her fury.

“You can’t just use people like that,” she said. “I won’t–” she stopped as her voice broke. 

Bellara stepped up to stand on Lucanis’s other side. “Rook?” She said, her voice soft with concern. “What’s going on?”

Rook covered her face with both hands and took several deep, steadying breaths. Then she shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Just… something Solas said makes a lot of sense now.” Rook opened her eyes, and the pain and confusion there made his heart clench.

“I’m sorry, Lucanis,” she said. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said. He tried to inject some warmth into his voice, to convince her he was fine, but his concern for her made it fall flat.

“Rook…” Bellara said. 

She held up a hand to her friend. “I’m fine, Bellara. Really.”

Lying, Spite hissed. 

Lucanis thought that was pretty apparent to everyone present. “Let’s get back to the Lighthouse,” he said. 

Rook stooped to pick up the wolf statuette they’d recovered. “Great idea,” she said and headed back toward their eluvian. “Can’t wait to see what other terrible things he’s keeping from us.”

He’d expected to have to wait for Rook to seek him out after the others had gone to sleep. He’d even planned to call on her in her quarters if she avoided him for too long. She would need to talk about all that had happened today, whether she liked it or not. If it’d been his emotional outburst, he would do almost anything to pretend it never happened, so he was surprised when Rook joined him in the kitchen after dinner. 

She gave him a hesitant smile. “Want some help?”

Bellara had cooked, which meant Lucanis would clean up. “If you like,” he said. “There’s not much.”

She cast a glance around the kitchen, noting several pans, two cutting boards, and at least three different knives in need of washing, not including their plates and silverware still on the table. 

“Seems like a lot to me,” she said. 

He shrugged. “It keeps me busy.”

“You mean, it keeps you awake.”

Lucanis smirked at her. “That, too.”

“In that case,” she said, moving to stack their plates. “Will you make some fresh coffee?”

He chuckled at that. “I was going to do that anyway.”

“Of course you were.”

The fondness in her voice hit him like a shot of good Antivan brandy. He felt wam down to his toes. 

Flirting? Spite asked. 

At this point, Lucanis wasn’t sure the distinction mattered. After all they’d been through, he and Rook had reached a level of understanding that he could only think of as family. Whether her words were intended romantically or not, he found comfort in them all the same. 

There was quiet in the dining hall as Lucanis brewed coffee and Rook prepped the basin for washing. It was another of the Lighthouse’s oddities. Once they’d started cooking regularly, a basin with a fire rune engraved in the bottom appeared in the corner of the kitchen. It wasn’t as large or ornate as the one in Villa Dellamorte’s kitchen, but it did the job.

He poured the coffee, one for each of them in their matching cups, then joined her at the basin. “Here,” he said, handing her the cup. 

She took a sip and hummed. “I don’t understand how it’s so much better when you make it!”

Lucanis looked down at his coffee to hide his blush. “It just takes patience,” he said. “And practice.”

She snorted. “Neither of which I’m particularly good at.”

Lucanis laughed. “No,” he said. “You’re more of a wing-it type.”

She smiled at that. “It’s gotten us this far!”

“It has,” he ceded. He took another sip of his coffee, then set the cup on the shelf above the basin. “Come,” he said. “I’ll wash, you dry.”

She didn’t argue and they set to the task with surprising ease. Only a handful of dishes in, Rook began to hum. Lucanis didn’t stop washing, didn’t freeze or turn to look at for fear she might stop. So, he kept his head down, his hands busy, and just listened.

It only took a few notes to recognize one of the songs that the minstrels often played in Café Pietra. Lucanis was no musician, but he thought she sounded good. Her tone was full and clear, and he wondered if it would carry over into her voice. 

Spite perched on the counter nearest Rook, each dry plate phasing through him as she set them down. 

Rook sings? The demon asked. 

Lucanis said nothing. He would not interrupt this moment for anything. He was standing nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Rook while they cleaned up after dinner. There was fresh coffee and she was humming a song from one of his favorite places back home. 

It was the most peaceful moment of Lucanis’s life.

“Lucanis?” She asked as he handed her another plate. 

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t asked about what happened today.”

He shrugged. “I knew you’d talk when you were ready.”

“Oh,” she said. She dried the plate with her towel, then stacked it with the others. 

Spite inhaled as she momentarily faced him. Angry, he hissed. And sad.

“It was him,” she said. 

“You’re sure?”

“You saw him.” She shook her head. “A mage with Mythal’s vallaslin.”

Lucanis nodded, but kept his eyes on the water as he set to scrubbing one of the pans. “There was a resemblance.”

She spun to face him. “You think?” In that moment, her face shone with so much hope that Lucanis thought his heart might burst. 

“Yes,” he said. He stopped scrubbing and took the towel from her to dry his hands. He willed them to be steady as he continued. “Your cheekbones and noses are the same.”

She watched him with wide shimmering eyes as he raised one hand over her face, his index finger tracing a line across her cheeks and then down her nose. He did not touch her, but the electricity between her skin and his was almost as good as if he had. 

“But more than anything,” he continued, “it was the eyes that gave it away.” He looked her in the eye and let all the weeks of confusion and want, of fear and hope, well up inside him. “You inherited some of his color, I think.” His voice was low, barely more than a whisper. 

Rook’s gaze darted around his face, shimmering and hopeful, her pupils blown wide. Then her gaze dropped down to his mouth and she licked her lips. 

The sight jolted Lucanis, his body reacting so viscerally he blinked with shock. 

Waaaaaaant. 

What was he thinking? Hadn’t he just resolved to draw a line between them? To keep things professional? She needed an assassin, perhaps a friend. Not… whatever this was. 

He turned back to the dishes, cursing himself for being so weak once again. 

“Lucanis?” Her voice was small, as if she were afraid she might upset him. 

“You were right,” he said. “About the notes and being Fen’Harel’s general.”

There was silence for a moment, stillness too as Rook watched him. Then she sighed and got back to drying the pan he handed her. 

“Yeah,” she said, eventually. “But I still don’t know what happened to him.”

He frowned. “If he’s in Solas’s memories, in his regrets…” he winced. 

Rook sighed again. “Then probably nothing good.”

“I’m sorry, Rook,” he said. 

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, Lucanis.”

He frowned at her. “For what?”

“For today. How I reacted.” She looked very pointedly at the knife she was drying. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Lucanis snorted. “I’ve dealt with worse,” he said. 

“I know,” she said. Her voice was so fragile it stopped him mid-scrub. She waited for him to look at her before she continued speaking. “I know,” she repeated. “And I never want to add to your pain.”

The conviction in her voice rooted him in place. He could not look away from her, could not move as she reached out and put her hand on his arm. Mierda, she was so warm! He wanted her to envelop him in that warmth, to hold him close and promise him nothing but soft, sweet things. 

But what he wanted for himself and what he wanted for her were two very different things. She deserved more than what he could give. So, he took a step back and returned to washing the last of the dishes. 

“Thank you, Rook,” he said. “I can finish the rest.”

NO! Spite howled. No! Hurt Rook? Hurt. US!

For a long moment, she didn’t move, didn’t speak. Then she sighed and started putting away the dishes. They worked in not-quite-easy silence until the kitchen was pristine. Until both their cups were empty, washed, and hanging from their rack above the percolator. 

Lucanis watched Rook hang her damp towel over the edge of the now-empty wash basin. He leaned against the stove, arms and ankles crossed, and waited for whatever she was about to say. He expected her to be angry – how many mixed signals could he send before she just gave up? – but when she spoke her voice was calm and sure. 

“There’s something you should know about me, Lucanis.”

Something in her tone made his pulse race, that increasingly familiar, delicious heat rolling through him. “And what’s that, Rook?”

She turned to face him and pinned him with the intensity of her gaze. “I don’t do anything halfway.”

Not that long ago, Lucanis might have thought she was simply talking about the dishes, but he’d learned a lot about Rook in the last couple of months. Enough to know she wasn’t talking about the household chores. 

He held her gaze, awash in her determination and her certainty. It buoyed him to know someone as breathtaking as her could look at him like that. “Well, then,” he said. “We have that in common.” 

It was a stupid thing to say. Bold and confident when he felt neither. It sounded like something from one of his romance novels – completely ridiculous. 

But it was true.

He stood up and nodded once at her. “Goodnight, Rook.”

She watched him, her face flushed and brow furrowed. “Goodnight, Lucanis.”

Then he turned his back to her and returned to the safety of the pantry. It was going to be a long, torturous night of replaying the evening over and over again in his mind. A long, wonderfully torturous night. 

[sky--phantom]

I just got that Davrin would understand about a ritual that could kill you, you know, considering the Joining

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Lucanis would abuse the eluvian network to get the freshest ripest fruits and vegetables from wherever they grow best every single week and he's so right for that

[xnova239x]

Oooh… I knew it!

Emmrich is scared the romance is a fleeting fancy, not the epic love he has desperately been craving all his life. He’s also terrified of just how deep his feelings for Rook are.

So, his anxiety overrules what he truly wants. He thinks Rook will eventually break it off, so he tries to before that happens… to spare hurt feelings later.

But then Tearstone island happens… and he realises…

Rook is his One and Only. The true love of his life.

(Also, Harding was just worried for her very emotionally sensitive friend who has Big Feelings. A totally reasonable reaction between friends)

I'm not ok 😭

[leliwardens]

#veilguardspoilers Hello and delighted you're willing to answer questions! <3 I love your work! And I certainly wanted to ask about Josephine: what would her ideal/dream wedding be? I was tickled when I read about that in her letter to her Inquisitor I just have to know. 💞 --- Thank you! And what a delightful question in turn! I think she'd want a big, flower-filled, no-holds barred wedding at her family's estate. All her relatives, friends she made in the Inquisition, the Inquisitor's relatives (if they have any/keep in touch.) She'd begin planning 16 months in advance. (x)

SYLVIA ANSWERED MY QUESTION ABOUT JOSEPHINE AND HER WEDDING AUGHHHH 😭😭😭

[the-northern-continent]

Compassion spirits in theory: kind, gentle, all too rare

Compassion spirits in practice: never more than 1m away from a FRESH dead body, and excited to lead you toward(!) the hazard that caused it. If they become “less rare” in your neighborhood, flee immediately.