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midnightwind · 2 months ago

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Clipped Wings

Summary: The Lighthouse seems to be a living thing of its own and Rook is starting to think it's reaching out for it's old master. Unfortunately that means her sleep keeps getting interrupted. At least she can wander to a different room for some peace and quiet.

Word Count: 4094

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Chapter 6: Just A Spark

Fen’Harel…

Renn twitched in her sleep, brows furrowing.

Please, help me!

A heavy, labored breath huffed from her lungs.

What have you done? They trusted us!

A long, low whimper followed as she curled in on herself.

Dread Wolf, I know you’re here.

She bolted upright, her breaths shaking her whole body. The myriad voices were indistinct whispers now at the edge of her mind, like strands of spider silk in the air: frail and drifting, but tangling around her steadily. The room was suffocating. The constant blue light from the fishtank filled her with a nausea that never seemed to fully disappear and the divan was only so comfortable as a bed. She usually prided herself on being able to sleep anywhere, but this room felt almost malicious. Like it was angry at her for some reason. The fact that the last few days had her waking up to ghostly whispers yelling for the would-be god stuck in her head wasn’t helping matters. If the Lighthouse was haunting her to try and get at Solas, the two blighted gods were going to be the least of her worries.

Running her hands over her face, she sighed heavily. She really didn’t need more spirits complicating things. They’d only just brought Lucanis to the Lighthouse and already Spite had acted out. She had hoped that with the combined knowledge of Neve and Bellara there would be some kind of solution or comfort for her fellow assassin. Instead, they'd gotten a front row seat to the demon lashing out, at the expense of Lucanis. If she had the lingering ghosts of whatever Solas had gotten up to in his little rebellion to contend with on top of the literal demon? She felt she may start screaming.

Sleep was clearly a losing battle here. Good thing the Lighthouse had two other rooms with empty couches. The library was welcoming enough, but the spinning debris made the lighting almost as bad as the fishtank’s awful glow. Plus the dining hall had a fireplace. Dozing on the couch with a crackling fire, a book half forgotten in her hand was a dose of home. She often lingered in Viago’s office as he poured over contracts and receipts, ensuring that the fire was kept comfortably burning and keeping watch for unwelcome guests. Not unlike a dozing guard dog until he had need of her. She sighed wistfully. Simpler times.

So she wrapped her blanket around her shoulders much like she had as a child pretending to be a full fledged Crow and crawled out of bed. Unlike when she was younger, her sneaking wouldn’t end in a beating if she got caught. With quiet steps, she made it all the way to the doors before she paused. If sleep was going to be an elusive bastard she might as well try to catch up on her reading. She had only brought two books along on her journey with Varric: the cautionary tale of mages and demons that every caster was likely familiar with and a Nevarran tome on spirits. The first she had because Viago was convinced she would simply forget to be careful with demons and the latter she had bought when the hunt for Solas had brought them just over the border into the queer kingdom. It was a stuffy read full of long terms and technical theories, but given the newest member it was likely the kinder book to pick. So she tucked her chosen entertainment under an arm and delved into the sleepy gloom outside.

The Lighthouse was always so quiet no matter the hour, the library still dimly lit and dusty. Whatever entity powered it was slowly waking up, pulling itself into order. The bookshelves were a little fuller than the day before, a corner tidier or seating area cleaner. Broken steps and crumbling stone were repairing themselves while they all slept and even the buildings in the courtyard were fixing themselves. It still struggled to adapt to a day-night cycle, managing more of an early morning sky to a bright afternoon day, but steadily it was transforming from a ruin into a home. Maybe she'd get a proper room that adapted to her taste like everyone else had, and she hadn’t even considered the new building likely conjured up for their fresh recruit. Her mind raced to imagine what flavor of Antiva it would craft for Lucanis.

Would it manifest the cozy villas in the countryside, full of summer warmth and the scent of grapes wafting through the air? Or maybe an inn next to the docks from his many contracts, lulled to sleep by the drunken sailor shanties and creaking ships. Perhaps one of the rich bars, lights low and air sweet with smoke and quiet murmurs. Maybe a cafe, peaceful and full of coffee with the mirror shine of the canals nearby. Although being from the House of the First Talon, it was likely going to be a room dripping with elegance and expensive furnishings. Or perhaps it would be the rougher side of being a Crow: all training rooms, labs, and research. Having a proper acrobatics course in the Lighthouse wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.

So caught up in the fantasy of a would-be pocket of home, she nearly neglected to find which building had miraculously repaired itself. Except nothing had changed, from the outside at least. She had half expected the looming square of rock next to Harding's garden to have reconnected to the greater mass. A large, rich apartment with a second floor and balcony seemed fitting enough for a member of the First Talon's House, but no. It was still a scattered ruin drifting in the void. She stood on her toes, peering around the already established rooms as if the new one had manifested behind them, an assassin’s hidden nook. Empty air greeted her there as well and her heels fell back to the ground as she huffed in confusion. The thorns had still been stubbornly clinging to the doorways by her room and the infirmary, and she heavily doubted Lucanis would have moved in with Varric. Although the thought of Varric trying to talk a second Crow out of the lifestyle did bring a faint smile to her lips. It wouldn’t work, again, but it would be amusing.

If there wasn’t a new building and all the rooms she knew about were empty or blocked still, where had the Crow set up? She spun around, facing the doors into the Lighthouse itself and craning her neck up. It wouldn’t have manifested a literal nest for him, right? But the tower was still the same, no sudden growth of a room forming from the bricks. A hand perched on her hip as she furrowed her brow, the other clutching the book tight to her chest. This wasn’t making sense.

“Dweller?” The Caretaker’s soft voice echoed behind her from the little counter the spirit had set up at. “Is there something to your displeasure?”

Oh, right, they could help. “Maybe? You wouldn’t happen to know where our latest resident is staying, would you?” She half turned to look at the floating figure. “I thought it’d be obvious like when everyone else settled in, but…”

The queer mask of the spirit tilted ever so slightly. “Your Antivan Crow has settled into the building known as the Dining Room. He left once to survey the grounds and received a delivery from the city known as Treviso.”

She blinked slowly, a worried smile jumping to her lips. “Do… do you keep track of everyone like that?”

“My role is to care for the residents of the Lighthouse. Knowing your status at all times while within the grounds is key to fulfilling this purpose.” They paused, straightening. “Do you wish me to stop?”

“Um,” she hummed, running her free hand through her hair, “maybe don’t offer up the details when someone asks. Privacy is nice.”

The spirit bobbed. “Noted.”

Giving the Caretaker a hurried thumbs up, she started sliding towards the dining room. “Anyway, thanks. You can go back to… caretaking?”

When that didn’t elicit a response she scurried away, suddenly feeling like she was being watched. The implications alone made her skin crawl. Something to discuss with the group later. Maybe. Would telling the Caretaker to stop somehow rob it of purpose and twist it into something new and dangerous? Ghosts, a demon, and now maybe a spirit one conversation away from turning, it was making her feel a bit frazzled. The thought of her little sanctuary now being occupied also didn’t thrill her, but maybe Lucanis would be open to a little company. She just needed a few hours to sleep in a room that didn’t make her think of rushing water or have freak lights. With a heavy sigh, she steeled herself for a potentially awkward evening and paused before the double doors of the dining hall. She merely hovered there, unsure if she should knock or just walk inside. He had set up shop in an essentially shared space for the group and she wasn’t sure if it would be rude to just… open the doors.

She settled for knocking before pushing a door open just enough to stick her head inside. “Lucanis? The Caretaker said you were staying in here..?”

The area itself was a great deal tidier than before, the fireplace crackling warmly and candles glowing where deep shadows used to linger. The little kitchen in the corner had been properly cleaned, the once dusty pots and pans stacked or hanging from hooks. Even the scattered foodstuff the trio had been picking through the past few days had been collected and organized into baskets and jars on shelves. The table itself had been wiped down and places properly set, a lovely yet simple candelabra neatly placed in the center. The seating area in the corner had even been straightened, the mess of pillows had been evenly distributed among the couches and the ratty blanket she’d found was now draped across the back of one sofa. And there was a distinct lack of an Antivan assassin. The door opened fully as her hand dropped to her side and she took a tentative step inside. Maybe the Caretaker had been wrong and she had simply missed a new door appearing back in the library.

But then the pantry door opened and Lucanis paused as their eyes met. “Ah, Rook. Good evening, I think?” A weak smile appeared at that. “It’s hard to track the time here. Did you want a snack? I was about to start making coffee.”

A nervous thrum reverberated through her suddenly and she clutched the book tightly like it was a shield. “I don’t want to trouble you, I’ve just been-” she stopped abruptly, the smell on the air lancing through the worry and replacing it with disbelief. “Wait, did you bring beans from Antiva?”

A knowing smirk spread across his face as he crossed to the kitchen. “My cousin sent a few of my old things and my favorite blend as well. Is that a yes, then?”

She was pulling a chair out at the table in the next breath, the air fizzing with her magic from the rapid movement. “Maker above, please. I have spent the last year living off the worst concoctions parading as coffee.”

That earned her a warm chuckle. “Always the worst part of having a contract outside Antiva: the coffee is just terrible.” There was a small clatter from the corner and she watched him quietly pull out the contraption for making the drink. “Did you do a lot of work far from home or was that just the Dreadwolf contract?”

Her eyes slid to the crackling fire as she rested her chin in her hand on the tabletop. “Just the one job. Ran me from Antiva through the Free Marches and almost into Nevarra before his trail picked up in Tevinter. The man liked to travel.”

The pleasing sound of the coffee beans being measured and poured filled the air. “A nice variety, at least, if not troublesome. A whole year on one contract is exhausting, isn’t it?”

She blinked, baffled for a moment, before a rueful laugh escaped her. “Aren’t we kindred spirits?” She slouched in her chair, gathering the excess blanket as a poor pillow as she stretched her hands towards the warm flames. “Speaking of spirits, are you and Spite okay now?

A long silence stretched between them to the point where she almost winced, an apology on the tip of her tongue before he broke it first. “As okay as one can be when sharing a body with a demon. But Spite is my problem, not yours. Please, don’t trouble yourself about him.”

That caused her to frown slightly. “You’re part of the team now, both of you, for better or for worse. Your troubles are my troubles and all that. I mean, I’m asking you to kill two gods. Least I could do is help with your whole rotten situation.”

“Leave Spite to me.” His voice was firm, but there was a warmth buried in it. “No one was in the Ossuary by choice, not even the demons. If Spite is trapped in this world, he has good reason to fight for it.”

“Fair enough.” She watched the fire dancing for a long moment as the smell of fresh coffee steadily grew. She should have left it at that, opened her book and quietly waited for her drink, but the curiosity got the better of her. “Can… I ask what it’s like? Being possessed?”

The kitchen corner was deathly silent and when she glanced over, Lucanis was staring at the brewer and almost scowling. And then the emotion was smoothed away and he busied himself with retrieving some mugs. “Unpleasant, usually. Like a pressure bearing down on me or sharp pains. Sometimes he’s like a ghost, roaming around, and sometimes he’s a trapped bird and my body is the cage. I can feel him thrashing and clawing to get out when he’s upset.” A heavy sigh escaped him. “He wants control, tries to push me aside to get it. When I sleep, it seems to be easier for him to win, so I try not to sleep much.”

“Hence the coffee.” She offered up lamely, a half smile on her lips. It felt hollow. “Sorry, I just… when you get warned about abominations for most of your life, you start to wonder sometimes.”

“Abomination.” The word rolled off his tongue with only a hint of bitterness. “Suppose I should get used to that.”

“It’s supposed to be something that can only happen to mages.” She offered weakly. “Unless you’ve been a secret mage this whole time, of course.” It was a poor attempt at a joke, but she felt a pang of guilt for walking them both down the dour road.

When he laughed this time, she watched him from the corner of her eye. His whole face softened, the smile small but radiant in the firelight. It caused her heart to flutter happily in her chest. After the harrowing details of their meeting, she had worried little joys would be beyond him. It was heartening to be proven wrong.

“I promise you, without Spite I have the magical talent of a brick.” His voice still hummed with amusement.

“A shame, you could have joined Harding in the ‘secretly magical’ club. I think she’d welcome the company.” She grinned at him as he started pouring their drinks.

“I’m not so sure. Your scout has been glaring at me since she was told of my situation.” He almost shrugged as he brought two steaming mugs over to the table and held one out to her. “I don’t blame her, but I think it does bar me from that club.”

With a reverence usually reserved for the Maker himself, she accepted the drink and cradled it gingerly in her hands. It was warm and soothing and everything she had missed. A content sigh escaped her and he smiled at it as he leaned on the back of a chair.

“If I may,” he started as she huffed at her coffee in a poor attempt to cool it, “what was your original purpose for coming here? Your company is welcome, but given your accessories…”

She flinched slightly like she had been caught doing something wrong. “Ahh, well, I… don’t like the room I got. Everyone else got a custom place and I guess the Lighthouse got confused with me because of Solas or something. So I have a fish tank for a wall and a stiff divan for a bed. Sometimes I would sleep in here and that was my whole plan for tonight, until...”

He tilted his head slightly. “Until I happened to be here?”

“The Caretaker did warn me, but yeah. I fully expected you to get some kind of lavish suite, as befits the star assassin of the Crows, but maybe the Lighthouse got confused with you as well.” She sipped cautiously, relishing the taste. It was a good, rich blend. Probably cost a fortune in the markets. A pleased hum vibrated through her. “I mean, the only people who came with a plus one not getting a proper room? Sounds like a conspiracy to me.”

A weak smile graced his lips before it was hidden by his mug. “I always preferred simpler lodgings while away from home. Draws less attention.”

She dipped her head. “Easier to abandon, less questions when you disappear, harder to track.” She tucked the blanket closer to herself, the frayed edges of her nerves from the poor dreams finally smoothing. “But, not many jobs come with a super safe magic base like this one. You could have the lavish suite.”

“I like being near the kitchen.” He shrugged, grinning a moment later. “All the coffee is here.”

Pressing a hand to her chest, she nodded solemnly. “Honestly a tempting point to move in here myself. Might be marginally less haunted, too.” That earned her a raised eyebrow of concern. She fluttered her hand dismissively, but sighed heavily. She hadn't been thinking when she said that. “I think… I think this place holds fragments of memories, not actual ghosts. Moments and pieces from Solas’ life back as Fen’harel and this place senses him in me, keeps whispering weird stuff at me. It's been making sleep… Difficult.”

He seemed to wince sympathetically. “And it doesn't happen here?”

“Mostly just in ‘my’ room. Sometimes I get the quietest little murmurs in the library, but maybe I've just started imagining them elsewhere.” She ran a hand through her hair, the exhaustion at the whole situation weighing heavily on her shoulders.

“Well, you're more than welcome to continue using the couches here as you like. You'll simply have to put up with me using the kitchen and generally existing in the space.” He offered softly.

She blinked for a moment before shaking her head. “Oh, no, I don't want to steal your bed or anything-”

His laugh cut her off. “I'm trying not to sleep, Rook, and I've set a cot up in the pantry besides. This is still a communal space.”

She hummed in thought. “Are you sure? You won't mind having me around?”

“This was yours before it was mine. I can always go to the library or music room or to my little pantry if I need.” The mug of coffee was hiding his expression from her once more.

“If you say so.” She was squinting with a marginal amount of suspicion at him before shrugging it away. “Why the pantry, of all places?”

“Really? I'd have thought you of all people would understand why.” There was a teasing tone to his voice.

“I mean, yes. Obviously. Small space, one door, easy to defend and hard to ambush. Thank you, ser.” She gave him a mock salute which earned her another smile. She was finding she rather liked earning those from him. “But I mean, you've also been imprisoned for a year. I would have expected a small room to be akin to torture.”

The warm grin faded, the sharp light of a Crow glinting in his eyes. “Perhaps, and we could delve into that, but then I would also have a question for you. I saw your ‘swimming’ back to the boat and you say you hate your room with the floor to ceiling fish tank-”

“We appear to be at an impasse.” She offered crisply, sitting up a little straighter. “What a shame we must abandon this scintillating discussion here!”

A self satisfied smirk settled on his lips. “A true tragedy. Now, I had been planning to do some light cooking before you arrived. A snack to go with your coffee?”

A peace offering, then. “Will it be another taste from home?” Hope was bright in her voice.

“I think I can manage that.”

As he turned back to the kitchen, she watched him with a distant affection. Things felt almost manageable with another Crow around. Like she had a lifeline back to normalcy. With a small smile, she bundled herself to her favored couch, burrowing into the blanket and cushions. The delicious gift of coffee was cradled lovingly to her chest and she cracked the book open in her lap. As the smell of warm, familiar spices filled the room, she let herself finally and properly relax for the first time in weeks. Everything felt… alright, now.

Observation Log 2

Much of this Lighthouse appears to be in disrepair, though the others have reassured me that it is slowly fixing itself. If they meant that as a comfort, it did a much better job of unsettling me. I don’t know much about the Fade, but it’s a realm of dreams and wild magic. According to Bellara, we are occupying a small bubble that obeys the usual rules of our realm more than the Fade’s rules. Doesn’t make my eyes itch any less in all this ambient magic.

They also claim that it is trying to answer our needs, so any desire we have has a chance to simply manifest. The logistics of this and what is created I will simply leave to Bellara and Neve to discuss. Otherwise, the grounds are simple: large courtyard housing most of the party so far, poorly stocked dining hall (which I will be fixing, we will not be eating magically conjured food), slightly bizarre library space, quaint but dusty music room, and a fairly well stocked infirmary. I will be avoiding the corner they set aside for Mr. Tethras. Apparently Rook likes to visit at odd hours to reminisce.

She seems to keep odd hours in general, though not surprising from a Crow. Given our conversation, she clearly has a dislike for the water. How she managed in Treviso with all the canals or in a coastal city like Salle… I suppose it's a mystery for another day. After my time in the Ossuary, I can’t claim to be a fan of the ocean either. It is, however, a useful tool to end a conversation or uncomfortable curiosity from her. She also seems extremely easily plied with Antivan coffee and food. (Understandable after a year away)

The group in general responds well to proper meals. Bellara has expressed interest in joining me while cooking (Dalish dishes are a novelty, so it will be nice to learn how to prepare real ones) though she’s a touch absent minded in the kitchen and prone to forgetting to come for meals in general. Harding will wander it at all times of day for small snacks between meals. Neve seems to forget to leave her room at all, but does seem to appreciate having food and drink brought to her desk. (Never let her make coffee herself, I sent her last concoction to Viago to be tested) If Rook catches a whiff of anything spiced from home, she’s like to simply appear at the table to wait for a sample.

It’s a bit novel to cook for a proper team, but enjoyable. It’s a good excuse to keep moving to chase off sleep as well. So far things are almost pleasant here, if I ignore the worried glances they think I don’t see. I suppose a healthy dose of worry and suspicion should be expected. So long as I keep Spite under control, this job should be peaceful enough in between work.

Requested Tags: @weaponizedvirtue

#who's ever heard of jinxing yourself-#HEY GUYS IT'S BACK sorry for the long break this chapter had hands and MonHun Wilds happened #I hope the idea of the memories lurking within the Crossroads would call out to Solas (and Rook) is a neat concept #and not too silly or annoying lmao (and also maybe a little Elgar'nan searching for him as a treat)#I like writing Lucanis and Renn chatting but sometimes I worry it's dragging on too long #I hope their interactions are enjoyable #I also like giving the Caretaker a lot more influence and powers than they have in the game #they're very neat and deserve to have a more noticeable role #anyways Renn is already crushing and doesn't see it yet so please point and laugh at her she deserves it #Rook #Renn #Renn de Riva #Lucanis #Lucanis Dellamorte #the Caretaker #Rookanis #writing #fanfic #my writing #Clipped Wings #Dragon Age #Dragon Age Veilguard #DAV

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