#Manfred did not disappoint

[postcardsfromheapside]

"Journeys end in lovers' meeting"

[thievinghippo]

So apparently Neve's personal quest 'The Cobbled Swan Case' starts completely different depending if you save Treviso or Minrathous. This is the first time I've saved Minrathous, and so I'm seeing an entirely new part of the quest

Bringing Emmrich along did not disappoint! Now I need fanfic of Emmrich taking Manfred to all sorts of artistic venues around Northern Thedas

(Or group outing for the Lighthouse!)

[lafaiette]

Based on this post by @wendynerdwrites: Solas treating everyone at the Lighthouse except Varric like complete morons, but becoming a puppy as soon as Lavellan shows up.

Spoilers for Veilguard!

Davrin was used to facing dangerous situations - the life of a Warden was not an easy one -, but no fight against darkspawn, no exploration of dark, damp roads could compare to the horror of sharing a place with the worst enemy of his people's lore.

Solas, the Dread Wolf, was... a cold man. No unnecessarily cruel like old Dalish legends described him, but certainly ruthless, ready to make sacrifices if it could help finally defeat the Evanuris.

There was a certain distance in his eyes and tone whenever he spoke with the new guests of his old base - that, and badly hidden rage, boiling just below the surface. He was haunted by the failed ritual, by Rook's intervention, by Varric's wound, by years of regrets.

Davrin's superiors had always insisted on a particular point: don't fight battles you can't win. Giant ogre making its way through a narrow tunnel? Run, or you will die under the rubble. Too many darkspawn surrounding you and your fellow Grey Wardens? Retreat, and plan a better strategy.

The Dread Wolf haunts your dreams, turning them into nightmares? Be respectful, da'len, do not enrage him further, and avoid him.

So Davrin did just that. He greeted Solas, but didn't dare ask him questions. He wasn't scared of speaking up in his presence, but he did so with an even tone, not really wanting to attract his attention.

Unfortunately, his being a Grey Warden was something Solas simply couldn't understand - or forgive? -, for the Dread Wolf once found him in the courtyard, taking care of Assan's feathers, and spoke to him without hesitation, without mercy.

"That is a beautiful creature."

Assan chirped happily - he was one of the few ones in the Lighthouse, Varric and Manfred included, who wasn't scared of Fen'Harel.

"Ah, thank you." Davrin nodded at him, then went back to brushing the griffon's feathers. "He's growing up so fast."

A moment of silence, then Solas spoke again, a thin veil of ice in his voice:

"I could not help but notice he fights with you."

"Well... Yes?" Davrin didn't turn back, increasing his focus on the least oily feathers, the ones that needed more care. "Grey Wardens and griffons fight together. We're supposed to build a bond."

"Why would you bring your beloved companion into battle?" Solas sounded furious, now. "Among the Blight and the darkspawn?"

"Because that's what Grey Wardens must do." Davrin did turn around this time, hoping his glare directed at Solas wouldn't condemn him to a week of nightmares. "It's not like Assan fights at my side for the whole time. He flies above the battlefield, and attacks only when I call him."

"Because he is still young. But he will join you once he is older, and ready, and your bond strong." Solas shook his head, distaste clear on his face. "And then he will risk getting blighted, poison in his veins."

"It's terrible, I know," Davrin agreed, for the thought of losing his friend in battle had kept him awake many nights in a row, "but it's a risk we must run if we want to fight the darkspawn."

"Did you ask Assan if he wants to run this risk?" Solas arched an eyebrow. "Or did you decide for him?"

"What-"

Solas walked away, uttering a "tsk", and Davrin was left there, open-mouthed, shock and pain making his head buzz.

Assan let out a sad squeak, bumping his beak against his cheek.

--------

"You are doing it wrong."

"O-Oh?"

Bellara turned around, the elven device she was tinkering with falling on the ground. Solas, standing under the doorframe, looked at it, then at her, and she shrinked under his cold, almost disappointed gaze.

"What... What I was doing wrong?"

Oh, she hated how thin her voice sounded, but she couldn't help it! He was one of her gods! The deity of lies, trickery, and rebellion, the creator of the Veil, the reason why a breach in the Fade had appeared in the sky ten years prior! He scared her!

"Everything." Solas narrowed his eyes, then walked away, heading to his original destination, leaving her there, fuming and confused, angry at him and herself, angry at the device and its secrets, angry at her mind for not being able to understand them.

She picked it up from the floor, but didn't tinker with it again, leaving it on the table, like a forgotten relic.

--------

Harding gently closed the door of Varric's room, so that he wouldn't wake. The wound was getting better, but he was still weak, frail. His fever had broken just the day before.

She almost jumped out of her skin when Solas walked out from the shadows just around the corner - seriously, wasn't a lighthouse supposed to be well-lit?

"How is he?" he asked, almost whispering, dark sorrow on his face.

Harding glared at him, torn between telling him to shove it and answering in a civil way.

In the end, her polite side won, prompted by the memories of their days in the Inquisition, when Solas would accompany the Inquisitor in all her trips and explorations.

He would often narrate beautiful stories at dinner, when the Inquisitor decided to stop at the main campsites where Harding was stationed. He was always kind with the Inquisition soldiers, and once he had complimented Harding's study of a map.

But he had hurt the Inquisitor, and now Varric, and she found forgiveness hard to find in her frightened, enraged heart.

"He's alive." She shook her head. "He's sleeping now, so come visit him later."

"And the wound?"

"It's healing, but I don't like the look of the skin around it. It's getting inflamed, I think." She sighed, making a mental list of all the plants in her room. "I might have something to help him, but I'll need to check and-"

"My magic may help."

Her rude side won over the polite one. Oh, how her mother would scold her if she knew.

"Your magic? I'm sorry, but your magic is what caused all this in the first place!"

She approached him, teeth gritted, fists clenched, and he didn't move, staring down at her with that cold pain that morphed his face into a pale, ancient expanse of regret.

"Your magic almost destroyed the world ten years ago! Your magic almost destroyed it now! Your magic maimed the Inquisitor-"

Something passed over his face - more pain and sorrow -, and she realized she had gone too far, for his next words were too controlled, too calm. He was about to explode just like she had.

"Enough, child of the Stone."

"How dare you!"

All the pain, fear, and shock Harding had packed away in her heart - like many jagged rocks she wanted pick and examine in peace in the quiet of the room - erupted from her. Her eyes burned.

"How dare you call me like that, after what my people lost!"

"Your people are not the only ones who lost everything."

"Well, at least we're not the ones trying to destroy this world to bring it all back!"

She stormed away, hoping her outburst hadn't caused Varric to awaken.

--------

"He's here!"

"What?"

Lucanis looked up from the pot of soup he was preparing for lunch, and lo and behold, the Dread Wolf was indeed there.

Spite respected him and feared him in equal measure. He was the only one who could speak with the demon in a real, coherent way, and make it listen.

Sometimes Lucanis envied him.

"May I help you?" he said, stirring the pot after adding more salt. "It won't be ready for one more hour, I think."

"Spirit, how are you feeling?"

"It's not a spirit." Lucanis spat out before Spite could answer. It was standing next to him, not slouching as usual, but standing tall, almost proud. "It's a demon."

"That's a matter of debate."

"A matter of- it's possessing me!"

"It does not wish to be with you just as much as you do not want it with you." Solas glared at him, before setting his eyes on Spite again. His expression changed, turning kinder, more patient.

"How are you feeling?"

"... Constricted."

Lucanis gawked at it.

"Oh, for... Constricted by what? I bring you everywhere!"

Solas ignored him. "Have you tried shaping the world around you? We are in the Fade here, after all."

"I have, but it doesn't listen! Not as long as I am..."

Spite growled and glared at Lucanis, who glared back, stirring his minestrone with more rage the recipe requested.

"I see. I promise I will try to find a way to help you. It might be difficult, due to your particular circumstances, but..."

"You want to help it?" Lucanis dropped the spoon into the pot, staring at the tall elf with disbelief. "Do you know what this fiend did to me while we were locked away in Renata's prison? What about helping me get rid of it?"

"It tortured you because it was tortured. It still is."

Solas' eyes looked cold even under the light coming from the fireplace. Lucanis realized he would probably never convince him, nor understand him.

"Bah!" He went back to his dish. "No wonder nobody here likes you, lupo."

Solas went away, quiet, his steps the lightest Lucanis had ever heard.

--------

"You remind me of an old friend."

Taash looked up from the axe they were polishing, hoping they had heard it wrong.

Solas was checking some supplies. They hadn't exchanged a single word when he had entered, and Taash was glad of it, because they really didn't know how to act around that guy. Plus, their mood wasn't exactly the best these days, after a hard defeat against a particularly stubborn dragon that had badly burned their leg.

But now, this.

"How old, exactly? Millennia old? Decade old?"

"Decade. Do you know the Bull's Chargers?"

"I heard of 'em. Mercenary group led by the Tal-Vashoth who joined the Inquisition, yeah?"

Solas nodded, still checking the contents of an armory chest.

"So... I remind you of that guy?"

"Sometimes, yes."

Taash blinked. And waited.

"Why? Just because we're both Tal-Vashoth?"

"No." Solas barely looked at them as he closed the chest. "He also deeply admired dragons."

"Oh. Sounds like a cool guy, then." Taash grinned, dipping the cloth into a pot of oil and starting to polish a new area of their axe. "I bet he'd have enjoyed fighting that dragon from the other day."

"Oh, yes. But unlike you, he would have definitely prevailed."

"Why, you little piece of shit!"

They rose, furious and embarrassed, cheeks on fire and axe ready to be used, but he had already left.

--------

"What is that supposed to be?"

Neve almost dropped her pencil.

"A map?" She narrowed her eyes at him. She had tracked him down in Minrathous, yes, but he had still escaped her, in a certain way. She hated that.

"Of course it is a map." Solas' tone was as icy as hers. He knew it was her fault Varric and Rook had found him. "But what are you drawing on it?"

"Possible places where the Evanuris may be hiding."

"Hiding?" He snarled, letting out a disgusted noise. "They are not hiding. They are preparing, setting the stage, gathering power-"

"One more reason to find them as soon as possible, then."

"-And those are not the places they would choose for such a purpose."

Neve felt her right eye twitch.

"Well, since you know them so well," Solas' face turned into a mask of pure outrage at that, "perhaps you could kindly share your opinion so that we may find them sooner."

"How am I supposed to know? Don't you think I would have already done something, had I known where they are?"

He scoffed at her meticulous drawings and walked away. She gritted her teeth, frustrated, then looked back at the map, feeling almost embarrassed.

She refused to erase her marks, though.

--------

Emmrich believed himself to be a patient man, but oh, every time the Dread Wolf was involved he could just feel his patience run thin.

"Manfred, could you please hand me that book? Thank you."

A groan, rattling of bones, and Emmrich smiled.

"Indeed, it is quite interesting. I will give it back to you as soon as I'm done with these notes."

He heard footsteps coming from the staircase, but he ignored them, too engrossed in his research. He heard Manfred prepare more tea, sure it was one of their friends come to visit, but then...

"This is wrong."

Startled, Emmric raised his eyes. Solas was looking at Manfred, watching him choose the right leaves.

"I assure you, Manfred's tea knows no equal. Everyone in the Mourn Watch loves it!"

Solas glared at him, jaw tight, and the very air around him seemed to quiver. Emmrich realized he had said the wrong thing, and slightly bowed his head.

"I apologize if my words offended you, Solas. Is there something I can help you with?"

"You are torturing this poor spirit."

Manfred groaned, shaking his head, and Solas scoffed, shocked by his words.

"This is not your place! You are not supposed to be bound to a corpse!"

"I would let Manfred make that decision."

"How could he do that? You already did it for him."

A pang of pain, like the sting of a thorn in his heart, then Emmrich took a deep breath.

"You are mistaken. This is what Manfred wants."

Solas couldn't hide his disgust, his contempt, as he stared at him. Then he turned to Manfred, sorrow and grief replacing his ire, and he shook his head.

"This is wrong," he repeated, and Emmrich wondered whether he was still talking about Manfred or everything else, the Lighthouse filled with strangers, the Evanuris running free, the world on the brink of destruction.

"I am sorry." Emmrich said, but Solas ignored him and left the room, his steps heavy like those of the corpses that roamed the Necropolis.

--------

"Tell him to stop!"

"Tell him to leave."

"I can't do this anymore, Rook, I really can't!"

"He criticizes everything. He's always there, judging us, and nothing is ever right!"

"Doesn't he have another base he can use? Or maybe we should move."

"Varric, perhaps you may talk with him?"

"Don't worry." Varric smiled from his bed, tapping his fingers on the heavy blanket Harding had found for him. "I sent words to a certain someone just a few days ago. She will join us tomorrow."

Rook looked at him, confused.

"Who are you talking about?"

Harding gasped, not sure whether to grin like a madwoman or scold Varric for his insane idea.

"You did not!"

"I did." Varric looked extremely satisfied, his smug smile almost hiding the gauntness of his cheeks. "Wear your best outfits, guys - the Inquisitor is coming to visit us."

--------

She stepped out of the main eluvian, and the first thing she did was smile at everyone. And everyone thought she looked young, very pretty, but also sad, and a bit tired.

"Inquisitor."

"It's an honor, Inquisitor Lavellan."

"My lady, thank you for coming."

They bowed to her, except for Harding who got a hug, and she told them all those formalities were not necessary.

"I'm not Inquisitor anymore." Her smile was small, but sincere and warm. "Please just call me Scarlet."

Bellara admired her prosthetic arm, and promised her to show her the special gauntlet she used in battle. Davrin tried not to stare at her bare face, but everyone had heard the rumors - how the Inquisitor had come back to Skyhold after a trip with her beloved Solas, face free from vallaslin, her eyes filled with tears for weeks, her lover staring at her from a distance with grief in his eyes.

"How is Varric?" Worry and sorrow made her look older. "May I see him?"

"Of course. This way."

She didn't try to hide her awe and curiosity as they led her through the Lighthouse to Varric's room. She devoured everything, eyes setting on every minute detail.

She gasped when she saw the murals in the library, and it was clear she was looking for traces of Solas, too. She searched for him with her eyes, hoping to see him appear from behind a door or around the corner.

The more they walked, heading to Varric's room, the more she grew disappointed. Rook hurried to reassure her he wasn't hiding, not this time.

"Solas went to one of his old hideouts to retrieve some useful parchments. He believes they could be useful to track down the Evanuris."

"Oh." She blushed, pleased.

"He should be here soon."

"I see."

She was shaking due to excitement and anxiety. Ten years had passed since their last meeting, after all. Rook and their companions led her gently through her lover's Lighthouse, hoping she could be the change they desperately needed.

She gasped when they brought her outside, in the courtyard, and she stared at the giant wolf statue that stood at its center, right above the Caretaker's workshop, for a long time.

The spirit observed her in silence. She saw it and smiled, greeting it with a bow of her head.

"You are finally here, after all this time," it said, and her smile widened, looking almost impish.

"I never give up."

She hugged Varric with all the delicateness, love, and care of a daughter. He held her true hand as she sat next to his bed, patting it between his calloused ones, and tried to reassure her that he was fine, that he was recovering nicely.

Guilt and pain never left her face as they spoke.

"Shy, it's not your fault." Varric smiled at her, while Davrin and Rook prepared the poultice he needed to apply on his wound twice a day. Emmrich checked his temperature and pulse, and used a spell to soothe his fatigue.

The others stood around, ready to help, wanting to spend more time with that famous figure, with the woman who had stolen the Dread Wolf's heart.

"I never should have sent you and Harding on that mission."

"I would have gone regardless."

"Me too!"

Scarlet sighed, shaking her head.

"Well, then." She tried to smile again. "Tell me everything."

Neve was just about to share her theories about the Evanuris' possible locations, when the door opened.

"Why are you all here? Is Varric alright-"

Solas froze, staring at the Inquisitor, mouth slightly open. He looked on the verge of a panic attack, thought Harding and Bellara; or a heart attack, thought Davrin and Taash; or perhaps even a stroke, thought Lucanis and Neve.

Emmrich thought he looked ready to crumple on the floor and cry.

Scarlet stared back, cheeks red, then she slowly relaxed and gently said:

"Hello, Solas."

He let out an odd sound, something between a sob and a croak. Then he ran away, and they all shared looks with each other, bewildered.

They had never seen him like that. So... vulnerable. Soft. Inoffensive.

"You really tamed him, Inquisitor." Lucanis snorted, earning himself a smack on the arm from Bellara.

"Don't worry, Shy, you will catch him soon enough." Varric said, smiling at the empty space where Solas had stood. "He can't run from you anymore."

--------

Rook gave the Inquisitor one of the best rooms of the Lighthouse. She retired there for an hour or so to recover from her long journey, and in the meantime the other guests went to the dining room to prepare dinner.

"Do you think he's visiting her right now?" Bellara asked, smiling brightly, for she found the whole situation pretty romantic. Harding sighed, shrugging.

"Who knows. Maybe? I don't think so, to be honest. He needs to recover from the shock."

"He's probably hiding in a broom closet." Lucanis snickered while cutting the vegetables for their salad. "Or rehearsing their next conversation."

"Assuming he'll be able to speak this time." Taash mumbled, making Neve chuckle.

The door opened, and Solas entered, looking almost haggard. His eyes scanned the room, and he didn't hide his disappointment when he didn't see the Inquisitor.

It was rare for him to join them at dinner. He would usually eat his food alone, either in his room or in the library.

And it was definitely rarer for him to help them set the table, but he did so this time, making sure to choose the best plates, and placing a bowl of berries and fruits at the centre.

"Don't we have any cake?" he asked, heading to the pantry and glaring at the shelves filled with cheese, bread, and ham. "Not even sweet tarts?"

"I don't think so." Lucanis said. He raised an eyebrow when Solas went back into the dining room, a storm brewing on his face. "Is it for the Inquisitor? I could bake something special next time."

"No." Solas narrowed his eyes. "I will take care of it."

Lucanis swore in Antivan under his breath, ignoring Spite's protests to shut up and let the Dread Wolf be.

The door opened again, and this time the Inquisitor entered. Solas' demeanor changed in an instant - one moment he was a surly, grumpy old elf, the next an excited, timid puppy, looking at her with big eyes, drinking every detail of her.

"Good evening." Scarlet greeted everyone with her warm smile. She blushed when she saw Solas, and repeated, softly: "Good evening."

"Good evening, vhen- Inquisitor."

Her blush deepened, and they stood there, awkward and shy, until Emmrich took pity on them and cleared his throat.

"Lady Scarlet, dinner is almost ready. Where would you like to sit?"

"Oh, I have no preference."

She walked around the table so her back would be to the fireplace and approached the first chair on her right, but Solas anticipated her: he pulled out the chair for her and gently pushed it back until she was comfortable enough.

"Thank you," she said, smiling up at him, and his face turned pink, his eyes the biggest puppy eyes the group had ever seen.

He stood next to her, probably not sure whether she wanted him to sit at her side or not, until she noticed his weird behaviour.

"Solas, are you eating with us?"

"I... Yes."

"Then you should sit." She nodded at the chair next to her, and her smile was gentle, but also a bit amused, and he hurried to do as she said.

"Of course."

He sat down, clearly happy she had given him permission to be at her side, and they were so busy dealing with each other's close proximity, that they didn't see the look Davrin and Neve shared, nor heard Taash's snort and Lucanis' "Maker, aiutaci".

"How was your journey?" Solas asked, fidgeting with the napkin and the cutlery, his tone apparently neutral, but not really.

"Long." Scarlet sighed. "I'm not used to traversing such distances anymore. And I'm not a twenty years old Inquisitor anymore."

"You are beautiful." Solas murmured, and everyone around them froze, studying Scarlet's reaction.

Her blush reached her ears, and she breathed out a soft, flattered laugh.

"Thank you."

"Oh my." Emmrich whispered to Harding as they poured the stew - her mother's original recipe - into each dish. "He is truly smitten."

"If anyone can stop him from being an absolute ass, it's her."

--------

"Aren't you a cutie?"

Scarlet laughed and giggled as Assan chirped and rubbed his body against her legs, looking for pets. She gave them to him, stroking his feathers, his head, and Davrin smiled proudly at the scene.

"I have never seen a griffon before. Are they all as beautiful as you, Assan?"

A negative chirp, the little rascal puffing out his chest, and Scarlet laughed again.

Solas was standing a few paces away, also watching them, awkward and quiet, yearning for her touch. Davrin glanced at him, and his previous fears suddenly evaporated.

"Pity Solas said he might die soon."

"What?"

"What?"

The Dread Wolf went to them, his strides long and hurried, panic on his paling face.

"I never said such a thing!"

"You said I am risking his life by taking him into battle, where the Blight is." Davrin gave him a flat, cold look. "And I know you're right. I know I'm being selfish, following centuries-old traditions that make little sense to anyone who isn't a Grey Warden. But this is part of our sacrifice, of the grief we must carry."

Solas took a deep breath, visibly torn between arguing with him and not wanting to do so in front of Scarlet. But she intervened, her voice calm and solemn, and Davrin realized she must have spoken like that during her time as Inquisitor, too.

"Once the Evanuris are finally dead and the Blight is no more, you won't have to sacrifice yourselves and your companions anymore."

She stroked Assan's head, cupping his muzzle and looking into his big eyes.

"There will be finally peace, and griffons will be able to fly alongside people without fearing any corruption. Isn't that right, Assan?"

He squeaked happily, and Davrin felt a rush of gratefulness and hope invade his heart. But what most shocked him was Solas' reaction: he stared at Lady Lavellan with big, awed eyes, his expression the most stricken and softest Davrin had ever seen.

"You are right," he said to her, and the Grey Warden blinked, not believing his ears.

"I know!" She grinned at her lover, then went back to petting the griffon, while the Dread Wolf watched her as an once blind man would watch the first sunrise of his life.

--------

"I'm sorry, lethallan, I fear I don't understand how this works yet." Bellara fidgeted with her many pouches. "But...! Let me know if you have any ideas! Two minds are better than one, after all!"

"I'm not an expert by any means." Scarlet shrugged, turning the little elven device in her hands over and over again. "I could ask Solas, if that's alright."

"Oh." Bellara's face fell. She couldn't help it. "That would be... I don't think he would agree."

"What? Why?" Scarlet looked genuinely surprised. "Nonsense, he loves sharing knowledge and helping people learn!"

Bellara felt her face shift into a grimace, the one she would make whenever she ate something sour or her research didn't proceed as smoothly as she liked.

"I'll go look for him- oh, Solas, you're here!"

Scarlet rose from her seat as he appeared from behind the open door - had he been nearby for the whole time, watching them, waiting for her to call him!?

"Could you please help us unlock this? I fear neither me or Bellara know how it works."

"Of course."

There was a warm, pleased smile on his face. Bellara shuddered, not used to such a sight. Scarlet shared some of their theories with him, and he listened, proud and patient, soft and sweet, before gently taking the device from her hands (their fingers brushed, and they both blushed) and showing her how to activate it.

"Just like that!?" Bellara spluttered, shocked by how simple it had been. "You just needed to press it like that!?"

Scarlet gasped, curious and in awe.

"Oh, it's beautiful, it opened like a flower! What does it do?"

"It's a catalogue." Solas used a bit of magic to further activate it. "A small portable archive."

Bellara bit her lips, trying to contain herself, then she acted, unable to stop herself: she snatched the archive out of his hands and stared at every minuscule detail, overjoyed and excited.

"This is incredible! I can't wait to read everything it contains!"

She beamed at the Inquisitor, admiring her even more than before.

"Thank you, lethallan! I was going crazy over this!" She turned to Solas, giving him a flat look, which he returned.

"If only someone had deigned to explain how it worked sooner."

Bellara left, but not before turning around to see Lady Scarlet fold her arms and scold Solas with a simple, but very effective look. Bellara could almost see his ears drop and his shoulders slump.

--------

Lucanis sighed, rolling his eyes.

"My lady, Spite wants you to know you're very beautiful."

Scarlet smiled. He had explained his delicate situation to her, and even though she couldn't see the demon, she acted as if she could.

"Thank you, Spite."

Lucanis frowned, then growled.

"No, you little piece of garbage, I'm not telling her that!"

He grunted when Spite hit him, making his nose bleed again. Scarlet gasped, babbling something.

"Are you alright!? What happened?" Then she turned towards the door and called out: "Solas, come quickly!"

Before he could understand what was happening, Lucanis felt the Dread Wolf's hand on his head. The pressure caused by Spite's outburst vanished, and he could finally think clearly again.

"Oh. That was..." Lucanis stretched his neck. Spite was still with him, of course, but it felt as if he were sleeping, taking a much needed nap.

Scarlet beamed at Solas.

"Thank you."

Solas blushed and returned the smile. Lucanis glared at him, and the lupo had the gall to ignore him, completely enraptured by Scarlet's smile.

"Stronzo figlio di puttana, grandissimo figlio di buona donna..." the Crow muttered for the whole evening while reading on his cot in the pantry.

-------

"Bull would have liked you."

Taash's mouth was set in a thin line.

"Because he liked dragons, too, right?"

"Not just that. He would have loved fighting with you against one. It's clear you deeply respect them, too."

Taash glared at Solas, who was pretending to check the weapons and armors, but was actually accompanying Lady Scarlet wherever she went.

"I couldn't defeat one the other day."

"Oh, that's totally normal!" Scarlet laughed. "We couldn't defeat one in Emprise du Lion the first time we tried either! It almost burned us to a crisp, and Bull and Cole had to carry me and Solas all the way back to camp."

She giggled remembering the scene.

"Do you remember that, Solas?"

He cleared his throat.

"I do."

She laughed again, the old memories of better days making her face glow, and Solas' face as he looked at her was so sickeningly sweet, Taash felt a shiver run down their spine. They had never seen the Dread Wolf act like that.

"Is that right?" they drawled, judging him hard after their last conversation - but he had eyes for Lavellan only.

--------

"Thank you, Manfred. Your tea was delicious."

Manfred rattled happily, and had he been able to blush, he would have done so. Emmrich smiled at the scene.

"He thanks you in return, my lady."

"You can understand him, then?"

"Oh, yes! We hold many interesting conversations. Manfred is an excellent herbalist and alchemist."

"That's wonderful." Scarlet smiled at the skeleton, but then her expression slowly turned into something more pensive, kind of melancholy.

"Are you... happy like this, Manfred?"

He nodded, the green gems of his eyes shining brightly under the lights of Emmrich's study. Scarlet studied him for a second, then her smile returned, filled with trust.

"That's wonderful. I wish you all the best - should you need anything, just let me know, alright? Maybe I could find a way to understand you, too."

Ah, Emmrich could see why Solas loved her so much.

Manfred gurgled a "thank you, my lady", and when Emmrich raised his head to the spiral staircase, he saw Solas watching them, pining and yearning, the rage from their old conversation completely gone, replaced by wonder.

--------

"What about the High Reaches you marked here? I feel like they might be a good hiding place, too."

Neve scoffed despite herself. She wasn't angry at the Inquisitor, of course, but at her lover and his dreadful lack of tact and good manners.

"Solas said the Evanuris aren't hiding, but gathering more power. And that they wouldn't do that in places like this."

She raised an eyebrow when she spotted him on the railing above the library. Maker, he really followed Lady Scarlet everywhere, like a lost puppy.

"Oh." The Inquisitor looked back at the map, worried and deflated. "He's probably right. He knows how they think better than we do."

"That's...!"

Solas walked down the stairs - no, almost ran, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Let me check, vhen- Inquisitor. Perhaps I was mistaken."

Neve's eyebrows reached her hairline.

"You mean here?" he asked, pointing at the range of mountains near Minrathous. His hand slightly hovered over Lady Scarlet's back, almost touching it.

"Yes. It's near Tevinter's capital, so I thought..."

"That is an excellent idea. Yes, they might be commanding their minions from there, close to their main objectives."

Neve snorted, not really angry and annoyed anymore. In fact, she was amused, and she realized she had found one more piece of evidence that proved how smitten, how sappy the Dread Wolf was when it came to Lady Scarlet.

--------

"How can you..." Harding sighed, took a deep breath, and tried again. "How can you look at him, talk with him, without feeling the urge to... to..."

She groaned, tossing a pebble into the pond in her room.

"I love him." Scarlet said, simply, softly. "I know you're very angry, Harding. I am, too. But despite all the rage, all the pain, I love him."

"I know."

Harding looked at their reflections in the shallow water. She looked grumpy, tired, a smudge of soil on her cheek. Lady Scarlet still looked a bit too pale and tired, but it was clear Solas' presence had rejuvenated her.

"If we survive all this..." Harding vaguely gestured at the air to indicate that whole mess. "What are you going to do, Inquisitor?"

"You mean...?"

"With Solas, yes."

"Oh, it's easy!" She grinned, suddenly very cheerful. "Once I save him from himself, the marriage is back on!"

She said that with so much sincerity, with so much candor and innocence, Harding couldn't help but cackle, falling backwards on the floor.

The Inquisitor laughed, too, but Harding knew she was serious, that that was indeed what she was planning to do. Always so bright and hopeful, looking for the best in every situation - one of the many reasons why people had loved her as Inquisitor.

They heard a sound just outside the door, and Scarlet sighed fondly, shaking her head.

"Eavesdropping on us? Really?" Harding said, but she was not really angry, just resigned and even amused. That stupid man couldn't stay away from Lady Lavellan for more than ten minutes, now that they were finally together again, with no more secrets between them.

"I think I'll go to sleep. Goodnight, Harding."

"Goodnight, Inquisitor." Harding gave her a lopsided, impish smile. "Sweet dreams."

--------

Someone knocked at her door, and she already knew who it was.

"Solas."

Scarlet smiled at him. Part of her wanted to drag him into the room and finally, finally hug him and kiss him after all those years, but she didn't wish to scare him. She could see and feel he still loved her, just as she still loved him, but she wasn't sure he was finally ready to let himself go.

"Vhenan." His voice was soft, a whisper carrying all his love and guilt and pain and adoration. "I missed you."

She swallowed her tears, but they spilled from her eyes all the same.

"Oh, Solas." Her real hand trembled as she reached out to cup his cheek. He leaned into her touch, sighing happily, never breaking eye contact. "I missed you, too."

"I want..." He took a deep breath. "There are memories scattered around the Lighthouse and the Crossroads. Scenes from my past. I want you to see them, all of them."

Eyes wide, she could just stare at him, at a loss for words. He rested his hand upon hers, clearly determined, fully resolved to finally share everything with her, the good and the bad, Fen'Harel included.

"I do not deserve your forgiveness nor your love." His hand on hers trembled, and a tear ran down his cheek. "But I love you, vhenan. I always will. If the world truly is going to end, if we won't survive this, I wish to die by your side."

He smiled, that sweet smile he had for her only.

"But should we survive this second catastrophe, too, I wish to walk with you wheresoever you desire, to share everything with you, to live with you. Not as Fen'Harel, not as a god of rebellion, but as Solas." His lips quivered. "Your Solas."

She sobbed, a luminous smile on her face. She nodded and a "yes" had barely left her mouth, when he stepped forward and crashed his lips against hers, holding her tightly. He peppered her face with kisses, smiling as well, their laughter and giggles filling the corridor, before scooping her up into his arms and entering the bedroom, their hearts the lightest they had ever been, soaring with hope and love.

[bloodflwrz]

These wall artworks in Carl Manfred's Mansion (theory and analysis)

Carl's mansion itself is an amazing location because I can't help but look and analyze every single piece of art scattered across the walls and floor. But these three objects in particular made me curious, I wanted to understand why they were specifically chosen to be placed on that wall. None of them are similar in any way, stemming from different cultures, eras, and material. So, what could they mean? I have an idea, sort of.

I believe each of these three pieces represent our main three protagonists, from left to right: Connor, Markus, and Kara. It represents their identity, their story, their journey. I did some research on these objects, using Google Lens to help point me first in the right direction of the possible inspiration or sources of the pieces, and afterwards my own reading using various art archives, articles, galleries, and museum sites. (I apologize for the wall of text 😅)

1st, Connor:

This seems to be a type of emblem, shield, a coat of arms. A coat of arms is typically adorned and used to represent an entity, and organization, an empire, government, army, or a noble family. Coats of arms are intellectual property, meaning, they cannot be worn just by anybody and flaunted just to feel special, you have to be deserving and privileged enough to display it. Wearing one is a sign of honor and respect, as well as servitude, and with it comes the duty of representing your status and regulating civil law, should you be in a position of policing, legal activity, or combat.

How does this relate to Connor?

Our beloved Android sent by CyberLife has been given orders by his makers, the great and all powerful company that produces every single Android we see in game. His duty is to assist the Detroit Police Department in investigating deviants. This coat of arms, particularly shaped like a shield or police badge, represents Connor's story as a prestigious and advanced prototype Android, with the capability to analyze clues at an inhuman rate and perform combat maneuvers like its child's play. He is not a force to be reckoned with, should he choose to stay a machine, in fact, he IS the law. He is the shield and representative of the company, CyberLife, and its only chance at finding the source of deviancy among their highest-profiting product, Androids. Without Connor, CL is headed straight into nothingness. He must not disappoint Amanda, his handler, and be the loyal subject that he was programmed to be. The infamous blue triangle logo found on every Android's uniform, a symbol of CL, is just a modern version of a coat of arms.

If you look from a Deviant Connor perspective, the police badge/shield-shaped coat of arms could also represent his loyalty to Hank and his protective demeanor. At almost every dangerous encounter alongside his partner, Connor is given the choice to either protect or ignore Hank's safety. Though his priority is to find the deviants, it is his personal mission to protect Hank from harm.

2nd, Markus:

A Marka/Dogon mask, originating from West African ethnic groups (Mali, Ivory Coast, Burkina Faso), particularly the Bambara and Dogon people (and other adjacent groups within the geographic location). This one was a bit difficult to research about, as many masks tend to have ambiguous origins and meaning, but from what I read, these masks tend to represent the coming of age, male initiation, journey into manhood, identity within a society, as well as religious association when used in rituals, sacrifice, and tradition. Some forms of these masks are used in rituals that have a connection with the dead, showing reverence and respect for those who passed on. Practicing remembrance and showing honor to their ancestors are large aspects of their culture with the use of these masks. The masks are also used in traditional healing practices, where they are believed to have powerful spiritual properties that can help cure illness and promote well-being. These handcrafted masterpieces are extremely important in these cultures and are often passed down by generations, signifying the importance of family and bond.

How does this relate to Markus?

These unique masks were primarily made and used by men in West African ethnic groups during the initiations of boys transitioning to men. Much like our Markus, the 'adoptive son' of Carl himself, Markus' innocence and youth is suddenly taken and he's forced into chaos, being harassed by protestors, threatened by Leo, almost permanently shutdown, thrown into the android scrapyard, and has to navigate the world by himself without his father to protect him. He has to mature and leave the comfort of his peaceful and comfy life, and come to terms with the cruelty of the world where Androids are subjugated to abuse and slavery. As a man, no longer a protected child, he takes the responsibility of protection and guidance for his people, symbolizing his 'coming of age' and transition into manhood. He is changed, has endured trauma, and must put on a mask to show that he is still strong and ready to live a life in his new role as a leader. As Lucy puts it, "You had it all, and you lost it all... You've seen hell and now hell lives in you."

Markus' story is closely related to death and the reverence of his 'ancestors': previous Androids who have suffered and died at the hands of humans. His goal as the leader of Jericho is to avenge those that they have lost and fight for those he can yet save. Every deviant's life is unique and special, their stories have meaning, even if they are treated like mere objects and servants by human society. Markus is willing to sacrifice his life in many instances to send a message to the humans, pass on his legacy to Jericho, and afterwards, all of society. His ability to convert is symbolic of a crying, healing, and inspiring message, reaching the furthest reaches of Detroit to those that need it the most. He wants to heal and save his people, bringing them biocomponents and thirium, expanding their sanctuary, arming his people (or family, at this point) with defenses, but in order to do that, he has to be willing to carry the burden of leadership.

3rd, Kara:

The skull of a bull, carved, broken, yet standing strong, thanks to kintsukuroi, aka Kintsugi. Kintsugi is the intricate Japanese art of repairing broken ceramic pottery using powdered gold/silver/platinum to put the pieces together, and display something in a different light, even more special than its original form. The purpose of Kintsugi isn't to hide or disguise the broken figure, but to instead emphasize its history, showing the life that the object had endured. The traditional Japanese philosophy of "Wabi-sabi", often associated with this particular art, describes that beauty can be appreciated even when it's broken and imperfect. There is beauty even in something modest and rough. Even a powerful and enduring beast, like a bull, can be broken down, but its story isn't over, its remains can still be repaired and appreciated if put together by a powerful glue such as gold, or perhaps... Love?

How does this relate to Kara?

Kara, the perfect housemaid Android for domestic work and childcare, is no stranger to being broken. In fact, our first scene with Kara is her being repaired and returned to Todd. Her memory has been wiped clean, she's been made anew, it's almost like nothing has happened, right? Over the course of her story, we learn that Kara has in fact been destroyed, broken, and abused by Todd. How do we come to the realization of her past? Thanks to Alice. Alice, in this case, is her glue, the mold between her cracks and shards. The bond and natural love between Alice and Kara is what keeps her together, alive. Because Kara is a protective mother-figure, the bull, or a cow, whatever you perceive it as, is a perfect symbol for her. Bulls are gentle in their nature, until a trigger sets off their instinct to fight and run you over with their body mass and horns. This is seen in her constant struggle to survive and seek shelter.

We come across two men in particular (out of her many escapes from danger) who set this instinct off, Todd and Zlatko. Both of them want to (or attempt to) break her, wipe her memory clean, and take away the beauty that is her caring nature and deviancy. Just like how mankind has domesticated cattle for their own benefit. Alice brings her back every single time. No matter how much of her body and memory is stripped away, she is back and stronger than before. Kara is a survivor. She can cut her hair, remove her LED, wear ragged clothes as a disguise, but deep down it's still Kara. Her story is shown in her battle scars and changes in her appearance, just like the golden streaks of broken pottery. As long as she has the protective instinct and love for Alice, it'll always be Kara. This is the beauty symbolized by Kintsugi and Wabi-sabi.

---

If you made it this far, thank you! I'd love to hear your opinions and comments on my analysis. This might all be a stretch, but seeing as how the game is littered with references, themes, and symbolism across many scenes, these artworks seemed to standout for a reason, at least to me.

[lesabear]

Thoughts on Veilguard

TLDR: If empty calories were a video game it would be Dragon Age: The Veilguard. The game is a pleasant enough - if generic and unremarkable - action RPG that basically abandons the themes and feel of the previous games, resulting in a bland story that largely avoids dealing with anything that might remotely cause conflict in the party or force the player to consider anything other than surface level good-bad morality.

If this is the direction they're taking DA, then I think I'm done with the franchise. If I wanted a generic, thematically uninteresting, action RPG there are so many other games to play.

Spoilers in my detailed thoughts below

The good:

It looks very nice - I wish I could have spent even more time exploring the world areas.

Very few bugs or technical issues unlike Andromeda (or most new games in general). I had a few minor issues near the end but overall was very impressed.

Manfred and Assan are great secondary companions. If anyone knows where to find a skeleton and/or griffon friend please let me know.

I quite like Emmerich, Davrin and Bellara and romanced the latter two and (Generally) really liked both. Disclaimer: I tend to have different tastes than the majority of DA fandom when it comes to romances. I expected to have mixed feelings on Bellara because of my issues with Bioware and their cutesy awkward naive/inexperienced female characters but I thought they (mostly) got her right.

Some interesting lore stuff, though I quibble with how it was delivered at times. Still was fun to get a lot more info on the Evanuris, Solas, Mythal, the Titans, etc. And there's also some fun lore stuff in the codices, although again I question whether that's the best way to deliver them.

The final mission is a lot of fun and the clear standout quest other than Weisshaupt maybe. Both are a lot of fun and combine multiple story elements with good gameplay for a satisfying experience.

Combat is engaging although it does get repetitive once you "solve" it. I did a lot of grinding to complete content though so that might be my fault.

Solas is very Solas-y in the game and the highlight of the antagonists by far. I wish there had been more of him and I say that as someone who finds the Solas fandom somewhat exhausting at times. He was far more interesting and compelling than the "even-worse" gods and the fact he's a fuck up who keeps making things worse because he's an egotistical fuck-up who thinks he's the only one that can fix things was is both tragic and fun.

Neve-Lucanis and Taash-Harding are both very cute. I actually think they might be my favorite companion romances off the top of my head (Tali-Garrus does absolutely nothing for me, and I don't even romance either character with my Shepard).

The not good

Why is the Inquisitor wearing pajamas.

Bioware can fuck off for making me pop about a zillion blight pimples. It's really not that much fun after the first 1000

Extremely disappointed with how sanitized the narrative is. There's little attention paid to major facets of the DA universe that are directly relevant to the plot (religion, Tevinter slavery, racism toward elves etc.) and you also get stuff like the Crows now being far lighter of an organization than they were previously.

Just as an example - both Davrin and Bellara touch on what it means to have their gods be the villains but they're just topics for conversation and there's no meaningful impact (especially as the bad guys rely on Antaam and Venatori forces - oh and generic mercenaries). The Dalish are just there (or victims of the bad guys) for the most part. I've read comments from Bioware that confirm this but it seemed obvious Bioware wrote themselves into a corner with making Elven gods be the main antagonists, as you then run into the issue of having the elves not only already be a persecuted minority but also be worshipping evil gods - but instead of writing around it they just avoided dealing with it and acted like it's just the Dalish getting a big win by not joining them.

Speaking of enemies, lots of bland dialogue from the non-Solas big bads. And the Venatori/Antaam/mercenaries gave off major "Cerberus in ME3" vibes - nameless, faceless goons thrown at you in waves that got very boring very quickly.

The way a companion gets hardened because of a choice early in the game is mostly meaningless unless you wanted to romance them. People getting mad about that happening are being ridiculous - if anything the game is too afraid (as usual) to have it actual matter beyond them briefly being upset before moving on.

One of the big choices is to decide whether to protect Treviso or Minrathous when both are attacked by dragons, but it happens so early you might lock yourself out of quests without realizing it. Worse, the ensuing mission is incredibly short and boring (basically a couple of packs of generic enemies and then a very brief dragon fight)

Why is the Inqusitor wearing pajamas.

Why can't I be a mean/"bad" Rook? Even the jokey responses feel super tame compared to previous DAs (let alone the borderline assholish purple hawke). Basically you're only allowed to be slightly different variations of a heroic figure.

While the companions are all nice they all top out at "I like them", with none matching the story or emotional peaks of previous Bioware games. Emmerich comes closest (especially if you account for Manfred) but there's just enough meat to him.

Disappointing romances compared to previous Bioware games(especially but not limited to Lucanis.). Not a ton of depth dialogue wise and at times it feels like they put more time into the companion romance than the Rook version (this time I am definitely talking about Lucanis).

Speaking of which, Lucanis was the biggest disappointment of the companions. I didn't want a Zevran clone but you have a hardened assassin possessed by a demon who (if you choose not to save Treviso, which cuts off a lot of his content) just drinks coffee and likes Neve and uh....

Completely forgettable soundtrack which is a major bummer after previous installments. Also, while I didn't have many technical issues, the music not always playing was one of them (although maybe it doesn't really matter given the lack of quality!)

Bad to horrendous incorporation of previous DA story which was also incongruous with the general tone, especially with the handling of the Inquisitor and the treatment of southern Thedas (especially if you get the Emmerich and Harding picnic conversation at an awkward time like I did.)

Lots of disappointing cameos but especially from my Pirate Queen/Wife from DA2. Isabela's hat is indeed very nice but what is that outfit? And I get they didn't want to deal with too complex a world state but man was it a bummer to see her basically reset after everything her and Hawke went through in my main DA2 playthrough.

Why is the Inquisitor wearing pajamas.

What did they do with Harding? Why did she basically get Dagna's story, even if Titan lore is interesting? She's such a nothing character in this game which is such a weird choice given that she's clearly there because they know fans like her.

The "Actually Varric was dead all along" did nothing for me. He barely shows up in game anyway and the weird framing of every appearance and the fact no one other than Rook ever interacts with him gave it away (at least partially)

[jainydoe]

Misdirection, Ch. 2

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

They meet for coffee and she dents his car.

Things have gotten worse since he’d arrived at The Crossroads. 

Firstly, the blazer he’d planned on, a lovely wool in moss and taupe, was at the dry cleaners - Manfred, finger painting, etc. - which meant having to go with his second choice, which was really less coffee-shop and moreso cocktail-bar, he felt like a fucking waiter, and the one t-shirt slash casual thing he did own was something Manfred had made in his daycare class and Emmrich was having it framed, anyway, and on that note, actually, he wasn’t about to wear something that said I have a child and love him so so much, also he’s a relic of my failed marriage and would you wanna be his new mommy? Sign here. 

He wasn’t overthinking things. Maybe just the outfit, though. She wasn’t going to care what he wore, so long as it said I can afford you. The drive was nearby enough, in the area of downtown riddled with the local youths. He peaked in the rearview mirror at the rotting ghost of a reflection looking back. It almost said Hey old-timer, drive all the way to the playground for some fresh, young poontang? Pervert. 

As if watching from afar, he could see his gaze ricocheting off every corner of the shop, on the two women studying, the boy with headphones, the barista, the other barista, the woman leaving the bathroom. None of them said I’m here for sex but then again, neither did he. He hasn’t communicated an air of I’m-fuckable-and-sociable-and-laughable-and-loveable in years, but doubts his attire is lending itself to that fact. 

I’m dressed like this is a goddamn job interview.

He’s acting like it, too. Going over the important facts. Things to remember. Don’t bring up your kid. Don’t mention what you do for a living. Say you’re in banking or something equally obnoxious and uninteresting. But also, be the most interesting man she’s ever met. Who happens to work in banking. Don’t compliment her too much. Women hate that. Well, Johanna hated that. So maybe some women still like it, actually. Don’t overcook. Compliment her medium-rare. As for dialogue with others, he’d been preparing himself for the traditional No, I’m not her father, no, I’m not her boyfriend, either, and rehearsed this script as he grabbed his burnt cappuccino and took a seat at a table far from the rest of the crowd. Somewhere by a window where the shadows won’t be too unkind. 

He doesn’t check his watch for a while, because he’s an early type of guy and this gives him time to briefly flip through the book that had made itself comfortable in his work bag for weeks. It’s unrelated to his job. It’s about a woman’s journey abroad and yoga and yogurt. It will, most certainly, add nothing to his life. It’s for pleasure. Today is about pleasure. That, in itself, almost turns him on. Then the sun gets brighter and his coffee is finished and he sees it’s been forty minutes. He even double-checks their messages. Reads over them a third time for good measure. So. That’s probably a bad sign. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved. But this allows him to go home and grant himself an early glass of wallowing-wine. He’ll even leave a trail of clothes behind him, all leading to a hot bath where he can let himself stew and wrinkle and be comforted by the fact he didn’t even have to really put himself out there, at all. He was daring and exciting and that was enough for him, thankyouverymuch. He tells himself the gaping disappointment in his chest is about not getting fucked and that’s all. Another thing to ignore. Farewell, dear Rook, I wish thee some other loaded shmuck. He’s unlocking his car, and he hears it before he sees it. A chipped Suburu, a SAVE ARLATHAN bumper sticker, something fast paced and loud and probably feminist blaring through the windows. She parks to the right of his Lexus and tries opening the driver’s door when it crushes against his, offering a sliver of room and just enough damage to ruin a day.

“FUCK.”

It’s her. Bold and italicized. He’s stunned as she drops her face into her hands, and he can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying. And as if watching himself from afar, unable to debate, he glides slowly towards her, clearing his throat as he nearly hides behind his trunk. 

“Ahem, are you alright?”

“NO.” She huffs, hand on her forehead, looking anywhere but him. “No, I’m late for this, this thing, so I was in a hurry and that’s why I dented your car. At least I think it's your car. Sorry about that. I’m sorry.” Her face scrunches in the way all do when trying to hold it together. She looks up, and he can see she’s wearing mascara and blinking faster and faster. “Um, you may as well know it’s gonna take me a while to pay for the damage, I, uh,” she laughs and he can hear her throat bubbling, “I was gonna maybe find a way to help take care of money stuff today but, uh, me being late and all, doubt that’s gonna happen.” 

He nods. “Job interview?”

“Something like that.”

He curves his hip around the back of the car, resting it against the side, arms crossed. She’s quite tragically lovely. Not a damsel, but unabashed in her weakness. Not dissimilar to those crucified. He imagines her weeping in linens, then imagines her weeping on his eiderdown comforter, then laughing, then sighing, then. He wants to boil himself in hot tar for seeing a pretty girl and immediately comparing her to something holy. But that only makes him think of her on her knees. Needy and apologetic.

Please, God, don’t let it look like I’m trying to be suave. “That’s a funny coincidence. I’ve been here for almost the last hour waiting to, uh, interview someone, myself.” 

She stops staring at his car and switches to his arms. At his car, again. Then in his eyes. He can’t hear anything but his own breath. “You’re interviewing someone?”

“Something like that.”

She bites the corner of her mouth, looking him over then extending her left hand. It’s small and a bit rough, completely unlike his. It’s enchanting. She’s enchanting. He wonders if the rest of her is rough, too. Or if some parts are silk. Or crushed velvet. She tries on a smile, “I’m Rook.”

“Emmrich.”

“Charmed.”

“Completely.”

He doesn’t seem to be mad. In fact, it’s almost as if he’s merry. She sits in a booth by a window, chest shivering and fingers drumming as she waits for him to return with her order. You don’t have to get me anything.Oh, are we not on the same page regarding this arrangement, he’d whispered, something passive and devious behind his veneer of propriety. 

Figures, she’d fuck up his car, be late and begin the date by crying. Maybe, before it ends, she should take a shit on the hood of his dented Lexus and thank him for solving her daddy issues. He already finds her, well, enough of something to continue this date. May as well seal the deal.

“Your coffee.” He slides her cup next to her hand, along with a small, cardboard box. “Almond croissant. They’re quite lovely.” She lifts the tabs, taking a look at an over-powdered, massive, monstrosity of a pastry. It’s perfect. “Tell me, do you usually take your coffee black, or were you being modest?” He’s somewhat direct. It’s appreciated. “Maybe a bit of both.”

“Hm. Then what is it you desire?” He’s a relic from another time. She looks at him. Seriously, this time. He’s wearing a vest on a Saturday morning and shaves his mustache into that vintage style. He smells like the expensive type of cologne they don’t sell in department stores and on his hands are metals and jewels that outshine her. It doesn’t make sense. They don’t make sense. As if watching herself, she sees a girl slumped into cheap vinyl, unsure and uncomfortable. A scrappy wench with scars and other mistakes holding onto her body, across from a man. A man who has his shit together. A man who is studying her, as if circling, smacking a rod against the parts of her that need work and lifting her chin with the end, a challenge on his lips. He’s a man who hasn’t brought up the fact that she’s a trainwreck, and instead, bought her a coffee and croissant and doesn’t mention the fact she already owes him money. Does he really find her daring?

This is an interview. This is a job. Think of old movies. Of Audrey Hepburn. Of Hedy Lamar. He’s got something dark in his ensemble, a certain je-ne-sais-quoi that says he’s whacked it to Vampira. Elvira. She can be his Mistress of the Dark. 

“Perhaps I desire whatever it is you’re willing to offer.” It’s close to the right answer. He looks her up and down. As if deciding something. She opts for honesty and crosses her toes in hope. “I don’t really know what I want.” 

It seems to work. He props his knuckles under his chin, leaning closer and quirking up a smile. It’s small and just for her. There’s something that feels good about that.  “I suppose we’re in the same boat, then.”

“You’ve never taken on a mistress before?”

He coughs a bit and grows pink at his edges. “Not like this.”

“So you’ve had a mistress, just one you didn’t pay for.”

“Oh, I paid.”

“Money?” “Among other things.” “Reputation? 

“Sanity.”

“She sounds like a real peach.” That makes him grin. Maybe he likes cheek. “Can I ask you something daring?”

“I don’t see why not.”

She leans forward. Don’t sound like you’re lying. Because you’re not. But he might think you are. “You’re a real good-looking guy. Maybe you got burned by someone way back, sure, but you definitely don’t strike me as the type to need to pay for companionship. Not that I’m not interested, I am.” He gets pinker. Fuck it. “I just, well, look, okay, I gotta know now. What’s wrong with you?”

His face scrunches up in the way all do when trying to hold back laughter. Perhaps she is charming. “Maybe I’m just someone interested in a professional.”

A professional. She’s never been a professional anything. But he doesn’t know that. “Well, then you’re barking up the right tree.” She crosses her arms and hopes it comes across proud instead of haughty. Like a bigshot CEO in Balenciaga and real furs and not a girl in a boa with a tiara that says BIRTHDAY QUEEN. 

“Of course. What do you say to dinner tomorrow night? A more ample opportunity for us to assess compatibility.” 

She shakes his hand and calls it a deal. Finishes her coffee, her croissant, and for good measure, wipes the powdered sugar from her cheek and brushes it against his lower lip. A promise. A dare. An invitation. She hopes it leaves him with an image: a brave young girl with sweet lips and a sultry attitude, and it’s this hope that she banks on as she revs out of the parking lot, breaking too quick and fumbling too fast to call up the only person who can help in a time like this. 

Her voice on the other line is melted butter. “Rook, what a lovely surprise!”\

“Neve? Okay. I’m seducing an older man tomorrow night and I think he’s taking me to a fancy restaurant and I don’t know what I’m doing. So.”

Her laugh echoes through the car. “I’ll be at yours in twenty.”

The icewoman cometh.

[theydragon]

Nostalgia Trip|| Taash/Rook

🏆: Tested for fall damage and survived in the Lighthouse. or rather being an adventurous mountain goat and falling on our local Qunari.

The lighthouse at first glance seemed laid out pretty directly. Each room had a clear path despite the floating debris and everything opened up a little more once you solved its various puzzles. But this place was still hiding secrets or so you thought. You'd spotted an old chest thrown up on a ledge, a serious of vines growing down the wall leading up to it. After some testing here and there you managed to find a few good foot holds that brought you to the more dense parts of the vines. Refusing to look down, you knew better than to do that from venturing on the many ziplines in Treviso, you took the next steps to reaching your prize. Putting your full weight on the fines, but keeping a foot stretched to your previous foot hold, you felt secure though still trusted this minimally. Vine's were plants and, though dense, any plant could only hold so much weight before they snapped in half.

Moving quickly, but minding your hand placement, you pulled yourself up to the ledge without destroying the lattice work of vines. You could feel the gaze of the caretaker at your back, probably equally annoyed and curious about your intentions if you had to guess though you could never be sure with them. Whatever, you'd made your climb and had loot to get. Opening the partially rusted chest you were saddened to just find some random trinkets and not even enough gold to buy a coffee. Regardless of how disappointing your bounty was you'd still gotten something and had a little fun climbing all the way up the Lighthouse. Now there was the matter of getting down which for some reason had not occurred to you at any point in the journey. Looking down you saw the far away steps leading up to where Manfred stood, the little skeleton looking no different from an ant due to the height. You quickly realized the footholds you'd used earlier were entirely invisible now and how the winds, where every they came from, blew the vines you weren't entirely sure they'd hold your weight well if at all. If you could shuffle to the front of the building you might be able to grab onto one of the large ribbons of green that hung on its front, eventually moving yourself to the landing between the stairs or just dropping ungracefully near by.

Your steps were sure but the Lighthouse had other plans. Right as you would make your first movement it shifted harshly which caused you to slip. A small squeak left your mouth as suddenly your were in free fall. There was a hope the Caretaker would do something to catch you or maybe even will the Lighthouse to shift again and knock you into a less harsh descent but no aid came. Plummeting to your death after doing something admitted stupid was a way to go. You'd had preferred to die in battle or maybe even eaten by a dragon, a totally not blighted one of course. Something more epic to end your story than splatting in front of Manfred but alas, the cards were not in your favor it seems.

Just as you accepted your demise, the ground quickly approaching, you were stopped. Okay you were less stopped and more caught, the clink of settling metal and a grunt being all you got to indicate what or who had saved you. Opening your eyes you were met face to face with the ever un-amused looking Taash. There was the shock you'd been caught, a bit of pain in your back from the impact, and more shock that Taash was still standing after catching you.

"How did you..." the words drifted out of your mouth as you were readjusted in their grasp. You knew you weighed something, you were entirely one hundred percent sure, but how Taash just moved you around felt like you weighed nothing. They even seem to shrug off any sign of impact, having absolutely zero reaction to you landing on them.

"I was going for a run and saw you fucking around," The red hue of shame and embarrassment crossed your features as they spoke. Everyone was so quiet you had assumed they went to sleep, the sky around the Lighthouse looking more like dusk giving everyone a good chance to have some more normal sleep, so that no one would interrupt you while you climbed. It didn't occur to you some of the more active members of your team would probably wake up early or only be taking naps. If Taash was up Davrin probably was as well which meant there was a very tiny window before your embarrassment reached peak levels. "Decided to watch in case you fell, worked out didn't it?"

"Yes it did, you can put me down now." Attempting to wiggle out of their grasp you were met with a small laugh and absolutely no movement on their part. "Taash come one, put me down."

"So you can go back up the wall and fall again?" Showing absolutely zero signs of setting you down you decided to settle, their arms relaxing as you did. "There we go. Come on, you can help me make breakfast before Lucanis gets up and takes over the kitchen."

"Is that my punishment?" Huffing you didn't fight them as they started carrying you over to the kitchen. Assan was already outside and gave you happy little squawks as you passed by. This was also confirmation that Davrin was in fact awake, the griffin wouldn't leave his bed otherwise, and you'd gotten very very lucky he'd not stuck his head out. Taash would pick on you in a more "oh what happened last time?" way. You'd be entirely fine most of the time unless you tried doing something similar to a previous ill thought out idea. That's when Taash would pounce and turn into the nagging older sibling, as would Harding, but Davrin? Davrin wouldn't let you live it down for the next month. He'd bring it up when ever seemed appropriate, and sometimes when it wasn't, and the whole team would know just exactly how stupid you'd been. Davrin was the rowdy bro who never let you truly forget your stupid choices, Taash was the one who hung it over your head when they thought it was needed. Both were annoying but in this case you preferred the dragon hunter.

"Nah, but we can talk punishments later if you want." There was a bit of amusement in their voice as well as flirtation. Something turned in your stomach and they snorted. They were fucking with you, they had to be. "My mother would make me do reflecting exercises when she caught me doing something stupid or I got hurt. It didn't do anything but make me feel bad but that's probably just me. So you get to help me cook, think about your actions, and I don't tell everyone you fell off the roof; sound like a deal?"

"I feel like there's something else," squinting at them as you two entered the dinning room-kitchen space you let out the accusation. Taash didn't really like people in their way when cooking. Bellara sat nicely to the side, asking questions while Taash sometimes passed her something to cut up or mix. Davrin got kicked out of the kitchen area after stealing too many pieces of food and almost having a knife lobbed at him. It was just how things were and Lucanis wasn't very different. You had been tasked specifically to help, not sit pretty on a stool, help. "The only person you let 'help' is Bellara."

Placing you down on the table Taash started buzzing around the kitchen, the tiny space looking even more tiny with them in it. A fire had been started before you were even addressed, still sitting on the table as you weren't sure if you were supposed to move and also didn't want to get in the way.

"Spite wont wake Lucanis up if you go get stuff out of the pantry," ah, so that was it. They were abusing Spite's favor of you to get ingredients, that tracked. "Also I like you company so."

You cooed at them teasingly which got you a loud groan as they started prepping what ever meal they were making, refusing to look at you as they did so. It wasn't that much of a burden to sit around and help Taash cook but what type of friend would you be if you didn't give them a little bit of shit about it? Staring at their back in the firelight was a sight but what drew you more was getting to watch them while focused. Taash was almost an entirely different person when they were focused or as they called 'working'. When hunting dragons or fighting it was kind of hard to really see and appreciate it. It wasn't exactly easy to go into their room while they worked out without getting roped into doing something or a bit of...um... suspect comments that left you leaving the room beat red and flustered more often than not. Cooking was one of the easiest to watch high focus activities of theirs but it was still rare to see. Lucanis normally did dinner while Bellara handled breakfast and sometimes made something for lunch, the two swapping off when ever they deemed fit. Harding only made food for herself and didn't really 'cook' but more so threw stuff together in a bowl and ate it. Emmrich had small meals but otherwise let the others dote on him, Davrin was down for whatever, and Neve had to be told to eat more often than she actually ate. Taash had voiced they were fine cooking when Bellara or Lucanis didn't want to, even reassuring Emmrich they could make vegetarian stuff for him without a lot of spice, but they'd maybe cooked once or twice. It wasn't like there was any issues with Taash's cooking. Everything was pretty good though it was sometimes on the more spicy end as they couldn't taste it otherwise. What made sense to you, though you'd never voiced it, was they probably weren't used to cooking for this big of a group. Taash had lived with their mom their entire life and rarely strayed from her side for too long so you just assumed they'd be more used to meals for two or one than ten (counting Manfred and Spite, the later who sometimes threw a fit if a plate wasn't made for him while the former just pouted in the corner). "Can you go get eight eggs?" They called out over their shoulder, the smell of herbs starting to waft around the space. With a silent nod you hopped off the table, not questioning the large amount of eggs as you'd heard Davrin pop off about 'protein' too many times to count.

Stepping into the pantry you were surprised to find Lucanis asleep facing the wall, the little lamp he had turned low but still on. Using your shirt to carry them you counted out eight eggs, a little grumble pulling you from your work.

"Rook?" That was Spite, the inflection being enough to tip you off to it.

"Go to sleep Spite I'm just getting eggs." If they both were tired this would usually be enough to make him grumble then go back to sleep, but sadly that was not the mood he was in.

"I smell. things."

"I'm making breakfast go to sleep."

"Want. eggs." It wasn't as forceful as he usual demands but was actually rather sad sounding, like a little kid that just wanted to spend time with their parents or siblings.

"If I make you a little bowl of eggs will you let Lucanis sleep?" Looking over you saw the body of Lucanis sat half way up, the glow of Spite very present in his eyes. No matter how much this happened it never got less unnerving and you were sure both of them knew that but much really couldn't be done.

"Yes! Yes!" Nodding his head rapidly Spite sounding like the goblin he was but didn't move from the cot.

"Okay, stay there and I'll bring you some when they're done." He made a small sound of glee in response to you words, the happy hiss continuing for a moment after you left the room.

Returning to Taash you found them prepped with a bowl that already contained various seasonings and spices. They were making scrambled eggs or an omelet, you wouldn't need a bowl otherwise.

"What took so long?" You'd thought they would have been able to hear Spite, Lucanis' 'bed' being only a foot away from the otherwise of the wall.

"Spite wants some." Rolling their eyes Taash took the eggs from you, placing them in a clean bowl and counting them before returning to their work.

"Of course he does," Cracking the eggs as they spoke you couldn't miss how absolutely tiny the eggs looked. Qunari were big but Taash was just bigger, beefy even. "I usually make extra to bribe him anyways so it's fine, still enough for both of us."

"Both of us?" It didn't occur to you that you were included in breakfast. You thought you were just helping and then being dismissed, not being made breakfast after you almost died.

"Yeah?" Taash reflected your confusion, beating the eggs together until they were all mixed and broken up. "Do you not want breakfast? I can go give your portion to Davrin if you don't."

"No no no, If you're offering I'm gonna eat it I just thought this was all for you."

"Who eats eight eggs??"

"I don't know! You work out all the time so I assumed you needed a lot of eggs!"

Obviously amused by you Taash was taken over by a flurry of giggles, having to set the bowl down as they almost keeled over. Letting them laugh it out you stayed silent, stewing while leaning on the counter. Eventually they stopped and prepped a pan, a cheesy smile still on their face.

"You're cute," The comment caught you off guard, your face flushing in response which only earned you a smaller more affectionate laugh. "You okay with scrambled eggs?"

"Yeah thats fine," fell out of your mouth without thinking. Taash made a face you could only describe as pleased cooking with a bit of attitude in their step. It took no time for breakfast to be done, you diligently running a bowl to Spite before running back to the table. Before you could grab your own bowl large hand found the top of your head, stopping you in your tracks.

"Sit, I'll bring you a bowl." Despite being said as casually as humanly possible it felt anything but. The hand on your head ruffled your head before heading off, leaving you to patiently sit fully aware the cause of the growing warmth in your stomach and fluttering in your chest was equally aware of your current state as you were. You'd have to ask Neve about perfume after this or maybe Bellara. Bellara was used to running around the woods and knew how not to attract animals to her so what ever she wore may help you avoid the hyper sensitive nose that was currently serving you breakfast. On the other hand Neve might be able to recommend perfumes that could be used for revenge, hopefully confusing Taash if nothing else. Right now you would have to settle for enjoying your eggs and ignored the smug and pleased glances from the Qunari who sat across from you.

[mogwaei]

No cause I 100% agree about the disappointing lore direction of veilguard. It's a beautiful game (and I'm def gonna play when I get a computer that can handle it, esp for that baddie Emmrich and the overall luscious hair physics I've seen so far), but after all the deep twisting lore build up of the previous games, DAV just felt a little glossed over and shallow in terms of everything that makes a DA game a DA game. Skin deep romance, lack of meaningful choices or sometimes any choices for that matter, and unsatisfying answers to the legacy of questions and theories that the series bore for decades.

(Personally your Ouroborous is my canon continuation at this point and DAV itself is an admittedly very pretty but glorified character creator lol. And besides, your skill and dedication to your art and storytelling practically makes you just as official as any BioWare exec in my eyes 💞💞)

ASFHFKJHGJ (thoughts under cut)

I have WAY too many thoughts about this game as far as the lore goes, but I am not articulate about it the way some others are (Corseque/northgalis on here and twt has pretty much nailed all of my sentiments though). I'm also very careful about what I say because it's annoying to me when people take Very Subjective thoughts personally and get mean about it. That being said, I've read fic that had better lore...and like, I'm proud of mine too! I don't think there's anything wrong with being proud of something you've poured your whole self into, but I feel like I have to say that because someone on twt got offended😂

NOW:

They had me fooled in the beginning! I was super excited and surprised at a great number of things that they touched upon. One of my bigger excitements was the Forgotten Ones + the Forbidden! LIKE HOLY SHIT!!! I can't believe they're more than vague codexes! So there I was waiting for the revelations to get more intense and blow my fuckign mind as I progressed the game, I'm waiting for that detailed lore and insight into who and what they were like...and well, I was a let down. And then it kept happening. A lot, with other things. Many started off strongly and then either didn't go anywhere or stayed superficial? Or the lore was simplified and made into something not deep at all...or deeply unsatisfying lol. Lots of "oh that was almost good!" I'm sort of repeating everything you said, but basically I'm just trying to say I wholeheartedly agree -- also about all the choices, the cutting down of our worldstates...all of it. :(

But YES! The game is achingly gorgeous, I'm a huge fan of the art direction and style. I also adore all the companions and enjoyed them a lot! I think that their quests also suffered a bit of writing issues like the lore did, but whatever...I guess, that's what fanfic is for. I fucking LOVE Emmrich okay, he's my new fav along with Solas (and Varric. And a few others). He's perfect to me and so is my son Manfred. I can't wait to play the other romances too.

!!!!!!!!

And finally, I'm going to spin into the next dimension??? THAT'S INSANE OF YOU TO SAY AND THE HIGHEST COMPLIMENT EVER THANK YOU SO MUCH. omggfgg seriously wow thank you, I'll be floating on rainbows and clouds possibly forever lol💜💜💜

[calibratemehard]

Alrighty folks I finished the game. I will put non-spoiler thoughts here and then put my spoiler thoughts under the cut. Again, these are MY OPINIONS. I am happy to hear your thoughts but I'm not arguing with you because you won't change my mind.

* holy shit this is a big game

* Mournwatch is the best faction in my opinion. Idk they're just cool and not problematic lol

* there is some retconning of established facts, but I take it this way: it's been a long time since the original trilogy's events. Origins was canonically sometime almost 20 years before Veilguard - think of life 20 years ago, it was very different. A lot can change and gods coming back changes a lot. Factions grow and change and become something different. Also this is NORTHERN Thedas, an area we've never played in. With few exceptions we've always had companions from the south and learned information about the north second hand. I think that's important to keep in mind when people complain about things not staying the same or 'lore accurate.'

* I still recommend picking the same faction as your projected romantic interest

* The cameos are ... Fine. Again, it's been a long time in game. Are you the same person you were 10 years ago? 20 years? I think Morrigan is the most disappointing but my headcanon is that motherhood has really suited her, also a decision she made off screen that is explained to you during the course of the game also made her personality make a little more sense

* I think I liked this game because I went in with an open mind. I have always loved Bioware games for the writing and the companions and this game has those in spades. I loved how fleshed out the characters were though it doesn't approach the levels that say, Baldur's Gate 3 reaches. But overall it was an enjoyable experience, around 65 hours for me to finish just about everything. Though maybe shave off about 5 hours for the character creator, which was great.

Okay so now for the spoilers. DO NOT OPEN IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS!!

* I maxed out all of my companions and factions and nearly 100% every area. There was no quest undone. I think that's why I got a good ending, namely Solas agreeing to bind himself to the Veil, sharing a big kiss with Lavellan, and walking into the Fade together. I did lose one member, Harding, and that fucking sucked. I haven't looked into spoilers so I don't know if switching her and Davrin would have made a difference cause Davrin is a Warden and would have fared better against the blight idk. I'll have to look into it. Overall I was happy though.

* I ... Should have seen the Varric twist but I wasn't looking for it so it just passed over me. I was devastated, but I think that it was well done and well earned. Still sad though. That was the second time I cried during the finale, after Harding.

* This felt like a Bioware game to me. It felt big, it felt complex, and the humor was always there. The QoL improvements and expansion of classes and abilities made this so much fun.

* I felt the romances were lacking a bit in content, though Emmrich had suuuuch a sweet and gentle romance. I loved it so much. They banged in a graveyard in what I assume is a coffin. A+ love him, love Manfred. I just wish I had kiss options a la BG3. I got spoiled. 😅

* I'll play this again. And again. That's how my brain works. I think they need to patch a sort of 'golden nug' option into the game and a new game plus to make things better. If there are DLC, I'll happily play them.

[cyandreamzaceattorney]

✭Franziska (and others) sketches✭

(thoughts and non-coloured version under cut XD)

Today I went for a walk and wanted a break from doing digital art so I did some AA sketches (I do love digital art but it's often stressful for me while sketching traditionally is relaxing so that's how it's an effective break for me XD). I mostly sketched Franziska because I find her to be the most fun AA character to draw (which I wasn't expecting getting into this franchise but I'm not disappointed, she's definitely one of my top 10 fave characters!) and felt like drawing her in a ton of cute outfits X3

Now for some context behind some of of my sketches >:-3

1/2 (left): both are just outfits but one is a copy of this outfit while the other I made up! but the pose for second pic is based off a model pose I found on google ages ago because I learnt the creator of Jojo references model poses for his manga and I love how cool Jojo poses are so I of course had to save a ton of model poses XD

3 (left): Felt like trying to draw Franziska being disgusted and while I think I failed the facial expression I ended up enjoying drawing this still. In my head canons Franziska isn't homophobic (Than again I don't even hc Manfred as homophobic), but would shit on Miles for liking men because I also hc her as lesbian and asexual, so the idea of being into men makes no sense to her. She would also caller herself "gayer" as if it's a competition because it is to her.

4 (left): Just tried to draw an older Fran, I like people giving her a pixie cut so I of course had to do that too. Not super happy with result as I think she looks a bit older than late 20's (which is what I was going for) but it's fine :>

1 (right): Just Miles in this pose (sorry it's a pinterest link) cuz why not XD he got sunglasses on because in my mind it adds to the silly concept

2 (right): Tried drawing Miles and Fran being smug, I dislike how I drew Miles but I really like Fran here.

3 (right): based off a meme (Idk the original ver but it's always the same setup as this drawing), probably my least fave of the sketches but it was still fun to draw, I like to imagine in the background a child Trucy is just swallowing a super tall American style burger XD

4 (right): My fave sketch out of all of them! the dress is based off the last picture in this post but I did change it's colour and design a fair bit :P

now for non-coloured versions, originally I was going to post the sketches like this but when I got hope I felt like adding some colour and I'm glad I did:

[rockturbot]

I saw in an interview that the GK2 writer did consider writing about Manfred, Gant and Blaise but he thought it wouldn't be a fun game to play. If that game WAS made, what do you think it would be like in terms of story and gameplay?

I'm obviously not sure how exactly *Capcom* would make this game, but I can write you an outline of a version of it that I at least wouldn't be disappointed by!

Hope everything makes sense, I'm writing this at 4 am. Under a cut because wow did this get Long.

There'd be AAI-style gameplay, with the usual interrogations and the logic mechanic. That one would be modified in such a way that you're not only piecing facts and events together, but uncovering people's emotional weak spots. Once you find them, they're added to the organizer and you can object with them during interrogations to pressure characters into saying what you need them to say to win the case. Also, outside of interrogations, Gant can use Perceive.

Unlike regular AAI, this one would include actual trial segments, at least in the final case. Now, I'm pretty sure the reason regular AAI does *not* do this is because it's simply hard to incorporate cool twists if you're playing as the prosecutor. As the defense, if the prosecution says the case happened like this and you prove it happened differently, that's fun and exciting! But if you're the one saying it happened like this, and then you just ... prove exactly that ... yeah. That would feel kind of flat. So the way that this would work is similar to the last day of RftA, where Phoenix has at least a rough plan in mind to prove Gant did it from the beginning, but we the audience aren't in on it and watch him unravel it testimony by testimony. Basically the tension would be in the "how" rather than the "what".

On to the story. I know the common idea for a game like this is that Manfred would be the main character, but with what we canonically know about him - a perfect record and nothing ever really going wrong before Greg came along - it would be hard to write meaningful conflict for him, external or internal, and I feel like a game as dark as this one would have to be in order to do its cast justice wouldn't work without plenty of both.

So: except for the segments in court, Gant is the protagonist. A detective who joined the force out of idealism, but who's growing increasingly frustrated and disappointed in the law because of how little justice he feels he actually gets to create, between having to let obviously guilty culprits walk free because some loophole makes the evidence proving their guilt illegal and feeling like he's forced to uphold the letter rather than the spirit of the law more often than not. Insert sad backstory of Blaise (a minor antagonist/rival character in this game) destroying his faith in prosecutors by accepting bribes by a corrupt politician Gant risked his life to apprehend and losing the trial on purpose, thereby also ruining any chance of them being held accountable for their crimes in the future because of double jeopardy.

Manfred fills the sidekick role, but as more of a mentor character than an assistant, showing Gant how to manipulate people, evidence, and the law itself to get the results you want. Although Gant knows Manfred's obsession with perfection makes him dangerous, he's also the only prosecutor he still feels fully comfortable working with, because he's the only one he knows for sure will never betray him like Blaise did and lose on purpose, and Gant reasons that as long as he makes sure they only ever convict people who are actually guilty, it's morally okay for him to use Manfred and his methods as a "weapon" to arrive at that goal. His trust in Manfred - or rather his trust in himself to keep Manfred under control somewhat - gets shaken throughout the game, though; if Manfred can forge evidence to fool the court, he could also manipulate evidence to fool Gant. Can he really be sure he's only arresting the right people?

Manfred also gets to be the viewpoint character for a mostly comedic filler case with incredibly low stakes blown incredibly out of proportion because of how big a threat even small things pose to his perfection.

Blaise, as said before, is a minor antagonist/rival who keeps impeding their investigations and generally making their lives harder (think Verity and Eustace pre-AAI2-4) Every once in a while he's actually useful, providing vital information, but always at a cost. Maybe his and Gant's shared backstory is revealed in a flashback case.

Remember what I said earlier, about Gant worrying about Manfred deceiving him? At around the 75% mark of the game, Gant finds out this has happened at least once, whether by Manfred deliberately framing an innocent person or by going so far with his methods that the resulting injustice completely outweighed the justice of the guilty verdict. With this knowledge, every single other case they worked together now seems suspicious too. Gant confronts him. They end up beating the hell out of each other, and Gant has his Dark Night of the Soul moment where he despairs over the fact that he became a detective to fight for justice, but is unable to stop injustice when it happens right in front of him. The next day he decides to report Manfred to the PIC, even at the cost of incriminating himself by confessing to all the ways they broke the law together, but when he arrives at the building, Manfred is there, waiting for him with a deal: he knows how to get around double jeopardy, and he'll help Gant finally bring the politician Blaise let walk free to justice if he agrees to tell no-one what he knows.

Gant is conflicted at first, but agrees eventually, and they get to work. Now - if this game was actually made, they would of course base this on Japanese law, and I don't know much about that. I've read that in the US, at least, double jeopardy does not apply if it's proven the judge accepted bribes from the defendant to pronounce them not guilty, because then the defendant was never "in jeopardy" in the first place. So, at least in this outline, that's what Gant and Manfred are doing now: framing the judge from back then for taking bribes. Gant feels conflicted again - this is his first time deliberately framing an innocent, but Manfred convinces him that one innocent man going to prison will be worth the justice the politician's victims were denied for so long. (Manfred doesn't care about the justice aspect too much, of course - he just knows it'll convince Gant to stick to the deal).

They succeed, the case is retried. Blaise ramps up his efforts to stop them, worried about his positive public image suffering for losing a case with such a high-profile suspect if they're found guilty now. He fails, of course - Gant and Manfred win, the politician's original victims come up to thank them, and Gant thinks to himself that if the price of fighting the world's many unnecessary evils is employing some necessary evils in turn, it's one he's willing to pay after all. There's some RftA foreshadowing in the end credits with Gant saying to himself that since Blaise has aspirations of becoming Chief Prosecutor one day, he'll need to find a way to control the Prosecutor's Office somehow to ensure they act according to *his* idea of justice, not Blaise's.

[mossiestpiglet]

Since I’m probably never gonna actually write them, I’m sharing my cotrk fic ideas so everyone can stew in the concepts with me:

Rise and fall of the Bloor family as shown from the perspective of their dining table - each chapter is a meal a few years/months apart, separated by big events in the Bloor family. Looking at how just deeply unpleasant it is to be a Bloor, that all the “family” stuff is sort of just set dressing for the reality of their situation. Haunting and creepy and weird, unhappy ending. Would follow canon events/timeline as close as possible and sort of just fill in the blanks.

Post-canon, Manfred and Asa reconnect and figure out their relationship - Manfred survives and leaves the city to try and figure out what his life is going to be now that the whole Bloor family scheme has fallen through. He bounces around for a couple years and then is finally working at (insert stereotypical job here) when he runs into Asa and finds out he has landed in the same town that Asa has been living in since getting away. There’s some “are you here to kill me” on both sides, they barely start talking stuff out before deciding Absolutely Not, and Manfred sort of hopes Asa will just leave him alone forever, but Asa recognizes the change in their positions and so won’t let Manfred go. Asa has found himself a new group of endowed friends (who actually like him! for the first time in his life!) and this group has a totally different view of him than being Manfred’s Dog, so things get a bit weird when Asa drags Manfred into this group. There is a lot of tension and the group doesn’t really get Manfred, or why Asa is so attached to such a weird asshole, but one day they are all out and Asa is getting pissed at some stranger and his new friends are all nervous and uncomfortable with his aggression and then Manfred is able to recall him instantly. And the group is like oooooohhhhhh that’s it. They had only known Asa as a Man and a Beast, but now they see that (for the right person), there is also a Dog. This incident prompts Manfred and Asa to dig a little more into what happened between them and how they are going to go on.

Post-canon, Naren and Harold meet - Naren decides she wants to meet the rest of her family and make up her mind about them herself (not just listening to what Bartholomew says). Since Harold has left the city and she has no idea how to find him, she asks Charlie for help, and he asks Lyell. In my BarleyAU “canon”, Lyell tells Charlie to go to Barley, and Barley facilitates the meeting, but I also like it without Barley as a chance to also explore the dynamic between Harold and Lyell and choices made in order to move forward. Harold and Naren end up having an odd sort of relationship, not least because they are siblings that are 35+ years apart in age, but the outlook is optimistic because 1) Naren is just Like That and 2) Harold is more generally unpleasant than actively harmful nowadays. (Manfred is alive, he’s just not involved in this because I hc that he and Harold aren’t on good terms post-canon for quite a while, and really only ever reconnect if someone else brings them back together, such as Barley, Lyell, or Naren)

BarleyAU, Barley and Billy bonding (alliteration yay!) - Barley and Billy’s relationship is like actually quite relevant to my BarleyAU plot because Barley gets so protective of Billy so quickly, but there is also just lots of fun side scenes of them bonding over their love of animals that wouldn’t make the cut if I did ever write a whole BarleyAU. This would be fun and funny and very much for the animal nerds, with also some undertones of found family as that is the trajectory of Barley and Billy’s dynamic.

Post-canon, Emma as an older teen with PTSD, trying to figure out how to go forward - Set when they are in their final year at Bloor’s and Emma has been having a rough time as the years go on. She has a lot of guilt and shame over feeling like she is disappointing everyone around her by not moving on, or being upset, and generally feels like there is no one who can understand what she went through, and her distress affects her endowment in painful and embarrassing ways. She starts to fixate on the idea of closure, thinking that the reason she can’t just “stop having problems” is because Manfred (and Harold but mainly Manfred) left the city when she was 12, and she never got to actually confront him about it. Everyone is super against her seeking him out, but Lyell feels bad enough about not having helped her when he was the person who had the most in common with her situation to give in and help her find Manfred, and also to try and protect her as much as he can (again). There’s lots of ways that talking with Manfred could go, but what I’m most interested in exploring is Manfred having also been a kid at the time and how Lyell and Emma feel about that, putting Lyell in a situation where he has to start processing things himself and can’t just act like it’s all wrapped up, and Emma realizing that there really aren’t any answers to be found in Manfred, she has to find it in herself and the people who care about her.

1902AU - Setting the whole series just a century earlier and exploring how that setting affects the dynamics. Plot would follow the canon without too many huge differences probably, it would mainly just be focused on how characterization and setting interact.

[awardenandacrow]

NAIMERYN’S RELATIONSHIPS

*this has been expanded and added on to since the last time I posted it*

*Super* big sister protective of Bellara. She’s just a cute wittle cinnamon roll with a heart of gold who tries to carry the whole damn world on her back by herself, and she must be protected at all costs. Will support her to the death whatever she decides about Cyrian (I’m not done with my first playthrough yet so I have no idea how any of this shit ends). Can’t wait to read her story.

Can’t put her finger on it, but Irelin bugs her. When she found out she and Bellara used to date, she accidentally started to hold a grudge about her not making Bellara happy, even though she doesn’t actually have any idea why they broke up or what the relationship was like. When Taash mentioned Bellara told them Irelin didn’t like how much she was into ancient Elven stuff, Naimeryn unconsciously decided Irelin Just Doesn’t Get It, and Bellara deserves better anyway. Strife is okay, but intimidating. Anyone too serious, Naimeryn expects to start yelling at her at any moment. Strife fits the bill. Softens towards him a bit when he and Emmrich hit it off.

Morrigan was friends with Saimaeria. That’s literally all she needs to know. The rest? Just makes her cooler. Or scarier. Maybe both.

She admires Emmrich because he’s so sure of himself even amidst a group of people who grew up *very* differently than he did. She adores Manfred and would use her staff as a baseball bat against anyone who tried to hurt him, and makes a point of playing RPS with him as often as she can. She usually loses. Emmrich knew she was all right when, upon meeting her and asking her to help in the Necropolis, she approached a wisp, held out her hand to it, and gently said, “hi, little friend. Can you help us?” He is, however, immensely disappointed that as someone who faces the possibility of death so often, she hasn’t thought about what she wants done with her body afterwards (she has. She lied. She didn’t want to upset him with talk of the Calling, and how her body will either be lost in the Deep Roads, or she’ll survive the Darkspawn long enough to turn into a ghoul). She’s not sure about this whole lich thing, but if that’s what’s going to make him happy, she’ll support it. Luckily for him, she tends to be a good judge of what a person needs, even if they can’t see it, and may just help him avoid doing (no not doing) something he’d end up regretting for literal eternity…

Vorgoth creeps her out. She never knows where to look when speaking to him. What *is* he? Doesn’t want to be rude but also… would rather talk to Myrna. Although Myrna is intimidating. So direct. So unbothered. So ethereal. She wants to be friends with Emmrich’s friends. She really does. He’s just… so much more personable than they are.

Upon meeting Lucanis: Neve: “huh. A non-mage abomination.” Naimeryn, internally: “oh no. No one told me he’s HAWT.” They are the quintessential, she fell first, he fell harder couple. He fought it as long as he could. She was doomed the moment he said “as you wish” upon being asked to ask Spite to pull them a path out of the fade the first time in that damned Antivan accent. Started wearing lavender perfume after Lucanis described first kiss coffee as honey and lavender cream. Spite says she smells like Blight and Lavender. She initially treated Spite with cautious courtesy because she didn’t want him to hurt Lucanis anymore. Lucanis describing him as a petulant child, and Emmrich telling her that “some spirits are dangerous, but many would be surprised how that can change with just an attempt at understanding or an offer of help” caused her to change her attitude. Although he is a demon, and as a mage (especially with her upbringing) she should hate him, she treats Spite with the same respect and humor she does everyone. Spite likes her. Spite also picks at Lucanis’s feelings for Rook like a scab because he thinks Rook is his ticket out, which causes Lucanis to fight them more… until Spite drags her into his head and basically says “bitch look at her showing up for you. For us. Knock it off. You’re being dumb” (although his resolve was crumbling before this). If this were an AU where their story took place in our universe, Naimeryn’s song for Lucanis would be “Miracle” by Paramore. If nothing else, she absolutely does not know when to give up.

Something about Illario felt off to Naimeryn from the moment she met him, but she thought his personality just rubbed her the wrong way, or that her old fear of being used was brought up by his flirtation. His every attempt to flirt with her in front of Lucanis was therefore met with a swift diversion of attention back to Lucanis. When the truth came out, her rage was true and pure. If Lucanis left it up to her, she might kill him herself, lack of mage knife training be damned. She also, however, understands that Illario is important to Lucanis, and will not encourage that course of action unless she’s 100,000,000 percent sure that’s what Lucanis wants to do. Hence he’s not dead. Or locked up. (Fuck him. It was what was best for *Lucanis.*)

She loves Teia. She’s so cool. So sweet. So feisty. Teia *immediately* clocks both of their feelings and is captain of the ship. Teia gifts Naimy crow armor and if anyone questions her about it she just points her dagger at them and glares in “I dare you to continue this line of questioning.” Naimeryn thought Viago was surprisingly calm about Caterina’s “death,” and briefly suspected he might know more than he was telling, and may never forgive herself for having such poor judgement. In all fairness, Viago will admit to not trusting her much at first, either… though seeing her dedication to Lucanis and her drive to help the people of Treviso brought him around. Caterina is important to Lucanis, and therefore important to her, but *damn* that woman is scary. Another one she thinks is going to just start yelling at her.

Always checks in with Jacobus. She knows he has plenty of people looking out for him, but she can’t help it. She worries. She knows what it’s like to be the only one left, surrounded by people who care but… don’t get it.

Is cautiously optimistic about Solas. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” and his advice has been sound this far, but she has not forgotten how this all started in the first place. She doesn’t blame him, necessarily — she believes she is at least partially to blame; as a mage, she should have known that interrupting a ritual that big could, and probably would, have unforeseen and big consequences. But also, she doesn’t *not* blame him — after all, he *says* there’s nothing worse than being wrong, and being afraid to change when it’s pointed out, and it seems like people have been trying to point it out to him for… a while. So like. What gives, dude?

Caretaker is baby. Threaten Caretaker at your own risk.

Every time Naimeryn falls out a window or into water or off a ledge or down an unexpected slidey slope Lucanis PANICS and throws himself after her like “MIERDA Rook wtf” and Davrin nonchalantly rolls his eyes and walks down the stairs/slides down the ladder/makes the jump and is just like “yep that’s my clumsy dumbass sister I have no idea how she convinced them to let her be a warden.” They are siblings in every way except literally. He teases her relentlessly. She takes none of his shit. Even though they were both reeling after Weisshaupt, she pulled him back from the survivor’s guilt edge. He never questioned her again after that. They’re surprisingly huggy. Lucanis is 0% threatened, as he and Davrin also have a weird sibling rivalry thing going on. Davrin finds their relationship amusing, and is not shy about teasing them both, at any opportunity. Assan is her baby as much as Davrin’s, and she’ll never let him forget it. He trusts her advice about the young griffon.

The First Warden and she never got along. When he was a recruit and she was a teenager running around Weisshaupt, he thought she got special treatment because she’d been brought there by the Hero of Ferelden herself. When he was named First Warden and she completed her Joining, he called her a charity case, and said she didn’t deserve to be a Warden. When she didn’t wait for reinforcements, he claimed she didn’t have the discipline to be a proper Warden. When he learned she’d let “new Blight” into the world, he was ready to throw her in jail until her Calling came — until Dorian intervened. Knocking him out was a pleasure. Letting him kill the archdemon so Davrin didn’t have to die? An obvious choice. She’s not usually one to hold a grudge, at least not on her own behalf, but the man made her life hell for fifteen years. She doesn’t think he deserved what he ended up getting, though.

Has always loved Evka and Antoine, from the moment they met (literally on their way to the battle that would completely change her life). She knew of them previously, but they got more field work than she ever did, and she had always envied their relationship from afar. Never thought she’d be lucky enough to find someone to love and be loved by like that.

She and Harding were fast friends. Has been massively supportive of Harding’s magic, because she remembers how it felt being forced to hide and suppress her own for so many years. Harding affectionately thinks she’s nuts for having a thing for demon boy, but has softened towards Lucanis because of it. Was the first one to tease her about it — first semi-maliciously in an attempt to get her to come to her senses, and then with good-natured resignation and support when she realized unless Lucanis did something about it, nothing was going to happen anyway. Naimeryn’s encouraged her to embrace her pain and anger — it’s a part of her now, and it’s not something to reject or fear. Knowing is a heavy thing. Emmrich wondered why Naimeryn didn’t accompany them to Ferelden or camping, since she’s also from there. Harding knew better than to invite her.

Had read all of Varric’s books before she ever met him (she worked in the library, remember?). At first was Bellara-to-Neve levels of in awe of him, and grew to respect him immensely. She relies heavily on his advice. She wonders frequently if she should have tried to talk him out of talking Solas down, and if she had, if he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Whenever she visits the infirmary to see him, she gets a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, but tries to hide it. If the dagger affected Harding so profoundly, what damage has it done to him? All Harding did was touch it. It was IN him. She checks in on him frequently, afraid that he’s in worse shape than he’s letting on. (YALL WHO HAVE FINISHED THE GAME: I know something is going on here but I don’t know WHAT and I don’t want to know until I find out for myself. I got a vague spoiler that there’s SOMETHING. I don’t want an actual spoiler. Thanks in advance.)

When it comes to Neve, Naimeryn feels like she never does anything right. She admires the other mage and wants desperately to be close friends with her, but then she started their relationship getting her hurt. Then, when she’d almost healed from the repercussions of that call, she’d abandoned her when Neve needed her most. When Neve was understanding about her making “an impossible call,” Naimeryn only beat herself up about it more. When Neve pushed her away, she felt like she deserved it. She went to Dock Town without Neve often, trying to clean up the mess she’d made, but asked the others not to tell Neve. She forgot that she’d asked no such silence of Rana, or the remaining Shadow Dragons. When Neve started to let her back in, Naimeryn jumped at the chance to make her top priority, and hopefully regain her trust. They’re not out of the woods yet, but Neve appreciates the effort she’s making. Also, Neve approves of Rookanis. Teia’s first mate on the ship.

Feels responsible for the Viper, and knows Tarquin also holds her responsible. Has not seen him since she was too late to save Minrathos from the dragon. Blames herself for not being able to find Lorelei, and not getting to Hector in time, and for every Shadow Dragon hanging in the streets. At first, she would cut them down and fight the venatori that tried to stop her, but there would always be more the next time, and Neve had to step in and put a stop to it. It was the only time they fought about Naimeryn choosing Treviso — and the only time Naimeryn has ever seen Neve cry. Suspects Rana may have a thing for Neve — and why not? She’s Neve Gallus, dammit.

Was at first intimidated by Taash. Taash at first thought she was cute, then saw her with Lucanis and went “ooooh, no. *THAT’S* cute.” Naimeryn supported Taash to find themself, and to embrace the Rivaini part of themself if that was what made them happy. She defers to Taash completely on dragon missions, and when anyone tries to imply they’re more knowledgeable than Taash about dragons. She tries to smooth interactions with Taash’s mother, though she worries she always makes it worse. Taash, on the other hand, is very appreciative, and respects Naimeryn a great deal. They also have a protective streak over Naimeryn even though they know she’s competent in battle. They’ve first hand witnessed her drunk, however, and just shake their head, grab her, and end the night (which is frustrating. Dammit. *They* we’re having a good time!).

Isabela is stunning, and flirty, and powerful, and WOW. Naimeryn’s is in awe of her. Isabela, like Taash, thinks she’s adorable. Also, damn, don’t bet against that blue haired elf, you’ll lose all your hard earned gold!

[illamda-spaminations]

Screenshots I took when playing Ace Attorney Investigations :D [Part 4]

turnabout reminiscences screenshots weeeeee

Spoilers incoming btw!!

Part 1/2

Beautiful victim name

AA never disappoints!!!!

"Ouch my right shoulder"

LMAO GET HIS ASS KAY!!

Also little Kay looks SO CUTE I CAN'T-

*proceeds to yell*

It's been one minute and I love her already

Live laugh love von Karma sibling moments

I love these two SO much it's insane

Detective Badd being their babysitter is also just *chef's kiss*

BRATWORTH USES A FEATHER PEN??? WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THIS????????

I like it when AA throws random details like this around. My inner analyst cries from joy lol

Anyway, Bratworth hc: he's attention starved [I am totally not projecting]

Gotta commend Edgeworth for pointing out the obvious

..Aren't you a defense attorney??

The way he said it so slowly.. Honey you're traumatized get help

"You're not the clown, you're the entire circus." ahh comment

Idk why but this scene strikes me as pretty ooc of Manfred, like he's not the type to directly go and say stuff to people's faces like that, at least any one that isn't a defense attorney. I think it would be more accurate to say "It's worthless to work on a case like this" or smth like that. Maybe it's because I'm working with the anime's version of Manfred who knows

Franzy defending Miles is really cute I love that

New hc: Callisto Yew's coping mechanism is laughing

BRATWORTH NOOOOOO YOU'RE HURTING YOU DAD

Aaaaanndddd that's about the first part of this post :D I'm actually having fun?? Whoa.

I love Callisto Yew she's soooo much fun, I too love bullying Bratworth. Detective Badd is also pretty neat I really like his vibes, his theme is so nice. I hope I get to see little Kay more she's so adorableeee I can't- Franzy is also so cute, she was almost exactly how I thought she would be lol. The Judge was stupid as always and overall the case is good [so far at least]

Anyway, I need to advance more in the case I'll see ya later >:] *disappears into thin air*

[headachecat]

The Hours Found – Chapter V

———

An anthology of hours in Lucanis and Rook’s relationship unseen in the game, but very much needed.

—

Timing: After 'A Cage for Gods' quest.

———

It must have been weeks now, but Lucanis couldn’t be sure. 

Minutes turned into hours, hours into days, days into eternity, it felt like. Every moment bled into the next, a ceaseless march of time that offered no respite, no clarity. He could not stop moving, could not stop looking, searching. If he did, he would collapse and let the Void consume him entirely.

He had found himself lingering around Emmrich’s office more often than ever, sharing drinks with the Necromancer on a daily basis as they discussed their next steps. The cluttered, yet organised, dimly lit room became a  refuge – a place where the exhaustion didn’t feel quite so overwhelming, and the burden of his thoughts could be shared, if only for a little while. 

They planned so much. Every meeting was a flurry of ideas and possibilities, desperate attempts to find a way forward. Between regular travels to Arlathan Forest, Necropolis, and Rivain, the delicate threads of time slipped through their fingers like sand. Emmrich would scratch notes into carefully categorised journals, diagrams of ancient magic and rift patterns sprawled across his desk, but every lead dissolved into disappointment. All for nothing. There was no place in Thedas where the Fade would part for them, no stone unturned, no rift undiscovered where even a trace of Rook was seen, felt, or sensed. And every failure added another crack to the fragile foundation of hope they clung to.

Lucanis felt himself going mad, spending more and more time in the company of Manfred. The skeleton had taken to making him coffee at least four times a day, his curious eyes never leaving Lucanis as he paced restlessly from the kitchen, through the library and down to the infirmary. Though he found the spirit’s presence peaceful and quiet – a comfort in some aspects – it pained him to notice how much it reminded him of Rook. The cheerful hisses echoed down the halls as they made their way through the Lighthouse, hauntingly reminiscent of her laughter. Books, carefully chosen to match his tastes, appeared on the library seat in the early morning hours, as though it was her leaving them for him, just like when they spent long nights reading together to keep him awake. And then there were the small, tireless attempts to make him smile – endearing, but gut-wrenching, as they mirrored how Rook had tried so hard to lift up his spirits, even when she herself was in pain. Lucanis couldn’t help but see her shadow in every gesture, every sound, and every fleeting, tender effort Manfred made. The ache of her absence pressed heavier with each passing day, blurring the line between the comfort of her memory and the torment of losing her.

‘Mourning is fascinating this way,' Emmrich told him once, in response to his worries. They were walking through Arlathan Forest, heading towards one of its counties spiritual power sources. The ancient trees towered above them, the air heavy with the earthy scent of moss, and sunlight streaming through the canopy in golden steaks, lighting their path. The day was warm, the clear skies overhead offering a sense of fleeting optimism. Ahead of them, Harding walked with an lightness in her step, her boots barely seeming to touch the ground. There was a subtle, almost playful skip in her pace – a sign of hope.

They were so determined back then, tumbling on the edge of what they believed could be a breakthrough. It was only their fourth attempt at opening the prison – one of many that would follow without success. After everything they had endured, it seemed reasonable, if not necessary, to share their thoughts and feelings as they travelled together. For Lucanis, though, it had never gotten easier.

‘It makes one search for familiar patterns in the things that remain around,’ Emmrich continued, his voice steady as the path grew darker and the air heavier, as if the forest itself was listening. The faint glow of the wisps danced around them, their whispers brushing against them, raising goosebumps on the backs of their necks. ‘It favours the representations of the happiest of memories, only to fill them with a sense of gloom so dreadful – it keeps us bound within our own minds. Anchored to the person we remember, or perhaps prefer to remember so fondly. Now that they are gone, that is.’ 

He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering something he hadn’t spoken aloud before. ‘But,’ he added, his tone sharpening just slightly, ‘you must not mourn those who are not dead. It is the cruelest trick of all. To grieve for what still lingers, just out of reach, is to tear yourself apart.’ His voice was reassuring and calm, as if the realisation of what his words meant wasn’t exactly there. Or perhaps he understood it so well that he no longer thought it scary.

Lucanis had grown used to the Nevarran easiness in discussing the dead. What first felt alien, now became a curious source of solace. Emmrich’s calm empathy, his ability to speak of loss as if it were a natural part of the air they breathed, was one of the few things that kept Lucanis from being entirely consumed by his own spiralling thoughts. It was a fleeting feeling though, disappearing as soon as they failed again, and again, and again.

Lucanis would kneel next to Emmrich as the mage performed his magic tricks, the soft glow of his hands illuminating their companions’ faces. The hum of ancient power wrapped around them, blending with the faint whispers of curious spirits drawn to their efforts. Lucanis would close his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the forest's energy swirl through him. For a moment, he would let his thoughts drift towards the Fade, calling out for Rook. He imagined her in the forest with him, the familiar voice ringing out between the trees. He could see her skipping past the trunks, her figure darting in and out of the faint light as she ran away from him. He followed her in his mind, tracing her footsteps in the soft, muddy soil beneath their feet. Every so often, he would catch a glimpse of her curly hair or hear the soft crunch of her boots ahead. It was almost as though she were truly there, just beyond his reach. Always beyond his reach. 

The moment stretched, bittersweet and fragile, until the inevitable pull of reality brought him back. And then, as always, he would feel Emmrich’s hand on his shoulder, its warmth grounding him. The mage’s touch was gentle but firm, a silent reminder that they were still here, still trying. Lucanis would look up, meeting the mage’s gaze – saddened yet kind, carrying the weight of the failure with grace.

‘I’m afraid it is not our lucky day,’ Emmrich would say softly, the resignation in his voice tempered by the faintest flicker of hope, as if he dared to suggest their luck might change next time. Lucanis recalled this moment as he stood before the entrance to Rook’s room, a place he had not dared to enter since the day she disappeared. He often walked past it, feeling an invitation coming from within, as if she would call for him from the Fade, but never once had he crossed the threshold. He wasn’t entirely sure why he avoided it for so long. Perhaps it was because he knew that once he entered, Rook’s ghost would no longer be a passing feeling, something he could escape from if it became too much. No, this room held so much of her memory within, that it would drown him, burying him underneath the overwhelming burden of her absence. He placed a hand on the door, hesitating. A quiet pull urging him forward, a deep fear holding him back. With a resigned breath, he took a step closer, pressing his forehead against the cold metal. ‘Rook,’ he whispered, his voice barely audible. He closed his eyes, picturing her once more.

In his mind, she was inside. She sat on her bed, her posture casual yet expectant, her elbow resting on the headrest. Her gaze was steady, observing him with that familiar curiosity, as though waiting for him to say something, as if her existence depended on his next words. He could feel her spirit, like she was waiting just on the other side of the door, a breath away from him. He exhaled sharply, startled by how vividly she appeared before him, the memory so sharp it almost felt real. ‘Come back to me,’ he thought, the words rising in his chest, but he could not voice it properly.

As if summoned by his plea, a presence materialised next to him, the coldness of its appearance making the identity clear right away.. Lucanis turned his head slowly towards Spite, his body too exhausted to react with anything more than a hollow stare. Spite’s brow was furrowed, his expression unreadable. His hand rested lightly on the wood, just beside Lucanis’s, as they shared an unusually long, silent look.

In that brief moment, Lucanis felt a strange tension between them – a connection, perhaps. Spite, who had always been strongly distant, aloof in his own cryptic way, seemed different now. Lucanis could feel he weight of their shared loss affect the spirit as well. He couldn’t quite place it, but he noticed the change in Spite ever since Rook had disappeared. It wasn’t just the usual detachment of a creature of the Fade. There was something more. Something like longing, like a hunger for what had been lost, yet not quite reflective of any mortal emotion. Spite, too, had been touched by Rook, changed, and the bond had appeared between him na this host – forged in that shared grief. They both felt it – the need to find her, to bring her back, to put an end to the emptiness that haunted them both. Lucanis turned his gaze back to the entrance.

‘We find. Rook.’ Spite pressed harder against the door, as if his will could somehow force it open. Lucanis followed his lead. The door creaked in protest as it began to move, the sound loud in the stillness of the hallway, inviting them into the room that had been sealed for so long. Lucanis stepped inside. His senses immediately were taken over by the sweet smell of Andraste’s Grace, its flowers wilting in the vase by the door. He stood still for a moment, taking in the sight before him.

The room was a testament to Rook’s journey – a scattered collage of artefacts and mementos gathered during their travels. The things in front of them, the possessions gathered over months of their travels, were a mixture of function and meaning, each piece telling a story that Lucanis was all too familiar with. His eyes drifted across the room, lingering on each item as though trying to decipher a secret code, to find some clue that might lead them closer to her.

On one side of the room, the walls were covered with sketches. Rook’s art was always raw, unrefined, but there was a beauty to it that drew you in. Lucanis’s gaze wandered from one drawing to the next: delicate sketches of trees bending under the pressure of the wind, the outline of distant mountains against a setting sun, the intricate patterns of the flora and fauna she had observed. His mind wandered back to a moment they had shared, as though the air in the room had carried him back to a campfire in Rivain. 

They had been resting during their journey, sitting in silence as the night stretched on during their guarding hour. The warmth of the fire flickered between them, casting long shadows on the ground. 

‘You know,’ Rook said, her voice quiet, and cautious to not wake up their companions. ‘Growing up in Necropolis – there’s not a lot of variety in your surroundings.’ She gestured behind her, taking in the lush landscape around them. ‘And this? Maker, isn’t this breathtaking?’ Her gaze had drifted across the beach they settled on. ‘The land, the sky, the animals,’ she continued, her voice thick with awe, before she paused for a moment.

Lucanis had caught the subtle shift in her gaze as it dropped from the horizon to his face. She studied him tenderly, almost as if she were memorising every detail of him. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks, and for a fleeting second, she looked at him as if the world around them had faded entirely. 

‘The people,’ she added, her voice softer now, like a secret shared only between them. His heart skipped a beat then, the sincerity in her words sending a warmth through him that had little to do with the fire.

Now, as he stood in her room, surrounded by her sketches, the memories flooded his mind. The tenderness in her voice, the way she had looked at him – he hadn’t realised back then how much he would miss it was he to lose it. He looked across the room, placing a hand on his heart. 

Near the far corner, a wooden cabinet held a collection of trinkets and curiosities: polished stones, an assortment of decorative skulls, a few books, and a well-worn map of Thedas, its edges curling upwards from constant folding and unfolding. A small wooden box sat atop the shelf, its lid slightly ajar, revealing a golden necklace in the shape of a bird skull. Lucanis reached for it, his fingers brushing the cool metal. He recognised the handiwork as one of the Treviso’s jewellery  merchants. ‘Is that a crow skull?’ Neve asked with the usual intrigue in her voice, her tone teasing as they made their way through the Market district. Lucanis kept a few steps ahead of them, shamelessly listening in on their idle chatter. The sounds of the market faded into the background as he heard Rook's soft chuckle. She was fiddling with something in her hands, the faint clink of metal resonating between them, before she answered, a touch of mischief in her voice. ‘I thought it might be a nice little reminder.’ She slipped the necklace around her neck.

Neve raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful grin. ‘A reminder of what, exactly?’

Rook didn’t hesitate in her answer, her voice quieter now, directed only to her companion, but laced with a sincerity that made Lucanis’ chest tighten, though he couldn’t quite place why, ’Something very dear to my heart.’

Neve let out a muffled laugh, and Lucanis could almost hear the eye roll in her words. She elbowed Rook’s side with a soft thud. 

‘You’re such a sap!’

Lucanis held the necklace up to his lips, his grip tightening on the delicate chain. The intricate details in the design spoke of time and care in its craftsmanship. Rook always paid attention to such small details.

For a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes. The sound of the market, once so distant, now seemed muffled, as though he was hearing it through the Veil. His mind replayed her soft laugh, the teasing, playful exchange taking place behind him. He looking back over his shoulder discreetly, noticing the way her eyes had softened when she spoke of it. It was clear now, as he held it in his hands – this was her way of carrying him with her, of holding onto something, no matter the distance between them. He’d never been good with words, never been able to say what he truly felt. He was always more comfortable with action, with gestures. Even with Rook, even now, when she was so close in his mind, so real and tangible in the memory of the necklace, the words still escaped him. His heart ached with longing for what could have been, had he voiced his love for her. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d spent so much of his life avoiding the weight of his own emotions, keeping them tucked away where no one could see them. But now, when it mattered most, the silence between them was a vast, endless space.

He held the necklace close for a while, before placing it back into the wooden box with a precise touch, closing the lid slowly as though sealing away a piece of himself. He had to. There would be a time to linger on this feeling, when Rook is back.

He took a slow stroll around the room, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet space. Spite trailed behind him, sneaking just a few paces away as they searched for memories, for clues, for anything that would bring them closer to a solution. But then, their eyes fell on something that drew their attention. A hand mirror, laid carefully on the stone table in the middle of the room. The  silver frame was old, worn with use, but it was unmistakable. Lucanis’ breath caught as he recognised it as one of Varric’s possessions. His fingertips hovered over the mirror.

They were sitting in the library, searching through several misaligned maps in order to find the right path through the Deep Roads into the ancient Thaigs. It wasn’t long after they saved Treviso from the dragon attack, their wounds still healing. Rook leaned on the table, absorbed in a dwarven transcript she found. Lucanis and Hariding were skimming through some books when she had casually mentioned it, her tone light but laced with confusion.

‘You know,’ she had said, glancing up from her journal, ‘Varric gave me this strange thing once.’ She paused, looking down at the journal again as she turned the pages, seemingly lost in thought. ‘A gift. A mirror.’

Lucanis raised an eyebrow at Harding, who quickly caught his gaze in a silent understanding. 

‘His shaving mirror?’ Scout asked. 

Rook chuckled, clearly aware of how strange it sounded. ‘That’s the one. He was acting all funny about it. Said it could show a person’s most hidden secrets. All the things we try to hide from ourselves,’ she shrugged, pausing for a second, deep in thought. ’Regrets.’

Lucanis had leaned towards her, but giving her enough space not to disturb her. 

‘He’s so serious about it.’ she let out a soft laugh, rolling her eyes. ‘Of course, I’m pretty sure the only thing Varric regrets is not shaving that overgrown beard.’

Harding sent a reassuring smile Rook’s way, before quietly returning to her search within the book’s pages. Lucanis watched Rook for a moment longer.

’Is there something you regret, Rook?’ he asked gently. She looked up at him, taken of guard for a brief second, before dropping her gaze on the table between them. Lucanis followed her lead, noticing the map of Tevinter laid out in front of him, the paper old and torn in several places. Rook sighed, before turning back to her reading.

‘Sometimes, I wish I could have done more.’

Spite hissed out in an twisted laugh of sorts, pointing at the mirror eagerly, ‘A prison. Built. From regrets!’ 

Solas’ words echoed in their memory, as the spirit jumped on the bed with quickened, suddenly reignited determination. It struck Lucanis then, like a sudden, blinding lightning running across his brain. If her regrets were the bars of her prison, then perhaps – just perhaps – they were searching for her in the wrong place all along.

‘Minrathous’ he exhaled, his mind racing. This was where they had gone wrong. Without another thought, Lucanis spun on his heel and bolted for the door. Spite watched him for a moment, before vanishing into his mind, the illuminated, violet wings shooting out of the Crow’s back. Lucanis burst into the main hall, calling out to the team. As he ran, a sense of clarity surged within him – Rook wouldn’t escape the pain of the destruction. She would confront it. And in that confrontation, she would finally be free.

It wasn’t long before they gathered at the Crossroads. They stood at the edge of the Eluvian, watching the distorted reflection shift and writhe in front of them. The image that stared back was a fractured version of Minrathous, twisted by the chaotic influence of the blight, tainted by the war that raged beyond. The reflection was darkened, like a wound that would never heal, and Lucanis felt his stomach twist as it seemed to reach out toward him, beckoning him to step through.

Harding and Taash were standing a few paces behind, watching warily. Harding’s arms were folded tightly across her chest, her eyes narrowed. Taash’s hand rested on the hilt of his axe, their grip tight, as though they were ready to face whatever might come at them in an instant. Neve was standing at the edge of the Eluvian, her fingers twitching as she examined the shifting reflection.

‘If we performed the ritual on the other side, the disturbance within the Fade might alert Elgar’nan’s forces,’ she turned to Emmrich, her brow furrowed in the usual silent question.

‘And Solas’ Taash groaned, a sense of disgust in their tone, ‘Vashedan.’

‘We do not need to cross,’ Emmrich interrupted calmly, stepping forward. ‘We might be able to draw the spiritual influence of the city through the portal. Shall we?’

With the flick of his wrist, a soft, emerald glow began to emanate from his fingertips, lighting up the Eluvian’s surface. The others remained still as the magic pressed against the reflection. The mirror rippled, the surface twisting like an upcoming storm, but slowly, under the touch of his power, it began to clear, like fog lifting from a sleepy valley. A faint outline of the city, the memory of Minrathous before the blight, emerged beneath the distorted layer, its streets and buildings visible but shrouded in an eerie, unnatural silence.

Neve stepped up beside Emmrich, her fingers brushing against the cool surface of the Eluvian. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on their intention, her own energy reaching out to help guide Emmrich’s, amplifying it. Her hand glowed with faint, blue light as she pressed harder, and the reflection began to stabilise. Soon, the chatter of every day life emerged from the vision, the banter of Dock Town’s residents reaching their ears. Neve looked back at her companions with a sad smile, the memory bringing out the pain she tried to cover up for months now.

Lucanis could feel the change as the ritual started – the whispers of spirits appearing. At first, they were soft, a mere murmur at the edge of his hearing, but soon they became louder, more insistent. Soon, they changed drastically. The shrieks of unknown entities echoed around them, the voices wild with rage, confusion, and fear. He was unsure if the sounds were coming from the Fade, or from the streets of Dock Town itself, where the raging war lured in spirits and demons alike, hunting the dreams of the citizens.

Taash observed the reflection with caution, glancing warily at the swirling wisps that surrounded them. They haven’t encountered this in their previous attempts at the ritual, which meant that they were either getting closer, or have possibly uncovered something completely different. Something dangerous. ‘Tell me this is what we’re looking for.’

‘Precisely,’ Emmrich’s concentration deepened, sweat appearing on his forehead as the Eluvian’s reflection slowly began to stabilise. ‘Now, call out to Rook, would you? We must create a path.’

The spirits grew louder still, shrieks and whispers mixing into an indistinguishable cacophony that rang in Lucanis’s ears. He took a deeper breath, fixing his gaze on the vision in the mirror, trying to make out the shifting shapes within. He reached to his belt, grabbing the hilt of Rook’s blade, a familiar shiver running up his fingertips. 

‘Rook!’ he shouted, stepping closer, Harding and Taash following his lead. They readied their stance, grounding themselves, as they yelled out towards the Eluvian. The reflection brightened in front of them, a blinding flash hurting their eyes as a sudden lightning of energy shot at them. Electricity flickered in the air between them, as Harding gasped, grabbing the bow and aiming it at the portal. ‘Stay focused,’ Neve murmured beside Emmrich, her voice almost drowned out by the spirits. The sound was maddening, a clamour of desperate voices trying to escape, trying to reach them. The presence of such despair spirits was unsettling and overwhelming, their whispers tugging at the edges of the group’s minds like claws scraping against glass. Finally, with one final ripple of magic, the reflection before them cleared completely.

An unexpected silence fell over them, as a familiar shape appeared within. Lucanis could feel his heart race as he stared at the shimmering figure in the Eluvian, a knot tightening in his chest. His grip on the Nevarran blade at his side clenched reflexively. Taash, however, was faster in their reaction. 

‘That’s her!’ they shouted, pushing in front of Lucanis. Their gaze darted briefly to Emmrich, seeking the slightest confirmation. Emmrich gave a short nod. They reached through the reflection without hesitation, their other hand gripping the golden frame of the portal tightly for support. The faint shimmer of the Eluvian’s magic wavered around their arm like water breaking apart, distorting their figure slightly.

‘Rook—’ Lucanis whispered, stepping forward to join Taash. His voice caught for a moment, but he steadied himself. He focused on the shadow, fixated, like it might vanish if he blinked. He extended his arm through the surface of the portal, the coldness of the Void surging through his arm, sharp and biting. He sucked in a sharp breath, the frost creeping up his skin and settling deep in his bones. It wasn’t just cold – it was an emptiness, a hollow that seemed to pull at something far deeper than flesh and blood. Lucanis pressed forward despite the pain.

Taash’s grip on the Eluvian’s frame tightened as they leaned further in. Their voice was firm, yet tinged with the slightest edge of desperation, ‘Come on, boss! We’re here!’

The shadow shifted slightly. The outline became sharper, more distinct. It was her. He knew it, even if the details were still obscured by the Veil. The familiarity of her presence was unmistakable. The thought of stepping back, of retreating now when they were so close, was unthinkable. ‘Rook!’ he called again, his voice trembling ever so slightly. ‘We’re here for you!’

The figure turned, slowly at first, then more sharply, as though startled by the sound of his voice. For a moment, Lucanis thought he saw her face – her eyes meeting his, so full of tears, of pain, of regret. A faint flicker of recognition. Taash’s arm trembled as the cold of the Void gripped them harder. ’Come on, don’t make us wait all day!’ they groaned, their voice rough but affectionate.

The shadow within stepped closer to the edge of the reflection, and the air around the group grew heavier. The connection seemed to weaken, as the surface of the Eluvian trembled violently. Lucanis didn’t move, his hand still reaching, still searching. 

Within the chaos of the portal, another figure appeared – shorter, sturdier, standing just behind Rook’s shadow. Lucanis inhaled sharply in surprise. Varric. His outline was faint, a memory, but it was enough to realise. 

‘He will always be with you, Rook,’ It took another moment for Lucanis to speak again. But there was no time to waste. He called out, his voice echoing through the Fade, resonating with the wisps within, ’And so will I.’ The figure’s outline faltered for a moment, flickering like a candle, before steadying. Slowly, almost hesitantly, it raised a hand toward him. The cold intensified, and Lucanis grit his teeth, against the biting chill, refusing to pull away. Beside him, Taash cursed under their breath, their body leaning further into the portal. Lucanis could see the faint impression of their arm wrapping protectively around Rook’s shoulders. 

’I got you,’ they muttered. The Eluvian shimmered, and the shadow flickered once more. Emmrich spoke up suddenly, his hands shaking, as he worked furiously to hold the fragile connection steady. ‘Shall we bring you in, my dear?’ he coaxed gently. The shadow surged forward suddenly, and the bond between Lucanis and Rook solidified. The Crow gasped softly as he felt the familiar softness of her skin in his hand. The cold of the Void receded slightly, overshadowed by the comfort of her presence. Taash grunted with effort, their grip tightening as they pushed them together, sealing the connection. And then, with a burst of bright light, the Eluvian stilled. 

Lucanis’ sighed as he saw her, truly saw her, for the first time in what felt like eternity. She was there, vivid and real, trembling but safe. He pulled off his cape, wrapping it around her shoulders tightly. With a sharp, desperate motion, he pulled her closer, his arms catching her as she stumbled forward. Her breathing was disturbed, her body trembling against his as though she were still fighting the pull that had tried to keep her away. She was cold to the touch, her skin pale and her lips chapped. Maker, she was as beautiful as ever. ‘Mi Amor,’ he whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking, as he held her tightly. He buried his face against her shoulder, the familiar scent of her hair – a memory made real – threatening to undo him. Relief surged through him like a flood, overwhelming and uncontrollable. His heart ached with the weight of everything he had felt since losing her – the fear, the guilt, the pain. And now, finally, the reality of her in his embrace. Her hands clutched at his arms, her grip strong but trembling as she was finding her place in the world again. Lucanis pulled back slightly just for a moment, to take in her face. Her gaze wandered, drifting over the faces of the group standing before her. Each one wore a look of relief and worry, their collective presence a reminder that she was no longer alone. But her eyes soon found their way back to him, and he saw something there – a spark of realisation.

She didn’t speak at first, her fingers tightening slightly against his skin, as if she feared letting go. Then, her lips parted, as she found her voice. ‘That’s new’ she whispered tenderly, the corners of her mouth lifting in a faint, exhausted smile.

Lucanis exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, his own lips curving into a gentle smile. He brushed a thumb across the scar on her cheek, his touch careful not to startle her, afraid she would vanish if he wasn’t gentle enough.

‘What else did I miss?’ she added, her voice rough but carrying a dry humour that was so undeniably her it made his chest ache. The Crossroads stretched around them endlessly in every direction. Wisps floated in the air ever-present, undisturbed,. Around them, the group exchanged glances – expressions of exhaustion, of quiet joy, of renewed determination. For now, no more words were needed – Rook was back, and that was enough.

[poke-bon]

Imagine my disappointment when I discovered that Manfred did NOT in fact, have a quest for me.