#arcane writers i am shaking you by the shoulders

[pillowenvelopchair]

"Our paths diverged long ago. It was affection that held us together." Hello? HELLO??????????????

[star-reaper]

Arcane Silco x Reader One-shot - I Trust You

Synopsis: After the incident with Vander, you find what remains of the Silco you left at The Last Drop the night before. Now heart shattered, terrified, and close to death, he grips on tight to the only thing he has left as you try your best to comfort him and aid his wounds.

Young!Silco, Pre S1, Implied Fem!Reader but could be read GN, mentions of injury, blood, typical canon violence, knife mentioned, Hurt/Comfort, angst, established relationship, Medic!Reader

I've been inspired after wasting DAYS reading Silco fics, thank you fellow Arcane fanfic writers ❤️ Maybe I'll write more for the fandom?????

The cracked cobblestone paths of the cramped Undercity clack loudly under the worn soles of your boots. Your medic bag hangs loosely over your shoulder, the parched leather splitting at the seams as you toy with the fraying material between your nails.

You don't need to be told that tonight's highly-anticipated Uprising was a failure. You can judge its success based solely on the amount of rioters you saw in your office today; chipped teeth, brutal burn wounds, broken limbs, concussions. The unrest between Zaun and the ever-oppressive Piltover thickens with each passing minute, Enforcers becoming more violent and Zaunites only more angry.

Tonight's rally was meant to be the turning point, Zaun would fight back and push past the bridge, securing their futures with an iron grip and hearts full of hope. Vander spoke of it just yesterday evening, eyes gleaming with ambition saccharine sweet as he raised his glass of ale high in cheer. Silco, your Silco, with a smile so sure, so wide, you were certain you'd never seen him so excited.

"You're sure you can't make it?" He's asking you, shoulder jostling your own as he slides into the seat beside you at the bar. The cacophony of cheer around the bar following Vander's inspiring speech seems to die down and reduce to a droning chatter of voices and clinking dish ware.

Your eyes peel away from Vander — who is serving patrons left and right with an energy so radiant you can't help but shake your head at him, a small smile gracing your features — to meet Silco's sea-foamy green ones, peering down at you from the slant of his nose.

"You know riots mean people tend to get hurt. I'll be more needed at the med center, that's where I can do my part." You say, and it's true. The Undercity lacks in abundance, especially lacking in individuals with medical knowledge, much less an affordable one, or even a doctor you can trust. You've become an important addition to The Children of Zaun, and even more important to the citizens you look out for.

Silco nods, understanding, albeit disappointed that you won't be by his side. He wraps an arm loosely around your shoulders, pulling you in so he can press a chaste kiss to your temple.

"I know. This will be a big one, an important one. We'll be needing you down here."

You smiled softly, "You'll be careful, won't you?"

"As careful as I always am." Silco smirked.

"Great, so I'll be seeing you tomorrow night in my office is what I'm hearing?"

"Well, when you make it sound so scandalous I couldn't possibly miss out, my dear."

You're rolling your eyes at him, nudging him back with your adjacent shoulder as he chuckles. A peaceful silence overcomes the two of you as you soak in your surroundings at the bustling bar. Felicia is bickering with Vander at the counter, her vibrant purple braid flicked over her shoulder and Vander is laughing at her playful scowl.

"What will you do, if you succeed?" You ask suddenly.

Silco doesn't hesitate a second, "Not if. We will. We must succeed." His brows furrow for a moment, "I don't know what I will do. I'll come back for you, and then I suppose we will figure it out together like we always do. You trust me, don't you?"

You can't help but grin at that, "Of course I trust you."

Trust has always been one of the most important values holding you and Silco together. No matter what, you would always trust each other, to the ends of the earth. And you'd never stop reminding the other.

Your next thought is interrupted by Benzo, at least six ales down.

"There will be celebrations all through Zaun tomorrow night just you wait! In just another twenty four hours we will be commemorating our victories with each and every Zaunite throughout the city!"

But, as you make your way home it becomes blatantly apparent that there are no celebrations raging through Zaun tonight, there was no victory, and instead just an evening full of shattered hearts and broken bones.

Needless to say, Silco never did make it to your office tonight, and now as you walk back home on tired feet in the early hours of the dawn you find yourself wondering what state he could be in.

Silco may not be the strongest, but he's quick, and he's so painfully smart you can bet he hadn't been caught by Enforcers — but then if not carted away to Stillwater, why hadn't you seen him at the med center as you usually do after a riot? The nerves bite at your system, and you can only hope he is safe and sound at The Last Drop where you left him yesterday night, waiting for you to find in a few hours. First, you know you need to sleep off the fatigue of tending to the injured all night long.

You turn right into the alleyway that cuts through the block of stacked houses and cross the street to your home. As the door comes into view it is then that you feel a prickling sensation of unease creeping into your very being. You remove your hood from your head, peering at your surroundings cautiously in an effort to calm yourself. There's no one around. Nothing to explain the worry woven into your deepest instincts as you quicken your steps to the entrance of your abode.

The single key fished from the pocket of your med bag rattles in the rickety doorknob before the lock unlatches. The wood swings open with a creak.

There's water everywhere. Puddles of the polluted brown liquid spreads from the front entrance. It trails through the house where cabinets and drawers are left ajar and furniture lies knocked over on the uneven floor. You freeze in horror at the state of your belongings before spotting the streaks of blood on the floor and the counters of your kitchen. Whoever had trespassed had done it in a panicked struggle, things haphazardly left out all around the property. You huff a swear before dropping your bag as silently as you can at the front door, your tiredness suddenly swept away and replaced with unfiltered adrenaline. Survival-mode kicks in, and you're creeping with predator-like stealth to the kitchen. A peek into the open drawer confirms your suspicions, and whoever had broken in had stolen the large kitchen knife you stored and was likely wielding the weapon somewhere in your home.

You go for the next best thing, a rusted but still sharp pair of cooking scissors which you grasp tight in your palm, blade poised.

Following the trail of blood and water, your head swiveling vigilantly in every which direction, you make your way up the short flight of stairs to the second floor. Your bedroom door is wide open, a handprint of blood smeared across the edge of it in a rush. You take a deep, shuddering breath before slipping through the threshold.

The bed is left tidied and made, moth eaten sheets folded over the top of the frayed duvet and curtains billowing softly from the cold breeze which spills through the crack in the window. It's all in the state that you left it in. Your brows furrow in confusion before spotting the faint light which emanates from the crack under the adjoining bathroom door.

Your hands tremble as you creep towards the door, wondering if what lies behind it is the means to your fateful end. Teeth wearing into the flesh of your bottom lip, you stop and lean against the wall beside the bathroom. You listen, ears straining hard to hear through the barrier before you catch it.

It's the faint sound of someone crying, notable only by the quiet, shuddering breaths and wet sniffling that periodically breaks the whimpering noise.

It's then that you hear the low whisper interrupting the soft sobbing, the voice tinged with abysmal pain and fear, "Fuck—,"

Silco.

You're not even thinking as the scissors fall from your grasp, hitting the floor with a metallic clang before you wrench open the door and burst inside, heart thrumming viscously in the cage of your chest as you recognize your lover's voice.

Your breath catches hard in your throat at the sight before you; Silco, curled tightly in the basin of your bathtub, head to toe in soaking wet clothes stained with blood which drips from his face. His wet black hair hangs disheveled over half of his features, cloaking him in the raven locks. Your missing kitchen knife is clasped rigidly in between both hands, blade sticking straight out and bobbing with his labored breaths. His one visible eye widens in what you think is fear and his whole body freezes up at the sight of you, his legs scramble against the edge of the tub like he's trying to get away from you but all you can think is, he's hurt. You have to fix him.

"Silco," you rasp, reaching for him frantically with tears brimming in your eyes but before you know it he's yelling, pointing the blade of the knife at you and waving it around haphazardly.

"Stop—" He's crying, but the syllable comes out guttural and hoarse, "Don't touch me!"

You freeze, hands up to show you mean no harm and falling back on your knees to be eye level with him.

You swallow before you try to say anything, but the lump in your throat only grows ten-fold.

"Silco," you try, tentatively. "What happened?"

"Felicia's dead." Is what he manages to gasp, teeth gritting hard and eyes squeezing shut, another stray tear falling down his face.

You don't realize you're treating him like a patient until you're halfway done examining him with just a glance. His nails are bent and broken like he had scratched desperately at an unrelenting force, the torn collar of his jacket reveals blooms of a deep purple encompassing the surface of his throat and neck, blood pours from what you could see of his cheek, down his jaw and off the point of his chin. His eyes are swollen and bloodshot and his nose is definitely crooked— likely broken and the bruising is beginning to swell beneath his eyes. It doesn't take a genius to tell he had been asphyxiated, and beaten, hard.

Felicia. Felicia is dead. You're trying to hold onto your resolve, face relaxed as to not alarm him any further but your heart wants to cry out in agony. Another good soul, lost to a helpless cause. Another loved one, gone. You want to ask where Vander is, where Benzo is. Whatever it is that happened at the Uprising has clearly shaken Silco to the core, nearly unrecognizable with fear and shame and you worry that if you break down now nothing will be left to hold the rest of him together.

"I don't know where to go. I don't have anyone else." Silco is rambling now, voice sore and body shaking. "I can't go back. I can't go back, he'll finish me off."

"Silco, who? What's happened to you? I don't understand—" You can feel the tears spilling over and you choke on a sob, terrified for the man you love.

Silco shakes his head rapidly, he opens his mouth like he'll try to explain but is cut off by a cry so anguished you feel your own soul shattering. His shoulders tremble and you realize he must be freezing, his clothes saturated and the chill of the night air permeating his figure.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to get you a blanket and I'll come right back." you say gently.

He nods and hangs his head low, avoiding eye contact.

You retreat to the bedroom and pull your duvet right off the bed, also grabbing the forgotten glass of water left on the nightstand from the night before. You stand at the threshold of the bathroom peering in as non threatening as you can before taking a deep breath.

"I need you to put the knife down." you whisper.

Silco glances at the object in his hand and stares at it in shock for a split second, like he had not even realized he'd armed himself with your household items.

"I would never hurt you, Silco."

He takes a deep breath, and flips the blade before handing it over to you, handle out.

"Thanks," you whisper, placing the knife on the bathroom counter across from you. You trade it for the glass of water. "Here. Can I touch you?"

Silco takes a deep breath, eyes shut before nodding and wiping crudely at his cheek with the back of his hand, the skin pulling away wet with his tears.

You sit at the edge of the tub and pull the thick duvet into the basin, pausing over Silco's soaked figure.

"Do you want to take your clothes off? We can get you dry and warm."

He shakes his head no, but does pull off the bulky jacket, the wet fabric slapping against the surface of the porcelain bathtub. You drape the blanket over his shoulders, wrapping it around to his front and tucking it around him the best you can manage. He takes a long sip of the water, grimacing as he swallows and you try to catch a glimpse of the bruising on his neck.

"It's okay, I got you." You whisper. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I need to know what's wrong so I can fix it. You can even just point." You say, hand massaging tenderly over his blanketed shoulder.

"I-I can't see out of my left eye," He says, voice low and gravelly, "it hurts."

"Can I look?"

Silco lifts a hand and runs it through his long hair, pushing most of it back out of his face but a few unruly tresses fall back over his forehead. You can't help the gasp that falls from your lips as you survey the gashes running across his eye and mutilating the whole expanse of the area. Blood oozes from the wounds and the flesh swells bright red and pink and you know it's already infected. You can't save the eye, that much is evident.

"I need to clean it before the infection spreads any further, I'm sorry." You cringe, "It's going to hurt but you could die if I don't treat it now."

He nods. Silco seems to be of sounder mind now. Not relaxed by any means, but his breathing is controlled, his good eye is focused and he's understanding you.

You turn around to retrieve your personal medical supplies in the linen closet and find the bottle of antiseptic and gauze, when you turn around you meet Silco's gaze, his brows pressed together with worry and mouth pressed into a deep frown. The blood from his eye drips on the fabric of your blanket and stains it the color of rust.

"It was Vander." he says.

You freeze up, nearly dropping the bottle, "Vander did this to you?" you ask incredulously.

Silco nods. "I didn't mean to get her killed. I didn't mean it, none of this was supposed to happen, I—" he breaks off into silent tears again and you gently hush him.

You've never seen him cry in the many years you've spent together, now to witness it so many times in one night you have no idea how to handle it.

"It's okay, you can explain later. I trust you." You assure.

You tilt his chin to look at you and wipe the tears from his face.

"I trust you." You say again.

"Okay." Silco appeases, "I trust you, too."

It takes nearly an hour to clean out his wounds, by then the sun is beginning to rise, a blue haze filtering in through the windows and casting a glow on everything the light touches. Silco has stripped from his wet clothes and showered, but had asked sweetly if you would wait for him in the bathroom to which you comply.

He changes into dry clothes he had left here ages ago and now lies in your bed, curled up on his side. The blankets are tucked over him and he lays silently beside you while you card your fingers through his hair. His sighs against the skin of your shoulder.

You know he wants to sleep but fears the playback behind his eyes of the events of the failed Uprising, but his body can't physically stand to move anymore. His injured eye is packed under gauze and medical tape and you can only hope you did all that you could.

His eyes flicker up to yours, "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I owe you a proper explanation. Thank you, for caring for me."

"I'll always care for you, Silco. You don't owe me anything, this is what I'm here for. You can tell me when you're ready."

"Okay." He replies, stroking your cheek with the backs of his split knuckles before tangling gently in the hair at the nape of your neck. You lay like that together for a while, you drifting in and out of consciousness as the adrenaline wears off and the chaos of the day becomes a memory. You trace the sharp angular features of Silco's face lovingly, pressing a sleepy kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your mind wanders to Vander, to Felicia, to Felicia's two beautiful children and Benzo and The Last Drop.

You wonder if things will ever be the same again and your heart aches at the silent answer. You know you'll never be able to forgive the man who hurt Silco like this; destroyed him at his very core and you know he will never be the same again.

"We can't trust anyone now. Only each other." Silco says, voice thick with pain.

"I'll always trust you." You reply softly, "Sleep, Silco. You need to rest. We will figure it out in a few hours."

Your eyes drift closed after that, the last of your sentence trailing off as you succumb to your exhaustion. The last thing you see is the pretty green-blue eye of your lover, half lidded and glistening in the light of the sunrise.

"I love you."

[bwat5-blog]

Come Marching Home: Arcane Fanfic

**Canon Divergent One Shot*

Three months after the Battle Of Piltover, Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman and Tobias Kiramman stand in the ruin of the upper hex gate, the wind whistling outside...

Vi walks forward, slowly, hands on the safety railing that been installed looking over into the void.. where her sister had fallen.. her breathing speeds up, her hands hurt.

"It's okay Violet, just breathe slowly" Caitlyn's soft voice from behind her as her hands lay over Vi's bone-white knuckles. Vi exhales slowly..

"Are you sure you are up for this?" Caitlyn asks cautiously but Vi nods. "I haven't... I haven't been able to say goodbye to them.. I need to say something.." Vi wipes a tear away quickly and turns, her lip shaking, trying to hide it.

"None of that my love" Caitlyn takes her and kisses her forehead gently. "Feel whatever you need to feel, that's why we are here with you" she whispers softly.

Vi nods, smiling weakly "thanks... Cupcake" and turns to Tobias who is standing nearby, stoic, dressed in his full noble attire. Vi had been surprised when Tobias wanted to come. They had grown close since the battle for which she was very grateful but ... Jinx did what she did.

Vi locks eyes with Caitlyn one more time for support and walks out onto the walkway.. the same where she had laid after Jinx deactivated the gauntlet.. her stomach churns... the wind gently howls outside.

Vi clears her throat, eyes already wet.. "Dad... I.. I don't know how much you were aware of that day.. if any.. but I want you to know I know it wasn't you.. I know you would never hurt us.. hurt me.." Vi's chest clenched and her eyes burn "I miss you... and I'm so fucking sorry we didn't get more time with you" Vi chokes down a sob and masters her breathing..

"Jinx... I wish I could tell you what that name has come to mean to me now.. what I wouldn't give to call you by it one more time so you could hear it with love.. I.. I'm sorry I needed you to save me that day.. it feels like we just found each other again and then I lost you all over again and fuck it hurts"

Vi drops to her knees sobbing as Caitlyn rushes out onto the platform enveloping her in her arms, crying herself "it's okay Vi.. it's okay my love just breathe" Caitlyn kisses Vi's mop of fiery hair in agony over Vi's pain..

Steps... slow and firm.. Caitlyn looks up to see her father looking down at them, his eyes full of love and sorrow. Kneeling down to Vi he places a gently hand on her shoulder "Violet... in my country.. where I grew up.. there was song we would sing for the departed.. with your permission.. may I do so for your family?"

Vi looked at him in genuine shock but nodded smiling weakly, still crying "I..I'd like that.."

Caitlyn held tight to Vi as her father walked right to the edge of the platform, her own heart tight in her chest. Her father had a voice that filled your heart, but she hadn't heard it since her mother's death.. She and Vi hold each other as Tobias's deep and warm voice fills the air, echoing through the chamber.

"Leaves from the vine.. falling so slow, like fragile, tiny shells.. drifting in the foam.. little, soldier boy.. come marching home. Brave little soldier boy.. comes marching home".....

Tobias returned to them, tears on all three faces and embraced them tightly. "Come, my daughters. Let me get you home".

______________________________________________________________

Just another quick one-shot idea I wanted to put down. If any writer with any actual talented wants to flesh any of these out that would be great because I am for sure not it!

**All credit for song to Avatar The Last Airbender/Michael Dante Dimartino and Jeremy Zuckerman**

[ranawaytothedas]

Candy

Rating - Teen

Word count -  3115

AO3 - TBA (tomorrow)

Ships -

Solas/Tamaris

Dorian/Mathras

Mentions Merrill/Carver 

Summery: A Modern AU! Halloween Solavellan family fluff fest, to celebrate 60 followers on my DA Blog!!

A/N: I set this around the bustling urban metropolis of “Kirkwall” just so I could include Merrill because I love her… I guess some important stuff… Varric is Governor of the City State of Kirkwall after being a successful comic book writer who wrote politically fuel comics satirizing the events that led to great Mage Rebellion… in an odd write in situation that started as Twitter hashtag, Varric was elected Ruler of Kirkwall…<.<. The Hawk, is a superhero from Varric’s comics made famous by the actor and personal friend of Mayor Tethras, Garrett Hawke, who is also a friend of Tamaris’s from College. Solas is a professor of Ancient Elven Studies at the College of Kirkwall, Merrill is his assistant professor�� Dorian and Mathras are podcast/youtube darlings and visiting from Minrathous .. Tamaris is a stay at home mom, to her and Solas’s 3 year old Shivana… 

The shrieks and giggles of a toddler echoed through a modest home just outside of the sprawling urban landscape of Kirkwall. Tamaris Lavellan, stood in her kitchen over a boiling pot craning her neck to try to see where her toddler had run off to. “Mathras! Can you please just contain her in one room!” Tamaris shouted as she dumped a box of pasta in the boiling pot, giving it a quick stir before trying to go track down her poor brother who she last saw chasing after her three year old daughter whom, while not being watched for just a moment, had gotten in the large bowl of Halloween candy that had been on the kitchen table. The results being a very hyper child covered in chocolate. 

As Tamaris walked into the family room, Mathras’s partner Dorian sat on the couch scrolling through instagram. Walking up behind him Tamaris ran her hand along the back of his shoulders and put on her best smile. Dorian looked up from his phone, locking the screen and putting it in his lap. “Yes, my dear?” He beamed up at her. Dorian had been one of the most charming men she had ever met when they were seated next to each other in Arcane Studies class nearly a decade previous. Tamaris had even tried to ask him out, only to find out his interests lay elsewhere. It was her, who ultimately set him and Mathras up. Though if you listened to their podcast. “It’s the Tea from Tiventer with Dorian and Mathras” a daily gossip podcast and youtube channel, they would tell their love story very differently. 

With a weary sigh Tamaris pointed to the kitchen. “Could you please make sure the pasta doesn’t stick. If I serve Solas one more clump of pasta I think he will divorce me for cruelty and malnourishment.” Trying not to laugh Dorian nodded as Tamaris let out a thankful sigh. “I have to go save Mathras from Shivana…” 

Waving his hand Dorian laugh, “Please, go… save my husband from your terribly behaved sugar fuel child…” With a laugh as he stood to go do as he was asked in the kitchen. 

Tamaris made her way into the formal living where her twin brother was in a stalemate with her three year old daughter, who had shed her purple dress and now had Mathras’s cellphone in her hands, which were still covered in chocolate. She was racing around the room as Mathras, who had her dress clasped in his right hand tried to catch her. For a high school and college athlete her brother was having quite the time trying to catch her. Tamaris saw the direction that her daughter was headed in and knew her trickster ways, she was able to cut the toddler off and scoop her up just as Shivana was about to open Mathras’s photo gallery. “That’s not yours Shivana!” Tamaris scolded as she snatched the phone from her now screaming daughter’s hands and held it out for her brother to take. 

“Thank you,” Mathras breathed as he took the phone, slightly out of breath. “My word… like how do you do it?” He asked rather seriously. 

Which just caused Tamaris to laugh softly as she took Shivana’s dress from her brother. “Coffee, Coffee, Coffee, Elfroot, Wine, Elfroot, Wine… repeat…” Tamaris smirked.

Her brother laughed softly as he nodded. “I mean, it sounds like a solid routine.” He reached out and patted his sister on the arm. “Can I do anything to help?” He asked sweetly, a gesture that Tamaris would not have expected from him. She made a mental note that Dorian must be domesticating her former party animal brother. 

With a blissful sigh Tamaris nodded towards the kitchen. “Help Dorian with dinner so I can toss her into a bath, Solas should be home soon and we have to eat right when he gets home. No mucking about… I am not having Shivana miss Trick or Treating again this year.” Tamaris was not living up to her dreams of domestic goddesshood. Though her husband never asked for such feats, Tamaris still tried to be that perfect Pinterest mom. Yet most of her projects lay half finished and she was walking mess, far from the woman she was when she was one of the hosts of The Tea during her brush with fame.

Mathras smiled warmly at his sister as he patted her shoulder.“There was a bloody war last year, Tamaris! Geeze I think we can forgive you for that one.” He kissed her cheek as he went to leave. “I am assuming you keep everything in the most logical places… you aren’t keeping pots in the stove again?” 

“Whats wrong with that?” Tamaris asked confused. 

Mathras chuckled as he shook his head. “Nevermind, you are just like Mamae… go get her in the bath before you are the one that makes us late!” He teased gesturing for her to go. 

Tamaris was getting Shivana dressed after her bath when she heard her front door open and a chorus of ‘Hellos’ from her brother, Dorian, her husband and a female voice. Tamaris pursed her lips as she pulled Shivana’s costume on over her head head. “Oh I guess he just decided that sure let’s bring Merrill home… let’s not even ask the wife…” Tamaris gumbled not thinking that her daughter was actually listing. 

“I like Merrill, she is funny and nice.” Shivana pointed out softly as she stuck her head through the top of the costume. The little auburn haired girl smiled up at her mother. “You say ‘be nice’ to me…” She pointed out using Tamaris’s own words against her. 

Looking down at her daughter Tamaris scowled. “Stop sounding like your father and put on the bottoms to your costume.” There was an edge of jokingness in her voice but Tamaris still noted how harsh she sounded as she knelt down. “I mean, we gotta get moving sweetheart, you don’t want to miss the Trick or Treating, right?” This time her voice was much softer as pulled up the bottom half ‘The Hawk’ costume and handed her the mask to carry before standing back up. “Only put on the mask after dinner, do not eat with the mask on… understood?” 

“Yes Mamae…” The little girl said nodding her head. The glint of mischief in her bright blue eyes told Tamaris otherwise. “Can I do say hi to Bae now?” 

Tamaris nodded with soft smile. “Sure, let’s go…” The little girl took her mother’s hand and started to almost drag her back down the stairs. Tamaris had felt like she hadn’t sat down for more than two minutes all day between picking up her brother and Dorian from the airport, to running back to the store when she realized that she had eaten more the good candy they had bought. It wasn’t till she saw the look her husband gave her did she realize what was her biggest mistake of the day. “Shite.” She muttered as Shivana dropped her hand and raced over to her father’s waiting arms. 

Solas had not been expecting Tamaris’s brother, so he was rather shocked to see him and Dorian Pavus in his kitchen making spaghetti just a few moments before. As he lent down pick up his daughter who was wearing a ridiculous costume and not the one he had thought they agreed on several weeks early in the store. “Hello, sweetheart.” He greeted Shivana kissing her on the cheek once she was settled in her his arms. 

“Look! I am Uncle Garett! See!” The child exclaimed excitedly pulling at her costume as if her father had no idea what she was talking about. 

Solas forced a smile for his daughter as he nodded. “I see, da’ean… why don’t go show you actual Uncle in the kitchen.” He kissed her cheek again before setting her down on the wood floor of the hall. Shivana raced down the hall and into the kitchen trying to make a dramatic entrance. There was a roar of laughter from the kitchen yet Shivana’s parents stood in the hall looking at each other. 

Tamaris’s eyes were cast at her bright green socks not wanting to look at her husband as she started to mutter. “I know… I know...  you don’t even have to say anything Solas.” Tamaris mumbled shaking her head. “I really thought I told you days ago they were coming…” 

“No, no you did not.” Solas began as he reached out and took his wife’s hand. Tamaris’s gaze lifted as tried to read his face. From the way his brow was tense she could tell he was still annoyed, but as warm smile crept across his lips her fears eased. “It will be fine, I mean I forgot to text you to tell you they push trick or treating back till tomorrow because of the weather..” Tamaris’s eyes grew wide at the last part of his statement. Her head snapped around to look out the window, while it was slightly overcast it didn’t look like rain. 

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she pulled her hand away from her husband to gesture towards the window. “Did they like look outside?” Solas shrugged and gave her a weak smile. He knew how much doing the silly tradition meant to Tamaris. Shivana had been born during such a turbulent time in Kirkwall that so many of the simple things like birthday parties and trick or treating got pushed aside for the sake of survival. Solas reached out and took Tamaris’s hand trying to get her to look back at him. 

“Vhenan, listen.” He started finally getting her attention. “We will just do it tomorrow… it’s really not that much of an issue.” Solas was trying his best to reassure her. His hand moved to caress her arm. “I am sure Shivana will understand…” Tamaris rolled eyes knowing full well their daughter had talked of nothing else since she had woken up that morning. 

“Yeah, sure…” Tamaris muttered before leaning forward finally giving Solas a peck on the lips and asking him, “So, how was work?” She asked trying to get back to their normal routine, even if it was just for a moment. 

Solas laughed dismissively as he waved his hand not wanting to discuss it. “It was a day,” He took Tamaris’s hand once more, “Let’s go see what our child is subjecting those poor adults too..” 

Tamaris laughed softly as they began to walk down the hall. “She already made Dorian sing baby shark with her…” 

Solas chuckled as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “See, that is why you should have told me they were coming, I could have taken off work. I can't believe I missed that.” They both laughed as they walked into the kitchen to find Merrill and Dorian, with Shivana sitting in his lap at the kitchen table while Mathras was dumping the cooked pasta in the strainer. 

“Go sit, I will bring the food..” Mathras said cheerfully with a bright smile. 

Tamaris stood in shock for a second before letting go of Solas’s hand and walking over to her brother. She placed her hand on his forehead like she was checking for a temperature. She then grabbed his face and looked into his deep dark violet eyes. “What have you done with my brother…” She continued to hold his face as she turned back to Solas. “I think his possessed…by like a friendly spirit or something.” 

Mathras took as step back, pulling his head away from his sister’s grasp. “Shut up and go sit down before I change my mind and become an asshole again.” Tamaris took a step back as Solas walked up behind her and placed his hands on her waist, gently guiding her towards the kitchen table where the others were seated. Shivana was laughing up at Dorian as he held out his phone taking a video. 

“Say it again, Shivana…” Dorain instructed as he hit record. 

The little girl giggled behind her hands as she looked up into the camera. “But, Mae says…” Shivana started to question him. 

“I’ll take the blame just say it…” Dorian urged again as he kissed her cheek. 

With a impish giggle Shivana looked straight into the camera and said “Vishante kaffas..” before for falling to to a fit of laughter, which was not being helped by Merril giggling behind her hands, trying to hide her amusement.

“That’s such a horrible thing to teach a child..” Merrill started trying her best to sound serious once she noticed the child’s parents taking their seats across the table from her. “She is very impressionable..” She added when she saw the not so amused look on Solas’s face.

“Yes, I agree…” Solas added as he glared at Dorian. “I do not appreciate you teaching my daughter Tevene, let alone curses…” He turned to his wife some back up but Tamaris was fighting the urge to chuckle herself. 

“It was a little funny to hear it sound so sweet..” Tamaris muttered as she glanced over her shoulder to see her brother carrying a large bowl with the pasta in one hand and another bowl in his other that held the sauce. “Do you go it Mathras?” 

“All good..” He strained as he round around Dorian and set the past down first and then the sauce. “You wanna get the salad out of the fridge though.” Tamaris nodded before retrieving the salad rather impressed by the spread that her brother and Dorian hand manged to throw together. 

They enjoyed their quite meal, Shivana spending the majority of it sitting in Dorian’s lap listening to him tell her all about what things were like in Tevinter. It was a conversation none of them had expected the child to be interested in but Shivana was curious little girl and fairly bright for her age. When their meal was finished Merril helped Mathras clear the plates as Tamaris and Solas glanced at each other signalling they had put off telling Shivana long enough. 

“Dorian why don’t you finish helping them, we need to talk to Shivana a moment.” Tamaris suggested. Dorian gave her brief smile before Shivana climbed down from his lap and walked over to her mother’s chair. Her small hands gripped the arm of the chair, her chin resting on them and two large blue eyes staring up at Tamaris questioning what she had done. Tamaris smiled down at her daughter and ran her hand over her auburn locks. “So, Bae told me something when he got home that I think is going to make you a little sad…” The toddler scowled, her eyes narrowing in on her father’s face behind Tamaris. “It’s not his fault, but Trick-or-Treating has been put off till tomorrow.” 

“No candy?” The little girl quickly questioned sternly. 

Solas leaned forward to look at his daughter, “Not tonight, tomorrow… it’s supposed to rain, da’ean. It would be no fun.” 

Shivana looked back at the other adults as they were rinsing dishes. “No Candy!” She exclaimed again drawing the attention of the others. A pout grew across her lips as she sunk to the floor with disappointment. “No Candy!” She declared again, looking up at her mother as if she was about to cry. 

Pushing his chair back, Solas stood up and went over his daughter, picking her up. Shivana’s arms wrapped around his neck as she buried her face against the fabric of his suit jacket. “It’s just candy, da’ean… we have candy…” For a moment he glanced back at his wife to make sure he wasn’t making promises that he couldn’t keep. Tamaris smiled and nodded. “So you don’t even have to leave the house, we can do trick or treat right here…” He then glanced over at the other adults who were all nodding. “How does that sound?” Shivana nodded against his shoulder before peering up her father. 

“My own trick or treat?” She asked softly. “Just for me…” Solas nodded and suddenly all the sadness that had been in the child’s eyes disappeared as she lifted her head looked back at her uncles and Merrill. “You gotta give me candy!” She giggled. 

After dinner was put away, the adults gathered in the living room with the large bowl of candy. They passed the bowl around as Shivana stopped at each adult as they sat around the room. With a bright smile she would say “Trick or Treat” and wait for the large handful of sweets to fall into her bright orange plastic pumpkin. She made several rounds before deciding when half the contents of bowl ended up in her bucket was she satisfied with her bounty and crawled up on the couch between her parents as she started to dig through. Merrill left soon after, siting a date or something with Carver. Dorian and Mathras had settled on the loveseat across from Tamaris and her little family having a hushed conversation amongst themselves as the evening wound down.

They settled into a pleasant silence as Shivana sat carefully picking through her candy to find the ones she wanted the most. Solas leaned over Shivana’s shoulder and plucked one of the chocolate from the top of her bucket as a smirk played on his lips watching the litter gir glare up at him. “What?” He asked softly at the child’s glare. Shivana turned her nose up at him as she protectively covered the bucket protectively. “Oh can’t share with your father?” He asked softly.

The toddler scowled, “You didn’t ask… Mamae always gets made if I don’t ask.” She declared and Tamaris smirked on the other side of her as she looked up from her book. 

“She has a point, Solas…” Tamaris noted with a sly smirk. 

“See Bae…” Shivana said with a smug little smile that reminded Solas far too much of his own. 

“You…” He teased as he leaned over and started tickling his daughter. Her laughter caused Dorian and Mathras to pause their conversation for a moment and look over with broad smiles on their faces and Shivana dumped the bucket of candy onto the floor as Solas grabbed ahold of her placing a kiss on her cheek as he laughed. “When did you get so clever? Huh?” He teased and little girl squealed with glee. Laughter filled the house that night, despite the threat of rain ruining the planned events. 

Tamaris smiled broadly as she watched her happy little family enjoy the holiday in their own way, because some traditions are made out the need to calm a toddler’s tantrum over candy. 

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Depths Below, Masquerade, Part 10

[Part 10, The Conclusion!, There has been blood and there will be death. ]

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“No!” she snapped, peering toward the collective group.  “Do NOT stop until I get what I am here for. . .”

She turned and suddenly; without warning, her hands coiled under his bloodied collar and she jerked him upward to look at him.  Her eyes began to swirl in a purple haze.

“What are you talking about?  How do you know me? Answer!” she said again, though much more loud and by shaking him several times.

“I speak of your history. . .I was. . .” he said being jerked back and forth. “I was the one in charge of your recovery after the fall of the Sunwell. I found you, coiled in the arms of your mother when the Scourge had broken through the gates of our city.  You were helplessly clinging to her. . . I snatched you up, she was still alive and begged me to take her.  But I knew I could not save you both. . .”

Vari slowly turned; by now she had calmed, but her eyes narrowed at the discovery.  Koltun already knew to step between her and the table lest she leap and body slam him through it.  The demons clawed hands were holding her back.  She was wide eyed, and as in shock as Siida.  This man, this. . .pathetic being, he was so closely tied to their history.  But how?

“I left her to die. . . used her as bait to lure them. . .to get away and save us both, stealing you away and hoping to better your life.  The recovery process was your memory wipe and barricade.  We wanted to block the memory of your past; and place you with a wealthy house to help educate and further your success. . . I had no idea you had a living heir. . . “

Dawnseeker struggled to stay upright, but slowly he would be lowered back to the table as Siida’s strength waned.

She was in shock now.  Her eyes were fully coated in the void she had tried so hard to keep buried down inside.  Her jaw was tight, teeth clenched together while she clung to his collar.  The words had entered her mind but she could almost not believe it.  It was him, all along.  He was the link between them all.

“Siida. . .” Marseille said softly as he tried to connect to her, his hands were still locked holding the spell. “Sennaris, enough. . .”

Both Verzatea and Sennaris had already begin to transfer their energies back to themselves when the spell around them started to drop.  As the group felt the veil that was surrounding them lift, Marseille too would be able to drop his hands from channeling. But it was too late.

Before he could step beside her, Siida had already lost her control.

Her eyes burst into a violet flame that had caused her flesh and hair to turn near pale white.  She coiled her fingers around the neck of the Magister and had climbed nearly on top of him.  The fury that had built up over the years of her life.  The abuse and neglect she suffered living in a house that knew she was nothing more than an orphan.  The pain of having to live alone.  Having to find her brother and sister; this family, only to have it almost ripped away.

She screamed, and a sudden burst of violet fire had sent the group hurdling backward from its recoil.  She was seething and dripping with dark magics that seemed to be burning holes in the table and floor the longer she held it.  Dawnseeker was all but lost to this, his head rolling backward and his body going limp.  Siida was enraged beyond control and belted out another banshee wail, much like her older sister.

The burning void energy began to peel bits of flesh from the Magister as he lay there helpless to defend himself.  Verzatea and Marseille were working hand in hand to protect the group, sheltering them with a shield of sorts which was more or less their only defense against this type of anger filled magic.

She continued to scream and shake, her body convulsing while she abused the helpless man with fury.  

“You took everything from me!”

“I should have died beside my mother but instead you took her from me!   You took my brother, and my safety. . . You took everything!”  the pain behind those words caused the eyes of the fel user to come to life.  Had he finally met his end?

Siida charged one final time and with as much force as she could muster, ignited her ability to its full potential and instantly vaporized the man.  He was burned from head to toe, and so heavily that the second wave had caused his insides to begin to boil.

She wailed harder and harder which she charged up the suppressed anger, and in a third and final pulse, shattered him from the inside out, and left him as a stain of particles and dust, scattered across the table.

She would have probably continue to assault the world in her fury, until a plated hand fell across her shoulder.  It dawned instantly on her who would be so bold as to brave the painful burning of her inner flames; and she turned.  

Vari was standing there, taking on whatever remained of her anger; her stern eyes and stoic expression suddenly eclipsed her mind and caused that wave of anger to instantly vanish.   She had lost.  Everything became terrifying in the wake of such a violent onslaught, and she dove into Vari’s chest and collapsed in tears.

The rest of them could hardly remain doing anything else but staring.   Watching the two sisters grieve not only on the loss of what they had fought so hard to find; but the procurement of knowledge they’d both hoped to sooner forget.  The entire time they’d know one another and neither had a more clear picture of the future than this simple greedy man, who now was a stain of dust.

Verzatea and Sennaris both held their heads high, while Zoei lowered her own gaze.  She still felt guilt over what had happened; the reveal of everything that had built up to this very moment causing her to hitch a breath in her chest.  She turned suddenly and peered out the large windows leading to the bay.  Fireworks still launched high into the air; the guards of Honeywell still insisting nobody return.  They had been successful yet again; but not without a cost.

The three powerful women rallied together and without another glance; would hurry to make a hasty exit from the blood drenched party room.  There was nothing left for any of them here.

Whistletorque had sauntered back over to his contraption, and without another word; the button on the left side would deactivate the still turning record player which skipped, the turret that spun and the band that moved.  It collapsed everything under the stage and folded itself down into a neat and convenient suitcase which was promptly gathered.

The two sisters shared a wordless embrace before quietly turning and making their way from their own stage.  Vari quick to gather the talisman of her fallen brother from the pile of ash that lay where Dawnseeker once was.  Koltun would follow in suit; the demon sending a clawed fist into the door frame as they passed; cracking it on contact.

Marseille would be the last and was quick to begin staging the scene to look as though there had been a murder.  His deft mind and hands working in unison. He would gather whatever evidence he found would be incriminating, and hurried to tidy up any sign they would have been there.  But it would be Sunwood who was plucked from the group before he could attempt to exit.

“Where are you going?”  he asked softly, his fingers still curled around his collar as he drug him back.

“W-what. . .what do you mean, I am leaving with the rest of you all. . .” the portly man suggested as he peered into the white burning eyes of the pale old elf.

His response to that was a resounding no, but silent, and in the form of his shaking head.

“No. . .I’m. . n-not going with you?” he mumbled as his body turned to face Marseille.

“No.”  he said this time. “You are going to remain here and play the part you needed for.  The part you were born to play.”

Sunwood suddenly felt his eyes widen, his body running cool and chilled yet a warmth spilled over his flesh and ran down his chest causing him to open his mouth wide to speak, though the words never came out.

Marseille was holding a broken piece of mirrored glass that had been shattered during the onslaught.  The old elf was painted crimson across his face and neck; bleeding down onto his chest where the fresh burn mark had scarred him.  His hand was bloody and lowering the weapon; it was conveniently vaporized in his palm as a charge of arcane energy swirled around it.

“You will live.  You will be the martyr that allows the masses to see the monster that has fled from this place, and must be stopped.”

Marseille slowly lowered the bleeding man from his standing position and placed him on the floor by the slaughtered remains of the other Magisters.

“You will never utter a single word for as long as you live; but your scars will be a reminder to the world that you were but a pawn in a game that was far too high over your head.”  the Shaldorei continued by cleaning up the dust piles and using his energy to finish them to the smallest of particles.

“Dawnseeker did this. . . and upon killing them, spared you for bringing him what it was he needed most.  And in time; Siida Ray Kash’ebahl will return a hero to Silvermoon City, when she resurfaces from the clutches of the madman behind the Honeywell Masquerade Massacre.  You. . . will continue to be our eyes and ears; for that is all you are good for anymore.  The agreement. . .stands as is.”

Marseille peered down at the wide eyed Magister. Everything that had happened up until this point; he knew he would not get out of this unscathed.  But life was worth living as long as his family was safe.  He would have no choice but to play along; he knew what these people were capable of.

“Magister Sunwood. . . it would please me greatly if this incident remained between us.  You have been most valuable to my Master despite his apparent demise.  Do not. . . forget that I am always watching.”  

And with that, the last member of the Order would make his way toward the exit of the bloodied pavilion.  His white hot eyes glazing over a softened pink hue as his body began to mellow and calm.

Soon the guests would return to their party and find a not so welcome affair had taken place.  Rumors would spread and the masses would gather; knights and the higher authority would be called into action.  And a manhunt to locate the rogue apostate mage Dawnseeker would commence.  But they would never find him; they would never locate his body.  All they would find were the bodies of his victims; the witness and hope that one poor Siida-Ray Kash’ebahl would not meet the same fate as her fellow party goers.  

As for The Nine, they would return to their hallowed bastion.  Lick their wounds and prepare for the ceremonious burial of their brother, their friend, of their lover and confidant.  Now was not the time to waste on sentiment, they would have to gather behind the support of one another and press on, otherwise it would be more than just one life lost in this tragic affair.....

To be completed:  “In Depths Below: Epilogue, Part 1″

@siidaraykashebahl

@whatadarkbitch

@zandalaridruidofgonk

@suncrest-legacy

@madame-miersae  (just so you dont miss it lol)

@pyravari-kashebahl

@thebladeitself

[lichlover]

hey there fic writer write me a fic! Lup and Krav bro time W/ or W/out barold ur choice

well i can hardly say no to reaper squad bonding

“Lup, I think your husband’s copying necromantic incantations again.”

“That so?” Kravitz’s coworker, as he’s learned, flat out refuses to properly sit at desks. She’s come up with all manner of creative ways to lounge at this one, but right now she’s settled for one of the classics—back arched, feet up, with a book propped on her stomach. Every now and then a new multi-paged contract materializes and drops onto a steadily growing pile with an unceremonious thump. Lup doesn’t bat an eye. “I’ll take a look at what he’s hoarding. Barry’s a real sucker for that stuff, you get it.”

Kravitz shoots a look at the poster hanging just adjacent to his desk. DON’T RAISE THE DEAD, it reads, in cheery block letters. RAISE YOUR WORK ETHIC INSTEAD!

“Necromancy,” he says, slowly.

Lup raises an eyebrow at him over the soles of her dark, chunky boots. He can see where Taako gets his unique sense of style from—and vice versa, he supposes. “Sure. You wanna multiclass, go big or go home, am I right?”

“We—we literally hunt necromancers. You know that, right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

She tosses him an eerily familiar grin, all crooked angles and sharp edges and unmistakably charming. “I’m messing with you, skele-man. Loosen up, okay? We don’t endorse necromancy over in the Bluejeans-whatever household. If Barry goes shopping for ingredients in any occult rituals, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

“I…” How is he supposed to respond to that? “Thank you,” Kravitz says, after a truly depressing pause, and returns to the latest draft of a debriefing.

Time is relative in the astral plane, but by anyone’s standards, Barry and Lup are fairly new at their jobs. Kravitz feels like he’s taken on an entirely different occupation. He’s starting to understand what it’s like for his queen; wrangling two reapers is difficult by anyone’s standards, and wrangling two reapers with a flair for the dramatic is even worse. Where Kravitz had once dreaded office workdays, he’s started to look forward to the peace and quiet they bring.

Lup, on the other hand, is one prison uniform short of languishing. She flips a page with one pitch-black nail and scans over it, gaze half-lidded, chewing on the edge of her lip. There’s something about her that’s unreadable in an entirely different way; she doesn’t claim to be an open book like Taako does, but her blatant honesty is a special kind of off-putting that makes Kravitz think she’s actually full of underhanded motives. No one’s just that… blunt. Lup’s the real deal, but she’s also incredibly intelligent, and if she’s anything like Taako Kravitz knows there’s a hell of a lot more beneath the surface.

A surface he’s barely grazed. He’s dating her brother, for his queen’s sake. He needs to make an effort around her.

So he sets down his pen. “What’re, uh… what’re you reading?”

Her ears twitch, and she looks up at him with the book in hand. “Sattler’s Principles of Possession and Arcane Awareness. Magic essence stuff. You should check it out, I’m starting to see the appeal of taking a spin in someone else’s body.”

Death doesn’t possess people, Kravitz wants to say. Instead he says, “Quite a read for a weekday afternoon, huh?”

“Oh, I eat this stuff up. Ask anybody. Barry and I love talking hypotheticals, y’know. The absolute craziest scenarios.” Lup grins. “If for some reason the plane of magic ever collapses and elementals become supercharged by their corresponding planes, we’ll know how to dismantle ’em with science.”

The arcane sciences are a bit over Kravitz’s head, and he says so.

“Sure, sure,” she concedes, “but you’ve got some firsthand knowledge of the occult ’n such, right? Don’t sell yourself short, babe. We’ve all got our niches.”

“Gods,” says Kravitz, without thinking. “Firsthand knowledge is putting it lightly.”

Lup’s ears twitch again and perk up, flicking stray hairs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He can feel a headache manifesting itself at the very thought. “To start, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been summoned as an emissary of the Raven Queen.”

“You are an emissary of the Raven Queen.”

“Yes, but it’s like—I mean, they summon me and I can’t very well go—” Kravitz puts on his accent. “ ‘You’ve reached the Raven Queen’s office. You’re not important enough to demand her presence, so leave a message and I probably won’t pass it on.’ ”

A snort, followed by a snicker. Lup’s composure snaps, and she giggles, tossing her book onto the desk with a loud thump. “Oh, holy shit. Imagine if you actually said that. Like a fuckin’ voicemail. What do they even want?”

“The usual. Wishing to transcend death or wish it upon their enemies. I had someone tell me once they were seeking a deal with the devil, which—” He huffs, and the feathers around his mantle ruffle sympathetically. “That’s just rude, really.”

Lup clicks her tongue, but her lips are still twitching, and her voice is staccato with mock seriousness. “You’d think if somebody was summoning Death they’d do their research.”

“Honestly,” says Kravitz, and a smile is playing across his face, even though he’s not quite sure why. She tends to have that effect, he’s found. This conversation has no bearing on their work—or anything else relevant, for that matter—but the tension has lessened in his shoulders and the impending crick is dissipated from his neck. Suddenly the paperwork in front of him looks a little more manageable.

He’s having fun at work, and with the most intimidating lich this side of the astral plane, no less.

The air crackles with ozone, and a familiar blade appears in the air, ripping apart the fabric of reality. Barry steps through and catches his heel on the rift, but recovers just in time to lean casually against Lup’s desk. “What’s up, guys? What’d I miss?”

Lup just stares at him and starts giggling again. For the life of him (ha), Kravitz can’t figure it, but he chuckles too.

“What?” says Barry, as the rift dissolves behind him. “Did I do it wrong? C’mon, you gotta give me pointers if I’m doing it wrong.”

It’s been a long, tedious day, and maybe it’s that delirium—or maybe it’s Lup, his truly ridiculous coworker and member of an even more ridiculous family. But Kravitz shakes his head and levels an apologetic hand at Barry, because all he can do is laugh.

[pillowenvelopchair]

"Our paths diverged long ago. It was affection that held us together." HELLO? HELLO??????????????

“My place has always been in the lab with you” bro 😭 😭 😭