#briefly: rook hunt

[yuus-sentient-teddy]

Old Note: This came to me the night before Book 7 got updated on the JP server. I'm also waiting for translations, but from what I've been hearing, there's speculation that the squad will be traveling to other dreams and waking up the rest of the main cast.

New Note: Tada *jazz hands* here it is after how many months.

The Hall of Mirrors is in shambles, and the cause for its state is still wrecking havoc.

"Those ear. . . there's no way that's Grim!" Ace says. He and the others didn't enter this dream by falling from the sky. They all just opened their eyes and found themselves lying on the broken ground, wearing their ceremonial robes and lightly covered in dust.

"Hang on, where's Yuu?"

"Over there!" Silver hurries over to a dark shape that almost blends against what remains of a stone column. Anyone would have missed the shape if that person couldn't see the white glowing bird circling over Yuu's head.

They're groaning while slowly sitting up. "Are you okay, Prefect?"

"Yeah. What about you? Are you and everyone else okay?"

"We're fine, just a little scratched up," Ace says as he and the others gather around.

Yuu nods. "Good."

They look at the menacing form of their partner and their eyes immediately fill with despair. "God. I can't believe he turned into that," they say quietly. "And the Mirror. . ."

Gasps erupt as multiple eyes spy it among the rubble.

"It's. . . shattered?!" Deuce says.

"Prefect, are you okay?" Epel asks, remembering their longing for home.

Yuu swallows and smothers whatever emotion is on their face, quickly donning an expression that would suit a calm advisor (it's an expression all the boys know from the Overblot situations). ". . . We'll talk about that later. Right now, we need to get Grim back to normal. I think we should do some recon to get a sense of what he can now do."

"I agree with the suggestion," Rook says. "I volunteer myself to go." He then invites a few others whose skill sets may be helpful, such as Leona and Epel.

"Prefect, are you able to stand?" he asks.

"Yeah. You need me to watch out for you guys?"

"Yes, and perhaps to notice anything from a distance in contrast to us who will be closer to Grim."

"In the meantime, we'll discuss possible strategies and update them once you all come back," Vil says.

Once the recon team leaves, Ace says, "I'm just going to say this right now: why is Yuu dreaming something like this? This doesn't seem like something they want to happen. You guys saw how they acted, right?"

"It also wouldn't make sense if this is a memory," Riddle adds. "It seems like all of us are supposed to be present, but we would surely remember a disaster such as this."

"It's not just that. Something is different about this dream," Silver says. "You both are right in that it's not based on a desire nor a memory. It's something else entirely different, but I can't quite place what it is."

". . . What if it's a vision?" Ace suggests.

"What do you mean?"

"Yuu has been having weird dreams throughout the school year. They said that some of them are about the Great Seven acting villainous and that the rest are quick flashes of a black carriage and a blue beast."

There's a long period of silence as the information settles in.

"Has the Prefect have these visions while awake?" Lilia asks.

"I'm not sure--hang on." Ace's eyes widen. "Sometimes they look dazed or like they're about to faint."

"Like while they were talking to me at my farewell party?"

"Yeah. . . like that."

Another long moment of silence. In the background, someone shouts something while the chimera stomps on what's left of the ground and screeches.

"Okay, so we know the person from another world may be a seer of sorts," Idia says. "Let's get back to figuring out how to turn Grim back into a cat and get Yuu to wake up."

Somehow, despite how quickly he tried to get out of the way and the protective barriers he put up, he got hit with one of Grim's curses. It made it so hard to breathe, and his legs suddenly weren't able to support him. He wracks his brain for counter spells--but is suddenly interrupted by desperate shouts from around him.

He lifts his head as best as he could. His eyes widen.

Yuu was standing before the beast, a hand reaching. He was too far to hear what they were saying, but it was no doubt soothing words to try to get their partner back to his senses. They were even smiling calmly.

But Grim suddenly roars and lunges forward.

"Prefect!"

He shoves himself off the floor and into a run. Others are doing the same around him or are lifting their pens to summon a protective shield. He lifts a hand, but the motion gets slower and slower with each second even though he's sure he's moving quickly. It's not like he's moving through molasses, though.

No. It's more like--

Time slows to a stop. Grim's jaws are just over the Prefect's head. From what he could still see, their eyes are wide and full of shock.

. . . Then he and everyone are suddenly floating in a void, semi- surrounding an unconscious Yuu.

"What. . . the hell is this place?" Ace says. His voice echoed slightly, like he was in a small cave.

"I'm guessing Yuu didn't mention this?" Floyd says rather casually.

"Shh! Listen!" Leona interjects.

Somewhere in the darkness, there's a low voice. It grows louder until it is clear and seems to surround the NRC students; by then, they were able to identify the speaker. "The Headmaster?!"

"Guided by the Mirror of Darkness. . ."

"Guys, look up!" Numerous mirrors that look exactly like the Mirror of Darkness are suspended above them, looking down but reflecting nothing but darkness.

". . . If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror."

Yuu's eyes are still closed. A couple seconds pass, then their arm lifts and their hand reaches for something above, to the side. As if summoned by that gesture, a mirror comes down and floats above them. Their eyes slowly open.

Someone realizes he can lower himself to get a better view of the mirror, and the others follow suit.

They're just in time to see a hand coming from the darkness within the mirror. It passes through the glass, the surface momentarily rippling, and its palm is facing up. Without hesitation, Yuu takes the hand.

Light shimmers from the hands then expands, filling the whole void and momentarily blinding everyone. Once it's gone, Yuu and the mirrors are nowhere to be seen.

The Headmaster's voice rings clear:

"As flame reduces even the stars to ash,

as ice seals away even time itself,

as great trees swallow even the sky,

fear not the power of darkness. Now... demonstrate your power."

There are flashbacks to the earlier battle against Grim, except it was like the battle was repeating over and over: different combination of groups going against Grim, each combination losing regardless of the power of the spells. There was a vague sense that they've fought countless times now.

Suddenly, Yuu is back in the void, donning their ceremonial robe and lying on their back with their hands folded over their stomach, like they were sleeping in a coffin. A new voice speaks, and it's not someone any of the boys recognize.

For me, for them, for you. Time is growing short. Whatever you do, don't let go of that hand.

Blink.

They all are standing at the gates to Ramshackle Dorm.

None of them know what to say.

One of the boys is looking at his own hand, thinking back to when the person in the mirror offered their hand. "Hang on. There's a face in the shadow. It looks kind of like. . ."

He thinks he can feel the phantom sensation of someone holding his hand.

[nonovyabuisness]

A fun question popped into my head while I was watching old twisted wonderland gacha videos.

What would happen if other Twisted Wonderland characters overbloted ?

How difficult would it be to deal with them ?

How would their unique magic work in this state ?

So I have decided to make a list of headcanons for all of the non-overblot NRC students answering those questions.

Heartslabyul

Ace Trappola ❤️ :

-considering the fact that he doesn’t have his unique magic yet, he would be less difficult to deal with then others.

- But his wind magic could make things get out of hand so he still remains a threat.

- There’s not much I can say about him tbh.

Deuce Spade ♠️ :

- Already more of a problem than Ace !

- Not only is he more used to fighting without magic.

- But his Unique Magic [Bet the limit] would allow him to stock up all the damage dealt to him only to send it back to his attacker twofold.

- You would have to BET your life every time you attacked him, the only way to stop him would be to keep hitting him and hope you beat him before he releases your attacks back to you.

Cater Diamond ♦️ :

- 1 overblot is already bad.

- Now imagine that Overblot duplicating itself, all of its copies having the same abilities as the original.

- Cater’s [Split Card] boosted by the Phantom would make him an absolute nightmare.

- And he’s also pretty skilled in magic due to him being a third year.

- Let’s not forget that Cater canonically beat Floyd with his Unique Magic, He is not messing around !

Trey Clover 🍀 :

- ALSO A MASSIVE PROBLEM.

- Trey’ s [Doodle Suit] allows him to overwrite any element he chooses, including other people’s magic (As seen against Riddle’s overblot during Book 1).

- His Unique Magic is OP in this scenario especially when it is boosted by the Phantom.

- Imagine not being able to do anything at all against Trey, if it’s THAT boosted even Malleus could potentially be weakened.

- Also a 3rd year like Cater so he is definitely more adept at using magic than a regular 1st or 2nd year.

(- side tangent : In the English Manga of Twisted Wonderland, Trey’s Unique Magic is called [Doodle Suit] in the 2nd volume but it’s changed to [Paint the roses] in the 3rd volume. Like, make up your mind.)

Savanaclaw

Ruggie Bucchi 🍩 :

- Remember when he could control an entire crowd of people with his Unique Magic after drinking a potion from Azul ?

- Imagine how many people he could control now that he has a constant buff from his Phantom…

- That is terrifying.

- He could use your friends and family as a meat shield, he could force you to kill them.

- If he overblots at least one person is going to die or be severely wounded.

Jack Howl 🐺 :

- Physically speaking, Jack could do a lot of damage.

- And he can definitely maul someone by transforming into a wolf with [Unleash Beast].

- But other than those, he would be similar to Ace in the way that he is not that OP compared to others.

Octavinelle

Jade & Floyd Leech 🦈 :

- Hear me out, they would definitely overblot at the same time.

- And there would be hell to pay.

- Jade’s [Shock the heart] won’t be useful in battle, but Floyd’s [Bind the heart] would allow all attacks to miss both him and Jade.

- And while you could potentially make that magic fail by making Floyd demotivated. Something tells me that Jade might be able to make sure THAT doesn’t happen.

- They have been working together since they were born and have survived a brutal ocean. They can work together almost perfectly (as seen in the Octavinelle book)

- I also believe that they would revert back to their mer-form like Azul did and therefore be just as fast on land as they are in the sea.

(- also it’s implied that Jade chose Floyd out of all his siblings and both of them either killed/canibalized or let their siblings die. The Ocean is its own kind of unforgiving jungle.)

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim 🔱 :

-Kalim’s overblot would be sad not because of his backstory but because unlike the others overblots.

- He would (un)consciously use his Unique Magic [Oasis Maker] (a symbol of life) to drown both himself and everyone else.

- After all he can fill up an entire dried river while using very little magic, imagine that paired with the Phantom Boost.

- He would probably overblot because of guilt or pent up sadness and that would lead him to…

Flood the whole world with his tears.

Pomefiore

Rook Hunt 🪶:

- While not physically dangerous, Rook is an excellent hunter and manipulator.

- He knows almost everything about everyone.

- He knows how they look, how they act, who they cherish most and what their weaknesses are.

- His objective would probably be to capture every person that he finds ‘beautiful’ and to try and keep them by his side forever like precious art pieces.

- FULL ON YANDERE

- Worst part is his Unique Magic [I see you] allows him to know EXACTLY where you are. And you won’t know if you you have been targeted by him since it’s magical signature is extremely weak.

- It also works on objects !

- Even if you manage to hide somewhere he can’t reach, he could still use a family member or another loved one to lure you out.

- He’s not scary because he is super-powerful, he is scary because he knows exactly what you are going to do and how to exploit your weaknesses.

Epel Felmier 🍎 :

— While normally he wouldn’t too threatening due to him being a weaker magician than Vil.

- His Unique Magic [Sleep Kiss] allows him to trap people/robots into crystal coffins that make the victim fall asleep.

- They would be forever trapped inside a glass coffin making them unable to be hurt but also unable to stop Epel.

- The only saving grace is that Epel’s Unique Magic has a 75% hit rate. So there’s a 25% chance that he misses. It’s better than nothing !

Ignihyde

They technically both overbloted. So….next.

Diasomnia

Lilia Vanrouge 🦇 :

- Him overblotting would probably make all of his magic come back as if he was in his prime.

- And Lilia is scary powerful to begin with but he can potentially go toe to toe with Malleus if he has both his experience as well as his original magical and physical abilities (as seen in Book 7).

- His Unique Magic wouldn’t be very useful in this case but he is still a very big threat to everyone around him while he’s in Overblot.

Silver (Vanrouge) 🗡️ :

- Similar to Jack in the sense that…

- While he is physically powerful (swordsmanship and being taught by Lilia) and is probably extremely adept at using magic.

- I don’t think he is too much of a threat since his Unique Magic [Meet in a dream] only works if he’s asleep and won’t affect anyone who is awake.

- So unless his Unique Magic somehow becomes like Malleus (makes everyone fall asleep/ traps everyone in a dream) or he overblots while everyone is asleep.

- He won’t be too much of a threat unlike others.

Sebek Zigvolt 🐊 :

- While less powerful than Silver and less adept at magic (according to book 7 anyway).

- Sebek’s [ Living Bolt] would make him a bit more threatening due to his Unique Magic allowing him to turn his body into lightning allowing him to be faster and stronger.

- And while the boost will make it so he can use his magic for longer periods of time, I have no doubt that it would cause him so much pain that he would be weak enough to be defeated.

Here we are, my hand hurts and I spent two hours on this !

Feel free to add your own headcanons to this rant !

Have a good day/night !

[babycatglimmer]

An analysis of the trio of light, their emotions and their cards from book 7

WARNINGS: bias, overthinking, yapping, delulu, spoilers from book 7, personal theories, daydreaming and thousands of other things.

In all of Twst, so far, there are only 3 characters with light magic. These are Rook Hunt, Silver Vanrouge and Kalim Al Asim. And they, in turn, are the only ones who during book 7 won cards with the same element present.

The only sources of light in the game are also the only ones who cry during their cards. Even though in the main story they are not the only ones who cry in moments of stress or relief, Ruggie for example, they are the only ones who have received cards crying.

Initially I found this a curious choice, but the more you analyze it the more you realize that this occurrence comes from how, unlike most characters, these cards reflect the end of an internal arc for them.

Rook: Throughout book 6, Rook gives hints about how much Vil's overblot affected him psychologically. He talks about nightmares very briefly, and how he still seems stuck in that moment to the point that he risks EVERYTHING to save Vil, even though he knows how irresponsible he is being.

Rook feels guilt, he blames himself completely for Vil's overblot and it clearly haunts him psychologically. It's something that eats away at him, something that is so deep that it even affected his dreams, and that in a twisted way kept Rook far away from Vil in his dream world.

It was this guilt that woke him up, this regret, this sadness, this trauma that haunts him completely. And this is reflected in his card, being the first time we see Rook without his barriers, the guilt, pain and sadness dripping from every expression. He loves Vil, and this pain, the feeling of being a traitor, hurts him more than any arrow.

And it is in this pain that we see Rook's true facet. A boy who loves too much, who feels too much, but who hid it all with his hunter's mask. But as a contemporary poet would say, he is just a man who was making an irrelevant choice but at the same time changed everything.

Kalim: In many ways, Kalim carries a toxic positivity. He tries to see the good side of everything and everyone as much as possible, but he constantly ignores his own discomfort or completely negative emotions.

What is not good, what is not healthy, the way Kalim lives in eternal denial and always suppressing EVERYTHING inside himself.

Until he became furious. In that dream, with that version that practically mocks Jamil, Kalim found himself completely irritated and disgusted. Angry at himself, angry at Malleus and angry at everything that had happened before. It is in this anger that Kalim finally fully computes the events of book 4, it is in this anger that he understands his own feelings and those of others.

He cries because he is frustrated, angry and tired. He cries for everything he has been through, for everything he has been denied, and he cries because it was all stupid and unfair. Kalim, who constantly smiles and brings joy, for the first time is completely tired of the fake smiles and his own denial of reality. Smiling would not change his and Jamil's situation, smiling was not helping him at all.

From a passive smile to determined anger.

Silver: The only one of the three whose tears did not come from stress or frustration, but from pure and genuine relief.

Unlike the others, Silver has always had difficulty showing what he feels. It is said several times that people cannot tell what he is feeling. He has always been different from the others because of this.

"Too human for the fairies."

"Too fairy for humans."

This is actually a very present theme in Silver's narrative, and during book 7 the human factor is put in his face as a doubt. A doubt about Lilia's love and his place by Malleus' side.

At every moment the need to choose, to hide a past he never knew, to discover what his real role is in the narrative of this story. Is he the knight in shining armor who will kill the monster? Is he the prince of an enemy kingdom, who will once again make the same mistakes as his father? Is he one of Malleus Draconiana's followers, trying his best to save his prince from himself?

And the answer? He is Silver Vanrouge, son of Lilia Vanrouge and brother of Malleus. He is not a prince or a knight, he is a brother, a friend and a son. He, who managed to save the people he loved so much, cries with joy and relief for this.

Silver reached his happy ending, surrounded by people who loved him as much as he loved them. People who could not care less where he came from, because the fact was clear who he was.

He was Lilia's little boy, who would fall asleep anywhere spontaneously and unexpectedly.

He was Malleus' little brother, who always smiled in his presence and who always wanted to stay by his side.

He was Sebek's rival, who grew up together both in power and internally. The one who would be by his side, both with the same dream and desire.

They all cry for the same reason, as they have finally finished their stories.

The hunter is still loved by the queen, as she never saw his actions as a betrayal.

The sultan and the sorcerer finally understand each other, they finally understand that they complement each other and do not depend on each other. And together, they can achieve freedom.

The little soldier can now finally smile with relief, as he has finally acquired proof that he has a home to return to.

Simply beautiful, don't you agree?

[twistedpink]

Rook Hunt x Shapeshifter!Reader

The hardest thing you’ve ever done in your long, long life is climb the corporate ladder. The idol one, to be precise. Humans just can’t be pleased! It’s proven! With all your visual tweaks, and genre changes, and half-assed performances (that was later - your first couple debuts were flawless), you’re done. Officially, depressingly, quitting. The only thing to do with all the names and character ideas in the back of your head is retire, and focus on the “natural” path. Eating the people you wanted to have love you. In a way, it’s not all that different..

You’ll almost miss the limelight- Certainly not the stalkers and spandex, but definitely the attention. The best place in the modern world to avoid your past identities, believe it or not, is the city! Morphing into someone approachable’s easy game- You smooth out your celebrity cheekbones, let the fat of your chest and thighs redistribute into an average body, and when you’re just about done changing the shape of your teeth, it’s time to meet up with your date!

Humans are easy, a breed of mundane that you’d never find among your own kind- So unguarded in this era of seeing thousands of faces, how are you supposed to pick out things to steal if you don’t have firsthand experience? A mole here, or a scar there, human features definitely outweigh their.. Unfortunate intelligence.

Your date is perfect, as they always are with you. A tall, sunkissed blonde with a strong nose and stronger accent. He’s nothing short of beautiful- So much so you’d offered dropping by your place for some drinks. You wouldn’t mind taking a peek at something a bit more,, personal. He’s gullible enough to agree without further debate. They all are.

You’ve observed him the entire conversation- How his hands are calloused from work in the field, or the way his eyes react dollishly with your every word, not a thought behind those livestock eyes. He looks clean but doesn’t smell it.. He either doesn’t shower enough, or he’s peaked your senses,, You’ve been known for standing to attention with pretty boys.. Your eyes dilate when he speaks. He runs at 62 bpm, his eyes have little specks of gold, and GOD he’s trying to hold your hand! HOLD! HIS! HAND! YOU WILL DIE IF YOU DONT HOLD HIS HAND!

You’re sitting in the same booth, hot coffee sits in front of the both of you- You’re far too distracted to take a drink. You want him, Worse than you’ve ever wanted anything. The bay window’s light bathes him, like an angel.. You’re determined to make him a star. Once you’ve taken his body, of course. He’ll be your pretty muse! Give you motivation for the stage again! Your Rook. It’s torture to not lean into him, you want a bite,, :(

His vacant hand on the table reaches for his mug, and you see it happen like a stone coming at a glass house. It’d be too suspicious to react. You have to let it burn you. With a tink against the table, boiling coffee spills over the edge and onto your empty hand- Mercifully avoiding your date. While he goes to fetch a tissue, (stretching deliciously across the table) the offending wound flashes bright blues and greens in an attempt to colour match.. You really, truly hope you don’t have to explain away anything he might’ve seen. You don’t have the energy for that right now - much less to wipe yourself clean, so you let him do it. You’ve always fancied having a human or two wait on you.

“Ah! Ma puce! A touch off topic, but have you ever followed the lives of celebrities? I’m quite the fanatic, myself.”

Not one to fumble a hunt, you acquiesce. He’s a skilled multi tasker- The best a human can be, at least,,

“I do! I’m a super-fan of a newly retired poster girl for this hyperpop group,, totally gonna’ miss her stuff. Why do you ask?”

“Funny, you really do remind me of her.. In your own way. A fun coincidence, no?”

You consider, briefly, brushing him off- Ditching the project and skipping town,, There’s no point staying if your disguise isn’t perfect. Then again, why are you running in the first place from prey? This is your first human with the intuition to recognize you, even if it’s passing, you need to see how this plays out. You can’t help wondering if you might enjoy being hunted for once, if he’s really so good. The only way of knowing is to jump headfirst!

“So, how’s your schedule next Friday?”

@bju3c0re

[vigilskeep]

i’m experimenting with a new way of keeping minerva out of trouble (aka interfering with the later games in the series) by absolutely committing her to the entirely fruitless hunt for a cure to the calling, driven because her son is really adversely affected by the blight in his veins that he inherited from her. i’d tie in avernus and the architect and have each thread she follows let her down. it’s a pretty dark turn for the character to have her basically turn her back on her fellow mages despite all the power she briefly amasses, and say: none of that matters if me and mine can’t live to see it. but it does compel me. and it really compels me to have her fail in that as she’s never really failed before, for her to be a near ghoul in veilguard whose own experiments have done nothing but ruin her, and then to have mercy delivered by the actions of rook in whatever the fuck happens to the blight at the end of veilguard idk i don’t understand lore.

rook in this case would be elodie thorne, a character who minerva has never met before but who her actions in better days indirectly saved (if minerva hadn’t ended the fifth blight elodie would have been thrown at it as canon fodder; if minerva hadn’t spared loghain elodie wouldn’t be the strategist he taught her to be and wouldn’t have become who she did after adamant; if minerva wasn’t an inspiration then elodie’s dimming belief in being a hero might have been long since fully broken.) minerva always sets out to do everything on her own, believes she’s the only one she (or anyone else lol) can rely on, and there’s something fundamentally correct to me about not actually being able to save herself or what’s most important to her but being saved by the like, out of her own control, tremendous far-reaching effect she’s had on people

[mochinomnoms]

Who do you think would be the kind of dad to take their daughter on daddy daughter dates?

My dad used to do this for me and I loved it sm, imo I think everyone should experience that kind of love from their father <3

Ideally, I think all of them, cause that's just how a father should be. Who makes it a bigger deal, though? I think it's the following:

Deuce: He has such fond memories of going out with just him and his mom that I think he'd want to recreate that. He's taking his daughter out to a cute café near the house to spend some time with her and learn about her week at school. Afterwards he'll take her to play at the park and push her on the swings, blissfully listening to her happy squeals and laughter.

Riddle: His mother caused some permanent damage to his ability to make health relationships, this is just a matter of fact. Perhaps now that he's an adult, the relationship between them as improved, but Riddle is terrified of being like his mother. So, while still firm, Riddle indulges his daughter with several daddy-daughter dates, specifically once a week on Sunday from noon to 2pm. They go out to a lovely café that serves the Clover Bakery pastries and have lunch, tea, and strawberry tarts as he listens to her talk about school, friends, and her favorite books. It's his favorite event alongside your dinner dates.

Leona: Okay, so hear me out, if he were to ever have a kid, he'd spoil the shit of them to make sure that they'd never grow up they way he did. So daddy daughter dates are totally a regular thing. He orders all their favorite foods and drinks as he reserves the game room in the royal library, where he teaches her to play chess. His daughter growing up with confidence and assurance in herself is important, so he doesn't go easy on her. But he does offer very helpful tricks and advice til the day he's proud to admit she's locked him into a checkmate.

Floyd: It's less “dates” and more of “let's fuck up as much shit as we can before your other parent gets us in trouble.” Floyd thinks it's important that his daughter toughens up, so he rough houses with her when they go out, much to her delight. They've gotten kicked out of a few establishments under the sea. Azul begrudgingly lets them in his and his mother's restaurants, where they delight in tormenting him as they eat their takoyaki. They like to have fun.

Jamil: He wants to make sure that his kids know that he loves them and cherishes them no matter what, status or no status. It's hard, feeling like your parents are more concerned about the care and emotions of your charge instead of you. So he regularly takes his daughter on little dates where she can buy little treats for just herself, vent about her duties as a servant (though she gets along surprisingly well with Kalim's oldest), and offer her cuddles in the porch swing. The last one they went on, she got a pair of snake keychains, one for her and one for him. Jamil has it on his key ring when he's working.

Vil: He's thriving, actually. Daddy-daughter dates? No. Daddy-daughter outings! He has fond memories of going out with his father, even as a busy child actor. So, he takes his own daughter to the spa and shopping, instilling expensive taste much to your disapproval. Vil thinks he's simply setting her up with successful self care habits, which you can't deny. He won't mention that she allows him to use silly kid makeup on him in the privacy of their home after their shopping sprees, though. He scrubs his face clean, but always allows you to take pictures, as long as they don't get out to the press. He has an image to uphold.

Rook: The embodiment of a simp and a girl dad, Rook is so in love with his mini-him. Cause let's be real, no matter how much she might look like you, she is a Hunt through and through. Rook reserves one of his family's more remote cabins where he can take her out hunting. He's teaching her the basics of animal tracking, wildness survival, and even shooting. They do briefly turn into family trips instead of daddy-date trips after Rook has to go to the emergency room after accidentally getting shot in his shoulder. He's very proud that his daughter has figured out the basics, but she's crying, and you're frantic. Just in case of an emergency, you tag along with first aid supplies for a little while until your daughter is more confident with her bow.

Malleus: He is SO in love with being a father. He gives no shit about what's on his calendar, if it's daddy-daughter date night, then it's daddy-daughter date night! He will take her scrolling around the gardens as he holds her in his arms and tells her about all the grotesques and gargoyles on the castle. He was so lonely as a child, so he's determined to make sure his own children never feel the same. Between him and her, they have their own Gargoyle Club that meets weekly to visit other castles and admire their architecture. He's yet to convince Leona to let them visit Pride Rock Palace to look at their versions of gargoyles.

[sorceresssundries]

The Warden's Watcher

Chapter 3

AO3 link

Pairing: Emmrich x Female Rook

Warnings: Talks of death, infertility. Will become explicit in later chapters.

Little note - Taash's journey will be covered briefly in this fic, and as such their pronouns will be altered in line with the events of the game <3

“What makes you the right person to lead the fight against Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain?”

The arrogance of the man. The sheer audacity. She had spoken to him only a couple of times  in this haunted and bleak place, but she understood why he was so vilified. 

His entire demeanor bristled with confidence: the cocky lilt of his voice, the faint smirk tugging at his lips. He was a prisoner who believed himself a god. On what ground? Where were his worshippers? His temples? He was no god of Grace’s. He was a soldier who had lived so long that all he knew was war. A tired rebel who didn’t know how to function without a cause.

She didn’t know if this was truly the Fade, or some intrusion into her thoughts—or worse, some awful melding of the two. She didn’t know who was questioning who, who held the upper hand.

But Maker help her, she was tired. And angry.

“Someone has to do something,” she replied evenly, “and I am willing and able.”

“Is that all it takes?”

Solas was baiting her, of course. His words slithered in and around her defenses, searching for soft, malleable places to sink his teeth. A wolf in chains is still a wolf, and this one howled lies and half-truths. She didn’t trust him. And yet...

She needed him. Painful as it was to admit, she needed his knowledge.

Her gaze narrowed. How does one outplay the god of trickery? She tilted her head, mimicking his infuriating calm. No—she’d find his cracks, his weak points.

“Well,” she began, voice heavy with sarcasm, “unfortunately, I'm no leader of an inquisition. Perhaps, if I had a mark of Andraste...”

Ah, there. A slight tightening of his jaw.

“Is that what’s required? To be groomed by one God into the false herald of another?” she crooned.

The response was instantaneous.

“I did not groom—”

“Didn’t you?” she cut in, sharp as her Warden’s blade. “You just let her believe she was chosen? Gifted with a mark and a divine purpose that you caused ?”

His silence was damning.

“Is that what it takes, Solas?” she pressed, stepping forward, her voice gaining force. “Do I need to be another one of your pawns to be deemed worthy? You lied to all of them and used them for your ends. Am I next?”

Solas’ voice dropped low, quiet, and far too dangerous. “I suppose you’re nobody’s chess piece, are you... Rook ?”

Her lips tightened, but she didn’t respond. She knew exactly what he was doing—trying to prise apart her trust in Varric, trying to isolate her so he could divide and conquer. Chess moves upon chess moves.

“Have you been completely honest with your team?” His words slithered back in, needling. “Do they know each chapter of your past?”

The weight of his gaze pinned her in place.

“Do they know why you became a Warden?”

A cold wash moved under her skin.

“Do you ?” she bit back.

Solas tilted his head, as though to study her from a new angle. “You helped Varric pursue me for the better part of a year. It would have been foolish not to learn who was hunting me.”

Grace straightened her shoulders, masking her discomfort with a shield of indifference. “My past is of no consequence to the cause. A Warden sheds their past when they take the oath and survive the Joining. It’s what we get in return for our sacrifice.”

“So, your past is irrelevant, but mine condemns me?”

“Your past is all you are,” she snapped. “It consumes you—it is your future. Mine is dead and buried. I’ve made my peace with it. I am atoning for my sins.”

“As am I,” he said, clearly, unwaveringly.

Grace balked. Did he truly believe this was atonement? Atoning to whom? To a race long dead? To an age reduced to ruins and memory?

Surely atonement achieved through destruction could only pave the way for more destruction. For more apologies. For more empty gestures of growth built atop ash and blood. The cycle would continue, endlessly feeding on itself, each act of penance creating fresh sins to be answered for.

And atonement that only begets the need for more atonement—could that ever lead to true redemption?

Could he really not see that? Or was he willfully blind to the futility of his actions, convinced that the weight of his guilt demanded something—anything—even if it meant dooming others to pay the price for his absolution?

“They trust me, and I trust them. That is enough,” Grace said firmly, shaking the dark thoughts from her mind. “We have a strong group. We’ve just recruited a Dragon hunter, as well as an expert in the fade”

Solas smirked again. Even though the chasm between them was vast and uncrossable, for one brief, tempting moment, Grace considered risking the leap—just to punch him square in the face.

“I was a trusted Fade expert once, too.”

Her eyes narrowed, the edges of her temper fraying. “Well,” she retorted, voice dripping with venom, “this one’s far more charming—and isn’t an arrogant piece of shit. So, we’re already one up on the Inquisition.”

She had expected him to look thunderous, to bare his teeth like a hungry wolf. Instead, his expression remained infuriatingly calm—the smug face of trickery itself.

“Enough of this,” she snapped, her patience frayed to the edge. She was done trading barbs with him. “Ghilan’nain and Elgar’nan each control an archdemon,” she said, exhaling sharply as she rubbed her temples. Sparring with Solas was exhausting, and not the reason she had come here. “A blighted archdemon.”

The smirk vanished, replaced by a grim, thoughtful line.

“The life force of those archdemons is bound to the Evanuris as both power and protection,” Solas said gravely. “You will not be able to kill—or even harm them—until their dragon thrall is slain.”

The odds kept stacking, impossibly higher and higher.

“Anything else?” she asked, her tone dulled by weariness. The bite in her words was gone; she was too tired to flash her teeth anymore.

“Even with their dragons dead, they will not be easy to kill. You will need to use my dagger.” His words came measured and steady, as if weighing the burden he was about to place on her. “It will pierce their enchantments and end them once and for all.”

The edges of the Fade began to shimmer and blur. She felt herself slipping, like falling away from one dream into another.

“This opportunity will be fleeting and costly,” Solas continued, his voice turning somber. “You will not have another chance to catch them unawares.”

The blurring of the Fade softened him, his face flickering with something unfamiliar—genuine sadness, perhaps. Or regret. Grace couldn’t be sure. For just a moment, he didn’t seem like the arrogant wolf she had fought so hard to keep at bay.

“If you see the Inquisitor...” His voice faltered, and his expression tightened as if bracing himself. “Please tell her...”

But the words, like him, vanished into the Fade, swallowed whole by the shifting dreamscape.

The next thing Grace knew, she was awake—her body heavy, her limbs slow—as she returned to the room that wasn’t hers. Yet the Fade’s echoes clung to her, a faint hum of its magic lingering in her chest.

And as she lay there, caught in the fragile space between asleep and awake, she heard it again. The Calling.

It was still just a whisper, faint and distant, more a hum than a melody. A sound so small, so hidden, it was only discernible in the stillest of moments - the delicate hours when the night before surrendered itself to the day after, when even the sharpest troubles stretched, yawned, and softened. In that fragile quiet, the sound crept in, threading through her thoughts like a shadow slipping through cracks, settling itself down just at the edge of her awareness.

It was no bard’s tune, no hymn for a harp or lute. It was a whisper with a heartbeat, temptation with a rhythm. Both unknowable and inexplicably familiar. 

It felt like turning to see the outline of someone following you, someone you half-remember from a time you wish you could get back to. I know you, you might say, though their name eludes you. Although disconcerting, there is comfort, it is a relief to see them there. 

The song was like that - a longing you could not place, a desire as old as to feel familiar ground beneath your feet. It didn’t ask for much, just a moment’s indulgence, a step toward the pull. Just one step. And then, why not another? And then one more?

Grace knew when it called to her fully, there would be no hesitation. She would follow. It wasn’t coercion - it was inevitability. Perhaps that was the greatest comfort of all, to know there was no fight to be had. 

Not that it mattered any more. She would never need to follow it now. 

The Gods could not be killed until their arch-demons were slain. And, well, as a warden who was already hearing the Calling, it made sense that she should be the one to strike the blow and give what little life she had left in exchange for the dragon’s. It was logical. Straight-forward. Indisputable. 

The months she thought she had left had dwindled down to mere hours, and she was relieved.  

She wouldn’t have to endure the Calling growing louder, the insidious whisper of the darkspawn growing stronger in her mind. She wouldn’t have to watch her skin pale and her eyes redden until she became something ghoulish, a shadow of herself. She wouldn’t have to walk that mournful march below the earth, into the Deep Roads, to fight an endless tide of darkspawn until her strength gave out and they dragged her down to a painful end.

In Death, Sacrifice.

Maybe, her sacrifice could be more meaningful than she’d dared to hope. Perhaps she wouldn’t fall in some forgotten corner of the world. Perhaps she could take her sword and plunge it into the skull of an Archdemon, strip the twisted divinity from a vengeful god that threatened the world she had sworn to protect, and trade her life for a glimmer of hope.

She hadn’t told anyone about what she had been hearing, and now she wouldn’t need to. At least that was one weight off her mind. 

It had been a few weeks since the full group had last gathered at the lighthouse. They were still new to one another, strangers navigating unfamiliar bonds. She had been so consumed by tasks and planning that the haunting melody of the Calling had been all but drowned out, leaving her with little time to dwell on it. 

The stillness around her was broken by the unmistakable cadence of voices drifting up from the atrium. Grace stirred, the distant melody of the Calling pushed aside by the more immediate, bracing familiarity of Taash’s voice—blunt as a mace and often hitting just as hard.

“…if you had just left it alone.”

“Taash,” came Emmrich’s measured tone, a practiced counterpoint to her impatience. “There is no need for dramatics.”

Grace descended the stairwell slowly, her fingers brushing the railing, her expression carefully neutral. As she entered the atrium, she found Davrin seated at the table, arms crossed against his broad chest. Emmrich leaned against the back of a chair, his demeanor composed, while Taash paced like a caged animal, her movements sharp with frustration.

The trio had just returned from the Hossberg wetlands, where the spread of the Blight had been causing serious problems. Grace had stayed behind to talk to Solas. Judging by the tension in the room, it seemed neither mission had gone well.

“It’s bad,” Davrin said, breaking the strained silence.

Grace’s gaze snapped to him. “How bad?”

“The Blight is fast-moving. And worse, it’s… changing.” His discomfort was palpable, his words cautious as he glanced at the others in the room.

“Did you find Evka and Antoine?” she pressed, catching the subtle flicker of unease in Davrin’s expression.

“Yes, Antoine can sense something…” Davrin admitted reluctantly, his voice low.

“They’re gathering evidence for the First Warden,” Emmrich interjected smoothly, his tone less guarded. “I managed to gather some samples myself, I'm quite skilled at alchemy, perhaps with some further study of my own I may be able to…”

“The whole thing fucking sucked.” Taash said, arms folded. “Blight cysts and boils everywhere. Darkspawn running rampant. Demons down wells. It sucked.”

Grace’s lips quirked upward “I can always count on you for a thorough report, Taash.”

“They spoke highly of you,” Emmrich said, his voice lighter, as if deliberately steering the mood to calmer waters. “Lovely couple. They had a lot of interesting theories about the blight’s  adaptability. They believe it’s developing patterns of behavior. Targeting places of greater strategic importance. As though something—or someone—is influencing it. Guiding it.”

Grace felt a cold weight settle in her chest. The implications of such a development were too terrible to ignore.

“Does the First Warden know?”

“Not yet,” Davrin admitted. “Antoine and Evka are to make the report in person. The wardens are being called back to Weisshaupt. Something big is coming.”

Grace glanced between them, her mind already racing through strategies. The world was shifting again, tilting closer to chaos, and she felt the all-too-familiar pressure of decisions that carried the weight of countless lives.

She wanted to ask more—press them for every scrap of information they had—but the ache of the Calling tugged at the edges of her mind, a reminder that her time was running out faster than she cared to admit. For now, she would focus on the present, on what needed to be done. She couldn’t think about dying now. 

"Emmrich, I need to borrow a book from your study." She didn’t, she just needed to be warmed by the fire and his company. 

"Of course," he replied.

They left Davrin and Taash to argue over blight and monsters and dragons, and she followed him into the room that had quickly become her favorite in the lighthouse.

A beautiful spiral staircase wound upward, coiling like a ribbon of dark wood to a small balcony near the top of the tower. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, trinkets, and instruments whose purposes Grace could only guess at. The fireplace was alive with a crackling fire, sending out warmth that settled into her tired bones. 

The study had surprised her. She hadn’t expected it to feel so welcoming. Every room in the lighthouse seemed to mirror the tastes and desires of its inhabitants, but this room? She had expected something austere, reflecting Emmrich’s darker sensibilities. Stone walls, perhaps, cold and smooth as marble. Flickering green lanterns that spilled veillight across a shadowed floor—something that spoke of his familiarity with death and decay. It still held a gothic charm, urns with imposing skull lids, an examination table stained with something she would rather not think about.

But the comfort, and vibrancy of his study was a pleasant surprise. The warmth of it drew her in, beckoning her to linger. She noticed how it had appeared next to her own room, as if placed there deliberately. The air was rich with scents that she couldn’t resist: spiced wine, the faint acrid sweetness of fireplace smoke, and the unmistakable crackle of magic.

The lighthouse had not offered Grace a room of her own. Instead, there were subtle, almost intimate hints of magic. She would come back to find bunches of delicate purple flowers arranged in vases. Books, ones she hadn’t noticed before, would show up, their pages folded at key passages. Trinkets, small and thoughtful - stones with strange markings, a carved pendant, even an old, weathered map with sections highlighted - would find their way onto the dresser. 

For the others, entire rooms had appeared and formed and flourished to their needs and personalities. Grace was forced to stay in Solas’s old room, laying on the sofa with the light from the aquarium dancing across the walls. At least she had the scent of her favourite flowers.

But there was always Emmrich’s room, and no magic could create anywhere more inviting. 

“You were after a particular book?” Emmrich asked, with a glint in his eye. 

This was not an unusual step in their intricate dance. Often, she would knock on his door with some pretext to speak with him—asking about his history, seeking his advice, or simply to borrow a book and read by the fire. Each encounter added to the growing collection of stolen moments that she carefully hoarded, even as she reminded herself of the rule she had set.

She would not develop feelings for him. 

That was the line she had drawn. She would not allow herself to dream of nights wrapped in his arms, of his rich, knowing voice whispering sweetness in the whorl of her ear. No. It was impossible. Disastrous.

But… a little flirting would be safe, surely? Why shouldn’t she indulge herself, just a little? If her time was running short, surely she could afford to spend some of it savouring the velvet comfort of honeyed words exchanged with Emmrich. He was a delight—a rare and intoxicating thing she wished to enjoy, if only for a fleeting moment. Just a taste. Just flirting. That would be fine.

She had never been in love, and didn’t plan on falling into that trap at this stage in her shortened life.

Since she was twenty, she had been a sword and shield against the dark, and others had always treated her as such. Sharp. Solid. Edges folded over and over again until she became a being of tempered steel.

Now, at thirty-five, as the end barreled toward her—merciless, inexorable—she found she no longer wanted to be the shield holding back her own oblivion. There was no beating back the inevitable. For a while, she longed to be something softer, stitched from silk and sighs. A sip of rich wine on a parched tongue. A balm, not a blade.

She wanted to be savoured like the last days of summer, all slow heat and light that lingers. She wanted to be Grace, and not Rook. But… such moments were no longer hers to hope for. 

She had known romance, of course. There had been fleeting entanglements, most often with other wardens, but they had always carried an undercurrent of tragedy. Every touch, every stolen hour, felt like a prelude to the inevitable. Each affair began with flowers and shared wine, only to be set aside and left to gather dust. Beautiful. Impermanent.

That was fine. She had accepted it. Grace was prepared to make peace with a short, adventurous life that had never been centered in someone else’s heart. If love wasn’t hers to hold, she would settle for the steady thrum of her own, echoing in her chest. A rhythm that would persist, unyielding, for as long as it could.

For as long as she could.

Emmrich was speaking to her again, his voice a warm current that swept her away, carrying her thoughts to treacherous waters. She found herself wondering how he kissed. Would it be like a gentleman—deliberate and refined? Or like a cad, all heat and urgency, stealing her breath like a desperate thief? Or perhaps like the scholar she knew him to be, curious and thorough, exploring her with the precision of one seeking to master every sigh, every shiver?

“Grace?”

Her name, spoken in that familiar timbre, pulled her abruptly from her reverie. She blinked, realizing with a flush of embarrassment that she had missed whatever he’d just said. His head tilted slightly, and a faint smirk curved his lips, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Maker, that smirk was going to be her undoing. 

“Sorry,” she said, her voice a little too quick, a little too light. “I got distracted.”

“Clearly,” he replied, his smirk deepening. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

“Um…” 

He just laughed at her as she felt herself turn even pinker. 

“Your blush turns you such a beautiful shade.” He said nonchalantly, “Where did you drift off to?”

“Oh, sorry. A lot on my mind. Blight. Gods. The inevitable confrontation that we’re unlikely to survive. That sort of thing.”

“Right, of course. What a silly question.” He smiled and she tried her best not to melt. 

“I was wondering.” It was his turn to look a little flushed, which was odd for him. “if you wouldn’t mind accompanying me to the Necropolis? I have a task to perform, and would like some company.”

There was a second of fear, where she looked at the line she had drawn and it shimmered and bent. 

Flirting would be fine. A little time together would be fine. Harmless. Besides, she didn’t have many chances left to be alone in his company. 

She would take a little warmth where she could.

⎯⎯⎯⎯ ♜ ⎯⎯⎯⎯

Emmrich met her at the entrance to the memorial gardens, his expression warm, his hand extending toward hers in a gesture both formal and intimate. Grace placed her hand in his, and he led her down the wide, well-maintained steps. They were designed thoughtfully, ensuring even the most elderly of mourners could descend them safely, but the gallantry of the gesture touched her anyway. 

“Part of my duties here includes tending to these rites of remembrance,” he explained as they began their stroll through the gardens. “It’s an important part of my role. Even though I’m technically away on leave, there are some things I still feel compelled to attend to. When I can.”

They moved slowly, the tranquility of the gardens wrapping around them like a gentle embrace. The air was cool but not biting, and the faint rustle of leaves intermingled with the soft crackle of the candles they lit as they went. Emmrich would pause now and then, murmuring words that were too quiet for Grace to hear. As they passed certain corners, wisps of light trailed close beside them—spirits, bright and curious, drawn to Emmrich’s presence. He acknowledged them with respect, his interactions natural and unforced, as though speaking to them was as simple as breathing. Grace watched, fascinated.

“This is where I feel it most,” Emmrich said softly, “The presence of the Veil. The closeness of the spirits. They aren’t angry or vengeful here—just… watchful. Grateful.”

“You must live a busy life,” she said quietly.

He gave a faint, almost wry smile. “Teaching, researching, performing rites, guarding the necropolis… It does have a way of filling the hours.” He paused, his steps slowing. “But this place—this work—has always been more than just a duty for me.”

She could sense there was more to say, and so she waited, letting the silence stretch between them until he was ready.

“I came to the Necropolis after I was orphaned” he began, his voice steady but laden with a quiet grief that felt well-worn, like a cloak he had carried for many years. “A collapsed building. Swift deaths. After the funeral, the watchers took me in.” 

The admission hit Grace like a quiet, unspoken blow. She tried to imagine it—a little boy suddenly without parents, ripped from his home and taken to live in a place where death was ever-present. Did it help, she wondered, being surrounded by others who mourned? Did their shared grief make his own any easier to bear? Or had it only made him feel more lost, more alone?

“How did you cope?” she asked softly, her words tender with genuine curiosity.

“I didn’t. When I first came here, I was terrified.”

“And you still joined the Watchers?” Her tone carried a note of admiration she didn’t bother to hide. “That’s… remarkable.”

“They’re what saved me,” he said simply. “It was terrifying in a way I couldn’t name then. To feel so small in the face of something so vast, so unchangeable.”

Grace felt her fingers twitch, an instinctive desire to reach for him, to offer some kind of comfort. But she held back, knowing instinctively that he needed to let this out, uninterrupted.

“The watchers showed me a different way to look at it,” he said, his tone softening with something akin to gratitude. “Death wasn’t just loss to them. It was… continuity. A thread that connected everything and everyone. They taught me to honour it, learn from it. And so, I did. Even though it still scared me.”

Grace nodded, his words drawing her in like a quiet tide. There was a stillness to the way he spoke of death.  She felt the urge to open up, to share her own fears, the ones she usually buried beneath duty. But this wasn’t about her. Not now. She wanted to hear more of Emmrich, to know him better while she still had the chance.

“So, you’ve stayed here since then?” she asked softly. Her next words came with more hesitation. “And you… never… married?”

It wasn’t the first time she’d wondered. She’d spent countless quiet moments admiring the intricate jewelry he wore—grave gold, he called it. Bangles and rings, their worn surfaces catching the firelight as he turned pages in a book or gestured passionately in conversation. The way they adorned his elegant hands seemed so fitting, so beautiful, that she couldn’t help but wonder if one of the rings might be something more—a wedding ring, perhaps.

For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw his gaze flick to his hands, as if he, too, knew what she had been looking for all along. Then he smiled faintly and shook his head.

“Ah, no. I’m afraid not. I had a picture for a little while, as people tend to do. An imagining” He waved one of his hands as though it were a wisp to be shooed away. “Marriage and children. Little footsteps in a little house filled with laughter and clutter.”

His smile was a small thing that looked more sad than happy. 

“What happened to that picture?”

He paused, his fingers tracing the air with practiced ease. A vine had uncoiled from its support, its tendrils twisting like a gentle serpent. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he guided it back to its place, the magic flowing through him like a quiet breath. The vine settled, curling gracefully, and in the blink of an eye, delicate white flowers began to bloom, soft and luminous.

“It gathered dust I suppose, as things left unattended always do.”

They walked for a little while, and Grace had to fight the urge to let her hand brush against his. Every now and then he would stop to read the message on a headstone he had read a hundred times before, or bow his head before one of the graves. 

He was even more beautiful here, stately and ethereal. Kind to those who could never offer it back. It moved her in the little ways that turn moments of sadness into minutes and hours and days of hope. She understood now, why people like him were needed in a place like this. The gentle, and the warm - beings of persistent light in a place where it is all too easy to become lost in the dark. 

“It isn’t too late, you know?” She offered

“Oh, well I am content with my teaching and research, and an occasional dash of adventure to keep me spry.” He glanced at her with a sparkle in his eyes. 

For the briefest of moments, she allowed herself to indulge in her own fleeting imagining - a glimpse of a future she knew would never be hers. Not with Emmrich exactly, but just with somebody, somehow. 

Her mind, though stubborn and fortified, knew better. She had steeled herself against such fantasies, reminded herself that a life of that nature was not for her. And yet, despite all the logic in the world, it did nothing to quell the ache in her chest. The heart, it seemed, had a way of feeling things before the mind could catch up. Those little sorrows - small, tender things - drifted there first, nestling into the chambers where logic had no sway, and in their quiet persistence, they made themselves felt. They throbbed and ached. Burning fiercely within her, all the more intense for being ignored, for being left alone to smolder in the dark.

As quickly as the image appeared, she folded it back up and put it away. It hurt too much to keep looking at it. 

She was angry at him a little, for acting like he was nearing the end when there was so much further for him to go. He had the privilege of gathering dust, where she would only become it. 

There were lines in his face that would never deepen on her own, etched there by years of frowns, of laughter, of experiences and moments so uncountable they had made themselves a permanent home in the kind, handsome features of his face. Like the creases of a well-loved storybook. A life well-lived. A life that was not yet finished.

“What does the future look like for you?” Emmrich asked gently, his tone inviting but not insistent.

What to say to that? That there was no future? That this was it? That her flame would snuff out in a matter of hours when she killed the archdemon?

“Oh, the usual things! Fighting darkspawn, killing dragons, one-upping the God of trickery that lives in my subconscious… you know, what every little girl dreams of.”

Her attempt at humor didn’t land the way she’d hoped. He didn’t laugh or even crack a smile. Instead, his expression softened into something that looked suspiciously like pity, and it made her angry in a sharp, immediate way. She didn’t need pity - it was useless. It took up too much space and offered nothing in return.

Grace hesitated. She wasn’t ready to tell him everything. But she owed him something, a piece of herself in return for the piece he had shared.

“When I was little, I wanted to be a blacksmith,”

“I think you’d make a fine blacksmith,” Emmrich replied, his tone so reflexively polite that it tugged a laugh from her despite herself.

“I used to play a game with my sister,” she said. “I’d be the blacksmith, and she’d be the horse. I’d coax her over with treats I’d stolen from the kitchen, stroke her hair, and measure her feet for horseshoes.” She chuckled, louder this time, her laughter rich with the sweetness of nostalgia. “She’d stomp around the garden, pretending to throw the shoes, and I’d chase after her, yelling about how she was ruining my finest work.”

Emmrich’s smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Do you see her often?” he asked, careful but curious.

Grace faltered. The warmth of the memory faded, and the smile slipped, falling away to somewhere she couldn’t quite reach.

“No,” she said quietly, “Not at all. We write to each other occasionally. But when I became a Warden… I gave up my family. It was part of the agreement.”

“Wardens don’t have to give up their families, do they? They can keep their names and connections, as far as I’ve ever understood. The oath comes first, but I thought…”

“My circumstances were a little different,” she interrupted gently, not meeting his gaze. “There is no family for me. Not the one I was born into, and not one for me to make on my own.”

“You never wanted to…?” he began, his voice trailing off, careful.

“Oh, I never really thought about it.” Grace shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I was engaged for a little while, just before I became a Warden.”

She sensed his surprise, though he didn’t voice it.

“It didn’t work out, obviously,” she added, her tone light and detached. “It was a formal, arranged thing that never particularly interested me. And then, when I became a Warden… well, I became a Warden. Relationships were sweet and fleeting, usually with other Wardens. And children…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, a flicker of something unspoken passing through her expression. “Children were not an option.”

“No?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, she hesitated. There were veils and shrouds draped over the truth of the Grey Wardens, hiding their sacrifices. Maybe to keep people from being dissuaded from joining, or maybe to maintain the illusion of the Wardens as unshakable heroes. But Grace had learned early on that the taint was more than just a curse that shortened her lifespan. It was a quiet thief, stealing things she hadn’t even known were precious.

“Wardens can’t… biologically have children,” she said finally, her voice steady but soft.

“Ah. I’m so sorry,” Emmrich said simply. 

“What for?” she replied, forcing a small smile. “I never wanted children, really. But still, something that belonged to me was taken.” She shrugged. “It’s how it is. It’s what I chose. I’m a Warden.”

“You are many things,” he said, his voice filled with such sweet sincerity that it made the ache in her chest bloom anew. “And you should have had the choice to be many more.”

The words hit her harder than she wanted to admit, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she looked away, blinking against the emotions welling in her chest, and let his words settle over her like a quiet, lingering comfort.

“You told me you would tell me the story of why you became a warden, over a drink if I remember correctly.” He said

How she wished she could. What a joy it would be, to dust off her secrets and offer them out to someone who would treasure them. She couldn’t. Not now. It was too late. 

“One day soon.” She said sadly, “When there are fewer Gods and dragons to worry about.”

They had stopped walking now, pausing beneath a great and ancient tree that dominated this part of the memorial garden. Its trunk was a labyrinth of twists and knots, as though it had once been many trees. Over time, they seemed to have reached toward one another, their branches entwining like clasped fingers. Together, they had grown upward, merging into one inseparable whole. The blooms that now drifted softly to the graveyard floor were all the same—identical petals falling from what had become one living thing.

Grace reached out and let a bloom land in her open palm. It was delicate and pale, trembling slightly in the breeze before settling. She studied it for a moment before releasing it again, watching as it spiraled down to join the others in a soft, fragrant carpet.

“You possess a bravery I could only ever dream of.” he said, unable to take his eyes off her. 

“Oh? You seem pretty brave to me.” The urge to slip her hand into his, for even just a moment, was becoming more and more fervid.

“I’m afraid not. I possess a great terror of dying. It goes beyond dread. It can’t be reasoned with, or soothed over, it comes without warning. In the dead of night, in sunlit streets… A raw, strangling fear that strikes somewhere deep past the heart.” 

She did reach for him then, to place a gentle hand upon the crook of his arm. She wished to clasp his hand between hers, or even to touch his face and lift his chin to look at her, but she resisted.

“That must be an issue, for a necromancer”

The look he gave her then, with her hand upon him, made her doomed heart stumble.

“There are struggles, but a watcher must always find peace amongst the graves.” His eyes flickered briefly to her lips, before he seemed to think better of herself. “Come now, I have been maudlin enough.”

To do what he did, to live amongst the dead - and to honour and respect and be so devoted to them despite his phobia of one day joining them, to her seemed like the bravest thing she had ever heard. 

Grace’s hand lingered on his arm a moment longer before she let it fall away, though the warmth of the contact lingered between them. The great tree above them whispered in the breeze, its petals drifting down like snow, and for a moment, the world felt quiet and still, as if holding its breath.

The ache returned, sharper this time. It wasn’t the thought of her death that made her falter; it was the wish—raw, yearning, and impossible—that tore at her insides. She wished she could stay. Stay here with Emmrich. Walk the gardens a little longer. Sit beneath the ancient, entwining trees with him and feel his warmth beside her. Put her hand in his, even for just a little while.

“I think…” her voice came softly, tentative, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile moment between them, “I think I would like to be laid to rest in a place like this.”

She flushed as she spoke, the heat rising to her cheeks. The words felt like a request for something she had no right to, like asking for permission to intrude on something sacred that wasn’t hers. She wasn’t Nevarran. This wasn’t her people’s way. Wardens went to the Deep Roads, their bodies left to rot where they fell. In the Free Marches, the dead were cremated.

But she liked it here. The peace, the reverence, the idea that someone—someone like Emmrich—might one day come to light a candle or place a flower, to be kind to her even when she was no longer living. 

Emmrich turned to her, his expression open but solemn. His lips parted as if to speak, but for a moment he seemed to hesitate, searching for the right words.

“Well,” he said at last, his voice firm but warm, “you don’t have to worry about that for a long time. I’m certain of it.”

It was both hopeful and unbearably naive, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I’ve heard of Wardens living decades after the Joining,” he continued, his tone insistent, as though sheer conviction could make it true. “And none of them could have been as…”

The ache in her chest sharpened further, pricking at the corners of her eyes. She felt the sting of tears but refused to let them fall. She wouldn’t look at him, couldn’t risk meeting his gaze, afraid that the sight of his kindness would undo her entirely.

“…as vivid as you are,” he finished softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

It was enough to crack her armour, even if just a little.

He had taken a step towards her, and she couldn’t help it, she looked up at him and she knew her eyes were misty and her cheeks were flushed and she wore her vulnerability bright and clear in front of him. She didn’t care at that moment, she just wished to look at him in the dim light of the garden, under the tree where the blossoms fell. 

The line she had drawn between them wavered, blurred, and she longed to seize it—to bend it, break it. She wanted to be soft, just for a moment. To be gentle and unguarded, a woman of silk and fresh cotton instead of steel and leather.

“Grace.” He was so close now, she realised her back was bowing, pushing her towards him like a willow tree. 

He took her hand in his, and without taking his eyes from hers, brought her knuckles up to his lips and placed a kiss upon them. Knuckles that had only ever been bloodied and bruised from fights, were now forever changed because Emmrich Volakrin had placed his lips upon them.

“I would very much like to spend more time with you. Alone with you. Times are fraught, and danger is imminent, I understand that.. But with you.. I…”

He hesitated, the words caught somewhere between his heart and his lips.

Her own heart screamed at her to give in. To let him finish.

But she couldn’t.

She broke the spell. Taking a step back, she withdrew her hand from his, the warmth of his touch vanishing like smoke from an extinguished fire. She turned herself back from Grace into Rook. From the woman standing under the blossom tree to the Warden in indelible armour. 

“This has been lovely, Emmrich. I’m grateful for your company, and for showing me the gardens” She dared not look at him. She kept her voice clear, it didn’t sound like hers any more. 

“But.. I don’t think that is a good idea. I think..” The ache was now a fracture. “I think we should focus on what needs to be done, and leave this here.”

She wished him farewell, without looking at him, and left him amongst the graves. 

A bell rang out from where she had left him, mournful and slow. And she tried with all her strength, to feel glad that she had done the right thing. That a tough choice had been made to safeguard both their hearts. 

At least his. Gratefully, his. And even though hers felt punctured and swollen and bruised beyond repair, she knew it would not hurt for much longer.

[possessiveandobsessive]

A Cat for Her Crow

Pairing: Lucanis x fem!Rook

Synopsis: Lucanis Dellamorte has a soft spot for two things: cats and a certain red-headed elven mage that goes by Rook

Part 3: Chasing Cats in the City of Crows

When Rook walked into the Cantori Diamond, the full weight of what she was here to do hit her like a ton of bricks. She paused in the entryway. Was she really going to walk up to Teia and ask her what would make Lucanis feel better? What she could do to make him smile? The thought made her feel mildly ill and she nearly turned around, but Rook was doing this for Lucanis. For him, she could face embarrassment. She'd faced worse for him. 

Forcing her legs to move before she could chicken out, Rook suddenly found herself standing in front of Teia, clearing her throat to get the other woman's attention. Teia looked up at her, her expression one of surprise.

"Rook! What a surprise! What are you doing here? Lucanis should be back to your base by now, is he okay?" Teia stood as she spoke and kissed Rook on both cheeks in Antivan fashion. Rook smiled at Teia. She loved her fire and strong spirit, and she hoped that after all of this craziness with the gods and blight was behind them, Rook could get to know her better. 

"I'm not looking for Lucanis, I actually came because I wanted to ask you something." Rook told Teia, trying desperately not to sound shy or nervous.

Teia quirked an eyebrow in surprised interest. "Ask away. You are an honorary Crow in my book. I'll help however I can."

Rook felt warm hearing Teia say she was an honorary Crow. She knew that the things she had done for them were no small feats, but she never expected most of them to welcome her as family after it all. Regardless of how they felt about her, she had readily answered Treviso's call each time they needed aid before, and she would again and again without hesitation. Gaining a flock in return was just a pleasing side benefit. 

Steeling her nerves and cementing her resolve, Rook met Teia's eyes and asked, "How do I help Lucanis? I want to do something for him. He's exhausted and not sleeping. And I can tell he's sad. I just... I want to help him but I don't know how. He deserves more. I figured if anyone would know, it would be you."

Teia stared at Rook in mute shock for a moment. At her gaze, Rook felt herself blush and start to stutter an excuse of some kind, but Teia just tipped her head back and laughed. Rook's mouth fell open as she watched Teia full body laugh for what felt like an eternity but was in reality probably only a few seconds. Never in her life had she felt so embarrassed. Her cheeks were on fire and she started trying to escape the situation when Teia collected herself and grabbed Rook's hand to stop her.

"Rook, I'm sorry. I just couldn't help it. You looked so terrified over your question, and then it was about doing something nice for Lucanis! You're actively hunting and planning to kill gods, with the look on your face, I thought the question was going to have to do with some insane new revelation about how screwed we are." Teia laughed again briefly before sobering and meeting Rook's wide eyes. 

"Lucanis is a difficult person to know. He was trained as a Crow from the time he could walk, and he's done nothing but work his whole life. He doesn't let people get close and he doesn't share the most important parts of himself because of his lifestyle. Lucanis has never let anyone in. Illario, Viago and I are the closest things to friends he has, and even we know very little about how that man's mind works. There's no one who could give you insight into that man... except me." Teia flashed a wicked smile at her and leaned forward to whisper something into Rook's ear. Rook's expression morphed from confused, to surprised, to a soft smile and crinkles around her eyes.

"Thank you Teia. I owe you for this." Rook told Teia smiling. 

"Just let me plan the wedding when it's time and you can consider us even!" Teia grinned at Rook, who was now spluttering again. "Go! Go and make the big bad Demon of Vyrantium smile. Pouting and moping is unbecoming for a Crow."

* * *

Catching a cat was so much harder than Rook anticipated. After Teia told Rook about Lucanis's love for cats and how petting and being around them relaxed him, she had decided she was getting the brooding man a cat. 

The strays of Treviso were not easily tricked though, and they didn't know or trust her. Most of them allowed her to pet them, but when she went to try and hold any of them, they shot out of her arms faster than she could react. Rook was getting impatient and frustrated. How long had she been out here doing this? The sun had long since set, and she'd been chasing stray cats in the dark for hours. Rook collapsed onto a box in a random alley to rest. Wiping sweat from her brow, Rook panted lightly as she tried to get her heart rate back to an acceptable level. She was exhausted and feeling defeated. How was she supposed to save the world if she couldn't even catch a cat to make the man she- 

Rook slammed on her mental breaks. It wasn't the right time or place to dissect THAT thought and the accompanying emotions. 

As she sat still trying to restart her brain, Rook heard a soft "mew" from behind her. Slowly, she turned her head over her shoulder and was shocked to see that behind the box she was sitting on, was a black cat and 6 black kittens. 

Her eyes widened as she met the mother cat's narrowed, golden-yellow eyes. She racked her brain for what to do in order to show that she was not a threat, and finally decided to very slowly put her hand out a short distance towards the cats. She didn't infringe of their space and didn't meet the mother's eyes again, just let her hand hang in the open space between them.

Her grandmother's voice echoed quietly in her mind, "Some creatures take longer to trust, and if you want to earn it, you have to go at their pace Nya. Meet them halfway. You cannot tame a predator with force, you have to show them that you're worth their loyalty." It was funny how much her grandmother's advice for approaching the mountain lion that lived near their clan applied to these stray city cats. And to Lucanis himself she added as an afterthought.

After what felt like an eternity, she felt a soft nose on her fingers. Rook sucked in a breath and tried to stay completely still, not wanting to ruin the progress. Finally Rook felt the mother's head run on her hand and wrist, and heard a soft purr leave her. Grinning in triumph Rook pet the beautiful black cat. Her smile fell when she realized however that this did not solve her cat problem. No way she was gonna steal a kitten from this mama, and she couldn't take SEVEN CATS (could she????). No, Neve and Davrin would never allow that...

Suddenly, the mother cat jumped back down to where her small nest of kittens lay and stuck her head between the box and the wall. When she pulled her head out, she held a tiny black kitten by it's scruff. This one was smaller than the rest, and it's hair stood up in pointed tufts instead of laying smooth and straight like the others' coats. It's eyes were different too. They were violet in color, unlike the rest of the litter and the mother's golden-yellow eyes. 

Rook stared in astonishment as the kitten squirmed and fought against what she assumed to be it's mother, but was not sure anymore. It was pissed off, that was for certain. The mother struggled to hold onto its scruff as she made her way back to Rook. The cat stared deeply into Rook's eyes before depositing the world's angriest ball of fluff onto her lap. She followed this with a single, meaningful meow and jumped back down to join her other spawn. 

Rook stared down and met the gaze of the angry kitten. Violet eyes were narrowed and the hair on its back stood up extra in warning. "I..... guess this works?" Rook spoke our loud, bewildered at this turn in events. She had heard that every litter had a runt, and that sometimes the runts had difficulty surviving and thriving like the others in the wild.... Rook decided to give up and stopped trying to puzzle the odd situation out. She'd quit while she was ahead, as she knew literally nothing about cats. 

Rook briefly wondered if she was holding a baby panther instead of a kitten. It certainly seemed much fiercer than the other sleeping beans in the nest. Whatever, cat is acquired. She thought before shrugging and going to put the baby, Lucanis's new baby, into her small bag she carried. Suddenly, and faster than Rook could comprehend, her hand was slashed open on two places by the tiny demon kitten. She gasped in pain and tried to get the kitten to just lay down in the bag. It was lined with a blanket and prepared for a feline occupant.

Rook ended up with 6 more scratches on her right hand and wrist as well as her gods damned NECK, before she was able to get the menace into the bag and close it (leaving an opening for air, she wasn't an idiot). Rubbing her hand down her face in exhaustion, and wincing slightly as the scratches on her hand and neck throbbed painfully, she sighed and got up. Time to go give Lucanis his present. Though, she was starting to question whether this was a gift, or a punishment.

Part 4 Coming 11/18/24!

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

[blackjackkent]

Hunting for further magical disturbances in the temple area, we find this - an echo of a smuggler that was carrying the relic that set off this whole mess:

"...relic... courtyard... back way..."

Neve gets an idea from this about a pathway from here that is a back way into the market, so we follow her off to investigate - but not before taking a bunch of loot from the foot of this statue, which makes me wonder if we're stealing Andrastean offerings.

Oh well. Helena will put them to good use. XD

On the way, more banter:

Neve: "You know, I took this job. It's on me, and the Venatori cult's no joke. If anyone wants out..." Helena: "Stopping Venatori is both our jobs." Bellara: "And I'm good with relics gone wrong." Neve: "Well... that was your warning!"

Neve, you do remember that in our day job we're gearing up to fight gods, right? XD

It's a bit annoying that even though this is the Shadow Dragon mission, half of Neve's dialogue seems to be geared to the idea that Rook isn't one. It ends up coming across that she for some reason thinks Helena wouldn't want to help with this or that it's outside her usual experience, which is... odd.

Horses!

Found our next remnant!

It took a little while to figure out what I was supposed to do here, because the game briefly showed this item as being interactable from here, but then stopped and looked like it glitched out. In fact we have to go around and climb up from the other side.

On the way, Neve talks with various contacts. It's clear that she knows the people of this area - as information sources, but also as people. She's concerned for their wellbeing, and stops to ask the beggar that Helena gives coin to if she has somewhere safe to go given that there might be demons prowling around soon.

Helena really likes Neve. They have very different personalities but very much the same values.

Made it!

"...handoff... third bell... late..."

"Bells ring when ships go in and out," Neve says, with the satisfied air of someone solving a puzzle. "Could be using them for timing - near the docks. I think our smuggler's on a deadline. The relic's pull agrees. Let's visit the docks."

[upwards-descent]

Favor

Rookery knew something was wrong. The way Neve's eyes pinched around the corners, the brief press of a hand against her lower stomach. When she tried to hide another wince, he couldn't help but step in.

"Here," He attempted to put something in her hand under the guise of private council. "In case you need it."

"What is-- Huh. Alright. Not at all what I was expecting."

The mage looked down at her palm. There was a tight roll of fabric, about as long as her middle finger, as well as a few little tablets she recognized as compressed herbal pain killers. Her brow knit slightly before she fixed her fellow companion with a wry smirk.

"... Are you hitting on me?" Neve couldn't help but ask.

"Huh?" Rook looked genuinely perplexed. "No? I'm gay, Neve."

There was another pause. Though she didn't register abject shock in some dramatic way, there was a twitch in her brow and a sparkle in her eyes. Blinking once, twice, it was clear her detective mind was in overdrive.

"... So then. You have these on your person, and looked at me and deduced...?"

"C'mon, Neve, I'm not a child," For once, that eternal smile flickered and Rook flashed a frown. "I know what a period is. You're standing like you're in pain but it's clearly centered around your gut. We haven't eaten anything new or suspicious so it can't be a stomach bug," He shrugged one shoulder. "And you're a woman, unless there's something I'm missing."

"Perhaps there's something I'm missing," The mage countered. At least she looked more intrigued than baffled now. "You... Are a man."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"... Oh," Closing her fist, she gave him a polite nod. "Well, thank you, Rook. If you ever have awful cramps yourself, I'll--"

"Oh, not anymore," His violet eyes twinkled and he winked. "I've got different meds for that. Haven't had any in years at this point."

"So then why do you still carry these?"

Rookery's attention was briefly pulled over to the rest of the Veil Jumper camp. His eyes traced over Harding, Bellara, some of the other women present. Maybe a few years ago, he'd have felt a twinge of anxiety, having this conversation or even pondering it at all. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh and grinned.

"Because I've been there, and I know how much it sucks," He patted one of the pouches strapped to his belt. "It's nice to be nice, y'know?" Winking, he thumbed his nose. "Just because I'm a Lord of Fortune doesn't mean I'm a selfish bastard. Sharing is caring and so on."

"You're parroting platitudes meant to teach small children kindness in regards to your treasure hunting and personal medkit?" When Neve chuckled, there was the tiniest hint of a snort. "You're an enigma, Rookery. I can't fully figure you out."

"Keep folks guessing, you'll always be a step ahead," Dragging his gaze away from her, he perked up, waving back as Harding waved them over. "C'mon, looks like we're needed."

Neve watched him jog off, hesitating for a moment. She uncurled her fist, staring at the pills and fabric. Varric hadn't lied; the kid was a firecracker and a puzzle all at once.

[loquaciousquark]

Youtube Playlist | Tumblr Archive

Timestamps and covered events under the cut!

0:06 - Introduction 1:32 - Arriving at Shathann's home with Taash 31:39 - Getting into the volcano 48:30 - Reaching the Dragon King, seeing Shathann 1:01:10 - Defeating the dragon, confronting the Dragon King 1:07:32 - A choice for Taash 1:15:32 - Talking with Harding & Lucanis, 10-5-9 1:18:26 - Rook, genius of the group 1:19:12 - Exploring the new unlocked area of the Rivain coast 2:16:45 - Solving the Grey Warden puzzle 2:30:30 - Completing the Adventure Spirit's hunt 2:33:30 - Back to the Lighthouse, talking with Taash and other companions, 10-6-9 2:40:30 - Remembering the fallen with Neve 2:46:29 - Returning to Isana Negat with Harding 2:49:54 - Solas is the father of dwarves (reprise 2:57:00) 2:58:00 - Back to the Lighthouse, still talking about dwarves 3:01:39 - Taash giving Harding a gift, STILL talking about dwarves, talking to Neve about Aelia 3:09:50 - Meeting Cyrian with Bellara 3:17:58 - For the Love of Treviso (and me completely missing that the governor is NB for the entire quest) 3:23:32 - Meeting the Butcher 3:32:09 - The governor reveals their betrayal 3:41:54 - Taash learns more about the tablet 4:00:22 - Returning to the Lighthouse, talking with Bellara about Cyrian, living off crumbs from Lucanis 4:11:23 - Beginning A Murder of Crows with Lucanis 4:21:05 - Kata gets lost in Lucanis's house 4:27:18 - Arriving at Villa Dellamorte 4:28:26 - Rook and I are both flustered by Lucanis's wealth 4:41:17 - Is this Lucanis's room? (revisit: 4:43:40) 4:41:50 - "Bashing" down the door, meeting Caterina, lamenting another rogue-rogue romance 4:44:27 - Rook quails at the gardens, but is heartened by the potential skeletons in the closet 4:48:17 - Arriving at the opera 4:52:30 - Completing the fight, my personal despair at 4:53:10 4:58:10 - Back to the Lighthouse for more intense disappointment and frustration 5:04:55 - Talking with Bellara in preface to the Cyrian quest, looping through companions, 10-7-9, Taash & Davrin working out 5:11:39 - Starting Blackthorne Manor with Emmrich 5:23:09 - The boy speaks 5:41:05 - Reaching the lantern and Hezenkoss 5:48:32 - Defeating Hezenkoss, the sacrifice 5:51:15 - The lich lord arrives, the decision 6:00:00 - Back to the Lighthouse, talking with Emmrich & Lucanis, called shot at 6:03:50 6:06:29 - Coffee (and nothing more) with Lucanis and Spite :| 6:11:30 - Beginning the quest to kill Ivenci (outcome at 6:20:59), romance frustrations 6:32:10 - Meeting the Inquisitor to discuss Solas, emotions overflowing 6:40:18 - Playing that again immediately 6:28:20 - And again 6:55:02 - Myrna hates Rook :(, reviving Manfred 7:04:27 - My soul again exits my body 7:14:56 - Finally switching up some decor, rereading the codex, playing through the Inquisitor meeting a fourth time, thoughts on PC voice and personality 7:29:58 - Relaxing with Davrin 7:35:07 - Beginning Bellara's brother's quest 8:01:25 - Reaching the barrier chamber 8:08:19 - Killing Anaris, outcome of quest 8:13:25 - Returning to the Lighthouse briefly, Myrna hates Rook :( 8:15:40 - Replaying the Inquisitor converation a fifth time, thoughts about Adahla and Solas 8:25:03 - Returning to the Lighthouse, talking about Strife with Emmrich 8:29:05 - Talking about Cyrian with Bellara, talking with Davrin, Taash/Harding about the archery bracer, Lucanis, 11-7-9 8:42:03 - Circling through merchants, arriving in the Hossberg Wetlands

[offorestsongs]

flirting tactics

oc x canon (Rook Hunt x Lysander)

Lysander tries to flirt. It backfires.

a/n: a lil ficlet bc i thought of the idea and i couldn't rest until i got it out of my system djfjdfj

“You know,” Lysander suddenly said, big eyed and innocent and totally without a plan. His heart raced so hard, he could feel it in his throat. “Your hands are so much bigger than mine. It's rather funny.”

It was, Lysander was well aware, extremely stupid. But well. He had always considered himself to be a rational, down-to-earth person. Somebody who preferred to keep his head above the clouds. He couldn't afford being anything else. Except for now, when his stupid, hopeless heart decided to develop feelings for a boy. That did bad things to his brain. Suddenly he wanted to be stupid.

And if anything, it was Cater who was to blame. It was him who told Lysander that "guys are totes into that".

Lysander held out his hand. “See?”

Rook glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “How curious indeed, Monsieur Fleur.”

Lysander was slowly starting to learn how to read his companion’s expressions, but even without that knowledge, the glimmer in Rook’s eyes would've given him a bad feeling.

With a smile, Rook put his hand to Lysander’s; how awful, Lysander briefly thought, that their skin was separated by layers of gloves. Then, without any warning, Rook interlaced their fingers.

To say Lysander’s heart skipped a beat would be to say nothing. Twenty beats, maybe. His cheeks instantly turned a vivid shade of red — sometimes he hated how easily he blushed.

“What a charming little trick, my dear,” Rook said, bringing their still interlocked fingers to his lips.

Lysander changed his mind. He was very glad he was wearing gloves. His heart would've stopped otherwise.

“Your fingers are delicate but steady. From needlework, I suppose?”

Lysander nodded, uncertain.

“Ah. See, that is a great quality for an ancher. Maybe I should teach you one day?”

The image of Rook teaching him how to handle a bow and an arrow flashed in Lysander's mind. He could imagine it almost too well; Rook standing behind him, gently guiding his moves and offering instructions. Just the thought of it made Lysander’s mouth dry.

“I- I don't think I would be good at it. I don't think I'm strong enough.”

“But nonsense.” Once again Rook brought Lysander’s knuckles to his lips. Just a quick brush, barely anything at all, but it still made Lysander’s head spin. “I have seen you tend to your gardens. Doesn't that require strength too?”

“I suppose.”

He took his hand from Rook's grasp, held it to his chest. His heart was still thrashing in his ribcage.

Rook beamed at him. “Then it is a date!”

Huh?

[dogma1999]

Reason for Reason - Chapter One

Read Here

Media: Far Cry 3

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: ~11.5k

Pairing: Vaas Montenegro/Mari Galvez (OC)

Summary: After being forced to kill her fiance when the two trespass on Rook Islands, Mari Gálvez is welcomed with open arms by Vaas Montenegro, leader of the Pirates, a faction on the islands. Mari discovers that Vaas has more in store for her than just a job as the Pirates' head medic, and that life on Rook Islands with Vaas is a lot more interesting than she initially thought it would be.

Chapter Summary: Mari Gálvez and her fiance arrive on Rook Islands– though not by Mari's choice– and after being found by Vaas and his Pirates, Mari is tasked with killing her fiance in order to live. After this, Vaas tests her loyalty to him and she passes, making her an official member of the Pirates. After a hunting trip to prove her skills, Vaas and Mari find themselves feeling a bit more than just loyalty towards one another.

CW Under the cut

CW: Canon typical violence, murder, brief suicide mention (mentioned once, not described), emotional abuse mention (briefly discussed), blood, animal death, mild gore, Not SFW mentions, heavily Not SFW situations and dialogue (no sex though), biting

[ghoulsbeard]

ooo the Fool and the World??

ahh thank you mouse :) <3 !!

Where did Rook's journey begin? What were they doing before joining the Veilguard?

Cracks my knuckles evilly… Mikal is honestly one of my favorites sfgds and she has the big indulgent backstory… she grew up in the free marches, became a friend of red jenny at the end of the “old guard” (when the jennies were a little bloodier and grimmer), fucked over the merchants’ guild, fucked over the coterie, lived to tell the tale… became the inquisition’s enchantment expert. she and dagna have dissenting opinions on the fade and love each other for it…she and varric do not get along but he really respects her so she ended up called in for the solas hunt (mostly by tessa and charter’s doing, they both thought she’d be a great help, and she does like them both.) i think she was on tessa and vaea’s team and saw the others infrequently before she was moved over in the last year to helping lace and varric; she and lace got along fairly well in the inquisition and worked together great.. she and varric clashed a lot as usual, especially since he’d begun to get more sentimental about solas... I think a hunt of ten years wore on him a lot.

Vasiliki was an old watcher; well known as a bit of a troublemaker for years before she got put on leave for antagonizing the nobility (again)… she grew up in Cumberland alienage i believe, if i have my cities right, and worked on a fishing trawler before she became an apprentice at the necropolis. she’s always prodded at a few of the traditions of the Necropolis - the organization of labor, for one- so she wasn’t at all surprised when Myrna told her to take a vacation, though it was a blow as the necropolis is her home the wisps and spirits are her family and neighbors... i think varric and lace persuaded her to join them by promising her plenty of fade weirdness

What does happily-ever-after look like for Rook? Is it attainable, or just wishful thinking?

they’re both very pragmatic women, they live in the present, mikal’s big pie in the sky dream is to see the thaigs of Rivain but besides that they both roll with the punches so to speak.. not much wishful thinking for either of them..

Mikal is pleased to live day by day.. she wants to see her family as much as she can before she dies, explore the world and see new artistry and craftsmanship, read widely as she can, create whatever burns in her mind and soul… she romanced bellara so i think they visit bel’s clan and mikal’s family together :) mikal’s family has a tradition of engraving a stone to honor those who have passed, and mikal does one for cyrian as a gift to bel. I think they’d be happy to explore and travel together, no matter where they end up living mikal will be a friend of red jenny and bel will be a scholar of dalish magic, and she’ll have mikal read her drafts, and mikal will show her the plans for her designs, and they’ll collaborate on enchantments and so on and so forth… :) clan lutare and the glavonaks celebrating together. i think it would be great

vasiliki would be pleased just to sit by the sea and have a nice meal with someone she likes. I think if she and neve decide to make it work, they’d want to go long distance and visit a few times a year or vasiliki would consider moving to minrathous… she might do so.. her faith in the watch is deeply rattled by johanna.. she’d be a great shadow dragon all things considered, she enjoyed the work while the dragons were scattered post-dragon attack and she and neve balance each other really well … if she hadn’t romanced neve i think she’d move to Rivain, learn more about spirits… not sure what she’d do for a living though… she’s honed herself as a mourn watcher and it’s a particular set of skills

I did briefly lament that she should have been a decade younger and romanced davrin… she would have relished the challenge of training griffons & thumbing her nose at warden politics as the order changes… she and dav have a fantastic and very fun dynamic. ah well </3

[weepingfoxfury]

Who Goes There?

Standing out with the cats in the dark at night, listening carefully to every single sound. My head turning with theirs, their eyes seeing things I cannot. They lead the hunt, look over their shoulders motioning for me to follow. Their steps soft, rustling and calculated ... mine are clumsy in comparison. They disappear in amongst the undergrowth into places I cannot follow ... I wait and watch. A small shriek, the grasses part slightly, cats eyes briefly gleam up into mine and they are gone with their prize.

I return, solo to the yard behind the gate. Smallest Dog waits, her gaze quizzical. I smile at her and she returns to her own foraging. I remain still, cloaked in this precious and dimly lit world. All senses heightened ... so much movement the other side of the wall.

Then ... out of the darkness comes something unexpected. "Oy" says a Rook. I am momentarily startled. The birds all shuffle slightly, then settle again. Smallest Dog returns to stand by my feet. I listen and watch as leaves drift down from Cathweegia to land softly on the water. "Oy" says the Rook again and I begin to laugh. I have said this so often to the dogs to deter them from bothering the shrews and the Rooks have heard me.

I stand smiling to myself, nod at Smallest Dog and we go back into the warm kitchen ...

[lcgacyofages]

I am pretty flexible with working out how muses can interact with other muses from different games, I just need to work it out. That said, I've got some that are easier to interact with in certain time frames within the game setting. This list can be modified in the future if need be, just need to think on some.

DAO

HOF: Eliana Mahariel

Companions: Arik Tabris, Dimetrea Brosca, Lir Cousland, Zoria Amell

Others: Atena Hawke (briefly at Ostagar), Dazbo (prior to the events at the Circle) and Aurora Amell (at the Circle), Seigfried Trevelyan (ran off to help his uncle in Ferelden's West Hills during the Blight), Mathras Myriani (he woke up around 9:30)

DA2

Champion: Atena Hawke

Companions: Dazbo Amell, Katarina Anhalt, Sasha Fitz, Selena Porter

Others: Eliana Mahariel (as HOF), Arik Tabris (as Second in Command for Ferelden's Wardens), Lir Cousland (visiting Fereldan noble), Zoria Amell (if she is with Zevran when Zevran is featured in DA2), Aurora Amell (if we plot Wynne stopping at Kirkwall while on tour with Aurora as her assistant), Seigfried Trevelyan (maybe during the wyvern hunt since he's a hunter), Mathras Myriani

DAI

Inquisitor: Rajmahel Lavellan

Companions: Aurora Amell, Hildegard Cadash, Idrilla Lavellan (requires Rajmahel as inquisitor), Inatar Adaar, Seigfried Trevelyan, Sergio di Vasco, Shamut Adaar

Others: Atena Hawke (as champion), Arik Tabris (can be recruited after Here Lies the Abyss), Katarina Anhalt (can be working with Cullen), Lir Cousland (can be a delegate from Ferelden), Dazbo and Zoria Amell (visiting Aurora), Selena Porter (can act as a contact for the Inquisition on the topic of magical artifacts), Elera Lavellan (requires Rajmahel as Inquisitor, her as a child in the Inquisition), Mathras Myriani

DAVG

Rook: Ogden Thorne

Companions: Sergio di Vasco (de Rivas only, otherwise he's with the Crows), Elera Lavellan (a link to the Inquisition and their collective knowledge)

Others: Selena Porter (probably moved up to Rivain and might work with the LoF), Dazbo Amell (by this point, he's learned of his father's lineage and may be in Tevinter as his heir but works with the Shadow Dragons), Mathras Myriani, Vincentius Titus, Idrilla Lavellan and Fenvir (if Rajmahel is inquisitor), Rajmahel Lavellan (as the Inquisitor)